Well, it doesn’t get much more “interesting” than this. Back when I was in the college years, checking fake IDs of McLovin dream-weavers, I used to see some seriously fantastic people come into my store. And…by “fantastic”, I mean completely f**king odd. Like, “get out the jackets with one sleeve” odd. So, one day, this elderly black lady comes in and wants to use the phone. She dials and while she’s waiting, begins to cup her old lady titty. I glance over, and then she starts smacking it–like she’s smacking a terrible two year old. I tried to look away, but at the same time, it was somehow captivating. In a circus clown kinda way.

So, while she was feeling herself up, this same lady was muttering something. I couldn’t hear her, because I was just too busy with my other customers. It was probably some awesome schizophrenic drivel no one else in the Milky Way could interpret, so meh, who gives a rat’s ass. Then, after she was done, she said ‘thank you’, and I felt really sick when she left. I think the old lady put some voodoo on me or something. Needless to say, I hope I never see that nasty geriatric mammary display again.

Ever.

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What happens when you mix a “just for fun” contest, porn pics, and peeps with too much time on their hands?  Yeah.  You guessed it.  If you couldn’t tell by the above intro image, then…well, get a clue.  We have surfed to the ends of the Internet to find some of what we called the “best in class” (if “class” even applies here, lol) porn pics converted to “safe” via the use of only MS Paint and copious amounts of one-handed skill.  How’s this done, one might ask?  Well…start with porno pics, add in a touch of perverted/sick/hilarious/twisted humor, and bake for 90 minutes at 450.  Out comes a collection of comedic pics of legendary Internet pop culture.

Inside the gallery of this post, you’ll see the ones we picked as the best.  The gallery is also over on our Facebook profile page, so you can toss up some some likes as you see fit.  You better like them, is what we’re saying.

Cheers.

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No matter what, I think we can all come to terms that, in general, people just sometimes really piss you off.  How?  Annoying the hell out of you by doing stupid stuff, that’s how.  I don’t care who you are or where you work, ALL of you out there know there’s that one person (or people maybe, hah!) at work you’d love to punch in the mouth.  Between the stupid stuff he or she says, HOW it’s said, and the kajillion bad habits people have, it’s a wonder any of us get a damned thing done.  So what are some of your best gripes, rants, or “triggers”?  I’ll give you a few of mine–if you want to keep reading.  If you don’t, I could care less.  Someone else more annoying will take your time slot in my day, so don’t kid yourself.

Let’s start with hygiene.  Is it really hard to not bring food into my work zone and not spread crumbs all over the floor…or worse yet, my desk?  Really?  Is this how you eat at home?  Probably.  Why bother trying to train someone beyond the teething stage one semblance of table manners.  Hopeless.  What’s worse, is the same fatty that comes by eating Cheetos like a fiend, will undoubtedly return to his (yes, him, male–we all know the male obsession with Cheetos) desk and start banging on his keyboard with greasy, cheese-laden paws.  Gross.  I’d rather lick a toilet seat than use someone else’s keyboard and/or mouse–let alone allow someone to touch mine.  GTFO.

Oh, and by the way…..clip your booger-encrusted finger nails at home.  I don’t need to feel like I’m guarding my drink from being rufied at the bar while seated at my desk, worrying whether your skanky DNA shards will fall into my water cup.  Get real.  Do that crap at home, freak.  Also, as if hearing 10 clicks from your clippers isn’t enough–I best be damned sure not hear 20–sick!

Attention smokers and sweaty ogres: your latest installment of Polo, Chaps, Brut, Tommy Girl, Song, or whatever other skunk piss you adorn each trip outside is not attractive.  I don’t need to be seated, working quietly, chilling to Pandora with my earbuds in and know exactly when you walk in, in the morning…by the mere virtue of smelling your stinky ass stroll by.  Barf.  Do you realize it is not hot when others lose the capacity to respire when you’re around?  Sure, maybe smelling like an ashtray or meathead isn’t all that great, but neither is smelling like a failed chemical warfare experiment, either.  So disgusting.  If you really need that much on, maybe you need to swap soaps, get a loofa, or forbid–adopt a regularly scheduled shower schedule.

One last one…for now.  I’ll think of more of these after I hit “publish”, I’m certain.  Maybe annoying people will inspire another posting.  Whatever.

Gum popping.  Really?  What are you, 15?  This isn’t Valley High School and you’re waiting by your locker for Mike Oxlong to ask you to prom.  Get real–no one wants to hear your gum snapping, popping, ticking, clicking, or any other African Cave Cricket mating call coming from your jowl-wagging face.  Ugh.  Pop your gum?  You need to get your mouth popped.  Period.  End of discussion.  Don’t’ be a teenager; grow up and try to act like you are earning your wages paid.

OK.  Done (for now, at least).  I’ve said my piece.  You guys got any good annoyances exhibited by the people we spend more time with than our own families?  If not, is your employer hiring?

I don’t have much better to close with, so I’ll just follow the intro image theme and send you off with a good line from an epic flick.

Cheers…

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Last night was New Year’s Eve and the casino was slammed, as expected. Upper management had us park two miles away and bus us in so that the customers could use our parking spots.

Waiting in my suit for a bus at 8:30pm in the middle of a freezing industrial wasteland, I wondered how bullshit the night was going to be. I started out my night watching 4 pai gow poker tables, which is an easy gig. Nothing ever happens in pai gow poker. Just change the cards on the games every two hours and coast through the night. Chit chat with some players, and take it easy.

I was there for about 15 minutes when shift manager Jimmy told me to head to high limit blackjack. He said Mr.D is over there, and he needed someone that could maintain a cool head.

This was the bullshit I had wondered about earlier.

Mr. D is an absolute motherfucking motherfucker. He looks like a evil cherub. Short, fat, big cheeks and piercing blue eyes. He is rich, owns a luxury car dealership, is mobbed up, and from Sicily. Worst of all he’s not stupid. He has a gift of reading people. When he’s in the casino, he uses that gift to upset and offend as many customers and employees as possible. When I got to the section I understood why Jimmy was sending me over there.

This smoking hot pit boss was there dressed in a revealing formal dress running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Mr.D was having a field day with her.

Mr. D had more chips in front of him than was in the tray. I ordered for more chips, but if he won about three hands in a row, I was going to be out of chips. He must of sensed my anxiety about the money because even though he had over 100k in front of him, he wanted a tto (credit extended by the casino beyond the credit limit already set) for 50k. If he got the 50k from the tto, it would clear out the tray. If the tray is emptied and the game has to be stopped because there is no money to pay winning bets, I get a write up. I wasn’t authorized to grant the tto, I had to have a casino host do it, so I had to track down a casino host. Which was a tough thing to do when it was as busy as it was. During that time, God must of pitied me, because he started losing. In the five minutes it took to find a host for Mr.D, he had lost 100k and stomped off to terrorize another pit boss.

I was counting the money in the tray so I could give a accurate update to my boss as to how much he had just lost, glanced at the TV, and our casino was on ABC while they were doing the big countdown for Chicago… which at first made me feel kinda warm and fuzzy, because hey, we were on TV. Then that warm feeling turned to dread when I realized that 1000′s of people were partying upstairs and preparing to swarm the already packed casino floor in drunken stupors.

So the remainder of the night/morning sucked, and I decided that when I was off at 7:30 am, I was going to drink. I never had drank in the morning after work at the local bars. The wife was at work in morning, the baby was with the mother in law, so it was perfect time to reward myself for making it through the night.

I walked through the door of PortSide bar after work, and it was insane. People already drunk at 8am, screaming, dancing, and gambling. It was a mix of cocktail girls, dealers and pit bosses of all races. So I sit, and start to get drunk as planned. I went to break the seal, and three brothers crowded into the bathroom with me while I was pissing and started a street craps game in the shitter floor. I laughed and thought wtf.

A hot dealer that was going through a divorce came up to me and confessed that she had used meth for 3 years, was into abusive relationships and liked to take her clothes off when she drank. Before that talk I thought she was the Betty Crocker type. Apparently I misread that one. I was surprised by the lack of professionalism, but I wasn’t upset. It was entertaining and kind of nice that everyone could REALLY let go.

As everyone was getting more drunk, shit got more out of control. One of the dealers that I’m directly in charge of started talking about her cell phone, and before I knew it, she was showing me naked pics of her. She was surprisingly hotter naked than dressed.

Then the former meth addict came up to me and started screaming at me for no reason and slugged me (hard) in the shoulder. Then she turned her anger at my boss Dave, and started screaming at him. He didn’t seem to care. In a few minutes, her friends realized she was out of control, and took her to the girls bathroom. Dave then walked out to his car with a dual-rate (half pit boss, half dealer), and came back in about 20 minutes… I assumed he got his dick wet.

Some pipe fitters union guys came in, and it was looking like pipe fitters against pit bosses for a few minutes as words were exchanged before the owner came out and diffused the tension. After that, I drove home buzzed but not sloshed. I ended up going to bed at about 3pm. That was my New Years.

Cliff’s notes – New Years was busy and I drank in the morning. Detailed story of that night/morning.

New Years was busy and I drank in the morning is brought to you by Insane Industry - We're crass with class, don't encourage us.

If you haven’t a clue what movie the picture is from, piss off and quit reading right now.  If you do happen to know, then pull up a pint and see what you think.

My friend John and I work together as pit bosses. We decided to throw a fake birthday party for ourselves at a bar/club. At the time (three months ago) it was a completely hysterical idea as well as a good excuse for everyone to party, but now it’s coming up next week and I’m wondering if it was a bad idea.

We are not completely full of shit, because we are just calling it a “celebration” of our birthdays, and we won’t be having another for our real b-days. Soooo many people are really pumped up about it. On a scale of 1-10, how much of a douche bag does this make me? Some hottie is going to bake me a cake… I was like “NO!” but she insisted. Why do I feel like my life has become an episode of “I Love Lucy”?

Either way, I really don’t give a shit if this is the right thing to do or not.  I left etiquette lessons on the wayside, right next to my vessel of wet dreams (oh, wait, those aren’t gone)….but yeah, seriously.  I don’t really feel bad if the jailbait Applebee’s girls sing me happy birthday and I get a free hug/brownie.  It’s not really something I’m going to lose sleep over.

Is it wrong to take advantage of a factoid?  Shut the F up.  You know you have.  Fake ID.  9 inches instead of 7.  32D instead of 36B.  Whatever the case.  All I’m caring about is getting free cake, being an attention whore, and gods forbid, a free squeeze without regret.

‘Till next time, eat me.

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We had the craziest thing happen to us this past winter, and I didn’t think it was as crazy then as I do now after cleaning off my digital camera’s SD card.  So here goes…

I will set the stage for you.  Five of my buddies from college planned an ice fishing trip.  First off, ice fishing is a totally male dominated sport; you never see women unless they are with men, and so on. So we always joke that when were out on the lake in our hut were going to run into 5 other hotties that also planned a fishing trip…dare to dream, right?

So first day goes good blah blah, second day we get put in a new ice house in a different location–these are big ice fishing houses 8 x 16 feet, so we have room to hang out and fish. We were catching fish, shooting the breeze, and around 2pm we hear a knock on the door, “Who’s that?”.

A lady is standing there saying she is a conservation officer and would like to see our licenses, but she has no uniform on, nor did I hear her car or snow machine, so well, we get our licenses out. She starts laughing saying she is fucking with us, and that she is in the shack about 50 yards away. So we start talking and she is all full of energy and chatty, at one point she looks out the window at our tip ups on the lake and presents her ass to us like a deer would in the wild before mating.

Needless to say were 5 drunk guys and we get dirty with her, but she likes it and says that she could take all 5 at once; we laugh and she said she needs to get back, but will come later and visit. So we laugh in complete disbelief of what just what happened, and go back to fishing.

A couple hours pass and she comes back, and its just 3 of us in the hut then the other guys were out checking tip ups and stuff.  She bullshits again and then asks if we want to see her muscles, we say yeah, why not.

BOOM the shirt is off, she tells us she wears no underwear. So everyone comes over. A couple of the guys just GTFO; they were freaked out her husband was going to come over and kill us.

Time passes, and she wants to show us her tattoos, so pop go the pants down to about the vagina and she has a playboy bunny that looks like it has been hit by 2 cars over her vagay, and a devil on the lower back that would pass as an okay jail tattoo.

By this point there are only 3 of us left in the hut, so at this point you are probably wondering how she looks. She’s in her 50′s, not attractive even with the amount of booze we had in our system (and she had a boob job b/c they hung like a pygmy’s), but I figured we should get some pics…and we did.

Then we try to set our friend up who doesn’t get much ass and she is ready to go , so we try to leave him in there but he runs out and won’t do it she comes out and makes fun of us for not fucking her.  She then tells us that they are swingers and it’s not a problem at all she–is a pro.  She then proceeds to tell us about last year’s deer season when they were fucking 3 guys in a deer camp and they didn’t have any lube, so she let the guys fuck her in the ass with ” I cant believe its not butter”. Just. Wow.

This has to be the MOST fucked up thing ever to happen to me or anyone ice fishing. I would have believed we would have caught a world record fish over some saggy skeeze wanting to have sex will all of us in our ice shack.

Sorry for the long message but we have a story of a life time.

Cliff notes: Chick wanted to have sex with all 5 of us while we were out ice fishing, but we passed on it, and took pics. Hid my friend’s identity b/c he’s worried about it.

Oh, almost forgot…here’s our Ice Queen.

The craziest thing to happen to me yet is brought to you by Insane Industry - We're crass with class, don't encourage us.

So I have a clique of pit boss friends at work, and this one guy, Mr.K, in our clique had some time off, and then stopped showing up for work, even though he was on the schedule.

We assumed he had been arrested for something or maybe in an accident. He dabbled in drugs and had just come back from Amsterdam a few weeks before, so we all assumed he brought back something and got busted.

One of the guys , John, called him and asked him what was up. He told John that he couldn’t say over the phone and that it was a long story. A month goes by, no one knows anything but we all are assuming drugs or casino scam gone wrong.

Finally John calls again, and this time Mr.K spills his guts and starts bawling. He was set up by a Dateline-like sting. He chatted online with what was supposed to be a 15 yr old chick.

During his fun vacation weekend with his gf (who is hot even though she is maybe 43),  he drove to Illinois to meet this chick. He is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO fucked. They have about a million charges, especially because he went over state lines to do it. He had sent her pics of his junk etc, etc, etc… He was in jail for a week and now is under house arrest until his sentencing in December. He is able to drive to his part-time shit job they let him get so he doesn’t lose his house. Even after he does his time and whatever, he will never work in the casino industry ever again and will be listed as a sex offender forever.

I know it’s hard to believe, but the dude was harmless. It’s also crazy because most of us are burnt out working in the industry, but this guy seriously loved it.

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The first one is about Mr. Angry. He is an angry Arab man with money. Mr. Fu is a Chinese flea. (flea = term for people that have small money that are degenerate gamblers).

Fu befriends Angry and is like his lackey in the casino for a year. He takes him food, drinks, ashtrays, cashes his chips in at the cage and brings him back the cash. Angry has NO friends, so he likes the company. Angry even lets Fu gamble with his money while he’s in the bathroom and what not.

Three weeks ago Angry hands Fu $9,000 in chips to cash in at the cage. Fu disappears.

Weird thing is the dealer (who hates Angry) and myself start getting into a discussion earlier that night about how funny it would be if someone stole the chips he left on the table. I am starting to think I’m psychic, but only with bad news. I am the asshole psychic.

The second one is this 58 yr old farmer Mr M.

Mr.M plays poker, then if he does well wanders out to pai gow poker and flashes his money to the fleas. He must do pretty well for a farmer ($25,000k credit limit with us).

So I get to the section he’s in and he’s kicking our ass. He’s up maybe $20k, and has 15 of Gary’s finest cheats, beggers, and hustlers swarming him. I privately ask if the crowd is ok, and he says “Oh yeah.” . He’s feeding them all money to play. I leave that morning frustrated by the situation, but oh well.

My friend told me later that week after Mr. M finished at the casino he got a room at a hotel, and two woman rolled him for $70,000 in cash and $10,000 in chips. It was in the paper. Talk about no street smarts.

Yes.  It happened.

Lonely men have a hard time holding onto money.

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So there’s this player at my casino, Mr. S, is a HUUUUUUUUGE player. He owns an international company, wins/loses one million+ dollars a night. The maximum bet in our casino is 100k, and this guy bets it.

Mr S. used to be a fairly nice guy and pleasant to be around. Then slowly, over the course of say 4 years he became more and more of a prick.

This takes me to Sept 2nd, and him acting like a jackass on a game I’m watching. He lost a 50k bet, and picked it up and threw at the dealer. It was in 1000 dollar chips, so it was a big stack of fifty, and made a nice mess. When you bet that much, the casino lets you do what you want. We built a helipad for this cock.

Anyways, I go on break, and my brother calls me to the hospital to tell me my mom is dying / almost dead. So I leave, and later ask a friend how much he lost etc, etc, etc. I start badmouthing him and say that I hope he crashes his fucking helicopter into the ground so I can go dance an Irish gig on his grave.

The next night, the wife and I are watching the late night news and there was a story about a helicopter the went through a house. No one in the house was hurt, but the pilot and passenger were killed. Wife was about to change it, and I said “No, hold on, maybe it’s that mother fucking son of a bitch Mr.S.”

Well, it was. He and his fiance were both killed.

Not the best story, but just a story.

Cliff’s Notes version – I wished death on someone and they died.

I wished death on someone and they died is brought to you by Insane Industry - We're crass with class, don't encourage us.