Angel Jimenez Confesses

I had lived in South Florida for 4 years while I went to a crappy university. One of the worst 4 years of my life, although I did meet Tony Vahl. Actually, yeah it was the worst 4 years of my life.

The first thing I noticed about the so-called "dress code" is that people don't like to wear socks or shoes in Florida.

It's revolting.

Not only do they walk around their trailers barefoot, but these lowlives run in the grass and street barefoot.

At the university, they wear SANDALS. Disgusting, germ-infested SANDALS.

I was as at the doctor's office, and even the nurses wore SANDALS.

No one in Florida knows what a SOCK is...except the Canadian snowbirds or retired New Yorkers that wear socks all the way up to the knees.

SANDALS and socks don't match, anyway. SANDALS only belong at the BEACH. Not in the classroom. Not at work. Period.

I don't want to see your toes. This society has become too laid back and relaxed.

WEAR SHOES.
PUT YOUR SOCKS ON.

Labels: Rant

There is nothing that makes my stomach retch like seeing some woman sticking her feet up on the dashboard of some Jeep or other SUV. Nothing.

Israel could unleash Godzilla on Hamas, and that wouldn't make me as ill as seeing some woman with her dirty feet carelessly placed on a dashboard, or GOD FORBID dangling out a window.

Rye bread makes me want to vomit, shrimp makes me sick, and feet on a dashboard makes me retch. I am so serious.

I have nothing else to say on this matter. Thank you. Thank you VERY much.

I, Angel Jimenez, think you are an idiot. I know you are content with spending your life day-to-day from one paycheck to another, relying on relatives to bail your pathetic posterior out when you can't pay the electric bill.

You are ignorant and clueless. You simply don't have an IQ high enough to know any better; it's genetic. If you had a high IQ, you would realize that you should have did well in school, got a degree, and found a stable and high-paying job. Instead you are temping, working at McDonalds', or turning tricks with total strangers to buy shoes, bags, and formula for your fatherless baby, while you don't pay rent because you live with your grandmother.

You are dumb, fickle, and incapable of thinking for yourself. You believe whatever you see on TV, read on Yahoo!, read in the newspaper, or listen to at the office water fountain.

You certainly have no idea how to budget yourself or manage your credit. You don't even know how to eat healthy or exercise. You are lazy. You are not cultured in any way, shape, or form. You think the U.S. is the best. You forgot everything you ever learned in school: Geography, Math, Literature, History, Social Studies, etc.

You complain and want quick solutions and fixes to the problems you created yourself.

You buy lottery tickets, beer, and weed with any extra cash you may have.

You are a failure but want to be respected. You get angry when you get "screwed" and don't know what responsibility is.

You chose the wrong genetic mating partner. You will destroy the human race.

My solution: vote for me as Benevolent Dictator of the United States, and I will tell you what to do, since you are incapable of making the right decisions.

Labels: Rant

Who should I vote for?

Let's face it folks, we really don't have a good choice this year. And it's not like we can change the system. So what can we do?

Hillary Clinton: I can't bring myself to vote for a Clinton; I never did and I never will. I voted for King George I and Ross Perot. I don't want to see Bill Clinton in the White House again, it's pretty cut and dried.

Barack Obama: I was raised to never trust a charismatic politician, because they are generally hiding something or are power hungry with huge egos. That fits Barrack to a tee.

John McCain: Flip flop. Old. Puppet. War Hawk. Pass.

Alrighty then.

Labels: politics

I'm beginning to think that Americans believe items bought with credit cards are "free". It's short term thinking, and many have no intention of paying pack their debts. As much as I despise collection agencies and banks...95% of the time they are correct. YOU didn't manage your finances correctly, and now it's time to pay the piper. You can make all the excuses you want- like how you don't think you should pay back the loan the University of Miami lent you because you didn't get that sports therapy job you always dreamed about. You can moan and cry all about how you were forced to foreclose your house after your wife left you- please. Enough is enough. Stop living above your means.

Labels: Credit

I mean, really. Christina Aguilera can talk "Dirty" all she wants, but when it comes down to brass tax, I'll bet she's an ice princess.

I can imagine the date. You're a Hollywood type, and you've got a date with Ms. Aguilera. You're thinking guaranteed lay, right? And then you go out with her ... and you find out she's a picky eater ... and that she doesn't like action movies ... and that she has to go to bed early, because she has an 8:00 AM pedicure appointment.

A gal like Christina is HIGH MAINTENANCE -- I can guarantee you that.

There's another issue -- songs like "Dirty" present the image of women being easy. Yet, if you try to approach women with this song in your heart, you'll get shot down like an Iraqi fighter pilot in the no-fly zone.

But isn't that a contradiction? I mean, shouldn't there be CONSEQUENCES for being so DAMN suggestive, and then rejecting us guys when we have the AUDACITY to think we're going to get some?

What a joke.

Okay. If Tony and Damian were hot teenage lesbian chicks from Russia, they
would have the most popular website ever. Hell, you wouldn't even have to
come here to check them out -- you'd see Tony and Damian on Entertainment
Tonight, MTV, newsstands, and book tours at your local Borders.

But they're not. They're straight, intelligent, fairly introverted anglo
guys ... producing great material that is largely ignored by our
hormone-driven wonderland.

We are slaves to our desires. We are addicted. We are pathetic.

F*** hormones. F*** stimulation. F*** titillation. WAKE THE F*** UP.



What are the odds that you read this sentence? I mean, you might have been
distracted. Email your friends if you read this -- let them know you're not
a walking pheromone.

[Editor's note: This was originally published prior to the untimely death of Christopher Reeves. Angel insisted we republish it here.]

I heard this b**** the other day saying that Chris Reeves looks bad and s***. Hey, he may not look as good as when he was flying through the air with a cape on, but come on! If she wants a bad-looking paraplegic, she should take a look at Stephen Hawking.

Come on! Give the guy a break. Look, not that I'm into men, okay, but I think Chris Reeves looks just fine, considering his age and condition.

Maybe what he needs to do is get back on a horse, to show the ladies what he's made of. I mean, it's only a horse! Don't be afraid, right?

I bet if he got back on a horse, these b****es would think he's hot again. S***, it might turn his wife on, too. [Editor's note: Again, this was published prior to the death of Mrs. Reeves. We begged him to remove the last sentence concerning Mrs. Reeves, but he refused.]

So, Mr. Reeves, if you're out there -- think about it.

I just can't get enough of Stephen Hawking. I just love the way his head tilts in his wheelchair. I can't stop staring at the way he smiles, or the way his wasted arms lay criss-crossed on his wasted body.

I mean, I can just imagine him tilting his head, desperately stretching his lips for his straw so he can quench his thirst. Or, imagine having to give him a bath every night, or wipe his ass.

Oh sure -- you think I'm jerk for saying this. We're not supposed to make fun of a guy who is crippled, particularly if he's a genius.

I know -- I'm going to be crippled now, or burn in the hottest part of hell, because I made fun of a cripple.

Look, the bottom line is that it's funny to look at Stephen Hawking. I'm just honest enough to confess it.

This is tough for me to admit. After all, everyone loves that stupid green puppet ... but the bottom line is Kermit is the lamest character of all time.

I used to sympathize when Ms. Piggy would push him around. I'd feel sorry for him when he was dealing with Fozzy Bear. But not anymore.

Kermit brought it on himself. He could've walked out on the Muppet Show, but nooooo! He just kept bending over, and taking the hand up the rear.

He wanted to be abused. He wanted to be punished. And he wanted my sympathy.

God, I feel violated.

Never again. The final straw was the other day, when I heard Kermit and his wife doing a commercial for Denny's.

Now, let me get this straight: Kermit refuses to do French food because Frog is on the menu, but he's okay with Ms. Piggy eating bacon and eggs?

What? He's okay with being married to a PIG CANNIBAL, but he's got a problem with eating tadpoles.

What a joke. That's when I knew that Kermit wasn't a frog, but a [censored].

I'm sick of Kermit and his whole phony act. I don't care about the Muppet's 25th anniversary. And I hope Fozzy Bear goes grizzly and takes out the frog.