Well, have I got the answer for all you dumb, poor motherfuckers!

Hi, my name is J.R. Wellingford III, and I want to tell you about a book I wrote called “How to Take It Up the Ass Like A Poor Bastard Should.”

In my book you will learn the secrets of living in poverty while Wall Street rapes your ass daily.

How did the corporate big shots manage to destroy the national economy only to turn around and profit from it?

It was easy – they fucked the poor man in the ass!

But don’t take my word for it. Listen to this testimonial!

“Hi. My name is Chris. This one time, I had only a penny in my savings account. And the bastards took it.”

Don’t want to end up like Chris?

Too late! You already have! Your dumbass just doesn’t know it yet!

Don’t believe me? Listen to Chuck from South Dakota!

“If you don’t get that camera out of my face, I’m gonna cut your fuckin’ balls off.”

What? You think he’s talking about my balls? No, he’s talking about your balls! Why? Because your poor and your balls don’t matter!

Now, if you were rich, like me, you could just buy a new set and people would care. They’d say, “Hey, there goes J.R. with his pretty new set of balls.”

So, buy my book. Don’t be like Chris and get your balls cut off by Chuck.

Taking it up the ass isn’t anything worth losing your balls over.

“Isn’t that right, Casey?”

“AHHHHHHH!!!!!”

*moaning in background*

Tiger: Uhh…good. I’m good. You?
ME: It’s fuckin cold. I hate that shit.
Tiger: Yeah…

*squealing noise*

Tiger: …yeah, I hate the cold, too.
ME: What’s wrong with your cat?
Tiger: I don’t have a cat.
ME: What the hell was that noise then?
Tiger: I’m watching TV.
ME: …the fuck you watching, dude?

[background]
“…but Mrs. Starr, what if your husband comes home?”

ME: Mrs. Starr? Who’s Mrs…HOLY FUCKIN SHIT, DUDE!!! You’re watching ‘MILF Hunter,’ aren’t ya?

BOOBIES!!!

Tiger: I’m just undergoing some treatment.

ME: Treatment? By watching some dorky ginger kid bang a bunch of soccer moms? Who’s your doctor…Peter North?

Tiger: Well, yes, actually. That is his name. But he’s a totally different dude.

ME: So…basically you’re taking two jerks and calling him in the morning?

Tiger: Something like that. He checked me in to a facility in Mississippi.

ME: What sort of facility?

Tiger: For people addicted to sex.

ME: I didn’t realize you were addicted to sex.

Tiger: Me, either…

ME: …and you pay him for this?

Tiger: Well, yeah…it was Elin’s idea. Actually, it was more of an ultimatum.

ME: Fuck that shit! I told you to stay away from them Scandinavian chicks. They’re the phoniest.

Tiger: …yeah, I know, I know…

ME: You remember that day, right? Don’t tell me you don’t!

Tiger: No, I remember…

ME: Alright then. But just to reminisce about that glorious day I shall repeat it here for my own enjoyment and not invent the shit for some dumbass blog.

Tiger: …huh?

ME: Nevermind…anyway, it was the ’84 Masters, we were 6-years-old, and you were all like, “Im gonna marry a Scandinavian bitch! I’m gonna marry a Nordic bitch!”

ME: And I was all like, “Yo, fuck that shit, homie! They be some phony-ass bitches!”

ME: And you were like, “Phony how?”

ME: And I was like, “Man, they all be like ‘Yay!! Free drugs and free sex!!’ one day. And the next day act like you gave them AIDS.”

ME: And you go, “I don’t care! They’re lovely people and I’m gonna marry one and we’re gonna have lots of babies.”

ME: So I took your Hot Wheels and threw them in the pond at Amen Corner. Little good it fuckin did…

Tiger: Uhh…Chris?

ME: …and you see, Tiger, that’s what pisses me off here…

Tiger: Chris?

ME: Here I am at Walmart, talking about some shithole named R-Pattz…

Tiger: Chris!?!?

ME: …what, dude?

Tiger: Mrs. Starr…remember?

ME: Oh, shit…my bad. Alright, call me back when you’re done.

Tiger: Later.

ME: And wash your hands first! I don’t need some freaky Scandinavian shit coming through my phone.

Disclaimer: The majority of these Random Rhonda quotes were actually spoken by the legendary Rhonda herself. The rest are “Rhonda-like” quotes, which will probably be spoken by Rhonda at some point in the future. Then again, she’s pretty fuckin random, so who knows.

*walks into Walmart singing Taylor Dayne*

ME: Hey Rhonda!
Rhonda: My pickle is cold.
ME: Ummm…OK…
Rhonda: You’ll go on your first break at 4:13pm and I’ll say hi to you.
ME: Right…
Rhonda: I need a drink now.
ME: OK then…

*4:13pm – walking outside for my first break*

Rhonda: Have a good a first break!

*looks at watch*

ME: *mumbles* How the fuck does she do that?

*approximately 15 minutes later*

Rhonda: How was I suppossed to know they made shoes with Velcro on them? I’m just workin.
ME: What?
Rhonda: That’s what they used to strap the astronauts to the Moon.
ME: They used Velcro to strap the astronauts to the Moon?
Rhonda: …and Tang. Hey, I’m just workin’.

*returns to Electronics*

ME: Hey guys…does Rhonda the door-greeter ever say stuff to you
that’s like really, really…
Dan: …random and off the wall?
ME: Yeah!
Dan: Yeah, every time I see her. Why? What did she say to you?
ME: That we strapped the astronauts to the Moon using Velcro and Tang.
Dan: Sounds like her. Yeah, after lunch as I was walking out of the break room, she was coming in and I held the door open for her. She told me to have a nice shit. Which was weird, because I was really on my way to the bathroom to take a shit.
ME: She’s like Nostradamus…only of shitting.

*walking out for last break*

[alarm goes off]

Rhonda: Ma’am, can I see your receipt please? Ma’am? Hey, lady!

*Rhonda chases and tackles customer*

Customer 2: Excuse me, but that’s my daughter.
Rhonda: I need to see the bitch’s receipt.
Customer 2: What!? She’s 3!
Rhonda: If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…OK, she’s clean. Merry Christmas.
Customer 2: Fuck you, bitch!
Rhonda: Hey, I’m just workin.

ME: Hey, Keisha…what’s up?
Keisha: Very little…how’s electronics?
ME: Just getting shit ready for Black Friday.
Keisha: What kind of sales are gonna be back there?
ME: Laptops, 360s, like three or four TVs…whose prices I can’t remember at the moment…
Keisha: Where are the Wii accessories…like controllers and stuff? My boyfriend wants one of them Wii Motion Plus things.
ME: All the video game accessories are on the opposite side of the Xbox and PS3 game cases. There may be some in the cases, but for…

Rhonda: *shouts* You must be Jewish!
ME: What?
Rhonda: You use a lot of hand motions…you must be Jewish!
ME: Actually I’m Irish, Ger…
Rhonda: I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go hide my purse.

[next day]

ME: Hey Rhonda!
Rhonda: My asshole hurts.
ME: *facepalm*
Rhonda: I think I wiped it too hard.
ME:…wow!

He’s so hot! I would totally lose my 11-year-old virginity to him!

WTF is this shit?

This is why other countries hate us so much. It’s got nothing to do with our economic policies. It has everything to do with “R-Pattz.” No, not him specifically, but the media machine which takes some shithole who just got out of bed and turns him into a sparkly vampire.

VAMPIRES DON’T FUCKIN SPARKLE!!!

What’s next? Frankenstein in a pink tube top? Gimme a fuckin break!

Bela Lugosi is turning over in his fuckin grave right now. Now that’s a vampire. That’s a classy vampire. That’s how you get the shit done. Young, sparkly fart-blossom here looks like he can’t remember his damn name.

” I didn’t know there was a ‘z’ in my name.”

“STFU, assface.”

Look at him…it’s like his battery died. I should get the jumper cables out of the trunk of my car and clamp them to his butt cheeks.

I want to meet the shithead who gave the corporate teenie-bopper industry the impression that replacing the letter ‘s’ with the letter ‘z’ automatically makes you hip. They do it like it’s some radical departure from the norm…like it’s some hardcore shit…like they’re the N.W.A. of grammar.

“Lookie here, bitches…If we replace the ‘s’ with a ‘z,’ our sales will go through the roof.”
“Fo shizzle.”
“Bitch-ass parents will be all like, ‘Oh my God! Look at these hip gangsta mutha fuckas who are breaking all the rules. They’re using ‘z’ instead of ‘s.’ They may influence my adolescent, R-Pattz loving white daughter. Next thing you know, she’s 16, pregnant and dating the black foreign exchange student from Ghana.’”

I’m 32-years-old. I’m a product of the 80s. I had a Rubix Cube, a gray Members Only jacket, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album, an E.T. bicycle, and a pet rock…which died a week after I got it.

But I don’t recall this bubble gum crap being as popular as it is today.

*recalls Bananarama*

OK…one exception.

*recalls Tiffany*

Alright, two…two exceptions.

*recalls Huey Lewis & The News*

…god damnit…

*humming Family Matters theme song while walking to customer service*

CHRIS: Hey Chris.
ME: Sup Chris? (customer service guy is named Chris, too)
CHRIS: Was that the theme song to Family Matters?
ME: Yep yep. I have it on my iPod.
CHRIS: I love that song! Anyway, there’s your guy.

ME: How you doing today, sir?
CUSTOMER: I wanna return this TV.
ME: OK…what’s wrong with it?
CUSTOMER: It won’t change stations.

*looks at TV*

ME: iLo? What the hell is an iLo?
CUSTOMER: It’s the TV I bought here.

Random TV picture taken from Google Images

ME: Do you have the receipt?
CUSTOMER: No.
ME: When did you buy it?
CUSTOMER: Less than a year ago.
ME: Sir, we don’t sell this TV.
CUSTOMER: I bought it here. The receipt will prove that.
ME: You said you didn’t have the receipt.
CUSTOMER: You don’t believe me?
ME: Its not about that. We need the receipt for a return.
CUSTOMER: I bought it here.
ME: One sec…I’m gonna call someone real quick.

*calls*

ME: OK, sir…from what I’ve been told, we haven’t sold this brand of TV in over three years.
CUSTOMER: I bought it here.
ME: You’ve made that clear, sir.
CUSTOMER: So can I get a new TV then?
ME: No.
CUSTOMER: Why not?
ME: Because you’re full of shit.
CUSTOMER: No, I’m not.
ME: Yes, you are…and here’s why – A) You’ve had this TV for three years. It probably just broke yesterday and you’re trying to replace it with a brand new TV. STFU.
B) Even if you did buy it here, it’s no longer under our warranty and any problems you have are gonna need to go through the manufacturer. GTFO.
And C) Either way, it doesn’t really matter. When my boss gets here in about 30 seconds, she’s gonna tell you to STFU AND GTFO. My gut feeling is that you’re not gonna walk outta here with anything. Fifty bucks says you’ll get no replacement TV and that crappy little TV you brought in without a box and, more importantly, without a receipt, will be left laying flat on this counter.
ME: Ah, here she is now.
BOSS: Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Chris’ boss. What can I do for you?
CUSTOMER: I have this TV and it broke.
BOSS: Do you have the receipt?
CUSTOMER: Umm…no.
BOSS: OK…well, I’m gonna have to ask you to please STFU & GTFO.
ME: You owe me $50, shithole!

OK…how the fuck do you “accidently” take crystal meth? You accidently trip and fall. You accidently miss the toilet when vomiting after an all-night drinking binge. You don’t accidently take crystal meth.

Official: Yes, Andre…please have a seat.
Agassi: *frantic* A seat? A seat? Oh my God! Where? Where is it? *scratches arms violently* Ah!!!! It’s a seat! It’s a seat! Ahhh, the pressure! (Author’s note: Picture Tweek from South Park.)
Official: You OK, Andre?
Agassi: Just too much coffee this morning…and these bugs keep pecking at my arms.
Official: Sounds like swine flu.
Agassi: …huh?
Official: Well, I called you in here today because there appears to be a problem with your last drug test.
Agassi: Drug test? I took a drug test?
Official: Yeah, last week, remember? You kept yelling at Dr. STFU to hurry and GTFO so you could watch Wopner.
Agassi: Ohhhh…that drug test? *scratches arms* What sort of problem?
Official: Your urine sample tested positive for crystal meth, Andre.
Agassi: Really? *looks around nervously* No shit?
Official: …no shit…crystal meth…
Agassi: That’s odd. I’ve never touched the stuff. *bites nails*
Official: Can you explain how it got in your system?
Agassi: Not at the moment…

*30 minutes later*

Agassi: Oh shit…I got it! I mean…I think I remember now.
Official: …ok
Agassi: Funny story, actually. OK, so I woke up a little late one morning, which was making me late for my daily workout. So there I was rushing to get ready, right?. On my way through the kitchen I noticed this little marshmallow on the table. So on my way out, I grabbed it and ate it for breakfast. I guess it was a rock of crystal meth which must have been accidently left behind by the guy who broke into my house 10 years ago. My bad.
Official: You’re telling me you mistook a rock of crystal meth for a marshmallow?
Agassi: Yeah…you know, one of them mini ones that you put in hot chocolate?
Official: A mini-marshmallow?
Agassi: Yeah, that’s right.
Official: That you put in hot chocolate?
Agassi: Totally.

*long pause*

Official: Whew! Thank God it was an innocent and honest mistake.
Agassi: I know, right.
Official: I was worried there for a bit.
Agassi: Don’t be. It was a total accident, I assure you.

Are you friggin serious, Andre?

STFU & GTFO

(See how I worked the STFU in there? Pretty cool, huh?)

Anyway…

Baseball, or some form of it, has been played in this country since the Civil War. Yet, you’re going to narrow it down to 9 plays? STFU.

Which brings me to my next point…9? Nine plays? Who the fuck has a Top 9, Keith? What…was ten going overboard?
“Tonight on ‘Countdown,’ the top 7.479 3/5 numbers no one cares about.”

I know what you’re going to say – “There are nine innings in baseball.”

Yes, there are nine innings in baseball. But there aren’t nine innings in list-making. STFU and do a Top 10 next time, lazy ass.