Did I Sepll Tihs Creclorty?

I recently had to conduct very detailed and elaborate research into finding the meaning of a word. I was honestly puzzled as to what in the hell the word could possibly mean. Editor. It turns out an editor is, well... here just read this. 

Now that we are all on the same page and can not only spell the word correctly but properly use it in a sentence, I feel comfortable in saying something. The next person to make a comment about either, A. my spelling, or B. my grammar can go fuck themselves. I am well, and I mean well aware of my issues with grammar and spelling. However I do not feel like this hinders the enjoyability of my booze fueled comical rants. Believe it or not ignoramuses, even professional, money making writers have editors. Hard to believe that someone with the writing prowess of Dan Brown employs someone to proof-read over his treasure hunting shenanigans and make corrections.

So on that note let's consider this post an ad for a job. The job is to be my editor, because I could probably fucking use it. You will not however be getting paid for the job, unless you consider friendship a payment. (I would)

Until I get that editor however, I will continue to spew my creative and original, super opinionated bullshit all over the fucking internet. I will do this until it becomes illegal, because to be honest I think its pretty fucking funny and imaginative. If you don't like dick jokes and sexism, then well I guess you should go fuck off too.

Take a shot of vodka and go watch Highlander.

P.S.- If you could read the title then you are not retarded, and have given me further evidence as to why grammar and spelling aren't as important as the content. Thanks baby.

Boston Jon

Drunk Post Numero Uno

This right here is what I call straight stream of consciousness writing. I ain't worried about grammatical correctness or spelling. Fuck that shit. This is just me, typing shit as it comes.

The first thing I have to say is Quentin Tarentino is the best motherfucking screen writer the world has ever had the luxury to listen to. I love you Aaron Sorkin, but you can fuck off. QT can literally write circles around you.

Secondly, I'm drunk. Really drunk as a matter of fact. To be honest when people refer to nights when they drank way to much and woke up where they didn't fall asleep, I'm well on my way to that that journey. As a matter of fact where the fuck did my bed go, this couch is a mother fucker.

Thirdly, and lastly hopefully, assuming that a fourth unnecessary point doesn't find its way into my too small for my own good brain. Mistakes. Let's all sit down around the camp fire and listen to me tell you; don't do what I did. We all make mistakes, its part of the issue with being a member of humanity. Real unfortunate luck if you want my opinion, but the mistakes just keep coming as fast as I can move my hand south to north up my cock.

Learn from my mistakes readers, learn real well. Listen closely when I tell you that when you have something. When you have something grasped by the balls and ready to dance to your singing, you fucking hold that whatever the fuck it is real close. It can be a person, an animal, or a fucking idea. Whatever it is, and whenever you get it, hold on. Hold on tight. Cause when that thing, person, object or whatever runs free after you let it, it ain't coming back.

My dad told me one time that there is plenty of fish in the sea. He is right, there is millions of little water breathing fagget little fish swimming all around the glorious oceans of this world. As a damn fine fisherman, I'm here to tell you...when you catch that one big glorious, shiny, triumphant mother fucker; you unhook that bitch and hang it on your favorite wall. Cause no matter how many fish in the sea there is, there is only one that will adorn the walls of your domicile better then the rest.

I lost my fish, i lost it to the fucking mistakes that a douchebag, foul mouthed, asshole from Boston looses fish to. Myself. When I'm sitting in front of something waiting for me to facilitate my goods, and i can't find my goods, I knew I had to stop; hold on; this is blog worthy. These readers need a chance to quit the fucking around, and just start doing. So do, do everything and anything that you feel like doing.

Let me make your mistakes, so I have to ability to tell you not to make them again.

Take that shot of fucking vodka, and think for once about what you want. Because it can run away.

This is Boston Jon, I'm going to black out after this drink.

They say if you love something let it go. I want to know if the douchebag who said that died happy. I'm guessing no. If you love something you smother that thing with everything you got and keep it close.

Everything looks good when your smashed!

The Expendables was a steaming pile of mildly entertaining shit. Me and a couple of my friends sneaked in some Four Lokos and watched this a few nights ago. Our brains were then raped with awful for the next ninety minutes.

I got home and since I was buzzing like a fucking bumblebee I decided to take a friends advice and try out video blogging.  It ended up being around fifteen minutes of talking, so I edited some of the unnecessary shit out and tried my hand at "Windows Movie Maker". This is that attempt.




In all seriousness though, this movie was kind of terrible. I was entertained, but save your $10.00 for Piranha 3D this weekend. Take a shot of vodka, and go watch The Transporter.

Boston Jon

The Science of Scare

I am confidant I have personally seen more horror movies then anybody who stumbles across the brilliance that is my blog. It is quite literally my forte. When I hear of people's nightmares it reminds me of my dreams. I love being terrified more then I love ejaculating. I feel it is my responsibility as a horror aficionado to inform my loyal readers of the twenty-five best horror movies to ever grace the silver screen.

First however I'll tell you why I love horror movies so much. This is a blog, I need a chance to write something of substance for fucks sake.

When I was a wee-little lad dressing up as teenage mutant ninja turtles for Halloween I had no idea what horror even was. On this one magical holiday though I would find out very quickly why some people can't get enough of the blood and guts. I had a bunch of my retarded little buddies over and we were fucking around trick or treating and shit. I was warned as my wonderful mother went to sleep, to under no circumstances watch the movie Halloween. What the fuck do you think I did?

I shit my pants for the better part of a month. This was the most terrifying experience to this day I have ever had. The adrenaline and just raw terror that filled my mind and body was completely overwhelming. The reason I love horror movies so much is I want to feel that again, and if a movie doesn't exist that can do it...I will make it. On to the list. I'm not going to link pictures because I'm sure you fucks are intelligent enough to Google a mother fucker. Assume all are the originals unless specified.


25. Black Christmas
24. The Hills Have Eyes (remake)
23. [Rec]
22. Audition
21. Saw
20. Rosemary's Baby
19. Ringu
18. High Tension
17. 28 Days Later
16. The Thing
15. The Evil Dead
14. Suspiria
13. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
12. Ju-On
11. The Exorcist
10. House of 1000 Corpses
9. The Descent
8. Friday the 13th
7. Psycho
6. Night of the Living Dead
5. Nightmare on Elm Street
4. Alien
3. The Shining
2. Jaws
1. Halloween

Take a shot of vodka, and get scared shit-less.

Boston Jon

The Booby Trap

Piranha 3D is going to win Best Picture of 2010. Here's why.

People go see movies because they want to escape from their boring, monotonous, shitty lives. Movies about boring, monotonous, shitty lives have been winning Best Picture forever. I have faith however that American intelligence has completely flat-lined at the turn of the decade.  

Piranha 3D has my mind so entirely engulfed with the excitement of the release, I almost forgot to see Inception. It has all of the things I, like most sane people in the world, love. Gratuitous nonsensical nudity, partying, and B-movie violence encompass the entire length of this film. Tits, ass, alcohol, sex, blood, guts, guns, fire, and mother fucking lesbians will cover the screen constantly, overloading your brain with happiness.

This movie will be so insanely wonderful, everyone who sees it will immediately purchase another ticket. For its inevitable six months in theaters it will be considered the best way to spend $10. Every magazine in the country will praise it as the greatest accomplishments in American well-being since the microwave.

Take a shot of vodka, and watch great movies,
Boston Jon      




 

Robots can't do everything.

I generally use the internet exclusively for going on Wikipedia and looking at porn, so this is new to me.

I love to talk. Truth be told I never really shut the fuck up. This isn't necessarily a bad thing however as the people subjected to my constant verbal onslaught seem to be in some way entertained. The light bulb in my head turned on and started to glow a brilliant red, and I decided I should start a blog. That's all blogs are right, just jackasses talking about essentially pointless but mildly entertaining shit to become popular? My only real goal in life is to become famous so I figured before I resort to lighting my pubic hair on fire for YouTube laughs I could start here, with this blog. 

I fancy myself somewhat of a good writer. At least thats what my mother always tells me, and she is never wrong. Besides what your reading now, the only other example of my writing prowess on the vast black hole of tits and dicks that makes up the internet is a movie named "Mother". Shameless product placement starting just about now; you should watch "Mother". It's fucking awful, well awfully awesome that is. It was made in twenty-four hours for a film festival here in the lovely city of Orlando. Long story short, the team leader went and picked up a sealed packet that included a genre, props, and shit that had to be creatively included into a five minute movie. It was to be written, directed, and edited in one day. This was surprisingly more difficult that I imagined, yet a hell of a good time. We completed our movie and made top twenty-four in the festival, the only horror movie to do so. I'm pretty fucking proud so watch my movie and support my genius. This is the last I'll speak of that, at least today I promise. 

So what is this blog about I'm sure your wondering at this point, if there is anyone who made it past paragraph number two that is. Basically it's going to be about whatever the fuck I want. Fortunately the only things that really interest me are SEX, VIOLENCE, DRINKING, and MOVIES.  There will of course be deviations from the norm, like today's first blog for instance. The theme of todays foray into the mind of a mad man is that "Robots can't do everything". 

This is a good point to stop as the rest of this is a profanity laden rant about my job as a physical therapist. Shit you may learn something...

Work sucks. Very few people like their jobs, and as a matter of fact most of the people reading this are probably at work killing time before they can get hard again and go jerk off in the bath room. I however, have, at the moment anyway, a pretty awesome job. Like most of the world I hate the fuck out of it, but I have to admit I have it easy. I work with my grandmother who is a LMT (licensed massage therapist) at a pain clinic and I am essentially her assistant and the office gopher. I get to call myself a "physical therapist" to get pussy, and I wear scrubs to work. Free food from medical companies bribing us all the time is one of many perks that also include; stealing random office shit such as pens and paper which cuts down on costs at home, staying clocked in when I leave early, being clocked in when I sometimes decide to just not show up, sleeping whenever I want, defeating their bullshit attempts at censorship and surfing the net freely, among other things that would probably make you cubicle drones salivate all over your BlackBerry. 

I am pretty grateful for getting paid $10 an hour as a twenty year old college guy. Contrary to popular belief I actual do a lot of work as well, I'm just better at time management then my coworkers. That and I don't do busy work, fuck that shit. I do treat patients and handle all of the scheduling, filing therapy charts, and I am the exercise guy. However, morally I am sick to my stomach at what goes on at facilities like this. Mark my words someday I will make a satirically movie about all this dirty undercover shit I know about. I deal with the scummiest people in the world, and the fucked up thing is they are the people we are supposed to trust; doctors and lawyers.

Usually this information and hatred is left bottled up inside me well I drink my misery away but recently management made a ground breaking decision in replacing my useless self...robotic massage. Sounds lovely doesn't it? One of the most intimate and hands on jobs anyone can even have is being replaced by some fucking robot named Thermo or something retarded.

Replace me with a mother fucking robot and I will bring your walls down. I wasn't feeling overly creative for my first entry so I'm just going to rant at how unbelievably fucking evil this business is.

Florida is a no-fault state when it comes to car accidents, which really just means when to people hit each other with their cars they sue the shit out of each other until someone's life is ruined. Naturally whoever is wealthiest will have a better lawyer and therefore win the case. This usually results in the other person's life being destroyed. Most of the time the patients I treat aren't even in pain and are just fakers working on their case. The real injured people that I would love to help, but can't, are left to fend for themselves and generally loose their jobs and then subsequently their cars, homes, family, etc. Fun isn't it.

It all starts with my disgustingly overweight, excuse me, ex-disgustingly overweight office manager. Liposuction does wonders to a five hundred pound greasy piece of shit now a days. This fat fucks entire job revolves around making lawyers want to send their clients to us after getting in a car accident. How does he does this you ask? It certainly isn't with his boyish good looks, as this crooked tooth mother fucker is as ugly as they come. He uses grotesque amounts of company money to take them out to expensive dinner and essentially just kisses their lying asses for hours on end. That is about it. Best job in the world if you don't mind being a giant scum bag. The only thing that he manages is the amount of Parmesan cheese he puts on his extra greasy large pizzas he eats for breakfast, lunch, and the dinner.

I've been working three long years at this hell hole at forty hours a week and I'm still not considered full-time. This is mostly due to the fact they "can't" afford it. Of course my fat managers fat daughter drives a Lexus to work and makes more money then I do, to quite literally do nothing. Her job description is to sit around and pretend like she is busy while she texts her buddies, and of course to fuck my friends. You know who you are. Hope you read this one day you little whore. I honestly don't give a shit though, I make enough money to have fun pretty much all the time and still pay my bills, and I never get hurt so the lack of health care that should be provided doesn't bother me too much. Three years and no raise isn't that strange I suppose. Interesting though how my job is constantly threatened at slow times because they are broke yet they can afford a $150,000 robotic massage thing.

Go ahead cut my hours even though I've been working their longer then half the staff. Vacation pay? Well the bosses daughter gets it instead of me, even though she works fifteen measly hours a week.

The biggest scumbag of them all is the owner. The doctor himself. The one person except maybe cops and firefighters whose sole purpose in life is to help people. This vindictive, dirty, conniving, goofy bastard is the godfather of scum. Remember all those free lunches I told you about? We get them from medical facilities such as MRI places and XRAY places. Every once in a while though the Oxycontin representative will grace us with his presence. This man's job is to convince is to prescribe his drug to everyone in the fucking world. His drug happens to be overly addictive. His drug happens to kill people. That's right folks kills people. With bribes of what I am assuming is grotesque amounts of money this asshole comes in here and caters to the greed of the good doctor. I'm sure you can imagine what he does. Fucked up isn't it? 

Now that all of that is off my chest I swear the rest of my blogs will be about sex, violence, and movies. This shit is entirely too depressing anyway. 

Thanks for reading folks, stick with me for the ride. I will be famous one day. 

Take a shot of vodka and love the Sox forever,

Boston Jon