So here are my top 10 reasons I hate is how to pass a blood test:

First Off:

Always study at least two weeks in advance. The correct answer will be A, B, or O. Never C.

3 Days Until Your Drug Blood Test:

Start poking yourself with blunt pencils, chopsticks, or plastic restaurant toothpicks. This will get your arm ready for testing. (Heroin users can skip this step)

At the Test:

Don’t pass out while you’re getting blood drawn. Believe me you me you me. That smelling salt does not smell good and makes you feel about as coherent as my last sentence.

After the Test:

Be aware – you may have to retake the test if you forget to answer the essay question.

Good luck!

One of the few classes I didn’t sleep through in college was human anatomy. It was a fun class. I learned a lot about anatomical structure, how the body works, and all that good stuff.

Along with some important information I also heard about a certain 3/5ths concept…

I can’t do this.

I’m sorry, this was a horrible idea for a blog post. I’ll try to stick to offending Santa fanatics.

In two weeks I will be starting a new gig I found on craigslist. Thank you Internet. This will change my life in ways mere mortals cannot possibly imagine: I’ll have to wear a tie.

Oh yeah, and no more going barefoot.

Most of the changes will be excruciatingly painful. But you know what they say, “When life hands you moldy lemons, you make a strange, diluted beverage that no one wants to drink.”

I may not have told you this, but I love cotton candy. I eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a fourth meal I like to call gobblefest. The problem is that everywhere I go people want some of my pink fluffy goodness.

So I’ve decided there’s only one real solution – stop eating cotton candy cold turkey. No more sugar fluff, cotton balls on a stick, or pink candy-fro for me.

Maybe I’ll take up smoking.

Today, scientific tests performed at the Harvard Community College Genetic Match-up Confirmation Place proved the family connection beyond a shadow of doubt. The scientists used a triple-blind backwards study (three blindfolds, one statistician, and a really large keg).

Apparently, both Hillary and Obama shared the same great-grandmother, Condoleezza Clintama.

Frankly, I don’t see the resemblance.

Today, on the 29th day of March 2008 at 7:34pm the world will join hands to celebrate Earth Minute. Dun-dun-dun.

(Dramatic pause)

Tonight – at precisely 7:34pm people worldwide will turn off their lights for one entire minute – or pause their TiVos – whatever’s easier.

By simply turning off the lights you too can stop global warming, save the whales, and eradicate totalitarian dictatorships.

The Power is Yours!

In all seriousness, Earth Hour is tonight at 8:00. So as Mr. Marley says: “Turn your lights down low.”

It’s no secret that I hate Santa. And what I hate even more than the real Santa, relaxing up at the North Pole with his fresh milk and oversized cookies, is all the fake department store santas. I don’t hate department store santas because they’re overweight seasonal workers. I hate store santas because they’re phony and because I don’t like the color red. Yes, I said it. I don’t like red. In fact, I think all primary colors suck.

Unfortunately, sometimes people mistake me for Santa. Damn kids.

That being said, there are 4 main distinguishing factors that make up department store santas: music, diet, transportation, and beards.

Music

Santas: As you might have guessed, store santas love Christmas music. Jingle Bells, Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, and even the Christmas version of It’s a Small World.

Zebras: I’ve been known to sing Grandma got Run Over by a Reindeer after enough eggnog. 7/10.

Diet

Santas: Store santas, as well as the real Santa, like cookies. Gingerbread, chocolate chip, and oatmeal raisin are all equally delicious in the mind of the jolly Christmas man.

Zebras: I’ll admit it – I love me some cookies. 8/10.

Transportation

Santas: Department store santas take the bus, but if they had their choice they’d probably want to pimp their rides just like the real Santa. Few people know this, but Old Saint Nick drives a full-sized, top-of-the-line, Ford sleigh. How do I know it’s a Ford? Well, let’s think about this logically. Everyone knows that Santa’s American – so what else would he drive?

Zebras: I think mass transportation is more efficient and environmentally stable. But I could totally kick ass in a suped up biodiesel Hummer. Vroooom. 8/10.

Beards

Santas: Beards are a quintessential characteristic of the the Claus.

Zebras: Do I like beards? Hell yeah! 10/10.

I live better than a dude working at Burger King. Sure, there are probably Burger King regional managers that live better than I do, but screw them.

And when I say I live better than a dude working at BK, I’m not just talking about this guy.

While Burger King employees may get free soda and burgers, they don’t get to eat my famous Oatmeal Chocolate Chip French Fries. Mmm. So here are five reasons that I, the one and only Zebras, live better than a dude working at Burger King.

Name tags

Instead of a flimsy BK name tag, I have a corporate mandated ID badge with an outdated pic on it. Take that Burger Queen.

Employee Benefits

I have an empty 401(k) and you don’t. Who rocks the party?

Uniforms

I don’t have to wear one (at my second job).

Activities

I get to go to FUN activities like employee productivity planning and incentive reallocation meetings. EVERY DAY.

Motor Vehicles

I have one. Moped, car – what’s the difference?

Throughout history, pants have gone by many names: trousers, britches – and even pants. Yeah.

Pants are really important. Without them, you can’t go to work, the gym, or Pizza Hut.

Let’s say you happen to wake up at 1:00 in the afternoon lying on the gravel in the Pizza Hut parking lot wearing nothing but a t-shirt and your Keds (I swear it never happened). You really only have three choices:

1. Attempt to draw realistic looking pants on your legs.
2. Cover your legs with paper bags.
3. Go home and get some pants.

Of course, in our “theoretical example” you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no paper bags and no pen.

Well, at least I still have shoes.

And the worst part? It’s historically and factually inaccurate. Not all white people are from Angliopia.

Not Coming Soon:

• 5 Septuagenarians I’ve Had Inappropriate Crushes On

• This Haircut Looks Exactly Like Everyone Else’s Haircut

• YES! I Hate That Too