Advice For Trashy People.

Tonight, I want to bring a bit of laughter into your home. Your weekend is finally here. It's time to enjoy a few beers, take your shoes off and relax. This is intended as a work of comedy... but in all reality, I'm being very serious.

This afternoon, I took a trip to a local Wal-Mart to pick up some supplies. Obviously, the miscreants and degenerates I encountered served as a point of inspiration. Upon these blessed little tidings of trashiness, I found my muse.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. I present to you a new segment I like to call...

ADVICE FOR TRASHY PEOPLE!

• Tuck Your Gut In. As surprising as it may be, no one wants to see the fat jiggling out the bottom of your shirt. Either wear a shirt that hangs lower or stop wearing belly shirts. This has nothing to do with you being fat (I'm fat). More so, this has to do with you looking halfway intelligent. The rippling blubber pouring forth from your tiny top is not attractive. It just makes you look like a depraved ass.
• The Fire Lane Is Not Your Personal Parking Spot. Instead of idling your odorous, filthy 1996 Toyota Previa (with mismatched doors) in the fire lane at the front of a department store, try parking it in one of those lined-off empty spaces in the parking lot. I'm certain that it's important for your girlfriend to quickly retrieve milk formula for one of her five screaming demon spawn, but I'm sure she could walk from the parking lot in a reasonable amount of time. Based upon the size of her back-boobs, the walking would probably do her some good anyway. There's a reason it's called a fire lane... BECAUSE IT'S FOR FRICKIN' FIRE TRUCKS!
• You Can't Mask Funk With Perfume. This shouldn't need any explanation, but it unfortunately does. Washing your body with soap and water can work miracles. Then, once you've dried yourself off, apply deodorant under your arm pits (more than one application in a day is perfectly acceptable). Merely pouring perfume or body spray all over yourself does not hide the funk radiating from your near-rotten carcass; it merely accentuates the filth and makes it carry farther down wind. If I'm standing behind you in a checkout line and make a strange face, then it's probably because you smell like a camel's taint.
• Your Children Are Not Cute. That's right... we all hate your kids. They're good-for-nothing brats that are driving all the other customers in the store absolutely insane. Instead of ignoring the venomous rascals, try this little tactic called parenting. Get them in order, stop letting them scream and make noise and encourage them to CHILL THE HELL OUT!
• Your Stories Suck. I came to the store to purchase things I need. I did not come to hear you relate a story about skinning a deer. I don't care what knife you used to skin the deer. I don't care about the size of the deer. I don't care about how big the antlers were. I certainly don't care that it tasted real good. What do I care about? The footage of you circulating the internet. You know... the video where you drop your shotgun and accidentally blow your manhood off, all the while trying to look cool on your webcam. Yeah... that story I care about. YOU - OUTTA THE GENE POOL!
• Don't Wear Pajama Pants In Public. This one is easy. When trying to make a monumental decision like which pants to put on and wear in public, here's an easy guideline to work from. Are your pants pajamas and intended for comfort or slumber? THEN DON'T WEAR THEM IN PUBLIC YOU INSOLENT DONKEY!
• Wash Your Hands. If I happen to visit the lavatory while in a department store, I wash my hands after using the facilities. Trust me... I notice when you walk into a washroom, touch your private bits and don't wash your hands. This is especially true if you make a bowel movement, then vanish without so much as flushing the toilet or getting your hands the slightest bit wet. Not only are you helping to spread disease (like Ebola), but you're not giving any due regard to the other people you might encounter. No one wants to touch your shit fingers!
• Put Your Vaporizer Away. We get it... you're an 'oppressed smoker' whom has lost the right to inhale your cancer in public. But then, little baby Jesus himself delivered the miraculous answer you've been waiting for -- the vaporizer! Now you can suck on that metal cylinder anywhere you want and breathe in the sweet margarita-flavored vapor you've always dreamed of. No worries, right? WRONG! Your harmless vapor smells like mule piss! Just because it's not technically smoke doesn't mean you can walk around in a cloud of nicotine bliss, all the while forcing your fellow man to encounter and smell it. Part of the problem with smoking to begin with was the stinky cloud of smoke wafting into a room and making it smell terrible. The vapor is no different, only this go round it's worse because now you can claim you're not spreading cancerous second-hand smoke. Hurrah -- I don't (potentially) have to die to smell your fumes of death. I get to live forever and ever enjoying your pungent aroma of feculence. OH JOY!