Archive for Hair

On Being A Stinky F*#ker!

Posted in Crap Jobs with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 5, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

I was on the 86 tram today, heading up Smith Street in Collingwood, when a guy got on. He was an unkempt, very Smith-St-looking guy with a big backpack and hair matted into one big dread. Yeah, dead giveaway – one matted dread, not even cool, cared-for dreads plural, but one manky slept-on nest – the mark of a lazy fucker with no sense of self or personal hygiene. I wouldn’t care,  I do hold a certain affection for the squalid sleaziness of Smith St and its population…except that he stank, I mean really stank. He got on the tram and and instantly a wall of  foetid, unwashed rankness seared my eyes and stuck its fingers down my gag reflex. I dry-retched and I could see that everyone around me also appeared to be suffering.

For fuck’s sake, why would you want to be a stinky fucker? Why, out of all the possible choices you could make in life, would you choose not washing yourself? Fuckin’ WHY??? And don’t even try to tell me it’s because he’s poor because I’ll shit in a postpack and mail it to you! I know poverty, I’ve been poor and I’ve travelled to countries where they have real poverty, people still manage to wash themselves. People living on less than a dollar a day still manage to regularly wash their clothes and their bodies and behave like people, so this cunt’s stench is nothing to do with poverty, this was a mother-fucking lifestyle choice! 

Again I will ask: WHY? What does the smelly person get out of being smelly? There must be some upside other than saving water and preserving the world’s soap reserves. What the feculent-rotting-carcass is wrong with bathing?  I mean, when I was 7 I didn’t like having showers but that was more due to their disruption of the day’s activities and their being the precursor to bed-time rather than from a desire to be a stinking shit-merchant. So what is it? Could it be a strategy of dealing with fellatiophobia (the fear of being sucked off)? If so, it’d probably work – 99%* of respondents interviewed said they’d be much less likely to go down on a guy with a cheesy cock. 

I’m all for diversity, I genuinely am. I love that I live in a pluralistic society where people can live more or less however they choose. I don’t look down upon those people who prefer not to conform to sterile consumerist norms. No, I celebrate the individual’s right to choose their own path even when their choices are very different to my own. But there are limits to my tolerance. If you want to smell like spew-flavoured armpits, vintage dick-cheese and a busted arse, go for your life, BUT FUCKING WALK THERE!!! Don’t get on a public tram and make paying customers dry-retch because of your disgusting stink-fetish. I don’t care what reason you’ve got, there’s no fucking justification for it, DON’T BE A STINKY FUCKER NEAR PEOPLE!!! GO STINK IN A FUCKING CAVE, YOU MISERABLE SHIT-SACK!!! It happens all the time, stinky bastards are everywhere, some of them even manage to make an occupation out of it: 

Aaw, maaate, could you spare $2, I’ve gotta…

No, I don’t! Not for you, you fuckin’ stinking shitbag! You’re a smelly mother-fucker and I wish you’d fucking die!!! Fuck off!!! 

Don’t even get me started on beggars. In developing countries, fine – all respect and compassion. In Australia – go fuck yourself! Take your mobile phone and call someone who cares, you junkie cunt! 

I know that sometimes everyone gets a bit sweaty – that’s fine, but fuck it, here’s some guidelines:

  • WASH!!!
  • Yourself and your clothes.
  • With soap.
  • Regularly!
  • DON’T recycle your underwear, you cheesy shit-fuck!
  • If you’re a naturally smelly person, carry deodorant.
  • If you’re going near people, FUCKING USE IT!!! 

I swear my patience with willfully these stinky fuckers is wearing painfully thin. Any decent citizen should be legally permitted to remove a smelly person from public transport, shops, anywhere they become a malignant nuisance, and set them on fire. People complain about passive smoking but inhaling the acrid vapours of decaying flesh and stale body waste is hideous, it’s a fuckin’ crime against humanity. If you want to stink like garbage you should be incinerated like garbage! GET FUCKED!!! If you see a guy with a jerry can on trains and trams around Melbourne, that’ll be me and you better hope you don’t fucking stink!

 

                

*Source: Buck Frain’s Attitudes To Genital Cheese Survey 2008. The other 1% threw up and/or declined to give an intelligible answer.

 

You’re fuckin’ BALD, bitch!

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 23, 2008 by Buck Frain

For fuck’s sake, if you’re bald, DEAL WITH IT! There is nothing more pathetic than a man with fake hair. Except maybe a man with a comb-over, but that’s a really tight call. Hairpieces and comb-overs are stupid. Really, really stupid and rather than making people feel better about themselves they really just serve to fuel fear and insecurity because even if you’ve got the best wig or comb-job in the world and everyone does a really good job to pretend they don’t notice it’s fake, you’ve still got to live with the terror of what would happen if they ever did notice. 

You’ve constantly got to have the hair around a rug trimmed to blend in, there’s re-colouring as you age, and the panic attacks caused be high wind, vigorous exercise or water. Do you really think that hot girl’s gonna go out with you a second time after tearing your toupee off in the throes of passion? Shit, man, you’ll be lucky if she stays to finish the job. My bet is she’ll scream loud enough your neighbours will call the cops and then she’ll leg it naked down the street, you fucking freak! Of course she may just laugh her arse off, rug in hand, you with tape on your scalp and a hard-on – that mood’s killed.

Don’t kid yourself that transplant technology is gonna save you either, cue ball. Even if the grafts take, your real hair still falls out around them so eventually you look like a recovering cancer patient and you can’t ever go back to shaving your head or you’ll reveal the big-arse scar on the back of your skull where they chopped all the graft skin out.

Any way you try to thatch that roof, insecurity is what’s unattractive. Look at the fuckwit in this ad. Hey that’s some pretty lush hair, right? If you look closely I think you’ll see he’s unable to touch it, he goes close but, ooh nah, there’s no running his hands through those thick locks. There’s something in his voice too, you can hear it, it’s like a little inner cry, a teary voice going: Nah, man, I’ve got hair now. You can’t call me baldy anymore ’cause I’ve GOT hair. Yeah! It’s REAL, man! It’s fuckin’ REAL! …is!…SHUT UP!…bastards. He’s not enjoying the confidence, six-pack or not, he’s a scared little bitch. He’s more of a baldy now than he’d be if he had the balls to cut his hair short and admit it. YOU’RE FUCKIN’ BALD, BALDY!!! BALDY, BALDY, BALD, BALD!!!