I know it’s tough out there, folks. This recession continues to kick us in the proverbial balls at every given opportunity, while hardworking folks have taken to getting 25 bucks to get kicked in the balls in some divey motel at every given opportunity, and that’s just to make sure the cable bill gets paid.
whatever, money is money and i'll be damned if i miss the season premire of :House"
Now you can start looking back at everything that went wrong in your increasingly miserable life, or you can take it from a winner like me: you have the skills and abilities to succeed, Your resume says that and more!
But your cover letter is shit. Let’s take a look at how the pros get their foot in the door. Here’s two examples of how I’ve made it in this world and you haven’t.
Cover Letters: The Deadbolt You Need To Smash To Walk Into the Apartment Of Success!
It’s 42 degrees here at Garbage Day’s Chicago headquarters. You know what that means: bust out the beach blankets, get the lawn darts sharpened and add a Zyrtec to your fistful of antidepressants, anti-psychotics, muscle relaxants and methadone you’re downing with your morning Bloody Mary! It’s time for….
From approximately 1990 until 1996, Gang culture captivated Americans with either massive appeal or sheer terror like a cross between heroes of the wild west and an unstoppable killer from a horror movie.
While middle class white adults trembled in terror of the idea of taking the wrong freeway exit and being carjacked for their ’89 hatchback Rabbit, their own saggy pants children fantasied about that very scenario from the back seat as a means to ditch their lame-ass suburban being for a life of back yard barbecues/topless volley tournament days and nights filled with unprotected sex and random gunshots.
Ah, Valentine’s. Naysayers be damned, there is a certain feeling in the air that makes for romance that shakes the heavens. Relationships will blossom and with a little luck and a lot of hard work, might blossom into marriage. Pretty awesome, right?
With Valentine’s Day upon us, that sinking feeling that you’re damned to die alone is more prevalent than ever. Believe us, we’re there with you. Oh god, are we there.
But you can’t keep a good group of hack writers down! That’s why we’re proud to announce:
Garbage Day’s Lovelife Advice (A.K.A. “Please God, Don’t Let Me Die Alone”) Bonanza!
Here’s how it works: You write to us at everydayisgarbageday@gmail.com with all of your relationship questions and we’ll answer them right here on this page!
Trying to tell that special someone how you feel? We got it!
Just been dumped? We’ll tell you how to cope!
Do they just want to be friends? We’ll tell you how drunk you have to get them!
It burns when you take a piss? Penicillin! Lots of it!
So write in now with all your questions…no problem is too small for the certified love doctors at Garbage Day.
All letters must be received by February 12th.If you want to remian anonymous or what have you, let us know in the letter. We might oblige.
In the meantime look for other love-related articles (but mostly non-love related articles) right here on Garbage Day!
I’m gonna dispel a common myth: being a comedy blogger does not get you the type of ass one would think it does. And being a manchild, I have…erm..needs. Needs which must be met, preferably with as little amount of claw marks to my face as possible.
It’s hard to meet women. Actually, strike that. It’s easy to meet women. All one needs to do is step foot out the door and visit a local bar. With a slight amount of confidence and a large amount of booze, you’ll be chatting away in no time.
But fuck that. I don’t want conversation and I certainly don’t want another friend. Dinner and drinks? Psh. Catching a movie and coffee? No ma’m.
All of the aforementioned are just the middleman between a guy and getting some. In a move of sheer brilliance, I took to the internet to cut out the supurfolous bullshit and make my life more the the R. Kelly song it was meant to be.
pictured: my hero
Waiting for a 12 year old and pee joke? Fuck it, I want it all.
So here’s the ad I put on Craigslist:
The Results? Nothing.
Nothing but girls who thought it was “really funny.” And would like to meet me based on my “sense of humor.” After I tried to explain I wasn’t kidding, all communication halted.
What the fuck, people? Are you telling me there’s no sluts out there?
With Valentine’s day on the horizon, you can be certain the prospective sluts of Chicago have not heard the last from Garbage Day.
