Weirder than midget porn. More metal than your mom.


Life Is So Damn Silly

I know my little site here is in blog-hospice, so allow me to use it’s last few breaths to pay my respects to one of the funniest, most talented human beings that has ever existed who, sadly, decided it was time to call it a day. Forever.

.... fuck.

Life fucking sucks, you guys. 

I know that’s terribly negative, but it’s the truth. Anyone who be quick to challenge that statement, DON’T BOTHER, because you’re wrong. You’re more wronger than 2+2=7.

Don’t believe me? Then I highly suggest you google “life and things” and “the news” and read up on the ungodly horrible shit that’s happening everywhere on a daily basis. If after that you’re still not convinced, then best wishes in your rose-tinged little bubble, weirdo. If you’re the type who looks at life and thinks,”You know what? There is nothing insane about how things are. Everything is perfectly acceptable and wonderful and I wonder what Kim Kardashian had for breakfast this morning”, then there is something absurdly wrong with you, and we can’t be friends.

I really should note here that I am not saying that “everything is terrible, therefore no one should enjoy life and we should just sit and dwell on the awfulness until we die, the end”. Nothing could be further from that. I’m simply acknowledging that LIFE IS HEAVY. It’s heavy, and it’s hard, and it fucking hurts, and sometimes it hurts so much to where you simply “can’t” anymore.

This is why comedy is so important.

Laughter eases the burden of life. It lightens the load off your shoulders, even if just for a little while.  Comedy takes the mundane and the terrible and fashions it into a picture that allows you to see it in an entertaining light. I can’t even tell you how many times comedy in some form or another has saved my sorry ass from getting swept away in a dark shitnado when life was becoming ‘too much’. Laughing is my religion and comedy is my personal Jesus. If you’ve never tried laughing when you feel like shit, then I highly recommend it.

That’s what makes someone like Robin Williams such a magnificent human being. He didn’t just ‘do’ comedy. He WAS comedy. The man was a walking jukebox of delight that was always on for our entertainment and joy . He spent his entire life dedicated to bringing happiness to others, whether it was on stage, on camera, or to strangers on the street. The best part? He was a humble about it. He did a LOT for the benefit others without making a big “look at me and all the good I’m doing” fuss that a lot of celebrities do. He just “did it”, because he was a genuinely kind and real person. Yes, he was far from perfect, just like the rest of us. We all fucking suck in our own ways, but that doesn’t negate whatever goodness we have within us, and from what I can tell, he had a lot of it.

The hardest battle we fight as humans is the wars within ourselves.* It breaks my heart to think of a man like him struggling with his darkness despite the light that he exuded. This might come across as dark and fucked up, but I’ll say, if there is any positive to be drawn from this, it’s that at least he doesn’t have to fight anymore.

As per usual, I can’t figure out how to close this post up, so I’ll leave you with one of my favorite Robin Williams moments. It was a very hard challenge to pick which one, since there is so many, so I went with one of his old stand up bits from back in the 70’s.

RIP, Robin Williams

The end.

PS. To those of you who are calling him, as well as anyone else who commits suicide, “weak” and “selfish”, you may go butt-fuck yourself with the business end of a pineapple while a hobo takes a hellacious dump on your head. Jerk.


*I don’t know if that is a quote or something I made up just now, so if it is a quote, don’t judge me for not citing who said it.

Ham Jesus And Sometimes Pie


Happy Easter, the Internet!

I do hope everyone is enjoying the day. While Easter is my second favorite holiday, I opted to work today because I like money more than I like eating ham and chocolate with my family (also because I’m a heathen who views Easter as the ultimate sex holiday, and seeing as how not a lot of folks are on board with that, it’s just easier to avoid social gatherings on this day all together). I will say that I am actually a little bummed that I’m not at home smiling and nodding into my mashed potatoes while pretending to be interested in a full recap of the three hour sermon my good, wholesome family attended this morning. This is another “food holiday”, and the fat girl in me sure loves any day where I can openly display my ability to ingest horrifying quantities of  meat and biscuits in one sitting.

“OMG, Cerebral Milkshake, how dare you say the “F” word! That’s a very insensitive and it hurts the Internet’s feelings!.”

RELAX, it’s cool.. I used to be incredibly overweight once, so I’m totally allowed to use the “F” word. I mean, shit, what other words should I use? Chubby? Rotund? Packed with adipose? There really is no graceful way to say it, and one does not simply ignore the inner fat girl. SHE NEEDS LOVE TOO. She also needs pizza. Lots and lots of pizza…. and cookies…. and sometimes pie…. oh fuck yeah… pie….



Speaking of pie and cookies, I’ve been really hyper aware of this remaining five or twenty pounds that’s been clinging for dear life to my ass and thighs lately. It’s been bugging me enough to the point where seeing myself naked in the mirror causes a visceral , “this is such fucking bullshit, what the fuck” reaction from my brain. I suppose I could take the easy route and just “accept myself for the way I am please pass the Entenmann’s” or some shit, but that’s lame. Believe it or not, I’m one of those unpopular weirdos who not only doesn’t mind eating vegetables and engaging in vigorous cardio, but thoroughly fucking enjoys it. What I don’t enjoy is having to surrender the glass of vodka I like to have after particularly long and treacherous work days, and also that in order to lose weight, it’s required that I become a food snob for a bit which tends to make people uncomfortable and even downright not like you. No joke, it is mind blowing how offended some people get when you decline a slice of their delicious banana bread (uhn), and despite explaining the reasons, they assume it’s really because you hate them and will often reply with, “losing weight is terrible, plus one slice isn’t going to kill you, have some right now or we can’t be friends”.

THIS IS FALSE: Banana bread will absolutely kill you if you put enough arsenic in it*, but really what I’m worried about is the fact that I have the sort of metabolism where merely gazing upon a chocolate chip muffin (uhn) for longer than five seconds causes me to gain 5.6 pounds, and that’s the sort of thing that will keep me from achieving my goals.

*Alright, I know, it would technically be the arsenic that kills you and not the banana bread (plus I’m pretty sure my friends wouldn’t poison me, but you never know). Either way, I hate having to explain myself and I don’t understand why “no thanks” isn’t an acceptable response to banana bread.

“Okay, we get it, you want to lose some weight or whatever, but what the fuck does any of this have to do with Easter?”

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, you guys. I went into a completely different direction than I had intended and I’m so far off track that I don’t even remember what the hell I was going to say to begin with. I know it had something to do with rabbits and ham and Jesus and….. mmmmmm….  HAM JESUS….







A Hippo, Some Asians, And A Dash Of Adorable Goats

Hello, The Internet.

I almost forgot, I have a blog. And it’s been over three months since I’ve posted.


My bad. Umm, here, have a hippo.

I have to admit, I have been having a rough go at things. I’ve been stuck in a ‘work and more work and errands and spending all of my free time getting ready for tomorrow’ loop that has mercilessly catapulted me into some dark, murky, life-is-terrible-and-I-hate-everything hole. It was getting so bad that my brain became incapable of using complete sentences and I could only think in angry beeps and clicks, like some sort of malfunctioning, terrible robot who’s primary objective in life was to clean and be at work on time and provide excellent customer service to insufferable blow-hards with runny noses.


Yeah, seriously, stereotypical Asian computer guy, this shet has been terriberr.


Speaking of Asians, I finally decided to see a ‘thoughts and feelings’ doctor. She sort of reminded me of Gollum from Lord of the Rings, except she was squintier and smiled a lot. She had a very thick accent, and out of the whole hour of her listening to my nonsense, the only thing I was able to understand from her was, “you crazy, here have pills, thank you come again”. At least that’s what I think she said. She could have very well said, “I have busy day, please take this to pharmacy for grandma, bring back and I pay you for errand” and now some poor old lady is out of her Alzheimer’s medicine because I’m taking them with my breakfast. Either way, I’M FEELING MUCH BETTER. Almost human, even, and not so much like the monotone hate robot I described a few sentences back. It ‘s like all the pent up emotions and bullshit I’ve crammed deep into my feelings hole got a moderate fisting, causing everything to flow more fluidly and free, which feels somewhat akin to finding a bathroom after you’ve been driving for hours with a belly full of Taco Bell induced apocalyptic diarrhea. IT’S THAT DELIGHTFUL.

Yeah, I went there. Sorry. It's true though, and I know you know exactly what that feels like.

Yeah, I went there. Sorry. It’s true though, and I’m sure you know exactly what that feels like.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a fucking asshole who is often repulsed by the things most people love and cherish in life, and I’ll probably be like this forever, but now I can at least think in complete sentences and deal with the day to day nonsense with a bit better. You know what this (probably) means? Aside from being more willing to leave my house and interact with day to day fucktards, I’m going to write more. One of the few things in life that bring me pure, unadulterated joy is painting pictures with words and entertaining people in the process. I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY, and now I can say it, thanks to being in a state of pharmaceutical-grade happiness and free flowing not-giving-a-fuck.

So, with that, stay tuned. And here is a picture of some goats that are so adorable, it practically hurts my feelings:

goats and shit



Kumbaya, Motherfucker.

Dear 2013,
Your days are numbered, Fucker.

You have crashed this lady party for the last time. No more will you show up at my house hammered and crying over your daddy issues just to puke on my floor and pass out FACE DOWN ASS UP on my bed. In just a day or two, I will hang my new calendar on my wall, forever kicking your free-loading, soul-sucking ass to the curb.

I know, I’m being harsh. Don’t get me wrong, we had some good times. We saw some great shows, had some laughs, celebrated the completion of my thirtieth year of existence in this bat shit crazy thing called life…. We muscled through my moderate claustrophobia and did sensory deprivation tanks. WE DISCOVERED MOTHERFUCKING SUSHI, and that’s better than finding a one-hundred dollar bill or finding Jesus*.

*(I know I know, I’M KIDDING. Few things are more glorious than finding money. But seriously, sushi is delicious and quite possibly the very thing powerful enough to fill the gaping void in what’s left of my soul).

Despite our good times, you’ve been awful. You have sucked the life out of me and kept me in a ceaseless loop of stress and feelings. You’ve done some awful things to a lot of my loved ones. YOU’VE BEEN A GIANT CRAPNADO THAT HAS RESULTED IN A LOT OF SHITASTROPHE IN PEOPLE’S LIVES, and we’re sick of your shit. Hell, I don’t even celebrate New Years, but this time around I’M WEARING A FANCY PARTY HAT AND SINGING KUMBAYA WHILE DRINKING BLOOD or whatever it is people do at midnight, just for the sake of rejoicing your departure.

Because fuck you, 2013. Fuck you in your dirty whore butthole. Have fun drowning in your tears when everyone throws out their calendars and moves on.

                         As for you, 2014? BRING IT.



What say you, Reader? Are you ecstatic/sad/indifferent/potato as fuck for the new year?

Halloween, you sneaky fuck. Now I have to get ready for Santa after I’m done eating the rest of this person.


Remember when I was sick with a virus in my last post?

Turns out it was no ordinary virus. I had ingested a sort of airborne pathogen  that makes your skin rot off your body and kills your brain function. It also makes you aggressively try to eat people, which is quite detrimental to my already semi-fragile social skills. PEOPLE DON’T LIKE IT WHEN YOU MUNCH ON THEM WHEN THEY’RE JUST TRYING TO MAKE CONVERSATION.

Yep… I’ve turned into a zombie and now you all are nothing but a bunch of walking donuts to me.

Well, fuck, there goes what's left of my hopes and dreams.

Well, fuck, there goes what’s left of my hopes and dreams. Sorry for chewing on your face.

Just kidding. I didn’t turn into a zombie. While it’s fun to think about and also gives me an excuse to own more than four machetes, literal* zombies don’t exist and the ‘zombie apocalypse’ is probably not going to happen.

*I say literal because figurative ones are everywhere. Empty, brainless folks shuffling about but instead of ‘brraaaiiinnns” they’re all, “wwwiiiiii-ffiiiiiii”.
But that’s a post for a later day.

While this is a legit picture of yours truly, that’s just me when I first get up in the morning latex and toilet paper hanging off my face, not peeling dead flesh, as I was a last-minute zombie this year for Halloween.

I am sort of bummed. Halloween is my favorite time of year, and it was a sneaky little fuck this time around, so I never really had the time to bask in it’s dark, creepy goodness. I should have taken a hint from the white, sparkle-cap wearing suburbinites mainlining pumpkin spiced lattes in the streets that Autumn was upon us and that it was time to get ready for my favorite holiday, but I was somehow oblivious this year. I EVEN HAD A COSTUME PLANNED OUT, but the only way I could have required the additional time in my life that would have been required to do would have been to sacrifice a small, adorable creature to the Time Gods in a ritualistic fashion and, sad to say, I’m fresh out of kittens.

So, I settled for a run of the mill zombie this year. I will say, it was rather fun to do and I thoroughly enjoyed scaring the fuck out of the people at the gas station we stopped at while on the way to a costumed event with Caveman. I know it’s not nice to scare people, but in my defense, I am an asshole.

Want to know how to get this look for next year? It’s easy!


1. Liquid Latex
2. A lot of toilet paper (separated so it’s single ply)
3. Makeup (I used black and white creme makeup mixed with a little splash of my regular foundation)
4. Disposable makeup sponges
5. Black and grey eyeshadow
6. Makeup brushes that you don’t care about
7. Fake blood (find a recipe online because the stuff you buy in tubes looks sort of cheesy)
8. Two shots of whiskey

Step one:

Take a shot of whiskey

Step two:

Assemble all of the other things on your face in a way that makes you look like a yucky zombie

Step three:

Down remaining shot of whiskey.

The end.


What did you readers do for Halloween? Was it magical as fuck? ARE YOU ALL BRACING YOURSELVES FOR SANTA BECAUSE HE’LL  BE COMING IN YOUR CHIMNEY SOON.

Err, um… yeah.

Please Refrain From Hosing Me With Your Sickness Because I Am Not A Glittercorn

Hello, The Internet.

I am really sick right now.

I do not mean sick in a “oh dear, I have the sniffles, I must be dying” sort of way, or sick in a “gee, I sure hope no one goes through my internet history if I die today from said sniffles because they will know just how incredibly fucked in the head I was in real life” . Don’t get me wrong, I do have a horribly runny nose and a slight fear someone will figure out my computer password after I leave this life, but I’m referring to the, “fuck this fever, body aches, chills, I hope the dick-hole that coughed in my face last week stubs his toe so hard that it ruins his gait for a month” kind of sick.

Okay, I’m sort of kidding about calling dude a dick-hole and wishing him discomfort. In his defense, I was sticking an eight inch Q-Tip into the back of his throat, and let’s face it, it’s hard to take eight inches of anything in the mouth without coughing or gagging AMMIRIGHT, LADIES???

fuck yeah.

fuck yeah, ladies.

“WTF, CM, that was really inappropriate. Also, why are you giving that guy shit for coughing when you were, in fact, poking his throat with a long object?”

Yes, you’re right, that was HIGHLY inappropriate. Please forgive me. I don’t have a lot of gal-pals, so I look for any opportunity for lady bonding. And like I said, I was mostly kidding about calling the poor sick sap that I was poking with a stick a ‘dick-hole’. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, you see. I can’t even begin to tell you how many people vigorously and unabashedly hack their diseased sputum in my face and, in response to my wincing with dread of all the potential diseases that I just ingested, retort with, “what do you care? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU PEOPLE GET SICK.”

You people. Meaning health care workers.

I have to say, out of all the incredibly stupid things that come out of people’s’ faces at my job, the thing that floors me the most is something that I hear MULTIPLE times a day, and that’s, “IT’S AMAZING HOW YOU GUYS NEVER GET SICK”.

Not only do people say this, but they fucking mean it.

I wish I were joking. If I had a dime for every time I hear this mind-blowing statement, I would be raking in at least thirty cents a day. Times that by four and a half (the average amount of shifts I work per week), that comes out to roughly 280-something a year, and I could buy a really awesome thing with that many extra dollars* in my pocket.

*I’m sure the math isn’t entirely accurate here, but whatever. My head is stuffy and fevered and I want a cookie because everything sucks right now, so don’t judge.

What I wouldn’t do to be able to charge such an asshole-fee for being subjected to such nonsense on a regular basis. Sure it’s easy to shrug off the blatant stupidity of others, but after a while, the shit just adds up and makes my brain hurt, and I WANT COMPENSATION FOR THIS FUCKITRY, DAMMIT. How did the notion get started that people in health care are impervious to germs and viruses in the first place? Sure, we develop some immunity to bugs over time, and while we appreciate being viewed as some sort of mythical creature with super human abilities, let me assure you, we are not magical flying fucking glittercorns and we get sick just like everyone else. Trust me, I have the inflamed tonsils and sweaty shirt to prove it.

So, with that, next time you’re at a doctor’s office and you find yourself coughing up the contents of your lungs into the face of the doctor or their assistant, just remember, THEY ARE JUDGING YOU FOR BEING AN INCONSIDERATE DICK.

“Please, be a doll and cover your fucking mouth”*~ every health care worker, ever.

The End.

*please disregard if you are not an inconsiderate dick or if you don’t have arms.

I will twerk on a corpse and all over this awkward situation

Hello, Internet.

Have we all recovered from the earth-shattering “Billy Ray Cyrus Didn’t Love Me As A Child” display put on by Hannah Montana last week?

Fuck, I hope so.. it was super hilarious at first, but then people were just going on, and on, and on about it and the memes that followed became repetitive and mediocre at best. I really could have cared less about the whole ordeal, honestly. The only real shocking thing she did was use a foam finger in ways that I never thought of, thus putting my sexual imagination to shame.

“But, Cerebral, you have daughters, aren’t you concerned about how such a display may influence their behavior?”

Yes, I certainly have daughters, and that’s the sort of activity I would not want them to engage in, but they don’t know who Miley Cyrus is because they listen to Slayer. Also, we didn’t watch the VMA’s because we lack cable and MTV sucks.

You know what concerned me the most? THAT BIZARRE SHIT SHE WAS DOING WITH HER TONGUE. It was weird as fuck and I thought that it could have been a sign that she was losing control of her facial muscles and in need of medical attention.

Miley Cyrus doing things

I don’t understand this, was she having a seizure? Licking mayo from a delicious sandwich off her cheek? Hinting that she would like to have a penis in her mouth? SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN THIS BECAUSE IT’S BOTHERING ME

I’m also fairly certain that her arrythmic, white-girl ass shaking was not twerking. I could be mistaken, as my knowledge of modern rad dance moves is slightly below average at best, but it looked more like she was just bending over and wiggling her cooter at the audience. Again, I could be wrong.. I, myself, am not a twerker, though I sort of wish I was. Not because it would help me feel sexy or because it’s a skill I wish to add it to my resume or anything, but because IT WOULD COME IN HANDY. Confused? THINK ABOUT IT:

Scenario: You are at the grocery store and you need to buy some broccoli. A lonely, random stranger in the produce area strikes up a casual conversation with you: “Hi! You need to buy some broccoli? I like broccoli. I eat it raw a lot but sometimes I cook it and add it as a side to my dinner. I had pork chops yesterday. It was pretty good except it needed some salt and I was all out so I had to just add extra pepper. So, are you single? Have any kids? WHERE DO YOU LIVE AND ARE YOU CURRENTLY MENSTRUATING??”

You could always answer his questions or be a total bitch and tell him to eat shit, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, POP ‘DEM CHEEKS ON DAT BROCCOLI, YO. It’s very likely that he will become startled and perhaps a little frightened and trip over himself as he backs away, causing him to hit his head and knock himself unconscious, giving you an opportunity to get your veg and make your get away.

THIS CAN APPLY TO MANY SITUATIONS IN YOUR LIFE. Is your friend fishing for compliments on her ugly baby and you don’t know what to do? TWERK AT THAT UGLY BABY TO GET YOURSELF OUT OF HAVING TO LIE. Got busted falling asleep during a sermon at church? GET UP ON DAT PEW AND DO A MAD TWERK FOR JESUS. Taking a leisurely stroll through the park and come across a zombie? SPOOKY BOOTY BOUNCE ON DAT CORPSE.

"LOL, wut"

“LOL, wut”

Err, umm… yeah.. maybe that’s not such a great idea. If you encounter a zombie, you should run away or shoot it instead of clapping your cheeks against it’s rotting flesh.

Alas, I will never conquer the fine art of twerking, because I’m white as fuck (seriously, I’m a Tupperwear party and a pair of Crocs away from being clear, that’s how white I am). Also, you need a round booty to be a twerk-master, and my white-lady ass is made of squares. It’s probably just as well. A skill like that would probably get me into trouble, what with twerking on babies and what not. Who’s to say I wouldn’t do something really awful, like twerk on your mom’s cat or on a cop to get myself out of a ticket? Those sorts of things never end well.

Speaking of ending, here is a video of what happens when a white girl twerks because THE END.


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