Ridiculous, Sorta Racist Porno Title

I realized that apparently, “Oh No! There’s a Negro in my Wife” Volumes 1-3 were so successful that making the fourth DVD was a logical move.



Dressing my own Salad

I hate having to dress my own salad.  I’m just no good at it.   Sure, anyone can just “pour dressing on a salad”.  It’s distribution and proper mixing where I fall short.  In this instance, I was blessed with a plastic container, which greatly increases my likelihood of achieving some semblance of an evenly dressed salad. But put me in a buffet line, and I‘m hopeless.  You’re telling me I have to dress a small portion of salad on my flat plate without getting runoff vinaigrette all over my manicotti?

And somehow, all the dressing manages to accumulate onto one piece of cucumber, so I’m forced to rub that cucumber all over the naked greens, painting them with dressing, like I’m some sort of big fat idiot.




It’s (Not) The End Of The World As We Know It…

I realized it’s completely unnecessary to inform everyone that you’re still alive because the whole “end-of-the-world” thing was fictional.



Overcrowded Single-Occupancy Men’s Room

I think you’ve got the whole human waste disposal thing taken care of with the toilet. There’s really no reason you need to bring an auxiliary urinal into the equation just because it’s the men’s room. Looks like the owner of this bar wants to segregate bodily wastes at all costs… he must be a part of the whole “uro-fecal segregation” movement I’ve been hearing so much about.

“If you have to shit, fine, use the toilet,” said the Owner. He continued, “But if you have to pee, do NOT use the toilet. Urinal’s to the left. And don’t even think about dropping off a combo platter into this toilet. You know the deal—urinate to left, defecate to the right. Go back and forth 6 times if you have to, I don’t fucking care. Even if you squeeze out a few and then need to pee a little more, stand up, do your business in the urinal, retreat to the toilet. Everyone knows you can’t mix urine and feces in the same toilet. Are you fucking nuts? You wanna kill everyone in here?”




Thanks for Clarifying…

I realized that someone got a little trigger-happy with the label maker.




Words I Realized: Daylis

Daylis [dey-lis], n – a food item that has become oversaturated with dipping sauce due to the mishandling of said item during sauce application

No, no seriously, that’s fine.  Go ahead and stick your rancid, saliva-covered fingers into the nacho cheese that we’re SHARING, so you can fish out your broken-off chip shard.  We wouldn’t want you to lose half a chip, now would we?  Better to put your fingers in my cheese.  Next time I’m at your place for a barbecue, I’m going to intentionally drop a cherry tomato in the ranch dressing, but I’m going to make it look like an accident.  “Oops, haha.  Slippery little bugger. I’ll grab it out of the dressing right after I unpack those vials of HIV-positive blood samples.”

After eating yet another daylis, Forrest finally surrendered his chopsticks and ate the sushi with a fork.

Wait, daylis?? I don’t get it… Can you explain?



Men Pages

I realized that if you want to go to MenuPages.com, but mistype it as MenPages.com, you might wind up accidentally looking at gay porn.  For 20 minutes. Accidentally.



Word Verification Interpretation

Okay, I literally have no idea how to even begin deciphering this. Chraphyisi?  Diroxylusi?  What’s the point of this exactly… to make sure that no one is able to use your website?  You’re gonna go out of business, not because people don’t want your tickets, but because people are physically incapable of ordering them.  Are you trying to prevent computer programs from creating thousands of accounts and buying up all your tickets?  Why is that a bad thing?  YOU’RE SELLING ALL YOUR TICKETS.

Oh, and apparently, the letters are not case-sensitive.  Gee, thanks for the help!  I can leave the shift key out of this one.  It’s just me and the alphabet.




Dealing with a Wet Face

We’ve all been there. You’re at a party and you get a little overheated.  You make your way into the restroom and rinse off your face.  Then, it hits you.  Either I’m walking out there with a dripping wet face, or I’m going to suck it up and use the moist, limp hand towel that everyone’s been using all night.

Let’s examine the alternatives.  You can exit the bathroom with a clammy face and explain to everyone outside the restroom that you are damp, not because you were over-exerting yourself in the bathroom, but because you didn’t want to use the soiled hand towel to dry your face.  You could also chance it with the toilet paper and try to not leave debris stuck to your chin (below).

You decide to swallow your pride and grab that hand towel.  The terry-cloth is damp and cool to the touch.  You think to yourself, “Who was just in the bathroom before me?”  With each passing wipe, your face is drier, but you can’t help but feel dirtier than you did before.  But hey, at least you don’t have toilet paper on your face.




Misleading Product Names

I realized that a pedometer not only counts how many steps you take, but also sounds like a tool used to measure your likelihood of… ya know… being attracted to small children.




Words I Realized: Groner

Groner [groh-ner], n –a unit of food, as part of a gathering of similar units, that is disfigured, discolored, and/or malformed to the point of inedibility

Eat that?  I don’t even want to touch that.  I don’t wanna catch what it has. And it definitely has something.  Because it’s the only one like that.  You can’t be the only grape looking like that and “not have something going on internally”.  If all the grapes were playing kickball, this grape would definitely get picked last because it’s literally halfway to becoming a raisin.

Keith didn’t want the sketchy green potato chip at the bottom of the bag, but when Cynthia asked him to prove his devotion to her by eating the groner, he had to say, “Okay”.

Wait, groner?? I don’t get it… Can you explain?




Pocky For Men

I realized that the days of gender-neutral candy are over.




Men Who Leave The Stall Door Open While Urinating

I am not shitting, I assure you.  I am only peeing.  I’ve left the door open on purpose as indisputable evidence that I am only urinating.  I’m surrounded by defecators, and I don’t want that guy at the sink thinking it’s me stinking up the place.  I’m peeing.  Homeboy next to me is shitting.

So when you go back out there, make sure to tell people that I was not shitting…  but only if they ask.  Don’t just go out there and announce it, completely unsolicited.




Until Monday…


Exciting news heading into the weekend – WIR has gone global. We have finally launched our international site, www.whatirealised.com, which will direct you right over to whatirealized.com. Also, in the unfortunate event of a typo, www.whatirealize.com also directs you to whatirealized.com. You’re welcome.

Blake and Matt

“Healthy” Salads

You want to pig out, but you need to be able to justify it to yourself.  I got you covered.  Do a salad.

“I want eggs on top of my salad.  I also need fried chicken.  Lots of it.  And bacon!  Yes!  And suffocate it all with jizzy honey mustard dressing,” said Margaret.  You know what it sounds like to me?  It sounds like Margaret couldn’t decide whether to order breakfast or lunch, so she decided to get both bacon & eggs and chicken fingers with honey mustard.  Throw the medley on a bed of flaccid lettuce, and now it’s healthy.  Because it’s a salad.





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