Archive for December, 2010

First off, we here at DECF would like to apologize profusely for tucking and running for, oh, over a month or so. We’d like to…but we can’t. You see, certain things happened that necessitated our running away like little girls who just had their first period in the middle of gym class. (Gross. – ed.) Most specifically, our golden goose, KaosTheory, decided that it was not only ideal but necessary to fuck off and apply to more graduate schools. You see, he decided that it would more positively affect his future to try to better himself through further education instead of just sitting on his rapidly expanding ass and chugging Steel Reserve by the case. Overachiever.

In any case, we decided that it would be inappropriate to let December pass without some sort of article to whet your surely crippling appetite for high-lowbrow humor. And dick jokes. Thus, we bring to you our last entry of 2010: our guide to helping you ring in the New Year effectively. Probably illegally as well. (You don’t preface with that, you asshole! – ed.)
First off, fireworks. Now you COULD let the city take care of such a dangerous task…

(You mean SHOULD. – ed.)

You COULD…but why let them have all the fun? Instead of just letting a bunch of fuddy-duddies with “rules” and “procedures” and “fire codes” handle the explosions, why not try strapping a few M-80s to a shitload of bottle rockets and letting fly? Even better, if you’re looking to save money, try making your OWN explosives. Gunpowder, latex ballons and a Bic lighter is a pretty simple, fun way to create.

(Do this if you want to blow off your left arm below the elbow. – ed.)

Next, the alcohol abuse. Well…if you read this site enough, you should know where we stand on overindulgence of the alcoholic kind. I mean, fuck, this article is being written with a glass of Serbian plum brandy and cream soda in front of us. Because any asshole can drink rum and Cokes until he’s pissing polar bears. It takes a special kind of drunk to drink shit brewed in Eastern Europe. Pretty sure this’ll make us feel all Chernobyl-y. But we digress. Spending the last moments of the current year sober is like what “BBW”s have in their pants: a giant fucking waste. There’s no better way to open 2011 than facedown in the gutter, Ed Hardy t-shirt spattered with the remains of Jager shots and mozzarella sticks. God bless America! Even better, when January 2nd rolls around, it’ll be the best day of the year for you! Everyone wins.

We’ve covered explosives. We’ve covered alcohol. Must be time for sex! Tradition dictates that you kiss someone at midnight. Could be your significant other. Could be a random drunken person that showed you her tits at the bar. Could even be a waitress walking by that you grabbed and played Greco-Roman tongue with. But that, dear readers, is for pussies and Miami Heat fans. Why not try welcoming the new year by being balls-deep in some French foreign exchange student that you conned like…three weeks ago by claiming that you’re the rightful heir to the Black and Decker fortune? Because fuck, someone has to be. Why not you? Besides, those French chicks are freaky. Did you know they invented oral sex? It’s true! Boardwalk Empire said so. Anyways, the point is that if you’re playing Kama Sutra Roulette in the backseat of your Camry, you win the New Year. Double points if you manage to sink the cue ball in the corner pocket…if you get our meaning.

(We got it. – ed.)

Anal sex.

(We GOT IT. – ed.)

Let’s see. Must be time to watch the ball drop. The traditional way to do so is to either go to Times Square, where you can get a blowjob for a pair of novelty “2011” oversized glasses and a shot of Montezuma or watch it fall on TV, where you are forced every so often to watch Dick Clark who sounds less like the friendly, authoritative TV friend that he was in the past and more like an auctioneer with his throat stuffed full of cotton. It’s kind of sad. So I guess your choices in watching the ball drop are either sexual assault or depression. Yay New Year’s!

How about noisemakers? Everyone loves those. Whether it’s banging pots and pans and blowing screeching horns, pulling out airhorns and holding down the button to the point that your ears will permanently ring, or just those yankable things that have little toys inside, everyone has fun making as much noise as they can in order to piss the living fuck out of their elderly neighbors who just want a decent night’s sleep without those gottdamn hooligans creating a ruckus. GET A JOB! If you really want to make an impact this New Year’s, why not try pulling out an automatic rifle and firing into the sky until it goes click? Either you’ll get the most attention of the fresh year right away, if you live in a nice area, or if you live in the ghetto, you’ll help babies sleep longer! You’re being a humanitarian. Give yourself a pat on the back, you crazy armed sumbitch.

Singing Auld Lang Syne. Let’s be real here. Nobody knows the words to this fucking song. Maybe – MAYBE – Scotsmen but they’re already drunk and you can’t fucking understand them when they’re sober, much less a fifth of whiskey already down their drinkhole. The best you can do as a slovenly, drunken American is to slur the words with the right celebratory spirit and hope that maybe people will believe that you’re pulling an Inna Gadda Da Vida instead of being so shit-twisted that your tongue feels like one of those foam #1 fingers little kids and retards wear at football games.

Finally, we have resolutions. Pretty sure this is some sneaky Catholic way of getting everyone to try to experience guilt in the next year by having them prop up phony but well-meaning resolutions to improve themselves. Let’s be clear. NOBODY. FOLLOWS. THEM. You want to lose ten pounds by April? Wait till McDonald’s comes out with the Shamrock Shake. Your ass will actually swell to the point that Kim Kardashian would be jealous except for the fact that YOUR ass isn’t like a magnet for the penis of every straight dude that comes into a five-hundred yard proximity. Now we’re horny. Damn it. Might be time to end this.

(You THINK? – ed.)

Not if it can be helped. Happy New Year everyone! May your puke be smooth and non-acidic and may your dick be wet with female juices. Deuces!