If your teeth look like meth nubs because you almost ground them down to the gums and all the skin on your knuckles is gone from punching concrete walls, then you probably spent around 8 minutes of your day listening to this verbal game of Say Uncle between a dude trying to cancel his account and a Comcast service rep who was not going to let go. Anybody who has ever canceled or downgraded service with Time Warner or Comcast listened to this and thought to themselves, “Eh, been there and that’s why I’ve got a Klonopin addiction now.” But this customer service rep goes all the way hard and as he’s trying to hold onto that customer with the tips of his nails, I pictured his supervisor standing over him while holding a gun to a puppy’s face and giving him a look that says, “If you let that customer cancel, the puppy gets it.” I pictured the supervisor’s supervisor doing the same thing and so on and so on. Basically, a lot of puppies lives were in danger during this call.
On Sunday, writer Veronica Belmont tweeted a link to an 8-minute-long clip of her husband Ryan Block wrestling with a Comcast customer service rep while trying to cancel their service. Ryan wrote on SoundCloud that at first, his wife was talking to the customer retention rep, but after 10 minutes of going absolutely nowhere, she handed the phone over to him and he started recording the conversation. Before Ryan took the phone, he greased up his face with Crisco, put on all of his rings and told Veronica to hold his purse, because he knew it was going to be a fight to the death. Ryan kept repeating that he’d like to cancel, but the rep wasn’t going to let his ass break up with Comcast and after a while, I was expecting the rep to go full Alex Forrest in Fatal Attraction by screaming, “I won’t allow you treat me like some slut you can just bang a couple of times and throw in the garbage!!!” Ryan writes:
So! Last week my wife called to disconnect our service with Comcast after we switched to another provider (Astound). We were transferred to cancellations (aka “customer retention”).
The representative (name redacted) continued aggressively repeating his questions, despite the answers given, to the point where my wife became so visibly upset she handed me the phone. Overhearing the conversation, I knew this would not be very fun.
What I did not know is how oppressive this conversation would be. Within just a few minutes the representative had gotten so condescending and unhelpful I felt compelled to record the speakerphone conversation on my other phone.
This recording picks up roughly 10 minutes into the call, whereby she and I have already given a myriad of reasons and explanations as to why we are canceling (which is why I simply stopped answering the reps repeated question — it was clear the only sufficient answer was “Okay, please don’t disconnect our service after all.”).
Please forgive the echoing and ratcheting sound, I was screwing together some speaker wires in an empty living room!
The thing is, Ryan never asks to speak to someone else. I would’ve been screaming for a supervisor, a manager, the president of Comcast, Olivia Pope, Obama, etc… etc… And if that didn’t work, I’d pull out a serious weapon of mass destruction. I’d play the rep a Nickelback song. After two seconds into that song, he’d cancel my account and reimburse me for the entire year.
Here’s the full recording if you haven’t already slapped at your ears while listening to it:
Damn. It’s like trying to break up with Taylor Swift. “Just give me the damn break-up cancellation number, Taylor! Please!”
Comcast, of course, has already apologized:
“We are very embarrassed by the way our employee spoke with Mr. Block and are contacting him to personally apologize. The way in which our representative communicated with him is unacceptable and not consistent with how we train our customer service representatives.”
Comcast claims they’re investigating the call. Translation: They’re going to promote the rep to President of Customer Service.
Because Farrah Abraham is an entrepreneurial genius who knows that most people said to themselves, “Hmmm, I could really go for some creamy yogurt right now,” while watching her squirt in her porn, she’s opening up a frozen yogurt place in Austin, TX this October. Backdoor Farrah calls Froco Fresh Frozen a “brand new concept” and since she has dingles for brains, a “brand new concept” to her is a place that sells frozen yogurt and other frozen foods. Froco’s mascot is a terrifying “popping boba” named Coba and Backdoor Farrah probably got the idea for it while watching a string of anal beads go in and out of her b-hole. That’s how Coba the Anal Bead was born!
Backdoor Farrah tells Starcasm that she came up with the concept of Froco (she should’ve called it “Stinkberry“) all by herself. Froco will sell fresh and frozen cuisines in a family atmosphere. Farrah really is a culinary mastermind, because I’ve never heard of a place that sells both fresh AND frozen foods. I’ve never heard of something called a fucking grocery store. The about section of Froco’s website (which I’ll get into in a second) obviously came from the shit-filled mind of Farrah, because it is equal parts frozen delusion and nonsense, and it reads like it was written by a dried ball of poop cum:
The founder of Froco, was set to open a restaurant concept when the now first location and property of Froco was available. Instead of going with the first planned restaurant concept the founder had a better feeling about Froco. There was a lot to be completed with an unplanned great concept, so the founder of Froco thought about the possibilities to buy into another franchise of the similar sort but then realizing after being excepted to the other growing franchises of the similar sort that their values, their brands weren’t as great as what the founder could live up too. So with passion and positivity the founder wanted feedback on her Froco idea. After asking others in salons, playgrounds, stores, and just everywhere the founder was set on Froco and the mascot being Coba the popping boba! …
The founder felt strongly compelled to include Greek yogurt in to as many of the food products at Froco as possible which are found in certain flavors of frozen yogurt and all the freshly made to go food items. The founder after moving to Texas at the age of 22 right before the creation of Froco was told by her doctor to better her health with plain Greek yogurt. Being the foodie that the founder is, the founder put Greek yogurt in everything – sandwiches, pastas, salads, wraps, sushi, desserts and the founder was happy to taste better enhancement of flavors with the Greek yogurt in all the food options. The founder found the balance of taste, health, and quality and wanted to bring this to everyone’s lifestyle all year round. …
The founder Farrah Abraham is recognized nationally for her success in entertainment as well being a wonderful mother to her daughter Sophia who at age 5 has helped every step of the way in creating a lovable, positive, passionate and educational mascot for Froco, “Coba” The popping boba, who you may put on your frozen yogurt and feel a pop of passion and positivity every time you visit Froco.
You know, Backdoor Farrah opening up a gourmet emporium that sells yogurt and bubble tea makes sense. I mean, Greek yogurt is a yeast infection remedy (you know that’s why her doctor told her about it) and boba pearls can be used as disintegrating anal beads.
And as for the website (via Uproxx), this morning, a hacker doing God’s work hacked it and on the front page they put a GIF of James Deen backdooring Farrah. Here’s the censored version co-starring Coba the Anal Bead:
Maybe the site wasn’t hacked. Maybe Farrah’s just showing us how the fresh Greek yogurt is made. Whatever you do, DO NOT order the “one cup” special at Froco.
Oh, the 1960s were a simpler time when NASA used LSD to get dolphins to speak English and researchers regularly jerked dolphin leche out of dolphins. Dolphins getting hand jobs and free LSD? What Charlie Sheen wouldn’t give to be a dolphin in the 60s.
In the BBC documentary “The Girl Who Talked To Dolphins” (more like “The Girl Who Jacked Off Flipper’s Relatives“), former NASA researcher Margaret Howe Lovatt talks about how in the 1960s she was a part of some experiment where dolphins were sometimes shot up with LSD to learn how to speak to humans. Margaret got close to a dolphin named Peter and she got real close to Peter’s peter. Peter was a horny teenage trick and would always rub himself on Margaret’s body. After a while, Margaret just went with it and helped that horny dolphin get off and that may or may not have involved dirty dolphin talk (example: “eeeee eeeee ee eee eee ee eeee”). via the NYDN (via Gawker)
“Peter liked to be … with me. He would rub himself on my knee, my foot or my hand and I allowed that. I wasn’t uncomfortable — as long as it wasn’t too rough. It was just easier to incorporate that and let it happen, it was very precious and very gentle, Peter was right there, he knew that I was right there. It would just become part of what was going on, like an itch, just get rid of that scratch and we would be done and move on.”
She’s not right for comparing it to an itch, because when I get an itch and scratch it, I don’t end up with a handful of dolphin jizz. But thank you, BBC, for letting me know that dolphins are getting more action than me.
I wonder if at any point Margaret looked at Horny Peter’s open-mouthed, excited dolphin face as he humped her thigh the same way Justin Bieber humps the thigh of a trick when he can’t find her coochie and thought to herself, “I work for NASA and I am a humanized dolphin hump toy. I am living the dream.” And somewhere Pimp Mama Kris is thinking to herself, “Pfft! Big deal! My girls once sucked off all the Dolphins and you don’t see them starring in a BBC documentary about it. Hmmm, that gives me an idea.”
Here’s the clip of Margaret remembering the time a dolphin humped her.
Since we’re on the subject of serious science stuff, does anyone know where I can go to remove the part of my brain that thought it was a good idea to Google “dolphin porn” for this highly important story?
One of the big reasons why everybody with a sense of sight thinks Ronan Farrow was made with Frank Sinatra’s jizz is because, just like his daddy, he’s got eyes that make you want to miniaturize yourself, grab a miniature floatie lounger and float on his grey blue iris. But Page Six, the destroyer of illusions, has gone and ripped the contacts right out of Ronan’s eyes and EXPOSED him! A source tells Page Six that Ronan wears special contacts, unlike the not-to-special ones you and I wear, and they turn his boring, old regular blue eyes into Frank Sinatra blue eyes. Ronan is basically like my cousin who buys her “Elizabeth Taylor violet eyes” at a beauty supply store next to a Blimpie’s in a strip mall. The source put it like this:
“He’s blind as a bat, they are prescription contacts. They are tinted white, but they do make his eyes brighter blue.”
What next? Page Six is going to tell us that Prince Hot Ginge dyes his hair with red henna? Or that Phoebe Price doesn’t have shellacked chicken cutlets stuck in her cheeks? Her cheeks are just naturally like that. Or that Jon Hamm’s really got a skinny shrimp dick and he puts a knee sock stuffed with ground chuck in his pants? I can’t take anymore. Oh, Page Six, quit making my brown eyes the color of Ronan Farrow’s eyes when he puts on his special contacts.
Here’s Ronan working that pucker at the Time 100 Gala in NYC on Tuesday night. I also threw in pictures of Martha Stewart in her favorite sequined capris, because I know you want to spend a piece of your Thursday squinting at her crotch to see if you see toe.
If 2004 Gwen Stefani swallowed a neon green bucket full of Ke$hit’s juicy queefs and swallowed it down with Skrillex’s wet burps and a candy necklace that Keroppi used as anal beads, she’d get the serious heaves and then barf out this video for Avril Lavigne’s ear-killing song “Hello Kitty.”
I was going to say that Avril is pretty much 30 going on 13, but two of my cousins are 13 and they’d rather be seen at the movies with their parents on a Saturday night than be seen in a goddamn pink ruffled skirt with cupcakes on it. This Hello Kitty butt dingle of a video is such a horrific abomination that Canada needs to immediately issue an apology to Japan.
The song is the perfect thing to listen to when you want the answer to the question, “Can ears actually bleed blood?”, (SPOILER ALERT: Listening to this wreck will prove that the answer is YES) and of course Chad Kroeger is a co-writer on it. Only the 12-year-old mind of Avril Lavigne and the Monster Energy Drink-infused brain of Chad Kroeger could come up with these poignant lyrics:
Mom’s not home tonight
So we can roll around, have a pillow fight
Like a major rager OMFG
Let’s all slumber party
Like a fat kid on a pack of Smarties
Someone chuck a cupcake at me
Avril Lavigne is practically 30 and she’s spitting out lyrics that a 12-year-old one consider too immature. Chad Kroeger is married to her. Chris Hansen needs to ask both of them to have a seat.
And here’s 2 things I would rather do than listen to that song again:
1. Listen to a Nickelback song (it’s that serious).
2. Shove a lighter wand in my ear and pull the trigger.
Long before The Hammaconda was making v-holes and b-holes howl during pap walks, it accompanied its owner Jon Hamm on a 90s dating show The Big Date which was hosted by Mark “Not The Funky Bunch One” Walberg who now hosts Antiques Roadshow. This clip made me cry out tears of liquefied mood lipstick, because it is so damn 90s. As soon as I hit play, I looked down and I was wearing overalls, a long-sleeved BOSS t-shirt and Docs.
While giving you the 90s part and bangs that look like puppy ears, Jon Hamm tells the lip liner beauty he’s trying to woo that if they went out on a date together, they’d start off with some fabulous food, a little fabulous conversation and they’d end it with a fabulous foot massage for an evening of total fabulosity. 90s Jon Hamm is testing you! He’s testing you. I feel like I need to get a hypnotist to get into my brain and erase the memory of a dorky Jon Hamm casually saying Kimora Lee Simmons’ catch phrase as though it’s a part of his every day vocabulary. I bet he screams “fabulosity” when he cums. I don’t want to know that. But you know, I still would.
At the 3:16 mark is Jon Hamm looking like an assistant manager at Oak Tree while telling Mary what a fabulous night of fabulosity they would have if she picked him. Fabulous!
Mary obviously didn’t want to fill herself up with all the fabulosity that Jon Hamm has to offer, because she turned his ass down. Yes, Mary may have exquisite taste in lip liner colors, but her choice in hot pieces sucks. As Vivian Ward would say:
And yes, Vivian Ward is showing Mary just how big The Hammaconda is….while flaccid….and after an ice bath.
The good news is this rumor is coming from the UK tabloid Heat (via the Mirror) which means it’s most likely as fake and fraudulent as everything the Kardashians do and it was also probably leaked (sorry for that word mixed with that picture) by Pimp Mama Kris herself to build up her ~kool mom~ kred. The bad news is that the life-killing image of Pimp Mama Kris’ naked and Photoshopped body sprawled onto the pages of Playboy has already been burned into the deepest part of your brain and side effects of that include stopping fuck times with your piece halfway through to go into the shower and cry while rubbing Irish Spring onto your eyeballs.
Some source (read: either PMK herself or the makers of Dramamine who want to boost sales by giving the public non-stop nausea) said that PMK feels like her body is Playboy-ready and now is the time to spread her KKK maker in Playboy. The source farted this nugget out:
“Kris has been talking about posing for Playboy magazine for a while now. She’s in the best shape of her life and is keen to show it off. The bikini shot she posted on Instagram recently was well received that she’s said, ‘Why not?’”
PMK led Kim Kartrashian down the fame whore path to becoming the fame whore of all fame whores and now she’s following in her prized ho’s fame whore steps. First comes the sex tape, second comes the Playboy spread. Actually, first comes the sex tape, second comes the death of civilization, because I don’t think humanity can survive after a PMK sex tape. But I refuse to believe that Hugh Hefner would let this happen. ANYBODY but PMK on the cover of Playboy! If it happened, Hugh Heffa needs to officially retire from making decisions beyond choosing between tapioca or vanilla and choosing between the bleached blonde with the DDDs or the bleached blonde with the EEEs to screw.
Here’s the Kartrashians at LAX last night before getting on a flight to Korea, and sadly I don’t mean North Korea.
Yes, actual visual confirmation that Justin Bieber is able to go potty all by himself. You did it, Justin! You made a pee-pee on your own and for that, you get to choose if you’d rather have chicken nuggies or hot dogtopuses for dinner.
But back to the video. I thought I’d finally have reason to bust out the Guthy-Renker Portable Eye Gouger I got in my stocking at Christmas when it was announced a potty training video of Tantrum Toddler would be released. Sadly, the unopened Eye Gouger is still in my closet next to 200 boxes of Proactive, because the video was not bad enough to make my eyes scream in horror.
If I wasn’t told me this was a video of TT giving a urine sample in jail, I might have thought it was leaked security camera footage from the washroom at a Yo Gabba Gabba concert. It could also be a live stream from the wash station at an illegal dog groomers located in some shady fucker’s basement. Basically, what I’m trying to say is it’s nothing to get your diaper in a twist over.
And slow claps to the master-level trolling by the guy who’s job it was to censor Bieber’s junk. That giant black box is the dick-hiding version of a comically-oversized foam finger. There’s no way his dick is any larger than one of his Fisher-Price Little People, so choosing a black rectangle that big made me choke on my Baileys.
Proceed with caution, because getting the tip from Jim Bob Duggar usually leaves a ho with a pile of slobbering chirrun and a pussy that could host the next Chicago Auto Show.
In honor of the day when your piece gives you a heart teddy bear from CVS before you get in a quick fuck on the couch so you can watch House of Cards season 2, the Duggars have birthed out 7 barf-inducing tips on how to keep your marriage sexy. The only tips I want from Michelle Duggar are beauty tips on how to get your hair to look like it time traveled here from 1984, but these Christian bareback sluts are experts in fucking, so I guess they know what they’re talking about (no, they don’t). If you really want your genitals to dry up like a pile of turkey jerky as your eyeballs melt and dribble out of their sockets, then read just a few of their tips (the rest are here):
1. Always keep your coochie available to your husband. Who cares if every time he sticks it in, a baby grabs onto the tip and when he pulls out you’ve got another mouth to feed. Who cares if you don’t want to bone him, because you’ve got the tireds and every time he takes his raw peen out your uterus starts screaming for mercy. Be his on-call 24-hour baby-making fuck machine.
Michelle says a friend gave her advice to live by before she and Jim Bob married in 1984: “She said, ‘In your marriage there will be times you’re going to be very exhausted. Your hubby comes home after a hard day’s work, you get the baby to bed, and he is going to be looking forward to that time with you.’” — she’s talking about sex, just so everyone’s clear — “‘Be available. Anyone can fix him lunch, but only one person can meet that physical need of love that he has, and you always need to be available when he calls.’”
At the time, as a young bride-to-be, Michelle says, she couldn’t imagine ever not wanting to “be available” for some quality married nookie. But with kids, she soon realized, exhaustion can easily extinguish romance. So she’s made an effort to follow her friend’s advice — and with no birth control and 19 kids, it would seem she’s succeeded. “That has been such a lifesaver for our marriage,” she tells TODAY Moms.
Seems to be working for Jim Bob, too: “We’re like a newlywed couple every day!” he enthuses.
2. But it’s okay to put a Be Back Soon sign over your twat after you’ve just had a baby (THE BIBLE SAYS) and when your period comes. Please, I bet Aunt Flow hasn’t brought her homemade berry crumble to Michelle in a loooong time since she’s always knocked up.
It’s not all sexytime at the Duggars. They abstain when Michelle has her period, and also after childbirth: 80 days before sex if it’s a girl, 40 days after a boy. (The timeline for abstinence after childbirth is loosely based on Old Testament traditions, but is more about what works for their marriage than about observing religious law, the Duggars say.) A bit of abstinence, they’ve found, does make the heart grow fonder.
“When you’ve missed it for seven days, you look forward to it even more,” Michelle says.
3. Treat your wife like a queen and that means sex her until she gives birth to a dozen handmaiden daughters who will wait on her hand and foot and raise all her ten million kids.
Lest you think Duggar romance is all about the baby-making, they note that emotional intimacy is important, too. Even in the whirlwind of raising 19 kids, they do little things like sending each other “I love you” texts, calling each other “Sweetie,” and kissing in the kitchen. Jim Bob seems to put Michelle on a pedestal; and to be fair, she does the same to him.
“That’s key in a relationship, the husband needs to cherish his wife and always treat his wife like a queen,” Jim Bob says.
Again, you can read the rest here, but I don’t know if I would go there if I were you. I read the entire thing and I think I’m permanently sterilized. Shit, that’s probably all part of Jim Bob and Michelle’s evil master plan. They know that images of them getting it in raw will make all of our baby-making parts shrivel up and shut down. That way we will all stop procreating while the Duggars keep going at it and finally take over the world and make all of us their soap-making slaves.
(Pic via TLC) (Thanks Melissa!)