The Kjaorn Supremacy

Fighting back...

And my response:

Dear Mary,

I'm responding to an email I received from your husband about your apartment for rent. He said you would be able to attend to me better. I would love to see some pictures of the place if at all possible. I'd also like to see a picture or two of you if at all possible, Mary (So I know who I'm dealing with, of course. I won't pleasure myself to it. You see, I'm a kind and honest man and wouldn't even think of such things)?

The other thing I was curious about was the price. You see, $500 seems a little steep. Is there any way we can work something else out. I consider myself a master in the art of sensual message, and none of that crap you find on craigslist. Those people are fucking amateurs compared to me. This is something I take very seriously, and if you do not achieve "release" I am not satisfied. As a matter of fact, I even have this saying, a credo if you will: If you don't cum, you can kick me in the bum. Get it? Get it? That's a god damned guarantee! Admittedly it could use a little work, but I'm no wordsmith. My rates are $200/session, and with 1 session per week you would owe me a modest $300/month.

I was also curious if you would mind me conducting my business from the residence? I am extremely discreet and would only ask that I could hang my 60" x 60" neon "Pleasure Paradise" business sign from the front of the house. I can assure that it is extremely classy and would not be a distraction to the neighbors.

You got something I want, and I got something you want. Let's talk shop. Can't wait to hear from you.

Thanks bunches,

Jake

Dear People of Park City...

This is what a crosswalk looks like:

I'm not sure where this one is, or who those long-hairs are, but you get the idea. Notice how nobody is trying to run them over?

Let me drop a little crosswalk knowledge on ya. They're there to allow pedestrians safe passage across the road. When you see a pedestrian in the crosswalk you are supposed to stop and let them cross. That's it. It's super easy, and I think even you fucktards can handle it.

Get it together because if you end up running me over on my way to grab a coffee I'm going to pull you out of your car and choke the shit out of you, and I'll probably get my boy Ringo to help me. As you can see from his swagger - he fucking loves crosswalks too.

Thanks for reading.

Love always,

Jake

Applebottom Jeans, Boots with the Fur...

If you're a MAN and you're rockin' pockets that look anything like these - immediately pull a man card out of one of those fruity ass fuckin' pockets and burn that shit because you aren't gettin' it back. Not fucking EVER. NEVER. There is no redemption. None. Period.

And next time you go to cop some hot new denim ask yourself this, could I see Clint Eastwood rocking these shits? If the answer is no, keep movin'.

If you're a lady it's a different story. Feel free to rock 'em, although, personally, I'd rather see that ass in some Seven Jeans, but that's just me.

I love you.

Calm down...

Twilight New Moon...

Rolled into Blockbuster the other night to pick up a copy of Hurt Locker, which was pretty damn good. Quick mission, as I was feeling it after an epic day on the hill. Grab a movie, a bag of Reece's and roll outta there like I stole somethin', or so I had hoped. 

Didn't quite work out that way. The Blockbuster in my hood has the worst God damned customer service in the world. Yeah. You can be the only fuckin' dude in there and wait five minutes to get checked out. It's ridonkulous.

Threw the goods on the counter, and after several minutes of waiting, and about to collapse, the checker lady rolled up and said this: Oh! So I see you haven't pre-ordered your copy of New Moon yet!

Me: What? You talking to me? (Which of course she was. Nobody else was there. I then gave her a look like she had just said the dumbest shit ever. And it would be one thing if I had rolled in there looking like I had just plundered the racks at Hot Topic, but that's not how I roll.)

Lady: Yeah. I see that you haven't pre-ordered your copy of Twilight New Moon yet.

Me: Are you serious? I'm a grown ass man, lady.

Lady: Well, ya never know. Maybe you have a special lady in your life that would like a copy?

Me: Nope. No special lady in my life. . . and if I did have a special lady--I can assure you she wouldn't be into Twilight. Matter of fact, I would NEVER date someone that was into Twilight! Never.

Lady: (She then looked at me like I had just kicked her dog.) Oh. . . Well, have a good afternoon sir.

Me: You too.

I have a feeling this lady was super stoked on Twilight. I think I broke her heart, but come on lady--you're 50 years-old. If you're out there lady, I'm sorry for being a rude prick, but for real--don't come at me with that teeny bopper Twilight bullshit. It's insulting.

Unhappy Hipsters...

The things that once so defined him — shag carpeting, Room & Board sofas, monogamy — now suffocated him.

Check it out: HERE.