The Worthless Weekly

Waking up with George Bush in Your Bed

Sunday, May 11, 2008

I don’t like celebrity gossiping, but congrats to the son of the Virginia politician, whatever his name is, who married President George Bush’s daughter, Jenna.

Experts predict that Jenna will look exactly like her dad when she goes gray. They advise no haircut. (cache.boston.com)

I would guess that the fact that her bloodline is among the most powerful in America had something to do with his attraction for her and his decision to sign a contract of shared life with her. Now that is true love.

Is it the synicism in me that would suggest that it was either a career move, or simply for the sex with the infamously wild party gal? If I am correct with my assumptions, I would say that either way, it was a bad decision.

Apparently, he is cool with the fact that only about 10% of Americans think that the Bush’s do things the right way. Not to mention, she is a spitting image of her father, and I don’t know about you, but I would never want to go to bed with President Bush in my bed, no matter how drunk I was. Talk about an awkward morning wake-up!

So, son of Virginia politician, I hope your PR people are doing this up right and sending wedding photos of you two all over the world for the exposure. I am throwing you some free publicity myself.

Congrats on the big career move! Errr…marriage.

Filed in humor, marriage, George Bush, White House, comedy, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, President, Jenna Bush, Henry Hager, Virginia, politics, politician, elections | Comments (1)

I am a Man with a Nail Polish Fetish

Friday, May 9, 2008

I am a man. I also have a recently emerging fetish for nail polish. That makes me: a man with a nail polish fetish.

Considering nail polish has never been part of my stylistic arsenal, waking up a few minutes earlier to buff my fingernails before work is a huge change for me, something I am still adjusting to.

I look like the one on the left. (amazon.com)

Instead of borrowing a hockey stick or baseball glove from my roommate Matt, I have instead been relying on my roommate Mary for her nail clippers and nail file. In fact, the other night, we did our nails together while watching an episode of Trading Spaces!

How did I get into nail polish? Well, it’s been something I wanted to do for several years now, and it reached a tipping point where I just couldn’t wait any longer. I went on Ebay to save myself the embarrassment of perusing the female cosmetics section at CVS, and I went ahead and purchased a full bottle of polish.

Those of you that know me are surely confused right now, probably thinking that my style is way too conservative to make a smooth transition to the painted nail look. Well I have finally come to terms with the fact that I am a man with a nail polish fetish, and I felt it was time I break the news.

“Wow, you’re fingernails are buffed,” noticed a friend who was visiting the other day, managing to keep a non-chalant attitude about the whole situation, more out of confusion than out of acceptance.

“Yup, they are.” I said proudly. I then proceeded to give them another coat.

Now wait a second here…you don’t think I’m going goth or transvestite on you now, do you? No, no, no, you’ve got the wrong idea silly! This nail polish is strictly to get me to stop biting my nails. This clear (but glossy) non-toxic polish is called “Stop” and it has a similar effect on tastebuds as gasoline, making it really uncomfortable to put your fingers anywhere near your mouth. You don’t realize how often that is until you try this product.

I stopped. (amazon.com)

I couldn’t kick the habit cold turkey, but I’ve been nail-bite free since I started treatment two weeks ago. I feel good about my recovery - I can effectively scratch my back again and I can even make tapping noises on my desk when I listen to music now…say bye bye to soft “thud” sounds!

But it’s not all roses either. I have noticed an increase in funny looks from people that spot me at the gym when they get a close-up view of my buffed nails, but other than that I have done well to hide them.

Another bittersweet (literally) part about the product is its overwheming power. It’s so strong that you can taste it even before your hand makes actual contact with your mouth, leaving a bitter and foul taste lingering for an extended period of time. As a result, it makes flossing more dreadful than it already is. Let’s just say this stuff is so potent, that it overpowered my tuna fish sandwich at lunch today.

Enough of this gossip, I’ve got to go do my hair. Dinner date with the ladies tonight!

Filed in humor, sex, Mike Raciti, comedy, Michael, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, funny, Stop!, Mavala, nail polish, tuna fish, fetish, gothic, nail biting, treatment, Trading spaces, girly, masculine, feminine, CVS, painted, medical | Comments (2)

The Crappiest Campaign I’ve Ever Smelled

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

The time to elect a class president had rolled around and the two candidates were announced. Of course, no one really knew either, and very few planned to actually take the time to vote for the person that would fight for their right to get class time slashed and free pizza after every test.

But one of the candidates was sitting on The John when he came up with a marketing strategy that would get, at the very least, one persons attention, that person of course, being me. He decided to hang his photo on the door of the gym bathroom stall with a list of the things he would do to make his school a better place.

Should John publicize at The John? (adverblog.com)

I started to smell a stink and it wasn’t coming from me. It was the smell of this kids campaign. Is forcing every shit-taker in the school to look at your photo and read about you while they’re dropping a duece a good plan? C’mon man, I don’t want to be reading about how you plan on improving food options on campus with the waft of bathroom in the air.

Not to mention, you’re bribery was thin. Fight to improve the gym facilities? What was your thought process here? Were you trying to bribe the 12 meatheads on campus to drop their dumbells and go vote for some stranger they saw on a door by the flusher?

Extend library hours? Let me tell you something, people that use the library so much that they need it to be open more are not the same kids who will vote on someone they saw on a flyer next to bullets about how he will make the gym bigger.

Improve campus security? Well, maybe that one’s legit considering you should’ve been arrested for a crime like this. You would make “a great president”? That’s false advertising my friend!

But in the end, this kid proved me wrong because to my surprise, this young gentleman was elected. I would imagine he dominated the voting booths by a final tally of something like 2-1, assuming he convinced his roomate to come out and vote in exchange for right of passage to his mac n’ cheese. The only reason I know he won the vote is because I saw he was quoted as the “SGA President” in the campus newspaper on a very serious matter than had occurred at the school. It was difficult to read his words without picturing them coming from the mouth of the person with the shit-smelling grin that was plastered in front of the toilet I was sitting on just two weeks prior.

Well, as results would prove, your campaign was effective, thus making my criticisms, just plain bad. In fact, the idea was so good that I stole your same shitty tactics to try and get people to read my stupid blog, and it worked because you’re reading it right now!

By the way, think we can get a Gatorade jug in the gym? Now that would be the shit!

Filed in humor, Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, John McCain, comedy, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, funny, President, Presidential Elections, Primary, College newspaper, publications, nominated, Vice President | Comments (0)

Yeah, I’m a Pulp Guy

Sunday, May 4, 2008

There are two types of people in this world: one’s that like pulp in their orange juice, and ones that don’t.

Following the great tradition of my father’s father’s father, I enjoy pulp in my orange juice.

This would not look nearly as delicious with no pulp.
(roadfood.com)

For those of you that like pulp in your orange juice, you know what it means to be a pulp guy or gal. It means that you are more daring, more adventurous, and more bold. If you don’t like pulp, you are a softy, boring, weakboned Jimmy.

“I hate going over to the Raciti’s house,” said one close friend. “They only have orange juice with pulp in their fridge.”

Translation: this friend is a softy weakboned Jimmy (my apologies to him, a reader of this blog).

“I prefer not to have to chew when I drink,” he continued.

I’m sorry but if you have to chew pulp, you must eat soup with a fork and use a steak knife for your yogurt.

“Pulp people” are known to go crunchy peanut butter over smooth, linguine over angel hair, and real butter over “I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter” (Sorry roomates, who also check up on this blog to make sure I don’t do an entry on them…p.s. entry on them coming soon, stay tuned!).

This doesn’t mean that people who enjoy pulp in their orange juice don’t drink orange juice with no pulp, eat peanut butter with no cruch, cook angel hair over linguine or use fake butter over real, but rarely is it the other way around.

Non-pulp people, open your minds to this way of life, and open your hearts to our kind of people. Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re softies.

Filed in Uncategorized, humor, Mike Raciti, Michael Raciti, comedy, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, blogs, orange juice, funny, Florida, best, Simply Orange, Dole, oranges, pulp, calcium | Comments (4)

Why Women’s Sports Are Boring

Thursday, May 1, 2008

A female coach at [unnamed college], which is my place of tenure, asked me to write about my thoughts on female sports. This is a lose-lose here. If I say I like men’s sports more I get blacklisted by all the women here, and if I say I like women’s sports more, I am lying.

The 2008 UConn Women’s hoops team. I think. (photo: sdrc.lib.uiowa.ed)

Before you get mad about that last part, please realize that this is a blog where jokes are made, even if sometimes they are bad jokes. Okay, so that was a bad joke (for my women readers…probably pretty decent to my male readers).

Let’s break things down here using Boston sports as an example while trying to look at this issue from both a male set of eyes and a female perspective.

In the eyes of men, the Boston Celtics are a lot more exciting to watch than the Connecticut Sun, the Boston Red Sox are a lot more exciting to watch than the New England Riptide (who? Exactly.), and the New England Patriots are about equally as exciting to watch as the New England Patriots cheerleaders. Because men would prefer to watch the man version of two out of three of these sports, I am forced to come up with a reason for it.

Personally, I think the fact that men prefer watching other men play sports is unrelated to the sex of the athletes. For most men, it has nothing to do with a superiority complex. I don’t think that men dislike women’s sports. Look at beach volleyball and softball games that Jennie Finch is on the mound for example. No but seriously, I do think that men are more inclined to watch the more extreme of the two sexes. It is a fact that men can jump higher, throw harder, and hit farther than women.

Whoa, hold your horses ladies. Before you get all tizzied up, bear with me here.

There is a reason why women aren’t in the NBA, MLB, or NFL. They are not as strong, and therefore their athletic talents just have to be compared on a whole other scale. Am I saying that women are not as athletic? No, I think women are equally athletic, but it’s a matter of fact that the majority of men are physically stronger. If a female could play a sport on a similar physical level as a man, there is no reason why she shouldn’t be able to. Take Manon Rheaume, the former goalkeeper for the Tampa Bay Lightning, for example. The guys didn’t just let her play with them because her nickname was “Man.” They let her play because she was good enough, and strong enough. I think men enjoy watching a female thrive when playing with other men (except in golf, but I don’t consider anything a real sport that doesn’t involve some sort of extraneous movement).

Now let’s take a look at what women prefer. Women might go to a UConn women’s basketball match over a Celtics game, but will usually prefer to watch Sox over Riptide and New England Patriots over their cheerleaders. Again, we’ve got a 2/3 here in favor of men’s sports. I think the fact that the salaries of male athletes are so much higher than women’s proves that the market for men’s sports is strongly supported by both sexes.

Would you think I was a moron to say that the main reason men can sometimes withstand a women’s sporting event is for their sexual implications, while women like watching men’s sports for the same reason? Do the majority of female Patriots fans dream about another title before dreaming about a night with Tom Brady? I’m not sure about that. Does a man enjoy watching Maria Sharapova for her dynamo serve or her dynamo curves? This one I am sure about - it’s definetely the curves.

There is the gay factor, which one would argue does not apply to that theory, and in fact, would argue against it. I don’t think that factor would make any impact on those stats at this point in time. I would estimate that because of the social implications of being gay in sports, the overall sports culture tends to lean toward heterosexuality for better or for worse.

I’m not sure if women’s sports will ever be more watched than men, or if women will one day become the epicenter of the sports world, but I know that women’s sports have come a long way, and that if either were to happen, there is a great deal of work to be done. I’ve always believed that if an individual or a group or individuals really want something bad enough, they will do whatever it takes to get it, otherwise, they don’t really want it enough.

If women decide that they should dominate sports, they will find a way to do it over time. At that point, men will stop considering women’s sports boring, not because of the sexual implications, but because of the amazing physical capabilities of the female.

Filed in Uncategorized, humor, Mike Raciti, gay, heterosexual, basketball, comedy, Boston Red Sox, Michael, NBA, female, men, gender, blog, website, MLB, NFL, man, woman, best, women's sports, Title 9, Title XV, UConn, Boston Celtics, New England Patriots, cheerleaders, Maria Sharapova, Riptide, Connecticut Sun | Comments (0)

Reprecussions of the World’s Largest Burger

Monday, April 28, 2008

I’ve never met a burger that I couldn’t completely devour in one sitting until yesterday.

It was Hamden, Connecticut. There was nothing unusual about the day other than it was spring weekend at nearby Quinnipiac University. Being as regular the day, it seemed like an ideal time to order cheeseburgers, so we did.

We pulled up to the restaurant that we ordered from and walked inside to the take-out counter. On the counter sat several large paper bags that would put a Chinese restaurant to shame. It took about 25 employees to help us carry an order of four burgers out to the car. I was baffled at first as to what was going on, but then we opened up the bags, and I got my first glimpse at the world’s largest burger.

This is more or less what I looked like yesterday. (appliedliberally.com)

I’ve never been so intimidated by something with lettuce on it. This burger was so large that I was seriously left wondering how many cows it took to process the chunk of meat. It was a 95% lean flying saucer.

I’m a guy that can eat a pound of pasta in one sitting, but for some reason I couldn’t even get half this burger down. You might be thinking that I’m a softy for not being able to finish a cheeseburger, but in my defense, it was especially difficult considering the fact that it weighed more than me – the thing was easily pushing a buck fifty.

Are you starting to understand how big this burger was? If I had let it harden, I could’ve replaced a tire on my car with it! To give you a better visual of its enormity, each burger was literally packaged in one of those aluminum trays that you would find at a buffet.

Anytime you are about to consume a burger the size of a lasagna, you’ve got to consider the possible repercussions that may follow, including an extreme case of diarrhea, a mouth-circling grease ring the radius of Bin Laden’s beard, and of course, several excess pounds that will take a full year to shed. Unfortunately, these factors are never strong enough to sway your decision to not eat it, rather they are the things that you are reminded of about 20 minutes afterward. Needless to say, my burger hangover has me lagging 24 hours later.

Speaking of which, I’ve got to run to the bathroom, brb.

Okay, back.

While the recovery has been a struggle, I have to admit, that half burger was worth every bite. And while I’m cursing myself for eating it, I am really excited about the fact that I have the other half sitting in my fridge.

Filed in Uncategorized, humor, Mike Raciti, comedy, Miggy, Michael, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, McDonalds, Lil' Migs, Wendy's, World's lergest cheeseburger, hamburger, burger, Burger King, White Castle, Hamden, Connecticut, Quinnipiac University, eating, diet, weight loss, gain | Comments (2)

Wednesday is Work Meeting Day!!!

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Every Wednesday from 1 to about 3 p.m. I sit in the same chair in the same room circled around the same people with the same problems.

Everyone is overworked, underpaid, tired and waiting for the damn meeting to be over, but it goes on and on and on. It is an Alcholics Anonymous Meeting minus the booze and the great stories.

Meetings
Something tells me this firm is not an equal opportunity employer. They clearly discriminate against unenthusiastic employees.

We share what projects we’re working on, how we can improve upon our work, and how we can help eachother. Am I a bad man because I would much rather hear about how Bucky Thames, a 59-year old from Scottsdale, Arizona, guzzled a bottle of whiskey at his sons birthday party before beating he and his friends up for the candy they slammed out of the pinata?

I know alcoholism is not a good thing to poke fun at because it is a disease, so please realize that I am actually poking fun at work, which is not a disease.

And while work meetings have no relation to disease, they are a serious problem in the world today. They are mind numbing, time consuming, and the cost-benefit is equivalent to that of a $50 candy bar. Unless it’s got the Golden Ticket, Charlie ain’t goin to the Chocolate Factory, if you know what I’m sayin’.

Meetings should have been terminated once email and instant messages were invented. Actually, they could’ve done away with group gatherings once the telephone made it’s way into popular culture. Shit, the singing telegraph is more effective than a round table!

I understand that there is lots more brainstorming potential at a real live meeting. My only concern is that I won’t have any brain left by its end.

Filed in Uncategorized, humor, Michael Raciti, Mike, Charlie, The Worthless Weekly, blog, AA, Alcoholics Anonymous, work, day, meetings, meeting, drinking, unenthusiastic employees, enthusiasm, birthday party, pinata, Willy Wonka, golden Ticket, Chocolate Factory, brainstorming | Comments (0)

Clothes Minded: I Judge Dogs With Sweaters

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Is putting a sweater on a dog the lamest thing you’ve ever heard of? If you answered “yes” to that question, you’re probably wrong because there are so many lamer things, but I can see how you might have agreed for at least a second there.

Either way, it is definitely a strange thing to do. I’ll be honest, I judge dogs with sweaters. Maybe it’s unfair of me to do that, but I really hate them! They are such pricks!! I look at them as pampered little…. SONS OF BITCHES!!!. Man, that insult would’ve been so much more powerful if that wasn’t litterally what they are.

Rascal Profiling?: The cop said it had nothing to do with the sweater. (photo: k9magazine.com)

People, please don’t put sweaters on your dog anymore. I understand it’s cute and fun and all that, but let’s face it, once you start to dress your dog like it’s your child, things start to spin out of control. Before you know it, you will be discussing your relationship problems, your financial matters, and your grocery list with the thing. Heck, you’ll probably even ask your dog to start feeding the dog!

I can understand dog owners giving their canine orders, such as “No!” or “Fetch!” or “Sick ‘em!” or “Paw,” but when owners cross the line and have all-out conversations with their dogs, that is when I get suspicious as to whether that person is sane or not.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Example of owner crossing the line with dog:

Owner:Fufu, what did I tell you about excreting on the rug?

Fufu:(toungue out, heavy breathing…other than that, no response)

Owner:Fufu! FUFU!!! If you shit on the rug one more time, you are going into your box for a week straight without a pellet of Puppy Chow or a lick of water. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!?!

Fufu:(blank look on face, still panting, licks own coat of fur, lazily looks up at owner but still no response.)

One week later…

Lump on rug.

“Well that’s strange,” owner says to wife who is getting frustrated from having to clean it up herself all the time. ”I told him not to do that anymore.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I saw a guy walking his dogs around town the other day, discussing with them the importance of being nice to strangers.

“No, no, no, stop barking,” he told them as he yanked on his leash to pull them closer to me. ”We are nice to strangers, and they are nice to us. Go ahead, try it. Be nice.”

I was forced to play the awkward role of “stranger” in that situation, being that no other strangers were around, so of course I had to pretend like I liked his dogs and that they were real nice. Then, when I thought it wasn’t possible, things took a turn for the worse. I somehow got dragged into the conversation and had to start talking to them as well.

“Aren’t you two cute,” I stuttered as I reluctantly rubbed their shaggy little heads while trying to avoid their flailing tongues which were so desperate for attention. “See what happens when you are nice to strangers?”

Ronald McDonald’s painted-on grin would’ve looked more realistic than my forced smile were he standing next to me. I was obviously going through with this more for the owner than the dogs. Pretty sure their actions weren’t based on the fact that they could comprehend what either of us were saying.

What happened to the days when people understood that dog’s can’t understand? What happened to the days when a dog’s coat was considered its sweater? What happened to the days when a dog was allowed to be a dog?

They say a dog is a man’s best friend. I’m of the belief that a dog is better suited for the role of a man’s best dog.

Filed in humor, Mike Raciti, dogs, comedy, Michael, The Worthless Weekly, blog, Ronald McDonald, best, top, Puppy Chow, dog sweaters, dog lovers | Comments (2)

The Worst Part of Your Day

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

If the worst part of your day isn’t waking up, you’re lying.

There is no worse sound than an alarm clock, no worse feeling then exposing your eyeballs to light, and you will never have any less enthusiam for anything than when you finally get your ass out of bed.

“The Morning Eyes” has got to be the most hideous look ever.
(photo: thisnewcondo.blogspot.com)

Everything sucks in the morning. Your hair is messy, you need a shower, and you feel weak. Sometimes I am so physically uncapable of doing things that I can’t even zipper up my pants which makes me feel like a blob of nothing.

Waking up is like recovering from illness. You seek some kind of cure whether that be a coffee, an egg, or a toilet. Whatever medicine you choose in the morning helps you to recover, but never completely finishes the job. It always takes a few hours to finally recover.

I can’t think in the morning and I blame it all on the fact that I had to wake up. How can I make waking up more fun? I’ve tried everything. I’ve tried music. I’ve tried cookies. I’ve tried booze. NOTHING is good in the morning. Even morning wood hurts!

Waking up is so terrible that it is the only thing that can ruin a good dream. My wake-ups always interrupt right before I’m about to jump in a hot tub with beautiful girls. What about yours?

You would think that sleeping in would have a positive effect on how your days go, but that somehow makes things worse. Starting another sleep cycle without finishing it only causes headaches. Literally. Which means there really is never an ideal time to wake up, meaning that everyday for the rest of your life you have to suffer through this traumatic experience no matter what you do to prevent it.

On that note, I gotta go get some rest for the big wake up tommorrow morning. Should be a doozey.

Filed in Uncategorized, humor, Mike Raciti, comedy, Michael, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, eggs, orange juice, Tropicana, trauma, waking up, morning, bed head, alarm clock, morning wood, errections, traumatic experiences | Comments (0)

I Borrowed Pants from my 5′1″ Sister

Sunday, April 13, 2008

I went home this weekend and I only brought my dirty clothes figuring I could do a load of laundry and just use those once they were clean. Of course I was too lazy to run a load my first night back, so I had to borrow some comfortable sleeping pants from one of my siblings.

With three brothers - all taller than me - you would think I would be able to find a decent pair of sweatpants to get me through the night and that I wouldn’t have to rely on my 5′1″ sister, Christina. Well, after spending hours scouring the house for some comfortable pants, I resorted to asking my sister. I didn’t really expect her to have a pair that would be an acceptable size for me to throw on, but I gave it a shot anyway.

“Actually, I do have an extra pair for you!” she exclaimed as she buried through the mounds of clothes in her room. “Here they are!”

They looked something like this (cabelas.com)

The tiny pants she held up coupled with an awkwardly excited facial expression made her look like a mom at a baby shower. The pants were so small, I wasn’t sure if they were hers or if they belonged to the American Girl Doll she had about 15 years ago. So I figured, eh what the hell, it’s either that or I’m sleeping in jeans, and I slipped them on.

Maybe I should rephrase that because they didn’t exactly “slip” right on. It took a pretty serious effort to get my legs, as skinny as they are, through the minuscule leg holes. Once I finally got the pants on, I checked myself out in a mirror. At that point, the mirror literally looked like a Michael Jackson CD cover. It was bad.

I moonwalked out of the bathroom and back into Christina’s room. With a teased hair style and some lipstick, she would’ve mistaken me for a pop star straight from the 80’s. It was awkward, to say the least, trying to carry a serious conversation. How can you have a heart-to-heart with someone when they are spread out on your sheets wearing pants that a molester would sport at a playground?

When I got tired enough, I waddled up the stairs and tucked myself into bed. I swear, I did not have a teddy bear by my side. And I swear, I will never borrow pants from my sister again.

Filed in Uncategorized, Mike Raciti, Michael Raciti, humor writing, comedy, The Worthless Weekly, blog, website, Michael Jackson, tight pants, sleep, pajama pants, Christina Raciti, molester, American Girl doll | Comments (2)