Now, this has to be is certainly one of the top ten most ridiculous things I’ve ever read in my life; and I see a plenty o’ ridic shite on the reg. Hm, remember when people used to say that? “On the reg”, what ever happened to that one? Ah well, *moves on.

For the folks reading that are not familiar with the HOV lane, it’s a lane reserved for cars on busy highways carrying 2 or more persons. These vehicles are considered to be High Occupancy Vehicles (HOV). Thus, if you are the only one in your car, stay the eff out of that lane. Got it? Good. Now that you’ve digested that tidbit please see image below displaying the highest heights of fuckry:

dunce.

Your eyes are not playing tricks on you. That actually IS a mannequin sporting a blazer, scarf and sunglasses. Very storefront display-esque, too bad it was nowhere near a storefront but actually in some scallywag’s passenger seat! This immediately lends me the opportunity to inquire, “what part of the game is this?” Are you that stupid or were you just that late? Or, are you actually a high-level functioning retard? I bet you this was something she did on the reg (I believe people should still use this) too. Silly mofette.

[For those who aren't aware, a "mofette" is the female version of a mofo. Just wanted everyone to be on the same page.]

This whole scenario has opened my mind to a slew of even more ridiculous mannequin related faux-passenger scenarios:

1) Does “it” have a name?
2) Does she change the faux-passenger’s style to be in season? Meaning, does “it” wear t-shirts in the summer? Winter jackets when it snows? Hilare, hilare.
3) What does she do with it when she gets to her destination? Imagine this car with said mannequin arriving at work; does everyone just see it and keep it moving? Hell no!
4) What happens at stop lights? Oh, loss.
5) What would happen if she got pulled over by the police–oh shit! We have that answer! I’ll take “how to get a ridiculous ticket for $2000 Alex?” *buzzer sounds* “Daily Double!”

Just in case you think there was only one idiot foolish enough to attempt this, think again: Mega-Dunce. The best part about this article is the note reading, “As for his passenger, well, he’s not talking either.” Hilare.

P.s. Happy 70th Birthday, Chuck Norris!

Good day!
-A. Musin.

The way it works is like this, whoever is getting the gifts gets all their gifts at once. Example, if Its “my turn”, I get all my shit from everyone then and there. Less confusion and it gets it all out the way at once. No back and forth. So after my father got all his gifts, it was my brother’s turn. Sister got him a new camera, I got him a RL shirt, and then my mom decides to pop up with her slew of gifts…

Right off the bat she steals the effin’ show. (Note: my mother is WAY out of touch with pop culture.) She excitedly hands him a small well wrapped gift as her first of 4 items. With a huge smile my brother begins violently unwrapping this gift. So I’m like, what the fuck could that be?! I wish I had never asked!

Turns out it was a t-shirt, he opened it with the front facing him. So all I saw was a black t-shirt; until he turned it around. This was the time in which I realized my 29-year old brother had just received a Twilight t-shirt with Edward Cullen’s FACE on the front. It was OVER! My sister hit the floor, dying with laughter. I couldn’t contain my chuckles either, I was belting them out.

The best was my mom’s face when her children were rolling on the floor in laughter after opening her first gift. The funny thing is she was like, “well I thought he would love it, its all the rage these days.” Yeah mom, it might be–for sappy 14-year old teenage girls! Needless to say the latter 3 gifts made up for the first, but that shit was epic.

[Some of you may have heard this before, but this part I saved ONLY for the purpose of this post.]

After my brother got his gifts, my mother got hers and then it was my turn. Brother gave me a nice sweater, sister got me a nice pair of jeans, then it was time to open mom’s gift.

I’m (clearly) already leery about her Christmas contributions but what else can I do, NOT open my mother’s Christmas gifts? As I pick up this tightly wrapped gift I hear my mother chuckle to herself in the corner. At that point I knew it, I KNEW the loss that was coming to smite me. Ripped open the gift and just as I thought–another fucking Twilight shirt. Hello Fail whale! Same shit too! At that point I really had to give her a talking to. Lucky for her she got me some other boss gifts to make up for it.

Christmas was hilare, clearly.

Happy New Year!
-A. Musin

So while doing a small amount of early-marnin’ people watching, I spy with my four-eyes a very fidgety blond haired dame doing the MOST at this early hour. As in, her movements were so sharp and frantic that I thought she was, well…a hungry crackhead! A hungry crackhead not hungry for food, that is. A hungry crackhead, not hungry for food but instead for crack-cocaine. Get me? Good. This is when I tuned in to the show, “Subway Shower, F train edition.”

She hurriedly forced her coat off her person, then mounted her over sized handbag [overnight bag] on her lap and it was off to the races. She was rummaging through that shit like a bum does a dumpster. You might be wondering, “why would you call it a Train Bath Musin?” Well it’s simple what happened. Here is my take: this girl slept out at (probably) some male friend’s house and was late to get to class so she just got up and ran to the train. Take this as fact for the following reasons:

1) She pulled out her bottle of lady spray and went to work! She sprayed her soul with this misty musk; her soul!

2) She took out a beat up bottle of Poland Spring and took a swig–of water. She then swished the H20 around then swallowed. Poland Spring mouth wash, yup, she did that.

3) Smart girl she is. Right after the gargle and rinse of warm tap water she IMMEDIATELY flung a stick of Winterfresh in her mouth; brilliant! Minty fresh for the day, no? NO! Fail, you nasty mofette.

4) This is when I was sold. After she did everything else this girl dug her left arm to the depths of her bag, uncapped her deodorant, raised the arms and applied–ON THE TRAIN. Now, I’ve seen girls do their make up on the train and that’s alright (I guess), but you can’t tell me that the rubbing of one’s antiperspirant onto their person is OK.

She then went on to do her homework…hm, wonder what she did last night? Freak nasty had time to hit the sheets but not the shower eh? Anti-bueno!

*drops microphone. (yes, we do love to drop the microphone–I knew you were wondering.)

*picks up the microphone; drops it again.

*does the electric slide.

Musin, out!
Long Live AH.

*Errrrreeeeek!  *record comes to a SCREECHING halt.

Let me just bring you up to speed if you a) don’t have Twitter or b) were living under a rock.

Today the news stations were all flustered with a breaking story.  A six year old boy!  Runaway aircraft!  Wait, wait, runaway homemade aircraft that looks like a giant flying saucer! 10,000 feet above the ground!  He was losing control, cameras were following the little spaceship’s every move!  People were flipping the eff out on Twitter.  #Balloonboy became a trending topic on Twitter in like 32.4 seconds and everyone was like, “OMG!  #Balloonboy is not a laughing matter!  He could B dead!!!!”  And I sort of giggled because I was just like, “Musin… Clev… There’s a kid in a BALLOON that looks like a SPACESHIP.  Oh and it’s spiraling out of control over the Rockies.”  And then we all had a good laugh.

But then the unthinkable (and by unthinkable I mean how did we NOT see this coming???) happened and they got the balloon down and no six year old boy popped out.  None at all.  In fact, I was a little nervous when the people were hacking away at the spaceship and I was all THE BOY!  WHAT ABOUT THE BOY INSIDE?! Until I realized, oh hey, he’s not in there.  He’s probably fallen out… SADFACE.

I was really sad.  Mainly for the family because the death of a child, *shudder* is terrible but also because MAN, this story had so much potential for funny.  I laughed allt he way up until there was a lack of boy in the balloon.  In fact, I have several instances I’d like to point out.

1) Exactly what kind of family has a homemade, spare, functioning spaceship just lying around?  I mean, are they in the habit of creating such vehicles?  Is this a side hobby of the family?  Are they in the Real Live Spaceship business?  Spaceships ‘R Us: You dream it, we make it.  (No, you shut up.  If I had a spaceship making business that is totally what I would name it.)

2) How exactly did the conversation go when they realized the kid was missing?  “Oh hey, anyone seen Falco-OH MY GOSH.  He’s floating away in our homemade fully functioning astronaut farmer spacecraft!!  CALL THE GUARD!!!!”  That’s all there is to say about that.

3) The kid’s name is Falcon.  As in the bird.  That flies.  Is anyone else seeing the irony here?

4) Let’s just take a minute to grab some lines from news anchors reporting this debacle…  We all know Shep Smith has uttered my favorite line of all time.  (Wait… Did we not know this?  Short version: Guy runs up while Shep is reporting on Katrina, crazy, drunk guy running around without his shirt on, Shep says, “Sir! Sir!  What are you still doing here?!  Everyone is supposed to be out!”  Crazy, drunk guy screams something about partying with Katrina or something and Shep looks back at the camera, deadly serious and says, “THAT guy’s probably gonna die.”  The end.)  But today an anchor actually looked at the camera and said, “This isn’t the kind of thing we see very often.”

I’m sorry.

What?

VERY OFTEN?!  When have you ever seen a six year old float away in a homemade spaceship?!  That would be NEVER, my friend.  Never.  Not once.  Not last week.  Not since Area 51 was the talk of the town.  Never.

5) And finally, let’s just address the little fact of where Balloon Boy actually was…  After his parents have called out the National Guard or whatever military service they were using.  After CNN has had this kid as their breaking news headline for the majority of the day.  After I have spent the last two hours of my workday glued to my computer screen do we find out… Little Falcon?  He was IN THE ATTIC.

Yeah.

ATTIC.

Probably just hanging out.  Playing army or pretending to be Anne Frank.  I’m not real sure what six year old boys do when their in the attic alone while the rest of the nation worries that they might not be alive any longer.  Wanna know why I’m not so sure?  Because the rest of the entire nation and I were too busy watching the spiraling Jiffy Pop container over the Rockies!  Wondering if the child has already plummeted to his death!  Yeah, that’s what I was doing.  What about you?

Long live AH!  Deuces!

*drops mic….

Ok, so we are on the same page now. Tough guy burglar mind frame ready to go hold a newly wed couple hostage in their home. They surely have bucks that we can run with. Right? Right.

Great, let’s also not forget that we are currently wanted in connection with a homicide and burglaries in THREE states. You got that? Homicide and tri-state burglary! Now we can move forward with this plan we’ve devised for the newly weds. Boom, we’re in. [CUT! *camera pans away to off set commentary]

So listen here folks, I. have no effin’ idea what could’ve happened between here and the outcome of this [true] story. I couldn’t believe it when I read the article. This man’s failure threshold is at an all time high. It’s been reported that this burglar (with the mind frame and charges above) was befriended by the newly weds after forcing his way into the house. As in, they offered the man something to drink, some pillows and a blanket so he could lie down in their bedroom. Well, dig this, hombre FALLS ASLEEP! At that point the “hostages” walk out of the home calmly. Ricky Lauss!

“Family members said they received text messages from the couple while they were inside…”

I don’t know about you but if I’m holding somebody hostage, first rule–no cell phones! This man is an ass. So much so that I feel he deserves to be shot–oh wait, he was! Yup, officers surely left him with one in the upper left chest. His injuries weren’t considered life threatening but if I got shot in my chest because I had a cup of Swiss Miss and fell asleep I would be pissed! Ok, so I’ve fallen asleep before and missed an event, party here and there but no one has ever shot me in the chest for it. This man is a loss collector! If I’m ever winning too much and would like an express loss delivered to me right away, I’m definitely sending this guy a text. Ha!

*sends faux-gold Ricky Lauss of the month award…to his hospital.

A. Musin, out.
Long Live AH!

So over the past few weeks I’ve seen a few chucklers on the good ole’ iron horse but I wanted to compile a list of hilarity to deliver all at once. Well, what are you waiting for, see list below:

1) The F train stops at 71st Street to do the most intense transfer [blatant hyperbole] known to man. People are flying in and out of this train trying to scramble to catch the next. So this older chubby dude was the last to attempt the switch; his face meeting only the soon closing doors. With one last burst of energy he forced one arm in and lodged his shoulder in the door. Wild already. So he then pulls some Hulk shit and rips open the door of the train. With grease stains and all Captain Rotund finally lands his first foot through the now open door. AS he THINKS to lift the other leg to make the big walk in comes the NYPD, “excuse me sir, get off the damn train and show me some ID.” Yea, fail!

2) If there was a Family Feud Episode with a section titled, “Things you would find on the NYC Subway” I’m sure that there would be a heated battle for number 1. Would be a nail biter between Newspapers & Bums…I really don’t know who would come out the victor (no, I don’t know anyone by the name, asshat). Anyway, newspaper wins (for this post) and I’ve seen some shit. Just this morning I saw an older man briskly flipping through the pages of this today’s paper. One page after the next, quickly. It almost looked like a slow motion newspaper cartoon. So I’m thinking to myself, got damn gramps can read like shit! Either that or he just wasn’t interested in ANY of the articles. So out of curiosity I peek over and I swear to you the shit was upside down. Old man, its much better to read the paper right side up. Be good now.

2a) If you are going to fall asleep, put the paper down. I know you can’t always see the sandman coming but you KNOW when you’re tired. Nothing more embarrassing than falling asleep and having your wrist do one last fall to your lap HURLING your newspaper into the aisle of the train. Then when you wake up (right after) you see your newspaper on peoples feet and then have to pick it up. Not your best moment little Indian man, not your best.

3) The train transfer game is tricky. Thus with any tricky game there is a high risk of losing. So this person had to be late because he was staring across the way impatiently waiting for the E train to come like a starving person waits for their supper. He saw the (faster) E train approaching, then jumped from his (comfy F train) seat and sprung towards the door only to be the first witness to both doors closing. Loss. He lost his seat, and got stuck standing on said train. Imagine what the person that took his seat is thinking, probably laughing plenty on the inside I bet. What really sucks is the other train across the way was only another effin’ F train. The saddest part of this all is that well; this person was me. :/. Musin takes the loss and chalks it up to experience.

Long live AH! Enjoy the weekend!
Musin, out.

P.s. Why is it ALWAYS the Chinese lady that wants to squeeze into the middle seat that never was? Them and the…well; portly folk.

We went out to celebrate for my good friends birthday and UNFORTUNATELY we were provided music by the earth’s most annoying disc jockey–ever.

I seriously wanted to hurl a bucket of damp, recently chewed chicken bones at this man. I understand as a DJ you should love the music, but this man took it to an all new level–that of a nuisance.

I’d like to remind you that the events listed on AbsoHilare.com are all 100% factual and can be verified if necessary. Anywho, with that said, I would like to let you in on the fact that this DJ came out with all the bells and whistles–literally! By that I mean he brought with him a microphone, two turntables, some random DJ software, a bell and a blasted whistle!

This arse [DJ Fail] was doing the standard Michael Jackson set, and I can’t lie he was doing very well until [you knew an "until" was coming very soon & well, there it was] I suddenly hear a very carnival-esque beat over THRILLER (said like Dave Chapelle). I’m wondering what song is this dude about to mix in that has those crazy (in a bad way) drum patterns. I listen to a lot of music, and can even tell what song a dj will play next just by one hint of the beat. But I thought long and hard (actually it was about 7 seconds) and I came up with no such song!

So I then turn to look, and the DJ (while standing directly in front of the microphone) was fervently striking a fucking COWBELL! I couldn’t believe it! Imagine being at a fairly trendy decent bar and seeing the house DJ playing a cowbell; anti-bueno. So after he puts the cowbell (still abso ridic) away, he then began to break out into a [very loud] hand clap. From there it went to the routine from Thriller all while blowing a whistle–a WHISTLE!

Every time someone else showed up, I would immediately try to explain to them my strong hatred for the DJ. My blood pressure would raise as my story would always get interrupted by DJ DoucheBag abusing the friggin’ cow, without fail.

One time I got so fed up, I went to punch him in the face ask him to chill out with the damn bell. I got to the dj booth, low and behold this courageous mofo was actully wearing a brown graphic tee that read “More Cowbell”. I couldn’t believe it, I laughed harder than ever before. I laughed for seriously two full minutes. YOU try finding something that warrants a two minute laugh and see…not many things I tell you, not many at all.

Actually, imagine this [below] being the DJ. It was that ridiculous:

But yeah, I’m glad to be back. Glad to have you back. Until next time, Musin–OUT!

Long Live AH!

P.s I have no idea why I told you his shirt was brown, meh. That is all, carry on.

P.p.s Random question of the day: What nationality is responsible for keeping the brand Skechers alive?
Answer: Mexicans. Yup, Mexicans. Better luck next time.

I’m sitting in the auditorium (which is entirely too big for what we need it for… we have 6 new residents…) and I’m counting heads and I only count five…  Hmm… Well, that’s odd.  Certainly not the way I would want to start out the first day of my new CAREER.  We decide to begin orientation without her… Ten minutes in?  A blur of tangled brown hair flies past the doorway to the auditorium.  Clearly, this girl was not watching where she was going or she would have stopped at the appropriate door and not sped past it like a bat out of hell.  (Which while we’re on the topic… sort of… Is a bat out of hell faster than a normal bat???)  I’m fairly sure someone (*cough! ME *cough!) made that sound a car makes when it comes to a screeching halt… I dunno… Seemed appropriate…  ANYWAYS, she gets into orientation ten minutes late and finds herself seated next to your’s truly.

Not the best spot if you want to remain unnoticed… I’m a people watcher… I do it like it’s my job…

So, she’s sitting and I get a good look and I start thinking… “My.. that is a LOT of makeup to be wearing for a day outting…  I mean, who wears dark blue eyeshadow?  IT’S SUNNY OUTSIDE.  And her lipstick is just… BRIGHT… And I swear her mascara seems a tad runny or crusty or something…”

And then I look down and see her wrist.

BRIGHT YELLOW PAPER BRACELET.

“2009 45th Anniversary Party!”

You have got to be kidding me.

This girl is still wearing the effing bar bracelet from whatever bar she went to last night.  You know what I’m talking about… The ones you get to scream out, “Look at me!  I’m 21 and I get to drink as much as I want alllllllll night long!!!!”  I’m guessing she got a good hour or two before she hopped on the bar and started dancing to ACDC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”  Yeah, it was there… On her wrist.  During her first day at her new job AS A DOCTOR.

And then the rest of it all falls into place… The make up from last night, the overwhelming amount of perfume to cover up the smell of Bar, the frazzled, ten minute late entrance…  All the pieces of the puzzle fit nicely into one big FAIL.

It could’ve been forgiven.  I could’ve cut her some slack.  C’mon… we’ve all been there.  Maybe not to this extent but we’ve been there… But THEN when I see her at the luncheon THREE HOURS LATER… She still has it on.  Seriously.

There is nothing to do with this situation but to chalk it up to one COLOSSAL first day at work FAIL.

Long live AH!

Thank God for Craigslist. I received an e-mail about a recent [fidiculous] listing on CL and after pissing my pants dying of laughter and coming back as A. Musin II; I decided to post this gem:

“My son is turning 16 and really wanted Lil Wayne to perform for his birthday gala. Unfortunately his schedule will not permit him to make it. I need a Lil Wayne impersonator desperately.

Here is the kicker my son is blind so you do not need to look like the rapper just sound like him. I understand he grunts and mumbles a lot. I don’t care if you are 67 and Jewish if you can sing the songs you’re hired. Money is not an issue. Name your price. Interested individuals please let me know your rap experience, video of you performing as Lil Wayne would be better. If that is not feasible we can arrange for a live audition.

Serious inquiries only, this is very important to my family. Young Money Baby!”

WHAT THE FUCK!?

I don’t even know where to start…I don’t even know if I should start.

*Starts

This is probably the most foul act ever pondered since the beginning of time. “Here is the kicker…” Since when is your son being BLIND to be considered a “kicker?”

Examples of Kickers:
1) I’m selling my car for a low price. Here’s there kicker, it has 300K miles.
2) I’m now good friends with your mother. Here’s the kicker, I bed her AND she likes it rough.

The excerpt above–NOT a kicker, woman! I would in fact like to show you a real kicker, my size 9.5 directly to your chin. Dunce.

This is far too effed up. I realized she said this was a gala. So I’m lead to believe that this kids friends will all be in attendance, right? Right. So unless this kid ONLY hangs out with other blind kids, then don’t you think at least ONE of his [honest] friends would do a little something like this:

Honest Kid: *Pokes blind kid in the side. “Hey dude, its John.”
Blind Kid: Broseph, what’s up? Isn’t this party effin boss? My mom went all out and got Lil’ Wayne and he tore it down!
Honest Kid: Bro, I’ve got shitty news for you.
Blind Kid: Oh what could it be? Nothing could go wrong at my glorious 16th birthday gala, right?
Honest Kid: Ultra wrong. Lil Wayne is not here. He is at a Concert in [wherever]. The dude you just heard is a fat 67 year old Jewish man in a wheelchair. Sorry bro, epic fail.
Blind Kid: *faints

I mean, I’m sure that Honest Kid will be in attendance. Not only will HK be in attendance, he will most likely laugh in BK’s face… (However, BK won’t see it… He’ll only fill the faint droplets of spittle flying onto his cheeks) How does mom do damage control? Does she hide BK in a room separate from all and coax his dear pals into not spilling the beans? Does she make the Jewish Tiny Wayne wannabe perform behind a curtain?? If so, will this only provoke MORE questions and possibly MORE ridicule from HK??? These are the questions that keep me up at night.
And yes, the world is a fucked up place.

Addendum: Tiny Wayne grunts??? Is Mom somehow getting Wayne confused with 1997 Master P??? Please. Any answers would be mucho appreciated. [SAP]

*drops mic.
*does moonwalk of stage (for effect of course).

Long Live AH!

P.s. My video audition got rejected;

Keyboard Cat.

Buddy, your charisma and talent are timeless.  Thanks for everything that you do.  Long live, AH!!!