Haiku Deck is the best application for creating presentations on iPad Things I Want to Punch in the Face and Haiku Deck are like peanut butter and chocolate. In other words, the perfect combination. A new app for iPad, Haiku Deck allows you to create powerful presentations, using royalty-free images and bold graphics (check out the original PITF Haiku Deck here; it's hilar). I love a good contest so in conjunction with Haiku Deck, we are asking you to create your own personal Things I Want to Punch in the Face Haiku Deck for a chance to win a copy of Things I Want to Punch in the Face. Here's how it works:
Between now and December 21, think of at least five things you are itching to punch in the face this holiday season. Hate your mother-in-law, your neighbor's outdoor Christmas decorations, crappy regifts? Detail it all through words and images. Using your iPad, type in what you want to punch and then access Haiku Deck's image database to find a good fit for your fury.
Once you've completed your deck, send me the link at jen@jenniferworick.com (include your name and e-mail) and I'll post the deck on the blog, using your first name only.
After December 21, I'll select a winner and announce it on the blog. You'll win a free copy of Things I Want to Punch in the Face, just in time for Christmas!
With an embarrassment of riches, the likes of which have not been seen since Gywneth Paltrow’s guest spot on Glee, your entries made it almost impossible to pick a winner in the TIWTPITF festival of frights. From limp lawn inflatables and parking lot asswipes to forced office gift-giving, the holidays do indeed offer up a host of new things that deserve to be punched until they beg for fruitcake. Oh, I’ve got a gift for all these things and it’s called my left fist. And I have a gift for Sevara, who gets a copy of Beyond the Family Tree for her short list of TIWTPITF. Her first point made me laugh out loud, no small feat during December. Sevara, shoot me an e-mail here with your address and I’ll send out your copy in short order, hopefully in time to use it during your family gathering.
Thanks again everyone; your snark keeps me warm on cold nights.
Yearly family card. Yes, I really wanted to know that your Johnny is making $100,000 a month, and that daughter Jenny just gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl. First of, fuck off. Don't tell me about your perfect family, because we all know that Johnny is an asshole, your family is in debt because you guys are keeping up with the Joneses, and your beautiful, smart, "cough" slut "cough" Jenny got knocked up by some idiot, who was obligated to marry her. Thanks for that fake pose you sent me and Merry Christmas to the Assholes.
Musux. It's the most annoying time of the year! I hate Rudolf, Santa, chestnuts, and all of the other X-mas music. And they start it in-mid October!
Gifts. Okay, I love giving gifts to people I love and enjoy spending time with, like, my family and friends. But other "friends" that believe they are the best people out there, and we are all are "so close". NOT! That is why I never return your calls, emails, texts—because I don't want to talk to you. And I don't want to get you a gift, either. I don't want to spend my money on you. I'd rather burn ten bucks in my fireplace than buy you shit from the dollar store.
Honorable mentions Marissa said... SECRET SANTA at work. I'm forced to spend forty hours of my life with people that, quite frankly, are not my cup of tea. The only reason I grace them with my presence is because some faceless dude is PAYING me to do so. That being said, why the hell would I go out of my way to do something special for the woman who is the very bane of my existence? Or the guy who not so quietly brags about his sexual conquests after a night of binge drinking? HUH? Why would I spend the money I'm being paid to share air space with these goons on gifts for them when I have a perfectly good box of used cat litter ready and available? Secret Santas in the workplace need a firm blow to the face with a yule log.
Shieldmaiden96 said... Christmas letters (in cute fonts, on theme-appropriate laser printer paper) tucked in cards. We have one friend who writes a seven-paragraph Christmas letter every year. It's mostly to make sure we all know how fabulous, unusually advanced, and super-duper creative each and every one of his kids has become, and just how fan-diddly-tastic life is in their household. I hate his kids and I've never even met them.
Obligatory Christmas cards. Seriously, if you think your relationship with my family is close enough to warrant buying a card, locating our address after the umpteenth move, forking over for stamps, and hauling your ass to the post office, the least you could do is write a little message in the card. Just signing your name, or much worse, stamping your name, only makes me want to smack you the next time I see you. I don't give a crap about the cute illustration you picked out for this year; I'd rather get a little note, even typed if you must, about your life. Better yet, give up that glittery mess of a card and just call so we can have a meaningful conversation.
As my gift to you, my beloved malcontents, I'll be giving away a signed copy of my new book, Beyond the Family Tree: A 21st-Century Guide to Exploring Your Roots and Creating Connections (which, believe you me, will come in handy around the dinner table). To win this decidedly un-TIWTPITF prize, simply draft a post of the thing that drives you batshit crazy around the holidays. Be it fruitcake, wreaths attached to car grilles, shoppers wearing santa hats or Quacker Factory holiday sweaters, let it rip. Post your rant in the comments section of this post. I'll pick a winner next week! Merry effin' Christmas!
I’m all for amusement parks. God knows, while growing up in suburban New Jersey, I enjoyed many days of a misspent youth riding roller coasters at that grand utopia of adolescent frivolity known as Six Flags’ Great Adventure which (aside from that horrible Haunted Castle incident in 1984) always seemed to be a safe, fun place to hang out. As the good folks there so aptly put it, “There’s a time for work and a time for play.” This is true. However, there is ALSO a time to bust someone square in the mush, which is why I hereby nominate “Mister Six”, the current TV ad rep for Six Flags, as the latest recipient of this well-deserved honor. If you’ve never seen this so-called “ambassador of fun” in action, you can get a gander at the child-frightening insanity here:
Now that we’re all clear on who I’m talking about, can someone please explain to me how Uncle Junior from The Sopranos got stuck with this fucking job? Better yet, what Red Bull-swilling, coke-snorting genius in the Six Flags’ advertising department came up with this concept? I would LOVE to have been a fly on the wall during that discussion: “Hey, I got an idea for a great new family-friendly way to promote our product! Let’s get an old bald guy in a tuxedo to drive around suburban America in a red-and-yellow version of the Rosa Parks bus and coerce unsuspecting adults and kids into going on a field trip to one of our theme parks by showing off his obnoxious dancing skills! Doesn’t that spell FUN?! Hah?”
How about a nice pipin’-hot fistful of NO, Six Flags? Never mind that your TV spots disregard basic rules for personal safety (RULE NUMBER ONE being: Never let a STRANGER drive you ANYWHERE, especially if he promises that it’s someplace “fun”), but watching a skinhead version of Lew Wasserman freak dance to “We Like to Party” by the Vengaboys does not spell FUN. It spells CREEPSHOW. It doesn’t exactly make me wanna get on a magic bus ride with this Gooney Goo-Goo to Six Flags either, even if it does boast the Rolling Thunder, Lightning Loops and a Log Flume. It does, however, make me wanna go smashmouth on your mascot’s ancient ass. I wanna knock him right out of his two-tone boogie shoes and throw him in front of the Runaway Train. In fact, if I set foot inside the gates of a Six Flags ever again and I see this obnoxious geriatric spaz so much as “bunny hop” within 50 feet of me, I’m gonna send a big fat knuckleblast flying into that gaping Latex mug of his. So consider yourself warned, ya rug-cutting Crypt Keeper. Fortunately, I’m not the only one who feels like inflicting physical harm on this silly, street-swingin’ septuagenarian. The folks at Robot Chicken have already arranged an all-too fitting demise for him, which is, admittedly, a lot more violent than a biff to the cakehole. But hey…this is America and the right to bear arms, even the animated kind, is one I can support in this case. So, kudos to them for offing this dancing douchebag; Uncle June himself would have approved. Then again, I would have been happy if they’d used a giant Claymation fist, too.
—Kevin Byrne
Kevin suggested I write about Mister Six a while back, but since I don't live near a Six Flags, I hadn't been introduced to—that is, driven to the brink of insanity by—the commercial. (photo: cracked.com/blog)
Hey! You! Gray-bearded guy with glasses on the recumbent bike. I see you. You don’t really need to wear that Body Glove circa 1980 neon yellow windbreaker. Or fly that dorky bright orange flag behind your seat. WE SEE YOU down there. Oh, and that rear-view mirror arm that’s attached to your helmet? That is one accessory YOU ACTUALLY NEED so that so you can see me drive up behind your ass and punch you in the face.
Dude. Why ya gotta be? What ARE you trying to prove? That you’re still an active, athletic man? Sure, you’re technically riding a bike WITH A BUILT-IN CHAIR but you look like you’re pedaling your grandson’s Big Wheel while real men BLOW by you on their road bikes. Sure, your Terra Tryke cost you $1000 but you look like a douche bag. And wear some deodorant, why dontcha? No one wants to smell your old-man decay.
Oh yeah, I see you next to my truck’s wheel well, pedaling furiously to prove yourself. Give it up recumbent bike guy; once you see my fist coming at you, your riding days are over!
This post comes from Lil. I particularly dug this post, as I live in Seattle and see these ponytailed eco-warriors clogging the lanes during rush hour.
As I pored over the many submissions for Punch Bowl 2009, my heart was full as I realized that, like that lame Michael Jackson song, I am not alone. I am blessed to have friends and strangers who think like me and want to punch like me. You've taught me something new, you've made me bust a gut laughing, and you pissed me off for beating me to the punch on some really deserving people, places, and things.
So without further ado, let me get to showcasing the TIWTPITF Punch Bowl posts that really tickled my fancy.
And as you read through the winning entries this week (there are definitely more than 5, so I'll be posting a few a day), I urge you to comment on each other's posts. Show the punch-drunk love, my caustic, curmudgeonly, cynical, and hilarious friends.
It's the Punch Bowl deadline today and I've received some really fabulous posts for next week. Some are short, a couple are long, and some folks have anger that can't be contained by a silly word count. And I thought I had issues…
It's not too late for YOU to punch something in the face. I don't give a rat's ass what you pick to pick on. Just promise me that you won't hold back.
Send Punch Bowl entries to me (subject line: Punch Bowl) by the end of the day. The best smackdowns will be showcased all next week.
(And I know; you sort of want to punch the boxing glove art in the face, don't you?)
To get your juices flowing for your Punch Bowl entry (due tomorrow!), I thought I'd share a list of things my friend Camille wants to punch in the puss. After a "craft night" at my place (which basically translates into lots of wine and reruns of What Not to Wear) where we brainstormed TIWTPITF ideas, she sent me an e-mail the following morning. This is her unedited list that I suspect was fueled by ire and caffeine. As you can see, punch-worthy items are all around us. By the way, I love Camille.
Dumb-ass kid shows like Thomas the Stupid-Fucking Train
People who don't call you back
Proprietors who ignore you when you go into their store, like they're doing you a favor
Government bureaucracy
Being on hold for 15 minutes then having the phone tree hang up on you
Paying bills
People who park too close to my door so I can't open the goddamn door
The fucking gray Seattle winters
Running out of material while I'm in the middle of a craft project (no wire, no metal)
Paying taxes
People who let you know how smart they are
Ivy league graduates because they usually tell you that they went to Stanford, Harvard, Yale, etc.
Rich people who complain about having to go to Aspen, or some other hoitie toitie expensive place that normal people can't afford
Rich people in general
Inconsiderate people
Vegetarians who look down their noses at us meat-atarians
Stupid ass mothers who potty train at 2 years by using some new age bullshit called Elimination Communication—yeah right!
Same stupid-ass mothers who then brag about using Elimination Communication
New agey parents
Political correctness
NIMBY-ism
Anti-growth advocates (excuse me, cities are meant to grow and become dense with population, that's why it's a city, dumb ass)
Nosy, creepy neighbors
Prices continue to rise and/or stay high while the economy tanks, come on—give us a good sale
400-dollar sunglasses
Snotty Sephora makeup girls
People who don't swear
Happy people (there's something seriously wrong with these types of people)
People who dis coffee (coffee is my God and I worship my God daily)
Heavy doors that you have to push with all your strength to open
Bottled water (what the hell ever happened to water fountains? I never thought I'd pay for water)
Oxygen bars
People who don't take the Lord's name in vain
Losing a sock
People who don't like bacon
Seattleites in general who harbor some passive aggressive "I'm cool because I recycle/don't smoke/do yoga/hike" resentment towards normal people
Discrimination against smokers (let them ruin their lungs and skin in peace for God's sakes)
There are only days left to tell me who or what you want to punch the crap out of. Write up your post and send me your entry by May 29 (that's this Friday, yo!). Whether you loathe a song lyric (Michaela, I'm talking to you), a redonculous commercial (Kevin?), or want to get all up in television's grill (Jess), write a post and send it to me.
Then, next week, from June 1–5, I will post the best TIWTPITF guest posts. Don't worry about photos; I'll find the images for your post. In addition, I'll link to you and whatever site or blog you indicate. Or you can be all mysterious and shit and go anonymous.
Send Punch Bowl entries to me (subject line: Punch Bowl) by May 29.
Punch Bowl 2009 is less than two weeks away! Entries are flowing in from all corners of the globe but I suspect that there's more that y'all want to punch. I know it's hard after a lifetime of holding back and being polite, but we won't judge you. In fact, we'll be right there with you, punching your peeve in the face.
From June 1–5, I will post the best TIWTPITF guest posts that are sent to me (along with your name and any links you want included; you can also choose to remain anonymous). Pick something super specific—like a terrible waiter named Neil at that new restaurant you just went to—or something we can all get worked up over—a horrible snackfood or band that makes us scratch our heads over its popularity, for example. I don't care. Just let it rip and make it funny.
Send Punch Bowl entries to me, your head pugilista (subject line: Punch Bowl) by May 29.
It's time to let the inmates run the asylum. Like Nurse Ratched, I usually like to administer the pain myself. However, for one week only, it's your turn to punch back. From June 1–5, I will post the best TIWTPITF guest posts that are sent to me. Pick something super specific or something we can all get worked up over. I don't care. Just let it rip and make it funny.
Send Punch Bowl entries to me, your head pugilista (subject line: Punch Bowl) by May 29.
P.S. I never want to punch anyone who has taken the time to leave a comment. In fact, just the opposite. Sadly, I've never been able to figure out how to post a comment on my own blog posts. Blogger isn't cooperating. In fact, it's being a dick. Any suggestions to rectify this will be mucho appreciated, as I definitely want to respond to y'all.
If you dig what you read, Pin it, Instagram it, Digg it, Stumble it, post it to Delicious, whatever. Click on the "share this" button at the end of the post and pick your social medium/media of choice. And yep, I'm on Twitter. Follow me for a daily punch.
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