Say H’wuuuuuuuuuuutttttt


It’s been a hot minute since my last post to this here blog, so yeah. Here’s another.



I’ve been working full time for the past 7 months, and it’s been 50/50. There’s this deaf guy I work with and he’s a total dick. I work at Johnson County Community college, by the way. I may as well be working at a fucking high school because that’s where all these people are stuck in mentally.

Anyway, I saw an ad for a motivational speaker from London coming in, so I thought I’d go in and see what the fuck he had to complain about because in retrospect that’s like, half of a motivational speech ins comprised of. The other half is how “You can do anything you put your mind to, unless you’re fucking stupid in which case you might as well give up, but I’m just gonna shake your hand and then leave and tell my wife about how shitty my day was and then we will get in a huge argument about how I’m both a workaholic and an alcoholic and get a porcelain vase bashed over my fucking head before I go and do it all over again.” So, yeah. The speech was kinda boring, it was kind of like being punched in the face with brass knuckles for three hours, so I thought I’d shake things up a bit. In the middle of him talking I just blurted out, “And then I soiled my nickers!” Which to my genuine surprise, he got very angry. He said “Young chap, please stand up and introduce yourself” to make things probably worse I said “I’m Tevin and I’m an alcoholic” He also totally believed it and I sorta felt bad but then didn’t because, you know. Just ’cause.

He then turned the tables and made me talk about my alcoholism and everyone was staring at me because they totally know that my name is Noah and that I drink lots of iced tea and blueberry pomegranate Gatorade but since they were all dicks they didn’t say anything. So I said some things like “Sometimes when I’m lonely I go into Target with my pants on backwards and get lots of weird looks” And he said some things like “How does that make you feel, my dear boy?” It was basically a therapy session for a guy named Tevin who doesn’t actually exist. Then it was over and he gave me a brochure with his granddaughter’s email address and a picture of a shotgun pointed at a kid wearing black pants and a shirt that “NO” on it. Little did he realize NO is a band from London that plays super sick hardcore punk and if you don’t check that band out you’re probably that one guy who fucking sucks.

After that incident I went on down to the food court to grab some lunch from a knockoff Chipotle and sat down with a guy who works at the school bookstore. He hit off our conversation with “I know how to say cuss words in 2 different languages. American, and sign language.” That was pretty much it.

To make that day even more eventful, I got an email from someone from the high school I went to, how this person knows my email is beyond me. The email was for a party that she was throwing and it came with the address so later that night I set out. Turns out, she gave me the address to a planned parenthood facility and oh my god, did I seriously just get an email from “Hot Babushka Mingle” because I’m pretty sure I just did but I’m gonna live in denial about it. Where was I? Oh, yeah. The planned parenthood facility. Yeah, it was dumb.

Time for some promotion of my friend’s bands.

^Kansas City punk rock group

^Texas hardcore punk with a female vocalist

OKC hardcore. The vocalist will probably lay on top of you or sandwich you against a wall and make full eye contact for the rest of the song they are currently playing.

If you don’t do the pogo dance while they play I definitely will and you’ll feel left out. From Texas.

Last but not least

Freak punk for the freak punks. Jock turds who go to a four year university need not join in the creepy crawl.

I’m out for now. See you later.


Bed Time Story. Minus Adam Sandler. I Don’t Like Him.

So, if you are wondering why I said I didn’t like Adam Sandler in the title of this, that sucks. Because I have no legitimate answer for that.


Well, It is kinda late, and I think anyone could use somethin’ like this. So, here is a tale about a young boy named Eric, and he is kind of a dick.

It was like, four thirty in the god damn afternoon, and this dude named Eric was at his apartment. This guy was a douche, one time, he went into a Chick Flick in a movie theater and openly screamed “WHERE IS THE SHOOT OUT SCENE?!?!!?” He also didn’t leave after saying it.

Anyway, it was four thirty in the afternoon. And he was hammered drunk. Think about a Frat Boy finishing his initiation and then gets force fed most of the stuff Elvis did. Which I’m not sure if you know this, but that guy did a lot of things. Unforgivable things. Things that would make Mitt Romney think before he talked. And that shit, that shit is next to impossible to happen. Long live 2k12, MOTHER FUCKERS. Since Eric was that hammered, he thought to himself “It is not even five o’clock. Getting my shit together sounds productive, but I’m not gonna do it because I’m labelled as an independent on my W-4.” But he wasn’t. How old was he, you ask? Anyone asking him that would get a reply such as “YOUNG, WILD, AND FREE!!! YOLO!!! LET’S GO TO BUFFALO WILD WINGS!!!”

So, yeah. He watched Cops for 3 hours, then he heard a knock on his door. He yelled “FUCK OFF, JULIAN! I DON’T CARE IF I’M 3 MONTHS BEHIND ON MY RENT.” Then a voice said “It’s your mother, Eric. Open the door.” So he did.

“You haven’t gone to class in a month and are still unemployed. You are now going to pay your own car insurance. Get your life together.”

Now it’s a year later. He is a clean shaven, well mannered, and wealthy stock broker.

No, that’s actually inaccurate as fuckin’ shit stained Joseph A. Bank smartphones. Seriously, that place said they’d give people a smartphone if they bought a suit. Can you say, “Bad PR move”? I can. Because it’s only three words.

Well, I’m done now. I think I’ll go personalize my voice mail to say “This is Noah, and I just wanna say, 98.9 The Rock can shove it. PS, if this is Ted Danson calling, I won’t apologize for giving Woody Harrelson your dentures. I’m not a miracle worker.”


Dude, Fuck Titles.

It’s been like, you know, too long since the last time I shared my stuff. And frankly, I don’t have to go into work until 4pm, so fuck it. I’m gonna put something on here.



             So, get this. I’m not taking my life as serious as I should, but I am not gonna change that because doing shit like this is more fun. I mean, can you see me with a business-dude haircut? You know, the ones that say “I went to college for 8 years to pursue a career that I ended up not wanting to do in the end, then I got married and had 3 kids, a dog who shits everywhere, a cat that clawed up our furniture, and then got a divorce and have been staying in a roach motel with lots of beer and 9mm pistol.” 

Yeah, I dropped out of college. I just walked into the dean’s office and was like “Listen here, bro. I am gonna drop out of this college, and be totally successful with my own computer selling business. How’s that sound, you chicken shit” He looked at me in the eyes and said “I think you need a hug” which isn’t what I needed. Kinda. OK, yeah, the dude has a really nice blazer. Who wouldn’t want to feel that thing without looking like you were groping at his chest? 

Anyway, the computer selling business really hasn’t taken off, and in all honesty, I am not good at selling stuff. Plus, I don’t like negotiating prices. Hey, man. Who needs that 300 bucks? Me, that’s right. Probably would do better for other people, but I’m the one selling you this POS. So, yeah. Have a nice day. Salesmanship is lame.

OK. That one is outta my system. So, this post will be a split one. Two stories in one night, Noah? That is just lunacy. One of my best friends said that. Only he didn’t. That was a fib. Sorry, Jake. Didn’t mean to CRUSH YO EGO, BRAH!!!



                       So, I usually am a total pizza dude. That was my nickname for a minute before my friends poked fun at my ethnicity by calling me “Snowah” It’s really offensive and if you’re reading this, JAMES, you’ve made my list. My “Happy Birthday” email list. I am gonna send your’s out in July, WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. But the pizza thing, yeah. I don’t have a lot to say about it. Other than that one time when I got Pizza Hut delivery and didn’t tip the guy, because, I don’t know, how often do you send a 13 year old Noah Hayes down to the lobby of the apartment and expect him to like, you know, not be a jerk off. I was a little fuck head when I was 13. This one time when I was 13, I straight up told a case manager a very unkind thing. And then she was like “Noah, you can say whatever you want. It won’t hurt my feelings.” That’s just an open invitation right there. So, I guess the aftermath of that was only half of my fault.

Did I just go off on a tangent? Well, yeah. I think I did. And now I have nothing else to talk about. Stupid brain. That sugar I snorted when I was 16 really caught up to me. Don’t judge me, 16 was a weird year.


Alright, check out next weeks post. If I end up doing it. I may just, you know, not do it.




Sick Day

I wanted to update this weekly. But I cannot wait too long to post this one.



So, since I dropped out of half of my classes, ’cause college sucks. I have had a lot of free time to do stuff before going in to work. I woke up pretty late, 1:30pm which meant I only have 2 and a half hours until my work day started. I checked my phone and saw an ad that said the Girl Scouts were selling cookies today. I thought to myself “I need some Thin Mints, and plenty of time to indulge in them.” So, I called my work and my boss answered the phone. The conversation went this way. I was at the bus stop when I did this.

Me: Nancy, I’d hate to bail on you today but I am super sick.

Nancy: Let’s be real for a second. You don’t want to come in today because there is something of interest to you going on.

Me: That’s pretty fucking rude of you.

Nancy: I can hear all of the cars around you.

Bus driver: Boy, you gon’ get on this bus or what? I got other stops.”

Noah: Nancy, these health care benefits suck! Now I’m being shipped across town.

Nancy: You don’t have health care benefits. You’re not full time.

I hung up the phone on her.

I landed on the street where the Girl Scouts sold the cookies. One little girl approached me and said “Hey, mister. Wanna buy some cookies.” I said “Get me all your Thin Mints.” So, she pulled out a fuckin’ calculator. “That’ll be 163 dollars and 28 cents” My lack of brain filter made me utter “You money grubbing BITCH!!!” So I darted towards their supplies box where all the thing mints were and just took 5 boxes and then dipped. One of them that was clearly a dad said “YOU RAT BASTARD, I’M CALLING THE COPS!” He wasn’t kidding. He seriously did it. No joke.

I was pulled over by three cop cars and a mini van that the dad drove. He came out and said “Son, I am willing to not press charges and have you thrown in jail if you give us the cookies and apologize to my daughters. 

Apologizing that way is super passive aggressive so I said I’d just take going to jail. Mistake? Well, I made this blog to talk about not doing the right thing. So fuck it.

I was in a cell with like, a bunch of big buff dudes. I said to one of them, “Well, fella. What are you in for?” He informed he that he just beat a man half to death. It was pretty awkward after that one. 

I got the midnight special, where they let you out of jail at midnight. On my way out, I thought I’d leave the big, violent, possibly illiterate dude by saying. “What’s your name?” He said “My name is Earl.” I couldn’t keep a straight face. I used to love that show when I was 10, my lack of brain filter caused me to say “Can I see your good things to do list?”

It sucked ’cause he also got the midnight special. I can’t feel my legs.

Thanks for checking this one out, assuming you did. If you didn’t, then you’re a fucking asshole.

Intro/Chicken Sammich

Greetings, people. My name is Noah, and as you probably already know, I am REALLY bad at decision making. So I thought to myself today, “wouldn’t it be great to make a blog about all the dumb shit I do?” only I didn’t think it to myself, I said it out loud, in a Canadian accent, in front of the “Canadian Pride” group at school. Needless to say, I’m pretty much a pariah to those mother fuckers.

Anyway, now I’m gonna start my first entry to this blog.



So, the past few months at JCCC, I have been on and off with my lunch fund. Spending it on lots of other things; band t shirts, coffee, gas (UP YOURS, MOTHER NATURE!!!) and the like. Usually when this happens I go to a person at random and propose something like “Dude, buy me a chicken sandwich. I’ll pay you back/buy you one tomorrow” and of course, these jive ass mofo’s totally believe me. Somehow they get a hold of my address and send me death threats, but like parking tickets, those are pretty much useless and not arbitrary at all.

Today it got a little sketch with them. I parked my car in the reserved parking spot, because fuck you, I’m a dishwasher. I deserve these privileges  (I don’t usually get them. My car has been towed like, 18 times this month.) And as soon as I stepped out I was overwhelmed by the smell of Adidas Cologne and an Italian voice saying “My sammiches. They are not here yet.” I just assumed it was the Radio DJ’s giving me crap. I’m not really on the best terms with them either after they heard me chuckling and saying “Yo, CUH. It’s Sweet Dick Willy here playin’ you sum o’dat love-making Rhythm and BLUEEZZZ, MOTHER FUCKAAAA”. I didn’t even turn my head. I just went on my merry way, with that same voice yelling “MOTHER FUCKER, DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME, YOU BEEEEEETCHH!!”

And if it were bad enough, I made even more enemies today.  I was eating microwavable ramen noodles, and right beside me was this tall fella, wearing a monocle was talking with this chick while sipping on some Arizona raspberry tea, and out of nowhere, this one bro walked past him and knocked the tea out of his hands and got it all over his fancy slacks, he screamed “YOU BLOODY WANKER!” and I did what any 18 year old wild card would do, I said “Jeez, Harry Potter. They’re only one dollar and seven cents!” referring to his tea, of course. Those slacks probably costed more than my last paycheck.

All in all, I made it home safely. But I got another letter in the mail. It read this:

Meet me in the bottom parking garage at 11:30pm tonight. Unarmed. With my fuckin’ chicken sammich.”

It’s 10:30 right now. I guess I ought to head over there!

Thanks for reading.