Dogs

Everyone loves dogs. Even if you're a cat lover, you love dogs. That's because dogs are infinitely better than cats. Duh. I will go out on a limb and say that cat lovers only love cats because they haven't bought a puppy yet. This post isn't about cats, though. Fuck cats, I've wrote enough about those pussies.

Why are dogs so awesome? Simple; because they're not cats! Fuck cats. Did I already say that? Fuck! Cats.

Cats shit in a box. Dogs don't shit in a box.
Dogs: 1  Cats: 0

Cats have fur. Dogs have fur. Dogs have better, softer fur. Stripes are for pussies, anyway.
Dogs: 2  Cats: 0

Cats cough up hairballs. Dogs do not. However, dogs do shed their fur. Fuck it, dogs win. I'm the judge, bitch. Go buy a lint roller.
Dogs: 15  Cats: 0

Cats scratch the shit out of your furniture. Dogs.. don't do that, either.
Dogs: 16  Cats: 0

Cats don't do shit. Dogs fetch sticks.
Dogs: 21  Cats: 0

My judging is over. Except for those fucking cat owners. I will judge them forever for being the pussies they are.

"Oh, look at my kitty, she's playing with her yarn!"

Bitch, please. Your cat is trying to attack a piece of fucking string. Here, let me throw this lint roller at her and see if she "plays" with it. Fucking pussies.

Garfield loving motherfuckers.

I Hold Doors

For whatever reason, women seem to think I'm some self important asshole who only cares about myself. You're wrong, cunts. I'm a gentleman.

Maybe I've had a string of total bitch girls. Stuck up bitches. Get out of here with that bitchassness. Yes, that's a word. Fuck you.

Ladies: Can't find a man who will treat you right? Look no further.

This is Ari Hooley. Well behaved gentleman, classy motherfucker, & sometimes asshole.

Do you need a man to talk to when things just don't seem right? I do that shit. I will even ask you how your day went.*

Ever date a guy who doesn't hold doors for you? Yeah, fuck that shit. You'll never have to strain your petite body again. I hold doors.*

When my lady is feeling down, I feel the need to use my expert cooking skills and cook her a nice, warm bowl of soup.* I'm a master fucking chef. Rarely microwaved.

If you thought those general acts of kindness and awesome fucking manners were plenty for you, surprise females. I will raise my offer. Ever heard of chocolate? Flowers? Diamonds? Nevermind, fuck that. Okay maybe diamonds. I buy that shit.*

* if it scores me some points towards a future blowjob

** sorry ladies, this favor can only be exchanged for a coupon redeemable for one instant blowjob at the time and place of my choosing.. tough shit

It's Just Sports, Bro

As a bro, I enjoy watching sports. That's part of what being a bro is all about, my brethren. But there are some motherfuckers who take that shit WAY too far. I first noticed this when someone sent me a request to make a post bashing a fairly solid team. Just fucking kidding, I noticed it when I seen a half naked fat guy with "Marry Me LeBron" painted on his belly. I said "Dude, sit the fuck down and put that shit away. This is women's volleyball." True fucking story.

If I could count the number of #1 fans for any given sports team, I'm sure I would count more than just fucking one. I see assholes like this all the time on tv. Here's what it sounds like when I watch sports: "Hey, guy with the foam finger! Manning can't hear you from your 50 yard line seats, even if you are in the first row. He's busy throwing an egg and hoping you buy season tickets next year. Pussy! Check out this bitch sitting down like she owns the team. You bought $75 tickets, so put the Raiders snuggie down, stand up, and cheer like you don't know it's 15 degrees below icicle nipples outside. On the list of #1 fans, you're probably somewhere around 13,000. Or what about this douchebag over here? Someone get him a towel, he's breaking a sweat from cheering too hard. Don't pull a muscle while eating that hotdog!" Fuck those assholes.

I fucking hate sports fans, especially the damn stat watchers. I wanna choke the people who feel the need to keep up with the stats of every team in the league. Just fuckin' choke 'em out, put a blanket over their head, and dump them into a large body of water. Wait, what?. How do they have time for this shit, anyway? If you can tell me "Miami is 13 and 5", good for you. If you can tell me the jersey numbers and average points per game of every player on the Miami Heat, go fuck yourself. You're not enjoying sports for the simple entertainment that it is.

Some motherfuckers like to have a favorite team for every sport, and even every league. Then they have their second favorite teams, and of course their third favorite teams, just in case their first and second pick don't do shit all season. How do they keep track of this nonsense? Do they pick every team with blue jerseys? Do they only cheer for the teams that live closest to them? Do they root for the underdog every time? What if the team with the blue jerseys lives closest to them, but they're not the underdog? Or what if they are the underdog but they have red jerseys? How does that shit work?

Everybody hates those assholes who listen to sports on the radio. By everybody I mean me and fuck everyone else. If you want to know what's happening with your local team, you're close enough to join the other assholes at the game. You guys can host a circle jerk there, not on my fucking radio. Fuck.

I like sports but I'm tired of the stats, the bullshit rivalries, and the shitty local teams on the radio. Want to know how I enjoy sports? I stick to watching one team, per sport. That's it. One team. I don't pay close attention to their stats, I don't worry about the teams they play, and I definitely do not fucking listen to them on the radio. And when I select my team for the year, it's not a hard choice. Personally, I choose the team that has the mascot with the biggest dick. Large and in charge.

Fuck My Belly Button

I really hate my belly button. Oh, you thought I was offering someone to fuck my belly button? Fuck that, you twisted bitch. I do hate my belly button, though. It looks like a half innie/half outie. Whatever the fuck that means. Check it.

That's my fucking belly button. If you're thinking "well, that's not so bad" what you don't know is I had to stand 15 feet away from the camera and do some trick photography, black magic, poor lighting shit to make my belly button look almost normal. Truth. What the fuck kind of drugs was my doctor on when he slacked off this job, anyway? I'll never know, but I'd be willing to try them. (Don't worry, I promise I won't deliver a damn baby when I'm impaired. Who does that shit to an innocent child? I know I would probably deserve it now but I definitely didn't then. Maybe this is the whole reason I'm so fucked up in the head. I'm scarred for life. Literally.) This kind of work does not belong on the résumé of a licensed professional. I actually came across a copy of his résumé a while back when I was rummaging through his office, trying to steal medication. Long story short, I got away with some cotton balls and a pair of latex gloves. Weak. Anyway, looking over his résumé, I noticed he looked pretty qualified, but when I came across his greatest weaknesses, shit got weird. By weird I mean I had an epiphany, not I took a pinky finger to the butthole. Here's what it said, no bullshit: "One of my biggest weaknesses is my inability to tie a knot in a balloon. Seriously. If you handed me a balloon, I couldn't tie it to save my life LOL! Hope this doesn't affect my job performance!". Woah, hold the fuck up, dick fingers. If you can't tie a knot in a balloon, then you obviously can't tie umbilical cords. The fuck outta here with that shit. I think if he let me tie it myself, the results would have turned out much better. "Stand back, Dr. Penishands, no one ties my umbilical cord but me." Fuck I should have been the one to tie it. I could have if I wasn't on drugs, too. Wait, what?

Cats: Part Three

I have received a lot of criticism for my posts about cats. I have been called a phony for not getting real cats. This makes me angry. And sad. Very sad. You guys made Patches and Shitstain cry. Oh yeah, I decided to name my wooden cats to show how much I care. I even shed a few tears after receiving all the hate mail. Okay maybe that didn't really happen and maybe I am a fraud. But there was that one time..

Once upon a time I really wanted a cat. Well not really. I wanted a kitten. Thing is, kittens evolve into cats. Truth.

If I really wanted a cat, I would get a full sized lion straight from Africa. Serious. I'm sure a lion can be trained to shit in a box just like a cat. If you're going to keep an animal that isn't really all that domesticated and still relies solely on instincts to survive, you might as well go all out. Balls to the wall. If your pet can't slice your jugular in less than 2.5 seconds, you don't have a real pet. If your pet doesn't attack you simply because you are watching it eat, you're not living on the edge. If your pet can't spit venom, take out a gazelle on the run, eat an entire goat without chewing, or maul you because you accidentally skipped a day of feeding it, then you're a pussy. Don't be a fucking pussy. Get a lion.