Spoiler Warnings Bitter Fridays


Friday is now upon us…please spoil the ending.

If you have read the internet in the last few weeks, you know there is a new fad going around.  It involves movies, TV and Youtube videos.  For some reason, people get busy doing work, going to school functions like school curriculum night or shopping for food and other unimportant tasks.  Poor, sad, cleverly written shows and movies that have been well plotted out with thoughtful structures that are meant to fool you and your genius friends with fantastic endings that shock and amaze.  Reviewers, those bitter writers that aren’t creative enough to make their own movies, TV or Youtube videos, so they tear down others work, because they are compensating for something, have come up with a new phrase.  For some reason reviewers are okay with ruining someones career by giving them a bad review, but when it comes to “ruining the end” they cry SPOILER WARNING and hide key plot points from audiences and allow people to discover the surprise endings themselves.  Come on, really? Why would anyone ever want to go see a movie, if they didn’t know the surprise ending? I’m going to go ahead and tell you every spoiler you could ever want to know.  See below…


Spoiler warning…


He drives off a cliff right after.

He drives off a cliff right after.


Spoiler warning…

His hands become solid and he beats his bitter rival.

His keeps rotating his hands so fast he turns into a giant fan.


Spoiler warning…


It was revealed later that his gloves were glued to the ropes as a practical joke.

It was revealed later that his gloves were glued to the ropes as a practical joke.


Spoiler warning…



He just saw a trucker hat that was cooler than his…


Spoiler warning…

He just found out his went over his allowed data for the month.

He just found out he went over his allowed data for the month.


Spoiler warning…


He just got called for his first foul ever in the NBA.

He just got called for his first foul ever in the NBA.


Spoiler warning…

His Redbox is due in 5 minutes.

His Redbox is due in 5 minutes.


Spoiler warning…

My answer was not much.

My answer was not much.


Spoiler warning….

He starts a career in not biking.

He starts a career in not motocross riding.


Spoiler warning….

He has older brother.

He has an older brother.



Spoiler warning…

His career in mascotry doesn't take off.

His career in mascotry doesn’t take off.



Spoiler warning…

His experiment was disproved.

He was a wreck the next day.


Spoiler warning…I’m gonna go eat some pizza and take a nap under my desk.  Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll get the wrecking ball.


Bitter Spoilered Ben

The Bitter Realm Conclusion – The Lost Relics



A nightmare of boredom. 

So as you probably don’t remember because it was all the way back in July (I know, a couple of months ago, how is anyone expected to remember that long ago?) I decided to join another realm because I was so sick of this one.  If you can’t remember what was going on, I don’t blame you, because I don’t remember either.  Since that is the case, both you and I are going to be forced to go back and read Part 1 and Part 2 again if we are ever going to figure out what is going on here.  So go back, read those two (or don’t) and here concludes that one time I went to another realm.

An FYI for those lazy people that just couldn’t go back and read Part 1 and 2, I’m in the video game realm and I got assigned to be in the upper right portion of the the Ms. Pacman maze, on like level 64 or whatever….

To myself: I have been sitting here in this freaking maze for days now. How do I get out of here? I need to text the location committee. How’s the Wi-Fi here?

Pellet 46 Upper Right Portion of Maze (right next to me): We don’t have Hi-Fi here.  Unapproved and loud music is banned here.  Ms. Pacman may see us and hear the music and get distracted.

Me:  No, not Hi-Fi, Wi-Fi.  It’s…never mind.  I just need to speak to the person in charge around here.  I’ve been placed in this stupid game incorrectly.  I was supposed to be one of the heroes in Gears of War. I just need to get reassigned.

If I worked out a little, I could look like that...

If I worked out a little, I could look like that…At least I have his bitter look “worked out”.

P46URPoM: Whoa, I’ve heard about that game. Sounds awesome.  I heard you had to take steroids to be in that game.  You don’t exactly look like you, um, even lift. Why don’t you go talk to C?  She’s the boss of this section of the maze.  She’s in the shed looking office that’s always blinking.

Me: You better shut it, 46 or whatever your name is.  I used to play basketball.  You need different muscles for that.  How do I find her?

P46URPoM: She’s 4 pellets east, then 2 north.  She has red hair.

Me: Later, dude. Enjoy being stuck in the 80’s.

I abandon my space in Upper Right Maze Pellet 45.  I walk swiftly past the whole row, all of them just sitting there waiting, hoping and praying that some person in the universe will play Mrs. Pacman again.  Maybe in the 80’s some Ms. Pacman savant made it this far, but I’m 102% sure it isn’t happening again.  I round the corner and a big huge C appears.  I wonder if this is the place, I think sarcastically to myself.  I knock on her…uh shed.  Every paper is neatly stacked, every Post-It note is placed precisely.  Even the monitor is perfectly spaced between the two sides of her desk.

C: Come in please.

She continues typing, not losing a beat when I enter.  I’ve never seen anyone type so fast.

Me: Hi, so I guess you are my boss or something? C is it?

C: How are you adjusting to your new environment?

Me: Well, that’s the thing…

C: Yes, I agree.  We have a high standard here of order and neatness.  You…how can I put this delicately..You’re not Ms. Pacman material.  We’re reassigning you.

Me: What? That’s so terrible…please don’t…Well, okay if you insist. So, what is my new gig?

C: You are to be an adventurer.  You will scowl the ends of this game for the forgotten relics.  Once you find the three, combine them together and you will be transported to your true destiny.

I wonder what she was typing.  She was probably writing a report of everything we said, doing status reports, looking up a recipe for chicken and she probably even had time to type up a novel.  All while telling me all this stuff.

Me: Awesome, so what am I collecting?

C: Here’s the list.

The list appeared on her printer and she grabbed it and handed it to me, all without missing a single keystroke.  She was so fast, she could probably be Ms. Pacman.

Me: Whoa, my mitt from kindergarten? My wallet I lost in Cincinnati? And all these single socks? I kept wondering what happened to all these things. Well, this explains a lot.

C: Have fun being our glorified janitor.

She says it so I can barely hear it.

Me: What was that?

C: Nothing. Good luck on your adventure.

I go back to my cubicle to get my stuff.  In one of the drawers, I see a piece of tan leather.  I pull it out.  Four oversized fingers, a Reggie Jackson signature, an old ball still stuck in it.  That is definitely the baseball mitt I lost in kindergarten.  I put it on and realize that I had much smaller hands back then.  Why did I care about this thing again?

I see a sign at the intersection of the upper right part of the maze.  Lost and found.  OOOH, cool. I wonder what kind of relics are missing in a Ms. Pacman maze.  I open the door.  No one is there.  I look in the box and there is only one thing.  Some more leather.  What the heck?  I look a little closer.  It’s a red wallet.  No money in it.  No credit cards, not even a library card.  Except in the right pocket. A picture.  My senior picture.  I’m decked out in a black tuxedo, with purple cummerbund and a black basketball, spinning on my finger.  Wait, why did I want this wallet so much?

I walk out to the right side of the maze.  Finally I can get out of here!  I walk to the right, but somehow end up on the other side of the maze.  Uggggh, idiot! The stupid thing tunnel from the game that just leads to the other side.  How do I get out of here again? I’ve got to get the last lost object. How about the middle of the maze?  That’s where the ghosts hang out, right? Maybe they have a way of getting out.

I knock on the door and it sounds hollow, like no one is in there.  I walk in, turn on the lights.  There in the corner is a stack of clothes.  Red, Pink, Orange and Blue.  Eye holes cut out.  Next to them, a dryer.  It can’t be.  Really? I go over and look inside.  A freaking stack of socks.  All mine, one the size of my big toe, one I lost last week, and all sizes in between.  All of them stuck in this one dryer.  I fill a laundry basket full of my missing socks.  Well, now that I have them all together, I can as C said, gather them together and go to my new assignment.  My destiny. I grab a laundry basket and put them all in there.  A white light appears.  It pulls me in.

She said when I gathered them all together, I would be transported to my true destiny.  Not wanting to delay my true destiny any longer, I open my eyes.  It’s my computer. And my phone.  And a stack of work that I need to get done by the end of the day.  My true destiny.  Sitting at my desk.

As I leave that day, I look in my desk for my keys.  Oh crap, I left my keys…IN. THE. MAZE.

My true destiny.

My true destiny.



Bitter Vidiot Ben

Guardians of the Bendramada Galaxy


Done saving the Galaxy, they turned their attention to less important matters.

I’m sure you’ve all seen the recent Marvel movie, Guardians of the Galaxy, which is about a small team of unlikely and really bitter idiots superheros that somehow come together AS A TEAM to save the Galaxy from getting destroyed by some random evil villain like person.  I figure if those idiots could save the ENTIRE GALAXY, that I could at least save one planet.  Of course, if you’ve met me, or listened to me drone on and on about how lazy I am, you would probably know that if it can’t be saved by microwavication, or by eating pizza or pushing the easy button, I’m pretty sure I’m too lazy to not only not save earth, I don’t even think I could save my home state of South Dakota, and really why would you? There are less people that live there than the metropolitan areas of most of the cities that most of you live in.  If South Dakota is the only thing I save in the entire world, then we would have maybe enough corn and wheat to survive, but you would have to teach the people there (northern rednecks) how to tauk gud.  The problem being that if I saved it in winter, they wouldn’t even know that they were the last people on the planet until late May when everything thaws.  (By the way, if you are one of the few people from my home state that read this, just pretend I was making fun of North Dakota.  Vice Versa for you North Dakotians. It’s called sarcasm, which you may not have learned in your kindergarten to 12th grade schoolhouse.)

Since our Galaxy isn’t in danger(maybe it is, but I don’t notice, cause I only care about myself.), I hopped on Spacebook and favorited the GOTGG (Guardians of the Galaxy Gang) Fan Page. After a little persuasion (some pub on this blog) they agreed to protect the Bendromeda Galaxy.  Since the only defense I have are defense mechanisms and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with them because I’m not mechanical, I hired the people that are best at “defending the galaxy” to protect mine.



Hey, Star Lord here. You’ve never heard of me? Fine you can call me Pete.  Or Quill.

Let me introduce you to this guy here named Star Lord. You might have also know him as Peter Quill.  He’s originally from a planet a lot of you are not familiar with called Earth.  His mother died right before he was abducted, so sometimes he’s sad, he still listens to 80’s music and he found this really cool glowing orb that everyone keeps trying to steal.  He’s not sure what all the fuss is about because he was just going to use it to play some baseball.  He has been asked to keep my denial intact.  Mine needs a lot of defending because I have already taken over the world, have won 5 NBA championships and live in a mansion in Beverly Hills.  Not because I want to be anywhere near psychotic celebrities, but because the sun shines all the time in LA, especially at night.  By the way, there is no such thing as smog there, and the beaches are totally peaceful and serene and crystal clear.  If all those things are to remain true to me, Star Lord must fight against all the haters that are either realistic or who are from the evil land of common sense.


Meet Rocket Racoon. He’s angry. Can’t understand why and undersized racoon that is always going to jail could be angry.

This tiny furry critter here is Rocket the Racoon – He is a con man(uh, con raccoon) who happens just happens to be searching for the orb thing that Star Lord has.  He’s been locked up in just about every prison in the galaxy, and with that experience has also broken out of every single one to.  His favorite color is orange for obvious reasons and a lot of people say he sounds almost exactly like Bradley Cooper. He’s in charge of protecting my Acting Out defense mechanism. Clearly the world has not paid enough attention to my blog and other endeavors, so I have devised a way to act out to get the attention that I so richly deserve.  I have a planned tantrum that will be taking place on the news later, that will go viral and will teach all of you insignificant fools to pay attention to my every whim.  Then, as soon as you start paying too much attention to me, I will make impassioned pleas to the media to leave me and my myself alone at this difficult time.  Mr. Rocket will make these devious cries for attention go smoothly.


"It isn't easy being Green." - Yoda or Kermit

“It isn’t easy being Green.” – Yoda or Kermit

This is Gamora. She is a princess, and the adopted daughter of Thanos, the guy that is trying to destroy the universe.  She may or may not have daddy issues, and just like sage Kermit or Yoda said, it’s not easy being green.  Also it’s not easy being the daughter of a psychotic overlord that wants to destroy the universe.  That being said, I’ve asked her to be the guardian of my Intellectualization.  I know you are probably laughing at this one, because you have to actually know stuff to use that defense mechanism, but you should know that I have access to Google and Wikipedia, and sometimes I look up stuff to appear smarter.  And whenever I feel defensive, I pull out some random facts from Web MD and start telling doctors what to do.  Whenever they question my wild fact assumptions, I just use my avoidance technique called Homering.  It works almost every time.  And if it doesn’t I have the backing of one green space princess, so don’t mess with my intellect.

I don't understand sarcasm.

I don’t understand sarcasm.

Meet Drax the Destroyer.  His family was killed by that dude Thanos (such a stirrer of trouble, that Thanos), so of course he wants revenge and who better to get it on by the adopted daughter.  He was never a fan of Kermit or daughters of evil guys that kill his family.  He is also known for his ability to not understand sarcasm.  Many humans also lack this vital skill, but he took it to another level.  This is why I have entrusted Drax to defend perhaps my most valuable and well honed defense mechanism humor.  This needs the most protection as you might know, because without it, how would I used the highest form of comedy, the pun, against my worst enemies.  How would I be able to combat the ignorant and pathetic without my sharp wit and biting sarcasm.  Without these, I would have little defense against the idiots of the world.


Three words: I am Groot.

Three words: I am Groot.

Last and perhaps weirdest is this undergrown tree looking dude that drinks water from fountains and spouts magical fireflies named Groot.  He is Rocket the Racoon’s sidekick, he is only familiar with one phrase, and he is an excellent dancer.  When you look at him, you think peace and harmony, and being one with nature, but he buries his batitude and bad guys underneath that woody exterior like bad guys try to bury him (you know his roots in the ground.) He is perfect for guarding my sublimation defense mechanism, burying my deep anger and bitterness in the ground, while I try to act like a civilized human being.  But just as Groot, hides under that innocent wooden look only to be a surprise the others at the end with some full on aggression towards those that are threatening his friends, I will also be unleashed one day to take over this world with my sound and fury, signifying something.

The Guardians have done well, guarding my defense mechanisms and will continue to hide in the shadows for when evil amateur psychologists threaten my bitter way of life. There is no more evil in the universe than those who try to bring out my deep internal issues and try to make me whole.  For now, the Bitter Bendramada Galaxy is safe.

Or is it…


Bitter Bendramada Ben


Monday Morning Bitterness

Just like everyone else, I just can’t believe the weekend is over and I have to return to the scene of the crime, I mean work.  If I have to be here, I might as well make all the of you miserable, by making a heavy sigh, Hhhhhhh, and rubbing my eyes, reh er reh er, leaning backward on my chair and rolling my eyes as if this is the worst thing ever, ughhhhhhhh, then putting a few bitter pictures on here about how little I want to be here right now.


Retelling the joke even better.

I don’t know, what’s updog with you?


Good morning floor.  How are you?

Good morning floor. How are you?


Another fantastic chance to not use algebra today!

Another fantastic chance to not use algebra today!


Back to your cage cubicle.


Bitter Monday Ben

Jettisoned Bitter Friday Pictures



Just the other day I realized that jettisoned is one of my favorite new words.  Probably because of what it means, or at least what I thought it meant.  I thought it was some general word about getting rid of something in your life to lighten your load.  But then I had to go to the stupid dictionary and found out it was more of a specific thing where jets or boats releasing cargo to lighten their loads.  I don’t care what the freakin dictionary says.  I’m inventing my own meaning for this word and putting it in the Alphabitter(read this post for more), my own personal bitter dictionary.  All I know is ejecting things from my life is what I want.  Here are some examples of cargo that needs to be jettisoned from my life:


People that think they are so important…


…that they need to comb their hair everyday.





…that are trying to bully me.




…that never stop talking.




…that aren’t quite on the ball.


People that aren’t..


…outstanding in their field.






…that need to kick it up a notch.


Dudes that are…



…better at insults than me.



It’s like taking candy…


…from a kid that is a sucker.





…that get taken to school by a fish.



Experts that can’t take a little…


…face painting.





…that have a little baggage.



People that think….


…they’ve got a chance againtst gravity.



It’s Friday, so I am going to go work on jettisoning my work on to someone else.  I’m going to put all my energy into that today. So now that you’ve seen a few examples of things that I want to get rid of, what do you want to jettison? Besides me? (That goes without saying.)


Bitter Jettisoned Ben


Some amount of reasons why swimming makes me bitter

Breathe in that nice refreshing water.

Breathe in that nice refreshing water.


I spent a lot of time this summer swimming in pools.  We went from water parks with amusement park rides, to water parks with lazy rivers to a pool that just had a diving board.  Several of those times we ended up getting wet.  In fact, did you know that when you go swimming, water gets everywhere? In your hair, in your eyes(except when you wear goggles.  Then it really get in your eyes.), your nose, your mouth, under your arms, on your feet, even on your knees.  That stuff gets everywhere and nothing short of a towel wipedown or sun will get it out.

Here are some of my other observations about the bitterness of swimming.

Breathing – Did you know that when you stick your head underwater, you can’t breathe? Why? Why would I or anyone that I know who breathes air for a living ever do this?  It doesn’t make sense.  I need air to breathe, not water.  We’ve had this exclusive deal with the trees for years now to exchange some toxic monoxide we breathe in exchange for oxygen.  Why would we go to all that work, working out the deal with the trees only to fight against it and throw it away to go underwater and breathe in water, when we know we can’t breathe it?

How is cooking underwater again?

How is he cooking underwater again?

SpongeBob Squarepants – Maybe it has to do with SpongeBob.  He makes it look so easy.  He doesn’t seem to struggle at all breathing, he doesn’t float to the surface like us underwater noobs, his sponge like surface seem to be able to absorb all the water to make him bigger, and somehow he can cook a Crabby Patty underwater, all while remaining as annoying as a mosquito bite behind your ear. I tried to cook hot dogs the other day underwater and couldn’t even get the grill gill started.

Diving is fun-duh-mental.

Diving is fun-duh-mental.

Diving Board – There is actually a flexible board in some pools that encourages you to jump in deep water. In breaking news, you can also jump off cliffs.  They both hurt just as much when you land and cliffs don’t have boards, so at least they aren’t encouraging you to jump.

Waterfalls – There are actual places in the world where water flows from above at a phenomenal rate.  And people stand under them, of their own free wil and let the water hit them.  Also, some people when they need a little TLC, try to chase them.  From what I’ve heard you should just stick to the lake and rivers you’re used to.

Don't chase them.

Don’t chase them.

Exercise – It’s been said that swimming is one of the best ways to exercise. It gives you tighter muscles, is aerobic, and makes you breathe really hard, because you are always struggling for air.  Sounds exactly like the way I wanted to choke out!

The five Senses -

Smell – The smell of chlorine.  There is nothing like it.  There is a reason why there are no perfumes that are Eau de Chlorine.  If you are lucky you can go swimming in the Ocean, where it smells like salt and sharks want to suck your blood.

Taste – For some strange reason, also salt or chlorine.  Super fun to have the rush of water go through your mouth through you nose or vice versa.

Touch or Feel – For those of you who have never gone swimming, it’s wet.  A similar feeling to taking a shower or “accepting” the ALS “accidently dump really cold water, ice and a really hard bucket on your head” challenge, so you can raise you social media status just to save $90.
Sounds – Slapping of water when people belly flop, screaming of kids drowning, whistles of lifeguards telling you that you can’t stand up when you are riding a waterslide, or run at full bore when it is “slippery”.

Sights – White, pale skin quickly turning to red burnt flesh, blurry blueness under the water, red blood shot eyes of people that open their eyes underwater, waterslides taller than skyscrapers, thousands of inflatable rafts in the water, but none on the pavement when you need a raft for the lazy river.

Big black O on your hand.  Last night before I went swimming they drew a big black O on my hand.  What does it mean? Is that supposed to stand for Outcast, or Ostracized, Outplayed, or Overmatched?  Or does it just stand for Open Mic night Open swim?

Building pools in the middle of the road isn't economical.

Building pools in the middle of the road isn’t economical.

Arizona – I know you guys get really hot, and I know when you get hot, having a pool is a great way to cool down, but could you guys just keep all your pools on private property? Could you stop trying to build them in your streets now?

I’m sure there are other reasons that I missed, because I’m fairly forgetful, especially when there is still water in my ears from swimming.

Let me know what your favorite reasons are for being bitter about swimming in the comments.


Bitter Waterlogged Ben


From the BitterBenzoac Era to the Bitter Twitter Era

Let me just say this so you can be bitter at me.  The post you are going to read below (or not) was from almost a year ago.  I am both too lazy and also too busy to do something new today, so just deal with it.  Also, just so you know, most of you weren’t born (blog-wise) a year ago, so I’m about 1000% positive that like at least some of you have never read this one.  Also, just get over a repeat every once in a while.  Like you’ve NEVER watched Seinfeld, or the Simpsons episodes more than once.  If you haven’t, well your lying and I should know, because I record all of you watching your TV at all times.  I can go back to the tape and find out.  It would be really boring, but I could do it.  I’ve got at least a spare 20 seconds every single day where I could do it.  So don’t test me.  So, here you go.  Lazy post day.  Deal.



My bridge from the younger generation to the older isn't the most stable.

My bridge covering the gap from the younger generation of bitterness to the older generation of bitterness is suspect at best.

I have lived in 40 different years, 5 different decades, two different centuries and 2 separate millenniums. Guess what though, who cares? It’s not the years of bitter experience that allows me to be the unique voice of bitterness to youth of today, and the “more experienced” generations. I am the bitter bridge that spans the gaps between the two because two unfortunate things. The time I was born, and the time when I went to college. You need an explanation? Sure. Here you go.

I was born and grew up in the Pre-Bitterbenzoic era, where black, white and grey were the only colors. If you don’t believe me, check the photo of me as a baby (I don’t have one, you’re on your own there). Only black, white and grey. You want further proof? Find out how to time travel, possess me as a baby and look at the world from my perspective. I’ll give you a minute…. Okay. Got it? See any colors? I didn’t think so.

So what does college have to with anything? When I started college in 1991, phones were unique gadgets with cords that allowed you to make a phone call. In college, that came in handy for things like calling you parents when you were 800 miles away, or calling your boss to tell them that you were faking sick for the 5th time. The best feature of the phone was the lack of caller ID, which made stalking girls easier. But on the other hand, when the phone rang it could have been the President of the United States, your mom, or your idiot neighbor playing a prank. That made it really hard to answer the phone like a jerk.

In 1998, phones did things besides make phone calls.  What that was, I had no idea.

In 1998, phones did things besides make phone calls. What that was, I had no idea.

By the time I ended college in 1998, phones were not only cordless, but they could be taken anywhere and they started having features on them, besides allowing you to make a phone call. Caller ID, voicemail, and even screens with things on them. In other words, it took away almost all of my excuses to avoid people.

When I started college in 1991, there was a computer lab in my school(I think). But what was it good for? The only thing I used computers for was games(computers games were lame back then) and writing papers. Because of the severe allergies I had to writing papers in my freshman year, I avoided the computer lab like a pin at a bowling ball convention. Besides, I had this amazing “word processor” (it had a black background and orange font and that was its sole purpose. Only $700.) that my sister lent me. If I needed to do a paper that was due in 2 hours, I could just make up some words, slap some paper in this thing and turn in my completely terrible piece of writing, and get me a solid D-. I didn’t need a stinking computer. I had bitter things to do like starting food fights in the cafeteria (true story) or playing the dangerous sport of dorm hall football.

When I left college in 1998, I not only had my own computer, but it had the internet, Windows 95, and I was chatting, emailing and power pointing at cyber people like a boss, on screaming fast 28k dial-up. I was bitter enough like the kids that the internet wasn’t fast enough, but also had a bitter understanding of the old people getting cranky because the kids had this stuff handed to them from the moment they were born.

Don't be jealous of my huge stereo that causes a hyrnea just to play a cassette.

Don’t be jealous of my “Ghetto Blaster” that caused a hernia just so I could play an awesome cassette. Or my fresh threads.

As a new college student, I was busting out music gangster style on cassettes. The advantage to having cassettes of course, is the fact that I owned the music. Of course, I needed a cool sounding machine to run the cassette, nicknamed a “Ghetto Blaster” or “Boom Box”. As cool as Ipods are because they could store a billion songs on one tiny device, they couldn’t compete with a nicknames of the machines that could ruin your shoulder just by showing them off. I never see people busting out their Ipods, or Iphones going, “Hey, who wants to do a rap battle?” The best part about getting sick of a song back then, was finding the song on the tape. It wasn’t the inconvenience of pushing a few buttons, but the inexact science of rewinding and hoping and praying you pushed the play button at the exact right time, only to realize the song was on the other side of the tape. Priceless.

In 1998, I was stealing music off the internet, overcrowding my computer with MP3’s and still having trouble finding the music I wanted.

Picture of me in college.  Neck, face and belly have changed, but the expression is the same, classic Bitter.

Picture of me in college. Neck, face, hair(loss) and belly have changed, but the expression is the same, classic Bitter.

What else changed between the beginning of college and the end? How about my face, neck, hair(loss), and of course belly of the Baron of Bitterness himself. When I started college, I was a gangly 6’1 160 lbs. weakling that could run a mile in about 6 minutes. I could dunk a basketball when the rim bent slightly lower than the standard 10 feet and I could avoid breathing super heavily when speeding around campus…in my car.

At the end of college, in 1998, I was a 6’1 250 lbs. weakling that couldn’t run a mile, couldn’t dunk on a 5’0 hoop in NBA Jams, and got winded going from my room to get a hot pocket in the kitchen.

When I started college, finding a job was hard because I had to go to dozens of stores, ask for an application, hand the potential employer a resume that they would avoid and never call you.

In 1998, when college ended, finding a job was hard because I had to go on the internet, fill out dozens of applications, attach my resume on an email to the potential employer they would avoid me and never email me.

So because of my experiences in college, that spanned from the pre-internet world to the world of gadget avalanches, I have a unique perspective of how to be bitter about both time periods. In other words, as the Official Bridge Gapper of Bitter Generations, don’t mess with my ability to be bitter about any of your first world problems. Don’t battle with the Bitter Baron or you will get served…some rhubarb.


Bitter Baron Ben

Keep Calm and Remain Bitter


Just a reminder…


Oh..hey.  What’s up? Just a little reminder…whether your wi-fi isn’t working, your in-laws are in town, or your back hurts because you fell off your roof trying to take down your old satellite and a bear appeared along with a honeycomb of bees and scared the crap out of you…you should remain bitter.  Whether the bitterness is deep below the surface hiding underneath your bubbly smile and happy disposition, or made public by your bitter screams of foul play, keep up the bitter work. I wish you a bitter day of “It’s almost Monday, noooooo!!!!”


Ben Bitter Much? Ben

Smash Mouth Bitter Giftures

I like to break stuff.  Sometimes I do it unintentionally like when I step on my sunglasses or drop my Ipod, or accidentally break a window when I hit a baseball so far that it breaks windows two houses down.  Just kidding I suck at baseball, but I do break windows.  What is way more satisfying is breaking other people’s stuff.  I get an evil bitter chortle when I see an old baseball stadium blow up or if I see a TV show where they get to break down an old house with a sledge hammer.  Well, it’s Friday and I am now fantisizing about breaking the phone system so that no one will be able to call and I will be able to blog in bitterness.  So what to talk about on the blog today.  Ahhh, I got it.  Smashing things.  Batters Up!

Have a Coke…


...and some destruction.

…and some destruction.



Don’t flip out…

...or actually do.

…or actually do.



Game didn’t go the way you expected?

...take it out on the $2000 TV, not the coaches or the players.

…take it out on the $2000 TV, not the coaches or the players.


I’m Samantha Harris, reporting to you live from..


...Videobomb Fail, Michigan...

…Videobomb Fail, Michigan…


Diving is so boring, I can hardly stand to watch it…


...until now.

…until now.  DO IT AGAIN, DUDE!


Oh man this is gonna be great..aaaand…


...oh dang it! That didn't go as planned.

…oh dang it! That didn’t go as planned.


Hey cat, time to eat…

...oh whoops.

…oh whoops.


Why do Rise Bruce?



…so we can learn how fall back down to earth, because Gravity.



Oh, I’m sorry you are feeling sad…


…here I’ll give a real reason to cry.


Don’t mess with Bull…


…or you will get the pillow.



It’s Friday, so let’s gain some momentum…


…toward our inevitable doom.



Hope you enjoy your weekend… 



…cause Monday isn’t looking good.



Alright suckers.  The office has been a little too calm today, so I’m off to make some destruction.  Get out there and smash some stuff.



Bitter Smashing Ben















The Rise of the Blanket Fort



A smaller version of the Basement in my dreams.

When I dream, I often dream big.  In the literal sense.  Back when I was in school, I would have these dreams about this ginormous school that had 8,000 classes and that would take a speed train just to get from one class to the other.  The lockers were the size of a house and the classrooms were the size of arenas.  I would also have recurring dreams about a monster house (by size, not one that contained monsters) that had a 100 acre front yard that lead to a sprawling mansion with trap doors, hidden rooms and whole sides of the house that no one knew about.  One time I found out the basement had a mall.  Not just a strip mall either.  It was a full on Mall of America on steroids so big I would need Paul Blart to guard the place.  I’m telling you, if you ever inhabited my dreams you would need a map just to get lost.


Coming soon to a basement near you.

So, yes I might have a bit of claustrophobia.  And yeah, maybe you amateur Freuds might think I have a secret or two hidden in one of those mansion rooms.  But hey don’t we all?  At least I’m not dreaming of being naked in front of class or dreamin’ of demons.  Point is, I’ve always wanted to live in a house like that.  Not for the exercise, clearly, but if there was ever a time I didn’t want to be found, this house could hide me.  I could commit the crime of the century and the police could search the house for minutes and never find me.  As you have noticed though, there has been a housing crisis in this country since 2008 and it has only recently started to get any better.  And I’m not exactly growing trees in the back yard that grow money.  If I did, the deers would eat it anyway.


Just getting started!

Just getting started!


Blanket Fort early planning stages.

Blanket Fort early planning stages.


Some early neighborhood fights.

Some early neighborhood fights.


Still in progress...

Still in progress…

So is there any hope of me getting into the home of my literal dreams? Yes, yes there is.  I intend to start a whole new market of dwellings.  Blanket Forts. You might ask why blanket forts? I say Why Not Blanket forts?

So what are the advantages of a blanket fort over a traditional mansion?

1.  Easy set up. The blanket fort requires no wood, no nails, no expensive materials. Just blankets, and some sort of fastener.

2. If your imagination can dream it, your hands and some blankets can achieve it. These things can start small, or grow bigger than any mansion you could ever dream of.  Just need more blankets.

3. Harry Potter survived the last two movies(I heard they were based on some books?) in a tent blanket fort.

4. You will survive a Zombie apocalypse with it. Why would any zombie want to invade a place with nice, soft pillows and blankets?

5. You never have to worry about locking your doors.

6. No rent, mortgage or HOA fees.  No one telling you that your grass has to be a certain height, or having to mow your grass at all.

7. It’s portable.  If you call for pizza delivery and you are just outside of the range of the “pizza delivery area”, just move your blanket fort house a few streets down and you are in the biz.

8. A whole new market in the dwelling industry.  New jobs for Blanket Fort Real Estate Agents, new Blanket Fort furnishings at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and Body Works, new Blanket Fort couches and beds at the Mattress Factory.

9. Finally a couple of new letters in MASH.  This might be a new thing for the young ones, but there was a game back in the day when the Ipad wasn’t around to distract us from using our imaginations.  A game called MASH would predict what kind of place you would live in.  Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House.  Well now it would have to be called MASHBF.

10. Last, but certainly least, included in each Blanket Fort is a GUI, or Grown Up Inhibitor.  This prevents anyone who enters your Blanket Fort to act anything like an adult.  Because there are way to many of them around.

Like I said, when I dream, I dream big.  I predict in just a few years my dreams will be about the oversized Blanket Forts instead of mansions. Because there is nothing better than a BF.


Bitter Blanket Fort Ben



Bitter Complaint Day

My Head of Sales.

My Head of Sales.


Welcome back on the most bitter of days.  A Tuesday (worst day of the week) after a holiday (always more work to make up for) after a bitter summer(now begins the bitter fall). Today, I thought I would try something new. If you have ever read my About Page, you know that the reason why I founded this blog was an idea I came up with one day at work way back in 2012(you know, the year the world was supposed to end). I was extremely bitter about angry and bitter people calling us at work and expressedd my feelings with my co-workers.  This lead my brilliant, yet still unattempted idea where I would create a 1-900 number (remember when they used to do those?) where bitter and angry people would call bitter phone representatives on the phone for a certain amount of money per minute.  They would be able to complain about their day to the rep, and of course the rep would be able to complain back to the phoner.  In the end, maybe something gets resovled or maybe something doesn’t.  I didn’t really care.  I just knew that I would be getting all the money from all the talking.  And if they did have a complaint, well, that would be a 1-900 number too.  So in the end, I win. This lead my co-workers to start calling me Bitter Ben and telling me I should start a blog.  They never thought I would do it, and of course, I had to prove them wrong.  So here you are reading some crap, because of a challenge someone put forth to me.

This is one our phone reps, Bitter Bob the Zombie.

This is one our phone reps, Bitter Bob the Zombie.

So, Bitter Cult Followers, both real bitter like me or not, let’s treat today’s post like it is my 1-900 line.  Comment me up and tell me what you are bitter about.  It can be anything from the smallest complaint to the bitterest rant,  First world problem or real one.  I will be your pretend therapist, or pretend friend or pretend 1-900-line guy.  Whatever. You will get whatever it is that you are bitter about off your chest, or brain or shoulders or whatever you carry heavy loads with.  If you have nothing, then you are lying or in complete denial.  The comment lines are open, call now and you will recieve a free bitter retort to your complaint or question.

And another, Bitter Bear.

And another, Bitter Bear.

If this is something people want to do on the reg, I will be able to sense it by your bitter enthusiasm, or bitter disinterest. If there is interest, then I might do it more.  If not, I will be bitter that I don’t have a regular post that is easy to do and get comments.  And I will be bitter at you all. My post fodder for me in the end anyway.

So let me start by saying that what I am bitter about today is what I mentioned above.  Summer was a bitter time and now I have a bitter fall to look forward to.

Give me your worst, bitter people!


Bitter Complaint Day Ben

Nap and Food Bitter Friday Giftures

I believe that some people are taking this long Labor Day weekend off a little early by taking Friday off (jerks) and of course, that makes me bitter. There are a lot of reasons why you should not take off early, but I can’t think of any.  This means I will be stewing in my bitterness, while you are out slazing(a slacking/lazy hybrid) out the day.  I know that you will probably be doing these things anyways, but it is much more fun to be trying to slack off at work, than at home where you are wasting precious hours off from work.  You know what I am talking about.  Friday is always about food and food on Friday is always pizza.


...I'm a pizza.

…I’m a pizza.


I declare April the winner…

...of whatever pageant this is.

…of whatever pageant this is.


Just a little test….

...to see how we will get along.

…to see how we will get along.



There’s nothing like a nap…

...where you get to dream about what you love.

…where you get to dream about what you love.


Looks like Beyonce…

...something Beyonce is good at.

…finally found her true calling.



After a pizza delivered by Beyonce….


….nothing is better than two naps.


When they deliver the food…


...it better be hot.

…it better be hot.


There’s not better way to take a nap…


…than in complete denial.



I’m so hangry…

...I could eat mah face.

…I could eat mah face.


I’m so tired…

....I could sleep through class.

….I could sleep through class.


How about we end the day…


…with a desertcap.


And a nice all day…

...a nice dirt nap.

dirt nap.


Until next time, Labor Day Early Leavers.  I hope your car breaks down, it rains on your parade, and your pizza and naps make you feel guilty, unlike how it will make me feel.






Hybrid Kid’s Crap for Sale!

Get ready, cause here I come, to dance on my couch.

Get ready, cause here I come, to dance on my couch.

Unless you know some kid that constantly watches Cartoon Network, Disney Channel, Sprout or Nickelodeon this post may not make sense.  Let’s just say you do know what Snuggies are thought, whether you want to admit it or not.  When they first came out, you laughed at them and said, “There is no way I’m going to ever get one of those things! They look so stupid! And by the way, there is no way I’m going to wear them to a sporting event outside!”.  But then things happened, it got colder, you didn’t want to wear your coat inside, and then when you went to your Christmas White Elephant party, you ended up with leopard print one, because no one else wanted it.  You got it out to laugh at it, and thought to yourself, “Hey, this is really warm…and so comfy.  I’ll just wear it tonight while no one else is home.  Things escalated quickly and now you are wearing your full length three piece Snuggie to work every day and you are campaigning to make it required wear to work for everyone in the office.

Well, these toys are nothing like that, but the quick escalation of the “toy” is similar.


Not a good pillow or pet.

Not a good pillow or pet.

Pillow Pets

If I am accurate in my research, the craze of really crappy hybrid bedding/pet craze all started back in the early 2012’s when Pillow Pets came out.  They are kind of a stuffed animal and kind of a pillow, but not really very good at either.  They come in different ugly pets shapes along with almost no amount of “stuffing” (cause I can’t think of a word to describe the stuff inside pillows) to be able to support anything other than a owls neck.  And owls don’t sleep on pillows.  If owls did sleep on this pillow though, they would complain that they could only swing their necks about 90 degrees when they woke up.

Look at me, I'm a really scared turtle with strings attached to my legs.  Helllp!

Look at me, I’m a really scared turtle with strings attached to my legs. Helllp!

Pillow Pet Backpacks

Unluckily for parents everywhere whose kids will want to buy everything they see on TV “because it is only $19.99″, the unbelievable new use came about for the Pillow Pets that weren’t abused in the regular line.  They got to be made into backpacks.  Cause regular backpacks are cool enough, we had to get the ultra-cool backpacks that wouldn’t embarrass us in front of our friends as much as the Snuggie did for the parents.  Difference is, these things have storage.  Lots and lots of storage. In just one of these things they can fit a paperclip, 2 pens, a piece of paper, an eraser, a crumpled up note from your crush saying “No, I will not be your girlfriend”, a note from your teacher with your fake parent’s signature, an apple and what is left of your popularity.  If that isn’t enough there is even a secret pocket that holds a little bit of leftover lint for those occasions that you need to fill your jeans with a little more that day.

The nite lite that doesn't provide any lite at nite.

The nite lite that doesn’t provide any lite at nite.

Pillow Pet Dreamlites

These are exactly like Pillow Pets except you don’t sleep on them, they have hard shells, and lights shoot out of their backs.  You know, just like in the real world.  You’ve been to the zoo when the turtles are doing the fireworks displays from their backs right? The best part of these phenomenal “Dreamlites” is that they allow your kids that are afraid of the dark to go to sleep so much later because they just can’t believe how much light is coming from the backs of these fantastic pets.  And if you are lucky they will get the Skunk Model that shoots light right from its tail.


Woody and Buzz never said anything about being a dirty laundry basket.

Woody and Buzz never said anything about being a dirty laundry basket. Help meee!


When the Pillow Pet market got as saturated as the Housewives of whatever county of Bravo Network, they had to start another line of crap with even less uses.  So some genius who hates parents came up with the ridiculous idea to make Stuffies.  They are stuffed animals (do kids really like these things?) that can be stuffed with even more useless things.  They hold things like train sets, used Coke(a Cola) bottles, fairy dust, the teeth they are leaving for the tooth fairy, and all the crap on their floor that they don’t want to clean up when they parents make them clean their rooms.  We used to call that a closet.

With such creative names such as monkey,

With such creative names such as Monkey, Dragon, and Unicorn.

Flashlight Friends- or should I call them Flashies?

I guess there are a lot of really wimpy kids out there that are afraid of the dark.  I don’t know if mine are afraid of the dark because they have active imaginations or because I keep telling them bedtime stories about robbers, thieves, ghosts, tornadoes, hurricanes, monsters under their beds and scary animals(non stuffy ones). Not sure why they are afraid of the dark or anything for that matter.

Because what says fun like fish.

Because what says fun like fish.

My Fun Fish

Just when you’ve had you fill (get it?) of fake stuffed animals with no uses, they came out with useless things for real animals, and by animals I mean fish.  This AMAZING FISH TANK allows you to put in the most rare and flushed brand of fish, the goldfish in a fish tank that is filtered by pouring water inside it.  What parents doesn’t want to keep a goldfish around forever.  Instead of teaching kids about how Goldie wanted to find adventure like Nemo and find his father in Australia, you can keep your wonderful friend around until the ripe old age of 6 days instead.  And who doesn’t want to teach their kids that taking care of pets is easy? Then, anytime you take them to the zoo, they will ask if they can get a pet monkey, cause all you have to do is pour water in their filter and they will live a long time.  YEAH!

Future FBI agent.

Future FBI agent.

My Spy Birdhouse

The neato little birdhouse that you can stick up on your window that shows the inside of the birdhouse.  You can view creepy little baby birds eating, sleeping…and uh eating and sleeping.  It comes with the added benefit of a darkened window so the birds don’t know you are watching them.  This is a great way to teach your junior stalkers the best way to become senior stalkers!  Darkened windows! Watch them while they sleep! Watch them when they eat!  Don’t wait until they are old enough to stalk people at the mall! Teach them while they are young!

Look how much fun mom is pretending to have...

Look how much fun mom is pretending to have…


For those kids that didn’t think the Pillow Pets or the Stuffies involved them enough, there is the new kind of creepy, Stretchkins.  These gems allow your kids to take animals and attach them to their legs and arms and stretch them just like as if they wearing the animals fur coats. Hello Clarice!

Look at me! I'm not creepy at at all!

Look at me! I’m not creepy at at all!

Janimals – And finally, the coup de gras of all kids living as animals, I present you the Janimals.  If your kid thinks in a past life they were a cat and feel that as a human they are just living a lie, there is the all encompassing Janimals.  Pajamas that not only cover your whole body, but your head as well.  If the people in this commercial didn’t just do this for the money and didn’t cover their face somehow, I believe they should just be fed Blue Buffalo Life Protection Adult Dog food, cause they are about 110% animal and minus -40% human.  I was never any good at math, but I think you can tell, these people went to the dogs.

I don’t have all day to tell about all the creepy crappy stuff there is out there for your kids, but instead of starting them on the gateway drug of Pillow Pets, I suggest you skip them to a three piece Snuggie so they grew up to be weirdos like us instead of what they could become with the Janimals.


Bitter Hybrid of Bitter and Weirdo Ben

The Keys to Bitter Miscommunication

See the weirdos I had to deal with?

See the weirdos I had to deal with?


This weekend, through some lucky circumstances (my daughter being a rockstar despite one half of her parents being a complete bittertastrophe), I got the chance to attend a Seattle Seahawks pre-season game, much to the chagrin of many people around me who are actual Seahawks fans.  They are the most popular ticket around town (even pre-season snoozefests sell out) because of reasons.  The capacity of the stadium is 67,000 people, meaning that I had to deal with 66,999 strange weirdo’s(my daughter being the only one that wasn’t) around me making noise, eating gross food, and spilling stuff on me while I was trying to watch a game that I was only mildly interested in watching (reason being: I wanted my acquaintances to be bitter with jealous rage).   I know for a fact that I am not going to ever talk to any of those people again and I’m glad.  Of course, I don’t talk to a majority of the 7 billion people on this planet, so that shouldn’t surprise you.  You know what else shouldn’t surprise you? That I have the keys to bitter miscommunication.

As an expert of miscommunication and bitterness, I shall tell you the keys, but only if you promise to use at least all of these with your next human encounter.


Whatever you do, don’t look them in the eyes.

In face to face contact, when speaking to someone, whether in a one to one, small group, or large group setting, always make sure to not make eye contact.  This may be a big step for you extroverts out there that have a compulsion to look people directly in the eye in order to let them know you care, but resist it.  Like you would resist looking at the sun.  If even imagining someone as the bright thing in the sky which the earth and the rest of the universe revolve around, try wearing a pair of prescription sunglasses (not your own prescription).  You won’t be able to see or focus and that will give you enough practice to eventually do without.  Plus, they give the other people you are talking to the impression that you aren’t looking at them.

This tip works in almost any kind of communication, whether it is talking, signing, non-verbal or even texting.  Make messages vague and unclear.  The goal here is to eventually cause the bitter, confused look.  Some people confuse easily and give up early.  Others it might take some time with.  With hard to confuse people mix things up.  Blend in emoji’s that don’t quite make sense or use a word or two from an obscure language that almost no one has ever heard of.  When someone asks a question, answer with a simple, “Mmhmm.” Misdirect as soon as someone thinks you are bluffing.  If needed, walk away while shaking your fists in the air or shaking your head furiously like they are the ones that are being vague and unclear.

Assume. Assume. Assume. Always make wild assumptions about any little word, head bob, eye wink, email, text or Facebook friend request.  For instance, if someone nods their head at you in the hallway at work, speak immediately to your HR department about harassment.  If someone gets something in their eye and is furiously blinking, be like, “I’m married.  And honestly, you’re not my type.  And also you have bad hair.” If someone sends you a Facebook request, respond immediately and be like, “I always knew you had a crush on me.  So chappel wedding next week then?”

Add the eye roll to your mumble for even better results.

Add the eye roll to your mumble for even better results.

Mumble.  All the time.  The best way to get people angry at you is to have a bad voice.  This method works especially well on a phone (cell phone with bad reception even more).  The person on the other end would rather run a 5K in bare feet over burning Lego’s than listen to a 5 minute conversation on a cell phone with a mumbler.  People will say, “What?” or “What was that?” two times, but after a third they will either pretend to hang up the phone, or pretend that they heard what you just said and try to move on the conversation to something that isn’t what you were just trying to say.  Then with indignation, you say, “Did you even hear a word I was just saying?” and they are forced to admit that they didn’t hear you, or lie and hope that whatever they think you said was somewhere near what you were saying.  Let’s just say that either conversation leads to a whole lotta awkward.

Make sure you give it the old 5 second or more delay.

Make sure you give it the old 5 second or more delay.

Delay tactics.  Nothing is more annoying than having to wait for an answer.  While people are used to having to wait for text messages and emails, or answers to comments on blogs, this method isn’t quite as effective.  But when it comes to talking either on the phone or face to face, this method can drive people crazy.  Don’t believe me? Try having a conversation with someone overseas where there is a 5 second delay.  It’s only 5 seconds, but that delay can drive a person as mad as a woodpecker without a beak. And it is priceless when it is face to face.  Just slow your conversational pace to a 3 second delay and you will get some looks of confusion that haven’t been seen on this planet before.

I'm always misspelling this one "on purpose".

I’m always misspelling this one “on purpose”.

In written communicashions, misspell wurds, put too many or two few punctuation marxs, ! use emojjji’s incorrectly (:)}+= etc, do whatever you have to do to make someone just not want wirite back 2 u.  In extreme cases, reference Kardashian, Beiber, or Cyrus.

Whenever possible, use passive aggressiveness.  It drives aggressives crazy and makes them want to confront you all the time.  Whenever they confront you, tell them that you need to go the bathroom and then see if you can schedule an appointment for next week.  This will allow them to react emotionally for the rest of the week and then forget all the rational thoughts they had.  As soon as they forget what they were mad at, continue this passive aggressive cycle.

Use all your non-verbal cues aggressively. Roll eyes, use words like pshssh, and shake head furiously whenever someone is making sense. Sigh loudly, walk by clomping your shoes as aggressively as you can, fold your arms tightly and maintain a good distance when talking to someone who likes to talk closer, and stand just slightly closer to someone that likes their space (FYI, this would drive me bitterly crazy if you were to do to me.) Also, make sure to interupt people as often as possible, especially if you notice that it throws them off.

Miscommunicating to 66,999 people is hard thing that very few people can do, that aren’t me.  But I hope that with some of these simple tips you can at least alienate your small office, your family or your friends.  The least you can do is start by completely misreading one of your bosses emails this morning.  Then, you might have to courage to miscommunicate with others.  Bitter Luck!


Bitter Miscommincatur Ben




Let Us(By Us I mean You) Get Some Exercise this Weekend Bitterness Giftures

I’ve been told by television that if you exercise and eat right for like a year, you will lose half your body weight.  Your life will “be transformed”, everyone will “fake” like you, and you will “find the person of your dreams” and you will get the “promotion you’ve been striving for”, you will get a book deal, and you might even learn how to use “quotation marks” correctly.  So since I have no desire to be liked, “fake” or otherwise, I already found the woman of my dreams, etc, I have decided that I will eat carrots for dinner, but only when dipped in ice cream.  I have also decided that I will exercise but only when the kids aren’t around and I need the remote, or a sandwich(dipped in ice cream, of course). If you decide that you want to exercise though, I will help you by yelling at you to “go faster” if you are ever jogging on my block.  I’m bitter that way.  If that isn’t enough, I will leave these despiring gifs right here for your demotivation.


The first day of exercise is like the first day of the week…

Yeah, Monday...

Yeah, Monday…


First, let’s get you an instructor…



Though he dresses a little strangely for workouts, he’s no joke.



Next, let’s find you some music…


…here we are. Singer in car…complete with her own back up singer.


Alright, now let’s do some light stretches…


Pass the ax to your partner.

…pass the ax to your partner….now the shovel…



Now let’s start with a little light cardio…

Alright now let's st

…just don’t strain your digits.


Now let’s do some spinning classes…



…just don’t tail behind everyone.


Now let’s start jumping…


...and don't be the class goat.

…but keep up, or you’ll be the class goat.


Alright now let’s do some high jumping….

or high slipping.

or high slipping.

Alright, now I’m gonna need a minute to compose myself…


...it's real.

…so I can exercise my jaw.


And now we will step it up…


…ummm there isn’t supposed to be a mat there…or a ball…or a spotter…REMOVE THEM!


Now let’s kick it up even further…


Come on maggots!!!You should be able to do this already!


 Alright that’s enough.  I’m getting winded just yelling at you.


I’m gonna go have my cool down meal….


Annnnd that’s enough exercise for me for the year.  Go do your own exercises, you lazy turds.  I’ve got some important staff meetings to go to.  And by staff I mean couch, and by meetings I mean naps.  And by go I mean pizza.

Later Suckers!


Bitter No Exerciser Ben



The scourge.

The Wiccups.

I went to lunch yesterday for my anniversary and must have had some bad combination of Chicken Alfredo, too much strawberry passion fruit limeade, and too little willpower to stop eating the unlimited breadsticks (I was just testing their limits), because when I left that place, I was sporting a nasty case of the hiccups (or as my kids used to call them wiccups).  Hiccups are funny to laugh at when they are happening to someone else, (Ha Ha you can’t complete a sentence without hiccuping!) but oh so bitter when they are happening to you.  The whole way home I was barely talking, because every time I tried to say something, I got interrupted by myself.  There is nothing more annoying than getting interrupted, but it is even more irritating when it is by the most bitter person you know.  What would be no big deal to a 6 year old or a 20 year old, becomes a big deal to a dude who can’t seem to take a walk outside without straining, or complaining or wincing about every small infliction happening in their 80 year old body.  So, of course, my throat was hurting, my chest was caving in and I was hiccuping all the way home. I had heard of a new method of curing hiccups, but it involved liquid.  As far as I know, restaurants haven’t started to send home take home juice boxes, so I couldn’t do anything until I got home.

When I got home I found the nearest cup and filled it with water and had my daughter pull my ears down.  It worked almost immediately.  Finally, my hiccups were gone.  But that was just the beginning of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bitter day.

Bitter Ben's Bad Day.

Bitter Ben’s Bad Day.


My stomach was bloated from the aforementioned endless breadsticks, so I laid down on our lovesack to relieve the bloat, only to realize that the remote control was like four inches beyond my reach.  Nope, not gonna do it.  There were no kids available to order around ask for assistance, so I had to watch whatever inane  thing was on the television.  It took every effort I could muster after battling my bitter rival, the Wiccups, to turn over on my stomach.  At that point I gave up and just took an unplanned 15 minute snoozer(about 3 3/4 hours shorter than I expected), and woke up with hope that either kids were around or the remote magically moved closer.  None of those things happened as I expected, so I sacrificed the rest of my energy to reach the extra 4 inches to get the remote.

I'm gonna just go ahead and lay down right here.

I’m gonna just go ahead and lay down right here.

Remote in hand, channel changed, I realized that it was about 70 degrees inside (2 degrees above comfortable for me), so I turned on the portable AC.  It was just about cool enough, but then it was too loud for me to hear the TV.  I began this endless cycle of having turn the TV up, only to turn the AC down, then have to turn the TV down, and then it would get too hot.  Add in the fact that commercials are even louder than the regular programs into the vicious TV/Air Conditioning/Commercial decibel level cycle and you can see why I was so exhausted.

...but could you do it a little quieter?

…but could you do it a little quieter?

After having to endure the cycle for 4 hours, I finally decided that I would get on my computer to check some really important junk mail I was meaning to get to as well as really important work stuff that I needed to get to (prep for my blog tomorrow).  Luckily, one of the kids was around, so I got them to deliver it to me.  I opened my junkmail email and went through them for a couple of hours, checking to see if that the African Prince that I gave my bank account number to had put the $10 million in my account yet(still waiting), then went to prep for my blog today, when the spinning wheel of death (Mac owners know what I’m talking about) came on.  It spun around for like 5 seconds and I just couldn’t take it any more.  I can’t stand when computers can’t take trillions of bits of information and produce instant results to me.  I just don’t have the patience for it, so I just threw my computer away. I know it’s only a year old, but I’ve thrown phones out for even less, so good riddance computer.

...and I'm out.

…and I’m out.

Then, I got a hangnail on my finger.  I can’t even…I just…I give up…I’ve never had a worse day…

I understand there is civil unrest, war, famine, global warming, and buckets of cold ice water that need to be dumped on celebrities heads, but how am I supposed to concentrate on all those important things, when I am having to deal with all these hiccups in my day?

How about all of you?  How do you deal with such bitter things?


Bitter Wiccups Ben

Raining on your Parade Gifs

It’s another Friday and I’m sure you all have some great expectations about what you are going to do this weekend.  Maybe you will go to the beach, see a new movie, or go camping.  Before you go and get all excited about your weekend and all your high expectations for it, let me go ahead and be the Rain to your Parade.  If you go to the beach, it will be too crowded and you will get a sunburn.  If you go the movies, the theater will be too crowded, the popcorn have bitter butter on it, and the movie will be so bad it wouldn’t have made it onto the Lifetime Network.  If you go camping, well you are crazy.  Why would anyone ever do that?  There will be lots of dirt, rain and lots of wolves that will eat your undercooked waffles.  You will lose your compass and get lost in the woods until 1 am Monday morning, in just enough time to make it work to be exhausted all day Monday since you are out of vacation and sick days. If you think you have more fun ideas for the weekend, feel free to call me and I will be glad to rain on your parade.  Like thus:


Think your favorite sports team is going to win?

Think again.

Think again.




Not anytime soon.

In an hour, or six.



Can I have the last piece of pizza?

Not gonna happen.

Not gonna happen.


Hey, don’t flip out…

...but you aren't graduating.

…but you aren’t graduating.



Let’s begin the weekend…


...flat on our faces.

…flat on our faces.


I know, let’s go waterskiing…


...or ruin your motorcycle.

…or ruin your motorcycling.



How about we just go toss around a ball…

...or use one to meet a wall.

…or use one to meet a wall.



Alright, we just made some cookies…

...did anyone bring some milk?

…did anyone bring some milk?


Should we go to the amusement park and ride the grown up rides…

...or take the hot dog express.

…or should we be weiners and stick with the kid rides?


Make sure you leap before you look….

...and realize you don't have your parachute.

…and always make sure you forget your parachute.


Before you make your move…


...make sure your first kiss is the best.

…make sure you eat some garlice and onions.




And most important of all, before you leave make sure you go to the ATM…



…and get some Bitter Benjamins.



Alright, your Friday has been ruined.  Just make sure when you come in on Monday you are bitter about your weekened and the cycle continues.  If you need help, you can always come to me for advice on how to ruin each and every day, not just your weekends.  You’re welcome.



Bitter Parade Rainer Ben


























10 Things Ready for a Bitter Break Up


Time for a bitter break up.

Time for a bitter break up.

A couple of days ago, I was watching the Bachelor’s Paradise. These are people that have been on the Bachelor and “didn’t win” in their particular cycle as if not getting engaged to the one girl or boy amongst all the contestants is losing.  What we all know is that in the end is that they all lose.  None of them actually get married, or become normal in the end.  They all become deceitful, bitter backstabbers.  In this even shorter version of the Bachelor, this show of Bachelor “losers” get together and “try to find true love” in a paradise situation that is lets face it, unrealistic. While that is enough to lead you to never want to watch this show ever, there is the painful, awkward and cringeworthy break ups.  That in itself makes you not want to look away.  Here is a list of 10 things that I need to have a bitter break up with.

1. Acne.  I’ve been together with acne since I was in seventh grade, when the picture of my face went from smooth as the Cloud Gate in Millennium Park to the constellations of Orion’s belt.  It’s been an abusive relationship.  One in which I used to try to tell it to go back to its home beneath the surface and it always popping up at just the wrong time to embarrass me or cause me pain.  Prom, family pictures that will last forever, job interviews…It even likes to cause me pain in other places besides the heart.  I’m 41 now, acne.  It’s time we parted ways.

How about some bitter news for once?

How about some bitter news for once?

2. The News.  If I needed to know the news about the rest of the world, I would just ask my annoying co-worker or go on twitter.  Besides, the news delivers only one side of the story.  Bad news.  Where is all the bitter news? You know how sometimes people give you an option of whether you want to hear the good news or the bad news first? Well, the “news” would just offer to tell you the bad news or the worse news first.  And by the way, isn’t news by definition supposed to be new? By the time you tell me, it is olds.  Maybe they should call it the “past”.

3. Rain. Rain, rain go away.  Don’t come back.  I don’t know if you know this rain, but I don’t need you anymore.  You have been replaced.  The time for your water cycle is over.  Clouds are being used for storing data now.  You’ve been replaced by bottled water, faucets and refrigerator filter dispensers.  And by the way, you haven’t exactly visited Phoenix in the last forever.  It’s kind of time you just go back to where you came from.

4. My Right Hip. Or is it my left?  Whichever one is shorter and keeps making me limp. If you can’t start growing (or making the other one shrink), I think it is time to break up with you.  Pack your bags, I’m sending you on a guilt trip.

5. Phones.   You are annoying, you are constantly ringing at me, you are always doing stupid impressions of stupid people that are just not funny, you are always changing your tone with me, and you like to wake me up in the middle of the night.  The only problem is how I should break up with you.  I don’t know if I should call you, text you, or email you.  Either way, I know you won’t get it, because you will pretend like you are in a “bad area”.

What friends?

My phone hates me.

6. 2014. It’s only been 8 months that we have spent together, but really, you’ve kind of been a jerk the whole time.  You are always “changing” around the end of the month, and it seems like you are just trying to make it to end of December so you can move on.

7.  Fire. I thought you were kind of hot at the beginning.  Actually really hot.  Your red orange glow, the way you just made me melt.  But lately, I feel like I’m just getting burned by you, over and over.  I think it’s time we just cool things down a little.  Because of the flesh being burned and everything.

8. Scissors.  At the beginning, you helped me cut through some of my issues(magazine issues) and I thought you were really sharp at the beginning.  But lately things have kind of been dull and I don’t see the point.  I just can’t handle you anymore.  You just aren’t the shear delight you used to be.  I’m just going to have to cut you out of my life. Etc. Etc.

9. Pictures. They never seem to stop talking.  Every time I turn around, they are saying like a thousand words.  They are never honest with me.  I see a sunset or a Supermoon in one way, and they see it in a much worse way.  It always seems like they are trying to blur things together.  They never seem clear about their intentions.  If they don’t start developing soon, I’m just going to have to delete them from my past.

Pictures are always saying thousands of words.

Pictures are always saying thousands of words.

10. Air.  Sometimes I just feel like their conversations are just full of themselves (hot air).  Other times when they are not around, I feel like I can’t breathe.  When it is around too much, I seem to hyperventilate.  I mean, is it okay if I just use my brown paper bag for lunch every once in a while?

I’m sorry you had to be here to witness all this, but I just couldn’t go on with all these things, knowing how they treat me.

How is that for some awkward, painful, cringe worthy break ups?  Anything you feel the need to break up with?


Bitter Break Up Ben

The Supermoon

What the experts "claim" the moon would look like.

What the experts “claimed” the moon would look like.

I spent most of the day Saturday out in the middle of nowhere Washington, at a family reunion.  It was at a Great Uncle or something’s house that had a sprawling 10-15 acres (I have no idea how big acres are.  Let’s just say it was a big yard.)  In the back, there was a wooded area where he put up a tarp, some tables, and we all brought food.  There was a slow cooker that was cooking up some meat and deserts were aplenty.  It was sunny out (miraculously it’s been like that for over a month here. Talk about global warming.) and I plunked down one of our camping chairs and ate some food until I was stuffed, then ate some more stuff until I was stuffed some more, then ate dessert, then some more dessert.  But what I did for most of the time I did what I do best. I was lazy, and complained bitterly.  I complained about how hot it was, and interupted others joyful stories of trips to South Korea, or school or how their summers were going to complain.  It was around 8:00 and it was time to leave.  I let the others clean up as I try to get away with most of the time, and we proceeded to find a way to swap our two kids that like to fight all the time, for one of our neices who is much older and doesn’t like to complain.  On our way home, I noticed the moon.  It was so close I could almost smell the processed cheese flavored scent coming from it.  I don’t know if it is because the US was the last one there, but it definitely smelled like American Cheese.

Jim Carrey did his best to pull it in.

Jim Carrey did his best to pull it in.

I made a comment about the size of the moon.  “If that isn’t a full moon, I don’t know what is.” I thought about taking a picture, but my phone camera is way inferior to my eye camera, because it doesn’t take near the pictures that my eyes do.  And we were moving.  It would have been out of focus or something, even though the mode I was in was Auto Focus.  I thought nothing of it, until that night when I was trying to watch something else and was interupted by the news.  It said something about a Super Moon, which I think means that Superman visited the moon that night and used his super breath to move it a little closer than normal.  Whatever the case, it finally got dark on Sunday, so we decided to take a stroll to see what the Super Moon looked like.


How the SuperMoon looked to me.

How the SuperMoon looked to me. Try not to look directly at it.

I guess what we needed to do was have Superman cut down all the trees in our neighborhood down, because the only view I could get of this “SuperMoon” was a little light cutting thorough the trees.  I’m no moon expert, but if a moon can’t cut through a few trees, I have a hard time thinking that it is anything but an ordinary moon. Especially when the day before, it was so close, it looked like it was going to land on our car.  So scientists and weather experts, don’t tell me that a something is a Super Moon, unless it is going to be spectacular.  It better do some flips, or shoot off fireworks, or at least cut some trees up in my neighborhood.  And it better be brighter than the sun, if it is going to be the Super Moon.


Bitter Moon Me Ben

The Bitter Daddy Long Legs

Why would anyone be afraid of this?

Why would anyone be afraid of this?

Shark week just started and for some reason people are fascinated.  Might be that they love Sharknado with all in terrifying special effects or the fact that they want to see someone get swallowed by a shark, or that the summer sun has finally gotten to them and they just can’t think straight anymore.  Sharks may be terrifying to some people, but there is an easy way to avoid them.  Swim in a pool or don’t swim in the ocean.  Pretty simple.  But what about spiders? They are way smaller, they have way tinier teeth and a simple movement of the shoe and the screaming dies.  Is it because spiders are smaller and can somehow make it inside the house? Is it because spiders, while much smaller than sharks can still kill a human with its venom? Not sure, but for some reason, if you ask a room full of people what they are afraid of at least one is going to mention spiders.  I don’t know about you, but if someone was willing to burn down their house just to get rid of a few spiders, there is definitely some irrational fear going on with the spiders.


That was a close one.

The black widow spider, the American House spider, the Brown Recluse Spider, they are all scary spiders that may frighten people.  But what about the Daddy Long Legs?  Talk about the spider that gets no respect.  Why when someone sees one of those are they not cowering in fear? What did the Daddy Long Legs ever do that was so non lethal that you aren’t running out of the house in fear?  Calling your local exterminator to kill them before you can ever take a shower again.  I swear the Daddy Long Legs get no respect.  They are the Dolphins of the Shark World.  The MC Hammer of the Rap World.  The Rodney Dangerfield of Comedy.  The Ben’s Bitter Blog of WordPress.

What did the Daddy Long Legs ever do to earn your disdain? Your lack of fright? Your non burning down the house of respect? You meh of terror? If I were a Daddy Long Legs, I would be pretty bitter that while all my brother spiders scare the living crap out of people, I walk around with my long lean legs, that stick out like a sore index finger telling the world, “Don’t fear me! I’m non poisonous! I walk slowly! I am so easily squished, but why would you even bother?”  There is also the fact that while other spiders are terrifying because they are mother like spiders protecting their children, I’m just the daddy, wearing the stained tank top, watching sports all day, and eating brats(not bratty kids, sicko, bratwursts).  I guess I can see why no one is afraid of the daddy long legs, but they are still bitter!

So, why are you not afraid of the Daddy Long Legs?  Why do they get so little respect?


Bitter Long Legged Ben