My Bitter Nightmare

The nightmare isn't the park, but the party.

The nightmare isn’t the park, but the party.


It’s that time of the year again.  The fake and real spiderwebs are out in force, fake and pumpkin guts are spilled all over and fake and real people are dressed up as fake and real ugly people.  This time of year is the time of nightmares.  As you can probably imagine, there are a number of things that give me nightmares.  Let’s just say I’ve woken up in the middle of the night more than once with the nightmarish sounds of eternally happy people singing.  Usually, I drink some soda and down a pizza or two and get some heartburn.  Then my usual scary serial killer, goblins and zombie dreams come back and I sleep soundly once again.

This weekend I came face to face with one of my real nightmares.  Some people think of this experience as pleasant by osmosis, as a young person gets joy out of turning a year older.  I call a kid’s birthday party a nightmare.  It all started when my son decided he wanted to choose two of his friends to have his birthday party with at Wild Waves, a local waterpark, turned Halloween themed Fright Fest.  We had to get there somehow, so I was trapped in a wheeled box with three seven year olds.  If you’ve never been in a car with 3 seven year olds, be prepared to hear the word poop and pee and high pitched screaming that can only be outsquealed by 7 year old girls.  It is a true test in not wanting to go postal and shoot up the whole car.  I was at my passive aggressive best when I finally decided to turn up the music.  I so badly didn’t want to hear another thing from them, that I turned up the Disney station so I could hear Bieber.  It wasn’t my shiniest moment ever, but when do I ever have a shiny moment?

The loud Bieber music didn’t stop them, so I kept switching stations to see if any of them would stop them incessant noise in my head (them).  Then, like a miracle from deep below, classical music.  It came with violins a stringing and trumpets ablaring as they created an enormous earworm that exorcized the demons for a short time, until we arrived at the amusement park.

Unfortunately, we arrived safely at the park.  It was cool outside and I hoped that it might get a lot colder, so cold that their lips would freeze shut, but alas, that was not to be.  None of the waterpark rides were open (come on, not even one frozen ride?) so we proceeded to ride the regular rides, my son wanting to ride with me on most of the early rides (shhhew, safe for now), but later, after the major roller coaster ride, decided to go with one of his buddies, meaning I had to ride with my arch nemesis, Neighbor Kid.  Much like Optimus Prime and Megatron, or Superman and Lex Luthor having to temporarily team up in order to save the world, I had to ride with one of his friends in order to save his birthday party.  It was a very tense situation where small talk was involved with a formidable foe.  I was just like Lex Luthor, except not smart, and without the maniacal laugh (or any laugh for that matter) and he was just like Superman, except for the strength, courage, or the red and blue tights.

They dragged me like a criminal from kiddy ride to kiddy ride, putting me in the prison of one tight fitting “safety bar” after another.  I had to keep running after them, pretending to care if one of them got lost, pretending to care if one of them got hurt, and pretending to care if they had fun or not.  Lightness faded to dark, and with that, the nightmare seems to almost be over.  I tell the kids it is time to go, because it is too late for the demons to be out until…they request ONE. MORE. RIDE.  NOOOOOOOOOOO!  Whatever it is, please not the Ferris Wheel.  Not the never ending Ferris Wheel.  “Can we do one more ride?  The Ferris Wheel?”

“Of course,” I say through my creepiest looking gritted teeth.  So we wait and wait, then get on and wait.  Then we get stuck at the top and the Superman that isn’t anything like Superman keeps asking my Lex questions.  It keeps talking to me.  I just want it to go away.  I plot my revenge.  What will I do? Push it off the top of the Ferris Wheel? Nope, too obvious.  We finally end the eternal nightmare of the never ending Ferris Wheel.

How does the nightmare end? I remember something.  They haven’t eaten since two hours ago at McDonalds.  And they were given some money by their parents.  Then it all comes together.  A bitter thought crosses my mind.  Yes.  This is how I will get my revenge. “Okay, let’s go to the Candy Shop. You guys can buy whatever you want, and then we need to leave. Just make sure you eat it before we get home.”

Just like a grandparent getting their revenge on their kids with their grandkids, I get them all sugared up, hyped up and then leave the little nightmares for their parents.


Bitter Revengerman Ben

The Long Lost Bitter Posts Volume 3

But when the server is down...everyone loses their mind.

But when the server is down…everyone loses their mind.

Of all the things I’ve lost over the years, my mind is the thing that I miss the least. The thing I miss the most is my internet connection.  How else am I supposed to post all my bitter thoughts across all kinds of internet platforms, if I only have two bars? Thinking about stuff is overrated.  I mean who wants to be so smart that they know so many words that no one understands the words they say? You tell me what is more interesting, a lawyer that speaks boring words like torts, adjudicatory hearing, and lawsuit (the suit you wear when you are a lawyer), or an entertainment reporter talking about who people are wearing and what restaurants they are stiffing tips on? The answer of course, is neither of them.  Both of those things require a mind.  But with an internet connection, you don’t need a mind.  You can post things on there and not have any thoughts rattling around in your brains (see this post or any others on this site).  Speaking of things that are lost, here was a post that was written without any thought at all; this week’s lost bitter post:



A picture of the Youtube video I couldn't post because I'm not smart.  Just imagine him saying inspirational stuff about football.

A picture of the Youtube video I couldn’t post because I’m not smart. Just imagine him saying inspirational stuff about football.

I have a favorite speech from a movie that always sends shivers of bitterness up my spine. It is from Any Given Sunday and it is a speech at halftime by Al Pacino to a group of football players that have been bitter with each other. Basically it is about how one tiny action(he uses inches, but I didn’t want to give you sickos any ideas) can make the difference between winning and losing and how we should fight and scratch and claw for every inch(okay fine, go for it). As we know, all halftime speeches apply to our lives and should make us want to fight(for things like the right to party.)

If my parents had just made me 1 inch taller, I could be living the life at the end of an NBA bench.

If my parents had just made me 1 inch taller, I could be living the life at the end of an NBA bench.

So what is a bitter person like me supposed to learn from this speech? Well, I learned that my whole life is about being this close ”(imagine each of those quote things as my fingers showing closeness) to acheiving my dreams. In fact, I was this close ” to being in the NBA. When I was born, I was like 8 pounds 8 ounces and I was 21 inches tall (I guess. It was a long time ago.) If I was 22 inches tall, I would have grown exponentially. If you extrapolate that data, that would have made me 8′ 11 tall and whether I was coordinated or not, I would have been given a permanent gig at the end of an NBA bench. I would have been able to play 3-4 minutes of garbage time every 3-4 games. I also would have been paid the NBA minimum of 300K and no one would ever notice me (except every time I got on the plane and bumped my head). So, of course I blame my parents for not making me quite as tall as they should have.

Also, I was this ” close to being smart. At one point in my childhood I was probably playing outside(do they do that anymore?) and I got hit in the head with a bat. It was probably my fault because I was swinging the bat, but before that, my brain was fully functional. If we again extrapolate the data(doesn’t that word make me sound smart?) I would have turned into a genius party planner and I would have been the envy of the party planning industry. Don’t hate the partier, hate the party. I would have been on magazine cover’s like Scientific America and Genius’ Quarterly and possibly be up for Genius of the Year. Instead of my name being Bitter Ben, I would go by Bitter Bash Throwing Ben. See how different my life would have been if my head was one inch to the left and instead the bat would have hit my foot? Okay so I would have been a famous party planner with a limp, but still, the dream life.

The high society magazine of truth derailed my acting career.

This high society magazine of truth derailed my acting career.

Here is example of how a fraction of a turn changed my life. One time I saw a movie. I thought it was cool and really liked that people got paid a lot of money to act in it. I wanted to be rich and be overshadowed by special effects in cool movies. Even though I wasn’t very good at memorizing things, I wanted to be an actor. Pretending to be someone else is easy, right? I could take classes about memorizing things and the craft of acting. I could practice getting out of a limo and walking on a red piece of carpet and answering the question, “Who are you wearing?” (Answer: This is my friend Powder Blue Tuxedo. What is your friends name?) Then I turned to the side slightly to the side and saw a magazine. It said “The National Enquirer” on the cover. After reading that Micheal J. Fox smoked pot with a 40 foot tall alien and that Keanu Reeves sleeps in an anti-matter chamber, I didn’t want to be an actor. Why did the Inquirer have to derail my dreams of being a bitter bad guy?
So what have we learned? That my parents should have made me taller, that avoiding bats to the head will make you a genius, and reading the National Enquirer prevents you from becoming a famously bitter bad guy. And also your dreams are crushed by inches(again you guys, really?). So change a person’s life by using that little pointy arrow and move it a few inches down to the like button and click on it. And maybe even type words(comment!).


Bitter Bash Throwing Ben?

Bitter Eye Roll Friday Giftures we go.

Annnddd…commence eyeroll.

A bitter Friday to you, Bitter Stalkers (suggested name of the Bitter Blog followers by Insanitybytes22) out there! Earlier this week I tweeted a tweet about Eye Rolling and my Eye Rolling expertise:

I knew even way back earlier in the week, that eye rolling was destined to be the subject of this week’s Friday Giftures.  It’s like the God’s of Bitterness came down from on high to prepare this post for me.  It’s like the Marty McFly came from 1985 in his time machine to me in 2014 this very week of October just to tell me this post was my density.  It’s like all the greatest video game heroes and villains gathered on Mt. Olympus and battled for the prize of picking the subject of this post.  So epic…so amazing…so…

Eye Roll extrordinaire

Full of Crap.

This post is none of those things.  It’s just another Friday of Giftures.  Just like last Friday.


Oh my gosh, so cute, it’s her first time on a train…

...that's not the way EyeRoll.

…whatever.  Eye roll. 


Watch the miracle… melon getting cut.  Eye roll.

...of melon getting cut. That’s not the only thing that should be cut. 


Wow, did you see the polar bear who could dribble a ball?

...Amazing. Eye roll.

…Guess what? I can dribble a ball too. Where’s my gif?


Look at this guy.  He is 7’8 and can dunk on a 10 foot hoop.


Well, guess what? I’m 41 years old and can take two steps without wheezing.  Have a candy bar, guy.


This guy can perform the amazing feat of walking on a tightrope 1000’s of feet above the ground…


…and falling.  Call Guinness, cuz so can I. 


Look at this famous girl dancing…


…horribly. Get me an agent.  I can dance horribly too. 


Look at this person maneuver through tight spaces.


I can do that too.  I was born once.


It’s a miracle that this guy survived traffic this morning.

...I battle traffic everyday.

Here’s a medal. I battle traffic everyday.


Oh, look.  You forged a ring out of a coin.


Well guess what? I put a ring on it once too.  What do you want a raging volcano to throw it into? That’s so preeeeccccciiiouus.


Oh, nice.  Two elephants dancing together…


I guess they are waiting for an invite to Dancing with the Pachyderms? 


Wow, what a face plant!

..could you do the weeding while you are down there?

Could you do some weeding while you’re down there?


And finally, watch these impressive people getting on a tall building and filming it with a pole…


…almost as impressive as me stepping on a Lego last night and my kid still being alive.


I’d like to spend all day recounting all my experiences with eye rolls, but then I wouldn’t get to do them in person and they are way more bitterly satisfying when you do them in person.  So I encourage you to get out there and experience so of your own bitter eye rolling experiences, not only today, but for the rest of the weekend.  Report any of your bitter eye roll inducing moments in the comments.


Bitter “This is the way Eye Roll” Ben

Language Barrier Bitterness and the Bitter Translator

I have no idea what you are talking about.

I have no idea what you are talking about.

There are like a thousand different languages being spoken every day.  In my office alone, there is English, Spanish, Japanese, Vietnamese, Korean, sarcasm, Texas drawl and the one I speak, Bitterness.  Those are just the ones that I can think of.  There is also the written languages that can be easily misinterpreted like email, texting, tweeting, Facebooking and LOLing(whatever that means). With so many rules, dialects and tones that come along with each of those languages as well as the the non-verbal language that I excel at, it is a miracle that we don’t misunderstand each other more.  Though some days, it seems like two dogs sniffing each other’s bitter ends understand each other more than humans do.  I watch the news and I don’t understand half the things they are talking about. I try to help my son do his first grade math and there is just a huge red question mark above my head.  He usually has to explain it to me.

On the other hand, I speak a language called Bitter, with the sarcastic undertones and with a passive aggressive dialect. Most people have no clue what I am saying.  I could use the right bitter tone, I could tell them I was kidding, I could even use the commonly known sarcastifont on an email and some people I know still wouldn’t get it.  As the leading expert in the language of Bitter with sarcastic undertones and passive aggressive dialect, I thought about doing one of those translation dictionaries (a Bitter-Rest of the World Dictionary) to help explain my very specific language to most of the rest of you, but I am of course, really lazy.  I have neither the time (laying on the couch takes a lot of my precious hours) nor the energy (again, most energy is devoted to not doing things).

I do have a moment to lay here and type up a few phrases that I use and how they should be translated correctly.


Before you, this was a Laughing Hyena.

When making small talk, I might say, “Wow that’s really funny! (Add in awkward chuckle.)”  Translation: “You are so unfunny, that laughing hyena’s had to be renamed Grumpy Cat.”

In a conversation I might say, “It’s really nice to meet you.”  Translation: “I hope we never talk again and the memory of meeting you is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mined from my mind.”

Exactly.  Your life isn't interesting.

Exactly. Your life isn’t interesting.

You might say “Hi.” to me and I would say back to you, “Hi.”  Translation: “You are the worst.  For saying that word to me, you have forced me to know say hi back to you.  I hope you get caught in a bathroom stall while the all three toilets are overflowing.”

You might say, “Wow, it’s really hot outside today, huh?” and I would say, “Yeah.”  Translation: “Are we really talking about the weather? I hope I faint and do a Rumpelstiltskin on you, because falling asleep for 20 years would be more interesting than talking about the weather with you.”

You might say,”How was your weekend?” I would say, “It was fine.”  Translation: “I spent all weekend doing my best to forget you in the hopes that you wouldn’t be here today and ask me how my weekend was.  Clearly, getting amnesia still wasn’t enough to get you to forget about me and here I am talking about my weekend with you.  Leave, now!”

Nope. Not one bit.

Nope. Not one bit.

You might say, “Hey, I know you are really busy, but could you help me with something really quick?” I say, “Actually, I was just headed to lunch. But when I get back, sure.”  Translation: “You better pray that you forget that you ever asked me to do anything for you ever.  After all I’ve already done for you (showed up to work), so help me if you remember that I said I would help you, I will get Voldemort himself to cast the Cruciatus Curse upon you until you never bother me again.”

You might say, “Hey, we’ll talk to you later!” and I would say, “Okay,”  Translation: “Nope. I will go full on James Bond meets John McClane meets Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to make sure we never talk again. I will spend 20 hours painting my self in cubicle colored camouflage just to hide from you.”

While there are many more phrases that you would have learned had I had any sort of ambition to make the Bitter-Rest of the World Dictionary, you guys just can’t pay me enough money to do one.  Translation: “This is a stick up! Get down on the ground and throw down all your passwords and bank account numbers, or your Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram account will be highjacked!”

Besides, I’ve always been about miscommunication, disharmony and discord, and translating all my words for you would create some sort of way for you weirdos to “come together for a common cause,” and we just can’t have that.


Bitter Translatador Ben

Writing Activity p. 25 blog summary


This blogger found and disected the Ben’s Bitter Blog for their class. Take a look to see what happened when they put bitterness in a blender and saw what came out.

Originally posted on My Class Blog :

Ben’s Bitter Blog

Before this class I never blogged or ever cared, that is until I stumbled upon a Ben’s Bitter Blog. The title caught my attention being different from the typical dull blogger. Reading into his posts I soon followed. The blog while being bitter in a sense, is intentional to make people laugh. Each post is bound to make the reader chuckle in some way.

Take a moment and read into a few posts if you’d like, maybe even follow it if it’s your style of humor. The key when reading is understanding sarcasm. For example…

“I hear Halloween is coming up.  Not sure how since Halloween stores have only been open since early August, and Halloween themed candy has only been on sale since July.  I love how the holidays recently have taken a step back to give us a little relief to do other things like mock the…

View original 163 more words

How to avoid becoming a bitter non-workaholic


A non-workaholics job is always done.

Welcome to the first bi-annual, monthly weekly conference for Bitter Workaholics Anonymous.  I am your keynote speaker, Bitter Ben, and I am a non-recovering non-workaholic. I do my best at work to only focus on the things that are most important at work.  Blogging, browsing of the internet, games, texting and catching up on my personal life.  If those kinds of things can’t be done at work, I don’t know what can. Let me just tell you how much talking and thinking and doing actual work at your place of employ can be a real strain on your life.  There has been a rise of late in the workplace of people doing actual work in the workplace and as a non-workaholic, I find that is disturbing trend.  We need to stop this problem before people become too involved with work requirements and “job satisfaction”.  We cannot allow people to come to work ready to go.  We must have workers that are less prepared.

Here's my Power Point presentation.

Here’s my Power Point presentation.


My co-workers have learned a lot from me. For instance, they are becoming way more efficient at calling in for sick days, showing up late, making personal calls, taking long lunches and bathroom breaks, and in general, are really good at avoiding the loud ringing on their work phones.  When they do answer it though, they have learned with passive aggressive glee how to answer the phone with a bitter tone.

A non-workaholics job is always done.  We must be hyper non-vigilant and never aware of things we can do to make our days and the days of others less productive. You may be a chill non-workaholic like me, but you haven’t achieved the highest status of chill, until you are making all the people around you so miserable in their work that they just can’t take it anymore.  Here are some things you can do to help you or your co-workers overcome their workaholism.

1. You must be in complete nial(opposite of denial) of your condition as a non-workaholic. If you know you are a non-workaholic, then you are trying a little too hard to understand your condition, or you are too far into your google searching at work.  Take a step back and start at the beginning.  If you get desperate, Google cat videos and go from there.

Never spend lunch with these yahoos.

Never spend lunch with these yahoos.

2. Lunch time is a sanctuary from all the non-work you have been doing.  Take a step away from your desk and go somewhere to get some fresh air.  Get away from computer, and the constantly ringing phone you are avoiding and possibly use it as an excuse to go home for the day.

3. Have a hobby at work. If you are a blogger, don’t ever do any blogging at home.  Save all your drafting, posting, publishing, reader, commenting and liking for worktime hours.  Reader is a really good way to kill time when all of your other favorite sites have been exhausted.

It looks like work, but it is just fake typing. Yeah!

It looks like work, but it is just fake typing. Yeah!

4. Vacation planning.  The best place for vacation planning is at work.  Whenever you get work, start off by looking at the exact amount of hours you have for vacation. Check the calendar for available days.  Peruse the travel sites for the worst deals on time shares, book the most dangerous planes, find the most non-refundable and highest priced rates.  Go somewhere that no one would ever expect.  Minot, ND or Yukon Territories for Christmas, Phoenix, AZ or the Gobi desert for your summer fun.

5. Personal calls.  Make sure your family, friends and even distant relatives know your work number and the times at work that you are the busiest.  That is the time for them to call.  When on calls make sure you focus on the most innane subjects.  Talk about your kids messiness, talk in great detail about your worst vacation experiences, and most important talk about how boring work is and how they are just working you to the bone.  Make sure to project your voice when doing so, so all in the vicinity can be bitter, jealous and angry that you are avoiding all those work calls you should be taking.

6. Learn to say no.  The higher up in the company you can go with that the better.  Make sure you tell your boss no on a regular basis.  You may have had to work 6 hours for 3 days in a row, and your boss might come by to ask when you will be making that up.  Just say no.  “I think I’ll pass this week. I’m just not feeling it.”

7. Make sure you are macromanaging your job.  Talk in terms of “future” and “long term” and not today, but definitely in the next year or so.  Make sure you broaden your goals to extend things out as long as you can.

8. Constantly overbook.  Your kids dentist appointments should be at just the right time of day that you need to leave for the day.  Noon is too early, and might coincide with lunch.  Try 2:00 pm.  Early enough in the day where you have a way short day, but late enough where “there is no possible way I can make it back on time.”

9. Computer problems.  If you have a virus at home that you can send on to the old work computer, do it.  You might not be able to go about your usual google searching for the day, but it will cause you to “not be able to work” and a chance to leave your desk for important things like “Let’s Make a Deal” in the break room.

10. Have a smart phone at work.  This provides you with endless excuses to rush out of your cubicle at a moment’s notice, while looking like you are doing something important. You got an “important text” that you need to take.  It might look like a family crisis, when it is really an updated requested for Subway Surfer.

As an expert at non-workaholism, I urge you to look at your workday.  Where can you make simple changes in your day to avoid work more effectively? How can you cause your co-workers more pain? How can you drive down productivity in your office?  There are some simple hints, but there are so many more things you can do.  I want you to look around and think about what you can do to really make a change towards not changing, not doing, not moving forward.

What are some things you can think of to be less productive? Let me know in the comments of things I can avoid doing.


Bitterly Unproductive Ben


The Lost Bitter Posts Volume 2

...but there is no way I'm asking for directions.

…but there is no way I’m asking for directions.

Because I am a bitter man and a stubborn person, I would much more prefer to get lost on my way somewhere than to ever ask someone for instructions.  I have wandered the streets of downtown Seattle aimlessly for hours, got lost in the mountains overnight and even got lost on my way from the TV room to the kitchen.  Maybe there is no excuse for me to get lost in the mountains overnight, but the others ones…totally acceptable.  There is never a reason to ask someone else for directions.  How many times did someone force me to ask for directions and I got more lost than I originally was?  I’d rather trust my really bad gut instinct than trust even the most trustworthy, mapmaker or professional gas station direction giver, because I know that if I got lost, then I got lost on my own terms.  Point being, I’ve completely lost all of you, so let’s just get to the lost post of this week.

I actually completed this post, but it was for a guest post long ago for someone and it never got published on this site.  It’s been a long time since I wrote this one, and I’m not rereading it because I’m lazy.  So it is probably a jumbled mess just like my other posts.  Regardless, read below…if you dare.  Cue Agent Smith laughing gif…MUHAHAHAHAHAH!





Million Dollar Room Bitterness

Not just million dollar houses, Million Dollar rooms.

Not just million dollar houses, Million Dollar rooms.

Let me just tell you a little about me. I am what a PC (politically correct, not personal computer) type person would call economically challenged. However, if you are like me and are okay with just calling something like it is, you can just call me not rich. As one of the 99% of this country, I enjoy some of the less fine things in life. While I do have a house, and a car, and a television, some of the most important things that I am in need of have slipped carefully through my fingers. I don’t ask for much really. Just a room that has insulation or a heat source and a toilet that flushes every time.

HGTV, TLC, Garden Television.  They are all the same.  It was one of these.

HGTV, TLC, Garden Television. They are all the same. It was one of these.

That is why, when I discovered a show on TLC (or one of those home remodel or improvement channels) called Million Dollar Rooms, I felt like I could relate. These people struggled just like me when building these innovative rooms. For example, one of them was talking about how they had to struggle to find a rare type of mosaic tile that was only found in a Mongolian mountain top. Though they didn’t have to climb the mountain, it was an uphill struggle to call their assistant to call their general contractor to call the store in Mongolia to have a person climb the mountain. Then there was the wait of approximately 3-4 days for them to ship that over to their home. I mean if this guy can wait for that excruciating amount of time to get the mosaic tile from Mongolia that will line his 40 foot ceiling I can, then surely I wait a couple of months to have my ceiling to be scraped of my absbestos laced popcorn. What a shining example (like the shiny abestos all over our house) to us all.

Not the rare tile of Mongolia.  But close enough example of the lengths that people will go to fill that empty space on their ceilings and thus filling their hearts.

Not the rare tile of Mongolia. But close enough example of the lengths that people will go to fill that empty space on their ceilings and thus filling their hearts.

There was another go getter who had a garage problem. He only had a 50,000 square foot home, but he wanted a place to store his collection of 100+ vintage cars that were worth $100 grand or more. This guy didn’t mope around the house and wait for something to happen. He got to work using his good old fashioned brain and came up with the idea of calling someone. He thought outside the box and decided that he would have someone create a cave, much like Batman, where he could store his cars underground! What innovative thinking! He didn’t stop there though. He made sure that there was a hydrolic lift that acted like an elevator for his cars. Here I was thinking he would have to park them outside and risk exposing them to an element (a ray of sun or a drop of rain), but no. This guy simply refused to allow his cars to be treated that way. If someone was going to cover him with an umbrella when it rained, he was going to make sure his cars would be treated the same.

A garage for those that don't have enough space to store their cars in their living rooms.

A garage for those that don’t have enough space to store their vintage car collections in their living rooms.

Finally there was a third person, struggling to survive on only $300 million per year. He had a large family of four that were dying …of boredom. They had struggled long enough eating out in 5 star restaurants and staying in the painfully low end of the luxury 5 star hotels, which affored them only the most boring of luxury pools. The man couldn’t look at the apethy in his children’s eyes anymore. So he explained how his children would not have to go to the ends of the earth to find the most luxirous pool. He would not only build the world’s largest pool, but he would build his kids an ocean. He faced scathing criticism from his fellow 1%ers about how his ocean was not even half the size of the Pacific Ocean like most of theirs were, but he proceeded against all odds to build an ocean that not only his kids and wife would be proud of, but his father too. It was the internal need to please his father that gave him the strength to include in his ocean not only animals of all kind, but to make sure that it was salt free, so when his kids surfed they would have to taste the nasty salty taste. His kids would suffer not suffer in mere pools anymore. They would have their own ocean.

Though this looks eirily like the Pacific Ocean near Hawaii, it is just a man made ocean by a guy with a please his kids and his father.

Though this looks eerily like the Pacific Ocean near Hawaii, it is actually just a man made ocean by a guy with a dream…to please his kids and his father.

I want to say that I am pretty bitter about myself because I have not suffered like these people for their homes and their dreams. Perhaps one day, when I want my home to be better badly enough, I will fight like these people did for their dream homes. In the meantime, I will just deal with my drafty windows letting in the cold air.


Bitter Ben

Messy Freaking Friday Giftures

Let Friday Slideday commence.

Don’t bless this mess.

My desk is a mess, my car is a mess, my clothes are a mess.  Even Pigpen thinks I’m a mess.  Life is messy that is for sure, but none more than mine.  In fact, my hair is so tired of the mess my brain is, that the sides spike out just so they won’t have to be near my brain.  I do my worst to keep a messy desk at work, because I’m too lazy to clean.  But the biggest mess is my life.  For more messes than you can possibly imagine, see below.


When it comes to buying jewelry don’t have too high of expectations… might get your hand stuck or some other big mess.

…it can mess with your head.


When biking…

don't mess with physics or big plastic bubbles.

don’t mess with physics or big plastic bubbles.


Hold onto your drinks people…

...cause traffic is a mess today.

…cause traffic is a mess today.


It’s almost Halloween… should learn to never mess with Reapers.

…so be prepared to mess with the Reaper.


I have a feeling…

...this mad cow is going to leave a mess.

…this mad cow is going to leave a mess.


I guess…

...he needs more iron.

…this guy needs more iron.


 This guy is a multitasker…

...he both messed with this guy, then clean up a mess.

…he both messed with this guy, then cleaned up a mess.



This train stop…


…may just have messed with this guy’s dream…and spinal cord.


You learn from the best…

...on how to make a mess.

…on how to make a mess.


This is what you get…

...for messing up your bed.

…for messing up your bed.


When playing dodgeball…

...don't mess with this guy.

…make the first pick, or be prepared to mess with this guy.


Alright, I’m done messing with all this…

...I'm gonna bounce.

…I’m gonna bounce.



Bitter Messed Up Ben





Bitter Retirement


My retirement facility, Bitter Lake.

My retirement facility, Bitter Lake.

I know I look pretty old for a 41 year old, but that’s because I’m really only 6.  I have lived a hard life of eating food, laying on the couch and pretending to type things at work to make them think I’m working. Ever since I was young, I’ve always wanted to be older.  I’m not just talking 20, I mean 90.  I’m talking beyond the golden years and straight to the Gandalf the White haired years.  Who wants to go through all the pain of learning how to eat, and crawl, then walk, then run, then jump, then talk, then go to school and do well just so you can graduate from high school, just so you can go to college, just so you can go to a job for 40 years so you can finally be too old for work and retire?  Besides, when I was young, I figured they would have passed me right through, because I was a superhero that saved the world at least seven times.  Here are the many reasons why I want skip the young and middle ages and go straight to old and retired.

I want my 401K, pension, social security, my inheritance and my golden parachute just so I can blow them on all kinds of stupid things like jet planes I will crash, cars I will fall asleep at the wheel of and mansions I will forget the keys for, then get lost in.  You only get old once.

Out for my morning shuffle.

Out for my morning shuffle.

I want to be able to shuffle around in my slippers and pajamas all day, with crazy hair, and a lost blank expression on my face.

I want to finally figure out the mysteries of shuffleboard, backgammon and lawn bowling.

I want to sit on a porch being  crotchedy, bitter and old.  I want to be ignored by the neighborhood kids when I yell at them to “get off my lawn” even thought the lawn is dead yellow stalks of wheat that haven’t been cut in years.  I want the neighborhood kids to have a challenge to go by “Old Man Bitter Ben’s” yard and escape without getting yelled at.  I want to be the house that no kid ever wants to Trick or Treat at because his house is scarier in the day than most people’s at night.  And I want to be the one that they talked about because “once he put a razor blade in some kids candy”.

I'll stare.  I don't care.

I’ll stare. I don’t care.

I want to apply for a job as a greeter at Walmart. I want to pretend to be the friendliest guy ever when they hire me, then as soon as I start, mumble passive aggressive insults to customers as they enter, just enough to where they know they heard me say it, but not enough to prove it.  I want everyone that goes into Walmart to feel uncomfortable, bitter, upset and crankier when they leave than when they got there.  Then, just when they open the doors for Black Friday, walk off the job, never to return, never even to pick up my paycheck.

I want to live in a retirement facility where people have to take care of me.  I will constantly be buzzing the nurses, asking for more outrageous things than a celebrity rider and demand they be done quickly.  Then when they arrive at my house to give me my demanded items, fall asleep for hours.

Hanging out in the mall.

Going mall walking. 

I want to wear a hearing aid so visitors think I can’t hear them, so I make them repeat things louder and louder, then fall asleep and make them think they can leave, then wake up and repeat to them all the bitter things they were saying about me when they thought I was asleep.

I want to make my grandkids listen to my boring stories about life “before the Ipad and the time machine and flying cars” and how we only had laptop computers and the internet.

I want to have a cabinet full of legal prescription drugs that many would be envious of, but would never be able to take from me.

I want to make up words and convince people that they are real and they should start using “proper words in their correct context”.

I want to be able to ride the scooters at grocery stores, then pretend that I’m playing bumper cars with other grocery store patrons.  Whoops…

I want to be able to go to a movie and only pay $11.75 with my senior discount and rub it in the face of people that had to pay $20.

I want to sit in an outdoor tub, but alone and not with someone else.

I want to chosen to become a model for the cover of AARP, then become unreasonable and force them to get a bitter old man picture.

And most of all…..aslkfj;laskjdfalksfdjasf

Sorry I fell asleep. Did I miss Jeopardy?


Bitter Old Man Ben

The Bitter Truth about My Stats

I hate to burst your bubble, but sometimes stats lie.

I hate to burst your bubble, but sometimes stats lie.

I bid you a bitter welcome, Bittertarians. Or Bittermaliens. Or Bitter people? I’m not sure what to call you, but you bitter come up with something, because it makes me bitter not knowing what to call you.  I’m putting on my Professor Bitter Ben hat so I can be your boring lecturereer for the today.  Let’s talk some statistics.  I know. I dread them so much that when I was in COLLEGE (Yes I went to college.  They were happy to take my money.), I took a stats class by one of the biggest jerks in our entire school, maybe even the world (I don’t remember if he was in the World’s Biggest Jerk finals with me, cause I’m a jerk and didn’t acknowledge any of the other jerks there.) and ended up getting a 10% FOR THE ENTIRE CLASS.  He gave us 11% just to fill out our names on the test, so I probably even spelled my name wrong, but that is besides the point.  What I am trying to say is I don’t like stats.  How they work, how they relate to me at all, whatsoever, how they are added together, nothing.  I see the stats on my Page and while some of them are impressive, mostly they don’t mean much.  Let me give you a fer instance.

At this moment in time it tells me I have 5103 BLOG followers (meaning WordPressians) and I have 5,600 total followers (which include my Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc.).  You might look at that many that I have and feel envious, and you should be. But I’ve worked hard to obtain this many followers, including bribery (my parents and family) shaming people, guilting people, blackmailing people and pretending to like people. And I’ve also written over 400 posts. I don’t know if you know this, but I have barely ever even done anything in my life 400 times. Brush my teeth? Maybe. I’ve been a fan of the San Antonio Spurs for over 26 years and I don’t think I’ve watched 400 games in that many years.  Work? I’ve probably been to work 400 times, but I doubt I’ve actually worked that many hours total AT work.

When my Bitter Lecturer starts talking to me about stats and loyalty.

When my Bitter Lecturer starts talking to me about how he “only” has 5000 followers.

So here is what makes me bitter about ONLY 5000 followers. Do you have any idea how little percentage of the entire world 5000 is? .0000007142857%. If you figure there are 7 billion people on planet earth, not only am I not getting a passing grade, I’m not even getting an Z-, which means I’m way worse at blogging then I was on that statistics class. See how bitter it makes me that there are only 5000 of you?

Bitter Ben Merch? Where do I get some of that?

Bitter Ben Merch? Where do I get some of that?

And of those 5000+ none of you are loyal.  Alright some of you may claim you are, but you aren’t.  Sure you may read every post from the time you started following me, but have you read all my posts? I’m not statistician, but it didn’t take me long to figure that not one of you have read all 400 posts.  Not my mom, not my wife, not my kids, and not one of you.  I haven’t even read them all, as you can tell by the all the mistakes in editing.  And that’s just reading the posts.  Have you purchased any of my bitter blog T-shirts? Went to any Bitter Ben restaurants? Bought the books, or read the magazine, or seen the TV show or the YouTube channels or watched The Bitter Entertainment Network, or bought any Ben’s Bitter Chocolate Bars, or bought my album on Itunes, or stock in BBB Incorporated? Have you stalked me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or at my house yet? Have you started a Bitter Ben Fanclub? I barely less annoying than Justin Beiber and he has millions of followers on all those things. If you’re not even one of those things,  how can I consider you a loyal follower?

Don’t go hitting unsubscribe either, because you may not be a loyal follower, but I am an incredibly great stalker.  I know where all of your blogs live.  If you even think about it, I will leave a positive comment on your blog that will destroy your blog’s credibility, because everyone knows, you don’t want nice comments from me. In fact, in my mind, I just saw someone think about it, and their blog was shut down, their Facebook was cancelled by Zuckerberg himself, and their Twitter has become a ghost as we speak.

I hate when people wake me up when I'm trying to sleep while driving.

I hate when people wake me up when I’m trying to sleep while driving.

I see that I just passed 20,000 comments, which is a very poor showing by you guys, especially considering that I did half those.  And your views of ONLY 73,000+, a joke.  I have viewed 70,000 just this morning, though I have to admit most of those 70,000 things were the back of my eyelids and the red and blue lights of the cops behind me while I was driving while viewing the back of my eyelids.  Some cops are so picky about the awareness of people while driving.  I swear, some cops.  At this point, I am disgusted by how few of you listening to my lecture.  Just go back to sleep, you slackers.  I’ve got work to avoid and I don’t have time to babysit you anymore.


Bitter Bad Statistician Ben

The Lost Bitter Blog Posts Volume 1

The Lost Bitter Posts

The Lost Bitter Posts

I’ve been doing this blogging thing for over 2 1/2 years years now, and pretty regularly I might add.  When there are so many things I have to be bitter about, there has always been a wealth of subjects to choose from.  You’ve probably read a few posts and cringed thinking “Is it even possible for this guy to write any worse about a subject?” and you would be spot on.  I can tell you for a fact that there were some days when I could barely spit out enough words to express how bitter I was.  Those days were the most bitter for me.  Especially when I started a subject that I knew was super bitter, but started it and had no clue where the heck it was going. I abandoned these poor posts into the Lost World called drafts. If this blog was a BluRay, these would be the deleted scenes, or more appropriately the bloopers.  If this blog was a Time Machine, these would be the Dolorean without the flux capacitor.

At this moment, there are 142 Lost Posts(and that is just the ones that are here on WordPress.  I have dozens more notes in my phone taking up space.) that have never seen the light of day, and may never.  But I was thinking that every once in a while I will let a post out, and you can take a look at one that started with some bitterness and fizzled out or just never had any business being a post.  You can thrash it, scoff at it, make fun of its grammar and spelling, or give me hints on how I might revive it.  Or just ignore it, like I should have in the first place.  So, with all that ado, I present you my First Lost Bitter Post.



This one was started back on April 18, 2013 (were any of your blogs even born then?) and I called it Monument of Bitterness.

Nice faces

Stone cold killers.

When I was growing up, I lived right near one of the most famous national monuments in the world. By close I mean 372 miles away according to google, so of course I went at least once every 15 years. Since I lived in South Dakota for 15 years, I did manage to go once. As fun as it is to stare at some people’s granite faces for an hour, it wasn’t. If I wanted to do that, I would stare at Congress, which I refuse to do. I was more interested in the nearby town called Hot Springs, that surprisingly had a natural hot spring. They built an indoor waterslide park that had rocks on the bottom of the pool. And the water was warm (also a shocker).

I don’t know if it just the condescending look of these guys faces, but they make me bitter. It’s like they actually got together in a famous presidents conference and told someone that a they needed to go to the middle of America at a future date, where there was nothing else and find a mountain and carve granite images of them. Like we are supposed to be impressed with some guys that did speeches on taxes or signed some bill on health care? Where is the mountain for bitterness?

Though these guys seem bitter by the looks on their faces, deep down inside they were probably happy people that enjoyed their lives.

mountain needed sure the people on the mountain are famous for some reason. Maybe they passed a bill on health care or made a rousing speech about taxes. Sure they should be applauded for that. I’m just very bitter about it not being updated in about 100 years or something like that. I think it is time we updated this monument. How about instead of four faces of presidents in granite, we build a monutment to bitterness. If we can’t find more than


And then it ended there.  So, what do you think? Revive it, send it to the trash, ignore it?


Bitter “The Lost Blog Posts” Ben

Crashing into Friday Giftures

Did this week feel like a train wreck in progress to everyone else like it did to me? I don’t know if you remember all the way back to Monday, but it was a whole month ago (September) and that is a busy month for my job.  It required me to sit at my desk and develop a bad back and sore neck while doing labor intensive things like typing really hard and mouse clicking the crap out of things.  Then just like a lull in a roller coaster it ended and October began and with it brought a whole wave of new emotions.  Like terror, as seen by the tweet I tweeted at the end of the day September 30th.

The transition of September to October was as jarring as the transitions in this post. Just like this weeks Gifs.

This guy…

...was a Wedding Crasher.

…was a Wedding Crasher.


Traffic today…

...was like watching a car crash.

…was like watching a car crash.


This guy…

...didn't pay attention to the signs.

…didn’t pay attention to the signs.


There was definitely…

...definitely some BS going on this week.

…some BS going on this week.


People were…

...acting like big babies.

…acting like big babies.


Some people were helpful…


…at reshaping other people’s bumpers.


While others…

...moving some chairs.

…offered to help move chairs. 


Still others….

...offered to help test the new water slide in its mission to launch the first people into space.

…offered to help test the new water slide in its mission to launch the first people into space.


Some people had a bit of a reaction…

...when the computers crashed.

…when the computers crashed.



...when the shark attacked.

…when the sharks attacked.



...when the stock market crashed.

…when the stock market crashed.


But the worst of all…

...was when someone had their after lunch crash.

…was when someone had their after lunch crash.


So this weekend, make sure you stay confused, stay unfocused and stay non mentally prepared for all the changes.  You should probably go to MAACO because they can repair all kinds of crashes, and disasters, like the crash that is your life.


Bitter Crashed Ben

If I ruled the world…it would be a Bitter Place

If I ruled the World...

If I ruled the World…

I was reading the post of a fellow blogger, Alanna, a couple of weeks ago and she wrote a short post about what she would do if she ruled the world. Of course, I thought it was a great idea for a post so I am stealing it because I don’t have any original thought. I thought it was appropriate to take over the world as it is kind of a bitter place, but not bitter enough. This isn’t a comprehensive list, because I’m not that organized, but things will be added later.  For now, here are the things I will implement right away.



First things first.  My face will be the international symbol of run.  Caution, danger, run for the hills.  If there is a disaster waiting to happen or has happened, post the international symbol of bitterness.

The cloud will be a place where I store all my bitter thoughts until it gets so full, it will rain down bitterness enough to cover the whole earth.

Phones would be banned as a form of communication.  You can carry around a smart computer that does everything else, but there will be no phones.  Text, speak face to face, Skype, or Facetime, or invent something else that takes the place of phones, but they are banned forever in the Bitter World.

You can be rich and famous, but if you are a jerk about it, I will send you to be with other jerks to Rich People jail in the bottom of Antarctica,  where Wi-fi doesn’t work and your money is no good.

Job interviews and layoffs are a thing of the past.  If you know what you want to do and you can explain it to someone in clear manner and you and the employer agree that you would be a good fit, fine.  But if you are an introvert and you can’t stand to talk to people about what you are good at, you are allowed to get a brain scan that will show all the employers what you are good at, and they will be able to come find you.  No scraping for jobs if you want one.  You can work from home if you want, or get a bonus to work at the office.

He's definitely got the bitter look down.

That’s the exact bitter look I am looking for.

This one is for me. My weak pathetic limbs like my knees, shoulders, feet and hips are to be replaced by far superior robotic technology.  That way if I am sore, instead of taking 2 Aleve’s, I just get some Wd-40 and I’m good.  I want to be able run, jump, and dunk at the age of 85.

One language for goodness sake.  The dictionary will not have all these freaky unnecessary words that no one uses.  Just like the clothes in our closets, if no one has used a word in over a year, it’s gone from the bitter dictionary.  And if we find a cool combo word that makes sense, like snarcasm, add it to the mix.  But if it becomes so tired that they are starting to name shows after it, like Selfie, or no one knows what it really means even after consulting the Urban Dictionary, it’s out.  If you don’t like it, you can go to helfie.

You are born with one of these.

You are born with one of these.

Everyone is born with BS meters.  When they get full for the occasion (work, party, watching football commentators) you are free to leave the conversation immediately and without question, or stay in it for entertainment value.  For goodness sake, you should only have to take so much crap.

Fame won’t be determined by how well you dribble, throw, or hit a ball.  It won’t be determined how well you screw up laws in a country or how well you perform in front of a camera.  It won’t be about how rich you are, but how good you are at grinding out a 9-5 for 50 years, or how you stay in marriage for 50 years, or how good you are at showing up when you say you will be there.  Cameras will be outside capturing a guy that worked for an entire year without getting sick or a kid that stood up to a bully or a person that fought cancer.

They will be a car cool lane.  If it has been determined that you have been a good driver (only getting ridiculous speeding tickets cause you couldn’t cry your way out of one) and avoided accidents over a sustained period of time, you get to use the car cool lane.  In the car cool lane, there are secret tunnels, warp zones, force fields and you get the use of awesome sports cars and Monster Trucks.  There is no bribing, bullying or intimidating your way in this group.  It’s only for the good responsible drivers over a long period of time.

Life in the crash lane.

Life in the crash lane.

A second lane will be for the “crash causers”.  The distracted, the excessive speeders, the ones that never learned how to use the breaks or a stick shift, or a mirror or blinker.  The ones that break into cars, forget to leave notes when they run into yours, that ones that apply make up or eat breakfast, or text the whole way, or drink while driving.  In this lane, the cars are only junkers with big bumpers.  It is a no holds barred, bumper car like, speed fest.  You can’t hurt the good drivers in the car cool lane (forcefield) or harm the slow lane (also forcefield).  Items are reigning down like Mario Kart.  Fireballs, boomerangs, blue spiky tortoise shells, banana peels.  You can’t drive, then get ready to be with others that can’t drive either.

One last thing before I go to my first legislative meeting.  Work weeks will be shorter.  That is a must.  4 days max, no crazy overtime, more vacation time, and for goodness sake, more holidays.  6 “official” holidays is not near enough.  And by the way, if there is a holiday, it will be a day off.  St. Patrick’s Day, Flag Day, Veteran’s Day, Easter.  If they are a holiday, we won’t be celebrating those at work.

Alright now I have to go.  The world can’t become a bitter place without me.


Bitter Ruler Ben

Hey Bitter Journal

Hey Bitter Journal (I’m not going to call you a dear, journal)

What’s up bro? Doing good? No? Yeah me either.  Life is pretty bitter these days.  All kinds of things are making me bitter lately.  As you should know my now, work sucks.  You know what is irritating? Besides everything? They expect me to show up and just start doing stuff.  Like where is the homework assignments that I was used to ignoring when I was in school?  Where are the projects that I was supposed to be contributing minimally to with my group of people that I got stuck with because I had no friends in class?  Where are the lectures from teachers that had really soothing voices that I could pretend to not fall asleep to? They expect you to do stuff at work without being told how or when? What kind of crap is that? And they expect like more than one thing to be done at a time too.  I don’t remember there being a class in school called duotasking that taught you how to walk and swing your arms at the same time, do you, man? Oh yeah, you probably wouldn’t know that because I didn’t really write in you during school.  In fact, you probably wouldn’t know any of that since this is my first entry.  I would catch you up on what has happened in the last 41 years, but quite frankly, I don’t remember much.  There were a few lowlights, like when I almost got lost in the mountains and almost died, but no one cares about something stupid like that.

There was that thing with that one girl that decided to accept the rose ring I gave her. Then we went to that one place and promised something about time and eternity and gave each other 5 golden rings or two I can’t remember.  Now she let’s me live in her house!  Of course I have to share stuff with these other two roommates we have.  But we get to eat good food together sometimes too and sometimes I even get to warm or rewarm it.  It’s in this thing that blows things up, like metal and cellphones, but it doesn’t really blow food up…unless you leave it in there for like 90 minutes.  They both go to school.  They must be really smart to have been both been accepted to the same elementary university school.  The older one is the 5th grade program and the younger one is in the 1st grade program.  Luckily they don’t live in the dorms, because that would be expensive for them to pay for.  They are kind of slackers though because neither of them have a job.

I hear Halloween is coming up.  Not sure how since Halloween stores have only been open since early August, and Halloween themed candy has only been on sale since July.  I love how the holidays recently have taken a step back to give us a little relief to do other things like mock the weatherman for predicting that it would rain in Seattle or that it would be sunny in Arizona.  I wonder how bitter it would be to be a weatherman, going to school for years to study weather patterns and high and low pressure hurricane clouds and to get scooped by me going outside to tell you what the weather is going to be like for the next 5 minutes. Speaking of being able to predict things,  I predict that someone will be gone from work today…and I’m right.  I should be a medium…sized diet soda, cause they taste so bitter compared to medium sized regular sugared soda.  Just the same, I leave a bad aftertaste.

Well, I gotta go Bitter Journal, things are about to get bitter, cause my phone is wringing (and I mean wringing in the worst way, cause I hate phone rings like those Pavlov dogs do),

By the way, I hope no one ever gets ahold of this journal cause there are some super dark secrets in here that no one should ever hear.

Out like a bout of Shout


Bitter Journalist Ben


Friday Slideday

Let Friday Slideday commence.

Let Friday Slideday commence.



I declare that it is officially Friday Slideday.  That means you are officially invited to slide down a notch whatever it is that you were doing today.  So, if you were at a slight 30% capacity on doing work this morning, slide that down a very comfortable and barely functioning 10%.  If you were wearing tuxedo wear for some odd reason today, slide down to shorts, hat, sandals and T-shirt mode.  If your lunch was a healthy salad and glutten free tofu and sprouts sandwich, I give you permission to slide that down to a pizza.  Whatever it is that you are working so hard on, don’t.  Tell your boss that you are sliding down your chair onto the floor for a quick nappy nap and if they ask, tell them Bitter Ben told me so.  I take complete blame for all your shenanigans.  Also, if they ask, tell them that Bitter Ben gives them permission to be 30% less of a jerk today.  Tell them to go eat their stuffed crust pizza bacon sandwich and leave the sliding to you. And just so you have a better idea of what to do, here are some examples.


No sir… is certainly not a joke.

…we don’t joke about things around here.


I guess this guy…


..took me literally.

..took me literally.


It’s never too early…

...I never even said you had to be out of danger to start sliding.

…to start Friday Slideday.


Chicken seems to get it…

...tortoise, not so much.

…tortoise, not so much.


This kid has clearly mistaken…

...Slideday Friday for Tragic Tuesday.

…Slideday Friday for Tragic Tuesday.


This guy gets it…

...he's he lays down.

…he’s he lays down.


This kid and kitty…

...the kitty and the kid are doing a dance Friday celebration.

…are doing the Friday Electric Slideday.


This dude started his Slideday Friday…

...right in the middle of traffic.

…right in the middle of traffic.


And this lady…

...just couldn't quit once he started.

…Lay’s potato chipped it.  She couldn’t do just one slide.


This lady…

...she couldn't be late for Slideday Friday, no matter the cost...of towing a tow truck.

…couldn’t be late for Slideday Friday, no matter the cost…of towing a tow truck.


Make Friday Slideday happen…

...even if you have to burn a few bridges.

…even if you have to blow up a few bridges.


I guess this reporter didn’t like my post idea…

...but the post didn't really like him either.

…but the post didn’t really like him either.


Well look at that.  I can see most of you have slid to your least productive already.  In fact, it looks like most of you have slid so far down the slide of productivity today, that you could barely manage to finish this post.  Well, I’m so bad, that that I couldn’t even finish this



Bitter Slidder Bitterness Ben












B.A.T. (Bitter Advice Thursday)

Bitter Advice for everyone.

Free Bitter Advice for those that don’t want it. But feel free to pay if you want it.

As you may know if you are savvy at looking at calendars and assessing the difference between days (What’s the difference between Monday and Tuesday again?), you would see that it is Thursday.  Since I am such an expert at being bitter, and some of my readers really struggle with being such, I thought I would sit down(my favorite exercise position other than laying down) and dispense with some advice on how to be bitter or bitter ways to do things.  In my experience, there is nothing more annoying than being given advice that you just didn’t want or ask for, which is why I am offering my unsolicited Bitter Advice to you today.  You can let me know if the comments how annoyed you really are.  So ready? No? Good.

Always cross both ways of the street before looking.

Mess with the Bear.

Eye contact with bears.

Make good eye contact with bears.

When meeting someone for the first time, always ask their name, then immediately forget it, so you can say “What was your name again?”  Also, choose at least one thing about that person that annoys you.  Make sure to keep that in the back of your mind whenever you see them again.

When trying to achieve a dream, always give your least half-hearted effort.

Make sure that whenever you make a decision, you have at least some regrets.

Whenever someone does something that offends you, passive aggressively get your revenge in slow and subtle ways until they are completely destroyed as a person. Or completely trash their house.

Life is a sprint, not a marathon.  Get thoroughly frustrated about everything in a hurry.

Life is about the little details. Like why did that guy just cut me off? I’m really angry about being late to my job that I can’t stand.

Make sure you have a lack of clear vision.

Make sure you have a lack of clear vision.

Always lack a clear vision of where you are going.  Either get some glasses that don’t work, or get botched eye surgery.

Hire a lawyer.  They will gladly charge you lots of money per hour to do not much. Plus, you can make really bad jokes at their expense that they have totally heard before.

Show them a thing.

Show them a thing.

Wrestle sharks.  Cause they are kind of arrogant about their wrestling skills against humans and need to learn a lesson or two.

Always go into a long race unprepared, except for the prepared food you eat right before it.  Pasta is always a good pre-race favorite.

Always bring a steak knife to a gun fight.  You know, in case they miss and you need something to cut your steak with afterwards.

Be arrogant without being talented.  That way people will despise you even more.

Always expect the world without having to work for it.  Then you will almost always be bitterly disappointed.  Except if you win the lottery. But then be upset because you didn’t win more.

Be bad, or be bad at it.

Always buy stuff that you have no intention of ever paying for.

No amount of credit card debt is too much.

Watch the news so you can be more informed…about how messed up other people are.

Stay up late, wake up early.

Whenever someone makes a mistake, remember, criticize them, because everyone makes mistakes and you want to cover up yours by putting the emphasis on other people’s mistakes.

Always listen to other people’s advice.

I know there is a lot to think about, but remember, you shouldn’t take things day by day.  Try to cram all these things in one day, because if you don’t do them today, there is no tomorrow. So get out there and obey.  Heed my terrible advice so you can ruin someone else’s day.


Bitterly Mistaken Ben





Collection bitterness

Annnd my worst nightmare appears...

Annnd my worst nightmare appears…

On Sunday, as is tradition, we were watching some incredibly dull TLC/Home Improvement network/Discovery/Bio network show called Extreme Collections or something.  It was about this guy who meets with people that have large collections of things, anywhere from cars to trains to harmonica’s or baseball cards.  Most people on the show had collected an immense amount of the things, so much so that they had rooms or basements dedicated to the item that they were collecting.  This guy was an expert at assessing the worth of the collection and declaring that amount to the person.  Most people’s collections would be worth more than what they paid for it, so they felt justified in their dedication of collecting.  But in the end, most people also said they would never sell all the stuff they had.  So to me, they are closet hoarders, in that they keep their hoarding dedicated to a closet, room or basement.

Most people will admit to collecting something or other.  When I was in high school, I collected keychains.  At one point, the only way to carry around my collection of 35 or so chains was in my incredibly deep pocketed acid wash jeans.  People would take a look at my crazy collection and tell me that the weight of the chain would ruin the ignition in my car.  Oooh, I was so afraid of ruining a 1979 Volkswagen Beetle, on my way to a job that was paying me $2.75/hour.  Thankfully, I grew out of the keychain collection like I did those acid wash jeans and bad hair. But I do continue to collect stuff.

One of my favorite and most valuable accidents.

One of my favorite and most valuable accidents.

Moving violation tickets – I started collecting tickets at an age before most people even started driving.  At got my first ticket driving the trendy two street cruising loop that teenagers would cruise in order to falsely hope to “pick up chicks” when I was 15.  I had no game then (nor did I ever “get game”), but I did have a headlight out, and they was enough for a cop to pull me over and give me my first ticket.  I continued to get tickets on a regular basis for speeding, driving without a license, driving while drowsy and the super rare, failing to fully stop at a stop light.  I thought it was a myth that those even existed, but I think they are worth quite a bit on the moving violation ticket market.

Bad report cards – A tradition since kindergarten when I was given a simple task to make flowers out of crepe paper.  All the kids around me somehow were able to make a whole trees worth in a matter of minutes then were able to get early naptime and then recess, while bad instruction follower me, and super shy teacher asker couldn’t for the life of him, figure out how to just make a little twist and that would result in a decent looking flower.  The only three that appeared on my tree was the two demonstrated to me by my teacher and the one that my kindergarten neighbor did for me out of pity.  This tradition continued on in other grades and subjects like math, biology, math, geometry, trigonometry, calculus, algebra and math.  Never did I go even one semester without getting at least one bad grade on a report card.

I was so clutch.

I was so clutch.

Sports failures – I started collecting unclutch moments in sports at a young age.  My earliest moment of failure came when I was riding my high speed Big Wheel around a corner too fast and got in a wreck with the pavement of my driveway. There were the 8 goals I gave up as a soccer goalie, the missed layups when I could have won basketball games, the loud rattling of the high jump bar at 5’6, placing me second out of the two in the city high jump finals.  There were the 7 place out of 8 in the 400 meters, and the captain of the worst YMCA basketball team in the history of men’s high school basketball.  The first guys that ever played basketball with peach baskets would have trounced us and they didn’t even know the rules.

I was so good...until that one day.

I was so good…until that one day.

Scars – My scar collection started in the early years. The aforementioned high speed Big Wheel wreck of 1977 was the first of three known scars.  The second was another high speed collision, but this time with another person.  I was playing an intense four square match, when a riot broke out from the other side of school, so as an involved and responsible citizen of the school, it was my duty to check out the fight.  As I was rounding the corner, I ran into another citizen who was going the other way and we knocked into each other’s foreheads.  6 stitches under my eyebrow.  The third was at work when I was helping remove store shelves from an old store and one of the metal beams fell down on the back of my right hand and showed me for the first time in HD what your skin looks like under the surface.

Call collecting what you want.  A future investment, an obsession, or organized hoarding, most of us do it.  Someday we will all realize that doing it was a huge mistake.  We either collected the wrong junk that is useless and just taking up a lot of space, or the stuff we were collecting was worth a lot of money and we allowed our mothers to throw it out because it wasn’t a collector’s item.


Bitter Collector of Junk Ben

Bitterly Bad Decision Monday

Worldwide Day of What are you talking about?

Worldwide Day of What are you talking about?


I make really bad decisions on a daily basis, but when given two days of “freedom” on the weekend there are even worse decisions made.  For instance, this weekend there was the whole sleepover thing that lead to me going to bed at 9:40 pm Friday (the life of an old year old.) This lead me to waking up on Saturday actually feeling a little less tired and ready for a nap than I usually am.  I did the things that I normally try to do on Saturdays, which is eat three bowls of Frosted Flakes, obtain my unhealthy sugar high for the day, then sit on the couch for several hours while the day whittles away slowly and I regret all the nothing I did all day.  This Saturday morning took a tragic turn however, when my kids started watching Nickelodeon.  Normally, I prefer Cartoon Network and will lead them in that manner by shaming them for watching such immature cartoons, but today, I was in a meh amount of non-committal bleh.  So as the time neared 9:00 am, the Nickelodeon’s started talking some gibberish on the commercials.  I wasn’t familiar with the words they were saying so I kind of stood up and took notice.  They said that today was Worldwide Day of Play.  What is this thing they spoke of?

The crazy people of Nickelodeon proposed that we “go outside and do something” as opposed to watching Nickelodeon.  Are they crazy? For three hours? What kind of endurance they they think we have around here? And don’t they know how dangerous it is outside? There could be sun out there! There could be dirt and grass that get us dirty? There could be calories that were actually stolen from all the gains I made that morning with the cereal.  Why would you ask this of us Nickelodeon? Why would the whole world of people be asked to go outside?  Don’t they know it could be crowded out there?  So, since Nickelodeon wasn’t going to show anything and I couldn’t reach the remote control to change it to another less guilt shaming network, I was coerced to go outside.  And throw things to my son.  My arm started hurting immediately and my eyes almost went blind from the sun breaking through all the clouds and my legs and arms got weak from all the exercise. The fresh air the entered my lungs almost choked me from mixing with all the toxic bitter air inside my lungs. It was a nightmare that I kept trying to wake from.

I got buuurned.

I got buuurned.

Finally the Worldwide day of Play was over. Thankfully in the eyes of Nickelodeon 3 hours means a day.  And thankfully it was all just a nightmare that I woke up from when taking a nap on the couch.  Pshhheww.


Bitter Bad Decision Ben

The Bitter Realm Conclusion – The Lost Relics


Cause the third part of the triquel is always the most disappointing.

Originally posted on Ben's Bitter Blog:


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…

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The Bitter Realm Part 2


Cause the sequel is always worse.

Originally posted on Ben's Bitter Blog:

So, I did a post last week about leaving this realm and going to another because doing stuff in this realm is hard and I’m laaazy.  This is the continuation of that post, which bored and astounded no one.  If you want something to put you to sleep, read the first part right here.  If you want excitement and adventure, stop reading this post 63 words ago.

So, here I am still in this stupid line. They kicked me into the villain line, which was clearly a mistake.  Don’t they know who I am on the earth? I’m at least in the top 7 billion for most important and wealthiest people on earth. They need to learn a little respect.

ME: Excuse me person in front of me.  Why is it taking so long for me to get entrance in the video game realm? I’m getting really tired of standing.  How many are in…

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