The Not That Great Podcast

Hey assholes. Check out my new podcast here:

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Atheistjustin Checks in on You

Haven't had a lot of time during the school year to post a lot. But, with the election, the Holiday Season, finals week, and all that shit, I just want to let all of you know that everything's going to be okay.

So chill out. Stop fearing the end of the world.

Our new president looks like a cross between a carrot and a scare-crow, but everything is gonna be okay.

I'll get back to you sons of bitches with more posts about my exciting life in a few weeks when this conundrum that we call college is over.



Saturday, October 8, 2016

Atheistjustin Has Some Visitors

It was a regular ass day. Nothing out of the blue.  didn't do any of the reading I was supposed to, argued unsuccessfully with my woman, and pretended to care about baseball.

At the end of the night, however, I had a 2 unexpected, uninvited guests.

First and foremost, if you don't already know, I live in the shittiest Fraternity House known to mankind. And that is really saying something. 

This historic death trap will one day kill me, and has already taken a toll on my liver, soul, and anus, but boy has it given me some fucking stories. 

And no, this isn't a frat 'lodge.' I don't wear a bowtie and stick things up undergrads' assholes. This thing is a part-time Crack Pipe Haven part-time Fetty Wap Flagship. 

As a part of being in this flagship of AIDS, there are always people strolling in on a regular basis. Sometimes someone is just dropping by. Sometimes people lose things from the night before and are trying to recover them: phones, wallets, ID's, virginities, self-respect, dignity, etc. 

Anyway, as my housemates and I were gathered in the loving room around the TV, it was nothing out of the ordinary hearing a knock on the front door.

Door opens, we hear footsteps up the stairs, someone yells, "yo!" A regular occurrence.

It was a little surprising, however, when the footsteps belonged to two 40-year old men. 

One greeted us by promptly informing us that he belonged to our same Fraternity at another school and the other told us that was a Rutgers Alum but from another Fraternity. 

Well, that's nice guys but its 10:45pm and we're just trying to watch baseball without our dads right next to us. 

They took a seat and proceeded to drink beer that didn't belong to them. I figured they'd stick around for like 10-15 minutes. 

Well, a full 1 hour 20 minutes later they were still in my fucking living room. 

After about 5 minutes, we quickly realized they were both hammered having just come back from seeing Andrew Dice Clay at the Stress Factory. Most strangers who enter my house are usually under the influence of something, so I was unfazed. 

Hickory Dickory Dock, These Drunk Bastards Didn't Even Knock. 

If you don't get the reference you can go fuck yourself. 

Anyway, I got to talking to them and asked them what they did for a living. 

They then proceeded to pull out 2 guns.

I'll repeat.

They then both pulled out guns. 

This turned out to be an interesting story right??? Aren't you glad you stuck around?

Questioning why they both had semi-automatic weapons, they began to explain they were both off-duty cops and one of them was even a Narcotics officer. 

As he was telling us this there were 2 bongs and about a half an ounce of pot on the living room table. There were just enough drugs for us all to get arrested. 

Someone asked if they ever shot or killed anybody. One said, "Yes, there's a video on YouTube. Look up 'unjust Somerville Shooting'"

That's nice.

After watching the video, I have to be honest, the shooting was pretty just. 

The night proceeded for AN HOUR AND A HALF of them telling us about college in the 90's and how gay we are for not having enough beer for them to drink as though we are responsible for fueling their alcoholism and inevitable divorces. 

If you're reading this and want to know when your welcome has been expired, ITS AN HOUR AND A HALF. 

After enough awkwardness had ensued, and I didn't feel like being the one to politely ask them to leave, I went into my room to go back to my usual routine of not doing my homework. 

Eventually they left leaving us to wonder when the next incredibly unwelcomed and awkward guests will show up. 

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Atheistjustin Wrote You A Short Story

Hey assholes.

As I continue to focus mainly on making podcasts and masturbating, I don't have a ton of stuff to put up here on my blog about my shitty, shitty life.

As many of you know, I recently finished moving into my off-campus housing. This wonderful pile of shit will probably be where I die. Between the wonderful New Brunswick populous that are wonderfully inclined to break into your home and murder you to the holes in the ceiling and mold spores on each and every wall of the house, there is a 98% chance this is my last year on planet earth.

All that being said, I am sure living in this hell-hole will probably give me a ton of content but most of it will be broadcasted orally via my podcast.

If you're too new to this site to not have seen the post directly before, you can listen to my podcast either on soundcloud or on the iTunes Podcast app that you probably didn't even know you had.

Anyway, below is a short-story I wrote a year or so ago and have been unable to find a home for it. Apparently the New Yorker isn't fond of short-stories about anal.

You'll understand what I mean when you read the whole thing. Without further ado, here is a humorous short story I wrote entitled "Palm Trees in Kentucky."

Palm Trees In Kentucky


Justin Hawthorne

     Carrie was still on my mind even a year later. Seriously, it seemed like every day there would be some bullshit that made me think of her. I’d literally be driving down a street that we went down maybe once/twice and then the wheels would be turning and it was just a fucking nightmare. Is that normal? Fucking a year later I’m still spending time every day thinking about her. And listen, it’s not even like last year was when she dumped me- no, no. She actually dumped me over a year ago- I think last year was when I saw her for like eight seconds in some restaurant. So, I guess this obsession- this vex I had over her is what drove me to online dating.
     It’s pathetic isn’t it? It’s hard to even say online dating. I sound like a pussy. Honestly, I am a pussy. Online dating is like that shitty friend you don’t want to mention to grandma. “What” she’d start. “You can’t find a nice girl? You can’t go to the library or the mall or something and meet somebody? What the hell’s the matter with you?” Oh fuck you grandma.
     The sad thing is that after high school- after college, the girls you come in contact with are absurdly uncomfortable since they’re the people you work with. How am I supposed to even talk to Dana with the big tits? What’s my motive? She knows it and I know it: to bust an orgasm inside her after 45 seconds of awkward, unfulfilling strokes. Then it would be weird in the office because I don’t want to date a woman who’s 10 years older than me and all we’d have to remember that one night and the cum stain on my shirt. Besides, I don’t think she’d want to, as delightful as the whole scenario sounds.
     Anyway, back to the story: I matched with this girl, Laura. She looked pretty. Now, just because she looked pretty didn’t mean shit. With anything online, there’s a very strong chance that behind the computer is a hairy 45-year old Balkan man whose trying to lure you into his anal-dungeon. Then there’s a stronger chance that she’s not really that good looking. I mean with all the make-up, filters, lighting, it’s actually hard to detect if someone’s good looking or not. But, I took the risk. I matched with Lauren, we started messaging, I got her number, etc. Finally, we decide on a first date and she said she’d show me a place as long as I drove her. Alright. Fine. Pick you up? No fucking problem lady.
     I’m a white guy- in case you couldn’t figure it out by the fact that I’m online dating. Not to say that there aren’t any black guys on dating websites- but well, there really aren’t- at least not any 24-year olds. But, being a white guy it means picking the quintessential ‘first date outfit:’ a plain button up shirt and a nice pair of pants. I went with blue. Why? Because fuck you. I got in my car and drove 10-15 minutes to her house. This distance was good because it wasn’t so far that it would annoy me if we ever made this into a relationship but if this went horribly wrong there was a solid chance I would never see her out in public.
     I pulled up to her house and she was already outside. This at first struck me as odd, but then I realized I texted her ‘here’ 3 minutes ago and I would have been there if some ass-clown in a silver Honda wasn’t busy scratching his asshole while driving 10 miles an hour. She gets in my car and says hello. I said hey. There was an awkward situation of “oh, should I kiss her on the cheek? Should I shaker her hand? Should I just pull my penis out and say, ‘hey, we both know why I’m here.”’
     “You look nice,” I said. And I wasn’t referring to her outfit. She actually was as pretty as her profile pictures. I probably shouldn’t have made mine pictures of Chuck Norris from 1982, in retrospect.
     “You too,” she replied. “I like that shirt.” Bitch, it was a plain fucking blue shirt.
     “So, where are we headed?”
     “I’ll direct you, it’s a surprise.”
     “Are you going to chop me up into little pieces and eat me?”
     “What?” It was at this point I realized this date wouldn’t go particularly well if she didn’t understand my darling sense of humor.
     “Never mind.” For the next few minutes we had some small talk and she gave me directions. I don’t know why she had to make it such a pain in the ass, she could have just told me the restaurant’s name. Now, it’s important to mention that my phone was plugged in to the car’s sound system. I love music. I have a very broad, eclectic taste in music. I have some metal, a lot of rap, jazz, blues, old rock and roll, indie rock, classic; I mean if it’s good music I’ll listen to it. Hell, sometimes even if it’s bad music and my friends play it I’ll listen to it. My phone was on shuffle and we were doing okay for the most part. “Regular” music was playing. You know, some Led Zeppelin, some Wu-Tang Clan, nothing that was crazy for a twenty-four year old white man. Then Coltrane came on. Now, I love Jazz- I really do. I love Jazz so much that I forget that it might be strange to another person who is not collecting social security.
     “What is this,” she asked.
     “Oh fuck, sorry. This is John Coltrane. It’s Jazz.”
     “Why are you sorry?”
     “Well, you know, Jazz isn’t like, ‘first date’ music, I guess.”
     “You like Jazz?”
     “Love Jazz. It’s smart, you know? Like, when Jazz is playing you really have to listen to it. You can’t just leave it on in the background. You have to feel how they were making the music, I guess. Especially when you’re listening to someone like Coltrane.”
     “My grandpa used to like Jazz.”
     “He doesn’t like it anymore?”
     “Well, he died.”
     I’m a fucking idiot. We pulled up to the restaurant. It wasn’t anything special. We got a table and started looking at the menu. I got coffee and she got tea. I immediately realized this human being in front of me was not for me. You’re getting tea? Are you a fucking pussy, miss? Are you a British imperialist? At this point I figured ‘fuck it.’ This date is already going to amount to nothing. I’m going to just do whatever the fuck I want. I decided to elevate the conversation to medium talk. Medium talk, by the way, is a term I learned from watching Curb Your Enthusiasm and from what I can deduce it’s the in-between from small talk to in-depth, deep conversation.
     “What’s your favorite position?” I asked.
     “Eh... I used to like being on top but lately I’ve been doing a lot of anal.”
     Did I just hear-
     “Anal? Really?”
     “Yeah. My ex and I tried it out a few months ago and ever since I’ve really been into it.”
     “You’re kidding.”
     “I swear to God.”
     “Well this just got very interesting.”
     “Oh, I wasn’t interesting before I admitted that I like anal?”
     “No, I don’t mean that I just-“
     “I know, I’m just kidding.” She chuckled and I laughed. Okay British Imperialist, I see you. I began to enjoy this date. I’ll admit: my penis was slightly aroused. “So really tell me about yourself. You’re an actual writer? Like you put words in orders and sell them?”
     “Sure do,” I said.
     “What are you working on right now?”
     “I just submitted my manuscript to a publisher I’m waiting to hear back. Hopefully, I’ll be able to quit my job and focus more on the writing, you know?”
     “But you’re not working on anything else right now?”
     “I had an idea for a short story about a serial killer in Kentucky but I haven’t started it yet.”
     “Because you just finished the manuscript?”
     “Well that, and because I haven’t had a chance to research Kentucky.”
     “What do you mean research?”
     “Well, with writing you can’t just pick a spot and bullshit it- I mean you can, but then if anybody from that place actually bothers to read it they’ll be able to smell the bullshit. I mean, there are people who would believe in palm trees in Kentucky but then there are people who actually live there.”
     “Palm trees in Kentucky... I like that.” The date kept going on and I kept trying to think of things to say that would eventually get my penis into her asshole. Finally, the bill came and I was cool enough to actually remember to pay that. I went to drop her off at her house and she invited me in.
     Oh yes. I made it in the house- maybe I can make it into the anus. She showed me around the house and we sat in the kitchen. She made coffee and I think this was my final test before she took me to the bedroom. It was like the final level of Mario. I made it. I beat all the other worlds, I had mushrooms and power ups and all I had to do now was beat that asshole Bowser and I would make it into Princess Peach. That was a god damn good analogy. Go back and read that again.
     So we chitchat some more and we eventually go upstairs. She shows me the bedroom and I kiss her. She kisses me back and we go through the motions. Eventually comes this point where her ass is up in the air and my penis is out. I go in. I haven’t done this since college. For a moment, I take some time and think about how this day has went and how just the simple act of clicking ‘like’ on a profile picture ultimately ended up with my genitals inside of this lady’s asshole.
     Life was good. This felt good. And then her ex-boyfriend came into her house and pulled me off of her. He started shouting and apparently, this break up did not go as cleanly as I had interpreted from her brief mentioning of him. He started screaming and threatening me and instead of being a manly man and standing up to him, I took my clothes and my smelly dick and left.

     I got in my car and drove home. Along the way, I thought about palm tress in Kentucky. I thought about my day again. And then- I fucking thought about Carrie.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Podcast Episode 5

Hey Assholes,

So, as you may or may not know, I have started a Podcast called the "Not That Great Podcast." I think the name does it a lot of justice. You're not going to be disappointed- you already know its not that great.

If you've loved reading the stories and tales of my young life that I've written down here, now you can LISTEN to me bitch and moan about the way my life goes. This will totally help you get laid.

Whether you're a newcomer who saw an ad for this website in Rutgers, or you're a faithful fan like Alice TvsivilikhovRussianasfuckY, I hope people all around the world think I'm funny and give me money.

I've also done a cool ~~thing~~ and successfully purchased '' While this was a ridiculously hard task my senior year of high school and paid an Asian kid in my English class $150 to make a website that didn't work on phones, it's a lot fucking easier now.

I also added ~~~links~~ on the side of my blog where you can A. Purchase a copy of my book 'Drugs, Drinks, and Cigarettes,' B. Check out the soundcloud where my podcast is held, and C. Fist Yourself.

This newest episode of the Podcast took me a while to upload because I ran out of Upload space on my soundcloud and debated whether or not to go and spend $15 a month to Go Pro and continue to upload my shit.

But, considering I spend $15 for a hand job at least twice a week, I figured this was a solid investment.

I know you're probably mad at me because I haven't been loyal to you. I've been busy working in a shitty office doing the 9-5 GRIND that is American Life.

And while my 11:30am shit is the highlight of my work day, I am making a solid amount of money to adequately afford all the things my young, white, entitled self want to buy. (Like sound clouds and websites).

Anyway, check out my new episode using the link on the side. If you're on your phone, I'll add the link below.

I leave you all now with a picture of a ham sandwich.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Not That Great Podcast with host Atheistjustin

Hey assholes.

Sorry I barely keep up with this shit anymore. I've been busy working, fucking off, masterbating, FIFA, MMA (a new hobby), and starting up my own podcast.

the "Not That Great Podcast" is available on all of your Apple devices under the Podcast app. Simply search my name "Atheistjustin" and you'll find all of my rage poured out virtually onto the internet- this time in Audio form!!!

Check it out if you get the chance. I love you. Also, this website might get its own domain name again. Updates to come.

I love you all. Thank you for staying loyal. Also fuck you.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Atheistjustin Graduated High School

Atheistjustin Graduated High School years ago at this point. But, I have been working a job over the summer selling flowers at graduations. Though I have stranger jobs than a Newark hooker, this one isn't too bad.

Anyway, I had the PLEASURE of working THE SHITTIEST high school graduation just a day ago. I will spare you the farce details and refrain from slapping my penis in rage as I recount the horrid hours I was in the shit hole of Southern New Jersey.

Needless to say, as I watched these virgins throw their caps in the air and rejoice in bittersweet celebration of their final High School days, I thought go my own and wished to share some wisdom with the graduating class of 2016.

For those of you in my home town, you are the LAST generation of high school students I am familiar with! Congrats! I don't know anybody younger than you that isn't legally related to me!! You guys r somewhat more important!!!!!!!

This also means that I am officially becoming an old piece of shit because I now no longer have a valid excuse to go to my old high school football games. The team is a steaming pile of shit now anyway, but you know, if I ever wanted to go, I have no bullshit excuse.

I really miss that racist Indian mascot we had, though. RIP bro.

Anyway, here is some advice and some words of wisdom from a hairy, former High School Graduate like myself.

First and foremost, High School is fucking gay. Seriously. The first 2 weeks of college will make you realize how fucking awful sitting around in random peoples' basements were. You'll quickly realize that all the sentimental value you added to those dirty brick walls surmount to a pile of excrement.

(That means poopy)

Waking up at 6AM everyday? Fuck that shit.

The earliest I ever had to wake up for class was 9:50 - and that was just because I got dicked over with a shitty first semester schedule. After that, waking up became something to do at 12:30 or later usually with a raging hangover and wondering where the hell my roommate is.

Bedtime? Of course you haven't really had one since you were 10, but you and I both know that if you didn't fall asleep before 11 you were going to spend the first 2 periods of school questioning why the Godless whores of the educational board don't start school at a later time.

Nothing is worse than getting 2 hours of sleep and then having to listen to some old Jewish lady explain Geometry to you. Trust me, I was there. And in college, you may have that same problem, but nobody is going to hunt you down and castrate you if you just sleep in.

Secondly, everyone comes up with this theory when they graduate high school that 'everybody is friends now.'

No ur not lol

I'll tell you right now- you're going to finish your graduation and have those few minutes where it's just you and your class together on the field- and it'll be the last time EVER that all of you will be together.

It may sound kind of sad, but when you soon realize you don't have to see the same over zealous couples sexually assault each other in the halls, overhear the dumb conversations of the socially inept, or pretend to like the pretentious Daddy's girl in AP Psych, you'll realize this is a blessing to be done with this shit.

You're going to tell tons of people in your class, "I'll hit you up over the summer man!"or "I'll definitely keep in touch!"

No u won't lol

After the summer before your first year in college, maybe you will see a FEW of those people. All you'll talk about is the few memories you may have had in high school. Then you'll diarrhea yourself.

The summer after that, you probably won't even see them again. You probably will diarrhea, though.

And by the time you're my age, you realize that in High School- neigh, in life- you really only have a very particular and select group of friends. Everyone else is ugly and irrelevant. Many of them get pregnant. Some of them turn gay.

All of them are useless and on a long journey to the middle.

At least you're with me now, reader.

I write this post not to diss my Manalapan brethren, but to educate y'all on the truth that you have much more of life to live and this chapter of your life was, indeed, a shitty one.

I will leave you all now with a picture of a stock photo of an Asian lady.

Cuntgratulations Class of 2016

Sunday, April 24, 2016

The 10 Songs You Hear At Every Fucking Party/Bar/Mixer/Dage

I work in a bar. I am in a frat. I enjoy being in social, sweaty places where people stand around in circles and say things. I think most people call them 'parties.'

After going to a few of these, and working in a bar for 7 months, I've noticed that no matter what event you're at, you're going to hear THESE 8 songs at some point during the social event.

1. Drake - Hotline Bling/ Drake Ft. Future - Jumpman

I first heard this whiny little Jewish boy when I was about 13 years old. I was also a whiny little Jewish boy.

 I remember hearing my friend in my summer camp rapping over the lines "chillin wit no make-up on, that's when you're the prettiest I hope that you don't take it wrong."

I immediately called my friend a fag and for the past 7 years, Drake has had at least 1 song a year that every white person and their mother seems to play over and over again. Drake has had the ability to make more of a social impact with his words than Johnny Sins has made vaginal impact with his penis.

Whether it's "YOLO," "Runnin Through the Six With My Woes," "Versace Versace Versace Versace," or "Started From The Bottom Now We Here," Drake has always managed to make some fucking saying that everybody says over and fucking over again until he comes up with another shitty song that he probably didn't write.

Now it's Jumpman or Hotline Bling. You'll hear one of these songs- if not both- at every single social event. Even though everybody goes quiet when Future's part comes on (because nobody has any fucking idea what that stoned tortoise-looking human being is saying), every white girl at the mixer will scream 'Jumpman Jumpman, Jumpan, them boys up to somethin.'"

The only thing I'm up to is drinking heavily trying to get past the 90 seconds the DJ plays this song.

2. Justin Bieber

This fucking asshole has been a part of my generation's shitty taste in music since he came onto the scene with his ear-hurting song "Baby Ft. Guy Who Really Needed A Career Push Ludacris."

Since 8th grade, every girl from my generation has been bothering me with his existence and like AIDS or Cancer, no matter how hard we try, he just won't go away.

Now it seems like some of the boys of my generation have also caught onto the Bieber-Fever-Epidemic and now sing along to his 3 shitty songs: Love Yourself (written by a talented ginger), What Do You Mean, and Sorry.

Though his songs were also probably not written by him, if you put out a soundtrack of this kid just shitting and farting into a microphone for 90 minutes, the white girls of my generation and younger will eat it up and shit it out because they are slaves to the media machine.

And now, even though I'm just trying to get this girl named Dani to come back to my dorm and touch me in the bellybutton, I have to hear this fucking prick in the background.

3. The Weeknd - The Hills

A girl my freshman year of college once told me that The Weeknd's music is like having angry sex. I guess you could call it that. Personally, I call his music a steaming pile of shit.

A steaming pile of shit is also the name of The Weeknd's haircut.

This song usually comes on at nightly events because it has that weird kind-of-rapey-vibe.

I have no idea what he's actually saying in this song - but what this song really says is: "if you're a light-skinned black man with the ability to sing really high-pitched, you can have the shittiest haricut in the world and still get more ass than Atheistjustin ever will in his life."

4. R. Kelly - Ignition (Remix)

We (white people) love this song. We love this song so much, there was actually a petition in 2013 to make this song the new National Anthem of the United States. I am not lying when I tell you that. I may have signed it.

We love this song so much that it still comes on AT EVERY SOCIAL EVENT 13 years after it came out.

We love this song so much that we forgave/forgot about R. Kelly pissing on a high school freshman.

Just like Jellyfish and Betty White, this song will never fucking die.

5. Blink-182 - All The Small Things

I fucking hate Blink-182. On top of being the 2nd whitest band ever (Green Day is #1) I just never really liked the sound of the lead singer's voice.

Also, why do they have to pronounce every single letter of every single word in their songs? It kind of freaks me out. Seriously, if you've ever noticed it, it's like every single letter is in bold and underlined and italicized.

This song usually comes on when the DJ is feeling 'throwback-y' and usually follows something like Ignition (Remix).

6. Rihanna - Work

Holy fucking shit. It's like the Music Industry just gave up at this point.

I never really cared that much for Rihanna. I never really thought she was THAT good looking and never liked any of her songs. This song is no exception.

I have a 3-year old brother who probably could have written this song. Though its a song that thousands of white girls get excited to hear, absolutely nobody has any idea what the fuck this lady is saying.

It takes more 'work' to understand what is going on in this song than it does to pass your Calc 4 final. Not that I would know- I'm an English major.

7. Sammy Adams - All Night Longer

Holy shit did this kid go nowhere. Not sure what garbage can Sammy Adams is currently living in, but this song is still alive and living in our fraternity's shitty basement.

Sammy Adams was relevant for a little while when I was in high school, but like Mac Miller and Asher Roth, these young white rappers found quick, short success and then died.

Mac Miller is still out being a hipster somewhere but I haven't kept many tabs on him since he dropped GOOD A.M. last summer. He's prob high though.

Anyway, maybe it's just a Rutgers thing, like Fat Sandwiches and getting mugged by New Brunswick's poor, but this song seems to follow me to the toilet of every Fraternity house.

Also, for the record, Bartenders fucking hate when you tell them to make the drink stronger. We'll make it how we fucking make it you fucking asshole. You get what we give you and you like it. Please tip me.

8. Fetty Wap - Trap Queen/679

I have never been more disappointed in New Jersey than I was when I found out this 1-eyed piece of shit is from Paterson.

I have no idea how this is even considered 'music' and I think I'm going to move to the hills of China because I am losing faith in the intelligence of my country's youth. Fetty Wap is hardly a rapper anymore than I am a dolphin.

At least when Drake does that sing/song-y kind of rapping thing, he has a nice voice and uses a unique melody with every song. Fetty Wap, however, sounds the exact fucking same in every piece of shit fucking song.

Like the Hula-Hoop, the Snuggie, and the Selfie-Stick, Fetty Wap is just a ridiculous fad that will one day die out. I am looking forward to not having to hear either of these songs again, however, I am afraid of what is going to come next.

Well thats it for now. With Drake's new song that just came out, and Beyonce's new album that just dropped, I'm sure we'll have at least 2 more songs to add to this list.

I will leave you all now with a picture of a true musical genius the world lost a few days ago.

RIP Prince

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Atheistjustin Leaves NJ, Writes Book

As the title suggests, for Spring Break I went across the U.S. I ended up as far as Indianapolis, Indiana until heading north to Chicago and eventually back to my hometown in New Jersey.

Between tolls, gas, food, and motels, it was economically arduous and it was as far as I could go. I had a blast and learned a lot and have generally forsaken social media since then.

I haven't been in Instagram, Snapchat, or Twitter as much as I had before my trip. I also gave up shaving. The two are probably unrelated. I am becoming a bear.

Anyway, I also decided to re-write and re-publish my first book, Drugs, Drinks, and Cigarettes.

If you love me, you'll click this link and buy it. It's 9 dollars plus shipping. Don't be an asshole. Help me. You spent more on your t-shirt than you'll spend on this book.

Please tell ur friends and family. I rly need to pay back my bills.


Thursday, March 10, 2016

Atheistjustin Welcomes You

Hello person reading these words,

If you are reading this, it is for one of two reasons.

The first, is that you are a follower of me in the social media sphere and you saw me put up a post for this link. This is my last post before I venture out across the country.

The second, is that you have stumbled upon my blog via the pieces of paper I put all around the country as I went on a cross-country road trip my sophomore year of college.

For you newcomers, I would like to explain a few things:

 1. this is not a religious website. Do I believe in God? No. Do I know for a fact that he doesn't exist? No. Do I like guacamole? Honestly, sometimes I think it's a little overrated.

2. this is a blog run by me, @atheistjustin. Follow my nipples on twitter if you'd like constant updates on when my posts are published and to be reminded how unfunny I am online.

3. your opinion matters..... not *Borat voice* there is a comment section at the bottom of my posts. Feel free to say whatever you'd like. If my opinions/thoughts/posts offended you, I'm sorry. You typed the web address in, though.

4. the thoughts expressed in this website are the sole property of myself, atheistjustin, and do not reflect any other parties, organizations, universities, alien organisms, nipple hairs, siamese twins, atheists, jews, circus clowns, prostitutes, Koreans, or Britney Spears.

On a sidenote, has anybody seen Britney Spears lately? Is she dead? Updates would be nice.

5. most if not all of my posts will be about my life and the events that happen in them. These will be humorous and use profane language.  Often, intensely profane language.

6. I will often make references to races and stereotypes but I am in no way a racist. The only races I hate are ones where they make white people run against black people because we all know whose going to win.

Thank you for viewing this blog. Enjoy.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

Atheistjustin on Snapchat and Instagram

Well, I've officially run out of shit to write about. My life is as interesting as a blowjob from Betty White.

I wanted to write a post about snapchat and Instagram and how these apps are destroying our society's youth. If you want to hear my drunk ass ramble at 3AM about a fucking app, keep reading. If you have a life, log off and go fuck that person you were going to.

Anyway, your snapchats are all so fucking gay. Here's the problem: I don't give a shit.

Nobody gives a shit.

Yes, you went out. Yes, you had some alcohol. Yes, you know the fucking words to that fucking Justin Beiber song I hear every fucking day 45 times and contemplate hanging myself to.

We are very fucking proud of you.

Nobody gives a flying fuck.

Every snapchat story is the same- especially when we're talking about women.

There's only 1 female whose snap chat story I can say I really enjoyed watching and it was Nicolette Lopocaro's. I don't know what happened but god damn- those were some quality stories and I used to laugh my ass off.

I still reminisce on Vanessa Antico's cover. "A he he he"

You know who has the worst snapchat stories? Allie Gorenc. I'm not going to lie- I know only people from my hometown who read this are going to understand/give a shit - but holy fuck I can't do it.

I just can't watch it anymore. I understand- you're in LA. I understand - you're good looking. Yes, yes, you sing. Loudly. Let's move on and find another thing to focus on. These outfits are just getting more and more ridiculous every day.

I'm really not one to talk since my snapchat stories are basically just me bothering my roommate and waking up looking sweaty/ugly/hung over.

But fuck you, this is my blog I'll talk shit about whoever I want.

You know what the issue is? I have all these people I follow for essentially no reason. I mean, maybe there was a point in time I did give a shit- but now I really just don't give a shit.

It's amazing how quickly you realize how small your friend group really is. Like, when I was a senior in high school, I thought everybody was my shitty friend. Now I'm a sophomore in college and I'm not sure my mom entirely likes me.

Hi mom. I know you're reading this. I was just kidding. Please relax.

You know what the big problem is with Snapchat? Most of the time, what you're filming is only interesting/applicable to you.

Like, nobody gives a fuck about that corona. Nobody gives a fuck about some guy you just met in a dirty basement who is now grinding on your girlfriend who you don't even really like but she tagged along with your best friend and now you're just here like well ok fuck I guess I'll be with her all night but in the end its whatever for you because she looks ugly and only makes that dress look better on you and did I just fucking nail that right on the fucking rhetorical fucking head or what ladies?

You know what the worst is? The 'reply chug' snap bullshit.

You sent me a 4 second video of you chugging a rolling rock? Do I give a flying fuck? What kind of a piece of shit narcissistic cocksucking douchebag do you think you are that now I'm going to go out of my way and stop doing whatever I was doing before just so I can send you a bullshit 4 second video of me drinking another bullshit beer? Fuck you.

These run on sentences are getting out of hand.

Now there's Instagram, which I enjoy in moderation. I'll admit when I was younger and the app was fairly new, I used Instagram all the time and would find an excuse to put up a picture every couple of days. Now I'm older and understand that less is more, so I only use it maybe once every other week- if that.

Here's an Instagram fad I hate- videos of people singing.

Here's a video of me- singing- alone in this room- by myself- which I took several attempts at filming- go like it so I can tell myself I'm good at singing

Fuck. You.

Who gives a fuck about your singing? Half of the time your singing really isn't that impressive and the other half of the time your singing is God awful and I am making fun of you with the homeless guy behind the convenience store because all my real friends are out getting laid.

My biggest problem with Instagram is that its as if we only do what we're doing to appeal to Instagram.

It's like we only go out, we only drink, and go to parties or bars or whatever- just so that we can show other people we're doing it. It's like we're constantly trying to publicize our actions as being cool or interesting to the point in which we don't even find enjoyment just doing these things.

I work at a bar. And I can tell you from experience its honestly sad watching a person take out their phone and start snap chatting themselves or other people. You are literally spending your time here on showing other people that you're spending time here.

For the love of shit on my cock, get off your fucking phone and live your fucking life and stop being a mediocre unnecessary annoying piece of anal.

Here's another problem with Instagram and Snapchat- relationships.

Holy fucking shit. We get it. You two are dating. We get it. You love him. We get it. You love her. You loved your Ex too. You still have fucking Instagrams from 37 weeks ago with them in it and look how well that worked out.

A huge problem with relationships today is that your significant other becomes who you're snap chatting about/ who you're tweeting about/ who you're instagramming with-

Your significant other becomes such a big part of your life that they become your life. Then, when you break up, you go back to having no life. This is why I'm sweaty and eat too much cheese: I have nothing and nobody to do.

I'm probably going to get yelled at for this blog post because people need to cry about when I use their names and whaa whahaha whaaa I can't take a joke- but I don't care. My blog has been pretty dry lately.

As I wrap up this blogpost I will tell all my readers about an adventure I will currently be embarking on for Spring Break. Most college students go to Florida to do mass amounts of cocaine and make mistakes, but I will be doing something different.

For my break, I plan on getting in my car, bringing a couple changes of clothes, a stick of deodorant, a guitar (so white and angsty I know), and just heading out. My phone will be off the entire time. The whole idea is to stop staring at my own phone screen and really see the world.

Hopefully I won't pussy out and I'll have an interesting time or something to actually write about for a change.

I will leave you all now with a picture of one of my ex-girlfriends.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

Atheistjustin, Single Father

My dad and step mom went away for a week on vacation. They needed someone to watch the kids for a few days. So, for a few designated days, I was a single father.

I got them up (or they woke me up), got them dressed, made them breakfast, drove them to school, picked them up, made dinner, changed diapers, and put them to bed.

I now understand why alcoholism exists.

Without heavy amounts of caffeine or alcohol, this mission would have been impossible- undoable.

But, I persevered and successfully filled the role as a single-dad for 2 whole days. While doing this, I managed to film some of it and compile it into one video.

If you're not a Facebook friend of mine for whatever reason, here's a YouTube link.

Take a look to watch a 19 year-old parent over a 7 year-old and a 2 year-old.

Sadly, there is no footage of the story I'm about to tell you.

My brother, Christopher, often called Topher or Tis, is 2. He's a dick.

My dad told me, before he left for vacation, that my brother usually doesn't shit at night and instead just pees.

He was wrong.

The first morning I woke up at 5:13am. Chris came over to me, finding me sleeping on the couch, and lied with me for an hour or so. I changed his diaper which was, indeed, just pee.

This did not happen again the next morning.

The following morning, this asshole woke me up by smacking me in the face. Hard.

I initially woke up in fear, ready to kill whoever was disturbing my slumber. Realizing it was a 2 year-old toddler, I apprehended my fist and put him on my chest to lie down.

Then I smelled something
A vile smell.
A horrible, disgusting scent came to my nose and I was screwed.

I've changed diapers before and I thought it wouldn't be that bad.
It was.

He shit everywhere. All over the diaper- his onesie- fucking everywhere.

I managed to wipe him down and take everything off, using about 68 wipes and 3 diapers. There was literally shit on his head. ON HIS HEAD.


After I got everything off him, I put him on the ground for a second. This was a mistake.

Apparently there was still shit on his foot. On his foot. He stepped on the carpet and now there was a shit-foot print.

I screamed "DON'T MOVE" and ran to the kitchen to find carpet cleaner. I couldn't. So I used laundry detergent and paper towels to clean up the shit foot.

I can only assume it was enough.

Finally I cleaned up the shit storm and eventually my sister woke up. I went to make them breakfast and put eggo waffles in the toaster. I walked away for 2 minutes and when I came back THE FUCKING POWER WAS OUT AND NOTHING IN THE KITCHEN WAS WORKING.


I asked my little sister if she knew where the fuze box was and she's 7 so you can already figure out her answer.  I searched around the house for like 10 minutes until finally finding it. Where? HER ROOM.

Fucking kids.

I flipped all the switches 15 times and there was beeping from the phone lines- screaming from the kids- and hysterical sobbing from me.

FINALLY- I found a switch marked 'kitchen' and flipped it off and on until by the sweet grace of Jesus' Nipple Hairs all the power came back on.

It wasn't even 7am.

I'm getting a vasectomy.

Who IS Atheistjustin?

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I am Never Wrong. I am Awesome. I do NOT eat ass.