The end of Bummer is a…er…bummer. It’s a bummer because now who are you going to look to to inject a little levity into life’s endless stream of args? Here’s an idea, why don’t you look to you?!?!?! You have the tools now, grasshopper, so go out there and make a joke to your own self about some guy flaking out on you or Mike Jackson dying (sidenote: that’s what Shell Terrific calls him) or your funputer giving up the ghost. Throw in a few extended metaphors that barely make any sense, sprinkle liberally with cool kid esoterica, and you’re all set. And if that’s not enough, go read Hipster Runoff or something. That guy’s a genius. So thanks to the tens of avid readers out there who laughed at our jokes and especially to the guest bloggers. Pax Americana, catch you guys in RL (real life). Not a bummer: finally, an actual photo of the bloggers (pictured).

Failed experiments are a bummer. Remember how your pretty young science teacher totally oversold that baking soda volcano thing? So like  lil eight year old you was sitting there rubbing your palms together expecting some kind of cartoon geyser to blow the roof off of Lake Garda Elementary? But then when shit actually went down, it ended up being this pathetic little underwhelming ooze out of the top of the thing, more like a dog drooling or whateverthefuck than the roiling ball of Saint Elmo’s fire you were hoping for? Yeah, turns out a lot of adult experiments work out like that too. Like filling an inflatable kiddie pool with malt liquor “just to see” is probably not going to be the party you envisioned, or loading up the jalopy with all your hopes and dreams and moving to California is probably gonna end with someone suckling a dying hobo instead of you making it in the pictures. Not a bummer: that hobo joke will never ever get old. Creepy bummer: how’d this terrifying fuck (pictured) get out of your REM cycle and into this blog?

Real World/Road Rules challenge is a bummer. It’s a bummer because, god, how old are these people participating in such humiliating events? There’s a guy on the current challenge from the original cast of Road Rules who probably has like 300 grandkids. Sure, the economy is bad, but the economy has had its ups and downs since 1879 when he first started going to tropical locations twice a year to try and win money by competing in challenges that have to be part of some socio-behavioral experiment. The worst part isn’t even the challenges or the one on one gaultlet/inferno whatevers or even the non-challenge segments where everyone gets drunk and makes out. No. The worst part is the interviews in which the contestants speak earnestly and intensely to the camera about the challenges and the one on one gauntlet/inferno whatevers and the non-challenge drinking and whoring. Every time that show is watched the universe loses a little bit of its soul. Reality show unbummer: Everything on Bravo.

*This guest bummer submitted by Betsy who is so freaking famous right now.**

**If you want to be as rich as Betsy, send your bummers to totalbumout@gmail.com.

When a bee gets in the room it’s a bummer. It’s a bummer because how did that happen? This place was sealed up like goddamn Fort Knox– screens on every window, all the doors locked, armed guards on round the clock bee watch– and yet somehow one of those lil fuckers managed to breech security. What kind of bootleg city has bees running around everywhere anyway? Didn’t they pave paradise so bees wouldn’t buzz in people’s ears and divebomb their heads when they’re trying to read the blogs? What it boils down to is that Jeff Goldblum was right in Jurassic Park when he said “nature will find a way.” He was referring to T-Rexes giving themselves a sex change (bottom surgery) so they could procreate, but still, it applies. Biggest unbummer of all time: Jurrassic Park. Tangentially related Jurassic Park unbummer courtesy of Molly: hold on to your butts.

Axe Body Spray is a bummer. It’s a bummer because the fact that it exists means that there are dudes out there who think that the ladies are cuckoo for coco puffs over musk-flavored manfume. True, perhaps there are a handful of girls who go apey when they catch a whiff of lacrosse player, but there are definitely many more who think that they only thing Axe is good for is spraying in your sister’s face in WalMart in order to start an epic Scent War that only ends when somebody is being held down and having an entire can emptied into her mouth. Huge dilemma bummer: What if you were at a dude’s house and you found some? Would you make fun of him and THEN leave, or would you leave right away and make fun of him at a later date? Decisions, decisions.

People who lack bridge etiquette are a bummer. You would think that people using the bridge would know to keep to the MOTHERFUCKING right. This is basically the most obvious statement ever made. It is so PAINFULLY clear that in America people stay on the right side of things that the founding fathers were gonna put it in the Constitution, but then someone (probs Hamilton, that dude was full of good ideas) was like, y’all, this is the biggest doye of life, let’s put in some more stuff about treason instead. But on the Williamsburg Bridge–forget it. People are so all over the place–keeping to the left, staying in the middle, walking shoulder to shoulder with their entire family so that getting past them is like a very aggressive game of Red Rover–that it’s actually less of a bridge and more of a factory for unmitigated anger, to the point that every time you’re about to run over it you’re like “Maybe this is going to be the day I finally hate crime someone.” Party time, excellent unbummer: Rave Un2 The Bridge Fantastic (see pic).

Nate Dogg’s weight gain is a bummer. It’s a bummer because holy shit dude weighs 850 lbs?! The last we heard from that guy he was cruising the LBC with Warren G. You know, just two normal-sized fellows picking up skirts on a Saturday night or whatever. Then 15 years later you flip on TLC and he’s turned into Gilbert Grape’s mom. Somebody get Johnny Depp in there to burn his house down. Tangentially related unbummer: Dog the Bounty Hunter has been known to say “Regulators! Mount up!” before going in to get a perp. Hilarious-looking unbummer: Dog’s wife Beth.

Having no friends is a bummer. When you move to a new city and only have like a few casual acquaintances you see at parties, it’s pretty all right at first. You finally have enough time to read all you want and listen to records and catch up on your thinking about genies without being made to go to brunch or a birthday circle jerk every two seconds. But then one day it dawns on you that you haven’t talked to another person in four days. And when an Asian baby says hi to you at the grocery store you’re so starved for human interaction that you find yourself unable to shut up all like “Hi! Omg is that lollipop from the bank? I LOVE bank lollipops. Your hair looks so great. Wanna go see the new Jim Jarmusch movie this week? I’ll facebook you!” And it’s like, get a hold of yourself, dude, bank lollipops are terrible. Adorable unbummer: Asian babies. Good parenting unbummer: that guy’s sammy (burger???) outfit.

Forgetting your blog’s birthday is a bummer. It’s a bummer because even though it was a total accident, your blog is going to get all offended like “How could you??????” and is then going to hold a grudge until YOUR birthday comes around, at which point your blog will pretend to forget all about it, as a long-awaited, passive-aggressive punishment for your slip-up. And then, to get your blog back, you have to not get it a Christmas gift, or skip its art opening or something, which will prompt it to never again compliment your new haircut, or to blow off your house warming party or whatever, and on and on and on til infinity. Cool out unbummer: Blogs aren’t people, get a grip. Belated blog birthday un-bummer: Happy one year (on May 5) b-day, Bummer. Thanks for yielding tens of laughs for people Google image searching “minotaur” and “pink eye.”

You’ve Got Mail is a bummer. The movie, that is, not the act of receiving a package via the U.S. mails, which totally rocks the Casbah, rocks the Casbah (the shareef don’t like it). It’s a bummer because it’s totally unrealistic. Not the premise that some kind of book store robber baron and a lady with a pixie cut could find love (opposites!!!). That is totally believable. In fact, weirder things happen approximately every second. No, the unrealistic part is that anyone was able to check their email in 1998 without their mom shouting up the stairs that she needed to use the phone. Or the whole thing getting interupted by an incoming fax. Cause the Internet like came on disks back then, BY MAIL. Wheels within wheels. Rock bottom bummer: in on a Saturday night watching You’ve Got Mail. Homesick bummer: even this shit makes your wittle heart break for New York. Casbah rocking unbummer: see above.