Unicorns & Dime Pieces

Part 9: Wrath

2011-11-17T22:04:00.002-05:00

Wrath

I AM NOT WRATHFUL, HOW DARE YOU FOR QUESTIONING THAT![1] I apologize for yelling, but it was the quickest way for me to explain what wrath was to the lay person. Although everyone who reads this is smart, so you knew what wrath was already and now we’re just all upset about the time we’ve wasted over defining wrath!

Wrath is not something I have experienced with much regularity. It may have something to do with being an emotional robot or it may have to do with my bottling up of emotions waiting for the cork to pop in the form of stomach ulcers. One day however the cork popped in a more “I want to punch my friend in the face” kind of way. I wanted to punch my friend in the face but what actually happened was I punched the grocery store fresh steak that was in his hand. For the record, I was aiming for the face. I only missed by 2 and a half feet.

I probably should have started at the beginning and explain why I was so mad.[2] I think I skipped that part because it makes me look irrational, irritable, and insane. It all started when I was hanging out with two of my friends, probably playing video games and drinking chocolate milk,[3] when my mom came home with the groceries. “Let’s go help bring stuff in,” I said. “OK!” said one friend. “Nope” said the other. The rage started to build. The good friend and I went out to the car to help my mother and grabbed a few bags. The bad friend came out and started talking to my mother which means now she’s not doing any work. Rage building! We got all the groceries inside and put away when the bad friend picked up a steak[4] that was thawing on the counter and invited himself over for dinner:

::insert the typed out version of what punching a steak sounds like::

I may have overreacted. That’s wrath for you. Once every 17 years I’m going to flip out and punch my future dinner. On a positive note, once every 17 years my dinner is going to be nice and tender.

As a a neat little wrap up (or should I say “wrath up[5]”) we have gotten over the “beating the meat” situation. Not all parties agreed on calling it that. The bad friend was and is my best friend although I have not talked to the good friend in years…which may make me the bad friend…which REALLY PISSES ME OFF!

[1] I am wrestling with the idea of writing this one in only in ALL CAPS.

[2] I blame Tarantino.

[3] I was 17.

[4] The steak! It’s all coming together…

[5] Please don’t EVER say that.

Part 8: Diligence

2011-10-09T20:57:00.002-04:00

Diligence

The fact that it took me even more time to write this than it did Sloth doesn’t bode well for me looking very diligent. Would you believe it took me so long to write because I was working so diligently in every other aspect of my life? I didn’t think so, but it was worth a shot.[1]

The main evidence that I am indeed diligent probably wouldn’t stand up in court: My favorite characters in Fraggle Rock were the Doozers. “Work the day away, play is for another day”. The diligentry’s[2] anthem. Seriously, was nobody else completely frustrated that the Fraggles were constantly EATING the Doozers’ homes and presumably their places of business?

Other than my empathy to hard working muppets in a kid’s program, diligence is apparent in many aspects of my life. It has to be. Where, you ask? I will tell you, just get off my back. You’re just stalling while you think of an example aren’t you, you say? Yes. Thank you for calling me on my BS.

As a kid, I was known best for being lazy, and second best for having fuzzy hair. But in the summer time something happened that turned me into a diligent worker bee. That event, which happened once a year, was garage sale season. My parents hated garage sales because to them it was a lot of work for very little payoff. Apparently to them, getting a nickel for a stuffed dog was not enough to wake up at 5 in the morning. For me, it was way more than enough reason. It was my chance to run my own little business for a day. I loved spreading out all of our junk in the basement with my multicolored circle stickers in hand. Old clock? Orange sticker, dollar twenty five. Happy Days board game that I played once? Blue sticker, twenty five cents.[3] McDonald’s mini beanie baby? Throw it in the dime box.

One year garage sale season was getting really close but I had heard nothing from the neighborhood organizers about the official date. I inquired about it to my mother and father of whom I had the utmost admiration and respect. With one fell swoop they dashed my dreams

Oh yea, I think we got something about that a while ago. We didn’t sign up

Sabotage! But guess what mom and dad[4] I have a Grandma and Grandpa who want to hire me to do a garage sale for them and they said I can bring my own stuff to sell too. Look at me creating lemonade out of lemons which I can totally sell at the garage sale for a high margin.

Some of you may be wondering how running a garage sale is an example of diligence. Do you know how much work it takes to convince your grandma that her old jars are only worth ten cents? Neither do I, she wouldn’t let me take less than fifty cents for them. So if you want one, they are still in her cellar.

Moral of the story: I woke up before dawn, put hundreds of stickers on junk, sat outside in the heat for hours negotiating on items that were already marked for pennies, and did it all for approximately 40 buck. Diligent? Check.

[1] If there WAS one person who believed I was being diligent elsewhere, I just ruined it with that concession.

[2] Diligentry: (noun) a people whom exude the qualities of diligence, totally not a made up word

[3] Bought it the year before at a garage sale down the street for ten cents. Profit!

[4] Not capitalized for a reason!

Part 7: Sloth

2011-07-24T20:01:00.000-04:00

Sloth

I learned what the word apathy meant around the age of 12. My mentor finally pinpointed a word that described me to a T.[1] Throughout my childhood I have typically been very good at doing things, but never bothered much to actually do them. In 8^th grade I had a lock on making the school basketball team. I knew the coach, he liked the way I played, and I had new basketball shoes that really made it feel like I could jump higher. The bad news though was that I got sick the day before tryouts. I was told I could stop by practice and tryout later which is the easiest make up test I had since missing a 3^rd grade spelling test.[2] It was SO easy that I decided to just not show up. I didn’t care enough to be the new Lebron James before Lebron James even existed. I decided it was much easier to just come home after school instead of running laps.

Although I have many examples of apathy and slothdom, choosing the best example is simple: I once slept for 23 straight hours. I’m not even sure sloths do that. Take that sloths, I beat you at your own game. I don’t really remember the circumstances that lead to the marathon nap, although not knowing many details has never stopped me from telling a story before.

As far as I know I was not sick, nor did I stay up the night before for some sort of rager. Although I was prone to the occasional rager as a 14 year old. I was very cool. Always partying. However this day was just a regular, sitting on the couch watching classic Looney Tunes, kind of day. I probably made macaroni and cheese for lunch, by which I mean my mom probably made me mac & cheese for lunch with some sort of item on the side to make it ‘balanced.’ I would have made it but that wouldn’t be very sloth like.

I remember that nothing very good was on tv so I closed my eyes circa 1 pm. I didn’t fall asleep with the intention of not waking up until the next day but greatness is rarely achieved on purpose.[3] The day then passed by around me while I rolled around, sound asleep, probably sleep passing gas, on the couch.

1:00pm-5:30pm was very easy. I slept like a baby, but like a really mature baby who doesn’t suck at sleeping. Somewhere around 5:30 I admit I woke up to turn off the tv. I don’t count this as cheating, I count it as an act of commitment. I didn’t need that tv distracting me from my dreams. I may have also went upstairs to grab a sandwich which added some cardio to my sleep adventure. This all took place in under 5 minutes, which in the world of sleeping means it doesn’t count as waking up. There were no more disruptions until noon the next day when I woke up to finish my macaroni and cheese and live out the rest of my life not caring about stuff.[4]

On a final note on being a sloth, it took me over 4 weeks to write this entry. It doesn’t look good for me.

[1] If I was described to a Tee, I would hope it was short sleeved.

[2] I probably can’t spell any of those words correctly now. Thanks a lot spell check.

[3] The light bulb was the result of Thomas Edison dropping a box of parts into another box of parts.

[4] I think at one point my mom came down to check if I was alive. I was, at least on the outside.

Part 6: Charity

2011-06-20T23:11:00.000-04:00

Charity

I just started thinking about this piece and I already know it’s going to make me look terrible. I have given money and time to many charitable causes including diabetes fundraisers, church childcare, and whatever those kids selling candy bars are raising funds for. I’m a sucker for a $1 door-to-door Nutrageous. I wouldn’t give to that kid unless he gives me candy for it, that’s the part that makes me look bad.

That’s the key to my charity contributions, something in return. It might seem like looking for a return on charity negates any good intentions. However, I would argue that the good intentions are doubled, maybe even multiplied by 3.2[1]. The charity gets my money or half a**ed volunteered time and I get a warm fuzzy feeling, or a girl to be impressed.

Things I’ve gotten “for charity”:

· Candy

· Cookies

· A concert ticket

· Executive Producer credit

· A “Beer Job”

· In a golf cart accident

· Dressed as a woman

· Suckered into singing Christmas Carols in an old folks home.[2]

Clearly I don’t care what I get in return as long as it’s SOMETHING. I think the hardest form of charity has to be giving change to the homeless. Part of it has to do with how tight jean pockets can be, but it mostly has to do with having to choose which homeless people will get your money. It’s impossible to give it to them all, but a few will see you when you decide their buddy Saul deserved your 38 cents and not them.[3]

It’s never just one homeless person asking you for money, there are always three to four staggered along the sidewalk . You have to do your market research. I usually step off the metro, count the change in my pocket, and look each one in the eyes (or eye depending on the street). I become like a middle school girl when choosing, that is, very shallow. If the homeless person hasn’t taken the time to make a cardboard sign, or learn how to drum on a garbage can, I’m probably not interested.

The worst decision I ever made was walking back to my apartment, I spotted a homeless poet who was a shoe in to get my 75 cents that was leftover from my trip to the beef jerky aisle of 7-11. I did not notice however the 2 other homeless folks I was about to pass. I got caught off guard when they asked for spare change that I said “sorry, I don’t have any.” I had some. It’s the easiest way to get out of giving monetary help to people who need monetary help. If you’re into that kind of thing. I forgot though, that as soon as I give Hobo Robert Frost his money that the other two would probably realize that I was a jerk. But hopefully they realized they should just learn a marketable skill. America!

One time I gave a guy a couple bucks without looking at him first and then realized he was wearing nicer clothes than I was. He had on a nice pea coat and scarf, with boots that looked like they were from J Crew. I had on a hoodie from 2003 and flip flops because I forgot real adults wear socks in February. In hindsight, he might have just been waiting for the bus to go home after work. Well done on finding a job, hobo joe! But poor form not giving me my money back. How about a little charity for CT the cold toe hobo?

[1] There are no numbers involved in good intentions. It’s all very subjective.

[2] The Figgie pudding was not worth it.

[3] Saul actually sounds like a well off guy, I’m not good at making up hobo names. I’m no John Hodgeman.

Part 5: Greed

2011-05-21T21:05:00.001-04:00

Greed

Apparently greed is one of the 7 deadly sins. Who knew? I thought it was written into the Bill of Rights as an American virtue. Something to look forward to after working hard to become successful or at least after your credit card application is approved.

As a kid I didn’t really know the extent of what was considered greed. I did know that I wanted the new Stretch Armstrong and I wanted it now. I would have gotten ninety Stretch Armstrongs if I could have. But I couldn’t because my parents would continually forget to pay me an allowance. It worked out though because I would continually forget to do any chores until there was a shiny quarter in my palm. If you think that’s rude, then I suggest you take your pro-slavery attitude elsewhere.

Stuff was THE coolest as a kid. It was not important what the stuff was or if the stuff was any fun to play with. Had to have that stuff. Fill my closet to the brim with stuff. Especially if that stuff had stuff that stretched way further than a normal human being’s stuff.[1] All kids love stuff, but the truly greedy kids collect. And I collected. Not something nerdy like butterflies, bottle caps, or some other lame thing that starts with b. (Barbie dolls? Beanie Babies? Barnacles?) I collected Baseball cards. The king of “b” collectibles. Baseball cards are the perfect function of greed. Not only are they considered to be “stuff” but they also appreciate in value earning you future dividends.

“I’m skeptical about their true value” says Nancy Naysayer. “Aren’t they just shoeboxes full of cards that nobody will buy” states Nancy’s husband Nedward. I’m telling you the truth, there is money in cards and if you have shoeboxes full of crap you are bad at collecting (or rather good at collecting if quantities of crap is your end game). I am good at collecting. At the age of 12, I sold one single baseball card for $250 dollars. At 12, earning $250 is like at the age 24, winning 3 months of free 6 packs of 12oz beer or its cash equivalent.[2] I was saving money to buy a 13[3] inch TV/VCR combo. Needless to say I quickly spent all my money on stuff. Probably on Playstation games I had to play on some poopy tv that didn’t even have a VCR built in.

My parents did not support my greed habit very much. They either already knew greed was a deadly sin or they just didn’t like “shoeboxes full of cards nobody will buy.” But one time my mom came through for me. We hopped in the car, allegedly going to go run some errands. Errands running was a favorite activity of mine so she did not have to twist my arm to go along with her. When we stopped at a hotel and not the beauty supplies store I knew something was up. We got out and my mom dropped the good news: She had heard there was a baseball card convention in town and it was in the hotel! A special trip for her special boy. I was giddy with excitement. And then it got even better. She handed my several crisp, clean, freshly minted twenty dollar bills. I thought I was dreaming. Could this get any better?! “You have to pay me back whatever you spend.”

That’s pretty greedy mom.

[1] I know what you’re thinking but it IS healthy to love Stretch Armstrong this much

[2] I’ll cut down on the use of numbers now. I’m not a math class.

[3] Sorry, last number, promise.

Part 4: Temperance

2011-05-08T20:57:00.000-04:00

Temperance

I don’t feel good about this entry helping to make me look like a good boy. Not because I don’t embody the essence of temperance, but because I don’t really know what temperance means. A quick Google helped a little. It basically means controlling one’s urges. So feel free to read the chastity entry again, should be pretty much the same thing.

No? You want something new? Tough crowd.

I guess the thing I’m best at controlling about myself is my emotions. Some people would say that’s because I don’t have any emotions.[1] I would say I just take temperance very seriously. It’s my favorite virtue, one I totally knew about before now. I suppose its true though. My 6^th grade basketball team was in a tournament. It was a basketball tournament. It would have been weird if my basketball team was in a different kind of tournament. My basketball team was in a jousting tournament. There was 3 seconds left in the game. Depending on who you talk to it was either the championship game, a game to get in the championship game, or the third place game. Super important detail. Guess what happened? I made the game winning, last second basket. The crowd went wild!! My team went wild!! I walked slowly and quietly off the court.

I suppose most folks would shout with joy, jump up and down, or at least fist pump like a champ. I’m not most people. I’m temperant. Maybe temperate. At the very least im temper.[2]

I’ve been called an emotional robot. I’m pretty sure they meant I lack emotions, like a robot. But I suppose they could mean a robot with mood swings. That’s much more scary to me. Thanks a lot Isaac Asimov, you’ve given the robots one too many ideas.

The greatest evidence of my temperance: Short entry. You’re welcome.

[1] Some people = my ex-girlfriends.

[2] Maybe temporary, temp worker, or even temporal.

Part 3: Gluttony (What's a glootun?)

2011-05-01T21:10:00.003-04:00

Gluttony

Its not going to help my case much that I’m currently eating a ½ pound hot pocket while writing this. That’s more pounds than a usual hot pocket. Not sure what the normal poundage is, but I know I feel several pounds heavier after every bite.

Gluttony is probably going to be the biggest hit against my goal of being seen as a good boy. I’m not even going to get into my past as a chubby little boy. I don’t like to talk about it. Mostly because it was a lonely time due to the fact that my boobs were generally the same size as most of the girls’ boobs in my grade. And I killed a bee by accident with my ab flab while eating cake at a pool party. It’s hard to sleep with that kind of guilt on the mind.

I’d like to say that now that I’m skinny and super-hot I have changed my eating habits for the better. But it’s worse. No matter how many of my friends tell me soy milk is better for me and tastes better too I will continue dunking full sleeves of Oreos into, at a minimum, 2%, right from the cow’s teet, milk.[1]

My biggest temptation, I’m fairly sure, is a hereditary condition handed down from my mother. Donuts. Doughnuts. Deauxnoughts. I don’t know how it’s spelled. I do know it tastes like a little slice of fatty heaven. My mom would agree. Although she has been D Nut sober for years now, she was off the wagon hard in her day. Picture a kitchen table. Now picture 6 Krispy Kremes on that table. Now picture a cat in the corner, just for atmosphere. In a matter of an hour, five donuts have been eaten and I am taking the 6^th. As I go to take a bite, ::snatch::, my mom takes it from out of my mouth and swallows it down. Gone. I would go on to perform that move years later on a box of lil chocolate donuts and an unsuspecting friend. I still can’t control myself around a chocolate frosted Tastycake donut.

Gluttony is manifested in me by not the amount of food I eat[2] but the lengths I will go just to get my hands on some and how happy it makes me to have it. In elementary school I was the “oh it fell on the ground? Just give it to Chris” kid. It’s not the best kid to be in school, but at least I wasn’t the smelly one or the nose picker. At least not in public. I’m not sure I knew the 5 second rule existed. All I knew was nobody else was going to eat that slice of turkey and my mom didn’t pack enough protein. Plus, now that I had turkey, I could trade my PB&J for a pudding cup or maybe the pepperoni from the rich kid’s pizza Lunchables.

I eat a lot. I like to eat. Sometimes I dance when I eat or even talk a little dirty to my food. If you’ve seen me eat bacon, you’ve seen me talk dirty to bacon. At the very least you’ve heard rumors that the bacon is “going to get it.” This doesn’t necessarily mean I’m not a good boy. It just means I love food. It’s actually noble. I don’t let food go to waste, and I respect it. How dare somebody throw away Domino’s CinnaStix. I’ll save you from the trash can. Bring along your half empty friend Dipping Sauce.[3]

[1] My parents ruined whole milk for me. They just stopped buying it. My cereal has suffered ever since.

[2] Not to say I won’t eat a full pizza if it’s in front of me or have a half gallon of ice cream for dinner.

[3] True story.

Part 2: Chastity

2011-04-23T22:05:00.000-04:00

Chastity

Im fairly certain this will be a strong case for me being “good.” There’s nothing more pure than sexual purity. Pure is right there in the name. (I wanted to include a list of other things with pure in the name but it was not as easy of a Google search as I had hoped). I have spent most of my life being chaste. It’s very easy to do in the early years. Kids aren’t very sexy, first off. Although, when I was in elementary school the girls loved me. I had a buzz cut, which girls go wild for. They want to just feel the crap out of it. I, however, was not a fan of cooties. Nor was I a fan of the nickname Fuzzy Wuzzy. So I ran. I ran and I ran (a strategy I still use on occasion today). That’s being pretty chaste. Literally running from temptation. Even if the chase somehow made the girls like me more, and I was kind of into being wanted (a feeling I still very much enjoy).

I never even kissed a girl until I was legally an adult.[1] As an adult I have a reputation for being very pure. Up on a pedestal even. While a lot of folks in college receive the label of whore or slut, only I am pure enough to get the label ironically. I was a cuddle whore. It’s the most adorable way to be a slut and you don’t have to wear a condom. Although you could, nobody would know.

It didn’t start all at once. I wasn’t just finding strangers on the corner to cuddle with. Certainly not for money. (I do wonder what I could have charged). To begin, I had the same set of friends for most of my college career. Then one semester most of them decided to go study abroad. So since they were out finding themselves, I needed to find somebody to replace them. Not figuratively, I’m not that creative. I literally replaced my friends, specifically 4 girls who left, with another group of 4 girls. How convenient I thought, its like the other ones never left! They didn’t even mind being called The Replacements.

The only difference between The Replacements and my friends was that The Replacements hadn’t been in the friend zone for long. Without friend zone exposure, attraction is deadly. I ran through that group like a bulldozer. But like a really gentle bulldozer who likes to hold hands and share blankets. Being the chaste person I am, I bailed.[2] Still friendly with them of course, but I needed something else. I wasn’t looking for a casual cuddle, I needed a friend.

I moved on to another group of 4 girls. I clearly don’t learn lessons quickly, and it doesn’t help most people live in 4 bedroom apartments on campus. Moral of the story: cuddle, cuddle, scared away by overly aggressive dance floor behavior. The 4^th new Replacement was already a cuddle causality during my vulnerable moments after my first real break up. I did bail on her. No arguments there. Back to the overly aggressive dance floor behavior. I’m not going to get too into it, but first thing on my list of characteristics I look for in a friend is “ability to not put my fingers in her mouth during nelly’s hot in here.” I also never believed her when she said the tv in the common room was broken, but the one in her bedroom was fully functional but it only works if our shirts are off. I only fall for that trick if I’m in love.

There were a few other uninteresting cuddles in the mix, including one in a hammock, one in front of another cuddle victim, and an engaged girl also in front of another victim. Nothing interesting there. I definitely picked the right stories to tell.

In the end, I didn’t have sex with any of those girls which means nobody was emotionally scarred when my affections turned away from them. That’s my memory and I’m sticking to it.

[1] Yet I had a girlfriend in middle school. More evidence of how chaste I am. The chastiest!

[2] I say I bailed, but other sides of the story may involve me falling for a Replacement. That replacement transferring schools/bailing on me. Tomato Tomato.

Blog Series Part 1: Lust

2011-04-16T15:43:00.001-04:00

This weekly blog series is an attempt to see if I am a good boy or bad boy by telling stories following 7 deadly sins and 7 virtures. Help me decide.

LUST

This is the good stuff. I know what the reader wants. Sex, boobies, and other things I know very little about. I have a feeling my mom is not going to like this part. Though she will tell me she likes it, and that she’s proud of me. It’s lol’s of love.

The first boobs I ever saw were in a dream. Later in life I became very proud of myself for dreaming those boobs so accurately. Without knowing what they looked like, I came up with a pretty spectacular pair in my mind. She was my middle school French teacher. I am fairly sure she doesn’t know I have seen her breasticles. Mostly she just taught me how to say clock and trash can. Neither of which I said when I visited France.

That was my first experience with lust that I can remember and it happened in my subconscious. It’s since moved into my consciousness, which sucks, because now its my fault. Lust is often a negative, but everything has its silver lining. For me, that lining is not being lonely at college. Not in a slutty way Mr. Gutter Mind. Lust, or attraction, was the single element that forged my best friendships as a freshman.

The time, 2005. The place, Washington College student center. It was an acoustic guitar player or a comedian. Something during the first week to show the new freshman that fun can be had without alcohol. I was sitting in a chair, all of them filled. I felt a presence behind me. A female presence. She needed a chair and I had a chair and no friends. Perfect. I could be a gentleman and meet a female who I could fall in love with and get married to. College is great! Unfortunately we didn’t get married because she was a redhead. It’s not my thing. She did however invite me over for a game of twister with some friends of hers. I could not turn down getting intertwined with females in a competition, hair color prejudice or no. College is great!

I was the only guy at the twister party, with 6 girls who would become some of my best friends. Only 2 of them had red hair. I didn’t take advantage of the game of twister. I never went for the rarely spun “right hand on breast” or “left hand on butt.” I was still playing the gentleman role. It was Jess, Kate, Erin, Faith, Carla, and Kali. Jess was bisexual, or what I would later find out meant “I’m a lesbian, but I dated boys so my parents wouldn’t know about the lesbian thing.” Lesbian or not, she was into me. Our senses of humor were exactly the same, that is to say we were both hilariously clever. If senses of humor could sex, ours would be hot and it would birth tiny joke kids with nice boobs and a great smile (I’ll let you guess which comes from her and which comes from me).

Kate is one of my best friends. I hated her. She would not stop talking. Eventually I realized that what she had to say was interesting and smart. At the time it sounded like “blah like blah blah like, blah you know?” She also has really sweet boobs. I could probably write plenty more on that subject. She knew they were nice, and used them to tease me but also to get free Dunkin’ Donuts at 2 in the morning. So we all won.

Erin is what the kids would call my bff during college. I was a kid then and so was she, so we both called ourselves bff. I don’t remember a lot about her that night. She was fairly quiet but at the end of the night we both knew if I didn’t have a girlfriend already (didn’t I mention that? I had a girlfriend throughout my freshman year) we would probably be making out already and planning our future.

Faith was nerdy in a cute kind of way. I’m going to say she was into me. There’s no way to prove she wasn’t, unless you ask her. So don’t ask, let me have this.

Carla was the redheaded host. So no lust there.

Kali didn’t play twister with us, she was Carla’s roommate. She did not have red hair and she loved Dane Cook. I didn’t know he sucked yet, so she was cool. She had a boy who came to visit her. Probably he was there because he lusted after her. Carla also had a boy who came to visit her. He was into redheads. I didn’t say a word to these two guys. Not one single word.[1]

I was drawn to this twister party by a girl, promising other girls would be present and that they would be bending and twisting on colored circles. I stayed because the girls were fun, smart, and had nice features for me to look at. We became best friends because we figured that at some point close proximity might mean we could do the sex. We never did. Maybe we did in our minds a few times, but that doesn’t count. It’s not like having sex in your mind is a bad thing. There’s not even a word for that as far as I know.

[1] They became my roommates for 3 years and best friends. All because we shared a liking for some specific female bodies.

Blog Series (Which A Publisher Will Read and Buy to Make a Book)

2011-04-09T21:46:00.003-04:00

I am working on being more disciplined with my writing. So I have decided to write a manageable entry a week, with a theme and structure. (one that would be marketable mrs. publisher lady). This is the start of that.

Preface

My grandpa would always ask me, “how’s my good boy?” I would always say “good” because I’m clever. Plus I’ve always indeed viewed myself as a good boy. Later in his life my grandpa started losing his health but not his sense of humour[1]. Instead of asking if I’m a good boy like a caring grandparent, he would ask me if I wanted to hear a joke. He didn’t deliver his normal joke, the kind of joke he would tell a nurse in one of his visits to the hospital when she told him she was about to draw blood: where’s your red crayon. Instead, the punch line WAS that I was a good boy. Like he was saying the opposite, that I am not a good boy. Never has an old man’s laughter made me feel so conflicted. On one hand, great joke grandpa. You had me going for 20 years. That’s Andy Kaufman like commitment[2].

On the other hand (It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous) It made me contemplate whether or not I was a good boy. The only way for me to be sure is to recount tales of my youth and have the reader decide if I am good or bad. It’s not going to be boring like the Heptaméron, but one thing will be similar; I will not actually complete 100 tales, which is the benchmark for good writing. I’m a quitter just like that quitter Marguerite De Navarre who took the easy way out and decided to die before finishing her work.

A more manageable number is 14, one story for each 7 deadly sin and one for each of the 7 virtues that Catholics made up because they like their milk to fill up half the glass. The only problem with this structure is, I can’t remember a lot of what happened in my lifetime. I have decided to just go ahead and write out my stories with the subjective memories I contain, and supplement them with memories that may or may not be more accurately called lies. I realize lying to you probably leans the scale in favor of bad boy (which is ok because girls love bad boys) but I’m confident this will turn out good for me. If nothing else, I will have wasted a lot of time writing something that proves me a terrible person and everybody I love will abandon me. But I won’t be doing drugs and THAT is good.

[1] I’ve always wanted to be British

[2] Commitment is one of my biggest fears. I even had to have a friend write that part for me. It won’t appear again

I Want to be a Hipster

2011-03-16T22:51:00.005-04:00

I want to be a hipster. But I don't know how to do it, and its kind of fatiguing. I've spent a lot of time almost pulling the trigger on hipsterdom. Just little bits of ironic action peppered into my life.

Maybe it never quite stuck because I don't know what irony is. How dare you Alanis Morrisette.

Hipsters make conscious decisions on every detail of life down to what bands to like and what t-shirt to wear. I usually just choose whatever shirt has the least amount of wrinkles and doesn't smell like last Friday. I have tried to dress with purpose. My first memory of making fashion choices not based on location in a laundry pile was when I was 11. I bought 4 band t-shirts of bands I knew nobody else had heard of, all of them black (the shirts, not the bands). They replaced my then favorite t-shirt: an artsy Pillsbury Doughboy tee. It was actually probably more hipster than the band tees if I would have worn it ironically, but nay, i was just a fan.

::poke:: mmm hmmm

It was great. The shirts were ambiguous, music related, and one had a big wheel on it. Hipster triumvirate. But I soon found out that even band tees get wrinkly on the floor. Welcome back lesser of two wrinkly evils fashion economy.

Recently I have been getting back into the action. After years of boycotting them, I have started wearing boxer briefs and v-neck shirts. I don't even know if boxer briefs are in the hipster repetoire...I just wanted you to know I wear them. V necks are surprisingly freeing. I assumed my lower neck was destined to be hidden. Somehow a lower class body part like that spot behind the knee that doesn't even have a name. But it's out in the open now, and it's kind of sexy.

But alas, V necks get wrinkly too. Maybe I will never be a hipster. For no other reason than being a hipster probably means doing a lot of laundry, and who has the time?

Old Folks Home? Neato!

2011-02-24T22:32:00.000-05:00

It came up in conversation the other day that it wouldn't be so bad living in a retirement home. It's like going to college all over again:

Cafeteria food and soft serve ice-cream.
Most of the day is spent watching tv or playing ping pong.
If you're lucky you get a single. If you're not, you're living w/ a stranger who probably won't clean up after themselves.
You have to take tests. Only now they're mostly blood and diabetes related.
You can nap whenever, wherever.
No parents!! (or really any visitors)
Every year 1/4 of your friends leave :( <--- they die, aka life's graduation.

All in all I'd say it'll the best last 4 years of your life.

2011-02-22T20:41:00.002-05:00

This is the first time I have not written the title first. It feels a little weird. Like, I don't have anything telling me what to talk about. So I might just not talk at all.

It's a blog, you've never done any talking here.

There are few things I enjoy better than getting a lot of "likes" on Facebook. Whenever I need some self-confidence I can just look back at that time I got 7 "likes" for my thoughts on what kangaroo jerky tastes like. (It tastes like jerky, and there is no way I got 7 likes for that.) A like on Facebook is really just somebody saying

"I'm not a good enough friend to post a comment, but i support your thoughts on the subject."

I've noticed recently that Facebook's news feed is programmed to display mostly updates from friends you spend the most time interacting with. Its a nice feature, but now my feed is littered with posts from the hot girl from high school who recently added photos from her trip to the beach. <-- and updates from my mom, so its a weird mixture of emotions. Mostly lust and guilt. <<---Not lust towards my mom, resulting in guilt...but the bikini pictures...you get it.

**Disclaimer** All lustful thoughts are have been fabricated for the storytelling purposes of my blog. My real newsfeed is filled with, still my mom, my bff, my other bff, and for some reason my bffl.

**DoubleDisclaimer** I do not refer to my friends as bff or bffl...although I do verbalize bffl as biffle on occasion.

Goodnight. Not writing a title first may have been a terrible decision.

Love you.

Fox, Megan. Naked.

Nap Time is the Best Time

2011-02-20T20:24:00.002-05:00

Napping has been one of my premier talents as a human being. It's probably been top 5 for at least 23 of my 24 years. (It was pushed to #6 when "having acne and no girlfriends" was top of the list)

Other appearances in the top 5 talents: Math (not fractions), Owning Pillsbury Doughboy T-shirts (2 of them, circa the year 2000), following orders, designing sneakers (circa 1998-99)<---if you find any drawing notebooks of mine don't open them or else you will be overwhelmed with creative awesomeness.

I have had the ability to fall asleep in the middle of the day in any location. I've fallen asleep in the shower. Which is very dangerous and any kids reading this should never try to fall asleep in the shower. Although if you're very tired and don't fear death by drowning, shower sleep it up. Its relaxing and warm. In Europe, I napped by nearly all the famous landmarks. Chip is writing a book entitled something like "A EuroTrip Guide to Napping." Sneak preview: There is a tiny park near British Parliment with a fountain that will put you to sleep with its ambient noise. Caution: tiny children will be running around.

My biggest accomplishment as a napper happened circa (clearly i love the word circa. I could have said 'around" 'about' 'approximately') 2001. I had nothing to do, I had stayed awake for most of the night before, and I went down for a nap at 3:30. I woke up at 2:30. Impressive nap, 11 hours. BUT WAIT. It was the next afternoon. 23 hour nap! But that's just sleeping says skeptical friend or internet stranger. Its a nap, I had pants on.

Back to circa. What are the rules? I know circa is used for decades, ie the black plague happened circa 1390's (don't fact check). It can be used for years. But I used it the other day to describe something that happened approximately 4 minutes ago. AKA "Oh yea, he just left circa 5:46" Probably not valid.

Than tragedy struck. Not circa related tragedy, but naps again. I have been having unsuccessful naps lately. Like, I just don't sleep. I wanted to sleep. But I wasn't asleep. I did close my eyes for 2 and a half hours which is similar but something is missing. I don't know what is missing but I am trying to find out. Today I was too hot to sleep...but I removed no clothing. One less pair of pants or one less hooded sweatshirt would have worked. I just didn't do that. So basically my first theory for why I can't nap:

Laziness. I can't sleep because of laziness. Sound theory, but cruel irony.

End of blog. MFN.

Notes of Self-Conscious Writer

2011-02-11T23:31:00.002-05:00

Getting drunk and writing is probably not a good idea unless you plan on being a famous author...than it might just work out. I'm worried that drinking and writing may lead to me saying things I would never want on the internet.

I did poop my pants in 1st grade. I did pretend I didn't. Nobody bought it.

I worry that I'm not actually funny. Sure, I got 3rd place in a comedy compeition once...I also chose the judges, ran the event, and approved each performer. Lock for 1st place right? Nope. 3rd. At least the winner used a song I wrote to win, that counts in horseshoes and/or hand grenades.

I haven't gotten on stage in over a year. I have several pages worth of "jokes" but not enough confidence to tell them for 3 minutes in front of strangers who are in the bar just for the 1/2 priced appetizers.

I'm getting fat, bald, and for some reason stupid. This has nothing to do with being a writer...but everything to do with being self-conscious. Rogaine is nice. I use it on the daily. But so far the best defense for baldness is not cutting my hair.

Buzz cut = crying myself to sleep for 3 days

The secret I keep is, I'm actually super confident in myself. For the most part, Im too confident in myself. I assume the hottest girls will fall for, and marry me. I assume I will at some point write the best movie since Strange Brew. <---yes, that is my barometer. And I assume one day I will have a chapter in a comedy book written about me that says I was "intellectual, edgy, and fresh."

all of that after I land on the moon, solve AIDS, and create a Chapstick that you can't lose.

I just read the beginnning of this blog over again and its sounds way more sad than I am. I'm ridiculously happy with my life. I have a job, 1. I get to spend time writing about pooping my pants, 2. And I have 47 followers on this blog, over 800 on Twitter, and get "liked" on FB like its my job.

And if there's anything I have learned in this life, it's that you should let social media dictate how popular you are.

Megan Fox is the most naked.

Todd Family Discipline

2011-01-23T22:23:00.002-05:00

There were very few instances when my sister or I had to be disciplined. I think my parents believed in spanking, but I don't remember it happening. I was forced to spend some time in my room...not sure why, maybe I didn't eat my brussel sprouts?

Actually, my family had brussel sprouts only once. My mom ate one, hated it, and refused to let us kids have them.

The only formal rules we had were for at the dinner table. We all came up with the list together. No elbows on the table, no dessert before dinner, don't kill a tree. <<---that last one was mine, because I'm progressive.

I totally went outside and ripped a branch in half during dinner once. Felt ashamed for years.

The only time anyone truly gets yelled at is when we drop the "p" word. It is a word you WILL NOT hear in my household, even now that we're all grown. Peanut. Seriously, don't bother asking for the peanut butter, we won't respond. If you need something to spread on your jelly and bread, its penis butter you ask for, or you will hear about it. Penis butter M&Ms, penis butter and jelly, a bowl of honey roasted penis. This is how we talk. All because one time my grandma said "peanit" which sounds an awful lot like penis (it also sounds an awful lot like peanut, but that's not how we roll) so it stuck.

Its still awkward asking the girl scouts for 4 boxes of penis butter tagalongs.

It may seem juvenile, but its really deeper than that. Just like how we replace the subject of songs with the word poop when we sing. Not mandatory like penis, but still fun.

MFsansclothes

Dating Strategies of a Sinlge Man

2011-01-16T22:18:00.002-05:00

Its a weird day when you realize its been over a year since your last girlfriend. I say "your" but I mean me. It's like when somebody says they have a "friend" who can't stop selling crack, but its really them. and its heorine. and they're using.

get back on track please

Its been, depending on which break up counted, somewhere between 12-16 months of being single. It depends, because as anybody in love under the age of 25 knows, the first one never sticks. During that time I have discovered several strategies I employ to find my future wife. <<---yep, that's how i go into it. looking to wife up at all times, not at all weird.

These are my findings, in chronological order:

Strategy 1: Time Travel

There is something inherent in breaking up with somebody that leads to one thing, trying to rekindle something from the past. In my case I have only had one other girlfriend, who deservedly so hated my guts ("although I may have read that hatred wrong" says present day Chris who is on friendly terms with said first love) so I had to settle for kindling.

Hey best friend in college, we flirted a lot for several years, let's go out. It won't be weird.

Rejection. it was weird. (and sad)

Strategy 2: Friend of a Friend

What better way to prove you still have somethig to offer than to meet a lovely lady through a friend. I recomend having the first meeting at an ugly sweater party. She won't know that's really how you dress for weeks. This strategy may have worked, had i not been scared off by her asking me out. I'm looking for a wife, not a commitment to a long term relationship.

Oh and she's 6 years my elder

I just now realized I ended this one. Oops. Rejection

Strategy 3: Europe (aka Peacocking with my american wiles and baby blues)

I had clearly run out of opportunities in my own country. So its on to somebody who can't tell if Im slow witted or if my brilliance is just lost in translation. **Note, more time travel if you have friends abroad** This is a good way to meet really attractive girls who are fun and possibly smart. Unfortunately, living thousands of miles away and not remembering their names is a terrible way to start a relationship. <<--the vows would be embarrasing like right away

No rejection, let's just blame it on physical constraints of the universe. (ok a little rejection. You know who you are plane friend who watched toy story 2 with me and then never friended me on FB)

Strategy 4: Hours of eye contact

Bars. America's little love generators. This is not a straegy for the bold, but one for the timid, quiet, and shy bladdered. You see a cute girl at the bar, don't go up to her and buy her a drink. That's amateur hour. Just glance over at her every couple of minutes and shoot her a sheepish smile. Like seriously, every couple of minutes, for hours. Not creepy, endearing. 75% success ratio. Success here is defined by having the girl either come talk or deliberatly make her way near you as if to say "let's take this to a verbal level of flirt".

Rejection (by me). 2 outcomes, I get too nervous to say anything and its over immediately or I get a number and its over eventually when I am too scared to call. (sometimes I text, apparently not as ok as a phone call)

Strategy 5: Digital Funny Flirting

This one is nice because there is no pressure, and you can think about what to type for like a really long time and be clever and stuff without having any sentences that just drag on with little to no real meaning.<<--You see what i did there? Digital flirting is emotionally satisfying because you get to flirt, with a girl! and she flirts back! Bananas! Downside is, its digital, and digital flirting tends to escalate quickly to a point where a real relationship would not go.

I have said I love you, proposed, and planned to move to a new city, all over Twitter

All that would be awesome, if there was a way to upload it into the real world. Tough to go on a first date after proposing. Do I go in for the kiss goodnight or take her on a honeymoon?

In progress

This is where there would be a concluding paragraph about how much I have learned and how Im sure I will meet that person who will want to tolerate me the rest of my life.

Mega Foxtrot Naked

Fringe: Comedy Inspiration

2010-11-11T21:01:00.002-05:00

I decided to blog while I watch Fringe tonight. I'm not going to write about Fringe, or things Fringe makes me think about, but it will totally be in the background. (Actually, I love Fringe so maybe this blog will be in the background while I watch Fringe.)

You can't tell, but i definitely zoned out just now while some crazy ish went down

Last night was Trivia night at the bar. A chance to showcase my sports, movies, and being a man knowledge. My biggest answer of the night: Who was Daddy Warbucks' bodyguard? Punjab. Not only did I get to show off how important Annie was to my childhood...but i also got to say something kind of racist. BONUS!

Something not as racist, but slightly more random: Im going to shave my neck beard tonight. But keep it on the down low, i would hate for my coworkers to find out I dropped out of No Shave November. They will never know. I work in an office of blind folks. The dress code is flexible, but i can't read any of the employee handbooks.

It was a quiet first three weeks until i realized sign language was for deaf people. <--not a good way to make friends.

Who would design a pulse to give people amnesia? (Ok so i let a little Fringe sneak in..)

Time to focuse on TV, like an adult. Later crocodile.

MeFoNa

The Post About Nothing

2010-10-24T22:07:00.005-04:00

I am having an internal struggle about whether to write this post about Jerry Seinfeld or literally leave it blank and write nothing. I already ruined the blank thing by typing, but I also have nothing to say about Seinfeld.

What's the deal with that.

I've been studying a lot of comedy, because im a nerd, and have been finding in my readings that most qulaity comedians always have something to say. He's smart. She's clever. He/She is really shaking things up. <<--that last one might be Eddie Izzard.

I don't want to shake things up with comedy. Isn't there a famous comedian who advocates the "comedy of contentment." Maybe things out there aren't so bad. Why satirize when things are great!

Isn't weird how I get to eat three meals a day and go to work in the morning. Zing!

Maybe that doesn't work. But jokes still don't have to have substance to be real, to be a joke. There are things in this world that are just funny for funny sake: poop, bromances, and a pig in glasses. <---adorable, he thinks he's smart.

I'd like to keep going with this, but I have nothing to say. (and Im sleepy)

Megan Fox sans clothes.

Off Limits

2010-10-17T22:57:00.004-04:00

There are several things I have leanred from comedians:

1. There's something off about you if you do comedy.

2. No matter how intellectual you are, you will have a penis joke.

3. No topic is off limits.*

*in theory

Every comedian will tell you, its important that no topic is off limits. But I am here to tell you there are exceptions. Im not talking about handicap and disease jokes, they're hilarious <--- am i right mom's lupus?

For me there are two topics that are off limits: my government intelligence job and my ex girlfriends.

One for reason of legality and national security...the other for reasons of nothing the law or state could do to protect me from a woman scorned. I have actually had to promise each of my exes that I would never write a joke about them...and until they made me promise that, i didn't realize I even had any material there.

My ex-girlfriend walked into a bar...

I have tried to write a joke or two about my relationships past, but it usually just ends in nostalgic tears and ice cream <---in my defense, the ice cream would have happend either way. (and the crying?) The only jokeable things to happen in my relationships are things that make me look ridiculous and what's the fun in that?

My third kiss was my first kiss because i was too scared to know the first two happened.

See, not fun. True, but not fun.

Maybe someday when Im rich and famous from comedy [that happens right?] I will be able to look back and write a sitcom based on my relationship history where the names will be changed and nobody will get angry. and the show will be called Lanky Love Stories.

It will only last 2 episodes...because, well, you know. There's no love for the lanky.

bye bye. (MFN)

**Dear you, who i promised to not write jokes about, this doesn't count right? Don't be mad. Let's still be friends. Its all a compliment, really.

ComedyInitials the Movie: Back in Action

2010-10-11T23:14:00.003-04:00

I realized this morning that I react the same way to anybody who shares bad news with me.

that sucks, im sorry.

You spilled BBQ sauce on your 4 year old cargo shorts, that sucks. and im sorry. You just found out you have AIDS and your cat died; that sucks, im sorry. In no way should the fact that it sucks you stained your shorts affect that getting AIDS also, in addition to, sucks. Both situations fall under the definition of sucking.

Webster's: Suck - ADJ - To not be good, as in, the opposite of doesn't suck.

[dear Webster, didn't anybody ever teach you not to use the word in its definition]

Sucks is the only word I know to use to console a friend. It either sucks, or there will be silence. You choose. (I actually choose). Depending on how much it sucks I might say it twice, say it during a hug, or while laughing. But it still sucks. Sucks is the only word, and it has never made anybody feel good. <--insert dirty joke here

I blame the education system in America; not because its their fault, but because that's what I've learned to do from the American education system. Fifth graders, along with fractions (please don't ask me to multiply a fraction without a TI-83 handy...nay, a TI-83 Plus), should have to respond creatively to terrible news.

Random moments in the day:

Timmy - "my dog skip died" Little Girls Name - "That's a terrible movie"

They'll probably be better at it than me just then...because they'll be learning.

All Im saying is, I lack the tools I need to respond to your emotional distress. I lack the words, and maybe even more importantly...i lack the emotions. and that sucks.

Sidenote (footnote?): In my family, sucks is a bad word. This post would have cost me $2.35 in the swear jar.

Meagan Fox; Naked.

Snow Storm with Clever Name 2010

2010-02-11T13:59:00.002-05:00

To everybody I saw at the grocery store the day before the snow hit:

There is no way you were going to run out of food and die. You live in DC, you can walk to food. Also, Pizza chains were still making deliveries. Ridiculous. (but yes, I was also there)

To the one guy at the store on his emergency run who decided he needed to have a fresh, uncut pineapple:

I respect you.

Megan Fox Naked (do i spell this differently every time?)

If you don't have anything nice to say...

2010-02-04T21:41:00.002-05:00

...don't say anything at all:

Kittens playing in a field of gerbera daisies, feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries while building homes for the less fortunate.

I would say that qualifies as a nice thing to say, if not the nicest thing. (would be nicer if I was involved, preferably barefoot and innocent eyed...eating veal.)

The Thing and I

2010-01-31T14:55:00.002-05:00

I opened this blog window, convinced that If its open I will write something. anything. nothing. everything. bathing. seething. breathing. clothing. loathing. soothing. teething. writhing. <--thanks wiki answers.

words ending in thing.

I just had a movie moment, looking for inspiration around the room. If somebody would have asked me my name just now, and I wanted to lie, I would have to say: Me? My name? Its...Aspirin Pileoflaundrytrashvodka. Kind of just rolls off the tongue.

I did not go out last night, but was awake until 3 in the a.m. playing video games and eating pretzel salt. And yes, I do realize how cool this post makes me look. I really wish I could buy a bag of pretzels without getting so many pretzels. I would eat spoonfuls of pretzel crumbs mixed with salt. Maybe put it in a bowl, add milk, like some sort of heart attack waiting to happen breakfast cereal.

Im done, Meagan Fox naked.

http://art-bin.com/art/omodest.html

2010-01-11T18:06:00.002-05:00

I'd imagine a url is the best way to title a blog post. This url in particular leads to an essay way funnier, cleverier, and hungrier than anything I could ever write. That includes my most genius blog that involved the word cleverier.

I am currently concentrating on a new project. It is probably the most difficult thing I have undertaken since finishing my senior thesis. I've been drawing up matrices, graphing out projections, and writing three page persuasive papers...all with the ultimate goal of deciding which songs to buy with my itunes gift card. This is no joke, you need to be very careful choosing songs. Your reputation lives and dies with your itunes library. There is nothing more intimate than letting somebody surf your music collection. I've seen marriages torn apart by the likes of 98 degrees and sarah bareilles.

I Do Cherish You?! I don't even know you anymore!

I would rather a girl goes through my text messages on a first date than go through my music. Im not ready to explain why 30% of my music is Ska and how I feel like Norah Jones just gets me.

Spread the process out over a couple days to diversify the moods you are in, or fall to what I like to call the Dashboard Confessional trap:

I got an itunes gift card when I was feeling a little bit emo, aka newly single. I spent $25 on songs like Vindicated and others titled like "the saddest song" & "why are you doing this to me I thought we were forever" <---that one might be made up, but i did purchase the saddest song. gimme a break.

Megan Fox Naked.

As You Wish...A Blog Requested by @Aaronswray

2010-01-03T21:01:00.002-05:00

Apparently when you ask Twitter what to write about, they answer:

Cary Elwes movies

Here we go...

I would be lying if I said I didn't have to IMDB the name, although I could easily pick him out of a police lineup. I haven't seen him acting much lately, so that might be the first place I would look for him. I should be nicer about this, considering he was in one of the finer films of the millennium prior to the Willenium (which is still going strong, although I have dibs on the next thousand years...dont be greedy Mr. Smith. ) Robin Hood, Men in Tights. I learned a lot from this film...like what it means to get circumcised, crossing rivers is easy, and foxes sound like Dolphins.

Cary was a cotton headed ninny muggins in Twister. He was all flash and heart. All he had was money, great equipment, a competent team, and stunning good looks <--wait, were we supposed to root against this guy? He was also in the smash hit Hot Shots! Which as we all know is Charlie Sheen's best known work...apart from his more indie work portfolio of domestic abuse and drugs.

Boom Roasted, Charlie Sheen.

He also had a huge part in Dracula, where he clearly was able to feed off of the acting prowess of Keanu Reeves. (I actually never saw it, Keanu was in it right?...I don't care, whoa Socrates). If you have ever read this before, or have talked to me for more than 3 minutes you know I think Keanu is a top 10 actor of my generation (seriously) (no joke) (I believe this) which makes Cary top 40 by proxy.

Glory was probably one of his more prominent roles...that I haven't seen. Although speaking of Glory: One time some friends were playing Scene it, the popular DVD quiz game where you guess the movie title given certain clues. This one clue was an audio clip of a big speech in Glory, very heart felt, and very confident in himself my friend screams out...i know this one, Nutty Professor. Now, I know I have not seen Glory...but Im fairly certain the plot lines, and general structure of the two movies is not similar (although im sure there is a lot of farting in Glory also).

Most great actors get into directing, which is exactly what Cary did. I hear he was runner up around 7 times for nominations in the directing category...each time for his work with...

....wait for it...

its that good....

PINKY & THE BRAIN

Narf

This post had no point, no thesis statement, but gosh darn it Cary Elwes...I salute you.
::insert picture here::

Meagan Fox Naked. (It means goodbye...honestly, it will catch on)

Dexter, Tiger Woods, and Other Searchable Keywords

2009-12-14T20:59:00.002-05:00

Every morning I wake up at 5:00 to start my day. Every morning, I look at the clock and say...why not sleep in until 6:18 instead.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Yes, 6:18 is my go-to time slot for waking up. Second place: 6:23...but only when Im really feeling tired. Im not sure why I choose an off time to wake up. Id like to say OCD, so I could fit in with the cool kids (on the USA Network) <---Monk reference, I know you got it. I hang out with the type of people who would get that.

You know who I don't hang out with? Most of the people I have ever met, and guys in backwards baseball caps. (and maybe people who call it a baseball cap). Discounting friends online who don't count (not you, you count, thanks for reading) I hang out with, on a regular basis less than a handful of people...I have met a few more than a handful of people in my lifetime. This means one of three things...I am not fun...you are not fun...or we are lazy.

You and I both know what the answer is.

don't be mean, its the lazy one.

One other theory on friendship: When Harry Met Sally <---settle down, you don't mean that.

If you understand what that means, sorry...that kind of thing really belongs in more of an xanga post.

'Night

Lynchpin

2009-12-01T21:27:00.002-05:00

This spot reserved for new post on how Anchorman is at the center of all modern comedy film

Knock Knock, Who's There?

2009-09-27T20:52:00.002-04:00

Its the surprise exterminator.

Apparently we had a bug problem. My roommate had not been listening to his mother for all these years, and had in fact, been letting the bed bugs bite. Thats sleeping 101. You cant have a goodnight...if you are also letting bed bugs bite. Thats amateur.

I had 24 hour notice to:

empty my closet, dresser, take posters down, and place everything in plastic bags in the middle of my room. Or what I like to call "make everything I own wrinkly/easily accesible to steal"

But I followed the rules, got everything in formation...they did their bug killing thing, and while getting ready to leave said "we have to come back in four days to do it again." So this week was living like a hobo indoors week for us. We could throw trash anywhere and it would look the same...although I still feel bad for peeing in the hallway.

Break In! : The Story of a 98' Plymouth Breeze

2009-09-14T20:42:00.002-04:00

I can't believe he left a soda cup in here again. I know he remembers what happened last time; paper cups leak after 3 days...they get sticky and uncleanable immediately after that. I'm sure he will remember some paper towels tomorrow morning. This is embarrasing, I have enough self-image issues being a 98 plymouth breeze...now I have to park in a visitor's space? Might as well get vehicle acne and fashion myself some coke bottle glasses. Wait... ... is he giving me eyes? I think he is coming over. I wish I wasn't parked under this f-ing bird poop factory. He is probably looking at another car behind me anyway. Nope! He is definitely into me. I can see it in his eyes...he definitely wants to be in me.

Whoa, settle down guy...keep your hands off. Save it for the second date. At least be gentle! NO! you broke my lock, you're not into me at all are you! I feel like maybe you are just using me for my things!

Popping my trunk? I don't swing that way sir.

Did you really think that metal case had something good in it? gold bars perhaps?...we wouldn't be parked here if we had gold bars. Also, could you at least watch where that's going...you are getting poker chips all over me.

What are you looking for? Are you going to take anything? Am I not even good enough to steal from?

Come back you coward!

:: cries::

i miss you.

night.

Surprise!

2009-09-03T23:10:00.002-04:00

a puppy!

that would be a good surprise. Unless you're allergic than it would be an adorably annoying surprise.

If I could give everybody who reads this blog a brand new puppy I would become the Oprah of the internet. Just look under your seat...its there, a puppy...remove the duct tape gingerly. Actually I would not be very much like Oprah, because I think giving a puppy to all my readers might just be the same as giving a puppy to my mom. (I was fat and got skinny though...probably will get fat again).

How long does it take a 22 year old man with arthritis to get tired of sleeping on the floor and buy a bed? a one, a two, a three...chomp, the world may never know. Im sleeping on the floor, and may just upgrade to a futon one day.

A man can dream.

.goodnight.

Titles Don't Mean Anything

2009-07-21T18:33:00.002-04:00

Now I am free to write whatever my heart desires. I am always constricted by my title. But not today, the highway of creativity is wide open and I'm in the passing lane.

... ...

Okay, so maybe I need a title. I can't just write for ten minutes about having nothing to write about can I? I could, but I think I've done it before...and its a little cliche. One time I tweeted the deepest thing I have ever thought of while sober:

Never mind, I couldn't find it...and well, I tend to not remember things that have nothing to do with food or money.

I have a feeling I am one of few who has actually turned down 3 job offers during this adorable little recession of ours. Its not that I don't want a job...Its just that I don't want miserable and/or selling spa trips to retail workers. <-- "for only 49.99 you can have a 30 minute massage, pedi/medi, haircut, and waxing." Oh what's that, you only make $6.50 an hour?...you would have to work an 8 hour day to pay for it? That's ok, I didn't want the $8 commission anyway.

What's worse: the actual job of selling discount spa offerings to retail workers? or the fact that I actually did it for an entire work day for no money...because it was my 2nd interview or "day of observation." It sounds less like a job related function..and more of a cult function.

Today on our day of observance, we will sacrifice a calico cat.

Night folks...G'night

My Day as a Homeless Man

2009-07-13T16:51:00.006-04:00

Once in awhile, a man awakes to find his world has changed drastically. Through those changes, he learns. He empathizes. He...

Baths in the Chesapeake Bay

Saturday morning I woke up homeless. No place to stay, no change of clothes, and a stench that would make a unicorn cry...if the Nazis hadn't killed them all in '37. The media gives homelessness a bad name. My experience was completely different than all these Hollywood Hobos who are down on their luck and never have any fun. I for one had nothing but fun. I went to the beach to skip stones. I played drums for a school of fish in a wetland. <-- that sounds like a lie, but i did it. Fish, me, drum sticks, rocking out. I took a nap on a bench, and then again on an unmade bed in an abandoned room. I even got somebody to pay for a movie ticket, and drank alcohol for seven hours. Its hard to feel sad about not having a home with beer in your system.

The best part about being homeless for the day was going home and sleeping in my warm bed. Traveling on foot and drinking beer really takes it out of you. Come to think of it, maybe I wasn't homeless...I was just on vacation. The lines between the two are a little blurry.

In both cases you pee in the water

Goodnight.

The Bromance, One Fatal Flaw

2009-07-07T20:36:00.002-04:00

I love a good bromance film. Nothing better than to sit down after a long broad trip with a ham and brovolone cheese sandwich with Bill BrO' Reilly to watch two funny dudes be pals for 1.5 hours.
I love to laugh, and the bromance comedy delivers as much.

But there is one problem with every bromance movie since the Judd Apatow revolution of 2003. <--don't quote that year, its accuracy is irrelevant...its just meant to show that something is wrong in the comedy world of movies lately. (and God love him, it might be Apatow's fault).

In recent comedies, the crisis hits and things turn sad for the lead characters...
AND THEY DONT MAKE IT A FUNNY SAD

"I thought we were friends!"
"We aren't friends, f*$# this, I'm out of here" (Pineapple Express, Superbad, I love you Man...)

Its ok to go sad, it makes for a bigger happier moment. But go sad...with an awkward laugh or five...make it fake sad. Harry and Lloyd got upset with each other, Lloyd got stabbed in the back and the two hated each other. But in the mix of hatred was diarrhea, and a frank discussion on who should take the first bullet.

Boo hoo hoo guy from superbad who i dont remember you name, Michael Cera didnt tell you he was living with Fogel...dont cry about it, pull down his pants in the middle of the street, do something comical.

I think what I am tying to say is if I wanted to cry at a movie, I would go see Click <<--seriously, i will cry every time...wait that was a comedy too...

I can't handle this, where is Leslie Nielson when you need him

goodnight

Roaming around rivers relieves stress

2009-06-28T19:52:00.003-04:00

There is something stuck under my R key which is making it super hard to type Rs. Therefore it makes perfectly good sense to try and fit as many Rs as possible into a blog, right.

O maybe just dont bothe witing any of them, and see if you can still undestand what I am tying to say.

It appears to be stuck on italics as well, so basically you are in for a visual treat. Ive never been very much of a writer, so i really need at least technology to be on my side. At least for now, because I am not quite ready for the inevitable Robot Uprising. Although, I do think machines ae prepping for the experience. Generation by generation we are losing the ability to function without technology. And I dont just mean that we would be in trouble if the internet went down...thats obvious. But when it comes time to write corespondance during the robot v. man war, no encryption software in the army will be able to decipher a message sent without spell check:

Deer Offiser Jonson,
oui our skrude.

But everybody is expecting the robot uprising, its in movies like Terminator and books like the How to Survive the Robot Uprising. It seems inevitable that one day robots will enslave humanity. But nobody talks about when at some point, the robots decide that after a hundred years maybe slavery is wrong. I'd imagine eventually slavery for robots would "not compute"...but it sure would be an awkward transition working with humans again. And humans wouldnt get all their rights immediately of course, so there would have to be extremist groups like the "human panthers" and leaders like "Malcom XY" <<---maybe not that one. Human affirmative action would be implemented, humans and robots working side by side, some robots will naturally reject the changes, while some others pretend to be "cool" with it while at work but declare this as an Unexpected Error to friends and family.

hmm...i can only hope to live through these formulative years of mankind.

I have a dream! that all Gods children may find jobs other than oiling the joints of a Deceptikon.

Goodnight

Apathy in Print

2009-06-21T21:39:00.002-04:00

Seinfeld: a show about nothing...which along with ridiculous earnings during its run, made a cool $1.7 billion just for the rights to air re-runs.

Apathy: a magazine about nothing...which along with being imaginary, made a cool $1.7 billion in my mind.

Whats the problem with magazines these days? Print media has been rendered useless by free information on the internet. So what is the solution for print media?

Write about things that nobody would ever search for online

Cover article, issue #1: "Getting the flat fork"
The favorite part of any school day is hands down, lunch. Friends, food, and a nice break in between naps. But what happens when it turns sour, like the milk you bought at the beginning of the semester that you swore you would drink because Oreos are bound to be on sale soon. Lunch in one moment, as your eyes hit the line to see seven different types fried food, is glorious. Until you sit down to dig in to that freshly made mama's famous meatloaf and something is a little off. THE FORK IS FLAT. How does that even happen, are there people eating food heavy enough to affect the basic form of the metal dinnerware? Some fat kid who refuses to stop at pound cake, and moves on to 15 pound cake? The flat fork affects the entire day. How can you be expected to learn about accounting when you've spent an entire hour feeling self concious about your untensils. Nobody makes fun of you, but you know everybody is making fun of you. Thousands of chances for a regular fork, and with on reckless selection, an instant outkast is born. Those odds are outstanding, its like winning the lottery...if lottery winnings were terrible and makes eating peas difficult.

Just slip it in your pocket, pretend you forgot to get a fork.

Work week coming up. Ghuda Night

Random Title With No Mention of Never Writing Here

2009-06-18T18:35:00.003-04:00

Its hard being twenty-two years old. Its awfully sleepy being this age...Been asleep by 9:30 each night this week. But hey, that's what being young is all about. I can't wait to get older so I can stay up until 11 and watch tv shows that have couches with celebrities sitting on them. But for now, I need to go to sleep while tv shows still have laugh tracks.

The weekends are a different story. I become like a bear waking up after a long winter hiber. I really want to go on with this blog without mentioning that i abbreviated hibernation. It wouldve been a subtle omg, did he really do that situation. Like a bear waking from hiber, I am itchy to have some...honey. Of course, my honey gets me more of a buzz than a bear's. Although that reference to bees, who buzz was pretty ballin' I was referring to getting my drank and my two step on at the bah. Of course I never talk like that (yes i do), but what matters is I dont go to sleep until 3/4 o' clock on the weekend and still wake up by 10am to go see a movie called "The Hangover".

I would like to clarify, there is no such thing as three fourths o' clock. I like to go to bed at three, maybe four in the a.m. Or sometimes both. Never neither, that would be foolish.

There are other ways I am like a bear:
1. I wipe with Charmin
2. I wear a fez and ride a tiny tricycle at the circus
3. hairy
4. My babies are cute
5. I have friends who are a rabbit, kid pig, tiger, and donkey

I don't know a lot about bears.

Well I am 22 and its almost 7:30...my bed is calling my lame lame name.

Night, Good

I am so sorry...

2009-06-05T16:25:00.002-04:00

I know how much you crave my blog, and i have not delivered very much satisfaction of late. So instead of doing something original, i will try to hold you over with my "Twitter Comedy Sunday" set. I told them I would do a 15 minute set, and nailed it dead on 15 minutes. Also, don't judge me, its super hard to write funny things in under 136 characters. :) still fun...

Thanks @mamabee4 for setting this up, and graciously giving me the headlining spot. I assume 4pm is primetime for west coast comedy #TCS

Comedy on twitter is like my first time in bed, too short and laughed at by strangers on the internet. #TCS

Twitter comedy is nice b/c you cant see how nervous I am like up on stage. Lets just say its like im on the campaign trail (handshakes) #TCS

Believe me when I say #TCS is going on my comedy resume, right next to the time I said I was not yet ready to rock n roll at a concert #TCS

Twitters good for job networking unless youre a graduate who also does comedy. Then its good for telling employers you like poop jokes #TCS
#TCS comedian Steve Martin does not believe in punchlines. I disagree, a joke w/o a punchline is like a skinny rabbit in a field w/o....
Nerdy kids develop a sense of humor to be cool. But what can a nerdy joke do, sleep with a slutty joke? Sell the rich jokes pot? #TCS
More people should like being alone, specifically the guy who started the swine flu (outdated joke, might as well have been about OJ) #TCS
OJ said “if I did kill her its b/c I love her so much” Lil boys pull the hair of girls they LIKE, so yea maybe LOVE looks like stabbing #TCS
Im such a lonely guy that I often reply to spammers “can you tell me a little more about what you have to offer...maybe over lunch?” #TCS
As a lonely kid I wanted to break my arm so kids would sign my cast. I never did, but I did get arthritis. Sign my bottle of pain meds? #TCS
Arthritis is an easy disease to hide, unless you're doing something strenuous...like walking uphill. #TCS
My mom had lupus. One pill she took hurt her short-term memory which really hurt her trips to the video store #TCS
“aw mom not Sinbads Houseguest for the 4th time! I know it hurts your memory but does it make you think crappy movies are ok too” #TCS
My mom is better now, which is why I joke. She still gets her prescriptions filled as a reminder...of her new addiction to pain meds #TCS
IKEA: selling unmade furniture is like selling sperm. The customer gets to create something that's “theirs”...but not really. #TCS
In school I was really good at math...unless fractions were involved. In life im good at sex, unless fractions are involved #TCS
Whats up is not a real question, dont respond. I dont want to hear about ur dead puppy. Im busy and im sorry I forgot to feed your dog #TCS
Thats it for me tonight, just a short opening set. big ups to the #TCS comics coming up next, I love you. Lets hang out later everybody #TCS

Well thats whats up, first Twitter comedy gig. Please criticize, i could use some more fuel for my fire.

Art of Flea Market-ing

2009-05-28T19:56:00.002-04:00

I for some reason decided to purchase a booth location at a memorial day flea market. (the reason ended up being the $2000 i made, yep, really). I was in for a long day, with setup starting at 4...in the a.m. I'm not generally awake at 4 in the morning unless i have to take a quick trip across the hall to the bathroom, or if like Con-Air is on the USA network.

Naturally, instead of getting a good night's sleep I chose to buck up, and stay awake all night. This isn't even a good decision when its done on the first day of the new year. Its more of a reminder..."yep, looks like I still need to sleep at night this year"

Actually, nothing funny happened because of fatigue. Sorry for bringing it up.

But the vendor next to me, a self declared "house cleaner & antique dealer" (I think thats the long way of saying "thief") was SO into the flea market it was fun to watch. He would sit in his all-knowing antique dealer chair all day shouting out prices and long histories on items...that nobody was even asking about. His marketing strategies were genius:

1. The first route he would take to garner more cash is to give a long detailed account of where the item was found. "that will be $25, it was found on a tall ship in the late 1700s by a unwed sailor who had just tripped over a german woven quilt made from the hair of an english king" "you mean this rusty soap dish?" "yep, its a great piece"

2. the second route is to take into account principles of supply and demand. Clearly this toothless man had some school learnin' in him. When asked about a Hershey tin he would establish that the supply is low by saying "this is one of the rarest pieces i have, i almost never see them" followed by "how many would you like, i have like 40" Its almost as if, by creating such a low supply with the first statement that the demand generated from it lags behind the second, creating a gap where high supply is met with high demand. "I'll take 10"

I can't believe I spent that much on a soap dish
'Night

Most Ambitious Task To Date:

2009-05-21T23:14:00.003-04:00

A grand collection of poems, all in Haiku form (loosely defined because counting syllables was never offered as an elective at WAC)

This is just a teaser, I assume my book will be published to great reviews in the upcoming years. I'm not sure how many I will end up creating, it will be in the hundreds, but i do know this. It will be called:

Haikusies:

A tribute to beverages & the things that keep them cold

Inspired by William P. Bruce...winning 69 thousand dollars

The title is both a mix between Haiku and beer coosies, and what I believe to be the actual plural form of haiku. (you don't know Japanese, just try to prove me wrong)

4 samples to hold you over until the hardcover release.

Orange juice today

Quenched my morning desires well

Toothpaste almost ruined it

Sweat on my warm brow

Frosted mug chills only my hand

No ice, soda still flat

Beer is good in mugs

Beer is good in cans and bottles

Beer ruins relationships

Hammocks sway in breezes

The bucket of ice still fresh

No money for drinks

I know you are dying to read the next 250+ as much as I am to write them. Feel free to reserve your autographed copy today.

Goodnight (love you)

Not Me Jay-Z...

2009-05-20T23:31:00.005-04:00

I'm not a business, man. I'm a businessman.

After 4 years of studying business, graduating Cum Laude, with departmental honors, and the highest deparment award (<<---ok, so maybe i'm just tooting my own horn because it feels nice to be done with school, and i'm awesome) I've realized that:

My online life is bizarre. On one hand, I want to find a job, which means having professional social media pages. On the other hand, I really want to keep pretending (<<--i use this term so that when I fail, i can say i was never trying, I'm insecure like that) to be a comedian...and use online media to talk about poop and punching baby otters. Yes I've talked about both. I may have said that the end of the season finale of 24 made me so frustrated the only thing that could make me happy again is to land a solid left hook onto the jowl of a baby sea otter, preferably in front of its mother. (I would never actually do it, I would play the video game though).

I think its unfair that employers in the business world will dock me points because I am trying to be a comedian. It would never happen the other way around.

"I see here that you're very funny, and I like that you have a diverse joke background."

"Thanks, I have worked hard to keep my material fresh, and otter abuse-less"

" Right, I only have one problem...I googled your name and i came across some disturbing posts"

"Well, college can be a little crazy..."

"No, its just that, morally, I don't think i can book someone who has pictures of themselves... shaking hands with business leaders and who makes comments about having a strong desire to... 'succeed'"

whatever, I will clean up my online presence when I realize my jokes aren't funny...or at least when I realize that even though there are enough flavors of Ramen for each day of the week, maybe i should make some money and buy chicken, and not just its flavor.

Will you hire me?

Goodnight

2nd Installment of:

2009-05-19T23:01:00.002-04:00

Random Notebook Entries

So my little notebook hasn't gotten a lot of use lately, but I thought I would share some things that found its way into its pages.

1. "Sasquatch going on a date"
2. "Acid Flashbacks"
3. "Cupcakes in pocket"
4. "Inside Jokes"

Sasquatch on a date seems random at first. But it was a highly calculated stab at my roommate's combination of facial hair and formal attire this summer. Like Bigfoot shaved enough so that his eyes were visible for his date to gaze into, but not enough for his date to want to.

(side note, my new favorite pastime is looking at somebody and coming up with a handful of "you look like _______" I realize immediately that this makes no sense written with no context...moving on...)

Apparently if you do enough acid in your lifetime, you fall into an acid flashback when you crack your back. That sounds absolutely awful...until you realize that instead of listening to your boss' story of a fish "this big" <<--hands out wide you can go to your happy place with a swift crack of the back.

The origins of the notebook entry "cupcakes in pocket": (*humor at the time enhanced by miller brewing company) My roommate on a walk to Chili's said "oh gross, there are still cupcake crumbs in my pocket" I had to wonder, what circumstance arises where you would have to stash a cupcake in your pocket for later? At fat camp maybe, but there are floorboards for that. I don't have a funny answer to my quandary...only more questions, like where do you get a cupcake small enough to fit in your pocket...and why are there only crumbs and no icing? Are we sure this isn't a muffin disguised as a cupcake situation?

My girl friends have so many inside jokes. They can walk up to each other, say one word to spark a memory of a random 30 seconds that happened three years ago...and laugh for hours. "Shrimp!" hahahahahahahahahahahah <<-- true story
I don't have the memory to form quality inside jokes.
me -"omelet!" hahahaha
friend - "what, you mean what we had for breakfast...an hour ago"
me - "yes, heheh"
friend - "you're dumb"

The Logic of Fear

2009-05-14T15:19:00.002-04:00

When people get asked "what are you afraid of?" the answer is oftentimes, spiders. I have always believed myself to be scared of spiders. Until recently in my life I have discovered that I have no fear of spiders, but am terrified of their babies.

A grown ass man spider is fine, it crawls on your arm...one quick flick of the finger and its across the room. Leaving you with plenty of time to run into the bathroom, shut the door, and call a much more manly friend to come save you.

But with babies, they travel in swarms. Not a pack, group, or murder, but a swarm. You get baby spiders on your arm, by the time you scream and fire a flick in their direction...there are 1700 baby spiders living in your brain waiting to grow up and make more spider babies until eventually your brain is 80% spider, at which point they control you: good luck trying to watch a movie that isn't Arachnophobia, or Charlotte's Web...

The biggest things in life are not always the scariest, the small ones can also make you scream (that's what she said)

Goodnight <--you're safe under the blankets

Sore Throat

2009-05-11T22:22:00.003-04:00

I have one.

Having a sore throat is going to make it a lot tougher to dictate my blog. I might actually have to type it myself, if i have enough alieve to push through the arthritis pain. Did I mention i have a broken leg and my cat just died?

That got weird.

What I meant to say was, I hope I don't get sick for graduation. I want to be able to be naked under my gown, drinking hidden champagne, twittering about the boring speaker, while not having to worry about vomming on the girl next to me. Unless its a girl I don't like, then maybe it would be something nice to spice things up.

In my mind I'm going to be the quirky guy who gives everybody a reason to laugh during graduation. Something high brow, like a whoopie cushion or a classic "trip and fall" across the stage. But in reality I am going to be completely respectful to the traditions of graduation, and simply wait until my name is called and then trip and fall on that stage like an adult.

GoodN

Mother's Day

2009-05-10T18:21:00.004-04:00

I want to take a moment on this day of honoring moms, to share something that I was thinking about on my long drive to come see my mother on her special day:

You must have friends in order to ride a motorcycle

Unless its Johnny Deebag on his crotch rocket, I've never seen somebody on a motorcycle all alone. (not like, there's never been just one person riding on the bike, that would be stupid to say...and if i wanted to say something stupid I could think of something much better...like pirate swabbing poop decks in Somalia.) There are always a couple of bikes riding together, which is both fun and safe. You get to be with your motorcycles brosephs/brosephines while at the same time, you have somebody to scoop your face off the ground if you crash.

But it must get hard to find a buddy to go with you if something pops up. What if a biker needs to go get some milk? Which biker friend is going to be willing to put on their white tee and leather coat just to help their brovolone cheese get some dairy?

Its nice though, the family bikers have with each other. They are always waving at other biker groups who pass going in the opposite direction. They become instant friends by having just one thing in common, their vehicle. I wish everybody who drove a '98 plymouth breeze would be my friend...we could be the coolest 6 dudes on the road.

In an unrelated, related note. I want to buy a black sedan, and find a couple bikers to drive behind all day. I would feel so important, and if i got little flags...people might think I am the president. Just a dream...like my dream of having enough money to yell "drinks are on me tonight" to the whole bar...or like that dream i had where the skinny hippos were trying to read dr suess to me in the hotel room...

How many viruses can you fit on one IBM...

2009-05-07T15:07:00.002-04:00

the answer is apparently 87,000+

Usually when you take a computer to the tech guys and they do a virus sweep it takes hours...not a week.

Usually the tech nerds will belittle you, not be amazed by the computer's infection.

Usually you wouldn't see your name in the office on a white board that just says "records"

But I guess I am not in the usually world. The techies looked like they wanted to shake my hand, like it was an honor just to meet me. Nobody can tell me I haven't done anything in college...because my theory is, a computer doesn't just get 87,000+ viruses...unless its trying to kill itself.

I'm sorry I overworked you, IBM, I guess I just loved you too much<--like OJ Simpson loved his wife.

Bold GoodNight Italics

Last Night

2009-05-04T13:37:00.002-04:00

I grew up with one main philosophy. Nothing can get you, including monsters, if you are under the covers. Last night this theory was put to the test as I had an intruder appear in my room. I was getting ready to sleep, head on pillow, when I heard it.

There was a fly somewhere in my room, on the prowl. Normally not a big deal, but this fly was targeting me. It landed right on my face, I swatted, back on my face. Naturally my little kid instinct kicked in, get under the covers. Safe.

But every single time a hand, or head would pop out of those covers I would get tickled by a disease infested fly immediately. I was in my very own personal hell of a slightly inconveniencing nuisance.

There is a lesson here kids, stay under your blankets because monsters are real and they will eat you.

why does a bird fly, but a fly can't bird

just keeping the posts rolling.

Goodday

New

2009-05-02T23:05:00.003-04:00

I don't have anything to write about, but I have a little bit of time before I go pass out. From tired, not from liquor.

I started reading "Born Standing Up" again today, and blew through like 100 pages in one sitting. Which probably isn't impressive to you "readers" out there who have probably already read through the newest Harry Potter book 6 times over. <<--is that the cool thing for the reading types these days?

I'm going to be in the DC Metro area this summer. Should I try and get a real open mic gig? terrifying. I don't want to say I'm like Michael J. Fox when I'm on stage, but I look a little like M.J.Fox up on stage. The sharp wit and classic 90's look, not the shaking...that would be tasteless.
Being nervous is a little bit of a problem. a lot a bit of a problem, lack of material. I came up with this really funny bit about how women are different from men and how airplane food is bad, I mean what's the deal?...but I don't think its going to work out.

I should just steal one joke from every comedian

That's Dane Cook's secret. That and talking about getting hit in the face. If its not funny the first time say it louder. Still not funny? squat down, and say it really quietly in the camera. Still not funny? hit yourself in the face.

Not a real post tonight, just an attempt to get back in a rhythm. More posts to come. Hopefully funny ones that reveal my inner nerd.

Goodnight

You should put that in your blog...

2009-04-20T22:22:00.002-04:00

Yes I should. But I don't remember what we were talking about. Somebody should blog about what I should blog about, that would be much easier.

We all laughed so hard in my dream about a pun I made about pigs...

I can't believe it either, but there is a funny pig pun out there, and I can't remember what it is! <<--No its not "pig pun", that would be a dirty pun: think about it.

I got a small notebook to carry around for this very reason, to remember things I can write about. But for some reason every time I check my pocket in dreamland, there's no moleskine to be found. I think it might be because I'm usually naked in my dreams, and there are no pockets on my thigh...

when I do have my little notebook, I love writing the stupid things me and my friends talk about. But none of it ever makes sense once I read it again. I'm a terrible notekeeper. Anybody want to follow me around taking notes? I can pay you in smiles and hugs.

I've been called a great hugger, I think that's the same as being called a terrible kisser <<--for anyone who doesn't follow me on twitter (twitter.com/comedyinitials) or on facebook.

Anyway, my notebook is just a bunch of random useless notes. Here is a sample:

1. Highway pirates
2. Traveling the whole way to Amazon Canada
3. Rihanna -> ugly/can't sing: ella ella -> Hellen Kella ella
4. "baby armada"
5. metaphorical candy reward -> real diabetes

The Hellen Keller remix to Umbrella would have been huge (#3), until Chris Brown had to go and ruin it. It seems immoral to parody her songs now. That kind of thing makes me hate domestic viloence.

I need to lock it up, focus, and start doing something productive to start a career in comedy...like invent a dream notebook.

Goodnight

What I did in Class Today:

2009-04-16T23:33:00.002-04:00

For my parents who pay my tuition: I learned all about the advantages and disadvantages of international business, from the least risky exporting to the most risky/costly foreign direct investment.

For Everybody else: - (mom & dad, stop reading...not really you are the only ones who actually read this)

Looking at dude in front row - So many people are constantly working out, so that they can look good. Too bad they're always sweaty and in their workout clothes...kind of has the opposite effect. "Oh you have a six pack? I didn't know because I couldn't see it underneath that hoodie and overwhelming B.O."

Looking at girl, with huge...keys - Key chains are used to make it harder to lose keys. But I think that they just make losing your keys more devastating. Before key chains - "shoot I lost my room key"...after key chains - "oh shit! oh shit! I lost my keys. I'm screwed, my car, house, and chastity belt keys were on that chain."

looking at...well you will prob figure it out - There's always a pencil sharpener in every classroom. Until you actually need one. "Hey I broke my pencil, do you have a sharpener?" "Not unless you have a time machine...use a pen like an adult, or at least a mechanical pencil like a robot author." <<--that's stupid, robots have built in laser pens

looking at sudoku puzzle ...I'll wait for tomorrow...i am too tired if i start talking about robots.

watch out for the uprising, those with robot parts will be destroyed first

Goodnight

Blog Title

2009-04-15T20:31:00.002-04:00

Sometimes my jokes are a little nerdy. When little kids figure out they’re nerdy, they develop a sense of humor to make friends. But what hope does a nerdy joke have? Does it have to sleep with a slutty joke? Or maybe sell the rich jokes pot?

its probably the pot.

Goodnight

My thesis was accepted :)

2009-04-14T19:29:00.002-04:00

Now that I am graduating, there are only a few fears left in my life. Nothing too scary, just things that make me go eeeeeeekkk! [like a mom from the 50's standing on a stool in the middle of the kitchen, wearing pearls, after seeing a mouse]

In no order, my top five fears

1. Spider babies

2. Red heads

3. Red headed spider babies

4. Getting stabbed in the knee cap while sitting and then having to stand up with a knife in my leg.

5. and commitment

Honorable mention: Bridge driving, MC Esher paintings, misplaced faces, and commitment.

Terrifying...going to the bar @ 10...reading a book until then.

GoodNight

Reading Stifles Creativity

2009-04-12T00:12:00.003-04:00

The book is never better than the movie, because you can't share the experience with a friend...and the butter stains the pages.

I have a roommate, who's last name is Hiden, who refuses to read a book that isn't already a movie. I think it might be because he never learned to read, so this way he can pretend to read it and still tell somebody the summary if called out.

"I know you can't read, what's that book about?"

"Tom Hanks gets stranded on an Island with only a volleyball to keep him sane."

"Um, I think you have the wrong Cast Away" :

I've said it before and I will say it again, Keanu Reeves is a top ten actor of my generation. I have had many a conversation that starts with: "Keanu Reeves sucks." Only to have that same person chiming in at the end with..."oh shoot, and I loved the Replacements." Yes you did love the Replacements and Hardball and The Matrix and Point Break and Bill & Ted and Constantine and Speed (smart enough not to be in Speed 2) and maybe even Lake House...

Not the Lake House. I don't get it...writing letters back in time is cool, writing letters only 2 years back in time, not cool. What's it like 2 years from now? Oh right, I'm still alive in 2 years, I already know.

I've been Twitter-ing way too much. Its literally impossible for me to write anything more than 140 charatcters now. I say that, just so I can say this:

I hate when people use the term literally, when something is clearly not meant to be literal. I like to respond with " I would literally punch you in the face if there weren't so many cops around." It's worth it just to see their face after they finish uttering the phrase "wait, there aren't any cops here."

Goodnight

literally

Sunday Sunday Sunday, Kids Still Just 5 Bucks

2009-04-05T16:04:00.003-04:00

I'm not really sure what to write about, I just know that I have time to write, so I am writing.

How many times do you think this guy is going to write the word "write"?!

I went home yesterday just to visit with my parents, hang out, and take them out to dinner. The entire first 20 minutes or so were spent with them saying things like:

Really, why are you here?

You mean you didn't bring any laundry home?

Who's going to be the designated driver?

My favorite part of the trip was getting to see my mom, tell my grandma, that she had 10 beers with dinner...and my grandma not looking surprised.

Of course that's crazy, my mom would never drink 10 beers...on my tab. She's too good of a mother for that...she never charges more than 5 to me.

And just because I love mixing pictures in with the writing of my post, I love you, and I also enjoy poop...

**I apologize to anybody I have ever offended or made to feel like a fool through this blog or my jokes. (Just because I wrote the apology underneath a picture of poop doesn't mean its not true.)

**"Write" (or its derivatives) <<-- 8 times

***Also, I am on a streak for receiving a "terrible vote"...so I want everybody who reads this post to vote terrible, and then give me a scathing comment...because spite is my driving force.

Ok Maura...You Might Be On To Something

2009-04-02T22:34:00.006-04:00

"I have a bone to pick with you, you are kind of a dick when you tell jokes...it was funny
but that's not you."

Touchez miss thang. You may be onto something. Is it really believable that I would womanize (woman being loosely defined as girls, ages of 3 to 55), or make jokes about...okay maybe they were mostly about womanizing.

The truth is I know little about hitting on girls, and have been only mildly successful in my endeavors. (until I hit the jackpot with my JM...identity is being protected so all the men won't go and hit on my beautiful girl on facebook: Oops, don't write "you look pretty" on this girl's wall ) I should tell jokes I know, like being a loser, never getting dates, and having arthritis as a teenager.

Let's get down to business, 5 new jokes that don't make me look like a dick
written right now! (its not now anymore when you read this...thats more of a twitter thing than a blog thing...get with it friend.)

1. Its really hard being a shy kid. So many experiences can pass you by. When I was little I never went with my friends to climb the old water tower, and now I'll never know the joy of living a carefree summer day...or the joy of hepatitis. <<--tempted to say "or the joy of watching tommy fall to his death, but I think that might be a bit "dicky"

2. Sometimes I feel like I spend too much time in bed. One time I slept for 23 hours straight, but I think I didn't really start to see it as a problem until instead of stashing playboys under my matress, I hid rations of peanut butter cups and bags to pee in.

3. When I was a kid, I never got much attention from kids at school. I often day dreamed of breaking my leg just so that kids would take time to write on my cast. Unfortunately I never broke my leg...I did get arthritis though...want to sign my cane and bottle of pain pills?

4. I don't use AIM anymore, its gotten too difficult to flirt with. They added that "your friend is typing now" feature, which seems cool until you get caught not saying something. I had a girl who blew up my spot after seeing me typing for 5 minutes...only to respond..."cool". I wanted to tell her that I thought she was pretty and that we should go out...but halfway through my typing she used a winky emoticon, so I changed my mind.

5. Watching little kids can be hard. I used to baby sit a lot, and something always came up that made the night rough. I've dealt with crying, getting locked out, and a poop right on the floor...lucky for me the parents always came home soon after the incident...or so I told them. I got busted once, apparently 6 hour old poop looks different than the fresh stuff.

There's five, I'm not sure if I accomplished the part about not looking like a d bag...but i tried.

GoodnighT

She's a Brix House...

2009-03-29T22:53:00.003-04:00

I am nervous for my open mic set Wednesday, its like...a situation where one would be really nervous...like a fat man before his first jump off the bridge at Johnny's discount bungees.

Set List: Old Joke, New Joke, New Joke, New Joke, Old Joke, Old Joke, New Joke, New Joke, Lupus Jokes X2, New Joke, New Joke, New Joke...missing a closer.

Close with a make it rain joke?
Close with my LOL joke?
Close with "Sex is just like writing with a pen. You have to be careful because you can't fix your mistakes and lefties always get stuff all over their hands."

It would be funnier with a pocket protector as a condom visual...my dad told me sex is like a pen, you have to live with your mistakes. "I wish I would have had a pocket protector" he says...as he looks at me and sighs.

I'm not sure why all that was centered. But I am sure I just wrote those jokes on the fly...sorry if they suck.

I feel like this isn't long enough...so here's some filler:

Faux Deep Thoughts with Jack Handey

"When I see somebody run past me on the sidewalk I immediately think…they are late for something. But maybe they aren’t late…maybe they are running from something. 9 times out of 10 , just late. But one out of ten, you better look behind you to see whats up…if my good friend Stumps would’ve looked behind him when a guy in a business suit flew past him maybe his nickname wouldn’t be Stumps and maybe that bear wouldn’t be a rug on the floor of the “town hero” who saved Stump’s life but not his legs"

I wanna singa, about the moon-a...

2009-03-27T00:07:00.002-04:00

Just finished up my midnight snack...at approximately midnight which was nice. Things are always better when their name matches the time.

I like to eat my midnight snack, fall asleep and wake up for some weed at high-noon

I went to the grocery store for my snack. They have everything a kid could ask for in a midnight snack. Cookies, crackers, donuts, chicken nuggets. <<--it would have been cooler if i used all c words, but they were all out of captain crunch cereal (3 c's)

I ended up getting cookies and cream pop tarts and cubed cheese. (do c foods just taste better?!)

C-Food!

I'm not sure its ok to just take a picture of a kid from the internet...but its so much easier than taking them from the playground. <<--you save money on lollipops.

24, Barack Obama, Chris Brown, Global Warming, American Idol and Bun Jokes

2009-03-23T23:01:00.004-04:00

I'm going to start putting highly searched items in my titles, just to make people mad that they waste their time in my blog thinking they could find out just what exactly happened to Barack Obama on American Idol.

Simon told him he would do better singing the national anthem at the Special Olympics

Ladies & gentlemen, my first current events joke. <<--and only four days after it happened

I have started to twitter, which is a fancy term for...i watch famous people talk to each other in under 140 characters. Sometimes I pretend to be a part of the conversation, but it all ends up feeling like the dinner scene in the 6th Sense.

I see semi-famous people...

I bought rogaine over spring break, but haven't started using it yet. Using it would be admitting that i am already, at the age of 22, becoming :

Beard comb over...if only it didn't take months to grow even a patchy abe lincoln amish beard.

I love sleep too much to keep writing: its 12:12 make a wish

I wish for world peace by way of ice cream social...extra nuts for Kim Jong-Il

G O O D N I G H T

Its a Hard Knock Life in the C-Ville

2009-03-20T01:14:00.002-04:00

Ten minute power break from writing my thesis to update my blog.

Quick detour before I begin embarrassing myself further with true tales of a nerdy little kid...

I had a reader from Malaysia the other day who accidentally found his or way onto my blog. I doubt it was quite what they were looking for as their google search that brought them here was "jokes about buns"...apparently there is a genre of jokes I have been missing for quite some time. Luckily for me I now know this, thanks to some Malaysian who wanted to laugh about buns.

Two hot dog buns walk into a bar...

Childhood Memories:

1. I pooped my pants in elementary school...sat in my poopy pants for at least an hour, the bus ride, and for some reason didn't immediately remove them when i got home.

2. I accidentally made a girl cry by saying "I like your shirt"

3. I always made the relay team for field day, which meant i was fast...my relay team never won, which meant I was not fast.

4. I pretended to see the images in those 3-D I spy books.

5. I ate a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that fell in the mud on a hiking trip...it was ok though, becasue I blew on it first.

6. I would offer my stuffed animals the blankets on cold nights, and out of genorousity end up freezing all night.

7. I coughed up something that looked like a small ball of dough once...I hid it in a lego house at school.

8. I built a blanket/pillow fort that had a central air conditioning system with my friend Noah <<--that's not nerdy by the way, its super badass.

9. I collected baseball cards...and I still might.

10. I was legally an adult before my first kiss...I was so nervous, that i got kissed twice without it registering before I recipricated.

Goodnight [not yet for me...but youhave fun sleeping]

IF...

2009-03-17T13:53:00.001-04:00

If I write my new childhood entry this week...it means I'm not writing my thesis which is due Saturday.

I think that's ok with me. New embarrassing childhood truths by Thursday.

Literally a Blog

2009-03-14T00:03:00.002-04:00

Confessions of a Nerdy Kid

2009-03-12T22:31:00.003-04:00

1. I was not "prone to fumbling" during tackle football games with kids bigger than me...i was just scared.

2. I lost the 2nd grade presidential election...after creating the idea of a 2nd grade president.

3. I often locked myself out of my house...which on occasion meant pee in my pants.

4. I co-wrote a book about adolescent chipmunks, 12 chapters long in the 2nd grade.

5. I was sent to the principal's office once...for crossing the street without looking both ways.

6. I peaked in popularity in the 2nd grade, not a big enough peak for a presidency, but enough to get chased by the popular girls.

7. I have only believed 2 or 3 girls that have told me I was attractive...i'm the most self-conscious arrogant kid on the east coast.

8. I had a nickname in elementary school: Fuzzy Wuzzy

9. I was one of the best students in math...unless fractions were involved.

10. I had the police called on me at the age of 8 "for being a whippersnapper" and "hitting balls into my yard."

to be continued?

If I get more than 3 comments or positive "reactions" I will keep spilling my little kid guts next post. If not, I'll probably blog about: "what's the deal with airline food?" and how men are different from women.

G'night

Spring Break! Wooooooooooooooooooo!

2009-03-10T12:24:00.004-04:00

I just flashed

Flashing is weird, becasue it really only works in certain locations. The beach tends to be pro-flashing. While the Amish of Lancaster County tend to hate it...unless the flash has a nice beard.

"did you see those boobies Jeb" "Sure did, they looked a little young, there was no beard." "Yea, didn't exactly make me want to churn my butter...if you know what I mean."

Its hard waking up at noon. It throws off the whole day. I posted on my twitter that I would be eating Reese's Puffs cereal for breakfast. I know, its like candy for breakfast, I can't believe my mommy bought them for me. Its so exciting that I've been calling her mommy. Anyway, as soon as i leave the computer, i forget what i'm eating...and pop a frozen burrito in the microwave. Noooooooo! It felt like lunch time, not breakfast...and now i've lied to the 2 people who follow my twitter. (twitter.com/comedyinitials)

good news though...I'm still hungry. Reese's for mid-day snack?! Yea that's actually fairly normal. Maybe I'll take a quick nap so it feels like breakfast when I wake up.

Goodnight

Interviews

2009-03-08T12:32:00.003-04:00

The questions at interviews are always really hard. The worst one is please list your weaknesses. You're supposed to make your weaknesses look like strengths. My very first interview I said that my weakness was stealing from offices...so that in my next interview I can use "I'm too honest"

weakness into strength

What Makes a Person Funny?

2009-03-06T00:22:00.002-05:00

After researching and studying the topic for countless hours, I have concluded that there are only two ways to become funny. You either have to have had terrible parents, or be fat.

Too bad for me, my parents loved me and I've got a rockin bod.

But wait, I may have a rockin bod now, but what about when I was just a little kid with hopes and dreams...and bleached blond hair. <<--I saw an entire baseball team in the little league world series bleach their hair, so obviously I had to be as cool as them.

I was chubby.

My friends always make me tell "the Bee Story." I'm not sure how it will go in blog form, but I do know that two toed sloths only poop once a week. <<--you're welcome

So I was at a pool party a young man, or rather a young chubby boy...everybody was splashing in the pool as I... ate some cake, the chubby kid's food mecca. I was lounging in my chair a bit, exhausted from not breathing so that I could eat my cake without stopping for such frivolous things. And I feel a focused pain on my stomach. Not the "I just downed five hot pockets in one sitting" stomach pain...but like a tiny stabbing.

I looked down to examine the situation, but couldn't find anything. It still hurt, so I stood up to go find a mirror to investigate. As I straighten myself out...out comes a dead bee from within my rolls of ab flab. Poor little guy didn't stand a chance in there, but at least I can say I have "killer" abs.

Yep, I did finish this post with a pun..."puns, the new sarcasm"

GoOdNiGhT

I will continue to give Jimmy Fallon a chance...

2009-03-05T01:18:00.002-05:00

I know Anthony Jeselnik writes for the show, but I just can't picture any of those jokes or bits coming from that guy. Mostly because they don't involve dead babies or aids.

I have a gig coming up on April 1st. At a local open mic night...hopefully it goes well. As long as I don't go up after some sad emo acoustic performance. Nothing kills a lupus joke faster than dashboard confessional.

I figure if I have a gig scheduled, I better keep up with my blogging.

My favorite part about blogging, is looking at which ads google decides fits my blog the best. A little google troll comes out from its google bridge and reads my blog. After its done reading, it declares what my blog is about. Google is very sophisticated, but sometimes I feel like the ads don't fit what I'm trying to do.

For a long time, the ads involved turkey hunters. Which I get, because I talked about turkey hunters...but I was making fun of them, and their fashion choices. A more accurate ad would be "Turkey Hunters: Click Here for clothes containing just one color"

Sometimes I think the ads know too much about me. I can't remember ever writing about how Ive recently gained like 8 pounds...but everywhere I look (well not everywhere, mostly just the left hand column) there are weight loss ads. The ad I really need:
"Gaining Weight? Don't Quit Now; Eat New Double McGridles."

The most confusing ad so far was for pet stain removal. I think it may be because I talked about poop jokes. Apparently google doesn't realize that other things can poop other than pets...like me, penguins, and every person who eats breakfast toaster strudels.

What's the deal, no centered italics tonight?<<--I almost put some dashboard confessional lyrics in italics earlier in the post, but cut my wrists and blacked my eyes instead. (figuratively, and existentially. )

Nope none.

GoodNight

Shawshank Redemption

2009-03-02T00:23:00.005-05:00

"I would love to be in a strictly emotional relationship with Morgan Freeman...and if he asked for sex I would politely decline...unless he agreed to narrate it."

It would be soothing and yet powerful

I have discovered I can add a reactions thing: Your task, go through every post and mark your reactions: Funny, meh, or terrible.
Be honest, and if its more of a "other"...comment about it

Trick or Treat

2009-02-28T13:20:00.007-05:00

Have you googled negative eugenics yet? I've given you plenty of time. <<<--is it weird that a google blog's spell check doesn't believe google is a real word?.

Ok, so eugenics is terrible. Its the worst. It led to the genocide of millions of jews during WWII. Eugenics is the theory, maybe its a theory maybe its a process, i don't know what to call it...let's call it dave. Dave encourages "attractive" people to breed. Dave believes that by encouraging attractive people to breed, a super reace would be creative. Thus Dave discounts some races as inferior, thus Dave sucks. Sorry Dave.

So what the heck is negative eugenics. It sounds like it should be a good thing. The opposite of something terrible is usually pretty ok. So let's think about what it could be:

1. Forced breeding for everybody? This would be like if hippies decided to revolt and took over the government...then decided their form of rule would be fascist. I guess it fits, the pot will make them paranoid enough for fascism. I just can't picture the military dressed in bell bottoms and ponchos.

2. Nobody is allowed to have sex? Utopia! No downsides here...Cuddlefest '09. Who needs kids anyway? Bunnies are just as cute and their diapers are cheaper. <<--did you picture that? a bunny in a diaper? adorable.

3. Only ugly people are allowed to procreate? Where is the cut-off, i'm hoping about a 6 out of 10...for personal reasons. Too bad Jac will be stuck with a diaper bunny. That means your beautiful ;)

4. Inflammable/Flammable situation

Negative Eugenics is the discouragement of breeding among uggos

Thus, negative eugenics = eugenics = attractive people banging = Hitler's belief =

That means its crazy and nonsensical. Not napping is also nonsensical so:

GoodnighT

Negative Eugenics

2009-02-27T01:59:00.001-05:00

post coming soon, should be a treat.

feel better Jac.

Television Programming

2009-02-26T02:07:00.002-05:00

Who makes programming decisions? When I flip on comedy central i expect to watch something funny, or at least something that tries to be. <<--that means you mr. carlos mencia, we get it...you're mexican and loud. Let's just say Mencia is more of a madtv than a Saturday Night Live.

Mencia sucking is not the point. The point:

The Matrix was on BET today

When I think of BET and black culture, the first person I think of is Keanu Reeves. But I guess it makes sense, nothing fits in between beyonce and T.I. videos better than the Matrix. It may have just been an accident, some prank on the new white intern gone too far. Or what I like to think happened:

BET found out The Matrix is Barak Obama's favorite movie

That's an odd combination. I saw another odd combo at the grocery store today (no not baconnaise). <<-- Daily Show anybody? No, I saw one 40 year old gentlemen at the checkout with just three items. I assume for his dinner:

1. Bag of salad
2. Breyer's Ice Cream
3. Juicy Fruit

I see the scenario as follows, the salad is an appetizer, the ice cream is for dessert, and the gum is for freshening up before hitting the bar. What's missing? the main course. I'm sure he had his main course waiting for him back at home, probably a nicely roasted slice of loneliness.

I wonder if he owns a 1/3rd camo shirt?

GOODnight

Love Poem*

2009-02-23T22:30:00.006-05:00

My eyes light up when you're in the room
When you get up and leave, I need you back soon
Even in the morning your scent is sweet
Every time you smile, it knocks me off my feet

Crayola has a crayon labeled "your eyes" **
Because your blue is more vibrant than the sky's
The majesty of your body is a secret to be told
I am the luckiest, when it's you I get to hold

Honesty is at the heart of this relationship
So I hope it's ok that I let this slip
I know you see the girl I'm staring at

Baby I love you

But if I was single...I would hit that

I'm going to stay with you, that's right
But if you left me, I'd leave with her tonight
It's you and me baby in this thing called love
But I'd be in her*** if push comes to shove
Stop crying beautiful, we're not breaking up
It's just that if we did, I'd be on her C cups
We can still grow old and buy that cat
But if I was single...I would hit that

*To my girlfriend this is a work of fiction, if i was single i would sit alone in my room listening to emo music, watching finding nemo, and crying

**That line is totally pimp, feel free to use it in your endeavors

***Mom, its all just a metaphor for hugging, and playing board games

****I just realized that the "***" looks like I'm editing out something dirty

Paper Planes

2009-02-23T01:13:00.002-05:00

(because I have been MIA)

Big things have been happening; I've been in Nashville, Birthday Ball last night...but what's been on my mind?

My shower.

Its not hot! it hasn't been hot. I'm afraid it will never be hot. I will not let water temperature ruin my last semester in college. My shower is my world. I haven't had a single creative thought outside of a hot shower. <<--which could explain my posts lately
The shower is where I think, where I relax, where I cry, where I sleep, where I sing, where I create, and occasionally where I clean myself.

I like to take 30 minute + showers. You know, because I'm going green. And because it feels phenomenal. But with cold water, its the worst 30 minutes every morning. <<--yes, I do still take 30 minute showers, even when its cold. Because I deeply care about the environment...or rather because spite is a powerful weapon

Without spite, I would never get any exercise

I once did over 100 reps of curls in gym class simply because my teacher told us we had "to be doing something the entire period" Which clearly I needed to take literally. The same goes for running on the treadmill. "you won't be able to do that for all 30 minutes on level 9." Oh really, because spite says I can, and did.

I'm cold and tired.

A nice shower would solve that.

GOODNIGHT

Post of the day

2009-02-20T01:12:00.002-05:00

Hey friends.

I need to go to sleep so very bad[ly]. I always got yelled at for bad grammar as a kid.

This smells!

"How does it smell, does it have a nose?"

It never has a nose.
Got your nose! <<--I am that good, that i can steal a nose through the web.

This is stupid...I'll try again tomorrow.

Goodnight

Short & Sweet:

2009-02-18T23:36:00.005-05:00

Like my girlfriend :)

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

It seems cliche, but I know nothing about women. (Jacqueline, I'm sure you're shocked).
Most of the time I believe that girls don't dig me, even after I hear that they do. I find it easier to believe I am being laughed at...

"He looks like a twig wrapped in silly putty, rolled around in a pile of receding hairline."

When I was single, I used to go back to parties at home and girls would let me know that they used to have crushes on me. And that was a huge confidence builder...and at the same time a bigger lonely reminder.

I've even written a song about not being able to close with girls, based on several accounts of me being a pansy. I wouldn't even of had/still have those girlfriends had they not made the first move.

One invited me to the zoo, the other offered me money to man up and kiss her.

I haven't seen a dime

Somebody made fun of me being skinny by telling me the broom in corner was my uncle. It was funny, but upsetting because it was plausible. “Why’s ct in that bucket of soapy water?...oh its just a mop…too bad, he looks good with white dreads.”

GooDnight

Poop Jokes & Honey Buns

2009-02-18T00:27:00.002-05:00

The poop joke is a staple of any comic. I just control f'd my joke document; I found the word "poop" three times.

1. A joke about eating brownies...that ends with me hating my friends for feeding me...not brownies.

2. Poop Face: A person who, if for some reason they got a speck of poop on their face, would not immediately wipe it off. See Also: Fergie.

3. Adam Sandler impression.

Apparently as my conference comes to a close, the next one to take our spot is the 85th annual NWTF convention.

National Wild Turkey Federation

I assumed this was a retreat for wild turkeys, representing the weekend on the calendar that is the furthest date from the terrors of Thanksgiving. <<--Please don't fact check that Feb is farthest from November]

But apparently, this is thousands of wild turkey...hunters. My favorite of all the hunters.

I just wish they could extract the stuffing without killing the turkey.

I have seen a lot of comedians in the last 4 days, but the NWTF provided me with my healthiest and heartiest of laughs. There was one man, I will go out on a limb and say he's from the south, who was wearing an interesting shirt. At first, seemingly normal...until you realize that 1/3 of the shirt is camo, while the other 2/3 is an ordinary button down.

I recognize the relevance of camo to a hunter, but what possible situations could arise that would make having just the right side of your shirt be camouflaged. Is it easier to sneak up on a turkey sideways?

Is it the hunter's shirt version of the mullet?...business on the left, hunting party on the right.

But I think we discovered the real reason behind this soon to catch on fashion. We saw a second person wearing a partial camo shirt!

Its clearly a turkey hunter's version of a friendship bracelet.

One guy gets camo on the left, one on the right...and one lucky individual gets a camo strip right down the torso. BFFLWWKMTLTCTTSOBTT!

Best friends for life while we kill mother turkeys, leaving the children turkeys to starve or become turkey thieves.

Its a brotherhood.

Home tomorrow: GOODNIGHT