I have a friend in Medical School and in the next few weeks she has to prepare for the big test they give you after two years of doctor school. I know she was stressing so during lunch I sent her an email...
I'm pretty sure Boards are pending next month so you and your gang of future doctors are taking refuge in the library trying to prepare. I'm not too sure what Boards are so I like to let my imagination run wild on it. There was a commercial a few years ago for the Marines where it had a guy climbing a mountain and at the top was a dragon and for some reason a sword and he picked it up and slew the dragon and when the camera panned back out he was in his Marines uniform. That's kind of what I picture Boards being. Slaying a magical dragon that makes you into a Marine.
I even capitalized Boards to show it the respect I'm pretty sure it deserves. I want to create something famous and call it Boards so the medical community must think of another name for this big dragon-slaying test of theirs. Perhaps I'll create the ultimate board game, so ultimate that it requires multiple boards, more colored pieces than a crayon box, and so many dice that the ridiculous amount of dice the game comes with isn't enough and you have to steal the dice from all your other board games. It will put Monopoly, Life, and Risk to shame. And it wont take 4 hours to play a full game, but it could if you want it to. Its very fun. Its for ages 1 to 96. 97 year olds need not play Boards because they will not like it. And its not like how Candy Land is for 3 and Above and then you play it at 24 and you are reminded how f**king easy Candy Land is. Boards will evolve with you through your life.
There would be tournaments that would be televised and wars would stop when it showed. It would bring the world together in peace, until the game ended which would then erupt in a brutal nuclear war between the country that won and that which lost. Boards is a serious game to be played, but it can also be taken casually as a way to spend a quiet afternoon with your grandmother, as long as she under the age of 97. Games like football and soccer would vanish from the world's view, and video games would not longer encapsulate our youth, the entire populous would flock to Boards. And it wouldn't cause mass obesity because Boards can be as physically brutal as rock climbing a marathon, and that's not even for the advanced play settings.
Some people out there may not enjoy Boards, but they will be out casted from their families and loved ones and form a colony of people known only as "The Others" which are not spoken of while playing a game of Boards. Eventually men will roar, women will swoon, and children will laugh with glee at the one game which above all else will promote the quality of family and friendship and can also be used as a drinking game.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Big Change
I have a new job!
Sadly, I'll no longer be scanning documents for a living. I know this might upset a number of you out there that had paper scanning needs and thought you had an in. I'm sorry to disappoint. If it were up to me I would be there to help you out, but the world moves in odd ways and I've decide to go in a different direction. Is it a mistake to leave the glorious world of mindlessly scanning documents 8 hours a day? Yes, it is. But its a mistake I have to make for myself. In a years time I will probably look back at this post and wonder what was going through my brain that drove me to this decision.
Its no joke that since I've hit regular employment this was neglected. I hope this does not reflect on how I will care for my future children, but let's not kid ourselves, after two months kids lose their novelty and they're not really any fun until they can look after themselves and get you things from the store when you feel lazy.
May 28th I head down to Georgia until September 30th. I know I'll have access to computers and stuff and I'll try to put things up letting everyone know whats going on and still giving you what you come here for; 37 seconds of distraction.
All questions, comments, or concerns should be sent on an 8x10 of any celebrity with the first name David, written into a rap song, recorded and uploaded on a muxtape, or if you want to be boring, you can leave it in the comments section. But that's pretty lame.
Sadly, I'll no longer be scanning documents for a living. I know this might upset a number of you out there that had paper scanning needs and thought you had an in. I'm sorry to disappoint. If it were up to me I would be there to help you out, but the world moves in odd ways and I've decide to go in a different direction. Is it a mistake to leave the glorious world of mindlessly scanning documents 8 hours a day? Yes, it is. But its a mistake I have to make for myself. In a years time I will probably look back at this post and wonder what was going through my brain that drove me to this decision.
Its no joke that since I've hit regular employment this was neglected. I hope this does not reflect on how I will care for my future children, but let's not kid ourselves, after two months kids lose their novelty and they're not really any fun until they can look after themselves and get you things from the store when you feel lazy.
May 28th I head down to Georgia until September 30th. I know I'll have access to computers and stuff and I'll try to put things up letting everyone know whats going on and still giving you what you come here for; 37 seconds of distraction.
All questions, comments, or concerns should be sent on an 8x10 of any celebrity with the first name David, written into a rap song, recorded and uploaded on a muxtape, or if you want to be boring, you can leave it in the comments section. But that's pretty lame.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Cleanliness is Godliness and God is Billy Corgan.
I need to buy soap.
I put it up here for a few reasons. The first is my hope that someone will read this and then proceed to ask me if I have yet to acquire soap, to which the answer will either be to the affirmative or remind me that, I do indeed, still need to buy soap. The second is connected to the first that I really do need to buy soap. It would also be helpful to note that I am running low on shampoo as well. Picking that up while I was out buying soap would be the most effective way for me to solve both of these problems. So hopefully after someone reads this entry they will choose to ask me if I am in possession of replacement soap which would start my pilgrimage to the store to buy said soap and then, if they would have the decency, chose to wait ten minutes and call me again asking if I have picked up shampoo since, at that point, I should be in the cue at the checkout line with my soap having completely forgotten about the shampoo until the phone call which would remind me that I should make a shampoo purchase as well.
My life is a lot like the game Mouse Trap, if the marble dropping off the slide doesn't hit the level holding the diving man just right, he won't hit the cup, sending the ball doesn't the chute, knocking the pillar, and trapping the mouse. And if you're anything like me, you could never get Mouse Trap to work properly.
Hope that's not a bad sign.
Between the job, the gym, and now training Brazilian Ju-Jitsu three times a week, I've been having a hard time figuring out when to get any thoughts down on here. I seriously stand in a corner and scan documents all day with no access to internet or the outside world. I don't even have windows and normally I'm the only person in the office until 1:00 or 2:00pm. It gives me a lot of time to think but most my thoughts revolve around "why the f**k am I stuck scanning documents?!!"
I never want this to become a "This Is My Day" kind of site, so bear with me and I'll figure something out.
I put it up here for a few reasons. The first is my hope that someone will read this and then proceed to ask me if I have yet to acquire soap, to which the answer will either be to the affirmative or remind me that, I do indeed, still need to buy soap. The second is connected to the first that I really do need to buy soap. It would also be helpful to note that I am running low on shampoo as well. Picking that up while I was out buying soap would be the most effective way for me to solve both of these problems. So hopefully after someone reads this entry they will choose to ask me if I am in possession of replacement soap which would start my pilgrimage to the store to buy said soap and then, if they would have the decency, chose to wait ten minutes and call me again asking if I have picked up shampoo since, at that point, I should be in the cue at the checkout line with my soap having completely forgotten about the shampoo until the phone call which would remind me that I should make a shampoo purchase as well.
My life is a lot like the game Mouse Trap, if the marble dropping off the slide doesn't hit the level holding the diving man just right, he won't hit the cup, sending the ball doesn't the chute, knocking the pillar, and trapping the mouse. And if you're anything like me, you could never get Mouse Trap to work properly.
Hope that's not a bad sign.
Between the job, the gym, and now training Brazilian Ju-Jitsu three times a week, I've been having a hard time figuring out when to get any thoughts down on here. I seriously stand in a corner and scan documents all day with no access to internet or the outside world. I don't even have windows and normally I'm the only person in the office until 1:00 or 2:00pm. It gives me a lot of time to think but most my thoughts revolve around "why the f**k am I stuck scanning documents?!!"
I never want this to become a "This Is My Day" kind of site, so bear with me and I'll figure something out.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
MuxTapes!
I've been really f**king lazy lately.
Well, actually I've been working all day and hitting the gym then coming back and crashing so its not your usual definition of lazy. But lazy for all of you that check this thing and shake your fists in anger about me not writing.
I'm not changing that right now, I'm still figuring out when to write new columns. I have a shitload of new ideas because my job isn't too mentally tasking so it gives me a lot of time to think of oddball quirks of life. Though I can't complain, it is a paycheck. However I'm pretty sure my unemployment lasted long enough that when I go deposit my check, my bank will call me about suspicious activity on my account.
Another thing I want to pimp right now is a new site called MuxTape.com It's real simple and a great way to show your friends what you're really digging right now. I'm always looking for new music and I'm really picky so I encourage everyone to make one and send me the link. You can leave it in the comment section or if you want to impress me use smoke signals.
Is the art of smoke signals dead yet? Much like the waltz, it takes two people that know what they're doing in order to succeed, otherwise some guy is just ruining a perfectly good blanket.
Anyway, my Muxtape can be found at http://dmac1983.muxtape.com and I'll add it to the sidebar too. Right now its just a mix of songs I threw up there. I'm not your typical improv/comedy guy that's into inde music or a guy playing a jug and a harmonica but I'll try to keep it to things most people wouldn't stumble across on their own as much as I can.
And one of these days I'll figure out a time to write.
Well, actually I've been working all day and hitting the gym then coming back and crashing so its not your usual definition of lazy. But lazy for all of you that check this thing and shake your fists in anger about me not writing.
I'm not changing that right now, I'm still figuring out when to write new columns. I have a shitload of new ideas because my job isn't too mentally tasking so it gives me a lot of time to think of oddball quirks of life. Though I can't complain, it is a paycheck. However I'm pretty sure my unemployment lasted long enough that when I go deposit my check, my bank will call me about suspicious activity on my account.
Another thing I want to pimp right now is a new site called MuxTape.com It's real simple and a great way to show your friends what you're really digging right now. I'm always looking for new music and I'm really picky so I encourage everyone to make one and send me the link. You can leave it in the comment section or if you want to impress me use smoke signals.
Is the art of smoke signals dead yet? Much like the waltz, it takes two people that know what they're doing in order to succeed, otherwise some guy is just ruining a perfectly good blanket.
Anyway, my Muxtape can be found at http://dmac1983.muxtape.com and I'll add it to the sidebar too. Right now its just a mix of songs I threw up there. I'm not your typical improv/comedy guy that's into inde music or a guy playing a jug and a harmonica but I'll try to keep it to things most people wouldn't stumble across on their own as much as I can.
And one of these days I'll figure out a time to write.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Being Employed
I got a new job!
It's kind of a "real" job. It has potential to be, I should say. At this moment, I am not going to crack open the bottle of whiskey that shares a birthday with me in celebration but at least it gets me out of the house and collecting a regular paycheck. But I had to start the week after daylight savings, the suckiest week to ever start anything. And with a job, they expect you to go in, like, everyday, like, pretty early in the morning.
What could this glorious of glory job be, you ask? I scan documents all day. On my second day I counted how many I accomplished. That day, 414. The next, 508. And then today, I clocked in a whopping 510! This whole week I've done nothing but scan documents, but at least I'm good at it. The irritating part is the gorilla they trained to do the same job is good at it too. And he smokes.
Scanning documents is a lot like making copies, except at the end of the day, you don't get the reward of actually having copies.
Today while going through some of those 510 documents, I came across a name that caught my attention. The page read "Alan Bagelsmith, Architect." And for some reason this threw me off, because there are some names out there that tie you into certain career opportunities. I'm just saying, if your name is Bagelsmith and your occupation does not have anything to do with the production and selling of bagels then you have severely missed your calling.
If your name is Mike Pimpinbitches, I'm sorry, but being a doctor is not in the cards for you.
It's kind of a "real" job. It has potential to be, I should say. At this moment, I am not going to crack open the bottle of whiskey that shares a birthday with me in celebration but at least it gets me out of the house and collecting a regular paycheck. But I had to start the week after daylight savings, the suckiest week to ever start anything. And with a job, they expect you to go in, like, everyday, like, pretty early in the morning.
What could this glorious of glory job be, you ask? I scan documents all day. On my second day I counted how many I accomplished. That day, 414. The next, 508. And then today, I clocked in a whopping 510! This whole week I've done nothing but scan documents, but at least I'm good at it. The irritating part is the gorilla they trained to do the same job is good at it too. And he smokes.
Scanning documents is a lot like making copies, except at the end of the day, you don't get the reward of actually having copies.
Today while going through some of those 510 documents, I came across a name that caught my attention. The page read "Alan Bagelsmith, Architect." And for some reason this threw me off, because there are some names out there that tie you into certain career opportunities. I'm just saying, if your name is Bagelsmith and your occupation does not have anything to do with the production and selling of bagels then you have severely missed your calling.
If your name is Mike Pimpinbitches, I'm sorry, but being a doctor is not in the cards for you.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Ahoy-hoy
It's Alexander Graham Bell's Birthday.
If you don't know who AGB is you're probably not too bright, but that's okay if you're pretty. Its not my standard, but I stand by it. For those of you C-Cups and above, Bell was the first to patent the telephone. By all accounts of what they teach you in 7th grade history class, he was the inventor of the telephone, but there is some argument. If you want to fight about it we'll do it with knives, like real men, as for now let's move on.
AGB was all about answering the telephone "Ahoy-hoy." I've been known to answer my phone with this and people seem to get really thrown off. After how many consecutive phone calls does my salutation no longer shock you? I'm sorry I am not conforming to the status quo. My response was to say "Look, if you don't like it then stop calling!" Supposedly, no one liked it...
But Monty Burns was not the only reason I started using Ahoy-hoy! The word hello only came about in 1883. Its amazing to think of how someone would greet each other without this word being in common use. Hello is slang that has stuck around. If you were to travel back in time 100 years and try to hold a conversation with someone they'd be like "WTF?!" and even more "WTF?!" when I said "WTF?!" If it's one thing I worry about, its being able to blend with the public if I'm ever caught in a situation which randomly hurls me back in through the channels of time placing me at important events that helped mold life as we know it today. It keeps me up at night.
But today, or more likely yesterday, we celebrate the achievements of this great man. I'm not sure if he did anything else great that is known to the public, but I feel he deserves at least one more credential under his belt. Inventors, like many creative people, probably work best late at night, so when those famous first words of, "Mr. Watson - Come Here - I Want To See You." were spoken it was probably in the wee hours of the morning. Thus, AGB transmitted not only the first electromagnetic voice, he made the first booty call. Because anything after 11:00pm is not for business purposes.
If you don't know who AGB is you're probably not too bright, but that's okay if you're pretty. Its not my standard, but I stand by it. For those of you C-Cups and above, Bell was the first to patent the telephone. By all accounts of what they teach you in 7th grade history class, he was the inventor of the telephone, but there is some argument. If you want to fight about it we'll do it with knives, like real men, as for now let's move on.
AGB was all about answering the telephone "Ahoy-hoy." I've been known to answer my phone with this and people seem to get really thrown off. After how many consecutive phone calls does my salutation no longer shock you? I'm sorry I am not conforming to the status quo. My response was to say "Look, if you don't like it then stop calling!" Supposedly, no one liked it...
But Monty Burns was not the only reason I started using Ahoy-hoy! The word hello only came about in 1883. Its amazing to think of how someone would greet each other without this word being in common use. Hello is slang that has stuck around. If you were to travel back in time 100 years and try to hold a conversation with someone they'd be like "WTF?!" and even more "WTF?!" when I said "WTF?!" If it's one thing I worry about, its being able to blend with the public if I'm ever caught in a situation which randomly hurls me back in through the channels of time placing me at important events that helped mold life as we know it today. It keeps me up at night.
But today, or more likely yesterday, we celebrate the achievements of this great man. I'm not sure if he did anything else great that is known to the public, but I feel he deserves at least one more credential under his belt. Inventors, like many creative people, probably work best late at night, so when those famous first words of, "Mr. Watson - Come Here - I Want To See You." were spoken it was probably in the wee hours of the morning. Thus, AGB transmitted not only the first electromagnetic voice, he made the first booty call. Because anything after 11:00pm is not for business purposes.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
To Be Deleted
I swear, I'm going to post something new soon. I had a busy weekend out in Pennslyvania and then my buddy John came out on business for two days and tonight I was talking to my dad about nothing in particular for an hour after I got home from the gym...
I kept changing my little status message to the right but I know that's not enough to feed your need for me. I have ideas of what I'd like to write about on scraps of paper around my desk but don't feel like starting anything new at 12:30am.
I'll leave you with a teaser of the kind of things that I see when I'm out that spark ideas I incorporate in my writing:
I was taking a leak in a bar and thought of how ridiculous it would be to have a little kids urinal in a bar bathroom.
There was a guy at the gym using a machine that works the baby-pushing muscles in women. I wanted to let him know that machine isnt meant for men, but instead I continued to silently judge him
My cat needs a bath but its a two person job... who wants to help bath my cat
I really wrote this because I'm really paranoid about the people I don't know personally thinking I'm a big f**king loser for not entertaining them on enough of a schedule. People that know me may be jealous of how much I care about you. But anyway, once I go to do a real update (which should be soon) I'll delete this post like it never happened. Who knows, you may be the only person ever to read this piece of crap.
I'm not even bothering with spell check
I kept changing my little status message to the right but I know that's not enough to feed your need for me. I have ideas of what I'd like to write about on scraps of paper around my desk but don't feel like starting anything new at 12:30am.
I'll leave you with a teaser of the kind of things that I see when I'm out that spark ideas I incorporate in my writing:
I was taking a leak in a bar and thought of how ridiculous it would be to have a little kids urinal in a bar bathroom.
There was a guy at the gym using a machine that works the baby-pushing muscles in women. I wanted to let him know that machine isnt meant for men, but instead I continued to silently judge him
My cat needs a bath but its a two person job... who wants to help bath my cat
I really wrote this because I'm really paranoid about the people I don't know personally thinking I'm a big f**king loser for not entertaining them on enough of a schedule. People that know me may be jealous of how much I care about you. But anyway, once I go to do a real update (which should be soon) I'll delete this post like it never happened. Who knows, you may be the only person ever to read this piece of crap.
I'm not even bothering with spell check
Monday, February 18, 2008
The Rumor Mill
To be honest, I'm a pretty boring guy.
When it comes to going out on weekends, I'd much rather have a chill night watching a movie than ever trying to dance at a club. I have boring hobbies. I enjoy bowling, skeeball, and though it may seem strange, washing dishes. I like a show that's on at 10pm on Friday nights and always contemplate not going out so I can watch it even though the TiVo is set to record. I watched the entire Daytona 500 to "see if I could get into NASCAR." And when out at a bar, I occasionally wish I could be writing or at the gym. If I were a celebrity the tabloids wouldn't even have the courtesy to stake out my house with telephoto lenses.
Supposedly, people don't completely accept how boring I am. Some only know me from being on stage with my improv group or heard one of the three stories from college which made it seem like my roommates and I did things besides drink while playing video games, so they cannot wrap their head around me being the type of guy that enjoys blankets and on-demand.
Now, I hope this didn't bring people down to a crashing reality where up is down, black is white, and I do not prefer blondes. But in case this has happened, I have chosen to put a few rumors out there to mill about. Perhaps this will help blend the real me with the celebrity me to make a star ready for his own Behind the Comedy. As with any rumor, the amount of truth incorporated varies. Some are 100% true things about me that some may find odd. Some are exaggerated with grains of truth mixed in. And some are completely made up.
- I am a wannabe-mustache aficionado. If I could grow facial hair, I would be sporting a Tom Selleck mustache at all times.
- I was not aware of how horrific of a speller I was until a friend decided to repeatedly point it out to me. Now, occasionally, when I use an uncommonly used word and spell it right, I will be very proud of that, but cannot tell the reader about it because it would kill the joke.
- I am allergic to people of the Jewish faith.
- I not a fan of it being even slightly chilly that I once turned down a rather attractive girl that wanted to go skinny dipping.
- I have 10 pages of my own quotes in a Word document titled "Acts of Randomness".
- I shaved my chest once to see how it looked but felt it took too much concentration around the nips to prevent injury that I decided not to keep doing it.
- There is an application that tells me how many people check out the site and when I see that number grow when I haven't uploaded anything in a while I start to feel really bad. I am also really curious who is checking out the site from Kansas. You, whoever you are, are amazing.
- Before taking tests in college I would coat the top of my mouth in peanut butter so I'd have a snack.
- I haven't been carded in a liquor store since graduating college, but the other week I got carded at the movie theater when I went to see Rambo.
I like this idea. I'm thinking of making this one of my reoccurring articles like AoR: Old School. It’s like confessing, but you don't know what's completely true. Even if you know what is and isn't true, that veil of ignorance of comedy shields me from having to admit anything.
When it comes to going out on weekends, I'd much rather have a chill night watching a movie than ever trying to dance at a club. I have boring hobbies. I enjoy bowling, skeeball, and though it may seem strange, washing dishes. I like a show that's on at 10pm on Friday nights and always contemplate not going out so I can watch it even though the TiVo is set to record. I watched the entire Daytona 500 to "see if I could get into NASCAR." And when out at a bar, I occasionally wish I could be writing or at the gym. If I were a celebrity the tabloids wouldn't even have the courtesy to stake out my house with telephoto lenses.
Supposedly, people don't completely accept how boring I am. Some only know me from being on stage with my improv group or heard one of the three stories from college which made it seem like my roommates and I did things besides drink while playing video games, so they cannot wrap their head around me being the type of guy that enjoys blankets and on-demand.
Now, I hope this didn't bring people down to a crashing reality where up is down, black is white, and I do not prefer blondes. But in case this has happened, I have chosen to put a few rumors out there to mill about. Perhaps this will help blend the real me with the celebrity me to make a star ready for his own Behind the Comedy. As with any rumor, the amount of truth incorporated varies. Some are 100% true things about me that some may find odd. Some are exaggerated with grains of truth mixed in. And some are completely made up.
- I am a wannabe-mustache aficionado. If I could grow facial hair, I would be sporting a Tom Selleck mustache at all times.
- I was not aware of how horrific of a speller I was until a friend decided to repeatedly point it out to me. Now, occasionally, when I use an uncommonly used word and spell it right, I will be very proud of that, but cannot tell the reader about it because it would kill the joke.
- I am allergic to people of the Jewish faith.
- I not a fan of it being even slightly chilly that I once turned down a rather attractive girl that wanted to go skinny dipping.
- I have 10 pages of my own quotes in a Word document titled "Acts of Randomness".
- I shaved my chest once to see how it looked but felt it took too much concentration around the nips to prevent injury that I decided not to keep doing it.
- There is an application that tells me how many people check out the site and when I see that number grow when I haven't uploaded anything in a while I start to feel really bad. I am also really curious who is checking out the site from Kansas. You, whoever you are, are amazing.
- Before taking tests in college I would coat the top of my mouth in peanut butter so I'd have a snack.
- I haven't been carded in a liquor store since graduating college, but the other week I got carded at the movie theater when I went to see Rambo.
I like this idea. I'm thinking of making this one of my reoccurring articles like AoR: Old School. It’s like confessing, but you don't know what's completely true. Even if you know what is and isn't true, that veil of ignorance of comedy shields me from having to admit anything.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Mangina Monologues
With Valentine's Day looming, I have put together an argument for the Alpha Males, the Y Chromosomes, and all the other people out there that have contemplated eating an entire jar of mayonnaise for $20.
So sit down, tuck yourself in, and enjoy "The Mangina Monologues."
I am a guy. I can make anything that is said sound dirty. Whether it's a presidential speech or part of a eulogy given at a loved one's funeral I will find the imbedded innuendo and expose it for all to view. With the slightest twinge of my voice and a raise of one eyebrow, "Baking cookies at Cindy's place," isn't just an activity that has to stop at the kitchen.
I'll admit that I get teary-eyed during some Lifetime movies, but that's because of the death grip you have on my upper arm during the crying scene where Jane is giving her testimony against Tad in the domestic violence case. But I sit through these movies with you because I want to show that my emotions extend farther than the NFC Championship game.
My senior history project in high school was a 40' by 40' copy of the Declaration of Independence complete with all the signatures of the Founding Fathers... in the snow.
I will be involved in a bet that not only puts my health, safety, and/or sanity at risk, but I will also put my friends', families' or the entire human population on the line in order to win $5. But I throw out all my inhabitations if the bet includes no money at all, only pride.
The History Channel, Comedy Central, and the Discovery Channel are the sources of all the information I know. Political news is easy doled out between 11pm and midnight, we can always fall back on making custom motorcycles if that corporate finance degree falls through, and we all understand science is easier when done with a handlebar mustache and a berret.
I don't understand why culinary departments in stores are so huge because anything that can't be cooked on a charcoal grill should not be made for human consumption. I mean, come on, beans come in tin cans for a reason.
But all of this is nothing unless I have a girl to brag to as she pulls me away from the fight "I was totally going to win," against that Marine, and lets me know she'll get declawed as soon as I agree to get neutered.
So sit down, tuck yourself in, and enjoy "The Mangina Monologues."
I am a guy. I can make anything that is said sound dirty. Whether it's a presidential speech or part of a eulogy given at a loved one's funeral I will find the imbedded innuendo and expose it for all to view. With the slightest twinge of my voice and a raise of one eyebrow, "Baking cookies at Cindy's place," isn't just an activity that has to stop at the kitchen.
I'll admit that I get teary-eyed during some Lifetime movies, but that's because of the death grip you have on my upper arm during the crying scene where Jane is giving her testimony against Tad in the domestic violence case. But I sit through these movies with you because I want to show that my emotions extend farther than the NFC Championship game.
My senior history project in high school was a 40' by 40' copy of the Declaration of Independence complete with all the signatures of the Founding Fathers... in the snow.
I will be involved in a bet that not only puts my health, safety, and/or sanity at risk, but I will also put my friends', families' or the entire human population on the line in order to win $5. But I throw out all my inhabitations if the bet includes no money at all, only pride.
The History Channel, Comedy Central, and the Discovery Channel are the sources of all the information I know. Political news is easy doled out between 11pm and midnight, we can always fall back on making custom motorcycles if that corporate finance degree falls through, and we all understand science is easier when done with a handlebar mustache and a berret.
I don't understand why culinary departments in stores are so huge because anything that can't be cooked on a charcoal grill should not be made for human consumption. I mean, come on, beans come in tin cans for a reason.
But all of this is nothing unless I have a girl to brag to as she pulls me away from the fight "I was totally going to win," against that Marine, and lets me know she'll get declawed as soon as I agree to get neutered.
Monday, February 11, 2008
P's & K's
Only you can prevent forest fires.
That's such bullshit, because if it was the case the world would be screwed. Even though my father has been a firefighter for over thirty years does not mean I am the type to run into a burning building. Besides your tasty bites after a run in with a wanderer down at the pub, wood burns, so I do not want to run into a place where I am surrounded by potential killer energy. It may not be gulfed in flames while I'm on a casual stroll with my ladyfriend in the middle of the afternoon, but I've seen the PSA's. All it takes it one stray cigarette butt being flicked out of a car and we can find ourselves surrounded by a wall of fire where my only option for survival is leaving her behind. Sure, it’s an easy decision, but I sweat a lot and I don't want her final thoughts to be how funky I smell, though it will make it easier for me to get away from her grasping hands slipping on my wet skin as she screams for me not to leave.
To get a bit scientific, every object has potential and kinetic energy. When an object is at rest, it has 100% potential energy. Once that object starts to move, the energy switches to kinetic. This is a dumbed down version of the explanation I don't fully understand myself, so if you wish to point out any flaws in my version of the argument, feel free to also share with us stories of the many lunches you ate alone in the library during high school. You big geek.
It may be that my Xanax prescription is running low, but I see the world in this scope of potential and kinetic problems. Some are more extreme than others, but if you watch any Will Smith movie it will tell you one day you're leading a normal life and everything is fine, and then something will derail you; be it extra-terrestrial or... well, mostly extra-terrestrial. And if you're not ready for it, you will be left behind by those of us that are. It's nothing personal, but in the event of the early invasion of the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads, I will not be slowed down and allowed to be found by their large tracking animals which resemble armadillos and can smell heightened adrenaline in humans, and ultimately placed in a zoo on their home planet where I have to spend the rest of my life living with you in a glass cube outfitted to look like a swanky 1980's NYC apartment.
Anyone that has ever tried to assimilate another person into their life, be it in a consenting relationship or the random folk in your basement learning the Ludovico technique, knows it is impossible to live in a retroactive world dealing with only kinetic problems. But with time, and the correct preparation, you can be ready for all potential situations. Are you ready or are you going to be left behind?
That's such bullshit, because if it was the case the world would be screwed. Even though my father has been a firefighter for over thirty years does not mean I am the type to run into a burning building. Besides your tasty bites after a run in with a wanderer down at the pub, wood burns, so I do not want to run into a place where I am surrounded by potential killer energy. It may not be gulfed in flames while I'm on a casual stroll with my ladyfriend in the middle of the afternoon, but I've seen the PSA's. All it takes it one stray cigarette butt being flicked out of a car and we can find ourselves surrounded by a wall of fire where my only option for survival is leaving her behind. Sure, it’s an easy decision, but I sweat a lot and I don't want her final thoughts to be how funky I smell, though it will make it easier for me to get away from her grasping hands slipping on my wet skin as she screams for me not to leave.
To get a bit scientific, every object has potential and kinetic energy. When an object is at rest, it has 100% potential energy. Once that object starts to move, the energy switches to kinetic. This is a dumbed down version of the explanation I don't fully understand myself, so if you wish to point out any flaws in my version of the argument, feel free to also share with us stories of the many lunches you ate alone in the library during high school. You big geek.
It may be that my Xanax prescription is running low, but I see the world in this scope of potential and kinetic problems. Some are more extreme than others, but if you watch any Will Smith movie it will tell you one day you're leading a normal life and everything is fine, and then something will derail you; be it extra-terrestrial or... well, mostly extra-terrestrial. And if you're not ready for it, you will be left behind by those of us that are. It's nothing personal, but in the event of the early invasion of the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads, I will not be slowed down and allowed to be found by their large tracking animals which resemble armadillos and can smell heightened adrenaline in humans, and ultimately placed in a zoo on their home planet where I have to spend the rest of my life living with you in a glass cube outfitted to look like a swanky 1980's NYC apartment.
Anyone that has ever tried to assimilate another person into their life, be it in a consenting relationship or the random folk in your basement learning the Ludovico technique, knows it is impossible to live in a retroactive world dealing with only kinetic problems. But with time, and the correct preparation, you can be ready for all potential situations. Are you ready or are you going to be left behind?
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Acts of Randomness: Old School II
At the end of the articles I used to put all the thoughts which came to me that I didn't feel like developing into quick one-liners. These thoughts came to be called "Acts of Randomness," so now I'm going to kick it old school to get rid of some of the ideas that have been populating my head lately.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- The only time I would want a heated toilet seat would be if I lived alone. Though, even then every time I went to drop a deuce I'd be paranoid of intruders lurking in the shadows feeling light and refreshed.
- One of my goals is to be a late night talk show host. I would even work for free as long as I got to play with exotic baby animals at least once a week. That's actually the only reason I want the gig.
- My stock of post-it notes is running low. In college, I had pads upon pads which held one idea each, and now I have three of various color that are so full I've had to start writing in the sticky part. They really were the best four years of my life.
- Opening a Capri Sun is just as hard now as it was when I was a kid. If offered, I will politely decline any invitation to one because of the embarrassment.
- I find Girl Scout Cookie preference to be one of the sexiest things about a woman. Find me a girl with a matched love for somoas, and I will show you the girl I'm going to marry... then end up in an ultimately violent custody battle with.
- Ending a sentence in a preposition is a grammar no-no, but sentence structure is the death of me when it comes to writing. The real death of me will come around in 2024 after the Heimlich maneuver is dubbed inhumane and I choke on a hot dog after throwing away a bunch of random crap shoved in a box together that remarkably was beautiful if you didn't try to figure out every individual piece; irony.
- February and March are named for tolerance, so I feel its important to refer to the great strides this country has made amongst the differences we all have. I am proud to call anyone my friend regardless of their race, sex, or political affiliation... unless you have an outie.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- The only time I would want a heated toilet seat would be if I lived alone. Though, even then every time I went to drop a deuce I'd be paranoid of intruders lurking in the shadows feeling light and refreshed.
- One of my goals is to be a late night talk show host. I would even work for free as long as I got to play with exotic baby animals at least once a week. That's actually the only reason I want the gig.
- My stock of post-it notes is running low. In college, I had pads upon pads which held one idea each, and now I have three of various color that are so full I've had to start writing in the sticky part. They really were the best four years of my life.
- Opening a Capri Sun is just as hard now as it was when I was a kid. If offered, I will politely decline any invitation to one because of the embarrassment.
- I find Girl Scout Cookie preference to be one of the sexiest things about a woman. Find me a girl with a matched love for somoas, and I will show you the girl I'm going to marry... then end up in an ultimately violent custody battle with.
- Ending a sentence in a preposition is a grammar no-no, but sentence structure is the death of me when it comes to writing. The real death of me will come around in 2024 after the Heimlich maneuver is dubbed inhumane and I choke on a hot dog after throwing away a bunch of random crap shoved in a box together that remarkably was beautiful if you didn't try to figure out every individual piece; irony.
- February and March are named for tolerance, so I feel its important to refer to the great strides this country has made amongst the differences we all have. I am proud to call anyone my friend regardless of their race, sex, or political affiliation... unless you have an outie.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Driver's Ed
"You're gonna go out there driving, and kill your friends!"
That is the first thing my Driver's Ed teacher said to the class back in high school. And it wasn't like he misspoke, because he then said it a second time very slowly. There we are a bunch of 16 year olds, excited to finally have the chance to drive ourselves to the mall or see how many people we can fit into a '96 Buick Century before bottoming out on a speed bump, and the first words out of his mouth burn the image of body parts strewn about on a hazy roadway late at night while a state trooper whispers "stupid kids" under his breath. That was eight years, and today while behind the wheel, I thought maybe he had a point.
Does anyone remember the checklist of things you should do every time before driving off? Check out the exterior of the car to make sure everything is in working order, checking under the car to in case an elderly picking up a coin has not slipped beneath your chasse, and adjusting the seat, mirrors, and steering wheel in order to have complete control of the car. All of this is very important to keep yourself, and others, safe on the road so if I do all of these things at the same time, it more than triples the amount of safety I am dispensing to the world, and if I do them while in motion, its not only safety times three, its convenient for me. I should write PSAs.
Besides, there are so many pet shelters around with animals looking for a good home you're bound to find one that looks remarkably like the cat you ran over that your neighbors won't even know.
That is the first thing my Driver's Ed teacher said to the class back in high school. And it wasn't like he misspoke, because he then said it a second time very slowly. There we are a bunch of 16 year olds, excited to finally have the chance to drive ourselves to the mall or see how many people we can fit into a '96 Buick Century before bottoming out on a speed bump, and the first words out of his mouth burn the image of body parts strewn about on a hazy roadway late at night while a state trooper whispers "stupid kids" under his breath. That was eight years, and today while behind the wheel, I thought maybe he had a point.
Does anyone remember the checklist of things you should do every time before driving off? Check out the exterior of the car to make sure everything is in working order, checking under the car to in case an elderly picking up a coin has not slipped beneath your chasse, and adjusting the seat, mirrors, and steering wheel in order to have complete control of the car. All of this is very important to keep yourself, and others, safe on the road so if I do all of these things at the same time, it more than triples the amount of safety I am dispensing to the world, and if I do them while in motion, its not only safety times three, its convenient for me. I should write PSAs.
Besides, there are so many pet shelters around with animals looking for a good home you're bound to find one that looks remarkably like the cat you ran over that your neighbors won't even know.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Brush like a Dentist, Wipe like a Proctologist
I'm big on oral hygiene, it's the most important of all the hygienes.
As such, I take a lot of care in dealing with my teeth and the maintenance there of, so I'm very picky about what I use. I prefer for my mouthwash to have the highest alcohol content available because not only does the burn tell me its working, if prohibition ever comes around again I'm all set. I grew up in a very diverse area so I don't have a preference on color of mouth wash, and when it comes to flavor I think they should be rated much like Taco Bell sauces from "I can feel it working" to "Is it normal for my saliva to turn acidic?" to "My gums seem to be alarmingly radioactive."
With brushing, I prefer to self-scrub over the use of an electric toothbrush. And its not because of my overlying fear of technology becoming self-aware and taking over the Earth in an epic battle we can never win, I'm just not a fan of slowly going tooth by tooth with the slow spinning sphere brush. I just purchased a new toothbrush and with so many different types out there it can be hard for some people to narrow the search. For me, I went for the rigor mortis Fraggle look for my brush. A bunch of different colors and jagged edges scientifically proven to cleanse my mouth by losing enough blood through my gums that my body almost gives out. If I could use steel wool I probably would, but then there's the possibility of contracting lockjaw, and if I'm getting tetanus it's going to be from something manly like stepping on a nail or getting my leg amputated in the field of battle.
When it comes to brushing styles, I don't have a game plan going in. I'm not standing there counting strokes, or have a set pattern to change it up to a swirling counter-clockwise motion as I move to the cuspids. I don't know what I'm gonna do, sometimes I pull a sneak move on myself, moving towards the molars on the right only to slide to the left and dance around the bottom shelf for a while. During my time away at college, I took notice of other people's brushing styles and have realized that most normal people do not look like rabid badgers after they're done brushing. This is considerably different than myself, who was tranquilized by the park service after a rigorous brush session while camping last summer. So if you produce more foam than the makers of those large #1 fingers, you are not alone, my friend.
And f**k flossing, it's such a hassle. Gah! I have things to do with my day!
As such, I take a lot of care in dealing with my teeth and the maintenance there of, so I'm very picky about what I use. I prefer for my mouthwash to have the highest alcohol content available because not only does the burn tell me its working, if prohibition ever comes around again I'm all set. I grew up in a very diverse area so I don't have a preference on color of mouth wash, and when it comes to flavor I think they should be rated much like Taco Bell sauces from "I can feel it working" to "Is it normal for my saliva to turn acidic?" to "My gums seem to be alarmingly radioactive."
With brushing, I prefer to self-scrub over the use of an electric toothbrush. And its not because of my overlying fear of technology becoming self-aware and taking over the Earth in an epic battle we can never win, I'm just not a fan of slowly going tooth by tooth with the slow spinning sphere brush. I just purchased a new toothbrush and with so many different types out there it can be hard for some people to narrow the search. For me, I went for the rigor mortis Fraggle look for my brush. A bunch of different colors and jagged edges scientifically proven to cleanse my mouth by losing enough blood through my gums that my body almost gives out. If I could use steel wool I probably would, but then there's the possibility of contracting lockjaw, and if I'm getting tetanus it's going to be from something manly like stepping on a nail or getting my leg amputated in the field of battle.
When it comes to brushing styles, I don't have a game plan going in. I'm not standing there counting strokes, or have a set pattern to change it up to a swirling counter-clockwise motion as I move to the cuspids. I don't know what I'm gonna do, sometimes I pull a sneak move on myself, moving towards the molars on the right only to slide to the left and dance around the bottom shelf for a while. During my time away at college, I took notice of other people's brushing styles and have realized that most normal people do not look like rabid badgers after they're done brushing. This is considerably different than myself, who was tranquilized by the park service after a rigorous brush session while camping last summer. So if you produce more foam than the makers of those large #1 fingers, you are not alone, my friend.
And f**k flossing, it's such a hassle. Gah! I have things to do with my day!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Staring at the Sun
Riding into the sunset doesn't seem to be all that great.
Granted, it's very dramatic and a great way to end a Western, but in reality you are stuck starring directly into the sun. What is so great about riding off into the sunset anyway? Is having a sense of accomplishment followed by an overbearing desire to travel due West? Yes, I know its a metaphor for kicking the bucket but I'm the type of guy that wears sunglasses more days than most people wear pants, I don't appreciate the whole "Walk into the Light" deal; I have sensitive eyes.
Besides, walking away towards the horizon has been done to death. Every other movie has a character gently disappear in a glimmer of light never to return to the land of the living except to do arts and crafts or take a most bogus journey. Where's the creativity? Where's the original idea of what it's like after you realize that packing a parachute is best left in the hands of professionals? Not many people have near-death experiences, and to rely on such a small number of accounts is not scientifically secure in determining the accuracy of such stories. It is only right to weigh out other viable options.
Perhaps you simply snap back into life, like a long blink. Reincarnation. One of those Asian religions was big on it. Everyone has found themselves watching a Discovery Channel documentary, turned to their roommate and mumbled something about how cool it would be to be a penguin. Maybe there's even an evolution to reincarnation. First, starting off as a simple life form, such as bacteria or an amoeba, and gradually working your way up to the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads. With each successful jump you take a bit of your past with you, so the greasy kid from high school was part slug, your track star friend came from gazelle linage, and your lazy, good-for-nothing brother used to be moss. For me, I think there are a few traits which stand out, leadership, status, symbolism. That's why I'm confident I came from a long line of bald eagles.
Maybe nothing happens. If that's true then you would want to catch people by surprise, so they always remember you. There are five stages of lose, drifting slowly away and having people come to accept your death before you're gone is no way to check out. You want them to be sidelined by the news. If people do not have to call out of work to grieve you have not died horrifically enough. It is completely out of your hands, but if you have to go, you want it to be such an event that whenever you come up in conversation someone feels compelled to bring up how you died.
On the other hand, perhaps those people were right and everything you've seen in the movies is accurate. But when are movies ever accurate? When have you had the right words to say to the girl at the right time? When have you rolled a car seven times and not break your sunglasses? And when has your ragtag group of friends ever beat the pretty, popular kids at anything? Never, because movies make things more glamorous. So instead of a bright light at the end of the tunnel, you're actually sitting in a smelly subway station squashed next to a guy having an animated conversation with hand gestures on his blue tooth and another guy with an actual blue tooth with the nickname Smiley, and that sound of God is really the broken, barely audible speaker of the subway operator. Did they say 6th or 66th Street... why's it so hot?
Death makes a lot of people uneasy with due cause because we are unsure what comes after it. All of these options are as viable as the next and eventually everyone will have a first hand experience with the subject, unless there's a zombie holocaust. It's a perfectly reasonable option not a lot of people give credit too. All I'm saying is most people don't come back from the dead and try and eat your brains.
Granted, it's very dramatic and a great way to end a Western, but in reality you are stuck starring directly into the sun. What is so great about riding off into the sunset anyway? Is having a sense of accomplishment followed by an overbearing desire to travel due West? Yes, I know its a metaphor for kicking the bucket but I'm the type of guy that wears sunglasses more days than most people wear pants, I don't appreciate the whole "Walk into the Light" deal; I have sensitive eyes.
Besides, walking away towards the horizon has been done to death. Every other movie has a character gently disappear in a glimmer of light never to return to the land of the living except to do arts and crafts or take a most bogus journey. Where's the creativity? Where's the original idea of what it's like after you realize that packing a parachute is best left in the hands of professionals? Not many people have near-death experiences, and to rely on such a small number of accounts is not scientifically secure in determining the accuracy of such stories. It is only right to weigh out other viable options.
Perhaps you simply snap back into life, like a long blink. Reincarnation. One of those Asian religions was big on it. Everyone has found themselves watching a Discovery Channel documentary, turned to their roommate and mumbled something about how cool it would be to be a penguin. Maybe there's even an evolution to reincarnation. First, starting off as a simple life form, such as bacteria or an amoeba, and gradually working your way up to the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads. With each successful jump you take a bit of your past with you, so the greasy kid from high school was part slug, your track star friend came from gazelle linage, and your lazy, good-for-nothing brother used to be moss. For me, I think there are a few traits which stand out, leadership, status, symbolism. That's why I'm confident I came from a long line of bald eagles.
Maybe nothing happens. If that's true then you would want to catch people by surprise, so they always remember you. There are five stages of lose, drifting slowly away and having people come to accept your death before you're gone is no way to check out. You want them to be sidelined by the news. If people do not have to call out of work to grieve you have not died horrifically enough. It is completely out of your hands, but if you have to go, you want it to be such an event that whenever you come up in conversation someone feels compelled to bring up how you died.
Friend #1: Hey, remember in college when Dave and I won that Air-Band Competition?
Friend #2: Yea, that was awesome... I can't believe he drown in a vat of marshmallow at the Hershey plant while trying to save those orphans from the fire started when the careless bus drive threw his cigarette into the bushes near the exhaust vent igniting the entire factory ablaze. Dave, being the lone man brave enough to go in after them, saved 122 lives that day. At least he died in deliciousness.
On the other hand, perhaps those people were right and everything you've seen in the movies is accurate. But when are movies ever accurate? When have you had the right words to say to the girl at the right time? When have you rolled a car seven times and not break your sunglasses? And when has your ragtag group of friends ever beat the pretty, popular kids at anything? Never, because movies make things more glamorous. So instead of a bright light at the end of the tunnel, you're actually sitting in a smelly subway station squashed next to a guy having an animated conversation with hand gestures on his blue tooth and another guy with an actual blue tooth with the nickname Smiley, and that sound of God is really the broken, barely audible speaker of the subway operator. Did they say 6th or 66th Street... why's it so hot?
Death makes a lot of people uneasy with due cause because we are unsure what comes after it. All of these options are as viable as the next and eventually everyone will have a first hand experience with the subject, unless there's a zombie holocaust. It's a perfectly reasonable option not a lot of people give credit too. All I'm saying is most people don't come back from the dead and try and eat your brains.
But it had to happen once to make people all paranoid.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sensing an Inquisition
Koalas must have very clear sinuses.
One of the people in the house is sick and everywhere I go, I smell eucalyptus. It's one of the many herbal remedies passed down from generation to generation like applying aloe to a cut or pulling out. In all the unique smells that pass through the olfactory factory. eucalyptus is one of those hated. Your sense of smell has the most influence on your memory and your ability to recall different things, and I associate that smell to being sick. For this reason, and warrants out for my arrest for two separate incidents involving the tranquilizing of a full grown kangaroo in order to ship home for use as a Valentine's Day gift or boxing buddy, is why I'm fairly certain I would not enjoy Australia.
I've always had a pretty good sense of smell. If I walked outside I could tag exactly what stench was in the air be it chocolate or a mixture of baloney and gasoline, both of which were an option on certain days during college. Sometimes these smells would bring me back to a time of family vacations up at the lake with the smell of gasoline off a boat engine equalled a good day on the water. While other times I would be reminded when I had to find a friend with a car that could keep a secret after getting a whiff of a certain perfume.
If you were told to chose which sense to go without, most people would chose either taste or smell. Touch is important for many reasons, most of which for guys revolves around any type of fondling of boobs, because we see touch more as a hindrance. If we were playing football with the guys and suddenly my tibia is sticking out, it is my wish to be able to finish the game before going for some gauze. With a sense of touch, instead of cowboying up, I'm probably only going to last another play or two.
Hearing is important, but it would be sweet if I could make it so I only hear the tone of which someone was speaking without having to listen to all those words. That way I could still react properly to whatever she was saying and I could play Mad Libs in my head while you tell me about the creepy guy you saw out in the bushes, no really, call the police, get a bat, I'm not kidding, there's a guy outside with a knife, what's that noise, oh my god I think he's found a way in, no please don't, ow I've been stabbed, screaming, why are you doing this, more screaming, help me. Sometimes I like time to get inside my own head. It's not that I don't want to listen to other people; I just like the sound of my own voice better.
Sight is tricky. On one side of the coin without it I wouldn't be able to see and a lot of the things I enjoy doing involve my ability to perceive the world around me using light refracted through my corneas and processed by the occipital lobe of my brain. But on the other hand, I could get a helper animal. Most blind people go with dogs because they're big enough to stop you from running into traffic unlike a spider monkey which would, sadly because of genetics involving hair growth, be unable to guide me by sitting on my head and grasping chunks of hair driving me like Voltron. That's why I'd want to help a helper orangutan. It would be like having a hairy butler. He would help me around the house, guild me safely across streets, and if it were a cold, dark night... and I felt a bit blue... I could cuddle with it.
Being able to sense ovulation in large zoo animals isn't very common so I won't waste time on it, but I wouldn't give it up for anything.
Taste is the most useless of all the senses. Thinking about all the new textures in the world for your tongue to experience is enough for me to elect for it to be removed. Ever wonder what sand paper would feel like on your tongue still warm from finishing off a newly stripped table? Perhaps your curious if bathing yourself like a cat is better for your skin? Or maybe you want to make out with your dog, just once, just to see what its like. All of these things, and more, are open to you without a sense of taste.
All of the senses are important, but not essential. To select one to go without for even a short period of time would change your view on life. So I pose this to you now, which would you chose?
One of the people in the house is sick and everywhere I go, I smell eucalyptus. It's one of the many herbal remedies passed down from generation to generation like applying aloe to a cut or pulling out. In all the unique smells that pass through the olfactory factory. eucalyptus is one of those hated. Your sense of smell has the most influence on your memory and your ability to recall different things, and I associate that smell to being sick. For this reason, and warrants out for my arrest for two separate incidents involving the tranquilizing of a full grown kangaroo in order to ship home for use as a Valentine's Day gift or boxing buddy, is why I'm fairly certain I would not enjoy Australia.
I've always had a pretty good sense of smell. If I walked outside I could tag exactly what stench was in the air be it chocolate or a mixture of baloney and gasoline, both of which were an option on certain days during college. Sometimes these smells would bring me back to a time of family vacations up at the lake with the smell of gasoline off a boat engine equalled a good day on the water. While other times I would be reminded when I had to find a friend with a car that could keep a secret after getting a whiff of a certain perfume.
If you were told to chose which sense to go without, most people would chose either taste or smell. Touch is important for many reasons, most of which for guys revolves around any type of fondling of boobs, because we see touch more as a hindrance. If we were playing football with the guys and suddenly my tibia is sticking out, it is my wish to be able to finish the game before going for some gauze. With a sense of touch, instead of cowboying up, I'm probably only going to last another play or two.
Hearing is important, but it would be sweet if I could make it so I only hear the tone of which someone was speaking without having to listen to all those words. That way I could still react properly to whatever she was saying and I could play Mad Libs in my head while you tell me about the creepy guy you saw out in the bushes, no really, call the police, get a bat, I'm not kidding, there's a guy outside with a knife, what's that noise, oh my god I think he's found a way in, no please don't, ow I've been stabbed, screaming, why are you doing this, more screaming, help me. Sometimes I like time to get inside my own head. It's not that I don't want to listen to other people; I just like the sound of my own voice better.
Sight is tricky. On one side of the coin without it I wouldn't be able to see and a lot of the things I enjoy doing involve my ability to perceive the world around me using light refracted through my corneas and processed by the occipital lobe of my brain. But on the other hand, I could get a helper animal. Most blind people go with dogs because they're big enough to stop you from running into traffic unlike a spider monkey which would, sadly because of genetics involving hair growth, be unable to guide me by sitting on my head and grasping chunks of hair driving me like Voltron. That's why I'd want to help a helper orangutan. It would be like having a hairy butler. He would help me around the house, guild me safely across streets, and if it were a cold, dark night... and I felt a bit blue... I could cuddle with it.
Being able to sense ovulation in large zoo animals isn't very common so I won't waste time on it, but I wouldn't give it up for anything.
Taste is the most useless of all the senses. Thinking about all the new textures in the world for your tongue to experience is enough for me to elect for it to be removed. Ever wonder what sand paper would feel like on your tongue still warm from finishing off a newly stripped table? Perhaps your curious if bathing yourself like a cat is better for your skin? Or maybe you want to make out with your dog, just once, just to see what its like. All of these things, and more, are open to you without a sense of taste.
All of the senses are important, but not essential. To select one to go without for even a short period of time would change your view on life. So I pose this to you now, which would you chose?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Unintentionally Cold
It colds outside.
Some may call this a new low. A personal website that starts out with casual conversation about the weather, nonchalantly etching its way into your personal defenses, slowly creeping through discussions of family stories, occasionally making a joke about how it too was a dork in high school that played in the marching band, and ultimately finding yourself drawn to it like a squirrel to an elaborate whistling cheese trap rigged with firecrackers that won't kill the creature just stun it enough for you to cryogenicly freeze it for research in the future after the sun expands and engulfs Mercury, raising the natural temperature of the planet so much it destroys all life except those of us who now live in underground caverns dubbed "The Catacombs." Its a simpler life, but at least it wouldn't be cold anymore.
Is it so wrong to want to get to know someone better? Yes, yes it is. Most people get tired of talking about the weather, and joking about kidnapping exotic animals and mailing them to each other as pets and eventually want to have a real conversation. My advice is to avoid this at all costs, because once someone starts to tell you information about themselves, they want you to remember it.
Look, I'm not the most popular guy, but I have a good number of friends. How do you expect me to remember menial things such as favorite colors? The way Crayola expanded in the 1980's, its hard enough for a person to decipher such things for themselves. And that's just the simple stuff! Everyone has to prove they're a unique little snowflake. Unless you have a name tag on reminding me you're an orphan, please do not get upset if I ask you how your folks are doing, I'm just trying to be nice. And if you were not driven off the road in the middle of the night by a screaming maniac in a green Volkswagen Bug back in July of '98, then I have nothing to do with your life-threatening fear of clowns and I am sorry for trying to throw you a proper birthday party.
I don't have a good memory for names, and an even worse one for faces. I know you're my uncle, but seriously, a lot of old guys come up to me on the street and I ignore them, why would that change at my grandmother's house on Thanksgiving; I am trying to enjoy my holiday. There is nothing I hate more than someone getting upset with me because I called them the wrong name. Its not like I called it out in the heat of passion. If it makes you feel better, I promise, the next time I'm giving the toast at your wedding, I'll get it right. Geez, the things people will stop returning your phone calls for these days.
I understand the need for people to feel a close connection with their friends or romantic partners and I do try, its just I'm not one of these savants when it comes to remembering things. So the next time you want to blame me for skipping my nephew's baptism to have a 'Godfather and Goldschlauger' marathon with my buddies, instead perhaps you should give me credit for getting some part of it right.
Some may call this a new low. A personal website that starts out with casual conversation about the weather, nonchalantly etching its way into your personal defenses, slowly creeping through discussions of family stories, occasionally making a joke about how it too was a dork in high school that played in the marching band, and ultimately finding yourself drawn to it like a squirrel to an elaborate whistling cheese trap rigged with firecrackers that won't kill the creature just stun it enough for you to cryogenicly freeze it for research in the future after the sun expands and engulfs Mercury, raising the natural temperature of the planet so much it destroys all life except those of us who now live in underground caverns dubbed "The Catacombs." Its a simpler life, but at least it wouldn't be cold anymore.
Is it so wrong to want to get to know someone better? Yes, yes it is. Most people get tired of talking about the weather, and joking about kidnapping exotic animals and mailing them to each other as pets and eventually want to have a real conversation. My advice is to avoid this at all costs, because once someone starts to tell you information about themselves, they want you to remember it.
Look, I'm not the most popular guy, but I have a good number of friends. How do you expect me to remember menial things such as favorite colors? The way Crayola expanded in the 1980's, its hard enough for a person to decipher such things for themselves. And that's just the simple stuff! Everyone has to prove they're a unique little snowflake. Unless you have a name tag on reminding me you're an orphan, please do not get upset if I ask you how your folks are doing, I'm just trying to be nice. And if you were not driven off the road in the middle of the night by a screaming maniac in a green Volkswagen Bug back in July of '98, then I have nothing to do with your life-threatening fear of clowns and I am sorry for trying to throw you a proper birthday party.
I don't have a good memory for names, and an even worse one for faces. I know you're my uncle, but seriously, a lot of old guys come up to me on the street and I ignore them, why would that change at my grandmother's house on Thanksgiving; I am trying to enjoy my holiday. There is nothing I hate more than someone getting upset with me because I called them the wrong name. Its not like I called it out in the heat of passion. If it makes you feel better, I promise, the next time I'm giving the toast at your wedding, I'll get it right. Geez, the things people will stop returning your phone calls for these days.
I understand the need for people to feel a close connection with their friends or romantic partners and I do try, its just I'm not one of these savants when it comes to remembering things. So the next time you want to blame me for skipping my nephew's baptism to have a 'Godfather and Goldschlauger' marathon with my buddies, instead perhaps you should give me credit for getting some part of it right.
Monday Jan 21st
I went away this weekend and did not have access to a computer I could sit in front of for an hour to write anything new. Since coming back to the fold I have been trying to update every weekday. It's a lot of material to pull out of my ass, so I'll probably never publish anything on Friday and only on Saturday or Sunday if I'm bored or sick or barricaded inside my house by a madmen bent on revenge while my only communication with the outside world is this website.
While I was away I started thinking about you lot. Most of the people that read this site, I know personally; they have my screen name, we're facebook friends, and I've even seen a few of you naked, but believe it or not there are a small number of people that have found their way here from other places be it College Humor or looking up the phrase "chemically neuter" on Google. And its these people I thought about. What do they think when they click on this site without updates for four days? They have no clue I was off gallivanting through Pennsylvania with college friends sleeping on a buddy's surprisingly comfortable couch, they may think I've been off gallivanting through the Far East on a binge of hookers and whiskey in the exotic yet dangerous world of precious metals.
Because this racked my brain for the duration of my little trip, I decided that next time I will be out of commission for a number of days I will let you all know. I'm currently using a program to hack into your computers and steal all your personal information so I may call you directly to inform you of any impending leave of absence from this site...
... hmmm, doesn't seem to be working. Oh well, I'll have to resort to Plan B which is whenever you see anything in italics (hence this being in italics), it's not an official AoR article. I'm sure you all would have figured that out for yourself but I felt you deserved an explanation, its not like ending a 6 year relationship; you cant do something like this in a few simple lines.
I'm thinking of updating the site so I can have different sections, but I'm not good with the internet, any help would be greatly appreciated. Expect a new article up tonight after I get back from the gym.
~Dave
While I was away I started thinking about you lot. Most of the people that read this site, I know personally; they have my screen name, we're facebook friends, and I've even seen a few of you naked, but believe it or not there are a small number of people that have found their way here from other places be it College Humor or looking up the phrase "chemically neuter" on Google. And its these people I thought about. What do they think when they click on this site without updates for four days? They have no clue I was off gallivanting through Pennsylvania with college friends sleeping on a buddy's surprisingly comfortable couch, they may think I've been off gallivanting through the Far East on a binge of hookers and whiskey in the exotic yet dangerous world of precious metals.
Because this racked my brain for the duration of my little trip, I decided that next time I will be out of commission for a number of days I will let you all know. I'm currently using a program to hack into your computers and steal all your personal information so I may call you directly to inform you of any impending leave of absence from this site...
... hmmm, doesn't seem to be working. Oh well, I'll have to resort to Plan B which is whenever you see anything in italics (hence this being in italics), it's not an official AoR article. I'm sure you all would have figured that out for yourself but I felt you deserved an explanation, its not like ending a 6 year relationship; you cant do something like this in a few simple lines.
I'm thinking of updating the site so I can have different sections, but I'm not good with the internet, any help would be greatly appreciated. Expect a new article up tonight after I get back from the gym.
~Dave
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Paternal Instinct
I don't like kids.
There's something about them, they're like large, smelly cats that don't land on their feet when you drop them. But even though I don't like them, I'm really good when dealing with them once the kid and I stop both crying around each other; its an odd exchange. Everyone says your thoughts on kids change when you have your own, but I'm in no rush to have any more so for now my stance on them remains the same.
Having kids is something guys don't think about as much as girls do. Guys don't sit around picking out names, because if we did every kid would be named after a video game or Samuel L. Jackson. The paternal instinct is a bit tweaked, instead of being programmed to nurture we're programmed to force our kids to do everything we know that will help them in the long run. Football to be tough, piano to impress girls, boy scouts for that ounce of molestation needed because not everyone has a creepy relative they can rely on to cover that base, and auto mechanics.
Its pretty obvious that guys only want to have boys. Its that Spartan attitude we have shoved behind 20 some years of having our mom take care of us when we're sick. To guys, having a little girl is only useful for one thing; getting the chance to beat up teenagers when she starts dating. I'm a fairly attractive guy, so the possibility of my spawn also being attractive is pretty good. Having a son dating the Homecoming Queen is a badge of honor a father can wear on his chest, having a daughter elected Prom Queen is an attempted homicide charge waiting to happen.
When it comes to numbers, guys typically want more than one. Some say its so we get a second chance after we screw up the first one but I think its so you always have someone to pawn the other off on if you're doing something. If I'm trying to fix the dishwasher, watch the game, or slyly burying the dog and then driving to the pound to find one that looks just like it, I don't need the kids buzzing around me. Also, having only one child means all your hopes and dreams are dependant on your one precious spawn, and if they screw up you can't disown them and try again like you could with a littler of kids.
Guys generally don't think about having kids unless something breaks in their life plan to force this into their mind. Most of us would rather pull out of those situations, but sometimes we're too caught up in the moment and then its forced upon us. It's not like there's some magic pill that makes this all go away. In fact, most guys would describe thinking about having a kid as "the longest few weeks of my life" and the only solution is when she tells us we're in the clear. Period.
There's something about them, they're like large, smelly cats that don't land on their feet when you drop them. But even though I don't like them, I'm really good when dealing with them once the kid and I stop both crying around each other; its an odd exchange. Everyone says your thoughts on kids change when you have your own, but I'm in no rush to have any more so for now my stance on them remains the same.
Having kids is something guys don't think about as much as girls do. Guys don't sit around picking out names, because if we did every kid would be named after a video game or Samuel L. Jackson. The paternal instinct is a bit tweaked, instead of being programmed to nurture we're programmed to force our kids to do everything we know that will help them in the long run. Football to be tough, piano to impress girls, boy scouts for that ounce of molestation needed because not everyone has a creepy relative they can rely on to cover that base, and auto mechanics.
Its pretty obvious that guys only want to have boys. Its that Spartan attitude we have shoved behind 20 some years of having our mom take care of us when we're sick. To guys, having a little girl is only useful for one thing; getting the chance to beat up teenagers when she starts dating. I'm a fairly attractive guy, so the possibility of my spawn also being attractive is pretty good. Having a son dating the Homecoming Queen is a badge of honor a father can wear on his chest, having a daughter elected Prom Queen is an attempted homicide charge waiting to happen.
When it comes to numbers, guys typically want more than one. Some say its so we get a second chance after we screw up the first one but I think its so you always have someone to pawn the other off on if you're doing something. If I'm trying to fix the dishwasher, watch the game, or slyly burying the dog and then driving to the pound to find one that looks just like it, I don't need the kids buzzing around me. Also, having only one child means all your hopes and dreams are dependant on your one precious spawn, and if they screw up you can't disown them and try again like you could with a littler of kids.
Guys generally don't think about having kids unless something breaks in their life plan to force this into their mind. Most of us would rather pull out of those situations, but sometimes we're too caught up in the moment and then its forced upon us. It's not like there's some magic pill that makes this all go away. In fact, most guys would describe thinking about having a kid as "the longest few weeks of my life" and the only solution is when she tells us we're in the clear. Period.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Acts of Randomness: Old School
A little history for all of you.
Back when I first started posting things on the internet, I didn't have a name for my site. It was just "Dave's Journal," and at the end of the articles I would put all the random thoughts that came to me that I didn't feel like developing. Either I was too lazy to put the effort into drawing out the joke for three paragraphs or the idea was simply better as a one-liner. These thoughts came to be called "Acts of Randomness," so now I'm going to bring it back to get rid of some of the ideas that have been populating my head lately.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- Is there anyone else out there that can't spell encyclopedia without singing the damn song?
Back when I first started posting things on the internet, I didn't have a name for my site. It was just "Dave's Journal," and at the end of the articles I would put all the random thoughts that came to me that I didn't feel like developing. Either I was too lazy to put the effort into drawing out the joke for three paragraphs or the idea was simply better as a one-liner. These thoughts came to be called "Acts of Randomness," so now I'm going to bring it back to get rid of some of the ideas that have been populating my head lately.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- It must have been really hard to drunk dial someone back in Colonial Times. Its hard enough trying to find the person's name in your contact list when you've had eight Jagerbombs too many and everything reads like Swahili, imagine trying to catch the pigeon AND tie that tiny note to its foot!
- On the show Man vs Wild, the host, Bear Grylls, eats anything he encounters in the name of survival be it plant, animal, or mineral. If Bear came across a bunch of bananas in the rain forest, he'd eat the monkey.
- Why does my spell check insist that I capitalize the word "internet?" I know what you're all thinking. Yes, I do use spell check.
- Every battery in my room decided to die on me today. I was sitting at my computer with my mouse not reacting, unable to turn on my television, and my mp3 player slowly sucking the life out of itself. It is a sad day for lithium... which is ironic.
- I'd be a good phone sex operator, but only between 8:00 and 8:15am because of all that overnight phlegm that makes me sound way sexier than I sound any other time during the day. Also with my morning daze, I may not be as socially crippling as normal while talking to women over the phone.
- I've never had I Can't Believe Its Not Butter, but I have an open mind about things so I'm fairly certain I would give it the benefit of the doubt.
- I want to buy a racehorse just for the chance to name something. Sure, I could wait until I have kids but people look at you funny when you have a son called "Baby's Been Bad" or "Jumping Jungle Fever." Although, I'm pretty sure my child's name will have some alliteration in it.
- Gmail has a feature where you can see who else is online checking their email at that time, and whenever I see someone else online I feel compelled to send them a message. The same thing is true when I'm in a bank and I see them putting a large sum of money in the safe. I feel compelled to slip the teller a message saying "Fill the bag and nobody gets hurt."- Is there anyone else out there that can't spell encyclopedia without singing the damn song?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Tests of Chivalry
For me, being chivalrous, stops at things I like to do.
I still believe in holding doors, paying for dinner, and thinking of baseball, but eventually everything a guy does for a girl on a date is a test. Like Pavlov and his dogs, we are holding scientific experiments to see exactly what happens when we do A. Does she B start to drool, C cry uncontrollably, or D some kind of sexy combination of both? The following are a selection of those tests that I personally apply in dating situations.
Opening Her Car Door: This may be a lost art kept going by those of us who drive the same shit car we had in high school, as this test does not work if you unlock the doors electronically from across the parking lot. Unlocking and opening the car door for your ladyfriend is a simple gesture she will greatly appreciate. The test comes in when she is securely in your vehicle and you are maneuvering to the driver's side - does she unlock your door? If the answer is yes, marry her. Sadly, no girls will think of unlocking your door. Even if you have electronic locks and all she has to do push the GOD DAMN BUTTON BY YOUR RIGHT HAND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, ITS FRIGGIN RAINING; she will not. If brought to her attention most will claim she couldn't figure out how to unlock the doors. If that were true, you're getting lucky that night, because she's dumb as a brick.
Picking a Movie: This test is very simple in its delivery. Don't care. At least, act like you don't care. Sure, the unrated edition of Saw IV just came out on DVD, and you've been dying to see what kind of 'disemboweling a bear with a pair of nail clippers looking for the digital camera hidden inside with the picture of the combination to the lock on the safe filled with eyeballs stuck in jello where the antidote is kept' scene they could add to that movie to make it more gory, but give her a chance to pick. If she picks out a movie you have even the remote possibility of liking, you marry her! But she won't. She will ultimately pick some Keira Knightely movie set in the 18th Century where she doesn't have the common decency to get naked. For having to sit through the two-hour bore-fest, someone best be getting naked, that's for sure.
Telling Her of a Loved One's Passing: This works great if you tell her its your Great Aunt from upstate NY whose funeral is set for next Friday and all hopes are she kicks the bucket by then because it's hard to get your deposit back from the funeral home. But it works even better if you tell her its her Great Aunt that has died. She will feel an instant connection because one of her first thoughts will be how you knew before she did. Be there for her. Losing a relative can be a tough time for anyone, even if its not true, but especially tough if you had anything to do with it for purposes of this test. Trying to decide whether to spend months getting to know a girl is a big commitment and if you're not willing to set a neighborhood of houses on fire because you're not quite sure if Aunt Mildred lived at 143 Ostroski Rd or 193, then you don't belong in the dating pool in the first place.
These tests will not 100% determine if she's The One, but you'll be better off with the knowledge you gain from their use.
I still believe in holding doors, paying for dinner, and thinking of baseball, but eventually everything a guy does for a girl on a date is a test. Like Pavlov and his dogs, we are holding scientific experiments to see exactly what happens when we do A. Does she B start to drool, C cry uncontrollably, or D some kind of sexy combination of both? The following are a selection of those tests that I personally apply in dating situations.
Opening Her Car Door: This may be a lost art kept going by those of us who drive the same shit car we had in high school, as this test does not work if you unlock the doors electronically from across the parking lot. Unlocking and opening the car door for your ladyfriend is a simple gesture she will greatly appreciate. The test comes in when she is securely in your vehicle and you are maneuvering to the driver's side - does she unlock your door? If the answer is yes, marry her. Sadly, no girls will think of unlocking your door. Even if you have electronic locks and all she has to do push the GOD DAMN BUTTON BY YOUR RIGHT HAND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, ITS FRIGGIN RAINING; she will not. If brought to her attention most will claim she couldn't figure out how to unlock the doors. If that were true, you're getting lucky that night, because she's dumb as a brick.
Picking a Movie: This test is very simple in its delivery. Don't care. At least, act like you don't care. Sure, the unrated edition of Saw IV just came out on DVD, and you've been dying to see what kind of 'disemboweling a bear with a pair of nail clippers looking for the digital camera hidden inside with the picture of the combination to the lock on the safe filled with eyeballs stuck in jello where the antidote is kept' scene they could add to that movie to make it more gory, but give her a chance to pick. If she picks out a movie you have even the remote possibility of liking, you marry her! But she won't. She will ultimately pick some Keira Knightely movie set in the 18th Century where she doesn't have the common decency to get naked. For having to sit through the two-hour bore-fest, someone best be getting naked, that's for sure.
Telling Her of a Loved One's Passing: This works great if you tell her its your Great Aunt from upstate NY whose funeral is set for next Friday and all hopes are she kicks the bucket by then because it's hard to get your deposit back from the funeral home. But it works even better if you tell her its her Great Aunt that has died. She will feel an instant connection because one of her first thoughts will be how you knew before she did. Be there for her. Losing a relative can be a tough time for anyone, even if its not true, but especially tough if you had anything to do with it for purposes of this test. Trying to decide whether to spend months getting to know a girl is a big commitment and if you're not willing to set a neighborhood of houses on fire because you're not quite sure if Aunt Mildred lived at 143 Ostroski Rd or 193, then you don't belong in the dating pool in the first place.
These tests will not 100% determine if she's The One, but you'll be better off with the knowledge you gain from their use.
Friday, January 11, 2008
An Important Phone Call
How important does a phone call have to be for you to make it between walking out of the shower and putting on some shorts in a public locker room?
I find it hard to believe that this man chose to make a casual phone call in that particular situation. Let me be clear, he did not RECEIVE a phone call, he DIALED out in order to communicate a thought, feeling, or idea to another by means of vocal annunciation. Now, I fully understand the general uses of a locker room may include nudity but not everyone is striking enough to move someone to capture their likeness as a sculpture and should keep that time frame down to a minimum. This man's absolute disregard for locker room decency etiquette makes me believe there was something afoot, and that phone call could not wait another moment. Here are a few ideas of what may have lead to that phone call:
Scenario #1:
I find it hard to believe that this man chose to make a casual phone call in that particular situation. Let me be clear, he did not RECEIVE a phone call, he DIALED out in order to communicate a thought, feeling, or idea to another by means of vocal annunciation. Now, I fully understand the general uses of a locker room may include nudity but not everyone is striking enough to move someone to capture their likeness as a sculpture and should keep that time frame down to a minimum. This man's absolute disregard for locker room decency etiquette makes me believe there was something afoot, and that phone call could not wait another moment. Here are a few ideas of what may have lead to that phone call:
Scenario #1:
Our aforementioned naked man is actually an aging superhero checking in with city hall. After so many years of crime fighting, our hero takes it easy when he can so if he doesn't have to pull on his tights on everyday, life is simpler. Perhaps that uniform just doesn't fit like it used to and slipping it on under his normal clothes is a hassle he doesn't want to deal with if he doesn't have to. So instead, he calls the mayor, naked, to see if everything is under control. Should we fault a man whose done so much good for the city?
Scenario #2:
Perhaps our friend is hiding a secret from a loved one. Maybe when he goes to the gym and enters that locker room he can finally share that secret with the world and takes hold of the opportunity presented before him. In a relationship, a man has to give up a lot of things he loves and this man loves to be naked. He's a nudist, but he can't practice this at home, so the one joy he has left in his life is calling home, naked, and having a conversation with whoever picks up. I may not agree with it, but who am I to take that joy away from another man?
Scenario #3:
This man is a time traveler from a distant future where greeting someone while clothed is a greater disrespect than not curbing your giant iguana when all the dogs become extinct. In the future, global warming will have made the Earth a vast desert and the atmospheric bubble communities mankind are forced to live in will be astronomically warmer than the current temperatures we live at today. Common decency will evolve with society and eventually covering oneself up in public will be considered taboo. He is attempting to blend into a world he doesn't fully understand, but he's doing his best. If I were in his shoes, would I fare any better?
I may have jumped to my conclusion too fast. There is a reason why this man decided to pick up his phone and dial at that particular moment, I was just too careless to figure out why. The next time a naked man is doing something I'm not going to ask him to put on some shorts, instead, I will ask him to enlighten me.
... but, ya know, if you want to put some shorts on first. That's okay, too.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Signing Your Love Away
My signature is pretty awesome.
The two D's in my first name compliment each other well and give a definite beginning and ending to its structure. And my last name is a masterpiece. Not many people have two capitol letters to play with. I get to hit you with the big M and then the calm comes over the crowd until the P comes up out of nowhere and smacks your baby sister across the face! My name is so much fun to sign that when meeting new women at bars I point out the joy they would have signing things when we get married. Hell, I wasn't popular in high school but girls still used to write Mrs. David MacPherson on their notebooks because of how fun it was.
I don't know sign language, but I'm going to take a guess my name is twice as fun then.
I'm not saying I would have to convince a girl to marry me, but having something to bring to the table besides "whole and unconditional love" is a strong move. The world's getting over-populated, so its only a matter of time until they put spawning regulations in place and if you want to be sure to get in on that before being chemically neutered by the government you best start thinking of things that makes your special love a little more special.
For me, my last name brings along with it a long history of Scottish lore, a color scheme for any occasion, and a castle I will reclaim in the name of my ancestors though legal or pillaging channels. Your last name probably isn't anything unique, so you are going to have to fall back on something else. Maybe your family owns livestock you can give to your girlfriend's family in exchange for her hand in marriage. It may seemed old fashion but unlike many other transactions, inflation has not adversely effected exchange rates. The typical marriage aged female is equal to 10 chickens, 3 1/2 sheep, or one cow, since both are used for milking and breeding purposes.
Looking deep into yourself is the only way to grasp a hold onto that magnificent item to separate you from the pack. Whether it be promises of a better life, a pack of elfin slaves, or ingesting unsafe levels of hallucinogens to explore the ever-expanding world of pure imagination, hopefully you'll be able to find your own golden ticket and she'll let you in the backdoor to explore the chocolate factory.
The two D's in my first name compliment each other well and give a definite beginning and ending to its structure. And my last name is a masterpiece. Not many people have two capitol letters to play with. I get to hit you with the big M and then the calm comes over the crowd until the P comes up out of nowhere and smacks your baby sister across the face! My name is so much fun to sign that when meeting new women at bars I point out the joy they would have signing things when we get married. Hell, I wasn't popular in high school but girls still used to write Mrs. David MacPherson on their notebooks because of how fun it was.
I don't know sign language, but I'm going to take a guess my name is twice as fun then.
I'm not saying I would have to convince a girl to marry me, but having something to bring to the table besides "whole and unconditional love" is a strong move. The world's getting over-populated, so its only a matter of time until they put spawning regulations in place and if you want to be sure to get in on that before being chemically neutered by the government you best start thinking of things that makes your special love a little more special.
For me, my last name brings along with it a long history of Scottish lore, a color scheme for any occasion, and a castle I will reclaim in the name of my ancestors though legal or pillaging channels. Your last name probably isn't anything unique, so you are going to have to fall back on something else. Maybe your family owns livestock you can give to your girlfriend's family in exchange for her hand in marriage. It may seemed old fashion but unlike many other transactions, inflation has not adversely effected exchange rates. The typical marriage aged female is equal to 10 chickens, 3 1/2 sheep, or one cow, since both are used for milking and breeding purposes.
Looking deep into yourself is the only way to grasp a hold onto that magnificent item to separate you from the pack. Whether it be promises of a better life, a pack of elfin slaves, or ingesting unsafe levels of hallucinogens to explore the ever-expanding world of pure imagination, hopefully you'll be able to find your own golden ticket and she'll let you in the backdoor to explore the chocolate factory.
Labels:
chemically neuter,
hallucinogens,
marriage,
Scottish lore
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Taking a Personal Holiday
Its Elvis's birthday!
This begs the question; how famous do you have to be for people to celebrate your birthday after you die? And not out of guilt because you were pushing the hot dog cart at Six Flags that you lost control of and sent careening down the hill towards the guys in the Bugs Bunny suit, which happened to be your friend Paul. But to have such a following that people consider your birthday a personal holiday. Having that kind of power post-humorously, I could not even begin to drool over what I could wield while alive or I may drown and it'd be all for naught.
I would make a great famous person. Sure, I don't exactly like meeting new people and having to be nice to others is something I have religious beliefs against, but I am not opposed to the public loving me. In fact, I am even okay with a few people not loving me, because love is not a strong enough word to describe what they would feel towards me; so we'll put them in the 'worship as their one true god' category. Eventually, these odd collection of folk will be the main source of Me news. They will be blogging about my day to day activities not excluding; lunch time deli decisions, trips to the zoo, latest purchases at Target, my ongoing feud with actor Elijah Wood, teasing the monkeys with false promises of freedom, blogging about my blogging about my hatred for the word blog, and being a semi-professional Scrabbler.
But no matter how famous I get, this will always be the OFFICIAL source of Me News. You cannot trust what you may hear, no matter how credible it may seem. These rumors can be make it very hard to determine truth from fiction so I would like to dispel some rumors now so they do not interfere with my fame.
1) The alleged affair between myself and Jeanette Miller (former girlfriend of Simon Seville) did not have anything to do with the demise of the band.
2) I was not the individual who started the disturbance in the Las Vegas strip club "Zee Zee's," Elijah Wood threw the first punch.
3)I have successfully completed my court-ordered stint at rehab and have not fallen back into any bad gambling habits, you can put money on that.
4) Any photos leaked from my cell phone would only have included many photos of my cat in various stages of sleep and close friends complaining they did not want their picture take at that time even though they're dressed to go out, I mean come on, you look fine, now smile!
I think I am well prepared for my awesomeness to come to fruition.
This begs the question; how famous do you have to be for people to celebrate your birthday after you die? And not out of guilt because you were pushing the hot dog cart at Six Flags that you lost control of and sent careening down the hill towards the guys in the Bugs Bunny suit, which happened to be your friend Paul. But to have such a following that people consider your birthday a personal holiday. Having that kind of power post-humorously, I could not even begin to drool over what I could wield while alive or I may drown and it'd be all for naught.
I would make a great famous person. Sure, I don't exactly like meeting new people and having to be nice to others is something I have religious beliefs against, but I am not opposed to the public loving me. In fact, I am even okay with a few people not loving me, because love is not a strong enough word to describe what they would feel towards me; so we'll put them in the 'worship as their one true god' category. Eventually, these odd collection of folk will be the main source of Me news. They will be blogging about my day to day activities not excluding; lunch time deli decisions, trips to the zoo, latest purchases at Target, my ongoing feud with actor Elijah Wood, teasing the monkeys with false promises of freedom, blogging about my blogging about my hatred for the word blog, and being a semi-professional Scrabbler.
But no matter how famous I get, this will always be the OFFICIAL source of Me News. You cannot trust what you may hear, no matter how credible it may seem. These rumors can be make it very hard to determine truth from fiction so I would like to dispel some rumors now so they do not interfere with my fame.
1) The alleged affair between myself and Jeanette Miller (former girlfriend of Simon Seville) did not have anything to do with the demise of the band.
2) I was not the individual who started the disturbance in the Las Vegas strip club "Zee Zee's," Elijah Wood threw the first punch.
3)I have successfully completed my court-ordered stint at rehab and have not fallen back into any bad gambling habits, you can put money on that.
4) Any photos leaked from my cell phone would only have included many photos of my cat in various stages of sleep and close friends complaining they did not want their picture take at that time even though they're dressed to go out, I mean come on, you look fine, now smile!
I think I am well prepared for my awesomeness to come to fruition.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Making Cents, And Other Craptacular Puns
The other day I looked in my wallet and I had $27 dollars.
It was not as easy as simply having a $20 dollar bill, a $5, and two $1's. I had another mixture of bills which eventually lead me to $27. Now this normally would not be anything but an afterthought. I was not planning on spending $27 on any particular item. There was not a prized $27 possession I have recently pawned in order to keep any "slightly expensive to a middle schooler" habit I have acquired over the last few months. And I was not $27 dollars short on the ransom sent to me so I would stop getting fingers of a loved one in the mail. This $27 was special because I thought I only had $8.
There's a large difference between 8 and 27. Having more is always thought to be better. For instance, if I have 8 friends we could play 4-on-4 football with an automatic quarterback, but with 27 friends I could have a full game and exclude people! Or when getting in a scuffle at the Elementary School wouldn't you rather have a posse of 27 instead of 8. I mean, if an internet test says I could take out twenty-four fifth graders before being overrun, imagine the mountains of unconscious 10-year-olds we would leave in our wake! They'd have to ship in 5th graders from other districts to quench our blood lust!
What about the other side of the coin? Having $8 in your pocket and getting stabbed over it while coming out of a shady liqueur store late at night is a much better news story than a guy holding $27. That kind of money can buy Monster Ballads I & II on iTunes, and if I'm stabbing someone outside of a liqueur store late at night, its to purchase MP3s legally through an internet music site.
Some questions are still up for debate. The choice between 8 and 27 cannot be distinguished by a clear consensus and has left a rift in this once peaceful community. Both sides have fair arguments so I leave it to the PBS standard and let "Viewers Like You" debate it out.
Your Question: Which is a more preferable amount of toes to have?
It was not as easy as simply having a $20 dollar bill, a $5, and two $1's. I had another mixture of bills which eventually lead me to $27. Now this normally would not be anything but an afterthought. I was not planning on spending $27 on any particular item. There was not a prized $27 possession I have recently pawned in order to keep any "slightly expensive to a middle schooler" habit I have acquired over the last few months. And I was not $27 dollars short on the ransom sent to me so I would stop getting fingers of a loved one in the mail. This $27 was special because I thought I only had $8.
There's a large difference between 8 and 27. Having more is always thought to be better. For instance, if I have 8 friends we could play 4-on-4 football with an automatic quarterback, but with 27 friends I could have a full game and exclude people! Or when getting in a scuffle at the Elementary School wouldn't you rather have a posse of 27 instead of 8. I mean, if an internet test says I could take out twenty-four fifth graders before being overrun, imagine the mountains of unconscious 10-year-olds we would leave in our wake! They'd have to ship in 5th graders from other districts to quench our blood lust!
What about the other side of the coin? Having $8 in your pocket and getting stabbed over it while coming out of a shady liqueur store late at night is a much better news story than a guy holding $27. That kind of money can buy Monster Ballads I & II on iTunes, and if I'm stabbing someone outside of a liqueur store late at night, its to purchase MP3s legally through an internet music site.
Some questions are still up for debate. The choice between 8 and 27 cannot be distinguished by a clear consensus and has left a rift in this once peaceful community. Both sides have fair arguments so I leave it to the PBS standard and let "Viewers Like You" debate it out.
Your Question: Which is a more preferable amount of toes to have?
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