Acts of Randomness

Credit Card Rewards

2011-09-26T21:32:00.004-04:00

Credit Card Reward Gifts are a grown-up's version of the shitty prizes you can win after getting 20,000 tickets at an arcade at the boardwalk. It is the same basic premise as when you were a kid. You can't believe they have an entire eatery set for 8,000 tickets until you get it home and realize KitchenAid isn't spelled with two N's, half the plates are cracked in no less than three pieces, and the odd smell which seems to have perfumed your entire room is emanating from the smokey gloss which coats everything you are suppose to eat off. The difference is instead of spending $100 on skeeball, to get enough tickets, to buy a spider ring; you're spending $5,000 on a ring, to get a gift card, to play skeeball.

The worst part is 98% of the crap they have on Credit Card Reward Websites are rated 3 Stars or below on Amazon! I know I speak for most people when I say that most of my views on life, personal and political alike, come from the comments section on the world's prime online shopping site. And it's a flawed logic! When comparing two products, if one has a 5 rating with three reviews and the other has a 4.3 with two hundred and seventeen lots of people would go with the 4.3 rated product; but my brain doesn't work like that.

I start to think about the 1/8 of the people that did not have a good experience with the product. What's wrong with it? Does it not warm-up quick enough? Is it lacking in the horsepower department? Can it keep vegetables crisp? There is something inherently wrong with this product which is making these people not 100% satisfied with their purchase; and that bugs me.

The other product, however, is infallible in the eyes of the Amazon Gods. It has a rating of 5. In the eyes of the consumer this is quintessentially perfect. The people that bought this product found themselves in cloud of elation which preoccupied their lives and made them unable to even write an additional positive review. Perhaps they felt it would be a sign of disrespect to the producers of this miraculous product to rate it merely a 5! If only Amazon had a reclassification option which allowed the products deemed worthy to be likened to the Greek Gods of their ability. Sadly, that wouldn't work. You can't change history; you can't rename Gods.

So now I'm stuck choosing between a four-cup rice cooker or a heavy-duty bench grinder. I don't need either, but it beats a lousy Chinese finger trap.

O Canada, O Baby!

2010-02-13T00:21:00.004-05:00

The 2010 Winter Olympic Games are upon us! Dating back to a time when no one cared about other countries because it took 4 weeks to cross the Atlantic by ship, the Winter Olympic Games started because skiers wanted to feel important in the world of sports and pervy guys needed underage girls to oogle while gymnastics was on a 4 year hiatus between Summer Games. This year games are in Vancouver, Canada; famous for movies without big enough budgets to film in real cities like Chicago or New York City.

As always, the games start with the Opening Ceremonies. I watched the entire 4 hour broadcast diligently so you could spare yourself from the globalizing peace & unity the games represent and continue to watch re-runs of Two and a Half Men on TBS, because as Americans, we love Charlie Sheen and the guy that played Ducky. Below I have the SparksNotes version of the Opening Ceremony so you can talk about it with your friends and not feel like an idiot because you chose to watch a game show hosted by Howie Mandel instead of a major world sporting event held once every 4 years.

- Costing between $60 and $70 million dollars Canadian, the opening ceremonies displayed beautiful representations of the Canadian country side on elevated screens and a giant LCD pad laying on the floor of the arena. Feeling the overall sense of goodwill the games produce, the American team rummaged through their pockets and were able to scrounge up $14.17 which, when translated, covered roughly half the production costs.

- The introductions of the nations start with Greece, where the first Olympic games were held in the day when wrestling another man naked was sport, and taking him behind the bushes for a time of "contemplative quiet study" was common practice of the guys we base most of our ethical beliefs on.

- The Pakistani team is introduced and, sadly, it is announced the biathlon team was disqualified from competition after using RPGs instead of rifles during practice earlier in the day.

- After all the Olympians reach their seats, the show begins with a metaphoric retelling of the history of Canada complete with Inuits, stunning light production, and the Canadian Robosaurus popping out of the ground to showcase Canada's love for monster trucks shaped like bears that breathe fire and devour cars.

- NBC is going to take this inopportune time in the broadcast to cut to commercial. The first of many times they will do this. Hey, is that Michael Phelps? Well, he's vaguely relevant again, let's milk this for all its worth. U-S-A! U-S-A!

- And we're back! The stage is now set for a weird dance-off between rival tattooed vampire clans. I got distracted during the 5 minute tap solo by a peculiarly dressed mohawked man and wondered, "Where the hell is Nickelback? Aren't they Canadian?"

- The next section stars a recent Canadian clown school graduate. Majored in juggling with a minor in oversized hats, this young man was a stand out among his class of 200 students; all of which are in attendance tonight; not-surprisingly, all riding in the same car.

- Boo YA! And now some SLAM POETRY for yo' ass... by a fat, white guy... Def Comedy Jam was unreachable for comment at the time of this publication.

- Please rise for the Olympic Hymn! Bust out the timpanis and warm up the horn section, this place is about to get nutty... What the? I've never heard this song before. And there are words to this supposedly famous Olympic Hymn as well. At least I don't feel bad because everyone else looks as lost as I am.

- The end of the ceremony arrives and who other than hockey legend Wayne Gretzky to light the Olympic Torch...

- Still waiting patiently. Waiting for The Great One, Wayne Gretzky, who will light the Olympic Torch in mere moments...

- Awkwardly stirring, three time Olympic hockey veteran Wayne Gretzky is awaiting his chance to become immortalized in Olympic history as he lights the ceremonial torch...

- Due to technical difficulties, it is sad to report, Canada has proven once again, to only qualify in the world's eye as 3/4 of a nation.

I Still Feel Like a Kid

2010-02-10T22:19:00.005-05:00

Sometimes staring at a blank page is the best inspiration for getting things done. Sometimes all it takes is the open road to make you want to drive. Sometimes you grab the full gravy boat at Thanksgiving dinner and down the entire thing in one chug because Grandma bet you it couldn't be done. Well, pay up, Grandma! And I'm sorry for the throwing up on the stuffing.

Inspiration is a funny thing. Most people need to be inspired to do something. I'm the complete opposite. I need to be bored. If I'm inspired to run a 5k in two weeks I hope to have a clear schedule because otherwise I'm going to be running like I need a lung transplant. I've never been a planner, and I'm probably not going to add that to my list of words that describe me, including but not exclusive too: smart, charming, funny, socially crippling, gun repair, and devilishly handsome, anytime soon. I shoot from the hip; making what some may call rash decisions. But sadly, science has yet to develop an ointment to magically give my id a 10 year plan.

I don't have a lot of hobbies. All the good stamps have been collected, I don't know enough about cars to put a hot rod together, and my lion tamer class expected me to provide my own lion and chair. I had the idea to buy a motorcycle late one Saturday last spring and by Thursday I bought my bike, found a gang, and got my tats, but I can only roll out with Bubba and the Gang between April and October. Then I enrolled in Grad School and instantly remember how much acadamia makes us all mindless zombies unable to have original thought. Though helpful with advancing my professional life, by all accounts and purposes, not a good hobby. I thought I was dead in the water. I mean, what is a man to do? Find the woman of his dreams, marry her, buy a house, have children and live happily ever after?

Pffff. Lame.

I can't string three sentences together in normal conversation because my mind has always worked too fast for itself. If I could get a court stenographer to follow me around and write down all the conversations I have with myself in the car before I get somewhere I wouldn't have to talk, I could just get her to read back the official record and I'd be the most romantic man on the face of the earth. Of course, I'd probably also have to hire an editor as well to string the best bits and pieces together. And a spell checker, because I'm still pretty god awful at that. But I've always been able to write.

Life is easier when you write all the dialogue. I think I found my hobby.

Boards

2008-04-23T17:21:00.002-04:00

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.

Big Change

2008-04-12T20:44:00.002-04:00

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.

Cleanliness is Godliness and God is Billy Corgan.

2008-04-01T22:47:00.003-04:00

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.

MuxTapes!

2008-03-25T23:09:00.002-04:00

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.

Being Employed

2008-03-13T22:40:00.003-04:00

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.

Ahoy-hoy

2008-03-03T23:39:00.004-05:00

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.

To Be Deleted

2008-02-28T00:44:00.003-05:00

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

The Rumor Mill

2008-02-18T23:42:00.003-05:00

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.

The Mangina Monologues

2008-02-13T20:46:00.001-05:00

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.

P's & K's

2008-02-11T23:39:00.000-05:00

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?

Acts of Randomness: Old School II

2008-02-07T23:16:00.000-05:00

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.

Driver's Ed

2008-02-04T23:19:00.000-05:00

"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.

Brush like a Dentist, Wipe like a Proctologist

2008-01-31T00:07:00.000-05:00

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!

Staring at the Sun

2008-01-27T22:53:00.000-05:00

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.

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.

Sensing an Inquisition

2008-01-23T23:16:00.000-05:00

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?

Unintentionally Cold

2008-01-21T22:52:00.000-05:00

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.

Monday Jan 21st

2008-01-21T16:05:00.000-05:00

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

Paternal Instinct

2008-01-17T15:19:00.000-05:00

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.

Acts of Randomness: Old School

2008-01-16T00:57:00.000-05:00

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

- 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?

Tests of Chivalry

2008-01-15T00:19:00.000-05:00

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.

An Important Phone Call

2008-01-11T00:33:00.000-05:00

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:

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.

Signing Your Love Away

2008-01-09T23:59:00.000-05:00

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.

Taking a Personal Holiday

2008-01-08T23:49:00.000-05:00

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.

Making Cents, And Other Craptacular Puns

2008-01-07T23:54:00.000-05:00

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?

Road Trippin' Tips

2007-07-17T13:59:00.000-04:00

It is the height of the summer tour season for bands across the country. Everyone from Korn to Kayne are hitting up the major venues and performing in front of millions of people only to pack it all up and do it again in another city. But what about those other bands that have not quite made it yet. Those still seeking advice with how to survive being on the road need to look no further than here as I present to you How to Survive on the Road.

Rock Star Tip #1: Touring will bring your band closer together; as long as you don’t have to talk to one another.

You have been with the same people for the last fourteen days and have taken five showers collectively; there is nothing to talk about except your ride. Where are we now? How long until we get there? Did the ball fall off our hitch and go through the windshield of that SUV? Most of America’s highways look the same. Grass, grass, road kill, exit sign, toll booth, bus full of old people, grass; and for some reason license plate games and show tunes do not go over as well as they did on the fourth grade field trip to the zoo. Besides, you do not have a license plate.

Rock Star Tip #2: Truckers are King of the Road, and sometimes Queen, too.

You only need to push your broken down ride into a truck stop once to see a guy wearing nothing but a zebra stripped thong and a smile to understand that truckers work long hours on the road and if your band doesn’t make it, truck driving school is not an option.

Rock Star Tip #3: Sleep is for the Weak

Sleep in shifts. Most likely the places police allow people to sleep will not be in the best neighborhoods. The only thing worse than waking up in a van smelling like sweat and White Castle, is waking up in a van smelling like sweat and White Castle without your equipment. Occasionally you may wake up without underwear on, but that’s the reason you joined a band in the first place; embrace it.

Rock Star Tip #4: The Red Wings are No Longer My Favorite Hockey Team

During a conversation with a kindly fellow named JP Long in Texas after our ride broke down for the third time that trip, I learned, in full one-toothed detail exactly how to earn your ‘red wings.’ When he first said it, I really hoped he was a Communist Fighter Pilot…

Rock Star Tip #5: Ten Things to Always Keep In Your Van

1) Secret Gas Money Hidden from the Drummer.
2) Extra Empty Bottles Because “I just stopped 10 minutes ago!”
3) Video Camera to Film Sexual Exploits like our Hero, Scott Strapp
4) Assorted Pornography (combined with #5)
5) Sandwich Bags and Vaseline (most clubs have a microwave somewhere)
6) A handle of Seagrams 7
7) Phil Collins – No Jacket Required Cassette Tape
8) Another handle of Seagrams 7
9) Box Full of Puppies in case the Ladies Do Not Dig that I Play Guitar
10) A Cooler Full of Hopes and Dreams, Natty Light and Newports

Rock Star Tip #6: LA was not built for Mid Sized-School Buses

LA has the craziest traffic in the US. With the amount of Ferraris and Bentleys people drive to pick up milk in that city, it makes for a rather expensive obstacle course. In order to drive safely in LA one would have to possess no remorse for the human life, but since this is Los Angeles we are speaking of, that is not hard to come by.

Rock Star Tip #7: You Will Never Breakdown Near Anything

If you just passed a truck stop or civilization of any kind; worry not. Your ride will not breakdown on you. Nor will it breakdown during the normal daylight business hours of any local mechanic. Remember, your automobile is vengeful and growing ever-smarter by the day. It becomes self-aware at 2:14am.

Rock Star Tip #8: Accidents Will Happen

Statistics show that driving is the most hazardous mode of transportation, so it is likely you and your band mates will be involved in something. Though when you come home and your girlfriend tearfully admits to ‘accidently’ have slept with your best friend, you are on your own.

Rock Star Tip #9: Do Not Let Others Disrespect Your Ride

The only thing keeping you from walking the rest of the way to Tulsa is the 1984 nine-miles-a-gallon stallion you are riding in. Do not, by any means, let anyone that has not woken up in a cold sweat using the snare drum as a pillow put her down. That is your home, and you want people to care for it as if they lived among the once cushioned seats. You and your band mates, however, should spend your mornings talking about the crappiness of said ride until lunch.

Rock Star Tip #10: Remember the Good Old Days

Once your band hits the big time and your ride is updated to a multi-million dollar bus with more luxury than the typical suburban house, be sure to remember the early mornings spent explaining to the curious police officer why you were in a van spooning with your mohawked bass player when the heat broke. These are the glory days, so when you are hanging out on the bus late at night after the third sold out stadium show you can lie to all your fans and tell them how you would rather be sleeping in the van like the old days.

Hanging Out With Oscar

2007-02-25T22:29:00.000-05:00

The Academy Awards are on tonight. Unless you are reading this after the day they are broadcast, then it would be worded the Academy Awards were on last night, a few days ago, or even possibly earlier this week. It is the semantics of the argument which makes writing so difficult. To build an world with words enabling the reader to close their eyes after a paragraph and smell the fresh air of a Northern Ireland loch as you see a family of otters out for their morning shell shucking while the sun breaks over the horizon welcoming in the new day is quite the feat not many are able to do. And those few that can bring a fantasy world to life in your imagaination are praised with that golden sticker found on some books...the name of it just slips my mind. The Polar Express had one. You learned about it in grade school and there was a silver sticker as well that went to lesser great books, whatever, I'm sure it is still important AND impressive. For those who cannot capture one's imagination with words, do so with film, and are praised with Academy Awards; a cheapened version of that little golden sticker thingy found on books.

When I put my creativity to use, it has never been fueled by the opportunity to win an award. This could be that praise from my friends and readers are enough to keep me going, or because the only thing I ever won was the "Thanks for Participating" Little League award and I once came in third place in the Egg-On-A-Spoon race during Field Day. I have been known to dabble in making videos and it would be a lie to say that I would not want to stand up on that stage thanking my 8th grade science teacher before being played off to the theme of Jurassic Park, but it is not easy to win an Oscar. Though, as every year passes I am starting to see a trend and if I play towards these few things I may be able to snag me a gold man; or atleast get invited to the ceremony and steal one from Nick Cage, the best actor ever.

The Academy hates comedy. In fact, I would go so far as to say that they hate any type of happiness. So I would not allow any of the actors in my movie to smile. Throughout 80% of the movie there must be someone crying in the frame, but not normal "Oh my god, where did the lower portion of my leg go" crying. The Academy only respects crying from emotional pain. The kind of pain you suffer when you have to shoot your best friend to save the woman you love, or shoot your best friend because he killed the woman you love, or shoot your best friend because he was also loving the woman you love. So during each take I would be dunking a puppy in a large tub of water. Once the bubbles stop, the tears flow like rivers.

Any actor or filmmaker with a rough, learn-from-the-streets upbringing has a better shot at winning than a middle class white kid from NJ. Obviously there is nothing I can do to change where I grew up or the situations I faced as a youth, but I could fake my own death and re-create a new persona. All I'd need is the body of a bum with similar physical features, five gallons of gasoline, and a good plastic surgeon. I could reconstruct my chin, get hair plugs which would allow me to finally grow a sweet beard, and spend 36 months training with a language coach to learn how to speak with a Northern Jersey accent.

An important factor when making a movie is having a plot. Inde film directors forget this most of the time. As do inde bands when they produce an album recorded using a trashcan and a two-stringed banjo. The word "inde" is just another word for "suck." The most important thing the Academy looks for, besides a person's race, sex, or political influence, is the substance of their movie. When writing a movie it is important to remember that people are watching to be entertained, not wondering why there is a dancing ampersand stabbing the covenient store clerk while humming Hail to the Chief. If all else fails, look back on history and write a movie about someone's life. William Wallace, Mozart, and Ray Charles have all been taken but some historical figures who have not had their lives transposed to film are waiting in movie purgatory for you. People like Stewart Scott and Rich Eisen, that dolphin from SeaQuest, and the team that plays the Harlem Globetrotters.

A running trend throughout the history of the 79 years of awards has been the artistic nature of films. Throughout the ages, artists have been known to be controversial in ways they have expressed themselves though I can say with certainty this next piece of advice is key when making your Oscar winning film. DO NOT PUT GRATUITOUS NUDITY IN YOUR MOVIE. I don't understand it either, but this is what kept Car Wash IV out of contention. If you must put nudity in your film please follow the "One Titty" rule from films like Shakespear in Love and Titanic. You may expose one titty, but it cannot be over a B-cup and no one can find it sexy in any way.

The last piece of vital information I can spot about the Academy Awards is to make sure no one has ever heard of your movie until it has been nominated. If you have big named actors, make sure they are in movies with many more explosions and actual entertaining proporties to them that will overshine your movie shot in your basement, eating peanut butter sandwiches from your mom. If your movie does open as a major blockbuster event, make sure that it is well over 3 hours long. If this means dragging out non-important scenes of characters silently walking through fields or adding on an hour and a half of crying it is your obligation to the Academy to do so.

But I am in no rush to get an Oscar. I am content with a comment from a friend, a quote in a profile, or a fan getting my intials tattooed on their body.

The State of My Union

2007-01-23T21:34:00.000-05:00

I come before you today to bring you a message. A message not carried by a winged creature into your living rooms through an open window scaring your children and insighting you to beat the poor bird to death with a broom; but a message of understanding. Coming to grips with the words you are reading and the path they took to get there. We are all filled with insecurities about ourselves and about the world and I believe it is time for us to acknowledge these insecurities and cry out to the world, "I am afraid of popping balloons!" So I want to open up the discussion to the floor and start off with a few of my own insecurities.

My dad never showed me how to shave. I learned from watching Gilette commercials. Not being a complete idiot helped too. It was common sense that if I drag this razor along my face, my sad excuse for facial hair will help the ever-growing clog in the sink. But because I never had anyone to teach me the correct way to shave, I am always self-conscious about it when other people are around. I fear others are silently judging every pass I take with my razor, calling me names and scoffing as they watch my unorthodox methods of hair hygene.

Another internal demon I fight with on an almost daily basis is my inability to correctly get on pace with an escalator. Sometimes while I'm in the mall I will walk up to the giant moving staircase and hesitate half a second too long and then almost plunge to my death and tumbling over and over catching others not paying attention in a snowball of bodies until the headlines the next day read; "Technology Kills Again; 17 Dead in Escalator Accident." I don't know why I can't simply step up to an escalator without worry like everyone else in the world. There are double dutch jumpers in the world that think less about their approach than I do. I will stutter-step my way onto an escalator to ensure I step fully onto a step instead of a crack, and it has nothing to do with the condition of my mother's back.

But internal battles are not the only thing that make my day harder. Ketchup is yummy. Most of us put it on anything from hamburgers to french fries and sometimes eggs. It is second only to Ranch Dressing in the condiment world; recently losing out to the country-style goodness. And even though we put ketchup on so many things we devour in the course of our day, and the ungodly amount of ketcup we will douse on any given french fry; it is absolutely disgusting to eat alone. If ketchup were a superhero, it could never be the star of its own comic book.

These are the types of things that torment my life. I assure you that they are all true so if you are ever walking with me in a mall watch the beads of sweat build up on my brow as we approach the mechanical mountain. Everyone has stupid things that bug them that the greater public would not, so if you can think of one leave it in the comment section. Consider this group therapy and I'm the psychologist and we are all f**king crazy.

Resolution Revolution!

2007-01-17T23:43:00.000-05:00

The busy holiday season is over. Those gifts you meant to return are now yours to stalk the dark corradors of your closet until the relative that gave them to you dies. Those of you with jobs have gone back to work in your offices with the co-workers you admire and that guy from the mailroom you are pretty sure still has your panties in the back of his SUV after he gave you a ride home from the Christmas Party. But more importantly the year has ended. The constant gonadal punch of 2006 has left and we now have to deal with the creeping abdominal pain of 2007.

To sound cliched enough for the Hallmark crowd; a new year brings a new beginning, except our new beginning was bought at a garage sale. The new slate set before us has dried up pieces of soul left behind from the last time it was used to disembowel the dreams of the youth. But just because our past wil always be sitting at the next table over tossing peanuts and crumpled up straw wrappers in our drinks, mocking us, does not mean we cannot make this year better.

That is why I have made up a list of points I would like to see carried out this year. Not so much a resolution, as a promise to myself and all those in my life. If we could look into the future we would see flying cars, talking dogs, meals in pill form, equipment that lets us breath underwater, those same talking dogs talking in Spanish, and a different me than the me in your life today. One year from now let us revisit this column, and note how I accomplished all of the following things.

1) Stop wasting more time finding a quote for my away message than the time I will actually be away. Sure, I love 24 as much as the next guy but Jack Bauer does not take bathroom breaks so your search for Keifer Sutherland saying in his oh-so-sexy-groggy voice "Hold on, I have to tinkle" on IMDB is futile. The next time you have to run to the loo and need that perfect quote, image the sound of your bladder exploding and what the paramedic might say as he enters your room. Maybe you'll even go easy on the aspargus from now on.

2) Become more closed off and take more time to analyze different aspects of my life. I can no longer wear my heart on my sleeve. No more will anyone walking past know exactly what is going on in my life. This past year it felt like everyone was inside my head, with psychic abilites to read my mind. I am sorry to say, I will have to pull back a bit, not show my hand to the rest of the table. And along with that, I will look at parts of my life and think really hard about them; almost to a point of obsession. Sure, she may have said thank you and gave me a kiss... but what does that really mean? She's probably sleeping with my best friend.

3) Kick the sudoku habit. It started recreationally; just with friends. A social puzzler. Then I started doing it more frequently, I even started doing it alone. I stopped using protection, finding myself doing puzzles in pen. I knew I had a problem when I woke up one morning and still had the pen in my hand. I was up to 8-10 puzzles a day. It ruined relationships, work habits, and I can no longer play tic-tac-toe without sweating profusely.

4) Get Facebook to change the relationship options. Let's face it, relationships are complex and sometimes simply stating that you are "In a Relationship With ______" is not accurate. In order for people to fully understand the relationship you and another have there must be different options. For those of you who are waiting until marriage there should be options like "Outercourse is Just As Fun With ____" or "Getting Cheated on By _____." And where are the choices for those out there just having fun? Well with these changes you can select from a variety of new classifications such as "First Her Roommate and Now _____", "Drunkenly Hooking Up with _____" and, of course, "Getting Plowed By _____."

5) Teach my parents how to use a cell phone. My dad grew up in the days of ham-radios where you could talk to someone from halfway around the country as long as they were a pre-StarWars era nerd like you building radios in their basement on a Friday night.; only problem was he could probably hear you without the radio since you had to scream into the reciever. My father has not quite grasped the concept that technology has alleviated this problem and as such I'm deaf in my left ear. With my mom the problem is she won't pick up her phone. "Oh, I thought I heard it ringing!" Yea, would have been nice if you had picked it up, I wasn't calling to keep you up to date on the Knicks' scores. Next time I need a bone marrow match I'll try my chances with the homeless guy they found in the alley. It may be easier to teach computer science to an emu, but it would make life the littlest bit easier.

6) Get a job. A good job like a lawyer or the manager of a Foot Locker. I know I will have to start at the bottom and I have weighed my options. I thought of starting out as a Newise but I can't sing or dance, and shining shoes requires a British accent. All the good jobs are going overseas nowadays. I comtemplated Med School with my unhealthy obsession with Scrubs and House, I am practically a doctor already. But Med School is expensive so I came across another option. The OC has been cancelled so there is a spot for a twenty-somethings drama that needs to be filled. I want to create a show like MTV Undressed without the worry of your parents walking in on you watching it. It would be called College Hopes and would detail the lives of an ansemble cast who each have different tales to tell. It wouldn't always be easy but by sticking together through thick and thin, they would survive. "Afterall, dreams do come true for those with... College Hopes."

7) Become so famous a porn star rips off my name. This is connected with #6. After College Hopes wins its many awards, anything I produce will become gold and soon I will be the talk of Hollywood and I'll be the one getting a restraining order against Natalie Portman instead of the other way around! But I do not simply want fame and fortune at a normal level. I want to be able to go into an adult boutique and see the movie Sorority Soccer Girls 3 starring Mark Hunglow and Dave MaxFearsom.

Of course there are other things I would like to accomplish this year. I would not mind moving out of my parent's house, perhaps write more frequently, or even meet a nice girl who I won't completely screw over. But I wanted to keep this column realistic.

Stupid, Sexist, and in every way Accurate

2006-11-20T01:26:00.000-05:00

Recently my days have consisted of waking up, scaring school children waiting for the bus by removing bloodied lawn tools from my trunk and a bag where something that looks strikingly like a human head falls out, while some time after that I head to the gym. Going to the gym has kept me sane these last few weeks as the kids have started to become desensitized to my actions and one of these days the kids (and the authorities) will realize why their parents have disappeared. There is something about repetitive motion that makes life rewarding; that's why during my last mental break down I kept rocking back and forth repeating the female lead to Paradise By The Dashboard Lights for 36 straight hours. All of these things remind us that you have to keep trying, strive towards your goal, its not all over if you don't get a good jump out of the gate; keep your head in the game.

First impressions take three seconds to make, and if you screw that up; you are f**ked. Sure, everyone is a unique little snowflake and the true beauty of a person is not physical, but when you walk past me in the supermarket the first thought in my head is not, "I bet we could spend the night together just having great conversation." This is why you don't see bachelor parties at MENSA meetings. Sure, you're smart and interesting, but if I really wanted that I would have dated the snaggle-toothed, pre-law girl that wrote my thesis for me in college.

If I have not already broken years of protective boundaries all you ladies have build up over the years, let me assure you that most of these first impressions are going to fall on the Up & Out Policy. This societal phenomenon can be compared to your average school's grading system; though reversed. No one with A's is going to reach the Honor Roll, while your D students are going to get most of the recognition from the school. All women are built differently, but the amount of variety in the funness of said bags astonishes me; so I came up with a theory.

The only reason we have small tittied women around is because people only lived until they were like 26.

As with any new claim on the nature of the universe there will be cause for alarm and an outcry against the change. Did people believe Columbus when he said the earth revolved around the sun? No, there was no absolute acceptance like the time Kennedy was shot by Lee Harvey Oswald. Sometimes things cannot be as clean cut as that. But I have a degree in philosophy so I am officially licensed to philosophize.

Back in a time before modern medicine the lifespan of the average person was significantly lower. Waiting until you are 30 to get married only came about with the debut of Friends. Less than 100 years ago, once you could physically pop out kids you were sent off to be married around the age of 12. Since this is before the titty has the proper time to ripen, the guys which married these girls had no clue as to what brand of utter came with the cow. Because of this the country could have made a disastrous mistake. America has had its fair share of screw-ups with slavery and interment camps, but edged by this one. Think about it, if people lived until they were 90 back then, we may have started putting the small tittied bitches on mountains.

I'm not saying there are not some guys out there that like small boobs, I'm just saying all guys like big boobs.

The JF Label

2006-11-01T22:19:00.000-05:00

When a guy has screwed up, he will do anything within reason, and some things on the boundary as long as he leaves behind ample reasonable doubt, to right the situation. From sending gifts to taking advantage of a time when she needs comfort because some crazed madman seems to have broken into her apartment, kidnapped her precious kitten, tied it up in a burlap sack and tossed it into the river; our instincts as Alpha Males do not let us give up until all hope is lost. Some guys even choose to make themselves vulnerable in front of women and write their emotions and feelings in cards and letters baring their souls. Most are never heard of again.

Movies and television shows would have us believe that any relationship problem can be instantly whisked away by a strategically timed monologue confessing your heart during a rainstorm. As long as you put enough time and effort into winning a girl's heart, at the end of day you will be together; or at least get some during prom. I am not saying that moviemakers are bending the realities of true life. I am saying it is complete bullshit. Not everything can be saved by a poem during a rainstorm or candles and a hallmark card. At the end of the night you will have spent three months trying to save what you used to have and she will still be the one that got away.

If you are lucky you will still remain friends. Normally when a girl bluntly stomps on the heart that you have put before her, you are going to feel a bit bummed. Sometimes, though, you don't. And it is at that moment you should come to the realization that her direct rejection was one of the best things to happen to you, even if it could have been better timed than at your Grandmother's 90th birthday party with all of your relatives gathered 'round. Now you are in the realm of being "Just Friends." It is a much different world than "Being a Couple" or even "Hooking Up Occasionally" and, as with any change of title, comes a new set of rules and regulations that she must understand.

The first aspect of life which is different is that we are no longer riding down the one-way street to Panty Lane. Life has become a two-way road and this means that on occasion you are going to have to be the one to initialize conversation. It is not that we do not want to hang out with you, it is the ratio of time spent with you to time seeing you naked has decreased dramatically, and you will not automatically be the first person we check with for weekend plans. But we still will call, we just do not have to have any good ideas as to what to do. We're not trying to impress you anymore so we won't write up a list involving everything from seeing a movie to a non-innuendoed spelunking adventure and keep it next to the phone. Pick up the phone, even to tell me you saw pickles on sale and it reminded you of the time I ate 5 1/2 jars junior year and threw up in the shower; because I would do the same for you if I saw someone drunkenly stumble into the lake and cover themselves with mud reliving the last scene in Predator.

The second thing I want to make you aware of is, all of your friends are available to me. It is against Guy Code to go after a buddy's woman no matter how long they have been broken up; but women are different. Women are soulless creatures that are constantly searching for a soul they can mold to do their bidding. After you have so elegantly destroyed me and left me for dead in the world, who better than a young lady I already have a connection with to come by and caress my broken soul; building me back up until a time she sees fit to devour me and my self-esteem back down into the pits of hell deemed a relationship. And it is not our fault if this happens. Women are backstabbing seductresses with magical globes of power attached to their chest, and we men are powerless against them. Besides, I probably met you while hooking up with one of your other friends anyway.

During our time together, we probably had a song. Maybe we were both aware of it because you never forget the song playing the first time you get a 2nd degree burn from a pan of hot water being thrown in your general direction because you thought it would be fun to sneak up behind her in the kitchen. Or maybe she did not know that every time you heard Girls Just Wanna Have Fun it brought a tear to your eye because of her love for multicolored hair accessories. Rest assured that this song has been deleted off every Ipod, hard-drive, and CD in our possession and we have taken every step necessary to reduce the chance of ever coming in contact with that song again; even if that meant surgically having a chunk of my brain removed so I could unlearn the song on guitar. Love has a price, but fixing said love has a recovery period with a co-pay.

Over the next few months you may get discouraged that I am falling for you again because away messages so cryptic that top NSA agents would cry at night being unable to figure them out, will start showing up. Do not be alarmed; I have not fallen off the "Just Friends" bandwagon. This is merely to alert you that some other perky demon spawn has started to destroy my life and I am indirectly telling her the business. Sure, most people would not take a text message saying "I'll give you a call later" as a bad sign but I could overanalyze a grocery list, and have spent the last four hours going over every possible situation, sitting by the phone, rehearsing line by line, ready to answer and stumble over my words after choking out a way to enthusiastic "Hey!" Don't worry, you will not have to hear us complain about her because the last thing we want is for you to retaliate the favor and have to sit through stories of the new guy that's tagging you.

But you are my friend. We can grab a bite, catch a movie, or even take a non-innuendoed spelunking trip and not think anything of it. There is no more risk of you cutting me off so I am more free to share with you my true feelings on topics such as crying phone calls and their need to stop, paying me back for all that money I spent on you, I hate your cat, really not caring if your hair is up or down, gun repair, and how cute your sister is. Our relationship is bound to grow even stronger than it was before without the complications of a physical relationship, but if you ever want to get complicated again, even just for one night, give me a call.

The Soothing Power of Music

2006-10-12T22:27:00.000-04:00

The cliche is that money cannot buy happiness. You see it everyday with rockstars like Dashboard Confessional who have more money than the Catholic Church but still manage to crank out album after album of songs full of messages about life doing them wrong and girl's destroying their hearts. Now either they are just following the equation that got them a record deal, Tight Shirt + Tears x The Amount of Money Wasted on That Anniversary Present You Bought Before Walking in on Her and Your Best Friend = Platinum Record, or life is hard when you have to choose which Porsche to drive to the servants quarters so Fredrico can go the store and pick up some more Mallowmars. Track #7: My Soul Is Empty (because you forgot to restock the pantry).

But that is what music is for; expressing our emotions so girls will not think we are complete pansies. Who do you think gets laid more; Chris Cornell, lead singer of Audioslave, or Josh Brugneil, college sophomore who performs poetry at his school's open mic night in the coffeeshop? Regardless if this guy is the reincarnation of Shel Silverstein or not (he's dead right?) most women shrug off poetry into a pile with guys that win chess tournaments, collect and stuff dead animals into a taxidermied army ready to invade at a moment's notice, or do comedy. Girls say they want the sensitive, smart, and funny guy; and they are not lying, they just prefer he played guitar, spoke in an Australian accent, and had to the power to get rid of spiders and any other creepy crawly thing with his mind as well.

The perfect person. The one being on the planet that you want to spend the rest of your life with. How many of you out there have found that perfect person? You love the way they eat their cereal in the morning, the way they dance while brushing their teeth before bed, and you love Muffins her cat gently greeting you when you walk in the door with a purr. But as with everything, time changes these things. After a little while, you wish she could get through one bowl without slurping so god damn much, hate every song by FallOutBoy especially when sung with a toothbrush in her mouth, and have drowned the cat in the bathtub to send her a message.

If only you had been in the band in highschool maybe you could have written a song to get all that pent up aggression out. Because music is not all about the girl that broke your heart, though have you ever noticed when you screw up with a girl the radio is your enemy? Think about the last fight you had with your significant other. Your day is shitty, you do not feel like eating, and every song that comes on your Ipod just exfoliates how much of a dick you are. I recently screwed up big time with a girl, and songs became horoscopes; even if they had nothing to do with my life at the moment I would interpret it in a way to make it apply. Its a sad day when Cotton Eye Joe can bring a guy to the brink of tears.

I know I messed up, and I do not need the Red Hot Chili Peppers making it worse with their funktastic melodies.

Women: A Case Study

2006-10-08T22:48:00.000-04:00

I have heard some great arguments. I would love to say I have been a part of them, but people do not particularly like to argue with me in person. I have been told that exclusively on a number of occasions. They will fight with me over the internet, through a third party, over the phone on occasion, but never in person. If we lived back in the day I'm sure I would have a few good examples of arguments via courier pigeon too. And I'm not talking arguments with merit behind them; god no. I hate arguing politics, or worse, religion because I do not know a damn thing about either of those subjects. I am talking about important subjects like most useful superpower, who would win in a fight; my cat or a seagull, and women.

And I will not group women together with religion and politics into the "Stuff I Don't Know Shit About" category because I pretty much have them figured out. After extensive research on the topic I have come to a few hypotheses about women and I feel it is the right time to share with the world my findings using proper MLA citations. It has taken years of casual observing (HighSchool 1999), months of indepth interview session(College, Finals Week 2004), and the occasional particant observation (Roommate's Bed, 2006) for me to come to these conclusions.

It is very important to understand your subject before you start to criticize it. It is quite simple to understand a woman. You have to understand that she has emotions which drive her decisions, and to her, every decision is important. Sure, that sweater is $88, its the middle of summer, and she lives in a place where the temperature does not drop below 70 degrees, but it makes her boobs looks fabulous; and how often does that come around? Women are beautiful mistresses put on this Earth to exemplify the true meaning of magnificent, but lest not forget women are materialistic and fickle. As such, most will find the first point to be controversial.

It is much easier to be a woman. Please do not throw examples like child birth and menstruation at me. First off, how many times in your life are you planning on squirting a munckin out? Perhaps twice or three times? We're not running a plantation and have a need for farm hands; you should not be pumping out more kids than I appendages to discipline them with! Besides, child birth is a natural event that produces a new life, and you girls eat that crap up. Babies are cute, they're like kittens but not as bouncy. As for menstruation, we suffer through that right along with you baby. And its not just with you, oh no. We have to deal with all the women in our lives. You just so happen to be the only one we are sleeping with at the moment. And ladies, you know how you can tell your man is being faithful? If he's as miserable as you are during that week, he does not have some girl on the side. If he comes home smiling saying lines like "Baby, its alright, I was tired anyway." You better start following him to and from work.

When it comes to everyday life it is easier to have two X chromosomes. Women tend to get along with other women right off the bat. They need a good couple days to get to know each other well enough before they start stabbing each other in the back. And even then it takes a person with the ability to read auras to point out which chick a woman hates. For guys, it is the complete opposite. Have you ever been compelled by the laws of the universe to hate somebody because of the sports team they cheer for? If the doctor that is about to perform emergency surgery to repair your innerworkings has on the colors of a rival team you there is something inside a man that will make sure you get to that scalpel first and save mankind from his type. Everything is a competition. When guys first meet we size each other up and figure out what we are better at than the other guy. He can bench twice his body weight, is a war hero, and found a cure for cancer, but I can successfully eat seven saltines in a minute. I think the winner here is obvious.

Now I will open up the floor to some comments. But women get paid less money for the same work! Is money really important as long as you love what you do? But society holds women to insane criteria to be considered beautiful! Comparing every guy you see to Brad Pitt and that guy from Grey's Anatomy is really fair, eh? Sorry, it comes with the Equal Rights package. But women did not have the right to vote until the 1950's! Well I was not allowed to drive until I was seventeen, but now I can, and you can vote; so shut up about it.

Women may be the reason we do stupid things like eat popcorn off the ground of the movie theater for a laugh. And they may make us forget simple things like you were going to walk her to her car, you were even standing next to door, and then sat back down while your roommates looked on with befuddledment as she left. And they may also make you go clinically insane by the time your 25. But women are the only keeping us from playing volleyball without shirts on even though we're out of shape, eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon, and finishing an entire Madden football season in one day. And, I guess, we should be grateful because who would want to do any of that ridiculously fun stuff 24/7?

A Very Special Episode of AoR

2006-10-02T02:07:00.000-04:00

So what's the problem? Its just transition. Everyone deals with it and this won't be the only time I'll have to do it in my life. But I'll get this off my chest and put it up on my website and try to throw a joke in every now and then as to not completely bore anyone who decided to throw away their free time by reading me babble like all those other assholes with websites do. My babble I usually believe as worthwhile to read, this may be for those wondering whats up.

When people would ask me how life is I'd smile, shrug my shoulders and answer, "Shitty! But let's not let it ruin the day!" Turtles walk around with a hardshell around them at all times, us humans have to work hard to maintain that kind of safety bubble. Somehow I have kept my sanity through 4 months of absolutely nothing. The main reason I am so psycho to find a job is because I was always the person with the job in the past. I worked at the same place since I was 16, working every waking second, sacrificing time with friends, family, girls, and any personal time. You could say that in my head I don't find it fair. Its how I grew up. I didn't work at JC Penny 20 hours a week selling sweaters. I lived, breathed, (on some occasions I dont want to talk about, might have) killed working at the Arts Center.

"Hell, Dave, if you like it so much why not just do that?" The reason I loved it so much is the exact reason I don't want to do it. It becomes your entire life. But I have a degree I don't want to use and have to sit on job experiences to hook a phone call. Statistically, I should have gotten at least one phone call from someone curious about the certified Hostage Negotiator that just wanted the story.

I can't even hold conversations with my friends because NOTHING happens in my week. Its a real great feeling to call a friend to wish them a happy birthday, and after you get those two words out of your mouth you're out of shit to talk about. If I got a phone call from anyone I would almost think that's enough of a catylist to dial up an old friend. The next time my sister invites me over to dinner, you know all of you are getting calls about it.

So about my love life.... no, not going there. For those still curious however, its kind of like the the previous paragraph, except add in "The next time my sister invites me over to dinner, you know you're getting a phone call about it because I'm going to try and play it off as a date."

Getting up on stage used to be a release. No matter how shitty my life was I could get up on stage and everything would go away. Believe me, I tried my hardest to make my life miserable before some of the biggest shows I ever did. Being up in front of people had a way of letting me forget about the real world for a second. For that hour and a half, I wasn't the biggest jerk in the world or stressed out from working for hours and getting no respect or recognition from anyone; that was my home. My universe. Nothing could go wrong.

Somehow that got messed up to. Though this one isn't entirely my fault. MadCow must have spoiled me. Granted I was the person that was the most frustrated and irratable person to deal with whenever I had to negotiate a situation inside the herd. And if I was in the process of writing/filming/editing a video, it didn't matter how cute you were, I was preoccupied. What's been going on the last few weeks has just been frustrating. I don't know how to fix it, I don't know if I can fix it, and I probably shouldn't post anything on the internet until I talk to the guys about it, but I'm the one that can't sleep at 2am and I'll call them tommorow. So shhhhh, if you see them.

Distractions have been handy. The gym has been a good one, but the past two weeks it hasn't completely worked (damn you pretty girl!). Fighting with my cousin seems to work while I'm training with the boys, but I still suck at it (damn you guys bigger than me!). Other distractions I've tried over the course of time but haven't stuck have been slightly amusing. I tried reading. Got through 4 1/2 out of 5 books of the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and flat out stopped (damn you phonics!). My idea to practice manipulating cards and sleight of hand after watching 6 straight hours of MindFreak fell through after I realized I can't do camera tricks (damn you Criss Angel!).

And I haven't been keeping up with this even though the best way I deal with things is make fun of them. But why? Part of it could be because a friend said to me this weekend, "You should write stuff that won't offend your friends." To which I replied, "Maybe I should get friends that won't be offended by what I write." (damn you friends???) But that's why I haven't written as much as usual, because the only thing I do with my day is hang out with the cat and occasionally, when you guys all get home from work, or class, or sitting around with your pets all day, I talk to you.

It was so much easier when I was more of a loner. Its hard to not write shit like this entry everytime you sit at your keyboard when its the only thing that rolls through your head all day.

So I may not have a job. I may not be able to land more than one punch during Fight Club. I may not be ready to swallow my pride and grow a pair. I may not fit in with my new group. And I may not have written what you expected to see when you clicked on the link in my profile. But there are a few things that keep me sane so that when people ask me "How's life?" I can respond.

Shitty. But let's not let it ruin our day.

Something Beautiful

2006-09-14T22:41:00.000-04:00

How come sometimes things work out and sometimes they don't? Philosophers say that there is a balance to the universe and everything evens out. The good with the bad. The beautiful with the grotesque. The employed and me. But sometimes it feels like the scales are tipped in others' favor while you are stuck at the bottom like a fat kid on a see-saw. All you want to do is have fun but the world is a constant reminder that you will spend another week eating your lunch in the library hoping no one farts in your trumpet case when you're not looking only to open it at band practice after school and get a whiff of what James McDoogal left behind hours later.

And no matter how many times you threaten to stab a person in the eye with a ballpoint pen for bringing it up, they will still insist that it will get better. Eventually it will be your turn up to plate in the cricket match of life; you may not understand what you're doing or even what the rules are but if you just start swinging wildly, after a while, you will statistically mistakenly do something right. And a few months ago I was sure my life took one look at that googley and sent it flying in whichever way you need to send it to get whatever is equal to a homerun in cricket; because she walked back into my life.

*Enter Film Noir Voiceover Mode*

We had a rocky past. It was true. When we met we were just two crazy kids with vengence on our mind. Not at anyone in particular, but at the world. The kind of vengence a goth kid has in his eyes when he is told he got the answer wrong in Junior Year English class; take that for reading Nitzche, wearing all black and not having any friends. She... was a firecracker. An absolute babe with a streak to get a little crazy. Things got too hot too fast and I had to cool down; her eyes were like lasers that would cut me in half unlike all those James Bond films where it seemed like he was doomed but got out at the last second. My heart was giving out. I couldn't run this marathon at her pace. So I let her go like that old saying says, "If you love someone, let them go. If she steals your teddy bear from your room as she's leaving and sends you small pieces in the mail with a ransom note, bitch is crazy."

That was years ago, and I heard the Feds finally tracked her down after a three state chase. Thanks to her they added a new color to the Homeland Security Scale. She seemed so innocent, like the way bears seem really gentle when you see them at the zoo but the second you find a bear cub in the forest and dress it up like Teddy Ruxbin momma comes around and the next camping trip you are taking is so you can scatter your friend's ashes in the field where he lost his virginity to Tiffany Zebrowski who turned out to be his third cousin.

But she walked back into my life not so many weeks ago and I thought it could be like old times. Sure, she's been around the block more times than a Lego inspector. And maybe she didn't always have that tattoo of of the rebel flag across her shoulders. And perhaps she forgot my name when I ran up to her at the airport and maced me. But once she realized who I was, and I corrected her from calling me Dan, we were the same old couple. My parents may not have ever liked her, my friends and a couple churches down South call her the Devil Incarnate, and she's constantly sleeping with other guys. But what we had was love.

Then she went and moved to Nashville... such is the balance of the universe. Maybe one day it will swing back my way. For now though, I'm just going to tell everyone the tattoo of her intials I got on my chest stand for Something Beautiful, because that's what she was. And I will still say that no matter how many knife fights end with you wearing an eye patch.

People Tell Me Things

2006-09-01T00:29:00.000-04:00

People tell me things. They tell me things about their life that normal people share with friends in normal conversation. I get told a lot about how their job hunt is going, or getting ready to move out of their parent's house and start a new life, or even worse, how their love life is doing. And then they ultimately ask for advice. And I am the perfect person to go to for relationship advice, I have always advocated that. In all my relationships, how many ended with her not talking to me for a number of weeks and/or months? Exactly, all of them. But how many of them still talk to me now after they have had time to think about what they are missing? Exactly... uhhh, next topic.

People tell me things. Deep secrets of love and love lost. Topics that really bring two people together in a bond of truth about those most serious woes of the heart. But no one has ever told me that they have accidently killed a man in a hit and run accident... and that hurts me inside. If I can be trusted to divulge the most intimate of relationship details to, why can you not tell me of the time you burnt down that church while the nuns were asleep inside on a dare? Am I not good enough for you to explain to me how you stole $15 million dollars from the Special Olympics back in 1997? The defintion of friendship is one of trust and understanding. Now I trust you, why can't you understand that I want to hear your stories of defacing a public building with Nazi propaganda?!

People tell me things. They don't tell me anything remotely interesting, just the boring mundane trials of life. If I have to sit through another story of how someone's grandmother "got through the surgery well and is going to make a complete recovery," I think I'm going to get sick. Woo Hoo! Her gaul bladder didn't explode. Mine hasn't either. Congratu-frikkin-lations. Do you really want to impress me? Tell me grandma's last dying words were "Avenge my death!" and you spent the last three hours stalking around a hospital with a syringe full of mercury looking for the bastard of a medical student who brought your grandma lunch that day just because he's wearing a white coat. Moving around slowly and inconspicuously you take out every member of the medical staff that came into contact with your grandma that day just in case, and you want to make sure grandma's got company in hell.

People tell me things. What do you have to tell me?

Joyous Jackolantern Smiles

2006-08-16T00:15:00.000-04:00

Its the end of the summer, and for the first time in my life this means nothing more than August is ending and September is sweeping in right on time behind it. I don't have to worry about packing my life into boxes and moving back into college. I don't have to look up a book on sparknotes because I forgot to do my summer reading. And I don't have deal with the pressure of choosing seats on the first day of class. But with the end of summer comes the end of opportunity for me. I dropped the ball and have just come to grips with what I lost, even though it was at my finger tips.

It has been another summer without driving an ice cream truck. My dreams and ambitions of playing the tunes of children's happiness is washed away when Auntie Autumn shows up, wearing something way to revealing for a woman her age, and making all of the leaves change color from embarassment. Only once in my life do I want to drive around that magic truck of good times, delievering joy in the form of an overpriced Flintstone's push-pop. It is very important for me to accomplish this at a young age because the girls that babysit these children aren't getting any older and soon it will not only be illegal; it will just be plain creepy.

Sure, most girls of legal age have legitimate jobs working at ice cream stores but every so often there's one whose job revolves around the lives of their neighbor's children. Those are my targets. How do I know how old they are? Simple, I would have to card every person coming up to my truck because who can make enough money just selling ice cream. I'd be a moble liquor store, tabacoo palace, and gun shop. Kids love ice cream, but they also love firearms. There's nothing qute like the look on a youngin's face when you hand them a fully loaded 12-guage shotgun and they can live out their wildest counter-strike fantasies. Of course, I don't let the kids keep the gun, that would be immoral and wrong. I just let them pick off a few pigeons; feel the power.

In fact, I probably won't have enough room on the truck for the ice cream with all the other merchandise. But I'll still have the jingle. The sweet call of the ice cream man, who sells knives, chinese throwing stars, and electronics he got from a guy. The innocence of children walking up the truck and ordering their choco-taco, pep-pills, and placing a bet on Hope Mom Doesn't Walk In to show in the 5th race at Saratoga. The warm feeling in my heart after a toddler walks away from my truck with his Astropop, proximity trigger mines, or cigars of only the finest Cuban tabacoo.

Some think what I'm doing for these children is going to make the headlines someday. They stand on the street yelling "I am calling someone about this. You will get what's coming to you!" and I simply tell them not worry themselves with rewards. I'm not in it for the fame or the money. I'm all about seeing those little faces smile.

What Ever Happened To...

2006-08-11T10:46:00.000-04:00

There are a few moments of transition in a person's life. Around my area, going to highschool was one of those transitions because two different elementry schools emptied into one highschool. This meant that half the school would not know about the time you cried at the 7th grade dance when Tiffany Howard wouldn't dance with you, then you went into the bathroom slipped and broke your arm in three places but they never checked so you were stuck inside that bathroom until Monday morning when the janitor found you. Your past was mysterious and you could recreate yourself into a smooth mamajamma. At least that's what I thought could happen until I got to highschool and everyone was still refering to me as the Bathroom Kid. Teenagers are harsh.

But another thing that happened with that transition is some of the people you hung out with in the eariler grades started to slip away. Whether they did not make the football team or they sprouted boobs and suddenly became more popular with the upperclassmen, some of our close friends became not so close until ultimately at graduation you did not even acknowledge each other's existance. Its no one's fault, and it happens throughout life.

They move away to another state or the court decides you are no longer allowed to contact them; usually something gets in the way of that connection you used to have. You lose touch with people and most of the time its people you've seen naked. Now, I have lost touch with people I haven't seen naked. But most of the time, you've seen them naked. No matter how hard you try you will not be able to forget you saw them naked. Especially if she's ugly and your friends know about it because friends never let you forget about the ugly girl. Oh, they will forget that time you got Tiffany Howard at junior prom in the coat check room, but the time you skipped gym class and made out with Bridgette Kovolski because "it was dark, and her snaggletooth wasn't as dominant" will plague you until you die.

As you grow older maybe those old connections with people will florish in your life again along with your three kids, beautiful wife, house almost paid off, and Bonkers the family dog. Then you can throw it all away for a fling with some girl you met in college that you ran into visiting your old school on Homecoming. Fourth floor of the library, like old times. And just like old times, you walked away with an unpleasent sensation and I am not talking your conscious. Some people are best left in the past.

Summer Lovin'

2006-08-05T19:24:00.000-04:00

Making it to August normally signals the end of summer is right around the corner. And even with global warming in full effect this season of sunshine and happiness is coming to a close waiting ever so patiently for the season of snow and depression to creep up on us. But for some people out there, they don't have to wait until Mr. Sun no longer listens to the praise of children to "please, come shine on me" to fall into that drafty basement of being down. No, for although these months were specific created by the Babylonians to assure that everyone got at least one round of Tickle the Grapes in the Garden, some people have been unable to find that summer fling; and its almost harvest season.

The summer fling. Either its a time of adolescent fun between two people shared for a few short weeks out of the year never to happen again. Or its a lie you tell your friends about a time of adolescent fun you had with this "totally hot girl named Theresa, but she lives in Oregon and I don't have her number." There is something about a summer fling that is different than a relationship that can last through winter. For starters; these people do not have to have anything in common with one another. She loves horses and writes in her journal every night telling it all the things she would die if her friends found out about. He likes Rage Against the Machine and once ate a wool sock on a bet. But their parents rented houses on the same block the summer of 2003, and she let him get to second base one night on a jetti; because that's how a summer fling works.

There's no love. In fact, there's no love at all. Not in summer flings, not in fifty-year marriages; love does not exist. They've done studies. Plugging people's brains into machines trying to determine which lobe controls the love function in the brain. Hell, they don't even have a definition of what love is. Ask anyone that's used that term to describe it, what do they say? "Love is indescribable" I can't see love, I can't taste love... you can smell love, but that's something a good roommate will ignore when you're driving his ass to the train station the night after you had a date.

Love is something that science cannot prove its existence in the universe. But you know what they can prove exists? Big f**king rocks. Hell, they don't even need all those equations, I can see the rock. Its right there! That rock is REAL. You can metaphorically be "struck by Cupid's Arrow" but I can literally "throw a big f**king rock at you."

The End of College

2006-08-02T18:06:00.000-04:00

Graduating from college really opened my eyes to a lot of things. Walking up on stage and getting a diploma from a man who you have not had a full conversation with in four years time is not much of an accomplishment. I am sure if I paid any average Joe on the street $120,000 to stand up on stage wearing a silly robe and give me a xeroxed piece of paper with my name on it many men would stand up to the call. But I sat through the graduation speeches and heard my mom screaming from the crowd as I strolled across the stage and shook hands with some guy making more money than I will ever manage to scrape up for a degree I won't use. I know not everybody graduates from college but a lot of people in this day and age do, and it is starting to lose its prestige. Its enjoying a band before they hit it big, and then afterwards realizing their nothing too great. The Nickelback Special as I like to call it.

I am not saying I didn't learn anything in college. I became a pretty good bartender at school. And as the years went by I got better and better at slight of hand because all the girls started to ask questions like "What did you just put in my drink?" and "Why is there a large bottle of GHB next to the cherries?" And as the time passes in the real world I am starting to realize my professors were right in saying the skills I learn at college will help me in the real world. Just yesterday I was walking down the street when a crazy man wearing nothing but a trench coat brandishing a box cutter asked me; "What does The Block World Theory institute about the construction of the universe?!" Well its a good thing I attended a lecture last semester on a book written by Stephen Hawking because after 20 minutes of debating the practicality of the String Thoery with this man, he let him guard down to reiterate a point and I hit him with a trash can lid.

College has become what highschool was 25 years ago. It is the myth of what the minimal basis for being successful and has gotten easier. I graduated a few points shy of Cum Laude and never read a full book. Hell, I had a class my senior year whose final was 35 multible choice questions and no essay. At the time I was not going to complain but looking back I can get more information from an article in Rolling Stone than I can get sitting around listening to a professor for 16 hours a week. There is more useful information about global politics in an Audioslave song than there is in the classroom.

Ok, so maybe college now just is not supposed to be the intellectual boiling pot of ideas to achieve a higher understanding of a specific area of study. I think the sooner colleges accept this to be true the sooner they can start charging even more than they charge now. Think about it; when you were applying to colleges every brochure looked the same. Beautiful shots of the campus, people in labcoats pouring liquids into basins, two black guys and an Asian kid studying under a tree; its the template for every one of them. Now what if a college had the brass to put out some media on what college was really about. Pictures of eight people shoved into a Cavalier in line at the drive-thru of Taco Bell at one in the morning, pictures of the latest Whores and Smores party, a drunken note written from one roommate to another about where he went that night that just kind of trails off at the end about Yoda and Twinkees. If colleges were to take one person's Facebook photos and mail them out to prospective students their attendance would triple.

College is over. This is the new Acts of Randomness.