Monday, July 13, 2009

It Sucks Being Us

My girlfriend's friend has what I would consider "a cool job." A job that when you have the mundane "What do you do for a living?" small talk with her, you actually pause and say: "Wow..really? That's cool!!" Don't believe me?

She works with dolphins for a living. Fucking dolphins! Cute, cuddly, intelligent dolphins. Nothing to complain about there.

You know what sucks about being matter how good we have it, no matter how cool our lives might be....we'll find fault. This dolphin job, like all jobs, has its good days and bad days. Sometimes the dolphins bite. Sometimes the dolphins splash. Sometimes they rape sea turtles. It's a vicious cycle.

How sad is this? If even working with dolphins can suck...there really is no hope of ever truly being happy...ever.

Let's review what could be wrong with some of the world's greatest jobs:

Job #1 -- Megan Fox's Underwear Selector:

She always wants me to pick something out 10 minutes before I'm have to leave. If she knows she needs underwear, can't she tell me at 3 and not 4:50?

Job #2 -- Blow Job Receiver:

Stupid Nancy never finishes on time...

Job #3 -- Space/Time Traveler:

God...I'm so sick of finding life on new planets. It's always the same damn thing. fear our superior intellect. I'm going to cure some disease for you...then you're going to build me a statue...every time...the same thing.

Job #4 -- NBA Superstar:

$10 million? $10 million? I could leave here tomorrow and they would be fucked. They don't even know how to use the copy machine...and they want me to play for $10 million. Why does Stan get $12 million a year...he doesn't do shit.

Job #5 -- Fresh Baked (Nut Free) Chocolate Chip Cookie Taster:

My boss is such an ass. He yelled at me because I only tasted ten cookies this hour...and he wants me to do fifteen. God, if I had his job, I would totally let everyone eat ten cookies/hour....WITH milk.

We are all doomed. All of us. We'll never be happy

Photo Caption Contest

Below is my latest Facebook picture. Whoever comes up with the best caption (as voted on by me...and maybe my dog), wins...wait for it...wait for it...

His/Her caption being used on my Facebook page. And maybe I'll buy you a coffee or something.

Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Blogging: A Defense

I saw a pic on one of my "friend's" Facebook pages that said, and I quote:

Blogging: Never before have so many people with so little to say said so much to so few.

Now...that's funny, but you know when you start laughing at something, then you start thinking about it...and the laugh turns to a a laugh-pause-laugh-pause...until you finally think "Shit. That kind of is true. About me."

Don't worry. I "defriended" her instantly.

But this did get me thinking. Why do I blog? Should I blog? You know what? I think I was born to blog.

In what other forum could I let people know that a little girl pooped on my leg while her non-English speaking grandmother laughed at me?

How could I go on living without people knowing that I was raped during my colonic?

And that 90% of my massages end with some kind of inappropriate fondling?

The public needs, no, deserves to know that my dog has a drug problem and likes to ooze things from her ass onto me.

What kind of person would I be if someone in Romania didn't know that a beetle attacked my testicles?

Could you really be complete without knowing that I had a man do a 360 so I could check out his outfit in the men's room...or that I am in love with my male swim coach?

How would you know that I have a vendetta against some poor guy with the same name as me because he gets more google hits?

And don't get even me started on Eva Longoria!

Would it matter if I stopped blogging? Probably not. Do I have little to say to few? Perhaps. But you know the old adage...if my dog leaks anal fluid onto my leg, and no one is around to read about, did she really ever ooze?

Oh she did...and so here we are.

Monday, July 06, 2009

A Career Change

So I have decided that I am just going to do it. I am changing my profession. From this point on, when somebody asks So..what do you do? I am no longer going to say "I'm a teacher." Instead...I am going to say "I'm a writer." Here's three reasons why:

(1) The Farrelly Brothers

The first reason I am doing this is because of one of my life mantras that I picked up from Dumb and Dumber, clearly, a deeply philosophical movie. While discussing the rules of a game of tag, Harry (Jeff Daniels) and Lloyd (Jim Carrey) have the following conversation:

Lloyd: [nudges Harry] You're it.
Harry: [nudges Lloyd] You're it.
Lloyd: [nudges Harry] You're it, quitsies!
Harry: Anti-quitsies. [nudges Lloyd] You're it! Quitsies, no anti-quitsies, no startsies!
Lloyd: You can't do that!
Harry: Can too!
Lloyd: Cannot, stamped it!
Harry: Can too, double stamped it, no erasies!
Lloyd: Cannot, triple stamped it, no erasies, touch blue make it true. [puts his hands over his ears and sings]
Harry: No! No! You can't triple stamp a double stamp! You can't triple stamp a double stamp, Lloyd! You can't triple stamp a double stamp! LLOYD! LLOYD! You c--

What we learn here is that while this argument SEEMS childish and absurd, Lloyd is actually taking a powerful stand for what he believes in. He goes so far as to decree to his interlocutor "[You]Cannot, triple stamped it, no erasies, touch blue make it true. [puts his hands over his ears and sings]"

In sum, I don't care what you say. You have your truth. This is MY truth. I will not, in fact, cannot listen to your disagreement any longer.

I have touched blue, people. There is no going back now.

(2) I Don't Need to Show You the Money, Jerry.

I have asked and re-asked many, many people about this possible "change in employment" for the past week or so, and you know what? Congrats! Most responded as a good American should. They wanted me to show them the money. Or, more specifically, they asked:

What have you published?

Although the answer to that is a big, whopping nothing, that does not mean that writing cannot be my profession. One person in particular noted "It wasn't like Vincent Van Gogh made money while he was alive...but he was clearly an artist." And while I'm not 100% happy about being compared to a nut job, the sentiment is definitely there.

The difference in me now compared to let's say, a week ago when I started thinking about this "career change" is that I had only tried to publish one time in my life before last week. And you know why I previously tried? I was taking a creative writing class in college, and the "final" was to try and publish something.

So my nothing has been a very special nothing because I never tried. But I'm trying now...and money or not, that makes me a writer.

(3) Heart of Darkness

Like all people, I'm probably not 100% sane, but that's ok, right? What is sanity, anyway? Maybe it is pretending to be something you're not for the sake of others. I'm a writer because I'm looking for something. I haven't found it...yet.

I'm not a "literary quote" kind of guy, but this about sums it up:

I don't like work--no man does--but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself. Your own reality--for yourself not for others--what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means. -- Joseph Conrad.

I guess I just couldn't say it any more clearly than that.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009


If you're like me (and I know that you are), you probably suffer from a case of Netflixism from time-to-time. You like the idea of having movies shipped to your house...and you're good at watching them weeks at a time, but there is always that lull. Maybe you get too busy. Or maybe, just maybe, you got a little too adventurous in what you chose to have delivered to your home.

The red envelope starts to haunt you. You don't want to watch anything on, by, or related to whatever unfortunately lies within it. I know. I know. You even recheck the envelope once in awhile to see if the movie living inside its red prison happened to change. Nope, still When Harry Met Sally. Shit.

Yes. I understand. It seemed like a good idea to put (fill in the title of that movie you have always wanted to see here) in your queueueueue three months ago, but then it arrived, didn't it?

Oh...Citizen Kane...yeah...I'll watch that next weekend.

The problem is, next weekend becomes two weeks, next month. Before you know it, that little red envelope, which is supposedly so full of guilt-free membership, becomes a fucking Albatross. Stupid Netflix with their stupid no late fees.

So, Netflixism -- the act of letting a movie sit on your coffee table for months on end, but you are too stubborn to return it without watching it first. Also see "idiot" and "we todd did."


My most recent bout with Nexflixism was with the movie Hancock. I think that movie moved from my coffee table to my kitchen counter 15.5 times. The .5 is for when I threw it on the floor and did a jig on top of it. (By the way, I don't know if you have ever looked up the word jig, but I just did because I was curious about what it would say...and man, I am glad I did: a rapid, lively, springy, irregular dance for one or more persons, usually in triple meter. Who knew?)

Anyway, this movie sucked...and it was the worst kind of sucking imaginable. used teeth. Also, it didn't suck from beginning to the end. I have mentioned this before with movies...but I can appreciate (and sometimes enjoy) movies that just let you know they are going to suck from the first scene. Take any movie with Jessica Simpson in it for example. Right away, you know it isn't going to be be deep or meaningful. She is pretty much happy when she is in a movie that isn't released directly to DVD. Point being, you don't get invested in it. You just sit back, relax, put your hands behind your head, and let the suckfest begin!

But Hancock...oh no...Hancock didn't do this. Hancock decided it was going to be pretty good for about one hour. I was sitting there actually presently surprised...wondering why the movie got shit-canned by critics, and why I hadn't seen it yet. But like a lot of other Hollywoody type movies...they realize that the average American probably has about 1.5 hours of attention once they hit that one-hour mark...they fall into the dreaded how-are-we-going-to-wrap-this-up-neatly-in-the-next-twenty-to-thirty-minutes game. I hate this. I absolutely hate this with a passion.

I think this is akin to a girl getting you all riled up, pants off, condom on...and then saying she's got to go because her husband is coming home. should have told me you had a husband in the first place, and I wouldn't even be here right now...I would be home watching Jessica Simpson's Private Valentine instead!


So after Hancock ended tonight, I was initially mad at myself. Why did I waste my time? Why did I watch this crap?

But you know really isn't me who is to blame. It is my Netflixism...and my hope that just of these Hollywoody movies will finish what it starts. No husband. Full penetration. There really is no better way to summarize a good flick.

Alas, this may be impossible to find. So, I'm just going to go watch Embrace the Vampire again. Alyssa Milano sucks...but she sucks so good.