Archive for December, 2012

I suppose this is my obligatory New Year’s Resolution post. After all, a new year is approaching and it would seem silly not to at least set a few goals. This year though will be different from past years. 2013 for me has to be an important year for me. If it’s not…fuck.

In January 2011 I decided that if in two years I still was interested I would move to Los Angeles to further pursue my desire to have a career as a television/film writer. I could have simply said screenwriter but technically writing for a PowerPoint means you’re writing for a screen so I refuse to use that word. Through 2011 and 2012 it was all I could think about. It seemed so perfectly scripted for my life to head in that direction. I worked hard at writing as much as I could during this span of time. I’m not proud of much I’ve done with my life, but the amount I produced and the quality I believe I consistently achieve at this point is something I wish I could brag about and have someone understand how far I have come.

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(This was not one of those clever ideas I had this year)

Life doesn’t always work out the way we want it. I got as far as filling out an application for an apartment I visited while out in Los Angeles in October. The stress and fear of moving across the country began to hit me not much after. As fantastic as it would be to drive off into the sunset with a big fat middle finger sticking out the car window it was not realistic. I have no valuable skills to offer at a job. Worse, I have no credentials that would get me much further than where I am now with my desired career.

Instead I opted to move to New York City which is much closer and still can offer me what I want, at least for now. New York City is complicated so I settled for North Jersey, close enough where I can actually see the skyscrapers in Manhattan. I actually have to walk down a couple blocks to see the view, but it’s there and I’ll probably never bother unless I have absolutely nothing else to do.

The hardest thing about it all is I am still getting rid of nearly everything in my life. I just have less of a distance to drive and also won’t have to pay $5 for a gallon of California gas. In fact, I won’t need a car at all anymore. After spending the last 3 years driving an hour to work it’s almost arousing to know in the coming days I will have gotten stuck in my last traffic jam for a while.

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(I’m not going to miss looking at another person’s bumper. I should really get my blood pressure checked now and then again after a month without driving just to see how much of an early grave it has sent me to already)

Growing up I was always told two things when it came to happiness. The first was bite your tongue, life sucks now shut up and play goalie fatso. The second was if you’re not happy you should fix it. Well, I spent 25 years doing the first. When something bothered me I remembered how much worse things could be. Yes there’s a hole in our bathroom floor but at least we have a bathroom. No matter how much things bothered me, no matter how miserable I would get at times, I never really did much about it other than hope someone would cross my path and save me. I feel like a woman writing that last sentence but I think it’s true for men and women. It’s easier to have someone else do all the work when really you’ve got to always do it yourself.

I’ve quit my job I have had since I was 17 which may have been the most consistent thing in my life. I had no problem quitting because it never brought me joy and it never let me do anything close to what I wanted to with my life. It became clear to me long ago that working there my entire life could be possible. I could have continued working there and driving an hour back and forth. I could have continued coming home to my apartment each night to no prospect that something incredible might happen. Nobody was going to show up at my door. Nobody was going to rescue me from complacency. As scary as it is and as scared as I still am, getting comfortable in a routine of loneliness is not healthy and eventually it will catch up to you.

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(Typical Jeff Goldblum. Always running away from the problem without a real solution in mind. That ain’t me)

So what are my expectations for 2013? I’m starting the year off living in a new town, no job, and knowing exactly what I want out of life without too much of an idea on where to start or how to get it. My simple expectation for 2013 is to do whatever it takes. I want to get involved in whatever I can with whoever I can. I’ve spent my life surrounded by apathetic people who mean well but don’t offer me what I need. I used to have people I wanted to be. Now over the last few years it becomes clearer how the time for me to try to become the hero is here. I’m probably not going to rescue anyone from anything life threatening but I certainly hope I can at least lead by example and inspire others to do something amazing with their lives.

Most importantly I’m making these changes because I want more than I have. My current lifestyle is not something that could one day support a family or really get everything out of life a person should experience. A person shouldn’t have to give up so young, which I try telling everyone my age who seem to do it with ease. One day I want to be able to afford to go out to fancy restaurants maybe with a wife and kids. I want to be able to own a home where I worry about it being built on an Indian Burial Ground. In my life I want to be able to go on vacations and love my job so much that I spoil the fun for whoever I’m with. The direction my life was headed, I could somewhat attain these things. And it’s about more than money of course. It’s about feeling valued and most of all, valuing myself. There are not many things I need or want in life. One of them is to actually enjoy waking up with who I am and what I do.

In 2013 I expect to a year from now be so exhausted from all the hard work and good times I’ve had that I write something short enough you actually read entirely through. Let’s kick some ass and take some names in 2013.

I wrote this piece like two months ago and have been waiting for the right time to post it. It’s a little long but I don’t plan on posting anything new for a few days so feel free to nurse it. This is basically the shortest autobiography ever written.

I believe in reincarnation. Not some stupid traditional cockamamie thing about good people coming back as butterflies and bad people coming back a Kim Kardashian fan. I think in our own lives we can live multiple lives. Not like secret cell phone hidden in the ceiling or having a bizarro family like we insisted my dad used to have. How does someone work from 7 in the morning until midnight without having another family on the side? His children (Jim, Karen, and Reason) must have gotten such great presents because the children I grew up with (Tim, Erin, and Season) usually had to settle for whatever was on sale at the Dollar Store.

I think each life we live can be divided into chapters. Like a book or a DVD (for those of you illiterates) our lives have chapters too. It’s very easy for me to divide my life thus far into different chapters. Maybe you can too.

Chapter 1: October 9, 1987-September 17, 2000

This was the longest time period of chapters mostly because I don’t remember much of the 80s. I remember someone telling me not to catch the “gay flu” and as a baby I would take large poops into my diaper then in a Ronald Reagan impression say “Mommy, tear off this diaper!” If you’re good at math you can see this chapter goes practically up until I became a teenager. It wasn’t a bad chapter. It was full of innocence and curiosity. I was unaware of my surroundings and I had not until recently known that something called a blow job existed. I had no clue why anyone would ever want one, but I was also 12 and was pretty sure you could get someone pregnant just by staring at them long enough. The big events or activities during this time period I think about are going to school, playing little league baseball, and having lots of hope for the future.

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(I chose to have hope for the future. Hope Solo has to live with Hope because you can never escape yourself)

Chapter 2: September 18, 2000-July 31, 2004

If my life was completely a book this would be the chapter when shit hits the fan. My parents got into their legendary fight that included vacuum cleaner throwing to start this chapter. It also happened to be my dad’s birthday and the pizza he got went uneaten and turned cold. I started school the very next day and the new black kid in school used me as the example of how fat he used to be before he got his life together. Things quickly spiraled downward. This time period included grades 7-10 for me. I continued getting fatter and with getting fatter you got a lot more depressed about uneaten pizza. My dad no longer lived with us by the end of this chapter and I was the man of the house by process of elimination. The big events or activities during this period I think about are going to school, losing my interest yet still continuing to play little league baseball, and losing all hope for the future.

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(Were they really lost or was it more that they were stranded? Even if they knew their location it wouldn’t have done them any good. Purgatory)

Chapter 3: August 1, 2004-August 30, 2007

This chapter was all about fluctuating weight. On August 1, 2004 I began my journey to stop crying over uneaten pizza. I got terrific results and with a slimmer body means people take you more seriously. I could talk to girls now which was a completely change from Chapter 2. I also started driving during this chapter. I had a newfound confidence about who I was. Slowly I began to put weight back on though because people actually learned to like me for who I was and not what I looked like. I graduated from high school then went to community college. On the first night of my sophomore year my class went out to eat at Applebee’s. I ordered a platter of appetizers. I looked down at it and wondered where my future was headed. I was going backwards. It was time for a new chapter in my life. The big events or activities during this period I think about are getting suspended from school, coming to terms with the idea I would never become a professional athlete, and realizing hope is just a word lazy people use to justify laziness.

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(I felt a lot like Oprah during this chapter what with my fluctuating weight and all. The only difference is she has millions of people willing to listen to her. I can’t even get a dog to “come here” when I offer him a treat)

Chapter 4: September 1, 2007-December 31, 2008

This would be a very short chapter. It was also probably the second worst. I began starving myself to knock off some weight, around 70 pounds by the time all was said and done. I finished up with school and my parents were ready to sell our house. Toward the end of the chapter I spent almost every day when I wasn’t working or in class in search of something greater which I could never find. The only thing I think about this time period is eating a salmon sandwich and how everyone I was friends with stopped talking to me for completely different reasons. I know it’s kind of late to say it but I really miss that salmon sandwich.

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(In the afterlife my friend. It is there we will reunite)

Chapter 5: January 1, 2009-December 28, 2009

I had already started working at a comedy club in New York City at the end of 2008 but it wasn’t until 2009 that I felt like I belonged. It was a great experience in a thousand different ways. This year was the closest I ever have gotten to being a rockstar. One girl literally asked me if I was a rockstar. Then I gave her my phone number and I never heard from her again. Black bitch. It’s not racist that I’m calling her black; remember I gave her my phone number. I was willing. I was also living in a new apartment with my sister which I absolutely hated. The apartment was fine but the lifestyle I had stunk. By the end I had a girlfriend I actually cared about and the most exciting year of my life I ever had. There were a lot of depressing days and donut binge eating adventures, but it was great overall. There are way too memories from this year to list. My favorite, being a god damned rockstar.

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(Rockstars rule because even at this age Mick Jagger could steal any woman of any age of any status away from me)

Chapter 6: December 29, 2009-December 31, 2012

At the beginning of this chapter I move out completely on my own. I’m 50 miles from where I grew up and scared as shit. I managed though. Things were terribly depressing and lonely at first because the only person I had anywhere near me was the girl I had been dating. This is the chapter where I become a man. I didn’t slay any lions or remember some Hebrew, I became completely independent and void of anything. I’d like to say I became a more caring person but that might be a lie. I’m a more confident person and I don’t flinch when people call me sir. I’ve come to terms with who I am and all I have to offer the world. The biggest thing I have now that I didn’t in other chapters is drive. I had too much hope early on. Now I’m running on want. I don’t hope to have a good life with lots of success, I want it. Again, to sum up this chapter would take forever. I had a lot more good memories than I did bad ones. I’m a tougher person more human person because of everything that happened here.

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(This picture may have happened during this chapter but it is not an accurate representation of everything)

Chapter 7: December 1, 2012-?

This chapter has yet to be written. The best way to ensure a new chapter starts is by moving and that’s exactly what I am doing. If I may make a prediction I see myself marrying Malin Akerman within the year, earning the right to have complete control over Hollywood after defeating every executive ever in an arm-wrestling tournament, and most likely I am voted Time Magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive. All of this happens after I defeated the aliens on the Mayan Apocalypse but you’d have to be an idiot not to see that one coming.

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(I wish I got to play Fake Batman in this movie. Or at least the knocked out prisoner behind them. He looks like he has a great view)

It’s important to have your life full of chapters. Would you want to read a book without them? If you can’t divide your life into chapters then maybe you’re stuck in a rut. You may need a change of scenario, people in your life, or something else. Consistency is great but you also don’t want your life to be the same forever. My epilogue would say how important it is to evolve. Your death-bed should be surrounded by amazing people from all walks of life who never met. Live life to the fullest. Nobody wants to be around some bore who settled too soon.

Thanks to Art of Pouring My Art Out I have downloaded a free easy to use program where I can create and edit videos. I knew it would be free and easy because the guy who told me about it, Art, is also free and easy.

Here is the first video I made.

I also want to take this opportunity to wish you all a wonderful Christmas or whatever it is you celebrate. I celebrate Christmas so that’s the one I wish well on others first because that’s the way things work. Either way, have a nice rest of the year.

P.S. My next two posts will be a bit more informative and less scatological. In fact they may be the last two posts I ever do…until I get around to doing another one. Enjoy the holiday season.

P.P.S. I had originally had this scheduled to post on Christmas Eve. I was away from a computer and thanks to Twin Daddy I learned the crappy video did not work. Even worse, I don’t feel like going back and making this sound more timely. Christmas is over and I hope yours was grand.

They’re always the ideal, picturesque, most perfect women we ever see; the supportive girlfriend. So many films and television shows have this woman in them. I honestly can’t think of a single example other than Sloane from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I know there are more out there though. They’re the girls who are there when their men need them. They’re the girls who are a man’s rock and remind them to never give up or else they’ll end up like their imprisoned father. Supportive girlfriends are great and we can all agree. Something we may not agree on is sometimes supportive girlfriends can go too far.

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(Is there a more perfect girl in the world? All a guy wants is for a girl to cut class with him. Everything else is extra)

I only have the male perspective on any gender issues because I was only a woman for one year of my life. It was a crazy year and involved a lot of undercover police work. It’s better I not get into it. I believe though that men are either 100% supportive of their women or 100% out there to belittle and convince them to give up on their dreams. Men really are extreme creatures. We either want to be the best or not bother trying. Second place is the first loser. Even knowing how barbarically dumb this logic is, I go by it often too. But I’m not supposed to talk about how lazy so many men are and why they all get so fat when a little effort could really improve their chances of not dying young or alone. I’m supposed to talk about girlfriends supporting their men.

I’ve found in any relationship whether dating or simply friendship that it’s important to me for whomever I keep around to be supportive. Unfortunately that’s not always the case. We don’t get to pick everyone we encounter on a daily basis. If we did I’d make my mailman Malin Akerman. I’d still probably hide from her whenever she dropped off my Super Coups. I always hide from the mailman. Anything to avoid socializing. Supporting those I care about has become the single most important thing in my life. It’s something I felt I never really got much. And there’s a big difference between someone saying “Go ahead, do whatever you want” and “Go ahead, ask me if you need anything.”

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(If Malin Akerman became my mailman I would never sent an email ever again and this blog would no longer be online. I would mail everything out to you guys and you’d have to return your comments to me. I’d make sure I had to sign for every package just to be around her a little longer. I’ve thought this out too long)

The supportive girlfriend is important for a man because let’s face it, girlfriends are nags. They’re always saying things like “I’m hungry” or “Don’t hit me.” When a girlfriend isn’t supportive she becomes an annoying wife except you have no legal attachment. The only reason you don’t leave this terrible girlfriend is because you’ve already spent so much money on her and you’d hate for it to be for nothing. Plus, she has blackmail photos of you from that year you were a woman. You don’t want those getting out if you want a future in anything other than winning a Ru Paul sponsored contest.

I think a supportive girlfriend crosses the line when she allows her boyfriend to be an idiotic waste of space. Let me explain. Love is conditional. If you love someone you should support them no matter what they do. You should also love someone if they tell you you’re not as good at something as you think you are. You can hate them for telling you that and you probably should, but more often than not they’re telling you to protect you. Notice how this made-up girlfriend said this made-up boyfriend is not as good as he thinks he is. She didn’t tell him to give up. She told him he needs to get better. He needs to put forth a larger effort.

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(This stock photo says it all. Don’t humor a guy and tell him it’s great he has a high score. Tell him to use his hand eye coordination for something better like having a job)

Supporting someone has one key element that goes overlooked, honesty. Often times we don’t tell people we support or care about how crummy their idea was because we don’t want to hurt them. Here’s my proposition, tell those people their ideas suck, but add in how you think it could be improved. Say for instance you spot an ugly girl walking down the street Running up to her and saying how ugly she is can come off as extremely mean. Running up to her and telling her to lose weight, get contact lenses, get a new hairstyle, change her fashion sense, and clean the rat feces off her eyelids is much more constructive. You’re also supporting this random bitch by helping her improve. Okay this was a bad example, but you’re smart enough to get the point.

How can you be a supportive girlfriend? Don’t be a girlfriend, be a partner. The best way to ever support someone is to get involved. As much as guys pretend we like cheerleaders we really don’t. They’re annoying. Pep is fine in small doses but Christ, tone it down. The team isn’t even good. Don’t be one of those lame girlfriends who sit back and lets her guy just do whatever he wants and watch on from afar. Men are weak. Ladies, we need you to not only be our biggest fans; we need you to help us achieve the greatness you think we have.

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(I’ve got a good feeling about this couple)

Of course if you’re dating a complete loser then you wasted your time reading this. As far as blog “pieces” go where my motivation was passive aggressive comments toward people I’ve never even met, this one was pretty long.

I’ve always had a fascination with the End of the World. In 2008 I saw an advertisement on a bus for a special on Nostradamus and dropped everything I had going on in life to watch the 5-hour spectacular. Unlike most things referred to as spectaculars, this one had no glitter or dancing which was a tad disappointing. No musical numbers means no toe tapping and no toe tapping means less fun.

To harp onto tomorrow’s impending doom (I’m not referring to how I intend on moving a mattress up 3 flights of stairs) I have decided to give a short rerun on things I have written about on the Apocalypse. Well, two things really and you’ll probably not read either so just great. Possibly the last post I ever do on this blog will have been for nothing. Oh well, it may have been nice knowing you but probably not because when has someone ever been right on predicting something so far in advance?

I present to you an old blog post I did called Mayans as well as an old spec script I wrote what was now almost 2 years ago based on the show Community. Enjoy them both or most likely neither.

Mayans

End of the World Survival Skills and Party Planning

I come from a long line of people with super powers. My great-grandmother had the ability to read minds, my grandfather had the ability to levitate, and my uncle can make young girls disappear. Somewhere out there there’s a swamp filled with missing children. Seriously, he should be locked up. My super power is the ability to spot an idiot right away. Chances are you’re an idiot because almost everyone is. My hope with this piece I have written is to let you know how to spot an idiot where you spend your most time, on Facebook.

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(Does anyone remember when Facebook was cool? If you said yes then you’re lying. It’s impossible to remember never)

Here are the things I have noticed while perusing Facebook that scream idiotic. Don’t think just because you’ve done a few of these things I think you’re an idiot. Oh no child, you’re reading this so if confronted I will pretend I don’t think you’re stupid. For the record, I probably already hate you so calling you an idiot really isn’t too big of a deal.

-Posting Song Lyrics: This isn’t completely idiotic but it tells me you can’t write your own poetry. You’re also saying “Hey I like this band, let me see if anyone else likes this band too.” Then an even bigger idiot likes your status and you two can bond over your love of some shitty band.

-Posting Drama: If I know you have a dramatic life based on your Facebook statuses you are an idiot. I should not know things about your life. Facebook isn’t the place to know about baby’s mama drama. Facebook is a place where we can quickly look through our friend’s pictures and send the embarrassing ones to people we actually like. Yes, I do this all the time.

-Posting Sad Faces or Anything Else Depressing: I knew a guy who would do this all the time. He’s dead now. He took the Socrates way out, suicide. After all the depressing statuses he made on Facebook nothing could ever save him. How about you stop staring at a computer screen and maybe do something nice for someone else to make yourself feel better? Don’t post a frowny face. Most of them just look like a man with a handle-bar mustache anyway.

-Asking People to Hangout: Really? Normally when I want to hangout I’ll ask the people I want to hangout with over the phone or in a private message. The best is when no one replies and it can be assumed the idiot sat at home watching new iCarly episodes. I shouldn’t know you’re pathetic. I should have some fantasy about your awesome life. It gives me hope. Knowing you’re a loser means I make fun of you behind your back.

-Asking for Favors: The only one I’m guilty of is this one. I’ll ask for favors because I don’t have a real connection with too many people and I like to put it out there in the open to see if maybe someone I know has a hidden talent that can help me. I’m still an idiot for doing it. This is far different from the favors I ask for on Craigslist. Those always involve backrubs from college girls. Craigslist is great. I can tell women I’m rich and athletic.

-Liking Too Much: Never and I mean never like your status, comment on the status, and then like your comment. It tells the world nobody gives a shit about you and neither should they. This might possibly be the most pathetic thing ever. This comes from a guy who took his mom’s best friend to prom. I’m kidding. I was my mom’s real best friend.

-Memes: The most offensive form of comedy after the ironic terrorist attack is the meme. Sure, the occasional meme is uproariously funny. For the most part though it’s idiot humor. People who overly enjoy memes are the same people who won’t read a book without pictures or won’t date a girl because she poops. The only memes I have ever posted were ones I made up myself, one being a fake one that I wanted to see gain some leverage. It never did but a few people liked it which means people will believe anything they read in a meme.

What idiotic things do you see on Facebook all the time? Don’t mention typos. Anyone who makes an obviously bad typo in a Facebook status, especially when it’s supposed to come off as funny or smart, should have their typing hands broken and their favorite pet kicked.

One thing I can never get over is how in every teen movie there is a legendary high school party that takes place. I don’t know about you guys, but my high school days were not filled with parties. One time three of us got together and went to Applebee’s and shared appetizers. That’s the closest I ever got to living a Project X life. But a funny thing happened to me after graduating. I was 20 years old when I was finally invited to an awesome high school party. Today I share with some of those details.

I was invited to this party because I was friends with a loser who happened to have a popular younger brother. The younger brother looked like Zac Efron and Charlie St. Cloud had not come out yet so Zac was still cool. The mother of the house was on vacation and the father was dead. If they didn’t at least try to throw a party it would have been a crime.

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(Why does Zac Efron look like a blind person in this picture?)

I was lucky enough to be one of only 6 people my friend invited. He would have invited more, but he was my friend so he wasn’t very cool. Two of the six people he invited were girlfriends or wives of his friends. I felt a little old going to this party until a married father showed up. Suddenly my boyish good-looks shined through and I had no fear of creeping anyone out too much.

I arrived at the party looking as incredibly badass as possible. I had on a killer jacket, a spiked up colorful white Mohawk, and a smile that could make you shit. Instantly as I walked into the house I became the center of attention, probably because I had a ridiculous hairstyle. I actually went pretty unnoticed despite my appearance. I was the second oldest person at the party which made me second in charge if we’re going to do things the Mayan way. The oldest person there was a fat Korean kid. This party was left in the balance of North Korean Dictator Kim Jong Fat or whatever his name is.

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(Good thing Chin is a Chinese last name and not a Korean one. Otherwise this poor brat would have been teased a lot for having so many)

The party was cool, I guess. The house wasn’t very big but I would say there were around 150 people in there. The basement was filled with underage kids drinking and playing beer pong. I walked down there for a moment, nodded at a kid I recognized, and then went back upstairs to hang with people I actually knew. I don’t remember drinking much if at all. In fact, I don’t remember a single thing I really did other than turned to people and said “Cool party, huh?” And it was a cool party because things were crowded.

Someone said something about how there was a lack of music playing at the party. My crowning achievement of the night was going over to the computer and putting up a graduation speech video at full volume. High school graduation speeches are simply the most repulsive usage of human language. Nobody much appreciated my joke except for the one kid at the party who I’ve seen practically have sex with his sister. I say practically because they were still wearing pants.

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(Sure he finished first in his class but at what cost? His face and never having a conversation with a girl. That was the cost)

Trouble struck when some cool kids who weren’t invited showed up outside. Some 15 year old boys went outside to try to scare them off. This was a party thrown by mostly high school sophomores after-all so the 15 year olds knew more people than anyone. The cool kids who weren’t invited threatened to call the cops and that’s when the shit hit the fan. The party had to end. It had only lasted maybe an hour or two and a hallowed threat caused it all to come crashing down.

The fat Korean kid started to boss everyone around and tell them to leave. The issue with this is 75% of the kids there couldn’t drive yet and the other 25% were pretty drunk. At this point nobody cared. The school was looking for a crashed car to in front of the school as an ominous warning and we thought maybe we could do a good deed and provide them with one.

A few party-goers still would not leave. The mean cool kids came back and were having an argument outside. A pretty girl with really big breasts was looking out the window confused as to what was happening. I told her someone got stabbed with a harpoon and was dying on the lawn. Her response was a simple “Oh no!” If she had any sense she would have said “Who the fuck carries around a harpoon and where do you get one?” Of all the existing stereotypes, pretty high school girls with big breasts are always incredibly dumb.

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(Only a girl from my high school would think her classmates would not only own this but carry it around and use it on others)

The Korean kid was trying to get the cool kids to leave. I found a random knife lying on the television and suggested he take it out there and scare them. He knocked some sense into me saying it was dumb to do because that could be seen as a threat. Not to mention, the knife had cake on it. Instead the Korean kid used a baseball bat to scare them off. If you’ve ever watched the Little League World Series you would know the Koreans are pretty good offensively.

Finally everything cleared out. We cleaned up a little bit and talked about how cool it was to have to break up a party and ruin people’s party night. The rest of the night was spent talking about our lives and how we could improve ourselves which seems to me the way every night with friends always ends. Just once I want to hang out with a friend and things not get to the point where I’m lying and saying how great they are.

Tell me about the coolest party you have ever been to. And yes, this was probably the coolest party I have ever been to. Unless you want to count the one where I tried adding some girl on Myspace afterwards and she denied me. That was a fun night until she totally ruined my life.

I decided this year I was going to play Santa Claus and get my neighbors special gifts. Some people say the perfect gift is something expensive. Others say it’s only the thought that counts. I believe a great gift is getting someone something they need and don’t even realize. Here is what I plan on getting my neighbors for Christmas.

-For the people above me who always yell and fight I plan to get them soundproof walls and a marriage counseling book. Actually, they’re not even married and they’re already fighting. Maybe instead I should get them a gun so they can settle things once and for all. I don’t need to wake up to the word “motherfucker” getting yelled on a Sunday. That word should be reserved for the PM hours.

-For the family next to me with three yippie dogs who never shut up I plan to get Michael Vick. Yes, the actual guy. He hasn’t done too well this season and if we’re lucky he will be desperate for a job next year. I don’t want Michael Vick to actually kill the dogs but his presence could maybe shut them up a bit. If Michael Vick isn’t available I’ll get the husband a workout DVD so he doesn’t have to step outside shirtless and subject me to his terrible body.

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(Is his last name really “Blanks” or is it something like “Fuckers” and they’re trying to censor it?)

-For the Canadian family living diagonally up from me I plan to get an ashtray. This ashtray is for them to then give to the people living above me so none of us have to live with a front yard covered in cigarette butts. Thank you Canadian family for never being a problem.

-For everyone living in my complex who doesn’t keep their dog on a leash I plan to get a leash. Not for their dogs, for them to hang themselves for being so inconsiderate.

-For the new family living on the corner who always toss their chicken wing bones onto the ground I plan to get the knowledge that boneless chicken wings exist. If they are too stupid which I think they might be then I will get them a larger garbage can so they don’t have to throw their garbage onto the lawn. Seriously, do they really think a squirrel can do anything with these bones? I’ve had to yank three out from my dog’s mouth and he accidentally bites me every time. I really want a bus to crash through their window.

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(This is all I want for Christmas. Maybe an explosion too)

-For the guy I saw folding his laundry while smoking I plan to get a nicotine patch. Dude, getting ashes all over your clean clothes defeats the purpose of washing.

-For the woman who once made a passive aggressive comment to me from her car about how her neighbors let their dogs piss and shit all over the place I plan to get a bag of my dog’s shit. How about if you see me not picking up the dog shit then you say something. I saw a black guy looting a stereo on the news. I don’t assume it’s your son you whore.

-For the only other younger white people I’ve seen living in my apartment complex I plan to get friendly smiles. Out of all the gangsters, the white trash, and the obnoxious ghetto women I seem to see on a daily basis these younger white folk seem to be the least friendly of any. What’s with white people and their stubbornness toward being friendly to strangers? White people crazy.

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(“They sho’ is.” – Katt ‘What Did I Do To Piss Off Comedy Central’ Williams)

What do you plan on getting your neighbors for Christmas, Kwanza, or whatever it is you celebrate?

This post, this one right here, is my 400th blog post. To celebrate I am not going to bother putting any effort into writing up something fantastic for once.

Your holiday gift from me is that you don’t have to read anything from me today. And yes, it’s a holiday gift. I have a loyal follower who celebrates Kwanza. What’s up Jamal? How are the Knicks doing this season? No. KFC is not open on Christmas you goof!

If you feel the need to give me a gift may I suggest clicking on one of the many links on my blogroll whether it belongs to me or someone else. I also have amazing things in my Writing Samples page at the top. Or you can see what’s happening at my other blog Kidz Showz. I won’t push anything today because the holiday spirit has entered me and it was consensual.

Enjoy your night off from my nonsense. You are welcome.

I thought about posting a pair of breasts and leaving things be, but men are much more complex than that. We also like football, beer, and fast cars. Nothing makes me feel more feminine than seeing the media’s portrayal of a man. I hate football, don’t drink beer, and every car I’ve ever owned can only go 0 to 60 in 60 minutes. Maybe I’m just more clockwork on the inside and I’m different from all those other guys out there. Yeah, I really don’t think so.

I was having an email conversation when my counterpart said “This sounds like a blog post.” She was right. Admittedly, sometimes I will get an idea in my head and work it out in a conversation before trying to write it all out for the public to see. This wasn’t exactly the case in this situation but I agreed with her, what I had to say deserved to be in a blog.

The basic conversation was her friend was insisting to her that she knew what a man wants. Keep in mind, this female who knows everything about men had her first kiss three months ago. Three months ago I made turkey burgers on the grill for the first time. Where’s my Turkey Burger restaurant? I’m an expert now, right?

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(Doesn’t this turkey burger image make you want to have a real burger instead?)

Summarizing this idiot’s ideology on what a man wants the best I can, she said a man wants her. All men want this girl. It’s fine to think people “want” you and all because it boosts your confidence and whatnot. I’ll insist to myself all women want me and if I was to turn them down they’d work really hard to get a job with an office atop a skyscraper just so they could jump out the window and kill themselves because I’m not theirs. I may take it a little far, but it helps me sleep at night when the sassy black ghost who lives in my closet won’t leave me alone.

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(I was actually going to try to mess around with this picture and make her more ghsot-like but I know you’re all smart enough to realize a ghost would never live in my closet. It’s way too messy)

For you, other idiot girls who think you have men figured out, I have created a list of things the average male desires in a woman. By average I mean me. I’m average enough, especially in appearance. But I do believe men want the same basic things from a woman. The problem is expressing these things to another person. I’m not perfect so I won’t tell you how to express these things. That’s your part. I can lead you to water but I can’t make you clean out your ass with it or however that Benjamin Franklin quote goes.

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(“A penny saved is a penny to throw at the Jews.” – Benjamin Adolph Franklin)

-Sweetness: If you’re sweet any guy no matter how hard he might seem will fall for you. I could never even entertain the idea of associating with a female who isn’t a complete sweetheart. Have some compassion and get a little upset when I make fun of a crippled person, but not too upset.

-A Little Adventurous: Movies always have these daring women who help to break men out from their shells. They’ll break into someone’s house or something and the man will be all leery saying it’s not a good idea. Breaking and entering is a little too adventurous. A little adventurous would be something like trying new foods or inviting your friends over to watch sex happen. Show a guy something new and he’ll want to learn more.

-Good Sense of Humor: Girls always say all they want is a guy with a good sense of humor and scientists have determined from this statement that women are liars. Women don’t want a funny guy. They want a funny guy who also has more qualities they seek. A good sense of humor in a woman is a major plus for all men. Guys want you to be their biggest fan. And don’t fake laughing or tell a guy he’s funny when he isn’t. It makes truly funny people like Andy Dick look bad.

-Slight Overdependence: Men like to know you can’t make it without them. We want to know we can easily make you cry. Make sure there are enough things you share where he can do it better than you can. Why do you think toilets were invented? Shitting in a hole is so much cleaner which is why I do it.

-Unaggressive: It’s a huge turn-off for most guys when a woman is overly aggressive. That’s not to say you can’t be at times. I love a woman who can take control of any situation, but of every situation it goes from aggressiveness to bossiness. Girls who say things like “I know what I want and I make sure I get it” should die. There’s only one voice that sentence can be said in and it’s in an incredibly bitchy voice. Instead of being aggressive try using reason. Don’t push people out of the way or whine to get your way, learn something called compromise. Maybe if you figure out what it means you won’t die alone.

Single female readers, you’re welcome.