Posts Tagged ‘friends’

Way too many advertisements pluck away at our insecurities. I think that’s the biggest reason why people hate themselves. We’re told we are supposed to have nice skin just because Jessica Biel does or whore is currently under contract with the “Splash some water on your face” acne cream commercials. I don’t think Jessica Biel works anymore. I think her career went downhill when someone finally saw one of her movies and was like “Hey, that’s not very good.”


(Watch out Jessica! The 1930s Dust Bowl is behind you! Grab your pants)

It’s a very sleazy way to advertise your product. Some are more subtle than others. Like Wendy’s always make it seem like you’re a loser if you don’t have friends to eat heart-attack food with. Most of the time I have meals with other people it has something to do with dying. Either it’s a funeral, an anniversary of a death, or someone in the corner is choking.


(How does a woman who behaves like this always have so many friends to grab a meal with? Oh right because she’s playful with her food and mimics oral sex with it. Being a woman is so easy!)

The worst ones are the advertisements that make sure believe we need surgery to be normal. What is normal anyway? George Bush was supposedly a C student. That’s average. So the average person is a millionaire oil tycoon who once owned the Texas Rangers. How does that make me feel? Not very good.

The real key I find as I grow older is to be insecure only for the sake of being aware. Insecurities are only a problem when they destroy your security with living an average, or as we have learned George Bush, life. Everyone has something gross on their bodies. Even more people have something gross on their face (usually their giant noses). Whatever you are insecure about let it be and don’t buy a facial cream, Subway sandwich, or gun to solve it.

Sasquatch, Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, Bigfoot, every tall overweight hipster trying to be ironic, Washington Nationals outfielder Jayson Werth, Pete Howorth, and a few other names are what the iconic missing link goes by. I’m not here to talk about him/them though. I’m going to post a few links from other blogs I think you should check out.

Kidz Showz Linkz

What’s been going on over at Kidz Showz?

1) I wrote a wonderful piece on the 2013 Nickelodeon Kid’s Choice Awards

2) Lily wrote up a wonderful piece on Pokemon

3) And we had our best guest post yet on Sid the Science Kid

We’re always open to letting others do guest posts, especially since I get lazier as the weather gets warmer and Lily actually goes out and does things.

Miami Carlins Fantasy Baseball Links

Most of what I write here would go over your heads since you don’t follow baseball. A few things I have written are actually purely humor and you don’t really need to know much about sports to appreciate them.

1) The Houston Astros baseball team this season might be one of the worst. I wrote something for CollegeHumor that they turned down because they hate me. It’s so funny my dad shared it on Facebook. He never does that.

2) One of my top players is apparently too fat for opening day. Read about my frustrations.

3) I also wrote a poem which no one will understand but it’s actually brilliant if you know anything about how the Miami Marlins were screwed over by their owner.

Other Stuff

1) Imagine how strange I felt when I went into my WordPress Reader and saw a gigantic picture of me on someone else’s blog. I was creeped out until I read further and saw it was a very genuine and honest review of my first attempt at writing something autobiographical. It’s nice to know people actually are pretending to have enjoyed it because I left a lot out like the good moments I had doing stand-up comedy or why I was such an uncomfortable person who felt the need to receive attention from strangers. Hopefully the next autobiographical thing I write answers a few of those questions. I also came up with a title for the book I asked for your help with so I have to start actually doing more with that now. But take my word for it. This one is more than twice as long as the stand-up book and it’s even more heartbreaking and funny. It’s one thing to get insulted by drunk strangers. I think it’s even funnier to get turned down and rejected by people you genuinely care about. At least funny when it happens to someone else.

2) It’s almost a month old, but during a series of posts he did, a certain blogger paid a tribute to me. And I don’t mean paid a tribute in some sacrificing another human being way. He just actually managed to write a few nice things about me for once.

3) For some reason I don’t think I ever posted this even though it’s been over a month. I think it was after the weekend where I didn’t do anything except lie in bed watching movies and TV shows. There’s a brief mention of me in there.

And after you check out any of the things I mentioned here you should go out check out the rest of their blogs. They’re all great and unique and different from one another.

Sasquatch Wild Man Of The Woods Elder Brother Bigfoot Yeti

At some point in the beginning of January Janice at Your Daily Dose said she was going to forego making New Year’s Resolution and instead making monthly resolutions. Jumping at the chance to succeed and rub this success in her face, I agreed to participate. This time, jumping too fast into choosing my resolution, I decided my monthly resolution would be to make a new friend. There was some debate in my head as to what I should make my resolution and this seemed like the best one for the entire world and the least selfish because hey, being friends with me is a gift in itself, right?

Since I couldn’t do this all on my own I enlisted the help of a friend I had not seen in over 3 years. He was a stand-up comedian friend of mine who I had kept in touch with over the years. We’d fill each other in on how our lives were going. Usually it went “Are you happy?” “No. How about you?” “No.” And then we remembered why we became friends in the first place.


(Pretty much us)

We agreed to meet up one night at the place we used to go drinking at after shows or during shows when we were supposed to be outside bugging people in Times Square to buy tickets to see a subpar comedy show. This was a place we had a lot of memories at. One time he ordered quesadillas and they never came after an hour even though the waitress kept saying they were almost ready. This was the same place where a group of 10 drunk guys asked me which waitress I would rather sleep with and in a very philosophical way I broke down how I would sleep with the bustier one but I would marry the thinner more friendly one. They seemed amazed that someone could think so logically about life.

On my way to the bar/restaurant I had hoped to maybe make a friend. I had purposefully given myself some bed head without using any gel so I looked pretty cool. There was a girl on the train with a goofy hat who I think wanted me to talk to her because she sat down near me. If not for the giant red pimple on her chin and the possibility of her being 17 I would have.

When I actually got into New York I had thought maybe I could make a friend walking through Times Square. I had never actually made a friend this way before but I have had great conversations there with strangers. I was at around 47th street when a cute girl leaned in to me.

“Can I ride your face?” she said. Well, no. That’s what I heard. I asked her to repeat it. She tried again and said, “Do you know where the H&M is?” I pondered about it. I had no clue but I’ve learned in New York City you want to pretend like you know your way around. I tried getting more information out of her like if she knew anything it was near. She had no idea. I gave her half-assed directions and she thanked me. I apologized because I hadn’t been to New York in quite some time. Neither had she. I asked where she was from. She was from Edison, New Jersey the town I lived in the first year of my life. We began to talk more and she knew the street I lived on and her dad was actually from the town I live in now. It was weird. It was magical. It was destiny.


(Could it be? Had I made a friend for life?)

“Okay well thanks then. Have a good night.” she said before we even got started on our life together. She was with an even more awkward friend. They continued on in search of their store and I didn’t look back. It wasn’t meant to be. Plus she blinked too much.

I arrived at the bar/restaurant and found my friend outside. I snuck up and smacked him in the head. He told me I 1) looked taller 2) had a less girly/teenager voice 3) seemed more mature. The first thing I did was smack him in the head. How immature did I used to be?


(How I used to be. I’m the pirate in the middle)

We went inside and hopped upstairs where things were less frantic. We sat down and immediately began to check out the room and any potential female suitors. There wasn’t much so we caught up on old times. We whined to each other about other comedians we hate and how unfunny so many of them are. I swear we’d be banned from ever telling a joke ever again if some people heard the honest things we were saying.

Our food arrived, we ate, and I tried figuring out which waitress I should try to befriend. There was the heavyset one who was taller than me. Okay, no way. She could beat me up. Then there was the blonde one who had been doing most of the work for us. She was cute and friendly but had something wrong with her face. Not on my friend’s list missy! Finally there was a small brunette who pretended I didn’t exist except for when my friend got up to use the bathroom. She approached me and said “Hey I didn’t want to do this in front of your friend but can I ride your face?” Actually that’s what I heard. What she really said was “Are you guys doing alright?” So maybe I could look into this deeper and she was offering to sit on my face. I’m not sure. I don’t understand many social cues.

Not long after we left. My buddy was nice enough to walk me 20 blocks down only to find out the station was closed. I walked to two more stations to try finding the train home before finally finding one that was open. I even tried to have a conversation with other people having the same trouble. I said “I think the one on 22nd street is open!” They didn’t say a word. Why am I social cancer?


(This bunny has more shyness than I do and I bet he even would have gotten a response)

I got into the train and on the second stop a girl sat down next to me. There were plenty more open seats (like my face for instance) but she chose to sit to my right. I gave her the creepy man’s test which is to smack my knee into her every so often to see if it scared her off. It didn’t! Had I made a friend? Or had she not really even been thinking about it because the only reason she was sitting next to me was so she could stare at the studly Australian guy sitting across the train car? I’ll never know because what could I have ever said to her, “Hey, I’m going to smack my knee into yours and see if it bothers you”?

Only two days later I no longer felt the immediate need to make a new friend. Making new friends would be nice and I’m still on the lookout, but why do I need to force it? It will happen when it happens. I have other things I’m trying to accomplish right now. Plus, who likes the hero in a story to succeed in the first act? Nobody. Time for round two.

In my attempt to share as much with the world as I possibly can because I’ve found more good happens the more I share, I am going to let you all in on a part of my life that I’ve been somewhat quiet about. I try to make it no secret what I want in life. I want a mansion, chicks banging at my door to get in just to look at me, and happiness forever. I’m actually afraid of mansions (horror films), chicks never bang at my door to look at me (my face), and in general I’m pretty miserable (again, my face). All that aside there is still something I’ve convinced myself I can do. I want to get paid to write movies, TV shows, and anything else I can.

Sometimes when I tell people what it is I want to do I feel like a little boy. It is a little boy’s dream. It was my little boy’s dream. Ever since I can remember I have wanted to be Mel Brooks. I met my best friend of 20 years because we both loved Spaceballs in kindergarten. In a way my life was kind of scripted out how it would go. Although I didn’t get real into writing until about 3 years ago, it was always in the back of my head that it was something I wanted to do. I saved up my money for my entire life thus far so I could have the opportunity to have more time to pursue this dream. I’m unemployed now but because I was responsible (cheap) for the last 25 years I can relax a bit and go after what I want without having to tie myself down immediately to a crappy job.


(Who said a uniform makes a job a good one?)

Okay this introduction was boring. What I really wanted to tell you blog friends was the first step I took toward my little boy fantasy. There’s this website called The Blacklist. Wait until I’m finished to check it out. Basically it takes the best scripts as judged by Hollywood professionals and they use an algorithm to determine the favorites each year. At the end of the year a list is produced. Many of these films go on to become major motion pictures. Argo and Django Unchained are two recent films that made this list not too long ago. What I’m saying is getting on this list means you’re a lot closer to getting that mansion with the whores.

In the fall this website opened up to the public. Everything I read about this opportunity seemed real legitimate. All you had to do was pay $25 a month to host the script on the site and any of the professionals could download it at any time. In November I finished up something I had started on Memorial Day and paid the $25 submission fee. Not too many people looked at it so I paid an extra $50 to get a guaranteed review. While sitting at my dad’s on New Years Eve because I have no friends, I got an email saying I received my first ever professional review from a real-time professional pro reading professional pro person. They get paid to do this is what I’m saying.

buddy 2

(How I spent my New Years Eve)

Now if you don’t mind, I would like to share with you the review I was given. I’ll put any of my comments in italics nearby:

(Not bad so far. The average rating on the site when I got this rating had an overall 6.82, it has since gone down to 6.79 which means I am above average. I was going to be happy just knowing I got above a 4 considering nobody else had ever read past page 10 of the script)

Era: Present day

Locations: the Middle Eastern city of Nakajabulahantishistamene (I love the fact that they had to type this all out)

Budget: Medium

Genre: Comedy, Spoof/Parody

Pages: 107

Logline:When an all-American rocker loses his popularity, a terrorist recruiting center in the Middle East hires him to write popular music that will appeal to young, aspiring terrorists. (It’s really supposed to be a caricature of the Proud to be an American singer as an arrogant asshole, but I guess their logline sounds more professional)

Strengths:This is a bold and outrageously unique premise in the hands of a writer who ultimately has the right sense of humor to handle it – a strong and consistent comic voice throughout this script with truly funny, tongue-in-cheek prose. Cliff is a distinct and laughable character, and the use of certain comic motifs (like the Nickelback jokes) really add to the script’s humor. (I like to think nothing else in the history of the world has had comic motifs surrounding Nickelback jokes)

Weaknesses:If this script has one major weakness, it’s that its plot doesn’t develop as much as it could. While the plot is generally well-paced, with things happening to the characters, there isn’t really an overriding tension, or developed enough central dramatic conflict, to keep the audience engaged in the story. While the consistent humor may succeed in keeping the audience engaged anyway, a bold premise such as this has more potential to make a political/cultural statement with its plot, engaging an audience on an intellectual level, than this script currently does. If Cliff experienced more of a character arc (even if it was to become more despicable), it may make the plot more engaging. On a lesser note, some of the dialogue – especially in the third act – feels excessive, affecting the overall pacing of the script and losing the audience’s attention. For example, Cliff’s several lengthy monologues may pack more of a punch if shortened or broken up by some action.

Prospects: While the writer’s talent and comic intent is clear, this script nevertheless uses some bold stereotypes that may limit its potential audience and make it a risky venture for major studios and certain production companies. That said, with very specific packaging(actors/creatives who have previously pulled off this type of irreverent comedy), and perhaps some attention to the above-mentioned weaknesses, this script may have the potential to market well, especially with 18-24 year old males.

Okay so I didn’t put too many italics in there because it seemed tedious to do. I have since uploaded two new versions which I believe help fix what was wrong with it. The funny thing about it is they say the Third Act is a little weak. The Third Act is where I did half-ass it. I had no idea what to do. I stopped writing it for 2 months I was so lost. All this makes me think is how much intuition I have into knowing what works and what does not work. Or maybe I’m just right about one thing. Either way, this made me really happy to find out the same things they found wrong with it were the same things I thought they might.

If you want to take away anything from this post it’s that I’m awesome and you should go out and take a risk for something you want because you might be pleasantly surprised and have it make you really happy like this did. Look for Friends With Terrorists to open in theaters sometime in 2078 when it is incredibly easy to get a movie made.

Sleepovers, better known as up all night giggle fests, are something every child should experience. Only few times did I ever spend the night away from my own bed when I was younger. Usually whenever I did it meant one of my parents put the other in the hospital or my parents were having ravenous loud makeup sex after the one who was in the hospital had gotten out. Today I do my best to remember my first up all night giggle fest and all the crazy events that took place.

I was probably in 4th grade when I was invited to my first up all night giggle fest. It was rare I was invited to parties when I was younger because I was me. One time a classmate had a birthday party at a bowling alley. I wasn’t invited. I was so uninvited that I didn’t even know about the party. I went bowling with my family and guess who was 3 lanes over, all my friends without me. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure this was the first moment I wished the entire world dead.


(Watching the earth explode and everyone on it die used to be like hardcore porn for me. Now it’s just softcore. By that I mean it’s nice but not as much fun as other possibilities)

When I got invited to this sleepover in 4th grade I felt really honored. Not too many kids were invited. After all, what parent wants a house filled with little boys running around? Sleepovers are usually limited in numbers because if you put too many young boys in a room together you get Shakespeare or however the saying goes.

This was a very humble party as far as birthday parties go. I think we ate Dominoes because they had the best commercials going at the time. Commercials only work on children. When I was younger and a commercial came on for a toy we wanted, everyone I knew would shout “I want that!” at the TV as if it would give their parents a raise where they could actually afford the toy.

Other than the food we also played the popular Madden video game. I knew nothing about football at the time. I really mean nothing. I knew it existed and I knew after games the men shower naked together. I was at a huge disadvantage when it came to knowing the actual game rules. I was at an even higher disadvantage considering the game console was one I had never played before and no one would tell me which buttons did certain things. I was playing the birthday boy and the game was a 0-0 tie with only a few seconds left. I told him “no matter who wins we both played a great game.” I distinctly remember saying that to him. He ran the ball and thinking football was like a real sport where the game ends when the clock runs out, I gave up chasing him. He scored a touchdown on the last play and won the game. He got up and did a celebratory dance. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure this was the second time I wished the entire world dead.


(Thanks Mr. Madden. You ruined a friendship I had with a kid who had smelly breath)

The video game playing got boring so we decided to watch the classic Tom Arnold film The Stupids. Yeah, it was that kind of party. Like in any situation, we all found the weakest kid at the party and began to make fun of him. I forget what we made fun of him for, but we did it. He was also the first one to fall asleep. Why didn’t anyone teabag him? I don’t think at this point in our lives we even knew we had testicles.

Of all the unexciting things to happen at this up all night giggle fest the strangest was when we were sitting around talking about Pokemon or whatever we were talking about and the birthday boy turned around and showed everyone his ass. He didn’t even say anything. He just presented himself for us all to see for a few seconds then pulled his pants back up. He even bent over and aimed his ass toward us to let us all know his pants didn’t drop by mistake. I never had the courage to ask the guy why he did what he did. I will admit though, we all laughed at him mooning us. Something about seeing a half-Jewish boy’s ass crack was pretty funny. I don’t know if I would have the same reaction today.


(This picture has nothing to do with this post but I have noticed whatever picture I use at the end is the one that shows up as the thumbnail on Facebook and I wanted to let more people know how hot the Spy Kids girl got. This also got me to stop thinking about little boy butts)

Have you ever been to an up all night giggle fest? Girls, tell us your best pillow fights/bicurious encounters. Guys, sit back and read what the girls say.

During my time receiving cancerous rays from computer screens I have made many Internet friends. Don’t feel special WordPress bloggers, I’ve been making Internet friends ever since I was 13. I have more people willing to click “subscribe” to this blog than are willing to become friends with me on Facebook. More people will comment on this particular blog post than will spend my birthday with me. The Internet is where I seem to make all my friends these days. For a guy who carries around spare deodorant in his car I can’t be too smelly. It’s Axe too because that’s the one women murder themselves over you for.

(She smelt me once and fell in love. I turned her down. Her life is no longer worth living)

Sometimes an Internet friend becomes more like a real friend. I’ve talked to a few WordPressers outside of the blogosphere and some I consider a regular friend. Things remind me of you and I’ll even explain to police officers how a particular blog post of yours is what inspired me to light the fire. Most of us will never meet in person which is fine, it might be better that way. I do remember however one instance many years ago when I made an Internet friend who I accidentally ended up meeting years later with lackluster consequences.

When I first got the Internet I did whatever I could to find as many people I could instant message as possible. I searched AOL profiles for girls who went to the same school as me and baseball players who I could bug about nonsense. I actually did used to talk to a few baseball players online. The one I talked to a few times ended up having to retire and got a job at Old Navy. With the girls, I always kept secret who I was. If they knew it was the weird fat kid from gym class they’d insist the Internet was not a safe place to be.

(This kid is reliving my life)

I began talking to one girl who actually responded well to me. She went to a rival middle school. I don’t remember what it was specifically that made me instant message her. I think I was feeling courageous. We’ll call her Does Dallas because her real first name matches the main character in an old film about a woman who goes out and “Does Dallas.” I don’t want people to be able to figure out who she is as her privacy is very important to me.

(I changed my mind, I don’t care)

I’m not sure what we talked about exactly but Does Dallas actually would instant message me first a few times. I hid no secrets from her. I was exactly who I was in real life and she was responding well. She told me her sister got a new camera and she would send me her picture. Did Does Dallas have intentions with me I could only fantasize about? She sent me the picture and I was amazed at how attractive she was. All this really meant was I could never send her a real picture of me. Onto my computer, in search of the picture of a shirtless British kid I would send girls claiming it was me, I went.

I told Does Dallas how a classmate of hers was on my baseball team. We’ll call him At Night since his real first name is the first half of a Nickelodeon programming series taking place “At Night.” Well, a lesson was learned by me. At Night did not have kind things to say about me. Does Dallas came online and said how At Night told her about me. I asked what he said. She did not make it clear but the fact Does Dallas never spoke to me ever again does not bode well. At Night was a dweeb who asked a girl out once and when she said yes he thanked her. This was the guy who was cock-blocking me?

(“At Night” was a travesty to other men with the same first name. I won’t say it. I swear I won’t let you know what his name was)

Fast forward to high school. You don’t have to fast forward but I suggest you do to avoid the anguish in between I suffered from many other people. As rival middle schoolers do, they sometimes attend the same high school. Guess who I happened to share a graduating class with? Does Dallas, that’s who. We never had class together, but one time during a field trip she sat across from me. I wondered and still do if she remembers how she had fallen for me online. At the time she was pulling off the “hot nerd” look. I remember her wearing tight black striped pants on the bus ride to see Julius Caesar, the play not the politician. I was at my fattest and sat next to the fattest black chick in class. The two-seater was not made for two offensive lineman which is what we were voted most likely to grow up to become.

I never had a real conversation with Does Dallas. She was smart which leads me to believe she always knew exactly who I was. People always do that. They ignore any connections they used to have to you no matter how silly the circumstances were. The closest I ever came to talking to her was one night during senior year. My friend had a huge crush on her and they had planned to hangout. She cancelled. He asked his best friend to hangout. The best friend cancelled. I had nothing going on so we went out to what his best friend was REALLY up to. Parked in front of the house was Does Dallas’s car. We snuck up along the fence and my friend caught the love of his life in the hot tub with his best friend. Then her head went under water and his best friend’s eyes rolled back into his head. Use your imagination.

Long story short, thank you current Internet friends for not owning hot tubs and inviting girls I have crushes on over to your place or something like that.

Since I have not gotten onto the Internet via the computer I save all my blogs to in order to email the file to myself so I can access them anywhere (see, it takes a lot of effort to get these suckers posted) I have decided to cash in my many awards I have won, sort of. I used to think blogging awards were real. The first time I got one I gloated to people I knew in real life. I felt like a champion. Turns out these are at times passed on because you happen to be the easiest to link back. My soul was crushed. I went into hiding for 8 years and lived among a tribe of pygmies. I got hungry one night and ate the entire tribe. Now I’m back to society to collect my awards.

(With my pygmy pals Oscar and Hasselhoff)

If memory serves me correctly, I owe accepting awards to Pouring My Art Out, Your Daily Dose, two from The Camel Life, and about 73 from A Gripping Life. I might be missing someone but these are the only ones I remember as they do not use me as someone to nominate then toss me into the trash like the rest of you do. They all nominated me for different awards. Instead of trying to find out which ones they were and such I have decided to create my own award, The Long Overdue Award.

The way this award works is you don’t follow any of the rules from the awards. All you do is say something nice about however many people you feel like saying nice things about. You don’t even need to link back to the profiles because we all know how annoying that can be. Look at the damn blogroll if you’re so inclined to see the lame people I’m referring to. The best thing about this award is you can make the nominees completely anonymous. If you think I am referring to you anywhere below then feel free to pass on the award! If you don’t think I’m referring to you then we probably just don’t know each other very well, yet. Or you might be really stupid and don’t deserve the award anyway.

Nominee #1: You are a very modest, honest, and passionate person. You’ve got strong morals and a great sense of humor. You don’t always see eye-to-eye with a lot of things people say yet somehow it never becomes a burden. I respect this and try to do it myself more. You’re someone I and I’m sure a thousand other people could always count on if we ever needed your help. You live a life quite gripping, but still make time for others. Anyone would be lucky to call you their mother.

Nominee #2: I’m not sure where you came from or how we met, but I am glad we did. I don’t know much about you as you keep things simple and quiet. Despite this I still see the goodness in you. You’re a caring and helpful person. You would go the distance to help others in any way you could even if you knew they would never do the same back. I wish you didn’t hide so much who you are because if we got to know more about you I’m sure we would adair you even more.

Nominee #3: Some days I wish I had the brash attitude you have. You take no prisoners and don’t care what others think, at least to an extent. I’m sure sometimes you do care and with some people it is important. As all bad boys do, you have a soft side and in many ways this is how we are alike. We come from completely different backgrounds, have different tastes, but your direction in where we want life to take us is not all that different. We’re doing our best to evolve through the insanity. Continued support for each other and I’m sure we can make it.

Nominee #4: I was going to say something nice to this person, but I’m pretty sure she won’t read it anyway since she claims she’ll be away until December. Oh well. Hopefully the only disease you have right now is happiness and you will come back and we can continue chatting.

Nominee #5: Above all else you need to remember what a great mom you are even when life stresses you out. You’re clever, kind, and sometimes I worry about growing up because I can’t imagine having a busy life like you do. Somehow you still manage to put everything into perspective and at least seem sane on the surface. The fact you have maintained friendships with so many people over the years is a true testament to the great person you really are. I know you probably don’t sleep much but once they’re grown you will finally get your chance.

Nominee #6: I hate you and I hope you die. No, really, we can joke like that and I like it. What’s scary about you is you could probably blackmail me. Not that I’ve done anything horrible, but you probably could. You’re a funny gal who I know I can always share things with. You’ve listened to me whine when I was lonely, when I was sad, and even that one time when I was in a good mood. I appreciate all the advice, honesty, and conversations we have had even outside the blogosphere. You’re my sista from another mista. I hope Canada has been treating you well.

Nominee #7: I haven’t known you very long but I already know how awesome you are. I don’t know much about the person you are deep down inside. I know there’s some evil, but there is also a lot of kindness and acceptance.  You’re crazy funny and creative. I’m only jealous I don’t think up half the things you do because they’re so great. Madame, we bowlers need to stick together. (I don’t bowl and I’m not sure if you do either. It was hard to subtle with this one)

Nominee #8: You’re my longest tended follower who comes around still, although not as often I am always glad to hear from you. You’re a hard-worker and I have a feeling through your hard work you have inspired others, including myself, to put forth a greater effort. You’re a clever guy and it would be great to actually get to know the man behind your genius sometime. Your last name always makes me think of fish car with gills. This isn’t your fault, don’t feel to blame.

Nominee #9: Finally you are beginning to open up about who you are a little bit. Don’t be afraid. I know it seems like you can burn a bridge and ruin the life you have ahead of you so quickly, truth is it’s hard because most people aren’t paying so close attention. I’m still shocked by your age and how talented you are. You’re well-versed in knowledge and even when you’re talking about something I have no interest in you can get me glued. Making your blog may not have been intended, but having people wanting to get to know you must have been.

Nominee #10: Well, well, well. My sworn enemy. I’ll avoid saying anything negative here as this is time for celebration! The only bad thing I’ll say about you is you’re too timid at times. You should have no reason to. You’re a great artist, a talented writer, and people are always clambering to be around you. You’ve got a gift to  make people like you. Use it. You’re a great father and you actually remind me of my own dad in a lot of ways. Never lose that. Continue pouring your art out into the world. We need it as much as you do.

Nominee #11: I don’t know you very well, but I’ll say something nice because you’re pretty entertaining to talk to. Hopefully you start blogging more than once every three months so we can actually develop some sort of relationship. Anyway, you’re clearly a genius who thinks over top of my head. You’re almost a tomboy but not really. I have no doubt you put your heart into everything it is that you do. You’ll go far in life with all the wonderful things you have about you. Ren in doubt, just remember you’re a lot better than others out there.

Nominee #12: I don’t know you personally very much. Either of you. This is a duel nomination and I’m not sure either of you will ever see this because the one is probably off wearing skinny jeans in Toronto while the other is living something called the camel life whatever that means despite me reading the description. All this aside, you two future lesbian lovers are always a gas to read. You’re two chicks any guy would be lucky to have. It’s a shame you’re in love with each other and yourselves which is the same thing when I think about it.

Nominee #13: I could never find a single negative thing to say about you other than I thought you were a mean person at first. Clearly you’re not. You’re one of the kindest, sweetest, and supportive people I have met. You’re adventurous and daring. You tried describing to me more about what it is you do and it was so complicated I gave up listening. Really though, there’s a lot more to you than you ever let people know and I don’t think you should be afraid to show other sides of you sometimes. You have a way to cheer anybody up and I don’t doubt your closest friends keep you around because of it. A daily dose of you is never enough.

If you were left off don’t feel bad! All this means is we aren’t as close, you’re a dick, or I just don’t like you very much. If you’re really desperate for attention or a compliment let me know and I’ll find some kindness to spread your way. I hope none of what I said was too creepy as it came from a genuine place in my heart.

Caring for others is a huge part of the human experience. Having a love/hate relationship with others is another big part of life. I have a love/hate relationship with my dog. I take care of him because I know it’s the right thing to do, but I also fantasize about tricking him into running into traffic. It wouldn’t be very hard. All I would need to do is chase after him with a vacuum or running DVD copy from a Fourth of July celebration. He hates loud noises. I think he fought in Nam. Maybe that’s what he dreams about when he squeals and kicks his feet while in dream land.

(Tom Berenger also hates loud noises. The flash of paparazzi cameras gives him seizures. Good thing nobody cares about him anymore)

Sometimes I sit myself down and wonder if anyone cares about me. It can be a tough question to ask yourself. “Does anyone really care about me?” Of course people care about you. Your boss depends on you. That creepy fat woman you always see on the bus adores you. Even your government needs you once WWIII breaks out. All of them care. I care. Your existence gives me more hits to my blog. Everyone has a purpose. Yours might simply be numbers.

There’s caring about someone and then there’s caring for someone. Caring about someone means you don’t want them to die. That’s about the extend. Caring for someone means you go out of your way for them. You make sacrifices. When they feel pain you feel it too. Hopefully we all have people in our lives where this goes both ways. I like having people around who I can cry in front of and my tears alone make them cry. It’s powerful. It feels like we’re playing Simon Says. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery after all. Why is it? Because if you behave like someone it means you want to be them. You want to share the emotions with them no matter how bad. It’s a true sign that someone cares.

Even bigger than caring about someone or caring for someone is just plain old caring. You don’t even need to add anything else to it. Caring is much harder to find. I don’t think anyone truly cares. Before you stop yourself and do your best sighing voice with your hands on your hips getting all uppity, let me explain. I’m sure you care about me. I’m sure you care for me. Caring to me is caring about what I care about. Are you following along? It’s complicated. If it wasn’t complicated then I wouldn’t be writing about this to try to figure it all out. I had an epiphany while walking into WalMart about this. I get a lot of epiphanies at weird times. I also had another one very inconveniently. To keep things PG I will just hint that something that should have been hard went soft at the worst possible time. Use your imagination.

(I had showed up expecting to play hardball, but my friends wanted to play softball. I didn’t bring the right mitt!)

There are plenty of things in life I care about that are specific to myself. I care about the way I look. I know that seems shallow on the surface, but who doesn’t care about the way they look? Ugly people. That’s who. I just like to not only be told how awesome I look, I also like when people make an effort to make me look better. Buying me cool clothing or telling me when I have a stray nose hair can help me out with this. I also don’t really like being told I am handsome. Handsome men smoke cigars, gel their hair down, and sexually harass women with a smile. I don’t smoke anything, I barely comb my hair, and when I sexually harass a woman it’s with a baseball bat, not a smile.

(Winston Churchill with a cigar in his mouth looking very…handsome? Okay, there goes my theory about handsome men smoking cigars)

Another important thing in my life which is much less shallow are the people in it. Friend(s), family, and people who can be used for car rides places are all very valuable. It’s important that these people respect each other even when they don’t get along. I have had friends in the past who hated each other. It never bothered me much because I enjoy fighting and it never affected my friendships. At the very least it takes knowing who the important people in each other’s lives are to show that you truly do care. A name isn’t that hard to memorize. Half the guys I know are named Mike anyway. Know the role players in someone’s life and they will know you love them.

A big part of my life is writing. Like sometimes I worry it is what my social life has completely become. Not that I don’t mind most of the time. Words on a computer can’t cancel on you when you plan on going to the beach. A sentence has never told you she overslept when you were supposed to go out to breakfast and you really knew she was out hanging with someone else. I love when people take an interest into what I’m writing. Even if they think it’s terrible I appreciate any interest. Things I write are important to me because they are a part of me. Anything I write is me trying to communicate. When people do not take an interest then I feel as if it is no different from me speaking to them and being ignored. It’s a hard thing too because I am always interested in reading other people’s work. Sometimes it’s to see a train wreck. I would pay some people I know to try to be entertaining. I know they would fail. They were not born a monkey with cymbals like I was.

(All I’m missing is the fez and swollen pink feet)

Not only does it take an active interest in what is important to me to show you care, it also takes trying to get to know every little thing about me. I could never care about someone who doesn’t try to psychoanalyze me. I analyze everything. You should be the same way. You don’t have to be psychotic about it like I can get. What I believe is important is that you not only understand what I do, but also why I do it. Who was mean to me when which causes me to do certain things? I can never deny someone into my life who tries to “figure me out.” Here’s a little hint if you ever try to do such. I’m not as complicated as I seem to be. None of us are. We all want the same basic things. Mostly, someone who cares.

Hay, water, and convicts. The word bail means a lot to them. Bails of hay are gigantic and make me sneeze. You can stack these bails then hide things like needles or Natalee Holloway inside and they will never be found again. When bailing water, you have problems. The act of scooping water out of your boat and back into the larger amount of water surrounding you is known as bailing. You will probably only ever be in this situation if you are in a rowboat with a hole in it. Why does one need to be in a rowboat? We have bridges and iPads now. It’s stupid to go anywhere near water. Finally convicts. They can pay money to get out of jail for a few weeks until their trial. I’m not exactly sure how this all works as movies about lawyers bore me. Unless you consider The Mighty Ducks a movie about lawyers. The back of the DVD case does start with “Hotshot Lawyer Gordon Bombay…” so I’ll put it right up there with To Kill A Mockingbird.

(The photographer told Emilio to strike a “get a load of these kids” pose. Good job Emilio. You struck it perfect)

The worst kind of bails are the ones people do to us. This is known as bailing on someone. I’m sure it’s happened to you. If not you’re probably the bailer. It’s like that old joke about how most people look like birds. If you look around the room and don’t see someone who looks like a bird then you’re the parakeet faced buffoon. I want to discuss this awful friends today. The ones who always seem to be bailing. They’re unapologetic, forgetful, and almost always overweight. I’ll start with that right away.

Why do overweight people bail a lot on plans? Okay, I am an expert into the psychology of overweight people. Spending a good portion of my life being a member of the club, I have a deep understanding of why they do a lot of the things they do. Fat people bail simply because they’re shy and have really bad social anxieties. You can almost excuse it. There’s something deeper than them being a bad friend that needs fixing. The only reason it should not be excused is sometimes this can screw you over. I had a friend who swore he would help me with a project for school. I checked in with him every day. He even agreed to get his brother and his brother’s friends to help out too. The day came when I needed the help. Guess who didn’t answer his phone for an entire day? It’s not that all overweight folk do this or do it for this reason, but I have a deep feeling this is the case. Realize most people have social anxieties. That should not be something to hold you back from helping out a friend.

People who bail often enough end up making excuses. Most are pretty unbelievable. Nobody gets that many flat tires. Nobody has a job that schedules them last second this frequently. Nobody has a grandmother who dies every month then miraculously resurrects in order to die a month later. I find that the best excuse is to not make one. Be straight up. If you don’t want to hang out with someone don’t tell them why. Just say you cannot do it. If they ask you can say because they’re boring and you feel boys are less likely to approach you when she’s around due to her sweating problem. Or you can take the less scenic route and say you’re not in the mood. Really, the best thing to do is not make plans you do not 100% fully intend on making. If someone tells me they want to hangout with me (ha, I know right? Let’s be hypothetical for a second) I will decide within the first few seconds if I want to hang with them or not. When I don’t feel like it then I will not really pursue much further. What I’m really trying to say through the bags under my eyes I have right now is that if you make plans with a friend, barring death, you better damn well keep them.

(Sorry I can’t hangout, my grandma came back as a zombie and is killing Vietnamese nurses)

As with most social faux pas, girls bail much more than guys. Other than my one fat friend, who I was used to bailing on me by that point, I haven’t had too many people do it to me. This can be because upon meeting most women I mime squeezing their breasts and we never become friends. I always am hearing about girls bailing on each other. This all comes back to the whole thing about women being dishonest. Girls care so much about their perception. I had planned on writing something about the media, but I have nothing more to say than this. The media is not to blame for the way people are perceived. That’s our own fault. The media gives us what we want. If enough of us hated Kardashians they would be executed on live TV. Well, a 7 second delay, but I think I can wait. Not a second longer though. Yelling about how the media wants you to look a certain way is garbage. Would you really want to watch a movie with a bunch of ugly people in it? Rent a Julia Roberts movie so badly if that’s what you’re into. All I’m saying is that the media doesn’t want you to be a blonde bombshell. I do. You do. Everyone both of us knows does. Attractive people make them money. So what was it that I started to say here? Oh yes, girls kid themselves too much. Don’t buy magazines or watch TV if it bothers you so much. When enough people agree with you then things will change. Pinky swear.

Keep your promises. Bailing on a friend’s plans is breaking a promise. Do you like when people break promises to you? No. Of course not. You hate President Obama and his ability to say one thing then turn around months later saying “Well, I wanted it to be the other way–” I didn’t realize the economic bailout meant saying you’d fix everything then bailing out on doing it. Why am I so angry at Mr. President today? He gives greet speeches and has a nice smile. He also gives me hope! I’m not sure what about, but he gives it to me hard.

(You’re kidding yourself if you think this is the way heroes smile. Clearly the Lord of the Flies right here)

Do people bail on you often? How do you handle it? Have you also noticed I use the words “that” and contractions way too much in anything I write?

P.S. I will be unavailable to contact until Friday. I’m not Natalee Holloway’ing on you, I’m Adam Walsh’s head’ing. That is to say, I will return via mail in horrendous fashion.

Kevin Bacon is an actor with a strange-looking nose. On a petite girl with stunning dark hair, this nose might be attractive. On the dude from Tremors, it’s odd. There was a book written called “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.” Actually I’m not sure if it was so much written as it was handed to Moses on top of a mountain. Basically the book is about how you can connect any actor to Kevin Bacon within six people. How many trees were killed for that I wonder. In real life we have similar Kevin Bacon like connections. We meet friends of friends. Sometimes they’re good. Sometimes they’re bad. More often than not they’re awkward.

 (Matthew Lillard, this is your future. Except Kevin Bacon still gets roles and you’re living off of Dead Man’s Curve royalties)

Rarely do I make good with friends of friends. It’s weird. What do we have in common? We get free rides from the same doofus. That doesn’t mean we should talk or respect each other. I always feel uncomfortable talking with a friend of a friend. We’re both phony and have nothing more to do than ask each other about work or the last time we were forced into talking for 5 minutes. Certainly we’re not going to spend our time talking about how great our mutual friend is. Except in cases where we want to let that friend of our friend know that our mutual friend likes us better. I’ll make up lies and say that the person we have in common must like me better because I know his deepest darkest secret. My rival will retort by telling me that he IS the deep dark secret. Does it make you a better friend to be the one who has been told about the hidden homosexual relationship or to be the one in that relationship? I’d really like to know. I may be owed money.

People not named Me can be more normal in these situations. They will actually enjoy the company of friends of friends. I know, crazy right? If you’re one of these people be warned, you do not want to become a friend poacher. When Person A is friends with Person B and Person C then Person B starts talking to Person C without Person A around this is poaching. It’s a terrible social crime. I think I’ve mentioned it before. I probably posted a hilarious photograph of an elephant getting shot too. Or a delicious egg. Women are more friend poachers than men are. Women will go shopping with a friend of a friend because women hate being alone. Just because a bathroom can fit two people doesn’t mean it should. Why is it that women hate being alone? Doesn’t that mean you’ll not only get raped but also have to watch the same thing happen to your friend again? This must be what they mean when they say women are bad at math.

(No Helen. 5 times 4 does not equal 89 + 832 x 512 – 90387562)

Whenever someone introduces me to their friend, as their friend, I am weary. I feel like they have some sick fantasy where all three of us take a road trip. Maybe we can get lost in the woods Blair Witch style. Get into a fight over which of us gets to ride the tandem bike we find inside a dumpster. I feel like I’m being set up with this friend. My friend must have cancer. There’s no other reason why he’d let me meet his other friends. That’s his other separate world. That’s where he keeps the comic book geeks, the corporate schmucks, and fat girls he’s too embarrassed to be seen at the mall in his hometown with. Let me be that other part of your life. Let it be just the two of us. We can even sing the song of the same name. But please, don’t make me have a conversation with someone who knows you as something that you’re not.

(Wow it all makes sense now. Will Smith was trying to get rid of Jada for years)

The scariest thing about friends of friends is when you’re the one being introduced. You never know what those people think of you. Has your friend done a good job in describing your personality? I had a girl say to me once “Wow, you’re as funny as I was told!” Then we talked a little bit more and we grew to hate each other. Did I blow it? I don’t care. We were never meant to be friends. I think we were only introduced as confirmation that both of us existed. I’m still not positive if she was real or not. I never met her in person and she made all of the same typos online that my friend would make. But why question it? I can’t go back in time and not have cybersex with her and/or him.

What do you really think of the friends of your friends? I almost always find them stupid and wonder how the one I’ve come to like had slipped through the cracks. How someone cool around me can be so lame surrounded by the “Friday Night Crew.” If your group of friends has a nickname and you take it very seriously please Thelma and Louis yourselves off a canyon. I know there were only two of them, but you can always go off in pairs.