Archive for October, 2012

When a person is young their birthday is the greatest thing on the planet. To a kid a birthday is better than sex! Probably because most sex involving children happens against their will and ends with threats against their parents if they ever say anything about it. The older we get though the more we grow to hate our birthdays. We get terribly depressed about it. Since today is my birthday and I’m not really all that depressed for some reason (I’m high on pain killers and starved myself yesterday so I have an excuse to get something unhealthy tonight for dinner) I have decided to take a levelheaded and sane approach at finding out why so many of us get sad on what used to be our special day.

The first reason why we get depressed is obvious, it’s our party and we can cry if we want to. There was even a song about it. They played it in Problem Child when the bratty ballerina girl stomped around while the bad Ginger kid caused trouble. On your birthday you can get away with anything, especially gaining pity. People say things like “I’m 21–again!” and then we can laugh at them because they’re not really 21. They’re way older than that. Look at those crow’s feet. Look at those wrinkles. Look at that receding hairline. You’re not 21. You’re a broken shell of the person you used to be.

(This is what Britney Spears looks like now? Showing your vagina in public has the same effect on your as it does on a person staring at the Ark of the Covenant)

Another reason why we ask for nooses on our big day is because we know we’re closer to death anyway and we know it’s better to give ourselves the satisfaction of choosing when we leave this world. With each passing year we come closer to getting thrown into the ground, burnt up in an oven, or eaten by farm animals. I have it in my Living Will that I would like to be fed to farm animals. Nobody knows where my Living Will is either. I swallowed a map two years ago and upon my death I have instructed my attorney to contact the 7 people I have selected to cut me up and work together using the map to find my Living Will. I’m hoping there’s a lot of fighting and backstabbing and this turns into a real blood bath. I don’t really fear death anymore. I’m kind of ready to die. I don’t want to but if I were to wake up with the Grim Reaper standing over me I wouldn’t embarrass myself by kicking and screaming as he drags me to hell. I’m sure once I turn 40 I’ll start fearing death again. In the afterlife you’re forever in the state you were in when you died. Being forever 25 sounds a lot better than being forever 60 something. Even 60 years olds don’t like other 60 year olds.

(Never kill someone in the snow. No As Seen on TV product will ever clean out that stain)

Personally the biggest reason for hating my own birthdays when I do is because I hate getting fussed over for a day all because the sun is in the same location from the earth as it was when I was yanked headfirst from a vagina. Why can’t people be nice to me every day like this? Or at the very least, why can’t everyone continue to be horrible toward me on my birthday as well? If I have 100 people (I should probably knock off a few 0’s to be more accurate) in my life who know me and don’t completely hate me I would rather they spread out their love and affection over the course of a year rather than pour it all on in one day. I like consistency. If a different person was nice to me every 3 or 4 days I would be a much happier person. And do most people who say “Happy Birthday” to me really care if I have a happy day or not? Nah. They don’t. But it’s fine. When I sneeze they really don’t care if I’m blessed. They’re just afraid of a demon crawling up my nose then having to run away from me when I desire flesh.

(1960s woman about to sneeze or in the middle of a racist impression having to do with Japanese people?)

The final reason why I think people get the birthday depression bug is because a birthday signifies another milestone. It’s the same thing with New Year’s Eve Suicides, the most festive of snuffing yourself ways. On your birthday you have a chance to look back and see what you did or did not accomplish in the last year. Most people suck and don’t really do much with their lives other than win Week 4 in Fantasy Football. Looking back at what they may have accomplished usually is depressing because they haven’t accomplished much. This happens to me too some years but there’s an easy solution, accomplish something! If you actually make sure you’re always trying your hardest at whatever it is you want in life then without a doubt you will be able to look back on your birthday at the last year and realize it wasn’t a complete waste.

Now to spend the rest of my big day crying and trying to measure out how much Drano a man can drink to get him sick enough where people pay attention to him but not sick enough where he’ll die.

(Now to enjoy my breakfast)

P.S. Thanks for the well wishes. I probably won’t get a chance to thank you right away so thanks in advance.

Two people have told me in my lifetime that I give off a strong sexual vibe. One person was drunk and the other I’m making up. I guess you could say though if someone gives off good enough sexual vibes then people wouldn’t be going up and telling them. To give off truly good vibes the people will become hypnotized. They will not even realize they are under your spell. So for argument’s sake, I am awesome at giving off sexual vibes. Today, I teach you on how to follow in my footsteps.

1) Straddling

I am always straddling things. By straddling I mean placing my feet on opposite sides of an item. These items include and are not limited to library catalogue drawers, dog poo, dead friends, a defeated enemy, or spilt food. Straddling something sends off the sexual vibe that you’re dominant and in charge. Try straddling on whatever you can for a day. If you do it right then girls will be so intimidated by your straddling that they will call you “the weird guy who humps everything.” You know you’ve made it into a girl’s heart once she has a nickname for you.

(A perfect straddling example. Legs are open, feet are firmly placed down, and the item she’s sitting on is phallic shaped. Too bad the cannon isn’t white)

2) Leg Flexibility

There was a part in the new Batman movie where Anne Hathaway gets off her motorcycle thing. Instead of clumsily rolling off like unsexy people would do, she carefully stretches her leg over top the front and brings her feet together. In olden days hip flexibility was seen as a sign you might be divine. Jesus did ass-to-grass squats every day of his life he has such great mobility. It doesn’t matter which way you bend your legs, as long as you’re twisting them around people will take notice. They’ll want to be strangled with your legs if you do this properly.

(A girl told me when Princess Diaries was popular that she liked Anne Hathaway because she would never be naked in a movie. I want to tell her to rent Love & Other Drugs. It made me a fan of hers)

3) Use Your Legs Like Arms

Similar to the above yet somewhat differently, the legs are very important to sending out sexual vibes. The legs are the largest sex organ we have. Of course someone reading this probably has abnormally large ears and is missing their legs so that person may skip over the sentence you just read. I use my legs to do a lot of things my hands could do. I open doors, close doors, move heavy objects, and punch with my legs. Some may argue punching with your legs is called a kick. I disagree. Kicking is what you do in sports. There are no sports involving punching.

(It’s not a punch, it’s a fist kick)

4) Play With Your Hair

You can use your hands or if your hair is long enough simply throw it back like you have a spider crawling along your scalp. Both men and women enjoy seeing members of the opposite sex touch their hair. I never got girls who were into men with shaved heads. Can’t they just date a newborn baby? At least a newborn baby won’t play video games all day long. I’m sure they would but they haven’t developed the motor skills yet. I always know a girl is feeling my vibes when she begins playing with her hair. Sometimes she begins to chew it and that’s when I know to back off.

(She’s clearly way too young to be playing with her hair. Wait a few more years sweetheart. Don’t pretend you’re Abe Lincoln when you do it)

5) Point With Your Crotch

The other day a man asked me for directions to the children’s hospital as his son sat in the backseat bleeding out the ears. Instead of pointing which way to go like a cold fish, I thrusted my hips westward. I pointed with my crotch. This is very simple logic. Go to the mall and point at someone ugly. Suddenly everyone in the mall will see you pointing. Their focus will go onto what you’re pointing at and what is doing the pointing. If you point with your crotch then your crotch begins to get some attention. Men should always walk with their hips forward. This is something I have read from pick-up artists. I think it has something to do with how you will probably bump into a lot of people and if you’re going to bump into them you mine as well grind against them when you do. The next time someone asks you where the fire is, be sure to point with your crotch. You might get a cute fireman’s phone number out of it.

(The Pope points with his finger and I point with my crotch. Who do you think gets more chicks? Whose advice are you going to take? His? You’re just feeling guilty today is all)

What are some other things we can do to send off a sexual vibe? Don’t say rape. That’s behaving too forward.

Ever since my last post you have been sitting in front of your computer wondering why I was never in a relationship while in middle school. I was not always so incredibly cunning, articulate, friendly, or other things for which I am not but could probably convince someone online that I am. I have decided to make things clear, to all of you wondering, because I know you cannot sleep because you are wondering oh so bad, what the problems I had back in this time period in my life and why even the girl with scarlet fever thought me asking taking her to the 8th grade social would have been a downgrade.

(My old classmate Helen Keller who once said I ‘felt so ugly I could be confused for a dog.’ In this picture she thought she was touching my face)

Fat: What 13 year old girl wants to date a fat kid? None. Even the world’s fattest 13 year old girl has standards and Bieber Fever. She needs to be careful though, her heart is not strong enough to survive sick too long. I was so tremendously fat in middle school that some people thought I was off-limits to make fun of. That’s when you know you’re a mess, when people won’t tease you. Plenty other bullies picked up the slack. Several of them were fat fucks too which always threw me. Of course I turned my life around since and I am the well-adjusted adult you all know and love today who holds no ill-will against anything from his past.

Facial Hair: My parents fought about a lot of things. The silliest was about how my dad never taught me how to shave. I guess he was too busy or would be too tempted to slice my throat. My mom would shave my facial hair for me up until 10th grade when I finally decided I should do it myself. Before I was shaving though I had grown in some neck hair. This hair grew so long it almost became pubic. It was certainly fun to play with and no joy to stare at. I had this gross hair hanging from my neck for a year because my parents were too busy having emotional breakdowns or affairs to take notice. Like I said, no ill-will.

(Don Imus used to refer to me as a nappy neck haired ho)

Silence: I was and still am a pretty quiet person. I won’t say something for the sake of saying it like some assholes will (women). One time a kid told me I looked like a turtle. Instead of telling him to die or pointing out that he had a mole on his face I stared at him and get a little teary-eyed. Girls like a guy who has witty comebacks. I had none. You need to be quick on your feet to impressive girl in middle school. Why do you think they all have pictures of Don Rickles in their lockers?

Weird: I have faced facts; I will always be a little odd. This is a good thing sometimes. In middle school it’s a death sentence to loneliness. I can’t think of anything particularly weird I did in middle school that completely turned girls off. I had crust on the side of my nose a lot and I always did my homework. Seriously, I never once didn’t do my homework in 6th grade. I was such a goody-two-shoes you’d think I would have some positive goal in my life like curing racism. Instead my only positive goal is not leaving this world with a bomb strapped to my chest. Again, ill-will.

(Jesse Eisenberg about to blow the bomb strapped to his chest. He’s angry about all the pressure he has on him and the lack of talent he has to meet this pressure)

Fashion: When it comes to fashion I am not as lost as some other guys. I don’t shop at designer stores or anything but I think I dress myself well enough where personality comes through and I don’t look totally ridiculous. Can you really go wrong with jeans and a black t-shirt? Back in middle school my clothing choice consisted of overly baggy jeans to compensate for my very large waist, t-shirts of obscure minor league baseball teams that when told to people what they were only ever got an “oh” response, and worst of all was my gym clothes selection, cut-off sweat pants. My mom said wearing normal sweat pants for gym would get me too hot. She took an old pair of sweats and cut them off at the knee. Did she not realize a boy should never show his knees in public? I blame this attire for always being last picked. Although when I think about it being fat, weird, quiet, and having disgusting facial hair probably didn’t help my case either.

How disgustingly strange were you when you were younger? Do you think you ever had a teacher who wanted to kill you for being such a loser?

I think we all had a few relationships in middle school. I dated a girl who lived in Niagara Falls. We met at a summer camp nobody had ever heard the name of. She hated being photographed which is why whenever friends would ask me to prove to them that I had a girlfriend I had no way of doing so. She was definitely real though. Her name was Scarlett Johansson and I took her virginity. I’m not really sure whatever happened to her.

(And to think I broke up with her because she didn’t have a cool eraser on her pencils)

A middle school relationship is what I call any relationship built on false hopes and ideas. Not all relationships from 11-14 are like this. I’d say close to 100% are. It’s fine for a young kid to be in a dumb relationship with little meaning. Part of growing up is wasting your time on people you’ll never talk to again after your balls drop. It’s important we go through these bad relationships so that one day we can be aware enough to know we’re in a terrible marriage.

There are a few usual details a “middle school relationship” will have. The first is constant fighting. I don’t get being with someone when all you do is fight. If Pakistan or India could up and move themselves I’m sure they would. They can’t so they kill each other whenever they can. Many adults enter relationships with constant fighting and arguing. I’m not talking about cute bickering either. I’m talking about screaming at the top of your lungs, making all your friends feel uncomfortable fighting. Some people never grow out of this. Of course though, it’s never their fault. They just always fall for the wrong guy.

(“I know Lenny murdered those children but he’d never hurt me…again. And besides, doesn’t he look radiant in orange and behind glass?” – woman justifying being into bad boys)

Another thing I have noticed about middle school relationships is their longevity or lack thereof. Okay that last sentence was worded poorly. I’m not actually out there paying attention to who 12 year olds are kissing. I’m simply saying people who are constantly in short-term relationships still have their minds back in 7th grade. For the benefit of the doubt, sometimes a relationship needs to end quickly and with a guillotine’s force. It’s the constantly getting into the same situation when you need to wonder what you’re doing wrong. What are you probably doing wrong? Being yourself.

A true middle school relationship centers around one thing, the other person. You drop everything you’ve got going on to focus on that other living human being that will one day be dead and never remember a single nice thing you did for them. To steal a Jessica Alba line from a Dane Cook movie “I want to be in your life, I just don’t want to be your life” or something like that. I’m not sure. I was too busy wondering why I was watching a Dane Cook movie listening to Jessica Alba for advice. So many times someone will get into a new relationship and suddenly all they ever do or talk about is their new beau. It’s almost as if their lives did not begin until they met this person. But as Papa Roach says, “Our scars remind us, that the past is real.”

(Now I’m quoting Papa Roach? My vagina better start growing in soon or else I’m seeing a doctor)

Human behavior always interests me, especially when emotions are strong. People with middle school relationship syndrome will be certain this person they’re in a relationship with is the greatest human being ever. They say things like “Nobody understands me like she does”, “When I’m with him it’s like he’s not even there”, or “We can talk for hours up until the early morning hours and never get bored.” I could talk to fucking Santa Claus all night long and never get bored. Does that mean he’s someone special? No. All it means when you can talk to someone for hours is you have good chemistry. This does not mean you are soul mates. It means you should do a Podcast together and annoy as many radio stations as you can with your demo tape. Stop trying to seem divine and special. We both know if you’re up all night every night talking to someone your life is pretty empty because you yourself are empty.

I completely forget what the point I wanted to make in this post was. I simply had “Middle School Relationships” typed up in my Word Document. I spent the day eating almonds and occasionally stretching my legs. In that time somewhere I forgot the main course. Whether or not I said exactly what it was I wanted to say, I made myself clear enough. Many people never grow up when it comes to how they behave in a relationship. I guess that’s why Shakespeare once said “love is a mongoloid emotion, it makes you do dumb things only a complete retard might do.” He of course said it more poetically and in iambic pentameter. In the end there is no valuable lesson to be learned. My apologies if you came here looking for answers.

I never understood drug dealers. I used to always tell myself it was silly to get into a business that always ends with Colombians armed with machine guns coming after you. As I grow older, I understand it more. When I say drug dealer I don’t mean some loser who stands on a corner or deals from the basket in his bike. Street drug dealers are still lame and usually only are doing it to help pay for their own harder drugs they put into their own bodies. What I want to talk about are the big drug dealers; the Tony Montanas, Walter Whites, and Mary Louise Parkers of the world.

(She’s almost 50 and still I want to have babies with her. Not that she probably can anymore. Looks like one less worry for our relationship)

What is it all people have in common? A lust for money. I tell myself time is more important now than money is. It’s been a tough decision. I could easily make more money by working more. The decision I have made is I would rather have time. Some days I have too much time, others barely enough. I worry a lot of young people spend too much time working. Everyone I know under 30 seems to complain constantly about the most easy to fix problems. They’re not giving themselves time to improve or discover anything new in the world. They’ve gotten caught up in the ecstasy of gold.

I’ve decided if I could be anything it would be an outlaw. I would be a bank robber, a purse thief, and a guy who will turn you upside down and shake you for your lunch money. This is my dream that I will probably never do. Robbing banks is tough, I’m embarrassed whenever I am seen holding a lady’s purse, and kids are so fat these days they could probably beat me up. A boy can continue dreaming though. It’s not even the money I would want either. What would I do with money? Buy stuff? I hate owning things. The only reason to own a lot of clutter is because ghosts do not like clutter. I forget where I heard that fact. Have you ever seen a ghost on an episode of hoarders? My proof exactly.

(Not a single ghost. Wait…no. Thought I saw one but it was just more junk this person doesn’t need)

My lust for money does not come from wanting the money. My lust is about the adventure to get the money. I always wondered about old cowboys and what the purpose of robbing trains was. Didn’t a house cost a nickel back then? DVDs, high cost low-fat snacks, and deviated septum surgeries didn’t even exist. What did they need the money for? All cowboys ever spent money on was booze and whores. After a great heist they could easily spend the rest of their days with all the alcohol and sluts they wanted. This is a very simple and happy life. Times may change but a man’s needs never do.

One thing I have heard about detectives is they don’t so much care about protecting and doing the right as much as they enjoy the hunt. Some detectives want to be able to prove to themselves and everyone else that they cannot be outsmarted. I think I’m the same way with money. I don’t really care about having nice things, but I would like to be able to prove to myself and everyone else that I have the capability of making a lot. I could take the easy way out of course. I could focus all my time and energy and try to become a doctor or a lawyer. I could sacrifice my formidable years and follow down the path of those jobs. I won’t though because doctors have to look at infected genitalia and lawyers have the compassion of infected genitalia.

(Is he bribing the witness with a new wallet with the tag still on it while the old lady judge falls asleep?)

My life goal is simple; make as much money as possible by doing the least amount of work possible. This may sound incredibly lazy but you’re taking it the wrong way. If I could get a job I love to do and make loads of cash doing so then fantastic. Even if I don’t end up making a ton at least I’m doing something I love to do and that’s worth more than any treasure chest filled with gold. It’s about the adventure in getting to the top. Who wants to be an early success? Your life will inevitably be on a downward slope.