Posts Tagged ‘list’

When a bee is born it is a baby. Some babybees, however, even as adults maintain the babybee title.

I am a babybee and I actually have a babybee of my own. My babybee is great and here are 22 reasons why because it is 11 twice.

1) My babybee is great because she has lots of talents. I’m amazed sometimes by how much she can do. First she learned how to sing, then she learned how to draw, then it was dance, and finally it was figuring out how to write. I’m not sure which of these is the best because my babybee can do them all. This counts as one, however, I will include more on each.

2) My favorite song of my babybee is the Babybee Song. It’s best used for birthdays and reminding people about the size of their genital. My babybee actually won a competition singing Carol of the Bells; you know, the song the Trans Siberian Orchestra made popular.

3) Drawing may actually be my favorite thing the babybee can do. I suck at drawing so I appreciate it when I see very good art, particularly when it’s of people or dogs I care about.

photo (2)

(How many people can say strangers have their artwork hanging on their walls?)

4) The dancing isn’t something I have seen my babybee do very much. Since I am already an expert dancer, I’m not sure how impressed I would be with anything my babybee can do. At the same time, I know by now there are no limits to what she can.

5) Finally there’s writing, which I know for a fact is something my babybee is very passionate about. This might be the one thing my babybee has most in common with me, especially since my babybee knows very little about sports. I should hate her for that though, right?

6) Combined with all of these skills, the babybee’s talents are limitless. Her only flaw might be her jealousy of smelly fat men pretending to be Indian women, but that’s okay. Nobody is perfect although she’s pretty close and would say I am too.


(Actor Dennis Farina makes babybee jealous she is so silly)

7) Aside from her many talents, babybee is the perfect partner for making fun of everyone. Sometimes it gets really cruel to the point where if anyone else found out the way we speak about them, we’d only have each other. But that’s okay because then we’d be two bees in a pod and there’s no better thought in the entire world than this.

8) At this point I have been writing this in non-list form and just putting a number in front of each paragraph. For number 8, I would like to mention how forgiving and accepting my babybee is and let you know the rest of this list will be a little more traditional.

9) Babybee is not judgmental even when I eat two Medi-wraps, protein bars, and a giant Snapple (what are those?).


(Now stop asking)

10) Babybee is very supportive and reads about baseball and lets me cuddle with my baseball with my hip without getting too angry.

11) Babybee knows not to make sound effects whenever I drink water because I will choke from laughing.

12) Babybee stays up late and sacrifices precious sleep–usually for me! Even I wouldn’t do this because I am nowhere near as great as Babybee.

13) Babybee makes me really long books of cartoons and lets me keep them even though it would mean owning another blank notebook without lines!!!

blank pages

(Babybee porn)

14) Babybee doesn’t need expensive jewelry, clothes, or shoes. She doesn’t even wear makeup yet she’s as adorable as a micropenis. Shit, I’d call her as beautiful as a butt!

15) Babybee always has good TV show and movie recommendations.


(If only Lucy Liu was there)

16) Babybee is second most logical person I know after me. She’s also the second biggest piggy after me which makes things perfect.

17) Babybee can always make me laugh even though she is a woman.

18) Babybee has the best declarations ever.

19) Babybee can deadlift 80 pounds on the first try. She is such a Pac-Woman.


(Maybe one day she can be this beautiful)

20) Babybee is good complimenter/liar. I haven’t decided yet.

21) Babybee understands everything I tell her with the exception of one joke about boobs.

22) Babybee would be a good mama even if she makes mama face at our babybee someday.


I could go on further about how great babybee is. Did I even mention DF? Or candies? Or the Spiro treatments? I didn’t. There’s those.

There’s too much to mention about babybee and what a great human-being she is for one post. She has saved lives for fuck sake! Speaking of fuck, if babybee was here right now she’d probably say:

enough romance lets fuck

The babybee has spoken. Thank you for being you.

rollins 11

Let the 11 continue to roll on :3

In the mid-2000s MySpace was the most popular place to hangout. The social networking website turned what could have been fully functioning social adults into mindless drones afraid to leave their house on the weekend. I am one of those drones and I miss the good old days of MySpace. Facebook never quite lived up to the wonders MySpace provided me in life. Twitter is too simple and pointless while Tumblr needs that missing vowel to earn my respect. The days of MySpace are over and there are five specific things I miss about it most compared to the website I feel killed it off, Facebook.

tom myspace

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who thought that MySpace Tom was giving a thumb up only to later realize it was an illusion from the shadows)

1) The ability to meet new people

Facebook’s privacy settings are so strong that I originally made my account to help a friend stalk his ex-girlfriend to see what she was up to. MySpace was not like this, at least not at first. Of course after a while the privacy settings went up after people were concerned their bosses would find out that they were avid drug users. Because of this, Facebook makes it nearly impossible to make new friends without seeming like a creep. My MySpace profile was so ingenious that I would have random people adding me on an almost daily basis. They got to see my creative side and were legitimate fans of my nonsense. Facebook is now more of a site for adding people you already met in person. I never meet people in person and when I do I never remember their names anyway so we kind of go our separate ways after a night of fun. Facebook makes real-life relationships more like one-night stands whereas MySpace opened it up to the possibility of friends with benefits, a continuous relationship.

2) The ability showcase your talents

Facebook does not having a blogging system in place, one of my favorite MySpace features that people seemed to sometimes care about. MySpace gave me so many chances to be silly and unlike a Facebook status, they didn’t disappear into oblivion after a few days. My favorite thing about MySpace was filling out surveys with ridiculous answers then enjoying the praise I got after. Facebook does have the “notes” option, something that few people use and even fewer ever read. Bands were easily able to put up songs while the rest of us were able to put up music we liked, showcasing how great our taste in music was. Comedians too were able to upload the dates they would be performing. Things were so simple and MySpace acted as a website for many talented people to show off. It’s like that again with the new structure, but nobody uses MySpace outside of a couple of people who are so far behind they still haven’t heard that the Mayans were wrong about their 2012 apocalypse prediction.

3) Less personality on Facebook

I’m not the world’s most attractive person. Granted I could probably bribe my way into winning an office pool for “best-looking” and it not surprise too many people. My personality is what has always gotten me by in life and Facebook makes it shallower, where I am judged more on my face than anything else. I hate being judged by my face. I have to dehydrate myself just to get cheekbones. At any given time I have at least two rashes that if left to grow form a Pangaea by the end of the week. I loved on MySpace when I could find out the ugly girl in math class had a great sense of humor or that the guy all of the girls fawned over couldn’t put together a complete sentence if his life depended on it. Facebook is boring and without the ability to meet new and interesting people, it’s just a rehash of all of the boring people I know in real life.

4) Less danger on Facebook

As much as some overprotective parents assumed MySpace was filled with perverts, pimps, and prostitutes, the truth is the majority of users were like you and me. MySpace always did have a slight sense of danger around it, but so does driving a car. I think we have all met at least one person in real life that we had originally started talking to through MySpace. Sometimes these people actually led to real relationships, some lasting much longer than others. I miss the sense of danger MySpace gave me. Facebook is so safe that whenever I add a girl I don’t know she can immediately delete me before asking who I am. The Internet used to be the Wild West and now it’s more like the Wild Wild West film starring Will Smith, incredibly disappointing.

5) Celebrity encounters, real and fake

Very few celebrities actually use Facebook under true profiles. Why bother? There is a friend limit and does Miranda Cosgrove really need the self-confidence that comes whenever someone likes her status? She had a show about having a show. The girl has self-esteem shooting out all over the place. On MySpace I would add celebrities all of the time, mostly stand-up comedians because they were the most accessible and relatable. Many of them would actually send me messages, one telling me to stop posting so many bulletins. The best was whenever they would respond unsolicited. I had one comedian actually read a bulletin I posted about making my stand-up comedy debut and he actually wished me luck. In addition to the real profiles, I liked the fake ones too. Seeing fake profiles that made celebrities look like morons, jerks, or anything else satirical was something that always made me laugh. Facebook is pretty strict about using your real name and most fake profiles are deleted. Of course with Twitter you can still follow celebrities, but for me it’s not the same. MySpace was so much better.

Here’s another old thing I wrote which contains a long list of things. It’s a sarcastic way to instruct people on how to succeed at a job interview.

Ten Tips for Job Interview Success

1) Don’t Show Up: The most obvious way to not fail at a job interview, don’t bother trying. People may try to get in your ear and say the opposite. They will argue that you cannot succeed unless you try. Glass half full attitudes make me thirsty. If you think of it as a glass half empty then you will realize sooner that you need to refill your beverage. So don’t bother showing up once you get the appointment. It shows the company that you didn’t need their stinking money anyway.

2) Change Your Last Name: Changing your last name can help in a job interview. I recommend changing your last name to whoever the most popular reality television show star is at the time. For two months in 2003 I used the last name “Fairplay” to capitalize on Survivor villain Johnny Fairplay’s fifteen minutes. For non-reality fans, I suggest changing your first and last name to match the current president. When they joke about being related to the president, claim to be him.

3) Dress Provocatively: Business suits are so 1900s. We are living in a new millennium. Whenever I go to a job interview I make sure the interviewer can see as much of my body as possible. This not only showcases my strength, it lets them know I am willing to do anything to get the job, including wearing a speedo. For those living in colder climates, stick with a leather gimp suit. It gets the message across and lets the potential employer know you can dress yourself appropriately for the weather.

4) Talk Loud: When you speak loudly you present yourself as authoritative. In the business world people love authority. They bow to it. It’s important that in the job interview you talk at least two decibels louder than the person conducting the interview. How do you know your decibel range? Buy a measuring device, wear it, and ask the interviewer to wear one too for an accurate reading.

5) Print Your Resume on Large Paper: The bigger, the better. If you have the means, print out your resume on a life-size cardboard cutout of yourself. Keep your face wordless. This is a guaranteed way to stand out and helps them match face to words. It’s also helpful if your resume has at least three swear words. The employer will have to take a risk on, purely out of curiosity.

6) Check Your Phone Often: When you show up to a job interview, make it clear to the potential employer that you are in high demand. Even if nobody is actually calling, answer your phone anyway. Use words like “sell” and refer to whoever is on the other end as “baby.” The only time I would not recommend doing this is if your phone is prepaid. They will assume you are most likely a drug dealer and nobody wants to hire a drug dealer, except for people who want drugs dealt to them.

7) Offer Them Lunch: Everybody loves having food made for them. The only exception might be for Emperor Hui of Jin China, who died of an alleged poisoning. The best lunch to offer a potential employer is a homemade one. I suggest something light that travels well, like bratwurst. You know, anything universally loved.

8) Blackmail: Need I say more? Get creative though. Employers love creative blackmail.

9) Repeat Everything: No matter what the person conducting the interview says, repeat it. They will either believe you have so much in common that they have to hire you or they will be so confused that they will have to hire you for answers. Either way, you will have a job. Then you should probably quit. Playing hard to get is good when it comes to job hunting.

10) Lie: Does anybody ever fully tell the truth during a job interview? Am I a legal citizen? Of course not. Born in Ottawa baby! Have I ever been convicted of a crime? Yes. Why do you think I had to flee from Ottawa? Do I agree to follow all of the rules in the employee manual? Maybe half. You can’t go around telling the truth at a job interview if you want to get hired. The real key to successfully lying is to lie about everything. If you lie about everything all of the time then you don’t have to remember anything, or however the quote goes.


(“Your resume says you’re African-American….which is it? African or American?” – potential employer)

Remember when I was a real eager go-getter and spent a lot of time writing lengthy books nobody really gave a damn about? Well, here’s something I wrote for Yahoo that earned more money than I think I made in the first 3 months of self-publishing books! So the lesson to be learned here is that nobody gives a damn and you are better off selling out and writing for something corporate. And in a twist of being pushy, you can get a copy of the last book I self-published for free through the rest of the month beginning tomorrow after I post this. So if you happen to read this on Tuesday, come back tomorrow and get a free copy of this amazing book I put a lot of effort into.

Five Heartbreaking Moments From Self-Publishing

Self-publishing a novel can be incredibly rewarding. It’s a way to surpass agents and constant rejection from query letters. Best of all, you have final say in your masterpiece. After I self-published my first novel I thought for sure there would be only positive moments to follow. Then I waited a week and realized the heartbreak continues. Here are five things you should prepare your heart for when it comes to self-publishing.

1) Copies Sold: The biggest part of writing a book is how many copies it sells. You can write a masterpiece, but if nobody buys it then that means nobody is reading it. If nobody is reading it then what was the point? It’s like keeping the Mona Lisa as a bath mat in the guest bathroom of someone who never has anyone over. After self-publishing, it took a few months before I accepted I may never write a book that sells a million copies. I took it hard because I already made a down payment on a yacht made of pure gold.

2) Refunds: It feels great when you sell a book, especially when you know it’s to a complete stranger. Sometimes these strangers will purchase the book then ask for a refund. Why? Why did you want your money back for my product I poured my heart into? On certain self-publishing services you can see why they asked for a refund. My first refund someone reported their credit card stolen. As much as I hate thieves, I must say this one has good taste. When people ask for a refund the author is often left wondering if it was because the product didn’t meet expectations or if the purchaser bought the wrong thing. People are always buying the wrong thing. My dad bought us barbecue sauce thinking it was ketchup for five years. We were all too afraid of him to ever say anything.

3) Reviews: Many independent authors rely on the reviews above anything else. When you are essentially unrecognizable to the public, a good review can convince someone to buy your book instead of passing it over for vampire erotica. A good key to reviews is to have your friends and family leave the first ones, without of course making it too obvious that you know each other. It’s inevitable that eventually a bitter troll will come along, read your book, and then leave a negative review. When they do, get ready to cry and think about giving up on your dreams. Never give up on your dreams though, unless you are older than 35. After that they probably never will come true.

4) Typos/Errors: When you write long-form it can be a lot more difficult to properly edit. English is a language with so many strange rules that sometimes are acceptable and sometimes are not. It starts with the whole letter Y sometimes being a vowel. Shouldn’t it just always be a vowel? After you publish your book you may read through it and suddenly find a very obvious error. To avoid this you can always have your book professionally edited. Usually though the cost of paying an editor will far exceed the amount you will make from sales. You have to determine whether it’s worth it or not. Hopefully you can find intelligent friends to help find any errors in your writing willing to do it for the price of your friendship. Seriously. Threatening to never talk to someone ever again if they don’t help you out is a great loyalty test.

5) Does Anybody Like It?: By far the most important thing is whether or not anybody actually likes the book. You can be a fantastic writer forever, but if you cannot tell an original and captivating story that meets the reader’s expectations then you have failed. Do people like the books I have self-published? I have no idea. I am still not sure if many people even like me. The most rewarding thing that can happen to you after you self-publish a novel is when someone out of the blue mentions they read your work. Most people are genuinely nice and if they bring it up unsolicited it usually means they enjoyed what they read. Then they ask you for a favor and you remember why you wrote a character based on them who gets killed.

Child with learning difficulties

(People with ADD never dwell on the past. It’s beautiful in some ways really…until they start screaming for no reason at all)

I have made it no secret how much I love food. I have seen sandwiches I wanted to have sex with. Other than Swiss cheese or a bagel I’m not sure how one would go about doing “it” with food. I guess you could stick just about anything up your butt. Then there’s the whole question on how lesbians have sex. I’m not going to get into that. If I question someone’s lifestyle or how they go about things I will seem insensitive. I’ve lived long enough to know you’re better off being lost than asking questions so you understand things better. Scissoring aside, there are a few edible items however that I do not have much love for. Believe it or not, there are some foods I think are bad.

Ham: I do not like ham. It’s the only animal flesh I get a little sick thinking about. Hamburgers are great but it’s plain ham that grosses me out. It’s salty, pink, and I imagine it to be the way a tire might taste. What’s wrong with eating turkey on the holidays? Turkeys are much more obnoxious than pigs, let’s kill them and feast instead. I also seem to be the only person on earth who doesn’t like bacon. I think hot dogs are wonderful so it’s not my inner Muslim coming out. If you ever have me over for dinner and want me to go home hungry, serve up some ham.

(What fat kid ever would agree to be called Ham? Not only is it dead flesh, it comes from the token lazy fat animal, the pig. Maybe this is why Patrick Renna grew up to be a Scientologist)

Fried Calamari: There was a point when I loved fried calamari. It lasted about two months and now I literally want to throw up whenever I think about it. I would actually leave me house to get fried calamari from a local fish place. That’s right, when my parents were still providing me with groceries I would leave the home and spend my own money for food I loved it so much. I think what happened was I ate too much of it. The creepiest thing is this was the kind of calamari that looks like calamari, with the creepy legs and such. I’ve heard the average person eats 10 spiders a year while sleeping. Eating fried calamari is like eating two dozen giant spiders in one sitting.

(Fry this up and call it calamari. No one will notice the difference because people who eat so many fried foods are in denial about way too much already)

Spaghetti: I don’t hate spaghetti by any stretch. If someone handed me a bowl of spaghetti I would eat it no problem. I just think it’s a very overrated food is all. Baked ziti is where it’s at. You can put a piece of baked ziti into your mouth, blow into it, and a whistling sound will come out. I know, badass right? I know I’m going to sound like a dirty Guinea here but my mom made the best baked ziti with meat sauce. Eating plain spaghetti feels like you’re eating pure future bottom of the stomach fat. When I eat I like to at least give my body a shot at not getting fatter.

Ribs: Again, I don’t mind ribs but I really do mind having incredibly messy fingers. Chicken wings are different. I could eat chicken wings until the cows come home then laugh about how all the chickens were slaughtered so I had an appetizer to dip into my bleu cheese. I think I ate ribs once at a barbecue. It was in 2008 when everyone had Obama-mania. Ribs were all anybody had.

(Do you know how I know God isn’t black? He didn’t dip Eve in barbecue sauce)

Those Orange and Green Fruits in a Fruit Salad: Don’t you hate those fuckers at the bottom of a fruit salad? Fuckers is the only thing I know to call them. They’re some kind of melon. The worst thing about them I believe is they are the first thing the evil fruit salad creators put into the container. They’re always at the bottom so that way you buy your fruit salad thinking you’ve just got delicious blueberries, strawberries, kiwis, and watermelon. Then you get to the bottom and see these assholes sitting there completely tasteless. I don’t waste food very often but sometimes I will toss these out my car window.

Seltzer: It’s not food but Seltzer sucks. They try to give it flavors so you’re tricked into thinking you’re drinking more than disgusting flavored water. How about you just piss in my mouth instead? My sister once said at Six Flags that she was so thirsty she would drink Seltzer. I guess it’s an acquired taste that comes from having terrible DNA.

(One of the first pictures that came up when typing “Seltzer Fan” into Google. not only does he look like this, he’s waiting to see Vampires Suck, a film by Aaron Seltzer. Yuck)

Walnuts: I have had a nut obsession these last few months. I’ve been eating peanuts or almonds for lunch and every so often I’ll get pistachios to pull apart while I take a bath. I tried walnuts because I’m a fan of nuts and also think walls are very important. I was very disappointed. Walnuts taste like old people fingers. I have never tasted old people fingers in this lifetime but a psychic once took $10 from me and said I had tasted them in my past life. Wet walnuts are wonderful though because they’re smothered in a disgusting high fructose corn syrup ejaculate. Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of eating a healthy nut? It’s like those people we know who go to the gym 5 days a week and eat like shit. Has it ever occurred to them to maybe skip a few desserts and they’d actually see results?

How about you, what are some foods you hate? Don’t say cheese. I eat cheese by the block.

I’m not everything I want to be. I tried joining the marines last week. I heard they help you be all you can be. They stripped me down naked then told me to stay away, I was not military material. I think about all the potential I could have been in life if things were different. Here are some answers to those ifs. What I would do and such in these situations.

1. If I was tall I would look overtop the bathroom stalls to see if they were occupied. I would smile at whoever was taking a shit or too shy to use the urinal.

2. If I was short I would run underneath people’s legs like I was being chased. They would look back to see who was chasing me. While they are looking back I will push them over for being so much taller than I am.

3. If I was extremely wealthy I would contact the media and tell them I will be tossing money down from a tall building. People will show up and I will drop pianos instead. This will teach them that money does not buy happiness.

4. If I was in really good shape I would be really mean to everyone I met. When they tell me to stop I will ask them to feel my biceps.

5. If I found out I was the second coming of Jesus I would sell my poop on ebay and my farts to cults.

6. If I was black I would always say “Where the white women at?” whenever I enter a room. I actually do this already. People might not tell me to leave though if I was black.

7. If I was allergy free I would sniff flowers more often. Since I am not allergy free I will continue to stomp on every daisy I see whether in a garden or a flower boutique.

8. If I was a professional athlete I would sign a huge contract then say my hamstrings always hurt. Being a professional athlete takes too much work.

9. If I could eat whatever I wanted without gaining weight I would eat nothing but pizza and donuts. I would still count calories though. Mostly to brag to others how much I can eat without gaining weight. I might also eat Oreos too.

10. If I was gay I would tell women I wasn’t gay, have sex with them, and then tell them I am gay now. They will forever feel like they turned me gay. I would laugh about this with my gay friends then complain how we don’t have equal rights non-stop.

11. If my name was Lance I probably would be gay. I would do everything my being gay plan would entail, but this time my name would be Lance.

12. If I was living in Hawaii I would get a janitorial job. Sure, I have to clean up vomit and poop. It’s Hawaiian vomit and poop. Something about it sparkles.

13. If I had musical talent I would start a band. All of my friends would tell me how great I am even though none ever go to my shows.

14. If I won a Nobel Peace Prize I would kill a lot of people the day after. Not everyone though. Enough people need to remain alive to appreciate the irony.

15. If I lost my arm in a surfing accident I would challenge the Soul Surfer chick to a fight. I would be sure to save my missing arm and use it like a club. Her arm was made into shark poop. I wonder if she thinks about that. A shark pooped out her arm.

16. If I had my own talk show I would let everyone I know be guests. You will all have to show up for the first episode. I don’t see it lasting much longer than that with this plan.

17. If I had a really big nose I would ask everyone if they thought my nose was big. When they said “No” I would violently call them liars then push them over.

18. If I could ride any animal it would be a dinosaur. It doesn’t matter what type.

19. If I was incredibly fat I would never leave the house. After a while I will realize this is no way to live. I will then get a job as a house.

20. If I was homeless I would be an angry homeless person who tells offensive jokes. The police will lock me up in jail. At least then I wouldn’t be homeless anymore.

21. If I was more courageous I would join a yoga class and hit on the instructor. My pick-up line would be “Hey, I bet I can stretch you out somewhere else.”

22. If I’m not turned down by the yoga instructor then things will be really good. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who does yoga let alone someone who makes up the moves on the fly like instructors do.

23. If I found out the meaning of life and I would die if I told anyone I would die anyway because I hate not being able to gossip.

24. If I could have any super power it would be to have the ability to reach into a magazine and pull out whatever is in the magazine. I will also have a lot of sexual harassment lawsuits against me.

25. If I ever get to be a father someday I want to be there for my children if they become successful and rich. Otherwise I’m going to blame the woman for giving too much of her DNA into the mix.

What are some of your ifs?

Most of my positive memories from my days in school involved the teachers sitting us down and explaining to us how one of their coworkers has passed away and that we will no longer be learning about punctuation. I mean, yeah it’s sad a little old woman had to die, but I’m really struggling with proper placement of a semicolon. Her death was not in vain. Death aside, I also enjoyed field trips. The days where you got credit for attendance yet spent most of the day eating ice cream. Oh childhood. When calories did not count and girls hated you for who you were, not what you looked like.

Kindergarten: I remember one field trip in kindergarten. It was to a milk farm. Or maybe it was to a dairy factory. Something with cows. My mom loved cows. She’d joke that was why she loved her chubby son (me) so much then she’d take away my asparagus and replace it with a root beer float. I don’t remember much of this field trip. My mom chaperoned and she was pissed I had chosen the infamous Michael Barbera into my group along with a class bully. I learned a lot that day. For instance, my mom was capable of muttering murderous phrases about other children.

(Asparagus even hates asparagus. They have to be tied together so the other pieces don’t run off)

First Grade: The first grade class got to take a trip to the Philadelphia Zoo this year. Again, I don’t remember a thing about the actual trip. I think I remember the earlier mentioned bully telling us how his brother was responsible for burning down the monkey house a few months earlier. You can never go wrong with a trip to the zoo. Kids loving looking at animals smarter than they are.

(He may play with recycling bins, yet he is still smarter than a 1st grader)

Second Grade: I know we went somewhere this year. That was a requirement for each grade. My memory I guess has faded. I did get invited to a karate themed birthday party which was fun, I guess. I made friends with the new Puerto Rican kid in class. Or was he Mexican? What type of Spanish is it when you don’t want them dating your daughter but you don’t fear for your life around them? I’m pretty sure I remember the actual bus drive to wherever it was we went. Everyone was singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Our teacher, Mrs. Brandle, suggested we replace the beer with something else like juice. We met half way and sang about “99 Severed Mrs. Brandle Heads on the Wall.” Hey, at least it wasn’t alcohol.

(If we understood physics or the pully system, Mrs. Brandle most assuredly would be pictured here)

Third Grade: Possibly the worst field trip ever. It was a tour of our hometown. Snooze. I hate field trips where they take you to your local park. I could do this on my own time. They showed us a historic lake, an old Victorian house, and an ancient Mega-Mall. This was a field trip where I almost considered faking an asthma attack then getting out of it. I mean I was within walking distance of my home. It wouldn’t have been too big of a hassle for anybody.

(One stop was at a cemetery where a Native American chief and my next door neighbor were buried. It’s like history clashing with present day)

Fourth Grade: I know we went somewhere cool this year, but again, I cannot remember. Yet I remember a cute girl in the class talking to me about some story and asking me if I remembered it. I lied and said I did. Then the bad black kid in the class said he wanted to look at her poop. The retarded girl in my class also said I looked like a “baby” when sipping from my water bottle. The girl who grew up to be a lesbian took it that she said I looked like a babe then teased I had a retarded girl with a crush on me. Fourth grade was a fun year of school. One time I got an F on a test and the teacher said “You looked sick that day. I won’t count it.” I wish that still worked. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’d murder with an ice pack strapped to my forehead.

(Being able to lift your arm that high means you’re not sick. Kick this faker out of your establishment please)

Fifth Grade: Our trip this year was to Six Flags: Great Adventure and it was a great adventure! I had to lie to my teacher and say my sister could not chaperone with more children than myself because she hated kids. The guy was my friend, but he was also very effeminate. Purple sweat pants. Really? Are you a pregnant gym teacher? The way you got to be on this field trip was by being a member of the “Safety Patrol.” We wore orange sashes and did our due-diligence to make the school a safe place. My job was to collect milk money during lunch. Or it was to collect morning attendance. I’m not sure. A girl with a pig nose did it instead.

(Pig Nose and her brother, Pig Nose, held me down and tried to turn me into one of them. But remember, beauty is in the eye of the beholder)

Sixth Grade: I don’t think we went anywhere this year. That’s probably a lie. I hated sixth grade. I had to stab kids in the wrist with pens just to survive. His best friend committed suicide some years later. Maybe this was some Socrates-like way of him taking his own life before I could stab him with a pen. Or I’m reaching here. (Wait I remembered now what it was! It was a camping trip. I’ll write about that another time when a few more of my bunkmates pass away and I can reveal the horrible things that happened).

(I’m Keanu Reeves in this photo, the dead kid is Socrates, and I guess Alex Winter is Alex Winter. No one wants to be Alex Winter)

Seventh Grade: I remember going on two field trips this year. One was to an authentic Japanese Hibachi restaurant located between a car dealership and a gas station. Whilst quoting The Simpsons a hot girl asked me if I said lark. “No. I said bark.” I responded telling the truth. We didn’t talk for 4 years when she was telling me to get out of her way. The other field trip was to the Philadelphia Zoo. Yeah, again. This was more fun even though I don’t remember doing much animal watching. It was more about taking pictures of ourselves humping gorilla and turtle statues. Another hot girl in the class had to run to catch the bus. If she had breasts it would have been like a seen out of Baywatch. Instead it was like a caterpillar moving swiftly.

(Not to sound gay, but they couldn’t find a single actor in the early 90s with abs?)

Tenth Grade: I don’t remember going anywhere in eighth or ninth grade. By that point they were charging us quite a bit of money for the field trips and I’d just stay home from school. Tenth grade though my English teacher took us into Philadelphia to see a play of Julius Caesar. All I remember was a man with a bearskin rug on his head saying “Beware the Ides of March” in a spooky voice. The play was pretty boring. I think someone threw a Swedish Fish at me. I don’t blame them. I do look like someone who enjoys a nice piece of Swedish Fish. If only they hit me in the mouth instead of in the back of the head.

(My teeth actually hurt looking at this picture)

Where were your field trips to?

I like to look at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I take my shirt off and flex, snap a photo, and put it on Facebook for some girl with big purple lips to say how “sexxi” I am. If you spell sexy like that, you’re probably not. I’m joshing you of course. Never do I snap a photo of myself flexing in front of the mirror. Sure, sometimes I like to show off Princess and Her Majesty (my arms) to a willing crowd (myself). It doesn’t make me a bad person. A bad person would take pictures. That’s what separates us from the true d-bags in the world.

I’m not here to talk about people who show off their bodies. I would simply say that I’m jealous of them and that they’re insecure of their weak personalities and that’s why things are exactly the way they are. I would like to talk about those things they have at the stores known as self-checkout. They make teenagers obsolete. No longer will I be embarrassed to buy hemorrhoid cream and pudding in one trip. I won’t have some ghetto girl in plastic gloves copping an attitude with me because I smell funny. I love self-checkouts. What I don’t like are the other people who love them.

Never can I go to one of these awesome inventions and have things run smoothly. Like I mentioned, it’s the people who ruin it. I know, how’s that different from anything else? People ruin everything. Here’s a quick rundown of the people I seem to always encounter at the self-checkout.

Foreigners – Could it be that they choose to get their groceries through self-checkout because they’re so amazed by American technology? Probably not. I have a feeling it’s because they’re so stuck-up they’d rather not interact or have to speak English. This is America! We speak American here. Foreigners are wonderful until it involves money or kindness. I don’t blame them either. I’d be a dick if I was in Uruguay too. I’d be confused and not tip the waitresses then argue with them about prices. Here’s a tip, if you’re in a foreign country, don’t trust a foreign computer. At least a person can feel bad or add “o” to the end of every word and at least passably speak your language.

(As much as I love her, I would hate to be behind Malin Akerman when purchasing a tub of Greek Yogurt)

Moms – I only know these women are moms because of the vagina demons circling around her pulling candy bars off the shelf and having me fart in their faces. Seriously, I’ve never farted in a child’s face on purpose. One time I did when I didn’t see her behind me. She didn’t say anything. I think she was a mute. She also had both fingers up her nose so it was almost impossible to smell a thing. There are few places that I like to see children at. One of the last is in line in front of me. Do kids really ever die in cars from the heat? I remember being left in the car all the time when I was younger. I’d ask to be. I didn’t want to be a problem. I can’t really blame the mommies for being such a nuisance. They had to have sex with their husbands on his birthday 4 years ago which spawned this problem. Keep your kids at home. I need to buy my granola bars as fast as possible.

(So much goodness and only 90 calories! Get your dumb kids out of my way so I can eat the whole pack and justify it by saying it’s only 540 calories)

Old People – They’re not much different from children. I still like old people more than most other majority groups. One time at a grocery store recently I joked with an old woman about lines. I said “Wow this line is taking forever” and she said “That’s what you get one you hire a dark boy to do the job.” To be fair she was from a different generation. And he was pretty damn dark. The kind of dark where he’s never gotten fudge on his hands and thought “Well how do I solve this problem?” like I have so many times before. The downfall of all old people is their slowness. They have to get right up to the touch screens to advance forward. I have some sympathy for them because what they’re buying might be the last thing they ever buy. If they’re murdered by a family member who thinks of them as a burden, that receipt might be used as evidence.

(If Charles Degaulle was still alive he would be really old)

Couples – I hate seeing happy couples doing anything. That’s the only reason I’m ever nice to my girlfriend in public. I want to make other people feel my anguish. Better than the happy couples are the arguing ones. I argue with my girlfriend all the time at the self-checkout. She always lifts up the bag early. Then the robot chick voice says not to. She used to work at a grocery store and she should really know the rules. I need to hit her more. Jog her memory that there’s a system in place. I guess couples are usually pretty efficient when it comes to scanning their own groceries. They’re only ever annoying when they’re better looking than me and I have to go home to eat packaged sushi alone.

(This picture infuriates me. I really hope it was taken on Omaha Beach right before the allies landed)

Groups – All groups of people are horrific. I don’t care what color, religion, or dick size they are. You put people together and they have reasons to lie and impress. The worst group of all are people under a certain age. I can’t really put an exact number on it, but if you’re someone who divvies up a small bill or you all get in line and have to buy your packs of gum separately then you’re a problem. If I was ever a waiter and some group of community college kids tried handing me 8 different credit cards and some cash I would pull an antique movie poster off the wall and snap it over their faces. I know “money is tight” and “everyone has to pitch in” but you knew you were going to end up at Applebee’s. You always end up at Applebee’s. Can’t you get a better system going? Like finding a new group of friends that you actually have something in common with besides living on the same street as.

(Please be pledging a suicide pact)

Indecisive People – If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s murdering children. After that it’s people who can’t decide if they will murder children or not. Make a decision! Sometimes I’ll be standing in line at the self-checkout and a woman with a weird hat on will be unsure if one of the registers is open. Check stupid. I’m not going to cut in front of you. I’m enjoying the view of your ass. You can go look and see that it’s not working then come back and in a joking way say “Thought it was open!” then I can laugh because it would be awkward not to laugh. Sometimes I’ll reply with “I’ve done that before” hoping that you invite me back to share a nap with you. But that never happens. You should be mean to everyone you meet. What the hell do they do for you anyway?

(So many choices! I think I’ll get one of those famous $3 Pizza Hut candy bars that everyone always raves about)

We all have them. Unless you’re a machinist. They’re called fingers. Those little dingle dangle things coming out of your hands. A normal person has 10. 5 on each hand. I am normal. I have 10 fabulous fingers. Lets go over each of them because I don’t feel like making you think hard today.

The first finger on most people’s hands is the thumb. Some argue that the thumb is not a finger. I poke them in the eye with my thumb and they say “get that finger out of my face.” I win those arguments. As humans, we’re the only species with the opposable thumb. It helps us grip things. The thumb is also useful when telling someone who you liked a movie or if you’re a Roman emperor and want to see a gladiator killed. When the thumb is aimed up it is good. Down is bad. A sideways thumb means nothing. It probably should have some meaning. How about it means “you look good today.” We need more hand signals that are compliments. They all seem to mean fuck you. Lets do this. Lets start the sideways thumb.

Next on the hand is the index finger. Children call their index fingers pointers. It’s because they use their finger to do just that, point. I learned at a young age not to point. It’s impolite. I was at an Indian Reservation and the chaperone’s son pointed and said “Look, an Indian.” His mother slapped him and said “Don’t point. That’s not nice.” How else was I supposed to know where the savage was? I probably use my index finger more than any other. It’s perfect for poking and picking. Don’t forget scratching. I’m a very itchy person. If I had to cut off one finger, it wouldn’t be my index finger. I’d never be able to shush anybody anymore.

Then we get to everybody’s favorite finger, the middle finger. The big motherfucker of fingers. You lift up this one by itself and you’re starting up a storm of shit. I rarely flip people the bird. Mostly in the car or when their back is turned. On the school bus years ago, a kid who is now a professional baseball player put his two middle fingers up in the air and crossed them. His brother said “Don’t do that. That means fuck everybody.” He did it again. Moral of the story, athletes are douche bags who don’t care about any of us, even when they’re 5 years old.

The ring finger is quite possibly the strangest named finger. It’s like saying the name is irrelevant unless you have a ring on it. That’s kind of true too. It’s hard to move that finger by itself. I guess in a way it’s a second string middle finger. Sometimes people will flip others the ring finger. These people cannot fully commit to telling their enemy to go to hell.

Finally we get to the pinky. The biggest wimp of fingers. I don’t use my pinky for much. There are very few tiny spaces I need to slide a finger into. Ladies in olden days would lift up their pinky to show off how feminine they were. Rich people still do it while drinking tea. Pinkies are very relevant to surfers who do the “hang loose” symbol. Don’t let the name mislead you. Your pinky does not need to be pink. Mine isn’t. I did used to have a freckle near my one pinky that I thought for years was a poop stain. I’d watch my hands nonstop. Now I have asthma and eczema because of my clean living ways.

There are of course people out there with more fingers. I don’t know what the names of these fingers are called. I’m sure they do have one. How do those people shake hands? If I had 6 fingers I would try to get girls to think this gave me some magical talent to give them pleasure. Or I’d learn the piano. You can’t get too many girls by playing the piano so this is an either or situation. I won’t have to worry about that though because I don’t plan on growing a new finger any time soon.

There’s a phrase that goes “turning a blind eye.” I’ve used this phrase once. It was making fun of the “Cataract” Cathy in middle school. She would walk into walls and fall down elevator shafts on a daily basis. I’d call her name and she’d turn to me, thus turning a blind eye.

But that’s not what the phrase is really meant for. It should really be about how we ignore the obvious and let things happen. Even when they’re obvious. Or something like that. Here are some things that happened in history that I think should have been much more obvious. Yet we were all surprised.

-Ellen Degeneres coming out of the closet was huge on her television show whose name escapes me. She wore men’s suits in the 1980s. That’s like a hockey jersey to lesbians. How were we shocked by this? Did we have our heads so far up our heterosexual partner’s ass that we missed out?

-Sticking on a similar subject, writer of Fight Club Chuck Palahniukukuka9hjhfs^ahf (get an easier name to spell) being a homosexual. Fight Club is the gayest movie I have ever seen and I’ve seen the extended version of Caligula where men actually performance oral sex on each other in togas. I was shocked when I found out that Chuckie was gay. I mean, one of the rules of Fight Club is that you can’t wear a shirt. That’s the worst thing about playing a sport. Having to divide into shirts versus skins.

-Adolf Hitler became a terrible dictator much to the world’s surprise. I mean, I guess they knew he was bad. But really, he came into power in like 1933. He didn’t kill himself until 1945. That’s 12 years. It took us that long to realize he was rounding up all the Jews and slaughtering them. Maybe he got away with it because all of the lawyers in town were stuck at Auschwitz. Is that racist? I think it’s more a backhanded compliment that Jewish people are well learned.

-Great as an idea, Communism is something that doesn’t translate into a reality. People are greedy. We found that out with Russian. Then we found that out with Vietnam, North Korea, and all of eastern Europe. I think Marx forgot to add in the chapter about how someone with power would never step down from it to become a commoner. Had he never had to share something in his life?

-Mormons are weird. I mean really weird. Like they make Scientologists seem sane. They believe in polygamy which I guess sounds good on the outside, but I couldn’t imagine having to deal with that many women. Founder of the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, was about 18 years old when he was visited by an angel and told about this whole misadventure. An 18 year old boy was the one who decided that men should be allowed to marry more than one woman! When was the last time an 18-year-old boy had a good idea? I know Justin Bieber has a huge following, but I don’t think any of us are about to start getting advice from him about the afterlife.

-I was about 3 years old when it happened. Actor Paul Reubens who portrayed Pee Wee Herman as caught masturbating in public. Pee Wee Herman has genitalia. None of us realized that. With genitalia, comes huge responsibilities. That genitalia needs to be used. I don’t know why it was shocking that a creepy man who owns a talking chair might want to masturbate in public. It’s not like Pee Wee was religious or anything. Everyone needs to dump a load. Especially when the hottest chick in town is your lesbian mailman.

Open your eyes! The obvious is all around us.