Posts Tagged ‘observations’

Think of your favorite cartoon character. Are you thinking of it? Does this character wear clothes? No? You’re a pervert. If you answered yes, continue on. What kind of clothes does this cartoon character wear? I mean each episode. Because a normal human being would change their clothing. But not a cartoon character. They wear the same damn clothes every damn day. Except sometimes during flashbacks or special occasions. Like that Flinstones episode where Fred had to attend Pebbles’ funeral. That was a real downer but we got to see Fred in a suit. This observation and obsession of mine has made me more aware of the clothing that actual life action humans wear. Freaky thing about this is that sometimes there are real people who dress like cartoons. People who always seem to wear the same thing every day.

(He sure seems chipper to be at his daughter’s funeral. Must have wanted a boy)

The only joke I’ve ever seen in a cartoon about this was on an episode of Doug. Doug, who always wore a green vest with a white shirt underneath, opened up his closet to reveal an entire rack full of the same outfit. In real life, few people own multiple versions of the same outfit. Or do they? I haven’t been in too many closets. That’s where monsters and homosexuals hide. My closet is full of mostly black shirts, but they’re all different. That’s more than certain people can say. People who I would like to ridicule for having inconsistent cycles of clothing wear.

I worry about stupid things. One of my big worries is that someone will notice that I’ve worn the same shirt in the same week. Luckily I don’t have enough quarters to do laundry that consistently. Phew! I also perfected the strategy of throwing on a button up shirt or sweatshirt so that nobody will see that I’m wearing the same thing as yesterday. I don’t do this often, but sometimes I do. You know, for good luck and such. If a rabbit’s foot, a horse shoe, or a coin can be lucky, surely my body odor can be too.

(Clearly the smelly men in this picture are the lucky ones. All that medical school to do this for a living)

To me, the unwritten rule of wearing clothes is don’t get caught looking dirty. Women own so many clothes that if I notice you wear the same thing a lot you’re doing something wrong. Men get a little more leniency. Don’t tell me this is a double-standard. I hate that excuse. Complaining that something is a double-standard is your way of admitting you think what you’re doing is wrong. If it didn’t bother you so much you wouldn’t be trying to justify it. So be comfortable with what a horrible person you are already.

(“If I killed only the French nobody would have minded. Such a double standard” – Charlie Chaplin lookalike winner 1938)

Pants vary from shirts with these laws. I think you can wear pants more often than you can wear a shirt. Why? Well a shirt will touch your gross disgusting body more. At least pants have your underwear to protect your fabric a bit. But the problem with pants is that you need to make sure they’re not a loud pair that you wear more than one day in a row. I know this guy, we’ll call him Sniffy because he always seems to move around a lot like a dog sniffing. He really irks me. I want to smack his nose and tell him to stop moving around. He’s way too young to give the Parkinson’s excuse. And he has neat girlish handwriting so he’s just being a nuisance to me.

(Knock it off! Find a place to shit and be done with it you grape colored dog)

Sniffy wore the same loud obnoxious cranberry colored pants three days in a row. They were the color of red velvet cake. I know I shouldn’t associate another man’s lower half with a delicious dessert, but that’s what it made me think of. What kind of man buys cranberry jeans? It’s the same shade as the rope at the movie theater and probably felt as soft. I don’t know. I’m not about to ask to rub his knees to find out. He has another pair whose color reminds me of a mermaid’s fin. They’re a very soft solid blue. My reasoning for noticing his pants so much is that I have bad eyesight and see colors stronger than anything else. I will also claim that I sit low in my chair and my eyes are around crotch level. Making eye contact is a strain on my neck. I have to keep it level. It’s not like I know the fly on each of these pants is silver-colored–

I’ve known two other people who always wore the same sweatshirt. Every day. All times of the year. The same exact outfit. Both these guys were pretty weird in general so I guess that wasn’t a concern of theirs. Even if it’s not the same shirt, you need some sort of rotation. I once kept track of a friend’s shirts and how often he would wear them. It took only about a month before I realized a pattern. Certain shirts were worn early in the week while others were purely bought for weekend purposes. He probably secretly called them his party shirts. I know I would. Super Mario fist pumping is the definition of a party.

(This should screams “I don’t live with my mother, she lives with me”)

What is your strategy to make sure you don’t wear the same thing every time you see a certain person? Please note that wearing something you don’t like that your grandmother gave you every time you see her doesn’t count. That’s not gross. That’s trying to make an old hag smile at her awful gift idea.

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.

I know that nobody named Brittany or any of the other variations of the name will ever read this. Well, maybe. I should never say never. That’s a James Bond film, right? Never Say Never. It sounds like it. Or a lousy band at the very least. They’d open up for Avenged Sevenfold or another band that I see t-shirts of and don’t know any songs by. Like the Misfits. Are they a band or a company that creates t-shirts to sell to pot heads?

(Misfits t-shirts, how to spot a drug dealer)

Brittany is an unusual name. I don’t think I will ever speak to someone with that name. I’ve known several people whose owners (parents) have named them that. They all have one thing in common. Everybody named Brittany is either ditzy, thin, and fashionable or they’re a big mean lesbian. They are the two extremes of human beings. Dainty little daddy’s girls and tough Mohawk clad dykes.

I associate the name more with the preppy girls than I do with the angry lesbians that dawn the surname. The first Brittany I ever met was Korean. We had a project for school which involved gluing goldfish crackers onto construction paper. Korean Brittany thought it would be a good idea to peel off the goldfish crackers and eat them. This was in second grade and I haven’t heard about her since. My guess, she became a mean lesbian.

Brittany isn’t a name I would ever give my child. The double B’s that she’d have in her name would severely taunt her if she was flat-chested. I know I’d make fun of her for it. Still, that’s not the main reason for never naming a child Brittany. I wouldn’t want her fate to be determined. I know that I would never raise a daughter to be spoiled like half of Brittanys are. I would automatically be setting up my daughter to be a foul-mouthed homosexual with girl biceps. I believe in freewill. Naming your child Brittany would be a form of slavery.