Posts Tagged ‘teenagers’

I’m full of wisdom. I’m also full of blood. Most living people are full of blood. I don’t think Frankenstein is. Actually he’s probably dead now again from old age. I wonder if anyone knew Frankenstein during his first time living and then met up with him again after he was brought back to life. That must be hard to have to go to his funeral twice. Annoying too. I imagine Frankenstein’s second funeral was mostly people catching up on what they’ve done since the last one. Few people probably cried. Except maybe the little girl he gave a flower to. She didn’t know Frankenstein before the reanimation. She only know the bolt in the neck guy.

(Every father’s worst nightmare. His daughter goes out on her own and some suave monster flirts her up saying how she’s beautiful and creative even when she isn’t. Girls fall for everything)

I’m not here to talk about Frankenstein. I’m here to talk about sage advice. One of them is to never start a post about giving people advice with your thoughts on Frankenstein. But more importantly I want to give you the best piece of advice I have. That advice is to move out of your parent’s house as fast as you can. Continue on and I will explain why this is the most important thing you can do in life.

I feel you cannot possibly grow until you are living on your own away from your parents. Did you ever see that Matthew McConaughy movie Failure to Launch? If you said yes you’re lying. Everyone who saw it jumped in front of a train within a week. The basic premise was about “failing” to “launch” from your parent’s home. Somehow failure to launch the space shuttle Challenger was much more entertaining and humorous than this disaster film.

 (This is the only American disaster to ever have a pair of pigtails)

More and more people aren’t moving out on their own. They can’t because things cost money. It’s not the way things used to be. Back when women were like female dinosaurs and really had no choice in who they would sleep with. I remember watching a dinosaur documentary. A long neck went up to another long neck and had his way with her doggy style. Doggies didn’t even exist yet mind you. I always thought this was strange. There’s no courting involved? Where was I going with this? Ah yes, fear of not being able to afford the things you want if you have to pay rent. Remember though, girls don’t want to go home with a guy who has roommates who spawned him. Instead of taking her out to eat and paying those expensive Ruby Tuesday’s burger prices, you can take her back to your place and not have to tip extra because you feel guilty for sitting there for 2 hours. I think I’m neurotic.

Why do I think you should move out? It’s liberating. You can walk around naked. I love walking around naked. Even though I know for a fact you can see into my apartment from the right angle, I do it anyway. Little Jamal on his bike, it’s about time he sees what a man can grow up to look like in the nude if his curiosity so tempts him. Keep in mind I rarely sit around in the nude. That feels gross. Dog hairs attach themselves to my ass. So does lint and the occasional stray bloody booger that has fallen out during a coughing fit. My nude ass placed anywhere is a magnet for disgusting objects.

(Once I sat down on the couch and found a wet Kristen Stewart attached to my ass cheek. Gross! Stop being so frumpy. It’s not attractive)

Living on your own is also great because it gives you a hiding place. Don’t want to see anybody? Stay at home! Most homes have these things called locks. I know there are some towns in the world where nobody locks their doors. Then why have the lock? You were ripped off. You’re a rube. People cannot enter your home when doors remain locked. Unless they can walk through walls or have the same bone structure as a mouse. I enjoy the privacy in my home. Except that little space between the windows where you can look in. I love that. I love to ruin a child.

Moving out is scary as hell. Anyone who tells you differently is my 58-year-old uncle who still lives at home. I was afraid to leave my apartment the first 3 months. I was afraid I would never come back or something would go wrong while I was away. Then I went to a nearby Salvation Army to kill time and remember I have no friends. When I returned my key would not fit in the lock. I had to have Ted the Maintenance Man make a quick copy for me. He did so with a smile and a strange stain on his face. I’m thinking he helped unclog a toilet earlier and this splashed on him.

(Ted the Maintenance Man with a shit stain on his forehead. When I move out his boss is going to probably tell him to “tear down that drywall.” Way too much damage to it not to be replaced)

What one thing would you recommend a younger person do? Don’t say “live life like there’s no tomorrow.” Because for you old person, there might not be.

Being a teenager sucks! The cops are always harassing you, parents are always yelling saying you need to eat your vegetables, and teachers won’t get off your ass about how important geometry is. Really kiddos, geometry is something I use everyday. Every night after dinner I grab a protractor and measure the width of my asshole. I’m kidding of course. Why would I need to do that more than once? It doesn’t change. Geometry is pretty pointless unless you’re a carpenter. Nobody really sets out to be a carpenter either. Usually they’re failed architects. And just because you enjoy Legos doesn’t mean you should aspire to be an architect. It’s a much more boring job than it sounds. If you’ve seen Prison Break and remember how Michael Scofield spoke you’d know.

(Wanna bet he put more time into getting these fake tattoos on then he has working since Prison Break went off the air?)

The hardest part about being a teenager though is finding a place to drink. They’ve got these crazy laws in the United States. You’re not allowed to drink until you’re 21! It’s insane. Everybody knows that 15-year-olds are totally responsible enough to handle their alcohol. That’s one of the dumbest things that teenagers argue about. If American kids could drink when they were under 21 nothing would ever get done. Justin Bieber would be begging for change and Dakota Fanning would be a prostitute.

(Wait, wasn’t she 12 last week?)

I would like to do a service today and let my teenage readers know where the good spots to drink are. I know, I’m a swell guy like that. The first place I would like to mention is my apartment. Yes. All teenagers are welcome to come to my apartment at any time to drink. If anyone asks though you didn’t get the booze from me. You got it from your parent’s liquor cabinet. Here are some perks about drinking in my apartment. For one, it’s inside. That means heating and air conditioning depending on the time of year. I also have a love-seat to sit on as well as a swivel chair. Parties are always more fun with a swivel chair around. I also have a bed. I think it’s a twin? Either way, it could easily fit two slender 18-year-olds who are interested in pursuing a career in modeling on either side of myself. Have I ever mentioned that I’m a modeling agent? I am now if that’s what you’re interested in.

Some of you might be a little uneasy about coming to a stranger’s apartment. Just because I’m strange doesn’t mean I have to always remain a stranger. That so sounds like something a child molester would say. Another place you can drink is at your friend’s house. Not every friend’s house either. It has to be at that one friend’s house. You know, the one whose parents don’t love them. Usually there’s a basement there. Usually this friend also doesn’t have a bed, just a cot. We all have had that friend at some point. The friend with the party house. This friend usually doesn’t amount to much. Nobody has ever done an interview saying “I knew I was going to win the presidential election when a friend of mine called me the biggest partier he knew.” There’s nothing wrong with being the party house kid. It can be a blessing. People will be nice to you because you’re the one person they know who won’t be upset if they throw up on your floor. It’s worth a life of working minimum wage jobs.

(In high school she was the prom queen. In the real world she burns her fingers on a the Fry-O-Later twice a day)

If you’re a more outdoorsy person, you could always have a bonfire. Remember though, these are illegal to do. Actually I’m not sure. But a bonfire has to be illegal. There’s no way a bunch of teenagers are legally allowed to build a giant fire even if it’s to toss a redheaded person into. I’ve been to one bonfire in my life. It was okay. Nobody fell into the fire. One person fell into the lake. All I remember was a lot of guys sitting around on coolers shirtless. They said that they were really hot and that’s why they took their shirts off. How about putting out the fire? A girl also had sex with three different guys in the woods that night. That was the rumor that the one kid whose dad was there started spreading. How does a dad show up at a teenager’s bonfire? No wonder I gave up drinking. It was always too awkward.

The most ridiculous place for a teenager to drink is the car. Teenagers do a lot of strange things in cars. They drink in them, smoke weed in them, have sex in them, everything but drive them. When I think about it, I never even drove my car when I was a teenager. I would sit in it and make racing noises. Call me old-fashioned, but drinking in the car seems sad. You render the car useless by doing so. Your life is that bad that you have to sit in your 1999 Hyundai trying to forget about how bad everything has become? Maybe I’m alone in this. I think if you have to do something that depressing in order to do it at all then you should wait 3 more years until you can do it in a more normal setting, like somewhere with a table.

Teenagers are always going to be drinking. I guess you can’t blame them really. What else is there for them to do? They have so much free time, no worries in life, and awkward pimples in even more awkward places. If it wasn’t for alcohol, teenagers would never have sex. And teenage sex is what makes ABC Family a successful cable channel. Really, how is always bringing sex into the equation family oriented? Families don’t talk about sex. They avoid it. The History Channel should be called the Family Channel. I never had a sex talk with a family member. Yet when I was 14 years old my dad sat me down to have a talk about how Hitler got all of his technology from ancient aliens and ice road truckers. That’s what a real family is like.

(My dad, Giorgio, telling me all about Ancient Aliens and how they built the pyramids and Statue of Liberty)

I don’t have pimple scars. Not a single one. Check my body. I’ll get completely naked and you can look. I’m willing to take the test under any circumstances. That’s more than a single psychic will promise. If you find a single pimple scar on my body than every psychic in the world was right about you having a guardian angel and that you’ll grow up to marry a guy named Ted who sells maps.

Someone reading this has pimple scars. Maybe one, two, or three-thousand. That’s usually how they come. For that person, the one who has been called pizza face, tartar sauce nose, and freak, this post is for you. I might be going out on a limb here and you may not fully understand it, but pimple scars can be sexy.

My memory isn’t too straight and the rest of this paragraph will have a lot of “maybes” and “that probably isn’t how it happeneds”. I don’t recall if I’ve mentioned it here on my blog or in my 94 page life story that I wrote up in the late summer of 2010. But my first crush was a girl with pimple scars. I know that’s not true, but that’s how I remember her looking. We were in kindergarten, meaning she couldn’t possibly have that awful of skin. It was a New Jersey elementary school so I guess anything is possible. I did once see a kid at a urinal with a foot for a hand.

I’ve only ever kissed one girl with a face full of pimple scars. It was on the cheek and was like kissing the moon. Frank Sinatra started playing in my head. It was magical to lay my lips on those bumps. Despite having a face filled with pimple scars, I found her very attractive. I mean sweepingly sexy. I would have kissed each of those face craters if it meant I could see her again. Actually no. She didn’t speak good English. But still, she was hot and had a lot of pimple scars. Maybe she was an exception, but I continue to be obsessed with pimple scar girls.

Not everyone with pimple scars is hot. They can’t be those blistering red ones. Ugh. Those are terrible. I don’t need your face matching the pizza sauce I give you for lunch. Perfect pimple scars belong on more ethnic people. Brown skin being the ideal. Some Italian girls can get away with it, some black ones too. White people cannot. Pimples on white girls usually flame up. They look like mosquito bites more than anything. It’s like a face full of nipples. I love nipples just as much as the next guy, but there’s a limit to how many should be on a girl. I think I’d draw the line at 3. I only have one mouth and two hands. Maybe if two were really close I could handle another.

The best place for pimple scars to look good is the side of the face. A little out-of-the-way. Somewhere that if I did grow to become embarrassed of your face that I could force you to lengthen your hair or put on a flimsy wig to cover it up. The side of the cheek. Maybe right over the carotid artery. I hope I spelt that correctly. It’s that place on your neck that vampires bite and killer ninjas stab. In National Lampoon’s European Vacation, the man on the bike shoots blood out of that spot. Okay, if you don’t know what I mean now you never will.

We can’t all have beautiful skin like ROBPIXADAY!!! It’s tough growing up thinking you’re different and have some kind of a flaw that cannot be cured. But if I have taught you anything today, it’s that there is someone out there who likes everything. Other people have told me that they like or don’t mind pimple scars. That shows a lot of hope out there for you hair lipped clods and Cyclops. Don’t put yourself down for something as silly as a pimple scar. Worst case scenario, tell them you were mangled in a car accident or fought in Desert Storm. That reminds me, I want to open up a bakery and called it Dessert Storm. Cupcakes with pictures of George Bush and Saddam Hussein on them. There’s a name you never hear anymore. Whatever happened to that guy?

Modern Bands

Posted: September 2, 2011 in September 2011
Tags: , ,

I feel bad for children born in this century. They will probably never live through an era of great music. Who is to blame for this? Really, it’s all of us. The fact that we continue to allow awful bands to make money drives more and more to be mass produced in factories. What happened? Am I just too hip? Didn’t music used to be somewhat good?

To be a band now you need a few specific things. That’s it. You don’t need talent, charisma, or a brilliant way to show off your junk in an original way, you just need to be like everyone else.

1) A guy with an afro

All new bands have a guy with an afro. There’s nothing wrong with afros. In fact, I am much for people with hair that looks like it’s a scoop of chocolate ice cream. It’s soothing on a hot summer day. I’m not sure when afros became trendy on white guys, but they are. It’s like they’re saying “Hey I want to be black just like all the other white boys, but I don’t look good with my underwear hanging out.”

2) Suspenders

They’re not for Larry King or men with big stomachs and small asses anymore. I think skinheads wear suspenders a lot too. Larry King is bald. Is he a skinhead? He’s certainly not a douche in a band. Suspenders were invented in the 1840s by an alliance of French clowns for a means of keeping their larger than normal pants up. They are not here to supplement the shoulders of an ill-muscled teenage boy singing about homework.

3) A picture of you all having fun

Once you see a band it ruins everything you think about them. I’ve never once saw a picture of a band and thought to myself “Hey, those cats look cool.” To be fair, I’ve never had that thought for anything. I’ve never seen a group of cool enough cats live in person. In my head I have the image, but have yet to encounter it. My imagination beats reality every time. Usually bands take pictures of them doing fun activities like climbing up rocks or riding dirt bikes. It’s annoying. There is no reason for this. How about you stick with a picture of you all standing holding your instruments or be like the Gorillaz and be cartoons. I don’t need to see the drummer from Alkaline Trio boogie boarding.

4) A nasally singer

At some point in history, every singer decided that they wanted to sound exactly like the guy from Green Day. They thought it would be cool to sound stuffy and whiny. That’s not singing. You sound like women with colds yelling at a pharmacist about your prescription being late.

5) Tattoos

I used to think that having a tattoo made you a tough man. Now it tends to mean you have an alcohol problem. They’re really nothing more than permanent merit badges, for the skin. You don’t need a tattoo to prove how artist you are. Instead you should write a song that people actually remember. I’m talking to you dude from Smashmouth!

6) Beards

This topic includes both the facial kind and the wife to prove that you are not gay kind. Lets face it, most guys in bands are pretty gay. They’re build like women, tend to have long hair, and dance with their hips. Having a hairy face also doesn’t hide the fact that you could be a homosexual. If anything it keeps the scent of man stuck in your mustache.

7) Nerd glasses

Lisa Loeb, Rivers Cuomo, members of other bands who I don’t give a shit about; they all wear nerd glasses. For some reason I always associate these glasses mostly with actor and Scientologist, Jason Lee. He only ever wore them in his forgettable classic Dreamcatcher which is about Donnie Wahlberg being retarded. I guess these glasses fit into the hipster notion that they don’t care what everyone else thinks about them. So what if I have 4-eyes? I’m in a band.