I’m bored. And not just tonight, I mean in general. Since I was laid-off, I’ve been trying to fill the time. I bought a diary, but hell, I’m, like, 10 days ahead in that thing. I hope everything turns out like I thought it would… Since I watch a lot of C-SPAN, I bought a set of Bose® Bullshit-canceling headphones. Those things are amazing! You can’t hear a thing, just like the ad says.
So I decided to be a stalker. I figured, Hey, I know a few haaat trixies, I might as well stalk them. Well, that whole “stalking” business is more elaborate than you'd think. You have to buy binoculars, wake up early, have plenty of gas, stay up late, etc. Stalking is way more trouble than it’s worth.
One girl, whom I ran into a few times, finally said, “Are you stalking me?”
Of course I was, that was my new thing. I offered, “Betcha wanna get a Restraining Order on me, huh?”
“No. Not really,” she said. “I have low self-esteem and I think I’d enjoy the attention.” Not exactly the response I was looking for. Yeah, I’m done with stalking.
So at night I watch a lot of the Discovery Channel. They always have UFO specials on. Apparently alien life is well accepted among most Americans. People believe in it. Or them. What I wonder is (mostly cause I was drinking) do they have alien life that is not as advanced as most alien life? Like, retarded aliens? I’d have to think that it would be inevitable. Of course you’d have to refer to them as “Special Terrestrials.” They’re probably the ones that do all of the anal probing and give all of the other aliens a bad name.
Yeah, I’ve got time on my hands.
I’d pork a trixie from the bar but that’s a guaranteed way to get Swine Flu according to Fox News. Fox news never lets me do it! It’s either the Mexican Swine Flu, SARS, Bird Flu, Mad Cow, West Nile virus, the Ebola virus, or just a cough. Fox News wants me abstain from what I’m best at (I won a blue ribbon at the fair last year). My sex life is so good, Warren Beatty calls me every now and again with “questions.” That doesn’t bother me as much as his questions always start with, “I’ve got this friend…”
So what do I do?
Albertsons is having a parking lot sale but I have no room for a parking lot. I could go window shopping because I need some windows. The paper had more than a few garage sales in there, but really, do THAT many people need garages? Christensen’s is having a “fire sale.” What am I? A caveman? I KNOW how to make fire! Thanks for the help, though. And the 24-hour sales? We’re selling time now, people? Ridiculous.
Carpe Diem. “Seize the day.” That’s nice. A good rule to live by. But do you notice they never tell you which day to seize? What if you seize the wrong day? You’d look like an ass in front of all your friends! I think you should seize a few days a week and if anyone asks, you just say, “It’s Thursday? Crap! I was suppose to seize this day! Oh, well, I’ll seize an extra day next week.”
At least they’ll think you know what you’re doing. I’m just saying…
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Im unemployed :(
So I have a lot of time on my hands. As you may or may not know, I was laid-off from The Diamond Store for being too damn sexy. Yeah, they claim it was the economy, but come on. I wasn’t born yesterday. I know sexy was involved.
Anyway. Since I have all of this time, I have been coming up with good ideas. Great ones, really. It all started when I was at a Chinese Restaurant with friends when the check and fortune cookies came. One of the trixies said, “You have to read it aloud, but you have to end it with ‘in bed’.” All of the girls seemed to laugh at the PG-13 humor. Someone would say, “Do not be frustrated by your friends—in bed!” Or there was, “Someone you love has something in store for you—in bed!” It got big laughs. So the next time I was in the (same) restaurant, when the fortune cookies came, I suggested that they read their fortunes aloud and end it with “anally.” You know, “Do not be frustrated by your friends—anally!” Or, “Someone you love has something in store for you—anally!” It was a big hit. Most of the girls were kicking themselves that they didn’t think of it first!
Another thing I feel pretty satisfied about is the fact that I petitioned Miriam-Webster to extend the meaning of “war veterans” to include divorcees. It only stands to reason, I argued. They agreed. And my friend Shriber, who married a lovely French woman? If, God forbid, he ever did get divorced, he could actually be considered a “veteran of a foreign war.” You’re welcome, people.
You know how kids, if you ask them something, they always say, “Guess!”? I’ve adopted that into my daily life. (Except in bars. If you ask a trixie her age in a bar, A: you should NEVER do that, ever, and B: even if you do guess, you’re never going to be right. And it’s going to turn ugly. And you are going to go home alone). BUT, the phrase is great in everyday life. For instance, “The reason I pulled you over is because you were weaving a little bit. Have you been drinking tonight?”
“Guess!”
Or maybe in the ER when the doctor frantically asks you if you are allergic to any medications.
“Guess!”
Another good one, when the judge asks you how you plead to the charges.
“Guess!” Everyone, including the judge, usually just ends up giving you a noogie and laughs heartily.
So, also because I have a little bit of time, I went to open mic night at the Ha Ha Hole on Pico. Before I went on, the guy asked me if I did “blue humor.” I thought, sad, depressing, “I’m so blue” humor? No, my stuff is not depressing. I am, but my material’s not. So I went on. I started with my Chinese fortune cookie, anal bit…
Apparently “blue humor” has nothing to do with being sad. Yeah, I was kicked out and asked not to come back. I didn’t even get to the Chinaman who ate at an American restaurant and a half hour later was still full. Their loss, I say.
Yeah, I have a lot of time on my hands, I’m just saying. Guess I’ll finish that book I started, “Curious George and the High Voltage Fence.” And if you already know how it ends, don’t tell me! I’m only halfway through with it. Up next? Judy Blume’s, “Why doesn’t Jenny Like Boys?” The cover art alone reeled me in.
Anyway. Let me know if you hear of anyone looking for an ideas man.
Anyway. Since I have all of this time, I have been coming up with good ideas. Great ones, really. It all started when I was at a Chinese Restaurant with friends when the check and fortune cookies came. One of the trixies said, “You have to read it aloud, but you have to end it with ‘in bed’.” All of the girls seemed to laugh at the PG-13 humor. Someone would say, “Do not be frustrated by your friends—in bed!” Or there was, “Someone you love has something in store for you—in bed!” It got big laughs. So the next time I was in the (same) restaurant, when the fortune cookies came, I suggested that they read their fortunes aloud and end it with “anally.” You know, “Do not be frustrated by your friends—anally!” Or, “Someone you love has something in store for you—anally!” It was a big hit. Most of the girls were kicking themselves that they didn’t think of it first!
Another thing I feel pretty satisfied about is the fact that I petitioned Miriam-Webster to extend the meaning of “war veterans” to include divorcees. It only stands to reason, I argued. They agreed. And my friend Shriber, who married a lovely French woman? If, God forbid, he ever did get divorced, he could actually be considered a “veteran of a foreign war.” You’re welcome, people.
You know how kids, if you ask them something, they always say, “Guess!”? I’ve adopted that into my daily life. (Except in bars. If you ask a trixie her age in a bar, A: you should NEVER do that, ever, and B: even if you do guess, you’re never going to be right. And it’s going to turn ugly. And you are going to go home alone). BUT, the phrase is great in everyday life. For instance, “The reason I pulled you over is because you were weaving a little bit. Have you been drinking tonight?”
“Guess!”
Or maybe in the ER when the doctor frantically asks you if you are allergic to any medications.
“Guess!”
Another good one, when the judge asks you how you plead to the charges.
“Guess!” Everyone, including the judge, usually just ends up giving you a noogie and laughs heartily.
So, also because I have a little bit of time, I went to open mic night at the Ha Ha Hole on Pico. Before I went on, the guy asked me if I did “blue humor.” I thought, sad, depressing, “I’m so blue” humor? No, my stuff is not depressing. I am, but my material’s not. So I went on. I started with my Chinese fortune cookie, anal bit…
Apparently “blue humor” has nothing to do with being sad. Yeah, I was kicked out and asked not to come back. I didn’t even get to the Chinaman who ate at an American restaurant and a half hour later was still full. Their loss, I say.
Yeah, I have a lot of time on my hands, I’m just saying. Guess I’ll finish that book I started, “Curious George and the High Voltage Fence.” And if you already know how it ends, don’t tell me! I’m only halfway through with it. Up next? Judy Blume’s, “Why doesn’t Jenny Like Boys?” The cover art alone reeled me in.
Anyway. Let me know if you hear of anyone looking for an ideas man.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The State of America
The United States isn’t doing well. In any respect, really. Not economically, not in the automotive field, housing, employment, self-confidence… you name it. Admittedly, I am no expert in… any field really, but I think I know why we all are facing so much adversity right now. Greed. Prestige. Impressing the neighbors. Driving cars we can’t afford, drinking scotch we can’t afford, buying houses we can’t afford… In short, it all comes down to one thing:
$.
Would Bernie Madoff have been able to sucker so many people out of so much money if there weren’t people who were so eager to make some easy money? Something for nothing has always been hard for Americans to say “no” to.
They say insurance companies are a cancer on our economy. AIG has made quite a name for themselves as well as many others. I don’t know much about the insurance game but it’s very telling when I go to pay a doctor bill and it’s $350 and I pull out my wallet and they say, “Oh, you’re paying cash? Oh, then it’s only $9.50.”
I died twice in 2006. I was hit by a drunk/stoned driver who had over 20 alcohol-related citations on his record, and just had another DUI almost exactly one month prior to hitting me. All the kings’ horses and all the king’s men put me back together again with titanium, screws and bolts (FYI if all the kings’ horses and all the king’s men do have to put you back together again, it’ll run you about $240k). He was insured with Geico, which made me wonder: who at Geico thought, “Hmmm, 20-something alcohol violations… seems like a good risk to me! Cash his check!”
I don’t care how cute the caveman or the gecko is, sometimes you have to just say no to money. But that’s kinda hard…
Former President George W. Bush said we had to invade Iraq because Saddam Hussein was a bad man. So we did. And we got him! I totally saw him hanged on CNN. Mission accomplished, I guess. But since the Iraq war, about 4,000 troops have died and around 24,000 wounded. Their mental anguish must be immeasurable. The long-term financial costs of the war could reach as much as $4 Trillion. Saddam must have been badder than I first thought because that’s a lot of effort just to get rid of a bad guy. I haven’t seen a battle plan like that since I played a game of Risk! against Jessica Simpson. It’s almost like there was another reason for invading Iraq. Shell and Exxon-Mobile made more money than they ever have, ever, in the history of ever, but I’m sure that was just a coinkydinct.
There’s this guy that no one likes at the golf course. He rubs everyone the wrong way and he’s not well-liked. He’s a bad guy, I guess you could say. However, I’m not going to spend $4 Trillion or have anyone die or wounded to get rid of him. Most likely, I probably just won’t wave when I pass him. That’s $4 Trillion I can keep in my pocket and spend on whatever.
Businessweek claims that 1,000,000 people lost their house in 2008 alone. You might see this as morbid news, but consider this: some of those houses were ugly and done in a Southwestern motif. Families losing their house? Some are very heart breaking stories. Some, however, you have to ask, “How did they buy a million dollar house making a combined $43k a year?” Yeah, maybe the bank was a bit negligent in just requiring a signature, but deep down the people knew what the f@ck was going on.
There’s nothing wrong with being rich. When you get rich, you can buy a really nice car. Probably something German. When you’re rich, you buy a German car to show everyone just how damn rich you are. When you’re poor, you get a Japanese car to save on gas. Is there really a need to save the American car industry? If there is, I think we should have a retro-active automotive bailout. Bring back the Edsell, DeSoto, Nash, Packard, and the Studebaker. Studebakers were badass, I’m just saying…
In this type of situation it’s natural to want to find someone or something to place blame and hold accountable for this sordid state of affairs. AIG, George Bush, Bernie Madoff, executives with lavish bonuses… someone has to jump on the grenade don’t they? Otherwise it’d be every single American who was right in the middle of an American Dream when it turned in to a nightmare.
I was laid off from my job two days before my birthday. It’s the economy, I was told. Phew! As long as it wasn’t my fault. Good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow. I plan on staying up, drinking expensive scotch, finding blame in the economy, making my vacation plans, and checking my PowerBall numbers online.
Should be a good night.
$.
Would Bernie Madoff have been able to sucker so many people out of so much money if there weren’t people who were so eager to make some easy money? Something for nothing has always been hard for Americans to say “no” to.
They say insurance companies are a cancer on our economy. AIG has made quite a name for themselves as well as many others. I don’t know much about the insurance game but it’s very telling when I go to pay a doctor bill and it’s $350 and I pull out my wallet and they say, “Oh, you’re paying cash? Oh, then it’s only $9.50.”
I died twice in 2006. I was hit by a drunk/stoned driver who had over 20 alcohol-related citations on his record, and just had another DUI almost exactly one month prior to hitting me. All the kings’ horses and all the king’s men put me back together again with titanium, screws and bolts (FYI if all the kings’ horses and all the king’s men do have to put you back together again, it’ll run you about $240k). He was insured with Geico, which made me wonder: who at Geico thought, “Hmmm, 20-something alcohol violations… seems like a good risk to me! Cash his check!”
I don’t care how cute the caveman or the gecko is, sometimes you have to just say no to money. But that’s kinda hard…
Former President George W. Bush said we had to invade Iraq because Saddam Hussein was a bad man. So we did. And we got him! I totally saw him hanged on CNN. Mission accomplished, I guess. But since the Iraq war, about 4,000 troops have died and around 24,000 wounded. Their mental anguish must be immeasurable. The long-term financial costs of the war could reach as much as $4 Trillion. Saddam must have been badder than I first thought because that’s a lot of effort just to get rid of a bad guy. I haven’t seen a battle plan like that since I played a game of Risk! against Jessica Simpson. It’s almost like there was another reason for invading Iraq. Shell and Exxon-Mobile made more money than they ever have, ever, in the history of ever, but I’m sure that was just a coinkydinct.
There’s this guy that no one likes at the golf course. He rubs everyone the wrong way and he’s not well-liked. He’s a bad guy, I guess you could say. However, I’m not going to spend $4 Trillion or have anyone die or wounded to get rid of him. Most likely, I probably just won’t wave when I pass him. That’s $4 Trillion I can keep in my pocket and spend on whatever.
Businessweek claims that 1,000,000 people lost their house in 2008 alone. You might see this as morbid news, but consider this: some of those houses were ugly and done in a Southwestern motif. Families losing their house? Some are very heart breaking stories. Some, however, you have to ask, “How did they buy a million dollar house making a combined $43k a year?” Yeah, maybe the bank was a bit negligent in just requiring a signature, but deep down the people knew what the f@ck was going on.
There’s nothing wrong with being rich. When you get rich, you can buy a really nice car. Probably something German. When you’re rich, you buy a German car to show everyone just how damn rich you are. When you’re poor, you get a Japanese car to save on gas. Is there really a need to save the American car industry? If there is, I think we should have a retro-active automotive bailout. Bring back the Edsell, DeSoto, Nash, Packard, and the Studebaker. Studebakers were badass, I’m just saying…
In this type of situation it’s natural to want to find someone or something to place blame and hold accountable for this sordid state of affairs. AIG, George Bush, Bernie Madoff, executives with lavish bonuses… someone has to jump on the grenade don’t they? Otherwise it’d be every single American who was right in the middle of an American Dream when it turned in to a nightmare.
I was laid off from my job two days before my birthday. It’s the economy, I was told. Phew! As long as it wasn’t my fault. Good thing I don’t have to work tomorrow. I plan on staying up, drinking expensive scotch, finding blame in the economy, making my vacation plans, and checking my PowerBall numbers online.
Should be a good night.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Phrases Again
I was in the pawnshop the other day (don’t judge me, I just got laid off). A gentleman was in there looking to buy a compound bow, yet admitted that he “couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.” Not wanting to show my ignorance, I did not ask, but I wondered: The broadside of a barn? How do you know what side of a barn is preferable to broads? I mean, I didn’t even know that barns had kitchens let alone, I guess, the obvious fact that broads have a favorable side of said barn.
Man, some phrases are just commonplace to everyone else, but to me? They’re an enigma wrapped up in a riddle. Maybe it’s the cold medication, but some of these phrases just don’t make sense.
Like, I’m going to tackle this “head on.” Myself, I’ve been in a head on. I don’t remember it, but I was there from what the newspaper said. It didn’t help, really. So I just have to think: why would ANYONE want to tackle something “head on?” For one, you don’t remember anything, and b: you can’t tackle anything or even walk afterward, because your brain no longer functions on the same level. You’re better off brainstorming.
“Brainstorming?” Really? This is a good thing? There are storm warnings, storm chasers and something can be taken by storm, but supposedly “brainstorming” is where good ideas come from. A good idea like tackling a problem “head on,” I guess.
“Everything but the kitchen sink.” This is my dad in a nutshell, but I’ve heard it a lot. “In his recipes, he puts in everything but the kitchen sink.” Okay. But what’s so elusive about the kitchen sink? Why is the kitchen sink the only thing that is spared in this metaphor? That’s why when people ask me what’s in my recipes, I say, “Ah, a dash of salt, some Oregano, and a pinch of kitchen sink.” They look at me really strange, then excuse themselves. I don’t blame them…
“Appetite of a bird.” Okay, maybe she is petite, but for crying out loud, SHE EATS WORMS! An appetite of a bird? Gross. Glad she has a smokin’ body, but you can have her. Especially because she gets up so damn early!
My mom says this one: “It breaks my heart to see that.” A heart can break into pieces from what I gather from 1970’s FM stations. I mean, I’ve felt bad over a girl, maybe sprained or pulled a heart, but I don’t think I’ve ever had mine broken. If you do? Just put some ice on it and stop being such a baby.
“Butting heads.” Admittedly, I know what this means. It’s a metaphor for how male big horn sheep establish dominance. I just think that human males should adopt this ritual. Five guys surrounding the one hot chick at the bar? They gotta butt heads. Winner gets the trixie! Trust me, if males had to physically butt heads, your current boss would no longer be your boss. We could learn a thing or two from the animal kingdom, I’m just saying…
The animal kingdom. “Screwed the pooch.” I do not want, nor do I care where this phrase came from. It’s just weird. But you have to think of the first guy who said it. “Man, she really screwed the pooch on that one.” Did his friends just let it go or did they just hammer the guy? “Look, she made a mistake, but don’t compare her bad choices to bestiality with a dog! Damn.”
I don’t know. I was hoping the cold medicine mixed with Amstel Light would make me tired, but obviously, my head is just spinning. Man, I hate being under the weather! Hey, wait, “Under the weather? Where did that phrase come from…?
Man, some phrases are just commonplace to everyone else, but to me? They’re an enigma wrapped up in a riddle. Maybe it’s the cold medication, but some of these phrases just don’t make sense.
Like, I’m going to tackle this “head on.” Myself, I’ve been in a head on. I don’t remember it, but I was there from what the newspaper said. It didn’t help, really. So I just have to think: why would ANYONE want to tackle something “head on?” For one, you don’t remember anything, and b: you can’t tackle anything or even walk afterward, because your brain no longer functions on the same level. You’re better off brainstorming.
“Brainstorming?” Really? This is a good thing? There are storm warnings, storm chasers and something can be taken by storm, but supposedly “brainstorming” is where good ideas come from. A good idea like tackling a problem “head on,” I guess.
“Everything but the kitchen sink.” This is my dad in a nutshell, but I’ve heard it a lot. “In his recipes, he puts in everything but the kitchen sink.” Okay. But what’s so elusive about the kitchen sink? Why is the kitchen sink the only thing that is spared in this metaphor? That’s why when people ask me what’s in my recipes, I say, “Ah, a dash of salt, some Oregano, and a pinch of kitchen sink.” They look at me really strange, then excuse themselves. I don’t blame them…
“Appetite of a bird.” Okay, maybe she is petite, but for crying out loud, SHE EATS WORMS! An appetite of a bird? Gross. Glad she has a smokin’ body, but you can have her. Especially because she gets up so damn early!
My mom says this one: “It breaks my heart to see that.” A heart can break into pieces from what I gather from 1970’s FM stations. I mean, I’ve felt bad over a girl, maybe sprained or pulled a heart, but I don’t think I’ve ever had mine broken. If you do? Just put some ice on it and stop being such a baby.
“Butting heads.” Admittedly, I know what this means. It’s a metaphor for how male big horn sheep establish dominance. I just think that human males should adopt this ritual. Five guys surrounding the one hot chick at the bar? They gotta butt heads. Winner gets the trixie! Trust me, if males had to physically butt heads, your current boss would no longer be your boss. We could learn a thing or two from the animal kingdom, I’m just saying…
The animal kingdom. “Screwed the pooch.” I do not want, nor do I care where this phrase came from. It’s just weird. But you have to think of the first guy who said it. “Man, she really screwed the pooch on that one.” Did his friends just let it go or did they just hammer the guy? “Look, she made a mistake, but don’t compare her bad choices to bestiality with a dog! Damn.”
I don’t know. I was hoping the cold medicine mixed with Amstel Light would make me tired, but obviously, my head is just spinning. Man, I hate being under the weather! Hey, wait, “Under the weather? Where did that phrase come from…?
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Bright News About the Economy
You can’t talk with anyone for 2 minutes without the subject turning to the economy. “Oh, it’s getting bad!” they say. Or perhaps, “Things are going to get far worse before they get better.” At least we’re going to finish a strong 2nd in Iraq.
Okay, admittedly, the economy is shit. Banks, the US dollar, morale, the auto industry and employment are less than stellar. I get it. I understand. But why do you people have to be “glass ½ empty” kind of people? I know I’m not. I see the glass as ½ full. Let me let you in on a little secret:
Hookers.
Yes, hookers are feeling the pinch as bad or worse than anyone! And I owe my knowledge of this to Dave Madden. (Yes, we patched things up and we’re talking again. For those of you who don’t know, he bilked me out of $7 in a Ponzi scheme as well as several other “friends.” Like I had $7 to lose!) Ever since Dave worked his way out of the mailroom at Expedia and they gave him an expense card, he has been tripping the light fantastic with ladies of the evening in every city. Since he travels a great deal for Expedia, he hits a lot of cities/countries. However, even though he now has monetary carte blanche, he’s still Dave Madden.
There are hookers in Thailand who’ll claim, “That one boy? He into crazy shit! He scare me.” You can take Dave out of the city, but you can’t take the twisted out of Dave. Or… something like that.
Anyway. I took Dave’s advice and started hitting the pavement. Which isn’t hard. We have, like, 6 stoplights in town so you can effectively cover a great deal of prostitutional real estate. Turns out, Dave was right! Hookers are having huge blowout savings! And the less attractive, homely hookers? They’re practically giving it away! Never, in American history has there been a better time for bachelor parties. I mean, what’s your fiancé going to do? Get mad?
“I can’t believe you did this to me! I trusted you! I can never be with you, ever! Ever! I’m not going to marry you. No, I’m going to move back in with my parents and support my... support my— …um… I forgive you!!” This economy helps with those hard-to-make decisions. Hookers used to only see me on the 1st and 15th, but now? Damn.
The best? Find a hooker who can’t keep her doors open anymore and she’s having a “going-out-of-business” sale. I love their “everything must go” attitude. The close-outs are amazing! I just bring my stimulus package over and keep them afloat for a few more days. Girls who need a bailout? Not my favorite, but they look so sad! (Although, it does burn me up when they use a lot of my hard earned money and give bonuses to pimps that don’t EVEN deserve them! They already drive a Cadillac, why do they need more money?)
I don’t know. I know things are bad for some people, but for me? They’re pretty great. AND, with Obama in the Whitehouse, we’ll have Health Care for everyone. You know, just in case I get one of those pesky STDs. Yeah the economy is pretty bad. If you choose to look at it that way. I don’t.
I just know that I owe Dave Madden. Big time. I’m just saying…
Okay, admittedly, the economy is shit. Banks, the US dollar, morale, the auto industry and employment are less than stellar. I get it. I understand. But why do you people have to be “glass ½ empty” kind of people? I know I’m not. I see the glass as ½ full. Let me let you in on a little secret:
Hookers.
Yes, hookers are feeling the pinch as bad or worse than anyone! And I owe my knowledge of this to Dave Madden. (Yes, we patched things up and we’re talking again. For those of you who don’t know, he bilked me out of $7 in a Ponzi scheme as well as several other “friends.” Like I had $7 to lose!) Ever since Dave worked his way out of the mailroom at Expedia and they gave him an expense card, he has been tripping the light fantastic with ladies of the evening in every city. Since he travels a great deal for Expedia, he hits a lot of cities/countries. However, even though he now has monetary carte blanche, he’s still Dave Madden.
There are hookers in Thailand who’ll claim, “That one boy? He into crazy shit! He scare me.” You can take Dave out of the city, but you can’t take the twisted out of Dave. Or… something like that.
Anyway. I took Dave’s advice and started hitting the pavement. Which isn’t hard. We have, like, 6 stoplights in town so you can effectively cover a great deal of prostitutional real estate. Turns out, Dave was right! Hookers are having huge blowout savings! And the less attractive, homely hookers? They’re practically giving it away! Never, in American history has there been a better time for bachelor parties. I mean, what’s your fiancé going to do? Get mad?
“I can’t believe you did this to me! I trusted you! I can never be with you, ever! Ever! I’m not going to marry you. No, I’m going to move back in with my parents and support my... support my— …um… I forgive you!!” This economy helps with those hard-to-make decisions. Hookers used to only see me on the 1st and 15th, but now? Damn.
The best? Find a hooker who can’t keep her doors open anymore and she’s having a “going-out-of-business” sale. I love their “everything must go” attitude. The close-outs are amazing! I just bring my stimulus package over and keep them afloat for a few more days. Girls who need a bailout? Not my favorite, but they look so sad! (Although, it does burn me up when they use a lot of my hard earned money and give bonuses to pimps that don’t EVEN deserve them! They already drive a Cadillac, why do they need more money?)
I don’t know. I know things are bad for some people, but for me? They’re pretty great. AND, with Obama in the Whitehouse, we’ll have Health Care for everyone. You know, just in case I get one of those pesky STDs. Yeah the economy is pretty bad. If you choose to look at it that way. I don’t.
I just know that I owe Dave Madden. Big time. I’m just saying…
I've Almost Had it With Norman and Betty
I'm kind of mad at Norman and Betty. At first I thought they were okay, but now? They're starting to really bother me.
Let me explain. At first it was fine. Norman and Betty would drop by, mostly unannounced, and drink my wine and eat my food. I like to cook; I don't care about that. What really bothers me is that Norman and Betty almost always drink my wine but never bring any. And it's not like I offer them wine, either. It's more like, "hey what are we drinking, Merlot? No Pinot? You need to buy some Pinot, trust me…"
Do they BRING any Pinot? Fuck no.
I'm halfway convinced that Norman is an alcoholic and Betty is a sex addict. Norman is never "good." He'll always have another glass. And another glass. Then another. He's not done until the bottle is gone. And I don't know how many wine glasses he's broken of mine. There's nothing worse than an uncoordinated alcoholic. I know most people get uncoordinated when drinking, but man, this guy brings new meaning to the word "stumbling drunk."
And Betty. Everything revolves around sex. After two glasses of Merlot (not Pinot, sorry) she can relate anything to intercourse.
"Did you hear about that new study on fellatio?" "You know what causes that, don't you? A lack of sex." "You know, a lot of people aren't into it, but I kind of like to…"
Sometimes I think she's hinting that I should have a threesome with her and Norman, but come on! Why would I? He can't even make it to the bathroom without breaking anything let alone get something accomplished in the bedroom.
I guess I could be to blame for this situation. I should say something to them. I did say something the other night like "wow, if Pinot is so fucking good, why don't you bring me a bottle instead of coming over here and drinking all of my wine and breaking all my shit?" They just laughed and told me how my humor was so stimulating and cutting edge and how refreshing it was to have a dialogue with a modern day Lenny Bruce.
What also pisses me off about Norman and Betty is that as soon as they get a buzz, everything becomes intellectual. "You know, Bush's stance on terrorism is nothing more than modern day McCarthyism just distracting us from his secret policies set in place to make his friends wealthy." Okay, maybe so. "You know, these so called 'news outlets' and 'media' are nothing more than the puppets of George Bush and his friends that belong to a secret society that goes back hundreds of years." Whatever.
What you have to know about Betty is that she claims to work in "education." She does work at a college. She's a janitor. And Norman doesn't work. Doesn't even want to. He spends most of his time thinking of people he can sue because they were "negligent" and how he was injured. I've seen Norman try and walk 15 steps to the bathroom and break three different things. I think any injury he sustains is not due to the negligence of some business. He was probably blind drunk on MY WINE.
Anyway, I've had it. I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore. I'm about finished with Norman and Betty. No more meals, no more wine, no more intellectual conversation.
Rosebud.
Let me explain. At first it was fine. Norman and Betty would drop by, mostly unannounced, and drink my wine and eat my food. I like to cook; I don't care about that. What really bothers me is that Norman and Betty almost always drink my wine but never bring any. And it's not like I offer them wine, either. It's more like, "hey what are we drinking, Merlot? No Pinot? You need to buy some Pinot, trust me…"
Do they BRING any Pinot? Fuck no.
I'm halfway convinced that Norman is an alcoholic and Betty is a sex addict. Norman is never "good." He'll always have another glass. And another glass. Then another. He's not done until the bottle is gone. And I don't know how many wine glasses he's broken of mine. There's nothing worse than an uncoordinated alcoholic. I know most people get uncoordinated when drinking, but man, this guy brings new meaning to the word "stumbling drunk."
And Betty. Everything revolves around sex. After two glasses of Merlot (not Pinot, sorry) she can relate anything to intercourse.
"Did you hear about that new study on fellatio?" "You know what causes that, don't you? A lack of sex." "You know, a lot of people aren't into it, but I kind of like to…"
Sometimes I think she's hinting that I should have a threesome with her and Norman, but come on! Why would I? He can't even make it to the bathroom without breaking anything let alone get something accomplished in the bedroom.
I guess I could be to blame for this situation. I should say something to them. I did say something the other night like "wow, if Pinot is so fucking good, why don't you bring me a bottle instead of coming over here and drinking all of my wine and breaking all my shit?" They just laughed and told me how my humor was so stimulating and cutting edge and how refreshing it was to have a dialogue with a modern day Lenny Bruce.
What also pisses me off about Norman and Betty is that as soon as they get a buzz, everything becomes intellectual. "You know, Bush's stance on terrorism is nothing more than modern day McCarthyism just distracting us from his secret policies set in place to make his friends wealthy." Okay, maybe so. "You know, these so called 'news outlets' and 'media' are nothing more than the puppets of George Bush and his friends that belong to a secret society that goes back hundreds of years." Whatever.
What you have to know about Betty is that she claims to work in "education." She does work at a college. She's a janitor. And Norman doesn't work. Doesn't even want to. He spends most of his time thinking of people he can sue because they were "negligent" and how he was injured. I've seen Norman try and walk 15 steps to the bathroom and break three different things. I think any injury he sustains is not due to the negligence of some business. He was probably blind drunk on MY WINE.
Anyway, I've had it. I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore. I'm about finished with Norman and Betty. No more meals, no more wine, no more intellectual conversation.
Rosebud.
March 2008 News
I’ve been kind of bored back in Utah. I mean, yeah, the Easter Bunny came today but man, there’s not a lot to do here. So I’ve been watching CNN. A lot of CNN. Man, talk about good news for people who like bad news! And the stories are reported, but they never give you any... personal insight. That’s where I come in.
Like, everyone is coming down hard on Elliot Spitzer because of his sex scandal. Poor guy. What everyone doesn’t realize, though, is that they didn’t just “do it;” they made love. People always focus on the negative. The situation reminded me of my first time. Not the first time I had sex, no, that’s a good memory. No, I’m talking about the first time I bounced a check to a hooker. Man, my face was red! And the $30 for sex turned into $60, because the hooker charged me a $15 return check fee and then so did my bank. We’re talking some very costly love making. Not to mention the embarrassment! I had egg on my face.
And the Dali Lama said he’ll step down if China keeps up with the tomfoolery and/or shenanigans. If this happens, then I guess the Lieutenant Dali Lama is tapped for the position. If he is busy then I think it goes to Alexander Haig. And who fights with Tibet, anyway? That’s like shooting the Pope. Personally, I think they need a Tibet-themed casino in Vegas. That’d rock. I’d stay there. The Dali Lama greets you and blesses you when you enter and hands you some Pop Tarts in case you don’t like the food. Most of the games are won not with money or skill, but with “good karma.” They don’t have pit bosses, they have Sherpa’s. But they’d have to change the spelling to “T’ Bet.” Man, I’m an ideas man! I should get paid for my good ideas.
The Department of Justice admitted they had a breach of security when employees looked up confidential information regarding Obama’s passport (obviously so someone could send me yet another conspiracy e-mail about how Obama’s secretly a Muslim and he’s going to pull a Jim Jones and offer Kool-Aid to the U.S.). Again, people always focus on the negative. To tell you truth, I wouldn’t mind cyanide in the Kool-Aid if he can just get a stranglehold on the price of gas. I don’t know. Between the Department of Justice and the orderlies who looked up Britney’s last pap smear, I’m starting to think that people can’t be trusted. Especially that Joe Francis character.
Mike Huckabee is now winning the Republican race, it looks like. At first I thought he was stupid for staying in so long, but it looks like it has paid off! At least that’s what my newspaper said. I just hope the neighbor kids aren’t screwing around with my paper again. Like in January when they changed the 5-day forecast to 28-32-26-29-85 and I wore shorts and flip flops on Friday. Man, I must’ve looked like an idiot! Damn kids!
Anthony Minghella, the director of “The English Patient,” has died. If life imitated art, his funeral would last 17 hours and after it’s done everyone looks at each other and goes “…what??”
Jamie Lee Curtis has posed topless for AARP magazine. When she was in “Trading Places?” I’d have scrambled to buy the issue. Now? Not so much. It’s like watching 9 ½ weeks, but starring Bea Arthur.
Paul McCartney has to pay Heather Mills $40+ million. I guess they were married for 5 minutes, so she deserves some coin. She got used to a certain way of life. To pay for this he’s putting out a new single, “Yesterday (2008).” It’s kind of the same song but now he’s changed some of the wording. For instance the part where he sings, “why, she, had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say” is now “the stupid, sadistic, lying, one-legged whore … now I long for yesterday.”
Man, the news on CNN is almost depressing. I think I’ll flip it over to E! News and get the real truth.
I’m just saying…
Like, everyone is coming down hard on Elliot Spitzer because of his sex scandal. Poor guy. What everyone doesn’t realize, though, is that they didn’t just “do it;” they made love. People always focus on the negative. The situation reminded me of my first time. Not the first time I had sex, no, that’s a good memory. No, I’m talking about the first time I bounced a check to a hooker. Man, my face was red! And the $30 for sex turned into $60, because the hooker charged me a $15 return check fee and then so did my bank. We’re talking some very costly love making. Not to mention the embarrassment! I had egg on my face.
And the Dali Lama said he’ll step down if China keeps up with the tomfoolery and/or shenanigans. If this happens, then I guess the Lieutenant Dali Lama is tapped for the position. If he is busy then I think it goes to Alexander Haig. And who fights with Tibet, anyway? That’s like shooting the Pope. Personally, I think they need a Tibet-themed casino in Vegas. That’d rock. I’d stay there. The Dali Lama greets you and blesses you when you enter and hands you some Pop Tarts in case you don’t like the food. Most of the games are won not with money or skill, but with “good karma.” They don’t have pit bosses, they have Sherpa’s. But they’d have to change the spelling to “T’ Bet.” Man, I’m an ideas man! I should get paid for my good ideas.
The Department of Justice admitted they had a breach of security when employees looked up confidential information regarding Obama’s passport (obviously so someone could send me yet another conspiracy e-mail about how Obama’s secretly a Muslim and he’s going to pull a Jim Jones and offer Kool-Aid to the U.S.). Again, people always focus on the negative. To tell you truth, I wouldn’t mind cyanide in the Kool-Aid if he can just get a stranglehold on the price of gas. I don’t know. Between the Department of Justice and the orderlies who looked up Britney’s last pap smear, I’m starting to think that people can’t be trusted. Especially that Joe Francis character.
Mike Huckabee is now winning the Republican race, it looks like. At first I thought he was stupid for staying in so long, but it looks like it has paid off! At least that’s what my newspaper said. I just hope the neighbor kids aren’t screwing around with my paper again. Like in January when they changed the 5-day forecast to 28-32-26-29-85 and I wore shorts and flip flops on Friday. Man, I must’ve looked like an idiot! Damn kids!
Anthony Minghella, the director of “The English Patient,” has died. If life imitated art, his funeral would last 17 hours and after it’s done everyone looks at each other and goes “…what??”
Jamie Lee Curtis has posed topless for AARP magazine. When she was in “Trading Places?” I’d have scrambled to buy the issue. Now? Not so much. It’s like watching 9 ½ weeks, but starring Bea Arthur.
Paul McCartney has to pay Heather Mills $40+ million. I guess they were married for 5 minutes, so she deserves some coin. She got used to a certain way of life. To pay for this he’s putting out a new single, “Yesterday (2008).” It’s kind of the same song but now he’s changed some of the wording. For instance the part where he sings, “why, she, had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say” is now “the stupid, sadistic, lying, one-legged whore … now I long for yesterday.”
Man, the news on CNN is almost depressing. I think I’ll flip it over to E! News and get the real truth.
I’m just saying…
JB's Screwed me!
I was in JB’s having lunch and perhaps killing some time (I know, I know. Richfield + JB’s… listen to some Lynyrd Skynyrd and you’d have the white trash Trifecta).
Anyway, I ordered a club sandwich, mostly because that seems like an easy order and let’s face it—I am not too trusting of the chef staff at JB’s. The waitress was nice enough. She looked like she had been through the ringer. But I wasn’t there to judge; I was there to enjoy a nice lunch and possibly kill some time.
Well. My meal came fairly promptly and the nice waitress asked if I would require anything else to enhance my dining experience. Okay, she didn’t say it like that. I am paraphrasing to make it seem she wasn’t from Richfield. I said, “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble, can I get a side of tartar sauce?” You know, for my fries.
“Sure thing, sugar buns!” she said and sauntered off. Okay, there I wasn’t paraphrasing. This woman is obviously born and bred right here in Richfield.
A short time passes and she brings me back a white-ish substance. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and thanked her for her extra endeavor. After she had gone, I decided enough time had passed and it was now time to dip a fry into my tartar sauce. I would soon to learn to distrust JB’s, women and Richfield, all in one fail swoop.
This was not tartar sauce. It was ranch. Gross! Who dips their fries in ranch? Honestly? Well, I was understandably beside myself with anger. When the woman arrived to check on my dining experience, I told her of her mistake. She defended herself by saying, “That’s what you ordered.”
Now there’s trouble in River City!
I explained that I don’t order ranch—ever! Even when I get a salad I usually find myself leaning to vinaigrette or a nice pesto-based Parmigiano-Reggiano. I never order ranch! Never.
Long story short, I was not given tartar sauce or an apology. Even more vexing was that the “side” dish was not taken off my bill. This sets a very dangerous precedent! The purchase of salad alone could send Richfield into a complete tailspin! The restaurant business could suffer because of the negative hopes of an entire citizenry.
Anyway, I ordered a club sandwich, mostly because that seems like an easy order and let’s face it—I am not too trusting of the chef staff at JB’s. The waitress was nice enough. She looked like she had been through the ringer. But I wasn’t there to judge; I was there to enjoy a nice lunch and possibly kill some time.
Well. My meal came fairly promptly and the nice waitress asked if I would require anything else to enhance my dining experience. Okay, she didn’t say it like that. I am paraphrasing to make it seem she wasn’t from Richfield. I said, “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble, can I get a side of tartar sauce?” You know, for my fries.
“Sure thing, sugar buns!” she said and sauntered off. Okay, there I wasn’t paraphrasing. This woman is obviously born and bred right here in Richfield.
A short time passes and she brings me back a white-ish substance. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and thanked her for her extra endeavor. After she had gone, I decided enough time had passed and it was now time to dip a fry into my tartar sauce. I would soon to learn to distrust JB’s, women and Richfield, all in one fail swoop.
This was not tartar sauce. It was ranch. Gross! Who dips their fries in ranch? Honestly? Well, I was understandably beside myself with anger. When the woman arrived to check on my dining experience, I told her of her mistake. She defended herself by saying, “That’s what you ordered.”
Now there’s trouble in River City!
I explained that I don’t order ranch—ever! Even when I get a salad I usually find myself leaning to vinaigrette or a nice pesto-based Parmigiano-Reggiano. I never order ranch! Never.
Long story short, I was not given tartar sauce or an apology. Even more vexing was that the “side” dish was not taken off my bill. This sets a very dangerous precedent! The purchase of salad alone could send Richfield into a complete tailspin! The restaurant business could suffer because of the negative hopes of an entire citizenry.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I'm Having a Hard Time Sleeping, Revisited
So I've been having trouble sleeping lately. For the last few months I just can't make it happen. My mom says it's because I over-analyze things. I think too much. I don't know. Maybe. But I DID get to sleep last night, but I had the WEIRDEST dream. Quite unusual, even for me. So I'm driving my car, right?
I don't know where I was headed but I'm driving along, listening to AC-DC. "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman..." And I thought, wait. She WAS a fast machine, she KEPT her motor clean... so what about NOW? She's... slowing down a little bit and could really clean her motor a little more often? Yeah, that might fly in the 80s, but nowadays? I'll find someone else to shake me all night long. I'm just saying...
So anyway, I keep dreaming. Britney Spears pulls up next to me at a stop light. I feel bad for her. She has two beautiful boys, but I think she needs to have one more. I mean, I don't think she needs to GET pregnant, I think she still is. I saw a recent photo of her that the paparazzi took. From what I understand, it was taken outside a posh downtown hot LA night spot. She wasn't wearing any underwear and when she got out of the car, you could see her nether regions. I swear, she was dilated to at least a seven! I think there's one more kid in there and she needs to have it! And soon! She's in her 8th trimester! Her water broke in 2006. The kid's probably about two years old by now! Poor little guy. This whole time she thought she was binging. No, she's been eating for two! Kinda explains why she looked like that at the WMAs. I'm just saying...
So then I'm at Jessica Alba's house. I don't even remember driving there. All the sudden I'm there. Anyway, she's all over me and laughing at all my material. She'd tilt her head and say, "ohhhh, Don." I thought I was a shoe in. (That's not a "shoe horn" joke. I'm sure she's very pleasant.) So she gets up to go to the bathroom and Dave Madden (I guess he was there, too) comes up to me and tells me not to seal the deal. Why? I obviously ask. He tells me that she got herpes from Derek Jeter. Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa....whoa! No way! Dave swears it's true. But from Derek Jeter? I know he wears many hats as a New York Yankee; batter, fielder, spokesman, team captain, icon... but giving Jessica Alba bugs? I hardly think that's in the job description! But Dave Madden's a smart guy. I mean, he knows when to use the word "further" instead of "farther" and vice versa. But in my heart, I knew there was some credence to Dave's claims and let's just say, there was a bad moon risin.'
Do Jessica Alba? Get bugs. Don't actually do Jessica Alba, go home, have a session and THINK about Jessica Alba? No bugs. Hmmmm. Why did it have to be Derek Jeter?? I mean, hell, his agent should see if Derek could get $50 more dollars a year on his contract and get a years' supply of condoms. A-Rod is gonna get 67 billion next year, I'm sure that Derek Jeter could get another 50 bucks. He gives a whole new meaning to the term "around the horn." You know, when I was a kid, if someone got herpes, they'd say, "Oh, really? Hmmm, must have gotten it from a toilet seat." Now? If someone gets herpes? "Oh, really? Hmmm, must have gotten it trying to break up a double play." Good thing this was only a dream. I would be SO SAD if it were true.
Anyway, then, I'm at the mall and there's Christmas crap everywhere. My mom's there and she tells me that Christmas comes earlier each year. So I check the calendar. Christmas is on Dec. 25th. Every year. My mom is wrong about THIS, just like she was about global warming. So I'm next to a christmas tree. And I think, Why does every tree known to man lose its leaves but a pine tree keeps all of its needles? It's a Christmas miracle, I guess.
Anyway, a girl shows up, smiles, and tells me that she knows what I want for Christmas. She's always known. Her smile turns into a simple grin. Then I wake up. Not figuratively, literally. What a weird dream. I think I'd better start laying off the scotch before bed. My dreams are getting more bizarre by the night, it seems. Perhaps, I DO drink too, much, just like my mom says.
Nah. She was wrong about global warming, she's probably wrong about my drinking. I'm just saying...
I don't know where I was headed but I'm driving along, listening to AC-DC. "She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman..." And I thought, wait. She WAS a fast machine, she KEPT her motor clean... so what about NOW? She's... slowing down a little bit and could really clean her motor a little more often? Yeah, that might fly in the 80s, but nowadays? I'll find someone else to shake me all night long. I'm just saying...
So anyway, I keep dreaming. Britney Spears pulls up next to me at a stop light. I feel bad for her. She has two beautiful boys, but I think she needs to have one more. I mean, I don't think she needs to GET pregnant, I think she still is. I saw a recent photo of her that the paparazzi took. From what I understand, it was taken outside a posh downtown hot LA night spot. She wasn't wearing any underwear and when she got out of the car, you could see her nether regions. I swear, she was dilated to at least a seven! I think there's one more kid in there and she needs to have it! And soon! She's in her 8th trimester! Her water broke in 2006. The kid's probably about two years old by now! Poor little guy. This whole time she thought she was binging. No, she's been eating for two! Kinda explains why she looked like that at the WMAs. I'm just saying...
So then I'm at Jessica Alba's house. I don't even remember driving there. All the sudden I'm there. Anyway, she's all over me and laughing at all my material. She'd tilt her head and say, "ohhhh, Don." I thought I was a shoe in. (That's not a "shoe horn" joke. I'm sure she's very pleasant.) So she gets up to go to the bathroom and Dave Madden (I guess he was there, too) comes up to me and tells me not to seal the deal. Why? I obviously ask. He tells me that she got herpes from Derek Jeter. Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa....whoa! No way! Dave swears it's true. But from Derek Jeter? I know he wears many hats as a New York Yankee; batter, fielder, spokesman, team captain, icon... but giving Jessica Alba bugs? I hardly think that's in the job description! But Dave Madden's a smart guy. I mean, he knows when to use the word "further" instead of "farther" and vice versa. But in my heart, I knew there was some credence to Dave's claims and let's just say, there was a bad moon risin.'
Do Jessica Alba? Get bugs. Don't actually do Jessica Alba, go home, have a session and THINK about Jessica Alba? No bugs. Hmmmm. Why did it have to be Derek Jeter?? I mean, hell, his agent should see if Derek could get $50 more dollars a year on his contract and get a years' supply of condoms. A-Rod is gonna get 67 billion next year, I'm sure that Derek Jeter could get another 50 bucks. He gives a whole new meaning to the term "around the horn." You know, when I was a kid, if someone got herpes, they'd say, "Oh, really? Hmmm, must have gotten it from a toilet seat." Now? If someone gets herpes? "Oh, really? Hmmm, must have gotten it trying to break up a double play." Good thing this was only a dream. I would be SO SAD if it were true.
Anyway, then, I'm at the mall and there's Christmas crap everywhere. My mom's there and she tells me that Christmas comes earlier each year. So I check the calendar. Christmas is on Dec. 25th. Every year. My mom is wrong about THIS, just like she was about global warming. So I'm next to a christmas tree. And I think, Why does every tree known to man lose its leaves but a pine tree keeps all of its needles? It's a Christmas miracle, I guess.
Anyway, a girl shows up, smiles, and tells me that she knows what I want for Christmas. She's always known. Her smile turns into a simple grin. Then I wake up. Not figuratively, literally. What a weird dream. I think I'd better start laying off the scotch before bed. My dreams are getting more bizarre by the night, it seems. Perhaps, I DO drink too, much, just like my mom says.
Nah. She was wrong about global warming, she's probably wrong about my drinking. I'm just saying...
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