TWO FOR ME ONE FOR YOU

I'LL BUY A VOWEL FOR MY PRINCIPLE, PAT

2010-05-10T16:05:00.001-04:00

It's been twenty minutes and I still haven't come up with a good intro/segue for this bit so I say we just skip over the lead-in, thank God for Christina Hendricks, and jump right into the deep end.

Science has long been the last bastion of principle in a world eager to compromise. Look no further than Pluto. While some may have felt bad enough for the dwarf planet to over look its shortcomings (I know), scientists held firm and told Pluto it wasn't tall enough to ride this particular orbit and kicked it right out of our solar system. It is this uncompromising attitude which makes the blatant capitualtion that is ROYGBIV (ROY-G-BIV) all the more of an abomination. As all of you well know, our light spectrum has long been codified by the above acronym, Red, Orange Yellow, Blue, Indigo, Violet, yet I ask you, why is indigo on the list?

Why!?

Red. Orange. Yellow. Blue. Violet. These are all color we can relate to, colors necessary for your Crayola bare minimums collection. Indigo? Indigo is the angry retort your girlfriend gives you get when you ask her why she bought another blue dress. Indigo is the answer to a trivia question. Indigo is not an essential anything. The only reason indigo is in the spectrum is that it starts with a vowel. Admit it folks, the greatest service indigo has offered is helping science teachers across America avoid trying to say ROY-G-BV (Roy-gee-bvuh). We didn't let sympathy get in the way with Pluto and we shouldn't here either. It's time we put indigo to sleep.

On an unrelated note, I was watching a program on my DVR last night when I saw a commercial for that evening's newscast. The teaser featured a video of firefighters trying to put out a car blaze and an unfortunate blowback that nearly melted one firefighter's face. The voice over which accompanied the video, however, plumbed new depths of 'duh' previously undiscovered by journalists.

"Watch tonight at 11 and see how firefighting can be a dangerous job."

FIRE fighting. She didn't realize that we already knew that FIGHTING fire is dangerous? Hell, fighting a chimp cost a woman her face and she didn't even start it! To this woman it's breaking news that picking a fight with fire might be hazardous to one's health.

I weep.

FROM A TO B, VIA C-Z

2010-05-05T14:50:00.003-04:00

As most of you have noticed by now, I'm not the most direct thinker on Earth. I tend to be easily distracted; oft waylaid on my way to a point by an epiphanic jolt - a revelation of an obscure yet, at least in my mind, relevant connection, which soon leaves me navigating the tangents and tributaries of topics far removed from my original subject, turning myself into a veritable babbling brook. One might, if he were kind and perhaps fond of listening to babbling brooks on his/her sleep-sounds machine, say my brain prefers to take the scenic routes - so might Two for that matter, but no one seems to care what he and his fellow integers might do or think in this mono-numerical world in which we live and hypothesize.

While I might normally, at this point find, myself compelled to champion the cause of the "Greater Than 1's", opining on the motivations that belie our forgiving some prejudices but not others, today I'm going to stay on topic (if it's not already too late) and talk about things I don't understand.

Things it just occurred to me I don't understand:

- The Word 'Druthers' - I don't know if I've written about this before, but I find it odd that I use a word whose meaning is a complete mystery to me without ever wondering what I was saying. You don't know what it means either do you? No, don't google it. I've already done that for you and well, I'm even more confused. 'Druthers', you see, is a bastardization and contraction of the phrase "I would rather". Now most such shortenings catch on because well, they're shorter and thus easier to say, in the instant matter (lawyer in the hizzouse!) such is not the case.

Compare if you will:

"I'd rather they put all greater than 1's in jail, but then I'd have to close my 99 cent store."
"If I had my druthers we'd put all those crooked numbers in jail, but you know how they multiply when you start putting them together."

- Why would a terrorist have a "social networking" page? It seems kind of like a long term thing for someone in the field, you know? I could see maybe having an adult friend finder account (though odds are he's looking for a virgin... well virgins), but I don't reconnecting with lost friends is a rationale goal. I'm not one to stereotype, but I don't think a 10 year Madrassa reunion is in the cards for our friend.

Tangent: What are the odds someone will make a joke about social networking thing on a late night talk show without using the expression "I enjoy long walks on the beach"
- When did long walks on the beach become a stand in for personal ad? How many people out there have the opportunity to even take long walks on the beach and, of those, how many bother doing it? Even then it's not simple, sure you might enjoy it under the right circumstances, but it's not like it something you'd always want to do. First, and don't underestimate this, you have to enjoy walking, then you have to take into account environmental conditions:
  - sand temperature
  - crowds
  - the dangers of walking barefoot in the sand at night
  - the odds of getting mugged
  - whether you're OK with being seen shoeless on a date (not every piggy is fit to go to the market you know).

- Why do I feel bad for not having three things on this list?

I'M GOING TO GO WITH 'THIS WORLD' MAXIMUS

2010-05-03T15:41:00.003-04:00

Oh please, don't even try and pretend like you're too mad at me to read this post. We both know you're too happy I came back. That being said, my return has less to do with you (while I do appreciate your saving yourselves for me, we both know you weren't going to get your blog itch scratched anywhere else the way I do it) than it does a an unspeakable crime that happened over the weekend.

Almost all of you I'm sure have heard about the Times Square almost bomb, well, for some reason, most of you don't know of a more shocking trespass on our national happiness. I am here to rectify that. While parked in a mall parking lot yesterday, my car was viciously and cold-heartedly assaulted. My fender was dented and possibly scratched (it may just have been his paint on top of mine, it's hard to tell), a fog lamp was cracked and my innocence stolen. I left two empty slots on either side and parked in an lightly filled area and yet here I stand, victimized. There were no witnesses to the crime, no cameras - so conveniently present for more minor issues like the Times Square thing - to document the offense. There's no Homeland Security investigation or police task force. There was nothing but a beat up Buick with silver paint on its fender and casual disregard in its eyes. The police came and told me there was nothing they could do. The officer told me that despite what I'd seen on CSI Miami no one was sending a paint sample to the lab for comparison (to be honest based on the mismatching uniform worn by the Elizabeth police officer, I'm not so sure there even is a lab). I was alone and the problem mine own.

More than at any time in recent memory my destiny is not of my own choosing. I did not provoke nor did I invite an attack. I did not seek nor did I desire a war. Yet the true measure of a man's strength is how he rises to such moments and masters them. So, AMA-8655, I may not have wanted this, I may wish our paths had never crossed, but I will not shirk from the moment. This is a time for men of action, men of conviction. I will do what is hard; I will achieve what is necessary. I will hunt you down like the dog you are and leaving you wishing you'd fallen testicle first into an industrial-strength vise. This is a time for American heroes, a time for American vengeance. This is the time for me to reap what you've sown and I'm coming for you!

Also, if anyone knows how I might glean name, address and security code just based on a guy's license plate number, that'd be swell.

YOU'RE NOT STILL WALKING ARE YOU?

2010-04-13T13:21:00.001-04:00

Sorry for the long absence Readers. Between joining a gym, actually going to said gym and being the proud owner of a fancy new smart phone, I find my free time has become more spare than the shmorgasbord at a vegan wedding. Still, I could never completely abandon you and so I bring you, just in time for spring, an argument for the ages.

While not a member of the institution myself, most of my friends and co-workers seem to either be married or in long-term committed relationships. This vantage point allows me to study, Jane Goodall style, the mystifying prevelance of the phenomena known as "Let's go for a walk". I can't say with any certainty when "let's go for a walk" began. Perhaps it started in Australia where "Take a walk" means leave me alone. As in:

Female: Honey, we should go out tonight, it's so nice outside!
Foster's drinker: Oh, take a walk why dontcha?

While I applaud the sentiment of this noble descendant of thieves, debtors and people too scary to pass the Statue of Liberty's smell test, it was perhaps not the best choice of words. Australia has 529,000 square miles of desert, 18% of the continent is desert, only ten percent of the country is habitable, just look at this picture, how much green do you see? If you're in Australia and someone suggests going for a walk, they know you can't be serious. Unfortunately, as with all things imported from Australia, something has been lost along the way.

Ponder for a minute the history of man, his greatest achievements, his successes; the invention of the wheel, the boat, celestial navigation, the steam engine, the internal combustion engine, the automobile, manned flight, the highway, the transporter (more of a concept device at present, but I believe). All of these accomplishments serve one purpose, avoiding walking. Man has been trying to avoid going for a walk since he left the cave. Why would we willingly go for a walk? A walk that your partner will willingly admit has no purpose aside from walking itself. I don't mean to belabor the point, but the following are a list of options science has given us to avoid walking:

Unicycle
Bicycle
Tricycle
Motorcycle
Scooter
Moped
Car
ATV
Subways
Buses
Plane
Helicopter
Hang glider
Hot air balloon
Blimps
Dirigibles
Segway
The Uno
The Winglet
The Rascal
Wheelchairs
Skateboards
Roller skates
Roller Blade
Heely's
Ice skates
Skis
Snowboards
Hovercrafts
Canoe
Kayak
Sailboat
Yacht
Retarded Giant
Carriage
Gullible Parents
and many many more...

There's also sitting, but I won't get into that. Look I understand you think you like going for a walk, but hundreds of years of science say that it's outdated, outmoded and archaic. Let me put it in terms you can understand. Walking is the Zune. Sure you can do it, but none of the cool kids are.

A PROPORTIONAL RESPONSE

2010-03-03T21:29:00.000-05:00

I'm going to open with a bit of site news. For those of you who are unaware this little site, much like the awesomeness that was Better Off Ted, is a bit of a secret to most of the world. Or at least it was. I know this will come as a bit of a disappointment to the few of you who came here on your own for nothing more than the sarcastic nectar flowing from my fingers (Disclaimer: This site is run by a professional, if you're leaking sarcasm nectar or maintain sarcasm for more than four hours you should consult your physician as it could result in long-term damage to personal relationships and wallets.), but blog traffic has increased several hundred fold in recent weeks. While I wish I could credit this to a sudden rise in the IQ of people with internet access, or at least good taste, I'm afraid the truth is it's all thanks to Lindsey Vonn. You see, in my story about Ms. Vonn, I happened to link to several pictures of her in various states of swim preparedness. These links apparently pop up in Google searches I don't know how many of you are reading this now, but whichever of you are, please, trust me on this; I'm better than porn, well, unless it's good porn.

In other news the network administrator at my office has seen fit to block Gmail's chat feature. Now, those of you who have committed my blog entries to memory (it's all about the mnemonic devices people) are well aware that my favorite Newtonian Rule (what like you don't have one?) is the Third Law of Motion; To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. At this point I'm sure you're wondering why I chose the law of reciprocal actions when everyone knows all the money and women are in the second law. I'll tell you why, because the third law explains the fundamental concepts in interpersonal relationships, You paid me a compliment, I remember you fondly. You buy me a birthday present, I buy you one, You launch a nuclear warhead at my country, I launch one at yours. It's what keeps us safe and sane. Accordingly, the actions of my network administrator require a proportional response on my part. I imagine they expected that the result of their action would be more work on my part, but they failed to understand Newton, you see, the rule is equal and opposite. Opposite. Well, vengeance shall be mine. Let physics reign!

Interesting trivia fact for the day: Pumpernickel means 'Devil's flatulence' in German. Which is odd, because you wouldn't think the devil would have trouble with digestion.

WOULD THAT THEY WERE

2010-03-01T18:07:00.001-05:00

Have you ever found yourself halfway through a thought - a well reasoned, eloquently phrased gem of a bon mot - only to find yourself suddenly stunted in your narrative progress by the vagaries and caprice of grammatical chance? If you are at all like me, you are very lucky. You are also likely to have similarly suffered. I speak today of words that are not words.

I pride myself on being a man of logic (unless of course logic isn't on my side, in which case I consider myself a man of passion, unless that isn't on my side either, in which case I consider myself a man of action, to wit: agree with me or I'll act upon your face) and if a logical progression leads me down a road, I expect language to follow along with me. Sometimes, however, English decides that it isn't flexible, like a GPS that won't give you an alternate route (You know what, maybe I don't want to take the Belt Parkway, did you think of that smarty pants? Huh? Maybe I had a bad experience with it and would feel safer taking the BQE. I'll bet youe little micro-chip didn't think of that did it TomTom. And really, why should I take advice from the only thing with a dumber name than BillyBob anyway. At least BillyBob's two different words, you just sound like your toaster parents were stutterers, or really indecisive. We'll call him, Tom... Tom, yes definitely Tom, Tom it is.). Anyway, my point is, perhaps you find yourself telling a good story, and like any good storyteller, you want to make use of a rhetorical device or two, for example floating opposites. So you start your snide comment about your date the other night and you know you're going to nail the [gender neutral] for being a talkative bore so you start with "Well, [gender neutral] was overly chatty, but..." and just as your about to lower the boom, you realize that while English gave you "overly" it didn't see fit to bless you with it's antonym "underly". And so, instead of you being the sarcastic genius skewering your date, you're the kebab.

So yeah, that sucks.

I'LL TAKE FAT AND HAIRY, ALEX

2010-02-23T13:23:00.000-05:00

I came across an interesting article yesterday. Now, before I discuss said article, I'd like to take a moment to thank, or, as the people who still use the word 'bling' like to say, 'shout out' to Google Buzz for connecting me to Tony and to Tony, himself, for feeling compelled to share with the world that he is, scientifically proven, highly desirable to women.

As those of you who clicked the link already know (see what happens when you prepare?), the article details the results of a poll conducted on 2,500 women in England. The pollsters (so named because 'strangers who call you at home and ask you intrusive personal questions' has too many words for a job title) asked women what their secret turn-ons were and what they really wanted in a partner. Among the alleged discoveries:

The poll of 2,500 women also revealed that 91% would actually prefer a guy who had a few flaws over someone who is perfect. And more than half would rather a guy who was soft and cuddly instead of toned and muscly.

Apparently, the people at the newspaper reporting the story were shocked by the results. Going so far as to say:

'But these results prove that women secretly want something different. It seems women really do like a guy who is able to show a softer side, or who is carrying a little bit of extra weight.

'I'm sure it's a relief to men all over the country to find out that women aren't actually looking for that perfect guy.'

I don't know about you, but none of this comes as a surprise to me. I'll tell you why. They asked the wrong question. If these same women were given a multiple choice test featuring coventionally good looking men and Jack Black and were then asked to choose which one was most attractive, dollars to munchkins (I like them better than donuts), the answers would conform to People Magazine's expectations. However, once the question is personalized, what would you prefer in your man we leave the realm of the objective and enter the subjective zone. Now, much like Twilight Zone the Subjective Zone is a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind...a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. In the subjective zone the question isn't, is this man attractive, it's; How do you imagine you're life would be with this man. Would you be happy? Would he get on your nerves? Are you OK with men using hair gel?

Once those factors are taken into account we view the results differently. Women don't want a perfect man? OF COURSE NOT! Who'd want to spend their lives with someone who gave them body image issues? The question isn't, what do women find attractive it's, what would they be comfortable comparing themselves to for all eternity. Now if I asked you, do you think women want to date someone prettier than they are, would you be surprised by the answer? Didn't think so. If you want to know what women find attractive, or anyone for that matter, don't make their answer dependent on insecurities. That being said, thank God for insecurities.

NOT SO GREAT EXPECTATIONS

2010-02-18T16:30:00.004-05:00

So I've been thinking about this issue for a while, but I hadn't delved into it because, well, I didn't want to come across as a sexist or misogynist. Thankfully, today I realized that I've written stuff that's way more offensive to women than what I'm about to discuss so I don't have to worry (that logic works, right?).

My question is this: Why is Lindsey Vonn famous?

I grant you this question would be more valid if I'd had the testicular fortitude to ask it before she won a gold medal and ~~was in the lead for a second~~ crashed in her attempt at a second (though, from a notoriety point of view, if you want to get famous for failing you should probably do it this way; the unexpected is much more memorable), but I think the question remains valid. It's been widely reported that if, as she did, Ms. Vonn were to win a gold medal she'd command as much in endorsements as Michael Phelps (I think he's the one on the left). To compare, Michael Phelps is the most decorated Olympian EVER, Lindsey Vonn has a gold medal. Also, Michael Phelps has about 18 extra teeth, hang gliders for ears and, if possible, looks like a more retarded version of Eli Manning. Lindsey Vonn was in Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition.

This may have been obvious before, but if you're a reasonably attractive women, it's decidedly in your best interests to become an athlete. On a related note: If you're a dude and look like Michael Phelps or Eli Manning, you want to be a really really good athlete. Generally speaking, for women, the hotter you are, the less actual success you need to have, and thus the less talented you need to be. Ironically, given the apparent paucity of attractive women in professional sports, you even get graded on a curve. Not that I would ever rank women on a scale of 1-10 (1-100 is far more accurate, it's like using the metric system), but Lindsey Vonn isn't gorgeous. She's a pretty girl, no doubt, but she wouldn't be famous for being pretty if she couldn't ski. What people mean when they call her 'gorgeous' is really: Gorgeous for a woman's athlete. It's sort of the way you'd judge a white guy dunking a basketball or Sarah Palin's debate skills. It may not be accurate, but I guess it's the least we can do for ignoring the athletic accomplishments of less attractive female athletes the world over. See also: Danica Patrick

Not to be heretical, but I think Avatar falls into a similar category. As an unceasingly hyped, special effects heavy, blue giants with tails and a USB cable, 3-D movie, expectations for its quality were understandably low. When it failed to be the worst movie of the year, the relief that it failed to live down to those low expectations made people see it as a great movie rather than a good one. Those same low expectations that caused people to call Lindsey Vonn gorgeous, got Avatar an Oscar nomination. True story.

Poll to your left (mine too).

CHINESE TAKE OUT

2010-02-16T12:29:00.002-05:00

Sorry for the lack of posting last week Readers. I can't say I have a good excuse, but you should probably know I'm using my puppy dog eyes, so really, how could you stay mad at me?

That being said, I do feel much more energetic after the long weekend and plan a full posting schedule this week. Still, I probably shouldn't to commit to anything, not because I'm afraid of commitment, I believe that's currently in the 'debatable' category, but because a wise man, I think it was Schopenhauer, said, "your ego should never write checks your body can't cash". Maybe not, I tend to get my Nineteenth century German philosophers and 80's movie stars confused all the time. You'd be shocked how many times I mistook Hegel and his dialectics for the German terrorist Hans Gruber in Die Hard. Sorry Georg Wilhelm!

Anyway, I missed Valentine's Day and the start of the Olympics, two topics ripe for abuse and that kind of saddens me. I'll leave Valentine's Day alone for now because I'm still in shock that in Japan women are expected to give men chocolate and receive nothing in return. I know Japan's been taking a lot of crap lately, what with Toyota's accidentally setting land speed records left, right and tree, but I think we need to acknowledge their ingenuity for a moment. Sure, they eventually created a holiday on which men have reciprocate a month later, but it took over forty years for it to catch on. The best we could do was deny women voting rights for 144 years, how did that save me any money?

What? Too soon?

Speaking of things that come to soon, I don't think I ever realized how young most Olympians are until this year. I don't mean to say that it makes anything they do more impressive, I still have no idea why cross country skiing and target practice were combined. It's like a bad infomercial product - it's a toothbrush and a caulker! - it's just now I kind of feel bad for inventing a game where you win by picking the athlete who falls, crashes, or otherwise humiliates themselves most (By the way if you want the rules feel free to ask me in the comments section. It makes figure skating surprisingly watchable). Perhaps the most amusing aspect of the Games, now that my conscience has sucked the freude from their schaden, is listening to the announcers sing the praises of foreign nations training regimens, in particular, China. I was watching the pairs figure skating last night (double the amount of falls), when I heard the announcer wax on (wax off!) about how dedicated the Chinese pair was to their training, whilst apparently forgetting about the whole Communism/child abuse/human rights violations thing. The putative gold medal favorites, he told the story of how they (were) moved out of their homes when they were children, I think he said 8 years old but I can't confirm it right now (Knowledge drop: If you type Chinese and Zhang into the google search box, you don't narrow the field all that much). Anyway they were both living in these special athlete dorms (one for boys one for girls) when they met and got paired up. Eventually they got married and here's the kicker, they still live in the same dorms. The announcer, I imagine China owns his home loan, was trying so hard to play this up as a positive, went so far as to say, "Zhang and Zhang are among the most dedicated athletes at the Games, they're a married couple, but to further their success they still live in the athlete dorms in China, only seeing each other at meal times and during training." Of course, now that Mr. Zhang fell, I doubt she'll be seeing him at all. I'd like to see him spin that in 4 years. "Zhang and Zhang are skating for China, not to be confused with the Zhang and Zhang from Vancouver 2010. After Zhang's fall, the Chinese goverment executed her husband in order to pair her with a more competent skater, what dedication!"

P.S. Yes, I realize that I gave Zhang's new husband her surname. You wanna make something of it?

SUGAR HIGH

2010-02-05T11:31:00.003-05:00

Here are a few things that I've noticed while pondering whether I can get asbestos poisoning from accidentally snorting the topping off a powdered donut:

- Powdered donuts are really hard to eat. In case you were wondering, the proper procedure for safely eating a powdered donut without coating your lungs or clothing with confectionery sugar is as follows: Inhale, hold your breath, open your mouth, insert donut, take a bite and remove donut from the vicinity of your breathing apparati, inhale again. Repeat.

- The Apocalypse, or rather post-apocalypse seems to be quite popular at the movies these days The Road, Book Of Eli, From Paris with Love. Accordingly, I feel I've learned enough about life on post-apocalyptic earth to give you a bit of a preview:

Despite the fact that the nuclear blast destroyed pretty much everything, sunglasses and goggles will be available to all, you know, because glass is so not fragile. Hot women and heroes will also be lucky enough to get what appear to be scratch proof Oakleys.
In the post-apocalypse, dental hygiene is the new racism. You'll be able to tell how important someone is to your world by their teeth. If they have nice shiny ones, they're clearly key members of some unknown narrative. If not, they're pretty much the token black guy in a horror movie.
A fat, earinged, bald headed, post-middle-aged, John Travolta, will star in an action movie, as an action hero.

- Without Google I could not hope to spell the following expressions, many of which I use:

Hoi Polloi
C'est la vie
Je ne sais quoi
Que sera sera

- In a related note, do you think the French's profligate vowel usage is their way of sticking it to the Nazi's and their consonant heavy German?

- This is my new favorite website: http://www.unnecessaryquotes.com/

- When did not having plans for the Superbowl become the new, 'not having a date for Valentine's day'?

- Is it wrong to complain about having nothing to do at work? Or is this one of those situations where boredom doesn't get you any sympathy?

- Another related note: I don't mean to imply that I haven't had enough to do at work anything, but I've officially finished reading the internet. Spoiler alert: Bruce Willis was dead the whole time!

- It isn't hypocritical for you to judge someone for reading a Dan Brown book on the train as long as you were embarrassed enough to remove the dust jacket when you read it on the train.

- Is this post just a long list of tweets?

- This town should look into changing its name. This one too, now that I think about it.

- This was fun!

AFRAID OF THE HEAT

2010-02-02T11:07:00.001-05:00

I know I promised you a post on foreign language coloquialisms, but with my lack of computer I've found myself watching even more TV, (though surprisingly, not spending any more time working out) and so, I came upon something about which I must speak, America's Worst Cooks.

The show is on Food Network and it is, ostensibly, a show where professional chefs teach people who know nothing about cooking, how to cook, combined with an elimination competition. I don't want to get too wrapped up in the actual details of the show because that's not the part that made me weep for humanity, but in short, every episode the contestants are given a tutorial and then a challenge. The problem I envisioned for the show when I first saw the commerical was that it didn't seem like it could be all that entertaining. Sure the first week you'd have a few people setting fire to themselves and boiling sushi, but really, how hard is it to follow a recipe? They're just instructions afterall. Would you watch a show called America's Worst Home Playground Constructers. Ok, maybe you would, but would you watch it a second time?

Clearly, the producers of this show realized this would be a problem because they didn't cast the worst cooks in America. Sure, I grant you that these people are embarrassingly bad in the kitchen, but they aren't bad because they're bad cooks who don't understand flavor, they're bad because they are first and foremost America's most inept people in general. Forget cooking, you could have made this a show about setting up a computer and three-quarters of this cast wouldn't get past opening the box. There's a 27 year old 'homemaker' with three kids who apparently found making Ramen noodles beyond the realm of her abilities. I don't mean to judge, but if your job is to stay home and take care of your kids and you can't even make a box of mac and cheese, you're not a homemaker, you're a babysitter, a bad babysitter!

Another contestent on this COOKING show appears to be, and I kid you not, afraid of fire. A third, after making a crepe that was too salty for the judges to actually eat, announced that she'd finally found her purpose in life and wanted to go to culinary school. I don't even want to imagine just how bad she must have sucked at everything else in her life for her to confuse, 'complete failure' with, 'purpose in life'. It would be like Custer sending off a messsage to the President during the battle of Little Big Horn saying, "Look Mr. President, I know this battle thing isn't going that great, but I have to say, considering my complete lack of talent, skill and intelligence, I'm actually surprised we're doing this well! I'd like to pursue a career in this field." Also there are a few old people who get confused any time instructions go beyond three sentences.

I don't mean to say the show isn't entertaining; watching the guy afraid of fire try and sneak up on the stove all quiet like was worth sitting through a commercial, but it still boils down to one thing. We like laughing at stupid people because it makes us feel better about ourselves. So yeah, someone will win this competition and make food that rivals your mom's, but not because they learned to cook and others didn't. The winner will prevail because they have the mental capacity to reason out for themselves that raw chicken will at some point need to be cooked.

REQUIEM FOR A NOTEBOOK

2010-02-01T14:56:00.001-05:00

So I was all ready to write a rather fascinating piece on our usage of foreign language colloquialisms in everyday day speech when the fates interceded, as they tend to do whenever I finally find myself motivated, and killed my laptop. I know I've written about customer service before and jokes about tech support from India are as overdone as Donnatella Versace, but I think the overall gestalt of the incident is different enough to merit its own post. As such, I've recreated, E-True Hollwood style, the chronology of events for your pleasure and edification. In order to increase ratings for this particular episode and your respect for me overall, I have embellished certain details not germane to the outcome of the story. I have bracketed these instances in the interested of full disclosure.

Saturday night/Sunday morning: [After staying out late all night having fun and doing stuff I came home and turned my laptop on to check my e-mail.]. After spending some hours [not watching porn] online, I went to put it to sleep when it decided to go all "You can't fire me I quit!" on me and froze, a classic Tscaichovsky opening. I countered this ploy with the Mandrake defense, rebooting, confident said laptop would have forgotten my attempts to shut down its conscious computer mind and would awaken pliant and ready to be used for [things totally non-sports or porn related]. Instead, my opponent went to the mattresses and responded with the "I'm sorry, I can't" defense, allowing me to turn her on, but preventing me from accessing any of her fun parts by having the screen remain dark (I'll admit, in what may have been a moment of sexist weakness, that I had just assumed the artificial intelligence in my computer was male, but I think its clear by her behavior that this is the work of a female mind). At this point I realized I was facing a real competitor and stepped up my game, unplugging the power cord and letting the battery drain on its own. Then I went to bed and slept the uneasy sleep of a soldier in the theater of war.

Late Sunday Morning: After an early morning weekend dentist appointment (oddly enough that's actually true), I returned to the battlefield numb and and drooling. [I was ready for a fight.] Unfortunately, my laptop was done fighting and seemed content to go on living the life of a deaf mute, perhaps happy to spend her days contemplating the mysteries of the electronic universe. Either way there wasn't much left to do so I but the bullet and called tech support. After spending 30 minutes giving Rajit my address SSN, blood type and genetic coding, he informed me that my warranty had expired, but, becuase I was such a long time and valued HP customer (I bought one laptop from them 22 months ago) I was eligible for a discounted service. For only $99 they were willing to offer me all the telephonic tech support I could handle for one year or, for $49.99, I could get one time help on one issue. I asked Rajit exactly how he could help me over the phone given that the only button on my computer that did anything was the power button and I'd already tried that. He assured me that here were many things he could do ("Trust me my friends, there is many, many things I can do for you."), but I remained skeptical that any of them were computer related [he did however offer me a great deal on a time share in New Delhi].

Sunday Afternoon: After several admittedly pointless restarts and pep talks ("Come on baby, you know you can do it, let daddy see your big beautiful screen."), I started calling every friend I have with a computer science degree (You'd think they'd be free all weekend, but, surprisingly, no.). When this failed to yield any resluts I decided to try shame and put my laptop next to the basket I use for regular old snail mail.

Moday Morning: The denoument of this particular story comes about by backup free tech support guy. It might not surprise the advanced among you but here it is anyway.

Me: Good morning, I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, but I was wondering if I could abuse our friendship and treat you as a resource to be mined.
Free Tech Support Guy: I'd love to say no, but of course I can't without looking like a major douche.
Me: Wonderful. My laptop won't show me her goods.
FTSG: Have you tried buying her diamonds?
Me: I will not stand for sexual innuendo! Can we please focus?
FTSG: OK, your screen probably died.
Me: Died? It wasn't even sick!
FTSG: Yeah, it happens.
Me: But two days ago she was all bright and working! Wouldn't she have faded slowly over time, like a senior citizen.
FTSG: No, it's more like Conan O'Brien and the Tonight show. One day you're on TV at 11:30 pm, the next you're sitting at home counting to 45 million. Only you don't get any money and you'll have to buy a new screen.
Me: You know, even though this advice is free, I still feel like I got screwed.
LTSG: Thanks! That's what tech support is all about. Now if I could just get your blood type and genetic coding...

I BLAME THE CRETACEOUS PERIOD!

2010-01-27T14:12:00.001-05:00

Our favorite things, like midgets shipped Federal Express, come in small packages. The phrases that bring us the most joy are often just three words. There's: 'I love you', I need you', 'I missed you', pretty much the entirety of the 'I verb you' pantheon now that I think about. You have the more esoteric ones like,'You complete me', 'Strong Sexual Content', 'The Yankees win' and my personal favorite, assuming I'm on the winning end: 'You were right'/'I was wrong'.

I mention this because, despite all the amazing technological advances we've made since I was a child - I just bought my 7 year old nephew a pair of remote controlled helicopters, let me say this again, remote controlled helicopters, they fly!- despite all of it, it still doesn't take much to make me happy. Sure I'd like an iPhone an iTablet and the inevitable iClone, but I don't think I'd do anything with any of them aside from maybe looking at them and, if no one was looking, petting them (this may be a metaphysical question and thus a bit off topic, but does finding your own clone attractive make you gay or just a narcissist?).

I take pleasure from small things (Really? You found that funny? 'Small things'? I thought you were mature enough not to laugh at that), like the sign on the men's room door that says sprinkler valves located inside, seeing people misspell, misspell and the pain and suffering of others. Simple stuff really. Perhaps this is why the thing I most enjoyed this past week was a 10 second television clip.

I don't know if you've heard about this new show on Starz called 'Spartacus'. Essentially it's 'Rome' meets '300' meets 'Showgirls' only with more violence and nudity. Violence and nudity, you say; how could you narrow an hour's worth of violence in nudity into a favorite 10 second clip, you ask. The answer is simple, my ten second clip had neither. It didn't even have men wearing those breastplates with He-Man abs and Batman nipples. No, my favorite moment of the weekend was the 10 second disclaimer before the show even started. The disclaimer goes as follows:

“Spartacus is a historical depiction of ancient Rome’s society and culture. The intensity of the sensuality, brutality and language is to suggest an authentic representation of that period.”

Now aside from the fact that blood didn't fly in slow motion in ancient Rome and I doubt that getting freaky in the snow was particularly popular for people without the benefit of North Face gear, the disclaimer screams of 'Damn, did you know there was that much nudity and violence in this thing!?' Still, you have to admire the resourcefulness of these people. Rather than admit that sex and violence is good for ratings, they blame history, history, why didn't I ever think of that. After all, is it their fault ancient Romans were intensely sensual?

CONSTIPATED

2010-01-21T10:34:00.000-05:00

So I have a few ideas for posts germinating in my brain, but at the moment I seem to be incapable of turning those ideas into actual words so, for now, I'll give you a sample scene from the book. Hope you enjoy.

Way back when, when the soon to be Israelites were meandering about in the desert for forty years trying to recall how they’d confused good old ‘I am who am’ with the oversized bull from Wall Street, Moses faced a similar problem. Jews, even then, were a litigious bunch, and with an entirely new set of codes and regulations, loopholes and their corresponding lawsuits abounded. Now this was fine - especially for the lawyers - but, much like today’s judicial system, the courts, or in this case, court, found itself backlogged and overburdened. You see, for all his laudable traits, and I’m sure there were many (personally I think humility is a bit overrated, but whatever), Moses was a bit of a control freak. I suppose it’s understandable, you commune with God for a few days, carry his tablet down a mountain twice and all of a sudden you feel like you’re the only one who can explain what God really wants. So, Moses goes off and becomes God’s own judiciary, adjudicating his butt off eighteen hours a day five days a week from the relative discomfort of a bench in a tent. As you can imagine though, standing in line in middle the Sinai desert waiting for your case to be called isn’t anyone’s idea of a day at the beach, sand notwithstanding, and whether Moses knew it or not his customer service rating was taking quite the hit on Amazon.com. Anyway, this goes on for a couple hundred sunburns when along comes Jethro, Moses’ father-in-law (and inspiration to every delegater and contractor since).

“Moses” he says, “your people are suffering.”

Now Moses was a man of God and like most men of that ilk he was a bit of an ascetic and so he responds, “I know it’s a bit warm Jethro, but it’s a dry heat.”

Jethro himself was a former pagan priest so he knew that without having ritual human sacrifice as a backup plan keeping the people happy was mucho importante (Jethro took Spanish in high school, and, little known fact, was actually the inventor of the chalupa), so persists.

“Moses” he continues, “couldn’t you train a few disciples, teach them what they need to know so they can handle the basic stuff?”

Moses was intrigued at this point because really, ascetic or not, how many times can you listen to people fight over who owned the nasal spray (Like I said, it was a dry heat), so he says to Jethro, “You might be on to something here dad (Moses was respectful like that), but won’t the people complain if they have to settle for some schnook judging for them instead of me?”

Now as I said, Moses was a humble man, but even humble men can take pride in their work, so Jethro knew he had to play it safe if he didn’t want to hurt his son-in-law’s feelings – plus Moses still had that plague wielding staff and, after the whole smashing of tablets thing, a reputation for having a bit of a short fuse. “Of course they’d prefer to have you judge them personally Moses, but we’re in middle of a desert, and for all manna’s wonderful properties it doesn’t have much in the way of SPF.”

“This is true.” Moses replied, recalling with a bit of shiver the manna disaster of 2 p.e. “That stuff is like body oil. Aaron was practically molting.”

“Exactly,” said Jethro, “this way people can go to men they know you’ve trained and who report to you for their all small claims stuff instead of having to line up from here to the Red Sea.”

“Reed Sea.”

“We’ll see about that one, Moses.”

Anyway, after a few tugs at his beard Moses told Jethro he liked the idea and so division of labor was born.

THE RUNS

2010-01-18T13:24:00.002-05:00

Before we begin today I'd just like to take a minute to mention that the good folks over at The Vertex decided to carry a new and improved version of last week's post on the Mercedes commercial on their blog. It's a cool site, mostly because they think I'm funny, so check it out and you know maybe you can try the commenting thing. Anyway, onto the post!

Some people be allowed to shouldn't run. I know this may come as a chock to some of you, but when a lot of you run, you, well, you look stupid. I don't mean this to sound judgmental or controlling, because in all honesty if you running only made you look stupid I'd totally be OK with letting you run. I would. The problem is when some of you run, well you look SO bad doing it, it makes others wonder if that's what they look like when they run. It's kind of like that uncomfortable humor from the first season of 'The Office', only more depressing. Let me see if I can explain it better. You know how when you're watching a movie and a guy gets kicked in the nuts and, if you're a guy or Cher's daughter, you involuntarily cringe and cross your legs? Or like when you watch a guy ask a girl six 'mmm mmm's' out of his appropriate hotness mating index (AHMI for short; I like to pronounce it Amy and picture her as the brunette on Community because with the right hair and wardrobe she can slide in anywhere from average to damn she's Jewish!?) and you just know he's going to get humiliated and so you scrunch you face up all Renee Zellwegery and wait for the rejecetion to drop? Yeah, it's a lot like that.

It's taken some time, but as a society we've come to a general consensus that singing, dancing and telling your friends supposedly funny stories should be limited to people with natural ability or years of hard work and training. Sure we had the Karaoke club setback of 1988, and the American Idol casting episodes of the Aughts, but even they are more a tools for drunken mockery and self deprecation than genuine misguided belief in a non-existent talent. And yes sometimes your friends will say oh my god the funniest thing happened to me today, but now we've agreed that it's OK to tell them, "No, it didn't. Odds are it was barely even borderline amusing, I'm talking somewhere between Veronica's closet and a bad episode of Will & Grace. I'll tell you what, why don't you write it down and if you still think it's funny leave it in my inbox and I'll check it later." (We did all agree to start saying that right? Cuz if I'm the only one doing it I'm not really at the forefront of a revolution so much as I am the jerk about to get punched in the face.) Somehow though, running never made it on the list.

Well, I'm here to fix that and tell those of you who let you arms swing, who hold one hand on your bosom, who lean forward like you're trying to cut the wind with your skull; those of you who let your messenger bag flop around you like hooked rainbow trout; those of you hold onto your hat and keep your elbow high; those of you jiggle in many unsightly place and ways; those of you who sweat copiously in dark colored dress shirts. All of you, you have been put on notice. So please, for our sakes, just be late.

CAN YOU AFFORD NOT TO READ THIS? ACTUALLY, YES, BUT PLEASE DO

2010-01-12T10:33:00.004-05:00

So I was watching TV last night (and well, all the others) when a commercial for Mercedes-Benz came on. I know what you're thinking, "You watched a commercial? Is it the Superbowl already?" No, it's not, but, every once in a while, I like to eschew the use of my DVR and travel back to a simpler time, like say 2006 and watch commercials like the pilgrims did. Anyway, unlike most car commercials which tend to blur into faceless melange of 34 highway MPG and 0% APR financing for people who have enough money not to need it, this one caught my attention and by the end of the 30 second spot I was officially (I don't know that I could tell you how this differs from unofficially, maybe it's notarized.) offended.

Now don't get me wrong, I think they make quite the attractive car -- its the walnut burlwood on the interior that seals it for me -- though, in reality, I think, for the most part, people buy a Mercedes because it's expensive and everyone knows it. There's nothing wrong with that of course, if I had the money I'd arrange for a machine to make it rain every time I walked into a room. Still, a commercial is a sales pitch, so let's call a spade an undersized shovel, shall we?

Given that premise, you'd assume that ad agency hired to sell you a Mercedes would make use of this knowledge. I imagine slow languorous shots of blond maple wood grain would be involved, a bunch of people at the valet stand staring at you jealously as you climb into your Mercedes, maybe an impossibly beautiful woman going Anna-Nicole Smith on an old dude, you get the picture. Instead, this commercial went a completely different way, safety(I don't know why I'm shocked I mean who wouldn't feel safe putting their lives in the hands of the Germans?). It touted crash tests, reinforced cages, airbags in the trunk for your kidnap victims, a hydrogen peroxide dispenser to neutralize infection in case you get a paper-cut while counting your money, a digital face mask so that your more unfortunate relatives won't be able to recognize you and hit you up for cash at red lights and, I believe, brakes.

These are all well and good, necessary even if the trailer park's in walking distance to major roadways, but the part that really twisted my sheets (Note to self: I really will have to get into that whole top sheet thing sometime, it's like a Chinese finger puzzle in there) was the tag line. After spending all that time going on about how safe their cars are the announcer says: "Given all this, the question isn't 'can you afford to drive a Mercedes Benz?', but whether you can afford not to."

Apparently, the people at Mercedes Benz think so highly of their car that if you don't buy one, you clearly don't respect the lives of your passengers. It's true. In their minds, if you ask a girl out on a date, swing by her place to pick her up and she comes out to see you in a Lexus, she would be completely within her rights to hit you in the face with a pitching wedge (Sorry, Tiger). If you have kids,the good lawyers of Mercedes would advise them to seek early emancipation, or to perhaps call Angelina Jolie and ask if she's got any room left because you clearly don't love them. Your wife should, of course, leave you and offer her services to any man with a Mercedes. Now, obviously, there are more people who need to get around in cars than there are Mercedes owners so, it stands to reason, the good people at Mercedes think it's OK for Mercedes' owners to be polygamous and, if they aren't the committing type, to start their own harems. (Little know fact, Utah leads the nation in Mercedes ownership. Kidding.). After all, safety first.

It's the way the announcer says "not" too that gets to me. He's not just asking if you can afford not to but a Mercedes, he's accusing us of coming to the wrong conclusion. It's as if he's read your mind and knows that you've looked at your yearly income, factored in your expenses and decided to eat this year instead of buying a Mercedes and he's asking if you've really thought it through and if so, and somehow you still decided not to buy one, perhaps you need to talk it over with someone a little smarter than you. You know what Mercedes, I have a question for you, have you ever heard of Volvo!?

CRAZY SEXY... CRAZY

2010-01-07T15:30:00.001-05:00

So this is going to sound pretty terrible. It may even be terrible, all I'm asking is that before you say, "This is terrible!" and stop reading, you give the matter some thought.

I don't know if you've seen this story on the news yet, I myself only saw it this morning, but apparently some woman stole her son from her ex-boyfriend and disappeared with him. She wanted to give the baby up for adoption and he wanted to keep their son. Anyway she absconded with the kid (that's a great word isn't it? We should use it more often. Where's Mitch? Dude, he just ran out of here, I think he just absconded with your muffin. [While were on the topic of muffins, how did the muffin become an acceptable form of breakfast? It's just a cupcake, right? And cupcakes are really just single serving cakes. I feel like the cake lobby outsmarted us on that one.]).

During her time on the run she she sent her ex-boyfriend text messages saying she'd killed their son and he'd never see him again. She's since been captured and maintains that the kid is dead. Now I'm not particularly interested in this story, don't get me wrong, it's horrible, but you know, these things happen and my wringing my hands won't really help anyone anyway. The reason I'm bringing up this story is that they happened to put some pictures of the baby stealing mother and well, she's kind of hot. So here's my question and I apologize to my female readers, but this question is limited to the male audience and Tila Tequilla. Let's say the kid isn't dead; after all, the police believe she gave the kid to a nice family she found while on the lam (or is it lamb? It'd be weird if it was lamb, they seem peaceful). Let's just say they find him and he's healthy and happy and no worse for the wear, would you, and I ask this in all seriousness, tap that? I mean yes, she's clearly a bit troubled. Yes she may have stolen a baby, ransacked her boyfriends apartment and perhaps even put a frying pan through his flat screen, but, and this is key, she wouldn't be a murderer. I guess the question is how crazy would you have to know she is before you lost interest in seeing her naked. I don't mean this to be salacious, I just want to highlight that we, as a society, tend to tie the importance of personal attributes to physical ones. If she's crazy and pretty well the crazy becomes less important, if she's kind of nice and pretty, she's Mother Theresa reincarnated. I remember when Columbine happened 13 kids were killed four of them women. One of them was a drama student, and an actress. I know this becuase I saw about 6 retrospectives about her life, why her and no one else, well, perhaps because she looked like this (not that I'm saying a teenage girl was hot, I wouldn't do that, I'm just saying she'd be cast in a commercial or something, God, this is kind of terrible, oh well.).

2001 A GYM ODYSSEY

2010-01-06T11:38:00.001-05:00

I, like most people just shy of thirty (really more frightened than shy, but I'm not the one making up colloquilisms... yet), tend to view anything I did in my twenties as the recent past. For example, I thought it'd be fun to play basketball for an hour last year. A friend asked me if I wanted to join him in the game and, being mindful of the fact that I used to play all the time, I said sure. One collapsed lung, two pulled hamstrings, and several bouts of dry heaving later (This is a tangent but any time I make a list like that I think of the 12 days of Christmas song. Now I'm not one to bash Christmas songs, I think they're great, heck, I'd be loath to bet against 80% of the songs on the third Christina Aguillara Christmas cd being better than 'Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel', still I recently looked up the lyrics to the 12 days of Christmas and I have to say I was left wondering about the song's intended audience. Ostensibly, this is about someone getting their 'true love' a gift corresponding to the day of Christmas. Only, on the eighth day, the gift is eight maids a milking and the ninth day's gift are nine ladies dancing. I don't want to read to much into this but I'm pretty sure the number of people who'd thank you for getting them dancing girls and women with tireless forearms are limited to those blessed with the Y chromosome. Anyway back to my sentence.) I realized that the last time I'd actually played basketball had been about 7 years prior, which while recent in my mind, wasn't exactly the kind of pre-game warmup that prevents you from asking those circled around your prone borderline corpse if it's possible for your intermal organs to spontaneously combust.

I bring this up because I went to the gym yesterday. I used to go to the gym, granted I was 21 and playing basketball at the time, but I went. So when a friend called me out on my whole 'I'm going to start going to the gym next week', rather than saying, I forgot to bring sneakers and workout pants, I went out and bought some (Don't buy the Reebok workout pants, they have elastic at the bottom and well, I looked like a white MC Hammer). I don't want to say this was a mistake, but after work today I plan on filing for social security disability.

You see, I'd apparently forgotten alot about gymming. First, someone with a mouth as big as mine should probably be a lot more scared to be in a room filled with heavily muscled people and blunt metal instruments. Second, I'm very white. It used to be a gym could only humiliate you in one way; make you look weak and impotent. Not that I was OK with that, but it comes with the territory (plus, and I have no scientific data to prove this, but I'm incredibly virile, so my confidence in my boys was never too shaken). After yesterday however, I remembered there's a second way a gym can strip you of your manhood. Kickboxing. I know there are plenty of white people familiar with rhythm, but on the white spectrum they're more seashell to my cosmic latte (I'd call myself 'anti-flash white' but I know the words to 'Gangster's Paradise' and made an MC Hammer reference so I'm obviously disqualified). My point is, kicking is difficult for my 29 year old groin. Kicking high is both difficult and painful. Kicking high to a beat, is hard, painful and apparently, impossible. Only, everyone else, including about 20 women, half of whom have never seen the hungry side of a diet, seemed to think it was decidedly possible (Yeah, I'm not feeling to proud right now). Third, it's hard to respond to an instructor with witty banter when you're crying.

All of this is to say, is it possible 2001 was that long ago?

P.S. Yesterday's post was reprinted with a new intro and 100% fewer masturbation jokes on thevertexblog.com. It's a cool site, check it out.

IN THE LAND OF BLIND MEN, MASTURBATION IS PROBABLY AN ISSUE

2010-01-04T11:03:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year Readers. After doing some research I've discovered that this blog wasn't active last New Years season or in 2007, and well for that matter while it was active in 2006 I didn't actually do a post on it, so while this post isn't actually a blog tradition, its still a pretty good idea and those are rare for me most Mondays. So I give 2010's first list:

TOP 5 NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS TO AVOID

#5 - Don't resolve use your gym membership - You can resolve to join a gym, I think that's a perfectly reasonable use of the money you were going to give to charity. Going to the gym and actually using the machines, however, seems like it might be biting off more than you can chew. I mean it is, in actuality, three resolutions. First, joining the gym, then getting undressed, redressed and venturing out into the cold, then, once you get there, leaving the smoothie stand and, you know, pushing machines across the floor, or whatever it is people do in gyms.

#4- Don't resolve to learn a new language. First, you won't. I'm not calling you stupid (today). I'm just being honest with you. Unless you're moving to a new country where they speak said language, or you just came back from vacation from said country with a walking talking fornicating souvenir you will lose interest in your new hobby. It will begin to feel like work and you'll ask yourself why you're working in your free time. You'll ask yourself what possible upside there is for you in all of this anyway. You can't afford to go on vacation to anywhere where they speak the language and you don't know anyone here who does speak it, well there's that person at work and sure you could talk to her in some other language, but she already speaks English, and besides she talks too damn much as it is! Unfortunately, before all this happens, you'll think learning a new language is so interesting that you'll feel absolutely compelled, as if by the almighty hand of God Himself, to share all the little "fascinating" factoids you come across on your journey to failing at your resolution.

#3- Don't promise yourself you'll finish your book this year. Honestly, haven't you disappointed yourself enough already?

#2- Don't resolve to do something everyone wants anyway. That isn't a resolution. It doesn't count. We all want to stay healthy. We all want to make more money or 'be in a better place next year' Unless you have a plan for accomplishing any of the above we're just going to go ahead and call them wishes. Mkay? Though I'll tell you what you can resolve to do. You can resolve to have better wishes next year. What? You've never heard of superpowers? Eye lasers have no appeal to you? Do you even have a pulse?

#1- Don't become more emotionally open and available. The world is a cold hard place populated by people who make fun of the elderly and mentally deficient (why is everyone looking at me?). It is a place where a textlogue can turn your favorite friendship into an acid tipped knife that rotates in your gut with metronomic disinterest. You are trading safety and, at worst, mild discontentment for disappointment and rotating gut-knife pain. This alone should probably be reason enough for you not resolve to fill up the moat around your feelings, but since some of you are stubborn I'll mention this as well. Even if everything works out and your openness doesn't allow for the sacking of your emotional castle, it's still really annoying for everyone else who has to listen to you. At most, and most of you aren't this lucky, there are two people in this world who want you to share more, everyone else is on their knees praying hoping you have the decency to limit yourself to "not bad" when they ask "how's it going?". How about resolving to cut them all a break instead?

P.S. No, the title has nothing to do with this post but it popped in my head and I didn't want to forget it.

THIS HURTS ME MORE THAN IT DOES YOU

2009-12-31T12:09:00.000-05:00

I'm not very good at acting on my decisions. Perhaps it has to do with my tendecy to procrastinate, perhaps it has something to do with Newtonian physics. I honestly don't know. However, the fact remains, my deciding to do something and my actually doing it, are not the same thing. I bring this up because after about six minutes of deliberation I have decided I will start going the the gym. This will not be the first time I've decided to go to a gym. I have, in fact, even been a member of a gym. That gym has since closed - though they did wait until they'd charged my credit card for every month of that year long membership before they locked up the butterfly machine.

Still, in the intervening decade the idea of joining a gym has occurred to me on and off. In fact, I even went so far as to buy a Total Gym. The machine, was endorsed by Chuck Norris, the man who brought us the push down and most likely invented, based on the two torn rotator cuffs I suffered, by Torqemada. Unlike the actual gym memebership the Total Gym has proven surprisingly useful, making for a great paper weight, door stop and, most importantly, a clothes hanger.

Given this history a new gym membership may seem like a bad idea, but that's looking at it from a selfish point of view. Sure the odds are against my using this membership to its fullest, and in favor of my flushing $50 a month down the drain, but think of how many people will benefit from that money. My membership fees will help keep the gym open (as evidenced by what happened to my previous gym once my membership expired), keep trainers employed and most importantly allow men women to work out. My money will keep people in shape thereby beautifying the world in general. So yes, the odds might say this is a bad idea for me, and you may try and tell me 'I told you so', when I tell you I've gone once in the last 6 weeks, but that's only because you're too self-absorbed to see that I'm doing this for your own good.

UNINTENDED CONSETEXTES

2009-12-30T15:10:00.001-05:00

Welcome back Readers! I have some interesting news. It would appear a conglomerate of bloggers have been keeping abreast of this little here website and have decided they'd like me to share my posts with them. The details haven't exactly been worked out yet but the way I figure it, I got to use 'conglomerate' and 'abreast' in a sentence, and any time you can justify doing that, it's been a pretty good day. Heh breast.

In honor of this possible new relationship I'd like to talk a bit about the new hazards technology has inserted into relationships in general. First and, in my mind, foremost among these is the text. While I could probably do this post in bullets and just list 5 or 10 things with little quips I feel like texting has enough meat on its digital bones to allow me to avoid relying on our base ten number system. It has been my experience as one who says pretty much anything that comes to his mind that most people manage to avoid being in trouble as often as I am by simply keeping their mouth shut. Now, while I'm pretty much perpetually screwed by this pre frontal cortextual quirk, y'all aren't exactly safe either (What? Sometimes I wish I was Southern, it's not that odd). Thanks to the text people are able to talk without having to look at their subject. Now, while this feature has obviously increased the rates of hook-ups among the MTV audience, the boldness it encourages has personal effects for you as well (assuming of course none of you are teenagers or hooking up with teenagers. I frown on that just so you know, not sex with teenagers but teenagers in general. As I close in on 30 I've come to the conclusion that I pretty much frown on anyone younger that me. They make me feel old and that would make me frown, only now I'm worried about frown lines. So instead I frown on.).

For example, let's say you're having a textlogue (That will be my new words for a dialogue via text and no we can't spell it textlog because we do not recognize dialog as an acceptable spelling here) with a friend and you see an opportunity to make a joke. Now, if you're anything like me you make the joke (You're also devilishly handsome, erudite and lactose intolerant), if you're not like me (my condolences) here's the kicker, you might still make the joke. Yes, because texting removes the tension from a given situation, it allows one to be bold, to say things you'd perhaps be better served keeping to yourself. I suppose in and of itself that wouldn't be so horrible, but it doesn't end there. Texting, like herpes, is a gift that keeps on giving. Your joke, which was ill-advised at first, will, given the vagaries involved in tone and context not to mention response time issues, more often than you realize, be misconstrued, misunderstood miss independent.... sorry I may have gotten off track there. Kelly Clarkson aside, the fact remains your less than innocent joke will end up being an offensive joke. The reasons for this are legion. It could be a typo, it could be your text predictor has a dirty mind, or you have unusually fat fingers, it could be because given the context of your conversation someone made an assumption that turned what you said on it's head. The point is it doesn't really matter how or why, the fact reamins that the inevitable consequences will ensue. Offensive joke will lead to a retaliatory text strike, which, unlike yours, is meant to be mean and offensive. This, according to NATO treaties, will require you to fire back with your own ill-intentioned text bomb until you've destroyed a friendship because your T9 thinks it's more likely you meant 'eating' than 'dating'.

Is there a solution for this? Yes.

Will I share it with you? Yes.

Just call my hotline at (900) TEXT OY. Calls are $3.95 for the first minute $98.05 for each subsequent minute, average answer length depends on the credit limit of your chosen charge card. Also, 42.

CUTTING THE TAG

2009-12-22T12:31:00.002-05:00

I'm not a spontaneous shopper. I am, by nature, cautious. It's not that I'm cheap, though I'd like to be, I just really hate losing. Sad as this may be to admit, the mere thought that I might buy object X and then see it cheaper somewhere else, or find a better version, lets call it X+ moments after I cut off the price tag, strikes fear in my heart; it sends tremors down my credit card hand. Because of this, I hate the hard sell.

You know the hard seller, the store employee who follows you around complimenting your taste and selection, telling you what a good deal it is and how you better jump on it now before it disappears. Then, when you're home and your purchase is inevitably too loose or tight or redundant, and you feel cheated and want to return the item the hard seller has already moved on, like the girl you dated despite everyone saying she was too hot for you, only to find yourself asking "why?" as you paid for the cab taking her to the apartment of her 'friend from the gym'. Yes, like her, when you come to return your lightly used item the hard seller is busy whoring herself out to some other man, complimenting his selections and sense of style, telling him how they're supposed to fit like that and that undersized is in this season. When I walk into a store and someone asks me if I need help, I flee. I take to the hills like an Afghani (that's an odd place for an 'h' don't you think? Very Delhi) rebel and hope they latch onto someone else before they can reacquire my heat signature.

This, in some length, is why I love book stores. There's no hard sell, no seductive siren sashaying herself (that my friends is alliteration at work) down murder mysteries telling you how reading a Raymond Chandler on the train will perfectly compliment your ensemble and make you irresistible. It's just me and time and books. Or at least it was (cue mood music). Borders, it would seem, has decided to put the hard sell on me. A member of the Borders Rewards Club, I receive coupons in my email, these coupons are valid for a number of days before they go the way of your local Blockbuster and expire. I appreciate these coupons, I do, but I think I've earned them through my patronage, so imagine how I felt when instead of just sending me a coupon and leaving it at my discretion how and if I'd use it, they begun sending me daily emails counting down the days until my coupon expired.

- Only 3 more days left to get your 30% off
- Act soon, your coupon is set to expire!
- Your last chance for savings!

I can feel them closing in on me. It's like I'm in the dressing room, the hot spotlight shining down on me in that conveniently renamed prison cell while the siren stands outside asking what I plan on keeping. They know I don't want to lose my 30% they know it will irk me to think that I might end up buying a book at full price instead. They know this and they abuse their power. Well, I have news for you Borders, it turns out I don't even care after three or four drinks. I find if I have a few drinks in me by the time your email comes in at 9am I can get through the day on nothing more than two shots and a six pack. So you see, I've solved the problem, you can stop reminding me my coupon is about to expire... please?

On an unrelated note, does anyone happen to know anyone who doesn't plan on using their liver any time soon?

RULES AND MEASURES

2009-12-21T12:49:00.001-05:00

Have you ever noticed that you hold certain beliefs about yourself that are, to put it charitably, at odds with objective reality. I’ll give you an example that seems quite pervasive, height. My height has changed over the years. I don’t mean this in the literal sense. I stopped growing about 10 years ago and have been at least three different heights since then.

When I was growing up my mother would stand me up against a wall and, using her thumbs and a tape measure about half my actual length, determine my height. The process was not particularly scientific and resulted in statements like: “You’re somewhere between 5’8” and 6’4”.” Now, while I tried to stay level headed about these numbers (I thought taking the average and calling myself six foot even seemed fair, plus I have freakish jumping ability for a white man and, if I was really 6’4” I’d probably be in the NBA… let’s just say height isn’t my only misplaced belief), the truth is I allowed her optimism and questionable engineering skills to color my self-opinion. I’d go to a doctor and get measured with actual equipment designed for the task, he’d say I’m 5’10” and the following exchange would take place:

Me: I’m six foot
Doctor: No, you’re really not.
Me: I’m more than 5’10” though
Doctor: 5’10” and an eighth of an inch, if you want to get technical.
Me: AHA! You admit I’m taller than 5’10”
Doctor: Would you mind getting undressed again and laying down on the table over there, I think I might need to run some more tests on you.
Me: OK, how about we compromise and call it 5’11”?
Doctor: Hold on just a second I’m going to give you a prescription for some mood enhancers.
Me: My mood is fine.
Doctor: They’re for your girlfriend.

My doctor’s dry wit notwithstanding, I spent about 5 years at 5’11”. They were fun times. Eventually though, I had to give up the inch. It was painful, like a second circumcision, but I found that my own version of reality had, like congested pig, begun infecting those of others. Those of you without tape measure wielding mothers, I have found, often use friends and co-workers to ascertain their height. A conversation between two women standing 5’1” and 5’2” might go something like this:

Short girl: How tall are you?
Shorter girl: 5’3”, how tall are you?
Short girl: Well, I’m taller than you so like 5’4”, 5’5”.

These conversations are repeated over and over until everyone’s height is based on some myth created by a tape measure I won in third grade. I even shrunk my law school roommate. I dont know what any of this means, I don't know if a lie is any more or less offensive if the person telling it believes it to be true, but, between this and adult dating sites I think we're going to make the ruler obsolete soon.

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE AND WHEREFORE

2009-12-16T11:37:00.004-05:00

I know it's bad form to follow a post criticizing The Stupid, with one poor about poor grammar, but the two are closely related and really, since when has bad form ever stopped me? I was in my car the other day when I heard a Visa commercial that epitomized exactly what I'd been railing about with The Stupid. The commercial, in short, is about Romeo and Juliet, only in this case there's no Romeo.

Juliet calls out "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" and receives no response. Now, despite being one of literature's most romantic characters it would appear Juliet was a bit of a shrew, because when Romeo doesn't answer she repeats in a tone of voice clearly meant to imply that suicide or not he won't be getting a kiss goodnight, "Romeo? Wherefore art thou?" Apparently this is also taking part in a forest because now you can hear Juliet stomping through the Bush so maybe they've moved the play from Verona to the Australian Outback, I don't know, but after ignoring her the first two times, she's clearly lost patience with the man who'd she'd rather die than live without and growls, "Romeo!"

At this point the annoyingly saccharine announcer dude who's been doing these "Priceless" commercials since what feels like the Clinton Administration comes on and says something along the lines of; "Maglite flashlight $25. Always being able to find your Romeo? Priceless." Now ignoring the fact that anyone who pays for love with a credit card probably won't stay Governor of New York all that long, this commercial is still stupid. Do you know why? Of course you do, still, I'll tell you. It's because 'Wherefore' doesn't mean 'where?', it means 'why?' 'As in where is the reason for?' This is something you learn in ninth grade. It's not possible that the people who wrote this commercial didn't know what 'wherefore meant'. It's just not! They knew what it meant and they said, screw it, most people are stupid and think it means 'where'.

Visa commercial writer people, I hate you.

Still, they aren't the only ones. Microsoft, the home of nerds the world over is guilty of pandering too. You'd think a company that for decades has treated the term 'user friendly' the way David Hasselhoff treats O'Douls (Congratulations David you've finally made it into the blog, you should know, I was going to use Lindsey Lohan, but I decided you were the more pathetic fall-down drunk. You should be proud of this moment. Call your mom, just remember, you can't actually talk to her through your watch.).
Now, in their rush to compete with Apple, Microsoft is chasing after The Stupid, touting their user friendliness and, it would seem, dropping any and all pretense that their machine requires a modicum of intelligence. The print ad is for Microsoft 7 (apparently in pandering to The Stupid they also decided it was best to use as simple a name as possible, really? Vista was too big a word?), it's a billboard which reads: "I asked for less clicks, I got less clicks." Something sounds wrong right? I'll tell you what's wrong it's FEWER clicks. Look I can explain why this is wrong, or you can take my word for it. I sugesst you take my word before I devolve into a letcure about adjective noun agreement. Just know this, the good people at Microsoft, the people who invented the little green squigly line that pops up under less when I typed 'less clicks' in this friggin' post know it's fewer, they know and they said screw it, less sounds more populist.

Now I ask you, who's left to pander to us? Quick, someone get me my Visa card!

ON STUPID

2009-12-11T11:31:00.001-05:00

As the color sighted among you have most likely realized, we have a new look here at Two For Me. I think with the blog's shift in focus from, 'things that bother' me to a more general advice and observation topic base, a concomitant shift from the darker backgrounds of yesterblogs to today's lighter color, is fitting.

My question to you today is, how long should we fight stupid?

I know that as readers of this blog you are, statistically speaking, far less likely than your fellow non-readers to be stupid, or hold stupid beliefs (especially those readers who have called me 'a genius' or said something I wrote is the 'funniest thing I've ever read'). I'm sure that, like me, you are faced with an unending cavalcade of stupid. I'm also sure that The Stupid infuriate you, that they dig their way into your skin, gnawing at your external safeguards like a disease ridden tick, infecting you with first rage, then acceptance.

First though, I have to warn you; I'm not here to deliver good news. This is no Marathon, the war was fought and lost long ago. This isn't even Thermopylae. It isn't some battle in the midst of a larger war. Our massacre won't cause any to rise up their own army and fight back. The Stupid have won. We are, much like the delicate Cassowary, endangered. We are guests of The Stupid, our presence tolerated and accepted; necessitated only by the need for more Apple products (seriously, have you seen their new mouse?) and Malcolm Gladwell books.

Still, much like our flightless if gloriously plumed mascot, we are proud beings. We are cursed with knowledge and with that knowledge comes the corrective urge. 'It's whom, not who', 'fewer, not less', 'passers by, not passer bys', 'You're pants are on backwards'. We can't help it. We see an error and our nature urges us to correct it. We hear a co-worker state in simple and unequivocal terms that snakes aren't animals because they're reptiles and, no matter how much we try to just nod and move on, our eyelids develop a twitch. We don't want to correct, we need to.

The question then becomes, how hard to we fight to correct? Remember, these are not people looking to be corrected, they are not seeking proper understanding. They fight back, they have forced us to spell dialogue, dialog, and pronounce the silent 't' in 'often'. They have taken the notorious from notoriety and put the lie in laying. There are no objective truths, only their opinion. Allow me to illustrate by recounting for you a conversation I had earlier this week:

The Stupid: Snakes aren't animals, they're reptiles.

Me: Reptiles are animals too, you don't have to be a mammal to be an animal

The Stupid: Right, you just have to be warm blooded, snakes aren't warm blooded

Me: No, warm blooded has nothing to do with it. Dolphins are mammals too.

The Stupid: Right, like sharks!

Me: No! sharks aren't mammals.

The Stupid: Well then what are they? They're not reptiles.

Me: Reptiles ARE mammals! And they're fish!

The Stupid: Well snakes can't be animals.

Me: Why not?

The Stupid: Cuz I like animals and I don't like snakes

Me: (brain aneurysm, followed by): So if you did like snakes they would be animals?

The Stupid: Do you have any candy?

I reproduce this not to embarrass the stupid, because as has become clear to me The Stupid feel no shame. Truly right and truly wrong are not important factors in their self image. Thinking they are right, is all The Stupid need and in most cases, nothing you can say can change that thought. Take this guy for instance. He, as his t-shirt explains, has clearly decided that any attempt at improving himself would be messing with perfection. It's like the 300 pound woman wearing spandex and heels. She has reverse anorexia, where we see exatra chunky oatmeal trying to escape the confines a hot pink Ziploc bag, all she see's is lots of sexy. They all have it, and nothing we can do can ever break their mirror.

So, to offer one view I posit that we go as far as we can. We do the Cassowary proud and shake our fists, or in the Cassowary's case our funky red dangly things and fight until we can fight no more. We push until they ask for candy and then push some more and then, if we're lucky, maybe, just maybe, they'll exile us; take us out of the wild and put us in a zoo somewhere where can be alone together building iPods.

ON FRIENDS: PART II

2009-12-08T16:02:00.004-05:00

Last we met I was explaining to you how the term 'Friend' was overly broad and promised you a more useful and satisfying system. Since it snowed and rained this weekend I couldn't find anything better to do and have thus prepared this for your life changing pleasure:

THE MEANING OF FRIENDSHIP

Much like your favorite swear word, these terms are flexible. You can use them as nouns, adverbs... actually thats pretty much it. Still, if you want, you can tell someone its a past partciple, odds are they won't know better.

- FRIENDLIES - Much like fellow combatants in different battalions, you and your Friendly are on the same side, part of a larger group but when you go on your standard mission, you leave them behind. They are those that are part of your larger 'crew' but through no fault of their own haven't made it to your inner circle. You may share similar interests with these people, even genuinely like them but, when all is said and done, it's just too much effort to assimilate them into your life. Instead, you have an ad hoc relationship, 'friends' whenever your're together but never chasing each other down on your own. Friendish.

-FIFL's - Short for friends in a former life. You know how you and Josh were tight in high school? You know how you were sure you'd be friends forever and how people always said you guys will always be friends? How you assumed your friendship would survive through college and work and girlfriends and wives? Well, it didn't. The problem is both of you are clearly whiny little girls (friends forever was kind of a tip off) and are unwilling to admit this fact to yourselves or each other. You still call each other friends even though you dont actually call each other. Well since neither of you are man enough to cut the cord, and are obviously offending the idea of friendship by continuing to stretch it like contortionist's groin, I give you FIFL.

- FRIENDISH - No, despite how it may sound these aren't a race of beings from Middle Earth. The Friendish are products of circumstance. You associate with them, consider yourself to be on the same side but you're only connected because of an outside agent. People on this list would co-workers people you're friends with in camp and anyone else with whom your friendship is part-time. A subset of this group is the 'friends in small doses' these are people you spend limited time with but whose company you generally enjoy... in small doses. I had a friend in camp who I thought was the funniest person on Earth, after me. We went to high school together, but we never associated until camp. After that summer I made a concerted effort to spend more time with said friend, whereupon I realized, he got annoying fast. I quickly downgraded him to 'Friendish' and have enjoyed his (limited) company since.

- FWOB - Society at large, obviously suffering from the agony of 'Friends' being overly employed, spontaneously gave us 'Friends with Benefits' While I appreciate Societies input I think the much larger group of 'Friends' was ignored, namely 'Friends Without Benefits'. FWOB's consist of men or women who are head over heels for Friend X whom, if they ever had the chance, would kill to turn into 'Friend XXX'. FWOB's, and you know who you are, have either decided that their best route to X is proximity and hope, or that they'll never be able to consumate their love, and are willing to accept whatever X is offering instead.

Have any more? Feel free to add in the comments section. Just don't expect to get credit for frenemies. Oh, and of course you're all Friends to me...

ON FRIENDS: PART I

2009-12-02T17:17:00.001-05:00

So I've been thinking about friends lately. Not actual people mind you, but the idea of them. The jokers among you might say this is because I don't have any (bite me), but the truth is, I am having some trouble with the broadness of the word. Like the rice noodle http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rice_noodles, the definition of important words should be narrow. For example, when I say 'tax' or 'nudity' or 'you're a douchebag' you know exactly what I mean (In the case of 'nudity' this is true even at the acronym level. I doubt there is a man over the age of 13 who couldn't tell you what BN stands for at the beginning of any cable movie let alone N or SSC. Oh just google it girls.). Now while 'Friend' is a similarly important word and should, likewise, be narrowly defined, it is instead given the Chow Fun noodle treatment http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beef_chow_fun, its definition broad and unwieldy. Sure we have 'aquaintance', 'this person I know', 'the person with whom I have an embarrassing sexual involvement' and many other terms we use when 'Friend' does not suffice, but what about when friends does suffice? What does the word mean when it can encompass the guy you met a month ago who lets you play with his Xbox360 (God, you people have dirty minds!) and the person with whom you share a deep and secret love for Battlestar Galactica (I mean if you like that kind of stuff... Not that I do, though if I did it would be totally justified given that "Rolling Stone" called it the best show on TV two years in a row. I'm just saying... if I was a fan.). The word is demeaning. It denigrates the value of individuals and lumps them all together like some kind of communist mixer. I'm surprised Fox News hasn't accused Barak Obama of creating "friends". (The word not the show, if he'd created the show I imagine he'd have been President a while back and would now be sitting on a beach somewhere retired. Also and this is probably a minor point, but am I supposed to know the difference between socialists and communists? I feel like I am.) For these reasons, and because I like naming things, I submit that we do away with the word's usage as currently employed, and instead create a hierarchy of friends, a new lexicon with easily identifiable prefixes and suffixes that identify just how close you really are with friend X.

Tomorrow: The hierarchy is revealed!

REGULAR, DECAF OR EMPTY?

2009-11-27T12:00:00.001-05:00

I feel like I owe you after spending much of October and November mocking you all for having to work on national holidays like Columbus Day, Veteran's Day, National Vinegar Day, Plan Your Epitaph Day and Notary Public Day http://www.classbrain.com/artholiday/publish/article_220.shtml to admit that I write this from my office, the day after Thanksgiving. So, as you sit at home, enjoying the digestive and excretory processes that complete the circle of last night's gustatory orgy, cherish this day you have off that I do not and ponder this:

How much do drinks cost in TV world and are all characters in it profligate spenders?

Have you ever noticed how when characters order a drink at a bar they spend much of the time talking, then, two or three minutes into the scene, the drink is delivered, but by this time, one character is ready to move on? No? Well let you me tell you what happens. Because I am not what you'd call a drinker, I still find the price of cocktails and other alcoholic beverages at bars shocking. I'm not saying they're overpriced I'm saying they're movie theater priced. The kind of pricing that leads you to regret having stopped reading newspapers and never bothering to re-locate the channel for CNN when your cable provider reaaranged everything that time, because now you're left wondering if unbeknowst to you the government has collapsed, food has become scarce and the time to start digging that bunker you decided to make for yourself after reading "The Road" is now in your rearview mirror. (I may also be unreasonably cheap, this has been suggested, though I did just tip a waiter last week, so I'm clearly not) Anyway, this character who for reasons beyond my understanding felt the need to order a drink even though he's leaving the bar in 180 seconds, stands up takes a sip from his drink, says something to the person he was conversing with, puts the drink back down slaps down a twenty on the bar and leaves. This happens at leats two or three times a night, more if you're flipping during commercials and I find it annoying every time. To me, that, not the Miss September playing a marine biologist, is the most unrealistic aspect of TV, it's like the writers aren't even trying. At least the casting directors have the decency to make Ashley, Amber or Tiffani wear glasses and a bun, like all those other marine biologists.

While we're on the topic I thought I'd also bring the coffee shop scene. My problem here isn't quite as prevalent as with the bar, but, in scenes in which a waiter or waitress is walking around with a carafe and filling up those huge ceramic cups every coffee shop on TV has, how is it that these people are OK settling for what is at most a third of a cup of coffee? I understand it'd be weird on TV if the waitress had to keep going back for more pots of coffee, but you need to pour for a good three count if you're going to get anywhere near a full cup and these guys dont even get to two!

COVER JUDGING

2009-11-24T16:03:00.000-05:00

I didn't sleep much last night and my brain is lagging several steps behind my fingers, but you don't come here for filtered speech anyway. So, on with the show. I played this game called Mafia the other night, for those of you not familiar, its essentially Clue without clues. In the game, everyone is assigned a role, some are murderers some are detectives, some are peasants, and, depending on your part, you have to either fool your competitors and live to kill another day, or convince your teammates that someone is the killer and kill him back. Now I think its important to point out that these roles are not chosen, but rather assigned by the picking cards, they're essentially random. So, logically speaking, the odds of the killer being the same person every time are quite low. Accordingy, you'd think that the players would vary their guesses. It would seem however, mathematics wilts in the face of what is apparently my homicidal well... face. Time after time I found myself dead, the victim of some ineffable quality that makes people think I'd enjoy watching them die. 'I look guilty' they said, 'there wasn't a real crime!' I retorted, 'we should probably kill him, just in case' they concluded.

All of this is a long winded way of asking you, is it possible I'm supposed to be a serial killer? Did I miss my calling? Sure there are some obvious signs: the long list of people I want to watch die, my being paler than an agoraphobic albino and my watching the entire 2009 Best All Around Taxidermist Competition at the National Taxidermists Association Convention. (It was ESPN 85, the Ocho Cinco)http://www.taxidermy.net/ Still, I don't want to give up the whole law thing on a whim. Is it possible that there's something in my face, my demeanor that was meant to kill? I do respect the concept of destiny, and it'd be a shame if I ignored my designated fate. After all who am I to argue with that which is predestined? What defense would I have to not spending my life murdering and possibly eating the duodenum of my victims (I forsee them calling me the Acid Reflux Killer) when I approach the pearly gates? How could I explain a life devoted to helping others and encouraging harmony (were clearly speaking hypothetically at this point) when cannibalism is expected? I guess what it comes down to is this; Do you think serial killers get the Friday after Thanksgiving off?

SOMETIMES MATTER MATTERS

2009-11-19T11:06:00.001-05:00

Sorry for the slow posting week, readers. No, really I am. Not because I've let you down mind you, but because the paucity of posts is indicative of my actually being required to work this week. Still, I've saved up quite an array of theories, observations and complaints in my head so don't feel too cheated.

BULLET POINTS!

I was on the train last night, sans book, (A major oversight on my part. As a general rule the maximum acceptable length of a subway ride without reading material or an iPod is 10 minutes) and so, found myself reading the advertisements (I wish I could pull off say ad-VER-tis-ment) on the walls. Nothing against Dr. Zizmor, but it's rare than any of these signs stokes the intellectual fires, you know? Yesterday, however, was an exception. One ad struck me as being so blatantly absurd as to render it paradoxical; kind of like how people sometimes think Keannu Reaves is deep. The ad was, as 58% of all advertisements now are, for 'man problems'. It read, in part, "Don't let Impotence Ruin Your Sex Life". It's probably safe to assume that you all know what impotence is, but I think this makes for a good opportunity (excuse) to bust out some of the euphamisms I've been thinking up.

Mr. Softee
Lincoln Logless
Frightened Turtle Syndrome (FTS)
Droop Mountain (no really it's a thing http://www.droopmountainbattlefield.com/)

Anyway, I'm reading the sign and I'm asking myself if they really mean what they say or if they just don't know how to say what they mean, because as I'm sure you've figured out as well, it's kind of impossible for impotence not to ruin your sex life. Sure you can do things to make yourself potent again, take pills, hire someone to travel back in time and take naked pictures of the 20 year old Jennifer Love Hewitt for one. Which reminds me, if anyone owns a time machine I have a favor to ask of you... and a digital camera you can borrow. All that being said, those are methods to combat impotence, to undo the problem. This ad, on the other hand, wants you to 'get past' the whole impotence thing, work around it, find a backdoor (that's an unfortunate pun) to the problem. It's like telling your puppy he can knock up as many poodles as he wants, the day after you take him to get fixed.
Role playing - I recently had a training seminar on public service. I don't know why, I find the public reasonably serviceable, though I'd prefer it if there were fewer of them. Still, in our seminar we were required to play the part of an angry person from the public and an unhelpful public servant. Apparently, this was supposed to help us understand the difference between providing full service and minimal service. Now, I'm a full service kind of guy, which is why in my role play I offered to meet my customer at her place and discuss her problems over a nice bottle of wine, or if she preferred, cheap tequila. I've been told I still have a job, but it's unlikely I'll be asked to role play again. So much for the city really being about providing satisfaction.
Due to someone's mistake (I've been having some trouble figuring out who I can hold responsible for said mistake, as I am obviously excluded from the suspect list, so for the time being I'll hold off on assigning blame and just leave it as 'someone') I didn't actually prepare for work yesterday. This isn't to say I didn't work, I did, I just found myself unprepared even after all that work was done. What happened after though was almost as surprising as an impotent man being told to enjoy his sex life anyway. My day went smoothly! Literally, no obstacles presented themselves, no one called me names or looked at me the way they did the one time I got that guy deported by accident. It was amazing. I have to say, I'm now tempted to try it out on a regular basis. I call it 'The Reverse Raincoat Effect'. You see, as with an umbrella, the odds of it raining on a given day is inversely proportional to the number of people wearing a raincoat or an umbrella, the more people making use of one, the less likely it is to rain. So, I theorize, it is with work, the more prepared you are for every eventuality, the more questions you preemptively answer, the more problems you create. As Newton said evey action has an equal and opposite reaction. They call this the preservation of momentum/motion, I call this the preservation of problems. Every solution has a consequence and every consequence potentially creates a new problem. So, if you do nothing, if you don't prepare, don't answer a single question or solve a single problem then, according to the theory, you can avoid creating any new ones. So, who wants to be my guinea pig? What? I need this paycheck!

I'M AN ARTISTE'!

2009-11-13T12:40:00.000-05:00

I've got nothing today. I know it seems counterintuitive but these posts actually take more focus than work does. As such today's post will be brief and technically more of a complaint. You see, I'm unable to access that special place I go to when I write these things because a co-worker of mine has designated today as "Friday is for yelling at customer service representatives". There are many things I don't understand, people who find Dane Cook funny, why someone would name an edible fish Scrod, 'Tofurkey', but I truly don't understand how some people can be comfortable talking about their credit card bills in a room full of people to whom they aren't related. Aside from everything else, shouldn't you be concerned that I could just take take your information on a post-it and order myself a fine leather european men's shoulder bag?

Bah! Now someone's asking me to donate money to charity. Some people are just so selfish. Can't I be left alone for even a moment to spread the gospel? I bet people didn't interrupt Jesus when HE was talking just to ask for food.

Have a good weekend.

I GOT YOUR SIX!

2009-11-11T12:16:00.004-05:00

Veteran's day means I'm not working and you are. I know this has been a running theme for a while now recurring meme if you will; me not having to work and you slaving away at your job while your life passes you by at speeds faster than a drunk driving Halle Berry. Normally, this would mean I'd leave subject alone, after all this is like the fourth random day off I've had in the last month and if I keep beating this joke every time I don't have to work and you do, pretty soon it'll be giving an interview to Katie Couric on 60 minutes. Still, I have to say today is different. It's Veteran's day. Our soldiers fought and died so that we, as a nation, could take off a random Wednesday in middle of November and I am the only one respecting their sacrifices by spending the afternoon in pajamas watching West Wing reruns whilst repeatedly scratching certain nether regions. You? You're working!

This isn't really relevant (though really how much ever is?), and I don't have a particularly good segue for it, but I won $110 playing poker yesterday. I don't think it was luck or skill so much as it is that in my advancing old age I've become what I like to call frugal, and what wait staff likes to call a turd blossom. Money is a powerful thing, much like dodgeball, if you don't treat it with respect, it will cause you pain. This is a lesson me and my black eye learned well on the dodgeball battle field and so when I found myself mano a mano, head to head, stack to stack with someone who didn't understand it's mythical powers, money taught him a lesson. Also I had a pair of Kings, but that hardly seems relevant.

NO, I'M WRITING A BOOK ABOUT HOOKERS

2009-11-10T10:38:00.000-05:00

I'll be honest, I have no idea what today's post is going to be about, but I'm sure we'll figure it out as we go along. Oh, here's something, I just found out I'm going to have to do some work today. I don't have anything against the idea in principle, I get paid, I should do something to earn it (assuming my charming presence isn't reward enough). I just don't appreciate when work sneaks up on me. Sloth requires preparation and planning as much as productivity does, perhaps more so. It requires foresight and natural talent to clear one's schedule, while at the same time not actually working hard. It was with that understanding that I came into work today, confident in my ability to spend the day doing little more than looking busy. It was not to be readers. A simple extended breakfast while perusing the interwebs, a momentary exposure of my true intentions for the day and I find myself saddled with work.

I can't help but wonder if we could somehow transfer the ability my bosses have to capitalize on my those brief glimpses behind my facade of industriousness, those insights into my subconscious to our intelligence gathering community. I'm sure you've read by now that the Fort Hood murderer had been in contact with a radical muslim cleric with ties to Al-Qaeda. This is a humorous blog so I'm not going to get into too much depth, but apparently the FBI was aware of this contact and dismissed it because they thought it was for research purposes. Far be it from me to tell the FBI how to do it's job but, "I'm doing research" is pretty much the equivalent of "there was a sick passenger on my train." Seriously, Lindsay Lohan took a role as a drug addict stripper (with an amazing rack) just to cover up for all the times she said I'm not actually a drug addicted, attention seeking, Gift from god wasting slut, I'm doing research. I'm not one to judge (I am, I'm just humble) but if the FBI can't outsmart Lindsey Lohan my hopes for this country have taken a bit of a hit. On the bright side, at least my I can continue my Nigerian Prince business plan.

READING IS FUNdamental

2009-11-09T14:46:00.001-05:00

Hello readers, I'm taking my first official 'book day' today. I'm nearing the end of Part II and the finish line beckons like a drunk Jennifer Love Hewitt in heat. But, because I cant leave you without some form of entertainment, google Sammy Sosa and skin rejuvenation procedure. I promise it'll be worth it.

DE-REK JE-TER!

2009-11-06T16:17:00.000-05:00

Today is a bit of a notes article; no real overarching thing just a bunch of short thoughts on what has been a pleasantly relaxing day. I'm sure I'll find something to rage about though.

I hit a bit of a milestone today. I know my readership is worldwide, but I'm assuming you all know about Metro cards and the price of a subway ride. For those of you who don't a ride on the subway costs $2.25 (little known fact, apparently that is also the price for an apartment in the subway station, they're roomy enough but quite drafty) and when you buy a $20 Metro card you get a 15% bonus of $2.50 adding up to a total of $22.50. I'm sure all of you're actuaries, but that works out to 10 rides or 2 rides every business day leaving you with a .25 cent surplus at the end of the workweek. This means that instead of buying a new card every week I'm forced to refill my old one in order not to give up that .25 cents. The following week that surplus grows to .50 cents and .75 the week after and so on and so on. Long story short after 11 weeks of refilling my metro card I finally have enough to use it once more and let it hit $0.00.

I lost it :-(.

Yankee Parade in Downtown Manhattan today - say what you will but I find it heartwarming to see how the police will excuse public drunkenness and illegal exposure if you're smart enough to be a Yankee fan.

"Do you like milk?" - I was going through the tags on the blog the other day and I discovered that Starbucks has merited more rants than anything else. I was a bit surprised, personally I'd have put my money on the Portuguese (what's with that extra 'u'!?). Still, facts are facts, so I apologize for returning to the scene of the crime yet again. I was in Starbucks with a co-worker and I noticed they had a drink called an Eggnog latte. being curious by nature I asked if it was any good. The barista's response, however, assured me that while Starbuck's will continue to thrive, she will probably not be attending Wharton's School of Business anytime soon. I think it's safe to say when you're asking someone to pay $4 for a non-alcoholic beverage, you need a hook, an exotic quality that makes it seem like something you can't get anywhere else (kind of how massage parlors have "exotic" Asian women even though there are far more Asians than Caucasians in the world). So, when I ask the barista if the eggnog latte is good, I don't think "yeah, I mean do you like sweet milk?" is the response corporate had in mind. The fact that my co-worker ordered it anyway, well... I didn't say either of us was going to Wharton's either.

DOGGIE OR BARF?

2009-11-05T16:07:00.001-05:00

There comes a point in every meal, every good meal at least, where you have to make a decision; finish the plate or take a doggie bag. Moments like these are pregnant with variables that must be calculated in nanoseconds. Am I full? If I finish this, will I be sick in half an hour? Is there enough left to make a meal out of later? Will I be embarrassed to ask the waiter to wrap it up. If you hesistate, push the decision off even just a bite or two it'll be too late. The moment will have passed and the decision will be have been made for you. I had such a Rubicon moment today. I knew I was full, but also knew I wouldnt feel the effects of it for a few moments yet. I had a window to keep eating. There was also exactly enough food on the plate to fill one of those chinese takeout boxes and it was a dish that reheated well. The forces were marshalled and stacked evenly on each side. It could have gone either way. Unfortunately, I lost focus. I was reading while eating (the only way you can eat alone in a restaurant) and took two bites without thinking. By the time I regained my focus and looked down the remains looked rather puny. I'd waited too long though, the fullness hit me like a an angry transvestite and I was down to a dilemma with no winning choices; stuff myself or throw it out. Only it wasn't really a choice. In my head I'd already committed myself to eating everything on that plate, whether at once or later tonight. I wasn't about to undo all that and so I ate and ate and here I sit, nauseus, lightheaded and frightfully aware that I missed my chance. Don't let it happen to you. Learn from my mistake.

YOU SHOOT ANYONE THAT COMES THROUGH THAT DOOR!

2009-11-04T09:20:00.005-05:00

LA Dodger's pitcher Vincente Padilla was shot in the leg... by his own bodyguard. As this isn't an episode of 24, the guard didn't turn on him, and there was no criminal activity (except for stupidity) involved. The guard simply shot him, by accident, in the leg. What makes this more amusing is that Mr. Padilla (or as we shall henceforth call him, Gimpy) was at the firing range being instructed in the finer points of marksmanship by said bodyguard.

I'll be honest. I enjoy this story. Not because I hate rich people or like seeing other human beings in pain (both true), but because I feel like anyone who thinks they're so important they to need to hire a bodyguard, needs to bleed every once in a while, if only to remind them they belong to the same race as you and I.

Speaking of racial disharmony, I saw 'Where The Wild Things Are' last night. I don't want to say it sucked because that'd be unfair, also because I have a rather high opinion of myself, but we'll get to that in a moment. The movie was well-made, the acting was quite good and it definitely had emotional heft. Still, I was both bored and depressed throughout, and spent most of the movie thinking that all this could have been avoided if someone slipped some Ritalin in the kid's mashed potatoes.

I don't know if this is a kids movie. I know it's based on a children's book, but plenty of adult movies have been made from children's books. For example, this book: Still, even I, as an adult (god, it hurt to say that) have the patience for a movie in which NOTHING happens. More importantly I worry what not liking this movie says about me. It received solidly above average reviews from all the intellectual review sites and I left before it even ended. Normally I'm full of excuses (ask anyone who's ever relied on me for anything) If I didn't like a movie I should I'd say I have the tastes of a child, but that won't work in this case, it's based on a children's book! Still, I'd usually have the other half of the retort (because I'll take either side if I get to be right) and I'd say it was too childish, but again, it was decidedly serious. I have no excuses. Much like my attempts at avoiding going to the gym, I'm left with nothing but honesty and in this case honesty makes me feel like a Philistine. So yes I hate 'Where The Wild Things Are' Not because it sucked (it did) but because I thought it sucked. How's that for a paradox?

GLOATING

2009-11-03T11:52:00.001-05:00

Much like our differing manners of observing Columbus day, my employers, in their infinite wisdom and mercy, have seen fit to give me the day off today to deliberate on who I think is the right choice for Mayor of New York, yours, well, yours think you can decide while you work on spreadsheets. But enough bragging (hahahahahahahahahahahaha I have the day off and you don't nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh) today is about voting, about the power of choice, the meaning of democracy and that, friends, is a sacred and special thing. Look at American Idol, thanks to voting we have umm I can't remember the names of anyone on American Idol, there's that chubby one that won the first one and that girl in a bikini and the one who dated Tony Romo, didn't she get fat too though? No wait that was Jessica Simpson... was Jessica Simpson on American Idol? That seems like a bit of a mismatch.

Anyway, I watched 'Paranormal Activity' last night and I have to say, if the same people who recommended this movie are voting today, I think it's time we abolish democracy. I get the whole, is it a movie or is it real footage, thing. I mean I got it ten years ago when 'The Blair Witch Project' sucked, but I still get it today. Only we KNOW it's a movie and we know this because YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOW SNUFF FILMS IN A MOVIE THEATER! If people actually died it'd be evidence, the police would be investigating or, I don't know, SETI (google it). Either way you wouldn't be paying to see it. Also, I get the whole 'the unknown is scarier than anything you can see on screen' and that's true to an extent, we have amazing imaginations, in fact, just the other day I was daydreaming and imagined that Jennifer Love Hewitt was dating Jamie Kennedy. Crazy, I know. You know what's not scary though? A door moving on its own being the #3 most scariest moment in your movie. Maybe I'm being harsh, it could have been #4, the chandelier slightly swaying on its own may have been #3. My point is, the movie sucks and I want 90 minutes of my life back and all of you voters out there owe it to me!

Teasers

2009-11-02T12:56:00.002-05:00

Hello folks, after several consecutive weeks of blogging I find my creative juices restored and my slightly off kilter world view decidedly askew. I want to thank you for helping me reach this point again and giving me the wherewithal to pick up my long neglected Cinderella of a book. As a thank you I will be posting several excerpts from my magnum opus over the next few days. These tidbits will, I hope, grant me some measure of believability when I blame a day without a post on being busy with my book. Anyway, here are a few paragraphs from the opening chapter of Part II of my novel 'Codswallop'.

Chapter I

When I was twenty-three, and in my defense, quite lonely, I agreed to go on a blind date at the urging of a family friend. The girl, I was assured, was a dark haired beauty with the kind looks that drive men to bad decisions and lawyers to raise the price of prenuptial agreements. The “matchmaker” may have also mentioned something about her personality, I don’t recall. I do, however, quite clearly recall thinking upon her opening her apartment door for me that my decision-making faculties would remain decidedly unimpaired. It may well have turned out to be a pleasant evening.(1) I mean Monica Lewinsky managed to catch the eye of the most powerful man in the world, so nothing’s impossible, but about twenty minutes into our evening she made a declaration that guaranteed that our already doomed experiment of a blind date would end in total and complete failure.

She was a “naturist.”

Before I could inquire as to whether that was an actual word, (2) she explained that naturists (by this I deuced that there was at least one other) don’t believe in wasting their lives indoors. They prefer to live, as she put it, lives engaged with nature. Her idea of a night of fun included hiking, sitting in front of a bonfire, taking walks on the beach, and anything else you might do in summer camp or read in a personal ad. Anyway, the long and short of it was, she didn’t own a TV! I knew right then (along with when she opened the door(3)) that would be the last time we went out.

Television is, as you may have gathered by now, very important to me. In fact, during summers when I wasn’t in school or working, and during my extended period of unemployment, television made up a solid three quarters of my waking life, trumping such activities as exercising, being outside and dating. If she was a naturist than I was technologist, an avid indoorsman, preferring to live a life engaged with my remote control. It was nearly four years since that unfortunate date and in all that time, I had never met another person who cared about TV as much as I did. Then I met six hundred of them.

Footnotes:
1) As I understand, there are an infinite number of parallel universes in addition to our own, and the way I see it, in at least one of them, I must be something other than shallow.
2) My spell check seems to think it is though I still have my reservations.
3) Like I said, decidedly unimpaired.

FIVE O'CLOCK SHADOW

2009-10-30T14:02:00.002-04:00

Sorry about not posting yesterday readers. I've fallen into a bit of a rut lately, posting my pearls in the late afternoon well past that magic 90 minute span from 9:00-10:30 when everyone searches for something to read while they acclimatize themselves to the rigors of the day. Much like shaving at night, I left myself with an unenviable dilemma; repost again in the morning and let yesterday's flowers bloom for but a moment, or, wait till they have had time to open their petals and scented the air for their allotted day (yes, I know, I mixed my metaphors, I'm open to rhetorical miscegenation). Being lazy, I chose the latter and so the cycle continued, repeating itself like a computer following shampoo instructions (lather, rinse, repeat...). Anyway, I finally decided it was time to break the cycle. So that's why there wasn't a post yesterday. As for why today's post is not going up till ~~lunch time~~ well, five o'clock, I refer you back to 'I'm lazy'. Hey, it's not like I'm getting paid for this! Well I mean technically I'm doing this while I'm at work and I'm getting paid for that so... Whatever, on to the show (Is it 'on to' or 'onto'? it sounds like onto but on to makes much more sense, I think this is one of those situations where 'sounds right' might lead you astray).

I was walking down Broadway today and there were these two women walking down the street carrying corn stalks in shopping carts. Not ears of corn mind you, not corn with the husk still on, friggin' whole stalks of corn. It's like they'd just come back from visiting Ohidowa (that would be Ohio, Idaho and Iowa) and decided to take a cash crop back as a tsotchke, only we were in the middle of New York City and there wasn't an airport in sight. What amazed me more than the stalks though was that no one else seemed to think it was odd! I mean the Children of the Corn are walking about the like Four Horsemen and not a single person in sight reacted. I think we've become desensitized to the absurd and abnormal. I mean, you don't even realize how odd I am anymore. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate your obliviousness, but I think you may be in danger. For example, I was sitting on one of those wooden benches waiting for the subway the other day and this crazy dude who smelled like fermenting vomit sat down next to me. I, of course, being in possession of all five of my senses, got up and moved as far away as my olfactory receptors necessitated. When I turned around, however, the dude who was sitting next to me was still there, only now he was having a conversation with eau de puke. I guess it's possible that he was just a nice guy and didn't want to offend another human being, but trust me on this crazy dude was CRAZY he didn't need anyone to talk to, he had a whole cast of characters he seemed to converse with on a regular basis all on his own; at least one of which should probably be on antipsychotics overweight or not.

DOES THIS STRAIGHT JACKET MAKE ME LOOK FAT?

2009-10-28T14:57:00.003-04:00

So (some have you may have noticed that many of my posts begin with 'So' or similar derivations, before you correct my grammar, this is both acceptable and purposeful. You see, by starting with 'so' I invite you into the post; it makes it seem as if we're simply picking up a conversation we'd started earlier that had been interrupted [how rude!]. There, now you know), I was on the NY Times website today and, because I, like most of you, am too lazy to look for articles I personally want to read, I found myself scanning the 'Most Popular' menu on the bottom of the screen. I know I should be more of an independent reader and that limiting my news intake to the 'Most Popular' section is akin to listening to Britney Spears music (OK I'm not going to lie... I really like it. It's good! No really it is, it's catchy. You're just biased because you think you're supposed to hate it. Come on, I know someone out there agrees with me! Granted the words 'Radar' and 'Operator' don't actually rhyme and I'm pretty sure there are machines involved in making her sound good, but the woman is clearly disturbed, I don't think we should hold her to such exacting standards). Anyway, I was scanning the list of most popular stories and I saw a title that caught my eye:

Weight Gain Associated With Antipsychotic Drugs

OK here are my questions regarding this story:

1) If you're on antipsychotic medication shouldn't you be less concerned about weight and more focused on the whole becoming a psycho killer thing?

2) Is this a bad thing? Are we treating this weight gain like some sort of negative side effect? I don't know about you, but I prefer an overweight and out of shape psychotic community. If something goes wrong and they forget their medication or someone knocks off the delivery truck and keeps them from getting it, I want to know I can outrun the stampeding psychotic herd.

3) Did someone tell the psychotics about this? I'm sorry, but I don't think I want them weighing the pros and cons of taking their crazy people pills. What if they have a hot date or something? I know this may seem preposterous, but there are people who'd rather date a crazy person than a fat person... I'm just saying, I have a uh, 'friend' like that.

4) Do they actually call them antipsychotics? That seems like poor branding to me. If I was a doctor and wanted to get my patient to take medicine, I feel like telling him he needs antipsychotics wouldn't be the best approach. Someone needs to come up with a better name for these things. Any suggestions?

I'LL DRINK YOUR MILKSHAKE!

2009-10-27T11:58:00.005-04:00

I'm kinda tired, let's meet up after lunch. I might have something for you then. I don't want to tease it too much, but let's just say it involves the greatest athletic achievements in history.

UPDATE:
OK, so I had lunch. Unfortunately the only thing it did, aside from make me gassy (if we can't tell each other these things what hope do we have of making this a lasting relationship?), is confirm the fact that I don't want to be at work, and if I have to be, I'd prefer to be asleep. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'I've read about your dodgeball exploits and you're clearly a superior athlete (or as sportscasters say ath-uh-leet), how can you be so tired?' Well, the reasons for my fatigue are two-fold.

First, while most of the people there were calling it some random hunk of rock in Taconic State park, I'm pretty sure I climbed Mount Killamanjaro on Sunday, maybe K-2 (Everest is for blind people and pansies), it's hard to tell, at that elevation the brain gets a bit fuzzy. I was also informed by people who I have on good authority are called "haters", that I didn't rock climb, I rock scrambled. However, I don't think I'll be drinking from that particular can of "haterade" (apparently it's high in electrolytes, who knew?). I got to the top of Killamanjaro WITHOUT EXTRA OXYGEN, I clearly have skills. Now, while the climb was physically taxing and rather hard on the cocyx (google it) that alone wouldn't have been enough to take me down, I am after all a physical specimen (that's what I call a lie of misinterpretation). The climb was, however, directly followed by part two of the two-fold attack on my specimen,the final night of my dodgeball season.

Yes folks, just 24 games and, like the blink of my one black (dodgeball is apparently a contact sport) eye, it's over. Still, as a team befitting my presence, we went out in style, reeking of cheap liquor and going undefeated on the night - winning three and tying once. By the way, anyone who asks about whether we won 2 of those games by forfeit will quickly come know what it means to see eye to eye with a dodgeball.

IT WAS DARK...

2009-10-26T10:02:00.000-04:00

Sorry I couldn't get a second post up on Friday. After three straight days of staying at work well past when I stopped getting paid, we're talking almost an hour people, I decided to turn my brain off at about 3pm and, much as it may shock you to learn this, I still need it to write this ramble. I've actually gotten quite a few suggestions for posts lately and while I appreciate them all and plan on getting to most of them, I do have a topic of my own I'd like to discuss; Cheating.

Now I know I said I'd stay away from sports but owing to the salacious nature of the topic and the fact that deep down we all love seeing other people screw up, I think most of you know who I'm talking about when I mention the name Steve Phillips. A quick recap, as you probably know all the gory details: Steve is the former general manager of the New York Mets and a now former TV personality for ESPN, his salary with both institutions was over 1 million dollars. Steve was also caught hiding the sausage with a 22 year old intern. None of this is all that shocking or, to be honest, newsworthy, the man had already admitted to having multiple affairs with underlings in the past and well, once you get a taste of intern... The reason why people care is, quite simply, the intern is six kinds of ugly. It's not JUST that he shouldn't have been tempted it's that we're all surprised he managed to pull it off (especially the second and third time) without a blindfold, a bottle of little blue pills and a severe case of short term memory loss. Which brings us to my poll question for today:

If you found out your significant other was cheating on you, but didn't know whose muffin they were buttering, would you hope that it was someone with three chins and enough muffin top to open a specialty bakery, or would you hope it was some too gorgeous to be fully human, gift from the gods?

To help you decide, I'll clarify the arguments for both sides.

For the fuglies: Two routes. He can't possibly be attracted to her, I'm not even sure she's a woman, for God's sake Magnum PI would be jealous of that mustache. He clearly has a problem, it's not his fault. Or, he can't possibly want to look at that forever, I mean he (or she) may have urges that he (let's be honest it's probably he) feels like he can't express with me, but with Fido over here he doesn't have any guilt. He can explore the full reaches of the urban dictionary without regret or the expectation that she'd say she's too good for that. Whereas he KNOWS I'm too smart, too pretty and too self-confident to Moo Shoo Pork.

For the Angelina's: I know a guy who's friend's girlfriend hooked up with Derek Jeter while they were still dating (the firend's friend and the girlfriend that is). She subsequently told her boyfriend that she'd taken part in what I believe is now refered to as an Eiffel Tower (I could be wrong about that, it may have been a Leaning Tower, or a Big Ben I get my landmarks confused) with Mr. Jeter and another girl. Her boyfriend's response was; "that's freaking awesome, you're so cool! I love you! By the way did you get any Yankee tickets?" I don't mean this to serve as a guide for how you should react to a similar situation, but imagine how the response would have differed if she'd replaced Derek Jeter and another girl with two guys from a Battlestar Galactica convention (I apologize, it really was a very good show). At least with the Angelina's you can understand how someone would be tempted, whereas with the fuglies, you're first thought after seeing the selection of muffin tops would have to be, you'd pork platypus wouldn't you?

So, there you go. Now I leave the comments section open for voting, please add an explanation to your vote if you don't mind; it's science.

NO, I'M NOT OK

2009-10-22T23:50:00.002-04:00

OK, so I realize sports aren't everybody's thing and I try and respect (by respect I mean pander - I'm kind of a whore for hits) that by not really spending too much time talking baseball or football on here, but sometimes a scenario that challenges all your best intentions will present itself and things that you thought you could leave unspoken demand to be heard. And (yes I can start a sentence with 'and') so, as a Yankees fan I think I need to just say, in the voice of Sunday afternoon basic cable movies and their alliterative swear word replacement (think "Yippee Ki-yay Mister Falcon), SPELT! FICUS! FICUS, FICUS FICUS! Go to hibiscus AJ! And you Swisher, don't think I forgot about you. How dare you play with my emotions like that you aardvark! BAH!

OK that was for me, I'll have something for you later.

YOU CAN MILK ANYTHING WITH NIPPLES

2009-10-22T10:42:00.002-04:00

A brief complaint: I went to Starbucks yesterday for the first time in like a year. I don't drink coffee and I don't need a fancy paper cup to help me feel like I'm better than the rest of you, so there's never been much of a draw for me in the first place. Still, it was warm yesterday (you're welcome!) and I felt like something cold. It wasn't anywhere near lunch or breakfast so there was no line and, before I knew it, I was inside and ordering. Now I know these Starbucks jokes are about 10 years old, but DUDE they charged me $4 for sugared milk. It wasn't even a large! I've been given bigger cups to pee into... some of them by doctors. The thing is I didn't even realize what had happened till I was back in my building on the way up the elevator shaft. It's just that that (I hate when I end up having 'that that' happen to a sentence, or 'had had', it makes me feel like I have a finger stutter) freaking wall menu they have is so confusing and written in such tiny print that my pulse is racing by the time it's my turn to order and I'm so relieved just to have gotten my order out without embarrassing myself that I'm on an adrenaline high for the next 3-5 minutes. All of which means I don't realize I've exchanged my $4 for a urine sample cup filled with cold milk until its too late to demand a refund. Still, I guess it'd be OK if it had ended there, money spent lesson learned - my own personal teachable moment and I didn't even have to arrest a guy for breaking into his own home - but, it seems the worst has happened. I've awoken something inside me. Maybe it's the craving for that adrenaline rush, but I find myself thinking about Iced Chai Latte with Soy juice (no nipples on a soybean) and I can't make myself stop...

THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP

2009-10-21T10:58:00.001-04:00

I'm feeling pretty good this morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I don't have to be in court today. I have to say though, this isn't some random cosmic coincidence, no, it has a cause, a first mover an original actor so to speak, and that actor is I. You see, it can all be traced back to the nap I took yesterday afternoon. Now, I grant you, there's no scientific evidence directly connecting my napping habits to the following day's weather pattern or the unified court system for that matter, but, and I think this is key, there isn't anything disproving it either. I'll admit I don't know why it happens this way, aside from Newton's third law, but the fact remains the world always seems to be a better place after I've napped, ooh and after a good meal, especially if it was free and required no cleanup. Now, because I am in a good mood and feeling generous, I'm prepared to share with you this world changing power, this salt in the cloud of slumber. You see not just any nap will change the world. This is actually a common misconception. In fact, the fall of Ottoman Empire can be tied directly to the mistaken belief of His Imperial Majesty, The Sultan Abdülhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans, Caliph of the Faithful, or Abd Al-Hamid II Khan Ghazi as his friends called him when they were short of breath, that just any old nap would suffice. So, before you find yourself responsible for the collapse of an empire and the loss of thousands of innocent lives, let me lay out the rules.

The Nappist's Manifesto

Rule #1: Your nap must commence during daylight hours. This does not mean that it is OK to nap anytime the sun is shinning, only that one cannot nap AFTER the sun has set. It is important to remember this distinction especially during daylight savings time when the sun is up well past when you should be down.

Rule #2: The primary afternoon napping hours are between three and six pm. Now, while I do suggest that you sleep during these particular hours, it has become clear to me that this is somewhat frowned up on at the workplace, so as long as you start your nap within this period you're safe.

Rule #3: A proper nap, contrary to the false gospels of the so-called "power nappers" (see yesterday's discussion on words in quotation marks), lasts between 90 minutes and two hours. The human body sleeps in 90 minute cycles and to gain the full benefit of your nap you should sleep at least that much. Also there isn't really anything good on TV till at least 7.

Rule #4: Shut your phone off. Don't tell people you're napping, please don't call. Sadly, there are too many His Imperial Majesty, The Sultan Abdülhamid II, Emperor of the Ottomans, Caliph of the Faithful in this world, people who don't give the nap proper respect and will assume it's safe to call you after 45 minutes or an hour. These people are the devil and we must fight them with every tool in our arsenal, particularly the off button.

Rule #5: Blackout. If you are a worker (unite!) and getting home just in time to get into bed before the nap window closes, odds are when you wake up (assuming you don't follow the advice of the false power-nap prophets) it will be dark outside. As you are most vulnerable in the minutes and sometimes hours after your nap (depending on your level of experience), this shift can delay your recovery unless you prepare. I suggest closing the blinds, lights and perhaps even donning a blindfold or a t-shirt if you aren't depraved enough to have a blindfold handy.

Rule #6: No matter what anyone asks or tells you remember the following lines:
- I had a really hard day at work
- I didn't sleep well at all last night
- I got into bed at 6, but I didnt fall asleep till almost 7
- I set my alarm clock I have no idea how that happened
- I must not have had service, my phone was on

There are more rules but I can't hand them out to beginners just yet, and besides, it's almost prime morning nap time.

THE GREAT PIG SCARE

2009-10-20T09:13:00.005-04:00

For those of you in New York (my readership is after all world-wide), I'd like to welcome you back to Fall. Until tomorrow, at which point I'll be welcoming you back to Spring, and then next week, when I welcome back to either Fall or Winter depending on the trade winds coming up from the Canary Islands. Either way though, welcome to 'OH MY GOD THEY'RE RUNNING OUT OF H1N1 FLU SHOTS!' season.

Don't worry though, I think I have a solution. You see, I've been through these so-called "crises" before (I feel like quotation marks don't give me the same level of sarcams air quotes do so please close you eyes and pretend you can see me doing it, sure, fine, you can use Megan Fox too, just keep it clean, OK? I'd really hate to be responsible for your morning "calisthenics"). I remember the celebrations at CNN and MSNBC when Avian flu, El Nino (I don't know how to do the accent thing, does that make me a racist?) and Killer African bees fed news cycle after news cycle like a Jesus fish and I think we can use those lessons to solve the vaccine "crisis". First, take the hospital mask you got back during the avian flu of '07 and put it on, then, take the bottled water, and sandbags you bought to protect you from El Nino flooding and barricade yourself in your apartment. Now this is the most important part, so listen carefully. Once you're safely locked into your apartment with no hope of anyone being able to break in, take the bug spray you bought to kill the Killer African bees and Binaca that sucker, 'cuz honestly, if you fell for every one of those 'it's just like Michael Crichton said, we're all going to die' scams then I fear a thinning of the herd might be in order.

I'm kidding. I love you all very much and I don't approve of suicide, though, in an interesting sidebar, I was walking in the city, eavesdropping on strangers conversations as is my wont (don't judge me) when I overheard these two guys talking about their suicide support group. Apprently, this group wasn't to prevent people from committing suicide, it was for preventing them from trying it AGAIN! Can you imagine it, an entire room full of people who've all tried to kill themselves (I have a sneaking suspicion I'm getting close to that 'he should NOT have made that joke' line)? I feel like if I could just find this place, I could probably become a cult leader by the end of the month! How cool would that be!?

Update: I do apologize, I owe a shout out to my breeding habits expert and source for all things polygamous - my friendly neighborhood chinaman.

P.S. We won another game of dodgeball, I think i prefered being historically bad to depressingly unmemorably mediocre.

THE WEEKENDER

2009-10-16T12:59:00.000-04:00

It would appear I missed a rather important occasion yesterday. In my haste to brighten your day and beg for your money, I failed to realize that THE AFTERMATHH: PART II was actually the one hundredth post on this here blog (by the way, I know Microsoft is stodgy and everything, I am afterall almost an Apple person, but how does blog still come up as misspelled on Word). True some of the posting are rather short and would be excluded by a more impartial jury, but fortunately, I don’t care. I reached 100 and you know what that means… RESIDUALS! To be honest I don’t actually know what that means, but I’m pretty sure like everything else that reached 100 episodes, my blog will be on TBS and TNT approximately 400 times a day, right between Law & Order and The Office re-runs.
For our 101st post I’d like to turn to the found comedy section of the blog. Today’s contenders are a sanitation worker sitting in a car with a sign two doors long saying, ‘Help keep our air clean, don’t idle’ leaving the engine idling; A pro football player with low expectations; and three people from building maintenance who spent twenty three minutes trying to unlock an office door (its always the 437th key).
And the winner!

From the ‘I think we may want to clarify the standards for sainthood category’ comes Osi Umenyiora. For those of you unfamiliar with the name, Osi is a defensive end for the NY Football Giants and a millionaire many times over. He’s also according to most reports a pretty nice fellow. That being said I’m reasonably sure he’s spending too much time with the rich and indiscriminate.
Said Osi of a fellow NLF’er Drew Brees: “He’s a boy scout man. I didn’t know him too well before. I must tell you he’s probably the best guy I’ve ever met in my life as far he does everything the right way… He says all the right things, doesn’t cheat on his wife, nothing. He’s the best guy you’ll ever meet in this life, man. Trust me.”

Look I know it’s easy to hook up with women when you’re a rich, famous professional athlete with the body of a GI Joe action figure. I know mammals, for the most part, aren’t naturally monogamous and even elephants, the uptight accountants of the animal kingdom, keep harems of trunk junk around. Still, in the larger scheme of things, if I had to choose one attribute to use as an example of why someone is “the best guy you’ll ever meet in this life” I don’t think I’d lead with “he doesn’t cheat on his wife, nothing.”

This might also be a bit of a minor quibble, but is that what boy scouts are famous for, not cheating on their wives? Aren't most boy scouts like 12? I feel like by the time they're old enough to cheat on their wives the whole boy scout aura has probably faded. Would you really be surprised if it turned out David Letterman used to be a boy scout? And another thing, they're famous for being able to start fires with sticks and leaves how did they become the go to example for nice? Volunteer fire fighters seem nice, they save people's lives, they get cats out of trees, no one uses them as an example. There must be a union or something, boy scouts, brain surgeons and rockets scientists, a regular AFL-CIO of hackneyed hyperbole. Also, if I was Osi’s wife, I think I’d start re-reading my pre-nup (you don't have to be rocket scientist to see that coming). Call me!

DODGEBALL: THE AFTERMATH PART II

2009-10-15T16:38:00.003-04:00

No hunters? No soldiers? No premature ejaculators? No anabolic steroids? HA! I laugh in the face of such mundane requirements. HA! I scoff! Yeah, that's right, I scoffed. What happened? I'll tell you what happened, only the most amazing underdog story in the history of human athletic endeavors, nay, in the entirety of all mammalian endeavors (except maybe that baby water buffalo that escaped from a lion and an alligator that were attacking it simultaneously, oh and Jamie Kennedy dating Jennifer Love Hewitt. Really? she's banging the dude who got killed second in Scream 3!? Other than those two things though it stands up to pretty much anything.). In fact it's a lot like Braveheart. I'd get into details, but I don't think words can accurately express the balletic beauty that was our team. We threw balls like Zeus's thunderbolts, dodged like ninja poets and caught with the grace of a moderately inebriated professional curling squad. And, after we lost the first three games, we won one... by a point! So, to all the doubters, the haters, the people who pointed and laughed (not cool mom, NOT COOL!) I say this: 'Damn you for accepting my bets against my own team! Seriously, I can't afford to pay all of you. Who thought we'd even win again, I mean we suck! Now we suck and I'm broke and in hiding.'

More tommorow, unless of course they find me.

P.S. Can anyone lend me some money, I have some umm... bills I need to pay... I'm totally good for it.

PRIORITIES

2009-10-14T09:13:00.003-04:00

Welcome back,

I apologize for the late post, but apparently SOME people (my bosses, the court, random child abusers) don't quite understand how integral I am to the days of so many. Sadly, they aren't done with me yet so we're going to have to do this quick and dirty (hee hee quick and dirty).

So there was this attorney in court today who came in wearing a crewneck sweater and khakis, no shirt, no tie. He sat down at the table, pulled out a newspaper and proceeded to read from the NY Post while the judge was talking. I bring this up not to highlight the inappropriate behavior of this obviously intellectually starved individual, but rather because this man was getting paid! Someone actually went to this guys office, spoke to him, looked at him and decided he was worth money! I know I complain about work, but God almighty do I love a profession where a dude like that can get paid. To contrast, there was a dude playing guitar and harmonica (at once!) in a square not too far from my office. He played pretty well and had a funny sign that read "Obama's not the only one hoping for change." I mean the effort this guy put into busking (Knowledge drop: Yes, that's right, there's an actual WORD for people who play music in public spaces for change, and now you know it, see how educational this is!) had to at least be 73 times the work roundneck sweater guy put into his appearance today. You know, now that I think about it I probably should have given that harmonica guy some money...

EDITED FOR CONTENT

2009-10-13T10:26:00.011-04:00

We're going to continue yesterday's calendar meme a bit today with a question. Does anyone know what month it is? No, October will not be an acceptable answer. No, it's not Black History month, nice try though. It's Hispanic Heritage Month! Now, unlike some of you I happen to have an Hispanic friend so I'm what you'd call, in touch with the whole Hispanic culture thing, but I'll admit, even I was a bit surprised to find out there was a month. Still, I figured it was a recent development, a product of the new millennium or perhaps even an Obama addition, so I didn't feel that badly. Then I did some research. Yes folks, be prepared to feel insensitive. Hispanic Heritage Month was instituted in 1988! 1988! That's insane! Hispanic Heritage Month is older than the 'Yo Quiero Taco Bell' dog! (I apologize for the profusion of exclamation point but the new blogger format has taken away my ability to bold and italicize which leaves me with nothing but exclamation points and caps, BAH!)
Fortunately, further research obviated my guilt, short lived as it was. You see, Hispanic Heritage month isn't really a month. Sure it's 30 consecutive days, but it isn't the 30 days of October (October has thirty days right? Is it a knuckle or a valley? 30 days have September... For God's sake all the months in that stupid song end in 'ber' how am I supposed to keep track!?). Hispanic Heritage month is 30 days from September 15 - October 15! That's just stupid. I can barely keep track of which months have 31 days and you want me to remember a month that starts in the middle of nowhere!? (I really miss bold and italicize :() Sure Black people got stuck with February, a month with 28 days and an extra 'R' that no one remembers to pronounce (feb-ROO-airy not feb-U-airy), but at least it's a real month, it's got its own page on the calendar! How can I respect a month if it doesn't have a picture of a cute bunny over the top of it? Hispanic Heritage month is almost over, but I'm sorry I don't feel guilty for missing it. It missed me! It ignored my obvious limitations and made demands of me that it knew I couldn't live up to. So yes, our time was short, but it is you HHM that will be taking the walk of shame, not I!
Oh, you've also probably noticed some changes to the blog format, let me know if you like the new, less emo, version of my misanthropy. Also you can now do all the new hip kid stuff like search and subscribe. It's pretty awesome.

HAPPY SYPHILIS DAY!

2009-10-12T11:40:00.005-04:00

Sorry for the late start today Readers, but some of us are on what I like to call VAAAAY CAAAAY SHUUUUUN!!! Yes that's right, thanks to that fearless explorer Christopher Columbus, I slept in, had nice relaxing breakfast while perusing the internet, then hung out by the subway station pointing and laughing at all the people heading into work. Yes, I know, you didn't realize today was Columbus Day. Heck (it's too early in the day for Hell), you didn't even realize that Columbus Day was worthy of a day off of work. Now, while I could blame you and your obviously poor calendar reading skills, I'm instead going to give you the benefit of the doubt (if you're reading this you're obviously smarter than those ardipithecus ramidus out there on TMZ right now... it's OK just close it, I won't tell.) and blame whoever out there made Columbus Day a 'Day' in the first place. Which brings us to my point, exactly how low are our award standards?

Before I get too into facts and whatnot -Knowledge drop - whatnot means, nothing. If you're ever having a conversation with a friend, parent, co-worker, employee, significant other, employer, waiter, mechanic or sex worker and they add 'whatnot' to a list of things that they've done, they haven't done anything.

Exempli gratia:
Random person who, since I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt today, we'll assume isn't a sex worker: So that'll be $300
You: $300? For what?
RPWSIGYTBOTDTWAIASW: Well I did a lot
You: Like what?
RPWSIGYTBOTDTWAIASW: Well, I went to the store for you and I had to pick up the necessities and whatnot.
YOU (Before reading this post): OK.
YOU (after reading this post): You filthy good for nothing lying sack of vomit, how dare you lie to me!? You think I'm stupid or something!? I'm on to you mom!

Anyway, I may have gotten distracted there, where was I? Ah yes Facts and whatnot. Now most of these facts are coming from Wikipedia, which means that the greatest minds in the world have had a chance to input their amazing stores of historical knowledge into the internet so everything on it is at least 100% accurate, maybe more. So, onto Columbus. Here's what I've been able to glean from 8 minutes of exhaustive research and that song that begins 'In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue'

-Columbus discovered the Bahamas and thought he landed in Asia, India in particular.
-Upon finding these 'Indians' he remarked that they seemed like they'd make good servants.
- Columbus had sex with lots of them and brought syphilis to Europe.
- For all his good work Columbus was made governor at which point: The native Taino people of the island were systematically enslaved and murdered. Hundreds were rounded up and shipped to Europe to be sold; many died en route. For the rest of the population, Columbus demanded that all Taino under his control should bring the Spaniards gold. Those who didn't were to have their hands cut off. Since there was, in fact, little gold to be had, the Taino fled, and the Spaniards hunted them down and killed them. The Taino tried to mount a resistance, but the Spanish weaponry was superior, and European diseases ravaged their population. In despair, the Taino engaged in mass suicide, even killing their own children to save them from the Spaniards. Within two years, half of what may have been 250,000 Taino were dead. The remainder were taken as slaves and set to work on plantations, where the mortality rate was very high. By 1550, 60 years after Columbus landed, only a few hundred Taino were left on their island. In another hundred years, perhaps only a handful remained.
- He hanged some of his crew for disobeying him
- Was arrested by the King of Spain for mismanagement and stripped of his governorship.

AMERICAN HERO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look I'm all for low standards. I wish more women and my bosses had them, but I have to say Columbus day kind of irks me. If all it takes to get a day is get lost; call South America, Asia; Enslave, torture, slaughter and drive a native people to mass suicide; hang your employees; get fired by your boss and sent to jail, then should at least have one day by now, maybe two. Not to mention a Nobel Peace Prize. I kid because I love, Barack.

OK that was tiring, I think I'll go nap now.

COMMENT OR DIE

2009-10-08T22:47:00.007-04:00

Before I begin I'd like to make a confession... I'm a PC. I know, I know, I'm ashamed to be honest. I don't own a smart phone, my iPod has like 47 songs on it, I'm still somewhat threatened by the roomba (they're practically sentient!) and I have T-Mobile phone service. Brief aside: Who here, aside from the good people at Verizon, thinks that a good way to promote cell phone service is to give people the impression that evey move they make is being followed by a mob of strangers in hardhats and oddly annoying glasses? Still, I like to think of myself as an Apple/Mac kind of guy. I like the commercials, I think old people are boring and I'm all for making technology user friendly, though I'm still not sure about the whole trusting robots thing, once they gain power they'll turn on us for control of the oil, they've seen The Wizard of Oz, they know what happens to the Tin Man. The point is, I feel as if I'm a part of the Mac revolution, which makes what happened yesterday all the more disturbing.

I was watching TV last night and a commercial for what I thought was the iPhone came on. It had a close up of a pretty phone with a touch screen, music playing and celebrities holding the phone, all the usual iPhone stuff and I have to say was kinda feeling it. I may have even been bopping my head (Now because I think we've been a bit schlong heavy here the last few posts and we're better than that, I'm going to eschew making jokes about head bopping... for today). After a few seconds though -I only give commercials about 18% of my attention - I realized something was wrong; the celebrities weren't young and hip, they were Chevy Chase, that girl who used to smell her armpits on SNL and Dana Carvey (DANA CARVEY!?). The music was also a bit off because it wasn't some new indie singer I've never heard of who's popular in the West Village, it was Bob Dylan (Bob Dylan is old and just released a Christmas album, cool indie singers do not release Christmas albums). Long story short it was a commercial for T-Mobile's new phone the 'My Touch' (No! no schlong jokes today people. We have standards!). The point is I found this commercial and my reaction to it, quite depressing. There are essentially two options here; one, I have no mind of my own and will, Pavlov style, find anything cool if it follows the template of an iPhone commercial; or two, and this one is scarier, Apple doesn't want me. They think people like me pretending to be Apple people are ruining their image and want to pawn me off on T-mobile! Well, I'm not falling for the Apple! I'm going to get an iPhone! (as soon as the price comes down and they switch the service from AT&T, and you know, the price comes down.) So there!

Oh and in case you still trust the roomba, read this: Roomba-Maker Unveils Kill-Bot!
http://www.wired.com/dangerroom/2007/10/roomba-maker-un/

EVERYONE HAS A PLAN TILL THEY GET A DODGEBALL IN THE FACE!

2009-10-08T09:05:00.005-04:00

As some of you may have deduced (deducted for those who conversate) I am, by nature, rather competitive. To clarify, I don't mean competitive in the 'I need to prove I'm better than you' sense, thankfully that is blatantly obvious. What I do mean, however, is that I like to win. I really, really, really like to win. I like to win the way midgets like amusement parks without those 'you must be this tall to ride' signs, or the way this girl in my office likes to think orange is the color of a natural suntan. So I have to say, I'm puzzled by my not caring that my current dodgeball team is out to a scorching 1-11 start. For those of you out there who can't read won-loss records that would be one win and eleven losses. To put that into perspective, there are 10 teams in our league, after last nights 0-4 we are currently in approximately 293rd place.

Now to be fair, none of this is particularly surprising. Most of my team members have never played organized dodgeball before and, contrary to popular belief, dodgeball is actually among the most complex sports known to man. Success at dodgeball requires the skill of a hunter, the courage of a foot soldier, the quickness of a premature ejaculator and high grade anabolic steroids. In fact, Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' was originally titled, 'I Can't Believe How Difficult Dodgeball is Maybe I SHould Just Focus on This War Junk, It Seems Easy' (apparently the same people who write out the directions on your chop sticks packet did the capitalization on the title), while Machievelli's 'The Prince' was actually originally titled 'Having A Cool Sounding Last Name Will Increase Book Sales By 64%' (not everything is about dodgeball you know). Anyway, my point is we suck like a gay vaccum cleaner; we are the kind of terrible that inspired the Special Olympics and maybe even the pejorative connotation of the word 'special'. We lack hunters, soldiers, premature ejaculators (don't ask me how I know), the steroids I bought for us taste suspiciously like Fruit Snacks and I'm still not quite sure how the scoring system works. What I'm trying to say is, I don't foresee us winning too many more games, but it's dodgeball, so I guess it doesn't count.

WE'RE JUST TOO DAMN GOOD TOGETHER!

2009-10-06T14:51:00.004-04:00

It seems we can't quite stay broken up, you and I. I'll admit there were times I thought this would never happen again; that my days of venting my bile upon you while demonstrating proper semicolon use were over forever. Yet, my Richard Burton (Google it), here we are again. It would seem some things (me, my blog, Sean Connery, that scene from 'Wild Things' where Denise Richards and Neve Campbell make out, Polish jokes, child labor, unequal pay in the workplace in particular and misogyny in general, Drake's cakes, Thundercats, that youtube video of the baby water buffalo escaping from both an alligator AND a lion SIMULTANEOUSLY, spelling 'dialog', 'dialogue' [it's just better that way] and the word 'Codswallop') are just too good to let fade into oblivion. So get out your prophylactic of choice 'cuz were about to get it on!

TOP FIVE THINGS THAT HAVE BOTHERED ME SINCE LAST WE MET

#5 - People who walk at your identical pace - If I'm walking along the street and you, stranger whom I have no reason to think isn't a serial killer, decide to step out of your car or local Kaballah center and step onto my street, walking at my pace, your shoulder to my shoulder shoulder, well then don't complain if you accidentally trip. Little known fact: Hookers, aka 'street walkers' were originally a kind of hall monitor for the streets, making sure no two strangers were forced to walk abreast of each other in uncomfortable silence, but, as man evolved and social contracts formed, these noble protectors of our sidewalks found themselves without work or purpose and, in their unflagging, if misplaced, desire to continue guiding us along life's major thoroughfares, they became the sherpas of the backseat, back alley and backd-- well, you know.

#4 - People who push the button for the elevator after it's already been pressed - What's your thought process here? I just want to understand where you're coming from is all. You see me standing at the elevator bank, briefcase in hand, repeatedly checking my watch and you think I'm just hanging out? Or do you realize that I'm waiting for the elevator, but think I'm too stupid to figure out how to push the button to get an elevator to come. Hmm? Which is it douchebag!? You think I'm an idiot? I should rip your arm off at the elbow and beat your skull in with your own ulna for insulting me like that; just consider yourself lucky that we're on the ground floor or I'd pry open the elevator door and throw you down the shaft. On a related note I may have been skipping my anger management classes.

#3 - People who microwave fish and cheese at work - I don't know why old people can't seem to smell the noxious odors their lunches emit, maybe their loss of the sense is some evolutionary defense mechanism you know, because old people are closer to death and thus partially decomposed and dead bodies stink. More problematic you can't remind them how bad it used to smell back in the days when they were young and old people would microwave fish and cheese cuz they didn't have microwaves back then. On the bright side, they have fragile hip bones...

#2 - Starting a list at #5 before realizing you don't have five things to talk about - Not that that would apply to me or anything. I'm just saying, in theory, that would be really annoying and kind of embarrassing. It'd be like asking that doctor for Levitra all over again, I mean, in theory. Wait, it's for my friend! No?

#1 - Not really having an steady opinion on healthcare reform - Look, I mean I'm torn. Sure it'd be nice for everyone to be able to see a doctor, and yes it'd be comforting to know that should my bosses ever find out that I haven't done any actual work since Thursday... January 29, 2009 (you checked it didn't you, feel stupid now dontcha?) and somehow think that were a fireable offense I would still be able to see a doctor who could renew my prescription for Lev-- umm allergy medication, but then again, sometimes we're better off putting great grampa on an ice floe and pushing him out to sea, you know? I mean do you think great gamps is gonna let you get away with that if he knows theres a bed waiting for him in a hospital? Heck no, especially not if you plan of driving all the way to Canada, he'll escape long before then... trust me. You should totally fly next time...

Testing... Testing

2009-09-22T13:05:00.006-04:00

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF MEN’S PUBLIC RESTROOMS
#10 – Never take the middle urinal. This applies to bathrooms with the standard three stall setup. In such cases one must tae either the first or third urinal, leaving a one urinal barrier in case of company.

#9 – If at all possible, do not use the first urinal. Generally, they are adjacent to the sink and lack the dividing partition on the right testicle side. The price of good hygiene should not be having to watch you pee.

#8 – Don’t pee into the water. A proper urinal, or even a public toilet will have a porcelain wall for you to pee against silently. Eschewing the use of this wall and peeing loudly into the shallow puddle of water at the bottom of the bowl is offensive and wrong. I don’t care how proud you are of your prostate health.

#7 – Do not start conversations with your urinal-mates. Just because you’re comfortable talking to others with your junk in your hand doesn’t mean everyone else is (though it probably means you at least have a shot at being successful in porn). Additionally, the odds of a misunderstanding or faux pas is greatly increased in said setting with people’s respective junk in their respective hands. That being said, if, however, you came into the bathroom with a friend and were already conversing, it is permissible to continue this conversation. One must nevertheless case and desist if said friend does not reply once the junk comes out.

#6 – Lift the seat. It’s an oldie but a goodie. Nothing contributes to that public men’s room aroma like urine aging on plastic.

#5 – The movie theater exception. If, post movie, you find yourself in a crowded bathroom and, for expediency’s sake, make use of a stall rather than a urinal, one can abstain from lifting the seat. The reasons for this are two fold 1) Those seats have more bacteria on them than an Iranian lab full of cultures, and 2) Only a moron would sit on one of those seats and its ok to pee on morons.

#4 – Flush. No it’s not cool to be environmentally conscious in a men’s room. When you are in a men’s room, it is the only environment on earth. Stepping through that door is like entering a breach in the time space continuum (Note: If you think this analogy is sci-fientifically inaccurate, well, enjoy your virginity). So please, make use of the mercy, pre-pee and safety flushes.

#3 – Do not primp. The mirror in a public bathroom is vestigial. It is nearly useless remnant from some long ago day when the room didn’t smell like your grandmother’s diaper. Get in, empty the tank, get out. If you must, one quick look and then end it. Whatever you think you’re gaining in hair adjustment will be more than canceled out by the aroma of stale urine following you.

#2 – Tie your shoelaces. Before going into a men’s room, make sure nothing but the soles of your shoes touches the bathroom floor. If you don’t, well, be prepared leave them untied in perpetuity.

#1 – If ever possible, use the women’s room.

NEW BEGINNINGS AND OTHER REDUNDENCIES

2008-10-23T17:32:00.003-04:00

Monumental news readers (both of you), it would seem my summer of sloth has come to an end. This Friday will mark the last day of my retirement, and this Monday will mark my return to New York's tax base. So, with work, and, inevitably, lots of free time in my afternoon's on the horizon (don't worry, I work for the city), I turn back to the blog. Thus without further ado (OK, feel free to make a reasonable amount of ado if you like)I fill you in on:

WHAT I LEARNED ABOUT PEOPLE DURING RETIREMENT

Lesson #1 - PEOPLE ARE JUDGMENTAL - You complain to a few people that calling at noon on a Tuesday is cutting into your rest, you invite a friend or two to for breakfast at 2pm, and all of a sudden people think you need to find something to do with your time. To all you haters out there (hehe, haters), I'm doing something with my time, it's called sleeping!

Lesson #2 - PEOPLE ARE SENSITIVE- I don't know maybe it's just me but I think damning me to hell is a bit of an overreaction. So I called you at work at 10:30pm and you still had hours to go before you could leave; so I laughed and laughed and laughed; so I mentioned I'd already taken two naps in the past 14 hours. I think we need to focus on the more important issues, like your anger management problems.

Lesson #3 - PEOPLE DON'T LIKE THEMSELVES VERY MUCH - I know I touched on this in lesson #1, but people truly don't understand how I could stand having all this free time. They couldn't understand how I was going to be able to amuse myself every day for, what turned out to be, two months (please keep your 'the the answer is stamina' jokes to yourself). 'All your friends work', they said. 'You won't have anyone to talk to', they said. I tried explaining to them that I had me. That I found myself funny, smart, entertaining and yes, if I'm honest, dead sexy. I mean really, what more could you ask for out of company?

Lesson #4 - PEOPLE THINK I'M A NARCISSIST - No comment.

Lesson #5 - AFTER ALL THIS TIME PEOPLE STILL UNDERRATE THE INTERNET - I woke up this morning before 10 am, go ahead, I'll wait for you to pick up your jaw, got it? OK, as I was saying I was up early this morning and after attending to my morning rituals (quick aside: the FDA recommends 32 grams of dietary fiber a day for men)I hopped on line to peruse recent developments in current events; politics, business, the economy, world news and sports. Seeing how it's October and a Thursday there were no football, hockey or basketball games for my local teams the night before and the Yankees and Mets were both out of they playoffs so I figured I'd start with the shortest topic and went straight to the sports sections of various websites and newspapers. Long story short, it's 6:30 pm and I decided to take a break from reading about baseball to write this post.

God I'll miss being retired.

THE CUISINE OF ETHIOPIA

2008-05-07T10:36:00.004-04:00

So I forgot my wallet at home today. I suppose I'm fortunate not to have been involved in some embarrassing story where I'm unable to pay for a meal I've just eaten, but the truth is, I think I'd prefer that eventuality to the present one.

You see, I'm hungry!

I don't know how familiar you all are with the human male's physiology, but it is a scientific fact that hungry men are grumpier and less efficient than their well-fed counterparts. Now, as I'm inefficient even when well-fed (actually I'm borderline comatose after a good shawrma platter), this hunger vaults me from inefficient all the way up to detrimental.

That being said, I'm still quite grumpy and this serves little to no use. Let me give you an example: Apparently one of the secretaries in our NJ office lost her father (I don't mean this in sense where you start talking about the internet and the eyes of your parental unit glaze over and the words "well, just don't talk to anyone long distance" plop out {or is that just my mother?}[speaking of which how old do you have to be to think you still have to worry about long distance])

Anyway, her dad died, and because we care, someone bought her a greeting card, to which we were all expected add our names and condolences. Now, we've covered greeting cards on here before (I'd link to it, but like there's that whole hunger = useless thing), but I think rhyming couplets reach a whole new level of absurd when it's an 'I'm sorry for your loss' card. I mean, is that really the time for a limerick? "I'm sorry your father went and kicked the bucket, but did your hear the one about the girl from Nantucket?" Actually, that's rather funny, but I'm kind of twisted like that, and I'm assuming most people aren't borderline sociopathic.

Hmm, I feel like I may have drifted from my point, where was I? Ah, yes, so they gave me this dumb card to sign in middle of what should have been my lunch hour. My stomach is rumbling, I'm seeing spots, and at that moment, I was of the opinion her father was better off than the rest of us. I know it doesn't justify it, but I don't care, I wrote it and i stand by it! OK, so maybe drawing an arrow toward said limerick and writing "what he said" isn't the most friendly gesture, but there's a good reason I didn't sign my name next to it!

BY ANY OTHER NAME

2008-05-05T09:30:00.004-04:00

So, where was I?

I must say, I've missed our little chats. I know it's a bit of a cliche, but you guys are really just great listeners; I always feel comfortable opening up to you. I mean if not for you, observations like, "Cinco de Mayo being the worst ever name for a holiday", would just disappear amongst the synapses and ganglia. Now, don't get too pleased with yourselves, I am after all doing all the work, and to be honest, you aren't exactly the most stimulating company, so there's plenty of room for improvement. That being said, here it is:

Top Five Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - Cinco de Mayo - I'll be honest, I've done no research at all on this matter, but I think it's fair (not that I care) to say that this is pretty much the dumbest name for a holiday in the brief history of man and long weekends. Seriously, The guy who thought up CSI Green Bay used more creativity than whoever established this holiday. Things sounding cooler in Spanish aside, the name for the holiday that falls on May fifth is, May fifth. Even Big Bird thinks that name lacks imagination.

#4 - Tomato Juice - You know what occurred to me a second and a half into taking my first ever sip of tomato juice? If you can pour it on pasta and call it a sauce, you shouldn't be allowed to call it juice. I'm sure lycopene is really good for me and all, but I don't think that's any excuse for putting a straw in tomato sauce and calling it a beverage. I have no proof but I'm relatively certain the people behind this fiasco are the same ones that brought us soy MILK (I never knew soy beans had nipples).

#3 - Allergies - Now, far be it from me to question the good old prime mover, but as we turn the calendar to spring, I feel I must once again question the utility of of allergies. I'm not quarrelling with the existence of disease, I understand a thinning of the herd is necessary for the greater good, but I don't understand how having mucus and tears leak and fill every orifice in my head contributes in any way to society's greater good. Was God concerned that with Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts aging and the 'Sex and the City' Generation taking front and center, the tissue industry would crumble? Judging by the fact that Patrick Dempsey still has a career I'd venture to say that they're doing just fine. So how about it big guy?

#2 - CEO's - Look, I'm as greedy as the next Jew, but even I find myself throwing up in my mouth when I hear a CEO say that cutting his pay from $400,000,000 would be bad for the economy because if we cut the pay for CEO's we won't be able to attract the greatest talents. Let's ignore for a moment the fact that turning a massive profit while running an oil company is a job that a retarded, dyslexic, product of incest, orangutan could do without having to take a break from pulling fleas out of his coat, but is someone out there really saying that there are geniuses out there who would give up a career in business because they'd only make $300,000,000? What are they going to do instead? Invent Soy milk?

#1 - The fact that haven't seen 'Ironman' yet - If this lasts any longer I'm pretty sure I'll be the subject of the Scarlet Letter II. There are people in Ethiopia who traded this week's rotten banana for tickets to that movie. Speaking of which, I was reading a cooking magazine (shut up) and there was an article entitled, 'The Cuisine of Ethiopia' I'd do a joke but it almost seems like overkill.

A LESS THAN AWESOME VACATION

2008-04-30T14:37:00.002-04:00

I know, I know, I've been gone for a while. I know what some of you're thinking, he ran out of stuff to complain about, he got lazy, realized no one was ever going to post a comment. These, friends, are lies! I will never run out of things to complain about. I have always been lazy and well, OK that last one's probably true, ingrates! Anyway, the truth is, embarrassing as it might be, I've been working! (I apologize, I realize that was an awful lot of exclamation points for a single paragraph) I don't know how it happened. It started out, innoucuously enough, with one attorney tendering her resignation. Her work was disbursed among the remaining attorneys and i thought life would go along as normal. Only it didn't. It would seem, unlike me, the other attorneys actually do quite a lot of what I had been heretofore calling "work", only they do it without the quotation marks. So that, in short (or long), is where I've been. Also baseball season started and my fantasy baseball teams are in contention. Whatever, you're just jealous. Anyway, that's all for now, but I'll be back with more soon, it looks like I only have to "work" in the near future.

ALL I CARE ABOUT IS... ARE YOU HAPPY WITH YOUR HAIRCUT?

2008-03-24T09:35:00.003-04:00

THE TOP FIVE THINGS THAT BOTHER ME TODAY:

#1 - People who think I’m dumb – JP Morgan has today announced that it will raise its offer for Bear Stearns from $2 per share to $10 per share. For all you liberal arts majors out there, they’ve quintupled their offer. This leads us to ask, why? Need to ask why? But didn’t JP Morgan give a reason for upping its offer by 500%? Yes, yes they did, and here it is: “we want to pacify angry Bear shareholders.”

Really? That’s the best they could come up with? In essence, they’re asking you to believe that they’re willing to quintuple their offer, not because they think that Bear Stearns is a steal even at five times the price, not because the government has essentially indemnified you against any loss by guaranteeing $30 BILLION in losses, but because they want to appease people who are angry? Who believes this crap?

They upped the offer not because angry people would reject the offer and further weaken the economy, but because they’re greedy vultures who, after thinking they’d safely snuck away with a well preserved carcass found themselves under the glaring spotlight of other vultures, vultures who asked; why didn’t the government ask me if I’d pay more to buy BS? Vultures who said; hell, the building alone is worth over a billion dollars and really, how much can they be on the hook for over and above $30 billion in guarantees? (I grant you that the whole ‘vulture’ analogy fell apart rather quickly, unless of course vultures have an organized system of government with a central bank and spotlights, but I feel like the comparison remains apt.)

#2 – People who discuss their aberrant lifestyles on the bus – Things I don’t want to hear a man talking about at 8am: 1) The various threesomes in which you have engaged 2) The moral hazards of dating two sisters and why you should be excused for their violations (morals and sisters) 3) Interest rates on 15 year T-bills in relation to junk bonds. That last one was unrelated but you know, it’s still annoying.

#3 – Time – I can’t decide if I want it to go by faster or slower. It’s really making me sound like a hypocrite. Though maybe we could have some sort of relativity machine that makes time feel slower on weekends, but faster on weekdays, but not on legal holidays, or sick days or vacation, or at night when I get home from work. OK I think I may need some more time with this.

#4 – Internet sites that hide customer service numbers – Who on God’s green Earth decided that a FAQ list could take the place of a customer service number? You know what question I asked frequently? Where’s the damn number! Didn’t see that on their precious little list. Now I know even if I get to customer service I’ll get screwed worse than those two sisters, but dude, come on, at least pretend like you care that I’m unsatisfied. Throw me a bone!

#5 – Reporters and their dumb questions Part II – There was a shooting outside some sports bar in the Bronx last night so of course the local news sent a reporter up there to interview people who live in the area. This particular reporter had exactly one interview make the cut. Her interviewee, a man who lives in the neighborhood, did not witness the shooting, and knew nothing about the bar, or the people involved. In fact, his knowledge, he said, was limited to the fact that there was a shooting. So what insightful question did our intrepid reporter ask this man with no useful information? Wait for it...

“Does this incident make you feel less safe living here?”

Bam! There it is. The only redeeming feature was the man’s response,

“Well, someone got shot, that doesn’t make me feel more safe.”

MOMMY, WOW! I'M A BIG KID NOW!

2008-03-19T09:19:00.004-04:00

Hello all,

Before we begin today I just want to ask if any of you caught The Daily Show last night, if so, you'd have heard John Stewart deliver a joke that pretty much copied my 'Oh, he only made those racist threatening remarks because black people are angry, THAT'S a relief' joke. Now I'm not trying to say I have a copyright on the joke, though if any of you out there know anything about copyright infringement, call me, but I thought you'd appreciate knowing that, as a devoted reader of the best blog on the interweb highway, you're always ahead of the current events/comedy curve. Go on, give yourself a pat on the back.

Today's Thoughts:

This Bear Stearns news is becoming fishier and fishier. In case you aren’t aware the trouble started last week when rumors started circulating that BS had a liquidity issue. (Now, while I admit I may not grasp the full depth of the crisis posed by a lack of liquidity, I do understand that when people come asking for money you owe them, you can’t pay them back in office space.) BS responded by saying, no no, we don’t have a liquidity issue, we’re the Evian of investment banking, the Perrier of sub-prime mortgages, the Poland Spring of cash on hand (This may not be the central cause, but as an incidental point, it’s probably not the best idea to invoke Poland, the polish or anything that brings to mind a Polak joke, when defending your business acumen, it could lead to well, more jokes, e.g., how does a Polak solve a liquidity crisis? By selling his stock for a 93% discount!).

Anyway, it would seem people believed these rumors, not the Chairman of BS (though really when evaluating the trustworthiness of a statement, I feel like the guy called the Chairman of BS is at a severe disadvantage.), and in response called in their debts. Accordingly, a liquidity crisis, whether real or imagined before, became, unquestionably, real. What interests me, however (and if it interests me you can be sure you’ll see it on the Daily Show), is that the SEC is now investigating the source of those rumors; attempting to discover if they may have been perpetuated and perpetrated on the market by people who had shorted BS’s stock. In other words, if people made crap up so they’d win their bet about BS going down. This, apparently, is illegal.

More to the point though, I mean rumors are rumors, and people will always wonder if they’re true and maybe speculate on their own (unless they’re about Tom Cruise being a nutbag Scientologist who brainwashed his wife and thinks Earth was spawn by alien’s, in which case they ARE true and doubting them makes you kind of a ‘tard), but what we’re talking about here are rumors, possibly unsubstantiated ones destroying an entire investment bank. BS stock wasn’t sold by uninitiated tourists from Omaha who flinch at the sight of a working car, it was dumped by professionals, people at the top of their field, if they were hookers, Elliot Spitzer wouldn’t be able to afford them. Yet, these supposed masters of their domain, these MBA waving, hair gel smearing, gym at lunch going, fat bonus taking, cowards, wet themselves at the thought of a BS liquidity crisis, like a thirsty octogenarian with bladder control issues. These are the people in charge of our economy, the people’s who’s confidence and fears decide whether we will have to continue pretending the Canadian dollar is worth less than our own or whether we can go back to using them as kindling and toilet paper (surprisingly soft, though not very absorbent) Does this not concern anyone else?

THE AUDACITY OF RACISM

2008-03-18T13:58:00.003-04:00

Just a few quick thoughts today:

- Barrack Obama is torn. He likes his pastor, he feel connected to him after being a member of his church for 20 odd years, but at the same time, it seems the guy is a flaming racist. This wouldn't be a particulary big problem if oh I don't know, say it were 50 years ago and Obama and his pastor were both white, but we have cell phones internet and youtube and so it's a very very big problem. Obama's response, people say dumb things when they're angry, and black people are angry. Black people are angry; I'm sure that will calm the fears of all white people the world over.

- I was going to write today about NY's new governor - a blind man - admitting to having affairs with multiple women several years ago. One doesn't generally admit to these things in advance, but my guess is that, seeing the climate, he decided admitting to having sex with people to whom he wasn't married wouldn't be nearly as bad now, as it would be once the sins of 'Elliot I'll pay more if you don't Spitzer' faded from the collective consciousness. I was going to ask how a man who couldn't even appreciate the concept of identical twins, could desire the company of so many different women and for that matter how he could get away with it. These may well be valid questions, but they've lost my interest. No, the question that does come to mind, the question that seems inevitable is, if the public wants an elected official who won't make dumb decisions for sex, why hasn't it elected more eunuchs and women? Oh that's right, Hillary Clinton.

- Bear Stearns was bought up by Morgan Stanley for $215 million, and the government promised to cover $30 billion in losses should it be necessary. According to my admittedly weak math skills they just got a $30,000 million loan for $215 million or a loan of over $150 for every dollar spent. I can't imagine how we ever got into a mortgage crisis.

MY HANDS ARE A DEADLY WEAPON

2008-03-17T11:58:00.000-04:00

I’m annoyed. That’s right friends, get your ticker tape, contact the balloon people close down the canyon of heroes, I’m annoyed and I’m back with a fresh installment of:

The Top Five Things That Bother Me Today

#5 – Odds – As some of you may know poker is allegedly a game of odds; play when the odds are in your favor and you’ll win money, do otherwise, and you’ll be standing in line next to the employees of Bear Stearns. I played poker last night (for the last time). I played it well. I played the odds; I waited for the right moment to strike, and when the odds were overwhelmingly in my favor, strike I did. Now I say it is allegedly a game of odds because despite my caution, despite my self-control, despite my prayers for an ace not to show up on the river, here I sit with a decidedly lighter wallet. The thing is, no matter how I played the hand, no matter what I might have tried to do otherwise, I was always going to lose. It was ordained, predestined, fated if you will. I don’t know what lesson you’d glean from such a defeat, but I can tell you what I’ve learned; ODDS ARE DUMB! From now on when I play poker (did I say I was never playing again?) I’m going to appeal to a force more powerful than simple odds, an authority more consistent than statistics. So, if anyone knows a good shaman or witch doctor, send them my way, I have a game Saturday night.

#4 – The Media – In case you hadn’t heard twenty story crane collapsed over the weekend, destroying a townhouse and sending rubble and debris out across Second Avenue in New York. Understandably streets were closed, cars were rerouted and traffic has built. Now all of this is newsworthy information, all of this is information a reporter should convey to the public. What pisses me off is when that reporter then takes a camera man into the street to interview the people in said cars, stuck in said traffic. I sat there watching cars around the man being interviewed drive by, slowly, but still, moving. Meanwhile this yutz sat in his car, immobile, answering questions as insightful as, ‘how do you feel about the traffic?’ how does he feel about the traffic!? Are you freaking serious!? Forget the fact that between the yutz the cameraman and the reporter they’re actually making traffic worse, this reporter wants to know if sitting in traffic on your way to work at 8:00 in the morning is pleasant!

So to recap: The reporter reporting on how bad the traffic is is actually making more traffic, while he asks someone stuck in said traffic, if traffic is bad. My head hurts.

#3 – Power Hungry Secretaries - Now don’t get me wrong, generally speaking, I love secretaries. Well, I love the idea of secretaries. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Don’t look at me like that, you know you’d do it too if you could. Anyway, before I get too far afield, what I’m talking about are not the secretaries of Congressional fantasies, but the battle axes generally found in doctors offices, standing between you and your physician like that big fiery red demon thing with the whip in the first Lord of the Rings movie. You know the type, they’re arrogant, mad with power and use expressions like, “I’m sorry, but that’s office policy.” I don’t know what it is about having the power to make appointments that makes these bottom rung wretches think they deserve to control their little universe, but someone needs to clarify the chain of command. An appointment book isn’t a weapon, but my fist is, and the next time one of them pulls this crap again, I’ll demonstrate the difference.

#2 – Non-Legal holidays – How is today a holiday? I’m at work, I’m not leaving early, and a fat woman wearing about a gallon of $4 perfume sat on my left thigh on the bus this morning. So while I’m sure St. Patrick did something to someone that makes people wistful, I’d appreciate it if we didn’t call it a holiday. It’s a tease.

#1 – Morons - I wish I could make this a narrower category, but when I’m assigned extra work because the office manager doesn’t think I’m busy because my desk is so clean. I find myself at a loss for words less broad than moron. I mean I can think of plenty of adjectives to put BEFORE moron, but still, moron is the word that comes to mind. Imagine, someone thinking that I have all this free time. Preposterous!

...BUT I'M A F%CKING STEAMROLLER

2008-03-13T11:14:00.001-04:00

Well, I don’t know what happened between yesterday and today, but I’m no longer at all interested in writing about Elliot Spitzer. I watched some of the monologues and I have to say, I was not impressed. It’s sort of like being Governor, at first it seems like fun, then after a year you realize everyone hates you, you haven’t gotten anything accomplished and you can’t even use your millions to have sex with prostitutes. That’s how I feel, I thought I’d been given this great material, this wonderful story that could carry me for days, and now, barely one news cycle into it, I’m bored beyond words, and slightly disappointed at what gets three diamonds these days (if I were Mitsubishi I’d be insulted). Nevertheless, the story is at the center of the current events universe and there is no escaping it now. So for you’re sick and twisted pleasure, here’s today’s top ten

ELLIOT SPITZER’S EXCUSES:

#10 – I’m sorry, is that frowned upon?

#9 – I have three young daughters, the economy is in the toilet and the job market is drying up, I just wanted to see what hooking, as a ‘hofession’, offered my girls.

#8 – Is it too late to offer her an internship?

#7 – I want my wife to be President.

#6 – I’m rich! Biatch!

#5 – But I paid her in Canadian dollars! It’s not real money, it shouldn’t count!

#4 – Hey, come on, who HASN’T spent $80,000 on hookers? Am I right? Guys? Guys? Really? No one? Have you SEEN your wives?

#3 – The sex was free, the money was just so she’d stop calling herself an aspiring singer. I mean if I have to hear about her American Idol audition one more time...

#2 – Would you believe me if I told you I’m a eunuch?

#1 – Did I mention I’m rich?

BUT MY DAD SAID I WAS GOING TO BE PRESIDENT!

2008-03-12T10:42:00.002-04:00

I'm torn. On the one hand, I find myself rather pleased with the changes I've made to the blog. I feel refreshed, invigorated. I feel like that guy in the Irish Spring commercial. On the other, Eliott Spitzer, Governor of NY, just resigned because he got caught paying protitutes for sex. So, here I am, with a great column and another twenty-four hours till Current Events Day, and, as anyone who's ever watched 24 can tell you, a day can last an eternity. SO you know what? Screw it! Today and tomorrow will be devoted to what I'm sure will soon be known as (due to rampant unoriginality) HOOKERGATE.

So I know you've all read about this by now so let me just highlight my favorite aspects of the scandal:

- He didnt use an alias to reserve a room for his hooker, he used the name of one of his closest friends and biggest campaign contributer. Now THAT'S gratitude.

- He scheduled for the night before Valentine's Day. Apparently he feels men should get more than a 'thank you, hun' and a hug for four grand.

- He got caught because of suspicious banking activity. If you have a family fortune closing in on a billion dollars - that's one thousand million for those of you who have trouble comprehending just how much money that is - how do you not have a safe somewhere in your house with a million dollars in what I like to call, 'discretionary funds'? It's not using a credit card to pay for a protitute, though according to the NY Post they do accept Visa and Mastercard (Note to advertising agencies, I have a GREAT idea for a 'priceless' commercial, call me.), but I expected more from an ivy leaguer.

Anyway all of this is prelude to my forthcoming unauthorized biography of Mr. Spitzer. The current title in contention are:

#3 - Ho Money, Ho Problems

#2 - He Ain't Nothin But A Horndog

#1 - Elliot 'I'll Pay Extra If You Don't' Spitzer

More titles to come as I think them up.

EXCHANGE RATES

2008-03-11T09:37:00.003-04:00

Sorry about skipping Monday's 'Top Five Things That Bother Me' but, given recent events, I couldn’t quite work up the necessary agitation to whine about minor inconveniences peeves. I know, I’m as surprised by this as you are, but I can’t control the muse, only direct it. That being said let me share with you a story that defines America like no other.

So I went to Starbucks yesterday. No, that isn’t the end of the story, though I suppose that would do a pretty good job of defining America all on its own. There’s more, however. So I’m in Starbucks, and while I’m waiting for them to make me my Grande caramel apple spice (that’s a medium cup of warm apple juice, in English) I picked up a CD they had on sale, let me rephrase, a CD they had, FOR sale, nothing in Starbucks is ever actually, ON sale. Anyway, it was a Buddy Holly collection (because Starbucks is oh, so cool and retro), a rather good one at that, even if it was lacking Brown-Eyed Girl. The thing was, when I flipped the CD over to look at the price (because when you’re in Starbucks spending $3.50 for cup of apple juice, buying CD’s doesn’t seem all that dumb anymore), it still listed the price in Canada and the U.S. Now, I don’t know how familiar all of you are with international currency, but I think it’s safe to assume you’re all aware of the fact that earlier this year the Canadian dollar actually edged ahead of the greenback in terms of buying power. It’s a day that will live in infamy for me, a day when I could no longer make jokes about Canadian quarters (they should be called eighths), a day on which I could no longer point to the loon and the toon as having more comedic value (looney toons) that monetary. In short, it was sort of like finding out that a 1984 Luis Sojo error card is worth more than a 1923 Babe Ruth rookie card. It just doesn’t make sense, no matter how true it may be.

Anyway, the point of the story is, when I looked at the price on the back and saw the Canadian price, it was a full TWO DOLLARS MORE. That’s right people. Here in the United Sates of Hell Yeah America, we don’t care about exchange rates. We don’t give a damn about relative value or, you know, accuracy. In my United States, Canada’s money is worth less and regardless of the economic climate, the apparent recession, rising inflation and whatever other so called ‘negative economic indicators’ may point to the dollar’s weakness, it always will be.

So come on down Canadian tourists. Bring your loons and toons, your French accents and your God save the Queens you European wannabes. Just remember, here, in the United States of Hell Yeah America, we’ll always be better than you.

Just for fun I’ve decided to append a hypothetical conversation between a Canadian Tourist and an American store owner.

Canadian Tourist: Hi I’d like to buy this.
American Store Owner: That will be five dollars
CT: Here you go sir
ASO: What the f#ck is this piece of sh$t crap?
CT: Pardon me?
ASO: You heard me motherf#cker what kinda crap are you trying to pull?
CT: What? But it’s Canadian money, it’s a $10 bill!
ASO: Candian huh?
CT: Yes, that’s right
ASO: OK, well that’ll be ten dollars then.
CT: What? You said it was five?
ASO: It’s five dollars for REAL money, for this Canadian sh&t it’s ten
CT: But... our dollars worth more?
ASO: What the f@ck did you just say?
CT: ...Our... our dollar’s worth more?
ASO: Say that again! Go ahead, say it! I’m beggin’ ya, PLEASE, say it, just say it once more so I can beat the snot outta your pansy @ss. You hockey loving, anti-American, commie bastard. SAY IT!
CT: So... ten dollars?
ASO: F@ckin’ right!

America... Hell Yeah!

ROLE PLAYING

2008-03-06T16:59:00.001-05:00

CURRENT EVENTS DAY:

An unknown subject bombs an army recruiting center in Times Square. As the bomb went off at 3 a.m., no one was injured and only windows were broken. Seeing how we don’t know who perpetrated this act I will write a commentary for each possible group responsible.

Muslim Terrorists:

Look, I’m not a racist (well...). I’m sure there are smart people in the Middle East (aside from the Jews). I’m just saying, those training camps have a lot more work to do. I mean I’ve seen them on the monkey bars, they’re quite good on the monkey bars; though to be honest, I saw this six year old in the park over the weekend and he was totally dominating the monkey bars and I don’t think he had any terrorist training at all, so you know, I don’t know how much of the credit for monkey bar excellence I can attribute to terrorist training camps. In my opinion if they want to retain any credibility at all they’re going to have to start teaching their charges (ha, charges, that’s funny, you know, cuz they explode) about time zones. You can’t send Abu to the U.S. and not tell him he needs to change the time on his watch, that’s a rookie mistake. Still I suppose you can’t blame it all on the instructors. If Abu shows up at 3am and sees the streets empty and deserted he should probably put it together himself, right? Although I like to imagine that the conversation in his head went something like this:

Where is everybody? American’s are so lazy, how did they become so rich? This is creepy; it’s like I Am Legend, or that scene in Vanilla Sky where Tom Cruise walks though an empty Times Square. Allah! That Tom Cruise is crazy, I mean really, I understand being devoted to your beliefs but there has to be a limit where your reason steps in and says; “Why am I laughing uncontrollably at my own jokes? This is not smart, you’re making a fool of yourself, stop acting crazy!” Anyway, where did I put that explosive belt?

American Militants:

Jim-Bob, are you listening? Turn down the radio, oh, wait, is that Billy Ray Cyrus? I love that song, yeah we can wait till the songs over. My achy breaky heart, hmm hmmm hmmm. You know, I don’t know why he didn’t have more hits. What? Oh yeah, right so here, take this bomb and go blow up that gyro stand in Times Square. Gyro, it’s like shwarma, I dunno they put turkey on a spit put some lamb fat on top and just slice the meat off when it gets good and brown. Yeah, it is delicious. I know, I told you we’ll go for breakfast right after. Sure, sure we can get shwarma too. No we can’t get it before you blow it up! That towel head told me I had to wait in line behind some brownie. He has to pay. Cuz the turban looks like a towel, that’s why. Ok we’re almost there you ready to rock? No! Don’t light it yet! Crap! Get rid of it! Get rid of it! I don’t care where, throw it somewhere! Oops. Well, I guess we can get that gyro now.

Anti-War Protesters:

People from the army are evil. I love soy products.

ESQUIRE MAN OF THE YEAR

2008-03-04T22:58:00.004-05:00

Morning all, yesterday was rather hectic and to be honest, I'm not sure I had many thoughts other than, well, F$ck! And, yesterday being a free form, channeling my thoughts day, it didn't quite seem post worthy. Today, however, well, as I start writing this it's still yesterday, but I'm home and wearing sheepskin slippers so all my troubles have melted away in shearling. Speaking of which, it would Mr. Obama could use some sheepskin himself.

Today:

I had some more rambling above, but I had my first real court hearing today and figured that was more important than telling you about my theories on why someone might be inclined to put their foot up a sheep's butt (It's cuz they make good slippers). Anyway, more about me. It was my first actual hearing, the odds were long and stacked against us, but as I say after every time I foolishly call an all-in with nothing but an open-ended straight draw, "I liked my chances."

The judge wore black and expression to match. Opposing counsel was well prepared and sitting (this played to his advantage because I'm reasonably certain when he puts on a floppy ski hat he is frequently confused with gnomes, elves and other stumpy people of dwarf stock). The case wasweak and failure was a foregone conclusion. Yet, there I was, undaunted, a lone (except for co-counsel) buttress for my clients hopes, a rock of consistancy and higher reasoning upon which her future stood. Questions were asked and answered, testimony was given and taken, yawns were stifled and hidden (it got boring at times, also I missed my midafternoon nap). And in the end, victory was ours!

Sure some might point to the fact that my co-counsel asked all but 3 of the questions, sure some might point to the fact that she did the opening and closing statement, some might even point to my - not quite to scale - doodle of a battleship as a sign that I played a less than central role in the outcome. Well, that'd be very mean of you. I mean really it'd just be rude!

I'D LIKE THE PIE, PLEASE

2008-03-03T10:18:00.005-05:00

It's Monday and that means I'm grumpy, so here, for your displeasure:

Top Five Things That Bother Me Today:

#5 - Inaccurate menus - I consider a menu to be a form of contract. A guaranteed offer to me, the consumer, that anything on this list that I may want, will be provided to me forthwith. Accordingly, when I hear, "I'm sorry, we're out of that." I find myself hungry for resititution (and apple mango pie). Imagine what would happen if we let other businesses get away with this kind of false advertising. Men walking into brothels would find the healthy, voluptuous blonde they ordered was, in point of fact, a well-fed, STD ridden, black woman. After visiting said brothel you'd go to your doctor for a shot of broad spectrum anti-biotics and he'd offer you a flu shot instead. You'd go to the drug store to buy gauze for the oozing postule that has formed in your groinal region and be offered new underwear instead. I don't mean to judge, but I don't think fresh undies solves the problem.

#4 - People who keep saying, "Can you hear me?" - No! No, they can't hear you, you know why? Because your phone has no service! You know what the sign of them being able to hear you would be? If they answered you! They remind me of those people who used to use string and 2 cups to converse, only in this case their string isn't attached to anything else. You're dumb! Can you hear that?

#3 - Air Fresheners - Ever been in a taxi? Yea, nuff said.

#2 - Gn vs. Kn - OK, I get the whole silent letter thing but can we please just pick a silent consonant to put in front of the letter 'N' and stick with it? Just for a little while? On the one hand; Gnome, Gnat, Gnarled. On the other Knee, Knife, Knock. Is 'N' like a letter placement organization? Feeling underutilized? Feeling like you're too low in the QWERTY universe? Well then, come on down to words that begin with the letter 'N' we'll make room for you. If I see 'Zneel' any time soon I'm launcing an investigation.

#1 - Being put on hold - Ooooh! I really don't like it. What I like even less is that fake voice telling me my call is important. Thank you, I feel so reassured knowing that you're as confident as I am that my beef's legitimate. But the truth is, they don't think that, in fact, if it was honest, that voice would say, "Customer service costs alot so instead of connecting you to an actual person immediately, we're going to keep you on hold for 5 minutes and hope that you just get fed up, hang up and ultimately, give up on coplaining entirely." I am sad to say, I can't seem to find a strategy better than theirs, maybe I should send them an advertisement for that brothel.

THE BALM IN GILEAD

2008-02-27T22:40:00.005-05:00

It is a sad day friends, a sad day for us all. What was once a pleasant, mutually beneficial arrangement has become a yolk around my neck. It has come to my attention that certain people who, for some reason or another, feel entitled to my time, may have begun to suspect that I how can I put this diplomatically, don't do very much all day. We shall, for the sake of brevity, refer to these people as 'my bosses'. Accordingly, today's post is actually being written in what has, heretofore, been a part of my day unsullied by something as menial as blogging, my free time.

As many of you know yesterday, two days ago if we use your point of view, Starbucks, home of the $3.25 cup of warm apple juice with a squirt of caramel, closed its doors for three hours to retrain its Baristas (a.k.a. people who smile way more than anyone wearing a baseball cap to work ever should). This was apparently problematic to some for, as Alba Morales, a community college student remark "A lot of of people come here to make out, read sleep. I can't imagine how lost people will be." So you can imagine my surprise when I went to work today (yesterday) and didn't find horny, book carrying, narcoleptic college students walking around with those big tourists map Japanese people use to stop sidewalk traffic. They weren't roaming from coffee shop to cafe hoping to find an African blend with just the right amount of mumbo jumbo about hints, notes and aromas (try our mid-African blend with a hint of tobacco, as well as notes of cinnamon and chicory. The aroma alone will leave you craving a second cup.). NO, they just hung around not reading, sleeping, or making out, and waited for Starbucks to reopen.

All of this is a long way of saying are we dumb? We're willing to pay 3 bucks for coffee and glorified hot cocoa because there are couches on which we can read make out and sleep, simultaneously even, if you drop a mickey into someone's machiatto. Are we really convinced that no one else in all of NY city knows how to make an espresso? And if not, why the hell do we wait? I guess the answer is (I'm guessing cuz I've only given this about 4 minutes of thought), we are creatures of comfort. We are willing to pay more for leisure than we are value.

Look at the evidence. We pick out coffins with cushioned interiors lined in velvet and satin because the thought of being trapped in the same uncomfortable bed forever is so incredibly contrary to our nature that it even blinds us to the fact that when the time to use it rolls around we're, you know, dead. We have dress pants that stretch as you stuff your face (the comfort fit waist band adjusts with your body). We pay hundreds of dollars more for a flight so that we can recline our seat and put our arms on both arm rests simultaneously (By the way don't you hate it when your at the movies and the people on each side of you each steal on of your arm rests? Then you have to spend the whole movie with your shoulders all hunched forward, hoping and waiting for the moment when they move their arm and you can strike, cobra-like, with a forearm to the cushion and claim that 3 inches of upholstered foam your own. There should be some sort of binding arbitration you can enter into to avoid the problems caused by the one guy hogging two arm rests. Also, this is why you should never got to the movies alone, at least if you have a friend you know that if all else fails, you can always steal their arm rest.) We even have comfort food. Though now that I think about Ms. Morales' comment I'm forced to wonder if the draw of comfort food is the promise that somewhere out there someone else is craving chili, and, if the seats are comfortable enough, she will make out with you.

...THE GROUCH

2008-02-24T20:54:00.006-05:00

I like starting my week off by defying expectations. I find it adds a certain measure of uncertainty to what is otherwise a tedious and repetitive slog. Granted, in this case, your expectations were the result of my telling you today's column would be a 'Top Five Things That Bother Me', so in actuality it's more like starting the week out with a lie, but that's close, and as they say at Congressional hearings; if you can call it something other than a lie there's a chance you won't go to jail for perjury.

That being said, today's column will be a bit of a catch-all, a rambling rant on the Oscar's. Yes, I'm counting the Oscar's as current events, I, and every other person between the ages of 30 and 15 count anything with John Stewart as current events.

So let me tell you what bothers me about awards shows. No, I don't care, I'm gonna tell you anyway. What bothers me about award shows is the underlying lie. What lie you ask? Good question, see I told you you'd get into it. Normally, an award is the result of some demonstrable achievement, you ran the fastest race, you scored the highest mark, you slept with the most men, whatever. And so, the anticipation, the tension that precedes the distribution of said award, is present not during the handing out of a medal, scholarship or big honkin bag of condoms, but in the revelation of the achievement itself. At the Oscar's there's no achievement, you don't get bonus points for knowing how to pronounce names of the directors of the foreign language animated short from Myanmar (Burma to those of you from the State Law and Order Restoration Council), you don't get a Best Supporting Actor for putting a misplaced boob back in a dress, you can't win anything at the Oscar's, you've already won or lost, you're just there to find out. And that's what pisses me off.

You know how long it would take to tell me who won in all the categories I care about? 13 seconds, no really, I timed it, 16 if your awards had 'No Country for Old Men' in the title. Yet for some reason they have a three and a half hour show. I know, I know, I can not watch, I can just read the award winners in the news the next day or online the day before. The thing is though, I can't, what they've done is turn this moronic 15 seconds of interest show into a cultural touchstone, a water cooler event that leaves the non-watcher nodding his head and laughing as someone repeats jokes he pretends to get. There's nothing in this country worse than being left out of the Monday morning coffee talk, it's what separates us from the machines and productive people. Sadly, I don't see a natural resolution to this dilemma, at least not until they start handing out big honkin bags of condoms at the Oscar's.

CHANGES... EVERYTHING CHAAAAAANGES

2008-02-21T18:05:00.003-05:00

Bienvenido (that's maid for welcome),

So I’ve been back at this blogging game for about 3 months now and I think its time I start making some changes. Now, like most of you, I am of the opinion that I am doing a wonderful job with this blog, even in its current format. That being said, as any good I-banker would tell you (unless he’s getting sued by someone) the key to long-term viability is diversification. So, painful as it might be for you to hear these words, I’m doing it for your own good.

From now on, blog favorite: ‘Top Five Things That Bother Me Today’ will be a once a week (Monday’s) column. Tuesday and Wednesday (Wed-nes-day, God that’s a dumb way to spell that), will be free form days, generally subject to whatever issues, events or customer service agents are dumb enough to make themselves part of my life. Thursday’s column will be devoted to current events. As reading the newspaper seems like a fading habit I can only hope that Thursday’s column will replace whatever reputable news organization you have relied upon heretofore.

The way I see it such a change will be beneficial for all parties involved as a)it will require you to do less reading and will b) allow me to spread my propaganda more easily.

Down with Pandas!

You can feel free to think of Thursday as the day on which we discuss why the addition of Pandas and Zebras to the endangered species list (Are zebras endangered? I considered doing some research before writing this, but then I realized you don't know either, and who wouldn't trust me? I'm the guy breaking news about 37% of public restroom users not washing their hands, I'm the CNN of the blog world!)is, in fact, a secret government conspiracy to promote racial harmony, and bamboo as a snack food.

If you don’t like the new format, or you want to compliment me on well, anything, feel free to post your opinions in the comments section, though I think we’ve established that commenting is, for the most part, well beyond your abilities. That's all for now.

BLOW ME!

2008-02-20T09:22:00.004-05:00

It's been a while friends. I'd apologize, but I'm not actually sorry, and I don't want to lie to you (unless it's for personal gain or amusement). Lots has happened though, so I'll try to sum it all up in the next couple of days. Time is short though so let's get down to business.

Top Five Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - Feeling Guilty About My Recurrent Lateness - I know what you're thinking (I generally do, you're predictable like that), I should feel guilty about being late all the time; its my fault, I'm wasting other people's valuable time, all that responsibility hokum. Fair point counselor (I know you're not a lawyer, did I mention I am? No? I am.). A lesser man, and by lesser man I mean someone willing to admit the existence of personal faults, might even think them winning arguments. That being said, as has been pointed out by Royalty, heads of state and my mom, I am not a lesser man. You see, the way I think about it, my inability to be on time is a sort of handicap, like a stutter or a limp or relying on puns. And we, and by we I mean people other than me, hold the handicapped to a lower standard; not blaming them for spitting all over you while they attempt to enunciate, or for jabbing your toe with their cane, or for ending every third sentence with "no pun intended." All I'm saying is, try to understand... nothing's my fault. Is that asking so much?

#4 - Hand Blowers in Public Restrooms - A recent survey found that as many as 37% of people don't wash their hands after using a public restroom. 37%!! Now while I just made up that statistic, you have to admit it's disturbing nonetheless. So my question is, why are we punishing the 63% of the population actually concerned with heptitis, by making them stand in a public restroom inhaling that pungent aroma of eau de urine? I get that the environment is important and that paper towels come from trees and there are reindeer in the Arctic, I just don't think I'm willing to inhale urine to protect them. Plus, I think the whole, 'let's use one-ply toilet paper in the stalls' idea, more than makes up for paper towel abuse.

#3 - Dramatizations - Have you ever been watching TV while someone being interview described an event from their life? Yes? Good. Have you ever then seen that incident re-enacted? With the littel words 're-enactment' or 'dramatization' in the bottom corner? Even better. Have you ever then asked yourself this? "How dumb do they think I am?" They really need to show me an actor picking a lock so I can understand what the guy on TV meant when he said, "I picked the lock."? Look I'm more than willing to admit that lots of people who aren't me are dumb, most in fact, but that doesn't mean we need to have illustrated conversations. What's next, caricature artists accompanying you on dates?

#2 - Sell By Date - I get the 'born on' date, I get the 'best if used by date', I do. I do NOT, however, in any shape way or form, comprehend the 'sell-by' date. Why are they even giving me this information? Is it a handy sugesstion for those in the retail milk resale business? Do they think I'm going to stand out on a corner screaming "MILK! Get your milk here."? Is there some secret algorithm that I'm unaware of by which you can derive the expiration date from the 'sell by' date? I feel like I need a dramatization to help me understand this thing.

#1 - Ryan Seacrest - I know I've covered this before but the man is EVERYWHERE! I passed some homeless men singing in the subway station last night and there he was giving me useless information about hobo#1 and his affinity for Colt .45 malt beer. I feel like instead of investigating the scab on Roger Clemen's butt Congress should get to work on legislation that limits the amount of time his lordship, 'Sir I Had Brown Hair in Season One' spends on camera each week.

I'm spent, more tomorrow.

HAPPY VAL--- OW!

2008-02-14T09:41:00.003-05:00

Really kinda sleepy today children. Fortunately, I get absolutely nothing out of doing this blog so I don't have to apologize for being lazy about it today. Though, if i was going to complain about something today, I'd have to say I'd choose, being conscious. There's just something about being awake right now that I consider an affront to my personal system of values and my views on social hierarchy. Anyway, I'm too tired to be really riled up about anything (yes, I know it's Valentine's Day, the dumbest day of the year, but honestly, is there anything left to say about it?) so here's today's alternate list:

OK you know what? No! I was going to put a list of random crap here, but now I'm starting to get annoyed. In the past five minutes three different paralegals have walked in and out of my office and upon exiting, each uttered the words, "Happy Valentine's Day." I'm sorry, but this is unacceptable. I've gotten my head around that whole chocolate and flowers thing and I understand that it's what girls have come to expect and you know what, fine, you can't always be 300 Spartans fighting a million Persians, sometimes you just go with the flow (besides the ancillary benefits are more than worth the buffornary), but I'm drawing the line at making this greeting worthy holiday.

It's just something you say on a holiday, it's no big deal you say? WRONG! You don't see people saying Happy President's day or Happy Columbus day do you? You don't hear people saying take care, Happy Flag day. NO! You only get this on Christmas, New Years and other religious holidays. That, my friends, is where this whole V-Day fiasco went from tolerably silly, to disturbingly insane. But that was just the first step. Much like the Terminator, this evil continues to evolve. To wit, women in my office are buying V-day flowers and gifts for their mothers and sisters and other allegedly close relatives. WTF!? At least back in the day you could always count on an ulterior motive behind any corny V-day gift, now, it's become an all inclusive lovefest of Greek orgy proportions. Ugh! please, just stop it! Yes, I realize I just equated giving unwarranted gifts to one's mom and sister with a Greek orgy, and no, I haven't decided how I feel about that.

That's it and that's all.

IT'S JUST CRAZY ENOUGH TO WORK

2008-02-13T09:14:00.005-05:00

Busy day today friends, busy day. I find myself unable to loaf , relax or otherwise ignore the work sitting on my desk. I must say, I find this disconcerting. So I have come here, my home away from TV, to force myself to be unprodctive, we shall see how it goes.

Yesterday I spoke of the perils of planet sized glutei squishing parts of your thigh whilst one makes use of public transportation. An intelligent reader, recognizing genius when he/she sees it, made use of the comments option to me for advice (Yes, I know I too was shocked to discover it is possible to post comments). He/she wrote that he/she has often been sat on and asked me for a solution. Well folks, after 12-16 seconds of pondering the solution came to me. From now on, when there is an empty seat next to you, if you see a gluteus super maximus lowering itself towards you, simply say, "seat's wet." If this is a cloth seat, as on the bus I ride, or at a movie theater, you're home free, if it is a plastic seat such as a train, one may be forced to spill just a bit of water , but really, is that too high a price to avoiding be maimed by a 200lb butt cheek? Anyway, I think this is the perfect solution, but, if like me, you prefer something a little more covoluted, the following are effective, yet rejected solutions:

Top Ten Ways To Get/Keep The Seat Next To You Empty:

#10 - Hey lady, what do you think you're doing!? You almost sat on my imaginary friend.

#9 - Make the beeep beeeep beeeeep sound trucks make when they shift into reverse as she starts to back her way into the seat.

#8 - Scream "Look! Cookies!"

#7 - Put a model mouse on the seat, you know, cuz elephants are afraid of mice

#6 - This may be a bit excessive and redundant given the prior suggestion of pouring water on the seat, but this is a guaranteed winner. Mark the seat as part of your territory by rubbing up against it, then peeing on it.
Note: seat will smell like pee, that may be a deal breaker for you, I don't know.

#5 - Wait till he's sat down, then ask him if he's been saved by the Lord Jesus Christ

#4 - In a just barely audible but creepy whisper say, "mmm, now that's what I call cushion for the pushin.'"

#3 - Order, and and read on said train, "Cannibal's Monthly"

#2 - Point at the seat then at the tuchus and say "Let me guess, you failed geometry."

#1 - Knock on his belly and say, "John? John! Are you in there?"

COME RIDE THE CYCLONE!

2008-02-12T10:17:00.000-05:00

What ho!

Good afternoon, sorry for the delay today but afterall, work does come first (pause, OK I'm done laughing now). I haven't really planned today's post out at all so you're going to have to bear with me, this is probably going to be a bit of a roller coaster ride.

I've decided to start a new habit. It's actually more of a hobby now that I think of it, habit being something you become accustomed to doing after significant repitions. Anway, my new hobby is making ambiguous statements that could be construed as a compliment, but in reality, aren't. Please note this is different than the backhanded compliment. Iwill illustrate:

a) The backhanded compliment - That makeup looks great on you, I can barely see your acne.
b) The Ambiguous Statement - Your son's so handsome, I can't believe it.

Now that you see the difference, I encourage you all to go out and practice this hobby as well. Already today I've used it on a barista at Starbucks - "You've got to be the most cheerful person I've ever met before 11am. " I've used it a co-worker, "I don't think anyone can tell you skipped your shower, you look just like you did yesterday." I've even used it on my mom, "It's rare for people go senile at your age." OK that one was less ambiguous but she's kinda losing it so i had to dumb it down for her. I'm kidding, of course (I'm not).

I've also recently been putting together my next list of: 'Things Someone Needs To Make' and since this isn't technically an invention, but more of a policy that needs to be instituted, I figure I'll share it with you today.

I know many of you are forced to make use of public transportation in order to make your daily commute (if you can afford to drive into the city and park in a lot on a daily basis, please make a donation to the 'I Have Significanty Less Money Than You Do, So Give Me Some Fund,' conveniently located in my back pocket). I also know, that you, as I, live in ever-present fear of the empty seat next to you being filled, overflowingly so, by the tuchus from planet, "How much more for the supersize?" If my policy is inistituted, the next time you find your field of vision of vision eclipsed by a 42" butt dropping out of orbit on a collision course for the 30 inches of empty seat adjacent to you, you can simply point to the poster of the seat back and wag your finger. In honor of today's roller coaster theme, I envision it looking something like this:

YOU MUST BE THIS NARROW TO RIDE IN THIS SEAT

(insert picture of a reasonably sized bottom here)

TALLY HO!

2008-02-10T22:19:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the workweek friends. I've missed you since we last interacted on Wednesday past. Well since you last read my beauteous thoughts and then gave me no feedback whatsoever, but who among us would make hay over such fine distinctions while amidst the company of friends. Oh yea, me. That being said, this post promises to be short, owing to a particularly stubborn case of the hiccups.

My friends, I cannot underestimate my shock at this moment. I have tried drinking water, holding my breath, looking at naked pictures of Whoopie Goldberg and yet, nothing. I have found neither refuge nor respite from these insidious and treacherous attacks on my person. I sit here immobilized, impotent to retaliate. How! How, I ask you, have we, the greatest species ever to roam this planet, with minds at our disposal that have made it possible to create a knife so sharp it can cut though a shoe; with minds so inventive we need 47 channels devoted to infomercials ever morning from 3 -8 am; how can we have all of this and yet have still discovered a solution to this scourge?

The mind absolutely boggles at the number of man hours that must be wasted every day by people jerking about to and fro like epileptic fish, tossed hither and thither like the morning catch at a fish market, and left at the non-existent mercy of trapped air in the gastrointestinal cavities. And yet, I overcome. I rallied, marshaled my forces to the silent yet resounding cry of Tally - hiccup - Ho! So without further ado, an abbreviated version of:

The Top Five Things That Bother Me Today:

#5 - The gas pump - Are we really still at the point where I need to stand outside a car in 10 degree weather to fill up a gas tank? We can refuel planes in midair at six hundred miles an hour with highly flammable jet fuel, but you're telling me there's no way to get a parked car filled with 89 unleaded without sacrificing my health? Also I know foreign oil is evil, I've gotten the memo, but I get the idea that they're rubbing their power over us in our respective noses, otherwise, why the hell else would the lever on the gas pumps that I have to stand outside in the freezing cold in order to fill my car with gas, BE MADE OF FREAKING METAL! Every time I hold one of those doohickeys in my hand I'm convinced when I let go, I'll be parting with a swath of skin. The fact that it hasn't happened yet, is by the way, of no consolation. It's like knowing an attack of the hiccups is coming, what are you gonna do huh? Suffer, that's what.

UPDATE: I need to start filing patents as soon as I think these things up http://gizmodo.com/352441/a-robot-that-pumps-your-gas-at-long-last

#4 - The fact that I don't own a Wii - So my nephew got a Wii for his birthday on Sunday, he's six. Let me repeat that, my six year old nephew who is still impressed by change coming out of his ear got a Wii for his birthday whilst the closest I've gotten to an interactive gaming system is wadding up sheets of paper and shooting them into my garbage can.

#3 - Screeching - Why is it that God made children under the age of lets say ten years, people - if you use the term in its broadest sense - without the native intelligence to use it wisely, capable of vocalizing at pitches equal to the task of shattering my ear drums is a mystery and quite frankly, a grievance I hold with the man upstairs.

#2 - The Sunday morning paradox - I will revisit this for a more in-depth discussion but I will address it in brief now. In short, the Sunday morning paradox refers to the dilemma one faces on Saturday night at approximately 1am. To go to sleep or not? On the one hand, it is the weekend, on the other, one can only sleep so late Sunday morning, and if you stay up till 4 and sleep till 10am, by 10pm you will be exhausted and Monday becomes all the more dreaded

#1 - Hiccups! - Really? You need me to explain this?

HERE LIES...

2008-02-06T09:11:00.000-05:00

So I know I promised an explanation for why people in marching bands wear funny hats with feathers on top of them and and well, seeing as how I didn't actually do any research on the matter you're going to have to settle for my deductions. This is what my Sherlock Holmesian deductive skills have come up with:

People, some people, that is, in marching bands are called drum majors (my deductive skills also tell me that they probably play an instrument commonly known as 'the drum'). In the board game Stratego there are pictures of the different levels of soldiers under your command. the Marshal, the general the spy, teh miner, the scout the Major, you get the idea. Anyway, the major wears a hat with feathers. So, people in marching bands wear hats with feathers because majors in the army used to wear feathers - and miner's but that seems irrelevant.

So I went to a hockey game last night and overheard some people talking, and others trash talking two examples:

"So he's married for like 6 months and he wakes up one day with this girl in his bed and he looks at her and goes, who the f*** are you!? Anyway he got divorced.

"Hey Furlov (name of hockey player), nice name!"

I don't know what to make of the first, I just thought it was amusing so I added it, but the second got me thinking. Nice name? Really? Is that even an insult? Would hearing this bother you? I mean outside of like elementary school would anyone use this as a putdown? SoI decided to dedicate today's entry to putdowns that need to be, for lack of a better word, put down.

1 - Your face! - I am considering a possible exception in instances when the person to whom "your face" is being addressed, the 'facee' if you will, is exceptionally ugly or has some sort of message written on his or her forehead. For example is the person is exceptionally ugly and has "what's wrong with me?" written on their face you can point and go "YOUR FACE!"

2 - That's what she said - Hasn't been funny since seventh grade, rarely makes any sense and is often followed by the even more annoying "Ooooooh, busted!" It's time has come and gone. That's what she said! Oooooh Busted!

3 - Your mama jokes - Anytime you become associated with Wilmer Valderama(he had a show on MTV called Yo' Mama!) your time in the spotlight is over. Also since she was so dumb she failed her blood test and was so fat she sat around the house more times than I care to recall, I'm banning any version of these jokes regardless of the subject noun.

4 - Takes one to know one - This isnt even an effective retort, as it grants the premise of the original insulter. It's essentially saying, "I'm an STD ridden man whore? Well so are you!

5 - Oh yea? well you're fat! - Just kiding! That one is TOTALLY still cool.

YEA, WHAT HE SAID!

2008-02-05T10:20:00.000-05:00

Well folks it would seems the 'ripping me off' bandwagon is a-truckin'. As you can see at FireJoeMorgan.com, I am the seed from which other ideas sprout, only by seed I mean; I come up with original ideas, and by sprout I mean; they rip off my material. So today's honorary 'Thing That Bothers Me' is:

Plagarism

Here is my take on the use of 'gate' added onto every scandal from January 22, 2008

#5 - People who add '-gate' as a suffix any time there's a political scandal - I may only be 25 (Shut up! I feel 25. Except in the mornings, then I feel like 35 ,or after 10pm, or after a workout, or when I think about working out, OK so I'm 27, happy?), but I think I'm educated enough to know that Watergate was a pretty big deal for this country and for the newspaper/journalism business itself. That being said, don't you think it's time to let it go? Forget for a moment that it doesn't actually even make any sense ("Monica-gate?" "Hanging Chad-gate"), it's just so uninventive, it's like hiring girls in bikini's to sell cars. Wait, no, that's genius, never mind, bad example. It's like comparing every mean or authoritarian personality to Hitler, oh wait we do that too? I give up, go ahead and use it, in fact, you can call this, Blog-gate. Two g's.

and here is FireJoeMorgan.com ripping me off today
http://www.firejoemorgan.com/2008/02/lets-clog-those-bases-people.html

Once again, allow me to congratulate the New Jersey Somethings on their richly deserved victory yesterday. For the record, I am disappointed but not upset. When one's teams have been on a run like my teams have since '02, it's dumb to complain. And the Pats losing yesterday will ultimately be about maybe 20% more irritating then them winning, and thus forcing me to listen to people say that their season wasn't legitimate because of SpyGate.

(For the record, you can't just add "Gate" to something to indicate "scandal." The hotel, as we all know, was the Watergate. It wasn't like there was a like Nixonian/"Chinatown" water scandal, and someone said, "Hey -- 'gate' is the LME root for 'cover-up.' Let's call it Water-gate.")

I've highlighted the relevant parts in case you're lazy.

Today is also, for those who don't work near Broadway, the NY Giants championship parade and Super Tuesday or primary day (for those of you who don't think the notion of voting is worthy of an adjectice like 'super') in twenty-some odd states, which means paper shredders in NYC will be putting in overtime. Unlike yours truly who will try an avoid work entirely. (Note to my boss: I'm kidding?) I'm sure there's more I have to say about this, but at the moment it's kind of hard to think with the drum band outside my window. So I'll be brief.

I'm a Giants' (I'm having trouble placing that apostrophe ) fan, a big one, as evidenced by yesterday's post congratulating myself for such, but I have to say I don't quite understand parades. Attending a game I get, you're there, you're in the moment, you see whats happening and rise and fall with the players on the field. With parades 100,000 people line streets 50 -100 deep, unable to see who or what they're cheering and even if they could, much like a NASCAR race (also dumb) it's gone 10 minutes later. And they LOVE it. But all that aside what really confuses me is that at parades people will scream and yell and get excited to see things they wouldn't watch on TV if you paid them. Seriously, how many people watch marching bands during the year? How much would I have to pay you to sit through two hours of nothing but marching bands and people waving from cars? Wow! that much? Well, I think you're all a bunch of greedy jerks personally, but thank you for making my point.

I think it's fitting that the parade is the same day as NY's primary because I have to think that the same people who attend parades and cheer for the feather hat wearing, marching bands are the same people who attend those post primary speeches given by political candidates. I mean I can sorta get it if you're candidate won (YAY! the person with whom I share views about immigration reform and deficit spending, but differ on with regard to universal healthcare and bipartisan collaboration won 21 delegates and is now 1/265 of the way towards being my party's nominee for the election to be held six months from now, WOOOOO!), but dude how do the losers get that many people in a room cheering about coming in third? I think the issue is that we, as Americans are addicted to cheering. We will, if given the chance, cheer for the sun to rise in the morning, for lunch to come in the afternoon and streetlights to come on at night. We also, myself included, like adding the word 'suck' to the end of our chants. What I'm saying I guess is we're a simple minded people but gosh darn it, we have spunk.

Russia Sucks! Woooooo!

Tomorrow: Why people in bands wear hats with feathers on them.

PLEASE, NO MORE AUTOGRAPHS

2008-02-04T10:54:00.000-05:00

I'd like to begin by taking a moment to congratulate myself on being a fan of the New York Giants. It was a long, hard season, but I fought my way through the adversity. I overcame half a season of football in standard definition, long commercial breaks and even remote control malfunctions that caused me to change the channel MANUALLY! I don't know how I did it, nor, to be honest did I think I could, but I did, and now the Giants are champions.

I will admit this victory did not come easy. Even during this very last game I had to overcome a sore throat, acid reflux and the cruel temptation of winning $200 should the Giants not score on their final possession. Yet, just as Abraham in his quest to follow God's command to sacrifice his son, I too triumphed over these tests of faith, will and determination. I sit before you (metaphorically speaking) fully and wholly satisfied by the result. I didn't do it for glory, for immortality or because my son was thirty six years old and still living at home. I didn't do it to for the money (though if there are those out there who feel compelled to compensate me for last night's performance, I will be accepting gratuities), or for the repeated shots of cheerleaders (though seriously, whoever invented cheerleaders, dude, I owe you one), to be honest I can't even tell you why I did it. All I know is this, I cannot be bothered by anything today.

Update: Things, apparently, still bother me.

Sadly, if entirely unsurprisingly, the news was not good throughout the world. In Israel today, a suicide bomber killed two people and injured eleven more. According to the NY Times there were two bombers, but, in a display that epitomizes how it is a billion Arabs have failed to destroy Israel, the second bomber was standing too close to the explosion and was injured. An alert Israeli police officer saw the injured murderer reaching for his bomb and in a display of quick thinking and skill that boggles my mind somehow managed to kill him before the menace could blow himself up. That's how I would put it at least. Officer Moor, however, is a much better writer than I and so I give you his own words.

“His hand was twitching. He raised it again. So I shot four bullets into his head and neutralized him.”

Isn't there just something savagely beautiful about the understatement?

In a less serious vein I am also bothered by Ryan Seacrest. How a man who uses more feminine products than a menstral call girl can be chosen to host the Super Bowl the SUPER BOWL; the most manly event in the universe after the World's Strongest Man Competition (I mean those guys hurl beer kegs 20 feet in the air and pull trucks with their earlobes, so really I don't think it'd be a good idea to tell them they're not manly), is beyond my comprehension. I mean that decison was so dumb I couldn't find any redeeming value it with an electron microscope attached to the Hubble telescope.

In fact, I kind of wish I could get he and Officer Moor in a room together. What? I'm just saying, accidents happen. Besides, what's a little neutralization between police officer and ubiquitious, unctuous, untalented talent show host? At the very least I hope this generation's Star Search host will be redcued to handing out those jumbo sized Pulisher's Clearinghouse checks for a living in the near future.

THE ANTI-WICKED WITCH

2008-02-01T09:22:00.000-05:00

So I don't have much time today, but before I leave you for the weekend I wanted to talk about something that's perplexed me for a while. In case you are unaware, it is a rainy day here in New York, the only city that matters. With that rain, however, comes more than soggy shoes and clingy T-shirts, with it come the Umbrella people. Perhaps you are familiar with them? They appear out of the ether every time it rains, sprouted into existence by precipitation. You can identify them by the 300 umbrellas they have for sale beside them. How do they transport their umbrealls to our streets from the underworld in which they reside? What do these people do with them when its sunny? Do they have other jobs that don't involve others getting soaked? How do these parasites of human suffering survive when sky's are clear? How do they always know when it's going to rain? How can street merchants afford Doppler radar? These are all questions which i think need to be answered.

Any guesses?

Personally I think they're descendant's from Oz. The offspring of a long-forgotten race who, through self-preservation, genetic mutation and natural selection learned to thrive in wetness to protect themsleves from their natural enemy, the Wicked Witch of the West, she of melting in water. But it's just a theory.

FAVA BEANS

2008-01-31T12:13:00.000-05:00

I am not going to lie to you friends, I am not in a good mood. I had CLE's for 3 hours again last night (thankfully for the last time this year), and then had court this morning at 9am. More upsetting, however, were the results of the psychological profile that I took during last night's CLE's. I am not ashamed to say they were staggering, shocking, and utterly devastating. It would seem I, your trusted voice of compassion, your oracle of sympathy and sensitivity, the man who makes you all want to be better, kinder people, lack what are generally referred to as, "feelings." I know! I said the same thing. How could this be so? Is it possible the woman giving the class, a professional who by her own resume (handed out with the course packet) is an accomplished studio jeweler could be wrong? Nah!

Top Five Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - Stupid questions on a psychological profile - The following isn't an insightful question:
Which is truer of you:
a) I am bighearted
b) I am logical

Having this question repeated 26 times is even less insightful. I'm not a psychologist (though according to my score I may be psychopathic), but I'm reasonably certain a profile should consist of more than, circle "a" if youre sensitive. I have a friend who once tried to prove he was 6 feet tall by showing me his driver's license. When I asked him if he was measured before they put 'height:6' on his license, his response was; "No, they asked me how tall I was and I told them." That's pretty much the value of this test. It tells you what you think of yourself. If you're a pygmy with lifts and think you're six feet tall, that's what it will say. If you have a blog dedicated to highlighting the flaws, faults and failings of those who don't measure up, it will tell you you're an unfeeling, superior, narcissist. Hmm maybe these test ARE accurate.

#4 - People who think putting 'jewelry salesperson' on their career counselor resume is a good idea - I'm too tired to point out how dumb this is, you all see it right? I mean how would the conversation go, "Hi ,I'll be your career counselor I'm sorry to hear you got fired after being outed as a psychopath, but can I interest you in a broach?"

#3 - Dumb demonstrations - I know I'm harping on this CLE thing a bit, but hear me out. The first exercise we were asked to do was to sign our name five times. The second exercise we were asked to do was to sign our name five times with our off (in this case, my left) hand. Then, after we were done scrawling our names illegibly, she asked this deep and insightful question insightful question; "What did you learn?" You know what I learned? I learned I'm righthanded dumbo!

#2 - Forty year olds starting a new career - Sorry, I don't mean to discriminate (anyone believe that, no?) but you guys really need to get out of the way. For some reason the older someone is the more they feel the need to contribute at lectures. They raise their hands, bob their heads and laugh at unfunny jokes. If I had to narrow it down (I actually don't have to guess at all, I don't have an editor or anything, I'm just going to anyway), I'd say the cutoff is somewhere around the age where you find yourself lecturing store clerks about proper service. So pretty much anyone who's ever used the expressions, "when I was your age if I did that..." or "In my day we took care of the customer" should just accept their fate.

#1 - Returning stuff - I'm not what you'd call a shopper, but if there is a single process more convoluted and uneccessarily painful than returning something to a store, I'd like you to call Tourqemada, I think he's in the market for some new ideas.
The following is a dramatization (I feel like I'm in an E! True Hollywood Story) of my experience with returning a wallet.

"Hi I'd like to return this."
"Do you have a receipt?"
"Yes."
"Ok well just go to sub-basement three, open the dungeon doors and follow the screaming."

So I go to sub-basement three and the line is something like sixteen people long. Inevitably, half of these people lack receipts, another two or three of these people aren't actually returning items and keep repeating when they get to the front of the line, "but can't you just ring me up here, I've been on line forever." (These by the way are the same people who can't tell the difference between the ticket buying line and the ticket holding line at the movies). Finally I get to the front and the woman asks me,

"Would you like a credit or a refund?"
"Refund, please"
"I'm sorry we only refund purchases within 30 days of the purchase." (Oh yeah I also hate returning crap cuz it takes me forever to get around to).
"Well then I don't really understand why you asked me which I'd like, that sort of implies the choice is mine. Why even ask me otherwise? Are you filling out some sort of survey as to whether people prefer store credits over money? Cuz if you are, I can save you some time."
"Do you still want to return the item sir?"
"Yes, I'd still like to return it. Can I get a store credit then?"
"One second sir, I have to find the postage stamp sized piece of paper we print store credits on. Here it is. Please remember not to lose this (holding up credit with a tweezer) because there will be no other record of this credit and if you do, wait where'd it go? (grabs magnifying glass) Oh! there it is, as I was saying if you lose it we will keep your money. Have a nice day!

THE HIERARCHY OF FRUIT

2008-01-29T21:47:00.001-05:00

I write this from the heavenly comfort of my cotton pajamas, nestled deep under the covers of my pillow top bed. I say this because when you read this tomorrow (what you would call 'today'), you will be hard at work, wearing freshly starched and pressed clothes, the chill of the morning air still lingering in your body, your mind still fresh with the memories of sleep and the thought of me being all snuggled up and comfy in bed will make you sad. In a related news bulletin, I am also quite mean.

I really hope someone enjoyed that as much as I do.

Anyway I've been thinking about it and it seems like there aren't enough people in the world who aren't brain addled. I say this because every so often after reading an article (news, sports, television, movies, yeah that's pretty much all I read about) online, I'll click on the little comments link and I am astounded at the idiocy being spouted. There seems to be no interest in grammar, spelling or syntax and even less interest in a comprehensible point. It's enough to lead one to wonder if only idiots use the Internet. Then again, perhaps you don't quite understand what I'm talking about, seeing as you, my readers, are apparently unaware of the comments link and the ability to post fawning and flattering remarks about an author, of a piece, such as, shall we say, this one.

I now return to the third installment of the recurring series:

Aphorisms that don't make any sense

- When in Rome - Continuing on America's fascination with all things Roman (see Rome wasn't built in a day) we apparently ascribe bowing to convention to being somehow Romanic. Why the Romans? Good question , it's actually based on first century joke, stop me if you've heard it before. An Acadian a Phoenician and a Sumerian walk into this place called Rome Bar and Grill (Applebees was full). The bartender asks them what they'll have to drink and the Phoenician replies with whatever the word in Phoenician is for beer (it's a dead language people, how much research do you think I'm doing for this joke?) and the bartender not recognizing the word gives him some cheap slop, the same holds true for the Acadian. Finally it's the Sumerian's turn he looks around at the assembled mass of people in Rome Bar and Grill all drinking cold frothy beer and says I'll have what they're having and thus was born the expression, when in Rome. Wow, I made you read a lot for a crappy punchline. Don't worry it gets better.

- I'm feeling blue - How many people have a favorite color? Good, now how many of you answered blue? See? Blue is a very popular color, people like it, it makes them happy. Who chooses a favorite color that depresses them? Even goths who wear black, wear black because it makes them happy, just don't tell them that, you'll unhinge their whole view of reality. And don't tell me it's because of the blues, the same question would still apply. My theory is someone was about to say I'm feeling black, got to 'I'm feeling bl--' looked around at the racially diverse crowd an just changed it to blue to save his cracker butt.

- Apple of my eye - I'm not even going to discuss anatomy right now because I've already done way too much research on Phoenicians and Sumerians to go back to Wikipedia again (I don't know if you noticed this but I totally just winged it on the Acadians), but I'm reasonable certain there is no part of the eye that resembles a fruit, other than perhaps a grape. So why apple? In the hierarchy of fruit I've gotta think apple is low down on the list way down near peasant or serf at best a knight, while mangoes, papayas, peaches, plums and nectarines are the Lords, Earls, Dukes, Barons and Counts of the fruit family. In fact as it stands the expression actually seems derogatory, 'you're the at best sixth most desirable fruit of my eye. From now on the proper way to say it, assuming you want to pay a compliment will be; 'You are the mango of my eye.' See, I told you it would get better.

- Cute as a button - Things that are cuter than buttons: Puppies, bunnies, the chubby girl from Little Miss Sunshine, penguins, my niece and nephew, that new Kia commercial where everyone forgets which side of the car their gas tank is on and, in my less than humble opinion, snaps. Yes that's right I find snaps cuter than buttons! Why should my personal aesthetics be subsumed to those of an aphorism? I also think toggles are cuter than buttons so by my count even when you narrow the focus to things that fasten clothes, buttons still come in third. Buttons are the apples of the clothes fastening world.

- The whole shebang - Much like our earlier discussion of The whole nine yards, this expression fails to make sense without any adjectives as to percentages. Seriously, what the hell is a shebang? It sorta sounds like a really crappy Ricky Martin song, but I don't think we can blame him for anything other than, frosted tips, Enrique Iglesias and people who say 'I'm just livin' La vida Loca.' I think the true measure of a word is, if you take it out of the context in which it's used, does it still make sense? In this case, if you said yeah I went to the store but I could only get three-fifths of a shebang, people would look at you funny. Shebang, not a word.

CALLING OUT AROUND THE WORLD

2008-01-28T13:55:00.000-05:00

Welcome back to the grind readers. I know some of you probably had to work Sunday, and I laugh at you heartily. Then again, I'm pretty sure your 401(k) just gave mine an inferiority complex, so I think we're even.

I know some of you out there look at Monday as the ultimate annoyance, the eggshell in your omelette, the 'but' in a compliment, the tax in your income, but I assure you, after reading this, it will only be one of a plethora of ills you now find with the world. Think of it as me disemboweling you to make your finger stop hurting, only your finger will continue to hurt.

Top Five Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - People who point out my spelling mistakes - Contrary to what you all seem to think this is is not appreciated. If I make a spelling mistake it is different from when one of you do it; it is the offspring of accident not not the product of improficiency. In short, stop it, you big bully.

#4 - Exit 26 A-Q - Ever follow directions without having an exact mileage estimate and find yourself counting down the exits till your destination? Ever experience the relief of thinking you're only two exits away and then watch with horror as exit 26 became exit 26a, 26, b 26, c 26, d and the memory of your once incipient arrival lingered as nothing more than a synaptic taunt? No? Oh well, at least I used incipient in a sentence.

#3 - Quick Dry White Out - Liar! Deceiver! Dissembler! I shall make you pay for your eponymous deceit! How many tips of how many pens have been sacrificed in the well of your false name? How many ballpoints, rolling tip and fountains must pass from utility to uselessness before this scourge is removed from out midst? Quick drying white out, I'm calling you out!

Authors Note: In case that was a bit confusing, my white out takes forever to dry and keeps getting all over my pens.

#2 - Temperature v. Wind Chill Factor - Things I care less about than scientifically objective, purported temperature, relative to the subjective, wind chill included, actual temperature: Soccer, the doorman's answer to "what's up?", your blog, whether the Oscar's will have writers and my clients. I understand that a thermometer wont display wind chill, but you know what? I'm not a thermometer. When I check the weather I want to know how cold I will be, not how cold I would be if I were a thermometer. Al Roker, I'm calling you out.

#1 - Dumb people with superiority complexes - Some things are just too upsetting to joke about. How people who needed to have their tongue size checked just to assure employers that they weren't part of a mentally disabled placement program can have egos is beyond me. How those egos are as big as mine, makes think I need to reassess admitting I'm not humble.

Till tomorrow, GO GIANTS!

EXCUSES, EXCUSES

2008-01-25T12:17:00.000-05:00

Sorry folks about missing yesterday guys, but there were mitigating circumstances, namely the hunger strike I was apparently put on by the restaurant I ordered lunch from. Anyway I'm going to be brief today so here's the update rundown

- CLE's - Things that put people to sleep and thus make poor topics for lectures - If I was compiling such a list I'd have to think Ethics and Grammar would be in the top 3. Thus you can imagine my interest in my three and a half hour CLE class on legal writing ("can anyone tell me what a split infinitive is") and Ethics ("what if you think you're client who's paying you millions of dollars is a mean person?") Sadly, I wasn't able to sleep. I did, however, manage to not listen to a single word after the introductions, which is you know, good news for me but doesn't exactly make for fascinating reading. Oh, and lawyers, still not an attractive bunch

- Serving Sizes - Bought a cookie today, it's about the size of a regular Pepperidge Farm cookie only it was $2.40 and when I flipped it over, I saw that my individually wrapped cookie, that was smaller than the palm of my hand, was actually, in some sick, deranged, nutritionist's mind, TWO servings! How many times will I have to say this before the makers of snacks cower at my feet? If it's individually wrapped non-resealable wrapped snack it's a SINGLE SERVING! I'm not going to eat half and keep the other half a cookie for tomorrow.

- I don't think that means what you think it does - Penultimate, does not mean super ultimate, it means second to last, or second to the ultimate. Also pluperfect doesn't mean super perfect, it is variation on the past perfect tense, as in "Had he known he was going to follow a grammar lecture he would have been more careful about using words he actually understood."

Till next week

MIRROR, MIRROR

2008-01-22T15:02:00.001-05:00

Some readers of the blog have mentioned that I seem easily bothered, that I'm hard to please, that I look for flaws in what is otherwise, a largely functioning world. This may well be true, I may be your morning after headache, your late period, your end of month credit card statement, bringing you back from joy to sorrow with all the charm of an IRS agent, but it is my assertion, nay, it is my belief, that it is you dear readers who are in the wrong. It is you who are too forgiving, too obliging, too understanding. It is you who allow these crimes of common sense, these violations of societal values, to go unpunished; shrugging them off with the nonchalance of an empty cliche. NO MORE! Away with, to each his own, to bygones being bygones, to beauty being in the eye of the beholder. It is my solemn duty, my sworn service to you, to lift the veil, to shatter the glass, to bring light to the dark, magnanimous corners of your minds and end this plague, called generosity of spirit.

Anyway, on with the show.

Top Five Things That Bother Me (but should be bothering all of you as well) Today

#5 - People who ask for it - So I saw this girl the other day she was, let's call her husky, wearing a T-Shirt with the words "All Natural" imprinted front and center. Now I understand that body image is important and you have to feel comfortable in your own skin (more on this at #1), but by the same token it's also important to not be insane. Now I'll admit that I'm not the nicest guy in the world (I was an early favorite but didn't make it out of the South Carolina primaries, turns out calling the Virgin Mary, a 'Bloody Mary' (see the post below this one) doesn't win you very many evangelical votes), but I have to believe even someone with cough "generosity of spirit" would find himself thinking, "of course it's all natural, who would pay a doctor to look like that?"

#4 - Serving sizes - I am not a large man (there are about eight different jokes that seem fitting here, but we're going to pretend we're above that and ignore them, OK fine, but just one, it's not the size of the missile but the destructive capability of its thermonuclear warhead, hmm, sounded better in my head), but even I am starting to get annoyed by the snack food company's response to calorie awareness. These company's are hawking the low calorie content of their product only to list in teeny little letters on the reverse side that their candy bar is actually TWO servings and that eating it would double the caloric intake. Things that come individually wrapped are a single serving, what am i supposed to do fold up my candy bar and put it in my pocket for later? Am I supposed to start buying pants with specially lined pockets so i can keep chocolate from melting and pretzels from going stale? An apple's serving size is one apple a candy bar's serving size is one candy bar and a bag of chips' is one bag. Sorry this wasn't funny, I'm genuinely annoyed.

#3 - People who say they have temperature - You know who has temperature? EVERYONE! Even rocks have temperature. What they have, is a fever. They also have a distinct lack of comprehension when it comes to the meaning of the word temperature, but it's not a good idea to pick on someone with a fever, they may cough on you.

#2 - People who use notoriety and fame as synonyms - Notoriety is not a variation of noteworthy. It is the noun for the adjective notorious. So an actor does not gain notoriety for winning an Oscar, he may, however, gain notoriety for hitting someone over the head with said Oscar.

#1 - Carson Kressley's new show How to Look Good Naked - Read the title of the show again. Done? Good. Now, tell me do you think this show is about making people look good when they're naked? Of course you do! It's the name of the freaking show! Do you know what it's actually about? It's about making women who don't look good naked, feel good about being naked. This pains me on two levels, first, what happened to the good looking naked people? How is this not false advertising I know I'm a lawyer but there has to be someone out there who can tell me why I can't sue 'em. Secondly, again, I know it's important for people to feel good about themselves and their bodies, but dude, seriously, there are people who shouldn't be naked or for that matter even half naked, they shouldn't even slip into something more comfortable not only for our benefit, but for theirs too. Mostly for my benefit though.

Tomorrow: CLE's part III

AND I SHALL HAVE MY VENGENCE, IN THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT

2008-01-22T12:06:00.001-05:00

Boo! (As you can see I'm running out of new ways to start our little chats) Now that I have your attention, if not your respect, I'd like to welcome you back to work. I myself have worked on MLKJD so you'll forgive me if I'm ahead of you when it comes to midweek bitterness. That being said there are a few things I'd like to talk about today and I think, Monday off or not, even the vacationed among (or is it amongst? Is there a rule about when you use one or the other, like with 'who' and 'whom' or is it more like 'while' v. 'whilst?') you will agree that something needs to be done.

Top 5 Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - People who add '-gate' as a suffix any time there's a political scandal - I may only be 25 (Shut up! I feel 25. Except in the mornings, then I feel like 35 ,or after 10pm, or after a workout, or when I think about working out, OK so I'm 27, happy?), but I think I'm educated enough to know that Watergate was a pretty big deal for this country and for the newspaper/journalism business itself. That being said, don't you think it's time to let it go? Forget for a moment that it doesn't actually even make any sense ("Monica-gate?" "Hanging Chad-gate"), it's just so uninventive, it's like hiring girls in bikini's to sell cars. Wait, no, that's genius, never mind, bad example. It's like comparing every mean or authoritarian personality to Hitler, oh wait we do that too? I give up, go ahead and use it, in fact, you can call this, Blog-gate. Two g's.

#4 - People who are still reading 'The Da Vinci Code' - Really? are you just discovering Seinfeld too? When the movie your book is based on is already closer to a sequel than it is the second DVD release it's time to move on. You missed the boat! Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married, the Virgin Mary was actually a Bloody Mary and 'Holy F*cking Christ' is now both cathartic and accurate.

#3 - People who read over your shoulder on the Subway - You know those people who decide they don't need a newspaper in the morning, but as soon as they sit or stand next to you on the bus or subway are all of a sudden engrossed in yours? Yeah, I don't like them.

#2 - Greeting cards - How is this a multi-billion dollar a year industry? Why have we as a culture come to the point where we demand that our loved ones, friends and co-workers deliver hackneyed, unoriginal, sappy, unctuous, insincere messages written by other people on what is supposedly a special occasion? Oh, you mean you actually mean those things they write in those cards? I'm, the only one who's insincere? Well, it's still sappy unoriginal and hackneyed. What's really annoying though, is when people write stuff in the card. Was the original message you paid $3.95 for not what you meant? Why not just buy a blank card, or for that matter, if you really need to write something below the processed junk make it, "see above".

#1 - Vengeful Urinals - I don't think this will resonate much with my female audience, Hi Mom, but it needs to be addressed nonetheless. Have you ever used a urinal, put your junk away, flushed and then looked down at your pants, only to see that your once unblemished gabardine has been defiled by urinal spittle? It's like they're offended by being peed on. I'm reasonably certain if the urinal possessed the ability to talk it would say, after spraying, "How do you like it!?"

Finally I'd just like to congratulate the NY Football Giants on reaching Superbowl XXLMIIGZYB. But, before we get too carried away and start calling them heroes or role models, I'd like to bring a quote from star wide receiver Plaxico Burress to your attention.

When asked about his new found maturity on the field this year Burress responded by saying:

"I finally realized I'm human."

Only took him 30 years folks.

HUN, IS IT A MARK TWAIN OR A SAMUEL CLEMENS?

2008-01-20T15:57:00.000-05:00

OK, so I was watching 'Antiques Roadshow' on PBS (I will pause here to give you a moment to get your mind around that, ready? Good). Anyway, I mention this because I'm reasonably certain that in the course of enhancing my expertise on mid-nineteenth century Japanese porcelain, I came face to screen with the dumbest couple on Earth.

If you're not familiar with the show, the general concept is that a group of antique experts travel from city to city, set up in a convention center and invite people to come bring the crap that's been laying in their attic and ask these experts for a price estimate on said crap. Well this chromosomally challenged couple appears on the show with what they describe as a "First edition of, To Kill A Mockingbird." I was somewhat confused by their initial assertion, as the dustjacket seemed to be perfectly preserved and unusually sharp and bright for something printed nearly 50 years ago; before the advent of laser printers. Then she flipped the book over and, lo and behold, it had a bar code on the back. Let's think for a moment here folks, bar codes exist to be scanned by computers, and these two are of the opinion that their's is a first edition printing!

The really scary part of this story, aside from the fact that a desert scene, Japanese Nippon Porcelain vase, now goes for three grand, is that these are two attractive people in their early to mid-twenties; right in the baby-making wheelhouse. If these two procreate it's time for humanity to just pull up tent stakes and make room for the Gila Monsters (I hear they're smart).

In keeping with this topic (stupid people, not Nippon porcelain, we can discuss that in the comments section), I thought I'd share a phone conversation I had with someone at the customer service branch of U.S. Airways. As some of you may know I was supposed to go on vacation last week. Sadly, my grandmother passed away the night before my flight to Lake Tahoe and I was unable to fly. My friends of course consoled me with the knowledge that I would at least be able to get my money back for the flight owing to my cancellation being the result of a death in the family. Such is a transcript of the conversation I had in pursuit of said refund:

Me: Hi, yes I'd like to get a refund for the flight I missed. Sadly there was a death in my family and I was unable to go on vacation.

Indian Woman Unsuccessfully Pretending to be an American: OK sir, can I have your flight confirmation number?

Me: Reciting an unmemorable medley of letters and number

Indian Woman Unsuccessfully Pretending to be an American: OK I'm showing a zero balance on this flight.

Me: What's that mean

IWUPTBAA: Well sir the computer is showing you've missed the flight

Me: Yes, that's because today's Wednesday and the flight was last Saturday night. I couldn't make the flight because my grandmother died, remember?

IWUPTBAA: Well sir what I can do for you is restore the value of your ticket to its initial $128

Me (Naively): Thank you.

IWUPTBAA: Of course there will be a $100 reissuing fee if you do reschedule

Me (confused): What? Wait if i want to use the $128 ticket you just reinstated, I have to pay a $100 fee? Isn't that just a $28 refund?

IWUPTBAA (that's really starting to get annoying to type): Well sir, there will be a fee as per company policy for rescheduling a canceled ticket.

Me (frustrated): But we just went through this I didn't cancel the ticket my grandmother died!

IWUPTBAA: I'm very sorry sir but we don't have a bereavement policy

Me (wondering if an entire generation of people are under the opinion that airlines have a bereavement policy because of a Seinfeld episode): You don't?

IWUTBAAA: No sir, I mean if you died we'd refund your ticket, but not for relatives.

Me: If I died!? you mean if I called up from the after life and asked you to refund my ticket you'd do so? What if I died on one of your flights, would I get a full refund or would it be pro rata, based on how close we got to the intended destination before plunging into to sea and exploding into thousands of fiery bits?

IWUPTBAA (Completely ignoring my vivid imagery): I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help sir, but next time please call in advance of your flight.

Me: Well I certainly hope my grandmother won't die again.

IWUPTBAA: Yes sir, I do as well hope this does not happen.

Me: !@#$%^&*

BUT I DONT WANNA BE A PIRATE

2008-01-17T17:40:00.000-05:00

Hello again readers,
Much like the intrepid reporters of yesteryear, who embedded themselves in deadly conflicts to provide the American public with a true and honest depiction of the perils being faced by enlisted men and women, I come to you today with news from the front, the CLE (continuing Legal Education) front that is. (Yes, I know i just ended a sentence with "is" but it's late and I don't feel like rewording).

I am sad to say friends, all is not well.

If you've read part one of this four part series on CLE's you're aware of the fact that many lawyers out there think, "Does anyone have any questions?" is actually a prompt for people to ask questions, rather than a subtle indication that the lecture is over. Well, it appears, shocking as it may seem, I've underestimated the disease afflicting these question asker's. Yesterday, not only were there questions asked, arguments were posed. Yes that's right readers, someone actually spent time trying to prove a lecturer wrong. There is, I grant, some benefit to asking questions of or challenging the assertion of a professor who is responsible for grading you (though in my personal experience they don't take kindly to being shown up), but when it's a talk on small firm economics being given by a geriatric, a twenty-seven year old should know better.

Speaking of knowing better, you'd think a bar association would know better than to hire a lecturer with a ponytail. Men shouldn't have ponytails. This is an ironclad rule. However, there are forgivable, if inexcusable exceptions, for example lawyers for a punk rock band, a mid-change transvestite (or is it transgender?) horse enthusiasts even. A seventy something year old Jewish lawyer from NY with a head full or gray hair, not on the list.

This isn't exactly a scientific observation but based on law school, my bar review classes, and the past two CLE classes I attended, consisting, almost exclusively, of lawyers between the ages of 25-30, I am forced to conclude that lawyers are not an attractive group. I know this seems somewhat counter intuitive after years of of TV shows about lawyers starring pretty people. But there's just now way around it, the proof is irrefutable (OK that part's not true), I am sad to say readers, this seems to be one of those rare occasions where TV just flat out lied to us.

Gay professors make more interesting lecturers. I'm not making any judgments about sexuality (the Bible does that for me, sodomites!), but the fact remains they seem more eager to please, or maybe they're just bottoms.

You have to show up extra early to get a seat in the back. I find this paradoxical in that, generally speaking, you'd think that the people who show up early would be the ones interested in hearing the lecture and not sitting in the back playing Su-Doku and hangman. Anyone have any theories?

RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU'RE A MORON

2008-01-10T09:25:00.000-05:00

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day (True) readers,

I apologize for the lag between posts but there was a death in my family and respect forestalled me from sharing my curmudgeonliness. I thank you in advance for your condolences and reply to them with a tilted head, bobbing ever so slightly, as I say, "Thank you, yeah, I'm OK, she was 89 she had a good, long life." With that awkward moment out of the way we can now focus on the matter at hand. We don't have a matter at hand, you say? Fair point. How about I tell you about my CLE class instead? Wonderful.

Continuing Legal Education (CLE's) classes, are a strange place. It's not like law school or college where everyone taking the class wants to be there or at the very least chose to be there. Instead, what you have is a motley crew of assorted lawyers, the overachievers, the underachievers, the "Where am I's" and the "When can I get out of here's. " As one might expect in a lecture series that starts at 5:30pm, after a full day of work, the back rows were first to fill up. Your Royal Curmudgeonliness, not accustomed to having to having to arrive on time to functions, let alone early (the very word spoils in my mouth), was forced to sit in the front row. To a lesser man such a tragedy would have resulted in three and a half hours of, dare I say it, paying attention. Fear not, however, readers, I would never betray you like that. Napping and conversing being impossible, I simply resorted to note passing with a colleague, the following were my observations.

- Einstein's early work in proving that time can pass at different speeds for different people given the proper circumstances was, in my opinion inspired by attending a CLE class. I myself, well aware of the theory of relativity, was shocked to discover that when I walked out of the class it was still the same day. I don't think it would be an unfair comparison to equate CLE's importance to the theory of relativity, with Newton's apple.

- Apparently some people out there still don't realize "Are there any questions?" is actually code for "If no one is stupid enough to ask a question we can all leave 15 minutes early." This is somewhat troublesome as there are attorney's people who've been in class for around 22 years. If you haven't figured this out in 22 years, the human race is much worse off than I thought. Then again I think this would be a great way to cut down interview times. Just ask the prospective employee, when you hear the words, "Are there any questions?" do you raise your hand or not?

- "Oh, I know someone from your law school," is apparently viewed as an acceptable conversation starter. This is wrong, if the following: lack of eye contact, one word answers and distracted looking around, are not clear enough signs that I have no interest in conversation, the human race is... well you get the point. What's even more saddening is that the culprits weren't even the hand raisers. At least if it was them you could just say a a group they're incapable of reading between the lines. Instead, we've doubled our idiot population.

- Old people bob their heads a lot. Have you ever noticed this? Ever have a senior citizen or even someone over 50 in your class? Look at their head while the professor lectures, they're constantly bobbing. Maybe old people have lost the rebel in them and will just agree to anything or maybe they're so senile they feel like if they make a show of agreeing no one will know they haven't understood a word anyone's said since the Reagen administration.

(Rejected hypothetical reasons for senior citizen head bobbing deemed too insensitive for inclusion: Weak neck muscles, its actually wobbling, not bobbing; Being out of a rocking chair is a traumatic experience, the head bobbing is a soothing placebo)

- People lose all sense of what is funny in CLE's. I'm convinced that these volunteer professors volunteer for the express purpose of having people laugh at their disturbingly unfunny jokes. I'd reproduce some examples here but I didn't even know they were jokes till after I heard the laughing. The only amusing thing about this is that these guys must wonder why people don't think they're funny outside of CLE's. I can only hope they try an amateur stand up routine.

More to come after Wednesday's class.

TWO BY TWO

2008-01-09T09:15:00.000-05:00

The gloom is back dear readers. The sun has yet to show itself; dark, impenetrable, gunmetal gray clouds are dripping with triumph and warmth is slowly leaking away from the day like air from a life raft. Yes, it's fair to say, the gloom is most certainly back.

Days like these, cold, windy, wet mornings, filled with the promise of vengeance for the sins we committed taking pleasure in yesterday's temperance; for wishing winter would continue to betray itself, should be spent in bed, hiding from its wrath. Alas, such is not possible for me today. Instead I made my way to work and find myself sitting here in my office, venting my frustrations impotently. Also I have a three and and half hour CLE (continuing legal education) class tonight and I really, really don't wanna go.

Accordingly:

Top 5 Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - CLE Classes - I thought I was done with classes, finished with homework, free of three and a half hour lectures on subjects too boring even for a six-part Ken Burns documentary on PBS. I remember my last class in law school with a surprising lack of clarity, I do, however, remember the dance I did when it was over, it would seem my moves were in vain. I am still waiting to hear back from 'Dancing with the Stars' however, so all hope isn't lost.

#4 - Scissors and Pants - How is it that these items only exist in pairs? Is there even a singular form of the word? And if there is, what the hell is a scissor? Is it one half of a pair of scissors? Because that doesn't seem like a specialized item so much as it does a knife. I get that it's two pieces but are we really, as a language, so unevolved that any time a object has multiple parts it needs to be referred to in the plural? And what about pants? Is a pant just one leg covering? Who would even invent a pant? OK, half a scissor has some use I guess but who needs only one leg of a pair of pants? Were pants invents by cheap Pirates looking to save money by not wasting fabric on their peg leg?

#3 - Paper Cuts - I'm not sure which is more annoying, the pain from having your finger sliced open, or the fact that it was done by a freaking sheet of paper. How can paper even cut skin? paper is weak, it covers rock, but that's about it. What's really amazing though, is that paper cuts are pretty much the most painful type of cut, it's almost like paper is showing off, reminding you that though it may look weak, it can still peel you open like a banana.

#2 - Dreams about waking up - Have you ever had one of those dreams where you wake up late and starts rushing to get ready, then you actually wake up and even though you woke up on time you still have that anxious feeling from the dream hovering over you like a reproachful ghost? No? Well I did. I dreamt I woke up and when I woke up for real it felt twice as bad, like I'd had to suffer through the whole ordeal again. I feel like I should get extra credit for being at the office by nine.

#1 - Channels that have yet to go HD - Do you know what it's like having an HDTV? Its like having a an uber accountant do a McDonald's counter guy's taxes. She may have tremendous abilities, but there's only so much you can do with a burger flippers W-2's (note: I don't actually know what a W-2 is, but I've heard the word used in reference to taxes). You know what they have in HD? Animals, sports, and CNN. I have 120 movie channels in my cable package and 6 are in HD. SIX! I haven't seen this much talent wasted since Ashlee Simpson stopped singing. What? she hasn't stopped singing? Why? She gets I was being ironic right? I'm not encouraging her am I? Ah what the hell...

#1a - Ashlee Simpson's singing - 'Nuff said.

SUNNY DAYS

2008-01-08T09:29:00.000-05:00

Morning all,

It is beautiful here in NY, a warm sunny 68 degree January day. The kind of day that makes you wonder why politicians are against global warming; the kind of day makes you contemplate trading in your hybrid for a Hummer; the kind of day that makes it hard for even misanthropes like me to find flaw with the world. I suppose I could still try, after all, I made use of public transportation this morning and Baseball's opening day is neigh three months away, but it wouldn't be genuine, and I'm not going to try and sate you, dear readers, with synthetic agitation. Do not fear, however, just because I am in a good mood doesn't mean I will deprive you of your pass time. I remain your friend in your daily quest to fritter away the hours of this coil known as the work day. To that end here is today's list.

Actually, a brief aside. The inspiration for this list was a conversation I had with a friend about ten years ago, in which I spoke of the need for man to invent a car that could park itself. Recent commercials by Lexus involving, a car parking itself between two pyramids of champagne flutes (let that serve as a lesson to all of you who think you own a parking spot just because you put up champagne flute pyramids), have made it clear that what was once just a crazy dream in my head, has become reality. It's also been made clear to me, mostly by the ATM flipping me off after I attempted a withdrawal, that I didn't make any money off this Jules Verne-esque insight into the future. Keeping that in mind I am now going to document for you and my future patent and copyright attorneys, my:

Things Someone Needs to Make

#10 - The Auto-pilot car - For those of us who can't afford chauffeurs hate public transportation but still want to bill hours on the drive in to work.

#9 - The psychic dictation system - You know how sometimes you have an idea but you can't explain it, the psychic dictation system will convert your unorganized thoughts into words. So the next time you find yourself going "oooh oooh, it's like that ummm, you know..." we'll actually know.

#8 - The blackball radio system - Ever take a road trip with a bunch of people one of whom had awful musical taste? With the blackball radio system you can forestall his attempts to control the radio simply by pushing the blackball button. Disco music ruining your vacation? Not with the blackball radio system.

#7 - The automatic judging system - People not appreciate your joke? Friend think he's funnier than he is? Boss giving you bad advice? Simply call the automatic judging system and let them rule for you. Its like binding arbitration without having to pay lawyers, damn me and my inventions.

#6 - Scratch n Sniff TV - Yes I watch cooking shows, get over it! Cooking is cool. Anyway, if we can project moving images of people thousands of miles away into our homes, can't we also get the smell in there, how am I supposed to know if the food is good without being able to smell it?

#5 - The Make Your Own Movie Studio - Your favorite show get cancelled? A classic movie get no love from the stuffed shirts? Want to see a sequel? With the make your own movie studio software you can find people who agree with you pool your money and finance your own movie, with actual Hollywood stars.

#4 - The Job Exchange Program - Say you find yourself torn, you want to pursue a career in motor cross, but can't quite give up your dreams of being a mime. With the Job exchange program, you simply sign up for your dual career interests and if there is a match you and your doppelganger can swap careers for a year.

#3 The Let's Go To The Videotape (HD-dvd) Conversation Recorder - I promise I'll take out the garbage when the game is over; If you buy me these shoes I'll never ask for anything else ever again; I, Jennifer Love Hewitt, promise never to get fat and disappoint my fans who supported me despite my overly pointy chin. Wish you'd been smart enough to get these promises on tape? Wish no more, with the LGTTVCR all your conversations will be recorded via a microchip inserted into your inner ear so when some Hollywood actress, who shall go unnamed ,decides to store food in her saddlebags for hibernation, you'll have the goods.

#2 - PMS early warning system - it's like the missile defense shield, only way more important

#1 - The Conversation Remote Control - Imagine having the power to mute your wife, or change the topic of conversation with a simple press of the channel up button. The CRC promises both entertainment and peace. I suppose it could work on husbands as well but well, is it really necessary?

SPELT

2008-01-04T09:03:00.000-05:00

Good (enter part of day at time you're reading this) readers,

I've been back at this blogging for a while now and it's occurred to me that I have yet to give what it is you really want. So, since I can't give you each Keira Knightley, she is mine after all, it would be rude to share, I'll provide you with the return of a classic instead.

Top 5 Things That Bother Me Today

#5 - T9 - Generally speaking, I find 'smart' phones silly and annoying. However, when it comes to text messaging, my phone's lack a a Qwerty keyboard leaves me reliant on T9, a program which purpotedly deduces what word it is I meant when I hit the numbers on my keypad. My problem is that T9 is is, to put it delicately F***ing stupid. The idea, as far as I can gather is for it to make work combinations from the numbers and put the most popular word choice on the screen. I don't know if my phone is from Texas or not but somehow, to it, 227 seems more likely to be 'BBQ' than 'car' 273 more likely to be 'apd,' which isnt even a WORD, than 'are.' 63 is apparently 'of' when clearly my phone should know it is the most important word I know 'me.' So I have a message for my phone, "3825 yourself" and no, I don't mean "duck."

#4 - The Restaurant at the Holocaust Museum in downtown Manhattan - OK I get it, people come to the museum,they spend the day there contemplating how awful man can be, and despite the horrors they are exposed to they can't help being hungry, so you serve food, fine, I can understand that, my question is how do you do takeout and delivery!? How do you even answer the phone? "Holocaust museum, can I take your order?"

#3 - Power Cords - How is it that we don't have a universal power cord yet? I think I have about thirty-five power cords and adapters stashed throughout my home. I don't know what they power or adapt, but I'm afraid to throw them out nonetheless, on the off chance I'll discover what it is they go with. This, despite the fact I probably have more plugs than outlets by now. It's sad how much power they have over me, mocking me with their uselessness, their laziness, their ability to sit there unmolested, safe in the knowledge that I will never be able to rid myself of them. Thinking about it, they have my dream job. By the way if anyone does invent a universal power cord, you owe me half!

#2 - Synchronized commercials - For those of you amateur TV watchers out there, pay attention, you'll learn something. You know how when you're watching TV you have to have an alternate channel? You have the show you're watching and when it goes to commercial you have your alternate to keep you entertained. It's a beautiful system, I've been using it for years. I've even worn the writing of the 'last channel' button on my remote. Everything was going along swimmingly, then some 3825-head at the network decides that his show loses too many viewers during commercials and he decides to synchronize his show, with the show your watching, and so the rest follow like evangelicals to Mike Huckabee, until you get to a point where, when your show goes to commercial, so does every other station.

#1 - Multiple spellings - Insure, ensure; Enquire, inquire; Theatre, theater - What the 3825? How did this happen? Did someone just say, "ah what the hell 'I' and 'E' are both vowels let em use whichever one they want. " Or, "they have all the right letters, is order really that important?" Yes! Yes it is, and don't even get me started on the difference between emigrant and immigrant!

I DON'T KNOW WHAT FRUMPY IS BUT ONOMOTOPOETICALLY, SOUNDS CORRECT

2008-01-01T23:03:00.000-05:00

Welcome to 2008 readers. I hope this finds you you happy, healthy and enacting my aforementioned resolutions for the new year. Failing that, I hope you at least feel guilty. Anway rather than spend time thinking of segue or a new post idea I'm just going to continue a list I started a while back, 'English Aphorisms that Don't Make Any Sense.' For the original list click here: http://youknowwhatbothersme.blogspot.com/2006/03/secret-lives-of-orthapedists.html

'English Aphorisms that Don't Make Any Sense' Continued

Wait just a cotton pickin minute - Exactly what unit of time is 'a cotton pickin minute?' Is it shorter than a regular minute? Longer? It seems like it would be longer you know, picking cotton doesn't seem like an expedient activity. Then again, the use of 'just' implies a minimal request, so maybe it's shorter. More to the point, why do you want me to wait a cotton pickin minute at all? Do you have to go pick cotton before we get to whatever it is we're getting to? Don't we have machines for that now? As an aside, I'm surprise Al Sharpton hasn't spoken out against it's continued use, though I suppose he'll get to it in a cotton pickin minute.

The whole nine yards - The whole nine yards? I don't know which part of this expression bothers me more. The fact that nine yards isn't a unit of measure of anything (except for nine yards), or the fact that someone felt it necessary to add the word 'whole.' Maybe somebody started saying "that's the nine yards right there" and someone said "Is that good?" "Was I aiming for ten yards? 100?" and so in trying to save the completely arbitrary choice of number he made it "the whole nine yards" so people would at least know it was a good thing.

Rome wasn't built in day - I know what this expression means. I know it espouses patience. I will even concede that Rome was not, in fact, built in a single day. What I don't understand, however, is, who the hell thought Rome was built in a day? When is this expression useful? Is there some foreman out there whipping constuction workers screaming; "Come on build faster, afterall, if they could build Rome in a day..." Seriously, if you were waiting for someone to let's say finish putting together a model airplane before going to a movie and you asked if they were done yet, and they responded, "Rome wasnt built in a day, you know," wouldn't you say "No sh*t Sherlock (now that's an idiom I can get behind), but you can put a model airplane together in under three hours!"

It's not rocket science - Things that are more difficult than rocket science, finding the cures for: AIDS, paralysis, blindness, male pattern baldness, erectile dysfucntion; making a car that can park itself; explaining how Pauley Shore is a millionaire; getting an American to talk to you when you call customer service. Of all the difficult things in the world to choose from, we've settled on rocket science as our paradogmatic example? I can go into Toys R' Us and buy a fully functioning rocket for ages 4 and up for $11.95, don't think I'll find a cure for lupus there though.

Love means never having to say your sorry - What a load of crap! Think about it, do you know of anyone apologizes more than married men? There are cold hard hermit criminal child rapist murders out there who are completely and totally unloved, they will probably go their entire lives without ever apologizing, but if you have a girlfriend you'll spend 45% of your day telling yourself you're not going to apologize and 37% of it apologizing (The other 18 percent is spent in the bathroom and or watching/reading about sports).

OH NO HE DIDN'T!

2007-12-31T10:37:00.001-05:00

Every New Year's we (and by we I mean people other than me) make promises of and to ourselves, lists of things we will and won't do, and, generally speaking, they last about as long my interest in watching a crystal ball fall slowly. Just a thought but don't you think it'd be more interesting if they actually DROPPED the ball, you know for real? I feel like crystal and glass become inherently more interesting when you know breakage is in their near future. Anyway, these resolutions are for the most part pointless, as, if we really wanted to do, or not do them, and had the will power to implement them, we'd have done so already. One exception to this rule, however, is the the resolution to change things we didn't know we wanted to change. I know it sounds complicated, but I will demonstrate:

Top Ten New Year's Resolutions, You Didn't Know You Needed to Make

10) Stop asking for other people's opinions when you'll be heartbroken if they tell the truth. If you need to ask, I mean really need to hear someone else say it to believe it, then you either have some sort of mental disease which is sad (unless you're a girl and you have low self-esteem which makes you desperate to please men, that's the opposite of sad) or you know the truth but are hoping that your friends will lie to you, and create an alternate reality for you to delude yourself in. We are all tired of lying to you (at least in that generous, for your own good kind of way).

9) Stop lying to protect people's feelings. Repeat after me; no you're not funny, that dress makes you look like an eggplant, no you don't deserve it, of course I can believe you got dumped, you look like an eggplant for God's sake! With just a bit more honesty I think we can set the record straight for so many of the deluded and allow them to focus on what they're really good at, like...

8) End the 'Plus One' - You know those friends you have, the ones you genuinely like, but everytime you invite them somewhere, they bring along that other dude, that guy no one can stand who single-handedly makes the whole enterprise a groan? They need to be stopped. They need to be made aware that while they may be awesome, their awesomeness is not great enough to encompass their douchebag friend. Now I caution you, before you get overzealous and start bashing 'awesome friend' for his 'Plus One' failings, realize it may not be entirely his fault, as, in the past, he may have asked of his awesome friends "Hey you guys, do you think 'other dude' is a douchebag?" and because it wasn't the new year and because you had yet to institute resolution #9 you said "Other dude? a douche? No, where'd you get that idea? Did someone say something, cuz I didn't." See how it snowballs?

7) Stop making obvious suggestions. When I complain to you that there's nothing to do, or ask of you, "you have any ideas what we could do today?" don't say, "we could go to a movie." I KNOW we could go to a movie (yes I know about bowling too), if I wanted to go to a movie, I'd say "hey, let's go to a movie. " No, my lament, "there's nothing to do," implies that there's nothing interesting to do or, if I was feeling ecceliastical, there's nothing new under the sun. Movies are not new, they are not original, they are the equivalent of suggesting your friend get his wife flowers and chocolates for their anniversary. Also, anyone wanna go to a movie tonight? Call me.

6) Stop repeating lines from Borat - I liiiike, is not funny. That's all I have to say on this paticular issue. Okaaaay?

5) Stop saying you "Root for New York." Pick you team and stick with it. Root for your guys to win, and glory in the failures of their counterparts. Sports are about favorites, you can only have one favorite, ask your wife/girlfriend/boyrfriend/husband/partner (not that I condone that sort of thing), they'll explain it to you, or, just tell her/him "but baby, you're my most favorite," and see what happens.

4) Stop wearing your bluetooth ear piece all freaking day. Seriously, they're like $12.99 at Wal-Mart they aren't cool. Also walking around talking to yourself without holding a phone to your ear is very confusing for people like me, who are trying to figure out whether you're a crazy bum and why it is I won't give you any change.

3) Stop saying 'I'll let you go now' at the end of a phone call. You're not letting me go, you're hanging up on me, you're the one going, not me. This is the wussiest way to end a conversation ever. It's the "it's not you it's me" of phone calls. Man up and say, "I'm bored, I wanna go now."

Authors' Note: Please don't hang up on me

2) My personal resolution is to have a quality penultimate resolution on next year's list, in the meantime, here's this:
Engage your inner child. Sneak up behind someone at work and flick their ear. Buy a video game console or find a friend who can be convinced his is distracting from his work. Drop a glass on the floor at midnight, you'll see purposely breaking glass is riveting.

1) Lose weight (mostly directed at women) - What? It's a good one. Also if you're inclined, and a woman, maybe you could start finding women attractive, but I think the losing weight thing is a good start.

That's all for now, follow these easy guidlines and maybe we can all have a happier year.

Hostel v. Hostile

2007-12-27T23:34:00.000-05:00

I know I may have implied I'd continued my expose on the abuses of the American employee, but I fear there is an epidemic in our backyard, an outbreak that threatens our very way of life. I speak, of course, of Tourists. My problems with tourists are legion, but for the sake of brevity and carpal tunnel I'll narrow it down to five.

1) Not everything is a landmark - Perhaps no technological innovation has contributed to the annoyance of New Yorkers as has the digital camera. For as long as cameras required film tourists would wander the city Minolta's in hand, waiting for the perfect picture to present itself, conserving film like Joseph hoarded wheat in the 'Seven Years of Plenty' all so that when they came upon NY's real sights, they'd have enough film left. Then came the digital camera, and gone were the incentives to conserve, to regulate, to not take pictures of a freaking Borders Bookstore chain store that they have in every mall in America! I now walk the streets like a downhill racer slaloming my way around stationary posers and photographers, spinning my way around the go and stoppers who are so overcome with awe at the sight of a building over 5 stories they feel the need to come to a sudden, complete and immediate stop in middle of the sidewalk. A small side note: I would like to note that the digital camera has also been a key contributer in college girls taking up "amateur photography" so you know, it's not all bad.

2) New York is not a theme park - I understand tourists have seen NY in TV and movies and actually being here is a sort of surreal experience, like finding yourself on the set of a sitcom, but the cars are real, the people are real and if you try and open a 6 foot wide map in the street again I will hurt you. If you get on the wrong subway, you have to pay to get on the right one. If you ask me for directions you have to realize I may send you to Harlem for kicks and giggles

3) I don't care where you're from - Why? Oh why? Oh why, do these people feel the urge to share the story of their voyage from Sheboygan to New York City? You've been looking forward to this all year? Your having a great time? The Empire State building is tall, you dont say? Do you by any chance need directions?

4) Fanny Packs - How do these still exist!? I mean who the hell makes these? Are people from Japan and Iowa having them custom made? I've seen more flattering lumps on bell tower residents and people with thyroid disorders.

5) How is everyone from middle America blond? This is less a complaint than it is an actual question, but I can't help but think that within this question, at the nexus of Japanese and Iowan tourism lies the source of the fascination Japanese men have with American blonde's.