It is now exactly two weeks and one day until we come out of the dreaded Forbidden Zone. I may have mentioned this before, although I’m not sure, but the Forbidden Zone is something that I made up entirely on my own. And don’t worry, it’s not some crazy part of a comic book universe that makes no sense in the overall scheme of things but makes up for it by sounding really cool. No, the Forbidden Zone isn’t even a place, real or imaginary. It’s really more of a state of mind.
Actually, it’s a time frame. The Forbidden Zone is a vastly important time of every calendar year that I observe each and every time around. It begins on November 14th and ends after February 14th. This three month span of the year is dubbed “The Forbidden Zone” because it is absolutely crucial that you avoid relationships during that time span. So basically, don’t let women get close to you, or better yet, don’t date any girls for that whole three month period.
Now bear with me, because I have some very good reasons for telling you this. The winter holidays are supposed to be a time of loving and caring, rejoicing and appreciating. But in reality, and I’m sure we’re all feeling the reality of it right now, those holidays are about making us spend money. Think about it. How much of your hard earned cash have you spent on your loved ones since mid-November? And how thin is your pocket book looking right now? I’m even willing to bet that you have plans to spend even more money (whether or not you can afford it) come February 14th.
Let me tell you that this particular part of the year is very important to our economy. I don’t want you to quit spending money altogether, just stop spending it on dates. During the winter holidays of Thanksgiving, Chanukah, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and whatever else it is that you may celebrate, literally billions of dollars are sent roaming through the economy. And this is a good thing. We depend on this influx of money every year, and without it, our economy would flat-line and the integrity of our country as a whole would be in danger. Whole societies have crumbled beneath the under-indulgent weight of a lackluster winter holiday sales slump. Rome is a prime example.
Sure, the historians say it was a mix of splitting the empire, the increase in barbarian raids, and the unsure method of selecting a new emperor. But I know the truth. We all know the empire was in decline, but they were still rich and they had the largest army on the planet. All it took was one lousy Saturnalia (which is the ancient Roman holiday that takes place around the same time as Christmas). For some reason that we may never know, the great and wealthy Romans decided not to go out and spend massive amounts of money for their holiday. Alas, there were no decorated fig trees, no Saturnalia Games in the Coliseum, and no Roman orgies. Hey, get your head out of the gutter! The Roman orgy was a large party of Roman elites that ate and drank excessively, even to the point of forcing themselves to throw up so they could eat and drink more. It reminds me of college.
So you see, without the large amounts of coin being pass around, the Roman economy grinded to a halt and led to its eventual destruction starting when Rome itself was sacked by the Visigoths in 410 AD. Moral of the story: if you don’t spend lots of money during the holidays, Rome gets sacked by barbarians. Ok, that’s more of a history lesson than even I need.
So why have I designed this Forbidden Zone? We all now know that emptying our wallets during the cold months keeps our country from falling apart. So why would I warn you about this particular time? Well, it’s all due to the one element which is recognized by all scientists to drain your money faster than anything else. It’s woman. The Forbidden Zone is a period in time where you should avoid dating women. If not, you will end up spending more money in this three month period, than you will for the rest of the women you meet for the other nine months combined.
Now don’t get me wrong. If you already have a long term relationship going into November 14th, then by all means, keep it going. You shouldn’t dump a girl just because you’re about to hit the Forbidden Zone. Hey, you got yourself into that mess, don’t expect me to get you out. And if you’re married… well then you have my condolences. You’re beyond even my help.
Honestly, I just want you to do one favor for me. This Valentine’s Day, when you’re planning on taking out a person of the female persuasion, just ask yourself: “Is she worth it?” Take a long look at how much money you’re squandering on this particular female and decide if you’re really going to be happy with the way you’ve spent your hard earned cash.
I mean, if your date is planning on bringing over some girl she kind of knows from her gym later that night to join you, well then by all means spend as much money as you can afford. But if your date is going to give you a hug and tell you how good of a friend you are before leaving you alone for the rest of the evening, well, was it really worth spending $200? Because if your answer is yes, I can just come over there, set your two hundred dollar bills on fire and kick you in the balls repeatedly while you watch your money turn to ash in front of your eyes. That will take all of five minutes, and you can have the rest of the evening to play Halo 2 (or whatever multiplayer game it is your kids are playing these days).
I just want to make on thing straight. I don’t hate Valentine’s Day. The fact is, I’ve never had a date on the holiday before, and that doesn’t bother me one bit. Personally I feel that if there is a girl that I care about enough to take out and spend that much money on, then I’ll do it. But if there isn’t a girl in my life who just is that special, then there’s really no point. I have better things to do with my time and money than waste them on someone I don’t really care that much about. What really gets me angry is all of the guys I talk to feel they need to have a date for Valentine’s Day. It’s like their life is worthless without one. But that’s just not true.
There’s nothing special about February 14th. In reality, it’s just another day out of the year. If you don’t have a date lined up, then please don’t even bother worrying about it. You’ll be saving yourself plenty of money and tons of headaches. Trust me on that one. And if anyone asks you about it or makes fun of you, just tell them that you’re stuck in the Forbidden Zone. Once February 14th passes, you’ll be free to date again. Free to hang out with annoying women who only care about your money and not about who you really are as a person. Ah, the wonderful world of dating, how I’ve missed you these past three months!
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Aprons Are for Nancy-boys
So I’ve had a little bit of free time lately, and I decided to use it to do something productive. Yesterday was clean up day. I figured, after about three months, it was finally time to clear out the mountain of Wendy’s and Hardee’s take out bags that were piled up on top of my trash can. No seriously, the pile was almost as tall as I was. It was getting to be a chess match between me and the fragile prehistoric mound-like edifice I had built. Will one more bag fit on top without everything toppling over? Can I go one more day without having to take out the garbage? These are the questions that plague my mind daily.
So I loaded everything up into four separate trash bags and took everything out. Yes, four trash bags for a one bedroom apartment. I’m not a dirty man, I’m just lazy. Hey, I take my trash out once every three months, that means I’m being clean enough, right? You know what, do me a favor and don’t answer that.
But yesterday was about oh-so much more than taking out the trash. In fact, my dirty clothes had been building a mound society of their very own. Normally I have to pull the hammer out of my tool box so I can use the claw side of it to rip apart the garments that have become cemented together in my laundry basket. I’m actually surprised that the amount of time and pressure exerted upon my dirty clothes in the laundry basket doesn’t fuse two articles together to form some sort of mutated freak of apparel. Luckily that hasn’t happened. Nor did I have to resort to using tools to separate my clothes. For some strange reason, the laundry basket has remained next to my washing machine since the last time I did clothes instead of returning to my closet where it belongs. Hey, I’m lazy, remember.
So instead, I found a large mound of dirty clothes lying on the floor of my closet blocking me from access to my dresser and whatever else I might need. Normally that would be a bad thing, but it’s been at least six months since I folded and clothes and put them away. I have developed a perfectly intellectual system for my clothing cycles. The smelly wrinkled clothes on the floor are dirty. The wrinkled clothes laying on the futon are clean. And of course, if it’s on the floor and it doesn’t smell, it gets relegated to that grey area where it’s ok to wear as long as I’m not going on a date. Well, it’s probably ok to wear on a date as long as I’m not trying to impress the girl.
So after starting a load of laundry, taking out the trash, and cleaning a few dishes (the nice thing about fast food is that you don’t have too many dishes to worry about) I decided to bake a batch of cookies. See, there’s this recipe for double chocolate cookies that I’ve been meaning to try since I’ve never actually done a pure chocolate cookie recipe before. Hey, I enjoy baking. Now I know what you’re thinking, but this does not make me a woman. Guys can be domestic too you know. So before you start making fun of me, let me just remind you that I’m 6’2”, 190lbs, an avid hockey player, and I could totally beat the crap out of your boyfriend.
I think my forays into the mystic realm of bakeries is well documented. So suffice it to say, I pretty much know what I’m doing. And as luck would have it the cookies turned out rather well. I’m enjoying them at least. It was a pretty small batch I made up so I most likely will not be sending any out to friends, which is a break from my normal routine. I believe in sharing, I’m nice like that. Just like when a friend of mine is dating a girl who has a physically attractive sister/roommate/friend on the rebound, I expect them to share. Like I said, it’s the polite thing to do.
I look back now and I see a much cleaner apartment and I feel an odd sense of accomplishment. Granted, it’s not exactly what most of you would normally call “neat” or “clean.” There’s still junk lying out over the coffee table and who knows what sitting on top of the kitchenette bar (seriously, I’m too afraid to find out). Hey, a there’s only so much domestication a guy can do before the NHL All-Star Skills Competition comes on. And yes, I’m that big of a hockey freak that I watch the skills competition every year. What can I say, I love hockey.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to watch the All-Star game tonight. It comes on at 8pm Eastern Time and I have my own hockey game to play at 9pm. This game is important too since we have a chance at winning that would put us at 2-2 for the season. That would be huge when you bear in mind that we only had two wins all last season combined. I’m not afraid to admit that we suck. And you know what? I’m ok with that. We’re getting better, and with some luck we could finish this season at .500 or better. That’s the goal at least.
In the meantime I should probably finish what I started yesterday. My apartment still hasn’t been totally cleaned up, but you know what, screw it. I’m too lazy. Besides, what did you expect? If you want to see clean and tidy go call up Martha Stewart. If you want to see an apartment that revolves around pizza, beer, and video games then you’ve come to the right place. Now if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to go grab another beer…
As a final note I wanted to give some kudos to ESPN commentator Mike Ditka for being the only person on ESPN (both on TV and on ESPN.com) to pick the Bears (DAA Bears!) to win the NFC Championship game over the New Orleans Saints. I’m sure he had personal reasons for picking the Bears to win, but nevertheless, he was the only one who got it right. The rest of you football journalists should pay attention. Mike Ditka is smarter than you. Oh, and Rex Grossman is still my hero. Laugh at me all you want, but he’s in the Super Bowl and you’re not.
So I loaded everything up into four separate trash bags and took everything out. Yes, four trash bags for a one bedroom apartment. I’m not a dirty man, I’m just lazy. Hey, I take my trash out once every three months, that means I’m being clean enough, right? You know what, do me a favor and don’t answer that.
But yesterday was about oh-so much more than taking out the trash. In fact, my dirty clothes had been building a mound society of their very own. Normally I have to pull the hammer out of my tool box so I can use the claw side of it to rip apart the garments that have become cemented together in my laundry basket. I’m actually surprised that the amount of time and pressure exerted upon my dirty clothes in the laundry basket doesn’t fuse two articles together to form some sort of mutated freak of apparel. Luckily that hasn’t happened. Nor did I have to resort to using tools to separate my clothes. For some strange reason, the laundry basket has remained next to my washing machine since the last time I did clothes instead of returning to my closet where it belongs. Hey, I’m lazy, remember.
So instead, I found a large mound of dirty clothes lying on the floor of my closet blocking me from access to my dresser and whatever else I might need. Normally that would be a bad thing, but it’s been at least six months since I folded and clothes and put them away. I have developed a perfectly intellectual system for my clothing cycles. The smelly wrinkled clothes on the floor are dirty. The wrinkled clothes laying on the futon are clean. And of course, if it’s on the floor and it doesn’t smell, it gets relegated to that grey area where it’s ok to wear as long as I’m not going on a date. Well, it’s probably ok to wear on a date as long as I’m not trying to impress the girl.
So after starting a load of laundry, taking out the trash, and cleaning a few dishes (the nice thing about fast food is that you don’t have too many dishes to worry about) I decided to bake a batch of cookies. See, there’s this recipe for double chocolate cookies that I’ve been meaning to try since I’ve never actually done a pure chocolate cookie recipe before. Hey, I enjoy baking. Now I know what you’re thinking, but this does not make me a woman. Guys can be domestic too you know. So before you start making fun of me, let me just remind you that I’m 6’2”, 190lbs, an avid hockey player, and I could totally beat the crap out of your boyfriend.
I think my forays into the mystic realm of bakeries is well documented. So suffice it to say, I pretty much know what I’m doing. And as luck would have it the cookies turned out rather well. I’m enjoying them at least. It was a pretty small batch I made up so I most likely will not be sending any out to friends, which is a break from my normal routine. I believe in sharing, I’m nice like that. Just like when a friend of mine is dating a girl who has a physically attractive sister/roommate/friend on the rebound, I expect them to share. Like I said, it’s the polite thing to do.
I look back now and I see a much cleaner apartment and I feel an odd sense of accomplishment. Granted, it’s not exactly what most of you would normally call “neat” or “clean.” There’s still junk lying out over the coffee table and who knows what sitting on top of the kitchenette bar (seriously, I’m too afraid to find out). Hey, a there’s only so much domestication a guy can do before the NHL All-Star Skills Competition comes on. And yes, I’m that big of a hockey freak that I watch the skills competition every year. What can I say, I love hockey.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to watch the All-Star game tonight. It comes on at 8pm Eastern Time and I have my own hockey game to play at 9pm. This game is important too since we have a chance at winning that would put us at 2-2 for the season. That would be huge when you bear in mind that we only had two wins all last season combined. I’m not afraid to admit that we suck. And you know what? I’m ok with that. We’re getting better, and with some luck we could finish this season at .500 or better. That’s the goal at least.
In the meantime I should probably finish what I started yesterday. My apartment still hasn’t been totally cleaned up, but you know what, screw it. I’m too lazy. Besides, what did you expect? If you want to see clean and tidy go call up Martha Stewart. If you want to see an apartment that revolves around pizza, beer, and video games then you’ve come to the right place. Now if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to go grab another beer…
As a final note I wanted to give some kudos to ESPN commentator Mike Ditka for being the only person on ESPN (both on TV and on ESPN.com) to pick the Bears (DAA Bears!) to win the NFC Championship game over the New Orleans Saints. I’m sure he had personal reasons for picking the Bears to win, but nevertheless, he was the only one who got it right. The rest of you football journalists should pay attention. Mike Ditka is smarter than you. Oh, and Rex Grossman is still my hero. Laugh at me all you want, but he’s in the Super Bowl and you’re not.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Damn It’s Good to Be a Sports Nut
In case you missed it, I’m going to give you a quick run down of the NCAA National Championship game. This recap is brought to you by the fine folks at Stupid Inventions magazine. “If it’s stupid, we can invent it!”
Ohio State versus Florida (Monday, January 8th, 2007)
Ohio State: We’re the best team in the nation! We’ve got Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith. We beat two number two teams this year, and we’re gonna flat run over you, Florida!
Florida: Urban Meier is an offensive god. Chris Leak and Tim Tebow are going to duel-mode bitch slap you right back to Columbus.
Ohio State: (SLAP) Ouch… that hurt! Don’t do that. Please… please don’t hurt us again. We’ll roll over and play dead now, just please don’t hurt us.
Florida: That’s right bitch. Now go make me a sandwich.
That was pretty much what happened. I have to admit, I was utterly disappointed in the game. And where was Mr. Heisman that night? I thought Troy Smith drank the nectar of the gods and shitted out rainbows. But apparently he plays like a blinded eight year old school girl. Honestly, I expected more out of him.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Troy Smith. He played exceptionally well all year and deserved that Heisman. But no one cares about that if you can’t pull it out in the one game of the year that really matters. Sorry Mr. Heisman, but you really did get slapped around that game. Unfortunately, it was a bad end to an otherwise stellar season.
Now, as good as a performance that Florida put on (and let’s give credit where credit is due), I still have some problems about them being national champions. Sure Florida beat the best team in the nation and finished up 13-1 on the season with a tough SEC schedule. But there’s one team that finished up the season with a better record. Yes, I’m talking about Boise State. You know that team with the royal blue turf field that you see on TV but never really care about. That’s them.
I’m saying it right now, on the record, so please print this out so you have a paper copy: Boise State should be crowned National Champions. They are the only team in Division I-A football that finished the season undefeated. That’s 13 wins with no losses. The Broncos are the one team out of 119 peer teams to get the job done each and every week of the season. Doesn’t that count for something?
Now I know you’re thinking that Boise State had a weak schedule and that their conference isn’t anything near as difficult as anything the six major conferences have to play through. This is true, and I completely agree with you there. Both Florida and Ohio State had to play much tougher schedules than the Broncos. But allow me dissuade you of your conferential prejudices.
Why do I think Boise State should be number one? Well, did you see the Fiesta Bowl? I unfortunately missed it. And it is one of the biggest regrets of my life. Either my life is really sad or that was the greatest game of college football ever played. I’ll let you decide. But you can’t deny the fact that of all the college football played this season, that Boise State pulling it off against Oklahoma in the national spotlight of a major BCS Bowl is a memorable experience for all (unless, of course, you’re from Oklahoma).
Anyone who can pull off the plays and make the calls like Boise State coach Chris Peterson deserves to have a National Championship. Getting that team back into the game with seven seconds left was miraculous. In overtime, needing only a simple extra point to tie the game and send it to double overtime, Peterson choose to go for two points. Make it, and you win the big game and everyone loves you. Miss and you go back home crying with you head between you thighs like a little girl and wondering what could have been. That’s a tough call. Not only did he make this call, but Peterson had the balls of solid stainless steel, the absolute audacity to call a statue of liberty play for the two point conversion. And it worked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the statue of liberty used before in college football. And the USA Today Coaches Poll didn’t even place the Broncos in the top five nationally. I’m sorry, but I’m invoking my constitutional right to call: bull shit.
There were five BCS bowl games this year. Those are the biggest end of year games in the country. You’d think the winners of those games would wind up as the five best teams in the nation. Let’s just forget about Ohio State’s season, where they beat a number two Texas and beat a number two Michigan. Ohio State lost. They finished 12-1. Boise State is 13-0. I can’t say that enough. The one undefeated team in the league and they can’t even scratch the top five. If that doesn’t convince you that the system is flawed, then I don’t know what will.
As I’ve said before, Boise State is the best team in the nation. So what if they’re in the WAC? Winning 13 games in one season isn’t easy even in for the Western Athletic Conference. And even then, they had to get through the Big 12 Champion Oklahoma Sooners to pull it off. I think we all need to start showing more love to the mid-majors out there. It doesn’t matter if you do or not. I will. Coach Peterson, you rock. Keep up the good work, and I hope to see you in the BCS again next year.
Wow… did I really just write all of that trying to convince you that Boise State, of all teams, should be number one? That’s a stretch, even for me. Still, Boise State deserves plenty of praise, especially after showing us one hell of a game. And really, isn’t that what football is all about? We’ve already seen some great NFL games this past week with Chicago winning in overtime (DAA Bears!) and the Patriots with a comeback win over the Chargers.
I’m looking forward to the Super Bowl. Will Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts actually win a conference championship and maybe even (God forbid) a National Championship? Will the Patriots continue their dominance over the AFC and deny the Colts in the playoffs once again? Will the Saints continue their miraculous season and come marching home with a championship? Or will the Bears go all the way and do their own Super Bowl Shuffle? I’m just so excited I can’t wait. Boy is it good to be a sports nut.
Ohio State versus Florida (Monday, January 8th, 2007)
Ohio State: We’re the best team in the nation! We’ve got Heisman Trophy winner Troy Smith. We beat two number two teams this year, and we’re gonna flat run over you, Florida!
Florida: Urban Meier is an offensive god. Chris Leak and Tim Tebow are going to duel-mode bitch slap you right back to Columbus.
Ohio State: (SLAP) Ouch… that hurt! Don’t do that. Please… please don’t hurt us again. We’ll roll over and play dead now, just please don’t hurt us.
Florida: That’s right bitch. Now go make me a sandwich.
That was pretty much what happened. I have to admit, I was utterly disappointed in the game. And where was Mr. Heisman that night? I thought Troy Smith drank the nectar of the gods and shitted out rainbows. But apparently he plays like a blinded eight year old school girl. Honestly, I expected more out of him.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Troy Smith. He played exceptionally well all year and deserved that Heisman. But no one cares about that if you can’t pull it out in the one game of the year that really matters. Sorry Mr. Heisman, but you really did get slapped around that game. Unfortunately, it was a bad end to an otherwise stellar season.
Now, as good as a performance that Florida put on (and let’s give credit where credit is due), I still have some problems about them being national champions. Sure Florida beat the best team in the nation and finished up 13-1 on the season with a tough SEC schedule. But there’s one team that finished up the season with a better record. Yes, I’m talking about Boise State. You know that team with the royal blue turf field that you see on TV but never really care about. That’s them.
I’m saying it right now, on the record, so please print this out so you have a paper copy: Boise State should be crowned National Champions. They are the only team in Division I-A football that finished the season undefeated. That’s 13 wins with no losses. The Broncos are the one team out of 119 peer teams to get the job done each and every week of the season. Doesn’t that count for something?
Now I know you’re thinking that Boise State had a weak schedule and that their conference isn’t anything near as difficult as anything the six major conferences have to play through. This is true, and I completely agree with you there. Both Florida and Ohio State had to play much tougher schedules than the Broncos. But allow me dissuade you of your conferential prejudices.
Why do I think Boise State should be number one? Well, did you see the Fiesta Bowl? I unfortunately missed it. And it is one of the biggest regrets of my life. Either my life is really sad or that was the greatest game of college football ever played. I’ll let you decide. But you can’t deny the fact that of all the college football played this season, that Boise State pulling it off against Oklahoma in the national spotlight of a major BCS Bowl is a memorable experience for all (unless, of course, you’re from Oklahoma).
Anyone who can pull off the plays and make the calls like Boise State coach Chris Peterson deserves to have a National Championship. Getting that team back into the game with seven seconds left was miraculous. In overtime, needing only a simple extra point to tie the game and send it to double overtime, Peterson choose to go for two points. Make it, and you win the big game and everyone loves you. Miss and you go back home crying with you head between you thighs like a little girl and wondering what could have been. That’s a tough call. Not only did he make this call, but Peterson had the balls of solid stainless steel, the absolute audacity to call a statue of liberty play for the two point conversion. And it worked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the statue of liberty used before in college football. And the USA Today Coaches Poll didn’t even place the Broncos in the top five nationally. I’m sorry, but I’m invoking my constitutional right to call: bull shit.
There were five BCS bowl games this year. Those are the biggest end of year games in the country. You’d think the winners of those games would wind up as the five best teams in the nation. Let’s just forget about Ohio State’s season, where they beat a number two Texas and beat a number two Michigan. Ohio State lost. They finished 12-1. Boise State is 13-0. I can’t say that enough. The one undefeated team in the league and they can’t even scratch the top five. If that doesn’t convince you that the system is flawed, then I don’t know what will.
As I’ve said before, Boise State is the best team in the nation. So what if they’re in the WAC? Winning 13 games in one season isn’t easy even in for the Western Athletic Conference. And even then, they had to get through the Big 12 Champion Oklahoma Sooners to pull it off. I think we all need to start showing more love to the mid-majors out there. It doesn’t matter if you do or not. I will. Coach Peterson, you rock. Keep up the good work, and I hope to see you in the BCS again next year.
Wow… did I really just write all of that trying to convince you that Boise State, of all teams, should be number one? That’s a stretch, even for me. Still, Boise State deserves plenty of praise, especially after showing us one hell of a game. And really, isn’t that what football is all about? We’ve already seen some great NFL games this past week with Chicago winning in overtime (DAA Bears!) and the Patriots with a comeback win over the Chargers.
I’m looking forward to the Super Bowl. Will Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts actually win a conference championship and maybe even (God forbid) a National Championship? Will the Patriots continue their dominance over the AFC and deny the Colts in the playoffs once again? Will the Saints continue their miraculous season and come marching home with a championship? Or will the Bears go all the way and do their own Super Bowl Shuffle? I’m just so excited I can’t wait. Boy is it good to be a sports nut.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Some Stuff, Different Year
You know, I’m not one to be overly introspective. I always expect myself to improve in the things I do, but setting actual goals and time limits, that’s not something I’m really into. That being said, I actually have a few New Years Resolutions this go around. Like I said, I’m not usually one to set resolutions… Well, except for the usual pledge to meet more girls who are quick to get out of their pants. Now calm down. I know what you’re thinking. But contrary to popular belief, my goal every year is NOT to pick up the most sluttish and easiest girls out there. I have been working, for quite some time and with more than a little bit of effort, mind you, on a theory of mine that purports that there is a directly proportional relationship between how annoying a girl is and the amount of clothes she is wearing.
Basically, my hypothesis (technically it’s not a theory until I have a large bundle of documented facts to back it up) is that the more clothes any one girl wears, the more annoying she is. But if she takes off a few layers of clothes, she automatically becomes less annoying. Unfortunately I don’t have enough data to devise an exact mathematical formula to express this interaction. I am still collecting evidence from the field to back up my hypothesis and conclude my aforementioned formula. This is an important project to a cynical man like myself who firmly believes the mass majority of humanity was placed on Earth simply to annoy me. If I can find a mathematical way to make women less annoying, well then that’s just gravy. Suffice it to say, until I come up with that formula, I will continue to be on top of it.
This year, however, I am not choosing to focus large amounts of time and energy into a project that is not totally (or even partially) approved by any major scientific institution. This year, I’m focusing my efforts on something even more important: myself. Let’s be honest here, if I don’t look out for Number One, who will? So without further distractions from chicks wearing far too many clothes, here they are (in order of the number of beers I had to drink to come up with the resolution):
1. Write more, and do more serious writing
2. Get my life put together
3. Play more video games (seriously)
4. Wear pants more often
Ok, let’s just start out at number one. And this is my original resolution that I came up with before drinking any beer whatsoever. Occasionally I can come up with thoughts without involving alcohol in the processes. It just doesn’t happen very frequently. As much as I enjoy writing these blogs once a week (and I really do) and as good as it has been for me to force myself to be creative at least once a week, I need to do more. If I’m ever to truly reach my dream of writing for a living, this non-income producing column isn’t going to cut it in the long run.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to stop writing It’s Supposed to Be Funny (or the Privette Papers, or whatever you want to call it) in the foreseeable future. I just think that there are other projects that I need to work on if I’m ever to get something published, and more importantly, paid for. Because daddy needs some bacon, though I am willing to take that bacon in cash form. I’ll take actual bacon too, I’m not that picky. Hey, bacon is good stuff. Just as long as it’s none of that faux Canadian bacon. Do you realize that that stuff is actually ham? Is Canada really that much different from the US that they have to resort to trying to pass off ham as bacon?
Resolution number two is closely tied to the first one. I have been a huge bum ever since graduating from college. I avoid getting a real job and a real life like everyone else probably because I’m scared I’ll actually grow up. And let’s be honest, being a grown up sucks, there’s far too much responsibility involved. I just don’t see the point in settling down right now. But the fact remains, I can’t keep being a huge bum for the rest of my life. For one thing, it’s hard to pick up chicks when you’re a bum, even if their pants do come off readily.
My first resolution is to write more. My second resolution is to turn that writing into money. I need to quit being a pansy about rejection and start trying to get this stuff published. Or I could just win the lottery. I’d be cool with that too. I think I could survive a few years off of 100 million dollars or so. The only downside is that taxes on 100 million dollars are a real pain in the ass. The government really knows how to take the fun out of winning the lottery.
The third resolution I came up with was after about my forth beer of the night, but really, I could have come up with this vow without the help of my special muse. And yes, I am being serious. The problem is that I have far too many video games that have piled up that haven’t been beaten yet. If I’m ever going to get through all these games before I go out and buy more (and trust me, I will buy more, I’m just a whore like that) I need to start making it a priority to play games more often.
I only need one more dungeon to beat The Legend of Zelda, the Twilight Princess on the Wii. Also on the Wii I need to play through Red Steel, which I’ve barely even touched. For the Playstation 2 (even if I did win 100 million dollars in the NC state lottery, I still wouldn’t have enough money to buy the Playstation 3), I need to play more Guitar Hero 2, and I’ve recently acquired Final Fantasy XII, which I’m sure is going to absorb my soul. There’s also the remake of Final Fantasy III (originally an NES game) for my Nintendo DS. So many high quality games, so little time. And yes, this is important. It’s still one of my biggest regrets that I have yet to beat Super Mario Brothers 3 (you know the game for the NES where you get the raccoon tail and the tanooki suit).
Finally we come to fourth resolution: I really do need to wear pants more often. The problem is, I’ve been living by myself for just about a year now, and since there’s no one around for me to worry about, I tend to go without pants for extended periods of time. If there’s no one here, that’s not a big deal. But after about eight beers with my friends, I tend to get a bit… uncomfortable. I’m not saying that my pants come off after eight beers, but I do ponder the existential existence of my lower legging material. And to be perfectly honest, you probably don’t want to know any more than that. Sometimes, saying less really is more.
Well, there you have it. I look inside at my most ponderous and profound thoughts. Just try not to look too deep or read too much into it. Trust me, there’s not much there. There’s just an enormous empty feeling from not beating Super Mario Bros. 3. Seriously, what guy from my generation hasn’t beaten that game? These are the things that keep me up at night…
See, I told you not to delve too deep. Maybe next time you should listen to me.
Basically, my hypothesis (technically it’s not a theory until I have a large bundle of documented facts to back it up) is that the more clothes any one girl wears, the more annoying she is. But if she takes off a few layers of clothes, she automatically becomes less annoying. Unfortunately I don’t have enough data to devise an exact mathematical formula to express this interaction. I am still collecting evidence from the field to back up my hypothesis and conclude my aforementioned formula. This is an important project to a cynical man like myself who firmly believes the mass majority of humanity was placed on Earth simply to annoy me. If I can find a mathematical way to make women less annoying, well then that’s just gravy. Suffice it to say, until I come up with that formula, I will continue to be on top of it.
This year, however, I am not choosing to focus large amounts of time and energy into a project that is not totally (or even partially) approved by any major scientific institution. This year, I’m focusing my efforts on something even more important: myself. Let’s be honest here, if I don’t look out for Number One, who will? So without further distractions from chicks wearing far too many clothes, here they are (in order of the number of beers I had to drink to come up with the resolution):
1. Write more, and do more serious writing
2. Get my life put together
3. Play more video games (seriously)
4. Wear pants more often
Ok, let’s just start out at number one. And this is my original resolution that I came up with before drinking any beer whatsoever. Occasionally I can come up with thoughts without involving alcohol in the processes. It just doesn’t happen very frequently. As much as I enjoy writing these blogs once a week (and I really do) and as good as it has been for me to force myself to be creative at least once a week, I need to do more. If I’m ever to truly reach my dream of writing for a living, this non-income producing column isn’t going to cut it in the long run.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to stop writing It’s Supposed to Be Funny (or the Privette Papers, or whatever you want to call it) in the foreseeable future. I just think that there are other projects that I need to work on if I’m ever to get something published, and more importantly, paid for. Because daddy needs some bacon, though I am willing to take that bacon in cash form. I’ll take actual bacon too, I’m not that picky. Hey, bacon is good stuff. Just as long as it’s none of that faux Canadian bacon. Do you realize that that stuff is actually ham? Is Canada really that much different from the US that they have to resort to trying to pass off ham as bacon?
Resolution number two is closely tied to the first one. I have been a huge bum ever since graduating from college. I avoid getting a real job and a real life like everyone else probably because I’m scared I’ll actually grow up. And let’s be honest, being a grown up sucks, there’s far too much responsibility involved. I just don’t see the point in settling down right now. But the fact remains, I can’t keep being a huge bum for the rest of my life. For one thing, it’s hard to pick up chicks when you’re a bum, even if their pants do come off readily.
My first resolution is to write more. My second resolution is to turn that writing into money. I need to quit being a pansy about rejection and start trying to get this stuff published. Or I could just win the lottery. I’d be cool with that too. I think I could survive a few years off of 100 million dollars or so. The only downside is that taxes on 100 million dollars are a real pain in the ass. The government really knows how to take the fun out of winning the lottery.
The third resolution I came up with was after about my forth beer of the night, but really, I could have come up with this vow without the help of my special muse. And yes, I am being serious. The problem is that I have far too many video games that have piled up that haven’t been beaten yet. If I’m ever going to get through all these games before I go out and buy more (and trust me, I will buy more, I’m just a whore like that) I need to start making it a priority to play games more often.
I only need one more dungeon to beat The Legend of Zelda, the Twilight Princess on the Wii. Also on the Wii I need to play through Red Steel, which I’ve barely even touched. For the Playstation 2 (even if I did win 100 million dollars in the NC state lottery, I still wouldn’t have enough money to buy the Playstation 3), I need to play more Guitar Hero 2, and I’ve recently acquired Final Fantasy XII, which I’m sure is going to absorb my soul. There’s also the remake of Final Fantasy III (originally an NES game) for my Nintendo DS. So many high quality games, so little time. And yes, this is important. It’s still one of my biggest regrets that I have yet to beat Super Mario Brothers 3 (you know the game for the NES where you get the raccoon tail and the tanooki suit).
Finally we come to fourth resolution: I really do need to wear pants more often. The problem is, I’ve been living by myself for just about a year now, and since there’s no one around for me to worry about, I tend to go without pants for extended periods of time. If there’s no one here, that’s not a big deal. But after about eight beers with my friends, I tend to get a bit… uncomfortable. I’m not saying that my pants come off after eight beers, but I do ponder the existential existence of my lower legging material. And to be perfectly honest, you probably don’t want to know any more than that. Sometimes, saying less really is more.
Well, there you have it. I look inside at my most ponderous and profound thoughts. Just try not to look too deep or read too much into it. Trust me, there’s not much there. There’s just an enormous empty feeling from not beating Super Mario Bros. 3. Seriously, what guy from my generation hasn’t beaten that game? These are the things that keep me up at night…
See, I told you not to delve too deep. Maybe next time you should listen to me.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Now the Morning Light Has Come and Kicked My Ass
So I woke up Tuesday morning, went straight to the bathroom, and threw up. Let me assure you, it was not fun. Regurgitation is something I try to avoid as a general rule, mainly because I have a really hard time breathing right after I violently vomit and expel the contents of my intestines. Totally not cool.
To figure out why I was hunched over my toilet praying to the porcelain gods at 9:30 in the AM, we need to rewind a bit to Monday. That’s right, New Years Day. I did not go out on New Years Eve, mainly due to the fact that I’m a huge loser. Personally I don’t consider myself a loser, but if you stay in New Years Eve and go to sleep nursing a cold you caught from your father while visiting the family for Christmas, then by default, you are a loser. And no, I’m not bitter at my dad for giving me his cold just in time for Christmas and New Years. Nope, not bitter one bit.
So here we are on Monday, January First. Or, as I always remember it, Company Holiday Party. We have our party a little bit later than most companies, but trust me, it’s totally worth it. The boys upstairs set up a nice dinner at a hotel, hand out usually five to six tickets for free drinks per person, and get the hotel to offer rooms at a discount for people attending the party. That last little part is especially nice, because after about three fourths of a bottle of bourbon I do not need to be getting anywhere near my car. And that’s something that I can’t stress enough, I drink good old fashioned American Whiskey. I buy domestic and thereby support the hardworking American.
So after a nice sit-down dinner of filet and shrimp (the filet was much better going down Monday than it was coming up Tuesday, trust me) I headed out to the hotel bar to start drinking with the rest of the alcoholics. Well, it wasn’t starting so much as it was continuing. I think I was the first person to show up before dinner so I could hang out at the bar, get the whiskey flowing, and watch some of the Rose Bowl (Unfortunately, I missed the Fiesta Bowl with Boise St. beating Oklahoma 43-42 in an overtime spectacular). Being there that early gave me the opportunity to talk the party organizers into giving me a few extra drink tickets. What can I say, I’m a sucker for free drinks. Now apparently after dinner, while I was at the bar, I missed my name being called out to receive a door prize (an Ipod, I think), so they gave it to someone else. I didn’t get an Ipod because I was busy drinking. C’est la vie. That’s pretty much the story of my life.
Do you mind if I take a break from my current storytelling to ask you a philosophical question? Is it ok to watch a 17 year old girl making out with a 19 year old girl? Or more importantly: Is it ok to enjoy watching a 17 year old girl making out another girl? And I ask for absolutely no reason whatsoever. …except for the fact that the previously mentioned event happened Monday night not three inches from my face. And truth be told, I enjoyed watching, very much so. That doesn’t make me a dirty old man, does it?
There’s a trick to drinking at the company holiday party. Well, there’s a trick at my company party at least. When everyone is hanging out at the bar after dinner, you’ll usually find me drinking with the general managers. Now why would I be spending my time with my bosses at a party where there’s underage female to female tongue action going on? Mainly, my bosses are almost as big of alcoholics as I am. And that’s saying something. So every time I see the big boys trying to decide what shot to order, I quietly slide on over and suggest Red-headed Sluts (Jager, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice). Because really, who doesn’t like red heads?
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Three fourths of a bottle of bourbon and several shots, I should probably not be surprised that I ended up getting sick. I mean, alcohol is not the healthiest of substances. Well, let me assure you that I have discovered, by means of my uncanny intellect and astounding analytical skills, that beyond any shadow of a doubt, it was the steak that made me sick, not the alcohol.
To be perfectly honest, alcohol and I go way back, especially whiskey. We’ve had a very long and fruitful friendship, and I am very reluctant to believe that alcohol would betray my trust like that and cause me to get ill. This is why I choose to believe it was the food at fault. Armed with that knowledge I can now go out this weekend and continue my relationship with alcohol unimpeded by any needless worries.
Luckily I had the foresight to make sure I didn’t have to go into work Tuesday. The last thing I need is to be working with a fragile stomach and light head. Well, actually, the last thing I need is group of ninja assassins stalking me at night. But the being sick at work thing is still pretty bad. I feel sorry for the guys who actually had to go in today. It must suck to be them.
Well, I think that’s pretty much the highlights of my night. I drank a lot of whiskey, watched some indiscretions, and took some shots. How many shots did I have? …no seriously, how many did I have? I don’t have a clue. And this seems like it might be relevant information taking into account the first sentence in this passage.
Although, I have to say, I am proud of myself. I made it to my room, all on my own, and got into my pajamas and into bed. That’s quite an accomplishment. Usually at one of these things, I wake up the next day sitting up in my bed, fully clothed (shoes and all), with the lights still on. I have no idea why I would need to go to bed in a sitting position with the lights on and my pants still unremoved. Apparently, I usually have very good reasons, though I’ll never quite know them fully.
You know what, I just had an epiphany. It is completely ok for me to enjoy watching underage girls making out with each other. No worries there. And yes, I do realize I’m going to hell. I’ve come to terms with that.
So here’s hoping that you had a wonderful holiday season. I hope yours was packed with as much wonder and excitement as mine was. And always remember, just because the holidays are over, doesn’t mean you have to stop having a good time. Getting out and enjoying yourself is a year round affair as far as I’m concerned. As I always say: eat, drink, and be merry!
To figure out why I was hunched over my toilet praying to the porcelain gods at 9:30 in the AM, we need to rewind a bit to Monday. That’s right, New Years Day. I did not go out on New Years Eve, mainly due to the fact that I’m a huge loser. Personally I don’t consider myself a loser, but if you stay in New Years Eve and go to sleep nursing a cold you caught from your father while visiting the family for Christmas, then by default, you are a loser. And no, I’m not bitter at my dad for giving me his cold just in time for Christmas and New Years. Nope, not bitter one bit.
So here we are on Monday, January First. Or, as I always remember it, Company Holiday Party. We have our party a little bit later than most companies, but trust me, it’s totally worth it. The boys upstairs set up a nice dinner at a hotel, hand out usually five to six tickets for free drinks per person, and get the hotel to offer rooms at a discount for people attending the party. That last little part is especially nice, because after about three fourths of a bottle of bourbon I do not need to be getting anywhere near my car. And that’s something that I can’t stress enough, I drink good old fashioned American Whiskey. I buy domestic and thereby support the hardworking American.
So after a nice sit-down dinner of filet and shrimp (the filet was much better going down Monday than it was coming up Tuesday, trust me) I headed out to the hotel bar to start drinking with the rest of the alcoholics. Well, it wasn’t starting so much as it was continuing. I think I was the first person to show up before dinner so I could hang out at the bar, get the whiskey flowing, and watch some of the Rose Bowl (Unfortunately, I missed the Fiesta Bowl with Boise St. beating Oklahoma 43-42 in an overtime spectacular). Being there that early gave me the opportunity to talk the party organizers into giving me a few extra drink tickets. What can I say, I’m a sucker for free drinks. Now apparently after dinner, while I was at the bar, I missed my name being called out to receive a door prize (an Ipod, I think), so they gave it to someone else. I didn’t get an Ipod because I was busy drinking. C’est la vie. That’s pretty much the story of my life.
Do you mind if I take a break from my current storytelling to ask you a philosophical question? Is it ok to watch a 17 year old girl making out with a 19 year old girl? Or more importantly: Is it ok to enjoy watching a 17 year old girl making out another girl? And I ask for absolutely no reason whatsoever. …except for the fact that the previously mentioned event happened Monday night not three inches from my face. And truth be told, I enjoyed watching, very much so. That doesn’t make me a dirty old man, does it?
There’s a trick to drinking at the company holiday party. Well, there’s a trick at my company party at least. When everyone is hanging out at the bar after dinner, you’ll usually find me drinking with the general managers. Now why would I be spending my time with my bosses at a party where there’s underage female to female tongue action going on? Mainly, my bosses are almost as big of alcoholics as I am. And that’s saying something. So every time I see the big boys trying to decide what shot to order, I quietly slide on over and suggest Red-headed Sluts (Jager, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice). Because really, who doesn’t like red heads?
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Three fourths of a bottle of bourbon and several shots, I should probably not be surprised that I ended up getting sick. I mean, alcohol is not the healthiest of substances. Well, let me assure you that I have discovered, by means of my uncanny intellect and astounding analytical skills, that beyond any shadow of a doubt, it was the steak that made me sick, not the alcohol.
To be perfectly honest, alcohol and I go way back, especially whiskey. We’ve had a very long and fruitful friendship, and I am very reluctant to believe that alcohol would betray my trust like that and cause me to get ill. This is why I choose to believe it was the food at fault. Armed with that knowledge I can now go out this weekend and continue my relationship with alcohol unimpeded by any needless worries.
Luckily I had the foresight to make sure I didn’t have to go into work Tuesday. The last thing I need is to be working with a fragile stomach and light head. Well, actually, the last thing I need is group of ninja assassins stalking me at night. But the being sick at work thing is still pretty bad. I feel sorry for the guys who actually had to go in today. It must suck to be them.
Well, I think that’s pretty much the highlights of my night. I drank a lot of whiskey, watched some indiscretions, and took some shots. How many shots did I have? …no seriously, how many did I have? I don’t have a clue. And this seems like it might be relevant information taking into account the first sentence in this passage.
Although, I have to say, I am proud of myself. I made it to my room, all on my own, and got into my pajamas and into bed. That’s quite an accomplishment. Usually at one of these things, I wake up the next day sitting up in my bed, fully clothed (shoes and all), with the lights still on. I have no idea why I would need to go to bed in a sitting position with the lights on and my pants still unremoved. Apparently, I usually have very good reasons, though I’ll never quite know them fully.
You know what, I just had an epiphany. It is completely ok for me to enjoy watching underage girls making out with each other. No worries there. And yes, I do realize I’m going to hell. I’ve come to terms with that.
So here’s hoping that you had a wonderful holiday season. I hope yours was packed with as much wonder and excitement as mine was. And always remember, just because the holidays are over, doesn’t mean you have to stop having a good time. Getting out and enjoying yourself is a year round affair as far as I’m concerned. As I always say: eat, drink, and be merry!
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