Recently, I've had a few run-ins with the locals that have brought unnecessary amounts of stress on my already stressful life. I've taken it upon myself to start writing letters to these people in the hopes that they will accidentally stumble upon it while Googling "douche bags." Expect more of these in the future and feel free to send your own my way.
To Shrek/the man that forcefully stole our table at the bar,
Thank you for "blessing" us with your ogre-like charisma and lack of anger management the other night. No, really. I wanted my beer spilled on the table and my sleeve because it was so tasty I didn't think I could handle it all and was going to do that anyways. But you beat me to it, so thank you for that. Additionally, thank you for bringing us the stench of your 4 day marathon party shirt and your hat drenched with the ocean of sweat that naturally produces when someone is sitting doing nothing active whatsoever. That's a common problem, so I understand. And let me be the first to apologize. You and the other trolls were probably out for a night of drinking after terrorizing the villagers, and I almost ruined it for you. Tell them I'm sorry too. The next time I see you I'll bring you a baby to eat or a bag full of Big Macs or something (although you're probably sick of eating them EVERY day...) And I'm sorry we didn't fight. I know you were threatening it and everything, but I just wasn't in the mood and you are a lot bigger than me (actually you are a lot bigger than 95% of everyone.) But if it makes you feel any better, you probably would have got a few good shots in and impressed the 2% of girls that think cavemen are sexy. You really scared me slugger. Anyways, I hope we didn't get in your way too much, and I hope you enjoyed sitting at our table. Tell donkey I say hello.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
Cheating: The fastest route to hell
So I'm in my car this morning driving to work (actually more crawling to work; see the blog on me hating traffic below) and the morning show I was listening to was on the subject of cheating. Now I'm no expert in the matter, as I have absolutely no experience with cheating (unless you count Game Genie), but if I had to pick one thing I hate most in the world it would probably be cheating...and also spiders.
To be honest, I've never really understood the concept of cheating. I've definitely been caught up in my share of totally doable cheating opportunities (no pun intended), so if you're a cheater you can take your "you wouldn't know what it's like" argument and throw it in the garbage along with the rest of your ethically immoral excuses and probably dead puppies....murderer. I cherish my relationships as much as I cherish the first season of Full House (which surprisingly is saying a lot) and I don't need one moment of seized opportunity to screw it all up.
The one thing I will never understand is taking someone back after they cheat. If a person cheats on you it means they are capable of it. Even if they say they will never do it again, they are capable of it. And if they're capable of cheating, they're capable of other things...like rape and terrorism. That person deliberately and with conscious intent thought about your relationship and decided that a random physical act was worth more than your trust. They literally (figuratively) took a dump on your trust, then went ahead and did an entire river dance chorus on it when you took them back. And don't give me the other excuse of "everyone makes mistakes." A mistake is when you accidentally DVR Gilmore Girls or forget to carry the one in long division. Cheating on your partner is not a mistake.
A hypothetical friend for this story just said to me the other day "Aren't you being a little harsh? I mean you don't know every situation. Things change and sometimes shit happens." First of all, "shit happens" is a bumper sticker most commonly found on a pickup truck from the early nineties being driven by a guy wearing a confederate flag t-shirt and listening to "This is Our Country". Anything that can be found on a novelty t-shirt alongside the popular "Waaazup?!" probably shouldn't be passed off as a viable excuse. Second of all, it's true I don't know every situation that could ever happen in a world. But I for the life of me can not come up with a situation where the end results in a life-threatening struggle between cheating or death. Oh wait, that's because it doesn't exist. Although it would make for an interesting plot line for a straight-to-DVD movie starring Steven Seagal.
Cheat or Die: Fists of Justice
Kung fu aside, lets look at the facts. If someone were willing to cheat on their partner, they're not fully satisfied with the relationship. Like chicken nuggets with no sauce. The relationship isn't there. So why risk showing up on the (probably) award-winning show "Cheaters" looking like an idiot literally caught with his pants down, when you could just be single and make babies with everyone? I think I've made my point.
Moral of the story: Don't cheat or do drugs. Also, if you believe in yourself anything can happen...even magic.
To be honest, I've never really understood the concept of cheating. I've definitely been caught up in my share of totally doable cheating opportunities (no pun intended), so if you're a cheater you can take your "you wouldn't know what it's like" argument and throw it in the garbage along with the rest of your ethically immoral excuses and probably dead puppies....murderer. I cherish my relationships as much as I cherish the first season of Full House (which surprisingly is saying a lot) and I don't need one moment of seized opportunity to screw it all up.
The one thing I will never understand is taking someone back after they cheat. If a person cheats on you it means they are capable of it. Even if they say they will never do it again, they are capable of it. And if they're capable of cheating, they're capable of other things...like rape and terrorism. That person deliberately and with conscious intent thought about your relationship and decided that a random physical act was worth more than your trust. They literally (figuratively) took a dump on your trust, then went ahead and did an entire river dance chorus on it when you took them back. And don't give me the other excuse of "everyone makes mistakes." A mistake is when you accidentally DVR Gilmore Girls or forget to carry the one in long division. Cheating on your partner is not a mistake.
A hypothetical friend for this story just said to me the other day "Aren't you being a little harsh? I mean you don't know every situation. Things change and sometimes shit happens." First of all, "shit happens" is a bumper sticker most commonly found on a pickup truck from the early nineties being driven by a guy wearing a confederate flag t-shirt and listening to "This is Our Country". Anything that can be found on a novelty t-shirt alongside the popular "Waaazup?!" probably shouldn't be passed off as a viable excuse. Second of all, it's true I don't know every situation that could ever happen in a world. But I for the life of me can not come up with a situation where the end results in a life-threatening struggle between cheating or death. Oh wait, that's because it doesn't exist. Although it would make for an interesting plot line for a straight-to-DVD movie starring Steven Seagal.
Cheat or Die: Fists of JusticeKung fu aside, lets look at the facts. If someone were willing to cheat on their partner, they're not fully satisfied with the relationship. Like chicken nuggets with no sauce. The relationship isn't there. So why risk showing up on the (probably) award-winning show "Cheaters" looking like an idiot literally caught with his pants down, when you could just be single and make babies with everyone? I think I've made my point.
Moral of the story: Don't cheat or do drugs. Also, if you believe in yourself anything can happen...even magic.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Hip-pop: The Death of Music
Everyone has different opinions of good music. You might cherish Shaq's Greatest Hits (which unbelievably exists) whereas your neighbor, God forbid, might enjoy the musical styling of an inspirational Yanni album to compliment a self-choreographed interpretive dance sequence with all 15 of their cats (or whatever the hell else fans of Yanni do.) And while he may be, in your opinion, the best songwriter of this or any generation, being the founder and sole member of his Facebook group does not make it true.
The music industry has been on a downward spiral ever since the release of such gems as "Walk It Out" and "Party Like a Rockstar", which both make about as much sense as crowd surfing at an Air Supply concert. Don't get me wrong, I realize and appreciate the dance functionality of both songs/being able to safely dry hump a stranger's leg in a dark club, but both contain the equivalent musical charisma of an old drunk person shouting at passing cars. With this new trend in music (mixing a 3rd grade vocabulary with obscenities and going all night with sexual references) I'm afraid we're flirting with the Armageddon of music. And not the reassuring, "Ben Affleck and Bruce Willis hold hands and save us before the credits roll" Armageddon. I'm talking about the real thing.
Screenshot from Armageddon.
The music industry has been on a downward spiral ever since the release of such gems as "Walk It Out" and "Party Like a Rockstar", which both make about as much sense as crowd surfing at an Air Supply concert. Don't get me wrong, I realize and appreciate the dance functionality of both songs/being able to safely dry hump a stranger's leg in a dark club, but both contain the equivalent musical charisma of an old drunk person shouting at passing cars. With this new trend in music (mixing a 3rd grade vocabulary with obscenities and going all night with sexual references) I'm afraid we're flirting with the Armageddon of music. And not the reassuring, "Ben Affleck and Bruce Willis hold hands and save us before the credits roll" Armageddon. I'm talking about the real thing.
Screenshot from Armageddon.Don't you ever wonder why we've never really had another Led Zeppelin or Pink Flloyd in this generation? Or why James Taylor and Peter Frampton end up on cell phone and Geico commercials? It's not because people have stopped making good music. It's because good music is now defined by a society that favors mindless, emotion-free, mainstream pop over soulful, revolutionary, musical poetry. I personally don't want to grow up in a world where music classes teach "How to Properly Superman that Ho" and "Bitches and Hos: A History of Pimpin' That Ain't Easy".
The times are definitely changing and younger generations are changing with it. They're being told what to like by mass media (otherwise known as "The Man") and as the appreciation for music slowly waters itself down like an Ice Cube album at WalMart, we're forced to rethink our own appreciation for music. Because even though we still have a handful of rock and roll powerhouses staggering onto stages across the world, they are going to die someday (see Keith Richards) and all that will be left are DJ Unk and Soulja Boy. Can you imagine your sweet little angel faced kids calling THAT classic rock? Well I sir, cannot.
So the next time you're at a bar and hear one of the aforementioned piles of crap on the dance floor, close your eyes and try to imagine the artist and record label execs realistically brainstorming the idea of a song centered around "licking it like a lollipop". It really makes you question whether or not the record label execs are actually immature 2nd graders that still laugh at the word "poop" and make hand turkeys out of construction paper and the glue they just tried to eat. There's not a whole lot of creative juices flowing around that studio. If you don't believe me, check out the sheer poetry of the lyrics on Google. I can't post them here because of the flat-out vulgarity, but it's very similar to what I imagine a script looks like for a poorly directed adult film.
Now, if you'll excuse me I have to finish the song I've been working on for the past 15 minutes entitled "Who wants a footlong?"
Additionally, that's what she said.
The times are definitely changing and younger generations are changing with it. They're being told what to like by mass media (otherwise known as "The Man") and as the appreciation for music slowly waters itself down like an Ice Cube album at WalMart, we're forced to rethink our own appreciation for music. Because even though we still have a handful of rock and roll powerhouses staggering onto stages across the world, they are going to die someday (see Keith Richards) and all that will be left are DJ Unk and Soulja Boy. Can you imagine your sweet little angel faced kids calling THAT classic rock? Well I sir, cannot.
So the next time you're at a bar and hear one of the aforementioned piles of crap on the dance floor, close your eyes and try to imagine the artist and record label execs realistically brainstorming the idea of a song centered around "licking it like a lollipop". It really makes you question whether or not the record label execs are actually immature 2nd graders that still laugh at the word "poop" and make hand turkeys out of construction paper and the glue they just tried to eat. There's not a whole lot of creative juices flowing around that studio. If you don't believe me, check out the sheer poetry of the lyrics on Google. I can't post them here because of the flat-out vulgarity, but it's very similar to what I imagine a script looks like for a poorly directed adult film.
Now, if you'll excuse me I have to finish the song I've been working on for the past 15 minutes entitled "Who wants a footlong?"
Additionally, that's what she said.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Traffic makes angry an understatement
Since I've moved to Chicago, I've been presented with the unfortunate punch in the rectum we call commuting. Conversations recently for me have unraveled something like this:
Person: So you commute every morning? I'll bet that sucks. What's it like?
Me: It's like watching the movie Gigli in slow motion while the person you hate most in the world shreds all the money in your bank account and makes out with the girl you love, all the while sitting on a bonfire with gasoline pants on.
Person: I like Gigli.
Me: You're a dick.
Traffic.
No matter how many people pose the question "What causes traffic?" I have yet to hear an answer that doesn't piss me off even more. Really, if it were any logical answer, I would probably still be upset, but I would accept it. Even if someone were to say "Well, every weekday the magical asshole fairy frolics to each interstate, dropping an unnecessary amount of cars and terrible drivers across the land. And just to add sprinkles to the turd, he tops it all off with tolls, the occasional fender bender, and construction, racking on an additional fortnight's time to get home." Not cool magical asshole fairy. Not cool.
But alas, I am left to deal with this corporal punishment and watch my restraint for road rage fly out of the window (at a stop-and-go pace of less than 3 mph.) And with all of my experience in the field, I have come to the conclusion that there are basically three types of people that occupy the road today:
1. The "Lemming"- This type of driver will only switch lanes or move when the person in front of them switches lanes or moves. The driver develops an imaginary bond with the dominant car similar to that of Frodo and Samwise Gamgee. "I made a promise Mr. Frodo to never keep you out of my sight, and I don't intend to break that promise." Don't be Samwise...he's a passive sidekick that played Rudy. Never forget that.
2. The "Bluetooth Douche"- This type of driver loses all possibility of retaining rationality as soon as the engine starts. A rush hour commute for a person of this type is like playing a game of Frogger for the right to keep their first-born son. Although rare, a certain variation of this type does exist without the presence of a Bluetooth headset, but its almost as rare as a clown without the creepy.
3. The "What Would Jesus Do?"- This type of driver is the most scarce and is on the verge of extinction. Generally seen leaving occasional gaps for drivers to switch lanes and waving when someone lets them into the flow, this elusive driver has been sought out by protection agencies for years, but is slowly being killed off by the predatory Bluetooth Douches. The protection of this endangered group is eminent in keeping a small margin of quickly depleting sanity in the atmosphere.
So the next time you raise your middle finger in traffic or break your hands hitting the steering wheel, think about which category you fall under. Get yourself a WWJD bracelet if you need to. Because if you're on the fence about whether or not you're helping or hurting, than you're definitely hurting. Now stop reading this and go get yourself a Bluetooth headset.
Person: So you commute every morning? I'll bet that sucks. What's it like?
Me: It's like watching the movie Gigli in slow motion while the person you hate most in the world shreds all the money in your bank account and makes out with the girl you love, all the while sitting on a bonfire with gasoline pants on.
Person: I like Gigli.
Me: You're a dick.
Traffic.No matter how many people pose the question "What causes traffic?" I have yet to hear an answer that doesn't piss me off even more. Really, if it were any logical answer, I would probably still be upset, but I would accept it. Even if someone were to say "Well, every weekday the magical asshole fairy frolics to each interstate, dropping an unnecessary amount of cars and terrible drivers across the land. And just to add sprinkles to the turd, he tops it all off with tolls, the occasional fender bender, and construction, racking on an additional fortnight's time to get home." Not cool magical asshole fairy. Not cool.
But alas, I am left to deal with this corporal punishment and watch my restraint for road rage fly out of the window (at a stop-and-go pace of less than 3 mph.) And with all of my experience in the field, I have come to the conclusion that there are basically three types of people that occupy the road today:
1. The "Lemming"- This type of driver will only switch lanes or move when the person in front of them switches lanes or moves. The driver develops an imaginary bond with the dominant car similar to that of Frodo and Samwise Gamgee. "I made a promise Mr. Frodo to never keep you out of my sight, and I don't intend to break that promise." Don't be Samwise...he's a passive sidekick that played Rudy. Never forget that.
2. The "Bluetooth Douche"- This type of driver loses all possibility of retaining rationality as soon as the engine starts. A rush hour commute for a person of this type is like playing a game of Frogger for the right to keep their first-born son. Although rare, a certain variation of this type does exist without the presence of a Bluetooth headset, but its almost as rare as a clown without the creepy.
3. The "What Would Jesus Do?"- This type of driver is the most scarce and is on the verge of extinction. Generally seen leaving occasional gaps for drivers to switch lanes and waving when someone lets them into the flow, this elusive driver has been sought out by protection agencies for years, but is slowly being killed off by the predatory Bluetooth Douches. The protection of this endangered group is eminent in keeping a small margin of quickly depleting sanity in the atmosphere.
So the next time you raise your middle finger in traffic or break your hands hitting the steering wheel, think about which category you fall under. Get yourself a WWJD bracelet if you need to. Because if you're on the fence about whether or not you're helping or hurting, than you're definitely hurting. Now stop reading this and go get yourself a Bluetooth headset.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Introduction
I'm a pretty passive person by nature, but many of you that know me also know that I can get fired up when something really grinds my gears. I know what you're thinking...what could I possibly get upset about? Truthfully, a lot of things. Here is a small sampling: Hummers, drunk people that say "I'm not drunk", the villain from the movie "The Patriot" (if you don't agree with me than you're not American), and any song written by Dashboard Confessional (if you're thinking "Hey that's not fair, DC is a great band", than you're obviously a registered douche bag that should be stabbed with a spoon.) So I decided to start an uncensored blog that would allow me to vent on what really pisses me off and lately, the list has been growing.
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