Cleveland

Start off with a wonderful video.



Oh Clevelandtown. I hate to say it, and it kills me to do so... but I think I may be allergic to you. You see, I was in your presence this past weekend and ever since I got into the realm of, as they say, "The Clev", I have had massive amounts of congestion and migraines. I am not sick, let's get this straight. I rarely get sick and I know when I am. This is not it. So it has to be some sort of allergy... no other explanation.

Maybe it was the crippling depression.

I mean, honestly, there was NO ONE out at night. I couldn't believe it. I asked Cody, one of my good friends I was with at the time, "are you sure this is a major city"? Because I swear to you, there was literally not a soul on the streets. I was perplexed. Actually I don't know if I was perplexed by that or the fact that I wasn't sure why my head was pounding ALL DAY LONG...

Or maybe it was the constant badgering I took the night before. The first night I felt fine but a lot of things happened that may have lead to these things happening. How about when I beat some girl at darts and she called me an ass. Or how about the girl that was wearing a stripped maroon and yellow sweater who called me a dick for saying she looked like Harry Potter. Or how about the guy who got pissed at me for saying "let's go Steelers" because he was wearing a Pitt hat. Like literally angry. It didn't make any sense. Or how about the angry random black guy who was honestly confused by the fact that I ordered rye toast at a diner... or dinor depending on which side of Lake Erie you are from. Why it was any business of that man's I have no idea but I obliged him by convincing him I was Jewish. A man at the next table even said Salome to me as I was leaving. So in a matter of one night, I was called ass, dick, dick, and Jew. A pretty good accomplishment if I do say so myself. But maybe I am having these headaches from the mental anguish I was put through. I doubt it.

Or maybe it is from that punching bag game I tried to conquer. For those of you who don't know, a lot of bars now adays have these games where burly manly men pay anywhere from 50 cents to a dollar to punch this punching bag as hard as they can. It then measures how hard you punch it. Then other men try and you mock them by how weak they are. You know, good old wholesome fun. Well, being as awesome as I am, I tried this with little effectiveness. Unbeknownst to me, and without having much liquor in my system, I was standing much to close to the machine. I reared back, and wailed on the bag as hard as I could. It looked a lot more majestic then it actually was... being that my follow through was met by a brick wall. Immediately all five of my knuckles on my right hand start bleeding and swelling. It hurt SO BAD. Luckily I didn't break anything but it still hurt like hell. Maybe it is because of that. But I don't think.

So sooooooomething had to have done it. Something had to have latched onto me and is effecting me in such a way that I cant even stand it anymore. Any suggestions? Because I have no idea. It's probably the river water. Haven't you heard? All of Cleveland's fish have aids.



The End

Well I guess that time has come everyone. The world is going to end tomorrow and there is nothing we can do about it. I am going to be spending my last days on this earth doing something I don't give a crap about. Well, actually, I guess those idiotic tribesmen really didn't give a time of day, really. It could happen while I am sleeping, while I am at that job I just spoke of, or it could be later that evening while I am all dulled up celebrating with friends. Not one person knows when this is going to happen. Which reminds me... it isn't going to happen.

If you people actually think some pack of wild men who just so happened to know how to stack some rocks in a triangular formation also knew how to predict the end of this planet, then you should have probably died as idiotic and comically as they did. In fact, let me check my watch... According to my watch, at the time I am writing this blog post, it has been 12-21-12 in New Zealand for almost an hour now. No end of the world yet. Maybe it needs to be Easter Standard Time. Were those savages able to differentiate time zones? I mean, surely they would be able to. They are still thriving... oh wait, no... they weren't even smart enough to stay alive for more than 650 years(ish).

I mean honestly, who believes this crap. For fuck sake. Look how these people dressed. Do I need to say anything more? Oi vey.



The man looks like a true genius. 

Bathroom Fun tip #1

I have come up with many things to do while in the bathroom. You know, to keep yourself occupied from the monotonous duties that occur while you are in there of course... I mean honestly, how boring can it get in there? Well that was before the wonderful invention of Kindles and Smart Phones of course. But I still stick with my guns. I go old school. I have more of these to come by the way... hence the #1 in the title...

Tip #1

Eroding Urinal Cakes

First of all, do women even know what a urinal cake is? I would assume so. This is sort of common knowledge isn't it? But if you don't, here is a flattering picture of one.

When you are a man and you have a penis, it is kind of easy to aim it at things. Thus, when you pee, you can aim the stream at things and hit them with it or even create little designs when you pee in snow. I have, on multiple occasions, wrote my name in cursive while peeing in snow. What man hasn't?  So, as you can see, it is very easy to get carried away with the possibilities. One of my personal favorite pisstimes however is my first bathroom fun tip... It is like Christmas morning when I see a fresh urinal cake. So fresh, so vibrant, so pink. Fortunately for me, my place of employment puts urinal cakes in. So I have multiple chances at honing my craft. Go ahead men. Try it. Take aim at a new urinal cake and see what happens. You will be surprised how long it takes to do it. There are few things better than the feeling of eroding away a chunk off of a urinal cake after days of aiming and pissing. But let ye be warned... the Ghostbusters were right. Don't you dare cross the streams. Not only is is unethical, it is cheating every person who ever tried eroding away a cake. Do it on your own time. I mean, if you are into that kind of thing.

Pissing Contest

I am sorry I am writing about baseball again but I can't help it. Today, the Los Angeles Angels (of Aneheim) signed the top free agent on the market. The numbers are not out there yet for the free world to vomit at, but I assure you, I bet it is five years for at least a trillion dollars. I am obviously exagerating, but you get my point. Now with the recent events going on in the Dodgers organization, I often wonder if these two owners are just trying to make their dicks look bigger than the other owners. I can see it now...

Angels owner Art Mereno

Dodgers partial owner Magic Johnson... and his response.

Hey Chipper!

I am a sucker for celebrity gossip. I have no idea why and I never will. Why should I care about these people who I have nothing to do with besides watching them on a screen? Well in case of athletes, it is kind of the same thing except sometimes I watch them in the flesh. But I saw a news story today that literally blew my mind... well actually just reassured a fact that men have been trying to prove for ages.

First off, I know for a fact that a lot... and I can't stress enough that I just said A LOT, not ALL... of women only date or marry a man because of their wealth. Any woman who puts themselves in a situation where they are questioned about why they are with that person should suck it up and say it because let's face it, it's true. Any woman in that situation that says otherwise is a fucking liar. Plain and simple. The "celebrity" I am referring to in this case is non other than Larry Wayne Jones himself. Or for those of you who have no idea who that is, lets go by his outlandish, not really sure why the hell he was ever called this in the first place, alias, Chipper Jones. There may be a story behind him being called Chipper, but to be honest, I don't give a rats ass.

That is right, everyone's favorite former third basemen of the Atlanta Braves. Not only is he future hall of fame player, which is impressive in it's own right, but he has millions, upon millions, upon millions of dollars. Before I reveal why I am actually writing this blog post, let me fill you in on a bit of Chipper's past personal life. I found out from this article that on November 16th, he finalized his divorce with his now ex wife Sharon Logonov. Turns out this was actually not his first time on the merry go round. He apparently was divorced once before with a woman named Karin Fulford in 1998 because he had an 18 month affair with a Hooter's waitress, which by the way produced a son. Not only this, he is an avid hunter, who has his own hunting television show. So let me get this straight. He has been divorced twice by gorgeous women because he was an ass, he kills animals constantly, and he has the worst beard in the history of the world? If this guy isn't the consistency of ass bag, I have no idea who is.

But back to current times here. Apparently, immediately after getting divorced, he started dating a Playboy model by the name of  Lexi Ray Taylor.

If you don't think this was going on for a while, then you are an imbecile. At this point in time, Chipper Jones is 40 years old going on 41. This blond bombshell is no more than 25 years old. Not only that, she surely realizes his reputation with women at this point. I mean, am I wrong in saying this? The man is a giant womanizer. He has been married to two women already only to screw it up, literally and figuratively. How could a woman as good looking as miss Taylor be interested in him? I mean it isn't like he is a good looking guy. It looks like his face was hit with a frying pan.

Isn't it obvious people? The man is a complete tool, he objectifies women, and he acts like 90% of the men in Fayette County. Why else would that gorgeous woman be dating Chipper Jones? The conversation? I bet that is enthralling. No... it's all about the cash. Plain and simple.

Keys to the City

Hey great news everybody! Usually something as prestigious as getting the keys to a city is due to something that was done by a certain someone that is very special or noteworthy. Hell even heroism falls under that category. But guess who got the keys to the city of North Miami recently? These assclowns.



Well, things are looking up for me I guess. If they can do something noteworthy and get recognition for it, I guess anyone can. I mean, besides the fact that the two on the outside are basically riding the coat tails of their incredibly attractive sister Kim, what else have they done? By the way, I do in fact know their names, I am just saying "the one on the left and right" to illustrate how unimportant they are. Hell, so is Kim as a matter of fact, but she has nice cans, so at least she has SOMETHING going for her.

So I say to you, mayor of North Miami. I have done many things in my life that, apparently, make me worthy for the same keys you gave the Kardashian clan. Let me enlighten you, sir. Do you remember the time I once walked down the street? That was pretty memorable. How about that one time I went to the grocery store and bought some eggplant. Priceless. Wait one second, I forgot about that one thing that happened to me. This one time I got in my car and drove to work. Then I worked for eight hours and came home. What a crazy day.

Noteworthy enough? Hmm? Let me know. I would like to throw a set of keys to Miami on my key ring. Never know when I may need them.

Florida

 Let me get this out in the open first and foremost... I don't give two shits about politics. I do not vote and to be honest I really don't care who the President is. But with that in mind, I still see the news, I still see who is winning the election, and I know what is going on. I have a pulse. And trust me, this blog post is not going to be anything about politics because I am not obligated to share my opinion. Why do I not vote? For a couple of reasons actually. Not only do I think, like probably every other person who does not vote, that my vote does not matter for anything, but it would honestly just be an uninformed push of a button. I know nothing about politics. It confuses me, it pisses me off, and I do not have time in my life for it. With that in mind, I would like to know one thing…

I have been alive for seven Presidential elections. Four or five of those I can actually remember being that in 1988 I was two years old and 1992 I was six. I don't remember ANYTHING at all besides who won most of them. That has obviously changed during that last couple but you get the point. But the single most annoying thing I can remember from the elections is this…

 

That is right everyone, Florida... AKA America's Penis. I swear they are always the only freaking state to cause any problems. Everyone remembers the whole "hanging chad" incident for God sake. But not only that, why are they the only state who can't tally their votes on time? I could MAYBE understand it 4-8 years ago being that nothing was digital, but now? I don't think so. It should literally take a matter of minutes to tally votes. But here we are, nearly 12 hours later, and Florida is still not confirmed. I understand, the President has already won, but honestly it is a joke.

I would love to see what they are doing down there. In my imagination it is a bunch of old people walking around trying to figure out how to do things looking like this...





or this...

or this...

or...

or maybe even...

Like seriously, what are they doing? What the hell is so hard to tally up a few freaking votes and send the information in? My God, California literally doubles you in population. They had their results in within an hour. AN HOUR! And that is technically four hours after you, Florida.

It is now 10am, and you have yet to determine a winner according to MSN.com. Get your shit together you old, stupid, and grossly humid state. The only good thing about you is Disney World. 

Congratulations to Obama though. At least he beat out that cocky looking ass clown Mitt. Who the hell calls their child Mitt anyway?

A day that will live in...

26 years ago today, a miracle happened. Something that would change the world forever. This...

Once upon a time...

Being that most of my clients at work are from the New Jersey/ New York area, I was kind of bored at work this past week. Trying to figure out what to do with my time, I suggested to one of my co-workers that we write a story. The rules were we write two sentences and pass it on. I hope you enjoy what we came up with. By the way, a lot of the things mentioned in our story have to do with our job. So if you do not understand, such as the character Ecru is a color of paper, just look it up or ask. Enjoy!


    

Once upon a time there was a man named Carlsbad. Carlsbad, though highly touted with many honors and riches, was not your normal teenage boy. Being the eldest of his many brothers, he was bound by duty to carry on the family name by being wed to a lady of another fine house and producing offspring. But in reality, Carlsbad really just wanted to dance. You see, dance is the national sport in the land of Envelopia, and Carlsbad had mad skills. His moves were known for miles around as he brought champions to their knees with his patented move, the Charleston. Carlsbad dreamed of a carefree life full of dance and music, but the reality of his situation was starting to sink in. His 21^st birthday was drawing near and therefore the date of his arranged marriage to Lady Penelope of House Baronial.

Lady Penelope had long platinum blond hair and stunningly distinct features. Her hair, almost a warm white, and her gorgeous features would have made any man swoon after her… But Carlsbad was her one and only.

Because they were betrothed at a very young age, Penelope and Carlsbad had met on many occasions at formal functions through the years. She was madly in love with him but harbored a deep secret that kept her lying awake at night with worry and dread that Carlsbad could never love her because, alas, she could not dance. This deep, dwindling, and treacherous secret has harbored many long nights for Penelope being that she was kept awake into the wee hours of the morning. She could not take the pain of what she thought would be the forthcoming disappointment of her newfound friend, lover, and soon to be husband.. Penelope had heard rumors about a witch that lived in the enchanted forest of Cordenons that would mix potions and cast spells for a price. She set about trying to find out if these rumors were true as she planned to ask the witch to cast a spell on her that would allow her to dance beautifully and therefore forever win the love of Carlsbad.

The journey was one of deep mystery and enchantment, and to be honest one that Penelope did not want to travel alone. “Whom shall I request to accompany me on this journey of passion and fulfillment” Penelope asked with a gleam in her eye. With little hesitation she decided to ask her most trusted companion and Lady in Waiting, Neenah of House Ecru. Although Ecru was a lesser House than Baronial and Neenah was technically a servant, they had grown to be the closest of friends over the years. Ecru, a mute in personality but not in heart, mundanely obliged with a swift shrug of the shoulders, and her and Penelope were now off on the journey of a lifetime. “What if we get there and the witch is out of potion, Ecru? What shall we do then” Penelope said.  Ecru, unable to speak but fluent in sign language (a handy thing to know in the least), rapidly signed that if the witch was out of potion that there was an Arthur Murray dance studio that recently opened up in town. Penelope did not find the statement humorous, huffed and expressed disdain at Ecru’s attempted joke. After misunderstanding Ecru’s impression of a bird as sign language for “I need to get my prostate examined”, Penelope was oddly disgusted and confused, while Ecru was offended by the fact that her spot on impression of a swallow was not embraced by her friend. But alas, the trip was much shorter than they thought, as they come across a bargain basement witches hut called “Gamma Green’s- You Get What You Pay For- Confectionary”. They eagerly entered the establishment with the highest of hopes but to their dismay, discovered that Gamma Green’s only accepted Diners Club credit cards and first born children of newly married couples. Ecru urged Lady Penelope to leave as quickly as possible but before they could get to the door they were approached by a salesman by the name of Speckletone, who was known for his ability to talk anyone into a sale.

Speckletone, notorious for his smooth talking, wooed the girls into submission complementing them on their dimples and hourglass figures. “Shall I interest you lovely ladies in some tonics for your sharp minds, beautifully shaped figures, or sultry souls” Speckle poked.

Ecru was especially taken with Speckeltone and was about to agree to purchase a potion that would make her eyebrows blue when Penelope suddenly remembered the purpose of their visit. “STOP!” she screamed “We came for a dance potion and a dance potion only, now what is the price?”

“The price is what you seek yet you are so demanding… you must cool your jets before we talk numbers” Speckletone stated. And in an instant, before either Penelope or Ecru could get a word in, Speckletone was sprinting away as fast as any man had ever ran (he used a fast potion) saying “you, my dear, have an attitude problem. Maybe I will see you again some day.”

They left the shop with heavy hearts and little hope for Penelope’s future. Suddenly, from around the corner, stepped a shady looking fellow in a blue trench coat who asked “Wanna buy a Rolex?” Not really knowing what a Rolex was, the ladies were taken aback by the miscreant in the dirty trench coat. “What are you looking to buy, a Rolex?” asked the miscreant, whose voice sounded very familiar to Penelope. Being distraught and desperate she explained her plight to the man in the trench coat. He raised an eyebrow as he listened and grinned a sly grin before responding. Penelope’s heart sank because her secret was now out! As she stared into the face of her future husband she noticed that his left eye was green and his right eye was blue which indicated that this was not Carlsbad but was Marlsbad, his younger twin brother!

Marlsbad, though looking maniacal in his blue cloak, he is nothing but a gigantic softy. “Hey girls, I was just worried about you since you weren’t around for a couple of hours. My brother sent me, being that he is dancing his balls off for the king. Honestly, I just wanted to make surealright and to say hey” exclaimed Marlsbad. What he forgot to inform them was that even though he was taking online courses on potions, he wasn’t very good at it since not one person was actually there to supervise his potions. Penelope and Ecru should have known better when they witnessed him make some sort of concoction at Ye Olde Taco Belle including Pepsi, Sierra Mist, and Bahama Blast. But they ignored their inner warnings and let him delicately sprinkle his concoction onto Penelope’s feet. Her feet immediately started to move to the rhythm of the song that was playing at the time (One Republic’s Good Life). How in God’s name any person could ever dance to the awful offbeat rhythms of that song is beyond this storytellers grasp, but yet she did. She danced, and danced, and danced until eventually she slipped on some taco meat that was negligently left on the floor.

Later, as the doctor explained that her leg had been so severely broken that she would never walk again without assistance, she wept at the fact that her dream was achieved and smashed all in the same day. Carlsbad then rushed through the door, having heard of her misfortune.” My dearest darling Penelope, I heard what happened from your messenger pigeon and I came waltzing down the street as fast as I possibly could” Carlsbad pleaded. The look in Penelopes eyes was one of worry yet sadness for what had happened… She couldn’t help but worry about breaking the news to the one she loved. She recounted the entire ordeal to Carlsbad, who was amazed at the lengths that Penelope gone to just to make him happy. He exclaimed “I love thee Lady Penelope, whether you can dance or not, I love the with all of my heart!” Ecru, witnessing the whole ordeal, and of course being the way she is, could not express what she was feeling for the two of them. “Will you still love me as a paraplegic who can’t dance? For that is what I shall be till the end of days.” Penelope asked. Carlsbad exclaimed “Yes, I shall love you until the end of our days.” At the same time Marlsbad expressed his secret love for Ecru, who using sign language, told Marlsbad that she loved him as well.… or at least we think that is what she said. And thus, a few short months later, the two wed in the most beautiful and illustrious wedding one has ever witnessed. Words can not describe the monstrous size of everything about the wedding, for bigger is, in fact, better.

And they lived happily ever after. Until a giant meteorite annihilated the entire kingdom.

Just kidding everything was swell.

Really?

They are making three new Star Wars movies. Is this real life?



His shirt and face say everything that needs to be said. That is all.

Being sick

Well folks, it has finally happened. I am now a Mac man. Not by choice, really, but out of necessity. I will now pause for a few moments so you all can get your smart ass hipster comments out of the way Go ahead… You good now? Good. Anyways, this is the first blog post I will be writing from a Mac and I just wanted to take it for a little test run. Why have I converted to Mac you ask? For one simple reason actually, you get what you pay for. Since college, I have been though three PC laptops, all of which were over $500. And though I loved my first and third laptops, a lifespan of 2.3 years per computer is a downright travesty. Thus, here I am $1200 in the can but with a computer that will last me 10-15 years. That, my friends, is the opposite of a travesty. Let’s just take a look at the numbers. If I were to go on the same pace I was on, I spent, if my memory serves me correctly, about $1800 total on all three of my computers in those seven years. And lets just say my Mac will last me 14 years like the good people who sold me said it would. That would mean in the in those 14 years I would have spent a total of $3600 where I should have just bit the bullet and got a Mac in the first place. I will be saving money in the long run folks. And isn’t that what life is all about?

But now to the real issue of the day… Hey, if you haven’t heard, I God damn hate my job. For many reasons I have already discussed and for many reasons yet divulged, one more can be stacked onto the ever growing pile of unimaginable proportions. This time is much different than the others though, hence why I am writing about it. We had a meeting with all of the people whom work in my department the other day. We have these meetings from time to time for bullshit reasons such as being a moral booster or maybe just talking about current issues and current changes in procedure. This particular meeting was of the later. There was a change being made by HR in the way you have to call off because of illness. Instead of just calling off because you are sick, you now have to let them know 48 hours in advance of you becoming ill…. Let me say that again because I don’t think you quite understand how outlandish this is. YOU MUST SCHEDULE SICK TIME 48 F’ING HOURS BEFORE BECOMING ILL! HUH?!?

Honestly, I would just like someone to explain to me who thought that was a good idea. How did this procedure even come into play? And really, what is this even accomplishing? It may deter people from calling off a little less, but I doubt it. People are still going to call off and you know it. But I understand how this is going to work. I don’t ever get sick for Christ sake. Ever. So what does this matter to me? In fact, I think I am going to come down with dysentery in late January of 2013.

 I don’t know, lets say February 23^rd. What the hell, that seems accurate to me. Oh, I would also like to schedule December 20^th off because I am planning on getting a third degree burn. And before I forget, I think I am going to come down with a bad case of the sniffles on January 3^rd. So I am going to call off those days due to those reasons. Thank you for not making any sense HR department.

The only thing I could possibly compare this to is the time, and I wrote about this in my book, that I worked at Crapplebees. This is the only time I was so flabbergasted by a rule and what they did to me that I actually laughed in front of management. I was standing there taking an order from a table and all of a sudden I sneezed. Yes, I did what any normal person would do in the situation… cover their nose with their hand. It did not even cross my mind that this was against company policy and I literally got written up for covering my mouth. Their reasoning? I should have covered with my arm/ elbow. Yes, because people can make literal split second decisions of what part of their body is going to cover their snot from flying on a customer. Outrageous. This is EXACTLY why I hate working for a company. None of their policies make any God damn sense.

You know what job, I think I am going to have to call off this coming Monday, the fifth of November. Not only is it my birthday, but I will have a gigantic case of the Monday’s. While you are at it, let me take off Tuesday too. I think while resting from my case of the Monday’s, I will contract a terrible case of I don’t give a damns.

You see that? That's me not giving a damn. 

Groupon

I go on Groupon literally everyday. I usually come out thinking, man that would be a good deal if I needed a good massage or something. But, I usually don't. This is what I saw on todays Groupon page...

Pennsylvania TEEN driving? Hog swallow. With that girl at the helm, it's more like Pennsylvania TWENTEEN driving. I know these days, and I have had this conversation with many male friends of mine, you can't tell the difference between a 16 year old and a 22 year old... but if that girl is a teen I will eat my ass.

Bitch

I know you, my adoring fans and confidants, have not heard from me in quite a while. For that I apologize. But my life has been nothing but busy the past two months or so. Just to give you all an update, if you really care, I now am dating a wonderful girl, I FINALLY hit my first weight goal going below 200 pounds, and I am still working the same incredibly mundane job I did two months ago. But I digress. Let’s get into the completely random issues that have been on my mind lately…

I was always one to think that insanity is something you were born with, not something you formed over time. But I will tell you, from experience, I am becoming a little angrier, a little more aggressive, and even a bit loopier everyday.

For example… Let’s take into consideration that I have been on this earth for almost 26 years and it is still a mystery why eggs give me a massive amount of discomfort after I eat them… if you know what I mean. Yet I still eat them consistently knowing I am going to be a miserable fool for the next eight hours or so. Now I know what you are thinking. Why is he telling me this right now? Well, if we can’t laugh about the inequities of life, what can we laugh at? I mean honestly, I will tell you the two things that give me the most discomfort after ingesting them…

1) The before mentioned eggs

2) Delicious delicious chocolate milk

Here is a simple equation for you. 

Why in God’s name do two of the most delicious things on planet earth have to make me feel like Jupiter? It is a mystery ladies and germs. But this makes me a little upset.

I would also like to think that the powers that be have a little sense of humor over our daily activities. Just the little things that happen to me way too often that really shouldn't.  You know, things that would make a gambler pull their hair out. What kind of things am I talking about? How about something that honestly is a daily struggle for me, my keys. Every single time I leave my house I have a ton of shit in my hands and my keys are in my pocket. My keys being in my pocket is not the problem here. Transferring everything over to one side of my body and then reaching in the wrong pocket for my keys, every single time, is. It is literally one of the most frustrating things in the world. You may think I am exaggerating but seriously I’m not. I literally choose the wrong pocket every single time. I could not even tell you the last time I chose correctly. It happened again this morning, it will happen tomorrow, and the next day as well, it’s just something that happens. It’s a 50-50 shot, and I always get the losing end of it the stick. And people wonder why I never go gamble. I can’t even choose the right pocket in which my keys are in. And God, don’t even mention when it gets cold out. Then I have four pockets to choose from. Virtually impossible. And I thought getting a good job was hard.

Speaking of jobs… Like I said, I am still working the same job as I was about two months ago despite having been searching high and low for any full time job that will pay me more than what I currently make. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; I would shovel elephant shit all day long for $20/hr at this point. I went into college thinking I wanted to do something I enjoyed, hell even love. But that is not the reality these days. You have to look at it fiscally, not physically. You can learn to love a job. And I don’t care what anyone says, money buys happiness. And to be honest, I wouldn’t HATE my current job if I got paid more. We do waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much for the amount we make and I literally couldn’t care less about the business I am in. I honestly think it will be an irrelevant business in 10-15 years from now, and you would probably agree with me if you knew what I did for a living. But what really grinds my gears about that damn job is the fact that I swear they do everything ass backwards. Say, for example, you worked at a burger joint and you were on grill. Instead of flipping patties with a spatula, they made you flip burgers with a pair of damn chop sticks. Or maybe if you worked in IT at some company and instead of updating their operating systems, they made you downgrade everything to a Tandy computer. Neither of those things would make sense. And neither does anything I have to do. Not only that, there is some sort of major overhaul in the way we do things literally every other day. And they expect you to remember EVERYTHING without fail… or else. Please, someone open up a circus near me so I can shovel shit all day long. It is my dream job at this point. 

On another driving note, this drives me a little batty too. Pun totally intended by the way… But I would honestly say eight out of ten times I go around a sharp bend there is another car on the other side of the road with me. This wouldn't be such a big deal for normal drivers… you know, who drive safely and probably go the speed limit. But I am neither of those drivers. I got shit to do, I got places to be, people know me. You think I can drive the speed limit? Na. That’s not my style, baby. I like to speed, what can I say? But it always seems like there is some Sunday funday old ass driver on the other si… well sort of other side of the road and I have to dodge them to get out of the way. Picture me on the back roads of Pennsylvania, roads built in such curved shapes that not one person could even imagine why anyone would ever do it that way, and going about 20 mph over the speed limit around this corner. Its suicidal at best. If anyone has ever driven through Vanderbilt, they would understand exactly what I mean. I couldn't even make these numbers up. Ask anyone who has driven with me because I mention it. Literally, eight out of ten. It never fails.

Something else that never fails to piss me off, have you heard about this presidential election lately? Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than talking politics. Not because of the state of the country or whatever, but because I know absolutely diddly squat about politics. Don’t get me wrong, I watched the debates and I have been paying attention. But no matter how much I watch it is like nothing sinks in. Why is this? Because I could give two shits, that’s why. No matter what happens and no matter who wins this election the same shit is going to happen. No one will like them and they will spend more money that the country doesn't have. It just keeps happening. The only people who care are these mindless drones who follow their “party” like mindless drones and they honestly think that their representative is better than the other. If I voted, and I cant stress enough that I don’t, you know what I would base my vote on? Pure gut feeling. Like I said, I watched the debates and I saw both Romney and Obama duke it out over issues that plague the nation at this present time and you know what I saw? Obama is the same calm, cool, and collected dude that I saw and heard for the first time almost four years ago. Four years ago I cared even less about politics when a group of black students got in my face and yelled “THIS IS OUR PRESIDENT, NOT YOURS!” They were like a clique of toddlers not willing to share their apple sauce or something. I was like, ok I guess? But time heals so I am about at the level of caring as I did before that incident. Like I said, Obama is calm and collected and I actually listen when he speaks. He seems like a reputable person. You can tell when people are dicks, and he doesn't seem like one. On the other hand, Romney just seems like an arrogant ass clown. Like legit, he always has that smug damn look on his face that I just want to punch.

 Not only that, he pulls numbers out of his ass and spouts them off and expects everyone to believe what he is saying. Seriously, I kept asking myself, how in God’s name does he come up with these numbers. They were just stupid ass numbers like “when I was governor, 67% of children increased their math scores because of me” or “when you were President, 47.8% of people went to 7-11 and got a slurpee.” Where the hell does he get that shit? I just see him as an arrogant prick, to be honest. And to be frank, I just want this crap to be over so I don’t have to hear it anymore. I hate politics.

After reading this over, I realized none of this has anything to do with each other besides it being one giant rant. All of those things actually drive me a little mental, I am not going to beat around the bush. But I guess that is life. Obladi oblada, eh? Hakuna Matata, eh? Or insert any other movie phrase referring to life goes on and you shouldn’t give a damn. Maybe that is what I needed to do at this point, just get shit off my chest… or should I say elephant shit.

The Key To Health

The way I eat and the reason I stay healthy. Hey, there has to be a reason I never get sick, right? 

I am back...

First off I would like to apologize to my avid readers. I haven't posted in about a month and for this I am deeply sorry. But to be honest I really have not had anything to complain about recently. I mean, there was that shooting a couple weeks ago from that guy that was literally out of his gourd. I got dumped once again by a girl who wanted to be in an "open relationship"... whatever the hell that is... Oh, and I got fired from my second job. Yeah all awesome things in the world of Greg Jackson. But to be honest, as much as those first two things sucked, I just cant get past the third and final bad thing that happened to me this month.

You see, being that I have a masters degree, and yes I am complaining about this again, it only makes sense that I would need to go out and find a second job. You know, this is why us graduates work so fucking hard, so we have to go find a couple degrading jobs just to pay our bills. But like I always say, obladi oblada. So, I go out and get hired at a local sports bar to serve on weekends. You know the typical 6-8 hour serving job that everyone and their mother has had at some point in their lives. I am not gonna lie, I was kind of excited about it. Being that I have been to this place a lot, I know it is ALWAYS packed. So It could have been a cash cow.

I walk in for my first day of work, after literally struggling to find khaki shorts to wear for my uniform, and they start the paperwork. You know, the usual w2's and so on and so forth. And instead of finishing the lady decided to take me on a tour of the building. Now I want to throw it out at this point that this is now the second person to interview me for this position and there were a grand total of 7 waitresses I had met thus far in the process. But I digress. We are on this tour of the premises and this tiny older woman walks up to us. I am there just taking it in, thinking about the money that might be rolling in soon, and this old woman walks up to me as nice as could be and introduces herself. I am cordial because I have no idea who she is. Turns out that she is the half owner of the joint and she has a problem with me apparently. I could tell be the gleam in her old half cateracted eye she did. "We have a problem" the old woman said. "And what is that?" I said... And she says with a completely straight face, " You cant be here, you have a beard." Did I just hear what she said to me? Is she firing me because I have a beard? Yes... that is exactly what she did. I was fired from a job I had earned because I have hair on my face that is no longer than 1/4 of an inch.

I left not angry but sort of amused. Not that I was fired from a job only nine minutes in, but how can a place such as that be so archaic in the way it thinks? Is this not 2012? I asked the lady why in God's name the two people who talked to me before hand didn't tell me I couldn't have a beard. You know what her answer was? "If you had experience you would have known." Well bitchy bitch, I have a year of experience thank you very much. I worked an entire year as a server WITH A BEARD and never got one complaint about it. So suck on that one ya old hag.

These people who own businesses need to get out of this 1940's way of thinking and realize that times have changed. Not only is it 2012, but their way of thinking does not make any fucking sense anymore. In their minds, people are offended by the fact that someone with a beard is serving them food because it is dirty or something. And if it has something to do with health codes, well that's a crock of shit too. You are telling me that these women with long ass hair are allowed to romp around with their hair over food, but me with probably an eighth the amount of hair than any of those women can't? Yeah thats just fucking insulting and doesn't make a damn bit of sense. Never has, never will. Get over your fucking self and get with the times every single work establishment out there who thinks this very way. What exactly is not having facial hair even accomplishing? Literally nothing but pissing me off. That is what it is accomplishing.

So my final message to you miss bitchy sports bar owner. When you tell the rest of your employees to Bic their heads, give me a call back and I will gladly work for you. Because that is basically what you are telling me right now. SO until then, fuck you, get with the times, and have a nice day. Oh and I hope your hair turns into dog shit one day. And you wake up and run your comb through it and all it is is little trendals of dog shit. The worst shit you could imagine. It's cool. Everything comes around, sweetheart.

I didn't need a second job anyway. I am gonna get rich off this blog... HA!

Avocado

I would honestly love to ask the higher ups on the company ladder of Subway what the hell they were thinking. Just watch...

Who the crap eats avocado? Anyone ever? I mean I could understand if it was some damn tortilla chips and some guacamole, because I know a lot of people like that. But that is literally the only thing anyone has ever eaten that gross looking food with. Shit, what the hell is it even? Is it a fruit? Again, literally not one person knows because not one person eats them. I couldn't even tell you where to buy one except, of course, Subway. But whatever. I understand they are trying to do new things. I mean God forbid no one fell for the ad campaign of a bunch of Olympic athletes eating them to stay healthy. Because THAT makes sense. Every highly tuned athlete goes to a fast food joint to fulfill their nutritional needs. I could totally see pot head Phelps swimming a million laps then scarfing down a chicken BLT on whole wheat. He isn't eating it to stay healthy it's because he is high. Its quite obvious. 

But in all seriousness. Who the hell wants to eat avocado on their sandwich? I often think about "what would be delicious on my chicken bacon ranch". And I will tell you what does not come to my mind, avocado. Not only does it look like some sort of manure a hippie would use on their organic bull shit, it smells like balls too. And that isn't even the real reason I don't eat the stuff. I mean if looking like crap, smelling like crap, and being basically a foreign object isn't enough for you, take this into consideration. It TOTALLY looks like an egg from Alien. That's right. You are eating alien eggs... which according to Subway would go well with your egg sandwich in the morning for about $4. YUCK!

Coincidence? I think not. 

Work Place Etiquette

Today at my place of employment I spent a half of damn hour sitting with my boss listening to some of the most fucking outlandish crap I have ever heard about my "work performance". You can only imagine where it goes from here. I mean what could I possibly be getting yelled at for? I am under performing, I need to do more work, or maybe even I need to try harder or some stereotypical shit like that. But no. Not on this fateful day. I will go through each and every little thing I got yelled at for today. And lets be clear here. I am being 100% serious. 

1) So I step into the office and the first thing they ask me is... "Are you looking for another job?" Well shit. How am I supposed to answer that? Of course I am. Everyone should always look for a better situation than they are already in. But I am not going to tell my BOSS that. Actually maybe I should so they can fire me. Truth is, I hate my job. I literally work with 50 women, all of which are complete bitches who love to talk behind each other backs about the most trivial of fucking things. Literally, someone was talking about how they think so and so's desk was crooked and how that made them a bad person. I have actually heard that conversation before. Its mind boggling how someone can give a shit about something as outlandishly retarded as that. But it happens daily. So yes, I am looking for another job, but it's not any of your fucking business. 

2) The next thing they bring up and probably the one I can understand the most... kinda... There have been several people who have witnessed me on the internet. I admit, I have went on it during work time. I can see the firing squad now. I mean honestly who cares. Do I do my work on time? I never miss a date on any of my work and it is all good work. But I get it, it is company policy not to be on the internet unless you are on your break. Gotcha. Won't happen again. Obladi Oblada. Life goes on. 

3) NOW come the goodies. Thirdly, I get rempremanded for something that hasn't been yelled at for since the Holocaust. I was told I sit in my chair unprofessionally. I admit, I lean a little bit when I type. But not as drastic as they made it sound. My boss actually did an impression of how it has been described to her... something like this...

"It's like I am doing the limbo in my chair" is what they said. And yes, that is in fact Chubby Checker doing the limbo with my head on his body. I am supposed to "sit at a 90 degree angle so I look more professional." You can't be serious? When the position of my ass in my chair effects anything I do... ever... let me know and I will go off myself to rid this world of my negligence.

4) It only gets better. Next on the shit list was how I take my breaks in the break room. Apparently some noisy piece of 7 year old trash happened to walk past the break room as I was resting my eyes. Yes, I also admit that once in a while I enjoy a quick cat nap in the BREAK ROOM when I get my 15 minutes. What does that hurt? Well apparently we aren't allowed to do that. I wanted to tell them I was drunk, but I thought that would have been a bad idea. 

5) Last and certainly the most ridiculous of them all... Apparently... I am too relaxed. TOO RELAXED??? What does that even fucking mean you imbecile? What, am I supposed to come into work on so jacked up and intense that I am visibly upset with everything that happens? Maybe I should just tell my coworkers to punch me in the temple randomly during the day so I am on edge. Or maybe I should tell you, as my wonderful mother elegantly put it, that its because of the downers I take all the time. You fucking idiots. Why the hell would you want your subordinates to be uptight and on edge? Doesn't that create bad work and a terrible work environment? Sweet Jesus I hate people...

I think it is time to buy that vanity plate I have been thinking of buying ( referring to number 1)...

The End of the World

I'm not going to lie. I have had a pretty large case of writers block. My creativity has been absolutely nil lately... Until this morning. I saw a trailer for a movie called " Seeking a Friend for the End of the World" staring Steve Carell. I would try to explain the plot to you but I would just be wasting my time. Just watch the trailer...

But what it got me thinking about was what exactly I would do if I had that little time left on earth. My mind would be freaking racing, I will tell you that. I wouldn't even know what to do first. I mean, I would do the obvious things like spend time with loved ones and cry a lot or something. But other than the usual thins would I do? What would anyone do in that situation? Do really irresponsible and wreckless things. 

1)These are in no particular order but obviously the first thing that pops into any persons head if something cataclysmic happens is this... I am going to be with a different gorgeous woman for the remaining days left on earth. I would reconsider if I were not single of course, but if I were single all bets would be off. I wouldn't have to be my normal shy self anymore when it comes to women because no one would give a shit. It's basically first come first serve at that point. 

2) I would eat whatever the hell I wanted whenever the hell I wanted. Think of the grossest most delicious crap. Literally, I would eat the biggest and juiciest burger you could ever imagine with about half a pig of bacon on it. It would be epic. And I wouldn't even have to care about the calories like I do now. What a world. 

3)I would try to track down a celebrity and meet them. I don't know, someone like Stan Lee or something. And I would have a deep conversation with them. You know, try and pick their brain a bit. 

4) I would loot a store, just because. It just seems like it would be a blast. 

5)I would play catch with my Dad and Grandfather. Or at least try to. 

6) I would go to a museum and touch the most famous painting in it. Maybe even take it down. 

7) I would want to shoot something with a flamethrower. I mean sheesh, who doesn't? 

8) I would hug my dog till he hated me. 

And when all of that was done... I would do it all over again till it ended. I don't know. Sometimes I think about deep things like this. I dot just complain haha. 

Netting

Continuing the trend of talking about genitals... Our family has had a pool in our back yard since we moved into this house. Why I have no idea because not one person ever used the son of a bitch. Everyone always busted my freaking balls about it too which always made me mad. "Why don't you ever use your pool, Greg?" " You are crazy for not using that pool, Greg!" Blah freaking blah... Well guess what people, it's gone now. So no more dumb questions about why I don't stand around in a bowl of water that is my body temperature. Now I will just stand in the field of grass I shoveled 20 ton of dirt into and enjoyed every second of. In my nearly 20 years in this house I can honestly say I had more fun shoveling dirt into a hole than I ever did in that pool.

Why did I hate that pool so much? Well there are a couple of reasons actually. First and probably most importantly, literally ever single time I get into water that is not a shower my ears fill up with water and I have an ear infection. Now before you thing to yourself why I didn't just use ear plugs, don't be so gullible. I have tried that. But let's be serious here. When is the last time you have ever been in a pool by yourself? Ever? No, you go in a pool with friends and most likely do the only fin things you can do in a pool... chicken fights and Marco Polo. Literally, what else is there to do? And how the hell are you going to play Marco Polo with ear plugs in? It's virtually impossible. So the ear plus theory is nixed. So it is either go in the pool for a couple hours and have fun and follow that up with 2 weeks of pure and utter hell or just not swim. I pick the later.

But this whole ear problem didn't bother me at a young age. In fact, there used to be a time I enjoyed swimming... You know, when I didn't have a pool at my disposal. But there was always one thing I HATED about swimming. Swimming trunks. Seriously, who designed these things? What in God's name is that netting inside of them? What is that even for? I'll tell ya what it's for... It's a damn torture device. I don't know about you other guys, but I find myself adjusting myself in those trunks more than focusing on the rumpus times around me. Is it supposed to be like a fish net or something? You know, to keep unwanted guests away from that special area. I mean, it could look like bait. Am I right? So I used to just cut that shit out. But then I wised up and just stopped paying money for crappy swim trunks and just used plain old basketball shorts. Honestly, it's the same damn thing. It seriously is useless.

If someone can convince me of what this is used for, I will give you anything I own. My car, dvd collection, anything. But I know you can't because there is no point. Game, set, match... this guy. 

Robotic Arm

This is truly one of the most amazing stories I have ever heard. While sitting at work reading the news (something I am not supposed to be doing at all) I saw a story that blew my mind... pun intended by the way... This woman, whose name is Kathy Hutchinson, was paralyzed from the neck down years ago leaving her completely aware of her surroundings but not able to communicate. So doctors got together and figured out a way of getting this woman to communicate. After studying her brain waves for a while they conjured up some sort of device that hooked up to her head and  controlled a mechanical arm. This device reads her brain waves and controls the mechanical arm just like her actual arm would work. Yes.... You heard me. She was controlling something WITH HER MIND... Don't believe me? Check this video out. It's insane.

Honestly, a giant step in medical technology. Pardon my paraphrasing on the first part of this blog but honestly I was just astounded. But of course you know where this is going. If you haven't learned anything about me yet, you know this is going to take a turn for the worst. You see, my mind works in mysterious ways. So as soon as I saw this all I thought about is other ways this could be used. I mean, instead of hooking something up to a persons head, I guarantee it will become wireless some day. So that just means you can hook it to other body parts. Certain male body parts... if you know what I am saying. I mean wouldn't this be a cure for erectile dysfunction? Not saying I have it... at all... I am just saying wouldn't it be killer to control it with your mind? Juuuust sayin. Especially when you are a teen. You can't control that thing if you tried. Shit happened down there at the most random of times. If only I could have controlled it with my mind... Hell if I could now! Case in point... In this situation...


Just kidding...

Jesus Harper

Yes kiddies, that is right. Jesus Christ has apparently risen once again... in the form of Bryce Harper.

Or, at least, that is how every sports broadcaster is making it out to be. Honestly, I sat there watching the Phillies v. Nationals game on Sunday night with my buddy Brad in complete shock the way they were talking about this kid. Yes, kid. The boy is 19 years old. That is 6 year younger than me for God sake. And they are comparing him to current stars like Robinson Cano and Matt Kemp. Seriously guys, he has played 8 games. Cool your jets. Comparing this guy to those players is like comparing my writing to Hemingway's. There is no comparison.

But I admit, the kid has been alright thus far. He has made some pretty bone headed plays that look good because of the outcome. They could have easily went the other way though. Take Sunday's game for example. The kid stole home on a pick off attempt at first. Who the hell does that? If I were the manager I would have benched his ass. But Davey Johnson, their current manager, is so damn old he probably didn't even know it actually happened.

And THEN he turned a bloop single into a double not on hustle, but because Juan Pierre may have the worst arm in major league history. He was literally 8 feet away from second base and air mailed the throw almost past the first baseman. I have honestly never seen anything like it. Now if you don't know me, I hate Juan Pierre. I always have and always will. What can the guy do? He honestly can't hit the ball out of the infield. He obviously can't throw the ball well. I mean, this is his batting stance for God sake. Everyone knows what is coming with this guy. 

But I digress. This is not a bash Juan Pierre blog piece, it is a bash Bryce Harper piece. And like I said, that was easily another play that could have made the kid look idiotic. 

Not only did those plays piss me off, the way they broadcasted the game really bothered me. I am not even exaggerating when I say between every single pitch they would go to another shot of him just standing in the outfield. Not doing anything. Just out where the dandelions grow looking stupid. I mean actually looking like an imbecile. He had the dumbest snaggle toothed look on his face every time they showed him. The one time they showed him, a fly ball was hit right to him. And what did the Jesus Harper do? Catch it? Nope. Dropped it like a high schooler does. That is right everyone. He is 19 years old. He probably went in the locker room and cried about it and then called his momma. Or should I say... he turned some water into whine... ZING!

All I know is if this is like this the rest of the season I don't know how I will be able to take it. Why don't you actually focus on some of the special players who are already in the league right now. How about Billy Butler in Kansas City, Pedro Alvarez in Pittsburgh, or maybe even Jason Kipnis in Cleveland. All of these players are smashing the ball right now. But not on person knows this because the entire hour of SportsCenter is dedicated to Nascar and breaking down Bryce Harper's immature swing. Whatever... I don't get an opinion on the matter so what does it matter. 

Trying it out

So I was thinking to myself, as I heard this song on the radio for the umpteenth damn time...

I thought to myself... " You know what, I found this damn frigging song WAAAAY before it was on the damn radio." I am sure some of you have had this same feeling. It happens to me more than you would think actually. I mean whatever, call me a hipster or something but I know this is the truth. My close friends can back me up on it too.

There is only one other person that I have met in my 25 years of existence that has a knack for finding new music. Her name is Hana by the way. We have been swapping new and awesome music for a long time now and I told her about my dilemma. I was actually the one who sent that Gotye song to her, if you can believe it or not. We needed to take this situation into our own hands. So I came up with an idea.

Therefor, I have made a rash decision. I am making another blog. This does not mean I am going to be neglecting you guys of my nonsensical rants about absolutely nothing. Hana and I are just going to have another blog where we post music we find that a lot of people have not heard. I think we have a gift, and we want to share it with you guys.

I think I am going to call it

We found it first... or other good stuff


So here it is. Check it often peeps. I think you are going to love it.


http://wefounditfirst.blogspot.com/

Back to the grind

First and foremost, I would like to thank all of you who read and enjoyed my wonderful book that I posted. I decided not to post the last chapter being that I figured everyone was getting sick of it anyway and because there is some really offensive stuff in it that I am even afraid to post. So I just figured it was time to move on. I was posting that damn thing for literally weeks, so I have PLENTY to talk about. 

One of the last posts I wrote before I started putting up my book was about my new job. You know, the one where that cranky ass woman yelled at my buddy for “horsing around.” Well I am still there and I am actually succeeding a bit. Who would have thought, right? But anyways, every single day of my life I now take the same road to my destination. I literally could drive that thing with my eyes closed if I had to. I drive past the grave yard, the Sheetz, the tattoo shop cleverly named “Tattoos.” Its enthralling stuff let me tell you. But probably the highlight of my freaking day is when I drive past the same damn barber shop at the same damn time every morning and see someone getting the same damn haircut every single time.

Now it wouldn’t be so noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that I can actually see how horrible this haircut is. No offense to any army man or lezbo out there that has this haircut but it is literally the worst thing ever.

Who honestly wants their hair to look like that? And I am being dead serious when I say there is always someone in that place, and sometimes multiple people, getting their haircut at 7:45 am. First off, who the hell is insane enough to get their haircut that early anyway? Who seriously wakes up in the morning just craving for an awful haircut? Apparently a lot of idiotic people in my town. You know what is even weirder about it? I literally never see anyone in public with that haircut either. They are either wearing a hat or are too fucking embarrassed to be seen in public. I go with option number two.

Also, why the hell is that man open that early to begin with? Did he start his business in another time zone or something because no normal person opens their business at that time. I mean, I could see if it is a reputable business, I can understand that. You know a 9-5 job. But this guy is opening up when everyone is going to work. It just doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.

The more I think about it, maybe that is the only haircut the guy does. Maybe people go in there thinking that they are going to be happy with their hair for the next few weeks but they end up looking like this ass hat.  

A couple more times of me driving past and seeing that awful awful haircut being administered to someone and I WILL stop and say something about it. I will be like, is that all you know how to frigging do? Go back to barber academy or something. Learn how to straight shave or something. Don’t just make everyone look like R. Lee Ermey. Not one person wants that.