You Too!?

Usually I will bring a story from the news that I make fun of or I present a comedian I think is worth your attention. But right now I'd like to share a ridiculous conversation I heard on the elevator just a few moments ago...


My ride started with two people who I found to very repellant and extremely annoying before they even opened their mouths. There was a woman who was slightly older, probably 40's, and a man who was probably in his 30's.

She reminded me of a dirty hippy, with her unkempt hair, long flowy (and dirty) dress, and this look that screamed, "If I open my eyes any wider than this I won't be as chill." It felt like she was forced to grow up and do something so she decided to take classes at some no name college. She's what I imagine a character from the show "Community" would be like if they were real.

This man reminded me of an aggressive dork. He had his backpack straps pulled tight and his chest out, with a baseball cap to top it off. Also, he had on the kind of sandals that are meant for hiking and, given he was in Manhattan, this bothered me as it always does.

These two clearly knew each other and as it goes, weird people stick together. It doesn't matter whether they are really into XBOX or fantasy novels because sometimes there are people that don't even fit into their own social groups. These were those people.

Sometimes when I look at someone and judge them, as I did with these two, I get it all wrong. I assume they fit stereotypes or compare them with people I have dealt with in the past before they have a chance to present themselves as human beings. When I am proven wrong I am surprised but mostly ashamed for being judgmental.

This was not one of those times.

The horrible hippy directed her attention at angry dork. She opened her mouth and simultaneously started swaying her head back and forth, "So how has your week been?"

He is slow to respond but when he finally answers he says, "Not great. My uncle died this week."

To this point I was watching in anticipation. I truly don't enjoy people like this but they remind me of reality television. I would never put on any of those shows that monitor psychotic people that argue about nothing. But if I'm in the room when it is on I don't exactly reach for the remote.

So when I hear this furious nerd has had a death in the family I feel awful that I've been monitoring them. That is until Miss Phish retorts with her eyes bulging out of her head, "Oh my god! No way! My uncle died this week too!"

I'm blown away by this response even though I knew upon seeing her that she was no social whiz. But what makes the conversation so unforgettable is the excited response of, "No way! That's crazy!"

The two then go on to bond over their dead uncles and become in their words, "funeral buddies."

I find great relief when they leave the elevator but instead of blocking out the experience I want to share it with the world. Even though I write and make jokes about people like this constantly, I am still surprised when I run into such nincompoops.

Stop It

Dear Dairy Queen,

You've ruined a good thing. That wonderful Old Spice man made us all laugh with his declarations of what a man should be. You, on the other hand, sell ice cream. It's just not the same.

Here is a list of reasons why the Dairy Queen campaign is terrible(even though it is the same as the Old Spice campaign, which is awesome).


1. Dairy Queen ice cream isn't even that good.

2. The production quality of the Old Spice commercials is far superior. They film their commercials in single shots with all real props. No cgi bunnies and big gay flaming rainbows. Queens.

3. Old Spice did it first. There are no other Chuck Norris' out there and if anyone thinks of a joke about... let's say Burt Reynolds, that's similar to a Chuck Norris joke, it's going to have to wait. Burt Reynolds, or whoever, can wait just like Chuck Norris waited for Bill Brasky jokes to calm down. Maybe this would work in 10 years DQ, but not now.

4. The guy in the Old Spice commercials (Isaiah Mustafa) is a former NFL player and is going to be in a movie with Jennifer Aniston. He's what we call 'the man'. This white guy in the Dairy Queen ad, with his cheap porno mustache, is nothing but a knock off. It's like going from Pooh Bear to Poop Bear.

So please D Queen, cease and desist because you're awful and ruining the fun.






If you haven't seen any of the awful D Queen commercials here's a link but I don't recommend watching it because I don't want to encourage them.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VtH5xdbMtU

Recap

I haven't had much time to post anything because I have been busy with finals and the whole graduation thing. But let me briefly run over a few of the things that I wanted to talk about in the last couple weeks.

Japanese people get married by a robot priest, NYC cowboy cracks his whip enough to break some records, the g shot and the misogynistic anchor is a must see ("So she's enjoying penis a little bit more, is she?"), daddy brands his children, a grow your own rice bra, Delta Air Lines lost a dog, a Seagull gets shot with a crossbow in the head and keeps on flying, and a 3-D playboy issue.

Look for more posts soon with topics like these soon.

Classroom Hero

This semester I have been a part of a lecture that is as dry as saltines. It’s a 90-minute class that could prompt a sloth to get up and run away. Every student, since the history of learning, has taken a subject that they didn’t find absolutely riveting and in every one of these classes there has been “that guy.”

It’s difficult to give a perfect definition for “that guy” and I could spend days writing pages upon pages about all of the different types but for now I would like describe “that guy” as he is related to the classroom. The term “that guy” is a general term but when he is in the classroom I like to call him the classroom hero. The classroom hero is bothersome, irritating, annoying and, quite simply, he is a douche.

There are many breeds of the classroom hero but I am going to first describe the specific one I have grown to detest. This unsavory gentleman is from my lecture and he makes the 90-minute experience not only dry but painful too. He is the chap that loves to pipe up in lecture so that he can make a comment. However, I’m convinced he only wants to hear his own voice, which he finds particularly hilarious. He will make a sarcastic and idiotic joke and he is convinced that he has blessed us all by speaking. When he is letting out his laugh, that pierces and twists around in my chest like a corkscrew, it is clear that he believes his ridiculous idea of humor is actually funny. He has an unjustified air of confidence but is only met with blank stares of disbelief when he speaks as all normal people wonder how this person exists and where he came from.

We have all seen this behavior from our prospective classroom heroes over the course of our academic careers but for some reason we are always surprised. Students will roll their eyes in disgust and find themselves in a conversation with another student about how awful the classroom hero is as a person. I have actually made some of my friends this way. Yet as much as this person’s awkwardness surprises us, we are just as shocked to see someone identify with him. And there is always someone that breaks the silence with an awkward giggle.

This is where our classroom hero gets his confidence. Normal people understand that if you make a joke in front of 100 people and only two of them laugh, then it is not a funny joke. Normal people understand the concept of trial and error. This is not the case for the classroom hero. He only needs one or two people to laugh for him to feel like he’s receiving cheers at Madison Square Garden. These people do not understand regular social interactions so they will never understand that silence and rolling eyes is a bad thing. I believe the only way to handle it is irregularly. They must be booed. Boo these men whenever you can. This is the only way they can comprehend what is happening around them.

How Much?

I’d like to first start off with apologizing to any woman that may read this for the piggish attitude of men. We are disgusting creatures but then again who doesn’t love a good mud fight.

I don’t know if all men have done this at some point in their lives but I do know that I’ve been involved in a certain conversation on multiple occasions that I didn’t ever bring up. It’s the conversation of how much money it would take to do something. This usually starts off with something like “How much money would it take you to eat shit?”

Hilarious.

Then the conversation evolves into something more. It becomes a much more theoretical how much. For instance: how much money would it take for a random upstanding female citizen on the street to have sex? That’s always a good one. (Told you we were gross ladies).

So we sit around and laugh and try to figure out what the magic number for a celebrity like Eva Longoria would be, or whoever gets your dick to twitch, and then it happens. Someone asks the gay question.

“How much would it take for you to suck a dick?”

Everyone boos for the most part but then people actually start discussing it. They say they’d do it for a billion or a trillion. They justify it by saying that a trillion dollars could buy you anything you wanted and the memory of the fellatio would be nothing compared to the fun you would have. But I say nothing could make me do that. Don’t get me wrong, I am by no means homophobic, I just don’t want to suck a dick, ever. A gay man turning down sex from Giselle wouldn’t surprise you. No one ever believes me and accuses me of lying. They say that if I were presented with a trillion dollars that I would “have to” do it. I firmly say no and I will tell you why.

I am going to share something with all of you that I have never told anyone in my life. I figured this would be the proper venue considering that everyone in my life can read it.

When I was a freshman in college (I know you’re all excited to see where this goes) I made plans with a group of friends to see Billy Joel. He was coming on campus and we expected to have a student discount to the show. The tickets went on sale months in advance but unfortunately, with no student discount. So of the eight of us that made plans to see the show only myself and one other person actually purchased a ticket. This was fine with me because I had never seen Billy Joel and I was very excited to see him. A couple months went by and it wasn’t until the day of the show, it wasn’t until we were actually walking to the doors of the arena, did I realize what I had done. It was Valentines Day. I was on a date with a guy on Valentines Day at a Billy Joel concert. When I realized what I had done I felt like I had just chugged vodka expecting water. The whole night we received stares from the almost entirely elderly audience because, yes we really did stand out that much. Some even made comments, “You two are so brave!” It was absolutely horrifying. The only positive thing I took away from that experience is that I have way more respect for gay couples now.

To this day I am haunted by that event.

There is a point to me reliving this mortifying event. Based on the events of that day and how it has affected me in my life then there is no way that I could handle sucking a dick. The ratio of gay experience to humiliation would be too much for me to handle.

My New Passport

This summer I was lucky enough to get an opportunity to travel to Italy. Unfortunately I didn’t know that I was going to Italy until just two weeks before the trip. The reason this is unfortunate is because of the passport office. My passport had expired earlier this year and when you only have two weeks before a trip you are forced to visit this godforsaken place. For those of you that have never been to the passport office I urge you to do whatever it takes to not end up there. Unless you believe that you will never be leaving this country because of your fear of flying or your deathly fear of running into someone who isn’t white, I implore you to renew your passport in a timely manner.

Every single time I have gone near the Tip O’Neill building since that day I can feel myself become angry and instantly exhausted. On the fateful day that I went to that hellish place I arrived at 9:00 a.m. and I scheduled this early appointment so that I could have the rest of my day to do things.

HAH!

I waited for two hours in one line so that I could receive a number just so that I could wait in the next line. This line, which I waited in for another two hours, was a line that led to another evil room where I waited for yet another two hours. I stood for four straight hours! No ride at any theme park makes you wait that long. I have never waited in line for four hours for anything exciting but I waited in this dry awful place in line for four hours so that the government could give me permission to leave the country. What I haven’t even mentioned yet is the unbelievable attitude from the people that worked in this mind-dulling place. Every ten minutes I received a brief interrogation from a security guard, because he thought I was in the wrong line, for whatever reason though I’m betting he was mentally challenged. So as I waited in the wicked room with a rainbow assortment of people I was brewing a chest full of hatred for anything that was government run. When my number was at last called and I was finally granted permission to go to the window, I was forced to wait for twenty minutes while the heavy set woman behind the glass waddled around in circles, seemingly doing nothing at all. Once the woman had hobbled her way to the window she stamped my paper and I was done. ALL OF THAT for a stamp. It blew my mind. It doesn’t make a bit of sense.

Let me paint a clear picture of how you feel when waiting in this office. Imagine you are in a gray room. In this gray room there is one uncomfortable chair. There are speakers on the walls and all they are playing is Enya. There’s a bowl of pretzels in the corner of the room but they are surprisingly dry and happen to be stale. Combine this feeling of boredom and everything that is plain with every bad experience you’ve had with customer service and you will begin to understand what the second floor of the Tip O’Neill building is like.

With my experience under my belt I came to the conclusion that a government worker visited the DMV, or known as the RMV to you weirdo Massachusetts residents, and saw the hatred people felt while they were there. He looked around at the terrible treatment of customers and the long lines. This man observed the misery that is the DMV and he thought to himself,

“This place is just plain awful…”

And then he grinned and he thought.

“But it could be so much worse.”

This was the birth of the passport office





So, readers, what I need you to take away from this is there are certain things we must all do as citizens. We must all remember to pay our bills, pay our taxes, and always have an up to date passport.

Put Down Your Feet

After I had some time to think about my last post I came to the conclusion that it may have come off as too serious. The point of this blog is to point out the stupidity of others and I think I was too gentle on drunken idiots. But what is done is done and I don’t intend to re-visit the area of the drunken fools.

Today’s topic is a topic that brings me to the brink of insanity every day I spend in class. I am speaking of classroom etiquette. I am speaking of retards that think its ok to take their shoes off and put their feet on the desk in front of them. This is a common occurrence in the classroom and those of you who do this are assholes. No one wants to smell your feet, no one wants to see your crusty toes, and no one likes you from the moment you take your shoes off. The classroom is not a living room and when you take your shoes off you are bothering everyone around you not to mention disrespecting your professor. It shocks me when a professor doesn’t tell a student to put their nasty hooves away when they are trying to teach but what is most surprising is that this person does not even realize that people are glaring at them.

Put your fucking shoes on.

Next there is the habit of students that I hate above all others. This is the event that occurs, when a student raises their hand and open their idiotic lips to utter the words that I fear will cause my death due to a severe and violent aneurism. When a student says “I was just gonna say…” followed by something equally as moronic. I restrain myself every single time this is said from attacking this person with words and/or fists. A large knot in my chest is forming even as I type this.

Let me explain why I hate this brainless pre-cursor to a, likely stupid, insight on classroom discussion. This person was not about to say anything. They were called on and were patiently waiting to be called on by their professor. What is it they were “just gonna say” exactly?

NOTHING.

They weren’t just about to say anything. No one cut them off, no one interrupted them, and they weren’t in the middle of a point at any time during the class. I can’t make this any clearer. If you say this in class I will immediately have no respect for you and you are a poor excuse for a human being.


That’s all for now.