Friday, December 30, 2011

I've been thinking

Snoop Dee Oh Double G:

I like to replace Snoop Dogg with any person in any story, TV show, or what have you. It's like a, "What would Snoop Dogg do?" kind of scenario. For instance, when I watch this show called Storage Wars, I don't look at the auctioneer and say, "Wow, he's a fast talker." No, I think to myself, "Wow. Snoop Dogg would do better."

I picture a storage unit (or "locker") opening up and smoke just pouring out. Then, all of a sudden, out from the smoke walks Snoop Dogg. He has a goblet full of gin and juice in one hand and a cane in the other hand; which he had just stolen from the unit moments earlier. The smoke clears which reveals a full out gangster party going on inside of the unit: gangsters and ho's grinding up on each other, forty's being spilled all over, and a guy in the corner grilling up some bbq. It turns out that most of the smoke was coming from the grill and not illegal substances. Some of the folks outside start complaining.

FOLKS
They're ruining everything. I am not bidding on this unit.

An old optimistic guy, GUY 1, chimes in.

GUY 1
I don't know. I have a really good feeling about this one. That chair that these young folks are humping on, appears to be from...the early Elizabethan period. It's definitely post Gothic. And definitely not Jacobean.

Another bidder chimes in.

GUY 2
He's right. That strapwork screams Elizabethan. It has to be worth at least $300,000. 

Snoop Dogg chimes in.

SNOOP DOGG
(astonished)
What the fizzle? It's time to biddzle. We're gonna stizzle the bidizzle at three hundred thousand dizzles.

GUY 1
Um...that's way too high.

SNOOP DOGG
High? You haven't seen high motherf***er. I mean, fizzler.

GUY 2
Five hundred dizzles! Right over here Mr. Dogg.

Snoop Dogg walks over to GUY 2 and back hands him across the face.

SNOOP DOGG
We got five hundred dizzles. "S" "N" double "O" "P"  "D" "O" we have six hundred? Double "G".

GUY 3
Six hundred.

GUY 1
Oh dear God! That man just splooged all over the chair!

GUY 2
Now it's worth nothing.

GUY 3
There's no refurbishing that.

GUY 1
I'm out of here.

GUY 3
Yeah. Me too. This unit is awful.

SNOOP DOGG
No one is leaving until I get my six hundred dizzles!

Snoop Dogg pulls out a gun (an old rifle).

GUY 3
No! Please don't shoot us Mr. Dogg...with that Civil War era rifle.

GUY 1
Actually that's an imitation from the 1950s.

They walk up to Snoop Dogg.

GUY 1
Notice the oak wood. Rifles back then were made primarily from mahogany.

GUY 2
It's true. You'd probably only get like fifty bucks out of this.

SNOOP DOGG
Word? That's enough for me to get high four times. Hey, do you guys want to get fizzled up?

GUY 1
Sure. I always wanted to grind up on a real girl.

GUY 2
Word. I think I spot a pair of Apple Bottom jeans with my crotch on it...$35.00 on ebay.

Snoop Dogg back hands Guy 2 across the face, then they proceed to party.



- Ryan

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Elevator Gossip

INT. ELEVATOR (CORPORATE SETTING) - MORNING

The elevator doors open. Two guys, BLANKENSHIP & THOMPSON are standing there. MURPHY A.K.A. "MURPH" enters the elevator. The elevator door shuts.

MURPHY (in a ghetto voice)
What up Blank? What up Thomp-Son!?

BLANKENSHIP & THOMPSON (in a ghetto voice)
What up Murph?

MURPHY
Have you guys seen the new guy yet?

BLANKENSHIP
Who? Todd?

MURPHY
Yeah. That's the guy. Todd. Mr. my last name is too friggin difficult to pronounce, so people have to call me by my first name.

THOMPSON
Yeah. What a loser.

MURPHY (Mocking tone)
Look at me. Look at me. I'm the new guy. I have no friends

BLANKENSHIP
He's a sorry excuse for a human being.

All three guys laugh. The elevator doors open. TODD enters the elevator.

BLANKENSHIP, THOMPSON, & MURPH (Excited)
Yo! What up Todd?!

MURPH (Stoked)
Aha! My man!

TODD (Super stoked)
What up boys?!

THOMPSON
This is my stop. I'll catch you guys on the flip flop.

MURPH
Oh snap! No he didn't. You should be a rapper Thomp-Son! T-Son!

Thompson throws up a peace sign. The elevator doors closes.

MURPH
What an idiot.

BLANKENSHIP
He definitely shouldn't be a rapper. Yah mean? Boy just can't spit it.

TODD
I know. It's only my second day here and I already can't stand him. Mostly his face.

MURPH
Yeah. He scares off all the honies. We should make him take the stairs.

The elevator doors open. PEREZ enters the elevator.

BLANKENSHIP
What up P-Rez?

PEREZ
Chillin'.

Blankenship exits the elevator.

BLANKENSHIP
See you guys later. We'll do lunch. Who's up for enchiladas. P-Rez?

PEREZ
You know it!

MURPH
Alright dog. Hit us up.

TODD
Yeah man. Extension 3-4-3-6! (Holding up numbers like a gang sign)

BLANKENSHIP
Word!

The elevator doors close.

PEREZ
Racist son of a bitch. I'd like to travel back in time, right before his mom decided to concieve him, and slap her in the face with an enchilada.

TODD
I feel you man. But, I'm pretty sure that would have just provoked her. And today you'd have yourself a happy little accident named Blankenship. So, save your platonium.

MURPH
And yo, I ain't goin' to lunch with him. He never pays. And, he uses Bed Bath & Beyond coupons at the strip club.

PEREZ
He should know damn well that strippers ain't shoppin' at no B. B. & B.

MURPH
Hey Todd. Who's extension did you give him?

TODD
Thompson's.

MURPH
Nice!

The elevator doors open. Smith enters the elevator.

MURPH
What up Aero-Smiff?! My man!

Murph exits the elevator and stops the door from closing.

SMITH
Haha. There ain't gonna be any love in this elevator. That's for sure. Where are all the women at?

TODD
Thompson scared them off.

SMITH
He should take the stairs. Like, for real.

MURPH
Haha. Word. Hey, do you guys want to come to my office and do some double shots of espresso and YouTube it up? Just get crazy with it.

PEREZ
No dice my man.

SMITH
No can do. Todd and I have a meeting with the boss in like ten minutes.

MURPH
Oh. Ok. Aha! It's all good. We on for lunch?

TODD, PEREZ, SMITH
You know it.

MURPH
Aha! My dogs! (BARKING NOISES) Peace.

The elevator door closes.

(PAUSE)

TODD
What a friggin tool! Can I just say that?

PEREZ
If you didn't, I was. He should get a life.

SMITH
Yeah. He should have take the stairs. And if I have to hear one more Aerosmith or Will Smith reference, I'm gonna lose it. I wasn't West Philadelphia born and raised! I just wasn't!

The elevator doors open. Murphy is standing there. He looks pissed off.

SMITH
Murph! Murphy Brown. My man! What's shakin'...?

MURPH
Don't. Just don't. I heard everything. I forgot I had to go up to HR.

Murphy slowly walks into the elevator. The doors close. It's completely silent. Smith looks sympathetic.

SMITH
...West Philadelphia born and raised.

PEREZ
...On the playground is where I spent most of my days.

TODD
...Chilling out maxing relaxing all cool.

Murph smiles.

MURPH
And shooting some b-ball outside of the school.

They all harmonize together and sing the rest of the song.

SMITH
Look man. We're sorry. We didn't mean any of what we said about you.

MURPH
Apology accepted. Group bro hug?

SMITH, PEREZ, TODD
You bet.

They all hug. Then the elevator door opens. It's Cindy, an attractive brunette who they all fancy.

CINDY
Umm. I'll take the stairs.

MURPH, TODD, SMITH, PEREZ
No, no, no! Don't go, don't go!

The elevator doors starts closing.

MURPH
It's just a group bro hug! No big deal!

The elevator door closes.

FADE OUT:

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The word "So"

So

There is a little bit of negativity surrounding the word, "So". Here are five different ways that "So" can be used.

1. So-and-so
2. So-So
3. So...(dot, dot, dot = awkward)
4. So called, blah, blah, blah (replace the blahs with appropriate words)
5. So good (but not really, sarcastic kind of "so")

Here is a scenario that exemplifies what I'm talking about.

1. Interior Comedy Club - Night

Life partners Steve & Robbie are sitting at a little lounge table enjoying Cosmopolitan cocktails. They just got done watching a comedian perform.

STEVE
What did you think of so-and-so?

ROBBIE
I think his name is Doug.

STEVE
Does it really matter?

ROBBIE
Haha. No. I guess not. He was...so-so.

A waiter approaches Steve and Robbie.

WAITER
How's everything?

STEVE & ROBBIE
Super.

WAITER
What did you guys think of Doug?

ROBBIE
He was so--

WAITER (Proud)
He's my brother.

ROBBIE
So good.

STEVE
So, so good.

WAITER
Really? Thanks guys. I'll let him know. Actually, I helped him write some of those jokes.

ROBBIE
You don't say. Well, you should just go right ahead and quit your day job.

WAITER
Haha.

ROBBIE & STEVE
Haha.

(PAUSE)

WAITER (Exuberant)
Really? You think I should? You do. Don't you? You know what, you're right. I should so quit. I'm going to quit right now!

The waiter rips off his apron and runs off.

WAITER
I quit!

STEVE
He so should have kept his job.

ROBBIE
So should have kept it. Now he can run off with his so-called comedian brother and get laughed at for not being so funny.

STEVE

Haha. Yeah. The funniest part of Doug's set was when he froze up and it got really quiet. Then he said, "So..."

ROBBIE
Yeah. That was awkward. I laughed so hard at that.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Belief

Belief is important. Without belief, we have no reason to live. When I was at work, I looked at my desk and found some things that I believe in.


1. I believe in true love. These are a couple of pictures that I have showcased on my desk.





2. I believe in President Barack Obama. And I believe in America.






3. I believe in fresh breath (You're welcome Orbit).






4. I believe in rock n roll and my guitar.





5. I believe in a good moisturizer.





6. I believe in a good bromance. This is my current background on my desktop.






7. I believe in President Barack Obama and America, again.




- Ryan


Wednesday, November 16, 2011

I wonder

I'm going to preface by saying sometimes we as humans can think of some pretty messed up things. Also, epilepsy is a serious disorder and is nothing to laugh about. Without further ado (let's be honest though, no one can tolerate plain old ado let alone further ado), I present to you a little story that I wrote; well, a story that I'm about to write, right now. It might be sad.

Very Unfortunate Viola

A long time ago in the 1980s, Viola was just a little girl. Sylvia, Viola's mother, had to bring Viola to work with her down town at the Ballroom; because her babysitter a.k.a. father just got locked up. The Ballroom was a nice little erotic discotheque in the heart of a dangerous city. The whole night Sylvia thought that Viola was content just sitting there wide eyed, shaking out of beat to the music. It could have been because of the cocaine debris floating in the air. But no, it was due to the sight of the spinning discoballs which caused Viola to have a seizure. That was the first and last time that Sylvia brought Viola to the discotheque; because of the dangerous disco balls of course.

Later on in life when Viola was a teenager, she met a goth kid named Zachariah. She could relate to his dark interior which mirrored his dark exterior and his eye liner. However, one day Zachariah started going to the technotheque: a techno club. He changed his name to Zak and started dressing in fluorescent colored clothes. Oh, and he dyed his hair a very vibrant coral color. One day Zak asked Viola, "Do you want to see something cool?" Viola replied, "No." But Zak(ariah) showed her anyway. He whipped out two glow sticks and started spinning them around like he was a jester on crack. Viola immediately dropped to the ground and had a seizure. That was the last time Viola saw Zak.

When Viola was in her twenties, she moved to a nice little suburb and started her life over. She met a nice guy named Nick. One night Nick brought Viola to the highest peak in the town. Nick said, "I have something special to show you." Nick reached into his pocket. Viola said, "Dear God no." Nick pulled out a small nautical spyglass telescope and a map. "I mean, dear God, no...one has ever showed me something this special" said Viola. Nick looked into the sky with the telescope. "I had a star named after you. Here, take a look" said Nick. Nick handed Viola the telescope. She looked up into the sky and saw the most beautiful, twinkling star. Then she had a seizure. That was the last time she saw Nick.

One day Viola finally found happiness and true love. Her boyfriend Lionel brought her to a park where they had a picnic. The sky was blue and the sun bursted with joyful little rays of fire and passion. When the time was right Lionel got down on one knee, pulled out a huge sparkling diamond ring and said, "Viola. Will you marry me?" Viola smiled and stared at the sparkling diamond ring. Lionel endured a long and awkward pause. Lionel exclaimed, "Ouch. I think I'm kneeling on a rock. Haha...So...Oh my God! Are you having a seizure?" Viola didn't answer Lionel because yes, she was having a seizure. When Viola came out of it, Lionel was right there by her side. Viola looked up at Lionel and said, "Yes. I'll marry you. Because no discoball, glow stick, shining star, or sparkling diamond ring can stop true love." They kissed long and passionately. Then they lived happily ever after.


Writer's notes: I believe I'm going to hell.


- Ryan

Monday, November 7, 2011

The Weekend Wrap Up

I learned some pretty valuable things over this long but not long enough (that is not what she said) weekend. I'm not going to be stingy with my knowledge. That's why I'm going to share it with the world. Let's get started.

A) It's probably not a good idea to eat a chicken cutlet sandwich & fried pickles after you just busted your ass at the gym. For one, you might find yourself busting your ass in the bathroom afterwards. Hopefully one set, one rep. Secondly, it's just not that healthy. However, those fried pickles were delicious. I think I'll just eat them before I do something active. Perfect. Problem solved.

B) A shot at redemption: So, I bought boxing gloves and tested them out on the punching bag at the gym. I was doing pretty well, showing that bag who the real sensei was. Then, in walked a senior citizen. He was atleast 68 years old. We'll call him Mickie. Mickie said something to me but I couldn't hear him clearly. Mind you, my ears were ringing a little bit because I had just head butted the punching bag. However, I think he said something like, "Give it up" or "Give it a rest". He smiled and I laughed it off. I was wondering what Mickie was doing in the boxing area. Then, he whipped out his hand wraps and wrapped up his hands. And I said to myself, "Check it out. This old timer is going to throw some fists at leather (I'm pretty sure that's the terminology that boxers use). Then he's going to throw out his hip." But right as I was about to say "hip", Mickie walked up to the speed bag and started speed bagging the hell out of that bag; like he was Rocky Balboa. So, what did I do? I started kicking the punching bag like I was Jean Claude Van Damme from his classic film Kickboxer. Then I grabbed my shin and fell to the ground. But I played it off like I was just stretching then turned it into a backwards tumble and stood back up. However, I fell back to the ground because I was still in pain. Then I proceeded to fall, stretch, backward tumble until I made it out of the room. Moral of the story: Don't discriminate against senior citizens...unless you're entirely sure they fit the stereotype. Administer the speed bag test if you have to.

C) I attended a wedding this weekend. I could barely hear the priest (maybe I should get my hearing checked). However, I did hear him make some Three Little Pigs/Big Bad Wolf analogy regarding marriage. I wasn't that impressed with it though. I'm a realist and I think if you can't maintain a stable home because some wolf keeps blowing it down, then you got bigger, badder problems on your hands. Chances are your marriage is just fine. It's the wolf that's the problem. Just get a shotgun and shoot the wolf. Is that animal cruelty? Maybe. But, if the wolf would just get a real job or a hobby then he wouldn't face such scrutiny. I mean, he goes around terrorizing three innocent pigs, a girl with a red hood, and a senior citizen. Next time he's going to mess with the wrong senior citizen like Mickie and get knocked the hell out. Let me get back to the animal cruelty thing. Maybe the BBW (Big Bad Wolf) is justified. Maybe he's just sticking up for the little pigs. Everyone wants to build a stable home for their family. But, you can't just go around turning pigs into carpenters and brick layers. That's just weird. There are practical ways of going about it. Try a real contractor. Moral of the story: Priests shouldn't make terrible analogies, period.(period)


- RyBread

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Not at my expense

Some people just love to complain. They are the type of people that get nicknames; and not good nicknames mind you. For instance, there is this one lady that comes in from time to time. We'll call her Eileen or...Cryleen. She makes her life seem sadder than a depressed crack head with Alzheimer's who just realized that she forgot to pay her drug dealer and that's why her kneecaps are broken. But trust me, her life isn't any sadder than yours or mine. She just chooses to make every day sound like her worst day. You know that age old question, "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" Well, that doesn't make any sense because there will always be someone around to hear it and her name is Eileen. Not only will the tree fall, but it will somehow fall on her. That would be some form of hell for her because she wouldn't be able to complain to anyone. Then again, she'd probably just complain to the trees. Yep, she's something else. This is kind of how it goes down whenever Cryleen shows up. She'll open the door and enter my office.

EILEEN
Awwwwwww man. Heaviest door ever! Who put this door here? This door belongs in a castle. Look out everyone! I'm breaching the castle gates! Haha.

People cringe at the very sight of her. Then they drop to the floor and hide under their desks. I look around and realize that I'm the only one left.

EILEEN
Who is that handsome fellow?

I look around the room, pretending that I don't know that she's talking to me

ME (Not at all surprised)
Oh hello Eileen. What a pleasant surprise.

She doesn't give me a chance to ask her how she's doing.

EILEEN
Ugh! Did I tell you about my damaged left rotator cuff?

ME
Um, yeah. I believe you did tell...

EILEEN
No? Well, I did a number on it. Ugh! And my knees. I could barely walk in here today. And that door. Let me tell you about that door.

ME (A little sarcastic)
Yeah. It's like it belongs in a castle or something.

EILEEN
That's what I was saying! I literally just said that. Weird. Ugh! Don't get old Ryan. Don't do it.

ME
I won't.

I try to look away from her and return to my computer so I can finish my work.

EILEEN
Let me tell you why you shouldn't get old.

Bursting with excitement (I mean irritation) I slowly tilt my head back up and listen to her ramble on. Occasionally I nod my head or say something like, "Yeah" or "You don't say" (hoping that maybe she don't say anything else).

EILEEN
Ugh! If you had my back...

ME (Brainstorming in my brain)
First of all, I would never have your back; especially not in a fight. You're falling apart for crying out loud Cryleen. You certainly wouldn't have my back. The only time you would have my back is if I was giving you a piggy back ride. And then you'd still have the nerve to complain about your own back.

EILEEN
I think I have arthritis in both of my hands. I'm hurting all over.

ME (Brainstorming again)
Really? My ears hurt. Do you care? No.

EILEEN
Aww man. It looks like I finished early today. I guess I better head over to the other office.

ME
Oh wow. That sucks (Please don't go?)

She didn't actually leave at that very moment. The conversation carried on for quite some time. And when I say conversation, I mean the conversation that she had with herself. I got two words in (or two syllables if you will) and they were "buh" & "bye".


Progression of the conversation through Facial Expressions:



This is what I looked like when I heard Eileen's voice from behind me.

 
This is me verifying that it is in fact Eileen.



Me smiling at Eileen; happy to see her.

 
Me listening to Eileen.



Me resting my face on my fist.
"Oh really Eileen? Really?"
Hmm. I wonder what Hulking out feels like.
Oh. This is what Hulking out feels like.
Maybe if I give her the Deniro, she'll stop complaining...No, she just said I look more handsome; handsomer. I can't say I disagree.





 

Friday, October 28, 2011

Weirdos & Creepers

Guys can be weirdos and creepers from time to time. They have no problem with conjuring up something weird yet perverted to say when they see an attractive girl. Dudes will cleverly construct their comments by using the "play on words" or "play on occupation" tool. For example, if a dude sees a cute cashier he might say, "Yeah. I'd let her scan my bar code." You see. Clever. Or if a dude sees a cute bagger (person who bags groceries) he might say, "Hello! I'd let her bag my groceries." Or you can get weird with it and say, "Aww yeah. I'd let her bag my Special K and my 2% milk. And if she's lucky I'll even make her breakfast. I hope she likes Special K because we are definitely spooning." Or you can just say something simple like, "Mmm girl. I'd let her bag me up...if you know what I mean." But who knows, this bagger chick could be a serial killer. So what do you do then?

"Oh jeez. I can't go out with her. She's a serial killer....a very hot serial killer. And she does bag a mean rump roast...Yeah, I'd totally let her bag me up."

So, no, a creeper/weirdo wouldn't bail because a creeper/weirdo has no shame. In the end he would go out on a date with the bagger chick. Then he would find himself stuffed inside of a bag.

"Ok. At first this was cute and kinky. Now it's just messed up. Is it too late for a rain check? This bag is huge. Is this a hockey bag or...? Do you like hockey? Maybe I can take you to a game sometime...if you don't murder me (under his breath). Was it necessary to put this paper bag over my head too? I mean, I'm already inside of a bag. This just seems redundant. I do prefer paper over plastic though. Thanks for that. But it would've been nice to have the option. I'm just saying. That's where you went wrong. That's why this isn't going to work...I'll still make you breakfast though."

- Ryan

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Split this

What's up with splitting the bill? Who thought that was a good idea? Probably some loser moocher who empties the whole mint bowl into his pocket including the bowl. "Umm, is that a bowl of mints in your pocket...or do you have a bowl shaped penis?" Anywho, why should I have to split the bill with someone who got steak & lobster when I only got chicken quesadillas and a water (which is free mind you)?

I'm not made of money. Hell, if I was made of money I would take care of the entire bill. Although, if I was made of money I'd have to use a piece of myself to pay for the bill; like an arm and a leg. Like literally, I'd have to use my arm and my leg. "Well John,  I hope you enjoyed that surf and turf because it cost me my limbs. You son of a bitch." Screw that, I don't want to be made of money.

However, it wouldn't be so bad to be clothed in money. Then again, I'd probably get robbed all of the time. "This just in. New Jersey man gets shot. Witnesses say the victim was wearing a jacket made of one hundred dollar bills...What an idiot. This just in, M. Night Shyamalan just got inspired and started writing a film called Blood Money Jacket. It's going to star Steven Seagal and Pauli Shore as detectives out of Boston. Get ready for it to start raining down tears. Not because it's a sentimental movie, but because it'll be so terrible you'll cry like that guy who just got shot. Remember when that happened? Speaking of rain. Sue, what's the weather looking like for this week?"

I'd have senior citizens robbing me too. Take for instance, I'm walking down the street and some old lady steals a $100 bill that is covering my crotch and I say, "Don't get fresh with me lady! Put that back!" She puts the money back and we both walk away in opposite directions. Then suddenly I feel a nice cool breeze on my ass and realize that she stole my butt flap. Unfortunately for her, the butt flap was only made out of $1 bills. Laughter ensues. But, ut oh. She's coming back and looks angry because she just realized that she only got $8 out of me.

I don't want to be made of money or dressed in money. I just want people to stop splitting bills and take responsibility for their own crab cakes.


- Ryan

Friday, October 14, 2011

Lying vs. Lying

I'd like to know the orgins of the saying, "Lying sack of shit." Maybe it was originally intended for a lazy, smelly bum who was just lying on the sidewalk. But, I guess the right word for that would be "laying". So it would have to be "laying sacks of shit"; like he was a brick layer but a sack of shit layer. But, who the hell has that kind of job anyway? Who the hell lays down sacks of shit? Farmers? Maybe. Either way, it sounds pretty shitty to me.

Then again, it was probably intended as the dishonest type of lying. Some guy could have gotten mad at some other guy for fibbing. And maybe he called him out on his chicanery and said, "You know what? You're a liar. You're a..." Then he spotted a sack full of shit on the ground and resumed with, "...sack of shit. That's right. You're just as sorry as a sack of shit."

What about a sack of shit that comes to life just like Frosty the Snowman? Sack O' Shitman. Therefore, he would be a dishonest, non-mobile, smelly sack of shit. That's just freaky and uncalled for. That's just gross. Who would think of such a thing?

I suppose that a "lying sack of shit" could just mean a "dirty liar"......No. I don't like that explanation at all. I'm going to side with whoever came up with the Sack O' Shitman idea.


- Ryan

Just thinking

Bruises aren't fun. They're actually kind of boring and aesthetically unpleasing. Bruises should look cool. They should be shaped like fire breathing dragons or machine guns or anything awesome like that. I want to be able to say, "Clumsy me. I walked into a door handle. Now I have this sweet ass bruise on my hip that's shaped like a highlander sword. Would you like to see it?" It would suck if a bruise was shaped like male or female genitalia. Talk about an insult to injury.

Bro 1: Aw man, that bruise on your crotch sure does look like a vagina.
Bro 2: Shut up. It's not a bruise. It's a hickey...Wait, how do you know about that?


It would suck if a bro got a bruise right above his butt and it was in the shape of a butterfly. And that bro couldn't wear anything other than belly shirts. Well...if he wore belly shirts then it would kind of explain the butterfly shaped bruise...or hickey. But who knows?

- Ryan

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

How are you doing?

I wish I could read people and tell whether or not they mean it when they ask, "How are you doing?" Because you know damn well that there are people (probably you & I) out there that are just accustomed to asking the question. Some people could really care less. And I wish I could weed those people out and make them sorry that they ever asked the question.

INT. OFFICE - MORNING

PETE walks into his office. He passes his co-worker, WENDY, on his way to his desk. Wendy is known for being short. And by short I mean brief in conversation. She's really self-centered.

PETE
Good morning Wendy.

WENDY
Good morning Pete. How are you doing?

PETE (VOICE OVER)
Hmm. I'll tell you how I'm doing.

Pete comes to a halt, turns around and walks into Wendy's cubicle.

PETE
Well Wendy, I'm glad that you asked...

WENDY
(Under her breath)
Oh no...

PETE
Things couldn't be worse. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night. And I bet you're wondering why. Let me tell you why Wendy. My doctor died the other day. My doctor. Do you know what that means Wendy? If doctors can't save themselves, then what the hell does that mean for the rest of us? Which brings me to my next subject: this growth my right cheek.

Wendy examines Pete's face.

WENDY
I don't see a...

PETE
My right ass cheek. I'd show it to you, but that would be really inappropriate, in this cubicle. We would have to retreat to the restroom or at the very least my apartment...after dinner of course...seven o'clock...at the Wendy's right down the street. You'll love it there. Trust me.

WENDY
(Disgusted)
Wait. Are you asking me out?

PETE
I don't know Wendy. Am I? Look, I'm just really vulnerable right now. You asked me how I was doing and gave me your shoulder to cry on. I'm pretty sure we just bonded. Maybe we can do some other kind of bonding if you know what I mean.

WENDY
There is no way I would ever go out with you, especially after hearing about that gross ass growth on your...ass.

PETE
Well...I guess the growth on my ass sorely mistook your phony sentiment for true tenderness. It looks like you owe it, an apology.

Pete turns around and pretends to take off his pants. Wendy is appalled and runs out of her cubicle. Pete starts laughing.

PETE
(Proud)
Oh man. I sure did freak her out.

Fred, the creeper of the office walks by. Pete despises him.

FRED
Hey Pete.

PETE
(Caught up in his own humor)
Hey Fred. How's it going?

Pete suddenly realizes the mistake that he just made.

PETE
Oh no...

Pete starts to walk out of the cubicle but Fred blocks off the opening.

FRED
Well Pete, not too good. This has been the longest and worst day ever. Let me tell you all about it.

FADE OUT:



- Ryan

Monday, October 3, 2011

Who's the man?

Quite recently I came to the realization that I'm not much of a man. It's hard to say, but it's true. I was driving home on my lunch break. I pulled into my apartment complex doing like 20mph. There was something hovering in the distance at eye level. I was about ten feet away when I realized that it was a dragon...fly. Yes, a dragonfly. It just kept hovering in the same spot. But I proceeded, assuming that it would move out of my way. Then I shouted or screamed, "Umm. Get out of the way!" It became clear to me that this dragonfly was:

a) Stupid and totally disregarded the rules of the road.
b) Just a lollygagger.
or
c) A practical joker.

Well, I started bobbing & weaving, like the dragonfly was going to come right through the windshield, like I was watching a 3-D movie. I believe I even swatted or karate chopped the air while trying to swerve out of the way. And then, right at the very last moment, the dragonfly flew away; laughing at me I'm sure. I felt like the biggest idiot. My face even turned red because I was embarassed. Embarassed in front of who?!?! A dragonfly? Yes. But, that's okay. I can play practical jokes too. Next time I see a dragonfly fluttering in my way, I'm going to pretend that I'm not going to hit it. Then, at the very last second, smash, right on the windshield, dead. But, I won't even use my windshield wipers. Oh no. I'll leave the dead dragonfly smashed on my windshield to set an example for all of his or her little dragonfly friends. Then I'll roll down my window, hang my head out and shout, "Who's the man now?"


- Ryan

Air Guitar

I don't think I should play the air guitar or the mega-bass air guitar anymore. Well, not in public anyway. I realized when I jam out with my sweet ass mega-bass air guitar, it kind of looks like I'm fondling a giant and strumming my junk. It all depends on the placement of my hands and whether or not I'm playing with an air pick. If I'm playing with an air pick, it looks like I'm strumming my junk. However, if I'm finger picking, it looks like I'm fondling myself. So, in that instance, I'd be fondling a giant and fondling myself at the same time; while playing air guitar. But, that's just me multi-tasking on a good day. If I loosen up the air guitar strap and play like Billy Joe Armstrong of Green Day, then it looks like I'm fondling a midget. Excuse me, I mean small person. But that doesn't make it any less creepy, small people. Okay? But how often would I come across a small person or a giant while I'm playing air guitar? Their coordinates would have to be pretty precise in order for it to look weird. Chances are, if the circumstance did arise, it would be mis-matched; I'd be playing the mega-bass with a small person standing in front of me. That means I'd be tickling his/her chin, nose or forehead; depending on their height. I guess it all depends on whether or not I'm standing or sitting too. Because sometimes I like to rock a mean air guitar while sitting down. Hmm. Then I would potentially fondle a normal person. Excuse me, I mean a person of average height. Well, now that's all screwed up. I suppose I should just be extra careful while rockin' out with my imaginary guitar. Or I could just pick up a new instrument, like a flute or a didgeridoo. Yeah, that's it. A didgeridoo.

- Ryan

Quit Your Day Job

There are other options as far as jobs go. Realistically, you could quit your day job and be perfectly happy doing something else. You could take two seemingly unrelated things and mash them together to make one extraordinary job.

1. A yodeling gigolo.
2. A skatting stoop sweeper on skates; conveniently cleanly yet surprisingly daring.
3. A street mime psychiatrist
4. A sign holder on a corner advertising a yodeling gigolo while giving someone a foot massage with his feet.
5. A zoo keeper wrestling a lion...cub...with his thumbs at a charity event for rescued kittens.
6. A guy dressed up like a mattress, advertising mattresses at a charity event in a run down motel next to a strip club.
7. A guy donating blood...in a night club called A Cave...or was it a cave called a night club?...Now you're a vampire.
8. A street musician who uses his ass cheeks for bongos all the while mooning pedestrians.
9. A crack-head getting his fix while staring at the ass cheek-bongo player.
10. A guy picking his nose while playing the lottery.
11. A carnie juggling two balls while...juggling two balls.
12. A ninja dressed up as a pirate at a Pirates of the Caribbean themed party.
13. A pirate dressed up like a ninja at a ninja clan meeting...tap dancing...sound of peg leg on a hard wood floor...dead pirate.


- Ryan

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Back to Earth

My parents were liars. When I was a kid they said, "Shoot for the stars, buddy." Yeah, well I was five years old then and I took things quite literally. Sure, I jumped off of a roof or two in an attempt to shoot for the stars. And I might have broken a few bones. I mean, expectations were set pretty high. What else was I supposed to do?

Maybe there is a smarter way to shoot for these so called stars that my parents are so fond of, thought my eighteen year old self. So, naturally I went to college and studied astronomy and physics. It turns out that you have to be good at math. Things just didn't add up. Needless to say, my dreams got shot down and landed battered & broken in my driveway. It's too late for me. But it's not for you. That's what I told little Billy.

One day I was shopping and I overheard a mother tell her child, "You can do it Billy. Shoot for the stars kiddo." And I stopped and looked little Billy right in his sad, pathetic face and I said, "No Billy. No. You can't do it. You'll never be an astronaut. You can shoot for the stars all you want. But NASA will just shoot you down. Trust me, I tried. And I mean look at you, and look at me. If I can't make it, then you sure as hell won't." Who knows maybe one day Billy a.k.a. Joseph Mazzello, will fly high into the sky after him and his brother a.k.a. Elijah Wood miraculously build an airplane; as seen in the movie Radio Flyer.

What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger....? No. What doesn't kill you leaves you weak, mangled on the ground, battered and bruised, with potentially permanent scars. On the other hand, what doesn't kill you leaves you grounded. And that ain't such a bad thing. Is it?

- Ryan

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Twinkies and Resentment

Once upon a time there was a high school history teacher named Fred Gable. Fred loved Twinkies. He loved them so much that he kept a stock of them in his closet. The bottom shelf held tape, staples and paper clips. The top shelf held paper. And the middle shelf was jam packed full of Twinkies. That shelf was consistently full and rarely had any space, let alone any other tasty treats.

One day Fred died. His death came unexpectedly. However, it was quick, peaceful and was completely unrelated to Twinkies. His funeral was a few days after his passing. There were all sorts of people there: his wife Mildred, family, friends, colleagues, and a man that attended Twinkie conventions with Fred. But more importantly there was Donald, Fred's apprentice; with whom he spent most of his time.


INT. FUNERAL HOME - DAY

Every seat in the place is being used. Donald is standing at the front of the room comforting Fred's wife. He hugs her then makes his way to the casket. The inside of the casket is full of pictures, Fred's prized possessions, and a few boxes of Twinkies. Donald kneels down in front of the casket.

DONALD (WHISPERING)
Hi Fred. Wow. I don't know where to start. I mean you taught me so much and so much about myself. I just want to thank you for your friendship and your guidance. It truly has been an honor.

Donald glances at the Twinkies.

DONALD
And...You know what, I guess now would be a good time to tell you how I really feel. It wasn't all rainbows and puppy dogs. And I love puppy dogs. (Pause) Two years Fred. Two very long years and you never shared a single Twinkie. Not once. But now it looks like you're going to share. Aren't you?

Donald opens a box of Twinkies, takes one and puts it in his pocket without anyone seeing him.

DONALD
Aww. Thanks Fred. That's very nice of you. It means so much to me.

Donald kisses Fred on his forehead and walks to the back of the room. The Priest, Father Lupton walks up to the podium. The room gets quiet.

FATHER LUPTON
I'd like to start out by saying thank you to everyone for being here. Fred was a loved man. And that is clear to see. I'd like to ask Fred's wife Mildred to come up and say a few words before I proceed with the service.

MILDRED
Actually Father, I was going to ask Donald to come up and say a few words first. He spent the most time with Fred. So...Donald, could you...?

Donald looks baffled.

DONALD
Yes. Of course.

Donald starts walking up to the front of the room. SOUND OF PLASTIC WRAPPER RUBBING AGAINST DONALD'S PANTS.

PEOPLE COLLECTIVELY WHISPERING
What's that sound?

Donald pauses for a moment, then proceeds walking while trying not to make any noise. Mildred hears the noise and immediately looks at the casket. She notices the open box of Twinkies and looks at Donald.

MILDRED
No. Donald...

DONALD
What?

MILDRED
Say it ain't so.

DONALD
It ain't so.

MILDRED
Why would you steal Fred's Twinkies?

SOUND OF EVERYONE GASPING.

DONALD
I don't know what you're talking about.

MILDRED
Then what's in your pocket making all that racket?

DONALD
That noise isn't coming from me.

MILDRED
Oh yeah? Then keep walking.

Everyone is staring at Donald. He stands there then starts to mosey on over toward the casket. SOUND OF CRINKLING PLASTIC.

MILDRED
It is you!

DONALD
You're right! Fine! I did it! Big whoop!

MILDRED
Who steals a Twinkie from a casket!?

DONALD
I do! Fred never shared his Twinkies. Never!

MILDRED
What is wrong with you!? Put the Twinkie back!

DONALD
No. It's mine now!

Mildred charges at Donald and tries to get the Twinkie out of Donald's pocket.

DONALD
Ahh! What are you doing? That tickles! Stop! You're smushing it!

FATHER LUPTON
Pardon me Mildred, but that's quite inappropriate.

MILDRED
I'm sorry Father, but you've never seen inappropriate.

Mildred pulls out the Twinkie but it explodes all over Donald's pants.

DONALD
And now you have Father.

MAN THAT ATTENDED TWINKIE CONVENTIONS WITH FRED
It happens.

DONALD
Umm...

FADE OUT:



- Ryan

Friday, September 16, 2011

Assuming

Don't you just love it when computer programs try to read your mind? Take Microsoft Word for instance. It likes to assume things. Now, humans know the baggage that comes with assuming; asses fly, everywhere. People think they're so clever. "Well you know what they say (talking like a corny nerd)" Response: "About what, assuming? Yes, yes I do. Thanks for the reminder. And I hate "they" say, by the way. Next time please don't beat around the bush. Just call me an ass." And, "beating around the bush?". Who the hell came up with that saying? Probably some type of ass. One can only assume. Anyway, where was I? (ponder) Ahh yes, unfortunately computer programs aren't smart enough to know when they're wrong for assuming. The computer program assumes that you want to jump down a line and tab over twice to continue a "Things to do" list. Why yes I do want to go on an excursion to try and find the closest Jack in the Box restaurant which is 3000 miles away. But I'd prefer if the first thing to do was up a line and two tabs back that way. Ass. And yes I did call my computer an ass. I know how to choose my battles; battles I can definitely win. Unless my computer starts pulling stuff like this everyday, then I lose. But, say I rough it up a little bit. Technically, physically I win the fight. But mentally, psychologically the computer wins because I am without a functioning computer; as it lies there broken, hard drive bleeding out, laughing at me like the Predator laughed at Arnold Schwarzenegger in the film Predator.

Most cases that involve assuming are really just acts of kindness. But somewhere it gets flip flopped and misconstrued. For instance you get invited to a birthday party for your wife's friend's husband whom you've never met before, whom you believe to be Mexican because you've seen a picture of him. It's the summertime. On your way to the party you stop by the liquor store and pick up a sixer of Corona; a refreshing, summertime, Mexican beer. You get to the party and find the birthday boy alone in the kitchen. You figure this is your chance to get aquainted. You introduce yourself and surprise him with the Corona. He says "Thanks but..." You jump in and say, "You're welcome. One sip of this stuff and I'm sure it'll bring you right back to your homeland. Mexico (throw in a little spanish accent to impress)". He responds with, "I was going to say thanks but I'm a recovering alcoholic. Plus, I'm Guatamalan you ignorant son of a...." He begins beating your face in. You scream, "I shouldn't have assumed! Next time I'll put my foot in my mouth!" But that was a bad idea because it enticed him to stick his foot in your mouth De Niro style. Terrible. Tragic. But atleast we can look back and laugh. And by we, I mean me, the Guatamalan in the story. DUN DUN DUN! Just kidding. That story is loosely based on a fictional event. Plus, I'm not Guatamalan. I'm basically a mixture. Sort of like a mutt. Better yet, a melting pot. I am the melting pot. A mutting pot. A...Where was I?

Assuming. From now on I'm going to replace the word assume with the words educated guess. I think you can avoid a lot of aggrevation and pain if you use "educated guess" instead of assume. This is how the birthday party story could have went. You don't pick up the Corona. You drive right pass the liquor store; providing that the liquor store is on the same route as the party, otherwise don't drive by it at all. Remember, you're not assuming he's Mexican, you're taking an educated guess; which means you could be guessing wrong but it won't matter because educated guess sounds better than assume. If you were assuming then you're already an ass.  So...You get to the party and find the birthday boy alone in the kitchen..baking cupcakes. You walk up to him, introduce yourself and say, "I'm gonna take an educated guess here. I could be wrong. But, you're Mexican right?" He responds, "No, I'm actually Guatamalan." You say, "Damn! I'm sorry." He says, "It's okay. You were just taking an educated guess." The end. I just love happy endings. Though, I'm sure it wouldn't have ended there. You probably would have found a way to insult someone. And by you I mean you, the one and only person that's reading this right now.

Where was I? Oh yeah, educated guessing. You can use the word belief too if you want. It is my belief...No one would dare mess with that. Assume is just too easy to tamper with. But, belief is way too serious. It is my belief that God doesn't appreciate it when people use the phrase "God awful". I'm sure he doesn't want to be associated with awfulness or anything of the like. So there we have it. Using the word belief is kind of like religion. It's kind of like heroin too; you just don't mess with it. Kids! Believe me.

- Ryan

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Regret

I met this 90 year old woman the other day. She was the sweetest lady; sweet like a bowl of sugar free candies. Before she left, she shook my hand. But let me tell you, she had the firmest handshake I've ever had the pleasure of feeling. It felt like she gave my hand a Swedish massage. Most men I know can't shake a hand as well as she did. It's not like she had man hands either. If that were the case I would have anticipated her senior death grip. But no, she had really delicate looking hands; magician hands, ninja hands...magician ninja hands. They were so soft, like she was no stranger to a daily moisturizer. Unfortunately I can't think quickly on my toes; especially when my hand is being crushed. That's where the word "regret" comes to mind. I regret not challenging the old bag to a hand duel or a hand off if you will. Have you ever made a 90 year old woman cry? Yeah, neither have I. But, there's a first time for everything. And that could have been my first. Not that I would want to make the 90 year old woman cry. But, I mean she's the one who brought the pain first. I should have brought it right back to her until one us gave up.

Then we could have transitioned into a thumb war. I probably would have won because I'm assuming she has arthritis in her hands. However, if she has arthritis then she would probably beat me in a shadow puppet battle and possibly a gang sign battle. 

What about that hand slap game? If she slaps as hard as she squeezes then she would have a severe advantage. Then again I'm probably quicker. Or I would hope so anyway. What about a slap bet battle? Well, she's been through the Great Depression, a bunch of war time eras, some other serious shit and she birthed like eight babies. It's safe to say that life has slapped her around a few times. So, she could probably take more slaps to the face than I could.

What about rock, paper, scissors? I can't be certain but I think that she had a glass eye in her left eye socket, which leads me to believe that I could rely on my quickness to pull a fast one on her. I could shoot my signs to her left side so she couldn't see, then switch it up right quick if I had to. Or I could just make shit up. She would be like, "I win. Scissors beats paper." Then  I'd be like, "No. I don't think so. This isn't paper. Haven't you ever seen Edward Scissor Hands? My whole hand is covered with scissors right now. Use your imagination. If anything it should be a tie. Or I should win because my scissors would totally shred your dinky scissors. Or maybe my hand could just be a hand again and I could slap the crap out of you right now. How do you feel about that? It's your move Betty White."

Oh well. It would have been a great battle of battles. Who knows, maybe we'll meet again. And if...I mean when that time comes...I'll be ready.

- Ryan