Saturday, December 1, 2012

Ethnic Foody


     Sometimes it's really hard to find really good ethnic food. Some people will be like, "Aww man. I discovered this new Mexican restaurant." Oh really? You discovered it? Are you an explorer now? Oh okay. So, you just thought you were the first person to discover it--sort of like Christopher Columbus with America?
     Everyone knows someone like that: the Chris Columbus of restaurants. They feel like no one else knows about their restaurant--not even the other people eating there, not even the owner who in fact founded the place. I don't know why they even tell anyone about their secret place, because they're just going to get mad when it becomes popular. "Oh no. They're blogging about it now. I'll be the first to comment."
     I think the best way to find great ethnic food is to find the right people. For instance, if I want to find a great Korean restaurant, I have to find me some Koreans. Then I need to stalk them and figure out where they dine. Sure, I could find a good Korean restaurant just by asking around or by surfing the web. I'll go to that highly reccomended place and enjoy the food. But, I will eventually realize that there aren't any Koreans in there eating this "Korean" food--just doofuses like me and that random Chinese American guy who was brought here by his friends because they thought he was Korean. I'm going to live by a saying that I never heard before because I'm just making it up right now. The saying is, "If you want to eat ethnic, stalk the ethnic."

Here are some tips:

1. Go to a Home Depot parking lot. You'll find a group of Mexicans. Follow them if you want great Mexican cuisine. If you're lucky, you'll find yourself at the border--and I don't mean Taco Bell.

2. If you want authentic Brazilian food, go to a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu dojo. There's bound to be a Brazilian or two there. Step two: Follow them home. But don't sneak up on them or you'll find yourself in an arm bar.

3. There are quite a few options as far as authentic Indian food goes. First you can stop by your local convenient store and just ask one of the clerks. You can also stop by your local gas station and ask one of those guys--fill it up while you're at it. Lastly, you can just ask that one Indian friend that you have. Come on now, everybody has that one Indian friend--because two would be too much. Better yet, just stop by his house and eat some home cooked Indian food because hey, it doesn't get any better than that--even if you sweat profusely and all of the Indian people point and laugh at you.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I'm not one to...

The phrase, “I’m not one to…” is usually followed up with something ordinary, something commonplace. For example, “I’m not one to toot my own horn but I make an excellent crème brulee.” Whilst brainstorming, I came up with some different endings to this “I’m not one to…” phrase.

1.      I’m not one to toot my own horn…Okay, I’m lying. I tried it once. It didn’t end well. My doctor says I should refrain from doing any kind of yoga or bowing in karate classes. “I don’t mean any disrespect sensei, but it’s the doctor’s orders.”

2.      I’m not one to beat…a dead horse but if that horse turns into a zombie then I’m going to beat it and/or shoot it.

3.      I’m not one to...rain on someone’s parade, but if it’s an anti-Ryan Coleman parade, then I’m going to find a way to rain on it.

4.      I’m not one to steal…a baby, but I would have totally stolen baby Jesus—giving me the name “Baby Jesus’ Savior”. Bow down to me…only if your doctor says it’s okay.

5.      I’m not one to dunk…my donut into someone else’s coffee, but she is one piping hot cup of java…if you know what I’m saying.

6.      I’m not one to brag…about my nipples, but they’re really hard and really cute looking.

7.      I’m not one to hump a tree but sometimes being a tree hugger isn’t good enough.

8.      I’m not one to promote bath salts but I’m pretty sure America is ready for a zombie outbreak. Zombies are all the rage. There’s nothing trendier than zombies today—nothing.

9.      I’m not one to slap…a senior citizen, but sometimes they need a good slapping. What? Is that wrong? Oh I’m sorry I don’t have the excuse of being over 65. Senior citizens should get slapped around just like everybody else.

10.   I’m not one to finish abrup--

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Some Friends

      We all have two or more friends with the same first name. Take Steve for instance. I know a lot of guys named Steve. When I inputted their information into my phone, I had to give them all their own special label--because using their first name and last name wouldn't be as fun. And so we have Stoner Steve, Gay Steve, and Lumberjack Steve (because he's a lumberjack).
      One day Lumberjack Steve asked me if I would help him with the guest list for his upcoming party. I was much obliged. So, I looked through my phone and I proclaimed, "You must invite Stoner Steve and Gay Steve." And he replied, "I hate to break it to you but Stoner Steve is also gay. So, I thought to myself, "This will be an easy fix. I'll just change Stoner Steve to Gay Stoner Steve... Hmm...Then I would have two gay Steve's in my phone. That might get confusing. So I'll also have to change regular Gay Steve to...Gay Straight Steve because he doesn't do drugs. But wait, that just sounds like an oxymoron. He can't be gay and straight at the same time. Well, maybe if he was bisexual. But he's not. He's just straight gay--I mean fully gay. Hmm. How about Gay Clean Steve? No. That would insinuate that there is a Gay Dirty Steve somewhere out there. But I don't know of any Gay Dirty Steve. God damn it!" So I came to the conclusion that I had to get rid of one of the Gay Steve's. Not get rid of them get rid of them. But, defriend one of them. So I called up Gay Stoner Steve to give him the bad news--because regular Gay Steve came out of the closet first. So, he wins. Games are fun.

(Ring ring ring)


Gay Stoner Steve: Hey man.

Me: Listen Gay Stoner--I mean Steve. I hate to do this, but we can't be friends anymore.
Gay Stoner Steve: What? Why? Is it because I'm gay?
Me: Well, quite frankly, yes. 100% yes. I have nothing against gay people. It's just, that I know too many gay Steve's.
Gay Stoner Steve: So you don't have a problem with gay people. You just have a problem with gay people named Steve.
Me: Not exactly. Look, it's complicated. I'm sorry.

(Click)


      It wasn't the easiest thing I had to do in my life. Then again, it wasn't the hardest. That's what she said. Ho! Anywho. Lumberjack Steve and I got back to guest list. 

"So Steve, what kind of a party is this anyway," I asked.
"Oh, it's my coming out party," Steve exclaimed (from the rooftop). 
"I beg your pardon," I replied. 
"I'm coming out of the closet. I'm gay. Actually I just came out," replied Steve.
"When?"
"Like, right before you walked through that door."

I took out my phone and scrolled down to the name Lumberjack Steve. 

"Gay Lumberjack Steve? No fucking way," I exclaimed (from the rooftop).

Lisa & Herb

INT. KITCHEN – DAY

LISA walks through the door and places her things on the counter. She looks relieved to be home.

HERB
(VOICE OVER)
Honey?

HERB rushes into the kitchen. He’s sweaty.

LISA
Hey. What’s going on (Concerned)? Why are you sweating (really skeptical)?

HERB
I don’t want you to freak out but—

LISA
Don’t tell me you shit your pants at work and that’s why you’re home early.

HERB
What? Eww. That happened one time…maybe twice. Look, burritos and tickle fights don’t mix well. I know that now.

LISA
You know what else doesn't mix well? Tickle and fights…with your male co-workers. I really worry about you sometimes Herb.

HERB
Well worry no more, because Mitch and Don banned me from tickle fighting. They’re probably just scared that I’m going to win.

LISA
Or maybe they’re mad because you broke the first rule of Tickle Fight Club.

HERB
Don’t talk about Tickle Fight Club?

LISA
No. Don’t shit your pants. Herb, I have two surprises for you.

HERB
I love surprises.

LISA
First surprise, there are no real winners when it comes to tickle fighting. I'm sorry. Second surprise, Mitch and Don are gay. That’s why they don’t want you tickling them anymore. And they’re probably scared that you’ll shit your pants and ruin your new khakis.

HERB
(Baffled)
What? If they’re gay, then you would think they would want me to tickle them.

LISA
They’re gay for each other Herb. There’s no third wheel on a tandem bicycle.

WOMAN’S VOICE FROM LIVING ROOM
Herb, are you coming back? I can’t do this by myself.

LISA
Um honey…who the hell is that?

HERB
That’s Shelly.

CUT TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

SHELLY, an attractive woman, is putting together a puzzle. She’s wearing revealing clothes.

SHELLY
Hello.

LISA
Who the hell is Shelly and why is she in our house?

HERB
Well… I've been studying polygamy. I don’t want to brag but I’m kind of a connoisseur when it comes to the art of polygamology.  I’m what they call a polygoissuer.

LISA
Herb, that’s not even a real thing. Polygamy is not an art. And polygoissuer? Really? That sounds like a dinosaur who needs an excuse to bang other dinosaurs.

HERB
I’ve seen every episode of Sister Wives and Big Love. So, I know a thing or two. Plus, I think someone is forgetting that one drunken night when she agreed to participate in a polygamist experiment.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

Lisa is hammered drunk. Herb is sober and looking at himself in the mirror.

HERB
(Whispering to himself)
Okay buddy. She's hammered drunk. And you know what that means. Yup. She'll say yes to anything...anything.

Herb turns around.

HERB
Honey. I really want to give polygamy a try.

LISA
Sure.

HERB
Yes!

Herb jumps for joy and runs out of the room.

LISA
(Slurred)
Good luck finding another wife.

Lisa starts gagging, picks up her trash can and throws up in it.

CUT BACK TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

LISA
I really didn't think you would find someone else to participate in this asinine experiment. But you know what? Screw it. Let's do it.

HERB
Lisa, this is no time for dirty talk. We have a guest.

LISA
No, I mean let's try this polygamy thing out.

HERB
Really?

LISA
Yeah. Why not?

HERB
You're the best!

Herb hugs Lisa. Then he proceeds to help Shelly with the puzzle.

HERB
(To Shelly)
That piece doesn't go there silly goose. You can't just jam it in there if it doesn't belong. Trust me, I know.

LISA

He really does know.

CUT TO:


INT. HOUSE - NEXT DAY


Herb and Shelly walk through the door with shopping bags in their hands.


HERB

Look, it's not your fault. You just haven't been shopping with the right people. Plus, you have to know when to get your head out of the Crate & Barrel and into Ethan Allen. Am I right?

SHELLY

You're right. You're so right.

Lisa is doing Yoga in the living room with some guy.


HERB

Whoa whoa whoa! Who the hell is this?

LISA

This is Todd. I met him at the gym. 

TODD

Hey bro.

LISA

We sort of hit it off. Now he's going to join our little polygamist family.

SHELLY
Aww.

HERB

Lisa, that's not how it works. There are multiple wives, not multiple husbands.

LISA

Oh really?

HERB

Yes, really! I would love to see you try and pull this shit on Bill Paxton.

LISA

Bill Paxton plays a polygamist on TV. He's not one in real life, you bonehead.

HERB

It's not my fault that he acts the crap out of it to the point where I don't know if he's Bill God Damn Hendrickson or Bill God Damn Paxton! 

LISA

You wanted this life. Now you got it.

HERB

You're right. Shelly, let's go. I need to find me more wives.

Herb and Shelly exit.


DISSOLVE TO:


INT. HOUSE - A WEEK LATER


Herb and Lisa are eating dinner at the dining room table. They are silent. 


WIDE SHOT


The house has been turned into a flop house. There are people everywhere playing games, practicing yoga, having sex, shooting and snorting drugs, and yes, putting puzzles together.


HERB

Things got a little out of hand.

LISA

Yep. They certainly did. 

HERB

I think there's a guy over there humping our new couch.

LISA

Yeah. Sorry about that. I met him at Raymour & Flanigan. He seemed nice. And he really knows his couches. It's top of the line.

HERB

Very comfortable. And yes, I guess if you're going to make love to a couch, it might as well be top of the line.

LISA

Like a high class prostitute.

SHELLY

(Voice over)
What?

Shelly comes rushing in from the other room.


HERB

Oh, sorry Shelly. We weren't talking about you.

Shelly exits the room.


HERB

Her profile said high class Protestant. She seemed like a sure thing.

LISA

You have to watch out for those high class Protestants. I'm telling you.

HERB

Yeah.They can be worse than the low class Protestants.

LISA

True. But she's just a confused high class prostitute. So...

SHELLY

(VOICE OVER)
What?

Shelly walks into the room.


HERB

Hey Shelly. We actually were talking about you this time. Can you and Todd do us a favor?

Todd sprints into the room.


TODD

What's up guys? I just finished up some reps.

HERB

Can you do us a favor and kick all of these people out of our house?

TODD

You got it bro.

SHELLY (TO TODD)

You're really fit.

TODD

Well, physical fitness is like my religion.

SHELLY

Oh really? Well, I'm Protestant. But, I'm very flexible.

Todd and Shelly exit the room.


LISA

I guess we were wrong.

HERB

It turns out she's just a slutty Protestant.

LISA

And there ain't nothing wrong with that.

HERB

Amen.

Herb and Lisa give each other a high five.


FADE OUT:

Saturday, September 29, 2012

The Waiting Game: Fun not included.


It's probably the most sarcastic game man has ever invented. But hey, we're stupid enough to play it. Granted, sometimes we don't really have a choice.  However, in those matters we should just call it what it is. For example, "I'm waiting on this person to give me an answer. Most likely they'll say no or they won't get back to me at all. At any rate, they win. I lose. I'm still the same poor schmuck I was before." That's an honest answer. But, people love to say they're playing the Waiting Game as if it's fun. Just because it has the word "game" in it, doesn't mean it's going to be a good time. "Oh really bro? Playing the Waiting Game? Deal me in." It's quite ironic because this "game" is actually playing you. You know damn well going into it that your chances aren't pretty. They're actually pretty friggin' terrible. Chances are you'll pass the time playing some other game (probably Parcheesi) just to make it through this "Waiting Game". There's a good chance you'll lose at that game too. More wasted time, which could have been prime time for getting wasted. Hmm. And there we go. The Waiting Game just got turned into a drinking game. Why not?

Monday, September 17, 2012

Blah Blah Blah

You say you want a Revolution? No? Well, you’re getting one anyway—in the form of a TV show that is. What is it about? Basically, the power goes out everywhere around the world and humans are forced to survive without…well, power. It becomes a (dare I say) power struggle. Let’s hop on the survivalist show bandwagon and ride this out shall we? Advertisers hype it up and make it sound like this idea is going to splode (explode) due to an overabundance of originality. I understand the premise of the show. It’s actually not terrible. However, there are no redeeming qualities.

Take The Walking Dead for example. This is a great survivalist show. It works really well because humans try to survive in a world inhabited by zombies. Zombie show equals awesome. But that alone doesn’t make it a great show. It’s great because it’s well written, it has a superb cast, and it gets down to the meat and bones of human nature. Although it is a show about the walking dead, it is very much a show about the living—humanity and what keeps us alive. How about Falling Skies? Everybody loves an alien invasion, because to be human is to desperately want something that doesn’t exist to exist—much like zombies. Falling Skies has a similar concept but it doesn’t hit the same notes as The Walking Dead. It’s fun and suspenseful in its own right. However, The Walking Dead has stronger characters and better development of said characters. I’m interested in both aliens and zombies. But, I feel more invested in The Walking Dead.

Let's get back to Revolution. The characters in this show live in a world without electricity and that's the extent of it. As far as I can see, there aren't any zombies, aliens, monsters, terrorists or any real threats. So, what's the point? Are the characters just wandering around looking for a light switch? Because modern technology is obsolete at this juncture. How will they survive? Is it possible? There's no way of downloading that What happens if the lights go out app. They can't possibly survive. "Yes they can", says Jebidiah the wise old Amish man. Oh that's right. The Amish have been doing it for years, not to mention other cultures. So, we'll all join the Amish. Problem solved. Well, it doesn't solve the power issue, but we could live without it.

There is this show on TLC called Breaking Amish. It’s about four young Amish folk and one Mennonite who leave their villages to give New York City a try. Imagine if they finally arrive in New York City, and as they turn the corner to look at Times Square, the power goes out. They would be the angriest Amish/Mennonite people anyone has ever seen.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Yank & Bust

I’m just yanking your chain. I’m just busting your balls.

Why are jokes aimed at a guy’s genitals? Why is the concentration on the crotchular region? Even women say it to other women. But, that’s not right. Tis not proper usage of the yanking and the busting. Twas and tis relevant to a man. Twould not work with the opposite sex. Twasn't meant for the ball-less and the un-yankable. Women should send whatever they yanked or busted back from whence it came. That’s what she said.

What would work for the opposite sex though? I’m not even comfortable talking about it. But, I’ll talk about it anyway. What should a man say to a woman or a woman say to another woman when they’re busting chops? Hold up. Busting chops? Chops? Pork chops? Mutton chops? I think it has something to do with mutton chops. And if that's the case, it only pertains to men...again. Damn. People were so sexist when it came to busting on people.

How do you bust on a woman and how would you clarify that you're indeed just busting on her? "I'm just busting your ovaries. No real harm being done. Not your real ovaries--your metaphorical ovaries." Umm, maybe. We'll see. Moving on. "I'm just yanking your nipples. No big deal. I wasn't being serious. I wasn't trying to insult you. I was just trying to yank your nipples." Hmm. Not too shabby. "I was just cramming your clam. No big deal, just cramming your clam. You should learn how to take a joke. When was the last time someone crammed your clam." That's pretty good. "I'm just yanking your nipples and cramming your clam." There we go. That's pretty great.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Curiosity vs. The Cat

They like to say “curiosity killed the cat.” Why? When and where did this occur? You know, cats aren’t the only curious creatures. Did curiosity ever kill the bird? Curiosity killed the bird…who thought he could fly through a glass window pane. I bet his buddies were chilling on a wire saying, “Hmm. Hank’s acting rather curious”, and smash, Hank hits the window; dead. It’s interesting; curiosity never killed Curious George. What’s up with that? And he was one curious M-effer. I mean, he’s got to be pushing eighty by now.  If curiosity doesn’t kill him, natural causes will. His first name is Curious. Last name George, sort of like Boy George. No? Yeah, probably not. Well, they both like wearing hats. I wonder what Curious Boy George would look like…

Parents like to use the curiosity killed the cat proverb as a parenting tool. It’s not very effective though. If you utter these words to kids, they’ll just go searching for the next dumb cat; because kids are cruel cruel beings. For once, let’s stop talking in riddles. Let’s stop beating around the ye old bush. Break out the hedger and trim the bush, because it’s just obstructing our view. Nobody likes a big bush anyway. Can't we just tell kids to be careful and that it's okay to be curious just as long as death isn't on the line? Quit dragging cats into the mix. It's just like fairy tales. There's always some life lesson laced into some predictable three act structure. However, mythical characters such as witches, talking animals and dwarfs are used to tell the story. Maybe if they used real people, kids wouldn't have to rely on their warped sense of reality and curiosity wouldn't have to kill anymore cats...We'll leave that up to Chuck Norris.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Haha, Teehee, Laughing

My HaHa vs. Laugh Track HaHa:
Most of the great sitcoms have laugh tracks. At some point it became commonplace to have some invisible audience laugh along with us. It’s comforting in a sad pathetic sort of way; especially for people who don’t have any friends. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia doesn’t use a laugh track. I find myself laughing hysterically sometimes. Then I’ll look around the room and…nothing, just silence. No one else is there to laugh with me. It’s not always sunny in my living room that’s for sure. Sometimes I need that laugh track. Not to tell me what is funny, but to accompany me with laughter; to fill a void that no one else can fill. Unless I hire my own live studio audience to sit with me while I watch shows that lack said laugh track. And this doesn’t exclude dramas. Every once in a while dramas have comedic relief. Therefore I’ll need my LSA (Live Studio Audience) there to remind me to laugh at the smidgen of humor laced in with the drama and trauma found in such shows as Law & Order: SVU and Barefoot Contessa.
Some people believe that laugh tracks are some kind of crutch for viewers. It’s like those metal slide things that kids use in bowling alleys. Oh, and don’t forget the bumpers. It’s like a guaranteed strike every time. If you have to use bumpers and the slide thingy, then maybe you shouldn’t be bowling. You can’t always be scoring in life. Because let me tell you kids, life isn’t full of strikes and turkeys. Sure, one day you might play a perfect game. But the next day you could find yourself working in the pro shop, polishing balls all day. It’s actually a form of laziness. You mean to tell me these bastard kids can’t pick up the bowling ball and roll it down the damn alley on their own? It’s the same exact thing with these laugh tracks. People feel that production companies put in laugh tracks as a guide to tell us when to laugh. Like, “Hey, this is a joke…laugh.” As if we’re too dumb or too lazy to decipher their clever, clever jokes. It’s flawed though. Because realistically, I’m not going to laugh at something that I don’t think is funny, period. Laugh tracks can try all they want to lure me in…
It would be interesting if everyone had their own live studio audience; in real life. It would be like having insurance though. There would be different types: great, moderate, and straight shitty. One day you could be at a store confronting a customer service representative. Then you hear your trashy talk show live studio audience cheering you on, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” You could be having sex with your wife and all of a sudden you hear, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” You could be in the delivery room with your wife. Sure, she has her Golden Girls-esque live studio audience cheering her on. Then out comes a baby with green eyes and blond hair. The doctor turns to you and says, “Mr. So & So, you are not the father.” Then you hear, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Your name isn’t even Jerry. But, it comes with the plan. So, one day you say “Screw it” and just change your name to Jerry.
Sure, it could get better. You could get a better plan, maybe a Wipe Out plan. Perfect. Or is it? This plan actually comes with two sarcastic commentators. That’s just what you want when you accidentally fall down the stairs and can’t get back up. For some reason they have the instant replay option, which they abuse. “And this is where he slips. This is where he slides down, whacking his head on each step. Let’s put that in reverse. Where are you going Ryan? Come back. Oh here he comes, in slow motion. Now cue up Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. Perfect.” You could get a live studio audience that loves slapstick comedy. Every time you stub your toe or cause any accidental self inflicted pain, they’ll be right there to laugh in your face. One day you’ll bang your knee on that table that sticks out a bit too much, fall to the ground in pain, and start crying. Your live studio audience won’t hesitate; actually they’ll jump the gun and laugh uncontrollably. You look around searching for the source of the laughter and shout, “Shut up! This isn’t funny. I think I really hurt myself.” The volume of the laughter increases. Even your couches and appliances are laughing at you as if you were on Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Everything but that micka-licka high micka hiney ho guy. Oh no wait, no, there he is.
Yeah. In the end, I don’t really mind laugh tracks as long as they’re not overbearing.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Holes

While conducting myself in an uninquisitive manner, I happened to stumble upon a peculiar, dare I say queer list of words on Dictionary.com. It was a list of holes; various types in fact. I guess you really do learn something new every day. Here is the List...of holes



List...of holes

borehole
n
a hole drilled in the earth, as for the purpose of extracting a core, releasing gas, oil, water, etc.
"This one is pretty self explanitory. It's obviously a boring hole. I'm sure we've all experienced this one."
 
gnamma hole
n
a hollow in bare rock, narrow at the opening and wider at the bottom, in which water collects.
"I'm not entirely sure about this one. It sounds foreign; exotic. Therefore, I'm going to say stay away from this hole."
 
foxhole
n
a small pit, usually for one or two soldiers, dug as a shelter in a battle area.
"Sure, dig a hole for foxes, but then don't let them in the hole. I'm sure there's room. But no, just let the foxes risk their lives."
 
pigeonhole
to assign to a definite place or to definite places in some orderly system.
"Quit putting pigeons in holes and we wouldn't have this problem. It's senseless."
 
gunk hole
n
a quiet anchorage, as in a cove, used by small yachts.
"What can I say. Sometimes there's gunk in holes. It's not ideal. Butt, I digress."
 
toad-in-the-hole
n
a dish consisting of beef or pork sausages baked in a coating of batter.
"Quit putting toads in holes and we wouldn't have this problem."
 
wormhole
a theoretical passageway in space between a black hole and a white hole.
"Yes, worms have holes. They'd be nothing without their holes. Never forget that."
 
ace in the hole
an advantage or a resource kept back until the proper opportunity presents itself.
"This sounds a bit flippedy flopped. How can there be an ace in a hole. There's definitely a hole in an ace. That's undisputable. An ace in the hole though? It's a great visual, butt...come on."
 
lubber's hole
n
(in a top on a mast) an open space through which a sailor may pass instead of climbing out
on the futtock shrouds.
"The description says it all...and more. Damn futtocks. They're the worst."
 
chuckhole
n
a hole or pit in a road or street; pothole.
"I don't know why Chuck has to be discriminated against. Chuck has a hole just like everyone else."
 
f-hole
either of two holes in the body of a violin, cello, or similar stringed instrument.
"I'm glad dictionary.com created this PG-13 way of saying...farfegnugen-hole."
 
nineteenth hole
n
the clubhouse or any other place where golfers gather after play to relax, talk, or have a drink.
"Way too many holes for one driver."
 
weep hole
a hole in a retaining wall, or the like for draining off accumulated moisture, as from condensation or seepage.
"This reminds me of the ye old saying, people who live in holes shouldn't weep in their own hole."
 
dry hole
n
any well drilled for oil or gas that does not yield enough to be commercially profitable.
"This reminds me of the ye old saying, people who live in dry holes shouldn't invite their friends The WeepHoles over for tea because you know how that's going to turn out."

Monday, July 23, 2012

The Shit Gauger

How does one gauge shit? No, seriously though. How does one gauge shit? People just love throwing around the word "shit". It's commonplace these days to abuse the shit out of the word "shit". How did we get this far and how did everything get so shitty? Here are some examples of what I'm talking about:

1. Holy shit: Every time we drop this load, I'm sure God says to himself, "Now ain't that some shit. Whatchu know 'bout holy shits? You don't know nothin' 'bout my shits!" I mean, I have to side with God on this one. Who are we to say something is holy, let alone "shit". I can see if I walked in on a priest taking a dump. That's probably the holiest kind of shit that we're going to find on Earth. Nope, scratch that. I bet the Pope has the holiest shit on Earth. Oh yeah, thank you God for giving us this wonderful capability.

2. I don't give a shit: Of course I don't give a shit. That's just disgusting. Who gives shits? And if you feel the need to voice how many shits you don't give, don't, just don't okay? Because if you don't give one shit, then I think it's pretty clear that you're not going to give any more shits. "Um, yes, I give two and a half shits about this topic." Thanks for your opinion. Now go wipe the shit  from your metaphorical ass.

3. When shit hits the fan: Why? Why would shit ever have to hit a fan? The expression is referring to ceiling fans by the way. And gravity will not let shit hit fans. But somehow someone in the course of history had to prove gravity wrong. "I'm going to prove gravity wrong. Shit will hit this fan. E=mcTurd...McTurd" ~ Albert Einstein. I mean, shit can hit a floor fan. I don't see why it would ever have to. My main concern is, why are people getting so mad that they shit themselves? That's what the expression is getting at, right? Was there some type of epidemic back in the day called the Great Shit Fan Epidemic of 1893. I mean, how much shit would have to hit the fan for us to know that we're in deep shit?

Mom: Listen up kids, Uncle Milton is coming over for dinner. As you know, he shits when he's mad. So don't piss him off or shit him off and steer clear of fans because, shit might hit them.


Me: Um, mom, I give at least a dozen shits that Uncle Milton is ruining our Hampton Bay fans.

Mom: I don't want to hear your shit.

Me: Yeah, neither do I. But I'll do it just to prove a point.


- Ryan

Monday, April 23, 2012

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Terrible Accidents

Sometimes people get into terrible accidents. It’s hard to imagine some accidents being so terrible. Here are some examples.

Terrible Accidents:
1.      “Joe got into a terrible finger painting accident.” This is hard to take seriously. What could possibly make this accident so terrible? Well, maybe Joe was driving while finger painting. Then it turns into a finger painting car accident. This sounds a bit more terrible. However, if Joe wasn’t terribly stupid then he wouldn’t have been finger painting while driving. And how old is Joe anyway? Finger painting? Really Joe? Well, maybe Joe is just a little kid. If that’s the case then he sure as hell shouldn’t have been finger painting while driving let alone driving at the age of eight. Let’s just leave out the driving part of it. Ok fine then. One second Joe is finger painting in a class room. Suddenly he spills paint all over the floor. Next thing you know kids are slipping and sliding all over the place, painting with their feet. Painting with their feet? You know, some people would give their right arm just to be able to finger paint one last time. But they can’t because they don’t have any hands. And there goes Joe and the rest of the kiddy abstract expressionists clumsily creating one big masterpiece of shit. Finger painting ain’t no joke. Hmm. The words “it ain’t no joke” basically translates into “it isn’t no joke”. If it “isn’t no joke” then it must be some joke.  So to clarify, finger painting isn’t a joke. So as a side note, only use Ebonics when you have to. Why would you ever have to? Exactly.

2.      “Timmy got into a terrible bird feeding accident.” Really? Yes, really. Funny? No…well, yes. But, bird feeders aren’t intended to be part of a joke. They may appear to be still and non-precarious. But, I tell you what, they are totally precarious; totes-precarious. And dare I say pro-precarious…pro-carious. What some people don’t know is that bird feed conceals pepper which is used to keep squirrels away. And pepper to the eyes is not a good time. Just ask any dirty bird. And by dirty bird I mean pervert. Sometimes you can take pepper to the eyes just by being in close proximity to a dirty bird. In this instance I’m talking about actual dirty birds of the foul, fowl flying type. Timmy thought he could score some free sunflower seeds from a bird feeder. That’s right; Timmy didn’t want to buy his own sunflower seeds and go through the tedious process of breaking the shells and retrieving the seeds. Well, to make a short story longer, Timmy went bobbing for seeds, got some pepper in his eyes, freaked out, ran out into the street, caused a car to crash into a tree (the driver may or may not have been finger painting) which then caused a bee hive to fall out of the tree onto Timmy; covering him with honey. Blinded, Timmy ran right into the bird feeder which covered him with seeds. Suddenly, the birds from the scathed tree flew out and attacked Timmy. Oh well. What can you do? It was just another one of those crazy, terrible bird feeding accidents.

- Ryan

Friday, March 30, 2012

Oh, I can't complain. Really.

INT. BREAK ROOM - DAY
ED is sitting in the break room by himself. He's enjoying some yogurt. JOE walks in and fixes himself a cup of coffee.
JOE
Hey man. What’s worse than small talk? Riddle me that.

ED
(Unenthusiastic)
I don’t know. Tell me. Please (under his breath).

JOE
Too much talky.

ED
You don’t say.

JOE
I do say. Some people just want to tell you their life story. But no one really cares. Sometimes I just want to say, “Shut the hell up and stop whining. Your life isn’t that bad and more importantly it’s not that significant.” No matter how good people have it, they still manage to find things to complain about.

ED
True. Well, do you ever tell them how you feel?

JOE
No.

ED
Well, I think you should. Because how else are they going to know?

JOE
You know what? You’re right…I should tell them. They should know.

Ed gets up, throws away his yogurt container, heads for the doorway, stops and turns around.

ED
Hey. What’s worse than hearing someone complain? Riddle me that.

JOE
Hmm. I don’t know. What?

ED
Hearing someone complain about people complaining.

Joe laughs and nods his head.

JOE
True, very true. It’s kind of ironic if you think about it.

Joe continues laughign. Ed smirks.

ED
Yeah. I’ll talk about you, I mean talk to you later.

Ed exits. Joe sips his coffee and looks at a newspaper.

JOE
People complaining about people complaining. Idiots.

(PAUSE)

JOE
Wait a second...Hey!

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Observe & Celebrate

           There is an agglomeration of races in the United States. Despite all of our differences, we do have one bona fide similarity. We all love a good celebration. It doesn’t really matter what we’re celebrating, as long as you can raise a glass to it. Hell, we even celebrate our differences. Irish Americans celebrate Cinco de Mayo and I’m pretty sure Mexican Americans celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day.
Celebrations aren’t limited to holidays alone. We proudly observe many days each and every year. In fact, some occasions are so important that we devote a week or even a month of observation. Sooner or later we’re going to run out of days, things are going to overlap and we’re going to become “over booked”. Yep, you’ll plant a tree every Earth Day to show that you love the planet. And you’ll hire a freaky looking clown for your child’s birthday which coincidentally is on Earth Day. Then, one day your child will grow up, resent you and the trees that you’ve planted. He’ll become a drunk who can only land a job performing as a clown at a homeless shelter. He’ll get paid in balloons but not the good illegal kind of balloons but the kind that you blow up, tie together and make animals out of. One morning on his birthday, Earth Day, you’ll wake up, look outside and find your thirty-something year old drunk clown child pissing all over your trees. Hey, it’s a harsh reality. But it’s his birthday and he can piss on a tree if he wants to.
Sure, it may seem like a ridiculous and unlikely scenario, but I’m just trying to make a point. And my point is that it’s only a matter of time before “holidays” start to conflict. I don’t know if there is, but there could be a whole week called National Vegan Week. And what if somehow National Cheeseburger Day landed smack dab in the middle of that week? Side, yet in the middle note: I mean, let’s be honest, the vegans (vegi?) don’t need a whole week to be extra vegan. But, this is America and we like to over indulge even if it is healthy. But I digress. So, this National Cheeseburger Day would cause quite a quandary. I mean, a cheeseburger is still a cheeseburger even if it’s slapped between two vegan buns (oddly perverted). Am I right? Therefore National Cheeseburger Day would have to be moved or it would have to be replaced by National Vegan Burger Day; which would be quite redundant, excessive and absolutely disgusting. However, we might as well keep it all together and get it out of the way in a solid vegan lump crap cake of a week.
I mean, really, anything could happen. The National Gay Day (a day that celebrates happiness) could conflict with Gay and Lesbian Pride Month (a month that celebrates homosexuality). They would conflict regardless of their proximity to each other on the calendar. It would become a battle of who is the gayest. And the last thing we need in America is the gay happy people feuding with the gay, gay people. Am I right? (Note: This was just an example. I have nothing against the gays. I am gay-happy for the gays).
There is a very good possibility that you could take any inanimate object, put it in between the words “National” and “Day” and make it a legitimate day that people observe. You could make it a week or a month if you’re a greedy bastard or if it’s actually important. Take (let me pick out the first thing that I see on my desk) jelly for instance. I could say, “Jelly is very important not only to I, but to grapes, America and jelly lovers alike.” Let’s just say it gets approved, mandated and it becomes a “day”. Great, perfect, we’ll declare it National Jelly Day. But, you know there will be anti-National Jelly Day extremists. Some people will hate National Jelly Day and everything that it stands for. Some people will envy National Jelly Day and will bring up valid and interesting questions like, “How come there isn’t a National Jam Day or a National Preserves Day?” Then someone will suggest that we turn National Jelly Day into National Jelly, Jam, Preserves Day or National Fruit Spreads Day. The people aren’t going to like that one bit. I mean, you can’t lump all forms of contraception together and say they’re all effective on everyone. This is America. It was promised and written somewhere that we can spread our jelly, jam, or preserves on any kind of bread that we want: White, wheat, rye, pumpernickel, you name it (I mean this in both a warped literal sense and a metaphorical sense).
In conclusion, I think we should celebrate life, celebrate it together, and celebrate…one and all. But, we should still guard our borders, keeping out illegal aliens (this includes Canadians), extraterrestrial aliens too because it’s getting a little too crowded and confusing in this modern America.

“The American dream is a golden cheese fondue fountain. And I can't wait to bring home the bacon...so I can dip it...in the cheese.”
-        Paula Dean

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Somewhere Between Confidence and Lack Thereof

(Preface/Note: The figure skating reference bears no significance. It’s just the very first thing that came to mind.)
Some people like to promote confidence and reinforce the idea of confidence whether or not they’re actually confident in you or confident in your potential confidence. Someone could say, “Look Guy, you should be confident. You have everything going for you. Now get out there and land that triple axel.” However, they might actually be thinking, “I’m pretty confident that he’s going to land right on his face.”
How do you measure confidence? What’s too much? What’s too little? Where exactly is that comfortable place in between modesty and arrogance? I mean, you don’t want to come off as being semi-confident. Then you’d probably sound something like, “You should watch me figure skate sometime. I mean, if you want. It’s no big deal. I’ve been training my whole life. But, I’m nothing special. I’m mediocre at best. Never mind. You’d probably be wasting your time. No. Come check me out though, maybe.” When you’re semi-confident you just sound like an indecisive, desperate, whiny little bitch. But, you sure as hell don’t want to sound arrogant. You don’t want to say, “Guess who’s great. I am. I’m a real good time. I mean, I’m a real great time. I just landed a triple axel…in bed. Oh!” People don’t respect a guy like that. I mean, how can they? Guys like that put the “erk” in jerk.
I guess when it comes down to it, in life you should wholeheartedly stand by your convictions, your work, and your triple axels. Stand tall before your final bow; even when your partner is on the ground beside you bleeding profusely due to a botched side by side shotgun spin. Assume your well rehearsed stance, hold your head high and know that you are a winner; a confident winner.




- Ryan

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Acceptance Speeches & Music

Interrupted by Music:
I find it interesting that the proper etiquette for nudging people off of a stage while their giving an acceptance speech is to drown them out with music. To be honest, I think it shouldn’t stop there. It should be part of everyday situations.


QUESTIONS & COMMENTS:

INT. HOME – DAY
KEITH is eating yogurt.
KEITH
(Voice over)
This is the best God damn yogurt I’ve ever tasted. I really need to thank someone. Someone needs to know that they’re doing a good job. What’s this?

Keith looks at the yogurt container and it says, “We welcome your questions & comments. 
Please call 1-800-1YOGURT”.

CUT TO:
INT. HOME – DAY
KEITH is on the phone.

KEITH
I can’t say it enough. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Without this yogurt, I wouldn’t be who I am today. My breakfast wouldn’t be well balanced. I’m going to put you on speaker phone because I can’t eat yogurt and hold the phone at the same time.

Keith puts his phone on speaker and places it on the table.
KEITH
Sometimes I add a little granola to my yogurt; a little nola to my yoag. Do you do anything special with your yogurt? Have you ever tried poking a straw right through the foil and slurping it?

Keith jams a straw into a yogurt and slurps.

KEITH
It’s good.

YOGURT REP
I can’t say that I’ve tried that before. Look, I appreciate the comments, questions and suggestions. However, we’ve been on the line for about an hour and—

KEITH
Can you over dose on this yogurt? Is that possible?

CUT TO:
INT. OFFICE – DAY
Yogurt Rep is sitting at his desk with his headset on.

YOGURT REP
I think too much of anything isn’t good for you. And I certainly wouldn’t snort the yogurt.

CUT TO:
INT. HOME – DAY
Keith has yogurt around his nose.

KEITH
Yeah. It’s not as cool as it sounds. If you could hold on for just a little longer. I just have a few more shout outs. I’d like to thank the scientist who came up with the yogurt recipe. And if you could let the CEO know that he’ll always have me as a customer. Oh, and I’d like to thank the factory workers or machines/robots and the people that control the robots. I’ve always wanted to meet a robot. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to—

SOUND OF CLASSICAL MUSIC FADING IN.

KEITH
Okay, okay. I’m running out of time. Can you hear me? It's kind of hard to talk over this music. Hello?

MUSIC GETS LOUDER AND LOUDER, DROWNING KEITH OUT.




OPEN MIC NIGHT:
INT. CAFÉ - NIGHT

NICK & TOM, folk singers, rock out the last five seconds of their set. The crowd claps and cheers.

NICK & TOM
Thank you.

NICK
Thank you so much!

TOM
Thank you so, so much!

Claps and cheers die down.

NICK
I just want to say, we appreciate you guys coming out tonight. We hope you enjoyed yourselves. We sure did. I’d like to take a moment to thank our mothers. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. I mean that in the literal sense and the other literal sense.

TOM
Literal sensi.

NICK
A double entendre if you will. Our moms conceived us and they drove us here. So, thank you moms.

Tom walks over to Nick’s microphone.

TOM
Yeah, thank you. We love you. Furthermore, I think we should take a moment to thank our managers for landing us this wonderful gig. So…thanks again mom and mom.

NICK
Ditto.

Tom looks at the very back of the room.

TOM
Hey mom. There’s a pretty lady in the front row here. Take a look and tell me if she’s marriage material…What’s that? Yeah, I know. She’s nothing special, but…

Tom looks at the girl.

TOM
I’m sorry. It’s not going to work out between us. Thanks for coming though.


NICK
That’s what she said. I’m just kidding. She never said that.

TOM
Actually, there was that one time when she did say that. Remember?

NICK
Oh right. There was that one time. But I digress. Moving on, I’d like to thank my dogs, Chuck & Bruce, for always giving me constructive criticism and for being my best friends; a man’s best friends…ladies.

TOM
I thought I was your best friend.

NICK
That’s debatable. I’ll have to see what Chuck and Bruce have to say about that. Listen up people; we appreciate you supporting our music. But, now we need you to support us in a different way. There’s a basket going around; much like the kind you’d find in a church. Actually, it is from church. Thank you Father Sebastian.

TOM
Don’t be shy people. And please, no loose change, just dollar bills. It’s going towards a good cause. I got into a bad accident…band accident…a Rock Band accident last week. I was rocking out, probably a little too hard, and I took a mean spill. Plus I think I have arthritis in my right hand. But that might be from something completely unrelated.

NICK
Thanks again folks. Are we forgetting to thank anyone?

TOM
(Counting with his fingers)
We got our moms, the fans…

NICK
The fans, yeah, we got the fans.

TOM
Chuck and Bruce.

NICK
Check.

TOM
No, Chuck.

NICK
No, I was saying check as in “Check, yes, we thanked them.”

TOM
Oh.

MUSIC FADES IN AND CUTS THEM OFF, MUCH LIKE AT THE ACADEMY AWARDS.

NICK
Whoa! What’s with the music?

TOM
Umm, that’s rather rude. We’re not finished with our speech. Who are these cantankerous beings promoting this, this tomfoolery?

CAMERA ZOOMS OUT INTO A WIDE SHOT REVEALING THE OTHER BAND MEMBERS, JACK & COLLIN, WHO ARE PLAYING THEIR INSTRUMENTS.

JACK
It’s us…the rest of the band, over here, behind you.

COLLIN
Are you guys going to let us speak or…?

NICK
Um.

TOM
Well…I guess that would be acceptable. Sure, why not?

NICK
Sure, why not? Why not? Sure. Go for it.

JACK
I’ll go first.

COLLIN
Wait. Why do you get to go first?

MUSIC FROM THE SPEAKERS FADES IN, DROWNING OUT THE BAND COMPLETELY.
The audience disperses along with the café workers.

FADE OUT: