Monday, January 7, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
When My Dad Finally Sees the Redwoods
One fateful day my dad will trek through the mighty pine, through the mystical forest and leave his footprint next to the greatest Redwood anyone has ever seen! He will then realize that that footprint isn't actually his, but of a twelve foot tall Sasquatch. Suddenly, what should appear before his very eyes? Yes, the friendliest of squirrels named Chipmunk--he has quite the identity crisis. Then, suddenly, the biggest foot of feet smashes down upon the squirrel. Dad trembles and slowly looks up to see the montrosity before him. But, to his astonishment, it's just an average sized man lurking around with an over sized boot--maybe a Doc Martin, maybe a Timberland, I don't know. For some reason dad is without any shoes, boots, footware whatsoever because he wanted to be one with nature and feel the earth beneath his feet. Then he realizes that his foot pain tolerance is nonexistent and begins to freak out due to a baby splinter lodged in his toe.
"The sun appears to be falling away to the dark side of the Earth," says the man.
"Nope. That's just the shadow of a Sasquatch behind you bro," replies Dad.
The Sasquatch grabs the man.
"Ahhh!" screams Dad.
The man manages to get out his last words, "Here. Take my boot."
"I can't. It's your only boot," replies Dad.
"Take the boot man. Where I'm going, they don't wear boots or boot. Take it. I insist," says the man insistently.
Dad cries for what seems to be an eternity.
"I do have one last request. Can you tell my wife that I love her and that there really is a Big Foot?" exclaims the man.
But, it's too late. Dad has already made his getaway--both feet in one boot, hopping off in the distance.
"The sun appears to be falling away to the dark side of the Earth," says the man.
"Nope. That's just the shadow of a Sasquatch behind you bro," replies Dad.
The Sasquatch grabs the man.
"Ahhh!" screams Dad.
The man manages to get out his last words, "Here. Take my boot."
"I can't. It's your only boot," replies Dad.
"Take the boot man. Where I'm going, they don't wear boots or boot. Take it. I insist," says the man insistently.
Dad cries for what seems to be an eternity.
"I do have one last request. Can you tell my wife that I love her and that there really is a Big Foot?" exclaims the man.
But, it's too late. Dad has already made his getaway--both feet in one boot, hopping off in the distance.
Friday, December 21, 2012
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.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
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).
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).
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