TV Shows That Should Be Produced

1. Long Lost Brohan

It's a dramedy about Frank, an American truck driver who accidentally smuggles in a man named Brohan, who happens to be his long lost Mexican twin brother. Frank is conflicted with following his morals or following his heart when he finds out that Brohan is on Mexico's Most Wanted list. Both roles will be played by Christopher Walken.

2. Phillip and the Shpants

It's a drama/fantasy about Phil, a tailor who hates midgets. One day Phil finds a magic time traveling coin in the pocket of a pair of short pants that he's hemming. He finds himself stuck in a land inhabited by midgets who happen to hate average sized humans who are tailors. The role of Phil will be played by Danny Devito. All of the midgets will be played by different versions of Will Ferrell.

3. Pink is the New White: The Arctic Ninja

Neil is a snow ninja and he always wears a white ninja suit. One day his mother accidentally washes his suit with a load of red clothes. Ut oh. Now his suit is pink. To make matters worse, Neil's mother is sick. Therefore, Neil has to go on a journey to acquire a special herb so his mother can live. Time is ticking and Neil has to get to the top of the mountain, unnoticed by the evil snow ninja. He just might get heckled on the way because of his pink suit. Then again, he might question his sexuality on this voyage. But, who knows? He just might take a liking to the new pink. Neil will be played by Charlie Day. His mother will be played by Betty White.

4. Don't Fill In That Hole

Chuckie has everything going for him. After watching Forrest Gump, Chuckie gets inspired and goes for a run in the middle of no where. Suddenly Chuckie falls into a sink hole. He awakes and finds himself in a land that's a cross between Fraggle Rock and the movie Labyrinth. Did he bump his head? Is he just dreaming? Or did he actually find some underground world? Or is he dead? Maybe there's some mysterious gas burning underground and he's just high as all hell. Either way, some villainous contractor is going to want to buy the land and fill in that hole. Chuckie needs to find a way out of this dream, find a way out of this world he fell into, or both. The role of Chuckie will be played by Michael Richards (a.k.a. Kramer from Seinfeld).

5. Write On, Man

Bonnie is a bona fide starving artist. She's a screenplay writer and she hasn't eaten in days. One night Bonnie gets drunk, watches Good Will Hunting, and gets pissed off because no one wants to buy any of her scripts. However, she finds inspiration in Good Will Hunting and decides that she's going to become a janitor in one of the movie studios near her house. When the time is right, she's going to write out an entire script on a dry erase board where everyone can see. Conflicts: Maybe they don't use dry erase boards. Maybe they use chalk boards and Bonnie doesn't bring a single stick of chalk. Maybe they can tell that Bonnie isn't really a janitor and get suspicious of her and the fact that she carries around Screenwriting For Dummies. I don't know. The role of Bonnie will be played by Amanda Bynes.

Mr. Pick-up Man

Pick-up lines & Conversation Starters:

1. If I had a time machine, I would travel to the past just so I could travel...back to the future...to see you. Get the Back to the Future reference? What? You've never seen BTTF? What kind of stupid idiot are you?

2. I know where I've seen you before. The waiting room. I was there to get a colonoscopy. You were there to get a colonoscopy. Man, we sure did have a lot in common. Do you want to get out of here and get something to eat?

3. Once I wrangled a snake with my bare hands...in my garden...Okay, so yeah, it was a garden snake. But, it put up a good fight, before I beat it with a shovel. I'm not proud of it. Actually I feel really bad. But, that's what life is about--making important decisions in dire times...So, anyway, I do have a garden--with the plumpest tomatoes.

4. This martini tastes like shit...more like a fartini. Am I right ladies?

5. Let's go back to my place (Lead her to the alleyway behind the bar where your cardboard mansion awaits). This is where I live. No, I'm not homeless. Clearly, this is a home--it has French doors. They're just made out of pizza boxes, plastic wrap  and other paper products that I may or may not have trash picked. The bar is my real home though. No, I'm not an alcoholic. However, I do drink every day--mostly beer that's leftover by the local patrons. Anywho, you should probably get going. My parents will be home soon. They don't like me bringing home strange girls. Can I get your phone number though? You can just write it on my roof.

The Inner Kid

I love it when people call you a "big kid" just because you feel like acting like a child every once in a while. God forbid. They make it sound like it's a bad thing, like you're Lenny from Of Mice & Men. It's not like you're going to tend to some rabbits and accidentally kill them.

        It's all about keeping in touch with your inner kid. So what if I get giddy when I think of eating an ice cream cone with jimmies on top down by the sea shore? And so what if it's accompanied by a silly little dance that looks like I really have to take a piss? And so what if I do have to take a piss, but I'm just holding it in because I'm really excited about eating some ice cream with jimmies down by the sea shore.

        So what if I attend a wedding and all I want to do is drink Shirley Temples, run around in circles chasing the other kids, and occasionally dance, sweating out large amounts of soda pop? Sometimes I just want to get that good old fashioned sugar high until I crash in the middle of the dance floor--but not before throwing up. If I drink alcohol and dance the night away, at some point I will throw up. So, either way, be it by an excess of alcohol or an excess of sugar, I'm going to throw up.

        So what if I want to ride a big wheel for old time sake? I wouldn't fit on one of course. But, with the right modifications I could fit and I could be the coolest "big kid" on the block. That's part of the proverbial dream along with finding Never Never Land and always, always being a Toys R Us kid (if I could type the backwards "R" I would).
        When you have kids, you can live vicariously through them, which is the ultimate pass for reliving your childhood. If you're a man, you secretly can't wait to have a son, so you can retrieve your box of action figures from underneath your bed that you've been hiding there for like, well, ever since you discovered girls. But, then you'll get pissed off when your 1 year old just wants to smash the action figures together. You'll try to teach him about finesse, capabilities of each action figure, spinning back kicks and such--but unlike the action figures, he won't be so easily controlled. So, you'll have to wait until he gets a little older. Then you can help him become the coolest kid on the block, which would make you the coolest "big kid" on the block--sort of like Robin Williams from the film Jack, but with less hair hopefully. Then there'll come a time when you realize that you're not a big kid. You're not a big kid at all. You're someone's father. But, maybe you'll be the best damn father on the block--the cool dad. We all have to become adults, but it doesn't mean we can't feel what it's like to be a kid again. We'll do the same things we used to do, except we'll do it with beers in our hands instead of Capri-Suns.

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The Asshole Majority

You can’t be that person who goes around saying, “I don’t ask for much” with a pathetic woe is me overtone--because honestly, no one gives a shit. It’s never give and take. It should be. But, it’s not. If you’re not taking, then you’re most likely giving and people are just going to exploit the shit out of your generosity. Have you ever wanted to just say “No” for the simple reason that you just don’t feel like doing whatever it is that someone is trying to get you to do? Isn't that a good enough reason? For most people, it’s not. They’ll question your answer because they expected you to say yes in the first place. They’ll ask, “Why?” as if it’s any of their God damn business. And all you’ll want to respond with is, “Because I don’t want to motherfucker.” It’s exactly like saying no to drugs. A part of you wants to say yes because it’s easier to escape with drugs than it is to deal with reality. But you know deep down inside that drugs aren't good for you. It’s true. But, you know what? The stress and aggravation of giving in to all of these selfish bastards isn't healthy for you either. Isn't your health worth it? Yes. Yes it is my friends. So, the only way to rise above and truly be happy is to not give a shit and totally disregard any feelings--people's feelings and your feelings of guilt and obligation. Therefore you have to transform into an asshole. Not just any asshole, but an inconsiderate asshole. Furthermore, you have to own this new lifestyle,  be one with your inner asshole, and flaunt it. So, when it comes down to it, your goal is to be a proud, inconsiderate asshole. Just make sure you don't deliberately go around and carelessly treat people like shit for no reason. Because then you're just a dick. Don't be that dick--the dick who thinks he's just an asshole. It is possible to be a good person and an asshole at the same time. You can offer to do something really really really really great (because you genuinely want to) and then set the boundaries by saying, "Just know for the next time that I'm not helping out. I ain't helping out for shit. I'll let you know when I feel like being generous again. If you happen to slip up and ask me for a favor, I'm going to have to tell you to fuck off. Okay old lady that's bagging my groceries?" So, there it is. Just call all the shots and you'll have nothing to worry about. Sounds easy, right? I'll let you know, when I decide to stop being a little bitch.

The Upside of Defeat

        Dead-end job. I feel a pivotal moment approaching. Sometimes I get this sudden jolt of adrenaline. It seems to come when I’m just sitting and staring—especially when I want to be anywhere but here. I picture myself standing up in an epiphanous rage, puffing out my chest, turning to the door, and running the hell out of this place. Then the realist in me says, “Hello. You can snap out of it now. You’re still sitting and staring. You’re not going anywhere. Are you? (Painfully sarcastic)”. Then in an attempt to defy my inner realist I shout, “Yes I am…going…somewhere (Painfully awkward).” I look down at my dress shoes wishing I had worn my running shoes that I coincidentally never use for running—maybe for casual Fridays, a quick run (and by run I mean drive) to pick up a gallon of milk, or maybe a brisk walk, but never for running. Then I sprint for the doorway, clumsily knocking over my trashcan which spills out crumbled up papers with doodles on them and half written plans for my future. I get ten feet and my moral compass directs me back to the trashcan where I clean it up and place it on that discolored spot on the floor next to my desk. I proceed to sprint, make it through the doorway and turn left. And there it is—the door to the outside world. It’s more than just a door (trying to be poetic). No…it’s really just a door. Like any other door, it opens and shuts. I don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Okay, fine, I hesitate for about 4.5 seconds, before I charge the door like a goat charging another goat, no…like a rhino charging some poachers. I slow down to the pace of careless mallrat to avoid an embarrassing slam my face into the door moment. Suddenly an elderly lady cuts me off and proceeds to take her time. Then, in one swift motion I cut her off and open the door for her. She eventually makes it through and says, “Thank you.” I take off running whilst shouting, “You’re welcome!” I make it like twenty feet (give or take a few size 11 footsteps) when the old lady replies, “Huh? What?” I turn around and run toward the old lady to reiterate my previous words. But, my long stride and intense look on my face scares her off. At this point I’m only 10 feet from my place of work. I stand and stare off into the distance, wipe the sweat from my forehead and exclaim, “God damn! It’s friggin’ hot out here!” Then I hear the words, “There’s always tomorrow,” echoing in my head. “Is it the realist in me giving it to me straight? Is it my moral compass steering me away from a rash storm into a rational peninsula? Or maybe it’s just my lazy conscience blowing smoke up my ass,” I whispered to an impressionable young boy. “Get the hell away from my son, creep! Get the hell out of here!” shouted the boy’s mother. As she shooed me away, I had an epiphany. “I will get the hell out of here, over-reacting angry mother,” I proclaimed. Then I started running. “Remember Benny, there isn’t always tomorrow!” I shouted. “My name’s Zack,” replied the little boy. I ran. And I ran. I ran so far away. Three blocks later I was gassed. It was at that exact moment when I realized that I had no idea where the hell I was going. Actually, I experience that moment almost every day. I guess the moral of the story is: If you’re not going anywhere, then you don’t have to run to get there. Essentially you’re running in place. So you might as well buy a treadmill. But, it looks like I’m exercising again. And that’s the upside.

I Think I Get It Now

        I think I understand pessimistic people now. Whenever they experience some type of pain, they immediately have a diagnosis for it. It’s like they want it to be worse than it could be. It’s like they’re looking forward to it. It’s like they’re just dying to be right. Whenever I experienced some kind of pain I would say, “Oh it’s probably nothing. It’ll probably go away.” In most cases I was right. I always thought it had something to do with a negative or hopeful state of mind. But, no, that’s not it. Quite recently I learned that I hate my job. Then I started experiencing pain in my right wrist. “Hmm, could this be arthritis? Ew (the excited kind of ew), maybe it’s carpal tunnel syndrome! I believe you can get surgery for that, and who knows how long I’d be out of work (hopefully forever),” I whispered. Okay, let’s pros and cons the shit out of this mother lover.

Pros & Cons of surgery on right hand and recovering on Workers’ compensation:

Pros:

-        I won’t be spending my days doing boring, monotonous work.

-        I’ll have time to work on things I’m passionate about.

-        I won’t feel like a useless zombie at the end of the day—a zombie who doesn’t want to eat brains, a zombie who especially doesn’t want to eat brains. I don’t want to eat brains.

-        Some of my soul might be restored.

-        I’ll be happier.

-        I’ll be living the proverbial dream.

Cons:

-        I’ll have to use my left hand to wipe my ass.

Hmm. The pros severely outweigh the con. Well, it looks like I’m going to have to wipe my ass with my left hand. I guess I should practice. Excuse me. I’m going to get started.