Romantic Comedy: Extra Side of Love

EXT. DRIVEWAY - MORNING

AVA gets into her car and puts on her seat belt. BRIAN gets into his car and puts on his seat belt. They both roll down their windows.

BRIAN

I love you babe!

BRIAN puts his car into drive and starts to drive away.

AVA

I love you...more!

BRIAN slams on the brakes, puts it in reverse, parks the car and sticks his head out the window.

BRIAN

What the eff did you just say?

AVA

I said I love you, more!

BRIAN

That's bullshit and you know it!

BRIAN aggressively takes off his seat belt, gets out of the car and slams the door. AVA does the same.

BRIAN

My love for you is like a grilled cheese sandwich with crispy bacon inside of it!

AVA

Pfft. My love for you is like a double decker grilled cheese with bacon inside of it!

BRIAN

My love for you is like a triple decker grilled cheese with bacon inside of it, and extra bacon on the side!

AVA

Mmmm! My love for you is like a triple decker grilled cheese with bacon inside of it, and bacon on the side. But get this, there's no bread...the bacon is the bread!

BRIAN

Yum! My love for you is like all of that shit you just said, but with a side of cheese fries with bacon sprinkled on top...and the whole thing is deep fried.

(PAUSE)

AVA

Oh my God...That's a heart attack.

BRIAN

Yeah...I know...I would die for you.

AVA

I would die for you too.

BRIAN

Let's die together, but, when we're old.

AVA

Like The Notebook.

BRIAN

Exactly like The Notebook.

AVA and BRIAN embrace each other.

AVA

Let's call out of work.

BRIAN

I'm never going to work again.

They kiss and go inside their house.

BRIAN

(VOICE-OVER)

I'm glad you didn't go with the quadruple grilled cheese. Because that would have been impractical.

FADE OUT:

P Vision

        So, I was standing at the urinal. This guy walks up and stands at the urinal next to me. Now, just know that I didn’t look at his junk. However, my peripheral vision was really on point. So, I unintentionally got a glimpse. And all I wanted to say to the guy was, “Good for you.” But, uhh...so yeah, I did. I did it, I said, “Good for you.” And he was like, “Fuck did you just say?” That’s right. Mmm hmm. He left out the “what” and “the” and jumped straight to “fuck”. So, I thought to myself, “Good question. What did I just say?” And then I was like, “Oh yeah. I said, good for you.” He was like, “Are you trying to get your ass kicked?” It was then that I realized, maybe, just maybe I left the oven on, and also, that I might have pissed this guy off. Then, right off the cuff, I made a joke in my head which was, “Ain’t nothing like getting pissed off at a urinal.” And I laughed. The guy was like, “That’s a dumb joke.” You see, he heard me, because I accidentally said it out loud. I scrambled to think of a way to save myself. Then, I remembered I saw a ring on his finger and I said, “I think we’re having a classic misunderstanding. I noticed your wedding ring. And that’s why I said, “Good for you.” It's not easy finding “the one”. You’re a lucky guy. That’s all.” And he said, “I’m not married...That’s actually my cock ring.” I said, “Oh...well, so it is. I'm going to blame that on my peripheral vision. Do you know any good optometrists?”

Atomic Comic Competition

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGLHon_MmsU

Thinkpad June 14, 2017

1. It's unsettling when you have to take an Active Shooter class. But, it's even more unsettling when the instructor tells you, "A pen is a good weapon. And if it comes down to it, stab the shooter in his jugular." What!? Sheeeeit, I ain't Jason mutha fuckin' Bourne, mutha fucka. I think I'd be better off writing him a letter. "Dear Shooter. What can I say? Ummm, please don't shoot me. So...how's it going? How's work been treatin' ya? It's almost lunch time. Ever eat at Taco Bell? Their Cheesy Gordita Crunch is bangin'. Shit, I didn't mean to say bangin'. It's so bomb though. Fuck. I mean, it's very appetizing." At any rate, if anything ever happens...I'll be ready.

2. In the early years of photography, people generally didn't smile--which made for very somber photographs. Some say people didn't smile because of poor dental hygiene. But, some believe that people didn't smile because of long exposure rates on the cameras which made people reluctant to hold a smile for a long time. Man, can you imagine how sad a dick pic would have looked back then. Very somber. Very somber indeed. This is the reaction of a guy who got his dick pics developed back in the day.

3. At some point, somewhere, a kid had a problem with eating clothes. "Billy's always chewing through his t-shirts," they would say. So, to help out, the town confectioner created cotton...candy. Then one day someone said, "Damn, Billy. Quit eating your shoe laces." So, the town confectioner created shoe strings made out of licorice. And then, one day, the mayor shouted, "All of the townswomen are missing their...underwear. Where the hell is Billy?" Then the town confectioner exclaimed, "There's no fucking way I'm making edible panties!" But, as you know...he sure as shit did.

4. People hate to admit when they're getting older. I don't mind getting older. However, I do hate when I realize that I'm turning into my father. I hope it never gets as bad as this one incident. One day my dad meant to yell out for me, but he said, "Sean! No! Robert! Shit! Erin! Ah! Seamus! No! Ryan!" Sean, Robert, and Erin are my siblings. Seamus is the dog. My dad called out the dog's name before mine. That's fucked up.

5. I'm not racist, but...I was standing at a concession stand and in front of me stood an African-American man and his son who was probably like 7 years old (also African American). They ordered. The little boy got ice cream on a cone. Then he proceeded to sing the ice cream song. You know the one, "I scream. You scream..." Well, he sang, "I scream. You scream...We all yell for soft serve." Ummmm, what? I guess it's safe to say, he'll never be a rapper. The kid can't even finish a simple rhyme. Yikes.

Thinkpad June 8, 2017

1. Those Matthew McConaughey Lincoln commercials are pretty ridiculous. But, now he thinks he can just chill in the back seat. Which begs the question, "Who the fuck is driving the car!?"

2. The other day someone asked me, "Whatchu 'bout to eat?" I said, "I'm about to eat a cheese stick." He was like, "You're going to eat a cheese dick?" And I said, "No. I said cheese dick. Shit!" He had me convinced that I was about to eat a cheese dick. "That's it, I'm switching to Babybel."

3. One time I was watching people run in a marathon. Then I thought to myself, "This would be so much more interesting if they were all wearing clown shoes."

4. Post-it Notes come in handy when you have to label your...Post-it Notes.

5. When you're wealthy, you drink fine wine with your girl at a fancy art gallery. When you're poor, you drink Boone's Farm with your girl, beside the railroad tracks and wait for a train to go by.

GIRL

I wonder what this artist is trying to say here?

GUY

It's graffiti. It literally says what it's trying to say. It says Deez Nutz. Don't read too much into it. Now, pass me the bottle.

Legal Pad

I write all of my thoughts and jokes on a legal pad. I just hope no one ever takes legal advice from it. Excerpt from 10/21/2013:

Thought #147: I think it's okay to rob a bank, if you trick the teller into giving you the money.

TELLER

How can I help you today?

ROBBER

(Taunting)

You won't give me all that money behind the counter.

TELLER

Um......That is correct.

ROBBER

Pfft. Rosalita was right...You are a little bitch.

TELLER

Rosalita? The branch manager? She said that?

ROBBER

Yup. Are you really surprised?

TELLER

Rosalita.....She's the little bitch.

ROBBER

Whoa! Hey guy! That's derogatory.

TELLER

I know. I'm sorry. I just can't believe she said that.

(PAUSE)

ROBBER

(Taunting)

You won't give me all that money behind the counter.

TELLER

Oh yeah?

ROBBER

Uh-huh.

TELLER

Well...you're right.

ROBBER

Pfft. Kenneth was right...You are a pussy vag.

TELLER

Kenneth? The loan officer? Pussy vag? Pussy vag...that's just redundant.

ROBBER

Does that surprise you? Kenneth has two N's in his name...One would have sufficed.

TELLER

Very true. Has anyone else said anything about me?

ROBBER

Well, Marybeth thinks you're a slob.

TELLER

I spilled coffee on my shirt one time!

ROBBER

Stu thinks you're too nice, which inevitably makes you everyone's little bitch. And you don't stick up for yourself which makes you a pussy vag. So, Stu thinks you're a really nice, little bitch, pussy vag.

TELLER

God damn it!

ROBBER

Oh, and I heard they're going to fire you.

TELLER

What the fuck!? Who did you hear that from?

ROBBER

I overheard Rosalita telling Stu...who was also telling Kenneth, Marybeth and Chuck.

TELLER

Who the fuck is Chuck?

ROBBER

Oh, he's the guy that's taking your position.

TELLER

That's it! I'll show them! Here, take all the money behind the counter! Go! Go! Go!

Appreciation for Self-Deprecation

When I was a kid, I was little...a little bitch. And now, I'm a big bitch. By the way, going from little to big is usually a good thing. For instance, "When I was young, I played little league baseball. I kept at it. And today I'm in the big leagues...When I was young, I had a little dick. And today, it's slightly bigger." But no, it's quite different when it comes to being a bitch. I'm such an easy target because of that fact. That's why I try to beat people to the punch, and make fun of myself first. But, it doesn't always work out.

One day I was outside with a friend, enjoying the fresh air. The sun was beating on my face. I took a deep breath, smiled, and said, "Now, this is what life's about." Then suddenly a bird swooped down and almost hit me. And I shouted, "Ouch!" The bird didn't even touch me. I wasn't even hurt. But, I shouted, "Ouch!" I did one of those moves where you turn, arch your back, and put your hands up like you're afraid to touch something cacky. Side note: Not khaki, as in the color. I have a pair of khaki pants. I'm not afraid to touch them. If I was, I probably wouldn't wear pants to work. Side note deux: If I was ever in the military and I had to go into battle. You bet your ass I'd be running through a field, shouting, "Ouuuuuuuuuuuuu...ch!" So, after I almost got assaulted by a bird (Not the penis type--but, the flying type. And if your penis does have wings and can take flight, then shit, that's fucked up.) So, after I almost got impaled by a bird, I quickly said, "If I was a flower, I'd be a pansy. Ha!" Then my friend said, "Nah...You'd be one of those little flowers on a pussy willow." And I said, "Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeit. Yeah I would." Mothafucka took me out with that horticultural shit.

Childhood Memories

The Truth Hurts:

When I was a kid, I got punched in the nose and nearly bled to death. Okay, maybe I didn't really, nearly bleed, to death. But, I did bleed a lot--like a crazy amount of blood. Anywho, I can't really feel sorry for myself because I sort of deserved it. I talked some serious shit on this kid, and he walked up to me and punched me clean in the schnoz. However, that's not how my older brother remembers it. My older brother says to me, "That's not how I remember it. Here's how it really went down. You talked some serious shit on this kid. He walked up to you. Then he proceeded to do a karate warm-up/exercise, which lasted like 5 minutes, enough time for you to do something, like, step back, put your hands up, or I don't know, run the fuck away? But no, you just stood there...mesmerized by his Kung Fu. Then he punched the shit out of your face." It was kind of ironic, because once again I just stood there, but instead taking verbal abuse this time. Bewildered and frustrated by his recollection, all I could muster up was, "Um...no. That's not how I remember it!" Then I ran off like a little bitch.

Town Patrol:

When I was a kid, my older brother, two cousins Jenna and AJ and I formed our very own law enforcement called, Kid Cops. We even had our own catch phrase. While riding down the suburban streets on our Huffy's, we'd shout, "Kid Cops motherfucker!" (Sometimes at the most inappropriate moments) For instance, we rode by Mrs. Dutch while she was out in her garden on a beautiful day. Mrs. Dutch said, "Good morning kids!" And we responded with, "Kid Cops motherfucker!" I mean, she had to know who we were and that we were well respected in the community. Sure, we were just kids. But, we were also just cops, doing our job. Some might say we were "pretend cops". But hey, it sure felt real. The truth is though, we didn't do any good in our town. Actually, we just ran amuck and used an obscene amount of profanity--and brought zero joy and not one bit of justice to anyone. The great thing was that we were just kids and we couldn't be held accountable for our actions, legally. Because we were just in elementary school for Christ's sake. We sure did have fun though. Man, those were the days. Kid Cops forever......motherfucker!

Valentine's Day Hangover (Comedy Showcase)

https://youtu.be/uHsmI0HcvUs

Thinkpad 1/27/2017

1. I think it's okay to brag about being good in the sack. But, I don't think it's okay if you're actually referring to...potato sack racing. That's just something you shouldn't be bragging about. There's probably a guy out there who is an avid potato sack racer. That's the one thing he sort of has going for himself. He's probably at a dinner party just waiting for someone to ask him, "Can you pass the potatoes?"
"Speaking of potatoes..."

2. I've always been a little slow. I've always been behind--like 1 or 2...hundred steps. For example, back in high school my friends were talking about this masseuse that would give you a happy ending if you requested it. One friend said, "That's fucking awesome!" Another friend said, "Sign me up!" And I said, "Yummy!" I pondered, "Hmm, I wonder how she's affiliated with Friendly's." Later that day I went to the masseuse and got a massage. At the end, I asked for a Fribble.

3. Surveys ask you to rate something using a scale from 1 to 10. It's hard to narrow it down to just one number. I think they should go back to basics. "If you were happy with your service, and you know it, clap your hands. If not, then say Womp, Womp, Womp."

Parenting

Growing up I really didn't learn a whole lot from my parents--parenting wise. I wasn't focusing on what I could one day use as a parent myself, as far as skills and techniques. The only thing that did transfer is the old adage, "There are starving kids in China." So, the other night, when my daughter didn't want to eat her dinner, I told her, "Sweet Pea, there are starving kids in China." Apparently she felt pretty sympathetic toward the starving kids in China, because she ate her whole dinner. Score. I'm great at parenting.

Later that night my daughter didn't want to go to bed and this is the conversation that transpired.

DAUGHTER: I don't want to go to bed.

ME: You have to go to bed. 

DAUGHTER: Why?

ME: Because you'll be cranky tomorrow.

DAUGHTER: Why?

ME: Because you will have not slept.

DAUGHTER:Why?

ME: That's what we're trying to figure out right now...

(Pause)

DAUGHTER: Why?

ME: Look, there are tired kids in China. They're exhausted. Now go to sleep.

Prince

        I really dig Prince's music. He had an eclectic point of view and always laid down some funky fresh beats. It's interesting though, you can definitely tell which songs he wrote when he was sober and which ones he wrote when he was high. I'm pretty sure he was sober when he wrote songs such as Little Red Corvette and Raspberry Beret. Because, I saw a little red corvette once. And you know what? It was going much too fast. Raspberry Beret? Yup, I've seen one of those too, in a second hand store. I didn't buy it, but I did try it on. It didn't go with my outfit though. And Purple Rain...well, he was definitely fucked up when he wrote that one. If you're sober, you're thinking, "Purple Rain? What the hell is he even singing about?" But, if you're high, you're thinking, "Yes. The rain is purple. It's so...fucking purple." When Doves Cry? If you're sober, you're thinking, "I've never ever heard a dove cry, or any bird cry for that matter. And I'm sure it wouldn't sound like the music which follows the lyrics, "This is what it sounds like when doves cry."" But, when you're high, you're thinking, "...Yes. That is what it sounds like...when doves cry. I've heard it time and time again, and that is spot on." I swear if I ever hear a dove cry, and the sound of Prince's music comes out it's mouth, I will lose my shit and say, "Damn, Prince was right...or I'm just fucking stoned."

Squirrels be like

       One day I brought a ham and cheese sandwich to work. When I got to the break room, I checked my bag and my sandwich was missing. Where in the hell could it be? I informed the authorities, being the sheriff officers who worked in the building. But, they just looked at me like I was crazy. I said, "There's a ham and cheese sandwich missing. And you're not going to do anything about it? I guess I'll have to go at this alone. I just hope it's not lost forever or even worse, half eaten...If it was a donut, you'd give a shit!" (I shouted that last part from a distance, then took off running).

        So, I decided to do some backtracking, which was extremely hazardous, because I had to walk backwards the entire time." I got to the parking lot and suddenly I heard a certain sound, like, the sound of a sandwich in a Ziploc bag that just got stepped on. "Son of a bitch!" It must have fallen out of my bag when I got out of my car. Well, it's not like I still could have eaten it. It's been sitting on this asphalt for quite some time. So, I picked up the sandwich and threw it in the trash can right outside of the building.

        The next day I went to work and the sheriff officers were laughing. 

"Hey, I think I found your sandwich," said one of the officers. 

"Impossible! I closed that case yesterday. I found it in the parking lot. Then I threw it away in the trash can outside," I replied. 

"Ohhhh. That makes sense. Because I saw a squirrel on top of the trashcan this morning eating it. Now, picture that."

"I am, and it's a very odd picture. Was he holding it like you and I would?"

"Yeah. If he wasn't sitting on top of the trash can, and wasn't being all squirrel-like, then I would have thought, "Hey, now there's a guy enjoying a sandwich.""

"I guess I'm just a little flabbergasted. I thought squirrels only ate nuts. I can see if it was a PB & J, because of the peanuts. But no, this was a fucking ham and cheese fucking sandwich. I mean, where do we go from here? So now squirrels are just hanging around eating second hand sandwiches?"

"It appears so. At least it didn't go to waste."

"That's true. And I guess if I ever see someone trying to lure 
a squirrel in with a nut, I can say, "You're doing it all wrong! Here, try this ham and cheese sandwich."

Bob In A Box

Growing up, my dad was sort of a handy man. He was quick to fix things. Well, he was more or less quick to want to fix things (this excludes his attitude, temper, and general asinine way of thinking). But, he didn't necessarily get the job done in a timely fashion, nor did he conduct his work in the most practical way. Let's just say he was a Master Duct Taper & Caulksman who never completed his apprenticeship in Spackling. More often than not his projects were fueled by alcohol--beer specifically. With each beer, his perspective became slightly more askew. His measurements got progressively less accurate, to the point where my room looked like something out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory--where all of the walls started closing in. "Watch your head. I know, I'm sorry. It looks like an optical illusion. It's not though. It's just poorly constructed. I know, it does look like a drunk guy did it."

My dad has 6 stages of drunkenness. And these stages of drunkenness coincide with the progression of each project. Let's call this project: Studding and Sheet Rocking. The first stage is the happy go-lucky, free-form jazz stage. "We're just going let it flow...man." The quality of workmanship is good, and it's the best it's going to get for the remainder of the day. The next stage is the lovey dovey, adult contemporary/easy listening stage. "I'm in awe of what I'm creating. I'm going to sit back and admire it." The project is still looking pretty decent. The third stage is the argumentative, punk rock on a static radio stage. "Who the hell put all of these dashes on this tape measure? Fuck it, I'm just going to wing it. Fucking fuck! That's way off. I should have not winged it. Wung it? Wanged it? Shit. I'll just make up my own word...flubbnugg. Perfect. I will no longer flubbnugg it. They say it's okay if you talk to yourself, as long as you don't answer. Isn't that right? Yup. Damnit! You just answered yourself. I can't get a word in edgewise and I'm talking to myself. That's really bad. If Abraham Lincoln was around, he'd just cut down his own tree and use that wood. And then he'd snack on some cherries. He was a great president." The fourth stage is the belligerent, politically driven, hardcore death-metal stage. "Abraham Lincoln was an asshole! I should be president. I would send all of the assholes to their own island so they can battle it out. May the biggest asshole prevail! And then I would get rid of teacher's pensions." By this point, he has created an enclosed structure and has trapped himself inside of it. The fifth stage is the reminiscent, extremely emotional, awkward, cinematic, depressing soundtrack stage. "(Excessive crying)." The sixth stage is the quiet, glazed over, super awkward, introspective stage. "Where am I right now? Who the hell built this structure? It doesn't seem structurally sound. Sound...sound. I can't hear anything except my inner voice...which isn't audible at all. Which means I can't really hear it. I can't feel it, see it, taste it, smell it. It must be a new type of sense. I discovered a new sense! I'll call it...flubbnugg."

Man Oh Man

        Men are perverts. It’s true. There’s definitely something wrong with us. Even the really, really, really, really good guys have their moments. And trust me, I’m one of them. You’ll be driving down the road and see a girl jogging 200 yards away. Your initial reaction is to say something sleazy like, “Mmm girl!” moaning like you just enjoyed a delicious brownie--in fact you did. You wipe the crumbs off of your shirt because you're a slob.Then you begin talking like your favorite black entertainers. First you channel your inner Will Smith. “Don’t call me Mr. Rogers, but it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. You know what I’m sayin’? You know what I’m sayin’?” Then your Martin Lawrence comes out. “Deeamn Gina!” You don’t even know if her name is Gina. You don't even know who the hell she is. But, you continue to keep on, keep keepin' on. You start saying some really perverted stuff like, "Mmm girl, you got my crotch moaning and groaning. You got it groining. I just made up a new word. You make me want to be a rapper. For rizzle."

        Quickly approaching, about 30 yards away, you say something like, "Awww yeah. Awww yeah. Awww...no. That's a man. That is a man with a pony tail." You're so disgusted with yourself. "I can't believe I misread that. I can't believe I thought this guy was a chick. I can't believe...how tone he is. He must do a lot of squats. Because you don't get an ass like that just by jogging. Good for him. Good for his ass."

        You finally come within 20 feet of this guy. Then you realize, "Oh shit. I can't believe this...It's my Uncle Billy. Son of a bitch." Completely embarrassed and ashamed, you proceed to roll down the window, "Hey Uncle Billy! Lookin' good! You've been doing squats, haven't you? I knew it!" Then you turn to your wife who has been sitting next to you the whole time, "Say hello to Uncle Billy, honey." She just shakes her head and says, "There's something seriously wrong with you."

Some Women

This is about some women.

It's easy for some women to say to men, "You don't understand." It's easy to say because it's almost entirely true--it's almost a full proof argument. Men don't know what it feels like to have a period or give birth or go through one of the many things that only women have to endure. However, women shouldn't be able to use the "You don't understand" line, if it in fact can be comprehended by a man. Here is a little scenario which encompasses the types of rebuttals or responses that women use.

WOMAN

You don't even know.

MAN

Alright. Well, explain it to me then. I want to know.

WOMAN

I just...

MAN

You just what?

WOMAN

I just can't.

MAN

You just can't?

WOMAN

I can't even.

MAN

You can't even what?

WOMAN

I just can't even.

MAN

You just can't even...?

WOMAN

I can't deal.

MAN

So, you just can't even deal?

WOMAN

Exactly.

MAN

Oh...You just can't even deal with what?

WOMAN

I just can't even deal...with the Philadelphia Eagles losing to the San Francisco 49ers.

MAN

Awww, honey. Is that what all the fuss is about? It'll be alright. I feel the same way. There were just way too many incomplete passes and missed opportunities. Look, if you want, we could do a recap of the game and see how we can do better next time.

WOMAN

I can deal with that.

Color Me Dad

I'm a man. But, I'm a dad first. I'm a daddly man.  

My daughter is beautiful. Everyone tells me so. But, don’t worry; I’ll make sure it doesn't go to her head. People say that she looks like me. That’s great to hear because for the longest time I wasn't sure who she resembled. Then I started thinking: If my daughter is beautiful and she resembles me, does that make me a beautiful man? I mean, I’m not going to lie, I've been told that I’m very handsome—and not just by my mother. But, I've never been told that I’m beautiful. It’s probably just an unspoken kind of thing or politically incorrect thing. Whatever. So, I guess it’s safe to say that my daughter gets her beauty from me and not necessarily from her mother—which is usually the assumption. Not to take any beauty away from my wife, but maybe I’m just more beautiful.

I put the arm in karma. And by arm I mean muscle.

Being away from your child can be very hard. Sometimes a whole day seems like an eternity. Well, not an eternity. An eternity is just a ridiculous exaggeration isn't it? We’ll just say it can be somewhat unbearable. But, when you finally get home everything falls into place right? Nope, that’s not always the case. Sometimes you arrive home and your child wants nothing to do with you. That’s when you jokingly shout, “Go to your mother!” or “Go to your father!” This got me thinking: I'm going to wait for the next time my wife brings our daughter with her on a long day of shopping. When they arrive home I’m going to ignore my daughter and maybe throw a fit. No, two fits. After she has endured a little slice of karma, I’ll take her aside like one of those really dramatic scenes from Full House, and explain to her that, “You’ve just been karmaed! In your face!” Sure, it might be a little uncalled for, a little spiteful even. But, sometimes you can’t wait for real karma to come straggling along. Sometimes you have to conjure up some self-made karma (imitation karma if you will) roll it up, flatten it out, throw it in the oven, let it cool down,  slice it up and serve it.

The straw that helped get the camel addicted to narcotics and then maybe broke his back.

My daughter drinks from a sippy cup with a straw. The other day I caught her sticking the straw in her nostrils. Initially I laughed and told her to knock it the hell off. Then I started thinking: Addiction is a serious matter. I really don’t want her getting used to sticking straws up her nose. With that said, I think now is the perfect time to switch her from a sippy cup to a big girl cup.

Steak & BJ Day

Steak and BJ Day sounds pretty great. I just have a few questions and concerns.

1. Since it's indeed Steak and BJ Day, do I have to be eating steak while getting a BJ? Or can I eat it later, after the BJ--a post BJ snack if you will? Because it might be a little awkward getting a BJ while trying to enjoy a delicious steak. "Oh, I'm sorry honey, but can you hand me the A1? Just reach for it if you can. Further. Just a little further. No, that's the soy sauce. I'd get up, but you're giving me a BJ. So...There it is. You got it. Great, thanks. Oh wait, this one is expired. I guess we have to go to the grocery store. Let's take this on the road. I'll drive, obviously."

2. Moving forward. What is the limit on steak and BJs? Is it just one and done? Well, it's called Steak and BJ Day, "BJ" being singular. However, steak can be both singular and plural. Therefore, I could be getting more than one steak out of this deal. I think I found a loophole. Yes!

3. What if you're a vegetarian (which I am not, but I think it's only fair to them, the vegetarians, that they know how to conduct themselves on this particular day)? I guess it would just be BJ Day for the vegetarians. Better yet, what if you're a vegetarian but your woman isn't? Does she get to eat the steak? Or what if she's a vegetarian? Do you give yourself a BJ?

4. Are there restaurants that open their doors for such a day? For instance, are there any monogamous, couple friendly brothels that happen to serve a nice steak dinner? It's like those strip clubs that have a buffet. Maybe you'll be surprised to find out that the steak is just as good as the BJ. Or maybe the BJ is comparable to the steak--just as rare. Not for me though. Don't worry about this guy.

5. Would someone be allowed to take a personal day from work? "Well, as you know, it's Steak and BJ Day...enough said. I'll see you tomorrow."

6. Would Omaha Steaks sponsor this day? Probably not. But, I'm pretty sure if there was a guy out there named Blow Job, he would definitely sponsor Omaha Steaks.

7. I guess women can subtly tell us how they're feeling by what kind of steak they prepare for us. For example, if my wife fixed me some type of chuck steak, I would know that she's pissed off. Furthermore, I would anticipate a half- assed BJ.

8. It's time for steak...NY strip...not too shabby...Alright, I bought it myself. But, she's cooking it...Nope, it looks like I have to cook it myself.

MisadFriendtures of Ryan & Brandon: A Slice of Life

INT. RESTAURANT - EVENING

RYAN and BRANDON are sitting at a table in a restaurant called The Humble Cottage--a restaurant specifically used for dishing out humble pie, in a discreet, literal and metaphorical way.

RYAN

Well, I'm glad we had this conversation. And it's safe to say that someone just got served a slice of humble pie. Eat up.

There's a slice of pie in front of Brandon.

BRANDON

Nah. There must be some kind of mistake. I didn't order this and I most definitely am not in the mood for pie.

RYAN

Well, that’s kind of how humble pie works. You don’t necessarily have to be hungry to eat it. It's like leaving grandma's house. You don't need bags full of expired food, but she's going to give them to you anyway. So, hungry or not--

BRANDON

Oh I’m definitely hungry. I'm just not hungry for pie…What about cake? I can do cake.

RYAN

Hmm…I think that can be arranged.

Ryan flags down a waiter.

RYAN

Excuse me waiter. Can you take this pie and get my old friend here a slice of humble cake?

The waiter brings over a slice of cake and takes away the pie.

BRANDON

That's better...Oh fuck. Wait. I just remembered I gave up all sweets for Lent.

RYAN

Well, it seems as though we're in quite the quandary. You can't eat the pie. You can't eat the cake. How do you expect me to know that you've been humbled if you won't eat a fucking slice of something humbling? The pie's been sent back. We can’t possibly send the cake back too. That would be rude. 

BRANDON

Why don’t you eat it on my behalf?

RYAN

No, no, no. This is your humble cake, not mine. Plus, I've eaten this cake before. I’d be overindulging if I ate another slice. I’d be over-humbled. Too much of anything isn't good for you, especially cake. I’m pretty sure Barry White said that.

BRANDON

Well, I can’t eat it. I'm not a big fan of chocolate ganache anyway. Plus, God wouldn't approve.

RYAN

That's ridiculous. Everyone loves chocolate ganache. Whatever! Fine! We’ll send it back. But you better eat the next thing we order. What about Shepherd’s Pie? It’s savory, not sweet.

BRANDON

What's the matter with you (in Italian gangster fashion)? Didn't I say I didn't want pie? Didn't I just get done saying that? Shepherd's Pie. The word “pie” is in the name. Pie is pie no matter how you slice it. Plus, it’s peasant food.

RYAN

Oh, so you’re too good for it? Is that it? You know, most peasant food is delicious.

BRANDON

Spoken like a true peasant.

RYAN

Your mom was a peasant.

BRANDON

Oh yeah? Yeah? Yeah, she was.

RYAN

Okay then. What about crab cakes?

BRANDON

Jesus Christ, we’re back to cakes again?

RYAN

Well, his highness doesn't want pie. So what doth ye say to cakes of crab?

BRANDON

Actually, I could totally get into some crab cakes.

RYAN

Splendid. 

Ryan flags down the waiter.

RYAN
Excuse me my good man. Can I get some humble crab cakes for my old friend?

BRANDON
Oh fuck, look at the time. Can I get those to go? I really need to be heading out.

RYAN
Are you fucking for real right now? 

BRANDON
Yup. I have to go home and pray with my wife.

RYAN
God damn it. You're definitely going to eat these humble crab cakes though, right?

BRANDON
Definitely. I pinkie promise and swear to God. I pinkie promise God.

Brandon reaches his pinkie upwards and pretends to hook pinkies with God.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE HUMBLE COTTAGE - EVENING

Brandon is walking to his car--doggy bag in hand. An African-American panhandler comes out of nowhere.

PANHANDLER

Hey, psst, hey my man. Let me get a few bucks.

BRANDON

What?

PANHANDLER

Said, "Let me get a few bucks."

BRANDON

Oh, I don't have any money. Sorry.

PANHANDLER

What's that jingling in your pocket?

BRANDON

Really? You're listening for change jingling in my pants? First of all, those are my car keys. Secondly, I wouldn't give you money even if I had it. You'd probably just spend it on drugs or booze. Now, if you're hungry, I have a bag full of humble fucking crab cakes. You're more than welcome to--

PANHANDLER

Pfft. I don't want no fuckin' crab cakes man.

BRANDON

Humble fucking crab cakes. Get it right Jack.

PANHANDLER

My name ain't Jack, Jack.

BRANDON

Well, my name ain't Jack either.

PANHANDLER

Yeah well, you look like a Dilbert or some shit.

BRANDON

Well you just look like some shit. So...

PANHANDLER

That ain't cool man. You don't know what I've been through. You don't know my story. You don't know what kind of tricks I had to turn in order to get this jacket.

BRANDON

Jeez. You had sex in exchange for a jacket?

PANHANDLER

No. I'm talkin' 'bout magic tricks man. I made my bunny disappear.

BRANDON

That's pretty cool. I'd like to see that. Can you show me that trick?

PANHANDLER

Didn't you just hear what I said? I made my bunny disappear. I don't know where the fuck she went.

BRANDON

Damn. That's rough. Well, I'm sure she'll turn up. Rabbits usually like carrots.You should try--

PANHANDLER

Bunny's the name of my wife.

BRANDON

Oh fuck. Damn. Wait, you made your wife disappear?

PANHANDLER

Yeah.

BRANDON

Do you know how incriminating that sounds?

PANHANDLER

She always hated my magic tricks. Now she's stuck in one of them.

BRANDON

Hmm. Do you think maybe your "magic" is just a metaphor for some real reason why your wife disappeared--or left you?

The Panhandler begins to sob.

BRANDON

I'm sorry man. I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm just really good at deciphering shit. Listen, why don't we go inside the Humble Cottage and I'll buy you a slice. Do you like Shepherd's pie?

PANHANDLER

It's my favorite.

BRANDON

Of course it is.

PANHANDLER

I thought you said you didn't have any money.

BRANDON

Of course I have money. I just told you that because I didn't want you--

The Panhandler pulls out a knife.

PANHANDLER

Gimme that money fool!

BRANDON

Oh fuck...is that a real knife? Or is it a prop for your magic show?

PANHANDLER

I'm not really a magician, man.

BRANDON

And what about Bunny? Is she really lost inside a magic trick?

PANHANDLER

No man. I just said I'm not a magician. There ain't no real Bunny.

Brandon hands over the money.

BRANDON

Damn. My man! You went all method on me. You really had me convinced. Have you ever thought about acting? There's a great workshop right around the corner. They have classes on Tuesday nights. You should really check it out.

PANHANDLER

(Real British accent)

I'm currently starring in an off Broadway show which I won't disclose to you because then you'll know how to find me. But, it's going rather well. Future's looking bright. I don't get paid very well though. That's what this is all about. It gives me the chance to practice my craft as well as have a steady income.

BRANDON

Right on...Well, I wish you nothing but the best.

PANHANDLER

Toodle-oo!

The Panhandler runs off. Brandon stands there in amazement. He reaches in his doggy bag, pulls out a crab cake and bites into it.

BRANDON

Tooda-fuckin-loo.

FADE OUT: