Bible Study : Matthew 25:40

Frankly, I am not very good at giving people the benefit of the doubt. I often jump to false conclusions about people because my mind takes the first thing it sees and runs off with it.

Most of the time it is completely innocent. The security guy in the building lobby never says hi back to me: he must be clinically depressed. The girl on the train doesn't try to start a conversation with me: she must be homosexual. Obama doesn't return my fan mail: he must be too busy working back channels trying to figure out which position in his cabinet he would like for me.

These, as I say, are innocent. While it might be unfair for me to think that the guy in the lobby is clinically depressed. It doesn't hurt anyone. Sure I might pass and give him my most piteous smile, as if to say "buck up big guy, everything is going to be okay." I mean who doesn't need more of those kinds of smiles in their day. That he doesn't reciprocate is fine. He needs to concentrate his energies on more important things. Reconnecting with his inner child, a long lost parent, or girlfriend with whom he obviously has unfinished business.

They expose my inner compassion, my deft interpersonal prowess, and my fierce love of humanity in its myriad forms.

It's those times when things aren't so innocent that I feel so bad.

"Oh, that guy is walking soooo weird. Why would he walk like that?" Turns out, it's because he has a prosthetic limb. How was I supposed to know that? "Holy weird, that girl keeps looking at me funny. What's her deal?" Turns out, her entire face is a skin graft. Well pardon me. Don't get your panties in a wad.

"These don't hurt anyone either" you say? Yeah well maybe not, but they make me look bad. And that is just unacceptable.

Since this has burned me so often in the past, I have learned to wait a beat before making any conclusions. Just hold off a second, Brett. Maybe you're tarnishing your image with this one. Maybe that guy with the shopping cart has a reason for yelling incoherently. Yes. Yes, Brett, he does. It turns out, he's not shopping at all. No, he's homeless and probably insane. See, that's your reward for patience.

So today, when I got to work, I had to go to the bathroom. I was in a rush, but no amount of urgency could have kept me from noticing that the first urinal I get to is completely covered in piss. There's piss on the bowl, piss on the walls, piss on the floor in a splattery halo around my feet.

The old me would say, "Oh great, some moron forgot that he was a grown ass adult and decided to try to hit the urinal from across the room." or "Yay, just my luck. An inconsiderate asshole lost control of his stream and didn't bother to clean up after himself."

That was the old me.

Given my history, I have to wait a beat. Think it through. Take that person's circumstances into consideration.

And then, like fire from the gods, my Promethean brain hands down the true story. The tragic hero of our tale it seems has been living with a dire problem. He is a business executive, working his life from the bottom rung to the top with a horrible stigma to overcome. Were his colleagues to find out, he may have never become a middle manager. If the proverbial cat got out of the proverbial bag, this inspiring story may have been lost to the annals of American bigotry. It seems that this unassuming soul has a little known condition called Exploding Penis Syndrome.

And then the sympathy kicks in. What would I do if every time I tried to pee, my penis just exploded and reformed before my eyes? Oh, I would weep. I would wail. I would quit my station in embarrassment to roam this great country in search of some lowly Exploding Penis Colony. But it was obvious from the drippy foot prints that trailed out of the bathroom that this was no ordinary man. He did not run. He walked. Strolled. Coolly even. He washed his god forsaken hands! This is no man to pity. This is a man that holds himself to a higher standard and so we must as well.

I only had disdain for the judging eyes as they passed me prostrate on the floor. My papertowelled hands cleaning his pee in an act of reverence.

As Jesus said, "Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

And if you don't think I would clean-up Jesus' exploding piss, then you are very much mistaken, my friend.


-Brett

And that's How the Word 'Brunch' came to be...

Once upon a time a man named Alex Schoenbaum sat down at a "very awkward time of the day for lunch". He had slept in till ten after a night of trouble-making and cruisin' and this lead to a tug of war between his belly and his natural eating cycle. He didn't know if he wanted the scrambles and honey dew, or burgers and taters, but the fact of the matter was that his belly was screaming for something "goooood".

"Whoa," he said in front of a bunch of his friends, "I'm really confused right now. I can't tell if I want breakfast or lunch." Well since all of his friends partook in the previous night's debauchery they were all on the same plane as far as their belly's confusion with their minds. They thought really hard for a while and ripped open a bag of little suckers. (Not the tiny Dum-Dums, but the god thick quarter-shaped kind) Two hours and a family sized bag of suckers later, Old Schoenbaum came to an obvious, but brilliant conclusion. "I don't give a shit what we call it, it's all grease and it's all gonna be shit by Monday night football time. Let's just call it brunch and get the fuck on with our lives."

Well. Get the fuck on with his life, he did. Essentially, he erected a buffet that that divided the Buffet soldiers from the Girly-girl Weah-weah babies. It stretched from its origin, Charleston West Virginia all the way to the outer edges of the Midwest. You could think of it as a metaphorical sister project to the Great Wall of China. Okay, well just say it was a pretty damn big buffet, and it was an overnight hotspot for after-church minglings.

One of his friends had the next brilliant idea. "Hey Schoeny, this is such a popular place to be, you should name it."

In classic Schoeny fashion, he replied, "That's it. We'll just call it Shoney's and get the fuck on with the blueprints for a legendary buffet."

320 current locations and millions of full bellies later, he leans back with a glass of Sangria in his navy blue hot tub and says ".......Brunch". (arrogant chuckle) "......Stupid motherfuckers".



Well, as former Sunday frequenter of this legendary buffet, I have one thing to say to Alex Schoenbaum and his army of bussers.

Thanks for all the pancakes and suckers. I love you.

-anthony

I need to get a job on the McCain campaign.

For all of the RNC's lavish spending on Palin in the past month, I just read that Palin's make-up lady was the highest paid person in the McCain campaign during the first two weeks of October. $22,800 for two weeks of make-up expertise.

And let's face it here. It's not like you're trying to make McCain look like George Clooney. This is Sarah Palin. I mean for all the psychoness and nobrainitude, she is at least passably attractive. $23,000 better get her looking like Mrs. America. But maybe she has an uphill battle to climb. Maybe if you remove all the make-up you get THIS.


Reagan's out there somewhere ya know, hanging out with Elvis, and Jimi, and Tupac. In some dive bar in Montana, just drinking and laughing with those guys. And Kurt Cobain is there playing darts. And Chris Farley is like the totally funny/big-brotherly bartender guy. But Reagan is definitely the ringleader. Keeping the guys focused for there eventual reemergence as the League of Six: Ultimate Fighting Force! At least that's how it is in Anthony and I's dreams.

Or maybe this. is little more plausible. Zombie Reagan '08!

SOMETHING OF THE DAY!

Now that we've covered fun party hats, today's topic is religulous.

FREAKY RELIGIOUS PROPOGANDA OF THE DAY!













REAL REAL REAL SOON!

This is the condensed version, but you get the point.

A few things to note:
- All "scientific facts" pulled straight from the Focus on the Family handbook.
- The title of this one was "That Crazy Guy" in reference to this swinging cat.
- Make sure to check out such other fun reading as Stairway to Hell, How to be a Successful Example of What Not to Do, and Please Come Into My ?$@#*, Lord Jesus.


Have a great weekend now. And don't forget Jesus will protect you from AIDS so go have a good time!

Asking the important questions:

Last night, I was talking to my wife about our landlord. Not a big fan of our landlord. So, I off-handedly mentioned something about strangling her (the landlord, not my wife).

My wife of course at that point calls me out on saying that I would strangle our landlord, because she is a woman. "I have never heard a man say he would strangle another man," she says. "You would say you would kick a man's ass, but a woman you would strangle." At first I was defensive, but she's right, and I told her so. Why perpetuate that kind of power myth and submission by violence? A woman should be one's equal. A woman should be on the same footing as a man and should from there be judged by her own merit.

So, of course, this begs the question, "What is the politically correct way to torture a woman?"

My wife didn't have a lot of answers to that one.

I will take suggestions in the comment section. I need to know by the time rent is due. Thanks.

-Brett

Brett Doesn't Wear Underwear Much

(See Brett's question 2 posts below)

Yesterday was definitely a good day as far as our friendship goes, but I was/am sick. You think I have time in between self pity and watching my back in times of desperate economic turmoil to worry about your fly?

And on top of that, you don't wear underwear. That means that your supremely sensitive balls should have picked up on the extra air flow and told your brain to tell your grimy fingers to take care of it yourself.

Where oh where does personal responsibility fit into today's cut throat friendships?

-Anthony

SOMETHING OF THE DAY!

Regular bloggers are the best. You can tell they have drive and purpose and they really believe that people are hanging on their every word. Which of course they are. Which is to say I are.

While I might not blog daily [or even weekly or monthly], I do refresh my browser about every 30-40 seconds in case something new happens on the internet, hanging on every word so as not to miss anything. I would so hate to be the 2nd or 3rd person to see that delicious new morsel of hilarity that my obscure friend posted on his/her even obscurer blog. If I don't read that NYTimes article or see the newest viral video on YouTube within minutes of it's posting, I'm frankly not terribly interested.

Last I checked sloppy seconds was a bad thing.

In an effort to engage our readers and put our mark on our tiny little-trod corner of the intersphere, I present to you:

SOMETHING OF THE DAY!

Damn. Wish that could have been a little more impressive.

Anyway, some people have Quotes of the day or pictures of the day or news quizzes or whatever. We're going to focus on that last category. The whatever part.

So without further ado, here is

SOMETHING OF THE DAY!



It's a guy with a chili pepper for a hat! Oh man, what will the internet think of next.

Tune in again tomorrow for another harrowing installment.


-Brett

I won't say I'm feeling betrayed, but...

So, we were hanging out, ya know, working all day yesterday, and we were getting on well. I won't say it was Earth shattering, but definitely pleasant and I felt like our friendship was stronger for it. You laughed at my jokes, I engaged your arguments, we ate some chips and dip. Good stuff.


So here's the question, Anthony:

When were you planning on letting me know my fly had been unzipped the whole time?









From your silence, I'm going to guess never. And here I thought I was beginning to know you.



-Brett

Bit of a Peeve

One thing that i think is annoying that is really becoming quite the trend is when people try to brag about the intellectual things that they do and label themselves as "nerds". I'm sorry if you fall into this category (I do it too), but you must know that it is a transparent trait. Here are some examples:

"...yeah, I was going to go out, but then, oh god I'm such a nerd, I ended up getting really into 'Faulkner's essays of a Tyrant' and before I knew it, the night was over."

-Yeah, you clearly just didn't feel like going out, and also wanted to let us know that you read superior subject matter, that no one else has the patience for. Obviously, you don't think you're a nerd for it or you would be insecure about and not tell us. Nobody asked. Remember that.

"...Well, I thought Tropic Thunder was good, God I'm such a dork, I watch movies differently though, like from a director's point of view and, like breakdown the exposition and character development and so forth. It's such a plague to have to watch movies like that."

-No. You choose to watch movies like that. It's fine to say it and then have a conversation about the mechanics and structure of the movie if you want. But don't assume that no one else has ever thought about how a movie is made, just because you had a film class or two in college.

"...I know, I'm lame. I can't get anything done throughout the rest of the day unless I run 4 miles in the morning."

-Usually this is paired with having a very good body and positive personality, which I love in people. But it is, in no way, lame to run in the morning. you're better for it and that is why you do it. And you know damn well that everyone else wishes that they ran every morning, but they don't have the discipline to do it.

I don't hate the people that do this at all. I just don't see the point in not being up front about it and be proud of what you're interested in.

Sorry I haven't blogged in forever.

Anthony

Do yourself a Favor

"Like instead of wanting to be more frugal with my water usage or curb my carbon emissions, I rather was filled with a desire to cut down a tree, shove it up an endangered panda’s ass, strap the panda to the hood of a Hummer and drive to an Arby’s parking lot to give away free nuclear bombs to obese children."

This is just a little shard of brilliance that you could be ingesting if you were to check out my friend Mark's blog.

Your welcome, you low life's. You're stupid and illegit for not having found it yourself.

Threesomes intrigue me

What percentage of people out there have had a threesome (over the age of twenty-one)? And what happens afterwards? Do you kiss both people in the morning? Is it okay to start up again in the morning in the same bed as the other "sleeping" partner?

i think a three-way shower would be the shit. i also think a three-way haircut would be awesome. Would a three-way break up be a third worse than a regular break up?

(Me breaking up with my two girlfriends)

Anthony: Hey Cindy, could you tell Amanda that I don't love her anymore and I think we should never talk again, then listen to what she has to say right after that because she has some important information about the fact that I no longer want to ever talk to you again and I've fallen out of love.

Cindy: Wait, explain that again.

Anthony: Okay (sigh) once upon a time I used to love two girls named Cindy and Amanda at the same time. They funded me when I was broke, they gave me rides to work and brought home gifts on Sundays to make my Stormy Mondays better.

Cindy: And by They, you mean us?

Anthony: See! This is exactly it! Not everything is so black and white! Sometimes you have to except that things live in the gray!

Cindy: You're late for work. And I know I said I would, but I'm not taking you today because you are being a jerk!

Anthony: Right! Right! Just bail out again! Bail on everything that has ever meant anything to you in this world! You know what Cindy! You spread yourself to thin. That's your problem!

Cindy: What do you mean by that? I don't even think you know what expression really means.

Anthony: See?! You want everything wrapped up in your perfect little package so that it doesn't stress your little brain. Well I'm through wrapping gifts! Christmas came late, and I'm scared Cindy! God I'm Scared and hungry...cold, tired, I'm so exhausted from the stress of this concrete jungle...

Cindy: Bye bye, dude. You suck. And who's Amanda?

Anthony: See?!

(she slams the door in my face and regrets ever having met me)

It's all real.

Dreamy Dreams

I had a dream last night that I roundhouse kicked a cigarette out of my friend Kevin Barret's mouth. We were at a bar and he was wasted and starting trouble with some troublemakers who outnumbered us big time. Then when I kicked his lit cigarette, everyone was distracted and it diffused the whole conflict.

Not very noteworthy, i know, BUT then I had this other dream which seemed to be hours later with my family in a run-down mansion where we were eating in a "nonbroken" home, I referred back to that other dream and told the roundhouse story. My happy unified family just laughed and laughed.

I wonder if that means my mom and dad are going to get back together after 24 years of divorce and barely speaking to each other? Also my dad started smoking again after 10 years or so. So that's another weird thing.

"These dreams protect me from the cold outside,
Every moment of the night,
I live another life."

Who sang that song? Anyone? I'm seriously asking, I don't remember.

Why is it that the older women get, the more their perfume smells like the inside of a funeral home? Flowers included....

There is this old lady here at work that always wears sunglasses inside and dies her hair a very unnatural jet black, AND her perfume smells stale and expired. She really cakes it on too, so it is kind of an unavoidable thought when I am in close quarters with her. I wish her all the best because she's a very nice lady, but holy Groucho Marx! Give me a reason to believe!

Fashion and Reality

I'm not saying that I am the ultimate example of modesty or anything, but I just had this thought:

I've found my attention and efforts towards fashion and appearance dwindling in the past five years significantly. The closer I get to the age of thirty, I've thought about this and I've never been able to put it into words, but I think I'm close.

When I see someone that is heavily coated in whatever "boldest/latest" clothing that that given demographic leans towards, I always expect more from them. Because if they are just a bland person with eye for Polo sport coats in the summer, elbow piercings, tight neon green jeans, or a loose fitting Ocean Pacific tank top, I have to say that that person only has downward to go when meeting new people. Not that I think I am in the position to judge people's clothing (But I am), but I've found that if you dress modestly and honestly, you only have up to go as far as your personality. Plus, the first funny thing you do in front of strangers is always doubly funny, because they say "Oh my god, you seemed so reserved and straight laced". That's when you blindside them with the abortion jokes.

stand up to your feces and the Government

It doesn't surprise me that toilet paper is white. You know why? I'll tell you....It's just another way for the Government to keep your flourishing minds in check. What better way to suck the confidence out of it's headstrong, forward-thinking, romantic, tough-loving, spiritually wealthy citizens than to force them to see their shit on a virginally white piece of toilet paper?

When I buy clothes, I think about what color I'm buying and what a mess is going to look like on it. When people buy cars they think about the same thing. Is white going to cause me to go to the car wash every other day? Yes. So we choose dark so that stains and dirt and the like will not show up every time we make a mistake. Why then, when toilet paper is made very specifically to encounter the worst of all messes daily, is it white? The color of God, Marriage, the "light" people calmly drift towards when life is expiring, christmas snow, Snow White, printing paper, cocaine, and last but not least, traditional American socks! I know you're thinking, "Anthony, you silly goose, it's made out cotton. Cotton's white." Well, dear friend, you are correct. Cotton is white, but we seem to be able to dye it when ever we need to: shirts, slacks, trousers, long shorts....etc.

See? They could make T.P. brown or maroon or black or something. On white, we as humans are guilty of looking every time. You'd be weird if you didn't. And sometimes you have to look every time, because your B.H. seems to be defying the laws of lessening feces. Meaning, the mess gets bigger every time you wipe. It is on those HUMAN occasions that we get a bit depressed with every snapshot of accumulating poo (and the image sticks with us, whether we admit it or not), and leave the bathroom at work, the bookstore, the library, the magazine hut, etc. feeling like we should just take some time alone and let our bodies settle down before we go try to have a conversation, get a pop, or touch a lover. We are paranoid that everyone is going to know that we just got done having a panic attack while staring at all the inexplicable poop happening inside our beautiful bodies.

There should be no recovery period people! Get back to work! The world needs you! Don't let the cotton tycoons/governmental minions have their way with your conscience. Bring your own T.P. or color each slice brown bef0re you use it. Walk out of the bathroom with a sense of relief, rather relentless depression.

Also, is it weird to read a newspaper that someone has left in the stall? That was my real question. Sorry it took me so long to get out.

COMCAST, you know what I'm gonna do to you?

First I'm gonna buy some steaks and throw them on the grill and invite you over for a romantic style cookout on my 35th floor candle lit deck. I'm gonna stare you down sensually while I poke them and flip them in the grill. I will blow slow kisses right at your face and hair, I'm gonna talk to you softly and rub your WHOLE body, not just the fun parts like some amateur. Shoulder rub, forehead kissing, back stroking, then on to what surely is going to be the sweetest love making you have ever been exposed to. Then I stand you up and stare in your eyes. "Brace yourself Comcast, cause I'm gonna rock your knees."

Then I push you off the balcony and eat my steak.

night night

Answer to Brett's Question (see below)

Imagine Mike Tyson in prison for 4 years. He had the mentality that he was going to be in there for 20 years. Then because of his uncanny abilities to knock people out with one punch, he was released. He was in his sexual prime at that time. 17-20? yrs old, entering the real world again with a ton of hype. His world flipped comepletely as he was praised for his rage instead of punished. Now let's imagine you are the girl he wants to date. He hasn't touched, smelled, licked or bit anything feminine for FOUR years. YOU are his girlfriend.

-Anthony

Compliments to our server at The Duke of Perth

Instead of bitching about service this day, i am going to take the time to compliment Mark and I's server at the Duke of Perth. What a nice guy. He was there to do his job, be nice and get us in and out of there if we wanted it to be a short dinner. We did.

He was the type of guy that I would want me sister to run into. There was no artificial happiness or chatting for a tip, no trying to talk us into anything, and no problems when we asked for anything. Just a pleasant experience. He deserved a good tip and he got one. For being real. Mark and i discussed how hard it is, these days, to find a "real" male server.

SO we decided to wait for him after the dinner and try to get him to go home with us to have a one on one on one party. Just grab some wine, turn on the Comcast music channel for 80's hits or Partytime hits, and dance it out. Nothing sexual just some good old fashioned dancing and staring and pushing and cocaine, and then throw a pistol into the mix with the door of the bathroom locked as Mark is contemplating the worth of humanity in the mirror.

Unfortunately the server declined, even though we waited for six hours outside of the restaurant. He's still a good guy.

Gambling

Sometimes I feel like attempting comedy for a living is a little like going to Vegas.  You give yourself an allotted amount of money/time to get something big or at least a consistent paying gig, then if it runs out before the deadline, you should quit and go home.  Cause bad, bad things can happen if you don't watch your step.  

I'm not saying that I have any sort of will power or lack of an ego that would let me quit, it's just a thought that comes through the old brain.

One thing I will never understand

Why.! In.! The.! shitwhole world do cashiers at restaurants HAVE to know what you want right now? When clearly I am standing there looking up at the menu and dramatically squinting my eyes just to communicate "I'm nowhere NEAR ready to order!"!!!!!

I was at a restaurant (doesn't matter which one, cause they all do it) that I had never been to before, there were two people in front of me that had already ordered, one person behind me. I could feel the cashier wanting to get my order, but I had just gotten there.

"What can I get you, sir?", half a second goes by, "SIR, can I get you something?" I squint as hard as I can to further communicate that I am not ready. Two seconds go by, I reply "...ummm,can I have a second please?" She addresses the person behind me, "Sir! He ain't ready you can step up and order." The guy behind me says nothing. She sighs. She looks at her fingernails, then turns around to talk to anyone she can find to show that she does not care about us any longer.

I say, I'll have the Mr. Sub please." She looks out the window at whatever and pretends to be so enthralled that she spaced out on my order, so i leaned over the counter to bust her on the fact that she wasn't looking at anything. She wasn't. Then when she turns her head back, our heads were really close, and she didn't flinch. We've been doin' each other ever since.

Anthony

Growing up...

I just watched the first twenty minutes of the movie "Kiss kiss Bang Bang". I bought this movie over Christmas. I had seen it Twice. TWICE within the past year and a half. I liked it a lot. Enough to buy it obviously. I thought that Robert Downey Jr. did a great job along with Val Kilmer and the plot was clever enough to more than keep me interested.

Tonight, Downey made me want to throw him into a burning house. Every other line was a cheesy, predictable anecdote, and he talks so fast that he manages to get three times the amount of them in there without my hate properly catching up and prompting me to kick the TV in.

My question: Why the change of heart? How could my perspective have changed this dramatically in a year? The movie sucked. Am I maturing (with a hard "T")? Or am I becoming more judgmental?

I am maturing.

What's your favorite form of torture?

I was just looking up torture on the Wik, and Jesus, thank god for modern civilities.

Regardless, choose one and just sit back and imagine. But not too hard, uuugh.

Start with this

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sawing

Anthony

Dammit!

Every time I go around the corner to the bathroom there is this hot day lady that works in the other office that always, seems to be going to the restroom when I am. Therefore we pass each other at least once a day.

This is all well and good, except for the fact that I'm really into this book I'm reading right now and i take it in with me every time I have to "go" go. And today she saw me carrying my book in twice. What luck! I'm screwed because now she knows that I take poops.

Anthony

Terrible Restaurant Crews

Chicago Ale House is officially the worst of the worst restaurant crews that I have ever encountered. Now, I am an ex-bartender. I did it for four years, and I have accrued a definite amount of sympathy for when things go wrong. It just happens and I am never one to act like it is enough to ruin my day when there is a mishap, or three (Because I also realize that mistakes come in bundles once the server is shaken).

BUT, this was ridiculous: Mark and I eat a meal and watch a few games. The place has four patrons and our chicken sandwiches took twenty-five minutes to make. The best part of this shortcoming was that the kitchen is entirely visible from where we were sitting. The cooks just joked around and laughed and jammed out to Modest Mouse knowing we were staring at them.

After the meal We wanted to have an Irish Coffee, so the overly concerned (but lazy) Bartendress makes a couple of Irish coffees for us. She hands them over, I take one sip and the coffee is just cold. COLD.

Me- Um, I'm sorry to be like this, but this coffee is cold.

Barkeep- Oh no, actually I'll bet it's just the Bailey's. Because it's a dairy product, we have to keep it in the fridge. I'm sure it's what made the coffee cold.

Me- Right, but it is really cold. Like not even warm, as if the coffee has been sitting out all night.

Barkeep- Ya know, sometimes I like my Irish coffee to be cold, kinda like a Iced coffee. Like from Starbucks, it can be tasty. But I'll top you off here to warm it up.

(She pours a more into it, and it is still cold)

Me- It's still cold.

Barkeep- There has got to be something wrong here, because I know that coffee was just brewed. It doesn't make sense.

Me- Right, but I just wouldn't mind a hot Irish Coffee right now.

Barkeep- Well I can check the pot, but I'm sure it's just the Bailey's, because we JUST brewed that.

(she goes to the beverage prep area, which is ten feet away and we can hear everything going on. She comes back after talking to the other server about the coffee being cold and the other girl swears the coffee was freshly brewed)

Barkeep- You know what? That pot just was actually cold. I'm sorry, I can brew another pot if you really want it to be warmer.

Me- Yes. I would LOVE for my coffee to be warmer.

BArkeep- Okay, but.....(trails off as she begrudgingly goes to brew another pot)

(It is now when the owner comes in to the picture. He is a nice and friendly Asian guy. He goes over to the other server who explains what is going on. The Bartendress comes back out with another pot of coffee and pours more into our cups. The owner yells over our shoulders at her.)

Owner- (at her) MAKE THEM A NEW DRINK! DOn't just pour more coffee in their cups, (to us) Hi, my name is TOmmy, and I'd like to thank you guys for coming in today. You like the basketball huh? We have many TV's for watch Basketball madness....

Barkeep- (at Tommy) There is no point in making new drinks, because the coffee machine has to be broken. TOmmy, let me handle this. (TO us) Sorry, but the coffee machine is broken guys, do you want to drink these like they are or can I get you something else?

(TOmmy, goes to the coffee machine and yells for her to come back there and talk to him. Mark and I look at each other in frustration and hold tight for the end of a couple of games)

(They argue in the back, we can hear everything, and it turns out that the coffee machine was never turned on. She returns after getting reamed for the stupid move)

Barkeep- Turns out the coffee machine is broken.

(Tommy comes up behind us)

TOmmy- She's new and she is afraid to admit she never turned it on. Thanks for coming, these are good basketball games huh?

Me- (to Barkeep) Right, could you just throw the coffees into the microwave and heat them up for a minute or so?

Barkeep- I don't know if that'll work.

Tommy- No! I fixed the problem with the coffee! There will be a new pot ready in a few minutes we will make you new cups.

MArk- (First words) Jesus Christ, I don't care about the details.

I lose it. I went from zero to tears in one split second and don't stop laughing for ten minutes. It may not seem that funny, but it was perfectly delivered and timed. Simply perfect. She comes back to thank us for letting her know that the coffee was cold so she didn't serve cold coffee all day, then continues to explain what happened with the machine in such a way that is "not her fault". Mark leaves me with this gem.

MArk- We have to make the decision now to never come back here again, or to be instant regulars and drink our lives to waste in this nonsense.

I'll give them another chance. I have a feeling that barkeep isn't going to last long.

-Anthony

My Point...

The observation that compelled me to write the post below was just simply that Clinton does not speak for herself at all in those campaign commercials, and it is all negative. The one positive commercial up there was of some dead actress that was supposedly her friend and endorses her.

Obama just simply puts his own speeches up, in full or in short. I get chills when the man speaks. He is from a different sect and I am actually scared for the man, in that I could see him ruffling the feathers of some important people out of CONVICTION rather than POLITIKIN'. He is the future. I love him. It is indeed time for change. And if he is all talk, I am willing, based off his words, to take a chance on him. It can't get much worse than where we're headed (save a large-scale attack).

-Anthony

Fooled!

Damn you Flu! You've been irritating me for two weeks now and I can't seem to get rid of you! Yesterday morning I woke at 430am up feeling like ill-placed acupuncture needles were all over my body. I took a shower, and the water hurt my body. I called in guilt-free and slept till noon. Got up feeling like shit. I downloaded a ton of great music after browsing eMusic for three hours (check out Deerhoof and thank me later.) So anywho, my mind strength and abilities to reason were growing thin and I subconsciously began to drift toward the window, but convinced my self to sleep more and chug some water.

My roommie Mark comes home and immediately goes out and gets me some Theraflu. What a sweet heart! Well, like an idiot, I forgot to take it because we got too deep into an exchange of bits and the night flew by. I go to rehearsal for my Improv team COUNTER-PRODUCTIVE LOVER and just watch.

I get a ride home, watch two fascinating documentaries about autism, go to bed, sleep for a few hours then wake up again at 230am. I try till 4am to sleep. I give up go to the computer to write a little, take the Theraflu and immediately break into a sweat like the fever is breaking! I'm pumped, I feel like a million bucks. However, I took pain killers with the Theraflu, and I think that was the curing factor. They wore off, and I am at work right now trying not to walk through the windows...

Screw you Flu.

-Anthony (sorry for whining)

I had the scariest dream.

I was in my house childhood home and I was doing a load of laundry, when this overwhelming feeling of anger and sadness took over my body.  It was the worst feeling that I have ever had in my entire life.  I said to myself out loud, "Oh God those chumps down the street murdered your sister!"

So I ran to the cabinet under the sink and got my gun, which I guess is where I would keep it if I had ever owned one.  

I ran down to the "Chumps" house (who I remembered vaguely as being some trouble makers I knew once upon a time).  I busted through the door, and saw that they were having a medium sized party.  There was a keg and about ten people standing around that failed to notice the sweaty ball of desperate rage that just rifled through their house.  I broke through the first door to the left and began shooting a guy in his bed screaming my sister's name.  I moved on quickly, to the kitchen where most of the party was hanging out and fired a few shots into the crowd, and scared myself, because of the look of terror on everyone's face.  It totally shocked me so I continued on through the house to seek out some answers and for some reason I knew that I could get them in the back room of the house.

I went in the room and it was my best friend laying on a bed asleep with a baby on his shoulder.  I freaked out because I had not known that he had had a baby.  Quietly I creeped up to him and put a gun to his head, and spoke in a normal tone "Why the fuck did you guys kill my sister?"

By this time, the other people at the party had caught up to me in the room and they had plenty of guns themselves.  They were screaming at me, my best friend was staring at me, I was screaming at him, it was complete chaos so I did what most people do in the movies when they have a gun and everyone is screaming.  I fired two rounds in the air and everyone shut up.  I realized that I only had one bullet left, so in front of a bunch of paranoid, pissed off gun bearing partiers, i said "Fuck, I only have one bullet left...Stupid!  Stupid to say that now!"

The other gunners realized their advantage and started to close in on me and I screamed "Why the fuck did you guys kill my sister?"  My best friend replied "We didn't kill your sister.  It was a joke.  Calm down.  You're in a lot of trouble."

This was too much for me to handle.  I thought for a moment.  I was still confused and desperate, so I sprinted for the window and dove out of it unscathed even though the gunners were shooting for me.  I flew gracefully into a dive roll and got up quickly.  There in front of me was a bike that my sister had gotten for me earlier in my life.  So I hopped on and rode as fast as I could.  I rode until I was sure that I had made enough turns and gone so fast that they would not be able to find me tonight.  

So, naturally I came up on a ghetto basketball pick-up game.  I got off my bike, picked up the losers and played the game of my life.  As we were finishing up and I was drying the sweat off my body, the gunners from the party caught up with me.  They got really close to me and they all had these disgusting smiles on their faces.  I asked why they were smiling and they told me that it was the best joke in the world and that I was going away for a long time.  I flipped out and tried to hit everyone in my face.

This short blond haired young guy put a gun to my face and instead of resorting to fear, I became overwhelmed with the guilty memory of having shot up their party.  I asked politely, the guy in front of me, "Did I kill anyone?"  

He answered with a giggle, "Yeah man, you killed my twin brother and you're going away for a long time."  His giggle increased.  The rest of the guys followed suit and laughed at me.  I siezed this moment and smacked the gun out of his hand and ran to my bike.  

I got on and started to ride away, the guys remembered and chased after yelling.

It was then that I had the epiphany and spoke out loud to myself.  "If you run now, you'll never stop runnin'."

The guys were close enough to hear me say it and buckled at the knees with laughter.  I was humiliated and defeated.  It took my breath away and then I woke up.

What does that mean guys?

-Anthony

The Oscars

I, for the first time ever, watched the Oscars all the way through, from start to finish.

John Stewart: You are everything i have ever wanted to be. Possibly the best hosting job I have ever seen. I have only one gripe and it is big. (read on)

Academy House Band: You are inappropriate and ruin the best moments in some peoples' lives. You cut everyone off. I realize that there are certain time restraints, but there are also some very unnecessary montages, as well as nominating 3 ridiculously high maintenance musical numbers from Enchanted. They each lasted like 10-12 minutes, complete with thirty-dancer cast and ironically cut way into the thank you speech of Marketa Irglova who, along with her musical partner Glan hansard, beat out the 3 Enchanted numbers nominated for best original song.

My Biggest Gripe: Why is it SO important that everyone mention the fact that screenplay writer Diablo Cody, used to be an "exotic dancer". Yes it is a little interesting tid bit of trivia, but it's not SOOO crazy that someone, somewhere, needed to pay bills and stripped for a while. What if she only did it for three months and the entire world has labeled her as "The EX-STRIPPER"? She wrote the most charming script of the year and everyone finds it so ironic that an ex-dancer had the perspective and intelligence to write a script. Give her that! She did it. Don't try to "understand" it, like it's some giant paradox. And John Stewart was the one who brought it up. He delivers perfect joke after perfect joke then mentions Her stripper past. Granted, it was a funny enough joke to be there, but so was everything else he said, I'm just sure that she is sick to death of that title. Anyway, Diablo Cody, I love you and your work. Keep writing and I'll keep watching. Maybe some day we'll all get over your "dark past" (B.S.).

-Anthony

Okay. I'm ready.

Well, in relation to my last post (a month ago), let me tell you that things turned out as well as they possibly could have. I know it's old news, but God! I am sooo glad that the Patriots lost to:

1) New York: The worst possible scenario for any Boston fan. Those pitiful Bostonians could practically hear the victory parade storming and screaming down the streets of New York. And they will be hearing about this for eternity. Just one more notch in the belt of those "poor, cursed losers". Well guess what....You fucking cheated! AND you got caught! And now we're finding out that you've been cheating since 2000!!!!! Your first fucking Superbowl! You're nothing, Pats! You're forgotten in the long line of cheaters and thieves that have risen in the past decade. And you're not even at the top of THAT list! So. Boston. Why don't you all just get divorces and try to integrate yourselves into some other regular, modest form of civilization. Try to lay off the pride and beefed up accent you all seem to turn up whenever you're out of town. Cause it was all for nothing.

2) Another Manning: I read an article online written by a clunky Boston sympathizer that was completely bland other than one comment he made something like : "...The bad news is that we have to go against the one of the best pass rushing lines in the league. The good news is that we are playing against a Manning." WHICH, by the way is comnplete bullshit, considering the fact that Peyton pulled off the best comeback in playoff history against them last year, then went on to win the Superbowl. That's two straight, heartbreaking losses to Mannings. Not only that, We'll be seeing you next year too, guys and we ain't getting weaker with our young defense and balanced offense. Dungy's back, so we'll see.

I saw a man today with a Patriot's hat, Jacket and jersey walking next to the bus I was on. I had my Colts hat on, I knocked on the window, he looked up, and I fingered the numbers "18-1". He flipped me off. Hehe, just like those unimaginative followers (Bostonians), to come up with "the bird". Life's a long song, right Jethro?

Anthony

The End of an Era...

Well, it happened again. The Colts defense, once again folded up and let the opposing team run all over their foreheads. I don't know what to think anymore. It's like the Colts have been SO good for so long, (the best for three of those years), and one superbowl just isn't enough. We had a window to create a dynasty, and we didn't capitalize. However, we have seen the trend for the franchise tendencies. SOFT. Yes our defense played well the whole year, Peyton was solid, we had a balanced attack on offense, but it never showed rebounding abilities. We've never put the knife in a twisted it to end a game that meant something. We're too professional and we lack the killer instincts it takes to dominate the league.

If we lose Dungy, it's over. For me, and everyone else.

Anthony :(

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year from all/both of us on the Brett and Anthony are ...... Workin' for the Weekend Team.

In the spirit of the Newest Year around, let's just go ahead and take 2008 to think back on 2007 as the best year yet. Life will resume in 2009, but in the meantime, I want you to just put your thinking caps on and imagine all of the joy and triumph we shared last year.

Sure our foreign policy continued to fold under the weight of supreme ignorance, and yes the housing market is feeling the pinch more than any time in recent memory, and of course I know that if you listen really hard you can actually hear the icecaps melting, and right I get it that Anthony's house burned to a pile of indiscernible ashes, but think about all of the good stuff that happened, too.

Are you thinking about it? Keep thinking about. That's it.

Awesome guys! Way to go. Now hold that for about 12 months.

See you in 2009.

-Brett

domestication

I was sitting here thinking of things to write and I wanted to make it positive, it being the new year and all. I asked myself "hey Anthony, what are you really excited about right now?" The answer:

1. My shower mit.

2. Crystal Light lemon Iced Tea.


Now. The shower mit.



It is exactly what it sounds like, and maybe i am late on this phenom, but i can't think of anything more practical than having a soapy mit on my hand when I am in the shower trying to get as clean as I can. George got it for me as a second option to a loofah and i feel a little guilty that it was a second option. It shoulda been first. Loofah? Yeah, right, more like Goofah.

2. Secondively* (Daflos's term), Crystal Light. Just had a little taste of that again, and boy did it shoot nostalgic jolts throughout my mind. Thoughts came back to me from tombs deep in the basement of my cerebelum inches awazy from being forgotten forever. Conversations/arguements started back up where I rejuvinated my point of veiw and even admitted I could have been more understanding. Then, when I was done pounding two full pints, I felt better, not bloated.

-Anthony

Happy New Year Everyone!