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
Monday, October 27, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
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
"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
Friday, October 24, 2008
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!
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. $23,000 better get her looking like Mrs. America. But maybe she has an uphill battle to climb. Maybe if you remove all the make-up you get THIS.
Reagan's out there somewhere ya know, hanging out with Elvis, and Jimi, and Tupac. In some dive bar in Montana, just drinking and laughing with those guys. And Kurt Cobain is there playing darts. And Chris Farley is like the totally funny/big-brotherly bartender guy. But Reagan is definitely the ringleader. Keeping the guys focused for there eventual reemergence as the League of Six: Ultimate Fighting Force! At least that's how it is in Anthony and I's dreams.
Or maybe this. is little more plausible. Zombie Reagan '08!
Friday, October 17, 2008
SOMETHING OF THE DAY!
Now that we've covered fun party hats, today's topic is religulous.
FREAKY RELIGIOUS PROPOGANDA OF THE DAY!
REAL REAL REAL SOON!
This is the condensed version, but you get the point.
A few things to note:
- All "scientific facts" pulled straight from the Focus on the Family handbook.
- The title of this one was "That Crazy Guy" in reference to this swinging cat.
- Make sure to check out such other fun reading as Stairway to Hell, How to be a Successful Example of What Not to Do, and Please Come Into My ?$@#*, Lord Jesus.
Have a great weekend now. And don't forget Jesus will protect you from AIDS so go have a good time!
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
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
Thursday, October 16, 2008
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
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
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
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
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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
"...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
Friday, June 20, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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!
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!
Monday, June 9, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, May 5, 2008
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
night night
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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
-Anthony
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, April 21, 2008
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.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
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
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
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