Sitting B!tch

Hate: she is asian, so it’s in my wheelhouse

me: there’s a lot in your wheelhouse, I advise penicillin

Hate: i’m allergic to penicillin, believe it or not
shitty irony, i know
i’m a walking STD and can’t take penicillin

me: just let the VDs battle amongst themselves, they’ll kill each other

Hate: only the strongest survive, it’s a darwinian evolution of STD’s

me: then you’ll be the host for the cure of the fiercest form of genital herpes

Hate: they will no longer be specific to the genitals, they will be called full body genitals

me: haha full body genitals? Lol

Hate: one gigantic open sore ewwwwwwww

me: dude, did you mean full body herpes lol

Hate: oh wow, you totally got me

Hate: clearly i had genitals on my mind

me: haha you’re a clown

Hate: i have serious issues when it comes to genitals, they are always on my brain
usually male genitals
wait, those are on my face
what?

me: bazzinnnggggggg

Joe:  there are bagpipe blowers making noise outside
 me:  do you even work in a real office?
it’s like a playground there
 Joe:  haha
some work here
you should
 me:  get me a job
 Joe:  send me an updated resume
 me:  just tell them to hire me
 Joe:  ok let me get on that right now
 me:  be like “hey my friend would be a good fit here, give him monies, kthxbye”
let me poop first
 Joe:  you said you like your job, tho
 me:  yeah i am not leaving
 Joe:  sloot
 me:  WF > Google
 Joe:  yes, I went from WF to Google
 me:  no no
think math signs
 Joe:  I know
it’s False
think truth or false
 me:  WF != Google
(does not equal)
 Joe:  Google/WF
Google ( Y ) on WF
 me:  we are such fucking nerds, i’m going to go poop and think about how lame i am
 Joe:  haha

Sort of.

Thumb ‘em UP!

http://www.urbandictionary.com/author.php?author=Middle+Child

This made my day on so many levels.

For the first time since I can remember, I neglected to apply any anti-perspirant after my shower last night. I’m not sure how or why it happened, but I set off for the day without my personal BO blocker. This did not bode well for the fellow morning workouters…not a real word, but let’s pretend that it isn’t…what?

Do you ever smell something foul and immediately start looking around to identify its source? Well, about 20 minutes into my routine (today was my legs day, for those that care…I was doing squats, if you want a visual) I catch a whiff of some stank. BO stank. Given that it’s a gym, you tend to let some of those aromas go, but this one wasn’t going away. I gave the once-around but only saw a girl, who wasn’t within typical BO whiff range. After a moment of confusion, it dawned on me…it must be the neck roll that I was using on the barbell. I smelled it, but all I got was the rubber/foam scent. Thoroughly confused at this point, I try to ignore it and proceed with the workout. As I reached up to grasp the bar, BAM!!! Similar to the burning after a soda/beer burp slips through your nose, such was the sensation from this particular BO. Could it be, was I the stankass? Yes, yes it could be. And I was.

BO is not a laughing matter when it’s present. It’s harmful to you and everyone that’s within the blast radius. The blast radius is determined by an elaborate formula derived of several factors–how dirty you are in general, if you have sleeves, dark/light colored shirt, what you eat/ate, etc. I was wearing a black shirt, a BO Blast Factor magnification of 4x. So please, let’s all Just say no to BO.

These BO’s are OK…

This public service announcement was brought to you by The Armadillow – taking cuddling to multiple levels (I just made this slogan up).

I heard a 30 min sermon on how the fear of shame dictates our lives, and I must admit that I am ashamed to admit that it was true. Let’s be honest, shame rules the household, the school house, the playground, the workplace, the workout, the rock out, the make out…perception trumps reality. The walk of shame typically follows a night of indiscretion, especially if the Boggle 7 you bagged the night before turns out to be a morning-after 3.

Public shaming has long been considered one of the most severe forms of punishment (think The Scarlet Letter, Salute Your Shorts, the orange vests that the highway cleanup crews wear) because it attacks our inherent desire/need to belong. People lie to avoid the shame that their actions will generate, either to them or to others. Then, when the truth comes out, they’re ashamed for lying. Lose-lose at its finest.

So, naturally, I don’t have a solution. If I did, I’d be elsewhere, ruling a small nation. What I do know is that it comes down to the perceived present value of perception. You read that right, the PPVP. We do what we feel will leave us in the most positive light in others’ eyes at the current time, and ignore what the repercussions could be in the future. It’s human error and an utter failure, but our fight-or-flight instincts seemingly want to to delay the inevitable fight until we’ve already dug ourselves too deep of a hole. Do yourself a favor and cut your losses by admitting that you fucked up today, not tomorrow or two

If you want specifics, read any of the celebrity gutter blogs or follow the various sports scandals out there (steroids, point shaving, tampering, bribery, whore indulgences). But let’s focus on the silver lining: Life itself isn’t just one big crying shame…it’s only when we decide to act like idiots.

It’s another Van Damme Friday!

Starbucks cups gone wax poetic on my ass.

Someone let their tiny dog take a dump in the hotel elevator but didn’t bother to pick it up. I must have missed the memo because it was the first time in 3 days that I made it to the 8th floor without it stopping to pick up others, proving to be one of the most traumatizing 20 seconds of my life. How could something so tiny unleash such a putrid morsel? It’s like a hot girl who rips an eye-watering fart, it just goes against nature.

{Play the theme music from the vintage Mad TV skit for full effect…}

I want to watch the movie, Up. Since I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews since it released this past summer, it’s inevitable that I’ll come away with some level of disappointment given the expectations it now has to live up to. The same thing has happened to Tropic Thunder, I Love You Man, and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants…I mean, what? Given the targeted demographic for The Hangover, I can only imagine what kind of let-down the patrons felt if they had to watched it anytime after its opening weekend. It just happens. Regardless of how great the story/movie/stunts/jokes may really be, your endorsements will prevent it from living up to expectations.

Think about just how terrible this power would be if it applied to everyday life; you recommend anything to a friend for any reason–a tailor, tutor, caterer, hair cutter (?), stripper, beer, restaurant, deoderant–but they always managed to disappoint. Life would be humorously terrible. Social interactions would be limited to empty salutations since I’m pretty sure that 90% of our conversation topics revolve around a guess-what-I-did-no-way-that-sounds-sick-just-like-when-I-did-this model. Even the most cliche of small-talk topics, the weather, would be susceptible to these limitations. We’d be screwed! Not really, but I felt like being melodramatic.

I’m currently writing this from a plane, 35k or so feet up in the air, as I cruise from SF to NYC thanks to Google and Virgin America. Let me tell you, you haven’t lived until you’ve checked email, sent some IMs, wrote a blog, streamed Pandora while leaving it on mute, placed an online bet, AND updated your Facebook status message purely out of novelty/principle. It’s a feeling of freedom that can only be explained by experiencing it, so I highly recommend taking a flight on Virgin Airlines before January 15. Food will taste better and air will smell cleaner, the sun will be brighter, you will lose weight and befriend beautiful people, and your life will never be the same. Now, if there were more than 6 readers of this blog, I’d laugh because some readers may not know how sarcastic I am being…in which case I would have successfully ruined the internet-on-a-plane experience for them. Good thing my audience is limited to whomever I send the link to.

There’s some gnarly turbulence right now, I wish typing could show it as well as handwriting would.

Bringing it back to the old school ‘cuz I’m an old fool who’s so cool….

I’ve been on a Beatles kick lately. In actuality, it’s a Beatles kick-lite, since I’m resorting to Pandora’s Beatles radio station-so I only get ~65% Beatles songs (group + Lennon/Paul/George solo efforts). Either way, it’s some pretty good shit, both lyrically and musically. So what else have I been missing, you ask? Great question. By random happenstance, I found myself watching They Drive by Night (1940) the other night, an old-school reel co-starring (among other actors that my parents would probably recognize), Humphrey Bogart. And, just like with the Beatles, I was thoroughly entertained by the time the credits rolled.

Imagine that. Music three decades old, movies almost 70 years old…I like aged Scotch and will pay the extra $3 for a case of beer that actually tastes good. I opt for steel bicycle frames over the latest carbon fiber craze. Rusty free weights trump their cable/rubberized descendants, worn-in Levis win over my G-Stars. Reruns of Saved by the Bell/Fresh Prince/Full House/Charles in Charge never fail to entertain. I don’t own an iPod nor do I know how to use iTunes. I consider cursive a lost art, much like chivalry. I scoff at Miley (a 16 year old, mind you) as she sings about partying in Hollywood and wearing stilettos, pole-dancing and rubbing herself to the pleasure of ‘tweens and their moms across the world. Oh, and fuck the wildcat, a solid drop-back passer can always win you a football game.

I admire progressive values and open-mindedness when it comes to love, life, religion, and ice cream flavors. So when nostalgia starts kicking in, I’ve decided that finding the optimal balance is the key to happiness and a fulfilling life. How do you find that balance? I have no clue.

In other words, I’ve failed to resolve anything…Imagine that.

I’ve got nearly 25 years on this little guy, but after a few hours of Texas football-watching and trick or treating, we were one in the same:

*Love me some CWalken*