After working a 16 hour day yesterday (and not writing for this website) I finally let my head hit the pillow for a good night’s sleep. As usual I woke up feeling less-rested than I felt when going to bed. I hate my dreams.
My dreams consistently include 3 major themes: frustration, fear and celebrities. My dreams will often last for what seems like hours and usually end with me waking up feeling terrified, stressed or both. I might spend the night shooting raisins at Corey Haim or maybe I’m driving Miley Cyrus and a vacuum cleaner around the city while she sings “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” Both of these nightmares are real. I also recently had a dream that included a magazine on a table called “Manhole Weekly.”
Last night was a typical dream where I try to accomplish a relatively simple task that ends up becoming complicated and stressful. The short version of last night’s dream is… I went to buy a 12 pack of beer for an engagement party of a girl I worked with 12 years ago. When I arrived I thought it would be funny to call in to the talk radio show they were listening to and make some joke specific to them. I finally got through to the station and was put on hold. In the meantime they had switched the station. I walked into the room they were hanging out in, spilling and trying to gather beer cans the entire time, and tried to find the correct radio station for my ruined joke. In my dream, this was like a 15 minute process. Finally I said fuck it and sat on the couch with Philip Seymour Hoffman who was dressed as a priest. I excitedly told him my band had been chosen to do the soundtrack for a new blockbuster movie called “The Reconstructionist.” Upon hearing this news he became intense and pulled my head onto his lap. He stared at me and said “is that right?” and then his eyes became totally white for about 2 seconds. This might sound dumb but in the dream this was terrifying. I sat up and said “I guess I will just sit up now and shit my pants.” Then I woke up from fear. It took me a good 15 minutes to get over how scared I was.
When did this become OK? When did girls become as lazy as guys? Sweats worn in public are bad enough on a man but on a woman it’s just sad. The kind of sad like when you are talking to someone and they have a booger swinging back and forth in their nose but you can’t say anything, all you can do is stare at it, pity them and then throw up when they walk away.
When a girl wears a sweatsuit in public it says, “I’ve given up on everything that makes me female. I’m pretending to care but obviously don’t.” These girls want the world to know they can no longer be bothered with complicated things like wearing clothes. I feel like the 5 most powerful names in the fashion industry got together and tried to come up with the most anti-fashion thing possible, just to see if they could sell it to the masses. The masses are asses and those asses say “Juicy.”
I’m going to attempt to write this while watching “Lost.” That, along with the fact that I really can’t think of anything funny or interesting to say about corporate pants, should result in the worst post I have ever pooed out of my poo hole.
Business casual blah blah blah. The subject is as boring as the clothing. I recently had to buy a bunch of “biz cas” clothes thanks to a freelance project and I’m still upset about it. OH MY GOD, this is so boring. I apologize, I really do. I honestly can’t think of a way to make this less horrible. This is where not being an actual writer poses a big problem for me. I couldn’t write my way out of a pair of pleated Dockers.
Hey Canada, I’m trying to have a little spring here, you wanna stop blowing your bullshit cold air in my face so I can enjoy the few months of warm weather we get in Chicago?
What’s the deal? Is this payback for George W. Bush? Limp Bizkit? Carrot Top? We are super fucking sorry about all that but enough is enough, Canada. I just want to pull my grill out of the garage and sit on my patio without a jacket. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my face while I clean my guns, watch NASCAR and not read the newspaper. Hey, I’m American!
Look Canada, you have to choose. Either you continue to send us all your comedians or you blow your stupid cold air all over us, but you do not get to do both. You’re supposed to be “America’s hat” not America’s cold air machine that makes cold air and blows cold air… shut up, you know what I mean! I’m too cold to think clearly!
Fuck! Are you fucking kidding me? Now I have to worry about this shit?
I was just in Mexico! Do I feel feverish? I can’t tell. Shit I think I have swine flu! Is uncontrollable snorting and an overwhelming desire to roll around in my own poop a symptom?
How did this crap start? Did swine flu start with some drunk sorority girl who was convinced by the good people at Girls Gone Wild to make out with a pig while on spring break in Mexico? I imagine it would have started slow like, “Hey Madison, just show us one nipple for a couple seconds and we will give you this highly valuable T-shirt! You want a T-shirt don’t you? You want to be cool, right?” Next thing you know, Madison has a face full of hog ass and the rest of the world is walking around in blue surgical masks.
God, what’s wrong with me? This post is a little over-the-top don’t you think? Shit, is that a symptom of swine flu, overly aggressive and offensive blogging? I need to go lie down.
See the look on this woman’s face? You will never look like this while getting a massage from me.
I don’t care if giving a 5 minute massage would lead to hot, sweaty sex with Lucy Liu on a private Caribbean island while Brooke Burke and Keeley Hazel watch and beg to join in, I’m not doing it so stop asking, Lucy!
I absolutely LOVE to RECEIVE a massage, especially from a professional (insert happy ending joke here), but I despise giving them. I would rather retake the SATs than massage your back. When I try to give a massage I begin with good intentions but literally after 10 seconds I am sick and tired of it. I’m not happy, you’re not happy, so why bother?
I should have written about this yesterday, since it was actually Talk Like Shakespeare Day, but I was too busy talking like an adult and doing adult things. As far as I know, this bullshit only took place in Chicago but you can waste your time trying to figure it out at talklikeshakespeare.org.
I kind of feel like a jerk for hating “fun” stuff like this but I can’t help it, I just do. Remember International Talk Like a Pirate Day? I hated that just as much, maybe more. So, on Talk Like a Pirate Day do you talk exclusively like a drunken Arrrrgh-style pirate or can you also talk like the pirates from Somalia? What do they say? I think it’s mostly stuff like “I’m going to kill you and dump your body in the ocean.” FUN!
The main reasons I hate things like Talk Like Shakespeare Day is because I used to have to do graphic design for crap like this and I was always amazed at the amount of wasted time that went into these misguided campaigns. Imagine spending weeks working late and taking conference calls with well-meaning poisonous bunch-back’d toads (their website suggests saying that instead of cursing) about Talk Like Shakespeare Day. No seriously, sit back and imagine it, I will wait…
FINALLY something that combines my love of pointless texting and people who talk during movies!
If you are a normal, fully functioning adult then you probably have not heard of “MuVChat.” Take a moment to thank Jesus for this because I am about to ruin your life. MuVChat allows you to read what’s on the minds of the dipshits sharing the theater with you. You see, at a MuVChat screening you can text any piece of bullshit rolling around in your empty skull and it will appear at the bottom of the screen. Imagine how insightful and creative these texts must be. I’m guessing it’s mostly comments like…
“Yo diz guy iz fast and furious yo”
“WTF dat guy doing yo”
“yo look out dat guy be behind yo azz!!!!”
“why dis button guy gotta age backwardz and shit yo :(”
“deez guyz is fagzz yo”
“beyonce’s azz be da shiz yo LMAO ROFL”
“Rosebud is the emblem of the security, hope and innocence of childhood, which a man can spend his life seeking to regain, yo”
I mean just look at the sample comments they put in their promo video. “Why I’m not a male model.” WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? Are they as dumb as their audience or do they know they are marketing to idiots and want to speak their language? Either way it makes me want to stand outside the MuVChat offices and fling poop at anyone leaving the building.
If MuVChat becomes popular I beg you to kill me! Thanks (sort of) to my wife for bringing this to my attention.
