Saturday, November 20, 2010

Shopping Carts and Common Sense

To the three people that actually read my blog (one of whom is my mom):

I'm sorry that it's been so long since I've written anything. Now that I'm a college student, I really just don't have the time or energy to be as angry as I used to be. However, there is a very important topic I would like to discuss today.

Every Saturday morning, my girlfriend, my son and I go grocery shopping. And every Saturday morning, I am astounded by the number of people that do not understand how to push a shopping cart.

It's really not that complicated. Just follow the same rules you would use while driving. Wait a second...I just realized that the people who can't push a cart are probably the same people who can't drive. Here are four simple rules to follow while shopping with a cart.

1) Stay to the right! This rule should also apply to hallways, stairways, and just about everything else.

2) Do not leave your cart unattended. You may find items in your cart that you didn't intend to purchase. I encourage everyone reading this to place random, preferably embarrassing items into any unattended shopping cart you find (i.e. tampons, condoms, or Brad Paisley CDs).

3) Do not stop in the middle of the aisle with your cart perpendicular to the shelves. All you're doing is proving to the rest of the world that you're a self-absorbed idiot.

4) Every grocery store I have ever been to has many convenient places to put your cart when you're finished using it. It kind of makes me sad that people are unable or unwilling to walk an extra 30 feet to put their cart away. It's no wonder this country is so fat.

It really is that simple. If you follow these rules, chances are I won't hate you.

If anyone is wondering what to get me for Christmas, I would really like a ticket book. I can not imagine anything as awesome as issuing a fake citation to the next idiot I see.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

People Watching

I have been trying to be less judgmental lately, but people do not make it easy for me. I am by no means a "fashion expert," but I feel as though many people may share my opinion on this topic.

I have recently started a new job. My position requires me to sit in a truck at an outdoor market and sell ice cream. During the slower times, I have nothing to do but sit back and watch people go by. I have come to the conclusion that 75% of people do not have mirrors in their homes, otherwise they wouldn't be in public looking the way they do.

Here are a few guidelines I have come up with. Please feel free to share them with everyone you know. Maybe, just maybe, we can stop some of the ridiculousness.

1. If you have more hair on your back and shoulders than on your head, you are not allowed to wear a tank-top.

2. If the lowest point on your shorts is the crotch, they are too short (especially if you're a male). Normally these kinds of shorts are called "underwear."

3. You are not allowed to wear the aforementioned "underwear" over a pair of tights, unless you have some sort of superpower (or you're Batman).

4. Old men are still allowed to hike their shorts waaaay up and tuck their shirt in, just because it will always make me laugh.

5. (From a previous post) If you have something written across your ass, don't get mad at me for trying to read it!

6. Dress your age. Nobody wants to see a sixty year old woman in short-shorts and a low cut tank-top. But I guess this one is somewhat hypocritical coming from a guy who's almost thirty and wears nothing but comic book t-shirts.

I'm sure that people could say numerous things about how ridiculous I look. I know that people could say things about how I used to look (like the year I dressed as a baby for Halloween, complete with a mohawk and beard). I know I'm being judgmental...I just don't care.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Great Apartment Hunt

It seems as though I'm always on the hunt for something, doesn't it?

Sorry it's been so long since I've written anything of any substance, but it's been a very busy month for me. I'm finally going to school (college, that is), and I've been preoccupied with jumping through hoops and filling out paperwork. I also got a (very) part-time job driving a (very) large truck. Yes, I've been busy.

Now, it's time for the final thing on my list of things to do: Find a place to live.

And I thought job hunting was hard. Finding a decent apartment at a decent price is impossible. Most property management companies require you to have three times the income as the price of rent and utilites. That means that between my job and my student loans, I can afford a $300/month apartment. Unfortunately, those do not exist. Ok...let's try option two.

A room for rent. Sounds easy enough. Unless, of course, you have a two year old son that's going to be staying with you a few nights a week. I live in a college town. Everyone that's seeking a roommate wants to party hard. I'm sorry, but I never really liked Andrew W.K. I'm sure there has to be an older couple somewhere in this town with a room for rent, but unfortunately they haven't figured out how to use Craigslist yet.

One last thought: If you have a room for rent, and have a preference on the sex of your roommate (which is totally legal, as long as it's shared living space), you should put that in the ad. You could at least tell me when I come over to view the room, or when I'm filling out the application. I'm baffled by why you decided to waste both your time and mine. I guess it's for the better, because I'd rather live in a cardboard box than live with an idiot.

Friday, July 2, 2010

When Are You Going To Learn?

I know that there are a lot of tech-heads out there that will agree with me on this one.

The new Apple iPhone 4 has major issues. This is me being shocked.

A word of advice to everyone out there. Never, never, never buy first generation electronics. Ever. I guess that's more than one word, but you know what I mean. Every company sets a release date for their product, and for some reason they think that meeting that deadline is the most important thing. Screw the bugs, we've gotta get this thing on the shelves.

Most of the bugs in these products aren't even discovered until they're available to the general public, like things not being used properly and exploding (anybody remember plasma screen TVs?).

There is absolutely no reason not to wait at least six months to purchase new electronics, except if you need to be the coolest person ever. Let's look at it this way. You paid $400 for your awesome, state-of-the-art iPhone. I paid $10 for my Samsung "dumbphone" that came with my plan. Mine works, yours doesn't.

Who's the idiot?

Monday, June 28, 2010

Frontal Phlebotomy

Today, I had an appointment to get some blood drawn. When I arrived at the hospital, there was already a very long line waiting to be checked in. After standing in line for fifteen minutes, I got checked in and took my seat in the waiting room. I watched as all of the people ahead of me in line had their names called, anticipating that my name would be next. Seven people later, it was my turn. That's right. Hospitals really will make you wait longer if you don't have insurance.

Finally, it was my turn. At first, I thought I was rather fortunate, because my phlebotomist was a young and fairly attractive woman. I followed her back to the creepy little room and had a seat in the torture chair. She sat at her desk and asked me several questions, inputing my answers into a computer. After thumbing through my paperwork one final time, she slapped on a pair of gloves and said she was ready.

"No you're not," I replied. She never washed her hands! After years of working in the food service industry, I know that a pair of latex gloves is NOT a subsititute for washing your hands. I thought maybe the standards in the medical field would be a little more stringent, but maybe I'm wrong.

I wish you could have seen the look she shot me when I asked her to take off her gloves, wash her hands, and put on a new pair of gloves. It was somewhere between pure hatred and who-the-hell-is-this-guy-telling-me-how-to-do-my-job. "I don't need to wash my hands," she told me. "I just put on clean gloves."

"Did the gloves magically jump out of the box and land on your hands? If not, whatever was on your hands is now on the gloves. It doesn't take a scientist to figure that one out." I wanted to tell her this, but I didn't think it was a good idea to upset her any further. After all, she was about to suck out my life-force with a needle.

Well, she washed her hands, took my blood, and left me a little emptier inside (literally). I don't know where she went to school, but I'd really like to find out. Maybe she failed Handwashing 101 at DeVry.

Friday, June 25, 2010

I have just invented a new genre of music...

It's called nerdgrass. Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like.

It started off simply enough. I was playing my acoustic guitar, and I "accidentally" wrote a song about Chewbacca. When I realized that I was playing in G, I had an idea. "You know what goes great in G?" I asked myself. That's right, a banjo.

So, nerdgrass was born.

Ideas were coming to me left and right. A song about Captain Jean-Luc Picard with a sweet mandolin solo! A 3/4 song about Drizzt and Guenhwyvar (I had to get a book to see how to spell that). Of course, there would be the obligatory minor song (Em, of course), probably about Boba Fett or Sauron.

I thought I was brilliant, until I realized that there probably aren't a lot of hillbilly nerds out there. There's probably not a lot of Deliverance kids with access to iTunes.

I think I need to record this stuff, if for no other reason than personal amusement.

Author's Note:
According to my spellcheck, Chewbacca is misspelled, but Drizzt is not. Strange.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Ah...High School

With my ten year reunion coming up, I've been reminiscing a lot about my high school days. I honestly don't have very many good memories of school, mostly because I was a nerd. I never got stuffed in a garbage can or got my head shoved in a toilet, but the emotional trauma was far worse.

Kids are mean, especially in high school. When I was in school, not a day went by when I didn't get called a "fag" or "homo." I was unaware that there is a direct correlation between a love of Star Wars and a love of men.

I never understood why I was loathed by the "jocks." I knew that I couldn't talk to them about the things that I loved, so I tried to center any conversations on things that they enjoyed. "Did you see the game last night?" I would ask. "You're a nerd, you don't like sports" would be the response. Let me explain what is wrong with this statement.

The main aspect of any sport is physics, whether you realize it or not. What nerd doesn't love a good physics problem? Also, just because I'm not an athletic person doesn't mean I don't enjoy watching sports. Side note: The biggest D&D nerd and the biggest football jock I know happen to be the same person. Chew on that one for awhile!

Needless to say, I will not be attending my high school reunion. I am still in contact with most of my high school friends, and I don't feel the need for everyone else to tell me how much better they are than me. I'm happy with where I am in life, and I don't need others to convince me otherwise.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Hunt Continues...

I still don't have a job, and it's not for lack of trying. When I first started looking for work, I applied only for things I have experience in, thinking that that was important. Apparently, ten years of food service experience is too much to get a job at a restaurant. I'm overqualified for the only thing I have experience in.

So, now I've moved on to applying for jobs in which I have no experience. Guess what? I don't have enough experience for those. I'm still unsure why I need six months of experience to stock grocery store shelves or to mow lawns. Seriously, I've been mowing lawns since I was 12, but since I didn't get paid for it, it doesn't count as experience.

I recently applied for a job at my son's daycare. I thought I would get this job in a heartbeat, for several reasons. First, I've been a stay-at-home dad for nine months. Anyone who spends time with my son tells me that he's very well-behaved and a perfect little angel. That doesn't happen by accident, you know.

Second, I'm a musician, which I believe would make a welcome addition to any childcare team. Do you know any children who don't like to sing and dance? I don't.

Third, the owner of the daycare would pay me to do my job, and I would immediately pay her a large portion of my wages for child care services. In theory, she would be paying me about two dollars per hour.

Alas, I didn't get the job. Instead, it went to a seventeen year old girl with enough eyeliner to cover the members of Green Day and Good Charlotte combined. Now my son has a horrible case of diaper rash, being that he sat in a wet diaper for at least four hours. His "caregiver" was too busy reading a magazine to be bothered.

I have since reworded my resume. It is now only two sentences:

Please give me a job! I am willing to work my ass off and utterly humiliate myself for a steady paycheck.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Aging As Gracefully As Possible

I've recently been trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm no longer young. I am by no means an old man, but I've been doing and thinking a lot of things that say otherwise.

"I remember when..." is how I begin most of my sentences. I constantly find myself complaining about how much things cost.

I remember when cigarettes were between one and two dollars per pack. In the great state of Montana, taxes alone for a single pack of cigarettes is $2.71 ($1.70 state tax, $1.01 federal). On a related note, you should thank the next person you see smoking. Your taxes would be much, much higher if people didn't smoke.

The last time I was at the store, I seriously considered buying a nose-hair trimmer. Nothing makes you feel like an old man quite like the need for accessories to keep unwanted body hair under control.

I have also recently done some things that are very stereotypically "old-manish." I actually yelled at the neighborhood hooligans to "stay off my lawn." I don't know what's worse, the fact that I yelled at them or that I refer to them as hooligans.

My only question is, if I feel like this now, how am I going to feel in 40 years? Hopefully by then, I'll be completely senile, and that sort of behavior will be expected of me. For now, though, I guess I'll just have to deal with the fact that young people are stupid and things cost more than they used to.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Happy Father's Day!

I know that there are some people out there that think Father's Day is a bogus holiday. In many ways, I agree with you. There are many "fathers" out there that don't deserve a special day. Just because you had sex and now have to mail a check every month doesn't make you a father.

I think that Father's Day should be renamed in honor of the people that it's actually for. We should really start calling it "I Lived With A Pregnant Woman For Nine Months And Lived To Tell About It Day." I can honestly say that so far, that was the hardest part about being a dad. Granted, my son is only two and the worst is yet to come. I still think living with a pregnant woman will still make the top five hardest things when it's all said and done.

I am in no way trying to say that sharing a house with a pregnant woman is harder than being pregnant. It's not, and I know that. However, I am a male, and can never be pregnant. There is no way that I can ever understand the pain and suffering that my amazing girlfriend went through. I know there are other guys like me who, at some point during the pregnancy, looked at your partner and said, "If I could have the baby, I would." We are all a bunch of liars. None of us would ever voluntarily push something the size of a cantaloupe out of any orifice.

I would like to use this Father's Day to say thank you to all the moms in the world. None of us would be dads if it weren't for you. Most of all, thank you Tara. I love you and I wouldn't be a father without least not nearly as good of one.

Friday, June 18, 2010

The Partial Solution To Drunk Driving

I usually try not to read the newspaper, because it only makes me angry. This morning I was confronted by another case of personal responsibility gone to hell.

A guy leaves a bar, gets in his car, and smashes into a Highway Patrol vehicle. The drunk driver dies on impact, the Highway Patrolman dies a few days later. Who is responsible for this tragedy? That's right. The bartender. I understand that bartenders are supposed to stop serving people when they get "too drunk," but let's look at this from a business standpoint.

You own a bar. People come into your establishment for one reason: to get drunk. You cannot run a successful business by refusing to serve your customers. I used to have a pretty bad drinking problem, so let me tell you something from my own personal experience. I have never, not even once, been turned down when ordering a drink. There where times where it took me three or four tries to get my order across to the bartender, but I always got my drink. Always.

I have an idea. Could this tragedy possibly be the fault of the guy who was driving drunk? Yes, it could very well be. But it's hard to make an example out of someone who's dead. Why not go after the guy who sold him the car? If he didn't have a vehicle, it never would have happened. Or better yet, let's go after the car manufacturers, because if they didn't make cars, people wouldn't drive drunk.

It's time to stop this ridiculousness. I think all bars should be equipped with a Breathalyzer. When a patron enters the bar, he is required to hand over his car keys when he orders his first drink. He can get them back when he leaves, if he blows under the limit. This is such a simple solution to the problem, and I refuse to believe that I'm the only one that's had the idea. Granted, this won't stop all drunk driving, but it'll make a huge dent in the problem.

Let's stop all the bitching and moaning and actually do something about it, shall we?

Author's Note:
I am in no way trying to make light of a horrible tragedy. The thoughts and prayers of my family and I go out to the family of Trooper Michael Haynes.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Seriously, She's Weird Looking

I have some advice for anyone who thinks that Megan Fox is attractive. Quit drinking.

I don't understand where this image of the ideal woman came from. Why does a woman have to be orange and undernourished to be considered attractive? Since I like to concentrate my energy on one person in particular, I chose Megan Fox. She is obviously not famous for her incredible acting ability. She hasn't even been in a single good movie. Some of you might say "What about Transformers?" Like I said, not a single good movie. Transformers was awful. I wanted to see a movie about big freaking robots from outer space, not a bunch of whiny people with problems and Megan Fox in a skirt. Sorry I'm off topic, but one last thing. Bumblebee is NOT a Camaro! Never has been, never will be. Screw you Michael Bay. You are now tied for first place with Joel Shumacher on my list of "People Who Bastardized My Childhood."

Sorry, back to the skinny girls. I have some advice for you single men out there. Stay away from the skinny girls. Thin women are thin because they're hungry. Hungry women are cranky. Mathematically, we can assume that skinny girls are cranky. Anybody want to argue?

One last thing:

Megan Fox has 7,221,084 fans on Facebook. I have 43. She's weird looking and has no talent. I'm weird looking and have some talent. It's up to you, loyal readers. I need more fans than Megan Fox. Can we do it? No, probably not. But tell your friends anyway.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Smoking...And Other Self-Destructive Behaviors

Yes, I am a smoker, and I have been for years. Yes, it's a horrible addiction, and I've tried to quit many, many times. Maybe next time, right? Since there is already so much ill will toward smokers, I try to be as courteous as possible about it. I don't throw my butts out my window while I'm driving (that's what the ashtry is for!). When I'm in a public place, I try to stay away from entrances to buildings, or I just go stand by my truck in the parking lot.

I recently had a bizarre experience outside of a McDonald's that I'd like to share with you. I had just pulled into the parking lot, and was standing outside my truck finishing my cigarette. A very large fellow walks by me, and feels the need to inform me that smoking causes cancer. I have a very small mechanical device implanted in my brain. It's function is to keep my smart-ass thoughts in and let the intellegent stuff come out. It failed. "Really? I had no idea? Why didn't anyone tell me?" was my only response. He continued on his way, pretending to cough.

Seriously, does he think he's a doctor because he can repeat something that's common knowledge? Also, I don't think I'm going to take health advice from the 400 pound guy waddling into McDonald's.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Superman Vs. Batman: The Ultimate Nerd Debate

Author's note: I am extremely biased on this topic, but I will do my best to present both sides fairly and equally. Actually, I probably won't. Maybe I should have titled this blog "Batman rules and Superman sucks." This should in no way be considered fair and balanced journalism.

If you hadn't noticed, I've been a little angrier than usual in my last couple of posts. I've decided that it's time to lighten the mood and get back to the things that are truly important, like comic books.

Let's start with Superman. Kal-El (a.k.a Clark Kent, Superman) illegally immigrated to the United States in 1933. He was found in a field by Jonathan and Martha Kent, who forged the paperwork to make him appear to be their own legal son. I guess leading a double life just comes naturally to some people.

The rest of the story you already know. Superman, the big blue boy scout, always blindly following orders, using his giant array of superhuman abilities. Seriously, what's the appeal of a man who can do everything? He can fly, has super strength, super speed, laser vision, x-ray vision, and microscopic vision just to name a few. If his eyes are so awesome, why does Clark Kent need glasses? And don't tell me that it's for disguising himself. When I take my glasses off, I still look like me.

Batman (a.k.a. Bruce Wayne) has no real superpowers to speak of. He's just a man, albeit a very wealthy and intelligent one. People often mistakenly assume that his motivation is vengeance, but that is simply false. He's not trying to bring his parents back, and his not trying to punish the criminal involved in his parents' deaths. He is trying to keep what happened to him from happening to anyone else. He is the epitome of self-sacrifice and determination. Basically, he's just awesome.

People are always trying to get me to believe that Superman stands for the American dream, with his moral values and integrity. I disagree. Batman is ridiculously rich, without actually having to work for his wealth. He has the most technologically advanced car, plane, and boat, which are used to show others how important he is. That's the American dream that I know.

Just about anyone will tell you that, between brains and brawn, brains are the more important quality. Anyone who doesn't is probably very strong and dumb as a rock (like Superman).

"Who would win in a fight between Superman and Batman?" If you don't already know the answer to this question, read Frank Miller's 'The Dark Knight Returns.' Not only is it one of the greatest written works in history, it is hands down the best 'Hero vs. Hero' fight in all of comics. Read it, and you'll find out who the real king of the superheroes is.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Scapegoatism and You

I'm getting really tired of people blaming the rest of the world for their problems. Isn't it about time for some personal responsibility?

This is partially a continuation of yesterday's blog, and partially something entirely different. I was thinking about the great privacy debate again when I realized something. When you sign up for Facebook (or any other social networking site), they give you a list of terms and conditions. How many of you actually read them? I'm guessing that most of you just hit the little 'I Accept' check box and continued on your merry way. Well, those terms and conditions contain some very important information regarding privacy. Facebook cannot be blamed because you were too lazy to read it.

On a semi-related note, there is currently a huge effort to enact legislation in my state to stop 'predatory lending.' This is usually referring to places that give loans on car titles. When you pawn your car title and miss a payment, your interest rate skyrockets. But guess what? It's not the financial institution's fault that you didn't read the contract you signed! Every time I walk downtown, there are at least three people trying to collect my signature. When they stop me, I always ask them the same question. "Instead of capping the interest rates on loans, wouldn't it be easier if people stopped living beyond their means and taking out loans that they can't afford to pay back?" The response I usually get is "I'm just out here because they're paying me."

Lesson of the day: If you're going to sign a contract for any reason, it's probably a good idea to read and understand it first. You are not allowed to bitch about stuff that is entirely your fault. No one will ever take you seriously.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

A Short Thought On Internet Privacy

Dear Facebook users,

Quit whining! If you are as concerned about privacy as you say, I've got an idea. Stop posting personal information! It befuddles me that you expect photos that you post in a very public place to remain private. I've got an idea. Take your name, address, Social Security number, bank account information, mother's maiden name, and the name of your favorite childhood pet and write them all down. Then, make thousands of copies and hand them out to people. Now start bitching about how your identity got stolen. Seriously, if you don't want the world to see something, don't put it on Facebook.


Friday, June 11, 2010


This is another one of those topics that I could go on about forever, but I'll try to keep this short. Let's just deal with two of the major problems that most drivers seem to have: Speed limits and turn signals.

The word limit, as defined by the Free Online Dictionary, is the point, edge, or line beyond which something cannot or may not proceed. So, we would assume that "speed limit" means the fastest speed that you are allowed to travel in a car, right? This would be an incorrect assumption, for it turns out that the speed limit is merely a suggestion. Every day, I drive on a stretch of highway where the posted speed limit is 65. Every day, I get passed by multiple people (including law enforcement) going way faster than I am. At first, I thought, "Maybe my speedometer needs adjusting." Well, I had it checked, and it works just fine. It turns out everyone else (including law enforcement) is speeding. Last I checked, that's against the law.

Your attention please: There is an amazing device to help make the roads safer for everyone. It's called a turn signal. It has already been installed in your car, right next to the steering wheel. The reason for using your turn signal is simple. It lets all the other cars on the road know what you're planning on doing. Otherwise, I just assume that you're going straight. It must be incredibly hard to get where you're going without turning.

There are, however, people who love there turn signals so much that they leave them on all the time. This is far more dangerous than not using it at all. If I think you're turning, I'm going to go. However, if you hit me, the accident will be my fault. Please tell me how it's my fault that you're a jackass!

In closing, I'd like to say something to the wonderful gentleman in the gigantic white pick-em-up truck. Do you really think that riding my ass is going to make me go faster? That other lane is empty, if you'd like to pass me.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Your Kids Are Stupid

I have never understood the thought process that goes through some parents' heads. I always thought that it would make more sense when I became a parent, that maybe I'd understand, but no.

If you havent' met already, please allow me to introduce you "qubo," NBC's three hour block of Saturday morning children's programming. Here is quote from their bio on Twitter: "qubo is a TV and online service that promotes literacy, positive values and healthy living for children and families! " There are several things wrong with this statement.

Hmmm...what could possibly promote literacy more than three hours of television? I know! Turn off the damn TV and take your kids to the library! My son is two, and obviously can't read, but the library is one of his favorite places in the world. Why? Because books are awesome! As I've said before, imagination is not evil. Now, parents, I understand that you're all very busy and have your own stuff to do. I completely understand the temptation of using the "instant babysitter" called television. In fact, I've been guilty of it several times. But the truth is television doesn't want your kids to read, it wants them to watch more television (that's how they make money).

A child cannot learn positive values from television. Values (both positive and negative) are taught by parents, from day one, whether they realize that they're teaching them or not. Children have an amazing capacity for learning, especially when they're infants and toddlers. Most of what they learn comes from their parents, so lead by example. A talking, computer-generated starfish is not going to teach your child the difference between right and wrong. That's your job.

Watching television is not normally considered as part of a healthy lifestyle. Ask a doctor. If you want your child to be truly healthy, I have some advice. Turn off the damn TV! Take your kids for a walk, take them to the park, or just run around the house like crazy people. If you want your child to get some exercise while watching TV, you should get them one of those electric belts that works your abs while you sit. Your kid will have a wicked six-pack, but he'll still be an idiot.

People always tell me that I'm lucky to have such a well-behaved, smart little boy. I'd like to think that his mother and I have a lot more to do with that than luck.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

The Great Job Hunt

I've been looking for a job for over a month now, and I'm beginning to think that I may never find one. The worst part about looking for work is that everyone feels the need to share their expertise with me. Listen, just because you have a job doesn't make you an expert in looking for one. "You should go down to the Job Service!" Thanks, because I hadn't thought of that one on my own.

The problem that I seem to be having is that I'm unqualified for most of the jobs available. I can understand why you wouldn't want to hire someone with no experience. What I will never understand is how one can be over-qualified for a job. "I'm sorry, but we can't hire you because you have too much experience in this field. We're afraid that if we hire you, you might do a great job and be well worth what we're paying you." I've recently discovered that when a potential employer tells you that you're over-qualified, it's really just veiled discrimination. For example, I'm over-qualified for a jobs at Dairy Queen (I have a penis) and McDonald's (I'm too old, and high schoolers need the jobs to support their binge drinking and drug habits).

That brings me to my next point. Any employer hiring for a position will tell you that honesty is one of the top characteristics they're looking for. However, they're lying. I am the first person to admit that I've made mistakes in the past, and if you ask me about them, I'm more than happy to talk about them. The mistakes I've made (and the lessons I've learned from them) have made me the person I am today. Yes, I quit that job because I had developed a drinking problem and was no longer able to deal with stress. Yes, I also have a son, and absolutely nothing will make you get your life on track faster. Also, if you say that you want honesty from a potential employee, is it really so much to ask that you be honest with me too? "I'll call you in a couple of days and let you know what we've decided." Yeah, but only if I get the job. Otherwise I'll just be waiting by the phone like a nerd on prom night.

I know that there are those of you out there that are thinking, "Why don't you just go to school?" Well, that's my long-term plan. I'm just waiting to be accepted so I can start taking out loans and getting help with housing and things. I'm not applying at Dairy Queen and McDonald's so I can work there for the rest of my life. I just thought it would be nice not to pay for school entirely with loans.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Dear Kate,

You are not allowed to complain about how hard your life is. You chose this path that you're on, and I will never understand why people feel sorry for you. Granted, you didn't choose to have a litter of six children. You did, however, choose to take ridiculous amounts of fertility drugs. Massive amounts of fertility drugs equals massive amounts of children, and if your doctors didn't notify you of this, you should sue them. You also chose to parade your children on television like some sort of curiosity, so stop wishing that they could just have a normal life. You chose this life for yourself, and you and your children will just have to deal with it.



So, does anyone else remember when 'TLC' was an acronym for 'The Learning Channel?' There is no 'learning' to be found now, unless you want to learn about midgets and/or huge families. There is also a horrible show called 'Say Yes to the Dress,' all about finding the perfect wedding dress. This show's tagline really sums up what's wrong with our 'reality' television culture.
"Finding the man is easy. Finding the dress is hard!" Yes, because it's not important who you marry, just that you look amazing when you get married!

I have an almost infinite amount of loathing for reality TV, and normally try to stay away from it at all costs. However, I'm currently staying with my mother, and she has horrible taste in television (I love you, Mom!). The other evening, I caught bits and pieces of 'The Bachelorette." This is a show about one woman who goes on dates with and makes out with dozens of men. We have a word for that where I come from: Slut.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Episode III: It's Finally Over!

The names of the people and places of business in this blog have been changed to protect their identities.

I had made up my mind. I was not going to see this movie. I couldn't subject myself to this abomination that Star Wars had become. I was done. By the time this movie came out in 2005, I could legally drink. Who the hell needs Star Wars when you've got beer? If not for a guy named "Bert," I never would have seen this movie.

I had recently started working at a place called "Ice Cream Ninjas." My friend "BohDoy" had gotten me the job. "Bert" was our boss. He was (and still is) a huge nerd. "BohDoy" and I, huge nerds ourselves, were working late on May 18, 2005. "Bert" comes through the door just as we were finishing up and getting ready to leave. He just happens to have a whole bunch of extra tickets to the midnight showing. What were we supposed to do, say no? There was a quick meal of "Gas In A Tortilla," followed by mocking the "Raskin-Bobbins" girl, it was showtime.

I went into this movie knowing in my heart of hearts that it was going to be horrid, and guess what? I was right. However, this movie is by far the best of the prequels. There's not much to say generally about this film that I haven't already stated. Horrible writing, horrible directing, George Lucas is crazy, etc. Nevertheless, there are some specifics I'd like to discuss.

I'm not sure if the makeup guy, the lighting guy, or both are to blame, but Natalie Portman looked awful through this entire movie. She looked like a crack addict who couldn't put her makeup on properly. I understand that they were shooting for the "healthy pregnant glow" look, but they missed.

General Greivous: The part-man, part-machine bad guy. Come on, George. Would it seriously hurt you to have a new idea?

Again, the Christensen-Portman dynamic is in full form. But, the blame must not be placed solely on the actors. It has to be hard to act seriously when reading such intricately woven words as, "I don't even know who you are anymore," or "you're breaking my heart!" Mr. Lucas, you really should have gotten someone else to write and direct these movies. You had the right idea, you just did it the wrong way. Plus, you couldn't write romantic dialogue to save your life.

R.I.P. Mace Windu. Why is it always the black Jedi that gets electrocuted and thrown out of a window?

Why was the "birth" of Darth Vader exactly the same as the "birth" of Frankenstein? I'm obviously not talking about the scene where the Emperor tells Anakin, "You're name is Darth Vader now." Darth Vader is the guy in the suit, not Hayden Christensen looking all emo and angry. Just ask David Prowse.

So, the first Death Star took twenty years to build, but the second one took two weeks. That makes perfect sense. Here's my imaginary conversation with George where it tries to explain it to me.

GL: You see, they were building two at the same time.
Me: The Emperor needed two ultimate weapons of mass destuction?
GL: Well, he could see into the future, so he knew that the first one would be destroyed.
Me: Then why not just plug the damn 'insert proton torpedos here' hole and not waste resources on building another planet-sized space station? Furthermore, why didn't he foresee the second one blowing up and get the hell out of there?
GL: Maybe he did. I could still make Episodes VII, VIII, and IX.

That's it! That's just about everything I have to say about Star Wars. Actually, it's not even close to everything, but I've gone on for too long. Goodbye Star Wars. You died with my childhood. Now it's time to get back to the important things, like how to rid the world of drunk driving forever.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Episode II: Attack of the Yaaaaaaaaaaawwwwn

When I was in high school, I took four years of French. During this time, I was forced to watch several French films. Let me tell you, when people make fun of foreign films, they really mean French films. Most movies that have been made in France are ridiculously boring and make absolutely no sense whatsoever. What does this have to do with Star Wars, you ask? If you've seen Episode II, you don't need to ask that question. I have only fallen asleep in a movie theater once, and it was during this film. It might as well have been in a different language, like French, with no subtitles.

With this movie, I chose not to go on opening night. Instead, I waited about two weeks so I could hear what other nerds had to say about it. I remember someone telling me, "It's not nearly as bad as the first one." This is a true statement. "Getting mauled by a grizzly bear isn't nearly as bad as getting mauled by eight grizzly bears" is also true. Lesson to be learned: Just because something isn't bad doesn't necessarily mean that it's good.

Still, my inner dork yearned to see this movie, and eventually convinced me to go. I'm going to try to keep this blog shorter because there's really not much to say, nothing really happened in this movie. These are just a few things that I can try to make funny.

Ah, the 'drug dealer'. Why is he selling death sticks? I'm not exactly sure if death sticks are cigarettes, doobies, or syringes of space-heroin, but seriously, take a marketing class at Space Community College. Wouldn't you want to call them happy sticks? Or maybe wands of joy? You'd probably sell more.

Please allow me to set the record straight. Boba Fett is not a clone. There is only one Boba Fett, and his name isn't Jango (it's Jaster). He isn't just some clone that Jango Fett decided to raise as himself (this is not a typo, read it carefully). Let me clear up another common misconception. Jango Fett is not Austrailian, he's from New Zealand. If you call a New Zealander an Austrailian, you're going to get punched in the mouth.

I don't know what that little green thing jumping around all willy-nilly is, but it isn't Yoda. Yoda is no longer a puppet, and never will be again (sort of). Chronologically, Yoda is a puppet, then he isn't, then he is again. Weird. I have a another Yoda related question. In the prequels, Yoda is very wise and sage-like, as well as an accomplished ninja-monkey. In the originals, he's crazy and can barely walk. What happened? I have a theory. Shortly after arriving on Dagobah, Yoda suffered a massive blow to the head caused by some bogbat poop falling from the sky at terminal velocity. He was in a coma for six months, and with no one there to care for him, he lost all of his ninja-monkey skills and most of his ambulatory skills. It was also during this coma that he turned back into a puppet. As for his craziness, you'd go insane too if you spent twenty years alone on a planet made entirely of swamp.

Hayden Christensen and Natalie Portman have the same amount of romantic chemistry as Ray Romano and a potato. It actually causes me physical pain to watch it. On a related note, there is a very good reason why two actors have no sexual energy on screen. It's because they use all of it up off screen. I am in no way implying anything about Ray and his potato.

One last thing: Mr. Lucas? You seem to forcefully insist that almost everything be computer graphics? Why, then, did you choose not to use CGI when Anakin got his arm cut off? Hmmm, I wonder what that big bulge in his shirt is? It just appeared right after his arm got cut off! The same thing goes for that robot arm he has at his wedding. I had a toy that looked just like that when I was a kid.

If you have never seen this movie, try to keep it that way. But, I guess if you've never seen it, this post was ridiculously boring and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Kind of like a French film.

Join me again tomorrow for the amazing story of how I still didn't learn my lesson and went back for even more punishment three years later.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Episode I: The Menace

Ok, so I lied. This will not be a two part blog. It turns out that I have a lot more to say about the prequels than I had previously thought. For now, let's just call it a series of indeterminate length. Now, allow me set the stage for the most horrific event in motion picture history.

May 19, 1999. A day that will live in infamy. Nerds across the globe had been counting down the days, some going as far as to camp out in front of theaters months in advance. The Internet was literally on fire with spoilers and production photos. (Sorry, I love grossly misusing the word 'literally.' I'm fairly certain the Internet is noncombustible). From my own personal experience, being 17 and totally unpopular, I can tell you that I had never been more excited for anything in my entire life (and I hadn't had sex yet, so that's saying a lot). I'll never forget sitting in that theater when the movie started. I'm actually currently getting goosebumps thinking about the goosebumps I got back then. About 10 minutes into the film, I started having questions. If this is supposed to come before the other films, why are all the ships so much sleeker and shinier? Why is that green guy a stereotypical old Japanese man? Who the hell is Qui-Gon Jinn and how come I've never heard of him before?

The questions kept coming, but there were no answers. Why is Natalie Portman wearing kabuki makeup? Are we really not supposed to know that Senator Palpatine and Darth Sidious are the same person? Who the hell is Darth Maul, and did they make him look like Satan just to ensure that we'd know whose side he's on? I could feel myself losing my mind, but I couldn't leave. After all, this was a new Star Wars movie! I had waited almost my entire life for this! It just had to get better, I hoped. But then it happened...

"Meesa called Jar Jar Binks!" I actually felt something in the right side of my brain pop. The biggest question of all...WHAT THE F#@$!?!?

This was immediately obvious as a horribly inappropriate stereotype of 19th century African-American slaves. If you want to portray a character as down-trodden, do it with creative storytelling and intricate dialog, not with an offensive, stereotypical accent. Jar Jar Binks is the biggest waste of computer processing power ever, and considering the amount of websites dedicated to Justin Bieber, that's really saying something. "Ok, just try to block out Jar Jar," I told myself. I couldn't was Star Wars!

"Are you an angel?" Yep, time for the "romance" section of the movie. I realize that between two adults, a ten year age difference is not a big deal. But seriously, she's like 20, and he's like 10, and that's gross. However, I will say that Padme and Anakin's romantic chemistry is better in this movie than the two that follow. That's pretty gross, too.

Ok, I admit it! The podrace was cool.

And now, a short letter to the writer/director:

Dear Mr. Lucas,
So, you think you can just take the word mitochondria, change it a little, describe it as what it actually is, and expect us to believe that that's where the Force comes from?
Up yours,

Finally, after the giant battle between computer-generated robots and computer-generated fish people, and the painful to watch lightsaber fight, it was over. I left the theater, feeling like my soul had just been put through a meat grinder. A part of me died that day, and it's something that I can never get back. I have met a few people who, although they grew up with the original trilogy, love this movie. To you people, I have one thing to say. This is America, and you have the right to think and say whatever you like. Just keep in mind that you're wrong.

Trivia question: Do you know the name of the last movie George Lucas directed before Episode I? That's right. Episode IV. 22 years earlier. Therein lies the answer to all of my previous questions. 'Because George Lucas is an idiot who forgot how to write and direct.'

Join me again tomorrow for the amazing story of how I didn't learn my lesson and went back for more punishment three years later.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Not very long ago, in a galaxy not far, far away...

An idea is born. A film that would change the way that movies are made. Characters and themes based on archetypes that are thousands of years old. An opera of sorts (without the singing)...a space opera.

Star Wars. The classic tale of boy meets girl, boy makes out with girl on ice planet, boy finds out girl is his sister, boy is filled with strangely erotic remorse. As I have stated before, I am a nerd, and Star Wars is one of the biggest reasons why. From the opening scroll of Episode IV, I was hooked. Already so many questions, like what about Episodes I, II, and III? Boy, I wish I wouldn't have asked that question.

Episode IV was awesome, from start to finish. Great characters, great story, but beyond that, it was a brand new way to make movies. But the success of this first movie would begin evil thoughts in George Lucas' mind. Taking his cue from KISS, Lucas slapped the Star Wars brand name on everything. Lunchboxes, pajamas, sofa covers, oven mitts, and feminine hygiene products to name a few. Some of these may have not really existed, but Star Wars tampons? I would have bought those! So in rolled the money and the plans for a sequel.

Then came Episode V, The Empire Strikes Back, which is arguably one of the greatest movies in the history of history. New characters like Boba Fett, Lando Calrissian, and a little green muppet named Yoda. I would have given my girlfriend anything she wanted if I could have named my son Lando (that's right could have been Lando). This film ended with so many unresolved issues, you just knew there was going to be another one. Again, more merchandising, and more money.

Now we come to Episode VI, Return of the Jedi, the end of the saga. Or so we thought. I have some very close nerd friends who swear that Jedi is better than Empire, but they are wrong for one and only one reason. Ewoks. "I have an idea!" exclaims Mr. Lucas. "Let's put a bunch of midgets in teddy bear costumes, and they can help save the galaxy! But they can't have blasters. They need to have spears, bows, and rocks." Seriously, teddy bears with rocks defeated the Empire. Oh well, it was still an awesome trilogy. That's where it should have ended, but no!

Let's jump ahead a decade. George Lucas realized that he could make more money off of Star Wars without doing any actual work. A phenomenal series of books is released, written by Timothy Zahn, taking all our favorite characters and putting them in new situations and on new worlds. Finally, new Star Wars material! More books are published at a rapid pace, most of which are fantastic. This is where the wheels in Mr. Lucas' head start spinning.

Ugh, the Special Edition, where George went back and "fixed" his movies with 1997's state-of-the-art technology. All of these "improvements" were ridiculous. The confrontation between Han Solo and a poorly computer generated Jabba the Hutt in Episode IV is the best example of this. Watch it and laugh, it's horrible. The real question is, why go back and fix something that's near perfection? Or if you're going to, why not get rid of the damn teddy bears? However, there was one redeeming quality to the Special Edition. The younger fans (like myself) got a chance to see all three films in theaters.

That brings us to 1999, and the greatest travesty in the history of filmmaking. It also brings us to the end of part one of my two part blog. Stay tuned for "Episode II: The movies that make we want to repeatedly hit myself in the face with a hammer as I'm slowly lowered into a vat of lukewarm cat vomit." I might want to shorten the title a bit.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Denim underwear and fuzzy boots

Fashion has never made any sense to me. I will never understand why anyone would wear clothes that are obviously uncomfortable, just for the sake of being trendy. High heels, for example, have always baffled me. Do you really think you're fooling anyone into thinking you're taller?

At the risk of sounding like an old man, I must shake my fist in the air and say, "Kids these days!"

I was reminded of modern fashion today as I was walking downtown. I saw a young woman sauntering down the street wearing jean shorts that were so small, they can only be described as denim underwear. This I get (kind of). If you're a young woman with great legs, I say show them off. However, the thought process that goes through this woman's mind as she gets dressed boggles my mind. I can picture her standing in front of a mirror, contemplating what to wear:

"Hmmm...what goes with really tight, small jean shorts? I know! Knee-high fuzzy boots!"

For God's sake, pick a season and go with it. Boots are for winter, shorts are for summer. Why not cap off the outfit with a poncho and a rake? That way you'll be prepared for every season! Seriously, would that be any more ridiculous looking? Perhaps, but only a little.

Another fashion that I will never understand are these "half-shirts" that I've seen. I'm not talking about t-shirts that stop at your belly button (but I really don't get those either; who wants a cold stomach?). I'm talking about the shirts that are really only the front of a shirt with a little string in the back to hold it on. Do woman think that men will find them more attractive if they get to see their spinal column? As a man, I can tell you that I have never seen a girl in a half-shirt and thought, "Wow! Look at the back on her!" Wait, that's not completely true. In this case, though, "back" means something else entirely (think Sir Mix-A-Lot).

Speaking of back, I have one last thing to say to women everywhere. If you are wearing shorts with something written across your ass, you are not allowed to get angry at me for trying to read it. Literacy is important. Why would you buy shorts with the word JUICY written in huge, pink letters on the butt, if not to make sure people would notice it?

I will no longer allow people to accuse men of objectifying women. They're doing just fine objectifying themselves. What else would you expect from a generation of young women whose role models were Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

"Dungeons and Dragons" is pure evil

Sarcasm is a wonderful thing, isn't it?

Let me begin by saying that I have been a nerd for most of my life. I began playing D&D almost 15 years ago, and I still can't believe that it's considered evil in some circles. Seriously, uninformed people making massive generalizations is one thing I really can't stand. So for those of you that still think D&D is "The Devil's Game," let me inform you a little.

There are two main components of D&D, the first of which is imagination. I've never heard anyone say, "Imagination is evil." We all played pretend when we were kids, every single one of us. I think it's pretty safe to say that when we were four, no one told us, "You are not a pterodactyl. Now go get a job." Even as adults, most people read books, watch movies, or do any number of activities to get away from the real world for awhile. As far as I know, books are not evil. Movies are not evil (except maybe the kind that say XXX on the cover, but that's a topic for another time). So imagination is not evil, right?

The second component of D&D is math. Is math evil? According to our nation's test scores, yes. But most of you would agree with me in saying that math is not, in fact, evil. Every single action you make in D&D is based on an algebraic equation. For example:

"I want to attack the giant spider."

Ok, roll a twenty sided die. We'll call the result (x). We add this to your base attack bonus (y), and any other bonuses you receive (z). Now, the spider has an Armor Class, which is another string of variables. Natural armor (a), size modifier (b), Dexterity modifier (c), and possibly others. So, in the simplest terms:

If x+y+z>a+b+c, you hit the spider.

If x+y+z<a+b+c, you miss.

Simple, right? I can see by the looks on some of your faces that you don't like algebra, but just because you don't like something, that doesn't make it evil!

Now, there are some people who will tell you that there is more to D&D than math and imagination. This game encourages devil-worship, witchcraft, and homosexuality (I don't know how that last one fits in. I guess I've been playing with the wrong people). Dungeons and Dragons will make you murder your friends and commit suicide. This is all nonsense. D&D is a game. It's like committing suicide because you fall into debt playing Monopoly, or because you don't have any children at the end of a game of Life. Would you kill someone because they sunk your Battleship? No, you wouldn't (I hope). The real problem lies in behavioral disorders. Schizophrenics should not play D&D.

If you have trouble differentiating between fantasy and reality, then D&D is not for you. However, hopefully someone will have noticed these problems and gotten you some help before you're 12 or 13 (when most people start to play). Like I have previously stated, there is a lot of algebra involved in D&D, and I don't know many six year olds that know about variables.

I love math, and I love my imagination. If that makes me evil, then I'll see you in Hell!

Malnourished Muppet Syndrome

Dear Parents,

Is your teenage daughter constantly going to the tanning salon, bleaching her hair, and taking duck-faced MySpace pictures of herself in the mirror? If so, she may have a very serious condition known as Malnourished Muppet Syndrome, or MMS. The good news, however, is that there is help.

MMS is almost exclusively found in women between the ages of 15 and 30, however extreme cases can carry on into later years. The symptoms of MMS include, but are not limited to, oranging of the skin, paling of the hair, and a physique that would make a pencil say "Damn, that's skinny!"

It's important that we curb this disorder before it gets worse. As parents, the first thing you can do is teach your children the difference between orange and tan. If your daughter starts to show symptoms, point out to her how ridiculous she looks. Show her pictures of Janice the Muppet (found at and ask her if that is really her idea of beauty. As for the anorexic-like physique, there is a very simple solution: