Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
I've been helping a buddy of mine look at apartments to purchase, an ongoing ordeal since he is, wisely, being extremely selective given the awesomeness of his current abode. Finally, a week ago, for the first time since we first started looking a while ago, we saw one that he loved right away! We walked out, and he knew he wanted to make an offer. To protect the identity of my friend, not that there's anything incriminating in this post, we'll call the apartment complex "Ocean Gardens."
So, the other night, after this same friend went on a date, I called him to ask how it went. And he goes, "She was pretty and cool, but she was no Ocean Gardens. When I fall in love, I kinda wanna feel what I felt when I first set my eyes on unit 17 . . ."
And you know what? He's absolutely right. When you know . . . you know . . . said the single guy . . .
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Just kidding. I fucking love animals, especially white fluffy ones called Spirit Bears! Watch:
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Sorry I haven't updated the blog in a while, but I've been in bed, miserably sick, for the last week! Basically, it feels like someone raped my throat with some sort of cactus-like dildo. I had about a year-and-a-half healthy streak going there, too...which is a long time for frail Jews like me.
And can I just say, I picked the worst possible time to get sick: holiday season. If you think commercials are bad year-round, they're nothing compared to the shit they rush to usher out in time for Black Friday. There are the always-vomit-inducing Kay Jewellers commercials. This year has also brought with it an especially terrible Target ad campaign for some sort of special sale aimed at mentally disabled women (watch the commercials and you'll see what I mean).
And finally, there are the car commercials. It's irritating enough that there are people running around with enough extra money to buy their loved ones brand new fucking cars as holiday gifts...and I'm not one of them, but I feel like these ads gets worse every year. One has the whole family rigging some elaborate giant stocking as a curtain behind which they hide the new car with which they elaborately surprise Mom. Another one has the car actually parked in the living room of the house. And here, my least favorite of the year. Hyundai trying to "indify" their ad campaign with annoyingly staccato indie versions of the same crap-shit holiday songs I have to hear every goddamn year. Am I supposed to find this awkward girl who keeps nervously looking over her shoulder for the insane serial killer with the beard and weird instruments endearing? Because she's not...nor is the car:
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
And I was like, hmm, that's crazy, but I guess it also makes sense. Women have that there clock to worry about, and his wife would be almost 40 in five years, and they say the longer you wait to have kids, the greater the chance that the baby isn't healthy. He acknowledged this and then said, "If only there were a way to delay another five years..."
So I asked him, "If you could be given an extra five years, but you knew your kid would definitely be one of those sick, weak-immune-system, spontaneous-nose-bleed kids, nothing life threatening or majorly debilitating, as a result, would you do it?"
He thought about it for a minute, laughed, and then said, "No. . . . But what does it say about me that I'd consider it?!"
Friday, November 19, 2010
So, because she was a friend of a friend's friend, I asked my friend to ask his friend to ask her why she didn't want to go on a second date, and to stress that she be honest because I wasn't going to find out, even though that last part was a lie. This is for science, people. Anyway, it turns out she didn't like my sense of humor. When I heard that, my reaction was, "Oh. Well she's wrong. That's awesome." Because I'm fine with my sense of humor as is, and it's not like she thought I was ugly, so I felt like I wouldn't have done anything differently, you know.
And that got me thinking: wouldn't post-date report cards be kind of amazing?! If people weren't such hyper-sensitive pussies and could handle some criticism, they'd become so much more self-aware, and probably way less awful to be around. You know, a few standard questions like, "Did your date talk about exes too much, not at all, or just enough?", or "Did your date get too drunk or not drunk enough?", or "Did your date order dinner even though you only asked her out for fucking drinks?!" And then there'd be a comment section at the end for you to freestyle a little. Then, if you got three date report cards in a row that said, "Rambles on about her ugly cat way too much," you might say to yourself, "Gee, maybe it's weird that I'm so focused on my disgusting cat all the time. What does that say about me?" Although, most likely you'd think, "Men are such insensitive, animal-hating jerks! Everyone's wrong but me." And, of course, the ones doing the grading would probably take out their own issues on the ones being graded. Because people are retarded and self-centered and massively insecure. But if this post-date-report-card system could save even one person . . . just one person . . .
Thursday, November 18, 2010
So I try to pass them at a relatively slow rate so they can feel like they haven't dropped off that much. So they can think, "Hey! That guy's half my age and he's barely passing me!", you know. Then, as soon as I turn the corner, and they can't see me anymore...it's off to the races!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
"So now I know that there's another life in my body that can't outlive me but can kill me, it's the perfect moment to gratefully acknowledge that I'm a product of a cosmic design? Who thinks up these arguments? Actually it's an insulting question: 'I hear you're dying. Well wouldn't it be a good time to get rid of your beliefs?' Try it on them and see how they would like it. 'Christian, right? Cancer of the tits?' 'Well, yes, since you ask.' 'Well, can I suggest you now drop all that tripe?'"
He cracks me up. Here's the full article: http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/14/christopher-hitchens-cancer-interview
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The rules are just different for guys and girls. A girl can say whatever she wants (on a first date--over time, you still have to possess desirable personality traits), and if she's hot, the guy won't really care; he'll still hook up with her. But a girl . . . she can get turned off by anything. Anything! One false move, one wrong word, and she can be taken out of the mood like-*SNAP*-that! Talk at your own peril, fellas.
Now if I could only heed my own advice . . .
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Look, if you're my friend, you get the couch. I don't care if you're a girl, if you're just a friend, you get treated like all my other friends. If I'm trying to fuck you, you get the bed . . . with me in it. That's a very simple, and I think logical, rubric.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Now, that being said, I fucking love the guitar solo at around the four-minute mark of Dinosaur Jr.'s "Get Me." I'm a hypocrite. So what? It's my blog; I do what I want. Listen to it. So good...
I couldn't find the original album version with the solo I like, but this is a good acoustic version: