Sunday, April 27, 2008

Signs You Have a Deteriorating Memory

1987.  
A spinster chick can't find her eyeglasses.  They're on her head.  She rubs her forehead in exasperation.  Finds them.  Giggles at her daftness.  Sits down on a comfy chair and digs into a fairly dry article in Harper's.

30,000 B.C.E.  

Dude and his woman go for a stroll.  He forgets his wooden club. They come upon a gang of young Latino Wooly Mammoths.  The couple crosses to the other side of the leafy path.  Too late.  Guy's beaten.  Girl's raped and eaten.

In conclusion, 1987 was the only time in human history when it was safe to have a deteriorating memory.

Friday, April 25, 2008

"What Are Your Top 3 Favorite Movies Of All-Time?"

Was an icebreaker I was asked during my middle school interview to get into Crossroads.
My mind went totally blank.  I froze.  My palms were sweaty.

After a lot of stammering "uhhs" and "umms,"  all I could muster was...

"Well, I think that Junior looks like it's gonna be pretty good."

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

IM Convo with My 11 Year Old Self

11YearOldSelf is now online.


Me:  Yo.  What's up, dude?


11YearOldSelf:  Chillin'.  Just waited in line all night for the new patent leather Jordans.


Me:  Cool.  Cool.  Little superficial if I might say.  Sort of remembered myself as more of a thinking man(boy) when I was you.  But whatever.  You're young.


11YearOldSelf:  Oh sorry, Mr. 24 Year Old Me.  I know you're busy with your intellectual pursuits on that softcore cable porn show you work on.  Between that and all the pussy you've been THINKING about NOT getting lately, you're an everyday philosopher.


Me:  What the fuck, dude?  Your sex life consists of masturbating in a bathroom your parents own.  And if I remember correctly, you're still firing blanks, bitch. Show a little respect.


11YearOldSelf:  Jeez.  Talk about a low blow.  Relax, man. 


Me:   I'm relaxed.


11YearOldSelf:  Okay.  So, dude I have a question.  It's kind of weird.  Promise you won't tell anyone.


Me:  Sure.


11YearOldSelf:  You know those little dots on our 11 year old balls?  Is that normal?


Me:  Dude, that's hair.  Jesus, you're a fucking infant.  I gotta get back to work. Anything else going on?


11YearOldSelf:  13 Year Old Us traded for some pretty sweet pics on Prodigy last night.  I can hook you up.


Me:  Dude, it's 2008.  Ever heard of RedTube?  Oh, the young...


11YearOldSelf:  You're loss.  I gotta go be uncomfortable and angsty.  Later, us.


Me:  Oh hey, before you go, not to be weird or anything, but I remember us getting a pretty decent allowance.  You think--


11YearOldSelf:  Dude, really?


Me:  Like fifty bucks, man.  My cell phone bill was a bitch this month.


11YearOldSelf:  I'm enabling us.  You realize that, right?


Me:  It's the last time,  I swear.  I'll pay us back.


11YearOldSelf:  That's what 70 Year Old Us said last week. 


Me:  That douche.  Fucking blew all our retirement money at the space track. 


11YearOldSelf:  I gotta leave you hanging this time.  Donkey Kong Country's about to hit SNES.


Me:  Dude, we played that game for like a week and got bored!


11YearOldSelf:  Yeah, but I don't know that yet.  I needs my cash, yo.  Sorry. 


Me:  Well, enjoy middle school.  Trust me, you got a lot to look forward to there.


11YearOldSelf is now offline.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Girl Writes A Play That Oversimplifies Black/Jewish Relations

Act 1.
Black Guy:  Fried Chicken.

Act 2.

Jew:  Money.

The End.

Reptile-Obsessed Asperger's Dude

On Hamlet:
"It's pretty much all about reptiles."

On his ex-girlfriend:

"Cooze looked like a fuckin' reptile."

On a Post-Castro Cuba:

"Reptile."

Confessions of a Douchebag Genie

Sometimes I pretend I'm a deaf retard.

Like this dude a couple weeks ago was all

I want to experience the Renaissance!

I want to meet Christ himself!

I want to be the strongest man in the world!

And I was all

Okay, so you want to travel back to 2003.

You want to meet Lark Voorhies.

And you wish you had M.S.

Guy was all

Wait!  That is not what--

And I'm all

I'm a deaf retard.  Go fuck yourself.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Match.com Video Personal

My Life as a Pick Up Artist

Age 12

Jesus, Heather Miller is so fine.  She’d only date a popular asshole though.  I’m too offbeat.  Can’t wait’ til high school.

Age 17

God, Emily Jones is banging.  I’m not going up to her though.  She’s retarded. Won’t get my sense of humor.  Can’t wait ‘til Princeton.

Age 20

Damn, these Princeton girls are beat.  I mean, Jamie Greene looks pretty good.  But she’s pretentious and into lacrosse douchebags.  Can’t wait ‘til the real world. 

Age 26 

That girl in the bar looks dece.  Though I can see the faintest hint of like impending crow’s feet when she smiles.  Shit, we’re getting old.  And she looks kinda vapid.  Wouldn’t appreciate my whole Princeton vibe.  Can’t wait ‘til we’re rich and settled.  Make the pussy come to us.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I Should Have Gotten More Ass in 2nd Grade

I was the second smartest, sixth tallest guy around.

And I lived in a nice house in a hip, desirable area near the beach.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Bad Logic Guy Beds a Girl

BLG:  Ooops.
Girl:  It's okay.

BLG:  Shit.  Slipped out again.

Girl politely smiles.

BLG:  There it goes again.

Girl:  Just try not to move back so--

BLG:  FUCK!

Girl:  ...far.

BLG:  Dang it!!!

BLG:  Shoot!

BLG:  Out again!

BLG:  I quit.

BLG and Girl lie down staring at the ceiling.  Girl is being supportive and cool.

BLG:  Not to be a dick, but you know...spade's a spade and all...and I gotta say, you're QUITE generously-sized down there.

Girl:  Oh my God, are you joking?

BLG:  'Fraid not.  And I'd know.  Been with a ton of girls with your problem.

Monday, April 14, 2008

English 7A: Extra Credit Assignment

NAME ___________
DATE_____________
CLASS____________

Some of the following sentences have linguistic errors.  Add/subtract punctuation, change word choice, and alter grammar where necessary.

1.  Tom's '89 Corolla broke down last night just outside the high school parking lot after a parent teacher conference, greatly angering him; and causing him to violently tear of little pieces of exposed foam that were spilling out of his non-leather seat.

2.  Toms' mother gets this passive aggressive tone in her voice whenever she (frequently) mentions to Tom someone she knows who  "teaches at the college level." 

3.  When you're drunk, delicately asking your live-in girlfriend to bring an additional male partner into your sex life is not a sign of homosexuality or even bisexuality but merely natural human curiosity. 

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Nathaniel, The Hipster Slave-Owner

                               Chapter XI
Wherein our hero holds congress with a neighboring proprietor, renders judgments upon the state of his plantation, and imparts a valuable moral lesson.

Mississippi.  1850.

Nathaniel waves over Josiah, who’s riding his horse near their property line.

Josiah:  That is one weathered whip you’re brandishing, my friend. 

Nathaniel:  Yeah.  It’s vintage.

Josiah:  As long as it gets the job done.

Nathaniel: I guess.  You know it’s funny, I used to be so against whipping my slaves.  I was all like, everyone else just whips the shit out of their slaves, how is it funny and original if I do too?  But now it’s like so trendy to whip your slave that it’s almost more ironic for me to partake -- just to reiterate the absurdity of how ubiquitous it’s become.

Josiah:  Okay…well, Mary-Anna wanted me to remind you about our picnic.  Over yonder near the waterfall.  In a fortnight.

Nathaniel:  Yeah.  We’re in.  I think you should tell people to bring their own reusable silverware and flatware though.  Not to be a green nazi, but you know, little shit like that makes a difference.

Josiah:  We were fixing to use wheatware. 

Nathaniel:  Even better.  I gotta bounce though.  Phone-banking for Obama.

Friday, April 11, 2008

My First Internship

Graham, a thirty-five year old career assistant I was shadowing, taps me on the shoulder.

Graham: So Risa apparently saw some porn on the computer in the intern bay.

Matt: What?! Are you serious? Dude, there is NO WAY that was me. I don't even use the intern bay now that I'm in your cubicle with you.

Graham: You're the only intern, bud.

Matt: This makes no sense. I mean, I looked up a few actress / models on IMDB last week. Could it have been that?

Graham: Not unless one of the actress / models was pregnant and riding a huge black cock.

Matt: Jesus. Dude, I have never looked up--

Graham: It's okay, I smoothed everything over. Told Risa it's your first time in a workplace. You'll be fine. Just don't do it again.

Matt: Wait. No, dude. This isn't cool. I never--

Graham: Honestly, I don't care at all. It's just, you know, Risa was upset.

11:33 PM IN THE OFFICE.

Working late. I'm helping Graham on an "important project."

I walk into the intern bay looking for my cell.

Graham's violently beating off to BLACK COCK CUM QUEENS. Turns around and sees me. Tries to cover up his erection.

Matt: Oh, jesus. I'm sorry. I was just looking for my--

Graham: No problem. Mi casa...su casa. Hey, so did you hear Risa apparently found a dirty butt plug in the janitor's closet? Fired Marcos on the spot.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Early Education

When I was little, I went to a small, progressive private elementary school run by a socially awkward recovering Mormon and his passive aggressive wife.

Here's the kind of conversation I imagined them having once they got home...

Ron: Matt was amazing with the long division today. And his new RollerBlades looked awesome. He's a little stubborn, but overall, I think he could be a future president.

Linda: He's responding really well to our humanistic schooling philosophy. I wonder if he and Nicole Haynes will ever French? I bet that if we plan a big field trip to a tide pool, they'll make out on the bus. Nine seems to be about the age that most special, important boys have life-altering sexual experiences.

Today, I realize their interactions probably went more like this...

Ron: Are you only gonna have one sip of your wine?

Linda (yawning): I'm getting sleepy.

Ron: Come on, it's my fucking birthday. If I can't get any tonight, might as well give up.

Linda (sotto): Maybe you should.

Ron: Fuck you, Linda.

The Duel

History has always been my favorite subject. In school or otherwise. It isn't just about dates and facts. It's about people and personalities.

The only way we can really appreciate history is to put ourselves in other people's shoes. Take my favorite historical event. The Hamilton / Burr Duel. Here's how I picture Burr's first day after shooting Hamilton...

AB enters nondescript office in West L.A.

Office Manager: Here's the new parking assignment list.
AB: I don't have a spot in the main lot?! I've worked here for three years.
OM: Lou drew up the list. You can talk to him if you're unhappy.
AB (Sotto): Whatever.

AB thinks about the fact that he may have just killed a man as a big group of colleagues his age goes to lunch without inviting him. He pretends like he's doing something important on his computer as they pass.

AB notices Hamilton's blood on his hand. It freaks him out. Then he decides he wants a BlackBerry or an iPhone, because it seems everyone has a smartphone these days and his Razr is a piece of shit. But he can't justify paying for one because he's poor so he calls his 60-something upper middle class parents who live in Santa Monica.

AB: Hey mom, it's me. I've been doing some research, and I think it would be cheaper for me to get an iPhone if we all joined like a wireless family plan. Won't cost you and dad much extra at all. And I'll cover it if it does.

Mom (a little distant): We can look into that, Matt.

Timing

really is everything. Like when you first start dating a new girl, they get mad if you don't make big plans and surprise them all the time. But as soon as you break up, they get mad if you do make big plans and surprise them all the time.

Or like when you go to an Asian massage parlor before it's busted, you can get a massage and then a little extra something to make you feel on top of the world. But after it's busted, it isn't any fun even though you're still going to the abandoned premises every night for three weeks in hopes that maybe Mei-Lin will return because she was the only person that really understood you after your ex left.

Tony

was my grandma's self-hating Mexican husband's obese, Vietnam-scarred son. Whenever Tony visited them in their retirement community, my grandma would bring out "the special chair" out of fear that his magnitude would destroy the normal furniture. I remember launching model rockets with Tony once. He got way into it. Like he ran around singing and getting really hyper like I was the first person he'd had human contact with in a really long time. Also, when I was six, I remember him showing me a scrapbook picture of a Viet Cong's decaying, severed foot. That made my parents uncomfortable. Which confused Tony. Now that I look back on it, I think Tony was probably a pretty unhappy guy.

Here's a sitcom idea I have.

video

Italian 125b

A scenario in which paying attention in Intro Italian class could change the course of your life:

Guy:  "I won't rape and kill you if you can say, with a relatively decent accent, 'Hello.  I'm from New York.  Where are you from?' in Italian."

Girl:  "Sono di New York.  Dove sei?"

Guy:  "Well done.  Solid accent, nice comprehension.  But the thing is, I'm going to rape and kill you anyway because I'm horny and on drugs."

Guy rapes and kills girl.

Sit-Down Pee

I just remembered this sub-par Newsweek article on Prodigy Internet’s marketing strategy I was reading in my bathroom on the evening of January 3rd, 1994.  I was taking a sit-down pee. Intended to poo. But only pee came out. I was wearing teal briefs. And one sock.

I know this because I have hyperthymestic disorder.  I can recall nearly every day of my life. In minute detail.

Also, my ex-wife just got remarried to a tall douche-bag dentist. I hate that she seems happy. 

That is all.