You Drive an Over-Sized or Over-Priced Car to Compensate for Your Under-Sized Penis or Fake Breasts

I've lived in the south and now Los Angeles. Maybe an F-350, maybe a Lambo. It's stupid. Your car is stupid. You're really stupid.

I'm guessing you're 4. Maybe 4 1/2 inches on a good day. If you remembered to take your Extenze tablet. I know you saw the ads at 3 am. You were probably rubbing it out to one of the commercials. (I won't fault you for that, I probably did, too.)

People think the 'My child is an Honor Student' bumper stickers are dumb. At least the attention is on your offspring. Be grateful to be alive and the opportunity to afford good meals with good people. Don't piss away money on your own vanity.

However, if you do piss away money on your own vanity, make sure to sell out hard and to the right. The way it goes on a 4 1/2 day. Be the best d-bag you can be.

The Fake Dog Feces Pick-Up

It's like the boner tuck. All guys know it. Sitting in some lame survey course with an endless stream of power point presentations in front of you. The mind drifts. The pants buldge. If you're to stand-up, somebody might as well go sleep in the tent you've just pitched.

Similar to the penis tuck, I pulled an almost parallel maneuver when walking my dog to the car this past weekend. Without a grocery bag, paper towel, or New York Post in-hand, I had nothing else to do when I noticed my dog about to lay cable in the lawn of the apartment complex nearby. I looked around. The coast was clear. Quickly and calmly, I removed my running shoe (this has to tie into running somehow). I pulled off my black sock. I scowered the area once more. Two bikers and some passing cars at about 35 mph. I reached down. Fake scoop. Fake scoop. Fake scoop that almost touched.

I know. Judge me how you will. However, if you haven't already, you'll be in my shoes, too. And when you are, you'll remove those shoes, reach for your sock and start fake scooping. Just don't make contact.

Personal Triumph at the Playboy Club

The answer is yes. I had an eight-some. Myself, Hugh Hefner, and then 3 sets of hot blond twin ho's. H.H. was the conductor. Me at the caboose. Cigars. Patron. And low-brow sexual activity.

This is how I spent my Saturday night. Except without everything I just said.

I did, however, get to the top floor of the Playboy Club in Vegas. How? Well, being white and middle class helps. But of course, a friend of a friend who is a hot girl.

Amidst the bunnies, absurdly priced drinks, intimidating body guards and badass view, I realized something. A year ago, to the day, I was driving out to California in my Jeep Liberty (I race soccer moms on weekends). To LA. With about 8 grand in my pocket, no job, no idea of where I was going to live, a dog in my car, and a close friend whom, at the least, would have a drink before my suicidal realization set in.

Now, I proudly sit here with a somewhat regular income, the same Jeep, the same dog, the same favorite "I ran into a wall" haircut, and the same dream with a more defined path. A little further along. A lot further along.

I still wait for my burnout. A demise where the harsh realities of society kick in, and I decide to grow a gut and attend bowling nights on a regular basis. I'm not the Vegas type either. Throw change at my feet, and I'll pick it up and run fast. Somewhere between college football and song-and-dance.

I'm not always entised, I'm not always stable, but I've got my legs under me at the moment.

What I'm most proud of though...even in the depths of hedonism, I haven't wasted many moments.

I guess that's my goal right now...just don't waste many moments.

Me and Julio (and a line somewhere in there I keep coming back to): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqtX4qZBdRs

Dumb Sorority Bitch!

SO here's the story...


This weekend I was at a party. I was talking to this girl, and she had a friend. Before I met the friend, I was prefaced with the fact that this girl was visiting from Maine. Ok, so drinks
are flowing. That always helps.

So, I meet this friend. I shake her hand and say, "Hi, my name's Justin, nice to meet you." She says, "Hi, nice to meet you." I then say, "I heard you're from Maine." She says, "Yes." I say, "Well, it was nice of you to shave your legs for tonight's party."

Ok, funny, yes...come on you know it. Offensive...well, no. I'm smiling and saying, 'just kidding.'

A minute or two later, she says, "I just graduated college." I say, "Cool." She says, "I was in a sorority." I say, "What sorority?" She says, "Phi Mu." I say, "Oh, cool...Phi MOOO."

Ok, funny, eh...offensive, well, no. I haven't met any of her sorority "sisters." But again, smile, 'just kidding.' Not this time...she goes off.

"Phi Mu has been around longer than this country, since 1831! You can't say that! You don't even know us. That's so rude!" I say, "Wait, wait, Sir Isaac, I'm no history buff, but (and this is just some random fact I picked up in 4th grade), but I'm pretty sure this country was founded a few years before 1831. And furthermore, maybe I should poke fun at your college and not your sorority for not having any idea when this country was called a country." She went on to tell me how I wasn't funny and was just mean, and I had no right to say any of that.

I went on to argue with her for a few minutes with something resembling what I'm writing below:

So, here's the breakdown. I offended her for the Phi MOOO comment because, according to the person who told me this (a good friend of mine who was in the sorority), Phi MOOO is a common nickname given to them by other fraternities and sororities because of the reputation of having rather robust women. At the time, I just said it and didn't think about what it meant. Upon further examination though, I decided she still should not be offended.

First, she was not fat. Second, I don't know a single person in her sorority! If I attacked her personally, that's wrong. If I attacked her friends, that's another thing. I didn't do either. This is all the reason to not be offended. Oh, and her legs were shaved and I have never been to Maine (and I mentioned this, along with the fact that I've heard it is a very pretty state).

And lets get one more thing straight. Frats and sororities are fine I suppose. Drinking urine as a hazing and ritualistic chest shavings are odd, but whatever. The people in sororities and fraternities are not 'sisters' and 'brothers.' That may be what they call each other. There is tradition there, ok. But they're not kin. At best, a few of them will remain truly good friends. And that's great. But the whole brother-sister thing (or, to be more exact, that some take it to heart)...that's just a way of rationalizing the fact that these are people you initially don't know and decide to pay money to drink the same beer with.

Like I said, later, some may become close friends. And I'm all for close friends!

Some folks need to get off their high horse and stop taking themselves so seriously. Just because you don't have a funny comeback to what I say doesn't mean you should be offended. Laugh or don't laugh. That's your choice, but don't get bitchy. It's a goddamn joke. I make fun of myself way more than I make fun of anyone else. It's called humility, and for $1 you can make a collect call and go get some.

One other thing. I have friends who, on occasion, will say, your mom jokes and sometimes they get directed at me. This happens occasionally, and sometimes they double-take to see if I'm offended. Why? Because my mom is no longer alive. I'm not offended at all, though. Because it is a joke. Just a joke, and if it's funny, I laugh. Or at least I fake laugh, if it was a decent effort.

A very wise philosopher once said, "If we couldn't laugh, then we'd all go insane..."

...like this bitch.

What Does Memorial Day Mean?

Memorial Day! Remember to remember. That's not as easy as it sounds for a lot of us.

In a world of facebook, twitter, templated blogs and such, memorial day takes on a different tone in my opinion. On the face, it is suppose to be a time to remember ones who have been lost and who may still be fighting in war. But how much can it really mean for someone who hasn't been there, and lets be honest, for many of us who have never taken the time to at least try to figure it out?


Interesting article:
http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2009/05/25/the-decline-of-veterans-in-washington/

On top of that, war is a complex thing. It involves an imminent loss of life. It involves the ultimate cost, and at the same time, the act of it has been beaten into the ground so many times in our country's (not to mention our world's) history.

So, instead of remembering to remember. Maybe lets try to remember to try to understand. Try to put our shoes in someone else's. You don't have to agree with past wars fought, but you can always better understand the constructs of them, the effectiveness or ineffectiveness of them, and most importantly, the human face behind them.

Below are easy-to-read wikipedia links on a few of our most recent wars. Feel free to take a gander...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Korean_War

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Vietnam_War

It is Time to Do the Little & Annoying

I hate admitting this. I talk on a grandiose scale a lot. For good reason. In our day-to-day, we often get lost in little things. Annoying things. We let these things own us, and we don't see out of it very often.

What I have missed, however, in these blogs, is a lot of the little stuff. And it is so necessary. For all the big things, with big purposes, can't be arrived at if you don't do the little things. How can you get from Point A to Point C without going through Point B? I don't think you can.

Lets use running as a tangible example. If a certain runner wants to run 16 minutes flat for the 5K then what does he or she need to do it? First, the desire (aka the big picture). He or she has to have the dream and the passion to drive him or her to put in the work to hit the time. Second, the work. Or the workouts. This takes time. It can be quite mundane, and it can cut into outside projects...like binge drinking or skating off to The Keys -- to binge drink. But the first can't be actualized if the second part isn't in place. Finally, performance. This is letting A and B mesh together. The only other element to be factored in to Part C...FUN. Generally, you don't do something if it isn't rewarding or fun. Usually, it can and is both. Part A (The Dream) + Part B (The Work) + Having Fun = Part C (Performance).

I tend to miss Part B. Mentally, Part B is not the most challenging. But it is absolutely necessary to get to Part C. Oh, and there is one more thing to Part B. While you're doing Part B, you can't worry about Part C. In other words, you can't worry about the result. You can't worry about success or failure. Success and failure aren't real things anyway. Just a figment of some bygone, black and white frame-of-mind. Worrying about Part C clouds Part B. There is a reason why Part C comes after.

Now, I'm confused over my parts. Which one is the one you take if the condom breaks? Oh, that's Plan B.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKkffzm6L7o

Idiot America? Maybe, but Maybe Not.

Just read this article about a new book entitled, Idiot America. Go ahead and give it a read (it's quick). Following, read a few of the comments below the article.

http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2009/05/idiot_america_new_and_expanded.php

Ok, if you decided to not read the article, then you're probably a good example of what the article is speaking to. To give a brief summary: the article discusses the book with the popularized Green Day lyric as its title. Throughout, the book highlights examples and the reasoning behind the act of the dumbing down of our society, often times reducing complex topics to very black and white terms. Aided by the ease of the internet and milestone advances in technology, now more than ever, anyone can be an expert. "If anyone can be an expert, then no one can be an expert!"

This brings something to mind something I've yet to address, and that is, the purpose of this blog. In short, I'm doing this for myself. It is an exercise in thinking, articulating, and then transposing that into something that, in turn, piques the interest of you, the reader. I'm not trying to make money or characterize myself as an expert. I'm certainly not an expert. And I may not even pique your interest.

I have goals, but if someone were to ask me what I do or what I want to do, I could not provide a clear or definitive thing. In fact, there are many things that interest me, and I'm OK with pursuing those things until it feels time to focus more energy in another direction. This blog helps me along in that pursuit. My purpose is for self-improvement, and thus far, I'm achieving that.

As far as Idiot America goes...well, I have a feeling in Whitman's time there were some greedy assholes, too. Some self-proclaimed whatevers. He dealt with it, though. People are pretty decent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1GDU6ns2mRM -- Billy Bragg & Wilco