The Porkroll/Taylor Ham Argument Is For Losers

If you ever have been a third party to two New Jerseyans meeting outside of their state and one of them asks the other “do you call it pork roll or Taylor ham?”, you have my blessing to punch them both in the face. Little history for you, pork roll is a popular breakfast meat served on sandwiches almost exclusively in New Jersey. Like if you get a bacon, egg, and cheese in NJ you’re just wasting you’re time. It’s that delicious. Doesn’t matter that my college roommate called it “glorified bologna” when I brought it down to Alabama. He also deserved to be punched in the face. 

It doesn’t take a detective figure out where the correct name confusion comes from. Look at the picture above, it says both. I personally call it pork roll. But that’s not me taking a stance here, I just don’t want to write the rest of this blog writing out “pork roll/Taylor Ham” every time I reference it. 

But we’ve been led to believe you MUST take a stance on your classification preference. And tirelessly defend it. It’s awful, it’s cringey, and I’ve done it myself.

It’s a crutch really. People just don’t know how to talk to people anymore. So we’ve agreed upon these geographical inside jokes with people we’ve never met before. It’s done in hopes that we won’t stand there awkwardly sipping our drinks in deafening silence. A generation who can’t hold a conversation but squirm at the thought of silence. 

When I lived in Alabama, southerners loved introducing me to other people from New Jersey. It amazed them for some reason and they always thought I would wind up knowing the other NJ native somehow. There was a shocking amount of people from Jersey at Alabama, so this happened a lot. After exchanging the initial pleasantries and questions, someone (them or me) would go “Pork roll or Taylor Ham?”. Almost immediately the other person would die a little inside like “we’re really going to do this huh” and then answer with either pork roll or Taylor ham. 

If you call it the same thing you high five and it’s over. Figure out an exit strategy. But if you both call it something different? Jesus. You have to stand there and pretend to care about what another grown adult calls a piece of meat. Then you go back and forth with “no you say it wrong.....no you say it wrong...no YOU say it wrong....” and so on and so forth until you have to go home.

I want to repeatedly bang my head against the wall just thinking about how many times I’ve been in this situation. 

Well no more. I’m done with the charade. I don’t care what you call it. If it’s a delicious meat on a bagel with egg and cheese I’m going to eat it and shut the fuck up. I don’t think anybody actually wants to die on this hill. But if I’m wrong and you’re truly passionate this, kindly please jump in the Raritan Bay with concrete in your shoes. 

We’re better than this as a state, so I’m putting my foot down. I’ll lead the charge to stop pretending to care what other people call breakfast meat. Learn to talk about something else or be content saying nothing. 

Waging War On Italian Food

People find this blasphemous coming out of a native New Jerseyan’s mouth but Italian food is trash. It’s kids menu food. The Italians go-to, spaghetti and meatballs, is littered on every children’s menu in the nation because restaurants know that their undeveloped pallets will actually enjoy it. I’m Irish, sue me. 

Every Italian meal is the same exact thing repurposed to make you think you’re ordering something new. It’s whatever’s in the kitchen, drowned in marinara sauce. 70% of their meals have marinara sauce, the most overrated sauce going. Pasta, chicken parm, calamari, mozzarella sticks, mussels, eggplant, whatever ya got. Smother it in the same thing so everything tastes somewhat similar. Balotelli nailed it, the Italians have a serious diversity problem. 

But what about pasta? Fuck pasta. Anything that I could actually cook in college can’t be that good. Oh you don’t like spaghetti? Try rigatoni, penne, linguine, fusilli, or the bow tie one. It’s the same fucking thing! Changing the shape isn’t going to magically trick me into suddenly enjoying it. 

Right now you might be thinking, well maybe you just don’t like marinara. And you’d be right. So let’s go to the number two ranked Italian sauce and have a conversation about it that I’ll just make up:

“Why don’t you order vodka sauce then?”

“It’s just more crushed up tomatoes isn’t it.”

“Yeah pretty much. We just put a little booze in it.” 

I bet you think you have me with pizza. Don’t even. Everyone knows in their heart of hearts that pizza isn’t Italian food. Even if it once was, it’s been perverted with oil and toppings and extra cheese to fit our disgusting American pallets to the point of no return. Pizza is just as much Italian food as the corned beef egg rolls I had last night were Chinese food. Not to mention, trigger warning, plain pizza is the worst kind of pizza. Specialty slices are all the rage. Buffalo chicken, chicken bacon ranch, fucking taco slices! Does that sound Italian to you?
The best part of an Italian meal is the bread. Let that sink in. How basic does your food need to be that your biggest selling point is the base of literally every culture’s cuisine? Fucking Moses had access to the best part of your food in the middle of the desert. 
By this point there’s probably a lot of sweaty Italian-Americans mispronouncing Italian curses at me. Probably want to attack my hertiage’s food, because like I said, I’m Irish. Go ahead, Irish food isn’t anything to write home about. Yeah I go in on potatoes, but who doesn’t? 
My favorite food, Chinese. I love Chinese food so much that my mom tells random strangers that she ate a ton of Chinese food when she was pregnant with me. She has boundary issues. There’s so many options, so many different flavors on a Chinese menu that I just get lost in it. Chinese is so good that mean/ignorant people started rumors that there’s a good chance you’re eating cat and people were still like “yeah I don’t give a shit, I’ll roll the dice”. Italian could never. 

Moving Out Your Childhood Home Is Weird

I’m selling my childhood home. And by “I’m”, I literally mean me. Despite my 0 realtor experience. My mom used to sell houses before Zillow and quite possibly before the internet. So what started as her being our realtor has quickly turned into me managing the Zillow account. Taking calls, putting up ads in the Staten Island newspaper, the whole nine. It’s bullshit. 

As stressful as it is, selling it definitely isn’t the worst part. It’s the end of my childhood, the end of an era, and the end of a marriage (looking at you mom and dad). We moved there in ‘96 when I was three so it’s pretty much my first and only house.

I gutted my entire room. Closest, under the bed, everything. Nothings left. Found my favorite beanie baby, my blackberry, and valentines card from my fourth grade crush. Lotta memories in that room. Lotta memories in that house. Playing Halo 2 split screen for hours with the boys, listening to Da Drought 3 in the garage with no heat, my first kiss, tackle football in the backyard, my first fingering, two of my dogs buried in the backyard. The list goes on. I’m handling it alright though I think, can’t say the same for the rest of the family. 

My dad makes inappropriate jokes to deflect his emotions, a family pastime. The other day he pointed to a spot in his room and told my little brother that’s where he was conceived. Gross, I’ve walked over that spot no less than a million times. He’s kind of a bozo so he’s not involved in the selling process which is frustrating him. To make him feel included I had him post our Zillow page to his Facebook since he has 4,968 friends. That’s a real stat. If you gave me a whole week I don’t think I could name 4,968 people who have ever lived. He got 201 comments on the post and I shit you not he replied to every single one. 

My mom is just sad. Which is really depressing for a son to see, but she sure does make it easier. She moved out a year ago and coming back to the house makes her cry. The first 10 times we comforted her until she calmed down. After the next 30 it was like alright what do you keep coming back here for. You didn’t need to drive over just to check if the hose still worked, a simple call would’ve sufficed. Plus she loves berating my brother and I for “treating it like a frat house when we’re trying to sell”. 

As far as my siblings go, my brother has a black soul and my sister started her own family in a new house years ago. 

After telling me that they wouldn’t give me any money from the sale I found out my parents were entertaining an offer 50k under the asking price. I begged them to reconsider and worked a little marketing management. Got three more showings booked today. My parents thanked me and said I’d have a hundred bucks coming my way. I told them they just showed their fucking cards and they better split that 50k they were ready to piss away between their children if I get asking price for this thing. Light at the end of the tunnel. 

He’s Here And He’s Perfect!

Our king has made his way back into the headlines. The Rockefeller Christmas tree has bullied the Ravens and Steelers into playing at 3:30 on Wednesday. This magnificent display of nature plays second fiddle to no one. Especially not to two grossly overrated football teams.

I cannot stress how much I love this fucking tree. Raggedy looking fuck. There was a time when these pictures were released that I would search “Rockefeller Tree” into Twitter just to bask in everybody’s whining. And now it’s back. Oh you should hear my buddies down south bitching about how they’re going to miss the game cause they’ll be working. Playoff implications viewed through a gamecast all because some stick figure drawn tree is getting lights put on it up in New York. The Tree has now pissed off football people, PETA cause they kidnapped an owl, tree people I imagine, tourists, and Christmas people on account of its appearance. Who’s left to enjoy it? Me, that’s who. 

It’s just a hilarious tree. Rumor has it that the tree picked was purposely hideous to deter people from flocking to Rockefeller Center during the pandemic. I can only hope that’s true. If it is, whoever made that call deserves a raise. All these wieners crying on Twitter about how their Christmas tradition is ruined. How this Christmas tree was supposed to be their symbol of hope to get past 2020, and this is what they got. Get over yourself. Some people couldn’t go to their family members funeral this year, I think you’ll be ok not taking a picture with a tree. It’s a tree, there’s millions of them. Go outside with your iPhone. 

The shame of it is, this is the first year that I’d actually want to take a picture with the tree. It’d be my Christmas card forever. You can take a picture every year with the same looking tree. This is the one year you can get a picture with a fugly lookin tree. It’a like a baseball card with a spelling mistake, super rare. But alas, even imagining my mother screeching at me for taking the train into the city is enough to make my brain bleed. 

I don’t know, maybe I just relate to the tree. I’m also a depressing looking giant designed to keep people away from me, despite my shocking amount of Christmas spirit. Long Live The Tree.

UPDATE: Apparently they miraculously cured the tree’s appearance and now I have nothing. 

Confession: I Don't Know When Sports' Jerseys Are Ugly

Double confession I don't know how to pluralize "jersey". Jersies just looked wrong. Jerzies? Who cares, the Sixers dropped these new uniforms and it's been all over Twitter. Are they ugly? Are they tough? Who's to say. I have no idea, I never have. It's not just NBA either. Whether it's NFL, MLB, collegiate, etc. I can't seem to get a guage on how Twitter will recieve new jerseys. I can't even tell you how many times I've seen a uniform release and think "thats pretty fresh", only to have one of my snarky friends post it in our group chat with a puke emoji. Then everyone piles on it and I sneak off into the corner keeping my original assesment to myself. For whatever reason my opinion is always on the wrong side of public perception. I'm ashamed to admit that I now wait for the Twitter results before praising or bashing a new uniform. Maybe I can't get a read on sports fashion but I CAN read a room and regurgitate accordingly. I've seen jerseys I liked get dragged on Twitter only to say to a buddy at a bar "You see how gross the new {team name} jerseys are? Lol." My taste in clothing isn't all that bad. In fact, a lot of pounds ago I used to fancy myself a fashionable guy. Which is why I have such a fucking issue every time a team reveals a new uniform. All of a sudden every guy with a Twitter handle has a degree from FIT. Using terms like "color clash" and shit. Well I'm done being afraid of my stances on jerseys. No more will dudes who buy the 4 for $20 t-shirts from Champs with white Air Forces dictate my opinions. The Sixers jerseys are just fine.

GaTa Don't Play No Shit

I know I'm late, but I hangover binged DAVE yesterday. Spoilers incoming. As it currently stands, I am watching or completed 126 TV shows. 42 of which are still active and making new seasons. I try not to add any shows currently airing unless I think I'll really love it. I was waiting for a couple more seasons of DAVE before I was going to watch, but my hangover partner had other plans in mind. It was awesome. Lil Dicky very well may be a genius talent, but it was GaTa who stole the show. 

GaTa (pronounced like alliGATA) plays Lil Dicky's sort of spirit guide and hype man in the show. GaTa meets Dave by chance in the studio and helps him navigate the same music industry that shunned him. He's a motormouth who's fast paced ramblings are seeded in hilariously good counsel. I've already added "let's wiggle" to my own vocabulary. Stole it really. 

The fifth episode "Hype Man" is centered around GaTa. You witness his rock bottom and unlikely trajectory that leads him to his friendship with Lil Dicky. There's a scene that really did it for me where it's revealed that GaTa is struggling with being bipolar. The episode is a turning point for the show where the audience realizes it's not all dick jokes and rainbows. There's serious issues going on viewed through a comedic veil. GaTa's revelation to the group comes through a face full of tears. He confesses that he fears constant rejection by his peers due to his illness. Choked up, he delivers my favorite line of the whole show:

"I love yall man. You guys make me feel comfortable. You guys are weirdos just like me bro. This dude rap about havin a small dick all the time. This dude right here rubs acne on his back, no problem. This dude back here dresses cool as fuck, he knows all the hip-hop urban lingo but pronounces all his words properly! And I'm really bipolar bruh, like really bipolar." 

And he acted his fucking ass off doing it. It's a sad but funny scene. Kicks you right in the heart balls. But the tears seemed too real and the conversation too authentic. Which ultimately led to me checking DAVE's imdb page. You can imagine my surprise when I found out that "GaTa" was played by none other than GaTa. The dude plays himself. 

So I internet stalked him. Turns out GaTa is Lil Dicky's real-life hype man whom he met in the studio. He actually did have a stint in the music industry and has the Instagram pictures with a young Tyga to prove it. GaTa really was diagnosed as bipolar and is currently using his story to spread awareness and acceptance. Dude never acted a day in his life and is now a star of one of TV's best new shows. 

I don't have any proof, but Will Ferrell's impulsive pimp alter ego in The Other Guys would make a lot of sense for how GaTa got his name.  

DAVE gets my stamp of approval, whatever that's worth. Besides the wit, cringe comedy, big name cameos, and rap, my biggest takeaway so far has been from GaTa. Be yourself, be weird, and if you don't fake your relationships, the ones you want to make will find you. 

My Palm Springs

If you haven't watched Andy Samberg's new movie Palm Springs on Hulu I recommend you catch yourself up. It's funny, it's frustrating, it's thought provoking, it's a good movie. If you haven't watched it and you care, I'm going to spoil a few things. If you don't care about spoilers, well, then you're a sociopath. 

The movie is about Andy Samberg's character who's stuck in an infinite time loop where every day he wakes up on the morning of his girlfriend's friend's wedding. It feels like a destination wedding. We should all be so lucky to have our Groundhog's Day on vacation.

I don't think I'd be one of the lucky ones. If I was to unfortunately find myself in a loop I'm sure it would take place in my stupid ass boring ass hometown in New Jersey. So I got to thinking how I would spend my eternity where I grew up. This is what I came up with. 

Ways to murder myself. Kind of a rough start but let's get it out of the way. In the movie, the day doesn't only restart if you fall asleep but also if you die. Dying seems like a natural starting point to try and escape foreverness. Andy's character explains to Cristini Milioti that he went through a similar phase when she kills them in a truck accident.

I have a fear of heights so I don't do rollercoasters. I don't understand them. The only thrill of a rollercoaster is oh shit, if this goes wrong I'm dead. Pass. But if dying isn't an issue I'll drive the forty minutes to Six Flags and head straight to Kingda Ka. But knowing my shitty ticker I'll still die of a heart attack.

I've never been to the top of the Empire State Building (see fear of heights^^). I know this is terrible to say but the couple of chances I've had to go up, I swore that it'd be taken down in another terrorist attack with me on top of it. But I can't die, so even my bad luck wouldn't play a factor. In my loop, I'd jump off. I heard a quote once that humans don't have a fear of heights but rather a fear that they'll jump. So why not the Empire State Building?

Lastly, I would drown the shit out of myself. It's always bothered me that people say it's a "peaceful" way to die. Shut up. How the fuck would you know? This one I'd do just to get some answers.

Entertaining myself. Forever is a long time. With death off the table I'd treat my existence as a video game with unlimited respawns. For most of these missions I'd need money for expenses and drugs to stay awake. Money isn't a big hurdle, I'd use a million credit cards and never have to pay them back. And I'd say 70% of people know how to get meth in their hometown if it was a do or die situation. All bases covered, let's rock.

If you don't like bank robbing movies go shit in your hand. By the time I'm done, my bank robbing skills would make John Dillinger blush. People may get hurt along the way but they'll be fine when I wake up. I'll probably eat a few strays during my heists but it'll be worth the rush. It also doubles as a good source of income if I can learn how to rob a local bank in under an hour.

Next would be Area 51. This would be a Boss level mission. It would presumably take some heavy weaponry and a flight to Nevada. And meth, a whole lot of meth. Once I figured out my way in, the only shitty thing would not being able to tell everybody what I've discovered. Still worth it. I wouldn't stop until I got answers.

Last is sex stuff. Andy's character spends a lot of his time wooing his surroundings. That's just nature. I'm not going to tell you what I'd do though, piggy. If you must know, hypothetical arrangements were made.

How I'd break the loop. In the movie Milioti's character becomes an expert in quantum physics to escape their loop. If you literally gave me eternity I don't think I could crack quantum physics. So I'd go to the man who has the most clearance on the entire planet. The president. I'd drive five hours every day to DC to map out a way into the White House. Let's assume after years and years of trial and error riddled with some gory deaths, I succeed. After all this time I finally corner the president, not unlike National Treasure. I explain to him my situation but he doesn't believe me. I tell him to think of a password for him to believe me that only he would know. I say I'll do this all again tomorrow and give him the password even though he won't remember any of this. I ask him if he's thought of one, he says yes. I tell him the password. I already did this yesterday. His mind is blown, he believes me now. I explain to him he needs to keep me awake until his best scientists can figure this out. The loop breaks and now I have worldly influence. That's it, that's my loop.

If you haven't watched Andy Samberg's new movie Palm Springs on Hulu I recommend you catch yourself up. It's funny, it's frustrating, it's thought provoking, it's a good movie. If you haven't watched it and you care, I'm going to spoil a few things. If you don't care about spoilers, well, then your a sociopath. 

The Weather App Theory

I'd say I believe less conspiracy theories than the average person today. I only believe in this theory that I'm going to tell you about because I made it up myself. The Weather App on your iPhone keeps saying that it's going to be shitty out so nobody makes plans. Even now I'm looking back at my window to make sure there isn't a red dot on my head.

Weather was never much of a concern to my plans. If I leave my house, I'm in a bar. If I don't, I'm in my house. The only time I would check the Weather App was to see if the Yankee game was going to be postponed or if I needed to make changes to a daily fantasy lineup. Other than that, weather shmeather.

But as of late, I've been checking the app every single morning. I've been working on weekends and the weather has been a strong indicator of how busy or miserable my day is going to be. It has been supposed to rain or thunderstorm A LOT. But it hasn't rained or thunderstormed a lot. I've gathered this data from the amount of white guy conversations of "Hoo man I should've been a weatherman. Six figure salary and you're allowed to be wrong 60% of the time? No accountability amirite?"

But the hypothetical white guy from the ENZYTE commercial is right, the weatherman IS wrong all the time. So what would be a better way to keep people in their homes than faux weather? If people stay home from storms that never come, they shake their fist at the sky and say that dang weatherman is at it again. Who could blame the government for that? It's the perfect crime. It's so genius that I wish I'd thought of it, even though I actually did.

Keep track of your little thunder cloud emojis. See how many actually come to fruition. Keep a journal if you must. More importantly, if you don't hear from me in a couple of days it's probably because I was assassinated.

Fanny Vs. Cunt

My mom informed me that I'd be the one tasked with entertaining my cousin when her and my great-aunt came over from Scotland. My great-aunt who married a Glasgow judge and my cousin who grew up wealthy in Scotland's capital. The same fancy great-aunt who was responsible for the only time I ever got soap in my mouth as a child. 

Last time my aunt visited, my mom warned seven-year-old me to be on my best behavior. So naturally, I farted on her. My Grandpa found it hilarious, my darling mother did not. Liquid soap right in the mouth. Punishment didn't even make sense. Needless to say I was nervous for our second encounter. 

When I was introduced to my cousin, or re-introduced rather, it was awkward. After asking pleasantries on the flight and duration of stay I had nothing. So we went quiet. Well, the grown-ups did not like that. They continued to tell us how close we were when we were infants like that meant anything to either one of us. Then my aunt told us the last time we were "hangin oot" together was when she had the two of us naked in the tub. Thanks for that, that definitely makes the situation way more comfortable. My cousin turned beet red at her grandmother and I pretended like I didn't hear it.

Separate and conquer was the method of choice. I had to get my cousin away from the adults so we didn't have to act like them. My other cousin, an American one, just closed on her new home and it seemed like the perfect excuse for a "cousins only" BBQ. Long story short, my Scottish cousin got hammered and it turns out she's hilarious. I don't know why I was surprised, my blood does run through her veins after all.  

After good drinks and better conversation, my one buzzkill cousin decided to question our Scottish guest on why she says "cunt" so much. Wasn't exactly what we were prepared for from the Glasgow socialite. She apologized and told us that cunt didn't have the same zing on it like it does here. Then she explained to us the many uses of the word. For instance "the cuntin thing, or ah cunt, or instead of ma friends I say ma cunts, or calling a child a wee cunt".

That's when I chimed in with "Would you call your grandma a cunt?" 

To which she replied, "Oh Gran? My favorite cunt." 

All of us laughed except one, one scowled. When the giggles died out everyone's new favorite cousin got real serious. She said "You cunts don't say that word like we don't say 'fanny'."

Umm fuckin what now? What's wrong with fanny? We told her that's what children use sometimes instead of "butt". She scolded us for letting children use the word in the first place. I didn't have the heart to tell her it's not necessarily every day vocabulary. She was enjoying being disgusted with us revolting Americans. 

Then she looked me dead in the eye and said "You wouldn't use that word with your Gran, would you?"

"I mean sure. Like if she was dizzy or something I could say 'Grandma sit back down on your fanny."

She started gagging and said "Good lord. Please doont say that in front of me ever again."

Language is a cruel mistress. Location means a lot. In Scotland "cunt" is a term of endearment while here in America it's grounds for termination. The more you know. I thought the trip was a resounding success. I even discussed plans to visit the old country. My darling mother once again, disagreed. I'm too tall and strong now for soap in the mouth, so she's banned me from her homeland. 

How Do I Tell My New Dog That We Have To Put Our Old Dog Down?

The day is coming. My chocolate lab, Mickey, is taking his last lap. He's been in our family for the last 14 years and his last check up did not go as well as we hoped. Mickey's eyesight is going, his hips are failing him, he's riddled with benign lumps, and now he's diabetic. Which what the fuck, who knew that was a thing? I told my dad to stop feeding him human food but he wouldn't listen. Now he's to blame for my dog's and potentially my own diabetes. Vet said we need to make a decision soon. 

Luckily for Mickey, his last few years were spent with our new dog, Avon. I don't call them brothers because I'm not one of those creepy people. Also, they lick each other's dicks so it'd be inappropriate to label them in that fashion. Partners maybe. 

Avon is a pit bull my brother rescued when he was at college. He didn't tell my parents he had a dog until he graduated and it was time to come home. My mom told him he'd have to move out if he brought the dog with him. Joke was on her because he did bring Avon home, and it was her who moved out eight months later after my parents split up. 

We're pretty sure Avon was used as a fighting dog. He has a bunch of curiously placed scars on his face and intimacy issues. Well, he pretends to hate love. Avon looks away whenever you show him affection like he's not enjoying it but the second you walk away he comes back for a second helping. You couldn't get him to bite you if you tried, and trust me I've tried. He's a mush.  

We learned early on that we weren't allowed to walk Mickey and Avon separately. Avon would lose his ever loving mind whenever we took Mickey out without him. Yelling, squealing, yelping, made a whole scene. It's just a theory, and a sad one at that, but I think whenever Avon's old dog friends were taken away it meant that they were going to fight and wouldn't be coming back the same if at all. Which begs the question, what the fuck are we going to do? 

Mickey's going sooner rather than later. He can't take two steps without being out of breath. When we take Mickey to the vet for the final time is Avon going to think that we had him killed in a fight? I can't exactly explain to Avon all of Mickey's medical conditions. 

This sucks. It's the first time I've been old enough where I felt the responsibility to be there when they put my dog down. I'm going to be a wreck, Avon's screams on the way out won't help. The only logical solution I can think of is I have to get another dog. New rule of two. I must have two dogs in my house at all times so the eldest dog never feels sad or lonely. 

Can You Shave In Space?

I have shaving on my mind. My little brother and I are having a petty war over our shared bathroom sink. He shaved his beard and left little shavies fucking everywhere. I yelled at him, he accused me of a similar crime, now the sink has been covered in dark tiny hairs for the past week. While he's still shaving in our bathroom, I've been shaving in our Dad's sink to prove a point. Little silent protest action. But every time I shower in our bathroom, just seeing the sink is enough to make me consider fratricide. So I started to wonder, what could possibly be worse than this?

It's probably because I'm reading science fiction at the moment, but I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to shave in space. The sink is bad enough, but what if you don't even have a sink? Or gravity! The fucking horror. Your spaceship covered in floating shavies! Everybody is itchy 24/7, or whatever the term is for a place with no day or night. God forbid you mosey about the cabin with your mouth open. Imagine choking on someone else's beard and then having to wash it down with water made from filtered urine. There's just no way they shave. 

Alright I'll clean the sink. Perspective and all. There's also the looming possibility that it actually was my hair the whole time, but I doubt it. I'll clean it after I shave for work tomorrow. I hate that I have to shave for work, maybe I'll switch to an astronaut. I'll take the peepee water if I can keep my beard. I'm sure I meet whatever the other requirements are. 

Imagine Being A Disney Hotel Employee?

No fucking thanks. Who has more pressure on them right now more than Disney World hotel employees? Well probably vaccination researchers and a lot of other people. But still, they're getting dragggged. There is just no way they're used to this kind of heat. This isn't their normal feedback, everyone is usually too happy to complain. Or they're child adults in which case who cares. What happens to "The Happiest Place On Earth" when everybody is pissed off?

I can't stop picturing that team meeting in the hotel the morning after NBA players started posting pictures of their "Fyre Fest" food. Just imagine a manager smiling while screaming at a bunch of terrified employees who also have to be smiling while they're getting their asses chewed out. "Listen up you stinkin Mousketeers! Our NBA guests are posting pictures of food that is not so magical looking, wah. FIGURE IT THE FUCK OUT! Now stop being so Goofy, heehee, and have fun out there! Toodles!". I'm no screenwriter, but you get it. Disney people freak me out. 

The NBA players are being dicks. It's a resort, you can't all have suites. LeBron reserved all of them. You knew you were playing in Disney World, they told you that. What were your food expectations? How can you whine about your meal not being fancy enough at a place where the majority of the clientele have chicken fingers and mac & cheese for dinner? The fuck?

So if you're the religious type, send up a prayer for the nineteen-year-old foreign exchange program employees who are getting publicly shafted for not preparing escargot. If South Park is to be believed, The Mouse is not the forgiving type. 

Eggs Are Fucked Up If You Think About It

I am terrified of not being on the top of the food chain. It's easy to see the chaos and destruction that humanity is capable given today's climate. Literally and figuratively. But some of our most heinous acts have become so mundane, so routine, that we never really consider what we're actually doing. When you have an egg, you're eating chicken's period. 

When human females, ya know, menstruate, they're releasing an old egg to make room for the new egg created during ovulation. At least that's what I think happens, I've never had one. At any rate it's a good guess. So, when a hen has their period they are also discarding their unfertilized egg to make room for a new one. Then one time a human saw that happen and said "Mmm yummy" and now we eat Eggs Benedict. 

We use eggs in pretty much everything. A breakfast staple, we use it in our cakes to celebrate birthdays, we whip it into mayonnaise to put on our sandwiches, we made bagels of it, the limit does not exist. How fucked up is that? 

Now imagine we're invaded by an alien race that's so advanced, so civilized, so intelligent that they see humans like we see chickens. Uh oh. Fuckin aliens in their kitchen dipping their meat in human uterus lining just to make the bread crumbs stick when they deep fry it. I know it's gross but it's essentially what we do now.

You might be thinking that I'm a vegetarian or something. I'm not. This is just how my brain works right before I'm about to fall asleep. I'm still very much looking forward to my porkroll egg and cheese in the morning. Yolk extra runny please.   

How Does Stadium Cohabitation Work?

Growing up in New Jersey, sharing stadiums was always a normal thing to me. The Giants and Jets were tag-teaming East Rutherford and I never really gave it a second thought. With my own team, the Rams, now building a shared stadium I realized how many questions I have. 

First order of business is the locker rooms. It's a nauseating new trend to reveal your customized locker rooms and have your fan base drool over it like they're the ones who will be using it. Are there three locker rooms in a shared stadium? Two home, one away? It's my understanding that these new locker rooms are supposed to act as a home away from home where you can relax and play Xbox. Do the Rams have to remove all their shit when the Chargers are home that week? That would piss me off so much that I'd demand a trade. 

Coach's offices. Much like locker rooms, will McVay have to take home all of his playbooks and pictures of his playmate whenever Anthony Lynn needs the Head Coach office? Most likely no, there's probably not a shortage of offices and they aren't nearly as spacious or expensive as a locker room. But what if there's only one home locker room? How do you decide who's office is closer to the locker room? Or who's office has the better view? This could cause a lot of hurt feelings in Inglewood. 

In my head somewhere I knew that there weren't many professional sports teams that share a stadium. I just never confronted the thought. The Lakers obviously bully the Clippers in the Staples Center. Give the Jets the short end of the stick in Metlife because they're used to playing second fiddle. MLB, nobody. I'm pretty sure the only thing NHL players share are venereal diseases but I'm not entirely sure. I'm sorry I just don't have room for hockey. I guess now I all I can do is hope the Rams are the favorite child of SoFi stadium. 

I'm aware I can Google all these, but answers have a way of being total letdowns. It's questions that are fun.    

I'm Being Stalked By The President

I'm still fighting the good fight of not voting or belonging to any political party. But it's getting increasingly more difficult. My original stance was laughing at both sides without much knowledge of what the fuck is going on. But things are serious now. America is serious. I'd like to go back to laughing. Word must have reached the Oval Office of my indifference because Trump is working tirelessly to recruit me. And I gave him my email like an idiot. 

How'd the President get my email you ask? Well the short answer is Christmas, if you're satisfied with that skip to the next paragraph. The long answer is that I have 30 cousins on my dad's side and we use the "Secret Santa" method for gift giving. My cousins are made up of a pretty evenly 14 Democrats/14 Republicans split with my brother and I drinking in the corner making fun of everyone while they argue. Christmas of 2016, I picked the leader of the Republican cousins and decided to get him a MAGA hat off Trump's website. I wanted to nuke Christmas. Well, joke is on me because I must have left a box checked and now Trump is back four years later to collect on his assumed support. 

In the last week Trump has emailed me ten times. The rest of the Mean Street Posse consisting of Donald Trump Jr., Eric Trump, a Trump Exec, and Newt Gingrich emailed me a combined sixteen times. I only went back a week but this has been going on for months and I didn't feel like putting that much effort into going through my emails. Page out of Hilary's book. Anyway, they've been asking me out to lunch, wondering if I'm getting their emails, and telling me that they need me and shit. Like, needy much? Take a hint. 

I'm purposely not opening the emails so they can't see that I'm actively ghosting them via the Patriot Act or CIA. I'm not being the one who leaves the government on Read. But if anyone has a direct line to the President, please let him know that I'm flattered but not interested in seeing anyone on either side at the moment. Or ever.     

I Hate Biopics

Most of my friends know that I became a Ram's fan back in the early 2000s because of the The Greatest Show On Turf. More notably, Kurt Warner. So when it was announced that the dude from Shazam would be portraying Kurt in an upcoming biopic, I received numerous texts asking me how pumped I was. I lied in every response I gave. I don't actually think it's going to be dope. It's a biopic and biopics suck. 

I'll admit this Kurt Warner flick was a newly found breakthrough in my opinion on the topic. Every recent biopic I've seen has triggered the same response of "Yeah, it was alright". I'm done pretending otherwise. Take your Oscars and shove them up your ass. 

Like most of my opinions though, I don't completely agree with this one. There are always exceptions, 8 Mile being the most obvious one. My raving review does largely stem from a childhood spent being an angry suburban white boy with an unhealthy attraction to a junkie version of Brittany Murphy though. Doesn't make it not a classic. But the rest stink.

I read a lot. Whenever that's revealed, I either get roasted or recommended books. I hate both reactions equally. People love recommending biographies, I think it makes them feel smart. No thanks, I already minored in history I know what happens to Ulysses S Grant. My take on reading has always been that they're like little portable TV shows that help me escape reality. With my escape route in mind, why would I put myself back into the real world? I had no problem admitting that with reading, but why not with watching? Probably because I don't watch movies alone and I don't want to upset my compadre by telling them we just wasted the last three hours being told a story that we already knew. Well not anymore. 

Stop pretending to like things you don't like, it's liberating. Or don't, I don't really give a shit. With all of that being said, I am pumped for the Hype House biopic dropping in 2040. I pretend like I don't know what's going on for appearance's sake, but I just can't quit that drama.

Wow we covered a lot here. Fuck biopics. 

Lincoln Riley Self Fellates

Am I the only person who saw the video that Lincoln Riley posted on Twitter today? He doesn't physically suck his own dick in the video but he might as well have. It's captioned "QBU" and it's ten minutes long. Who the fuck has time for ten minutes of Lincoln Riley patting himself on the back? This is a real quote from the video, "The answer to the question here is Lincoln Riley....he's been unbelievable". There's like a million more like that too but I'm not going to turn this into a quote fest.

A few familiar faces pop by to tell you why Oklahoma and LR are so great. My favorite was Kyler Murray saying "If you wanna win championships and do what you love there's no better place". Umm excuse me? When you say championships you don't mean the National ones right? Last time Oklahoma won one of them, Lincoln Riley was 16. 

Sure they score a lot of points. The video spews out their yardage and points and Heisman rankings. Blah Blah Blah, whatever. What they don't want to talk about is how their last two guys under center were failed SEC projects who couldn't handle big boy defenses. So they ran off to the Big 12. Oh yes, Kyler too. Most people forget he played for A&M and went 2/4 with an interception against Alabama in 2015. Hey Kyler, boo. 

I'm getting too into statistics. The fact of the matter is that it was just a weird fucking video to Tweet out. Thirsty much? I don't care about being humble, it's not that. But at least accomplish something before saying "Hey everyone! Don't forget about how impressive I am!". 0-3 career in Bowl Games. Not so easy once you have to step outside of that bounce house of a conference. Fuck you and that stupid wagon you rode in on. 

P.S. I couldn't make it through the whole video so if it said like "In Loving Memory" or something at the end I legally can't be held accountable. 

Nice Try Sir, But Not My Alma Mater

We alumnus of The University of Alabama like to carry ourselves with class, dignity, and a general attitude of acting like you've been there before. But I'm sure you already knew that. Which is why I am shocked and appalled at the slanderous insinuations that we are hosting dope COVID parties in Tuscaloosa. I mean I never in all my life... 

I'd like to now direct your attention to Dr. Thrasher's Twitter (@thrasherxy). I don't exactly know what his qualifications are but he calls himself a doctor and that's good enough for me. Thrasher went on a 22 Tweet thread completely exonerating The University of Alabama. Don't worry I'm not going to break down each Tweet, that'd be crazy. I'll just sum it up and prove our innocence. 

"The main story everyone is linking to is this ABC News piece, which weirdly has a video of upstate NY but the text is all about Alabama?" 

Well? Case closed. First fucking tweet and everyone looks like big dumb idiots. The video that everyone is yelling at Alabama for actually takes place in upstate NY. Little conspiracy boy Jack Mac couldn't piece that one together while he blogged these parties?

Thrasher goes on to source Wikipedia which is actually legal in Tuscaloosa since it was invented on campus. He talks about confirmation bias, few videos, couple plugs for his new book, yadda yadda yadda. Then another big one. Where's the proof? 

"ABC News doesn't have one reporter who can find even ONE COLLEGE KID who has SEEN or GONE TO these parties? No! Instead they quote a fire chief: 'We did some research. Not only do the doctor's offices confirm it but the state confirmed they also had the same information.'

Well if the fire chief can do 'some research', WHY CAN'T ABC NEWS? ABC can't call the doctors or the state? Can't get on Facebook/Insta/TikTok & find ads of these parties? Can't find ONE KID who went?"

Hallelujah! I mean, get a grip ABC News. Not that I want to get into the habit of quoting Einhorn but that's a very entertaining story, but unfortunately real detectives have to worry about that little thing called ev-id-ence. There were dozens of bros on video bragging to the news about partying during the pandemic on spring break. You mean to tell me you couldn't find one person to go on the record for these COVIDarties? Damn, that's a good name. 

Here's the thing, somebody is trying to frame us to get college football canceled. Nobody wants to get on that field more than us. Nobody wants to keep us off that field more than you. We have a National Championship to win. Take your hearsay and poppycock somewhere else. Now and forever, Roll Tide.

In the event that these parties were actually happening at Auburn, this whole blog is null and void. 

Delivery Over Outside Dining

If there's anything I hate more than not being able to eat out at a restaurant, it's eating outside. I'm a human furnace. Sweating into my fajita skillet in a Friday's parking lot is neither sanitary nor appetizing. I hate eating outside and it is my strong belief that most people fake-enjoy their meals in the heat.  

I promised my father that I'd take him out to eat some time after Father's Day, a gift I made up on the fly with no card. We went to this local BBQ joint, Texas Roadhouse, to fulfill my obligation. It's probably important to mention that my Dad is the mayor of the whole state of New Jersey. Just on the way to our table, he stopped to talk to three different tables while they were eating because he doesn't comprehend social cues. Neither did the multiple families who stopped at our table during our meal. Listening to every Dick and Jane being like "Huuahh right, how fricken great does it feel to get out of the house?!". Get the fuck away from me and let me try to enjoy this Awesome Blossom. Which by the way, is not so awesome when you're simultaneously combating back sweat shirt. I could hardly take my shirt off to relieve the situation. Everyone would have lost their appetite, including myself. 

What's so bad about eating home anyway? There's no awkward empty air, no need to feel like have to appease anyone. It's just you, your food, your tv and the 1970s dinner tray that you stole from your grandparent's house. Oh and air conditioning. Your only objectives are enjoying your dinner and entertaining yourself. How does it get better than that? Well, strip club buffets I guess, but that's a double no-no right now.

I heard that Adam Silver said the NBA restart is in jeopardy barring a second wave. We need to take every precaution to secure the sports resurrection. Just spitballing here, but if were trying to budget our human interactions, my vote is to cut outdoor dining and return to strictly takeout.     

Wtf Is Going On At Netflix?

Netflix needs to chill. I don't know who's running things over there, but I'd like to ask them if they've lost their mind. I saw this movie "Love" in my recommended queue and noticed the little Top 10 picture in the corner, so I clicked on it to read the description. During my research the movie started to play in the background and just porn. Straight up porn. 

The movie starts off with a woman's back laid across a man's chest. They're both naked. She's jerking the dude off, he's fingering her. Not like, ya know, it's implied under the blanket or something, you see everything. Dick and vagina on my screen. No lie, it's the first three minutes of the movie. Check for yourself if you don't believe me. When the scene cut I was half expecting the girl to ask the guy if that was enough to cover the cost of her pizza delivery. 

This isn't the first offense for Netflix either. "365", also in the Netflix Top 10, is about a mafia boss who kidnaps a woman and has sex with her for a whole year until she falls in love with him. That's rape, this is what rape is. I admittedly haven't watched the movie but I have seen that clip on Twitter where he grabs the girl naked in the shower by the back of the neck and kisses her aggressively. If I did that I'd end up with a nosebleed, a restraining order, and probably jail time. I mean, have you ever even heard of Stockholm Syndrome? 

So why the sudden shift? Is it because they feel threatened by HBO Max? Because let's be honest, there's a whole generation of men out there that believe anything that ends in "max" means porn. Like Cinemax, need I say more? I like to imagine the higher ups in Netflix hearing the announcement of HBO's new service and saying "Fuck it, just start streaming porn." 

I just can't get over that they threw that in my face. 91% match. Ninety-fucking-one, who's doing this math? Here's my last seven things watched on Netflix: Dark, Nate Bargatze's Tennessee Kid, Bill Burr's You People Are All The Same, Avatar The Last Airbender, Daniel Sloss' Live Shows, and James Acaster's Repertoire. What the fuck about that screams 91% match. Who read that lineup and said "Make sure he watches his porn with us tonight"?

Look, I'm no prude. I'm an adult, I see naked people on a screen all the time. I'm not saying that I'm outraged and want this to be removed. But Netflix has no problem asking me "Are you still watching this?" all the time. All I'm saying is, if you're going to throw finger banging and hand jibbers on my screen, maybe preface it with a "Is your door locked?" prompt.  

From The Nosebleeds

My head has been in a weird place lately. I beat The Last Of Us II and finished watching Dark on Netflix all within the same week. It's taken a toll on my overall mood, so it's time to get back to normal. Nothing in my life is more normal, more constant, than nosebleeds. 

I'd say that I average about five nosebleeds a week. It's been that way since I was around seven years old. My Dad used to tell me it was because I picked my nose too much. While I'm sure that didn't help, I'm pretty sure I just came with a defective nose. As a grown adult my nose shouldn't still bleed this much. I've heard everything from a suspected cocaine addiction to "Maybe instead of your vagina, God put your period in your nose". I could write a Dr. Seuss book on all the places I've had a nosebleed. 

My nose has bled in a boat, while driving, while sleeping, while it was my turn to read out loud to my sixth grade class onto my textbook, during a school basketball game, during a funeral, once while surfing deep out in the ocean in Hawaii, in a bar, and mid-coitus.

My one buddy has never had a nosebleed. I even watched him break his nose once and not a drop. It's like a superpower. I have a theory that this kid hates attention so much that his blood just sucked itself back inside his brain. I on the other hand love attention, which is probably why I was dealt this kryptonite. I've been working hard to go unnoticed with my bloody noses during the virus. When people see me with a red stained clump of tissues to my nose, they look at me like I've brought the plague in the building. 

I'm just trying to spread awareness for those of us with chronic nosebleeds. I'm aware that I could have my nostrils cauterized to soften the blow. But I heard a rumor that the operation could possibly change your tastebuds. That is a price I'm not willing to pay. So I'll keep fighting the good fight with a fistful of tissues, and a nasal cavity full of coagulated blood. 

A Cancel For A Cancel Leaves The Whole World Canceled

I tweaked Gandhi's words a bit for my title which seems fitting. One of the most peaceful protestors in humanity's history, who fought for independence, women's equality, religious tolerance, and poverty as a Human Rights issue, should by all accounts be canceled today. Did you know that a 77 year old Gandhi used to sleep naked with his 18 year old niece for "purity's sake"?

Why does Gandhi so often get a pass? Is it because he was born in the 1800s? Or that he was married away by his family at the age of 13? Do his good deeds outweigh his sexual exploitations? Why does piggy Gandhi get a pass for real life actions while others are being canceled over jokes that they Tweeted years ago? It's a rapid change in social norms and a slow burn in accepting other's growth.

We now live in an instant world where we can view and debate issues even while they're still happening. We've become accustomed to immediate outrage and thus impatient with gradual growth. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing either, some things are blatantly immoral and warrant an expedited response. Which is why I can't understand how people can chant "We want change now!" and then say "We don't believe you've changed!" after digging up a four year old Tweet or video.

Jokes to me are sacred. I understand that may not be the opinion of others, but for me they help relieve the harsh realities of the world in the comfort of humor. Some people find that comfort in religion, my refuge is in comedy. To me, jokes have a way of reflecting ugliness in a light that takes the sting out of an issue. If you can laugh at something, then you can change it.

Suppressing jokes is suppressing expression is suppressing change. The best jokes are fueled by the attitudes and feelings of that point in time. If our attitudes and feelings now have a shelf life of a couple years, then yes, a lot of jokes won't age well. That doesn't make the creator a bad person, it just makes them human. Capable of development.

With everyone constantly displaying how good of a person they are on social media, we're quick to point out other's imperfections for our own scorekeeping. But we've seen it time and time again where the canceler becomes the canceled. And round and round we go.

I hope we accept that people are adjusting to being better. I hope we give them time to do so. I hope that we recognize jokes for what they are, a human attempt to make someone else laugh.

I'm sorry for my serious tone. To better explain how I feel, here's a Patrice O'Neal clip on canceling jokes to play us out....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjIuPSuYSOY

Yes I'm Aware Of My Farmer's Tan Stop Asking Me About It

I thought about using a different picture because this graphic is hitting a little too close to home. Fuck, this is exactly what I look like. My forearms look like the big guy from Moana, everything under the shirt looks like the ghost of winter's past. The contrast is staggering. Worst part is, I just bought these big-boy tees that make me look kinda jacked but they choke up on the biceps a bit and expose my borderline see through complexion. The amount of "Have you seen your farmer's tan?"'s that I've got is getting out of control. 

Of course I know what my tan looks like, that's why I keep pulling my sleeves down. What do you think I do, close my eyes when I go into the shower? Don't answer that. No one is more cognizant of the ridiculous looking farmer's tan than the person wearing it. "Well how did you get it?", fucking being at work like literally every single person ever who's had this tan. 

"Why don't you fix it?", this is the worst part of acknowledging the tan. We both know why I don't balance it out so stop asking it like a dick. It's because I'm fat. Do I look like I grill with my shirt off? Of course not. Day 1 of biggon school, play your strengths. 

If you ever feel the need to interrogate somebody who has a farmer's tan, here are the forever answers you're looking for. Yes I know what my skin looks like at the moment, I most likely got the tan from work, and it still looks like that because I'm overweight. Print out this cheat sheet and keep it in your wallet. Also I'm rebranding "farmer's tan" to Brawny Tawny. No further questions at this point.  

Apocalypse Prep: The Last Of Us II

A few years back I bought a PS4 strictly to play MLB The Show. To be honest it wasn't worth it and it started to bother me. So I started playing a select few one-player games to justify my purchase. Spiderman and God of War were both dope. Far Cry, meh. But my favorite game was the remastered version of The Last Of Us, a 2013 zombie game. Normally I'm not a big zombie guy, but this game was so well done that it feels like you're playing a movie. Seven longs years later, the sequel has dropped. 

A non spoiler description in one sentence. A revenge game set in a post-apocalyptic zombie America. Now I'm no video game savant, so if you're looking for an in depth review on logistics and gameplay you've come to the wrong place. What I will tell you is that this game is just as aesthetically pleasing and the storyline just as engaging as the first one. And probably more gruesome, which is saying something. Sure, Zombies are a crucial part of the game, but it's the interactions with humans that'll fuck you up. 

Let's get to the negatives, or negative I should say. I only have one problem with the game. The main protagonist in the sequel is Ellie, who was like 12 in the original. You save her little life in the first game. It's revealed that Ellie is immune and is the only reported person of her kind. Creating a cure from her blood would kill her. Whoops, spoilers*. She's all grown up now and you have to play through her sexual relationship. Now I'm a grown up, I know I had no real attachment to that little girl and that she's not even a real person, but I found myself bit uncomfortable. Put it this way, D'Elia would've loved it.   

Other than that, it's a really good game. I get sad thinking about how I'm going to beat it soon and not be able to play anymore. If you like scary movies, it's pretty spooky. I've had nine mini heart attacks from zombie ambushes. Definitely not recommended for a guy of my stature and blood pressure, but I persevere for Ellie's sake.  

I'm not rooting for the end of the world, but this game is certainly preparing me for it. My trust in humanity is at an all time low, which is exactly where it needs to be if we're heading towards Armageddon. Today while I was playing, I had to venture off with a one armed 14 year old and when she couldn't climb something I screamed at my TV, "You're going to be a FUCKING liability aren't you?!". I think that means I have what it takes for survival. 

Well that's my review. I guess you can call it a review, I've never reviewed anything before. Pretty weird to review something you haven't even finished yet. I've done this all wrong. Just play the fucking game, you won't regret it. Remember how I said it's like playing a movie? HBO picked it up to make it a show. Yes you can just wait to watch the show if you want, but it's more fun to be that snob that goes "Well in the game they did it this way...". 

Bau Out

I'm over Trevor Bauer. For the record, this had nothing to do with the argument he had with Aubrey Huff today. I was planning on writing this blog before their little squabble. Bauer likes to act like he's this morally superior superhuman because he knows big words and flies a drone. It was cool at first to see a player to act like themselves and not feel the need to hide their personality over fear of organizational backlash. Once that wore off though, I found his personality annoying. 

Like this Twitter beef today. Aubrey Huff is a moron, he needs to be punched in the face. Everybody knows that. All Bauer had to say was "Shut up Aubrey you idiot", and he would have won in a landslide. But Trevor just can't shake that Messiah complex of his. He tried using logic to fend off Aubrey Huff like a dumbass. You can't expect facts to win an argument against someone who calls you a sugar-titted cuck with low T and no rings who jerks off to analytics. Congratulations, now you lost sugar tits. Also for the record, Hubbs blogged this argument today and had little blurbs about how funny Huff's jabs were and then said Bauer won the fight which doesn't make any sense. Lot of things on the record today. 

Where Bauer lost me was the nonstop ranting about owners and the state of baseball. To be honest he wasn't necessarily wrong, but he just kept saying the same thing over and over again. Which would have been fine if it brought about change, but it didn't. And he still hasn't shut up. Trevor's just whining at this point. 

I just feel like every baseball fan feels this obligation to like Trevor Bauer. Well I don't. Fuck him. I know Trevor Bauer doesn't give a shit about what I have to say but I'd like him to know that the feeling is mutual at this point.   

Sleeping With The Enemy

I haven't been able to sleep for shit as of late. I miss sleep. I love sleep, I don't even drink coffee because I enjoy being tired. I normally take comfort in blaming my troubles on others, but with sleep, who do you have to blame but yourself? It's my brain's fault. 

It's crazy, you never expect your own brain to turn on you. I certainly didn't see it coming. I assume that the human mind is supposed to appreciate sleep, in truth I do it for him. I do everything with my brain. Tell him secrets, read him books, do puzzles sometimes, like what more can it ask for? I even try taking matters into my own hands if you catch my drift, never works. 3:30-4:00am every night. This is the thanks I get. 

I was woken up this morning at 7:30 from a fucking hammer in my kitchen. I went to bed somewhere around 4:00am. I double-timed down the stairs half expecting a fight and saw a man I've never seen before. He was installing a new back door to my house. Sometimes you know before someone even speaks that they smoke a lot of cigarettes, that's what this guy looked like. He said "Oh! You must be little TKJ, your dad just went out for coffee. If you text him now he might still be able to get you one. By the way, happy belated birthday". I don't drink coffee and my birthday was two months ago, who does this? But I said fuck it, let him murder us, maybe then I can finally get some sleep. I went back upstairs and couldn't fall back asleep. 

On my 3.5 hours of rest, I thought I'd snooze like a baby tonight. I don't even see sleepiness on the horizon. 

I have a theory about sleep. I'm tired all day. When I yawn in the middle of a conversation, it's not that I'm being rude. It's just when you're day tired, it's because you're normally at work. Which is normally not fun. When I'm home by myself, I'm a lot of fun. So if you're sleep deprived, that means you're literally too much fun to be unconscious.   

Welcome To Scottish Twitter

We're all aware that there is different types of Twitter. Black twitter has been king for quite some time and they're on an absolute heater right now with this Beethoven thing. White Twitter is lame, my Spanish stinks so Latino Twitter is out, and Asian Twitter is just K-Pop and I really don't understand what that is. My people, the Scottish, are making a push for the Twitter crown. Before you say it, yes, it is different from White Twitter because it just is. 

Full disclosure my mom was born in Scotland so I may be biased on the humor. Due to my heritage, I'm fully fluent in Scottish. By fluent I mean I can understand them when they speak English WITHOUT subtitles. That, and I can decipher their butchering of the language in written form. For example:

Translation: "Just seen a woman yelling at her child to put his pants on then pointed to me and said 'look that man is going to steal your penis' What the fuck no I'm not."

Or their killer insults.

Translation: "My mom yelled at us for 'using to much toilet paper' well I'll just leave my ass caked in shit to save you an extra $1.87 you fucking weapon." 

Who even thinks of calling someone a weapon? If you're like me and can easily convince yourself of your superior intelligence by interpreting these Tweets on your own, then here's a couple of favorites to try out. 

This was an introduction course. The videos are probably even funnier, but most of them don't have subtitles. So practice your Scottish Tweets and next time we'll try videos. 

RIP Ding Dong Ditch

I saw this picture making it's rounds on Twitter and like what the fuck. I mean, if you called this "Knick Knock" or "Knock Door Run" then go take a shit in your hand. It's Ding Dong Ditch you imbeciles. While reminiscing of cool summer nights of causing havoc on my block I made a depressing realization. DDD isn't just over for my friends and I, but also for generations to come. Death by that damned Ring Doorbell. 

If you were rascals like my gang was, you know that DDD is played by aggressively ringing someone's doorbell and running like hell so you don't get caught. If you didn't know how to play, I don't know maybe you're Mormon or something. The rush of running through random people's front yards, while looking back to see if that door you just harassed is opening, was the closest we got to being high without doing anything illegal yet. But after we conquered our neighborhood, we might've taken things too far. 

Doorbells simply weren't satisfying our fix anymore. During a flee, my one friend threw another friend into a garage and that's how we accidentally discovered how loud they were. We were banging on garage doors for weeks until people started reporting the sound of gunshots. When the cops came and asked us if we had heard anything, we quit garages cold turkey. 

But then, Benchwarmers came out. In the movie, they were playing Ding Dong Ditch and hid in the bushes near the front porch. High stakes. I've always been big-boned, so I was the kid who waited at the sidewalk to get a head start. I hid in someone's bushes once. Scariest moment of my life. I rang and tried my damnedest to camouflage myself in the shrubbery. When the old man came out, I could hear the hate in his breathing. I buried my face in the wet mulch. He screamed something, but I couldn't hear him over the voice in my head. I thought I was dead. I laid there for twenty minutes after he went inside to play it safe. Then I ran the fastest I've ever ran to this day. 

Yes, we also did the Billy Madison shit bag. We got caught by the cops our first go around and never did it again. 

I miss getting in menial trouble. Getting in trouble is scary now. But when you were a kid, pushing that envelope was a hobby. No more, not with everyone recording their doorsteps. Ugh could you imagine the Facebook post to the community page if they caught kids playing this today? They'd treat them as terrorists. It's fucked up really, we're robbing these kids. If you get Ding Dong Ditched, don't narc them out. Play along, be a kid, chase after them knowing you don't want to catch them. Unless you have a sleeping baby or something then fuck them kids. 

I Think I Have To Fight My Neighbor

I got new neighbors about two years ago. They weren't bad for the most part. Drank a little late in the summertime with the music bumping, but that didn't bother me. Even considered joining them, but they kept to themselves for the most part so I let them be. They were cool enough. Enter my neighbor's 35 year old step son. 

This guy is the epitome of a douche, he just moved in a few months back. He revs his shitty corvette and flies around the cul-de-sac with kids playing in the street. He washes his car shirtless like three times a week. Everyone hates him. As much as he loves his car, his absolute favorite thing in the whole entire world is fireworks. As an adult, I hate fireworks. It drives my dogs crazy. 

My Pit Bull can take it, but every time someone starts lighting off I think my 12 year old Lab is going to die. He pants himself into this doggy panic attack thing to the point where he can barely breath. If this guy kills my dog... I'm not even going to finish the sentence. 

I've had other neighbors set off fireworks. Fourth of July, Memorial Day, occasional graduation party, whatever. I've never complained, never called the cops. But this jackass has no rhyme or reason to setting off fireworks. I mean, he did them tonight on a random Wednesday in June. I can see into his backyard, they aren't even having a party. I think he's setting them off by himself. This guy might just be looking for confrontation, I'm more than willing to deliver. 

My first attempt at deescalation is going to try and explain things to him. Tell this ManChild that other neighbors have expressed their displeasure at his random illegal fireworks. Oh yes sir, they are illegal, no aerial fireworks are permitted in the state of New Jersey. In fact, there was just a big fire yesterday one town over from an illegal firework. I'll even appeal to him as a dog owner and explain the situation with my pups. If he does not heed my warning, game on. 

My second attempt will not be pleasant. If he sees me coming again, he'll be ready. Probably take his phone out and try to make me go viral for being the guy who complains about fireworks. I'm not going to let that happen. I'm just going to run in and fight him. No explanation, he knows what he did. He has nothing to fight for, he just moved back in with his parents. I'm fighting for my dog's life, I won't lose. I hope it doesn't come to this. But bonus points if I bounce his head off the corvette. 

I Couldn't Agree Less With This Viral Tweet

Should I have said "Couldn't Disagree More" in the title? Doesn't matter now, this tweet is very mean. My level of criticism has nothing to do with cup size. I think we need to be more encouraging as a society. Keep going Humble Girl, you're doing great. 

I listened to the performance many times, to get a good feel for the acoustics of course. I actually think people are being too harsh on account of her big boobs. Twitter has a way of leveling things out. Maybe people are overcompensating with insults to offset the amount of compliments Humble Girl is used to receiving. I'm just going to say it, she's not a bad singer. 

I don't think she can make a career out it, but she is probably in her local choir. And they don't just let anybody in those things, trust me I've tried. Humble Girl has an impressive range of notes. I think she just needs a few pointers. Like just because you can hit different notes doesn't mean you have to change pitch every other line. So she's not an entertainer, big whoop. 

All in all, C+ car recital. She definitely butchered the song but it wasn't because of her voice. It was her over confidence and lack of self awareness that did her in. Oh and she needs to fix the whole "Gase Eyes" thing she has going on. Definitely some potential if she posts new videos with better songs choices. So everyone ease up on Humble Girl, she's giving it her chest, I mean best. 

I Gained A Year Of My Life Back

I've been going by the wrong age for about a month now. I even put it in a blog how I was 28. I'm not 28. Pretty concerning knowing that Alzheimer's tends to be hereditary. Looks like Grandpa might have handed down more than his hairline. I found out over the weekend that I'm actually 27 while at my friends birthday party. Here's how the conversation went. 

"Damn, 29 huh. One year away from the big three oh."

"I'm 28 idiot. I'm only one year older than you."

"Exactly, I'm 28 so you're 29."

"You're 27 moron."

"Oh."

I'm excited for 27. I think 27 is still mid twenties, where a week ago I was in my late twenties. So I feel young again. A lot younger than my brief stint of being 28. Only problem is now I've opened myself up to join the 27 club. 

Joplin, Hendrix, Cobain, Morrison, Winehouse. TKJ? Seems like it fits. The more I think about it my health has started a shockingly rapid decline since my last birthday. Sometimes I wake up gasping for breath like an invisible hand had been blocking my airways. Was my sudden wake the result of catching God redhanded trying to rob humanity of another great? Could be. That or its the overwhelming amount of take-out I order while being a borderline alcoholic with a bad smoking habit. Either way, head on a swivel.