A ‘Dear Justin’ Letter : On behalf of the World.

Dear Justin,

Hey man.

Yeah yeah, I know I know. I’m great. Stahhp it.

But listen, I wanted to reach out because I feel like you need some support. It seems like you have hit that awkward teen stage in life where you lose all sense of your pre-pubescent roots, and now your grasping for friendly hands as you drown in your own errors.

Like many teen starlets who started out at a young age, you’re traveling down a very dangerous road and the world is watching as you’re on your way to becoming yesterday’s garbage-y news.

I need you to understand, you’re not the same person you used to be, and I’m not sure what happened between you and Usher but first thing is first, you gotta get that man back in your corner.

That Scooter guy you have walking around with you is clearly not doing his job. Look, do you remember when you first started out?

You had so much promise. You had your very indelible vocal abilities and your hair was everything girls wanted atop their boyfriends head when they met up with them after first period in senior hallway.

You were young, blossoming and about to embark on the world of fame, but you got thrust into it way to hard. Touring must be difficult for such an attractive guy, and I feel you on that front, what with the bags under your eyes and then trying to maintain such juvenile and boyish looks.

We are basically in the same boat there buddy.

Take a look at your earlier work though…

In ‘Bigger’ on your debut album, you spoke about how the haterz look small to you because you are bigger than they are, and your love was bigger than them.

Your maturity was flourishing. It was almost like an adult had written that song and you performed it…

…which we know isn’t the case since the music industry is filled with people who write their own music and don’t sell out to larger record labels to only put out glittery shit-storms of poppy goodness.

I mean you had lyrical genius back then! Remember ‘One Time’? It’s probably been a while since you sang it live but you showed off your basic math skills to us repeating ‘you plus me’ over and over…

To tell a girl that her world is your world, and that your heart is her heart?! That’s some shit people usually save for marriage.

Biebs, even I don’t have that lesson figured out.

Then you dropped some gems like ‘One Less Lonely Girl’ which assisted in building, and populating your fan base. Honestly if having young girls following you around and exploiting the fact that they all believe every word you speak is meant for them is wrong, then I wouldn’t want to be right.

Even ‘Baby’, oh dear god, I think even I looked at you with a glimmer in my eye.

It was a masterpiece, and your dance skills finally came to the surface in the magic video. You even got Luda on the track!

LUDA!

And lest we forget Selena!

You landed the most age appropriate and gorgeous teen star that hadn’t become a meth-addicted cat lady yet. Have you SEEN her lately!? She is fine as hell! And you gave that up?!

She could have like, anyone in the universe, and you took a pass on it after a year or so of dating?!

She’s doing great for herself too! ‘Come and Get it’ was like a summer anthem for me thanks to an overly obsessed ex that insisted it was the only thing we listened to while we were making out.

Do you know who the world has seen you running around with since the break up?!

Jaden Smith.

Not even the cool one, Willow!

He told kids they should drop out of school Justin! What kind of example is that to set when a revolution is in your hands? (Side note: if y’all are still close, give him a swift kick in the nuts for the travesty that was the ‘Karate Kid’ remake)

Look something went terribly wrong man, and I know what happened.

You cut your fucking hair.

No but really, hear me out!

That was all it took, and then you began your spiral. From my point of view, here is what I saw happen:

You started REALLY young and you were good at what you did, and then puberty hit, you styled your hair differently and you gained the classic child star confidence that my exes all seem to gain after they leave me.

Nothing phases you and you’re out to prove to the world that you’re the best there is.

Your balls dropped and there was a legitimate crisis in the universe about whether or not you were going to be able to pull things off with a deeper voice. And you did! But then you got some tats.

Justin, tattoos are in fact cool, and they should be really meaningful too. But like, look at some of the things you’ve permanently put on your body…

What do they mean Justin? And why would you get a king jerking off in front of a castle? That doesn’t even make sense…

Then you started becoming this angry ball of fire that I just didn’t know anymore. Do you remember the time you threatened the paparazzi in your car?

You used the f-word.

I lost some respect for you that day man.

And from what I gather so did Selena, because before we knew it the two of you had separated and she was back on the market. I’m sorry I sent her so many letters pleading with her to love me and telling her I would treat her right, I just got caught up in the moment.

We’re still cool right?

Then you stopped wearing the purple and black combo, the largest error in my opinion. You switched to wearing all these really dumb ridiculous clothes that don’t even make sense to look at.

Sometimes you just didn’t wear clothes.

Then your new album drops and it is just filled with poop Justin. Your voice is so good and you are doing songs with Nicki Minaj?! That’s like Justin Timberlake doing a duet with Taylor Swift.

It’s poop Justin. You have to utilize your powerful voice again, you can’t just go around singing about heartbreak from a relationship you yourself ended.

And you tried to come up with a catch phrase but it didn’t even pan out for you! WTF is ‘Swaggy’ Justin?!

Lil Jon had ‘Yeah’ and ‘Okay’.

DMX just used to growl and bark at his listeners.

…but even so they both worked out for them.

‘Swaggy’ sounds like a combination of sweaty and saggy and neither of those are words people want to think about when listening to your performances.

Try harder Justin.

Then you started getting in trouble with the law and all hell broke loose. You were speeding around residential neighborhoods, putting children’s lives at risk, and pissing off your neighbors.

Justin do you know how to be a neighbor? I live next to a sassy elderly woman who gives me vegetables from her garden to make soup. The other side is a house filled with teenage drug dealers, but they leave me alone and only contact me to notify me that there is a chicken loose in my back yard and they are dispatching search and rescue teams.

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They’re not jerks though. They’re nice people. It’s something you need to work on.

But recently you’ve become a monster. DUI? Drugs?

Your drinking the syzzurp Justin?

Do you know who drinks the syzzurp Justin…?

…Lil’ Wayne…

Do you know who takes him seriously Justin?

Nobody.

Nobody takes Lil’ Wayne seriously.

Everything you’re doing is super negligent and irresponsible. I even read that you called a young fan a ‘beached whale’. Have you seen ‘Blackfish’?! Whales have enough problems to deal with, without having to worry about you using their name to cut a young girl down and make her feel like garbage.

You’ve become hardened Justin, and today I read that you were arrested in Toronto for an assault on a limo driver.

What did he do Justin?

Did he make a wrong turn?
Did you arrive late to an event you were going to bitch about being noticed at anyway?
Did he not chill the bottle of Crystal you aren’t even legally able to drink yet?

…did he call you out on your bullshit?

I’m not a hater JB, but right now you need some tough love.

What you need is a game plan to get back to where you were a few years ago. Here’s what I’ve come up with for you:

1. Deal with all your legal hooplah. It shouldn’t be a long or hard process, you have a lot of money, and your pretty face wouldn’t last a night in jail without getting passed around more than a football in an NFL game. No judge is going to put that tight little…

… complexion of yours in danger.

2. Let your hair grow out a little. Like, a medium length. Or shave it. You need to find out who your true friends are, and there is no better way to learn that than by fucking with one of the main reasons your famous.

3. Stop putting out songs with terrible artists.

(Not you BIG SEAN, ‘Dance A$$’ is an anthem for me)

Sean Kingston? Eenie-Meenie-Miney-Mo-Lover? Really?

Also, I’m not sure what you were thinking, but I’m pretty sure I speak for the rest of the world when I point out that collaborating on a song with Chris Brown about love and what a woman means to you kind of speaks for itself nowadays…

From now on do it on your own or only pick from this list:

Trey Songz
Ne-Yo
Ariana Grande
Jordin Sparks
Willie Nelson
Maroon 5
Outkast
Britney Spears

Remember, you want to stay relevant. I know it’s in the works but really, cancel your collab with Limp Bizkit.

Classy. As. Fuck.

4. Dress like a good person. You wanna know who is relevant in the minds located in women’s pants?

Understand?

5. Stop breaking the law.

Don’t drive like an asshole, we have enough non celebrity humans in the world to do that. Obey traffic laws, and don’t be a shit head behind the wheel.

Drugs are dumb, but weed will be legal in like two years anyway prob so can’t you just wait instead of going on blunt cruises and bong-rip road-trips?

Stop spitting on, yelling at, insulting or laying hands on…well anyone. It’s not becoming and you look like a super huge douchebag. There are a lot of normal people out here that can handle stardom better than you are so use common sense and stop being so mean all the time dude.

Finally…

6. Stop making movies about your life to stardom. If people want to see you perform they’ll buy a ticket to your show. If they want to see pre-fame Bieber, it’s on YouTube. There are so many other celebrities the world would prefer to know the history of, so pump the breaks and stick to walk on roles in like really terrible parody movies.

That’s what dying talent does nowadays.

Okay? Do you understand Justin?

Please, on behalf of the world, and your fan base alike…

Stop being shitty.

Fondly but realistically, your probably number 678 fan,

Alex

P.S. Start writing your own songs. ‘Beauty an the Beat’ is horse shit and for you to be able to party like it’s 3012, you want to party like you’re dead. Is basic math man.

Also Nicki Minaj is obnoxious. Common sense bud.

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An Open Letter Re: First date with my future wife.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Well I did it!

I have been spending a lot of time on the internet meeting some really cool people through all the dating sites I signed up for. The world is such an interesting place filled with decent human beings absolutely looking for legitimate bonds with others!

Let me lay the scene out for you:

This past friday evening, I was out and about chatting up the local Starbucks barista over what I think was my fourteenth cup of coffee for the day…

…though I can’t really remember because I lost my sense of smell somewhere around cup twelve and got genuinely concerned…but I am now able to see into the near and not too distant future so as far as I am concerned I came out of that predicament on top!

Anyway! I was waiting for a meet up with my small bundle of friends for a birthday dinner when out of nowhere my phone was uncontrollably spasming in my pocket. I was in the middle of a really uplifting Alicia Keyes ballad in the corner of the store when it went off…

…and caused the melody to cease and buffer.

Needless to say it took every ounce of strength in me to not smash the phone for leaving me high and dry on the high note when it cut the song off. It’s really hard to stay on pitch when the generic alert sounds of the iPhone go off.

Well even though I stopped seeing colors at cup of coffee number 7, I was able to make out what popped up as a message from OkCupid.

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Guys…someone wanted to meet me!

It was really inspiring, they basically told me flat out that we were going to be dating for a really long time, which by not having even met me, I knew was a good sign. The discussion progressed as follows…give or take:

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I knew that because this was my first attempt at true love with a human being, I had to knock it out of the park:

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Nailed it!

She pressed on with some interesting details about herself:

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She seemed really normal and said some really flattering things about the way I texted to me as well…and it was clear I was irresistable:

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And after that…I responded with the only logical question I could:

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Perfect.

We talked a bit more before I headed out and she made sure to touch base on all the important questions still left to ask…

  • What is your bank account number?
  • What is your Social Security ID?
  • What is your Mother’s maiden name?
  • Could you direct me to the spare key hidden behind the fourth bush from the left in your back yard, just off to the right beyond the back patio?

…all of which I answered eagerly as I knew this was going to work out and it just made sense to cut to the chase!

Anyway this female…

…what was her name again…

…whatever, thats just an extraneous detail, I’ll make sure I find out again on our second date…but for now I’ll call her Selena Gomez…

…well she basically told me I was everything she was looking for in a man. I was initially confused because I am pretty sure my profile reads like that ‘Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day’ book you used to read me as a kid.

Speaking of which…good choice reading me a book that was about how miserable life is for a kid that had the same name as me…I feel like it was really influential in the man I grew up to be. We couldn’t have gone with something uplifting like ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ or ‘Green Eggs and Ham’, because then I probably would have had a much brighter outlook on life, and THEN where would we be?!

Well we basically made out via text message for about a half hour as my caffienated fingers typed every word that popped into my head before I had time to think how terribly they may come across to a complete stranger.

My flirtation skills were so smooth there is a chance she may be pregnant from the conversation we had, I am like 80% sure she isn’t, but it’s okay if she is because I am absolutely prepared for that responsibility in life and by the time I need to take a kid anywhere I should be able to drive again!

Well she asked me what I was doing with the rest of my weekend eventually and I told her verbatim:

“I have standing plans from monday to order a large cheese pizza, throw on a pair of footie pajamas and make my way through the entire first season of ‘Keeping up with the Kardashians’ on Netflix.”

She told me immediately to cancel and we firmed up plans to meet up in the real life.

IN THE REAL LIFE MOM AND DAD!

Well I knew that my relationship with Netflix was solid enough to reschedule for a later date, so I took her up on it.

Netflix always understands.

I knew this was a big moment for me and that I had to absolutely pick something perfect for a first date.

Well I answered her back and I made it as convenient as possible and I think I knocked it out of the park.

“What are you doing at 7 A.M. tomorrow?!”

BOOM!

Of course no one would have anything planned that early on a saturday so it would be perfect and I was certain she wouldn’t have any plans already!

I told her to meet me at the one place I knew I couldn’t go wrong.

Also that it was within walking distance…

The Wolf Rd. Diner.

I know. I know. How am I still single right?

Well, I went to the birthday dinner and I just couldn’t get over the excitement of what was coming the next morning! I hardly slept and when I did wake in the morning, I rubbed the Prada Bags under my eyes, threw some hairspray in my untamed and refined glob of hair atop my head, and embraced my puffiest winter gear to brave the sub zero temperatures.

The sun wasn’t even up so I knew we were off to a good start…she was really going to value the fact that I made plans early enough for her to still have the rest of the day to dwell fondly over how awesome the date went!

I got there forty minutes early and had plenty of time to drink three cups of coffee while I prepared for meeting my future wife.

I pulled out my composition notebook that I had been documenting all of my tips and tricks I learned while watching rom-coms and Ryan Gosling films for research, and I buckled down on my memorization skills. I perfected all the lines I was going to use:

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

“It’s always been you.”

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy asking him to love her.”

Then she walked in!

Mom…Dad…we are going to make you beautiful grandkids…

In fact, despite my studying tactics, that was the line I lead off with when I met her. She seemed really happy…her eyes got really wide and she started looking around to make sure everyone else had heard how romantic I was being…

She asked me how often I meet up with people from the internet after we sat down, and I kindly explained that whole time I jetted off to Mexico with what turned out to be a drug kingpin and his wife. That was the last time that I agreed to ever get involved in a devil’s three-way without genuinely making sure there was no ulterior motive after they tied me up in the rented motel room we agreed to meet up in.

She had pancakes and I made sure to order something light, so I got bacon strips tossed with a lot of onions, because they are mostly water or something…I dunno, I read it on the internet somewhere. I could tell she regretted her decision the minute the food came because she had to plug her nose to keep from ingesting the fumes from my meal…

…it was evident she couldn’t smell it or she was going to need to call the waitress back to change her order to what I got.

Well anyway we talked about many topics over the course of the twenty minute date before she had to leave because her uncle’s twice removed cousin was in the hospital for accidently ingesting too much elbow grease…

…which she explained is toxic if swallowed.

Long story short, she was feeling the date so much that she was on her phone the entire time, telling all of her friends about how great it was going I assume.

She only asked me if I was sure that I was not gay once, which is really good considering how often they usually ask!

Selena was a little quiet, which is ok because it’s something we can work on…

…come to think of it she didn’t really talk about herself a lot at all, so I talked about me the entire time, and I even made sure to fill in the awkward silences where it looked like she was about to speak, just so she felt appreciated and not at all like I expected her to reach out past her comfort zone.

And don’t worry about the awkward ‘Who is gonna pay” tango at the end. I know how first dates work! The woman always pays because the guy will always be paying for things during the rest of the relationship.

I gave her the ol’ “you got this?” line.

Anyway I killed the date and I told Selena I couldn’t wait to start doing this on a regular basis. She shook my hand…

…taking things slowly…

…and sprinted out the door with excitement and peeled out of the parking lot leaving me feeling great about the experience as a whole.

Well she was speechless, I obviously killed the curve as far as online dating goes because I didn’t hear from her for an entire day even though I was texting her frequently!

But I heard back from her yesterday and it was better than I could have expected:

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She got her days mixed up because that ‘someone’ she met was actually me…she was playing it coy…but you can see how eager she was to get back to me about hanging out again. She even wants to bring her friend into the mix!

I’ll let you know when I pop the question mom and dad.

Love(but not too much because I have to save some for my future wife),

Alex

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Look Mom, I joined Tinder: A Social Experiment.

Dear World,

First and foremost I want you all to know that I never intended for the tattoo I got to cover most of my lower back, I was specific in my description to the artist and he took some liberties with size and shape. I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds, and please don’t listen to any of the haterz that might tell you it is a ‘tramp stamp’.

That implies I’m easy and we all know how selective I am in who I let take advantage of me.

Listen, we all hit that lull in life. I don’t want any of you to feel down about yourselves when you get there. It’s a point when you have crucial decisions to make about life. Its a point where you need to weigh your post degree options for employment. It’s a point when you’re on your own and everyone tells you it’s time to truly discover who you are as a person which is horseshit, they just can’t say sucks you’re single again without sounding abrasive and mightier than thou.

You will eventually get back up on the horse you rode into the world on and you will become the best person you have ever been.

I’m guessing of course…I’m not really in control of the world. You may end up being a blob who lays in front of their HULU plus account all day that slings meth for a living to desperate ladies of the night willing to go above and beyond for that next fix.

Either way, I have read that the key to success is to make life what you want it to be. I believe it was the night janitor of my office building who once said:

“Would you like me to get rid of the garbage?”

And yes. Yes, I genuinely would like the garbage from life removed. Such a wise man to speak such prophetic questions!

But where do I start?!

By meeting new people of course! No, not out at the bars silly! We don’t do that! I’m speaking of course, of the only logical place to meet anyone these days…

…the Internet.

Now pay close attention Mom and Dad, fellow readers, I’m talking about legitimate social sites! I wont be flying cross country or anything to meet someone who has four shared interests with me according to their profile blurb, because that would just be crazy and honestly no matter how much they promise it will be action packed and exactly like that movie ‘Taken’, I am really seeking something low key.

I’m going local, and I’m being smart about it! I won’t go outside a fifteen mile radius, and that’s my final offer here for these new people, and frankly it seems like a good way to limit the plethora of individual I will undoubtedly rope in with my honest to goodness ‘about me’ details.

I signed myself up on three websites to meet people initially because my friend Foo, the Asian one who isn’t really named Foo but absolutely lives up to every single Asian stereotype…

…well he told me they were not useful, full of robots and girls that stand you up at the movies, and quite possibly the biggest waste of time in the universe…and I really thought that it would be a good morale booster based on that description.

Really though, people go about it all wrong. Humanity doesn’t understand the way the masses respond nowadays. They don’t genuinely want to know who you are, or what you’re into when your not helping your cat clean itself at night during a riveting episode of American Idol.

Foo, and world, take note. I have perfected the craft. These are my legitimate profiles:

Tinder:

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Now this site, from what I understand is basically a dating site that comes with the connotation that you want to make the sex with a mutually interested sex maker. Like getting coffee but with your genitalia if you will!

The part that is interesting/unbelievably uncomfortable about this app, aside from possibly getting plugged by a complete stranger, is that you show your mutual sex interest in the most shallow way possible. Here’s how it works:

Step 1: User picture pops up.

Step 2: Judge the absolute and utter fuck out of this probably genuine human being solely on how they look.

Are they unbelievably attractive?

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Absolutely!

Swipe them to the right! You want to bone them. Be proud.

Do they appear as though they may have been hit by a truck/be missing an appendage/actually be a psychotic axe murderer hell bent on revenge because their ex left them for someone much fitter and muscular than you and all you can do is sob about it night after night?

Swipe that shit to the left.

You’re not interested.

They can make the sex without you.

The nice part about this app is that until the other person shows interest in you as well…you’ll never see/hear from them ever again! But if you mutually swipe eachother to the right…it sets you up to start messaging them things about you. Like how ham gives you really bad gas. Or how Michael Jackson may be your illigitamate love father, but you’ll never see a dime of his money because the other four brothers are selfish.

Anyway you’re allowed to type an about me, but it is limited to a certain amount of characters, kind of like using the Twitter, so I knew if I had any chance at convincing anyone to swipe me right, I absolutely had to come across irresistible.

20140123-091026.jpgNailed it.

OkCupid:

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So this site is fun! While it can be used completely for free, the creators want to limit you to minimal interactions with your new cohorts. But for a small fee you can beef up your profile and even find out when and where and how often people are re-reading your bio to gain insight into who you really truly are, and making it easier to meet up/slip something in your drink/make you their living Barbie doll tied up in their basement. It’s like prostitution but amongst new friends if you pay, so I picked the free route. It has absolutely nothing to do with me being a cheap bastard.

First they suggest you pick a really nice user picture, not because society is shallow and stuff and ready to nix you at the drop of a hat because you look like Rita the Elephant Woman or Bobby the King of Facial Acne, but because when people read your deets they’re gonna want a face to go with all those little fun facts about you. I chose that squinty one from above again, because why alter perfection, right?

By the way Mom, how proud are you that you and Dad made the sex and that was the result?

(Oh, I wonder if I should add date of conception to my bio? TBD…)

Awesome! We’re on our way here! Readers, are you paying attention? This is were it becomes crucial!

Filling out your info:

Now we want to be honest and not at all misleading here, yet at the same time, we need to make ourselves look attractive and appealing as fuck using only our words. Here’s my about me:

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Awesome!

The new people that look at us are going to appreciate our honestly and that is what people value most nowadays.

NEXT! We have to talk about things we are good at. Take a moment and reflect on all the things you do in life.

Are you actually good at anything?

Yes?

Put that shit down. And be super specific, people fucking appreciate specificity.

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I don’t want to be boastful, but at this point we should really clear our schedules for the next couple of months because we’re going to have zero free time with all the babes and buddies rolling in now.

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Wait! Stop it!

What the hell was that Alex?! That was TOO honest.

No girl is going to read that list and think to themselves, ‘Man I sure am glad this guy was honest. He seems like straight up husband material, what with the O.C. being his favorite show…snatch him up now!’

Quick! Recover with something clever…maybe even a lie…just make yourself look good before you lose their attention.

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Phew!

That was close. Just stick with that mentality for the rest of these forms.

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Superb job!

Your favorite food is a vegetable which will draw in only people fit and unbelievably in shape like your sculpted self. Also, decent call with the mosh pit portion, nothing says masculine like bumping into sweaty teenage boys just to feel something comparable to your cold soul dying inside that shell you call a body.

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Perfection!

More honesty and a pop culture reference?! Maybe you should open a business writing people’s profiles! It’s amazing you’ve been seeking that special someone instead of already being tied down!

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GUYS!

Are you still paying attention? Do you see what I did there?

I took pity, and passive aggressiveness and mashed them together to create one ass-amount of appeal and reason for everyone to reach out to me.

And finally…make sure you alert everyone of your political standings! But do it subtly!

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That’s right brah…pro choice 4 lyfe.

Plenty of Fish (POF):

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Readers, this one is super useful. You basically just answer a bunch of questions about yourself and fill out a few quick blurbs and it starts matching your personality with people and it lets you know who you’re compatible with. It’s easy and you are going to meet the one you’ve been waiting for your entire life…your perfect life mate.

Let’s get down to business!

Start with a bio. Try to make it a little different from your other ones…but keep a common thread or two in their in case you bump into the same people from other sites! How faux pas!

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Solid choices.

You see? We left a little bit more mystery here, but allowed the reader to pursue more if they deem us socially acceptable and pretty enough to be seen with in public.

Same squinty faced picture.

Stop trying to change me world.

Now the big question. First dates. Woof.
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More specificity, interest in “Girl Power”, honesty. Safe to say we officially got this down. Let’s try not to blow it on the interests section.

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Straight up readers, if you made it this far and proofed that entire list with nothing but head nods and sure utter agreement, then there is nothing more you can learn from me. There is just one thing left to do before you try to ‘lure’ in some potential interests…

The tag line.

Everyone will see this when you view their profiles/stalk them/vote them at a five star rating because they look like they’re in shape but they have really just figured out the perfect shirt to make their man-boobs look like pecks. It’s important to get your point across in this one sentence and make sure everyone knows you are taking this whole thing really seriously. Here’s a few of my personal favorites from people this website tells me I’m a perfect match for:

20140123-145219.jpgI am absolutely in agreement with this.

No wonder we matched up girl.

20140123-145232.jpgWhy at the library? I barely read.

She’ll never buy it girl.

20140123-145242.jpgObviously. Who the fuck doesn’t?

As long as you’re talking about ‘Goodburger’ that is.

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I’m not even sure what this means.

I am genuinely concerned with getting this thing stick though.

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Yo. We haven’t even met yet.

I’m starting to think you might be super needy if you give up that easy.

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I mean…

…like a second head? On one shoulder?

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Legally? No.

Also, you really shouldn’t be doing the whole online dating thing while you drive.

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Online? On a dating site?

I found you?

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Yeah…there is no way you and I could have matched up.

Amateurs.

Don’t worry guys, after all this prodding into my personal life while setting these accounts up, I know exactly what to put to make sure people take a gander:

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So friends, Mom and Dad, and anyone else who just killed fifteen minutes reading this, I’ll make sure I keep you updated with posts about the interesting people I meet. My hopes are high, and I’m in good spirit about this…

…but Foo is probably right. It’s probably not gonna work.

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Remember pizza?

Dear Mom and Dad,

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Remember when I got that second job at a pizza joint to pay off that bookie because I mistakenly put four thousand dollars down on the New York Yankees to clinch a win at Super Bowl XLVII in my first attempts at betting on sport?


(Don’t worry, I’ll be smarter in the game this year…I really think the Bruins are going to tank against the Nuggets)

Well I needed you to know I’m a better person for having gained the experience there.

Fore score and many a pie ago, as you know I began what I will now refer to as an ascent into the luxurious world of pizza making. Take pause on your assumptions other readers, for this was no Dominos, no hut serving pan crust once frozen, no establishment run by some Papa. This was your very classy run of the mill pizza parlor complete with connected bar.

Oh the thrills!
20140115-102339.jpgOh the excitement!

It was a joyous event that fell into my lap because I had applied for a position of delivery man, and three months later sans automobile I was called upon to serve a higher purpose in life to tackle that pesky debt.

Pizza maker.

Now there are a few things I learned working at this unbelievable and incredible establishment, a service of explanation I would be deemed unjust for not explaining to the kind folk of the world, and you…the creators of the wonderful human that is me.

Let us begin and try to follow along, it has even a few months since I have made any dough here (zing, pun intended):

1. When you work in a pizza shop, I mean absolutely work-cook, clean, run, and ring, you develop relationships with everyone you work with as with what I assume are most jobs. You gain bonding experiences without which you would be out of the loop as to who got drunk and hooked up with whatever last night, who stormed off quietly by having a not so delicate conversation with the owner about their illegal activities, and who or what was occurring in the walk in cooler while you weren’t there.

Side note: I heard, but cannot confirm, that butt-cheeks will freeze to metal if held against it long enough.

2. Pizza shop owners are like unicorns. At their best, they ride high like the wind, slaying dough, and slathering the breaded goods of the world in a marinara cheese combo to produce a parm so majestic that it absolutely should have a sparkling horn attached to it.

On the contrasting side, they could have a gnarly cocaine habit and be a fall over drunk that likes to finger-blast the young delivery girls in an attempt to re-live what they refer to as their golden years.

(side note Mom, the current owners-as it transferred hands a bit after I started-are much cleaner and reputably honorable gentlemen, so that’s why I praise the food still. Also, finger blasting is a term I learned working here…I assume it’s when you make a gun out of your hand and yell things like ‘pew pew’ or ‘bang bang’ at people, but I’m not sure…so, sorry for the grey area)

Hark, it smells of oregano and shame in this here establishment!

3. Avoid the foods you know get dropped into a fryilator. I know, I know…give me your tired, your poor, your tenders and fries! We all like them because they’re yummy and frankly because the world is filled with people who like to dip shit in other shit. If you don’t you’re weird and my condolences to your poor palate.

I’ll make this short: in high volume food service, a fryilator should get cleaned once a week because the oil turns black and all the pieces that fall off burn and congeal on the bottom. It takes me thirty five to forty minutes to clean one and I am efficient. Most places have a cook that drains, wipes it down with an already used rag, and refills it. If I’m cleaning, fry whatever you like. If I’m not, odds are ew.

4. Delivery drivers can be dicks to the cooks. Fun fact, they make bank and anyone in the store, unless your manager has the last name Christ and the first name Jesus, doesn’t get to share in the wealth. They pray for your misfortune in financial givings and hope to god you walk out with two bucks a night so they have forty three deliveries.

It’s sad, but life in pizza land tends to often revolve around just the tip.

You can also up your chances for donations with a fun sign on the tip jar. Most people respond well when they’re crafty and clever. This one was my favorite attempt, regardless of success:

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5. Drunks are your best friends. I’m not talking about your social choices, remember we’re talking behind the counter here. But listen, even if Lindsay Lohans twin sister walks in stumbling to avoid the regurgitated bile her best friend has left all over the floor, in your interactions with them, they are both princesses and they look beautiful, because that’s what Princess Cuervo wants to hear, and that’s what makes Princess Cuervo throw tens in your tip jar because they have a 1 on them and you’re super accommodating.

Even if you know that hard work that you put into the pizza is for nothing because it’s going to see a corner in a back alley later when it comes back up, you’ve made those seven-or-eight-deep customers that much happier for the time being.

6. Free food earned for working is great, but feel free to remind yourself you are surrounded by carbs, more carbs, and carbs that probably have their own carbs. You bread, pizza, pasta and crouton yourself into oblivion and before you know it you look like Tony Soprano and you have developed and Italian accent that you slur out between ventilating breaths that cause your newly developed moobs to rise and fall rapidly. It’s just something to stay conscious of while we envy the bastards working at ‘Salad Creations’.

7. Also cheese.

8. Ovens are hot. Self explanatory, yet somehow unavoidable because you forget your hands aren’t oven mitts from time to time and it can be hot when you are sliding it in and out…

…the pizza I mean. C’mon now.

On the bright side, you get to join a unique club where you have the same tattoo as everyone else who has ever worked cook in a pizza shop. It a long branded slice looking scar on the bottom of your forearm.

It’s like being blood brothers with all the people you’ve never wanted to be!

9. It’s great to be a smoker! This sounds like poor advice, but the ratio of breaks between smokers and non-smokers is astounding. You would cringe at the number of times a person is left to fend for themselves while the entire staff steps outside for a cigarette break. Good thing too! I hear it curbs your appetite…not that it’s keeping your hands out of the crouton bin.

10. The key to good food at a quick rate is to not give a shit. If you spend thirteen minutes prepping a chef salad, delicately placing the meats and cheeses wherever you see them beautifully arranged based on that super useful art degree you got at that college place, someone is going to notice, and they’re going to call you out on it every single time, in an exceptionally sardonic tone.

Also, don’t get set in stone. Odds are everyone is going to do things differently, but because you work at a pizza shop, your boss may feel the need to validate his power over the minions by changing shit up whenever he feels you have it down to a science. You learn the proper folding techniques of deli meats for an antipasti salad? Think again Bobby Flay! Now were gonna dice it because the boss had a bad night and is too upset with his self worth to let you win this throw down.

bonus tip: If you mess up a pizza for a customer waiting in-shop, the people working behind the counter are going to get really angry, because it’s rare to make mistakes in a pizza shop. I’ve only done it twice because I’m fairly close to a perfect human being…

…but here’s how I handle it:

-you realize there is an issue and make a loud announcement full of expletives and mumbled incoherent words. Something like, “Goddamn every time stupid fuck fucker you marriage license gumball butt snatch quiddich guzzler!”


-The counter person will realize you have burnt the bottom of the pizza or gotten the cheese stuck to the stone rendering it unsalvagable.


-The counter person will say something to the affect of, “Fucking REALLY Alex?!?” to place all the blame directly on you in the eyes of the customer.

-You will die a little inside.


-You will realize you’re a badass wizard and stare the counter worker directly in the eyes while you wave your hands over the carcass of cheese and char and sarcastically say ‘I got this let me just turn back time quick!’

-Mutter an incantation.


-Give them the finger in a clever manner and say ‘fifteen minutes’

-remake aforementioned pizza

Problem solved.

So you see mom and dad, valuable life lessons. Don’t worry, I’m eating well and the pets still aren’t dead so I guess you can say I’m above par at the moment!

Love,
Your baby boy.

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A Sick Son-of-a-bitch.

I awoke today with this great sense of self-awareness. I was ready to begin with the vigor that most people see in their day-to-day.

Like if you snapped out of your dream from the night and ‘New Slang’ by the Shins faded in to wake you up, and you just kind of looked at life and thought to yourself:

‘This is the day. I’m gonna do all the things today.’

That’s what happened this morning.

Then I barfed at a diner.

It was actually quite interesting.

You see the new year has been really going quite solid for me so far. Nothing unbelievably out of the ordinary or life-altering. I pinned a few more things to my secret wedding board on Pinterest, I started this blog, and I have maintained my day-to-day interactions with the world around me.

 photo tumblr_mggah0Chnk1rlmi42o1_500.gifBut I have been sick for two weeks now.

Not like…’Guys, we need to have a talk’ sick….

…but sick none the less. You see for me being sick isn’t really a thing. I am not a fan of the doctors and I don’t really go as often as I probably should. It is what it is but waiting rooms creep me out. Anyway, I rarely get sick, and when I do I pretend its like not happening and it usually goes away. We’re talking like once in a blue moon, honestly.

But when I do get sick, it is bad. Incapacitating-bad.

Like…”Mom, do everything for me and can you pour that glass of juice down my gullet because I’m too weak to fend for myself here”-bad.

But since New Years I just kind of assumed that I was basically getting all of my yearly illnesses out of my system. Who the hell wants to be sick sporadically throughout the year anyway. Give me all of it at the beginning of the year. Set me up with the Noro Virus, pink-eye, and a chest cold all at once. I will absolutely be that guy that gets over it and spends the rest of the year watching people get super pukey because their immune systems aren’t used to the toxins of the everyday world.

Like maybe get off your Play Stations and see the world!

Don’t you people know you’re supposed to beat the shit out of your body so you get used to the crummy stuff that flies around day in and day out?

As I have gotten older though, I have noticed my regimen for taking care of myself has changed from the beginning, whence I was a baby boy. Back in the golden years my mother and father had one of those nifty measuring spoons you poured the medicine into the handle where it measured the quantity, and then you passed it along to your child who regrettably downed it in hopes that the color of the medicine was going to match the flavor, which it never did.

By my teen years I was fully accepting of trips to the doctor where he would have general conversation regarding my genitalia and how it was changing and then he would prescribe me a Z pack to take care of basically anything my body could have gotten into when I was younger.

But now, as an adult, there is all this expectation that you’re supposed to take care of your body and you’re on your own in doing so. And who the fuck came up with that idea because it sucks.

My doctor is on the opposite side of town and getting there is a pain in the ass so I wait until its at the point that no one is going to want to stand within a five foot diameter of me before I will concede and agree to go sit at an urgent care facility nearby. The doctor will feign his interest in my symptoms and prescribe me something I have never heard of that most likely generally cover a wide array of illnesses.

Well for all that effort I would rather take care of all these illnesses myself! I’m stubborn enough as it is and I don’t really want to take a medical professional’s opinion to heart today. I’d rather say it’s probably this or it’s probably that.

All I know is they make medicine for the day time, the night time, and the kind where you just need to get away from the symptoms. That sounds pretty self explanatory and I know for a fact that the guy next to me on the CDTA is getting irritated with me sucking snot out the back of my throat day after day, so bring on the Mucinex.

Well New Years’ midnight stroke passes and I wake up New Years day with the  abdominal pains of what I can only relate to child birth…like really uncomfortable but not all that bad in the grand scheme…

…right ladies? That’s accurate?

Anyway I proceed to spend the whole day evacuating liquids and solids from my system because, and lets be honest, who wanted them there in the first place? I do the responsible thing and call my parents in Florida to cry over the phone and complain about how life is ending and the world has no light anymore…the usual.

I reach out to my overly-happy and in-love house guests for the holidays, and request they pick me up the biggest vat of gatorade they can find, and some bananas. I’m not sure what the bananas do but my dad said to get it and honestly I haven’t kept anything else down so it’s worth a shot since they’re mushy if they have to come back up.

I am very specific that in my request that I do not want the yellow gatorade because it tastes disgusting and if you disagree we have nothing in common and you should stop reading this now. I don’t pay them back because I’m cheap and miserable and they’re happy and in love so it seems like a fair trade. My bartering skills are top notch.

Somewhere in the following day around noon, my body clams up and decides we’re all set and we can start keeping things inside again…

Then I settle into my cubicle at work the following monday, alive, awake, alert and enthusiastic.

And then I cough.

And then I cough again and its crunchy this time.

About an hour later my eyeballs start getting warm. I made this point the other day to some friends and they looked at me like I had eight heads, but if you’ve ever been sick…which you should have unless you’re Bruce Willis in ‘Unbreakable’, which you’re not…you absolutely understand what that symptom is like.

So I go home and lay on the couch and put on some Boys II Men, and sob softly into the terry-cloth blanket now draped over my face, because I have come to terms with the fact that I am getting sick and I am by myself. Two fever blockers, some melatonin and it’s off to bed for this pretty pretty princess.

The next two days are about as happy as me watching my cat hump the aforementioned terry-cloth blanket while I shovel saltines into my mouth. My face is evacuating pretty much all fluids that are built up inside of it, and the cough that was once crunchy has turned wet and solid at certain points. My body feels basically like someone backed over me with a tractor trailer and I can’t focus on anything because there is steam coming out of those little pink nippley things in the corner of your eyes.

So heres how this goes-25 years old and coming to terms with the fact that you’re not healthy:

You get approached by several co-workers asking if you’re taking anything.

Then they ask if you need them to donate sick time to you.

Then you get the point.

You are officially that asshole at the workplace.

So you take two days off and you make your way over to the rite-aid where you purchase a handle of orange juice, the least expensive cough drops you can find, and two bottles of the store brand ‘Tussin’ that contains absolutely zero alcohol.

And so the next four days of your life are going to be a hazy, exhausting, and terrible barrage of tissues, mucus and regrettable text messages where you come across exceptionally whiney and helpless.

And here we are!

The cough is gone. The mucus is gone too.

And you wake up with every intention of furthering your frequenting of diners on the weekends. You meet your coworker. You order your usual rye toast, coffee, and side of bacon.

Then you get light headed, and a quick a minor sweat sets in and you realize you wore a tank top and a hoodie to brunch and there is absolutely no logical reason you should be a furnace at the moment. So you make your way to the bathroom, excusing yourself politely, and come to terms with the fact that there is a person pooping in the only stall available (by the way this is a huge problem in my opinion…what if more than one person has to go?) and the man standing at the urinal is unfortunately going to have to watch you toss it like a prom queen into the garbage.

It was embarrassing and I composed myself pretty well for being that guy in the bathroom at a diner throwing up the only food he had put into his body today. But then you get back home and you sit and you realize, what if you’re back to the stomach virus?

What if you just keep getting sick?

What if this is a never-ending circle of doom and gloom for your insides and you just gotta get it out?

Well, personally…it is not making me look very forward to the week ahead.

But it is making me re-think my tactics for healthcare at this point in my life.

Look at you 2014. Teaching all kinds of lessons.

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Help! I’m single : An open letter to Bruno Mars.

Dear Mr. Mars,

First and foremost, I would like to say how unbelievably talented you are. I don’t know how you do it but you are just bursting with an essence that should make all men question their sexuality as well as purpose on earth, and bring all (hetero… Nah fuck it, all of them) women to a place in life where they experience shortness of breath.

If I were forced…

…I mean really forced to pinpoint the center of your certain je ne sei qua, like gun to my head from some mad man that very clearly has his priorities in life screwed up being like, “I am absolutely going to shoot you in the face unless you tell me exactly where Bruno Mars’ excellence derives from. I am not even fucking joking, pal!”, I would probably have to say it’s your voice.

Then I would probably have to call the police.

But let me be real for a second, as a heterosexual male, I’m gonna be dead honest and say solely based on your voice alone, I’d probably let you take me on several dates and treat me like the most special person in your life, ultimately resulting in a quick and hasty celebrity marriage and an untimely and quick divorce, lit up and fueled by gossip sites and other loud-mouth celebs.

We all know Usher is a fucking gossip queen.

He’s jealous of what we have. Shhh baby. Don’t speak, we’ll be fine.

Obviously telling you how great your voice is can’t be the reason I’m writing you, I mean is it ever? Illicit image blackmail? Long lost child seeking support off your millions? No B, alas I too seek something from you, but nothing as crass or insensitive.

I just seek your advice!

You see I’ve been bumping ‘Hooligans’ and ‘Unorthodox Jukebox’ a lot lately and I have begun taking notes and asking a lot of questions based off your songs. I mean it really seems like you have your shit together after that little white powder incident, so what better time than now, the new year to seek your advice?

Look, I’m practical which is why I’m writing and not showing up at the front gate to your exceptionally beautiful home. (Though while were on the subject, the painting you chose for above your bed is a bit tacky, I mean I could barely see it from the tree outside, but if you say it goes with the rest of the room, then I guess it must)

So with your surplus of sex-appeal it would be greatly appreciated if you can answer some of the following questions and confirm what I have learned from an in depth analysis of advice you’ve clearly laced into your pop hits for me to help land my dream girl…

…or at least a one night stand that doesn’t resemble Charlize Theron’s portrayal of Aileen Wuornos.

I gotta get back on my a game here:

Treasure:

I got a little out of my league taking notes on this one. First you tell this one of a kind babe that she’s treasure, which I assume is good because that means she’s a gem, or a plethora of currency?

But then I get confused, because you ask her to make your dreams come true by letting you treasure her…which seems to imply that you don’t actually know this woman personally, and if you do she very clearly isn’t letting you dote on her like you and I both know she is supposed to be doing. Should I be approaching women I’ve never met before and telling them how valuable they are to me? Is this the key?

It’s clever…using the word treasure twice, to both express a verb you would like to implement into a person to person relationship, as well as to use it as a noun to express flattery toward a woman. Perhaps, we can switch the noun to another more specific valuable to avoid sounding overbearing and redundant. I came up with these ideas:

•a Franklin
•savings bonds
•Sacajawea dollar
•grandmas crystal teardrop lamps
•Apple stock

Marry You:

This one was way easy for me to comprehend. I’ve been planning my wedding since I was like 15, B. So I totally get the whole ‘Lets rush into this full steam ahead with no care or thought’ feeling you speak of.

First though, you say you’re looking for something dumb to do on this beautiful night. Is this the secret to happiness with a woman Bruno? It makes sense…because when I use key words like ‘love’ or ‘forever’ or ‘I’ve thought about it for a while and I could see myself with you’, girls get all antsy and it usually doesn’t work out.

All the gays make such a stink about how the sanctity of marriage is a joke and it’s not even remotely fair that they aren’t granted the same rights as hetero-couples…but fuck them right? Marriage is something to do in our downtime!

Just to clarify, when I am pursuading this girl to refrain from saying:

‘No, no, no-no-no’

I should emphasize that she just say:

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah’

And also ply her with shots of tequila?
This sounds fishy but whatever gets me to the altar, B.

P.s. Should I be serving ‘Dancing Juice’ at the wedding or inviting a lot of ‘Dancing Jews’? I just want the special day to be perfect and your enunciation is a smidge muddled in the chorus.

It will rain:

Tell women that their absence brings about the shittiest of weather…

…ahem…

‘When you’re busy and don’t involve me in your plans, you cause things like hurricanes and rack up exponential damages in monetary terms.’

Check.

Locked out of Heaven:

This one didn’t really help me much. I’m not a very religious person to begin with so I don’t really know what being locked out of heaven feels like, but I’m guessing not good.

If so why would you tell a woman she makes you feel that way? Unless this is one of those reverse psychology things? Is this song essentially the key to dealing with how to interact with females?

I mean as a guy you do tend to see women walking around with guys that say the meanest shit to them and treat them kinda poorly, but somehow they get to spend their time together as a couple. I guess you just kind of assume that there are women out there that are looking for nice guys. But there really aren’t? Are there?

‘Be a dick.’

Check.

Young Girls:

Waste a lot of time on underage women that will ultimately wear you down and kill you.

Got it. Check. We are killing this, B.

Runaway Baby:

Preface any and all hang outs with new women by insisting they get as far the fuck away from me as possible and if they don’t, make more demands of what they should be saying in response to you yet again.

Jesus, I have been approaching love all wrong.

I am glad were going over this, B.

Just The Way You Are:

You threw me again on this one, B. You keep telling this girl all these thing that should be flattering, but she won’t listen or doesn’t believe you?

It sounds like you’re saying to be really nice to women even though the end result is going to be comparable to popping a Viagra and running belt-buckle first into a brick wall.

Unless…

…since women don’t believe us…

…is the message to…

Lie to women?

Oh, thank god we are going over this, I really would be in trouble out there on my own.

Also, focus a lot on the girl’s face? The body not so much?

Check.

Grenade:

B. You lost me.

All this talk of lying, alpha male tactics and a demanding no-shit-taking attitude, and then you tell me I’m supposed to risk death for women that treat me like nothing I have or do is good enough?

That sounds more like what I already do to entice women…and that hasn’t worked…

…and like pain and physically violent situations are really unappealing to me, so like, blowing my arms off or fending off a knife wielding attacker with my bare hands are things I think I truly may not want in my life.

Awkward artie photo 1431hd2.gifI did come up with a few alternatives that I would be willing to (although I’m still not fond of) compromise on and implement in my expression of devotion to a woman:

•I’d hit a speed bag pretty aggressively for you

•I’d really let the waiter have it verbally for not bringing more cheddar bay biscuits for you

•I’d suffer a substantial paper cut, but not from anything thicker than Manila folders, for you

•I’d let a sizably smaller man than me punch me in the shoulder ONCE for you

•I’d absolutely take a bullet, but only under the circumstances that it’s a clean through-and-through located near no vital organs and the situation leads to a lawsuit allowing me to live comfortably through the rest of my days on earth, for you

As long as none of those stand out as not good enough to you B, I don’t think we have to spend anymore time with this song.

Gorilla:

I saved the most important one for last. Since this song is about making the sex, I figured all the wooing should be dealt with ahead of this.

You know, I always wondered why my bedroom game wasn’t up to par with all my other guy friends. Like…as you know, us males actively spend our sleep-overs discussing our tactics and technique and never for one minute did I gather that I may have been doing something wrong.

Just please confirm if you will, that the three steps below are how the sex actually works? I’m not doubting you, B, you know exactly what you’re doing.

First: preface the sex by drinking a lot and do cocaine?

Second: be super aggressive, loud, cause a scene, have the police show up, have a…SWAT team show up?

Oh hell no Pushing Daisies photo ohhellnopd.gif

Third (and most important): make sure we are “fucking like gorillas”?

Check, checkity, check-check.

Awesome! I’m really glad I got this all down, I think I’m really on the way to seeing a change in my dating life. Thanks again for throwing all those sub-textual pieces of advice in your songs for me and only me. I just knew we were meant to be friends.

I look forward to your response and confirmation to all my questions, but in the meantime, I think I’m gonna go try a few of these new tactics out!

Cheers!

Love,

Alex

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Most Things are Garbage.

Something you need to know if you’re reading this. Don’t take it to heart.

Like any of it. Seriously.

‘Most things are garbage’ is not my outlook on life, it’s humor. It’s just one of those things to say rather than letting life get to me and letting out that inevitable and undeniably guttural sigh of exhaustion in life. Kinda like saying:

‘Why is this my life?!’

or

‘Why does my iPhone know to auto-correct Kardashian?’

or

‘Why does Honey-Boo-Boo get to be famous and I get this 03′ Civic with one working speaker?’

This blog is what I have decided to use as a means to take a humorous outlook on myself and life this year, instead of in a private blog format that I keep to myself or a limited audience. My mother informed me (and multiple sources confirm below) that my self-deprecating ramblings don’t always come across as joking or humorous, and asked me to start being more positive! So I figured this would be the easiest way to go about resolving the issue. It’s nothing you’re forced to read and honestly, the decision is yours. Basically this is a means for me to poke fun and enjoy life by writing about it the way I write about things.

So, ya know…if you enjoy giggles, lolz, or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays and you can handle it being laced with heavy sarcastic undertones and wit, then stick around and maybe you’ll enjoy it!

2013 to me was what can only be described as the one of the most off-years this far into my life. It was literally doomed from the start and my mind was in a very negative place not suited to handle life choices, simple or difficult. I made errors, I course corrected, and here we are.

It’s a new year. It’s a time to ask the age old important question.

No, not what are my New Years resolutions. Don’t be stupid. There’s like a billion other questions you could ask that are more important than that. Like:

  • Why is Duck Dynasty still a thing?
  • At what exact moment in life does snow go from being fun to obnoxious?
  • Why am I still not Justin Bieber?
  • Do the green M&Ms really…ya know…make you…ya know?

See? All more important.

But in this case I’m talking the most self reflecting thing one could truly ask themselves, and then spend years searching for the answer to:

Who am I?

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Got it.

Lets pause to touch base with the at-home readers. Here’s a simplified little blurb on who I am IMO (in my opinion, for those playing the home game) at the age of 25 in bullet form (AKA practice for my dating profile-Don’t worry mom, I am being safe about it this time):

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•5’9″ 153 lbs.
•Homeowner
•Father to an anxiety ridden Dachshund and a Tuxedo cat with an affinity for bathrooms.
•Single
•Fully Employed by the State of New York with full benefits
•Non-drinker, occasional cigar smoker, and semi-healthy individual but not an exercise freak, I get along really well with food that’s shitty for me – kindred spirits I guess
•Good friend
•Caring
•At a defining BUT temporary impasse in life

Now, skeptical readers will probably read this and say, “Nice bio Mr. High-and-mighty…no flaws!”

Look, I’d take the time to point out the bajillion I have myself, but I’m really into this bag of Milano cookies on my lap and it requires all my attention right now, and because I know it’s important in all of this, my lazy-ass reached out to the masses and gathered a vast spectrum of blurbs about myself. So let’s take a look at the stats:

SOCIAL EXPERIMENT!

EVERYONE TELL ME BRUTALLY AND HONESTLY WHAT YOU THINK OF ME AS A PERSON!

The ‘probably going to be positively skewed Motherly’ opinion:

You are a very empathetic, sympathetic honestly caring individual. You are so very talented in so many ways. But you can also show on occasion a wicked anger that comes up strong and fast.

You are kind sometimes to a fault. You love with your whole heart!

Thanks Mom. Leave out the part about my fresh cut grass fetish and sub-par grade point average. By the way I just mailed your Birthday card…I’ll try to be more on time this January. Wait…shit…

The ‘”I’m not sure I met my monthly guy talk quota”-fatherly’ opinion:

Naive, normal and too intelligent for your own good sometimes. Faithful, caring, lonesome and without a doubt still in search of the meaning of life….you never find it until that moment of clarity. The “oh, now I get it” moment.

I will overlook the fact that you inserted lonesome after two nice things to soften the sting, but I’ll remember it in the future…probably when you’re old and balding…so like, you have negative five years to take that back.

The ‘male species I call a bestie’ opinion (Aka The ‘We’ve basically been in love for like seven really good months’ opinion):

Well now…ummmm. You’re one of my closest friends which speaks volumes because I don’t get close to people. You’re funny, smart, and great at getting people to come together and WANT to come together which makes our group of friends stronger because of you.

I make people want to do WHAT…?

You make missteps in life and aren’t the best at making solid relationship choices which is derived from an excessive (and unnecessary) amount of self doubt which you attempt to mask with humor.

But you’re always forcing yourself to be better in spite of your short comings which is all that really matters. You do everything you can to make sure that life doesn’t pass you by in spite of circumstances that are temporarily restricting you. That’s the best I can do off the top of my head. OH WAIT….you have fantastic hair. How could I forget about your fantastic hair? I’m jealous of your hair.

Naturally.

The ‘Female bestie that has your back’ option:

You are a strong and beautiful individual. You are talented and creative and it comes from a very honest and raw place. You are a good friend, supportive and loving. You are brave for making life changing choices and a role model for people who want to make changes in their life.

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The ‘Female bestie who is marrying your male bestie so she better be nice or heads will roll’ option:

You’re one of the funniest people I have ever met. You even have this ability to crack a joke at the most inappropriate times and still make people smile. You’re a bleeding heart, which makes for a wonderful friend, and a vulnerable boyfriend. Your hobbies and fixations run your life- object, idea or human. You seem to change things about who you are to better suit the needs of others, unusually making yourself unhappy.

You are always willing to help a friend, family member, or anyone who needs you, but you also seem to get wrapped up in your own world sometimes, leaving everyone else behind. You often ask for advice, but rarely follow it.

You refuse to admit things to other people until you admit them to yourself. You’re incredibly creative and talented. You’re one of my best and closest friends.

The ‘Asian best friend we sometimes rip on a lot and probably the reason I got this response’ opinion:

2:42 PM: Doormat.

4:44 PM: Did you seriously want a paragraph or was that a friend test. Cuz I think I failed

Yeah, you know, paragraphs…those one word things. You nailed it buddy.

The ‘One of many mom’s that isn’t actually my mom that I hang out with because they’re awesome and I’m…well, me’ opinion:

Alex Foster is someone I have known for two years now. He is a kind, fun, and quirky guy. He is someone who will give you the shirt off their back to help you and someone who will be a lifelong friend. Is he perfect…?

No.

But who is. He has made mistakes in life but has quickly learned and made changes to help make himself a better person.

The ‘Second of many mom’s that isn’t actually my mom that I hang out with because…Ok, listen I really get along well with moms’ opinion:

So, my theme for Alex Foster. I believe Alex to be an honest friend. I think he is caring & open. There are times, though, that I’d like to slap him for being unhappy in his skin. He needs to realize that he is only 26…

(or is it 25?)

…years old, and having a great paying job and owning his own home is a great place to be in his life for now. FOR NOW! Planning to spread his wings in five years and being satisfied learning & earning right now is the best advise I’d give to him. I also think he can be way too hard on himself & needs to laugh more. At times, he seems like the class clown…

…laughing on the outside, crying on the inside.

I love him dearly, but it would be great if he could learn to ask for help when he needs it, and accept help when it’s offered!! I would trust Alex with any secret I’d tell him.

Shucks.

The ‘I worked in a pizza parlor with this girl over the course of four months in the summer and she was very cool and nice but super skeptical of me asking her for her opinion of me but based on time known you should all hold this one to the highest regard that was sarcasm just FYI’ opinion:

You are an amazing intellectual creative person who is a hard worker.. you are a great person to have as a friend .. you are witty and always make me laugh even when you or I are having a bad day u do t let your bad mood effect others … any person is lucky to call you a friend

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Preach girl. Preach.

The ‘Ex that started off 2013 with a bang that I don’t really talk to anymore but, really? This is what you think?’ Opinion:

Alex Foster. Kind, loving, eager to please; often to a fault. Energetic, yet somehow, also lethargic.

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Broken stove? Whatever, no issue; let him grab the soldering iron out of his clown car, he’ll fix that right up for you. No project is too much…until he gets 1/3 of the way through…But seriously. Whatever he doesn’t know how to do, he’ll figure it out along the way. Full of surprises, he doesn’t know who he’ll be this morning any more than you do, literally.

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I’m serious. He’s a delightfully frustrating combination of 13 year old boy and 75 year old man.

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The ‘Ex I was friends with, then dating, then sobbing over-into melted ice cream-that I still talk to’ opinion:

Okay I think you are a great person. You are kind and you are considerate; and you are creative and you are fun. You are patient but you are eager.

You have the emotionality of a teenage girl.

I think you are insecure with who you are.

You seem to try really hard to be different. You can be contradictory; you say one thing but do another. But you have a true heart and a good heart and you are a very good person.

The ‘Eighth grade teacher that still keeps in touch even though she no longer lives in the state and has a child to deal with that isn’t me anymore’ opinion:

Alex is an artist. Whether working in theater, with music, photography or written word, the outcome is always thought provoking, emotional, often witty, and filled with raw talent. You can almost hear the gears turning in his head as project ideas constantly run through it.

Alex has never been afraid to face challenges, both within himself and in the outside world. He has a great sense of humor which he often uses to shape how he views the world and himself.

(I just wish he wouldn’t be so self-deprecating!)

Alex is a genuinely good person- kind to others, caring about friends and family, loyal to those who love him. I’m proud to know him and call him my friend.

I suddenly feel…smarter.

The ‘Girl I fooled around with a smidge a looooong time ago that periodically checks in to see what my life consists of, just so there’s no mystery within the gaps of silent years’ opinion:

Not a great listener, can be overly dramatic and stubborn.

You have a little bit of the victim complex going on sometimes.

On the flip side, when you have someone you’re interested in, you do devote a lot of time and energy into that relationship, you have a healthy level of sarcasm. I don’t know this is a lot of pressure.

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Well, that wasn’t awkward at all!

Well, I’m not here to defend myself against any of that malarkey. I didn’t reach out for a boost of confidence, though bonus! I appreciate the honesty and all the descriptions made are based off each one knowing me in some way shape or form in life so I take it all to heart as a nice form of constructive criticism. Honestly it’s super humbling in more ways than one and I am exceedingly grateful to have such wonderful people around me in life.

I’m sure if you stumble across this and you know me and you’ve met me you have your own opinions and I’m sure they’re unbelievably accurate…

Especially you, ‘girl that lived around the corner from me in high school for 10 years and still didn’t remember my name at graduation’

…and feel free to send them my way…by whatever means you want to…email, facebook, postal service…carrier pigeon?

So now! What I will do is take all of this in and begin to look at myself and at my life, practically, which in terms of me probably looks something like this:

That is where I stand at 25.

I am an uncomfortable and jumbled ball of different descriptions not held down or defined by one consistent theme because they all have different aspects.

It’s just as an individual should be right?

I guess I just get so caught up in trying to get a move on that I am missing the downtime of experiencing everything, the way most people are getting to that point where they just shut up, stop trying so hard, and just kind of let it be.

And then it gets better.

That’s the thing about this year though, I think it is going to need to be a little uncomfortable for me. It needs to be filled with trying to get to that point where I feel like I’m beating my best into submission by whatever means I need, baseball bat, fire, effeminate slapping…but it needs to just kinda happen on its own, while I don’t really try to figure it all out.

Honestly. I think this year is going to be good.

Nay.

Fabulous.

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