It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a dog.
As I’ve stated on this blog many a times, I’m an introvert. And as such, making a ton of new friends isn’t too high on my priority list. It’s right below getting a tooth pulled and just a smidge above picking up a transsexual hooker.
Why is it such a problem? I’ll tell you why. (more…)
Hang around me long enough, and you’ll slowly start to find out that the universe is conspiring against me. I’m not really sure what I did to piss it off, but universe, if you’re listening: I’m sorry. You can stop picking on me now. Thanks.
If my life was ever made into a movie, it would be titled ‘Murphy’s Law‘. It would also be an animated 3-D film and George Clooney would play the role of yours truly. Yes, I believe that sounds about right.
The best example I can give is my troubles with parking lots. It truly is a microcosm of my entire life experiences. Like every normal person, as soon as I pull into a parking lot I begin to drive around, looking for an open space. Naturally, I first check near the entrance of the store, restaurant, bar, etc. Let’s face it, no one likes a long walk. Most people out there, they find those open spots. I wonder what the must feel like because for me, I never see them. Never. In all my years of driving. Never.
Now, that by itself is no big deal. And I would agree, a little exercise never hurt anyone. But the story doesn’t end there, oh no. It doesn’t end there.
I was recently reading about the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. It’s a personality assessment test developed by Carl Jung to measure psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions. There are 16 different personality types. Baskin Robbins has 31 different flavors, but I digress. Curious, I went ahead and took the test. Since I never like to get all my information from a single source, I took it on three different sites. All three gave me the same result, so I felt confident I was given the right ‘prognosis’. I was definitely given the right prognosis. (more…)
Last week, I had the misfortune of working in a dusty old warehouse, dealing with dusty boxes, looking through dusty papers, breathing in dusty air.
Did I mention there was a lot of dust? Because there was. Everywhere. Dust.
Being continually exposed to such depressing surroundings has a way of bringing you down. As if having to worry about contracting emphysema wasn’t bad enough, I had to stare at a deluge of dilapidated documents the entire time and nothing else. Bo-ring.
So why am I bothering to mention such a mundane moment? Well, one day amidst the dreary doldrums of that dingy dungeon I happened to come across a little baby bird nestled in the corner of the ceiling. I could barely see its head peering over the nest. This little dude was tiny. He would come to be my source of entertainment for the next few days . . .
Thanks to everyone who left feedback on Part Une of this experiment, it means a lot. Actually, thanks to anyone whose ever left a comment on any of posts. I wasn’t really sure if anyone was going to give a crap about my random facts, but I’m glad some of you do. 🙂 And about the whole π thing, it’s a bit of a secret to those around me. I certainly don’t go bragging about it . . . not that such a trivial tidbit of info deserves being boastful about to begin with. And I’m also glad to hear that there are more social introverts out there in the world. We should all get together some time and party. Then again, the big crowds might prove to be a problem. Hmm. How ironic.
Anyways, here are facts number six, seven, and eight: (more…)
“They say money can’t buy happiness? Look at the fucking smile on my face. Ear to ear, baby.”
It’s a sad fact that money makes the world go ’round. If you don’t want to believe so, please stop reading and go back to watching the Little Mermaid. I don’t mean to interrupt. It controls politics, media, and most importantly relationships. (more…)
Recently, I learned something about the opposite sex . . . or so I think.
Girlfriend: My butt is getting huge. I feel like I should lose weight.
Me: There’s a new gym that just opened down the street; they prbly have some great membership deals right now. Check it out!
Wrong.
Immediately she thinks to herself, “Great, he must also think I should lose weight. What a beavermelon this guy is!! Jeez.”
I think she looks amazing. All I wanted to do is help and somehow I’m getting the short end of the proverbial stick here! Wtf? Yarrrrrrrr. [Yes, I am a pirate.]
To me, and billions of men around the world, a complaint is a challenge to come up with a solution. As men, we feel an obligation to help our lady overcome the issue at hand. Alas, women aren’t looking for men to solve the problem as much as they just want a shoulder to yap on. They want sympathy, not resolutions. They want someone who will listen, not necessarily give advice.
So what am I going to say next time?
“Be quiet, I’m watching football. And get me a beer . . . and some kielbasa! Yeah! YARRRRRRRR.”
The latest Miss America was just crowned. Congratulations Katie Stam AKA Ms. Indiana.
Congrats for what? I’m not really sure.
I don’t get the point of beauty pageants. At all.
Take away the audience, take away the cameras broadcasting the show to millions thousands of viewers around the world, and what do you have? (more…)
Growing up, my mom and dad loved to argue. They would argue about anything, anywhere, at any time.
I remember one day, our house caught on fire.
We all made it out and my mom starting screaming, “Oh my God, what are we going to do? Our house is burning up!”
My father replied, “No you idiot, it’s obviously burning down.”
“Just the fact’s Ma’am.”
A splendiferous spectacle of supernatural and superfluous soliloquies! 