I. NOT READING MY BLOG IS LIKE HAVING CABLE PROBLEMS
When you don't read my blog, you're left woefully unenlightened. When you feel unenlightened, you overcompensate by trying to fool people in casual, public conversation by preaching your weak political views. When you politically pontificate, you anger the other mental-giants in the room and make things generally awkward. When people feel awkward, they fall back upon bad jokes and questions they don't care about like "So how's work?" When people don't give a shit about your answers, they fabricate a reason to abandon the conversation by saying they'll be right back after getting another drink. When people "get another drink" seven or eight times, they get tired and want to drive home. When people drive home drunk, they kill children.......... Don't be responsible for the death of a child. Read my blog.
II. THERE'S ONLY ONE ZOOEY DESCHANEL...AND IT'S NOT YOU.
It seems like every girl who a) has watched the FOX network in the last few months, and b) has even a mildly quirky personality believes that "Oh, my God that "New Girl" is SOOOOO me!" Then they sing the theme song, inserting their own name into the lyrics. "Who's that giiiirl? Who's that giiiiiiiiiiiiiirl? It's [first name here]!"
Guess what. It's not you.
It's kinda like that Van Morrison song, "Brown Eyed Girl." Believe it or not, it's happened on more occasions than I can count on my fingers and toes (and I have 30 of each, just sayin') that when said song comes on, a girl somewhere within ear shot goes, "Ooo! It's my song!" They typically points to their eyes too, as if whomever they're with hadn't either already noticed or obviously inferred that their fucking eyes are brown... No, but you're right. I'm sure Van Morrison had YOU in mind when writing that. ('You seem kinda angry today...' It's Monday. Of course I'm angry).
Lastly, regarding the heading of this particular blog item, Zooey, if it IS you reading this, stop reading and call me immediately. You and I need to break a sweat together... I'm trademarking that phrase. Well, that and the name Blue Ivey. They're mine.
III. QUICK HITTERS PART ONE
- I bet all girls who really like the NBA are whores.
- Speaking of the NBA, I was talking about someone I really don't like (I think it was Glen "Big Baby" Davis), specifically about his Celtic days, and the person with whom I was conversing said "He put the 'ton' in Boston." And I replied by saying, he's put the 'pussy' in the word "pussy." We laughed. I wrote it down. And now here it is for you to enjoy. Boom, see how that works?
- Electric cars are a good idea, but if I were to drive one, I bet it would take me a while before I became comfortable with the idea that I wouldn't be able to hear/feel the rumble and hum of the engine while driving along. At traffic lights, I would instinctively think my car had stalled, etc... For that reason, if and when I do ever acquire one, I'm going to burn a CD of my own recorded voice making typical car noises. There will be two tracks on the CD, to which I'd refer as "moving" and "stopped." Each track will be 38 minutes in length so I don't have to rewind too frequently. The former will simply involve me trilling my r's repeatedly and randomly varying in pitch and volume, hoping that it syncs up with my actual speed - "Brrrrrrrrr-aaaah, brrrrrrrr-aaaah! brrrr-aaaaaaAAAHH, BRRRRR-AAAAH!" - you get the idea. The latter, the quieter track, will consist solely of me essentially saying the word "brub" over and over again to simulate an idle engine stopped at a traffic light or such - "brubbrubbrubbbrubbrubbrubbrubbrubbrub" and so on for 38 minutes. I'm not worried about having music to listen to either because I have an iPad2, so radio/playlists are taken care of. This should not have been in the quick hitters section. Dammit.
- Ya know, for as popular as "Entourage" was, I don't think it's going down in history as anything really worthwhile. So it was pretty much the story of Mark Wahlberg's career....Aaaaaand??!?!..... I would have rather watched six seasons (or however many there were) of Andy Samberg doing Mark Wahlberg impressions and talking to animals on SNL. Also, Jeremy Piven fuckin' stinks.
- How come there are no white people with the last name "Dawkins?" And why are so many Dawkins's really athletic?
- They should make toilets where you can lay down to drop a 2. Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking - what about the inevitable pee that follows? And my answer is simple - I don't know what to tell ya. Deal with it. I just want to lay down. ('Wait, so you'd be okay with getting pee on yourself?' Well, at least then I'd know what it's like to be any girl I've been with recently...).
- I sat staring and thinking about deleting that last one about toilets for 11 minutes just now because I almost made myself throw up writing it. But, you all have to know that it's all in jest by now, so....yeah, whatever, moving on.
IV. IT JUST DIDN'T SEEM RIGHT!
Person A: "So how was it?"
DJ: "I don't know. Something just seemed a little....not right."
Person A: "What do you mean 'not right'? Did it go really badly?"
DJ: "No, it was just like.... I don't know, like if you met a hispanic woman who said her name was Carol."
Person A: "...............What?"
DJ: "You know, if you meet a Spanish mami, you'd expect her to be an Isabella (Eees-a-bella) or something, not fuckin' Carol. Carol's a white soccer mom. It just wouldn't seem right."
Person A: "Have you actually met a hispanic woman named Carol?"
DJ: "No... That'd be ridiculous."
V. NO SERIOUSLY, WHO WOULD YOU EAT?
This is another item that stemmed from a funny/absurd conversation, but I don't feel like doing it dialogue-style again, and this is also the designated "If you're gonna comment, do it about this one" item, so I want you to know that I really want an answer here.
I won't even bother with posing a ludicrous hypothetical scenario like "You're stuck on an island and you haven't eaten in a week, blah blah blah...." Forget all that. Just answer the following: if you had to eat ('Are we being lude and disgustingly sexual here?' No. When I say "eat," I mean "physically ingest the entirety of") one person, who would it be? And to take it a step further, how would you prepare him/her?
Would you eat a celebrity? Does physical attractiveness have anything to do with it? Like, do you suppose Liv Tyler would taste better than Steven Tyler because she's pretty and he looks like the thing from Tales from the Crypt?
Would you even eat someone you like/respect? Or would you go the other way and eat a mortal enemy so later in life you can say things like "Yeah, that motherfucker always gave me a hard time, so I fucking ATE him, hashtag boom-roasted." (Get the pun?).
Personally, that's how I'd do it. I'd pick someone I don't like, and preferably a small person, because I'm guessing I won't like the taste, despite the veritable cauldron of A1 sauce I'd pour on the sum-bitch....Now, who do I hate that's small?....hmmmmmmmm......
........Actually, ya know what, fuck it. Meryl Streep. That's who I'm eating. Barbecued. And when people ask me how she was, I'll say "I don't know what all the hub-bub was about. It was REALLY NEVER THAT GREAT!"
('Really? All that just was setup just so you could go after the greatest actress of the past half-century?' Well...yeah.)
VI. INSERT WEAK MASK METAPHOR HERE...
I find it boundlessly interesting that during business trips, after I've wrapped up all my work for the day and head out to a bar/restaurant for dinner in whatever town I'm in, people are almost always ready to engage me in conversation. And I think that in most cases, it's because they can just feel the, ummmm, "not from around here"-ness that I apparently exude... Of course, wearing a Phillies hat in Boston is kind of a dead give away, but still. People can just tell.
I also recently decided that it's not satisfying enough to simply continue to observe this phenomenon, but rather, after three of years of this, it's about time I up the ante a bit and start inventing identities...That's right. And I could certainly use your input here. Be as detailed as you'd like, I'll think it over, try my best to match your description, then will be sure to report on my experience next time. Could be interesting.
Of course, there are limits. I can't say I'm a fuckin' astronaut or a rock star or something because I wouldn't be able to answer questions about the former and don't drive a car indicative of the lifestyle of the latter. But, I can still be creative. For example, while I'm not a monster, I'm also not a small person. So, the last time I was in MA, I managed to convince a throng of shmuck-ish ('Is shmuck-ish a word?' No, but I think the meaning is obvious and I think it's funny, so I'm introducing it) Patriots fans that I made it to the last round of cuts during the team's 2006 training camp, trying out as a reserve tight end. One of these football-crazed assholes even said he lives and dies with the Pats, that he's always on the team website, has saved all his memorabilia, etc., he was there when Tom Brady did this or that blah blah blah, and that "Yeah, you [meaning me] looked kinda familiar. I think I remember you..." What a jackass.
Don't get me wrong, most of the time these conversations are indeed directed towards women. But honestly, it's almost less fun that way because while they find the out-of-town-ness equally if not even more interesting (kinda like how all chicks have a thing for a dude with an European accent), they also tend to have their guard up a bit more, keeping a close eye on their bullshit-radar (Conversely, a bunch of drunk dudes at a sports bar will believe anything you tell them because why the fuck would some out of towner lie to them?). Moreover, after the first few minutes, women tend to do what women tend to do, which is to say steer the conversation in a way that centers exclusively around them. And that's fine, but then it's just like any other ole' time I hit on a girl and buy her drinks, except now I'm a pediatrician/ninja who's in town to help his brother teach young kids the finer points of trapeze....
And no, I don't typically get laid by pulling this shit.
VII. YEAH, I MAKE PUZZLES. WHAT OF IT?
No for real, I make crossword puzzles. At least, I'm just starting to try to. Don't believe me? Go here:
The grid patters, clues, and answers are all my original shit. Go do them.
I'm gonna keep posting more of these, but it takes a while. You wouldn't believe how fucking hard these things are to make! Did you know each puzzle has to be exactly diagonally symmetrical, and that you're not really allowed to have more than 1/6 of the tiles be black squares? AND every letter in the puzzles must be part of an across and down answer? AND that every answer must be at least three letters in length? ('So why the fuck do you do it then!?!?' Jeez, I've never heard you curse at me before...I dunno, it's fun.)
VIII. IT JUST DOESN'T SEEM NECESSARY!
Nobody looks their best or feels their best immediately after getting off a plane. For this reason as well as many others, I wonder why airports insist on placing mirrors directly above the urinals in the bathrooms. Never - and to reiterate, especially not after exiting an airplane - do I really need to look at myself while I take a piss. There's no reason for it. I mean, I look at myself in the mirror with my junk in my hands enough as it is while in the comfort of my own home...('Kidding? Please?' Yes, relax).
The only possible answer here is that maybe some folks feel comfortable knowing what's happening behind them in case they think someone's otherwise going to come up and strangle them while they're peeing. But that still seems silly, doesn't it? In fact, I bet that on far too many occasions, the current urinator looks into the mirror and inadvertently makes eye contact with the person waiting immediately behind them, and who is also likely anxiously tapping his foot and taking long, deep, impatient breaths. And that just makes for an awkward situation, right? Like, what is the guy supposed to do, pee faster? Eliminate shake-time? Because then he'd get piss all in his underwear, and nobody wants that. So, simple solution - just get rid of the goddamn mirrors. If you want to see yourself, wash your dirty, pissy hands when you're done and look then. Boom, problem solved.
IX. QUICK HITTERS PART TWO
- I recently heard of this product called "lip venom." Apparently it's designed to essentially burn a woman's lips so they swell / get puffier. Interesting. And why doesn't someone market this exact product to Asian men?.... (Come on, you're almost there, keep thinking......There ya go. It's a dick joke. Good job).
- Can we all just agree to bring back the sunglasses-dip move that was so prevalent on 80's movie posters? You know what I'm talking about - like when a girl in a bikini walks past a couple guys on the beach in slow motion, they both look at her and dip their sunglasses to get a better view... It used to be EVERYWHERE! And now it's gone. And that's unacceptable. I want to dip my fuckin' sunglasses when I see someone junk-worthy, and I don't want it to be cheesy. Let's do this together. Thank you.
- Also, men should start wearing hats to work again. It looked awesome in the past, it looks great in movies, and it would look awesome now. In related news, who else is pumped for "Mad Men" to come back?
- Have you ever thought about wh
at Denise Richards would look like if she took off all her make-up, cut her hair short, and dyed it black? I have, and the answer is Peter Gallagher.
at Denise Richards would look like if she took off all her make-up, cut her hair short, and dyed it black? I have, and the answer is Peter Gallagher.X. WE FOUND LOVE IN AN.... UNEXPECTED PLAAA-AACE!
('Jesus, here we go. Why is the last item always the mushy one?' I don't know, shut up).
Allow me to be sincere/honest before I put a bow on this thing. For six months I have questioned when I would fall in love with a girl again, and honestly if I ever would. I've tried. I've failed. I've dusted myself off. I've tried again. I've tried to force it, etc. Dead ends all around (for now). I became somewhat skeptical of the whole idea, and I all but eliminated the seemingly absurd possibility of falling in love at first sight. Clearly, I began to think, that would never and could never, ever, ever happen....
.... Just as clearly, I was dead wrong on all counts.
Hello there, Francie-Anne Mazzola (my niece).
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And that'll do it for now folks. Until next time, don't be afraid to be yourself. And if you're travelling out of town, don't be afraid to be someone else! Just know that if you meet a hispanic chick named Carol, she's probably full of shit just like you....Oh, one more thing....
Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
DJ
