I live a pretty stress-free life. Things are great and I have no issues to speak of. I have a sweet and beautiful girlfriend, two cute and loving canine companions and a DVR filled with 1990's era movies that I forgot to watch twenty years ago. I stay in shape, eat relatively well and only drink on days whose first letter belongs in the 2nd half of the alphabet... with the exception of Monday and Friday. I have great friends, a working central A/C unit and a job that is walking distance to Chick-fil-A. I also have a family that has blessed me with full love and support. They've also blessed me with high blood pressure.
My family history is very typically Jewish. We eat with each other, talk to each other and complain about each other. A very Jewish upbringing means you're with family a lot. Holidays, weddings, Bar/Bat mitzvahs, Sunday dinners and especially the opening of a new bagel place. This are all parts of my genetic make-up that I have embraced about my Jewish heritage. The genetic trait I dislike the most is the passing down of high blood pressure. Well, that and the nose size.
I went to the doctor a month ago and was informed that I was "at risk" for high blood pressure. My BP was not too worrisome but with my family history, I would have to keep an eye on it. I was told to work out regularly and be mindful of what I was eating. That seemed like two very reasonable things. Work out regularly, like, a couple times a month. Be mindful of what I eat, like, don't eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that fell on the floor of a movie theater unless you were able to pick it up within 13 seconds.
My doctor actually meant that I should work out more than twice a month. He went as far as to say I should work out 3-5 times a week. Hey Doc, I'm just trying to lower my blood pressure, not join the Marines. He also said my eating habits should go beyond not just stopping myself from eating a tasty treat off the floor of the stale popcorn stained concrete of a popular movie theater chain and actually paying attention to what I'm ingesting into my body. Not too much red meat, not too much fried food and not too much beer. I don't think that's going to happen - I may be Jewish, but I'm also Texan.
The best part about modern medicine is that the doctor can lecture you on how to live your life but he can also prescribe to you a magic little pill that helps you out without having to listen to the quack. I don't have to work out or watch what I eat. Instead, I swallow an unjagged little pill as I woof down my second plate of bacon.
I feel great, I look great and my life doesn't have to change at all. I like these small blue tablets I take daily. They're easy to digest and affordable to buy. Everything is alright in the world. Now, if I can only figure out how to get rid of this constant erection...
Friday, August 8, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
August
Today is August 1st. It's not necessarily a great day or a bad day. There's no history that I know of that happened on August 1st. August 1st is not celebrated the way you would for July 4th or a loved one's birthday and it's not a date that you would shudder at the way you would for September 11th or last Saturday when we found out that 5 Seconds of Summer's album knocked "Weird Al" Yankovic's album off the number one spot.
August 1st is a day that, as a kid, kind of sucked because it was the last month of Summer. You go to Target on July 31st and in their seasonal department is lawn chairs and barbecue grills. You go on August 1st and it's backpacks and notebook paper. That's a shitty day as a kid. As an adult, it's kind of cool because it means that football season is a month away. It also means that the blazing heat outside will start fading. It also means, and this might make me sound a tad bit old, that the kids will get the hell off my lawn.
I live in a pretty urban area of Los Angeles. Lots of apartments, restaurants, bars, and because this is LA, yoga studios. Of all the apartment complexes on our street, we're the only one with a lawn. This is great because, hey, it's a grassy lawn in front of our apartment. This is bad because, hey look everyone, come enjoy the only lawn on the block. It's not like we're having BBQ's or birthday parties on the grassy knoll in front of our place. It's just that people like sitting there. Seems crazy to me, because you can just sit on a beach 10 miles away.
What are people doing while sitting there, you ask? I'll tell you... nothing. That's right, they don't bring books, they don't bring dogs, they don't bring flaming batons to throw around. They literally do nothing. Just sit on the grass patch and stare into the oblivion. In this case, oblivion is a rundown apartment across the street.
Living here is very different than the area where I grew up. In the suburbs of Dallas, Texas it seemed that everyone had big yards and swimming pools. Well, everyone but us. No swimming pool for the Schwartz household. We had a backyard with 2 swingsets though. One that was nice and new and one that was rusty and old. When we upgraded to our brand spanking new swingset, complete with monkey bars and slide, we never got rid of the old one. We just had 2 vastly different eyesores invading our space where a fucking pool should have been.
We did have access to a few pools though. Summertime in Texas, you kind of need a pool. The sprinklers just don't cut it. 100 degrees plus everyday warrants a dip in the pool. Otherwise, you'd have to spend time indoors like a chump. Sometimes, you could run through the sprinklers or even better, you can hook up the ol' Willy the Waterbug and become the envy of the block.
Willy the Waterbug was some sort of weird plastic caterpillar looking thing that you hooked your hose into. It had about 6 beaded, little "water veins" that would thrash about and squirt water. As a kid, it was pretty awesome. We'd play a game where you got a running start and tried to jump over Willy without getting hit by one of his nasty little water arms. As an adult looking back, it was terrifying because those hard, beaded, unpredictable little water arteries of Willy would hit you in the, well, the willy constantly.
Back in that day, we didn't use protection from the sun. Didn't need sunscreen or lotion. Actually, the girls I knew greased up with baby oil and sat in the sun for hours on end. We'd get in our bathing sutis, walk outside in the blazing Texas sun and run around the yard for hours with no sunscreen in sight. The only protection we needed was our hands covering our peckers as we tried to jump over Willy.
August 1st is a day that, as a kid, kind of sucked because it was the last month of Summer. You go to Target on July 31st and in their seasonal department is lawn chairs and barbecue grills. You go on August 1st and it's backpacks and notebook paper. That's a shitty day as a kid. As an adult, it's kind of cool because it means that football season is a month away. It also means that the blazing heat outside will start fading. It also means, and this might make me sound a tad bit old, that the kids will get the hell off my lawn.
I live in a pretty urban area of Los Angeles. Lots of apartments, restaurants, bars, and because this is LA, yoga studios. Of all the apartment complexes on our street, we're the only one with a lawn. This is great because, hey, it's a grassy lawn in front of our apartment. This is bad because, hey look everyone, come enjoy the only lawn on the block. It's not like we're having BBQ's or birthday parties on the grassy knoll in front of our place. It's just that people like sitting there. Seems crazy to me, because you can just sit on a beach 10 miles away.
What are people doing while sitting there, you ask? I'll tell you... nothing. That's right, they don't bring books, they don't bring dogs, they don't bring flaming batons to throw around. They literally do nothing. Just sit on the grass patch and stare into the oblivion. In this case, oblivion is a rundown apartment across the street.
Living here is very different than the area where I grew up. In the suburbs of Dallas, Texas it seemed that everyone had big yards and swimming pools. Well, everyone but us. No swimming pool for the Schwartz household. We had a backyard with 2 swingsets though. One that was nice and new and one that was rusty and old. When we upgraded to our brand spanking new swingset, complete with monkey bars and slide, we never got rid of the old one. We just had 2 vastly different eyesores invading our space where a fucking pool should have been.
We did have access to a few pools though. Summertime in Texas, you kind of need a pool. The sprinklers just don't cut it. 100 degrees plus everyday warrants a dip in the pool. Otherwise, you'd have to spend time indoors like a chump. Sometimes, you could run through the sprinklers or even better, you can hook up the ol' Willy the Waterbug and become the envy of the block.
Willy the Waterbug was some sort of weird plastic caterpillar looking thing that you hooked your hose into. It had about 6 beaded, little "water veins" that would thrash about and squirt water. As a kid, it was pretty awesome. We'd play a game where you got a running start and tried to jump over Willy without getting hit by one of his nasty little water arms. As an adult looking back, it was terrifying because those hard, beaded, unpredictable little water arteries of Willy would hit you in the, well, the willy constantly.
Back in that day, we didn't use protection from the sun. Didn't need sunscreen or lotion. Actually, the girls I knew greased up with baby oil and sat in the sun for hours on end. We'd get in our bathing sutis, walk outside in the blazing Texas sun and run around the yard for hours with no sunscreen in sight. The only protection we needed was our hands covering our peckers as we tried to jump over Willy.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Dallas Cowboys Training Camp
Today is a day I look forward to every year. I'm not talking about a birthday or a holiday. I'm talking about something much bigger, much better, much more exciting. Today is the day that I will watch a bunch of 21-35 year old men put on tights and beat the shit out of each other. I know it may sound like my usual Tuesday night ritual, but it's not. Today is the day I'm going to Oxnard, California to watch the Dallas Cowboys practice.
I currently live in Los Angeles but was born and bred in Dallas, Texas. Because of this, I'm a die hard Cowboys fan. Since I live about 1500 miles away from my hometown, it is quite difficult to see my favorite players in person on gameday, but lucky for me my hometown boys train in sunny Oxnard, CA. Oxnard is about an hour and a half from Los Angeles. This would obviously make it much easier to catch, in person, Tony Romo throwing interceptions to numerous receivers.
Growing up in the '90's in Dallas made it impossible to not love the Cowboys. They were the only sports team in the metroplex that had any kind of success - unless you count the Tatu era Dallas Sidekicks, and we won't. The Texas Rangers, at least on the days that Nolan Ryan wasn't pitching, were a joke. The Dallas Stars were the Minnesota North Stars. The Mavericks were 10 years away from the Mark Cuban/Dirk Nowitzki era - the only era in which a Jew and a German worked perfectly together on anything not called a Volkswagen.
The Cowboys were our city's only bright spot. Sure, we had Edie Brickel and the New Bohemians, but those stinky hippies had nothing on Jerry Jones and Jimmy Johnson. These were the glory years. Three Super Bowls in four years, constant playoff appearances, constant division winners, constant cocaine and hookers. The 1990 era Cowboys were the most explosive the thing the city of Dallas had every seen. Well, except for that one time in the 60's when the President got his head blown off.
The Cowboys in the '90's were full of great players. Charles Haley, Bill Bates, Leon Lett, Mark Stepnoski, Darren Woodsen, Nate Newton, Jim Jeffcoat. We even had fierce animal nicknames for Daryl "Moose" Johnston and Kenny "The Shark" Gant. I mean, come on, nobody's gonna mess with a moose and a shark. That would be crazy! The only thing more frightening than that is a Moose-sharknado, which is probably what the hookers at the "white house" called it when they were selected for a Daryl Johnston/Kenny Gant menage a trois.
The roster was full of stars but none could hold a candle to the Gods that were Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin and Emmit Smith. "The Triplets" were the true Kings of Dallas/Ft. Worth. They were the men that every woman wanted to be with and every man wanted to be. Their faces were plastered on billboards around town. The newspapers wrote about them every day. They couldn't leave the house without being mobbed. They were like the Beatles, except better, because there was no Ringo.
The thing I remember the most about "The Triplets" was their famous poster. Every person who lived in Dallas in the '90's knows exactly what poster I'm speaking of. It's an iconic shot of our city's biggest superheroes - Troy, Michael and Emmit - on the sidelines of Texas Stadium, facing away from the camera, arms around each other, looking out onto the field.
#8 Aikman
#88 Irvin
#22 Smith
Every kid has that "aha" moment where they realize the things they loved more than anything in life takes a backseat to their true passions. My "aha" moment came when the poster featuring the muscular asses of Troy, Michael and Emmit replaced the poster featuring the furry face of ALF on my bedroom wall.
Now we all know good and well that the Cowboys are not the same as they were back then. In the '90's, they were loved by the fans and feared by their opponents. Now they're laughed at by both. It used to be whenever I wore a Cowboys shirt, people would walk by and shout out, "GO COWBOYS!" Now when I wear a Cowboys shirt, people walk by and shout out, "GO CHANGE!"
I used to feel proud to be a Cowboys fan. Now I feel sad. So sad in fact, I've decided while writing this that I'm no longer going to training camp. Who wants to keep living in the past and remembering all those wonderfully glory days from many years ago? It's pathetic to think of days long past.
I currently live in Los Angeles but was born and bred in Dallas, Texas. Because of this, I'm a die hard Cowboys fan. Since I live about 1500 miles away from my hometown, it is quite difficult to see my favorite players in person on gameday, but lucky for me my hometown boys train in sunny Oxnard, CA. Oxnard is about an hour and a half from Los Angeles. This would obviously make it much easier to catch, in person, Tony Romo throwing interceptions to numerous receivers.
Growing up in the '90's in Dallas made it impossible to not love the Cowboys. They were the only sports team in the metroplex that had any kind of success - unless you count the Tatu era Dallas Sidekicks, and we won't. The Texas Rangers, at least on the days that Nolan Ryan wasn't pitching, were a joke. The Dallas Stars were the Minnesota North Stars. The Mavericks were 10 years away from the Mark Cuban/Dirk Nowitzki era - the only era in which a Jew and a German worked perfectly together on anything not called a Volkswagen.
The Cowboys were our city's only bright spot. Sure, we had Edie Brickel and the New Bohemians, but those stinky hippies had nothing on Jerry Jones and Jimmy Johnson. These were the glory years. Three Super Bowls in four years, constant playoff appearances, constant division winners, constant cocaine and hookers. The 1990 era Cowboys were the most explosive the thing the city of Dallas had every seen. Well, except for that one time in the 60's when the President got his head blown off.
The Cowboys in the '90's were full of great players. Charles Haley, Bill Bates, Leon Lett, Mark Stepnoski, Darren Woodsen, Nate Newton, Jim Jeffcoat. We even had fierce animal nicknames for Daryl "Moose" Johnston and Kenny "The Shark" Gant. I mean, come on, nobody's gonna mess with a moose and a shark. That would be crazy! The only thing more frightening than that is a Moose-sharknado, which is probably what the hookers at the "white house" called it when they were selected for a Daryl Johnston/Kenny Gant menage a trois.
The roster was full of stars but none could hold a candle to the Gods that were Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin and Emmit Smith. "The Triplets" were the true Kings of Dallas/Ft. Worth. They were the men that every woman wanted to be with and every man wanted to be. Their faces were plastered on billboards around town. The newspapers wrote about them every day. They couldn't leave the house without being mobbed. They were like the Beatles, except better, because there was no Ringo.
The thing I remember the most about "The Triplets" was their famous poster. Every person who lived in Dallas in the '90's knows exactly what poster I'm speaking of. It's an iconic shot of our city's biggest superheroes - Troy, Michael and Emmit - on the sidelines of Texas Stadium, facing away from the camera, arms around each other, looking out onto the field.
#8 Aikman
#88 Irvin
#22 Smith
Every kid has that "aha" moment where they realize the things they loved more than anything in life takes a backseat to their true passions. My "aha" moment came when the poster featuring the muscular asses of Troy, Michael and Emmit replaced the poster featuring the furry face of ALF on my bedroom wall.
Now we all know good and well that the Cowboys are not the same as they were back then. In the '90's, they were loved by the fans and feared by their opponents. Now they're laughed at by both. It used to be whenever I wore a Cowboys shirt, people would walk by and shout out, "GO COWBOYS!" Now when I wear a Cowboys shirt, people walk by and shout out, "GO CHANGE!"
I used to feel proud to be a Cowboys fan. Now I feel sad. So sad in fact, I've decided while writing this that I'm no longer going to training camp. Who wants to keep living in the past and remembering all those wonderfully glory days from many years ago? It's pathetic to think of days long past.
Now, if you excuse me, I have to go watch my VHS tape of the 1996 Super Bowl.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Happy Birthday to Me!
My birthday is July 21st, this coming Monday. I will be (insert lots of numerals here) years old. I have always loved birthdays, especially my own. Remember when you're a kid and your birthday is the greatest day of the year. Well, that, Christmas/Chanukkah or the day that your camp takes a trip to Six Flags.
As you get older, the magic of a birthday isn't the same. You start to mature and realize that celebrating your birthday might make you seem like a douche. Hell, I still love my birthday but it really is a douchey thing to send an e-vite telling your friends to meet at a bar that you would never go to if it wasn't your bday and have them buy you drinks. Last year, I went to a bar that I have only been to once... five years ago on my birthday.
I totally understand how a birthday isn't a big deal anymore. As a child, it's one of the only things you have to look forward to every year. As you get older, there are lots of exciting things to look forward to - pay day, vacations, quality time with the girlfriend and dogs, the new Woody Allen movie - all the great things in life.
As you grow up, a birthday is just "another day." When I was younger, a couple friends of mine and I wrote a terrible screenplay about a man who is depressed about his upcoming birthday and decides to live the day like he's a kid again. He leaves work, plays miniature golf, drives a corvette, orders the biggest sundae you've ever seen at a fancy restaurant and finally asks the girl out that he's been pining for his whole adult life. There's also scenes where he reconnects with his brother, has weird flashbacks about the shoes his father used to wear and has a come to Jesus moment while on a golf course with Robert Loggia.
The point of that movie was supposed to have you look at your birthday in the same way you did as a kid. Take advantage of the one day a year that is solely for you. There is no other day where that happens. Your birthday is you and you alone. You have to share Christmas/Chanukkah, Valentine's Day, Fathers Day/Mothers Day, Secretaries Day, New Years, Halloween, Thanksgiving, MLK day, Simchat Torah, 4th of July, Boxing Day, The Super Bowl, The Oscars, Labor Day, Memorial Day and the day the new Iphone comes out.
I can't do something big for my birthday every year, I know this. This year, I'm going to take it easy - make some dinner at home with my lady, open a nice bottle of wine that we labeled 07-21-14, watch a movie, cuddle on the couch with the dogs, and listen to my girlfriend fake snore when I attempt to make out with her.
Taking it easy on my bday might be a sign of things to come. Maybe I'm maturing and realizing that I don't need to go all out every July 21st? Maybe I'm just done with the hassle of planning and executing the "great day of birth?" Maybe I'm like Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon franchise and am "getting too old for this shit?" Maybe, nowadays, the most fun thing I can do is be with my girlfriends and the dogs watching movies instead of bumping elbows with strangers in a crowded bar? Maybe it's because I need to rest my old bones for the huge Las Vegas party I'm already starting to plan for next year's birthday? Yeah, that's it.
As you get older, the magic of a birthday isn't the same. You start to mature and realize that celebrating your birthday might make you seem like a douche. Hell, I still love my birthday but it really is a douchey thing to send an e-vite telling your friends to meet at a bar that you would never go to if it wasn't your bday and have them buy you drinks. Last year, I went to a bar that I have only been to once... five years ago on my birthday.
I totally understand how a birthday isn't a big deal anymore. As a child, it's one of the only things you have to look forward to every year. As you get older, there are lots of exciting things to look forward to - pay day, vacations, quality time with the girlfriend and dogs, the new Woody Allen movie - all the great things in life.
As you grow up, a birthday is just "another day." When I was younger, a couple friends of mine and I wrote a terrible screenplay about a man who is depressed about his upcoming birthday and decides to live the day like he's a kid again. He leaves work, plays miniature golf, drives a corvette, orders the biggest sundae you've ever seen at a fancy restaurant and finally asks the girl out that he's been pining for his whole adult life. There's also scenes where he reconnects with his brother, has weird flashbacks about the shoes his father used to wear and has a come to Jesus moment while on a golf course with Robert Loggia.
The point of that movie was supposed to have you look at your birthday in the same way you did as a kid. Take advantage of the one day a year that is solely for you. There is no other day where that happens. Your birthday is you and you alone. You have to share Christmas/Chanukkah, Valentine's Day, Fathers Day/Mothers Day, Secretaries Day, New Years, Halloween, Thanksgiving, MLK day, Simchat Torah, 4th of July, Boxing Day, The Super Bowl, The Oscars, Labor Day, Memorial Day and the day the new Iphone comes out.
I can't do something big for my birthday every year, I know this. This year, I'm going to take it easy - make some dinner at home with my lady, open a nice bottle of wine that we labeled 07-21-14, watch a movie, cuddle on the couch with the dogs, and listen to my girlfriend fake snore when I attempt to make out with her.
Taking it easy on my bday might be a sign of things to come. Maybe I'm maturing and realizing that I don't need to go all out every July 21st? Maybe I'm just done with the hassle of planning and executing the "great day of birth?" Maybe I'm like Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon franchise and am "getting too old for this shit?" Maybe, nowadays, the most fun thing I can do is be with my girlfriends and the dogs watching movies instead of bumping elbows with strangers in a crowded bar? Maybe it's because I need to rest my old bones for the huge Las Vegas party I'm already starting to plan for next year's birthday? Yeah, that's it.
Friday, June 27, 2014
Fridays Off
I recently started a new job and it's been great. The work is challenging, the people are nice and the best part... it's only four days a week! Even better than that, it pays better than my last job, and is one less day a week. Win/Win! The coolest part about having a "free" day weekly is all the stuff I'm able to get done on my off day. I can write, set up appointments, have lunch with friends, spend quality time with the dogs, clean the apartment - the possibilities are endless. So endless, in fact, that I wind up doing the exact same thing every Friday... Nothing!
Now, it's not like I'm waking up super late or staying in bed and sleeping the day away. I'm getting up early with my girlfriend to walk the dogs. She, like most other people in the world, go to work on Fridays - what suckers! We wake up around 6:30 AM and take the dogs for a mile and a half. Yeah, that's right - 6:30 AM! What are we, farmers?! And you read that correctly, a mile and a half! That's like a full marathon! What are we, Kenyans?!
We get back a little after 7 AM and then it's a great start to the day - A cup of coffee and internet browsing. I check email, fantasy baseball scores, news of the day and, of course, have to check what celebrities kicked the bucket in the middle of the night. I like to stay up to date with my celebrity dead pool. So far this year I've received points because Sid Caesar and Casey Kasem took a dirt nap. I'm currently in 4th place but if Jenna Jameson goes six feet under, I'll jump up to 1st. And because she's a famous porn star, I should clarify the last sentence. I did say six feet under, not under six feet.
While I'm drinking my coffee and screwing around on the world wide web, I have lofty goals. I say to myself, "Once I finish this cup of joe, I'm going to get so much work done." The problem is once I finish a cup of coffee, I start realizing that I should actually do something worthwhile. The problem with that is I don't want to do anything. The solution to that is to make another cup of coffee. I did say to myself that I would work as soon as I finish my cup of coffee, but I never said after my first cup. The way I look at it, I can make pot after pot of coffee and I'd never have to do anything. Well, I'd have to do at least one thing, and that would be to clean up all the diarrhea I've expelled after drinking a half gallon of coffee.
I do wind up drinking a lot of coffee on these Fridays but the weird part is, I don't like the taste of coffee. I do very much like the taste of sugar and milk though so really my coffee is pretty much equal parts sugar/milk/coffee. Why drink it, you ask? Because it seems like the thing you're supposed to do. I like having caffeine in the morning but the thought of drinking a Jolt Cola right after the sun comes up doesn't appeal to me. The "adult" thing to do is to drink coffee and I'm a full fledged grown man. It shouldn't matter that I like my coffee like I like my women... Sweet, decadent and the ability to put me in a diabetic coma.
It's not like I waste my entire day doing nothing. After partaking in seventeen Buzzfeed quiz's asking, "What vegetable side dish are you?," I hit up the living room and watch whatever late night talk shows I DVR'd earlier in the week. Sometimes I get lucky with a Don Rickles or Steve Martin appearance. Most of the time I get confused as to why I set my DVR to record Tom Green on Craig Ferguson. First of all, why is Tom Green on a talk show and second of all, how the hell did Craig Ferguson get a show? I ponder questions like this as I slip into a sugar crash induced slumber.
When I wake up five hours later, I'm reminded of all the things I was supposed to get done on my day off. Clean the apartment, do some laundry and wash some dishes. Seems like a very simple thing to do with all the free time I have. You know what, I'm going to take care of that right this second... Actually, maybe I'll wait a little while. After all, there is a new quiz I can take that will let me know, "What 1990's failed TV Show are you?"... Oh, I hope I get Cop Rock!
Now, it's not like I'm waking up super late or staying in bed and sleeping the day away. I'm getting up early with my girlfriend to walk the dogs. She, like most other people in the world, go to work on Fridays - what suckers! We wake up around 6:30 AM and take the dogs for a mile and a half. Yeah, that's right - 6:30 AM! What are we, farmers?! And you read that correctly, a mile and a half! That's like a full marathon! What are we, Kenyans?!
We get back a little after 7 AM and then it's a great start to the day - A cup of coffee and internet browsing. I check email, fantasy baseball scores, news of the day and, of course, have to check what celebrities kicked the bucket in the middle of the night. I like to stay up to date with my celebrity dead pool. So far this year I've received points because Sid Caesar and Casey Kasem took a dirt nap. I'm currently in 4th place but if Jenna Jameson goes six feet under, I'll jump up to 1st. And because she's a famous porn star, I should clarify the last sentence. I did say six feet under, not under six feet.
While I'm drinking my coffee and screwing around on the world wide web, I have lofty goals. I say to myself, "Once I finish this cup of joe, I'm going to get so much work done." The problem is once I finish a cup of coffee, I start realizing that I should actually do something worthwhile. The problem with that is I don't want to do anything. The solution to that is to make another cup of coffee. I did say to myself that I would work as soon as I finish my cup of coffee, but I never said after my first cup. The way I look at it, I can make pot after pot of coffee and I'd never have to do anything. Well, I'd have to do at least one thing, and that would be to clean up all the diarrhea I've expelled after drinking a half gallon of coffee.
I do wind up drinking a lot of coffee on these Fridays but the weird part is, I don't like the taste of coffee. I do very much like the taste of sugar and milk though so really my coffee is pretty much equal parts sugar/milk/coffee. Why drink it, you ask? Because it seems like the thing you're supposed to do. I like having caffeine in the morning but the thought of drinking a Jolt Cola right after the sun comes up doesn't appeal to me. The "adult" thing to do is to drink coffee and I'm a full fledged grown man. It shouldn't matter that I like my coffee like I like my women... Sweet, decadent and the ability to put me in a diabetic coma.
It's not like I waste my entire day doing nothing. After partaking in seventeen Buzzfeed quiz's asking, "What vegetable side dish are you?," I hit up the living room and watch whatever late night talk shows I DVR'd earlier in the week. Sometimes I get lucky with a Don Rickles or Steve Martin appearance. Most of the time I get confused as to why I set my DVR to record Tom Green on Craig Ferguson. First of all, why is Tom Green on a talk show and second of all, how the hell did Craig Ferguson get a show? I ponder questions like this as I slip into a sugar crash induced slumber.
When I wake up five hours later, I'm reminded of all the things I was supposed to get done on my day off. Clean the apartment, do some laundry and wash some dishes. Seems like a very simple thing to do with all the free time I have. You know what, I'm going to take care of that right this second... Actually, maybe I'll wait a little while. After all, there is a new quiz I can take that will let me know, "What 1990's failed TV Show are you?"... Oh, I hope I get Cop Rock!
Friday, June 20, 2014
The Bored Cup
Every four years, something happens that unites even the strangest of strangers. It's an event that transcends languages and dialects. It brings everyone together despite geography, cultures and religions. I'm, of course, talking about U2 albums but the same can be said about the World Cup. The World Cup is the Olympics if the Olympics only had one sport that Americans are bad at and using your hands is a no-no. In that way, the World Cup is very similar to my sex life.
The World Cup is just one big ol' month of soccer. Actually, it's just one big ol' month of futbol. There's a weird thing happening where some countries call it futbol and others call it soccer. I understand that here in America it's called Soccer because we already have football. This doesn't make sense because football is played with hands. We can't call it handball though, because there's already a sport called handball which is racquetball without a racket. What's the different between a racket and a racquet? A "q." What's the difference between Daniel Craig and every other James Bond? Different "Q's."
Everybody makes a big deal out of the World Cup. People analyze every matchup, every player, every time slot. Fans "ooh" and "ahh" with every kick. Viewers yell at the screen when someone fakes a brutal injury. Now I understand that The World Cup is a big deal and the matches are intense and climactic, but it's normally two hours that result in 3 scores. If you're watching 2 hours of basketball, there will be more scoring than Leonardo DiCaprio at the Victoria Secret's Fashion Show.
As much as soccer (futbol) bores me, I'll still watch when the USA takes the field. Maybe it's American pride, maybe it's the thrill of competition, maybe it's because there's nothing else to do on a Sunday in June. If I'm going to watch though, I'd rather watch in a bar. Same thing can be said about the NBA All-Star game, opening weekend of NFL Football, and a 22 minute video of buff men in tighty-whiteys doing push-ups. (I once spent happy hour in the Castro section of San Francisco.)
I know that I want the USA to win. I also know that the USA has no chance to win. Soccer (futbol) is one of the few organized sports that the USA doesn't excel at. We kick ass in basketball, swimming, gymnastics, track and field, baseball, football, skiing, skating, snowboarding, skateboarding and waterboarding. Once the USA is out of the tournament I just don't care. That is unless the Germany team is still in it and I can go against them. I can cheer for Germany to lose The World Cup for a couple great reasons.
1) What they did to Jews in World War II.
2) Dirk Nowitzki doesn't play soccer.
I probably will watch a few non USA matches and I probably will appreciate the athleticism, determination and intensity of the players. The greatest athletes in the world are soccer (futbol) players. They run the equivalent of a marathon in 120 minutes. All over the world they are revered as Gods among men. They have cool names like Pele and Ronaldo. I should like soccer (futbol) but I find it difficult to enjoy. Maybe it's because I wasn't very good at it as a kid. Maybe because when I was growing up there weren't any professional soccer teams to cheer for. Maybe it's because I like to use my hands more than Helen Keller did. There are many reasons that I don't like soccer (futbol), but I think the main one has got to be that everytime I write the word soccer (futbol), I have to use parenthesis. I'd never have to do that with basketball (basquetball) or football (succor).
The World Cup is just one big ol' month of soccer. Actually, it's just one big ol' month of futbol. There's a weird thing happening where some countries call it futbol and others call it soccer. I understand that here in America it's called Soccer because we already have football. This doesn't make sense because football is played with hands. We can't call it handball though, because there's already a sport called handball which is racquetball without a racket. What's the different between a racket and a racquet? A "q." What's the difference between Daniel Craig and every other James Bond? Different "Q's."
Everybody makes a big deal out of the World Cup. People analyze every matchup, every player, every time slot. Fans "ooh" and "ahh" with every kick. Viewers yell at the screen when someone fakes a brutal injury. Now I understand that The World Cup is a big deal and the matches are intense and climactic, but it's normally two hours that result in 3 scores. If you're watching 2 hours of basketball, there will be more scoring than Leonardo DiCaprio at the Victoria Secret's Fashion Show.
As much as soccer (futbol) bores me, I'll still watch when the USA takes the field. Maybe it's American pride, maybe it's the thrill of competition, maybe it's because there's nothing else to do on a Sunday in June. If I'm going to watch though, I'd rather watch in a bar. Same thing can be said about the NBA All-Star game, opening weekend of NFL Football, and a 22 minute video of buff men in tighty-whiteys doing push-ups. (I once spent happy hour in the Castro section of San Francisco.)
I know that I want the USA to win. I also know that the USA has no chance to win. Soccer (futbol) is one of the few organized sports that the USA doesn't excel at. We kick ass in basketball, swimming, gymnastics, track and field, baseball, football, skiing, skating, snowboarding, skateboarding and waterboarding. Once the USA is out of the tournament I just don't care. That is unless the Germany team is still in it and I can go against them. I can cheer for Germany to lose The World Cup for a couple great reasons.
1) What they did to Jews in World War II.
2) Dirk Nowitzki doesn't play soccer.
I probably will watch a few non USA matches and I probably will appreciate the athleticism, determination and intensity of the players. The greatest athletes in the world are soccer (futbol) players. They run the equivalent of a marathon in 120 minutes. All over the world they are revered as Gods among men. They have cool names like Pele and Ronaldo. I should like soccer (futbol) but I find it difficult to enjoy. Maybe it's because I wasn't very good at it as a kid. Maybe because when I was growing up there weren't any professional soccer teams to cheer for. Maybe it's because I like to use my hands more than Helen Keller did. There are many reasons that I don't like soccer (futbol), but I think the main one has got to be that everytime I write the word soccer (futbol), I have to use parenthesis. I'd never have to do that with basketball (basquetball) or football (succor).
Friday, June 6, 2014
When the girlfriend's away...
My lady just celebrated her birthday. I'm sure it was a lovely day for her. For starters, she had to get up at 4 AM, so she could take a four and a half hour long plane ride from Los Angeles to Nashville. She then got to celebrate her day of birth by working till midnight. This might all sound pretty bad on a normal day, let alone your bday, but she did have one positive thing going for her on this magical day. She didn't have to spend it with me. Now, I'm sure she loves me, and I know I love her, but everyone deserves a spousal break every now and then... especially her.
She got to celebrate her birthday without me, but she was surrounded by co-workers, put up in a nice hotel, given a per diem, and got to experience the culture of one of the coolest cities in the United States, Nashville. I, on the other hand, got to hang out all by myself with two needy dogs and DVR filled with crap that I've been putting off for just this occasion. There are many fun things I can do while the GF is away, and only a couple of them include touching my own penis.
For starters, I can eat donuts for breakfast! If I had my way I'd eat donuts for breakfast every day, and probably lunch and dinner as well. When my lady is around, I can have a donut every now and then, but would have to hide the evidence if I ate them more than once every few months. This week, I can let my freaky donut flag fly by popping those little buggers in my mouth the way Homer Simpson would after coming off the Atkins diet.
Another cool thing I can do when she's not around is watch afternoon baseball. When I'm "working" from home and decide to take a three hour break to watch the Rangers, Rays or Twins lose (this happens a lot this season), my girlfriend doesn't like that. When she gets home from a hard day of actual work and finds me sitting on the couch and screaming at a left fielder to "dive for the fucking ball" it makes her a tad angry. If she's going to slave away all day to bring home the bacon, the least I can do is pretend to help out. Now matter how many strikeouts Yu Darvish gets in a game, it still won't help me find a job. It might get me 70 bucks in my fantasy league though.
Speaking of that, I can be on my fantasy baseball site all day. I don't have to click away to job board sites every time my GF walks by the room. This week I've proposed 6 trades, add/dropped 4 players, changed my lineup every 18 minutes, and read about 1600 blogs on which starting pitchers are destined to have Tommy John surgery in the next 3 weeks. By the way, if Mark Teixeira gets another home run while riding my bench, I'm going to set my computer on fire.
One more advantage of my little princess leaving me by my lonesome is that I don't have to keep up with my set of household chores. The bed will not be made every morning, the dishes will not be washed, the pillows and blankets will not be put away, the laundry will not be laundered and my stinky body will not be showered. In fact, I don't have to shower for a week if I don't want to. The only time I'm showering in the first place is when I have someplace to go. When she's away, I never have to go anywhere. I can watch Arnold Schwarzenegger movies and wallow in my own filth for six straight days.
Now don't get me wrong, I love my girlfriend and would do anything for her, but when she's not around there's nothing she needs me to do. Right now there's only one thing that needs to be done... Bring on another dozen of glazed twists!!!
She got to celebrate her birthday without me, but she was surrounded by co-workers, put up in a nice hotel, given a per diem, and got to experience the culture of one of the coolest cities in the United States, Nashville. I, on the other hand, got to hang out all by myself with two needy dogs and DVR filled with crap that I've been putting off for just this occasion. There are many fun things I can do while the GF is away, and only a couple of them include touching my own penis.
For starters, I can eat donuts for breakfast! If I had my way I'd eat donuts for breakfast every day, and probably lunch and dinner as well. When my lady is around, I can have a donut every now and then, but would have to hide the evidence if I ate them more than once every few months. This week, I can let my freaky donut flag fly by popping those little buggers in my mouth the way Homer Simpson would after coming off the Atkins diet.
Another cool thing I can do when she's not around is watch afternoon baseball. When I'm "working" from home and decide to take a three hour break to watch the Rangers, Rays or Twins lose (this happens a lot this season), my girlfriend doesn't like that. When she gets home from a hard day of actual work and finds me sitting on the couch and screaming at a left fielder to "dive for the fucking ball" it makes her a tad angry. If she's going to slave away all day to bring home the bacon, the least I can do is pretend to help out. Now matter how many strikeouts Yu Darvish gets in a game, it still won't help me find a job. It might get me 70 bucks in my fantasy league though.
Speaking of that, I can be on my fantasy baseball site all day. I don't have to click away to job board sites every time my GF walks by the room. This week I've proposed 6 trades, add/dropped 4 players, changed my lineup every 18 minutes, and read about 1600 blogs on which starting pitchers are destined to have Tommy John surgery in the next 3 weeks. By the way, if Mark Teixeira gets another home run while riding my bench, I'm going to set my computer on fire.
One more advantage of my little princess leaving me by my lonesome is that I don't have to keep up with my set of household chores. The bed will not be made every morning, the dishes will not be washed, the pillows and blankets will not be put away, the laundry will not be laundered and my stinky body will not be showered. In fact, I don't have to shower for a week if I don't want to. The only time I'm showering in the first place is when I have someplace to go. When she's away, I never have to go anywhere. I can watch Arnold Schwarzenegger movies and wallow in my own filth for six straight days.
Now don't get me wrong, I love my girlfriend and would do anything for her, but when she's not around there's nothing she needs me to do. Right now there's only one thing that needs to be done... Bring on another dozen of glazed twists!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)