I have recently become aware that people lie. And by lie, I mean say things absurdly untrue. We all tell little white lies, or perhaps embellish stories a little for dramatic effect. What would life be without a little sensationalism, right? But that is not what I am referring to. I am referring to the people who claim to be best friends with Paris Hilton, have chopped down a redwood with their bare hands, or have visited all 50 states...on foot. Not that those things aren't true for some people, but only a very few, and it's highly unlikely that they are all true...for one person...who lives in Mesa.
It would be like saying "Did you know I was married to Brad Pitt? Ok, well not Brad Pitt, but his name was Brad, well, not Brad, but his name started with a B, and we weren't really married, he just offered to fix my windshield at the car wash." So what is the point of telling such tall tales? It doesn't impress me, well, except for the amount of creativity used to create such preposterous stories, kudos on that, but anyone can deduct that you are lying. Especially when your alleged physical feats are impossible with your physical frame. So if you're built like Roseanne, don't claim to run like a Kenyan. It's just not believable, and serves no purpose other than to make me laugh. So if you are one of these people, stop. Because we aren't laughing with you.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Save the Environment?
What you really mean is save my environment. As oil prices keep increasing, I have noticed a considerable increase in "Save the Planet" propaganda. But when you think about it the message these tree huggers are really conveying is save the human race. So what if we continue to produce green house gases and consume natural resources? What's going to happen? Well its theorized that the polar ice caps will melt and send the planet into another ice age ending life as we know it. Yes, I said another ice age and life as we know it. It's not like the planet hasn't experienced and survived such climatic tragedies before. In fact, it's probably just Mother Earth's immune system reaction to kill off the surface level virus that is causing the problems in the first place. Bacteria can't survive in extremely cold temperatures, and neither can we. So is it really that unthinkable that the planet would use the same sterilization method on us that we use on other disease spreading nuisances?
If these so called "environmentalists" really wanted to save the planet, instead of promoting recycling, they would be chopping down the rainforests to make wicker furniture for their backyard bonfires held in celebration of an oil spill. That would help accelerate the self preservation mechanism the planet has already initiated, and kill off us waste producing humans much quicker.
But that is not the intent of their message. What they're trying to say is, find alternative sources of energy to power my Prius and please don't pollute the soil that my organic beefsteak tomatoes grown in. Not that there is anything wrong with that message, but don't disguise your cry to save humanity as a selfless environmental act. Because in all honesty, the environment would be a lot better off with out us.
If these so called "environmentalists" really wanted to save the planet, instead of promoting recycling, they would be chopping down the rainforests to make wicker furniture for their backyard bonfires held in celebration of an oil spill. That would help accelerate the self preservation mechanism the planet has already initiated, and kill off us waste producing humans much quicker.
But that is not the intent of their message. What they're trying to say is, find alternative sources of energy to power my Prius and please don't pollute the soil that my organic beefsteak tomatoes grown in. Not that there is anything wrong with that message, but don't disguise your cry to save humanity as a selfless environmental act. Because in all honesty, the environment would be a lot better off with out us.
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Self Check Out Conundrum
I love self check out. Its one of my favorite inventions of the past 20 years, well, next to wireless internet and Easy Mac. Its perfect for buying those things you hate to buy with some much needed anonimity...in theory at least.
Why is it that when I'm buying Head and Sholders Shampoo, femine products, clinical strength deodorant and two jars of cheese dip, there's always some attractive guy behind me buying steak, dog food and import beer? In my fantasy world the guy would be browsing the latest Britney disaster in the current issue of Us Weekly, but we all know you watch the person in front of you check out...and that guys could care less about celeb gossip. Couldn't he at least be buying some Rogaine or "tiny guy" condoms or wart remover? Something? Anything? That, or could they please designate male and female check out lines, so at least the shopper behind me is buying 32 cans of cat food and a case of Ensure.
Its a shame such a great technological advancement makes me want to make a women's rights regression.
Fortunately, I have a man that loves me despite my snow caps, my perspiration, and my unexplainable love for cheese. But from now on, you will only see me in the self check out line after 11pm. Better safe than blushing.
Why is it that when I'm buying Head and Sholders Shampoo, femine products, clinical strength deodorant and two jars of cheese dip, there's always some attractive guy behind me buying steak, dog food and import beer? In my fantasy world the guy would be browsing the latest Britney disaster in the current issue of Us Weekly, but we all know you watch the person in front of you check out...and that guys could care less about celeb gossip. Couldn't he at least be buying some Rogaine or "tiny guy" condoms or wart remover? Something? Anything? That, or could they please designate male and female check out lines, so at least the shopper behind me is buying 32 cans of cat food and a case of Ensure.
Its a shame such a great technological advancement makes me want to make a women's rights regression.
Fortunately, I have a man that loves me despite my snow caps, my perspiration, and my unexplainable love for cheese. But from now on, you will only see me in the self check out line after 11pm. Better safe than blushing.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Thou shall not kill...
but what if it was an accident and a lightening fast rodent destined to end its own life? Here's the scenario.
As I am leaving for work this morning, I approach the intersection of Cactus and 36th, and in my peripheral vision I see a squirrel at the side of the road. He's crouched at like that of an Olympic sprinter, beady eyes locked on mine, he's in that position that screams "I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go". Anticipating my furry friend to dart out any moment I begin to slow down, and then THUMP. The experience was so traumatic I can barely remember anything, but he must have given me some indication of movement, because I slammed on my brakes. I guess my cat like reflexes are more closely matched to that of a baby giraffe, and thus that Paradise Valley squirrel met it's fate.
But the question remains...is eternal damnation still a fitting punishment? Do the Ten Commandments have an accidental death clause, or a human-only loop hole? Perhaps I was not at fault. Perhaps that squirrel was in great pain and begging for a way out, and chose my front left tire as its weapon of choice. Or perhaps my clumsy reflexes have caused great squirrel anguish across America. Regardless, please say some Hail Mary's for me and my tainted soul, so I won't be condemned to fiery wrath of Hell...well, at least not for this sin anyway :-)
As I am leaving for work this morning, I approach the intersection of Cactus and 36th, and in my peripheral vision I see a squirrel at the side of the road. He's crouched at like that of an Olympic sprinter, beady eyes locked on mine, he's in that position that screams "I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go, I'm gonna go". Anticipating my furry friend to dart out any moment I begin to slow down, and then THUMP. The experience was so traumatic I can barely remember anything, but he must have given me some indication of movement, because I slammed on my brakes. I guess my cat like reflexes are more closely matched to that of a baby giraffe, and thus that Paradise Valley squirrel met it's fate.
But the question remains...is eternal damnation still a fitting punishment? Do the Ten Commandments have an accidental death clause, or a human-only loop hole? Perhaps I was not at fault. Perhaps that squirrel was in great pain and begging for a way out, and chose my front left tire as its weapon of choice. Or perhaps my clumsy reflexes have caused great squirrel anguish across America. Regardless, please say some Hail Mary's for me and my tainted soul, so I won't be condemned to fiery wrath of Hell...well, at least not for this sin anyway :-)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Mr. Personality
Everyone appreciates a good sense of humor, sharp wit, or even some admirable but failed attempts at being funny (sorry Mare). But some people are just not blessed with such social graces, and for Christ's sake, shouldn't attempt to be something they are not. These people often include Civil War historians, Dungeons and Dragons enthusiasts, accountants (except for me, of course), and most definitely our waiter from Saturday night. Our first interaction went something like this:
Waiter: What's poppin'? Can I get you guys something to suck on?
Paul: Coffee and a water
Waiter: Sure thing Captain
Me: Margarita on the rocks
Waiter: No doubt!
Jeremy: Miller Lite
Waiter: You got it Champ!
As he scurried away in his cloud of douche-baggery, we all stared, dumbfounded at each other. I understand his job requires human interaction, but this was a reputable restaurant. Can't one of his co-workers please stop laughing at him long enough to give him a little friendly advice?
"Suck on"? Who says that to a predominately male table without expecting to get a straight fork to the eye? And "no doubt"? No, there is no doubt, that's what I want to drink…that's why I ordered it. Captain? Champ? Unless our food is being delivered by one of the electronic puppets from Pirates of the Caribbean, there are hundreds of more acceptable pronouns to use with perfect strangers. I am not your frat buddy, I am not your eight year old cousin, I am a paying customer trying to enjoy my Saturday night, so save the recycled one-liners for someone who will pretend to care.
Now if this was some tactic he picked up in a Marriott ballroom seminar entitled "Higher Tabs Equal Higher Tips" as a method to increase alcohol sales, then I commend you Captain Catch Phrase. Because it took a minimum of two top-shelf margaritas to take the edge off your borrowed personality.
Perhaps I am being too harsh. Perhaps I am just accustomed to being surrounded by intelligent, interesting and entertaining people. And perhaps by your late twenties, living in a highly critical town where nothing less than perfection is acceptable, you would have learned to be witty, be profound, or shut the fuck up.
Waiter: What's poppin'? Can I get you guys something to suck on?
Paul: Coffee and a water
Waiter: Sure thing Captain
Me: Margarita on the rocks
Waiter: No doubt!
Jeremy: Miller Lite
Waiter: You got it Champ!
As he scurried away in his cloud of douche-baggery, we all stared, dumbfounded at each other. I understand his job requires human interaction, but this was a reputable restaurant. Can't one of his co-workers please stop laughing at him long enough to give him a little friendly advice?
"Suck on"? Who says that to a predominately male table without expecting to get a straight fork to the eye? And "no doubt"? No, there is no doubt, that's what I want to drink…that's why I ordered it. Captain? Champ? Unless our food is being delivered by one of the electronic puppets from Pirates of the Caribbean, there are hundreds of more acceptable pronouns to use with perfect strangers. I am not your frat buddy, I am not your eight year old cousin, I am a paying customer trying to enjoy my Saturday night, so save the recycled one-liners for someone who will pretend to care.
Now if this was some tactic he picked up in a Marriott ballroom seminar entitled "Higher Tabs Equal Higher Tips" as a method to increase alcohol sales, then I commend you Captain Catch Phrase. Because it took a minimum of two top-shelf margaritas to take the edge off your borrowed personality.
Perhaps I am being too harsh. Perhaps I am just accustomed to being surrounded by intelligent, interesting and entertaining people. And perhaps by your late twenties, living in a highly critical town where nothing less than perfection is acceptable, you would have learned to be witty, be profound, or shut the fuck up.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Why 2 for 1 Marketing Won't Work on Me
Can someone please explain to me men and their obsession with threesomes? Honestly, I fail to see the appeal in them whatsoever. You are only one man, and only have one penis, so it seems that two women would mathematically be one too many.
Having a threesome would be like trying to play tetherball with three players. There are really only two possible outcomes. Either you play one on one, while someone waits their turn. Or you play one on two, and the doubles team has to jockey with each other to get a chance to whack the ball a little. Do we really need to revisit the playground cat fights that we intentionally left in middle-school?
Now I usually try not to form an opinion on something unless I have had first hand experience, but I have yet to hear a convincing argument. It would appear that the only appeal of the threesome is bragging rights for the male, because as I stated earlier, you only have one penis and I have honestly never heard a “positive” threesome experience told from a woman’s point of view. If bragging rights are really the only motivator, then can’t you just go back to revving your engine at stop lights, talking smack to men half your size, and crushing cans of Miller High Life on your forehead?
Highly unlikely…I know. But if I can save just one man from this vicious fascination, then the world will be a better place.
Having a threesome would be like trying to play tetherball with three players. There are really only two possible outcomes. Either you play one on one, while someone waits their turn. Or you play one on two, and the doubles team has to jockey with each other to get a chance to whack the ball a little. Do we really need to revisit the playground cat fights that we intentionally left in middle-school?
Now I usually try not to form an opinion on something unless I have had first hand experience, but I have yet to hear a convincing argument. It would appear that the only appeal of the threesome is bragging rights for the male, because as I stated earlier, you only have one penis and I have honestly never heard a “positive” threesome experience told from a woman’s point of view. If bragging rights are really the only motivator, then can’t you just go back to revving your engine at stop lights, talking smack to men half your size, and crushing cans of Miller High Life on your forehead?
Highly unlikely…I know. But if I can save just one man from this vicious fascination, then the world will be a better place.
Hi, my name is...
In my experience, people who have to define themselves usually do a piss poor job at it. Let me give you an example.
The “Original” Matt D. First of all, the word original implies being the first at something, and I highly doubt you were the first halfwit graced with such a unique name. Second, if you have to explicitly state that you are original, you clearly have not done a very good job at standing out from the crowd. If someone says “Hey, you know Matt D?” and the response is something like “Matt D who?”, adding the additional description “you know, the Original Matt D” not only is a contradiction in terms, but makes you and whomever speaks it incur a 50 IQ point penalty. No arguing, you have now made yourself and your acquaintances drop a few levels in the intellectual food chain.
And to be fair, the same applies for females. Like Miss J “The sweetest girl”. If you have to start your own campaign and spam me with propaganda about how you are so damn sweet, you obviously are trying to hedge some equally negative impressions of you that might be floating around. Stop trying to be the Associated Press and let people gather the facts, and make their own assessment of what kind of person you are. Anyone (at least anyone who matters) will do so anyways, and you are only shooting yourself in the foot with such shameless self promotion.
A douche bag by any other name is still a douche bag, so stop misrepresenting yourself and actually act like a person worth of remembering.
The “Original” Matt D. First of all, the word original implies being the first at something, and I highly doubt you were the first halfwit graced with such a unique name. Second, if you have to explicitly state that you are original, you clearly have not done a very good job at standing out from the crowd. If someone says “Hey, you know Matt D?” and the response is something like “Matt D who?”, adding the additional description “you know, the Original Matt D” not only is a contradiction in terms, but makes you and whomever speaks it incur a 50 IQ point penalty. No arguing, you have now made yourself and your acquaintances drop a few levels in the intellectual food chain.
And to be fair, the same applies for females. Like Miss J “The sweetest girl”. If you have to start your own campaign and spam me with propaganda about how you are so damn sweet, you obviously are trying to hedge some equally negative impressions of you that might be floating around. Stop trying to be the Associated Press and let people gather the facts, and make their own assessment of what kind of person you are. Anyone (at least anyone who matters) will do so anyways, and you are only shooting yourself in the foot with such shameless self promotion.
A douche bag by any other name is still a douche bag, so stop misrepresenting yourself and actually act like a person worth of remembering.
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