Post by Arsen Goodstone on Dec 4, 2019 20:06:23 GMT -5
So recently I've been trying my hand at standup comedy. I've always wanted to, and a good friend of mine Cliff threw me a party with a bunch of people there and made me go up on stage. It went pretty well, all things considered, but I'd like some feedback from impartial listeners. Keep in mind, these paragraphs are much more wordy than the way I'd present it on stage as my finger move a lot faster than my mouth does and flows better onto paper/screen. Mind telling me what you guys think of the set I did? Because I'm doing another one on Saturday and if this one goes well, I'm going to put together the best jokes and go out and give it a shot on an open mic. Thanks guys!
So thank you all for being here. Thank you to Ashley and Cliff for pressuring me to do this, because it's been a long time coming. But let me commend myself first and foremost for my bravery. Not for following my dream, because everyone does that and fails. I deserve credit for doing something that Clifford planned. Can we agree on how that sounds like a bad idea, on and off paper? All I could think about coming over here was it was a setup. Tell some jokes, Duddy...just kidding. This is an intervention.
Or a setup somehow, because he'd get a huge fucking kick out of it. I had a daydream of some goop falling from the ceiilng and everyone pointing and laughing, and then it played out like I was Carrie. But I'm not violent, so it'd just be sad. All right. Let's do this.
One uppers. Yep, that's something else I hate. I think everyone else hates them too but I think my hatred is WAY more intense than theirs.
That's it for that one.
I lost my dick at Flagship Cinemas.
Right, so, this is like...2003 we're talking about. Maybe earlier, but probably not. I didn't start smoking pot until Freshman year, which was...2001, I think? I think so, but let's just call it that. I smoked out of a Mountain Dew can out back of my friends house and we rode our bikes to the only store nearby in Leeds, a few miles away, and we each got ten dollars worth of little debby snacks. Then, I was trying to be polite, I asked for a fucking BAG, please, for my near-dozen pastries. Like I assumed the cashier thought I could juggle.
I don't smoke very often anymore man, but I still love it. But right near Junior or Senior year I smoked every day, and that's not a big accomplishment for most of you here but for me it still is. It opened up a lot of social avenues for me, as I discovered...weed is universally sound for bringing people together to watch movies and eat junk food. It was one of my first times really hanging out with a group of people who were both guys and girls...go figure, I wasn't exactly as striking as i am today. We got high at the mall before going to see Wedding Crashers in the theaters, but I was fucking starving so I went to Burger King first.
I forgot to ask anybody else if they wanted anything, but in the drive thru I got charitable. I bought a dozen double bacon cheeseburgers. Now, you know I have anxiet, right? Imagine 16 year old me rolling into the movie theater, fucking STOCKED with double bacon cheeseburgers. Bought my ticket. Probably stumbled through it. Realized I forgot soda, so I had to socially interact again to get a gallon of mountain dew at concessions. Get into the theater...and I remember as I sat down, how fucking weird was I? I was a movie character. I smuggled bacon double fucking cheeseburgers into the movie theater to try and impress the women!
Now, ten years ago I still kicked myself in the ass for that.
Today, I realized I probably could've gotten laid that night. They loved it! Everyone loved it. I was the coolest dude in that row!
So fastforward, say, 15 minutes. I chugged half a gallon of mountain dew, ate three cheeseburgers, and I had to piss. The previews were barely over, the starting scene in Wedding Crashers was Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn throwing topless women onto the bed. Not like stacking them, but like a montage, remember? anyways, had to piss. I very casualy and not looking high at all walked to the bathroom, and...it was empty. Perfect, no anxiety about which urinal to use.
Now let's go back a few hours before I met up with everybody, and my mother let me dress myself. I had gotten high and gotten dressed, and my boxers were on backwards. So the little access point was nowhere to be found. My pants zipper worked but the little fold in my boxers...AWOL. So I'm alone in the bathroom, fishing around in my pants trying to find the little flap, right?
I didn't notice someone had walked in as I'm doing that, and like a fucking creeper he took the urinal three down from me! Ok, so that was ok I guess, but I was doing some serious 'soul searching' at that moment. I was fidgeting, I was wiggling around...I was certain I wasn't dumb enough to dress myself backwards. I didn't want to acknowledge my problems because I was high and still had three burgers in my jacket, but still...
I'm standing there...fishing through the zipper of my jeans...getting more and more animated trying to solve this problem...and this man from three urinals down hears me mutter, "...where the FUCK is IT?"
He moved to a stall.
.
I love music. I have an odd taste in it sometimes. I've gone from listening to BLM to System of a Down and all those early 2000's artists like Avenged Sevenfold, to punk rock to folksy stuff to fucking techno, when hallucinagetics discovered ME. Never really been a real fan of country unless it talks about drinking, or it's Country Road by John Denver, because...well, c'mon. If you don't sing along to that song you're a psycopath.
One thing I've noticed about music though, is that we respect music we don't even like or...fucking know. Jay Z, for example. Empire State of Mind, great album or song or whatever the fuck it was. I was reminded of him because I saw a New York liscence plate the other day, and it said "The Empire State" on it. I was like, FUCK YEAH, JAY Z! But then I realized I don't know any lyric to any word of his songs off of any album. Everyone is like that, I think. All of us here, we just know a famous name and say 'yeah, they're cool, gotta respect Johnny Cash.' I know like three songs of his, and that qualifies him for my rock and roll hall of fame.
One of my earliest memories of elementary school was a sort of kind of happy one, surprisngly. See, in school my parents took me to a back alley eye doctor and they hooked me up with glasses that were almost literally bigger than my fucking face. Like, oversized elderly adult spectacles. It was bad. But I remember this one time I perservered, and I starting using something really high tech for the time...pattern blocks. No, not building blocks, they were little tiny blocks of different shapes...like rhombus's diamonds, squares, rectangles...like little colored origami pieces, right?
Looking back at it now, I don't think Leeds Elementary School had a talented and gifted program. I was an honor student and playing with fucking blocks.
Anyways. So me and a few friends started making pretty intricate patterns on the floor with these blocks. Like, it'd start off as a square, but then we'd morph it all magically and shit into circles and ovals and they'd all follow the same pattern, and all our other classmates would stand around and watch us do it because they couldn't fathom lining up the square with the obtuse triangle.
I sat there and imagined my future; a brilliant artist, making designs out of blocks that even the most intelligent assholes couldn't see coming. My teacher, Mrs. Becker, she was so proud of us that she brought in the teacher from the neighboring classroom to check out our work. I didn't know it then, but I was networking! So then Mrs. Doyon brought me and my friends into her classroom the next day.
That day, I realized that pattern blocks were fucking stupid.
See, her kids had caught on really quickly, and I'm not one to hate over other people's successes but I fucking hated those kids because they succeedd. They were mixing in different patterns at once, making cars and dinosaurs and murals and shit, and I was exposed for just making shapes. Out of shapes. And those shapes weren't a bicycle, let along an automobile.
What kind of bullshit teacher was Mrs. Doyon, anyways? She saw how proud me and my idiot friends were, all happy we performed a simple task out of pattern blo---no, fuckit, they're building blocks and they're stupid. "Hey young Mr. Bragdon, I see you've found small success with a menial task even though your quadro-focal glasses hide you're entirely unspecial face. Your teacher must be so proud. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE...these kids have done better than you. They've beaten you. So you and your friends and your teacher have nothing to be proud about."
That got dark at the end there, but fuck that bitch. I hope I meet here again and she has crippling arthritis so I'll make stick figure drawings of her stupid classroom and dare her to do better.
I'm against kids having phones. Remember those old cell phones where kids could only call a couple of numbers? Do they still have those? I don't think so, because my 11 year old is far from spoiled but she has a fucking Iphone while I'm rocking a cracked Samsung Galaxy S-whatever is five years out of date. She's on a handful of social sites for kids, but the biggest of all is musically. Holy god damn I hate musically. For those who don't know what it is, kids can make ten second music videos to share with their friends. They dance and lip synch to a shitty song by a shitty artist...by a shittier artist, COVERING the shitty song. Over and over and over and over again, they play that ten second clip until the video is 'perfect,' or until I've found a way to escape out a window before I go into a rage about an Arianna Grande cover song.
She can text her friends, too, which is fine. I'm all for her being social and creating relationships with her peers and all that, but remember when we were kids? When we got together and socialized, we'd hang out in the woods or a clubhouse and swear like sailors and say all the crude things our parents would kill us for saying.
But we put in effort ! Now kids don't even need to to assert themselves to be little bastards, they can do it from the comfort of the recliner. My daughter was texting her friends and went to the bathroom, leaving the phone on the coffee table, right? Now I'm not a snooper, I let her have her privacy for the most part, so I never look at her texts. I give her the benefit of the doubt, you know? Plus I don't know her password; she told me but with all the pin numbers and grown up codes and shit I have to remember I forgot already.
But THIS time her phone was unlocked, so I did the fatherly thing and checked out one little message. It was her friend Libby asking her, verbatim, "What the fucking fuckshit is your musically profile pic? OMG, gross." First off, less mad about the swearing than I am about how poorly put together it was. I had to learn my swear words from my parents or my other friends; kids can just google swear words and get all the good ones. But really? Fuckshit?
I didn't say anything to the kid, though. I warned my daughter not to use that language at her age, but what was I going to do? Call up Libby's parents, and with my limited vocabulary try and fix the problem? "Hey, so I caught your FUCKING KID swearing, and that's not ok!" Can't even screen shot it. I don't know how.
This one is just a pet peeve and I'm kind of a jerk for it, but I hate it when people exclaim or get excited about stupid things. For example, my wife on Halloween this year. We were walking the neighborhood, I was wearing a dog suit costume, and she yelled, so pumped, "LOOK! Someone else is wearing a dog suit!" Yeah, no shit. I bought it at Walmart. It wasn't the only one. Plus it doubles as pajamas, it's a smart buy. Plus, you didn't freak out about the 7 duplication Harley Quinn or Bumblebees we saw running around. Calm down.
Just to clarify, the response I explained to you isn't the response I give my wife. I just say "oh." Which, if you're ever in my situation, does not make it any better. She knows it's just a two letter abridged version of me being an asshole.
people who repeat funny lines in a movie immediately after they happen
What about people who repeat funny lines in a movie? I'm not saying like, quoting Step Brothers or something from Always Sunny a few months or years later. I do that, that's funny. But for example, if someone in a movie finishes a punch line, "Turns out we're all out of milk!" And the person sitting next to me roars with laughter and yells out loud "TURNS OUT WE'RE ALL OUT OF MILK!" Yeah, I'm watching the same movie as you. It was funny, but I didn't forget about it already. Now I just have other questions to ask you. Do you think I'm stupid, like I didn't get it? That's rude man.
Everyone knows here that I've been married for over a year now. In the past couple years I've become father figure to my adopted daughter Patience, but man...I have no idea how to fucking parents. I learned everything about parenting from my friends and my own parents. God Bless my mom and dad, man, they gave me a good upbringing and I was never left wanting for anything, but they were strict in their own way. No Eminem Cd's...no hanging out with girls past a certain time, no playing outside because my mother had a headache. From my friends I learned to be strict but in a different way; she can have anything she wants as long as she stays appropriate and listens to me and her moth. If not, then you get JACK SHIT.
I keep running into these moments where I try to do the right thing but I'm 32 and so out of touch with the rest of the world and finally, I've noticed that I don't know the new slang anymore. I know when things are lit, I know when things are fire, and I know when they're bunk and I know when they're...I dunno, just full of piss and vinigar. I don't know how slang works.
In any case, the other day Patience, her moth and I were driving around and she said out loud, out of the blue, 'SKRT SKRT.' She was sitting directly behind me, and I whipped my head around and said "YOU DO NOT FUCKING SAY THAT! WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!? THAT IS -NOT- APPROPRIATE!"
For those of you who don't know, skrt skrt is the sound of a car racing through the streets and squeeling it's tires. Skrt skrt! Yeah, no, I went back to my childhood and all I thought of was Ying Yang Twins and Little John. "AWWW, SKRT SKRT MOTHAFUCKA! AWW SKRT SKRT HELL YEAH!" But I was like, this is my moment. This is my time to finally be right to discipline her. Nope. I swore at my child for making racecar noises.
Why aren't Americans allowed to say cunt? Sorry I said that word, but that proves my point. Anyone who says it in America instantly gets the stink eye. I have a friend who grew up in Northern Africa and Egypt, her culture is a lot, lot different than ours. One of our mutual friends, another woman, told her at a party "Ashgan, you're my bitch!" Trying to be nice, in an...odd way. Ashgan got super mad though! It wasn't meant to offend, but apparantley bitch is a very, very bad word in her country. I asked her what would she prefer as a term of weird comraderie, and she said..."You're my cunt! That is much better." I don't think it has the same ring to it though.
Why can't we say it over here? We obviously did away with the word at one point. I can picture during the revolutionary war, a bunch of old guys in wigs writing a list of things they want to change in the new world. "Taxes, no. No more taxes. Taxes on tea? They wouldn't try that again. We want our own land, we want to be able to defend ourselve...our own government, for sure...anything else?" Then Ben Franklin's wife sticks her head in the door and gives him a mean look. "Oh, uh...I have something to add. Can we do away with the word cunt?"
And of course, after she left, he said "it was that bitch's idea."
So since this is techincally still Man-Date Thursday, I'm just going to go for it. If I had time machine, and I could go back in time to change one thing in history...only one...I would find and beat the shit out of the man who decided that women were always right. They are not, and we need to admit that shit right now. They still deserve rights, just like men. I'm not saying they shouldn't be able to vote...sometimes I don't know what to wear in inclement weather, and my wife is really good at telling me that it's cold out and I should wear a sweater. Her vote matters!
All I'm saying is they're not always right. Women can be wrong, just as much as a man can be wrong, but look--if there's a debate between a man and a woman, and I'm watching that debate with my wife, I can't say "Well, she was wrong in that point," without being called a sexist. The woman debating could admit she pissed inside the guys coffee earlier that morning, and "well, he must have deserved it!" (elaborate)
"I fucked your brother the other day because you forgot to get 2% milk on your way home from work." And all because that asshole said the phrase 'happy wife, happy life,' men are just dealing with it.
Make them happy, so we can be happy. That's sounds pretty oppressive, right?
I know what the point is, that they want equality and they worked very hard to have an even playing field. But equality hasn't tasted so good, has it, ladies? Women can do anything just as well as a man can do, I admit that whole heartedly. I believe in EQUALITY. But a man who has undergone a gender change to be a woman starts winning women's sports titles? I don't see the big deal, the more I think about it. It was fucking great when Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in that tennis match, but Butch Robertson just fucking destroyed the woman's shotput world record and everybody loses their minds!
Maybe these guys are just taking a radical stand? Women have taken over media and silly things like logical thinking and they always say how smarter they are than us. So these brave souls are taking back our fucking sports!
I'm saying all of this, knowing that in my lifetime, there will be a woman president. I'm for it, I don't give a shit, just please, please let her be attractive. If she's good looking I might be able to pay attention to the lies she's telling me. It'd be like POV porn but it'd include my tax dollars.
So I can smoke weed again. That's great and terrifying at the same time because I get some pretty gnarly munchies. Luckily I'm married and there's a child in the house, and also Patience lives there, so we have tons of great snacks. I like to stay up late, so when Jamie is sleeping I can get high and then peruse the cupboards. But I always play games with myself. I see the assorted pack of granola bars. I know I shouldn't have three of them like I feel like having at the moment. So I make a deal; if I reach into the box blindly and grab out my favorite, peanut butter kind... I can have another one. If not, I only have one chocolate chip. That's what I call fate.
It takes me at least four or five tries to get a peanut butter one, then my count is at seven and I have to blame the kid or the dog.
Or a setup somehow, because he'd get a huge fucking kick out of it. I had a daydream of some goop falling from the ceiilng and everyone pointing and laughing, and then it played out like I was Carrie. But I'm not violent, so it'd just be sad. All right. Let's do this.
One uppers. Yep, that's something else I hate. I think everyone else hates them too but I think my hatred is WAY more intense than theirs.
That's it for that one.
I lost my dick at Flagship Cinemas.
Right, so, this is like...2003 we're talking about. Maybe earlier, but probably not. I didn't start smoking pot until Freshman year, which was...2001, I think? I think so, but let's just call it that. I smoked out of a Mountain Dew can out back of my friends house and we rode our bikes to the only store nearby in Leeds, a few miles away, and we each got ten dollars worth of little debby snacks. Then, I was trying to be polite, I asked for a fucking BAG, please, for my near-dozen pastries. Like I assumed the cashier thought I could juggle.
I don't smoke very often anymore man, but I still love it. But right near Junior or Senior year I smoked every day, and that's not a big accomplishment for most of you here but for me it still is. It opened up a lot of social avenues for me, as I discovered...weed is universally sound for bringing people together to watch movies and eat junk food. It was one of my first times really hanging out with a group of people who were both guys and girls...go figure, I wasn't exactly as striking as i am today. We got high at the mall before going to see Wedding Crashers in the theaters, but I was fucking starving so I went to Burger King first.
I forgot to ask anybody else if they wanted anything, but in the drive thru I got charitable. I bought a dozen double bacon cheeseburgers. Now, you know I have anxiet, right? Imagine 16 year old me rolling into the movie theater, fucking STOCKED with double bacon cheeseburgers. Bought my ticket. Probably stumbled through it. Realized I forgot soda, so I had to socially interact again to get a gallon of mountain dew at concessions. Get into the theater...and I remember as I sat down, how fucking weird was I? I was a movie character. I smuggled bacon double fucking cheeseburgers into the movie theater to try and impress the women!
Now, ten years ago I still kicked myself in the ass for that.
Today, I realized I probably could've gotten laid that night. They loved it! Everyone loved it. I was the coolest dude in that row!
So fastforward, say, 15 minutes. I chugged half a gallon of mountain dew, ate three cheeseburgers, and I had to piss. The previews were barely over, the starting scene in Wedding Crashers was Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn throwing topless women onto the bed. Not like stacking them, but like a montage, remember? anyways, had to piss. I very casualy and not looking high at all walked to the bathroom, and...it was empty. Perfect, no anxiety about which urinal to use.
Now let's go back a few hours before I met up with everybody, and my mother let me dress myself. I had gotten high and gotten dressed, and my boxers were on backwards. So the little access point was nowhere to be found. My pants zipper worked but the little fold in my boxers...AWOL. So I'm alone in the bathroom, fishing around in my pants trying to find the little flap, right?
I didn't notice someone had walked in as I'm doing that, and like a fucking creeper he took the urinal three down from me! Ok, so that was ok I guess, but I was doing some serious 'soul searching' at that moment. I was fidgeting, I was wiggling around...I was certain I wasn't dumb enough to dress myself backwards. I didn't want to acknowledge my problems because I was high and still had three burgers in my jacket, but still...
I'm standing there...fishing through the zipper of my jeans...getting more and more animated trying to solve this problem...and this man from three urinals down hears me mutter, "...where the FUCK is IT?"
He moved to a stall.
.
I love music. I have an odd taste in it sometimes. I've gone from listening to BLM to System of a Down and all those early 2000's artists like Avenged Sevenfold, to punk rock to folksy stuff to fucking techno, when hallucinagetics discovered ME. Never really been a real fan of country unless it talks about drinking, or it's Country Road by John Denver, because...well, c'mon. If you don't sing along to that song you're a psycopath.
One thing I've noticed about music though, is that we respect music we don't even like or...fucking know. Jay Z, for example. Empire State of Mind, great album or song or whatever the fuck it was. I was reminded of him because I saw a New York liscence plate the other day, and it said "The Empire State" on it. I was like, FUCK YEAH, JAY Z! But then I realized I don't know any lyric to any word of his songs off of any album. Everyone is like that, I think. All of us here, we just know a famous name and say 'yeah, they're cool, gotta respect Johnny Cash.' I know like three songs of his, and that qualifies him for my rock and roll hall of fame.
One of my earliest memories of elementary school was a sort of kind of happy one, surprisngly. See, in school my parents took me to a back alley eye doctor and they hooked me up with glasses that were almost literally bigger than my fucking face. Like, oversized elderly adult spectacles. It was bad. But I remember this one time I perservered, and I starting using something really high tech for the time...pattern blocks. No, not building blocks, they were little tiny blocks of different shapes...like rhombus's diamonds, squares, rectangles...like little colored origami pieces, right?
Looking back at it now, I don't think Leeds Elementary School had a talented and gifted program. I was an honor student and playing with fucking blocks.
Anyways. So me and a few friends started making pretty intricate patterns on the floor with these blocks. Like, it'd start off as a square, but then we'd morph it all magically and shit into circles and ovals and they'd all follow the same pattern, and all our other classmates would stand around and watch us do it because they couldn't fathom lining up the square with the obtuse triangle.
I sat there and imagined my future; a brilliant artist, making designs out of blocks that even the most intelligent assholes couldn't see coming. My teacher, Mrs. Becker, she was so proud of us that she brought in the teacher from the neighboring classroom to check out our work. I didn't know it then, but I was networking! So then Mrs. Doyon brought me and my friends into her classroom the next day.
That day, I realized that pattern blocks were fucking stupid.
See, her kids had caught on really quickly, and I'm not one to hate over other people's successes but I fucking hated those kids because they succeedd. They were mixing in different patterns at once, making cars and dinosaurs and murals and shit, and I was exposed for just making shapes. Out of shapes. And those shapes weren't a bicycle, let along an automobile.
What kind of bullshit teacher was Mrs. Doyon, anyways? She saw how proud me and my idiot friends were, all happy we performed a simple task out of pattern blo---no, fuckit, they're building blocks and they're stupid. "Hey young Mr. Bragdon, I see you've found small success with a menial task even though your quadro-focal glasses hide you're entirely unspecial face. Your teacher must be so proud. BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE...these kids have done better than you. They've beaten you. So you and your friends and your teacher have nothing to be proud about."
That got dark at the end there, but fuck that bitch. I hope I meet here again and she has crippling arthritis so I'll make stick figure drawings of her stupid classroom and dare her to do better.
I'm against kids having phones. Remember those old cell phones where kids could only call a couple of numbers? Do they still have those? I don't think so, because my 11 year old is far from spoiled but she has a fucking Iphone while I'm rocking a cracked Samsung Galaxy S-whatever is five years out of date. She's on a handful of social sites for kids, but the biggest of all is musically. Holy god damn I hate musically. For those who don't know what it is, kids can make ten second music videos to share with their friends. They dance and lip synch to a shitty song by a shitty artist...by a shittier artist, COVERING the shitty song. Over and over and over and over again, they play that ten second clip until the video is 'perfect,' or until I've found a way to escape out a window before I go into a rage about an Arianna Grande cover song.
She can text her friends, too, which is fine. I'm all for her being social and creating relationships with her peers and all that, but remember when we were kids? When we got together and socialized, we'd hang out in the woods or a clubhouse and swear like sailors and say all the crude things our parents would kill us for saying.
But we put in effort ! Now kids don't even need to to assert themselves to be little bastards, they can do it from the comfort of the recliner. My daughter was texting her friends and went to the bathroom, leaving the phone on the coffee table, right? Now I'm not a snooper, I let her have her privacy for the most part, so I never look at her texts. I give her the benefit of the doubt, you know? Plus I don't know her password; she told me but with all the pin numbers and grown up codes and shit I have to remember I forgot already.
But THIS time her phone was unlocked, so I did the fatherly thing and checked out one little message. It was her friend Libby asking her, verbatim, "What the fucking fuckshit is your musically profile pic? OMG, gross." First off, less mad about the swearing than I am about how poorly put together it was. I had to learn my swear words from my parents or my other friends; kids can just google swear words and get all the good ones. But really? Fuckshit?
I didn't say anything to the kid, though. I warned my daughter not to use that language at her age, but what was I going to do? Call up Libby's parents, and with my limited vocabulary try and fix the problem? "Hey, so I caught your FUCKING KID swearing, and that's not ok!" Can't even screen shot it. I don't know how.
This one is just a pet peeve and I'm kind of a jerk for it, but I hate it when people exclaim or get excited about stupid things. For example, my wife on Halloween this year. We were walking the neighborhood, I was wearing a dog suit costume, and she yelled, so pumped, "LOOK! Someone else is wearing a dog suit!" Yeah, no shit. I bought it at Walmart. It wasn't the only one. Plus it doubles as pajamas, it's a smart buy. Plus, you didn't freak out about the 7 duplication Harley Quinn or Bumblebees we saw running around. Calm down.
Just to clarify, the response I explained to you isn't the response I give my wife. I just say "oh." Which, if you're ever in my situation, does not make it any better. She knows it's just a two letter abridged version of me being an asshole.
people who repeat funny lines in a movie immediately after they happen
What about people who repeat funny lines in a movie? I'm not saying like, quoting Step Brothers or something from Always Sunny a few months or years later. I do that, that's funny. But for example, if someone in a movie finishes a punch line, "Turns out we're all out of milk!" And the person sitting next to me roars with laughter and yells out loud "TURNS OUT WE'RE ALL OUT OF MILK!" Yeah, I'm watching the same movie as you. It was funny, but I didn't forget about it already. Now I just have other questions to ask you. Do you think I'm stupid, like I didn't get it? That's rude man.
Everyone knows here that I've been married for over a year now. In the past couple years I've become father figure to my adopted daughter Patience, but man...I have no idea how to fucking parents. I learned everything about parenting from my friends and my own parents. God Bless my mom and dad, man, they gave me a good upbringing and I was never left wanting for anything, but they were strict in their own way. No Eminem Cd's...no hanging out with girls past a certain time, no playing outside because my mother had a headache. From my friends I learned to be strict but in a different way; she can have anything she wants as long as she stays appropriate and listens to me and her moth. If not, then you get JACK SHIT.
I keep running into these moments where I try to do the right thing but I'm 32 and so out of touch with the rest of the world and finally, I've noticed that I don't know the new slang anymore. I know when things are lit, I know when things are fire, and I know when they're bunk and I know when they're...I dunno, just full of piss and vinigar. I don't know how slang works.
In any case, the other day Patience, her moth and I were driving around and she said out loud, out of the blue, 'SKRT SKRT.' She was sitting directly behind me, and I whipped my head around and said "YOU DO NOT FUCKING SAY THAT! WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!? THAT IS -NOT- APPROPRIATE!"
For those of you who don't know, skrt skrt is the sound of a car racing through the streets and squeeling it's tires. Skrt skrt! Yeah, no, I went back to my childhood and all I thought of was Ying Yang Twins and Little John. "AWWW, SKRT SKRT MOTHAFUCKA! AWW SKRT SKRT HELL YEAH!" But I was like, this is my moment. This is my time to finally be right to discipline her. Nope. I swore at my child for making racecar noises.
Why aren't Americans allowed to say cunt? Sorry I said that word, but that proves my point. Anyone who says it in America instantly gets the stink eye. I have a friend who grew up in Northern Africa and Egypt, her culture is a lot, lot different than ours. One of our mutual friends, another woman, told her at a party "Ashgan, you're my bitch!" Trying to be nice, in an...odd way. Ashgan got super mad though! It wasn't meant to offend, but apparantley bitch is a very, very bad word in her country. I asked her what would she prefer as a term of weird comraderie, and she said..."You're my cunt! That is much better." I don't think it has the same ring to it though.
Why can't we say it over here? We obviously did away with the word at one point. I can picture during the revolutionary war, a bunch of old guys in wigs writing a list of things they want to change in the new world. "Taxes, no. No more taxes. Taxes on tea? They wouldn't try that again. We want our own land, we want to be able to defend ourselve...our own government, for sure...anything else?" Then Ben Franklin's wife sticks her head in the door and gives him a mean look. "Oh, uh...I have something to add. Can we do away with the word cunt?"
And of course, after she left, he said "it was that bitch's idea."
So since this is techincally still Man-Date Thursday, I'm just going to go for it. If I had time machine, and I could go back in time to change one thing in history...only one...I would find and beat the shit out of the man who decided that women were always right. They are not, and we need to admit that shit right now. They still deserve rights, just like men. I'm not saying they shouldn't be able to vote...sometimes I don't know what to wear in inclement weather, and my wife is really good at telling me that it's cold out and I should wear a sweater. Her vote matters!
All I'm saying is they're not always right. Women can be wrong, just as much as a man can be wrong, but look--if there's a debate between a man and a woman, and I'm watching that debate with my wife, I can't say "Well, she was wrong in that point," without being called a sexist. The woman debating could admit she pissed inside the guys coffee earlier that morning, and "well, he must have deserved it!" (elaborate)
"I fucked your brother the other day because you forgot to get 2% milk on your way home from work." And all because that asshole said the phrase 'happy wife, happy life,' men are just dealing with it.
Make them happy, so we can be happy. That's sounds pretty oppressive, right?
I know what the point is, that they want equality and they worked very hard to have an even playing field. But equality hasn't tasted so good, has it, ladies? Women can do anything just as well as a man can do, I admit that whole heartedly. I believe in EQUALITY. But a man who has undergone a gender change to be a woman starts winning women's sports titles? I don't see the big deal, the more I think about it. It was fucking great when Billie Jean King beat Bobby Riggs in that tennis match, but Butch Robertson just fucking destroyed the woman's shotput world record and everybody loses their minds!
Maybe these guys are just taking a radical stand? Women have taken over media and silly things like logical thinking and they always say how smarter they are than us. So these brave souls are taking back our fucking sports!
I'm saying all of this, knowing that in my lifetime, there will be a woman president. I'm for it, I don't give a shit, just please, please let her be attractive. If she's good looking I might be able to pay attention to the lies she's telling me. It'd be like POV porn but it'd include my tax dollars.
So I can smoke weed again. That's great and terrifying at the same time because I get some pretty gnarly munchies. Luckily I'm married and there's a child in the house, and also Patience lives there, so we have tons of great snacks. I like to stay up late, so when Jamie is sleeping I can get high and then peruse the cupboards. But I always play games with myself. I see the assorted pack of granola bars. I know I shouldn't have three of them like I feel like having at the moment. So I make a deal; if I reach into the box blindly and grab out my favorite, peanut butter kind... I can have another one. If not, I only have one chocolate chip. That's what I call fate.
It takes me at least four or five tries to get a peanut butter one, then my count is at seven and I have to blame the kid or the dog.
