Censorsh(BLEEP)

OK, seriously, who let the damn censors in here? I said censorSHIP.. not (BLEEP) you uptight... Ah (BLEEP)! I can't get away from these mother(BLEEP)ers.

The last two blogs I sent in to the PI got turned away because of "profane language not in line with the image of the Seattle PI." (BLEEP) that (BLEEP).

If I want to refer to the night that my girlfriend got face-raped by some drunk dude at the bar as a cluster(BLEEP). Seriously mother(BLEEP)ers, knock it the hell off! Oh what? You're going to let me say hell? How about ass? Oh wow, that one worked too. I'm obviously toeing the line here.

OK, seriously Mr. Censor. Come here, I want to shake hands and make good...

CRACK! Take that motherfucker! YES! I beat the system!

Oh shit, now the suits are after me... I better get outta here before they kick the (BLEEP). Oh hell (BLEEP) where the hell did another one of you come from? What the (BLEEP) is this, the (BLEEP)ing Matrix?

Can I give a shout-out?!

...To myself?

I recently learned that sometimes people are just too busy to give a shit. The worst part is that when you take the lead and try to set a standard, others often just follow the path that's been outlined for them rather than getting a clue and doing a little sumpin'-sumpin' on their own.

With that said, I'd like to give myself a shout-out. Cram it Seacrest and Daily, this is my time in the limelight. For once I'd like someone to write some gleaming email to me, demonstrating that they took the time... For once I'd like to be the American Psycho looking at himself in the mirror. For once I'd like it to be my deuce that doesn't stink.

It's recently become apparent that some people are so self-centered they can only recognize their own work as self-proclaimed works of genius; thereby neglecting the work of those around them. That's a load. Period. I'm as serious as cancer.

Now, you might think to yourself, "this guy is really pissed, and probably for no reason." But it is with reason. With a lot actually! I won't bore you with examples, though. That said, I just want to give a shout-out to myself. And a shout-out to my baby's daddy; to Lafonda; to Kip; to Kit; to R2D2; to the Hoff; that angry dude from the Breakfast Club; and any and all teen movies from the 80's.

I wish we all had our very own Dr. Cox

As I approached the Store24 on Boyle street, a homeless man looked to me and said, "spare it if you got it, brother, please remember." Why, please let me ask, do I always get approached by the dread-locked, soiled, desperate people without homes in foreign cities?

I sat in the airport in Philly and listened to an inherent Irish-catholic drone on about the 15 misdemeanors he had acquired before the age of 16. He was all, "damn, you know damn, I was up in Compton and these dudes approached me and they was like whaaa, and I was like whaaaa and that was when I just had to throw down you know what I'm saying?" NO! I don't know what you're saying. You're barely speaking English!

Traipsing through the city streets of Bawston in a town car I came to the quick realization that life would be a lot simpler if we all had our very own Dr. Cox. You know, someone to call me a sissy, tell me to buck up, and accept the fact that sometimes you just have to accept what the world deals you--soiled homeless people begging you for change.

Did I mention it's hot here? It's like 96 degrees. I've been awake for 13 hours on less than 3 hours of sleep. Something about hot, muggy, "it smells like..." weather just isn't cool; and shouldn't be taken with sleep or a small meal.

If only I had a few more days and pop-culture references I could write more; but I won't. Let me just leave you with this: In a matter of hours, it'd be the biggest story from Boston to Budapest!

Note to self

Get some post-it notes.

Take over the world.

Stop by the liquor store.

Tell that dude in the parking lot he was wrong.

Complain to the apartment manager.

Get one of those Tiki lamps like in the Movie Joe Versus the Volcano.

Post this list to blog.

I've got a drinking problem? You're the one who has a problem with my drinking.

As anyone who works in this business knows, there's a lot of stress. In parallel, there's also a lot of drinking. I've provided a simple visual aid below to demonstrate this.

You'll note that drinking is always higher than stress (that's just because we really do have drinking problems). But you will also note that as stress increases, drinking quickly escalates as well.

I think Johnny Cash said it best when he mentioned that he "woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold his head that didn't hurt." Now, whether that was from the stress or the drinking, I can't say. But I can tell you that stress just plain sucks. Of all the human feelings, this is the one who really deserves to get shived in the prison yard.

So, what can be done to fight this increasing delema? Well, right now I'm ignoring email (this one's really popular with people still working), and watching survivor man--I love watching that dude put himself through hell for my entertainment. Granted, when I'm stranded on a desert isle, I won't remember shit, but I'll at least have the memory of being greatly entertained. And of course, there's drinking. Although, it's not quite past the lunch hour.

Here's to holding your head up, and avoiding stress! Cheers.

There are two types of people in this world...

Men and women. What did you think I was going to say something profound?

SERIOUSLY though, try to find two groups of humans that are so incredibly similar, yet so cosmically at the far ends of the spectrum that it drives them (both) bonkers...

For instance... I have this friend, we'll call him D. Now, D's a nice guy and despite his ability to do absolutely nothing around the house, isn't that bad. D's fiancee on the other hand can be a real GRINCH (if you saw the episode of HIMYM where Barney calls Lilly a GRINCH) you know what I'm saying.

We've lived in my house for over a year now. Every night I walk in, take my shoes off and walk upstairs to find D and his fiancee sitting in our living room with their shoes still on. Over the past three nights I've heard the following excuses from said fiancee (in order of absurdity):

#3 "That's why you pay a damage depoist"... WRONG, WRONG! I bought the house Steph... there's no damage deposit.

#2 "These are my gym shoes, I only wear them indoors"... OK, so you magically teleported from the gym to your car to my couch? Awesome. Sign me up.

and #1 "I forgot I had shoes on"... I don't even know what to say to this...

This just goes to prove that the thought processes in men and women are different. Yes, I enjoy the differences between us and them, but come on. This isn't a generalization, but simply showing how incredibly far apart I am from one girl in particular.

Peace be with you.

Attack of the idiots

Jimmy woke up this morning with a pounding headache, utter contempt, and an unsatisfiable need for caffeine. Never-the-less, Jimmy got out of bed, got dressed, and went to Starbucks.

Standing in line, Jimmy realized that all of the people around him were idiots. Idiots!

Jimmy checked his email; yep, more idiots. Read the paper, yeah, idiots.

The moral of the story: Remember, there's a lot of idiots out their. Your best protection is to not be an idiot.

Why am I the only one sending email...

at 11:07 p.m. on Friday? This blows goats.

Hey LaRusso, where have you been?

Seriously! What, Miagi dies and you decide to drop off the face of the earth? Okay, so maybe you didn't completely disappear, put you sure as hell quit waxin' it. Damn, you used to be hardcore. Droping round houses and back fists--what with catching flies in chopsticks and dodging fishing knives...

Look at yourself now. You're barely 'c-list.' And you've got a broken-ass nose, but you're still cool. I'd still hang with you. Besides, I'm sure there's hope for you yet. You should beef-cake it up and enter a reality TV show. Better yet you should go find Bam Margera and challenge him to a duel--I'd pay to see that.

Here's to you LaRusso! I hope to see you in a real movie sometime.

It's 50 cups of coffee and you know it's on

She packed my bags, pre-flight, and I'm going to be high as a kite. Damn, I wish I was as cool as the Shat! I'd pull that line every day. I could be a total jerk, but people would be like, "hey, you're a jerk, but it's cool. If you weren't a jerk, you couldn't be as Shatastic as you are."

I bet the Shat is pretty cool to meet in person. In fact, I bet he's uber-cool. I hope to be uber-something one day...

Is this even a coherent thought? Damn it's early.