Practically a Joke...

I think someone is playing a joke on me and I have to admit I am finding it quite entertaining. For the sake of this exercise I will call it ‘The Idiot vs The Cashier’. It is a very complex practical joke so I will assume that Ashton will not be jumping out from behind the counter anytime soon, and based on the fact that it hasn’t involved a fart joke I will assume my college buddies are not involved. The premise is really straightforward, show up to a store that I am at and make sure that the cashier is helping someone that is a little imbalanced in front of me.
Case in point: the extremely Latina cashier trying to have a conversation with the Dragon-Con groupie about Power Bars vs. Cliff bars. While it may seem like she might be the expert on the benefits of whole grains in relationship to the volume of protein in said items I think something was lost in translation. No doubt the case of Diet Mountain Dew will offset any nutritional deficiencies in the final decision, it was a debate for the ages. I call this one; Hoop Earrings vs. Orthopedic shoes.
Case number two: Cat lady vs Cat dude. For the jokester this was an obvious meeting of the minds, but none the less effective. Any interaction with a Petsmart employee is bound to be filled with awkward moments and glassy eyed responses to my quick witted humor. Add in a sale on cat treats and accessories and painstakingly obviously hilarity was bound to ensue. The conversation was centered on what treat/ leash combo was most appropriate to train a cat to walk on a leash like a dog. You can’t make this shit up.
I have some errands to run tomorrow so I am sure my tormentors are furiously at work to find the socially inept to coordinate their New Year’s eve social calendars with my own. Locations that would be best to spring their next trap include the liquor store (Indian cashier vs drunk bum, “will Steel Reserve get me fucked up enough?”), the cheese counter at Whole Foods (hipster vs Lincoln park know it all mom on what cheese goes best with a rosé wine), or Party City (Highschool manager vs mom trying to buy 500 Justin Bieber balloons). Cant wait to see where the next trap is sprung!

Getting old isn't so bad.

I am turning 30 years old soon and to be completely honest with you it really doesn’t bother me. Look, I have never been hip so no one expects me to know the cool places to hang out. I have always had a decent taste in clothes so you wont find my in a blue blazer and turtle neck anytime soon as you will never see me in some hipster skinny jeans. My party days were few and far between so no one can accuse me of ‘not going out anymore’. But there are a few things that I have noticed that are a little disturbing.
1. My first cocktail of the night is now a coffee
2. When I say ‘its what the kids are doing these days’ it is because some new trend scares me
3. I am the first person at every party
4. When my single friends tell me they went out with a girl I ask way too many personal questions. I then have to relay these details to my wife and then we go to our separate corners and shed a tear for our 20’s.
5. Farting is still funny, but it is also a relief to know my bowels are working as designed.
6. 8am is sleeping in…late
7. Hangovers last longer than one day
8. I can remember a time when I didn’t text, and I have no idea how anyone managed to meet up at a bar.
9. I watch gas prices and will drive out of my way to save $0.05 a gallon
10. I have some desire to read a news paper
11. Some products have been boycotted in my house due to political reasons.
12. I sit down to pee more often than I am comfortable to admit.

Smell my Holiday Cheer

Per usual, an excellent experience in Starbucks this morning brings me to my computer this morning filled with wistful words longing for understanding of my fellow human beings.  Call it chronic ignorance, but this holiday season has neither educated my neighbors on manners nor bestowed upon them an appreciation of personal space.  My wish this Christmas is for all mankind to gather together hand and hand, arm and arm, side by side and pull your collective heads out of your asses.

Cold and tired I was anxiously waiting in line to order my Grande Americano when suddenly there was someone behind me, right behind me.  It wasn’t that I saw her come up behind me, rather I was pummeled by the overwhelming stench of Bath and Body Works stripper body spray #4, ‘fresh privates’.  Every time I tried to take a step forward or sideways she was right behind me, my stinky little shadow.  Turning my head side to side to try and get a peak at my current adversary, she dodged my glare like a squirrel in a dog cage.  I kept trying to sneak forward to stay away from her, but I just couldn’t lose her.  I was about to give up hope and suffer miserably for the next 60 to 120 seconds, and then I had an idea…beat her at her own game, fight dirty and teach this close stander a lesson.  So I farted.  That’s right, I farted.  I practically farted right on her hand she was so close.

When I finally turned around to view my foe (now several steps back) I was surprised to see she was an attractive woman about my age.  I winked, she was not amused. 

This is all I can do for you today.

For some reason I have nothing to say, but that will not stop me from bringing pleasure to the world via my fantastical musings on the obscure and obscene. In this iteration of my semi weekly, never daily diatribe I would like to roll out a new feature of equally irrational…”Equally Irrational’s list of the irrational”.
1. I saw an article today that Sony will no longer be selling the cassette walkman. News flash, that happened a long time ago.
2. Polygamy is making a comeback. Seems like a really bad idea, but any man that wants to share a house with three women going through…’the cycle’ at the same time is a braver man than me.
3. I had someone ask me if twitter was like email. My response was, ‘as much as the Thomas Jefferson’s union expansion plan was like Ben Franklin’s.’ I had no idea what that ment but it kept them from asking me anymore questions.
4. You know when people talk about the landing on the moon, JFK getting shot, or 9/11 they always recall where they were when it happened. But for some reason no one remembers where they were when they were conceived. A simple five minute conversation could solve this problem, and make my inquiries far less creepy. Call your parents.
5. My dog is entertained by my farts.
6. I hate people that refer to their own blog in their blog.

What is that smell?

I am getting really tired of hearing inspirational/ motivational stories from used car sales men trying to pitch a book or DVD about taking advantage of life and making millions. All these people have ever been successful at is preying on the fragile emotions and bank accounts of the lower middle class. The stories all start the same…as a young boy in grade school I was stricken with a horrible case of fartenhousen disease. Every day after lunch my condition would flare up, the farts were uncontrollable. The pungent odor would permeate the class room, kids became ill from the stench many would faint, some would vomit and for others the odors would cause instantaneous flatulence causing the room to be filled with unconscious children, vomit and noxious odors. The pain and humiliation was horrible. For years the kids called me terrible names ‘Sir Farts’, ‘Mr Smelly’ and the worst ‘King Stinks’. I tried to hide by going off to college, but the names, and stink followed me wherever I went. It wasn’t until years later when I got into the real estate business that I found a place I could truly be myself. In new homes every day I was able to blame my farts and the smell on the previous real estate agent, and I could be myself, farting at will with no fear. After years of hard work I have establish a reputation for being the best real estate agent in town, making a million dollars a year. I look back on all those kids that used to barf and make fun of me and they are nothing compared to me. And you know what? Now when they smell a horrible fart they don’t barf or try and light a match, they breathe it in, long deep breathes and think about the most successful real estate agent in middle southwest Mississippi. King Farts? I don’t think so…King Real Estate.