Some stuff

I've decided that I don't really have the focus to dedicate entire posts to one topic, so I think I'm going to write about several topics in one post. We'll see how it works out. Also, I promised a friend that I would start writing again at least two posts a week. So here goes! Enjoy the slow, uneventful ride!!!

The other night at work this really cute girl was looking at workout dvds. I noticed her as I was walking by and in a very uncharacteristic DB move, I said something to her without months of planning and flow charts and focus groups and shit. I said, "Ooh...I wouldn't buy that one. That's the one I've been using." You see, that's funny because I weigh roughly eleven hundred pounds. She half-assed smiled, said thanks and turned back to look at Billy Blanks bullshit or whatever. I was a little surprised. I mean, that shit was gold! Maybe just in my head, but gold nonetheless. I probably should have said something after that, but to be honest I had no follow up. That was my pick up line hail mary, so to speak. And it was quickly batted down. So I turned around and did my walk of shame (which, turns out, has become my normal, everyday walk) back to the back room.

I get off work at 1 a.m. and usually stay up until around 7 or 8. During this time, I watch a lot of early morning tv/news, and I've discovered something. Channel 13 in Houston is doing it all wrong. The channel 11 traffic woman is Katherine Whaley, who is just great. Channel 2 has Jennifer Reyna doing traffic, and if you've ever been around me while I'm drunk (or sober really), I'm sure I've told you how hot I think Jennifer Reyna is. I mean, I watch channel 2 traffic in the morning like I have somewhere to go, and I totally don't...ever! That's how much I love Jennifer Reyna. I even consider driving to parts to Houston just because she tells me that the "drive in should be a great one." So who does Channel 13 throw out there to possibly draw viewers away from these two lovely ladies? Don F'ing Nelson. That's who. It just doesn't work. It's like watching a fatter Andy Griffith tell you about the potential hazards of your daily commute. Nobody wants to see that at 5 a.m.

Tonight at work I was walking by the toy section and noticed this baby doll on the endcap. Earlier in the night a coworker commented that it looked like me and could be my baby. So I stopped and looked at it, but didn't really see a resemblance aside from the fat head, pudgy cheeks and small amount of hair. Then I started thinking, "I wonder what they make these things out of," and I reached out and grabbed the little fella's hand. I probably stood there squishing and holding its little plastic hand for about 30-40 seconds, and then it hit me. I must have looked like the biggest pedophilic creepo in the world. What was actually me looking inquisitively and wondering, "Hmm, is this some sort of soft plastic?" probably looked more like a perv who was considering sticking his penis in this tiny plastic representation of a human baby. I was a little unnerved. So anyway, I bought it. Can you believe those things are 30 bucks? Haha...I'm kidding. (I used my discount card. It was only like $27 and some change.)

I bought Max Brooks' "World War Z" and "The Zombie Survival Guide," and they are great. I've gotta tell ya, zombies sound like they wouldn't be all that bad. I don't want the fast moving, "Zombieland" zombies, though. I want the slow, shuffling ones. One part of "World War Z" talks about a blind guy who basically kills hundreds of these slow zombies with a shovel. This sounds like something I could do. An added bonus to zombies would be that they would probably kill some of the assholes that I hate. Then they would reanimate as zombies and I (or possibly a blind Japanese guy) could hit them with shovels...consequence free! Don't read too much into me wanting to kill people. I just want to kill zombies. Plus, Woody Harrelson made it look cool. Not so much Jesse Eisenberg, though. I hate that guy. Any part he plays, Michael Cera could play better and with a thousand times more comedy.

I haven't been writing much lately because I'm my own worst critic. Also, with all my free time during hours when nobody else is awake, I've done a lot of thinking and I keep thinking about two particular errors I made when I worked at the paper and they still make me cringe. Thinking about them makes me not want to see words or make them with my keyboard. I'm getting over it, though. Slowly. Another reason is that I don't think I'm as funny as I used to be. I guess that goes back to being my own worst critic. I mean, some people liked "Office Space" and that movie was terrible (Jennifer Aniston = movie poison), so hopefully people will like my writing again.

And thanks to everybody who continued reading past the "sex with a plastic baby" paragraph.

Things I learned from the super bowl

1. The media is dumb. Good job, Saints, though. I'm glad you won the Super Bowl. Not so much for you, but for your fans and native New Orleansers(?). You know, 'cause nothing takes away the crushing devastation of losing your home and all your belongings like your hometown team winning a Super Bowl five years after the fact. Way to go, media. And I'm sure as the Haitians crawl out from the rubble, their first thought will be, "I wonder if Pierre Garcon caught a td?" Well he did, Haiti. Sleep easy tonight. It's just football. It's not going to change the world.

2. Tim Tebow disappoints me. I thought this anti-abortion commercial was supposed to be controversial. If I hadn't looked for it, I wouldn't have known what it was for. It was basically, "I'm glad I didn't abort you, Timmy." "Me too, Mom!" Lame. I wonder why she was considering aborting him. Maybe Alabama's defense raped her, too.

3. Betty White and Abe Vigoda in the same commercial? Whaaat? Has somebody been reading my diary?

4. Drew Brees' birthmark went 15-18 for 147 yards and a td.


5. My mom saw the 60 minutes special about Samoans in the NFL, but apparently didn't pay too much attention to the details. She asked me about 15 times, "is he Samoan? He has long hair." She's so going to a home soon.

6. Sean Payton must have kept the "not being able to score from the 1" page from the Dallas playbook when he left.

7. Megan Fox in a bubble bath could sell strobe lights at an epilepsy convention. Well, maybe not because I can't remember what her commercial was for. I just remember that it was great. And that's all that really matters.

8. And finally, I make possibly the worlds greatest guacamole. It's an honor in the avocado world to sacrifice themselves for my guacamole.

All in all, a pretty entertaining super bowl. I imagine Manning will be back before his career is over. He'll be up for the next three months watching film and wiping sweat off his gigantic forehead.

The e-trade babies disappointed me, but Tim Tebow is just thankful they're around to be on tv.

"To hell with this game, Peyton! Just hold me!"

Fat guy discrimination

I work with a guy who smells like he was pieced together using old onions, feet and soured milk. Most of the time it's cool with me. If people want to smell, that's their thing. He's a cool guy and it's a free country. Stink away, my friend, stink away!

I just hate when I have to work in close proximity to him and people pass by us. I get funny looks from these people sometimes. They aren't the inside jokey "that guy you're working with smells but he doesn't know it but we both totally do!" looks. They're more like the "you're a bigger guy and therefore I'm going to assume this horrible smell is coming from you because fat people have poor hygiene and I hate you" looks. It's so unfair. I feel oppressed. Do you have any idea how it feels to apparently look like you smell? It doesn't matter what it is. If there's a bad smell and I'm near it, it seems like people automatically assume it's me. I could be standing next to a skunk and people would be like, "Jesus! That fat guy over there smells like a skunk!"

I was thinking about this the other night as I waited in a fast food drive-thru line. I was thinking about how sometimes it's funny to be fat, but most of the time it seems like people unfairly discriminate against us. I was thinking about some sort of awesome plus-sized revolt against society and how George Wendt could be like our patron saint or something. Jared from Subway would be tried for treason and properly dealt with. How amazing it would all be.

Then I dropped my debit card and it went under my passenger seat. While feeling around for it I found an opened bag of pizza-flavored combos I bought a couple nights before and had forgotten about. Needless to say, I was excited. "Fuckin' awesome...combos!" I probably actually said aloud. So I ate a few. They were a little stale, but still packed with that pretzel-y, pizza-y goodness that combos are know for. Then it hit me: I was eating stale, old food I found on the floor while I was waiting in line for more food. Maybe the discrimination was justified.

But I'd do it again in a labored heartbeat! (Get it? Because of the clogged arteries?)

Edit: They are combos! Wtf are kudos then? Thanks to thinkinfyou for pointing out my blunder (and for being sexy. *wink*)

...and I didn't even get her number

"Where's your braunschweiger?"

"I don't know what that is, ma'am."

"Really? You work here and don't know what braunschweiger is?"

"I'm sorry. Is it like bratwurst? Like a sausage or something?"

"*exaggerated sigh* No, it's not bratwurst! It's a spread. I have to get it now. I already have the crackers! If you work here you should at least know stuff about this place and what they sell."

(After looking for a few minutes...)

"Ah, here's some. Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes, yes that's it. It took long enough! I can't wait to get home and get out of this leg!"

Then she angrily drove her little scooter away.

Livery meat spreads and belligerent amputees.

This is my hell.

Perception becomes reality

I was walking to the back room of the store the other night when I saw a woman propping open the men's bathroom door just a little. I heard her say, "start counting so I know you're ok." Then from the inside, I heard a kids voice counting, "1...2...3..." I don't know if her kid was sick or if she thinks gangs of pedophiles hang out in store bathrooms waiting on unsuspecting kids, only to be thwarted by their counting out loud. As I passed by her I smiled and said, "My mom makes me do that, too. It gets pretty embarrassing sometimes." She gave me a really mean look and rolled her eyes.

This is what I do.

This is a perfect example of how people see me, or how I think they see me. Some would think that was funny and laugh about it, but for every person who thinks it's funny, there are three more who think I'm an idiot. I start to see me how they see me and then my confidence is shot for awhile.

I usually try the humor approach on women, but I'm starting to rethink that strategy because it's obviously not working. Maybe I need to be more confident in it and not think so much. Let's face it. I'm 27, have a crap job and just moved back in with my mom. That's not really the definition of a "catch." I can't really afford to screw up too many more opportunities. I'm like a hitchhiker walking down a seldom used highway. When one of the few cars passes, I can't be jumping out all flaily-armed and crazy eyed. It's time to get my "I'm not gonna kill you" face on. That's a metaphor. Not saying I'd kill a date. Oh jeez...I'm doing it again. ;-)

Mein Mom

"What the hell?"

"What's wrong?"

"What are you doing over there?"

"Nothing, why? Oh, this? They are going to look like spools of thread when I'm finished."

"Ok, but you don't see a problem with what it looks like now?"

"No. Why?"

"Mom, LOOK AT IT! You don't see a problem?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I see what you're saying."



This is what she was needlepointing or whatever the hell it's called. In her defense, it did look like spools of thread when she was done with that part, but you've gotta think the pattern could have been a little different and still achieved the same thing. Either that or maybe my little, gray-haired mom is secretly a Nazi, filled with hatred and anti-semitism. I guess all the signs were there. Her love of bratwurst, saying that Sara Silverman "just isn't that funny," and her insistence on cooking everything in the oven.

I sent this pic to all my sisters and we did our "is it time to put mom in a home" coinflip.

She got lucky this time.