yescomply

Man, I just thought about it. It’s 3:04. I have 3 hours until I have to leave for work. School’s are getting out soon. What if a kid comes to my door asking for candy? Or worse, what a kid comes with his mom? Would it be appropriate to trick them? They do ask for a trick or a treat. Not many act on the former, but I could.
I would say, “yes, just give me one moment’s time. Delicious candy awaits.” Then I’d sneak out the back door and run like hell. After a good 3 minutes, he’ll ring my bell again, and eventually flee. He’d probably steal some of the patio furniture. I have a chair out there that I found on a street corner, with an envelope attached that read, “FREE.” So I took the chair, and put it in my yard. To avoid any confusion, I added the word, “TIBET.” This way pedestrians don’t break into my yard and steal my chair, thinking that it’s free. Instead, they think it’s a protest chair, and they know I can’t sit in that chair until Tibet is free.
Seriously, though. If a little comes by, I have nothing to offer him but granola bars, ramen or spite. That’s not a type-o (or keyboard-o). It’s not supposed to say, “sprite.” I wouldn’t give a little kid a beverage of lemon-lime, sugar and bubbles. No.
A word of advice. Anyone who dresses as a teacher, is probably a Narc of the candy world. Don’t give him anything that can have you arrested. Don’t accidentally give him the apple with the razor blade inside. It’ll come back to haunt you, in ways you can only imagine.

Good night, moon

It’s almost Halloween. Yay. Feel my excitement. I’m going as a waiter. Actually, I’m going to work, and I work as a waiter. So, yeah…

There’s not a whole lot of positive press for waiters. Has there ever been a show about waiters? I don’t know. There should be. There’s too many doctor shows out there. Too many lawyers. They should have an all man cast for a doctor show, call it Gay’s Anatomy.

“Dr. McDreamy, Dr. McCreamy, come over here and Double McTeam-me.” Etc.

A lot of people dress up as doctors for Halloween, albeit slutty doctors, or crazy doctors, but a doctor nonetheless. Who wouldn’t want to be a doctor? It’s easy. You put on a white lab coat, and ta-da, you can now touch people or force them to open their mouths and stick wood in there. That sounds dirty… which is something a doctor never is: if you want to be an authentic doctor, you have to wash your hands every 3 minutes. Also, no trick-or-treating. Have the candy come to you, and make it wait in your office for like an hour.

I was online and came across a 24 drinking game. Let’s just say, that show deserves better. It should’ve included a drink whenever somebody says, “we don’t have much time,” or something of the like; when a character gives the succinct response, “yeah.” Or when some technological jargon is mentioned as a way of explaining something to the audience… we need the explanation because most of the stuff is made up anyway. What about when somebody at CTU opens up a new socket? You should have to drink at the mention of “schematics” or every time something ridiculously impossible happens, i.e. a terrorist decides at the last minute to not kill a hostage, namely Jack or Jack shoots/saves somebody at the very last moment possible. How the hell does he cruise through LA (possibly the most over populated city in
America) so fast?

I’ve decided that there should be drinking games for events in real life.

You should have to drink whenever:

Somebody doesn’t wash their hands after bathroom use.

Somebody sings incorrect lyrics… drink twice if nobody corrects him.

Somebody laughs at a joke he knows isn’t funny.

Anytime I am sarcastic… I will destroy your livers.

You procrastinate.

You watch bad TV (aka Reality shows or procedural shows)

Somebody claims to be so full… but eats anyway (twice if it’s not Thanksgiving)

Something is described as “cute” or “fabulous.” Those words don’t mean anything!

Somebody quotes TV or a movie… drink twice when somebody repeats the quote or tries to say it better

A TV commercial makes you want the advertised product (infomercials don’t count)

A TV commercial is makes no sense (how does a Gecko sell insurance? Why is everybody in McDonald’s commercials so thin and healthy looking – they eat McDonald’s!)

A commercial for a medical product/pill doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.

You see the same commercial within the same commercial break.

Somebody yells at an inanimate object (drink twice if it’s not the TV)

While snooping in on someone else’s conversation and they…

Mention movies or TV (drink twice if they refer to a character by his actor’s name)

Mention a celebrity (twice if they mention a personal detail like spouse, child’s name, family life, affair, etc.)

Make a false claim about politics (twice if they mention Obama’s middle name, or Sarah Palin… at all)

Talk about the economy… and clearly don’t know what they’re talking about (aka, “under the umbrella of creation.” – hint: do not listen to a Sarah Palin interview unless you really need to get schmammered)

Finish your drink whenever:

A politician speaks candidly, openly or honestly.

Somebody mentions reading a book… not genre fiction (mystery, romance, military) and not a book series (Harry Pooter)

You choose a healthy choice over an inexpensive one (I do realize that telling you to drink would turn your healthy choice into a very unhealthy choice).

The choice to be sarcastic is defeated by the choice to be helpful.

Finish all the drinks, everywhere whenever:

(in due time) the Cubs win the World Series.

They bring back Arrested Development (the movie doesn’t count).

I start making sense.

Please comment/add rules of your own. To comment you must sign up, but it’ll make things so much better.

A letter to my unrequited love,
I miss you. There was a time when you were a big part of my life, and ever since my family introduced me to you, at such a young age, I knew I had to have you.
I used to hold you in my hand, and be happy. You would feed me, and get me into movies, but now, now there is a void, in both my heart and my pockets.
I can’t have a good time without you. I need you. I’m not saying that you have to be mine, exclusively, I just want you to spend more time with me.
If I never see you again, it will be a poor existence for me. Without you, I am a broke man.
Love,
Jeremy (the guy whose wallet/bank account you used to occupy)

Dear Grand Ave. Ghetto (just west of CocoWalk),
Thanks for not being there for my morning commute. I appreciate you not waking up so early. I guess you don’t have any reason to be up, or anywhere to be, and that’s fine with me.
Honestly, you scare me. With your gap tooth grins and shopping cart nomads, I can do without you on my ride to and fro.
Thanks for not showing up until after I have safely returned from school.
Tanks,
Jernonymous

Dear Cars on the road,
Please don’t kill me. I exist! I swear I do!
We have a saying where I’m from, “share the road,” selfish.
If you came up on the sidewalk, I wouldn’t honk at you, or try and run you over.

Goodnight, moon

My sister used to have a friend who would keep a jar of green olives in the fridge, and just eat them at his leisure, like a snack. I used to think that was weird, but it’s not. They put nicotine or crack in those things. They have to. I’ve come to realize this.

I never liked green olives until I started as a waiter, and I’d have to find a way to pass the time while I waited for a drink order. As a waiter, you’re entitled to snack at the garnish tray whenever it meets your fancy (its frowned upon, but only if you get caught), and it’s really the only thing to do, aside from actual side-work.

So, one day, on an empty stomach, I dove into the first food available to me; those little green circles of death. Oh death, delicious death. Sure, they taste like the bottom side of a garbage can, sopping with the amalgamation of all possible garbage juices, but once you eat one, you have to have another: it’s the only way to wash the taste away. Even after you clear your palette of that fetid taste in your mouth, you somehow still crave it. You can sense its absence, and the only option to fill the void is more of those cursed olives. That or ice. I chose olives, and I stand by my choice.

There are worse things in life to be addicted to, like, crack, nicotine, caffeine, or Jesus.

I mean, green olives, yeah they smell, but they’re doused with antioxidants (which sounds like a bad thing, I know, but it’s actually good). Antioxidants makes me cancer free, which means I can use my cell phone as much as I want, hold it right up to my ear. No blue tooth for me. I can even lean my head on the microwave glass, like I did as a kid, watching my food do its enticing, circle dance. Watching your food in the microwave is like watching weird wedding rituals: it’s boring, you’ve seen it a thousand times, and you just can’t wait for it to be over, so you can eat. God, I need olives. Immediately.

If this blog starts your addiction to green olives, I apologizzle (that actually sounds pretty gross). But remember: you could be addicted to worse. You could be eating Jesus.

Goodnight, Moon

Congratulations to me… I started blog, what did you do today? Went to work? Okay, good answer. I’m going to work, later, at the Miami Improv. Exciting, right? Yeah, I work there, at a comedy club… as a server. We’re not even called waiters. That’s demeaning. I guess I’d rather serve than wait. Slaves serve. Prisoners wait. That makes you a prisoner, because you’re waiting… for me to say something interesting. And by “say,” I mean “type.” And by “type,” I mean “keyboard.” I learned the first week in high school that when you use a computer, you’re not “typing,” you’re “keyboarding,” because you use a keyboard, not a typewriter.

Now that I’ve bored the pants off you (please keep your pants on, it’s not that kind of blog), I will make a promise to you: every day I write, I will give you at least one fact. Today’s fact is a little something I picked up from Full House:
When one of the girls, probably DJ, that slut, sneaks out of the house on a school night to be with a boy, Aunt Becky covers for her, but Danny gets wise, and asks Becky, “do you know something I don’t know?” She responds, “the gestation period of an elephant is 22 months,” (Wikipedia, the source for all that is true, has confirmed it). “Actually, I did know that,” is Danny Tanner’s reply. Dude knows a lot. When Uncle Jesse failed his driver’s test, he comments, “like any actually knows how far away you have to park from train tracks.” It turns out that both Danny and Uncle Joey knew the answer. They recited it at the same time, and audience erupted with laughter. I don’t remember the answer, but I’m pretty sure it’s a car’s length away.

Maybe if I just recite Full House jokes, you guys will return to read my blog. Please do. I haven’t watched Full House in years, but I’m pretty sure it’s on TV Land or Nick at Nite (that makes me feel old). I can watch it and tell you all about it. Or not. Most likely not. But please come back and read more. Wait, one more fact about Full House. One of the Olsen twins is actually two inches tall than the other. Guess which one. That’s right. The one who has trouble getting onto roller coasters without platform shoes. You must be this tall to… eat food. You must be this tall to… (insert naked Heath Ledger joke? Too soon? Okay). Hey, do you think she ended up seeing the Dark Knight? Probably, right? Just because the Joker died, naked, in her bed wouldn’t stop her from seeing it, right? All the more reason to go.

Goodnight, Moon.