Month: November 2012

Sadly, almost 40% of lottery winners $2 million or more go bankrupt in three years.  Why?  Because white trash play the lottery and when they win, they buy fourteen cars and pay off their horrible extended families…then they realize the behemoth federal government eats up over 50% of their winnings and it is gone.  None of this, however, deters us as Americans from salivating over what we would do upon winning.

If I won, I would pay off my mortgage, car and set up an annuity like a college scholarship.  Then I would disappear.  My mansion in the hills would have a brewery.  I would shoot at anything that broke into my 12 foot high walls (assuming they got over the moat also) with a .50 cal.  The isolation would drive me insane (I’m already there) and I would run around nude and scream at falling leaves while ’80’s metal blared in the background.

Inside I would have a bar on every floor and I would erect marble sculptures of Lincoln, Washington, and myself every 20 feet.  The main floor would be a living tribute to my high school football and comedy careers.  I would have something like clowns fighting various wild animals every Tuesday, because I could afford it.  I would have an eagle sanctuary out back next to my live action American battle reenactment field, which would involve Rambo wiping out all the commies at the end, no one matter what actual battle was going on.  When my liver fails at 43, I would leave my decadent estate to freedom and liberty, which aren’t real people, so it would collapse in disrepair by 2040.

God, please let me win the powerball…all those white trash will just waste that money.  Look at the good I can do…

I went to the Columbus Funny Bone to watch the finals of the Open Mike Talent Search.  It used to be called the “Funniest Person in Columbus” but I was at an open mike there once and there were five former winners introduced as the funniest person, so it was a tad ridiculous.  Thus the name change.

My favorite moment was walking in.  There were about 30 people in line and a young dad and his five year old (I guess, I can’t tell how old kids are because I’m not a pedo) walked past.  Kid – “Dad, why are there all those people?”  Dad – “They’re doing stand up comedy, son.  Do you know what that is?”  They passed, but my brain was full of answers.  “Well, Johnny, stand up is when grown ups have serious issues with alcohol and a burning need for acceptance.  They get onstage and talk about their horrible, horrible demons and people laugh at them, not with them!  That’s comedy.”  I may be jaded…

Well it ended and the very funny Dustin Meadows won, narrowly edging out Patsy B and Wonder Doug.  Congrats, welcome to the club (I have won three of these gladiator battles).  Now you can enjoy the night and drink until you miss work tomorrow and lose your job.  Jobless?  Sounds like more material!

Since my entire life is now an indentured servitude to Groupon, I went to the movies tonight to hurriedly use a movie pass that expired.  I got there a little early, so I slid into the bar area to await my girlfriend.  I must say, drinking in movie theaters is an idea way too late to the table.  Movies = good.  Drinking = great.  You get where this is going.  How did no one think of this earlier?  Probably someone did and had 73 complaints when a drunk guy started heckling during The Rescuers.  That’s why.

Some work group complete with nametags was hanging out.  It was interesting only because as each two broke from the table to approach the bar, they were talking shit about the rest of the table.  It reminded me of every group function I have ever been in.  Then a balding guy came in with his chica.  “I need a frosted glass.  I’m kind of a beer connoisseur and I must have a cold drink.”  Yes, you’re quite the expert, DRINKING AT THE MOVIE THEATER!  Pissant douchebag.  What is a beer connoisseur anyways?  It’s beer.  If there is one, it’s me.  I don’t go into Dickey’s Westside Pub…”Hmmm, this Bud Light draft in the poorly washed glass with a dead fruitfly in it is quite hoppy today, harumph harumph!”  If you do that, drink your next beer while running your car in your garage with the door closed.

It’s my new ritual to grow out a beard Thanksgiving week.  Why?  I have no idea.  It’s nice to not shave, I guess.  It is a fact of life that every guy tries to grow facial way before it’s time.  I remember in fourth grade slapping on the shaving cream and cutting my face with my Dad’s crappy disposable, before applying the aftershave, which nearly sent me into a pain-induced coma.  Then I got to ride out the day smelling like Brut, which isn’t good for anyone involved.  I have never used aftershave since.

In college I made fun of my buddy who grew sideburns, not with actually face fuzz, but letting his mop go uncut over his ears.  I then threw away any and all credibility by growing an Abe Lincoln chinstrap.  I looked Amish, but drunk and with an offensive T-shirt on.  I rocked this fine look for about five weeks until I realized I scared women away without it, let alone rocking that disaster – sadly more on my neck than face – of a beard.  I will say at the onset of my mid-30’s, the best part is shaving it off.  I feel like I’m 17 again.  Except the fact I’m 15 lbs. heavier, wearing reading glasses and with back pain…but my face, it looks 17!  Probably not, I forgot to put on my glasses…oh well, I was in denial then, might as well keep that rolling.

My cell phone has been sending double texts to me.  It’s mildly annoying.  What was more rage inducing, though, was when I got a text.  Then it came through again every hour, on the hour, the entire evening…until about 8 am the next morning.  Now I’m angry.

I called the support line and held for about 90 options until the support choice came up.  I then got an American on the phone, which was rather surprising.  His advice to me was “Turn the phone off, then on again.”  Wow, insightful!  He then suggested I call from another phone, which is not an option, seeing as to how I ditched a landline in 2002 like most of the civilized world.  There are people in third world countries that don’t have flush toilet that would mock you for having a landline.

It finally boiled down to one choice for me.  Deal with the double texts, or completely wipe out my phone’s contacts, apps, etc.  Let me think, get twice the texts…since I get about five a week that makes ten…or risk losing every phone number and have to download 25 apps again.  Looks like I need to up my text plan to senior citizen and plan on double digit texts.

First off, quit reading blogs and go spend time with your family, you asshole!  Except this one.  Read it seventeen times from seventeen different computers and maybe I will get a damn sponsor.  My Thanksgiving is usually spent in a way too hot house, eating stuff I like and fake eating stuff I am sick of (once I told Grandma no one made dressing, so she made 112 lbs. of it each year and I got stuck with the whole tub).  Well, today I am at the casino for a host of reasons, but most importantly I’ll be having steak, booze and gambling.  This is truly a blessed day.

It is a time of reflection, this day, but like most of you, I will fall asleep watching a shitty football game involving the Cowboys or Lions before that happens.  One should take the time to tell those people in your life how thankful you are…or get drunk and tell them to go to hell, I’m no moral compass.  Read these blogs, I’m a dirtbag.  Happy Thanksgiving, and please remember the most important rule of the holiday – we will all have three shelves worth of leftovers.  Keep your crappy hard cookies and leftover turkey at home – no one you work with wants it.  Well, maybe that lonely guy with the weird skin condition.  He’ll take it.