Teacher Appreciation Week: Day 2

I would like to thank the teachers who took the time to provide these stories. I would like to thank the children for being perpetually naïve. I would like to thank the parents who create these monsters. Most of all I would like thank the internet for teaching these offspring everything they need to know 10 years in advance. If you’d like to share a story, please do, because with North Korea popping off and every known celebrity committing sex crimes, I think we could all use a good laugh. So, here we go again.

“Every once in a while we get observed by our supervisors while doing our jobs. While playing Pictionary with the kids, I asked the most innocent girl ever to draw a picture of a nose. Here is what she drew. In front of my supervisor.”image1

“Kaitlin hated everything about school, and made it her mission to never, ever, ever apply her brain. Instead, she preferred to sing songs like, “Somebody come get her, she dancin’ like a stripper,” and she often walked into class, twerked, and then sat down in her seat. Eventually, I developed a good relationship with her mother and would tell her all the shit her daughter did. She was one of those parents we teachers are grateful for because she had my back and understood that her child wasn’t perfect. She ended up putting Kaitlin in a school that specialized in behavioral needs, and we lost touch. Months later, I was TRASHED and on my way to a Taylor Swift concert on a Saturday night. That night Kaitlin’s mom ended up being my Uber Driver. Oops. Sorry you had to see me like that……and I’m also sorry that you facetimed your daughter and allowed me to have a conversation with her in that state of being.”

“Next we are going to focus on Paul. I was doing a run through in a classroom library, when all of the sudden I picked up a book about trucks and noticed some writing inside. Defacing classroom supplies really grinds my gears, but normally I just erase it and move on. When I went to erase it, I noticed that there was a speech bubble coming from the truck. The speech bubble said, “Suck my dick, bitch.-Paul”  I thought maybe he got framed, so I went to him and asked, “Did you write this?” He replied no, but as I continued to press the matter, he eventually admitted that he did do it. I asked him, “Why did you sign your name when you’re writing such bad things in our books?” He replied, “If I didn’t write my name, how would everyone know I am a badass? I never thought you would this book up and read it.” Needless to say, on the list of things that I never saw myself saying to a parent, “Your 7 year old son wrote suck my dick bitch in our classroom book,” was at the very top.”

“Finally we have, Ethan. Ethan’s story is short, and definitely not sweet. He was a curious 13 year old, and when you mix a curious 13 year old with a school computer, you get some really concerning google searches. They include, but are not limited to, “Threesome with different color people,” “Really big dicks,” “gigantic titties,” “two girlz one cup,” “blue waffles,” and “3D penis.” I guess a 2D penis wasn’t enough for him.”

Really big dicks and giant titties. Welp, I just googled the same things and the results could really throw a child off the mark on what life as an adult is really like. And Paul, you are a God Damn Bad-Ass and don’t let anyone tell you any different.

Teacher Appreciation Week

The New Year is coming soon. Every year goes faster and faster. It’s 2018 which means I have been out of high school for eight years. Eight damn years. I want to say it feels like yesterday but it really doesn’t anymore. College might feel like yesterday. Grad school definitely feels like yesterday. But high school feels like an eternity ago now. I honestly thought I would always remember all of my teachers. I really can only remember a couple of my teachers who really had an impact on me.

You know the ones I’m talking about. It might have been the one who always made you laugh. I remember the ones who were just real with you and treated you like an adult. Then there was the one’s who really taught you something. Made sure you could do multiplication, long division, chemistry, calculus even. So in honor of these teachers impacting all of our lives I decided to ask some teachers for some stories. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier with the outcome. I also urge teachers who may be reading this right now to please send me some stories so I can keep this teacher appreciation week going. The following stories will be kept anonymous to protect the children and, of course, our fellow teachers.

In the education system, students are considered especially ridiculous. In America, the dedicated teachers who choose to teach these sadistic creatures are members of an elite squad known as the Special Teachers Unit. These are their stories… BONG BONG!!

“I met John when I was teaching middle school, so he was about 10 years old. Now, John was a nice kid. He was actively seeking ways to make his teachers feel appreciated and unfortunately other kids weren’t a fan of him for that. He also had no filter. I mean, literally no filter at all. Whatever was on his mind, was said to the entire class and it’s important to know that he didn’t do it to be funny. He just had to have been missing that little voice in his head that said, “Should I say this? Should I not?” The answer was always, “You should say it, and you should say it loudly.” That being said, we were in the middle of learning about god knows what, and all of the sudden John starts pointing to the crotch of his pants. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that someone MUST be camping in his pants because there is a tent pitched. He then proceeds to yell out, “My penis really hurts. What’s happening?” Another student shouted back, “That’s called a boner John.” All the girls in the class were looking at me like, “WTF IS HAPPENING?”, and I did everything I possibly could to keep a straight face, which is truly a difficult yet imperative skill to master when teaching middle school.  The lesson I was teaching died right in that moment. John went to the bathroom, and everyone just put their heads down for the rest of the period.”

“Next up is Richard. Richard couldn’t read. Really and truly, he was 13 years old and was reading at about a first grade level. That being said, he was not dumb at all. He instead used his brain for pranks, and as someone who was actively pranked by him, I have to say that they were well-thought out. His best prank of all time happened during second period ELA. I began teaching my lesson and all of the sudden I heard, “Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.”  The timer was going off. It was the one that I always kept on my desk, and the weird thing was that I didn’t remember setting it. I turned it off, and continued teaching. 2 minutes passed. Again I heard, “Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.” I looked at my timer, and it wasn’t the one going off. I walked around the room and saw a timer sitting on my co-teacher’s desk. I turned it off, thought “That’s so weird,” and continued teaching. Two minutes passed. Again I hear, “Beep, beep, beep. Beep, beep, beep.” This was the moment I realized that something was up. I had this internal struggle of, “Do I stop the lesson and tell the kids I need someone to confess and stop with the timers, or do I keep teaching and act like it isn’t bothering me even though it’s literally pissing me the fuck off?” I decided to play their game and keep teaching, while turning off the timers. I acted like it was the best day ever, and I was in a great fucking mood. NINE MORE TIMERS WENT OFF. EACH WITHIN TWO MINUTES OF THE NEXT. NINE FUCKING TIMERS. THAT’S FIFTY-FOUR FUCKING BEEPS. Finally, the tenth one went off. I could not find it. I looked everywhere. The beeps were taunting me and I thought to myself, “You got this. You’re ruining their prank by not letting it get to you. There can’t be many more timers.” I got closer to the beeping sound, and finally realized it was at the bottom of the garbage can covered in cereal and milk from that mornings breakfast. Richard let out the sneakiest cackle to reveal that he was the mastermind behind it all. I reached in, let it drip, and placed it on his desk. We finished the lesson that day. He then later revealed that he stole all the timers from the classrooms in our hallway, calculated the time it would be for them to go off during my class, entered the time into the timers, started them, and hid them all during breakfast. And for that, Richard is a god-damn genius.”

“The school I worked at was by no means perfect. We did the best with what we could. It was a serious struggle. However, those struggles made great, albeit slightly disturbing, stories. For example, me and my team were very close. Friends inside and outside of school. My “next door neighbor” called my room and told me to come to her classroom immediately. I ran over and she had something in her hand. She seemed very calm so I assumed whatever was in her hand was nothing terrible. I thought this until she said, “I’m holding poop right now.” I had no words. My first thought was, “why the hell is it still in your hand.” Turns out, one of her students went to the bathroom, took a shit into a paper towel and brought it back to class. No one saw, no one noticed until everyone was on the carpet for a lesson. A student said “Why does it smell like poop??” To which the student who DID IT freaked out that he found shit on the carpet. Turns out, this student brought the shit back and left it on the carpet then pretended someone else did it. Jokes on him, we have cameras. Although I guess jokes on us because we were the ones to deal with it…”

Between boners, elaborate pranks, and bringing souvenirs back from the bathroom, it’s clear that shit these people with more than earns them the right to have the summer off. Teachers have one of the most difficult and rewarding jobs out there. My friend put it like this, “teaching can be beautiful and rewarding when a kid learns to read, or solves a math problem that you know has been really difficult for him or her in the past. It can also be really frustrating when they don’t listen, or you feel like you aren’t making a difference. But mostly, it’s fucking hilarious and you think to yourself, “I can’t wait to tell [insert friend/significant other’s name here] about what happened today.”

So, stay tuned until tomorrow afternoon for more stories from our fellow teachers. And please by all means, send me a story or two via Facebook or right to mycousinvinny22@gmail.com. All stories will be kept anonymous of course.

The Gym Attire

I don’t know if people will agree with this, but over the past 15-20 years our generation has shown that we are the obsessive generation. I don’t think it’s like any other generation. I could be wrong though. I didn’t live through the 70’s and 80’s. I’m just some shmuck who’s barely a nineties kid pretending not to be a millennial.

Every week there is something new with these people though, whether it be a fidget spinner, Pokémon cards, Call of Duty, Stranger Things, or a fucking Tamagotchi. We are a very obsessive group of human beings. Maybe that will help us in our careers to help develop products faster. Just kidding, these quick phase obsessions are just wasting our time. Our devotion to Netflix, Hulu, HBOGO, and all the other binge-watching type TV applications, is not going to help us learn anything. It might entertain us and help with emotional stress purely in an escapist type way, but these things aren’t helping. The fact that people have caught up on 300 episodes Grey’s Anatomy, which is approximately 8.3 days worth, is actually insane.

I have seen some healthy obsessions lately though. Maybe I’m crazy, but I don’t think there has ever been this many people addicted to their health, whether they become a vegan/vegetarian, stop eating red meat, shop organically, or, of course, go to the gym an unreal amount of times. This is one of the few obsessions in our generation that may be a good thing. Sure some of the diets are outrageous, like one time my friend ate only frozen blueberries, protein shakes, and egg whites for a whole week. Some people say cut out all of the carbs, but look how that turned out for the Atkin’s guy. Some vegetarians only eat pizza and peanut butter and jelly which is not exactly healthy. Then some people do juice cleanses and shit their brains out for days at a time.

I respect people who can spend time counting macros and watching every single thing that enters the body, because I did it for two weeks, and I’ll definitely never do it again. I enjoy eating at restaurants way too much to have a strict diet. I’ll go to the gym and try to eat healthy as much as I can, but after a few beers on a Friday night, I just want a couple slices of pizza with meatball.

Going to the gym though has turned into all sorts of different things. On one hand you got people doing crossfit, slinging weights around like the fucking original Greek Olympics. Then, on the other hand, you got these guys at the gym squatting 450 pounds trying to see if they can crush their knees into an oblivion. Every other weekend you have people racing through obstacle courses like it’s the God Damn Hunger Games. When it really comes down to it, there’s nothing better then the guy using the neck machine at the gym. That’s definitely good for the cervical spine.

Don’t, get me wrong, I love the gym. It’s the only place where there is peace and quiet. By that, I mean nobody talks to me. Except the occasional asshole who thinks I’m taking criticism that day, who will say something like “try less weight and control it more.” It’s always someone telling you to use less weight. Guy, if I wanted a fucking trainer I would have signed up for one at the front desk. I’m not trying to be Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger, I’m just trying to blow off steam before a long day of work.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen this sign, but it’s usually right at the front desk of the gym. It tells you how you should dress at the gym. I believe its called a dress code. It tells you what you should and shouldn’t wear. Despite that sign specifically telling you what you can wear in the specific establishment, people still manage to fuck it up. But regardless of the sign, I just feel like its common sense what you should and shouldn’t wear.

“Boots, sandals, and those fucking weird toe shoes”

I will never understand how the fuck people wear boots to the gym. Are you working out in the snow? My boots way about 5 pounds each, so why would I drag them around the gym? And the sandals, I mean, these are just self explanatory. Like god forbid you drop a weight on your toe. Actually, if you’re wearing sandals at the gym, I hope you drop a weight on your toe. The weird toe glove shoes, or whatever you want to call them, are just bizarre. You want to wear them that’s fine, but tell me how you are washing the disgustingness out of them every time you wear them.

“Jeans and Cargo Shorts”

Jeans have become more comfortable over the years but why wear them to the gym? I wear the same god damn gym shorts I wore to 7th grade gym class and the dude next to me is working out with a pair of true religion jeans on. If you’re going to wear expensive clothes to the gym, go to Lu Lu Lemon man, they’ll get you all your expensive gym attire. Also, you don’t need to wear cargo shorts to the gym. What are you keeping in those pockets? There must be something I’m missing.

“Basketball Jerseys”

I don’t think that this one is a rule up front, but its just aggravating. Kobe Bryant doesn’t even work out in his basketball jersey, why are you doing bicep curls next to me wearing that jersey? That shit is not fucking comfortable, and you know it, I know it, and so does everyone else.

“Shirt cut all the way down to your hips”

How did you even do that? Did you buy it like that? I just don’t get the point of this one. Good circulation I guess. I hope guys bring back half shirts soon instead, of this shit soon. If I could wear a half shirt, I probably wouldn’t have so much belly button lint.

“Men with spandex”

Take your cock somewhere else.

“Socks up to your thighs”

What is this, the 7th grade? Are you dressing up for school spirit day? I see the same guy wearing these socks almost every day at the gym. I don’t know whether it would be worse if he was wearing the same pair of socks everyday, or if he has that many pairs of long socks.

“Women with make-up on”

I don’t know if this is a misogynistic thing to say or not but what the fuck. This girl at the gym yesterday was wearing a full face of make-up and bright pink eye shadow. I know you’re not wearing the make up for me or whatever, but you look like a clown. I don’t know exactly what a full face of make up really is but my girlfriend told me that’s what it was. I can’t imagine how sweat doesn’t pour that down your face. I got fucking P!nk working out next to me and a white guy wearing a doo rag with pink fucking capris and a black silk vest. Where am I?

But hey, after all, at least we’re all getting healthy. I have a funny feeling that half these guys are throwing the skis on and hitting the slopes hard before they show up to the gym, doing some BOOGERSUGAR, a little of that nose candy if you know what I mean. So, to each their own I guess. But for me, I’m going to stick to my Reebok shorts and ratty t-shirts that I stole from the laundry room in college.

 

What Did You Say to Me?

I find myself asking this question way too often throughout the week. One of my patients will ask me something absolutely outrageous. I work with a lot of dementia patients, so there are some outright outlandish things said throughout the day. Now some people may think it is coarse that I talk about these things, but any kind of dementia is a pretty bleak disease. So, you have to laugh at these things. Not all of the quotes are from dementia patients though. Sometimes I just have people who say or do the craziest shit to me. So, here we go.

“I don’t have coffee before I come here because I drink it then I poop.”

This is what some people might say is a bit too much information. I am a speech-language pathologist. I really don’t need to know anything about your bowel movements. Yet for some reason, people think that if you are a medical provider, they need to tell you anything. It’s all sorts of stuff that people spew but mostly its about their bowel movements.

“Oh fuck yes”

“Whats wrong?” I asked my patient. “My brain is going down,” he responded. “Your brain is going down?” I asked.  “Oh Fuck yes,” he responded. This is my patient describing how his brain feels. This one is a little bit morbid but I felt like I had to include it just because of the way he said it. He was hysterically laughing. telling me that his brain is going “down.” It makes my job somewhat easier when people can laugh about themselves. I have patients with dementia who will constantly be happy to come in and happy they are just alive, and I know this because I ask. Then you get someone who complains the whole time they are in therapy. So, this definitely makes my life slightly easier.

“My dog ate his fucking toe”

My patient had a birthday party and was telling me how his friends came from Florida. Well he kept mentioning how his friend was stuck in a wheelchair because he was paralyzed below the waist. My patient was saying how this guy did everything with them despite being in a wheelchair. Well at the party, apparently there were a lot of people there and it was chaotic. By the end of the night, this man in the wheelchair had passed out in the living room. Guess what, my patient’s dog ate this man’s toe while he was sleeping. Just bit off one of the middle toes, like it was a fucking bacon bit.

“Yeah, two heart attacks”

My patient was talking about his ex-wife. He is constantly talking about her. So, he kept talking about all the food she used to cook. So I said, “she was a good cook?” somewhat rhetorically because I just wanted to keep the conversation going. He responds, “yeah great cook, two heart attacks.” I guess long term cooking skills are determined by how many heart attacks you can give your husband/wife.

“I was a nude show girl”

Next thing I know I’m looking at a picture of my patient from 60 years ago with her tits hanging out. This woman also made the list of quotes with this gem.

“I wouldn’t fuck him for $100, even if I was still working”

She was talking about a doctor who got a little upset when she tried to take her shirt off in the room in front of him. The doctor wanted to wait for a nurse, as to cover his ass while there was a naked woman in the room. It makes sense, but she took it as if the doc thought she was trying to fuck him. Which she made pretty clear, she did not want.

The next few quotes are after an activity I do with my patients called “item function. Its not so much as an activity as its me saying, what’s this item do, or I give them a definition and they have to tell me the item.

“I once tried to put stuff in here” *pointing to his ear*

I asked this patient what he does with a spoon, and he pretended to take the spoon and pour it into his ear. To be honest, I’m not sure if he was fucking with me or if he really had no idea.

“Shoes? You usually buy two of them”

I asked this patient to describe shoes to me. The first thing he thought of was that you “usually” buy two, but sometimes if only one is no good, I guess you only get one?

“I use it to shut my wife up.”

“What do you do with scotch tape?” This is the response i got from that question. Old people either love or hate each other. I rarely find anyone in the middle. I asked this guy what he does with scotch tape and he responds with, “I use it to put over my wife’s mouth to shut her up.” 50 years of marriage has its intricacies I guess.

“My dick”

This was an answer to one of my questions. I don’t know if there was a mix up or if maybe in his world, he was right. But, I asked him, “what do you hold in the rain?” and he told me “my dick.” So, apparently he holds his dick in the rain. This guy talks about his dick a bit too much.

“War is when two countries get together and fight each other.”

This simplified version of war seems to be a little bit too similar to how people get together to play poker. But he has a point. “How would you describe war?” Just when two people get together to kill each other. Pretty honest definition if you ask me.

“If I’m bad it’s used as a whip.”

I wish that this was an example of me needing to call someone because they were getting abused. I really do. Because when an 80 year old patient looks at me coyly and says, “If I’m a bad girl it can be used as a whip.” You just sort of lose desire to continue on with the day. But kudos to her for still having a good time with her mans, however they want to do it.

Here is the last and final quote that I’d like to share and honestly this one may be my favorite one of all time.

“I’ve shoved so much coke up my nose before, I don’t know why I can’t do THIS.”

This was said to me as I was trying to stick a scope up someone’s nose. She wasn’t sure why she couldn;t handle the scope when she knew damn well she stuffed enough coke up her nose in the 60’s 70s and 80s, to kill an elephant.

So, for some reason my patients continue to indulge me with these fantastic quotes. Some people might say I’m taking advantage of my patients by exploiting their quotes but fuck those people. If I couldn’t laugh about the morbid shit I deal with everyday, I would be a miserable prick to be around. Instead of that, here ya go folks. Here’s some Saturday morning reading material.

 

 

A Whole New World

So, this is another roommate story that I have yet to tell. I’ve been meeting to put the metaphorical pen to paper for this one, but I just haven’t got around to it. When I moved into a house with these two people, I felt like it was great. I am still friends with one of the two people that I lived with. It isn’t that I just can’t live with people. There’s no way this one was my fault. Living with these people was great. Everyone got along. Our schedules never conflicted. It was beautiful. We even all hung out every once in a while. It wasn’t until May, 4 months after I moved in, that everything went downhill.

I really have no idea how the whole dispute started, but I’m going to do my best to describe this situation in as much detail as I can from my point of view. My two roommates, the homeowner and another renter, were in a fight over something. Who knows what, but shit hit the fan when the homeowner decided he wanted to redo the floors by the bedrooms. For some reason, “the renter,” decided she did not want anyone to open the door to her room to do the floor up to her door.

Now, it’s one thing to not want strangers in your room. I get that. Totally understand. But the landlord was going to be home, supervising the whole thing. It wasn’t as if a bunch of people were going to be in her room going through her shit.

So, in the spirit of keeping me out of this whole thing, one day I came home, and she asked me “hey, can I talk to you about something?” So, here we go. Now, I basically already knew that she was very upset about the whole thing, but I was ready to hear her side of the story now. Usually, I’m a full believer that there are three sides to every story, your side, my side, and the truth. I was pretty sure her side of the story was going to be about as crazy Trump’s last 5 tweets. I was not disappointed. She told me all about how upset she was about the strangers in her room but it wasn’t because of what you would think. She didn’t think her shit was going to be stolen. She didn’t think it would get dirty. No, she told me it was because she didn’t want people stepping on her rug because it had special powers.

Special powers, good vibes, whatever the fuck she called it. I call it crazy. I tried to keep a straight face when she said this, but I couldn’t. I laughed right in her face. I thought she was kidding but apparently, she really thought that. I wish the shit storm stopped here but it doesn’t. I get a text about a month later; I was already moved out of the apartment. She texted me and asked me if I threw out her graduation flowers. I really didn’t know how to answer because I wasn’t sure. If there were dead flowers sitting in our kitchen I probably threw them the fuck out. I told her that and she gave me some sarcastic answer about how I should remember whether I threw out flowers or not. I apologized and said “sorry but throwing out flowers is not a significant memory in my brain.” 

I can’t imagine thinking that I would give a shit if someone threw out my flowers. Especially, because after she graduated she left the city for a week. Did she expect someone to take care of her beloved graduation flowers? I’m not too sure. I probably never would’ve wrote about this if she didn’t accuse me of maliciously throwing flowers away. After she did that, I had to write about my disdain towards her. Flowers… give me a break.  

I think about it, and I wonder if I’m the bad roommate. Am I the one who can’t be lived with? Am i better off living in a studio apartment alone? Should people not live with me? Then I remember that I don’t really give a shit. I especially don’t give a shit about her flowers. Whether I did or did not throw them out, I’ll never know. I do wish I could take a ride on her magic carpet. Maybe see a whole new world? Some shining shimmering splendor? The whole deal. 

When you decide to live in someone else’s home or apartment, just remember that it’s not your fucking house. Just like when you live with your mom and dad there are rules. Like don’t leave dead plants in the kitchen for a week. Don’t park your friend’s car in the garage without permission, and definitely don’t expect anyone to give a shit about your magic carpet. This is real life folks, not a fucking Disney movie, so get over yourselves.

Fact or Myth: Karma

I don’t know if it’s just the cynic in me, but I have a really hard time staying positive about the world. You want to see the best all the time but you can’t. Day after day the disappointment is unreal. You try to do the right thing but they just keep on pushing you down. Let me explain a little bit more in depth, the outrageousness of my Friday night.

It all starts with just wanting a slice of pizza. That’s all I wanted. I actually wanted two slices of pizza. Nothing crazy. I didn’t even want to try and find a sicilian slice. I just wanted two slices of pizza. Is that too much to ask? There are two places in this town that serve pizza by the slice. So, its about 7PM and I get my dog and get her in the car. We’re off to get pizza.

I get to the first place I walk in and the kid says, “what can I do to help you?” I tell him, “I’ll take two slices.” He says, “okay, hold on.” The guy goes in the back for two minutes. He comes back out and says, “We’re done serving slices for the night.” I respond, “what?” He says, “yeah, we’re done serving slices tonight.” I said, “you’re still open right?” He goes, “Yeah, I can make you a large pie if you want.” I said, “no, I don’t need a large pie, I need two slices,” turned around and walked out before the kid could spew anymore bullshit. So, I get back in my car and head to another pizzeria.

I get to the next place and I walk in. I stand there for three minutes before anyone even acknowledges me. Finally, the guy says “what can I do for you?” I say “I’ll take 2 slices to go.” This guy says, “we don’t have slice after 4.” I don’t even look at the guy. but I turn around and start walking out and I say loud enough for everyone to hear, “why even call yourself Joey’s NEW YORK pizza, if you don’t have a slice to go.” The taste of NY pizza isn’t the only good part. It’s the convenience of walking in and choosing whatever slice you want and having it, in under 5 minutes.

At this point, I’m devastated. I’m hungry and I’m pissed off. So, I decide to head home and see what’s in the kitchen. I get home and see this guy moving into the apartment right underneath mine. Thinking about karma and just trying to be an overall nice guy, I ask, “hey man, you need any help?” expecting to get the typical “nah, thanks though.” He says, “Yeah, we could finish up in 5 minutes if you can help.” So, I do the right thing and I bring my dog upstairs and start helping this guy out. Forty-five minutes later we’re carrying dressers into the apartment. Finally we’re done and it’s now 9:15. The guy asks what he owes me and I jokingly responded, “Just don’t ever say New Yorker’s are douche bags.” He takes me way too seriously and starts saying how he never thought that. Which reminded me my sarcasm doesn’t transfer well to others.

So, I go back up to my apartment and I get ready to call this Acai Bowl place because Marisa wanted one for dinner and I’ve never had one. I call this place, which is the only place within 15 minutes of the apartment. It’s 9:20 and they close at 10 according to their website. The guy answers and says, “Tail and Fin, how can I help you?” I tell him I want to place an order for pick up and he responds, “Oh, we’re closing up.” I look at the phone and say, “It’s only 9:20 and you close at 10.” He tells me, “Yeah we started closing at 9 tonight.” I ask him rhetorically, “then why even bother having a closing time?” and hang up the phone.

I’m livid. I’m starving and now it’s not even worth eating until Marisa gets home. She gets in at 10 and we decide to go to this restaurant called Pizza Rock. People rant and rave about this restaurant here. So, figured we’d try it. We ordered meatballs, a pizza and a calzone. I can eat basically anything when I’m hungry but this food was garbage. Hambuger helper makes better meatballs. The slice of pizza was smaller than my hand. The pepperoni was so over cooked it was curling up, like it had been microwaved. The calzone had maybe one slice of cheese in it. I prayed to god that the bartender asked how the calzone was so I could respond with, “Have you ever had a calzone before?”

It was so disappointing to be that hungry and have just horrible food in front of you. I honestly couldn’t believe it. After all this, I couldn’t help but think about how karma is a made up thing. You do the right thing and then this is how the world takes care of you. Real nice. My brain is screaming “SERENITY NOW!” as we drive home. I say to Marisa, “There’s no way this night could get worse. I guess it could rain, at least we have that going for us.”

We go home and decide we’ll hangout and watch some TV. Maybe have a drink and try to enjoy the rest of our night. But it did rain that night folks. The clouds were angry that day my friends. We get home and upon further examination of our dog. She seemed to have ripped out her stitches from her surgery that she had a couple days ago. Yep, she had a huge gaping wound on her arm now. How much better could this night get?

I now had to leave the house to go to the store to get all sorts of bandages to clean the wound and wrap it, because obviously the vet is closed at 12 at night. I’m not upset about having to do this. I’m just pissed off that the vet didn’t put a cone on the dog so she wouldn’t do that in the first place. So, here I am, Mr. Vincent, wrapping a dog’s wound at 12:30 at night. I thought about posting a picture of the wound here too, but it’s a bit graphic. Now here I am sitting next to this Sweet Tart we call Effie, while she pants and smiles at me like it’s a wonderful life were living. Which I guess she’s right. Despite getting surgery twice in 3 days, she’s still sitting here, happy as a pig in shit, waiting for me to stop typing so that I’ll pet her. Just a little thing about karma people, it doesn’t exist. Everything doesn’t always “even out” for everybody, trust me. For example, I haven’t won a single bet all year. I don’t see that turning around anytime soon nor do I see the stupid shit that happens to me on a daily basis turning around anytime soon. So, despite all the bullshit, I wake up, put a smile on, and try the day all over again. No one is going to throw good luck upon me. Trust me, make your own karma, because no one is sitting anywhere thinking about you saying, “how can I make this unlucky jerk-offs life any different?” Only you can do that. When life shits on you, pop open your umbrella, throw on your boots, and weather the storm. 

 

It’s the Most Basic Time of The Year

It’s that time of year again. Every basic bitch has a pumpkin spice latte, a punny caption featuring the season, and a picture with a pumpkin they obviously carved with a stencil and yet so slyly leave that detail out. People start busting out there terrible scary movies and cuddling up to shit themselves and cover their eyes for an hour and 45 minutes. The ridiculous desserts and Autumn based foods make there way to the forefront. People stock their homes with gourds (who knows what the purpose of these disgusting growths actually are), nuts, leaves, and pinecones. Fall is a beloved season for most. Out here in the wild west, there really is no such thing as fall being that there are no leaves to even change color. Don’t get me wrong, I love a sugared up pumpkin flavored latte just like the rest of you shmucks. I’m even a sucker for some fall desserts. I’m as basic as they come. One thing, that I will never understand is the scary movies.

I’ll never forget the first scary movie I had ever seen. Of course it was the exorcist. Naturally, I’m scarred for life. Now when I say I watched this movie, what I mean is that I saw three seconds of it. I was at my friend Chris’s house for a sleepover in the 6th grade. It was me, him, and our friend Will. I was playing PlayStation while they were watching the movie. I wasn’t even watching, but I could obviously hear it. I looked over for three seconds at the scene where that little bitch pisses herself in front of all those people and I lost it. I had to go home in the middle of the night from a sleepover. I don’t think I cried, but I might as well have at that point. After that movie, I never really understood why people liked scary movies.

I still, to this day, do not like scary movies. I hate them. I’m still afraid to go to the bathroom in the dark after seeing the Amityville Horror House. I don’t like showering at night when no one else is home, and I’m literally afraid of the dark. Who isn’t afraid of the dark? You literally can’t see anything. You don’t know if that little Chuckie fucker is standing there waiting to stab you in the stomach.

The worst type of scary movie is the type with the scary little girls. I don’t know what it is about a screwed up looking 11 year old girl, but that shit is without a doubt the scariest. The Exorcist, The Ring, The Shining, etc. I can’t even stand to think about them.

The most recent scary movie I saw was It, with my girlfriend. This was the first scary movie we had seen together. Probably the first scary movie I have seen in a movie theater since high school. Prior to leaving, I yelled back to Marisa, grab my hat, my head gets cold in movie theaters. Obviously, I was just going to use my hat to shield my eyes from this terrifying demon shit. The movie wasn’t as creepy as other scary movies that ruined nights of sleep for me, but I still spent about 75% of the movie covering, or getting ready to cover, my eyes. After the movie, Marisa called me out on the whole hat thing. Which she undoubtedly knew about the second I asked for my hat. I got my scary movie fix for the year now. I don’t think I need to do another one.

Honestly, you can keep your Fall bullshit. Keep your pumpkin flavored everything, keep your apple cider donuts, keep your fall flavored candles and keep your scary movies. If I can’t go the season without getting coerced to see a scary movie than you can even keep my birthday. I’ll wait for Christmas. I’ll wait for Christmas movies, Christmas music, and halls decked with motherfreakin holly before I ever get dragged back in to the theaters to see another scary movie. Keep your thanksgiving turkey, I’ll take Christmas Lasagna. Screw your pumpkins, I’ll wait for cheesecakes and presents under the tree. I’ll take a warm fire over a pumpkin patch that smells like cow shit. I’ll take snow over rain. And I will sure as hell take Chevy Chase, Kevin McCallister ,and Buddy the Elf over Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, and those freaky little bitches in The Shining.