Tuesday, May 17, 2005

How to Blow Jobs!

I've been doing a lot of introspection lately (that's when you have somebody like a psychic put their thumb in your butt to tell your future) and I've come to realize a few reasons why I am currently unemployed.

  • I wear a headband, legwarmers, and a full suit of armor to every job interview.
  • I end every interview with "If you hire me, I'll try very, very hard not to rape anybody here, but I can't make any promises."
  • I always find a way to work in my infamous "How the United States would be so much better if the South won the Civil War" diatribe onto every job application.
  • I only apply at places where there is a direct ladder to climb that will put me at my ultimate goal: Snuff Film Director.
  • I have never learned the traditional "handshake" as many people know it. Therefore, out of nervousness, I resort to my primal instincts of throwing my shit at people.
  • When asked the question, "Where do you see yourself in five years?" My response of "Boning your wife on your houseboat" never goes over quite the way I feel it should.
  • When I send a Thank You card to the company that interviewed me, I probably shouldn't send the "Fat Girls Wearing Lingerie" novelty cards.
  • I arrive at the job interview in a rickshaw powered by my 9-year-old Vietnamese boy, Than.
  • When asked what my biggest fault is, I should definitely stick to something like "I'm just such a perfectionist" instead of "Sometimes, my cock feels like it's covered in Portuguese fire ants."
  • Right before I leave, I pull some condoms out of my pocket and say, "Well, I guess I won't be needing these," drop them on the desk, and walk out of the office.
If you all know any other reasons why I may not be getting these jobs, feel free to comment them below.

Interesting thought of the day:
Godzilla is more known for his city destruction than his charity work with underpriveleged and mentally handicapped children, and that's just sad.

Monday, May 16, 2005

Inappropriate: The Movie!

As a writer, I sometimes come up with ideas for movies that probably shouldn't be made. The following is a list of movies that I have come up with that are best left untouched.

Stuck In You - A coming-of-age comedy about a man who abuses his wife. One day, while giving her a much-deserved beating for letting the phone ring twice, he toe-punches her vagina and becomes stuck. Hilarity ensues when he has to go to work and deliver a big presentation with his wife still attached to his foot. Over the course of the day, the two grow closer together (pun intended and not!). They become so close, in fact, that after the man's foot is removed, they both decide that they're better off having his foot still jammed in her vagina where it will remain for eternity. End scene: After getting re-footed, the wife exclaims, "At least now your arms are too far to be able to punch me anymore!" They both laugh as the credits roll over the man swinging his arms wildly trying to punch his mouthy wife. Eventually he grabs a bat and beats he hell out of her. See? They've come full circle, but they've both learned something. And that's what movies are about: Learning, or porn.

Dog Days - A Holiday romantic-comedy about a man, David Freeman, who, after striking out with women, turns to the animal kingdom to fulfill his sexual needs. He decides that he's going to just be the cold, heartless, disconnected jerk that's just out for sex as a way of getting back at all the women who have slighted him. Instead, he ends up finding true love in the last place he would have thought to look (Beethoven's anus). Watch and laugh as David and Beethoven fight over not putting a new roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. Or, feel the sadness as David drops Beethoven off at the Pound in a case of cold feet as he seeks out younger tail (again with the puns! Does this guy ever stop?). Finally, feel the redemption as David arrives at the Pound to rescue Beethoven only to enter a moment after euthanasia has been applied. But, undeterred and still in love, the body is brought home where, while sobbing wildly, the dog corpse is made sweet love to for the last time. Miraculously, the power of man-dog love restarts Beethoven's heart and the two live happily ever after. Epilogue: Beethoven dies.

Riding the Bus with My Sister - Rosie O'Donnell plays a retarded woman and Andie MacDowell plays her sister. It will be kind of like Rain Man, but Rosie O'Donnell in the Dustin Hoffman role. This is probably the most inappropriate one on the list. I usually don't censor myself, but I thought that this one was just too distasteful even for me.

I think my brain needs a shower after writing all that.

Interesting thought of the day:
I get Muscular Dystrophy and Multiple Sclerosis mixed up because I don't care about either one.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

My So-Called (Retarded) Life!

A while ago, I told the story about how, when I was in high school, I was giving blood and a retarded girl thought that it was necessary to hug me in order to make me feel better. Well, my interaction with the mentally handicapped doesn't end there, my friend. That same year, I had another encounter with a large-headed wonder, but in a much more disgusting (and surprisingly more sexually arousing) fashion.

In high school, I was friends with a girl whose mom was the nurse. So, a lot of days when it was too hot outside or whatever, we would hang out in the Nurse's Office. Well, here's something that not too many people know or even think about: The Special Ed kids use the bathroom in the Nurse's Office instead of regular bathrooms because of the potential for harassment from other kids or because of the fact that retarded people's genitals glow and it frightens the "normals." Also, a lot of times girls would go in there to get their feminine hygiene products that they needed (I don't know what feminine hygiene products means, but I'm assuming it involves things like vagina shampoo).

So myself and some friends are just hanging out in the Nurse's Office being 17 and very awesome, when one particularly ornery behemoth of a tard named Wayne enters. He was the stereotypical retarded kid. He was about 5'8", 230 pounds, but looked like he had been pulling a plow around for the past ten years of his life. On the spectrum of mental deficiency, he was much more toward the "can get in near-PCP-induced rages" end than the "thinks fart sounds are hilarious" end. Whenever you talked to Wayne, you were always gambling with your life.

Like many days, he went in to use the bathroom and, of course, was taking a while to make his way out. Everybody just assumed he got lost in there again. So he finally comes out and he's not wearing anything but his much-too-tight-for-him tighty whities. I'm no scientist, but I know that if my underwear is too tight, that could possibly make me retarded over a period of time as well. Actually, that wasn't all he was wearing. He was also covered in blood. There was blood on his mouth, all over his chest, legs, and big-ass retarded hands.

The other nurse frantically ran to him to check him out to find where he had cut himself. After a minute or so of not finding a single cut, she opened up the bathroom door to have a look inside. The walls were smeared with blood. There was nobody else in the stall for this retard to beat up, where did all the blood come from? Apparently, the used pads and tampons in the tiny trash cans by the toilets were a treat much too enticing for Wayne to pass up this day. He had himself a field day. Maybe in a past life he was a retarded Indian and this was his warpaint.

Ever since that day, this story has been my go-to on a first date. I have never, in my life, had a second date.

Interesting thought of the day:
If you're like me and you've always wanted to get shot just so you can tell people that you were shot, you should wait until the next time one of your appendages falls asleep to fulfill that dream; that way, it doesn't even see it coming, just like a baby.

Friday, May 06, 2005


Remember, a couple of days ago, when I said how I had a job working at a production company? Well, that was before I actually started the job. See, after working there for only two days, it was obvious that being told to clean the bathroom and track down a tire for the president's truck which had a flat wasn't exactly the route I was willing to go as a 26-year-old college graduate for less than $10 an hour at around 60 hours a week in order to get where I want to be. I won't say the name of the company, but it sure was no "Dream" "Work"ing there.

The only cool thing was that, since it was on the Universal lot, I was able to drive around the lot in a golf cart and head over to Amblin (Steven Spielberg's studios). That place was ridiculously cool looking.

On my first day there, I was told to take my own truck (something that they never told me in the interview I would have to do--I specifically looked for jobs where I would not have to do this kind of work), and drop off some DVDs for one of the executives of my company. They were in a meeting with Xzibit, so I got to see him laugh at me as I interrupted the meeting.

It was one of the most disappointing experiences of my life. I was under the impression that I was actually going to have a hand in the production of television shows that this "Dream" of a company produced. It turned out, though, that I had to make sure that I TiVo'd American Idol so that one of the presidents of the main company (I'll call him Shmeffrey Shmatzenberg) could watch it. Maybe I'm naive, conceited, or whatever, but it just seems odd that they would have a college graduate and all around raconteur like myself doing something that KoKo the signing gorilla could do (and wouldn't get yelled at for doing it all with a raging erection).

It was just absolutely nothing like I expected and, in fact, kind of leaves me at a crossroads. I don't know which direction to head from here because, while I know this is not the only way to get a job writing somewhere, it is disappointing to learn that this is the type of job that they offer somebody who has graduated from college. The work that I was to do there wasn't entry-level in the sense of a recent college graduate, it was entry-level in the sense of a recently-graduated Special Ed student.

Anyway, so that's my story and I, once again, am unemployed. I'm not sure where to look from here or what to do. If anybody has any thoughts or ideas, I'd love to hear them.

Interesting thought of the day:
All leather jackets in Canada are made from 100% Canadian Bacon (the John Candy movie, not the meat).

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Where have you been?

So I haven't written a lot lately. My bad, sweetheart. It doesn't mean I don't love you. It's just, sometimes you make me so angry and I have to punch you to let you know that I'm mad. If I just tell you, I don't think you quite understand how angry you make me.

Anyway. I've been busy getting a job. I don't know if I can specify exactly where it is, but it's for a pretty big production company. Right now the pay is less than I was making sitting at home doing nothing, but at least it's a foot* in the door**.

That doesn't mean I shouldn't have been writing--I've just been sitting at home waiting to hear--I was just too preoccupied. I'm getting ready to leave in a little bit to stay at a friend's house in LA for the next couple of days until the weekend when, hopefully, I'll go out and find a place to live.

Once I get settled there, I should be back to writing this thing with lots of new adventures (I can't wait until I get to tell the story about how Hollywood touched my balls).


Interesting thought of the day:
Glaciers are evidence that the ocean is just one big-ass oversalted margarita. The lime can be found wedged onto the north coast of Alaska.