April 6, 2013 § 6 Comments
Last time on Sub-Standard: After a less-than-pleasurable experience at two different Subways awhile back, I wrote this letter to Denise in customer service. It was fun and funny. I was hardly upset with the sandwich conglomerate, just a minor setback in our decades old relationship, but now I’ve got to say…
I’m a little perturbed.
I never did hear from Denise again. I imagine her sitting on a beach somewhere, maybe Cancun, and she’s just happy. Living the life I had always dreamed for her to live. I really wish I had though, because Subway pulled the absolute worst move that a food chain can pull when they’re trying to make up for mistakes gone by; a phone call and an appointment for me to pick up a free sub.
“But Kenny, you’re getting a free sub!”
“But reader, I asked for redemption, not an errand that I have to run!”
The “come in and ask for the manager” move is the absolute dregs of customer service in this society we live in. If it were in the Brat Pack, it would be Judd Nelson. What if I don’t feel comfortable talking to a manager at the Subway that I complained about trying to get something for free? What if, and I know this is impossible for you to believe Subway, but what if I don’t even want Subway for the next month or two? Oh, and by the way, what if they don’t believe me?
Bingo! Now you know why I couldn’t drop this complaint, a minor setback that would have been better solved by silence than by giving me a chore to do. You’ll be hard-pressed to get me to go to an appointment at the doctor or the dentist, let alone a fast food chain for a free $5 footlong. But that’s what they did when I got a call from some guy telling me that I could come in and ask for the manager (whose name I don’t recall because it’s not my job to recall names when you fu*k up my order. I have cousins whose names I don’t know) and that I would get a free sub of my choosing.
I took them up on their stupid offer anyway. That was a mistake.
It’s time for another edition of “My complaint to Subway”! By the way, I love that above the box on their “message customer service” box on the website are these words: This is where you write your message
Thanks. I would have never figured that one out. It’s a wonder that I ever managed to interact with society long enough to order a sandwich without shitting my pants and stripping off my clothes.
Here we go:
First off, I want to congratulate you. After years of escaping custody or detection it appears you are finally on to me. Yes, it is I, the Sandwich Bandit! Also known as the Sandit! All I have to do is go into any of your 1,000,000 locations across these grand United States and tell your employees that I received a phone call from a manager telling me to come in and get a free sub after they had screwed up, and they would give it to me. Unbelievable! I mean, we aren’t talking about just any free item here, we’re talking about a sandwich. Thanks to this scam, I haven’t had to work for 13 years.
But that’s not why I do it. It’s not about the tens of dollars I save on sandwiches, though it is nice to know what Donald Trump must feel like. No, I do it for the thrill. I can’t tell you how exciting it is to have adrenaline rushing through my veins as they are unwittingly toasting a sub that I will get for free even though I am totally fooling them.
It was all as my dad taught me to do from the time I was a little kid. You see, Curly Sue wasn’t only based on a true story but it was based on me and they changed it from a boy to a girl because Alisan Porter was too cute for words. I didn’t mind though, and I got a free signed six-inch meatball sub from Jim Belushi. He was kind enough to give me a free sub, and so to have you been doing for all of these years.
But today was perhaps the final day for me. I walked into your Subway on National Blvd and told them what I’ve been telling thousands of artists for years, that I had an issue with my last visit and was told I could get a free sub. As I waited for them to apologize and work it out, you can imagine my surprise when they didn’t comply.
“Look, I would have much preferred just a coupon but I was told to just come in and say what I am saying right now.”
She looked back at me deeply, silent, speechless. I wondered what her life must be like, what her hopes are, what she dreams of, and for that moment we weren’t a customer and a sandwich artist; we were one. We were friends, soulmates, lovers, dreamers, children, animals, we were wind and water and fire and stone. But only for a fleeting moment did we hold this glance of perfect understanding.
And then she told me that she couldn’t help me because she didn’t know what I was talking about, and so I paid regular price for a sub. Regular price?! I guess I’ll have to get a job again. I took out a loan just today to make up for buying a whole sub.
I’ll try again tomorrow and see if perhaps the dream isn’t dead. I just pray that never the day comes when a person makes a minor complaint and you simply send them a coupon, not much different than the millions of coupons you send out in the Daily, rather than make them go talk to a manager to make up for their last unpleasant experience at one of your 1,000,000 Subway restaurants in these grand United States. Please, don’t ever ever ever do that. It would be too sensible. I’ll just be here, finishing my full price sub and waiting for the day when Prince Charming comes along and simply buys my subs for me.
And now, we wait.
Here is a little bit more to the story, because that wasn’t detailed enough. I walked up to the Subway nervous because I felt like maybe they wouldn’t believe me because why would they? But that’s what I was told to do. I leaned in closely to the sandwich artist and whispered softly, “Yeah, I had a minor issue last time I was here and they told me I could come in and get a free sub?”
Then she sort of stared back at me like, “What the heck are you talking about?” Then she asked the other girl making a sandwich for someone else and when she stopped making the sandwich for the other customer, I was like “no no no, go back to her sandwich it’s no big deal.” I was embarrassed that I had to go into a Subway and ask for a free sandwich but THAT’S WHAT I WAS TOLD TO DO. After minor quibbling, I told her to just make me a sandwich (that sounds so misogynistic even if you’re AT Subway) and if it didn’t get worked out I would just pay for it. Because here’s the secret that I dare never tell anyone but I’ll reveal it to you just this one time.
I can afford sandwiches.
I don’t go around trying to screw over major corporations by stealing all of their sandwiches. But as a company providing something to a customer, when you fuck up, make up for it. Have make-up sex with me, in the metaphorical sense. Bang me hard with your cold cut combo and tell me it’s free and I’ve been a bad boy. Don’t give me a chore to do and then when I do it, make me pay for another sub. Which is exactly what I did because I felt like a FOOL in the first place. You do this to us because you know that a large percentage of people that complain will never take you up on your offer. The right thing to do would be to send me a coupon and tell me to go to hell if I don’t like it. Want to save paper? Great, you had someone email me in the first place so have her email me a one-time coupon. It’s so easy to do, even a moron like me that wouldn’t know “Where the message goes durr duh duh duh” would be able to do it and figure it out.
What could have been ended weeks ago rages on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go tell a wealthy widow that I’ve got a great investment for her and that I love her.
March 18, 2013 § 1 Comment
I don’t have much to say today. If you’re wondering what Subway’s response to my complaint was, so am I. Denise apparently did not take my email very seriously, which is bullcrap because what if the world is completely robbed of Sub-Standard? All I’m asking for is one chance, lady-who-responds-to-Subway-customer-complaints.
I just want to point out a quick observance of something we are all probably familiar with but something I also have never put much thought into. For the purpose of… there is no purpose. Appreciate it with me because I’m lonely? Yeah, I guess that’ll do.
I was seven when Kindergarten Cop (1990) was released. When you think about it, Kindergarten Cop is a great movie because it’s one of those movies that should transcend at least a couple of generations. I enjoyed it when I was 7 or 8 and saw it. I feel like it should also appeal to someone that was in high school at the time, or older, but then again this is completely untrue for me to claim because I am totally biased. I will never be able to see Kindergarten Cop in the way that someone born in 1960 is able to see Kindergarten Cop. I watch it now and I still love it, so that’s why I feel like it’s something for adults, but a lot of that is based in nostalgia.
Yet I have no idea how an Arnold Schwarzenegger-Penelope Ann Miller vehicle would be anything but a hit. Not to mention Miko f***ing Hughes, the most child actor of my generation. And it was Hughes that stole the show by delivering the line of the movie, the quote that should bring down the house whether it’s full of 7-year-old’s like me, or older people like my mommy and daddy.
I was sitting here today thinking of stand-up comedy and joke-telling and came back to one of the classics: The differences between men and women. Of course, “Women be shoppin’!” is one of my all-time favorites, with Dave Chappelle delivering the classic line in The Nutty Professor. It’s simple comedy (terrible comedy when not done ironically, which obviously it was here) that gets to the base of “what’s the joke about the differences between men and women?”
Women like to shop and men don’t!
Not much different than “black people walk like this…. but white people walk like this!” We laugh at our differences and that’s all observational humor is meant to do, laugh at who we are and what we can relate to, but “Women be shoppin!” was very, very simple. But you can get even more shallow than that.
I never thought about the joke in Kindergarten Cop as anything more than that, just a joke, and perhaps it could be said that it’s even a “lazy” attempt at humor, but now I see it as more than that. It’s more like the most perfect joke there is, because it points out the differences between men and women. No, it points out the difference between men and women. It’s exactly, to a tee, who a kindergarten student would do for observational humor if he was giving a stand-up routing to his class. And now I love it more than ever.
Boys have a penis, and girls have a vagina.
Indeed they do, Miko. Indeed they do.
March 4, 2013 § 15 Comments
On Saturday morning I got up at around 8 AM in a bad way. (I don’t see this phrase “in a bad way” used a lot so here it is with my first usage of it.) We got superbly hammered on Friday night and I didn’t eat very much so the hangover was especially worse and my cure for any hangover is usually “way too much food” because how much more damage could I do to my body?
I decided on Subway. I went to a Subway that I don’t usually go to because when I started driving I didn’t know where I was going then I said, “Subway b-fast is pretty good actually” and I probably actually said “breakfast” and not the shorter version in my head but I said it shorter there to save time. See how much time I saved? I decided on a six-inch something on flatbread. I don’t remember exactly what but it had egg (yellow) and other things. Use your imagination! I paid for it and left. No, I paid for it and also spend over $4 on a frappacino at the next door Coffee Bean. I’m not good with money or eating habits or drinking habits. So far this story is incredibly unflattering.
It gets worse.
After I demolished that six-inch sub (the size choice of six inches because I decided “I don’t need a whole damn foot of breakfast sub”) I went to a different Subway and ordered another six-inch breakfast sub. Damn it damn it damn it damn it. The first sub was okay, but mostly I was still not feeling well and just wanted to eat more things. I went to the other Subway and ordered a different six-inch breakfast sub. After we were wrapping up (pun) the order, the woman asked me if I wanted coffee or soda. ”No, I’m good” (which is code for, “I would love some more stuff but I’ve spent like $14 already on this random morning breakfast outing”) ’twas my reply. But there’s more she explained:
“Oh but it’s the same price.”
“BWAH!?!?!” because I probably did have an audible freakout over free soda or coffee. But mostly I was concerned that either A) The first Subway did not inform me of a free soda or coffee or B) that one of the Subways was just giving shit away without rhyme or reason. (Or maybe C) Different store policies because this is a franchise, but I just doubt that explanation.) I’m not mad at the first Subway, but I was curious as hell as to what was happened. I had to contact Subway and keep them abreast about the situation and what’s going on with some of their Los Angeles area Subways.
(by the fucking way, when I did a location search for Subways near my zip code, the below image is my result. There are more Subways than there are McDonalds, and holy shit that must be true. This is maybe an example of one square mile…)
It sort of reminds me of what maps will look like when a zombie invasion or virus outbreak happens in the world. ”This is what the country will look like after one hour. /next slide. After 1 day.” and then it keeps growing except in this case it’s just more and more Subways until the whole world is covered in Subways except for the oceans, in which only about 15% are covered with floating Subways.
I sent Subway an email through their website, which I sadly do not have anymore. It was kinda funny but I basically just wanted to know which Subway was right and that the woman at the second Subway did an excellent job of informing me of this free soda, unless there wasn’t supposed to be a free soda in which case reprimand her I guess? I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble!
Oh, the flatbread at both places was also stale and I did not even finish the second sub. This was 75% because it turns out I only need 2 more inches (lol!) of sub to satisfy myself but 25% because the flatbread was so stale that it was sort of like eating a sandwich in which you’ve used cardboard as the slices, which I guess you would call a “Hobo Sandwich” trademark.
Denise at Customer Care sent me this response:
Thank you for taking the time to share your comments with us.
In order to better assist you, I will need to know the exact location of the SUBWAY® restaurant that you have visited so that our regional office can investigate this properly. Would you please reply by e-mail or by calling me at 1-800-888-4848 ext. 8201 to provide me with a complete address of the location you visited or a nearby landmark. Please refer to the Customer ID listed below when replying.
I appreciate that you took the time and effort to contact us and am looking forward to hearing from you at your earliest convenience.
Fair enough! I was honestly wondering if Subway was going to respond because it had been two days and conglomerates usually have an entire nation of customer care people but then I realize now that it was the weekend and they also get a lot of complaints. I guess I’ve been soured too because I sent Apple an honest-to-God “this is Bullshit!” complaint a little while ago and they ignored me… twice!
I am actually a pretty sweet man to customer service people. Their jobs suck and they’re doing the best they can and it’s not their fault and they can only do so much. So on the phone or whatever I will try and make their day and be a fun-loving customer that’s had a rough interaction with their company. I am not mad at Subway, their reputation for stale bread precedes them anyway, but I decided to have fun with this one. I ended up having maybe too much fun, but could also have an Emmy-award winning show on our hands. Here is my response to Denise:
Hi Denise (that’s my mothers name too!)I looked up the locations on your handy website. Man, you guys have a lot of locations! Not a problem, everybody needs sandwiches and that kind of convenience certainly doesn’t sub me the wrong way.Subway #13028 was the second location. That girl should be given a raise, but I don’t know her name so I guess give all the girls there raises. They’ve always been nice to me. Oh wait, except the flatbread was so hard that I didn’t finish half of it. Keep everyone at the same payscale actually.Subway #13477 was the first location. I think that they should just know “Hey, free drinks!” if there really are free drinks when you order a certain breakfast sub, because that’s a great deal. If it really is a deal, you should be advertising it more. It could go, “Free. Free dollars. Free dollars driiinkkkss! Come on down to Subway and get a free coffee or soda with every sub sandwich purchase before 9 am! Can you believe we’re just giving this stuff away? Tell ‘em Jared” and then Jared comes on and says, “You guys should really just be getting water anyway.” And then McKayla Maroney is all “I’m not impressed, get me a diet coke!” and then the two of them, Jared and McKayla Maroney stand back-to-back with their arms folded and a look like “This guy!” Maybe it could even be a sitcom this fall on NBC? The show could be called “Sub-Standard” and it’s about Jared from Subway and he’s dating McKayla Maroney and he’s always trying to lose weight or gain muscle and do better for her but always falling short and her catchphrase could be like, “Oh brother!” and his catch phrase after she burns him with another mean look will be “I didn’t ask if you wanted it toasted or untoasted!” Is she 18 though? Look, I haven’t thought this all the way through yet, I’m just spitballing. Tell me if you think that will work Denise.Also get back to me about the stale bread I guess, but mostly your thoughts on “Sub-Standard”.Thanks and have a wonderful day!Kenny (writer and creator of Sub-Standard. Also plays the whacky neighbor ”Mr Fundek”)
December 28, 2012 § Leave a Comment
To understand a person and how they came to be the person that they are today (though you never truly understand a person) you have to trace back to every day of their existence. Every day is a brick, a chair, a room with a trampoline as a floor since my lifehouse can have that, its my lifehouse metaphor. You may not understand the theme of this article by me only giving you a little bit of background into my upbringing, it simply will not suffice, but I can try.
I was raised by a single mother from the time I was 3, though I am sure she was always raising me alone from the time I was born, since my father had other places to be. I have one sister, four years older, and she was cursed with a curse that all sisters have: She is a girl, and girls, especially ones that are four years older, do not want to hang out with their brothers. When my sister was 10 and I was 6, she wanted to be 16 and I wanted to be 6. That’s just the routine for young boys and girls and so I did not play with my sister very often.
In fact, I can’t recall a single time that I did so without her feeling forced to do so.
So what is a boy left to do during his formative years without anyone telling him how to form? Watch movies. And when there is no television, as we canceled cable several times for financial purposes, make shit up! I spent countless hours jumping around the couch shooting imaginary bad guys with my imaginary guns. I put my action figures into action. I will never forget the time that I was having a funeral for one of my toys, a G.I. Joe lost in battle that was being given an epic send-off, and humming Taps as the other action figures carry his body to the grave, except for one fatal error: It turns out that I did not know Taps, or at least I had gotten confused, because my mother came by and asked why I was humming the wedding song.
*pulls tight collar away from neck and says ‘oh. boy.’*
But that was my childhood. Not the part where I accidentally passed a gay marriage bill for my action figures, but the part where I was living in a reality made up of either movies and television half of the time, or whatever war, adventure, or game-winning sports play that I deemed to be possible for the rest of the time. It’s not that I, at the age of 4 or 8 or 16 or I-should-probably-stop-now, actually believed that I hit the game-winning shot for the Seattle SuperSonics in Game 7 of the NBA Finals (or that they actually allowed me nine attempts to hit the shot) because I am not a psychopath or completely delusional, but I did live with the idea that the world is whatever I want it to be.
I did not choose the reality as we know it. I did not create the Earth, the Sun, the Oceans or the iPod. Those realities are out of my hand. But whenever I want to, I can create a different world, a world where anything is possible and I can be anybody. Who would not want to live in that world?
In movies like Pan’s Labyrinth or The Science of Sleep, these imaginary dreamscapes are better described than what I could explain, but it’s something like that except without really seeing these worlds, settings, or characters. You just have to believe it. And so when I had time to myself as a kid, which was plenty often, I could be whoever I wanted to be and live where ever I wanted to live and the rules of science and math and physics only exist as I allowed them to exist. I don’t live in these worlds much anymore (I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t caught a few game-winning Seahawks touchdowns in my bed over the last couple of years) but that does not mean that I don’t still believe. Whereas I created these Universes* as a child for the purposes of entertainment and passing the time, now I use these same principles as a means of coping with the many unanswered questions that turn the Sun and our very existence into an enigmatic Rubik’s cube for which I will likely die before solving.
I am a logical and rational human being. I don’t want you to think that I have completely lost my shit. I know that the laws of physics seem rather legit. I don’t doubt that E does equal MC squared, even though I could not tell you how Einstein got there or how it makes my popcorn pop in the microwave, but I have no reason to think it’s bullshit. (I mean, I heard that nutrinos could fuck that up, but once again, not my field of expertise.) However, why do we, as people, have to stop there? Why do we have to accept anything and everything that has been told to us? You once told me motherfucking Santa Claus was real and THAT was bullshit, so why should I just bend over, look over my shoulder, and say “Sure, shove the laws of gravity up my butt, I’ll take it.”?
Yeah, gravity seems VERY legit. But what if I told you that tomorrow, there would be no gravity? Or that it would be like Moon gravity and we raised the NBA hoops to 25 feet? You can tell me that it won’t happen, but I will reply, “Why not?” And you would give me a verifiable 100% scientific answer as to why it wouldn’t, but that’s not really the point of what I’m trying to convey.
Here are some questions I would pose to you:
- What if time travel is real? How could you ever really know for certain? The life that you are living right now, what if it didn’t exist until a second ago? What if before that second, someone from the future went back in time and shot Abraham Lincoln and so now you’re Tim Carter instead of Tina Leone? What if Marty McFly was a real person?
- What if the Matrix is real? Fuck, how should I know??
- What if tomorrow you are eating Haagen-Dazs and watching Family Guy and then all of a sudden a vortex pops up behind your couch that leads to God knows where? Would you go through it? You most certainly would at least throw in the ice cream first or eat it all first.
- What if you weren’t even you until this very moment? What if you were transported into this body at this second and implanted with all of your memories that you think are real? What if you’re Quantum Leap but if Quantum Leap didn’t know he was Quantum Leap and what am I trying to stop from happening? Who do I have to stop from getting married or killed?
I am not trying to say that I necessarily believe all of the above because I pretty much don’t. I know that tomorrow I will wake up and go through my regular routine. The sky will be there, the Earth will be there, episodes of Sweet Valley High will still be around somewhere. I know this. But damn it, it doesn’t mean that I am absolutely and utterly against the idea that anything is possible. Please, for the love of Sweet Valley High, tell me that anything is possible.
Tell me that we will all be able to fly tomorrow. Tell me that one day I will get to jump in John Malkovich’s head. Tell me that I can be Limitless like Bradley Cooper in Limitless. Don’t we all sort of get by on hope? Don’t we all sort of get out of bed for a reason and not only because we have to (because hey, you don’t have to do anything), not only because we want to, not only because of what already is, but we also get out of bed because of the things that don’t exist.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
GET OUT OF BED!
“I need to pay my bills.”
GET OUT OF BED!
“I can’t walk.”
SOMEBODY HELP HIM OUT OF BED!
Everything we do in life should at least hinge somewhat on the idea that we are going to get something today that we did not have yesterday. Is today the day you fall ass-backwards into a windfall of cash? Is today the day that you look in the mirror and are satisfied with your physique? Is today the day that new episodes of Arrested Development are released? We need a little something to motivate us to go on. We need a little something to believe in. Maybe for me, that little something is the ability to fly, to find a vortex, or to travel back to the day when stock in Microsoft was like $10 a share.
Maybe when I was a bored little boy whose sister wouldn’t play with him I created these worlds and beliefs to pass the time and make the day a little better, but even as an adult I still hold out hope that anything is possible- so that I may pass the time and make the day a little better. It makes the morning more palatable. It makes existence more fruitful. It doesn’t make the Universe more understandable, but perhaps easier to cope with since we know we don’t know very much about it anyway.
For me, that’s all I need to wake up. That, and an action figure wedding.
*Side-Bar About Creativity, Writing, and Comedy
People often attribute creativity to some inherent attribute that never had to be worked on or molded. Many people think that if you are an adult writer, director, painter, musician, or likewise, then you are just one of the “lucky” ones. I have told people that I write and they immediately say “Well shit, maybe I should write too!”
I can probably weave a quick tale, story, subplot, or narrative together for you right now but it’s not because that shit is easy to do. If everybody was a good writer, then 99% of screenplays wouldn’t wind up in a: Fireplace, waste basket, shredder, Recycle Bin on your desktop, or turn into emergency toilet paper. And guess what? If I turned in a screenplay to Hollyweird right now, best be sure that it would wind up in the same place. Maybe if I keep working on it for 8 or 10 or 15 more years, we will see what happens, but where I am today at 30 wasn’t because the writing fairy tickled my nutsack when I was 2 days old and said “You get to be a writer!” No, do you want to know how people become creative? They were really fucking bored for a really fucking long time and so every single fucking day they worked that muscle. For me, I did not work it with the purposes of turning it into anything; it was a means of survival. I watched 1-4 movies every single day. I made up shit every single day. I spent all day in class scribbling and doodling and making up villains, heroes, space battles, and monsters on paper because the I was more interested in that than I was in math. (Maybe an occasional pair of boobs.)
What did a scientist do in class? Probably spent all day in the lab because he or she couldn’t get enough of the beakers and such.
What did a philosopher do in class? Wondered what the fuck he or she was doing there.
What did LeBron James do in class? Probably jack shit because he was great at basketball, but hey, he was/is great at basketball!
Everybody everywhere gets something out of something. You are where you are at least partly because of the shit you enjoyed when you were a kid and how you spent your days. You: Perhaps a musician that picked up a guitar when you were 5 or 9 or 14. Me: Kind of a loser actually. I always had A friend, but I never had like 30 friends. So I coped with my childhood by making shit up and watching TV. You know how funny people are funny? They coped with the society of bullies or feeling that they needed attention or not feeling like they were good at anything else. I was a child that thrived, no thirsted, no hungered, no needed-or-i’m-going-to-have-a-fucking-fit on laughter. Nothing makes ME feel as good as when YOU are having a laugh. Comedians can go through 10+ years of stand-up before making any kind of names for themselves. The first few years are even rougher because you bomb a lot and frankly that’s no different than a classroom. You have to re-live the days when your first *fartnoise* joke causes rolling in the aisles, but dead silence because “Hey we’ve heard that one before, Kenny. Say some shit about crayons!”
I know a lot of people that read blogs, especially on WP, are writers or bloggers themselves. I’m not saying you, yes YOU /reaches through Laura’s computer screen/ are a person that would say that writing is something that comes natural to people, but a lot of people seem to have that inclination. Fuck no it does not come natural and neither does comedy. This is something you live with. This is how you cope. This is something I have been working on before I knew you needed to work on shit to get good at it.
It just so happens that writing for 40+ hours per week has only happened in the last two years. But there was a pretense of over two decades in which I fine-tuned and worked and molded that muscle. In retrospect, I should have been a doctor. But instead, I am a person that likes to write and make jokes. It was not natural.
*Side-Bar Over* *Overruled*
December 12, 2012 § 5 Comments
Yes. Or at least I think so. That or some weird genius has hacked my OkCupid and made my profile 100x better. Let’s start from the beginning…
I was not much of a drinker as a teenager. I wouldn’t say it’s because I was a “good” kid but I wasn’t really a bad kid either. Sure, I wound up in the principal’s office about once a week, but for a person that thrives off of making people laugh with witty interruptions, Sex Ed class is basically entrapment. Other than that, my weekends basically consisted of trips to Hollywood Video with friends, popcorn and snacks, me eating most of the snacks, very tame stuff really.
This was not always the case though and at one particular party I had shown up late and decided to “catch up” with a bottle of whiskey. (I can’t pinpoint the exact age I was when this occurred, but I believe it would have actually been around 18 or 19, after graduation. I don’t know why I am adding this tidbit, except that my mom will probably read this and she worries. Even about things that happened years ago. She probably believes that I will still get an MIP ticket in the mail for even writing it now, ten years later. #Moms.) Moral of the story: Don’t play catch up with a bottle of Black Label whiskey if you aren’t a qualified drinker, or ever really.
Next and last thing I know, I’m running around the backyard with my shirt off and spinning it around over my head like I’m Petey Pablo. I raise up the following day, sitting in a lawn chair the next day, a total mess, and I’m hungover but fine. Until the psychological mind-fuck of being told that I did things that I do not remember doing. ”What is this concept of ‘blacking out’? You mean that alcohol erases memories???” It’s a pretty scary situation to think that you can do things and not remember, but I honestly had no idea that I had fallen down that chasm of having too much to drink. It scared me to the point of never wanting to drink again.
And then I went to a school notorious for over-consumption of alcohol and blacking out became activity du jour. I don’t want to sound like an alcoholic that anybody should be concerned about, I gave up drinking for 3 years without even having a necessary intention to do so but only because I was in a relationship with someone that rarely drank. It was not hard. What is hard is ‘H.A.M.’ and that’s how I drink. I’m not ashamed of this and I won’t sugarcoat it.
Flash-forward to this week when I check in on my OkCupid profile and realize that everything has been changed. I have a vague recollection of going onto the site a few weeks ago and perhaps thinking that I would “mix it up” but that is all I remember. The words that I read though were not ones that I recognized. I don’t remember writing any of this, really, but holy shit do I love it. Either some very funny person has written over my profile and hacked into my account (for what purpose, I could not even fathom) or when I black out I become some weird genius.
Let me begin by saying that I no longer associate OkCupid with finding a girlfriend. The site is a joke if you are looking for an honest relationship. It is a free site aimed at under-30s (of which I am dangerously close to not qualifying for anymore anyway) and as I’ve written here before, it is mostly for people looking to sex one another. Not being the most attractive guy, needless to say that my success rate wasn’t that high and therefore I run ramshod on my answers. There is no need to be genuine on that site about who you are, what your desires are, and what you’re looking for in a girl or guy. In recent months I’ve changed it from normal into one that I purposefully designed to be “the worst profile on OkCupid” (a la ‘I love pooping my pants, etc’) to a site that said “I want to meet girls that absolutely hate my fucking guts only” and the like. Guess which two of those three profile themes were the most successful?
The site is a joke.
Thankfully my profile is the best joke I’ve ever read and if I really wrote this when I was drunk, I should only be writing when I’m drunk. Be forewarned that weird, nonsensical, anti-humor is my favorite kind of humor right now. Maybe you do not find it funny.
But I think I’m drunk-fucking-hilarious and if I really did this, I can’t believe how clever and coherent most of the writing is. I really think I must have been hacked by Odd Future or something.
I do not know who Jerry Osguando is, but he actually seems pretty insightful. A modern day Yogi Berra.
A couple of typos help support my blackout theory, as does any Pauly Shore reference, but were the typos intentional?
Let’s just get this out of the way: That last line is better than anything I’ve ever written sober. Which makes me question if I did write it.
Not the best but weird as shit.
Some of the following though is amazing:
Tonto: More like Pronto is definitely my style. I’m actually working on Sky Scrapers 6. We Make It Hot: Best Hot Mixes is in my CD player.
Two suspicions here: I absolutely love this song by Brian McKnight. Not kidding. 2. ‘Buck’ is actually a term my friends use for drinking. ”Getting buck” aka “Get buck wild.” Did my friends screw with me? Not likely, they don’t know that Brian McKnight song. I possibly used the term buck here and I could understand why. My case for me writing this is getting very strong.
Again, the thing about NASA going on a team building trip and trampolines is also better than anything I’ve ever written. That’s next-level weird shit.
That thing about babies is just weird, but also kind of sweet because it implies perhaps that I am a cancer doctor for babies. Then I continue to talk about doctors here, this time a dumb doctor that believed my theory on the world, but then improperly use the word “hear” instead of “here.”
And here is the grand finale:
No, I don’t REALLY want someone that is into beastiality. But that joke is fucking great.
I am going to go ahead and take credit for this profile unless someone dares to stop me and say that they did it instead. If you did, great, please step forward because I’d like to meet you. Most of these jokes are right up my alley though, I just didn’t know what I was capable of until I turned into a blacked out monster. As far as getting any responses from it?
No. But if any girl found this to be as hilarious as I do, I need to put a ring on her dazzlefinger.
September 22, 2012 § 7 Comments
Pizza in the morning, pizza in the evening, pizza at supper time. When pizza’s on a bagel, you can eat pizza any time.
We are all familiar with the jingle. If you want a refresher course, here is the commercial. It first starts with “Now you can give them pizza WHENEVER they want.” This is only about the song, so let’s just get this first part out of the way…
Parents have no interest in how they can give their kids pizza whenever they want. It’s very low on their list of priorities. Right below “How can I get them to run around the house yelling and screaming more?”
Let’s talk a little bit about what’s wrong with the jingle:
Pizza in the morning STOP
People are already eating pizza in the morning.
Pizza in the morning STOP
I have never actually had a bagel bite in the morning, as I can recall it, but I feel that I’d be about 10,000 times less likely to have a bagel bite in the morning than a slice of pizza. I don’t usually wake up and say, “Hmmm… the roof of my mouth feels fine. How can I fuck that up?”
Pizza in the evening STOP
There was not a shortage of people having pizza in the evening.
Pizza in the evening STOP
Bagel bites are really a snack or maybe a lunch. I’m not going to lie to you and act like I’m all high and mighty and haven’t eaten 10 bagel bites in the evening or in the middle of the night, but my honest opinion is that MOST people eat a bagel bite in the middle of the day. Afternoon, noon, lunch time… it’s never mentioned.
Pizza in the evening, pizza at supper time STOP
Now, I have never lived in an area where “supper” was a term that anyone used, but as I understand it and as Wikipedia explains it, supper is an evening meal. It seems to me that supper has ALWAYS been an evening meal. Is this line not redundant? That’s like saying, “Pizza is some pizza, eaty eaty pizza, did you know that pizza is pizza?”
Pizza in the morning, pizza in the evening, pizza at supper time STOP
So when it comes down to it, we’ve named just two times that you can eat pizza when it is on a bagel.
When pizza’s on a bagel STOP
This is more of a pet peeve maybe, but can we please not compare this:
To fucking pizza?
Pizza is not on a bagel. It looks more to me like four to seven tiny cubes of fake pepperoni, 10-20 tiny cubes of fake cheese and maybe a few cubes of fake sauce. And then I have to ask myself what the hell constitutes something actually qualifying as a bagel.
When pizza’s on a bagel, you can eat pizza any time STOP
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.
When I was a kid, this made some sense to me. The size makes it portable, the way it’s kept makes it accesible at any time, as a child I’m saying to myself “Fool proof.”
As an adult, here is how the song should go instead:
Pizza in the morning, pizza in the evening, pizza at supper time. When you’re a fucking adult you can eat pizza any time.
There is nothing about a bagel bite that actually makes it more okay to eat at any given time, and in fact, there are probably less times to eat pizza on a bagel than just regular pizza. I’m also just dumbfounded and confused as to why the company is selling the idea to parents that they can now give their kids pizza any time. When did parents start a national letter writing campaign to congress that there weren’t enough ways to give their kids pizza?
I’m not better than bagel bites. I’ve had plenty of them in my lifetime. But I think we’re all better than this completely confusing, terrible, non-sensical, and incredibly catchy jingle.
I’ll give the song that, it’s catchy. I can listen to it at any time, both in the evening AND at supper time.
August 31, 2012 § 2 Comments
So like I’ve been saying lately, I haven’t had much time as of late to write here. I currently have 14 stories that I need to do between today and next Saturday, each of which will take at least an hour, and that’s just for one website. In total, I will have to write about 20 stories in the next week or so. TWENTY! At least!
However, it’s Friday and that means I can do a quick Pound-Pound for a Twitter account and today’s “winner” (in quotes because you’ve won nothing, sorry dude) is @egg_dog.
What is egg dog? Nobody knows. It is a dog that tweets about the most random, unexplainable, life observations on a daily basis. Best part of all is that even though it’s a dog that can write, he can’t write very well. Just enough to be understood. Here are some of Egg Dog’s top tweets:
@egg_dog: facte: you eat 28 spiders in your lifetime. always 28. if you are about to die and you have only eaten 3 then 25 spiders arrive at once
(That tweet received 562 favorites and 922 re-tweets. Holey sht!)
@egg_dog: those bread ends u hate? theyre bread parenthesis w/out them thered b bread everywhere no way to stop it wed b fucked trapped in bread hell
@egg_dog: adjectives #WordsThatDescribeMe
(simpel and affective)
I think that’s enough to convince anyone that’s on twitter to follow the egg dog. The best part about it is that usually I’ll write a bit about the person that’s tweeting but I don’t know a damn thing about this doggy. That makes my job really easy. Go follow. Unless you’re not on twitter, then you’ve already won.
July 16, 2012 § 6 Comments
Never been kissed? Are you a 40-year-old virgin? Can’t hardly wait? Operation Dumbo Drop?
Wait, one of those doesn’t fit. I meant to say “Fools rush in” instead of “Can’t hardly wait.” Yes, that’s it.
I continue my endless and sometimes fruitless journey to understand love and relationships with a look at marriage relative to age. In baseball we have a term called “age relative to league” that compares a baseball prospects age against the average age of other players in that league. The younger you are compared to the players around you, generally the better. You want to see athletes be better at a younger age, giving them more room for growth and advancement as they get older and then who knows how successful they could be later on in life.
This does not work the same for marriage. It’s harder to grow and advance in relationships or getting to know more about yourself during those formative years of your late teens and early-to-mid 20s. This was hardly the case only a couple of generations ago, but in the modern era, people simply are growing faster and waiting longer. Now those years are time for “experience” and that experience won’t be the same if you’re in the most serious relationship of all: marriage.
Take Lorraine for example.
This innocent Yahoo! Answers question posted three years ago asks “How many people get married after 30 or 35?“
The asker, Cathy, was “Just curious? And had kids?” Cathy was already feeling pressured to get married at 24, but the answer re-assured her that she could and probably should wait before rushing into anything. Something that Lorraine apparently did not do and look how long it took her to regret it:
“i am 18 and married, its been 3 months and i should of waited. still sooo immature and hard to understand eachother. and no kids yet, thank god. but we trying to keep it going, and we will, just going to be tough. so wait and think hard.”
Only three months into her marriage, Lorraine seems to deeply regret it. She acknowledges she’s too immature for this marriage, and we acknowledge that she still think that “Should of” is the same as “Should have” when it’s clearly not. And clearly, Lorraine was not ready for marriage.
What made her rush into this? How could she have been so blind before marriage and then make this realization only after the license was issued and the “I Do’s” were said? Who names their kid Lorraine if they were born after 1960?
So many questions and so few answers.
I delve deeper into marriage and age today to take a look at how important it really is but also noting that no matter how long you wait, the odds say you’ll eventually
sacrifice pledge your eternal love to someone.
Just like baseball, let’s turn to the statistics and ignore the chemistry:
There are almost as many unmarried adults as there are married ones
In 1960, over 70% of people over the age of 18 were married. Think about how much of a loser you would have felt like if you were unmarried at 26 during the free love period of the sixties. Being a 40-year-old virgin today is the equivalent of being a 22-year-old virgin in 1960 when you account for inflation.
A report from the Pew Research Center of last year shows that now just 51% of Americans over 18 are married. Think about how significant that difference is.
The difference between being the only odd person out in a group of four against being in that same group of four fifty years later and knowing you have a single buddy. Then again, does that mean that in your previous group of four that you were single and the other three were all married to each other? Man, those sixties were wild times!
Whatever happened to key parties? Not even NBC shows about swingers are popular anymore, let alone actual swingers. But also that could just be because its NBC.
Professor Stephanie Coontz of Evergreen State College (where my younger cousin goes to school. She better not learn about sex there, Mrs. Coontz!!!) explains that a large part of that drop off is the wait to get married. Now at 26 for women and 28 for men.
“And that’s actually a good thing, because the longer a woman delays marriage, right up into her early 30s, the lower her chances of divorce. But it does totally change the social weight of married households in our economy, our society, our politics.”
Notice how she stresses not how long “people” delay marriage, but how long women delay marriage. It’s the women that typically are asked the question, so its the women that have the power of when. I’m sure that women can find themselves in several situations during their twenties where the question is popped but just because its being asked doesn’t mean that the answer has to be “Yes.”
I couldn’t imagine that amount of pressure being put on a person in that situation, especially if they think its too soon but really like the person, but the delay until the time is right could be crucial to the success of the relationship.
I would also say that there is almost no situation in which you are a teenager in America that the answer should ever be “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Do you hear me, Lorraine?
The wait is important and has also reduced the number of married couples in the U.S. thanks to fewer and fewer people being married in their early-to-mid twenties. How much fewer?
Women and men married before 25 is only a fraction of what it used to be.
According to 2003 Census data, the number of men and women married in their early 20s is only a relatively small fraction of what it was in 1970. As a matter of fact, less than half as many women in their early 20s are married compared to the sexy seventies.
Back in 1970, only 35.8% of women age 20-24 had never been married, and only 54.7% of men were in the same boat. (The large difference between men and women obviously being because women typically marry older, meaning that you’ll have your best shot at marrying a college co-ed if you are her professor.) Compare that data to 2003 when a whopping 75.4% of women age 20-24 had never been married and 86% of men under-25 were also sans wedding ring.
Think about how phenomenal a difference that is over a relatively short amount of time. That data likely shrinks even more when you take into account women who are pursuing college degrees and a career before they get started on the family life, something much more common than it was back in the days of the Beegees and psychedelics.
Up the ante to the second half of your 20s and a lot more people are getting married, but still a large pool of single people:
Just 10.5% of women were never married by 30 in 1970 compared to 40.3% in 2003.
Just 19.1% of men under 30 were never married compared to 54.6% of men in 2003.
Last week I had written on this site about my own situation as an almost 30-year-old single nerd, but we can trust the data: I’m in the majority, not the minority. Not even women can feel left out if they’re still unwed by 30, as 2 in 5 bridesmaids have never been a bride at your best friends wedding that you hate so much.
Don’t worry, you’re doing the right thing and you’re still on the track to tying the knot, if that’s even a good thing!
By the time you’re 45, there’s a solid chance you’ve been married at least once (and probably divorced at least once, but if you waited until you were 30 there’s a much lower chance you’ve been divorced more than once. That’s just science.) because only 19.5% of men and 13.2% of women as of 2003 were never married by this age.
And even if you don’t believe in the sanctity of marriage and think the whole thing is a sham, there’s plenty of precedent for doing the exact same thing that Dick & Jane are doing but never going to a church or Las Vegas to make it official.
The increase in unmarried couple households since 1970 was seven-fold.
Credit back to userniche.com on finding and compiling this stat from the US Census Bureau in a 2001 study that showed non-married couples went from 523,000 in 1970 to 4,000,000 in 1996. Some of this can be attributed to the fact that there are just more people, but not all of it.
Part of the changing landscape of what society deems “acceptable” had a major influence on the number of non-married couples living together and having families as of today. Even Hollywood hunk George Clooney has said that he’ll never get married again. (Search Engine Optimization. Search Engine Optimization. Search Engine Optimization.)
There’s nothing inherently wrong with loving somebody and raising a family without getting the law involved. However, that doesn’t mean that the government doesn’t want to be involved or that it’s not beneficial to technically be married.
Kicking it back to the article on PBS:
RAY SUAREZ: Well, you have talked about these big life moments, but have they responded to the fact that marriage has changed in this way over the last 50 years? Our tax laws, the way we build houses, the way we award property in courts, all kinds of things are still built around marriage.
Indeed, there are tax benefits and housing benefits to those of us that don’t “Kurt Russell-Goldie Hawn” our lifestyle.
To be married is to benefit. But the bonus is that we don’t have to rush into these benefits. We are not going to die at age 45 anymore, we can raise a family sometime in our 30s and even into the 40s. For men, even later because it’s not a health hazard to ejaculate your baby ghosts like it is to push out an actual baby.
Just the idea of getting into a financial mess and responsibility like a house or a baby boggle my mind at age 29, but with each passing year it gets a little less “boggly” (would be the scientific term.)
Those same benefits (to some degree) will still be around if you wait another 5 or 10 years.
What about other explanations towards the decrease in marriage and the idea that it’s better to wait these days?
The mental aspect of what it means to fall in love, get married and divorced, and “growing up” can be a burden many of us will wait on.
Yourtango.com tackles a few of the mental aspects of waiting on marriage in this 2010 article. I believe they all hold at least a little bit of wait (that’s a play on words, y’all):
- A “soul mate” fetish
- Most of us have parents that divorced and don’t want to make the same mistake.
- We don’t want to become “adults”
- The “career” labyrinth
- Birth control aka we can have sex without babies like all of the time now
The first one I’ve said time and time again: People have an obsession with finding something perfect, when perfect doesn’t exist. You have to learn to live with peoples faults just as much as you get to enjoy living with their positives. There is no “perfect.” The best marriage you’ll ever see is probably only the parts that they’re willing to show. I’d wager that if you grew up in a married household, you got to see first-hand what would never be shown outside of the household.
That marriage and family are difficult, but even the most successful ones are successful simply because they worked on it. Relationships don’t come without a little bit of work and frankly, if you are constantly looking for the perfect soulmate you’ll be looking for a looong time up until the moment you decide “Oh duh, you were my soul mate. I just decided that I am completely changing my criteria because I’ve been waiting for 39 years and sure you can borrow my car and my debit card, here’s my pin number.”
I can totally dig the idea that we fear divorce more than ever simply because it’s been driven so hard into our brains over the last twenty years: 50% end in divorce… 50% end in divorce… 50% end in divorce… 50% end in divorce…
Divorce is the new Bogeyman and so many of us are strictly determined to not get married unless we feel very confident that it’s the right decision. That kind of confidence doesn’t come lightly.
The last one about sex just makes me kind of giggle. Not just because “sex” but thinking back to our grandparents age when it was strictly forbidden to have sex before marriage so of course you would get married when you started getting tingly feelings in gym class five or six years ago and now you’re finally old enough to get married and married = sex with a girl.
Of course it wasn’t always like that for everyone and of course there’s still people that wait until marriage today, but the entire cultural landscape has flip-flopped. You don’t have to wait until marriage to have sex, you only have to get her to agree. (Which for me is at least twice as hard as finding a girl to marry.)
The part where I say “In Conclusion”
We started this article off with the story of Lorraine. She got married probably at around the same age that another Lorraine, the one that married George McFly, got married, but they didn’t get married at the same time. That’s the critical part. Not the age, the time.
Lorraine McFly got married in a much different time than Lorraine H. Maybe in 1985 Lorraine McFly had some regrets, but that was still thirty years of solid marriage because those were different times. These days, there is no need to rush into marriage as a teenager or even as a young adult in your 20s. Time is now… on your side.
People were perhaps a bit more mature, had to grow up faster, back in the 50s, 60s, or even 70s. I think this other Yahoo! Question, this time coming from Lorraine H herself, explains why not all people that are 18 anymore are ready to get married. Are you f%@#ing ready for this….
I feel i am not good enough for my husband?
July 13, 2012 § 1 Comment
It has been awhile since I have done one of these. Frankly, I don’t really #FF much and maybe that’s why I never get the Follow Friday love in return because there is nothing to return. However, I will always throw out a #FF every now and then when I think a Twitter account simply needs to be seen by more people.
Enter @UNTRESOR. Seriously, I think he wants you to enter him. If it’s even a him at all, I can’t be 100% sure on that.
In my older versions of this series I had highlighted some well-known people that were surprisingly hilarious such as Brandon McCarthy and Ken Jennings. These were a couple of folks that you would never assume were funny (a baseball player and a Jeopardy contestant. There is a famous Jeopardy contestant!!!) but they managed to string words together to make these things called “Jokes” and then in return of reading these jokes you end up laughing, or “Ha Ha-ing”. It’s quite a fun activity.
Brandon Guttermouth is also good at this except I have no damn idea who he/she/it is. I honestly don’t know if a bunch of people do and I’m just not in the loop, but a http://www.Google.com internet search for “Who is Brandon Guttermouth” only returned results of his http://www.Twitter.com haikus.
His picture doesn’t give it away either:
Anyways, who doesn’t like a little mystery? We’ve all used public bathrooms, am I correct? The heart of the matter is the funny tweets. I have given a #FF to @UNTRESOR a couple of times before but maybe that’s not enough to convince you. Instead, here are some of “its” best tweets in existence. Enjoy!