Where Has My Summer Gone? Pt. One

--I am not going to go to the same party for 12 years.

“Another day of monotony

Has gotten me to the point I'm like a snail

I've got to formulate a plot or end up in jail or shot”

-Eminem “Lose Yourself”

Preach it Marshall. I won’t go as far to say that I will be imprisoned or gunned down, but something needs to happen. I looked at my phone this morning and saw that it was July 21st. Really?! As depressing as it sounds, I don’t think I checked the date in about a month and a half and legitimately thought it was like June 15th. There really is no need to check when every day is the same.

Because I am so intriguing and mysterious, a bunch of people ask me what I actually do during a standard day. I am going to run it down for you so you all can see how I am like a snail that is going to end up in jail or shot.

7:00AM—Alarm rings. Frantically hit snooze.

7:10AM—Wake up, contemplate suicide.

7:11AM—Turn on the Today Show and see how much fun Matt and Meredith are having--Debate career in newscasting.

7:16AM—Watch depressing news stories, go into bathroom to pee/shit, brush teeth, insert contacts, kill 1-3 bugs, and shower.

7:21-7:30AM (depends on how awesome the shower is)—Get fly as shit.

7:40AM—make my way to the T, fending off the intense pressure to get a McGriddle.

7:45AM—Give sexually explicit looks to this cute girl that rides the T at the same time as me. No looks are returned.

7:45-8:25AM—Ride a terrible T ride to South Station, walk to work.

8:30-10:30AM—Sleep with my eyes open, open up two software programs to look like I am doing something, and read every article on every relevant website.

10:30AM—Get a Monster and/or a Red Bull and proceed to get jacked the fuck up.

10:30AM-1:30PM—Use my amped-ness to actually produce before lunch.

1:30PM—Eat some terrible food

2:30PM-2:?PM—Shit/Nap in the bathroom

2:?PM-4:59PM—Regret what I ate for lunch and slowly die until the end of the day. Oh yea, and some meetings, updates, yada, yada.

4:59PM—Put on my old track shoes and sprint as far away from this place as possible.

End of Part One.

“Bitch, You Ain’t No Nerd”

My week has been eaten up like chum in shark infested waters. It was an insta-wrap when NCAA Football 2010 came out on July 14 (PSN ID: dubj1023, come get some) and my new flat screen TV came in the mail. I never had a chance nor did I ever have a choice. I mean, why would I write to you people when I could be using digitally enhanced amateur athletes to defeat an 8 year old from Helena, Montana in an online game. It’s a serious no-brainer. So what if I have neglected my double cheeseburgers, social interaction, and natural light--I have my new TV and video game.

Call me a nerd, I understand. It also might be sad knowing that the coolest kid you know is obsessed with video games. I am also cranking my nerd game to the fullest. Recognize that I am currently wearing glasses and looking awesome. All my girl co-workers got their panties in a bunch as they wonder how many math problems I can do or how many pencils I have in my drawer. It’s a great fantasy world I live in. Any who, I have given up on work today, so I am going to try to get a shit load of posts done. NCAA is starting to piss me off anyway. That 8 year old from Montana used Florida and kept hucking the god damn ball down field. Ugh.

The Great Hangover Tour

“OMG, it’s the “Day ‘N Night” guy and the “I Love College Guy.” That statement basically sums up The Great Hangover Tour which recently made its stop at the House of Blues right next to Fenway Park. What I have previously known as a guido hotspot, was actually the venue for a much anticipated rap concert…say whattt. Needless to say, I had a very fun time.

With the concert doors “opening” at 7 and me getting off of work at 5, that left little time for me to pound maximum beers. Instantly, my buddy and I go to the cheap bar up the street and try to force down as many $1.50 drafts as humanly possible. It worked out to a marginal extent, so we decided just to cab down there just in case. Let me tell ya, this line was packed. Not your standard packed line, but an anomaly of a line. The most white people per square mile one could ever imagine at a rap concert. Oh and the average age was about 15, let’s go! Saying “fuck that” to that line, we decide to go to the expensive Game-On bar and buy $8 tall boy vodka tonics (::someone in the distance screams FAGS::). Feeling strangely tired and not that drunk, we decide to test our fate with the line.

Upon getting in, we separate ourselves from the youth of a nation, by making our way to the 21+ upstairs area. We struggle to get a drink and then struggle to get a good spot on stage. Times are certainly not easy, but I always say you got to pay the cost to be the boss. Wait that was Snoop? God dammit. Avoiding digression, I continue. I have been pounding out some Cudi in recent days before said concert, so I felt prepared for his antics. I wasn’t. Dude emerged on stage, by himself, with a big ass projection screen behind him displaying weird ass images. Then he rocked the house. Came out in a top hat, tight shirt and jeans, and some Converses, spoke his mind, and got out of there. Shit was great. Rap’s changing right before my eyes. It is also avidly clear that there is no way this dude would have made it in the 90s.

After Cudi finished, I made it a goal of mine to get a beer before Asher came out for the famed “chug” part of “I Love College.” 28 minutes of bullying scary thin disease ridden girls and juking large guido-ish men, I received my beer. Asher came out in his god damn element--Predominantly college crowd, strange amount of white people, and beers everywhere. With his self-professed sidekick Bangley and his fake Quest Love drummer, he got shit started with his first prop of the night, a green go-kart. There was also a comically large fake blunt and his boy Bangley running around in a lion suit. Awesome time. Even had these two random floosies come up and dance with me and my boy. No numbers were achieved, but who gives a shit. I could say I was at Asher and Kid Cudi’s first real concert apart of their first real tour. These guys will be around for awhile and I can say I was there for the start of it all.

Download "A Kid Named Cudi" and "Asleep In the Bread Aisle."

"Hey Mr. Jeezy, Tell Me Where Ya Been"

For about the 6th straight time since starting this blog, I have neglected it and forgot to post. Standard mistake since, you know, I am a working man. But as you all may know, I do not actually work and I am feverishly figuring out excuses to make for why I have not posted (doubting that anyone cares). The next two posts will explain my recent hiatus.

They are all legitimate reasons for a media monster such as myself, so back your shit up and be happy that I am back.

Frankenbug, Sammy, and A Parakeet.....

^sneaky hilarious animal.

When I was a little kid, I used to work at the Bronx Zoo. It was an awful job. I parked baby strollers (?) for the new ape exhibit. Needless to say, I hated everything about it. The one thing I can always fall back on was the fact that I could just walk around and see the animals when things got stressful. This inevitably led to a whole thing where I fell in love with animals and wanted to be a zoologist. Gay.

Oh, how times have changed. Fast forward 9 years and meet me in Allston, MA, the strangest area in the continental United States. Only living here for about 2 months, I have encountered shit that I am positive I will never see again.

The first shower I took in my house was a legitimate problem. Upon looking down, I saw this potential insect running around ruining the ambience I created pre-shower. The reason I call this a potential insect is because it looked like the Frankenstein of all things buggy and gross. It was hairy, wing-ed, colorful, while clearly having a stinger, fangs, and 1437 (yes an odd number) of legs. I am naked, confused, and scared. An overall position no man ever wants to find himself in. I scanned the bathroom for the best weapon I could find, which turned out to be a toilet paper roll. Sweet. I decided to concede this battle and hoped that this treacherous beast would spare my toes. Watching its path, I saw that it took a trip to the corner of the bathroom, which was appropriate for it since that area was gross as shit. And low and behold, a CLEAR spider comes out of a small hole and pulls Frankenbug in. At this point I am not in the bathroom, but in my bed under the covers piecing together what transpired. That is just the tip of the iceberg in Allston.

After a rare productive day in which me and some of the roommates finished playing basketball and working out, we came back to the house only to see the unthinkable happening. Let me preface what we saw by saying there is missing cat in the neighborhood named “Sammy”, a black cat with white spots. Cute bastard. His cute value instantly plummeted when we saw him and a presumably female cat aggressively fornicating. Here we are assuming Sammy would help us with the neighborhood rat problem and instead, he’s over here getting his (X-rated) Pepe Le Pew on. God dammit Sammy.

Perhaps the strangest of all events happened two days ago. Walking back from my crutch (aka McDonald’s) my buddy and I see a small thing in the middle of the street ahead. He makes the outlandish claim of, “is that a parakeet in the middle of the street?” I instantly view that as a stupid, dumb, asinine question. As we got closer, I realized he was right. There was a parakeet CHILLIN’ (and I can’t stress how much it was hanging out) in the street. As confused as we were, we tried to save it. Funny fact about those things—they can only move sideways. I’m sure you can imagine how hilarious it is to chase something that can only move sideways, but I digress. It gave a half-hearted attempt at flying away and went back to its original spot. Clearly owning the street and intimidating us, my friend and I went home, confused and eerily scared.

At 5:45 today I will probably see something that will top it all. But until then, I am anxiously awaiting to get back to home sweet home.

Get Your Popcorn Ready

I challenge you to play this song while reading and tell me you are not ready to kill a zombie.

I wrote a post a couple of weeks ago that more or less made the outlandish claim that we are heading into the apocalypse. You know, the whole lightning strikes being up like 4000% and kids getting eaten by mud thing. Well, if you have been living under a rock these past couple of weeks, we have lost some significant celebrities. Following the loss of Ed McMahon, Michael, and Farrah, we were just hit with the deaths of Billy Mays and Steve “Air” McNair. This can’t be a coincidence. We are most assuredly going to have to prepare ourselves to fight zombies to protect our existence….yeah..

Zombies you ask? Yes, zombies. It’s going to be fucking sweet. I am not talking about those “I Am Legend” nutjob, N.O. Xplode filled zombies, I mean those “Night of the Living Dead” slow bastards. This fight has to be even if it is going to be awesome. Just picture if zombies just popped up wherever you were and you were only equipped with a knife, a pistol (with few bullets), and…a health pack. Disregard the direct connection to Resident Evil and think of how fun this would be. Picture donkey punching a zombie in the back of the head, while someone on top of a roof plays the theme from Requiem for a Dream ….it’s on.

On a gayer note, zombies would also bring about world peace because as you saw in the wonderfully constructed film “Independence Day” (featuring Will “the Thrill” Smith), shit like that brings the world together. I don’t know about any of you, but for those who watched Power Rangers back in the day, I would have given everything in my piggy bank for an opportunity to beat the shit out of a putty (sp?). They were soulless (so you didn’t feel bad taking their lives), soft creatures built for the sole purpose of getting fucked up. I imagine zombies are similar, only more human and smellier.

“Look out, man there’s a zombie right behind you” BAAAMMM!! It gets drilled by Ray Lewis. Ray’s in the car and the zombie’s on the ground figuring out what the fuck just happened.

It’s a pipe dream, yes. A guy can dream can’t he?

The Old-School Game Awards

Since I am such a creative soul, I thought we'd give credit where credit is due and honor some of the most influential things in our lives..toys. Now without further ado.

The "man of the year" award goes to a young man that went solely by the name “Mr. Bucket.” Where he lacked a first name he more than made up for with colorful plastic golf balls. I can’t even begin to imagine how many head to head collisions this game generated. There are no clear memories in my head of playing this game, but I feel that, like ecstasy, Mr. Bucket produced a similar brain damaging artificial form of euphoria. Our next award please…

Think about the terrifying mind-fucking torture of “Russian roulette.” Not a good thought huh? The age 4 and up version of that was known as “Don’t Wake Daddy”—the winner of “the scariest game that was by no means meant to be scary” award. Odd premise too. Wake up and get to the kitchen without waking Dad? Is this father a sick and deranged man that penalizes his children for eating or were these children generally bad people. Answers we will never know. I vividly remember the fear of landing on a 9-push spot. Tears would flow and my brief life flashed before my eyes. Seeing that poorly constructed dad figure rise up in a rage brought even the strongest of 4 year olds to tears. Let us move on.

The award for the game that every dude wanted, but had no fucking idea how to play or what was happening in the commercial goes to….”Crossfire.” Bring in an electric guitar, a rocking vocal performance, some lightning/fire, and kids in leather jackets, you have yourself advertising gold. Parents were markedly scared to get children this game because literally no one knew what was happening.

The award for “God dammit, this looks nothing like the box”, goes to “Mouse Trap.” I have no evaluation for this game because I was too fucking cool to set that shit up.

Our next award is “the game that wasn’t that fun in 1993, but became exponentially more fun during a 2008 frat party” goes to “Twister.” Whoever made this shit, Parker Brothers or Milton Bradley, need to receive some sort of recognition for creating some of the best (and worst) nights of my life.

And lastly, the award for the game that taught us how to judge people—“Guess Who.” This game taught me about nerds and fat people before I got to kindergarten. It allowed for a smooth transition into the social hierarchy of the school world. There were so many other nominations and awards, but for those of you that have read this far, this is one of the dumbest things I have ever thought of in my life.

Might as well cut my losses and get the hell out of here. Later

The First Significant Celebrity Death of My Lifetime

I hate to be another media outlet that is pumping this story, but I need to.

This man composed and performed my favorite song of all time—“Beat it.” He was also my first favorite musical artist. I would dance around in my fuckin’ diapers to that stuff. Sad day. Please understand what he did to (and for) music and recognize that pretty much every artist in every genre has received some form of inspiration from this man. There is plenty more to say, but I will leave it at that.

Michael Jackson (1958-2009), the King of Pop, the musical icon of our generation, please rest in peace. You were one of a kind.

It's A Wrap For Us

Oh..this guy? He's just the Mayan calendar. The symbol of "we are fucked."

So I am just sitting here, not working. I decide to check out CNN to see how fucked we have been, how fucked we are now, and how fucked we are going to be. Low and behold, we are more fucked than I could have ever imagined. A ridiculous amount of crazy shit has been going down today. Feel free to check it out yourself, but the horror is too great for me to post links to the individual stories.

Ok fine, I’ll post them:

First off, lightning is pissed off and no one understands why. Lightning has no reason to be freaking out killing people jogging or just hanging out outside—that asshole under the tree probably deserved it since that is like the one rule they teach you about lightning when you’re little. Those gumshoes over there on stormwatch revealed that rubber won’t save your ass. So be on the lookout for..um..lightning.

Those clouds are plotting. Oh guess what? Can’t go swimming and dig up mud(?) anymore because there is fucking flesh-eating bacteria living in that shit. I think it’s universally agreed that flesh-eating bacteria is the scariest thing in the game right now. But WHY was this kid swimming to dig for mud? I don’t give a shit about what the news people said, mud is mildly fun at best, when you are four. Glad he’ll be alright though, that crazy bastard.

This one is less morbid, but fucked up nonetheless. The iPhone is allowing apps to feature softcore porn. What?! A) Where was this when I was a kid? B) This is going to be a problem. Kids are literally going to be fighting to get into a stall to wack off to their iPhone porn. Bathroom passes will be of their highest demand in years and overall school production (and intelligence) will reach new lows. Our future will know their porn stars like the back of their hands, but won’t be able to add or subtract…

Moral of the story--we are fucked. Careful out there folks we are pissing someone or something off.

P.S.-Just read the headline of an article that read “Sitter possibly high when girl, 2, vanished.” Wow.

Not For The Faint Of Heart

It’s been awhile since I have last posted. I had to settle some scores, pay some bills, and quell a few feuds. That's neither here nor there, but you all had to know. Now it is time to give you all a small glimpse into my past. From day one I have been scared shitless of public restrooms. Maybe it started when I was a strapping young lad and my mother used to take me into the woman’s bathroom whenever I had to go. Maybe it was the fact that I was pretty much scared of any woman who was not my mom during the Cootie Pandemic of ’93, who’s to say really?

Years passed, rules were established, and etiquette was set. You need a one (ideally two) stall separator between you and the next urinating gentleman (I don’t know, nor do I ever want to know what goes down in the girl’s bathroom, but I am sure it’s fucking anarchy in there, nothing like the well established democracy of the “Men’s Room”). The one thing I have been a little cloudy on is shitting protocol. Stage fright is an understatement when there is a stranger or girl within 25 feet of me shitting. It is my special spot. A spot to bring my laptop, play Ipod games/listen to music, and read “The Worst Case Scenario Handbook.” 95% of the time, no shitting is taking place. Just a solid spot to recap your day and since I have started working, it also acts as a napping location.

Here is where the problem lies and my newest reason why I hate public restrooms…what does one do when there is another man, a stranger shitting right next to them? I clam up (gross expression..sorry) and basically wait until they are finished. If you check my career stats on workerbro.com, you can see that I have zero career party/bar shits. It is just not a logical move, especially for your social status. Too many bad things can happen and you only set yourself up for failure. Let a few farts slide in the middle of a dude set and get out of there..always works. Also, there is really no timetable on how long a man shits. Obviously, no one can pee that long, but shitting can easily turn into an event. I also feel like every time this happens, it is some gross old man that grunts and makes everything all the more uncomfortable. I can’t be my normal productive self when these things are happening, which is why I am not to fond of the expression, “shit or get off the pot”, I also don’t like how they are equating a pot and a toilet. Maybe I can learn to be more tolerant of fellow shitters, but until then I am not fond of people violently shitting their britches right next to me. Blumpkins are a completely different story….ok I’m done, you can go throw up now.