inside voices

I try to be nice.

I know, that might seem like Crazy Drunk Talk coming from me, and maybe it is because part of me still feels hungover from last night and wants to maybe vomit on my desk, but it’s the truth.

I really do try – with the emphasis on “try.”

But what I don’t understand, and what makes me not be so nice sometimes, is when people who speak a foreign language feel that they can talk at obscenely loud levels.

Why do they think this okay???

And this is not about being tolerant of other people.

This is about me having to cover my fucking ears to keep them from bleeding when I’m standing next to an Asian couple.

This is about me wanting to strangle a group of Hispanic girls on the train because I feel like if I go to jail afterwards at least I’ll be in a quiet cell.  Well, at least until my cell mate tries to make me His Woman.

I don’t care if people are not White/American/Whatever The Fuck!  I mean, good for them, I’m a white American male, it doesn’t get any more lame and uninteresting than that.

I just want them to keep their fucking voices down!

Just because no one around understands what they’re saying doesn’t mean they can scream when they’re standing two feet away from each other.

And this goes for American high school girls too, because I have no clue what they’re saying even though they’re apparently speaking in English.  All I hear is “like” every fucking third word and it makes me want to throw myself down a flight of stairs.

I can’t fucking take it.

But this is why I have this blog.

So I can tell all of you about how much I hate stuff and how I try and be nice but usually end up being The Asshole Who Said The Wrong Thing.

And hopefully no one is offended by this post, but if you are and you want to talk about it, I only ask that you keep your fucking voice down because I’m right here and I really don’t care what you think anyway.

game time

There’s nothing more that I like than a little competition.  This is because – like Ari tells me in Moments Of Great Frustration – I am An Overly Competitive Person.

When I’m on the treadmill at the gym and there’s a guy next to me running at 7.5, you better believe I’m running at 8.0.

I’m also really insane when it comes to playing sports and board games – I’ll play so intensely that it makes people wonder if I’m mentally stable.

I am focused until the last shot has been taken, the final chip has been dropped in Connect Four (I dare you to challenge me in Connect Four – it will only result in you crying Tears Of A Loser) and the last card has been dealt.

But there is one game that I will not play.

I will not play Monopoly.

That is because it is the worst fucking game ever invented.

No one ever finishes the damn game, first of all.  And if there is no Winner (me) and Loser (you) – what is the point of playing???

It is also so boring it makes me want to rethink my life and maybe become a priest, but then I realize that if I become a priest I probably have to touch little boys and since I don’t like doing that I decide that my life is fine as is.

And don’t get me started on all the property shit.

No one fucking cares that you got all the railroads, okay?

And congratulations – you got fucking Boardwalk.  Hope you’re happy because this is the best your life is going to get.

Whenever someone I know suggests playing Monopoly, I usually say something like, “Or maybe we could kill ourselves!”

Which usually gets my point across.

Monopoly is truly the worst game ever, and even when I do play the stupid game, someone always takes the Racecar piece before me.

And that really pisses me off.

sometimes i get angry

Okay, I’ve had enough.

This has been building inside me for quite some time, and I can’t take it anymore.

I fucking hate those LOL cats things. I can’t fucking stand them.

It was funny the first three or four times I saw one, I’ll admit it, but not anymore.

It’s a picture of an animal, in a funny situation, with text that reads like it was written by a nine year-old.

I get it – animals can be funny. Can’t we just leave it at that? Why is the world obsessed with something so goddamn dumb?

Yeah, I see you’re fucking cat is sitting in a box. My gosh – that’s just soooo crazy! Silly cat! He’s not supposed to be in a box!

And what’s this? A squirrel is peering through a hole in a fence??? Now that is just absurd! You should take a picture of it and write something really fucking stupid on it!

Yay!

Seriously, is this what the world has come to? These things are so popular that it really worries me. Forget why we invaded Iraq, we need to figure out what happened to our societies sense of humor – because it is dying.

“I can has cheezburger.”

Get the fuck out of here with that stupid fucking shit.

Please, I’m begging you, stop the madness. Get a hold of yourself the next time you feel tempted to post one of these pictures.

Think of your friends, think of your families – they don’t think that it’s funny – they’re just being nice to you.

But I don’t have to be nice to you, so I’m telling you the truth – LOL Cats is not fucking funny and it needs to stop.

You want to talk about Weapons of Mass Destruction? Well, I think I found them.

(hat tip to Isabelle, thanks for inciting my rage)

extinguish the torch

I’ve been hearing a lot about the protests in China over the Olympics, and it made me start thinking.

Not about those protests or the human rights violations that China just adores, because I tend not to think about Things That Matter.

No, I started thinking about how much I hate the Olympics.

Seriously.  The Olympics are fucking weak.

They have all these amateur athletes competing in all these weird ass “sports.”

You know what amateur athletes are?  Athletes who aren’t good enough to be professionals – that’s what.  Oh, please let me watch a bunch of athletes who may or may not be as athletic as the bodega owner compete in sports no one could give a shit about.

Let’s review a couple of these “sports.”

Canoeing is one.  Fucking canoeing.  It’s two dudes in a boat.  And they’re not even drinking!  Who gets in a boat without any alcohol???  No one fun that’s for sure.

Then there’s Racewalking.  You read that right.  It’s walking – but really fast!  Wow!  They really wanted to draw the crowds with this one huh?  So what did they do, raid all the malls in America for competitors?  “Did you see the way that elderly woman whizzed by JC Penney’s???  Get her to China!”

And what’s the deal with Gold, Silver and Bronze winners?  Hey Olympics fuckers – here’s a newsflash for you:  If you didn’t actually win – that means you lost!  No one cares if you get second place!  You lost!  You want to see something pathetic – try watching someone show off a Silver medal to someone.  It’s fucking embarrassing.  “Oh, you almost won at the Olympics?  That’s really good.  That’s just very, nice.”

The Olympics are terrible and they just need to stop.

Maybe back in the day they were cool, when you could feed the losing athletes to lions or Something Interesting like that, but not anymore.

Now they are just worthless, and it pisses me off.

I’m going to Racewalk off this anger.

action!

When people tell me that they “like movies,” I tend to get a little angry.

For some reason, people who say this think that it makes them Unique From Other People, but it really doesn’t.

Guess what?  Everyone likes movies!

You don’t Like Movies, okay?  You know who Likes Movies?

Steven Spielberg.

Steven Spielberg Likes Movies.

Not you.

Oh, you just saw another Independent Film?  That’s good!  So you’re telling me that you just watched two hours of bullshit that you don’t understand?  That sounds really fun!

And you’ve seen 1,453 movies?  That doesn’t mean a fucking thing to me.

You and I both know that 1,302 of them sucked.

And I’m not even counting Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, because while a lot of people would say that sucked too, I’m not one of them.  I am counting Secret of the Ooze though.

Liking Movies is not something special.  It is not like telling people that you sky dive.  Someone who sky dives is unique.  Fucking dumb – but unique.

Next time you want to brag about Liking Movies to me, please just spare me.

Because while I’m sure some people want to hear how you “Were rather disappointed in No Country for Old Men,” I’m already thinking about what you’d look like after I punch you in the face.

Now that’s unique.

insanity before a towel

The locker room at the gym is an odd place – where seemingly rational people regress into conducting seriously disturbing behaviors.

Unfortunately for me, because I don’t ever want to be fat, I have to witness these behaviors five days a week.

This morning there was guy standing beside me having a conversation about painting his house, while completely naked.

When was the last time you had a conversation with anyone while completely naked? Right after sex, I hope. Otherwise, put some fucking clothes on.

Oh, and while we’re talking about naked dudes (who doesn’t like talking about naked dudes!) how about the guy who weighs himself in the nude? What – putting on a pair of boxers is gonna tip the scale for ya??? Look fucker, no one wants to see the fact that you’re still fat as ever despite coming to the gym everyday. Try not eating a box of Twinkies for lunch.

That might help.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Smelly Clothes Man. This guy wears the exact goddamn thing everyday to the gym, and if he’s within five lockers of you, your stomach will not be the same for at least an hour after.

Why Smelly Clothes Man chooses not to wash his clothes – I have no idea. Why he just has to wear the same thing everyday, like it’s some kind of Stink Uniform – I have no idea. I do know that when his locker is near mine, I feel like dying.

Or maybe stabbing him in the neck.

The worst part about the locker room is that there is nothing you can do about it. You have to deal with it.

You must look at these people and somehow make yourself think of them as Normal People who act logically in The Real World, no matter how hard they seem to make it.

literature

There’s a lot of pressure on you when you read something on the train.  Same goes for people who read in public anywhere – people are watching you and judging you.

Some people read the Times.  These are the Smart People.  These are also the people who think paying $1.25 for a paper is Something That Is Worth It.  They like to eat at places with only one word for the name, like “Tao” and “Water.”

Some people read the Journal.  These are the Business People.  These are also the people who you’ll see typing away on their Berry at 6:57 in the morning, trying to look like they are sending Important Emails, when in fact, they are playing solitaire.  And losing.

Some people read Intelligent Books About Confusing Things.  These are the Subject Snobs.  These are also the people who like to kill conversations at parties about how no one ever died in the G.I. Joe cartoon, with comments like, “Sometimes I wonder what Marx would’ve thought about our current economic state.”  They are fuckers.

Some people read magazines about People Who Are Rich And Famous But Still Suck Anyway.  These are the Brain Dead.  These are also the people who have officially given up, thinking, “Well, learning about things is just too hard, so I’ll just stick to what Jessica Simpson wore to the gas station today – crazy!”

Some people don’t read anything and judge all the people who are reading things – then blog about it the next day.

These are the Cool People.

why my girlfriend thinks i’m immature

Last night Ari (my girlfriend) and I went out to a bar in the Lower East Side.  It wasn’t the kind of place that either of us like, but she was meeting some friends there and I was gonna have some drinks there until I met my friends at another bar.

When we arrived the bouncer at the door informed me that I had to pay a $15 cover.  Of course, the girls I was with did not have to pay anything.

But I get that.

Men are pretty much universally uglier to look at than women -  so there you have it – I was $15 dollars down before stepping into a bar that I didn’t even want to go to.

This did not bode well for the bar.

Once inside, my god, I had never seen so many guys wearing striped button-down shirts and women wearing Forever 21 outfits in my life.  It was disturbing.

This made me even more angry.

Then, when Ari and her friend checked their coats, I said that I was keeping mine because I was leaving soon anyway.

The bouncer at the coat check – yes, a bouncer at the fucking coat check – informed me that it was a mandatory coat check.  Mandatory?  What, if I keep my coat on somehow I’ll upset the sea of 21 year-old dudes wearing American Eagle?

Despite my intense anger, I gave my coat to the coat check woman.

Another $2 dollars.

I looked at the bouncer.

I was not a happy person.

Finally – after some drinks and shots were consumed -  and we made fun of some girls who had apparently forgotten that it was not okay to do little kicks while punching the air when dancing, I got the call from my friend and I left.

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

As I walked out, I noticed that the line to get in was about thirty people deep now.

Perfect.

I looked for a cab, turned to the line, and by the power vested in me by Petron, I yelled, “Don’t go!  This place sucks!  I’m telling you turn around!  It fucking sucks!  Save your striped button-downs for another night!!!”

The people and the bouncers were not amused.

I climbed into a cab and we had to drive back by the bar.  Once again, I wound down my window, hung my head out of the cab and screamed that the bar was horrible – laughing like an idiot the entire time.

As I went to meet my friend, the radio in the cab was playing “Under the Milky Way,” which is an Awesome Song, so my mood got better.

I smiled to myself and thought, “You know, I really am a pretty fun guy.”

the battle

Alright hipsters, you win!

Okay?  You win.  I can’t fight you any longer.  I’ve been trying and trying to be as cool as you are, but it has become apparent that I can’t fucking do it – so I quit.

I want to be one of you.  I want to be so cool that I don’t even want to be cool.

So tell me – how do we start?

You know, I’m just a normal guy who wears normal (albeit fucking on point) clothes and likes normal things like sports and all the Conan movies.  So you’re gonna have to help me out.

What’s first?  Should I move to Williamsburg?  Done.  And yes, next I’ll remove all the hip-hop from my iPhone and replace it with bands that cleverly put “The” on the front of their names, like it makes them sound original or something.  Of course!  I realize that no one can like these bands, because the second someone does, they are lame.

Oh, yes, I’m already wearing my first pair of skinny jeans, though, I’ve gotta tell you, my nuts are killing me.  Oh!  Yeah, you can see them, can’t you?  Well, that’s what happens when men wear women’s jeans.  Not a pleasant sight!

No, sorry, I’m still in.

Okay.  Tattoo’s are next.  Yes, I’ll get really obscure looking ones so when people ask me, “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”  I can give them a look of utter disdain, knowing that they are beneath me for not realizing that I have a bar-code on my neck because I’m just a part of the fucked up system.

A mullet and a mustache huh?  Fucking right!  I understand.  I’ll wear this ugly facial hair and haircut proudly because other people just don’t realize how cool it really is.  I won’t get laid anymore because of this, but that’s cool too.  Everything I’ll do will be soooo cool.

Oh right, no more reading books about normal stuff and sports.  From now on, all you’ll ever see me reading on the train is books about politics, philosophy and weird dead dudes.  Oh man, the excitement of those books is gonna be non-stop!

That’s it?  I’m done?  So now I’m cooler than everyone right?  I can be a dick to anyone who doesn’t like indie rock and beer that tastes like I’m eating a loaf of bread?

What’s that?  No more blogging?

Fuck off bro.

You people suck anyway.

the closer you get, the uglier you are

You know what I hate? Well, I hate lots of things, but this is pertaining to the train. Okay, I hate lots of things about/around/in the train, but just hear me out.

It’s those people who get all up in your grill when their stop is about to come up.

You know what I’m talking about. I’m standing in the doorway on the way to work this morning, and as the next stop comes up, a guy just has to get right up to the door so he can get out right away.

Look Mr. My Life Is So Important That I Have To Stand Two Inches Away From A Strangers Face, there is no fucking rush. You’re gonna make it! When the train comes to a stop, believe it or not, you’ll be able to get out of the train in time. It’s crazy, I know! There is no need to be two inches from my face awaiting the arrival of your stop.

You know what I do to these people? I stare at them. Hard. Nothing menacing or anything, just a blank, intense stare. It really rattles them and in turn, gives me some sense of punking them without actually having to speak.

You can use that idea. It’s cool with me.