saving the world one cubicle at a time

I’ve often wondered what super powers I would have if I suddenly became a super hero one day.

Becoming a super hero always seems to happen by accident or some Strange Incident, so I imagine I’d be ordering a bagel and instead of giving me scallion cream cheese the dude would give me Radioactive Cream Cheese and Zap! I’d have super powers.

My first choice is always to be able to fly, because then I could irritate all my friends by flying above them and throwing fruit at their heads.  Small fruit, of course.

I’m not a total asshole.

Then I think that maybe I’d want Super Strength, so I could play in the NFL and be The Best or maybe just be able to shove people really hard when they walk too slow.

The more I think about it though, the more I realize that along with some cool super powers, I’d be destined to get some kind of lame super power, like the ability to fix staplers when the staples get all stuck in there.

Not that I wouldn’t be in demand, because I would.

Nothing is more annoying than having a stapler jam on you.  You sit there, swear under your breath, then open the thing up.  Then you have to start digging at the little crunched staple that somehow messed up the whole damn operation and you always end up pricking your finger.

With me around though, the world would be free of this annoyance.

The instant someone’s stapler jammed, I’d get this feeling that Something Is Not Right, and I’d fly off to save the day.

It’d be a kind of crappy life for a super hero, always having to read about how Superman saved some kids (who were probably brats anyway) from a fire while I was off helping Steve in HR resuscitate his Swingline Heavy Duty.

But I’d do my duty because that would be The Good Thing To Do.

With great power comes great responsibility, right?

Right.

another time, another place

Last night I went out to meet up with some bloggers (Lacey, Arielle and The Brooklyn Boy) for trivia night at a bar in the East Village.

It was fun, but we finished third.

Which means we lost.

That will not happen again because I plan on doing A Lot Of Research beforehand to make sure I’m prepared. Or maybe I’ll just cheat.

Before I met up with them I met J.P. for a drink or five.

After some time discussing the finer points of quantum physics and how the Bullets never should have changed their name to the Wizards even though Bullets is not that great of a name for a city with a high murder rate, I had to take a piss.

I walked into the bathroom and was assaulted by Someone’s Mistake.

Some dude or girl had shit in the only bathroom. And it was a bad shit too. One of those that you can tell the person was not the same after it happened.

I don’t understand people who do this.

If you’re at a bar, and you feel A Little Uneasy Down There, it is time to go home.

No more shots for you friend – that is your stomach telling you it is not happy with your decisions.

The bar will be there tomorrow, I promise.

Lets be nice to others and go to our respective apartments when we feel like we might make A Bad Thing Happen In Public.

It will make the world a better place.

current event

Look at you.

Look at that beautiful smile.

And the hair! My god the hair! Do you know what I’d do for hair like yours???

I’d eat a monkey.

Yes, Ernie, an entire monkey. Not cooked or anything – I’d just pop that sucker right in my mouth.

You are The Great Ernie Anastos – news anchor for New York’s beacon of news reporting Fox 5 – and everything goes your way. You rule this city with teeth that can be seen from the Jersey Shore.

But while you are this amazing example of What A Man Should Be – I must admit – I’m worried about you.

I think you need to take a break.

How will the people get their extreme right wing news in this city without you?

That is for them to worry about my good friend.

I know, I know, you enjoy coming up with new things for people to be unnecessarily scared about, but let someone else take over for a little bit. Yes, I remember Bird Flu! That was a classic Ernie, no one will forget that.

But what you need is a break from all this quality news reporting.

Come hang out with me, we’ll have a couple beers, and we won’t talk about how great the war in Iraq is going.

No, Ernie, not even for a couple minutes.

It’s time. Let’s kick back and let the people see Casual Ernie.

That’s it.

You beautiful son-of-a-bitch you.

i dream of dancing

If I could have one wish from a genie it would be to be able to do The Robot, really, really well.

I’m talking The Best In The World.

I’d do it all the time.

In the bodega, someone would ask where they can find the trash bags, and look out! I’d be popping and locking in that direction, helping that person out.

Oh, and parties? Forget about it.

I’d be invited to so many parties that I’d have to cancel on people, maybe even Eva Mendes‘ bash. But I’d probably find time for that one.

I’d pick being able to rock The Robot because I wouldn’t want to Punk Out on my genie and go with the “I wish for a million more wishes” wish.

Because you know, my genie would be doing me a favor, and I wouldn’t want to be an ass.

Whoever the genie was that granted that wish the very first time, basically screwed all the other genie’s for the rest of eternity.

Can you imagine?

A couple genie’s were probably out at happy hour, swapping horror stories about The Biz, when another genie came in and shared the bad news: “Did you hear??? Frank granted someone a million more wishes! Well, we’re fucked now!”

Needless to say, Frank was not a popular dude.

But I wouldn’t pull that shit on my genie.

I’d take the The Robot, impress – oh I don’t know – everyone in the world – and be happy with that.

Plus, I hear that Eva loves a good dancer.

saving the youth

You know who pisses me off? Those kids on the trains who sell candy bars. If you live here you know what I’m talking about.

The door clangs open, and even above the music in your headphones you hear, “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, my name is [some stupid teen name] and I’m here selling candy bars. Not for no school or basketball team, but for me, to keep myself off the streets and to make some money.”

And then, much to the fat people on the trains dismay, “Unfortunately, all I have today is M&M’s and Starburst.” Like we all just figured he’d be fully stocked with everything from Snickers to Almond Joys.

Fuck these kids.

Go get a fucking job. Go take your ass to Wendy’s and fill out an application. And try the Frosty while you’re there – they’re fucking amazing.

Don’t tell me about keeping yourself off the streets. You obviously aren’t hard up for cash, seeing how you’re rocking some new kicks and a nice, leather jacket.

Oh, and thanks for “keeping it real” with me by telling me that it’s not for a school or a basketball team.

Because you were so honest with me, I’ll give you my dollar, add some fat to my stomach and keep you fuckers in business.

I mean, can I do this?

On my way home from work today I’m gonna step on the train, pull out a bag of bic pens and announce, “Excuse me ladies and gentlemen, my name is Chris, and I’m here selling bic pens. Not for no corporation or Office Max, but for me, to keep myself out of my office and to make some money. Unfortunately all I have today is blue ink.”

No. I can’t fucking do that.

So do me a favor candy bar selling teens, next time you feel the urge to make some cash, try applying for a job instead of setting a terrible example for kids even younger than you.

You can thank me later.

spider-man

Memo to the 30-something man sitting across from me on the f:

Unless you are 8 to 13 years old, you cannot wear a Spider-Man hat anymore.

It is not okay.

I don’t care if you got it for free, take it off right now and come to the realization that you are not the intended consumer for this product.

I know, I know, I like Spider-Man too. But c’mon, are we not men? Have we no dignity? How are we, as men, supposed to evolve when you do things like this? I know you see that hot woman sitting across from us.

She’s not looking at you.

What do you want? Do you want my hat? I’ll give it to you! If it means you won’t wear a super hero on your head anymore – I’ll gladly give you my adult hat.

Let’s do it. Let’s move on and let go.

We are men my friend, men with normal hats.