either or

I often grapple with many difficult questions, such as why are my feet always so hot? Who told K-Fed that he should pursue a music career? Why don’t more people give more respect to the movie Taps?

While those are all great questions, arguably the hardest question I’ve ever tried to answer is who I like better, Batman or Superman. I know right away what the most of you are going to say. It’s Batman, and the only reason you might not vote for Batman is because they put nipples on his suit in Batman & Robin.

But I don’t think it’s that clear cut.

I think Superman is vastly underrated in the super hero realm and because of his Good Guy image, he gets a bad rap.

Here’s how I try and solve this dilemma:  Who would I rather go to a bar with?

At first it would seem that again, Batman is the easy choice. But life is never that easy.   If it was, I’d have my first book published and Eva Mendes would be all “Oh, you’re hot, do me!” at my book signing and I’d be all “Nah, it ain’t like that.”

If I was at a bar with Batman, all night long I’d be trying to keep up with his coolness, which is basically impossible. He’d be talking to women and I’d just be sitting there, bored out of my mind. All my guy friends wouldn’t want to hear my stories anymore, because let’s be honest, while the time I told a guy he looked like Crocodile Dundee is funny, it can’t compare to the 437 times Batman saved someone’s life.

While I’d be playing second fiddle to Batman, if I went to a bar with Superman, it’d be completely different. Because he’s such a nice guy, he’d make sure I was part of the conversation at all times, and even maybe give me one or two of his stories to pass off as my own.

Even with this thought out, I still cannot decide which super hero I like better. But at least I am certain of one thing, no matter which one I was with, we’d all end up making fun of Aquaman by the end of the night, and really, isn’t that what matters most?

two questions for you because your sister drinks too much

There’s been a lot in the news about pirates lately, with the ship that was just hijacked along with several others before it. This raised awareness has brought two questions to my mind:

1. The crew that was just hijacked has regained control of the ship from the pirates, but (as of right now) they somehow forgot to rescue their captain.  The captain is the best crew member on the ship! How do you not rescue your captain??? When constructing the plan, the first thing they should have done was figure out how to rescue their captain.  It just doesn’t make any sense. They took back the ship, but neglected to rescue the best guy there.  That’s like going to pick up women at a bar, but leaving your best looking friend at home. Without him around to guide you in the right direction, no matter what you think will happen, you’re not going to accomplish your goal.
2. The more and more I hear about pirates, the more and more I think about this Important Question: Who would win in a fight – a pirate or a ninja?  To me, this is a more difficult question than how to solve the economy (hey Obama – there’s a reason the number one question asked during the web conference was if you were going to legalize pot – because it would work dumbass). The pirate, because he is so reckless by nature, would take chances that the ninja would not expect, thus giving him an upper-hand. The ninja, on the other hand, is the very opposite of the pirate: precise, patient, detail-oriented and stealth-like. The ninja’s patience, I believe, is the key to the battle.  While the pirate grows increasingly annoyed (and thus increasingly drunk) waiting for the battle to begin, the ninja bides his time devising the best way to attack the pirate. Then, when the pirate is in his most Keith Richards-like state, the ninja strikes. The battle would be epic, but in the end, my pick is the ninja.

Now that I’ve given you Two Very Important Things To Think About for the rest of the day, I have to tell you that I won’t be around tomorrow. Apparently Jesus loves me and he made tomorrow Good Friday in my honor, therefore I have the day off.  I will see you on Monday people.  Actually, I won’t see you.  Unless you’re that person who keeps digging through my trash.  If that’s the case, please take my old boxer briefs off of your head. It’s weird.

let’s say

Let’s say you’re friends with Ben Affleck.  Not as close as Matt Damon, but close enough that when he decided to marry Jennifer Lopez, you told him that it was probably not a good idea, and he at least gave your concerns some thought.  While at a bar one night that Ben frequents, he tells you that he has to go to the bathroom for “a number two,” and after you tell him to never say that phrase to you again, he exits the table and heads for the toilet.  You relax and begin to watch Fringe on the TV above the bar, not because you think it’ll be entertaining, but because you can’t help but wonder if Joshua Jackson’s career really did peak at Dawson’s Creek like you’ve thought for many years now.  Just as you start to hate yourself for trying to watch the show, there is a loud crash near the front door of the bar, and in walks Mike Myers.  He is obviously drunk, and he stumbles over to you and starts blabbering to you like you’ve known each other for years.  Mike is going on and on about how people “Just don’t know how to rock anymore” and all you can think about is how much you hate this man and everything he’s done aside from Wayne’s World, which was pure genius.  Toward the end of his Rock Speech, Mike mentions out of nowhere that he can’t stand Ben Affleck.  The very same Ben that has been in the bathroom for quite sometime now, which worries you because he’s rich.  Rich people shouldn’t get diarrhea.  You nod and offer a “Oh Ben’s an alright guy” defense to Mike, who kind of brushes it off and then tells you that he likes you, and wants you to come party on his yacht later that night.  He tells you that he throws the best parties on his boat, and he likes you so much that if you come, he’ll cast you opposite him in his next movie, no questions asked, but you have to come right away.  Mike gives you his card and stumbles out of the bar, just as Ben finally emerges from dealing with his famous, yet leaky, butt.

Do you ditch Ben Affleck, a guy who yes, has made some questionable decisions in his life, but is still an alright guy, just to star in a movie with a man when you cannot, for any reason, condone any of his recent works?  Or do you stay with Ben, forever wondering what that glimpse of being a celebrity would have been like?

promises

Friends.

Colleagues.

People who stumbled upon my blog searching for “without underwear.”

Today I want to tell you something that I am extremely proud of.

In the right pocket of my pants right now, there is a stick of Burt’s Bees chapstick that I’ve had for three months now.

That’s right, you read that correctly, three months.

Do you even realize how difficult it is to keep the same chapstick for three months, without losing it once?  It’s like getting Thom Yorke of Radiohead to stop being so damn weird all the time – an incredibly arduous task.

This is why my chapstick is a great source of pride for me.

Some people are proud of the way they’ve helped others, some people are proud of scholarly achievements, but I don’t want any part of that my friends.

No, let me bear the weight of keeping track of a single tube of chapstick, with each day of use dangerously raising the risk of losing it.

But no!

I will not be defeated!

And when I listen to people who say silly things like, “Dude it’s just chapstick, you can always buy another one,”  I laugh!  Oh how I laugh!

For these people do not realize what I’m really doing.  These feeble-minded people, who treat their chapstick with the reckless abandon one treats their grandparents when they get too old to remember to send them money on their birthdays, do not understand.

I am persevering!

I am rising above the carelessness of every day life!

And most importantly, I am keeping a promise I made to a small Moroccan boy, whose parents could not afford chapstick, and who wanted me  - no matter what happened – to never lose my chapstick.

Yes that small Moroccan boy never existed, but I will never forget him, and I will never forget my chapstick.

this is what i’m thinking about right now

Let’s say two of your relatively close friends convince you to go camping, even though you tell them that you’d rather punch yourself in the face six times in a row. On the first day it rains the entire day and your one friend complains about how he misses his ex-girlfriend even though everyone knows she is a total bitch.  On the second day it rains the entire day and your other friend spends two hours trying to convince you that the B-52s were one of pop music’s most underrated bands. On the third day it stops raining and while you’re away looking for dry wood for a fire that night, you stumble upon a drunk leprechaun.  You don’t judge the leprechaun for being drunk at 10:37 in the morning, and because of your unexpected kindness, the leprechaun decides to (for the first time in his life) stop drinking completely and hands you three gold coins.  He tells you that they are each worth 46 million dollars, but only if you give two of them away.  You cannot keep them all for yourself.  You start to question this, but before you can get your argument out, the leprechaun scolds you for questioning him, saying, “I might be drunk, but I am still a leprechaun, and you, you are just a sad man camping.”  You decide the leprechaun is right.  You then thank the leprechaun, he thanks you, and you return to camp.

Do you give these two gold coins from the now recovering alcoholic leprechaun to your two friends (after all,  if they hadn’t convinced you to come camping, you would’ve never been given the gold in the first place) or do you give them to two other, less annoying people?

a man of many talents

I could fall pretty far and still live.

It’s really a unique skill I have.

This is a point I have tried to make to Ari, J.P. and countless others.

“But how far, Chris?  How far???” You must be asking yourself.

If you’re not asking yourself that then you must have Something Better To Think About and if that’s the case then please email me so we can talk about How You Feel.  Or maybe I’ll just steal the idea for my next post.

I could fall eight stories and still live.

No problem at all.

I’d probably break my legs, but otherwise I’d be fine.

Of course I’d shield my face from the fall, because if anything happened to it I’d be out of my job as a George Clooney look-a-like and that would be A Bad Thing.  George gets a huge attitude when things go wrong – trust me, it’s not pretty.

See, the secret is that you have to roll when you hit the ground.

I learned that from watching movies about combat, like Navy Seals.

Also, I wouldn’t be running and jumping out of the window, it’d be a slow and controlled fall.

Frankly, I laugh when I hear about people dying from falling out of windows at anything under eight stories.

Okay, maybe I don’t laugh.

But I certainly think about how I would have done things better and not have let some enraged lover push me out – because that is just silly.

I think that my ability to fall really far and still live would even make me something of a celebrity.

I can see the headlines now, “Man Falls Eight Stories and Lives!  Cool Blog Too!”

I’d be in the hospital and everyone would Feel Bad For Me and I’d get rich from the book deal and George would be okay with it because my face would be fine and I’d tell people to read my blog and they would and maybe I wouldn’t even have to do the dishes anymore.

I imagine it’ll go something like that.

Don’t you?