Tag Archives: Bruce Willis is bald and he’s cool

through clenched fists

Well fuck.

Yes, fuck.

Yesterday I found out something that makes me want to watch Lifetime movies while completely sober.  It’s that bad.

Ashton Kutcher is on Twitter.

So is Demi Moore.

Oh and dear mother of god so is Fred Durst.

I know, I know, right now you’re saying, “Who the hell are these people?”  I only wish I didn’t know them.  I only wish that my mind could somehow erase the memories/nightmares of Punk’d, G.I. Jane and Limp Bizkit.  But it can’t.

You see I’m one of those people who loves his Twitter.  Yes that makes me a dork, but I’m also one of those people who likes sports and shooting fireworks at people when I’m drunk so I think that evens me out.

My problem with these people invading Twitter is that now some people that I follow are talking about them, which makes me highly upset.

It’s bad enough that Ashton made everyone think wearing a trucker hat was not only socially acceptable, but cool.

It’s bad enough that Demi Moore left Bruce Motherfucking Willis to marry Ashton.

It’s bad enough that Limp Bizkit – well, c’mon, do I really need to elaborate on them?

But now, when I go to my Twitter page, I have to see people talking about “what Ashton said” and “how positive a person Demi is!”  And yeah, there really was an exclamation point, dammit.

It’s just too much.

Sadly, unless all three of them decide that maybe they should stop inadvertently torturing a blogger they don’t know and probably (hopefully) never will, there’s nothing that I can do.

So tell me about how you’re bringing the ascot back Ashton, because that’s just what we need from you, more fashion advice.  And Demi, please post a picture of you two by the Golden Gate bridge, because yes it’s romantic and it only makes me hate you a little bit more.  Yes, even you Fred, quote some more Albert Einstein, because I’m sure you both have a lot in common.

I want it all.

I guess.


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two face

Yesterday afternoon as I was coming back inside my apartment building after walking my dog, a man on the sidewalk yelled out to me.

I stopped, looked back and asked him what he had said, while carefully examining him to determine if 1) he was a crackhead 2) he was fucking crazy or 3) he was going to ask me for money.  I live in Brooklyn, and these are the first things that pop into my head when a random dude yells at me.

“Jeff!” he said, “You’re Jeff, right?”

“No, not me man, sorry.”

He looked down for minute, and I thought this was my chance to escape, but he persisted.

“You’re not Jeff?  You drive a silver car.”

“No, no.  I don’t even own a car. That’s not me.”

“Oh wow, you look just like Jeff,” he continued, and at that, I made my way into my building.

This moment would not be that odd, of course, had this been the first time this guy said this to me.

But it wasn’t.

That was the second time that same guy said I looked like a man named Jeff in the last two months, and I only realized that after the moment had passed.

So somewhere, in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn or the surrounding neighborhoods, a man named Jeff is walking around being me, and apparently, I am walking around being him.

I like to think that this Jeff guy is a suave, sophisticated man, but if this guy thinks I’m him, Jeff sadly must be a guy who wears sweatpants with dog slobber on them all too often, and occasionally wears his fiancee’s coat when it rains if he’s feeling lazy (which happens to be two sizes too small).

But this is the best I get.

No one ever says I look like anyone famous or anything like that.  Not once has anyone claimed that I look exactly like Bruce Willis even though I have adamantly proclaimed this to Ari more times than I’d like to admit.

No Brad Pitt.

No George Clooney.


Just Jeff.

I wonder if Jeff feels this same way?  I wonder if he’s being called “Chris” and despises me too?  If he is I really don’t feel all that bad for him.

At least he has a car, and a silver one at that.


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paris has got nothing on me

The best thing that could happen to me is that I’d become rich and famous by doing nothing.

A lot of people say that if they won the lottery they’d still work, but there is no way in hell I would.  I’d spend my time buying frivolous things, pursuing activities that lead to minimal growth as a person and going to parties that I have no business attending.

Also, I’d try and get my picture taken as many times as possible.

I’d be all, “No, please no more pictures.  Respect my privacy!” but then I’d smile and tell them about my blog.

The press would follow me around taking pictures of me and put me in all those shitty magazines that hot women read about celebrities doing Normal Things.

Like this:

Chris walks in the dark!
Chris walks in the dark!

After this picture ran in all the hottest mags, there’d be a sudden style surge in dudes who look very bald but seriously aren’t fucking bald dammit.

With all the money and fame I’d probably have to start a charity, because that would lead to even more good press and love from my fans.  I think it would have to do with helping all the people who still think it’s okay to pop their polo shirt collars.  Because they’re not only hurting themselves, but their loved ones, too.

Then I’d probably start doing some acting, because I’d want to and rich and famous people get to do whatever they want.

Maybe I’ll even release an album that absolutely sucks and name it “Oh Damn I’m Cool” and have every single track be about being cool.

I assume sometime after the album bombs and my acting career begins to bore me, I’ll hold a press conference and announce my retirement from Doing Selfish Things because I’ve become disillusioned with the world.

I’d probably also look into funding anti-balding medication research, but you know, just as a favor for this guy I know.  Not for me.


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