KONY 2012 [My Thoughts]

Don't you even think for one minute that I forgot about you guys. I'm like a mother robin: I have to feed my little birdies [you's a good birdie!]. I know most of you have been salivating in anticipation of a new, delicious post. Well, salivate no longer my precious hatchlings, and open wide! I'm here to regurgitate what you've been waiting for and spit it right in your face.

I was originally going to post a long, drawn out explanation on why I am questioning Invisible Children and their financial allocations towards helping these kids, but I am suffering from writer's block and laziness [mostly laziness].  

I will say simply this: first of all, I think the motives behind the campaign are honest and genuine. I think this Kony fucker is a phony piece of bologna and deserves to be shot in the dick.  I do, however, question the organization and its inability to cut their own expenses (i.e. salaries, operating costs, indie film editing, etc) in order to utilize more funds for helping these suffering children. Finally, I believe some of the folks who think they support the ideals and goals of Invisible Children need to inform themselves on what exactly those ideals and goals are [simply reading will suffice].

I'll leave you with my inspiration for the latter:



Win, Rub It In [Lose, STFU!]

Have you ever been sitting in a job interview, eyes locked with the person on the other side of the table, and they proceed to ask you, "Do you enjoy winning or hate losing?"  Think about it. 

Which is it?

Keep thinking. 

OK that's enough. 

My brain hurts thinking about how much your brain hurts from thinking.  Some people would answer, "Um, C, all of the above?"  But those people are fucking working at McDonald's and Wal-Mart.  I personally have never had this question asked of me and chances are likely neither have you[my reason is that I don't do the whole "jobs" or "interviews" thing].  But if you were to be asked this, say, in an interview setting, what would you answer?  I know my answer.   

Personally, I fucking hate losing.  Not that there are people who enjoy losing, but I just hate losing more than I enjoy winning.  It might suffice to say that I am a sore loser.  Don't jump to conclusions just yet.  I am also a sore winner.  Is there anything wrong with that?  I say no [no, I say!]. 

A simple experiment to explain my hatred of losing or my pleasure of winning would consist of one reading my Twitter feed.  I know, folks, I do tend to blow up Twitter when I am engulfed in a sports game that has even a hint of relevancy to me.  Last night is no exception.  Iowa shat down the throats of those bastard cheese mongers from the armpit of America.  Some people refer to that armpit as Wisconsin.  I have friends, unfortunately, who root for Wisconsin and I made damn sure that they heard my boasting loud and clear after the Hawkeyes swept those milk-guzzling cow fisters. 

In my eyes, that's what is so great about winning [no Charlie Sheen comparisons, please].  Call me callous or inconsiderate.  Call me a sore winner.  Call me obdurate.  Don't call me obdurate.  You don't know what that shit means [neither do I].  No matter what you call me, I'll just take my index finger and gracefully point it towards the scoreboard [bitch].  But don't you dare talk shit to me if my team loses.  Remember, I fucking hate losing. 

Major League Baseball great George Brett once said, "If a tie is like kissing your sister, losing is like kissing your grandmother with her teeth out."  I don't necessarily agree.  I prefer kissing my grandmother with her teeth out [less teeth, more tongue].  I'm kidding.  I'm more inclined to say losing is like kissing your dog two minutes after you just watched your dog eat its own shit.  And your dog's shit consisted of its own puke that it just ate two minutes before that.  Is this getting graphic?  Good.  That is how "shitty" losing is, and I fucking hate it.

Poop jokes are making a comeback with this guy, by the way.  If you were asked, "Do you enjoy winning or hate losing?" how would you answer? [?] Losing means satisfaction for foes and artillery for friends to use against you and your losing team.  There is nothing worse than your friends taking jabs towards your team at your expense [trust me, my friends are about even par with me on the asshole scale].  There is, however, something amusing and fulfilling about doing it to them.  It's a difficult question to answer, but it's reasonable when you break it down.  What's worse: being the "butt of the jokes" or being the hand slapping those jokes all over said "butt"?  Don't be the butt.      

In my obnoxiously hasty opinion there is truly no wrong way to answer this question [no wrong way to eat a Reese's either, they say].  Just think of it this way: if you hate losing, that means you prefer winning.  If you enjoy winning, that means you still prefer winning.  So it's a win-win situation [or "lose-win"].  No matter how you answer, you'll be prepared.  And you'll be prepared simply because you read my blog [you're welcome].  You can't have your cake and eat it too. But if someone else has their own cake, fucking blow out all of their candles.     


HAPPY FRIDAY, FRIENDS!

Stop the Bandwagons, ESPN [Endorsing Sports People's Nomenclature]

If you haven't heard of the NBA's most recent Asian invasion, better known as Jeremy Lin, then you need to check your sandals at the door before entering this dojo.  I'm not a die-hard NBA fan, but I do appreciate a good story when I see one, especially one that has trouble seeing me back [-.-].  Anyways, this kid is ridiculous.  He's blowing up the Twitter-verse, making world news headlines, and surprisingly enough, ESPN is practically sucking him off with every chance they get [not at all surprising].

Most of the daily shows aired on ESPN (be it First Take, Around the Horn, or Sports Center) make it a point to discuss the popular stories, big plays, or current events surrounding the sports world.  But whenever some phenom comes along like Jeremy Lin or Tim Tebowner, ESPN shows their true colors: playing favorites.  Don't get me wrong, Jeremy Lin's "kimono to riches" story makes for a fantastic headLINe and LINteresting read.

Just to give you some background on the Asian sensation: he was born somewhere in Asia; then moved to the US because his dad was good with computers and/or math; then he set the world record for finishing the Rubik's cube blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back; then he went to Harvard; then he didn't get drafted; then he got signed to the Knick's D-league affiliate; then he scored 20-something points in his first ever start; now he is famous.  All of that was learned from an hour or so watching ESPN [Rubik's cube story is mine]. 

ESPN loves to tell a proper feel good story like this one.  Then keep telling it.  Then tell it some more.  Then tell it a few more times.  Then re-tell it.  Granted, I'm sure ESPN isn't the only network that is known to beat a dead horse [Animal Planet also known for this].  It is just truly tiresome when I turn on my TV, switch it to ESPN and hear the same name a hundred times.  It makes ESPN almost LINpossible to watch.  See, there I go using their termLINology.  The reason I bring this up is because I hate Tim Tebow and ESPN made me hate Tim Tebow even more than I had already hated Tim Tebow.  I have no reason to hate anybody, really.  No one should ever hate another person, especially one whom you've never even met.  But I don't follow these guidelines.  I don't play by these rules.  I hate Tim Tebow and if ESPN doesn't cool it on the Lin favoritism, I will soon hate him.

Keeping on this topic [thanks, ESPN], I have compiled a list of my top 10 favorite athletes and ESPN personalities to hate [list is subject to change, depending on the season]:


10.) Dick Vitale. I used to be a big fan of his until I started following this hysterical bandwagoner on Twitter. He tries so hard to be unbiased in his assessment of NCAA basketball but it inevitably ends with him fellating Coach Calipari or Coach K.

9.) Kris Humphries. Man, did you screw the pooch. No really, that was Kim's nickname when she was banging BBCs and making sex tapes. I hate you for turning ESPN into E! News. And you're not very good at basketball. 

8.) Kobe Bryant. I don't know if I necessarily hate Kobe Bryant but he did rape a girl so I figured that was enough probable cause to establish some sort of animosity towards him. Hot wife, though.

7.) Jay Cutler. This one really doesn't have much connection with ESPN, but more so to do with his fans (most of whom are my best friends). I mean he's engaged to a B-list celebrity who was relevant to high school girls for being the slutty one on Laguna Beach.  He's really not that interesting, folks.

6.) Skip Bayless. I know it is part of his "image" to be perceived as a brash, relentless, and unforgiving journalist, but go fuck yourself, Skip. You are the king of bandwagons and a Tim Tebow apologist. For this, I hate you.    

5.) Brett Favre.  You'd think after retiring, then re-retiring, then re-re-retiring, he'd get sick of the spotlight.  Instead, his name is always popping up on ESPN with speculation of his return.  Find someone new to stalk on a daily basis.
 
4.) Lou Holtz. Give me a break ESPN. If I wanted to watch a grey-haired, senile, 80-year-old nut case with a lisp I would buy the complete DVD collection of the "Beverly Hillbillies". He has absolutely no insight, and is bat-shit crazy.

3.) Mark Schlereth. If you don't know who he is, then you're a lucky son of a bitch. This life-sized bobble head is like your uncle at Thanksgiving. He keeps telling the same stories over and over, but no one really gives a shit what he's saying.

2.) Tim Tebow. I don't buy his God fearing, religious nonsense, nor do I think he is even a half-decent NFL quarterback. I do, however, think it's fucked up that he voluntarily circumcised children in the Philippines.  Guess he has to get action from somewhere.
  
1.) LeBron James. This one is a given. Any person that voluntarily drags themselves into the spotlights and drama of ESPN is just asking, no begging, to be hated.  He's an egotistical, self-righteous, backstabbing piece of shit. Plus, he's ring-less. What's to like about a guy who can't win the big ones?











I'm sure most will disagree with my list, but these are my opinions and twelve times out of ten my opinions matters more than yours.  If I cared about which athletes or ESPN personalities you hated I would read your blog [hint: I don't]. But because you read mine, thank you.


HAPPY FRIDAY, FRIENDS! 

                            

Fun Facts [Don't Believe Them]

Hello, my loyal readers.  I apologize, firstly, for neglecting this cluster-fuck of nonsense I call my blog.  Give me some credit, though, I am on a one-post-a-week diet [could be more annoying, could be less annoying].  Not that any of you could care less, but I have been busy studying for the LSAT [yes, I do other things than tweet, listen to music, and beg for your readership].  For those of you who don't speak acronym-ology, I forgive your ignorance [Law School Admission Test]. 

That's enough about me, let's talk about me, me.  I was thinking the other day [my usual segue] about some random facts I've come across in my life, be it on Twitter, Google, or under the cap of a Peach Tea Snapple [Yum!].  A lot of these facts are useless and to be honest with you, pretty fucking erroneous in my opinion [my opinion supersedes yours].  I'm the king of useless and erroneous facts however, so I absorb that shit like a pair of Depends on your grandmother [commence 3 minute vomit break].  For instance, one "fact" read something like this: "Only 2% of the world's population possesses green eyes."  Fun fact about me #1: I have green eyes.  So I'm special right?  I'm finally unique in society?  No [ah, shucks]. 

You see, "Eye Color" [all of this is by pure assumption, by the way] is most-likely documented when a child is born, say, on a "Birth Certificate".  Well, what about those millions of children who are born undocumented in Africa, Asia, and Africasia?  Exactly.  They probably have brown eyes in the first place [it's not racist, it's a fact] so they are automatically discounted from the "population" in the aforementioned "fact" because they, as well as their eye color, are undocumented.  In all reality, the "2%" is just a sample of a sub-sample of a sample's sub-sample.  Get what I'm saying here?  It's not really a fucking fact. 

The next "fact" I read [and I'm not double-checking these] was something like: "At night, the average person falls asleep within 7 1/2 minutes".  Really?  Fun fact about me #2: I don't fall asleep within 7 1/2 minutes.  It takes me fucking days to fall asleep. I'm talking for-ev-er [Squints' voice from Sandlot].  I started writing this post on Tuesday night and I've been up since.  And again, who is recording this experimental data and putting it on the bottle caps of delicious Snapple treats?  Is there a tiny man in your room [yes] watching you sleep, with a miniature stopwatch in hand?  Every time you lay down for bed [or is it, "lie down"?] --"Click"-- there goes the data retriever man watching you.  Shit! You didn't actually fall asleep --"Click"-- restart timer.  Seriously, how do they get this information? They make it up, that's how.

Here's another brilliant one.  I just went to UberFacts' twitter page to find one that really chapped my ass: "Left-handed people die, on average, 9 years earlier than right-handed people." Fun fact about me #3: I'm right-handed, bitches [sorry I'm not sorry, southpaws].  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there is statistical evidence that can prove or disprove this "fact".  But, c'mon! Is there really a person working in every morgue, every hospital, and every coroners' office checking two boxes: "Handedness" and "Age at Expiration"?  Probably not.  And if for some reason you, God bless your soul, are employed in this sort of field, mark me down for "Right" and "32". 

I realize it may be difficult to understand my sense of reasoning here [or lack thereof].  Even so, I've come to the conclusion that with my unique green eyes, my abnormal insomnia, and my lifespan that is nine years longer than yours, I'm not really all that special.  Except for the FACT that I have a blog and you just wasted 10 minutes of your day reading it [GOT 'EM!]!

HAPPY FRIDAY, FRIENDS!

      

Taxi Servant

So I was walking in to HyVee this afternoon and I saw this scene:

I don't know about you, but I tend to drive myself to the grocery store. Especially in suburban Iowa. But who knows, maybe he lives alone with 6 cats, got a DUI a year ago and needs a ride. Or maybe his brother drives a yellow cab as a cover-up to launder his money. Whichever way you look at it, you can't really beat having someone help load your groceries [middle-aged man who is perfectly capable of loading own groceries]. Nevertheless I thought it was awkward and hilarious all the same.

Happy Friday!

Seriously Funny

So I had a revelation the other day. And by "the other day" I mean twenty-six minutes ago. I'm thinking about getting serious.  Not like, down-on-one-knee and pop-the-question serious, but serious nonetheless.  I've spent countless hours with her and I know that we have a great thing going.  She lets me do basically whatever the fuck I want, all the while she keeps me in line.  It's a very healthy relationship and the give and take is almost reciprocal.  There's nothing more satisfying than putting in a full effort to please her and getting positive, raw, emotional feedback.  I'm speaking, of course, about this blog.

This blog [She] is my new hobby [Obsession].  I have quite the addictive personality, trust me [My friends are nodding their heads: yes, yes].  I have never been one to fully commit to anything, however. Except for maybe sports, my friends, and extra-curricular activities [Partying and bull-shit].  Truly, when it comes to anything not aforementioned, I've unfortunately been a pretty half-assed, on my own time, kind of guy.  Ask a past girlfriend and they will tell you exactly that [which explains why I'm single] [[Insert self-pity joke here]].

This is my Achilles heel.  This is my crown of thorns.  It makes me cringe when I think of all the things I could have, should have, or would have done.  But that is why life is so brutally awesome [Oxymoron, moron].  You get to make those mistakes just as long as you learn from them.  Just don't keep making those mistakes and say you're learning from them [I've made that mistake].  This blog is my way of committing, learning from the past, and having a say in my future [Seriousness ends... HERE]. 

I don't want this shit to get too serious because that ruins my whole image of being crude and heartless [Blog so hard/that shi cray].  Truly, I am serious when I need to be. Like now, for instance. A few weeks ago, my mom told me that I needed to find a "girlfriend". So, I looked her dead in the eyes and in the nicest way possible I told her, "Go fuck yourself." [I'm kiiiiidding].  But she did say that.  I took it as, "Brian, you're never going to find a nice young lady, so you might as well put all your eggs in one basket and start a blog."  Luckily, I'm not a female so I have ZERO eggs to fill my proverbial basket with.  I do, however, have a fantastic sense of humor and no remorse for anything or anyone [Again, kiiiiidding].  So that brings me here. 

If I've learned one thing over the course of my short life it is this: I am here to laugh and create laughs [Ok, 2 things really].   Also this: never eat Taco Bell unless you have set aside approximately 2 hours for yourself  to sit on the toilet [Poop jokes still good with this guy].   And also this: dentists will never learn to stop asking you questions with their hands in your mouth.  And this: I am now a better person from the mistakes I made. Whether it be running over that dumb cat on purpose, throwing someones microwave off the third floor balcony, or defacing W's "Popcorn 4 Two" bucket, I've learned to never make mistakes twice [Or make mistake twice if worthy of laughs].        

I don't have the foggiest idea where this damned blog thing will take me, nor do I care to be honest.  But, if someone gets a good laugh, the slightest chuckle, or even a faint smile for that matter, this will all be worth it [Mostly hoping for a ticket to Hollywood or at least a book deal]. 

So here's to being serious when you need to [Work, funerals, the DMV, etc] and to being funny when you want to [Yesterday, today, tomorrow, etc].  Thanks for reading. At this rate I'm well on my way to becoming almost famous.              

Society: You're a Crazy Breed

Think of an animal that begins with the letter 'I' [Yes, you].

Next, think of a country that begins with the letter 'D'.

Don't peak.

I said don't peak!

Ok, now that I know you're thinking about an iguana in Denmark, let's get started. If by chance you were thinking of an Indochinese tiger in the Dominican Republic, stop reading National Geographic and start reading this. I saw that trick in a movie called Biutiful. The title, Biutiful, is an awful Spanish spelling of the English word, "beautiful". This has absolutely nothing to do with what is to follow, but I digress [Digress spelled ADhD in Spanish].

Yes, as a matter of fact, I did create this image [Thanks to Google, Microsoft Paint and photographic piracy]

As I was saying, television is ridiculous these days. You can't watch five whole minutes without being bombarded by boner-inducing pharmaceutical commercials, inundated by imbeciles like Binder and Binder, or guilt-tripped by an old man telling you that, "a penny-a-day feeds a family of 8 in Africa" [Yeah, with pennies]. A penny a day doesn't even feed a dead dog in Africa, dumb ass.

Speaking of dead dogs, how sad are those ASPCA commercials [See what I did there?]? Yes, you know exactly what I'm talking about. The commercials where Sarah McLachlan is monotonously droning in the background about being "in the arms of an angel" while pictures of maliciously treated dogs and satanic cats tirelessly fade in and out. We live for those commercials. We loathe them, but love them; we dread them, but desire them; we want them, but want to be weened from them [Sorry, tangents...].

This is what is fucked up about our society: we will inevitably watch those goddamn animal cruelty commercials with tears streaming down our cheeks but when a commercial comes on about a starving child in Afr... CLICK ["I was planning on switching the channel back anyways."-everyone]. Those starving African children commercials are heartbreaking, don't get me wrong. But, no one, I mean absolutely NO ONE, wants to sit through those commercials [Exceptions: Mother Theresa, my mother, Princess Diana, and Angelina Jolie]. And it has nothing to do with our lack of desire to "give back" or our "xenophobic views of the world", but more so to do with the fact that we, as an American society, hate feeling guilty.

What I'm trying to say here is we'll gladly sit on a channel and get a little teary-eyed watching Bruno and Princess whimper and pant on the screen because we don't feel guilty. We know we didn't do that to Bruno or Princess [Michael Vick did.]. But God forbid we listen for a millisecond to the instructions of this senile, eighty-year-old white man on how to donate money to starving African children, because he's making us feel guilty. Hang on, Mr. Spokesperson of Saving the World. I need to finish this Costco bag of pizza flavored Combos before I lick the pizza flavored Combo dust off my fingers, fumble around in my lazy boy for the remote, and put my SONY Digital Dolby surround sound on mute. Just so I don't have to feel guilty. Feeling guilty yet? [Me neither.].

Eddie Vedder said it best when he said it best, "Society, you're a crazy breed." Damn right we are. We're a crazy fucking breed, Eddie. That's just it, though. We are a breed. We are a breed of well-to-do Earth citizens that hate feeling guilty about being well-to-do Earth citizens. And you can't forget, we love our animals over here [This is America, bitch]. Who's to say Eddie Vedder wasn't hinting towards our society somehow being an ancestral relative to an undisclaimed breed of dog? Maybe that's why we can relate to them so much. Maybe that's why we change the channel on those "penny-a-day" commercials but marinate in our own tears during the ASPCA ones. Ever think about that?

No?

Me neither. I just needed a way to tie all this shit together.

Happy Hump Day.

Bumper Stickers

There is nothing that screams “I’m white trash”, “I’m a raging liberal” or “I’m living vicariously through my kids” more than a fucking bumper sticker. In my opinion, if you are advertising anything other than an Alma Mater, sports team, or Old Glory on your vehicle, you might as well drive that piece of shit straight off of a cliff [Right. Now.].

Maybe I’m being callous or shallow towards the obese woman in the ‘98 Ford Taurus with mismatched doors. But if I’m stuck behind you at a red light, the first thing my eyes latch on to is that abominable advertisement: "My Daughter is an Honor Role Student”. I’m glad you had the audacity to slap that sucker on your loosely attached bumper for all to see [Yes, it was spelled “role”, not “roll”]. And even if your daughter, God bless her soul, is an honor roll student, I’m sure she doesn’t want her mother advertising it to the rest of the human world. So rip that fucking thing off, fix your sputtering hunk of shit, and get out of my way.

Adults living vicariously through their kids is something that really chaps my ass. But nothing pisses me off more than when I’m changing lanes on the Interstate [it’s an expressway—>blow me], than when “The Intimidator” immediately cuts me off. [Check it.] I’m talking about the overblown "3” merging right in front of me as if he’s taking turn 3 at the Daytona 500 [is 3 a coincidence or what?]. For the common man, a simple turn signal would suffice. Not Cletus Mayne [made up name]. That cocksucker takes over my lane with his rusted Ford Ranger spitting fumes at me just so I can bow down to the 3. And while I’m stuck staring at that sorry excuse of an homage to a dead guy, I might as well wave to the 4 Mexicans hunkered down in the back of the truck bed [Hypothetical, extremely racist, situation].

Even still, it does get worse. I want to saw my hand off with a rusty butter knife every time I’m stuck at a red light, waiting patiently in the right lane, and the asshole in front of me is going straight [What a dick!]. Now, I have to wait an extra minute and 45 seconds behind this libbed-out Prius and… Oh! Oh! Bumper sticker. “Coexist”, huh? Go fuck yourself. I have two dogs. I used to have a parakeet. I do “coexist” [minus the Buddhist shit and Star of David]. I went to a Catholic High School, OK? That’s the definition of “coexisting”. We had the one Jew, maybe 3 Hindus, and a couple of Asians that probably practiced Taoism or Taekwon-do. So don’t patronize me on my knowledge of world religions, I aced that shit [different teacher from first blog entrance]. Just take your electric go-cart and keep driving left, because that rainbow sticker next to “OBAMA RULES” does not allow you to go to the right [Ever].

I know I’m not the only one that thinks about some of this shit while driving, but I’ll gladly be the one to write it. And I don’t usually have road rage, I promise. This stuff only happens between 8 AM and 10 PM. I assure you I’m not racist, homophobic, or biased in any way [well, maybe biased]. I don’t hate NASCAR. I do, however, HATE people that try to influence me by sticking a blatantly obtrusive, hideous piece of paper on their car. Keep that shit to yourselves people; that’s what Twitter is for.

Irony Isn’t so Ironic Sometimes

First of all, I’m going to go ahead and assume everyone understands what the definition of “irony” is before I get started here. Secondly, I’m going to assume that everyone has heard of or is familiar with Alanis Morissette’s polar-opposite-of-ironic song entitled, “Ironic” [It Isn’t Fucking Ironic]. This song absolutely bothers me. Like it bothers me in a way that it shouldn’t really bother me [You’ll see why].

Have you ever taken the time to listen to these lyrics? [Probably not]. Well, I have. And let me tell you, there is nothing ”ironic” about the shitty, god-forsaken life Alanis Morissette is singing about. Let’s start with dissecting some of these lyrics [Brace yourselves, I’m about to get abrasive].

“An old man turned ninety-eight/he won the lottery and died the next day”. Wow. Way to set the tone for the most depressing song ever, Alanis. But is it really, ironic? [No]. Wouldn’t it be ironic if, ”An old man, turned ninety-eight/met his son for the first time and died the next day”? Or perhaps it would be ironic for, “A baby boy, 8 pounds 2 ounces in weight/born two hours ago and died the same day”? No. None of these things are ironic. They are all just fucking awful, helpless situations and I can’t believe you made me think such terrible thoughts, you satanic Canadian.

Another blatantly non-ironic lyric that Alanis wrote: “It’s like rain on your wedding day/a free ride, when you’ve already paid”. Hmm, let’s think again here. Is she writing about irony or the absolute shittiest possible things to happen to a human being in one day? There is zero irony in a rainstorm ruining one of the happiest days of a person’s life. At the same time, there is absolutely nothing ironic about paying for a ride and learning later on that it was, in fact, free. These are just a series of unfortunate events that rarely happen to anybody except a nappy-haired, washed-up, 90’s alternative singer [Yes, you, Alanis].

And don’t tell me “the good advice, that you just didn’t take” is ironic [Because it just isn’t]. If one chooses to not take ”the good advice”, then God bless them. That is completely up to their own discretion. And that "traffic jam, when you’re already late" bullshit? You should have thought to leave the homeless shelter a little bit earlier, Alanis. What about the “ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife”? How about a fork. You can’t eat anything with just a knife [Idiot].

Ok, maybe I am the one lost in translation here. Maybe Alanis does have some legitimate irony in her lyrics. But for the love of mankind could you at least cheer it up a bit? Am I correct in saying that “irony” is a literary device used to show humor in a revealed outcome that is contrary to what originally was expected? [Yes, because I fucking dictionary.com’d what “irony” is]. Still, she must have missed her scheduled time to take those happy pills because these lyrics make me want to head-first swan dive off of the 3rd floor balcony at Sigma Chi [Bro shout out]. So next time, Alanis, please don’t call it “Ironic”. Just call it, “I’m Having a Shitty Day and Writing About All of the Shittiest Shit that Could Happen to A Shitty Person Like Me”. Thanks [You’re welcome].

Author’s Note: This piece was entirely out of left field. Which is kind of ironic [don’t you think?], because I tend to be more favorable to right field. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed my cynicism, sarcasm, and overall distaste for Alanis Morissette and her music. If I can withstand my ears bleeding and restrain myself from smashing my head through a coffee table, I might write a piece on Nickelback [Ha! I’d rather get stuck in a traffic jam, when I’m already late].

Nothing as It Seems

I don’t exactly know why I am creating a blog. I have no special interests, no strange story, no real talents to be quite honest with you [Whoever you may be]. I very well could be writing this for myself to look back on in 5 years and say, “Really, Brian? Really? What the fuck were you thinking creating a blog, Brian?”. Then again, maybe in 5 years I’ll be professionally blogging for some professional blog-blog and at that point I will pat myself on the back and flick you all off [Definitely not going to happen].

My influence for the [ ]’s by the way [they’re called brackets] is from a book I once perused called I Am America and So Can You by Stephen Colbert [If you are reading this, you are certainly capable of reading that]. In said book he uses the margin to add witty comments and euphemisms to sort of mock himself. I don’t know how else to describe them nor do I really care to but the bottom line is they are funny to me so they will be funny to you [Nod head in agreement].

Let’s begin. As a sophomore in high school, my Composition I teacher read a story of mine [that’s what composition teachers do, I guess]. The assignment was to write a descriptively descriptive story. We [me, us, my class] were to use multiple adjectives and adverbs to really convey our point and bring the story to life. Really, most kids just Thesaurus.com’d adjectives and adverbs but their stories still sucked. Except for mine [I know, easy on the italics] [[I know, easy on the brackets]].

See, on the feedback I received from anonymous Composition I teacher, [You will find out why she is anonymous] anonymous Composition I teacher gave me a 100% and a note. The note read, [Comma here, right?] ”I have never given a 100% in my whole career as a teacher, but your story was truly emotional and one of the best I have ever read. You have a great talent and I thank you for sharing with me this work of art.” Ok, maybe that’s not exactly what she wrote, but fucking close. And keep in mind she was about my age at the time and had been teaching for maybe 2 years [So, not exactly a whole career]. Nonetheless, that bitch gave me a 100%. Fast forward 4 years or so. I come to find out this Composition I teacher [Who so happened to be my favorite teacher after that A+] was involved in a sexual relationship with a student. FUCK! All my writing credibility was lost. Or at this grand juncture was it found? [Credibility most likely lost and/or never existed].

I’ll let you, the reader, decide. Whoever the fuck you might be. Maybe you’re my friends. Maybe you’re strangers. Maybe you’re anonymous Composition I teacher. Maybe you’re my mom [I hope it’s not you, Mom].

Side note: Mom, if you are reading this, I apologize for my language, I owe $5 dollars in the "Swear Jar".

Psych! There is no "Swear Jar". And if there is one, I’m not paying SHIT!

So there it is. There’s my first blog post. I don’t know where to go from here. Do I shake your hand for reading? Perhaps an awkward one-arm hug? Just stay tuned, I’ll be funnier and more grammatically correct next time.