Check Me Out Broseph!

It’s been a while since I last deposited some money in this little pocket of refried empanada goodness, which can also be considered a blog, depending on the angle you look at it and your appetite.

I can’t promise that this entry is going to be deliciously clever or dripping with one single cogent thought even. In fact, I’m going to just say that there is no destination. It’s going to be a pure and reckless, driving with your knees type of journey. Where to you ask?

I don’t know, but here’s something hollerific to rub your face in and smile.

I plowed through the Internet with a Mack truck like zeal and found dads in short shorts or really hot girls with plungers. But let's not forget the clever fingerbangin' site.

Now that we got that out of the way, it’s safe to say that I simply want to hang out with other men and revel in rugged masculinity today. Send me an e-mail if you’re a hambro and want to arm wrestle or exchange punches in the arm, pop collars, and collectively gel our hair into dangerous spikes, all in one sweeping motion! Yessssss!!!

Douche. Bag. Don’t mind if I doooooo!

Stay tuned. I’m graduating from this bullsh** blog to a real professional Website in the coming days, so prepare for penetrating insight and rigorous scholarship, wisdom and drawn out excuses why it’s OK to eat a banana in public.

Told you. This entry was loosely strung together by the thread of resignation and fleeting thoughts about your mom. Ooooooh she’s so good. MMMMMMpenada good actually.

Birthday Wishes ...

My birthday is this weekend and a dude gets what he wants on his birthday, right? I've never asked for much, but I'm turning a new leaf this year and I'm asking for a little sumpin' sumpin' ... Here's a brief list: ...

1) I want to be told a funny joke by a beautiful woman.
2) Someone should photoshop my face in a Dos Equis "Most Interesting Man in the World" ad.
3) Equestrian. (I don't need to say more than this).
4) Let it rain. I want to wax and milk the day away.
5) Everyone should get excited!

It's going to be a good day.

Open Letter to My Erased Hard Drive

Dear Mac,

I thought I was just buying a simple Macbook whose operative goal was to make me look cool, but you've turned out to be so much more. Your ability to juggle two different applications simultaneously puts you in a league of your own. You reach insurmountable speeds when that technicolor pinwheel spins in a general demise, informing me that the best things in life come to those who wait. You are so hot, and I love it when you sit in my lap and warm my goods like an accomplished lover. Your cunning acumen and reputation culls my mild desires for a long-term companion who I can share all my most secret information with.

We sleep together and the first thing I do is roll over to you and turn you on like you do me, stroke your touchpad, finger your keys. Your wireless convenience allows me to take you everywhere, and where you go, I also follow. Sometimes to the depths of no man's land where people talk with parking lot drawls and have never heard of wi-fi.

Your hard drive makes me whimper, your gigabytes make me swoon. But you said you needed space yesterday in the coffee shop (out of memory and no room) like I was smothering you and you couldn't handle all my needs anymore. I knew this was true when I tried downloading R. Kelly's "Computer Love" and I was denied repeatedly. Out of memory. Incapable of opening up and collecting yet another piece of me. I tried to convince you that it was just a bad day and restarted you, but I quickly learned that your drives were no longer compatible with me because you kept warning me with a prompt that said 'FAILED.'

This broke my heart. So like a fool in love, I went out and bought you that dream RAM you always wanted (4 gigs) and even an external hard drive for moral support, hoping that maybe that would be the answer in giving you the space you needed in our relationship, but you tricked me. You lied to me. You fucked me over when I tried upgrading your operating system to 10.6. You tossed everything we had into the trash without my permission. And now, four years of my life are gone. So much time and energy invested in you. All the pictures we had, music, movies, love letters and spreadsheets. GONE. ALL GONE.

I can't explain the empty feeling of having no data left in our relationship. It's like I don't even know you anymore. I no longer trust your "user friendly" ways. What does that even mean? You freaking whore tart face! Thinking that a relationship counselor would solve our problem was very ambitious of me, especially when the Apple genius tech support told me to get over it and move on because it's impossible to recover data once it's gone.

Initialize me, RAM me, drive me, I don’t give 32 FUCKING bits, I am software at your service. I would do anything to have the data we once had back in our lives. All I wanted to do was make you happy and you screwed me over. I am skeptical of Macs now. But I'll probably get over you with another one in the near future, who will take me to unimaginable places at mind-blowing speeds. I've learned everything and nothing from an erased hard drive. But I will miss you and I will always think fondly of you.

Your helpless user,

JJ

Feng Shui Feeling Limp?

Before you get the sneaky suspicion that I'm becoming some wayward metrosexual, let me preface what I'm about to say by challenging you to the most manly ultimate fight in the history of manly men! {via e-mail}

But first, let me tell you about a dope design firm.

So you want to pimp your palace? Redefine your dull living space? You need some edge in your life? End global warming? Well you need Esther's mega hip help to style and design it for you.

Check out her design firm In Your Space.

If you think I'm wrong, or even slightly fabulous, I will challenge you to a bare-knuckled brawl in the back of a convertible race car, driven by an impossibly hot super model, moving at speeds upwards of 160 mph, on a vast plain in the deserts of West Texas, completing its course on a crazy high ramp that will, shortly after the hot super model chick ejects and rolls to safety, hurl the car and the two of us within it over a cliff and into certain destruction and glory. At the bottom of the canyon, half-dead and mostly on fire, we will claw our way from the smoldering wreckage of the vehicle and begin phase two of the mighty challenge: The dance of mountain lions.

After reading that, I'm allowed to say that I can spot good design, ya heard?

(image source: ffffound)

The Tao of Sarcasm (a variety of topics)

::In an effort to explore the splendors of the lowest form of communication I've skillfully taken the following topics to the stratosphere of sarcastic grandeur: Hot weather, memory foam beds, empty wallets, and cold feet. The literary devices of hyperbole and imagery should enhance your perusal of this highly contemptible and derisive form of blogging, but it could also prove to be a situation of apparently unending awfulness as adult sea lions defecate on your eye balls and make mating calls in your ears::

Memory Foam Beds
So here's the thing with memory foam beds. They don't exactly remember what happened the night before. How do I know this you ask? Well, I'm 5'10, but every night I get into my bed and snuggle up to my girlfriend, there's an impression of Lebron James in my foam mattress bed. I don't like to jump to conclusions, so I postulated that maybe I grow 10 feet in my sleep, or perhaps first impressions really do last and he was the first person to lay on that demo bed in the store. Besides, my girlfriend is a Kobe fan. It's a really comfortable bed, and it's suitable for a King, but why would Lebron be in my bed? I don't like the idea of having to fill size 22 shoes. I don't know how to approach my girlfriend, with tact about this. I bet the wine glass spilled when she was jumping on it (unlike the advertisement suggests) and my memory foam mattress drunk dialed Lebron when my girlfriend left. Yea, this is clearly what happened. Problem solved.

My Tape Player Eats Children
This statement is loosely bound by actual cassette tape ribbon, since it's more accurate to say my tape player eats your face.

I Wish It Was Hot
The mercury climbs to 117 degrees outside and the heat creates a thick blanket of suffocating discomfort that some might consider murderous. Nonsense! My skin begins to mildly sizzle and that's just its way of subtly whispering to me that the stove's on low heat. Turn it up please. I sweat profusely within seconds. My jeans cling to my thighs and I begin generating Olympic size pool rings of sweat under my armpits. I love that! Girls do too. I wish it was hotter though. This is the only condition where I ever feel relief from the mild weather two months out of the year. The hotter the more soothing, duh. It's not hot enough. I want to grimace and melt as I walk to my car. I want to pass out like a bum in his own pool of urine. The feline like sun, ducking and hiding behind the clouds all hours of the day needs to bring it! Such a pussy. It's never hot enough during the summer. Why can't I get heat exhaustion and welcome dehydration more regularly? Is this too much to ask? I hate that my entire summer wardrobe is so Icelandic. I never have the opportunity to wear shorts because it's too frigid! I wonder if people would think I'm weird if I ate ice cream, since it's not even hot outside.

Cold Feet
So I was at a wedding last week and it was in the Arctic circle. I was walking on ice. Sure, you might call it a themed wedding, since no one was wearing shoes on the frozen ground and the ring bearer was a penguin. It was kinda cold, and no doubt, my toes wanted to curl up with a book next to a fire. My feet are happiest when on ice though, like Disney. I just wanna dance! But then this old lady next to me asked when I was getting married. I was bothered by a crippling fear of the dance floor after she posed this question. I felt like all the girls were checking out my feet. The penguins looked like they were having so much fun, spilling and sliding all over the ice though. All I wanted to do was the electric slide, but I was too scared. No more happy feet. I put on some socks I found laying around and everyone scoffed at me, like I was some ultimate party pooper or something. Instantly, my feet were burning and itching. I had acquired athletes foot. Score. Cold to hot in a heartbeat.

Empty Wallets
I can safely say there is nothing more enjoyable in life than reaching in to your pockets, pulling them inside out, and discarding the lint as you shrug your shoulders while realizing the balance of your bank account is equal to that of your 2-year-old niece. The sky's the limit! What are you going to do with all that money? Buy a handful of chicklets? Flick it into a fountain and wish for more? Invest in a postage stamp so you can write a letter to your congressman about the perils of being broke? Or simply ask your niece for some money.

A Caffeine Inspired Memo to Thursday Morning, Courtesy of Devastatin' Dave

I opened my laptop, glazed over my agenda for the day with the similar tenacity of hardened gum glued beneath a table, loosening up at a glacial pace. I yawned, inhaled life and choked on the idea of actually putting forth an effort in being productive.

But then this strange thing happened. I gulped 32 ounces of iced coffee in less than 30 seconds. And my life changed for the better. Here's how it went down ...

Everything went blurry.



And then he spoke to me ...

Devastatin' Dave: Yo Yo Yo JJ! It's 1986, look at your Casio watch because it's about that time to get yo butt in gear. Get yo swagger back! Karate chop yo desk wit yo forehead and get outta robot mode! Don't talk at that library volume either, bitch!

Me: Whoa, Devastatin' Dave. Is it really you?

Devastatin' Dave: Fool, it ain't Mr. T! Stop bein' lazy chump. We gonna put yo slow morning into high mutha' lovin' gear! You ready to get thangs done or what?

Me: No. Sorry ... Dave.

::SLAP TO THE FACE::

Me: Owww! Why'd you just slap me Dave?

Devastatin' Dave: Don't ever call me Dave again. It's Devastatin' Dave. And you just drank enough coffee to energize a Soul Train dummy.

Me: You're right! Now that you mention it. I feel like I can do anything. Build a cake! Improvisational theater! Call my bank to complain about fees! Sharpen 7,000 pencils or learn quantum physics backwards! I'm so excited! Remember that episode of Saved by the Bell where ...

Devastatin' Dave: Yo, chill JJ. You gettin' carried away. We gonna start small. First task I have for you is to act a fool. Get loose. Exercise yo facial muscles and gnaw on yo damn fingers while tapping a pen really fast.



Me: Like this?

::Looks barely human::

Devastatin' Dave: Good. Now I want you to grab the attention of someone near you and spark up a conversation about aardvarks and salary. At the same time tackle yo work tasks like you were an NFL linebacker and think about what ya gonna have for lunch. In the same frame of thought, make a doodle drawing and look up the meaning of life online. One second after you start this, interrupt the one-way conversation about aardvarks and introduce lemurs and ice cream. Proceed to download music while making a phone call. It's called multitasking. Embrace it JJ.

Me: Wow! Look! I'm doing it! I'm being productive!

Devastatin' Dave: ZIP! ZAP! RAP! Got you hooked now fool!

Me: I don't know why I never drank coffee like this before!?!? I wonder where I would be today if I had started drinking coffee earlier? It doesn't matter, I live in the now, now! Let's rap about Trapper Keepers!



Devastatin' Dave: Yo JJ, that thing you do in front of the mirror in your room, when you try and rhyme words ... don't ever do that in public.

Me: Yo Bridget! Got this coffee/I feel like Super Mario/Oops I mean Wario/I like jell-o with my pancakes/Hello, with my handshakes/I'm wearing Jordache jean Jamz so rad you think I'm bad/ Not like Michael Jackson/More like Alf sniffing cat poo-poo. Word. Put that in your trapper keeper, fo life! Yo!

::Coffee causes me to write without thinking::

A Bored Librarian Reviews My Mustache Via Twitter

::A librarian makes observations of my mustache via Twitter. She compares the endeavor to a more spicy day at work::

It's gross and amazing mixed together.

about 30 seconds ago from Web

Up close his mustache looks like two starved mutant leeches mating on his upper lip. Ewww. The mustache explains everything.

about a minute ago from Web

I wish the creepy guy didn't have a mustache. It kinda makes me want to grab life by the handlebars though LOL.

about 2 minutes ago from Web

It's so bad though. I wonder if I'm out of place to kindly ask him to shave it off? He clearly can not grow a manly lip sweater.

about 2.5 minutes ago from Web

I want him. Bad.

about 3 minutes from Web

When people ask what I do at work, I can tell them I help blandly handsome boys grow into men, and fantasize about mustaches. j/k. How can I not like this job?

about 3 minutes ago from Web

The creepy guy just asked me where I can find books on how to groom mustaches. And did the tootsie roll for me!

about 5 minutes ago from Web

He's walking this way. OMG!

about 6 minutes ago from Web

Why is he still there with giant headphones on? Standing and waiting. ???

about 10 minutes ago from Web

So that guy looks totally sketchy hanging outside the women's restroom. He's wearing above-the-knee white shorts and knee high socks. He's waving at me. Creepy.

about 4 hours ago from Web

I think a man sprayed down the stall with cheap cologne to cover up the smell of his crap; it's hard to say which smells worse.

about 5 hours ago from Web

A woman just complained about an awful smell. She said it's ruining her YouTube watching experience.

About 5 hours ago from Web

Turns out that same guy is practicing his Dirty Hairy impersonations out loud, whilst rubbing his nipples.

about 5 hours ago from Web

Woman complained to me that a man wearing white shorts is bothering library patrons

about 5 hours ago from Web

Diana never texts back; apparently she's not impressed with the observation.

about 7 hours ago from Web

Must text Diana that David Hasselhoff is in the heeeeezy.

about 7 hours ago from Web

What do I do? It's a little exciting, I must admit.

about 7 hours from Web

Just called off security because I told them it's nothing to worry about. {I'm a little turned on}.

about 7 hours ago from Web

He totally is! And he's blowing kisses to her in the U.S. history section

about 7 hours ago from Web

OMG! Is that guy sitting on top of the table and making tiger claw motions in the air to her?

about 7 hours ago from Web

A gross guy with a mustache just walked in. He moon walked across the floor and winked at me.

about 8 hours ago

I love how the highlight of my day is reorganizing books and speaking at a low whisper all day.

about 8 hours ago from Web