Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Stream of Consciousness (Trickle of Comatose-ness)

The band needs to go away now and play somewhere else. Please hang it up. Those smirky bobbing heads make me break out in “bad band hives” every time they pop up on my TV screen. Catchy? Maybe. I'm sure they were a real band once with real band dreams and real band songs. Now they are homoerotic clowns. How about…web…dot net…

I don’t understand why women today need to wear gigantic oversized sunglasses that make them look like extras for “The Fly Buzzes Broadway!” Everywhere you look; huge black plastic circles stuck on ladies faces while they walk down the sidewalk clutching Starbucks cups. I believe that Martians were ready to invade us until they saw these women. For this reason alone, they turned around and flew back to Mars. “I don’t want to get any crazy on us,” one Martian was quoted as saying. “That shit never comes off.”

Speaking of coffee, I also noticed that coffee mugs are getting bigger and bigger in sensitive TV shows that feature women having serious discussions about womanly things. You can’t help but notice as one rounds the corner with a humongous mug cradled in her tiny hands. How much coffee is in there? 3 cups? 1 gallon? Does one person really need that much tea in one sitting? Again, Mars, I don’t blame you for hightailing it out of here. The caffeine intake here is staggering.

I was watching “The Biggest Loser” the other night. For those who don’t know, this is a television show that gathers up approximately 20 people who are enormously overweight and then chronicles a series of humiliations (ie. Falling off treadmills, having donuts dangled in front of them, close up camera shots of them vomiting during their first workouts, etc.) as they work their way to a healthier life. I can see that NBC is catering to the supposed intelligence of the people watching the show in the way it is produced. The premise of the show is repeated by every person on the show at least ten times each, per person, per show.

“If I don’t lose weight, I’m going home!”
“I need to get on the scale and see a weight loss, or I could go home!”
“I’m here to lose weight and that is exactly what I’m going to do.”
“At tonight’s weigh-in, I will weigh myself and then possibly go home!”
“I will go home if I don’t lose weight!”

Do the producers of this show really think the audience is so stupid that they don’t understand the simplest of simple premises? Lose weight. Vote. Someone leaves. The End. Oh, and each episode is TWO HOURS LONG. Two hours of repeated premises, vomiting, pizza locked in cages and spinning fatties rolling off of treadmills that are moving faster than an Olympic runner’s feet. NBC fever, catch it!

I have an extremely hard time with small talk. I can’t execute it well. I believe it is an art; an acquired skill, and one that I have not acquired. Some people have a talent for this and they can smoothly run through all the standard small talk bullet points easily and freely and genuinely seem interested. I cannot do this. In reality, I am OK with thinking up the standard small talk questions. I have the hardest time responding to small talk with enough content to keep anyone interested for any period of time. Plus I usually glare at the person with my eyebrows knitted together and try to make the fiercest frowny face I can make until they inch away slowly. Here is a conversation I have had 132 times:

“How’s work going?”
“Eh, it’s going OK I guess.”
“How are the kids?”
“Getting big!”

Just typing this I want to dig out my eyes with an ice pick I’m so uncomfortable. I probably should just stay in my house all the time.

I was watching “Celebrity Rehab” the other night (one of my favorite shows). Heidi Fleiss is on that show rehabbing herself (and doing a poor job). Her lips look like someone kicked her in the mouth with hornet boots. Plus, she lives with birds. Only birds. She dated Tom Sizemore who is also on the show. I think she ran a whore house at some point in her life. Would you purchase the valuable time of a whore from this woman? If she is the whore-master, imagine the whores at her command? I imaging summoning a "Heidi Special" from the back room would be like the scene in Lord of the Rings where the Orcs are being created from mud, shit and transparent mucus membranes. I don’t know what else to say about her.

Every time I get a hair cut, someone in my office (actually the same ass of a someone) comes to my desk the next day and says “Hey, where did your hair go?” and then laughs out loud. Every. Single. Damn. Time. It is times like these I wish I could force an evolution like the X-Men and develop lightning eyesight and electrocute this person. Also: Fire Breath and Laser Feet. I don’t know what Laser Feet would do, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have to answer the same inane questions about the amount of hair I currently possess if I had Laser Feet.

Every time I go to the supermarket, someone stops their cart in the middle of an aisle blocking all possible human foot traffic while they carefully examine the ingredients contained in a ketchup bottle. Then, when you ask them to move, they always look surprised (“Oh, I’m sorry!”) and make a big show of dragging their cart off to the side. Coincidentally, every time I go to the supermarket someone’s cart (not mine) ends up with a busted wheel and a disgruntled shopper sitting inside covered in Corn Flakes wondering how they suddenly ended up there and how their feet and legs got bent at such odd angles. I am anti-social.

1 reaction(s)::

Caba said...

Like the new look ... and you make me laugh, as always.

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