Don't be that asshole

If all is going according to plan, the man in front of me on the plane has sea urchins stuck in his butthole.  Probably not though, it wasn't a very well thought out plan.  Before I seem like a douche (too late?) here's a little background:

1. He was in his 40s and hitting on the college girl next to him.
2. He was clearly not a successful businessman (cause he was in shitty no room economy and not business class).
3. He reclined his fucking seat.
4. He was the only one on the whole airplane that I could see with a reclined seat.

I'll concede the first two points as it is a very real possibility that I'll never be a successful businessman and also a somewhat less real possibility I'll live to see my 40s.  But reclining your seat in economy?  That shit's unforgivable.  I wish I was standing over him right now with the sea urchins asking comfortable now jackass?!

This whole situation probably could have been avoided were I assertive enough to ask him not to. (Grammar check thinks were is incorrect but says nothing about ending my sentence with a preposition?)  I just thought it went without saying; the other 80 people in the cabin didn't need to be told.  However, I'm accommodating to a fault, and avoid confrontation like it's responsibility.  Instead I curl up into a ball of contorted indignation desperately hoping my daydreams are prophetic and not just pathetic.

For those of you wondering in what situation could sea urchins get stuck in his anus:  What if he said the wrong thing to a sushi chef with Yakuza ties?

For those brave souls that want to know still more about me: I ate ice cream straight out of the gallon carton while writing this post.  Yes, it's 1 in the afternoon.

I'm molting

I went to the pool 5 days ago and I don't believe in sunscreen.  My Israelite ancestors wandered the desert for 40 years and they didn't have no icky sunscreen.  I think I developed melanoma.

Anyway, I've spent the past few days peeling my shoulders and creating a giant skinmountain.  It's not that gross; it's exactly what it sounds like.  I dunno, maybe normal people think that's gross.  Fuck 'em, I don't need them! (I don't really mean that please stay)

Anyway I'm telling you this not just to claim credit for coining skinmountain (an up-and-coming neologism, I assure you) but also because I feel like my new epidermis is bringing a new person.  This new person is trying to eat healthier (are peanut butter and whole wheat Ritz healthy?  Really?  But they're whole wheat!), slightly less afraid of bugs, and might even start wearing sunscreen.  He doesn't want to commit to anything though, that much hasn't changed.

Anyway I need to find my phone and some friends because doing nothing on Friday night is being more of a loser than I'm prepared to admit to being.  Ciao

PS my short term goal for this blog is to become the #1 Google result for skinmountain.  Let's make it happen people, it's part of the plan to get famous.

The Texas DPS sucks

I already know how to run it better.  Bring your own selfie.  Imagine how much time that'd save?

Tomorrow will be one month with an expired license so I finally got around to renewing it today.  Also I have something I need to get notarized and mailed by the 20th, and even though a cop will look the other way for an expired license, a notary public will not (SPOILER: it's a ticket [my first]).  It still expires on my birthday instead of six years from today as if to say, "Fuck you procrastinator; you will find no solace here!"

I tried to look like hell for my picture.  I'm sick of bouncers squinting at my ID before they acknowledge that the person in the picture could possibly have degraded into whatever stands before them.  On the topic of looking like shit, there were like no attractive people at the DPS.  Texas has a DPS instead of a DMV because of our commitment to safety.  It's one of the pillars of our society, along with guns, binge drinking, and Tex-Mex.*  Please don't think I'm talking about these activities in a disparaging way, I would die without breakfast tacos.

Anyway, back to the unattractive people.  Assuming the sample I saw today was an accurate representation of drivers in the greater south Austin area, I am 95% sure that only between 1.1% and 5.7% are good looking.  (That is 6 out of 213 for those of you keeping score).  Most everyone had a tattoo or small child or combination of the two.  I'm not saying tattoos make you ugly.  Children do.  I don't know why I even brought up tattoos.  I guess I've never looked at somebody and found them unattractive then reconsidered my judgement upon seeing their tattoo.

So maybe I'm in a new era of getting shit done.  Blog post everyday.  Maybe I'll stop being controlled by crippling doubt and show people I have a blog.  3 posts is a healthy back catalogue right?


*I am convinced that Tex-Mex poses a far greater risk to public health than barbeque, though I lack the data to support this claim.

English is just so silly

I am presently training my spellchecker.  I want walletcrising to be a word, like I am presently in a state of walletcrising.  Alas, it's not.

If I ever get any readers that work for Oxford, Merriam-Webster, or even Random House please let me make just one word.  Fret not, I will come up with something better than walletcrising.  I would like the good people at Oxford to note that I am a big fan of their comma.

I missed the bus that was supposed to be taking me to the park right now because of my wallet.  Whoops.  Fuck.  There will be gratuitous swearing in this blog.  However, I feel that that instance was absolutely necessary.

I love using that that.  English is just so silly sometimes.

Hello world.

I can summon pizzas from my laptop.  Let that sink in for a moment.  I can make a stranger bring me actual food (does pizza count?) when I read the incantation from my spellbook*.  I have since attempted to manipulate the internet into providing for all of my needs with mixed success.  These are all things:

Wings/Pizza/Chinese:  Success.  Throw in some free subs and you could find yourself on this list Jimmy John's.  (This blog will sell out at the first opportunity.)

Booze:  The biggest disappointment.  Probably for my own good.

Medical attention:  This one's a toss-up.  WebMD telling me not to peel my blister didn't stop me from trying to fill a Gatorade bottle with skin.  (First time readers: I'm hideous.)

Laundry:  The Internet will not wash my pants.  This would not be necessary if it could fill my other needs.

Renewing my license:  It will be 3 weeks tomorrow, what's wrong with me?

Elucidating the abstruse:  How an asshole lets you know he's got crippling student debt.

Companionship:  Please be my friend.  That's why I started this blog.  (And the aforementioned selling out)



*Not a healthy way to think of your credit card.

PS I realize that the license doesn't really fit with the rest of the list.  It serves to provide a bit of introduction of the horrible person I am and also maybe to shame me into doing something about it.