Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Dear Chef Boyardick,

A few nights ago I stopped by the deli, as I often do, for two bottles of SmartWater on my way home from work. You stood ahead of me at the cash register put your items down on the counter even though the guy ahead of you hadn't finished paying. 

These items consisted of a bottle of Poland Spring water, a sandwich, and three cans of Chef Boyardee.

The guy in front of you quickly grabbed his change and left, then you looked the cashier over as he ran up the items on the counter. "I've seen you stocking the shelves and sweeping," you said. "Now you're behind the register? What kind of sense does that make?"

The cashier, who perhaps didn't have the best grasp on the English language, didn't respond. The cashier took an extra second perhaps in ringing you up, and you were not having it. 

"Just put the stuff in the bag; it's not that big a deal," you snapped.

Another cashier swooped in and began handling your order. 

While this man rang you up, you looked at me and the two bottles in my arms. "Does that stuff work?" you asked, friendly and cordial, as though you hadn't just potentially created a well of insecurity in this poor man who was probably excited to start his first day at the cashier after years of sweeping and stocking from which he will never really recover.

"What?" I asked. "You mean SmartWater?"


"I don't know ... it tastes better."

You launched into a story about some show you'd seen where bottled water manufacturers filled water bottles of different brands with a garden hose.

"Well the pipes are rusty in my building, so," I began.

But as soon as the second cashier bagged your items, you were out the door, rushing toward the Pastapalooza you clearly had planned when you got home.

Since you left before I could tell you, I thought I'd leave this on the big old Internet in case you might ever see it: 

You, sir, are an Asshole with a capital "A".

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Short Post and a Song #86: So you're only supposed to call your friends bitches, I guess?

A few days ago I was on a very crowded subway train. To the left was a sardine-can clusterfuck of people, while to the right there was plenty of free space. 

One woman couldn't take it. She tapped another woman on the shoulder and said, "Could you please move down? There's space down there."

The second woman blinked. "But there are people next to me. I can't just move."

"You selfish bitch!" the first woman exclaimed.

As I left the train, I could hear the second woman muttering to the first, "You can't just call someone a bitch who you don't know..."


"Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll" by The Killers

This song is an old friend of mine. It's not my favorite song by The Killers, but for some reason whatever I'm writing seems to come out easier when I'm listening to "Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll".

Thursday, September 25, 2014

How Paper Beats Rock

I drew this garbage fest of a drawing a few days ago. I thought I should probably redraw it if I was going to even think of posting it on the blog. You can't even tell the rock is supposed to be crying; the tears just make him look like a pizza. He kind of looked like a pizza to begin with. Definitely never like a rock.

But despite its shittiness, this drawing still makes me laugh. So I thought I'd post it in case it might make you laugh, too.

A more substantial post will be coming at you next week. I know I've said that before, but I've actually already written it, so that shit is locked down. 

(And no, Sarah, it's not my writing process post.)

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Short Post and a Song #85: Dear Actresses of the World,

I'm very sorry that your industry is full of executives who routinely tell women in their thirties that they have too many wrinkles. But please, please don't get plastic surgery on your face. Your face is your job--you use it to convey emotions. And that doesn't work so well when certain parts of your face don't move. 

Don't sacrifice being good at what you do for bastards who have worked in Hollywood too long to even remember what real people look like.


"We Intertwined" by The Hush Sound

For reasons I can't quite articulate, I've been obsessed with this song for weeks. I couldn't even tell you how many times I've listened to it. 

The thing is, objectively, I don't like this song. The lead singer's voice is a little too whiny and Fall-Out-Boyian for me. And according to CapDan Crunch, the song has too much of a "me too" sound to it, like he's heard it somewhere before.

But I still can't help but adore this song's lyrics, drums, light beat (especially the part around 2:15 when the guitar just sneaks in with a sweet little solo). 

So which is it, Velocininjas? Is this song actually decent, or after two years of writing about music has my taste devolved back to falling in love with Panic at the Disco and All-American Rejects clones? 

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Short Post and a Song #84: Laziness at its finest.

Reservoir Dans and I have a deal set up for when we order food: Whoever pays doesn't have to get the delivery when it comes. 

We both consider dropping $50 on a delivery on par with walking twenty steps through our apartment to the door.


"Lyin' Eyes" by The Eagles

Last week I went to an Eagles concert in New Jersey. We were up in the nosebleeds, as per usual. However far away we were, it was pretty damn cool to see a band that was around in 1977 still rocking it out. 

I feature this particular tune because it was the first rhythm guitar I ever learned. Excited, I tried to show off my newly acquired musical genius to anyone who would listen. But no one can ever recognize rhythm guitar on its own, so they'd just squint their eyes and cock their heads to the side and eventually inquire hesitantly, "Sweet Home Alabama?"

Still a great song, though.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Short Post and a Song #83: Any day you don't get kicked in the face is a good day, I guess.

Yesterday a group of teenaged boys set up a boom box and started doing flips and aerials through the subway, climbing on the poles and spinning around. Afterward they solicited donations. The man across from me offered one boy a few dollars.

Boy: Hey thanks, man. Glad you enjoyed the show.

Man: I wasn't even paying attention. But you managed not to kick me in the face, and I respect that.


"14 Arms" by Crash Kings

Danceratops and I have a few disagreements about this song. I think the screaming is "fun" and "awesome" while he thinks the singer would "come a lot closer to hitting the notes if he actually sang them". I think the lyrics are "fun" and "awesome" while he doesn't think they "make any goddamned sense".

Let me know whose side you fall on, Velocininjas. I recommend you use the words "fun" and "awesome" in your comments because they just describe this song so well.