23Sep09 The Holiday Spirit

It is almost impossible not to get into the holiday spirit this time of year. As I walked through the campus this week the brisk air and the dusting of snow brought back the memories of Christmas past. For a few moments, in my half-buzzed state, I thought that I was Bill Murray and one of the three ghosts was about to pop out and bring me into my possible future obnoxious self. Of course after realizing the light was merely a reflection of a police siren I went back to my walk.

What is it about this time of year that makes everyone warm and fuzzy inside? Of course, at this point in life it signifies the end of another semester and the start of a short break before the next. But there are a few things that irk me enough to write an article about the stupid things that people do this time of year.

Women have called me many things, one does not include being chivalrous, but I most definitely take the time to hold the door open for the poor schlep behind me in the blistering cold. Unfortunately, it seems that this said individual wearing sorority letters was not taught the same manners as I. She neglected to hold the door open for me not once, not twice, but three times as I was walking into Laurel Hall. My only guess was that I wasn’t good looking enough and she hoped to help me by letting the door slam into my face.

A few years ago, maybe a decade, there were soccer moms killing each other in line at KB Toys for a Tickle-Me-Elmo doll. Does your kid really need this doll so much that you are willing to fight tooth and nail with another parent for it? This damn thing was made by kids in China or Taiwan working for a few cents per day. These poor little children were pricking their fingers sewing up the hole on your new daughter’s doll. Do you really want to blood of the innocent Chinese children, including a crazed parent, on your hands so that your daughter feels with the in crowd?

No matter how early you decide to get up there is always some asshole that decided to wake his children up at the crack of dawn to beat you to the roads. This prick resembles everything that is considered evil about holiday traffic. He is the guy that “forgets” to use the blinker when he is changing lanes on the highway, the same guy that double parks in the morning at Wawa when you are getting coffee, and often can be seen doing ninety-five on the Parkway in a minivan.
There is often an epic battle going on between myself and said individual. The man looks over at me when we are going through the tollbooth and locks his gaze onto me; I now have a target painted on my forehead. At this point I must now accept his challenge, as a man, in order to preserve the sanctity of my manhood. In my soul I know that it is going to be a longwinded battle of vehicular knowledge and my ability to be stealth in my speeding and lawbreaking practices. In the end, like Highlander, there can be only one.

Footnote: Please be sure to have a safe and happy holiday season. Be sure to allow sorority women through doors after you, avoid eye contact with men driving minivans and make sure that soccer mom doesn’t kill you for the next Tickle-Me-Elmo doll. You can heed my words as truth, fiction or somewhere in between; I’m a stubborn, obnoxious, humble, sometimes ignorant (and rarely arrogant) bastard, but I choose my words carefully. You should too, because sticks and stones might break bones, but as Imus can attest – words most definitely hurt you.

No Comments Posted by jb in Holidays
Tagged , , , ,
21Sep09 Leave Grandma Out of This

There are few things that are better in life than relaxing at home, drinking and watching the football game while gorging yourself on turkey and mashed potatoes. Then, as sure as the hands on a clock, that tryptophan invites his amino acid buddies in and the next think you know there serotonin is hookin’ on the corner double-fisting a beer and a bottle of Jack. Whilst this internal battle between amino acids waged on, your cousin tried to make brownies in an ez-bake oven and the dog is in the back yard chasing an alligator-rat.

You would be amazed the things that you miss when you are in a state of relaxation, but more so, the amazement comes when you realize that you held a full conversation with someone during that ordeal. There are some things that should not be said to family members, I firmly constitute full disclosure amongst immediate family, but your Grandmother doesn’t need to know about your sexual escapades with a girl that you thought was named Susan.

There is nearly an absolute certainty to Spring Break that often gets overlooked when people fly home, go on a road trip, or end up in Cancun. This concept, which has been celebrated publicly for over one hundred years, was originally intended as a religious day of worship, but now has involved into my favorite holiday of the year.

That’s right ladies and gentleman, the root of part of my heritage will be satisfied soon, because Saint Patrick’s Day is less than a week away. As soon as that little rodent came out of his hole at the beginning of February I could already smell the corned beef and cabbage on my plate. I will put the finishing touches on my party plans, head out to the local store to buy the survival supplies and, of course, green food coloring.

Before all of you immediately think that my only plan this weekend is to pour liquor down my throat with a plastic tube, well, I can tell you that its not my only plan! There, of course, are the unforgettable memories that are shared between friends on this great holiday that only comes once a year. You know, those pictures of you with your hand around your buddy and making an embarrassing face, or an obscene gesture.

But, how many days a year can you buy obscene amounts of alcohol, gather together with some of your best friends in the world, consume caloricaly, disgusting amounts of beef, and blame it all on the Roman Catholics? All the while, able to wear a green wig, hats, necklaces and clothing – and not looking like an absolute freak, or the jolly green giant?

That’s right, all of those great things mashed into one big happy bundle of joy. I could not ask for a better holiday, in fact, I would not want to ask for a better holiday!

Saint Patrick’s Day is one of those holidays that you should avoid the eldest members of your family at all costs. You don’t want to be sloppy drunk, wearing your birthday suit and holding a mug of beer in your hands. That’s just not good form my friends, please be sure to keep all of your clothes on, because these are not the types of stories that you want your parents to be telling your kids.

Remember, everyone is Irish on Saint Patrick’s Day!

Most people cherish the moments that they have with their family, and unfortunately, the majority of people that move on with their lives only see the family on the holidays. If you so happen to sticking around home during the holiday, make sure to spend some time with those that you do not get to see too often, and make sure that the next time that you decide to go over your portfolio of Kama Sutra with Grandma, make sure to leave out the nitty-gritty. She does not want to hear that your nickname is “John Wayne” in bed, and that the girl whose name you vaguely remember as Susan wore a pair of leather boots with spurs.

You wouldn’t want to receive a hand-knitted sweater with a picture of a leather saddle on it, would you? Didn’t think so. Keep the sexual innuendos away from Grandma.

No Comments Posted by jb in Holidays
Tagged , ,
21Sep09 Old Isn’t A Band-Aid For New

As I have gotten older and older there have been less and less on television that interests me to a point where I would call myself a “follower” of a particular television show. While watching some Saturday morning cartoons I ask myself: Were cartoons this horrible when I was watching them years ago? But after doing some quick mathematics (and remembering a little from economics) I am starting to believe that due to the fact there are more and more channels available the amount of quality programming goes down.

There has been a resurrection of television from when I was a kid. I am starting to see older movies on television more often, the Cartoon Network has been playing the older episodes of ‘Scooby Doo’ and it seems that every week on television ‘My Cousin Vinny’ can be found on one channel or another.

I have found my pleasure in ‘House’ on FOX, more recently ‘Reaper’ on the WB and the ‘Bionic Woman’ on NBC. There were gambles taken with ‘Firefly’ (that proved to only gain a second life after the series was canceled) and ‘Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles.’ But the television bigwigs are being way too cautious with programming and refusing to take gambles with new ideas.

Even the movie industry is falling back on old franchises to bring moviegoers back to the silver screen. Over the break ‘Alien vs. Predator’ hit the screens near Christmas, ‘Star Trek’ had a teaser trailer at the beginning of ‘Cloverfield’ and for the past six months Sly has been all over the screen with ‘Rambo.’

The executives of the major film companies would like to blame the fact movie sales have been at all time lows due to piracy, but the fact of the matter is that we don’t like purchasing a steaming pile of shit. Even if the odor has been disguised the fact still remains: the vast majority of movies lately have been crap.

Now, the fact has been obviously seen due to all of the re-makes, spin-offs and reruns we seen on television and in theaters. Unfortunately, the reason all comes down to the same thing regardless of which industry: money. It costs money to produce a new franchise that nine times out of ten wouldn’t yield the same result if they just slapped another ‘Star Trek’ movie together with a big name director attached.

I am tired of the same thing. Most of the innovation in the technology industry comes from start-ups, research universities or rogue elements of a bigger corporation. It all comes down to the little guy. When a single person has a great idea, the perseverance and rolls the dice: that’s when great things happen.

Hopefully a few good things come out of this Writer’s Guild strike. One thing I would like to see are more gambles being taken with relatively unknown writers. There are thousands of novels out there with great stories that when I finish reading them I think, “Damn this could totally be a great movie.”

So I hope that the industry will stop making a debauchery of my childhood. I am tired of seeing some half-assed adaptation of great movies (’Alien vs. Predator’ immediately comes to mind) and I am tired of seeing the same television on all three hundred unnecessary channels. We should all tell the entertainment industries to grow a pair and stop blaming their lack of creativity on us.

If you have an idea for a story, short-film or series don’t be afraid to tell other people. Get the word out and start filming some amateur footage. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to convince the idiots spending millions of dollars on liquid feces such as ‘Norbit.’

No Comments Posted by jb in Pennies for Thought
Tagged , ,
20Sep09 Performance Anxiety Might Make You Settle For A ‘C’

I usually make it a habit not to talk about classes that I am currently taking. It makes for some awkward situations. But there are times that I simply can’t resist (or, as it is with this case, have nothing else to write about).

The first day that I started a particular class this semester caused me to immediately become so enraged that I wanted to rush to the registrar and yell at someone. Some of the required curriculum at this university boggles my mind. What is the meaning of forcing a student, some of which are commuters with full time jobs, to perform community service in order to get a grade in class?

What really ticked me off was the fact that I am indeed paying for this community service through my tuition fees. The grade that I would be getting at the end of the semester would have something to do with how well I can write a paper based upon my experience slaving myself away for some non-profit organization.

What, you’re telling me I can’t just stand on the corner in Newark with a cardboard sign that says, “Will work IT for free (non-profits only, please)?”

But what originally got me thinking about this was if there was any benefit to the university for having its students perform community service on behalf of their class. Of course, there was an existing list of organizations needing free help.

I am going to be liberal with the mathematics here, but lets say that there are twenty students in the class. That means that each semester, for each enrolled student in this class full of twenty students, now has to perform community service.

I’m not quite sure how many sections are being taught this semester, but lets say that there are sixty students enrolled in three sections of this particular course. Each student must perform thirty hours of community service.

Okay, keep up.

That is twenty students, three sections, and thirty hours per student. That means this school, utilizing my quite liberal calculation, is squeezing eighteen hundred hours of community service per semester out of the student’s wallets. That’s a lot of free labor.

There are some people that might think that community service builds character. But shouldn’t that be my choice to give up my precious hours (that are far and few as it already is)?

While I am in college, slaving away with a paper and pencil at math and physics problems, I don’t expect my university to take advantage of me. That, of course, is reserved for my future employer that wishes me to on-call seven days a week twenty four hours a day.

So what’s next? Are we going to be required to perform a campus cleanup as part of our humanities curriculum?

Before the hate mail and phone calls from administrators start to file in I want to make it clear: I am not against community service. I am against this being in a required class. If this class was an elective, and it was upfront that I would need to perform said requirements, then I would absolutely have no complaint (I would just not take the course). But that’s not the case, is it?

If you are going to dangle the “A” above my head like I am dog at least let me choose a company that I am going to learn something at. I enjoy the challenge of something new. I would much rather have the option of working for a company for thirty hours where I would learn something other than how my existing skills that I learned outside of academia are being slaved out to an organization that should be putting money into the economy.

I am pretty sure how much I am worth, but because this school will be my future alma mater (someday, if I am finally able to pass that damn Calculus III class) I will charge the New Jersey minimum wage of $7.15 per hour. New Jersey Institute of Technology, you owe me $214.50, before state and federal taxes.

I’m sure the check will be in the mail.

No Comments Posted by jb in College
Tagged ,
19Sep09 Army of Crackheads

I began thinking the other day, “What would happen if the crackheads united and decided to declare war against all of us sober people?”

This got me into delving a little deeper than I wanted to think (I actually should have been concerned with the shower I was taking). How many people out there are crackheads in hiding? Just like alcoholism are there functional crackheads? We may be amongst crackheads and not even know it. Those people who come in every day that look like they went out a little late last night and drank a hundred dollars worth of alcohol; they may be a fucking crackhead.

This is all the more interesting because what if the crackheads decided to hold an uprising? The only line of defense we would have would be crack, because as everyone knows the only way to stop a crackhead is with an offering of crack. If the crackheads were to takeover we would all now need to either become a crackhead ourselves or be the mindless slave that harvests in the fields working the crack to the blessing of the supreme crackhead leader.

Get a dog. Because one thing that is certain is that dogs know where crackheads are. Just like they are able to sniff the ass of another pooch and notice if they had shat on my lawn, they immediately know who a crackhead is. Its like fried into their brain. Be nice to your pet, because when the crackheads decide to hold an uprising we’re going to need their expertise in the world of hunting out the crazies.

No Comments Posted by jb in Dreams and Thoughts
Tagged , , ,
19Sep09 Conversations Spark The Use of Computer Voodoo

Most of the inspiration I get in writing comes from my own experiences, something that a friend has told me, or some crazy dream that I had a few nights prior. I tend to add a little flair in order to make the story sound more vibrant than it really was. But sometimes reminiscing on something after-the-fact makes you feel like a complete fool. This is my life. I deal with it.

It is interesting how a conversation with a good friend can go from normal, to wacky and finally end with something so Alice-in-Wonderland that you have to look at the instant messenger window and say, “What?” You know, one of those conversations where the person on the other end just dropped a nugget on you the size of Texas, and then they immediately expect a credible, well-thought out answer.

The conversation in question that captivated me enough to write about started like any other would, and immediately segued into the topic of the Vagina Monologues (henceforth referred to as ‘the VM’). As I was nursing a hangover from earlier that morning, the topic of conversation quickly moved to what the festivities could be after the VM.

For me a performance of the VM would be enough to wear me out for the night and I could not even conceive a need for an after-party. But most of the time I am not one to turn down an invitation of any sorts, especially since its not often that you get a chance to go hang out with the cast performing the VM.

I have only been to a couple of cast after-parties before and none of which led me to a gentleman’s club where some of the women performing in the VM would spend their time (and hard earned money) watching other women take off their clothes. This was very intriguing to me. Personally, I don’t find those types of places entertaining, but I had to inquire further about the situation.

Having known the person for a long time, the fact that she enjoys going to these clubs doesn’t surprise me, she is just that type of person. I mean, it’s not like she went to the club and left with bite marks from one of the performers. Something like that is only reserved for the bold, but she is the type of girl who knows how to enjoy a night out on the town her way.

Now being even more interested than I had originally been, the hike up to Connecticut to witness the VM (and the subsequent after-party) began to sound more inviting. Not to mention the obvious perk of being able to scry into the eyes of two natural beasts having their way with each other at aforementioned gentleman’s club.

Now that might be worth the drive.

So the conversation moved away from that subject and on to something that was a little more personal. What exactly does it mean, in a dream, when a particular item that should be one thing, turns out to be another entirely?

The awkwardness continued with, for lack of a better term, the condom shoe (henceforth referred to as ‘the shoe’). This shoe was of interest to me, for I am the one who dropped this nugget on the table, but also because I had absolutely no idea what it meant. Again, as I said above, I tend to pull inspiration from all walks of life. But the shoe, a size ten ‘Nevado’ with a black sole and fuzzy tan, was a complete paradox.

Being a person that tends to over analyze my dreams I often question the motives of my subconscious. Why had a shoe, that was too small for my feet, appeared in my dreams in such an unorthodox manner? Furthermore, a few hours prior, I had just removed my pair of New Balance sneakers after putting good mileage on them. Why did my brain decide to discriminate against the pair of my trusty kicks?

My friend suggested that I should coddle my pair of Nevado shoes more often, for they could quite possibly bring me more luck. Unfortunately, I could not parallel the fate of Dorothy, as I had recently thrown that pair of shoes away.

After we decided to part our ways and end the line of communication on instant messenger, she vowed to stop using the voodoo doll that she had built of me for anything other than humane purposes. I thanked her and laughed at the same time. But I had to ask, “Did you actually make a voodoo doll of me?”

No Comments Posted by jb in Dreams and Thoughts
Tagged , ,
9Sep09 I Am Back

The inner writer inside of me has been dormant for many years now. While in college I wrote a couple of pieces that I would chuckle over, but nothing that will giving my ego something akin to a raging hard-on. I was a columnist for my university’s newspaper, eventually an executive editor without the title, and finally the poor schmuck that was responsible for the whole newspaper. I thought that I would enjoy running a newspaper, but to be fucking honest, there is very little about that year that I actually enjoyed. If being an Editor-in-Chief of a newspaper got me laid regularly I would probably be singing a different tune, but hey, that’s the kind of shit that happens when you run a newspaper at a technical school. For some reason engineers get all hot and bothered over physics, mathematics, and video games. Who would have thought?

After a couple of months of writing meaningless tidbits which were merely mindless thoughts in passing I decided to quit the shit – I want to be involved on a blog that people come to read because they are looking for an honest opinion. One of the things that I hated was censoring what I wanted to say because I was worried about the man coming down on top of me. Now that the pressure of that happening is gone I’m going to use this blog as my entry into exploring every single perverted thought that comes through my brain. That may include (but not limited to) sexual exploitations of children under the age of eighteen, my lingering hatred for people from what is generally referred to as the “bible belt,” the irritating experience of having to emotionally please a woman, and why clowns always have to be so fucking happy.

I am a depressed twenty-something writer living in the Greater New York Area, and I have one thing to say to you: I am back, and this time I am not going to need a bottle of booze, a paper bag and the bottle of viagra to fuck you.

No Comments Posted by jb in Pennies for Thought
Tagged ,
Pages (2): « Previous 1 2