The Leather Anniversary

Can you believe that it's been three years since my mom started reading this blog? Wow! Time flies when your writing puns. Traditionally, year three is the leather anniversary, although a more modern gift is crystal or glass. I'd definitely prefer a jacket over a ring. Or maybe a glass wallet? Nah, that's not so practical. Anyway, this blog has definitely grown over the past year, most notably into a full website. It has everything that you want, plus a lot of things you don't want. I added a Podcasts tab and added one episode of Mono A Monotone and two episodes of Story Time. I added a Videos tab and will be populating it more in the future. I added a tab called Tour Dates, which is TBA right now. Stay Tuned for that. The about the author tab is funny and informative. As it should be.

And like I say every year, this is mainly just practice for me to hone my craft. Not everything is funny; comedy is subjective. That being said, I'm hilarious and you are so lucky that you get to witness it each week. For free no less. I wish I was you (No I don't!).

Say, do you remember me telling you about the time that I made a pitch for a television sitcom to NBC? You don't? Well, I did, and sadly they have gone a different direction, citing things like "not funny" and "we can't pay you one million per episode." So, I will not be moving on in the competition. That's OK, because the show was based off of a book that I have not written yet. So guess what? I started to write that book and want to finish it by November 31st. Ambitious, I know, but doable. 

So that's where I'm at. Three years in and still trying new things. Because that's the secret to life. Try new things; don't let new things try you. (That's either rambling nonsense, or I'm a genius. I'm a genius. L'chaim!)

Shocktober

Can you believe that Halloween is actually on a Friday this year? It's shocking, not just because I'm dressing up as a thunderstorm by gluing cotton balls to myself and walking around with only a pair of socks on, but because it affords everyone ample time to party on Halloween. Parents are going to have to wait until really late for their kids to go to bed so they can go eat all of the candy. Personally, I wouldn't be caught dead Trick or Treating this year. (Wait, wouldn't I?) That's why I'll be inside, throwing the candy at each kid who comes to the door like it's their Bar (or Bat!) Mitzvah. That'll shock the parents and the kids. Also, Mischief Night on a Thursday just seems wrong, you know, like drinking beer through a straw. Mischief Night should be on a Sunday, or some holy day of the week. Wednesday sounds good. Nevertheless, enjoy Halloween this year. It'll be real spooky, I'm sure. Carve a pumpkin. Dress up like a slutty houseplant. Do whatever you want. You do you. 

It might seem like I was rambling this week, but i actually meant to write this. Now there's a real shocker!!

Prime time Blocktober

TV is back and it's better than ever. Just like the Hess truck at Christmas time. There is something good on every single night. And since I have no job, I have plenty of time to watch every show. And since I have no job, I have to watch them all before the cable shuts off. Listen, I'm not here to tell you which shows to watch; I'm just here to make sure you watch something. I don't want Nielsen to have to lie about their ratings again. #Selfie should not be the most watched show. It should be Red Band Society. I'm currently watching Gotham this Monday night, and I really like it. It's the before Batman story that nerds have only read about in the comics. So it's a good show. That's all I'm saying. You need to watch something and enjoy it. If that doesn't tickle you, why not watch The Big Bang Theory, which will be on for three more seasons. Or if a sitcom isn't your thing, why not watch political pundit John Oliver tear up the news like a dog being house trained? It's political comedy with a purpose. See, something for everyone. Let the binge viewing commence!

Soft Rocktober

Are you familiar with the radio program Delilah? For those of you who don't know, a radio program is something that your grandparents used to listen to when it got too dark to read. What Delilah does is she gives relationship advice to callers of all ages. Then, she attempts to match a soft rock tune to each person's problem. The advice is good if you don't think about it too hard. And the songs match perfectly if you look past the fact that every song on her predetermined list of songs is about love or relationships. She doesn't actually choose songs; they just all end up working. That becomes apparent at Christmas time. That's when it really becomes clear that she is just a middle-aged woman in a recording studio wearing headphones and drinking tea for a living. Because a 10 year old will call in and she'll answer compassionately:

"Hello. Who's this?"

"Hi Delilah. I'm Jessica."

"Hi, honey. What's your dilemma?" 

"Well, my best friend and I aren't talking anymore."

"You're not?"

"No, and I'm sad."

"Let me ask; Is it because of a boy?"

"Yes."

"Uh huh! Uh huh! I thought so."

"What do I do?"

"You need to go over to your friend and say, 'Hey best friend, no boy is stronger than what we have.' Ok?!"

"Ok, Delilah."

"Alright. I'll find a song for you..."

"Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Prospero Aсo y Felicidad..."

Knock Knocktober

Let me tell you a story. I was at home last week, catching up on every television program ever made, when suddenly I heard...

(knock) (knock) 

Startled, I asked "Who is it?" 

A very raspy, whispering voice replied, "Ya." 

Hmmm, Ya... Ya... I pondered, trying to see if I knew a Ya. I didn't, and asked "Ya who?"

"Google is better," it hissed slowly.

I opened the door, but no one was there. "Ya?" I asked, my word fading into the cold fall air. No response. I closed the door, and sat back down to a paused episode of Modern Family. I was about to press play, when again, I heard...

(knock) (knock)

"Who is it?" I screamed, sounding slightly terrified. 

"Doctor!"

The word rolled off its tongue like a cement brick. Now, I was afraid. I could probably use a doctor right now, I thought. But wait! My mind was racing like a banana wielding Donkey Kong. Which doctor? The family doctor? The heart doctor? The nose doctor? "Doctor who?" I questioned cautiously.

"The Time Lord," it hissed.

With that, I perked up. "Oh, I love the show. I'm a big fan." I swung the door open eagerly, with a pen and piece of paper, ready to get me an autograph. To no one's surprise, no one was there. "Show yourself!!" I screamed. The response was underwhelming. I closed the door, feeling like James Bond in a tornado: shaken and stirred.

I decided to leave for a while, to get away and hope my problem wouldn't follow me. So here I am, writing to let you know what's going on. I just hope that...

(knock) (knock)

"Who... who is it?"

"Boo." it hisses

"Boo who?"

"Don't cry, it's only a joke! Ha... ha.... ha..." Devilish laughter fades into the darkness. 

"Too late," I sob.

HAPPY OCTOBER!!

Hashing Things Out

After a long discussion with my family, I think we've all decided what we would like to do next; we are going to open a Mom and Pop Weed Shop, or a Mom and Pot Shop. We could call it "Pot and Things... OK Just Pot." There has been so much talk about the issue recently, and I think it's high time we opened one.

Once marijuana is legal for more people than just doctors and Doug Benson, we will be able to achieve our goal. You see, dealers wouldn't want to sell something that is legal, because stores could sell it cheaper. That's our plan, to corner the market on a street corner. Now, I'm no business man, but I do look good in a suit, and the plan sounds good to me. We might need to open a bunch of them because, unlike a Starbucks, you would need one on every corner since weed smokers would never remember where the last one that they went to was. It would also probably be good to turn it into a bed and breakfast, or more appropriately a bed and snack fest, you know, with couches to "crash on," complete with vacuums in between the cushions to suck up the Doritos crumbs. We'd call it the Hempton Inn. I'm picturing a fancy hookah bar, with exotic paraphernalia to smoke anything, anyway you want to.

This could be the next big cash cow, I mean hash cow. Picture this: Bob Marley on the radio, every Cheech and Chong movie on the TV, including Tin Cup and some photographs of Chong in prison. Everything would be weed themed, right down to the center pieces made of dandelions, ivy, and crab grass. Sounds great, right? Don't get too excited; we are just trying to hash out our ideas right now. The idea could literally go up in smoke. I don't mean to be so blunt, it's just that I don't know what the future holds yet. But if we can get this idea up and running, I might finally be able to get my money troubles out of my hair. That would be much better than my usual technique of waiting a month to get things out of my hair.

I'll let you know how it turns out, if I can remember to do so through the haze of life. If I don't, well, that stinks!

Networking is Not Working

This past week has been nothing but net... working. I've bumped elbows with the rich and famous, and then quickly apologized for bumping elbows with the rich and famous. Well, maybe it was just the rich. You see, I need a day job. Life costs money, and I need to be able to support myself for more than a couple of months. Just a day job, that's all I'm looking for. That way, when people tell me to not quit my day job, I'll have one to not quit. It all makes sense. And you would think that people who know people could connect me with the people that they know, but you would be as stupid as I am. 

I'm a believer (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaahhhh) in the saying it's not what you know, it's who you know (And it's not what you do, it's who you do...), but what do I know? I could be wrong. When I tell people that I want to be a civil engineer, they believe me because I'm a good liar. They also rack their brains and try to think of anyone that they know who might know civil engineers. I usually get a response similar to this: "You know, (takes a long puff on a cigar) my wife's friend's brother is a contractor. He might be good to talk to." Ok, sure, but does he have an open position I can fill? And also are they any jobs at his company? There comes a point when trying to network does not work. 

The only networking that I like is social networking. You know, Friendster, MySpace, that sort of thing. I don't much care for LinkedIn. It's like the job world right in your hand. Which doesn't make sense to me, because I've never been handed a job. Speaking of hands and jobs, if you know of a way to make money during the winter months, I'd love to hear it. I've considered stealing the presents that parents leave out for their children on Christmas, but it's kind of a niche market and one guy has it covered already. There's got to be a job out there that I can do. Maybe with comedy, writing, or civil engineering. I could be a touring conference entertainer, you know, and bridge the gap between the three. But who knows, maybe I'll wait for something a little more concrete. 

Survey Says...

I take surveys online for money (Hey, 47 cents is 47 cents.) Back in the day, say 2009, business was booming. I was on several different survey sites at the same time, really over exerting myself for a 25 dollar Amazon or GameStop gift card every few months. Those several sites were UTalkBack, Zoompanel, and MyView. Since then, UTalkBack has become E-Rewards, Zoompanel has gotten worse, MyView has disappeared completely, and I have joined a new site called InboxDollars. So, I'm still on three survey sites, but I've adjusted for the times. It's not glamorous. It's not lucrative. It's not quick and easy. But, I've been doing it for years, and I've saved on video games, Amazon products, and movie tickets for one. 

You may be wondering what all of these fascinating surveys are about? Well, fine reader, they range from grocery shopping to television programs to everything in between. They generally take about 20 minutes to complete, but can be done in 15 if you click the bubbles in a fun design without actually reading the questions (I usually do diagonal lines, like a zigzag). You have to answer age, ethnicity, zip code, state, household income, and gender at the beginning of each survey (and also the end for some strange reason). Some surveys involve video watching, but most are just tedious and annoying. 

Are you sold yet on joining a survey panel? Because if you are, I can get you a deal where when you sign up, I get a little kickback on the side. Spoiler alert; the deal is for me. But I would hold off on joining for a second, because sometimes the surveys are a little strange and a little too personal. 

One survey that I recently took started with following questions.

Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Hold up! What? When I read this, I literally sat up in my chair and screamed "I NEED AN ADULT!!" How can it ask me this? It got even weirder when the next page asked me to turn my head and cough.

My final response to the survey was "No. Why? Should I?" This was more awkward than the time that a survey straight up asked me if I was racist. Yes, one survey asked me how I felt about black people on a scale of 0 to 5. What? That's racist. (That's the last time that I fill out a survey for KlanPanel.com!) Listen, I'm no doctor, but I don't think any of these options are good. Lumps, bumps, bends, oh my! This is more of the type of stuff that I would discuss with my physician, not a survey on the computer. It turns out that I didn't qualify for the survey (I don't know anyone who would), so there's 50 cents that I won't be seeing. This isn't the first time that my lump less penis has cost me money, but that's a story for another week. 

Celebrity

Recently we've had two celebrity comedians leave us, both seemingly before their time. The ironic part is that whenever a celebrity dies, the discussion of death roars to life. News articles come out about how the person died and what we can do to become more aware of a way to prevent that from happening to someone else in the future, specifically like with Robin Williams' suicide or Joan Rivers heart attack during surgery. But we can't really prevent death; we can only postpone it, kind of like when Windows shuts down to install new updates. We know windows has to shut down, but can it be four hours from now? I'm watching a thing (porn).

Death and comedy go hand in hand. Read these phrases below.

"He killed tonight."   "OMG! He's so funny, I died."   "He slayed 'em."

See? People can't even talk about me without mentioning death in a figurative sense. But it's playful because it means something good. It would be bad if an audience actually died. So bad for business. And it's bad when a comedian dies. So bad for business. (My editor wrote that one.)

But why do we care so much if we really didn't know the person? That is the problem with the topic of celebrity. Celebrity causes us to think that we know people we don't actually know. That's how I'm friends with Jimmy Fallon, even though he only signed my book in passing, and has never acknowledged my presence in any way, despite numerous twitter attempts. (I'd gladly prefer a retweet over a restraining order any day.)

The cool thing is that we don't have to forget the celebrity that has died. I mean, my YouTube queue is full of Joan Rivers clips, and I will watch them as soon as I finish all of Robin Williams's clips. So you should do the same. Celebrate the life of the dead and be thankful that you have the ability to. Because life is kind of fragile and could end at any time. So seize the day. Live it up and have a good week.

Hyundai Monday

I don't mean to brag, but I'm in the market to buy a new car. Well, not so much me as my brother is in the market to buy a new car. I'm just along for the ride. (There's gonna be a lot of these, so buckle up.) Now, we share a car because we are twins and we do everything together. But that might end soon. Who knows how long we'll be twins? So, it only makes sense that he should buy a new car.

Hold up! Let me shift into reverse for a minute. (See what I mean?) Did I mention that the car that we used to share recently died? It did. I stopped at a red light and it didn't start again. It had had enough. After all, it was a 1995 Ford Escort. I don't want to say that the car was old, but it came with its own handicap parking pass. We learned to drive in it, and I even got it T-boned in an accident four years ago for good measure. All of this led up to last week when it just stopped working. Just stopped in the middle of the road. And we had just gotten it inspected. (Don't it always seem to go, That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone, They paved paradise and put up a parking lot (in the middle of a road with two lanes in each direction).) But I did get to finally fulfill my lifelong dream of pushing a car in neutral to the side of the road. I "ghosted" it, as the kids say. (Shhh, kids, or I will turn this car around!)

It might actually be a good time to buy a new car, as Labor Day and Back-to-School sales are going on, hopefully delivering us a price that doesn't go through the sunroof. We are looking for something a little more "modern." It might be good to have a car that goes from 0 to 60 in 6 seconds, as opposed to a car that goes from 0 to 60 in "when it gets there" or "if it feels like it." And it might be updated by 15 years or so, with a radio that has more capability than just being a radio (sometimes). I might actually be able to listen to a CD, rather than a cassette tape. (It's hard to find Ariana Grande and Iggy Azalea's "Fancy" on cassette, mostly because they stopped making cassettes before we got the car.) The new car's radio will be just as shareable as our other car's radio, and I think that our sharing approach works pretty well. When I drive, my brother is in charge of the radio, but when my brother drives, my brother is in charge of the radio. It's perfect because I love country music. (That was sarcasm, or as I like to call it, carcasm.)

I think it's finally time to get a new car. I knew this day would come. The last five years have been a blessing in disguise with our old car. You never forget your first "tricked-out whip," if I may be so bold as to use the kid's lingo again. (Shh, what did I just say?) So say goodbye to the '95 Ford Escort and hello to the '08 Hyundai Sonata. Solid white exterior, completely Armor All-ed interior. We greased their pockets, they greased our steering wheel. The new car is purchased and paid for with an easy to repay loan. Yay loans. Yay debt. Yay stress. But it will all work out in the end. Who knows where our lives will take us in the future? But I do know one thing; where we're going, we definitely do need roads.