Shred Til U R Ded

It doesn’t get easier.

I know that seems like a harsh perspective, but I think it’s the honest truth. The longer you live, the more you understand, the harder things become. 

I have said for a few years now that I wish I was dumb enough to be happy. I often wish I could be one of those simple people who find pure unadulterated joy in the mediocrity of things like a good lunch, or finding a quarter on the sidewalk. Instead I think I get caught up in the thinking that Calvin said best in Calvin and Hobbes: “Happiness isn’t good enough for me! I DEMAND EUPHORIA!” I no longer desire to participate in simple pleasures, I want to be spoon fed caviar in a distant land where the temperature is always 68 degrees and nothing unpleasant ever happens. But maybe that’s the root of a lot of my problems. I never want to ‘stop and smell the roses’ or ‘embrace the journey’ or some other bullshit poster some boomer has framed in their house. I want to get where I am going, and I would like to have been there yesterday. 

Maybe we should all Live, Laugh, & Love more often (I’ll see myself out) instead of thinking that we shouldn’t have to struggle or want. Maybe the only salve we have ever needed is in front of our eyes, but we are too busy squinting at the horizon to notice it. 

I have been trying to rewrite my mindset on a lot of these struggles I have been facing lately in terms of time I spend lifting at the gym. I have been doing competitive strongman lifting for almost a year now, and the biggest lesson I have learned, I started this blog post saying. It does not get easier. The stronger you become, the heavier the weight gets. I think that translates into life as well. If your goal is to continue to develop, get stronger, get better, then you have to keep adding weight to the goddamn bar. Otherwise you sputter, and ultimately backslide. And in my experience, it sucks. It would be nice to take one day and only have to pull 50% of your max for a few sets. And sometimes, you might have to. Rest is as important as work. Progress relies on both things, metaphorically and literally. However, if you want to get better, you’re going to have to keep moving heavy weight. The better you get, the heavier it gets. It’s a Ponzi scheme, and it’s true in all aspects of your life. When you became proficient at your job, did you get to just coast, or did they pile a heavier workload on you? Just think about it for a minute. There is no respite. I truly think that’s what separates everyone. Those who can continue to grow and do the hard shit, and the crybabies. So take a big belly breath, brace your core, and move the weight, bitch.

I don’t think that every day you’re going to show up in any aspect of your life- gym, job, parent, or otherwise, and be able perform at 100%. It’s unrealistic. I think that my point in saying all this is that, you just have to mentally prepare for the fact that growth is painful as hell. It is never going to be a joyride. So just accept that fact, and keep clenching your teeth and push the envelope. Take a mile for every fucking inch.

I think the reason this has all been on my mind lately is that the past 2 years have coupled loss, becoming a parent, starting a new career, moving states (twice), and in essence starting strongman for me. And I would be remiss if I told you anything other than the fact that it almost swept me out with the tide. It seems like every god damn day was harder than the one before it. I kept asking myself if there was ever going to be a solitary moment when I would come up for air. The answer is: nope. I had to teach myself how to adapt. The sooner I came to expect the nauseating exhaustion of it all, the better prepared for it I was. I don’t think that anyone could look at my frazzled ass and think “Now there is a well adjusted gentleman!” But the fact that I am still here, says more about me than anyone could ever know.

I don’t want this to come across as a way of telling you “Hooray for me! To hell with all of you!” By any means. I just wanted to put it out there that everyone is struggling in their own way. The fact that you guys decide to stick around for another day says more about your character than anything else. If you can hollow out some time to smile when your kid starts doing funny things, or take pride in even small accomplishments in your day to day (I flossed for the first time in 6 months!), then it makes your daily grind that much better. Don’t wallow in your despair for years like I did. Things certainly will not get easier, as I have said. But they will get better. Like in lifting, the weight keeps getting heavier, but you keep adapting to it. Your muscles get big huge, both mentally and physically. So stay the course. Become merciless. Crush your enemies (especially the ones in your head) by their throat. PR OR ER.

FEED THE DOG. BITE THE HAND.

MORE MONEY LESS PROBLEMS (I ASSUME)

I would like to be wealthy enough that I could go to a restaurant that I frequent enough where I would walk in and they would say: "Mr. Jake!" and then kiss me on both cheeks (face and butt) and then escort me to a table reserved for me alone. Do you think that this is millionaire status, or would we be facing like multimillionaire status? Either one is not realistic for me, but I would like to temper my expectation accordingly.

Does money buy happiness or not? I think that anyone who says that it doesn't has never been poor before. I think that only poor people should be allowed to make laws and decisions. Because they would have more compassion for how it affects others, rather than only how it affects themselves. At least, that's just my opinion. I have met very few poor people (outside of drug addicts) who aren't empathetic for others. They always tip well, they give their cash to people holding cardboard signs promoting lies about their veteran and/or family status, and so on. When you lament to a poor person about having trouble making ends meet or getting a medical bill dropped in your lap, they always have something comforting or nice to say, or a story of their own to share. If you say any of that shit to a rich person they immediately think you're trying to swindle some money out of them, or say some dumb shit like "you probably should've been smarter with your money. Have you tried making shoes out of duct tape? Have you tried not wasting your money on things like potable water? Irrigation water works fine, you just have to boil it. You are just a stupid dumb idiot poor person and it's your own fault that you don't have rich parents. Work harder, you absolute slob."

Maybe not those words exactly, but you get my drift. I don't hate rich people, I just think their outlook on life and how they treat others is questionable at best sometimes. Maybe there is a tipping point in life where you make enough money and then you don't have to care about anyone else. That might be a nice development. I would love to make enough money that I can turn into scrooge McDuck and can just go swimming in my big ass piles of gold coins and not give a mother fudge about anyone else. Can you imagine how much it would hurt to dive head first into a big ass pile of gold coins? Cartoons are always promoting lies/unrealistic expectations. Like: you'll survive an anvil being dropped on your head, adults are happy, you make a puff of dust behind you when you run really fast, Elmer Fudd is a coherent human and not a mentally disabled southerner, a mouse can set a trap and outwit a cat, skunks can find true love, classical music is good, and so on. This hasn't stopped me from trying all of these things, but so far my success level is fairly low. I identify as Wyle/E. Coyote; for the record. Always running off cliffs and holding up signs before I fall, and pretty much consistently failing at every task I attempt. So anyway, those are my pronouns. Please use them accordingly.

I have been working the graveyard shift at my new job and I spend a lot of time perusing the internet looking at things to buy. I tell you this because I think this is the reason I have been brooding over rich people. I am just jealous. Because if I had as much money as Bret Michaels, I would buy so much shit online. Not just different bandanas to cover up my baldness. I would own RC cars, a jetski, nunchucks, lots of shirts, my cabinet would be stocked with so much cereal, and if I'm being honest I would probably buy the craziest ass sex toy stuff I could find just to see the horrified look on my wife's face. Imagine me walking out of the closet wearing nothing but latex and false teeth, then imagine my wife falling off the bed clutching her chest; then tell me it wasn't worth the 5 gallon bucket of baby oil it took to squeeze my fat ass into that gimp suit.

I guess to round this all out, the point I want to make is that there isn't a poor person on earth who hasn't spent lottery money in their own mind. Also, there isn't a rich person alive who hasn't lived that sorry persons fantasy on a daily basis. Tip well. Be nice to those you consider 'the help'. Who gives a shit if someone is working at McDonald's? At least they're trying. We are all trying to realize our own 'American Dream', and so far I have found that you usually have to be asleep to believe it. But that shouldn't stop anyone from trying, and it shouldn't give you the right to criticize others for doing jobs you feel too qualified to do.

I should end this on a higher note so you don't walk away feeling like you need a cigarette...

Here are some thoughts of what you can do if you win the lottery:

-Visit Disneyland for one day and you'll have $30 left over

-Buy the most expensive car you can think of right off the show room floor, and drive it through the front window

-Buy the Grave Digger monster truck and smash your high school

-Fill a super soaker with piss and get revenge on birds (I guess you don't need a ton of money for this, but the potential for friendly fire is pretty high, and you could face a law suit for by-proxy pissing on someone)

-Visit Guy Fieri's house and kiss him on the lips

-Visit Tom Brady's house and sneak into his sons bed so he kisses you on the lips

-Buy a nice house somewhere

-Take a vacation in Nebraska

-Fill your grandma's medication for her

-Buy a strip mall

-Franchise a Chick Fil A and go in on a Sunday to see if God is eating there and that's why they are closed on Sundays

-If God is at your Chick Fil A bribe him into making the world a better place

-Also give God my phone number so I can ask him a couple questions

-Actually just send God to my house, I wanna talk in person

-Buy your groceries at Whole Foods

-Buy me a gimp suit so we can see what my wife's reaction is

-Take a cruise 

-Buy a sailboat and get stranded on an island and learn survival skills

-Buy a PS5 off the black market

-Ride a Greyhound bus and see where you wind up (Maybe you'll get lucky and wind up in beautiful Nebraska and get a twofer)

-Buy turtles and hire a scientist to see if he can genetically mutate them into the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and then subsequently turn you into Splinter 

-Pay for my lawyers to sue State Farm for their insufferable Jake From State Farm bullshit

-Pay Liberty Mutual to stop airing the worst commercials I have ever seen

-Make N*SYNC do a reunion tour

These are just some off the top of my head, feel free to reach out if you find yourself flush with cash and I will give you other great ideas. Please do not visit Nebraska. It's the worst state we own.

I will catch all you money (aka hoe) bags on the flip flop.

Please Sign Your Name On Hell's Guest Registry

Sure, I have written about heaven and hell fairly recently. But I don't care. You're not the boss of me.

I have been thinking a lot about the devil. Not in a perverted way, necessarily, just pondering his existence. Do you think the devil is fork tongued and carries a pitchfork like he is normally portrayed? Or maybe he is some serpent that slithers throughout the earth and bites people on the ankle, injecting the venom of bad thoughts like: "yellow lights mean go as fast as you can" or "take 2 fortune cookies even though it says to only take one." ? Or maybe he just looks like any other white person (I guess in my mind a white person is the most viable to be the devil, but I guess he could be Asian. or Russian.) and he wanders around creating chaos, and slips into the shadows undetected like Bigfoot or some other fairytale hoax like a narwhal. 

I hope I don't ever have to find out what the devil looks like unless I am mooning him from on high, but when I tally up my life points of good deeds versus evil, my accountant suggests it more likely I will be meeting the devil than God. So maybe that's why I have been thinking about the devil and hell more often, because I am pondering my future there. I hope that there is a system where you could move up the ranks and get into heaven, or at least eventually become an assistant torturer. 

But therein lies the biggest question of all; what is hell like? Is it rivers of poop that flow freely from the mouth of a giant poop waterfall, and there is nothing to eat but stale bread, and all you can smell is poop? So it kind of tastes like eating poop. And anywhere you look there is just pigeons. Everywhere you cast your eyes, there are rats of the skies eating the bread you don't get to first. Do you have a cell there, or can you wander aimlessly through the corridors without purpose, sitting idly by the river of excrement, passing your time in hell?

I would like to imagine that hell is some kind of holding place where I could go, pay off my debts as a sentence in hell for a period of time, then move on to the great beyond where I work at a celestial McDonalds, trying to move up the chain and buy a bigger mansion in a better part of heaven.

Here is what I would suggest that hell should be like, it could be like the American "justice" system where people die, get sentenced, and have the opportunity to move up to a level of hell from the one they are currently on. Similar to Dante's Inferno, there would be levels of lower hell for the more heinous crimes, but the upper levels would offer mild torture, then after a time and, coupled with good behavior, you can get into heaven and do arduous labor for people who were worthy.

The upper levels of hell would be for people who jay walked, skipped class, gave a titty twister to an unexpectant victim, and lied to their mother. This level would basically be spending time in a cell where they served you plain rice cakes and irrigation water for every meal, and you could earn rights to read books like Who Moved My Cheese?, anything by Dave Ramses, or some other dry self-help book, and the especially well behaved could watch 1 episode of Murder, She Wrote on Fridays. You have a toilet but can only flush it once every 3 days. People here would typically only spend 20-50 years time and could move on. 

The middle levels of hell would be for more serious crimes, or sins, if you will. People here might be the ones who leave shopping carts in the middle of the parking lots rather than putting them in the corrals, trampled someone at a Black Friday deal, drew phallic images in their school-owned text books, got several piercings, dyed their hair an unnatural color, watched HBO after midnight when their parents were asleep, went to Burger King on a Sunday, wore a shirt that revealed their midriff in public, called someone a dumbass or dipshit, purchased thong underwear, has worn a toe ring, or read the 50 Shades Of Grey series. (This list is not exhaustive, just examples of crimes in the afterlife)

This level of hell would be slightly more severe. The temperature would always be either too hot or too cold. And you could never manage to get your pants off when it's too hot, or find a jacket when it's too cold. Typically you would be all alone, and wandering some kind of wilderness. You would be thirsty but all that would be available to quench your thirst would be flat 7-Up or Diet Pepsi. When you are hungry all you can find is Boston Baked Beans candy, and someone's leftover plate from thanksgiving, being mostly gravy and fragments of mashed potatoes and turkey that is dry. Occasionally someone will come along and their sole purpose is to hurt you, so that would depend on what kind of person you are. If you are the type of person who liked getting spanked, obviously they wouldn't hit you, they would probably compliment you and make excessive eye contact. I will likely be in this level of hell, so as an example for me, they would send a new person every time and the person would want to make small talk and invite me over for dinner, where they would ask me about my work and hobbies (Of which I have none). Maybe you can work up from this level of hell after wandering for so long, but unlike the first level there isn't a prison system to determine your good or bad behavior. So maybe it's time contingent, and after so long you get sent to the upper level where you could make license plates and move into heaven.

The lower level of hell would be for very serious crimes and sins. Examples: Fornicators, thieves, politicians, people who leave babies in hot cars, auto mechanics (see also: thieves), people who honk immediately when the light turns green, DJ's, murderers, rapists, Keith Urban, anyone who held a Playboy subscription, the person who wrote the 50 Shades Of Grey series, Charles Manson, people with nipple piercings, most newscasters, belly dancers, people who wear cowboy hats in public, Anne Hathaway, the creators of candy corn, people who posed nude for an artist, grifters, anyone who exploited poor people, most, if not all, landlords, the inventors of screamo music, people who have watched Friends, Hitler, the inventor of the bikini, masturbators, drug users, most people who own motorcycles, vegans, Stalin, members of Florida Georgia Line and their fans, people who follow very closely on the freeway, and Miley Cyrus.

This last level of hell would be the full blown torture stage. Women would have to experience blue balls. Men would have to give birth. A steam roller would run over penises. You would be forced to listen to Luke Bryan play for 80 straight hours. You could eat, but all the food is on the floor and most people aren't wearing shoes and walking all over it. Occasionally you could find one of those stale tins of popcorn from Christmas 1995, but all that is left is the cheese popcorn with a little mold on it. Vegans would cry about not being able to eat anything at all. There is always someone with a cowboy hat nearby asking who you voted for, and saying he doesn't want taxes to go up. There is a girl crying constantly. You are allowed to drink but all that is available is peppermint schnapps, skunked Bud Light, and hot water that they filtered from the poop river. You always have an itch on your back that you can't reach. When you lay down to sleep you wake up suddenly thinking you're late for school, even though you are dead. You always have the sensation to pee. Your clothes smell like cigarettes. Your back hurts always. You have to go to the dentist every single day and he gives you a root canal. The floor is made of loose Legos. You cannot work your way out of this level of hell. They have determined you are too bad to move up. 

I don't really think any of this is true, I am just hopeful that it is, as I am likely on a fast track to the underworld. If this does turn out to be true and I have discovered the blue print for the afterlife, mention this blog and I can get you 10% off your mandatory sentence in hell.

I think the best we can hope for is a little grace, because we all kind of suck in our own way. You just have to do your best along the way. Maybe we will all end up in hell. Maybe we will all end up in heaven. Or maybe all of you will end up in hell and I will end up in heaven. Or vice versa.

DIEting

Do you think that God invented food, or the devil? Let's just say for argument's sake that it was God. My follow up question would be this: Does God have a twisted sense of humor? I just can't understand why he would make everything that tastes good, lovely, praiseworthy, or of good report be so bad for you. And everything that tastes like dirt, dog shit, and water be so good for you. 

Maybe he enjoys seeing us all suffer? Or have you ever wondered if God is fat and he wants you to be more like Him? The 600 lb people are closest to God? So in this scenario, skinny people would be like the devil. I enjoy, very much, painting skinny people out to be the bad guys for once. I mean, to be fair, every artist depiction of the devil I have seen, he is usually skinny or has a six pack. Can't think of any time I have seen the devil portrayed as fat. Food for thought. But the other side of that is that fat people die fast and have a lot of health problems. Every medical diagnosis I have ever received they have directly correlated with me being 'morbidly obese'. Which I am pretty sure is the highest level of obese. So at least I am in first at something. Sick burn by doctors though, they're just like "you're not just fat, you are going to DIE because you're so fat. You are morbidly obese bro. Do you want to pick out which piano box you'd like to be buried in tomorrow? You fat loser?"

Have you ever just thought passingly about food and it arouses a feeling in you? That sounds oddly sexual, but it's something I am working through right now. I have been doing a diet for a total of 4 days and just the thought of certain foods evokes a reaction in me that I can't explain. I sometimes think about Raising Cane's, In-N-Out, and Astro Burger the way mothers think of their sons who never returned from the war. Just longingly gazing at pictures of their food for an ineffable amount of time, while tears gently roll down my cheeks, and I help myself to a tall glass of water to curb the appetite, like the dumb ass I am.

I have tried to come up with goals ever since I got my A&P licensing in July, and needed something else to work on. So I have been trying to exercise and lose weight. It's been going well, except I have this problem where, now that I lift weights 4 times a week, I justify eating whatever I want. Cake for breakfast? I'll burn it off at the gym later. 64 oz soda? Gym later baby. So I have been stagnant, for the most part. But I have been doing well otherwise.

I have always been a big proponent of the idea that "fad diets don't work" and in a lot of ways, I think thats true. Most diets aren't that sustainable unless you're Oprah and have the funding to be able to do Weight Watchers for the rest of your life. Most people I know don't have that. Most people say: "you just need to change some eating habits" and I hear that, but when you're someone like me, changing my eating habits would take an act of congress, God, or the British Parliament. You can't just tell me to "Stop eating when I am full" the same way you can't tell a dog to look up. There are some things that aren't possible. Whether in this life or the life to come. So please stop saying that to me, it's hurting my big fat feelings. So yeah, I am trying a fad diet. And it's going okay. I stuffed a donut down my pants just to try and curb the desire to stuff it entirely into my mouth like an anaconda, but otherwise it's been fine.

So yeah, I guess I am an emotional eater. Everybody has problems. Some people don't eat because of their feelings and that's something I don't understand even a little. But that's okay. We all just have to suffer through this thing together. You don't have to understand things to support people who are trying to change and be better, or not. Even if someone is just trying to survive, you can be nice to them. I'm not sure what that has to do with food, but it felt like a bridge.

So good luck to everyone who is trying to make changes, whether it be for the new year or not. I wish you the best of luck. If you see me and I act like a caged animal, it's just because I am hungry. Which could also double as the title of my memoir. Just pound on the glass and keep moving.

The Shame Of It All

Do you ever remember when you were younger people telling you: "There are 2 things you should never talk about (to coworkers, I think), religion and politics."? Or was that just something I dreamt or imagined? I have tried very fervently to maintain this status quo throughout my life, and it has proved to serve me quite well. I desperately try to NOT discuss those 2 topics with not only coworkers, but also friends, strangers, people standing outside the grocery store, homeless people, cashiers, ugly people, handsome people, the guy who works at the root beer store (It's a real store in Lynnwood Washington look it up) my parents, my siblings, really anyone who has ears and eyes. I don't want to talk about it regardless of situation, it seems impolite. 

I know many of you may be sitting back in your chair, stifling laughter saying: "OH! The fat man is going to give US a lesson on being polite!" And I don't disagree with you. I am far from an expert on this topic, or any topic really. But this is just an observation from somebody who really despises talking to people.

I don't think I have ever witnessed anything that has divided people more in my life than this prior election has; and my wife is a Red Sox fan. I can't even say the words Alex Rodriguez in my house without a visceral reaction; or the words Big Papi without causing an eye to get misty. But, that's a topic for a different day.

Maybe I am wrong, I am only 29, so I am about halfway done with my life. Maybe things were always this contentious. Maybe everyone always hated each other, but they didn't have Facebook or Twitter to just violently retch their opinions to the public via. Which is a viable answer. But I always felt like there was a common thread among the American people that brought us together instead of turned us against each other. 

My guess is that we no longer have to beat Russia in a race to the moon, or to beat Russia in a hockey game, or to beat Russia in a boxing match after Ivan Drago kills Apollo Creed. Mainly we don't have Russia to root against anymore. Is that the problem? Do we need another Russian enemy? Will that save us from ourselves?

It seems that it's all anyone can talk about anymore, either barfing their political opinions or talking about religion. It has come to the point where people are threatening to dismember or steal property from someone if they fly a political flag that they don't agree with. I have one question for anyone who is sharing things on facebook that are violent towards their political opponent: Have you lost your damn mind?

I have always stayed pretty neutral politically because, to me, it's always felt like: "Would you like to vote for Senator Palpetine, or Darth Vader?" I mean, both parties are kind of dog shit. There isn't a single one who doesn't present their own set of problems and harbor a party of political corruption and filth. We have certainly painted ourselves into a corner. And that is just my personal opinion, your honor.

When I pause to think about it, and look at all the knee jerk reactions that people are posting in response to the election, it shouldn't surprise me. You get people who are horrible to each other, you certainly breed leaders who are horrible to each other. "Garbage in, garbage out" -George Carlin

I guess my solution isn't the typical Bill And Ted's "Be excellent to each other!" although I think that is good advice, I think we are a little beyond that. I don't know what the solution is. I doubt anyone does. I seriously wonder what it would take to make us all realize that we are all on the same ship. It's neither red nor blue. It isn't us versus them. It is literally just us. And if we make moves that causes "their" boat to take on water, we are all going to drown. Not just who you hope does.

I hope people who are stirred up to hatred toward someone based on their political opinions one day realizes they're being insane. Maybe your mom needs to drag you by your ear to your room. Or you need to be grounded from the world wide web. Or maybe you just need a hobby. I think political activism is fine, but, just like anything, if it consumes you you should probably stop. And if you are threatening people with MAGA hats or Biden stickers, it is too late.

Speaking to people not giving a shit about each other, there have been plenty of people show their colors amid this pandemic. I am not here to tell you one way is correct and the other isn't. But if this virus made your dick fall off if you were between the ages of 19-60, you would definitely not be acting the way you do. But because it only kills sick people and old people, who cares, right? And we don't know if it's real or not! Doctors are saying it is, but someone on youtube said otherwise and I don't know who to believe. They're both pretty credible sources. Plus, doctors have been telling me for years that I am overweight when I am clearly not, so reason suggests that they are lying, and they all made a pact to lie to all of us. But especially me. I am not overweight my bones are just super heavy.

I am under no illusion that this blog who reaches an entire 40 people is going to change the world. I just don't think I can stomach you twits continuing to be horrible to each other without saying something.

I would like the internet to go back to when we watched videos of that English kid getting his finger bitten or people falling down. I liked when the internet was fun. Now it's just a place for us all to whine to each other and tell each other to shut up. So here's my advice: listen to ME whine and you shut up.

I guess my closing thought/question is this: What kind of world are you/we wanting to leave behind? Do you want to make it a better place, or do you want to wipe your ass with it and pass it on to your/our kids and make them deal with the smell? Because we can't fix anything if we are fighting each other.

In the words of Rick from Rick and Morty, "Your boos mean nothing, I have seen what makes you cheer."

Listen to Spooky Book Report if you haven't yet. It's my podcast and it's where all my creative efforts have been going into. We swear a lot and a lot of people have either complained vocally or subtly jabbed and to them I say: You don't have to listen to it. It's MY podcast. Get your own where you don't swear if you're so concerned about it. Here's a link: https://anchor.fm/spooky-book-report

Snooze Buttons (Activate Instant Death)

I saw a dead crow in the parking lot when I was walking into my apartment, just now. It has been raining all day out there too, so it's probably pretty soft if some animal or person were wanting a free meal. The bird was also smashed, like someone ran it over with their car after it died and all it's entrails were coming out of it's ass. Wait, do birds have asses? I mean I guess they would have to in order to be able to shit all over everything like they do... I guess I never really thought about birds asses before.

I don't normally revel in death.... well..... usually not. Sometimes I think people meet their just end, sure. But I don't really celebrate it. That's a little too emo for even me. And my mom made me buy white and grey shirts in high school because she said I 'wear too much black' and she was worried I was super emo. Now look at me, almost thirty and I wear nothing but black and there's nothing she can do to stop me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am emo now and nobody can tell me not to do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I haven't ever really been happy something or someone died until I saw that bird gored to death out in the parking lot. I even kicked its intestines around just to make sure it was a real dead bird. You know, instead of a fake one.

So we live on the top floor of an apartment building. Not like, the nice kind where you have a view, it's just what was offered to us, so now I have to hike my lard ass up the stairs just to sit and/or lie down in my own house. It's bullshit, right? Even bringing home candy and soda to indulge in, I still have to carry it upstairs. Suffering from success.

Anyway, so we live on the top floor so there has been a particularly pestering crow that must have had a nest somewhere on the roof. Because the God forsaken bird would never shut up. And we could always hear it, even with the windows closed. However in the spring, summer and fall (And winter. Idk she is weird) my wife likes to sleep with the window open. And literally every morning between 5 and 6 that damn bird would start cawing. For like an hour. I have to be to work at 5:30 every day, so I am usually somewhat lucid by the time he would start yakking, but my wife likes to sleep in until 8 or 9. So naturally this bird became a pestilence. Every morning she would sigh heavily and slam the window shut and try (unsuccessfully) to go back to sleep. But she couldn't ever go back to sleep. It was kind of like the Edgar Allan Poe raven, but worse because he couldn't talk he could just shriek in a language unknown. What a dickhead, right?

I am not accusing my wife of murdering this bird, because I genuinely don't think she is capable of murder, but I would like to imagine it so. I also cannot be exactly sure that the morbid pile of a carcass out in the parking lot is the same bird that woke my wife up every day this past summer. Maybe he is still at large. Eating people's steak and ruining their lives in another, sunnier part of the world. I don't know crows migration patterns. However I do like to imagine my wife in camouflage with a huge blunderbuss and binoculars scoping out the roof of our apartment. Then, upon positively identifying the culprit, she blasts it to smithereens. She follows this up by running it over with her car and making sure he is, in fact, 100% dead. She then celebrates by smoking a large cigar and drinking a Perrier.

So, I hope that that is the bitter end for my wife's unasked-for alarm clock. Time will tell. In the meantime, there is a lady in our apartment who, literally every Saturday morning takes her children out into the parking lot and screams them into their carseats. Fortunately though, the kids yell back at her. So there is just a shouting match every Saturday morning at 7 AM out in our parking lot. I have considering shouting at them and telling them to shut the hell up, but I doubt they could hear me over the metal grinding loudness of their Saturday morning routine.

I am not suggesting that I hope this woman and her train horns for children get killed and run over in the parking lot... But that would be poetic justice. However that would make for an eerie streak of events that happened to people and birds that wake my wife up consistently. I should tread lightly. I have woken her up by farting too loudly more than once. If you find me in our parking lot ran over and all my guts are smushing out of my ass, you'll know I farted too early, and loudly, one too many times. But I died doing what I loved.

Take It From Me, I Am A Doctor.

Have you ever seen someone blow their nose into a plastic sandwich bag while you were trying to eat your lunch? Because I have. The problem isn't really that it happened, as much as it is that I haven't been able to stop reliving it. I think this is what they refer to in the medical world as 'emotional trauma'. Don't worry, I never got medically diagnosed for that. That is just what I, Dr. Mantis Toboggan, diagnosed myself with.

Isn't that such a strange thing? That people can literally read about shit online and diagnose themselves with problems? Some dumb ass website designer makes this thing that says "That this quiz to find out if you are bipolar!" and then this 40 year old lady does, it 'passes' the test, then just ASSUMES she has a chronic and debilitating mental illness. We went from 'Take this test to find out which Disney character you are!' alllllllllll the way to 'Take this test to find out if you have AIDS!' I hate to say this, but you should really be seeing a doctor, and not the Internet to get diagnosed with problems. The reason I hate to say that is because I straight up hate going to the doctor. Doctors are essentially people who can get away with insulting people, in the name of health. Every time I see a doctor, doesn't matter which one, they all say the same thing. "You probably don't feel very good because you are fat as SHIT!" And then the nurse comes in and high fives them.

I might have been exaggerating that last bit, but you will never know because I am protected under HIPAA law, bitch. Call the cops.

My biggest complaint amongst all of the Internet cures, diagnoses, and so forth is that people will go on generally believing whatever they read on the Internet, and then question what a licensed medical professional tells them. And just continue to believe whatever they want. I suppose that is their right, but hot damn.

I have found that this is particularly true amongst the tangled web of mental health/illnesses. People will read about someone who has actual diagnosed anxiety and/or depression disorder and will be like: "Dang. sometimes, I get nervous... I also sometimes get sad... I must have anxiety and depression, too!" And then will just believe that. Some side effects that they absolutely made up, and will believe that they have those problems. To me, this is criminally idiotic. That is like saying that your ass gets itchy sometimes, so you must have hemorrhoids. If you have ever met someone who truly has diagnosed anxiety or depression, you would not assume that you have those disorders because sometimes you like to stay in bed, or you get nervous before you go take a test. You would also not wish those disorders upon yourself.

I find humor in everything. The reason I write this is because I hope to make someone out there laugh, or at least smile. We are facing a harder and harder time, and mental health is something that we have to start taking seriously. We no longer live in 1920 where you can just go to work all day while you simultaneously smoke cigarettes and then come home and drink yourself into a stupor to forget all your problems. (Sounds nice though, if I am being honest) So take good care and watch out for those that you love, stab all the ones that you don't.

Don't Hunt This Mind, Dumbass

My wife has been watching this show on Netflix called Mindhunter. She was watching it when it first came out, and I remember being held against my will and forced to watch a few episodes with her at that time. I put a stop to it when, later that evening, after watching a television show that asks the question: "What were they thinking about when they murdered a shit load of people?" I left my house at night to go and get something from the store and saw someone on the road holding an axe. This would be commonplace if I lived in the woods and we all still used fireplaces to heat our homes, but I lived in an apartment near an airport. So needless to say, I stopped watching Mindhunter.

I got roped into it again the other day. Fortunately she has enough days off and gets bored enough, that she has watched the entire second season while I have been working. So I don't have to get spooked again and run from my car to my house while wearing slippers and basketball shorts.

My wife likes that show because she is always trying to stand in someone else's shoes. Always asking the 'why?' question. So Mindhunter is a show that is right up her alley, because it's literally trying to understand why serial killers did what they did. 

You see, this is a question that I have never, and will never ask. I don't really want to know what Ted Bundy was thinking when he lopped some poor girls head off with a hacksaw. I don't know why I would ever need to know that information. I'm satisfied with the answer: "That guy? Oh he's absolutely crackers. Steer clear of that guy, because he LITERALLY murders people." I just can't understand why I should pause to think "Okay, yeah he took someone else's life but, like......... Why?" There are certain things in life that I simply do not need to know. Something else I don't really need to know is: who's idea was it to have chamber pots? Who on God's green earth was like "I want to shit in my room and leave it there til morning"? Just another thing that sure, I could probably google and find out, but I am content with not knowing.

Maybe it's because I lack empathy. I have never really cared to know what someone was thinking or feeling when they made a decision. Because to me, if you have already made a decision, for better or worse, it doesn't really matter what you were thinking or feeling because now you/we have to deal with the consequences.

The real reason, I think, I never want to know what someone is thinking, is because I pray to God daily and nightly that nobody ever has to know what I'm thinking. While sure, most of the time it's the toy monkey clashing the cymbals together that's going on in my head; which is better known as nothing. I am thinking nothing. I am feeling nothing. I am breathing perfectly good air that someone else could be using to nurture their brain that propels them to cure cancer, or invent something that eliminates big oil companies and drives billionaires into the grave for good. And I am sitting around wondering what flavor Blue Raspberry is in real life. Often I will catch myself thinking something so profoundly stupid that I should write it down in a book to remind myself of what a fraud I am whenever I get haughty. I never do that because if someone ever found a little black book in the top of my toolbox that said things like "What if a toilet could weigh your shit?" or "What if they had a candle that smelled like a fart when you lit it and you could prank your family and friends?" and all other forms of bathroom/penis related humor, I would likely get arrested.

Here is a list of other idiotic thoughts that I have had that should be in the aforementioned book, but I am sharing with you:

What is the purpose of a goatee other than looking like an asshole?

Who were the first people to give and receive a titty twister, and what chain of events led them to that juncture?

How many asses has my ass touched by proxy of toilet seat?

Do you think if you put someone else's tooth in your mouth, it would taste different than your teeth?

What's the purpose of letting famous people into establishments for free? They have more money than everybody else, they should pay more.

Why do things that make you fat taste so astronomically, insanely, prodigiously much better than things that make you skinny?

Did the person who invented skim milk's mom not love him very much?

Do you think the first person who ever farted thought it was hilarious, or was that humor developed over time?

Who ever thought of eating cheese? Like just one day you're like "Boy this spoiled milk is uhhhhhh delicious."

If I made as much money as Bill Gates, I would probably end up weighing 900 lbs and they would have to hoist me out of my billion dollar house with a crane and bury me in a burial plot the size of a football field. Because all I would do is fly around the world and eat.

Someone is the fattest person alive right now and they might night even know it. They think they're just some regular fat ass, when in reality, they are THE fat ass.

Someone is also the dumbest person alive, and they definitely don't know it, but everyone they associate with does.

People who are adamant that pineapple doesn't belong on pizza need a new hobby.

They should stop arguing about whether being male or female is harder and just agree that being alive is hard.

Life is so good right now that we are making up problems for ourselves because we are bored. 300 years ago there was no such job description as a 'fantasy football analyst' or 'professional video game streamer'. They were all just farmers or hunters because they were trying to not die. And now we live in the most amazing time in human history and all we do is stand around and bitch at each other because someone believes that you shouldn't be allowed to buy a bazooka at Walmart and the other person believes that doctors shouldn't be available to help EVERYONE, just rich people. I don't really have a way to wrap up that thought, it's just something that I was thinking about. That we live in this amazing time and we all hate each other and want to kill each other and steal all their money and eat all their steak.

I hope that this clears up any questions you may have had for me about the hit Netflix series Mindhunter. See you next time. (In hell)

Diet Soda Is A Cult

I have been officially brain washed. While I am aware that this is not a cognizant thought that someone who has truly been brain washed typically has, I can assure you that I have without question been brain washed.

Have you ever had skim milk? It sucks total and complete ass. I have never been quiet about my disdain for skim milk, nor will I ever be. Skim milk is the mediocre sitcom of beverages. You don't actively search it out, you just drink it/watch it because it doesn't make you feel better or worse. It just lets you sink into nothingness. Unless you are me. Skim milk inspires hatred and anger. I think people who tell themselves they like skim milk probably also tell themselves that they like kale and mushrooms. Most of the people who drink skim milk are people who grew up with it. Which means that their parents might not have loved them very much. I feel sorry for them having such a rough upbringing, to be totally honest. I would imagine that they never had any good cereal to at least sweeten up the skim bullshit, they probably just had raisin bran and tears. Ron Swanson has summed up skim milk in the best possible way. Said he: "There is only one thing I hate more than lying; skim milk. Which is water that is lying about being milk." I will never drink skim milk, and I will die on that hill.

Did I get off on the wrong foot? Am I ranting about skim milk's inferiority again? Yes, and I always will.

Anyway, back to me being brain washed. Have you ever had diet soda? It's basically like regular soda but without the delicious taste and the conscious weight and pain of a regular soda. It's like telling yourself that you are drinking water, but if it actually tasted good. It's really similar to eating a lean cuisine instead of a hungry man, you eat it and you're like 'well, that wasn't very satisfying, but it did the job.' A phrase I am sure that is uttered most often by brides on their wedding night. They shouldn't call it diet, they should just call it guilt free soda. I don't truly believe that it will help you with your diet, I just think it helps you justify it. Like myself, we are all just looking to justify our poor actions and behaviors.

I recently went 'on the wagon' so to speak, and stopped drinking the fully leaded Coca Cola. AKA the nectar of the Gods. Saying that you're 'on the wagon' is just a nice way of saying that you have lost control of your actions and can't be trusted to make good decisions or have something in moderation. You are a glutton. So you must quit cold turkey, withal. That is what I had to do with Coke. I love Coke, and I would drink it all day long and would feel nothing. However, the intake of that much high fructose corn syrup was affecting my body. Against all odds, I was getting fatter. I never admitted it out loud, but I would stand shirtless in front of the mirror for long spells of time looking at myself in horror. It was like I was waiting for bloody Mary to come out. But instead I was just looking at a burlap sack filled with mushy potatoes. So my wife suggested that I stop drinking Coke.

I'm still hopelessly addicted to the caffeine. When your alarm clock rings at 4:30 AM every weekday, you need the help. I have resorted to Excedrin in the mornings to keep me awake on my drive. But all the while I think longingly about Coke and its loving embrace. I'm sure the hard drug AKA booger sugar would wake me up as well, but I am talking about the soda here.

My mother in law tried to convert me to diet coke when we went on a cruise this winter. She said and I quote "you don't like it at first and then you just keep drinking it and one day you like it." Which to me sounded like nonsense. You might as well be telling me "you don't know how much better your sense of smell can be until you gouge your eyes out." This sounded like Diet Coke cult pyramid scheme nonsense.

And then it happened.

I knew if I had one drop of coke that I would backslide and I would have to start all over again. So I started drinking Coke Zero. Which I still find to be a piss poor excuse for a Coke, but it's tolerable.

Then I found Coke Zero with Vanilla. Which is still like the Asian knock off of Vanilla Coke (Which is basically legal crack. How can they get away with selling something that good? Vanilla Coke on tap > literally everything else)

Now I am drinking Diet Mtn Dew and wondering what happened to my life. Am I going to become like every other middle aged white woman who drinks diet? Am I going to start believing in the healing powers of DoTerra oils? Will my next car be an SUV with a third row of seats? Will I start using dry shampoo? Will I bleach my hair blonde? I don't know who I am anymore.

I'm not convinced that diet is better than regular and I never will be. I just find it to be a tolerable and guilt free alternative. At least until I get aspartame poisoning. What will I drink then? Water? Get right the hell out of here.

Mirror Mirror On The Wall Who's The Biggest Dumb Ass Of All

Have you ever thought that you had bad luck? Like maybe you spilled the salt and that's the reason that you fell down the stairs? Or maybe you walked under a ladder and that's why you aren't rich? I have these thoughts all the time. I always try to explain something that has happened, either good or bad, on some external force that is out to get me/trying to help me.

I grew up in an overly superstitious household. Being called from another room because someone dropped a fork and didn't want to pick it up. Or throwing a handful of salt over your right shoulder to correct the salt you spilt on the table. It gets a little exhausting trying to trace back all my steps and think "Maybe it was because I _____________." Always seeking for some kind of explanation for everything, although comforting at the conclusion to find a blame for things, was tiring.

I do think that some superstitions can be interesting/valuable. I love hardcore/metal music, I have for years and years. My parents thought that it was because I was possessed, but in reality I just liked being different, and liked music with some kind of message. I listened to a lot of heavy music through my tenure at Manti High School. I also played football and wrestled. While most of the guys on my team would listen to music in the locker room prior to a game, my 'superstition' was to not listen to music at all, even though I love(d) music. I found that I preformed much better if I just sat and thought. So does that mean I would play horribly if I were to listen to music? Not likely. In retrospect I just had a better head space. So maybe some 'superstitions' are more of a preferential thing that get carried throughout time, and passed on.

Or maybe people are just insane?

Have you ever looked into peoples 'signs'? Those are some beliefs I do not understand. Because you were born at a certain time when the earth was a certain position in its pattern around the sun explains why you act a certain way? Not only that, it will predict future actions and behavior patterns? Who even thought long enough about that to piece that together? I don't even know what my sign is, or what I will act like. Is that typical behavior for my sign? Did they predict that? Is there other magic involved? Can the stars tell me the next lottery drawing numbers? Can they at least tell me whats for dinner?

Never mind, I am cooking dinner I already know whats for dinner, stupid. That was a trick question.

Have you ever thought that maybe all the bad luck and signs are just your excuse for not taking responsibility for your own shitty actions? Or not accepting that sometimes bad things happen for a reason you can't explain? I understand the feeling that you don't want to accept that something is out of your control. That is probably one of the hardest lessons that I am still learning as I have grown up. I have learned in my marriage that I am a 'fixer'. I just solve problems, whatever they are and whatever the cost. Even if I have to stay up all night, I will fix the sink, or the toilet, or the car, or whatever. If something happens that I can't fix, it honestly and truly upsets me. So I have spent the last couple of years trying to reign that in. I agree that it's way easier to have something fall through, or the car break down, or money run out and shake your fist at the sky and curse God, or the devil, or Sagittarius or your cursed luck, or what the hell ever. It's hard to accept that sometimes things just fall apart for no rhyme or reason. Even if you are doing your best, and you have lived up to every statute you have set up for yourself, but it falls short. That is heart breaking. But maybe things fall apart so you can be better. In whatever way. I can't tell you that tragedy is a good thing. I also can't tell you that it is or is not because of Venus' moon cycle or whatever, or because you broke a mirror and have bad luck. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Maybe diamonds and precious metals will start flying out of my ass.

I can tell you that the sooner you take responsibility for your actions, the better your life will be. If you spend all your time shouting at salt shakers and the star patterns, you will miss out on a great deal. Fix what you can fix, don't worry about what you cannot. Have a good laugh every once in a while. Life is hard, that's why nobody survives. You might as well not spend it blaming the unknown and be thankful for what you have.

Now if you'll excuse me I am going to look up what my horoscope is and eat some fortune cookies and maybe even visit a local tarot card reader or other charlatan. May you all have an abundance of good luck, you idiots.

Sparkling water can kiss my ass

I had a dream the other night that I was at an ice cream store. Some of you may not find this to be a surprise by any measure, just by looking at me. I probably dream about food all the time, but that's for me to know. Anyway, I was at the ice cream store when two fellows walked in, had a look around to assess who was there, then pulled out their firearms and robbed the ice cream store. The burning question I have had since having this reverie is; why would anyone want to hold up an ice cream store for money? I can't imagine that they would have much money. But then again, I haven't been a robber in a long time, so what would I know about that?

My conclusion, your honor, is that the type of people who hold up an ice cream store are the same type of people who actively seek out and DRINK sparkling water. Their judgement is clouded, at best, and they couldn't be trusted with any major schemes or robberies.

Sparkling water is such a bullshit excuse for a drink. I would rather drink plain water, and honestly, I'd rather be thirsty than drink plain water. 

I realize that plain water is absolutely essential to life, and I think that's great. But when people carbonate it just for the sheer sake of carbonating something is like putting wings on a pig; it doesn't mean the damn thing is going to fly. It's a pointless, tasteless, useless, addition to something; and you, against all odds, make water worse. Water honestly sucks, that's why we started drinking milk from cows and goats, because water is the worst. We did something that no other animal in the history of existence has done, we went up and stole milk from other animals nipples to drink it ourselves. Cleverly thinking; this dumbass cow drinks enough water for the both of us! Finding shortcuts for hydration. Just because we would rather not drink water.

And here we are, instead of taking the tried and true methods around drinking plain water, take a longer road home and drink 'sparkling water'. Standing around thinking "You know what? I am awfully thirsty. Do you have anything that tastes like pickle juice but is bubbly? Just have an insatiable thirst for something sparkling, but I want it to taste like it was poured on the sidewalk first." Get the hell out of here.

They probably only serve sparkling water in prison along with plain white rice with dried out gravy. And I would imagine that even prisoners are trading smokes for packets of sugar to dump into their beverage from hell. The guy with the most Stevia is likely the king pin in the prison, a modern day Al Capone. But I can only think that even adding sugar to sparkling water is like putting a band aid on an axe wound.

The only instance I could ever see myself drinking sparkling water would be if I were stranded in a desert and it was between a nice cold Perrier and my own urine. And honestly, I would probably just water down my whiz with some of the Perrier.

If I want something sparkling, it's going to be a Sprite every time. Sprite is delicious and flavorful, and the drink choice of both Lebron James and Grant Hill. Some of you may turn your nose up at this and say "You dumb bastard, that's why you'll be fat your entire life." My retort would be: If the price I have to pay to lose weight is drinking sparkling water, then I will die with a smile on my face as they take off part of my roof and remove my fat bloated 800 lb corpse with a crane, and I will see YOU in hell. Enjoy your sparkling dog shit.

To my lovely wife who will read this and inevitably comment - "I like sparkling water...";

Get a grip. <3

Grown ups are idiots

Do you remember when you were a little kid and you referred to anyone over the age of 18 as a grown up? There was definitely a certain hierarchy among kids; there were kids your age, kids that were a little older than you, kids in middle school, and kids in high school, then at some point you just graduate to becoming a grown up. I've found as I have gotten older and altogether wiser, that this is an outright lie. I know, personally, people in their mid twenties and thirties who have not grown up even a little. In fact, some that I know have regressed and are, against all odds, worse than they were as a child. Or, so I imagine.

The thoughts of grown ups always frightened me as a child, because I always assumed that I was wrong and that they were right. While this was sometimes true, I still think back on certain events and could argue viably that I was right, even as a child. However, I didn't like to argue as a child, and I like to argue less as an adult. This all comes down to the fact that I was frightened of 'adults' as a child because I was frightened of my parents... Wait. That sounds a little bad. Let me tell you a story that might put things into perspective.

My parents had this kick ass pantry when I was a kid that was just over the stairs that led to the basement, and it had a built in shelf that was excellent for sitting. This pantry was filled with typical pantry items like sugar and flour, but it's also where my mom kept chips and fruit snacks and other desirable items. So one afternoon and I was an hungered, but I didn't want to commit to a full meal or snack, I just wanted to graze. So I went rooting around in the pantry and had a stroke of good luck in finding a bag of Doritos that actually had chips inside, and hadn't been rummaged through and put back on the shelf empty. So I sat on the shelf and ate the Doritos happily, wiping my cheesy fingers on my pants. I hadn't been chomping for more than a few minutes when my younger brother came barreling through the kitchen, pulling all the bar stools out behind him, as though to obstruct the path of a pursuant. I looked down the hall to see who was chasing after the little devil, when my dad came thundering out of his room chasing my brother full stride. I am not joking or exaggerating when I tell you that I watched my father leap over all 4 kitchen bar stools like a gazelle escaping a lioness. I watched Josh run out the sliding glass door off the kitchen, closing the door behind him, and run off the deck and down the stairs to the yard where he would soon be captured and punished accordingly. All the while I continued to eat my Doritos. 

So yeah, I was a little afraid to argue with my parents because my dad was an Olympic athlete when it came to a hot pursuit. And I have never really been that fast.

Growing up is an all encompassing phrase, and could be used more frugally if you ask me. Does growing up mean that you have a job with insurance, or does it mean that you are mature enough to not look at your ex-boyfriends new girlfriends facebook and scoff haughtily? Or does it mean that you are just an old sack of shit who complains all the time and goes to bed at eight and gets mad about loud neighbors and doesn't like kids? Was that last question just a statement about myself? Is this cryptic or obvious?

I just like that argument when people say "When are you gonna grow up?" How would a person even know that? Is there a time constraint or limit? Should I visit my local gypsy to have them read my tarot cards to know my exact growing up date (I'm hoping for good news from her anyway)? 

I think that some people never grow up because they are never really forced to. Some people are born into wealth or status, sometimes even if it's what we call Sanpete County Royalty* status, and are never forced to cut the apron strings, and carry on like a child never accepting responsibility for their actions. Someone is always there to make an excuse for them or defend them when they're wrong. These kinds of people usually don't contribute well to society, in my personal opinion. I honestly hate spoiled kids because I work very hard, so perhaps it's a jealousy thing. Gee, I wish my dad would pay for my college and car and house and divorce and new boyfriend and clothes and drinking habit!

I'm not sure where I was headed with that. But if you are one of those kids and maybe read this and take offense, be sure to tell your mom or dad on me. I'll pimp slap all three of you to the ground.

I think we could all use some growing up; This unattainable ideal of what the normal threshold is for functioning adults. I don't think that anyone is or will ever be a full fledged grown up. There will always be something you can do better. But you can take solace in the fact that you can literally look around and know that everybody you see isn't a full functioning adult either; the ones who appear to be are just faking it better. Just like some people are better at art, some people are better at math, and some people are good at being human Furbies - they were popular at one time and got sent to Goodwill after 2 years of sitting in a tote in the basement, then some poor inner city kid took it home and played with it for a couple days and is now sitting on the floor of a condemned home staring at the ceiling and wasting time and space. But they're good at being that useless trash. Some people are even good scientists!

Being grown up is honestly hard and I commend all people who are facing it with a brave face. Because seriously it would be like... insanely easier to get addicted to crack and have government assistance housing and work at McDonalds for just few enough hours to get government subsidized food stamps but just enough cash to pay for some low tier crack. But here we all are, doing our best to make it work on our own without uncle Sam's help. No, instead of helping you up, he has his boot on your neck and is trying to squeeze every last dime and overtime hour out of your useless body! I guess what I am saying is straight up, keep up the good work. It's easy to look around and get discouraged but you keep getting up for work or school or whatever and honestly just by showing up to your appointments and doing your job, however menial it may or may not be, you are making the world a better, more livable place. Things probably won't ever be an absolute dream, but if you keep your nose to the freaking grindstone, you can get pretty damn close. So don't lose the faith.

I guess maybe this is a love letter to myself that I am letting you guys read, but I felt there were some fair points. Grow up you freakin dips.


*For any unfamiliar, Sanpete County Royalty is an autoimmune disease in which the subject is born into a family that is of self proclaimed nobility and status, relative to the region. Typically the disease is found in cities and counties of low income, and are geographically far from any metropolis. Over time the patient develops unparalleled haughtiness and universal self unawareness. Similar to the Dunning-Kruger Effect, the patient believes they are better, smarter, and prettier than they actually are; but are incapable of understanding that they are not. There is no known cure. Typical signs of someone who may have the disease include, but are not limited to: Will only socialize with people who also have the disease, will only go to church to scoff at people of lesser fortune, will yell at referees at a youth sporting event, have notoriously big hair, signs up for known pyramid schemes, argues with friends and coworkers about which car brand is best, talks about how rich their parents are, has two or more ATV's, has a theater room in the house, has been known to closet drink, will shame any family who has a gay son or daughter, will shame a family if a son or daughter goes to rehab, will shame a family for any other reason, attends all high school sporting events, turns nose up often, is known to whisper to their friends in public, wear BYU gear, discusses their 2nd amendment rights loudly and often, has strong political opinions despite not understanding politics or current events, wears camouflage often, has a truck or luxury car payment they can't afford. If you or someone you know is suffering from this disease, talk to your doctor today for treatment.

Here is a candy ranking probably

Did you honestly think I was going to dedicate an entire blog based on candy? Well, you are only partially right. I like candy, but I am what people refer to as a 'candy elitist'. This is because I will ruthlessly harangue anyone who eats candy that is the edible equivalent of dog shit. You know that they say 'trick or treat' because there is a chance someone will give you a Kit-Kat (Treat) or a pencil (Trick), a Milky Way (Treat) or a toothbrush (Diabolical trick), right? You see, it's not so much that someone will kidnap you, which I guess is possible, as much as someone will fill your pillowcase with licorice or sweet tarts instead of something digestible.

This isn't going to be some history lesson on Halloween started, because I am not a pagan and I really don't care. It's mostly just the practical side of Halloween, in my adult opinion.

See, you dress up because you don't want the trick or treat supplier to give you a certain type of candy based on how ugly you are. You dress up to even the playing field between those who are unrighteously hot and those who are light speed ugly. Sure, the people who are gifted with looks may exploit that fact, but it's still a costume. As someone who is classically ugly, I found that it's more important to make people laugh or be impressed with your halloween costume when it comes to optimal candy gathering, rather than framing your good looks.

The other aspect of it is that you don't want the trick or treat provider to give you smarties because you are a known shit head. A costume hides your identity, this way they don't know if you are the sweet boy sitting front row at church or the one who is a known barbie un-dresser. You have just as much of a chance at collecting apples with razor-blades as you do packages of Butterfinger BB's (RIP) when you identity is withheld.

All this leads me to one point, trunk or treat promotes lazy children. They should be out HUSTLING for that candy like the rest of us. Not walk to everyones stupid car and gather their candy like they deserve it, it's bullshit. Trunk or treat is a microcosm of what people say is 'wrong with America' (There is a lot wrong with America, so I realize that's painting with a broad brush). And for those of you who agree with that statement, understand that you are just as much the cause. The kids who are dressed as Minions going around to the trunks of your Chevy Equinox aren't the ones who facilitated such a dumb ass tradition, it was you; the adults. You demanded more for your children and are contributing to a society of perpetual laziness. So the next time you complain about 'damn millenials' understand that we are a product of our environment; an environment that you climatized and created. You are as much of the problem as the answer. Nobody is blameless anymore.

Sorry, that got off track. I hate trunk or treat and won't be participating in it. Let's get back to the real issue here; candy.

Let me start with another statement about candy corn. Candy corn is the worst candy that has ever been invented. It is actually the worst food that has ever been invented, period. I would rather travel to rural china and eat frogs and stray dogs than eat candy corn. I wouldn't even feed candy corn to a cat that attacked me. If you left candy corn out in a dish, it would never go bad because Candy corn is made from all the tupperware that warped in the dishwasher from 1995, and since your body can't digest plastic, it just goes through your system and they filter for it in the sewer, wash it off with the same Dawn dish soap they clean ducks and wildlife with after an oil spill, put it in a bag and sell it again. You know how margarine is only one chemical component away from being plastic? Well candy corn is like 10 chemical components away from being capable of digestion by any living being. Anyone who gives out candy corn on halloween is the modern equivalent of the witch in Hanzel and Gretel, but instead of cooking you in their oven, they just want you to die at home in bed because you ate radioactive chemicals.

Here is some other candy that sucks: Smarties, Bottle Caps, Wax Lips, Those wax bottle things that have like some kind of syrup inside that literally one drop, the blue tootsie rolls that are vanilla flavored good lord I just remembered those and felt like dying just typing that, Sugar Babies, Sugar Daddies but not like the old guy that you marry for his money and he marries you for sexual reasons sorry kids gotta learn about it some day, Fun Dip but the ones that only have one of the white sticks and way too much of that bullshit powder, salt water taffy, dark chocolate, Oh Henry! bars, Dum-Dum's and pretty much any kind of sucker, Mr Goodbar's, Peeps of any shape or color like why do I need a marshmallow covered in sugar what the actual hell, And although controversial; Reeses can kiss my ass.

I hope you all have a safe Halloween and that you don't fall prey to any covens and that if you dress up for trick or treating or to be freaky at home, that you don't get tricked into eating any harmful plastics. Happy hunting. Go Red Sox.

Satan's Little Hellper.

I have been thinking a lot about hell.

While traditionally I always imagined the fire and brimstone, I have enjoyed thinking about the different forms it may or may not take as I have gotten older. I have been watching a fair amount of both TV shows 'The Good Place' and 'Preacher'. Both of which are quite good, but offer an interesting perspective on what hell is or might be.

On 'The Good Place', the idea is that an architect in hell is trying to veer from traditional torture methods and create something more sinister to torture people. In essence, trying to create emotional turmoil rather than locking you in a crate and dropping scorpions in. To be honest, I would much rather get tossed in a pit of snakes than have someone try to psychologically damage me. I'm a very simple person, it wouldn't be that hard to confuse me and make me cry, just beat me with a wooden bat when I get to hell.

The TV series 'Preacher' has the image that every person in hell will re-live the worst moment of their lives over and over and over, endlessly. Additionally, how you react each time could potentially trigger something worse to happen in your memory. I thought about this long and hard, and to be fair, I can't pinpoint when the worst moment of my life would be. Would it be that time when I ran down the hall in third grade, barfing the whole way, only to arrive at the toilet not needing to barf anymore, but covered my favorite shirt in puke? Or maybe that time when my older sister told me I couldn't have any of her 6 ft bubble tape and hid it in her dresser. Then, knowing where she hid it, sneaking into her room, chewing the entire 6 ft and sticking each chewed up piece to a sticker that was on her dresser? Then after that having my mom confront me asking if I did it, blatantly lying and saying no? Actually, I don't feel that bad about that. She should have shared when she had the chance, AMANDA. I do feel bad about lying to my mom. Sorry mom.

I always pictured hell in a different light. You see, I do imagine that there are architects in hell, drawing up plans for me to be uncomfortable for eternity. I also have a pretty good idea about what my hell would look like. Maybe I will get promoted to an architect in hell after a few millennia. You can laugh but, they let people out of prison for good behavior.

I would imagine when I arrive in hell I will be put in the middle of a crowded Ulta makeup store. I would really need to use the bathroom, and desperately trying to find my wife, or an exit to go use the horrible pig trough of a mall restroom. But every time I turned a corner, there would be a swarm of young teenage girls clogging up the aisles. I can see my wife's blonde head, but every time I would try to go down the aisle to meet up with her, there would be a gaggle of idiot girls. I refuse to say 'excuse me' and cut through the girls, because I refuse to do that in real life. I just keep attempting to go down a different aisle and avoid any confrontation, or speaking to anyone in any form, just like I do now, and finding more crowded aisles. The more times I try to dodge, the more girls that show up. Pretty soon it's like an Ozzy Osbourne concert, and I can't move at all, and I am surrounded by girls wearing black shirts of bands they don't listen to, and talking about boys they don't like. At this point I have to whiz so bad I decide to just go in a local garbage can but find none. The hell doesn't reset until I wet my pants, and every girl is pointing and laughing.

I do have an alternate hell idea for myself. I would be at McDonalds, and after picking up my order that is completely wrong, and full of pickles and mustard, I try to get to the drink fountain. I am just absolutely frothing at the mouth for some of that delicious, ethereal, saintly, seraphic, cherubic, celestial, heavenly McDonalds Coca-cola. While on my way to the fountain, there is a very long line of folks. The problem isn't the line, it's that no one is paying attention. They are all looking at their phones and showing each other pictures of their children, cats and dogs. So every time I try to shove ahead, a person turns to me, shows me a picture of their dog or cat, and I have to feign excited. It starts out with the cat people who just show you pictures of their cat sleeping and saying "He's an asshole." and I say "Yep, but at least he's cute?" and they laugh and agree. The Dog people are worse. They will not leave me alone until they tell me how old their dog is, what their name is, what tricks they can do, what their favorite snack is, what funny things they do, where they sleep. how often they have to walk them, and how often they have to poop. It gets worse as you progress the line because then it's moms showing you pictures of their kids. It's a similar thing to the dog people, except they tell you the bad things about their kids, too. Like how they only want to play Fortnite, and that their friend Alex is a bad influence, and how you found your Victorias Secret magazine in their underwear drawer. So after about 40 years of fake smiling and laughing and "Wow he/she is very cute." I finally arrive at what I assume is the fountain of peace and love, only to find that this McDonalds only offers Pepsi and Coke Zero. The hell wont reset until I cry trying to get back to my table to eat my food, but having to look at every ones animals (Children included in that sentiment) again.

So I guess you could say that you could put me into any hell where I have to make small talk. or where people are, and I wouldn't be happy. At all. I guess this means hell could be where I am. And maybe yours could be where you are...

That's bleak.

Maybe you're good enough that you won't go to hell, though. So if you are, that's great. However, if you are reading THIS blog, I doubt that very much.

Hello Sir can I ask you a quick question?

I saw a girl walking down the street the other day and she was wearing a tan twill pea coat with plaid markings on it. She was also wearing a hat of similar color with ear flaps that were tied to the top. It was around 70 degrees out, so it was odd to see someone wearing a coat at all. I said, out loud, "Huh. she must be off to solve some mysteries." I was in the car alone. So sure, she is dressed like a female Sherlock Holmes, but I am the one driving down the road talking to myself. So I guess we are both weird. I don't want to stereotype here, but she seemed like the type of girl who colors her hair blue and has a pet reptile whom she has named a real persons name such as George or Keith. I'm just grasping at straws here, but I'm guessing she probably also watches anime. Again, not trying to typecast, it's just what I would guess that someone wearing that outfit might do in their free time. 

Have you ever wondered what people might say about you when you are walking down the street? Not that I walk down the street anymore, that's why God invented dinosaurs that turned into oil that power cars that I drive so I don't have to walk like some sorry person. But maybe what someone would say about you if they saw you at the store?

See, this poses an interesting question. Because I will only consign myself to go to the store, more particularly the Wal-marts, after work. The reasoning for that is because morale is at an all time low after work. So there is literally nothing that the friendly staff and shoppers of the Wal-marts could do to me that could make things worse. Because of this, I am dressed very peculiarly. See, I wear my coveralls at work, so I wear trash clothes to work because my coveralls will cover-all (buh-dum-tiss) of my shame I show up in. So if someone were to see me at the Wal-marts after work I would be wearing a disgusting hat that is marred black by grease and hydraulic fluid. I would be wearing an old t-shirt that doesn't fit exactly right anymore, but I have held onto for many *reasons. I am always wearing old basketball shorts I bought 5 years ago. I am wearing my steel toes work shoes that are falling apart and make an odd flapping noise when I walk. Lastly my tall black socks will be rolled down to my ankles, but you can see the red marks where they were pulled up because my calves are so fat, it looks like I tried to stuff a sausage but gave up. So seeing me going around the Wal-marts, looking at my phone and cursing at my grocery list, and having a cart full of poor people food (My wife likes those Totino Party Pizzas that are one dollar and they, in my professional opinion, are pig slop. What you would leave out for stray dogs to fight over. Swill. Rubbish. Waste. But yeah, I've got those in my cart and like, raviolis and stuff to make PB&J's and canned meat.) You might think to yourself; huh. This fat, angry man looks like the rest of this lot. A sorry person. An imbecile. A fool! An absolute clod! He belongs here!

And to be fair, I wouldn't disagree. But that's part of my survival method. If you want to go to the Wal-marts and not be hassled by the XFinity salesmen waiting like snakes in short grass near the entertainment section, it's helpful to look like you are there to meet a drug dealer, or buy ingredients to make bombs. They whisper amongst themselves "I doubt this person even has a TV, much less Internet and Cable. Let him walk by without impedance." Which is great for me, because honestly, I would rather jump out of my own moving car and run myself over than talk to them.

One time I was at the Wal-marts and I was showered and dressed like a normal functioning adult, and I got trapped by one of those salespeople. She was like "What brings you to the store today?" and I wanted to say: "Well, I was hoping to trade stocks and/or race go-carts, but you guys don't do that." Like, why else would I be here? I hate myself and I need groceries for cheap. I am not on some secret treasure hunt. What I actually said was "Getting stuff for dinner." Like some half brained idiot. And she goes "What are you making?" and i said "Not sure yet." thinking that would ward her off, but ohhhhh no. She goes "Well, my grandma has this great recipe for chicken noodle soup and its great in the fall time its just..." and she proceeded, for the next 18 years, to tell me this recipe. When the truth was, I wasn't there to even get anything for dinner. I needed milk and toilet paper, and there I was, getting told some secret recipe for a soup I wasn't even going to make. I had already eaten dinner. I appreciate her being nice, but I really hate talking to people. In fact, I'm not even convinced that I actually got away from that. There is still a small chance that I am where I am in spirit, and my real body is still there, getting told how to make meema's chicken noodle soup.

I also really hate when I am at Sephora or Ulta with my wife while she is buying makeup, and I am standing there like a dunce staring at something I don't know, or care anything about. Then a worker comes up to me and says: "are you finding everything okay?" Like yeah, some husky man wearing a baseball hat and a black heavy metal t-shirt and shorts is a little lost on which highlighter to use. I am not some fashion forward metro sexual looking fellow who is here to browse. I look like a truck driver who came here on accident. I am not shopping here, I am just here to swipe my debit card when it's all finally, after many hours, over. That is my only purpose, the beginning and end. Notice how there aren't any chairs in those makeup hellscapes? BS if you ask me. 

I guess I shouldn't be so harsh, Those people are just doing their job. But the could use a little help reading the room, in my honest opinion. Or maybe I could stand to lighten up, and be friendlier?

No. It's definitely the first.

There isn't anything wrong with me. It's them.

It's always them. They are out to get me, the general public. They hate me and despise me and want to make my life miserable.

Yes.

That's it. You are all the problem.

*The reason I have all these old horrible shirts is because I literally cannot keep anything nice. So my wife will get me a new shirt, and ask me to keep it in presentable condition. And I usually don't, So If I am caught wearing a nice shirt to work, it would be the end of me. You would drive past our complex and read my tombstone that says "Here lies Jake, he ruined every t-shirt, perhaps on purpose. I couldn't afford to keep buying t-shirts for this moron. I just wish he could wear something nice out." And there would be a flip-book of all the many shirts I have ruined (Like a dictionary size. I keep staining them, what do you want from me? To eat like I am NOT starving to death? Maybe they should make food that doesn't ruin shirts. Again, I am not the issue here.

P.S. Sorry for saying 'The Wal-marts' so much, I have this problem where when I think something is funny, I will say it until it becomes a problem and everyone hates me for it. Just who I am as a person.

I'm not scared of lots of things

Greetings from Everett Washington where I am currently sitting in my house alone, but I have turned on every light. I realize that this is not necessarily 'green', but to anyone who is upset about that, have you seen the movie Hereditary? I am not bullshitting when I say that was the scariest damn movie I have ever seen. So yeah, they're gonna have to burn a little more coal than usual so I can make sure there are no shadows in my house, put me under arrest. I pay for the electricity. I feed the corporate monkey, I can do as I wish!

Last year about this time my wife made me go and see the remake of The Blair Witch project. I am not ashamed to admit that I covered my face for the last 15 minutes of the movie, because I really like sleeping. After that, I told my wife that I never want to watch a scary movie ever again. But after a year I finally got ground down and caved. After this last mistake, I am going on record and saying I will never watch a scary movie ever again. It scared my wife so bad I had to go to the store, as a 27 year old man, and buy a nightlight for the bathroom. I am on the verge of calling in a catholic priest to get some holy water in a spray bottle, just to be sure. I imagine it would be like when your dog is doing something you don't like and you spray it with the water bottle, but it would be a demon from hell and you spray it with holy water and it melt, alllllllllll the way back to hell.

There's this guy at my work who has one eye that is white. Like the whole thing is white. He also has a tattoo on his arm that reads 'immortal', and it's the only time in my life I have read someones tattoo and believed what it said. He has tried to make eye contact with me a couple of times, but I always look away quickly. Because I firmly believe that if I look in his white eye, one of two things might happen: A) it has hypnotic powers and he can trance me into doing his dark bidding, whatever that may be. or B) It has powers to read my mind and he can find passwords to my bank account (He would be disappointed) and to my Facebook or social security or whatever. So as of today, I haven't had either of those things happen because I am way too smart.

We live in a rough part of town. It was an odd change to go from living in the basement of old people and it was always quiet (Except for that DAMN wind chime) to living on Casino road where just last night, I was pretty sure I heard gun shots, but I told my wife it was probably just fireworks. I can't say for sure it was one or the other. Also this was after watching that movie and I didn't need any more reason to be worried. I can't buy like, ten night lights. Sorry.

This did make me think something though; Have you ever been so mad at someone that you would actually want to kill them? Not like, when I fart in bed and my wife says "I'm going to kill you." I'm talking like get a gun and shoot someone with it. Doesn't that make you sick? I mean, I have definitely been mad enough that I have been like, maybe I would take a swipe at someone with a knife. Just like hurt them enough to make them think about what they've done. But never kill someone. So when I hear gun shots I always wonder what lead up to that. Like maybe your best friend and your girl friend were shacked up together? That would be a bummer. Or, more likely near this part of town, someone stole your crack money. Or your crack. I can't speak from experience, but I imagine that that causes tempers to flare. People are quite sensitive about their crack (Both the drugs and the cracks in their butts) I guess This just makes me wish that the gun fighting would stop. This isn't a Kurt Russel movie. You can't just go around town shooting your gun. There are two people in their mid twenties living in this apartment who are scared enough as it is, and just went and bought nightlights for their house, where is your sense of decency?

I guess this has brought me to one big recurring thought I have had over the last little while. As I have grown as a man, and a person over the last while (Particularly year) I have realized that there really isn't anything that is worth getting so angry about. Sure, it sucks when your boss puts you off on your promotions, and when the maintenance in your building leaves a hole cut in the ceiling of the bathroom for three weeks, but being angry isn't going to help solve the issue. I really write this as a reminder to myself. Things will work out when they do. So don't get so angry when someone steals your crack that you go and shoot them on the street. Just be cool, man. More crack is always available and, from what I have seen, people are always giving you idiots cash on the street corners. So whatever it is, just make sure you keep your brain in your head. It's gonna be okay. Like yeah, it was just a movie, but did you hear that? I think I saw something move. Send thoughts and prayers.