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.