Archive | February, 2013

A set of jokes I was too depressed to tell at the time I wrote them

11 Feb

Yea I’m allergic to nuts, all nuts, walnuts, pine nuts, peanuts (yea I know…a peanut isn’t a nut its a LEgume!)
But yea it sucks because I became allergic at 23. that means for 20 plus years I knew the tasty deliciousness of such a cheap protein.

Come to find out, I’m also slightly allergic to corn, soy, and wheat. Imagine how I must feel, its like God’s way of saying fuck you, you will not reproduce.

It’s a dirty trick to pull on someone, Only ten years ago, I could come home from work, get two slices of bread, a jar of peanut butter, some strawberries, and drizzle some honey and I’d be set for a yummy and inexpensive snack. I loved peanut butter, the only way it could be worse if all of a sudden I was afflicted with the urge to violently heave up my dinner every time I saw a pair of titties. Its on par with that dude from clockwork orange getting ill every time he heard classical music.

I’ve realized that I’m not meant to be happy. My last girlfriend was beautiful, pretty eyes, and so sweet and nice. I knew I was in trouble when I could not make that work. She was the perfect girlfriend. Fucked me whenever I wanted sex, made me breakfast in bed, washed my clothes, brought me a jacket to work if I forgot mine.

All that being said it took everything I had not to cheat on her–and I loved her. That’s when I realized I was not meant to be with one woman. I’m just built differently I guess. For some people, its easy to be committed, easy to be good. Not me. I have to talk myself out of being a selfish asshole.

I caught myself having these dialogues with myself. Asking questions like:

How far should I let this conversation go before I mention I have a girlfriend?

How much of a piece of shit would I have to be to sleep with someone in my girlfriend’s apartment complex?

Making out isn’t cheating right? What about handjobs? There was no genital to genital touching so nothing technically happened right?

I dunno….. being single ain’t all that great either. sometimes being single to me is like paying for car insurance. Sure its great to have in case you run into something, but more than likely you won’t run into anything for a very long time.

I don’t know how to meet women either. I’m no good at bars. More often than not I’d rather watch Sportscenter highlights than have to strike up a conversation with a woman. Any smart woman can see a line coming from a mile away. I hate small talk and don’t like coming off as a phony–trying to sell myself like a Cutco knife salesman. “I’m a great guy and these are the reasons you should fuck me…..” I wish I could be like some people who won’t quit a job unless they got another one lined up. I guess if you think about it quitting a job is kind of like breaking up with someone, except the two weeks notice is usually more subtle, in a relationship. Secretly you know when you’re done, sometimes it just takes a while to work up the nerve to go through with it. You can’t just up and say “I’m leaving you at the end of the month to start fucking someone else in D.C. (I guess you could but it’d be bad form)

The guilt is kind of the same. You wonder how the other party is going to be without you as a regular. Try to word things in a way that won’t hurt your chances of coming back in case things don’t work out in your next venture.

Unfortunately though, quitting your partner involves a lot more feelings, and ain’t nearly as neat. You can avoid your former employer by avoiding the job site. There is a chance you’ll run into your ex anywhere. I’ve never unlocked my front door, worrying that an ex-boss was sitting in my living room with a knife in their hands.

~Bobby Mickey


Why bother?

10 Feb

He said,
“I’m not trying to be too invested in this. I don’t want to be hurt if this ends.”

She said,
“That’s impossible to predict, because everything ends sooner or later.”

He said,
“Well how can you be so sure this is going to work out?”

She said,
“It depends on what you define as working out.”

He said,
“Well how do we know this isn’t a mistake?”

She said,
“Maybe there are no such things a mistakes, only experiences.
Maybe the beginning and end of things aren’t necessarily as important as what happens in between.”

He nodded, then thought silently of all those (painful)lessons from all those experiences.

Then he said,
“Well how do I know I can trust this?”

She smiled. Then she said,
“Do you have a choice?”

He said.
“Okay. I think you’re right.”

~Edward Austin Robertson

The Streets of Baltimore

4 Feb

In honor of the World Champion Baltimore Ravens I give you this home video by Baltimore native Frank Zappa:


3 Feb

The Drive Back

She looked so out of it.
Glassy in the eyes
talking foggily into
her Dixie cup of peanuts,
and high on anesthesia.

He looked through her collection of CD’s
wishing Brian Eno had made an album
for occasions like these.

For some reason he imagined it would be more dramatic
like that scene out of
“Hills Like White Elephants”
or the movies “Green berg”
and “Last American Virgin.”

But the sun was out
and the day was gorgeous
and there was no hint of heaviness about the

In five exits she would be sleeping in his bed
while he went back to the conference for work.

No shred of guilt at all.
They could just as easily be returning from
the dentist office
or Disneyland.

Nothing felt abnormal about it all.
Which felt a bit abnormal.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

Toro y Moi

2 Feb

This is what we men like to affectionately call “Panty-dropper” shows.

I can’t wait for the show tonight