Tag Archives: humor

Dog day after dusk

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Filed under non-fiction rambling, stories

‘Hello,’ lions and lionesses! (and I DO mean ‘Hello’ by Lionel Richie, but no one would have gotten that.)

Just hurry the fuck up. I’ll be ready in 4 minutes.” demanded Katherine, my lanky, buxom-less, beloved, platonic roommate. Her eyes hadn’t wavered in my direction: they were only ever locked to the screen of her laptop fixed on her lap, not unusually.
“Okay. I’m gonna hop in the shower.” I responded. Katherine sounded a grunt in acknowledgment and admission. Even she knew her face would still be basking in the glow of the laptop after my shower.
The heirs to the Age of Aquarius are all tanning to the waning shine of the screen, ‘hello to you too‘. I thought as I let the gradually warming water run from the shower head. I played a game on my cellphone while waiting. I was catapulting disgruntled fowls into the homes of discolored swine, pooping piously.

Last night, my horoscope advised me to seek out someone helpful in keeping me focused. I have a natural knack in wandering from my day’s itinerary regardless of importance. I normally check the next day’s horoscope most nights because I don’t want to curse as bad as I do. Being unprepared for surprises while being poor only leads to this. Once, I cursed so profanely, it was like an exploded sewage line. I had lost my job despite having an excuse with a medical emergency. Admittedly, I could have made the effort to check in once, at the very least, during the 8 squandered hours I spent in the emergency room. I was loathe to believe having a torn scrotum was punishment enough. It looked like a tight vagina beneath my penis. My spewed curses circulated around the subject of the lost job and the gaining of a vagina. Now I check my horoscope the night before despite being called a poof. I already had a makeshift cunt. Katherine happened the role of my P.I.C. (partner in crime) today, of which I deemed affectionate because she was lucid for once.
During the second time Katherine drove us back to the printing place that day, I noticed a woman I wanted to meet. Katherine and I had to go back a second time because I had forgotten which folder I’d saved the resume into. Also, I’d forgotten the USB drive to print it from. The woman I wanted to meet wasn’t present the first time, fortunately, but had missed a joke I had cracked earlier. I debated cracking the same joke again, but I feared everyone else possibly catching onto my scheme. She had a poster of fractal art printed. I wanted to meet her anyway. I printed 3 copies of my resume which came to a total of twenty-three cents I almost didn’t have. I said quite audibly, ‘thank God for pennies,’ because it seemed like it could have been funny and winning at the time. I fled soon after. I thought, now she’ll never know that a complete stranger had fallen unconditionally in love with her and her eccentricities for 5 whole minutes today, and it didn’t cost nearly as much as my resumes had. This made me sad, but soon I remembered how I had to do important stuff instead.

That’s what I said! Girls hate each other these days. It’s all war.” replied Katherine as she lit a cigarette, sending a text to her boyfriend, all while maneuvering her car through traffic. Katherine saw something another girl had posted on Facebook in which she regarded with as being, ‘stupid as shit!’
“The sisterhood is a sham,” I said blankly, pressing buttons in her car, “bro-mance is true though. Platonic friendships are totally possible. But, only until some bitch wiggles her way in. That’s the only way I’ve lost homies I didn’t want to ignore.”
“They always do. Fuckin’ always do. They’re so childish; it freaks me 
the fuck out. They come in as a girl first, but they always exit as a bitch. I can’t stand girls. Always scheming.” she agreed. Then she giggled at a text her boyfriend replied to her. Probably a happy face or how much he misses her or both, I thought enviously of them. Katherine had the mind of a man in the body of a Playboy Bunny; I enjoy bouncing ideas with her and being envied by other guys that happened to see us hanging out in public. When she’s lucid.
“I blame Civil Rights. Race-wise, equality, of course.” I said still diddling the buttons.
“Yeah, course.”
“But now that women are empowered, the end of days is nigh and shit. …Do any of these buttons do anything?”
“Oh, they’re broken …and that’s bullshit. Women should be empowered.”
“I’m not saying they should still have the lack of rights they did back in the good ol’ days,” I took a breath and thought about restating the set of words I had just uttered but changed my mind, “I’m saying that some of the more fem-friendly laws should be revised.”
“And so they can live in fear of men again?! What the fuck, Danny?!” Katherine shouted.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. There are so many effeminate dudes out there now, have you seen a movie recently? Seriously. I feel pretty emasculated on a daily basis …sometimes. Only sometimes. But I’m saying 
revised so that the men don’t have to live in fear of women… like we’re doing now.” I said with an unconvincingly subtle staccato.
We pulled up to the restaurant that I needed to hand my resume to. Katherine abruptly parked. It was almost like slamming a door. I trembled. The ergonomical strategist that is my mind jacked up the price of courage when I needed it, despite having realized my mind was what I needed my courage to defend against. It reminded me of my middle school gym coach who encouraged me to lose weight by referencing large animals when he called upon me. I’d have been okay with ridicule if I had a drink then. The courage of a lion came to me with only a single beer, even. This was because my indecencies would be forgiven and found funny instead. But I was dry right now. My indecencies became unforgivable. My opines became misanthropic, even when they were philanthropic. My sardonically toned insight was mistaken for pompousness, My ass will be handed to me again. But Katherine knew me well enough, I hoped not soon enough.
“BULLSHIT. You lean towards misogyny because of that ex-cunt of yours.” she said monotonously.
“She, uh…actually, stopped mattering a while back …actually. I just think 
neither gender should live in fear, but …bitches have more power.”
“We’ve earned it.”
“Sure …did. Yes. Sure did.”
“We aren’t abusing it like men have in the past. We’re surrounded by little bitches.” Katherine stated absolutely. Then she took a breath. “Fuck it. This is about how we need to get those managers into thinking you’re worth hiring. Danny, go hand in your fucking resume to the manager. Be persistent. Sound confident. You’re gonna need to try very hard, but I’m here. I got your back. You need to have the kind of confidence like you do when you pick up a chick at a bar.”
“Right.” I said after a moment. Was I to trick them into believing I had any worth, I wondered. I feel I’ve wondered this too many times.
I got out of the car and walked toward the entrance. I decidedly omitted the fact I had never successfully picked up a chick at a bar because I Katherine would have growled at me some more. I’d seen a thousand movies on the subject anyway, I thought, it didn’t seem difficult to be an ass with a hard-on. I turned back to look at Katherine as she encouragingly pointed at the entrance, like television mothers did to disobedient kids. Through the back window I saw her mouth the words, ‘
be confident, you little bitch.‘ I took a breath and began walking. I thought briefly of the cunt-shaped hole I had in my ball sack, then decided Katherine had actually been an excellent choice for a P.I.C. I was the most uninspired person I knew, but I feared Katherine enough to effort otherwise. This kept me mentally acute in constantly revising my thoughts before expounding them through my teeth. As a matter of fact, I still don’t know which gender she was and/is liege to, though I had never really cared for the rights of either party.

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beer or beef

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Money or taking it easy, that’s what we have dictating our lives in place of a bible, the all-time best seller. I’ve heard that line [taking it easy] so many times, only to find swine chime it mentally and never knew what it meant, like the bluff at the poker table. Just fold cause you’ve lost.  The coarse and the fine are friends who never pick up the tab in your one act life, and they never forget their lines. The “take it easy” proverb is as empty as the pitcher.

Money comes with the constitution of your work, in most cases, and depend on it. Perseverance in this fish-eat-fish world (never seen a dog eat another dog) through labor and, since extreme measures of population control have not been [officially] devised, most of us with warm blood in our veins, will hitherto, labor amongst shit jobs. Those who aren’t subjected to that kind of life experience don’t understand the majesty of eat in a 1$ carne asada taco after 3 days of rationed saltines, or worse, tell you they do with the utmost conviction in their eye. As far as I’m concerned, the shit-job title only regards some kind of septic disposal. But that’s me being idealistic.

I’ve cleaned the vomit off the floor around the toilet seat at work after last call and winning a sympathy pint, I’ve fed the homeless while filling my ‘s homeless people served quota, published on both sides of the Atlantic, and as a high schooler slept with the most beautiful sophomore I’d ever seen, very tender and statutory. If this job sustains your life our keeps you going, this by default, is a part of you, from capitalized letter to the period. “Take it easy? Google and CNN says you’re a fucken’ liar.”

Take it easy is easy enough to taunt to the working class, but I’m two weeks late on my car payment for a car that I need to get a new battery for, my physiology mid-term that’ll decide if I can transfer into that university I don’t want to go to is in a few hours, the future of Afghanistan, and gas went up 3 cents! I’ll tell you what I’ll take; a refill on my prescription that’ll cost me a car battery.

Yeah, I’m just spitting out words, I’m really just too much of a spineless coward to, well, have any convictions pertaining to anything of substance. I mean, I like my steak rare, neither my beer nor cigarettes to be light, and the gallop of a horse. But I’ll never vote left or right, nor try to convince you. But you think my vote will cost your liberties. My vote will take your easy from you. It won’t, humanity will never take it easy as long as there’s someone standing to your left or your right. Rid one, and another always comes, standing where you once were.

I’ll take it easy by lying down, even if I’m the only one, but even I know I’ll have to get up to take a shit if I wanna go back to lying down. You’ll join me sooner our later, so why bust my balls now and look stupid later?

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Leaving your baby mama while she’s pregnant means you don’t get to name it when you go back to her in roughly sixteen months. You’re stuck with that. Sixteen months is the average time for fellow hipster dudes to accept fatherhood. Pro’s about that are, they’ve taken the time necessary to restructure the imperative circumstances surrounding their lives, and without feeling like they were pressured into doing so. The con’s are, and I apologize, you ladies’ have to go through the beginning stages alone. Unless you have good friends whom you know the last names of (not through Facebook.) Those are the ones that stick around, not, but don’t worry, if you made a good friend over Facebook, chances are, you don’t know their middlename yet. There’s still hope for you. For guys, if your bro’s haven’t complained to you about a certain girl, (not girls in general) you’re not in yet. Men seem to use women as classificational objects, in this is the easiest way to pinpoint where your head is on the bro’tem pole.

Anyway, I’ve seen plenty of guys shoved into fatherhood, and I’ve seen more battling with the concept. Some relieved to discover and cheer these words: it ain’t mine, muthaf*cka! That already says plenty about the male mentality behind it, especially between the ages of 22 to 32. And no ladies, your man can’t be mo’ mature like your friend, Kim’s man, he’s as mature as you found him. The more single he’s been in life, his chances of being mature are higher. Believe me on this wizardry, and if you don’t, it’s probably because you’re too pretty, or haven’t turned 28 yet. There are tons of great guys you complain about never meeting, while your friend Pete without the vagina is picking up white cheddar Cheezits and his director’s cut copy of In Her Shoes to show up at your cold K-town apartment loft because you were too sick to do anything today. (Yes that loft is pre-baby, have you breathed North Korean air? Korea Town air, I mean.)

For the guys shoved into the pit of fatherhood, you did this, you finish it. If ever there was a bigger wake-up call than this to take hold of your life, this is it. Your recklessness obviously didn’t do you any good, did it? The plus side, your baby momma is probably still a stone cold fox, would you feel good if your kid called another MILF hunter, Daddy? Nah, that would piss me the f*ck off too. Sh*t that don’t make sense piss me the f*ck off. F*ck! Sh*t! Motherf*cker! Wait, you could be that motherf*cker, you lucky son of a f*ck! So suck it up, you’re not the one guy in the world that’s ever gone through this.

(Just catch her cheating and your hands are clean! That’s a more level-headed approach, I think. Just looking out for my boys too. You girls are too smart, it ain’t fair.)

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National Geographic is Being Too Graphic

First came the uni-brow, then the club. Kings of bashers we were, then the weird cousin discovered flame, scared the shit out of us, then discovered the shit we bashed the shit out of was delicioso under weirdo cousin’s fire. Open Bashin’ Shit restaurant, and traded for goodies. Got babytooth necklace back once, my baby tooth from uncle Argh. Uncle Argh sad but glad with neanderthal chorizo. Things we live is easy. Take woman, Make tiny-me’s.

After millions of fun-filled years, the hunter-gatherer men spawned us men; brighter, well-dressed and killed with axes and swords, (I’d prefer an axe because that’s just awesome to slay anything with, even Tres Leche cake,) but we still kept our women to ourselves. Like our treasures we find in the sand at the beach only to keep it hidden and protected in a Reebok shoebox in the back of the closet at mom’s place, slowly being disregarded until forgotten and to your surprise, grows feet and disappears. *gasp*

Here’s the thing; women aren’t property or prizes, in fact, it was because of them that we’ve advanced this far. Neanderthals killed to feed their women in order to keep them, (I’m sure there was competition, not because neanderhipstergirl was hot, but when one man wants something, they all want it. The animals do it too, except they killed and killed damn good, gang fights and MMA and/or Mortal Kombat started here,) and if they didn’t, another would. That’s the way it’s always been. Now that the Civil Movement has happened, 19th amendment, and everyone can vote now, women have been on the brink of discovering their superiority. Female praying mantis’ already know it, (killin’ the dude after the best one-night-stand ever,) some spiders break off the male penis to plug up her own fun-holes, to reproduce only once. Human women can take half your shit now, your vintage record collection you just started, the books you didn’t write your name in when you moved in together… and even the dog, the one you brought with you because you needed a best friend to listen to your shit without judging you. Does that sound completely unfair? Or does it sound like karma? Are we as men so desensitized that we act surprised if a girl flexes? They can, you know. Equal rights means they can kick as much ass as us men do, except they’re much smarter than we are.

The next time you immerse yourself into an argument with your girlfriend or wife or top bed share-holder, it’s not because she doesn’t love you. I know this one to be a fact; to us guys, these random fights are random and you think she’s crazy, but these random fights actually happen because they’ve changed in some way, and grew. Men don’t change, we just get older. She probably thinks you’re a pussy. In this reasoning, women have at least million years of growing to catch up on. They’re just smarter and faster, and still us men will find a reason to call it an unfair match.

We, men, only have each other to cheer, but do you think we’ll get anything accomplished with all-male cheerleaders? The answer is a very obvious no, even I would be too distracted. (That’s why I only get my advice from women I believe are the equivalent of generals, maybe captains too, because I know that if I can’t beat them, I’m better off joining them. And also, I have nothing against male cheerleaders, you guys are great, better dancers sometimes too. It’s better just to say you’re on the other team, I think.)

Just find solace in knowing you will never understand a woman, even the one you’ve been with the last four years or two and a half weeks. No record in history was there ever a [straight] man who understood them… and lived. Maybe Chuck Norris or the Dos Equis guy, I think his name is Maxwell. Maxwell and Chuck Norris can do it, but can we ever be like them? Fuck no, so don’t try to understand women but have a flavor-infused Dos Equis beer, which is on sale at your local CVS for $5.49 a six-pack. What a deal!! Two exclamation points! Anyway, admire the gem of a woman you do have like a perfectly cooked steak. Rare, but seared just right on both sides and know that not everyone will see the steak like that, but they’ll eat it if they get a chance. Some want theirs medium, or well-done, but the whole dilio is not guaranteed to appease your taste buds, so don’t expect it to. Move with it or move it. After all, they keep us going, despite the preconceived transgression. Us men seem to grow only after our hearts have been hurt and are left a-bleedin’, but that also means that you were too late. Walk it off.

she loved him till death, because he never tried to understand her.

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