I just can't narrow it down to one...

Sitting down to write today was difficult. Sometimes there are days when I just can’t think of anything to flesh out, so I’m just going to use this empty internet-space to jot down a few things that are on my mind. Maybe I’ll come back one day and look at them and elaborate. But right now I can’t be bothered, I have much more important stuff to do like sleep at work:

I hate the Yankees. I also hate the Red Sox. Why? Not that the teams are bad or the players, but it’s the fans really. It’s those people that feel like baseball owes them something for their team winning. That no other team, ever, will be as good as them. The real issue is that many Yankee and Red Sox fans aren’t fans of baseball at all. They can’t talk to you about another player on another team that isn’t on the team they watch. If Joe Schmo pitches a perfect game for Nowheresville, Idaho, they will retort with, “Yea? Well Josh Beckett pitched 6 innings last night.” Or, “A-Rod is really in a slump, huh?” They are all front-runners that love the team they love because they love to root for winners. What happens the first year that Yankees don’t make the playoffs? The team decides to move, get a new stadium, and the fans proceed to destroy what is left of the building they claim to love. And OK, I know they were moving anyhow, but still, how many of those fans would have ripped seats out of the ground if they were expecting to sit there in the World Series. They love to love the winner, but will never love the loser. And Red Sox fans might even be worse. The day after the Red Sox won their first World Series in something like 8,000 years, there were hundreds of people wearing Red Sox hats, walking around, claiming to be their fan for life. Meanwhile, they couldn’t name more than 3 players. Being a Yankee or Red Sox fan is a fad. It’s the cool thing to do. It’s what everyone else is doing.

Person 1: “You watching the Red Sox V. Yankee game tonight?”
Person 2: “Of course. Me and a couple friends are going out to the bar and having some drinks while we play pool and shoot darts.”
Person 1: “Who do you think is going to win?”
Person 2: “I don’t know. Who’s pitching again? And What time is the game on?”

The fans don’t care about the game, only that they know saying they do makes them fit in. If you don’t care about baseball, don’t have a favorite team. Don’t put messages in your profile saying your excited about the championship game if you can’t name three teams they beat to get there. The same goes for hockey too. But then again, hockey shouldn’t even be a sport in the first place.

I hate blogs. What makes anyone think their thoughts are worth another person’s time to read? And most of them are about nothing (Except this one, which is filled with useful information of course). But are there people that sit around all day, looking up and reading random people’s blogs. Is anyone going to ever stumble across this one and think it’s worth a repeat visit? Not likely. The truth is blogs are all because people hope. They exist for the same reason people play the lotto. Because maybe, just maybe, Bill Gates is looking to hire a new blogger for Microsoft and is searching the internet for just the right writer to pay half a billion dollars to write for him. But basically they are silly. Why not just keep a diary and have it be personal.
The same goes for facebook and myspace. No one cares what pictures people post are who they met the day before. No one, besides the people that already know them, care what their favorite movies are or what quote has meaning. People are on facebook and myspace to be found. Our entire generation was born with the idea that they are important. That every single person deserves to be famous and on TV. And that’s why people are on social networks , have blogs, and post on youtube. It is instant fame. Or the chance for instant fame. We all think we have the born-given right to be someone important, and by putting our name and favorite food, daily ramblings or video commentary on politics, that someone will discover us and finally give us that chance we know we deserve. But what are the odds?

The weather is stupid. It just keeps changing. Why can’t it just make up its mind already and pick on temperature to stay with. All these changes are making me sick.

How come stamps cost so much? Why do I even need to mail things anymore anyhow. Sure I can do everything online these days, but some things require you to mail them back in. What if I want to not be part of the U.S. postal service mailing list anymore? What if I want to take my name off the radar? How could they make me pay taxes then?
I was recently registering to vote, and I was given a post card that I needed to fill out with some of my information. And after it was complete I noticed that I had to mail it in. I will repeat that in case you read over it: I had to mail in a letter to vote in the United States election. Don’t you think that the White House and the U.S. Postal Service could get together just this once and find a way to void the 43 cents I would need to vote??

Why does everything that tastes really good bad for you?? But seriously. How come cauliflower doesn’t taste like ice cream and broccolis isn’t the same flavor as pepperoni pizza? Why does soda rot your teeth but an apple a day keeps the doctor away? Why is crack rock so good, but deadly (OK that last part wasn’t serious….I’ve never done crack….honest)? But really, what in our brain decides that sugar and salt and fatty things are so delicious, but things filled with vitamins and minerals generally tastes like ash tray, or worse, filled ash tray?

Albert Einstein said it was impossible travel back in time. In order to do so, one would need to travel faster than the speed of light, and apparently that is impossible. But what it, in a billion, trillion, zillioin years, someone, somehow figures out how to break the speed of light and in turn, discovers how to travel through time. How do YOU know you NEVER read this before?

Jay-Z is for Lovers

I don’t get what all the kids are talking about anymore. I used to be hip. I use to be able to pick up any jive they be putting down, but now I feel old. I’m 22!! Music has gone steadily downhill through the years, or is it that I’m just now stuck in the ‘90s as that’s when I began listening to music. Am I THAT guy now that only listens to things they grew up with? Have I become what I have found as perfect fodder for old-people bashing throughout the years?

Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Rage Against the Machine. All great bands, but can they now be set aside with the likes of Zeppelin, The Beatles, Miles Davis and Sebastian Bach (the good one that pre-dated reality TV)? I turn on MTV and I’m struck with the beautiful faces of the Jonas Brothers. If they are currently being compared to the Beatles, is it that this generation’s taste has been deluded more than our drinking water or are my ears too filled with old-man hair to hear the music?

And who decided the Jonas Brothers would even be worthy of a second listen? They’re everywhere. On commercials, on the radio, on billboards, in my dreams. EVERYWHERE!!

But rap is a different story all together. Rap is timeless. Biggie and 2Pac are just as good now as they were before they faked their own deaths. OK so maybe rap has been watered down with all the Puffys, or Diddys or B. Shittys, and with 50 Cent selling his soul along with every item of clothing, cologne, soft drink, video game and adult diaper you can imagine. But 60 years from now, I’ll still be listening to my iPod, while my grandchildren listen to the audio/video chip implanted in their brains at birth, and rocking out to Wu-Tang. But will the Killer Bees be just another fad, like disco, sliced bread or computers?

Can you imagine your grandparents listening to rap?

I Hate Being Sick!!

I can’t for the life of me figure out when getting sick stopped being fun. There was a point in my life where being sick meant sleeping in late, missing school and having people bring me my food. In fact, I loved being sick so much that I often attempted to fake it every chance I had. But note from the wise, NEVER attempt to put the thermometer next to a lamp in hopes of raising the temperature. All you’ll get is one broken thermometer and one puddle of mercury on the floor. And that is why I will always miss my cat Sniffles. May he rest in mercury-free Heaven.

But somewhere along the timeline of life, being sick was more of a hassle than an enjoyment. Not only do I feel the weight of death upon my shoulders each and every time, but I am left with the toss-up between staying in bed, hacking up lung and sneezing out brain plus missing work (aka ~ money – missing work is not the problem, it’s missing my next meal), or going about my day and responsibilities while construction road work is being performed inside my head and sweat drips down my brow like scraps out of Rosie O’Donnell’s mouth at Thanksgiving. It’s just too much work being ill. Besides, there’s only so much Nyquil a person can take before they’re having flashbacks of shooting Charlie in ‘Nam. I WASN’T EVEN IN NAM!!

But the worst part about being sick for me is the fact that I can no longer be a hypochondriac. Every day I fill my time with wondering if that paper cut will turn gangrenous or if that hiccup is actually Polio. But when I’m sick all I can worry about is when I will die and how come it’s taking so long already. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cold, the flu or Scarlett Fever, every sniffle I get is a sign from Death. I lay in bed, not because I need rest, but because it would be easier to have my Death Bed and my Sleep Bed be in the same place.

I Don’t Even Like Lemonade

“When God hands you lemons, make lemonade,” is the dumbest quote ever created. It hardly takes into account all those allergic to citrus, or with diabetes. Not to mention those physically unable to make a sour puss. So hence (Yeah! Hence!!), the quote is really about how those lucky enough to be handed lemons in the first place need to then make sure they can actually make the lemonade. What if they have no hands God? What about those people??

And who gets handed lemons anyhow? I’ve been given socks as a present before and that’s bad enough. But lemons? That’s like asking for trouble. If you (or God for that matter) ever decided to hand me lemons, I’m going to hand them a helmet, because I’m certainly going to start throwing.

Life is sort of funny some times. And I say “sort of,” because it’s not really. Sure there’s irony. Like stubbing your toe on a jagged rock moments before falling over the side of a quarter-mile high cliff. But that’s just God telling you He thinks it’s funny when he proves that all your feeblest attempts at preparation are moot, and He’s going to prove it to you in an often humorous manner.

But God’s not all brimstone and Hell fire. He fills life with plenty of paper-cuts, bad hair cuts and name-calling. I guess when God, Jesus, Santa, Chuck Norris, St. Michael and that other guy were sitting around in the beginning of time, having a few laughs and tossing a few back, they decided to add pain to the shopping list of emotions. Physical and emotional. Not that one is worse than the other, it’s just that my health insurance doesn’t pay for hurt feelings.

But this posting shouldn’t be all about the negative. Life isn’t always rainy days and Armageddon. I mean, in reality, lemonade tastes pretty good when you add 3 cups of sugar. And even stubbing your toe isn’t so bad, as long as there was already a pesky hang nail that wouldn’t come loose. And even the apocalypse can have its upside, so long as you overcharge your credit card, steal money from some bookies, and spit on your boss the day before.

I don’t want to depress all my readers though (Anyone??). This isn’t being written in the dark as I nurse a bottle of Jack and listen to Taps under my blankie. It’s just being written from inside the confines of my place of employment. Hell hath no fury like a job hated.
And why is it that eight hours feels like a blink of the eye when you’re sleeping? But when you’re stuck within the 4x4 walls of a cubicle that same eight hours takes approximately the next 40 years of your life (or until you die, whichever comes first)?

Anyhow, the moral of the story is play the lotto…..OFTEN!!

So this is the first time I am ever sitting down to write a blog. Not that I usually write them while standing, but nevertheless, this is my first. And as a virgin entry I figured I would take this time to discuss my hatred for people. Well, most people. Not YOU of course, I like you. You are reading my blog, so that automatically makes you an enjoyable person. But those other people, the ones not reading my blog of course.

People generally stink. They are ignorant and dumb. Stupid and greedy. People drive slowly in the fast lane and refuse to say "thank you" when you hold the door for them. These are the same people that invented the nuclear bomb for Heaven's sake. People just suck (Not YOU though).

I'm not sure what it takes a person to do for me not to want to strangle them with my own shoe laces, but I doubt it would take much. If people, as a whole, decided to send me one dollar each, perhaps then my attitude would shift. But that will never happen, and I can appropriately blame it on the fact that people just suck.

But don't get me wrong. It's not ALL people that suck (as stated previously, YOU are one of the good ones). However, people are worthless. I cannot recall a single time that people did anything for me. Not one time have people baked me a pecan pie or saved me from the onslaught of a flaming school bus full of children. In general people just sit around, watch TV, go to work, eat at restaurants and pay their taxes. I mean how can any reasonable person put up with such atrocities. I suppose the fundamental reason people suck is that they just don't see the world the same way as I do. They don't think like me, act like me, talk like me. They don't make the same jokes or have the same interests. People are not me. Not that I'm some incredible person. Far from it. But I like me. Me is good. You is good. But it's the people that are not.

If I was walking along the beach tomorrow and stumbled across a magical genie lamp, and the genie came out and said, "Hoy! How goes there? I'm a genie, fool, and I got a wish for you, if you want," I'd go, "Heck yea!" and proceed to wish for all people to go away. Because with all people gone, that would only leave me and you. Making we. And we is good as well.

......And that is how I will save Christmas!