Friday, November 27, 2009

The essential guide to speaking Italian

(click to enlarge)

Mom can get a new TV

I just received a letter in the mail from Bank of America stating that if I fill out their form I can receive up to $500.00 if I were to have an accidental death.

Bank of America, what the fuck.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

The Pittsburgh Thanksgiving

This is my second Thanksgiving away from home and somehow I always feel guilty about not spending it with my paternal family in Pennsylvania. This might be due to the constant reminders I receive when I do spend time with them, about how I don't spend time with them. Confused? Yeah, me too.

With the exception of St. Patrick's Day, I have never been the enthusiastic one when it comes to a holiday. I love the seasonal experience that accompanies a holiday, but the actual event always seems to fall limp. "Yeah this is nice to be off of work, but why isn't anything else open? What the fuck am I supposed to do with the rest of my day? Spend it with you guys? I dont think so."

I spend most of my Thanksgivings in Pittsburgh. These were enjoyable when I was younger but became increasingly awkward as I matured. Having been removed from this experience two years in a row, I have finally let my guilt subside and have come to terms with my holiday apathy. Its simply something I have grown out of. I would say I probably have more in common with Arbor day. "Rob, how can you say that?! A holiday with food and family?!"

Okay then, lets start with the food. I like simplicity. I could deal with just turkey and gravy but Thanksgiving is a culinary orgy. Everything is a version of a casserole with arbitrary names like 'gibbler' that don't explain what I am eating. Why is this corn in my bread then mashed into pudding? Ham and olive pieces incased in jello? Why are there marshmallows melted on my potatoes? I think what I dislike most is the fact that Thanksgiving includes every food except the one I love most: cheese. Isn't this an American holiday? Wheres the cheese?

Now the family part. The last time I had Thanksgiving in Pittsburgh I was 20-years-old and still sat at the separate white fold-out card table with my cousin Matt, his unwed baby momma Danielle and their three kids, two still in diapers. Not to mention the awkward conversions I have with my yellow-toothed uncle. As I alternate my breaths with his in order to avoid what I imagine smells like a salmon's pussy coming from his mouth, I am forced to hear about his one friend that did a commercial one time, and how I should totally get in touch with him.

So instead of investing the time and energy into traveling and soaking up the small talk this holiday season, I did things my own way. I woke up at 10:45 am, watched three minutes of the Macy's parade where an obscure country star sang on a rainbow float sponsored by Jimmy Deans, masturbated twice, then went to Subway and got a foot long turkey and provolone. And my night may include a Domino's Mac and Cheese Bread Bowl and an episode of Survivor. But lets not get too excited.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Infoslut

When I meet someone for the first time its hard to get a good first impression. I concentrate way too hard on how I am behaving to even remotely care about them. But after a few encounters we all tend to slump back into who we really are, and within the third or fourth meeting those annoying usual habits creep in. I am sharper with noticing some human habits but am completely oblivious to others.

That's usually when a friend will fill me in on how annoying Amanda's vowel sounds are, and it now becomes the most obvious part about Amanda. Or how Craig cant keep his storytelling skills on track and spends too much time in the details. I have gotten better at noticing these things, and in the grand scheme of things, they arent that big of a deal. If Amanda has a great sense of humor I dont care about her odd vowels. If Craig is hot, then he can still tell his shitty stories. More important things will usually trump the minor faults in friends, and I would hope others would apply the same philosophy with my traits.

But there is one personality trait I wont be friends with. No one seems to notice this feature except for me and it drives me crazy. I can spot this within minutes of knowing someone, and without over exaggerating, its hard for me to even look them in the eye after recognizing it. They become less of a person to me. Its the type of person who will hear or read about an fact, story, or event, then pass that information off as if they created it, saw it first hand, or know more about it than you do. This person is an infoslut.

I am unsure why infosluts are so hard to spot, as you are probably friends with one and don't even know it. Though I have known infosluts my entire life, I will give a recent example.

About two weeks ago I was at a new friend's house with his roommate and his other friend while they carved pumpkins. Lets call the friend Zoeytits. Zoeytits was an infoslut. She sat on the ground with her milky white, fat thighs crossed indian style as she carved her pumpkin. Things were just spewing from this girls mouth- from facts about the human body to rumors about the new Sex and the City sequel. It wasnt the things she was saying, it was her delivery. As if she spoke to Kim Cattrall's vagina personally and it whispered dirty secrets about the film.

When Zoeytits left to either get a drink of water or take a huge dump (Im not sure which, but I will assume it was the latter) I looked at my friend and his roommate and said, "You guys have to be kidding. You don't notice how bat shit crazy this girl is? She is literally repeating last week's E! News as if she hosted it herself." They didn't know what I was talking about. The only response I got was something along the lines of "No, it just comes off like that. Shes just a really, really smart girl." No, she wasn't.

Janeane Garofolo once said "As actors, it is our responsibility to read the newspapers, and then say what we read on television like it's our own opinion." Granted, it was a parodied puppet version of Janeane Garofolo, but the point is still valid. You cant just read or watch something then state it as if you were the source of the information.

Another type of infoslut you may run into is of the social variety. Lets call him Frankenfag. Frankenfag didnt go to that crazy party, but will (over)hear everyone talk about it the next day. When he finds himself in a group of people who arent aware of the crazy shit that happened, he will dramatically explain the night in detail, usually adding "it was insane!" This is the time where I wish someone would step in and say "Frankenfag, you weren't there." But it doesn't happen. Not even in this scenario I just made up. Because that's just how much these people suck.

In a small way you have to hand it to these infosluts. It takes a lot of energy to commit to a half-assed story or blab re-packaged celebrity gossip in a way that makes us believe you are very informed. That being said we probably wont hang out again. I missed Survivor for this.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Diamonds also make a great blanket

A Russian car manufacturer is creating an SUV that will cost $1.5 million.


Among its features are gold plated bullet proof windows, bulletproof wheels, tungsten exhaust, white gold gauges with diamonds and rubies, a white gold diamond and ruby encrusted grill, and a matching Vertu phone.

I think its ironic that it comes with a Vertu phone, because thats exactly what I thought of when I read about this car. Its the equivalent of the Vertu- a shit ton of gold and diamonds on a navy blue Nokia 3210 circa 2003. Doesn't luxury imply comfort? Since when is a gem-studded grill luxurious? It drives and feels exactly the same as any other grill.

But the best part is the interior, which is actually made from whale penis. Im serious- whale penis leather interior. Getting into a hot car is miserable enough with a searing seat belt clip and thick air. Now you have to deal with the stench of the two worst smells combined: balls and the ocean. Stinky, hot dried whale penis skin... this isn't my idea of luxury. If I am blowing $1.5 million its going to be like Blank Check, not some faggy car.

Since luxury is now a synonym for absurdity, I can only imagine what will be in version 2.0 of this SUV. The stereo knobs will be made of the calcium extracts from celebrity abortions and the exterior paint will be from Mother Teresa's preserved period blood, not from concentrate.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Home is where the hostility is

Pam, el madre, loves when I am back home in Brick, New Jersey. Its something she will never flatly state because a) she sincerely wants me to do well here in Chicago and b) doesn't want to be a mother with both her kids living at home. But she sincerely loves whenever I am home. Its a concept that I dont seem to understand. Because even when it comes to a visit, I hate it.

When I go back to New Jersey I regress at least 10 years. Its like my mother cant fathom the concept of an adult son. I can spend four years living by myself (including a semester in another country) and she still doesn't think I know how to do laundry or what a social security number is. We will watch Jeopardy and she will be shocked when I know a character from a novel or a well-known historical fact. I usually get a non-verbal reaction akin to "Good boy!"

The funniest part of it all is that when I am further away we actually get along. We will talk to each other every few days, keeping conversations interesting by automatically editing out the trivial stuff. Suddenly when I am at home visiting she is calling me every five minutes from work, stopping into my room for no reason, asking when I am going to be home, etc. These annoying habits get under my skin after about a day into my visit, causing me to flip out and verbally assault her.

"Rob, what do you want for dinner?"
"GO AWAY!
"I was just asking-"
"JESUS WOMAN, SHUT UP!"

After the visit I go back to my own apartment and everything is back to normal. Our phone calls are pleasant and fun. But I still know, deep down, she would prefer I was at home. There can only be conclusion derived from this, and it confirms a thought I have speculated since birth.

Women love abuse.

4 ways to fit in with the gay crowd

Ive never had gay friends before. Its an unfortunate situation for me, but there are many reasons why this has occurred. Lets travel back in time when I was seven or eight.

(Rob is coming home from the Brick Township Public Library in the car with his mother. Come To My Window plays on the radio)
Me: "I like this song!"
Mom: "Yeah me too, but..."
Me: "What?"
Mom: "Well its not a bad song..."
Me: "Oh?"
Mom: "But you hear all those pretty lyrics and cant appreciate them... shes singing about another woman."

"Another woman" was whispered even though we were in the car, alone. Like somehow the dykes would hear us and throw strap-ons and Nalgene bottles at our mini-van.

Anyway, Ive been living in Lakeview with the gays and its been pretty enlightening. For instance, who knew gays talk about cock a lot? Surprisingly, they also talk about vaginas just as much. If you plan on getting gay friends anytime soon, you need to know some pointers to avoid being rejected from the group. I'm here to help.

1. Laugh at everything they say
The number one way to show that you have a good sense of humor is not to express yourself, but rather remind them how funny they are. Unless it originally came from Rachel Zoe's mouth, they probably dont think youre funny, so save the energy. You will only get the gays respect if you laugh the fuck out of everything they say. But wait, isnt that awkward to laugh at things that arent intended to be funny? Nope. If a gay can get a laugh out of anything they will take it. Trust me.

2. Tell them they deserve their own reality show
Gays love one thing more than cum and Kathy Griffin, and thats themselves. Once you understand this concept everything will become much easier. Telling them they need to have a reality show does two things: 1) confirms their own long established belief, and 2) implies that they are somewhat attractive enough to warrant a show. Bingo.

3. Let them grope you
If you are not a huge fan of strangers touching you, then dont even bother being friends with gay people. This one is especially true if you are hairy. Gay men will flock to your hairy chest like lesbians to granola bars. The worst thing you can do at this point is to swat them away, which suggests that you are no fun.

4. When all else fails, be a black girl
Okay, so you have bombed miserably with your first group of gay friends. If you still want to salvage whatever good impression you can then you have to suck it up and do what comes totally unnaturally to you. Act like a black girl. Say 'girl' before everything, quote Bon Qui Qui, be a character of the Housewives of Atlanta - anything will work at this point. This seems to say "Im just like you."

Or you can just have a big dick. That works too.