Let’s make some resolutions

Patch Adams combines all the fun of clowns with cancer.

Here’s the life update you’ve been waiting for: The idea for my new comic book series didn’t take off quite like I expected it to.

Long story short, I spent months meticulously drawing my comic book, holed up in my room, taking breaks only to eat, drink, and play 16 hours of video games a day. Once I was done writing the first issue, I sent it to every major publisher I know. (Editor’s note: I sent it to 1 publisher.) I was sure to include the following pitch:

The Douchebag League follows the adventures of four douchebags as they travel the world and save it from every threat, including monsters, supervillains, and dudes who play World of Warcraft. When they’re not saving the world, they bang freshman girls. I’ve enclosed a drawing of one of the scenes in which Captain Affliction Shirt woos and subsequently bangs a freshman girl. You can keep it.

Sounds like a pretty compelling pitch, right? It took me a long time to write that pitch. I watched Dead Poets Society five times before I even started, just to make sure I was inspired. (Editor’s note: Bonus inspiration – that movie is full of douchebags.) I even had my friend Barry proofread it. He never got back to me, though. He just took the drawing and went home and I haven’t seen him since.

But still, soundly rejected and the proud recipient of multiple cease and desist letters.

The way I see it, 2013 is a new year. (Editor’s note: That is 100% true.) Now I’ve never been one to make resolutions, mostly because I’m a free spirit and I can’t be tied down by some commitment I made a few days ago just because the calendar changed. Yeah, I said I’d eat healthy, but that was before I knew my mom was making chocolate chip cookies. (Editor’s note: Resolve to have Mom make more chocolate chip cookies.) But 2013 is a big deal because we weren’t even supposed to be here for it. (Editor’s note: In your face, Mayans.)

Barry said I should resolve to move out of my Mom’s house this year. That seems noble, but I can’t afford to live by myself and Barry won’t let me move in with him because he says I can’t afford to pay rent and there’s this girl next door he really likes and he just thinks I’d probably get in the way. I told him it’s not a problem and wondered if maybe she has some friends or something that wouldn’t mind if I hit it and quit it and he hung up on me. And since Barry’s really the only other person I know who isn’t homeless, I figure I’ll just chill at my mom’s for a little while longer until I meet the woman of my dreams. (Editor’s note: The woman of my dreams is a mermaid with a house I can live in.)

Anyway, here’s my working list of resolutions:

1. Watch Dead Poets Society
2. Become best friends with Robin Williams
3. Convince Robin Williams to star in my sequel to “Patch Adams”
4. Have Robin Williams write, produce and direct my sequel to “Patch Adams”
5. See if Robin Williams knows Anne Hathaway
6. Have Robin Williams convince Anne Hathaway to go on a date with the guy who got Robin Williams to write, produce, direct and star in the sequel to “Patch Adams” and she doesn’t have to commit to going back to my place later or anything but maybe we can have a nice dinner and go mini-golfing and just kind of see where the night takes us. (Editor’s note: It takes us back to my place.)
7. Learn to make pizza from scratch

So, cool, I have 1 of 7 done already and the year just started. At this pace, I’ll be done by mid-February and can just spend the rest of the year chilling out.

It’s Funday Monday!

What a douche.

A few years ago, my friend Barry and I saw this great movie called “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Seeing this movie resulted in two things:

1. It started my own personal cold war with Matthew Broderick. It would have been a real war, but the stupid government wouldn’t let me get a gun because my background check wasn’t up to snuff. Apparently if you accidentally point a realistic looking toy gun at a flight attendant demanding peanuts “now or everyone on board’s going to get it!” one time, it sticks with you forever.
2. It made Barry and me realize that we weren’t really maximizing our potential and living life to its fullest. In fact, while Ferris was faking sick to stay away from school, we were doing everything we could to be at the school because nobody serves hotter, cheaper lunches this side of the soup kitchen, and neither of us likes soup.

So we decided we needed to do something to make our lives a little more fun. Not that Barry transcribing my thoughts that I’ve written on Wendy’s napkins in to blog posts isn’t fun, but sometimes you need a break from the daily grind and sometimes Wendy’s gets tired of you sitting in their dining room for six and a half hours a day without ordering anything.

That’s why we instituted Funday Monday. We were going to go with Monday Funday, but Barry’s brother, a disbarred attorney, told us he thought the senior center in town used that for their Monday bus trips to the fabric store and he didn’t want us to get sued for copyright infringement. We also thought about maybe having Fondue Friday, but that’s probably a bit much to take on until Funday Monday gets off the ground and I think we were both hoping that the other would actually know what Fondue is. I guessed that it was some kind of foreign car and Barry thinks it might be a type of tree.

So Funday Monday is our day of fun and living.

We decided that, from the minute we wake up until the minute the sun goes down, we would maximize every second of the day. That’s roughly 90 minutes, so we have to pack a lot in. Activities vary, but our favorites include:

• Cross-checking my spreadsheet of Bob Barker’s tie color with DVR’d episodes of The Price is Right.
• Running up and down the street alongside the neighborhood cats.
• Finding every book in the library about chickens and telling the lady at the check-out that we’re doing extensive research on cocks.
• Bare-knuckle boxing with homeless dudes over behind the liquor store.
• Taking bus trips to the fabric store with the local seniors.
• Playing a little game we like to call “See it, eat it” where we walk up and down the sidewalk and have to eat anything we see on the ground. (Editor’s note: Barry cheats because he walks with his eyes closed.)
• Head over to the lake and look for beached mermaids so we can bone them.
• Paying kids at the high school money in exchange for their tater tots, because Monday’s tater tots are the best.

I can’t tell you everything we do because “the man” is probably reading this, but I promised Barry my run for President wouldn’t interfere with Funday Monday, even if I got elected. I figure the President is pretty powerful and can take three-day weekends whenever he wants.

The blog is back and I’m running for President

I think this little fella' is running for President.

I was sitting outside my ex-girlfriend’s house yesterday, lurking in the bushes, and she had CNN on. I’ve never really watched or heard of CNN, but apparently there’s some kind of election going on this year and apparently there are a lot of people who want anyone but some dude named Mitt Romney to win. And apparently there are a lot of other people who want anyone but some Irish dude named Barack O’Bama to win. I think there’s also a newt running, but I’m not sure how that works.

(Editor’s note: I Googled one of the other candidates and the library revoked my Internet access again.)

As I sat there and stared at my ex-girlfriend unkowingly lounging on her couch, I came to the realization that I’m totally anyone but those guys. And considering I have experience running for President already thanks to my unsuccessful run in 2002 that was derailed by, among other things, misleading ads by my opponent, voter apathy, and the fact that there wasn’t a Presidential election in 2002, I’m more than qualified to run again in 2012.

So it’s decided. I’m throwing my hat in the ring. I think that’s what people say when they run for President. My friend Barry is on board, too, though he’s ruled out jumping on my ticket as Vice President. First off, he’s still trying to get his start-up electronics business off the ground and he doesn’t have the time to dedicate to being Vice President. He’s really close to getting his first 3D TV built. He just needs to finish making a bunch of those paper glasses with the red and blue lenses and also figure out how to make a 3D TV . Second, he’s part of a local citizens’ group that “wants to reverse the result of the Revolutionary War and go back to a time when the King of England was still the king and we got tea by the boatload.” That probably wouldn’t go over well for a Vice Presidential candidate. So far the group consists of just Barry and a drifter named StarFly, but he said he’s been getting some emails from people who want to join. There was a third guy in the group, but they kicked him out because they found out the only reason he joined was to “kill some Injuns and maybe beat up some French guys.”

But Barry’s cool with managing my campaign which is good because his start-up electronics business has given him a chance to learn how to make some sweet-looking pamphlets in Microsoft Word and he’s got a bunch of old cardboard boxes that we can make yard signs out of. I think he’s cool with being the campaign treasurer too, but I haven’t asked him. I’m just going to start giving him the money from donations and hope he doesn’t say anything about not being the treasurer. If he does start to complain, it’s probably nothing a good punch in the neck couldn’t fix.

As far as my platform goes, I’m pretty much just a man of the people – basic stuff like the right to have guns and money and bone lots of mermaids. And I’m willing to bend on the guns and money thing.

I don’t know if they’ll let me in to the debates, but I sent that Barack guy a letter telling him to meet me in my mom’s basement some time and some of our neighbors will probably come over and we’ll have refreshments (BYOB) and we’ll talk about stuff like how to make America more awesome and how to get those jerks in Canada to stop looking at us funny. So far I haven’t heard back, but one day these two guys in an unmarked van showed up outside my mom’s house and they follow me everywhere I go, so I figure he’s just doing some advance scouting. By the way, if anyone has a couple of lecterns I could borrow and some connections with Wolf Blitzer, I’d really appreciate it.

I’m going to save TV

Throughout human history, there have been but two absolute truths. The first is that jean shorts will never go out of style. The second is that television reached its peak on November 19, 1982, when Knight Rider introduced us to the character of K.A.R.R.

There is a third thing that I’m almost 100% certain should be added to this list, and it’s my assertion that Dave Matthews has a vagina. I’m still working to confirm this, however, and it’s been a struggle to do so since I am failing miserably at posing as a groupie at one of his concerts because I find it deplorable to be within 500 feet of him and I look just awful in go-go boots. So I’ve gone the route of becoming a licensed plumber, at which point I will wait anxiously for his shower to break and hope that he finds my ad on page 379 of the phone book. I also hope that he attempts to take a shower while I’m fixing it. So confirmation should be forthcoming soon.

But back to television. Anyone that knows me can tell you that I am a full-blown Knight Rider junkie. I’m sure the pitch for the show went something like this:

TV EXECUTIVE: I’m highly cynical of everything and doubt your proposal will amount to anything, but go ahead.

SHOW CREATOR: This show stars David Hasselhoff and is about a talking car and a guy who got shot in the face.

TV EXECUTIVE: That sounds nothing short of awesome!

And that TV executive was right. The only thing he got wrong was just how awesome the show would become. (Editor’s Note: It was super-awesome.)

Who can forget the aforementioned K.A.R.R., reminding us all just how close we are to evil machines taking over the world. Or better yet, Garth Knight, played masterfully by David Hasselhoff with facial hair. Rumor has it that Mr. Hasselhoff didn’t have time to grow said facial hair properly for the role so he ripped off his chest hairs on set and glued them to his face. I actually made that rumor up just now, but I assure you it comes from a very credible source, that source being the lock of David Hasselhoff’s chest hair I purchased on eBay for the ridiculously low bid of $6.99. (I wanted to bid $300 but I didn’t have it in my checking account and nobody would extend me that much credit.)

(Editor’s note: I can’t confirm if it was one of the chest hairs he glued to his face.)

But there hasn’t been a TV show like Knight Rider ever since. Oh, people have tried. Baywatch was a noble effort. Baywatch Nights was equally interesting. And Saved by the Bell taught me many valuable life lessons, most notably that even nerds can grow up and make sex tapes one day. But no one else has gotten the formula down for great TV.

That is, until now.

See, I wrote a pilot episode for a little situational comedy I think you’ll enjoy called Mermen and a Baby. It’s about these two guys named Mitch and Corey and they live together, and they seem like normal guys, except they both have this birth defect where they got gills instead of lungs, so they have to live underwater. Mitch is an insurance adjuster and Corey works in banking and they both have special offices filled with water and their escapades on dry land lead to sometimes heartwarming and always entertaining results. Also, they both bone a ton of mermaids, which is hot.

Here’s the thing, though. In the pilot episode, Mitch is totally boning this mermaid when there’s a knock on the door and it’s this girl he met in college who he also totally boned. But she’s got this baby and it’s his and she’s going to study abroad next semester so Mitch needs to take care of the baby. And Corey’s a cool dude, so he says he’ll help and so these two guys that have to live underwater have to raise a kid on their own that’s an air-breather. (That’s what they call us normal folks.)

So that’s my sitcom and it’s really funny and I made sure to include a lot of gay jokes because that’s what people laugh at nowadays. And at some point I’m going to have them meet a fisherman named Tyrelle, and he’ll be their black friend and he’ll try to teach them how to rap and be cool and he’ll make fun of how they dance.

Problem is, the networks are too stuck on their stupid show ideas to give mine a shot.

Same with my test script I wrote for Law & Order: Dogs. It would be like regular Law & Order, except with talking dogs. The big twist: They’d keep running into the stupid cat judge. And everyone knows that cats are soft on crime. I also don’t understand how these TV executives fail to see the spinoff potential. The wheels in my head are already spinning on Law & Order Dogs: SVU and Law & Order Dogs: Who Stole my Chew Toy?

Living your life is easy as 1, 2, 3

As 2009 comes to a close, I’m realizing just how much I have on my plate. I’m building a time machine. I’m trying as hard as I can to get accepted into the community college. I’m dealing with my always tenuous living situation. And I haven’t even mentioned my whole freelance architecture business.

(Editor’s note: Until now.)

But that didn’t stop me from putting an ad in the local alternative weekly for a new service I’ll be starting. I figure life coaching is right up my alley. I know that in sports teams are always looking for coaches with experience and I’ve got plenty of life experience.

For those of you that don’t know, a life coach meets with people that aren’t very good at life and gives them advice on either how to get things turned around or the most effective way to kill themselves. I’m pretty sure a life coach is one of the only people allowed to kill somebody else. We’re really the only people qualified to determine who should live and who should die.

(Editor’s note: We’re like God if God were a life coach.)

Normally I charge $75 per hour for my services plus an extra $10 if you want to make out a little at the end of our session. But it’s resolution time and if nothing else I view this blog as a public service. So I’m going to help you make your life better with this free life advice.

Tip No. 1: Life is really long

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years, it’s that this whole living thing takes a long time. In fact, if somebody would have told me beforehand that this was going to take somewhere in the neighborhood of 70-90 years to finish, I’d probably have just passed to begin with.

But here I am with no real choice in the matter (because as a highly-qualified life coach I’ve deemed myself worthy of continuing to live) just kind of counting down the years because I’ve accomplished most of what I wanted to in life. All that stuff I mentioned earlier isn’t really important. I’m just trying to do it all because I’m bored.

Here is my list of things I hope to accomplish before I die that I made in high school. I’ve put an * next to all of the things I’ve accomplished.

• Wear jean shorts.*
• Trick someone into thinking DiGiorno pizza was actually delivery.*
• Learn to swear in casual conversation.*
• Fly a kite.
• Kick a midget.*
• Be on Knight Rider. (Note: This will be completed once my time machine is finished.)
• Bone a mermaid.
• Drive a Big Wheel.*
• Kiss Matt Damon.*
• Kill a hobo.*
• Eat at at least four different Applebee’s.
• Meet Pat Sajak and mistakenly think he’s the host of Jeopardy and repeatedly tell him throughout our evening together that Jeopardy is way better than that crapfest Wheel of Fortune and that surely Hell could be nothing more than sitting in a room full of old people watching constant reruns of Wheel of Fortune only to realize too late that Pat Sajak is in fact the host of Wheel of Fortune and not Jeopardy and I can’t backtrack because I’ve already presented him with a notarized certificate stating how much better Jeopardy is than that crapfest Wheel of Fortune and things just go downhill from there and he eventually stops returning my calls and we end up not talking again until we run into each other one day on a bus and there are a few moments of awkward conversation and staring blankly off into the distance and we realize that we’ve grown so far apart that we can never have what we did before but we both agree that this bittersweet moment has brought us closure on this whole ugly incident.*

So that’s something like 8 out of 12, which is 75%, and Michael Jordan shot under 50% for his career so I think that if I finish my life at 75%, that’s cool.

You should make a list, too. Sit down and think of everything you want to do before you die and then set out to complete 75% of them.

(Editor’s note: It’s easier if 75% of your list is comprised of things you’ve already done.)

Tip No. 2: Everyone is out to get you

The biggest obstacle you’ll encounter in your life is other people. For some reason our society teaches us to value others and be nice and to share. That’s all well and good except for the fact that everyone wants to see you fail. And I don’t mean “you” generically. I mean “you,” the person reading this. Everyone on Earth hates you and is conspiring against you.

If you take that attitude towards life, you’ll see instant improvement. Your relationships will improve dramatically because you’ll now understand them better and realize that your girlfriend is only dating you so that she can find the right time to rip your heart out and step all over it. Sure, she could do it now, but you’re in a good mood so there wouldn’t be much point. She’s just waiting until you get laid off, your house is about to be foreclosed on and there’s this funny looking teenager at your door claiming he’s your son. Then she’ll sit you down and tell you that it’s just not working out and she’d like to see other people.

Same with your coworkers. They’re only being nice to you because they want your job. It may not seem like it because you’re the janitor and that guy in the fancy suit is the human resources manager, but believe me, that thank you he said to you when you cleaned up that coffee spill in his office was just his way of saying, “I could have your job if I wanted it and I’ll take it if you get the least bit complacent.”

In my perfect society, you’d be allowed to punch people like this in the face. But in our current, broken society punching someone in the face is given a silly, corporate buzzword name like assault and battery.

So you need to approach all these bastards (and by “all these bastards” I mean everyone) with the knowledge that they would give anything to see you dead. And if doing so makes you a little bit paranoid in the process, all the more worthwhile.

Tip No. 3: Change your name to something awesome

Fact: Your name sucks.

Fact: If your name was Craig T. Nelson, your name would not suck.

The bottom line is Craig T. Nelson is one of the greatest actors of this or any generation, but the totally sweet star of Coach would have never gotten the gig if his name were David Smith. Why? Because that name sucks.

If you want your life to improve, you need to change your name to something that will make people want to be in awe of you. Craig T. Nelson is the perfect example. Not only does it throw off the shackles of the first name-last name system, but it also includes a mysterious middle initial that could stand for anything. (Craig Tits Nelson?)

But you don’t have to follow Craig T.’s lead. In fact, I don’t think you can handle it. Don’t worry. Since I’m trying to come up with my own cool name, I will now share my list with you and you can choose one of your own:

• Gunnar
• Hairy Frank
• Bone City Johnson
• Fast Mikey
• Tiny Mo
• Jim Lehrer
• Hoss
• Willie “Fancy Walkin’” Jackson
• Jesus of Nazareth
• Wild Wendell and his Hillbilly-Rockin’ Band
• Doc Bologna
• Top Gun

Mind you, these are not nicknames. You’ll have to go down to the local courthouse and apply to have your name legally changed to the above choice. And just so you know before you pick it, you’ll have to use Wild Wendell and his Hillbilly-Rockin’ Band in its entirety every time you write it, say it or think it. It’s impossible to shorten awesome.

Matthew Broderick thinks he’s so much cooler than me

Have you ever seen the movie War Games? If so, consider yourself lucky to have gotten a glimpse into what my life is like.

Not so much the part where Matthew Broderick (played masterfully by Ferris Bueller) almost starts World War III. Or the part where he has a girl in his room. Those are two things I’ve never done. But the parts where he’s sitting around playing video games on his computer – that’s about right.

As an aside, on the subject of how awesome my life is, this video is also a lot like what my life is like:

Or, at least, that will always be the dream: to open up my own auto repair shop complete with singing, dancing and men wearing cut-off shirts. Though no way am I riding off on a motorcycle with my uptown girl. I’m deathly afraid of motorcycles.

(Editor’s note: I’m hoping my uptown girl is a mermaid.)

Regardless, you’re right, my life is pretty sweet, but my friend Barry seems convinced that Matthew Broderick is way cooler than I’ll ever be. What he doesn’t realize is that I’ve already started laying the groundwork to marry one of the actresses from Sex in the City and as soon as the “Please stop sending me mail” letters from Kim Cattrall turn into “I’d love to meet you for coffee some time” letters, Broderick and I will be on even footing.

Barry also doesn’t realize I had originally planned on running into Matthew Broderick in the street and having the following conversation with him:

ME: Hello. Shall we play a game?
BRODERICK: Love to. How about Global Thermonuclear War?

And while that conversation makes no sense whatsoever, I would have proceeded to beat him thoroughly at said game and, thus, I would have then been greater than Matthew Broderick, moving me up to 138th on the list of coolest people in the world.

(Editor’s note: Vin Diesel is at the top of the list.)

It hasn’t happened, though, and when I wake up every morning and look in the mirror, all I see looking back at me is a guy who’s still ranked behind Matthew Broderick on the list of coolest people in the world.

(Editor’s note: Sometimes I like to pretend my nipples are eyes.)

And I think that’s bullshit (the rankings, not the nipple eyes), because Matthew Broderick is married to someone from Sex in the City and that is so 2001.

(Editor’s note: If Kim Cattrall is reading this, you’re not so 2001. We can still get married. Also, are you a mermaid?)

And even though Matthew Broderick is a famous actor with millions of dollars (and a horse) and all I have is my failed mango farm and a high school diploma that may or may not actually belong to Gerald Lawson and I may or may not have run across the stage at graduation to punch him in the face and steal his diploma to roaring applause (and by “roaring applause” I mean “the horrified screams of his mother”) doesn’t mean a thing.

(Editor’s note: If you are currently a member of a jury of my peers sitting on my trial for assault, you should probably not have read that last paragraph.)

So I challenge Matthew Broderick to a contest. We shall bare knuckle box shirtless, preferably in a room with metal spikes on the walls, but if we can’t find a room with metal spikes on the walls I can settle for some broken beer bottles scattered about or if we can’t find a room with broken beer bottles scattered about maybe I can smash my watch on the floor before we fight because all the little gears and parts are pretty sharp and could hurt if you fall on them just right. Of course, it’s a digital watch, so there aren’t any gears, but when the alarm beeps, it gets kind of annoying and it hurts your ears a little, so maybe we can figure something out with that.

But I digress, Broderick. All you need to do is set a date, time and place. Though I’m not allowed to cross state lines at the moment, so keep that in mind. And I have a doctor’s appointment next Tuesday. So nothing before 3:30. I’ll tell you what, how about you just e-mail me your schedule and I’ll send you mine back and we’ll set up a time for our people to negotiate a time for us to fight.

(Editor’s note: I don’t have people. Also, I don’t know how to fight.)

Answering comments I haven’t gotten

Even though I’m still awaiting my first real comment, that doesn’t mean I can’t make a few up for a brand new Friday tradition. For some reason, the made up people who posted these made up comments posted them in letter form. Also, someone actually sent me a letter. I didn’t even realize mail service still existed. Guess you learn new things every day.

Dear Bill,

I also get the chills whenever I think of KARR from Knight Rider. How can we prevent this from happening in real life?

Sincerely,

Mike, Florida

Dear Mike,

That’s just it. We can’t. If somebody happened to make two Pontiac Trans-Ams with artificial intelligence and one had a programming error that made it evil, there’s nothing we can do about it, mostly because David Hasselhoff is too old at this point to kick KARR’s ass.

I’ve sent numerous letters to my congressman demanding action be taken to prevent just this situation, but so far I’ve gotten no response. Isn’t it just like Washington fat cats to wait to fix a problem until it’s too late?

-Bill

Dear Bill,

Who’s to blame for the suckiness of The Matrix? Keanu Reeves?

Sincerely,

Dave, Ohio

Dear Dave,

First off, don’t you dare ever speak poorly of Keanu Reeves again. As a general rule, I don’t wallpaper my room with posters of bad actors, which is why I have my Wall of Keanu (and by “Wall of Keanu” I mean “Room of Keanu”).

Still, he could have really saved us all a lot of trouble by just picking the blue pill. So if anything, maybe blame Keanu’s dedication to his craft and therefore his unwillingness to go off script. Also, there’s a good chance he was getting paid by the hour, so it certainly benefitted him to drag things out as much as possible.

-Bill

Dear Bill,

I know you think it would be cool to “bone a mermaid,” but trust me, I dated a mermaid once. It seemed like a good idea at the time but, long story short, I forgot to put water in the bathtub one day and when I got home from work she had dried out and I was left to clean up the mess and flush her down the toilet. My landlord was not happy.

Sincerely,

Tyler, Texas

Dear Tyler,

That’s horrifying. Still. Totally worth it.

-Bill