Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Girls and Jobs

When looking at two things that, at a glance, appear very dissimilar, there are going to be a lot of people that immediately dismiss the notion of the two being anything alike. Ketchup and sour cream. It’s a Wonderful Life and National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Myself and a man who makes reasonable and well educated decisions. A pretentious douche and seven out of ten University of Washington graduates. Okay, maybe that last one wouldn’t be questioned by most, but the others, sure. Also, if you took offense to that last one, don’t worry, you’re part of the three out of ten. But this (the “apparently different but more similar than you thought” stuff, not the UW douchebaggery) brings me to my topic: Girls and jobs.

How do you like them apples, Harry?
I have occasionally joked with a few of my friends about the similarities between looking for a job, and dating. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that it was almost hard to find differences. Anatomy, sure. But again, this is about more than just a “smell-check.” This is about in depth analysis of the similar traits of the two things. So below, I have outlined the similarities between jobs and the lovely women in my dating pool. Please don’t pee in it.

The Games: First and foremost, before you worry about either of the two, you have to find one. As a guy like me knows, this is way harder than it sounds. I mean, we (humans) have been around for quite some time the last I checked. Which was recently, mind you. And since the creation of jobs, there has been employment. So, yeah, unemployment rate may be 10%, but that means 90/100 people have jobs. And if there are 6,891,852,671 people on this planet (I also checked this recently), they were made by people “finding” each other about 13,783,705,342 times. Minus any twins, triplets, the occasional octuplets and some surrogates here and there, of course.

So at an initial glance, it would appear the average post-school, pre-retirement guy both is employed and gets laid. I manage to fit into neither of these categories currently. I largely attribute this to my lack of “game.” When it comes to women, for whatever reason, I have come to find all of those far-fetched, seemingly BS claims of them loving to play games is undeniably true. Of course, this is generally speaking. But I have recently come to find that you can say the same for jobs. pppppppp0-p (Sorry, my “p” key had a scuff near it and I thought that leaving that bit there accomplish three things: it would commemorate the cleaning of said key, add character to this document and save my delete key some usage. Ironically enough, I misspelled “usage” and had to use the delete key anyway. Moving on.)

Women are grossly turned off by desperation (which I just now decided would make a great name for a cologne. Maybe it would change the public perception of the word “desperation” for the better). If you call them or text them too much, you come off as needy or clingy or someone who wants too much and they will take you too seriously. Fortunately, the opposite holds true as well. If you ignore them, they second guess themselves, get self-conscious or maybe think you have someone else who you feel is a better option and decide that getting you is the only way they will feel better. This also holds true for employers apparently. In a recent interview, I learned suddenly that your goal is to be the interviewer. Answer their questions and follow them up with questions for them. And when you ask questions, make them suddenly realize that if they don’t want to be wasting their time with someone who might not be satisfied with a job offer that they may or may not even get, they need to make you want to work at their place. Suddenly they are telling you all about how amazing it is to work there and want to know if there is anything they could do that might make it a bit better place to work at and suit your needs. “Flexible hours? No problem. Dress code? Well, it’s not enforced.” I find this to be the equivalent of the girl you got shot down by repeatedly and gave up on a couple weeks ago suddenly drunk texting you at 11pm on a Saturday. Not a booty call, but clearly flirtatious with a slight bit of promise.

The Relationship: Excellent. Now that you have landed the job/girl, it’s time to begin the whole relationship portion. People are people. Whether it’s a woman or coworkers, when you’re spending a lot of time with someone there’s always a delicate balance. It’s no longer an interview or a date where everyone can appear pleased all the time. Anyone can be content (or at least feign it) for an hour at a time. But eventually they see you and you see them for what they are. That’s not always bad, but you do need to learn the dynamic of the other person. Eventually there will be times where you absolutely hate them, and other times that you know you couldn’t live without them (especially if one of the “them” in question is your source of income, sugar mamas included). You’ll have to know when they need attention, know when they need to be left alone. You’ll need to learn to gauge their personalities. This only comes with a relationship and time. You don’t ask your boss to take a long lunch when he just lost a $300,000 account. And you wouldn’t ask a woman “What’s for dinner?” when she just found out her favorite grandma died (Side note: This grandma is always rich. Everyone seems to have a rich grandma and a poor grandma. The rich grandma is typically the default favorite). The bottom line here is that you know when you can take time off work, or when you need to put in overtime; and you know when you can go to poker night with your friends, or when it’s time to get in the kitchen and make her her favorite grilled cheese. Sorry, I should have specified, “her favorite” means “her favorite from your personal menu which consists of frozen pizzas and grilled cheese.”

There’s Always More to It: When you sit down at an interview, you always ask, “What are the day-to-day duties here?” Nine times out of ten, you will get what my dad likes to refer to as a “bullshit story.” Things always seem nice, manageable, rewarding, not too hard, but still challenging and engaging. That’s kind of like when you first meet a girl you like. Everything fits at first glance. And no, not just biologically. I mean you both seem to like the same types of food, movies, TV shows, and travel locations and have the same overall career aspirations and such. But a month into it, that’s when you realize what you really have going on.

Meet Trodgor. Maybe he didn't help me 
with the whole "Work-Life Balance" thing. 
But he for sure maintained my "Work-Life 
Suddenly, 30% of your job is making copies and sending faxes, 15% of it is running seemingly pointless errands and 20% of it is fixing other people’s mistakes, 35% of it is taking the blame for those very same mistakes when that work is reviewed and 10% of it is kinda, sorta what they described. At least a little. That’s 110% of a job right there. And giving 110% is the only way to keep a job these days. I am not well versed in relationships, believe me, but I get the sense that they require that same 110% if you want to get anything out of them. But after that first month, you realize that you like sports, she likes American Idol. You like slapstick comedies, she only likes romantic comedies. You want to go to Australia and she wants to go to India. And neither one of you can cook at all, so you are going out every night and it’s starting to add up. Then you find out she has ex-boyfriend drama, minor problems with your best friends and a younger sister who just got engaged and you get that sense that she’s trying to hurry up as if it catch her. Oh no. 30% convincing her she’s not inferior to her sister, 15% deciding where to eat on any given night, 20% arguments that, in the grand scheme of things, mean absolutely nothing, 35% just playing dead and taking blame for things (80% of which you did not do, or were her fault), and 10% of the stuff that you remember from day one. Remember, the good stuff?

Those extra 10%’s add up, and have to come out of somewhere. It’s the trade off of trying the whole career and relationship thing (something I know absolutely nothing about, but I am glad you’re still reading). So where does it come from? Your sleep. And that takes its toll after a while. That’s a lot to handle on such little sleep. I don’t have a career or a relationship right now, and I get grouchy all the time because I don’t get enough sleep. It’s usually because I stay up too late playing video games or watching East Bound and Down or something, but still. Same basic thing: Sleep deprivation. Then the next day my shoe comes untied and I want to throw it through a window. Okay, that’s a bad example because we all know I don’t ever have to put on shoes because I don’t actually have to leave my apartment most days. The point is that I commend all people with school/jobs in a relationship, because they are never what they appear from the outside. Moving on.

The Good Ones Pay Well: Maybe with a job, money might not be everything, but what I mean by “pay” is more in the sense of getting you that feeling of enjoyment that some get out of their jobs at times. You get your money, your benefits, and also, you just did something that makes you feel accomplished. Satisfaction. And, ideally, the “right” girl (if she does exist) satisfies you, too. I’m not talking about what you think I am. I mean she’s someone worth fighting with. Not for, but with. If at any point during a fight, no matter how heated you are or how stupid the argument, you know that this con doesn’t even come close to the pros of the relationship, rest assured, you have something good. But this is all idealistic. Because I maintain that this does not exist. Nor does a job that, at its low points, I will not want to leave.

Be Quiet About Alternatives: I am not condoning cheating. That’s not what this section is about. I am just saying that if someone is done with a job or a relationship, most of the time they wait to find the next one before they break the current one off. In the business world, this seems fine; In the relationship world, it seems twisted. But they both happen. All of the time. They’re the only two things that you have to be secretive about. If you don’t like your wardrobe, you go shopping. Usually while wearing the things you want to get rid of. That’s heartless. If you don’t like your car, or you spot a better option for cheap, you snatch it up. Usually while driving the one you want to replace to the dealership. That’s heartless. But when it comes to a career and a girlfriend, these are commitments. And you can only be committed to one at a time.

Again, I am just drawing the parallels. Clearly, it’s pretty cold to meet someone, be flirting with them, develop strong potential for a relationship and wait for all of this to happen before you leave your current relationship. But it’s also pretty harsh to use your work time to develop your resume and job hunt online (and further, step outside on a “break” to take a 15-minute phone interview).  Unfortunately, all of us will at some point have this done by, or do this to, some person or employer. Colder than Charlie and Eddie Murphy.

So here we are. Start to finish of both a job and a relationship. If you’re sad because they’re over, just hold out hope for the next one to come along and know this: At least I didn’t settle on 2,100 words about similarities between ketchup and sour cream.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Guide to Bachelorhood: Tip #8

Tip #8: Don’t Poofread Texts

Without knowing it, there’s a high chance that if you’re between 18-27, you probably send and receive between 60 and 100 texts a day on average. Did I make that statistic up? Yes. Yes, I did. Do I stand by it? Yes, I do. According to a 25 second Google search (don’t act like you have never based research off of one of those!) the average teen sends 80 texts a day. And I will be damned if we can’t beat those little punks in a text-off (Text-off = A made up competition involving comparisons of quantities of texts between two parties. I’ll work out the details of that incredibly boring competition at a later date)! And of those texts, 90% (also a made up stat) of them are to and from people you know very well and are familiar with and talk to regularly. But what about that other 10%?

Who do you text? Well, if you’re single: your close friends, your family, maybe some distant friends or classmates or coworkers, etc. But the rest of those? More than likely they’re mostly flirtatious texts. Everyone likes to flirt. It’s healthy, it’s fun, and according to a study by the McMadeup Institute, it extends your life by 17 years, makes you thinner and richer and generally makes you happier in life. Unfortunately, flirting can draw you in closer to the opposite sex and, in turn, draw them in to you jeopardizing your bachelorhood. As a counter attack, your main artillery is to text without thinking. Text without looking. Text without proofreading. Text recklessly.

Lammergeier: A bearded vulture that lives in
Europe, Africa, India and Tibet.
If you get a text from a girl, first and foremost, respond immediately. It screams desperation. Set response time records. As a matter of fact, after a bit of time, you can probably gauge her reactions to texts, or know what she will say or ask. So, set up a text in response to it and be ready to send it immediately so as not to waste any time. The only downside to that is that there is too much time available to think about that text and spell check. I say this because the best tip I can give you here is to just text the first thing that pops into your mind, no thinking and absolutely no spell checking. If you’re not smooth, you’re golden. It’s over before it starts. And in today’s age of the iPhone, and its autocorrecting self (I strongly recommend checking out, typing words like “shoulda” automatically “correct” to “should.” There’s a gigantic difference here. Suggesting a girl “shoulda” done something with you instead of what she actually did (ie “Shoulda come eat with me”) is immensely different than suggesting what she “should” do (ie “Should come eat with me”). Especially at 11pm when she doesn’t know very well.

Now that you have alienated yourself sufficiently right out of the gate, don’t let that slow you down! She could be one of those girls who enjoys taking their time and gives second chances. If you happen to be actively avoiding a relationship, you also happen to be trying to avoid these kinds of women. Lovely as they may be, they might also be the death of your bachelorhood. All of a sudden she has you explaining your text mishap and BAM, you’re back in the clear. At this point, stay strong. You can still damage relations. Ask yourself “What would North Korea do?” We all know the answer is “Be a country-sized jackass.” Again, the absolute best way to make a complete ass of yourself is to not read your texts before sending. And I am not talking about simply proofreading; I am talking about ignoring the context of what you’re sending. For instance:

What you want to say: “We should hang out soon,” and, independent of that, “Is your night getting better?”
What you text: “Let’s hang out this week.” Followed by “Is your night better now?”
What is conveyed: “You get to hang out with me! Aren’t you the lucky girl?”

What you want to say: “I am a talented sketch artist. Can I draw you?”
What you text: “I like to doodle. You should let me do you.”
What is conveyed: “I spit game like Leo on Titanic.”

What you want to say: “I had a party last weekend and I have left over snack meat. I was wondering if you had interest in coming over to help me eat it and watch a movie?”
What you text: “I have an abundance of sausage. Want to come over?”
What is conveyed:  “I pick up women the same way a greasy 48 year old chubby man would in a college bar.”

What you want to say: “It’s getting dark so early now days,” and, independent of that, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
What you text: “Man, it’s dark out. Want to go on a walk?”
What is conveyed: “There’s an 84% chance that I have interest in raping and/or killing you.”

Ultimately what reckless texting conveys is that you are a creeper and are to be logged into her phone as “Do Not Respond.” If you need motivation beyond maintaining bachelorhood, look no further than those “average teens” and knowing that time wasted proofreading is just putting you further behind them in your side quest of text-off supremacy! Additionally, winning and/or creating contests like the aforementioned “text-off” is an absolute deterrent to women, but that will be covered much later…  

Monday, November 8, 2010

Guide to Bachelorhood: Tip #7

Tip #7: Invest in Couches a Plenty

When women are sizing up their potential mates, they always look at everything they may come with. Including, but not limited to: face, body, smell, clothes, car, jewelry, hair, and residence. For our purposes we will be focusing on the residence. Namely, the seating arrangements. A sure fire way to avoid women is to have an abundance of seating. Especially couches and man chairs.

Women are active beings. They are always doing something, or at least making it seem like they’re doing something with their witchcraft trickery. They never want to appear to have nothing to do. For guys, that’s never an issue. Our first inclination when we are alone and without task is to turn on football, catch up on the DVR or play video games. And when that fails, we are always down for a more, uhh… private alone task. We cherish all of that time (some of it significantly more than others). These are all things that require sitting. Women are greatly adverse to this. So much so that they will go out of their ways to ensure you cannot sit, forcing you out of all of these activities. They come up with to do lists, or come up with awful ideas for activities, all so you have no sitting time. Their goal is to make sure your posterior is firm and shapely. Too much sitting makes it grow flat and blur the line between lower back and upper hamstring. My ass is absolutely undefined.

You're going to need more than that to foil my sitting 
plans! Nice try, though.
When all else fails, women will run out and purchase throw pillows. These are a plague. They show up on chairs, couches and even beds. I have never seen one in use. They are always removed before sitting. It might be moved to another chair, another couch cushion, on the floor, wherever, but it always needs to be moved because throw pillows are boomerang-esque in that they never fail to return to their original place. You can’t just move them once. Your best defense against these highly expendable accessories is to have so much seating that she runs, because she knows she will never be able to afford enough throw pillows to thwart your sitting pleasure.

Men caught onto this trick early on, and for legal reasons they couldn’t outlaw throw pillows but applied a great tax to them. This is why all throw pillows, despite being half the size of your regular bed pillow, are about five times the price. All because of the great Throw Pillow Tax of 1976. This is all true. Really, it’s disgusting. I won’t name names, but I know a woman who bought a $130 throw pillow. I am sure this was justified within her head, thinking that this would force her husband to perform over $130 worth of work with the time he wasted not sitting because the more the throw pillow costs, the more likely it is you will be yelled at for throwing it on the ground while you sit in its place. It’s like women never grew out of the invisible friend phase as a kid.

“You can’t sit there! Where’s Charles going to sit?!”

“… Who is Charles?”

“The pillow you just threw onto the floor!”

Bet you wish you had some more spots to sit right about now, don’t you?

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Guide to Bachelorhood: Tip #6

Tip #6: Talk Too Much

So you’re sitting there at a party, doing your thing, drinking a little bit and talking to all kinds of different people: tall, short, skinny, fat, white, black, Asian, Johns, Sheilas, Bobs, Tracys, accountants, engineers, the unemployed, the mentally handicapped, and most regrettably, cute girls. We’ve all done this. But then you get a moment of clarity and you realize you’ve been talking to the same girl for like 30 minutes. She is fully interested. If you leave now, she is going to follow you, Facebook friend you and give you her number. Women are like the smoke coming from a bon fire; You want to be close to the fire, but as soon as you’re within range, the smoke just attaches to you and no matter where you move, you continuously receive billowing hits to the face. You’re trapped, son. This is unfortunate and often comes with a particular smell (smoke smell: bad, women smell: great). You have given this woman false hope, thinking she met an interesting counter part, and might have a potential boyfriend. 

Uh oh... I'd better stick around a little longer.
Stand strong my friend; we both know you are actually not that interesting. When you meet someone at a party, you always want to impress. Maybe not to pick anyone up, but just to not come off as dull. Everyone does it, at least on some level. So while you are talking to someone and hearing all of their amazing stories thinking they have some endless supply of interesting stories… take a step back, realize that they are 25 and all four of the stories you just heard are absolutely as awesome and interesting as this person is to this point in their lives. It’s probably 80% of anything interesting that this person has to say. This is their curriculum vitae for their lives. It starts with your greatest accomplishments, but if you go any deeper, the bottom is full of loose ends that are reworded to sound more impressive than they really are. So while you are thinking you have barely scratched the surface of this person, you’re really already to the point where you have to start scraping the sides of the carton with the spoon to go any further.

So I submit to you this: Keep talking. If she’s interested on any level, she will listen for five minutes and smile big from minutes 10 to 20. From 20-30 she will gaze upon your face and lips with a look of deep intrigue. But you and I both know you’re not 45 minutes interesting. If you’re 45 minutes interesting, then you’re embellishing in an effort to get some action or a girlfriend. But if you’re not trying, then extend that conversation to 45 minutes, maybe an hour. Bam. By then, she will reach her moment of clarity. You will see it. Her face will convey that her false impression of you has been destroyed. Like the face of a toddler whose favorite doll was just tossed in the trash after irreparable damage occurred to it. In a toddler’s case, it’s usually some sort of heavy physical damage paired with a large amount of fecal matter. In the life of this girl, you are now the physical trauma and fecal matter on her favorite doll. She won’t want to “scratch the surface” anymore because she knows if she does, fables of fantasy football heroics and enthralling stories of shopping for ninja star coasters online emerge from your inebriated mouth.

Leaving the conversation with her interested is the worst thing you can do. You do that and she will, without fail, track you down and get that first date. Women are masters at this. At that point, you’re screwed. The first date comes with an abundant supply of topics in and of itself to distract from the fact that you’re not actually interesting (“Isn’t this food delicious?” “Is that your car?” “How was your week?”). Then date two, date three and soon enough, you’re hanging pictures of the two of you in your collective apartment as she has now moved in and you now get hit constantly with billowing hits of beautiful girl smell. If you had just invested an extra 15 to 30 minutes to unveil your true self, this scent of a woman could have been avoided… Hooah!

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Guide to Bachelorhood: Tip #5

Tip #5: Eat Good Food

“Good food.” There’s no “correct” definition for it, but somehow, in America, it has become synonymous with “healthy food.” If that fact was someone’s Facebook status, and Facebook allowed “disliking,” I would create several accounts, just so I could dislike the status several times. Much like men, who wanted prettier women, created magazine campaigns with beautiful women in them to get women to want to be more like what they wanted, women created “health food” campaigns which make men think we need to eat healthier. Why? Because it lead to guys thinking “Man, this whole cooking and eating right stuff is a pain in the ass… I should find a girl and trick her into doing it for me.” It was brilliant.

Soon, single women across the nation were getting booty calls, demand for tasteless health food was through the roof for inexplicable reasons, and organic food prices were on the rise. The typical man was now cornered. He went shopping, saw health food, didn’t want to cook it, got a girlfriend, prices went up, and now she needs money for “groceries.” I am hip to your ways women! If you cook it and it tastes good, it didn’t cost much and you’re using the rest of that money for shoes!

Sure, that seems like a
reasonable lunch.
Yep, bachelors were going extinct quickly. And if you want to remain a bachelor, you have to shop like a bachelor. Women won’t admit to it, and they act like it’s a chore, but they want to cook for you. It’s all a charade, so you feel like you owe them. Damn it, they’re geniuses! The best way out of this pickle is to shop for yourself using my Six S’s of “good food” as a guideline:

Soups – Campbell’s Chunky Soup comes in bowls. You don’t even need a can opener, the lid doesn’t require one. Just a spoon and a microwave (and the soup, unless your microwave is magical). Besides, according to commercials, Donovan McNabb eats it and his mom makes it for him. If you live with your mom, you’re set for life on the bachelorhood front. Read no further.

Sandwiches – This gets tricky. It requires an initial investment in mayonnaise and mustard, which last for years. If they do happen to turn green, keep them. Garlic is to vampires what moldy condiments are to women.

Once you have said condiments, you can get pickles (which are not considered produce for these purposes), cheese, bread, and meat. The meat is tricky too. When you approach the deli guy, he’s got all kinds of questions, like “Can I get something for you?” or “What kind of salami? Genoa or hard?” Don’t let his voodoo trickery fool you. You want Genoa… Or hard. It doesn’t really matter. Pick one and stick to it. It’s a test; no one really knows what the difference is. I am convinced that there is no difference. He just wants to make you look like an idiot later when you choose one and he goes to get it and asks, “Which one did you want again?” and you can’t remember after you answered it so assuredly before. Asshole.

Sfrozen Foods – “It doesn’t start with an ‘S’,” my ass! It was supposed to. Put your tongue on something frozen and try to say a word that starts with ‘S’. When you fail, get back to shopping, because that definitely starts with ‘S’. Start digging deep and you will soon find the good stuff. They have ice cream, frozen pizza, hot pockets, Eggo waffles, all kinds of frozen dead animals and their delicious meat, and frozen dinners. It begs the question “Why aren’t fridges the other way around, where the freezer is 2/3 of the storage space?” (Answer: Women designed… Their plan is elaborate.)

That shit is a trap. I can tell.
Snacks – If you open the cupboard and don’t have chips, cookies AND (not or) cereal, be weary; there is trouble abound. Your go to staple foods are running out, soon you will look to the TV to tell you what to eat. Boom. All of a sudden you want healthy food and it’s all down hill from there. I’ve seen it a hundred times.

Chips provide the crunch for your sandwich (since lettuce has been removed in the P section, below). And if Safeway says a product is cheaper if you buy 12 of them, it’s more than just a suggestion. You need not just 20 E.L. Fudge elf shaped cookies, but 240! A small army of Keebler Elves has never hurt anyone. It’s protected them. From girlfriends.

Soda – Women are all about water with lemon. And coffee and tea. Avoid these beverages by having wonderful, cold, sugary, addictive beverages. Or beer. Women need hydration. It’s one of their weaknesses. Utilize it, they don’t have many. They are like human Death Stars. If you absolutely need to have something that hydrates, go with Gatorade. Not the watered down version either, as a matter of fact, mix some similarly colored Kool-Aid in for good measure.

That’s five… And… umm…

Stuff That Comes in a Container You Can Eat Out of – Frozen pot pies that come in the bowl, the Chunky Soup Previously mentioned, Ben & Jerry-sized ice cream, anything that makes it clear there’s a high probability that if someone asks for food, they are going to be eating it from a paper container or with their hands.

Conversely, don’t purchase any of the P’s


It is essential to not have any sort of cook wear or produce. If you buy that, the next thing you know you’re eating a home cooked meal with your new girlfriend thinking about how you have to do dishes now.

Why can't you be more like
"Sfrozen" and start with 'S'?!
I know, many of us don’t want to go grocery shopping, but I love it. It keeps the junk food supply abundant and the women sparse. It might seem intimidating, but it’s cake (coincidentally, cake would have been on the list had it started with an “S”).

Lastly, when you get to the store, you’ll need a cart. Don’t grab a basket; women are the only people who go to stores for few enough items to warrant basket usage. Once you wrestle with the row of carts and start wondering if your cart is broken, rest assured that it’s not. Carts are just not functional. Personally, I can’t blame them for not maintaining the carts, if you look at the wheels, they always have a Barbie dolls head worth of hair on the axel. Women’s hair. And women are everywhere, be on the look out. (Fun Fact: Margaret Katz designed the grocery cart in 1937 and made sure the wheels collected the hair off the floor. Since no one listened to women in 1937, her husband Sylvan Goldman has always been credited with the invention so it had merit.)

You’ll be fine if you stick with my Six S’s. Women don’t shop for those things and are never in those sections. It’s as easy as that. Plus, you get to ride the cart like an oversized skateboard and then chest pass it from 20 yards out and see if you can get it to go into the cart return without slamming someone’s vehicle. And if it does, you’re already 20 yards away anyway. Run. Especially if it’s a cute, produce-wielding, good smelling, chef of a woman.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Nothing Without You...

Everyone relies on someone, somehow, some way, at some point. Either that, or you wouldn’t be reading this, because you died shortly after birth from malnourishment. It’s a fact that acts as one of life’s many foundations. We don’t change it, we simply build around it. Kind of like when I was 11 and threw a large rock into the largest anthill ever constructed. The ants couldn’t remove it, so they just went with it.

Some people, however, learn to depend on someone or something early on and, in some cases, would never exist without whatever it is they may be clinging to. In many cases, they don’t even enhance what they mooch off of in order to survive. There are even inanimate objects are guilty of this. They never even give out so much as a thank you note to their life support. So, I contacted several of these nouns (people, places and things) in order to see if I could get them to write a brief thank you note to the one thing they should worship more than anything on the planet: their better half.

Below, I have compiled the responses I did happen to receive from these nouns (I will publish the responses as they roll in). Finally, they show a little bit of respect…

Dear Sports,
"Really? You stood in line for threehours to 
have me sign your Big Book of Basketball?"
  Thank you for being an integral part of our every day lives. You equate to over 90% of everything we have stored in our brains. Because of you we have reason to wake up in the morning; we have a reason to dress like we are 13 again; and we can maintain conversations with other men, which allows us to compete with one another through our vast knowledge of you without even being moderately athletic or having any sort of coordination at all.

Without you it would be unacceptable to run around shirtless in the cold; people may find it weird if we touch our best friends’ asses and yell “good hustle!” when they get off the phone with the pizza guy; we would just be millions of smelly men in parking lots, eating bratwursts in a parking lot as if it were some kind of homeless people convention; the beer industry would collapse; we would only use the Internet for video games and porn; we might feel the need to be **gulp** productive at work instead of getting freaky with all of your junk online. Sorry, we meant “looking at stats online.” Truth be told… We love you. Hold us.
     Eternally Grateful,
          Tailgaters and Fantasy Geeks

Dear Old People,
  We’re not really moochers, right? You love us. We work so well together. As a matter of fact, one might even venture to say that you need us more than we need you. You would have nothing to live for if it weren’t for us. What are you gonna do? Play with your grand children?! Yeah, right. You need exercise to survive past 60 and are easily persuaded by infomercials showing silver foxes play with me on the beach. If anything, you owe us a letter of respect and adoration. We don’t beep to let you know something of value is nearby; we beep to let you know that we are your life support. When you stop hearing that beep, it’s because you are heading for that light at the end of the tunnel. And no, that’s not an ancient golden artifact, that’s a Corona bottle cap on the beach. Man, if the actual bottle is close by, you might be able to take it to Michigan to collect your nickel. Then maybe you could get a tank of gas, go see a movie and buy a candy bar with the change… You know, like when you were kids…
     Waiting for Your Apology,
          Metal Detectors

Dear Mildly Attractive Stripper,
  I really, REALLY would have no clue what to do without you. I have absolutely no marketable skills, no education, no self-esteem and no boyfriend. I couldn’t land a job picking up the Corona bottles buried in the sand that the Metal Detectors were talking about. I will absolutely drive us to our shows, and do as you say. I will even give you a majority of the tips and pretend it doesn’t bother me. You are my everything… until you hit 30…
     Your Plush Imaginary Coattails Passenger,
          Ugly Stripper

Dear Mexican Food,
  You’ve boosted my sales immensely. No one puts me on anything but you. You’re my landing pad. A little dollop here, a little dollop there and my job security is cushioned. I love rubbing myself all over you (just don’t tell the salsa. She hates when I do that)… What’s that? You’re down with a little me, you, Salsa three-way? I’d be lying if I said I weren’t at least a little intrigued… How do we approach her with this suggestion?
     Impatiently Waiting,
          Sour Cream

Dear Sour Cream,
  Are you kidding me?! It’s YOU that complete ME. People love you. Without you, there would be no me. For thousands of years, you have been around but people were embarrassed to eat you directly from the tub with a spoon. It was just taboo, like sex. Everyone wanted some, but doing it in the open was socially unacceptable. So then I came about. I am like your bedroom in this twisted culinary/sexual analogy… A place to do it that no one questions. I mean sure it’s nice to sneak a bite in the park or at work, but you know that if you want to be safe, just throw some on me. I am there for you baby.
     Yours Always,
          Mexican Food

Dear Mexican Food,
  This analogy has me all worked up… What did Salsa say???
     In the Mood for Some You,
          Sour Cream

Dear Sour Cream/Mexican Food,
  You had me at “twisted culinary/sexual analogy.”
     So In,

Dear Facebook,
    Before you, no one cared when I was brushing my teeth or just ate three granola bars and a packet of fruit snacks. Now, 457 people care. I can tell because they haven’t defriended me. Who would have thought my life would be this interesting? You’re a dream come true!
     Intimately Yours,
          Boring Egotistical Asshole

Dear Internet,
   Man, where would I be without you? A columnist at a newspaper? No one reads these posts… A newspaper would never hire me. I write things about magical lands where boys are pure evil. I write about food condiment ménage trios. I write about Terry the Bounty Hunter. There is absolutely no medium or market for what I write. Without you, my thoughts would stay in my head where they belong and never surface for the world to see. The world would be a slightly smarter place, as everyone is now dumber for having read to the end of this post. Thanks for not limiting or censoring me.
     Futilely Leaching Since December,

Monday, May 31, 2010

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Rice Krispies,
  When you stopped selling Rice Krispies Treat Cereal in stores, you lost me as a customer. I don’t want to have to buy my cereal online. How am I supposed to get whatever 10 essential vitamins and minerals your incredible product replenished my body with now?

Dear Drivers,
  I am both amazed and terrified at your inept abilities in navigating a roundabout. It embarrasses me to be a part of the human race when you associate yourself with me and can’t maneuver a very simple traffic obstacle.

Dear Left Shoulder,
  Why are you slightly hairy, when my right shoulder is not at all?

Dear Right Shoulder,
  Get Left Shoulder back in line. He is acting completely out of control.

Dear Hair on my Head,
  It’s mind boggling that even though I lose upwards of 100 strands of you a day, you manage to replenish yourself. It’s like each hair follicle is a Kleenex dispenser for hair. Well played.

Dear BP,
  I am pretty sure it’s not a good idea to televise an attempt to fix your oil spill disaster, especially when you appear to be soliciting solutions from the Internet. If you’re listening, here are my top five solutions:
-          Giant tampon
-          Magic
-          Pay everyone to pretend nothing happened
-          Create a large vacuum to suck the water out, add vinegar and sell product to chip companies for a “BP Sea Salt and Oil and Vinegar” chip
-          Force Sarah Palin to speak on the subject in a Nationally televised event that will most definitely somehow end up having her say something that makes it look like it was her fault

Dear Lady Gaga,
  You’re embarrassing to listen to, so stop making music that I want to listen to in my car.

Dear Bed,
  Why do you seem so much more appealing to me at 7AM than 9PM?

Dear Animals,
  Thanks for racing each other and letting me gamble on it. I can’t imagine a group of trained animals I wouldn’t have interest in betting on/watching race. This applies to all animals; Not like animal fights. Sure dogs and cocks fight just fine, but I am not too sure you can get a gambling ring at your house that involves two horses fighting. Wrong animal activity Ron Mexico; you should have raced the dogs.

Dear Washington State University,
  Donations? It’s so nice of you that you remember me now that I have a degree and a job. I’m sure we will never forget the good times we once had. You know? Like when you waited until people purchased their meal plans and then jacked up the prices of food campus wide? Or when you used to send me the notices of delinquency that threatened to have the police evict me from my dorm during finals week every semester like clockwork for seven straight semesters? Yeah. Those were the days. I will be sure to support your programs now because you treated me so kindly. Keep those “How Coug Are You?” mailings coming my way. I haven’t forgotten to donate; I have just been really, really busy lately. I don’t tear them up and throw them away every time though. I swear.

Dear Wal-Mart,
  I know everyone hates you, but I am okay with you for two reasons. One, the type of people you attract to your store are website-worthy and, without your store, there wouldn’t be a dense population of these people to photograph in any one small location other than in parts West Virginia and Kentucky. And two, because I just went to the Kellogg’s cereal finder home page and found that you carry Rice Krispie Treats cereal!

Dear Target,
  I would like to thank you for being the only local carrier of Berry Berry Kix, which I also had to use an online cereal finder to locate.

Dear People Reading,
  Why are you reading something written by someone who has used online cereal finders before? “Finders.” Plural. Really?

Dear PlayStation 3,
  They say time is money. I am filing a class action law suit against you. You owe me a lot of money.

Dear Confidence,
  People tell me to have you. Sometimes I pretend to and it always ends badly. Women can smell fake confidence. It smells like urine running down one’s pant leg.

Dear Pedestrian,
  When I am driving and you are crossing the street, we don’t need to have the “go ahead, wait, you want me to go? No please go. No, you go. Alright, fine. Oh, wait, you went at the same time, let’s both stop. Go ahead,” charades, which stem from confusion about who should go first. How about you go when I tell you to because I am operating a lethal weapon. This isn’t a threat, I am just saying. If I had a gun and told you to go, I bet you would do it. Do you know why? Because the person with the upper hand has the final say. Deal with it and cross the damn street. *Honk*

Dear iPhone,
  No I didn’t mean “he’ll,” I meant “hell,” damn it. Stop correcting me. I can’t remember the last time I used the word “he’ll” in my writing.

Dear Teeth,
  I am 24 years old now. Under no circumstance should you be biting my lips. I have been chewing long enough that it shouldn’t happen. You make everything you’re attached to look uncoordinated and foolish. It’s embarrassing.

Dear Barney Stinson’s Doppelganger,
  I hate you.

   Roy Vincent