100 Words: On Olives.

I have never had a good expensive olive, you know the kind you can buy buffet-style at the grocery store (or pick off of olive trees in Italy). All the olives I have ever eaten have been canned. Growing up in small-town Kansas olives weren't really the "in" thing.

The buffet-olives always look so plump and juicy. And I know they must be drenched in bitter salty goodness.

My friends and I used to mouth "olive juice" because it looks like you're saying "I love you."

Gaze into a mirror and try it.

Oh, you just loved yourself, how nice.

100 (or so) words on: Poop Commercials

Does anyone else think it’s strange the amount of anti-constipation commercials that have overwhelmed the television lately. If we’re not learning about all the fucked up bullshit politicians have been doing we’re learning how to clean out our colons, YAY!

I have a simple solution. Stop eating so much shit and you’ll be able to shit better. Seriously. I cannot believe all the new products that exist to clean people out. You know what’s clogging you up, processed food. Eat a flipping apple for crying out loud. Would it be so difficult to actually consume healthy produce instead of eating cardboard pizzas and fast food every day? Have a flipping orange. It has got to taste better than that “orange flavored” Metamucil powder people put in their water.

Another point, if you didn’t eat dairy to begin with you wouldn’t need that nasty yogurt to help smooth out your bowel movements. What it comes down to is simplicity. The more complicated your food gets, the more complicated your inner workings become. So, as someone once brilliantly said, “keep it simple stupid” the poop will come out freely and we can all stop watching those creepy commercials with the extra happy poop-free people in them.

200 (or so) Words on: Strange Injuries

Is it just me or do other people wake up to find bruises in strange places, soreness in obscure muscles, or cuts and scrapes that have no memory attached to them. I have a giant bruise on my big toe, it hurts so much, yet I have no recollection of how or when I damaged it. It’s starting to worry me. I’m starting to imagine that I have a secret sleep-walking life, a life of pure clumsiness, but a sleep-walking alternative life none the less. How can I run into things or have things fall on me or have things kick me or have things attack me and not recall any of it? Am I blacking it out because it’s pure torture? I think I’m going to start taking notes when I bang my body on something, that way I can look back and go, oh yeah, that bruise is from when I smashed my head on the refrigerator’s freezer door or that’s when I was play-kicking Ryan and accidently karate-clubbed the wall instead. It’s the only way to keep my injurious life style from causing me pure mental instability. But for now, I’ll just have to down some ibuprofen and try to forget about the pain.

100 (or so) words on: That stupidly tall building in Dubai & Viagra sheets

Really men, when will you get over your cocks? It’s no longer impressive to have the “tallest” building in the world, especially when there is a major recession and we can imagine that money going to actually helping the people instead of giving the country an illusion of grandeur.

Congratulations Dubai you now have the biggest dick in the world, how are you going to use it, who are you going to penetrate, what are you going to reproduce with that enormous thing?

Speaking of cocks. Not only do men need to prove their endowment by constructing ridiculously tall building but now they also can get a hard on just by lying down in bed. Yes. There is a new invention that laces sheets with Viagra—which not only seems harmful but is lavishly unnecessary. Why do men get the privilege of fucking into old wrinkly shriveled age yet women can’t even get full reproductive care? Yes, let’s worry about men’s boners but let’s not take a moment to consider who those men are sticking it into or whether or not the women (or other men) really want them old and hard. Men shouldn't get full access to fuck until women get full access to their own bodies.

Guess what men? We get it. You have dicks. We don't need giant buildings and hard-on laced sheets to figure it out. So put them back in your pants and calm it down.

100 (or so) words on: January Diets

Is it torturous to just me to start a diet in January? Who thought of this stupid-ass scheme to guilt people for eating all through the Winter holiday and then convince everyone to cut out everything fattening and only eat fruits and vegetables. FRUITS AND VEGETABLES ARE NOT IN SEASON IN JANUARY! I mean really, what the fuck can you eat in January that’s fresh? Who is going to keep a diet when they can only eat frozen foods reheated to mushy half-foods? No wonder this is a repetitive yearly cycle of over-eating, fasting, over-eating. Our bodies are not in the mood for a low-cal diet in the middle of winter. It just doesn’t make sense. That’s why it never works. If people really want to lose weight they need to break this stupid cycle and just start taking care of their bodies on a daily basis not just when the treadclimber commercials return to the airwaves.

100 (or so) Words On: Sheet Thieves

We’ve all been in a bed with someone who does it. Whether it’s a sibling, a parent, a lover, or a friend. The lights go off and the sheets are taken with a swiftness designated to speed skaters.

If it’s a lover the initial reaction is to break up with the selfish bastard. If it’s a relative, wet willies come to mind. But, evolution explains to me that they’re just trying to survive, they, like any other creature of this world just wants to feel warm when it's cold.

Most people probably don’t even realize they do it, until they're woken up by another person yelling at them to stop. But honestly, it’s bad etiquette; the counter-part to drooling all over someone else’s pillow.

It seems uncontrollable, but it's tolerable to a degree—(nothing below 65 please).

100 (or so) words on: Jolly Old St. Nick

I know some of you have already heard this story, but I, like most children, believed in Santa Claus until I was maybe 6 or 7. The person who revealed the secret told me to keep acting like I believed so I could get more presents. I don’t remember if I did or not, but what I do remember is years later, using Santa Claus to debate the existence of God with my mother.

I would say things like, “How can I know if God exists if you told me Santa Claus did and he turned out to be A LIE.” This is why Christians (or whoever else believes in God) should not allow children to believe in fantasies. When they learn the truth they will turn on you. And then you get a whole world full of immoral cannibal atheists.

100 (or so) words on: Love Songs

I’m trying to write a long song. It’s not a love song for me. It’s a love song for the world. This is difficult because, honestly, what is left to be written about it? Are there any new discoveries to be made; are there even any innovative ways to look at love anymore? Sure. There exists several hundred different types of love and I’m sure I will eventually unravel one type that I can lyricize about, but right now it is the most difficult brain blocking task I have tried to accomplish for some time. The Beatles say, “All you need is Love”—I don’t know if that simple yet true statement needs any expansion.

100 (or so) words on: Tiger Woods

He plays golf. Surely there is no sport more boring. And if you got millions of dollars to play it and promote it wouldn’t you use that money lavishly? Wouldn’t you marry a super model? Buy a mansion. Get drunk. Wreck your bling bling SUV while getting a blow job from your hot mistress while your hot wife is smashing the windows in with your thousand dollar golf club? (I don’t know if that’s how it went down….I’m merely assuming and exaggerating). But, wouldn’t you? If you could? Isn’t that the point? Isn’t that why you’re still interested in this story? Because frankly, it’s way more intriguing than watching the PGA… even if the story is still slightly dull.

100 (or so) words on: Cyber Monday

What. The. Fuck. Cyber Monday? This is just so much bullshit I can’t even keep myself from cussing. Making up capitalistic occasions to get people to spend more money on days that are specified to have potentially better deals, as if you couldn’t go online and buy shit ANY time. What’s tomorrow, Techno Tuesday. And then what, Waste-more-money Wednesday. Today I was going to write about Doritos. BUT NO. Instead I have to rant about the materialism of America. Again. Could we please quit buying shit. For one day. Could we just live life free from shopping? Is it even possible?

100 (or so) words on: Jesus

First, I don’t believe in institutional religion of any kind. In fact, I don’t believe in institutions of any kind. Yes, I know they exist, but I do not support them. I find them patriarchical, militaristic and thus, oppressive. Also, I must admit, I have not read the bible in its entirety. I think it’s because it’s so popular. I don’t like conforming. Plus, there are just so many other books in the world to read. Why read a book that is supposed to represent “loving thy neighbor” when it hypocritically has caused so many wars, deaths and destruction. People who truly believe in the “word” of Jesus would look for peace; would hold hands and sing “All you Need is Love.” But whenever these issues come up all I want to do is sing Patti Smith and return to the world of cynicism.


Patti Smith: “Gloria”

Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine
Meltin' in a pot of thieves
Wild card up my sleeve
Thick heart of stone
My sins my own
They belong to me, me

People say 'beware!'
But I don't care
The words are just
Rules and regulations to me, me

100 (or so) words on: Black Friday

“Cannibals for Capitalism”—the true slogan for the events that take place the day after Thanksgiving.

People will seriously eat each other if it means getting a cheaper microwave or Wii or cucumber melon gift set.

Trampled. Mauled. Tired. And for what? Another set of shit under some soon-to-be-dead tree?

What happened to getting passed-out drunk on the holidays? Or is Thanksgiving now just a warm-up event for the over-consumption and over-spending of the "real" celebration: Capitalism? Which we call, Black Friday: Material Overload (prequel to Black Friday: Year of the Coupon Cutters).

We should celebrate each other, we should celebrate beauty, life, laughter; I can even tolerate the celebrating of Jesus as long Jesus doesn’t come gift-wrapped.