Sex On A Bun

Step 1: Take bite

Step 2: Realize you have been lied to you're whole life. Money CAN buy you happiness, and it only costs $5

They call it a haute dog, and the only thing that led me to this nirvana was crowd psychology.

Why the hell is there a line outside of a hot dog stand? Not just a line, but a stretch of people that made me think they were holding American Idol auditions around the corner.

Oh, i'll tell you why. It's because it's a haute dog stand!

If Jesus appeared before me... giving me the option to either know the numbers for tomorrow's mega millions jackpot, or be able to turn any regular hot dog into a haute dog, just by sheer will...

I would have to think for at least a few seconds... just because it sort of sounds like a trick question... Then use my winnings to buy out the haute dog stand and relocate it to the corner of my bedroom that is closest to my head while I sleep.

You've felt the mist of Niagara Falls, you've climbed the tallest mountains, and sailed the widest oceans... But you have not lived until you have had a haute dog!

Failure To Launch II

God damn it's bright.

Usually when Sebastien puts the top down I can't help but get excited. But it felt like a monkey took a small hammer and chiseled away at my head while I slept.

Alcohol does not agree with me like it use to. They call it getting older, I prefer out of practice.

Sebastien looking for a new place to live led us to Mt. Washington. Which looks like it was a nice town at one point in time, but then someone took a really big shit on all the houses. Someone probably thought it was a good idea to put a bus line through there. Downhill it goes.

We pulled in front of the house which, as every house in Mt. Washington is, looks as if some tornado picked swept it from another town, and dropped it right on top whatever helpless structure was originally built there. But he called it a "Bungalow". Which I guess is what hipsters call a house.

I got a nervous feeling approaching the house, the two overgrown Japanese maple trees gave the porch a red tint, and there were at least two dozen Jamenson bottles hanging from the porch's ceiling as ornaments. As if to warn trespassers, and strike fear into anyone who wishes to lay siege. I began to imagine the degenerate that currently resided in the residence, then promptly turned 180 degrees and began to walk back to the car, right as I was about to bump into Sebastian who had yet to realize he should be frightened I heard the door open.

I turned around to see a guy about half my size, probably a little older, and had a few characteristics that gave him sort of a leprechaun look to him. I almost laughed thinking about this guy sitting on his couch, watching Jerry Springer all day, and drinking Jameson from the bottle with an extra large turbo straw.

We stated our business, and he invited us inside so we could look around. I thought for a minute, realized leprechauns are probably vegetarians, I have no reason to worry, and made my way through the threshold, half expecting to see a pot of gold in his living room.

But instead, found more decorative bottles of Jamenson. Since it turned out he was a Hopkins graduate, I wrote off "degenerate alcoholic", and decided to go with "who cares he has enough brain cells anyways". Besides the bottles weren't laying on the floor scattered among syringes, and used condoms. They were displayed with class and pride, as if they were his trophies. And to be honest, if you can drink that much Jamenson and still be functional, you deserve some sort of recognition for such dedication.

Me- Like Jamenson?
Leprechaun- A little, why?

We bid farewell to the lad, and went on our way.

Driving through Mt. Washington is nice. You get to play the "at least I'm not that guy game". The town itself can be pretty charming, but you can't help but throw up in your mouth a little bit when you see a 46 year old virgin with a mustard stained shirt scratch his balls on his way to pick up a 40 of Bud Ice and New Ports.

However, it has it's diamonds in that ruff... Somewhere... I think...

Untitled.doc

Everytime I have a birthday, I usually get a couple free shots at a bar, but the real gift here is a chance to reflect.

Life is but a learning experience if nothing else. And we have to learn everything for ourselves, people can try and guide us, but all in all each person must face his own journey alone.

I think the only way you can truly live with regrets is if you give up on learning. Then the prospects of personal growth go right out the window.

Each year I realize how stupid I was the year before. I can not believe how much I thought I had figured out. I wish I had documented my thoughts, and was able to objectively figure out how out there I actually was.

I bought a small notebook today. I'm going to carry it around with me wherever I go, writing down whatever comes to me.

I left the first page of it blank though. I'am in a sense just beginning life, and I do not think I can come up with a name for a story that has yet to climax.

Possible Ideas: The greatest person who ever lived / How I became a millionaire / God, was I off on the first two titles...

Rule #76 -- No Excuses, Play Like A Champion

God that was weird.

Things seem like they will never go your way ever again, but then out of no where you get that boost which feels like you're sitting on a rocket propelled bus fueled by a blend of uncut cocaine and good times.

I hate how much life can be a roller coaster. But you just have to ride the good times for as long as you can, and when the storm sets in use the memories of what use to be to get you to the next leg of the race.

You live for two reasons, the fact that things will get better, or you're living in the moment and it's great. Either way you have to pass onto the next phase, and that can go two directions. And being that everything in life is relative, it'll end up making your life better or worse.

My friend brought up something that made me really think about moments.

There is going to be one point in your life that is going to be the best moment you've every lived, and there is going to be a moment in your life that is going to be your lowest point.

The catch is you don't know if you've already reached either point.

You could have been at your lowest point, and you have survived, which means things will never be that bad again, it's only up from here.
And sitting on the other side of the spectrum is your greatest moment, which you too could have already lived.

It is one of those beautiful mysteries of life that you just have to accept, but definitely is interesting to ponder.

Life is truly what you make of it, it is merely what your mind perceives it as. If you are in a good mood, you will attract good things. As much as I sound like one of those corny middle aged life coaches that people pay desperate amounts of money for, it is completely true.

I'll save you $2,000 and a trip to a cheap hotel. Just make a list of everything you want to do in life, and do it. Think about that list everyday and make an effort to change.

You have to condition your brain. Are brains are built to deal with things that want to eat us, and survival. So you have to knock it out of its primal nature and start thinking like you own this world. The list helps you to start centering your focus on your goals, but then you have to work on that shitty attitude or else you'll get no where, and you will chalk all this up to a failed experiment.

Put yourself in a good mood, I don't care how you do it. I bought myself a new pair of shoes today, and it made me unnaturally happy, but you know what, that set a chain of wonderful things in motion. It sounds stupid, but try it sometime.

Don't mean to sound rude, but change your god damn mood...

The Perfect Rapist

What amazing weather! I needed to be outside, the winter has left my skin begging for some sunlight. Tennis seemed like a perfect way to suck up some vitamin D.

I made my way to Patterson Park. Beautiful during the day, full of joggers, rolling hills, artwork, dog, and well, you get the point. However, at night it's a drastically different story. Much like that Will Smith movie where he had to duck inside his house every night once the sun set, same general concept. Except instead of hives of flesh hungry zombies you get a fair amount of rapists that post up behind innocuous objects, lying in wait.

If you go jogging at night, or "feel like taking a stroll" through Patterson Park after the sun starts to set, I don't care what your story is, you're asking for it. You must want it. Rape is going to happen, and you know it. You either are extremely sex deprived or you're trying to fill some sort of bizarre rape fantasy, either way I'm not accepting any excuses this time. Don't come and cry to me, you probably did it for attention.

I think I got aced about six times while this was going through my head. Scoping the park, I thought about what the most "perfect rape" would be like. Not that I would ever rape anyone, especially not in Patterson Park, but I was trying to figure out who would be the Dexter of rape and what was so appealing about this park that made it a rape magnet.

Another ball nearly took off my head as I lost interest in tennis, time out, I tossed my racket next to my other things and swapped it for a bottle of water, taking a swig, of the now luke warm substance. If I wanted to solve this riddle I think I just had to ask myself a pretty fundamental question.

What makes a good rapist?

I mean, if you're a construction worker, you're going to want a solid build, and if you're a detective, deductive reasoning is your best friend, so what would a rapist put on his resume?

Screw it, tennis is old new. Let's wrap it up.

Leaving the park I had my "ah ha" moment. The best rapist is someone who would not need to resort to rape in the first place. Which is probably why its a pretty stale industry.

You're going to need great abs, and a body that is in fantastic shape, I'm talking Olympic level athlete, otherwise how else are you going to be able to chase down your prey. A slow rapist is a hungry rapist.

Now, if you aren't in perfect shape you're going to have to lure your prey in. I'm talking great jaw line and eyes that just make your heart melt. Because if you can't outrun them, you have to outsmart them and get them to trust you. The problem is, I don't know how many mug shots you've seen, but the rapists I have seen aren't making it onto the cover of GQ magazine. And there is something about a good looking guy with swag that just leads you to trust them, and in the case of a rapist, lure them in and do your thing.

But why would a great looking guy with perfect abs needs to rape anyone? Just ask, right? I mean would Johnny Depp, Brad Pitt, Ben.... Affleck ever have to rape anyone? If it were possible I'd say they'd be the ones getting raped.

So there you go, rape is a losers game.

Suck it Ben...

Fuck Luck

AHH! We've been fooled! Blinded by our own ambitions and drive it's easy to miss what is really going on here.

We are all apart of some weird universe sponsored lottery. The winners drive Porsches, fuck models, and do hard drugs without any sort of ramifications. While the losers circle crowns it's champions in the world's premiere ghettos and 3rd rate countries. They get their pick of whatever the winner's leave in their dumpsters, fuck gingers and lose their soul's trying to figure out where they went wrong.

Well... where the hell did we go wrong? Maybe you didn't...

Lo and behold the survivorship bias!

Basically, you only hear from the survivors, for they're the only ones around to tell their stories. You win the war, you write the history books.

The winners tell tales of struggle and hardship, talking about their determination while shedding a tear for the hard times and their struggle, but hey that sounds sort of familiar with what you are going through. There is sort of a comfort knowing that "hey this bastard made it big, and look his life sucked worse than mine at whatever given point in his life he is referring to". So just keep up all your hard work and you'll pull through, and maybe tomorrow you won't be in debt up to your eyeballs/have an ugly wife/it'll rain happiness, right?


The problem with that thought process is that the millions of others that didn't make it past that low point aren't making guest appearances on Oprah. So, we have this skewed view of how much determination and success pays off, and thus people continue to try and beat the disgustingly small odds of life, because people like Justin Bieber, don't deserve his $15,000 watch and his $3,000 shoes.

I am not condoning hard work and determination, but the message I am trying to get off is that you have to understand sometimes it is not your fault that you failed. You can do everything right and still finish in the middle of the pack. You just got the short end of the stick covered in poop and grass, while Justin Bieber got the one covered in dance lessons from Usher, and princess cut diamonds.

My favorite quote is shoot for the moon, and if you miss you'll still end up among the stars .. If you really think about it, you'll realize how incredibly lame that quasi inspiration quote is.

The catch 22 about this whole life thing is that life is basically holding a metaphorical gun to your head and making you spin the roulette wheel, and that gun is loaded with hunger, debt, and government welfare programs. You can't just stand there and give up, you have to play the lottery, so might as well give it your best shot. But hard work only tilts the odds in your favor to a slight degree. It's like playing roulette but taking out those annoying double zeros. You'll break even at worst, but hey maybe you'll hit a couple times, win big, and you'll get that supercharded sports car afterall.

Best of luck?...

Hi MTV, What Gives?

The closer you are to the top the farther the fall...

I started out today not caring about this stupid audition, my odds seemed recklessly small. But as the day tredged on my hope only snowballed and I ended the day answering over 63 short essay questions that led me to believe I had a shot, a good shot. And I spent the remainder of the day caring, staring at my phone, waiting for it to ring with a voice on the other end saying

Guess what? Life decided to cut you a break...

Whatever, their loss, stay positive bitch!