Gauging Your Mood
Hey, do you have a minute to talk about something I hate? Or, do you want to wait until later, when you're in a more cynical mood? Because, I don't want you cheering me up.
If you are in the frame of mind to give people the benefit of the doubt, or if you’re feeling optimistic about your fellow man, just give me a dopey smile, and I'll move on.
However, if you agree with me that people are gross and stupid and their butts smell like butts, and you promise me not to play devil's advocate, maybe we can talk.
On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your mood? One being "shut your fat face," and ten being "bunnies: we love 'em." If you're at a six or higher, just forget it. I need somebody on the bitter end of the spectrum, because I am not looking for contrasting opinions right now. Not that I normally am.
You haven’t rolled your eyes yet, so that means you’re not annoyed by anything. Why don’t you take a few minutes to read some YouTube comments? Maybe look up the bio of someone younger and more successful than you. That always works for me.
Are you grumpy yet? You seem like you might be getting grumpy. Yeah, you definitely seem like you’re grumpy. Is it because I keep using the word grumpy? Is that what’s making you grumpy? Because, those frown lines make you seem grumpy. Ah ha! Now you seem grumpy!
Alright, now that you’re properly irritated, let’s talk.
Ryan over there just intentionally put me in the foulest mood, and I want to complain about him doing that…
Dedication
I'd like to dedicate this, my first novel, to Mitzy and Dame Pennington. You two are calico ladies of the utmost refinement and integrity, and it is my honor to be your home-partner.
Mitzy ... oh, Mitzy. Your confidence, your willingness to stand up for yourself, your feline grace---you have taught me so much. Without you, I'd have never had the courage to write the story of noble vampire cats benignly guiding civilization’s advancement throughout the ages.
In this book, the character of Marie Curie is directly inspired by your tenacity and problem solving. Do you remember when you learned to open the dryer door and crawl inside? All on your own? I think the real Madame Curie would have been proud of that sort of ingenuity. I know I am.
And, Dame Pennington. You are my rock. Without you, I would have succumbed to that accursed scourge---the dreaded writer's block---years ago.
Often, I would hit an invisible wall when no words came, and the blank screen loomed before me, a glowing monolith. During those times, you'd simply purr, stretch your limbs, and lie down on the keyboard. As if to say, "Type on, kind artist! Marshal your strength to craft word and legend. Yours is a gift destined to be shared with a world of vampire cat aficionados."
And, thusly inspired, I would push forward, eager in my new resolve. The entire chapter on the House of Medici and its cat vampire, Felixorenza di Silvestri, was written in one day on a keyboard newly-warmed and sprinkled with soft sheddings.
I thank you, my tabby muses. I thank you with all my heart. It is only under your watchful guidance that I was able to fashion an epic "tale" out what might have been a simple “yarn.”
Oh, also, I guess I should thank my husband Lloyd for staying out of the way.
Yours in partnership,
Elizabeth Anne Winstead-Cohen
Famous Misquotes
Famous misquote from throughout history and the arts:
.
"We have nothing to fear but snakes." - Winston Churchill
.
"One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind. But, to reiterate: one tiny step for me. No big whoop." - Neil Armstrong
.
"Ich bin ein Dachshund." - John F. Kennedy
.
"Let them eat cake and/or chicken pesto penne with artisanal parmesan and a hint of truffle oil, all of which comes with their choice of soup or a chef's salad." - Marie Antoinette
.
"Today, I consider myself the pluckiest duck on the face of this big ol' shiny marble." - Lou Gehrig
.
"If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not get angry and pinch the backs of your legs?" - Shylock, Merchant of Venice
.
"To err is human, to forgive---that's amore!" - Alexander Pope
.
"We're not incandescent anymore." - Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz
.
"Ask not what your country can do for you. Thank you." - Alternate Dimension Republican JFK (with evil goatee)
.
"If this Plymouth is a'rockin', don't come a'knockin'." - Malcolm X
.
"If I have seen a little further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants fans to peek over the stadium wall." - Isaac Newton
.
"A thing of beauty is a joyful thing of foreverness.™ Diamonds by Kay." - John Keats
.
"Fools Rush In (1997 - Matthew Perry & Salma Hayek) Where Angels Fear to Tread (1991 - Helen Mirren & Judy Davis)." - Alexander Pope
.
"Today's is a turkey sandwich that will live on in my tummy." FDR
.
"You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the... no some... wait, what was I saying? Goddamnit!" - Abraham Lincoln
.
"Houston, we have a whoopsies." - Jim Lovell
.
Sense of Style
Why would you assume that I work for Bud Light? Just because my cargo van has a huge Bud Light logo on the side? That doesn't mean anything.
Would you assume any guy with a big "Chevy" sticker in his rear window works for Chevy? Of course not. Because making assumptions makes an ass out of both you and ... uh ... Assuming ... To assume that everyone’s an ass leaves the world blind.
What would you rather I have painted on my van? Some sort of wizard riding a pterodactyl over a beautiful waterfall? Yeah, that'd be amazing! I wish I had that on the side of my van! But, I'm not some fly-by-night van painter. I make my choices and I stick to them. I’d like to think that I have a unique personal style that exists outside of the whims of fads and fashion.
My van has a Bud Light logo; I wear a giant foam cowboy hat; I keep an extra grilled cheese in my fanny pack; my pink leather jacket has homemade fringe; my sunglasses are actually welder’s goggles; these plaid flannel pants tear away for hot days; my cornrows reach past my shoulder blades; I have multiple neck and wrist piercings; my sandals are made of duct tape; I have smiley face contact lenses; my blue lipstick matches my toenail polish; I wear a medieval quiver to hold my diablo sticks and juggling balls; my sideburns have a drawing of the Papa Smurf shaved into the side; my roller blades are covered with Garfield stickers. So? What of it?
Does that make you think I work for Garfield? Or that I write sexually inappropriate fan fiction about the Smurfs? Or that I can’t afford real sandals? Or that I was raised in a home without a sense of structure or love? Or that I just sort of scrounge around for a sense of identity? Or that my van has broken down on the way to Burning Man, and I need to borrow your jumper cables?
Because, a couple of those are correct.
Bully for you, Mr. Judgmental! WAY TO SOLVE THE MYSTERY! Now, can I borrow those jumper cables or what?
Proper Attire
Respectful attire and etiquette have gotten misplaced in our mixed-up, modern world. It used to be that men wore hats and ladies wore sundresses and bare feet. But, all that changed. Now, who knows what to wear?
So, as a man of impeccable refinement and taste, I have taken it upon myself to write this, a guide to proper attire in 2011. In each of these locations, consider the following as a sort of socially-accepted uniform for daily life.
The Office
Temporary Worker: Slacks or pencil skirt, blue button-down, dress shoes
Full-Time Employee: Slacks, sweater, black sneakers
IT Manager: SLAYER t-shirt, Cheetos-stained jean shorts, flip-flops
Shopping
Trader Joes: Yoga pants, Susan G. Komen t-shirt, library tote bag
Whole Foods: Wrap sweater, age-inappropriate leggings, pearls
The Container Store: Tennis skirt, diamond engagement ring, pink hoodie with raised Greek letters
Dining
Barbecue Joint: Something barbecue sauce-colored
Steakhouse: French cuff shirts and about forty extra pounds
French Restaurant: Stripped shirt, beret, neck scarf
The Theater
The Opera: Tuxedo, top hat, women's underwear
Broadway Musical: Spiderman sweatshirt, Spiderman baseball cap, Spiderman sippy cup
Movie Theater: Spiderman sweatshirt, Spiderman baseball cap, Spiderman sippy cup
Sporting Events
Golf Game: Golf shirt, golf shoes, protective cup
Kentucky Derby: Fez, leather bustier, pink camouflage kilt, foam finger
American Soccer Bar: Team scarf, team jersey, Anglophilic pretension
Ceremonies
Wedding: Wedding dress (bride), wedding suit (groom), SLAYER t-shirt and Cheetos-stained jean shorts (IT Manager cousin)
Graduation: Cap and gown, dress shoes, debt
Bat Mitzvah: An oversized tan pantsuit you’ll regret for the rest of your life
Home
The Living Room: Flannel pajamas
The Kitchen: Flannel pajamas
The Bedroom: Flannel pajamas? But I thought tonight was sexy night?
Outlet Mall Restaurants
A list of outlet mall restaurants:
[Originally published in tweet form February 2011]
Green Lobster
T.G.I.Monday’s
Crabapplebees
Chilly’s
The Cottagecheesecake Factory
The Pimento Garden
Cinnabutts
Sparrow Pizza
Windy’s
Cracker Bucket
Kansas Filleted Chicken
Rudfuckers
Reddish-Orange Julius
.
Plus, my favorite submissions from readers:
Cabybara Express . . . . from @sweaternine
Burger Duke . . . . from @nickleggin
Steakback Outhouse . . . . from @pixies1
Tooters . . . . from @chucko78
National House of Pancakes . . . . from @benryerson
California Soup Kitchen . . . . from @jennassembly
The Drug Talk
Son, sit down. I think it’s time we had a serious talk about drugs.
Don’t be nervous. I believe you when you tell me you don’t do drugs. Because, I know you wouldn't lie to me. I like to think we’re not just father and son; we’re friends.
So, as your friend, I understand that there’s a lot of peer pressure to get high. I simply ask that if you do decide to experiment, you do so here at home, where I know you’ll be safe. I don’t want you in somebody’s car or out in the woods where god-knows-what might happen. Y’know what? Bring the drugs home, and I’ll show you how to do them myself.
I’m serious. Feel free to bring home any weed or salvia or whatever the kids in your class are doing, and we’ll smoke up together in a safe, comfortable, adult atmosphere. Maybe with some classic vinyl on the stereo.
Because, here’s the thing: Drugs and alcohol are dangerous. You can get in serious trouble or even killed. Unless you know exactly what you’re doing.
Okay, go over to the closet and grab me that shoebox from the top shelf … Thank you. This is a vaporizer. This will deliver all the HTC straight into you like a gunshot. I’m showing you this, because this is the kind of thing you’ll want to stay away from. This is too advanced for you. You’ll probably want to start out with something simple, like this skull bong over here.
Listen, as your father, I’m totally fine with you experimenting and finding yourself, but only up to a point. ‘Shrooms are okay, but I do not want you trying cocaine or LSD. If someone offers you coke or LSD or even ecstasy, I insist that you bring those home immediately and hand them over to me to dispose of properly.
I love you, and I just want what's best for you, Son.
Here’s what I want you to do: I want you to take this eighty dollars and go to the parking lot behind the Ace Hardware. Tell a guy named Dusty that I sent you. Then, ask for a type of marijuana called Acapulco Tittyfuck. Don't write that down; just remember it. If he tries to push off something called Dunkweed, I want you to just say no.
Because, that shit is weak as hell.
Now, hurry up. Kung Fu Hustle is coming on Showtime at midnight, and we’ll need some provisions. I would take you there myself, but this monitoring ankle bracelet doesn’t reach past the mailbox.
Last Will, Testament and Murderers
"Last Will, Testament & Probable Murderers"
Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.
.
[Text of the above audio.]
As I lie here in bed, dying of a deadly butt fungus, I have decided to record this, my last will and testament and list of my probable killers.
I, Reginald Henry Leopold, being of sound mind and body, hereby bequeath/accuse the following:
To my first likely killer, Jonathan --- I know it was you who killed me. As a mycologist, you had ample access to the many rare strains of butt fungus.
To you, I leave my dog, Buttons. She is a wretched little Yorkie who's never been house-trained and requires three insulin injections per day. You deserve it for murdering me.
To my second likely killer, Samantha Gurdy-Jones --- If Jonathan was not my killer, it most certainly was you. You're the only person who makes regular trips to the Amazon, where you could have easily bought deadly butt fungus on the black market. Also, I know you have never forgiven me for forcing the maid to give you up for adoption.
As my only legal heir, I leave you my mansion and collection of vintage automobiles. Please note, though, that I plan on haunting everything.
To my third possible murderer, Jenkins --- If neither my fungi-scientist lover nor my illegitimate daughter killed me, that must mean you are my murderer. You could easily have laced my hot tub with virulent fungus, knowing that I would be placing my butt in it.
To you I leave one million dollars. Because, if indeed you felt the need to kill me, that must mean that I never told you how much I appreciated all the hard work you've done over the years.
If in fact you didn't murder me, think of the million as a thank you for not killing me. Also for all the hard work.
To my fourth possible killer, Buttons --- I never in my life would have guessed it was you who killed me. You're just an wittle-bitty doggie. But, with all the other suspects cleared, that leaves you.
To you, I leave controlling ownership of the Charleston Shuckers, a minor league soccer team I won in a poker match. Be firm yet encouraging with them.
To my last possible killer, Marie --- It probably wasn't Buttons. She's a terribly mean-spirited dog, but she has no opposable thumbs, which are pretty essential for murder. And, looking back on it, the promise you made me to "never kill me using a rare butt fungus" seems quite suspicious after the fact.
To you, I leave the boat.
Thus ends my last will and testament. If any relatives remaining seek an unclaimed portion of my estate, please avenge my murder, and we'll see what happens from there.
Signed and notarized,
R. H. Leopold III
