Carn Horn Guide
On the streets of New York, you’ll hear a lot of car horns. A whole lot. And, you don’t always know what they mean. Well, let me provide you with a quick guide:
Beep – The single beep usually says, “Hey, pedestrians, don’t cross against the light. I’m still coming through in my car.
Honnnkkk– The extended single honk says, “Hey, asshole, you’re the twelfth pedestrian to cross against the light. Get out of my way!”
Honk Beep Beep – The single honk with two beeps explains to a double-parked UPS truck, “Hello. I understand that you have packages to drop off. But, you’ve been blocking the street for forty seconds, and you have another ten before I get out with my golf club.”
Beep Honnnkkk – The short beep and long honk says, “I am a taxi cab in the process of cutting you off, but I’m pretending it’s your fault.”
Honk Honk– The double-tap honk says, “Hello, Ma’am, I enjoy your sexy outfit. Also, I am a scumbag.”
Haaaaaannnnnnk – The extended, nasal honk says, “My Plymouth Duster is about 300,000 miles past busted. I’m not even pressing the horn; I just hit a pothole, and it started on its own.”
Beeeeep Beeeeep – The extended double beep says, “I’m violently angry at the world, but I’m stuck inside this Mini Cooper.”
Ahhooogaaa – The classic ahhooogaaa says, “I’m driving my antique Model-T in this parade. We’re having wholesome fun!”
Honk Honnnkkk Honnnkkk – The single honk followed by an extended double honk says, “Vanessa! Get your ass downstairs! These Rangers tickets cost me $200!”
Beeeeeeeeeeep – The super-extended beep says, “My tiny brain can’t process why traffic exists! Now, I'm mad about paying taxes! Now, I'm hungry, which is making me more angry! Curse my tiny brain!”
Honk Honk Honk – The standard triple honk usually says, “Heads up! I am a bad driver.”
My Crew’s Dance Battle
My dance crew is having a mad huge dance battle this Saturday in some crunk old warehouse down on Pier 12. You all need to get there, ‘cause it’s set to be sick, yo. Maybe bring with you some cheese or a bottle of wine.
What all was that Reisling we had at your house warming party? That was scary grapefruity. Yo, you gotta bring that Reisling to my crew’s dance battle. They mad love Reisling.
We're up against the Phat Imposturz, and better believe we’re bringing it. Hard. Those punks best start prayin', ‘cause they're 'bout to get schooled.
Speaking of, how’s Dakota’s new Montessori school? I rolled by on my way to yoga, and that school is stupid beautiful, Son. That mural of the Earth and the Moon holding hands? Them shits is mad lovely. Yo, you gotta hit me up on whether or not they do peanut-free for my lil’ thug, Dashiell.
But, yo, you gotta come to my dance battle. It’s gonna be crazy! Everybody’s coming--Sweet Pete, Drrrty Munk, Leslie, Gail, Bernie from accounting, Mrs. Hawthorn, Tight Rydz. Son, I ain't seen Bernie from accounting in a minute! And, remember that little 'hood girl from down in payroll? Ruth Epstein? You know she’s gonna be there!
I tell you, Son, this Hip Hop/Jazz/Tap class at the YMCA is the best thing I’ve done since those pastry lessons back in the day. I can't wait for y'all to check my crew's dance battle/class recital.
Do Not Push This Button!
In case of emergency, please do not press this button. This is not an emergency button. This button is only to be pushed in an ultra emergency. Like a super duper emergency emergency. That’s why it’s labeled “Ultra Super Emergency Emergency Button.”
In case of an ultra super emergency, please, still do not press this button. First, seek out an authority to determine if this is an actual ultra super emergency emergency. You do not have the training or instincts to differentiate between the two.
Don’t believe me? Let me ask you this: When was the last time you got an emergency haircut? Ah ha! See? Gotcha! There is no such thing. Clearly, if you think a haircut can be an emergency, you can’t be trusted to judge an ultra super emergency emergency. Leave that up to the professionals.
So, essentially, never press this button—this tempting, red, waiting-for-it button. Even though it’s obviously meant to be pressed at some point. Even though this ultra super emergency emergency button is just begging to be pressed by someone. Someone like you. Do not press this button.
Do you hear me? You are not to press this button. Period.
Unless, of course, it’s a mega big-time like crazy scary emergency emergency. Then, it’s imperative that you press this button. If that's the case, then you’re our only hope.
Lost and Found
Hello? Lost and Found? Yeah, I'm calling because I think I lost something expensive at your hotel. Has anyone turned in something expensive?
Sure, I can describe it. The thing I lost was a … computer. Anyone turn in a laptop? No? Shoot, I must have lost that at another hotel. I stay at a lot of hotels. I’m an important business guy, and I lose stuff, because I get distracted by important business deals. I’m sure you understand.
What I lost at your hotel was a … wallet. No wait! It was a watch. Has anyone turned in a watch there? They have? Great!
Uh, yeah sure, I can be more detailed. It has a face and a wristband and numbers. It’s a man’s watch, but some people could think it was a woman’s watch, because it could look slender to some people. Although, others could think it looked very big and masculine. Color? Well, it’s kind of gold-ish platinum. In some light it looks gold, sometimes platinum.
It’s very sentimental to me, because it was my father-in-law’s. It might have an engraving on the back. At the same time, you might not be able to see the engraving, because it could be worn off. Oh, you can see an engraving? M.W.L.? Yes, those were my pappy-in-law’s initials. Milton Walter … La … La … Lobster. Yup, I know, weird last name. We called him Pappy Lobster. I loved him so much, and it was his dying wish that I get his watch from the war. That one war.
You found it? Terrific! I’ll be right over. As soon as the bus comes. Which hotel is this, by the way? I forgot.
Dream Interpretations
Here’s a quick guide to interpreting your dreams. Remember, every person is different. But, in general, the following dreams suggest common thoughts or fears from your waking life.
You are late for a test. This dream usually means that you are feeling under-confident about an upcoming task at work. Or, maybe you feel harshly judged in your social interactions.
You dream your teeth are falling out/breaking. This dream suggests fear of mortality and aging. It may also refer to worries of loss of beauty.
You dream you can fly. This means that you actually can fly if you believe hard enough. Don’t jump off a building or anything, but you can probably fly. Try easing into it by belly flopping into a pool, but at the last second don’t land.
You realize you’re naked during a presentation. This dream means you are allergic to something. Maybe your cat. Or strawberries. It could also mean that you regret buying a DVD player recently now that Blu-rays are coming down in price.
You dream you’re being chased by a stranger. This one means you’re a racist. What, just because he’s wearing a hoodie, you automatically assume he’s black? Have you ever stopped and turned around in this dream? Maybe this guy’s running to catch the train. Racist.
You dream you’re falling. Again, you can fly. This dream’s about how you’re lame for never having tried the belly flop thing.
You dream you’re a movie star. This one means a movie star accidently got his or her dream mixed up with yours. So, somewhere in Hollywood, some millionaire is wondering why he’s dreaming about his cranky boss at the bank.
Your house/apartment is flooding. This is means that you are currently peeing the bed. Wake up, you drunk! You’re peeing the bed!
You dream you can’t find your shoes. You are in love with your dental hygienist.
You dream you are having sex with multiple partners. I’m not sure. This one could mean a lot of things. Please, describe it in greater detail, and be as graphic as possible, because this helps me interpret your dream.
You dream you saw me sneak money out of your wallet when you left the table. Ignore this one. This one’s just a dream.
You dream your company picnic has been infiltrated by Russian spies, and they’re trying to steal the Frisbee, because it has microfiche taped to it with the secrets to the Lost series finale. But, you can’t figure out which people are spies, because everyone is dressed up as teddy bears, because you work at a teddy bear costume factory. This dream means that leftover taco from the back of your fridge was, indeed, spoiled.
You dream you win the lottery. Yeah, keep dreamin’, Buddy.
Let’s Steal A Baby!
Honey, I’ve been thinking about it for awhile now, and I think we’re ready. We’ve been married for three years, and let’s face it; we’re not getting any younger. I think it’s time we steal a baby.
Let’s just do it. Our folks keep bugging us about grandkids, and maybe they’re right. Mike and Danielle, Ryan and Pauline, Ben and Jessica—they’ve all started families. It’s time we bite the bullet, steal a baby, and raise it as our own.
I know you’re worried about money and our careers. I’m only pulling so much in kiting checks, and you’re still getting the hang of rolling old men behind your strip club. But, who said you have to be absolutely 100% prepared before you can bring a child into your lives?
I think we’re in a good place, a place where we’re mature and emotionally ready to walk into a maternity ward and kidnap a cute little bundle of joy. I’ve already thought of a few names. If it’s a boy—Dillinger. If it’s not a boy—Rockstar. Or Lil’ Slugger. That was my grandmother’s name.
Listen, I love you, and I know you would make an incredibly nurturing mother/abductor. Remember the time that balloon of coke popped in my colon? You were so gentle and caring, and you had the maternal instincts to take me to that corrupt vet, Viggo. I’m sure he could recommend a good, corrupt pediatrician.
I don’t care what kind of baby we steal, as long as it had 10 fingers and 10 toes. And, if it comes already in its own car seat, that would be great, because those things are expensive.
What do you say, Honey? Are you ready to steal a baby with me?
I hope it has your nose.
Jump Starting Your Juggling Career
Here are 10 easy steps to take your professional juggling to the next level:
Step 1 First off, you should realize that you are pretty goofy looking. I mean, with that hairstyle, I assume it’s intentional. Just make sure you own it and move on.
Step 2 Master the fundamentals. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen a so-called professional who can’t even get five chainsaws in the air. These are the basics, people. Lock ‘em down.
Step 3 Get a good stage name. Something bar mitzvah friendly.
Step 4 Work on your banter. Silence shows you’re struggling with a trick. Fill your onstage routine with uncontroversial topics like Sarah Palin or slavery reparations—stuff that won’t distract from your act.
Step 5 Avoid romantic relationships. The guys making it big in the juggling industry are out there every night, hitting the juggling clubs for stage time. A girlfriend will only slow you down.
Step 6 Find a good manager. There are thousands of showbiz agents chomping at the bit to find the next big juggling act. Look on craigslist. If any ask for your credit card number, that’s just a test to see if you’re cool. Are you cool?
Step 7 Plaid pants. Rainbow suspenders. Never the reverse.
Step 8 Don’t water down your show with non-juggling. Balloon animals are awesome; I’m the first one in line for balloon animals. But, balloon animals won’t get you laid. And, that’s what this is all about, right?
Step 9 Your juggling set should always progress in order of difficulty. For example: balls, clubs, knives, flaming clubs, flaming knives, chainsaws, sedated chickens, newspapers, awake chickens, slinkies, flaming slinkies.
Step 10 Treat every show like it might be your last. Because, you never know. I’ve seen you juggling knives, and you’re not very good.