This blog explores the breadth and depth of just how truly horrible I am at being an adult.


Sunday, August 31, 2008

I use the 'Missed Connections' section on Craig's List.

I don't know if you read these things, but it's worth a shot...

You were in Golden Gate Park yesterday morning. The way the early afternoon light struck your face as you talked to the pigeons... I gasped when I saw you. And it wasn't just because I was shocked at the fact that you had black trash bags on for shoes. I mean, that was part of it, but it was also how well-decorated your shopping cart was. Were those cat skulls I saw glued to the front? I wish I could have gotten a closer look.

You saw me, I think. Maybe the sun was in your eyes. Maybe you were blackout drunk from drinking from that jug of turpentine.

But you turned towards me and smiled that big semi-toothed smile at me. I hope you weren't just hallucinating that I was your abusive stepfather coming back from the dead to reconcile with you. Because I'm not.

I'm just a boy who's smitten with a homeless lady. At least I hope you're a lady (I've been wrong before).

I was wearing J.Crew chinos, loafers, and a green Polo. You threw a handful of acorns in my general direction. Why? Are you too shy for my attention?

I hope you make it to a public library soon so you can use the Internet and read this post. And so you can bathe in the restroom.


Tuesday, August 19, 2008

I start school today!

In just a few hours, my tenure at law school begins. I think it'll be over just a few hours when they realize what a complete fraud I am and how little I deserve to be there. But here's my list of what I have to pack for my big day!

(Note: My law school only provided me with a partial list of what I'll need for them, so this list right here is partially informed by my list from my time list before I entered 4th Grade at St. Vincent's Elementary School)

Civil Procedure 7th Edition, Yeazell et al., Aspen Publishers, New York City, 2008.
RoseArt Crayons, 24 Pack. (Oh man, I'm gonna get made fun of, cuz everyone knows RoseArt is the cheap brand and they break if you apply
any pressure to them)
Blue Dockers, White Keds, White Polo (Tucked in at all times), Blue Sweatshirt with St. Vincent's Logo.
Computer with LawExam Software installed
No POGS allowed. (That's good, cuz I don't want any of those soulless future-lawyers stealing my Slammers)
A knife with which to stab my classmates/grade-competitors in the back. (Oddly, this is on both the list for law school and grammar school)
A really bad haircut that I will be embarrassed by in 10 years.
Post-It Sticky Notes
Snap bracelets
One Hi-Liter per class
One Valentine Card per student in class (Why do I have to give one to everyone?)

Oh man, I'm sure I'm gonna forget something! Everyone's gonna laugh at me!

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

I have no clean clothes.

A letter to myself about what a fucking idiot I am.

Dear Tony,
You're a fucking idiot. You're at work, writing your stupid goddamn blog. In dirty, old clothes that don't even fit you. Because you're a total 'tard.

All of your clothes are at the cleaners. You clearly did not think this one through. You should bring your work clothes to the cleaners before you totally fucking run out of anything to wear.

You make me sick. And not just because a sweet, meaty stench is arising from the poorly-tended clothes you managed to scrape together this morning from the bottom of your closet, but also because you are so dumb it makes me nauseous.

That pair of pants? When's the last time you wore those? Your eighth-grade graduation? Cuz they pinch you at your waist (lay off the PBR, fatty) and they are short at your ankles. By the way, your socks are navy blue, not black like you thought they were this morning. And I'm not the first person to notice. Everyone else in the office saw it. I'm embarrassed for you.

Why are your sleeves rolled up, Tony? Oh, is it because you're wearing a cheap shirt you got on sale at the Gap Outlet and its sleeves are too long, seemingly tailored for Stretch Armstrong? Not only was it at the Gap Outlet, it was on the clearance rack. Did you think the thing was gonna fit you like a dream? It was $4.99 and the cuffs go past your fingertips. And I can see your undershirt through it. And I can see your nipples through your undershirt. Fatty.

You need to take a fucking girl with you next time you shop.

Oh, I forgot, you're a bearded loser in San Francisco, a city full of bearded losers. And they all like your cool 'underground' music. (Oh you're soooooooo trendy!) But, guess what, all the other bearded losers dress better than you. So good luck finding a girl to go with you anywhere.


P.S. Everyone in the office went out for drinks yesterday and you weren't invited.

Monday, August 11, 2008

RIP Isaac Hayes and Bernie Mac

Two black icons died over the weekend, and the world will assuredly be a different place without them.

Bernie Mac was one of those comedians that helped shed light on the differences between black people and white people. "Black folks act like this while white folk act like this." I think the main difference is that black people thought Bernie Mac was funny. Jk Jk. Lol. That's not true, because if it were, I would be the blackest man on the planet, because I found Mr. Mac hilarious. And I, for the record, am not the blackest man on the planet.

And God bless Isaac Hayes, another very funny, iconic African American who left us this weekend. God bless him and his shaft. Er. I mean, God Bless his breakout single 'Theme to Shaft.' Between that song and his South Park-based 'Suck My Chocolate Balls,' I think the American public knows more about Mr. Hayes' genitalia than any other recording artist since (insert dated reference to R. Kelly or Michael Jackson here).

They'll both be missed.

PS. I'm really glad Morgan Freeman is gonna pull through following a serious car crash in Hollywood last week. Because who will I imagine is providing the narratorial soundtrack to my life if he dies?

Friday, August 1, 2008

Reason I'm a Good Adult #1: I have a beard

From time to time I will do something that negates earlier statements as to my horribleness as an adult. I hope to document such instances in a segment I'd like to call "Reasons I'm a Good Adult."

I have a beard. An occasionally patchy and always reddish beard, but a beard nonetheless.

You know who else has a beard?
Rasputin. And this guy. And celebrities at their absolute worst (here, here, and here). That's some pretty bad company.

But you know who is some
good bearded company? Ernest Hemingway.

You may be saying to yourself, 'But, Tony, wasn't Hemingway a womanizing alcoholic in such a constant need of a fix that he would go so far as drinking rubbing alcohol for a fix? Wasn't he so crazy that he submitted himself to electroshock therapy? And didn't he, you know, improvise a Jackson Pollock painting using only a wall, his brain, and a shotgun?'

I agree. I mean, I like Hemingway as much the next guy. The Old Man and The Sea? Ferdinand the Bull? For Whom the Bell Tolls? All classics. But he did do some pretty crazy shit in his life.

True, true, my friends. But all that stuff is child's play (not to be confused with the 1988 horror movie of the same name) with the following mindfuck of a photo.

"Oh, hey Ernie. I didn't realize you had taken up a part-time job being understudy for an Off-Broadway production of Home Alone 2: Lost in New York"

Look how obviously batshit crazy he is. And the best part is that he doesn't have a beard in this photo. That clean, beardless face that is only hiding that horrifically insane mind vindicates every bearded man in the universe because it shows that maybe MAYBE having a beard made one person at least a little less crazy.