I know it’s hard to believe but once upon a time I was actually this straight edge kid. It’s kind of wild to think about considering the person I am now but it’s true. Back then I wouldn’t even think about huffing on that Devil’s Lettuce. Which is ironic considering how I don’t spend too many days without it.

It may sound crazy but I remember exactly where and when I popped my Mary Jane cherry. It was in the back of my buddy’s Tahoe. There was him of course and his best friend were in the front seat, then these two girls in the middle bucket seats, who were the only reason why I decided to make that my first time, and then me in the back. I was crushing on one of those girls hard back in the day and was looking for anyway to get her attention. There was no way I could say no. It felt like cupid was opening this door for me.

Fast forward ten years later and I’ve turned into a living version of Shaggy Rogers. That is if you replace Scooby Snacks with those Troli candy and you couldn’t tell the difference. You would think that ten years of hanging out in the basement of That’s 70 Show I would have quiet a resumé to know how to roll myself a joint.

Unfortunately that isn’t the case. I have no idea how to roll anything but a meatball. I haven’t smoked out of anything besides a piece of glass or a joint or blunt someone has rolled. When I started smoking everyone had already grown out of their “hiding it from their parents” phased and stop using apples or soda cans and started rolling their own shit to smoke.

When I came around to hop on that Mary J train, all my friends have already had their fair share of rides. I never had to know how to roll something myself. It wasn’t until today, after twenty seven year of walking this planet, after ten years of puffing on that doja, I have finally rolled my first joint. At least I call it a joint, I don’t care if it looks likes a twig. I rolled that shit, there’s years of determination, sweat, and tears that had gone into rolling my first joint and let me tell you it has finally paid off.

If you need a Jizzy from Trizzy feel free to hit me up. I’m doing the first one’s free but you have to order at least two. I can assure you they’re only getting better.

P.S. Needless to say it wasn’t that girl from my first smoke session who Cupid was making me fall in love with, it was Mary Jane herself.

There was this guy who used to spend his nights at the bar. He didn’t know anyone, he wasn’t ominous, he was just confident. A thing that seems to be equally appealing as it is imitating these days. You question what kind of insanity it takes to sit at a bar alone but at the same time, you want to hear his story, intrigued that someone could sit at a bar alone.

Either perception you had of him was right. He was this crazy man on the run, pushing the limits of the world just to see where they draw the line. He was this man who had a life, found love, and had more stories to tell then he had time. He was a man that when you looked into his eyes, you could see he was a real man.

His eyes were too poised to show you all of his fear. His heart was filled with too much love he never let it out so it would never be wasted again. He was a man that knew what he wanted and knew how to get by until he finally found it. In his search for love, he may not have always made the right decisions, maybe he’s the villain in more than one person’s story, but it’s never stopped his pursuit for happiness. 

I’m still learning everyday. Even now, twenty seven years in, I can admit that I don’t know shit about life. Not everyones going to make their dreams come true. Not everyone is going to be who you thought they were and part of growing up is learning that that’s okay. Life throws everyone curves balls sometimes before we’re ready for them, but we’re all doing the best we can to get by.

You know how it goes; the good die young, assholes finish first, and we never get to say goodbye to the people that mean the most to us. Life seems to be this game that comes with no rules or instructions. There’s no rhyme or reason or higher deity out there pulling the strings on this whole thing. It’s just life.

No parent should every have to bury a their child. No one should die before they reach the stars they’ve been chasing. No one should have to grow up alone without anyone in their corner. It just seems like we’re all going through our life either prolonging one of those inevitable bad days we have nightmares about or are actually out here living out our nightmares as a reality.

There’s no telling when our day will come. That old lady with the voice box that’s still smoking cigarettes collecting desk, may out live that high school five star athlete and that’s just life. It does’t matter how you live it or what we do. In the blink of an eye, just as quickly as it takes us to pull out of our driveway, or be the designated driver, responsibility taking everyone home, shit happens, and it can all be over in the blink of an eye without our control.

I think we forget how fragile and how little we are on this planet. Cutting people off at intersections, walking by people who need help in as simple as ways as to loading their groceries, for what? To get home quicker so we can finish that show we were watching? Have we completely lost touch with what’s important in our lives? Are we not aware how much of a miracle it is that our bodies are able to wake up, breath, and walk us from our beds to the bathroom each morning?

How may people do you know that aren’t able to do that? How many people do you know that can no longer do that? Can you call your mom to say hi? Does anyone have a mom they can call? Do people even have anyone left in their corner anymore? Do people even know that they’re not alone? Are they alone in their life? Life sucks for everyone and I will never understand how people can be so cruel in this world.

I’ve never seen a block of gold in my life. I have no idea what the gold standard is or what it even means. I mean of course I’ve heard of gold but it just doesn’t seem real to me. The only gold I have ever known is from Austin Powers. Otherwise gold is just one of the many colors that comes in the Crayola sixty four pack.

I couldn’t even tell you how much a dollar cost. All I know about the dollar is that there are some places on this earth where you can get more for your dollar and other places where it takes you two dollars to get one. But there are those places where you can take a hundred dollar bill and live like a King.

One thing I know is that a thousand miles from here my dollar was worth more. I’ve never actually done the math to figure out what the difference in cost of living was, I just know that when I ordered Dominos it only cost me twenty six forty eight. Now I order the exact same thing around here; it cost me forty five sixty.

The only measurement I have to know how much my dollar cost is Dominos. How much is the Dominos near you for two large bacon pizza and some garlic bread? All I’m saying is you can find me living next door to whatever Dominos stretch my dollar. The place where I can live like a king.

Guys don’t wash their hands, I don’t care what you may hear them say. The only time we say we wash our hands is if there are girls present. The unspoken rule about guy code for washing our hands is; if we shit we wash our hands. There are only two exceptions to this rule; if we piss on our hands or if there’s another guy already washing their hands in the bathroom.

I spend most of my days on job sites and we don’t even have sinks to wash our hands. Instead we get an empty hand sanitizer dispenser. There’s not even a chance for any of us to wash our hands before we eat, let alone when we leave the bathroom. It doesn’t matter if we have dirt, piss, shit, we could never wash our hands if we wanted too.

There I was walking to one of the two porter johns we had on our job site to take one last piss before my drive home right. I was maybe twenty feet away from the Porter John, too far too see if it was occupied, but yet close enough to smell one of the shitters being over used, when someone kicked open the door the bathroom.

Normally I keep my head down, avoid all eye contact, and go straight for the urinal, but something compelled me to see who just came out. Turns out it was an old friend I haven’t seen since high school. At that moment of nostalgia impulse and emotions took over all logical thinking and physical actions.

Excited to see my ole pal I dapped him up and brought him in for a hug full of love. We stood there shooting the shit (no pun intended there) dapping each other up three or four times saying bye each time, but accidentally continuing conversation until we inevitably have our last goodbye and our twelfth handshake. It wasn’t until I the hand sanitizer dispenser to no prevail when I finished peeing that I realized what I had just done… I just touched his dick.

It was an in direct touch of course, nor intentional, but it’s impossible to get any closer to touching someones else’s lunchbox than that. He wasn’t even outside of the porter john long enough for the wind or oxygen to clear the scent of his Johnson. His hands were as dry and clammy as any unsantitized construction workers would be at the end of the work day and I had my paws all over his.

I wasted two bottles of water washing my hands in dirt just to diminish the germs from his pecker on my hand. There was no way I was going to touch one my tools or even my steering wheel with his member’s germs all over my hands. It’s why from now on I am going to become a hand washer. It’s not just for myself, but it’s for the greater good. I want to help stop the spread of male cuties.

I’ve been such an advocator for subtitles since the beginning. Recently though I’ve been growing away from them. I feel like from a cinematic aspect I’ve been missing out on some of the pivotal moments they portray in the movies. I’ve become too busy listening to them talk while I’m reading the words on the bottom of the screen that I essentially miss all of the cinamatology during the films. It’s got to the point to where I forgot what a Guy Richie film was like.

In an ignorant and optimistic view on watching tv, I tell myself that the subtitles make me feel like I’m working out my brain by reading. Well in reality it does nothing but tarsi our brains, even if we’re reading. To me it feels nice to be able to see all of the letters that make up all of the words they say. Subtitles are the only reason why I’m could consider watching a show like Game of Thrones. A show with all that old english dialog I can’t understand without the subtitles.

On the flip side of this subtitles argument it completely ruined my movie last night. There I was setting myself up for a three hour nail bitter. I had my popcorn next to me, my drink filled, and confirmed that I had the subtitles on. The movies started off with this ominous guy breathing into the phone. Before he even said a word, the subtitles clarified his name, letting us know exactly who it was breathing into this phone. This was the first and only time we heard his name, his voice, or even knew he existed until the last reveal at the very end of the movie. Clearly enough of a cliff hanger to leave room for another film that I knew about before I even knew what I needed to know after watching that movie.

I just was the idiot that left the subtitles on and spoiled the entire movie, wasting three hours of my life, for something I found out immediately. I ca’t even think of one good example of subtitles use. Honestly the exact same situation happened to me for a second time the next night.

I was watching Entourage for the forty with time and just now learnt the name of the character that plays Ari’s wife. I mean if you search up her name on IMDB it says her name is Ari’s wife. Which is wicked cool, but I accidentally left the subtitles on and saw that her name is in fact Melissa. Reading that kind of ruined the show for me. Being named Mrs. Ari is way cooler.

There the subtitles were again, blowing my mind and ruining everything I’m watching. I refuse to watch anything with subtitles and let them tarnish things for me. The only time I would ever consider using subtitles are if they’re in a different language. At least if I use them that way it’ll be productive.

Growing up I was that typical high testosterone firey kid. A short fuse or some dynamite as other would refer me to. If there was a spark I was right there eager to light that fire. As I’ve been growing and maturing things have changed. I’ve gone from being a warmonger to more of a pacifist.

Nowadays I won’t even hurt a fly. In my experienced days I’ve grown to appreciate the simpler things in life. Like how hard it is to be where we are in this world. It was the other day when I had this epiphany. My morning started just as any other with the birds chirping, freshly arriving back north from the winter. Their morning hymn woke me up peacefully before my alarm screeched through my ears.

I rose from my bed, sucked in the morning air, and raced to the bathroom to take a load off. Sitting on the porcelain throne that sat in the center of my house, I noticed the smallest, baby ant crawling across my bathroom floor. Back in the day I would have squashed that thing like I was grape stomping.

Like the sun rose creating a fresh new day, so did my heart, pure and full of love. Instead I sat there wondering how long or how far has this ant been traveling to reach the third floor of this apartment. Not only that how long but how did his little legs traverse his way to all the way up third floor?

What normally is a eight minute ordeal for me in the morning became this half hour of this spiritual awakening. How hard is it for me to go to work and come home to food that I can pick up an instant? This poor ant has been climbing for weeks or maybe months or maybe even hibernating each year until he finally now made it to the top for what? To get squished by a human foot they thought they could hold. I’m certain they intended to have more of a purpose for their life then just that

I can’t kill insects anymore. If they find their way to my apartment they deserve whatever they’re looking for. Who am I to choose if they should live or die. If I was living on the first floor it’d be a different story. It would be war, they’d be introducing on my personal space. But up here in the third floor, if they make it there, they earned their place to call it home. It’s the least I can do.

Our social life is pretty simple. It started back in sixth grade when we got our first cell phones. Flip phones or not our hangouts became more than just riding our bikes around town, jaywalking the streets, and stealing those 25 cent laffy taffy’s from 7/11. Those were childish days, we graduated from those days. The cell phones were our segway to leave our own zip code and branch out to the rest of the world. That was of course, as long as we could call another mother to pick us up when we’re done and back before dinner.

When you’re a kid and you’re finally able to roam free without any adult supervision you feel invincible. There isn’t any other place in the world to be a disobedient youth than the mall. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of summer, the mall always has their ac cranking to keep us cool. It’s the same place we would get dropped off in the winter time just so we could be warm and all be together out of the house. We’d run into all of our friends doing the same thing, messing with the old guys that are there as much as we are.

I remember it was as quickly as our summer vacation turned into us getting ready for seventh grade that year. Those mall rat days came and gone. In the blink of an eye we became too old and too cool to be hanging out at the mall anymore. We were on the break of losing our ignorance and opening our lives to what life truly is.

It’s not till our last days does our social life come full circle. Just as when we’re first born shitting in diapers because we don’t know how to control our bowel movements we end our life the same way… shitting our pants just as we started just someone new changing our diapers.

There we are calling our friends on the same old phones we grew up with calling to meet up at the mall. Then we call our rides to make sure they can drop us off and pick us when we’re done. So there we are the same crew hanging out at the mall but instead of reeking havoc like we used to we’ve become those old guys we used to point fun of. That’s when it clicks, in the blink of our eyes; that’s the circle of life.

As a guy it’s only fair to admit that most of the things we do are in hopes of being able to get intimate with someone we connect with. It’s the only reason why any of us go to bars, it’s the only reason why we dance like idiots at the clubs, and precisely why we do all of the nice things we do for others. We just crave that physical kind of love language. 

There’s a million ways to set the tone and create an intimate vibe that would let one thing lead to another but to say is the best move is impossible. There’s more variables that go into a good time than just both parties saying yes. You have to create a vibe where they say yes before you can even ask. Sometimes it takes more than a nice dinners, or some fancy freshly picked flowers, or a new movie that just came out on Netflix to get into someone’s pants. There’s this art to be alluring and promiscuous that some people can just do unknowingly and find themselves accidentally between someone’s legs. I have never been one of the guys. I’ve found myself more in the category of putting on a High School Musical and hoping for the best. I don’t know anything, all I know is what movies work and which movies don’t.

One thing I do know is that the sounds of a romance movie are far more romantic and even seductive than those of a stand up show or some action packed drama. During a romantic movie all you have to do is follow along to the moves of the guy winning over the girl’s heart. When he grabs her hand you garb hers. When they kiss you go for it with the sounds of Noah calling for Allie in the background creating the ambiance. It’s like you’re not sure if it’s you making these movies or if it’s from the direction of Nicholas Sparks that are igniting the fires of the night. That’s at least if you can agree on a Nicholas Sparks movie to watch.

I’m only writing to advocate everyone to watch the cliche romance movie. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made and play anything else, especially a stand up show. There’s nothing more emasculating to us males than when things begin to get all hot and spicy and we hear a laugh stop all momentum. I don’t care if it’s a laugh that comes from the movie in the background or if it’s something funny Kevin Hart said, or a joke you have been thinking about all day long. Hearing a giggle coming from a girl who has me completely vulnerable will always end the night.

All I’m saying you have to pick the right movie to watch because it can make or break the entire night. What you may have put on as background music damn near may be something they actually want to watch and keep on watching. You go from one moment thinking you’re going to have that intimate connection to finding out that Mona is actually A from Pretty Little Liars

Just as my dream depicted a few months ago, it happened. My tooth has seen better days and has finally chipped off. It was nothing like my dream. In all honesty I would have rather it have chipped the way it did in my dreams. It was more mainly to admit my tooth got chipped by my drill at work or playing hockey. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

There’s no cool story about how it happened. Someone’s knee hit my face and that was enough to knock it loose. Ten minutes later when I went to eat my pancakes I noticed they had a little bit more of a crunch. My tooth fell off like a dying fall leaf from the tree.

There I was sitting there with a plate full of pancakes and half of my tooth in my hand at nine o’clock at night completely flabbergasted. After all this time I was on my parents insurance, getting hit in the face, or even falling on my face, and I had no issue. It’s only right that as soon as I went on my own, before I even had the chance to get my own dental insurance, my tooth chips like one of those car warranties that are made to end the week before your car starts to fall apart.

I had work the next day. I was going to be out in public all day long and looking like Lloyd Christmas. The only way I was planning on getting through the next day was without smiling at all. Which I figured wasn’t going to be that hard to do since I’m the funny guy at work, I mean who else was going to make everyone laugh?

Current Update: It took three seconds for everyone at work to notice the chip in my tooth. The guys I typically work with waited no time making fun of me and giving me all of these new nicknames before they started to be concerned with what happened. Other people who I’m not as close with also noticed it just as quickly but instead of mentioning it they would just stare at it. Turns out the little chip I thought I was going to be able to hide became this impossible task. Evidently it can be seen from even feet away.

Deja Vu

I predicted this would happen.

I’m not a video game guy. I never have been one and most likely will spend the rest of my life not being one… unless we’re talking about Wii Sports. It’s the only game/ workout I do. The only thing I know about video games is all the jokes these girls make about their man playing them. As far as I can tell it seems as though some of these guys care more about their video games missions rather than their girlfriend’s feelings.

I mean I’m not complaining about their lack of interest or attention, they’ve been neglecting their girls, it has fortunately worked out for me in the past but that’s besides the fact. I just never understood how some animated, fictional story could be more riveting than someone’s spouse. That was until I dated a girl who loves SIMS.

Truthfully I had no idea this game still existed. Apparently it’s the first update they’ve had in years and it’s been blowing up. I don’t completely understand the game but it has this whole cult behind it. It’s only been seventy two hours since the upgrade came out and I’ve yet to have a conversation with my girlfriend.

I now know what it feels like to be all those girls who are neglected or put on the back burner by their boyfriend when whatever new game comes out. There I was sitting next to her on the couch, completely invisible as her eyes were glued onto her phone while I recited the entire High School Musical movie without missing a line. For three days the only time we shared was in bed and even then we spent it sleeping.

There she was, living the life she has always dreamt about without me inside her phone. She had the house with the white picket fence. She could decorate it however she wanted because money was no issue. She even had this little love affair going on with her character and whoever this other guy she created was… this man of her dreams. She had all of her dreams in the palm of her hands as I sat there next to her living mine.

I guess at least she’s doing well in her game.