Facebook Frustrations

I’ve had it up to here (hand raised over head) with awful Facebook status updates! The social networking site is being saturated with ego-maniacs who absolutely MUST tell me every little thing about their life. I’m pretty sure Facebook was not created so we can all learn about how stuffed you are from Thanksgiving or how you’re allergic to mushrooms. There are some Facebookers that post things that are just so unreadable and uninspiring, I cringe the same way I did when I saw the movie Paul Blart: Mall Cop. As a veteran Facebook user (going on 5 years now) I have developed a trained eye for different Facebook behaviors and have grouped the Facebook abusers accordingly. First is Facebook bragger who has no idea how unimpressive his/her life is. For instance, they need to brag to me about their job promotion as assistant manager at Pinkberry, their amazing Weezer concert tickets, or about their new car, the Ford Taurs. What amazes me is how they had the time to do all of these things seeing how they just updated their status for the 15th time on a Wednesday afternoon. Then there is minute detail Facebook abuser. This one writes frequently about things I doubt their own mother would care about. What makes this person think I care about what type of bread was selected at Ralphs or what is in their refrigerator. How do I even respond to this? “Wow you went with the White Bread?!?” or “No Way! You have green olives in your fridge???” Finally, the crème de la crème of Facebookers and my personal favorite is the complainer. This kind has to talk about how hard their life is but doesn’t give specific details about what’s bothering them. For instance, “Bobby Sue is overwhelmed today …sigh” or “Elmo is tired…ahhh” or “Dave’s face is hurting because he just got punched for complaining too much” This kind of Facebook behavior is intolerable, unacceptable and must be stopped. To counteract these despicable people I too shall write an update one-upping all other annoying facebookers. My next status update will read, “Mark is just so excited because he starts being King of Ethiopia today. Furthermore, for lunch he will have an egg-salad sandwich on white bread with four BBQ chips and a pickle. What a busy day I’m so overwhelmed…uggggg.”

It's Vegas, Don't Tell Me To Calm Down!

I don’t know about you but I’m starting to get that Las Vegas fever. Just as timely as a menstrual cycle, my Vegasness comes exactly 3 months after my last visit. It’s a tough fever to break and the only prescription is two solid nights on the strip. It’s important to note that one night is not enough Vegas and three nights is just a bad idea. The extra night’s events will leave you wondering why you thought it was a good idea to go to a strip club because a midget dressed up as a leprechaun told you to do it. (Not like that happened to me or anything…) What I like most about the strip is there is so much to do; any one person can make it their own. I prefer the pool, drink, pass out, gamble, drink, pass out, club, drink, pass out approach. What I don’t get are the people who do the touristy Vegas. The one’s where they just kind of walk the strip aimlessly in their “whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” t-shirts. These folk are easy to spot; just look for the giant 10-foot drinks hanging from their necks. The sure fire way to NOT get any ass in the land of ass is to walk around with these drinks. Slurping on a straw is one of the least attractive things a person could do in public, and these drinks magnify this action by 100 percent when the drink is attached to your neck. I’ve never met a lady who can’t get enough of a drunken dude sucking down on some purple drink all day. All I’m saying is that we need to class up Vegas a bit. I’m pretty sure the party gods did not bestow Vegas onto us in hopes that we would walk the “holy land” with purple stained teeth and Elvis glasses on our way to Circus Circus. That’s why I stay at the Flamingo.

Church of The Holy Touchdown

I’ve never really been considered a religious man through my years. I felt that the customs, traditions, and beliefs in all religions were quite ridiculous. I never understood why people like Priests, Rabbis, Monks, or Indian Chiefs would devout their whole life to just their religion until I finally saw the light. Prior to becoming a born-again, I had been walking aimlessly with no real purpose. Now I see all that life has to offer with such clarity. Flowers smell better, music sounds better, and hot girls are even hotter. I attribute all these new positive changes to my new-found religion…College Football. I have found my religious enlightenment in the form of watching touchdowns and bone chilling tackles. I didn’t realize my religion’s full potential until I made my required pilgrimage to “Mecca” or otherwise known as Ohio Stadium in Columbus, Ohio. It was more than a game but rather a religious experience that I shared with my fellow College-Footballians watching USC play Ohio State. In case you weren’t familiar with our religion, here are just some of the basics in the holy “Play" Book. I specifically follow the teachings of Pete Carroll as he is my Rabbi. Furthermore, like the Jewish faith, our Sabbath is on Saturday but instead of wine as the preferred drink like in the Catholic or Jewish faith, our drink is beer and a lot of it. At “services” it is frowned upon to be quiet. Finally, my religion ends every year. There are never any qualms about not going to “services” past January 7 as the season ends. The other religions guilt you in being there every week. With that being said, I would appreciate it if people would respect my honoring of the Sabbath and not require me to be anywhere else other than the Los Angeles Coliseum, I’m praying at the top of my lungs!

Shortchanged

There was the Pet Rock in the 80’s, the Pogs of the 90’s and Beanie Babies in the early 2000’s. All were trends that came and went in our society. And just like the ones before it, the current trend that needs to vanish immediately is a women’s short haircut. I’m a pretty easygoing guy when it comes to the ladies. However, I will not tolerate when a beautiful woman butchers her hair. Just because Rihanna or Halle Berry has short hair does not give permission for every other girl to do the same. The hairstyles are so bad that even models loose their attractiveness. Viewing such a travesty only leaves me wondering what could’ve been. One of the defining physical characteristics that makes or breaks a woman is her hair. Now all hope is lost when I see a woman whose hair stops at her ears thus looking like a boy. No guy wants his girlfriend’s hair as short as his. The worst is when you see a girl on a regular basis who has that refreshing attractiveness in which you can’t wait to see again and again BUT the next day BOOM… boy cut! I demand to know all those behind such hanus acts. Was there a secret hairstyle tribunal that voted in the short haircut? Also, why weren’t heterosexual males allowed to have a say on this matter? These are all questions where I will work tirelessly to have answered. My guess is Oprah has something to do with this…

Nothing Wrong With Sky Mall Magazine

The best thing to happen in the world of aviation since the Wright Brothers is no doubt the Sky Mall Magazine. As a frequent traveler with Southwest Airlines such inventions as leg-room, and food are merely fantasies in the story of air travel. The only way to keep your sanity on that five-hour flight is the amazing Sky Mall Magazine. One flip of the page and you’re submersed in wonderful products such as the crossword wall paper, cat house that is disguised as a clay pot, and of course the water purifier for parrots. Although it provides hours of entertainment for me, my question is who is actually buying these products? If you ever wondered why so many Americans are in debt, The Sky Mall Magazine is your answer.

Yogurt is better than Yoga

There are many things I’m good at, such as writing new facebook status updates and watching Sportcenter. However, I’m a little less adept on things such as stretching. If there were anything I wasn’t put on this earth for, it would be bending. My lack of flexibility is an embarrassing reality that must be fixed. So I decided to take on Yoga at my gym. I came waltzing into the class unaware of the hellish experience I was about to endure. Yoga is like a perfect storm of things I suck at. You have to be flexible and you need normal looking feet (saying my feet are scary looking would be an understatement) Of course I must have showed up at the "experts-only" class because every student was putting their legs in places I’ve never dreamed possible. Then of course there is Yoga Guy who must’ve had some black belt in the stretching activity. Yoga guy always sits in the front of the class thinking he’s the instructor. He is decked out with intense yoga gear from the best mat to the nicest spandex. As much as I hate Yoga guy, I feel America should strive to be him. He is usually patient and balanced and equipped with a ponytail. Additionally, he always says the right things, and may even play some guitar. So with Yoga Guy and everyone else doing the salted pretzel, crouching monkey, licking lizard or whatever the poses are called, I was the asshole in the back that couldn’t touch his toes. With that said, I bet my form on the couch watching Sportcenter would blow any Yogaer out of the water!

Tales From A Cruise

I know what you’re thinking, and yes I did gain some weight in the past week. I recently went on a celebratory cruise in the Mediterranean looking Ethiopian skinny in the before picture. Sadly, 12 days later I got off the ship looking like the guy who thinks the double cheese taco salad at Taco Bell is a healthy diet option. As my mom so eloquently put,“ Mark ate like a maniac” However, I wasn’t the only one going “Tasmanian Devil” on the food as it became clear that this world isn’t getting fat off air. The average number of meals consumed a day on the ship was six! Let’s just say the pool scene was not exactly the Hard Rock Pool in Vegas. In fact it was quite a traumatic experience for me as I realized I’m very much in favor of one-piece bathing suits. (Is there a weight maximum for bikinis? Because there should be!) As much fun as I had on the cruise, there are some things about people that will forever baffle me. For instance, when a person makes the transformation into a tourist why do the Indiana Jones hats and Neon Fanny Packs automatically make an appearance? These tourists do the stupidest things too. I once witnessed an older lady wave at people on other boats for 2 hours. All she did was sit by the ship’s railing waiving away. What exactly does this lady expect to happen once you wave to other people? At the very best, the other party waves back to you and then what? I’ve never been much of a fan of parades for this very reason. Mass waves are so phony when it is directed towards thousands of other people. I like my waves personal, intended only for me. I don’t know this lady much, but I can bet she doesn’t sit at her window sill at home waving at anything that passes by her. Next time I catch someone using all five fingers to give me a phony wave I will reciprocate with just one finger of mine.

Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness

As my thousands of readers already know (by thousands, I mean all 5 of you) I tend to be a tad negative in my blogs. I think it’s time to switch it up and tell you about the one great thing in life. It’s something so extraordinary that it makes one think there really is a god. It has literally changed how I view the world. Ladies and Gentleman, I’m in love and it’s with foam soap. I challenge anyone to come up with something more amazing than a soap dispenser that extracts lathered soapy goodness. I know it’s hard to believe, but there was a time in my life where I would foolishly accept the notion that if I was to wash my hands it would be with liquid or even powdered soap. Well those days can be put to bed now because I will not accept anything short of a white foamy discharge. Just like always remembering that first kiss, I will never forget the first time I encountered foam soap. Once I pushed down on that dispenser and a cloud-like foam substance appeared, it was love at first sight. A very sad but true fact about me is my mood is directly affected by what type of soap is in the bathroom. The difference between liquid and foam soap is night and day. Liquid does not lather well and gets stuck in between my fingers making it difficult to wash off, thus pissing me off when I walk out of the bathroom with soap residue still intact. However on the other side of the equation, I could be having the worst day imaginable such as ordering a 10-piece chicken Mcnugget meal and only getting 9 Mcnuggets, but once I get my hands on that foamy goodness, my problems will wash away as fast as the soap. Foam soap is just so reasonable and efficient much like President Obama. In other words, we need change now and it starts with foam soap.

The Pope and Britney Spears

The biggest event to ever come to Los Angeles will be held on April 15, 2009. One may ask if it’s the Olympics? The World’s Fair? A visit from the Pope? Far from it. It’s Britney Spears and her much anticipated show “Circus” at the Staples Center. Now, why the crap as a 23-year-old straight male do I know about this? It’s because EVERY woman is going. Not only are they going, they are more stoked about it than when the “Sex and The City” movie came out. Being one month away, there are at least 5 daily status updates from Facebook saying just how excited they are for the night. As one writes, “Britney bitch!! Wooooooooo can’t wait” If this is one of 25,000 reactions, I’m quite concerned for the Staples Center. I’m pretty sure the excitement that has been storing up in these ladies for the past month will just bust out into a collective explosion. The once hot, then fat, then hot, wig wearing constantly pregnant, hillbilly performer should not attract more than 25 people at a senior’s center talent show. Why are people so keen on seeing this chick? Anyone can prance around with fireworks in the background and lip-sync the words to a song. In fact, I did that today in the shower, minus the fireworks because that would be just too dangerous. (For the sake of full disclosure: I pranced to Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean.”) As far as I’m concerned it would make no difference to me as if Britney Spears was actually there or just an I-pod in her place. (Especially if it’s one of those new grey ones… they are just as attractive!) I understand the excitement for an upcoming event especially for a sporting event because of the anticipation and uncertainty on whether your team will win or loose. In the case of a Britney Spears concert, the ending is a lot like a McDonalds…generic and predictable. In protest I too shall show my excitement for something mundane and uninteresting… the coin show on April 26! “Coin-O-Rama show bitch!! Wooooooo can’t wait”!!

Weirdoes

As my five readers already know, my only real purpose in life is to complain. Just as Kobe Bryant was born to play basketball or a Chico State student was born to smoke weed, I complain. Today my beef is with weirdoes. They come in all shapes and sizes and seam to always be conveniently placed around me. One might be in the form of a lady with a parrot on her shoulder while shopping at Ralphs, or a really fat guy sleeping on the abs machine at the local gym. In the end, they all have one thing in common in that they don’t leave me alone. I must give out some sort of nutty scent and just like catnip; I attract the weirdoes directly from their hidden layers (aka their parent’s basement). Speaking of cats: if you have more than three, you’re a weirdo. Additionally, why is it that hot girls are never the weird ones? One of my life’s real tragedies is that hot women never come up to me to talk about random crap. It’s always the fat, acne faced, kind of bald 23-year-old dude who wants to know where I got my jeans. Life would be so much more pleasant if people who came up to me were easy on the eyes. Furthermore, don’t let anyone tell you the place to meet women is at the gym because that is FALSE. Gyms for the most part are weirdo breeding grounds and as a result, scare all the attractive people away. On a daily basis you may see up to three nutsos pretending to work out but really just waiting to pounce on you to discuss the always riveting topics of medieval swords or cook books. If nut balls where half smart they would fix themselves up a little, that way they could disguise their weirdo tendency. I would definitely listen to an attractive women’s story about her homemade dress much longer than a dude’s story about his homemade beer that was brewed in the bath tub (which could explain for why he smells like he hasn’t showered in awhile). We as a nation of normal people must send the weirdoes back to where they came from...Florida.

The High-Heeled Problem

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are myriads of useless items in this world, and most of them are located in the “Sky Mall Magazine”. Such items include: a cat stroller, and a water purifier for parrots. However, nothing is more useless and detrimental to society than high heels. I’m not exactly sure what’s the appeal of the shoe. They are aimed to make women taller and therefore more attractive for men, yet most men would not date a woman who is taller anyway! But that’s only the tip of the iceberg…the comfort level of the shoe is where my beef lies. I have found myself in a weekly struggle with the high-heeled women. These declined contraptions drastically reduce my time to meet women and get to know them in bars/clubs. It’s only a matter of time before you hear the dark inevitable words, “my feet hurt.” Which for guys, is code for “you have no chance.” Often I feel like a bomb diffuser working under stressful conditions with a time constraint overhead. (FYI: usually the bomb goes off) I’m convinced I would get much more action (well…action) if women would just wear some Puma’s. Come to think of it, high heels aren’t all bad in that they act as great contraception. Who knew the world’s population problem could be solved with a couple million pairs of Leblanc’s? These days a man really has to be “heel worthy” to get some. A woman is not going to stand in those contortion devises listening to some dude's bullshit for very long. To combat this high-heeled problem I’m bringing some extra pairs of Uggs the next time I’m at a club. Some may call me a “weird dude” but I could care less, I’ll be the “weird dude” talking to ladies with comfy shoes on!

Love Just a Few Clicks Away?

I am a huge proponent of the Internet. It has made lives much easier (stalking used to be so much tougher before Facebook). In what was once a day’s work, people can now read the news, buy clothes, and watch their favorite porno all in a matter of minuets. However, there is one area the internet has no place for and that’s dating! This e-harmony /match.com business has got to stop. What ever happened to the old fashion route of being drunk off your ass at a bar and meeting the woman of your dreams during last call? (Hint: If the girl is still cute when the lights come up, she’s a keeper!) Now it’s all about finding the “compatible person” through 1,000 different variables. The problem is that just like a resume, people lie when describing themselves. No self-respecting man would ever tell the truth and say he is a bald 48 years old plumber that lives with his mom and has a third nipple. Internet daters are hiding behind a computer to find love, instead of putting themselves out there in the “real world.” Additionally, I’ve been told that sites like e-harmony rejects people if they can’t find anyone compatible. If that happened to me, I would call life quits right there. Game Over! Even the possibility of that being a reality is enough for me to never become an internet dater. I say get rid of internet dating sites and let the internet be used for more important things like viewing the “jizz in my pants” video on YouTube.