My Support System

To be successful in life one has to surround him/herself with great support. I cannot help but write about the support that has always been there for me and picked me up during the best and worst of times. There are the parents and the friends and all that as supporters but nothing more literal than my belt. I have had the same belt since 1998. Who knew as a little squirly 7th grader the Eddie Bauer belt I bought from the Cabazon Outlets would be supporting my ass twelve years later! Friends, professors, and pants have come and gone but one belt has remained. My belt is a true unsung hero as it hidden from plain sight and asks nothing in return but to do the honors of holding my pants up. Just think of all the exotic places my belt has been, Hawaii, Israel, Ireland, Barstow…and in each place my belt has worked just as hard. The country should look at my Eddie Bauer belt as an example of the perfect American. Selfless, strong, confident, and bends but never breaks. In fact, my belt should run for Governor of California. It would run on a platform consisting of adding more loops to plumber’s pants and limiting the number of elastic clothing. True, California may still be trillions in debt and jobless but we would have the sturdiest pants in America…at least that's more than you can say about Kentucky.

Left In The Dust

My worst fears have finally been realized. I often wake up with a petrified look on my face sweating from the hellish nightmare I just experienced. In my mind it is always lurking like a stalker in the night. Everywhere I turn my nightmare follows. The worst thing is even when I wake up my nightmare still exists. One might think I’m afraid of terrorist attacks, sharks, or earthquakes but none of these even holds a candle to my deepest fear…dust! It’s been 4 months since I’ve moved in to my own place and the epic battle between myself and dust has never gotten more heated. Living on your own is tough, it’s the first time I’ve been introduced to dust, and let me tell you I can see some serious problems formulating between those particles and myself. It’s EVERYWHERE. It’s on my TV, my desk, my table and it never stops! Up until now, I’ve lived a glorious dust-free life with OCD parents and a lady who cleaned once-a-week, so I thought about dust as much as I thought about Ancient Greek farming techniques. Now, it’s all I can think about. During my pre-dust life, I used to have so much more free time to think about really philosophical things like, “how do they pack all that cheese in a tiny CHEESE-IT?” Now all of my intelligence is being consumed due to dust! One might say the easy solution is to get some sort of device and clean it. That’s a great idea and all except for the fact that I don’t have a clue how to keep up a household. I just learned how to work my oven. It turns out the bottom part of the oven is NOT a storage space like originally thought but the burner. If dust cleaning were considered to be at the pinnacle of advanced cleaning techniques, I have a long way to go. I’m merely on the step of how to operate the dishwasher. However, dust doesn’t wait for me to catch up and just keeps pilling on. It’s just so time consuming. Do you have any idea how much Sportcenter I would miss if I actually cleaned my dust properly? It’s just too bad that dust is considered socially unacceptable because then we could coexist. However, someone has to win in this epic battle and so far I’ve been left in the dust.

Send it in an E-mail

I’m revolting against the non-stop talkers. It’s all day with these people telling their long boring stories and I’ve had enough. America doesn’t just have an over-eating problem, it has an over-talking problem and the verbally obese are chewing the rest of the nation’s ear off. It’s often hard to spot an over-talker at first, but as soon as his/her lips move an escape plan must immediately ensue. Their stories just go in aimless circles with no end in sight. Don’t the verbally obese realize there is another person at the end of the conversation? Heaven forbid they even ask one question so the other person can feel part of the conversation. I’ve always been curious on how these talkers experienced so many stories when all their doing is yapping. I feel I’ve been gyped for I make it a point to keep my stories short and to the point. Just like recycling cans, I’ve done my part in keeping good conversation. In contrast, these talkers are verbally polluting this world leaving everyone else to suffer. As part of my New Year’s resolution to contribute more to society, I feel compelled to share the intricacies of how to spot an over-talker. Although subtle, try to avoid any of the following scenarios at all costs or else you’ll be just another victim. First, if you see a person in a crowd and their lips never stop moving, you’ve found the target, get out of there! Second, you see a flock of people flee shortly after meeting the target. Finally, if it’s any person over the age of 80. I realize if it’s a grandparent you have no choice but to listen, however if it’s not a relative, walk away or else you’ll be hearing yet another story about World War II or how much an apple cost during the Depression. To combat this epidemic effective January 2010, I will be implementing a new policy in that any story going over 4 minutes must be sent to me in an email. So, next time someone wants to tell me a long boring story about how they thought they saw David Spade one time but wasn’t sure, kindly type it to me in an email. This way I can read over the crap and get to the point in the comfort of my own home listening to good tunes instead of yapper’s.