The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Archive for the ‘Du Jour of the Week’ Category

Young Single Guy with a Cat

Recently I had my birthday (my year in review video). I am now a 27 year old single, straight guy.

And for about 2.4 seconds I considered getting a cat.

Here’s what happened in those 2.4 seconds:

How others would see me:

  • Oh, I guess he’s stopped trying to date?
  • “Your roommate? … Oh you were kidding. Your ‘roommate’ is a cat … Sure, that’s a good joke. I’ve gotta go now. Forever.”
  • Somebody needs a hug.

Possible Cat Names:

  • Shiny von Stinkface
  • Meowser
  • Gisele Jolie Bieber (I would tell countless cat stories, and those names along with the word ‘cat’ would lead to waaay more hits for my blog)

Weird Frame-Worthy Pictures of My Cat and Me:

  • The cat with a New York Times propped against her, and me playing with a ball of yarn.
  • Have a friend throw the cat at my face – with the picture taken just before my face is scratched off.
  • The cat on a chair, me behind it (like your classic boring couple photo). Talk about fantastically creepy.

Also while looking for weird links for this check THIS OUT. Who knew plenty of fish had a message board, but what a brilliant post! “Do guys with cats stay single forever?” How lovely.

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An Egregious Error

This is the name of my imaginary band.

Below are the members of the band.

Jimmy “the onesy” Franklin – Jimmy’s almost as neurotic as he is short. He’s average height. He plays the lead guitar and can’t sing for anything but we love him anyway. He got drunk and tried to paint flames on the side of his 2004 Toyota Corolla, and he ended up with a dragon painted on the side of his car. You can’t get much cooler than that.

Lisa “don’t call me” Johhannssenn – She plays the tambourine. She’s got a nice smile … She’s … everyone hates her, but she makes the best snacks.

Me – Lead vocals on a good day, unknowingly singing into a muted mic on most days. I am to style what cat ladies are to good-smelling. I love a good sandwich, but I hate your face.

Squatty (last name unknown) – The only good member of the band. He’s in shackles in the corner. We keep telling him we’ll let him go, but … he’s the only reason we got our first record into some stores. Concerts are a problem though. Stockholm Syndrome, kick in!

Our first CD was called, “Wake Up and Smell the – Dang, I Peed the Bed.”

Track 1 – “Shut Up Your Face”
Track 2 – “I’m Sorry Darling, I Shouldn’t Have Told You to Shut Up Your Face”
Track 3 – “Houston, We Have a Problem … And I Blame Society”
Track 4 – “OMFG ROFL I’m So Lonely”
Track 5 – “You Look Charming in That Thong”
Track 6 – “Knock-Knock. Who’s There? Nobody. … Oh, Wait, It’s the Pizza Guy! Who’s Got Cash??”
Track 7 – “Eat Your Heart Out, Al Roker”
Track 8 – “Cannabilism – Hot Or Not?”
Track 9 – “If I Was Anymore Inept I’d Be … Um … I Forgot”
Track 10 – “THAT’S What a Suppository Is??”
Track 11 – “What Does the Word ‘Outro’ Mean?”
Track 12 – “Ladies and Gentlemen For the First Time We Introduce Mr. and Mrs. Who Gives a Ship”

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You Can’t Buy Happiness

I’m sitting in my room alone
So alone,
With my as-yet unreleased to the public smart phone.

I’m sitting on my couch alone
So alone,
Deciding which game to play of the many video games that I own.

I’m sitting in my bed so-so alone
So alone,
In my king-size bed with bazillion count sheets that were hand-sewn.

I’m sitting in my kitchen, you guessed it, alone
So alone,
I’m full of lobster and that cake is tempting me but first I’ll eat that scone.

I’m sitting in my luxury car so very alone
So alone,
With my foot on the pedal (tickets are chump change) I’m speeding through this low-speed-limit zone.

I’m sitting in, what room is this, have I been in here before?, alone
So alone,
This mansion was maybe too big for me – the fourteen bedroom villa I should’ve been shown.

I’m sitting in my yacht theoretically alone
So alone,
Minus the crew, and the chef, and the masseuses, my loneliness makes me groan.

Well I’m listening to someone with way more money than me say ‘you can’t buy happiness,’ and I feel alone
So alone,
Because yes, I can’t buy happiness, but at least you can try you marone.

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