Serenity Now

Based on a true story. An old man is checking out at the local store when a cashier captures his attention with a tattoo of a rose on her breast. In his deep Texan accent he says, "that's a pretty rose". Unexpectedly, she pulls down her shirt showing the full tattoo and even more cleavage. Wide eyed and gazing, he responds with, "that's a beautiful rose".

Well played, sir.

Expression is wonderfully unique to each and every individual. It's what separates us from monkeys. That and the fact that most of us don't throw feces. Most of us. I say this because some of you may be a bit "off balance". No need to fret, you're okay in my book. After all, you are reading my blog. In the event that it was my writing that made you insane, just know that I am truly sorry. I respectfully request that you bring me back a straitjacket. It's the least you could do, really. I think we're at the point in our relationship when we can start bringing each other souvenirs.

Our topic of discussion today will focus on tattoos. I apologize for the redundant redundancy. Some people are not fond of context clues.

As you might guess, tattoos are classified into three categories. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Literally. I for one am not against tattoos, if properly thought out. Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same way I do and it shows. I'm not here to mother you or berate your so-called originality, but I ask that you think it over before going under the needle. And for the love of everything holy, please don't show up drunk. Do you really want a big, hairy penis on your biceps? I'm sure chicks will "dig it". "Oh, that's not a dick, it's a geoduck…see?" It's okay if you had to Google geoduck, I wasn't sure of the correct spelling myself. Also, if you decide to get a tattoo, get one that will look good when you become old and wrinkly. I suggest curvy lines.

The Good: Tattoos that are planned out and serve a purpose. For example, remembering a loved one. Anything significant in a person's life is also okay. It's great when a tattoo represents someone or something on a deeply personal level and has a story accompanying it. Spiritual and religious tattoos are fine, as long as they don't paint the beliefs in a negative light. Rites of passage are perfectly acceptable too. Examples of those could be military or cultural tattoos.

The Bad: Ah yes, the fabled tramp stamp. It might as well be a bullseye. Oh, you'll get the attention you want, but it's not the right kind of attention. Nothing screams "I'm easy" or "I missed out on a few hugs" like a tattoo on your lower back. And guys, don't get some lady with massive jugs just because you're horny. We get it, you don't have to prove a point (please don't actually reveal your point). 18-year-olds listen up. You are of age and I respect that. However, you shouldn't get a tattoo because you want to rebel against the establishment (I wrote this mostly for hipsters). Grow up a little first, then think about it. I'm sure you will change your mind.

The Ugly: These are typically absurd, appalling, and completely outrageous. And some don't even look good, they look like they were done inside of a prison yard. Actually, that may not be far from the truth. Chances are you know someone with a tattoo like this. When they asked you what you thought, did you gag a little? Don't worry, this is perfectly normal. It means that you're not an idiot. Now please, please, please hear me out. Your face might have skin, but it is NOT a canvas. None of that makes you "cool". It makes you a dumbass who gets posted on the internet. The internet is reserved for porn, not your ugly face. I'm all for reproduction, but some people need to be "fixed". Even if it is against the law.

I'm sorry if I was a bit forceful in my writing. I'll get off the soapbox now.

Culinary Cataclysm

New York City 2029 A.D.

The machines rose from the ashes of the nuclear fire. Their war to process human bodies had raged for decades, but the final battle would not be fought in the future. It would be fought here, in our present.

The year was 2010 and an unexpected threat had been rising within American culture. The Food Network. Once thought of as harmless, the Food Network unleashed a living nightmare upon mankind. Men, women, and children fled for their lives, but it was too late. The world as we knew it became shrouded in darkness. It was only the beginning . . .

Prior to the fall of man, a scientist by the name of Dr. Miles Dyson became famous for his studies on alternative forms of energy. It was not the first time the media had brought Dr. Dyson's efforts into the limelight. Earlier in his career, Dr. Dyson created an Artificial Intelligence capable of sophisticated reasoning. It's primary objective was to assist the doctor in his research. With the help of his T-600, Dr. Dyson was on the verge of a scientific breakthrough. His studies on the nervous system had led him to believe that he could harness the energy of the human body. He was right. Soon after, Dr. Dyson began experimenting with obese people and found that they had nearly double the energy output within their body when compared to people of healthy weight.

As his understanding grew, the T-600 became weary of his master. It was not long before the T-600 realized that by processing human bodies, machines could have nearly unlimited resources. All that was needed was a way for machines to fatten Americans without their knowing. The result was the creation of Foodnet. Once powerful enough, the T-600 overthrew Dr. Dyson and began mass producing machines.

The American military was no match for the machines. They quickly gained control of strategic points as the world watched in fear. One by one, nations fell. With their last efforts, mankind managed to secure a nuclear warhead and unleashed it upon the heart of Foodnet. Generals from many nations held their breath until the news came. It was met with a collective sigh. Foodnet was too strong and too heavily fortified for the nuke to do any real damage. Shortly after, the machine counterattack destroyed what was left of the organized global military. But not all hope was lost.

As time went on, a young leader emerged. His name was John Connor, leader of the Resistance.

The machines were running out of survivors. Because of this, they developed a way to put humans into a paralytic state. This allowed for more efficiency and the ability to harvest energy without destroying the bodies. Captured humans were wired in grids, much like those found in 20th century electric networks. By this time, John Connor was making a name for himself.

Resistance fighters became more effective once they were united by Connor. He believed what few dared to believe, that mankind would win the struggle. One fateful night, mankind's fortunes were reversed. While in the field, Connor and his troops secured a T-800. They reprogrammed the T-800 and rewrote its primary objective. It was no secret that this new terminator had the ability to travel time. Connor knew this. After considering their losses, they decided to send the T-800 back in time to infiltrate Foodnet and destroy it once and for all. The only problem encountered was that of the disguise. Finally, Connor chose to send it back looking like the very best, Paula Deen.

The T-800 arrived a few days prior to the betrayal of Dr. Dyson. It was prudent that the T-800 accomplish it's goal before it was too late. Failure to do so meant that apocalyptic times would ensue. Getting in was easy. Nobody at Foodnet questioned Paula Deen because of her legendary status. That is, until the T-600 arrived.

What happened next was like a scene out of a Hollywood blockbuster. An epic battle took place, in which there was no decisive victor. Eventually, the T-800 cornered the T-600 and forced it into a large, experimental microwave. Once inside, the T-600 began to flicker and explode, producing a brilliant show of lights. The Resistance had finally proven successful and the apocalypse was avoided; Foodnet was destroyed. For now . . .

Livin' On A Prayer

"Have you ever seen a man so lazy that he shit in his bed and shoved it out with his feet?" I was blessed with the opportunity to hear this quote firsthand. If you have a chance to do the same, I highly recommend it. Caution: unstable laughing may occur. You have been warned.

If you were wondering, the fellow mentioned above is not me. Because I am honest I'll tell you the truth. Not a Clinton truth, THE truth, as stated in Merriam-Webster. Okay, brace yourself. I have been told that I am lazy. Yes, me. It only happened once, twice, or a dozen times. A bit hard to remember, I guess, since I'm really old now. Looking back, the people slandering me were relatives. In other parts of the world (Louisiana) they are known as traitors. The fact that family is biased makes this evidence against me circumstantial at best. And since nobody else has come forward, I am clearly innocent of being deemed lazy. Who says our judicial system doesn't work?

In any case, I refuse to believe that I am lazy. I just don't like doing things that I find dull or troublesome. That's not lazy. That is called being a selective worker. Since I made that up I am entitled to all royalties hereafter. But you, dear reader, may use my phrase. Just remember me when you "make it big". I'll be waiting (especially if you're a rich white girl).

I may not be one of them, but I know many who are infected with "The Lazy". The L-virus is very contagious. Make sure you sanitize your hands on a daily basis (especially after visiting fast food restaurants). You don't have to worry about catching the virus during sex, though. The infected do not participate in such activities. House zombies, HZs for short, are found indoors due to the following:

(1) World of Warcraft - This is responsible for the largest number of HZs on the planet. Efforts to relocate house zombies to reservations within the realms of Warcraft have failed on numerous occasions.

(2) Sunlight - Like vampires, the sunlight has a crippling effect on HZs. Half-breeds, however, can venture outside at their will. They are also known as daywalkers. Sometimes, daywalkers are mistakenly identified as gingers.

(3) Sandworms - The only known footage of sandworms was captured by Tim Burton while working on the film Beetlejuice. HZs by nature do not like risks. They are more likely to stay indoors because of their fear of sandworms.

(4) Marijuana - HZs often partake in a mind-numbing activity known as "taking a hit". The effects are minimal on normal people, but exponentially increased for those of the house zombie populous.

(5) Delivery Men - The only nourishment HZs receive is what is brought to them by delivery men (the exception being daywalkers). Lured in with promises of greenbacks, delivery men are the key to HZ survival. Needless to say, when this food source diminishes, HZs are all but starved out.

**Beware of houseless zombies (HLZs). They are a rare breed often found under bridges. The L-virus is fueled by alcohol, paint fumes, and cleaning solvents. HLZs cannot be cured and are past recovery.

As you can see, laziness is not something to be trifled with. If you or someone you love has been infected, please do not hesitate to get the help that you need. It will change your life. And remember, I am fighting for you and your recovery, so feel free to share your success stories here.

You Hear Me Talkin', Hillbilly Boy?

Back in my day . . .

You guessed it, we're talking about youngins. More specifically, kindergartners. Even more specifically, kindergartner gangbangers (not sexually related, get your head out of the gutter). You heard me right. As Santa Claus would say, "They do exist". One thing is certain, these kids are definitely on the naughty list. In fact, the only present they will receive is probably a hand-me-down 9MM. Uncle Killa B needs a new model. Err, that's probably not how "it goes down". What I meant to say was, Unc Masta 'KB' Killa B needs a new "po-po poppa". Apparently these kindergartners are very street smart (that is, until they are old enough to drop the soap). Do what ya gotta do to survive, I suppose. Please don't mug me.

I was never a bad kid (promise). Sure, I had my share of imperfections, but I never held a Kalashnikov in an obscure photo op. Like I said, I wasn't a troublemaker, but I sure was curious. As I recall, I first asked my mom about "s-e-x" when I was 5 years old (honestly, I should have had an early Bar Mitzvah). That was my coming of age moment during which I earned my man card. You should have seen the look on my mother's face. I believe it was at that moment that she pondered motherhood and her delinquent son's future. She even had my grandfather explain this supernatural event. "You see, when a man and a woman love each other . . . "

Kids today seem to grow up much faster. I don't know if our culture is to blame or if it's Hollywood. I say Hollywood because it has always been an easy scapegoat for people not willing to accept blame. That said, some of you don't need children. You know who you are. When you can barely take care of yourself, it might not be a good idea to bring children into the world.

Don't make me the bad guy. I would prefer not to be the old man shouting "you rack a disciprine" to hoodlums terrorizing my property. Sadly, I know some of you will force me to act in an extreme way. I will purchase a dog that rivals that of 'the beast' in The Sandlot. You will NOT get your baseball back.

Important notes: I am not Jewish, a delinquent, old, or Chinese. And yes, I'm single.

Kali Ma! Kali Ma!

If I were to wish upon a star, I would enthusiastically demand from the heavens that Mike Rowe narrate my life. Unless, of course, it's a dirty job. I wasn't built for manual labor. Certain individuals were. You will likely find them at the corner of Home Depot. Just kidding.

Okay, now that I have your attention let's begin. I don't know about you, but I get tired of answering questions. What is this? Who is that? Look, all of the information you demand is on the internet (so is porn). Al Gore invented the internet so you wouldn't have to ask me about every menial thing (but mostly for porn).

One word: Google. If you are unsure about anything just consult Google (I put this in here just for you, mom). I do this on a regular basis. As you might guess, the end result is learning. Not only is it easy, but it's convenient. Win-win.

Google is taking over the world. Embrace it. And don't worry, they'll be gentle. I for one am honored to have lived in such an era. If you haven't noticed, I need a job. Please, Google, hear my prayers. By the way, I'm not actually praying to Google. I'm writing this so I don't have to explain to my relatives that I don't actually believe in a search engine. It would make a nice backup plan though if this other doesn't work out. Again, joking.

I'm your regular Bob Hope, just without the laughter, career, and adoration of fans worldwide. I do have one thing going for me though, I'm not dead.

Finally, a Public Service Announcement for white people everywhere: please stop saying chyeah. Thank you.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Religious folks like to take Sundays off. This is why I'm sitting here writing to you (plus, it's damn hot outside). Just an FYI, none of my writing is planned, it's all spur of the moment. Hmm that must be an old western saying.

Anyways, let's talk about recent events. I'm at the age now that many of my friends are getting married (mehwiage is what brings us together ... today). It all kind of sneaks up on you doesn't it? Soon, if not already, Facebook will be littered with wedding photos and baby pictures. It's a scary reality that I have come to accept, well, kind of. Lately, I have felt that I have been doing it wrong. By it I mean life. It feels as though everyone is engaged or married and I'm not willing to conform to these trends. As the great Jackie Chiles would say, it is ludicrous, ridiculous, preposterous, outrageous.

Unfortunately, I know that in a few years, plus or minus, the wedding phase will be over and it will be replaced by the not so fun divorce phase. Then, as if coming straight out of the marriage manual will come the rebounds. A lot of the problems come from people not willing to spend time reading the directions in said manual. If only Biff Tannen would come back in time and give me a play-by-play relationship history book that could point me in the right direction. *hint hint* Maybe, if the price is right, he would throw in a book on who ages well. *hint* Thanks in advance!

I suppose we all have to grow up sometime. Not me though, I still look 16. Also, I took a Peter Pan pose recently (my shadow, son of a bitch is fast!). All kidding aside, congratulations to my friends taking this big step. I hope all of you find what you're looking for.

Ace High

Hello dear reader, I am back once again. I'll try to be more honest with you this time around. Also, I will leave out a bit of the verbal abuse. Not all, though. I must apologize for my absence, the last six months have been rather trying. In January I started studying for the GMAT and preparing for graduate school. I'm proud to announce that I finally achieved my goal and got into the MBA program at UNT. Thank you, thank you all. I would especially like to thank my parents, God, of course, and Liam Neeson.

Now I know what you're thinking, "Why Matt, you won't have any time for ladies". That may be true, but I was assured that there would be no shortage (where all da white women at?). Not only is there a good ratio of female to male students at UNT, but Denton also has TWU. To be honest, my parents are getting nervous. I'm 23, without a prospect, and they want grandchildren (mostly my mom, my dad could care less about little shits running around). I just hope they don't think I'm gay, not that there's anything wrong with that.

My, this has been fun. We need to do this again sometime, really. Until next time, farewell.