Two great quotes...In my opinion...

"Making love is pulling out and shooting on her back instead of her face."

"No balls? You crack open my chest and look where the heart should be, all you will find is another pair of balls."

Work...

Today at work I had two of my supervisors come up and tell me the exact same thing within a two minute span...now does that show efficiency and thoroughness, or redundancy and uselessness?

Day 2

Today we found out that plyometrics is actually the P90X way of saying cardio. I strayed horribly from my diet today, the chinese for dinner was accompanied by an attractive companion so how could I say no?
So yeah, for anyone not in Jersey, it snowed in NJ today. Where the shit did that come from? The weather guy this morning said scattered showers and a possibility of snow west and north of the city...I live neither of those two and it snowed for hours. You know when the flakes get really big that usually means the snow is almost over? Not today, it was big old chunks the whole time. There was an actual "diff" sound effect as each one of them hit my hood. So my point is work was a little harder today than I thought it would be, or on an average day so an hour of cardio was a little more challenging than I would prefer.
The high knees and jumping stuff really sucked...especially for my downstairs neighbor. I would feel bad about it but she and her boyfriend/cuckold fight all the time and I have to hear it so fair is fair. Again I couldn't really keep up with the guys on the DVD but it's only day two, I don't think I'm supposed to be keeping up.
So I'm 99% sure Erik Stolhanske of Supertroopers fame is one of the people working out on the DVD. I'm going to have to confer with my team of experts/friends to confirm this fact for you but that was pretty cool. Tomorrow is Shoulders&Arm plus abs agin...woo...I can't wait.




You ever think about loosing a few pounds there Rammy?

P90X

So I started this blog as a hope to be an outlet for my comedic outbursts and I'll admit, I've been lazy and sucked at it. So now, I'm going to try and use it for another purpose too. I recently ordered P90X, a DVD workout plan sold on the internet and over those TV infomercials. Long and short, it's a workout plan that gives you different workouts to do over 90 days and through "muscle confusion" your body never plateaus or gets used to the work out and the results are incredible.

I've been going to the gym pretty regularly over the last year plus and while I like what I see so far, I'm definitly looking for some visable results faster. I've been jogging and lifting, ran my first 5K earlier this month, but I still feel like I'm seen as a skinny guy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking to get absolutely huge, but I want to get myself in really good shape and have people be able to tell.
So I started P90X this evening. I worked today, not a very hard day at work but not a lazy one, came home, ate a lean quisine dinner, and put the day one DVD in. I can tell you right now it's the toughest workout I've done in a very long time. I'm a little disapointed tat I couldn't keep up with the people on the DVD at all but, it's my day one and they're trained professionals.

I'm going to try and keep my progress posted here and all that, right now I'm going to try and figure out how to put some day one pics up for you. By the way, my starting weight is 162lbs.

Career advice for y'all...

I was raised to believe that if you worked hard, whoever was in charge would notice, and it would pay off. It could be a promotion, a bonus, maybe a workload that you preferred, some how all the hard work would pay off for you in the end. My present employment predicament is a unionized situation, all of my raises, bonuses, and promotions are on a strict timeline that there's no way of getting around. Basically, you just have to show up everyday, keep your head above water, and your existence and attendance will lead to the spoils that I was taught hard work would bring.
I've been at this job for a little over a year now, I'm in the lowest position available. It sucks because I basically get shit on everyday but at the same time I have the lowest level of responsibility and the only way I can really get in trouble is if I try to. I still, since day one have busted my ass everyday at this job. My coworkers, who are at the same level as me, kind of just coast by and look at me as weird for being like this. I'm fine with that, I have gained the respect of my peers and coworkers a lot faster that they have.
Through all of my work I've become the "go-to guy" for my bosses, if there's a hard route that needs to be covered, I'm the guy, if there's overtime that needs to be taken care of, I'm the guy, if they need help with their computers, I'm the guy...I'm the guy. Which feels nice but as I've already explained, there's no financial or promotional value to any of this. And while I'm accumulating overtime and working my ass off, the slackers go home earlier, don't work as hard, get easier routes, and here's the killer, get paid the exact same amount as me.
Through all of this, I've come to a realization....on the first day of work....shit your pants. Excuse yourself, it was a freak accident. Clean yourself up, go home if you have to, but from that point on, every day that you don't shit your pants, will impress the crap out of your bosses. Even if you fuck up royally somewhere down the road, it will never be as bad as that day you shit your pants. Set that bar as low as you can get it. The less they ever expect out of you, the less you'll ever have to deal with. Now granted, you'll most likely never live it down, somewhere down the line someone will always bring that up but as you're coasting by getting paid just as much and never once being tested or strained...isn't it worth it?

I got strung by a bee...

So yeah, Mondays suck...I think we all can agree on that. Not only is it back to work for most of us but if your job is at all like mine, two days worth of work have piled up on you and it has to be taken care of in one. Today was a little worse than usual, probably precipitated by me coming back off a four day weekend. It had it's ups and downs but the insult added to my injury was when I got stung by a bee. Yes, I got strung by a bee, the last time i got stung by a bee I think I was 10...maybe 11. Who the hell gets stung by bees? It's believed that cell towers that provide the signals for our phones are scaring away most of the honey bees from north America. I'm not making that up, in the last couple years a large percentage, I'll go with majority, because I'm confident, of our continent's honey bees are migrating elsewhere. This is a bad thing...I guess...supposedly this means our plants and flowers are having a hard time being germinated, yadda yadda yadda, less plants...bad. The way I see it, I'm not a huge vegetable fan, flowers are pretty gay, I don't like bees, and I like my phone. Win, win, win, win. But wait! They're not all gone, yet. And one of the lone hold outs stung me. At first I thought it was a mosquito or something small that bit me but when I looked down, there he was, that little stripped fucker not only stinging me, but he was biting me too. Alright, I get it! Apparently my leg was posing a threat to the queen, kill it! I knocked the little shit off and there it was, his ass muscles still attached to the stinger still pumping his bee badness into my leg. My first thought was "ouch, that hurts" then it dawn on me that people have allergic reactions to bee stings and die from this shit. I paused, was I allergic? The last time, when I was 10, I did go to the hospital and get a shot, but I think that was mainly a precaution. I swallowed, took a few deep breaths, I thought about calling my boss and telling him I was going to the hospital and someone else was going to have to finish up for me, but I didn't notice my throat closing up or any problems breathing. It still hurt though, I took a little solace in knowing the bee was somewhere bleeding to death from the gaping ass wound it had just inflicted upon itself while protecting the hive. I went about my work but then I started thinking, maybe you don't die right away. Were these the last moments of my life? I looked up, there were some trees, a bird flew by. I felt like I should try to appreciate it more but I just wanted to finish my work and go home. Then I wondered if my bosses would appreciate my dedication, while poison was racing through my veins on it's way to killing me, I trudged on. I saw myself dead, laying in the walkway of this ridiculous apartment complex, my bosses coming out to find me and yell at me but finding only my cold lifeless body. Or maybe someone who lived there would call and tell them that I was taking a nap on the sidewalk, they should come fire me. Alas, as romantic and ironic as I had envisioned my death, I was breathing fine, no swelling, just a pain in my calf. Not to steal from Dane Cook, but man, getting killed by a bee is a shit way to die. If I ever get killed by a bee sting, still breathing, I hope I'm run over by a bus immediately afterwords. "How did Paul die?" "Well he was killed by a bee...I mean hit by a bus." See what I mean? If someone told you I was killed by a singular bee sting, I would hope you would laugh. If I heard you were killed by one, I would. I don't think it would stop me even if I was told by one of your loved ones. You were killed by a bee, they make honey. A black widow spider is pretty badass, a scorpion? Shitty powers ballads aside, they're pretty gnarly too. I'm a bee, I hang out in flowers, I will die a virgin, I killed you. I'll take the bus anyday. So yeah, I got stung by a bee today, Mondays suck.

Never party with the Straight Edge...

If playing a sporting event and ending in a tie is like "kissing your sister", then partying with a straight edge person is like "jerking off with your dad". Don't get me wrong, I really have no problem with people who are straight edge, hell, I even used to be straight edge myself. But then I decided I wanted to have fun, and enjoy life...plus that whole virginity thing was getting annoying. I joke, I kid, I have friends who are straight edge, they go to parties, have a good time, and feel no need to preach about how important being straight edge is. Underneath, they may be thinking about what a bunch of assholes we are and whatnot, but as long as I don't hear about it, good.
I may be horribly off base and may not have met the right straight edge people but my unfortunate diagnosis it that people are straight edge because of anger. They're pissed off, they hate everyone, and the best way that they can make themselves feel superior and better than all of the people they're mad at, is to be devoid of any of the horrible vices that everyone else has. I'll be honest. It's one of the driving forces which made it seem, at the time, like a good decision for me. The group of guys in my high school who were first "pot heads" and early drinkers were assholes. They acted like everyone who didn't do it was just a momma's boy who was too scared to think outside the protective box their parents had put them in. We were missing out, they were really experiencing life, their minds were open. Bullshit, the first time I thought of anal sex, I thought I had invented it. Stupid teenage me thought that I had figured out an entirely new dimension of sex. Guess what retard, I think they might have been doing that shit in the 60's, I imagine slave masters really "had their way" with their slaves, those British romantic fags were doing it with powdered wigs on (something I didn't think of), roman emperors loved it, and lets face it, the cavemen probably got bored of the vag sometimes too. Those open minded druggies in high school weren't better than anyone, they were just a lot more bored than I was. And guess what, they're all fat bald losers now. So yeah, I hated them, why would I want to be like them? To this day I still refuse to listen to some of the bands they listened to because they thought of liking anything they liked was so offensive to me. So I get it, they're losers and you don't want to be a loser so you don't do drugs. Grrr, you're angry, here's a tissue.
Then there's the whole, "I see people when they're drunk/on drugs, and I don't like they way they are, so why would I want to be like that?" Chances are these drunk/high people are getting the girl you want/put up on a pedestal. Or this same girl who you've put up for sainthood in your own mind becomes a slut when she drinks. So this makes you angry and straight edge...ness? makes you better than them, and that makes you feel good. Maybe you should build a club house too!
Don't get me wrong, I've seen people just ruin a party by getting too drunk. I hate it when people tell me the virtues of smoking weed. Oh really? The album sounds completely different when you're high? I hate cleaning up after these people, I hate hearing them list how much they drank and smoke because I'm supposed to be impressed by how fucked up they got, and I hate hearing about how hung over they are/were. Shut up, no one out of high school should be impressed by any of that.
Back to my point. Even the best, least preachy straight edge...ers? can ruin the feng shui of a party. At or during a good party, everyone tends to get drunk at or about the same pace. We all know how shitty it feels to show up late and sober to a party where everyone else is properly toasted. It tends to be a little awkward at first, introductions are made, one, two cocktails are had and before you know it, your best friend and your boss are hooting it up, and low and behold! Your girlfriend and your ex are chatting! Lets hope they're only saying good things, wink wink nudge nudge. Towards the end the line gets blurry, you have your people who know they have to drive home eventually, and then the people who got plastered and are sleeping over, surprise! The straight edge guy is like the speed bump to your flow, the iceberg to your titanic. You're feeling good, buzzed, you're got a bra on your head as a hat, a thong over your jeans, and as you're chasing that 20 something girl through the party with the novelty sex toy someone brought proclaiming that you're "king of the penis", bam. You run into the straight edge guy/girl (this is where you start jerking off with your dad). You stop dead in your tracks, for a moment maybe you feel like you should explain yourself to your straight edge friend, goddamn there's part of you that wishes you were still chasing that girl, but your buddy doesn't seem to be having as much fun as everyone else and part of you feels like you want him to be having as much fun of you. There's an awkward silence, maybe you should explain the bra, thong, and big black dildo...no. Ask if he's having fun? No. At this point the straight edge, while trying to be a good friend and protect you from yourself, will offer some sort of advice, or maybe tell you you should "calm down" or "take it down a notch" thus providing you with a brickwall like buzzkill. The girl is long gone, your bra hat is no longer zany or fun, and the dildo in your hand just got really really gay. Your dad might as well have just told you he's "getting close".
Is there any solution? You know what? I have no idea, I haven't thought of one...actually, I have. If you're straight edge, just have a damn beer and relax already.

p.s. If you're family has a history of addiction to drugs and alcohol an you have to be straight edge, that sucks. If you're offended or upset by this, I hope you get cancer or AIDS. If you have cancer or AIDS and are offended by what I just wrote, seriously? You want to spend what little slice of life you have left mad at me? C'mon, go smell some flowers baldy.

Do as I say, not as I say...

Last Saturday night I went out for drinks with my friend Dave. In one of the bars we went to we ended up running into some friends of Dave from his grade school days. It was a girl he went to school with, her friend, and her friend's boyfriend, Ceasar. As I was introduced to them I shook their hands, enter their names here, and said it's nice to meet you, I'm Paul. When it got to Caesar...I said, "Caesar, it's nice to meet you, I love your salad." The second these words left my mouth I hated myself. Jesus, I mean really? Who the hell says that shit? Me, that's who, Captain Asshole, at your fucking service. Verbal diarrhea doesn't do it justice, it's more like verbal aneurysm. I can't control it, before there's even a thought of, "Gee Paul, are you going to regret saying this?" It's out there, it's gone, skip to damage control. What made matters worse was that my two new acquaintances and Dave were laughing. Caesar on the other hand seemed mildly amused and frankly, I can't blame him. The next words out of my mouth were, "Please stop, don't laugh at that, it only encourages me." You see, when you think you're a funny person, like I do, you like to believe that it takes some level of intellect and brains to be funny. The worlds a shitty place and most people seem pretty miserable, trying to put a positive spin on things and make people laugh isn't easy, it's hard...it takes skill. That's what we, I, like to believe. Then we have what I've just described. I called attention to the fact that this poor guy's name is also shared by a popular unhealthy salad. People with brain damage and sever retardation are capable of making this link. It wasn't hard at all, it was easy, too easy. Sigh, it was a joke, for lack of a better term, it was supposed to be funny...sort of, and it just came out of my mouth. Did it take much smarts or intellect? No... But people laughed... Sorry Caesar, I'm a twisted little man who needs the laughs of other to feel valuable and worthy...and I love your salads.

Girl Advise For the Masses..

If you're dating an anorexic girl or one that just obsesses over weight, I suggest a gift certificate to Lane Bryant or Torrid, one of those fat girl stores. Nothing sends home that message of bodily inadequacy like letting them know they'll never be skinny enough in your eyes either.(Don't blame the mirror chubs!)Reminding them there's always room for improvement will bring on a long and self destructive shame spiral that will ensure you won't be getting dumped by them anytime soon. Follow this up with presents like gift certificates to your favorite eateries. That way, when all is ordered, eaten, and purged, it's really like buying a present for yourself.

Here goes nothing...

Hello everyone, my name is Paul, and this is my blog. As with much else in my life, I don't really have a plan or burning reason to start this or do this but, alas, here we are. I'm an aspiring comedian and writer and for the most part this should be an outlet for those kind of things. Now would be an opportune time to say something clever and witty to show my talents as aforementioned...but that would be too predictable. I cannot promise that I will post with any regularity at this point but hopefully the more I get used to this whole blogging thing, the more I'll share with you my weird twisted take on what's funny. I'm off to be gayer than an aids quilt and take pictures of myself for my profile, see y'all soon!