Pittsburgh - I'm Coming For Your Brains

We are on Rocktober's Eve, Reader. The most magical time of the year! In Rocktobers past, I have filled my schedule with cheap indie rock shows, my stomach with cheap PBR tall-boys and my wallet with...nothing because the first two things cleaned me out (my wallet and my lower intestine - damn PBR).

But this year is different, instead of waking up post-concert with a slow gate and an awkward moan - I've decided to spend my night doing the same.

I am participating in Pittsburgh's ZOMBIE FEST on Sunday, October 11th.


They are trying to take back the World Record for Zombie Walkers - and damnit if it didn't reanimate my heart to help.

But with any good zombie costume comes ONE question -

The wound.

Sure - anyone can do a themed zombie - but the REAL question is how did you die (the first time)?

So many options! Pitchfork through my stomach, hatchet through my head, gun shot, stab wound, bad Tuna at that cheap sushi place, car wreck, killer bees, chocolate - the options are endless.

So my question, dear Readers - how did I die?

I've got the shuffle. I've got the moan. I even have a slight craving for brains wrapped in bacon (or braincon as I like to call it).

Give me your most creative and hilarious idea and I'll try to make it come to life.

But please - help me out.

The pressure is killing me.

Job Security

Promotions are awesome. They make you feel important and normally come with more money. Also, you get new business cards to have but not know when to give to people.

But with the new title comes responsibility. As you get promoted you are asked to make more important decisions and be able to think critically about the company as a whole.

I think I am ready for a promotion...

...in my relationship.

Can I move up to "Senior Boyfriend" or "VP of Boyfriend Affairs"?

What will that get me? Am I allowed to watch more MacGyver reruns? Can I have entire meals made of bacon? Do I not have to explain why I'm pantless and 4 beers deep by noon on a Saturday?

Why do guys have a glass ceiling in relationships? How do I get talked into dress pants and argyle socks but my recommendation for nipple tassels falls on deaf ears?

I don't even necessarily need a huge promotion - how about I become more specialized; "Director of Remote Controls". Project Runway is OUT, Honey, there is a special on bear attacks.

Unfortunately there is a recession in girls that put up with talking exclusively about sports and zombies so I have to just be happy I am employed. I wouldn't want to cause a stir and get demoted down to just "friend".

Well, unless I got to keep the benefits.

The Good Book

First off just wanted to say it was great meeting Maxie and Lemmonex. While I missed out on most of the weekend shenanigans I did get to see the warm up to what I'm sure was a pretty amazing dance party. All it takes is those two and Alexa on her deck and it is already the coolest club in Cleveland.



Lets not pretend that status updates on Facebook aren't contests to see who can get the most comments. When you sign on and the Good Book tells you there are 6 notifications it is like Christmas - only better because you don't have to wear pants.

But what drives me crazy is when you read some ridiculously boring status like, "UGH! Sick again!" and it gets 42 comments. What the hell! Where is the drama? The passion? Where is the protagonist and the hero? You have 140 characters - do something with them!

"Dropping the kids off at school then time for laundry!" You are telling me that is worthy of 72 comments? I've read street signs more interesting than that.

"It's Friday!" Well, at least this is informative - though changing your screen name to "Captain Fucking Obvious" might help me to alleviate any confusion.

And so Facebook created the Hide feature. With the Hide feature my Facebook has now turned into "Facebook Survivor".

You took a quiz to find out which Sex and the City character you would be? You are now voted off my news feed.

Oh how cute, you tagged a picture about your friends with who is the Funny One or the Angry one. Pack your bags - you are gone.

In fact, I love hiding people so much I have my news feed down to only the best updates.

Mine.

Wait. What's this? This joker wants me to read his blog? I've got news for you, Mr Narm -

You are hidden.

TMI Thursday - Steam Bath

Well I've finally bit the bullet and participated in Lilu's Too Much Information Thursday. Enjoy.



One time I farted in the shower and it smelled so bad I had to get out and wait for the smell to go away before finishing my shower.

The end.

Sports!

Ouch. I am still suffering from the Dolphins' loss last night so here is what I am asking - please leave the best joke you know in the comments to soften my murderous rage. Maybe we can work this thing down to just an "assault and battery rage" or even a "light petting rage". Don't get in my way if you don't want to get to second base!

CATCH THE DAMN BALL TEDDY!

Everyday Enemies - Wave Em Like You Just Don't Care

I'm starting a new piece here at White-Collar Redneck. I call it Everyday Enemies. It isn't weekly and doesn't have corporate sponsorship...yet. Maybe someday soon it could be the Everyday Enemies brought to you by Enzyte. For now - this is all ya get.

Everyday Enemies is going to focus on the people and situations that interfere with my abilities to make it through everyday. The people that make me question whether this rat race is worth the cheese at the end. The people who ask, "Hot enough for ya?"

Today's Everyday Enemy - Overexcited Hands Storyteller

Know what your story doesn't need?

Touching.

In fact, I am fairly certain telling stories is not a contact sport.

Also - unless you are telling me a story about jazz hands - you can keep your hand motions to a minimum. Billy Mays has left us and with him went the need for waving down planes while talking.

Let's face the facts - if you are telling me a story, I am just waiting for you to finish so I can tell a better story. And, chances are I am hungover - and hungover people are like bears - you need to avoid sudden movements or gestures for fear they will rip your arms off and beat you dead with them.

Please take note -

If something is cold, I don't need to also feel how cold it is. I have been cold before. I am familiar with the feeling of something being cold - I live in fucking Cleveland. Your description is just fine.

I don't need to feel how hard someone hit / pinched / sexually harassed you. Again, pain is something I have felt before, use your words not your ridiculously annoying hands.

Finally - there is no need to hold my arm as you tell the story. While everything in my body wants to run away screaming, I promise I will not do so. I will be polite - and by polite I mean wait for the first time you stop to take a breath and then interrupt you so that I can start talking.

On second thought - maybe next time I see you, instead of coming over for a quick conversation - I'll just wave.

You're Doing It Wrong

This is ridiculously disgusting and completely not safe for work - so if you are easily offended or my Mom - please don't watch it.

If you are into awesome and awesome related things - then, by all means, proceed.


Office Masturbation - Awesome video clips here

Toys R Us Kid

My name is Jeff.

Just Jeff.

Not Jeffrey or Jefferson or Jefftardo.

Girls, this may come as a surprise because so many of you come up and say, "Hey there, Handsome." Handsome is not my name. It is my MIDDLE name.

When I was in college I worked at Toys R Us so that I could afford alcoholism.

Let me tell you - nothing is as hard on a hangover as a mother with a screaming child giving you the business for not having the correct Bratz doll. Listen, Lady, I'm sorry but your attempt to turn your daughter into a slut will have to wait 3-4 business days - go home, turn on MTV and deal with it.

At Toys R Us, when a large ticket item (say a bike or a sandbox) are purchased - someone has to go into the back and bring it up front for the customer.

For the first two weeks I worked there I would hear over the radio:

"Jeffrey - we have a pickup from the back."

And everyday I thought the same thing - "I will murder you until you are killed dead if you call me Jeffrey ONE MORE TIME, Radio Voice."

So finally after two weeks of this I had enough. I walked up front to the cashier and said, "Listen - my name is just Jeff - enough with the Jeffrey shit."

Her response?

"It's Geoffrey. As in Geoffrey the Giraffe. You know, the mascot of this entire store that is plastered on every square inch of open space? Him."

Oh.

Hmmm.

I guess Geoffrey is ok, then.

I Phone, You Phone, We All Phone For iPhone

I am a weak, weak man.

I promised myself I wouldn't get the iPhone.

No matter what, I said, I can't afford it. But then I got into the store with all the bright lights and trendy music and I caved. I CAVED!

So now I own an iPhone. I am a super trendy elitist nerd with black-rimmed glasses that swears music sounds better on vinyl. And none of those points were exaggerations.

I am Steve Jobs' bitch.

But so far I have not come under the iPhone spell. I haven't downloaded many apps or taken pictures or made lasagna or whatever it is iPhones do.

But I have felt the affect of the iPhone.

My bathroom visits are twice as long.

I sit down in there to do my 2ing and I got lost in a sea of internet and other funsies. Suddenly two days go buy and my ass has permanently attached itself to the toilet.

I walk out of the bathroom after a romp with the iPhone and there are flying cars and robots doing the dishes.

It is like I downloaded the Quantum Leap app.

Thank god there is an app to order pizza so I don't actually have to leave the bathroom as I surf the internet.

If I were more handy I would install a second toilet in my bathroom so I could stay in there all the time and not have to leave when other people need the bathroom. Unfortunately, I am bad at being handy so instead of flushing, my toilet would probably turn on my toaster. If only I were handy!

Hmmm...maybe there's an app for that.

Sit Down

I think we can all agree that sitting is awesome.

Everything about it is awesome - not supporting any weight, the comfort, the NOT standing part.

Yet, time after I time I offer my seat to someone and they say, "No thanks, I've been sitting all day."

WHAT!

It sounds like you have had an awesome day! Why not continue the awesomeness and sit more? Sitting is not drinking - you won't be hungover tomorrow from sitting too much.

I can't think of a situation where I wouldn't want to sit down. Standing is ok for MAYBE 5 minutes. Like "Hey! We're standing and talking and this is great."

But then I start looking for something to put my arm on to hold me up, then I try to lean on something - around minute 7 I am doing a tripod to avoid standing.

Know what I like to do after a long day of sitting? Sit more. As much as possible. I've never been like - "OH MAN - what a hard day. I am exhausted from all that work - I can't wait to get home and just stand there for awhile. Oh it shall be so relaxing. The standing. I don't even want to lean - just stand and relax - you know, because standing is so relaxing in comparison to the amount of relaxation you get from sitting. Standing rules sitting drools!"

So don't ever tell me that siting is overrated -

I can't stand it.

Ed Hardly

Top 5 Things I Would Rather Wear Than An Ed Hardy Shirt

1 - A "Big Johnson" shirt

2 - An angry cat with claws made from that plastic stuff that they wrap electronics in that is impossible to open without suffering multiple lacerations

3 - A "Palin 2012" sticker

4 - A shirt made entirely of hair, ants and those annoying tags on the back of t-shirts that rub your neck even after you cut them out because you can't get the last little bit

5 - A bag of Kirstie Alley's liposuctioned fat goo

What did I miss?

Nobody Home

I have decided to streamline your blog reading for today - instead of reading half of my post, being disappointed and finding a new blog to read; I am just going to link straight to a way funnier blog.

HA! I'm over there too. You sucker. You can't get away from me - I'm like internet herpes or that Kid Rock song.

"And we were trying different things and we were smoking funny things"

Fuck me.

Now that song is in my head.

Go read this post while I wash my ears out with battery acid.

Lucky Duck

I've been called lucky quite a few times in the last few weeks -

There was the time the lady backed into me and I was told I was "lucky" that the scratches should be able to be buffed out and not need a new bumper.

Or that I was "lucky" that the cable company was able to squeeze me in, after screwing up the first three meetings I set up.

I was "lucky" I only got stuck in a half-hour traffic jam, as people who left before me where there for an hour.

And now I am "lucky" that my brake pads and rotors will only cost a few hundred opposed to the $500-600 originally thought.

My luck sucks.

Why are the only times I get lucky when extremely bad things happen? Is that still considered luck? It should be considered "moderate suck".

Or "relative suck".

Or - "If you call me lucky as I write another check I swear to god I will stab you dead."

You see this on the news too, some horrible thing will happen and the newscaster will say the victim is lucky the bullet wasn't one inch over or it would have killed them.

THEY GOT SHOT! No matter what happens when you get shot - you are not lucky. Know what would be lucky? NOT GETTING SHOT.

If the person who got shot is lucky - what does that make the rest of us that didn't get shot? Is it a miracle?

The bullet could be made of diamonds and puppy smiles and I still wouldn't consider myself lucky for having it slice through my body.

So I might be the only "lucky" person on earf hoping and praying my luck will change -

Being lucky is too damn expensive.

You're All Fucked

I don't mean to cause alarm, but I woke up this morning with a...condition.

I felt normal, maybe a little stiff legged. My voice felt a little hoarse and I had the most unquenchable thirst...

FOR BRAINS!!!


Do you SEE that? I'm like 10 minutes from being part of the walking undead!

But am I scared and fighting for my life?

NO!

I'm worried about you. I've logged so many hours in front of zombie movies I am the perfect zombie protection plan. Without me, well, not to be mean, but you guys are fucked.

You think you are fine and, honestly, you probably have a few days. At least you out of towners. But from the looks of that tiny little red splotch on my eye, I'm a goner. And when I become a zombie - you don't stand a chance. Even with zombie eyes, if you take one look into these beautiful brown oceans of love you are lost at sea. And that's when I strike.

No, even as I sit here - waiting for the zombie virus to take over my senses and turn me into a shuffling, mindless ghoul, searching the earf for victims, I can't help but think of you first.

I mean, it could be worse...

I could have swine flu.

Color Me Surprised

Owning a house is the hardest hit to my manhood since I played the clarinet (if you are new here I will give you a minute to laugh at that fact).

I am trying to choose colors to paint each room and am forced to have arguments with the Lady Friend that end in me screaming things like, "GODDAMNIT I WANT RED ROSE BOUQUET!"

A man should never scream the word "bouquet". My testies actually started crawling up inside me out of embarrassment.

While scouring the aisles of Marshalls this weekend, I was actually BANNED from using the words "accent color". Which is unfortunate because those towels would have looked FAAAABULOUS in the kitchen.

And as if that isn't bad enough, ask me what color I am painting my bathroom. I dare you. Ask me.

PURPLE TWILIGHT.

Who the hell is naming these things? Can't we get a line of men's paint?

I want my room to be "Raw Meat Red".

My kitchen could be "Bacon Brown".

The dining room is "Grass Stain Green" with accent colors of "Bruised Knee Blue".

I want "You're My Boy, Blue" for the guest room.

And the basement walls could be "Halle Berry Brown".

But for the living room, I definitely want "Purple Twilight".

What? It looks GREAT with the "Red Rose Bouquet" accent color.