My Downstairs Neighbors

I live in a building in which I am the youngest resident by a solid 30 years. This makes for a mostly uninteresting life save for seeing old people in their pajamas which is a daily occurrence that never fails to surprise me. (Why old people wear pajamas everywhere is probably easily explained, but perhaps we'll save that for another time)

The neighbors who I have the most interaction with are the ones directly below me. I encounter them most days and the greetings are friendly as I've been put in charge of fixing their universal remote when it becomes deprogrammed. They speak barely any English and from what I gather they don't even share the same first language. And their universal remote deprograms itself a shocking amount (9 or 10 times in the past two years). I do not know their names, but one of them is from Greece and of of them is from Not-Greece and Not-America. They're aging and drink a lot of tea and he sneaks the occasional cigarette on his porch when she is not looking.

After the 3rd or 4th time I fixed the remote they began to reward me with food or dessert. It started with a bag of oranges and two Heinekens and it's grown to home-cooked meals featuring some sort of noodles on a paper plate wrapped in tin foil. I've always taken the food upstairs to my house, but have never consumed it. At first it was because the food looked wholly unappetizing. Immediately after the first bag they gave me a plate full of foreign pastries that looked disgusting and stale. I did not eat those pastries because they did not intrigue me. I did not eat the subsequent plates because it was around this time that I began to fear that the neighbors below me intended to kill me.

And this is when I began to fear them. The thing is, a universal remote is a pretty standard piece of technology. You find the code, program it in and then it works. If you don't have the code you simply tell the remote to find it and when it guesses right you hit "enter." Now, I don't expect an elderly couple to know how to fix the remote, but it certainly is suspicious that the remote manages to become deprogrammed so often. The only palpable explanation is that it is not merely nature deprogramming that remote. So naturally they are deprogramming the remote on purpose. Why would they do that? Well, an outside observer would see two elderly people and think that maybe they're lonely and like the idea of their young neighbor coming down to visit. I would counter that maybe the express reason for the deprogramming is so that they may provide me with a plate of food for reprogramming. And if the goal of my visit is to give me food then clearly something must be going on with the food. And if something is indeed going on with the food that it is almost certainly poisoned.

What their original reasons for wanting to poison me are, I'll almost certainly never know. Maybe they're trained killers who have retired to Los Feliz and merely miss the power that came with craftily and untraceably taking a man's life or more likely maybe I stomp around too much up here. In a building whose demographic is so geriatric I'm sure I'm something of a nuisance to the building. I listen to music, I stay up late, I stumble home drunk. I'm not saying it's true, but I wouldn't be shocked if the building has some sort of secret basement where everyone goes to meet and at one of these meetings someone raised a bony hand and suggested a "solution" to the "problem in apartment 7." Any of these things could be the reason for the origin of the attempts on my life. But these were just in passing I'm sure. For I am now convinced that they know that I have never eaten any of the foods they gave me and that their desire to see me done away with is now more focused due to my rejection of their gifts.

In short, I think that the reason they want to kill me is that I have not eaten their poison. Which seems like putting the cart before the horse, but hear me out.

I became convinced of this because I slowly got the distinct sense that they KNEW I wasn't eating what they gave me. I'd get sidelong glances from them and another plate of food offered when I hadn't even programmed the remote. Suddenly they were knocking on my door at night and offering me another fresh plate. They were acting strangely. Clearly they knew. "How would they know?" I questioned myself. And there are only two possible answers to that question.

1. They dig through my trash.

2. I'm not dead.

If they were trying to poison me and they noticed that I had not died they would then know for certain that I was not eating their food. I can only imagine the rage it would send them into at the rejection of their generosity (feigned, but generous all the same). I also have come to believe that if they were digging through my trash it betrays a desire to kill me, because in order to kill someone you have to know them first. So, through that deductive reasoning I have proved that my downstairs neighbors want me dead.

And thus, I fear what my neighbors are capable of. What started as an exercise of assassination can only now have multiplied into a holy war of which my death can be the only outcome. At first they wanted me dead to pass the time, but now that I have offended them by rejecting their food and drink they want me dead because it is the only way to defend their honor and avenge the insult I have caused them. I think they'll stick to poisoning plates of home cooking for now, but if I hold out for too long they'll almost certainly move on to blowdarts or sniper rifles. I may soon be confined to my apartment for fear that if I exit they will be able to strike.

So if I die anytime soon. You know what happened.

What If...

Q: What if I wanted buffalo wings, mozzarella sticks and chicken fingers?

A: There's an App for that.

Jar

Here is what I've been up to lately -

- On Monday night I went to my favorite restaurant, Jar. Jar is a steakhouse that blows me away. I had the ribeye, we shared some duck fried rice and chocolate pudding and I had two old-fashioneds. It was a great dinner, that was almost ruined by the women sitting next to us. One of the women talked for forty-five minutes with almost no interruption. It was shocking how much she had to say while accompanied by grunts from her co-diner. They were clearly co-workers and spoke about their work environment non-stop. When they left we were just finishing our dinner course and I insisted that we sit in silence for a couple minutes to just enjoy the sound of nothing.

- I'm reading the book that eventually spawned "The Wire." For the uneducated it's called "Homicide," and it was written by David Simon who went on to create "Homicide" the television series and even later "The Wire." Simon was a reporter in Baltimore who embedded himself with the homicide division of the Baltimore PD. So far the book is fantastic. It's gripping and fascinating and as a fan of the T.V. series it's interesting to see the origins of some of the ideas and characters that I have been so enamored by. It's the type of book that makes me wish I read with a highlighter so I could mark my favorite phrases and quotes. But I don't. Because I'm lazy.

- I had what I think is probably my best birthday party ever. I managed to get 31 of my closest friends to go to a Dodger game and make one dollar wagers on whatever they wanted. Highlights included betting on strikes and balls, a bet that involved whether or not a girl in front of us had a back tattoo and exactly what time the first pitch would be thrown out. I went nuts and had a shitload of fun. And this picture came from it. Which is reward enough.

Hey Now

Here's a video I wrote. It's featured on the front page of FunnyOrDie.com today.

Enjoy!

Obama=Hitler featuring Paul Scheer - watch more funny videos

Day Thirty

In a few minutes (or hours depending on how focused I can be) I will click the "publish post" icon at the bottom of my screen and I will save my balls from a violent collision with Scott's foot. My balls will still be subject to other dangers but they will be more safe than they were on September 1st and that counts for something. I've enjoyed this challenge. It wasn't easy and if I'd failed it would've been an extremely stupid reason to get kicked in the balls, but having been up to the task I can look back and be happy I went through this. I think there are a couple things that we've learned:

1. This was not a very good blog. This is, I think, undeniably true. My respect for those who write something interesting on a daily basis has grown immeasurably. I found it nearly impossible to pick a topic (and didn't hesitate to mention that in my posts) and when I did have a topic I found it hard to determine whether or not it was actually worth writing about.

2. I think I realized that having an exercise like this is valuable to me as a writer. Forcing myself to put something down every day has done two things. First, it's given me practice. Spending time on the activity every day has made me faster and better. Second, it's given me a sense of accomplishment. The unemployed writing lifestyle can be a little trying on one's self-esteem. "Accomplishing" something every day helps battle that.

3. I'm inherently lazy. A lot of these posts would have been significantly better had I spent a little bit of time on them. In fact, I think some of the better ones were ones that I took a lot of time to proof read (which makes sense). I got lucky on a couple by just jotting something down and throwing it online but for the most part had I taken some real time to work on these posts the blog would've been much better.

4. Getting kicked in the balls is a strong motivator. I only came close to missing a day once. That's pretty impressive considering that sometimes I forget to eat.

I'm not sure if I'll continue this process. There is something about it I like. But if I were to go on I think I'd need to do more to find a common thread for the blog. What is this blog about? What kind of things will a reader find here? As it stands, there is no real answer to those questions. And if this blog is for anyone besides me those questions need to be answered. The truth is I write much better with a goal in mind. I think I'm a bit of an independent thinker, but I'm also not really a self-starter. So finding that central theme would take a long time. I thought something like that would be uncovered in the month that I've been doing this, but it didn't really materialize. The nice thing is that as far as I know this blog has two readers so I won't worry too much about how my audience feels.

Well, that's it. 30 posts in 30 days. Not nearly as good as that dude who ate hamburgers, but it was a journey. Thanks for the challenge Scott. I look forward to hearing your song.

Also, Steve, you're running out of time. Los Feliz singles dot com. Do it.

The Penultimate Day

I figure tomorrow's post will be a "what we've learned" type summary. Then I'll decide if I'll still post here. Something about doing this daily has been cathartic...

I've been trying to get into soccer. I really have been giving it an honest effort. I found the Fox Soccer Channel in my lineup and I try to switch over to it when there is a game on. I've even gone so far as to record a game or two when there is a team that I think I might be interested in watching. But so far, my efforts have been totally fruitless (did I already write a post about this?).

The first obstacle to soccer viewing is that I don't have even the slightest connection to a team. As a child I chose to root for the University of Michigan because my Dad lived in Michigan. I had no university affiliations and no relationship with my father, but the connection was enough. With soccer there is virtually nothing to link me to a team. In international soccer I root for the Irish (I can never find myself rooting for America) so I tried out being a Celtic fan because the Irish bar we go to in San Diego has posters for Celtic everywhere. I've never seen them watch a Celtic game, but you get the sense that if it were on, those drunk Irish dudes would know what was happening.

Here's the thing about Celtic. They kind of suck. In their league (the scottish premiere league) they do quite well, but those games are not even close to televised in the states. In the games that are televised (the UEFA championship games) Celtic gets annihilated. They don't belong on the same field as the team's they play in the Champions League. In fact, they kind of look like the guys from the Irish bar in San Diego if they formed a soccer team and played when they were really drunk.

So they're out.

I wrack my brain for other teams I could like, but I don't have any connections to any cities in England or the rest of Europe for that matter. Even if I did the other thing about the English Premier league is that the lack of parity is much worse than anything we have here. Of the 20 or so teams in the EPL only 4 of them win, or have won championships (these stats are NOT accurate). I don't like rooting for dominant dynasties and would much rather pick a team with a real shot at a Cinderella season, but the lower teams in the EPL are virtually guaranteed to be terrible. Seriously, there are 8 teams with worse chances than the Padres have in baseball.

The other barrier to entry for soccer is how many leagues there are. I watch games on television and have no idea why they're being played and for what. Teams that I'm certain are in the English league play teams that are based in Greece. How is one supposed to keep track of this? I feel like I need to hire a bunch of foreigners to sit in my living room and explain everything. I can get a British guy, a Mexican, someone from Spain and a guy from Russia or Eastern Europe. I don't want an Italian because he'd be all swarthy and probably try to make out with my girlfriend and I figure the Spanish guy can explain the Italian league. Then they'll all tell me about their leagues and their favorite players and which teams are which. That way I could soak it all in quickly and be an instant soccer genius.

Note: I wouldn't have a Brazilian because he'd do capoeira and kick me in the face. Which would be unpleasant.

I guess the truth is that I'll have to sit around and wait for the World Cup when soccer coverage in the United States goes way up and I can learn as much as I can, which should boomerang me into the new season. That seems like a solid plan.

In conclusion, this post feels like it needs a conclusion.

Day 28

Happy birthday, mother.

Right now I'm watching "Big Bang Theory." This is the 9th episode I've watched in the last 24 hours. "Big Bang Theory" isn't an amazing show and it turns out that it's not awful either. But still no show is worthy of 9 episodes in 24 hours (unless we're talking about "Hoarders" which if you haven't seen it, is totally necessary).

As an aspiring TV writer one is forced to write "spec" episodes of existing television shows. The idea behind doing this is to demonstrate that you can write a joke, but also to demonstrate that you can write within the confines of a specific style. A show runner is looking for someone who can help their writing staff with ideas, but they also want to know that you can write their genre. My writing partner and I have already written a spec of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" so we need to pick a show that is a more "traditional" middle-america type show. So this process begins with us picking a show that fits that.

So we settled on "Big Bang Theory" with neither of us ever having really seen it. So I'm now on my 10th episode of this show and I'm still not even sure I like it. But it is a strange endeavor to watch a show not as a fan, but studying it for the sake of trying to mimic it.

The good news is that I feel like we can write a funny episode of this show. Despite it being slightly more traditional than shows I usually watch, the sense of humor is up the right alley. Writing for nerds is fun. You can break reality and nerds are expected to talk strangely.

Someday I'll actually work hard on one of these posts.

Two days!

Day Twenty Seven

Our fantasy baseball season mercifully came to an end today. Dallas beat Joe Quadres in two straight games to claim the Sabo cup for the fourth time. I'd like to compare Dallas to the Yankees of our fantasy league, but that's not exactly accurate. The Yankees have tradition and class, Dallas has, well, he doesn't have tradition and class is not his strong suit. When he won today he sent me a text that said "Number 4 A-hole."

So that was nice of him.

Personally, I had my worst year ever. Some bad luck and some injuries had me in last place from the get go. I hope to someday win the trophy back, but for now I'll have to make myself content with my great apartment and cool job.

Now I'll spend the next few months pretending to care about things other than my fantasy baseball team. I'll talk about restaurants and politics and other sports, but if you look closely you'll see a deadness in my eyes. It's not your imagination, I'm faking it.

Fuck you, blog

it's fucking saturday, dogg. fuck you.

Twenty High Five

It's one thousand degrees outside right now. How can anyone be expected to write a blog post in this kind of heat. I'm seriously not exaggerating, it's one thousand degrees outside and I'm fucking miserable.

I have an apartment with an air-conditioner, so I recognize that I'm probably ahead of the game on this. But the unfortunate reality with my AC is that it cools a column of air in my living room and nothing else. California apartments are not designed with the elements in mind so the gap in my door and my louvered windows pretty much act to match the inside temperature with the outside temperature. Of course, it's on a slight delay so my apartment heats up slowly and cools off slowly.

The AC corridor, as I've come to call it, has resulted in me dragging my mattress from my bedroom to my living room on especially hot nights. When the mattress is there it shrinks my world down to about 15 feet. My life becomes AC unit --> mattress --> couch. This is where I live for the 2 or 3 day bursts of heat that we experience here.

The drawback to this arrangement is how awful the rest of the apartment is. While sitting on the couch you forget that when you stand up the heat will be suffocating. Literally, two feet above the cool air that surrounds the couch is the blistering heat from outside. When nestled in this column of cold air you begin to feel trapped. Dishes go unwashed, bedrooms go untidied and bathroom breaks become more infrequent. You become a victim of comfort.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is that my apartment is really messy. And as a result I'm trying to blame it on my air conditioning. pretty weak, huh?

Twenty Four

This is the time when you should start paying VERY close attention. Because in the final week of a commitment is when I tend to fail that commitment. So this is prime time for me to make an appointment with a ball kick. Get ready!

Twenty Free!

Today I wrote a sketch instead of a blog post. I couldn't figure how to format it well, but here you go:

We’re outside a Trader Joe’s or some sort of nature mart. Two guys in suits reading newspapers stand outside. Their briefcases are sitting on the ground in front of them.
CALE
You see this article?
NIC
Which one?
\CALE
Looks like Bernake is saying the recession is over.
NIC
I hope so. I’ve been out of work so long that I’m starting to go a little crazy.
A woman(hey, heather’s a woman) walks by.
NIC (CONT’D)Excuse me, ma’am.
HEATHERI’m really busy.
NICCan you spare some change?
HEATHER
No.
CALEPlease, we just need a little bit of money to get something to eat.
HEATHERI’m not an idiot, I know someone who is looking for investors when I see one.

Suddenly Ennis bursts out of the store in his NatureMart uniform.
ENNIS
HEY! I thought I told you two to get the fuck out of here?
CALE
Come on bro, cut us a break.
ENNIS
You’re not my Bro, you’re former investment bankers and you guys can’t beg out here. This is NatureMart not a fucking conference room. (to Heather)I’m sorry, ma’am. Come on in, let me know if you need help finding anything.
HEATHER
Oh, it’s no problem.Heather goes into the store.
ENNIS
Alright, now you two losers go raise capital somewhere else, comprende?!
Ennis goes back inside.
NIC
Man, that guy has such a stick up his ass.
CALE
Why’s he so pissed off, we’re just trying to get back on our feet.

A man walks by.


NIC
Excuse me, sir, can you spare a couple bucks.
CALE
We just need a little something to eat.
MAN
This isn’t for some start-up venture or something is it?
CALE
Please? We’re starving.
MAN(suspiciously)Tell you what, I’ll go inside and bring something out for you guys, how’s that?

The guys are silent for a beat.

NIC
Ok, look, it’s for a start-up venture. But it’s a really good opportunity.

MAN
I knew it! Goddamned banking swine.
CALE
But listen, the market is about to bounce back up, you don’t want to get caught on the outside looking in on this.
MAN
Leave me alone

As he walks off Ennis re-emerges.
ENNIS
You guys want me to call the cops? Get the fuck out of here.
NIC
Come on, man. Where else are we supposed to go?
ENNIS
I don’t fucking care, do nothing, go to a park, get fat. Act like a real human being without a job. CALE
But we can’t afford to ignore an opportunity.
NIC
Especially with this economy...
ENNIS
Enough about the economy. When are you two jokers going to wake up and realize it’s not all about money?
CALE
Excuse me?
ENNIS
I know your type, slick money grubbing bankers! Wake up! Instead of being out here trying to get investors you should be off somewhere smoking pot and thinking about shit?
CALE
Are you saying we should smoke pot to help us think of our next step.
ENNIS
No, man, to think about shit. Like what color you’d be if you could be any color? Or whether or not the illuminati are real. You know. Shit. That matters way more than making money.
NIC
With all due respect, I appreciate what you’re saying, but capitalism is all we know. We’re a product of our environments.
ENNIS
Right. You think I got to where I am because of my background? You think it’s easy to roll out of bed at noon and come to NatureMart and sell organic products, of course it’s not. But I pull myself up by my bootstraps, because I know that what life is really about is getting high as shit and chaining myself to a fucking tree to fight suburban sprawl. The only person who can make you realize that is you and handouts from these customers so you can start some website and make a billion dollars is not going to get you anywhere. Now get the fuck out of here because you guys are harshing the shit out of my buzz.

Ennis goes back into the store.

CALE
Man, that guy’s a real square.
NIC
No kidding.

As he says this a customer walks by and throws money in their briefcase.

CALE
It’s like he just won’t let us live. (to the nice customer)God bless you, sir.

Nic scoops up the money.

CALE (CONT’D)We should do something.

NIC
Hang on, that guy gave us enough to score some crank.

CALE
Awesome, let’s go.

They exit.
Immediately after Joe Chandler enters in a suit. He opens his briefcase with a sign that reads “Why Lie? I need investors”Ennis enters.

ENNIS(shaking his fist at the sky)Goddamnit!

Day Twenty Woo!

Almost done with this thing. Which means you're almost done reading it too.

Today I had to write a bio for myself. I hate writing bios. For some reason listing one's own accomplishments is trying. And it's nearly impossible to make the writing flow smoothly. I wish they would let you write a bio in list form. But you can't. Here's what I came up with:

Joe Chandler is awesome and his accomplishments are many. The other thing that is important to know about his accomplishments is that they are spectacular. In addition, Joe is exceptionally tall, but not in a way that is freakish. In fact, most people find his height comforting. Later in life Joe discovered a propensity for being the coolest man alive. This led to him bedding many chicks and having his way with them. However, he has always been a gentleman with the aforementioned chicks. Additionally, his gentlemaness is surpassed only by his cleverness which is unparalleled except for maybe by Stephen Hawking and the lesser known Steven Hawking. Barack Obama once said of Joe, "I like that guy." Upon hearing that Barack said this, Joe replied, "I like THAT guy." When Joe said these words he pointed his two thumbs at himself. Joe also invented the joke format "who has two thumbs and is ______" but he apologizes for it spiraling out of control.  "Some things can't be helped," says Joe, "when a joke is brilliant, it's brilliant, even I can't bring it back." One is forced to believe Joe because he never lies, unless of course it's to protect someone's feelings. He has always put other's feelings ahead of his own. He is a saint and a scholar.

Joe admits that he has one flaw. He keeps a terrible blog. And for that he is sorry.

Day 21 - Life's Important Questions

It's been a tough day of important tasks. While completing these extremely important tasks that I've been doing today I also managed to catch an episode of MTV's True Life and some other network's (CMT maybe?) Inside the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (The show is actually called "Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders" but "Inside the DCC" would've been a way better, and slightly perverted title(or even better "Inside A DCC")). 

"Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders" follows the trials and tribulations of, well, The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. It follows the girls that want to be the cheerleaders and it follows the girls who are cheerleaders. Needless to say it's right up there with "The Daily Show" as one of the smartest shows on television. Politics and world affairs are at the forefront of the program as they tackle the really important issues of our time. There are also a lot of shots of girl's asses. Lots of asses. Seriously, like every four or five seconds you see a butt. (And oddly it's not that hot, you keep watching because you want to see hot ladies, but you never really do). 

BUTTS!!!!

The highlight of the program (for me) was the interview stage. They bring the girls who want to be members of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (and some of these girls talk about it being their life long dream) into a room in groups of three. They then ask the girls a series of interview questions. It's fairly standard stuff and the answers are highly entertaining. 

There I was enjoying the ride of mostly air headed women answer questions when I was caught off guard. The giant african-american trainer, the only man on the interview panel amongst a legion of surgeried(not a word) women in their 40's,  leans across the table and asks the candidates point blank "besides being a cheerleader, name one thing that you HAVE to do before you die?"

Not surprisingly this stumped the girls. Like really stumped them. Like you know how reality shows will often edit a show to make someone appear dumb, but it's obvious they're taking a shot from something else to make them confused? It was like that, except there were no cuts. He asked the question and it panned over to the girls who sat there. Stunned.  One of them muttered something about how it "would be something crazy, because I'd be dying, like, so it would be something I wouldn't do now."

Then the trainer said, "I've got news for you, you're going to die." And one of the girls was like, "whoa." The first reason I love this moment was because they were interviewing girls to be cheerleaders and who the fuck cares if they have dreams beyond looking pretty on the sidelines of an NFL football game? I mean, it's nice to think that these girls have aspirations, but is it important to the job? The second reason I loved it is because I instantly imagined an interview scenario in which I was asked this question.

Before I go on an interview or a pitch I like to spend some time thinking about any potential questions or scenarios. My friend Zach even writes out answers to questions, he even comes up with jokes he might be able to use. Essentially he does his best job to script out his interview. I do something similar but rely a little bit more on my improv skills. I imagine the questions and think about what the right answer is and then I go by the seat of my pants. When that trainer asked what the cheerleader prospects needed to do before they died I realized that I never in a million years would predict that as an interview question.  Therefore, I would have no answer. I would've looked just as stumped as those girls.

Unless the job is professional dreamer there is no reason for my prospective employer to care about what I want to accomplish in my life besides the career I am applying for. And what is a good answer to that question? Skydiving? That seems underwhelming. Start a family? That's weak and feels corny. Play professional baseball? That's too mired in fantasy. Even sitting here writing this, I don't know what the answer to that question is. Do you? Do you know what you NEED to do before you die? Because I don't. I know I want to write comedy, but those are the interviews I go on, so that answer is eliminated by the question. 

The more I think about it, the more I guess I'd have to say that the thing I need to do before I die is to have sex with a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Wait, I mean to BE a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Yeah, that's it. 

And that's the story of how the show "Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders" made me think about the direction of my life. Inspiration can come from anywhere...you just have to be watching reality television to see it. 

"You're going to DIE! What else do you NEED to do? THINK! And do SIT-UPS!!!!

What Day Is It, Anyways

I think I'll write about rattlesnakes tomorrow. Needless to say, it will not be a pleasant experience. 

I really want a beer right now and there is a ton in my fridge. My guests over the last week were kind enough to purchase beer often. Unfortunately though, it's almost all Coors Light.  Which is a terrible beer. If Coors Light were a football team they'd be the St. Louis Rams. If Coors Light were a metaphor it'd be the one before this one.

Uh-oh - This just turned into a bad metaphors post:

I'm really hungry. If my hunger was the amount of evil a person can be, it would be Saddam Hussein plus Hitler (or Obama). 

I'm really glad Chris Collinsworth is the NBC football announcer now. I like him. Earlier we were watching Dick Enberg and he's more senile than Vin Scully. If Dick Enberg were a drunk he'd be the kind of drunk that starts babbling about things that don't make sense and forgets everyone's name. 

I've been feeling the pressure of not working lately. I get regular checks from the government, but they're not quite enough to sustain me. If the checks I got from the government were a sexual act they'd be a handjob. It's enough to get you by, but you really wish there was more. (Also, it's embarrassing to say you get money from the government and it's embarrassing to say you got a handjob). 

I wish this blog was funny.  I'll have to work on that. You'd think I'd be able to do that. I am funny, right? Kind of? A little bit? If this blog was a comedy movie it would be Schindler's List. 

We would like to let you know that we are having some temporary issues at the servers for our dynasty featrure and our engineers are aware of this. They are diligently working upon this issue and hope to get it resolved soon. We're sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.

That is the text of the e-mail I received from EA Sports. In regards to our NCAA 10 Playstation 3 dynasty. If the amount I cared about this was the amount I cared about it, you'd be shocked and embarrassed on my behalf. 

Perhaps a real cohesive post tomorrow. Technically this post counts, but even I'm willing to admit that it's bullshit. If this post was an animal's feces it'd be the feces of a bull. 

Day Nineteen - In Which Our Hero Starts To Lose Count

Fuck, my fucking back hurts so fucking bad. Fuck, man. It's like there's a bunch of fucking tightness around my fucking shoulder blades. And I'm like "Fuck, shoulder blades. Chill the fuck out." But they're just like, "Fuck you" and then they wrench up tighter. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I tried to drink to relax it, but no fucking dice. Then I try to lie down to make it feel better, but the couch is like "fuck you, I'm not comfortable. Also, I'm a talking couch" I should smoke pot, but I don't really fucking do that and I don't fucking have any. Fuck. God, my fucking back. It really fucking hurts. Not like hospital pain, but enough that I'm like, "Fuck, how do I make this not fucking hurt anymore?" Oh well, guess I'll have to get a new one. 

Fuck.

Tomorrow I'll write about why I'm so fucking depressed. Physical pain one day, emotional the next. Hooray!

Day Eighteen - In Which Our Hero's Houseguests Nearly Derail him on their Last Day

I've had someone staying on my pull out couch since Tuesday night. My house is a mess, I haven't done anything productive since Tuesday daytime and frankly, I'm rattled.

I'm not good at being around people for this long. I need breaks. I need periods of time where I can sit with no one around and speak to no one. This much exposure to people certainly hinders my blogging process and it has a far worse effect on the rest of my life. 

In short, I've gone crazy over the past couple of days. Am I the only person who reacts like this? I feel like some people have boundless energy for people and guests. I am not that person. 

Leave me alone. 

Joe

This process is getting easier, I kind of like posting here everyday. Even if it's just drivel.

Scott and Steve - I'd love if you each gave me one topic for a post that I can use during the last ten days. 

Bye!

Day Seventeen - In Which Our Hero Stumbles and Finds A Second Wind

This is beginning to drag on. Probably for you more than me. 

I hit a low point today. I spent time IMing a customer service representative from EA Sports to try to figure out how to fix something with my online Dynasty on NCAA Football 10. I will be 30 in less than two weeks and I still play video games. Not only that, but I play video games to the point that I waste time trying to fix problems with them by complaining and seeking customer help. I should be spending that time learning how to invest my money or worrying about what's happening in Iraq or reading more about the public option so I can defend it to dumbasses. But alas, I do not. Right now the foremost thing on my mind is how to get the best recruits to come the fictional Occidental College that I've created in a video game. 

And you know what. That kind of makes me happy. 

Day Sixteen

Fuck. That was close.

Today was a weird and long and strange day. I'm exhausted and half asleep. And I almost went to bed without posting.

But I didn't.

My balls survive another day. 

Day Fifteen - Saying Goodbye to a Friend

Halfway home, fuckers. 

Today I'm saying goodbye to someone who has been a part of my life for a long time. 

I've known Sean for more than a decade. We first met in high school, we lived miles apart, but somehow made a connection and held onto a friendship through college (he didn't go to college, but still). 

After college Sean and I lived together until I made the move back to LA. We've kept in touch through the years and have both had some pretty cool successes and it's been fun to share that. Similarly we both had some crashes that mirrored each other a bit, so I think I've always felt a kinship with him in that way. 

Recently, Sean, who is a musician, has been starting up a new band. This process put him in a situation where he had to move out of his place in San Diego, but he wasn't yet sure where he'd ultimately be landing so he needed a temporary situation. Sean left his apartment and posted up in my living room for three days a week, thinking that if he had to stay in LA we'd look for something a little bit more permanent. His work ended up taking him to Georgia and Arizona for 8 months. In the meantime, he left his beautiful 47" HD TV in my living room. For the last 8 months I've been the keeper of this television and I've enjoyed it's pleasures in ways I never thought possible. 

But tonight Sean is taking his television and with it he's taking a piece of my heart. I've been gently comforting the TV all day. We talked about all the good times we had. Like the time that I watched hockey on it. Or the time that I played my Playstation 3 on it. And we laughed. The TV told me it wants to stay, it told me that Sean doesn't love it the way I do, but I told it "no." He'll remember the good times with Sean and the scar of being abandoned will heal and eventually I'll get a new TV. But not anytime soon. 

I'm not happy about going back to standard definition, but it worked fine for me before. Someday when  HD TVs are cheaper or I change my mind about them being overpriced I'll go back. But for today, it's goodbye.

I bet you thought at the beginning of this post that I was saying goodbye to Sean. Well, I am. I'm really fucking mad at him for taking his TV back, so fuck that guy. 

Love,

Joe

If you love something, set it free, if it comes back and it was an inanimate object to begin with, be a little freaked out by that. 

Day Fourteen

I hate writing about this, but:

I haven't seen it, but last night Kanye West apparently jumped on stage and ruined somebody else's big moment at the MTV VMA's. I know about this because I use Facebook and Twitter. A lot of my friends are pretty worked up about this injustice. Apparently, Kanye West is both crazy and something of an asshole. And the people are livid.

I'm also pretty upset about this incident, but what really bugs me about is that I know about it. People I know really still watch the MTV Video Music Awards? Really? They do that? I turn 30 in almost exactly two weeks and I will occasionally watch MTV for some brief entertainment, but I do my best not to get  invested in what they're doing. So while I agree that it sounds like what Kanye did was pretty rude, maybe it shouldn't have ended up on our radar. The MTV awards are produced by MTV and I believe they're voted on by fans...so...why does what anybody does at the awards matter? And also, Kanye is a rapper...so...why do I care about what happened today?

I'm not going to get high and mighty and say "there are more important things going on." I watch a ton of sports. And those don't matter either, but the Kanye West incident just seems so childish. Do we all really care what he did? I think Taylor Swift should care. And I think the other musicians should care. But Kanye West does not affect our lives. Let's all be 30 and hold on to our appreciation of music, but let go of our fascination with the storylines. That seems like a good solution.

Maybe I should quit facebook...but then I don't know what I'd do with my time. 

Day Thirteen

Tonight I went to trivia night. It was the hardest trivia I've ever played. We got creamed. The team that won had Thom Yorke on it. 

Such a strange night. 

Day Twelve

Look, I get that Dr. Dre's time in the sun has passed by. "The Chronic" might be the most important hip hop album of all time, it was certainly the biggest rap album of my generation. But it HAS been almost 20 years since it came out. I get that. Deep in my heart I am at peace with the fact that, despite easily being one of the top 5 most influential hip hop producers ever, Dr. Dre has gotten old and will never again do anything as important as "The Chronic" or discovering Eminem. I know these things and I am ultimately comfortable with them. I know these things in the same way that I know that John Cleese will never again do anything as brilliant as Monty Python and Fawlty Towers. Artists have a window in which they will perform at their highest level. After that point you do not know what they will do, but the higher they were at the peak, the bigger the fall will seem. And I think the majority of us are comfortable with letting Dr. Dre ride off into the sunset (in a lowered El Dorado of course). But what I cannot abide by is Dr. Dre doing commercials for Dr. Pepper. 

What's going on, Dre? What happened? I would think that the man responsible for "Let Me Ride" would not be as amused that his name is "Dr" and the product's name is "Dr." I know that an ad executive would think it was brilliant, but you Dr. Dre should think that the similarities are  "whack." In the pitch meeting did they hit the "Dr" angle really hard? Or did they give you the "your fans have grown up now" pitch? What sealed the deal? Did they tell you they'd have a DJ in the ad so you'd keep your cred? Or did you spend all your money? Why didn't you say "Dr. Pepper is really good on Deez Nuts" in the ad? Is Snoop going to start doing ads for the Peanuts Christmas special? Please tell me it ends here. I think the right thing for you to do would be to announce that you've made a horrible mistake to stop the bleeding. Please, Dr. Dre go out into the world and discover another crazy rapper. I expect more from you.

Love,

Joe

I'm getting lazy. 

Day Eleven

The reality is, I don't have something interesting to say every single day of the month. So I'm just going to tell you about my day. 

This morning I woke up at 8:30 (CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?!?). Then my writing partner and I had a phone interview that lasted 21 minutes. (I know, I'm RARELY on the phone for that long(my ear got so HOT!!!!)).

Then I went on my computer for a while. I got some emails. (Nothing interesting). Then Savitri came over and we went and got lunch at Gelson's. (sandwich for me, I'm not telling for her). 

Then, you'll never guess. We watched TWO episodes of Mad Men (Don Draper is so HAND-SOME!!!!!). Also, some crazy shit happened on the show (Peggy totally got HIGH! like on MARIJUANA!!!!)

Then, it was RIGHT NOW!!!! And I'm blogging and Savitri is watching So You Think You Can Dance on the TiVOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

oooh boy, I'm exhausted. Such a looooooooong day.

Next up, UMAMI Burger. Woo hoo!!!

Day Ten

1/3 of the way. No need to worry about me yet, I'll probably fail on September 28th (My Mom's birthday) or September 30th (the last day, I never finish anything). 

There are a lot of things to love about the return of football season. I can look forward to time wasting (covered in a previous post), I can look forward to having an excuse to get out of things because I have plans to watch football and I can watch football. But with football season comes one of the things I hate most in this world. Seeing the same commercials over and over and over...and over and over...(you get the idea).

Where I watch football we usually have more than one television running. Which means that we see these commercials several times because we're watching CBS in more than one market. As a result, we end up doing a number of things. We have inside jokes, we hate actors (and sometimes even recognize them in other commercials), we become giant fans of actors and we also engage in intense debates as to how they were made.

Do you know that I can whisper "clark" at the exact time the kid does in this commercial? 

Or did you know that Errol Morris directed these commercials and that in the original 

the guy was actually drawing?

I knew. And it's all because I saw the commercial enough times to get into arguments about it.  

There are already a couple of awful candidates for this year's commercial hell. Perhaps I'll update 

you as they cement themselves as this year's contenders.

Love,

Joe

Day Nine - Topics - "Drips"

Hey Kiddos,

It's day nine of my journey-to-the-center-of-not-getting-my-balls-kicked and today it's official that trying to post on this blog is getting in the way of things that I need to do in my day to day life. I barely managed to squeeze a haircut in yesterday and today's scheduled car wash will have to be moved to a later date. Blogging has taken over the free space in my schedule. Fortunately for me, I'm not working so there is always tomorrow to get things done. The blog waits for no one.

I need topics. Any ideas? Please give me ideas. Prompts, if you will. Because half the reason this is hard is because I have no idea what to write about except for the process of writing a blog (oh fuck, I've done it again).  And I think the entire point of this exercise is to get some creative ideas and not get stuck in filling in the blanks because it's an assignment. 

I just heard this Eminem song that's called "Drips." It's really at an entire new level of songwriting. The opening verse is "rapped" by someone other than Eminem (I'm sure a quick google search would reveal who - I'm feeling lazy). This man proceeds to rap about hooking up with a chick who works in a laundromat. He mentions waking up with "pussy stank on his penis" (a direct quote!) - he mentions that he has got to "hit it from behind - it's mandatory." This song seems like a pretty straight up having sex with a chick song. It's exactly what you'd expect from an Eminem song, it's really fucking gross, talks about busting a nut and all that. And so the listener settles in to hear the fucking chicks song and prepares themselves for the type of disgusting creativity Eminem is known for. (note: the highlight of the first verse is when he says "her pussy was tighter than conditions of us black folks.") But as it turns out, it is not an ordinary "fucking bitches" song.

It starts to get odd at the end of the first verse. Obie Trice (the other guy who is rapping, I googled it!) closes out his rap with the line: 

"Now I'm frustrated cause my dick was unprotected,

and Dr. Wesley is telling me I really got that shit."

Ok. Odd...Something just went horribly awry with this song about having sex with a chick who works at a laundromat. But what exactly is happening? Then Eminem comes to the rescue and tells you what's going on.

Turns out the chick who works in the laundromat is married to or maybe just dating Eminem and she's been fucking a lot of dudes in the laundromat. And while fucking these dudes in the laundromat she's managed to give Eminem HIV (actually it's full blown AIDS). Which fucking sucks and Eminem is not pleased.  In fact he mentions his intent to "bend her fucking neck back, yo" which sounds really violent. I'm not sure exactly what bending someone's neck back entails, but my guess is it hurts them and might result in paralysis or death. And that's the song. It ends after some brief exchanges between Obie and Eminem that discuss bitches, getting paid and their record label. 

The thing that really amuses me is that Eminem inadvertently ends up producing a song that serves as a public service announcement. I get the feeling he wrote this song from a place of anger. He was probably really upset at some bitch somewhere and wrote this piece and his thought process was probably something like "that bitch is a total whore and now everyone knows." But the listener's reaction is going to be "I better wear a condom when I have sex with that chick at the cleaners" and also "that bitch is a total whore." Which I think is nice. A lot of Eminem's critics have come after him because they know their kids are listening to his message, maybe if they knew he was writing anthems to safe sex they'd reconsider.

This blog post brought to you by 2002 when the song "Drip" was released. 

Love,

Joe

Day Eight

Dear Universal Technical Institute,

UTI already stands for something and it's not Universal Technical Institute. 

Need a hint? It stands for Urinary Tract Infection and it's gross.

Love,

Joe

Day Seven

Dear Forced Internet Diary,

Today I played golf and drafted a fantasy football team. It's also labor day so I'm taking a break. Even God rested on the seventh day and he doesn't even exist.

Here is who I got for my fantasy team:

Phillip Rivers

Steve Slaton

Chris Johnson

Santonio Holmes

Desean Jackson

Donald Driver

Ryan Grant

Felix Jones

LenDale White

Kevin Walter

Shonn Greene

LeSean McCoy

Matthew Stafford

Chris Chambers

Nate Kaeding

Green Bay's Defense

Pretty great, right?!?!

I knew you'd be excited.

I better get some rest tonight. I have to address some school children tomorrow.

Joe

Day Six

Dear Forced Internet Diary,

Steve is at my house right now. He drank "20 beers" last night and says his insides don't feel right. Also, he's spent a large portion of the afternoon trying to convince me to be a racist. 

He's not being super obvious and suggesting that we outright discriminate against people, but he is dropping subtle hints. He has suggested that we become huge fans of the University of Mississippi (Ole Miss). He has suggested that we purchase confederate flags and he's also suggested that we learn the lyrics to 'Dixie.' 

I don't know what exactly convinced Steve to change his lifestyle so drastically, but I have a feeling it is something in the beers he drinks. Steve is the first person I ever met in my life that is a fan of cheap beer. And he doesn't like cheap beer for monetary reasons. He likes Bud Light more than he likes "premium" beers and it's because he likes the taste more. This is the trait that he seems to have in common with real racists, so I'm guessing this is what's leading to his desire to build a racist lifestyle from the ground up.

I'm worried about Steve. I don't want him to be a racist. And I certainly don't want him to convince me to be one. I guess I'll have to substitute a different kind of beer in his fridge.

Joe

PS - I think that my weekend posts on this thing are going to be weak. Hopefully I can do better Monday through Friday. 

Day Five

I should really just skip a day now and get this over with. It'd be much better to forget to blog now then on September 29th. In the meantime...

Dear Forced Internet Diary,

Today is college football day. I've had the T.V. on for about 7 hours and even watched football while at a rehearsal for the show I'm working on. Basically, I've devoted the entire day to watching football teams that I don't care about and being a layabout. I don't generally have a problem with spending a day like this but sometimes the human ability to completely waste time is shocking. 

I could've easily picked one game I wanted to watch today and spent the rest of the day at Ikea or thinking up blog topics or something productive. (Although, Ikea does not make for a productive day, it makes for a miserable day filled with people and lines and headaches that don't go away until you sleep). Instead of choosing one game, I chose all games. I've seen parts of approximately 12 football games today and I bet you that in one week I'll only be able to name significant details about maybe one of those games. All other information will have passed out of my mind. That's what truly locks this day in as a wasted day. 

I could lament the loss of this day, or even turn off the TV (SDSU vs UCLA, who gives a shit, right?) and do something worthwhile, but the truth is, it's been a beautiful day. A day spent like this is simultaneously depressing and uplifting. There is a deeper lingering sense that I'm a loser, but on top of this is this incredible level of relaxation that can only be achieved by totally letting go of a day. Trying to care about nothing for an entire 24 hour period is harder than it looks and when you pull it off you really feel like you've achieved something.

Sigh, I really should come up with blog topics, I'd like to get away from just opening a page and writing the first thing that comes to my mind.

Any suggestions? 

Day Four

Dilemma:

Right now The Green Mile is on T.V. Also, Young Frankenstein is on T.V. I'm going to dinner in a little over an hour, but in the meantime I have to make a decision. Shall I watch Tom Hanks use a terrible accent in a surprisingly good movie? Or should I spend my time watching one of the greatest comedies ever made? These are the types of things that have become important since I was laid off. 

If I was still a working man, I wouldn't be watching anything. I'd be at work. Literally, right now, I would be working. Then I'd go straight to dinner and be exhausted the whole time. Then I'd go to bed.

In my new life, once I have dinner plans and have finished my checklist for the day I can just watch a movie on TV and hang out until dinner. At dinner I won't be exhausted. I'll be fun. 

Let me tell you something. My new life rules. Now I just need a job.

Day Three

Dear Forced Internet Diary,

Today I found out what "juggalos" are. Juggalos are fans of the band Insane Clown Posse and apparently they're also fans of other bands on their label. I guess that Juggalos are Psycopathic Record's response to Parrotheads (Jimmy Buffett), Dead Heads (Grateful Dead) and Losers (Dave Matthews Band - HEY-O!). 

Anyways, every year the juggalos gather at a juggalo festival to celebrate their juggalistic nature. At this festival they specialize in drinking Faygo (a cheap soda) and putting clown make up on. And based on the pictures I've seen from the festival I'm guessing that a fair amount of fights break out too. 

At first glance the photos are hilarious, but I honestly don't have the heart to spend any time mocking the juggers. Because the truth is, I think that it's awesome that there are enough people in the world to make holding an outdoor festival entirely devoted to this lifestyle (which, don't forget, a large part of involves drinking Faygo), worthwhile. It's really odd and unique that these kids/adults have somewhere to go where everyone else likes this type of music and likes wearing clown make up and likes being slightly overweight (and probably likes fighting).  

The truth is there aren't outdoor festivals for what I like to do - nowhere on Earth can you find a place where comedy and sports are celebrated in the same forum in a four day outdoor festival at which I can gather with a bunch of people and drink Shiner Bock or Dr. Pepper and talk about beards. It just doesn't exist. God bless the juggalos for being so specific, yet finding so many kindred spirits. They really are the American Dream (I mean that) and we should celebrate what they've achieved. 

Love,

Joe

Day Two

I'm one day closer to thirty and have a potentially huge meeting tomorrow, but I'm taking time out from my preparations to post rambling writings on a webpage. I guess when you consider priorities, not getting kicked in the balls outweighs pretty much everything. Although, my day spent poolside forced the idea of blogging to the back seat, temporarily. 

I think the hardest part of this challenge will be figuring out what to write about. ... (Bear with me, I know writing about writing is not an interesting subject)  .... "Blog topics" don't just naturally pop into my head, although I imagine with some practice they will. Until that process gets a little easier I imagine I'll begin most of these posts talking about "not getting kicked in the balls" or "what the fuck am I going to blog about."  Which is going to make for a dreadfully bad blog. 

There are other equally boring starting topics, which include "what I ate today" "what I dreamt about last night" or "things on my desk." (1- Pizza, 2- don't remember, 3- a pizza box ). But I hope to never have to resort to writing an entire post about the really cheap pizza place down the street from my apartment at which I eat approximately twice a week and whose boxes generally end up stacked in my kitchen waiting for me to take the trash out.  And I hope to not once ever, even as a joke, mention a dream I had. I generally agree with the philosophy that hearing about dreams is boring, but also think that hearing people talk about how boring dreams are is quite possibly more boring. 

So, I guess I'll have to look for inspiration some other way. Perhaps I'll write about my bodily functions, it might be the easiest way to get a joke or two in, I'm certainly not going to write about politics. I guess I could write about what it feels like to be turning 30, but the honest truth is I've felt 30 for about six months. Once you're standing in a bar complaining that the music is too loud and yawning at 11pm you realize that you may as well round up, because your body is already there. 

So I continue my march of 30 days which I'm now relating to my march to old  age. Until tomorrow, when I tell  you all about Cheech's pizza down the street. And the magical unicorns that fill my mind at night.

I love you. 

Day One

I suppose it's only right to begin by explaining the challenge....

A long time ago my good friend Scott introduced a game to me while we were living across the hall from each other in college. The rules of the game are simple: each participant gives every other participant a challenge that he must complete by the challenger's birthday. The parameters for the challenges are simple, they must not cause harm to the challenged, and they must, in theory, be a good exercise for the challenged. The idea being, that you're pushing a friend to do something that they already should be doing, but are unable to do because a)they don't have the same perspective on their life that you do and don't realize what a help it would be to complete the challenge, or b)they're being a huge vag about doing something they know they should be doing. This all makes sense, it's a way for friends to help each other out and it's a way for guys to give their male friends some advice without coming off like they care too much. The catch to this game is that the price for failing to meet a challenge is high. If you fail your challenge, the person who issued it will be allowed to kick you once (and only once) in the balls. 

The potential for challenges is fascinating and in the history of the game (some of it without my involvement) challenges have ranged from "running three times a week" to "be a vegan for a year." To my knowledge only once did someone fail to meet their challenge (it was me - I forgot to go for a run on the very last day of my "run three times a week" challenge). For those who are curious as to the health of my balls, my challenger was lenient and gave me a pass (I'll be honest, I lost a lot of respect for him that day). The game has been dormant for some time now until recently, when I decided to revive it in order to push a friend who I think needed a gentle shove in the direction of betterment. What I failed to consider is that in reviving a game that we'd forgotten about since college I'd opened myself up to having to complete some awful task.

Scott, is a genius however, and did not miss the opportunity to demand that I start a blog and write a new post for every day in September - 30 posts for my 3o birthday, which arrives October 1st. So I'll  set out to post something here for each day of this month. And if my history of the "Kicked in the Balls" game holds up, I'll forget to post something on September 30th and Scott will not forget to kick me in the balls. I imagine that even though we've aged significantly since our time in college Scott would relish the opportunity to give me a swift kick in the gonads. 

I suppose this is good for me - although I can't say it will be good for anybody who happens to be reading. I wonder if Scott will allow me to post twice in a day and count it as two days,  I should probably clarify for the sake of my gennies...Until September 2nd, I remain humbly yours with my balls intact.