Why do you DO that to yourself? (a rant about the age old question)

Why do you DO that to yourself? (a rant about the age old question)

I would like to start by stating that there is good crazy and there is bad crazy. Normalcy is an illusion. It’s also relative. There’s a thing that says “…blah blah blah…normal…blah blah…because what’s ‘normal’ for the spider is chaos for the fly.” Essentially it’s a proverb that says that “normalcy” is relative/subjective…

Am I already repeating myself? Shoot, prolly… I said it, I’ll say it again (and, you know, probably again) there is GOOD crazy and there is BAD crazy.


GOOD crazy will accidentally make eye contact with another driver sitting at a red light while belting out its favorite song and CONTINUE looking that person in the eye until the light turns green, regardless of the seething awkwardness that both parties feel.

There’s no such thing as an awkward situation, only awkward people. (I’m will reiterate that MANY times. Keep a tally. Cuz it’s true).

BAD crazy has the potential to be scary. Bad crazy will break into your apartment and take pictures of your empty bed, then TEXT the pictures in question to you wondering where you are and why you didn’t come home last night. Don’t ask me how I know this…ok ok ok, it happened to a friend of mine. BAD crazy will ALSO receive said texts, show me, get really scared…then decide that the only way to remedy the situation is to go to Disneyland with the person who broke into their apartment.

Good. Great. Fine. No, yeah, I’ll just go fuck myself.

Oh yeah, whatever you do, DO NOT use this post as a slide for your powerpoint presentation at work, as it is Not Safe For a Work environment. (NSFW)

“Why do you fuckin’ do that to yourself?” I’ve asked many times.

(By the way this rant was inspired by my insanely pretty roommate…I probably should’ve delivered that a little more tactfully. Only an IDIOT would admit something like that to everyone within the realm of the interwebs)…

Oh, wait.

Welp, can’t unsay it (I can, in fact, choose to go back and push the little ‘delete’ key until the words disappear) I CHOOSE NOT TO…HA! Anyways, if you’re reading, and you know who you are, cuz our other roommate is a dude, and I’m just not into dudes…

you’re pretty…there, sorry about not being sorry…moving on.

And I have had explicit permission from said pretty roommate that I may rant about the dealings in her life. So here’s to her and the awesome craziness that is so applicable to EVERYONE WHO WAS EVER INVOLVED WITH A CRAZY PERSON…EVER.

*re-composing hair slick* …almost lost my cool there.

One of the things that my pretty roommate tells me (well, told me. She no longer talks to the dude from my understanding) is that she’s got (had) this thing with this dude where they’ve kinda dated but not really (which means, essentially, that they’ve seen each other naked but not done too much else about it. I’ve been there. I get it.) on and off for two (count ’em, 2) years. (to my understanding, of course. I’m probably about 87% wrong regarding the accuracy of the details).

Either way, she continues to tell me how she’s bummed about how he’s not committing to her and how he’s seeing other girls as well as her but she doesn’t want that, and it’s getting to the point where she’s talking to him but he’s not responding. She then says [and I would LOVE to reiterate that she has given me her permission] “Yeah, he kinda pushes me to the point where I get a little crazy.”

And that’s ok, people do that to people. In fact, Britney Spears sang a song about it. If Britney said it, then it’s totally an actual thing. But why do you/would you/continue to…do that to yourself?

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard something like this either. I hear shit like this from most of my pretty friendgirls (as opposed to girlfriends cuz, well, I’m not gay), most of whom I’d so totally date the fuck out of, (wow, confession day today).

They tell me that they don’t understand why the guys they pick are losers/mean/hypocritical/psychopathic/manipulative/shitheads etc. (you know, mix ‘n match) and the only answer I can provide for them is:

“Well, because guys suck.” I would know. I’m a guy.

The only other form of advice I can give them (or anyone) is that you gotta find someone whose suckery is, well, somewhat endearing. To find someone who you can come up to at any given time and genuinely say “honey, it’s kinda cute when you do (thing) but it drives me nuts sometimes,” and their answer would/could/should go something like “Of course, babe, I didn’t even realize it.” And you communicate, and everyone is happy in their own crazy world of lunacy.

I’m tired of hearing about guys or girls being around guys or girls and saying OUT LOUD “I don’t know why I put up with it…”


Don’t put up with it. Choose (as I have chosen to bare my soul on this fateful Wed-nes-day) not to put up with it. You need neither that NEGATIVITY nor that SHIT in your life. And if you feel you are, as Steph Myer once said “hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with…(blahgadyblahgadyfucknblah)” [did I just reference fuckin’ Twilight?] then, I would advise you, strongly, and professionally and in any, way, shape, or form to step away from the situation. Life is too full of unforeseen and sometimes cripplingly stressful events to WILLINGLY PUT YOURSELF into a situation of that negative variety.

The ability to step away, no matter how difficult, speaks a magnitude about someone’s self-confidence. Which is one of very few things you are ALLOWED to have in this life.

So be confident [Atreyu] don’t put up with the shit that drives you to bad crazy.

Bad crazy stalks people. Bad crazy is the naked tweaker running against on-coming traffic waving a massive, wobbly, neon-green, double-sided dildo above his head, valiantly demanding a trial-by-combat to each Prius as it hums passed him at 73 miles per gallon.

Try to un-see that.

Be good crazy. Good crazy drives down to San Diego from Simi Valley just for a burrito. Good crazy is loud at all the right times. Good crazy kisses EVERYONE. Good crazy will accept you for exactly who you are, know why? Cuz we’re all mad here (reference mic-drop).

*POP…feedback, people upset, baby crying, security called, yelled at by the sound guy for dropping his equipment*


As always, if you wanna talk about things or just bitch at me for being wrong, leave me a comment…then, you know, subscribe anyway cuz deep down you like what I have to say about shit.

Cheers, beautiful people,



Religion n’ Stuff (Not that it needs to be said but I feel like I need to say something)

Religion n’ Stuff (Not that it needs to be said but I feel like I need to say something)

The gap between Saturday and Monday is WAY shorter than a day. It’s like, I dunno, relative I guess.

That’s a time joke.

Or a Doctor Who joke, I’m not entirely sure. Either way, Monday, no matter who you are, shows up too early.

I had a shower thought this Monday (LITERALLY I thought of this while taking a shower): “Good movies are usually, firstly, awesome books written by awesome geeks. Whereas Bad Movies that were good books are usually bad because some Hollywood putz fucked it up.”

Oh yeah, this post will not be safe to read in a work environment. Repeat: NSFW

Examples of the aforementioned: Stardust by Neil Gaiman, The Martian by Andy Weir (AWESOME movies that were first AWESOME books) The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien (AWESOME book…Movie? kinda blows) and I think this phenomenon has to do with how much of the original story was tweaked to fit it into the Hollywood archetype. I dunno. I’m just bitchin’ about stuff.


None of what I just bitched about is relevant to what I mainly wanted to bitch about this fine Monday. Religious things. As Easter (A historically pagan holiday turned Christian) was yesterday I felt this topic was appropriate. I might only bring it up once, so pay attention. Or, like, stop reading, I don’t give a fuck.


But I love you anyway.

I will state, for the record, may it forever be ingrained within the archives of the interwebs that I am a Christian Guy.

WAIT, wait wait wait, sit yo ass back down, I’m not done! AND DON’T FUCKIN’ ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME, you read this far and I gave you fair warning, dammit.

Now, there are a LOT of Christians out there in the world that would be very upset with me for stating that I’m a Christian and then typing the derogatory phrase telling all my imaginary friends to sit their asses back down. See that’s because just like ANY AND FUNDAMENTAL form of religion (Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Taoist, Wiccan…Pastafarian) the dedicated practitioners of their given religion tend to be a liiiittle uptight. K maybe in some cases, like, a LOTTLE.

We could go into the details about each religion and their beliefs and how they should be practiced and who cares about it and how the fire pokemon are more effective against the grass/earth pokemon but are weaker against water pokemon because well…duh (PLEASE understand that reference) but the truth is THAT book has 1) already been written 2) already been written again and 3) will not stop being talked about amongst people who care passionately about that sort of thing.

I’m not gonna get into that. Instead Imma tell you my thoughts; they’re short ready? pay attention cuz I might only say it once:

  1. Religion and religious beliefs are subjective, they should be between you and the power you believe in.
  2. It doesn’t matter what you believe, a decent human being is a decent human being and likewise for whatever the opposite of that ideal is. DON”T BE FUCKIN SHITTY TO EACH OTHER. I DON”T CARE WHO YOU PRAY TO OR DON”T PRAY TO.
  3. A given person should not try to force his or her beliefs onto anyone without their consent. Nor should that person judge another for anyone’s difference in or lack of beliefs.

There are subtexts but for the sake of keeping it bare and essential. That’s pretty much what it comes down to.

I’m a Christian because I’ve chosen to believe what I believe and I cannot think of any other way to describe it. I believe in an Ultimate Power, we’ll call it God, that created everything. I believe in Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus Christ, same dude. As far as I know and considering what HISTORY ACTUALLY says, he was the man. At the very, barest, least (I dunno if that’s correct but I’m stickin’ with it) in the very MINIMALIST sense; Jesus was a bat-shit crazy homeless, Jewish, dude living in the Middle East (meaning his skin was dark to some degree, because a white dude would not last long in that sun. Trust me. I know.) who preached and taught about love, kindness, forgiveness, and all manner of good things within the moral realm. At the VERY MOST Jesus was GOD in human form. Both forms (the human that called himself Jesus) were brutally scourged and crucified. No matter what you believe, there was a dude, who was all that who died a gruesome death for the sake of humanity. I can dig that.

[“Wait…but there’s this and this and this and blah blah blah this says…”]

SHUT THE FUCK UP. We can talk about it later. Actually no, we don’t have to because I’m not here to discuss my personal religion I’m here to tell you what I believe and what I believe is COMPLETELY SUBJECTIVE TO ME. And, you know, I kinda almost don’t care what you believe in. If you’re an awesome person, and ANYONE and EVERYONE can be an awesome person, I can tell we’ll get along just fine.

I could go on. I choose not to. There’s enough literature to answer your questions. But if you feel so inclined, ask me in the comments section and we’ll taco ’bout it. Hashtag winkyface.

There’ll be more sexy stuff in the next one I promise.

Cheers beautiful people,







C’mon, man. (a rant about online dating from a straight guy. One of many I’m sure)

C’mon, man. (a rant about online dating from a straight guy. One of many I’m sure)

So Imma stick to posting on Mundaiz (Mondays), Wed-nez-daez (Wednesdays [show me someone who doesn’t sound it out when they’re typing]) and Saterdayz (Saturdays). Because consistency is key. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the third rule of the major five.

It goes 1)Safety First 2) then Teamwork 3) Consistency 4) Communication 5) & Consideration…don’t ask, I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.

and communication is the key to any good relationship so if none of those days work for you…suck it up and read it another time, it’s not going anywhere.

THAT being said, I would like to give my very first forewarning to the beautiful people reading these words. This post is Not Safe For Work ([NSFW for the computer layman] almost none of them will be). There will be language in the genuine-ist of forms. If I offend you, I’m sorry…no, I’m not. Bueno. *Deep Breath*

Holy FUCKING shit.

Goodness FUCKING Gracious

Jiminey FUCKING Christmas

or (for all my atheists out there) Jesus FUCKING Christ (& being raised a Christian, it still stung my fingers to type it…huh)

Gentlemen. boys. boys. boys. Come. On. Man, We’re so much better than this (are we?). Yes, yes we fuckin’ are…

…now you’re supposed to ask “but wait…what?” *sigh* Lemme lay it down for ya.

We as the Millennial generation have been hashtag blessed with the wonderful apparatus known as the internet (there’s a joke in there about great power needing great responsibility…fukt THAT up). With this platform, the very primal, still daunting, activity of DATING has been made much EASIER. One does not even have to venture from one’s double bed to enter into the “dating scene.” The internet has its own dating spectrum to optimize convenience and opportunity, both of which it does SPECTACULARLY. I’m not going to get into the details but I’m fairly positive that there are hundreds of sites that are dedicated to finding each specific dating niche and making it easier for the people that identify themselves in that niche to meet each other and indulge in…well, one another I guess.

And Gentlemen, my fellow straight guys, we’re failing…to some…mythologically EPIC degree.

I cannot speak for the other sexualities and genders other than mine, but from what I’ve witnessed and what I’ve heard about the conquests of straight guys attempting (barely) to woo the straight women of the world through the interwebs has been less than admirable. Cringe-worthy is the term.

Now, I am not trying to bag on anyone’s “game.” I’m not saying pick-up lines don’t work. Too many times have I heard “blahblahblah…I knew it was a line. We’re going out on Saturday.” Whatever. The men (I use THAT word lightly) to whom I am pointing the proverbial finger are those whose attempts at verbal seduction chip away at my faith in my side of the species.

Just wait, I have examples.

I was a Tinderer…then I deleted the app…theeeen  I downloaded it again…then I got discouraged (left swipe)…theeeen I got lonely (right swipe) and I’ve been on it ever since. [I won’t say how UNCANNILY similar that sequence is to a few high school ‘couples’  I had the privilege of knowing] Point is, I Tinder. I won’t lie, I enjoy it. And I’ve met a couple very nice ladies who have given me the pleasure of their company (unintentional horn-toot).

A friend of mine who is, in fact, a pretty girl, also indulges in the occasional Tinder escapade. I’m not saying that men’s online dating exploits are easier or more difficult than women’s, but there is one aspect where we as men are failing .

The first message.

Just to get it outta the way, I LOVE it when a girl messages me first. I think it shows that she’s a strong independent woman who don’t need no man…or whatever. Anyways, it’s usually not creepy either, I LOVE it. Shit, I’ll even respond if it’s just “hello” as boring as that may be, it still shows initiative and I like that.

In the Tinder corner of the interwebs it is customary (I guess) for the man to send the first message. Which is completely understandable. Sending the first message to a girl that I’ve matched with would, among other things, show the ability to take the reins. On a very primal level, that’s attractive to women (tha fuck do I know?).

Here’s where we (men) are wrong.

My pretty friend who I told you about matched with this dude the other day, and wouldn’t you know it, the guy had the stones to message her first. His message is word-for-word as follows:

“Hey what’s up? You’re really hot. Not gonna lie, I would love to have sex with you.”


My VERY first thought upon reading this poor attempt at seduction was “Oh, at least he used the proper form of ‘you’re’

But this, my friends, is the ‘R’ rated equivalent of “Hello.”

C’mon man. Let’s break it down, shall we?

“Hey what’s up”: Probably my LEAST favorite phrase in the English phrase book. It’s a greeting, fine. But where do you go after that?…you know what it is? It’s small talk. It means nothing. It’s something you can say to someone where only the worst people would give you a response. I would not want to talk to those people. If someone asks me “Hey what’s up” with the intention of starting a conversation my answer is “No, ask me something else.” Next.

“You’re really hot”: Proper ‘you’re’ form for the win! but…uh…duh. If you didn’t already think that you wouldn’t’ve swiped right. UNLESS (and I’m unfortunately guilty of this too, it was a dark time) you’re participating in a ‘speed round’ where you swipe right no matter who it is until your likes run out. This dude lucked out either way. Still too obvious of a statement. To his credit, again (silver lining, amirite?) he didn’t just stop there. Some unfortunate souls have been known to spout “your hott” and expect an answer from that grammatically incorrect pile of douchebaggery. Let’s finish this.

“I would love to have sex with you.” uh……DUH…fucking DUH. You’re male, she’s female. Your genetically predisposed conglomeration of cells sends a message to your brain that ultimately translates to “PRESERVE THE SPECIES.” And how do humans do that?

The Stork.

But the Stork only comes if you have awesome sex. To my knowledge anyway. There’s a lot of paperwork that needs to be signed, address changes, you have to make an appointment MONTHS in advance. It’s a whole thing….

I get it. I get it. To my friend’s credit she very tactfully provided an answer to the effect of “a lot of people do.” To which he replied “Yeah but they can’t fuck you like I can.”

Nice, bro. *slow clap* totally awesome. Don’t you have Health 201 homework to finish?

Because only some asshole with pubescent-high-school-grade brain waves would be STOOPID enough to think THAT LINE would actually work. Maybe, just maybe, if you take her out, show interest in her as a person and not just some…ugghh we’ll get into that later…QUIT BEING A FUCKIN’ DOUCHE. *smack*

It bums me out to think that my cohorts on this side of the species have the potential to be so utterly selfish. Then again, the more I think about the situation, the more I’m impressed by my friends cool, sophisticated responses in the face of such douchebaggery, the more I get to thinking “well, there’ve gotta be more girls like that out there who don’t put up with bullshit.”

And I guess if there are, and they’re denying the “hey-what’s-uppers” of the world. That leaves a lot of openings for the other guys. The guys who will ask you if you like coffee or tea, or if you prefer the book or the movie or how much money does it take for you to get on stage and sing “Love Shack” at karaoke together. If the universe is fair, and it is sometimes, they’ll both re-download the Tinder app.

And maybe, just maybe, they’ll both swipe right.

Cheers, beautiful people.


Enter The Offended Straight White Guy (An ode to the Urban Warrior Poet)

Enter The Offended Straight White Guy (An ode to the Urban Warrior Poet)

As I research the title ‘Warrior Poet,’ I find nothing.

To be expected. Most of the internet doesn’t give a shit about stuff that could be referenced to help things make more sense for this Millennial age that we live in. But by urban dictionary definition…

(I scroll passed the “Become an Uber driver” advertisement from which the website actually makes its money.).

…'”Warrior Poet” is a term that was coined at the end of the movie “Braveheart”‘ (excellent film) and it means…no, I’m going to stop right there. Because the phrase wasn’t “coined at the end of Braveheart,” it’s been around for good a while and the definition of a Warrior Poet is much deeper than the half-assed crap written by some frat bro who took a Gen. Ed. Lit. class one time, squeaked by with a “C,” and needed something to define his intramural flag-football program. I’ll let you search it yourself.

It’s not a terrible definition, but it magnifies the superficiality of my Millennial generation. (O Discordia! how I’ve come to despise that word Millennial).

The thing about the Urban Dictionary is that ANYONE can create ANYTHING within the realm of literature. Most of it is shit that was written by a someone thinking the exact same thing that I think to myself on the daily, “Fuck, I can write this.” Sometimes they (I) can. Sometimes they (I) do.

But sometimes, sometimes, sometimes (and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow) someone gets it right and what they create is beautiful. AND THAT is the definition of a Warrior Poet; continuing on in the face of insurmountable odds. Victory and Defeat are relative and subjective. The only thing that matters is the attitude you keep and the decisions you make.

I’ve made my decision.

I will continue to write and express and create but I will do so on different terms. The title of this platform is supposed to be ironic (sure, you can blame the hipsters) because as a heterosexual, white male in our world as it stands, there isn’t a lot to complain about. Of course, there are those who find things to complain about (hashtag first world problems) but we can discuss those on a separate occasion. For now, I will provide you with the necessary legal disclaimer regarding the shtuff (I know what I said) that will be added on to this little slice of internet paradise.

This page will include, but is certainly not limited to writing/rants/musings about: sexuality, the media, politics, grocery shopping, wearing kilts, over-use of the words “literally” and “sorry” things that happen to me in my life. Things I write that are not a part of this “theme” I’ve sanctioned for this platform, (un)intentional lack of punctuation, profanity, sexy stuff, proper use of the word “fuck” and its variants, stupid grammatical errors, intentionally misspelling words for comic effect, why I STILL can’t understand the difference between Affect and Effect, inspirational things, lamentational things, things that should be talked about with strangers in a dive bar, things that most definitely SHOULD NOT be talked about with strangers in a dive bar, the power of karaoke, the deliciousness of whole milk, the illuminati, how much coffee is too much coffee, dating apps, dating sites, dating and how much it sucks, people and how much THEY suck (myself included), people and how AWESOME they can be, optimism, pessimism, not-ruffling-any-feathers..uh..ism. RUFFLING EVERYONE”S FEATHERSSISM…HOW WHEN I TYPE IN CAPITALS I”M YELLING IN MY HEAD…how sometimes we all just need to tone it down a notch or two…or three, tattoos, lycanthropy…

and the things and stuff in between, around and orbiting any and all ideas within the realm of the labyrinth of the human mind.

Proclaiming oneself a Warrior Poet should not be done. It is a title that should be given…like a nickname…only some nicknames suck. Being a Warrior Poet does not suck. I’ve decided you may proclaim me as such, but only if I am worthy.

I will finish by warning all of my readers, continuous and potential, that things will get gritty. You may not like what I say, and that’s OK, no one said you had to, but I’m going to write it anyway, and if I’ve ruffled your feathers…well, if I’ve done that much then I suppose I’ve done my job. I’ll sit in my favorite coffee shop and wait for the men in black (another great film) to take me away.

Cheers, beautiful people,