Saturday, June 30, 2012

The "Hills" of Europa... Have Eyes!!

In an effort to get back in shape, I've been jogging in the vast Europan forest every other day. Their forests are like their people: boring and homogenous at first glance. Practically every tree is the same bland species of beach tree.

And beach trees all look the same big and straight with hardly no branches till the very top. But it's specifically because it's so boring that you are forced to appreciate the little things that take on meaning because of their subtle uniqueness.

 *Yawn* Hello?? Where are your geysers? Huge canyons? Waterfalls?      
Rocks shaped like presidents? Must America kick your ass at everything?? 
For example, I once saw a duck wondering amongst the trees. What's so special about a duck you ask? Nothing. There are tons of ducks out here, but you will never catch one alone, especially in the middle of the forest. Ducks don't mind people when they have power in numbers; but this one was lost or something and clearly out of his element. My presence made him very nervous as he waddled away in a hurry.

Another time I saw a squirrel con ganas. He was chillin in the middle of the path I was jogging on - and continued to chill there even when I ran past. It tripped me out since squirrels usually run away as soon as you get close. I stopped to look at him as he was unabashedly nibbling away at an acorn until I broke out the cell phone camera. Once I started recording him, he ran away! Little bugger was camera shy!

So anyways my Dutch cousin told me to watch out for escaped mental patients when I go jogging because he said there is an insane asylum near the area I go to. But I knew he's full of shit, because I've been down almost every pathway and never seen any buildings in the forest other than a handful of mini farms and small cottages.

However one day, when the sun was shining and I was finally able to throw on some shorts to go jogging, I ran down a new path where I saw what appeared to be a road that lead to nowhere. It tripped me out because I knew that going westbound on this road would eventually take you to the freeway, but eastbound wouldn't go anywhere. I had been east of that road; there are no roads on that side. Where the hell did this random street lead to?

 What is it with Europans and red and white stripes? Do they really think that will keep people back?
They didn't account on American ingenuity!!  ...of not being stopped by red and white stripes o.0

Naturally, curiosity got the better of me and I headed eastbound down this road to see where it went. It took forever as it ran endlessly into the forest. I was busy trying to think of where it might lead to but all the surrounding landscape I knew told me it must dead-end somewhere.

In my experience following abandoned roads in the forest has never lead to good things. So I figured I was due for some good luck =p 

After getting nowhere, I was about to quit and head back from where I came when suddenly, out of the wilderness emerged a huge brick building. Curiosity forced me to read the sign. It was the insane asylum! As always, the nerd turned out to be right. I need to learn to stop betting against them... with my life.   

I was quite bemused; maybe I'd get to see a guy who eats people tied up in a straight jacket or at least see some guy who thinks he's a dog. But as I got closer I noticed something kind of disturbing: the inmates were allowed to roam the grounds. They weren't restrained at all; they were free-range nuts! Damn Europans and their obsession with ecofriendly practices!!

I was leery, and kept a close eye on these wackos as they smoked cigarettes and babbled incoherently amongst themselves. Seems they formed some sort of babble language, but I don't know what it sounds like as I wasn't about to get close enough to actually hear it. I imagine they said something along the lines of "How did he get past the bar painted red and white? Maybe he's color blind."

They all watched me, as I watched them. They're probably not used to outsiders. Right about this time I had about enough of playing 'look at the crazies' and I decided I was going to bail once I was out of their sight. So I headed for the back of the building to escape unnoticed out the back way. But to my horror I realized that they had a fence all the way around the perimeter and the only way out was back through the entrance from which I came in. This was going to be awkward, borderline dangerous; but I could handle it. 

I got to the very back of the building said my standard, "this isn't where I parked my car!" and then U-turned to walk out of this creepy joint. But then, with the poor timing of a death-row pardon two minutes too late, a staff member in blue scrubs walked out of the asylum and headed straight for me. "Hey!" he yelled out.

"Dear God! He's going to feed me to the inmates!" I sprinted for the fence, and cleverly made use of the dumpster they had to hop over it. But now I found myself in the thick brush of untamed Europan wilderness. It didn't matter though. I ran through the tall brush and nettles, getting face-palmed by spiderwebs like a commando only without the training or athleticism. Nettles are no joke man. Sure the "needles" themselves are very small but they emit a poison that hurts like a motherfucker worse than slapping a cactus (also very painful; don't ask). What a day to wear shorts. At least they were cholo shorts so only my lower calves got poisoned up.

I ran like the wind jumping over logs and almost slipping in the mud a few times. But I had to put distance between me and them. Are the insane super fast runners, kind of how mentally challenged people have "retard strength"? I don't know. And I didn't want to find out. Finally I saw a familiar pathway through the trees. I knew it would eventually take me back to the lot where I parked my car. I had walked that pathway many a time. Little did I know that all those times I was only 300 yards from a nut house which was hidden by a vale of trees.

I busted through the brush onto the path with elation only to see an older couple who had gone for a stroll staring at me in bewilderment. "Play it cool, Brick," I thought to myself. "Wouldn't want these geezers to think you're an escaped mental patient and call the cops on your ass." I walked down the familiar path for the last time ever. It's not that I didn't like this pathway, it's just that now the crazies would know when I was around since they had smelled my blood with their heightened senses. After what felt like an eternity, I got back to my car and drove home. You'll never catch me alive you bastards!

I think we can all agree that an insane asylum is the last place Brick should be hanging around o.0

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

Monday, June 25, 2012

Tyson for President (Fuck Europa!)

One of my friends recently posted a video of Mike Tyson being interviewed by Ann Curry on her facebook (link below). Tyson was asked why he became a vegan at which point he went on a rant about how he was sick of sleeping with prostitutes.

You can almost feel the shock of all the whitebread snobs watching the Today show expecting to get diet tips and learn which plastic waterbottles contain the most toxins when they are hit with... some guy explaining why he became a vegan.

Because fuck your society.

I get it. He wanted to clean up his life in all aspects; that's how the whores were linked to the tofu, duh. Don't be mistaken Mike, no one was judging you for sleeping with hookers, but God forbid you should talk about it. But why? It's the truth isn't it? Doesn't matter. They just wanted some canned response about being environmentally conscious or some statistics about how beef consumption leads to certain health concerns. In other words, they wanted bull shit.Good ol' comfortable bull shit.

I've always liked Tyson 1) because he demolished opponents in the ring with his fast power punches 2) because the world hates him for being who he is despite knowing nothing about how he got there. Much as I wish I could relate to him for that first reason, I can only relate to him for the second.

All my life I was treated like I was an inconvenience, told to shut the fuck up and stop consuming air that was meant for better people; and I did. I guess I wasn't strong enough to find my voice in the sea of haters. But one day when I broke free from the Anchors, I started talking, and I liked it. And I discovered something I never thought would be the case: I was actually good at it.

I could spontaneously break out effective meaningful analogies mid-conversation as if I had stayed up all night thinking about what to say. I could twist the truth using verbal acrobatics to make my point of view seem like the only truth that ever existed. I could use poetic speech to turn a description of a mundane experience into a work of art. I amazed myself with this previously untapped talent, and used said talent to earn a good living in sales.

In my personal life, the words and thoughts that were previously kept below the surface now gained me attention and popularity... I was funny! I could entertain, me, an outcast running the show. Of course this did not apply to all people. Some people still hated me. I wasn't mainstream enough for them. They thought, "Why doesn't he dress like us?? Talk like us?? Believe what we believe??" It didn't matter though. My homies were there, they wanted to hear me talk, they wanted me to be part. It was all I needed.

Then I moved to Europa where I sit in silence with the whitebread in their collared shirts. A homogenous "Stepford" population, perfect sheep for a socialist economy, but a horrible environment for a man who has tasted and loves freedom. America is a place where there is a place for freaks like me. But now I must conform again.

I sit at the dinner table when the mom mentions she once came home to find her son's friend puking in the yard while the son was having a house party. That friend has been banned from the house. I wanted to mention the time I puked in my own car while driving a date back home. I had made fun of her because she puked in the parking lot after we got out of the club, but that Karma bitch got me good.

A funny story, right? A true story. An inappropriate story. Shut up, Brick, for you are... a Europan.

One of us! One of us! One of stylish, classy, mind-numbingly silent us!

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Ode to Seuss

As a kid I liked Dr Seuss; as an adult I now realize he was tripping acid.
So I wrote this little tribute to him:

Cid said sung
And Cid sing
Cid said many a thing
What did you do?
I did Cid
I did nothing
Cid did Cid
He did! He did!
"Don't listen to Cid"
"Cid is Dead"
Cid's not here
He's in your head!! ;)

                           Come on, tell me I'm wrong...

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Lumberjack Theory

One time my friend Danny and I got into an argument about brains versus brawn. The argument was sparked when I mentioned to him that a client of mine who was an engineer told me he felt that superstar basketball players are overpaid for an ultimately useless skill of putting a ball into a hoop whereas engineers, who are crucial to the progress of mankind, are under-paid and under-appreciated. I of course disagreed. He ended up writing a blog about it. This is my response blog...

 I was revenge typing like a mother fucker!

Friday, June 8, 2012

Rocky VII

The following was a script for a voiceover done with the “movie voice” that was going to be read for a skit I wrote for Studio B. It’s a fake movie commercial for the next Rocky movie:

Proving his movie career is un-dead, Sylvester Stallone makes a comeback in Rock VII! Rocky returns… from the graaave!

(Scenes of zombie Rocky crawling out of a grave)

“Adriaaaaaaaaaaaaan! Um, I mean, braaaaaaaaains!” (mumbles incoherently)

Watch as Rocky gets his box on with his old rival Apollo Creed… the werewolf!

(Scenes of zombie Rocky boxing werewolf Apollo Creed)

"You a look a lil stiff there, Rocky."

"Ay yo, I'm a zombie; what do you want from me?"

You’ll laugh! You’ll cry! You’ll wet your pants!

Rocky VII!! Ding, ding! The bell tolls for thee!

Check out this guy's Rocky impression:                                                                                  Not him! I mean the famous one!    

*Don't forget to check out my book!  


Texting is awesome. Unlike talking on the phone, it allows us to carry on conversations while doing other things - such as pogo-sticking in the bathtub. However, since it's a relatively new form of communication there are some unknown areas when it comes to protocol; and since my readers are classy and cultured, it is important we explore Textiquette.

One rule I think we can all agree on is that if you die while in the middle of a text conversation, you should let the other person know that you are dying so that they won't be surprised when you don't respond. Check out the example below:

Texter 1
"hey dude im having a party on saturday, wanna come?"

Texter 2
"sure! i love a good - oooohhh wait! im dying!"

Texter 1
"alright i'll take you off the guest list then"

See? Because Texter 2 followed proper protocol, Texter 1 can better plan his weekend. So be safe boys and girls and remember to practice good textiquette!

"So then I was like, lol"  

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Across the Pond (from the other side)

The other day I was bored and decided to take the eurostar under the ocean to get to Londontown =p When the train emerged from the ground on the other side I got all excited at the view. "OMG!!! I can't believe it!! A hill!! I remember those!!" At this point I should probably explain that Europa is as flat as Nebraska.

So I get out and walk around and see another thing I haven’t seen in a while: fat people; my chunky brethren. At first I was a bit confused because I know that Londoners walk and ride bikes a lot, but then I saw a McDonalds that answered my question. Not because it’s a fast food chain with unhealthy food but because right across the street from it was another freaking McDonalds!!! And I realized that London is culturally halfway between Europa and U.S.A.: charming and historical but also with more focus on being convenient and commercial.

It's funny; I was thinking about traveling the world. I could go to China and meet Buddhist monks; I could go to India and meet all the telemarketers named "Steve" from AT&T; I could go to Russia and meet the ill tempered Ruskies, or I could just go to London cause all those fuckers are there too!! Seriously that place is jam packed with foreigners. Ironic how England used to invade nations around the globe conquering indigenous tribes with tanks and bazookas and now they complain that too many foreigners live in their country. Payback’s a bitch! Isn’t it your majesty!!!

So after noticing foreigners, fat people, and a hill, I was hungry and decided to get me some of that world famous English food. (Quick! On the count of three name your favorite English-food restaurant, 1, 2, 3, Go! ...............nothing?? Aww. And, no, burger King doesn't count!!) As much as I complain about Europa I must admit they have damn fine cuisine. You pretty much can’t go wrong with any restaurant you step into because it’s always quality food. That's not the case in Londontown, you definitely got to know what to look for.

Now another thing I learned about this place is that only the super rich can drive cars. It costs eight "pounds" a day just to drive there not to mention the cost of "petrol" and insurance and licensing (those last two costing about 3000 pounds a year). But though you pretty much can’t drive if your poor, they have an intricate public transportation system to make up for it. Kind of like if your older brother likes your jeans and steals them from you but gives you barrel with straps so at least you’re not naked. Such is the beauty of complex and underhanded redistribution of wealth.

 This is where horror movies start...

I walked down to the "underground" to take a subway to St Paul's cathedral and it’s freaky as hell!!! First of all it’s very claustrophobic; you have to walk down a deep stair case and through narrow halls to get there. And while I understand that the "tube" or subway itself is somewhat cylindrical in shape and thus travels through cylinder pathways, I am a human!! Why are the halls that I walk through cylindrical?? Walls are supposed to have corners dammit!!

Then when you sit there waiting for the tube it’s eerie. It’s as quiet as if the zombie apocalypse had taken place and people were all but eliminated. But what’s worse than sitting down there by yourself is sitting there with one other person. You are sure he's a psychopath. And he’s sure that you are one and it’s just a question of who will be first to kill the other in self defense. Fortunately the tube always seems to pull up in time before I have to kill the psychopath.

To be fair it was a really fun time. Sure I could tell you about the beautiful sights, pubs, and watching a live rugby game, but I’d rather just rant about minor inconveniences =p

Check out the pic below: they painted which direction to look at when crossing the streets since the rest of the world drives on the right, and since the rest of the world lives in London. I can imagine getting run over in the street. They would say:

"Oh man! The American got hit by a car."

"What happened? Did he forget he was in London and looked the wrong way before crossing the street?"

"No, he looked the right way. It’s just that another American was driving the car and forgot to drive on the left so the one crossing the street didn’t see him coming."

 Death by irony: is there any other way?

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

Day 1 in Europa

They shipped me off to Europa. I wrote a lil something about my very first day there...

So I was sitting in the basement wide awake at 5:00 AM (thanks to jet-lag), sad because I didn’t have keys to the house nor Euros to buy food. Then I noticed a set of keys hanging on the wall and realized they were to the back door, and I remembered that visa is accepted round the world. Ha! They wanted me to starve in the basement but they didn’t count on my American ingenuity! So I put on me walking shoes (the only kind I have) and hit the streets.

It was weird to walk around. For starters even though I was in the city center it was dead as hell; I could count the number of cars that drove by on one hand. The stores were all crammed together in long rows and double stacked with apartments on top. Obviously they don’t have room for dumpsters in back like in California, and in fact they didn’t even have trash cans. They just piled trash bags on the side walk for garbage men to pick up. It was kind of gross actually.

The streets were very narrow and they painted all their stop light poles with red and white stripes. That way when you're walking and you see the bottom of a stop light pole you notice the stripes and you're like "oh snap! This is stop light!" and you look up, notice it's a red light, and it saves your life. Something to that effect I imagine.

A Europan, strip mall.. where's the Jamba Juice?? Where's the Hot Dog on a Stick?? They got this all wrong!

I saw three travel agencies before I reached the end of the first block. Makes sense to me: everybody wants to get the fuck out of here except for naive Americans who romanticize the shit out of all things foreign and my dumbass who should know better. I noticed from the shop windows that social class and style mattered very much here. I foresaw problems.

Just as I was steeped in foreignness I noticed a sign that read "Taco Systems." I couldn’t believe it! A taco stand in Europa! What an awesome way to quell my hunger. But as I got closer I realized it wasn’t a Mexican food shop, it was a computer store. Flagrant false advertizing! If I was in the states I would sue, but they don’t go for legitimate frivolous law suits in Europa. Go figure.

I still remembered where a fast food joint was located and headed in that direction. Then I found out fast food joints aren't open at 530. Nor are gas stations. And I guess they should put me in the history books as the guy who discovered a place where there aren’t any 7-11s.

I started to head back the way I came having remembered walking past a pastry shop that had a sign saying it opened at 6:00 AM. I walked in to find some europeanette with an attitude behind the counter.

"Do you guys have sandwiches?"

"Yeah," rolls her eyes as if I oughtta just know how shit works in any random mom and pop shop I walk into.

"Can I see a menu?"

"We don’t have one."

"So.... how am I supposed to know what you have?"

She starts listing all the sandwiches they have one by one. Seems to me there ought to have been a more efficient way to let their customers know what items they sold. Perhaps some sort of list of all the foods written on a piece of paper you can hold in your hand. Might be better than listing off everything you make, especially if you’re a jerk who doesn’t like talking to people.

I ordered a ham and cheese samish and headed to a little park to eat it. The park was littered with smashed glass bottles and empty beer cans and cigarette boxes. So much for the "green" stereotype we give Europans. Don’t believe everything you see on TV. In fact weren’t they the ones that practically killed off all our buffalo just to eat the tongues? Maybe I’ll skin one of their cats as revenge.

Then I sat back in my basement rocking the i-pod, writing this "note" wondering how to end it. I thought it best to end this crazy story with a cliffhanger.

Tune in next week to see if our hero survives!!

*Don't forget to check out my book!  

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