Monday, March 03, 2008

Wowzers!

The other day I received the following voice mail.

“Dallas, you uppity little bitch, this is your brother, I want to know how your god damn job is going, so you better call me when you get this fucking message. Also, update your blog, because it’s ridiculous you haven’t done anything with it since October 29th. Quite frankly, you should be shot in the head and watched die, by millions, on live TV.”

Now, some might say that he was being overly harsh, but I’m not one to rush to judgment. I thought, you know, Jay (that’s my brother) has updated his blog several times since my last update—Maybe I should see what he’s about, before I decide he’s a horse’s ass.

So I reread through several of his blogs, only to discover that yes, he is indeed a horse’s ass. To save you some time, I have summarized the most interesting points of his last several blogs:

1. He hates it when people waste quality glue that could be used for scrapbooking.

2. He’s watched the Godfather part III seven times, but bitches when other people waste a half an hour of his time.

3. He and I apparently once had a conversation about whether actors in softcore pornography are as unloved by their parents as actors in hardcore pornography. My guess is they are hated more, for going about their careers halfassed. Also, the fact this conversation took place is absolutely awesome.

4. He doesn’t think ass rape makes any sense.

5. He hates being yelled at by strangers in bad haircuts. How often could this possibly happen?

6. He assumes that if you use buses and trains as forms of transit, you have failed in your life. Then he bitches about American excess.

7. He thinks the joke about anesthesia isn’t ever funny. He is yet to hear the other, funnier joke about anesthesia.

8. He writes the term “errant cumshots” very casually, as if it is something he says every day.

9. He’s often wrong, very fucking wrong, when it comes to movies. The Green Mile is better than American Beauty? Fuck you, buddy. And sorry Jay, but There Will Be Blood was great. You can’t knock that movie when you actually liked Babel. In fact, you can’t have an opinion on anything when you say you like Babel. The only reason anyone likes Babel is because they are pretentious and simply want to anger reasonable people, who rightfully see that movie as smug bullshit. There Will Be Blood isn’t good—It is GREAT. It doesn’t meander, you just didn’t think hard enough (then again, you are a Michael Bay fan. You’re not really used to thinking).

10. He says he can shape shift into a bat. This makes him “think” he is a vampire.

11. He justifies his sloth by claiming it is preparation for when his soccer team’s plane crashes into the mountains.

Am I worried that Jay will be offended by any of this? No. His ego is great enough that he’ll be happy to read about himself. If anything, he’ll probably just be giggling at his own hilarity.

So anyway, he wanted a blog, here’s a blog. It certainly has been a long time since my last one, and yes, some things have changed—I graduated, I got a job, I lost 20 pounds, blah blah blah. Let’s get to the good stuff, what you really want to read about. That’s right—midget wrestling and chili cookoffs.

I almost saw midget wrestling in Des Moines a couple of weeks ago. I know, I know—how could I pass up such a great opportunity? Here’s how—it was never going to match my expectations for it. I mean, if I’m paying five American dollars to watch midgets wrestle, I expect one hell of a show. I expect the losers to be shot out of t-shirt cannons and taken home by lucky audience members, you know, things of that nature. I figured it probably wouldn’t happen that way, so I decided against going. I think I’m maturing. I’m willing to let my dreams of midget wrestling live instead of accepting a mediocre product. I bet my parents are proud.

As for the chili cookoff… Well, if you haven’t been to one, the time to do so is now. The one I attended was in some Podunk piece of crap Iowa town so small I don’t even remember the name of it, which is awesome in itself. The cookoff actually one several awards, all of which were made up and distributed by me.

The “Best Possible Thing Ever” Award goes to the men’s bathroom door of the bar in which the event was held. The lock was broken and there simply wasn’t a doorknob on the thing, so when I needed to pee I had to find somebody to hold the door shut for me, lest everyone see my dingle dangle.

The “Huh?” Award goes to my girlfriend, the beautiful and illustrious Jamie, who, believing our chili to be too hot, tried to carry the entire pot outside so she could put it in the snow. She still doesn’t understand why this makes no sense.

The “Funniest Possible Thing” Award goes to Jamie’s brother Brad, who decided to steal the first place trophy from the kindly old man who won it. I respect this decision. I mean, obviously us losing was bullshit. The method and strategy utilized to steal the trophy would’ve made James Bond proud. How did he steal the trophy? He grabbed it, ran out of the bar, fell on his ass in the snow, got back up, and put it in his car. Genius.

And finally, the “More Than Just Mildly Disturbing” Award goes to Jamie’s sister Jenna, who managed to make a chili that tasted exactly like licking the top of a piece of Hawaiian pizza. It wasn’t necessarily bad, it was just… off putting.

Also, I lost twenty pounds! I can see my penis again! Turns out it’s very small.