50 || Molested or Rejected?

Based on the headline, it's safe to say he also bullied local news reporters...until now.

Two girls with purple, blond, black and pink hair were talking extremely loud on the public bus system that's paid by students through their tuition. I wish I knew more of my university's economic practices and procedures, but my limit has been tapped. So these girls, and I say girls because being over 18 and no longer having a hymen does NOT make you a woman, are talking about some documentary or film about human intestines with ever increasing volume and are laughing as if they are the only passengers. You know when there are multiple people in one room and suddenly everyone starts speaking about one of the people as if they're not there? It was similar to that but louder, more abrasive and less forgivable.

Why am I bitching and moaning (You can't hear me, but I can assure you it's happening) about two annoying bitches who require so much attention their looks and actions must be obviously shrouded in emotional desparation around complete strangers? Because it leads directly to my new game or all to play in public: Molested or Rejected?

 Whether the girl rides any flesh stick within the surrounding zip code, thinks her squeaky, high-pitched baby voice is attractive or thinks she's god's gift to the world, Molested or Rejected helps you isolate the root of the issue. Either she was molested by a family member or close friend at a young age, or her parents hated her in every way or even went so far as to completely ignore her. Did the molestation cause her low self-esteem that resulted in her acting out for attention or did the rejection crush so much of her confidence she now surrounds herself around vapid "people" who are just as opinionless in hopes of creating a social coccoon to shield herself from the rest of the judgmental world? I don't know, but I can't wait to find out.

Oh, and for those of you wondering, the male version is Praised or Disdained? Is he an asshole because his mom would show him rose petals and potpourri after wiping his ass or because his father beat him to prove he was better, smarter and stronger in every way? Again, the answer is not what is important, rather the journey brought on by the question.

49 || The Missing Piece

Anyone want a free Millhouse? Me neither.

If time travel is ever invented and we find out how to go around the laws of physics as we know it and travel to the past, I would like to nominate the idea to go back before this century, to the precise moment the first pet owner called themselves a single parent and educate them on the difference between people and animals.

I'm saying we sit them down an explain that if you give away your cat, your family won't ostracize you. Also, if your cat goes missing and its found in a creek, Nancy Grace doesn't start broadcasting 16 hours a day spouting off ignorant nonsense about how if it wasn't for the mistreatment of cats in the media like Gummo. Social groups don't come together and demand for our representatives to pass Sophie's Law to make sure all felines are always protected and accounted for. Law enforcement doesn't put out a Snookums Alert and begin a statewide search for a kitty on the lam. It just doesn't happen.

I'll tell you what does: Buying another cat and watching as everyone moves on with their lives. If you lost your children and then popped out two new ones nine months later, your family and friends wouldn't just forget the other two and move on. You can't give them the same name and pretend like nothing happened. Not only is that allowed with cats, gerbils or any member of the Animalia kingdom, it's expected.

Besides, there's no way the pet swap sitcom episode where the babysitter or child lose the pet mouse and scramble to get to the nearest pet store to buy a replacement.  If you lose Nikki and Todd, you can't have the babysitter go to the black market to buy two similar children and tell them repeatedly that their names are also Nikki and Todd. What're you going to say, that their sleeping and eating habits are different because they reached the next level of developmental growth in the last 3 hours, and that they're so terrified by loud noises they soil themselves and have a stress cry every time someone raises their voice because the last person who had the TV on left the volume too high? On second thought, that may work...umm, I've gotta go, I have an appointment at my grocery store for fruit examination...

48 || Another new beginning

Please Stand By Me: The polite way to be near someone as the sky tumbles and falls

Hiatus over, I've played more than enough BF3 and outdoor penis pool to satisfy a high school's worth of teenagers. Now lets get back to my oh-so-important thought trains.

I recently had to get my bi-decade Meningitis shot at a Walgreens. You'd think that in 2012 we would have more impressive health center locations than a convenience store, but someone walked into a Walgreens, realized it radiated the same atmosphere as a large waiting room and figured they might as well fill it with cigarettes, Dr. Scholl's foot support products and Error Proof Tests.

The marketing and management geniuses did not stop there however, as they felt the need to change the traditional function of the drive-through from financial and "nutritional" exchanges to a "to-go pharmacy." Not only did they manage to merge the pharmacy to the minature grocery store industry, they did so by placing it where the bank tellers would normally be. Thankfully, they did away with the tellers and hired actual (real?) physicians.

I fill out the appropriate forms and listen to Nikki Glaser and Sarah Schaefer's You Had to Be There podcast as I patiently wait for the pain that will remind me of my existence. They move me over to a corner that's obscured from the main waiting area by a large advertisement for seasonal shots and a Hyundai SUV. While in visual solitude, my mind kicks into gear and starts imagining what the Walgreens Doctor, if that's their appropriate title, will look like. Is it going to be a guy who is miserable, or a woman who is unappreciated? Maybe they will be another black woman like the receptionists that helped me moments ago? Possibly an intelligent, Asian man who checked the wrong box after graduating from med school, and must know live with the consequences of form negligence?

Suddenly, a very pretty Asian woman walks out of the door and I immediately wish I lived in a time period where licking your hand and running it through your hair was more of a sexual advance than a clear display of hygene issues. She says hello, produces her magic health bag, shows me the vial containing the meningitis soup that will soon be coursing through my veins in the same way a waiter presents a wine bottle while waiting for your approval. Being the only one without a degree in anything more than giggling during inappropriate situations, I say "Sure, that looks like a great batch. Besides, you're the one with a degree, I'll trust you to put whatever I need into me" and feel the familiar sensation of oral regret creeping over me. I joyfully take the shot, (I've always enjoyed shots for some reason) and sit for the obligatory ten minute resting period before leaving and forgetting what I just experienced: Being penetrated by an Asian cougar.

47 || Deferred Gratification

This one and I have the same skin color but he actually has his shit together...lucky dog.

I have an issue with delaying that feeling of satisfaction, then again, don't we all? When you have a device in your pocket that you can use to research a city you've never been to, plan a week-long trip complete with reservations and transportation accounted for and invite friends all within the span of a bus ride, patience becomes less virtuous and more of an annoyance, like when it takes longer than 15 seconds do hear a song and put it on your preferred music playback device.

Every day it becomes more and more difficult to study for business classes I rarely ever plan on using. I'm fully aware they'll offer great insight to and independent business venture I enter down the road, but man taking an accounting class and trying to write a spec script or comedy in general stresses both side of the brain just enough to leave me with just enough motivation to lie on the floor, look up at the ceiling and think "Maybe the rules of business offer humor if I look at them differently." SPOILER ALERT: They don't.

On top of taking classes for the Marketing major I'll never use for a "real job," I'm also majoring in Sociology, which just adds more class time to my future and takes away from the time I could spend writing something that is not nearly as funny I think it is. For those of you wondering, I don't know what Sociology is either...but I do know it's a step up from those Mass Comm idiots.

The silver lining of this the humblebrag of actually trying in a marketing class, slightly impressing a professor enough to have them ask me what my "plan" is after graduation as far as a career or desired employment position goes, and smugly replying "De-motivational speaker through the philosophical and literal implementation of humor from a personal perspective...or stand up for short." The look of culminated confusion and disappointment is really the only satisfaction that feeds me just enough to not drop out and start writing dick jokes until I'm 40 or...who am I kidding, I don't have a time limit. My "plan," you ask? To write phallic and self-deprecating comedy (synonyms?) until my fingers and eyes cease functioning...even then, I'll Stephen Hawking that shit and work with Google to come up with a text-to-speech algorithm to simulate comedic timing.

I suppose the only other motivation is derived from my significant other is graduating this semester, so now I have to graduate with a double major within the next two years while writing scripts, jokes and, if possible, get more black friends. If you think you have enough black friends, the fact that it's become a conscious thought is proof enough that your lacking in acquaintance diversity. 

Regardless of the self entitled times we live in, there's always one thing we can count on: Sleep is the biggest waste of time we all want more of.

45 // Back to the Sexual Promiscuity

 

That's right kids, for the low, low price of over $1000, you can get "futuristic" looking shoes that you still have to tie yourself!

A friend was watching Back to the Future due to the new shoes by Nike with lights and lasers and whatnot. I sat down to watch it for the first time since the last time I saw it, and I have to ask: What the fuck is up with Marty's mom? I'm referring to Marty and Lorraine's deep psychological issues with their sexual identity and why it grows in the presence of danger and pain, the latter being more specific to Lorraine's side of the analogy.

Exhibit A:
Marty takes the place of his father and gets hit by his grandfather's car who, frankly, was driving way too fast for being literally in front of his own house. His family takes him in, puts them in their teenage daughter's room that must reek of sexual confusion and hormones and expect the day to just move on as normal. Little do they know that Lorraine's been dripping with anticipation since she found him in her bed, even going so far as to strip him down to his underwear and getting close enough to read the brand.

Exhibit B:
When Marty beats Biff by baiting him into a truck full of poop belonging to a local poop smith company (A common profession in the 1950s), she gets so wet she FOLLOWS HIM HOME. Do you know how insane that is? Perhaps I'm a bit naive, but I like to think seeing someone beat up another person, follow them home without their knowledge and then knock on their door with obvious sexual intentions is no longer common in 1011. Now I understand that in a time before cell phones and facial recognition software the only way to find out more information about a certain someone when you know nothing about them was to physically track them down, but even stalking was illegal at this time.

Exhibit C:
At the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, when George punches Biff before his rape scene, but after the incest scene, she completely forgets about Marty's existence due to her raging hormones towards the newly presented confidence (Violence) by George. Moments later, there's another scene where George is pushed by some douche who's never been introduced and drags Lorraine off, presumably to rape her if the previous scene was of any indication, until George then takes over the situation yet again and takes her forever.

Here's the point: If there's any piece of information you should leave this film with, rape was quite rampant in the white, suburbia, high school dances of the 1950s. Also, blacks were the only good musicians, reefer addicts and stole music from young, white students...racism?

Additional Notes:
There's also been talk from those who think it's inappropriate that Marty McFly hangs out with a scientist who is clearly significantly older than him, despite the reasons being obvious. George McFly, in the initial timeline, is bullied by Biff and his gang of minions (Plus the guy with the 3D glasses) and in turn, becomes a push over. This leads to him having even lower confidence than before, causing him to be a mentally and socially absent father and husband, creating a weak family scared of failure and excitement. Enter Doc Brown, Marty's father figure. He's more energetic, intelligent and engaging than his own father, the one person he doesn't want to be. After going back in time and putting his father in a situation that allows his life to changed in a way that improves his self worth, he gives himself the father he's always wanted. It's not about fixing the timeline, but about feeling fulfilled as a son...fun for the whole family.