JC Shamelessly Plugs/Makes Fun of a High School Band.


Folks, this post is an important milestone in my blogging career: This is my 69th post. I assume WordPress has a trophy for that. Something like “You made it this far! Too bad that, because you blog and do nothing else with your life, you will never experience this number and its act personally, loser!”

Now, because 69 is such an important number, I’m doing something special. Sorry, avid readers, it is not the long awaited blog post update about my failures with the ladies, even though, with recent events, that would be totally fitting and brilliant. The fact that I am not making fun of my failures and the fact that some girls are mentally handicapped at realizing that they could have it way worse than me (AND SHE ALREADY HAS HAD IT WORSE, BY THE WAY) is completely selfish on my part. (More on that bullshit later on this week, or probably this year. Depends on when I feel like writing it.)

Instead, I’m being kind to the fact that today was the second to last day for seniors at my school, and as such there were special performances saying goodbye to the college-bound students. One of the performances was a band called The Charter. They’re the average high school band: They do mostly covers, may have a few original songs (‘Original’ being used loosely), everyone at the school they go to loves them, mostly because they’re a band and no one else has gotten the idea to play instruments with other people, and the bass player is, like any other band, more worthless than shit. Personally, I get the appeal, but I’m not batshit crazy about them. They play songs. Who cares? I play a few songs on the guitar and women aren’t throwing their panties at me, even though they should.

So, as everything does have its flaws, and since all band performances, like movies, have repeated cliches, I’m taking a lesson from the Cinema Sins duo and making Band Performance Sins. I do this because I have no other things to write or make fun of and I don’t feel like being original.

This is not against the people who are in The Charter. They are all musicians, they do way more than I do when it comes to song-playing, and they are decent human beings. However, they are a band, and all bands do the same shit in different ways. They did what bands were expected to do, and even if you didn’t see the performance, my realistic description and sin counter will make it seem like any other rock performance.

The following is a list of thoughts and sins that I found during the performance:

  1. Band members are known for liking and overplaying Weezer. Of course, they could like Weezer ironically, but they still encourage the listening of Weezer songs that aren’t “Perfect Situation” or, depending on the listener’s mood, “Buddy Holly.”
  2. Also, obvious Weezer cover-band does not play a Weezer song right off the bat.
  3. No one in the band is relatively ugly. As usual, musical talent is only possible if you can attract people in the bar in the first place before sealing the deal by saying “Oh yeah, I’m in a band.”
  4. Guitar player, who hasn’t even played a note yet, doesn’t hide the fact that he knows he’s about to have control over all the women in the room, which somehow makes his face more punchable.
  5. Band’s lead singer has “Hard Rock” written on his T-Shirt, but band only plays soft rock and pop songs.
  6. Female singer wasn’t my girlfriend during performance.
  7. Guitar player thinks that looking like he has Parkinson’s Disease will make him look like he’s rocking out. Michael J Fox is not happy.
  8. “Guitar player moves body because he gets bored playing same four chords” Cliche.
  9. “Someone in band throws a piece of clothing into the audience to make band seem cooler” Cliche.
  10. Bass player thinks that looking like he has Parkinson’s Disease will hide the fact that he plays bass. Michael J Fox is now furious.
  11. “Bass player moves body because he gets bored playing same four notes” Cliche.
  12. Bass player doesn’t sing, making him worthless to the performance’s overall impact and value.
  13. Lead singer doesn’t play guitar during first song, but decides to play it afterwards because he didn’t like that all the female attention was going straight to the lead guitarist.
  14. Lead singer thinks that looking like he has Parkin- Oh fuck it.
  15. Lead singer says “I love you” to the audience, but only means to say it to the woman he’s going to bang later.
  16. Band thinks that playing “Shut up and Dance,” which I have been playing on repeat on my phone the past week, will make me get involved in the dance party that forms in front of the stage. Band is wrong.
  17. Band’s female singer just walks around stage because she already sang the two lines she was supposed to sing, and does not walk off the stage because she wants to feel somewhat important to the whole performance.
  18. Band does not play any original songs. Or, they did play original songs, but they sound so damn similar to other songs that I couldn’t notice. Either way, it’s a sin.
  19. Lead singer thinks that singing gibberish will make me think of Pearl Jam and actually make me like the band. Singer is wrong.
  20. Lead singer sings gibberish but it is not singing Yellow Ledbetter. You could argue that this sin is the same as the previous sin, but one is manipulation of thinking of Pearl Jam itself, and the other one is a lack of Ledbetter.
  21. “Lead singer and guitarist sing into same microphone” Cliche.
  22. So, did they not plan on the lead guitar player singing? Is that why they needed to share microphones? Couldn’t they have just given the guitar player a microphone as well? My conclusion is that the guitar player can’t sing, but he wants more attention, so he sings when the lead singer sings to make himself appear to sound good. Guitar player is a dick to actually good singers.
  23. Band’s drummer thinks that they should be given more time to perform simply because they are a band. Drummer is misled.
  24. “Someone in band throws a piece of clothing into the audience after done with set to make set more memorable” Cliche.
  25. Cover-band did not play any Pearl Jam songs. But, they might have, but I couldn’t hear because of uneven sound mixing. That’s either a fault on the band for not knowing how to use the amps they have some control over, or it’s on the venue’s shitty sound system. Either way, someone deserves to get kicked in the dick.
  26. Michael J Fox didn’t kill anyone who made fun of Parkinson’s.
  27. Band does not have bodyguards escort them out of the building after performing, which makes my dream of punching the guitarist in the face a somewhat feasible reality.

Sin Count: 27

Sentence: One album of covers, a few singles, and fading into musical obscurity after a regional tour.

Follow The Charter on Twitter if you want (@TheCharterMusic). I don’t personally follow them, but you could, if you think high school students make good bands, you fucking pedophile.

More to come.

I Wrote a Short Play. It Had An Okay One-Night Run.


Folks, I am a published playwright. Officially, as of last Friday, I have had a play that was performed in front of an audience*.

*Of course, as most things that I have called myself, including funny, stand-up comic, and magic fingers, there requires an asterisk after that statement. I think it would be wrong to lie to the whole writing community as a whole if I just say “Yeah, my play was done in front of an audience, what do you dumbass bloggers do with your lives?” So, as a sign of goodwill and losing some of my assholeish charm, I will correct and specify my opening statement: As of last Friday, I have had a play, co-written with a friend/editor of mine, performed by high school students at the high school I still attend, in front of high school students and their parents, totaling around a few hundred people.

So, yeah. Playwright. Technically. Don’t hold me to that title.

The short play was selected, along with others, by a group of directing students. Ten total plays were selected: Five that were comedic, five that were goddamn depressing. Like, I know I’ve made jokes about “Oh, Creative Writers are depressing,” but I now realize that it wasn’t a joke. It was a cold, hard, probably scientifically provable fact that some writers have read too much of Poe and somehow read Macbeth at too young of an age and now think “Oh shit, that’s how we need to write everything!”

Of course, I say that with the knowledge that some of the readers of whatever this is did not get to experience the short one-night run of the one-act collection. So, as I did a little while back when I summarized short films at a student festival, I will give that same treatment here to these short plays in a student showcase. I am not paying attention to who wrote it, unless it’s my own, in which case I will give a biased opinion. Continuing off of that, I will not say names of writers, directors, or actors, but I will say titles of productions. I am going off of what I can remember of each of the plays and its content, and I have one shitty memory. I will not apologize to the writers of the plays, seeing as they were, technically, the best of the twenty-something plays that were given for consideration, so you can disregard anything I say. As always, a nice reminder that I am an asshole whose opinions should not matter in any serious case.

Lets do this shit.

ACT I: The “Don’t You Fucking Cry Lit” Act.

Act Summary: All the depressing plays, just to start off the night on a good note. Filled with violence, tears, and serious topics, I was thankful that the showrunner of the night decided to mention that they were all serious plays after the act was over, and not before the act when I could have decided if I wanted to leave until the relatively funny plays began. But, hey, he’s the professional who has real experience in show business, right?

Play 1: The Shot: A good title, seeing as it focuses on one major event in the story that happens in a split second. Big sister looks after little sister, little sister killed in drive-by shooting, doctor says she’ll make it, she doesn’t, shitty mother goes to grave same day as older sister three years later, verbal and physical fight happens, shitty dad’s a piece of shit who killed own daughter because he thought wife would leave him, mother doesn’t seem as much of a shitty person, but she still kind of is, story ends. Some moral about motherhood isn’t biological but an ideology, another hidden moral about not writing unrealistic storylines in any form of narrative. A good moral for all of us to learn.

Play 2: Pain Management: Okay, in all fairness, this is semi-biographical to the writer and I enjoyed it. Title actually focuses on theme of play, which gives itself bonus points. Girl coops with rare disease that parents really don’t understand, they have to learn how to live with it at the same time she does, a message about the use of language, and ends in a speech about pain. However, I can’t remember the name of the disease, mostly because it sounds made-up even though its real. That’s a fault on the writer, or a fault on the guy who names diseases, who knows. My money says writer. Also, credit is given for being one of the two dramatic plays to not end in death.

Play 3: Insight: Alright, another title that focuses on what happens throughout the play, not a specific event, so far so good. Special child begins having dreams that predict the future, predicts 9/11, shitty dad’s a piece of shit who sends daughter off even though mother wanted to actually help the daughter themselves, daughter now in some room with “specialist,” fight happens, daughter pushed downward onto table, story ends with specialist pointing gun at daughter’s head, fading to black, and a five second delay until we hear gunshot. Anyone else seeing a occurring theme of piece of shit dads being shitty? No? Just me? Never mind.

Play 4: One Word a Night: Okay, back to title being based around one little piece of dialogue that is mentioned only twice. Guy’s sent off to war, little girl from country they are stationed in sneaks in looking for food, small story about how her parents are dead, guy has a wife who had a miscarriage then, like, two minutes of somewhat comedic dialogue around roommate who can’t believe here’s a small girl he needs to hide and a “surprise” inspection (THAT WE ALL KNOW HAPPENED PURELY FOR THE SAKE OF A FEW LAUGHS AND NOT FOR ANY REAL PLOT ADVANCEMENT, BY THE WAY), guy promises that he’ll come back for the girl, guy’s wife says no to the child (EVEN THOUGH WE ALL KNOW SHE WOULD HAVE LOVED TO HAD A CHILD TO REPLACE THE CHILD THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE, BY THE WAY), child says some speech about inspiration, guy and wife comes back a few years later to find child dead, inspiration is gone, guy teaches dead child a new word, piece of shit wife apologizes, even though it’s way too fucking late, and she throws a cigarette at the grave. This play gets credit for actually causing a few people to cry, but loses all of said credit with ALL THE GODDAMN PLOT HOLES AND USELESS CONFLICT. I might have cried too if I weren’t paying any attention, just saying.

Play 5: Being Late: Title revolves around both dialogue and whole play, so this was great. Also the most comedic of the first act. Guy goes to coffee shop, asks for plain bagel and coffee, waitress gives him everything bagel and coffee, guy complains about it, a both comedic and serious argument about the ideologies of the type of bagel you eat, job choices, and perfection happens, and it end with moral that perfection and wealth isn’t always perfect. Relatively cute, second of the two dramatic plays to not involve death, only real problem is that money does equal perfection. You ever see Donald Trump depressed? Didn’t think so.

ACT II: The “Beginning and Ending of this Act was Good, The Middle Was a Clusterfuck Of Confusion” Act.

Act Summary: All the comedic and slightly comedic plays are packed together into the final act. Starting off with comedic brilliance, going on into a play about kidnapping, one I still am very confused about, one that’s relatable, and finishing off with one that I don’t feel like talking about, the night ended off slightly on the right foot.

Play 6: A Play.: Well, the title seems like two assholes who didn’t give a shit wrote it. I know this because I wrote it with my asshole friend. Starts off as a parody of dramatic plays, with actor staying true to what he believes is correct, challenges director and writer who both think that they are correct, and an incompetent techie who likes Spice Girls, all of whom argue with each other until the director walks away, the actor walks out, and the techie and writer dance to the Spice Girls together. A Big Bang Theory joke, a masturbatory hand joke, and other fun things happen. Best play of the year, in my personal opinion.

Play 7: Kidnapped: Title relates to whole story, so it’s clear in that aspects. Two incompetent brothers try to kidnap the wife of a guy who owes a fuckton of money to the mafia or mob, some illegal shit, dumb brother gets talked into changing sides after smarter brother attempts to screw him over for valid reason, but oh shit, the wife isn’t the wife but the housemaid, and they’re fucked! A relatable kidnapping story for all mafia members in the audience (0, by the way).

Play 8: The Hungry Games: Okay, the title rips of two things: The Hunger Games, and every other parody of The Hunger Games that’s called The Hungry Games. Best part: Not even a Hunger Games parody, just some bullshit. I had no clue what happened in this play. I don’t know, something about baseball, Satan, and fighting over cakes. Plot was fucking everywhere, jokes were bland, I don’t know what to think. (Also: Two people chasing each other in a circle, one going out to take a breather while the other still runs, then rejoins the chase isn’t funny: It only makes the viewer question if the person still running is stupid or blind. But, hey, blind people are funny, right? Wearing sunglasses indoors and falling over shit. Hilarious!)

Play 9: Oh Brothers: Play actually about brothers, but sounds like a sitcom that I would hate, so very mixed feelings based on title alone. Sister has two older brothers, one’s a nerd, one’s a jock, sister has a date, date gets harassed by brothers, brothers reveal to themselves that their sister has finally grown up, but they still want to protect her, and another moral I didn’t feel like learning about. It was cute, had some moments. Only problem with it is that it is that the whole premise begins with the two brothers playing video games. Jocks don’t play those nerd games. Jocks play sports and get laid. The fact that the jock was home and not getting bitches was definitely put in the play for plot purposes.

Play 10: Camp Funshine: Title relates to setting, so who gives a shit. Murderous six-year-old kills all the stereotypical kiddie campers who make a few jokes, including a nerd with asthma, a female rapper from New York (fuck New York, by the way. Too close to Jersey.), a fat kid who eats food, and some asshole who you only see for two seconds on stage, all because she “loves” the camp counselor. (Not irony: Play about love written by two females, one of which has had no real experience with love but has had at least five boyfriends. Six year old’s idea of love is almost identical to her idea about love, excluding the murdering (as far as I know)). What was the worst best part of the play? Sitting next to the writers as they reenact what’s happening on stage and laugh at their own jokes when no one else laughed. Like, a good three times they thought what they wrote was funny, but it was not with a crowd pissing their pants, it was with three other people, scattered through the audience, giving a slight giggle. I love audience interaction.

That’s that. My comedy play definitely was the bomb, but I let the writers of Camp Funshine think that they won the best comedy play contest in my head, even though they were a close second.

More to come. Not about any more stupid plays, hopefully.

An Average Road Trip to Fort Lauderdale.


fbf-3

Funny Blog Friday (FBF) is a Blog Hop consisting of multiple funny bloggers, apparently including JC, connecting and attempting to make some jokes. JC does not make jokes, but makes clever little insights that may have some meaning that we all can learn from, but he waters it down with goddamn profanities. Whoops.

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to drive down to Fort Lauderdale, FL, for Bo Burnham’s comedy show. Yep, you heard it: Fort Lauderdale. 200 miles from my house in Kissimmee, FL. Quite honestly, both are similar towns: Both are on the outskirts of cities that actually matter, both have odd people, and both have fucking ridiculous names. The distance between the two areas, fun little fact, is far enough that Google will suggest that you take a 55-minute plane to get to either town instead of taking the three hour drive that I took.

Yeah. Three hours one-way – Six hour round trip. Six hours with my parents driving and me in the back seat with my female accomplice. Also, yeah. Female accomplice. Get that shit wrapped around your head. I’ve been blogging for the past three years about my failures with the ladies, and I’ve made some relatively offensive jokes about women (and men too, but no one gives a shit about that), so I’d like to believe that there’s at least one avid reader going “Damn, JC finally got some girl on his dick! How the fuck did that happen?” Was she a hot date? Nope. Was she a date in general? Not a chance. Apparently, she doesn’t want to get in anything serious, so she was just dead weight when we went. I could have dropped her, but I didn’t because her love for Bo Burnham is creepy and she would have killed me if I didn’t let her go.

So, three hour road trip with parents and creepy Bo Burnham lover. And, in reality, three hours was not as long as she was bitching on about. Like, we ride the bus together for at least an hour and a half every school day, and I don’t hear any complaints then, but we get to that hour and thirty-one minute mark on this trip, there’s some backlash I’m lucky enough to never see on a daily basis. I recall the words “My ass hurts” being said, and, I admit, I appreciate her honesty. No woman, if they’re sitting for more than an hour and a half or if you’re just fucking them, will ever say that their ass hurts. There’s yet to be an honest porno where a woman gets up halfway through and says “Yeah, let’s just do missionary, cause this doggystyle shit is too much.”

We did solve her ass problem at a toll road truck stop. She got a chance to get up and I got to take the wonderful views that truck stops now have. I don’t know what the joke was that finally brought attention of the shitty quality stops used to have, but they cleaned up their act. I walked into this magical place and their bathrooms were actually clean. There was a tourist info center inside, and the place was hundreds of miles away from where tourists are, because they know that there’s one asshole with their stupid family who wanted to go to Miami but wanted to save a buck on airfare, so they decided to land in Orlando and drive for hours to Miami. They had that place for that one asshole that doesn’t even exist. Granted, they had a Burger King which isn’t necessarily the best of its industry, but they had clean bathrooms. End of story.

An hour later, we get to Fort Lauderdale. It was my first time there, and it was cool just to see how different it was from where I usually hang around. To celebrate the occasion we ate at this place called Pizza Fusion. With a name like that, you would think that it was this cool and hip place where they combine pizza and burgers, or ice cream, some shit like that. Fucking no. Nothing like that. Organic and vegan pizza. That’s what it turned out to be. Yeah, they had pepperoni, but I wasn’t convinced that they would serve any type of meat, seeing they were on Peta’s list of “Top ten animal friendly pizza chains,” or something like that. I still firmly that they served Fakeroni(TM, willing to sell for high price) on an extra large pizza we got. (Also, some bullshit I need to address: EXTRA LARGE DOES NOT MEAN “Serves three to four people” AS THE MENU SUGGESTS. IT MEANS “Serve a fuckload of people.” PLEASE REMEMBER THAT WHEN OPERATING ANY PIZZA-BASED BUSINESS.)

My female companion and I saw the concert afterwards. It was good. Opening act was good (Guy’s name was Adam Newman. Never heard of him, has a good act going for him.), headliner, Bo Burnham, did a good performance, and that’s that. I should mention that the reason that I use such elementary vocabulary, like the basic word “good,” just to piss off a few of my friends. I need to be as much of an asshole who saw something that he spent money and a ride for, had an amazing time, and to tell his friends “Eh, it was okay.” Yeah, in reality it was the best thing I’ve seen in a while, but screw that idea. My friends need to think that I did not deserve to watch the rising comedian in action.

After that, we slept the drive home, slept on air mattresses next to each other, and she left the next day. Nothing happened: No kiss, no makeout session, just some bullshit arm-around-her action. Nothing happened. Like, I don’t think she was obligated to do anything, but it would have been nice. Tell everyone three months before that you’re gonna blow a guy just to not do it is a huge let-down for everyone, not just the guy. Just saying.

So, yeah. Fast times on the Florida Turnpike and in Fort Lauderdale.

I didn’t get blown. I’m still sad because of it.

More to come.

Here’s a list of other bloggers involved in Funny Blog Friday.  Visit them. Or don’t. Approximately zero out of the 20-something people that read up to this point continue to scroll down and click on any of the names.

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Alanna of White Girls Be Like…

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur of Pouring My Art Out

Gina of Endearingly Wacko

Eric of Opticynicism

Lisa of Where’s My Xanax…

Sophia from Stories from the Far Side of Normal

Drew of Gnomes and Pineapples

 

I Don’t Understand Kik.


I recently got Kik Messenger. I don’t know exactly why I did it, but I did.

I hate it. I honestly do. I already think talking to my friends is a dumb idea, adding a few green colors isn’t gonna change that. I don’t understand the appeal of it, as it’s the same shit as other messenger services. Apparently, I’m the only one who knows that fact. The fourth message I got from a friend was “Tbh I prefer kik.” I didn’t realize that any human being could pick, of the millions of applications that allow you to send your stupid thoughts to your stupid friends, a specific app as a favorite. I wanted to tell her that she was wrong in her opinion making skills, but I like to be subtle. I message her “It’s the same shit though.” She was not phased, replying “noooooo.” I don’t know why she needed so many ‘o’s,’ I think the statement didn’t require it. I would deserve those added letters if I said something that wasn’t germane, like “Hey, can I fuck you?” but I didn’t ask that. And that’s also the wrong answer to the question, just so we’re all clear.

So with the added benefit of my dumbass friends being able to message me shit, I love one other aspect. The first thing they list on the permissions, if you go on Google Play, is “In-app purchases.”

I never thought that a messenger app could have the balls to say “Fuck you, you got to pay for some shit.” I had no fucking clue that someone could find a way to profit off of people trying to talk to each other through an app. Shouldn’t the first damn thing that a messenger app tell you in the permissions is “Hey, we access your phone to send messages, cause that’s the thing you signed up for” and not “Give us money”? I already get fucked over by Verizon; you think I want another business having a go?

I don’t know. Maybe someone I know will explain why I’m the true idiot and why their messenger from the gods is what is truly needed for this generation to communicate. Some bullshit Kik Master Race gonna happen. Probably. I don’t know anymore.

More to come.

That’s A Lie. A Short Story.


I wrote a fictional, slightly comedic, dialogue-driven short story called That’s a Lie. People said it was good when I gave it to them, but I did not believe them because most of them think The Big Bang Theory and Grey’s Anatomy is good, so they don’t have any idea what is truly “Good.” Never mind their opinion, here it is. Enjoy.

* * *

Tim was fully prepared when she said “I think I’m in love with him.”

Sabrina wasn’t prepared at all when he said “Elaborate.”

Tim was used to this type of conversation; one wherein the amount of bullshit that comes out of someone’s mouth beats the amount a typical McDonald’s cattle ranch produces in a year. This conversation, specifically where Sabrina mentioned the words “I think I’m in love with him,” has been said a few good times. He couldn’t remember the exact date that it last occurred, but he guessed it was around two months ago, back when Ryan was her boy-toy at the time. Tim was finally done with this type of conversation, and wanted to mess around with Sabrina and see what would happen.

“What?” Sabrina asked, confused as to the context of the question.

“Elaborate,” Tim said once more.

Tim began to remember the last two times he had this conversation with Sabrina. They both ended the same way: Sabrina would say the sentence that has lost all meaning, Tim would say “Good for you,” and then she’d leave to go see whoever it was she was with at the time. The only variable that was in the equation was where it took place. The first time it happened in a small little coffee shop, which Sabrina invited Tim and a friend of theirs to give the news, and the second time was in Intermediate Algebra, where almost everyone was around to hear the news. This time, Tim and Sabrina were alone in a dive bar, sitting across from each other at a table.

“Well,” Sabrina began to explain, “We both have alike tastes in style and humor, we both support each other, and he wants to have sex with me, so it’s a win-win.”

Tim took a millisecond to gather his thoughts over such an odd sequence of words.. “What’s this win-win scenario?”

“He wants to have sex with me, I’ll give it to him because we’re in love, and that’s that. We both have sex, we both win.” Sabrina began to sip her drink

Tim did not even try to hide the smirk that spanned his face for a moment. Sabrina took notice of this expression, and slowly lowered her drink.

“Why’d you smirk?” Sabrina asked in a rude tone.

“Why do I smirk at anything?” Tim retorted. “I thought something that someone said was funny.”

Sabrina leaned back in her seat. “You think what I said was funny?”

“No, I thought what you implied was funny,” Tim replied.

“What did I imply then?”

“You think that because he wants to fuck you, you’re both in love.”

“And that’s funny?”

“It’s hilarious, even. For all the stand-up that I have seen and heard, that sentence-slash-joke rises to Pryor and Carlin ranks.”

“Why?”

Tim scanned the room for the guy that Sabrina would consider mildly attractive. The perfect one was the guy that was tall, had a flat-top hairstyle, and an average face. Face and body didn’t matter to Sabrina, as long as there was a pair of lips that she could match with hers while her eyes were closed and as long as there was a penis between the legs.

“See flat-top over there?” Tim pointed out to Sabrina, who was automatically showing interest, as he grabbed a pen and a napkin.

“Yes,” Sabrina said.

“Do you know him?”

“No.”

Tim began to write her words on the napkin. “Is he attractive?”

“Definitely, but I don’t see where thi-”

“Would you have sex with him given the chance?” Tim asked, cutting Sabrina off as he wrote.

Sabrina was taken aback. “What?”

Tim looked up at Sabrina, her face as if she did not understand the language Tim was speaking. “Simple question: would you fuck him?”

Sabrina took a few moments. “Maybe.”

“You would consider it?”

“I guess.”

Tim began to sip his drink as he wrote it down. He read from his napkin. “So you don’t know the guy, you don’t love him, let’s make sure that becomes specified, but you would consider having sex with him. This is all true?”

Tim slid the napkin to Sabrina. The words ‘Don’t know him – is attractive – would fuck’ were written. “Apparently,” Sabrina said.

Tim took the napkin back. “Using your own words, you countered your own argument,” Tim said, tapping on the napkin as he spoke.

Sabrina paused before sighing. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, just because you want to fuck, doesn’t mean you love the person you’re fucking. Shit, if that was true, porn wouldn’t exist because those women – the ones with the fake tits bigger than yours and the ones with natural tits still bigger than yours – would be fucking the same guy every single fucking video. Instead of the large pool of female actresses and the small pool of male actors who could be mixed and matched, porn production companies would need to hire couples that are, in your world, in love. There’s only, what, like two porn couples today? You think they have that magical connection everyone wants that allows them to fuck every single day for a paycheck?”

Sabrina was offended.  “But he wants to-” Sabrina began to say in a defensive tone, emphasizing the word ‘Want.’

“News flash: a lot of guys would fuck you given the opportunity. Blind guys who can’t see you, deaf guys who don’t have to hear a damn word you say, I did at one point, and maybe a few people here who could get you drunk enough to take you back to their place.”

“At one point?” Sabrina asked, curious to a very small portion of Tim’s statement.

“And on top of that, just because you have alike tastes in things doesn’t make you two star-crossed lovers, just friends. What, we have alike tastes in music but you show no interest in me,” Tim argued, avoiding the original question Sabrina brought up in an attempt to explain to her the ideals of life Tim believed in.

“What do you mean, ‘At one point?’” Sabrina asked in a more dominant tone, staying focused on the original topic.

“Did I want to fuck you? Oh, hell yeah I did, but that was a different time.”

“What was different?” Sabrina asked.

“A lot of things: I was new to the game of romance, I had less experience than the average guy, and I had one last thing.” Tim stood up, and grabbed his drink. He left the napkin near Sabrina

“Lower standards.” Tim finished his thought as he began to walk to the bar.

Tim did not notice Sabrina give a slight gasp, as he was too focused on the way the bartender poured cheap beer from the tap that Tim ordered. Tim did not notice Sabrina walk away in anger, throwing the napkin away in a trashcan near the door, but began to notice the music playing in the background. Hooked on a Feeling was midway through the second chorus. Tim, for the first time that evening, liked the sound that he was hearing.

* * *

That’s it. That’s my fiction piece. Loved it or hated it, it happened. You read it, can’t do much about that now.

More to come. Probably about real things and not just some fictional story.

JC Has Odd Conversations and Knows Odd People.


My sister recently told me that communication is the key to any good relationship, romantic or platonic. She does not understand how dumb that sounds when you put into the context the people I know, and it really is becoming more apparent that I think slightly more about what I say than my colleagues. Or think in general, for that matter.

Like the other day, I was in Spanish class, just being the whitest person in the room. We had a recent seat change, so I now sit close to the door. An acquaintance comes in and forgets where her seat is, before saying “Wow, I keep on forgetting that I sit so close to the door.” Simple statement, doesn’t really need any more than that, could become a pretty good tweet. She then adds something along the lines of “If a gunman comes in, looks like I’m screwed.” Probably not the best of things to say in any school setting. I still have yet to say a single word to this gal, and she adds, “Luckily, I got the soda that can distract him and I’ll be a hero.” Like she actually believes that soda is going to stop a gunman of any kind. Like a kid that has had enough somehow gets a gun, makes a plan of action that he works on for weeks, goes to Spanish class at the right time, probably around when class has begun, and right before they start to shoot, Miss SodaSaver opens up the soda, maybe she’s already sipping it, splashes it in the person’s face, and the plan just goes to shit within a few seconds. Because soda is gonna make him forget the gun he’s holding and ready to shoot, and then say “Aw shit, what the fuck? I got soda on my shirt, the gun might jam a little, everything is just gonna be sticky now. Oh well, arrest me. It’s over. Didn’t plan on this shit happening. Should have put plastic on everything.” So I now decide to talk, you know, to let everyone know that I have half a brain, and say “Well, will soda really make you a hero? Will that really help?” She responds with “Well, it might distract him so that I can leave.” There’s only one thing that you can say, right? I say “Well that doesn’t make you a hero, that makes you selfish!”Now she gets defensive, and says “Well after I splash him with soda, I’ll take him down! Will that make me a hero?”

No. No it will not.

Another good story: Another female colleague I know very well. I wont say friend, due to the fact that she’s got another boytoy and thinks that I and my bro is “bad news,” even though when they break up in the next two months she’ll be crawling back to us for guidance, and she won’t listen and go off with another douche. She was dumped on New Years Eve. Sad story… for her. Hilarious for me, because I fucking called it! Three weeks later, she gets with another guy, one that I know from the 8th grade. The guy’s an asshole, and she’ll find out soon. She’s into assholes. The guy literally broke up with his girlfriend to be with her, so he’s also a fucking moron. Here’s their plan: Keep their relationship under wraps for a few days, and get back at their ex’s after she blows him. That’s the plan. And she blows after three weeks. Hell, she might get the idea that it didn’t work out because she didn’t blow him soon enough! Maybe it’ll be two weeks, then the next guy after this douche gets one week wait! I had a thing for her before all this bullshit, and it might be gone now, but I’m willing to let her date a few guys so I get blown a day into the two-day relationship.

What else: I joined Instagram recently, and I got three letters from colleges. I thought it was cool, getting them all in one swoop. I got a few separately, cumulative I have gotten about 7 letters, a few from the same college that I do feel like going to. I take a photo of the three letters, give it a simple “College stuff.” caption, and post it. Twenty minutes later, I get a comment from the female from the last anecdote that says, and I directly quote, “Nigga I got 10 of those in a day.” Now she wants to talk to me after ignoring me, only to one up me. So I have to respond with a slightly condescending comment, so I simply say “Good for you. You want a trophy or something?”

Now, if you know me, I usually go harsh when I get aggravated over stupid shit. I wasn’t as harsh because I couldn’t pick the perfect way to end it. The statement “Good for you. You want a trophy or something?” is only half of what I wanted to say, but the second half had multiple ways that I could have brought her of her high horse.

Here’s a list of possible second halves to the statement “Good for you. You want a trophy or something?”:

  • A trophy that reads “Colleges are interested in me but cute boy’s aren’t.”?
  • A trophy that reads “Colleges are interested in me but I can’t have a stable relationship”?
  • A trophy that reads “Colleges are interested in me so I get to be a condescending asshole”?
  • A trophy that reads “I can round the number 1 up to 10″?
  • A trophy that reads “I got JC interested in me, who really is kind of a nice person unlike my ex’s, but I lost him all in one sentence”?
  • A trophy that reads “I have a good GPA but that says nothing about my true intelligence”?
  • A trophy that reads “I got 10 letters in one day but when I respond to them I’ll get no reply because they made a mistake”?

Yeah, I get dark.

More to come.

A Complete Guide on What Will Probably Happen in the New Year.


fbf-3

 

Funny Blog Friday (FBF) is a Blog Hop consisting of multiple funny bloggers, for some reason including JC, connecting and eventually stealing each other’s material and reposting it at a later time. Be prepared for someone to become super famous after they take something I said and take all the credit for themselves. I can’t wait for the lawsuit that’ll follow after.

Folks, I recently discovered that I am a god. Not whatever god that you believe in, that dude is almost guaranteed to be fake, but a real god, like Joseph Smith or Matthew Mcconaughey. I recently came into my powers after my last post. I wrote about a relationship that I predicted would fail within the month after the post was published. Well, I was technically right. It happened within the few hours after. I have the god-like power to vaguely predict when things will happen, and I hope to abuse this power to do what some might have thought was impossible:

I shall predict vague events that will happen within the next year, a relatively long and vague period of time. If any one of these events happen, or an event that feels close to whatever I say, then we all have to admit that I have powers that none of you fuckers have.

Here we go.

  • Adam Sandler will, for a very short period of time, revitalize his acting and comedy career, but will lose all credibility after he announces a sequel to any of his films. Bonus points if it’s Grown Ups 3.
  • We shifted from white neighborhood watch shooting an unarmed black teen to a white police officer shooting and unarmed black teen, so lets up the ante and say a soldier will shoot an unarmed black teen.
  • Somebody at either NBC, CBS, or FOX will finally have a stroke of genius and cancel or annonce the last season for either The Biggest Loser/Bad Judge, The Big Bang Theory/Mom, or The Mindy Project/New Girl, all of which are given to their respective networks. Preferably, The Big Bang Theory are taken out, at the very least.
  • A major video game studio will close down, or Call of Duty will actually have an original story or title, at the very least.
  • Apple will release the iPhone 8, because fuck you, that’s why. (It will also fucking bend.)
  • Florida will have not one, but two, major news stories of crazy people that will make national headlines.
  • The NFL will have another scandal that is not in relation to drugs or domestic abuse, which, I’ll admit, sounds impossible, but it’ll happen.
  • There will be a leak of male celeb nudes, because hackers don’t want to be perceived as sexist invaders of privacy.
  • Leonardo DiCaprio will not win an Oscar. I don’t necessarily agree with my prediction, but it’s just not gonna happen. Sorry.
  • FOX News will surpass MSNBC in viewers, but not in actual reputable news reporting.
  • I will get into a relationship, but it won’t last because of something that I’ll say, probably “I’m breaking up with you.”
  • I will solve all of my friends problems, but at their cost of me writing about it, then them irrationally getting angry at me because they all know damn well that I have this, and there’s a hidden agreement like those that you skip over when you update iTunes. If you don’t bother to check, it’s your fucking fault.

Those are my predictions. They probably will not happen.

More to come.

Here’s other people who do this blog hop, or, at least, signed up for it when it originally started. I honestly have no clue who cares anymore. Check them out anyway if you feel like it.

Victoria of Angst Anarchy

Alanna of White Girls Be Like…

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur of Pouring My Art Out

Gina of Endearingly Wacko

Eric of Opticynicism

Anonymous, Miscellaneous, Rapturous

hopefully here will be actual, creative, possibly intellectual pieces of writing

I really do not know

Random posts I guess.

White Girls Be Like...

"Cats, Twitter, Coors Light, & Everything In Between"

Grantland

Sports and pop culture from our rotating cast of writers

H.E. ELLIS

A quasi writer avoiding life through Zen meditation and grain alcohol

Pearls Before Swine

The Blog O' Stephan Pastis

I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart- Vincent Van Gogh

nikkiroseb's Blog

The greatest WordPress.com site in all the land!

The Office Inbetweener

SOME GUYS JUST AREN'T CUT OUT FOR A 9 TO 5...

Mostly Bright Ideas

Some of these thoughts may make sense. But don't count on it.

Broadside

Smart and surprising

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