Hunting For Douchebags (d-bags)

The term douchebag (or d-bag) is tossed out quite often in this day and age.  Heck, I think I’ve used it at least 50 times throughout this blog myself.  It just feels right rolling off the tongue, pen, or through the keyboard, don’t you think?  It occurred to me recently that many of us probably don’t even really know what a douchebag actually is, other than a derogatory term used to describe your boss, co-worker, or the guy that made your sandwich today at Subway.  What's more, I don't even know how to properly spell the fucking word (is it douche bag, douche-bag, or douchebag).  So, I’m going to take it upon myself right here and right fucking now to educate the masses on a) the correct spelling of douchebag is "douchebag", b) what a douchebag actually is; and c) some good places to find them.

Section #1:  What the fuck is a douchebag?

There are so many descriptions/definitions of the term or object known as a douchebag.  I’ll get to those in a second, but want to start with my first encounter with a douchebag, which was frankly nasty.  Sometime in the mid 1990’s, my parents farmed me out to some family friends for a few weeks (I must have been around 13 or 14).  I was OK with it, since they had a relatively hot daughter and I was good friends with their son.  One day, I was showering and got some soap in my eyes.  They were burning quite intensely, so I quickly reached out for the nearest rag/cloth/non-soapy substance.  Fortunately, there was something rubbery hanging inside the shower and I was able to use it to help clear the soap out of my eyes.  When my vision cleared up, I examined the object that I had just used all over my face.  It was a puzzling object to be sure.  What sort of alien contraption is this I wondered?  Minutes later, I presented it to my friend, noting that I had applied it to my face.  Noticing the pale/sick look on his face, I asked “what, what the fuck is wrong”?  He began describing that the contraption was in fact his mothers’ douchebag, etc, etc.  After puking in my own mouth, I realized I had learned a valuable lesson…never trust what you can’t see.

So, there is the literal definition/interpretation of a douchebag (although, it should be noted that the real spelling of the image above is "douche bag").  However you spell it, not a pretty picture.  We can now definitively understand why this term is used in such a derogatory fashion to describe other individuals.  Here are a few definitions from the Urban Dictionary that will help us further understand what a “douchebag” is:

1. Someone who has passed the levels of jerk and asshole, however not yet fucker or motherfucker
2. An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears
3. A person with a shitty personality that needs to "take them self the fuck down" or "go home and get their fucking shine box." A douche-bag usually assumes the form of a hair-gelling pretty-boy but can also be described as an overzealous, pompous, or vexatious asshole that most people wish were killed with a Mortal Kombat fatality.

OK - so with that out of the way, we must now focus on identifying and locating douchebags (just in case you are bored one day).

Section #2: What do they typically look like?  Where do I find one?

You really don’t have to look too far to find a true d-bag.  There are probably some in a cubicle near you right now.  However, if you are really starved for d-bag interaction OR you want to investigate this cultural group a bit further, try some of the hot spots below.  You can spot them easily by looking for the following features or actions:

• General Features
• The Belt Buckle - aside from investing in some sort of flashy belt buckle, there will be keys hanging from the belt with some sort of carabiner clip sponsored by a beer company

• The Shirt - they will be wearing one of the following shirts: a wife beater, a shirt with a popped collar, or a designer t-shirt with some sort of crazy design or eagle wings.  There is also a strong chance they will not be wearing a shirt.

• The Tatts - it appears that this person must get a volume discount a the local tattoo parlor

• Company Guy - they are proudly displaying their office security pass (either via lanyard or belt clip), claiming to be an executive with more money than god.  The reality is, they probably work the phones in customer service.

• The Technology - they are likely wearing some sort of bluetooth earpiece OR they will be showing off their recent smart phone purchase (bought with their racked up credit card).  Alternatively, there is this guy...

• The Ride & The Tunes - they are driving a car they can't afford OR they have "pimped out" their ride (think massive spoiler and loud muffler).  In case that doesn't get them enough attention, they turn to the age old trick of cranking the dance music as loud as you can with the windows down. 

• Hygiene - regular showers are for suckers right.  This guy bathes in cologne or some sort of spray he picked up at the grocery store/pharmacy

• Fake Tan or Spray Tan? - they have probably done both just prior to hitting the bar scene for the night...

That was really just the "tip of the iceberg" in terms of the general features.  To help you understand further, please see the following short video entitled "are you a douchebag":

• Hot Spots:
• Convenience stores - the d-bag is likely doing one of the following things: 1) openly doing the read and grab with a porn magazine while you walk by with your kids, 2) playing hackey sack or something similar with their friends while horking on the sidewalk, or 3) getting ready to rob you or the guy who can barely speak a word of english behind the counter. 
• Casinos or Pool Halls - these places are like magnets for the d-bag at heart.  They are drawn to a world of stupidity, gambling, and general looserish behaviour (is that a word?).  Quick, put your whole welfare cheque on black you fucking delinquent.
• Seedy Strip Clubs - when all else fails and they strike out on picking up/buying girls again, the d-bag has two options.  1) Rape someone - sadly, this happens to often as it is, or 2) Go to strip club with low standards and pay for blow job.  "Perverts row" is like the who's who of the d-bag clan.
• Wing Joints - for some reason, d-bags love eating chicken wings.  Maybe it is their lack of worldly experience or interest in the expansion of their culinary experience.  Or maybe its because they are just mutts who like to eat things off a bone (see earlier blog on my feelings re chicken wings).
• Dance Clubs - much like casinos or pool halls, d-bags are drawn to anything that gives them a chance to show off their new tattoo, t-shirt, or stolen car in the hopes that they land a little take home (lady of the night).  If they can't afford the private booth with bottle service, they are probably out on the dance floor cross checking people in the back rather than bustin' a move. 

I don't know about you, but I'm kind of warming up to this whole concept.  Wings, strippers, gambling, steroids... it sounds kind of fun.   With that, I launch my own campaign for the 2012 Douchebag of The Year Award.

The Dine & Shit

You should be able to tell by my odd sense of humor OR by the multiple references made throughout this blog, but I'll say it anyway - I am a big fan of the show Curb Your Enthusiasm.  Now, I understand that this show isn’t on the top of everyone’s “must watch” list, but that is really more a reflection of general intelligence issues across North American society (i.e. there are a lot of stupid people that need to be spoon fed jokes, like they did on the show Friends, vs. having to think/understand before they laugh).  Anyway, one thing I’ve always enjoyed about Curb is Larry David’s ability to connect two “things” or “actions” into one succinct phrase. 

For example, the Stop and Chat:

Or how about the Chat and Cut:

Anyway, the most recent episode (featuring the chat and cut) reminded me of something disgusting that I first discovered when I was a bus boy in a family restaurant at the age of 14 – The Dine and Shit (i.e. going out for a meal and taking a deuce in the restaurant/eatery bathroom).  You see, aside from my normal duties of clearing and wiping tables, polishing cutlery, or spilling water on people, I was also forced to check the bathrooms periodically to make sure all was well.  Unfortunately in many cases, all was not well.  In fact, all was very fucking wrong, especially during the Sunday brunch shift where I first encountered the dreaded dine and shit.

Who else feels sorry for poor Dennis?...

The Sunday brunch crowd at this restaurant was much like any Sunday brunch crowd you’ll find anywhere – church going families, church going old people, and those people with severe hangovers.  Our Sunday brunch crowd was nicely spiced up with the odd trucker here and there AND a couple of mentally challenged dudes from the group home up the road (Scotty 4 thumbs and Roger).  Now, mix together a crowd of potential restaurant shitters on the best of days (kids, old people, truckers, and the mentally challenged) with a jambalaya of coffee, bacon, eggs, lasagna, more coffee, French toast, fried chicken, baked beans, orange juice to cleanse the pallet, more coffee, lasagna again, some salad, and sure enough more coffee – the results can be disastrous.  So disastrous in fact, that I really don’t feel comfortable describing many of the “incidents” that occurred in both the men’s and women’s “shitters” in my 6 years as a bus boy (yes, I was too useless to get promoted to waiter status).  Let’s just say I think some assholes have more power than a pressure washer and I'm jealous of the people who got to clean up Hiroshima.

Anyway, to the point at hand, in what universe is it OK to shit where you dine?  Those with IBS or severe abdominal cramping get a free pass (you can spot them by their generally pale skin), but for those who are actually dropping fully formed logs, I take issue.  I know from experience that a regular human can retain a fully formed log for up to 3 days under the right circumstances, so don't push me on this issue (see future blog about being told to shit in a dug-out hole at Cub Scouts camp in the late 80's). 

Any facility that exists only to prepare food to sell to the masses should be exempt from public shitting, with the exception of the circumstances noted above.  The reasons should be blatantly obvious, but I’ll outline them anyway:

1.   That Age Old Theory – just like you don’t fuck where you work, you don’t shit where you eat.  Get it.

2.   The Dirty Drift – these bathrooms are not designed to encapsulate the stench (like the industrial office bathrooms that know they are going to get beaten down by shitters every day).  Inevitably, your business will drift towards another table thereby ruining their meal/experience.  Save your green apple splatter for home.  It is easier to execute on your home turf anyway.

3.   Pink Eye – you have a 150% greater chance of getting pink eye if you crap at a restaurant.  This sounds made up, but the janitor at work seriously told me this, so alas it must be true.

4.   Protecting Your Restaurant Options – once you shit at a restaurant once, you should never return to it no matter how good the actual meal was.  I can tell you from experience, the restaurant staff will brand you as a shitter from that day forward.  Your service (and food quality) will deteriorate drastically upon any future visit.  It is hard enough to find a decent meal these days, don’t ruin it with a crap that can wait until you get home.

So, let’s all work together to create a world where we are free from the oppression of those that would dare to shit where we all dine.  I have a dream… 

The Evolution of Ranking Humans

Well it's Sunday today, which means only one thing...I'm watching that show about that thing on the Discovery Channel.  It is a ritual.  Today's show has featured the evolution of mankind from the cave to the iPhone.  This reminded me of two things.  1 - just like the stockholders of RIM, I need to dump the blackberry in favour of something much cooler.  2- I should shave my caveman like beard so young families stop running away from me in the park.  Having said that, the beard does make me look more intellectual, which really only serves a purpose when I'm invited to a wine and cheese party with snobby/yuppie d-bags.  Anyway, the whole evolution thing "got me thinkin" about how humans may have in fact peaked and we are now on the wrong side of the mountain.  You just need to review the headlines each day to know that is the case (see earlier blog re “the headlines”).   Not to get to philosophical on your asses, but human beings have generally lost touch with what it means to be human.

One sure sign of our evolving disconnect between right and wrong is the transformation of how we “rank” members of the opposite sex.  A simple “she/he is hot or not” has evolved into a complicated math formula that even some of the most advanced intellects don’t understand.  What’s more, the determination of a positive ranking is based less on who you are and more on what you look like, especially if you have invested in some technological beauty enhancements.  To illustrate what I’m talking about, consider the following:

·     1950 - Men commonly referred to a girl they wanted to fuck as “swell” (as in – “did you see Mildred in art class today, she really looked swell”).  Another great word used in this era was “snazzy”.

·     1980-1999 – Words like “cute” and “hot” became more common references to describe those that we found attractive

·     2000 – The website Hot or Not was founded by two electrical engineers who graduated from Berkeley (U of California).  I can just imagine what these guys look like.  Anyway, for those out of the loop, this site allowed users to post photos of people and allow the mass populous to rate the people depicted in the photo based on their looks alone.  This helped to sway an already morally bankrupt society further into the red.

·     2005 – Words like “smokin’”, “steaming”, and “face melter” became more trendy

·     2009 – It became commonplace to use numbers instead of words to describe women.  “She is a 10 dude” or “Oh pig vomit, that bitch is like a 2”.

·     2011 – After years of research and a fake sociology degree obtained online, the Lighthouse Attendant releases a new 0-5 scale that is sure to change to face of our society…

So, in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, here goes nothin’:

0.   The Land Monster – this “thing” invokes an instant reaction of heaving while covering your mouth.  It is not just the inevitable cottage cheese smell or cankles, but the sheer sight of it’s face makes you want to shove your head up your own ass.  It is safe to say that 3% of the population is represented in this category.  Many of them are from Smiths Falls.

1.   The Mutt – potentially a family cross bread experiment gone wrong.  They are likely somewhat over OR under weight with a blue cheese odor, coke bottle glasses, and hair that rivals a straw sun hat.  I’ll say 12% of the population falls into this category (or 80% of the 1980’s).

2.   Deception – much like that terribly overrated Leo DiCaprio film Inception, a “2” is good from a far, but far from good.  Very fuckin’ far frankly.  From the other side of the gymnasium, you could swear this girl is legitimately fuckable.  Upon further review, she looks like that gap between your asshole and your nuts…not good.  If you get drunk enough, you’ll probably be willing to take it down, but you’ll never admit it to your friends.  Sadly, 20% of the population falls into this grouping.  Curiously, many of them are from England and Asia…

3.   Even Steven – they won’t impress you, but they also won’t disappoint.  If you don’t really care about getting routine hard-ons, this is where you should settle in.  They’ll make you breakfast on the weekends, do your laundry, and generally be your slave – no questions asked.  They know you are doing them a favour.  35% of the world’s population falls into category 3.

4.   Marriage Material – Great face, better body, and smells like what I imagine “Miggs” to sense when Clarice walked by his cell in Silence of the Lambs.  She is not “too hot”, so you don’t have to worry about her cheating on you.  As an additional bonus, she is also wicked smart and likely has a better career than you do.  20% of the world’s population falls into category.

5.   Roasting/Steaming/Blazing Hot – This creature appears to be the offspring of God himself and the IBM super computer (who I imagine to be a woman for this illustration).  She is so unbelievable that you start shaking at the knees and seeing the world like Monet.  In this moment, you wish had Jesus-like powers to turn this loaf of ass into baskets of fishes…errr. 

*Note – a bonus point can be applied to anyone in the 0-4 category if they pay for certain physical enhancements, like breast implants, tummy tucks, tongue rings.  This assumes, of course, that they hired a legitimate professional to complete the work vs. Dr. Taxi Driver working out of some back alley in china town.

Watch for the new lighthouse attendant rating scale website, where I simply plan to copy “hot or not” and collect advertising fees for banner ads and eventually pre-roles for the video content.

If you take any of this seriously and/or are offended by it, you probably enjoyed the “women’s studies” course in first year.  Here is a treat for you fucko.

Until we meet again.

The Six Week Coma. Las Vegas... The Aftermath.

Forgive me Internet, for I have sinned.  It has been 6 weeks since my last confession and/or blog post if you want to be a dick about it.  When I started writing this piece of crap several months ago, I promised myself (and all 6 of my friends) that I would be dedicated to the cause of promoting useless Internet content across the globe.  It was with this resolve and commitment that I thought of myself as less of a writer and more of an Olympic athlete, continuing to up the ante with more and more ridiculously insane accomplishments.  Well, I guess the fame got to my head and I "got away from my roots".  Sort of like this little bit of comedic genius...or as I like to call it "before The Mask ruined everything":

God, I love the world wide web...

Anyway, apparently I don't have the same level of commitment that I thought I did.  I'm ashamed to admit that a combination of summer activities, drinking and smoking like Andrew Dice Clay, and an insane job have all but sucked up every second of my time over the past month and a half.  Having said that, all is not lost for I have sucked the teet of greatness many times during the summer of my discontent. 

It all started with my first (and last) trip to Las Vegas (aka a much better Niagara Falls, minus the water falls and reasonable weather).  This trip started out as strictly business, but ended up with a severe case of dehydration, chronic fatigue syndrome, Alzheimer's, and a rash that continues to puzzle doctors.  Despite the ongoing medical issues, I have to admit that I recommend this as a destination for those willing to spend some serious $$$ to have a great time.  I'm probably not cool enough to speak of such things like the In-N-Out Burger, snorting cocaine off hookers, throwing cash in the air at the bar, or dropping ten grrr on roulette, so I'll leave the cool aspects of Vegas to Tucker Max and proceed with my cynical viewpoint (shocker alert).  Here we go:

• Plastic and/or Wax History - It is true what they say about the desert, be warned of the mirage.  Instead of a palm tree and a camel drinking from a pool of water, the mirage is actually a city called Las Vegas.  A city which simply rips off all the good it can find from other places in the world.  The Venetian?  Simply a plastic and concrete replica of Venice.  New York New York?  Can you say Genius! Genius!  I did.  The Luxor?  A photocopy of the pyramids.  Rumour has it they have entombed Elvis here.  If you don't care about seeing the real thing, this is a great way to tour the world while never leaving the strip I guess...
• Dirty Slots - I've read many times about the amount of fecal matter embedded into movie theatre seats, but I've never really seen anything that addresses how disgusting a slot machine is.  #1.  Take a look at the people who play slot machines routinely.  They are just gross.  Even the "second class" citizens have voted these people off the island.  #2.  When do these machines get cleaned?  I've never seen it happen.  The casinos are basically open all the time every day, so I shutter to think what type of bacteria exists on the surface of the penny slots, or the Wheel of Fortune machines... 
• Foot Tapping Tunes - word to the wise people, don't stay in The Venetian.  Although it is a freakin' beautiful casino/hotel/mall/resort, they play show tunes on a loop for the entire duration of your stay.  Give me Phantom of the Opera...No?  Give me Jersey Boys... No?  Give me Les Miserables... insanity.  The only thing worse than the music are the people that actually enjoy it.  Consider the elevator ride with the cliche overweight lesbian who just effin loves everything AL Webber... it smells like Tide detergent and is generally not cool.
• United Nations For Retarded People - Vegas presents a sampling of travellers from all over the planet.  Asians, Australians, Aspergers (wait...), Germans, South Americans, Jehovah's Witnesses (wait...), Russians, Swedes, Taliban's (wait...)...  It is great to see so many countries, religions, or philosophical points of view coming together to enjoy each others company... However, I gotta say that these people aren't necessarily the best of the best from their particular "group".  They are the definition of "don't judge a book by it's cover".  In fact, I'm 90% sure that the vast majority of them are pretentious illiterates...
• You Just Gotta Spend - now being the man whore that I am, I've witnessed or played the starring role in many an orgy (huh...hummm).  However, I've never seen so many people literally blow loads of money and bodily fluids in retail malls, stores, outlets, casinos, and so on.  I watched one 19 year old kid blow $7K at a black jack table in 15 minutes.  No shit.  I think he may have shot himself after, but it was tough to be sure based on the condition of the remains.  I guess somebody forgot to tell visitors of Vegas that the worldwide economic crisis ain't over yet or some guy named Vinny is presently "repoing" their house. 
• Paparazzi - this is the only city I've ever been to where white people out number the Asians in terms of camera use.  Who wants to remember their time there anyway?  Hide the fuckin evidence.
• Does Anyone Cook Their Own Food? - I counted.  You can't take more than 12 steps without hitting a place that serves food (or hookers, which arguably is the same thing).  Upon further review, there is actually one restaurant for every 25 full time residents in Las Vegas.  When you consider the total number of unsuspecting tourists who fly into this great city each day, I suppose the # of restaurants is appropriate.
• Hooker Trading Cards - also known as excellent "coasters" for the bar in your home, hooker trading cards are routinely handed out by Filipino nationals who have decided to flee the beauty of their home country for the filth of Las Vegas (and the promise of more $).  Nice move.  I struggle to understand why any guy would feel the need to pay for sex in a city where it is almost an automatic.  You just need to show up with a decent pair of pants and shoes.

I actually checked myself into emergency right after the flight.  No, it wasn't for the rash.  That came later like the butterfly effect.  It was for an unrelated injury sustained when a large rock decided to land on my hand while building a sacrificial bonfire, turning my hand into a new school version of the elephant man's face.



Be that as it may, I am back to 75% health (aka normal) and back in training for the Oly's.   Look for me to get back to championship form in the coming days/weeks, or until I fall back into a Las Vegas coma.



Signs...That Your Parents Have Morphed Into Your Grandparents

I think it is fair to say that most people grow up under the assumption that they would prefer NOT to be like their parents.  Of course, we all want to keep the good things that our parents have passed on to us, but we want to avoid the negative traps, like their obsessions over the quality of the front lawn.  Inevitably, however, good old genetics kick in and we slowly start the process of evolving from fetus to old man/woman driving a Buick town car, just like mommy and daddy did.

Think about your own parents for a second.  How many times over the course of your childhood did you hear them say that they NEVER want to be like their mother or their father...blah...blah...blah (ex. I will never refer to "left-overs" as a feast... or I'll never be upset if the music is too loud).  I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that, depending on how old you (and by extension your parents are), they are likely either partly or fully on their way to becoming their parents (aka your grandparents). 

I've spent the last three weeks researching this topic, and have found a number of distinct "signs that your parents are in fact morphing into your grandparents".  Here are a few that have jumped off the page for me, in terms of not being overly predictable and/or routine old people references:

• The Dog Threesome - this only applies if the children have actually moved out of the house, as the dog becomes the replacement for a departed family.  The mother needs to care for something (now that the kids don't give a fuck anymore) and the dog fits the bill.  Similarly, the father needs to feel positive reinforcement from the dog, as it looks up at him in great awe of his obvious physical talents.  Sooner or later, this same dog will join the happy couple in the family bed, taking up the interior of the spoon position with mom or dad (usually swapping back and forth all night long).

• A Sudden AND/OR Revitalized Commitment To The Lord - I suppose if you can hear the reaper knocking, it may only be natural to explore what all this religious bs is about...just in case.  You can't blame them for it, but they hated it when their parents hit this stage.  When you receive a card or email from one of your parents quoting the bible or they hang a ten commandments sign in their bathroom (only readable if shitting on the toilet), you know they have focused at least some of their energy on the good lord.

• Fad Diets - the metabolism has come to a screeching halt and the pounds are being added to their frame like Jared from Subway when he stopped eating subs for every meal.  They'll try every fad diet known to man to try and prevent the inevitable from occurring (getting fat).  Atkins, The Zone, South Beach, Low Fat, Low Carb, Detox...JFK blown away what else do I have to say...we didn't start the fire...

• Gardening & The Grass - look out nurseries and landscaping supply stores, here come my parents!  Give me some shrubs, some annuals, a load of mulch, some flagstone, a statue of St. Francis (the patron saint of animals and the environment), some more plants, and finally a huge tub of chemicals to kill those weeds in my lawn.  With no sex drive and little else to fill their minds and time, gardening becomes their brand new bitch. 

• Get Y'er Hats Here - remember how your grandparents seemed to obsessively wear hats when you were a kid?  Well, now your parents are doing it.  Just like their mom and dad, they are opting for head dress that was fashionable in "their day" vs. "today".  Watch for mother to invest in some sort of "celebration of the life of Princess Diana hat", while dad will go with something fit for Crocodile Dundee.

• Nostalgia...OR Is It Early-Onset Alzheimer's - this stage is typically defined by a romancing of all things found in the past, regardless of whether or not they were actually good at the time.  The present becomes irrelevant and ignored.  Some examples include:
• Music - a longing for Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, The Beach Boys, or Lionel Ritchie
• TV/Movies - sudden interest in bringing out the old VCR and watching tapes of the Andy Griffith Show, The Honeymooners, or the movie On Golden Pond
• Photo Albums and Home Movies - frequent travels back in time through a collage of images and sounds (real or perceived). 
• It should be noted here that if this stage is accompanied by bouts of confusion and bed wetting, you may want to take your mom and/or dad to see a doctor.

• The Pre-Death Final Will & Testament Draft - this is where the rubber really hits the road and you find out where you rank in the hearts of your parents vs your siblings (assuming you have them).  If this hasn't happened to you yet, it will.  One day you'll receive a call from your parents asking for you to come over for a family meeting.  The family meeting, of course, is nothing more than a free yard sale of the crap your parents have collected over the years.  Rather than a free for all, the structure of the NHL entry draft is applied to ensure fair distribution of the assets (or junk).  The only catch here is you don't actually get any of the items you draft, until your parents "pass-on".  A typical draft involving a family of 5 (3 kids) will see the the following rankings:
• First Pick - typically given to the youngest child.  The truth is, they do love the youngest child more than the others.  It was their last chance to play mommy and daddy, and they're hanging on to it come hell or high water.  This favouritism is disguised as "helping out the youngest", but that disguise tends to wear thin when the youngest passes the age of majority.
• Second Pick - typically given to the oldest child.  The rationale here - they were here first, but have had more time to build up assets.
• Third Pick - the middle child.  Now, what the fuck is their name anyway?  Oh the poor, poor middle child.  Always forgotten, or so they tell their psychiatrist every week.  I suppose getting last pick in the draft will help to solidify this feeling for the remainder of their days.  If any of the three kids has a substance abuse problem, this is probably the one.

Although completely off topic, I imagine the pre-death draft to go something like what is depicted in the clip below from the Chapelle Show - The Race Draft:

There are many other signs that we could discuss here, like the propensity we all have to become alcoholics as we get closer to seniority,  but I think I'll call it a day.  Find the humour in watching your parents cross-over into becoming their parents - it is only a matter of time before the same thing happens to you...

#turningintoyourparentsain'tsobad

Getting Married? Don't Invite Me.

Let me start this off by admitting what you probably already guessed from the killer title of this blog, I hate fucking weddings.  I loathe them.  Why?  Well, given my own dysfunctional family experience, I’m generally against the union of 2 human beings and the resulting offspring that are sure to be corrupted by flawed genetics and alcoholism.  Wait, I think I’m just referring to my own family here.  For example, check out the following video footage from the intervention we had for my mother…

In case you are wondering, that guy in the cut-off jean shorts is my Uncle Steve, formerly known as Aunt Linda. 

Anyway, let's get on with it.  Aside from your property tax bill, what is the worst piece of mail you can receive?  No, it is not the CD or DVD from Columbia House that you will never return and pay double for, it is the wedding invitation.  A wedding invitation is like getting a bill for a minimum of $150 (but more likely at least $500) just because someone you know decided to get married. 

Personally, I begin to experience symptoms of nausea from the minute I hear that someone I know is getting married.  You know the inevitable invitation is coming OR worse, the text or phone call from a friend who is planning to get married asking to “stand for them” in their “special day”.  In these difficult financial times…I’ve gone to the extent of weeding out any non-married friends and/or friends with future marriage potential.  I just can’t be bothered anymore and would rather end the friendship before the wedding invite comes.

Why do I feel this way?  Well, let’s examine the entire wedding experience, from engagement photos to dancing in some reception hall/room with your shirt off:

• The invitation – what a god damn waste of money and paper.  When will the green movement impact the wedding invitation.  I'd go with an e-vite (or did I already...).  Here are a few things that piss me off about the wedding invite
• The inclusion of an engagement photo.  Engagement photos tell me one thing and one thing only - the husband is especially pussy whipped.  See photo below.  Note to dudes - wearing a sweater in some park with your bride to be is gay.  Get it together.
• The lack of detail - we all only care about the following 2 things: 1) is it open bar, and 2) what is the spread?  Please skip the formalities moving forward and just tell us the time, place, and f & b options.  Note - If the answer is cash bar and chicken, decline the invite.
• The formality of the invite (ex. ...Together with their parents, Mr and Mrs. Smith & Mr. & Mrs Jones, request the pleasure of your company at 09:00 hours in Victoria Park) - newsflash, you are two regular people getting married.  Ditch the fairytale and invite me in "layman's terms".

• Selecting the wedding party - does the wedding party really reflect those close to the bride and groom OR are they the best political choices?  For example, how many times now do you see the brides brother on the side of the groom?  Do you think the groom really wants that prick there, probably not.  Luckily for me, I'll never be a best man as a) brides hate me, b) the groom knows I'll out him for some drunken night of slamming hookers or something to that effect.  This is an example of the role I would play in a wedding...

• A Ceremony of Rituals - let's cover this piece in segments
• Giving away the bride or pussy - I'm not sure how this ritual got started and I'm too lazy to read about it.  But, here is my take...the father officially passes off the bride to the groom and essentially in one motion gives his permission for the groom to "take her".  Think about that at the next wedding you attend.  It will make you feel weird.
• Objections? - I suppose your wedding guests need to be like references on a resume.  You need to be sure they will say good things about you and not fuck you.  Given this fact, can we save 1-2 minutes and just skip this part of the ceremony moving forward?
• The Vows - don't go with the meaningless crap that the priest has in his book, write your own.  Be like Larry David.

• The Sloppy Kiss? - "you may now kiss the bride".  Guess what father asshole, he already fucked her.  Since the world's gone to porn, maybe they should up the ante at the end of the wedding and go with some oral... grandma may have a heart attack...
• Signing The Register - can't this wait until later?  Don't make the rest of us sit around while you hover over each other signing a useless book.
• Cocktail Hour - arguably the best part of a wedding.  While the poor saps in the tuxedos and dresses sweat their balls and vagina's off during a photo shoot, the rest of us are taking the open bar for what we can.  I recommend double fisting vodka sodas and randomly making odd comments to the older people at the wedding. 
• Dinner Time - as referenced earlier, your options are typically chicken or chicken.  I get it, a safe choice.  Even the vegetarians may splurge and swallow a little bird so as not to make a scene on your special day.  Having said that, spend your $ on the catering.  Everybody remembers and enjoys a wedding with a special feast - don't fuck around.
• Speeches - again, this is better handled in the typical segments.
• The MC - this is usually the guy or girl that the bride or groom thinks is funny, but has enough cooth so as not to offend the more sophisticated individuals in the crowd.  Yes, I've never been an MC either damn it.  This person usually develops a massive ego as the night goes on, especially if they get a few early laughs from a recycled joke they found on youtube.
• Best Man - this is one of the easiest speeches you could ever write.  The formula is simple, insert story/joke from school/college, compliment them on the "man they've become", tell bride she looks beautiful.  You are done.  Or, you could go with something like this...

• The Made of Honour - typically, this speech is filled with random emotional outbursts, so nobody every really understands what she said anyway.  In case you can actually carry off a speech without crying the whole time, follow the best man formula but insert a line from a movie and/or reference something about soul mates.
• The Parents - usually one parent will deliver the speech on behalf of the parental unit.  This is because one parent is usually a coward and at terrible speaker.  Anyway, this speech usually involves an embarrassing story from the bride or groom's childhood, potentially a story about the Canada Cup, and lines like "welcome to the family".
• The Bride & Groom - typically an uncomfortable display of written/spoken affection for each other in front of the 150-200 people you claim to know best.  Very often you will see the bride and groom glow on about how much they love their "mommy and daddy", with lines like - "you are an inspiration", "I hope I can achieve 50% as much as you have", "I feel at home at your table", etc
• The First Dance - this is a good betting opportunity for the wedding guests.  The topic - did the bride and groom take dancing lessons or not?  Again, what kind of a groom would actually agree to taking dancing lessons.  Even though I suck at dancing (like Brandon from 90210), there is no chance I'd go to dance classes to learn "the waltz".

• The Bouquet Toss - ever noticed that all the fat chicks at the wedding get really competitive when the MC mentions the upcoming bouquet toss.  They look like a collection of Terry Tate's (the office linebacker) wearing a dress that fit them 5 years ago.

• The Garter Belt Toss - I can't take credit for this thought, but here was what was relayed to me on this topic recently - "ever notice how the crowd starts going ooooooohhhhhhh when the groom reaches up the brides dress to remove the garter belt?  It is like they all think he is about to sip from the pussy".  Enough said.

• The Daddy/Daughter Dance - this just makes me uncomfortable.  There is a weird "I want to have sex with you but I can't cause you are my daddy or daughter" vibe in the room.  Everyone feels it but buries it.  I bring it up to you now.  Sorry.
• Dance Mix 1992 - much like the food, the music that follows the formal part of the wedding will make or break the experience.  I'm ok with the typical format of catering to the old people first with songs like "The Twist" or the occasional Elvis tune that send old men to the floor with gyrating hips, but I do have to draw the line at songs like "Cotton Eyed Joe" or the "Macarena".  Having said that...

• Shirts Off - no wedding would be complete without the entire wedding party removing their shirts on the dance floor just prior to the end of the wedding.  Wait a minute, that was just once and it was the third worst moment in my life.  Don't worry Dad, it was a one time deal...

That was exhausting.  Probably more for you reading it than me writing it, but then again I don't really care about you.  So, please hold all wedding invites moving forward and move me to your B list, unless of course you don't expect a gift, have an open bar, and a gourment spread.

The End.