Walking into a marriage proposal...

Last weekend I ran into a marriage proposal and it was not very fun. The man had gotten down on his knees, and he was staring intently into her eyes. The gentle waterfall in the community pool was making a nice rippling sound and the stars were glittering in the sky. And then I jumped into the pool and ruined the moment. I don't even though if she had said yes to the big question, but I surmised that she had answered affirmatively because they were kissing passionately when I rose from the deep end of the pool.

Marriage proposals are exciting. It was the first marriage proposal I had ever encountered in my life. I didn't intentionally try to ruin their private moment, but I had just played tennis and had wanted to jump into my pool. I know that my splash was louder than normal because I had eaten pizza three days in a row and the crust had gone right to my rear end. I toweled off at the edge of the pool and congratulated the elated couple. They will always remember my whale-like splash as they look back to that special day when they decided to take the plunge into their new life. I was glad to be a part of it, and can't wait until I bump into another tender moment.

The nice killer...

It never fails when I hear an interview with a friend or an acquaintance of a murderer. The person who describes the murderer is always incredulous, often times over-exaggerating the disbelief. How can such a nice peaceful person commit such an atrocity? What happened in that tranquil mind that would make a person snap? The murderer was such a nice boy with no cares in the world. Blah. Blah. Blah.

We all are seeing murder stories race across our television. The homicidal maniac is never depicted in a bad light. People continually describe the lunatic as the nicest person in the world. One acquaintance of a recent murderer said: "I was shocked to find out the news. Just last week we were having tea in the city and he even opened the door for me on the way out of the restaurant. He just seemed so nice. I can't believe that he did this." It's time for people to wake up in this retarded society. It appears that most of these murderers don't have a mean bone in their bodies. Be careful of the nice ones. It is apparently just a facade...they all carry a vial of poison or a small ax in their back pocket.

2 pricks at my coffee shop...

The weather is finally cooling off a tad bit, and the outdoor patios at restaurants and coffee shops are in full swing at the moment. People can't get enough of the cool breezes and the perfect temperature to enjoy a lovely beverage or a meal. It is a small pleasure in life, but I see many people participating in it as if it were their last day on earth. An iced mocha with a dollop of whipped cream would do the trick in the final days on this planet.

Right now there are two pricks arguing next to me. The smallish man is pointing a finger at the tall woman. They are really getting heated and it it is nearly impossible for me to make sense of the plot in this novel. I am only on chapter three, but my concentration has been snapped by these two imbeciles. While they sip their tall iced coffees, their voices continue to raise to a very high crescendo. People are now looking at them--perhaps wondering why they needed to make a scene on such a beautiful day. Don't these people have any sense of decency? Why not just go back to the car and argue inside of it with the windows closed? This would make a lot more sense to me and save the ears of those innocent ones around them. Small pleasures can sometimes be ruined by idiotic people who deliberately take their problems to public places. Their minutiae ought to be solved in the privacy of their own basement.

Elbows on the table...please do

It used to be that children were considered demons if they placed their elbows on the table during suppertime. This is no longer true. In an age where children are misbehaving in ways that seemed unimaginable in the 1980s, boys and girls are being encouraged to put their elbows on the table if it might modify other deviant behaviors.

Placing one's elbows on the table is the least of many parents' worries these days. With the arrival of bloodcurdling video games, children are more prone to violence and bad language on a daily basis. Some young chaps will mutter mother fucker instead of whistling a sunny tune while walking down the street. These antisocial and gross behaviors are going on many of the lives of our young children. One of my teacher friends stated: "Considering the scope of how these children behave in and outside of a classroom, many parents should kiss the ground if their children are just putting their elbows on the table. I have some parents who can't stop their children from cutting themselves....they are only seven years old."

How am I driving?

The recession has brought about many bad things as people continue to be forced out of their homes. While some people are setting up makeshift tents in the woods, there are some people out there that are taking the time to pay attention to the road. Many drivers caught in traffic are now examining the bumper stickers of those in front of them and deliberating with a new sense of freedom. Those how am I driving bumper stickers are now gaining much attention. People are taking notes on their dashboard and then calling the numbers to report a bad driver even if the driver has done nothing wrong.

The how am I driving call centers have become flooded with phone calls. People of all walks of life have called in to report a suspicious driver or perhaps a kidnapper. Many how am I driving personnel have attributed the rise of phone calls to the number of unemployed in this country. One supervisor stated: "We receive many phone calls from unemployed people who have been on the road. A lot of them get back home and pile their nachos high before giving us a little ring. They have nothing better to do than to report a driver who may have stopped short because the person saw a stray dog crossing an intersection." How am I driving call centers have had trouble handling the spate of phone calls but do believe that a solid job outlook may directly influence the number of losers who call in to report a bad driver. Those numbers can surely dwindle once people start flipping burgers again...

Authors finding their readers weally stupid...

Many successful authors out there are finding that their readers are not intelligent. Some authors are now resorting to using colorful words in order to make their readers pay attention to the text. One out of three fiction readers claim that they skim on a regular basis--often times not picking up the gist of the plot. These skimmers are in several states and seem to be multiplying as the recession worsens. People are just not giving a fuck about anything anymore. A well-crafted sentence seems to be falling by the wayside. Readers don't plan on giving their full attention until the economy shows signs of improvement.

Some acclaimed authors are resorting to similar methods to gain their readers' interest. One author stated: "I usually provide a definition for my reader in the paragraph. I note that my reader is probably too stupid to get the word or perhaps too lazy to get off the couch to search for the definition." Providing definitions for the reading public has been gaining attention recently. Some defined words clearly underscore the stupidity of the reading public and question how many of the readers out there got through a high school English course. While authors continue to insert sentences like this one (You fucking moron...how could you not know that word?), readers remain unfazed by the insults and search for the meaning of their life in some of their favorite author's passages.

Wearing many hats not so fun...

A lot of employers these days are asking that their employees wear a number of hats. This is truly unfair and wee bit gay. I used to wear a number of hats when I was a teacher. I did not like doing it at all. I felt like one hat was a good fit for me. Apparently it was not good enough for my employer. My school administration wanted the most from me. They wanted to constantly pile different hats on my head and pay me the minimum amount of money. They wanted my blood.

Wearing multiple hats is not something that most people truly enjoy. A prospective employer once told me: "We wear a lot of hats around here. We hope you can do the same." I grew silent and lowered my head. I told him that one hat suited me just fine and that I wasn't much of a hat person. He told me that my attitude stunk and that he expected everything from me and would give little in return. I walked out of the office and felt that poverty was perhaps a better option. Wearing a bunch of hats is just not very fun at all.

Love at the coffee shop...ewww

My favorite coffee shop is being threatened by lovers from all corners of the earth. They are taking advantage of the furniture big time. Right now two lovers have their bare feet on the couch and it looks as though toe fungus is flaking off into the crevices. I wonder how often the management steam cleans the couches. I imagine it is not very often.

As the words pour onto this screen, the goateed man is rubbing his lover's toes. They are both staring into each other's eyes. She is talking rapidly with her hands. I think she might want to fuck him right here in plain view of everyone. It is hard to tell. His eyes are boring into hers; he is now playing with her big toe. This little piggy went to market, bitch.

She has a lovely coat of red toenail polish on her big toe. He continues to rub and rub. The enamel is strong. He has clasped her hand. She is moving closer...they kiss. I spill my coffee onto my keyboard. I almost retch, but I hold it back. He is taking a condom from his back pocket. I make a run for the door...

Buying bread now not so simple...

Over the past few weeks buying necessary items for survival has become impossible. Going to the store is no longer as fun as it was in 1999. It is sad to see one worker among twenty empty cash registers. Our country is fucked in the balloon knot, and must make a recovery at some point if we are to regain any semblance of sanity.

It is a shame that store clerks will not let me get away with my foodstuffs. There is always a trick question at the end of my purchase. It goes a lil something like this: "Would you like to make a donation to...?" My answer is always the same. I say no and take my belongings out of the store. I do not want to make a donation to a charity. I want my milk, my bread, and box of crackers. I want to make my purchase and be on my way. Does the management not know that we are in a recession? It's best to place a donation box at the front of the store to generate interest in the charity at hand. Leave the customer to his vegetables and fat free cottage cheese selections... Don't confuse the customer at the end; it's probable the customer already carried enough guilt into the store to begin with.

When your date reeks of vomit...

The dating world is getting tougher and tougher for single people. It appears as though people are just so gosh darn busy these days. Who has time to meet another person? Who can carve out an hour to listen to another person's bullshit and attempt to forge an intimate relationship? It has proven to be difficult. Single people are just having a tough go at things.

Last weekend I had the opportunity to take a female out to an early dinner. She had already popped out a few kids, and I was fine with the fact that her children were her world. I got that and will not take anything away from motherhood. It seems a most arduous and rewarding job that is best suited for someone else.

My date smelled like vomit. I had wondered the entire time if her daughter had thrown up on her purse. Was it crusty vomit flakes that adhered to her pocketbook strap? I had wondered... The smell had assaulted me and I thought about asking her if her little precious one had puked on her. I refrained from popping the question, and held my breath as much as I could. It was hard to do. Thank heavens the date did not last more than an hour or so. I could not stand the stench of her new fragrance, a vomit elixir.

The drunks chat me up...

Having a cocktail at my favorite bar has become nearly impossible. I have had the unfortunate luck of attracting the drunkard. He approaches me and leans over the bar to tell me his story. His breath his horrid and he is shouting at me, revealing to me a story I can never understand. I smile and pretend that I am listening to the freak show. Spit flies out of his mouth and sometimes he spills his drink atop the counter. He repeats his story over and over again, and I cannot escape.

I have now gone to the bar and set a little tip jar next to my cocktail. When a drunkard approaches me, he will have to place a couple of dollars into the jar so that I can lend him my ear for the ten minutes or so. I do not know why the drunkards are attracted to me, but it seems as though I have the knack for picking them up at the bars. My ears are not free anymore; they will have to place their bills into my little jar to get me to pay attention. I will save the little money from the tip jar to buy a little house plant to put onto my coffee table.

Hiding things under the mattress seemingly okay...

Hiding your prized possessions under the mattress is no longer a foolish thing to do. Many thieves refrain from looking under mattresses for valuable items. Robbers have known that people have protected their possessions in other nooks and crannies throughout the house. When pressed for time, most burglars will skip the mattress altogether. They know better.

One robber, who had been pilfering for ten years, said: "I would never look under the mattress for anything. I think people have gotten smarter. Ironically mattress stuffing is probably a safe thing to do now. None of us thieves will search there...it's too darn stupid." Many thieves across this great country now have come to the consensus that civilians should go back to the mattress as a safe spot. It had been the premiere hiding spot in 1989 and looks to make a resurgence in the months ahead.

Down boy...

Men are becoming more aggressive these days at the clubs and bars. Many men appear overeager to their female counterparts, and this is a monumental turn off. Women enjoy the enthusiasm, but are concerned when then the great enthusiasm morphs into a type of begging mentality. Some women claim that their enthusiasm is just a wee bit over the top. Essentially men who exhibit this type of behavior are not going to get any action and may have to resort to a late night drunken live porno stream on their computer.

I spoke to a pretty woman who shared with me her concern over a man's begging ways. She replied: "I have two words for those type of men...down boy!" It appears as though down boy does the trick and many men walk away with their tail between their legs and saliva dripping off of their chops. Down boy has been gaining popularity among pretty women, and there is little evidence that this expression may be obsolete until possibly 2012. A long blonde-haired woman said: "Just show me you are interested...but not too interested. I might give you a chance, but if you put your paws on me like a dog I might just have to throw you a bone and hope that you don't fetch it."

Being swept off your feet hard to do...

Some men have been claiming that it is more difficult to sweep women off their feet than it was years ago. Men are claiming that women are eating more, which makes their amorous advances a tad difficult. Being swept off your feet is not what it used to be. The pounds are adding up in many cases, and this proves difficult for some suitors.

I spoke to some men recently about this phenomenon. One average-looking gentleman responded: "Why is it that plump women are always available to do things? The pretty ones are always busy." A better-looking man replied to that: "Pretty women are always getting chased. They may have hundreds of texts a day and the reality is that every man in the universe is after them. They are booked solid. Basically, just take a number."

It appears as though plumper women have schedules that are far more open than prettier women. Although prettier women might be easier to sweep off their feet, it will be harder to do so given time restrictions and scheduling difficulties. One tall gentleman commented: "A larger woman asked me to sweep her off her feet. She claimed she was ready for love. I would have needed a crane to do that and renting those things is very expensive."

Diet soda breaks the bank...

We all love going to the movies. It had been awhile since I had seen a matinee, but I had taken one in the other day for the first time since the late 1980s. Tickets are cheaper during the day time, and a lot of senior citizens and other bored losers go to the movies to get a great deal or enjoy the theatre all to themselves. The empty theatre makes for great kissing or allows the losers to put their feet up (unlikely during a weekend night when most normal people head to the cinema).

I was appalled the other day to find out that my date's diet soda cost more than the movie ticket itself. How do cinema's get away with overcharging for a cup of soda? The saddest part of the overpriced soda was that it had been poured flat, and my date had to spit some of it out onto the ground. I had to go back to the counter to ask for another cup. Luckily, I did not have to fight my way through the crowd at 11:30 a.m., and the soda came back fizzy and full of carbonation. She was happy, but I was concerned that drink prices at the theatre had gone wild. Next time I plan to stuff my pockets with soda cans so that I'm not a victim of a mild raping at the cinema.

Loud snorers give ladies a shhhh headache...

It appears as though there are many people out there that snore in their sleep. Often deemed an older person's problem, this is no longer the case. Many men and women are snoring in their early twenties. Disgusting pigs. While there have been many products on the market that help with this issue, it seems that most people do not want to address their animalistic noises and would rather continue to snore like an elephant. Advertisements for snoring products have fallen largely on deaf ears.

The common shhhhh to tell your partner to curtail the snoring is no longer an option. The last person to say shhhhh was a mild-mannered baker in a nice section of New York City. This happened sometime around 1987 in the autumn. The shhhhh has been replaced with a more emphatic expression that is more with the times, namely shut the fuck up. Many people are in fact comfortable with telling their partner to shut the fuck up in the middle of the night. Some times a shut the fuck up might be followed by a pillow whacking to get the point across. One pretty woman, who sleeps on a water bed, commented: "Life is hard enough...if I can't get a decent night's sleep cause of his snoring, is there really a point in getting out of bed at all? He'll just have to learn how to shut the fuck up so I can get my beauty rest."

Medal of honor turns sour...

A friend of mine sits in traffic two hours in order to get to and from her job. I told her that she should receive the medal of honor. No one should put up with such a horror show to make a buck. It's just not worth it anymore. My friend apparently misconstrued the words 'medal of honor.' I thought I had it said it clearly, but it turns out that it came out like something else that was rather appalling. Samantha had said that after she got home she lit up a small joint and smoked the whole thing.

What happened was something that happens all over the place. People are talking with marbles in their mouth, and are not enunciating clearly. My medal of honor suggestion morphed into 'you should start smoking marijuana.' Samantha was clearly stoned out of her mind when I spoke to her later that night. She said that it was all my fault that she had rolled a joint. Samantha did later clarify that she felt real good. I guess it wasn't such a bad thing that a medal of honor can turn into doing something illegal. I thought about calling the cops on her. I'm sure that would solve her traffic problems, but I was too lazy to look for my phone.