My Thoughts on a Few Things

Being that I spend much of my time alone in a grocery store, I have had a good amount of time to think of how I feel about certain things. Here are those things. 

1) Arm-band Tattoos- Though I am a big fan of the early 90's, there are some things that were just a bad idea. Arm-band tattoos is one of them. Question: Who thought it would be badass/cool/a good idea to get a tattoo of barb wire around your biceps? Answer: Anyone who was 18 between the years of 1990 and 1995. I'm sure that at the time the prospect of sporting barb wire on your body was magnificent. All the other dudes at the gym would totally respect/fear you more. Girls would swoon, and their parents would obviously think that you could better protect their daughter. You could also score that clutch job and make your fortune as a Men's Health model. 

In reality, none of these things are true. Infact, the other dudes at the gym will secretly judge you, girls will judge you and their parents, that's right you guessed it, will judge you. As for the job as a Men's Health model, well, you just aren't what they're looking for. And they too will judge you. 

2) Speed Dating - Now, let me preface this this by saying that I have not been on a date in, well, a really long time. Therefore my authority on this topic is a bit compromised. With that said, Speed dating is a horrible idea. Even though I have not had a date for a long time, I still do have standards. It is hard to believe that people would try to find real love in 10 minute increments. I think you need more time to get to know someone than it takes you to eat 2 slices of pizza.  

Now, to add to my credibility, here is a list of places I would not pick a girl up from.

1) Bar/Club

2) Planned Parenthood

3) The Internet

4) Extra's Holding (that one is for my hollywood readers)

5) The waiting room of my Therapist's office. 

Go to a library, go food shopping, take a run in the park, or get a catalogue from overseas. My words of wisdom. Remember though, I am single.

3) Beatboxing - Awesome.

Those were the thoughts for the day. More to come, I promise.  

Pornstar Karaoke

Never in my life did I think that I would be in the same room with Ron Jeremy, Carlton from Fresh Prince and Joey Fatone at the same time. Also, never did I think that there would be something called, "Pornstar Karaoke."

The other night it was my friend Greg's birthday. For his birthday, he decided he wanted to go to Sardo's, a local bar, and attend Karaoke night. Now this is no ordinary karaoke night. This night is filled with collegian and silicone. Apparently, every tuesday night, after getting off...work, the local pornstars like to blow...off steam by singing a little ditty or two and taking two for one...kamikaze shots. (Yeah, I know the last one didn't work, but it's the rules of three.)

So, after work I stop home and do my usual song and dance about not being sure if I want to go out or not. I ask my friend Adam what I should do, and he gives me an open ended answer that does me no good at all. Soon enough, I decide I'm going. The threatening text from my housemate sped up the decision. So I put on a shirt, one I forgot I had, and left for the bar. 

Upon arriving I saw two very pretty ladies at the door. Pretty, but not pornstars. Damn. After getting my I.D. checked and hand stamped and my credit checked I was allowed to see my friends, who for the most part, have all arrived. To my dismay, there are no pornstars in the joint. I was promised stars of the porn variety, and someone better deliver. So I make my 'Hello' rounds and start casing the joint. The ratio in this place is not in my favor, unless I was looking for middle aged lonely men who wanted to lament about their lonely, lonely lives. Not tonight, Dr. Phil. Honestly, our group was the only one with girls in it. Now I know that I said there were two pretty girls at the door. They were either a plant, or the creepy dude who was giving out roses to all the 'lucky' ladies scared them off. Either is possible in this town. 

So after avoiding the waitress for as long as I could, she sneaks up behind me and gently whispers in my ear that there is a two drink minimum. Now, I didn't plan on drinking. I had to two the next day and I wanted to just be in bed. But, if I am going to pay for drinks at a bar, I am going to get drinks at a bar. So, I told her to bring me a beer, and moments later there is a cold Amstel in my hand. Great. 

Now karaoke is in full swing. And I mean it. Bad renditions of rap songs, and way too much 80's. I mean, I love the 80's. But I didn't even know most of these songs. Anyway. After talking to a few people, and eating a few mini-cupcakes, all preverbal hell breaks loose. At the same time; Ron, Carlton ( I don't know his real name), and Joey all walk in. I miss it because I am knee deep in the most delicious frosting I have ever tasted. My friends tell that Carlton and Joey went into the bathroom and I start to watch the door like a Hawk. To be honest, I could care less about Joey or Ron. I really just want to see that kid who was on Fresh Prince. After about 20 minutes of agonizing renditions of Eminem and Lifehouse, finally, Carlton exits the bathroom in all his now chunky glory. Boy, did he look...older. This night just got awesome, and there aren't even any pornstars there yet. (Other then Ron Jeremy, but I don't count him.) 

So all the dudes in the group decide to sing a song together and Bohemian  Rhapsody is the classic we decide to butcher. So there we are in front of about 200 people singing our hearts out. We were ok. Thats all I have to say. Some of us are better than other. Namely they were all better than me. That's ok, I have come to terms with it. But, during the whole song I can't help thinking that Carlton is hearing me sing. It is so odd to be in the same place as someone who you watched on TV as a child so often. 

Now, it was getting late (midnight). I was getting tired, so I decided to say my goodbyes. I made the rounds and gave one last disappointed look over the crowd. If they are going to call it Pornstar Karaoke, at least have some pornstars there. Really. False Advertisement.  However, as I am leaving I see that Ron Jeremy is sitting right behind us. Perched in a booth as if he were 10 years old watching a show on the animal planet. People were taking pictures with him, and he just looked so bored. I'm sure it gets old. But, as I am leaving I turn to him, hive him a look and say, "Dude, more people have seen your dick than know what the capitol of North Dakota is." He smiled. I smiled. 

I got in my car and drove home. All in all, it was a good night. However, I feel like I didn't get the whole experience. Next time, I sure hope there are some pornstars. Maybe they won't be to busy to do me...a favor and show up. (Again, not that good of a joke, but I did what I could.)

Clean Up On Aisle 6

So, for my living I do outside sales for the L.A. Times. This is my day job while I pursue a career in acting, for which I spent 4 cold years in western NY studying. This job entails me sitting in a grocery store and asking people if they "got their 20 bucks for their shopping." Most of the time I get a, "What?" Some times I get a, "Oh, no thanks." And sometimes I get threatened or called a Communist. 

Here is a tale I would love to recount for you now. 

"SWAG"

Now as part of the display, we at the L.A. Times like to wow our customers, so we place neon colored SWAG on the booth. These bright pencils and surfboard-bottle-opener-keychains do the trick to catch the eye. So much so, that often it is hard to get the homeless people to leave. They "haven't seen somethin' so pretty in days gon' by." ( the dialect is written in because not everyone know what someone with less then 6 teeth sounds like.) I usually have to bribe them to leave, however, this is only after they tell me the story of how they came to live on the streets with their cats. Don't get me wrong, I am somewhat compassionate. It's just that, if enough of them loiter around me, I too well end up homeless. At least I won't bother the L.A. Times guy while I am buying my white bread and Steel Reserve. 

But anyway, back to the point. For some reason, there is a certain people that loves to take the SWAG. And I don't mean just one for themselves, or for the little one in the cart next to them. No. I mean "3 of each color so that the kids don't fight." Granted, I don't pay for the free stuff, but it seems that if you don't get the paper, I don't offer you something that matches your outfit, or you didn't just yell at me and I'm trying to calm you down, you should not walk away from my booth with enough graphite to write a short novel. (Who uses pencils these days anyway? Ever hear of ink?) 

Now, SWAG also plays a big part in my day. Being that I spend around 6 hours in a grocery store talking to complete strangers, I have found ways to entertain myself. The first one being: hitting on pretty girls (even if they have kids). Now there are a few standard moves I like to pull, and believe me, I know none of them are smooth, cute, funny, or have ever worked. 

1) As a pretty girl walks past I hand her a bright pink pencil and say, "Oh my God, It's your favorite color. Don't thank me, just take it."

2) If a girl happens to be buying flowers I like to give her, what I like to call, the Jim Halpert face and say, "You know, It's really sweet you are buying me flowers. Your boyfriend would be mad if he found out."

3) This one I only use if the girl is really hot, and I am feeling somewhat brave. I get a quick look at what is in their cart. If they are buying some sort of meat I make a comment about not eating meat. When the girl asks, "What?" I say, "You're cooking us dinner tonight, right? I thought we had a date."

After these encounters the girl usually walks away with some sort of free junk I gave her, and I usually sit there. Alone. Without a new phone number.  Again, I know that none of these are lines that would work on anyone. But if you spent 6 hours in a freezing cold grocery store, you would hit on girls too. Unless you are a girl. Or maybe you still would. 

There are more tales from the Foodmart to come. 

The Start Of A New One Sided Conversation

In the footsteps in Sir Adam Kane, I have started a blog.

In the following entries I will recount the tales of my everyday life. 

Enjoy!