Ask Problem guy!

Dear PG,

I've made a real mess of things with my girlfriend. Last Saturday I planned a romantic evening for us and everything that could have gone wrong did.

I put on some smooth Barry White (The Greatest Hits, featuring "Please, Baby, Please Let Me Get In The Back Door"), lit candles everywhere, drenched the floor with rose petals from the front door to the bedroom.

Burned some incense (Oregano Supreme), brought out the lotions (a choice of Strawberry Fondue or Mint Clam Chowder), put on my smoking jacket, trimmed my boys and I was ready to go.

Well, here's what happened. My girlfriend dropped her keys outside the door and I though she was knocking, so when I opened it, I tripped over her into the hallway. On my back, the "boys" were exposed and the McFeeny's cat from down the hall jumped on my crotch and scratched them up. I screamed like a girl.

My girlfriend tried to help me up and caught the doorknob with her face and went down like a sack of rocks. I jumped up and picked her up off the floor. When I stepped through the door, I slipped on the rose petals and shot across the room, tossing my girlfriend into the lit candles which set the living room on fire.

I found my way to the kitchen but the fire extingushier was gone so I grabbed the nearest thing which was a bottle of cognac which set the rest of the apartment ablaze.

The last thing I remember was my girlfriend giving me the finger as she left. I woke up outside on the street getting mouth to mouth from a huge paramedic whose nickname is Juggernaut and now has a giant crush on me.

So how do I get smoke and soot stains out of my drapes?

Advice: You soak the drapes in equal parts tomato sauce, Liquid Plumbr, seltzer and a dash of Paprika. Hang them to dry in the hot sun until the stench draws the attention of The Department of Public Health. After you pay the fine, toss the drapes out and buy new ones.

Wallpaper...

Today my design firm hosted The History of Wallpaper. As I am a lowly studio coordinator, I was not invited. So I had to imagine what the lecture was like.

I think it may have gone exactly like this...

Hello everyone and thank you for having me here today...otherwise I might have to go out and get a real job. So let's begin.

Wallpaper… What is it, where does it come from and how can I convince you people to pay me upwards of $45 per square foot of it. These questions and many more will be answered by the globe-spanning, time-vaulting epic of a story I like to call:

The History of Wallpaper.

291,267 BC…somewhere in North America

Oog works hard at creating the first living room. A place to kick back and relax after escaping from other neanderthals looking to smash his head open and feast on his tasty jelly-like brains. After exploring the other potential design elements of the room: the floor, the bay window and of course the prehistoric port cochere, he stumbles upon “the wall”. Yes, the wall…now he has a way to keep out unwanted guests as well as pave the way for his next great discovery, a way to hold up the ceiling.

1433…France

Francois Guy Richelieu de Poisson du Camembert de Champagne du Louis the XIV makes his way around his well-appointed 73 room summer home. Here in the grand opulence that he has become accustomed, here in a place so decadent that the walls are insulated with the feathers of a million endangered baby white geese stands Francois. As he sits down on his one-of-a-kind baby harp seal fur upholstered chair festooned with silk pillows he remarks to himself “What we need here is ta git some stuff up on these here walls”.*

*Probably sounds better in French, I imagine.

2009…New Jersey

Francine is crouched down on the floor scrubbing vigorously and vainly in an attempt to remove the permanent marker and jelly stains from the wall. They were left there by her obnoxious 6-year old son who clearly fancies himself the next Picasso. As she stands and looks back she thinks, wouldn’t it be great if I could just cover up this disgusting display of ink and foodstuff.

And thus was born the practice of smearing smelly and potentially cancer-causing adhesive all over our walls and covering them with sheets of paper often bearing patterns the likes of which must have been conceived in the hazy fever dream of an opium den addict.

The End

Stan Lee! Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me!

Destiny was on line one... the question is, would I accept the charges?

A few years ago, MTV was developing a new “reality” show called “Who Wants to Be a Superhero”.

A friend of mine heard about it and in an effort to get me to humiliate myself in public worse than the time when I jumped into a 40 degree swimming pool dressed in a Godzilla Costume, sent me the application.

Now, I’m as big a fanboy as the next “Batman-Underoos-wearing, directors-cut-watching, giant Galactus-action-figure-owning” guy so I figured I would fill it out.

I knew there would be a huge group of asshats who would take the thing too seriously and use it as an excuse to wear the costumes they usually ran around their mom’s basement in, so I figured I would just write something funny if only to give the producers something to read that wasn’t cribbed from the Stan Lee Prose Handbook.

I filled out the form, did a quick illustration of my character and then proceeded to write a script for the 5 minute video that was to accompany my application. I use “script” in the sense that if a dozen monkeys flung poop at a sheet of paper, that would have stunk less than what I wrote.

I cant remember the details but it came down to my character Captain Bloomers locked in mortal combat with his vile arch-nemesis Doctor EnormAss, played extremely badly by my gullible brother-in-law. Clearly this was going to be the craft of a cinematic genius. The kind of work that would cause Orson Welles to rise from the grave and (if everyone was lucky) kill me with a sock full of nickels.

Despite their denials, I want to thank my sister for helping handle the camera and my wife for creating the just primo, grade-A costume I'm seen wearing in the video. Thanks guys!

Obviously I didn’t have much of a budget. I set aside money for costumes for us both, bought an action figure that I painted to look like me for the “flying scenes” and then we set to work. Using a camcorder whose resolution was on a par with a 12” Philco TV from 1956, we shot 2 hours of footage.

I figured that would be enough to edit down to just 5 minutes. And if you believe that, you have never used a video camera at a family function. Im not sure what happens there but the second you turn on the camera, everyone turns into a spastic puppet with half their strings cut.

So despite the fact that I wrote directions simple enough to be understood by your average beagle, everything took longer, was more irritating and came out completely shitty.

I’m sure that some of the absolute badness was my fault… but mostly I blame everyone else involved.

So the basic plot was simple. Captain Bloomers is protecting his fair city. Doctor EnormAss shows up and threatens…Im not sure…threatens something… to someone and I step in to be the hero. Somewhere in this nausea-induced fever dream there was also:

1. A flying sequence where I “flew” the action figure in front of the lens during which you could see my hand holding the toy.

2. Some title cards for the credits shot ala Star Wars opening crawl.

3. A scene in which I leap from a (clearly in-frame) ladder, crash to the living room floor and cry out “…I’m Down!”

4. The finale which cleverly makes use of a semi-ripe cucumber, a black rag and some bread flour.

Mercifully, by this time we had run out of film and being that my camcorder was from 1989, there was no way to obtain any more video tapes, so we cleaned up and I threw my brother-in-law out. I sat myself down in front of my Mac and using some extremely low-fidelity equipment, I transferred the poorly lit, poorly budgeted and poor taste video to the computer.

What I found was astonishing. Despite all my worries and nervousness I had actually shot footage even worse than I could have prepared myself for. It was almost as if I had no understanding of scene, plot, timing, character or even the use of a tripod. What I saw looked like it was shot by a small, possibly feral, poorly educated child in the throes of a violent seizure. It looked like it was lit by flashlight, costumed by a blind man and produced for no more than twenty bucks.

Which was pretty close to the truth.

So armed with a bottle of gin, I set to my task. Once I cut out all the footage that was literally unusable (at least 99%... in fact there was a good 15 minute stretch where my brother-in-law filmed his own shoes for some reason). I was left with a smattering of very short scenes that appeared to have been scripted by someone who was so mentally altered, they could only hope to aspire to autism.

Unwilling to spend any more money and because I had no video editing /special effects software, I cut the scenes together and burned a DVD, which if ever found will most likely be used by the prosecution in my eventual sanity hearing.

A few weeks later, I got a message on my answering machine from MTV Networks. Of course I thought it was a joke at first but it turned out they loved the application and the video, said it was hysterical. Which is about as close as I’m going to get to praise on anything I ever churned out.

They said I had advanced to the next round and would have to fly to LA for a screen test and also to compete against some of the other random superidiots in some (and I quote) “feats of strength, agility and mental prowess”.

None of which I possess.

It was not to be. But, of course, you already knew that as there are no copies on YouTube of my insanely bad video where I jump around in a crappy costume and then turn into a cucumber.

A month after the call, I read online that the guys who originally came up with the idea for the show were suing MTV stating that they had pitched the idea and been turned down only to have MTV announce several weeks later that they were developing the same idea. All the entries including yours truly had to be junked and the whole process started over again.

I was certain I could not create a video better than what I had already done unless I fell victim to some sort of violent brain trauma so my dream was gone…

…And a little piece of me died that day.

I think my other cape is at the drycleaners

MTV/Sci-Fi Networks Application for Who Wants to Be A Superhero

Superhero Name:

Captain Bloomers

Non Superhero Identity and Occupation:

Ernie J. Scavullo, Veterinarian’s Assistant

Describe your superhero's physical appearance:

Captain Bloomers wears a fetching velour skintight outfit, with stylish shoulder pads, big ole boots and a really sweet cape, which always hangs at a rakish angle for publicity photos with babes that I have just rescued.

I have a mole on my left butt cheek. (At least I hope it’s a mole.)

6 foot 1, 240 lbs. – (Due to my losing battle with my arch nemesis Sam Adams.)

What 3 primary powers does your superhero have:

I can fly, of course. At speeds of almost 40 miles an hour!

Can tell at a glance if someone is wearing Boxers or Briefs.

Can spell really good.

What secondary abilities or skills does your superhero have:

Computer Game Wizard (I got to level 3 in Grand Theft Auto just this week!)

Amateur Chef. (I make a mean chicken broccoli casserole)

I have the uncanny ability to match my socks even in the dark.

What special weapons or tools does your superhero have:

An assortment of Atomic Underwear^® to hurl at my enemies. I keep them tucked into my waistband during epic battles and other Kirbyesque confrontations.

And I always keep my dry cleaning tickets (Big Frenchie’s, on Third Avenue) with me, otherwise I forget to pick up my other outfits.

What does your superhero do when not fighting crime:

Veterinarian Assistant. I am in charge of hamster vaccinations and litter box cleanout. I hope to move up to Guinea Pig vaccinations within the year.

Does your superhero have any talents or hobbies:

Nothing that I can discuss in polite company.

Does your superhero have any specific code of conduct, for example wont kill:

Won’t cry in front of a woman – (Unless we’re watching The Bridges of Madison County, I’m only human after all.)

Describe your superhero's personality:

Cheeky but with a sense of danger.

Smarmy but with a sense of whimsy.

I’m the type of guy who laughs at senior citizens who send soup back because it’s too hot. That always cracks me up.

How does your superhero transform:

I lean against a wall to pull on my boots and ask a passerby to tie on my cape. But sometimes I can do it all by myself.

What is your superhero's motivation, does he have any specific ambitions or goals:

I want to defeat evil in all it’s forms, whether it’s a battle with The Electric Wackaloon or evading an insurance salesman. My hope is to found a supergroup that will keep the world safe from evil or to open a Thomas Kinkade Gallery in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. (Those people are in desperate need of some quality art to hang up.)

Does your superhero have a sidekick:

Captain Bloomers works alone but I had a sidekick once, PantyWaist who died in a tragic Victoria's Secret panty sale “incident”. (I’m still too upset to talk about it.)

How does your superhero get around:

I can fly, but landings are real tricky (see my catch phrase below). Most times I take the number 44 bus, it goes right by my house.

What is your superhero's catchphrase:

Watch Your Butt!

What are your superhero's weaknesses:

Allergic to Penicillin. (I go into anaphylactic shock, it’s totally gross)

Highly susceptible to Cooties. (You get it from girls, you know.)

I get dizzy on roller coasters.

Where did your superhero get his powers:

I used to be Inspector 14 for a brand-name underwear manufacturer. During a freak accident, I fell into the elastic applicator machine and when I emerged, I was transformed forever more!

Please tell your superhero's backstory:

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was Bastille Day, 1971 and I had just gotten back from my break (having my bell-bottoms widened) when out of the blue we had a indoor cotton hailstorm. I now know it was caused by either a shower of Comic Rays or perhaps an gas explosion in the Elastic Applicator Room (where Ernie works, and he is a man who likes his mexican lunches, if you catch my drift - you know from El Gigundo Burrito where you get a dozen burritos and all the cheese you can carry for $4.99.) I leapt into action to see if anyone was hurt and upon entering the room, tripped into the Elastic Applicator Machine.

Somehow the unstable elastic molecules interacted with a few squirts of hot sauce (from Ernie's shirt – tragically all that was left of him.) Once I crawled from the wreckage, I found that I had a giant pair of bloomers bonded to my head. I designed a costume to match and I have been fighting evil ever since!

Anything else you want us to know?

As Stan Lee’s Number One Fan (by the way, anyone else who writes that is just a big fat liar), I am willing to have Stan Lee’s car waxed and detailed at my own expense weekly, maybe even daily.

And I’m not above shoe shining, doing laundry or offering my first-class services as Mr. Lee’s personal mustache groomer.

Also, I really need this job, my Mom wants me to move out of the basement ASAP.

I go to the movies when everyone is at work...

Lately the media have covered the changes occurring in the motion picture industry. Fears that DVD sales, affordable high-end video and sound systems and the speed at which films are released for purchase are somehow responsible for the drop in movie house attendance.

That’s not what’s turning people away. No, seriously. I’ll tell you what it is…

It has to do with spending concert-level prices just to purchase tickets, popcorn and a soda for two people and God help you if you have a couple of kids to bring along. And don’t get me started on the whole “we have no Small, Small is Medium" crap.

While I can no longer wear anything that is either small or medium, I know there is a difference.

It’s the 20 minutes of LOUD commercials that are played before the previews. Can I tell you that I have never wished burning white-hot death on anyone except the creators of the Fanta soft drink commercials. For sheer annoyance, there is nothing like it in the universe.

It’s the fact that some moviegoers can separate the trailers from the film and keep running their mouths and when asked to please be quiet, then inform you that these are just the trailers. When did people forget that they HAVE to act differently in public than when they are at home?

How is it that grown people, people who managed to get their pants on correctly, find their keys and drive to the theater without hitting anyone can watch the screen and see no less than 3 messages imploring them to turn off their cell phones and yet not be able to remember to do it?

And for that matter, why do people think its OK to take a call during a movie? Would you take a call during a funeral, a book reading, a wedding or during sex? (Paris Hilton is excluded from this question).

Why is it that parents with infants think that because they have found a way to tune out Baby Jessica’s wailing, that everyone around them can do it as well?

And what’s with parents who don’t read reviews or ratings PRIOR to attending a film so they can avoid exposing their child to something inappropriate. These same bozos then inform everyone they see for the next week how no one warned them that the film was “not for children”?

I’m not a genius, never been to MIT but even without the media coverage, I was certain that a 10-year old is not the appropriate audience for a movie like “Saw”.

I love film of all kinds, I have a library of over 1,000 films. I used to see almost any film that interested me but then I noticed how I was willing to separate those I would watch on the big screen from those I would rent or purchase.

I no longer go to films on weekends or any other time where the audience is littered with idiotic teenager who can't stop talking, old people who can't follow the film and pre-teens who can't sit in the same seat for the duration of the movie.

I have had my fill of crude, rude and obnoxious people. People who although they are over 21 are most certainly not adults. People who may have gone to school but are by no means educated. People who can read but are in no way intelligent.

These are the people that keep me from the theater. So while the movie theaters may be adding digital sound and projection, converting every frigging movie they can into 3D, dropping in more comfortable seats and a wider variety of snacks, these are not the problems to deal with. Here is the solution…

Before each film, post the following sign, a sort of Bill of Rights…

The Movie will start in 5 minutes, other than laughing or crying, SHUT YOUR MOUTH until you see the credits roll.

You are surrounded by OTHER PEOPLE who don’t care if you know the dialogue and don’t want to hear you say “watch this” every 3 minutes.

If you don’t like having your emotions manipulated DON’T GO TO THE MOVIES. People who laugh or say “gimme a break” during tender or sensitive portions of a film are complete imbeciles.

If your cell phone goes off, people near you may SMASH IT into little pieces.

If you take a call, people near you may SMASH YOU into little pieces.

If your child is loaded with soda and will need to PEE every 17 minutes, sit on the damn aisle.

If your child cannot shut up, let him watch movies at home until he understands how to act in public. Children’s movies are exempt from this.

Contrary to beliefs held by stupid people, your purchase of a ticket DOES NOT entitle you to force your opinion or commentary on those around you. SHUT UP.

If you are an OLD PERSON and hard of hearing, stay home. If you think you are yelling to the person next to you (who is also hard of hearing), then you probably are.

If you are in a theater in which a Special Needs group of kids are brought in, you have the choice to stay or leave. You MAY NOT STAY AND MAKE FUN OF PEOPLE. That makes you a PRICK.

Purchasing a ticket does not give you the right to act like the theater is YOUR living room, YOUR private toilet or YOUR kitchen. Public means you are NOT ALONE. SO ACT LIKE IT.

Thanks for listening.

Going my way?

How we streamlined the travel process at my firm…

The way this originally worked is that a team member came to me and told me the specifics of their travel. I would then research, create a series of options and bring them to the employee so they could choose what worked best. Generally this was a 20 minute process including the conversations between me and the traveler.

Apparently someone higher up (read: more time on their hands) at the firm thought it would be best to put a travel agency on retainer and to place another employee at my firm between me and that travel agent. This kind of process comes from one of those spectacularly stupid business manuals written by people who get into an absolute froth when creating company rules that make working here about as satisfying as masturbating with a cheese grater.

It used to be like this: Employee – Me – Research – Employee – Ticket purchase.
Total elapsed time Less than 20 minutes. Aggravation Level – Very Low

Only now I have the conversation with the employee and then have to feed all my information, questions and comments to this schmuck at the company and he then passes all that to the travel agent. This of course leads to an email shitstorm the likes of which has never been seen. On one of the debacles, there was (no joke) 59 emails back and forth to purchase a single ticket from NY to LA.

The new process is like this:

1. You tell Bob where and when you want to fly. Bob springs into action with all the speed of a blue whale attempting to ride a bike for the first time.

2. Two days pass…Bob emails the travel agent.

3. She tells Bob that we can save $11.57 if we book the flight immediately on AirKrupinski, an airline from a former communist regime so backward that they accept live chickens as passengers. There are some minor restrictions: You must fly at midnight, sit next to the non-functioning toilet on a three-legged folding chair and make stops in Sri Lanka, Ohio, Manitoba and The Kuiper Belt.

4. Two days pass…Bob calls me, mumbles a bit, then hangs up since he has forgotten why he called me.

5. One day passes…Bob emails me that he has passed on the information to the travel agent.

6. I tell Bob to tell the travel agent NOT to purchase the ticket as the employee cannot make that itinerary since they A. have not been inoculated against The Black Plague and B. do not own their own spacesuit.

7. Two days pass. Bob emails me a single line. "Itinerary is booked".

8. I stare a his email for a full 5 minutes, confused.

9. I email him back. "What do you mean, it's booked"?

10. Bob's response: "Who is this"?

11. I silently ask Jesus to smite Bob.

12. I email travel agent directly in hopes she has 3 to 4 more brain functioning cells than Bob. This may be a long-shot.

13. She says she has already booked the flight and if I want to make a change it will cost me an additional $2,871.58. She charges me $35 bucks for her fee.

14. She tells Bob to tell you that the flight is booked.

15. Bob sends you a confirmation telling you that the flight is booked.

16. Travel agent charges me $35 bucks.

17. Bob sends me a confirmation telling me that the flight is booked.

18. I email the travel agent and Bob, asking them to change the flight to one that allows the employee to return during the same calendar year in which they departed.

19. Both agent and Bob don't understand sarcasm, so they don't respond.

20. I email the travel agent (leaving Bob out so he may continue to focus on his other tasks…counting paperclips or something).

21. She says she can change the flight, however I must complete one task first . She says I must travel to Alturia and fight The Minotaur but all I will have is a Bic pen and a messy pile of unanswered emails to defend myself with.

22. I agree. I am desperate at this point.

23. Travel agent purchases new ticket, one that flies direct to LA from NY, but apparently occurred seven months ago, so lacking access to a functioning time machine I must ask her to "try again, Einstein".

24. Travel agent charges me $35 bucks.

25. Bob calls me.

26. I ignore Bob 's call.

27. Travel agent charges me $35 bucks.

28. Travel agent emails me and Bob with new itinerary. It is perfect…somehow.

29. Two days later, Bob calls to see if everything is, as he puts it "ok".

30. I tell Bob I wish a rabid wolverine would chomp on his genitals.

31. Bob becomes flustered and stammers for a solid 7 minutes.

32. I cant hear him as I have already hung up.

33. Travel agent charges me $35 bucks.

Total elapsed time: Slightly less than it takes dinosaur carcasses to turn into oil.
Aggravation level FUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKKKKKKK!

Wont you please give her a home...

Mrs. Butternickers was sired by Satan himself, on his forge of tears and pain. She is no fun, not spunky and weighs 2 lbs. We think she is 6,258 years old.

We took her in when the police found the remains of her owner. She is not amazingly cuddly and sweet. She is not good with other pets or children, wont walk on a leash and has been known to eat dogs as a snack.

Mrs. Butterknickers loves playing fetch with human femurs and should not be approached without body armor and a crotch guard. She refuses to be neutered or vaccinated and she ate the vintage loveseat in our waiting room.

If you are interested in fostering or adopting Mrs. Butterknickers, I suggest you seek immediate psychiatric attention.

Should we call child services...

Ava: My baby doesn't like you.

Me: I don't care, I don't like your baby. (I lean over and flick the dolls head)

Ava: Ooooohh. Im going to tell on you.

Me: Who are you gonna call, the police?

Ava: Yes... (Picks up a plastic Elmo phone).

"Hello police. You have to come get my Dad".

She pauses as if listening for the response.

Ava: "Why do you have to get him"?

Ava: "Cause he is a pain in the ass".

How many words can you type per minute...

I was asked by accounting the current status of an ex-employee...

Michele: David, who does Ivan work for?

Me: Ivan?... Ivan the Terrible?…I think he was one of those self-starter tyrants.

I don’t think they like to work for other people.

Michele: I hate you.

Blueberries, anyone?

A cheeky Invitation...

The Social Networking Invitation of the Decade!

1. Do you feel left out?

2. Are you so in desperate need of social significance that you troll the internet and try to make friends among the 168 million people who all claim to be someone cool but are in actuality 13-year old boys looking for photos of girls kissing?

3. Is your brain so damaged from staring at your FaceBook page that you think Sarah Palin is a viable choice for our government? Have you "friended' Sarah Palin? Did you wear protection?

4. Do you spend your Saturday nights plugged into your laptop trading stupid comments with other people in your social network while normal people are out drinking and having sweaty, freaky monkey-sex?

5. Do you spend lot of time alone at home? Do you touch yourself inappropriately?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, then worry no more! I have created the greatest social network ever...

ASSBOOK!

Yes, Assbook. The better alternative to FaceBook, a social network the likes of which has never been seen. See, when I was growing up, back during the Late Cretaceous Period, we had to physically go outside and make friends and then engage them in conversation.

Little did I know that years later most conversations would take place online and look like this ...

KewlDude: What's up, what's going on?

HotChik289: Nothing, how bout you?

KewlDude: Nothing

BoinkBoy212: WAZZUP!

KewlDude: What's up BoinkBoy?

HotChik289: What's going on?

BoinkBoy: Nothing, how bout you guys?

BoinkBoy212: WAZZUP!

BoinkBoy212: WAZZUP!

HotChik289: Nothing, how bout you?

KewlDude: Nothing.

BoinkBoy: Cool.

Isn't that riveting! What scintillating dialogue!

Well on AssBook, you don't have to worry about that, because we don't have anything like it. All we have is a picture of a giant ass for you to stare at for hours and hours. That way when your friends want to know why you are ignoring them, you'll have a good reason.

AssBook: The Future is Ignoring Reality and It Starts Today!