If a phone rings...

Him: Mr. Marchisotto, where would you be if you died today?

Me: Um…acting as fertilizer for the tomatoes? I guess it depends on how I left things with the wife.

Him: O…K…

Me: Are you talking about arrangements for my body or is this about Jesus?

Him: Arent they really the same thing”? (I swear I can almost hear him winking.)

Me: No…no they’re not.

Him: Well, let me be clear.

Me: That would be nice

Him: I represent Reverend Avrom Clement Wopat and his Brilliant Light Church of Believers. We’re located in Gumline, Arkansas and we are about 97% sure the world is going to end next Wednesday. So we’re collecting the life savings from anyone who is crazy enough to stay on the phone with me for more than 5 minutes.

Me: It’s been a boring Sunday, you caught me off guard.

Him: Be that as it may. We are talking about your soul and how you can save it… guaranteed!

Me: Well I may hate myself for saying this…but how?

Him: I’m glad you asked.

Me: I’m not

Him: We have a 3-tier program for the faithful. On Tier 1, you donate $50 dollars and the Good Reverend will pray over your donation to ensure that you will be lifted up into God’s eternal kingdom come next Wednesday.

On Tier 2, you give us your life savings and in return you get a certificate stating that Jesus himself put you on the guest list in Heaven. You also get to skip the line if you say the secret phrase “Judas always throws the best dinner parties”.

On Tier 3 you give us everything you own and you get the free prayer, a $10 gift card for Starbucks and if the Rapture doesn’t come for some reason, we call you back to let you know when its been rescheduled for.

Me: Can I be honest with you?

Him: It's what Jesus would want.

Me: Your bizarre and confusing thesis intrigues me and I would like to subscribe to your insanity but all my money is tied up in frivolous crap like food and shelter. But while I have you on the line, can I borrow $20 bucks? Im sure the reverend knows Im good for it.

Him: *Click*.

Gee, I'd like to lend a hand but...

I'm at my desk speaking to a male co-worker.

One of the studio leaders comes in, he is in a suit.

GS: "Morning, Ladies".

Me: “…ladies?”

GS: Goes to his desk and gets an umbrella. Stops by my desk...

GS: "Im going to a funeral".

Me: "Sorry to hear that".

GS: "Yeah…we weren’t very close".

Me: “Oh”.

GS: "You dont have a shovel, do you”?

Me: “um…”

I thought baths were relaxing...

It's Thursday night...

I have just given Ava her bath and I’m getting her into PJ’s for bed. I finish drying her off and she leans forward and jams her hand down the front of my t-shirt:

Ava: “I think there’s some boobies in here”!

Me: “Stop that! There’s no boobies in there”.

Ava: “I think soooooooo…where are the nipples”?!

Me: What!...Stop it! Stay out of my shirt”.

Ava: “Where are the boobies”?!

Me: “I’m a dude, I don’t have boobies”!

Ava: (Very seriously) “But you have nipples, right Daddy”?

Me: sigh… “Yes… I have nipples”.

Ava: “SHOW ME THE NIPPLES”!

Me: “Never”!

And that concludes Masterpiece Theater’s showing of “Two Boobs, No Bra”.
I, of course, am your host Alistair Cooke.

C'mon...it's only once a year!

So the wife asked me what I would like for Father's Day. Let’s see…

7:00 am I should be awaked by the sound of a golden lute being played by you (you should be topless of course). Ava should be downstairs washing dishes and sweeping.

7:30 – Breakfast in bed, crepes, strawberries and fresh cream. You should move my jaw so I don't have to expend energy chewing.

8:00 – You should draw me a warm bubble bath and then wash me from head to toe, working especially on the feet to promote the Jesus Christ metaphor. Ava should be cleaning the pool of leaves.

8:30 – 9:30 – I will play Androids from Dimension X vs.The Space Zombies, a 3-act play populated entirely by my Legos.

10:00 – You drive me to the movies so I can see Green Lantern. I want a bag of Twizzlers, small popcorn, medium Dr. Pepper. You will stand in the back of the theater, if anyone dares to talk., you will sneak up behind them and strike then with a sock full of nickels. (You must supply your own nickels and sock).

1:00 pm – Lunch – Your choice of meal but it had better be perfect and if anything has mushrooms in it, I’m sending it back….frisbee-style.

2:00 – Nap. Ava should re-shingle the roof…quietly

3:00 – I must be awakened by you gently tugging on my yam bag. Please be gentle. Ava should be doing the recycling and if there’s time, re-paving the driveway.

4:00 – Nap.

5:30 – I should be awakened by the scent of chicken fried steak, biscuits and sawmill gravy wafting over me. Ava should set the table and do all the dishes.

6:00 – Dinner

7:00 – Evening Entertainment - you and Ava will act out The Empire Strikes Back, playing each and every part, reciting each line. I will play the part of Han Solo's TaunTaun. Please leave at least 3 hours for this including costume changes.

10:00 – Ava to bed. She’s earned it.

11:00 – Time to participate in Adult Evening Entertainment. Now it’s Dave’s time to shine.

12:00 – Good night.

And now it's just three payments of $9.95...

Amazon.com product review. For the Hirschmann Opus Titrator, 0.1 to 200 mL...

Title: Totally Redonkulous!

Review: Yo, check it! This titratin' device is the off the hook, fo shizzle! Now peep dis: It's Saturday night and you and yo lady just finished some takeout from Dragon MooShoo...that shit is the bomb, yo! The tunes is pumpin, you and your woman snuggle up and before you get a chance to get out your love hammer, she jumps up and says: "I gotta get back to the lab. I didnt finish my tittyrating"! or however you spell that shit.

Now yu can say, "slow your roll, lady, I got dis".

Then you bring her over to your table and show her the Hershbomn Opiss Titrator. You say lookeee here, this shit does up to 200 MILLILETERS! can you believe that?! I aint no punk, aint no damn way Im buying one o those crappy ones by Coulometric, their shit is wack"!

That's it... all you gotta do is lay back, watch the panties drop and wait for the magic to begin.

I'm out! Peace!

It's best not to think about it...

Me: Check out this picture...do you suppose they're still doing it? And if so… in what position?

Renee: GODDAMN!!! I just fast-forwarded 40 years from now. Thanks a lot.

Me: Cant you just picture him, waving his floppy floob around and saying “oh yeah, who’s your daddy”? And the woman thinking…”My daddy? He’s been dead for 135 years”.

No one should live like this...

An interview with Moonbeam YakSquat Waterfall: Freegan and modern hippie.

(not his real name but this is a real conversation with him verbatim.)

1. Are you married and do you have children? Would/does that change your lifestyle?

I am not married (not even dating currently) and I don’t have children. I would probably not get romantically involved with someone who did not share my concerns and convictions. That doesn’t mean that she (my future wife) would have to be freegan and/or eat the food I bring home (consciousness goes a long way)… but I doubt I’d let my partner’s scruples hinder my freegan activities either way. As far as children are concerned, I would not make lifestyle choices for my children that my wife was not in agreement with. So it would depend on her feelings regarding freeganism/vegetarianism/consumerism/etc.

Translation: I have been unable to find a woman who will put up with my lack of ambition and my inability to support myself thru legal means. There are not a lot of women out there who want to abandon being useful members of society and live with me and my many roommates in a filthy, city-subsidized Harlem apartment filled with the sad, dirty detritus one finds laying on every corner of the city. Also, women generally don’t want to recycle their own poop. And women generally want me to bathe at least a few times a week and I think that’s a waste of water. Also you get used to your own stink after a few weeks. If I had children, I would ruin their lives from the start by making them drink the soy milk I steal from Starbucks, consume the half eaten vegetables I get out of the trash behind Chipotle and wear clothes that I get from the bus station Lost and Found. They would be unable to attend school because they would have to perform with me in the Port Authority for 5 hours a day playing songs about Peace, Love and Understanding…three things that my pockets are full of cause there sure as shit aint no money in there. Also I don’t know the difference between the words consciousness and conscientious.

2. How do you handle medical and dental issues, especially here in NYC?

There are free clinics at NYU (downtown) and Columbia University (uptown). Perhaps there are more in other buroughs/parts of the city. I haven’t been to any of them yet, though I’ve been meaning to set up an appointment for the past couple months. I’m a young man with great health, as far as I can tell… hopefully that will be confirmed soon!

Translation: Despite the fact that I am constantly writing on my blog about how fatigued I am, I don’t believe it has anything to do with a diet that is maintained by eating trash and avoiding honest work. I don’t know where the money comes from for free clinics but I like telling people I live “off the grid” and am not a drain on society. I think that other people should pay for my medical care. I don’t see why I cant take advantage of hard working people who pay taxes, are productive members of society and don’t eat garbage.

3. How did you get used to traveling with no money? Doesn’t it scare the crap out of you?

Traveling with no money was quite easy to get used to… I didn’t have any other options! I first decided to hitch hike last summer when I realized that I needed to get to Miami (from nyc) but didn’t have any money. The only other way to travel that far with no money and relatively little time is to rideshare (unreliable) or to hop freight. I’ve never hopped freight before and I don’t know anyone who has. So hitch hiking was my only option, especially as I wanted to stop in a few cities along to way for shows. Hitch hiking is not as viable or reliable it used to be, as it should be.

Translation: Hitching a ride with potential murderers who may subject me to sexual assault is always interesting, and free! Hitch hiking is guaranteed in the Constitution, it comes after the right to substitute good hygiene for turning your shirt inside out and splashing some patchouli oil on to cover the stank. I like taking my chances with potential lunatics that will chop off my hands and feet and leave me to bleed to death near some county road in Kentucky.

4. Do you support programs like CityHarvest where food that is being thrown out is collected and distributed by groups, does that interfere with the people like yourself who collect foods on their own?

CityHarvest is great, but they don’t have enough resources to handle the amount of waste in NYC. There is more than enough for them, homeless people, and non-homeless people like myself who are simply concerned about the massive amount of waste in our society.

Translation: CityHarvest collects the pre-packaged and edible food from the restaurants in the city that have not been in a filthy steaming dumpster all day but there is still so much half eaten garbage out there, I cant control myself. Im salivating all over my dirty patchouli-stained dashiki…mmmm I just found some three week old tuna salad in my rats nest of a beard. Yum.

Things we cant say out loud...

Bum: Spare change?

Me: Spare…change”? What the fuck is spare change…you mean money I don’t need?

I need all my money. Is that why you’re a bum, did you give away so much “spare” change that you went broke? Well I don’t want that to happen to me so I'll just keep my money…the regular kind as well as the spare stuff.

Bum: “…”

Irony on line three for you, sir...

I find it immensely ironic that in our homophobic society,

the biggest news story is about a Boehner chasing a Weiner.

Yes... but will I fit into the Fit?

Car Dealership

My truck finally gave up the ghost recently. Apparently it was waiting until I spent the better part of million dollars in repairs before surrendering. I spent a good half hour cursing the truck, I may even have ripped the wipers off and jammed them in the tailpipe, you can supply your own Freudian analysis there.

I wiped the rage spittle from my chin and decided it was time to move on. I would be a better man, more of an adult, a responsible man…I would be a man who would subject himself to the colon-scraping fiasco we call a credit check all for the honor of taking on yet another monthly payment that will prevent me from retiring before I die.

On an unrelated note, the government now tells me that if I ever want to see any of my social security payments, I will have to continue to work even if I am dead. Perhaps by that time the impending Zombie Apocalypse will have arrived and I will be able to accommodate them.

Anyway…

So I ask the wife and daughter if they will pick me up at the bus stop. I tell them it will be easy to find me as I will be the one pissing on a 1994 Ford Ranger that has recently been set on fire.

15 minutes later they pick me up. So it’s off to the Honda dealership. I have done a ton of research and so has the wife…and somehow none of this will help me.

We arrive, the salesman gets our names and excuses himself to the office. He is reading our personal files from when we purchased our first car from this same dealership. He wants to sound like he is our friend…if my friends constantly touched my shoulder when we talked and then they took money out of my pocket.

He is so desperate to sound like our friend that the conversation sounds to an outside observer as if it had been written by a 45 year old virgin with ADD who is trying to ask an 18 year old waitress out.

That is, he doesn’t really seem to know anything about me personally, has some serious demented thoughts in his head and is unsure of how to approach me.

Steve looks to be mid-thirties, short hair, mustache style that is favored by 15 year olds who end up looking like a cross between 70’s porn star and lead singer in a Journey cover band. He seems to be sweating profusely, Im reasonably sure the manager has threatened to shoot him if he doesn’t make this sale.

Steve: So…dude…m uh Dan, can I call you Dan?

Me: No, you may not since my name is David.

Steve: Um excellent, Doug…liste… let me uh help you choose the right car. I wanna…

Me: (interrupting him before he sweats himself to death) Let me just be plain, I don’t drive more than few miles a day and a dozen or so on the weekend. I want to do a lease because buying makes no sense for me and the car I really want to test drive is the Honda Fit. I am willing to pay the taxes up front right now and I don’t want to spend more than 250 a month on the lease, taxes included.

Steve: Sam, I think I hear what you are saying….you want to purchase a Honda CR-V because you drive a great deal during the week and you say you can pay for the whole car in cash right now no matter the price I tell you…is that correct?

Me: OK...you don’t have any visible signs of head trauma so I'm going to operate under the theory that you are naturally stupid.

Ava: Daddy…stupid is a mean word.

Me: Yes, dear and normally I would agree with you but this man in front of us who appears to be on the verge of being strangled by his own sweaty shirt is in fact very stupid.

Ava: Can I have a juice box?

Me: Of course, (I wave at the dealership receptionist) Can you bring my daughter a juice box and perhaps a few towels for this specimen?

Steve: Thanks, it is a little warm in here.

Me: Ok, so let’s try again. Honda Fit… Lease…$250 a month.

Steve: Ok, Steve you’re really tying my hands here…how about if I give you the spare tire at a discount?

Me: Ok, first of all….your name is Steve. My name is David, a spare tire isn’t extra and I need to test drive the car if we are going to go any further with this fiasco.

Ava: Daddy what is fiasco?

Me: What we are enduring right now in this man’s presence.

Ava: Oh.

Steve: Great! Lets get you in the car and take her for a test drive!

Me: Ok but will you be in the car with me because I didn’t bring any anti-stupid spray with me.

Steve: Ha…that a good one Paul…can I call you Paul?

Me: Now you’re not even trying, are you Steve?

Steve: Yes I am.

Me: Go get the car, Steve.

Steve: I’m off!

Me: First true thing you’ve said tonight.

Steve brings the car around, I get in and am tempted to drive away without him but Im not certain if I will be able to get into reverse and back over his head as I have never driven this car before.

We go for a quick drive, he never stops talking the entire time and Im struck by the thought that there is never a violent carjacker around when you really need one.

I like the way the car handles, it is right for me, the price is good and I like the color. Ironically the only thing that stands between me and getting this car is the man who wants to sell it to me.

We exit the car.

Steve: So, Stan what did you think? She’s a beauty huh?

Me: Yes, except for the stupid-guy sized stains you left on the passenger seat, it's perfect. Do you have another silver one that hasn’t been fouled by your overactive sweat glands?

Steve: HAHA, that’s a good one Dave. (finally)

Me: Oy vey.

Steve goes into the back, we can see him in the managers office. They both appear to be yelling and waving their arms frantically. In fact, it does look like a very heated negotiation is going on. I can only hear a few choice words. I wanted to imagine it like this…

Manager: What! Are you insane? You get out there and tell him the lease is $594 per month and the spare tire is extra!

Steve: No way! Phil is an awesome guy, we have to help him get this car. It’s our duty!

Manager: I thought his name was Dave? Nevermind…You go out there and tell him I wont go lower than $589 per month! And he has to take the silver one you sweated all over!

Steve: NEVER! I’m fighting for the honest guy here. I must do all I can to get him behind the wheel of this fine automobile.

Manager: Get out, you weenie!

However, what actually was happening was this…

Manager: What! Are you insane? I told you not to touch my egg salad sandwich, that’s my lunch!

Steve: I didn’t have a chance to get lunch, come on!

Manager: You go out there just like I did and spend $5.89 at the deli and get your own lunch!

Steve: NEVER!

Manager: Get out, you weenie!

So Steve comes out shaking his head and tells me the price. I tell him Ill take it in the ass on the roof of the Empire State Building before I pay $589 a month for a car I don’t even get to keep.

We go back and forth for a while, Steve going into the office and pretending to shout at the manager, the manager pretending to shout at him. After about 30 minutes, he comes back out and offers me $267 a month which I accept so long as he throws in the spare tire and agrees never to speak to me ever again so long as he lives.

He turns and gives the manager a thumbs up. I give them both the finger and sign the contract.

Am I out of fashion?

Fashion is literally a thing in and of itself…most people cant afford the work shown on fashion runways. You must be easily fooled by pretty words and shiny things and in many cases, unless you have a very particular shape, you couldn’t hope to wear any of it anyway.

I have studied many fashion photos and I can now reveal to you what that shape is…

…an alien.

Yes that’s correct, the people who are able to wear haute couture must be 8 feet tall and weigh no more than 71 lbs. Their head must bobble around from the lack of working central nervous system, they must have more than 2 arms and perhaps an actual tail. They must have a neck that is at least 18” long and their arms and legs must be so spindly that they should appear at cocktail parties as if they are actually marionettes being attended to by a very sloppy and bored puppeteer.

Now read on in amazement. These are real quotes from press releases sent out by designers during 2010…

Mr. Katra's latest fresh designs mingle colors with the changing pleasure of light.

What the hell does that mean? What is the “changing pleasure of light”. Light is energy, it's not alive, it doesnt have feelings. It doesn’t enjoy coffee or good orgasms…It’s like saying the “diverse smells of eyelashes”. That’s just as stupid.

Mr. Khansa has shaped his vision of fashion by taming nature’s diversity and customizing it in a classic original silhouette to fit every woman’s perception of beauty.

How do you tame diversity? Isnt that what the Nazis got started on? In order to tame diversity you have to make everything similar to everything else. You have to remove that which is different. How can you possibly sell your product as being unique by saying your work is the same as everyone else’s?

Mr. Guisso' s recent collection radiated with the essence and hope of the season evoking a garden of aromatic flowers or the notes of a melody celebrating beauty. The romantic and rather bohemian collection reflected the harmony the designer sees in the elderflower.

If you get that shaken up by an elderflower, I suggest you see someone about a change to your medication levels. Because they are clearly not right for you. Also have you even seen elderflower? From anything more than a foot away, it looks like someone’s dandruff.

Katya says ‘Beautiful Garbage’ supports the collection’s altruistic attitude, by which the value of beauty is not found in the "preciousness of the material," but rather, "the beauty a woman finds within herself."

…what?

Ms. Desai has combined her knowledge of plastics with her unique style and cultural flare to create a new avenue for fashion “Plastics are what make this world possible," says the designer. "And in order for us to preserve Mother Earth we must make every effort to make plastics even more possible and sustainable than they are today."

Jumping Jesus’ Jockstrap…what the hell! First of all, there is no such thing as “Cultural flare’ unless we are talking about lighting a chinese or hispanic person on fire. The word is “flair”. Second, plastics are largely responsible for more damage worldwide to soil and water than waste runoff from nuclear power plants. They are by definition not sustainable and this sounds like an attempt to excuse poorly chosen materials for her clothing. Lastly, you cant make something that already exists “more possible”. Ugh I don’t even know where to begin with that, something is possible or it isn’t, something cant be more possible…more possible than what?

So what have we learned today, kiddies? Well, I'll tell you. High fashion like you’ve seen described here can be summed up in a single word…

…and that word is “stupid”.

The people who create this garbage put all this effort and money into something that by it’s very nature will be considered boring and useless in less than a year’s time. Kind of like Rob Schnieder’s career.

But seriously, every year in NYC, tons of people gather to watch a seemingly endless parade of imbeciles draped in random fabrics - looking for all the world like a homeless person who has stumbled into a used rug sale - march up and down runways while famous people sit on the sides gawking and then rambling on and on about how these designers are geniuses right up there with Michelangelo when in reality they are just hoping to get some free clothes.

I mean have you ever really looked at Karl Lagerfeld? It’s like he was created from cinema leftovers…take Blofeld from the James Bond movies and toss in one of those wacky albino twins from the Matrix movies with maybe a touch of Rotwang from Metropolis thrown in there for good measure.

And voila! A sunglass wearing, aged wackaloon who wears black jeans, cowboy boots and gloves even in the dead of summer.

And if you need further proof of how out of touch this guys is, this is his response when he was asked about today’s technology…

“Facebook is a flawless object. It's for me like a Brancusi. As I told you, I got one as a gift in gold -- in white gold. And the BlackBerry too, and the iPod. I have all those from a gift, I wouldn't buy it. But somebody gave me all those things in white gold. They are beautiful objects on the table -- they are stunning. I don't use them because I don't have to use them”.

And that friends in the very definition of a WTF moment.