losing losers is a gain

Hi again it’s me your friend!

Lets just get right to it kay?

Stand-up joke I wrote yesterday, maybe possibly the most useful thing I did (aside from exercising then getting drunk on one glass of wine at dinner #lightweight):

A squirrel just watched me doing squats. Seriously watched me seriously into it. I need to adequately describe the moment with detail so that you get the humour of a squirrel watching a human do exercises.

Fuck it can’t be bothered.

He was a chubby squirrel, and cute, round, like they all are. Grey. He was eating something and staring at me, mesmerized, no, hypnotized!

I was squatting with my blue weights, which probably caught his eye or maybe my workoutfit did and the sun beating down into my window on me. I did a good twenty squats or so before realizing I was being watched.

Then all these thoughts flooded into my head about my life and maybe if I had one I wouldn’t be in a situation where squirrels were watching me all the livelong day. I could transcend squirrels and be watched by people, people wearing clothes going to jobs and living their lives. That fucking squirrel took me into the eye of myself and back again, shook me to my core that squirrel did.

The funniness of the situation struck me because we made eye contact and he knew that I knew that he acknowledged me as a living, breathing, being that day. He noticed me. What was he thinking man I dunno he’s a fucking squirrel he doesn’t care, he doesn’t “get” “it” nothing even matters to him and here I am having an existential crisis because my brain is eating and starving itself from this psychotic diet I am on and when you work out your mind is open and free like a desert.

If snow wasn’t everywhere right now I’d just go out running instead of trying to write humourous anecdotes about dumpster diving wildlife.

But so what! People love this crap. At least I think they do.

When I chose to write about my “laundry nemesis” years ago, the blog readers DIED for it. To this day I have Little Raymis referencing my laundry wars. It’s like the Seinfeld syndrome. People really relate and appreciate NOTHING. Your friend tells you a long drawn out story about an encounter in line at Starbucks and because your friend is funny and a drama magnet, this story has to be going somewhere right? Nope! Doesn’t have to and that’s the beauty you can take it anywhere when your brain is a non-stop running life dialogue and any person with the misfortune of getting into your hemisphere is granted their fifteen seconds. Lovely.

But anyway that is how you squeeze material out of a squirrel I guess I mean that’s how I just did it. Were any of you stroking your chins thinking “maaaaaaahvalous I just love these little pointless stories of whimsy..”

OR should I run down everything I thought about seeing Saul (Better call Saul fame!) on Jon Stewart as well as my opinions regarding Kathy Griffin and her Fashion Police show, more importantly, Kelly Osbourne’s mohawk (which she only seems to have done once?) God it’s so easy to just think, talk, and consume shit. Why is trash tv so easy to suck you in? Don’t answer, it’s rhetorical.

I also checked out some Louis CK last night and any time I watch stand-up comedians I study absolutely everything about them. Must be nice to be in your stride and never fuck up. I noticed in the audience that all his fans, the hefty white dudes particularly in the audience all sit with their arms insecurely crossed over their stomachs. It was distracting me from his material (of which I have no memory because I was hosed on only one glass of red wine which is the second time I have told you now and I am most definitely drunk still probably as well as sleep-deprived which means brain scrambled my favourite time to blog) but anyway, clearly my future stand-up fanbase will be comprised of look-a-like me’s I cannot wait.

Like how Gwen Stefani said at No Doubt shows the audience is full of Gwens. Her ego must be through the roof, sorry but you didn’t invent platinum hair Gwen or wearing tons of makeup with red lipstick but you certainly look the best at it so fine, you win.

I’m totally listening to Fashion Police in the BG right now. So jealous I want a job where I can just talk shit about everyone all day and say, “excuse me” “thank you” when I point out fashion flaws. Actually, I’d rather target the hosts instead because I don’t think you can make fun of women on the red carpet when your own old lady chicken under arm skin and multi-lined armpits are hanging out of your over-sequined dress and your hair is fourteen different tones of orange and blond, Kathy.

Or how Kelly absolutely fellates anyone who is “hot right now” who appears on the carpet no matter how stupid their look actually is. Ooh my blood is boiling she just made a dig about Jennifer Aniston’s boobs seeing red gotta go, I have given enough of my brain to this already. Thank you bye.

Bonus joke from yesterday: Neverland Ranch sauce frachise. Boom.

One more thing, I sent a body update (nude) photo to “my future/new boss” and was asked if I had a trainer which I interpreted as NEED a trainer because I am a blob and was suffering internally from an identity crisis (as usual) this whole time until the clarification thumbs up/good work email came in. Time for some sit-ups!

Have a great Friday, come help me pack.