Monday, February 20, 2012

They Found Love in a Hopeless Place

So before this starts to spread any further, I have to address the rumors right here and now. Yes, I watched several episodes of The Bachelor OnDemand. No, I'm not proud of myself and to this day I'm not sure why I did it, especially since I have never watched any season of The Bachelor before this.

I mean, they just take some dude and surround him with 20 women in beautiful locations drinking expensive champagne. How is it possible not to fall in love with all of that? Well, if you look like a poor man's Rafael Nadal of course it is.

Plus, the show is flawed. Listen to the bachelors talk, and it is immediately clear he is getting lines fed to him through an ear piece. Men do not talk about deep emotional connections or about finding soul mates. Men talk about sports and Kate Upton's boobs.

Also, there is no way this guy is thinking of all these elaborate dates, where he takes a woman on a tour of tropical rainforests before eating caviar at the top of a mountain with violin music playing in the background as birds drop flower petals all around them. Men do not come up with dates that involve helicopters and cruise ships. A man's idea of a date is taking a girl to someplace that doesn't have a drive-thru window.

So in reality, these women are not falling in love with the bachelor. They are falling in love with whoever is feeding him lines and spending weeks planning elaborate dates (it's probably a woman anyway).

Since we're on the subject, let's talk about those women. First off, have you ever wondered why these perfectly good-looking women need to go on a cheesy reality show to get their own MTV show find true love? Because they all have one thing in common: they are deranged psychopaths. Sure some are better than others, but there is something wrong with all of their brains. Some of them make creepy scrapbooks. Some give play by play of their make-out sessions. Some of them try to rap.

But this season there is a woman this season who I am convinced is so evil and conniving that I am confident she will one day rule the world if she is not stopped. Her name is Courtney, and she is a supermodel while she isn't biting the heads off of kittens. Is she a hot underwear model? Yes, but she also clearly loonier than a Canadian dollar.

Now how is this different than 99% of women? Very good point, but normally men can detect when a woman is a few slices short of a pizza party. Sure, the hotter they are the longer it takes, but we normally notice before they stab us. But this Courtney chick is just too smart and evil, and just knows what to do to make this guy do what she wants. And everybody but the poor bachelor knows this. The other girls know this, the host knows this, hell even I know this and I watched two episodes drunk. I mean, she makes the other girls cry.

Do you realize how hard it is to completely captivate a guys attention while you’re on a show with a dozen other hot women in bikinis and evening dresses also trying to make out with him? I personally don’t, since I can barely get one woman interested in me at a time, much less multiple ones. But considering men have ADD when it comes to women, I would imagine it is pretty hard.

So with this woman’s combination of looks, knowledge of men and complete insanity, I am convinced she is what the Mayans were predicting would end mankind in 2012. We must not let her to continue to use her evil, much less spread her knowledge to other women.

I propose that the host of the show fly her to a remote island for a “romantic date.” We will then proceed to leave her on that island, every five months bringing her about 30 guys to chew up and spit out, like Medusa. The great thing is we could still keep her on a reality show. It would be called Survivor: Courtney Island.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Dead Man's Party

So I’m really excited, because The Walking Dead is coming back to TV! And no, I’m not referring to the Beach Boys Grammy appearance.

For those of you who don’t know, The Walking Dead is actually a show about a group of people trying to not get eaten by zombies. This is harder than it sounds, since even though the zombies shuffle with all the speed of a octogenarian and make loud obnoxious groaning noises, they still always manage to sneak up on people. I really don’t know why stupid people are always the ones who survive zombie apocalypses.

Except there is one character in the series who clearly was meant to run around killing zombies, Daryl, who is about as bad-ass as they come. In one episode alone he eats a squirrel raw, pulls an arrow out of his leg, kills a group of zombies, wears their ears as a necklace and then gets shot in the face and shrugs it off. Plus he carries around a crossbow. I don’t care if you can recite Star Trek trivia and dress like a ballerina, it is impossible to carry around a crossbow and not look cool.

Anyway, my neighbors Baddie and Midget were the ones who told me about this show, which is ironic since they hate zombies. Yeah I don’t really understand it either. But they did bring up an important point: We all must have a plan ready in case of a zombie apocalypse.

They have told me that it is very possible, and since they are science majors I trust them. Whereas I majored in journalism, so I don’t know anything I wasn’t told in a press release. Although in the case of a zombie apocalypse, I would probably have to cover it, and probably talk to the zombies. Although I still think they would be better quotes than the people I interview now, which are mainly city officials and college students:

Me: “So what should we do now in the face of impending death and destruction?”

City Official: “No comment. We are currently working collaboratively with various agencies to come up with a viable solution to the problem. Not that we have a problem.”

Colllege student: “Man, it’s like… S**t you know like, you know what I mean?”

Zombie: “Bleeeeehhh grrrrrr…”

But while I’m out covering the apocalypse, you should probably come up with a plan for how you would handle zombies. Just a hint, don’t go near Baddie and Midget, who have already said they will probably let you get bitten, put you in a large hole, and then kick people they don’t like into it.

Thankfully, I have come up with a zombie survival guide for you! What experience do I have? I was once a Boy Scout. Plus I went to a university that actually offers a zombie survival class. So if you follow my instructions, you may just survive long enough to see the world end in December anyway.

Now, the best way to avoid becoming zombie chow is to live in Hawaii. I'm pretty sure zombies can't swim. And even if they did, something about Hawaii makes you move waaay slower than normal, so zombies would basically be standing still.

But you, like me, are an idiot that no longer lives in Hawaii. So first, you have to assemble your crew. Sure, some people might say you are better off on your own, but without human interaction and love, aren’t you better off a zombie anyway? Hell no, that actually sounds great. But you need people to help you do menial tasks and lift random objects for you. Who you choose for your crew is also very important. You should have some minorities, a blonde chick and an old guy, and a fat person you are confident you can outrun in case you are ever being chased by zombies.

Great! You’ve got you little band together. Now, you have to figure out where you want to go. I recommend going to a big city. Why? Because people who live in the city are so angry and rude and lifeless even the zombies are afraid of them. Plus, even if the zombies invaded the city, they would all get stuck in the subway or run over by foreign taxi drivers.

Now that you know where you are going, you need to find a way to get there. Forget cars, because the roads will be clogged with traffic that won’t be moving. And it would get even worse if you are in a zombie apocalypse. So you need something highly maneuverable, that can weave in and out of traffic, but still has some giddy up when you need it. I think you know where I am going with this: You need to find yourself a moped. And don’t forget to get a dorky helmet. I mean, you don’t want to survive the zombie apocalypse only to crash and serve your brains up on the pavement like a Golden Corral buffet. Don’t worry, hopefully you have a crossbow to offset the uncool factor a moped presents.

Now, lastly, supplies. You want things that need very little preparation and don’t go bad for years. You also need something that won’t attract zombies. You need Spam. Lots and lots of Spam. Also, since vegetarians keep telling me Spam is the closest in taste to human flesh, eating Spam will prepare you in case you do become a zombie.

Alright, you’ve got a moped, cans of spam, and friends who you secretly would feed to zombies to save your own butt. It reminds me of summer back home! It is a harsh world out there in this zombie apocalypse, so stay alert and above all else stay away from abandoned high school gyms and you should survive. If you do, could I maybe interview you? The people I am talking to now keep trying to bite me. Darn city officials.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Out in the Cold, Pt. 2

Read part one here.

So now I had a problem. I had a job that requires me to be relatively mobile, and at the moment my car was not what you would call highly mobile. However, I took a look at my car and noticed that aside from the fact one of my tire rims was shaped like a fortune cookie, I didn't see any damage to the car, as far as I could tell. Which means absolutely nothing, since I know squat about cars.

Never the less, I had to get to work so I decided to just slap on my spare tire and see if I could make a go of it. Now, on a side note, as I was changing my tire, my neighbors Baddie and Midget came by to laugh at my misery, as they often do when they are bored. I offered to teach them how to change the tire on a car since I was in the middle of it, but they refused. Now, not to foreshadow or anything, but women not knowing how to change their tires is how The Human Centipede started. Just saying.

Anyway, the car appeared to be in working condition with the new tire on, so I proceeded to drive it to and from work for two days.

Then I finally got the chance to take the car in to the dealership to have it inspected. Before I could even sit down, a mechanic came up to me and said, “Mitchell, we have to talk.” Now, he said this with the same tone you would tell someone you just got their x-rays back and they found a tumor the size of an avacado in your prostate.

Now, I don't mean to get really car savvy on you, but I will say that the car was, in techinical terms, “broken.” Turns out, the frame on the underside of the car was damaged. Apparently the frame of the car is very important. Apparently it is also very expensive and is only made in a far off country that delivers parts by mule. So I was told the repair would cost around $6,000 and take two weeks.

Now, take into account that this was a 2011 Nissan Rogue I had just bought like three months ago. I wrecked this car faster than Kim Kardashian wrecked her marriage.

In between my whimpering, I realized that without a car, I was pretty much screwed. So in the meantime I had an up close and gross encounter with the abomination that is public transportation. When I couldn't snag rides, I took taxis around the city, and discovered several things. Some taxi drivers are genuinely nice and sometimes even turn out to be your Twitter followers. I'm not joking. I get into the taxi and all of a sudden this guy is talking to me about my Twitter account.

Other times they arrive late, don't speak English, don't know where they are going, don't have manners, and get angry when you don't tip them in $20 bills. Unfortunately, Boulder is not New York. Finding a taxi in Boulder involves more work and planning ahead than most NASA shuttle launches.

Finally I gave up and rented a car. But as expensive as renting a car is, I might as well have just bought a new car. For one thing, if you are under 25 you are charged an extra fee, because apparently young adults are all drunken idiots behind the wheel. (Then again, I was renting a car because I wrecked my other one, so I guess I can't talk.)

And then of course they show you your car. Back when I was a kid, my family always used to play a game when we went traveling where whoever guessed the color of their rental car got to choose where we ate first. I now realize this game was to help distract my Dad from the fact he would inevitably be driving some piece of junk car.

There is a reason the only place you ever see Chevys is in rental car lots: no person would willingly drive them. If GM ever wants to figure out why they are tanking worse than an Italian cruiser they should try renting a car. My car did not even have cup holders, which I assumed in this day and age was considered standard on cars, sort of like steering wheels.

But thankfully all of the horror finally ended Monday when I got my car back. Thankfully aside from one part it was unharmed, and I will be back on the streets terrorizing bikers and hippies yet again. But not in the snow. I really don't care if Megan Fox is asking me for a ride, I will not be found on the road in the snow anymore. So if you need me, send a dog sled.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Out in the Cold, Pt. 1

So I have just concluded what may have been one of the most stressful periods of my life since I tried to keep up with that whole Atkins diet fad a few years ago. You see, I got into a minor car accident, which meant of course I did not have a car for almost a month.

Now, let's start at the beginning, where it all happened. It was a holiday weekend, so – being the nice brother that I am – I picked up my sister in Greeley for a jam-packed weekend filled with exciting activities, such as not being in Greeley.

Anyway, I was supposed to drive her back Monday, but I decided it would be a better idea to sit on my couch and make her pay for a pizza before I did that. This of course seemed like an awesome idea until I prepared to make the two hour drive back to Greeley and looked out my window to see there was about a foot of snow on the ground.

In hind sight, should I have left sooner? Well, as I had mentioned before, I did not leave my couch, so I was unaware of the fact that it had begun snowing. So of course I said what the heck and slid off into the darkness.

Now, since certain neighbors of mine will complain if I don't bring this up, I am a terrible snow driver. You know that guy who is driving about two miles an hour and clearly hasn't bothered to clean all the snow off his car and is weaving back and forth because his hands are in his pockets instead of on the steering wheel? Well I make that guy look like an Iditarod champion. Is it my fault I can't drive in the snow? Of course not. I grew up in Hawaii. How exactly was I supposed to practice driving in the snow?

Regardless, I made it about halfway to Greeley when it happened. I was coming down off an exit ramp and turned my steering wheel to the right. To my disappointment, the car proceeded to keep going straight. You know how in the movies the accidents always happen suddenly and your life flashes before your eyes in a second? Yeah that didn't happen to us. We knew for about ten seconds that we were going to hit the sidewalk. We could have watched a whole slide show of our lives, complete with Morgan Freeman narration in the time it took us to crash.

Luckily neither me nor my sister nor the box of beers I had randomly sitting in my backseat were hurt. Also, nobody else was hurt, because the road was literally empty, mainly because everybody else with half a walnut for a brain did not go driving to remote parts of Colorado that night. Unsure of the extent of the damage to the car, I drove the car to a nearby gas station, where I decided I could gather myself before completely freaking out.

Now, just to be clear, there were several reasons I was freaking out. For one, I managed to crash in the most podunk little truck-stop town in the world. Also, it was 10 at night, it was about 10 degrees and snowing, and I was in shorts and slippers. Sure, that may sound stupid, but I was assuming here that I would not be leaving the car at any time during this ride. I normally just slow down to about 40 mph near Greeley and just tell my sister to tuck-and-roll.

After a whole lot of waiting and a whole lot of the gas station manager being very creepy, the tow truck finally showed up. After hooking the car up, we hopped in and headed back to Boulder.

Within about five minutes I realized it would have definitely been safer to try and walk back in the freezing cold and take our chances with the wolves. Our tow truck driver nonchalantly mentioned that this was his first week of towing, and appeared to have absolutely no knowledge about how to drive a stick-shift. Instead of paying attention to the icy roads of death, he kept trying to talk to us about how he could never find a steady job. At one point as he approached an intersection, the light turned red. Instead of trying to stop, he just said, “Yeah that isn't gonna happen,” and just slid through the red light.

Then, about ten minutes out of Boulder, he put his head in his hand and said, “Man, I'm tired.” It was around this point that I began to go through all the regrets in my life and came to the immediate realization that I was definitely going to hell, which at the time did not seem that bad. At least it would probably be warm.

Anyway, he managed to not kill us and dropped us off at my apartment. It was around 1 in the morning and I was looking forward to finally getting some sleep. Because the next morning brought with it the scariest thing imaginable: car mechanics.

To be continued… DUN DUN DUN.