eatprayfacebook-blog

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Renaissance Man

A night of cooking and sewing. You want some dinner? Done. Ripped a hole in your jeans? I'm on it. Feeling particularly confident today? I'll be right there to bring you back down to Earth with hurtful, small-minded comments.

Get at me ladies, I am the total package.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Dental disappointment

Dear Facebook, I've discovered the final marker of maturation. Flossing. When I was a child, a trip to the dentist would always include the same three things: an inspection, a notification or filling of cavities, and a desperate plea for me to start flossing. This person, who would be paid more whenever I had a cavity or the occasional root canal, would explain how to floss, show me photos of people who hadn't flossed, and demonstrate on flossing on my teeth with a little souvenir package of floss while I watched through a mirror, granting me the tools and knowledge that would enable me to perform this task at least once in the following four to six month period. I would never hold up my side of this bargain. My dentist remains the most wronged person in my life. Now I floss almost daily. When I started flossing regularly a few months ago, I did it after brushing, twice a day, but I soon fell back into the old habit of sleeping for an extra hour each morning rather than spend that time making my gums bleed. But I look at it differently than when I was younger. It's rewarding now. The incredible tedium of the act is outweighed by the intense pride of having borne the tedium. "I feel like a responsible grown up, I've survived an unpleasant situation and it's only five in the morning, and my teeth are clean and bleeding like a teenage girl in a horror movie who neglected to pay attention to the ominous music that began playing when she was undressing before taking a shower, or having sex with her or another's boyfriend, or doing the dishes, or folding laundry, or any number of mundane chores that don't necessarily require one to change their clothes." My inner monologue can be quite garrulous.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Socially Transmitted Networks

Dear Facebook, For a website which has the potential to bring people closer than ever before, you seem to be intent upon sequestering me from all of my friends. You see, some of my friends are stricken with horribly debilitating sickness: Zynga. It's a virus that, when contracted, provides the victim with the delusion that anyone on their friends list would actually enjoy constant invitations to Facebook games. Candy Crush and Mafia Wars are just the worst forms of this disease. Less serious but just as annoying invitations may be known as [Insert random word] with Friends.  This news is especially disheartening after spread and cure of the epidemic of the Farmville strain of 2009. According to one Pre-Med sophomore at West Virginia University who had himself previously be stricken with the disease, the cure was the realization that, "running a kickass online farm and texting your best buds to help build a barn doesn't bring in any sloots, bro." With your help, we can beat the Zynga virus once and for all. Why simulate interactions with friends while sitting in a dark room in front of a computer screen when we could actually interact with friends in a dark bar in front of a Golden Tee machine?

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Don't bring a knife to a Mac fight

Dear Facebook,

As we've discussed previously, I own a Mac. It's my first, and as nice as it can be at times, it can also be one of the most inconvenient machines. Some Microsoft Office programs are available for Mac OS but not all. Some games are compatible with Macs, but many are not. The latter is my current issue. 

I've been trying to Boot Camp this computer with Windows 8.1 for the past four hours, six beers, three temper tantrums, and two sobbing returns promising that I'll never lose faith in you again if you just do what I want you to d- 

DAMN YOU, MACHINE! What do you want from me? Blood? At any rate, this batch of Killian's is, in a word, magnificent.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Rules of engagement

Dear Facebook,

There seems to be a massive misunderstanding of the internet, specifically social media. People seem the think that only certain people are allowed to view and/or comment on their posts. This series of tubes is open to everyone who can make their way into it. So it’s possible and acceptable that I view, like, and comment on your picture of your friend’s bachelorette party even though we haven’t interacted in years because you weren’t single but now you are. Excuse me if I’m trying to ease my way back into your newly attractive life.

Now, I realize that waiting outside your apartment for you to walk by so I could tell you that I viewed, liked, and commented on your picture could be misconstrued as slightly creepy, but like I told you at the time, I was merely in the neighborhood and by some glorious serendipity I managed to draw your attention by raucously shaking the bush in which I was crouching. The judge says hiding, I say crouching.

And I’ll have you know, my new bit of shrubbery lies two feet clear of your outrageous demand of one hundred feet.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Snow Wars

Dear Facebook, As I sit here, bathed in light from a dozen florescent bulbs so bright, I chanced to think of how nice it'd be if only the heater next to me could blow hot air instead of THE HORRIFICALLY UNYIELDING ICY BLASTS OF WIND FROM THE DESOLATE FROZEN TUNDRIC WASTELAND OF HOTH. Seriously, I'm pretty sure I just saw an AT-AT walk by. That's another thing, why was control of Hoth that important? What purpose has Antarctica proven to have besides giving people a cold snowy place to hike?

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Dancing through life

Dear Facebook

There's nothing like footloosing in your room to the Wicked soundtrack at 2 AM, clad in nothing more than underwear, make-believe leg warmers, and the stage presence of Ethel Merman, while desperately trying to muffle the huffs and puffs from the exertion so no one hears your amazing new choreography. They just wouldn't be able to handle the awesome...

 WATCH ME DEFY F***ING GRAVITY, BITCHES.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

As short as the day is round

Dear Facebook, I don't understand society's views on acceptable height. I'm 5'7" and decried as short. But a female who's 5'4" is completely kosher. I must ask, what the hell? Since when do females treat double standards favorably? Well, besides the double standards for opening doors, holding doors, the order in which persons may walk through doors...  Perhaps the fairer of the species just has a problem with thresholds in general? They go to the bathroom in herds, through school hallways in packs, to the beach in gaggles. Can they do nothing without a spotter? Or perhaps it's something simpler?  Never once has a female put up the toilet seat lest she be subjected to an hour long rant of how she doesn't respect me and my needs, so I suppose the issues lie with the opening and closing of hinged objects and how they are somehow allergic to performing said action themselves... but I digress. I may be short, but at least I'm consistent with my belief on toilet lid ettiquette.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

No money, seemingly mo' problems

Dear Facebook, Thanks to a friend, I've been gorging myself on the soulful sounds of NWA, Naughty by Nature, Geto Boys, the artist formerly known as Snoop Dogg, and Chamillionaire. So, you know... ... pretty productive evening. If you need me, I'll be over here being an OG.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Losing control, one gun at a time

Dear Facebook,

I draw quite a bit of amusement from the gun control debate. In one corner, you have the left wing argument that guns are bad and a special grip on the weapon makes it more dangerous. I'm pretty sure, a 30.06 with a wooden stock is just as deadly if not more so than an AR-15 made of metal and plastic. In the opposing corner, you have the right wing, proclaiming that laws don't stopcriminals, so what's the point? Well, yes, I suppose that point is slightly more accurate than viewing a special handle as evil, but it's still ludicrous to use as a center argument. Criminals obviously don't follow laws, that's why they're criminals. If they were law abiding citizens, they'd be called law abiding citizens. We have laws against planned murder, not so planned murder, even less planned murder, accidental murder, non-lethal assualts, etc. I pose this question: since laws don't stop criminals, and we're going to apply a defeatest attitude towards this issue, why not carry it to it's logical conclusion? Get rid of all laws. What's the point? If there are laws, people will just break them. Legislation is not designed or able to stop criminals. Legislation, all legislation, is designed to keep honest people honest. It's there to control the masses who wouldn't necessarily agree with most of the actions described in the laws. I have no problem with strict rules controlling sale and acquisition of guns. Background checks seem like a great idea. If I'm going to trust Joe or Jane Citizen with a deadly weapon, whatever it's intended use, I feel I deserve to know what they've done. That said, I think responsible ownership of weapons is indeed possible. I enjoy shooting rifles, pistols, shotguns, you name it, I enjoy it. It makes me feel as though I have the impressive phallus I know I deserve. I've been a decent person, why punish me, God? What do you have to prove? And that, children, is why I lost my faith.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Fus Roh Dahn't go in there, Bilbo...

Dear Facebook, There comes a time in every manboy's life when he must ask the ultimate question: how nerdy is too nerdy? Some may say it's when you take notes in class, some may say it's when you develop an ingrown pocket protector. However, I submit that it is the moment when you thoroughly enjoy yourself over a long weekend playing Skyrim while listening to The Hobbit audiobook dramatization. I'm proud to say I finally crossed that threshold and my bucket list shall forever be a shell of it's former glory. May Talos guide you all.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Wooly Bully

Dear Facebook, I'm composing this thought, or as I like to call them, "itching, burning sensations of the eyes, nose, and anus," on a Mac. My first Mac. I was quite happy with the Macbook package however: laptop, power cable, plaid shirt, skinny knit tie, skinny khakis, skinny plaid suspenders, and skinny brown wingtips, and Ray Bans that don't have any noticeable magnification properties. I'd like to take a moment, if I may, to discuss that ginormous "bullying" scandal inside the Dolphins organization from late last year. I say "bullying" because a grown man complaining about mean, nasty words is slightly pathetic. Let's dissect the comments: "Hey, wassup, you half n----- piece of (expletive)..." Wow, starting off pretty harshly there, not to mention poor grammar... ok, moving on. "I saw you on Twitter, you been training ten weeks. (I want to) (expletive) in your (expl) mouth...." Now, to the layman who's never been in a testosterone driven environment surrounded by a group of unmitigated horse rectums, that might seem offensive. But Incognito clearly took the time to notice one of his junior players' tweets. That's checking up on your workers outside of work. Who wouldn't want that? He's also aware of how long Martin had been training. Again, a superior that pays attention to a subordinate's progress. Now, the explitiving in his explitiving mouth... maybe he wants to gently place his popsicle into Martin's dry mouth. It's hot in those uniforms. I'd love a popsicle after one of those practices. "(I'm going to) slap your (expletive) mouth. (I'm going to) slap your real mother across the face (laughter)." Is there a fly on his or his real mother's forehead? How many slapstick comedies had bits just like that? Five minutes of slapping both men and women in the face with hands, clipboards, hammers, bats, etc., and none of them were accused of bullying. I can only assume this is what Incognito was referencing because of all the parenthetical laughing he was doing. (Expletive) you, you're still a rookie. I'll kill you." Notices Martin is still a rookie and gives him an achievable, clearly defined goal: stop it or I'll kill you. That's better mentoring than I've gotten. Ever. I'll close by saying this: no one cares. If you can't experience vehement verbal abuse and racial epithets projected with the same intensity and just as pathetically futile as Miley's twerks at work, where can you experience it? I never had this issue because I had the distinct pleasure of working with my buddy Ben. He's a mean drunk. The hateful comments he spouts at me would make Strom Thurmond blush. He also beat the Stromster's record for procreating with underage African American women.  So, you know... take that Sen. Thurmond. You lose.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Being Anonymous is overrated

Dear Facebook,

For my current job, we're screened for addictions and abuses. Drug, alcohol, sexual, foodie, etc. On one such screening form for alcohol, there questions about number of drinks per occasion of drinking, the frequency of drinking nights, and whether or not we drank to change our moods. The line between social drinker and alcoholic was two drinks, twice a week.

TWO DRINKS. Ha. I laugh in the face of substance abuse counselors. Now, I don't know about you, the noble reader who's never patronized one of those sticky-floored, dimly lit houses of sinful beverages and partially hydrogenated snacks, but I don't think I ever consumed alcohol for any other reason than to change my mood. I could be a special case, but I doubt it.

It boggles my mind when people say that someone's addicted to alcohol and it's a bad thing... that's like saying loving a dear friend who makes you do and say stupid things if you visit them too much is a harmful dependency. I also see no harm in blacking out. People make you suffer through their retelling of long-winded, fantastical dreams, why not make them suffer through telling you what you did in what you thought and hoped was just a dream and not a real telephone call with live people and the crumbling remains of your formerly decent reputation for being able to hold it in some semblance of "together." That's right, if you don't remember how it got there besides just the hint of a dream of some heartburny gurgling with chewy stuff, the puke on your shirt isn't yours... L'chaim.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

This is not your room

Dear Facebook, Like many other fans of 80's movies, one of my favorites is Turner and Hooch. It's a beautiful story that illustrates the value of cleanliness, organization, telling your significant other exactly how much you had previously fantasized about them, and the importance of always wearing your seat belt. I mean, come on, people... it's the law.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Boredom is a dish best served with more food

Dear Facebook, I eat when I'm bored. Quite a bit. But it's never something healthy. For example, I've never said to myself, "Well, Self, I'm bored and slightly peckish. Let's start off with a banana or apple and then see how we feel." It's always like, "I'm going to make that jar of queso's socially acceptable serving size feel silly..."

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

Dear Facebook, Today, I discovered NFL Top Ten on YouTube. The above space illustrates the amount of shit I then accomplished.

[eatprayfacebook-blog]

RNC clearly understands their demographic

Dear Facebook, Why, oh why, would one of your suggested posts to me be from the RNC's "page"? No, Facebook, I will not support the GOP with my inordinately valuable "Likes". But what's most shocking is not that the GOP has a "page" on Facebook. The Republicans have adapted with unmatched and ever-increasing zeal to this newfangled system of a series of tubes, possibly pneumatic, created for the sole purpose of the mass dissemination of outdated, unwavering ideologies. No, what's most shocking is that you at Facebook believe that just anyone is qualified to be privy to this kind of information. Republicanism is much like Scientology: not just anyone is able to handle the complete truths of the world without certain uncontrollable responses, like raised eyebrows. Or the inability to take the blather seriously. Or laughter... furious, gut-busting, knee-slapping, incredulous laughter.