The Incredible Journey

I was down at the store, to buy some shampoo,

After having eaten a dinner or two,

When I suddenly realized that something was wrong,

Thus began my adventure, exciting, and long.

 

I realized then that I had something to do,

And it was pretty bad, between me and you.

I had fallen into fate’s cruel, hungry trap,

It was late in the night, and I had to…crap.

 

So I said to my father, and my mother too,

And I yelled to the clerk, “Good evening to you!”

I left that damned store with my stolen shampoo,

Ran halfway to hell just to go to the loo.

 

I crossed street after street, with tiring feet,

I knew I shouldn’t have eaten all that meat!

I ran red lights and yellows, with sweat on my face,

Faster than Bolt when he’s running a race.

 

I got texts from my parents, saying “Go to McDonalds!”

But I passed it already…What rhymes with McDonalds?

Nonetheless, I continued towards my destination,

And to be sure, I wasn’t suffering from constipation.

 

Finally! The front door, but where are my keys?

I searched for the spare on my bare hands and knees,

I found it, and rushed for the toilet at last,

But I had time to spare, thank God I’m so fast.

 

So I hopped in the shower, and washed off the sweat,

Then I sat on the can, but I wasn’t done yet!

I wrote a poem, seven verses in all,

And that’s how I killed all my cholesterol.

Advertisements

Drowning

Drowning. I feel my lungs fill with sorrow, and my heart fill with pain as I…Psyche! You guys know I wouldn’t put you through that crap. That seems to count as writing these days, huh? If you ask me, it’s easy to write something “deep.” here’s five things you need to know about being deep.

  1. Start with a negative verb ending in ING, such as “drowning,” “burning,” or “failing middle school.”
  2. Start the next sentence with “I,” followed by “feel my <insert organ here> fill with <emotion> and <another emotion>.
  3. After this, continue to describe a boring activity that leaves room for reflection. Some examples might be sitting on the beach, or cooking a hamburger.
  4. Insert something philosophical.
  5. End your deepness with the same verb you began with, to give it a full circle.

Here’s a sample:

  1. Asphyxiating. I feel my pancreas and my bladder fill with sorrow and distress as I sit on the toilet reading the paper and wondering what the stars said when they saw the sinking of the titanic. Asphyxiating.

And there you have it.

Standup

There seems to be a direct correlation between comedy and alcohol. 90% of open mics in Downtown Philadelphia are in bars. Bars! With drinking people! Drinking people who will soon be, if they aren’t already, drunk! So how does a young comedian make it in the world of comedy?

He doesn’t. Partly because practically no comedians make it in the world of comedy, and the ones that do make it make ten dollars every fifteen years, which they spend on alcohol. at bars.

So why do comedians still tell jokes? Why hasn’t live comedy just ceased to exist? There’s a simple answer to this question. A comedian when they are just starting off is an optimist. A raging optimist. Then, over time, their egos start to disappear, at which point the only thing keeping them alive is comedy. It’s a pit of despair, but the good news is that the jokes cancel out about 2% of the depression.

Where can one find a genuine comedian? It’s easy. All you have to do is go to a bar. Or a cliff somewhere. If you don’t get that one, just…please don’t try to figure it out. It’s dark. Really dark.

The thing to remember is that not all standup comedians are bad. In fact, a lot of comedians are hilarious. But they’re all broke. No matter how good they are. So, if you see a comedian on the street, just…give him a quarter. Please.

Electronically Ironic 

Damn. This app I downloaded to help me spend less time on my phone says I’ve been spending seven hours staring at my screen all day. It’s telling me I need to increase my face-to-face communications. If I’m not mistaken, I just went to staples to buy a Bluetooth mouse. I also wanted to get an Easy Button. Turns out they don’t have them anymore. I guess I could order one online. Be right back… 

One hour later: So I went to buy the Easy Button on Amazon, and they had them in red and blue. I didn’t know what color to get, so I took a Buzzfeed quiz on what color represents me best. Turns out it was purple, which is right in the middle, so I just bought two of them. I got one in English and one in French. I can use the French one when I’m doing French homework, which, ironically, çe n’est pas facile. I want some ice cream. Hmm…i wonder what the best ice cream place in my neighborhood is. Hold on…

Half an hour later: Brian and I are going to get ice cream at Fredo’s dad’s ice cream shop, which is ranked fifth in the area, but I know him, so whatever. I mean, that app did say I should spend more time talking to people face-to-face and stop staring at screens. And here I am at my computer writing a post about it. At least I’m getting something done, right? I mean, it’s better than looking at my phone. Hold on, just got a text…
Two hours later: DAMN!

Chocolate Miss

Everybody loves that classic love story where the sailor looks across the room, sees the girl, turns to his buddy, and says, “See that lass? I’m gonna marry her someday.” That’s sort of what happened between me and chocolate mousse on a sunny June morning in Paris, France. I had to take a wiz, so I got up from my table to walk to the restroom. On the way, I passed by the kitchen, and there she was, sitting atop a metal counter, powdered sugar sprinkled lightly upon her smooth skin. 

I froze. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. Still stunned, I summoned the waiter. Without breaking eye contact with her, I asked the man casually, “Who’s that on the counter there? What’s her situation? She got a man?” He looked at me like I was insane, and said “That’s today’s dessert special, the chocolate mousse.”

“Special indeed,” I thought. I knew I had to meet her.

Later on, back at the table, I asked the waiter to introduce me to the chocolatey maiden. When she was reluctantly dragged to my table, I realized that, lovesick as I was, destiny wouldn’t happen all by itself. So, being the sexy beast that I am, I leaned in and whispered, “Baby, I could just eat you up.” I guess she was pretty shy. She didn’t say anything. But when I took that first bite, I realized that, despite her timidness, she was very sweet.

When we were paying for the meal, I saw the waiter bringing her to a table across the room. I stood up, and walked over. “I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot let you do this. You see, I love her, and it would kill me to see her with another man.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” he told me. “This is just her identical twin.”

Waitlist

A little background: I applied to several boarding schools this year, and about a week ago, I received acceptance letters. Everything went well, except for one detail: I was put on the waitlist for my top choice. I know that it’s up to the fates to decide whether or not I end up at my dream school next year, but nonetheless, I can’t help wondering if it’s possible to give destiny a little push in the right direction. I mean, there must be something I can do which would just blow the admissions officers away, and leave them sitting at their desks, mouths open, thinking “This kid is in.” Here are my top ten ideas:

10. Offer to mow all the lawns on campus for free. Pretty obvious why this one is at the bottom of the list, right? I mean, the effort this would require is equal to that of directing and starring in an Oscar-winning film.

9. Ride into the admissions office on a unicycle. What better way is there to show the admissions officers that I am both athletic and self-confident? It’s an almost flawless plan, except for the fact that I have no idea how to ride a unicycle.

8. Ride into the admissions office on a unicycle wearing a suit. This one has all the same benefits as number 9, except it also shows that I’m classy. Who could say no to an athletic, self-confident young man who just so happens to be dressed to the nines? Downsides: same as number 9.

7. Invent a zero-emissions jetpack. People always tell me that when applying to schools, it’s important to be memorable. Ever since I was little, I have loved building things. And science is my favorite class, after all. What would the admissions officers say if I flew down onto the busy campus wearing a homemade jetpack that didn’t leave the place reeking of exhaust? It would make it clear that I’m a true engineer, and also an environmentalist.

6. Send a letter. Everyone seems to do this, but 98% of applicants accepted from the waitlist sent a letter to the school. And yes, that’s a true statistic. Probably.

5. Descend upon the school in a hot air balloon. Picture it. The school goes dark, and everyone looks to the sky. Blocking out the sunlight with my beautiful balloon, there I’ll be, wearing one of those caps all hot air balloon pilots wear. And some gloves, too. Can’t forget the gloves. You can’t say no to a pair of those beautiful white gloves. I mean, what better way is there to make an impression than to show up in a hot air balloon?

4. Build a time machine, go to the future, become an admissions officer, and admit myself to the school. No, that would be cheating. Although the time machine would be impressive.

3. Direct and star in an Oscar-winning film. I’ve always loved to act, and don’t pretend it wouldn’t be cool to have a movie star at your school.

2. Write my name across the sky in water vapor. They call it skywriting. Usually, it’s done by a plane, and they write the message in smoke. But I did already build that zero-emissions jetpack. After a few skywriting lessons, it would be a piece of cake. Assuming they have classes for that sort of thing…

1. Post something clever on my comedy blog about being on the waitlist. Check!