My middle school science teacher always used to say, “Never strive for mediocrity.” Unfortunately, I’ve been letting him down almost every day of my life. I am in fact a Mediocre Man.
Welcome to my world of prose, poetry and semi-intelligent ramblings.
My other sites:
www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com
(From the greatest hipster/emo love story blog ever….. www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com)
“What the hell is going on???? I WON, I WON, I WON,” screamed Jude.
Clemmy and Stefan both ran to him and explained that Billy Emo was protesting the victory because oil from Jude’s body had gotten into his eyes disabling him from swimming.
“You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me. I did put patchouli lotion on my arms and legs, like I do every morning, but that couldn’t have caused it,” said Jude.
Clemmy and Stefan looked at each other in disbelief when Jude admitted that.
“Jude, why would you do that? There was a slick of oil in the water right after you jumped in. Billy Emo may have a case here,” Clemmy said angrily.
“Hold on a minute. Look at all the foundation and eye-liner Billy Emo has on. We will blame it on that. It’s not like there is Emo-CSI to investigate what got into his eyes,” said Stefan.
Stefan then grabbed his microphone and began to yell in Billy Emo’s direction:
“STOP TRYING TO CHEAT BILLY EMO. IT’S YOUR OWN MAKEUP THAT GOT INTO YOUR EYES. TAKE YOUR LOSS LIKE A MAN.” Continue reading “The Swim-Off, part 2”
(This is from my hipster/emo love story blog: www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com)
The Scene: YMCA indoor pool. Billy Emo supporters on one side of the pool and hipster supporters on the other. Each group holding signs making fun of the each other. One YMCA lifeguard overseeing the event. Jude and Billy Emo facing off at the foot of the pool. Clemmy standing behind Jude.
Finally, the wait was over. The swim-off battle for Randall’s supremacy was at hand. Jude and Billy Emo stood facing each other with venom dripping from their eyes.
Billy Emo was wearing faded combat boots and was draped in a black robe that looked like Dracula’s cape. Jude sported a velour smoking jacket with a purple collar to match his trademark purple fedora and no shoes. He looked very sweaty and very greasy.
“I know about your webbed feet. Prepare to be destroyed William Emo,” Jude said with disdain.
You could see the fear flowing through Billy Emo’s face and somehow it became whiter than it already was.
Stefan and the hipster supporters were on one side of the pool holding signs and chanting, “WEBBED-FOOTED FREAK, BILLY EMO MUST DIE, WEBBED-FOOTED FREAK, BILLY EMO MUST DIE.”
The smell of an old, dank basement filled the air on their side of the pool. You could almost see the stench rising from their hairy, unwashed bodies. Continue reading “The Swim-Off, part 1”
(this is a true story, I witnessed this while driving to work several years ago)
I saw papers flying into the air, a small explosion
like a defunct roman candle, not a bottle rocket
up into the air about 10 feet, then scattered around by the wind
onto the curb, onto the median, onto the hot, Florida concrete
like shards of nothing
quick red lights forced closely to my front bumper
a woman, yelling and running from the fruit stand across the street
I got out, walked around the vehicle in front
The bottom corner of the windshield cracked in a soft ball sized circle
with dirty strips of brownish, black hair stuck between the cracks Continue reading “Harold, my first experience with real death”
(This is from my site: www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com, probably the greatest hipster/emo love story of all time.)
The day after Jude emptied his manhood all over Clemmy’s back, he was working at Randall’s and feeling like an absolute stud.
He walked around the place like he owned it. He couldn’t stop stroking his mustache while looking into the air with a confidant gaze. He truly felt like a new man.
He almost forgot he was working when two jocks approached the counter. Generally, jocks didn’t come in to Randall’s, but they were becoming more commonplace since a YouFit gym was recently built down the street.
The jocks were both dressed in Nike workout shorts and bright, fluorescent dri-fit shirts. They were muscly, sweaty and their demeanor cocky.
“Hey fedora boy, do you guys have any protein smoothies like Starbucks has,” said Jock 1 as Jock 2 laughed in approval.
Without saying a word, Jude pointed to the menu board behind him that listed two protein smoothies. Jude didn’t have a high opinion of jocks and automatically assumed both of them were less than average readers.
“Oh, so hairy face boy thinks he’s too good to talk to us. We’ll take two Guava paste, whey protein smoothies, extra large. We’ll be waiting at that table in the corner, just bring them over to us after you make them,” said Jock 2. Continue reading “The Purple Fedora Incident (Jude’s big balls)”
(I’m married now and very happy, but there was a time when I was single after divorcing from a 10 year marriage and was roaming around aimlessly in the dating scene. For me, it wasn’t much fun and I even went on a dating website or two, which was an absolute joke, and yes I admit that I did it. Please keep in mind that Tinder hadn’t been invented yet).
This brings me to what could solve almost every dating issue for single people………..
The Honest Dating Profile (kind of like an alcoholic at his/her first AA meeting):
Hi, my name is JB and I’m single. “Hi JB, welcome to the group.” I’m 32, recently divorced and looking to get out into the dating scene.
I haven’t dated in nearly 12 years, so I’m a bit nervous and not sure what to expect.
So, here goes. I’m a decent looking guy and I’m pretty much looking for a woman who isn’t afraid to slut it up and get fairly nasty with me.
When we go out, we will split everything 50/50; drinks, dinner, desert, movies, cab fares, lotions, lubes, ball-gags and anything else we do while being out together.
When I get nervous, my forehead gets sweaty and so do my balls. Continue reading “a real dating profile”
A while ago, my grandfather passed away at the age of 88. I won’t bore you with the details. He was a great man, lived a great life and he died. That’s just life.
As my family prepared his obituary for the local paper, it got me thinking about a couple of things. Have you ever noticed how obituaries are always positive and always portray the dead person as a freaking saint?
Now, this has nothing to do with my grandfather, he actually was a saint and never hurt a soul.
But, I would like to prepare an obituary for a hypothetical dead person who was a real piece of shit.
Billy Ray Bumpkus 1980-2012, from Anytown, USA
Well, we all knew it was coming. Satan finally cashed in Billy Ray’s soul ticket and took him to the depths of hell where he belongs.
We all wondered how it would happen. Hell, the whole family and neighborhood had a death pool going.
Congrats to Billy Ray’s cousin Lula Bell who correctly predicted that he would die by being bitten by his pet Black Mamba named Hitler. $100 to you Lula Bell, well done. Continue reading “the first honest obituary”
A gay dude walked into a bar and God was sitting at a corner booth looking all cool and shit while stroking his white beard. The conversation went something like this:
Gay Dude– Hey there, is that really you? Are you God?
God– Yes my son, behold, for it is me, the Almighty.
Gay Dude– (clapping gingerly) Finally, I’ve been looking for you for like years. I have a really, really important question for you.
God– Anything my son, what’s on your mind?
Gay Dude– Well, I’m afraid you don’t love me.
God– Why would you think that? I am God, I love everyone. I created you in my image.
Gay Dude– But I like other dudes.
God-Well so do I, what’s wrong with that???
Gay Dude– No, I mean I realllllllllllllllly like other dudes. I like penises. I like to touch them, lick them and put them in my ass.
God– Holy Shit, I get it now. You are a gay, hmmmmm. Yeah, I don’t really like gays that much. You know, I’m still pissed about all that Sodom and Gomorrah shit that went down a while back.
Gay Dude– But do you love me? I was born this way, does that mean you are gay too, since you created me in your image and all???
God– Look buddy, I love pussy. We had a security breach in heaven years ago and Beelzebub snuck in and started creating gays just to fuck with me. I so didn’t create gays. But now lesbians, I love me some lesbians. I take full credit for them. (winking)
Gay Dude– This is bullshit.
God– Get used to it and be thankful, at least you aren’t gay and black.
“Barry”
There once was a man named Obama
His daddy was black not his mamma
He won the election
Cuz of his off-white complexion
Now all of the whities are in trauma
“Rush”
There once was a man named Rush Limbaugh
He turned into a pill eating dildo
But his maid did tell
When her check didn’t swell
And off to rehab did he go
“The Reverend”
There once was a reverend named Jackson
Who walked the fine lines of attraction
His dick it did stray
To another woman they say
Now his wife gets the last satisfaction
Prancing down the street, with a constant look of “I’m better than you bitch.”
Laying on the grass in the front yard, deliberately flipping their tails back and forth inviting you to pet their stomach,
then as you oblige, they scratch you like a mad queen who was just told he was “chunky.”
They flutter past you, deliberately brushing your leg for attention with their tail high in the air exposing their asshole, an asshole that looks like a banana that’s been split in half.
I’ve yet to see a cat who appeared masculine in any way, nor have I ever heard a cat meow in a deep voice like the Allstate guy.
(I’m fairly certain that All Cats (Domestic) Are Probably Gay, I mean no offense to the gay community.)
This is from my blog: www.hipsterstories.wordpress.com
(According to one person that read the story: “It’s probably one of the best hipster/emo love stories ever told,” Anonymous.
After reading the email from Clemmy, Jude was confused, distraught and embarrassed.
Dear Clemmy,
Thanks for being honest with me. I understand, but I don’t understand, I mean I think I understand.
Anyway, I’m going to put my phone up for a while and go somewhere where no one knows my name…..you know, the opposite of the show Cheers.
Peace out,
Jude
He decided to drink his confusion away, but wanted to go somewhere different, somewhere where he could sit at the corner of a bar and fade into his glass. He walked a few blocks and ended up at Buffalo Wild Wings sports bar.
He walked in with his head down and sat at the last open bar stool at the far corner of the bar. There were televisions everywhere, each showing a different type of sport.
Jude ordered a PBR tall boy and started guzzling while the television above him played a girls college softball game. He stared at the game with a dazed look and was somewhat turned on by the girls playing, but was worried that they looked a little too much like men. He continued to guzzle.
The bartender walked up to him and placed a Jager shot in front of him.
“Easy man, I didn’t order that. I’m not trying to get that drunk,” Jude said.
“The two guys at the end of the bar over there sent you that shot,” the bartender said pointing in their direction.
Jude looked to where he pointed and his mouth nearly hit the floor. It was the two jocks from Randall’s the other day and they were walking towards him.
Jock 1 took Judes PBR tall boy from his hand and poured the rest of it into Jude’s lap. Jude sat there frozen and terrified as Jock 2 said, “Oh look, poor little fedora boy pissed his pants in public.”
“Enjoy that shot, because it’s your last drink in here. This is our bar, keep your stinky ass down the street at Randall’s or wherever else you hang out. If we see you in here again, we are going to shove that fedora up your ass,” said Jock 1.
The bartender walked over and asked if everything was alright.
“Just so you know, I’m going to Yelp this later and it won’t be pretty,” Jude replied defiantly.
Then he dropped some cash on the bar and walked out of the bar covering his wet crotch with his fedora.
“Thanks a lot Clemmy, thanks a fucking lot,” Jude said to himself as he walked home in despair.
aMediocreMan 