A Hypothetical

Let's say you own an ipod shuffle.  Let's also say that you've got a hoodie with a very saggy front pocket.  Now let's imagine you're in an airport, sitting across from numerous people.  Let's say you decide to listen to your ipod shuffle and therefore place it in your front pocket for convenience sake.  Now, let's say you're listening to a song that you don't wish to be listening to any more.  What if, because you assume it will be more effective, you try to locate the "forward" button on your ipod shuffle through the outside of your saggy pocket using your index finger?  How might that go?  What might that look like?

I'll tell you what it looks like.  It looks like you're rubbing your crotch as though you were petting a new born baby duck.  And evidently that looks weird.  At least that's my assumption based on the looks I was getting.  Why it took me longer than five seconds to realize this, I'll never know.

...Also, don't stick your tongue out to the side at any point.  

...Hypothetically speaking of course.  

- The Bean

The City is Angry Today

My face is all puffy.  Initially I thought that maybe I was allergic to handsome, but if that were the case, my body would have exploded a long time ago.  I'm hoping it's because I'm sick and not because I'm pregnant, which I thought I took care of months ago.  Everyone at school has been getting sick for a while now and I've only just finally given in and become sick myself.  My thinking is that it's due to my incredibly strong and efficient immune system.  Seriously, my immune system is so strong that I think sometimes it's capable of physically lifting objects.  "How is that possible?" you might ask.  To that I would respond with "Shut up and let me dream."  

On another note, it rained the tiniest bit today in the city of Los Angeles.  It wasn't even bad and wasn't really even noticeable to me.  In Portland, it's what we would call "shorts weather."  However, this not being Portland, the city as a whole had an entirely different opinion.  As I was walking home from school, the general public was in misery.  They seriously looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie.  People were stumbling around confused and horrified.  It would have been kind of amusing if it hadn't been so scary.  There was an old man shouting at security outside a Borders bookstore, people were more pushy on the sidewalk than they normally are, and there were people in cars wanting to physically assault each other at a stoplight near my home.  It's sad when the smallest, simplest thing can make people seem so ugly.

Oh, and on a lighter note, if you're ever wondering how it might be possible to make your existence a little more bad ass, do the following:  get yourself some business cards!  Holy shit, if you don't already have one, GET ONE.  I don't even care what you do for a living because you can make that little rectangle of paper say whatever you want it to!  For example, I'm still in film school and have officially accomplished nothing in my professional life.  However, my new business card still says my name and underneath that it says "Screenwriter."  How incredibly awesome is that?  I mean, it's pretty cool if the place that you work for gives you some business cards with your name on it, but it's a completely different level when you get to choose what goes on there yourself.  I think I'm going to have several made up just in case I run into a scenario where I need people to know that I'm a "Professional Clown Puncher" or a "Human Push-up Machine."  Regardless of what you put on there, I think you should get some.  And then I think you should give one to me because, honestly, I'm all about networking.

- The Bean

My Life is Complete

So I was coming back from lunch with Russ when we saw it.  I think I may have even peed a little bit.  That's how excited I was.  Ever since I was a kid, if there was one vehicle from a major motion picture that I absolutely needed to see close up, it was this:

Russ saw it a few car lengths ahead, so we sped up to try to get a closer look to see if our eyes deceived us. But it was real. Probably just some super fan of the movie that tricked out his car, but it looked so fucking cool you can't even believe it. We pulled up behind it, then we pulled up along side of it, and then we got in front of it. Here's what I saw in the rearview mirror:

How frickin' badass is that!?  I wanted to scream like a little girl.  Honestly people.  As far as I'm concerned, this is as good as it gets.

Also, for those of you that maybe assumed/hoped I was dead, I'm still alive and kicking.  Film school has been pretty non-stop and today was the first day I've actually had free, so I thought I'd try to fill you in.

So for starters, here is where I go to school:

It's called the Los Angeles Film School and it's located on Sunset Blvd (which is Hollywood terminology for "Boulevard."  Actually, it's just English terminology, but whatever.)  Before 1999, the building was an RCA recording studio for a long time.  Artists like Elvis, the Monkees, The Rolling Stones, John Williams, Eartha Kitt (the OG Catwoman), Jefferson Airplane, and others recorded there.  So it's got a pretty neat history.

Anyway, basically each month at the school we have two completely intense classes.  This first month was Film Theory (both a lecture and a lab) and Behavioral Science (or psychology if I'm not trying to dress it up).  There is a TON of hands on experience in the lab, which is the best part in my opinion.  We've learned how to operate a pretty simple camera, we've learned the basic 3-point lighting, we've learned how to line a script and how to set up coverage.  There's so much stuff!  It's awesome.

So far, we've had three filming assignments.  If I wasn't embarrassed by them (mostly because I appear in them), I'd totally post them up.  The first was a project titled "Lost & Found."  It had to be a single shot (no editing) about someone that loses something and then finds it again.  Also it had to be between 30 seconds to a minute.  It was basically to teach us how to tell a really basic story.  The second assignment was a group project titled "Painting" where we had to pick a painting with people in it and basically recreate it with a ten second static shot.  The goal was to recreate the lighting and get as close to the original painting as we could.  To give you an idea of how difficult this project was, for our final ten second shot, it took us a good four hours to get the lighting right.  I have a whole new respect for the gaffer at the end of the movie now.  The third project was titled "Working" and was all about subtext.  Again, it was a single, continuous shot.  We had to select a monologue from a book called "Working" by a dude named Studs Terkel (greatest. name. ever.) and then turn that monologue (about that person's specific job) into a dialogue that had a deeper meaning for the protagonist.  It was pretty tough, but good experience.  

So that's that.  Our first set of classes is now over, which explains this freed up weekend I've got.  But, again, in case you were concerned over my well being, I'm better than I've ever been.  I'm having a great time and finally understanding what it can be like when you actually enjoy school.

I'll try to be funny next time I post, but I just wanted to give a quick update.  Hope you all are doing well!

- The Bean

Wanna Feel Embarrassed for Me?

Have any of you ever wondered what it would feel like to be a disgrace to your heritage?  You have?  Well let's pretend you said "no" so I can explain to you what that's like.  Here in what I like to call "Mexico Jr." I have several "biggest fears."  I know what you're thinking (you're so predictable).  You're thinking "you can't have more than one 'biggest fear' as the word 'biggest' implies singularity."  First of all, don't tell me what I can or can't have.  Second, you don't have to use big words to make me think you're smart.  I love you just the way you are.  Third, please let me finish my story before you try to interrupt me again.  Okay?

Anyway, one of my big fears is that a native Spanish speaker will come up to me assuming I have a complete grasp of the language and try to start a conversation with me.  I, of course, remember bits and pieces of Spanish that I learned in high school.  My reaction is usually the same every time.  It's like this.  Imagine what it must be like to be a baby, completely new to the world, and have a complete stranger come up to you and start speaking sounds you've never heard before.  Yeah, that's what it feels like for me.  And I generally react the same way a baby would.  I'll stare at them for a few seconds, blink a couple of times, make a cute spitting sound, and then I poop a little bit.

I don't know what it is that even makes me seem so approachable.  Whenever I'm out in public, I try to look tough or at least act like I don't want to be talked to.  And it NEVER works.  I think they see the glasses and the gut and immediately think "Yeah, this guy's harmless.  Unless I come at him looking like a bag of candy, I'm probably gonna be okay."  It's crap people.  I like to avoid public interaction as much as possible.  This is not to say that I won't help you if you ask me for it.  I'm just not a fan of the attention.

The scenario today occurred as I was buying a ticket for the subway.  The moment that I stepped up to the machine, I felt this presence over my right shoulder.  Someone just standing there, staring.  It made me more uncomfortable when I realized there were at least three other open ticket terminals.  I was even more frightened when, as I reached down to grab my ticket, someone tapped my shoulder and started speaking Spanish.  I even had my headphones in!  Come on.  I call foul.  I pretended I didn't feel anything but he persisted.  So I popped one of the ear buds out and he starts talking at me a mile a minute.  I pick up the word "ticket" and notice he's holding a coin that looks like a peso.  "Great," I'm thinking "he wants to give me a peso for some real change."  After closer inspection I realize that it's a subway token.  So I ask him if it's one way.  He says "yes."  I show him how to pay for his ticket.  He says "thanks" and I wave and walk away because I can't even say "de nada" without feeling like an asshole.

I don't get how that works.  I helped someone today and I still end up feeling like a jerk.  Weird.  Anyway, seeing as how I'm going to be taking the train a lot more frequently, I foresee this sort of thing happening somewhat regularly.  I've either got to learn to look tougher, or learn how to fake a seizure.  Somehow I think that last one would cause more problems.  Oh well.  

A Mexican looking guy that doesn't speak Spanish.  This is my curse.

- The Bean

Welcome Home!

Or, I guess, welcome to MY home I should say.  I made another vlog.  I never thought I'd use that word, so you have my permission to punch me in the neck the next time you see me.  You should only watch this video if you've got like an hour and a half to kill, because it's long.  Seriously, it's like a movie.  I only had a 1.3 million dollar budget to work with though, so it's nothing special really.

Kidding, of course.  My budget was $0 and the movie is closer to 9 minutes long, which is still pretty lengthy, especially if you find it boring.  Though I don't know why you're always complaining about stuff.  Geez, just watch it.  I'm trying to give you something to help you kill time at work.  Be appreciative.  

I start school next week, so we'll see how regular I can be with the updates and whatnot.  Thanks for taking an interest.  Or, at the very least, thanks for somehow stumbling upon this page and accidentally clicking play.

- The Bean

Rene Goes to Hollywood

No, seriously.  I moved there.  It wasn't all just a bunch of talk like that time I said I'd kill myself if I ever moved to Los Angeles.  I left on Friday October 9th and got here October 10th.  Below I've actually included a small video blog of the trip.  It's pretty dumb and boring but, then again, so are you.  So I don't see what the big deal is.  The trip left me a little beat up.  Oh, and the pill you'll hear me refer to a couple of times in the video is actually something called "ProVigil" which is totally legal (in Mexico).  So here you go:

When I get all settled in, I plan on giving a video tour of the new place.  But be forewarned, my relationship to this apartment is like a kid wearing his dad's suit.  I don't fit quite yet, but I might before too long.

Also, I realize this entry isn't necessarily funny, but as I actually start attending film school, I figure I'll just turn it into a documentation of my experiences.  My guess is that it's gonna last about a week.  Anyway, here's the video.

- The Bean

Let's Have a Lazy Contest!

Okay, so I was thinking earlier today about scenarios in my life that might make me feel as lazy and useless as is humanly possible.  Actually, I wasn't even actively pursuing this thought process.  I realized it as it was happening.  It involved the following:

Me watching Olympic Judo while eating a "S'mores" flavored Pop-Tart.  Hang with me for a second as I explain the full reality of the situation.  Me, an unpolished lump of a man, watching humans at the pinnacle of their athletic prowess competing with one another to prove that they are the best in the world.  Them: holding the hopes and dreams of a nation on their shoulders.  Me: holding a Pop-Tart.

And to stretch that extreme a little further, I didn't even toast the Pop-Tart.  Reasons include the following: 1) I don't have that kind of time and 2) the toaster was all the way downstairs.  I wasn't about to pull a hammy over it.  

I later noticed that my delicious breakfast treat (that I was enjoying around 2:00 in the afternoon) came with a temporary tattoo!  I almost pooped!  But then I hit a snag.  As most of you well know, temporary tattoos involve a small amount of water and some type of washcloth to apply them with.  The dream was over.  I wasn't about to get out of my chair and walk three or maybe even four steps outside of my bedroom door and into my bathroom.  I was already situated people!  But lo and behold, I devised a plan.  I grabbed my water bottle and an old napkin I found on my desk.  The dream was back alive!  

So now I sit alone in my room with a tattoo that looks as dumb as you might imagine.  It says "Pop-tarts" and has a picture of a girl hiding behind a toaster that says "fitting rooms" on it.  She's waiting for the unsuspecting anthropomorphic toaster pastry (also pictured) to hop on in.  Sick bitch.

And that pretty much sums up my existence to this point.  If you're skeptical of my actual laziness, allow me to present the following.  In writing this blog I've actually been somewhat annoyed that I've had to both capitalize and hyphenate the word "Pop-Tart," so much so that I even paused once to try to think of a different word to use.  Before I started I even contemplated not writing this blog at all.  My fingers are weak and tired.  I'm going to bed.

- The Bean

Scars

They say chicks dig scars, but I'll bet you any woman that's ever had a C-section would disagree.

- The Bean

Update 7/31: This quip was actually featured today on College Humor's '105%' article on their website.  I actually modified it a little bit as I knew they'd be looking for an "edgy" or "twisted" submission.  Sure, mine was among many others featured, but I'll take a small victory wherever I can get it.

Double Standard

Why is it okay for a baby to stare at someone it doesn't know for as long as it wants, but when I do it, it's considered creepy? It's like some kind of crazy societal double standard. Is it because I'm wearing a diaper? I only do that because it seems to work pretty well for the baby. Is it the excessive body hair? Because that can't be helped. It's my curse, but it's also a bit of a blessing as it constantly reminds me of how manly I am. I suppose it could also have something to do with the location or the time. Maybe outside your bedroom window at dusk isn't as good of an idea as I originally thought. I always just figured it was kind of flattering.

Anyway, if you happen to notice a dude in a diaper outside your bedroom window tonight, just go about your business. It's only me and, like a baby, I'm just curious.

- The Bean

The Smurfs Visit the Museum of Modern Art

Papa Smurf: (elbowing Handy Smurf) Wow, look how much Picasso accomplished during HIS blue period.

Smurfette: Fuck you.

- The Bean

The Guy That Doesn't Understand Common Sayings

Guy: I just broke up with my girlfriend dude.

Friend: Well, you know what they say.  There's plenty of fish in the sea.

Guy: I'm sorry, are you suggesting I have sex with a fish?

Friend: What? No!  I'm saying there are a lot of other women...

Guy: Because it sounds like you're condoning beastiality. 

Friend: Gross.  Why would you ever even think...

Guy: Though I am a little lonely I have to admit.

Friend: Dude, listen to yourself...

Guy: Hey, do you think the pet store is still open?

Friend: You sicken me.

- The Bean

The Guy That Doesn't Know How to Use Sayings

Guy: Wow, so you're a cancer survivor, huh?

Lady: Yup, tomorrow will be 5 years in remission.

Guy: Well, you know what they say, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder.'

Lady: I'm sorry?

Guy: I mean cancer makes the heart grow tumors.

Lady: What?

Guy: Abscess makes the heart grow pustules!!

Lady: Please leave.

- The Bean

Oh My God I Suck at Life

So I went to a job interview about a month ago.  It was pretty standard and went fine.  The woman wasn't really listening to any of my answers, so I felt good about that.  But as I'm leaving, after receiving the weakest handshake of my adult life, I turn to walk out the front door followed by three random people.  Two dudes that appeared to be good friends, and a woman with a two year old that was doing her own thing.

I'm turning to leave and start to hold the door for these people.  While doing this I catch a glimpse of one of the guys who throws me a polite smile as he's chatting with his buddy, and I'm pretty positive I recognize him as a guy I used to work with that I probably haven't seen in a year.  So my brain starts working overtime arguing against itself that this is in fact someone I know, but then again, no it's totally not.  It looks exactly like him, plus the smile and the cock-back of the head as if to say slyly "What's up man?  Long time no see" are dead giveaways.  The rational part of my brain says "You didn't really get a good enough look at this guy to be positive, plus you know FOR A FACT that this person is currently not living in this state and hasn't been for almost a year.  Also, what's the harm in waiting to make sure it's really him?"  

Unfortunately, the part of my brain that thinks it's funny to be awkward in public gave a big "fuck you" to being rational.  As we're all out the door, I turn again and give a good look this time, just to make sure it's him.

Brain: Yeah, that's totally him.  Without question.  I feel almost dumb that I had to check twice.  Hey, mouth, go ahead and start talking.  Oh, and arm, hand, and finger, go ahead and start pointing at this guy like you recognize him.

Me: (with the biggest, dumbest, goofiest smile you could possibly imagine)  WHAT'S UP MAN!?!

Guy: (pauses to take in the moment.  Smiles in the way you might smile at a retarded person approaching you suddenly to show you how strong they are)

Me: (pausing, now with a half smile, I realize this is not the person I wish it was.  I'm still pointing)  You look exactly like a guy...(I trail off wanting to stop talking, but I can't).  I thought you we're someone else.

Guy: (being polite and trying not to laugh)  Oh, no problem man.  

Brain:  Sweet, we're doing good everybody.  Arm, hand, and finger, go ahead and slowly drop to his side.  Mouth keep talking.  Eyes, keep staring.  You're all doing great!

Me: Yeah, I turned and I thought you said 'Hey'...

Guy: (giving me an opportunity to save face)  No worries.  (He and his friend turn and start walking ahead of me silently shaking with laughter)

Brain:  Okay, I know he's not even looking at you, but keep talking, we can make this weirder.  And voice, be louder.  

Me:  ...And then I thought I recognized you.  Aaaaand I'm still talking.  That was really awkward.  I apologize.

Guy:  (still chuckling)  It's okay.

I finally let them go ahead and build distance in front of me in a hallway that felt like it was no less than a mile in length.  I even contemplated ducking into a women's bathroom just to get away, but I thought better of it.  I just dawdled hoping that they would simply vanish.

Looking back on the day, I don't think I could have made that situation more awkward for all parties involved.  The woman with the baby sped up just to get away from the whole thing.  Even her fucking two year old was like "Seriously man, what was that?  I don't even fully understand the feeling of embarrassment since I'm only 2, but that was fucking embarrassing....I feel embarrassed for you."

I just laughed, because that's really all I know how to do.  It was between that or crying.  And even though my brain thinks public awkwardness is hysterical, it understands that there are boundaries.  Fucking brain.

- The Bean 

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Worst...Roommate...Ever

Okay, so a couple months back a meteor hit.  Sounds awesome, right?  Well it WAS awesome!  Believe it.  Sounds like something out of a movie, no?  Well, hold your horses there chief.  You haven't even let me tell you the whole scoop.  Let's all remember what happens when you assume.  You often look like a stupid dick...or something.  (Seems like there should be some kind of witty saying that goes along with that.  Either way.)

A month or two ago.  It's like 5 a.m. or so and I of course am sleeping.  I begin to stir for whatever reason (probably my superhuman psychic powers warning me that danger was near).  I roll onto my back and I'm half awake in one of those "what the hell time is it and why am I up" moments.  Suddenly, in the distance, I hear a fairly audible boom (or 'superthud' if you will) followed by THE ENTIRE HOUSE SHAKING.  It only shook for a few seconds, but it was definitely noticeable.  

Most people when confronted with this situation would probably leap out of bed to go and check on things: their house, their roommates, their car, etc.  You know, just to make sure the world wasn't actually ending.  Or at least they might sit up in bed and ponder for a minute about what they should do because something very obviously just happened outside.  I like to think that I stand apart from the pack.  Usually in a good way, but I'll take it however I can get it.  

My reaction?  I just laid there for a few seconds and then went back to bed.  But that's not the worst part.  The worst part came in those few seconds I laid there.  When faced with a possible life threatening situation (or at least a huge unknown), I remember thinking "Should I get up to check on my roommates?"  And then I thought "They're probably fine."  And then I thought "I mean, if there really is a life threatening situation, they'll probably come check on me because their room is closer to the danger (plus they're super nice like that)."  And then I thought "Should I feel bad about having thought any of these things?"  Followed by "Wait, what if they got hurt because their room is closer to the danger noise and now they can't come get me?"  And finally "God, all this thinking is making me tired.  I should probably get back to sleep.  Also, if they're already dead, they're still gonna be dead when I wake up."

Does that make me a bad roommate?  Or just the most logical?  Pick a side.

Oh, and here's the news story if you don't believe me:

Awesome Meteor Story

- The Bean

Potpourri 

So you know how sometimes you'll do a burp, but instead of a burp, it makes sort of a gurgling sound and then you get to taste stuff?  Yeah, I just did one of those before I started writing, so I thought I'd share.  

The other day I cut my thumb using the thumbnail of my other thumb.  I wish I could say that I did it while trying to rescue a puppy from underneath a bus, or while rolling a frying pan into a burrito with my bare hands, but I did it trying to get the cap off of some huckleberry body wash.  To be fair, I was gonna use the body wash to blow up a tank, so there's that.

I love the Dog Whisperer.  Seriously, that show rocks my socks.  It's the same exact scenario time after time, but I will never get tired of it.  And it goes something like this.  Dog owner has a problem dog.  Dog owner has tried everything.  Dog is untrainable.  Dog owner is convinced that nothing can be done.  Dog owner calls Dog Whisperer.  Dog Whisperer comes out with 25 cent leash and fixes the dog within 5 minutes.  Dog owner looks on in disbelief.  Mumbles something about "Never thought I'd see that, blah blah blah, etc."  The great thing is that it doesn't even matter what the dog's problem is (it usually ends up being the owner).  Caesar Millan will make you look like a jackass in under ten minutes guaranteed.  Your dog could have murdered people and eaten babies for the last seven years, but you know it's going to be fixed by the end of the show.  I like that consistency.

Have you ever run into a doorframe while trying to exit a room quickly?  Like you'll just clip your shoulder on the way out and it sends you a little off kilter, but you can usually recover from it?  Yeah, I did one of those about a month ago, but I ran into the door frame with the middle of my chest.  I'm still not sure exactly how it happened or what it was that had me excited enough to forget how to exit a room.  (I think there was mention of pizza downstairs or something.)  Regardless, I was still able to recover after only a slight popping sound and some type of muffled grunt.  I'm like a big lovable man child.

Until next time!

- The Bean

I Can See!

So for the first time in 8 years, I decided to get some new glasses. And before you ask, yes, my vision is that unimportant to me.

It's actually quite incredible. You never really realize just how much you couldn't see until you get glasses that work. It's ridiculous. I can see EVERYTHING. I feel like a fucking superhero. Like I can see through time.

Though, I have to admit that when I first put them on and looked in the mirror, I was a little frightened. I guess 8 years of being clinically blind really helped to cement the thought that I had pretty clear skin. When I saw myself again for the first time in so long, I could actually see inside my own face! Huge pores people. Huge. Gross. Let's not talk about it.

Another weird thing is that I can see so clearly now, that if I look in the mirror through my glasses into my eyes on the other side of the mirror through that other set of glasses, I'm pretty sure I can see into my own soul. It's a weird place. It's dark. And it smells like a sock.

Also, before I got these new bad boys, I was convinced that there were only two dimensions. Now it feels like I'm walking around with 3D glasses on (but I obviously don't look as cool as Biff's minion in the first Back to the Future movie).

Is this what you people see like all the time!? Why didn't anyone tell me? You guys are jerks. But lovable jerks.

- The Bean

The Strangest Things I Have Ever Eaten

Okay, so after all the shit talk that came about based on the last two blogs, I feel the need to bring myself down a peg to two.  Certainly I talk a lot of shit whenever there's any type of food that I find to be gross.  However, I'm not exactly innocent when it comes to indulging my own strange cravings.

So here then is a top six list of all the strange foods that I have eaten over the years.  I was gonna go with a top ten list, but I happen to think they're totally overrated . . . Also, I couldn't come up with ten things.  So suck it.

6.  Whey protein powder - (but not by itself.  mixed with a fruit smoothie)  I don't happen to think this one is too weird as it is vanilla flavored and smells like cake batter.  However, this isn't something that normal people do, so I felt it necessary to include.

5.  Milk and pizza - Not mixed together weirdo.  I would have a glass of milk to accompany any type of pizza.  Awesome.  I used to do this regularly.  Sue me.

4.  Part of a blended muffin  - (In my own defense, this was actually Jamie's idea)  We blended a blueberry muffin with a little bit of milk (I think).  This shit sat so heavy in my stomach, that I actually think I pooped  a little during my first sip.  It's debatable though.

3. Lucky Charms with Mountain Dew instead of milk - Freshman year of college.  It was early in the morning and the combination of my laziness coupled with my MacGuyver-like ingenuity gave birth to a horrible horrible breakfast experience.  I thought it would be passable.  I was wrong.  Don't do it.

2.  A glass filled with the following items: Mt. Dew, mashed potatoes, gravy, an orange creamsicle, milk, brownie, and some salt and pepper to taste - To answer your question, yes, it was on a bet.  And to answer your second question, yes, the bet was my idea.  Don't judge me.

1.  A grilled cheese sandwich dipped in ketchup - Come on, I had to throw that in there.  Just to prove a point.  All of the other things on this list I ate willingly.  With that crap sandwich, I was resistant up to and including the point when I took the first bite.  So there's that.  

Cheese + ketchup = cheese and ketchup flavored vomit.  

- The Bean

Traitors

Okay fine.  I lost.  big deal.  To the three people that unknowingly supported my utter disgust in the whole grilled cheese/ketchup debate (Kristy, Lindsay, Dani).  You guys rule.

As for the rest of you (save for Russ who apparently likes to put his sandwiches inside of people), I thought I knew you.  I thought you were my friends.  And I'm not mad at you because you didn't agree with me.  I intentionally made it unclear as to which side I was supporting.  I'm just disappointed that the lot of you would chose to do something so absolutely horrifying to ruin a perfectly good sandwich.  

Hey, I've got an idea for all you sick asses that like cheese and ketchup.  Why don't we take some string cheese, put it inside a hot dog bun, and then slather that with ketchup?  You people sicken me.

Okay okay, I take it back.  I'm speaking out of frustration and anger that I lost this bet which I was so absolutely sure about.  I can't stay mad at you people.  Okay so who wants to cuddle?

I suppose losing the bet isn't ALL bad.  Fortunately I suck at making wagers, so I'm pretty positive that no tangible thing was even being bet.  Therefore, I didn't really lose anything.  We'll just call this one a test run.  But next time . . . . next time people when I give you a choice between two things, please do your best to chose the one that isn't gross and doesn't inexplicably taste like fish sticks.

You all are sick.

-  The Bean

Settle a Bet

I'm going to pose a simple question to all of you.  I'd like you to respond in the form of a comment.  And I'd like you to be completely honest.  There's a lot at stake here.  So here it is:

Have you, at any point in your entire life, ever made a grilled cheese sandwich, dipped it in ketchup, eaten it, and actually enjoyed it?  In other words, have you ever willfully dipped a grilled cheese sandwich in ketchup?

Just leave a comment.  Best of the first 11 responses wins.  Thanks for your time.

- The Bean

A New X-Games Sport?

So I was perusing my spam emails the other day and amidst the ones titled "Enlarge your member" or "Naked teens wet hot meat cam" I saw one that caught me off guard.  You get so many about all the same shit, so they're usually pretty easy to overlook.  But one of them in particular took me by surprise.  It was only three words.  But it was the most horrifying combination of any three words that I had ever seen.  So much so that I couldn't even bring myself to click on it.  It said:

"Extreme cat rape"

WHAT IN THE BLUE FUCK IS "EXTREME CAT RAPE?"  I can't even begin to fathom.  Here's the thing that got me the most.  I think it would have been completely sufficient to just write "cat rape" and call it a day.  Cat rape itself seems 'extreme' enough for most people, don't you think?  Who out there, after hearing about or even witnessing the rape of a cat, would be like "You know, that was pretty decent cat rape, but is there anything you could do to make it more extreme?"

Why would you need to state that it's extreme?  Why!?  Did they do some marketing research and find that people just weren't clicking enough on "Cat rape?"  So they thought "You know what I bet it is?  I bet that the majority of people out there feel like forced sex with a cat just isn't enough.  Let's make it more  brutal.  More extreme if you will."  That's the only explanation.

And if you happen to be one of those people that feel the word "extreme" should ever precede the words "cat rape" then maybe you and I shouldn't talk again.  Ever.  About anything.  Sick bitch.

- The Bean

Pillow Talk

So on Wednesday of this week I received what can only be described as "the most comfortable pillow on the face of the earth as well as the face of the heavens or even the torso and back of the heavens, and you know what, any other place that might have pillows for that matter." It's a Tempur-Pedic which, for those of you that don't understand pillow-speak, roughly translates to "fucking expensive." However, it has thus far been worth it.

How can I adequately explain this to you without getting too graphic? Let me put it this way: When resting my head on the pillow, it feels as though the back of my head is being gently fellated by angels. Too graphic? Okay, fine. Suffice it to say it feels like, whenever I'm sleeping on it, the pillow is making love to my head and face. I had a roommate in college who used to try to do that all the time, but I gotta say it was never half as comfortable as this pillow. You see what I'm saying?

Whatever crazy fucking NASA-approved material they put inside this magic bundle bends and molds and shapes to the size and weight of my head. It tends to my every need, much like an attentive lover. The only thing that would make my sleep situation better would be the worlds perfect blanket, which I imagine to be made up of some space age material that would give me an orgasm every time I rolled over in bed.

You know what? Come to think of it, I'd rather just have a person as a blanket. Someone could just lay on top of me and I'd call that good. However, prostitutes costing what they do these days, I'd settle for a free blanket of some sort. You know a good way to get your hands on a free blanket that I believe to be underutilized? Being a bystander at the scene of an accident. You always see it in movies and whatnot, but the people standing around after the accident (or some other traumatic event) has taken place always seem to have these burly wool blankets. I never really understood it. First of all, why do they do that? Does being witness at the scene of a crime affect your body temperature that much? And if so, why not give out mittens and hats as well. Also, depending on the time of year, are the free items adapted to suit the needs of the bystanders? Like if it were really hot out, would you get some ice cold lemonade and a hand held mini fan you could try to stick your tongue into (you know, just to see if it hurts)?

You see people, these are the questions that keep me up at night. And by 'these' I mean 'this.' And by 'are' I mean 'is.' And by 'questions' I mean 'question.' And by 'keep' I mean 'keeps.' And by 'me' I mean 'a friend of mine.'

Anyway, my new pillow is awesome.

- The Bean

Bus a Move

For as long as I can remember, I've taken public transportation.  It's been an integral part of my life and I've used it more times than I can even remember to get me from point A to point B.  

Actually, I'm lying.  I fucking hate the bus.  I would never ride the bus and I avoid getting on them as often as is humanly possible.  I'm not an idiot people.  Seriously.  I dread the bus and I could probably count the number of times I've ever taken public transportation on two hands.  Maybe two hands plus my penis, which is to say, no more than thirteen times.  I should probably see a doctor.

I can't tell you how many horror stories I've heard of all the crazies that enjoy riding buses.  And I can guarantee that some of the craziest shit I've heard can't compare to so many other things that have probably happened on the bus.  A friend of mine has witnessed multiple hostile situations.  Two drunk guys arguing, I think a Chinese lady got punched in the back of the head another time, creepy assholes constantly trying to hit on any women on the bus that appear to be breathing, etc.  It just sounds awful.

Another friend of mine in Canada witnessed a man whip out his dangle and start having himself some "me" time in front of everyone.  Wow.  What do you even say to that?

It's after hearing stories like this that make me think "why the fuck would anyone willingly take the bus?"  Granted, it's cheaper and better for the environment than driving, but save for all of those logical reasons, it's dumb.  Crazy dumb.  Get a car, or ask me for a ride.  Hell, ask a stranger for a ride.  Some guy did that to me once.  On what would later become the scariest night of my life, I gave a crackhead a forty-five minute car ride around Portland.  You see?  I'm not safe even in my own fucking car!  How crazy is that?  But at least the crazies approach me less frequently than if I were to take the bus.  And I no longer pick up crackheads.  

I don't really even know what my point is.  Maybe just that I hate the bus and I don't think anyone should have to ride it if they know someone with a car.  Seriously, if you live near me and need a ride anywhere, just ask.  I'll probably say no and laugh, but at least you tried.

One last story before I go.  When I was taking the subway in Washington D.C. years back, I saw a crazy man get on.  He waited until the the train started moving and then proceeded to have a very heated argument with what appeared to be the door.  What I'm trying to say is that he was by himself and he was arguing.  That's fine, I don't have a problem with that.  And it was pretty entertaining to watch.  What I found to be funny though was when a little Chinese man got on the train a few stops later.  He got on, opened up his Bible and started loudly singing Christmas carols.  Everyone just pretended to ignore him.  Everyone except for the crazy guy who stopped his conversation with himself just long enough to turn and look at the Chinese man.  He then shook his head in disapproval.  Like it was the caroler who was fucking crazy!?  How's that for perspective?

People are weird.  And buses suck balls.

- The Bean

Ghost Write the Whip

Okay, so today's blog was written by what we'll call a guest author. It was written back in June of last year by Jamie Dunphy. Since I like things that are awesome as well as sharing said awesome things, I thought I would present this for your enjoyment.

What makes this blog more fitting is the release of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull this coming May.

So enjoy it . . . or I'll find you.

I know it may be sacralige, but...

(Conversation that took place almost 27 years ago)

Movie writer: Ok, I have an idea for a movie. Now hear me out. You take a rugged good looking man with a PHD in archeology...ok, ok...and he teaches at a college. But the US goverment comes to him and says that because of his specific expertise in archeology, he is the only person who can save America. Now, a very bad situation has arisen. The...um..the NAZI's have gotten very close to finding the Ark of the Covenant (arguably the most holy of missing idols to all people across the world. This will TOTALLY get the attention of all those Christ lovin' blue-blooded Americans!). So, even though the Nazi's have spent years looking for the Ark...the government thinks this doctor can find it in only two days. So he does. And...umm... he finds it, and it's in a big-ass pit deep down in the ground and, even though there is no light, or air or anything, it's full of snakes...POISONOUS snakes! Oooh! Oh, and the doctor hates snakes...so he has to try and deal with all these poisonous snakes. Anyway, this archeologist barges into a big ol' pit, and just knocks unimportant shit out of the way and grabs this ark thingy, but of course, the evil NAZI's see that he has found it, and they steal it...oooh. Then they lock him in forever. But the doctor breaks out in a matter of two minutes. He knocks down a big ass wall with a statue of a screaming wolf thing, and I'm thinking that for some reason there could be a bunch of dead people who scream and shriek and such. Just for effect...you know. Then they just move a teeny tiny block out of the way and they're free. Then they steal back the ark, then the Nazi's steal it back again. And then he rides on the outside of a submarine that never goes under the water. Then he suddenly has a bazooka. Then he just doesn't use the bazooka. And the Nazi's take the ark from the top secret, very nice and modern looking base, and march it up a scary ol' mountain to a big platform where some dude starts chanting and opens the ark, and the ark kills everyone, but the doctor knows not to look, and it doesn't kill him because he didn't look.

Movie Producer: Yes. YES! Here is a large pile of money in a burlap bag with a big dollar sign on it.

The final result: Raiders of the Lost Ark is a stupid movie. The end.

- Jamie Dunphy

So there you have it. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did.

- The Bean

Facing the Va-Giants

So I just finished watching one of the biggest cinematic dumps in history titled "Facing the Giants." First of all, no, it's not about giants. There are no giants or other people of abnormal size in or around this movie, so don't bother. Although, one of the actors in the movie was pretty fat. Maybe in the high seven hundreds or so. But he wasn't what I would consider a "giant." More like a really pudgy blanket.

If you've never seen it, please allow me to spoil it for you so that you may never have to see it. It took me three agonizing half hour installments in order to watch it, so I think it's only fair to spare you that hour and a half of your life. It's basically about a very whiny, balding man. He cries about everything and he mopes about and he wonders why life sucks. He's the crappy coach of a crappy football team. He whines because his football team sucks, he whines because he can't get his wife pregnant, and sometimes he whines because he whines.

Then he asks for God's help. Yeah, I know. That's what I said. The movie is basically a Bible ad surrounded by a formulaic football movie. He asks for God's help (who didn't make an appearance the ENTIRE movie) and, go figure, his team wins. But here's something I was thinking about for the whole movie. Whether you believe in God or not, this guy is still a whiny douchebag. And I think that's the underlying plot point that you, as the viewer, are supposed to take away from the movie.

So the movie is actually about metaphorical giants. Big stupid metaphorical giants. Also, the team they play at the end is named "the Giants" just in case you didn't follow the metaphor.

Anyway, there's no real message here. Just don't see the movie. It's painful.

- The Bean

Diane Keaton's Vagina

Okay, here we go. If any of you were immediately offended by the title of this particular blog, you can thank my friend and former roommate Jamie for that bile taste currently in the back of your throat.

He suggested that I talk about what Diane Keaton's lady parts would "taste like after they've been soaking in a hot tub filled with apple juice all day." Wow. He paints quite the picture with words, doesn't he folks? I contend that her womanly bits would most likely taste like said apple juice, and nothing more.

Have any of you ever heard of a grapple? And I don't mean like wrestling. I'm talking about the fruit. It's basically an apple that's been injected or infused or something crazy like that with grape flavor (natural grape flavor i would assume). I've never had one, but crazy scientific combinations always pique my interest. Like pluots, or clamato, or . . . peanut belly (It's my combination attempt for peanut butter and jelly. I didn't have any other items to list, leave it alone.)

I was interested in trying the grapple in the first four minutes or so after I heard about it. Then, my logical thought process led me in this direction:
"Grapple? What the hell is that? . . . . Well, it sounds like a combination of things. Maybe a grape and an apple. God I'm smart. I wonder what that would even taste like. Man, I'm hungry. . . but I'm also kind of fat. So maybe I shouldn't be thinking about food right now. I should do some situps. . . But I'm so fucking hungry . . . . hehehe . . . sofa king hungry . . . funny. (three minutes later) . . . It looks like an apple but tastes like grapes? Why wouldn't I just eat grapes then? What a dumb fucking invention."

And that's where I would land on it. Oh wow, an apple that tastes like grapes! You know what else tastes like grapes? Fucking grapes! And they're cheaper too. I don't think that the design of the grape is particularly flawed really. They're not cumbersome or unwieldy. They're grapes for Christ's sake. If you can't get a handle on a couple of grapes, then my bet is that you can't grab on to an apple real well either. So maybe just stick to picking and eating your scabs. And stay away from Diane Keaton's vagina if at all possible.

I'm only trying to help.

- The Bean

Idears

Hello all. Happy new year and whatnot.

Pleasantries aside, I was thinking about writing more blogs this year. I wasn't making a resolution, mind you. Let's clear that up right now. Resolutions are all bullshit.

I was just wanting to write more things. More stuff, if you will. (I know, I'm a poet with words. Suck it.) More blogs, actually. I've been writing skits and sketches lately that I've kept private, which have successfully helped me prevent writing anything here.

Anyway, I was just going to put this out there to ask any of you (all five of you) for suggestions of topics to write about. If you want me to address anything (save for politics and other boring shit like that) that you enjoy or detest, let me know. Just leave a comment at the end of any of the previously written blogs on what you think I should write about. In the meantime, I'll continue to come up with my own stuff. But at least this way there will be more accountability as far as posting more blogs.

So there you have it. I'll cater to your needs, much like an attentive lover. And if I don't know anything about what you suggest, I'll see how well I can fake my way through it.

Take care!

- The Bean