With Friends Like These...

Best Friends don't let you do stupid things . . . alone!

                                         

                                                 -Unknown

I was recently "un-friended" on a social network site and It really bummed me out, primarily because I refuse to accept that "un-friend" is a real word...no matter what Urban Dictionary says.

This unfortunate event stirred a bit of conversation between me and my writer friend,Todd, in that we were trying to form a viable answer to the following questions:

What constitutes the designation for "Best Friend?"
Can you have multiple best friends and have them vie for BESTEST status?
What time does Theo's Pizza close on weeknights?

Todd is fun to hang out with, but we usually inadvertently get into trouble together for reasons which are not readily known to us.  Especially with his wife, Melissa.

As an example, see: http://pontchartrainpress.blogspot.com/2012/03/meeting-of-mindless.html


We arrived at one mutual agreement that if someone referred to either of us as their "BFF" we would punch them in the neck and light them on fire, then we ordered a pizza.  By the way, Urban Dictionary online defines "BFF" as either:

Best Friends Forever or

Big Fat F*ck

16-year old kids who use the term "BFF" get a free pass.  Adults...punch in the head and a trip to the Houston Burn Clinic.

I consider Todd to be one of my better friends; I would consider BEST friend status should he decide to divorce his wife who hates me.   At any rate, either he or I must put on a few pounds to earn the second designation from the Urban Dictionary.

As I contemplated writing this article, a close friend of mine chimed in, asking how I knew who my real friends were. By "close friend"  I mean that we shared a couple of evenings of late night  "relations" several years ago and still manage to look one another in the eyes. 

I answered her question by immediately distributing a text message to three people with the following note: (This is something that I call a topic grenade.  Pronounced: Prompt them do some free work for me.  Heheh.)

"Writing a new piece ...How does one know who their BEST friend is?"

Twenty consecutive texts in five minutes seemed to be an excellent illustration for her.

Lets look at a couple of the things that I found in online research and personal text messages.


Lynn: My best friend is Lydia

Jim: How long have you known her?

Lynn: 7 or 8 months.  She told me after the first couple of months that I'm the best friend she's ever had.  That's sweet huh?

Jim: Have you, by chance, ever watched the movie "Cable Guy?"


Honestly, I cant even muster loyalty to a new grocery store product until a year has passed...much less for a human being. I have cereal in my pantry that's been there for a year and I still don't hold positive feelings for it.

A best friend, in my mind, is measured in the following way:


Me: I have a problem

Marie: Shoot!

Me: I already did. Now there seems to be a dead body in my living room. We may need to chop her up in order to not draw too much attention in carting her away.

Marie: OK...Be there in 10. Game Of Thrones is almost over.

Me: Excellent. Don't tell me how it ends...I haven't watched it yet.  BTW, can you bring some old quilts, rubber gloves and some cleaning supplies?

When I floated this storyline, I received a lovely email from Caroline. She advised that:

"Jesus Christ is MY best friend;  Isn't he YOURS?"


I appreciate JC and all that he did; I'm sure that his final days were a painful experience.  It also triggered a holiday full of festive hats, candy, a mythical rabbit and wide social acceptance for one to wear white in public.  However, I tend to assign the "BEST friend" title to one who can give me a ride to the airport and/or loan me 20-bucks here and there.


My friend Kristi tells me that her best friend picks her up when she's feeling down. And...she even bought her a burial plot.


So long as she's not the beneficiary of a major insurance policy, I suppose I'd be somewhat OK with that arrangement.  But, it's still a little creepy for my taste.

My editor, Mike, informs me that his mother is HIS best friend. What a shock.


I could have never been best friends with my mom. Primarily because best friends are those with whom you can share your deepest and darkest secrets. For instance, my story of having sexual relations in the trunk of a car on a country back road with the state governor's niece many years ago would go largely unappreciated by dear mom. Bob, on the other hand, feels strongly that I am a super hero.


From our chief Pontchartrain Press research machine, Eric:

A REAL friend will go out and get two b**wjobs then come back and give you one.

An oldie, but still funny Eric. 

I can also count on research requests from Eric to never end with just one text:

Why won't you move to Philly dude?

I usually inform him that I love Philly and the Reading Market Place, but I will move to Philly in the event that they move the city approximately 900 miles south.  Blunt honesty is a virtuous quality amongst friends as far as I'm concerned.

A long time ago a studio producer friend at the radio station, who I considered to be a close friend and confidant, borrowed his friend's car with strict instructions to NOT smoke in the vehicle as his friend is a non-smoker.

My producer dropped his cigarette onto the seat of the car and it caused a major burn mark on the upholstery.  Needless to say, he experienced a state of utter panic, wondering HOW he was going to explain the damage.

As a true friend, his lifelong childhood friend came to the rescue by putting the car into neutral and letting it roll downhill into a tree.  The airbag deployed, covering the upholstery with a white powder.  Then he gave my friend a 16-ounce Budweiser.  Problem solved I suppose.


According to a Glamour Magazine tidbit, one best friend scenario goes something like this:


Gun Man: I’m going to kill your best friend miss
Stu: No take me instead!

This has a Tim McGraw song title written ALL over it.


According to Oprah online:  "Men are happy to silently watch sports over a beer. Psychologists call these side-to-side relationships, versus female's face-to-face ones. Women like to engage in conversation; men like to bond over an activity.  Anyone who's seen men sit and watch the game while the women gab in the kitchen knows it to be true."

Thank you "O" for assuming that women don't watch sports...and, seem to belong in the kitchen.  Heheh.


At the end of the day, it's my experience and observation that a true friend will:

• Take one for the team (yes, you know what I mean)
• Bring you chicken noodle soup and a gallon of vodka when you're feeling blah.
• Comfort you when your heart is a wee bit empty
• When you go to the restroom, they'll give a fake excuse to someone regarding a potentially fatal social disease to a person who's hitting on you
• Give you a lift to work, the airport, the grocery store or to Barstow, California
• Help you move and (most importantly) move forward
• Urinate on your ex-boss' Infinity door handle
• Tell those who bring hurt to your world to "piss off."
• Correct YOU when you bring hurt to another person's world
• They will feed your dog and, generally, NOT sleep with your significant other when you go out of town

I have no clever way to end this piece before turning in for the evening other than to say, I go to bed one social network friend lighter and many real life friends heavier.  A much more fortunate place to be if you ask me. 


Perhaps one of my good friends, Tony, puts it best...

"Best friends don't give up on you.  And, you don't give up on them."

Now, if anyone feels so inclined to send me $20-dollars, email me for my address.  If you'd like to drop it off in person, I DO still have leftover pizza.

“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for”

                                                                                                        -Bob Marley

Yes, this friendship has been called into question.  Heheh.  BFF!

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013 

　

Confessions From A Hotel Concierge

A friend of mine recently took he and his family on vacation to Denver, Colorado.  I helpfully reminded him that there was no snow there in July.

He had such a good time in the Mile High city that he's seriously considering a move. 

He also informed me that his hotel concierge staff were nothing short of spectacular in securing useful information about relocation to their fine city.

There are many helpful traits which a good hotel concierge possesses. In addition to being snappy dressers, day in and day out, they cheerfully greet transients while exhibiting unswerving abilities in order to ensure that one's vacation, business trip or spousal cheating excursion is nothing short of spectacular.

"Of course we can arrange for a bottle of champagne AND we'll have that Mexican brass band promptly delivered to your room Mr. Smith. Will MRS. "Smith" be joining you later?  And, if so, should we post security outside your room?  We don't want problems from the large gentleman who showed up looking for Mrs. Smith outside your door the last time you enjoyed a stay here. 

By the way, the Loco Latino Explosion Brass Masters might be a tad late; Enrique' is having trouble with his VISA paperwork again and Carlos is changing his cousin's car battery. Will you require a roll of garbage bags, cleaning supplies and a shovel again this evening?"

I strongly suspect that there are many things that a hotel concierge has to deal with.  Equally, I'm certain that there are, decidedly, many things that a good concierge chooses NOT to inform their globe-trotting guests.

For instance, in Omaha, Nebraska, they might remind one that they are in the middle of a state which is known for nothing in particular other than it's a long state where it is unwise to purchase a mobile home.  It's also the birthplace to Johnny Carson and home to a giant insurance company which used to sponsor "Wild Kingdom."   Oh, and it's a haven for several radical religious terror groups who got tired of living in Montana. 

BUT, it IS bursting with some of the finest steakhouses on the planet. One of which is suspiciously located on the second floor of the hotel and will cost approximately 3-thousand dollars per person.

In West Los Angeles, you might be pleased to learn that the drive out of Santa Monica up the Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu is stunning, dotted with cliff side mansions all the way. 

What you probably do not care to learn is that it's rumored that one of the Backstreet Boys engaged in a slightly homosexual 3-way in room 743.  And, the gentleman who just valet parked your car is wanted on three gang-related infractions, is ducking child-support from five different women and is, likely, having sexual relations INSIDE your car with a housekeeping attendant.

Let's take a look at New Orleans, Louisiana. Home to some of the best Cajun and Creole cuisine on the planet. A virtual mecca of world famous plantations, corruption, potholes, jazz & blues artists and architecture that is absolutely timeless...when drunken tourists from Knoxville, Tennessee aren't urinating on the front door step.

What Frederick, the helpful concierge at the Ritz, might forget to tell you is that New Orleans is also home to a city council that regularly walks out of it's OWN sessions. Where city leaders come to work to find that their entire staff has walked out on the job.

Then there's a tiny inconvenience where, should you choose to call the Big Easy home, one might arrive home at the end of a long day to find that his/her room mate across the hall has employed the services of a 20-dollar Meth-infested hooker while the kitchen is on fire. Simultaneously, the next door neighbor is being mugged in front of no fewer than four trans-gender prostitutes down the block.

At least such a scene makes it easier on city first responders since all emergencies are confined to a small area; I'm a big fan of multi-tasking when it saves tax dollars for our children.

Not that I'm intimately familiar with the aforementioned scenario...I simply have a vivid, um, "imagination."

I've spent a considerable amount of time over the past two-months trying to better understand things about myself, others, the city in which I live and why professional soccer seems to NEVER take a seasonal break.

I remember, from years ago, when I first contemplated a move to New Orleans. I witnessed the following exchange between the hotel bellhop and a guest:

Guest: So, I'm thinking about accepting a relocation opportunity with my company and might move my wife and the kids down here. Any neighborhood suggestions?

Bellhop: (Laughing hysterically before walking away)

A concierge would have handled the previous situation much more professionally and less jaded in demeanor. He or she would have simply stared blankly at the guest, pretending that they didn't hear the question while blocking the guest's view to the side lobby, where it seems that a young man is urinating into the giant lobby flower pot. The concierge then cheerfully recommends a swamp tour.

Fact of the matter is: I like this city; I like MANY cities. I'm sure that there are days when others feel jaded toward their respective homes. To put it another way, I certainly grow weary of New Orleans on some days, the same way that (while I LOVE pizza, fried chicken and Taco Bell) I do NOT care for it every single day of my life.

Of course, the argument could be made that a cheesy crust pizza with extra meat is not capable of robbing you at gun point outside the front door to your house.  That's a job for the 19-year old kid who is staking out the block.

I like living in an urban setting which happens to be filled with cabs, culture and unique characters. By the way, there's something very "New Yorkish" about a city where one might incorporate the services of a taxi in taking their walk of shame upon exiting the front door of...whatever his/her name was...the following morning.

I don't know the first place to begin in advising someone of the pros and cons of living in New Orleans, Los Angeles, Baltimore or Seattle.  I've been to those places and had a fine time...from what I can remember. 

I also cant tell you WHY people fall in or, sadly, out of love.  Or: 

Why the sky is blue
HOW the Red Sox are maintaining their top position in the standings (Keep it up!) 
Why a fried chicken establishment in this city feels that a 3-piece chicken dinner is worth $12-dollars (mashed potatoes are $4.25!) 

What???  Is there another potato famine that I'm unaware of?

But, I digress.  Since it's been pointed out that I tend to stray off point from time to time...I'd like to bring our story back on track by wondering how funny it would be if, when the great Keanu Reeves flubs a line in a movie shoot, a director released a pack of hunger ravaged coyotes onto the movie set, where they gnaw at his twisting body while he screams in agony.  Or, the director could just release an acting coach onto the set...whichever would be most beneficial to the motion picture community.

Summertime is indeed a great traveling season; It's also known as a "growing season."   Perhaps a time for one to explore a big world that we all share.  It's a time for fun or, indeed, a time to scout prospective relocation avenues.

Either way, as I ultimately advised my buddy: 

Do your  homework. 

Life is quite different beyond the sliding glass lobby doors of the Holiday Inn Express.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013



 

Vacations: And Other Reasons Why I Cant Have Fun

Mike Klein: Gonna go ahead and take liberties to post this strand myself, since I know that YOU'LL do it anyway.

James Patrick: Why would you assume that?

Mike Klein: Because, I know you.

James Patrick: I'm somewhat bruised that you'd think such a thing. Assumption leads to a dark and winding path of wrong turns you know? Typically, assumption is punctuated with deflated hopes, dreams and bad decisions; Sort of like the new Fox program concept, "Sleepy Hollow".

Mike Klein: What other sorts of "bad decisions?"

James Patrick: Assuming that it might be a sound decision to hire a hooker. Or, on a random Thursday, deciding that you've had enough shit from your boss so you stroll into work with a smile on your face (with slightly crazy eyes) and punch him directly in the nut-sack before emptying your desk and telling the annoying person who sat next to you for 10 miserable years to f*ck off, followed by 8 shots at the nearest pub while one contemplates how to fake his/her death in order to disappear. And/or scrapping the afforementioned plans and just do the Thursday crossword. (Late week puzzles are quite difficult).

Mike Klein: That's quite a vivid and outlandish asumption.

James Patrick: Precisely; Sort of like my assumption that the book I wrote seems to be taking you and your staff 473-thousand years to edit and pitch. Did your assistants work for NASA at some point?

Mike Klein: Very funny. Editing is a form of art. It takes time.

James Patrick: Art? I didn't know that you painted. Can you do a nude portrait of me on top of a vintage Corvette? I'm wading through a mid-life crisis. Seeing how, since my book is not edited, I don't have enough money to actually purchase a douche-bag automobile...so, at least I can assume that I have one by looking at a beautiful portrait that you and your group of "artists" might concoct.

Mike Klein: Welcome back.

James Patrick: Thank you.

Truisms Or Dare

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.

-Mark Twain

This is a little piece that I will call a "transition story arc." Mike, the editor, will call it a rant. The saving grace, in my mind, is that I often couldn't care less what Mike thinks. So, it evens out.

Our friends at Webster's online define truism as:

Adjective: an undoubted or self-evident truth; especially: one too obvious for mention

　
Note to our fun-loving college kids who are perfectly happy with being "C" students: 

When doing research papers after 17-thousand shots of Jameson, you'll be happy to know that the brain trust at Wikipedia label Truism as a NOUN. 

I suppose I shall name my next pet "Truism" and then do a shot. Feels like college all over again!

　
I know a gentleman who uttered something that truly offended today.  In the interest of protecting his identity, we will call him Steve...primarily because his real name is Stephen.  Granted, it's quite hard to offend me but Stephen, I mean, Steve did.

　
An important scad of background on this guy includes the following:
　

1. He's a genuinely kind individual
2. He's been through a volatile relationship, which is on the mend
3. The relationship turned south due to his significant other abusing alcohol
4. He's a homosexual

He, I and two other mutual friends were sitting in front of a restaurant where they work, waiting to go on a quick grocery store outing, when he dispersed several epithets toward a young woman with whom he works.  Granted, SHE couldn't hear his foolish words from the car, but he needlessly uttered them anyway.

　
By all accounts, these two get along at work, they work well together and there's zero animosity between them. She's also well liked around the neighborhood and seems to be a kind soul.  Steve just felt it appropriate to repeatedly call her "fatty" behind her back.

　
I've written a great deal of inappropriate humor, sometimes at the expense of others. But my regular readers know that I NEVER poke fun at Hispanics, they seem to be able to handle that all on their own. If you don't believe me, visit a Latino bar sometime. Plus, I'm having new sheet rock hung next week and I don't want to piss them off.

　
I also don't tell "fatty" jokes...primarily because there's not enough room on a typical laptop screen. And I don't poke fun at or perpetuate stereotypes toward young African American men...because I don't want to get shot and/or carjacked.

　
Aaahh HA! See where I'm going with this? I'm not a bleeding heart left-winger, primarily because I don't want to anger Sean Hannity. I DO, however, judge those who arbitrarily judge books and covers. I've read lots of books and peeked past many covers. If you don't make this a regular life routine, try it sometime...you might be pleasantly surprised.

　
With all silliness aside, I wondered how in the world that a 50-year old gay man, who grew up in a society steeped in judgemental attitudes toward HIS lifestyle could possibly lob such comments toward a person who I know to be a hard working, sweet and caring individual.

　
So, I called on my good friend, and Pontchartrain Press' chief story research manager, Eric for some background studies on hurtful words and their implications upon society.

　
Eric does good work but, sometimes when sending his findings back to me, goes off in unrelated directions. I eventually tend to get the info I need...and some info that is, decidedly, not needed.

　
Jim: I'm doing a quick piece on a 50-year old gay man who works with a very nice young woman. Not realizing that I am also friends with her, he repeatedly called her "fatty" behind her back. I waited to call him out when we were one on one, but I want to write about this. Any research you can find that would help the story along would be great!

Eric: Is this one of those SAT math word problems? 

Jim: Can you please do some research before I book a flight to Philly and kill you?

　
Eric: There was a study a few years ago about the MOST offensive words in the English language.

　
As it turns out, the top four (in order from most to least) were:

　
Fat
Nigg*r
Nazi
Cu*t

Jim: Thanks for your help. See ya' soon

　
Eric: I was surprised that F*ck wasn't on the list but even MORE shocked that FAT was number one!

Think about this...every girl thinks she's fat...even if she isn't. Call a girl fat and she'll stab you in the balls.

At any rate, it explains why my old band, "The Fat Nigg*r Nazi Cun*s" never made it big.

　
Jim: Interesting. I'm gonna get back to writing. Thanks again for the research.

　

Eric: Unrelated, but I f*cked two girls named Ginger this week. They may not have souls, but they got PLENTY of DNA.

　
Jim: Are you clinically insane?

　
Eric: Perhaps. The one Ginger was a blast. She liked to be abused and verbally degraded. I let off 20-years of pent up aggression on her and she has been begging for more ever since. She's such a filthy whore...and she's not fat. I think I'm in love.

　
Well, I can always count on Eric to provide more than enough background research on a story. Plus, our communications remind me precisely why I do not accept dating advice from him.

　
So as not to cast a stone from my own glass house, yes, I have slung unfair, judgemental commentary toward and about others...and I feel absolutely horrible about it...with the exception of everything I've said or written about the band Nickelback. Simply dreadful music.

　
People will always make fun of, ridicule and degrade other people...as a society, they always have and, likely, always will. Just watch an episode of The Voice or Chef Gordon Ramsay.

　
As for myself, I'm having a nice dinner with the young woman in question right now while looking across the table, keeping a hurtful secret about her co-worker. I'm also, oddly, wondering what having crazy sexual escapades with TWO Gingers in one week must feel like...but I'm not about to text Eric again for the answer.

　
With that said...I like to lob more educated insults toward those who deserve it:

　
Webster's Online Dictionary

dick; (dik) noun; Slang for detective

Adjective: derogatory term for penis

Noun; Shortened name for Richard

Noun; Glen Beck,  Bill O'Reilly, Jim's boss, Al Gore

Real world: a label for a narrow minded asshole who should be ashamed of himself. (that one came from the Jim Patrick dictionary)

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2013

Pulling The Wings Off Of (OK) Cupid

...or, there's a reason it's just "okay"

 

     One of my close friends, Marie, who also happens to be a senior writer at Pontchartrain Press, recently had a little too much time on her hands. She, typically, has free time because she's constantly beating her deadlines in order to kiss Mike, the editor's, ass.  At least that's what I suspect.  

So,She decided to pass some time by engaging in a little small-talk with a young man on a popular dating website.  And now...Here's Marie's attempt at dating: 

 

While I never visit these sites, occasionally, I do get e-mail notifications from OKCupid telling me that "someone has checked me out" Translation: visited my profile or that the site has new matches for me.**

**new members that seem to fit some criteria that makes them a recommended date.  In my case, probably a serial killer and/or suicidal.

Today, the subject line was "Someone has chosen you!"

The text of the e-mail had a picture, screen name (SkinnyPaleGuy), and the following insight:

"He's totally into you! Go send him a message. You got this email because he rated you 4 or 5 stars."

 
 

How was I to resist?

 

I went to his profile, where I learned that:

 

•  He doesn't use capitalization
• Is admittedly shallow
• And, likes using uncomfortable truths to make people squirm

 

His profile also indicated that he "replies often" to e-mails and was only interested in women.  Unless you're a guy that looks like Chris Corner of Sneaker Pimps...then we can definitely talk".

 

He also included a mirror self-pic of his bare chest and stomach with the caption:

 

"i admit the torso pic is pretty douchey, but you have to be a little bit of a douche to use a dating site in the first place so whatever. i'm not above it. i'm not really above much of anything, for that matter. i'm a shameless human being".

 

HOW could I possibly resist having some fun with this guy after reading his tag line??

 

Marie- I am writing to test your "replies often" status. And also, because the site told me too.  Plus, I'm just a sheep that does whatever the Internet tells me to do.

 

Oh, and because the site tells me that you rated me "4 or 5" stars. I didn't realize that my profile could be graded like a restaurant review; so now I have to know: was it 4 or 5? And why is this site so vague about it? I mean it was EITHER 4 or 5. Why not tell me which?

 

For the record, I am sending this message before looking at the torso pic that you mention in your profile. I'm putting off viewing your, admitted, douchery until I see if you really DO "reply often".

 

SkinnyPaleGuy- yes, i really do reply often! i'll admit, sometimes i'm tempted to ignore a few messages just so i can get one of those snobby elitist "very selectively" tags. i bet there are actually women out there who won't date a guy if he doesn't have one of those. like, she thinks "i'm not dating a guy who 'replies often'" ya know? but i just can't bring myself to ignore someone

 

as for the rating, i gave you five stars. what i do is, i just go to the "quickmatch" thingy and just keep hitting five stars over and over again without even looking at the pictures or reading anything. it's like casting out a huge dragnet of mass-market dating!

 

it's actually a pretty effective strategy. i've been fucking like three or four women per day on average

 

i bet you wonder if i'm kidding or serious lol

 

Marie- Hehehehehe....no, I feel very confident that you're kidding. If it were true, you wouldn't have time to "reply often".

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - well, your confidence is misplaced because i am totally serious lmfao!

 

and yes, time is my number one enemy. there never seems to be enough of it (or enough condoms)

 

so... wanna have sex?

 

Marie - In general, or do you mean with you, specifically?

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - lmfao! perfect response :D

 

i like you

 

Marie - Thanks. And thanks for pulling your dick out of someone long enough to provide a timely response to an email.

 

And, for the record, I have a post-slutty-phase philosophy to which I strictly adhere. I don't sleep with anyone I don't like, or who doesn't like me...Or who doesn't respond to emails in a timely fashion. So things are looking good for you.

 

I'm not trying to be coy or hard-to-get...because I am neither of those things. I'm just old and wise. Oh, and I have a very complicated schedule, one which requires thoughtful planning and may interfere with you fucking all of the women, or that one guy from that band you mentioned.

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - no pulling out was necessary. this is my "down time," hence why i'm on okcupid in the first place

 

i can work around a complicated schedule because there is no schedule more complicated than my own

 

i must warn you, my penis is habit forming

 

Marie - Yes, but your personality may be the first step in breaking the addiction. (See how I worked a "dick" reference in there? I'm good with the words if you notice)

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - what are you talking about? my personality is pure, distilled awesome sauce! i realize now that i should've ignored your message to earn my "very selectively" tag

 

now go check out my torso pic and see what you cheated yourself out of by being a mean jerk 

 

Realizing that this was a lost cause, while sincerely not wanting to be seen as "mean jerk", I made an attempt to apologize; An attempt that soon went south because sometimes there's just no stopping me once I start sinking.  This is something that my therapist calls:  "Self Destructive."  Whatever THAT means.

Marie - I've been known to be a bit TOO snarky in my attempts at witty repartee. Please don't take it personally. I'm sure that you have a lovely penis. Probably the BEST penis of all time.

The "More addictive than heroin, gonna have to get on methadone, someone-pull me out of the crack-gutter cause' I'm hooked on his jock most habit forming penis of all time.

Whew!!  Seriously. Congratulations on the nice genitals.


And there you have it.  My adventure in online dating and, apparently, the reason why I fail so miserably at it.

Post Script from Jim:  BRAVO Marie!  This is why you are so valued as a friend, a writer AND a woman with large breasts on the staff.  He should have seen YOUR torso pic.  His loss. 

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013

On My Way (Back) To The Forums

It's been a long while since I've rolled up my sleeves and trolled the treasure trove of forums and chat rooms that Al Gore's® Internet invention has to offer; I actually forgot how addictive web surfing can be.

For instance, recently I found myself enjoying an iced tea (pronounced: Jameson and self regret) with a couple of buddies and the topic of conversation turned to the following:

"How old is Kenny Rogers?"

I'm not sure, exactly, how or why Kenny Rogers came up in conversation between me and the guys but I feel that it's a clear indication that I need to find new and more exciting friends.

When I returned home later that evening, I pulled out the laptop and visited the most reliable research engine on the Internet (Wikipedia) in order to confirm Kenny's age.

The Internet is a lot like Walmart, in that there's no such thing as a "quick visit" and there's usually a pedophile or two lurking somewhere. 

Upon learning more than I needed to know about "The Gambler", one click led to another until I eventually found myself online for approximately 6-hours.  My, seemingly, simple web session transported me to fascinating places...such as:


The Internet Movie Database
Home Depot

E-How: "How to convince your ex-girlfriend that you're NOT an asshole"
Genealogy.com
E-Lyrics: Keith Urban "You'll Think Of Me"
Profiles of notorious mass murderers in the United States
Paula Deen's Chicken & Wild Rice made simple
How to not be an ass-hat
Facebook (stalking)
Match.com
E-How "How to convince your ex-girlfriend to have sex with you"

and, finally, a porn site titled:

"Indiana Bones And The Temple Of Bootie"

By the way, Kenny Rogers is 122 years-old. His face is only fourteen.

After an endless web surfing session, I felt that it might be time to continue with a long overdue project that I documented a couple of years ago. The piece was titled:

                                                 "On My Way To The Forums"

http://pontchartrainpress.blogspot.com/2010/08/on-my-way-to-forums.html

So, once again, I've spent the past seven weeks getting to know many wonderful people around the planet via forums, boards, chat rooms and social sites.

First up...

Ferret Lovers.com

I have absolutely NO problem with owning a rodent and I have a larger appreciation for those who inherit these lovable creatures after their 12-year old child becomes so bored, apathetic and lazy to the point where the kid nearly starves these defenseless creatures to death.

If you ask me, ferret lovers are TRUE humanitarians and it's high time that they receive the respect they deserve. After all, ferrets ARE one of God's creatures, otherwise Noah wouldn't have placed two of them on the ark. Here's my entry into the (short lived) world of ferret chat:

Slimshady: Anyone know of a good recipe for grilled ferret?  I have some snow peas and water chestnut to go with it...I need to use the veggies before the expiration date.

Angel: WTF?

Slimshady: Since you asked, he's right here with me.

Angel: I didn't ASK anything dick...other than WTF???

Slimshady: No need for unpleasantness.  You wrote: WTF..."Where's The Ferret?"

Angel: That's not wat I meant, and you know it.  I'm not sure if you know much about our community but much of wat we promote ctrs round rescuing abandoned and unwanted ferrets and we're sanctioned by the SPCA.

Slimshady: You do love abbreviations don't U?  Or, RU missing keys on your keyboard.  I am...but that's a long story which primarily centers around an urgent situation where I had to drop my computer bag from a balcony ledge.  It was a fun evening though. 

Angel: You probably don't even KNOW what SPCA stands for...jerk.

Slimshady:  I know what SPCA, GMAC, FreddieMac, ACLU, GDP. SDI, STD and DMV stand for...pretty impressive huh?  (Well, except for STD.)  I didn't know what DP stood for until my friend, Darrell, explained it to me.  He likes to watch a lot of pornographic videos.  BTW, earlier, you misspelled "what." WTF?

Angel: You are ignorrant. We're trying to serve a humane cause by giving homes to thousands of abandoned and unwanted ferrets. Do you know why????

Slimshady: Because they were initially an "impulse purchase" at Pet Smart?  BTW, you misspelled ignorant.

Angel: You must have a lot of time on your hands!

Slimshady: Given my current relationship status, yes. The ferret actually belonged to my girlfriend and she offered to move it to her sister's house because I have a cat and a dog..I also accidentally stepped on it one evening after staying out all night with my buddies. 

 

I actually just wanted my girlfriend to move out now that I think about it. BTW, I noticed that there's an icon on your site titled "Modern Ferret." Does your ferret use the Internet or play X-box? If so, I'd love to chat with him/her sometime.  How can you tell a male from a female ferret anyway? 

Angel: I'm done with this convo.

Slimshady: OK. Nice chattin' with you Angel. I'd love to come by and meet you sometime and maybe we can enjoy a test tube of water and five or six Cheerios with the little guy. 

I'd also love to learn  some tips as to how to remove the putrid smell that ferrets emit in the house. If there's time for a sexual encounter, that'd be great also...between me and you, NOT the ferret.  LOL.  Anyhoo...Take care. TTYL.

Next up, I decided to get to the bottom of the trials and woes facing seniors by educating myself via the AARP website.

Jim: I'm soooo sick of dog food. Any ideas?

Moderator: Are you serious? Do you need assistance through a local outreach facility?  I noticed that your profile indicates that you live in New Orleans.  We work closely with a Catholic Charities facility in your community.

Jim: No, I'm afraid of Catholics.  Actually, I'm really afraid of the Pope.  
 

 

I live in an assisted living apartment complex, so I have shelter...I'm simply not able to stretch my social security through the month so I run a little short on or about the 20th of each month, so I eat dog food. 

Moderator: Goodness! We have outreach availability through our membership program if you need it.

Jim: Is it covered via Obama Care? Because according to the Tea Party and Fox News, it's not.  I have limited government funds since I'm not Canadian, a U.S. politician or a Cuban refugee. How much is membership?

Moderator: $16.00 and it covers spouses too.

 

Jim: Whoa!  $16.00 would buy a lot of dog food at the Save a Center!

Moderator: It covers you AND your spouse...and there are numerous programs that can help with food and housing needs.

Jim: Thankfully, my wife is dead. She was such a bitch...I also suspect that she slept with Mike Ford back in 1973...he was our next door neighbor...he's dead now.  

The wife and I stayed together for the kids sake...and for the incredible sex, until she turned 49. That's around the time when I began "staying at the office late" working on "projects" with my secretary.

Moderator: Hmm. Out of curiosity, how old are the kids?

Jim: 58 and 66. They're absolutely adorable!

Moderator: I see. And how did your wife die?

Jim: She "fell" from a 4-story balcony one night while I was trying to watch the new Hawaii Five-O program on the CBS television network. 

Moderator: I think it's time for you to move along Jim.

Jim: Yeah, that's what my kids tell me after Sarah died. Sarah was my secretary.

Moderator: No...I mean to another website.

Jim: Ok.

I'm always on the prowl for the next BIG business opportunity. If I could find one which allows me to watch ESPN all day, WHILE I earn a living, I'd be in HEAVEN! 

After stumbling upon an advertisement for Career Builders.com and their professional online counselling program, I figured it to be a potentially enlightening prospect to confirm my top career options.  After all, we all want to make sure that we're chasing the "best suited" employment path.

　

Steve: I'm Stephen and I'm here to guide and help you today. We match the right talent with the right opportunity and do so more often than any other site.

Weezer69: Thank you Stephen.  Is your name pronounced Steph-aahn (short "A"), or Steeeven)?

Steve: Long "E."  How may I assist you with your path to the future today? 

Weezer69: Are you a computer? Judging by the way that you write, you sound a little rigid. Are you having a rough day or do you just feel a little backed up in the doo doo department? 

BTW, my name, Weezer, is pronounced with a long "E."  It's looooong...at least that's what SHE says.  LOL!

Steve: I'm going to have to insist that we keep the chat engine application professional.  I'm a real person...I assure you. How can we begin building a gateway to your future today?

Weezer69: Steeeeeeve...first of all...you are NEVER going to get laid if you speak the way you write. Not that I get laid either, but I don't get laid for numerous reasons.  Neither I, nor my therapist, can explain how this came to be my lot in adult life. 

I suspect that my ex-girlfriend, likely, has a few ideas on the subject...none of which still make any sense to me.

Steve: Did you need legitimate assistance with our site or counselling resources today?

Weezer69: Actually, yes. I'm completely satisfied with my career and the company but I absolutely HATE my manager. 

Hate is a really strong and unprofessional word now that I think about it...let's change that to abhor. 

Fact of the matter is that I really wish that the company owner would wise up and fire, I mean, terminate, him...or simply explain to me why he makes 5-times more than I for doing nothing but screw around on Twitter all day long and engage in intercourse with several of our interns.  He even has a company GAS CARD!

Steve: I'm not sure that our site can assist, unless you're looking for another place of employment or a career change.

Weezer69: No...I don't want a new place of employment at all...I haven't had to purchase green tea, toilet paper or salt and pepper in years...thanks to our employee break room.  Plus, there are sooooo many hot girls who work here, one of which just lost her children to Child Protective Services in a nasty divorce proceeding.  You know what that means?  She has the apartment ALL to herself!. Sure, she might be an unfit mom or a total nut job, but there are certain acceptable flaws that I'm able to live with.  In manager lingo, that's the old baggage not outweighing the benefits rule Steve.   

What I need advice from you for pertains to an entirely different area. I want to know how that one might be able to kill their manager and get away with it...kind of like O.J.  Only not with a knife and a small glove...I gag at the sight of blood.  And, I don't own a pair of gloves.

There MUST be some sort of pill available to the public that might make it appear as though he had a heart attack or something...sort of like the stuff that the CIA uses on foreign despots that we simply wish to "go away" after we're finished aiding their own warfare efforts with a mutual enemy...unless you ask George W. Bush.

System Admin: account suspended pending review

Steve seemed like a nice guy,  but I'm somewhat irritated that he called the "System Admin" police out on me.

One of my fondest childhood memories centers around the motion picture release of Star Wars.  My father took me to see it on opening night and that evening will forever hold a special place in my heart. 

With that, I decided to surf over to one of the (too many) Star Wars chatrooms where I made a few new friends.  I adopted the name of Jabba The Hut's little pet, Salacious Crumb.

When these Star wars guys aren't talking all things Star Wars, I'm sure they're doing important things, such as raising a family, constructing a home made light saber or fantasizing about Princess Leia chained to a fat, menacing blob in her sexy slave outfit. 

Salacious Crumb wrote: Does anyone else feel a little let down by the fact that Carrie Fisher looks like a bloated saddle bag and sounds as though she's smoked 800-million packs of cigarettes?

Boba Fett47: She's still hot to me.

Salacious Crumb wrote: Gross. 

Boba Fett47: What's gross about it??

Salacious Crumb wrote: I would rather see Skywalker's Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen engaged in a full-blown "69" position over seeing Carrie Fisher naked today!  Of course Luke's family is dead now...with the exception of Leia.  How creepy is it that George Lucas wrote a scene that nearly brought about incest between Luke and Leia???  I'll bet that he was molested at a young age.

Anyway, I'd rather see the emperor naked in a 3-way with auntie and uncle.  I actually cried when I first viewed that scene of their charred remains.

Boba Fett47: Seriously?

Salacious Crumb wrote: Yup.  It reminded me of my own deceased aunt and uncle.  Only they didn't burn to death at the hands of the evil Empire (not Clear Channel Radio) in order to quench Lord Vader's quest for galactic control.  They burned to death because of a lit cigarette in bed.

Jabba Wabba: LOL!  That's effed up dude.

Salacious Crumb wrote: Which part?  Hey...did anyone else in this room ever wonder why Chewbacca's penis wasn't visible?  I mean, you can plainly see the package on all other animals...even those little yappy fur ball dogs, which are typically owned by a high-maintenance girlfriend who likes to shop and yell at you all the time.

Force-Full: You cant see his dick because of the fur.

Salacious Crumb wrote: I'm, oddly, aroused now.  Most importantly, I cant even believe that you actually KNOW why Chewie's penis isn't on display!  Have you EVER had sex?  Hookers don't count.

Boba Fett47: LOL! 

Salacious Crumb wrote: Now that I think about it, I'm a little disturbed that there are, apparently, 46 other Boba Fetts on this board Boba47.

Aretoooo-Deeeetoooo:  Aunt Beru was hot!

Salacious Crumb wrote: These are not the droids you're looking for.


Leave it to the geeks, living in a basement somewhere in a fly-over state, to NOT toss me off the chatroom.  Let that be a lesson to you before making fun of a geek.  They, obviously, have mediocre judgement in character...and for that, I applaud them.

Although I spent my childhood summers in the country, I've lived in the inner city for a better portion of my life.  As opposed to farm girls, inner city girls don't seem to understand simple things...Such as how to milk a cow, gather eggs, not be psychotic, not to have sex with your room mate, etc.

I felt it to be an excellent idea that I return to the roots of yesteryear in the dating department with the assistance of Farmers Mingle.com.** 

**Not the actual website name.  It seems that the farmers "web massah" don't have no sense of humor...and Pontchartrain Press cant afford a lawsuit right now. 

I found a lovely young farm girl who I feel is the perfect match for me.  Yee-Haw!

Mr. GreenJeans:  Greetings!  My real name is Jim, but I thought Green Jeans was a cool name since I always wondered if he was a REAL farmer when I watched Capt. Kangaroo as a kid.  Judging by his demeanor, I suspect that he grew marijuana...given the era and all.

Anyway, I'm 5' 11'' blonde hair, blue eyes and I weigh 160lbs.  Although, I've put on a little weight lately since I've been making poor life decisions.

Kassie: LOL!  What kind of life decisions?

Mr. GreenJeans: A new Taco Bell opened down the street from my house.  It's the first one in Orleans Parish since Hurricane Katrina, which I think serves as a true testament that this city is SERIOUS about rebuilding!

Kassie: You're funny.  So, have you ever farmed or lived on a farm?

Mr. GreenJeans: I have indeed. 

Kassie:  What did you do on the farm?

Mr. GreenJeans: As I recall, I cried a lot because my parents dumped me there each summer for three months.  Other than that, I split a lot of logs and baled hay with my uncle and his farm-hand, Mr. Billy.  That is, until Mr. Billy touched me in an area that my mother described to the authorities as "inappropriate." 

Which is funny, because when my first real girlfriend, Andrea Pearson, touched me there, it was nothing short of spectacular.

BTW...When I say "short" I don't mean "IT" if you know what I mean.

Kassie: So, why did you and Andrea break up?

Mr. GreenJeans: She was, tragically, killed in a car accident.  Her dad drank a lot and he ran over a mule and buggy...they lived near an Amish farm.

Kassie:  Well, Mr. GJ, it's been nice chatting with ya.' If you're ever near Western Kentucky, stop by for a visit.

Mr. GreenJeans: I can be there by 9am tomorrow.

Kassie:  Um, seriously? 

Mr. GreenJeans: Yeah, I don't see any need to waste time.  I'm a good judge of character just by talking with someone. I can already tell that YOU are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Mr. GreenJeans: ????

Kassie: Member has logged off

So much for blue skies and fresh air.  Sigh.

I finished my session with the fine folks at a Turrets Syndrome support group.  Please forgive me for, what I will call, a bit of gratuitous nonsense.

Community Member Jim: FUCK MY BALL SACK!

Admin: User Account Suspended

You got to know when to fold em'

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013

 

Author's Note: This is a piece which is presented as a belated birthday gift to a talented comedy mind, Eric frrom Philly.  It also represents two important aspects which comprise my character...I hold total disregard where dates and time are concerned, and I'm a cheap bastard.