TV, Girls, Such and Such

On this weeks episode of the podcast Chris and I spent some time talking about new TV shows, or rather Chris listened to me talk about the girls I like on new TV shows. I do enjoy watching pretty girls on TV, but I was surprised to learn that some of my favorite shows of all time didn’t really have very many women I was attracted to on them. This got me to thinking, are beautiful women on TV good for ratings but bad for overall quality? That would be a really interesting thing to write about. But that seems like a lot of work, and God oh God damn am I lazy.

The first show I talked about was Last Man Standing, the new Tim Allen show. It’s a safe bet for Timmy Al in that it’s essentially Home Improvement but with daughters, so seemingly they can get the Home Improvement audience to watch. However, who was the Home Improvement audience? A lot of my friends watched it, but I maintain that if they watched it today they would see that it was a piece of crap, so they probably wouldn’t like Last Man Standing, which from what I can tell is better than Home Improvement, but that’s not saying much. I think Home Improvement also claimed a lot of middle aged viewers, who are now probably old perverts, and the show has a couple of hot girls on it, so that will be right up their alley.

What a sweet ass

The next show I talked about is New Girl, the Zooey – contemplates whether trying to spell her last name from memory or going straight to google is faster, and now decides going to google is the right answer – Deschanel show where she lives with three guys. This is where I first noticed that Zooey Deschanel has a nice set of thighs. Yes, I am a leg man. I don’t really know what Zooey Deschanel’s butt looks like. I only typed that because that was what I was thinking. I didn’t really want you to know that’s what I was thinking, but it’s a true thought. On the show she wears a lot of frilly dresses, short frilly dresses, so it’s rare that you actually get to see the curvature of her butt. “Oh baby, the curvature of your butt is turning me on so much.” Just thought it’d be funny if someone said that.

The show isn’t great, but it also isn’t horrible. That’s the extent of my thoughts that don’t include Zooey Deschanel.

The final show I talked about is my favorite of the three by far, and that show is Suburgatory. It’s about a dad and daughter from New York City who move to a suburban neighborhood where everyone acts very stereotypical yet it somehow still manages to be entertaining because the characters are kind of all stereotypical but in their own way. It’s quirky and generally smart, which is nice in a comedy. The greatest examples of combining silly and smart are Arrested Development, my all time favorite show, and Newsradio which goes from Andy Dick smashing through a window straight to Dave Foley making a political joke that my 12 year old ass didn’t understand but probably still laughed at. Those are my two favorite shows of all time, so I love when shows can figure out how to do silly and smart well. This show does it pretty well so far, but what the hell does that have to do with girls?

Jane Levy

The female lead is a cute red head by the name of Jane Levy. She’s very adorable and although her character is only 16 she’s really like 19 or 20 or something over 18 so I can say she’s attractive without feeling creepy. So I’m very attractive to her as an actress, but her 16 year old character I have no feelings on (because that makes sense…) It doesn’t make not sense (smooth). Also I’m very attracted to Cheryl Hines. I don’t know why I’m so attracted to her, but I am. I mean obviously she’s a beautiful lady, but she’s not so much in my age demographic. I should be mulling over the likes of Selena Gomez, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber (because you’re a 15 year old lesbian?) Nah man, it’s ‘cause I’m hip to the hopity (well obviously).

If you like stuff that’s hip to the hopity like me (quit saying that) then click on this link and listen to the recent episode of The Closer To Clarity Podcast, where this week Chris and Quentin – or I, I suppose – talk about the aforementioned TV shows, Halloween, Books about believing in God, and a girl named Beb.

This Week In Quentin

What if this post was just about things I put in my ass this week? And I don’t even talk about them. I just make a list. A penny, triple A battery, dildo, not so lucky rabbits foot, cats tail while still attached to the cat. But that’s not what this post is about. This is just another excuse for me to write about my life, or rather my lack of life, seeing as I do nothing all the time, and exceptionally well if I may so as far as complimenting myself.

So in the past week three girls of my past that I haven’t talked to in months have contacted me essentially saying that they miss me, and what I mean by essentially saying that they miss me is that they literally said, “I miss you.” This happens a lot to me. Not to give myself any credit, but if I’m good at one thing, and there’s a lot of evidence to support that I am only good at one thing, it’s that I can get girls who live thousands of miles away to like me. However, I can’t get them to maintain that liking. Because in order for them to miss me they have to go awhile without talking to me, and that’s usually because I scare them away or God hates me and puts tons of attractive boys around them which are much more appealing than me.

So I’m not surprised that these girls miss me. I’m a great guy….um with the asterisk that I’m only great if the girl just got broken up with and is lonely and needs someone to sheepishly heap praise on her – all of which I firmly believe they deserve. But what I am surprised with is that these three girls all contacted me within the same week. Very odd.

I feel like they must all be in on this together. “We’ve all broke Quentin’s heart before” (to be fair only one of them did) but none of them slept with me, which is much worse than breaking my heart. All the guys in the house feel me!? (Not a wise thing to say when the only people ever to read this blog are girls and one guy who isn’t gay but finds penises to be attractive) so anyway back to my girls of my past talking to each other thingie…”We’ve all broke Quentin’s heart before, but that’s beginning to be no fun and way too easy. I say, whichever one of the three I may be,” I’ve got my guesses, “we all try to break his heart at once. The broken heart trifecta. It will be priceless.” Ha! Tough luck doing that. Little do they know I no longer have a heart. Just little red chucks of former love coated with bacon grease. So jokes on them.

Except not really. This whole three girls contacted me within a week thing would be a whole lot more interesting if it didn’t now coincide with Annabelle now officially not talking to me in a week. The old Quentin would be freaking out right about now. Worried that she might’ve found some other guy, with a bigger dick and way bigger wallet. But the new Quentin remains calm…knowing that of course she found some other guy with a way bigger dick and way way bigger wallet.

I kid, I kid. But seriously, this has happened to me way too many fucking times, and I don’t write this for pity or anything because I bring this on myself. First off I’m a terrible human being who deserves no love. But more so than that I go for all the wrong girls. The ones way out of my league and incredibly far away from me. I don’t know what Annabelle’s deal is. But I guess I’m just going to accept it as the end for now again. It sucks because I thought we were as emotionally connected as we’ve ever been, and she gave me plenty of reason to believe that we were waiting to be with each other. I mean nothing big, you know, just when I asked her if she would wait to be with me she said yes. But in her defense she might have thought I said, “Are you gonna leave me because I’m ugly and have a big nose?” (Enough with the self deprecation) In my defense I only do it to hide the pain…and also I deserve it.

I don’t know. I love Annabelle. It sucks how much I love her. At least parts of her. And not just her big boobs, even though I do fashion myself a boob man. She has an amazing personality, so this ending, if this is in fact the end, at least for now, really sucks because there are so many beautiful girls, and while there are so many great personalities, her personality was so super special.

I wasn’t going to talk about all that that much. I wanted just a paragraph or two on it. Let’s move on. This is nothing but a transitionary paragraph. Transitionary isn’t a word apparently. But adding ary to the end of words is excitingary.

On that youtube thingie I came across this singer I kind of enjoyed. She’s really cute. Far too cute for me to care about. Her name is Jayme Dee and she’s like almost a perfessional singer but not quite yet, but her videos have a lot of views but they’re mostly just covers of popular songs but in her own style, or maybe not her own style, but in a different style than the regular versions of the songs, which is something I like when hearing covers of songs.

I wrote this thing yesterday. Today Annabelle told me she’s dating someone else. I told her I love her and I hope he makes her the happiest man in the world. I got angry. I did my best to hide it from her, but I’m fucking angry. Not at her. So this is goodbye…until three months from now she calls to say she misses me…and my life is forever on repeat.

#9 Breathing Is Overrated

#9 Remember To Breathe by Dashboard Confessional

This is the final Dashboard Confessional song on my list, so I guess this officially means Remember To Breathe is my favorite Dashboard Confessional song, which isn’t that shocking because on multiple occasions I’ve listened to this song back to back or even back to back to back or even back to went to the bathroom to back to took a nap to back.

I have trouble remembering to breathe sometimes. I’ll just be standing around thinking, “I wonder what that girl thinks about me. She probably hates me. Although when I text her she returns my texts. Which is more than I can say for other girls. Although she does often return them with, ‘please stop txting me.’ She’s just playing hard to get. Holy crap, did I stop breathing? Hmm, I’m not really sure, I better wait this out…yep, I’m not breathing. How do I breathe again? Oh yeah, just take in air. Whew, that was close.”

I’m a pretty nervous person. Actually very nervous person. I worry a lot. I have very little in person experience with women, which means whenever I know I’m going to be with a girl, especially a girl I like, I get very nervous and start over thinking things and it takes a while for me to calm myself down.

I remember one night I was going to hang out with Shane and his now ex girlfriend Kayla, and Angela was going to be there. The last time me and Angela had seen each other was a week previous where we drunkenly bonded – I think drunkenly bonded usually means sex, but in this scenario it means I explained to her why Maria Sharapova was wrong for saying she did a 360 with her performance when she should have used 180, and somehow Angela still found me to be cute. It was a big deal to me because at the beginning of that summer we were all together at a lake and I found her super adorable and developed a crush on her, and somehow on the day after my birthday we found ourselves together with her surprisingly laughing at my drunken attempt at conversation with a girl a million times out of my league – at the time, and it still may be true, I proclaimed Angela to be the most attractive girl I have ever seen in person.

To find out the next day from Shane that she enjoyed my company was a great feeling. So to have the chance to hang out with her the very next week was of course nerve wrecking and I’d rather save myself embarrassment by not going and instead listening to The Best of Boy Bands in the 90s volume 2 – I would never really listen that, of course because it could never top volume 1, winky face.

Before going to hang out with her I remember listening to this song, a couple times in fact. Its calming message calmed me. I don’t know why. I still don’t know why. But I felt things would be okay. And even though I was nervous and thought I’d make a fool of myself I went and we had a fantastic time and it was the start of something beautiful…

Wait, although the night wasn’t horrible I made no progress with her and completely acted shy and spent the night hating myself and regretting every moment I didn’t say something witty or interesting to her and a month later she ended up calling me a creep.

But the point is…um, I guess there is no point. This is still a good song though.

Getting Progress Part 4

I did a good deal of helping my mother out with work this week. I need to get a car and a license so I can help her out with work in Vancouver (Washington) more often. Although having a car would take away from a part I really enjoy. There are two theaters over there that we get work for regularly and they’re a little over a mile apart so when I work both those theaters I just walk from one to the other, which would seem like a hassle but I really enjoy the walk. I get to listen to a podcast in peace while I enjoy the scenery. It isn’t much of a scenery but every once in a while a girl with a very nice butt walks by, so that’s enjoyable – not that I specifically go out of my way to look, but I’ve noticed that every time I’m in Vancouver I see a decent amount of attractive female posteriors, I’ve started work on a theory.

I got to watch Transformers 3, not that I really wanted to. Because of my semi busy schedule I had to watch the beginning on Wednesday and then the latter half while sitting in the very front row on a packed Friday night showing. I’m not a big Megan Fox fan so I wasn’t up in arms, or penis in hands, about her not being in the third installment. On the other hand, the one not yet being occupied by my penis, I am now a decently sized fan of Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. And when I heard her English accent she went up half an inch on the boner scale – unlike the usual rating system of 1 through 10 where people argue over what makes a 9 on one persons rating different from a 9 on another person’s rating or whatever there’s no arguments with the boner system because there’s a clear difference between one girl getting a five on a boner scale going up to six and a five on a boner scale going up to seven and a half, and on my boner scale a girl getting a five is only theoretically possible (in case this was all too confusing that’s a small penis joke).

I don’t like accents at all. I mean I do like accents, but I don’t like the hold they have over people. Why the hell should the sound of someone’s voice have any effect on my sexual attraction to them?  But here’s the more confusing part, an accent on a hot girl makes her more hot, but an accent on an unattractive girl somehow makes her even more unattractive. Seriously, think about it. Are you thinking? David Beckham, hot. Piers Morgan from America’s Got Talent, fucking ugly as fuck. Okay, he’s not super ugly, but he’s a known dickhead so I just wanted to call him ugly. The point is I don’t want to fuck somebody’s accent.

There’s this girl I really like with a Texas accent. She ain’t famous, she’s just some girl I met once upon a time. This is relevant because I was just talking about accents, but also because I am getting negative progress with this situation. Not in the sense that I’m trying to hook up with her and she’s ignoring me, but in the sense that I told myself to stop thinking about girls, and all I find myself doing is thinking about her. We talk on the phone pretty often, although only at night and it always ends with her falling asleep on me.

I’d like – although not really at all – to think that’s the way girls see me. She can have her day doing whatnot and having all kinds of fun and then call me at night for a few minutes of conversation as I bore her to sleep. There’s a certain comfort needed when falling asleep, so I at least provide that, right? Right? I can be the guy tucked in the closet while the girl is being fucked by some more attractive guy, and afterwards he can pull me out of the closet, nestle me up for some cuddles with the girl, and then be on his way to watch some ESPN with a beer or whatever the hell guys do.

It’s not favorable to my productivity that talking to her has become the thing I most look forward to. If there was a second thing I most look forward to, and there probably is, it would be doing the podcast. The podcast has been a bright part of my life over the past year and a half. I’ve been disappointed with not keeping it consistent, but in June eight episodes were posted which is more than one a week so I’m happy for that.

Well I’d love to talk more but I gotta go work out – by work out I mean eat a whole bag of popcorn with extra butter, but I don’t want you to know that because I fear being judged, except by God, God judging me just makes me laugh.

Getting Progress Part 3: Whistling Urine

There still hasn’t been any progress attained. In fact I may be making backwards progress. I’ve been a good deal lonely this week, which is not a feeling I care to have. I wish I could turn the loneliness into anger because I could then turn that into progress, but this wasn’t angry loneliness. This was the basic lay in bed listening to sad songs thinking of her loneliness. But no one wants to hear my sorrows, so let’s move on to better things. Boo loneliness, yay Cars 2.

Actually nay Cars 2. I had to help my mother with work this week and that required me to watch Cars 2. I’ve never seen the first Cars. I’m not hugely fond of animated movies to began with, even though I’m aware Pixar makes amazing movies although the half an hour of Up I watch was thoroughly unimpressive, although to be fair I was watching it at three in the morning sort of drunk lying on Nathan’s couch after we had gotten back from a club with only two rules, everybody gets some but Quentin and Nathan, and the bathrooms must be packed with people and inane chatter at all times making it hard for Quentin to urinate because he’s wildly narcissistic and assumes everyone must be trying to sneak a peak at his thoroughly unimpressive cock, which gets us back to Up, which gets us back to animated movies, which gets us back to Cars, which Quentin also didn’t see because sadly he has no interest in cars, even animated ones (apparently this is written in third person now) just the way Quentin likes it.

I guess the second one was entertaining. I could see how kids would enjoy it, but it wasn’t very funny. Wall-E was much more hilarious. Oh good lord the fat people. So hilarious. Actually Wall-E is the only movie I can think of where I fell asleep in the theater. I had stayed up the whole night and had to help my mother with work, which is pretty much the only time I go to the theater. I had a bunch of extra time to kill so I watched Wall-E and was enjoying the first part of it, but then once all the action started I got incredibly bored and tired and fell asleep and when I awoke everyone was fat and floating around drinking food through a straw. If I’m spoiling any of Wall-E I apologize, but then again I can’t be that sorry otherwise I just would have deleted this paragraph. I think Wall-E is wildy overrated, granted I have no idea how much people really do love it, I just don’t give it much credit for its dystopian version. People seem to make that out like it was brilliant or something. I think most of us have been well aware that we’re becoming incredibly lazy. It’s not like it was some Inception like concept. Here’s how the meeting for the movie went,

Guy 1, “Hey, Guy 2, you know how everyone is getting lazier?”

Guy 2, “Shut the hell up, I’m trying to take a nap.”

Guy 1, “What if we exaggerate it by like a million?”

Guy 2, “How’s that interesting at all?”

Guy 1, “We’ll add a cute little robot.”

Guy 2, “Brilliant!”

Listen, I’m not saying Wall-E is a horrible movie by any means. All I’m saying is that it’s really hard for me to jerk off to a robot love story (that’s what was being said?)

I also got to watch a little bit of Bad Teacher, and if I was a horrible film critic I’d say, “The teacher wasn’t the only bad thing in this movie,” but I’m not, so instead I’ll stay away from the cliché and just say that this movie taught me well in the ways of bad film making. I only saw about half the movie, and it wasn’t that great, but I wasn’t expecting it to be as soon as I found out it was written by two The Office writers who I’m not particularly fond of. I was glad to see Phyllis from The Office get some nice laughs in the movie though.

So in conclusion Wall-E is better than Cars 2, Up has a grumpy old man in it, Toy Story wasn’t talked about, I’ve been pretty lonely this week but I don’t want any help from Cameron Diaz, and I prefer peeing in solitude because I like whistling to myself.

#29

#29 War All The Time by Thursday

This is another one of those songs that I discovered on Christopher’s mp3 back in high school. I have vivid memories of being at Tony’s house and coaxing Christopher’s mp3 player away from him so I could listen to this song and others while Tony and Christopher talked about who knows what. That is absolutely all I have to say about this song. You’d think maybe I’d have something to say about the lyrics and the meaning or even war, but nope, I’ve got nothing.

I’m not really in the writing mood for some reason. Or at least a mood for this kind of writing. I feel like I have nothing to say regarding any of the thoughts I may have. It’s scary to feel like this. It makes me think, “What if I really don’t have anything to say? What if I have no good thoughts? What if all I really can do is make half assed masturbation jokes? What if I put half of Kim Kardashian’s ass together with half of Jennifer Lopez’s ass? Would I masturbate to that? What if all I could do was think, but I could never express the thoughts?”

I want to punch him in his stupid face so badly. And then I want to kiss his pretty little mouth...wait, what?

I get little motivations every day. It’s ridiculous regarding the form in which I get them. I was talking to some girl I like today and she was talking about how she wanted to see The Green Lantern because dreamboat Ryan Reynolds is oh so sexy. First of all it made me think less of her because she wants to see a bad more just because some hot guy is in it. Then I thought about all the terrible movies I’ve watched just because some girl I liked was in it (Raise Your Voice starring Hilary Duff). Then I hated Ryan Reynolds forever, even though he’s probably a nice guy, but I hated him anyway because he got to have what must have been the prettiest sex ever with one of my favorite women, Scarlett Johansson. Then I got sad because I realized I would never be as hot as Ryan Reynolds. Crazy to be sad about that, right? Especially considering it’s completely out of my control to the most largest of extents. Sure I can work out to try and get a better body, and believe me come morning I’m going to work extra hard thinking of Ryan Reynolds (masturbation…kidding), but I couldn’t control how short I am, or how large my nose is, or how pointy my elbows are. Oh how I would kill for Ryan Reynolds elbows.

This is my life. I get sad about things out of my control. I imagine I have that in common with a lot of people. It’s a completely ridiculous trait that given the circumstances should be completely controllable. Unfortunately I’m not really sure what the circumstances given really are.

For the past month I’ve been wanting to watch Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. There’s another man I hate for absolutely no good reason. I at least like most of his movies, so it’s not based on that. I even recall being a fan of the Kill Bill movies, and I usually hate movies like that. The problem is that he will always be the best Quentin to have ever lived. Probably not morally, but rather in terms of biggest impact. See the stupid things I get upset over. But I own Reservoir Dogs, yet I’m still too lazy to pop it in the DVD player and sit for an hour and a half enjoying it. Would I enjoy it? I haven’t seen it in like two years. I think I would still enjoy it.

I go to the park to play basketball with myself on some mornings. Recently there has been an old Asian man on the tennis court doing some kind of karate moves with a real sword. I like the world.

Acoustic version of War All The Time by some random chick on youtube if you’re at all interested. I was.

By the way, when I went to google looking for a picture of Ryan Reynolds being all sexy-like and my computer froze for a little while and I was stuck looking at about 30 pictures of Ryan Reynolds looking far too good for any man. It was very depressing. This is how my life works. I’ll never forgive you for that, God.

Getting Progress: Part 2

In short: I got zero progress this week.

In long: I spent way too much time being depressed this week. I’m not even really sure what the fuck I was depressed about. I didn’t work out much this week, so that sucks, and might have something to do with my downer attitude. I feel better when I work out. I’m not a work out nut, and if you could see my body you’d see that it goes without saying, but you can’t see my body (luckily), so the only way it goes is with my saying. I mostly didn’t work out much because I kept waking up so damn late every day, except for the day I went to Christopher’s to record the podcast, which was exciting, except for staying there until midnight mostly playing Peggle and then walking home and not being able to sleep until five in the morning, which kept me on my horrible schedule.

God hates me. God doesn’t exist of course, which is a shame because what’s life without an omnipotent being to shit on me. Why does this nonexistent God hate me? Well I am a nocturnal creature, and maybe that has more to do with my genetics than God, but I am far more depressed during the night than the day, which is part of the reason I like to wake up early, so I won’t have to be up all night alone with my thoughts and endless internet porn that while aiding in my favorite pastime now only makes me more depressed.

If there was ever a picture to encapsulate what I wanted to say in this post this would not be that picture.

No one ever in the history of the entire universe would ever care for what I’m about to say, but this week I didn’t masturbate that much. If you want exact numbers I don’t have them – last month for budgetary reasons I had to lay off the crew I hired to keep data on how much I masturbate – but on two separate occasions I went more than 24 hours without masturbating, which is very rare for me. As you all know (because it’s mentioned constantly) I masturbate a lot. It’s something I’m not afraid to share. I should be afraid to share it, and don’t get me wrong I am definitely ashamed of it, but I’m a big fan of honesty, even unwanted honesty, like how much I masturbate. I’ve mentioned here before that I’m a morning masturbater. It helps wake me up. But on the morning before I went to Christopher’s house I didn’t masturbate. Very unprofessional of me considering I was going to record the podcast, and having not masturbated that day I was very off my game.

Depression does weird things to my masturbation habits – yes, this has turned into a post solely about me masturbating, so the faint of heart, or just those only interested in interesting writing, can turn away now. When I’m really depressed I don’t want to masturbate at all. All the times when I stringed together a fair amount of consecutive days without yanking it were times when I was really depressed, no doubt always girl related. But when I’m only kind of depressed, or mildly depressed – which is most of the time – I masturbate a shit ton. I don’t know why I said a shit ton, because if there’s one thing I don’t want to be thinking about when masturbating it’s shit. Could I masturbate to 2 girls and 1 cup? That’s a tough question. Obviously it’s no. But if the girls were hotter it’s a definite yes. I hope their parents don’t read that and get offended.

How is any of this related to my progress is life? The short answer is that it isn’t. The long answer is that it is. But that’s a lot of explaining I’m far to tired to do at five in the morning.

Link to the podcast I did with Christopher where we talk about old news and God and other things.

#47 There’s Still No Damn Pillow Under My Ass

#47 We Will Erase All Life On Earth But Us by Say Anything

There are a lot of living things that I would like erased from this planet, Osama Bin Laden, pretty much all insects, that annoying dog next door, that guy who left a comment on my blog calling me a douche because I don’t like How I Met Your Mother, but I’m not sure I would want all life erased on Earth but you and I. Granted I don’t exactly know who the specific you at this moment is, and I’m sure you’re a fantastic person, but I just don’t think I can handle it from an internal standpoint, so what I’m trying to say is that it’s not you, it’s me. I’m breaking up with you and all hope we once had of getting along in this end of life as we know it scenario I just made up is now gone.

I don’t really know what to write about. Not just now, but it’s been a recurring theme for what must be the past couple of weeks. It might have to do with the stupid schedule I’ve been on. I’ve been going to sleep around five or six every morning and not waking up til like three, or sometimes five at night. It throws off everything I would like to do. It’s seven thirty at night and I’m sitting here in a bathrobe because I didn’t take a shower until five thirty (so you had two hours to put some real clothes on?) I’m a busy man, I had to browse the internet and sit on this wooden chair I brought into my room because I thought it would be more productive if I had an actually seat to sit on rather than my bed, unfortunately that hasn’t been the case. At most my ass just hurts more.

I hate when I think of something that might be a good idea but I don’t act on it immediately and then I forget about it and then I remember it again but I still don’t act on it immediately even though I know last time when I didn’t act on it immediately I forgot it. Just this moment when I wrote about my ass hurting I wondered why I didn’t just put a pillow on the chair, and then I remembered that I was going to do that yesterday but I didn’t and instead of getting the pillow just now I kept writing this. This is certainly a quality to hate about myself. It happens a lot with me and I’m trying to change it, and I’m making progress. The old me would have never even got the pillow and placed it under my ass. But with the new me I can look forward to that pillow under my buttocks in a matter of weeks. I can’t wait.

#51 Happy Birthday To Me (Feb 15) by Bright Eyes

This song is meaningful to me in that its title reminds me of that girl I used to love. I’m not entirely sure why it reminds me of her, but on a completely unrelated topic her birthday happens to be on February 15^th. I had been listening to this song for about a year before I realized the commonality. What’s weirder is that certain lines of the song like, “I’m sorry for the phone call and needing you,” had made me think of her before the titled had forever entrenched my mind with memories of her every time I hear the song.

Originally this post was going to be all about her, and the crazy things I had planned on doing for her birthday, which I never got to do because every time her birthday came around we were always in a not entirely talking to each other mode, but I’m desperately trying to not make her such a big part of my life, which so far I’ve desperately failed at doing, which is no fault of her (there should be a ‘which’ count going).

At one point I was going to write her a message on Facebook, which (4) has become our only form of communication, or rather my way of talking to her no longer expecting her to respond, explaining to her that I’m sorry for everything I did and harboring the grudges I’ve continued to harbor for so long, and then I was going to stop writing about her and making the dumb jokes I do about what happened between us, which (5) aren’t entirely jokes, which (6) I’m sure you and her – if she ever read any of this – are fully aware weren’t entirely jokes concerning the way I felt and feel about the situation.

Riki Lindhome, my current "celebrity" crush. And it's a big one because it's based mostly on personality.

I’ve toggled back and forth many times between writing her that note and then forever not writing about her, but I can’t do the latter ever I think. It’s just a part of me. Maybe one day I can get rid of all the grudges I have. In fact I’m pretty sure if I were to be with another girl I love I could throw all that behind me. I could stop blaming myself for ruining my chances with who I once considered to be the finest female specimen to ever walk this planet, Riki Lindhome excluded.

Akin to that thought, I was listening to the Adam Carolla show today and this girl was on (Donna Antebi) and they were talking about men who cheat and I was thinking about how I really don’t think I could be one of those guys. Of course I’m young and with age and spite I’m sure I’ll change, hopefully not. But it’s not really a principal thing for me. I don’t not want to cheat because it’s bad and it will hurt the person who I assumedly love or at least loved – although that certainly helps me not want to cheat even more – but when I’m with a girl I really don’t think about being with other girls and wishing I could have a night with Scarlett Johansson or whatever starlet’s hot at the moment, granted I’ve never really “been” with a girl. I’m sure I’d be taking the quickest lay I could find out of the house with all the constant nagging and talk of Oprah the wife is doing, right fellas? I’m kidding.

When I was in at my emotional fullest with that girl I loved and fully expected us to one day get married I didn’t think about all the girls I wouldn’t get to sleep with even though I was so very young and had never had sex. I prepared to go through this life having only slept with one girl. Unfortunately now I’m starting to worry if I’ll even get to the one. It’s not that I don’t want to be one of those guys who tells all his buddies about all the notches on his bedpost and crazy sexual stories he has. It’s that I’m not one of those guys. Conversely I wouldn’t even take pride in the fact that I was loyal and only with one girl. I don’t care about that. I just have this chip in my brain that makes me want to find the one girl I can love most and then spend my entire life creating beautiful memories with her – I’m pretty sure the chip in my brain was just a metaphor, but also the chip is designed to make me think that. It sucks in a lot of ways because I am very afraid of getting in a relationship with a person and then having it end. I’m not a ‘plenty of other fish in the sea’ type person. I’m a ‘leave me alone for a week on the floor with a bottle of Jager and Bright Eyes playing’ kind of guy, which (7) brings me back to the song.

I was going to talk about Valentine’s Day but I guess I had other things going through my mind. I do want to make mention that one thing I like about it is it’s a third day of the year (with Christmas and Birthdays) where all those douche bag boyfriends have to at least attempt to do something to make their girlfriend happy. I would much prefer if those douche bags would do things like that on regular occasions, but of course then they’d lose their oh-so-important douche bag status. Or even better, perhaps those girls could dump their douche bag boyfriends and realize they can do so much better. There are few things in this world more sad than when a sweet girl is with an asshole guy. I’ve seen it a lot and the joke reason behind it is he’s got a huge cock, and the not so funny reason behind it is daddy issues.

Lastly, I forgot to mention a couple paragraphs up, but when I like a girl, like really like a girl and it’s pretty obvious that she likes me back, my masturbation numbers go way down. I’ll go whole weeks without jerking off, which (8) is the equivalent of Charlie Sheen going two weeks without coke and a hooker (cheap joke). There are two reasonings behind this. One is that I use masturbation as a distraction from stress and depression. But when I’m in like with a girl I’m happy so there’s not much need for it. And two, and this is more along the lines of what I was saying about myself earlier, when I really like a girl other girls just don’t seem so appealing anymore, even sexually. Although semi-recently things have gotten complicated with me liking multiple girls and not knowing which (9) one I really like best. And it sucks even worse because it’s still hard to think about being with any of them because I of course still love that girl I used to love.

Not Review: The King Of Kong, A Fistful Of Quarters (Netflicks it)

If you go into this movie expecting a straight documentary about video games I would say you’ll be disappointed except for the fact that the greatness of the movie will shroud and destroy the disappointment before you ever notice it was there.

I was expecting a video game documentary, and I wasn’t looking forward to it all that much. I’m not a huge video game geek – not using geek in a defamatory way. I used to play a lot more video games when I was younger. I used to fake being sick so I could stay home playing Perfect Dark, or the Final Fantasy games, or The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time – personal fave –  or many other games, all of which rotted away anything I ever knew about Christopher Columbus and how he floated around the deep blue sea in 1843. But as I grew older and became aware that videos weren’t helping, and in fact were hurting, my chances of getting laid I decided to stop playing them, unless with friends – the true reasons were I wanted to write more, which had been a passion of mine for a while but after high school I really started to love, but I didn’t get much writing done when I was playing Madden 12 hours a day.

I only watched this movie because Chris and Chris (Hardwick and my friend Gonzales) said it was good, and I figured it would be light hearted and something I could have on while also focusing on other things. You know, I could fold some clothes, tidy up the room, watch Parks and Recreations, or nap and I could look over at the screen and be like, ‘whoa, that nerd just pwned that other nerd.’ (pwn is apparently humiliating your opponent). But napping would not be acceptable, for as with any good movie my attention was pulled in.

I can’t write about the movie. I tried and I just can’t. I’ve deleted a lot of description and a whole lot of bad jokes. All I can say is that it’s an emotional movie. It’s a good verses evil movie. It’s a movie that if at the end all you think is ‘why do these losers care so much about video games’ then you missed the point (Ann Hornaday).

I’m such a hypocrite in that I’m the first to tell someone that they shouldn’t care what someone else thought about a movie or TV show or book or whatever and that they shouldn’t argue with them if the person didn’t love it like they did, yet that’s all I ever do. After watching or reading things I like to go online and read what other people thought about them, and the only plausible reasoning I can imagine I do this for is because I like to get upset, and even though I can’t argue with them – I mean I could but I’m really not a fan of leaving comments on people’s blogs if I disagree with them strongly – I compose arguments in my head for all the reasons they’re wrong, and most likely mentally challenged, and no one will ever hear these arguments but me.

As I was thinking about this I wondered why I don’t turn those arguments into blogs, and I think the main reason is because my arguments are mostly ‘you’re stupid’ and ‘go suck a cow’s utter,’ so they’re not entirely constructed well. But also I generally come around to my idea that people shouldn’t care what other people say about the things they love. Frankly if someone doesn’t love Newsradio there’s no use arguing with them because they’re just a big doodie head. But also I realize people see things differently, and just because someone says they don’t like someone I do it doesn’t invalidate the goodness I found in it. Where on the contrary if I don’t like something someone else does I will use my words to methodically invalidate every ounce of goodness that person once found in it. I kid of course. I hate many things in this world, but I don’t find too much joy in breaking down all the reasons those things suck. I guess I do, but at the same time I realize some people do find joy in them, and what right do I have to tell them the thing they like sucks? If the thing is harmful to them then I suppose I have some ground to stand on, but most of the time the thing isn’t harmful.

I didn't know Colin Farrell was sober for six months.

It’s become commonplace to make fun of Justin Bieber and Justin Bieber fans. I once did a podcast with my aforementioned friend Chris where we talked about Justin Bieber and it was basically us making fun of him, albeit if I say so in a more clever way than many others, but it’s not something I’m proud of. He’s a kid for God’s sake. If you gave me a microphone at sixteen I can guarantee you I would make horrible music. We don’t have to rip him apart just because millions of people love him. And look at the people who do love him, they’re teenage girls. Think back at all the bad decisions you made when you were a teenage girl. And if you’re a male then imagine for a second you’re a teenage girl and think about all the bad choices you’d make. Hey, no jerking off! The point is that Justin Bieber may make bad music but that’s no reason that we have to constantly attack him as a person, especially when if he is bad as soon as he gets older and his fans get older he won’t stick around anymore unless he has talent. Look at ‘N Sync, they were huge when I was younger, but now one’s selling real estate, one’s gay, two are dead and Justin Timberlake’s the only one who continued to have success in the industry, despite the fact that I’m sure many people made fun of ‘N Sync – two aren’t really dead and I have no idea if one’s selling real estate.

I never recall what my overall theme is. I guess what frustrates me is reading reviews that just bash something and don’t even take into account the people that would like the product they’re reviewing. I hate horror movies, almost all of them, but I realize there’s a lot of people out there who enjoy horror movies, so if I watched a horror movie I wouldn’t call it horrible just because I hate horror movies, I’d just say that I didn’t like it, and that anyone who did like it obviously abused cats as a child. Kidding.

So I’m just saying…what the hell am I saying? I think I slowly deviated from what I wanted to talk about. The points are that we shouldn’t care what other people think about the things we love or hate, and at the same time we shouldn’t go out of our way to blatantly spew hate on something just because we didn’t like it.

Anyway I strongly recommend that you see The King of Kong, especially if you hate video games, because then I think you’ll be especially surprised at how much you enjoyed the movie.