The Blogging Affairs Desk

When It’s Good, It’s Good, When It’s BAD, It’s Better…

Ang’s Failed Revenge-Revenge

Karma:  It’s a bitch.

August 9, 2009 Posted by | Blogging Couple, People I Love, The Great Indoors, Too Much Time | , , | 1 Comment

Ever Wanted To Know What Goes On Inside My Head?

This is exactly what goes on inside my head every time I look in the mirror naked.

July 26, 2009 Posted by | Living in an Insane Asylum, Shameless Self Promotion, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Cup Best Served Cold

I finally get my revenge.

July 22, 2009 Posted by | Blogging Couple, People I Love, The Great Indoors | , , , | 2 Comments

Video: Ang + Cup of Cold Water + James + Hot Shower = ….?

Last week sometime, Ang decided to toss a cup of cold water on me while I took a hot shower.  The following video clip is an audio track she recorded with her phone.  We couldn’t get the actual audio from her phone to the computer, so this was the next best thing.

Enjoy my misery.

May 28, 2009 Posted by | Blogging Couple, People I Love, Shameless Self Promotion | , , | 3 Comments

In His Prime

An oldie but a goodie, I bring you back to 1982, when Michael Jackson literally was the King of Pop.  ….Sigh, if only he had cut this album (or maybe Bad too) and died in a fiery plane crash along with Lionel Richie, which would have cemented their fates as Pop Music Gods…

Anyway, here’s “Thriller”, directed by John Landis and featuring a voice over by the late Vincent Price.  Epic video, especially by today’s standards.  Enjoy.

May 22, 2009 Posted by | Gay Shit I Know Too Much About, People I Love, The Great Indoors, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , , | 1 Comment

For The Fanboys…

Ang sent me this last night saying in the email “thought of you.”  I watched it this morning, and could clearly see why she got that impression.

If you’ve ever felt like you were ment for more, this one’s for you.  (Don’t mind the subtitles)

I’m just saying…

March 27, 2009 Posted by | People I Love, Too Much Time, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , | Leave a comment

Burger King Helps You Cut The Fat!

Feeling a little heavy after the holidays?  Believe it or not, but Burger King can help you.

If you’re like me, you keep about a bazillion tabs open on your browser so you can flip from one page to another; NYT, HuffPost, NPR, Craigslist, etc.  And if you’re even more like me, one or more of these tabs will be dedicated to your Facebook/myspace page, so for whatever reason someone can contact you or you can quick post a photo or article or something that you found interesting.

And if you’re EVEN MORE like me, you have a conversation with your wife that bleeds over from Gchat to Facebook chat, even though the two of you are sitting RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER on the couch.

But back to what I was saying, if you’re feeling a little fat in the Facebook, maybe eating a whopper will help you lose some unwanted friendship weight.

That’s Burger King’s genius marketing strategy at least.  According to the NYT article for the price of ten of your Facebook friends, you can get a free Angry Whopper (whatever the fuck that is) from Burger King.  All you have to do is download their Facebook App, purge the ten hanger ons (yeah, I used ‘purge’ and ‘Burger King’ in the same thought) and you get a coupon in the snail mail for this free new Whopper.

And honestly, what better way to both get a delicious bit of fast food (and as I write this, I can hear the whip crack of my Diet-Gestapo wife) AND shed a few pounds of dead friend weight.  Let’s face it, if you have a public profile on any Social Networking Site you’ve probably gained a certain percentage of people whom you don’t know, nor care about.  These might be a spouse’s friend, or a friend of a co-worker you met one night at a bar when everyone went out, that decided to ‘friend’ you, or maybe some random guy from high school that you were really never friends with ten years ago when you still saw them in person from time to time.  I honestly can’t wait to get home, upload this app, and start dictating who stays and who ends up on the Whopper Chopping Block.

Old ex-girlfriends that for some reason still exist on my friends’ list, gone.  Awkward co-workers, gone.  Inherited friends from my wife, you’re toast!  Now where’s my free Whopper?!

This is all an advertisement for Burger King, I’m not stupid.  It’s basically one big commercial, which lends itself to becoming smaller advertisements in media, such as this blog post, or the article I referenced earlier.  But the argument this creates is good v. bad advertising; good being what can keep your entertained attention through the length of the ad, versus bad, which is just about any (I was going to put ‘obnoxious’ here, but I realized there’s no such thing as a subtle ad for a used car dealership) car dealership ad you’re forced to listen to on the car radio while waiting at a red light, inexplicably clutching your gun.

Burger King is killing in the ad wars between it’s main competitors McDonalds and Wendys with it’s absurdist (good ad) commercials.  Where Mickey Ds strives for some sort of Urban Outreach (have you noticed how the majority of their ads in the last year seem black-centric?) and Wendy’s shoots for something akin to “wholesome goodness” through their ingredients, its The King who’s thinking outside the proverbial fry box.

Granted, it’s all about what ad agency one company hires over another, but the decision to hire one particular agency stems from the leadership of that company.  It’s all about the message the captain wants to convey to the rest of the crew, if you will.  For every McDonald’s ad I see, I feel I’m not being spoken to; I feel like I’m not being targeted in their demographic.  For Wendy’s it’s a preachy “oh we use all natural ingredients in our products,” blah blah blah.  Listen you red-headed bitch, I want fast food, not an all organic colonic, and while your food is incredibly delicious, why do I have a feeling that if we saw the rest of your body from around that little circle you stick your head out of, we’d find you with dirty bare feet?

Burger King’s ad strategy doesn’t necessarily make me want to run out and buy their product, but it does entertain, which in the long run put their message into my brain longer with a higher resolution.  That creepy sneaking king with his gilded plate of fast food goodness randomly popping up from behind a couch, to me, is pretty funny.  Watching back country Eastern Europeans and Burmese mow down on Big Macs and Whoppers, only to choose the Whopper in a somewhat “blind taste test” is interesting, and now being “allowed” to “kill off” so-called friends from my SNS page of choice boarders on gleeful sinning (choosing food over friends I’m sure will piss God off to some capacity) and surpasses my expectations for outstanding advertisements.

Literally, BK has created the first truly interactive advertisement.

With this though, there are bound to be some morale entanglements that are sure to arise.  The app let’s these people whom you cut know they’ve been cut tersely, by saying they’re not carrying their all-beef patty weight anymore, and that I’ve cashed them in for burger bounty, but honestly, I wasn’t communicating with them all that much anyway.  And there are probably two or three people on my friends’ list that have yet to put up a picture of themselves, let alone any substantial information.  So for those sorry sacks, I feel nothing but my hunger pains subsiding.

And the others, who might squawk that I cut them loose out of gluttonous rapture, well, I’m sure they’ll get over it, and I’m certain that once word of this spreads (according to the article, over 75K people have been cut so far for a burger, and rising) I wouldn’t be surprised if I wind up on a few people’s chopping blocks myself.  It’s the circle of life, Simba.

And seriously, if someone starts a … beef… over being cut from my Facebook friends’ list, they need to get out more.

I’m just sayin….

UPDATE! — As of 1400, EST, 1/12/08, I accomplished the “Whopper Sacrifice.”  My only qualm with the whole thing is that I still have way more people I’m willing to sacrifice.  Any way I can get more free shit for bumping off buddies?

January 12, 2009 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Gay Shit I Know Too Much About, Too Much Time, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , | 3 Comments

Unmailed Letters: New Years Edition

It was once said that the most therapuetic thing you can do is write some letters and not mail them out.  So here now, is the latest installment of these unmailed letters:

To:  The Neighbors Downstairs.

Dear screaming minorities,

Hi, Jim and Ang here, the young couple who lives up above you, and is often subject to your yelling-at-all-hours domestic fights.  I normally wouldn’t be writing to you because we’ve been putting up with whatever the hell is going on down there, whether someone one a contest of fabulous prizes or has set something on fire,  for the last few months.  It’s normal, we understand that we live in a somewhat low-rent setting, so we can expect there to be people with screaming children and squabbling amongst adults.  But when you have the balls to slap whatever pet you own against your roof, our floor, because you think we’re being too loud on our wedding day, at our reception party, you cross the line.

Maybe you don’t understand:  We hear ever fucking argument you people have down there, from the seething between the teeth confrontations of adultery to the mixed language shouting matches that we think sometimes you guys have just to see who’s louder.  We put up with it even though the manager’s office is a short phone call away and our phones are on the bedside table.  We could call the cops or immigration on you, but we don’t, because we know how it can be some times.

So fuck you.  It was our wedding day, we had a few people over, people were drinking, etc.  Most of our guests had left before 2100, and you knock on our floor?  I don’t care how young all ten of your kids are, fuck that.  Next time you guys get loud, I’m going to flood your apartment with fear toxin and march around the place with a rifle and a gas mask.

Sincerely,

J and A.

To:  The Guy at Sbarros Pizza

Dear Loser,

I know you’re getting paid probably 8 dollars an hour, and your sad little tip… paper plate by the napkins tugged a heart string inside of me, sure, but dude, seriously, do your fucking job like a human being with some goddamn common sense.

I won’t mention that two slices of pizza and a medium Coke cost us over ten dollars today.  I won’t mention that you failed to even remotely heat the pizza.  But I will mention that you filled the fucking cup completely with ice followed by two little half-assed squirts of soda and charged us a buck-eighty for it.

Is that part of the Sbarro Pizza training procedure?  I know soda is an incredible mark up for any fast food chain.  It costs you pennies per cup of soda, which you turn around and charge 100+% on to the consumer.  I understand that’s how your company generates it’s overhead and production costs, but it’s insulting to stand there, watch your immigrant ass stuff as much ice cubes (that really, cost nothing) into a paper cup as possible knowing that I’m going to be paying out the ass for it.

So we sat down, a few feet away, knowing already before we really got into the pizza that it was going to be a sub par experience: two bites in and we both shared the same disappointed look.  Ugh, what an asshole, we both said to each other.  This isn’t even WARM pizza.

So thanks for taking our money and giving us nothing in return but terrible tasting pizza and two sips of soda.  As my wife eloquently put it:  “There’s ten dollars I won’t be getting back any time soon…”

Sincerely,

The Young Couple (waiting for your chubby ass in the parking lot with lead pipes and switch blades).

To:  The Junkie Who Robbed The Hut Today

Dear Crackhead,

I’m not gonna empathize with you one bit.  You want to frighten my employees by demanding money out of the drawer, scaring the piss out of little 20-something girls so you can get your Holiday Spirit on?  I wish it had been me working today when you tried that shit because I would’ve made you take your last breath out of a hole in your neck you son of a bitch.  I would’ve rammed so many pairs of high end fashion sunglasses up your ass you would’ve been tasting Prada plastic til 2011, you caustic sore on the arm pit of society.

I dare you to try that shit with me, and you know what, I’ll even give you MY KNIFE so you’ll at least have a half a chance lasting more than twenty seconds with me, bitch.

I’ll wear you out like a pair of black Chucks.  So help me god.

Sincerely,

Your New Nightmare.

To:  Kathy Griffin

Dear Ms. Griffen,

You’re our new hero.

Sincerely,

A and J.

January 1, 2009 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Gay Shit I Know Too Much About, Living in an Insane Asylum, Out and About, People I Hate, Why Am I Watching This? | , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Boondocks Xmas

After you trim some of the fat from that video, digest the part about where Xmas really comes from.

Also, due to work scheduling, I won’t be around til next week.  You know how the holidays are.

I’m just sayin…

December 21, 2008 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Not Enough Time, Why Am I Watching This?, World Wide Events | , , , | 1 Comment

Maybe Dickens Was On To Something…

A lot of people post articles that bitch about the holidays, and honestly, this one’s no different.

I think the most aggravating aspect for me is that I’m FORCED to buy shit for people I don’t like, and this comes in the form of the two jobs I have.

I’ve already written about the whole yankee swap thing, and now at my other job I have to buy a gift for someone because I’m their “secret santa.”  Fuck that.  This goes to prove that the holidays are completely commercialized when I have to go into my pocket, waste my time and money on something for someone whom I wouldn’t piss and spit on if they were on fire.  Some shapeless, thoughtless gift that I either A) am re-gifting, or B) didn’t even put an iota of thought into, just randomly grabbed it off of a shelf at some box store, haphazardly gift wrapped, and then left it some place for that person to find.

There’s been actual times that I was equally surprised/embarrassed as the recipient opened the gift, because I completely blacked out when I picked out whatever to get them.

“Oh shit, I did get you slippers…”

I don’t mind getting things for my parents, in-laws, The Lady, her sister, or my friends.  That’s all fine and well.  But when someone twists my arm and says I HAVE to get something because I’m automatically lumped into a fucking yankee swap or a secret santa, that’s bullshit.  That’s greed in its highest, ugliest manifestation.

I like to consider myself a decent Catholic so I stopped putting the ‘Christ” in “Xmas” unless it refers to “Jesus Christ this traffic!” because the idea behind Christ has become so bastardized from the actual celebration of Xmas that it’s now a complete abomination towards what Christianity supposedly stands for.  When Jesus was born, which was actually in the spring or late summer -I can’t remember, but according to that whole legend, a couple of guys on camelback showed up and gave him some gifts.  It would make more sense if this is how we derived our practice of gift giving on birthdays, oppose to Xmas.  But because of this, we’re all now forced to nearly kill each other (or actually kill each other if you happen to shop in NY State Wal Marts of Toys “R” Us’s) every year in some sort of frenzied spending orgy between the days right after Thanksgiving til right up to Xmas Eve.

And don’t get me started on the whole “After Xmas Sales” which is insulting because stores that were selling their shit for exuberant amount of dollars are now trying to sell us the same shit at dramatically reduced prices, making it seem that all our silly and ridiculous rampaging through malls looking for a deal on a goddamn GPS or fuzzy boots was pointless.

Ugh.

So for my ‘real job’ I went and got two lbs of Dunkin Donuts Coffee and a ceramic mug to put it in.  It came out to just below the twenty dollar cap that “everyone” agreed on.

Apparently I missed that meeting.  Had I been there, I would’ve strongly advocated that there be no cap limit and watch these animals eat each other alive, trying to out do each other with expensive and pricier gifts, all to see who’s got the biggest balls and/or wallet.

And the “twenty dollar cap” idea is pretty much bullshit; ask anyone, and likely the “cap limit” is more like a “minimum” in disguise, because no one wants to get fucked over when they dropped 20 bucks on something nice and wind up getting Air Supply’s Greatest Hits from the gas station down the street.

For my other job, which instituted the “secret santa” thing, I drafted my boss, who will receive a re-gifted scarf that originally I got for another co-worker at my real job, but who got fired just before the holidays, so she won’t be needing it now.

Or maybe she will need it.  It’s cold outside.

***

I won’t waste your time giving you examples of how Xmas is completely commercialized based on television commercials alone, but the recent Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum tv ads make me want to rape myself with a broken glass bottle.

In these ads, a “Captain Morgan’s Xmas Miracle” occurs at a party.  Examples include:  a man in a festive sweater can’t seem to locate the Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum until another party goer moves out of the shot.  Another involves a man who drops an ice cube and has it replaced by another party goer unbeknownst to him.  I could go on, but I’m giving that broken glass bottle over there a hard look now.

These are not “Xmas Miracles.”  A True Xmas Miracle probably involves someone being able to walk again, or a homeless family that lost everything in a house fire being able to stay with relatives through the holiday season.  To consider finding misplaced booze at a party a ‘miracle’ is a sign of alcoholism.  Have all our standards dropped so low?

Don’t get confused, I’m not against having a good time; drink all the delicious Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum this holiday season as you like.  Hell, pour me a tall glass too, hold the Diet Coke.  I’m just against using Xmas as an excuse to push your shit in my face and forcing me to buy it.

***

I do a lot of my shopping online, because a few years ago I got into a very heated argument with an older man over a parking space at the local mall.  As I had circled the parking lot for twenty minutes I finally found some sap pulling out of his space, so I did what any rational person would do, and give them room to pull out while using my blinker to signal that I was taking over his spot, even if it was roughly ¾ of a mile away from the Sears.

As this guy is pulling out, I observe a truck slowly turning into this aisle of parking spaces, all the way down at the opposite side.  I don’t pay him much heed because I figure by the time this guy pulls out of his spot, I’ll be mostly wedged into it with my little truck and this other guy’s shit out of luck.

Granted, some of this is my fault:  That particular year I had waited til just about two days before Xmas to do my shopping.  My mentality at the time was that I’d rush in, knock everything out in one swoop, and be home in time to watch the Pats play at four.

So I see that far away truck is picking up speed, and to my horror this asshole backing out is taking his sweet time:  checking his mirrors, breaking every 6 inches, etc.  Before I know it, the rogue truck has gotten within stealing distance of my spot.  And the guy’s pulling out in a way that left me some what blocked.

Even though I had been sitting there with my blinker on for the better part of two or three minutes (after following the guy up through the rows of cars til he lead me to his vehicle and spot) this asshole in his truck swooped in and threw his front end into the space.

Now, I’m all for competition and survival of the fittest, and when it comes right down to it, I’m the biggest opportunist there is, but there’s just something so wrong with someone stealing your parking space right from under you.  Especially at Xmas time.

So I did what any calm, rational person would do, and put my truck into park, got out and confronted the man.

At first he ignored me and started walking towards the mall entrance, as if there was some one else being followed and shouted at besides He Who Stole A Parking Spot.  I could see his head somewhat dipping down into the collar of his parka so I knew he heard me.

“Hey, hey, asshole!”  I called after him.  He stops suddenly and turns around.  He’s roughly my dad’s age at the time, and when he actually stopped I hesitated because I didn’t expect him to turn around.

“What’s your problem!”  He yells at me from two or so spots away.

“That was my spot you stole!”

“Stole?  I didn’t see you there,”

“Liar!”  And I pounced on him and beat his face in with a chunk of asphalt.

…Or wish I had.  What had really happened was we exchanged pleasantries with each other for a few minutes and once or twice I thought I actually was going to knock his block off, but didn’t.

God, even reliving that whole experience has gotten my neck muscles all tight, ugh.

***

On the subject of stores, I understand you retailers want to be in the most festive of moods, and want your shoppers to think you’re not some atheist heathens who celebrate a pagan wood nymph with naked forest dancing and howling at the moon.  So you pump in varied Xmas carols to blast the aisles of your fucking CVS or Best Buy or whatever so your shoppers are hypnotized into thinking they NEED to buy your holiday themed shit that two days after New Years will be cast aside in a closet somewhere.  You even go so far as to get “hip” European DJ remixes of classics like Rudolph The Ecstasy Snorting Reindeer, or Frosty the Blow Man.  But seriously, if you spend more than an hour shopping in a store, these songs tend to tear apart your mental stability.  And this goes on from Black Friday up through New Years Day.

Soon you’re a babbling incoherent immigrant.  And no one wants that.

I work in retail.  We’re somewhat “encouraged” to play the techno-y Xmas cds found in our storage closet.

Fuck that.  The other night, because I was working til after 11pm, I first started my “All Neil Diamond” mix, because people were still coming into the store and it was against my best interests to repulse them with real gangsta shit.  Then when it got a little later, I switched up to Gnarls Barkley, which was still somewhat safe for parents.  By the end of the night I had switched over to the new Guns n’ Roses “Chinese Democracy” which one shopper commented on:

“This is the first store I’ve gone into all day today that wasn’t playing Xmas music over its speakers,” she said with a mild tone of relief in her voice.

Seriously, the Xmas music has to go, and it’s not only stores at the mall, but on radio stations too.  While flipping through local radio stations, every once in a while an old Xmas standard comes on and I immediately want to throw the wheel of my truck over and crash myself head on into a tree at high speeds.  And just because you play some “rocked up” version of an “old classic” carol or a “funny” parody is no excuse.  They’re all equally grating.

I wish I could sit here and write to you that I’ve taken this list of crimes and decided to do something about it.  Outright cancel Xmas, take the money I was going to spend on gifts and either donate it to a local charity, or just save it for my ever growing stack of bills.  I wish I could tell you that I convinced Ang that on Xmas morning we go down to the local homeless shelter and volunteer for a few hours, to help us reconnect to the fact that despite being under a mountain of stupid debt, we still have a lot of nice things, and most importantly we have each other, all in the face of those who literally have NOTHING.

But I can’t, because simply that’s not going to happen.  I’m not a saint, I’m not one of those people who get off on volunteering, and if I outright decided to cancel Xmas, I’d feel like an asshole in two parts because inevitably people would still go out and get me something on Xmas, and when I have nothing to give them, causing everyone, including myself, to consider me an asshole.

So it’s a trap, it’s a big fucking mess of a trap, these holidays.  Remember back to those old Road Runner cartoons where Wiley Coyote would set up a trap and there was a big “X” underneath it?

That same “X” now proceeds Mas.

I’m just sayin…

December 19, 2008 Posted by | Corporate America Hates You, Living in an Insane Asylum, People I Hate, World Wide Events | , , , , , , , | 1 Comment