I tweet stuff. Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes it’s dumb. Sometimes it’s just all around bad. Nobodies perfect. But one consistent thing I have to deal with, because of these tweets, is people reacting to them funny. I know how people love to pretend to be offended by jokes made by strangers, so this is my way of explaining myself. In reality, nothing I tweet should ever be taken that seriously. Even if it is harsh (which, admittedly, I’ve toned down on cause, well, dipshits on the internet can’t handle it) it’s never as bad as it seems. So this is my outlet to clear the air.
Truth be told, this should be called “explaining my tweets”. In reality, I’m not really defending as much as i am giving background and going into more detail. But, alas, I’ve already called it what it is and I’m 5 volumes deep so I just gotta roll with it.
So, with all due respect to Anthony Jesilnik, allow me to “defend” my tweets…
Ever have one of those days when the worst song you can fathom is stuck in your head? I have those all the time. So much so that I think I may just like really bad music and not want to admit it to myself. The day I wrote this tweet, it was snowing like a motherfucker outside. Perhaps I felt the best way to combat the depressing weather was to take myself to a warm place. That place? Inside the mind of the aging Beach Boys.
Kokomo is one of those songs that everyone knows, recognizes it to be terrible yet, it continues to live on. It’s also one of those songs I never really put much though into. Why would I? But , if you think about it for just a moment and listen to the words, this innocent song seemingly about a bunch of dudes in their late 40’s wanting to take you on various vacations takes a turn. A turn to a dark place. A place where five over tanned, sweaty middle aged men , wearing hawaiian shirts opened to expose their bellies hanging over their bermuda shorts are on an erotic mission. A place where you have mistaken their generous offering as them simply being kind boys of the beach…but in reality? You’re on an island with a bunch of drunk creeps. Creeps who can’t wait to fill you with Pina colada’s until you’re too drunk to know whose cabana you’re being taken to. It’s got all the making of the worst orgy of all time. The whole thing is what I’d imagine going to one of those “Hedonism” trips. In fact, I’d be willing to bet Kokomo gets plenty of run in all Hedonism related events.
Thing is, I only got this vibe from this song cause they insist on harmonizing. Five voices as one. The whole thing is revolting to even imagine unfolding. It just goes to show you, sometimes a vacation isn’t worth the trip…
Twitter can often be a house of mirrors. What you see is rarely what you get. I mean, let’s be honest, the internet ,in general, is like that. We’ve all encountered people from the internet who are the cream of the crop online , in terms of wit and creativity. Sadly, when you meet in person, they’re on some Marty Mcfly shit. With twitter, this kind of thing is magnified cause people are able to be whatever they project. For men, it’s often that we are witty, successful or have big dicks. For women, it’s often being witty, successful or being one of the three professions mentioned in the above tweet. I can’t even count the amount of profile headers I’ve read where people list their profession as literally “Model/singer/actress”. Keep in mind, these are girls who are , at best, waitresses who have been in a student film or two or , at worst, call girls who aren’t tone deaf. It’s kinda like that thing when people put multiple locations in their description to create an illusion of being worldly. Oh, you’re located in NYC, Tokyo and Paris? Of course you are. Even though, in reality, you visited Tokyo once for two weeks and you’re only saying that cause you’re dad is half japanese. But I digress…
The “Model/singer/actress” thing is so crazy cause it’s actually arbitrary. Those three things just sound so good on paper, if you’re a moron. Just cause you’re “capable” of doing something doesn’t mean it’s your career. I’m able to eat very fast, I like playing basketball and I’m good at ping pong. You don’t see “Speed eater/NBA player/Olympic Ping Pong champion” in my profile (Though…reading that back, it would kinda be an awesome header). I realize that projecting the best possible you is part of what social networks are about but have a shred of reality about it. If you’ve never been paid for any of these three things, that makes them hobbies and/or aspirations. Definitely nothing you could put on a resume. Also, sending naked pics to the guy you’re fucking does not make you a model.
Women get a lot of shit for their slutty halloween costume choices but no one can be sneakier about things than dudes. Without fail, if you see a guy dressed up as any sort of doctor he’s either
1)a lazy costume buyer who picked that shit up at Ricky’s drug store earlier that day
2)A total scum bag with a game plan.
The thing about halloween is that it gives up a chance to embrace our id. I remember, one year, my costume was “A scum bag”. It was this lazy bullshit
As terrible and thrown together my costume was, I truly got into character. It didn’t hurt that I was kinda drunk but, man, I was a piece of shit. I was like a bad SNL character come to life. My point is that, when you get dressed up, it’s easy to fall into whatever it is you’re looking like. It’s no wonder so many slutty devils get into all sorts of trouble! But those doctors…they got plans for you, girl. For a dude, dressing up like a doctor is like open season on inappropriate touching on ladies. That stethoscope might as well be a license to touch titties.
All that said, you see a dude dressed as a Gynecologist, it’s so over the top that he’s actually kinda funny. I’m not sure how you’d show you’re a gyno (walk around with pap smear tests and stirrups?) but, still, that guy is typically gonna be less of a creep that Dr. Hardon trying to jokingly jam a tongue depressor down your throat. Trust me, he’s definitely taking notes for later and the Doctor Will be in…your mouth.
Anyone with a twitter or facebook feed knows allllll about how seriously some girls take horoscopes. There are girls who update them daily and other just give links when it applies directly to them. Either way, seeing these things is daily reminder that some people really really wanna believe in made up shit if it, in some way, can give them a direction. By most accounts, these are girls who are intelligent, practical and not at all the type to be living in delusion. But, somehow, horoscopes slipped through the cracks of logic for these women. So much so that if you question it, the reaction is rabid. In fact, me just writing the above paragraph will most likely result in actual angry comments from horoscope loving females or quiet disdain from girls I actually know who , without fail, put stock in this kind of nonsense. Well, to both groups, i say sorry…but you also realize how crazy you seem when you believe this shit, right? Just checking.
I’m not a guy who has ever gone out of my way to say mean things to girls faces. I’m actually pretty sensitive to that kind of thing (contrary to how this blog may read). If I called a girl a bitch to her face, she undoubtedly deserved it. But the few times I have done that, the reaction was nothing compared to when I’ve casually rolled my eyes at horoscopes in conversations. Before the anger sets in, they typically try to justify it by telling me my own horoscope or using my astrological sign (I’m a libra, yall!) as a way to deflect that i think it’s all bullshit. Once that is dismissed. Things tend to heat up a little more, to the point where they’re visibly mad and don’t wanna talk about it any more. I’m pretty sure I’ve ruined girls nights over this topic. But you know, what? If they had read their horoscope that day, they maybe would have seen it coming.