It Gets Better for Quarterlifers Too!

April 12, 2011

I’ve been reading the It Gets Better book this week and it really struck a chord with me. If you aren’t familiar with the project, columnist Dan Savage started it after last years rash of publicized gay teen suicides. He wanted a way to reach out to those teenagers who were unable to see what their lives could be after they escaped the bullying and the homophobia of their middle and high schools. It began with him and his boyfriend in America, husband in Canada making a video about how much better their lives had gotten. After only a few hours on YouTube, there were hundreds of other videos from gay and straight people alike letting those kids know that, they may not be able to see it now, but life gets better.

I thought about my Quarterlife Crisis. It was a time where I really couldn’t see that things were going to get better. I was lost and depressed and didn’t see how anyone else could understand what I was going through. It wasn’t until I found a few friends who were in the same situation that we realized that we weren’t alone. The bullying I felt during that time was all internal. I told myself I was worthless, and lazy, and unmotivated. I told myself I was never going to achieve anything and that my life to that point had been a waste.

Meeting the people I have through this website and others like it, I was able to build a support system. I didn’t have people who had gone through it telling me it gets better, but I found people who were able to help me believe that one day it would get better for all of us. And one day, it happened. It wasn’t as though there was some miracle change that made it all better. Making your Quarterlife Crisis go away is a matter of many baby steps.

One of the symptoms of the Crisis is finding out that the path you’ve been on may not be the right one for you. It leads to a feeling of confusion and an inability to move forward. I stayed in that place for two years. I tried a lot of things in those two years to attempt happiness, but it wasn’t until I enrolled in business school that I really started to get better. It wasn’t that I was even particularly interested in business or wanted an MBA, but I wanted to be working on something, anything, that could feel like bettering myself.

It starts with one step: A part time job in a bookstore or a volunteer opportunity on the weekends or joining a choral group on Tuesday nights. It means failing at more and more things until one thing fits what you’re looking for. It takes redefining yourself and realizing that just because this first path didn’t work out doesn’t mean you’re a failure. In fact, it means you may know yourself better than most people out there.

For those in the Quarterlife Crisis, it does get better. But you have to be responsible for making it better. And that isn’t a task that comes easily when you’re gripped with fear. And even when it gets better, there are still hurdles to overcome. Some days I feel that same feeling of dread and failure creeping into the back of my brain. Maybe I’m not doing things the way I should. Maybe I chose the wrong path. Maybe I’ll never amount to anything. But then I do something that reminds me how far I’ve come. I’ll go back to that volunteer opportunity, or read a book on economics, or dig through the recycled craft supplies at Goodwill in order to make art. You have to remember who you are and what makes you so amazing.

I realize that when it feels like everything you do is wrong it’s hard to take the advice to just do something. One of my favorite themes in the It Gets Better book is that it doesn’t actually get better. What happens is you get better. You become better able to handle the bad times, you have greater resources to use during those bad times, and you have the ability to change your life so that those things and people that were making you so miserable no longer have a grip on your life.

It does get better. We all have the ability to make it better. It’s not easy and it’s not pretty, but you’re also not alone. And in the end, not only does it get better, but WE get better.

I miss my Willy

January 17, 2011

…Today I was reflecting on the big bad whole idea of life. And not just
my Quarter Life either.

I do my best pondering while in the shower, so if you need that visual,
consider it a freebee.

Sadly I remember this was a day when a particularly good buddy of mine
made a terrible decision to end his life. Some of the reasons we
understand, others he took with him when he put the 9 mm up to his temple.
Maybe I thought about it because of the Rutgers tragedy…something sparked
it. I had not used a brain cell on the memory and its issues in years.

Good guy. Still miss him.

Yet, as I sent up a little prayer, hoped for the best and was thankful for
his short life and my time in it…I rescued my morning
get-ready-for-the-day-time with the simple question, “What would I tell my
friend, life is like in 2010, what he had missed in the past ten years?”
How would he have grown to adulthood in a Gen X/Y-post-Y2K-post-9-11ish
world?

He was RIP in 2000. It is now closing in on the later part of 2010.

Well, Willy…he liked to be called that. Okay I lie. He hated it. His name
was Benjamin, which came from William, which made itself into Bill, but we
razed his ass so much because we heard his girlfriend call out the “Willy”
nickname during a college dorm room sexcapade where he thought those
university constructed walls would block out noise and give him the
exclusiveness of a sincere romantic getaway on a Student Life issued
standard housing twin mattress.

So Willy…here is what you missed for the Quarter Life. And prepare for
disappointment.

Not much changed and then everything did as well…

Let me summa up for you in a top ten. That will make it easier for both of
us. You and I loved Letterman. Yep, he is still here. But Conan took over
for NBC big chin, then fired him, forced O’Brian into a WTBS show with
Lopez. And Letterman pulled a Clinton and sexed up a bunch of his interns.
Sans cigars.

Plus a sum-up is quicker. You are probably all busy up there in Heaven
where the Cowboys still win Super Bowls, Boy Bands never roamed the earth,
Spears was still hot and underage…etc. And no one ever knew what the fudge
a Harry Potter was except as a stoner weed dude with dreadlocks. “What?
Owe you have been getting some buzz up there in Heaven about Miley?
Well…that might take more time than we have here. Just remember Satan is
not the only evil force in the universe. Pass that along to the Big Guy.”

And yes…I will be using quote marks when I psychic channel Willy. SyFy’s
“Ghost Hunters” taught me how.

10. Some crazy dudes flew some 727 jets into the World Trade Center. The
world, the economy, the fears and phobias of people fell like the
buildings. That is about the biggest thing. Oh and that we got caught in a
land war in Asia. “Ya…ya I know the movie Princess Bride, Soviet invasion
of Afghanistan and Vietnam told us not to do it. But we did. Actually two
wars in Asia…at the same time!”

9. Lady Gaga makes Madonna and Britney Spears look like Romper Room. I
remember your older brother when he had a crush on Debbie Gibson. Oh, she
did a spread for Playboy in 2005.

8. OJ is still out there. Yes, even after another crime spree of breaking
and entering, robbery, attempted kidnapping in Vegas, the juice and his
Heisman are still on the loose. Oh, they also just had to take back a
Heisman from another USC thug for NCAA cheating. Oh, and while on the
subject of sports. Before you tagged out, you were stuck with Mark
McGuire. Yep. His homerun zingers were blown away by Barry Bonds. But both
have admitted to rampant steroid use, so some dude branded Bonds’ Hall of
Fame ball with an asterisk. And Tiger is still a golfing god. I think he
owns Dubai, but he ended up getting 9-ironed by his Swede model wife for
banging something like 101 IHOP waitresses.

7. Cell phones are still the rage, but now we text. Even better. We talk
into our phones, they process the verbiage into text and then send it to
our friends. Not as actual vocal words, but even more text. Its like an
impersonal fax coming over your wireless. “Ya, ya, I totally know. We
tried the whole Marconi, Bell and Star Trek thing to instantly communicate
with everyone at anytime, but it seems we like taking steps backwards.
Pretty soon I think paper cup and string will be back in fashion.”

6. No flying cars. Matter of fact. Toyotas cannot break. I mean like they
cannot come to a stop. Pontiac, Buick, Saab, Saturn, Oldsmobile are gone.
Mercedes still cost out the ass, but they are made here in the US. Detroit
is dead, but do not worry. We have stickers on new cars which tell the
buyer all auto parts were made in Mexico, but the actual Ford Explorer is
assembled in the US. Oh, SUVs and Hummers are the douche bag eco-terror
hag’s greatest evil since Hitler. Buy a Kia…but don’t go for the warranty.
Word to the wise. North Korea has the bomb now. And so does India,
Pakistan and all those little, tiny corrupt former Soviet Republics. Oh,
Iran is 6 months from making a nuke, but we are all crossing our fingers
the UN will save our asses. “Chuckle”

5. Bush Jr. won in 2000. Don’t even ask me how. It would take too
long…Jesus would probably decide on that Second Coming thing, before I
could properly explain it to you. Just remind J-Man to smite everyone in
Florida. Then Mrs. Clinton became Sec of State. Yep…never got rid of those
families. Now…and hold onto your conservative pants. A black dude named
Hussein won the White House. “No shit! The same dude named after Iraq’s
Saddam? Oh…the later. We went to war (see above) with him and noosed him.
Not as messy as what you did, but just as effective.”

“What? Too soon Willy? Seriously, I know you and I are not bigots, but no
one had money on this 2008 election. Yep, he ran against McCain…ya I know
he is still alive, that dude is like 909ish. But our current media Prez
also beat a dude named Huckabee. So some name like Obama is not all that
bad. President Huckabee…yuck, yuck. Bring me my banjo. Something…something
about bird in hand, two in a Bush. No sexual innuendo intended.”

4. Women do not have to get periods. Yep. Some sort of commercial about
O-rings, that you shove somewhere, so somehow you do not have to put up
with that old Mother Nature, Aunt Flow. “Huh? Well, I don’t know Willy. I
suppose that stuff has to go somewhere.” Never mind the eggs. We have ’19
Kids and Counting’ and the ‘Octo Mom!’ television shows. You don’t even
have to have a dude around. You can pick your kids off the internet, get a
turkey baster and wham. You want blue eyes? Sure. You want his father to
be a PhD? Sure. It’s like genetic engineering, and Nazi selective
breeding, but with the condolences of your health plan and the popular
trend to adopt children out of the US. “Oh, Willy…you would be so lost.
Remember the Benetton ads of so long ago? Well, there are so many families
walking around which look like a meeting of the UN.”

3. Reality television. Just before you kicked off. Which was a bummer by
the way. You probably caught the phrase, “Voted off the island.” Well, it
did not stop there. Now we have pretty much a telecast (ummmm…there are no
antennas nowadays. The Federal gov’t, FCC confiscated those bandwidths to
sell off to Verizon, New Jersey shore types, wannabe gigolos and whores
selling themselves off for a celebrity book tour, cooking shows and
Dancing Your Ass Off…) “Huh?…oh. Well it is this show where, well they
actually have lots of programming where they exploit fat people. Nope. No.
Ummm. Trump is still around, but no one cares about good looking people
like Miss USA, not unless you first put out a porn video. Sort of like a
rite of passage. Oh…just remembered. No one has hair anywhere except on
their heads…ANYWHERE!”

2. 3-D. Yep. All this technology and we have NOT gone to Mars, NOT
discovered new life, NOT stopped death, starvation, disease (some new
buggers are actually making a comeback…you want the plague? She is all
the rage in India these days), NOT stopped war, NOT stopped the Golden
Girls from being rebroadcast over and over. Betty White is running for the
US Senate. Ok…the last part was a lie. But she is all powerful
nonetheless. 3-D. The same crap from the 50’s. The same crap we all see
in, everyday, is like the total bomb. Yep, they are even making T.V.s in
3-D. Cannot wait to see the newest court room drama about a young lawyer
trying to just make a damn difference in a cold, indifferent NYC.
“Man…it’s like the gavel and her bosom are coming right of the television!
Look out! Oh that was just the seam from her pants suit. This HD is f’ing
awesome!”’

And the number one thing you did or did not miss from the past ten years…

1. Saturday Night Live still sucks ass. Nope. Never recovered from the
90’s uber wonderful cast. Oh, uber is a word for cool.

So dude. You did not miss much. We are still at war on poverty, hate,
sexism, intolerance, movie sequels, prequels and reboots, hunger, disease,
ignorance, France, war itself, economic exploitive cultures, media over
load, the Draconian Ants of Cegus V…”Oh I did not tell you about the ants?
Yea. Ummm, they like got here right after you left. And ‘frankly I welcome
our new ant overlords,’ As Kent Brockman once said.”

Willy. Wish you were still around. My Quarter Life has had its up and
downs…matter of fact. It has been pretty bitching. But as a decades go?
Meh. Let us all hope time is cyclical and we can hook up again. Let us say
something bad ass like Omaha Beach during Normandy, or the Ice Bowl and I
am QB’ing, or the creek where you and I met up with Tammy and Michelle for
a little midnight swim…or just that I might be able to have you around
through my QL issues and maybe, maybe I could have helped you through
yours. Love you dude!

P.S. I was not kidding about the Miley Cyrus thing…seriously anytime the
angelic multitudes want to get off their collective asses and smite Viacom
the better.

If the man in the red suit is real…?

December 17, 2010

And I am talking about Santa, not Satan. Though I am pretty sure the later hangs around these days. Funny how both names are anagrams of each other. Huh?

Anyways I have a wish list for the former, his reindeer and the elves…oh and the Abominable Snow Monster of the North as well.

Just ten small items I think we could all use in our twenty-somethings. Well most of them…there are some personal items on the list as well.

I wish for…

A pause on all things IPhone, 4G, plasma, 3-D, etc. Just a year to catch up. I am walking out of my quarter life and already feeling like an old man techie wise.

No world peace. Well, maybe like a week or a month, but I am figuring it would be so boring. Think about that…peace means no conflict…then there is no resolution. Peace means no arguing with your partner…then no angry sex make ups. Get my drift?

I am not greedy here. TV commercials can still exist. All I want is a long segment without being hit by the perpetual car insurance cycle. No Progressive’s Flo, no geckos, no more of that Eddie Munster looking dude asking me about Charlie Daniels, etc. Oh, and stop with the Holiday time diamonds and Lexus sales…that is a lot of pressure on dudes to come up with the goods.

For the Ghost of Christmas Past, to turn back time and kill Mark Zuckerberg. So, so much of my later 20’s wasted.

For Ms. Claus to take photos at the mall, so I do not have to sit on a drunk, old man’s lap. Oh, and make her Claus’ grand-daughter…about 23 years old, with a body of 34-24-34. Hey, I said I am almost thirty, but I am not dead.

For no more movies about anyone visiting families and future in-laws for the Holidays. Ergo, Reese Witherspoon and Ben Stiller will be out of a job.

For it to be cool to run around, at my age, with all the wrapping paper cardboard tubes and pretend to be a Jedi or Black Ops first-shooter. Quarter lifers might be experiencing growth in waistlines, birthday candles and credit card debt, but there is no need to out grow being a kid at heart.

For addiction to be eradicated. Anything that interupts living a good Q-Life. And mixing anti-depressants, gin and a penchant for toxic relationships is never a good idea. Just a personal note…

Daniel Tosh of “Tosh.O” to become the next President of the United States of America.

Mac & Cheese to be calorie free! That flying car we were all promised. An Oscar Myer weenie whistle, to have a beer with Homer Simpson or Peter Griffin, John’s Lennon and Wayne back from the dead & last but not least genetically engineer those Woolly Mammoths they find perfectly preserved in the Siberian ice. I wants me a miniature one for my apartment!

That’s it St. Nick…not asking a lot here. And this is no idle threat. If you miss on just one item I am lighting no more Christmas trees…we are going all the way with lighting up Menorahs, Kwanza Kinaras, Chinese lanterns and “Christmas Story” major prize leg lamps!

Happy Holidays Quarter Lifers!

PS – supplemental to number three on the list. Coca-cola commercials with real hungry, pissed off polar bears, on cocaine and set free during a full session of Congress. Also, televised during half-time of the Super Bowl. Now that is entertainment!!!

Quarter Life Baby Ban

December 9, 2010

You hear this? Restaurants, fancy resorts, cruise ships, airlines and bars
are joining the movement to ban crying, out of control kids from their
establishments. And sans their inattentive parents!

Go ahead, hit the article web search, it is every where www-wise. Latest
airline survey had over 60% of passengers in favor of a kid ONLY section
on flights. Last week some seaside bar in NC banned the Ritalin soaked
kids and their X-Y-¼ Life Gen birthers from the premises. Okay there might
have been some MTV reality show, “Teen Mom” types and an occasional cougar
who finally got the husband with the cash for in-vitro. But you parents
know who you are.

Among the many great moments of Homer Simpson’s wisdom, there was a
particular timely line dealing with parenting and the rest of us without
babinos.

Upon hearing he was going to get his taxes raised for school improvements,
“What the hell? We would never had these damn kids if we knew we’d have to
pay for them!”

Is it the newest wave of discrimination? Where is the ACLU when you need
them? Are we all just intolerant of misbehaved kids? Do we just like quiet
dinners with a date?

Do we not love our neighbors…and their kids? Do we have to tune them out
over the rest of the TGIF crowd or in a panic cry out, “Ummm…Mam, Sir…is
that your kid hanging off the balcony?

Or is this your wee one who I just found fishing his Pokeman cards out of
the men’s room toilet? Or is this your Burberry $1,300 stroller parked in
the emergency exit?

Now there are a few Quarter Lifers out there who have done the baby making
thing. Most have tried the first portion of the process, but hopefully
with proper protective forethought, monthly timing for strict Catholics
(right) and a little luck after being lucky, there were not any 40-week
gestation mistakes.

And I know the beauty of childbirth and rearing a kid can be awesome. I
was a kid…and I am SURE I was an absolute joy, 24-7 for my parentals. From
diaper crap to my adult crud they are still the loving, kind, awesome baby
boomers I hope to make proud.

I also saw that National Geographic special on human birth, and I had no
idea the color green was involved. Purple, red, white, even yellow…but are
there green things in the human female body?

Back on track. Baby Banning. There is a societal trend to not put up with
those who are our future. ‘Til we at least make some of our own. Not too
much to ask that just because you had sex, got knocked up, the Nuva-ring
did not exactly live up to its promises or your carefully laid out plans
of the brownstone home, $80K job out of college, marriage, color match
décor between crib & nursery, and the Juno husband did not read the BOOK;
life plans put you in the grocery aisle with one of those Hummer shopping
carts…I, moi QL suddenly have to put up with it?

Should I be more tolerant of kids and the difficult job of parenting?

Should I go along with this trend to make the world safe for adults as
well as brats?

Should I make another me?

Today I am going to “secretly” post my reasons for neither making a kid or
even putting up with other breeders. It’s a secret cuz me no want da
fiancé to get wind I might be making my way to vasectomy town. Maybe I
will have a change of heart in a few days and post up a few reasons to
procreate. For now…here is why baby banning for this ¼ lifer is the way to
go.

I am under 30 and not want to die early…Your kid just sneezed swine flu
H12-J11H9 all over my steak?

If it is lost? I have to worry? I hear you can get big time cash for these
things. $50k for a good white baby and I hear Angola on a weird reverse of
marketing is offering to buy back Brad-Gelina style kids. Jobs are hard to
find in the QL, got to get cash where ya can. What you thinking blogging
is going to put my Rhodes Scholar through school?

Not every kid will have Will Smith privileges? I got ID4 and MIB. Will
you, and your kid are already getting old. Fresh you ain’t and I do not
want to subject my kid to another round of Jazzy Jeff.

Every other day should I freak about , there is some sort of magenta, pink
alert on the highway sign for some missing twerp? He/she snuck out for a
7-11 slurpee run, Nycol at Walgreens or your weird shut-in neighbor with a
collection of nostalgia candy has him…not my problem. Side note, a third
of my QL has been dedicated to the color coded alert system. The other day
I flew into La Guardia, and there was a sort of color brite sign with a
rain bow on it. I freaked. Was this the end? Ummm which color, all the
colors? Is there a gay attack? What about Kermit the Frog? Turns out it
was a sign for smoothies.

Wow. I just picked up my niece from elementary school. Their top secret
double bubble ultra protection was that I have a bright pink, in-school
laminated tag with her name on it. Dat’s it! That gets me past the
security. Let’em stay at school…be or deal with the bully…let them fall
off the gym equipment without the helmets and spongy material under the
jungle gym. (Can I still use that world, jungle gym? Oh…okay. I am told it
was a specific reference and we are cool on censors) Man, that was rant.
Can I use the word “man” anymore…?

What? Because she is cute or he butt ugly or whatever it’s gender; is
covered in hardened Mickey D’s pump ketchup, I have to wonder why it is
peeing on the floor in said restaurant’s MEN’s room. I spent a good
portion of my QL watching a lot of CSI-everywhere. When I see kids covered
in red anything, roaming around by themselves…I start looking for a crime
scene and a couple of gallons of bleach.

I get edgy around Xanax withdrawing kids and their moms. I dial, 9, then 1
and then have my finger ready to punch in the next 1. I call it the ¼ life
speed dial.

Okay the pregnant, stork signs after the handicap postings are funny and
courteous. I am a Texas gentleman, will kill for a woman’s honor, a
Southern boy who will give up his seat, decent metro-sexual (is that still
a word?) willing to give up my parking space. But dammit…hurry your baby
bump up and pull in or out. Your husband obviously was not proficient on
the later. Ba da baaa.

Strollers. Have you seen these things? Most quarter lifers do not have
such expensive cars. Most soldiers jumping for the 101st Airborne do not
have this much equipment.

Baby I-Pad, baby Nike, baby Dell, baby fueled economy. Sadly, if it were
not for those cute, wee little sneakers and the chicks buying them, all
the Obama TARP measures in the world could not save us from economic
Armageddon.

Lastly, what the hell is your kid gonna do? The Quarter Life economy is in
pretty bad shape. Seriously, besides dad’s unfulfilled X-Gen or
generational higher goals of A-Rod’s money or sleeping with Madonna…dreams
of some long ago, non steroid athlete and musical bombshell…or mom’s
wanna-be soccer practice while still balancing a legal career and an Iron
Chef’s kitchen…there are no jobs!

Texting is not a job. Sexting is. Gangsta rap is not a job. Killing people
within the confines of the USMC and the Geneva Code as a private first
class is. Nursing…yea for the girls…but man…dude. You want your son to be
a nurse? Okay that was pretty sexiest. I am sorry. Umm…too many
accountants, lawyers a bundle, doctors are afraid of taking patients…your
kid might make a therapist, online consultant (if they immigrate to the
Indian Sub Continent) or A/C repair man. Global warming baby.

Ergo…maybe you want to go the prego route., maybe not…maybe you just don’t
know yet. Darwin, your body, and your enlightened corporate health care
plan will have to make that decision. There is no rush and the Quarter
Life ticker is not tocking away. Take your time and make the best call for
you…and the little poop machine.

Hey…do you think since I mentioned the whole cash for kids thing…am I on
some FBI list now? Still, sounds more of a Securities and Exchange
Commission thing don’t it?

Zombie Invasion

November 18, 2010

Seems everywhere I turn these days zombies are the in-thing. And with the new television series “The Walking Dead” it is uber fashionable. That show is sort of like the writers of “Mad Men” got together with the Spiderman trilogy director and creator of Xena, Sam Raimi and B-actor Bruce Campbell…and drank way too much to much tequila.

This sort of all makes sense seeing that existence in 2010 is kind of like being among the walking dead. Hey Quarter Life has its up and down days…and sometimes zombie weeks or decades. I have spent a greater portion of my twenties do just that.

About 4 million people do it every Tuesday and Saturday night when watching Glee or SNL respectively.

Brains! Brains! Brains!

And this passion for the genre has been growing exponentially every year. We have zombie 5k lurches for Prostrate Cancer research (you would think a more cerebral cause might have been a better choice) to 10-12 zombie related movies per year pumped out by the Hollywood crap factory. Still a few good ones out there. My personal favs are still Shaun of the Dead and Zombie Land. Oh…and I am Legend. Will Smith might be lonely. But all of NYC to yourself? Guns, fast cars, chilling with your dog, golf chip shots off an air craft carrier. We should all be so lucky if the world ends tomorrow!

And on the subject of watching scary zombie related material. Never, ever do the following while viewing zombie related material.

10. When your fiancé asks you what you would do if she caught the cliché “virus” and she turns into the undead. Never, ever respond you would “ice” her for the betterment of mankind by keeping the pandemic in check. You may now insert the appropriate, totally over the top emotional, tears and the late night argument about how I do not love her enough to no join her in the whole undead thing. Oh, and then after the apopylysce is over, will I start dating that quit blonde in the cubicle next to me?

9. Never ask yourself if personality type A translates over at all into the zombie world. Why are they always so dirty? Would probably break the cinematic forth wall if we suddenly cut to a scene where one walking corpse is busily scrubbing his clothes, “Oh these darn blood stains are so hard to get out. Does anyone have a Shout It Out stick?”

8. Do zombies poop? If they eat the brains, where do they go after that?

7. Never watch one zombie movie from 1974 then one from 2009. Make up is worse, but you will like the older one better and they are so hard to find on DVD.

6. Never, ever look around the room and even for a moment entertain the idea who you would eat first if you became an extra in a “Thriller” video. And do not let above-mentioned fiancé realize it will not be her…and your choice would be your cousin’s sweet college girlfriend. But not her brains. Hey! I am dead…I do WHAT I WANT. WHEN I WANTS IT!

5. Not a good idea to eat Mexican trailer food off of Congress Avenue, Austin, Texas before sitting down to a zombie movie fest. You will wish to be dead, smell like the dead and the bathroom will be for the undead until the EPA removes the plastic tent two weeks later.

4. Never ponder during beer five (the prime buzz time before you sober up or plunge in for more), why do even the hot chicks in zombie movies go un-hot suddenly when zombiefied? And all the clothes? Personally if I am undead, the rules are off. I am dining and dying in the buff!

3. If you are a hypochondriac or have even the tiniest nugget of OCD about government conspiracies to enslave humanity with experiments which go horribly wrong. Do not rent, AMC, STARZ view any zombie flick from 1996 to the present. (Oh…on the low down, hush-hush, the vapor trails left by high flying jets are how they spray the chemicals on us.)

2. Again, never scan the room, spy your college bud who has gained a few extra lbs and say…“hmmm, he looks like there might be some good marbling there. 350 degrees, fifteen minutes per pound, garlic, a nice rosemary, red peppercorn glaze…”

1. Never get into a group discussion about either the moral complications of killing human life or who was the best zombie of all time. I lost some good friends that night. My personal favorite is a QL classic. South Park’s Kenny when he comes back from the dead in the first season because he embalmed with Worchester sauce at the morgue.

And that is my daily QL rant on today’s entertainment and my apparent need to work on relationships in this life and the next. At least my ramblings were not about the uber popular girly tween-teen and wishful could fit into their skinny jeans helicopter moms, screaming about gay virgin vampires and shirtless werewolves. I keep my fictional monsters on the cool side. And I keep my real life ones very hot. I am looking at you blondie.

Less is More in the ¼ Life

November 12, 2010

That’s what I keep hearing…

No Innuendos Please.

Let’s face it. You are getting less bang for your buck. And your needs
were as ever great as any poor widow on Tottem Court Road off of
Piccadilly Square. (Wait. That is Elisa Doolittle from My Fair Lady)

Where are my notes? Here they are.

QLs. We have appetites for food, health, wealth, X-treme everything, our
parent’s salaries and pensions, health benefits, sex, Pottery Barn
lifestyles and to pull off that local community college center class on
red wine appreciation…has to offer.

But, it ain’t gonna happen. First time since the fall of Rome me says.
Where the current generation’s grandparent’s look forward and know they
had it better then their own grand and g-grand kids will. We are gonna get
less of the pie than those before us. Portion control my ass! Again,
despite my previous articles…no sexual innuendos. Please. I am slightly,
ever so trying to be serious.

Less if more.

But hey…they say less clutter the better. So Quarter Lifers. Let us cram
what we don’t need in the recycle bin, and demand more from the latest CDC
statistics that our parents life expectancy rate of 78.5 years will be
only 76.4 years for us…

Huh?

Really?

Are you sure? Yes? Okay…Well, that is not good news.

Hmmmm?

…But the ARE OUR YEARS DAMMIT!

Less is More!

Less salary is less of a purse which is less leather or less of a
faux-pleather Gucci bag you have full of other crap you do not need. Plus
I so hear those bags were made in a sex-slave trade factory in Calcutta,
where AIDS was born. Down with slave wages and Ceylon!…or is it disease?!
Well, anyway. Just carry your ID, a Franklin dollar bill, your health
benefits card when you go out clubbing. Those giganto bags the
Kardissshhhh sisters wear are how they smuggle in their own sweat shop
workers.

Less of a carbon footprint is less of a guilt trip about just drinking out
of a water bottle given to you at some 5K walk-a-thon you did for a
friend, on a bet, for a way “out of fashion” wrist bracelet for a cause
that has received billions, but United Way got most the funds. I am
looking at you Lance and Mrs. K.

Less is more in the Quarter Life when it comes to calories. Not because
you are cutting back, but because a 10 oz. Lean Cuisine is now 9.4 oz and
jacked up another 30 cents. Blame out-sourcing…not like we needed to eat
that crap anyway.

Less love is less life…like so many disposable things in this life,
divorce is up, marriage is down, we argue about what it means to be
married while forgetting we need to love more and hate less. Can I get an
ahhhhhhhhhh from the ladies in the house. No…not you Cecil. You are not a
lady…and though flattered, I am straight.
Less exercise is still more pounds, but hell…it will soon be a deduction
on your Hover-Round or 1040 EZ tax form. And QL dudes. I just remembered I
don’t have to sign up for Selective Service anymore. It stops at 29. What?
You never did? Do you know what I am even talking about? The Draft dude.
Seriously? Well, it does not matter…you are fat and so the “less exercise
less combat” thing applies. America’s next generation of cyber warriors
and it seems gay people are dying to get and stay in the Armed Forces.
Never you mind…just sit back, lick your Chet stained fingers and dream of
Madden ‘11.

Less is more. That’s what the Dems, GOP, Tea-Party types…well anyone in
political office is telling me. Napoleon once said the best way to start a
revolution was to first start with killing all the lawyers. Course he
ended up conquering a continent, ushering in a new era, but was exiled to
a island rock in the South Atlantic without a trial by law. And I bet the
same will be said of the X-Y Gens. Just less poetically so and with more
texting verbiage. 8-DOO( – ;) Viv la Revolution…
(Classic joke insert: What do you call 10,000 dead lawyers on the bottom
of the ocean? A GOOD START!)

Less…really Les (or Leslie) was the name of a chick buddy I had back
during my sophomore year in college. Yea. It sounded like dude’s name, but
back then I could actually meet her and not worry about some fat, cat
fetish, Hep-C card carrying pedo bear fooling me over the internet. I met
her at the student center…get this f-ing fact…FACE to FACE, like a human.
But, again Les, then became a real Leslie…like she got a “package” of her
own Leslie. I like to figure I drove her, him, it…whatever to such a
decision. Who wouldn’t want to be more like me and less of a man?

Where is Daniel Tosh when I need him? Course I could not stop from kidding
her incessantly about her name. Les, lez, lezbo, Lesbo…and so on…oh…good
times. I think Les walked on a house loan when the Vegas housing market
plummeted and now works the strip. Huh?

Less again…less hate, but more tolerance for a gentle joke would be best
for any and all groups who have a current law suit against me for having
an opinion. I am aware restraining orders are a real hassle for everyone.
The guy in the Burger King costume notwithstanding.

Less is the new more. That’s what I am rolling out for the Obama campaign
in 2012. Let me try this…old Jedi mind trick. “You will believe less is
more. These are not the droids or way of life you were looking for. Your
college loans are not controlled by the Feds. And you like the new Droid
phone.”

Did you see it? Did you catch the double droid? In the biz…that’s what we
call good writing.

Less is more. Less is more. Less is more.

It is gonna have to be. Because I am done for the night. Time for me to
hit Sonic for my Route 44 Lime-Aid, well deserved Cartoon Network Adult
Swim and an Ambien. Good night.

Halloween versus Porn…Who ya got?

November 12, 2010

What is a ghost’s favorite pet or snack food?

…a Halloweenie.

In honor of the reason for the season I thought to put together a ¼ life
perspective on my favorite time and holiday of the year.

The childish nature of the above joke and the reference to hot dogs,
dachshunds, snack time and weenies will all become very apparent…so stay
with me on this.

Oh, nothing like sweet childhood memories of tricks and treats on a cool
autumn evening. As the sun went down, the wind gently swept a gathering of
fall leaves around my aluminum foil covered box robot costume. Jack ‘o
lanterns and their hues of glowing orange lit my way from house to house.

Then over the next decade or two…maybe I just gave up toilet papering old
man Johnson’s house last year…but imperceptibly Halloween lost all of its
sweet innocence of dress up, pop corn balls, bobbing for apples feel.

So I ask. What the freaking hell? I have been to sinful play at Mardi
Gras, in Rio, Chelsea Clinton’s bachelorette party and when the LSD and
non disclosure agreements wear off I can tell you about my tour in Iraq.
But, Halloween has turned into the Sodom of the holidays. Skimpy costumes,
made to gothic up those coeds and that one girl who had four changes of
outfits, FOUR, count them four different Disney princesses…oh and the
hussy with the over 18 adult Hermione Hogwart’s school skirt…hmmhmmm.

Shameful. Shameful.

And the most angry part about this travesty of lost childhoods, I have
already graduated from college!
It practically begs for me to put some sort of tag line about a witch,
black Sabbath and a ride on a broom stick here.

Oh, Great Pumpkin! Why do you tempt me so with things that my Quarter Life
has passed me by? As Sally said in the above mentioned, beloved cartoon
Peanuts TV special, “Where is my time? Where are my treats? I demand
restitution!”

The following demands I make on the holiday, Wicca, Hallmark and society
in general for ruining my holiday and/or to make up that I cannot have as
much fun as the kids today are.

1. One invitation to the Playboy Mansion’s Halloween Ball. Just ONE
invitation please. What? Someone has to stay and hand out candy…might as
well be the fiancé. Wink, wink…nudge, nudge…say no more.

2. No more pumpkin carving kits. When my QL ass was a kid, I had
newspaper, a pencil and a paring knife…and imagination.

3. No X-ray machines. There was like one incident back in 1974 and it is
wallowed in urban legend ever since. No one puts razor blades in candy. If
people in your neighborhood do, that’s because you live in a Federal
prison.

4. Laws that stop the purchase of toilet paper and eggs 48 hours before
Halloween should be repealed. And what if I had some QL GI track tummy
ache issues or needed to bake a wedding cake…huh? Huh? How else am I
supposed to follow the Food Network’s Ace of Cakes without eggs?

5. Two-day Halloween national holiday. The day of and the day after. And
while on the subject of holidays…throw in Monday after the Super Bowl. Oh,
and people who work at banks have to show up for their jobs. Stick it to
the MAN!

6. Bring back candy cigarettes. How else am I suppose to look cool?

7. All costumes must be homemade. Sheets, garbage bags, construction
paper, tape, etc. Except for the aforementioned college parties. Ladies?
Knock yourselves out. Boys? Break out the Jell-O shots. I’m bringing my
1999 party mix CD and we are tearing up the dorm.

8. Trick or treating must continue til after 10:00 PM. Man…you could not
pull me into the house with anything but a tazor. I had the streets all
worked out, plan of action, maps…these days, kids are all hustled away
into their homes to watch the I-Carly special before the sun goes down.

9. No Christmas crap in the stores til November 1. Let’s not mess with
extremes here people. Some hard line Kansas evangelicals don’t like mixing
the two, and personally I do not like to be pushed around by Target.

10. The Simpson’s Haunted Tree House of Horrors television special can
only be aired in October. I am tired of Fox pulling its BS of a first
weekend in November after the NFL game wrap up.

That’s my rant. That’s my list of demands. That’s my QL prayer to the
Great Pumpkin.

I Cut My Cable

September 26, 2010

No DVR. No wireless. No modem. No telephone. Nothing, nada, zilch, donut.

Got tired of 999 channels, $145 bucks a month and still nothing to watch.

I never used my home phone. I decided to just use that cyber dude’s
unguarded wireless in my apartment complex. I never watch the game in the
abode. And I never really needed so much digital high definition that I
can see the make up mistakes in old movies, the pulsating acne in Saved By
the Bell re runs and that Real Housewives of anywhere have more lines on
their skin then a subway map.

My new quarter life visual arts technology philosophy is, if I need to see
it, I will just Hulu or wait for it to be posted in bits and pieces on You
Tube.

Down side. I do have to paint my wall though. The plasma sort of gave a
poltergeist burnt hue to the place. I can only imagine what the radiation
did to my brain and my sperm count.

Think about it. No more shows about hospitals, cops, courtroom drama. No
more television about people who chat with ghosts. No more network
sanctioned human auctioning like Bachelorette or Who Wants a Date with
this washed up rapper. No more vampires. No more Jersey-ANYTHING.

And you know what? I feel good.

My ¼ life carbon footprint is smaller and so is the ass print on the couch.
My bar bill will go up, but I am getting out of the house more.
My monthly household expenses will be less, but I might make that up with
movie downloads.
My Weii has not been touched in months, I have a girlfriend…so nothing
changed there.

And MY opportunity at seeing the face of my college freshman cousin’s eyes
light up when I brought my 72-incher as a dorm warming present…was worth
all the hours of potato-ing I have ever done.

Quarter Life %$#!-it List

September 15, 2010

Get it? Bucket list?

Well, since even list making has become so blogger defined with the
bucket, I Hate, Top Ten, WTFs and Fails…I thought to make up my own
category.

This is not what I wanted to do before I “kicked the bucket” or moved on
from this quarter life list. Just a 7-Day thing. In order to work out of
my weekly quarter life crisis I decided on a fudge-it list. I might not
achieve it all, but it is really about the journey…right?

This week I will…

Get a washboard stomach? Again it is all about the try.

Pitch an idea to Bravo television where I open a restaurant that only
sells grilled cheese.

Get a Tosh.O Web Redemption.

Research, explore, discover and befriend Bigfoot. Shoot him, have him
stuffed, get front page in the National Enquirer and National
Geographic…and then hit the state fair circuit charging two bit’s a gander
to view the 8th wonder of the world!

Find peace with my ex’s credit score and identity theft.

Eat and exercise right. See my first list item.

Perfect the art of the cinnamon roll. Probably not going to help me on
number one either.

Crash a college party or tail-gater and be “that” guy at the keg. (I
graduated like a million years ago)

Do my Halloween shopping early. I want to be that crazy guy on the block
that always has the coolest haunted house in his garage. Course that will
probably land me on some law enforcement list.

Come to peace with a funny little man I like to call “me”

That’s it…all doable…all attainable…all mine. No matter the outcome, I am
able to say $%#-it! I tried!

“What did you do this week?”

Dude! You Are Getting a Dell!

August 27, 2010

You might remember this catch phrase used by Dell Computers for its commercial ad campaigns during the early 2000’s. The actor was so popular he was fondly labeled the “Dell Kid“, got a spread in Tiger Beat and was being courted by Spielberg. Then he got caught smoking pot and his career went into the same. You would have thought the Austin police department would have been more forgiving. (See Matthew McConaughey, naked bongo, the Bush twins, public intoxication, George W. and DUI) But, whatever. This little article is more about the computing side of things than the various addictive attributes of today’s cultural icons (See President Obama, smoking, Michelle Obama and Illinois practicing law ethics disbarment).

I did, indeed, get a Dell this past week. Like all quarter lifers, I was pretty much raised and reared on electronic gizmos. Nintendo, Internet, Cell Phones, DVD, etc. Yet, 20-somethings take’ em for granted. The day my computer was to arrive, it was like Christmas. Because of the tracking software program at Dell, I even knew the hour when the little package was to arrive. When I heard the big diesel engine of the FedEx truck it was like Santa’s reindeers’ hooves on the rooftop. I ran outside, scribbled something like a signature and off I went inside with my new toy.

Boy how things have changed. The last computer I got came in three separate boxes, one for the uber monitor, the desk top and sundry things, and lastly the key board. The monitor box was big enough to make a fort out of. Which I did later on. Yes, this was just Christmas 2003 and some of us mature at different rates.

Well, my current wonder of technology came in one box, the size of a hefty attentive boyfriend’s gift of Valentine’s Day chocolates. Inside were three back up disks, the laptop and a power cord. I plugged it in, heard the musical charms of a computer booting up and five minutes later I was up on the Net with the capacity to surf porn so fast Superman would get a blister. I kid. Really I do. There is no way Superman could ever get a blister, he is the Man of Steel.

I took a moment to pause. Dude! You have it easy. All this tech stuff makes life so convenient, so complex at times, but a lot better no matter what. And Dude! You don’t even appreciate the changes that have occurred in your short life. It is almost too easy. Standing on the shoulders of giants and such. So in a zen moment of clarity, I put the new plaything away. I had been without a computer for a week and I thought I was going crazy. But, life went on. Maybe the same could be done with the cell, the texting, cable, etc.

And up ‘til this posting I turned them all off. A full week without any of the things that seemed to be so important. I actually like that I carried around a nice little leather notebook, pencil in hand and was not only able to survive, but enjoyed the tactile sense of writing, the lack of audio intrusions of cell phone beeps and the constant eye pollution from the television.

Sure, I am back up, reentering the world I cannot totally Robinson Crusoe away from. But, this time I refuse to reload into the Matrix. Dude! I got a Dell, but it and all of its electronic cronies will not own me.

I indeed did get a Dell this past week. Like all quarter lifers, I was pretty much raised and reared on electronic gizmos. Nintendo, Internet, Cell Phones, DVD, etc. Yet, 20-somethings take’em for granted. The day my computer was to arrive, it was like Christmas. Because of the tracking software program at Dell, I even knew the hour when the little package was to arrive. When I heard the big disiel engine of the FedEx truck it was like Santa’s reindeers’ hooves on the rooftop. I ran outside, scribbled something like a signature and off I went inside with my new toy.

Boy how things have changed. The last computer I got came in three separate boxes, one for the uber monitor, the desk top and sundry things & then lastly the key board. The monitor box was big enough to make a fort out of. Which I did later on. Yes, this was just Christmas 2003 and some of us mature at different rates.

Well, my current wonder of technology came in one box, the size of a hefty attentive boyfriend’s gift of Valentine’s Day chocolates. Inside were three back up disks, the laptop and a power cord. I plugged it in, heard the musical charms of a computer booting up and five minutes later I was up on the Net with the capacity to surf porn so fast Superman would get a blister. I kid. Really I do. There is no way Superman could ever get a blister, he is the Man of Steel.

Long story short. I took a moment to pause. Dude! You have it easy. All this tech stuff makes life so convenient, so complex at times, but a lot better no matter what. And Dude! You don’t even appreciate the changes that have occurred in your short life. It is almost too easy. Standing on the shoulders of giants and such. So in a zen moment of clarity, I put the new plaything away. I had been without a computer for a week and I thought I was going crazy. But, life went on. Maybe the same could be done with the cell, the texting, cable, etc.

And up til this posting I turned them all off. A full week without any of the things that seemed to be so important. I actually like that I carried around a nice little leather notebook, pencil in hand and was not only able to survive, but enjoyed the tactile sense of writing, the lack of audio intrusions of cell phone beeps and the constant eye pollution from the television.

Sure, I am back up, reentering the world I cannot totally Robinson Crusoe away from. But, this time I refuse to reload into the Matrix. Dude! I got a Dell, but it and all of its electronic cronies will not own me.

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