Tuesday, June 22, 2010

No honor amongst thieves (and white trash)

Captain's Log
Saturday Night
9:00 p.m.
The Gartrell Residence

So I Started this night out on the right foot for sure (3 jager bombs within 5 minutes of arrival.) The warm night was steadily depeloping into a debate as to whether or not to go bowling on a then-dubbed "couples night". Slowly but surely it was becoming more and more entertaining. Little did i know that something as simple as a 30 second phone call that was inevitably on its way could have such immense effects on an eccentric summer evening as this one. However, at the time we saw it as nothing more than an invite to a possibly epic bachelorette party... Two amaretto sours and two shots of jager later, and we are on our way.

9:45 p.m.
A Bachelorette party in byram

As i walk in the door to a random house filled with double digits worth of women, my mind races over just how much fun this little adventure could be. (You see, random adventures are rarely, if ever, mediocre. They have a great track record of being either absolutely amazing, or incredibly horrific. This story unfortunately revolves around the latter.) Being the gentleman that i am, i introduce myself shortly after walking into the home. This followed by a prompt "Ladies...How are y'all doing this evening?" And what happens next, will echo in part of my mind for the rest of my days on this earth.


Inaudible, Deafening silence. You see, we had walked ourselves into a house where we were apparently not welcome. At all. Period. My eyes slowly scanned the room noticing the cold piercing gazes of multiple angry, drunken women. "what the fuck is going on here?" i thought to myself. After a few seconds of trying to sober up enough to realize just what in God's holy name i had gotten myself into, i remembered the contingency plan.

If i could ever teach anybody anything worth knowing in this life it would be to always have a plan B. A backup plan, if you will. Things go wrong my friends. plan on it.The contingency plan in this case (as well as 99 percent of all other cases where things to terribly awry) Find. The. Booze.

So i did. A crown and coke to be precise. Then it was off to the back patio to blast a cig and contemplate the consequences of doing humanity a favor and burning this horrendous place straight back to hell. However, i noticed that outside lay a new face. One that wasn't part of the initial "O.G. hate brigade" (copyright) that lied inside of this wretched house. I thought maybe this one would be a little bit more optimistic, and if nothing else, at least sane...

WRONG. This one was the apparently the avid ringleader of this mad crew of crazy females. Here's an example of the conversation, paraphrased.

Me: "How are you?"
Ringleader: (insert bitchy remark here)
Me: "alright, why are these women inside so vicious?"
Ringleader: "you are guys at a bachelorette party"

And there you have it ladies and gentlemen. It was a trap. From the time i stepped foot inside of this house, i was instantly met with blind hatred. And Similar to a black man at a KKK Rally, there was nothing i could do but try and make it out alive. I've never been hated for the sole reason of being a man before, and it was, at the very least, quite an interesting experience. However, upon the drunken uptake of this recent information, our crew decides to follow this avid ringleader to a party at a siblings house, 45 minutes away. I thought it couldn't be any worse than this...right?

WRONG. The home team is 0 for 2.

12:00 a.m.
Outskirts of Gluckstadt.

Upon initial arrival to this semi-awesome residence, things seem to be looking up. Our entourage is now about 10 bitches lighter (thank God) and we're meeting people who seem to be pretty decent. Very Country, But decent nonetheless.

It played out like any scenario where a bunch of people show up hammered to someone's house (who is conveniently also trashed) Multiple introductions, a few spilled drinks, a dog that's been labeled gay running around the house, etc. Alcohol is consumed, and the party moves outside to the pier on the lake.

As a side note, when at parties with your own group, try to at least stay in groups of two This way, if things go down, you're never by yourself when it happens. (The buddy system always works well in this situation)

This time, sadly, i had gotten so insanely lit that i forgot all about the buddy system. I had somehow become separated from my group, and was now on the front lines of what would shortly turn into a smack-talking clusterfuck that would make The Player-hater awards look like a scuffle on Sesame Street.

Here are the key parties involved, who will remain anonymous. (you're welcome, bitches.)

Avid Ringleader
Pregnant chick who actually wasnt pregnant
Avid Ringleaders Siblings
Aforementioned Siblings significant others

and of course, me.

The time on the pier started off pretty normal. Good conversations, Old boy playing fetch with his dog, couples chilling in the moonlight, etc.

And then it happened.

Ringleader started talking some mad shit. and then some more. and then some MORE. about me. and then about my crew. and then the person in my crew THAT SHE FUCKING INVITED. It took me a while to understand the gravity of the situation (since i rarely am the subject of some vicious bitch's feeding frenzy for self-gratification.) Plus i was drunk, which as we all know, always slows the uptake. But after about 15 seconds of some serious thought, i realized that i wasnt just imagining this woman doing the unthinkable...she actually WAS doing it. I sat back and watched as she quickly tried to demean myself and those closest to me. Still in shock from this initial act of debauchery, i struggle to say the only thing i can think of at the moment.

"are you a bitch to everyone that you meet for the first time?"

Ringleader: "pretty much"


You can't argue with logic like that my friends. That has to be the most stupid bulletproof arguement i have ever heard. I sat there stunned for a moment, beer and cigarette in hand. I mean, you cant win an arguement if the opposer is, to be blunt, too stupid to counter with a rational statement. right? right.

The most disappointing factor in this entire situation, is the fact that ringleaders own family wouldn't man up and keep a spoiled rotten sibling in check. I can say this because i have a sister (who, for the record, was raised to not-be-vicious) and if she were to ever talk to a guest at my house like that, it would be dealt with swiftly. And Immediately. we're talking instant intervention. Whether she be 15 or 45. Because that's what you do when your family starts doing things that are unacceptable to societies basic moral principles. one word: civility

Around 1:00 a.m.

I've deemed this social gathering (and it's participants) a lost cause. The search is on for the other crewmembers in a desperate attempt to roll out. One by one they are picked up and ushered out, German S.S. style. Upon reaching the car, i am relentless on us getting the hell out of this house as fast as humanly possible. Tryin to haul ass like we owed these people money. Finally, in what was about 2 minutes altogether (felt like eternity) we are all accounted for and headed home.

un. fucking. believable.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Long Story Short

Customer: Which one of these phones is better?
Myself: Well, This one is better at reception, but this one has a few more added features.
Customer: You're wrong.
Myself: No, I’m not.
Customer: I had one of these about six years ago, and it was terrible.
Myself: Well they've come a long way in the past six years...
Customer: No, I know for a fact that they're still terrible.
Myself: And how is that?
Customer: I just know.
Myself: Did you know someone else who had one that wasn't quite up to par?
Customer: I'm not sure if I like your attitude.
Myself: Just let me know if you have any more questions.

So for those of you who know me, you have my deepest condolences you know just how much I love being right. I mean, I really, really love it. It's sort of like a sport for me, maybe even a calling. Some people just have it, by birth or by choice. Michael Jordan had basketball, Steve Jobs had Apple, and I have the ability to argue. With anyone. About anything. Period.
Now I know this comes across as arrogant and cocky (read: a little) But it's a about time it was all laid out on the table. I don't usually jump into conversations I know absolutely nothing about. But when I'm voicing my opinion, believe that it is well educated. It is. Does this mean that I’m right one hundred percent of the time? Brace yourselves, no, no it doesn't. However, I do strive (and gracefully achieve) to be in the 90th percentile, or higher.
The point is that I rarely get into an argument where I’m not one hundred percent sure that I’m on the correct side. I'm not arguing to prove that I’m right, as much as I’m doing it to prove someone else is wrong. And if I simply walk away from a heated debate, do not make the mistake of assuming that you've won. I have simply realized that arguing won't make a difference. You see, I’m not a fan of wasting my breath, or my time. You were wrong, you are wrong, and you will continue to be wrong. Until God comes down and reverses the polarity of Universal Truth, it will stay that way.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Jables' Party Survival Guide

SO i might be in a slight redbull-and-benadryl induced psychosis, but i still know what you guys are thinking right now. "Jared, all of your lists and guides are so awesome that we run a risk of dying an instant, happy and fulfilling death just by reading them!" GTFO! You guys are so sweet. Now get to reading before i have to pull out my puerto rican credit card (read: a gun)

NOW I KNOW, (and when i say that i really don't) how much you teenage, middle age, and redonkulously old age people love to party) HOWEVER, remember what your all-knowing jables always says, "Don't Be Dimwits, Know your Limits.™ (Trademark Bitches) When you're at a social gathering, whatever the type may be, there are still some slight rules and regulations that must be adhered to. Folks, This just might be the last list you'll ever need to read, Riiiight? RIGHT!? Wrong?!? Damnit

A) Don't Show up To a party that you're not wanted invited to (or wanted at?)
I mean seriously people. Would Obama show up to a clan rally? ANSWER: Not unless they could fix healthcare. HIYO! kidding, only kidding. CORRECT ANSWER: No, no he would not. Because they don't want him there. Please do not show up to a place where the thought of you makes people throw up in their mouths a little bit. It just looks bad, and when i say bad, i mean like short bus traffic accident bad.

B) For God's sake man, have some swagger
Whether you believe it or not, how you carry yourself speaks to others louder than words. Just because you don't think that drunkenly running all around the house you are at makes you look bad, it still does. I can stand in front of a speeding semi and think it won't hurt me all i want to, but it still won't change the fact that someone will be scraping me off the pavement afterwards. All you have to do is grow up just a weeee bit, and things will be J-Okay (see what i did there?)

The title says it all on this one guys. However, for those of you who don't know the terminology of "that guy" here is urban dictionary's number one definition. "The guy that everbody hates, and nobody wants to become." SHOWSTOPPA! now you know. Here's me using the term in a sentence to help you all understand even better. "OMFG PRAY TO CHRIST YOU DON'T BECOME 'THAT GUY'." Catch my drift? I'd go into more detail on what makes "that guy" but it's sort of like profiling a serial killer. (Read: time consuming and pointless)

D) Don't Be Dimwits Dumbasses
What's the one thing that's worse than one person thowing up in public? If you said two people throwing up, then you are right. (suck it, regis) Newsflash people, 90 percent of the people on this planet love the firewater, and the other 10 percent live boring, unsuccessful lives. (Intervention? whaaat?) Point is, you have to know your point of no return. When you're standing still and somehow miraculously still moving, that's usually a pretty clear sign that it's time to 86 the inking-dray (Pig latin word magic baby, ZING!)

E) Quit While you're ahead
Have you ever heard the saying "always leave them wanting more?" Well, it's basically a nice way of saying leave before they get sick of you. (Did i just blow your mind or what? OR WHAT WASNT A REAL CHOICE DAMNIT) Always try and pick yourself up off the floor and crawl back to the same car you arrived in, before a drunken angry mob does it for you. SHAZAM ZOMG did you see that!? you just survived the most ballin party in the history of ever. Aaaaaand You're welcome.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Art of Conversation

Communication 1.)the imparting or interchange of thoughts, opinions, or information by speech, writing, or signs.

In Lieu of recent events (read: a mind-boggling forty-five minute long conversation about absolutely nothing) I have decided to grace you fantastic readers with another (you guessed it) list... In this Post I will go over the proper etiquette of conversing in a way that still maintains reason, and dignity for all parties involved. I cannot urge BEG you enough to please, PLEASE take heed to the information you are about to read. For humanity's sake, as well as my own.

1) When attempting to have a conversation (be it inquisitive, informative, or entertaining) remember to keep it short, unless the other party shows INTEREST in what you have to say. Constant nagging with endless, mindless bullshit causes headaches, and (were I a lesser man) violence. Assuming that the other party is interested in anything you have to say can have horrendous consequences (mainly for the audience that you are torturing with your never-ending jabberwocky.) And remember what I always say... When you assume, you become a pain in the ass to me.

2) Look deep into my eyes, and honestly ask yourself if I care. (Judges?) No. With me personally, if i start avoiding eye contact with you (usually by staring directly at your forehead) It might be a not-so-subtle hint that I'd rather salt my own profusely bleeding open wounds than continue on with this counter-productive dialogue. Another noticable course of action is that I haved stopped responding to your questions. The reason behind this is that i'm frantically praying that God will smite me with a bolt of lightening, (possibly a stray meteor?) to rescue me from the abyss of stupidity that you have dragged us both down into, kamikaze style.

3) When You are the only one talking, the conversation has officially ended. If you notice that you've been talking to yourself for the past 20 minutes and then look up to see me standing there with both eyes focused in different directions, and uncontrollably drooling, Congratulations. You have officially bored me into a coma. It seems the only refuge i could find from our pointless conversation, was in my own mind. So there i stand, my cognizant mind locked inside my head more secure than fort knox during a terrorist attack. If you keep on talking, you just might be responsible for the death of an innocent man, and you don't want that kind of blood on your hands do you? Exactly.

4) When the conversation is over, IT IS OVER. Despite what many of you might think, there are two common misconceptions about yours truly. 1) I am not the devil, and 2) I do have a life. And if that life involves me sitting around bored out of my mind and blogging all day, i have come to accept that. HOWEVER, do not make the mistake that my time is as invaluable as your own. Me standing around doing absolutely nothing is still more productive than your braincell-killing chatter. If you want to be a waste of time, human flesh and natural resources by talking non-stop about absolutely nothing, then go right ahead. Just be sure you're not around anybody with an IQ higher than 50 (houseplant) while you're doing it.

5) Ignorance is not bliss. For example, I might be ignorant of what you're talking about, but it still physically hurts me to hear you talk about it. The same goes for you, and being a dumbass. Now don't get me wrong, I know how the world works, and i have a pretty good idea of the people who inhabit it. I know that when the Almighty was handing out servings of stupid, some people got in line twice. That's just the way of the world, But please have mercy on the rest of us.

6) You have realized the conversation is over, so don't turn around and start it all over again. As if you haven't already blown my mind, you don't have to be mean about it. You give me hope as you slowly but surely inch toward the door, only to bring it all crashing down when you turn around and start talking again. Don't be an under-achiever. If your goal is to walk out that door and stop being a nuisance, then i will do everything in my power to help you accomplish it. Need me to strap you to a dolly and wheel you out? Done. Grease you up and slide you right out the front door? You got it. At this point i would literally spend the rest of my life building a working jetpack, if i know that when it's done, it will fly your ass right the hell out of here.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Gentlemen and the Chivalric Code

Time: 8:40 a.m.
Location: Small gas station in Gluckstadt.

As i step out of my car and wander in a morning stupor toward the double doors to this fine establishment, i see an older woman stepping out of her car (sporting a morning haze uncannily similar to my own.) As she slowly approaches the door behind me, i open it and hold it for her to enter first. This Ladies and Gentlemen, is what's known as common courtesy, and it currently wavers under the immense weight of people's own selfish intentions. She Smiles at me, and slowly waddles into the store, hopefully noticing that Chivalry (for all intents and purposes) is not completely dead.

Gone are the values of days past, where women and the elderly were respected and valued as almost seperate (read: important) members of society. In today's modern world, they are being merged into the common rat race that is everyday life. Personally, i'm not sure who is to blame for such a disgusting deflection of hundreds of years of romanticist ideals. Many women scream for equality with men, not realizing that equality doesn't just pick and choose certain areas of life to apply to. Should women be treated differently? Yes. Should it be in a demeaning way? No, not at all. Here is why:

The Chivalric Code
Years ago my mother bought me a book called The compleat Gentleman: A modern man's guide to chivalry. Looking back at this moment, i'm still not sure if it was one of the best (or absolute worst) turning points in my life. Trying to uphold this specific set of ethics in today's world is equivalent to setting sail on a sinking ship. The author goes into great detail about how true gentlemen stick to a set of guidelines. Put simply, it entails strict loyalty to a simple set of ideals.
1) God
2) Country
3) Family
4) Protection of the innocent

Not too hard to understand, right? The stories of King Arthur probably give you the best retro-spective view on the whole ordeal. Men sitting at a round table, with a queen who sits two steps above it. These men are my personal heroes, willing to sacrifice themselves in order to preserve and protect the innocent. In times of war, women and children were ushered to safety first. NOT for the reason that they were weak, but because they were more important. These ideals changed the world as we know it, and today they have been all but lost to the ever-turning pages of history. Often i ask myself, "is this the fault of men? slowly losing hold of their forefathers' ideals decade by decade until they see women as something more similar to objects than the precious souls that they are?" Perhaps connectivity and capitalism have a role to play in the downward spiral. I simply don't know.

Now i know what you're all thinking. "buuuut jaaaared, if you don't know the answer then who does??? answer: nobody. Luckily, it doesn't really matter where along the lines the entire ideals of romanticism fell apart. Chivalry is dying, and it will continue to do so. Sadly, There is nothing that can be done to stop it from its tragic fray. However, there are still a select few of us who can teach these ideals to at least some members of the younger generation, In a futile attempt to at least change the lives of someone.
Perhaps there are still some women out there who can respect being treated well, as opposed to complaining about courtesy and begging to become another face in the matrix of a cruel and competitive world. It just needs to be made known, that chivalry sets men and women apart. Not to belittle the opposite sex, but to admire it. I believe that true gentlemen have a higher respect for women than most men who see them as equal. It's a wretched misunderstanding by the extremists of the feminist party, who see it as another group of men trying to put women down. When, In all reality, it is the exact opposite.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentines Day: A Brief History

Valentine's Day. If you are looking for another holiday that has such a love/hate/really hate relationship with its celebrators, You won't find it. And, Since you all know how much i love to shed a realistic view on the worlds hopelessly fallacious (read: wrong) views on national holidays, i've decided to give you all a very personal valentines day gift of wisdom.

A Brief History of St. Valentine: An Informative Account Through the Eyes of a Single Realist.

In 269 A.D. A Roman Catholic Priest by the name of Valentinus was banned from performing marriages to all younger couples by the roman emperor Claudius. Valentinus (known today as St. Valentine) defied all proper authorities and continued to marry younger couples "in the name of love" (obviously resulting in strike no. 1). In letting younger couples get married, the age limits on aforementioned marriages fell to disturbingly low standards, with couples as young as 12 participating in holy matrimony. (Why, Hello there strike no. 2) After performing many unlawful ceremonies, St. Valentine's fame began to rise uncontrollably, and he was eventually caught and imprisoned. While in Prison, St. Valentine (the hopeless romantic that he was) fell in love with the jailers Daughter, Resulting in an uncannily quick trial; (and a humorlarious strike no. 3). With The trial out of the way, (and the three strikes that obviously pushed it all WAY too far laughing on the sidelines), St. Valentine was called a degenerate, and then furiously stoned. When The bloody beating with large rocks was over, and the stones lifted off of his body, it became known that Valentinus had not yet died. So, he was horrifically beaten with clubs (yes, plural). However, Once again, St. valentine had proven to be quite the adversary when it came to being thrown a raging beating. He was then beheaded.

Let this be a lesson to corporate America and it's greed-driven advertisement propaganda.

Happy Valentine's Day