Dear Overweight Woman with a Spiderweb Tattoo on your Shoulder and a Mermaid Body Tattoo on your Upper Thigh Wearing Revealing Clothing,

Dear Overweight Woman Wearing Revealing Clothing with a Spiderweb Tattoo on your Shoulder and a Mermaid Body Tattoo on your Upper Thigh,

Really? At some point in your life, you said to yourself: hey, my stubby body can barely contain its 200lb frame, why not accentuate that sexiness by adorning myself with the most unnecessary and meaningless body art that one could possibly get? Surely no one will notice the goo-like stretching of my tattoos caused by a combination of flab rolls and flop sweat!

Just a question: what sort of message were you going for? I mean, I guess the spiderweb tattoo on your shoulder might implicate that if a man were to actually touch you, he would invariably be stuck to your skin owing to the thin layer of sugar which must coat your epidermis, but the mermaid tattoo on your upper thigh? Just not getting it.

And another thing: why must people who have tattoos wear clothing that shows off said tattoo no matter where the tattoo is and what the weight of the person is? A tattoo on your inner-thigh? Surely one must wear ripped short-shorts. A tattoo slightly above your private area? Surely one must wear low-cut jeans. A tattoo inside your vagina? Surely one must affix a micro-camera inside said vagina that broadcasts over the air in HD. Yes, I get it, you have a tattoo. So do 50% of people aged 18-29. It's not special anymore. In fact, if you have spiderweb and mermaid body tattoos, it was never special to begin with.

Anyway, Overweight Woman with a Spiderweb Tattoo on your Shoulder and a Mermaid Body Tattoo on your Upper Thigh Wearing Revealing Clothing, you've obviously got your life planned out and who am I to criticize? You've made your decisions, stuck to them, then made more decisions, and for some inexplicable reason, stuck to those as well.

I wish you the best, and give me a call when you get your Asian lettering or Dolphin jumping over the sea tattoo. I'll be there for you.

Father Knows Best-ish

Every father has an olde tyme-y thing that they like. Something that their children find endearing, yet beguilingly dated. For my dad, it was Old Time Radio. If you're curious to know what that is, simply imagine a time when every single person in America sat down in front of their radio to listen to ripping yarns spun about superheroes, gritty cops and middle aged ex-vaudevillians emphasizing their punch-lines with puns that were dated in 1940.

It's a pretty endearing genre of entertainment, and I specifically remember every weekend taking a car trip with Dad where you literally couldn't speak because he wanted to listen to a cassette tape of "The Shadow". Now this wasn't a "hey, shut up" type of "couldn't speak", it was a car full of 5 people (3 kids, a mom and a dad) sitting in abject silence; hanging on the every word of this completely antiquated, almost cringe-worthy form of entertainment...and you know what? I loved every minute of it.

How can you not look back fondly at things your dad loved? Does it really matter what it actually might have been? I mean, seriously, if my dad had a hankerin' for watching Hitler's famous Reichstag speech in December of 1941...I would fucking love Hitler's famous Reichstag speech in December of 1941. Why? Because my dad's...my dad. Admit it: there was something your father loved that other people might consider odd or dated, but you consider the jewel of your childhood.

I look back on this because I might potentially at some point maybe be a father in the extraordinarily distant future. I had a meta moment the other day while watching Channel 4's delicious 1990s sitcom "Father Ted" (brought to you by the same folks as "The IT Crowd"). There was a shoddy set which was shot crappy video, peppered with what one might call "dated 90s references". Yes, one day I will watch shows like that, shows like "The Young Ones", "Blackadder", and "Fawlty Towers" in front of my children. They will watch, mouth potentially agape, and realize that their daddy is into really old stuff that no one watches or even talks about anymore.

I mean, those aforementioned shows are dated in 2010...what are my love-children going to think in whatever year it will be when I actually have children (I'm bargaining on the 22nd century)? I hope they look at it with the same reverence that I looked at my Dad's Olde Time Radio. I'll be their dad, after all.

Watch S03E01 Are You Right There, Father Ted? in Comedy  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

I Write Like...

I have no idea how this site actually works or if it's even accurate in the slightest; but I'll take this assessment of my writing style as either a huge compliment or a bitter confirmation of my suicidal tendencies. Either way, I'll be up cryin' tonight!

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Guy Who Urinated In Jars and Left Them In His Room

I had a roommate once who stored several huge bottles of urine in 2 gallon jugs of Poland Spring around his room.

He didn't think we knew, but we all did. One time I dared the boyfriend of another roommate to open a bottle and smell it. He did, and based on his reaction...it definitely was piss.

Yes, I do mean BOTTLES. The guy had no bed in his room, just a mattress, several indie rawk show fliers strewn around the floor, 4 empty bottles of Jack Daniels and about 30 huge bottles of piss. He was 27 and lived with 4 20-21 year olds.

We postulated that he perhaps needed it for some sort of drug test; but he was a bouncer, so that didn't really make sense.

Anyway, I never did find out much about him after I escaped the Kafka-esque nightmare that was that apartment. He recently added me on facebook and told me he lives in an "Artist's Loft" in Downtown LA, which is code for a commune filled with a group of broke-ass losers.

Here's the first page of a sketch I wrote about him in college:

INT. SMALL BEDROOM-NIGHT
Girl (23) sits, folding clothes. A Boy (24) stands, unpacking. Small room with a bunk bed.

GIRL
I'm so glad that you're normal, you know.
It's just so hard to find a good roommate.

BOY
Yeah. I totally understand.
I'm the good roommate. (note catchphrase)

He takes some money from her wallet without her noticing.

BOY (CONT’D)
Now let's turn off those lights and get some sleep.

He hops up on the bunk bed. Lights flick off.

Sounds of urination

Girl flips light on.

GIRL

What are you doing?

Boy is filling up a water bottle with his own urine.

BOY
Nothing. I'm certainly not filling up this
2 liter bottle with my own waste.
Now flip off that light, I need to get some sleep.

She flicks the light off.

Masturbation sounds.

BOY (CONT’D)
That’s right, bitch, suck it.

Girl flips light on again.

Boy throws copy of JUGS up in the air.

GIRL
What the hell is going on up there? Are you masturbating?

BOY
No. I'm just slapping my cheeks together.

He turns light off.

Girl SCREAMS!

Lights flipped on. He's mounting her.

GIRL
Now you're having sex with me!

BOY
No I'm not! What the hell's your problem?
I'm the good roommate.

Ahhh...Memories...the thing the brain does to fool us into believing we've accomplished something and done interesting things in our lives.