Your Harvard bound child

Staring into space for prolonged periods of time may seem unfortunate to you, but to some it’s a life-sustaining activity. Telltale sign things are really bad is if it happens during their kindergarten performance while everyone else is busy shakin’ it. Diagnosis: space cadet. While annoying in a kid, this quality can become downright irritable in an adult. Imagine being defended by an attorney who finds the wall behind your head infinitely more interesting than the brilliant way you murdered those people with poor listening skills? The mute staring at the judge/jury with a slight look of disgust that they showed up won’t help your case either.
Don’t worry things could be worse. You may end up with a know-it-all pessimist. This fellow acts like they’ve been there, done that and there’s nothing good waiting for them in the future. The sad part is they’re right. What other conclusion can they reach after staring at you all day? No point in sending out any Ivy League applications with an overwhelming sense of imminent rejection. After one too many “Why did you give birth to me?” questions, you’ll start to wonder that yourself. Then again, there’s nothing more fashionable than a toddler on suicide watch.
If you still don’t think you’ve got your hands full with your little Debbie Downer, prepare yourself for the marathon man. Don’t get any ideas about athletic abilities. If you’ve never been able to walk a few steps without losing your breath, chances are your kid is not going to be the next Olympic champion in track and field. There is reason to worry, contrary to what experts think. Running around the pre-school locker room slamming doors or down the street into oncoming traffic are not just a normal part of growing up. The underlying issue is obviously fruitless pursuit of an escape route.
Like Vanessa William’s man I saved the best for last. Split personality disorder can be both extremely entertaining as well as inappropriate. Your kid is shy at a party but the loudest creature in the room at the doctor’s office. You try your best to get him to make the switch only to be disappointed. I can state with 100% accuracy that as an adult he will be either loved or hated (depending on which personality is being employed at the time of acquaintance). The outgoing persona is usually accompanied by a sense of humor, while the recluse comes with all of the above.

PHD in pediatric psychoses with just enough expertise not to jump from the ledge

So You Think You Can __________?

We’ve all seen those poor souls trying to bust a move when there is obviously no bust to be made. They are blissfully unaware of the unwritten automatic disqualification for contestants who have no rhythm. I guess the laughing, pointing and eye-shielding doesn’t turn them on to the fact that the situation is hopeless. If it does, they don’t mind appearing as a victim of some unknown punishment. Add a lack of coordination and zero choreography to the mix and just see how quickly the dance floor parts for you dancing Moses. I have to admit though that it is a talent of sorts to be able to move at your own pace when it clearly differs from the harsh pounding beat of the music.
Another offense people are guilty of is singing when they are completely and utterly tone deaf or possess a voice timbre of any variation of “put me out of my misery”. Karaoke was thoughtfully designed for those with a combination of the two. There is still reason to be merry because no one will be able to tell if you actually know the melody to the song you’re singing since your tone deaf screech will put a unique spin on virtually anything.
There is always one comedian in the group who tries too hard. One surefire way to assess your sense of humor is to calculate how many people laugh, or at least slightly bend the corners of their mouths upward. If no such luck, then please refrain from further attempts. If is painful to watch and I personally go into a nervous guffaw just to feel more comfortable.
Coolness cannot be taught. You’re either born with this feature or you’re not. Forcing it by holding a cigarette in your hand the wrong way, speaking deliberately slow and low, and donning a leather jacket from the 80s will only bring about the belief that you’re slightly hot because you’re nowhere near cool.

Avatar

I liked the movie Avatar, even though I read that it’s racist and causes depression in enough people so that an Avatar anti-depression blog was established to help those in need. Man, that blog title badly misspelled Haiti. Why all the melancholy over the blue people living on Pandora? Because Pandora is so much better compared to the hand we Earthlings were dealt. I’ve examined the facts and it seems Pandora IS much better.
You can fly on dragons all day long. This is all well and good except that you need to use your blue scruples to tame them first. If you fail, the consequences are dire. This beautiful coming of age process for both men and women is Darwinism at its best. It weeds out the strong from the weak (or the extremely unlucky), which saves a lot of time and trouble later on (like when you’re in the mood to play hide and seek). “Did you tame your dragon yet? Well we can’t go berry picking together then”.
A big perk of living on Pandora is that you can talk to God directly face to face any time you fee like, because he’s a tree. Religious disagreements are out of the question and there’s no need to speculate. A child is born and asks: “Mommy, where’s God? Oh, he’s right there, never mind.”
I can certainly see why men are depressed after seeing this movie. On Pandora you can only chose one partner for life and it’s usually the first one you mate with. If that’s not what every man wants, I don’t know what is.
The thing that I especially like about being a Pandorian is the racial equality promoted by the fact that everyone’s the exact same shade of blue. Your wife looks identical to your neighbor’s wife, so if you’re not careful this may lead to a lot of misunderstandings. But I guess after you tamed your dragon you figure distinguishing blue from blue is a breeze.
You know who’s not prone to melancholy? James Cameron. He depressed the Titanic viewers so much that it nearly cracked his bank account. But his money eventually ran out and he decided to try his luck again. And a good decision it was.

La Cucaracha

Is anyone a big fan of roaches? I know I’m not. Even the name itself is repulsive. It’s borrowed from the Spanish word cucaracha but it may as well be derived from the verb “to encroach” or “take possession of and advance beyond the proper limits”, because that’s exactly what they’re doing. I’m assuming they get together at night to discuss the best encroachment strategy and all day long they’re slowly advancing and taking possession of my shit. I’m praying that their insolence doesn’t take them so far as to hold nightly meetings on my head while I sleep. Too bad they’re too dumb to realize that if they all march together they’d be able to cover me head to toe and post their roach flag on my ass. I can step on one-two max, but not five hundred. I guess they’re loners. So how does one protect himself from these scavengers? I believe that something a bit stronger than Combat is needed to annihilate a species unaffected by nuclear energy. Wow, they are really happy with their roach lives and determined to be here. They’ve even evolved into giant freaks of nature gently called water bugs. Should I be drinking Poland Spring (bear piss) or tap water (water roach piss)? All this time I mistakenly assumed that shrimp were the water roaches. We’ve been consuming the wrong crustacean people! The water bug(gers) induce a flight response in me worse than any predator. When I see one I scream and then stare at it in awe of its hideousness. Little does it know that I’m also mentally preparing to squash the “water” out of it and have only to decide which object to use for that purpose. If anyone’s wondering why I don’t step on it with my feet I will only say this: my foot is the size of the damn roach, that’s how big they are. I need to come at it with something HUGE! If I was able to lift my 50-inch TV set, I’d use that (it’s not working anyway). This reminds me of a great story to tell the kids at bedtime. One day as I was about to go to sleep, I noticed (by pure miraculous chance) that there is a huge brown spot on top of my windowsill. When the spot started moving it was the last straw. I almost jumped out of the window thinking that evolution has given those Thumbelinas wings (to increase their chances of survival, like in case they break a leg when the A-bomb drops) but realized that thankfully that wasn’t the case. I crouched behind the dresser anxiously awaiting its next move when it lazily toppled over the edge and fell to the floor, hitting my blanket on the way down with its poor aim. If you can’t imagine how disgusted, disgruntled, disappointed and downright deflated I was (check out the use of alliteration). I had the enemy by the balls so to speak, I was certain it was dead. Such stupidity on my part! It was alive and well and resting inside my soft cushy slipper (needless to say I’ve never worn those again and got into the habit of sticking a gloved hand inside all my shoes inspecting for potential pest resting places).

Having lost all hope I decided to contact the one man I knew able to massacre all the roaches in the apartment over a period of 2-3 weeks-my dad. He boasts how he single-handedly took out the whole damn colony just be being himself. When we moved into our first decrepit apartment, its senile residents were at such war against the astounding roach population, the situation eerily resembled the middle-east crisis. Both sides were attempting to kill the other off in an attempt to secure an ancient relic. The problem was at a standstill. Low and behold, in moves my dad, and in a Rambo-like turn of events achieves peace by completely slaughtering the enemy. I quote: “I’ve won the war by being determined and ruthless. I’ve drawn chalk in front of enemy lines and strategically placed combat at every foxhole. I’ve sprayed bug spray over the entire apartment leaving no stone unturned”. Basically I lived in a nuclear war zone as a teenager, inhaling anti-roach fumes all day. Our door should’ve had the “Warning: highly hazardous environment” sign on it. “The most effective method of all was to wake up in the middle of the night (with the sole purpose of roach destruction in mind), turn on the light and open fire (stomp away with slippers on both hands and feet), killing as many of them as I could at once! I did that a few times each night”. Now that’s what I call dedication! Wait those suckers out. Let the nocturnal deviants think they’re safely having a free for all in the kitchen and then BAM, in comes Stallone armed with women’s slippers. I almost feel sorry for the unsuspecting morons, may they all rest in peace.

Yogi’s wisdom

I usually steer clear of the buildings with signs like sports or clubs on the outside but sometimes my resolve is weakened after one too many slices of pizza. Such establishments may be cleverly disguised under people's names like Lucille or Jack, so get acquainted with all former or current fatsoes who could potentially open a facility in the future. Yoga is great except when the instructor talks too much about unrelated material. One woman decided to link the benefits of yoga practice to giving cheaper gifts to people. How do they relate? Well her clever mind came up with the following: “Why do we always feel bad when we give a gift that doesn’t cost as much as we think the person deserves?” Stop right there. She is putting a price tag on her relatives. “My family likes to do a grab bag and we have a limit on how much we can spend. I always buy a little something extra because I’m never satisfied with my gift to the ones I love”. That's probably because your gift stinks and you are bad at finding bargains. Besides, the ones you love told you to buy them something that costs 10 bucks because they don’t want you to spend more and those same loved ones will be spending 10 bucks on you. Why be the cause of their discomfort when you give them a more expensive present? I'd love to hear that gift exchange conversation. "Hello cousin Steve, I thought you are entitled to a little something extra". "Hello cousin, I thought you were pretty much worth the 10 dollars I spent, but thanks for overestimating me".

 “We shouldn’t do this. It’s the thought that counts”, she said. Well thank you Dalai Lama. My second grade teacher used to give us the same speech. Now I’m a bit older and tend to dislike clichés. Is this the sort of thing I have to listen to while attempting to meditate in an uncomfortable position? If you, oh great one, still do this after so many years of practice (and so many disappointing gifts) how do you expect a newbie to be any different? Get over here and adjust my pose. All of a sudden everyone is a philosopher. Now put on some Yanni and show us how flexible you are.

Don't even think of suing me

After many years of drinking from the half-empty glass, I am now going to perish from thirst because the glass is now completely depleted. On the bright side my dependence on coca-cola will hopefully subside. Coke (the drink) is the root of all evil. Since people don’t believe medical articles I will give a layman’s perspective on the dangers of this popular beverage. After drinking a can I feel like I’m about to burst and float away from all he accumulation within me and I can literally feel my stomach lining eroding while I type this. Since its color is brown I will only take an educated guess at the ingredients which make up this 9th world wonder. Most of it is gas, which becomes trapped and has nowhere to go so I tend to wobble a bit. The rest is sugar. No wonder I feel so hyper. Maybe if I was lighter I would actually fly off somewhere in a very excited state. If you are interested in living a long and healthy life, this drink must be banned. Experiments showed that it can melt bones in a dew days time. Your teeth can and will melt right off your gums just as you’re about to enter your dentist’s office. Don’t worry he will manage to find a cavity somewhere in your mouth anyway. If you’re a smoker disregard this message since you’re obviously not interested in a denture-free and healthy existence. Before Pepsi gets overly excited I would like to add it to “the list”. I’m assuming that it’s just as hazardous only with a bit more sugar added (in a feeble attempt to outdo its competitor). I took the Pepsi challenge and realized it tastes much worse than coke so the benefits are rapidly accumulating for this industry giant. This is my contribution to healthy living and a brand new you; however if you must rot, choose coke.

Feeling bitter?

I find the whole literary industry catering to the needs and wants of pregnant women a bit irritating. There are books titled: What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Who is this supposed to help? If anything this might potentially kill some hopes and dreams of people who have high expectations. For instance, if you were expecting an easy pregnancy, followed by a quick and painless delivery, an understanding husband (if your offspring was lucky enough to be legitimized before its conception by a couple of signatures and some public outbursts), and a happy, healthy baby who loves you no matter what then these books are definitely not for you. There is not a single chapter in any such book that is going to sound remotely positive for these hopefuls. Instead it’s going to talk about gas and how it’s on the rise, again. Why do pregnant women need a book telling them that they should expect to have severe bloating and vomiting? Can’t this be kept a surprise? The proud parents are not unlike the CIA. They already know the sex, the name and social security number of their placenta-dwelling baby and are thus fully equipped to steal their kid’s identity sometime in the future. Other animals don’t need this kind of information. They give birth like they do everything else, without even blinking an eye. But humans need confirmation that the morning sickness they suffer from has already been endured by countless others to be put at ease because nothing is worse then solitude in suffering. There are even books for husbands of expecting women telling them that their wives are going to act even worse then usual and to take it like a man. Didn’t these guys already take vows stating ‘for better or worse?’ Well worse is here so just take it; don’t buy a book to tell you to take it. It all comes down to this: Women are spoiled, selfish and just looking for excuses for their horrible behavior and reasons to extract more special treatment. Men are spoiled, selfish and just looking for excuses to get the hell out of the house when their wives are just being themselves.

My message to the women is: You are equipped with the internet, your mother, your mother-in-law, your friends, television, past knowledge and experience, and commons sense, there’s no need for any pregnancy and childcare-related books.

If these books do not cease to exist then I demand that someone write a book called What to Expect When You’re Not Expecting. Hey, if I’m not pregnant I need to know that whatever’s happening to my body at any given moment is normal. This someone needs to map out my daily burping schedule so it doesn’t come as a shock. At least when a pregnant woman throws up during her commute she has an excuse and a seat handy but what if that happens to a non-pregnant woman? She will be stabbed with daggers of hatred towards alcoholics and excommunicated from the cart, forcing her to take an earlier/later train. This is quite an inconvenience when it comes to morning travel for work. It seems that I am in a constant quest to even out the jagged views imposed by society. Hey, someone, if you can hear me, this is my official request for books for women who cannot hide behind the unborn.