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Archives: May 2007

At least I don’t have Grover’s disease

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
I turned 28 in early May. That’s quite a milestone for someone whose doctors predicted he would die of alcohol poisoning by the age of 15, then 19, then 21, and recently, age 27. Take that, skilled medical professionals who pumped my stomach!

Also, a big thank you to the brewers of Pabst for all your letters of concern. My premature death hasn’t ruined the reputation of your company yet, though I hold no promises for the future.

In honor of my birthday last month, a “friend” who I’m court-ordered to visit every week recommended that I spend a day noting my accomplishments in life. Where am I, how far have I come, and how has my life changed? It was just ten years ago that I was 18, living in a cramped dorm room and eating chicken nugget TV dinners. Now I’m 28, living in a cramped studio apartment, and . . . eating a chicken nugget TV dinner. But now the nuggets dinner has mac & cheese instead of peas, which is an improvement. I didn’t . . . um . . . I didn’t find the peas . . . appealing.

Shit.

A few thoughts about underwear

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
When it comes to underwear shopping, I’ve never put much thought into it. I’ve never found a need to think about pieces of clothing that cost $5 for a three-pack. This is in contrast to women, who have been known to spend $20 even for one pair of bargain bin Victoria’s Secret panties that are a size too big for them.

This is not an obscure difference between the sexes. Any man who finds it shocking that a woman would get up at the crack of dawn to search through bins of ugly panties at a spring sale is either involuntarily celibate or old enough where his wife has switched to diapers. Lady undies and man undies are from entirely different planets.

How do we know Jesus wasn’t a fatty?

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
There are lots of made-up facts about Jesus (or as my Mexican friends here in California call him, Senor Jesus). When religious experts and historians created the modern image of Jesus, they made a lot of assumptions. For all we know, the ancient accounts they referenced may have been written by jerks. None of us really know anything definite about Jesus.

For instance, what did Jesus smell like? Did he ever wear his hair in pigtails? Since they didn’t have nail clippers, did he have long, creepy fingernails? Was he allergic to latex? What was his opinion on the separation of Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff? None of these questions will ever truly be answered.

Which leads me to ask yet another important question: What if Jesus was a fatty?

I wrote Avril Lavigne’s latest album

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
The title of this column isn’t truthful, but I’d like people to spread word that it is. Why? Because I’m bored with my daily life, and this seems like a really fun piece of crap to unload on people. You see, I need filthy, filthy lies. My life is dull, and pretending I do something with it is easier than actually doing something.

Also, I think pretending to be an Avril Lavigne songwriter will help me get dates with women who are way too attractive for me.

Like most people, an average day in my life consists of working, eating an entire jar of peanut butter for no reason, and then passing out on the floor. This process repeats itself every day, five days a week. Don’t I deserve to pretend that I wrote Avril Lavigne’s latest album? Reader, I think you owe it to me to betray the trust of your friends and loved ones with my selfish and possibly litigious claim.

More candidates to frighten the south in 2008, please

Note: I’m a columnist for the Reader Weekly, an alt-weekly newspaper in Duluth, MN. Every Monday I post a new column.

 
Call me crazy, but I was a little disappointed that the Democrats didn’t have a transsexual candidate in their debate last week. They had Hilary Clinton the female candidate, Barack Obama the African-American candidate, and Mike Gravel the Alzheimer’s patient with a shouting problem candidate, so I naturally assumed they’d fill out the remaining spots with other unorthodox politicians.

Don’t you wish you had watched the debate, so you would have understood that Mike Gravel joke I just told, reader? You would have laughed quite heartily.