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Archives: May 2014

750 pieces of advice for new graduates

It’s been seven long years of undergraduate studies, and your parents are finally forcing you to graduate. The real world contains no real jobs, so you’re doing your best to stay in the collegiate womb. “Prostitution is on the upswing amongst new graduates, dad. Can’t I stay in school and take creative writing and athletics coaching courses for one more year?” The charade is all for not. You’ve accumulated $4.7 billion in personal student loan debt. It’s time to spend the rest of your life working it off. Welcome to America and its modern form of slavery.

Perhaps you’d like some tips? I don’t actually have 750 of them, but I’ve seen a lot of articles offering 10 or even 24 tips for new graduates, so I figured 750 tips would impress the hell out of people. There’s your first tip: Lie about everything. You have no skills or experience. Our public school system has left you dumb and underqualified. Our society has left you selfish and unreasonably horny. Your only chance to be successful in life is to lie about everything that makes you a person. Stop playing by the rules! The 2014 workplace is a Thunderdome.

Here are some other upbeat tips that won’t depress you:

Bipolar OCD craps

Monday
Roll the dice. Six. Not a good number. Since it’s even, I’ll go to work today. One: The dog crapped on the floor while I was in the shower. Two: The dog also has diarrhea. Three: I’m late to work from cleaning up this trail of horror leading to his hiding place under the coffee table. Four: I have 107 e-mails in my work inbox. I have zero in my personal inbox. Five: There’s only one restroom at work and someone’s been in there for an hour. I’m tempted to just do what my dog did, but Minnesotans are too polite to relieve themselves in front of crowds. Six: The dog went to the bathroom in his crate and slipped and fell in it, or at least I hope that’s how it happened. Seven: He then bit me when I tried to give him a bath. Off by one, dice. Not too shabby, dice.

Tuesday
Roll the dice. Four. Since it’s even again, I guess I’ll got to work. Again. One: A production assistant I used to work with, and hate with a feverish passion, just got a job as a TV writer. That ups the count of professional TV writers who dislike me to 743, while the number who think I’m a swell guy remains at a steady zero. Two: Forgot to put on deodorant this morning. Since I’m broke, I’ll wait until someone notices and mocks me for it before I pay $7 at the gas station for some. Three: Boss still hasn’t done my “annual” review. It’s nearly 10 months late. I could have become impregnated, birthed the baby and also taken it to Sears and had its portrait taken by now. I do not bring this up to him because I’m Minnesotan and we’re bred to be very polite doormats. Four: There was no four. Hmm. Usually when I’m one short, I count Blink 182 still being a band as the extra one. They probably wrote another song today.

Girl drink drunk

Well hello there, Sutter Home Pink Moscato “wine”. I see you there on the corner of my work desk, looking all pink and feminine. I see you every day, but never taken the time to say hello. To be honest, I always thought of you as a bit of a joke. But there’s something different about you today.

You’re not normally my type, as I’m a grown man with dignity and self respect. But it’s 95 degrees outside and the air conditioning at work is broken. Small beads of condensation are running down your classy plastic bottle. Your cap is pink and unopened by any other man.

Pardon the old cliched pickup line, but is it hot in here, or is it just you?

Please hire more ugly people

The local toy store is a sacred place. Change must happen slowly, because grown men who collect toys are a particular bunch. They’re obsessive. Once you get them in a comfortable routine, any altering of that routine is like taking away their security blanket. Even the slightest change in the store’s atmosphere might scare them away to another store. One must be careful with such things.

“Grown men? But toy stores are for children!” you say. Nonsense. What do children do? Wander around and not buy things, that’s what. Once every few months their parents buy them something, and the store owner earns $7. Big whoop. Grown men who collect toys buy entire cases of figures! They sometimes pay hundreds of dollars for a single toy. They’re the deep pockets that keep toy stores alive.

Catering to these weird adults not only serves a financial purpose, but a community service as well. Without the creative outlet of collectible toys, these people would have to get their freak on through socially unacceptable methods like huffing paint, stabbing homeless people or finding dates through Tinder.

I should know. I’m one of them. I almost stabbed a random person the other day, just to see what it feels like. But I couldn’t, because my local toy store was releasing the tenth colorway of a “rare” toy and I didn’t want to be late for the store opening. It’s in yellow this time! Yellow! Super limited, just like the other nine versions!