Halloween Costumes That Should Be Retired / Punishable By Death

What makes consistent blog writing so difficult is trying to come up with interesting things to write about. And when you get to the point where your Monday – Friday schedule consists mostly of sleeping and searching for Ralph Nader biographies on Dailymotion (because youtube has the good ones all blocked), you’ll find that you don’t have much of anything to contribute to the world.

That’s pretty much what has happened to me in the last week only replace the words “sleeping” with “beer comas” and “Ralph Nader” with simply “Sinbad.”

My lack of being able to find out anything interesting about the world has reached a pretty low point. How low? I just spent about an hour on WaldoPedia. No, not Eddie Winslow’s slow witted yet good natured friend that we all remember from TGIF original and NAACP Image Award-Winning* Family Matters. I'm talking about that little striped-out, jean wearing homo that we all spent countless hours trying to finger out of various crowds. Crowds that made up some of the most fucked up societies I’ve ever seen. (Enlarge the picture on the right and take a look at what’s going on to get a good idea of what I’m talking about. You have about half the people keeling over, old men having their canes stolen away, and a goofy red and white clad tourist who thinks of this as a vacation and avoids these horrors by inconspicuously blending into the crowd.)

*I'm assuming.

The point is, I’m a 22 year old college graduate. There is absolutely no good excuse for me indulging in anything that even remotely resembles the Where’s Waldo experience. I’m way too old for that and Lost in Translation is pretty much the same thing only with 90% more Bill Murray. So what the fuck am I doing?

It’s times like these where I have to really search for motivation. Usually, I go to Google and do searches like “Justin+beiber+small pox” and see what the internet throws back at me, but that wasn’t doing it for me today. However, inspiration finally struck when I looked at the calendar hanging in my office. After having a co-worker explain to me what these were used for, I took a look to see if there was any interesting dates coming up. And boy was there! Halloween!

Upon being reminded of this, I was instantly filled with wicked delight for this mischievous holiday. However it didn’t take me long before I realized the constant downside to All Hallow's Eve: annoying Halloween costumes.

So here we go. My boredom at work combined with my neurotic hatred for most of society has led me to present you viewers in Blogland with this inclusive AND exclusive (double for your buck!) list of Halloween Costumes That Need To Be Retired or Are Just Really Stupid.

1.) Audrey Hepburn
God I had to get this one out of the way. Listen ladies, there is no faster way to get me to hate you than by dressing up as this chain smoking artifact from the 1950s.

This is a costume exclusively worn by ugly art students who want you to know how much more sophisticated their film taste is than yours. Only these girls don’t know the difference between “sophisticated” and “old stuff that was shot in black and white.”

What separates this one from the rest is no matter how many times we've all seen girls with daddy issues sporting this costume, any girl who's wearing it will insist it was there own original idea. And maybe up to 20% of them have actually seen an Audrey Hepburn movie. I’m not saying Ms. Hepburn wasn’t a big star for her time, but if you’re still watching her movies and being entertained by them you need to finally upgrade from projector to DVD player and pop in a copy of The House Bunny to see a true quality example of women in cinema.

Oh and by the way, Audrey Hepburn is dead. Way to be a buzzkill on Halloween ladies.

2.) The Joker

If you haven’t seen the The Dark Knight, please return back to the harvest as I’m sure all the other communists are wondering where you have gone. For those who stayed, this should come as no surprise. The excess of Joker costumes were bad enough back when this movie came out, and it’s gotten more cliché and lame as the years have gone on. Almost to the point where it’s now cliché to hate Joker costumes. Nonetheless if you think of going as the Joker for this Halloween, I’m sure you’ll be getting a phone call from 2008 asking for their unoriginality back.








3.) The Ghostbusters

Muslims forbid drawings of Muhammad, so why should America allow four vagrant college pussies who don’t even know what a Proton Pack is taint the sacred image of Peter, Raymond, Egon and Ernie Hudson? I would embellish this paragraph had that previous sentence not been the best point made by anybody ever.










4.) Sexy Spongebob Square Pants

None of my friends are registered sex offenders so I’m not aware of anyone who is actually going to go as this, but it’s something my friend told me about that sent chills down my spine. There’s just nothing right about this. I accept and embrace the slutty appeal of Halloween but this is just taking it to uncomfortable lengths. And even if you’re a costume designer who insists on being a closet pedophile by trying to tailor a “sexy” version of a children’s cartoon character, I still don’t think Spongebob is the way to go. You might be able to emphasize the sexiness more if you made the costume of a character that isn’t an anthropomorphic male toiletry.





5.) Puns / Play On Words

You have no idea how badly this irritates me. Halloween is about mischievous thrills and wild inhibitions, not a forum for your stupid ass to display how clever you are with the English language.

The worst example of this happened two years ago at one of my fraternity’s Halloween parties. Some willy wonka was walking around our basement with a CD-R tied around his neck, and a lighter in his hand. After asking him what he was supposed to be, he replied “I’m a CD burner.”

Too bad Mass. State Law has adopted very strict “don’t set people on fire” policies because I would’ve set ablaze to not only the remainder of that blank disc but the idiot that it was attached to.



So there you have it. This October 31, try not to embarrass yourself by wearing one of these types of costumes. We'll be doing enough of embarrassing things through our actions without you having to thrive off of other people's outdated stupid costume ideas. Be safe, have fun, and don't dress up like a queer.


-Andrew G / Geno

Gotta Steal to Eat, Gotta Eat to Live

Within 24 hours I’ll be in possession of an M.I.T. identification card that’ll have a picture of my face on it. If that isn’t the coolest thing you have ever heard of, please hit the “Back” button on your internet browser and stop pretending to take further interest in my life by reading anymore of this blog. Because if you think that, you clearly don’t matter to me.

Now some of you might be thinking “But Andrew G. / Geno, you never went to M.I..T.! You received your bachelor’s degree from Emerson College, and never pursued a post-undergraduate education! Saying you have an M.I.T. ID is misleading to those not familiar with your educational background!”

Yup.

Seriously though, it’s my first day at my new job -- my fourth total since I’ve graduated -- at the M.I.T. Graduate / Transfer Admissions office and I can tell it’s going to be a sick gig. I practically have my own office, a MacBook Pro all to myself, and -- as you can see -- the freedom to be silly instead of productive when there’s no work to do, and that brings me back to this blog.

A lot has changed since my last blog post. I’ve been prostituting myself to the workforce with various temp jobs, moved in with JC, and hopefully did that gay learning and growing as a person thing that everyone keeps talking about.

Happy about this new job though. After experiencing the superficial prison that was CORT Furniture, and the crazy person’s lucid dream* that was Bernette Research, it’s real nice to be involved in an environment such as M.I.T. Feels like I’m actually in a place that’s positively contributing to the world, rather than leeching off of it. Which of course, makes working a lot more fun and enjoyable.

*descriptive phrase stolen from Zack Lonberg, but still appropriate nonetheless.

I have plenty of things to write about for future blogging sessions, which I promise will become a regular thing once again now that I’m in a working environment that will allow me to do so. For now though, here are some random thoughts.


Random Thoughts:

-Fun weekend as numerous friends from home came up for a few days. Went with Langone and Australian Beth to Top of the Hub and had fancy martinis. Felt like Beantown gods. Although the elevator ride was really fast and it took awhile for my ears to pop. But other than that, GODS.

-Speaking of home, nice to have Matt G. also livin' the big city life as he studies the Litigating Arts at Boston College.

-Very pumped to hear that Noonan picked up Lewis Black tickets for this Friday at Northeastern. Me and Matt G’s run-in with the comedian outside the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom is one of my only memorable celebrity encounters, which I am admittedly very short on.

-I was very close to a nicotine relapse as my cigar intake over the last few weeks had been high. Still cigarette-free for over a year now, but my body had a seemingly found a loophole. So I’m cutting all of that as well. No more cheating.

-Ugh. Weezer. Tried really, really, REALLY hard to like their new album Hurley but just couldn’t get passed River Cuomo’s retardedness. Ugh. Blue is still to this day the greatest rock album ever made by anybody, but it's unfortunate to see Weezer fade away like they have been doing lately.

-The lyrics “Gotta steal to eat / Gotta eat to live / Otherwise we’d get along” kinda sound like a Tupac song but it’s actually from Aladdin. So does "One jump ahead of the lawmen"

-Fagan.

-Here’s wishing my brother’s friend Joe Gawlak a speedy recovery and hopefully he’ll back to his bouncin’ self once his tibia AND fibula are 100%


To the two or three people that have supported this blog throughout its hiatus, I thank you, and I plan to write tons more in the coming weeks.

Until the next time kids.

-Andrew G. / Geno

Daddy's Home

Hi world. Yes, yes I know, it's been a while. Things have been up, down, and all around for me these past few weeks but I'm happy to say that everything is starting to look a little better for me right now, and I'm super pumped about some new opportunities that are coming my way. Most importantly though, I realized that I need to keep on writing if I actually want to continue feeling like a real person. I was watching the Hot Chick the other day and felt the same way most people feel when they watch that movie: "I need to start doing something more with my life." In fact I think that exact line appears on the back of the DVD case from some movie reviewer. So I'm going to continue to write. Hopefully it'll all be funny, but I'm gonna post really whatever comes to my mind and maybe, just maybe, one of you will want to hook up with me for being such a linguistic.

If that last sentence made any sense to you, good for you.

Ah yes, the good news. I have two bits of good news.

1.) I am officially now a professional writer.
2.) Hell yeah!

I have been in contact with this place called Gramify for the past few weeks now. Gramify is a company that specializes in humorous over-the-phone greeting cards using licensed cartoon characters. For example, you may get a phone call from Homer Simpson wishing you a happy birthday in a comedic way. I found this company on Emerson's ehire website, where they said they were in need for comedy writers to write these greeting-card scripts, so of course I applied.

After speaking with the very friendly VP of Licensing, Helen, she said that they were in need of greeting card scripts using characters from this show called Domo. You may remember the word "domo" from part of the chorus of heart-pounding Styx classic "Mr. Robotto." Or if you're a know-it-all dick, from the Japanese saying of "thank you." However, you have probably never heard of the TV series, and neither did I until I started working with Gramify.

Domo is this series of short stop-motion animated cartoons that are about the misadventures of this weird, blob-shaped non-speaking alien thing. I don't know, he's some kind of foreign creature. With the assistance of his friends Tashanna (a spunky female squirrel) and Mr. Usagi (a very proper, monacle wearing, middle aged rabbit) Domo finds himself getting into ALL SORTS OF TROUBLE. Oh, and here's the best part: Hilarity ensues.

So I emmersed myself into this cartoon series and at first wanted to describe it as "weird" and "abnormal" but then realized that those words don't even begin to describe what goes on in this show. Domo makes Monty Python look like CSI. It's a really, really eccentric and offbeat cartoon that I'm surprised made it on Nick Jr's airwaves. However, the more and more I watched the more I found a method to the retarded madness.

Yet I still found myself with a tough challenge. I had to write a script that had to be delivered entirely audibly (meaning no action or visuals) with a character who didn't speak. It turned out to be a real, real fun challenge that's going to lead to fuckin' Domo and his stupid idiot friends to have a special place in my heart forever.

I just got off the phone with Gramify today and they want me to write AT LEAST two more by Monday morning. So unfortunately I need to stop writing for fun and start writing for money, brigning this blog post to an end. I just want to say thanks to all of my friends who have supported my decision to pursue a career in writing. Everyone's words of encouragement is endlessly appreciated. I'm only a good at a few things: restoring a N64 cartridge back to health by blowing into it, embarrassing myself in front of girls, music, and writing, and its nice to know that the people I care about are supporting me doing what I love to do.


Random Thoughts / Notes

-My roommate and good buddy Adam showed me this band called Northstar last night. I listened to it and I was almost angry at myself for not getting into them sooner as they embody almost everything I like about rock music. Check out this song by them called Between Horns and Halos

-Props to Casey D for sending this along to me: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/1c63d64d27/kieran-vollard-teaches-you-how-to-make-love. This information will not go unappreciated

-Once again, I hate girls. After about 5 days of not being in contact and with this one jezebel who I ignored the last time she tried to speak to me, she decides to send me a facebook message saying not to be in contact with her anymore. No problem, creepo. Not a lot of things are worse than someone who you think is awesome turning out to suck as a person.

-My main man Pat turns 23 at midnight tonight. Talks of strip clubs are happening but I am fearful of relapsing back into my old strip club addiction, which is a WHOLE OTHER blog post in and of itself.

-Speaking of relapse, Eminem's new stuff continues to disappoint one of the biggest Shady fans you'll ever meet. Recovery pales in comparison to anything he's ever done and now I think its actually worse than Encore. With such a strong comeback with Relapse, it's really confusing how Eminem was able to "relapse*" back into making sub par albums so fast.

*lolololol

Much love all around,
Andrew G. / Geno

Celtic Pride!

Tonight, we witness the attempt by one of the most storied NBA franchises and inspiration for one of the most underrated Judd Apatow movies to claim their eighteenth NBA championship and bring endless joy to the city of Boston. Though us Mass. natives may not express “joy” the same way you out-of-staters might. While the rest of the country may show your jubilation by singing songs, eating cake, and holding each other’s hands, Boston does things a little differently; more specifically, flipping over trucks and causing irreversible amounts of property damage. It may sound strange to rest of the pampered American society but I assure you that nothing says I LOVE MY CITY like setting it on fire.

And thus, I would like to take this time to run down the Celtics roster to those who are either non-basketball watchers or just think all black people look the same.

Paul Pierce

The Celtics team captain, Paul Pierce was bestowed the second coolest nickname from the guy with the first coolest nickname when Shaquille O’Neil dubbed him “The Truth.” Nevermind the fact that he’s been playing for Boston for over a decade nor the fact that he is consistently one of the highest-scorers on the team, Paul Pierce is the man for one reason: he got stabbed ELEVEN TIMES IN THE FACE* and had a beer bottle smashed over his head and not only survived, but didn’t miss a single game that season.

*Seriously, eleven times in the face. You would think even the most inexperienced stabber could hit vital vein or organ with that many attempts.



Glen Davis

Glen “Big Baby” Davis is a goddamn dinosaur. Seriously, the man was biochemically created from a the DNA they found in a fossilized misquito. It’s a true testament to Doc River’s coaching abilities that he was able to train Glen Davis to play a very solid defensive and offensive game and not just eat the basketball and all the players in front of him.



Kevin Garnett

Genius linguistics came up with the phrase “he’s such a G” just so that years later there could be a way to accurately describe Kevin Garnett. The acquisition, along with Ray Allen, that brought the Celtics franchise back to prominence, KG is the man on every level imaginable.









Rasheed Wallace

Rasheed Wallace is fucking insane. He’s also a a funny hat and couple of missing teeth away from legally being declared a Muppet (see right). A great defensive bench player and clutch 3pt hitter, Rasheed Wallace nevertheless ranks up their with “tall cliffs” and “dark alleys” in a list of “Things To Never Let Children Near.”






Annnd that’s all I feel like writing for now. See ya on the streets of Boston!

Git ir done,
-Andrew G / Geno

Challenge Unlocked: Real Life (Memorial Day, Things on the Horizion)

For those of you with less of a life than me, then you'd probably noticed that this has been the longest gap in time since I've showered America with laughs and good times in the form of a blog post. Does this temporary absence mean a resurgence to blog writing, with a brand-spanking new direction and updates being more and more frequent?

FUCK NO I'VE BEEN BUSY. Between graduating, watching my friends graduating, going to parties celebrating people graduating, and using poor grammar, I is finding my time to be more and more consumed with an abundance of mostly unproductive shit. Plus I'm an adult now. That's right. A martini drinking, time-share owning, Microsoft stock trading GROWN UP. Goodbye Justin Bieber hello Stone Phillips, Andrew G has finally made it to the big leagues, and things are about to get messy!

Memorial Day weekend I had my first paying job at Camp Harvard. During Alumni Reunion weekend, many of the well-to-do graduates of the ivy league institution bring their children along with them and need responsible caretakers to look after them while they get drunk from 8:30am to 12:30am. Unfortunately there's a national shortage of responsible caretakers these days and they had to settle with myself and a bunch of my friends from Springfield College, who in no way fit the description of "responsible caretakers".

I had to look after a seven year old named Andrew. I thought the fact that we had the same name would provide us with hours of entertainment, but this kid couldn't have been more uninterested that someone had the same name as him. This was the first indicator that I was dealing with a child who was way, way smarter than me.

As I'm putting this kid to bed, he asks me "Hey Andrew do you want something to read?"

"Sure" I replied, assuming it was going to be something like the Polar Express or something. Nope, he brings me back Point Blank by Anthony Horowitz. POINT fucking BLANK. This kid is seven. At seven, I didn't even know what an Anthony Horowitz was.

To make matters worse, his father and mother were both pastors, which I inferred as "the two poorest Harvard graduates." As the father goes to tip me, he reaches into his wallet and starts to pull out a bill. "Nah," he says "You deserve another one."

The guy gives me TWO five dollar bills. I wasn't sure what to be more angry about; the fact that he only gave me ten dollars or that he was actually debating whether or not to give me half that. Luckily the kid was probably the most well behaved kid I've ever met and he certainly didn't give me any trouble. So I wasn't really that upset.

Not to get the hopes up of the three people that probably read this thing, but I may have some very exciting news this Sunday. I know its been a while but fear not, I shall return.

AMERICA!

Andrew G. / Geno

Graduating College / Turning Up the Treble / Some Mo' Food Fo Thought

First of all big ups, BIG UPS, to Grandma and Grandpa Palmer for hookin me up with some sweet, sweet cash money for graduation.

Oh yeah, that's right. I graduated Emerson College on Monday. Aside from a select few people and some memories, I am so glad to be out of that traveling circus that calls itself an accredited college and never have to put up with its homojew-ness ever again.

Okay, fine. There were plenty of awesome times at Emerson College, which I'm sure are going to outlive the bad ones in my memory the older I get. But being at the ceremony made me realize that it was time to move on. For our ceremony, we get called up on to the stage and to accept our diplomas, while the rest of the audience watches on a big TV screen. About fucking half of my graduating class decided to take advantage of their increased visibility by either showboating, dancing like a faggot, or doing some other act of pathetic attention-seeking. What was supposed to be a way for our parents to see us close-up getting our diplomas became a forum for the Emerson closet-cases that still haven't gotten over their daddy issues to act like morons in front of his/her peers. And for that, thank fucking god I never to deal with those types of people again.

And yet, I'll miss it. However I feel about Emerson, it transformed me into the person I am today, and so there's no way I will ever regret attending it. I became friends with some awesome people who totally make up for the so many of the kids who I just can't stand. So thank you Emerson: You're still an asshole, but you made the man I am today. So suck it. Now that that's done, let's talk Ludlow. On Wednesday our friend Noah threw a Hawaiian theme party. Our friend wanted us to bring lays over, so what did we do? That's right. Buy a bag of Lays potato chips and pretend like that's what we thought he meant. Hey, I thought it was funny. So However Matt G and I decided to make some more fun on our own. We notice this FUCKIN' GUY sitting by a little DJ booth with this fancy little audio board (that's not the official term, I'm just a terrible audio major). He's playing the shittiest five songs over and over again. And he's sitting with like a thirteen year old girl on his lap clearly trying to get his D wet. Well we're not gonna let that happen are we?

This is has absolutely nothing to do with anything I mention in this blog, but if the internet and video games have taught me anything its that words aren't worth reading unless there are pictures present so here ya go.

So here's what we do. I go up to him and ask him to turn down the treble. Was the treble really too high? The fuck if I know*, but that's not the point. Then ten minutes later, Matt G. would go over and tell him turn it down. Repeat that process until he gets so annoyed he packs up his stuff and leaves. Success. Now we were able to start a limbo line and listen to REAL, quality, aesthetically appealing music like "Same Girl."

*Again, I'm a terrible audio major.

So yeah there we go. Still unemployed, but not giving up. Still working out and running. Lost? I'm excited for you're series finale but you still got some serious fucking explaining to do. And for everyone I care about at Emerson College who just received their diploma, congratulations.


One love,
Andrew G. / Geno

Good Stories

During my freshman of pledging, one of the senior brothers of SAE stated to us, "I live my life in pursuit of good stories."

Los Angeles was an amazing experience in terms of self-reflection and improvement, but I will admit that I didn't really come back with a plethora of hilarious, knee-slappin' anecdotes for all of you to listen, laugh, and learn from. While I'll never regret how I rebuilt myself in Los Angeles through a lot of time spent with Andrew Geanacopoulos, but it's the stories and memories involving the people I care about that make life so much more worth living. And since my return, I've been treated to a lot of good ones.

I don't have the endurance in my fingers to type out all of them, but I'm going to treat you with one of the better stories I've had from the past two weeks I've been back.

Alright, so its Saturday night and I headed to Springfield College for the night to visit Matt G. and company. There I run into my old friend Chris, who I've seen for the first time since coming back from LA and who I can without hesitation honestly dub "the fucking man." "Andrew G!" he states. "Alright, here's the deal, you pick out a girl, any girl, and I'll introduce you to her." Almost being more interested in seeing how well he could do this than wanting to hook up (almost), I scoped out the room as quick as I could and found a "lively" young woman whose mammory glands were bigger than some of the other girls there. "That one," I said, referring to said busty gal, whose tits were covered by a blue shirt. "HEY BLUE TITS!!" Chris yells with absolutely no shame at the top of his lungs to beckon her. "Come over here and meet Andrew G." Chris and I get right to the chase, and utitlize the most effective way to getting a big-booby blessed babe to show her your tits: Claim that they're totally fake.

My brother and Usher hang outside Springfield College, celebrating years of quality music and incidental pregnancies

"No they're not!" she said.

"Well prove it to Andrew G. He's a doctor"

For those of you wondering, no I have not received my doctorate degree nor have I ever taken study within any field of medical science. So I may not be the most qualified person to indicate whether tits are fake by feeling and looking at them, but that didn't stop BlueTits from letting me do just that.

So the party continues on, and now Chris and I are talking to one of BlueTits friends.

"So where do you guys go to college?" she finally asks
"Oh I go to Emerson," I replied,
"Wait, what do you study?"
"I'm a film major" Cause that's what I say when I don't feel like explaining what an audio major is.

It was at this point that you could literally see in this girls eyes her brain come to a screeching halt. She glared at me and squinted,

"So...you're not a doctor?" she asked, and then looked at me as if I just told her she was adopted and that her real parents were carnival workers.

"No, of course not." I replied, thinking she was kidding.

She turns away from Chris and I, and leaves. Then in the background, we very distinctly heard, "CATHY YOU JUST SHOWED YOU'RE TITS TO A FUCKING FILM MAJOR!"

I geuss I see her point. Going up to a man with a doctor's degree who realistically would have to be like 26 whose currently chugging Andre at an undergraduate dorm party, and having him confirm the legtimacy of your already too-much-exposed sweaterbags by letting him grope you, that's totally fine and helpful to the advancement of medical science.. But letting someone who's the same age as you and who gets to watch Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion in an academic setting*? You might as well sell your body on the street.

*Yes, that actually happened.

And there's my story.

Things are different right now. In a good way. My first weekend back was great but I was told by many people something that I really didn't want to hear, considering all of my supposed self-growth. And that was "Wow. It seems like you never left!"

While I certainly appreciate that compliment, I wanted to come back to Massachusetts a new man, and I started to worry that maybe I would go back to my old ways. But after last weekend, I could honestly tell something has changed. I can't put my finger on it or really describe it, but something about me has totally changed. And I'm really kinda pumped about it. These are new, scary times in our now college-free lives, and I'm certainly feeling the anxiety. But I can't help but have the feeling that good things are about to happening, and that if anything gets in the way, I know I'll be able to get over those obstacles.

I love you,
Andrew G. / Geno

Return to Boston / Big Bang Theory Is Still Terrible

After the longest flight from LA to Hartford you could possibly imagine, I am finally back on the east coast and just like that, every thing is back to normal. And I wouldn't have it any other way. also my absence from the west coast has forced me to change the name of blog. So here we go!

Had a great weekend crashing at E.Noonan's crib in Mission Hill, who has THE most comfortable couch in the world. I would compare it to a couch made entirely out of baby skin, but that image is far too horrifying to really get my point across, so forget I said anything.

As great as it is to be back, not everything is perfect and I think you all know what I'm talking about. On my flight home I had to take a layover to Chicago. On my first flight, I got to watch season 9 of Curb Your Enthusiasm, which some of you mortals may know as "god's gift to television." It was awesome. But then once I got on the next flight, I was treated to something far worse and far more evil, fucking The Big Bang Theory. I went from Curb Your Enthusiasm to The Big Bang Thoery. That's like going half-way through a blowjob and having your girlfriend be replaced with a cougar that's been training its whole life to chomp off your dick. With its mouth. It was a sick, tasteless joke that was played on me by United Airlines and I'll never forgive them for making we watch the sitcom equivalent of my sixth-grade science textbook only not even as funny as that.

In a previous blog post, I stated how The Big Bang Theory was less of a sitcom and more of a device created by sociopaths in order to make children cry. However, I left that post only half-completed, because even writing about the show was making me consult suicide hotlines. However, as I sit here before you, a new man with new experiences, I realize that if I don't truly let you know how terrible this show is, then...well I'm sure someone will mention it, but I'm going to do it anyway.

Allow me to break down the characters

Sheldon (played by Jim Parsons)

Sheldon is one of the two lead characters. Fuck Sheldon. All you want to do is put your fist through his face every time he speaks, moves, breathes, or exists. His mere being makes the world that less beautiful and could even drive Tony Robins to suicide. By even attempting to portray a sympathetic character, he has insulted you and your family.


Leonard (played by Johnny Galecki)

Someone has greatly misinformed John Galecki that he has comedic timing. Every time the writers copy and paste the bold face terms they find in their old middle school textbooks and try to pass them off as jokes, John Galecki is there to perform them, and he does so with such an air of misguided confidence that you might be tricked into thinking its funny. Unfortunately, there is not a witty bone in John Galecki's frail, lumpy monogloidy body to prevent you from shooting a gun at your TV every time he opens his mouth.

Howard (played by Simon Helberg)

I don't think that Howard was supposed to be a character on this show. No seriously. I honesty don't think that the actor Simon Helborg is supposed to have ANY written parts or even met with a casting director. He plays the character so awkwardly and is always so close to breaking character that I seriously think he's just some Los Angeles random who keeps sneaking into the Paramount studios and is able to get in front of the cameras without anybody noticing. When I was watching the show on the plane, I was literally waiting for the show to stop and CBS security to break in and escort this guy out the studios for being such an asshole.


Penny (played by Kaley Cuoco)

Look. The threat of overpopulation forced God to create things like Star Trek and Flight Simulator so that there would always be a certain sect of people who would have ZERO chance of ever reproducing in their lives. However His plan horribly, horribly backfired as nerds are awkwardly copulating like never before, making things like this stupid fucking show possible in the first place. And it is characters on TV like Penny that are perpetuating this atrocity to the miracle of birth. And let's face it, anybody who either currently or at one point in their lives had genitalia that operated correctly should never be finding anything in this show funny or entertaining.

Girls this hot don't hang out with people who only talk about PH levels and sedimentary rocks. They'll let them hold the doors open for them, weed their gardens, and maybe, if they are extremely lucky, acknowledge their existence.


Well I'm glad I got that off my chest. Good things that have nothing to do with shitty nerd shows are coming, and I'll be here to keep you update on them

One love,
Andrew G / Geno

Emerson / Los Angeles Retrospective Part 3

So here I am, my final day in the windy city, the Big Apple, the birthplace of basketball and the potato capitol of the world: Los Angeles, California.

In all seriousness, there are some things that words can't describe. And then there are some things that the words "words can't describe" can even describe. And I have to admit that this last four months have fallen into that category.

I don't even know where to begin. I guess first and foremost, I continued quitting cigarettes. You read about me reaching the six month mark in a previous post, so I'm super proud of myself for keeping that up and have just passed month seven. I think its safe to say I'm never going to smoke another cigarette for the rest my subsequently longer, cancer-free life.

A lot of times you go in to something with certain expectations and end up getting disappointed. In fact, for me that's been pretty much all the time. But then, there are certain times in your life where you desperately want something to go some way, and for whatever reason, maybe by the grace of God, you get exactly what you want. And I can say with amazingly no hesitation that what I wanted to accomplish during my Los Angeles stay has actually been achieved. Allow me to list

1.) Kick ass at internship

Not being an involved student by any means besides SAE, I had low expectations of what kind of internship I could get. Unlike all the other faggy Emerson Channel kids who signed away their social lives to a meaningless video club, I had been majoring in pounding PBR and making horrible decisions for the three and half years I had been in college.

Well thankfully, I kicked ass in my Comedy Writing For Television class at my teacher, Martie Cook (strong candidate for "Coolest Woman Alive") put me in contact with this girl named Amy at Film Roman who ended up getting me a job. And who also ended being the coolest most respectful supervisor I ever had.

Obviously, gallant men of iron-clad will such as myself don't cry, but I came very close to tearing up when I left. Amy and Dan treated me to a great lunch and then this high-up executive Carin (VP of Creative Development) took me for coffee and thanked me profusely for all the hard work I've done. When I got back they had all signed a card, which if I read aloud would even pull at the heart strings of a even grizzly bear.

So thank you Film Roman'ers if you guys are actually even reading this.

2.) Get Back In Shape.

Since coming to college I had seen my body deteriorate further and further and further. Thankfully I quit cigarettes, but I ended up gaining like thirty pounds in the following weeks. However now I back to the high 150's, lifting more than I've ever had in my life, and am running my fucking dick off. Best shape of my life? Oh yeah, for sure.

3.) Find myself.

Well that sorta brings us to this blog. As egotistical and gay the whole blog thing can be, I have had so much fun writing down my thoughts, and found it be very therapeutic. More so than that though I have had several of my friends actually read it and tell me in exactly these words: "comedy writing is your calling."

As obvious as it may sound, finding something that people think you're really good at is an amazing feeling. I am endlessly thankful for all the strong encouragement from all of you and has given me new found confidence when it comes to pursuing a potential career path.

I could write a 1000 page book on how much I have changed, but I'm going to leave it pretty simple. For some reason though I feel it nessecary to leave this retrospective series with some parting words of advice. Seing how numerical ordering has already been claimed by the first list, I'll labels these A, B, and C.*

*Also, A & B are words of advice given by Bret "The Hitman" Hart but they relate really well to my LA experience. But yeah 66% of my final words of wisdom have come from a professional wrestler. Deal with.

A.) In order to find yourself, give yourself up to loneliness.

Unfortunately, not a lot of partying happened during my LA stay. I was never really great friends with any one here. I would kinda bounce back between groups of people every weekend but I was never a part of any crew. However such a large amount of time to yourself is necessary for you to reassess your life. Being so far away from everyone I care about was indeed difficult but it truly made me realize how much I love all of them and how I'm the luckiest guy in the world for having all these great people in my life.

B.) Life is less about what you're going to learn and more about what you've had in yourself from the very beginning.

Pretty self explanatory. Look back at your life and try to find the things that always made you happy, and life's gonna be a lot easier after that.

C.) You'll be surprised how far a little trying will go, and absolutely amazed and how far a lot of trying will take you.

So often, we give up or don't do something because we're convinced we're not cut out for it. Thus, we close so many doors and cross of so many paths before we even get to see what they're like. I never though I would get a good internship. I never thought I would succeed at a good internship. I never thought I'd be running five miles a day again. I'd never thought I'd quit cigarettes. But all of those things have happened. As cliche as it may sound, self-determination is probably the strongest force in the entire universe. To sum it up in words we've heard since third grade "you can do anything you set your mind to."


For the longest time, I was a very unhappy kid. I thought I was doomed to a life of misery. But as I sit here looking back on how everything has turned out -- and it amazes me to say this -- I'm one of the luckiest people alive. I've taken a lot of things for granted back east and I'll never do that again. I am graduate of a very esteemed film school, have amazing friends, and I'm pretty sure I've found my calling.

Life is going to take all of us to very unexpected places, but -- and now things are going to get really gay -- as long as you follow your heart, things are going to turn out pretty well for you. It has for me.

And thus one of the most amazing chapters in my life has come to end. However a new one begins the second I set foot back on the east coast soil. Daddy's coming home!!!!

One love and until we meet again (and we will),

Andrew G. / Geno

Emerson / Los Angeles Retrospective Part 2

It was during my freshmen year I did something I never thought I would ever do: join a fraternity. That fraternity was Sigma Alpha Epsilon and joining it was one the greatest decisions I have ever made in my life. Yes, I'm aware that any of you who have been to some of our parties may find it unusual to see the words "SAE" and "great decisions" being used in the same sentence, but let me assure you that it truly was. Describing what SAE is like or what the appeal is, is pretty much impossible to do. I feels like its the most normal boys at Emerson College all coming together in order to act totally insane. SAE is like no other fraternity chapter you've ever actually hung around with, and probably the most like you'll see the movies, except without all the attractive topless chicks. You don't join SAE necessarily because you want to, you do it because you feel like it makes the most sense. Regardless of why I decided to join, Sigma Alpha Epsilon provided me with an amazingly strong and much needed foundation and there's no way in hell I would have ever stayed at Emerson College in the first two years there had I not been a brother of the greatest fraternity chapter in the world*. *A congratulations and possibly sex with me is in order for my former roommate, BFF, and SAE president Jon Ruest who has recently been recognized "Greek of The Year" by Emerson College, an award they give to the fraternity/sorority member who actually appears to maybe have his/her shit together. SAE is coming back and there's not a goddamn thing any of you pussies can do about it. Pussies. Sophomore year was the year of 49 Gardner and the infamous SAE house, of which I would visit almost every other day. Insane partying reached its absolute peak that year. Unfortunately all these good times at Boston were overshadowed by some very, very bad things happening back home. I'm not going to mention their names out of guilt and respect to them but it was at this time that my two best friends from home and I had completely decimated our relationships. I'll never actually reveal the details to the internet, but it was meaningful friendships that ended up being destroyed by drugs. It was the lowest point of my life. For the first time in a long while, I felt completely and utterly alone.

Top, related to article: SAE's offical emblem. Bottom, completely unrelated: Terror on the high seas

However I would soon meet two girls who would change my life, make me completely change my opinions on the female race, and fill the void left in my heart caused by trouble at home. Emily (who you remember for our awesome LA adventures) and CJ were two Northeastern girls I met when we were locked outside of 49 Gardner and all of our phones were dead who ended becoming two of the best friends I ever had. More importantly, they dug me out of my slump. For the longest time I felt the only times that people thought I was interesting or funny was when I was black-out drunk or stoned out of my gourd. Emily and CJ made me realize that sober Geno was not only just as much, but more interesting and funny than he could ever be under the influence. And for that, things finally started to look up.

That Christmas break, I would reunite with two friends who I had either let fall by the wayside after college or who I never really took the time to really get close to in high school. My brother Matt -- there's not a single kid who I owe more t in this world than him -- felt bad for what happened between my friends from home and told me that I should go over to our friend Pat's house, where Nick was hanging out. Pat and Nick were for the most part fairly good friends of mine who I would party with but that was essentially the extent of our relationships. However on that night, I ended up driving the two to iHop and they said something to me which truly touched me:

"Andrew, you don't hang out with us enough,"

Long story short, that is no longer the case anymore and now Nick and Pat, and eventually many many others from home have become amazing, amazing friends of mine and now coming home is something I greatly look forward to, rather than fear. And I owe it all to Nick, Pat, and my brother.

Things were slowly but very surely getting better for me. But there was a lot of other stuff I needed to do. I still hadn't found my calling, I was constantly stressed out, and I was smoking a pack and a half of cigarettes a day. Some serious changes still needed to be made.

And I'll talk about those changes, and finally about this whole LA thing in the next blog post!

One love,
Andrew G. / Geno

Emerson / Los Angeles Retrospective Part 1

I should let you all know that the following is going to take a more personal, serious tone than most of my blog posts, but still trying to be funny. Also I will be frequently using the literary device of metaphor throughout the blog post in order to convey certain senses of emotion, and during some of these instances you might feel it necessary to call me a total homo with a gay problem for being such a literary emo fuck. However this is a fate I'm willing to accept in order to get across the emotional roller coaster ride (metaphor #1) that was my experience at Emerson College. It was around junior year of college, I pretty much decided I wanted to go to school and study audio production? Did I have any experience at all when it comes to the technical or artistic process of sound recording? No. But I liked and

Artistic Rendering of Freshman Year (Not pictured: PBR, Parliament Cigarettes, Morally Casual Sex)

listening to writing music. So my reasoning was pretty much " Hey I like the Goo Goo Dolls, I should spend $100,000 trying to make a career out of it." However it turns out that basing a future off of "Iris" wasn't such a good idea, regardless of how good Dizzy Up the Girl was or how many times I would come home from high school parties and cry to it. Look, what I'm trying to say is I found out that audio production wasn't really my thing, as I will discuss in a later blog post.

After weighing my college choices, I finally decided on Emerson. Emerson was in my favorite city in the world, Boston, it was close to home, and had a world-renowned reputation. One of my favorite high school teachers, Mr. Rea (who taught English and who was once spotted rocking out at Bright Eyes concert), was -- besides being the fucking man -- the professor who helped me on my college essay and whose classroom many of my friends and I would hang out at after school was out while we waited for our respective sports practices to start. I remember getting my acceptance letter in the mail and then running back to school (which was a five minute walk from my house) and showing Mr. Rea my acceptance letter. Mr. Rea would run into my mom, a veteran employee in the Ludlow public school system herself, and said that moment was one of the greatest ever in his teaching career. Which is an awesome thing to hear. My college experience seemed to be off to a good start.

Or so I thought. After getting accepted I joined the "Emerson Class of 2010" Myspace group page. I would find out almost immediately that it was a place where pretentious future college students can start arguments with each other before they even met or were officially enrolled in the school they'd all be going to for the next four years. Remember how you could change your name in MySpace to something silly whenever you wanted? Well after seeing Clerks 2 my friend changed my MySpace name to "Porch Monkey 4 Life," a reference to the Kevin Smith sequel. This was all my new virtual Emerson classmates needed to believe that I was a flaming racist who was about to enter their school and they would have none of it. I actually received an e-mail from a kid who I had never met or even freind'ed on MySpace pointing out to me Emerson's deep ethnic-student population (which I would later realize to be a total lie) and that perhaps I should consider going to another school. Wow. So yeah my first interaction with Emerson kids resulted in them telling me to disenroll over the internet. This should have been the first indication that Emerson College was going to be a rough, rough start.

And I was right. It was a horrible start. A horrible, horrible start. It was kinda like Mario Kart where you hold down the "A" button too long before the green light at the beginning of the race and you spin and flutter out of control while the other drives scurry past you. And then you get bombarded with banana peels and turtle-less turtle shells. And just when you think that little rainbow box with the question mark on it is going to be the answer to all your problems it explodes in your face. And then you get thrown off the course and a weird yellow creature comes flying in on a cloud and has to fish you out with a traffic light and bring you back to where you started. Actually, my freshman year at Emerson College was exactly like Mario Kart.

So I slipped into a deep, deep depression, turned to cigarettes and drugs, and basically saw my life get about as dark as you can get without having to have a reality show about you. Fortunately, as is often the case when you hit rock bottom, the only direction to go from there is up. Which, thankfully is what started to happen the next year.

So join me tomorrow for part two where things get a lot less depressing! I'll talk about SAE, what was happening back home, and, here's the part you've all been waiting for, MORE!!

Until then, one love
Andrew G / Geno

College Girls claim bisexuality, Andrew G tells them to shut the fuck up.

Our nation's recent advancements in homosexual equality have made it not just socially acceptable, but trendy and hip to rub your genitals on whatever you can think of, with the only limits being your own imagination. This is great news for all you zoo-goers who can't help but keep noticing the emu that keeps eyeballing you from a distance, but I feel like this is hurting the gay-rights cause more than it is helping it.

I use the bestiality reference to make a point. America treats homosexuals as exotic animals, not as people, and we try to pass it off as accepting, social consciousness .Emerson College is one of, if not the single most gay-friendly campuses in America. Which is awesome, and I'm honestly proud to say that about my alma-mater. But you would think after all the exposure my fellow students and I have to the gay community, we'd be just a little desensitized to the whole thing. Nope. I feel like a student can't come out of the closet without fifty reporters bombarding him, flashing pictures, and shoving microphones in the poor kid's face demanding to know JUST what' its like to have another man's scrotum placed on your uvula.

Where did all this idol worship come from? I feel like it was only five year ago where the country was still run by ignorant, God fearing zealots who just couldn't even stand to fathom the idea of two men having sex without having to confess their sins to a priest. Sodomy went from blasphemous to cosmopolitan in a matter of years. When, in reality, it's neither. It's just another aspect of human life that we need to accept and then move on with our lives without making fools of ourselves by over-accepting them like THIS.

It goes back to when Lance Bass came out. Lance Bass made the "brave" declarative statement that he was in a fact a homosexual. I responded with "Great Lance Bass, can you sing that fucking Rocky & Bullwinkle song again? Thanks." Lance Bass went from "one of the three guys who wasn't Justin Timberlake in N'Sync" to relevant topic in the amount of seconds it took him to shout to the world that he loves penis. Because of our nation's new found love of alternative lifestyles, people like Lance Bass always made me suspicious of people who claim their gay just for the attention America is going to give them.

And I was right, but it's not just the people in the media. A multitude of college girls have taken their daddy issues to astronomically depressing heights by trying to trick us into believing their bisexual. You know what I'm talking about. Every now and then you'll go on to one of your female friend's Facebook pages and notice that she's interested in both "men" and "women." And when you ask her what happens she'll respond with something along the lines of "ooooh you know I just feel like humans aren't supposed to limit their sexuality to just ONE gender!" At first, you're happy for their new, if not stupid, outlook on life, but then you realize their experimentation with the same sex has never gone passed the point of saying she likes them on Facebook.

These girls obviously aren't bisexual. They're just emo girls pissed off at the way society made them so they're attempting to get back at all of us by trying to make us feel uncomfortable. They're the equivalent of bandwagon Red Sox fans only they still don't watch any of the games. Now that decades of persecution have gone by and we're actually starting to be accepting in society, let's just jump right in and say we love them too!

It's actually a smart idea. You get all the attention and social benefits of being a lesbian, but without having to go through the trouble of actually having sex with a woman. Congratulations girl, you found the loophole that allows you to be as far away from vagina as you possibly can and still get 10% off drinks at the Leather Jacket night club.

Perhaps it's just a step in the acceptance process of homosexual equality, but I really wish it would stop already. The more you think that someone's more socially enlightened just because they're gay, the more you are hurting the cause and preventing true equality from happening.

Overly Used / Obnoxious Types of Facebook Statuses, Part 2

Hey Earth people,

I thought I actually wasn't going to do it, but here is the second, shorter, and probably less funnier part of Obnoxious / Overly Used Facebook Statuses. Let's turn this mother out.

6.) Quoting For the Sake of Quoting:

A lot of people are against song lyrics and movie quotes as a hard and fast rule, but generally I actually don’t have a much a problem with it. Yes sometimes the lyrics are annoying and emo like “yeah you bleed just to know you're alive” but sometimes they’re lucid and intellectually stimulating such as “niggas gunna make me unleash the dragon”

What I have a problem with is when someone quotes a part of a movie or a song when they clearly have no idea what the lyrics/dialogue are about or why they were even written in the first place. These are the kids who desperately need you to know that they know more about a movie than just what it says on the back of the DVD cover. They’re the kind of kids who just to go to azlyrics.com and copy and paste whatever words look pretty to them. And yet whether it be film or song, they just end up looking far more ignorant about it than they would've from not even mentioning it in the first place. Example.

"I need you (I need you) More than anyone darlin' You know that I have from the start So build me up (Build me up) Buttercup Don't break my heart"

Out of all the songs that you clearly needed to go songmeanings.net and copy and paste from, I can’t believe you had trouble recalling any of the words from THIS song. Seriously, how does anyone who’s this old to use a computer without their parent’s permission not know the chorus to this fucking song without having to consult the internet for reference? The lyrics to Build Me Up Buttercup are used in fill-in-the-blank sections on U.S. Citenzship tests. They use it in SAT analogies. Every single elevator in the world comes with a copy of this song. Me and the rest of my class had to sing this song with our hand over our hearts in front of the American flag in third grade. Seriously, you desperately need expand your musical tastes right now because there’s thousands of others songs out there you could have chosen to describe your depressing life.



7.) Parading your Drug Use:

There’s a fine line between letting people know you like to have a good time and straight up cry for help. And these people have broken up that line with a razor blade and snorted it up their noses with a rolled up twenty dollar bill.

"is totally doing acid TODAY BWAHAHAHAHAHA time to trip sack"

Jesus dude. Jesus. Calm the fuck down. We’ve all been to high school and most of us to college so you’re not telling us anything we don’t see on a weekly basis. If you’re trying to impress with complete disregard to your physical health, at least have it be something more original than acid. Hell there are plenty combinations of energy drinks and table cleaner that’ll make you see some SERIOUS, life-altering shit.

8.) Complete and Utter Nonsense

Sometimes people write things that make me wonder if they had just accidentally smashed keys on their keyboard that coincidentally ended up forming words. And thus, trying to make any sense of these statuses is a one-way ticket to insanity, as I will demonstrate by trying to make sense of this:

"best jeep weather i can ask for in april."

What? What are you…WHAT?? Jeep weather?? How is that…I…WHAT??? What the fuck, no seriously what the fuck is “jeep weather??” What kind of climatic conditions must exist in order to make driving a Jeep more luxurious than driving ANY other type of car? Wouldn't good Jeep weather be good weather in general? And what does April have to do with any of this??? GAHHHHHHH*!!!

Ridiculous Pro Wrestling Characters Part 1: "The Lethal Weapon" Steve Blackman

Growing up in the 90's, the World Wrestling Federation provided me with many years of entertainment. Many insane years of absolutely ludicrous entertainment. The fact that I ended up going to a film school where we dissect and discus the aesthetic integrity of a text totally amazes even me after spending years of my life thinking cutting-egde television was watching Macho Man Randy Savage desperately trying to make just one coherent sentence in a ten minute promo.

Here at Emerson, I take a lot of classes in television writing and development. While its art and you can't really teach it, there are still quite a number of rules and guidelines you have to follow. Well I'm proud to say that the WWF completely shattered and broke every single one of these rules with each and every storyline and feud they ever scripted.

Yes, I know wrestling is fake. Did you really think after watching the Undertaker steal somebody’s soul I'm going to be wondering about that? No. No shit its fake. So is everything else we see on TV. All the terrible acting and nonsensical storylines are predetermined and scripted by the WWF creative team writers. And you could only be a WWF writer unless you were absolutely insane.

Some of the stuff they would write was so illogical, that it became an entirely new way of thinking. The people who came up with the storylines defied common sense so often and so hard that I became convinced that I was crazy for even questioning what was going on my TV screen.

This is going to be the first of many articles I’ll eventually post that deals with the most ridiculous wrestling characters of all time. Each one will have a character bio and my favorite moment. Enjoy the insanity!

"The Lethal Weapon" Steve Blackman

Steve Blackman combined the nunchuck twirling skills of a karate master with the personality of a struggling car salesman. After he got done twirling whatever martial arts weapon the WWF writers remembered from their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles comics, it was obvious that Steve Blackman had no idea why he was in a wrestling ring, or why there was someone across from him who wanted to attack him.

Whenever he had the opportunity to not just twirl his weapons and actually use them in a fight, it became clear that Steve Blackman's knowledge of martial arts weapons was limited to twirling and only that. He would literally just spin his weapons for about five minutes while the guy he was fighting would stagger around before he realized that actually hitting his opponents might be a more effective way of hurting them.

Favorite moment: Steve Blackman runs over Ken Shamrock with a car



Steve Blackman lacked so much charisma, he couldn't even make attempted vehicular homicide look interesting. If you're trying to kill a guy with a car, WHY WOULD YOU GO IN REVERSE? Seriously any one who has ever seen Chris Tucker, Will Smith or any crazy black guy action movie knows what kind of SERIOUS shit you can fuck up with your ride. And Steve Blackman chose probably the least efficient way humanly possible. My grandmother drives faster than that when she's NOT trying to kill somebody.

Also why did he get out of the car? If you had just attempted to kill someone, isn't a getaway part of the process? And wouldn't the car you WERE JUST IN be an ideal mode of getaway transportation? And why the fuck is he wearing a track uniform???? Seriously, I looked up the results of this particular show and not once could I find something that explained why a Samurai who’s supposed to have extensive knowledge of lethal weapons was not only trying to kill somebody with a Saturn, but doing it right before he ran a marathon.

Quick Explanation on Why True Blood Sucks

The melodrama. With True Blood, HBO executives have taken this genre that appeals to sexually depraved groups of easily entertained fruitcakes and put a more mature twist on it in order to appeal to a more pretentious sexually depraved group of easily entertained fruitcakes.

When I say "more mature twist" I mean killing characters and bringing them back to life with no explanation and randomly splicing in scenes of other people having sex. True Blood is softcore pornography badly disguised as coherent television. The basic formal for the show goes like this: INTRO - SEX - SOMETHING COMPLETELY UNRELATED TO INTRO - SEX - CONCLUSION THAT RESOLVES NOTHING - SEX - SEX.

The abundance of sex scene are there in order to appeal to a select group of people who believe that they can think vampires are cool yet still have any sort of sex life at the same time. Sorry nerds, but that's having your cake and eating that, the tray it came on, and the stripper inside too.

True Blood irresponsibly leads its viewers to believe that they are somehow sexually enlightened for watching such poor storytelling involving gay vampires. In reality, if you go up to a normal person and start talking about the mating patterns of vampires, wearwolves, and other things that don't exist, it's going to be a long, uphill battle to get them to even consider having sex with you.

This show also tries to trick their viewers into thinking they're watching something that's somehow socially conscious by trying to promote itself as an allegory for gay discrimination. But really, all they are doing is absentmindedly spewing off random references to homosexuality in order to legitimize their uninspired method of creating trash television. If any True Blood viewer can explain, without drooling on themselves, to me exactly how this show is a metaphor for specifically gay discrimination (and not any other type of minority/sect), please do so, but try to do it without a stake and garlic in your hand.

Yes, Sarah Palin Sucks But Lets Move On With Our Lives

Before I actually go on to write this, I must inform all of you that I'm absolutely 100% against the policies of Sarah Palin and do believe her to be one of the biggest jokes in the history of politics. Only I, unlike so many Americans, have decided to move on with my life.

I recently wrote this on my facebook:

Making fun Sarah Palin, as retarded as she may be, does not make you a political satirist. It just proves you watch the Daily Show. good job.

I decided to delete it because it goes against one of my own rules against Facebook statuses and I also don't like posting Facebook shit out of anger. But before I could, I received a painfully over-prepared statement from someone who completely missed my point and who I've met maybe three or four times in my life. He also clearly missed the phrase "as retarded as she may be" because I'm obviously one of Ms. Palin's strongest supporters.

"I mean, you do realize that the incredibly vacuous comments she makes time and again--not to mention the ridiculous shit she does publicly--these exist independently of the singular TV program you've cited which merely capitalizes on them. You know this, right? Like, when she had crib notes on her fucking hand at that rally... that was a uh, real thing that happened in American history. Pretty sure Jon Stewart didn't employ some unique super sleuthing to find the absurdity in that.

The bone-chilling reality that there are people actually stupid enough to fanatically endorse her, all because they mysteriously gobble up the trite, folksy rhetoric she spouts off... it does nothing for ya, huh? Doesn't like... blow your fucking mind or nothin'? Mmmm, Okay... okay.."

Clearly he has thought about this before, and has probably rehearsed it many times in front of the giant pile of meat he's dressed up as Sarah Palin in his basement lair. The fact that someone was so unhealthily angry to write out such a retarded smorgasbord of ellipses and poorly developed thoughts, and send it to a stranger, completely proves my point that America is far too obsessed with Sarah Palin, who in reality is of no real danger to our country anymore.

Sarah Palin lost (and by a VERY large margin) on the losing ticket in the presidential election. Sarah Palin has endured (and yes, deservedly so) more public ridicule than every single person who has ever auditioned for American Idol and Milli Vanilli combined. She has set the female race back further than Amy Fisher or My Little Pony ever could. Of course Sarah Palin is an idiot. Children know she's an idiot. The dogs that pull her people's sleds know she's an idiot. I was playing my Wii and right after the warning message that told me not to swallow the Wii Remote it said "Sarah Palin is an idiot." Even video games know that Sarah Palin is an idiot. So explain to me how someone who's such a universal punchline can be such a threat to our livelihoods?

There's one line in his email that proves Sarah Palin can't even go to the Dairy Queen without getting pointed and laughed at by millions of paranoid, women-fearing Americans:

Like, when she had crib notes on her fucking hand at that rally... that was a uh, real thing that happened in American history.

That's right America. A politician that had to give an important address in front of a large group of people ACTUALLY HAD THE AUDACITY TO PREPARE A LIST OF NOTES. What a no good Godless traitor of our country.

Let's move on to another idiotic thing he writes:

"The bone-chilling reality that there are people actually stupid enough to fanatically endorse her all because they mysteriously gobble up the trite, folksy rhetoric she spouts off"

What? Who? I've met a lot of strange people who I thought never existed. I've met people with six fingers on one hand, citizens of Delaware and people who like Coyote Ugly. But not once have I ever met a vocal supporter of the Alaskan governor and certainly not someone who I'd consider a "fanatic endorser." Start taking your Paxil again buddy, because your paranoia has led you to believe things that don't actually exist. No one takes Sarah Palin seriously and the fact that you are even sarcastically referring to her incoherent babble as "trite, folksy rhetoric" is giving her way more credit than she could ever deserve. That's like sarcastically referring to someone with Down's Syndrome trying to speak as "trite, folksy rhetoric." You just sound like a total dick in saying it.

Has it occurred to anyone that maybe all this ridicule against a woman in power may be in someways destructive to the progress of female equality? Every time you make another tired, worn out Sarah-Palin-is-stupid joke, you in turn just remind us how we're still holding women in power to ridiculously higher standards than men, which is insane because we came this close to ELECTING A WOMAN PRESIDENT. Sure you can blame Sarah Palin for her existence and the Republican party for their promotion of her existence, but I feel the blame also lies on everyone like this kid who has Sarah Palin penis-envy for preventing a woman from ever seeing the oval office for a very, very long time.

A Letter To Outlaw Certain Shirtless Dudes

What’s your first though seeing all of these pictures? That’s right: THIS SHOULD ALL BE ILLEGAL! Nowadays not only are more and more dudes who have upper bodies that should never see the light of day taking their shirts off, they’re doing it in the most inappropriate of public places. Something needs to be done about this.

I was outside last weekend grilling and these two (completely out of shape) dudes who were friends with my friends thought to themselves “you know what would be a good idea to do around all these slabs of meat and flame retardant chemicals?” “I know! Let’s TAKE OFF OUR SHIRTS and expose our semi-permeable skin to it! These two taken chicks and this one dude will LOVE it!” And they did. Not being confused about my sexuality, I left my t-shirt right where it belonged: on my body. Being the odd man out and needing a place to burst out laughing, I had to excuse myself.

Sometimes mentally handicapped people like those two dudes need the government to step in to prevent them from further embarrassing themselves and their community. This is why we have warning labels on hair dryers telling you not to use them in the shower. And this is also where I come in. The following is my official law proposal to the state of California that will hopefully outlaw these type of people from ever showing their naked flesh to you or your family. You’re welcome.

Dear California:

I am writing to you because of a disturbing trend I’ve noticed within your male community. More and more often I am noticing your kind removing their shirts in order for us to see their bare chests. The problem is I’d rather watch a marathon of cesarean sections than to ever have to put up with the site of their disgusting bodies. Cause let’s face it California, there are certain people out there who shouldn’t even take their shirts off to bathe. Before I get into how we punish these people, I’d like to take this time to list just exactly what type of people I’m referring to.

1.) People who think “skinny” means “in shape”
Some people don’t know whether they’re low body fat came as a result of hard exercise or a long struggling addiction to cocaine. So they figure they’re going to let the rest of the world figure it out for them by removing their clothes. And guess what, it’s usually the latter and never the former. If I wanted to see a sad tale of drug abuse, I would have just watched all of Robin William’s stand up again.
2.) Completely hairless creatures
These are the kind of people most likely to take off their shirts because they want to show off their lack of genetics. Way to rub it in all of our faces, dickhead. Just be aware all men with hair on their chest are just a bottle of Nair and a cigarette lighter away from being in the same position you freaks are in.
3.) Covered in tribal tattoos
Just because you grew up on a cul-de-sac but read a comic book that had someone of your heritage getting a tattoo of something, doesn't automatically mean you have to get that same meaningless shape sewed permanently into your body. Stop displaying your bad life mistakes to the world, as I have no interest in knowing about them.


Those are a just a few of the many different types of people who should be wearing long sleeve shirts and parkas all the time. But how do we deal with these types of people? Here’s my proposal:

Murder

Okay really here’s my proposal:

If you see someone showing you how malnourished they are via the process of shirt removal, and if they’re doing it in a public place that’s not a beach, you are within complete legal rights to throw whatever you want at them and call them a homo until they put it back on. Such items would include, but not be limited to pencils, tennis balls, paper airplanes, and throwing stars. If they still insist on displaying their hatred for exercise, you can graduate your weapons to bats, hockey sticks, and other blunt objects. Continue this process until they lose consciousness or exposed and disgusting torso is covered with a shirt.

So there ya go California, I hope you have been listening. Do this for the children of tomorrow who’d rather not to be exposed to the effects of heroine of the body. Most importantly, do it for yourself.

Sincerely rockin’
Andrew “Geno” Geanacopoulos

Vacation Time Part 3: Ferris Wheels = Certain Death / Powerhour! / Leftover Pics

Editors note:

Apparently, Emily has a "qualm" with some misinformation I posted. The song that she was afraid to play on the west coast wasn't "Juicy" but "Hypnotize." This totally makes the situation less ridiculous and I should be very ashamed of myself for journalistic embellishment.



Overcoming My Fears of the Ferris Wheel

Me: "Wow, that Ferris Wheel looks like its actually going pretty fast. Maybe we shouldn't go on it."
Emily: "..."
Jon: "..."

Alright, fine. I’ll admit it that even though the Ferris Wheel was going a little faster than usual, I’m sure whatever speed it was going didn’t signify immediate danger. But that’s not the point. I don’t know what sort of sadistic, backwater Siberian prison camp that Jon and Emily grew up on that made them completely numb to the emotion of fear, but not only were they unafraid of going on the Ferris Wheel, they were EXCITED to do so.

Not being the carefree, throw-caution-to-the-wind daredevils that my friends are, allow me to explain things to the rest of the real world. The Ferris Wheel is fucking scary. Unlike roller coasters where you ascend a certain height and from there on out you’re experiencing a fun family thrill ride of a life time, the Ferris Wheel is different. You’re just dangling who-knows how many feet in the air, taunting God and waiting for Him to unleash all sorts of divine whoop-ass on you and send you plummeting to your certain and inevitable death. And Jon and Emily had the gall to call these completely normal feelings of mine "paranoid."

However, Emily persuaded me to go on using the same method my mother would utilize to get me to do any chores, homework, college application, or apartment lease I ever had to complete: she promised to buy me ice cream (left, delicious).

Maybe because we were only going 1mph and maybe because we never ascended higher than the height of my old tree house, but it actually wasn’t that bad, and in fact maybe a little fun. I felt .8% more of a man that day for finally conquering my fears, and in a way I never felt more alive.

Though that didn’t stop me from bawling and crying the whole time we were on. Or for the five hours after we got off it.



Powerhour Returns / Some Dude from Gray's Anatomy

It had been over four months but on Easter Emily and I finally awoke our old partying lifestyles and borderline drinking problems by doing the one activity that has pretty much defined our friendship since the moment we met: POWER HOUR.

Just in case you hate fun or something and have never heard of a power hour, allow me to explain it to your square, narc ass. A power hour is a shot of beer every minute for an entire hour. And you know when a minute is up every time the song changes on your iTunes (an application called iPowerhour will automatically switch to a random portion of the song every minute). To do this though, we had to get shot glasses, so we went to a little gift shop where apparently and according to Emily some guy who played a character named Denny on Gray's Anatomy was in line right behind me. Having both of our genitals securely in tact, this was lost on Carter and I as we have never watched Gray's Anatomy. But apparently it was this guy, whose name is Jeffrey Dean Morgan.


It's a very good thing I didn't notice him at first because I clearly would've been lost in his mysterious yet undoubtedly gentle gaze.

However we went back home and finally did a successful power hour. Below is the playlist of champions:

All songs listed in red are ones that you should be thankful to be alive if you play them on the west cost.

Devil in Jersey City - Coheed and Cambria
Smooth - Santana feat. Rob Thomas
Wonderwall - Oasis
This Love - Maroon 5
It Ain't No Fun (If The Homies Can't Have None) Snoop Dogg feat. Warren G, Nate Dogg and Kurrupt
Californication - Red Hot Chilli Peppers
Clocks - Coldplay
Intergalactic - Beastie Boys
Forgot About Dre - Dr. Dre feat. Eminem
Ziplock - Lit
Juicy - Notorious B.I.G.
In Bloom - Nirvana
Sittin' At a Bar (The Bartender Song) - Rehab
How To Succeed In the Music Business (Without Really Trying) - Hollywood Ave
Sweetness - Jimmy Eat World
Smack That - Akon feat. Eminem
Crooked Teeth - Death Cab For Cutie
Good Girls, Bad Guys - DMX
Trippin' Billies - Dave Matthews Band
On to the Next One - Jay Z feat. Swizz Beta
All Star - Smash Mouth
The Science of Selling Yourself Short - Less Than Jake
Going Away to College - Blink 182
Nightswimming - R.E.M.
One Week - Barenaked Ladies
Love Story - Taylor Swift
The Next Episode - Dr. Dre feat. Snoop Dogg
Let's Make This Moment a Crime - The Format
I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing - Aerosmith
Closer to Free - Bodeans
1985 - Bowling for Soup
Fat Lip - Sum 41
High and Dry - Radiohead
Jude Law and a Semester Abroad - Brand New
Superman - Eminem feat. Dina Rae
Colt 45 - Afroman
My Name is Jonas - Weezer
Limelight - Rush
Dumpweed - Blink 182
Hands Down - Dashboard Confessional
Sk8er Boi - Avril Lavigne
More Than a Feeling - Boston
The Kids Aren't Alright - The Offspring
Hash Pipe - Weezer
Kiss From a Rose - Seal
Forever - Drake Feat. Kanye West, Lil Wayne, Eminem
Slide - Goo Goo Dolls
The Remedy - Jason Mraz
A Praise Chorus - Jimmy Eat World
Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind
At Your Funeral - Saves the Day
Feathers - Coheed and Cambria
Your Love - The Outfield
Basket Case - Green Day
3 A.M. - Matchbox Twenty
Free Fallin' - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
What's the Difference - Dr. Dre feat. Xzibit and Eminem
Tonight, Tonight - Smashing Pumpkins
Piano Man - Billy Joel
La La Lie - Jack's Mannequin