Feb 12
22
Insomnia Leads to Dick Pills
Would you trust this guy with your crotch?
See, I usually sleep pretty well. Takes me a while to get to sleep but when I do, holy shit lookout! I sleep like a dead body most nights. Nothing short of a nuclear explosion or a middle of the night “let’s do-it” from my wife will wake me up. Unfortunately, both of those events happen at just about the same rate.
Anyway, last night I couldn’t sleep for shit. I went to bed at a respectable 11pm. By 12, I was back downstairs. 12:30 upstairs, 1:00 downstairs, around 4:00am I threw in the towel and just stayed downstairs on the couch, with the TV tuned to SyFy. And holy hell I think SyFy’s programming department is made up of monkeys on LSD. They played some weird shit at 4am.
Of course, seeing as how I had the sound turned off, just about anything at 4am when you’ve been up for nearly 24 hours would probably seem weird. But I digress. The movie “9″ was on. It was an animated something or other and as I just learned at IMDB, Elijah Wood was one of the voices. It’s good to see Hobbits getting work, post-Rings trilogy. You don’t see enough Samwise Geegee these days. And yes, I know Elijah was Frodo, calm down nerds.
From what I could tell by not hearing a word of it and only sort of paying attention to it, it was about aliens that did stuff and it didn’t work out as they had hoped, then one of them got fried on a force field or something. I dunno, not my cup of tea I guess. Luckily enough, the movie ended before I could give too much of a shit, and the infomercials started up.
Did you know there’s a new something or other out there that will insure you have great sex? It’s called Triverex, and it’s the newest, most awesome sex drug available without a prescription that you can only order on the phone at odd hours of the morning. You know this stuff has GOT to be legitimate. I’m not linking to it, because they’re not paying me to do so.
What I did learn from the 30 minutes they purchased on SyFy Network at 4:30am was that this stuff is a “Revolutionary Breakthrough in Natural Male Enhancement”. Among it’s attributes:
- Puts you in the mood with greater arousal and desire – so you’re always ready to deliver when the time is right. (All I need is a glimpse of side boob, and I’ve got this one covered)
- Designed to improve your blood flow – so you can have ROCK HARD erections. (umm, see the previous entry)
- Supercharges your energy and sexual stamina to bring you and your partner to full satisfaction and sexual pleasure. (Because she definitely wants my big sweaty ass against her that much longer)
But lest you think this is yet another scam, fear not! Dr. Mark A. Moyad, M.D. has endorsed this product wholeheartedly. He even says “Triverex is the breakthrough that so many men have been waiting and hoping for”. Amazing, he managed to find the 4 guys that haven’t heard of Viagra or Cialis, or hookers. But what I truly love from their web site is this helpful chart:
Please take note that:
a.) This product “FIRES ON ALL CYLINDERS”. Nice try, Triverex, but I know you’re not a car
b.) Manufactures in a fully Good Manufacturing Practices compliant facility. Just the fact that you felt it necessary to clear up any confusion that it was not, in fact, made in some guy’s garage over the past three weekends when he was simultaneously cooking up a batch of Jed’s All-Natural Crystal Meth, now with Limon, worries me more than had you left this little piece of info off your chart entirely.
Overall, this is dick medicine. I’m sorry, it’s an “All natural male enhancement supplement”, whose claims have not been evaluated by the FDA, USDA or DEA. For all we know it’s made of monkey shit and sawdust. Both are completely all natural. Neither is something I would consider ingesting in order to get my pecker standing up.
I think if your penis is not working as you wish it would, and you’re not being ridiculous like thinking it will just hammer away like a piston on an oil rig when you snap your fingers and shout “Klamazzal”, then your best bet would be seeking a doctor’s advice. Not a T.V. doctor, and not that creepy hobo that insists he is Doc from the original Snow White films. No, go see your physician. The guy with the office and the diplomas from schools not name “Universty of Phoenix” on his wall.
I just want to know when the vitamin companies, pill pushers and Nigerian princes (via email 1,000 times a day) got so interested in everybody’s dicks. I lived almost 20 years without ever thinking about anyone else’s schlong. Seriously. I never once sat there in a moment of quiet reflection and thought to myself, “Not only do I enjoy my penis and what it does for me, I wonder how everyone else’s dong is doing today? Perhaps I’ll start a club. The Pecker Pot. Yes. Then we can all sit around and inquire as to the current status of our peers’ schwanzes. It will be glorious and I will be hailed as Sultan of Sac, or perhaps, the Duke of Dangle. I will be revered on high for my cutting edge thinking to form a group of men to talk about their dicks.”
The Taliwhacker Counsel Has Convened
Couldn’t you imagine? I mean, yeah, all guys have said “How’s it hangin’” from time to time, but that was more of a “Hey, howya doing?” Than a sincere inquiry as to the current dangling status of their friend’s pork sword. I imagine we could be penis pen pals, writing letters, including charcoal sketches and water color renderings that depict how our bacon rods are feeling at that particular moment. I would paint in vibrant colors, back when I was in my 20′s. Lots of orange, yellow, and red. Showing action, but never showing a partner.
So yeah, my order is on its way. I love my penis THAT much.
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Feb 12
20
Monday Jousting Hangover – Round Two
Full Metal Testicles Jousting Mathis vs. Nodar
For one glorious hour last night, I was treated to some of the most balls-out brutality that can legally transpire on your television set. Full Metal Jousting was back for round two and once again, they didn’t disappoint. I have to say, it’s not as action packed as some other sports, but what it lacks in overall action, it more than makes up for in pure, unfiltered carnage. These guys must have a second set of testicles, there’s no way in hell you could participate in jousting with just the standard single pair of balls.
So, last night, we were treated to a bit more training footage in where the competitors were shown techniques and given a chance to sort of hone their skills a bit. With the Red team suffering the first loss of the series last week, they were out there to try to even the odds and insure that their first loss was their last loss. We get a chance to see more of the jousters interacting, and getting to work together as a team. Ultimately that team stuff will have to go out the window as they approach the finals to decide the overall champion of the event and to see who walks away with a cool $100,000.
Since the Black team won last week, they got to pick their Red team opponent. The Black team selected Jake Nodar, a horse trainer by trade, and widely assumed to be the weakest link on the Red team. Since we’re not privy to all of the training footage between events, we as an audience simply have to take their word for it. The jouster for the Black team would be Jack Mathis, a Theatrical Jouster. I would have to imagine, that as a theatrical jouster you have a leg up on your competition because you are at the very least comfortable on a horse, wielding that lance and hitting targets on a daily basis.
Now that the competition is set, the teams set out to train their guys for victory. And for Jack, it’s looking pretty good. He’s got the skills, the determination and the drive to win. Obviously there’s some things to work on, but they seem to be minor and if you had to put money on the early favorite, it was going to be Jack. At one point, however, during his training, he takes a wicked hit to the head and winds up breaking a tooth. After the doctor checks him out, he’s cleared to continue.
We’re next treated to Jake’s training. Even his coach mentions how he’s just not skilled at the event, but then, how many people are really? So they work with him on his lance technique, and for the majority of the training he’s missing everything. Just looking bad…until he doesn’t. He starts making strikes, getting his timing down and looking like he belongs there.
After the training segments, we see the guys back in their own team headquarters, and Jake decides to go talk some trash to the Black team. It’s friendly enough, at least as friendly as trash talk can be. He calls Jack out and says that he’s got a target on his shoulder. To this, the black team makes fun of him saying he messed the phrase up, that it should be “Target on your back, or a chip on your shoulder”. This is where I have to disagree. The target in jousting, is in fact, on your shoulder. Before you go calling someone stupid….yada yada.
And finally…FINALLY we get to the match. The jousters suit up, mount up and take to the “sandbox” as they’ve come to refer to it. And it’s on like Donkey Kong.
Pass 1:
Red makes solid contact and unhorses the Black Knight. The Black Knight doesn’t score a strike. He is immediately checked out by a doctor to insure he can continue the competition. As an aside, apparently the rules state that the minute the doctor walks away you have two minutes to get back in your armor and on your horse or you risk disqualification. Jack makes it back in time, and gets ready for another round.
Score: Red: 10 Black 0
Pass 2:
Contact is made by both competitors but neither strikes the Grand Guard on the shoulder. Therefore, no points are awarded.
Score remains Red: 10 Black 0
Pass 3:
Another zero point round. Both guys are struggling to find their targets. You almost can’t blame Jack, he’s probably still a bit rattled from that early knock-down. And Jake, well, he’s still green.
Score remains: Red 10 Black 0
Pass 4:
With frustration setting in for Jack, he gets a bit careless. He makes contact for a score, but overextends himself to the point that he manages to unhorse himself. Sloppy riding is to blame. Since Red didn’t make contact, no points are awarded for the take down.
Score is now: Red 10 Black 1
The doctor does step in to check on a visibly upset Jack, and after he leaves the race is on to get him back on his horse within the two minute time window. Luckily, they manage to get him back on in time.
Pass 5:
The first 4 passes see the Knights using lances that are 1 1/4″ in diameter. For the last 4 rounds, the lances are 1 1/2″ in diameter. This adds rigidity and weight to the weapon. And our fifth pass sees a double miss. Both sides attribute that to the change in weight of the lance.
Score remains: Red 10 Black 1
Pass 6:
Red scores a strike, and Black actually breaks a lance, but in doing so, misses the grand guard, so he receives no points for his efforts.
Score is now: Red 11 Black 1
Pass 7:
Another double miss. I can only imagine the stress leads to sloppy targeting. That’s not a knock on the competitors, they’re doing something I don’t have enough balls to do. Just my thoughts.
Score remains: Red 11 Black 1
Pass 8:
With the final pass coming up, Black is still in a position to at least tie it up. They haven’t mentioned what sort of tie breaker system they employ in the event it happens, but he’s got the chance. If Jack can unhorse Jake on this pass, he will tie.
And they’re off, Black misses and Red strikes but not on the grand guard. In doing so, Red loses his lance completely. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter because Jake Nodar for the Red team has prevailed.
Final Score: Red 11 – Black 1
This brings the series to a tie, with one win each for the teams. A great show, a ballsy effort and I sincerely hope they bring this back on a very regular basis after this season. Check it out if you haven’t already. History Channel, Sundays @ 10pm
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The people behind me at the movies
A little background before I get to my letter, since more than just this guy will be reading it. I took three of my sons, two of their friends and my wife to see the new Ghost Rider movie this past Saturday night. It was my 12 year old’s birthday and he wanted to go see it. I’m an accommodating sort of Dad, so we went to see it. Tickets for 5 kids and 2 adults came to just shy of $70. Dinner prior to the movie was another $50 at the pizza buffet place they wanted to go to. We opted for the 7:30 showing.
Knowing the movie was just released the day before, we all knew it would be crowded, and when you add Saturday night into the equation, it gets even more hectic. We arrived at the theater and found our seats about 20 minutes early to insure we could all sit together. Now, on to the letter:
Dear Jackass With The Loud Mouth,
I really wanted to write and thank you for being there Saturday night, directly behind me and my family for the screening of Ghost Rider. We thought we were going to have to figure out what you thought was funny, or intense or exciting all on our own, or at the least, we would have to turn around and ask you occasionally throughout the show. Knowing how aggravating that might be for you, to be constantly interrupted during the movie, I was thinking that maybe I’d just sit there quietly, taking notes and try to get you alone afterwards to get your thoughts at that point. It wouldn’t be as good as a running commentary, certainly, but I’m not really so forward when meeting someone for the first time. Thankfully, you were a step ahead of us, and more often than not you felt our need to know what you were thinking before we even thought to wonder.
Your extremely loud conversation with the 12 people you arrived with was a pleasant departure from my normal movie going experience. Knowing exactly when you thought something was “Holy shit, that was funny!”, or when a particular scene made you feel “dang dat boy got his ass beat” really added something special to the overall show. I am actually thankful that you felt the need to have long conversations, LOUD long conversations, about the 30 second action scene that just finished up with your friends and by extension, me. I really didn’t need to hear the dialogue that the actors on screen were reciting anyhow.
I had never noticed it until this night what I was truly missing by being able to hear the entire movie, start to finish, without a barely educated, extremely loud sack of chicken shit telling the theater what he thought all throughout the viewing. You truly bring a special something to the table. When you would relate the on screen action to a movie you saw on television at 3am the night before, I was enthralled. Not once had I ever thought to make the comparison of the movie I’m watching to another movie I had already seen. And as luck would have it, I didn’t see the movie you were referring to and I was enthralled by your play-by-play of the action sequence, plot recaps and overall feeling that this was, in fact, “A BAD ASS MOVIE”. It was as if I got two movies for the price of one, because you sure do paint a picture with words. ”Dat right dere, dat’s just like dat movie wit day boy…damn, whatshisname…Wanda, what was dat boy’s name in dat movie the otha night? No, not him dat boy wit da thing on his face. No, dat’s dat otha boy. Damn woman. Dat boy! You know!” Ahhh, it was wonderful.
I have to admit, I thought you were just going to chat throughout the previews for upcoming movies, and that I would have to sit and pay attention to the movie I shelled out $70 for without the benefit of your every goddamned thought, every second of the film. It was refreshing in the way that falling in a port-a-potty head first would be refreshing.
I can only hope that one day we become friends, and I can attend your funeral far in the future and share with your family and friends the story about how we first met. I will extend to your family and their grieving, the exact same courtesies you extended to us at the movies. As loved ones stand to share their memories and their grief, I will be more than happy to interrupt by telling my companion that “This funeral is alright, I really liked the part where his family came in crying. It reminded me of a ‘very special episode’ of Growing Pains when Mike Seaver decided to euthanize his mother’s aunt after she suffered a stubbed toe.”
I will be glad to rate each mourner’s performance on a sliding scale, and I will absolutely let the crowd know when to laugh by sharing my laughter and “OH SHIT THAT WAS FUNNY AS SHIT DOG!!!!” often throughout the ceremony.
So again, thank you for being there Saturday. I know you really went out of your way to enhance my experience.
Gutmeister
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Feb 12
18
Monica Lewisnky – How She Blew it
This Is Presidential Quality Affair Material. For reals.
Well, I’m not much of a fan of our former President Bill Clinton, but apparently someone at PBS has decided he was worthy of a FOUR HOUR Documentary, “Clinton”. And thanks to this waste of air time, Monica Lewinsky is back in the spotlight. Though, I imagine her spotlight is more of a pen-light being held under a desk in the dark.
At any rate, Yahoo! searches for Monica Lewinsky, Monica Lewinsky Photos (shudder) and bill and monica have spiked. Apparently people just can’t get enough of a good maintenance-only blow job story. Kudos to them, I guess.
The article goes on to ask the question “Where is she now?” Like anyone really gave two shits before this documentary nonsense came about. But it would seem that she’s been keeping busy. In 2005, she moved to London and received her master’s degree in psychology. Which is fitting, really. Freud would have a field day with her and Bill’s story. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but other times, it’s a sex toy meant to be inserted in an underpaid, homely intern.
She’s back in New York, helming her own company that makes handbags. I worked hard not to say “hand jobs” but I just couldn’t do it. The Real Monica Inc. is the name of her handjob bag company. And good news men, she’s STILL SINGLE! <crickets> That’s the collective sound of the nation at large, all not giving a shit at the same time.
I really hope that two hours of this documentary is devoted to watching her squeeze her big ass under a desk in the oval office while Bill encourages her. ”That’s raht pumpkin, yew jes’ git unner that desk raht thar. Oooh, Mr. Pres-e-dent is gonna give you a lollipop. Whoops, fresh out. Here’s the next best thang.”
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Pure. Unfiltered. Comedy. Gold.
So it appears that some idiot in Washington D.C. thought he’s be clever and get a vanity license plate that reads “NO TAGS”. Ha! What a goof. This guy….this guy right here. You. Ohhhh you so kray-zeeee! What a knee slapper. A great belly laugh was had by all. Whoooo-weeeee! Ha. Hoo hoo, ha. Sorry, this is just the height of hilarity, forgive me. I’m having trouble…ha ha ha…compo-ha, composing myself. What a hoot!
And it appears this idiot managed to rack up nearly $20,000 in tickets and fines because of it. Danny White of Washington, D.C. did this as a JOKE people. He’s a master comedian the likes of which we’ve never seen before. NO TAGS??? Ah hahahahahahahah. And the best part? The BEST part? D.C. police didn’t get the joke. It’s a joke people, how didn’t you get the joke? It’s chock full of jokey goodness. Ranks right up there with Knock-Knock jokes and Why the chicken crossed the road. Classic. Comedy. Gold. Lenny Bruce, George Carlin and Richard Pryor would have KILLED with material like this.
I’ll let Eric Pfeiffer of “The Sideshow” blog tell you more:
Washington, D.C. driver Danny White thought he had a really good idea for a joke. But the joke’s on him–to the tune of $20,000, reports local affiliate NBC4.
White’s prank started 25 years ago when he got a vanity license plate reading, “NO TAGS.” He told NBC4 that he was ”Just having fun!” and that ”D.C. don’t get the joke. They don’t get it.”
The issue? Each time a car without proper identification is cited for a violation, a DMV employee enters “NO TAGS” into their paperwork. Because White’s vanity plate is registered with the District of Columbia’s DMV, his name and vehicle appear in the computer’s system whenever a “NO TAGS” violation is entered. Notices for the fines are then mailed to White’s residence.
See there? The joke is that it was a joke that the non-humor-enabled police and traffic violations computers didn’t get. NO TAGS! NO. TAGS. It practically writes itself.
I’m glad this moron got banged with $20k in fines. This ass dripping also refuses to give up the tags, even if it does mean he’s got to lose time from work to go dispute these tickets every few months. I don’t blame him. When you write such a legendary piece of humor, you would be a fool to give it away all willy nilly. No Tags. HA!
I do have a few alternatives he could consider should he ever tire of fighting the man. I know I’m not nearly as talented when it comes to humor as our dear Mr. White, but I’m going to give it a whirl anyhow:
Wouldn't this just liven up your daily commute? You'd think "What? This guy doesn't have any arms or legs?" What gives? How's he driving?
I'm sure the boys in blue would get a kick out of this one. Everyone knows donkeys are hilarious and when you give them a crippling soda addiction, look out! Hilarity will ensue.
What better way to show off your comedic chops than to proclaim how funny you were when you performed at the Policeman's ball.
Not so much hilarious, but it shows off the fact that you work on your phsyique. Guns, of course, areyour massive biceps, and Runner, you're a track star!
But sometimes, I don’t know, I think maybe it’s best just to leave comedy to those who actually do it for a living on stage and screen. I know that if I were even a tenth as talented as Washington D.C.’s very own Mr. Danny White, I’d be tempted to show it off to the world on my license plate too. In the event he ever has a change of heart, and gives up the dream of comedic vanity plate stardom, I humbly suggest he doesn’t give up on ALL vanity plates entirely…So I offer the following suggestion:
At the end of the day, isn't honesty still the best policy?
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Feb 12
16
Full Metal Testicles!
I can’t wait for Sunday night. This show needs to be on EVERY DAY.
Check it out:
Can’t you just feel your balls gaining metallic properties right now? Can’t you? BIG BRASS BALLS!!!!
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Feb 12
16
So, I’m SUPER RACIST Now.
This morning, as I was Twittering about the Twitterverse, a blogger that I follow and actually enjoy reading his articles on the WWE made a comment that I responded to:
Now I’m not one to tolerate shitty movies made by shitty people so when I recognized the Avatar: The Last Airbender reference, I replied (humorously I thought) with:
Apparently that’s racist while referring to an Asian basketball player as part of a mythical tribe of Fire wizards is not. I still don’t see the racism, but Mr. Stroud did.
See? Tired and Super Racist. This man is not only a blogger, but he’s an enlightened man who knows racism the moment he imagines it. Am I the only person who actually listened to any 50′s and 60′s Rock N Roll music in my life? Rama Lama Ding Dong never was and can never be a racial slur. It was in a freakin’ stupid song. Here, listen for yourself:
I defy you to find anything racist about that song. Making fun of someone’s name is simply that. It’s not hertiage based, I honestly couldn’t tell you where the bastard who ruins potentially good movies is from, I thought he was American born of Middle Eastern descent, but in looking it up I’ve found that he’s actually Indian. And a Hindu and probably a really decent person in his own right.
He’s just a terrible director. So, Mr. Stroud, if my making fun of his name labels me culturally stupid or racist in your mind, maybe you just need to relax a little bit and quit championing causes that don’t need champions. I didn’t say anything of the man’s heritage, upbringing, culture or color. I made fun of his name. Stroud doesn’t lend itself to too many little plays on words, so I can’t play with yours, but mine? Mothershead. Grow up with that name and see how many different variations of Mother Fucker you come across in 37 years.
And nobody was being racist. Nor were they being culturally stupid as you so eloquently put it. They were picking on my name being stupid sounding, period. I’ll leave it up to my comment section to let me know if seeing “M Night Shamalamadingdong” seems raycess to them.
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Feb 12
16
Let’s Dish…Wanna Dish? Let’s dish.
Yeah, that's me.
What is the single dumbest thing you’ve ever done? I don’t mean when you decided it was a good idea to mug that old nun walking back to her convent the other night, I mean just pure sheer stupidity on your part. I can think of a few for myself that would compete for a top spot in my life.
Let’s take for example, when I met my wife. We met on America Online. Remember that? Dial-up to the restricted internet world that Steve Case provided us? Remember the non-stop barrage of sign up disks and CDs we used to get in the mail, in our magazines, in our breakfast cereals? Are any of you old enough to remember those days? The one thing AOL was good for was chat rooms. It was like 99.8% chat rooms and .2% internet access.
Anyhow, I was skeeving around on AOL’s friend finder service and found my wife’s screenname “NascarJen02″. At the time I was a huge Nascar fan, and specifically a Rusty Wallace fan. He was the driver of the #2 car. Ergo, NascarJen02 resonated with me and I timidly sent her a message. She responded and we chatted. I finally goaded her into a date. An awful date mind you.
Now I don’t know if this restaurant was nationwide but it was a chain, called Red River. It was a steakhouse/bbq joint/Appleby’s style place. It was eventually bought out by Famous Dave’s BBQ and they ruined it. But that’s not important. What is important is that our first date was at Red River. I wasn’t much of a player, so I thought we’d have dinner and go our separate ways never to meet again. I had nothing more planned beyond dinner and there was jack shit to do in that area beyond eat dinner. No movie theaters, no plays, nothing.
We had a great dinner together, the food was average, but the date was awesome. She was actually interested in me. And no, she wasn’t drunk. I tried, she refused. So after dinner, we went back to the parking lot and I said “what do you want to do?” and she said “I dunno, what do you wanna do?” And we sat in my car for two hours talking. About silly shit and I think I talked my head off that night. Everything and anything. And I’m not usually a talker. And she put up with this shit.
At this point, a lot of people would think she was lonely, but I think I was actually somewhat charming for once in my stupid life. And we hit it off. We went out on January 15th, 1999. A Friday night, and we did absolutely shit beyond have dinner at a chain restaurant and talk in my car for hours. And it was great. She must have felt bad for me I thought.
After that I didn’t see her again until Valentine’s Day. I knew she had a son who had just turned 5 but she wasn’t letting me near him and I didn’t blame her. I might be a creep. Hell I am a creep, but in a good way. So I convinced her to go out with me for Valentine’s Day, and coincidentally, my birthday is February 15th. So I made it a dual purpose dinner and I took her to a NICE restaurant this time. We had dinner and then a movie. During the movie, we were sitting next to each other and halfway through “The General’s Daughter” with John Travolta, she grabbed my hand and made me hold hands with her. From there, it was on.
I’d travel the hour down the road to her parents’ house where she was still living to visit and then an hour back home. I was hooked and I’m still hooked, 13 years later. Apparently she saw something in me worth keeping.
Anyways, the point I’m trying to make is that we started having, well relations, after a short while. And in her room at her parents’ house. And only after she got pregnant with our first son together did she think to mention to me that “Oh, by the way, my 6 foot 4 inch,, 250lb father used to be a Marine”. Here I am having sex with this guy’s daughter in HIS house and had no idea he could kill me with his thumb.
So, that’s one of the dumbest things I ever did (not really, I’m still as much in love today as I was back then) but to not know that your future wife’s father could kill you as fast as he could say “hello” made me feel really stupid. Now, it’s your turn. Tell me what stupid shit you pulled in your life time. Let’s make a series of this thing. I’ve got more.
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C is for Cookie and Captivity, Constraint, and Chains of Repression
Really. This is a for-real article from the good folks at CBS MoneyWatch.com
The article is titled: “What selling Girl Scout cookies teaches you about business” And I found it while clicking around Yahoo. I do that when it’s too early to start drinking and too late to go back to bed. So what did this article say? I’ll save you the click and relay the highlights below.
1. The most likely sale is to an existing customer. I had one lady who bought about 20 boxes from me one year. I made sure to call her up the next year to get that order logged fast. These days, likewise, I know that people I’ve worked with before are better bets than hunting for new prospects. If I want more work, I call them first.
It’s truly insightful and ground-breaking news that someone who liked cookies last year would also like cookies this year. This is a great life lesson to learn. It helps you avoid fatties.
2. There’s no accounting for taste. I don’t particularly like Thin Mints, but they were always my biggest seller, so I made sure to mention them when people asked what kinds of cookies we were selling. Likewise, I’m not particularly fond of lists like “22 Things To Do During That Boring Conference Call,” but those are always my most read posts. So I write them.
Wow, she made sure to mention that they also had cookies that she herself didn’t enjoy for sale. Because that’s a tough lesson to learn. Cookies come in many shapes, colors, flavors, makes, models and with various features such as: heated seats, vibrating anal plug and intravenous Red Bull & Vodka shooters. Christ.
3. Cold calling isn’t as awful as it sounds. My best friend and I went door to door through our neighborhood, alternating who would get each sale. There were, indeed, some questionable people who answered the doors (one reason I suspect many parents don’t encourage door-to-door selling now) but in a team, and always smiling, we racked up some serious sales that way. Whenever I’m nervous about picking up the phone, I remember that it usually turns out fine.
This isn’t the same as trying to sell somebody a Craftmatic Adjustable Bed or talk them into investing in your Florida swampland lady. These are Girl Scouts. The one thing everyone knows about Girl Scouts is that they sell cookies. There is literally no other purpose for the Girl Scouts to exist than to sell cookies to fat asses like me. Period.
4. Internal motivation is great, but sales targets are motivational too. One year, as I neared sales of 200 boxes (then costing $2/each), I became incredibly fixated on crossing that mark. Seeing that neat number on my total, and counting up $400 in cash and checks, was so much nicer than counting up $396. These days, I know that setting a specific, numerical goal (a certain number of blog readers, book sales, newsletter subscribers, etc.) tends to have a focusing effect. Even if I like the work for its own sake, too.
And who wouldn’t LOVE giving up a few months of their free time to sling cookies for the bossman? I know I wouldn’t. Yessuh Missah Bossman Suh, I’s be happy ’nuff to sell dese here cookies for yuh. Jingle Bell Jesus in a Shoebox…this is forced slavery in the modern era, part of the Keebler Elves evil plans for world domination. You simply cannot trust a tree elf.
5. Connections matter, but they’re not everything. Some girls sold cookies largely by having their parents take the sign-up form to their offices. That can work, but those girls weren’t necessarily our troop’s top sellers. Smart scouts learn that customers prefer to buy directly from the girl the sale is benefiting. If you want to be well-connected, you can make your own connections.
The parents did this so they didn’t have to schlep around at the entrances to Wal Mart and go banging on doors for hours each day to try to hit some insane quota for cookie sales. In fact, I’m sure many parents just skip a mortgage payment and give the $1,500 or so directly to the Cookie Creeps so that they don’t wind up suddenly childless.
Look, if you want to romanticize the Girl Scouts, that’s fine. And if you learned something valuable while participating that’s even better, that’s exactly what that organization exists for. However, if you want to equate selling cookies to learning about life or business, you’re absolutely crazy. The only thing it teaches is that sometimes you have to do shit that you’d really rather not in order to remain employed or part of a particular group.
If the Girl Scouts of America really wanted to raise money, they would put these cookies for sale ONLINE and in stores, year round. More people would buy them because the profits would be going to the organization and the girls and their parents could go back to learning how to sew, start fires, avoid frat-party pregnancies, or whatever the hell they do.
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Feb 12
21
RAW Regurgitation – The Road Less Traveled To Wrestlemania
RAW is, well it's on I guess.
It’s that time of the week again. That time where I write up my thoughts and my recap on our weekly adventures of mad-cap, insane, serious, not-so-serious, ah hell, I’m writing about a full contact soap opera. Let’s just call a spade a spade.
This was the follow up show to the weekend’s big PPV event, Elimination Chamber. I didn’t bother purchasing this one, mainly because I did the math. 4 matches on the card, I was paying essentially $11.25/match. That’s a bit salty when I can get 4 matches on USA or SyFy for free. This PPV had a lousy run-up and really didn’t intrigue anyone. Nothing of note really occurred, no feuds were started or ended, it was just there.
So how did Raw do this week? Not awful, in my humble opinion.
Your opinion, as with your mileage, may vary.
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