Cart… Horse
I was recently in Washington D.C. to look at a few apartments. I have decided, come hell or high water, that I am moving to D.C. as soon as I possibly can. The only problem is that when I decided this I also thought I would have a job by now. If you are new to the ’sure bout that’ community (we’re a community the way that a family of four is a city) than let me get you caught up. Dan and I are unemployed, this is a recurring theme. But, I have told myself that if I move to D.C. first, it will be easier to find a job. Here is my reasoning: 1) if I am living in D.C., as opposed to my parents house, I will have to spend what little savings I have in order to survive until I find a job and 2) seeing people go to work everyday all around me will motivate me to really pound the pavement and get out as many resumes as possible.
So, on Wednesday evening I signed the lease to a 2 bedroom apartment with a former co-worker from my internship last summer. I’m taking the plunge and hoping I can find a job like, nowish, so I can actually afford to live in the extremely expensive city that is Washington D.C.
I may find myself waiting tables in the mean time…
What is ‘Integrity’?
Dan: I was looking at our blog stats and seeing how people find their way to the site. Some guy googled “sun chips slow or fast digesting” and found himself at sureboutthat.com. Other people have googled “do work” “dolphin olympics” to get there. more buzz words = more hits?
I suggest we type “heath ledger” over and over and over again
Pat: I agree. Also possibly, hitler, 911, conspiracy, Obama, and as many song lyrics as possible. How’s our traffic looking, other than being the final resting place of people who have only a working knowledge of google?
Dan: Well we have yet to reach our personal record of 49, but we’ve been at a solid 20-25. God bless those individuals. Should we begin catering to our google searchers? Pose as scientist who are experts on sunchip digesting?
Pat: Possibly, put it in the idea file. I already have some experience as a scientist, as you are well aware…
Dan: Maybe our blog should hold the content of those annoying flashy ads. Like “HEY GO ON A CHEAP TRIP TO VENZULA FOR 10 BUCKS!” or “Want to save money on your car insurance? Gas prices decimating your wallet / credit score? BUY MILK!” I’m not sure they really make sense, but I can’t tell you how often I google those words.
Pat: You see Dan, you’re an idea man. And I like that. You’ll go places my friend. You’ll go places. Get marketing on that flash ad asap.
District of Ye Olde’ Columbus Act IV
I always finish what I start. Except for my short stories about a walrus named Woozle, a blog from the perspective of a dog (who works at a creativity factory), podcast aspirations, and writing a comic script.
So when I last left you (sorry I’m not sorry) Pat was tying my tie in an extremely heterosexual way. His soft warm breath tickled my eye lashes as he gently closed the knot around my neck. So then we were dressed and took our 50 printed resumes to the career fair, basically for nothing. Later, we got hammered and ate some banging burritos/enchiladas. We sat on the roof of a penthouse with some of Pat’s political friends and drunkily talked about “smelling” things “later”. We overlooked the National Treasury, which was nice. So it got late and Pat and I peaced. We left the roof belting out a “smell ya later” and went to walk back to our crack whore free hotel room.
But then we remembered we were in D.C. and I haven’t seen any of the memorials.
Sure the Lincoln Memorial was a more than a mile away from where we were currently, and not to mention it was about three miles away from the hotel. But those were regular miles, not drunk miles. We were like .24 drunk miles away from anywhere. So we walked by the White House, which is covered in snipers at night. Hopefully not drunk ones. Can you imagine snipers drunk on the Whitehouse? Oh lord that would that be a mess. The annual Easter Egg Hunt could result in many more causalities than normal. (Did you know four kids ends up in the hospital every year from that?)
We continued on to the capital and walked through some scary woods until we detoured to the Korean War Memorial. Let me tell you how majestically terrifying that is. There are statues of soldiers that are slightly larger than life. They’re just large enough to be like, “Hey we’re here and probably much more important than you will ever be.” So you just stare at them, aghast, as they walk through their marsh like settings with an American flag in their sights. It’s probably a metaphor for freedom. They’re also infused with moonlight which gives them a possessed feel. Any minute I’m watching them I was expecting one of them to look over at me and ask me why I’m not helping them fill the world with democracy.
After that magical wonderland we climbed the steep narrow steps to Abraham Lincoln’s house. This guy is huge. I would reckon that if he were ever inspired enough to get off of his cement throne and exercise he’d be benching thousands of kilos. Kilos of unity and peace. Whoever decided this monument was an extremely blunt man. “Let’s make a monument with logs and a meager lumberjack trying to chop down the trees. The trees will me marked with all sorts of slurs of something.” And then the foreman of the project slapped him in the face and said, “No. We’re going to get the largest amount of whatever stone we can find and carve his body out of it then put him in his own giant house.” I stared into his eyes, agape, waiting for him to come to life like that Ren and Stimpy cartoon. I can only imagine that, much like the other memorials, his words would inspire shame and disappointment. He would confirm that, yes, I will never be as outstanding or grandiose as he. Ever.
Thanks D.C. Only you can take a fun fantastic trip and dip it into a vat of guilt.
Apples are Dicks
So what if I’m sitting in the dark, eating a turkey sandwich with questionably aged turkey, looking at a television that may be displaying images from “So You Think You Can Dance?” Maybe I have hit rock bottom but I am man enough to put my problems aside and focus on more pressing matters.
In our homes we are witness to horrible beatings to defenseless creatures and many of us are standing by arms crossed too busy wondering if they can dance to do anything. These beatings have been going on for ages and it’s finally time for things to end. This revelation came upon me yesterday when I went to eat my banana at lunch. I pulled it out of my brown paper bag horrified at the bruises that covered its skin. “What happened?” I asked it. It was too shocked to respond. Poor guy.
It’s not only bananas, though they are the most bullied, peaches, pears, tomatoes, and even strawberries are getting pushed around by the older wiser fruits. Stopping this epidemic begins with pinpointing the problem. What fruit is the oldest, wisest and most well known? Apples. It got its big break in the ye olden Bible as a featured fruit that caused all sorts of trouble. Need I remind you of the poison apple that nearly put the hustling Snow White out of commission? Yes I know these are works of fiction but the inspiration had to stem from some violent act committed by apples. Why else would they constantly be portrayed as the fruit of the devil? They have the ability to keep doctors away because apples are such assholes. Doctors don’t want to deal with someone infested with the essence of apple. Duh.
So with apples beating the hell of the other fruits in the pantry what do we do? I can’t stand the horror of packing a lunch full of pathetic bruised covered bananas anymore. My lunch is pathetic enough without any miserable fruit infesting my bag. All I have to look forward to is a lame turkey sandwich, possibly a peanut butter sandwich made from some peanut butter I found in my grandma’s pantry that may have expired four years ago, and some pretzels. I don’t need a depressing battered peach to go along with the wreckage. To remedy this I think a group fruit session would be a good start. Gather all of the fruit in a cozy living room, brew some hot chocolate, maybe a fondue cheese fountain, and just talk about our differences. Once that dialogue gets flowing the bruises should heal and differences will be undifferencized.
It’s an age-old problem with a simple solution. Have we lost touch with the fruit we use to grow with our bare hands? I hope it’s not too late to get back to our roots and love fruit again. So remember the next time you see an apple just remember those poor pathetic bananas and try to make a difference.
Games and Gaming
I’m actually surprised that neither of us have written much about gaming yet. Dan and I are both pretty avid gamers, we’re at the point where we probably play games considerably more than we should.
I think we each have our gaming “niche” that we follow, but we overlap a pretty good bit too. Dan is really big on the portable stuff, namely the Nintendo DS. For those of you that thought portable gaming systems were just for when you’re traveling, you’ve obviously never met Dan. If he could, Dan would have his DS surgically attached to his body. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told me he regularly played his DS during sex, that is, if he were able to trick some poor hapless lady of the night into his Grandmother’s home. I’m more into the strategy type games, that or anything that has a constant goal for me to chase. I’ve been a fan of the Civilization type games since they first started appearing, and games like World of Warcraft, where you’re always trying to get that better piece of armor, tend to hold me in a vice grip.
Unfortunately, our love for video games is often disrupted by our severe inability to find gainful employment. (I feel almost like I’m beating a dead horse here, “ok, we get it, you guys are unemployed, can you please write a post that doesn’t mention you two morons trying and failing miserably to get a job?!?”) This lack of cash has lead us down the slippery slope of free internet flash games. I play them daily, I’m not proud of it, but I do. (”Hello, my name is Pat, and I’m a game-a-holic.” “Hi Pat”)
We’ve seen quite a plethora of flash games, ranging from vomit inducingly poor (i.e 3/4 of the crap on newgrounds) to cripplingly addictive (Dolphin Olympics 2). So I’m taking this opportunity to introduce you, reader, to some of my favorite flash games. Feel free to mention any that I miss, my list isn’t all that long; I’ve got a very diserning palate.
(later)
I originally started naming my favorite flash games here and then giving a brief little summary of what they were. After writing the second summary I felt like I was writing for a really bad episode of ‘Reading Rainbow’ and I couldn’t get the image of Levar Burton out of my head. So instead, I’ll stop insulting your intelligence and just link a few of my favorites here. You’re all smart kids, you can figure them out for yourselves.
Ikariam - Think civilization but free.
Dolphin Olympics 2- You control a dolphin, that’s cool enough for me.
GemCraft - A base defender type game.
Thats all for now. Like I said, if you’ve got any that you really like please post them in the comments section.
The Prodigal Son
Well, I’ve been AWOL for a while now, and undoubtedly you, our loyal readers, have been concerned for my well being. I would like to thank you all for the cards and kind words over the last few days, they have really helped me through this rough patch.
As Dan mentioned to you a few weeks back, I was auditioning for a major part in NBC’s new reality TV show ‘Ugly Freddy.’ I had flown all the way down to sunny Florida, which is where they will be filming the show in the next few months (it’s sort of an ugly/beautiful contrast shtick they’re running with, you know, ugly guy amongst the beautiful people and beaches of Florida).
It was tough competition, I’ll tell you that! About 30 of us, the ugliest people from around the globe, gathered in one place to prove that we were the ugliest one for the job. The days of auditioning were relentless. First, the mirror breaking contest (I had been practicing a lot for that one so it was really where I shined), then, the child scare (walk around letting children see your face until they run away screaming), there were more but I’m contractually obligated to keep them secret.
I really thought I was doing well with most of the contests; I won a few and did pretty well in the rest. Everywhere I went people were telling me I was the ugliest person they had ever seen, it really made me feel good about myself. By the last day only 10 of the original 30 were strong enough to make it through the challenges. Watching people drop out was painful, this one guy, I still have nightmares about him. His name was Brandon; it was his turn for the kid scare and the first kid he walked up to… smiled at him. Brandon fell to pieces right there, I’ve never seen a man more broken in my life. I can’t even blame him though, I mean, you spend your whole life bragging about how ugly you are just to have some kid smile at you. If Brandon’s family is reading this, my condolences on your loss.
So, on the last day the 10 of us that remained were gathered together by the producers. I thought I was a shoe in, it had to be me, it just had to. Then, the lead producer started looking directly near me (he said it hurt too bad to look directly at me). “Here it comes” I thought, “my big moment!” But then he started explaining that while I was the ugliest one there, in the filming trials his camera men would go into a bout of hysteria after filming me and run to the nearest fire to burn the tapes. He said they kept shouting something along the lines of “el feo Diablo, el feo Diablo!” Unfortunately, because they were unable to keep any film of me away from the raging infernos which the camera crew had hastily constructed, it would be impossible for them to use me as Ugly Freddy.
It’s been a few weeks since the auditions and I’m finally starting to return to my normal routine. I’ll keep on keeping on like I always have.
(cue REM’s everybody hurts)
To Pat
How many more post do you think I can do before you even think about posting one thing?
I know you just got some crazy aloe shampoo in your eye and it stings real bad, but your hands still work and an eye problem didn’t stop someone like Ray Charles. Let me know, dawg.
Ye Olde District O’ Columbus Act II
Pat and I parked in an exciting looking parking lot, with exciting signs hanging above us, below an exciting hotel with excited sorority girls who were excited to be meeting up for what looked like their 20th anniversary of first meeting each other and Pat and I were less excited to be surrounded by green and pink clad sorority women and even more unexcited to find out a hotel room is much more expensive than we thought. But we pressed on.
We walked through a parking lot and saw a homeless man sleeping. Well he may not have been homeless. For all we know he was just sick and tired of sleeping in his own house. How boring is that? We do it day in and day out and this guy is the only guy with balls big enough to mix it up. While clutching his shoe shining kit. More striking than that was his shoes were made by Brooks. You know, the super awesome running shoe company? Their shoes run at about $100 a pop. I currently cannot afford a pair of these but this man can. I’m clearly doing something real wrong.
We plopped down on a sidewalk looking all homeless like and contemplated our next move. To be fair, Pat looked much more homeless than I did with his old raggedy plain white t-shirt, torn up cargo shorts, socks pulled midway towards his knee, and drinking from a $.99 Arizona Fruit Punch can. No one asked him for money.
Time went by and we decided to change from borderline homeless into respectable citizens. We headed back to the parking garage to put on our dress pants, some shiny shoes, and sports coat. I can only imagine the reaction someone may have if they saw two homeless looking kids putting on full blow suits in a grimy parking garage. Horror? Repulsion? Terror? Intrigue? Seduction? I’m sure if anyone saw us they contemplated reporting a homicide/identity theft to the authorities.
We aren’t homocidal maniacs and if we decided to kill some dudes and steal their outfits we would have done it in some alley way, not a parking garage.
Pat did help me tie my tie which was really nice of him.
Ye Olde District O’ Columbus
Pat and I have decided to venture south of the ol’ Mason Dixon and I bet you can imagine sorts of obstacles we had to pass on our way down here. Apparently, we’re just big ol’ dumb freedom loving yanks who can’t handle regular driving conditions. At all times we are in danger of someone swerving into us or cutting us off like a knife would cut through warmed butter or Country Crock. I should back up though.
Pat and I need some J.O.Bs so Pat did some research and found a career fair in D.C. (our nation’s capitol, not Downtown Cleveland) so Pat was going to go. Alone. Then I realized I also do not have a job and maybe this would be great situation. So I told my internship my car was broken down and I could not make it to work (which it is). Next thing I know were onto D.C.
We just entered Democracy Boulevard. No joke.
So we stopped at a Chik-Fil-A for some lunch, accents everywhere, and I want some waffle fries like any red blooded American would. One problem, they aren’t listed anywhere on the menu. At all. It’s probably the one thing besides chicken this company is known for and the product or price is labeled nowhere. I was appalled. Has saying a number become so intuitive that construction of a meal from scratch has gone by the wayside? Hopefully it’s just the south and if you, dear reader, are unfortunate to live in an area where construction of meals is frowned upon I urge you to flee. Flee to an area where numbers aren’t even an option and you get a meal from the mish mash of items you crave. Did I just plug Subway? Probs.
So wish Pat and I some luck as we gallivant around D.C. with no idea what we’re doing or how to present ourselves. Hopefully we didn’t print out 50 copies of our respective resumes for nothing.
Welcome to the Joke Carnival
So as I sit here at the local Panera eating cream cheese from the small Panera container with the aid of a knife (delicious) I can’t help but wonder what to do with all of the jokes I’ve created. The joke industry is always growing and I want to hop on that hot air balloon before it gets just out of my reach. I wake up in the morning, look at a pair of black dirty socks and a joke flashes in my mind. It’s ridiculous how gifted I am. I can view things with my eyes and, much like a crappy pacifistic version of a terminator, create a joke from almost nothing. I have a few here from my showcase that I want to get out in the open. You know, start building my rep as some sick ass joke slinger who walks into a joke saloon, spits into a joke spittoon, eats a hand full of fortune cookies (without harming the fortunes at all), and tells a joke so good that the entire establishment buys me a drink then helps tie my horse up outside.
What is the loneliest cheese in all the land?
ProvALONE!
What did the boy’s mother say to him after he peed all over the new oriental rug that they just won from an auction that featured other fine pieces of furniture like Genghis Khan’s helmet, a feudal peon, and samurai armor made from weasel hide?
UR-INE trouble!
What is the funniest bite?
A GIGGLEbyte
How about the scariest bite?
A TERRORbyte!
And finally (courtesy of my sister) what do yams wear to bed?
Their Yammies!!
Oh crimeny. I have cramps from laughing so hard.
Bad news. Pat rang me from Florida to tell me that he was indeed called back for a second audition for Ugly Freddy, but failed to progress. He did not explain too much of what happened since he soaked his phone in tears and I think it short-circuited.