A little news for the ladies on this Hump Day.
================
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Ceaselessly Amazed
The pace of buying a home, moving out, storing, moving in, painting, gigs, work, car breakdowns, reading, writing, filming, crinkling my nose at co-workers wearing tear-away pants to work, and general, you know, boolshit has officially taken it's toll on me.
Not but a few weeks ago I felt concern for others. Now I'm back to not really giving a shit if you get your numbers or not. Did I dawdle at a yellow and make you miss a light? Blame your slapped-seven-times snooze button, shit pig. Six would've had you eight minutes ahead of your day, and you wouldn't be back there fuming. And I do so hope you are fuming.
I'm not saying I've lost faith in humanity. That happened long ago. Life ain't all home-makeover shows and winning Lotto tickets, is it? In fact, Life ain't even close, is it? No, Life gives greatly to a few, and randomly so, in order to make us wonder, "Hey, why did THAT shitpile get a new Mustang?" Because God knows that guy who has lost three marriages and 8 kids to drugs, jail, crime, and more drugs should have a sweet car to sell so he can pay, not child support, but for that final, life-ending speedball.
Wait a second... did I just sniff some fairness? Blow me if that dudn't smell like hot apple pie and multiple orgasms the day after your least favorite co-worker gets escorted from the building by turkish prison doctors.
I know it'll all come out in the wash, but I'm humoring myself with my own prickishness for a wee bit. I'm not going to hurt anybody. I'm not driving under the influence of Tom Leykis or teaching blind kids to mime. But I have done the following:
* Closed doors to overly-loud, non-Geoff-affecting meetings on a half-hourly schedule.
* Told people "no" on a regular and frequent basis when their request neither benefits my reputation nor provides them any substantial foothold in being cool.
* Have avoided talking with people who I like while I'm within the sepia-toned fog of a beer hangover.
What I would really like to do now is tell this particularly self-loathing yet self-involved woman at work, "Hey dear... that's quite enough of the stories that affect only you." Yesterday was a 45 minute diatribe in her boss's office (door open) about how raising kids is the hardest thing in the world, how hard it is to be a good mom, how being a mom is like being a Drill Instructor and a Teddy Bear all at the same time... On and on. What I heard was...
"My 4 year old twins don't understand all the hell I go through just to get home and care for them. Instead of just loving them the best I can by being a Parent, I'm going to assume the Martyr role and secretly harbor resentment towards them because, as you can know I am a twice-divorced woman (door's been open other times), men cannot be counted on to contribute to my happiness, regardless if they are drunk on a couch, drunk on a lawn mower, drunk on my sister, or just innocent little kids who will eventually resent women, or at the least, never leave home so they'll take care of me. It's the circle of my life, like the elastic waist in my stirrup pants. Yes, this is a cable-knit cardigan."
or
"Gawd, that guy around the corner should stop wearing headphones. He'd probably be able to hear how much he farts."
I guess it's all in the tone of voice, you had to be there. I literally HAD to be there.
In the meantime, I should sum it up by saying this ain't a pity party. I have too much perspective on my life to get down over the burn I'm feeling lately. I've had much worse come my way, mostly of my own doing, and always came out stronger. That doesn't replace the want to call somebody taking too long at the grocery store a "canopy-dwelling pygmy slow loris," but it is, time to time, a nice balm.
=============
In another part of the galaxy, Jay Leno continues to rack up points in Purgatory for his egomaniacal projects. You think Heaven would book Leno over Hedberg, Hicks, and Dangerfield? And even hell would say "Oh come on, we don't want him... It's already Hell."
Jay has pledged to ride his celebrity-autographed motorcycle 'round the U.S. to raise money for Tsunami relief. Okay, the tsunami... yeah, the big wave that killed hundreds of thousands of pairs of your favorite jeans in December... was horrible. It's a major wake-up call to the rest of the world to start reading their Bibles. Christianity is about as popular in Thailand as having sex with a legal-aged woman in Thailand. Look up. That's the bar for Tsunami jokes. I may be able to best that.
Here's what chaps my Shandling. Jay is doing something he loves to do (blather, annoy others), on a great motorcycle, during the nicest time of year in America. It's for a TSUNAMI RELIEF EFFORT! Tsunami! Waves! Water! Destruction! Death! It's not a thoughtful gesture to have Matt Lauer interviewing you every Thursday to see where in the states your chin has ended up. Shouldn't he have to jump a Bellagio fountain full of his Michael Jackson jokes to make it seem like an effort?
Then again, the Rockies right now? Gorgeous. At least somebody is doing SOMETHING to help those people affected by the Tsunami... 6 months later.
===========
Thanks. I feel better. I guess I needed to write a bit.
BTW, I have no opinion on Cupcakes v. Muffins. They are equally delicious. However, I have serious issues with any pastry that is overflowing their cup all sloppy.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Not but a few weeks ago I felt concern for others. Now I'm back to not really giving a shit if you get your numbers or not. Did I dawdle at a yellow and make you miss a light? Blame your slapped-seven-times snooze button, shit pig. Six would've had you eight minutes ahead of your day, and you wouldn't be back there fuming. And I do so hope you are fuming.
I'm not saying I've lost faith in humanity. That happened long ago. Life ain't all home-makeover shows and winning Lotto tickets, is it? In fact, Life ain't even close, is it? No, Life gives greatly to a few, and randomly so, in order to make us wonder, "Hey, why did THAT shitpile get a new Mustang?" Because God knows that guy who has lost three marriages and 8 kids to drugs, jail, crime, and more drugs should have a sweet car to sell so he can pay, not child support, but for that final, life-ending speedball.
Wait a second... did I just sniff some fairness? Blow me if that dudn't smell like hot apple pie and multiple orgasms the day after your least favorite co-worker gets escorted from the building by turkish prison doctors.
I know it'll all come out in the wash, but I'm humoring myself with my own prickishness for a wee bit. I'm not going to hurt anybody. I'm not driving under the influence of Tom Leykis or teaching blind kids to mime. But I have done the following:
* Closed doors to overly-loud, non-Geoff-affecting meetings on a half-hourly schedule.
* Told people "no" on a regular and frequent basis when their request neither benefits my reputation nor provides them any substantial foothold in being cool.
* Have avoided talking with people who I like while I'm within the sepia-toned fog of a beer hangover.
What I would really like to do now is tell this particularly self-loathing yet self-involved woman at work, "Hey dear... that's quite enough of the stories that affect only you." Yesterday was a 45 minute diatribe in her boss's office (door open) about how raising kids is the hardest thing in the world, how hard it is to be a good mom, how being a mom is like being a Drill Instructor and a Teddy Bear all at the same time... On and on. What I heard was...
"My 4 year old twins don't understand all the hell I go through just to get home and care for them. Instead of just loving them the best I can by being a Parent, I'm going to assume the Martyr role and secretly harbor resentment towards them because, as you can know I am a twice-divorced woman (door's been open other times), men cannot be counted on to contribute to my happiness, regardless if they are drunk on a couch, drunk on a lawn mower, drunk on my sister, or just innocent little kids who will eventually resent women, or at the least, never leave home so they'll take care of me. It's the circle of my life, like the elastic waist in my stirrup pants. Yes, this is a cable-knit cardigan."
or
"Gawd, that guy around the corner should stop wearing headphones. He'd probably be able to hear how much he farts."
I guess it's all in the tone of voice, you had to be there. I literally HAD to be there.
In the meantime, I should sum it up by saying this ain't a pity party. I have too much perspective on my life to get down over the burn I'm feeling lately. I've had much worse come my way, mostly of my own doing, and always came out stronger. That doesn't replace the want to call somebody taking too long at the grocery store a "canopy-dwelling pygmy slow loris," but it is, time to time, a nice balm.
=============
In another part of the galaxy, Jay Leno continues to rack up points in Purgatory for his egomaniacal projects. You think Heaven would book Leno over Hedberg, Hicks, and Dangerfield? And even hell would say "Oh come on, we don't want him... It's already Hell."
Jay has pledged to ride his celebrity-autographed motorcycle 'round the U.S. to raise money for Tsunami relief. Okay, the tsunami... yeah, the big wave that killed hundreds of thousands of pairs of your favorite jeans in December... was horrible. It's a major wake-up call to the rest of the world to start reading their Bibles. Christianity is about as popular in Thailand as having sex with a legal-aged woman in Thailand. Look up. That's the bar for Tsunami jokes. I may be able to best that.
Here's what chaps my Shandling. Jay is doing something he loves to do (blather, annoy others), on a great motorcycle, during the nicest time of year in America. It's for a TSUNAMI RELIEF EFFORT! Tsunami! Waves! Water! Destruction! Death! It's not a thoughtful gesture to have Matt Lauer interviewing you every Thursday to see where in the states your chin has ended up. Shouldn't he have to jump a Bellagio fountain full of his Michael Jackson jokes to make it seem like an effort?
Then again, the Rockies right now? Gorgeous. At least somebody is doing SOMETHING to help those people affected by the Tsunami... 6 months later.
===========
Thanks. I feel better. I guess I needed to write a bit.
BTW, I have no opinion on Cupcakes v. Muffins. They are equally delicious. However, I have serious issues with any pastry that is overflowing their cup all sloppy.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Monday, June 06, 2005
Sense Her Ship!
The previous Muffin-Cupcake post dealt with some pretty tough issues.
I see now that had I never mentioned race whatsoever, it would have challenged me to write more creatively, yet clearly, in order to get across the point.
So if anybody is upset that race was mentioned and talked about, lighten up, and I mean that in an existential mood-sense, and no other way than that. Sometimes, jokes happen, and those who are offended are usually those left behind or those asking "What? What happened there? Why do I always have to ask questions at movies? Where is my walking stick? I'm going to hunt a mastodon because I'm a primitive shit pile! I only call it 'mastodon' because that's what they'll call it thousands of years from now when my metaphorical charicature is used in a 'blog' by 'Geoff Lott,' whatever kind of beast that will turn out like. And never you mind why I'm in the movies! Probably because that 'Geoff' thing is on the train of thought, and he wants you to know that your nitpicking is getting old, REALLY old, so quit the nagging, you seat sniffer."
Hey, anybody know how much a thermostat for a 1999 Chrysler Cirrus and a Radiator flush usually run? Because that's what I'm paying for tomorrow morning around 11am. It's gonna suck dingles, Barry.
We got it together baby...
============
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
I see now that had I never mentioned race whatsoever, it would have challenged me to write more creatively, yet clearly, in order to get across the point.
So if anybody is upset that race was mentioned and talked about, lighten up, and I mean that in an existential mood-sense, and no other way than that. Sometimes, jokes happen, and those who are offended are usually those left behind or those asking "What? What happened there? Why do I always have to ask questions at movies? Where is my walking stick? I'm going to hunt a mastodon because I'm a primitive shit pile! I only call it 'mastodon' because that's what they'll call it thousands of years from now when my metaphorical charicature is used in a 'blog' by 'Geoff Lott,' whatever kind of beast that will turn out like. And never you mind why I'm in the movies! Probably because that 'Geoff' thing is on the train of thought, and he wants you to know that your nitpicking is getting old, REALLY old, so quit the nagging, you seat sniffer."
Hey, anybody know how much a thermostat for a 1999 Chrysler Cirrus and a Radiator flush usually run? Because that's what I'm paying for tomorrow morning around 11am. It's gonna suck dingles, Barry.
We got it together baby...
============
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)