My leg is cramping, I swear

I ripped my jeans today at work, trying to fix my stapler. It was a minor occurrence, nothing too special, nothing worth talking about at Believe You Me Enterprises. Until they ripped some more. And more. It got to the point that I couldn't get up from my desk. It was very embarrassing. And just my luck - it was Thursday - no underpants day. The rip wasn't in my hoo-ha area, it was more on the side, below the pocket. I didn't want anyone to see my pale upper leg zone. I thought about using duct tape to cover it up but then people would be like, "yo whats with the duct tape on your pants?" Then I thought about sewing it when I remembered that I don't know how. I decided that holding the pants together strategically was the best option and just pretend that I had a cramp or something in my leg.

My boss called me into a meeting and I had to face the facts - I had to leave my desk and try my best to be discreet. When I stood up I tripped over my printer and ripped my pants completely. My hoo-ha area was in full view. My immediate thought was to run. My second thought was to wink at the ladies. My third thought, which I followed up on was to start dancing and pretend that I meant to do it. You know, be Mr. Cool. It didn't work. I had a rough day.

J-Date

Have you guys ever heard of J-Date? Well it's this Jewish online dating website that connects Jews to other Jews who want to be in a relationship. It's E-Harmony for The Chosen People. Those of you who know me are well aware that I have a girlfriend and I am not one of the thousands of people who use J-Date. Buuuuuuuut I thought what the hell, I'll check it out anyway.

So I created a false name - Jeffrey Silverberg, gave him false information - real estate agent, 6'3, 170 lbs, likes to "chill, smoke hookah, read about Israel, secular, is into sports and likes to go to the beach in the summer." Not bad, right? Kind of a generic Jewish guy. I also threw in that I wet the bed until I was 17. I mean I didn't really want anyone to email me, I didn't want to go on a date, I just wanted to browse...maybe see some people from my past. The picture I put up there was of the guy who was sitting next to me on the train. I pulled one of those "hmm...there's a glare on my blackberry, I have to hold it up right in the face of you, sir and SNAP. Got the picture." We've all done it. The guy wasn't bad looking. Kind of a combination between Adam Sandler and Jack Black (two Jews, BTW).

I got an email this morning from someone named Rachel. I was shocked. What do I do? I freaked out. I could either not write her back and be a jerk and crush her or I could write her back and tell her I'm a fake and crush her. Or I could go along with it. This was a hard choice.

I still haven't decided what to do. As I write this, I have another webpage open to J-Date. I'm going to look at her picture now and then make the decision...stay with me. OK...Rachel from Chicago. God, there are like 100. OK let me look for her screen name. Standby. Wait...what the.... GRANDMA!?!?!?

mustache

So I've been trying to grow a mustache for some time now. I can easily grow a beard. That's no problem. It's the area above my upper lip which is the problem. It's like my jaw line and neck is John Belushi - jolly, hairy, big and fruitful while the area above my upper lip is like the Jonas Brothers - insignificant but with great promise. So anyway, I've been trying to grow this mustache for a while now with little success. Don't get me wrong - hair is a-growin'. But it kinda looks funny. I've decided to grow a goatee as well - you know, to even it out. So now I've got this ridiculous mustache that I'm trying to make look not so ridiculous by giving it a brother, if you will. Tell me what you guys think:

Eggs for Breakfast

The Miami Dolphins held public, open tryouts this past year. Anyone from anywhere could participate. Nobody was guaranteed a spot on the team, but there was at least the opportunity to wow the coaching staff. I had to go. This was my shot to show everyone how talented I really was. In 8th grade I was on the Wilbur Wright Middle School Munster Mustang Football team. I wore #94 and was the backup left defensive tackle. In my first game I had a fumble recovery and ran it back to the 5 yard line. (Editor's Note: That part is true.)

That was the last time I played organized football. But what the hell, I thought, maybe I can make the team. When I arrived at the practice facility, I was wearing black sweatpants and an old yellow t-shirt with the word "Louisiana" on the front and the words "Hot Sauce" on the back. It was the only clean shirt I had.

When all the potential-Dolphins gathered for the first drill, there was so much adrenaline running through me. I was jumping up and down, sweating profusely, ready for anything. I had chugged 2 five hour energy drinks and eaten 4 raw eggs that morning. "LET'S DO THIS!" I screamed. People gave me funny looks. I ignored them. I was the new face of the Miami Dolphins. I was William Wallace, I was Ironman, I was Justin Timberlake. Screw everyone else. I had to concentrate, I had to perform.

During that first drill I got tackled and hit the ground hard. When I got up I had a big fat red mark on my right forearm. Before I knew it, I was crying. A fellow tryer-outer came up to me and said, "Suck it up, man. Don't let them see you cry." I kicked him in the shin and said, "Leave me alone you big jerk!"

That ended my glorious football career. I have no regrets.

something to ponder

my friend David has a blog. it's amazing. you should read it. http://dmbulletinonline.com

Airplane Seats

I'm currently sitting on an airplane. I just gave the 7 year old sitting behind me a lesson in etiquette. Here's how it went.
Me: Stop kicking the seat
Kid: No
Me: You better stop kicking the seat
Kid: I'm not gonna
Me: Why?
Kid: It's fun
Me: Well, sonny, it's only fun for you, there are other people you have to take into account
Kid: I have a bank account
Me: How much money do you have?
Kid: 30 dollars
Me: Pathetic.
Kid: I mowed my grandma's lawn and she gave me cash.
Me: Stop kicking the god-damn seat!
Kid's Dad: Don't yell at my kid.

Hey, Can I Use Your Phone for a Second?

Have you ever invited the Potbelly's delivery man into your house?

Take it from me - DON'T!

The Mugger

I almost got mugged last night. I was walking home from the post office when a guy approached me. Here's how it went:

Guy: Hey
Me: Uh...hey
Guy: How much money you got?
Me: Not much
Guy: Well how much?
Me: Why do you ask?
Guy: I'm gonna take it
Me: Oh you are, huh?
Guy: Yep
Me: No you aren't
(Guy takes out a blowtorch)
Me: Is that a blowtorch?
Guy: Yep.
Me: Why do you have a blowtorch?
Guy: Don't worry it doesn't work.
Me: OK good. Can I go now?
Guy: I don't know, can you?
Me: Ugh. MAY I go now?
Guy: Yes.

Sam the Brit

My new friend Sam is British. He makes me feel uncomfortable because of the way he talks. He uses words like "aubergine" and "jolly" and "cheeri-o." I hate that. Why can't he use words like "ubiquitous" or "sentimental" or "hella-good?" Like a real human being aka an American.

Sam came over the other day and said "jolly good day, would you like a swim?" I had no idea what that meant. I stared at him for a while and finally said, "Sam, look, I hate to be the guy who tells you this, but NOBODY CAN UNDERSTAND YOU!"

Sam and I are no longer friends.

Lou's Rise and Shine Family Restaurant

It's 9 o'clock in the A-M. You know what that means. What? You don't? Well I've only got one more hour until my job interview. I haven't had an interview in years. The last time I had an interview it was at Lou's Rise and Shine Family Restaurant. Lou is my uncle. The interview consisted of Uncle Lou saying "Don't f**k this up."

My interview today is at Gargantuan and Flabbergast. They do animal adoption and family law here locally in Terre Haute. I just went out and bought a dress shirt and a silk tie with a picture of the Supreme Court on it. Gotta dress to impress, right homes?

I'm starting to get nervous. It's now 9:18. I hope I'm not late. Slappy's handicapped and I told him if he doesn't get me there on time, we are going to have some serious talking to do. Slappy's my car.

I'm going to leave soon. I have to get my CD collection ready - a good boss always likes a good CD collection. I'm going to bust out moves like they've never seen. This is good, I'm getting more confident. Maybe I'll show them my Beanie Babies, too.

Wish me luck. I have sweat stains on my shirt.

RockbandGod3

I play online poker. A lot. My avatar's name is RockbandGod3. I thought it was equal parts biblical and intimidating - exactly what you want for online poker. Now I'm not sure how many of you play poker over the internet, but it's quite the thrill. From the moment you give the website your credit card information, it is ON.

Not only is playing poker online a great way to spend my time, I blush when I say this, but I met my boo over the site as well. Her name is Pryncess818. I'm not sure if that's her real name.

I instantly fell for her. There's no way to tell if she's really a pryncess, but I'm betting she is. I started flirting a bit during our first couple Sit-N-Go tournaments. Oh? What's that you ask? Yeah, that's right. She flirted back. I was getting somewhere with royalty!

After a couple months of good times and good talks, I decided to give our relationship a rest. Don't get me wrong, I was having a great time and needless to say, I really think we had a connection. But needlesslier to say, I had a lot of homework to do. I mean, I'm only 9 years old.

I'm only kidding, that never happened.

Duck Hunt

This morning before work I went on a duck hunt.  It was my first time hunting and let me tell you, it was a quack.  My only experience with hunting was when I was a little kid playing Duck Hunt on Nintendo.  I sucked at that game, therefore I thought I would suck at the real life duck hunt.  I was dead on.

I was a terrible shot.  I couldn't shoot anything. Every time I took a shot I said "bam!" very loudly, hoping that maybe I'd scare a duck to death.  Didn't happen.  Now keep in mind that I'm a lover, not a fighter, so accompaning each "bam!" was a "oh man, I'm so sorry."  So it went a little something like this.  (Gabe raises the gun, takes aim, shoots and says, "Bam! Oh man, I'm sorry.") What was I sorry for? I'm not so sure, maybe the fact that I was out in the freezing cold shooting at ducks and god would look down on that.  Who knows, maybe god was a duck hunter himself.  I'm pretty sure Abraham was, I think I learned that at hebrew school (Thanks Mrs. Silversteinberg!) (sigh... I digress.)

Anyway, when I got to work I found out that my company was buying lunch for everyone.  They were ordering Chinese food and we all had to pick something from the menu.  I looked over the menu and came across "Peking Duck." Ironic, no?  Don't you think? I had to get that.  I had to win the battle with the ducks.  If you can't beat 'em, eat 'em.  That's what I say.  

I'm only kidding.  That never happened.

Office Troubles

I get nervous a lot. Sometimes my nervousness is reasonable. Sometimes it's not. So yesterday at work I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business when one of my secretaries (yes I have more than one. I'm a P.I.M.P) came over to me and said, "Mr. Culberg, someone's here to see you."

Naturally, I got nervous. Who could it be? My boss? Michael Jordan? Edward Norton? It could be anyone! I gathered myself and calmly said, "send them in."

The big, mahogany doors to my office opened and in stepped a small child. He approached my desk and said, "Hi Dad, it's me, Phil." "Uh, Hi, Phil," I said. Then there was silence. Phil and I starred at each other for what seemed like hours. I was getting more nervous as time wore on. Finally I said, "What do you want, Phil? What the hell are you doing? Who are you?" Phil's eyes started to water. "Don't you know me? You don't recognize me, Dad?" "No, I don't." Phil then took a step back, looked at my name plate and said, "Oh shit, wrong office."

I'm only kidding, that never happened.

Playing Basketball

I enjoy playing basketball, everyone knows that. I was the starting point guard on the Munster High School state championship team. Ever since I moved to Chicago, I enjoy going down to Lincoln Park and shooting some hoops. Last night, though it was cold, I decided to get my game on. I went to LP and I was the only one on the courts. I was warming up, knocking down threes, when a very large man came up to me.
Large man - "Sup."
Me- "Yeah, what's up?"
Large man - "Wanna ball?"
Me - "You are a very large man."
Large man - "obvi."
Me- "OK, Yeah, let's play"

Now I am a big guy, but this dude was freakin enormous. He smoked me. He won 11-2. I mean I just couldn't compete with this fella. When we were done playing and my lungs burned from playing defense and the sub-zero temperatures, I asked him what his name was, I only wanted to be polite.

Me - "what's your name?"
Large man - "Larry"
Me - "Does Larry have a last name?"
Large man - "Bird"
Me - "Larry Bird? What kind of name is that?"
Large man - "I'm from Indiana"
Me - "So am I!!!"

I'm only kidding. That never happened.

driving to work this morning

So this morning as I was driving to work I saw a guy on the street who looked just like my friend Tim. I have a running joke with my friend Tim that he is a slacker and therefore can't get a job. (Editor's note: Tim is not a slacker. And he has a job). I yelled out the window, convinced it was Tim, "Hey slacker! Get a job you bum!" To which the Tim doppelganger replied, "I'm trying. I'm actually headed to the unemployment office right now. Leave me the f**k alone!"

Needless to say I felt like a giant schlub. I slouched down in my seat, hopeful that as I drove by him he couldn't get a good look at me.

just kidding. that never happened.