The Sexy Criminals

I recently saw a home video of myself from 1989. I was 5 years old. I was so damn cute. You know when people look at an old picture of you and say, "You were cute, what the hell happened?" like as a joke? Well it's true in this case - seriously, what the hell happened?

I'm not a bad looking guy, but compared to the 5-year old version of myself? Jesus H. Christ, man. What do I do about this? I'll tell you what I do - I pretend to be 5.

My first move was to get the same exact pair of clothes I was wearing in that video - a blue sweatshirt with trains on it and on each car of the train it had a balloon with a letter it in. 7 cars, 7 letters. G-A-B-R-I-E-L. I was wearing bright red sweatpants with the Chicago Bulls logo on the right butt cheek. I was wearing checkered slip ons with TMNT socks. Once I gathered all these items, I got dressed.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was disappointed. I didn't look like I was 5 or cute. I looked like a freakshow. Half of my stomach was hanging out from under my sweatshirt. The Bulls logo ripped on my butt because they were too tight. The balloons popped. I had to cut the ends of the slip ons off because my feet wouldn't fit.

My girlfriend got home from work and saw me dancing in front of the mirror with my getup. She said, "Did you rob a daycare?" "Yes I did," I said. I figured it was a better story than the one I just told. Please don't tell her. She thinks criminals are sexy.

What a Ripoff

My hand got stuck to the remote control today. I was doing some carpentry around the house and I accidentally got super glue on my hand and then I grabbed the remote to turn on That 70's Show, and I couldn't put it down. I tried everything to get it off - turpentine, water, oil, soap, punching the wall, nothing worked at all. I didn't want to call an ambulance because I'm broke. Did you know it costs money to have an ambulance come to your house? What a ripoff.

So I sat and I thought. The power of the mind is the greatest power of all. Except this time. I wish I had the power to release super glue from my skin. That would be the greatest power of all. So I thought. And I thought. And I thought. Nothing came.

Then I had an epiphany. What if this is a GOOD thing? I mean I'll never lose the remote again. How many times have I lost the remote? A lot of times. I called my friend Nicolas and he suggested cutting off my hand. "Yeah man, I'll come over and do it for you. You won't feel a thing. It'll just happen so fast." Nicolas is a moron. I regretted that phone call instantly.

So what does a guy do with a remote control stuck to his hand? He sulks. He sits around watching TV, because really what else is there to do? I couldn't sleep, I couldn't exercise, I couldn't tie my shoe, I couldn't do anything except watch TV.

Have you guys seen Dirty Jobs? I love that show.

The Tuxedo Man Cometh

I sat down to a poker game with 4 of the best poker players in the world. There was Benito Nibori, a man from the Phillipines with a knack for knowing when to bet big. Then there was Rupert Greenman, an ex-marine with a penchant for yelling. There was Mr. Schullmann, a German diplomat who barely spoke English but when he did it sounded scary. "I RAISE!" he would say, but it sounded like "I will destroy you!" Scary mofo. Then there was Sunny Garden, a porn star who doubled as a professional card shark and would wear scandalous outfits to throw off her competition. And then there was me.

I would consider myself an amateur player. I'm not bad at all actually, but I've never been on the world circuit, never played in a huge game such as this, and certainly have never lost more than a few hundred dollars on any given night. How did I get into this game you ask? I have no idea.

I was sitting at my desk in my apartment doing a crossword puzzle, trying to figure out what the hell the name of Julia Roberts brother was (it's Eric) when a cloth bag was pulled over my head and I heard a voice say, "Don't move, you'll be OK." I didn't move. The next thing I know I'm sitting at this poker table with a massive headache.

I didn't ask questions, I was either too scared from Mr. Schullmann's voice or too distracted by Sunny Garden's personality to ask. I reached for my wallet and found ten thousand dollars neatly stashed away in crisp, brand new hundred dollar bills. A man in a sharp tuxedo came up to me and said, "The decision is yours. You can take the 10 grand and go home or you can play. I strongly recommend that you play." Before I made my choice I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what was at stake. "OK, so I can just leave with this money, no questions asked?" "None," said the tuxedo man. "OK I'm out."

I went home. I'm a rich man. Daidle Deedle Daidle Deedle Daidle Deedle Daidle Dum.

Get the Hell Out

I went into a restaurant that only serves pie. Any kind of pie you want - they have it. The place was called "Only Pie." Solid name if you ask me. I walked in and there was a single counter with red vinyl stools, kind of like a 1950s diner but with no booths, no tables and no women named Flo or Jo or Daisy. The woman at the counter's name was Geri. I saw her name tag and said, "Can I have a double cheeseburger with large fries and a large Coke?" I expected Geri to laugh and laugh hard. I was doubled over in my stool. I was crying. The laughter would not stop. I had diarrhea of the mouth, but with laughs.

"Get the hell out," Geri said. I stopped laughing.
"What do you mean? It was a joke. I'll have a slice of banana creme."
"No you won't. Get the hell out."
"Come on, it was a joke. I knew you only serve pie so I wanted to be funny."
"It wasn't funny. Plus, I'm a vegetarian and I'm kosher. Your ordering a cheeseburger offends me in so many ways."
"Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any harm." I really didn't.
"Your apology is no good here."

I waited a good 10 seconds before reacting. I didn't know what to do. I was confused. Why would she be so mad about this? Is this some type of test? Is God testing me? I looked up to the heavens. "God, are you testing me?"

No response. I guess I should read The Bible more often. Or stop making stupid jokes. Or both. Or neither.

Britney Spears

I recently took my creativity and competency to another level. I wanted to make whiskey in my bathtub. First thing I did was clean out my bathtub. It was filthy. There was a layer of dirt all around and inside the tub. What you need to know is that I don't bathe in this bathtub. I found this bathtub on the side of the road and decided to take it home. You never know what you need a spare bathtub for. And voila! Now I can make homemade whiskey.

I'm not one to read instructions or recipes or warnings. I figure I can just do it myself. I don't need anyone's help. Seriously, how hard can it be to make whiskey? You just need hops, water, rubbing alcohol, 3 eggs, dog biscuits, gin, beer, the ace of spades, a cut out Beetle Bailey cartoon, six sunflower seeds, a 1987 David Justice baseball card, a spare tire, sawdust, fairy dust, a baby tooth, a hammer, 14 Tyson Anytizers, toothpaste, Prozac, vitamin water, dirt (ironic, I know), cinnamon, a 15 lb dumbbell, a Christmas sweater, an old copy of Dances With Wolves, some rocks and a piano.

Once I gathered all my materials I decided I needed a bigger tub. All this stuff wouldn't fit in my backyard tub (or my inside tub). I gave it a rest. I sold the bathtub for some Britney Spears tickets and went to the concert. When she came on stage with glitter galore and lights luminating the landscape, I knew I made the right choice.

So next time ya'll want to make yourself something special, just keep in mind that sometimes some things are more important than others.

AMERICAN UNIVERSITY

American University Eagles vs. Villanova Wildcats.

GO AU!

The Funky Collection

I'm in a Beatles cover band. I'm George. My friends Paul, John, and Ringo are the other members of the band. John is Ringo, Paul is John, and Ringo is Paul. We've usually just played the older Beatles stuff, the softer side of things. You know, such greats as "I Want to Hold Your Hand," and "Eight Days a Week."

At band practice last week Ringo (Paul) brought up the idea of playing some of The Beatles crazier stuff, "the funky collection," is how he put it. We thought about it for a while. We weren't sure if we had the vocal capabilities or the finger dexterity or the confidence for songs like, "One after 909" and "Come Together." But we thought we would give it a try.

We practiced these songs, 12 new songs total. We had a gig lined up last night at Johnny's Tap, a real slick bar in Northwest Indiana. The place was packed. We came on stage in our costumes. We decided that each one of us would represent a different time period of the Beatles and we would dress accordingly. I wore a black suit with a skinny tie with a bowl cut hairpiece. Ringo (Paul) wore an Indian sari, John (Ringo) wore one of those fringy hippy vests and bell bottom jeans, and Paul (John) wore a white shroud.

We started with "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and we totally ruined it. It was horrible. We weren't in tune, the lyrics were wrong, the CD was skipping, and the crowd was booing. We walked off the stage as losers - total failures. That was our last show - our only show. We're temporarily disbanding.

Things come, things go. C'est la vie. Carpe Diem. E Pluribus Unum.

I didn't eat the donuts

Today was a pretty awful day. I literally woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I opened my eyes and I didn't know where I was. Then I dropped my toothbrush in the toilet. Then I fell in the shower and hurt my arm so I couldn't shampoo my hair and then my hair was dirty. Then I put my shirt on backward but I couldn't fix it because my arm hurt so I went around with my shirt backward all day. Then the bus was late so I was late for work and someone brought in donuts but I missed the donuts because I was late and I really like donuts. Then it started to rain and I got wet because I don't own an umbrella. Then I got in a fender bender and the person I bumped into was my boss and that was unfortunate because he really likes his car and he fired me because I hit his car. So now I'm jobless and my shirt is on backward and my arm hurts and my hair is dirty and I didn't eat any donuts and that makes me sad.

Oh and my socks don't match. It's because I'm colorblind. And then I played Monopoly with my friend Ed and he got both Boardwalk and Park Place in two consecutive turns and that was the end of the Monopoly game because everyone knows once you get those two properties, it's pretty much over. Then my watch broke so I didn't know what time it was and I went to go see a 6 o'clock showing of Titanic but I was walked in during the middle of the movie because I thought I was on time but I wasn't and people started yelling at me like, "Down in front!" And then I said, "THE SHIP SINKS!" I said that because I was mad at the people for yelling at me. I regret saying that because I didn't want to ruin the movie for people.

Old Granny Panties

It's a rough economy - no doubt about it. Sometimes you have to do things you're not proud of. Rough times call for rough measures. That's a Winston Churchill quote.

I took a job as a bellman at a fancy schmancy hotel. My job is to unload luggage from car, label luggage, take luggage to guest room - rinse and repeat. So why is this something I'm not proud of, you ask? Let me explain. I'm a nosy person. I like to get into other people's biznass. So this job, though not glamorous, is a perfect gig for me because I can get to know things about people that only a bellman can know. I look in people's bags. Allow me to share with you some items I've found.

Example 1 - an old rich lady who rolled up in a BMW.
old granny panties, Vick's vaporub, inhaler, Viagra (gross), and a rubber band ball.

Example 2 - a guy, mid 30s, rolled up in a limo.
old granny panties, tennis racket, laptop (I took it), hamster, 2 lbs marijuana (I gave it to my friend D-Bag).

Example 3 - a couple, early 20s, rolled up in a beat up 1987 Chevy.
basketball, handcuffs, cell phone charger, matching socks, a Spanish bootleg copy of Debbie Does Dallas (I took it), 3 lbs of Styrofoam (WTF?)

After much deliberation, I decided to stop looking in people's bags. It's just not as cool as I thought it would be. I wanted to find ninja swords and bananas. I wanted to find animals and FBI documents. I wanted to find cool contraptions and maybe a few thousand dollars. Instead I just got some old granny panties and an adult movie I couldn't even understand.

did you know?

There's a Facebook group. It's called "Things That Never Happened." You should join it. Unless you want to be a nincompoop.

great links

www.oldjewstellingjokes.com/ - Thanks to my brother Dave

and
www.passiveaggressivenotes.com - Thanks to my friend Emily

Like a Coconut Without a Duffel Bag

I was never good with analogies. In 3rd grade my teacher phrased this question to me in front of the whole class, "Gabe, a bark is to a tree as skin is to a ..." I said, "Cedar Rapids, Iowa?"

So I'm still no good at analogies. I try really hard, though. I try to practice every chance I get. When someone at work asks me to do something, I respond with an analogy. For example, "Gabe, will you send this package as a FedEx Priority Overnight?" My response - "Yeah, no problem. Does a banana taste like jumping jacks?" I know that doesn't make sense. When my mom told me she was going to take me out to dinner, I said, "That's cool, it'll be like when Franklin Roosevelt stepped in mashed potatoes in the Oval Office." That one was better. See? I told you I was practicing.

As I get older, I know I'll improve. It's like when you buy a bottle of wine - you know it'll be better in a few years. YES! I DID IT!

I'm just kidding, I'm actually really good at analogies.

Tinkle in the Trousers

I don't like it when people use the word "little boys/girls room." As in, "Excuse me, I have to use the little boys/girls room." Why can't they just say bathroom? My first thought is where little kids pee - which is usually in bed, in their pants or in kiddie pools shaped like turtles. So every time someone says "I have to use the little boys/girls room," I assume they are going to have an accident.

There are plenty of alternative words you can use: as stated before - bathroom, washroom, loo, toilet, John, WC, Peeatorium, lavatory, restroom. It doesn't matter what you call it. If you happen to be one of those people who say little boys/girls room, listen up - Nobody thinks it's cute. If you want to have people think you tinkle in the trousers, go ahead, but if you want to be an adult about it, choose another term.

He Spit on My Arm

There's this creepy guy who lives in my building. I was waiting for the elevator when I saw him coming. I took a deep breath and told myself I could deal - I could deal with him, just don't make too much conversation.

Anyway the creeper was standing next to me. I tried to not make eye contact and I was looking at my blackberry as if I were really busy, you know, important work stuff. Finally he took a deep breath and spit a little on my arm. I really didn't want to talk to him so I tried to wipe it off without him noticing and decided that I'd puke later.

"Sorry," he said. "Oh that's OK," I replied. I was trying not to look at him. I was pretending to type on my blackberry but what I was really typing was "dwero4234jdne32er." "Oh you have a blackberry?" he asked. "Yup," I said. "That's cool, I have a Schwinn bicycle."

"You wanna play Pictionary later?" he said. "Sorry, man I'm really busy," I said. "Oh, alright, I just thought I would show you how good I am at drawing you." "Excuse me?" I replied. "Yeah, your green eyes really shine when I use my Crayolas."

I got off the elevator and walked the rest of the way.

A Forest in my Belly

When I was in 1st grade and learning about plants, I decided to take matters into my own hands. So I learned that plants grow when you have dirt, seeds, water and sunlight. This is agreed upon universally. I grew up in a place with little dirt or sunlight so I thought that I would do it myself. I bought some dirt and seeds. Then I opened my science book.

The first sentence of the "How To Grow Your Own Plants!" section was: Get some dirt and seeds. Check. The second sentence was "Put the seeds in the dirt." Hmm...I decided to eat the dirt and subsequently eat the seeds. OK Check. The third sentence was "Now water the dirt." I went to the sink, filled up my Bebop and Rocksteady cup and drank it. That's all it said.

I thought I was a genius. In a matter of days I would be growing a forest in my belly. Turns out I was wrong. I forgot the sunlight.