The Misanthrope’s Lament

I think from those I better run
Who call me sweetie, dear or hun
And some more who take the cake
Liars, hypocrites and flakes
Bratty kids on my playdates
The vain and the forever late
I also would strongly oppose
Those who pick their teeth and nose
Those who think they’ve all the answers
Show apparent lack of manners
The slow to answer texts and calls
And those who get back not at all
Those who aren’t very bright
And swing too far to left or right
And then I find it quite repelling
Those who lack grammar and spelling
The mean, the picky, the conformists
I’d go on the list’s enormous
Yet I stand lone and bereft
Only to find there’s no one left

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Motivational Speaking For the Unmotivated

Megan sat there watching the expression in Wanda’s eyes run the gamut from awe to disappointment to disgust. But even worse than that was the cold steely eye of the iPhone in Wanda’s hands, taking it all in with no way for Megan to stop it. It was then that Megan started to regret snorting that line of coke off the Korean executive’s cock at 3 o clock that morning. But, if she really thought about it, this was just an inevitable end to something that had been put into motion way before she even took her first shot of tequila last night.

The truth was, Megan really didn’t ever want to do anything. She was perfectly content sitting at home in her sweat pants lazing around in her unmade bed, eating Twinkies, browsing social media and waiting for unemployment checks to roll in…which is exactly what she would have been doing had it not been for the slight inconvenience of the fact that there were no unemployment checks coming in and hadn’t been for the past three months. That is what brought on the depression which was slightly alleviated by the appearance of little numbers in the notifications box in whatever social media platform she happened to be on.

It was around this time that J. Lo came to Megan in a dream (although it may have been a video on Facebook, no one is really quite sure). J.Lo went on to tell her how even someone as talentless as herself, could make it in the world if she just believed. Megan thought about the dream a long time before coming to the conclusion that the blonde hair J. Lo was sporting really didn’t suit her at all. But later on in the day, J Lo’s words started to resonate with her and so she started posting inane messages on social media platforms like “your mind is your best friend and your worst enemy”, “you are so much more than what you see in the mirror” and “sexy is a state of mind”. Pretty soon, Megan found that she had much more than numbers in her notifications box. She had thousands and thousands of followers.

The time had come. She needed to take action. She didn’t even have to pick up the phone to book the first Megan Landry Motivational Speaking for The Unmotivated Conference. The wheels were in motion.

At Megan’s first conference, she didn’t bother to prepare a speech. She scoured her brain for clever internet memes. She quoted a couple of Bon Jovi songs. The conference ended with everyone in attendance joining her on stage for a rousing rendition of ‘I Will Survive’. She was a huge success.

The money started rolling in. So much so, in fact, that her accountant started advising her to give some away to charity. Which is why, when Megan got a phone call from The Plight Of The Injured Iguanas Foundation, asking if she would donate an in home consultation to the highest bidder, (tax deductible mind you) she readily agreed.

The receptionist at The Injured Iguana did a great job of reminding Megan about her upcoming appointment with Wanda who had bid a whopping $1000 to meet Megan at her apartment at 9:00 on Friday morning for the consult. Unfortunately, it was Megan who dropped the ball. Every time she was about to enter the date down in her computer calendar, she was immediately sidetracked by the window that came up which automatically defaulted to Kim Kardashian’s Twitter page.

When Megan’s alarm started going off at 9 AM on Friday, she wished for death as she hit it repeatedly. When it didn’t stop it’s incessant buzzing, she realized it was the doorbell. She crawled out of bed in hopes that whoever it was would go the hell away, if only so that she could return to her desired state of unconsciousness. But when she saw Wanda, it all came flooding back to her.

As the two sat in Megan’s kitchen, Megan struggled to decipher Wanda’s words but she just continued to sound more and more to her like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Megan, meanwhile, battled what could have easily have been the worst hangover of all time, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was still a bit drunk. She struggled to think of something prophetic to say but she was rendered stupid from the lasting effects of the alcohol not to mention the sickening feeling in her stomach.

The Youtube video shows her saying something unintelligible. Some think it was “yolo” while others claim it was “oh no”. That is a debate that raged on for many months until it was eclipsed by the great internet controversy of whether the dress was blue or white. No matter in any case, as with the words came up rivers of vomit most of which ended up on Wanda’s new pencil skirt which she had purchased just for the occasion. I hear Megan is now gainfully employed at a McDonald’s in Pasadena.

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The Fennelly’s Diner

Some couples take vacations. Some have children. My parents opened up a restaurant. Well, I don’t know if that was what they thought would be THEEE THING to save their failing marriage but, in any case, here were these two people who seemingly hated each other, working together every day and going home every night, and now they had something else to fight about.

And fight they did…much to the delight of the many patrons who would line up around the block for our meh manicotti and processed penne. But it wasn’t the food they were coming for, it was the entertainment. And they got their money’s worth. Every night.

I can’t tell you how many times I’d come out of the kitchen, my parents hurled obscenities echoing through the dining room. I’d see the dirty looks diners gave each other if clanging silverware disturbed the hush, lest they miss a muffled word and go home without getting the juicy details of the altercation du jour. Other patrons tried to look nonchalant as they crept away from the wall, discreetly putting down the water glass they were holding up to their ear. Then, my parents would emerge, as if on cue, my mother’s tear stained face, my father with mashed potatoes in his hair.

Of course there was no respite to be had at school. Few made any effort to conceal the ever present vicious gossip. My parents diner was soon dubbed THEE place to go if you were going to break up with someone. It was said that seeing what a relationship could become made the dumpee feel relieved. One of our dishes was even lovingly nicknamed the It’s Not You It’s Me-atloaf.

Other kids said that my parents fighting made their moms and dads feel better about their own imperfect relationships. Chicken blessed. Still others said that the fighting sparked lively debates in their home about who was right and who was wrong. Devil’s Food Advo-cake.

Well, finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I went home and I told my mother and father how much their fighting was bothering me; how it was ruining my life; how I just couldn’t take it any more. The next day they went out and found a marriage counselor.

Mrs. Stuart taught my parents how to get along better. She taught them yoga poses that would helpĀ open up the channels of communication between them. She taught them how to express their feelings in a loving tactful manner.

My parent’s marriage improved over the next few months but it wasn’t strong enough to survive the closing of the restaurant. Six weeks after the doors locked for the last time, the divorce was finalized. I don’t think they ever completely forgave me either.

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Mommy And Daddy Worship Satan-Official Music Video

Folks! You’ve read the poem,you’ve seen the band, you’ve heard the music…now here it is, the official music video! (Lyrics below for those who haven’t already read them a thousand times).

I hoped they wouldn’t notice but
My friends suspicion’s roused
They ask me why I never let them
Come play at my house
It looks as if I may have to
Invite them to my home
And pray dad doesn’t greet then when
He’s wearing his black robe

The coast is clear they wonder what
The worry on my face meant
When suddenly a chanting starts
To rise up from the basement
Why can’t I be a normal kid
It’s so much less complex
To say I think it’s just my mom
And father having sex

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.

And before I know it they
Are running to explore
And follow the odd noises that
Are coming from the floor
And soon they find my parents
In their favorite recreation
Conjuring up spirits in
An evil incantation

And daddy says “Oh visitors
Well isn’t that just nice?”
I hope he doesn’t think them virgins
To be sacrificed
But mom ignores my gestures and
She sports an evil grin her
Mouth waters as she says “We’re happy
To have you for dinner!”

I fear they will accept her offer
And agree to stay
Do they not know she means to have them
As the main entree?
I’m just about to tell them run
But briefly I think twice
A break from eye of newt and toe
Of frog would sure be nice

My mother says “I guess I just
Don’t get your generation”
And that’s what life is like when mom
And daddy worship Satan.

Zack Is A Poser

We all knew Zack was one bad punk
His mohawk was the flyest
His jacket bore the latest bands
His spikes stood up the highest

But one day we were hanging out
And vibin’ on Joe Strummer
He said he loved The Clash but man
He couldn’t name the drummer

It took some years to live it down
Punk friends left Zack rejected
So Zack soon took a different form
He came back resurrected

His mohawk he would grow out long
His plaid pants for spandex
Cause it was heavy metal for
Which Zack was now obsessed

But soon the whispers came about
In those small vicious circles
Zack didn’t know the seventh guy
Who sang lead in Deep Purple

Then indie, Zack in hipster phase
With beard found things ironic
Next goth then grunge then new wave and
Just briefly electronic

But each time someone sniffed him out
Twas something not quite kosher
For Zack was neither metal, punk
But simply just a poser

Zack still knows naught bout music but
I guess it’s no big diff
Since now he listen to Ms. Spears
Bieber and Taylor Swift

And wears a 3 piece suit to work
Like some hot shot breadwinner
But really does the 9-5
Employed as a sign spinner.

Inspired by a blogversation I had with Joanne and My Life Lived Full.

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Photobombed In Brooklyn

Archie hated people. He didn’t want to talk to them, he didn’t want to live with them, and he certainly didn’t want to work with them. As a result, he shunned society by living in a cardboard box under the L on 86th St. in Brooklyn, and that suited him just fine.

One day, when Archie was out scavenging for food, he caught sight of Alice. He wasn’t sure what it was about Alice…perhaps the disproportionate amount of doughy flesh on the backsides of her arms, but she reminded him of his dear mama who he’d last seen when she told him he was birthed in a dumpster in the back of the Coney Island AppleBees. That was right before she ran off with Mario from Mario’s Pizza and Doughnuts on the M75 to fulfill her dreams of becoming the Donut Queen of Long Island. But in any case, his heart, which he hertofore had dismissed as no longer capable of doing much more than keeping him alive, albeit in the flimsiest of manners, skipped a beat. He felt an undeniable urge to bond with this human Alice of the Fleshy Arms and he began running towards her.

It just so happened thatĀ Alice was just in the middle of snapping a picture with her cousin Mavis who she hadn’t seen in a dog’s age (her words not mine). Archie came close but never did quite make it to Alice, who he was hoping to embrace, by the time the picture was taken.

Now, unbeknownst to Archie, Alice was on the the tail end of a 15 minute bout of fame spurred when a Youtube video of her laughing maniacally at a wind up parakeet that shouted out swear words in Chinese somehow went viral.

Also unbeknownst to Archie, the photo of her and Mavis would end up on Alice’s Facebook page bearing the caption #photobombedinbrooklyn.

So while this picture of Archie photobombing Alice was getting shared, tweeted and retweeted, Archie’s heart strings were still acting up. He hence ended up photobombing many, including a man who’s balding pate recalled memories of his favorite uncle, Heroin Harry and a particularly photogenic chihuahua who reminded him of the feral cat who used to claw through his dumpsters til old ma threw a shoe at it.

So Archie’s fame rose in social media circles by fans who called him Photobombing Phil, (because they didn’t know his name was Archie) and all sorts started to line up on 86th St. outside Archie’s cardboard box, taking photos that they hoped Archie would photobomb. The masses included washed up actresses wishing to revamp their careers, hipsters who found Phil delightfully ironic and debutantes who decided being Photobombed by Archie would be the height of slumming it. There were even some who brought their sick relatives believing Archie had strange and magical healing powers. Bootleggers sold shirts that said things like I Got Photobombed in Brooklyn and I Took A Still With Phil!

But all efforts were in vain as Archie soon decided that his misadventures were due to telepathic messages coming to his brain through iPhone batteries as well as a bad case of acid reflux from the subway fumes. So Archie decided to relocate to an abandoned industrial warehouse in Williamsburg were he was killed in an unfortunate accident involving a button holing machine he wrongly assumed was inoperative. His body was never found.

This is a picture of me and my cousin with my kids in Brooklyn getting photobombed. It inspired the blog which is otherwise fictionalized and, no, my cousin does not have disproportionately fleshy arms.

This is a picture of me and my cousin with my kids in Brooklyn getting photobombed. It inspired the blog which is otherwise fictionalized and, no, my cousin does not have disproportionately fleshy arms.