Here are some things

How I trolled a guy on the Internet.

            Normally I just complain about things and I will get back to it–I have a list on my phone of things that bother me on a daily basis. So instead of my usual rants, I have a story. This is my greatest story of being a troll on the Internet.

It was around 2002-2003 and I was a member of a music forum online. We would discuss playing, recording, and writing music. Obviously, everyone flocked to the “General Discussion” area of the forum to discuss a plethora of topics. There was a kid that always fought with everybody and made sure to disagree with everyone–about everything.  He was a staunch republican and a conservative Christian, even though he didn’t really act the part most of the time. This fueled everyone’s hatred toward him. For the life of me, I cannot remember how I got it, but I managed to get my hand’s on this kid’s password. Luckily he was one of those people that used the same password for all of the websites that he frequented–including AIM.

It was late one night and we had been arguing on the forum yet again. It was probably about gun control, religion, or something like abortion. Who knows? The important part is that everyone was fighting and everyone was angry. I saw that he signed off of AIM and I knew it was my chance to be the best troll I could be. I didn’t have a plan, but I signed in anyways. I was going to improvise.

After I signed in, a friend messaged me with something like “I thought you were going to bed.” This was my chance. I decided this was my only chance so I rolled with it. I wish I had the chat log but it went something like this:

Me: Yeah, I was going to, but I don’t know…
Him: Oh ok. Is there something wrong?
Me: I don’t know anymore. Things are just… confusing.
Him: How so?

            I decided I was going to “come out” to his friend. I kept talking to him and kept alluding to something being wrong and being confused and I was going to keep it up until he just asked me what exactly was wrong. He bit the bait and asked. I told him that I felt like he was a good friend and told him that I didn’t want him to think differently about me. He assured me that he wouldn’t. Then I told him. I said that I had known for a while that I was attracted to men, and I confirmed it with a church friend. I had “come out to myself” within the last couple of years and it was tearing me apart.

           After a while, he assured me that he was okay with my lifestyle and that he, too, had feelings like that. I told him that that comforted me, but I didn’t want to discuss his feelings, as I was not even comfortable with my own. He told me that he understands and assured me it would all work out. I kept telling him that I didn’t think it would work out. I was majorly depressed. This made him even more drawn into my story.

           I told him I had to get off of the computer and he asked if he could call me. He told me he wanted to make sure I was safe. I thought this would be the perfect way to end the conversation so I agreed. I came up with a plan. I didn’t want the phone to ring and wake everyone up (it was about 3 AM) so I told him that I would turn all of the phones on silent (this is the days before cell phones) and he would call me. The plan was once I signed off, he was to wait 1 minute then call me. I told him to just let the phone ring and ring and I would answer my phone a short time after that. This would ensure that my family did not wake up and that we could talk.

           I wish I could have been there for the result but the post on the forum the following morning was great. “To whoever hacked into my AIM account,” was the title. He followed up with “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to come out to a friend of mine on AIM, then get him to call my house and wake up my ENTIRE family from a good night’s sleep! What is wrong with you people?” The plan went perfectly. I eventually came out as the guy that did it all a few years later and all was well.

           Over all it was the single greatest trolling moment of my life. I do feel bad that his friend started to come out of the closet to me, but to this day the guy (who I still talk to from time to time) has never mentioned his friend coming out to him so I’m pretty sure his secret was safe with me. I am not one of the best pranksters out there but this is most definitely one of the greater pranks that I’ve ever pulled.

I’d Like To Thank The Academy

      I was in the room as my girlfriend was watching music videos the other day and I saw a commercial for a country music award ceremony. They had a lot of cutaways of people saying, “And the buckle goes to…!” in the commercial. I took notice to the fact that the physical award that winners were given was a belt buckle. A belt buckle.  I think it’s time for an Amber Alert. Where have all of the actual awards gone?We have run out of legitimate awards. There are no more trophies and statues to give people. We now have to give away inanimate objects, of no significance whatsoever, in order to put on our red carpet events!

      I blame the Fox’s annual Teen Choice Awards. They really popularized this stupidity by giving a human being a full sized surfboard as an award. Do you think Jim Carrey wants to drag a full surfboard home, or anywhere for that matter? I doubt it. He’s too busy doing literally anything else on the planet–which, I’m sure, involves a Porsche and some sort of super model. Why in the hell do teenagers have a say as to who gets an award anyway? I thought we were supposed to respect our elders because they are older and wiser. Take a look at past Teen Choice Award winners. You’ll see exactly what I mean.

      But I digress. I can only imagine that the executive see a great profit in award ceremonies, so they think of inanimate objects to give to attention craving celebrities. In order to sell the advertising at the premium rate, the network must put on a premium product. Instead of running the normal reality show about a millionaire from “the sticks” marrying the next-great-pop-sensation, while surviving on a deserted island, they put on the ceremonies and sell advertising space at a premium rate. So they gather a bunch of big heads in an auditorium and give them objects that have literally no significance what so ever. Problem solved. Except for the problem that people are getting belt buckles.

      I think I will start an award ceremony that gives away a multitude of paint swatches from The Home Depot. I will let the winners pick their favorite color, starting with the most important awards, obviously. The winners for “Best Audio Commentary on a Documentary” and “Greatest Number of Sandwiches Eaten At Kraft Services” will be left with colors like “Horse Manure Brown” and “Yellow Snow.” But hey–paint swatches.

      What am I even talking about? At this point I am not sure. Now that I have got that off of my chest, I think it’s time to leave. Until next time, kids.

Stop calling me. I am not available to talk.

            I do not enjoy talking on the phone and I am a firm believer in the text messages. Those that know me know that I cannot stand talking on the phone and I feel that if I were born 50 years earlier than I had been that there would be a plethora of men that would agree.  But now men are women and women are men and everyone joyously talks on the phone. Not I.  I don’t care if it is my mother or father, girlfriend, or my best-friend that I haven’t heard from in years, I’d rather not waste my time with the telephone glued to my ear when I can use it for a much better purpose; Angry Birds.

            In all seriousness, though, I have a quota while talking on the phone. I start to get annoyed with the person that I speaking with (Read: listening to) after roughly 7 minutes. After ten, I stop caring what they are saying and get off of the phone as quickly as possible–unless it’s my father. I love him dearly, but he doesn’t hear the words “Okay, I’ve got to go now.” It really is mind blowing.

            But I digress. With the advent of not so new technologies like text messaging and Facebook/Twitter (they’ve been here a while so use them), there is almost no reason to talk on the phone. So why don’t more people use these new technologies? Oh they do. They just seem to have more to say.

            My phone bill states that I used exactly 219 minutes last month. That is 219 minutes too many, but it’s on it’s way down. That’s an average of a little over 7 minutes per day. Not a lot to the average person. Perfect for me. I did, however, use 1800+ text messages to communicate with coworkers, friends, and family. You’re probably thinking, “I used at least that many text messages to talk to my friends too! What’s this guy going on about?” ­I will tell you.  For some reason the use of Facebook, Twitter, and text messages exponentially rises but the use of the telephone stays the same. Last month, I had no issues meeting up with anyone, making plans, or any other logistical undertakings that I came across and I’ll tell you why: because I have a brain. And you do too! It is not hard to text someone with the address of where you are in order to meet up and hang out. It’s quite easy.

            I get it in parts. The doctor needs to call you to confirm appointments; you might have to call your school or work to figure something out; or (this is for women) you might have to call your mother 46 times per day.  But how about we, as people, try to waste less time talking, and put it toward something useful like letting me listen to an audio book instead of interrupting me every single time I drive in my car.

            The argument that I hear is that it’s less personal. You don’t actually talk to anyone and soon that will lead to robots will taking over the world or something like that. There are always robots. At least that’s what my friends say. The same friends that go out to the bar on Friday and the very next morning have their pictures from the night before uploaded to Facebook from their digital camera. Obviously being careful to avoid the reposts from the live tweeting that they did the night before so as not to be redundant.  You get my point.

            I just want to ask that instead of calling just stop and think. Is this something that the other person wants or needs to hear? If not, save the formality and shoot them a text. I am sure that they will get back to you. If not, then it probably wasn’t that important to begin with.  Regardless of the fact, stop calling me. I’m trying to listen to a podcast or something.

Women’s Purses: The Abyss

Any time I hear the words, “Honey can you grab my [anything] out of my purse for me?” I immediately cringe. In the beginning of my relationship I used to try and be a good boyfriend and find whatever it is that she was looking for; be it chap stick, a hair brush, or an ’86 Fleetwood. After 3 years in our relationship, I have taken a stand. I will never open my girlfriend’s purse again. Period.

That said, I’m sure the next time she asks I will dive right in because that’s what men have to do. For those of you just entering a relationship, I will offer some advice. Since I am sure that you will, in fact, be going into The Abyss when your lady friend asks you to, I will give you a few pointers on how to make it out alive.

In order to properly look for something in a purse you must:

1. Have a ladder. If you don’t have a ladder, don’t even think about going in. In the beginning of a relationship it is hard to realize the sheer vastness of a purse. Once you take the plunge for the first time, you will realize how hard it is to emerge. You need a ladder.

2. Invest in a good flashlight! You wouldn’t go into a cave without a flashlight, would you? Of course not. I would invest in a good flashlight with rechargeable batteries or a headlamp like the Chilean miners sported during their 2010 adventures. You will shave hours of searching off of your days with the investment of a good light source.

3. Bring an MRE. For those of you that don’t know what an MRE is, it stands for “Meal Ready to Eat.” I still keep an MRE in my pantry to this day just in case my girl asks me to grab something out of her purse. When I open that purse, I might be in there for 6 to 7 hours at a time. That’s a long time to go with out nutrition. You’re already burning hundreds of calories looking for that hidden hairbrush so bring an MRE with you to replenish those spent calories.

4. If you have the means, bring a satellite phone. It goes without saying that this is a dangerous mission. Seeing as you’re probably in a new relationship, you will blindly go in. However, if you have the means to purchase a satellite phone, please do so. If the ladder falls into The Abyss, then at least you’ll have a telephone to contact somebody when you realize that you’re stranded. This could be the only thing that saves your life.

5. If all else fails, fake an illness. If you’re not comfortable taking the plunge—and I don’t think anyone would blame you—you can always fake illness. When she asks you to grab something out of her purse just drop to the ground and start rolling around shouting “OH MY GOD MY EYES!”. I can assure you the confusion of your mystery illness will cause her to have a panic attack and forget about what she needed from her purse. When you’re sure that she has forgotten, get up and let her know that you’re okay. The sheer joy that she will have will buy you a little time until the next time she needs you to go into her purse again.

If you follow these rules you will be able to add precious hours to the end of your life in the form of time saved digging through a purse. Beyond that, you will be able to be one of the few men that have the ability to dive in and come out victorious. Now get out there, purse-divers. Get out there and explore.

Top 3 Reasons Why You Should Pee In The Sink.

    I pee in the sink; you should too. There, I said it and I meant it. I’ve been into the sink-peeing scene for a while and let me tell you, it’s been fun. At first people (Read:  Women) are mostly disgusted when I state the fact that I urinate in the same place that they wash their face and hands, but after a while we stop talking about it and they remain disgusted.

            I originally got the idea from the “Ace Man,” Adam Carolla, years ago and have been fighting the good fight ever since. I started doing it as a teenager because my room was in the basement and the laundry sink was a lot closer than the bathroom; after hearing Adam talk about it on Loveline I realized how much time I was wasting by walking all the way up all 11 stairs, then 4 feet down the hallway in my 900 square foot house. I decided enough was enough and started using the laundry sink.

            After I purchased my own 1220 square foot mansion (with master suite), I kept up with the practice. Why? It just makes sense and besides, in my house the sink is closer than the toilet. When I pee in the sink it genuinely disgusts my girlfriend andher disgust genuinely stupefies me.

            Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that it’s disgusting for me to urinate in the same place that I wash my hands, brush my teeth, and generally make myself clean. That is a irrational thought and I will tell you why. Ponder this for a moment: when you wash your face do you ever smother your sink with your face? For argumentative purposes let’s say that you do. Well, Miss Cleanbody, while you’re busy washing the surface of your sink with your clean face, am I standing next to you spraying a shower of urine? No. That said, urine is essentially sterile so there would be no chance of anything bad happening to your precious little face.

            Now that I got that argument out of the way, I’m going to give you the top 3 reasons to piss in the sink.

1.     It’s convenient. It’s at waist height for the average male, which makes it a perfect reason to pee in to.  There is no reason to stand and pee into a toilet. According to women, we miss 90% of the time anyway, so why even attempt?  As Homer Simpson said, “You tried your best and failed miserably. The lesson is: never try.”

2.     It saves the environment. The average toilet flush uses 3.5 gallons of water. The average sink-pee uses less than a half-gallon, assuming you let the water run full volume the whole time.  The argument to this is “Don’t flush when you pee. Only when you go number two.” The reason this argument has no validity is that a toilet becomes stained and you have to waste precious time cleaning it. Pee in the sink. Save time and the environment.

3.     You probably pee in the shower. How is this any different? A vast majority of men and women pee in the shower. For women—the biggest opponent to sink-peeing, mind you—this is bad. They do not have the physical ability to aim, which often times results in a mess.  Sink-peeing is not much different than shower-peeing for men, except for the fact that less water is being used, and that saves the world.

I guess what I am trying to say is sink-peeing saves the world. End.