My friend Max came up with a fun idea that will likely go nowhere. Personalized insults. All you do is fill out a little profile and maybe email me a photo. Then, Max and I get to work insulting you in as many ways possible.
Also, it's a great gift idea. Why not outsource your hatred? Let us goof on your friends for you.
Here is all we need...
Name of person to be insulted:
Occupation:
Age:
City:
Race:
Sexuality:
Any dumb interests or hobbies they may have:
Any specific insult areas you'd like us to focus on:
Anything else we should know (Embarrassing story? Topics that anger them?)
Hey it's free, what do you have to lose besides a friend? Also, this posting comes with a built in insult. If no one takes advantage of the service, bam--Max and I get insulted. This is win win for everyone.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sorry, I was thinking about something more enjoyable
A girl actually said this to me after she spaced out during a conversation the other day. That stung. But it's fun to look back on. Anyway, this is my blog. Yeah, well, I don't like yours either. I'm mulling possible themes. Among the candidates:
1. Retaliation
2. Career Whims I've Recently Abandoned
3. How My Tummy's Been Doing
Also, I will probably try to use big words from time to time so people smarter than me reading this think "Aw, the little guy's really breaking a sweat."
I figure if I use a lot of paragraph breaks that will appeal to the younger readers. Hey younger readers. I can score you beer and what looks like meth if you agree to drink it all in my apartment.
There's a pattern on my living room rug that looks like either an Asian woman with a mask on or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who's into flowers. I might need to cover that spot up with a smaller rug, a smaller rug without patterns.
You were expecting more, weren't you? Okay. I can provide that to you. I moved to New York City (spelled out so I don't come across like a complete dick just yet. Although maybe spelling it out is a dickbag move on its own. Feel free to weigh in.) in May to try to pursue a career in comedy. I figure this is a new tactic in the field, moving to New YC and signing up for comedy classes. I bet I'll look back on these early days fondly when I'm a 50 year old tax accountant.
One thing I've learned--stand up is no bed of primroses or similar metaphor. It's easy to crack jokes around a small group of 4 to 5 super drunk people who can barely hear what you're saying because the music is so loud. Or people you've known for a long time who can barely wait for your sentence to end so they can make fun of something you did when you were 19.
A group of 9 sober people in a bright room on a Monday at 6:45? That's a different story. Also, I would recommend remembering your jokes.
So maybe comedy writing could be something. That would be fun. I'm giving that a shot too, by doing things such as writing "spec scripts" and fantasizing about these scripts being read and immediately embraced by all the top minds in Hollywood. I figure the best possible thing that could happen is "Mac" from It's Always Sunny in Philadephia flies to New York to tell me I'm the new executive producer of the show, starting tomorrow. We feast on crab legs and then Danny DeVito lands a helicopter on the restaurant. The cops are kind of pissed but they deal.
Then Danny DeVito (yes, he's wearing a tuxedo) flies me to LA in the helicopter and we briefly pretend we're in Flight of the Navigator before I nap in the back. West Coast Danny puts me up in his guest house (for now) where the rebellious daughter from Uncle Buck is packing a bong and starting to get ready for bed. Before we start making out Devito demands I share a couple episode ideas and doubles over with laughter at my stories from college. Rhea keeps texting him but after awhile he just puts his phone on silent.
Failing that, I may continue blogging.
1. Retaliation
2. Career Whims I've Recently Abandoned
3. How My Tummy's Been Doing
Also, I will probably try to use big words from time to time so people smarter than me reading this think "Aw, the little guy's really breaking a sweat."
I figure if I use a lot of paragraph breaks that will appeal to the younger readers. Hey younger readers. I can score you beer and what looks like meth if you agree to drink it all in my apartment.
There's a pattern on my living room rug that looks like either an Asian woman with a mask on or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who's into flowers. I might need to cover that spot up with a smaller rug, a smaller rug without patterns.
You were expecting more, weren't you? Okay. I can provide that to you. I moved to New York City (spelled out so I don't come across like a complete dick just yet. Although maybe spelling it out is a dickbag move on its own. Feel free to weigh in.) in May to try to pursue a career in comedy. I figure this is a new tactic in the field, moving to New YC and signing up for comedy classes. I bet I'll look back on these early days fondly when I'm a 50 year old tax accountant.
One thing I've learned--stand up is no bed of primroses or similar metaphor. It's easy to crack jokes around a small group of 4 to 5 super drunk people who can barely hear what you're saying because the music is so loud. Or people you've known for a long time who can barely wait for your sentence to end so they can make fun of something you did when you were 19.
A group of 9 sober people in a bright room on a Monday at 6:45? That's a different story. Also, I would recommend remembering your jokes.
So maybe comedy writing could be something. That would be fun. I'm giving that a shot too, by doing things such as writing "spec scripts" and fantasizing about these scripts being read and immediately embraced by all the top minds in Hollywood. I figure the best possible thing that could happen is "Mac" from It's Always Sunny in Philadephia flies to New York to tell me I'm the new executive producer of the show, starting tomorrow. We feast on crab legs and then Danny DeVito lands a helicopter on the restaurant. The cops are kind of pissed but they deal.
Then Danny DeVito (yes, he's wearing a tuxedo) flies me to LA in the helicopter and we briefly pretend we're in Flight of the Navigator before I nap in the back. West Coast Danny puts me up in his guest house (for now) where the rebellious daughter from Uncle Buck is packing a bong and starting to get ready for bed. Before we start making out Devito demands I share a couple episode ideas and doubles over with laughter at my stories from college. Rhea keeps texting him but after awhile he just puts his phone on silent.
Failing that, I may continue blogging.
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