Mixed Nuts

A hodge podge of thoughts for the day:

I refuse to use emoticons in email or elsewhere. I prefer to go with “smarmyquotes” to indicate smarminess. Or parenthasides (I do this a lot). I also just really think it’s fun when the receiver of the email doesn’t get my intended tone at all and then it’s like we are in an episode of Three’s Company.

I recently read the book “Still Alice” by Lisa Genova. I wasn’t a big fan of the book but the subject material dealt with early onset Alzheimer’s Disease. How Alzheimer’s works is you slowly start to lose your short term memory, and then your long term memory goes. So early on you will often misplace your keys, or your purse, or forget where you parked your car. If you find yourself doing this kind of stuff on a regular basis, don’t worry, the chances are you don’t have Alzheimer’s Disease. You are probably just stupid.

My Grandmother had Alzheimer’s, and I spent about a month with her before I moved to Chicago over ten years ago. I did it because I wasn’t going to see her much after I moved, and I knew she wouldn’t be around much longer (she passed away a few years ago.) It was great to spend so much time with her. One of the highlights for me was going to the little diner with her every day, and every day she would look at the menu and wonder aloud what to order. “Hmm, that fish sandwich sounds good. I wonder if I’m going to like that?” She said this every day. After the third day it was very satisfying to be able to tell her “You should get the fish, Grandma, I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love it.”

On another note, macaroni and weiners is one of the worst lunches ever. Even if your Granny puts in an extra helping of “love” (which is really just extra weiners, I believe). I suggest going to the diner and ordering the fish sandwich.

I always use the word “weiner” when referring to a hot dog. I also always use “underpants” instead of underwear. Someone should make a list of comic word replacements.

I’ve been making a big push in my life to replace the word “pants” with the word “trousers.” It just sounds classy.

If I had super speed like The Flash I would always do this little joke where I’d say something like, “Oh, hey, I forgot my reading glasses. I’ll be right back.” Then I would just turn around in the room and pull them out of my pocket and put them on and then turn back around and act like I am out of breath like I had just used my super speed when it was blatantly obvious I did no such thing. Then, when no one would laugh I would point out to everyone what I just did in case they were stupid and didn’t realize I didn’t really use my super speed. This joke would kill me every time.

Speaking of superheroes, if I was Batman or Green Lantern or any of the other superheroes, every time my toilet got clogged and I had to plunge it I would always say to myself, “This is a job for Superman!” And then I would chuckle quietly and keep plunging the toilet.

One of my favorite email jokes is I like to type something like this “aasdraewb u0jp[io asl;jdkf al;k wjr japviodj” and then after that “I typed that last sentence with my penis.”

I’ve lately been wondering what the end of the meal would be like if you dined with Brett Favre:

“Wow what a great meal. No dessert for me. I’m definitely done eating.”

“Hold on a minute. Do you have cheesecake? I guess I’ll have a slice of cheesecake.”

“No, wait, I’ve had plenty to eat. Never mind.”

“Hang on, waiter! Yeah, I was wondering if you had any peach cobbler? I might have a slice of that.”

“No, no, forget it. That just sounds like too much food. I’m definitely done.”

“Aw, shoot, can I just look at that dessert menu one more time?”

If you are a male over the age of 25, can read, are single and like to have sex, I think you should join a book club. Seriously. I am the only male member of my book club. Generally, once a month it is me in a room full of about 10-12 drunk women, talking about their feelings. And by feelings I mean sex. My wife is also in the book club, so I only get the sex-doing privileges with her, but if I was single I would be in about five book clubs per month, tearing it up like Barney Stinson. It’s to the point where they don’t even realize I’m a guy (insert your own small penis joke here) and they talk about whatever they want like I’m not even in the room. It’s like getting a free look into their playbook once a month.

So yeah, foreplay is what women really want.

And by foreplay, I mean talking. Lots of talking.

My good friend and sitcom spec writing partner Rick Stoeckel had this posted at McSweeney's today. Check it out here.