Although it’s obvious, just in case a tiny bit of clarification on the above acronym is needed, it stands for……
Seasons Greetings and I wish everyone who reads this* a very Merry Christmas with a sleigh full of joy, cheer and a small stocking of coal (nobody is perfect)
*I hold no ill tidings towards anyone who doesn’t read this, I am just assuming that they will never know and I would never get credit for it
Once again, Feliz Navidad and remember to celebrate the holidays irresponsibly as overdosing on eggnog and streaking through the neighborhood wrapped in garland provide a great inspiration for 2011 New Year’s Resolutions. (OGFN&RTCTHIAOOE&STTNWIGPAGIF2011NYR)
-pete
Friday, December 24, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Top Dozen "So I Thought's"
I- So I thought, if the chick is gonna take her top off, she should just leave it off for the rest of the movie, I mean if I've seen it once, I've seen it a thousand times
II- So I thought, planning ahead may have helped me find mom a better gift, but picking up one on her birthday will surely allow it to be the freshest
III- So I thought, big people always want to settle disputes with violence, I would do so much better if the resolution was battled through a game of Connect 4
IV- So I thought, if someone ever asked for three things about me, one of them would be that my favorite zoo animal is the orangutan
V- So I thought, if I press deny for the ATM receipt, I can still easily assume that my remaining balance is safely over a million dollars
VI- So I thought, the most difficult part of creating a time machine must be having the patience to wait around for yourself to show up with the instructions
VII- So I thought, I would be great at elevator standup in a medium rise building, I have about seven floors worth of material before I repeat or get awkwardly silent
VIII- So I thought, I could write a 500 page diet book with all the pages blank except one where it reads, we all know if you lay on the couch eating greasy chips all day, you're going to get fat
IX- So I thought, waking up and doing pushups every morning is a great idea the night before
X- So I thought, I get way too proud of myself if I successfully converse with a stranger without saying anything stupid
XI- So I thought, I could predict the future, until I realized my ipod wasn't on shuffle, it was on a playlist I made yesterday with songs I wanted to hear
XII- So I thought, sometimes in life there has to be sacrifice so if I have to murder a live chicken in order to squeeze into my suit pants for an interview, I'll do it
-pete
II- So I thought, planning ahead may have helped me find mom a better gift, but picking up one on her birthday will surely allow it to be the freshest
III- So I thought, big people always want to settle disputes with violence, I would do so much better if the resolution was battled through a game of Connect 4
IV- So I thought, if someone ever asked for three things about me, one of them would be that my favorite zoo animal is the orangutan
V- So I thought, if I press deny for the ATM receipt, I can still easily assume that my remaining balance is safely over a million dollars
VI- So I thought, the most difficult part of creating a time machine must be having the patience to wait around for yourself to show up with the instructions
VII- So I thought, I would be great at elevator standup in a medium rise building, I have about seven floors worth of material before I repeat or get awkwardly silent
VIII- So I thought, I could write a 500 page diet book with all the pages blank except one where it reads, we all know if you lay on the couch eating greasy chips all day, you're going to get fat
IX- So I thought, waking up and doing pushups every morning is a great idea the night before
X- So I thought, I get way too proud of myself if I successfully converse with a stranger without saying anything stupid
XI- So I thought, I could predict the future, until I realized my ipod wasn't on shuffle, it was on a playlist I made yesterday with songs I wanted to hear
XII- So I thought, sometimes in life there has to be sacrifice so if I have to murder a live chicken in order to squeeze into my suit pants for an interview, I'll do it
-pete
Friday, December 10, 2010
A Lesson From Pete Lopez
The lesson I am offering is fairly simple but quite often overlooked. It's not to relax until the getting ready process has been completed. If there is some spare time before work, a pool party, volunteering at a soup kitchen or whatever, then it's a best to prioritize. Don't let lying face down half naked on your mattress or watching a vampire love story hamper straightening a tie, shaving legs or putting on a smock.
A common mistake is noticing they there is an extra hour before departure and believing that’s sufficient for some quality relaxing. Experience has taught me that relaxing minutes tend to rapidly disappear. They’re not painfully counted like when waiting behind a customer at the deli playing every Lotto combination imaginable. In relaxation mode, before you know it, fun time has vanished but yet you’re still in pajamas and have maple syrup in your hair.
To counteract this, my advice is to substitutive getting ready into the first step. This makes a hell of a lot more sense. I bet on numerous occasions rushing around in frenzy resulted because you got carried away with leisure time. Suddenly, you’re forced to cut corners like supplying only the dominant arm with deodorant, leaving on your socks when putting on sandals or driving recklessly with the hazard lights on.
Also something unexpected can occur during preparation forcing even more time to elapse. Maybe eating pancakes caused fatigue, the vampire movie runs long or the drapes catch on fire. In all honesty, it is none of my business what went wrong nor will I confirm if any of these examples are personal. There is no need to embarrass anyone as the point of this is to help everyone arrive at destinations safe, prepared and timely.
As a final note, if you have avoided my advice and lateness is inevitable, never contact the party to inform them. At first this may seem rude but believe me, it's the lesser of two evils. After a successful call is made requesting bonus minutes, the normal tendency is to slip back into a recreational mode. Thus the cycle spins again and you’re logged onto Facebook commenting on a picture of a friend’s hat, sipping a post pancake mimosa or reading a blog that provides blatantly obvious hindsight information. Showing up tardy is impolite but arriving later than an extension is far worse.
Alright let me wrap this up. Unfortunately, sharing this lesson to the world has exceeded the time allotted. I should be showered, dressed and smelling like a peach for a date by now. Luckily, I am remaining calm since I know that passing on a stop for flowers and not warning her of my delay will save me from her anger. I am positive she will applaud the effort I made to be timely.
In conclusion, be on the lookout for future lessons such as “Untied Shoelaces-Deadly Consequences” and “Check Your Face for Shaving Cream before Leaving Home.” Until then, always be ready.
A common mistake is noticing they there is an extra hour before departure and believing that’s sufficient for some quality relaxing. Experience has taught me that relaxing minutes tend to rapidly disappear. They’re not painfully counted like when waiting behind a customer at the deli playing every Lotto combination imaginable. In relaxation mode, before you know it, fun time has vanished but yet you’re still in pajamas and have maple syrup in your hair.
To counteract this, my advice is to substitutive getting ready into the first step. This makes a hell of a lot more sense. I bet on numerous occasions rushing around in frenzy resulted because you got carried away with leisure time. Suddenly, you’re forced to cut corners like supplying only the dominant arm with deodorant, leaving on your socks when putting on sandals or driving recklessly with the hazard lights on.
Also something unexpected can occur during preparation forcing even more time to elapse. Maybe eating pancakes caused fatigue, the vampire movie runs long or the drapes catch on fire. In all honesty, it is none of my business what went wrong nor will I confirm if any of these examples are personal. There is no need to embarrass anyone as the point of this is to help everyone arrive at destinations safe, prepared and timely.
As a final note, if you have avoided my advice and lateness is inevitable, never contact the party to inform them. At first this may seem rude but believe me, it's the lesser of two evils. After a successful call is made requesting bonus minutes, the normal tendency is to slip back into a recreational mode. Thus the cycle spins again and you’re logged onto Facebook commenting on a picture of a friend’s hat, sipping a post pancake mimosa or reading a blog that provides blatantly obvious hindsight information. Showing up tardy is impolite but arriving later than an extension is far worse.
Alright let me wrap this up. Unfortunately, sharing this lesson to the world has exceeded the time allotted. I should be showered, dressed and smelling like a peach for a date by now. Luckily, I am remaining calm since I know that passing on a stop for flowers and not warning her of my delay will save me from her anger. I am positive she will applaud the effort I made to be timely.
In conclusion, be on the lookout for future lessons such as “Untied Shoelaces-Deadly Consequences” and “Check Your Face for Shaving Cream before Leaving Home.” Until then, always be ready.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Doesn’t it suck…..
….. when your boss drops by unannounced and besides pointless small talk
bout the unseasonable weather, he nominates you for a monotonous project
that even an untrained monkey could handle because he is obviously jealous
of your superior looks and fashion sense, nevertheless you bite your
tongue since he is like Lord of the company and spit out a “yes Sir, it’s
my top priority”, although you have no intention of rushing since he’ll
never witness the final output given that it’s being delivered directly to
the client, so after his majesty departs, you toss the project in disgust
towards the “to do area” of your desk to finish before the close of the
business day, but unfortunately it gets shuffled around into a mass of
paperwork because a big weaknesses of yours is maintaining a neat work
station, hence you don’t rediscover the assignment until a week later
while rummaging through that same heap for a Chinese food menu and in fit
of horror think aloud, “Oh shit, I never did this”, however after calming
down, you’re convinced it’s no big deal because you’ll email the client a
baloney story stating that “systems” were down but the malfunctioning G42
processor has just been repaired and the report is coming shortly, thus
you begin effectively working on the task after finishing your chicken and
broccoli, except about a quarter of the way through, your progress smacks
into a brick wall after a vital statistic such as gross average annual dew
point variance gets smeared illegible by duck sauce, therefore you’ll have
to re-request the indecipherable info from the Lord, which will most
likely flare his temper into a rage about why the job wasn’t finished ages
ago and he’ll proclaim you as nothing but a two bit peasant, so in
hypothetical retrospect you contemplate whether you can instead guess the
lacking data as well as create worse case scenarios with your presumptions
ranging from slightly inaccurate to senseless of how much trouble you can
get in and if the reprimand for using the imaginary figures is harsher
then informing management the project was still incomplete due to your
negligence, which leads to conducting a truth or guess option
comparison where you eventually decide on the risky proposition of
approximating the unknown numbers while crossing your fingers in hopes
that the next time you reflect back upon this situation it will be months
later while relaxing on the beach, thinking since you never heard anything
further that it’s safe to assume your estimates were in the right
ballpark, however that night your conscious kicks in causing nightmares
that your charade was the origin of a series of events that led the
company to file bankruptcy and the staff imprisoned in the Lord’s dungeon,
which consequently has you waking in the morning covered in sweat and
anonymously typing a long run-on sentence confessing guilt of illegal
guesstimate tactics in the first degree until a frenzied sprint to work
occurs when you become aware that it will be far more detrimental to your
case if the your highness summons you into his royal office to lecture you
about your incompetence, yet you are unavailable from the tardiness of
writing this idiocy, so you conclude that you better wrap this up, skip
the proof read, throw on a pair of unstained pants and head to work even
though you are certain this ramble is poorly stitched together by commas
and transitions as smoothly as a boy into puberty, but nonetheless
all time has elapsed and you post this blog in it’s present format because
although your heart is not into your “real job”, it surely pays a higher
salary than constructing an elongated sentence that you are clueless as to
whether it should close with a period or question mark?
-anonymous
bout the unseasonable weather, he nominates you for a monotonous project
that even an untrained monkey could handle because he is obviously jealous
of your superior looks and fashion sense, nevertheless you bite your
tongue since he is like Lord of the company and spit out a “yes Sir, it’s
my top priority”, although you have no intention of rushing since he’ll
never witness the final output given that it’s being delivered directly to
the client, so after his majesty departs, you toss the project in disgust
towards the “to do area” of your desk to finish before the close of the
business day, but unfortunately it gets shuffled around into a mass of
paperwork because a big weaknesses of yours is maintaining a neat work
station, hence you don’t rediscover the assignment until a week later
while rummaging through that same heap for a Chinese food menu and in fit
of horror think aloud, “Oh shit, I never did this”, however after calming
down, you’re convinced it’s no big deal because you’ll email the client a
baloney story stating that “systems” were down but the malfunctioning G42
processor has just been repaired and the report is coming shortly, thus
you begin effectively working on the task after finishing your chicken and
broccoli, except about a quarter of the way through, your progress smacks
into a brick wall after a vital statistic such as gross average annual dew
point variance gets smeared illegible by duck sauce, therefore you’ll have
to re-request the indecipherable info from the Lord, which will most
likely flare his temper into a rage about why the job wasn’t finished ages
ago and he’ll proclaim you as nothing but a two bit peasant, so in
hypothetical retrospect you contemplate whether you can instead guess the
lacking data as well as create worse case scenarios with your presumptions
ranging from slightly inaccurate to senseless of how much trouble you can
get in and if the reprimand for using the imaginary figures is harsher
then informing management the project was still incomplete due to your
negligence, which leads to conducting a truth or guess option
comparison where you eventually decide on the risky proposition of
approximating the unknown numbers while crossing your fingers in hopes
that the next time you reflect back upon this situation it will be months
later while relaxing on the beach, thinking since you never heard anything
further that it’s safe to assume your estimates were in the right
ballpark, however that night your conscious kicks in causing nightmares
that your charade was the origin of a series of events that led the
company to file bankruptcy and the staff imprisoned in the Lord’s dungeon,
which consequently has you waking in the morning covered in sweat and
anonymously typing a long run-on sentence confessing guilt of illegal
guesstimate tactics in the first degree until a frenzied sprint to work
occurs when you become aware that it will be far more detrimental to your
case if the your highness summons you into his royal office to lecture you
about your incompetence, yet you are unavailable from the tardiness of
writing this idiocy, so you conclude that you better wrap this up, skip
the proof read, throw on a pair of unstained pants and head to work even
though you are certain this ramble is poorly stitched together by commas
and transitions as smoothly as a boy into puberty, but nonetheless
all time has elapsed and you post this blog in it’s present format because
although your heart is not into your “real job”, it surely pays a higher
salary than constructing an elongated sentence that you are clueless as to
whether it should close with a period or question mark?
-anonymous
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Top Dozen "So I Told"
Since my last list of "so I saids" was so successful (in my mind), I thought let me do a list of "so I tolds." They are inferior to the last batch cause I kind of feel announcing who they are intended to diminishes the statement. Anyway, let me close this introduction because it's never an idea to tell an audience that what they are about to read sucks more than the previous. As a final note, any of this list that makes me look irresponsible is highly exaggerated and you are better off thinking the opposite is true
I- so I told my barber, I had no idea there was a big pimple on the back of my neck, I felt nothing when you repeatedly mowed over it with the razor
II- so I told my accountant, I write a blog that has 5 followers, please list my laptop, paper and my author writing robe as tax write offs
III- so I told my ex-girlfriend, when I said I think we should see other people I meant just me, you should still be in remorse
IV- so I told my boyfriend, I am not gay, I just make believe you have a female penis
VI- so I told my mugger, all I have is a hundred, the least you can do is give me some change back
VII- so I told my toaster, for the millionth time, it's not a smart idea for us to shower together
VIII- so I told my class, if anyone has any questions, I am sure they are great ones. Farewell
IX- so I told my bartender, when you're calling me a cab home then you might as well call my boss too cause I ain't making to work tomorrow
X- so I told my dentist, I'd rather be at the dentist then here
XI- so I told my guest, of course the bathroom appears dirty, I haven't cleaned it in months
XII- so I told my roommate, be careful when you get home, I have frozen the hallway and am holding a curling tournament
I- so I told my barber, I had no idea there was a big pimple on the back of my neck, I felt nothing when you repeatedly mowed over it with the razor
II- so I told my accountant, I write a blog that has 5 followers, please list my laptop, paper and my author writing robe as tax write offs
III- so I told my ex-girlfriend, when I said I think we should see other people I meant just me, you should still be in remorse
IV- so I told my boyfriend, I am not gay, I just make believe you have a female penis
VI- so I told my mugger, all I have is a hundred, the least you can do is give me some change back
VII- so I told my toaster, for the millionth time, it's not a smart idea for us to shower together
VIII- so I told my class, if anyone has any questions, I am sure they are great ones. Farewell
IX- so I told my bartender, when you're calling me a cab home then you might as well call my boss too cause I ain't making to work tomorrow
X- so I told my dentist, I'd rather be at the dentist then here
XI- so I told my guest, of course the bathroom appears dirty, I haven't cleaned it in months
XII- so I told my roommate, be careful when you get home, I have frozen the hallway and am holding a curling tournament
Friday, November 12, 2010
Anybody but Me (Part 1 in a possible series)
After many successful/unread pieces available in my repertoire, I am beginning to feel a bit self-centered. The dominant personality discussed in my literature always seems to be me. I am the snobbish critic, the swashbuckling prince, the seductive mistress or whatever else costume I care to dress. I never build up or mention characters such as Steve, Waverly Lane or Lance the Viking. Although I am convinced that my adventures are noteworthy, I fear developing a reputation as an egotistical writer hogging all of the attention.
To prevent the impression of the Earth orbiting around me, from this word forward, I will shed my narcissistic ways and steer away from writing about the nonsense that circles around in my head. Instead I will develop other individuals that engulf integral parts of my work so that there’s less “I” and more “he, she and plants.” Guys wearing caps, females in sundresses and flamboyant foliage will converse about hot topic issues like political campaigns, religious beliefs and the decline in clowns. I mean, earlier today I had an interaction with a notorious Subway sandwich employee sporting a badge with Eric on it. Let me narrate a tale about the epic battle of wits we shared.
From an end of the line position, I deducted that his sporadic facial hair put him at the age of a high school student and that his hair net imprisoned a wild amount of blonde locks. Most of his uniform was shielded by a black baggy cloak which was perfect for concealing a spellbook or orb. As a whole, he gave off an aura of confidence as I observed him handling meat and laying down cheese squares.
Alright, now that I have unraveled enough traits of this evil young man to construct a portrait, let me carry on with how the altercation took place. While I was patiently waiting on line, my mind hosted a tournament between eligible deli meats. As Eric put on a fresh pair of magic (mostly plastic) gloves, he inquired “What would you like Sir?”
His voice awakened me from internal sandwich combat. With a thrilling slay of Turkey, Ham won the trophy and the heart of the king so to the best of my knowledge, I responded “Ham please.”
That is when things started to go awry and Eric the Sorcerer began his mind play. He spun around to make my order but it appeared that the meat that he was spreading on my bread was chicken. In a fit of confusion, my brain started questioning me with “Did I order chicken by mistake? Did he mishear hen rather than ham? Maybe my subconscious secretly prefers poultry?”
It took a few moments, but I regrouped and realized that honey glazed pig meat was what I craved. This was just a fowl ploy by Eric to get me to eat what he commanded. After recognizing his attempt at wizardry, I chuckled about how he was no match against my superior willpower. I began reminiscing about how once a colleague tried to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. I mean sure, he was offering it at quite a discount, but c’mon, I have no space for a bridge in my apartment.
In the meantime, Eric had shifted to the toppings section and was eager to proceed. That is why I was caught off guard when he questioned “Would you like lettuce on your chicken sandwich?”
Acting on instinct alone, I replied “Yes.” Shortly after my induced trance faded, I realized that evil was victorious. I had agreed to a vegetable on a sandwich I did not desire. As the shredded lettuce fell like confetti onto my sub, it symbolized a checkmate.
“You have won this fight Eric the Sorcerer” I mumbled in disgust as I turned around shaking my fist in anger. “I will choke down this chicken sandwich, but please be well aware, this war is far from over.”
To prevent the impression of the Earth orbiting around me, from this word forward, I will shed my narcissistic ways and steer away from writing about the nonsense that circles around in my head. Instead I will develop other individuals that engulf integral parts of my work so that there’s less “I” and more “he, she and plants.” Guys wearing caps, females in sundresses and flamboyant foliage will converse about hot topic issues like political campaigns, religious beliefs and the decline in clowns. I mean, earlier today I had an interaction with a notorious Subway sandwich employee sporting a badge with Eric on it. Let me narrate a tale about the epic battle of wits we shared.
From an end of the line position, I deducted that his sporadic facial hair put him at the age of a high school student and that his hair net imprisoned a wild amount of blonde locks. Most of his uniform was shielded by a black baggy cloak which was perfect for concealing a spellbook or orb. As a whole, he gave off an aura of confidence as I observed him handling meat and laying down cheese squares.
Alright, now that I have unraveled enough traits of this evil young man to construct a portrait, let me carry on with how the altercation took place. While I was patiently waiting on line, my mind hosted a tournament between eligible deli meats. As Eric put on a fresh pair of magic (mostly plastic) gloves, he inquired “What would you like Sir?”
His voice awakened me from internal sandwich combat. With a thrilling slay of Turkey, Ham won the trophy and the heart of the king so to the best of my knowledge, I responded “Ham please.”
That is when things started to go awry and Eric the Sorcerer began his mind play. He spun around to make my order but it appeared that the meat that he was spreading on my bread was chicken. In a fit of confusion, my brain started questioning me with “Did I order chicken by mistake? Did he mishear hen rather than ham? Maybe my subconscious secretly prefers poultry?”
It took a few moments, but I regrouped and realized that honey glazed pig meat was what I craved. This was just a fowl ploy by Eric to get me to eat what he commanded. After recognizing his attempt at wizardry, I chuckled about how he was no match against my superior willpower. I began reminiscing about how once a colleague tried to sell me the Brooklyn Bridge. I mean sure, he was offering it at quite a discount, but c’mon, I have no space for a bridge in my apartment.
In the meantime, Eric had shifted to the toppings section and was eager to proceed. That is why I was caught off guard when he questioned “Would you like lettuce on your chicken sandwich?”
Acting on instinct alone, I replied “Yes.” Shortly after my induced trance faded, I realized that evil was victorious. I had agreed to a vegetable on a sandwich I did not desire. As the shredded lettuce fell like confetti onto my sub, it symbolized a checkmate.
“You have won this fight Eric the Sorcerer” I mumbled in disgust as I turned around shaking my fist in anger. “I will choke down this chicken sandwich, but please be well aware, this war is far from over.”
Friday, November 5, 2010
Top dozen "So I Saids"
One of my favorite lines is "so I said let's get out of these wet clothes and slip into a dry martini" I really wish I could claim that I was the one who invented it. In lieu of that, I decided to just create my own following the template of starting a sentence in mid conversation and finishing it. Hopefully one day in the future I will be at the supermarket or park and overhear someone using one of the below.
I- so I said, I had no idea that English was your second language, I just assumed you were retarded
II- so I said, I'll give you 5 bucks if you walk into that guys camouflage backpack and say "sorry man, I didn't see that there"
III- so I said, no thank you Ma'am, a bag is unnecessary. I am just going to drink the beer here in the store
IV- so I said, alright Sir it would be criminal for me to give anyone fashion advice, but if you need to tug your pants up every sidewalk panel, perhaps you should reconsider
V- so I said, I am sorry officer I don't understand the meaning of this ticket. I'm parked fine, it's clearly obvious that the lines were painted crooked
VI- so I said, yeah I know I have never played Parcheesi before but you can't stop me from saying I am undefeated
VII- so I said, I wouldn't say I am having a "bad hair day" it's more of a case of my hair having a "nice personality" today
VIII- so I said, I am very impressed by your proposal and is exactly what I was looking for but the other candidate made a pie graph, so I am going with him
IX- so I said, cheat is such an ugly word, let's just say I was reminding myself how great of a girlfriend you are
X- so I said, if I would have called to warn you I was running late, I would have then relaxed and arrived even later. I respect you too much for that
XI- so I said, turn onto the highway, drive for about 2 songs and then the exit should be on your left
XII- so I said, sure you can count your chickens before they hatch, just don't do it accurately, make it's more of an estimate
I- so I said, I had no idea that English was your second language, I just assumed you were retarded
II- so I said, I'll give you 5 bucks if you walk into that guys camouflage backpack and say "sorry man, I didn't see that there"
III- so I said, no thank you Ma'am, a bag is unnecessary. I am just going to drink the beer here in the store
IV- so I said, alright Sir it would be criminal for me to give anyone fashion advice, but if you need to tug your pants up every sidewalk panel, perhaps you should reconsider
V- so I said, I am sorry officer I don't understand the meaning of this ticket. I'm parked fine, it's clearly obvious that the lines were painted crooked
VI- so I said, yeah I know I have never played Parcheesi before but you can't stop me from saying I am undefeated
VII- so I said, I wouldn't say I am having a "bad hair day" it's more of a case of my hair having a "nice personality" today
VIII- so I said, I am very impressed by your proposal and is exactly what I was looking for but the other candidate made a pie graph, so I am going with him
IX- so I said, cheat is such an ugly word, let's just say I was reminding myself how great of a girlfriend you are
X- so I said, if I would have called to warn you I was running late, I would have then relaxed and arrived even later. I respect you too much for that
XI- so I said, turn onto the highway, drive for about 2 songs and then the exit should be on your left
XII- so I said, sure you can count your chickens before they hatch, just don't do it accurately, make it's more of an estimate
Friday, October 29, 2010
Top Dozen Bad Halloween Costumes
So the actual goal for this blog was to tell an office story. One that catalogues the many weeks worth of labor I put in convincing new employees that everyone dresses up for Halloween. I start by giving them fictitious examples of previous year’s costumes such as vampires, ninjas and the CEO if he were drunk and homeless. I add how the grand prize winner gets a paid vacation to Northern Iowa and the runner up gets to be boss for a day.
Next when there is still some lingering doubt, I'll state the entire building wears elaborate well thought out costumes that they kept secret for months and they should feel lucky that I am warning them in advance. I’ll follow with that there is an unwritten rule that anyone caught without costume is given detrimental marks in the "Leadership" and "Compliance" categories from upper management on their annual review. Basically I make it sound like if you want to climb the corporate ladder at this office, you are going to have to wear some face paint or put on some spandex.
When the holiday finally arrives, a few rookie employees are the only ones dressed in costume and bags packed for Iowa. A laugh is shared by all and avoiding my business duties for a month pays off.
Alas, once again this year, my prank was a failure since everyone is dressed in the normal business attire and it's business as usual. Instead, I will now just provide this list of terrible Halloween costumes
I-The Visible Man
II-The Equator (a shirt with a horizontal line circling it)
III-Bob from Accounting
IV-Computer Graphic (stay home and visit people through an internet camera)
V-Non-Alcoholic Beer Drinker
VI-Twin Brother that wears a hat
VII-Green (wear only green)
VIII-Fake accent or talk in 3rd person
IX-Change direction of part in your hair
X-Half Man, Half Man
XI-You (just walk around with a big mirror)
XII-Brett Favre or his penis
Next when there is still some lingering doubt, I'll state the entire building wears elaborate well thought out costumes that they kept secret for months and they should feel lucky that I am warning them in advance. I’ll follow with that there is an unwritten rule that anyone caught without costume is given detrimental marks in the "Leadership" and "Compliance" categories from upper management on their annual review. Basically I make it sound like if you want to climb the corporate ladder at this office, you are going to have to wear some face paint or put on some spandex.
When the holiday finally arrives, a few rookie employees are the only ones dressed in costume and bags packed for Iowa. A laugh is shared by all and avoiding my business duties for a month pays off.
Alas, once again this year, my prank was a failure since everyone is dressed in the normal business attire and it's business as usual. Instead, I will now just provide this list of terrible Halloween costumes
I-The Visible Man
II-The Equator (a shirt with a horizontal line circling it)
III-Bob from Accounting
IV-Computer Graphic (stay home and visit people through an internet camera)
V-Non-Alcoholic Beer Drinker
VI-Twin Brother that wears a hat
VII-Green (wear only green)
VIII-Fake accent or talk in 3rd person
IX-Change direction of part in your hair
X-Half Man, Half Man
XI-You (just walk around with a big mirror)
XII-Brett Favre or his penis
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Book Report
Believe it or not, but it is possible to pen a book report strictly for personal pleasure. Without fulfilling a course requirement, I chose to write an evaluation the two classic Pete Lopez blogs, “If You Don’t Read This I Will Kidnap Your Family” (IYDRTIWKYF) and “The Essay That Let’s Other Essays Shine.”(TETLOES) Besides succumbing to the huge internet hype surrounding him (5 followers), the reason I picked Mr. Lopez was that I felt a strange cosmic connection.
It took about an instant for me to begin enjoying the unique narrative style that Mr. Lopez used to convey his distorted sense of wisdom. As an example, in TETLOES, he claimed to sporadically model himself in clothes comparable to that of a homeless man in order for the days he groomed neatly, to stand out more. I found this tactic highly irrational but he did raise a point about contrasting consistency. When bringing the topic up with colleagues, a debate often occurred around the phrase “you can have too much of a good thing.” Some agreed that arriving pretty everyday was an overdose of cake, while others argued it merely rationalized an excuse to skip showering and applying makeup a few mornings a week.
I was unable to identify an exact writing method that the Pete pledged to or locate another senseless author he drew inspiration from. If I was forced to categorize his literature, I would label it as, live writing which jots down the first thoughts that come from the top of the head and then praying for the best. Instead of story telling, I compare it to the unpredictability of a sporting event. When the ending rolls around, for the better or worse, I believe Pete Lopez was just as surprised as to what happens as anyone else who reads.
He also transmitted a very relaxed tone. Perhaps even too relaxed, because he rarely accomplished anything productive and displayed the attention span of a house fly. I found it hysterical that throughout IYDRTIWKYF he kept conjuring up criminal or outlandish ways to becoming successful but as we journeyed through his brain storming, it seemed as if he never left the couch. I have to admit that I prefer reading about his never-ending hope with get rich quick schemes as opposed to tales from some dedicated worker who slowly scratched and climbs his way up the mountain of marginal success.
In criticism, I wish I knew what school of thought Pete followed because it appears that in some of his sentence structure that he lacks an education altogether. I don’t think he’d have a clue as to what a semi colon was, even if it walked right up and literally smacked him in the face. Also, he does not seem fond of proofreading his work as he erroneously jumps from one tense to another. There were many parts where I assumed he was hopping in and out of some sort of time traveling machine.
My final disagreement is his constant over modification of verbs. I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading the newspaper one morning over coffee to discover that famed nonsense writer Pete Lopez was found dead in his small city apartment. The cause is still being investigated and an autopsy is pending, but with his room littered in LY’s, all the evidence is pointing to an overdose on adverbs.
Despite those minor faults, I really really loved both samples and I consider his oblivious butchering of the English language as all part of the Pete Lopez experience. I hope one day I am lucky enough to meet him and shake his hand. I already have planned to jokingly tell him that both of these pieces were so amazing, they actually diminish each other. I greatly look forward to tracking his aspiring career and expect anyone who reads this Book Report to match my opinion and declare Pete Lopez one of the living marvels in the literary universe.
-source unknown (but credible)
Bibliography
-I am sure Pete Lopez is just so happy that someone read his work that he doesn't care if he was referenced properly.
It took about an instant for me to begin enjoying the unique narrative style that Mr. Lopez used to convey his distorted sense of wisdom. As an example, in TETLOES, he claimed to sporadically model himself in clothes comparable to that of a homeless man in order for the days he groomed neatly, to stand out more. I found this tactic highly irrational but he did raise a point about contrasting consistency. When bringing the topic up with colleagues, a debate often occurred around the phrase “you can have too much of a good thing.” Some agreed that arriving pretty everyday was an overdose of cake, while others argued it merely rationalized an excuse to skip showering and applying makeup a few mornings a week.
I was unable to identify an exact writing method that the Pete pledged to or locate another senseless author he drew inspiration from. If I was forced to categorize his literature, I would label it as, live writing which jots down the first thoughts that come from the top of the head and then praying for the best. Instead of story telling, I compare it to the unpredictability of a sporting event. When the ending rolls around, for the better or worse, I believe Pete Lopez was just as surprised as to what happens as anyone else who reads.
He also transmitted a very relaxed tone. Perhaps even too relaxed, because he rarely accomplished anything productive and displayed the attention span of a house fly. I found it hysterical that throughout IYDRTIWKYF he kept conjuring up criminal or outlandish ways to becoming successful but as we journeyed through his brain storming, it seemed as if he never left the couch. I have to admit that I prefer reading about his never-ending hope with get rich quick schemes as opposed to tales from some dedicated worker who slowly scratched and climbs his way up the mountain of marginal success.
In criticism, I wish I knew what school of thought Pete followed because it appears that in some of his sentence structure that he lacks an education altogether. I don’t think he’d have a clue as to what a semi colon was, even if it walked right up and literally smacked him in the face. Also, he does not seem fond of proofreading his work as he erroneously jumps from one tense to another. There were many parts where I assumed he was hopping in and out of some sort of time traveling machine.
My final disagreement is his constant over modification of verbs. I wouldn’t be surprised to be reading the newspaper one morning over coffee to discover that famed nonsense writer Pete Lopez was found dead in his small city apartment. The cause is still being investigated and an autopsy is pending, but with his room littered in LY’s, all the evidence is pointing to an overdose on adverbs.
Despite those minor faults, I really really loved both samples and I consider his oblivious butchering of the English language as all part of the Pete Lopez experience. I hope one day I am lucky enough to meet him and shake his hand. I already have planned to jokingly tell him that both of these pieces were so amazing, they actually diminish each other. I greatly look forward to tracking his aspiring career and expect anyone who reads this Book Report to match my opinion and declare Pete Lopez one of the living marvels in the literary universe.
-source unknown (but credible)
Bibliography
-I am sure Pete Lopez is just so happy that someone read his work that he doesn't care if he was referenced properly.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Sidewalk to Nowhere
It would be a silly mistake to assume there was a predetermined blueprint as to where this opening sentence was leading. I arrogantly thought I could start typing without hesitation and magically fill this sheet of paper with a delightful tale. Upon completion, the well established enemy would be defeated, the damsel in distress would be lovingly in my arms and the planet rescued from certain doom. Alas, instead of setting the stage for an adventure of epic proportions, I have composed an beginning paragraph that pilots into a black hole.
As a comparison to this negligence, a few weeks back I was taking a jog around my island summer getaway retreat*. As I was running around the neighborhood, waving to the locals I noticed a new set of condominiums had sprouted. It appeared as I turned onto a busy highway that weaved through a nice mix of foliage. Despite the isolated location, the gated community appeared to cater towards an upscale clientele. The elite grooming of the shrubs made my hair look like it was cut by a butcher and although I couldn't confirm it was Batman because my blazing speed caused blurry vision, there was in the least an intimidating fellow dressed in black securing the gate. Finally, to tie everything together, a sidewalk was paved on the front perimeter of the property.
The curious part to me was that at the same point that the complex quit running parallel with the highway, subsequently so did the sidewalk. The abrupt end fizzled into an uncultivated meadow area where you'd expect to see an abandoned shopping cart or an elk. As I passed by on street level, I pondered the reasoning behind the recently assembled walkway. In my dream there was a backpacked traveler approaching the edge of the sidewalk scratching their head (or thickly grown beard) in disbelief. The question burning in their mind “Who would architect a passage with the intention of it dropping you off at nowhere?”
That’s how I feel right now, I foolishly followed my uncharted path assuming that it would escort me to the placid oasis but alas I marched right smack into the middle of dessert. That’s right, I arrived post main course and have no idea what the table is chatting about as they sip their after meal cordial and unloosen their belts for pie…….Wow the things I would do to cover up a typo. I see a similar outcome if I announced sports on the radio. I'd accidentally miscall a foul ball as a homerun during a baseball game and instead of retracting, just state the incorrect score for the remainder of the match. I see no reason to admit being wrong without visual proof. Besides, showing mistakes would ruin my credibility to the listening audience
Anyway, to summarize nothing, I typed myself into a sandy dead land and have no clue how to write my self to safety. The princess is still trapped in a dungeon waiting to marry the villainous serpent and the innocent people of the globe are destined for eternal enslavement all because of my procrastination. I blame myself for the failure but have learned a valuable lesson about what happens when I write the first thoughts that pop into my head. I will now start with a preplanned outline, have a "real story" woven into the plot and wrap up the loose ends in the conclusion. No longer will I construct trails that lead into emptiness and then quit because I am now craving pie. Please accept my apologies beautiful princess, Mother Earth and the trusting people who have read this. Also, let us all be forewarned together, never allow sidewalks to be our shepherd, you’ll never know where you will end up.
(pete lopez)
*Okay fine, there are some “misleadings” in that “summer island getaway retreat” statement. (A) The season was autumn, (B) The island was merely my birth land of Long Island, (C) I was not the proud owner of the dwelling, it was my mom’s house
As a comparison to this negligence, a few weeks back I was taking a jog around my island summer getaway retreat*. As I was running around the neighborhood, waving to the locals I noticed a new set of condominiums had sprouted. It appeared as I turned onto a busy highway that weaved through a nice mix of foliage. Despite the isolated location, the gated community appeared to cater towards an upscale clientele. The elite grooming of the shrubs made my hair look like it was cut by a butcher and although I couldn't confirm it was Batman because my blazing speed caused blurry vision, there was in the least an intimidating fellow dressed in black securing the gate. Finally, to tie everything together, a sidewalk was paved on the front perimeter of the property.
The curious part to me was that at the same point that the complex quit running parallel with the highway, subsequently so did the sidewalk. The abrupt end fizzled into an uncultivated meadow area where you'd expect to see an abandoned shopping cart or an elk. As I passed by on street level, I pondered the reasoning behind the recently assembled walkway. In my dream there was a backpacked traveler approaching the edge of the sidewalk scratching their head (or thickly grown beard) in disbelief. The question burning in their mind “Who would architect a passage with the intention of it dropping you off at nowhere?”
That’s how I feel right now, I foolishly followed my uncharted path assuming that it would escort me to the placid oasis but alas I marched right smack into the middle of dessert. That’s right, I arrived post main course and have no idea what the table is chatting about as they sip their after meal cordial and unloosen their belts for pie…….Wow the things I would do to cover up a typo. I see a similar outcome if I announced sports on the radio. I'd accidentally miscall a foul ball as a homerun during a baseball game and instead of retracting, just state the incorrect score for the remainder of the match. I see no reason to admit being wrong without visual proof. Besides, showing mistakes would ruin my credibility to the listening audience
Anyway, to summarize nothing, I typed myself into a sandy dead land and have no clue how to write my self to safety. The princess is still trapped in a dungeon waiting to marry the villainous serpent and the innocent people of the globe are destined for eternal enslavement all because of my procrastination. I blame myself for the failure but have learned a valuable lesson about what happens when I write the first thoughts that pop into my head. I will now start with a preplanned outline, have a "real story" woven into the plot and wrap up the loose ends in the conclusion. No longer will I construct trails that lead into emptiness and then quit because I am now craving pie. Please accept my apologies beautiful princess, Mother Earth and the trusting people who have read this. Also, let us all be forewarned together, never allow sidewalks to be our shepherd, you’ll never know where you will end up.
(pete lopez)
*Okay fine, there are some “misleadings” in that “summer island getaway retreat” statement. (A) The season was autumn, (B) The island was merely my birth land of Long Island, (C) I was not the proud owner of the dwelling, it was my mom’s house
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The Easy that Allows Other Essays to Shine (part II, Unpolished)
Previously on TetAOEtS, I was describing how arriving at work each day dressed as a clone of oneself can set a path to a faceless existence. As a branch of that premise, I believe in slightly deteriorating my look when meeting people for the first time. Without a prior experience, the new party can only judge me on my current status. I fear climaxing initially because in all future appointments I am doomed to look inferior. I prefer to leave space for improvement. My theory to being successful is to always be showing progress and it is much easier to accomplish that goal when beginning on a lower platform. Let me give you an example that I call "Seeing the Butterfly before the Caterpillar."
At first I was a huge proponent of meeting the woman of my dreams at a wedding, especially if it meant courting one of the hot bridesmaids. The atmosphere of matrimony is joyous and it sets for matchmaking heaven. Everyone is elegantly dressed, love is in the air and my eventual children wouldn't have to hear a story about their father meeting his wife in an astrology internet chat room. What kind of soul mate searching backdrop could prove to be better?
My romantic vision starts when I notice her out of the corner of my eye and become mesmerized by her radiant smile. My plan of seduction has a confident me strolling over to introduce myself. While making her acquaintance, I offer to buy her a complimentary drink during cocktail hour and that plants a seed to blossom for future flirtations.
Later, after letting a sufficient amount of time pass to play hard to get, I make a grand return and pull out the big guns. I take her hand to tango on the dance floor and we playfully bump into the bride slow dancing with her father. Upon exiting the dance floor we head on line for a slice of wedding cake. We have the fortune of obtaining the last fork and take turns lovingly feeding each other a bite.
With the evening moving along flawlessly, before I know it, we are back at the hotel bar tossing back late night shots of Jagermeister during closing call. As nightfall winds down and the dawn sunlight offers a captivating glow on her face, I gently rest a soft kiss on her delicate cheek. This leads to us passionately exchanging email addresses in the lobby and heading to our respective lodging quarters grasping onto the desperate desire to meet again before long.
On the subsequent morning I would brag to friends, hotel maids and anyone else with ears about being the smoothest guy on the planet. Of course as the gentleman I am, I would refrain from sharing explicit details of how my lips dampened the most sensitive skin. To keep the lustfulness of our affair confidential, I would only yield generic lines such as "Sally Q melted in my arms" and "She was the first one to practice and the last to leave. Sally Q just wanted me more."
In seizing a brief pause in my boasting, a friend listening interjects with “That’s great, I am really happy for you. Sally Q looked stunning last night.”
That particular line put my momentum in neutral and my mind became suspicious. Why did he mention that Sally Q looked stunning last night? Does she normally look un-stunning? On our opening engagement, did I already witness the peak of what she has to offer? Will the rest of our relationship be trapped in an unfulfilling valley? If I meet her for a cup of coffee or at the bowling alley and she has faded jeans, knotty hair and I am stone sober, will I be bitterly disappointed?
Suddenly I am not so sure of the mess I got myself involved into. Last night Sally Q was a ravishing enchanted angel mermaid princess but yet her presence following afternoon transformed into a hideous snake haired Medusa. All the intense analyzing causes me to break out into a sweat and a sick feeling engulfs my stomach.
No longer was I blueprinting romantic journeys by horse driven carriage under the stars and dining by candlelight on the ocean front. Drastic vanishing alternatives such as burning off my finger prints, adopting a stage name and speaking with an incoherent accent were now the main focus. That led to considering enlisting in the witness protection program and anonymously living the remainder of my life as a farmer in a rural community out in Northern Iowa. My entire world spun out of control and I am now in debate of abandoning my family and moving to Middle America to harvest crops. This unfortunate chain of events occurred simply because I met a girl who looked her best, the first time I laid my eyes on her.
Alright, let me stop this fabrication before I write myself jumping off the hotel rooftop or over dosing on mini shampoo bottles. I better come clean and admit that this dramatization slowly lost merit sentence after sentence. Actually this entire two part composition promotes advice that should be followed with a grain of salt or maybe not even at all. Besides, the moral was never about the importance of differentiating daily appearance or taking a modest approach to unveiling yourself for the first time. The point was to generate some rather dull output in order to lower expectations and make it easier for my other and future offerings to shine.
To reemphasize that, I will now conclude with uninteresting facts contained in parenthesis of how igneous rocks (hot magma ejected to the earth’s surface as lava that eventually cooled) and sedimentary ones (sand pressed together over long periods of time) were formed. Nobody wanted to read about that.
-pete lopez
PS I only know how to tango in my visions.
At first I was a huge proponent of meeting the woman of my dreams at a wedding, especially if it meant courting one of the hot bridesmaids. The atmosphere of matrimony is joyous and it sets for matchmaking heaven. Everyone is elegantly dressed, love is in the air and my eventual children wouldn't have to hear a story about their father meeting his wife in an astrology internet chat room. What kind of soul mate searching backdrop could prove to be better?
My romantic vision starts when I notice her out of the corner of my eye and become mesmerized by her radiant smile. My plan of seduction has a confident me strolling over to introduce myself. While making her acquaintance, I offer to buy her a complimentary drink during cocktail hour and that plants a seed to blossom for future flirtations.
Later, after letting a sufficient amount of time pass to play hard to get, I make a grand return and pull out the big guns. I take her hand to tango on the dance floor and we playfully bump into the bride slow dancing with her father. Upon exiting the dance floor we head on line for a slice of wedding cake. We have the fortune of obtaining the last fork and take turns lovingly feeding each other a bite.
With the evening moving along flawlessly, before I know it, we are back at the hotel bar tossing back late night shots of Jagermeister during closing call. As nightfall winds down and the dawn sunlight offers a captivating glow on her face, I gently rest a soft kiss on her delicate cheek. This leads to us passionately exchanging email addresses in the lobby and heading to our respective lodging quarters grasping onto the desperate desire to meet again before long.
On the subsequent morning I would brag to friends, hotel maids and anyone else with ears about being the smoothest guy on the planet. Of course as the gentleman I am, I would refrain from sharing explicit details of how my lips dampened the most sensitive skin. To keep the lustfulness of our affair confidential, I would only yield generic lines such as "Sally Q melted in my arms" and "She was the first one to practice and the last to leave. Sally Q just wanted me more."
In seizing a brief pause in my boasting, a friend listening interjects with “That’s great, I am really happy for you. Sally Q looked stunning last night.”
That particular line put my momentum in neutral and my mind became suspicious. Why did he mention that Sally Q looked stunning last night? Does she normally look un-stunning? On our opening engagement, did I already witness the peak of what she has to offer? Will the rest of our relationship be trapped in an unfulfilling valley? If I meet her for a cup of coffee or at the bowling alley and she has faded jeans, knotty hair and I am stone sober, will I be bitterly disappointed?
Suddenly I am not so sure of the mess I got myself involved into. Last night Sally Q was a ravishing enchanted angel mermaid princess but yet her presence following afternoon transformed into a hideous snake haired Medusa. All the intense analyzing causes me to break out into a sweat and a sick feeling engulfs my stomach.
No longer was I blueprinting romantic journeys by horse driven carriage under the stars and dining by candlelight on the ocean front. Drastic vanishing alternatives such as burning off my finger prints, adopting a stage name and speaking with an incoherent accent were now the main focus. That led to considering enlisting in the witness protection program and anonymously living the remainder of my life as a farmer in a rural community out in Northern Iowa. My entire world spun out of control and I am now in debate of abandoning my family and moving to Middle America to harvest crops. This unfortunate chain of events occurred simply because I met a girl who looked her best, the first time I laid my eyes on her.
Alright, let me stop this fabrication before I write myself jumping off the hotel rooftop or over dosing on mini shampoo bottles. I better come clean and admit that this dramatization slowly lost merit sentence after sentence. Actually this entire two part composition promotes advice that should be followed with a grain of salt or maybe not even at all. Besides, the moral was never about the importance of differentiating daily appearance or taking a modest approach to unveiling yourself for the first time. The point was to generate some rather dull output in order to lower expectations and make it easier for my other and future offerings to shine.
To reemphasize that, I will now conclude with uninteresting facts contained in parenthesis of how igneous rocks (hot magma ejected to the earth’s surface as lava that eventually cooled) and sedimentary ones (sand pressed together over long periods of time) were formed. Nobody wanted to read about that.
-pete lopez
PS I only know how to tango in my visions.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Top Dozen Reasons You Might be an Alcoholic
You know you are an alcoholic when....
1-You debate each liquid or powder in the juice isle at the grocery store if it would mix well with vodka
2-The level of beer left in your glass keeps getting higher as to when you start worrying about the following one
3-On a random Tuesday night, you think I don’t have time for this and switch from beer to chugging tequilla
4-When hearing warnings for severe weather conditions, your first thought is stocking up on emergency cases of beer
5-You bargain profusely for a better deal on a few bananas at the fruit stand but later that evening shrug off $11 cocktails
6-You keep your spare set of house keys at the local bar and "accidentally" lock yourself out a lot
7-Your idea of a drinking problem is when all the glasses are dirty
8-Autumn cleaning to you means finishing the leftover Summer Ales in your fridge
IX-You wonder what would happen if you added rum as an ingredient in pancake batter
X-You view swallowing a vitamin, cold pill or lego as a legitimate excuse to pop open a beer
XI-You think non-alcoholic beer is acceptable at work, church or pregnant
XII-Reading this list makes you crave a drink so bad, you are oblivious that I switched numbering to roman numerals
And now for Inside the Author's head...
So I thought of the dirty glasses as a drinking problem one day when I was out of cups and wanted to use it somehow. What else is better than list? Everything else were things I noticed from "other people" like um um Mr X or Madame Y. Well that of course except for when I was drinking a Sam Adam's Summer Ale while the neighbors were outside raking tree shit (leaves). Wait, I also better say I never ingested a lego. The thought of the idea that someone would use swallowing a child toy in order to rationalize drinking a beer made me laugh. Alright, I am off to the local bar to get my keys....I mean donating blood at the orphanage while serving soup to the homeless
-pete
1-You debate each liquid or powder in the juice isle at the grocery store if it would mix well with vodka
2-The level of beer left in your glass keeps getting higher as to when you start worrying about the following one
3-On a random Tuesday night, you think I don’t have time for this and switch from beer to chugging tequilla
4-When hearing warnings for severe weather conditions, your first thought is stocking up on emergency cases of beer
5-You bargain profusely for a better deal on a few bananas at the fruit stand but later that evening shrug off $11 cocktails
6-You keep your spare set of house keys at the local bar and "accidentally" lock yourself out a lot
7-Your idea of a drinking problem is when all the glasses are dirty
8-Autumn cleaning to you means finishing the leftover Summer Ales in your fridge
IX-You wonder what would happen if you added rum as an ingredient in pancake batter
X-You view swallowing a vitamin, cold pill or lego as a legitimate excuse to pop open a beer
XI-You think non-alcoholic beer is acceptable at work, church or pregnant
XII-Reading this list makes you crave a drink so bad, you are oblivious that I switched numbering to roman numerals
And now for Inside the Author's head...
So I thought of the dirty glasses as a drinking problem one day when I was out of cups and wanted to use it somehow. What else is better than list? Everything else were things I noticed from "other people" like um um Mr X or Madame Y. Well that of course except for when I was drinking a Sam Adam's Summer Ale while the neighbors were outside raking tree shit (leaves). Wait, I also better say I never ingested a lego. The thought of the idea that someone would use swallowing a child toy in order to rationalize drinking a beer made me laugh. Alright, I am off to the local bar to get my keys....I mean donating blood at the orphanage while serving soup to the homeless
-pete
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Essay that Allows Other Essays to Shine (Part I, Spam)
Before penning this, I came to the conclusion that I needed a heroic essay to fall from grace. If all my written output was considered elite literature, then none of it could rise and stand above. If I'm only preparing grade A steaks, their supreme flavor starts losing value. My writing menu needs an article of spam, a side chapter of vegetables and a thesis of leftovers on it as well. Once in a while, I need to lower to the salad bar so that when I offer prime beef work, you can still notice how tender it is.
With that said, I must prohibit consistently being consistent from prohibiting my stuff to stick out. On purpose I am going to purposely make this written piece of writing suck like a sucker to ruin my reliable streak of reliability. That will stop and prevent a crowd from over crowding at the top of the top and free some free space for my other pieces that are not this one, to brightly sparkle a bit brighter.
Since the above proves that this essay is deliberately taking a dive, a plausible reader’s reaction would sound similar to this. “Upon these new set of circumstances, that nonsensical masterpiece I read yesterday was damn entertaining. I lost track of what a marvelous author Pete Lopez was because everything he composed was a diamond. After suffering through this rough, I hope his next submission to R2AZ regains that superior shine I mistakenly took for granted. I promise to do a better job of stopping to enjoy the roses, which are his words.”
To break it down further, I draw a comparison to the propaganda of ‘Mom says to always look your best’. If I took adequate time to fancy myself up every morning, the overall result would make me appear rather generic. There would be slight variations from day to day depending on pimples, the angle of the part in my hair or the number of inches of my heels but nothing that would distinguish me on a daily basis. After a month of monotony, people would stop accounting for my fantastically awesome looks.
Wow, after years of it uselessly hibernating, I can include something I learned as an economics major in college, the Law of Diminishing Returns. Loosely translated, if you wear the same type of shit everyday regardless of the brand quality or thread count, people will care less and less as time carries on. To combat regularity, if a couple of times a week I intentionally head to work in a less groomed manner, people would closely monitor my appearance. Like they say in the media, there is no bad publicity. Although a worn down version of me sheds a negative light, it's still in the office spotlight.
Well, I am not going to sugar coat that this technique will offer instant praise. Arriving at the office with an appearance that questions if I am homeless, is not immune to a spattering of, “Wow Pete you're looking lousy and smelling of day old alcohol today. What the hell were you doing on a Tuesday night?”
As a whole, I do swear that the compliments gathered will greatly exceed the amount of detrimental remarks. When the flattery arrives on days I tidy up, a minuscule part resulted from shock but the majority of the acclaim was from everyone recalling, just how attractive I am. Who doesn’t like compliments? Well it surely won't happen if I only dress like a financial robot. Not only do I have to remind people every so often that I am breathtaking, I must occasionally rip that sensation away......to be continued
-pete lopez
With that said, I must prohibit consistently being consistent from prohibiting my stuff to stick out. On purpose I am going to purposely make this written piece of writing suck like a sucker to ruin my reliable streak of reliability. That will stop and prevent a crowd from over crowding at the top of the top and free some free space for my other pieces that are not this one, to brightly sparkle a bit brighter.
Since the above proves that this essay is deliberately taking a dive, a plausible reader’s reaction would sound similar to this. “Upon these new set of circumstances, that nonsensical masterpiece I read yesterday was damn entertaining. I lost track of what a marvelous author Pete Lopez was because everything he composed was a diamond. After suffering through this rough, I hope his next submission to R2AZ regains that superior shine I mistakenly took for granted. I promise to do a better job of stopping to enjoy the roses, which are his words.”
To break it down further, I draw a comparison to the propaganda of ‘Mom says to always look your best’. If I took adequate time to fancy myself up every morning, the overall result would make me appear rather generic. There would be slight variations from day to day depending on pimples, the angle of the part in my hair or the number of inches of my heels but nothing that would distinguish me on a daily basis. After a month of monotony, people would stop accounting for my fantastically awesome looks.
Wow, after years of it uselessly hibernating, I can include something I learned as an economics major in college, the Law of Diminishing Returns. Loosely translated, if you wear the same type of shit everyday regardless of the brand quality or thread count, people will care less and less as time carries on. To combat regularity, if a couple of times a week I intentionally head to work in a less groomed manner, people would closely monitor my appearance. Like they say in the media, there is no bad publicity. Although a worn down version of me sheds a negative light, it's still in the office spotlight.
Well, I am not going to sugar coat that this technique will offer instant praise. Arriving at the office with an appearance that questions if I am homeless, is not immune to a spattering of, “Wow Pete you're looking lousy and smelling of day old alcohol today. What the hell were you doing on a Tuesday night?”
As a whole, I do swear that the compliments gathered will greatly exceed the amount of detrimental remarks. When the flattery arrives on days I tidy up, a minuscule part resulted from shock but the majority of the acclaim was from everyone recalling, just how attractive I am. Who doesn’t like compliments? Well it surely won't happen if I only dress like a financial robot. Not only do I have to remind people every so often that I am breathtaking, I must occasionally rip that sensation away......to be continued
-pete lopez
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Autumn Blog Season Preview
Now that bathing suits and sundresses have been abandoned for long johns and mittens, I am sure everyone is anxious to get cozy with a brand new Blog Season. Slip into a comfortable pair of dark pants, pour a glass of hot cider and let me provide you with a sneak peak of the upcoming Road to Absolute Zero entries. There is just so much great stuff to be excited for. Let me stop this silly seasonal banter and give you some tantalizing teasers about what the weeks ahead have in store………
Life is Short, Wear Heels
This blog has nothing to do with male cross-dressing or a helpful boost to dust top shelves. Instead, it is my Shakespearean attempt at a poetic metaphor about making the most out of human existence. Life does not stand tall by itself, so sometimes you have to kick it up a notch. There needs to be some peril (aka heels) in living to keep you on your toes. Once in a while you have to add broken glass, flammable goods and a shot of whiskey to see what happens. The blog goes on to explain that the same monotonous flat footed routine will lead to a sole-less existence.
Involuntary Man Slaughter
This suspenseful entry begins with a casual encounter I had with a fellow pedestrian on the streets of New York City. In a moment of lapse, I accidentally pointed him in the opposite direction of where he was seeking. Throughout the remainder of the day, my head formulated a hypothetical chain of unfortunate events that wound up leading to his untimely death. In fear of committing unintentional murder, I frantically rush around the city against the clock. Were my calculations of his fate accurate? Was I able to rescue him seconds before certain doom? Was he perfectly fine? Could he remember who I was?
An Award Winning Essay
This brilliant piece takes an obtuse look at the philosophy “You can do anything that you put your mind to.” It begins with, sure, there’s a chance of success through hard work and dedication, but some failure and depression are destined to happen along the way. Alas, a similar but effortless deduction of that viewpoint can be made as “A mind at rest is full of limitless potential." This means, I can relax on the couch knowing, that the villain preventing me from my goals is simply myself. Perhaps one day I will compose an award winning essay, architect a majestic skyscraper or learn to prepare a balanced meals, but right now I am perfectly content assuming that I could accomplish those things if I chose to put my mind to it.
The Cinderella of Fruit
This touching blog leans toward my sensitive side. I admit, sometimes when I am out at a grocery store shopping for fruit I purposely toss in a few pieces that are slightly bruised or discolored. I just feel so guilty they may have been raised with poor agriculture. Then upon returning home, I place them in a hanging basket beside my fridge and pray those “ugly ducklings”, with the help of my tender love and care will blossom into a “swan”. Do my nurturing attempts end up being fruitful? Or is it a rotten waste of money?
Please Die-Vest
This rant takes a deep look into my strong anti-vest stance. To me, not only is it getting dressed after already being dressed, it is highly insulting to the shirt worn underneath. It would be offensive if you mentioned to a colleague “I enjoy your company but find your face repulsive. I insist you place this bag over it.” The rage carries on and gives a few examples of when a vest is acceptable. One involves a disastrous spaghetti incident during a business lunch. Luckily an emergency vest rushes to the rescue to hide the evidence. Then after listing the practical uses, it assumes people with vests could be covering stains or using an adult bib. Finally, without giving the ending away, it shows ways to expose the vest wearer as a slob.
…so the above is merely a tease to get the mouth watering. There is much much more to this season than raking tree shit (leaves). A cake, an orangutan butler, lead balloons & paint, hot bridesmaids, cold bridesmaids, pleasant druglords, alpine glaciers, a celestial orchestra, the equator, the female penis, talking in 4th person and reduced fat oils are all things stuffed into one great Fall Cornucopia. I am positive this doesn’t have to be reinforced, but stay tuned……….
Life is Short, Wear Heels
This blog has nothing to do with male cross-dressing or a helpful boost to dust top shelves. Instead, it is my Shakespearean attempt at a poetic metaphor about making the most out of human existence. Life does not stand tall by itself, so sometimes you have to kick it up a notch. There needs to be some peril (aka heels) in living to keep you on your toes. Once in a while you have to add broken glass, flammable goods and a shot of whiskey to see what happens. The blog goes on to explain that the same monotonous flat footed routine will lead to a sole-less existence.
Involuntary Man Slaughter
This suspenseful entry begins with a casual encounter I had with a fellow pedestrian on the streets of New York City. In a moment of lapse, I accidentally pointed him in the opposite direction of where he was seeking. Throughout the remainder of the day, my head formulated a hypothetical chain of unfortunate events that wound up leading to his untimely death. In fear of committing unintentional murder, I frantically rush around the city against the clock. Were my calculations of his fate accurate? Was I able to rescue him seconds before certain doom? Was he perfectly fine? Could he remember who I was?
An Award Winning Essay
This brilliant piece takes an obtuse look at the philosophy “You can do anything that you put your mind to.” It begins with, sure, there’s a chance of success through hard work and dedication, but some failure and depression are destined to happen along the way. Alas, a similar but effortless deduction of that viewpoint can be made as “A mind at rest is full of limitless potential." This means, I can relax on the couch knowing, that the villain preventing me from my goals is simply myself. Perhaps one day I will compose an award winning essay, architect a majestic skyscraper or learn to prepare a balanced meals, but right now I am perfectly content assuming that I could accomplish those things if I chose to put my mind to it.
The Cinderella of Fruit
This touching blog leans toward my sensitive side. I admit, sometimes when I am out at a grocery store shopping for fruit I purposely toss in a few pieces that are slightly bruised or discolored. I just feel so guilty they may have been raised with poor agriculture. Then upon returning home, I place them in a hanging basket beside my fridge and pray those “ugly ducklings”, with the help of my tender love and care will blossom into a “swan”. Do my nurturing attempts end up being fruitful? Or is it a rotten waste of money?
Please Die-Vest
This rant takes a deep look into my strong anti-vest stance. To me, not only is it getting dressed after already being dressed, it is highly insulting to the shirt worn underneath. It would be offensive if you mentioned to a colleague “I enjoy your company but find your face repulsive. I insist you place this bag over it.” The rage carries on and gives a few examples of when a vest is acceptable. One involves a disastrous spaghetti incident during a business lunch. Luckily an emergency vest rushes to the rescue to hide the evidence. Then after listing the practical uses, it assumes people with vests could be covering stains or using an adult bib. Finally, without giving the ending away, it shows ways to expose the vest wearer as a slob.
…so the above is merely a tease to get the mouth watering. There is much much more to this season than raking tree shit (leaves). A cake, an orangutan butler, lead balloons & paint, hot bridesmaids, cold bridesmaids, pleasant druglords, alpine glaciers, a celestial orchestra, the equator, the female penis, talking in 4th person and reduced fat oils are all things stuffed into one great Fall Cornucopia. I am positive this doesn’t have to be reinforced, but stay tuned……….
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
If You Don’t Read This I Will Kidnap Your Family
Okay, now that I have stolen your undivided attention, I confess that it’s highly unlikely that I would go through with the kidnapping. Besides the obvious concerns of serving a prison sentence and not possessing advanced technology to accurately track the people who read this, there are numerous other factors.
First off, I am far too lazy to put in the necessary research in order to decipher where anyone’s family members reside as well as devise a plan to secretly abduct them. Secondly, I dwell in a small city apartment making it highly unfeasible to house more than several victims simultaneously.
Finally, knowing the warm heart I have, I envision myself treating the captives more like invited guests. In an effort to sooth my conscience I would try to make their stay as pleasant as possible by providing recently released DVDs, offering my catalogue of board games and sharing a vintage bottle of aged whiskey.
Now that I think about it, I would have to tidy up the place, prepare balanced meals and do countless loads of laundry. Those are tasks I barely perform for my own benefit. I would spend so much time fussing about being a respectable host that I’d end up forgetting that the sole purpose of these people inhabiting my humble abode was to exhort their other relatives into reading this.
The whole process would turn into an enormous hassle. After reevaluating, I have concluded that this fiasco would be far more trouble than it was worth. If the only reason you have read the above is for family member safety then I am truly sorry for any state of panic caused and for the waste of your precious time.
Despite my apology for the empty kidnapping threat, I must be honest and inform you that I will declare you as “an idiot” if you don’t read this. My opinion will be that you posses the mental capacity of an infant and I will automatically assume that you were a failure in school and reek of rotten eggs and selfishness………..Alright, I admit it’s unrealistic for me to judge one's intelligence level strictly based on whether this was read and my sense of smell is weak and unreliable. Please forgive me once again as I withdraw my absurd claim.
Alas, let me take a stab at inflicting guilt. If you don't read this piece, I will quit brushing my teeth. That's right, if you forgo reading this, then the burden of my decaying teeth will rest solely upon your shoulders……Okay, I must retreat yet again. There is never an excuse for poor hygiene and I am sure that my mom would forbid me to go through with that unsanitary ploy.
Let me try a non threatening angle that offers prosperity. If you read this piece then you will be blessed with great fortune today. I better add a disclaimer in parenthesis and italics. (If you didn't have a real lucky day, then your luck was that nothing bad happened. If something bad happened then your luck stopped it from getting any worse. If you had the worst day of your life then your luck is that going forward, all your future days will be brighter.)
Alright, I throw in the towel. Presenting open ended fortuitous promises or attempting to deceive people into reading my work is quite superficial and I prefer to believe I am above that. The problem is that I wish to be wealthy and recently picked writing as the path to that accomplishment. The simple premise being, I masterfully sculpt this essay and then someone drops from the sky to offer me unimaginable riches.
I already have the situation detailed in my mind. Mr. Magic Man (Triple M for short) dressed in a tuxedo will slowly float down from the clouds and say “I have come across your material and it's absolutely fantastic. Here is a million dollar check and a job offer to write for my newspaper. As per the agreement, a bikini wearing supermodel will be provided as your secretary and here is the key to the city.”
Of course I would respond with “About time” I mean, “Thank you for the opportunity Sir, you won’t regret it.”
Alright, I know the angel billionaire man scenario sounds ridiculous. I’d love to model my past after a young orphaned boy who was dealt a bad hand in life but yet never gave up the flickering hope to be a professional journalist. His heartwarming tale began as a poorly dressed boy gathering cans found while rummaging through dumpsters and fraternity houses. With the small income collected from recycling, he was able to purchase an outdated typewriter with missing letters.
For years he worked countless hours at minimum waged jobs but never relinquished his dream. Sleepless nights in his adopted parents' dungeon supplied his only free time to write and he did the best he could evading words requiring the L and R keys. Finally after 15 years of exhausting manual labor and keeping his spirit alive, he got his well-deserved break. He received mainstream acclaim after penning an ecological documentary titled Goba Waming. His piece reversed decades of environmental damage and he became crowned “The Green Savior”.
However, my lack of motivation favors avoiding the back breaking employment and relentless desire so that I can skip instantly to the big break. Thus, I developed the concept of kidnapping family members to expedite the process. Since my overnight writing career has proven to be fruitless, I shall simply move on to other get rich quick schemes. Maybe performing fiery daredevil stunts drenched in rubbing alcohol, becoming a superhero or composing lyrical recipes for a musical cook book. Who knows what crazy ideas I'll come up with next and be too lazy to follow through?
First off, I am far too lazy to put in the necessary research in order to decipher where anyone’s family members reside as well as devise a plan to secretly abduct them. Secondly, I dwell in a small city apartment making it highly unfeasible to house more than several victims simultaneously.
Finally, knowing the warm heart I have, I envision myself treating the captives more like invited guests. In an effort to sooth my conscience I would try to make their stay as pleasant as possible by providing recently released DVDs, offering my catalogue of board games and sharing a vintage bottle of aged whiskey.
Now that I think about it, I would have to tidy up the place, prepare balanced meals and do countless loads of laundry. Those are tasks I barely perform for my own benefit. I would spend so much time fussing about being a respectable host that I’d end up forgetting that the sole purpose of these people inhabiting my humble abode was to exhort their other relatives into reading this.
The whole process would turn into an enormous hassle. After reevaluating, I have concluded that this fiasco would be far more trouble than it was worth. If the only reason you have read the above is for family member safety then I am truly sorry for any state of panic caused and for the waste of your precious time.
Despite my apology for the empty kidnapping threat, I must be honest and inform you that I will declare you as “an idiot” if you don’t read this. My opinion will be that you posses the mental capacity of an infant and I will automatically assume that you were a failure in school and reek of rotten eggs and selfishness………..Alright, I admit it’s unrealistic for me to judge one's intelligence level strictly based on whether this was read and my sense of smell is weak and unreliable. Please forgive me once again as I withdraw my absurd claim.
Alas, let me take a stab at inflicting guilt. If you don't read this piece, I will quit brushing my teeth. That's right, if you forgo reading this, then the burden of my decaying teeth will rest solely upon your shoulders……Okay, I must retreat yet again. There is never an excuse for poor hygiene and I am sure that my mom would forbid me to go through with that unsanitary ploy.
Let me try a non threatening angle that offers prosperity. If you read this piece then you will be blessed with great fortune today. I better add a disclaimer in parenthesis and italics. (If you didn't have a real lucky day, then your luck was that nothing bad happened. If something bad happened then your luck stopped it from getting any worse. If you had the worst day of your life then your luck is that going forward, all your future days will be brighter.)
Alright, I throw in the towel. Presenting open ended fortuitous promises or attempting to deceive people into reading my work is quite superficial and I prefer to believe I am above that. The problem is that I wish to be wealthy and recently picked writing as the path to that accomplishment. The simple premise being, I masterfully sculpt this essay and then someone drops from the sky to offer me unimaginable riches.
I already have the situation detailed in my mind. Mr. Magic Man (Triple M for short) dressed in a tuxedo will slowly float down from the clouds and say “I have come across your material and it's absolutely fantastic. Here is a million dollar check and a job offer to write for my newspaper. As per the agreement, a bikini wearing supermodel will be provided as your secretary and here is the key to the city.”
Of course I would respond with “About time” I mean, “Thank you for the opportunity Sir, you won’t regret it.”
Alright, I know the angel billionaire man scenario sounds ridiculous. I’d love to model my past after a young orphaned boy who was dealt a bad hand in life but yet never gave up the flickering hope to be a professional journalist. His heartwarming tale began as a poorly dressed boy gathering cans found while rummaging through dumpsters and fraternity houses. With the small income collected from recycling, he was able to purchase an outdated typewriter with missing letters.
For years he worked countless hours at minimum waged jobs but never relinquished his dream. Sleepless nights in his adopted parents' dungeon supplied his only free time to write and he did the best he could evading words requiring the L and R keys. Finally after 15 years of exhausting manual labor and keeping his spirit alive, he got his well-deserved break. He received mainstream acclaim after penning an ecological documentary titled Goba Waming. His piece reversed decades of environmental damage and he became crowned “The Green Savior”.
However, my lack of motivation favors avoiding the back breaking employment and relentless desire so that I can skip instantly to the big break. Thus, I developed the concept of kidnapping family members to expedite the process. Since my overnight writing career has proven to be fruitless, I shall simply move on to other get rich quick schemes. Maybe performing fiery daredevil stunts drenched in rubbing alcohol, becoming a superhero or composing lyrical recipes for a musical cook book. Who knows what crazy ideas I'll come up with next and be too lazy to follow through?
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Retirement Press Conference
While screaming vulgarities at a college football game on TV from a box seat on my couch, the sudden notion of how young the players were hit me. I then realized that I may have to accept that my window of opportunity was shut and it would be wise to retire from pursuing my own professional sports career. I am no longer a spring chicken and it takes many more fingers to count back to the year I graduated from college as opposed to the number I tend to believe.
It’s clear, now that I reside in my upper lower thirties that I am probably a tiny tiny bit past my prime. I know that as of yet I haven’t revealed any potential whatsoever in professional sports, but c'mon, lots of times while eating reduced fat potato chips, I thought there is no reason why that can’t be me. I remember many times being stretched out on the living room sofa swishing balled up napkins into the kitchen garbage hoop (pail) or how I am always dodging and spinning by motionless defenders (commuters or shoppers) as I walk up an escalator.
Wait a second! I am in magnificent shape and have the reflexes of a cat. At that precise moment it seemed asinine as to why I didn’t come to this obvious conclusion years earlier.
Next, after convincing myself I am still youthful with my physical prime ahead of me, I began to negotiate rapid ways to advance to elite professional status. With some slight fudging of the numbers, I was able to determine several routes as long as I concentrate and start training immediately following this freshly popped beer. I want to be a sports superstar but not an environmentally unfriendly one with wasteful tendencies.
One road originates with me trying out for a neighborhood team and climbing up the ranks to the big leagues. Another option is enrolling at a local community college for a second major in communications or astrophysics and using intramural sports as a stepping stone. I assume either avenue would quickly lead to me dominating because of my unique combination of skill, hustle and heart. Talent scouts would then start flocking to view my matches and within months, I would be on the verge of signing a multimillion dollar contract.
A few seconds later cold hard reality appeared in the form of a pushup. As I dropped to do one, my body informed me that it was not in cooperation of this plan. There was no way in hell the above sequence of events was occurring and coincidence was not the reason my place is on the bleachers instead of playing on the field. My motivation deteriorated and my roller coaster ride of becoming a professional athlete had concluded. I strolled back to the fridge for another beer because my previous plan consisted of chugging the last one in order to start training.
Unfortunately, in due time I’d end up revisiting my athletic urge by watching something like Olympic bobsledding or World’s Greatest Shark Hunters. Severe doubt would then overwhelm my previous assessment and I would reflect “Why was I such an idiot last season?” I then persuade myself all over again to become a world class athlete, but to make up for lost time, switch to an unpopular sport with fewer competitors.
Eventually, lack of exercise and irrational blame of poor genetics inherited from my parents triumph. Thus the cycle circles again. I quit my shortened badminton career, store newly purchased birdies in the garage and have familiar feeling of disappointment.
With that being said, I am finally laying my reoccurring dream to rest and am announcing my official retirement from professional sports. I’ll weep today, but tomorrow I’ll turn over a brand new leaf and spend time pursuing more plausible goals. No more silly distractions about being the next homerun king, Vienza trophy winner or curling champion. I will shift my attention to writing this literary masterpiece, starring in a blockbuster film as a rock guitar legend and as the final act in my elder age, becoming the first unanimously elected US president.
On the side, I may dabble in adult film making as well and take some astronaut training courses but that’s a little much for my pallet right now. I am not ruling out performing in an adult film on the moon, but I am not going to put emphasis on that feat now. Perhaps I’ll test several actresses’ credibility on a huge air mattress in my spare time but that of course will not be my main focus.
Anyway, by announcing that I withdraw from the world of sports, I’m able to narrow down my to-do list and make it much more feasible to accomplish. If I have an unmanageable amount tasks lined up, I usually skip them all and take a nap. It’s a quite similar situation at my job when my boss wants a special project finished, the compliance officer demands a report to be more within “regulation standards” and the secretary needs the use of my bulging muscles to move heavy file boxes. I’ll think to myself, you know what, there is no way I can accomplish all of that in the requested allotment of time so it’s totally unfair for me to pick one and play favorites. The only logical and unbiased thing to do is, to do none of it.
Okay, I am ready to announce to the world that I am finally retiring from professional athletics. To generate enough publicity for an actual press conference I may have to expand on the truth, be on every street corner handing out fliers and chose a location near a crowded intersection, but I will do it. It is worth the effort so I can make everything official to my mind, friends and scouting agents. It would eliminate all of my annoying flip flopping. I have already rehearsed an opening statement and it would most likely sound like this….
“I want to first thank you all for setting aside precious time from your busy schedules and joining me today. I have gathered you all here to announce that I am gracefully stepping down from every single competitive professional sport.” Then after a brief pause at the podium to compose myself and wipe a tear away with a handkerchief, “This has been an extremely difficult decision for me to make and I have thought it over countless times in my head. With the support of my loving family and friends who are here with me, I believe that the correct choice has been made. I will now direct my full attention to the crowd to answer a select few intimate questions in the limited time remaining.”
Then I would field the typical press conference questions such as… Who are you? How did you know the press would be stuck in traffic here? Can you explain again who you are? Can you please promise to never make a comeback? Have you ever compared your physical build to that of an athlete? Are those hired actors over there portraying your family cause these obviously have superior genes?
I am confident that with some quick thinking and a little guidance from my agent (am in negotiations with a pretend one) I’ll gently steer the conversation towards how I am in the middle of transitioning to a career in writing as well as many other non-athletic agendas. Of course I don’t want people fearing that my next move is disappearing from the public spotlight in order to spend more time with my family. My folks already see me enough and aren’t craving any bonus occasions.
I want everyone assured that this is far from the last of Pete Lopez. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply because I keep retiring from dream occupations I never had a chance of fulfilling or because I have a fairly generic name. It takes a big man to finally admit when it’s time to turn away from something that he loves. It’s never classy to linger around after your time us up. The best thing for me to do is keep my dignity and walk away before I am beaten. There are so many other things left for me to conquer.
It’s clear, now that I reside in my upper lower thirties that I am probably a tiny tiny bit past my prime. I know that as of yet I haven’t revealed any potential whatsoever in professional sports, but c'mon, lots of times while eating reduced fat potato chips, I thought there is no reason why that can’t be me. I remember many times being stretched out on the living room sofa swishing balled up napkins into the kitchen garbage hoop (pail) or how I am always dodging and spinning by motionless defenders (commuters or shoppers) as I walk up an escalator.
Wait a second! I am in magnificent shape and have the reflexes of a cat. At that precise moment it seemed asinine as to why I didn’t come to this obvious conclusion years earlier.
Next, after convincing myself I am still youthful with my physical prime ahead of me, I began to negotiate rapid ways to advance to elite professional status. With some slight fudging of the numbers, I was able to determine several routes as long as I concentrate and start training immediately following this freshly popped beer. I want to be a sports superstar but not an environmentally unfriendly one with wasteful tendencies.
One road originates with me trying out for a neighborhood team and climbing up the ranks to the big leagues. Another option is enrolling at a local community college for a second major in communications or astrophysics and using intramural sports as a stepping stone. I assume either avenue would quickly lead to me dominating because of my unique combination of skill, hustle and heart. Talent scouts would then start flocking to view my matches and within months, I would be on the verge of signing a multimillion dollar contract.
A few seconds later cold hard reality appeared in the form of a pushup. As I dropped to do one, my body informed me that it was not in cooperation of this plan. There was no way in hell the above sequence of events was occurring and coincidence was not the reason my place is on the bleachers instead of playing on the field. My motivation deteriorated and my roller coaster ride of becoming a professional athlete had concluded. I strolled back to the fridge for another beer because my previous plan consisted of chugging the last one in order to start training.
Unfortunately, in due time I’d end up revisiting my athletic urge by watching something like Olympic bobsledding or World’s Greatest Shark Hunters. Severe doubt would then overwhelm my previous assessment and I would reflect “Why was I such an idiot last season?” I then persuade myself all over again to become a world class athlete, but to make up for lost time, switch to an unpopular sport with fewer competitors.
Eventually, lack of exercise and irrational blame of poor genetics inherited from my parents triumph. Thus the cycle circles again. I quit my shortened badminton career, store newly purchased birdies in the garage and have familiar feeling of disappointment.
With that being said, I am finally laying my reoccurring dream to rest and am announcing my official retirement from professional sports. I’ll weep today, but tomorrow I’ll turn over a brand new leaf and spend time pursuing more plausible goals. No more silly distractions about being the next homerun king, Vienza trophy winner or curling champion. I will shift my attention to writing this literary masterpiece, starring in a blockbuster film as a rock guitar legend and as the final act in my elder age, becoming the first unanimously elected US president.
On the side, I may dabble in adult film making as well and take some astronaut training courses but that’s a little much for my pallet right now. I am not ruling out performing in an adult film on the moon, but I am not going to put emphasis on that feat now. Perhaps I’ll test several actresses’ credibility on a huge air mattress in my spare time but that of course will not be my main focus.
Anyway, by announcing that I withdraw from the world of sports, I’m able to narrow down my to-do list and make it much more feasible to accomplish. If I have an unmanageable amount tasks lined up, I usually skip them all and take a nap. It’s a quite similar situation at my job when my boss wants a special project finished, the compliance officer demands a report to be more within “regulation standards” and the secretary needs the use of my bulging muscles to move heavy file boxes. I’ll think to myself, you know what, there is no way I can accomplish all of that in the requested allotment of time so it’s totally unfair for me to pick one and play favorites. The only logical and unbiased thing to do is, to do none of it.
Okay, I am ready to announce to the world that I am finally retiring from professional athletics. To generate enough publicity for an actual press conference I may have to expand on the truth, be on every street corner handing out fliers and chose a location near a crowded intersection, but I will do it. It is worth the effort so I can make everything official to my mind, friends and scouting agents. It would eliminate all of my annoying flip flopping. I have already rehearsed an opening statement and it would most likely sound like this….
“I want to first thank you all for setting aside precious time from your busy schedules and joining me today. I have gathered you all here to announce that I am gracefully stepping down from every single competitive professional sport.” Then after a brief pause at the podium to compose myself and wipe a tear away with a handkerchief, “This has been an extremely difficult decision for me to make and I have thought it over countless times in my head. With the support of my loving family and friends who are here with me, I believe that the correct choice has been made. I will now direct my full attention to the crowd to answer a select few intimate questions in the limited time remaining.”
Then I would field the typical press conference questions such as… Who are you? How did you know the press would be stuck in traffic here? Can you explain again who you are? Can you please promise to never make a comeback? Have you ever compared your physical build to that of an athlete? Are those hired actors over there portraying your family cause these obviously have superior genes?
I am confident that with some quick thinking and a little guidance from my agent (am in negotiations with a pretend one) I’ll gently steer the conversation towards how I am in the middle of transitioning to a career in writing as well as many other non-athletic agendas. Of course I don’t want people fearing that my next move is disappearing from the public spotlight in order to spend more time with my family. My folks already see me enough and aren’t craving any bonus occasions.
I want everyone assured that this is far from the last of Pete Lopez. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply because I keep retiring from dream occupations I never had a chance of fulfilling or because I have a fairly generic name. It takes a big man to finally admit when it’s time to turn away from something that he loves. It’s never classy to linger around after your time us up. The best thing for me to do is keep my dignity and walk away before I am beaten. There are so many other things left for me to conquer.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Short Doses
Here is an example of a fast joke. Pete (me) is not sure if he is ready for a child yet, but he wants to practice trying to have one more often. Entire joke is imprisoned right there and then I am allowed to move on to more noble things. Of course that quick gag is not much of a story, so let’s see if I can stretch the one liner and take the reader on a magnificent journey. I could slowly drag them up a mountain of suspense and generate a punch line of massive proportions. Maybe this works?
Last weekend I visited a former college drinking buddy who recently purchased some land and built a home on it. I am proud of how he has grown; he has a beautiful wife and even one of those kid thingamajigs. I just don’t share that much in common with youngsters as of yet. We can happily coexist for an hour or two since they are an easy audience if entertained in daylight. I could try out new PG material about girls I am dating with nice “personalities” or do some juggling. Not to brag, but I do posses the ability to keep oranges or grenades airborne for at least 11 seconds before they plummet to the floor. It’s a win win situation. Children gaze in amazement as the balls circle around and then find it hysterical when they tumble down stairs leaking juice or roll under the couch and explode.
Later, though, after the enjoyment has ceased, we usually have a difference of opinion of how to continue the evening and split on our merry ways. At night their fatigue leads to crankiness and screaming about having to brush their teeth. I tend to be emotionless about the tooth hygiene process and still have plenty of energy left for nighttime debauchery. The local bar always has something happening and as of yet, I still haven’t given up on the dream of picking up several hot girls at a bar and returning home with them.
Well, that’s when the problems arise. Unfortunately the needs of a young one trump my own. I could adventure out unsupervised and inebriated and it’s perfectly normal but leaving a child alone is typically frowned upon and possibly dangerous, even if left securely chained to a cushioned folding chair.
I recall my friend had to even plan my visit in advance by scheduling babysitters and placing the poison control hotline number by the phone. My preparation began the night before when I gathered some clean appearing clothes and shoved them into a duffle bag. The response time I require is minimal and my responsibility level is inferior. I’d rate it perfect for low maintenance plants that get thirsty approx once a week. Sometimes I am absent minded and water twice a week or sometimes I forget for an entire month, we are talking average here. I have this bad habit of remembering to water it at times when I am unable to. Say I’m stuck late at the office solving complex quadratic equations, donating at a blood bank or way too hung-over to mix hydrogen and oxygen into a watering can, I’ll think to myself, “Damn, I haven’t watered my plant in ages. I’ll have to spoil it with some bottled water next time.”
I have also tinkered with the idea of upgrading to sparkling water or a mimosa but have yet to follow through. In theory it sounds quite rewarding to the taste buds of the flora but I am nervous the species fails to share the advanced desire for complex liquids. In the meantime I will stick with regular tap water until nature takes the first step and clouds begin raining tastier liquids.
Anyway, with a kid you can’t be negligent for a week or two but make amends with a trip to the amusement park for roller coasters and stuffed animals. Sure the child would love the tradeoff because they are only able to process the fun part of the deal and don’t understand the consequences. In my new adult role, I’d be skeptical they have the preserving traits of a cactus and follow the teachings of Smokey the Bear.
That is not even considering the risk of social services arresting me for child abandonment. Discarded plants can live for eternity as compost and a dead fish can be flushed up to heaven without fearing criminal charges. A toddler though, society has a problem with disposing of ones failed regardless if I sign up for adult education course and promise to improve next time. I am a firm believer in learning from mistakes and would never repeat the same error, but something about children and second chances doesn’t flow that well with the public.
After putting this all in perspective I place myself as having the capability of caring for a camel, a robot with strong battery power, a carton of milk with a lengthy expiration date or a highly independent cat, possibly even having its own home. I’m confident a puppy would be able to survive in my care but probably not thrive and I anticipate lots of frustration on my behalf. I hear myself ranting things like “Can’t that dog feed itself, I do” or “Would it kill the dog to do the dishes just once?” I think as an overall, (drum roll please) I am not sure I am ready for a child, but I want to go out and practice trying to have one.
Looking back afterward, that explanation did not succeed the way in which I intended it to. I was perfectly satisfied with my short one line joke. Instead, I now exposed myself as an irresponsible loser who is incapable of providing for children because my top priorities are getting intoxicated and womanizing. In the one line remark I was appeared witty and nobody grew aware of any of my faults. Adding more dialogue is not in my best interest and I have learned a valuable lesson about conserving myself to short doses.
Last weekend I visited a former college drinking buddy who recently purchased some land and built a home on it. I am proud of how he has grown; he has a beautiful wife and even one of those kid thingamajigs. I just don’t share that much in common with youngsters as of yet. We can happily coexist for an hour or two since they are an easy audience if entertained in daylight. I could try out new PG material about girls I am dating with nice “personalities” or do some juggling. Not to brag, but I do posses the ability to keep oranges or grenades airborne for at least 11 seconds before they plummet to the floor. It’s a win win situation. Children gaze in amazement as the balls circle around and then find it hysterical when they tumble down stairs leaking juice or roll under the couch and explode.
Later, though, after the enjoyment has ceased, we usually have a difference of opinion of how to continue the evening and split on our merry ways. At night their fatigue leads to crankiness and screaming about having to brush their teeth. I tend to be emotionless about the tooth hygiene process and still have plenty of energy left for nighttime debauchery. The local bar always has something happening and as of yet, I still haven’t given up on the dream of picking up several hot girls at a bar and returning home with them.
Well, that’s when the problems arise. Unfortunately the needs of a young one trump my own. I could adventure out unsupervised and inebriated and it’s perfectly normal but leaving a child alone is typically frowned upon and possibly dangerous, even if left securely chained to a cushioned folding chair.
I recall my friend had to even plan my visit in advance by scheduling babysitters and placing the poison control hotline number by the phone. My preparation began the night before when I gathered some clean appearing clothes and shoved them into a duffle bag. The response time I require is minimal and my responsibility level is inferior. I’d rate it perfect for low maintenance plants that get thirsty approx once a week. Sometimes I am absent minded and water twice a week or sometimes I forget for an entire month, we are talking average here. I have this bad habit of remembering to water it at times when I am unable to. Say I’m stuck late at the office solving complex quadratic equations, donating at a blood bank or way too hung-over to mix hydrogen and oxygen into a watering can, I’ll think to myself, “Damn, I haven’t watered my plant in ages. I’ll have to spoil it with some bottled water next time.”
I have also tinkered with the idea of upgrading to sparkling water or a mimosa but have yet to follow through. In theory it sounds quite rewarding to the taste buds of the flora but I am nervous the species fails to share the advanced desire for complex liquids. In the meantime I will stick with regular tap water until nature takes the first step and clouds begin raining tastier liquids.
Anyway, with a kid you can’t be negligent for a week or two but make amends with a trip to the amusement park for roller coasters and stuffed animals. Sure the child would love the tradeoff because they are only able to process the fun part of the deal and don’t understand the consequences. In my new adult role, I’d be skeptical they have the preserving traits of a cactus and follow the teachings of Smokey the Bear.
That is not even considering the risk of social services arresting me for child abandonment. Discarded plants can live for eternity as compost and a dead fish can be flushed up to heaven without fearing criminal charges. A toddler though, society has a problem with disposing of ones failed regardless if I sign up for adult education course and promise to improve next time. I am a firm believer in learning from mistakes and would never repeat the same error, but something about children and second chances doesn’t flow that well with the public.
After putting this all in perspective I place myself as having the capability of caring for a camel, a robot with strong battery power, a carton of milk with a lengthy expiration date or a highly independent cat, possibly even having its own home. I’m confident a puppy would be able to survive in my care but probably not thrive and I anticipate lots of frustration on my behalf. I hear myself ranting things like “Can’t that dog feed itself, I do” or “Would it kill the dog to do the dishes just once?” I think as an overall, (drum roll please) I am not sure I am ready for a child, but I want to go out and practice trying to have one.
Looking back afterward, that explanation did not succeed the way in which I intended it to. I was perfectly satisfied with my short one line joke. Instead, I now exposed myself as an irresponsible loser who is incapable of providing for children because my top priorities are getting intoxicated and womanizing. In the one line remark I was appeared witty and nobody grew aware of any of my faults. Adding more dialogue is not in my best interest and I have learned a valuable lesson about conserving myself to short doses.
Monday, August 2, 2010
It had to start somewhere
After five spaces for indentation (which google deleted so now it's just a metaphor), I nervously begin the initial sentence for my first ever blog. For reference purposes, I am using an outdated laptop and since I posses neither a globe nor calendar, my estimations are that I am geographically located in the heart of the Northern Hemisphere and it’s a generic week day evening sometime in the middle of August 2007.
As of this second, I contemplated going to bed, but the damage has already been done. The vast emptiness of a blank, dusty, white screen has mocked me long enough about being too cowardly to go through with this. I have officially surrendered to the blogger calling despite my enormous fear of butchering every grammar rule in the English language and offending syntax worshipers across the land. Instead I have now concluded that the sooner I go to bed, the sooner the pain of arising the following morning for work will arrive. The better idea is to resist the urge to slumber with the burden of an unproductive night on my hands and stretch this evening out for a bit longer.
Wait. I take that back, and apologize for being a smidgen of a liar. I did complete some light sweeping of my wooden bedroom floor prior to this so the night is not an entire waste. I can be worry-free about crud collecting on the bottom of my glorious feet while traveling to the bathroom tomorrow morning, but that is no longer sufficient. I have decided to be extremely greedy and add originating a successful blog to my output tonight. Is there any time better then the present? As of right now I have absolutely no intention of informing anyone that this blog exists, so what do I have to lose? I am unaware if the person was wise or when it happened, but I am sure someone has said to me, “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can accomplish today.”
Besides, if I go to bed at midnight as opposed to 1 a.m. or 2 a.m., will it really make that much of a difference? I am going to be tired tomorrow regardless, and it’s not like there are separate stages of tiredness. It’s either being tired or not. I have yet to witness some sort of ranking system where I can say, “God, I am slowly approaching Stage VI tiredness.” Also, if I ventured to work appearing bright-eyed, it would feel awkward and interrupt my normal flow. It may even result in a domino effect and disrupt coworker’s usual routine if they saw my shining face and heard me communicate using coherent words instead of a series of grumbles with my face pointing at the floor.
So, I now begin as a single man (meaning – no help from others, as opposed to someone not in a relationship), with a dream that has yet to die, a trusted sidekick plant perched on my window ledge beside me that I wish I remembered to water more often, and a laptop that has emphysema, since opening multiple windows causes sounds congruent to a smoker attempting to run a few blocks. I cross my fingers – but quickly uncross as it became quite uncomfortable to type properly and effectively. Now with mental fingers crossed, I hope that this is an introduction that is read worldwide and believed to be an important link in the evolutionary chain of literary genius.... Okay, fine, I’ll just be content if people read and say, “Well, it was certainly better than a punch in the gut or a martini glass splashed in the eyes.”
With that being said – and the imagination that this forward is about three inspiring pages longer with fantastic beginning insight that gets you pumped up like a great speech from the high school football coach before the huge homecoming game followed by sexy cheerleaders chanting your name as you step through the painted white lines – with great pleasure from a chair atop a shinning floor, I proudly present….Wait, wait, stop the momentum. I am panicking about being that arrogant since I haven’t submitted any entries and my floor, albeit clean, is still rather dull. Let me start over….
With the dashing back and forth, abrupt hesitance of a squirrel crossing a busy intersection, I now from a variation between quite proudly and embarrassed beyond belief – announce from a tidy floor, the launching of the new blog “The Road to Absolute Zero”
As of this second, I contemplated going to bed, but the damage has already been done. The vast emptiness of a blank, dusty, white screen has mocked me long enough about being too cowardly to go through with this. I have officially surrendered to the blogger calling despite my enormous fear of butchering every grammar rule in the English language and offending syntax worshipers across the land. Instead I have now concluded that the sooner I go to bed, the sooner the pain of arising the following morning for work will arrive. The better idea is to resist the urge to slumber with the burden of an unproductive night on my hands and stretch this evening out for a bit longer.
Wait. I take that back, and apologize for being a smidgen of a liar. I did complete some light sweeping of my wooden bedroom floor prior to this so the night is not an entire waste. I can be worry-free about crud collecting on the bottom of my glorious feet while traveling to the bathroom tomorrow morning, but that is no longer sufficient. I have decided to be extremely greedy and add originating a successful blog to my output tonight. Is there any time better then the present? As of right now I have absolutely no intention of informing anyone that this blog exists, so what do I have to lose? I am unaware if the person was wise or when it happened, but I am sure someone has said to me, “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can accomplish today.”
Besides, if I go to bed at midnight as opposed to 1 a.m. or 2 a.m., will it really make that much of a difference? I am going to be tired tomorrow regardless, and it’s not like there are separate stages of tiredness. It’s either being tired or not. I have yet to witness some sort of ranking system where I can say, “God, I am slowly approaching Stage VI tiredness.” Also, if I ventured to work appearing bright-eyed, it would feel awkward and interrupt my normal flow. It may even result in a domino effect and disrupt coworker’s usual routine if they saw my shining face and heard me communicate using coherent words instead of a series of grumbles with my face pointing at the floor.
So, I now begin as a single man (meaning – no help from others, as opposed to someone not in a relationship), with a dream that has yet to die, a trusted sidekick plant perched on my window ledge beside me that I wish I remembered to water more often, and a laptop that has emphysema, since opening multiple windows causes sounds congruent to a smoker attempting to run a few blocks. I cross my fingers – but quickly uncross as it became quite uncomfortable to type properly and effectively. Now with mental fingers crossed, I hope that this is an introduction that is read worldwide and believed to be an important link in the evolutionary chain of literary genius.... Okay, fine, I’ll just be content if people read and say, “Well, it was certainly better than a punch in the gut or a martini glass splashed in the eyes.”
With that being said – and the imagination that this forward is about three inspiring pages longer with fantastic beginning insight that gets you pumped up like a great speech from the high school football coach before the huge homecoming game followed by sexy cheerleaders chanting your name as you step through the painted white lines – with great pleasure from a chair atop a shinning floor, I proudly present….Wait, wait, stop the momentum. I am panicking about being that arrogant since I haven’t submitted any entries and my floor, albeit clean, is still rather dull. Let me start over….
With the dashing back and forth, abrupt hesitance of a squirrel crossing a busy intersection, I now from a variation between quite proudly and embarrassed beyond belief – announce from a tidy floor, the launching of the new blog “The Road to Absolute Zero”
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