Let’s talk sadness.
I know – I talk about sadness a LOT. It’s enough already. As such I’m not going to lament my currenttale of woe, although I will say that it may have involved running out of peach Fresca at my parent’s house yesterday which is total bullshit. I’m kidding. My problems are much worse than that. Like Africa bad.
Okay, it’s that time again where I give back. No, I’m not donating blood or ladling out soup at the shelter. You can go do that, though. Someone has to. Have fun. It’s time for my monthly day of free advertising for your crappy well-written blog! Here are the rules, mofos:
I realized about three years ago when I started therapy that I’m actually a dark person.
I remember being drawn to comedy at a young age – sneaking downstairs to watch HBO comedy specials laughing hysterically at well-crafted jokes by Buddy Hackett and Rodney Dangerfield. Bill Cosby’s Himself remains one of my absolute favorite sets. These were heroes of mine.
I was called a narcissist a few days ago by a reader.
I recently crossed over the five thousand mark in comments on they blog. I would say 99% are positive/funny responses to posts I’ve written. Once in awhile I invoke someone’s ire.
This particular reader yelled at me in a private email writing that I am a crazed narcissist and with all the hurt I cause my girlfriend I need to remember that I’m the lucky one to have her in my life. One of my comedy heroes, Marc Maron, has a response to a women whenever one starts passing judgement from the audience and interrupting his set. He’s a fantastic comic and talks openly about all his challenges. I try to do the same thing here. Anyway, his response is to look at the woman with compassion and then say, “I’m really sorry for what he did to you.” It’s one of the greatest power-move dismissals ever.
Let me introduce you to the other D.J. Paris.
He’s a gay Asian from New York.
I know this because back in 1998 when I stumbled across his website, this is what appeared as his tagline. I was simply looking to see if there was, in fact, a djparis.com. Turns out there absolutely was and is.
This post will not fall under the general hilarity that is my regular musing wit.
I am in a funk tonight. I had an exhausting (but good) day at work. Something incredibly shitty happened at the end that sent me off into a rage. As someone that has avoided his feelings most of his life I do not yet handle extremes well. Things like anger and sadness and fear hit me very hard. In the past I never learned how to sit or tolerate them. I learned that the best thing to do was to run from them.
I have a habit where I make a bunch of promises that, in the moment, seem perfectly doable.
Then a few days go by and I realize, “Ugh, I don’t want to do this at all.” In the past month alone I thought of writing an ebook unrelated to this blog, starting a site for male humor bloggers, and working on a podcast. The podcast thing is actually happening, and we’ll see how it goes. But, if after a few episodes it turns into a bust, oh well.
There is one hair that grows on the underside of my chin pointed the wrong direction.
I shave with an electric razor which does a good job in that area. It’s completely smooth when I’m finished. Except for that one hair. No matter how many times I go over that spot in whichever direction it doesn’t get cut. If I don’t shave for a few days and then use the razor, it does get cut, but just the same as if I shaved every day.
Many things that I write about are unexpected. Here’s another one.
I got my haircut last night and, while driving home, called Jessica (the girlfriend). Wait, I’d like to back up a step and complain about something. Okay, if you read my stuff you know I bicycle to work and it’s pretty strenuous. I go to one of these high-end salons in the Gold Coast of Chicago off Michigan Avenue. For three years I’ve been a patron, and for three years I’ve biked there. I arrive covered in sweat with the helmet, my gross bike clothes, and my dog in a backpack. They couldn’t be nicer about it. During the winter months I take the subway still with dog in tow.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
