So the question nobody's been asking is, just what the hell has Martin Stanley been doing lately? Well, I'll tell ya, in no structured form.
I quit smoking. Except when I drink, that's a gimme. "But you're always drinking!" Yeah… well, we'll tackle that one in 2012.
I'm back in school. Again. School by the way drives me fucking insane. For instance, who the fuck names these buildings? "And on the right is the Dennis Anderson Grave Digger Monster Truck Hall." Oh neato! And what do they teach there? "Botany." Ahhh, that makes sense, because he drives on dirt, and flowers come from the dirt. "Over here we have the Percy Cockington building." Who is that? "Percy Cockington donated a vast sum of money to the school… so we gave him a building."
Don't refer to a newborn as a "new addition." A new addition is a climate controlled sunroom off the back porch.I'm a simple creature; for me I'd just rather see SCIENCE BUILDING, MATH HALL, GYM. Instead, when asking directions to my next class I get, "Go past Dingleberry Hall, make a left at the Jean Grey Library for Gifted Youngsters, when you pass the Carlos Hathcock cafeteria you'll be facing the Jeffery Skilling School of Business Ethics building and there you are!" I really don't know if I just got directions or participated in a murder mystery game.
Even when applied to real life, calculus still makes you wonder, "WHY??"Also, tell me this isn't a fucking scam, these ridiculous books. How the hell is it we used to do a full year in high school with one damn book per class that cost around a hundred bucks, but for college I need four books that cost upwards of $150 each for three months of one class? "Okay, this semester we'll be using ‘Calculus,' ‘Calculus: Graphs and Charts,' ‘Calculus: Lab Exercise,' and ‘Scratch Paper 4th Edition.'" Wait, what was that last book? "Scratch Paper 4th Edition. It's scratch paper but at the top of each sheet in cursive it says ‘Scratch Paper.'" You're a fucking idiot, you know that? "Sir, would you please excuse yourself from the class!" Fuck you, I'm going to roll your house with Toilet Paper 2nd Edition.
Here's something else that drives me bat shit crazy. I had an eighth grade teacher a few semesters ago. I have no problem with eighth grade teachers, and I have no problem with eighth grade teachers who also teach night classes. But don't teach the fucking class like we're in the eighth fucking grade. Next to my wrong answers she'd put a frowny face. Look Mrs. Whisker Biscuit, if you're going to draw this shit all over my test then don't be shocked if I come to a problem I don't understand and I draw a big middle finger as my answer.
About a year ago I made a comment about how all my friends were having kids. Since then all my friends who didn't have kids at the time read that and said, "Fuck you! We're having kids." And this is fine. But don't refer to a newborn as a "new addition." A new addition is a climate controlled sunroom off the back porch. "Awww, Precious Sweet Baby Travis is a perfect new addition." Precious Sweet Baby Travis? That's a weird name for an assault rifle. A new addition would be the purchase of a miniature spoon with an artist's rendition of the tourist trap on the handle. "We were walking through Target and they had the most adorable babies on clearance. We just had to get one; it'd make such a nice addition to the guest room."
On the topic of shit you need to stop saying, quit using this expression: "Look on the bright side." Look on the bright side is like saying, thank God I didn't get fucked like you just did, allow me to offer some trite optimism to further infuriate you. "Sorry you lost your job, but look on the bright side, you didn't have to turn in all those company polo shirts!" Oh great, now I have 13 "Bob's Bacon Bungalow" shirts to wear while searching for jobs. It's like I can wear my resume on my sleeve! "Sorry your house burned to the ground, but look on the bright side, at least you had your iPhone in your pocket, so… you can still play Angry Birds."
When I close a door, I lock it and commence masturbation. Who gives a shit about the window? "When God closes a door, he opens a window." Wait… are you being robbed… by God? What the fuck does that even mean? Do you not have central air conditioning? Do you live in a hut in Botswana? (P.S. The Sound of Music sucks.)
"Been working like a dog." And just what the hell do you do for a living? Puke up grass and lick your balls? Strippers are the only people who have a profession similar to that of a dog, because only strippers and dogs dry hump you while you're still wearing jeans. Oh, I get it, you're a Seeing Eye Human.
Ready for something else that pisses me off? I didn't want to degrade myself into doing poop jokes but I've already done gay, Asian, black, Latino, cyclists, paraplegic, and fat jokes… so, here we go. If I'm doing my business at the office, and someone else walks to the urinal, DON'T FUCKING TALK TO ME!
"Hey there, Martin!"
(silence)
"I see your shoes, that's how I knew it was you, lolz."
(silence)
"Hey, what do you think of Sargento cheese?"
(silence)
"I love it."
(pause)
"But honestly, it's not that much better than store brand."
(silence)
"I like it finely shredded… mmmm."
(silence)
"Hey, do you have cat?"
(silence)
"You're awfully quiet. Whatcha doing for lunch? Wanna go play badminton Sunday? What's your favorite extinct marsupial? LOLZ, I'm wearing a black sock and a navy blue sock. What would be the first question you'd ask a dog if you could talk to dogs? My breath smells like antifreeze."
"Good talking to ya."
Look, if your bare penis is three feet from my head and I'm not wearing pants… don't fucking talk to me… you're throwing off my intense game of Bejeweled. It's simple bathroom etiquette.
So yeah, summer's been great. Now leave me alone.