“Showing people how to pull a doughnut out of the trashcan of life since today, June 8, 2011.”
Tip One: Don’t Slam Your Head into a Watermelon
Honestly, no good can come of that. I have never seen this done completely successfully (read, without at least a slight concussion and possibly some broken face-bones). And, honestly, why the heck would you wanna do this, anyway? On a dare? To win…what? Some of your dignity back? Because when that melon knocks you out like Rocky Balboa and doesn’t even break a sweat, what kind of dignity do you have then, Melon-Boy? And how did you lose your dignity so badly in the first place that you thought head-butting a watermelon would help you get it back?
Look, I’m just trying to spare you the agony of broken face bones, a concussion, pricey medical bills, and, even worse, the embarrassment of having to explain to people what, exactly, happened. And, trust me, if you’re going to do this against someone, they’re going to win, just because you’re dumb enough to slam your head down on a thick, heavy piece of fruit in the first place against somebody else as dumb as you (and your mother told you that wasn’t possible!). So take my advice or don’t; just remember, if you don’t, even if you’re wearing heavy medieval body armor on your head, the freaking melon will win.
And you’ll never get that dignity back. Whatever dignity you had in the first place.
Tip Two: If You’re Not Going to Ride the Bull, Don’t Sign Onto the Bull-riding Show
People have a fascination with rodeos, cowboys, bulls, whatever. I’m fine with that; I’m a bit of a redneck myself, if you must know. But you know what I’m not fine with? Recently, I noticed that there’s something very disturbing going on in reality/challenge shows: There’s always that One Guy. It doesn’t matter what genre the show is, or what: Fear Factor, Celebrity…anything…There’s the One Guy who signs up for it and then complains when he actually has to do it.
What is the matter with you, One Guy? When you sign up to ride a bull on cable TV for minimal pay and maximum pain, what, exactly, do you think is going to happen? You think that the bull is going to just sit there, and walk around the ring like a freaking pony, carrying you on its back, think you’re the One Guy who’s not going to get thrown off? It’s Rodeo Challenge or whatever; you didn’t sign up for My Little Pony’s Super Circus Adventure. The bull is going to throw you and it is going to hurt. Deal with it. You probably think you’re magic, don’t you, you and all the other One Guys out there, think that one touch from you and the bull will become as docile as a newborn puppy, when in fact it is not and not only that, but it has tossed guys up to Mars who have chunks of guys like you in their stool. And when you come down...it will hurt. More than when you got rejected by Mary Ellen Sue or whoever in the fifth grade.
And all you squeamish people who join on Fear Factor…don’t. While it is entertaining to watch you throw a hissy fit because you have to stick your hand in fried worm guts and then drink blended frog eggs or something and know we don’t have to do it because we’re not that laughably pathetic or strapped for money…don’t. You’ve seen the show; you’ve seen what they do. And you think they’re gonna let you off easy? Think again, Wormy. You’re gonna end up face-down in a trough of pig guts and live rats. Yum. Enjoy, One Guy. We certainly will.
But you know what we’d enjoy even more? If you weren’t there in the first place, you bull-riding gut-eating One Guy. You’re the only one. Pansy. No, I'm not saying I could do it, either. But that's why you don't see me on the next edition of Bloggers on Bulls. I, at least, am taking my own advice. I shall not be that One Guy. That's why I can criticize you for actually being him. Or her. Here, let's be unisexual: wuss. That better? No? Then shut up or shove out. Some of us actually need that bull-riding money.
Now, where'd my ten-gallon hat go?
Tip Three: Don’t Pee in Public Places
This tip’s gonna be brief, mostly because the name kind of says it all (darn you name, for trying to get my job!). Obviously, the exception would be public restrooms, Porta Potties (though I would advise against that one). I mean, don’t walk over to a street corner and unzip and let loose. This, I would think, is harder if you're a girl, but certainly if you were drunk and/or determined enough, you could do it. But that does not mean you should. You should not. It stains and is unhygenic--imagine a kid playing where you peed, eeww! And, also, the smell will never really go away, depending on where you are when you feel the call of the wild (also, for a while there, I thought that movie was about this, peeing in places you shouldn't).And, depending on where you are when you pee, there could be fines and/or some jail time involved with that if you're caught, which you almost always are. And you know what it's like to pee in prison. It's one of the few places where you could get shanked while you're trying to take a whizz, unless you owe the mob some money or you punked out and ratted or something.
And for all you drunken frat guys out there, like the moron I saw on World’s Dumbest Criminals last night (who was arrested by bike cops, FYI), don’t pee in somebody’s gas tank, all right? It’s not worth the damage. Pee yourself. It’s a lot cheaper to buy new pants than a new engine for the random guy whose car you violated. Oh, it's funny? Tell that to the huge guy who comes after you for whizzing in the gas tank of his hard-worked-for Beemer. It's really not that great an accomplishment either. And if you think it is, your mother was probably right.
And if you’ll excuse me, I have to check my car. I think some frat guy might have peed in it.
Tip Four: Don’t Poke Vicious Animals with Sticks
This, like slamming your head down onto a watermelon, never ends well for anybody—usually, not even the animal, because, you know, if some teenage idiot in a zoo is poking a naturally vicious tiger with a stick through the bars of its enclosure and the tiger gets angry and bites the stupid teenager’s hand off, it’s the tiger’s fault and the tiger has to get put down.
But that’s another rant.
This one is about all the fools I have seen (usually on World’s Dumbest or the Animal Planet) who think that they're Doctor Doolittle or freaking Tarzan and can jump on a crocodile's back and walk over it and the crocodile won't roll over in the death roll and take a nice big chunk out of you...before it's made into some boots and a purse. But no matter how many times it happens and no matter how many people lose life, limbs, and fingers to an animal they were antagonizing just moments before, the other idiots out there just don't learn. Whose idea was it, anyway, that as an attraction as a zoo in Taiwan some guys should poke an alligator with a (not very long) stick, and were they really that surprised that it attacked them?
And it’s not just crocodiles, alligators, Godzilla, or other giant reptiles; no, it’s lions and tigers and bears (oh my), as well as various other animals that are, you know, wild and cannot be domesticated. Even if a lion is born in captivity and raised in a zoo with humans around, Simba and Nala will never completely lose the urge to bite and or/shred and kill anything that attacks them...and they will see poking them with a stick as attacking them. At the very least, it will irritate them, and last time I checked, lions and other large animals with claws and sharp teeth do not (like me) handle irritation very well.
And, of course, you would think that everybody would know by now that sharks live to bite/shred/kill/destroy things that move and go near them...but you would be wrong. I was watching TV and an "experienced" (that's in quotes because, trust me, I don't know how much weight that word carries for him after what he did) scuba diving instructor (!!!!) took his class into a deep pool with nurse sharks...and told them to kiss them on their faces and, like, hold them and stuff. Yeah. Not the other students. The sharks. The small-but-vicious, deadly, etc., sharks. He went first to demonstrate...and had to be rushed to the hospital because the shark bit his nose off.
No, it wasn’t poking it with a stick, but it was still pretty darn stupid. Tip Five: Never Give Up but Know When to Give Up
I don’t mean give up forever. Since this is my dream profession, I’ll use the example I know best: writing. If a publishing company does not accept your manuscript the first time, do not throw it out and/or become an alcoholic. Send it to another one or polish it a little bit and try it again. Pay attention to what they write to you when they reject it and send it back, if they're one of the few companies that do that and not just send form letters. Take their advice seriously because they know what they want (but don't be afraid not to if what they want would change your story completely or get away from what you are trying to tell). If they still don't want it, move on. Go somewhere else. You don't need them anyway.
By the title, I mean that you should not give up completely but know when to give up and move on to a different aspect of your venture. If your manuscript is rejected by the same company 100+ times, you might want to think about giving up on that particular publisher and finding another. Don't ever give up on your dreams, but if one particular way of going about your dream just isn't working out for you, give up on and try to find another way.
This may be the one contradiction that actually makes sense when it's explained out.
Tip Six: Don’t Be Sad Because It’s Over; Be Glad Because it Happened
It’s been said a million times, at countless graduations (but who would actually miss school?) and other events. But in some cases, it’s actually true.
Take me, for example. On Friday, at three PM, while I am recovering from having four wisdom teeth cut out of my face, 94 WYSP, which I have only begun to enjoy, shall be taken off to make way for sports radio. Crap. And I have cried many a time over it. And yes, I am serious about the crying part. I love them and their music and their segments and their DJs and…
All right, you catch my drift. And if you don’t, get a bigger net. What I’m trying to say is that Spike, the DJ in the afternoon, was talking last week, and he was saying that it would be so easy to be angry and sad over this and spend every segment weeping over loss and stuff, but instead they were going to be celebrating the “life” of WYSP (and yes, I will be making an obituary for it once the deed is done) and have the old DJs come back one last time and reminisce fondly and play old, memorable segments and stuff like that, and that struck a chord with me. I mean, of course you can be sad when you have to leave something or someone or something or someone leaves you, but you don’t have to kill yourself with misery over it. You don’t have to let yourself be so sad or angry or frozen that you can’t remember the good times or think “Remember when…?” without bursting into tears and ruining the scene by tainting it with grief.
Grief is healthy (and yes, I know that there are people out there with worse problems than me, especially after Irene, but it’s only an example) and you need to go through it before you can even think about healing again. And no, you’re right, things will never be exactly the same way they were before whatever happened happened. But they can be good again. And if you keep the memories happy instead of dumping them in a huge bucket of grieving tears, they will be. Trust me. I may not be a certified LifeCoach, but I play one on the internet.
Tip Seven: Use Your Noodle—Don’t Noodle
For those of you who don’t know exactly what noodling is or how it’s done, thank God you have me to explain, because it’s one of those things that sounds different from what it really is—but not a whole lot better.
Noodling is a way of catching catfish—by shoving your arm down into the water where the catfish live and waiting for one to clamp down on your flesh with its teeth. Big catfish, sharp teeth, human flesh—what could go wrong? Doesn’t that sound great?
Honestly, people, who would want to do this? I only found out about it because of World’s Dumbest Competitions—I think it was either 3 or 4. I thought that that was just, like, an isolated incident, a group of people down South who the media focuses on so they can continue to make all Southern people seem like inbred, poor, retarded hicks who kill outsiders and play the banjo. But then, like a week later, comes Hillbilly Handfishin’. Yep, that’s right—a reality show about people who shove their limbs into rivers to catch fish with sharp teeth. A show that may even pull off the rare feat of showcasting people who are dumber than those freaking morons on Jersey Shore, and who kind of do the same thing—give their respective peoples a bad name. Not all Southerners are idiots who noodle, and not all of us in Jersey are stupid juicehead guidos. Okay?
So, just do me a favor, people. Next time your buddies say that they want to go out catfishing, make sure they have actual rods and reels. I mean, people invented fishing gear so we wouldn’t have to noodle, like our cavemen ancestors did. What, are you too good for a rod? Is this a thing to prove how “manly” you are? Or do you just want to take “Hey, I got a bite” to a whole new (Everest-high), stupid level? Because if that’s it, then you’ll also have to take yourself to the emergency room when you’re done so doctors who will laugh at you as soon as you’re out of earshot can pry the giant freaking catfish off your arm.
Tip Eight: Laugh Often or You Will Die
It's true. It's an actual medical fact that if you do not laugh at least five times a day every day, you will die an escpecially early and painful death.
All right, so I made that part up. But honestly, all sorts of studies have shown that laughing dramatically helps your health (and can even melt off calories, you cake-lovers). I'm here to help you through all kinds of crazy crises and believe me, I know plenty of people who don't laugh as often as they should (my best friend's goldfish, for example, and the squirrel who lives across the street--and I think the people who live in the cemetery near my grandmother's house could use a good chuckle) and who, therefore, aren't living the kind of lives they could be if they would only laugh more.
I don't care what you laugh at--fat people trying to dodge traffic on a busy highway so they can make it to the all-you-can-eat-buffet before they run out of chicken wings (you know, the really good ones), "adult" comedies, frat-boy humor, people leaving for work and ending up ice-skating to their car on their rear ends, World's Dumbest, those shows that show people dying in horribly ironic ways, the idiots being picked off one-by-one in horror movies because they refuse to smarten up--anything that gets the chuckles going. It can even be mixed in with a serious subject, such as politics: I like to laugh whenever a liberal loser (well, they're all losers, in their own special ways) says something about us in the GOP wanting to kill crippled cookie-making grandmas and punch kids in wheelchairs until they roll down the steps or whatever. Stupidity makes me giggle.
And remember that no matter what you laugh at or how loud you laugh, you'll be increasing your life expectancy by about eighteen-and-a-million percent.
And yes, I just made that up, too.
Tip Eight: Laugh Often or You Will Die
It's true. It's an actual medical fact that if you do not laugh at least five times a day every day, you will die an escpecially early and painful death.
All right, so I made that part up. But honestly, all sorts of studies have shown that laughing dramatically helps your health (and can even melt off calories, you cake-lovers). I'm here to help you through all kinds of crazy crises and believe me, I know plenty of people who don't laugh as often as they should (my best friend's goldfish, for example, and the squirrel who lives across the street--and I think the people who live in the cemetery near my grandmother's house could use a good chuckle) and who, therefore, aren't living the kind of lives they could be if they would only laugh more.
I don't care what you laugh at--fat people trying to dodge traffic on a busy highway so they can make it to the all-you-can-eat-buffet before they run out of chicken wings (you know, the really good ones), "adult" comedies, frat-boy humor, people leaving for work and ending up ice-skating to their car on their rear ends, World's Dumbest, those shows that show people dying in horribly ironic ways, the idiots being picked off one-by-one in horror movies because they refuse to smarten up--anything that gets the chuckles going. It can even be mixed in with a serious subject, such as politics: I like to laugh whenever a liberal loser (well, they're all losers, in their own special ways) says something about us in the GOP wanting to kill crippled cookie-making grandmas and punch kids in wheelchairs until they roll down the steps or whatever. Stupidity makes me giggle.
And remember that no matter what you laugh at or how loud you laugh, you'll be increasing your life expectancy by about eighteen-and-a-million percent.
And yes, I just made that up, too.
