Monthly Archives: April 2009

It’s Not Wilbur’s Fault

Posted on by patrickhmorris
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Now, class, before I read to you, I’d like to know if anyone can tell me what the word on the board means.

How about you, Wilbur?

“Umm…”picture1

Just try reading it out loud first.

“Ah-Ahg-Ahahggrestey.”

Everyone stop laughing at Wilbur this instant! It’s not his fault he can’t read. Wilbur, the word is ‘Ag-gres-sive.’ It’s not an easy word and all of you who are laughing like hyenas should be ashamed of yourselves. Making fun of someone for being stupid is not nice. It’s not nice at all. Why don’t you insensitive brats just make fun of Wilbur for having a stupid name while you’re at it? Bet he wouldn’t have his feelings hurt if you pointed out that his name makes him either sound like a hillbilly or a pig. Oh look class, Wilbur ACTUALLY looks like a pig. Isn’t that a wonderful coincidence that just begs you to make fun of him? How could a single moment go by without you guys pulling up your noses, oinking and saying, “My name is Wilbur! I’m a fat, smelly pig who lives in a home people in trailer parks make fun of!”?

Oh, did I say something funny? I personally don’t think that making fun of a student is a laughing matter. It’s not his fault he comes from a dysfunctional home. I’m sure his mother likes going out and collecting venereal diseases instead of caring for her child. Wilbur has never been given a fair chance and not one person has ever believed in him. Cut him some slack.

“And he’s fat!”

You children are vultures! Crystal, I want you to apologize to Wilbur after class. There is nothing wrong with Wilbur’s body type. In a 3rd world country, his fatness would be a sign of wealth. People would think he was the son of the prince because he had access to enough food to make him so big. Is it his fault that he doesn’t live in a 3rd world country and that here, in the US, he’s just a fat, poor kid with ganky teeth who has no chance of experiencing love?

It’s not nice to make fun of people, children. How would you like it if people made fun of you? I mean what about you Kenneth? You have a laugh that sounds like a dial up modem. ‘Hee-Hee-Hee-HAAAAA…HAAAAA!!’ And Susan, you have a bigger nose than Snuffleupagus. Class, let’s all point and laugh at Carlton cause his dad’s a drunk. HA HA HA!! He might as well learn his ABC’s as AA-B-C, right class?

It’s not fun is it?

Wilbur, I’m sorry you have such heartless classmates. I don’t think you’re stupid. Aggressive is a challenging word to read. The rest of the class probably thinks they’re super smart, but I bet most of them couldn’t read this word either. For instance, I know for a fact Christian couldn’t. I’d skip him ahead a full grade if he could keep from putting something in his mouth for one day. And today is out because I saw him putting whatever he brought in off his shoe from recess in his mouth.

Does anyone want to guess at what the word aggressive means? Yes, Ron.

“My Dad is a lawyer.”

Well, Ron, I’d like to make a new rule. You are not allowed to raise your hand unless I ask, “who smells like an open sewer.” Ok?

Oh stop crying!

Happy Hour: A Guide

Posted on by patrickhmorris
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There’s nothing in North Dakota. I was 13 years old when I first experienced the stale bread quality of the state North Dakotaoins refer to as, “the exciting Dakota.” Being 13, I couldn’t look at a strobe light without complaining about needing more stimulation. North Dakota felt like a punishment of the most severe kind. We were just driving through, but I prayed for a tornado or something to make the trip more exciting. Anything.

As we started getting close to our stopping point of the day, my mother pointed out that if we picked up the pace a bit, we might be able to make the Happy Hour at the hotel. Before I could say, “What’s Happy Hour,” I was flung back against my seat by the sudden acceleration of the car.

Whatever Happy Hour was, my father was eager to get there. So eager that he didn’t notice the State Trooper perched on the service road. We were pulled over and when the police officer asked, “What’s the big rush,” my father said, “We’re trying to make a happy hour. We’ve been driving all day.”

The cop looked puzzled, but after glancing at our Vermont license plates said, “Well, I appreciate you folks not drinking till the end of the trip. Be safe,” and let us go.

I couldn’t wait for Happy Hour. Whatever it was, it made my father and the police disregard the law. Imagine my surprise when I found out Happy Hour wasn’t as much happy as it was $1 of alcoholic drinks at a sleazy hotel bar.

My parents seemed completely satisfied as they sipped their drinks and clinked their glasses together. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now – it’s hard to find a good Happy Hour.

Happy Hour seems like a pretty simple concept, right? Make people happy by feeding them discounted booze when they’re done with their boring and borderline abusive jobs. That’s it. Throw those things together and you’ve got a Happy Hour, right? Wrong like King Kong.

There are more variations of Happy Hour then there are shitty flavors at Baskin Robbins. Some discount beer, some wine, some are ½ priced drinks, some are 2 for one, some are $1 off and almost none are only 1 hour long. Unfortunately, for the most part, each is also a let down.

Granted, I’m spoiled and have a belief that bars should be giving me 50 oz mugs of my favorite beers for a $1 just because. No Happy Hour could truly be perfect for me (unless someone knows about said 50 oz beer for a buck). However, even though I know my wants can’t match an economically viable business plan, I have some do’s and don’ts for bars looking to design or redesign their Happy Hour.

—- Do —-

The “REALLY?!” Factor
If someone tells me about a Happy Hour deal and I don’t say, “Really?!” then it’s not good enough and they need to sweeten the deal.

Food
Food is a plus, not a reason to go to a bar. Free pizza with ever beer? Awesome, but if I order a Bud bottle and you start the price with a “Sss” and end with a “ixxx” I hate you.

Push the Hours
I completely understand every bar’s dream is to lure people in with a seductive Happy Hour and then keep the fish wet by drenching them with $11 well rum and cokes. If I had a bar, I’d probably do the same thing (along with charging people $20 if they use the bathroom more than twice). However, if I’m rushing to drink a beer so that I can order another one before the hour turns, I’m going to get drunk and call my girlfriend a retard when she asks if I’m drunk. Thanks, bar.

Separate the noise – the after work crowd is different than the late night crowd. Ideally I’d like a little natural light coming through the windows and a quiet atmosphere where I don’t have to scream in order for people to hear my awesome joke about Obama’s penis being shaped like an anvil. Keep it down, ya’ll.

Keep the Meat if you Rotate
Bars often think they can please everyone by making each day of the week a different drink special. Monday Martini’s, Tuesday 1/2 price domestics, etc. Sounds like a good plan, but trying to make everyone happy is a great way to make everyone hate you (just ask my graduating high school class). Keep what you’re best at as the staple and use your, “maybe Fendi bag wearing girls will become regulars at this Irish pub because we have Martini’s for under $4,” promotions as extra.

—- Don’ts —-

Less than a Buck Discount
Really? You’re going to give me quarters back? Don’t you know that quarters went out of style with the change machine at Laundromats? If there isn’t a pool table or Pacman, I don’t know why they’d have change at all.

Last Call, 7:00 p.m.
Originally, Happy Hour was supposed to be 5-6 p.m. While I should be happy that most places extended their deals an extra hour, how the hell do you think I’m going to get out of work, get to your bar and enjoy myself by 7:00? If I didn’t know that every bar owner in the world is nodding and saying, “exactly” I’d be more annoyed. If you’re a bar in Brooklyn with a 7 p.m. Happy Hour cut off, then you’ve never taken the F train.

All You Can Drink
Dear Mr. Glutton. Thank you for your consideration in implementing a scheme that encourages me to drink as heavily and as quickly as possible. I love your spirit. However, I’ve noticed that other people who are favorable to an all you can drink plan often act like prisoners trying to rape Jessica Rabbit. I don’t know how many times I’ve been standing wedged between some dick who thinks snapping and yelling, “YO!” to the bartender is appropriate and a girl who thinks that if she keeps pushing into me that I’ll spontaneously become some sort of liquid she can pass through, but it’s a miserable experience.
Sincerely, Tub of Bud.

I understand everyone who starts a Happy Hour, thinks they’re going to be the first to do it, “right.” Well, I’ll throw my hat into the ring and say that when I start my bar (tentatively called, “Fuck you Dad. I am a somebody!”) I will implement these revolutionary, outside the box, ideas.

—- Outside Da Box Ideas —-

Charge for Seatsphoto-13
You pay $5 to get a seat, but after that, all your drinks are ½ price. This will hopefully eliminate dicks with laptops (see picture) taking up a whole table while your group stands in a circle holding their coats.

Highest Bar Tab
Whoever has the highest running bar tab in the bar gets to control the remote for the TV and play whatever they want on the Juke Box. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be a little more friendly with your tech guy if you knew he might be able to contribute to you playing Lola ten times in a row at a bar?

Happy Hour Bathrooms
These bathrooms would be only used when drinks are discounted and they would be, in a word, upsetting. The only reason I think this is a great plan is that I like knowing why I’m getting a good deal. “Oh, I get it…they sold me this beer for $2 because they don’t hire people to clean their bathrooms. I’m ok with that.” Then when Happy Hour was over, you wouldn’t feel like a sucker for spending $5 for a beer that was $3 five minutes ago if it meant you didn’t have to tip toe into the can.

All You Can Commit To
Thursday’s would be all you can drink night, but once you come in, you’re not allowed to drink until you really can’t drink anymore. I don’t care if I have to stay up with you till 4:00 a.m. pouring handles of vodka into your throat, you’re leaving at the brink.

Until people start REALLY listening to me, Happy Hours will continue to be a moderately satisfying respite from the rest of the normal priced world. We should be thankful for it. Chances are it’s not worth risking your family’s life for by pushing your mini-van’s engine to the limit, but it will always be an oasis in either the middle of nowhere or the center of everything.

TWITTER for Twits

Posted on by patrickhmorris
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Twitter has gone too far. It’s officially the first advance in technology that has left me scratching my head and mumbling things like, “I just don’t understand,” and “are they making fun of me?”

IM – got it, email isn’t immediate enough.
Facebook – sure, we all like sharing pictures with people we vaguely remember from middle school. However, nothing about Twitter made sense to me. Could it really be people posting any and all random thoughts to their “followers”? Could it really be that simple? I decided to do some research (on the internet – cause I’m not totally clueless) and decided to compile some information to help those who aren’t Twits (someone who uses Twitter).

I’ve also decided to send Tweets (the messages sent on Twitter) while I write this so everyone can get the big picture.

What is it?

- Twitter is a way to look at people’s lives 160 characters at a time. You can post up-to-the-second updates on your life so those that follow you never have to wonder what you’re up to.

Patrick doesn’t know if it’s actually 160 characters you’re allowed to type, but he’s too lazy to do research on an article he’s posting on a blog his mother won’t even read.

Why would I join this thing?

- Don’t you want to know what others are up to at every moment of their life? Imagine how difficult it would be if you didn’t know that Paul was thinking about getting new chairs for his kitchen table.

Patrick has to use the restroom and doesn’t know what’s gonna happen.

How is this different then email or IM?

- Email and IM are personal and can only be seen by the person you are sending it to. Twitter, however, can be seen by everyone and it’s a one way conversation. None of this he said, she said bull shit. Now you can tell people what’s on your mind without ever having to deal with the annoyance of hearing what’s on their mind.

Patrick just used a handful of cotton balls for toilet paper. He wishes he had counted how many were in his hand before cause he doesn’t think he got em all! LOL!!

Can you post pictures?

- Nope. Pictures aren’t cool anymore. Seriously, how stupid are you? They are oooohhhh-vvvaaahh facebook style. If Facebook were a camera, then Twitter is a camera that doesn’t take pictures and makes toast.

Patrick wants to know what his elbow thinks about this article. Well, what do you think, elbow? Rdvdrvrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrvgtvgggggggggggvrrrrdfcefrcvgtfrdcvgbtgtfrdecfvg.

Is the point to follow people or to be followed?

- Following other people and having access to the thoughts that no one has deemed important to be shared until now may appear to be the point, but really, it’s to be followed. Twitter is basically like your ego pulling off its pants and yelling, “Who wants a little o’ dis!!”

Patrick wants to open a mashed potato bar where you throw in sprinkles, hot fudge and gummies. It would be like Coldstone, but with mashed taters and a third of the singing/customers.

How often should I tweet?

- Well, let’s put it this way – if you were to talk to a friend of yours and found out they overcooked their broccoli the other day and they DIDN’T share that on Twitter, wouldn’t you feel cheated? I would.

Patrick just started crying cause he realized he’s making fun of people for feeling self-important through an article for his blog. He also opened a letter he wrote to himself 5 years ago called, “Where Will I Be in 5 Years,” and it said, “Tweeting.”

Am I pathetic if I love Twitter?

- Not anymore than the guy who sets up his stuffed animals and tells them how his day went.

Patrick once had a stuffed panda called Panda Pole and a boxer named Bruce. If he had a stuffed animal now it would be a Koala bear named, “Glory Hole.”

What does Twitter stand for?

- Time Wasting Introverted Tracking Technology for Emotional Retards.

Patrick has a retarded uncle and feels comfortable saying the words retard and Mongoloid.

I like staying ahead of the game. What’s next?

- Well, I have two theories on this one. The first is a site which I’ve dreamed up called www.watchmenow.com. Basically we all get wireless webcams to wear as necklaces and you tap into your friend’s every day life whenever you want. You’d be able to see them working, watch them walk to the subway, see who they’re hanging out with…it would be a blast! The other idea is that a terrible SciFi movie comes out with the premise of a world that has advanced to the point where we are immediately imprinted with a chip that will publish all solidified thoughts onto the Internet at birth (in the movie, it will be called “The Thought Screen”). The main character (Toby McGuire or one of Obama’s daughters) will have to figure out a way to trick the “mind cops” and rid themselves of this chip so they can live a life where their internal thoughts aren’t published to the world.

Patrick googled “ways to hide a dead body” just to see what would come up. He took notes as a goof and is going to the hardware store to buy lime just to be ironic.

I hope this was able to introduce many of the non-believers to the world of Twitter and that you’re a little more open to the complete transparency and inflated sense of importance that is rolling out of control. Catch you on the Tweet Side!!

Patrick just high fived himself.