Nathan the Mover, Part 2

Another moving client wrote to me about his mom, Harriet, and all the details of her job, including these pertinent sections:

“Just writing to say I hope you received my phone messages today earlier with the various phone numbers and points of contact; please let me know if you have any questions. My mom is looking forward to the move and says she just hopes you have a big enough truck!? (Joking.)”

“…that stationary exercise bicycle, or my mom’s little fold-up bicycle, no, we have not put those in big boxes, figuring you have a method of dealing with those sorts of things… things like a wheelbarrow, or a few shovels and garden implements, no, we have not boxed those, figuring you have a method… things like kitchen implements, canned goods, towels, miscellaneous small tools, file folders, office supplies, all that stuff, yes, it’s been boxed…”

Dave,

I kind of read over your e-mail but started glazing over around the start of your itemized  laundry list (file folders, dishes, small tools, canned goods, etc.) Don’t worry about the last thing, by the way, as we usually eat any food items during the move… that’s one way we can offer such low prices, you see – by not having to stop at gas stations for food (although I have to admit it doesn’t matter if you’re just moving across town – we will still eat the peaches).  But basically, I get it – you have a bunch of shit. We’ll get it there. It’s what we do.

I was thinking more about your last name… I know your mom’s name is Henrietta or something, but are you related to Susan Boyle? She is this lady on YouTube who sings about dreaming and makes Simon Cowell smile. I wrote this for Wikipedia: “Global interest in Boyle was triggered by the contrast between her powerful voice and her plain appearance on stage. The juxtaposition of the audience’s first impression of her with the standing ovation she received after her performance led to an international media and Internet response…  CONSIDER ME A BIG PART OF THAT RESPONSE!!!” You probably know all that though, especially if you are related. I would like an autograph if you can make that happen.

Nathan

PS Maybe once your Mom sees how big my truck is she will not even think of joking about it.

Ultimate Guide to Internet Dating

I tried Match.com and internet dating one year- that’s six months of paid time plus the six free months I got for being a total failure for the first half. I eventually found the secret to success, even though I suffered through many misfortunes, including this picture from a potential suitor:

Essentially, all you have to do is prepare correctly – do this one thing: make sure anyone you’re interested in has been at the internet thing for at least one month; in other words, long enough to have experienced plenty of winks, e-Harmony postings, and Match.com messages to have had their faith in the opposite sex completely destroyed. If they’ve actually been on some real life dates, even better. Then, all you have to do, is act normal. These are some actual stories that were shared with me by women on Match…

1.    “After not responding to his first inquiry, some guy e-mailed me a second time, promising that if I would talk to him he would send me a piece of fan-fiction he’d written about Garfield accidentally eating a ‘suicide lasagna’ that was meant for one of Jon’s terminally ill friends.” [ed. note - I’ve already searched the internet for this with no luck]

2.    “After appetizers at Applebees, he told me he was a photographer.  This line of conversation quickly lead to where I feared it would – he wanted me to come home with him that night for a fully nude session. I will give him credit for not bothering to lie when I jokingly asked him if they would be tasteful.”

3.    “Because I had listed ‘dogs’ on my profile under my ‘Likes’, he thought taking me to a dog park on our first date would be a good idea. It was quite awkward being there without a dog to begin with, but then he started wrestling with a border collie. And I do mean wrestling – he was covered in mud by the end. He also told me if he ever got a dog he would name it ‘Sexy Bitch’ and all the reasons why that would be funny.”

4.    This guy, who was 20 years older than me, asked me to come to his cabin for the weekend with him and his kid. He could tell I was reticent, to say the least, so he reassured me there was no reason to worry, ‘we would not be humping in front of his boy’”.

5.    “Well, one guy seemed totally normal for date number one, so I asked him over for a group dinner with friends.  The short version of the story is that he ended up passed out drunk in my bed after hitting on all the males in attendance and when that failed,  trying to stick his finger up my bum.”

As you can see, not only do these stories prove that you will have relative success on real-world meetings if you just manage to avoid humping up on strange dogs, but they are quite amusing in and of themselves. So much so, I think an ingenious proposal for a website would be called www.matchhell.com (I already registered it, so don’t bother trying) featuring horrific accounts of dates. It would be like a combination of Facebook, Amazon, and Twitter 3.0 for the lonely generation!  I doubt if that makes any sense, but I’m hoping buzzwords like ‘Twitter 3.0’ will keep the venture capitalists reading my e-mails a little longer than they normally would…  one response is all it takes.  Then, once I make my money, I can finally join www.dateamillionaire.com, where the rewards for not humping up on a strange dog will be greater than I ever imagined.

My Friendly ‘Chops

Last week I went to a beer festival, one that pretends to be about costumes and bluegrass instead of getting drunk. I like to play along though and decided to bring the facial hair in full force. But of what design? A quick trip to www.beards.org and I decide to go with the “friendly muttonchops”. I assume its name was derived by the affable union of cheek hair the mustache provides. Here it is:

I have no explanation for the purple doo-rag other than I had a purple shirt and it seemed to match pretty well. While my full intention was to shave this thing after the beer festival , it became immediately clear some things are just too amazing to die.  Most reactions could be summarized by a girl at my school who was sprinting down a hallway. Before I could tell her to stop the running she haulted and stared at me for ten straight seconds with a look of bewilderment and confusion. She eventually managed to say, “Awesome beard!” before she scampered away. I feel like this scenario takes place in the head of everyone who sees me, including mine. It is very hard to walk by a mirror without pausing for an extended period of time.

Nathan The Former Camp Counselor

I recently got an e-mail for another Nathan from some people that appear to be from a Christian camp in the Ozarks. Attached is their included picture. I am still waiting for a response.

Dear Britt & Gayle,

Thank you for thinking of me. It seems so long ago that I spent those blissful days in His mountains along with the MK Care Shepherding team! You asked for updates on specific aspects of my life so here goes:

1. Work – I have a job at a surf shop in La Jolla.  I have found it extremely surprising that full time Bible School did not really teach me any practical skills. Fishing and spreading His word – not in high demand out here. I feel like Lord kind of let me down on this one.
2. School – As you may remember my plan was to attend Notre Dame, but I wanted to spend some time in California first.  This dude who works at La Surfer King with me convinced me that school only teaches you to be submissive to authority… he also said this was a bad thing.  More importantly, I spent my entire savings I had budgeted for one year in two weeks.  So I don’t have money for school anymore.
3. Culture Shock – As you can imagine, California is much different than Missouri. All the things you warned us about exist and are plentiful: drugs, alcohol, homosexual sex, heterosexual sex, and the Devil’s music, just to name a few. Unfortunately, I have now experienced all of these first hand…  sometimes by force.
4. Family – They do not speak to me anymore.

I know it seems I am quite far away from my goals of being a minister and marrying a woman… sometimes I wonder if I have lost my way… or maybe I have finally found it?  I think about shit like that sometimes when I am up for 72 hours straight. I appreciate the offer of your home phone number and would like to call you about questions like these. I have so many questions… like, how do I know this isn’t all someone else’s dream?! Some dude asked me that at a bonfire and it blew my mind. Be warned, I do most of my thinking late at night.

Also, I would love to join you for Thanksgiving per your invitation. Is it alright if I bring some friends? The guy I work with I told you about has a bus that can hold about 36 people.

This last part is embarrassing, but could you tell me which one of you is Britt and which one is Gayle? I never really figured that out, or if I did, I’ve completely forgotten it.

Thanks,

Nathan

The Best Man Speaks

These are the several versions of the speech I wrote as the best man for my friend Robert’s wedding. Six hasty glasses of wine prevents me from recalling what I actually said, only the evil eye his mom was giving me the entire time:

Robert  – married – I never thought I’d see the day.  Then again, I never thought I’d see him lose his virginity. And let’s just say, not only did I actually see him lose his virginity, I had a hand in it. And when I say, “I had a hand in it,” let’s just say I really mean it.… OK, if you didn’t like that joke people you’re really not going to like the rest, so… Congratulations to Robert and Kristen!

OR

First, I’d like to say thanks to Robert for making me the best man. Iroooonic, since I’m probably the worst man here tonight. Seriously, I’m depressed, bitter, and if I had the chance to meet most of you for more than 5 minutes, I’d probably hate you… OK, if you miserable fucks didn’t like that quote, joke, unquote, you’re really not going to like the rest, so… Congratulations to Robert and Kristen!

OR

When I think about Robert, I think about this time in high school we were going out one Friday night (probably to see a movie) and he joked to his mom that we were going “cruising for chicks”. According to mom, who for some reason was telling the story at the dinner table the next night, I responded with a facial expression that said, “What the hell?! Chicks?!” The inference, of course, was that I might be gay and, who knows, I might have been trying to swing Robert in that direction. Of course, as we can see tonight, looking at Robert and his beautiful bride, he is definitely not gay. And all the sex we had in college can be safely labeled as experimental… Zing! OK, if you didn’t like that joke people you’re really not going to like the rest, so… Congratulations to Robert and Kristen!

OR

When I moved to Arizona in 7^th grade I actually stole Robert’s best friend and we were enemies. In high school that guy started wearing eyeliner, so somehow Robert and I became friends. We played video games on Friday nights, had pathetic jobs, no girlfriends… then Robert got engaged last year and changed everything. Congratulations to Robert and Kristen!

OR

As long as I have known Robert, he has only had 3 loves: basketball, video games and sweaty men rubbing against each other.. I’m talking about professional wrestling, of course! I guess Kristin is now on the list, but I’m not sure where she falls. He is marrying her, and even though one night in college when we were drinking he went on for a while how he wished he could “marry video games” – I don’t even how that would work… I think this is a bit more serious, anyway. Besides, this is kind of the same thing… I know Kristin really “pushes his buttons”… get it?! Just like a video game controller or something! Ba-Bing!

OR

As long as I have known Robert, he has only had 3 loves: basketball, video games and sweaty men rubbing against each other.. I’m talking about professional wrestling, of course.  I guess Kristin is now on the list, but I’m not sure where she falls. He is marrying her, I remember the first night in college he ever drank he went on for a while how he wished he could “marry video games”, then this girl named Star took him into his bed and started yanking on his balls. The next morning he was like, “I don’t care who I marry, as long as she doesn’t yank on my balls – that fuckin’ hurt.” So… I guess we all know a little something about Kristin, and why it’s the stuff she doesn’t do, that makes her so special! [note to self: if that goes over badly, just stand up and say "Holy shit, dude, this isn't the latest draft! I cut all that inappropriate stuff out... the fact he watches professional wrestling is embarrassing... that ball-yanking material is still fuckin' gold though! [high five person sitting next me]“]

The Library Talks

These are some speeches I wrote for a friend who was speaking at an opening for a new library. They are meant to explain why we still need libraries in an age when we don’t need libraries.

The internet has everything  – that sounds great until you’ve been scarred for life because one your “friends” sent you a link for a quiche recipe that turned out to be a picture of something called a “lemon party”… I can tell by this person dry heaving in the front row someone knows what I’m talking about. Case closed. Thank you.

OR

The internet has everything… except for free books! Okay, okay, it has www.freebooks.com, but you have to sign up for credit cards or trial memberships to travel websites just to get one free book. And what about librarians? Most of the so-called “librarians” on the internet are just girls in various states of undress… but always wearing glasses! I’m guessing they don’t know much at all about the Dewey Decimal system… unless we’re talking about porn star Dewey Hardstone, and by “decimal” we’re meaning “lovemaking”, and by system we’re meaning “technique”… but we’re getting off track here! Let’s hear it for free books!

OR

The internet will never succeed because it relies on people’s own self-moderation – most people, if given the chance, would spend all day “surfing the world wide web” until they passed out with swollen eyes and involuntary twitches in their hand. On the other hand, who wants to spend all day in the library?! Not me, libraries suck! I mean… let’s hear it for libraries!

OR

If the internet were a library, it would probably be a 50-story building at least the size 4 football fields. That sounds great (if you like libraries) but consider this – people you haven’t seen since high school would be around every corner waiting to be your new friend, half of those friends would be spending “special time with their penis” while flipping through magazines filled with pictures of Jessica Alba, and you would probably get distracted for hours by cat pictures when you just wanted to know the conversion formula for pounds to kilograms … hell, you might even wander into a lemon party! Let’s hear it for (small) libraries!

The Violation of Section G-10

I was fined $500 for having glass at a pool party at my condominium. This is my response:

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is regarding the bullshit fine given to Unit #365 for violation of Section G-10. There are three main points in my dispute of this assessment. I have followed all rules to the best of my ability in this instance and in previous instances where I have reserved the pool with no issues, including a complete lack of fecal incidents, though not necessarily a lack of pool sex (an act not at all prohibited in your monthly newsletter “The Center Court Community Digest” that apparently now doubles as the “official rules and regulations”).

1. The douche bag who brought (and broke) the bowl was not an invited guest of mine. Because of a prior pool reservation where other people came to swim, I wanted to know what I was liable for.  I verbally verified when reserving the pool that it was OK for me to let other people use the pool and I would not be responsible for their behavior. As such, I had no interest preventing other people I did not know from swimming or enjoying themselves.  I only know the person who brought the bowl as “Brent”.  I wish I could be of more help to who this inebriated & coked-up man-whore was, but he was no friend of mine.  He was with two other strangers, one with a large tattoo on his chest which I think  was a panther or maybe Garfield the cat (I’ve heard the HOA manager is a former police officer, so perhaps these details can aid in any investigation) .  Eventually, “Brent” seemed to understand that no one was going to eat his leftover slop, and tried to take it back his car or apartment or wherever the fuck he came from. Unfortunately, this clown began doing some retarded dance in an evident effort to entertain us, at which point he dropped it.  From what I understand, this entire situation was explained by one of my friends to the security guard (who promised to “take care of us”…  thanks a lot you miserable old battle-axe). They were all quite aware of the rules because of my insistence on no glass or pool shitting, which I’m afraid makes me come across as a real tight-ass.  Yet, I have done this because I am well aware of the rules.

2. I would like to reiterate I was told that I would only be responsible for my guests, but if this was complete ass-talk from the old man in the office, I would also like to make another point. Perhaps you will regard this as a technicality, but the bowl broken was not glass. It was clearly a ceramic bowl.  I fully understand the spirit of the rule, but as stated in your official rules, this is not a violation as ceramic is not “glass of any type”. Perhaps the regulations should be rewritten to include “breakable items” so it makes it easier for you to be complete assholes in the future.

3. Another thing – the sign posted at the pool clearly states that a fine for glass is $100. I’ve included a picture of it for your reference. I also have 3 witnesses in case you try and write over it with a Sharpie the way you did to the signs at the south pool. As an interesting side note, there was an older lady swimming when I took this picture. After explaining to her what I was doing, she told me a story in a thick Hungarian accent of how she had been bringing her twelve grandkids to the pool for ten years with no problems until the current HOA manager changed the rules limiting guests for no reason other than as an exhibition of his  delusional power trip. I thought she might just be a senile immigrant, but once she used the phrase “sad, washed-up cop with no meaning in his life”, I knew she was onto something.

I hope this resolves the matter. I would also like to note that I expect my deposit check for clean-up to be returned.  The area was as clean or cleaner when we left it than we got there. Despite Brent’s culpability, he did not show much interest in cleaning his mess. We made sure it was completely picked up since we fully understand the danger this could present in a swimming area (bloody feet, which leads to bloody water, which leads to sharks).

There are several of my guests who can verify anything I’ve written if you would like their contact information. In addition, Awesome John from Unit #344 was present for a short time. He was not a guest of mine, and I had not even met this guy before. But by liberally helping himself to our cooler of Bud Light and his use of the phrase “old twat” to describe the residents at the complex, I feel like he may be a future friend.

Thank you so much for your attention in this matter,

Nathan

Nathan the Runner

One of the other Nathans I often get e-mail for is apparently a runner at Victory Christian School because the cross country coach put me on his mailing list, and he recently asked for the members to update him with any changes in contact information…

Please remove me from this list – I have decided I hate running because God hates running. Ever hear of Jesus running anywhere? I didn’t think so. Don’t try and change my mind. If you ever see me running, it is only because my mom is making me – she is convinced that running expels demons when the opposite is probably true. Sometimes, I wish she would be stricken down with a holy bolt from the sky right before she reaches the finish line – maybe then all of you would learn!

Also, I don’t like to cast stones, but Nick Paloma and his entire family is insufferable [ed. note - I inferred this from the number of Palomas on the list].  If I have listen to them talk about their matching sneakers one more time, I might be forced to pray that one of them gets punched right in the face somehow.

And his response…

I will remove you from the list.  Sorry you don’t like running.  If I disliked it as much as you…I’d quit too!  Should our saviour ever change your mind about running give me a holler…I’ll add you back on.

Regards,
Rich

Doubt & Defiance: Taken

Those were the last 3 movies I had from Netflix – Doubt, Defiance, and Taken. I think you would have a pretty good movie by combining all 3 of the titles. Combining all 3 of the plots would be pretty good, too – a provincial nun and “progressive” priest butt heads and team up to rescue a kidnapped altar boy working as a sex slave in a Nazi forest. Given the awesome nature of such a movie, it would probably fail miserably at the box office. But the title should definitely be used for something – it has words that imply conflict, duality, and subtle ennui.  I know the public loves complex titles because Transformers 2 made 200 billion dollars on its opening weekend. Its subtitle is Revenge of the Fallen – it works on many levels because not only did the Decepticon robots “fall” in the first one, but there is apparently a transformer actually named “The Fallen”. That is fuckin’ brilliant, man.

Sleeping With The Jersey Wives

I recently had to get a sleep test (SPOILER ALERT – it turns out I have severe sleep apnea).  I was worried the entire time leading up to it about my ability to even doze, much less enter the kind of deep slumber I assumed they would need to detect abnormalities in the REM cycle, also known as the mystical… dream sleep. I had no problems dreaming, but they would be better classified as “hallucinations”. I discovered that I tend to go a little crazy strapped in one position for hours on end, especially with the added pressure of having to eventually fall asleep when one is not sleepy at all.

The first step was wiring me up to several electrodes, the ones on my head having to be applied with a thick glue substance. At some point in the night, a drop began to inch down and across my face like a slow, confused worm.  I was not physically restricted enough that I could not wipe it away with my forehand, but I had become so convinced I was undergoing some sort of torture that I would “lose” if I brushed it off.

Much of that abused mentality was due to the fact I watched the season finale of  reality show “The Housewives of New Jersey” before I turned off the light. It was not readily apparent who these women were, if they were really housewives or really lived in New Jersey – only that one of them saw fit to let her children sit at the table while she “joked” about her husband raping her when she was drugged up after her breast implant operation, but she told the children to leave when a discussion about the destructive power of gossip came up.  I’m not phased by too much on television, but presumably because of the circumstances, I couldn’t stop thinking about these ladies – I began to focus and hate, then focus my hate, then hate my focus – my thoughts began to spin wildly out of control to other subjects as well.  Soon, my legs were shaking with frustration and anger (SPOLER ALERT – i was also diagnosed with “concurrent movement periodic limb disorder”). I have my doubts to the validity of this finding – my kicking was largely voluntary.

The electrodes on my legs actually got pulled off a few times. This led to Brian, the technician, sneaking into the room to reattach them. A large black man sporadically sneaking into the room and pulling down my covers was another big reason I had trouble falling asleep. No, I am not racist, and I was not having flashbacks to prison (I have never been incarcerated)…  It was more about flashbacks to my childhood.

By 4am it was looking like I was not going to fall asleep at all. As the air conditioning came on causing the ceiling fan to start squeaking again (a curious feature for a room designed to facilitate sleep, for sure), I seriously considered ripping off all the wires and running out. This was right after I seriously considered masturbating to achieve some sort of drowsiness, even though I was being monitored by a camera and microphones.  At that point Brian came in again to “adjust” something – foiled again, guy, I was still awake!

I did ask him if I could have taken an Ambien – I had assumed they needed a natural sample of my sleeping and not the stoned version where I vocally marvel at the shadow puppets on the wall before drifting off. He said I could have taken one, but did not recommend doing that now since it was so late. I took one as soon as he left.

He woke me up two hours later and gave me a glass of orange juice. I almost passed out several times on the way home, but I had given them 2 hours of deep sleep and enough evidence for a diagnosis (which you already know if you’ve heard the spoilers). I’m not totally convinced of their competency, though, as there was no mention at all in the report of when I was wide awake, but began to fake-snore for about 10 minutes to see if I could fool them. I guess I did.