I’d Rather Train My Cat To Win The Nobel Prize In Kickboxing [Friday Thoughts With TeeCoZee]
Good afternoon. Aren’t you glad I didn’t say evening? Because it’s probably evening, now. It’s Friday, November 28, Two Thousand and Fourteen. The weather in Brooklyn is 35˚ & deceivingly sunny and somewhere, somebody is sitting in their living room, wondering why in the fuck he/she bought a Roomba even though there’s already an army of Roombas in the house that barely do anything at all. How can your apartment get dirty when all you buy is cleaning robots?!? Can we make them pay rent?!? That’s not all, I still have a few more things on my mind…
– The BFD airwaves have been quiet this month. I’m not willing to apologize to any of you for my lack of content output. But I am, however, more than willing to feel sorry for myself over the matter.
– I adopted a cat a couple of weeks ago. By adopt, I mean that the cat is still a hobo. There’s no way I’d take that filthy thing inside, no matter how much I want to. But somebody from downstairs made a cozy little winter bed for him and I started buying food. The cat instantly became attached to me and would follow me to the end of the block and back. When I left the house earlier, the cat was sunbathing and oddly paid no mind to my presence. Upon my return, the cat was still motionless in the sun. I turned around to find another cat, nearly identical, following me from behind. The sunbathing cat was an imposter! It was at that moment, I realized the dirty business of the Decatur St cat underworld. And lord, did that imposter cat give my cat the beating of a lifetime. As any dedicated guardian would do, I got pissed and started yelling. Really, really loud. Cats don’t listen when you yell at them, they just resume what they’re doing and the whole neighborhood looks at you like you’re a psychopath, which you are. A half hour later, my cat came back to the doorstep, beaten, bloody, defeated and starving. I decided it would be proper to give him 2 meals today. He needs his strength. Because starting tomorrow, I’m going to train that cat to be a lean, mean killing machine. And this Sunday, live on Pay-Per-View, my cat will take on the Kickboxing Welterweight Champion, Imposter Fuckface, in a no holds barred match for the title! You messed with my stoop and my cat, now you mess with PAIN!!!
– I got a haircut last week, so I could look fucking awesome [which I do]. People started asking me if my life has changed at all. As if getting a $40 haircut suddenly makes you become a different person. My room still reeks of moldy farts, my bills are still piling and I still don’t know how to talk to girls. I just LOOK like all of those things are untrue!
– I don’t know what I hate more: The fact that everybody leaves town for Thanksgiving or the fact that everybody stays out of town for the days after Thanksgiving.
– I haven’t been able to put on any music today, as some guy outside is blasting some really lame rap/r&b into my room. In other words, he’s blasting some really good rap/r&b into my room. Anybody that pairs Ginuwine with DMX is much better than me at music selecting.
– It’s something that comes up every so often and usually around this time of the year:
“Where in the hell is there a Wal-Mart around here?”
[Somebody looking it up] “Wait, there’s one in Long Island!”
“Didn’t somebody die there?”
“Trampled on Black Friday”
“Wait, we’re going to Long Island”?”
“Technically we’re on Long Island”
“I will turn this damn car around if you say Long Island one more goddamned time!”
– Playing Caeser’s Palace for Sega Genesis has really curbed my gambling urges. But I’m trying to rush the rest of this article so I can get to the Aqueduct in time for the last race. Who wants to play poker tonight?!? WILL SOMEBODY PLAY POKER WITH ME?!?!?
– The guy outside is playing his 3rd Naughty By Nature song. This is the best day ever!
– This week’s edition of Ad Nauseous is brought to you by Dr Martens!
This ad has been bothering me for a long time, now. It’s stupidity is engaging in the worst way. A girl is at a party. She is her own person and you can obviously tell because of her stylistic choices. Cut-off t-shirt, tattoos, dyed short hair [or is it short?] and her motherfucking Doc Martens.Nobody in the world is going to look like her! And if she does, well, she can mix it up by putting sheer tights. Now that’s a look that NOBODY can replicate! The best part is that nobody at the party can tell if she’s gay, straight, married or single, and fuck you if you ever dare to ask her! She wears Doc Martens!
But what really bothers me is the hashtag advertised on the bottom, #standforsomething. She is clearly sitting down in the picture! What the hell is she standing for? Her desire to sit down? NOT ON MY WATCH! I checked Twitter for what this hashtag actually means to people and as you can see, it’s nothing but protesters that have nothing to do with Dr Martens and people advertising some Dr Martens concert series, where bands that you pretend to have heard of plays inside of Dr Martens stores or your basement or whatever, fuck you.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about manufactured image. If there was a market for slightly overweight hipster twentysomethings that only wear vintage plaid Arrow shirts, then I would be their posterboy. The only problem is that my image isn’t marketable to anybody except the image itself.
This ad made me reveal 5 things to the world:
1) I am a hipster
2) I only wear vintage Arrow plaid shirts that I buy off of eBay for a reasonable price
3) I am overweight
4) I am willing to sell myself out if the opportunity arose
5) I was once turned down by a girl that wore Dr Martens every day and now find boot-wearers repulsive and arrogant
I don’t think I like making fun of ads anymore…
– Oh man, now he’s playing “Too Close” by Next. Such a goddamned groove!
I love it when R&B videos start in the middle of one of the group’s B-sides for no reason.
– I am on a never-ending search to find the stupidest random things. I need thumbtacks. I really need thumbtacks. I cannot find thumbtacks anywhere in the neighborhood. Not at the grocery store, the bodega or even the 99 cent stores that supposedly have “everything”. I have to leave my neighborhood to buy thumbtacks. I don’t understand New York anymore.
Try this trick over the weekend: Convince a person to sleep with you.
Have a lucky weekend everybody!