I’d Rather Not Have Pizzas Shoot Lasers At Me [Friday Thoughts With TeeCoZee]

Goulet. It’s Friday, October 2, Two Thousand and Fifteen. The weather in Brooklyn is 49˚ & hue hue hue hue huuuueee and somewhere, somebody is reading the ingredients of something at the grocery store with the proud comfort that he can recognize every item listed. But then again, he also works as a chemist at Kraft. Knowledge is power, you are what you eat, what you want is what you get, you deserve a break today, have it your way, sometimes you gotta break the rules, head for the border, it’s better here, we speak fish, I have some things on my mind.

– After all the money I spent on stocking up the store, I’m actually kind of pissed that Joaquin is heading out to sea. Now the only event that can sell all this stuff in time would be apocalyptic rainfall and flooding. Oh wait…

– I woke up today with a nostalgic feeling. There I was, lying in bed, absolutely nothing to do, the weather being an absolute asshole outside, I can have “one of those days”. I felt like I was back in college, where I could lay around the house all day, curl up in a blanket, drink a lethal amount of Mountain Dew and flip through the channels ad nauseam. But oh no, I was all out of Mountain Dew.

So I threw some clothes on, combed my hair, socks and shoes, my most functioning umbrella, down the stairs, into God’s toilet, to the bodega, to my sacred Mountain Dew. But no. The Mountain Dew was expired. Umbrella back up, to the next bodega, Mountain Dew expires in 2 weeks. This simply can’t do. Umbrella up, shoes soaked, 3 blocks to Super Funky Food Town Fresh, but no, that Dew will be warm, turn back around, bodega #3, get my Delicious Double Dew on chill, back home and now I can be lazy. With my Dew and some cold pizza. Cold pizza that, man, I really gotta heat up. Way too stuff. So now I have my Dew, my [kind of] cold pizza, I can finally lay on the couch and watch TV. Wait, I can’t eat on the laying couch. I switch couches. Now I’m relaxing.

Turn on the boob tube, and fuck, what am I going to watch? There’s no surfing on the internet, I actually have to pick something out. That’s not chill at all, bro duder mans. So I awkwardly sat up for a good half hour trying to pick the perfect television program, while my pizza turned room temperature and my dew ice dissipated into a watery yellow…uh…dew. Giving up, I spent 2 hours researching old fast food ad campaigns, something that College Coze would’ve guffawed at and then continued relaxing mad nice chilly stylie.

I was still not relaxing. I couldn’t relax with the way I was dressed. I needed to take the tie off and throw on a shirt and sweatpants. Then, and only then, would I be able to rainy day relax dew chill ma’am. Spent 20 minutes trying to pick out a shirt. I needed something that wasn’t brand new or 20 years old, so it wouldn’t signify that this is something I rarely ever sport. Something that’s definitely been washed 3 times but should’ve been washed 5. Found the perfect one and then spent a good hour trying to find my sweatpants to complete the ensemble.

So now I finally have my T-Shirt and Sweatpants and I can be lazy and sip sip sip on some Dew. Now I can’t find a blanket to cuddle up in. Eh. I don’t need a blanket. But it is kind of cold in here. Maybe I need a long-sleeve tee? Or a faux-turtleneck kind of thing? Whatever. Laziness is hard. I’m bored. I guess I’ll start writing about how I try too hard to relax and maybe then I’ll be able to relax. You gotta fake it until you make it, right?


– Top 5 Signs That Your Internet Shit Isn’t Working:

5) You pick up a sub-Mendoza player off the waivers just because he hit a home run last week.
4) You treat the idea of “internet shit” as something tangible.
3) Your only recent Tinder matches are with people you already tried dating.
2) Yahoo feels bad for you and wants you to draft a third fantasy football team.
1) People misconstruct a heartfelt shoutout to your mom as a suicide note.

So I guess I might as well explain the suicide note thing. I posted this Likebait to Instagram, Facebook and MySpace yesterday. Apparently, some thought that it was a desperate cry for help/suicide note/poorly constructed Likebait:
Screen Shot 2015-10-02 at 4.43.38 PM
If it was a bona fide call for help, I probably wouldn’t have a goofy grin on my face. The fact of the matter is, I had a really rough month. My job has undergone a lot of change and I’ve spent countless days flailing around in anxiety to the point that I got physical buzzes from it. Cocktail that with minor financial woes and severe self-image issues and you have what would ultimately be defined as “Not A Good Time”. But every day when I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t care for the feedback, I would look to my right and see a ridiculous picture of my Mom, as she allegedly tries to “Raise The Roof” [Or she could be doing the wave, putting her hands up, preparing for a somersault, slam dunking the shit out of an invisible basketball, performing a double high-5, the possibilities are endless]. It was my daily reminder that there are people out there rooting for me in the bleachers. It was my daily reminder to stop taking myself so seriously. It was my daily reminder to go out there, grab the world by the balls and say “I want a refund on this expired yogurt and I want it now, or else I’m gonna run an internet smear campaign on your chump ass and beat up your brother in law!”. That picture alone carried me through September and I felt that the world should know that, because it already knows everything else about me and probably some other shit that I don’t even know about me. It wasn’t a suicide note. It was a life note. Okay, this is getting too serious, I need to move on.

So I was eating prosciutto while pooping myself and suddenly nope, not this one

– I really don’t care about farming because duh. Okay, that’s better. But it’s that time of year when I feel the need to throw my life out the window and play some Harvest Moon. Grow some virtual corn, feed my virtual pigs, meet a nice girl at the bar, give her some eggs, make her my wife, assume that during the gap between night and day that I’m making virtual love to my virtual wife, chop some wood, lose my freedoms, give her more eggs when I’m out too late, wish I would’ve married the girl from the flower shop, get drunk and make a move on the girl from the flower shop, get slapped and chased out of town, feed my virtual pigs, grow some virtual corn, feel both alive and dead at the same time. I love me some Harvest Moon!

– This week’s edition of Ad Nauseous is brought to you by Dominos Pizza:

I’m not even going to try to explain the purpose of The Noid, Domino’s pansexual anti-mascot. This is what I derived: The Noid rides a laser beam that virtually destroys all virtual pizza. For some reason, he can’t shoot the virtual Domino’s pizza, as there is an invisible barrier. Also, pizza delivery is just a game and if you shoot a virtual Domino’s Pizza, the laser will bounce back and zap you. That’s actually really frightening. It seems cut and dry that the Domino’s delivery drivers come with lots of armor and protection, ensuring that your pizza will be delivered “un-zapped” and contain more olives than what’s normally expected. But the announcer throws a wrench through the whole thesis, stating that Domino’s pizza is unzappable because they do it more often than others. That’s it. That’s their defense strategy. Which has nothing to do with them being impervious to goddamned laser beams. At the end of the day, how does this even sell pizza? Who in the hell is The Noid and why should we avoid him?

– I think I might’ve reached the bottom of Tinder. I should’ve known better to think that NYC had an infinite supply of single twenty/thirtysomethings. Now I’m scraping through the stuff that I wasn’t supposed to see in the first place. Tinder was like “Oh, still can’t find a match? Fine, your funeral, heres some Bronxites with teenage kids. This girl seems normal and cool but oh no, plot twist, she lives 55 miles away! Isn’t that kooky?!? Here’s one that has a curly mustache tattooed on her face! This girl is in an open relationship with a toaster! This other one only has one blurry picture of her standing next to a Christmas Tree! Everybody loves Christmas! Can’t you feel the love?!?”. I think it’s due time that I start meeting girls in real life again. Damnit. Do me a favor, if you ever see a tatted nerd with glasses and blue hair, point me in her direction and I’ll go bust through a brick wall or something cool like that. And then awkwardly stutter my way out of a conversation. Then check and see if anybody joined Tinder.

Try this trick over the weekend: Stay dry.

Have a rainy weekend, everyone!