Monday, December 21, 2009

How Do I Sleep At Night?

Time: Sunday 3 o'clock.
Location: My parents house.

My parents return home from wherever. My mom looks at me with a huge pout.

Me: Hello.
Mom: I am very mad at you.
Me: What? Why?
Mom: You said you were coming home today to help us get a Christmas tree.
Me: I must be confused because isn't today...still...today?
Mom: It is already three. We couldn't get a tree right now.
Me: First off, that statement is false. There's nothing true about it in fact. Second I was here about an hour and a half ago, but you guys were gone. I assumed you went to go get a tree without me.
Mom: No. You weren't here so we went and got a tree yesterday. (let that one soak through for a second)
Me: So...even if I got here at sunrise it wouldn't have mattered because you already went and got a fucking tree without me? Are you serious?

Mother stares at me with a blank look across her face. What is this crazy logic?

Dad: Shut up! You are so selfish. Only thinking about yourself.
Me: Nice to see you too.
Dad: You knew my leg was hurting(how in the world he thinks this is true is beyond me. I hadn't seen him in a month and he didn't mention it EVER) and you knew that it snowed yet you did not even think to come home and shovel the driveway.
Me: Ivor told me you guys hired people to plow the driveway this winter.
Dad: Yes. But. They did not do a good job!
Me: Okay...So...In summary. I was supposed to read your mind to deduce that you were going to get a tree a day early. Then I was supposed to call you and say "hey. I know the plows probably came but just in case they didnt do a "good job" do you need me to drive home and finish shoveling the driveway?"

Mother is still staring blankly. "Yes. Why didn't you?" I read in her eyes.

Dad: You...make...me...sick.


Post Blog:

In reference to the driveway getting plowed...What my dad means by "they did not do a good job" is they charge for every four inches. So when they came back for the last 3 inches of snow I told them to fuck off because I'm not paying you twice. But these are such finicky details. Smetails if you will. The message here is clear. The moral of our fable unquestionable. I AM A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING.

If you want to send your condolences to my parents for having to put up with my egotistical jack assery please send your letters to 19 Louis W. Farley Dr. Framingham, MA 01702. You can make out your letters to "The unfortunate parents of Siggi Asztalos." Happy holidays.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Notes on the 00's

Best Films: Traffic, Mulholland Dr, Memento, There Will Be Blood, Spirited Away, Kill Bill, A History of Violence, American Psycho, Cache, Amores Perros.

Worst Films: Tie. Signs, The Happening, Lady In The Water. Picking one is like asking whether I want regular, super, or premium gasoline to be poured on my face and then ignited.


Most Popular Band: Nickelback

Worst Band: See above.


Greatest Sports Moment: “Dats my qwaddaback…*sniff*…Dats my team.” And lets not forget Pedro vs. Zimmer.


Greatest Single Year: 2002. "Your lips those thighs/I love it when you look at me baby." What else is there to say?


Best Series of novels about a shy, small town girl that falls for a vampire, and the ensuing forbidden love is used as a literary reworking of Romeo and Juliet as well as a painfully obvious allegory for celibacy: Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris


RIP:


- Britney Murphy

- Michael Jackson

- Jonny Cash

- Layne Staley

- Heath Ledger

- NYSNC

- Backstreet Boys

- rap music

- any Olympian whose name doesn’t rhyme with Michael Phelps

- TV shows not about detectives that bang each other on the side or about doctors that bang each other and do medicine on the side

- cell phones that fit in your pocket

- going to the movies every couple of weeks

- WWF

- breaking up with someone in person

- search engines that don’t end in ‘oogle’

- double cheeseburger for a dollar at McDonalds

- smoking in public

- funny beer commercials

- Planet Pluto

- Chinese river dolphins

- Hayden Panettiere being underage...tear

- good Eminem verses

- a mental image of dinosaurs that's actually cool

- pokers moment in the spotlight

- Chuck Norris facts...fingers crossed for the revival.

- Brad Pitt and Will Smith's youths. Wild Wild West(1999) = hey there cowboy. Legend of Badger Vance(2000) = is that morgan freeman?

- What little remained of Eddie Murphy's career.

- Surge

- Lindsay Lohan's hotness soon followed by Lindsay Lohan's attractiveness proceded by Lindsay Lohan's status as a 1 and finally Lindsay Lohan's resemblance to a human being.


Good Riddance:


- George Bush

- Fiest

- Nu-Metal

- anti-spyware programs

- the war in…never mind

- wassssssssssup

- Everybody Loves Raymond

- Orlando Bloom being in every movie ever made

- Will Farrel being in every comedy ever made and the plot has to do with underdogs usually winning at some lame sport

- cans without wide mouths

- this one is huge...Carlos Mencia. OMG. Praise the lord.

- High School Musical...fingers crossed at least. I will say on record though...I think Zac Efron is a good actor.

- emo everything. Once again. OMG. Praise the lord.

- people thinking I give a shit what their ring tone is

- Mountain Dew "insert atrocious flavor here"

- Shows on which robots "fight." Fight being in quotes cuz by "fight" I mean "entangle in a corner."

- The XFL aka the X-ROFL

- "Can you hear me now?" ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

- "I have good news....I just saved a bunch of money." Double AAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHH!

- with the death of rap we at least reap the benefits of the death of thirteen year old rappers such as Lil "insert any word in the dictionary here."

- The Sims

- New Kids On The Block...again. What were you thinking?

- The WB...wait. What? They just changed it to the CW? FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUU! Well then at least 7th Heaven is gone. I think the oldest kid was 52. Calling Jessica Biel a virgin was becoming a bit cumbersome.


How Did These Not Happen:


- AOL goes out of business

- a cream that replaces shaving is invented

- a TV show about K-Fed and Britney

- The Simpsons is canceled

- American Dad is canceled

- Star Craft 2....there have been 6 operating systems released since this game was announced.

- CSI: Katrina

- Hackers 2

- People stop buying Girls Gone Wild DVDs

- Kanye West gets punched in the face

- Olsen twins do Playboy

- the academy apologizes for their mistake...Crash?...no...that's not what we meant to say.

- American Idol changes a single thing about their format

- we melt pennies and turn them into paper weights

- the Rolling Stones stop touring/the Rolling Stones all die.

- someone beats me in a test of wits

- A gigapet iphone ap

- Comic Book Movie, Sports Movie, and Movie Movie.

- my job is outsourced to India.

- superjournal reaches 1 million hits. Come on now.


Did you know:


- That ten years ago TLC stood for The Learning Channel? Crazy, huh?

- MTV meant Music Television. Whaaa?!?!?

- Rappers...wait for it...rapped!

- People bought CD's...from the store!

- Paris Hilton apparently coined "That's hot." Really? People barely say that, and it sounds older than Paris Hilton.

- Jonny Depp once made movies other than pirates and Tim Burton flix.

- Tim Burton once made good movies.

- People had to write with pens and pencils. What? How did they know how to spell the words they were writing?...I can't remember.

- Al Pacino was an academy award winning actor.

- Books were writen between the bible and Harry Potter.


Welcome to the party:


- Facebook

- Viral videos

- Miley Cyrus

- being cool not based on your clothes but the gadgets you have

- texting people instead of ringing the doorbell

- snuggies

- blogging

- really big sunglasses

- ass inspections at airports

- maybe sometimes almost perhaps thinking about thinking about giving a shit about the environment

- old people playing video games

- double cheeseburger for a dollar from Burger King

- realization that Regan was a moron

- scripted reality TV

- a false notion that people actually care about what you’re doing right now

- a brand of comedy that involves saying fuck and dick descriptions a lot

- sending nude pics of yourself to your high school boyfriend, then breaking up, then killing yourself when he sends the pics to everyone at your school

- new food pyramid. Are eggs good or bad? We still have no fucking clue. Maybe after physicists discover the graviton we'll have a better understanding.

- the phrase "spontaneous dance party" as well as the unfortunate performance of

- an SAT that is somehow more miserable than what it already was

- Just when parents thought it couldnt get worse than 'like' and 'as if' introducing...the verbalization of omg, lol, brb, etc

- WOW

- Atkins and the Subway diet. No. They don't work in case you were wondering.

- Dan Brown, JK Rowling, Stephanie Meyers, and a well needed revival in pure, writing talent.

- Sudoku. I did one on the train today so I'm smart now, right?

- Wikipedia. I read that. I'm smart right? And the ensuing..."No you cannot cite wikipedia as a source on your research paper."

- Uggz. More specifically wearing Uggz as soon as its november even if its 65 degrees outside.

- instant texting at the wheel death syndrome.

- reality tv shows that we were dreading from happening in 1999.

- Zombie Movie Revival!

- The oxymoron that is Disney Channel sex scandal.

- Cash-4-Gold. Put your gold in an envelope that says "Gold Inside" and see if it makes it all the way to our warehouse. If in some insane circumstance it does we'll send you a check for "what have I done" dollars.

- web m.d. and thus no longer a need for doctors except for someone to argue with in the hospital about what you discovered on the internet.

- books and movies about how the world will end in 2012. Why am I wasting my time writing this? We're all gonna die!


Thursday, December 10, 2009

sNOOOOOw

Theres a word for tall and a word for short but not for someone in between. There's a word for fat and a word for skinny but if you're neither you're just 'normal.' You are of 'average' height. Thats how our language works, we only have unique words for the poles. So the fact that there is a condition termed 'seasonal affective disorder' confuses me.

When you get out of work/class at 4:10 and its pitch black outside...who doesn't want to turn their car on and wrap their lips around the muffler? We've all been waiting for a bus when its -12 outside and contemplated lying down in a ball and just letting go of that last breath of air.

Winter comes from the germanic wentruz which roughly translates to 'months of suckass.' It fucking sucks bonkerscock. So when I spend 30 minutes digging out a car only to realize its not mine, then moving on to my car only to have all my work undone by a late plow truck, and I throw the shovel at a woman with a stroller...don't tell me I have a disorder. This is what I call 'normal' behavior.

At this rate lets have a term like 'wartime depression.' Whats that? Oh thats when you're country is being invaded and your family and friends are getting slaughtered on the streets so you get a little more down than usual : (

Or maybe 'post ultraviolence disorder.' That's when you watch your wife get raped by a gang of hoodlums and then you're left crippled for life so you feel kinda sad and stuff.

Now that apartheid is over winter is the worst thing in the modern world. Of course I'm depressed about it. However, maybe seasonal affective disorder fits more linguistically in tune with a word like selfish. Everyone is inherently selfish, we need to to be in order to survive, so its implied that when we describe someone as selfish we mean they are more concerned with personal things than the average person who's only moderately selfish.

If this is the case then I definitely have seasonal affective disorder. Most people are like: hey, at least we can ski now. I'd rather it be summer for 365 days straight but I have AIDS for 4 months every year than there be a winter.

Q: Siggi. Why dont you just move somewhere warmer?
A: Shut the fuck up.

But then there's another psyche related phrase that gets thrown around this time of the year: holiday blues or christmas anxiety etc. Now this one really puzzles me. People are like we have to get a tree, buy presents, cook food. Yeah. So? All those things are fucking awesome. Who doesnt like Christmas trees? Fuckin commies. You buy presents for people who then get you presents. I don't care that I got you a $100 CD box set and you got me a $20 waffle maker because now I have a waffle maker! Where'd Siggi go? Oh he's just in the kitchen MAKIN FUCKIN WAFFLES!

Thank god winter is overloaded with holidays. If all the holidays were in summer and we had to go all of winter with just a few mondays off I would have offed myself winter of 91 in kindergarten.

So I'll probably do a lot of drinking starting now. But don't call me an alcoholic; I'm just depressed. But not like mental problems depressed just depressed cuz its cold and shit. In no way, shape, or form is this self medication. Why don't we use something with positive connotation for a change...adaptation. Yeah. That's it. Pour me a shot for every degree we get below 32.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Different Worlds

My roommate once asked me how much money I would have to be given in order to get a tribal or barbwire tattoo that would be clearly visible for the rest of my life. We were on completely different pages. He was thinking of a 5 digit number. I was thinking bajillions of kahtrillions. "You wouldn't get barb wire around the bicep for $10,000? That is such a lie and you know it." A moment of ponder and then I gave my reasoning:

The moment that tat is complete we have created an alternate universe for myself. Let us call the original universe 'A' and the new universe that I sport my new tattoo in universe 'B.' In universe A it is theoretically possible that I be sitting in a Starbucks, to get out of the cold because fuck coffee, when I lock eyes with a girl who could be an angel minus the wings and halo. She drops her eyes into her mug, uneasily strokes her hair to the side, and tries to hide a smile. But I see it and head over. It turns out shes in med school. She wants to be an internist to really help people.

Three years from that chance encounter and we're happily married. Two kids arrive. Iggis goes on to discovering a way to relate mathematical ring/field theory to the genome and the world is changed forever by her work. A child with a genetic condition is never born again. Signog, on the other hand, goes on to win 6 French opens in his astonishing career before retiring to persue humanitarian goals.

As for myself? Well, my mind is in such a perfect place that I spend four years writing a book. Upon its publish it is lauded as one of the greatest accomplishments in modern philosphy and literature, a feat stamped by a Pulitzer Prize. The New York book review will write of my thoughts..."Its strange that Siggi explores the theme of Utopia only briefly in his masterpiece for I imagine that in a world where everyone reads this book...that would be a true Utopia."

As it so happens, everyone does just that. It will be 674 years from that date before a human being sheds a tear. Then Dumisani Mwagoda will slip on the second to last step of her home in South Africa twisting her ankle. She will secreate 2 ounces of human tears. 0.75 ouces will be retained in a jar and put into a museum in Stockholm with a caption reading "A glimps into a diffent world."


~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~or~


I head into a Starbucks and take off the coat I bought with the ten thousand dollars my roommate gave me. I sit down when I lock eyes with a girl who could be an angel minus the wings and halo. She drops her eyes into her mug, uneasily strokes her hair to the side, and tries to hide a smile. But I see it and head over. She's about to tell me she goes to med school when she sees the ink on my arm.

"...I'm sorry. I...left some eggs boiling at the apartment."

I will never get laid again. The only girls that will come near me make me cough from the amount of spray in their hair. Also despite their orange skin I cant get past the yellow glow of their teeth.

My friends will go out with me for a while. With ten grand I can make it rain afterall, but soon the funds will be dry and everyone will notice that I'm the one driving away all the attractive females. I'll head out to the clubs alone for a few months until a few popped collar dudes with gelled hair notice my tat and invite me into their tripod. It will only take a week for them to discover I'm a phony when I inadvertently do a 5-5-5 pump. Apparently its 5 down pumps then 7 mid pumps for each of the days it took to create the earth and only then can you bring it to god with five more pumps. What was I thinking?

At some point I'll get Aids, not from fornication of course, but from a dirty needle. With nothing left I have obviously turned to drugs. After a few months of living on the street I find myself in a confession booth for the first time in my life. The priest assures me god will forgive all my sins. So I tell him about how I hang around the middle school since tweens are the only attractive girls that don't have the sense yet to know instantly how much of a loser I am. P.S. I have Aids.

At this point the priest kicks down the door and strangles me to death. Despite scratch marks on his face that match my nails and two witnesses, another priest and an altar boy, the judge will rule that it was self defense. A reporter will ask my mom what she thinks of the verdict and she will say that if the priest hadn't done it she would have. When asked the same question my dad will say that he too enjoys Clint Eastwood films. The reporter will then ask "What?" and my dad will say "Huh?" (Gravity, space-time, and my dad are universal constants that cannot be altered by any sense of reality).

Then I will be buried in the back of that same church with a tombstone that simply reads "With Glee We Let This Asshole Depart to a Different World."

For ten thousand dollars I will drink nothing but Moxie for a year.
For a million dollars I would read the Twilight Saga, watch all the movies, and star as a regular cast member in the TV show on the CW for six entire seasons.
For a billion dollars I would become Dr. Phills personal assistant for 5 years.
For a trillion dollars I would eat a live baby. Then spend half of it scientifically reconstructing that baby from my stool. Then using the other half to cure cancer.
There is no amount of money I will accept to get a tribal tattoo. Period.

Rare Interviews

It took two weeks of effort on my part but I finally managed to get Stephenie Meyers on the phone. I told her I was from the Sun's book review staff and just wanted to ask her a couple of questions. She was at a hotel on a promotion tour for her new book, a love triangle with aliens involved. She sounded bored so she agreed to do the interview. And here it is:

Me: I'm so glad you took time out of your busy schedule to talk. With New Moon in the theaters it must be hectic.
Meyer: Yeah. It is.
Me: So I'm just gonna get right into it. Your writing, your books, your ideas.
Meyer: Sure.
Me: Okay then. Do you know what sentences are?
Meyer: ....
(click)
Me: Hello?

Thanks for wasting my time, Steph. Well, I had to fill the page with something so I called Taylor Lautner. I told him I was from Rollingstone and I had some follow up questions about the interview we just did with him. He said he was "teasing his hair" and "working some reps" in a tanning room but he could squeeze me in.

Lautner: So my manager says there's some confusion about my interview. **grunts**
Me: Yeah. We think you may have misspoke. Swapped some words around in some of your answers as some sort of subconscious slip and just wanted to check in before we published something that was wrong.
Lautner: Oh. What did I say?
Me: Well Neil asked you about the love triangle and you said "I personally love Jacob and Bella's relationship, and how they began as friends. They are so much more open, and can tell each other anything. And Bella and Edward's relationship, it's always tense. It's always serious."
Lautner: I don't see anything wrong there...
Me: Really? Cuz we rewatched the movie over here at Rollingstone and thought maybe you had Edward and Bella mixed up.
Lautner: What? How does that even make sense?
Me: Well. You know. Every time Edward is on screen you take your shirt off...start sweating...get all heated up...howl.
Lautner: What?!?! Thats cuz...Man, fuck this.
(click)
Me: Hello?

Damnit. How do reporters do this shit?

Monday, October 12, 2009

Just One Jackson

Here's a list of things you can get with twenty dollars in this country:

A DVD
Half a tank of gas
Two Cheese Pizzas
Harry Potter Book
A baseball cap
A nice pair of socks
A Britney Spears poster
50ft of ethernet cable
Ipod carrying case
A set of three replacement razor blades
A gram
A litter of rum
A special edition cd
Having Siggi flogged by two ugly strippers with his own belt. Price includes blood red ass cheeks, a series of cock punches so that his belt can be forcefully removed, and of course watching a grown man put his pants back on with tears in his eyes.


One of these things is not like the other ones.

I mean seriously. Why pay $23 for two movie tickets when you can fork out a dinky twenty bills to see Passion of the Christ reenacted in your very own living room? I don't know what its like to have nails hammered through my limbs but I know now what it feels like to have skin peeled from your ass. I also know what its like to be betrayed by a Judas. You can't spell Lucifer without Luu.

One last thing you can get with 20 bills: a cushion to bring to work for your healing ass.

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Stupidity Timeline: Volume 1

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It all started at Wendy's. I'm thinking man these chicken nugz are delicious when the screaming of a group of kids tears me away from my honey mustard dunkin. Apparently two kids got different toys. Evidently the piece of plastic with the end that spins is far superior to the piece of plastic with the end that rotates thus all hell has broken loose. So the mom caves and goes to exchange one of them. Meanwhile the kids have lost interest in the toys and are competing over who can get more nostril filling on a fry with one swoop.

First I think, man these kids are stupid. Then I think, hell, all kids are so stupid. And then I thought about something I haven’t thought about in a very very long time…was I this stupid? Now I have a really good memory, and I’m not trying to brag, because the answer soon came to me. Yes. Yes, I was sooooooooooooooooooooo stupid. It’s not simply that I thought stupid things were cool. Every thought, event, decision, fear, interest, creative idea, justification, and dream I had about anything was completely and utterly founded in absolute stupidity.

Work would have to wait. I spent the next two hours sitting in that Wendy’s going through my life year by year. Everything I remembered was marinaded in stupidity. But then I got to high school and the stupidity continued. College, more idiocy. And when I got to a month ago I realized that stupidity wasn’t something you outgrow.

I realized I had to write down a few. So that I could learn from my mistakes. Then I realized I had to post what I wrote on my blog. So that you can laugh at my mistakes. I encourage everyone everywhere to do this. Not only is it a humbling experience, but you gain so much perspective. It’s like we turn thirteen and forget what its like to be a kid. At twenty we’re laughing at teenagers. How a little trip down memory lane really opens the eyes. It even offers perspective on ages we haven’t reached. No wonder parents act the way they do when their kids behave like this. But more important than the infinite insight, of course, is the entertainment value. I could do a similar exercise with a timeline of all my accomplishments to remind myself of my achievements and how I’ve grown over the years. But that’s not funny so who gives a shit. So instead I invite you on this journey:

(note: posts followed by a “present me” dialogue reflect what my present self would say to my actual self during the situation if time travel were possible)

1985:

I am born. Despite not having the ability to lift my head I can breathe. It’s a miracle. I’m so pure. So innocent. So cute. So stupid and useless.

Present Me: Boom! Hello world! Datswutimtalkinbout!

1988:

One of my first real memories, as in not just a shape or a sound but an actual thought, is of my brother. I remember he was sleeping and I was thinking about how my body was so much larger than his, but our heads were about the same size. I tried putting my head next to his to gain perspective on this insane discovery but I woke up the little bastard. Awww. The days when stupidity is euphemized as cuteness.

Present Me: Punch him in the face now. At some point he'll deserve it.

1989:

I have surgery to repair a hernia. My brother will tell kids for the next two decades that I was born with one ball. In 2009 he goes under the knife to repair a tweaked vagina…I mean hernia. Karma’s a bitch. Either way the nurse tells me I can’t leave until I fill a cup with piss. Not having to go I decide to will myself into urination. And by “will” I mean squeeze random muscles throughout my body, hold my breath, and make my face turn red. The stitches I just got are being ripped apart and I almost blow a vessel in my brain until finally my concentration is broken by my dad’s “What the hell are you doing?” Then the doctor suddenly realizes how a four year old can get a hernia. Let’s just say I would use a similar physical process to try to move objects with my mind.

Present Me: Piss in the cup. Pisssssss.

1990:

My Pre-K class is giving a Tony worthy performance tonight in the auditorium. The climax entails all twenty six of us lining up and saying one line about our designated letter. I’m at the end. I’m supposed to say “Z is for Zebra in the Zoo.” Yeah. One fucking line and instead this is what happens. As soon as the curtain opens and I see the sea of people I convince myself that all these people are here to both laugh at me and to throw stones at my teeth. So as the curtain is opening past me I stealthy grab onto it and ninja off the stage. I wrap the end of the curtain around me and I have all but disappeared. This part of the covert mission works fantastically. What I neglected to think about was how people actually know that there are 26 letters in the alphabet and that ‘Z’ is the last letter. Had I stayed on the stage maybe 40% of the people there would have looked at me for a total of five seconds.

Instead I have opted for the latter option where every single person in the entire room including the kids on the stage are looking for Mr. Z. On top of that all the cameras are rolling and using amazing zoom technology someone is able to find two little feet sticking out under the curtain at the end of the stage. Soon enough a room full of people hasn’t laughed this hard since a pipe leaked at the nitrous oxide factory. Lucky for me the curtain is red so when I finally make my appearance you can’t really see where my face is. Someone throwing rocks at this point would have little effect now in the grand scale of things.

Present Me: Hey. ‘V’ is for Vagina Face licking Vagina.

1991:

The principal of Marie Riviere Elementary School is quite possibly the most comforting human being in the history of the universe. At present I’m seated in front of her and she’s asking me a couple of real tough questions like: what is your name and how old are you? With no curtain to hide behind and having left both my smoke bombs and my dignity at home what ensues is me sitting there and just staring at her like a deer in headlights. My parents assure her that I can speak English and encourage me to say something. Anything. Even dogs can bark on command. And literally a dog would have averted what I just did…end up in ESL.

But Siggi, if you were actually fluent in English surely the teachers there would soon discover that you don’t belong in the class, right? Nope. A year and a half of eating tacos, whacking piƱatas, and staring blankly at anyone that asked me a question followed. Finally I spoke a full English sentence and they put me back with the regular class. One more week of gapping mouth staring on my part and they would have put me in the retard class.

Present Me: They shoulda put you in the retard class.

1991:

For the first month of kindergarten I would cry every day when we lined up to go to lunch. And I don’t mean like a baby. I wasn’t crying to get people’s attention and attain something. In fact, it was the opposite. I would tear up and try to hide it. I have something in my eye for the twentieth fucking day in a row. Fuck you. Then one day I stopped and my teacher pulled me out of class to give me a piece of shit plastic toy, which of course I though was the greatest thing in the universe.

Alternately one more week of pathetic whimpering and they would have put me in the retard class. Mom and dad expected nothing but A’s out of me, but the truth was every day for me was one giant struggle to stay out of the retard class.

Present Me: They already have a helmet picked out for you down in SPED, man. Don’t fight it.

1992:

Some zero is trying to cop a glance at my math quiz. I’m sorry, I only dish out free answers to ones. I cover my sheet but she literally starts pulling my hand away. So I retract my arm forcefully and tell her to find something else to eat. Of course, Mrs. Martin only turns her head when it looks like I’m about to slap a bitch upside the face and so now I’m in trouble. She gives me this yellow piece of paper with two bears on it. One is crying and the other one is also making a very sad face. Despite my pleas she tells me my mom has to sign this form. I think nothing of this. I got in trouble for no reason. I can tell that to my mom. She’ll sign it, and we’ll move on with our lives.

Instead my mom starts crying. And I mean like end of the world crying. She’s telling me that my life is over. That this will go on my permanent record and that colleges will see this when I apply and I’ll be at a severe disadvantage. Siggi Asztalos mental snapshot: What the fuck is college? She continues to bawl in the bathroom. “So are you gonna sign it or what?” Well that didn't help.

My dad arrives from work and unfortunately has a totally different style of parenting. You know that move E. Honda from Street Fighter does where he hits his opponent so many times so fast that his arms are a blur on the screen? That’s exactly what my dad was doing to my face. Two different approaches but both with the same goal of striking fear in me so that I never “screw up” again. What I learned very quickly, instead, was how to forge a signature.

So at this point you may be thinking why this belongs on here. I didn’t really do anything stupid. But I think it offers great perspective into my psyche(mother crying on the toilet. father tenderizing my face. this is how you end up with Siggi Asztaloses. World scientists take note). And also you’d be wrong in the first place. Remember when I thought “I can tell that to my mom. She’ll sign it, and we’ll move on with our lives.” Well even granted that I was only seven, that still might have been one of the dumbest thoughts that ever crossed my mind. What the hell was I thinking? IT’S MOM.

Present Me: What the hell were you thinking? IT’S MOM!

1992:

Everyone in my class is going “Ohhhhhhhhh.” The teacher does an ESPN worthy slow motion dive to reach the pause button on the VCR. We do not get to finish watching "Look Who’s Talking." I have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on so after school I ask a girl on the bus what the fiasco was. She says that the main guy flipped someone the bird. I’m all like…Oh. Yeah. Totally. Whatever, though, right? I flip people the bird all the time. Siggi Asztalos Mental Snapshot: This must have something to do with talking babies.

Flash forward three months. Summer camp. Classic yo momma battle goin down. I usually win these, but today this happens…

Joey: Oh yeah. Yo momma so fat she use the highway as a slippin slide.

All the kids: Oh snap! Wow she must be fat. That’s crazy!!

Me: Oh yeah. I went over to your house last night and flipped your mom’s bird!

All the kids: ?????????????

Joey: ???????????????

Present Me: ??????????????

1993:

Mom and dad take Ivor and me to this nerd trap where they test us to see if we belong in Gifted and Talented classes. The lady puts three cards on the table with pictures on them, and tells me to put them in chronological order and explain my reasoning. Apparently the “correct” answer is 1…Kid digs a hole. 2…Kid plants a tree in the hole. 3…Now that his work is done he grabs his rod and goes fishing. I put the cards down in the only possible way to not have any of them in the right spot. Obviously this kid wants to go fishing but he needs some worms. So he digs a hole, and gets his worms but now he has to put the tree back in the hole. Siggi Asztalos Mental Snapshot: That’s called thinking outside the box, baby. Gifted and Talented here I come. Instead the idea of putting me in the retard class floats its way back to the surface.

Present Me: I also hate it when I’m digging a hole and a tree falls up out of it…

1993:

Stupidity worked in my favor that once because instead of Gifted and Talented “GT” should stand for ‘G’od awful waste of ‘T’ime. It gets started on ruining my life right away. Because my parents want Ivor to be in origami the class…I mean GT…we now have to switch schools in the middle of the grade. Fuck Uuuuuuuuu. This is gonna come as a shock, but my BFF in elementary school was a chick (a one obviously). And that day when the teacher announced it would be my last at the wonderful Marie Riviere Elementary School my little friend cried like a pitching machine was hitting her in the face with onions all day. The fems hex me for hours to go give her a hug, talk to her, let her know it will be alright. So I put my chivalry hat on and make my way over to our fair damsel in distress. These are literally the first words that come out of my mouth: “Please stop crying. It makes your face look weird.” Wow.

Present Me: Who dialed zero and asked for the smooooooth operator?


To be continued…



Friday, September 4, 2009

Jogger Types

I have no quarrel with the average Boston jogger. Perhaps running in front of my car as I'm taking a right is the extent to which they disrupt my day. Nor is there any entertainment value derived from them minus the occasional digger I happen to be at the right place and right time to see. But there are a few jogger oddities out there. Some that annoy me. Some that crack me up just thinking about their existence. As impossible as it seems. Some that do both.


1. "Mother always assured me I was special."

Look at me everybody. I’m an eighteen to twenty four year old jogging on the banks of the Charles. You probably already speculate that I am a fine, privileged student at the University of Harvard, but just to set all suspicions aside I’m running fully equipped with a crimson Harvard shirt and white running shorts with a golden Harvard logo glaring in the sun. You should interpret my slight head nod when I pass you pedestrians as not only a sign of superiority, but also masked pity. I’m so much better than you that sometimes it makes me sad. I always run with an ethnically diverse group for just because I’m a filthy rich white boy from Connecticut doesn’t mean I can’t get along with Africans and Indians. I can. They just have to be from equally affluent backgrounds. We’re all going sailing later. When a latino or black man that clearly is not a Harvard student comes toward us on the sidewalk we jump into on coming traffic. I’d rather take my chances with a roaring bus than risk the uncertainty of this black man noticing my nostrils clenching as I pass him. A shrieking car horn tears me away from my daydream of whipping slave hides alongside my great great grandfather. Speaking of black things, when we return to the safety of Harvard Sq. we all purchase espresso’s con panna.

2. "I don't take days off from being a tool."

I tie my shoes and head out the front door. Its 34 degrees and pouring. The trembling thunder claps assure me that it’s a great day for a run. A passing car splashes a mix of grime, piss, and acid rain into my face…refreshing. As I pass a bus stop full of ethnic people huddled into the small covered area I hear one of them say, “Fucking white people.” I smile at them to let them know that I accept their compliment graciously. When I get home and strip my drenched clothing I stop in front the mirror to inspect how skinny I am. I also think about how not having shaved in weeks has finally paid off because I look like Ryan Gosling from that scene in The Notebook. What a great movie. What a great day. If only I had a job or some sort of usefulness to this world. Oh well, maybe my girlfriend will wanna go for a run with me after we eat our vegan shepards pie. I contemplate not drying off to continue to look like Ryan Gosling until her arrival.

3. "You didn't think somebody could be a jogger poser did you?'

I look like a common jogger. A really really really gay one, but I’m not out for a run this is actually just the way I dress. It’s part of my scene you see. I’m one of these people: http://a0.vox.com/6a00bf76d0a9b7438300e398c20f580002-500pi. We can be found throughout the hipper boroughs of Boston. If you’re wondering what’s playing on my ipod, its Paramore. Despite my appearance I have actually never run before seeing as I’m not an athlete and I have nowhere to go being permanently unemployed. Luckily my rent is 23 dollars a month, one of the many benefits of living with 40 people. We only have one shower, but that’s okay cuz I don’t. Right now I’m heading over to American Eagle where I’ll proceed to the preteen girls section immediately. When we leave the store I’ll get jumped by a gang of middle school delinquents at the mall, both guys and girls. I’d fight back, but my inability to do so prevents me from doing it. Luckily all my friends are here to take the beating with me because we all dress the same. But I dress the way I do to be unique. It all makes sense if you really think about it. I know because someone at Hot Topic explained it to me using some shirts there as teaching aids.

4. "If I run two blocks I can eat a double big mac to celebrate right?"

Hi. I'm out for a run, but you give me a confused look because I'm so fat I look like the rear end of a rhinoceros bludgeoning the side walk. It turns out my conscience only manages to trick me into running about once every three years. I won’t reach these speeds again for another thousand days or perhaps next time I hear the captivating sirens of Apollo’s chariot in its summer time disguise, the ice-cream truck. I’m unable to fit on the sidewalk beside other people, and I’ve dreaded grass since the last time I made the mistake of stepping foot onto it when three tow trucks were called to pull me out of that terrible quick sand people call a lawn. Lucky for me when I run my thighs clap together and aided by the natural physics of the Doppler effect the sound omitted when I am approaching has been described to me by someone as, “Imagine if you could hear lightning and see thunder.” This phenomenon aptly clears the sidewalk for miles, however, a young man in Allston wearing an Outkast t-shirt once suggested I stay on the railway tracks. Then he tried swiping his Charlie card between two of my chins.

5. "The tortoise beat the hare if you can remember."

I’m running and you’re walking but we’re going the same speed. After two blocks I notice that you notice this, and I can see through your clothes and skin to realize that all your cells on the inside are laughing at me. I pick up my pace and pull ahead, but suddenly I’m really tired. Before I can even recover you’re walking beside me again, and now you’re talking on your cell phone. Over my panting I can tell that you are telling your friend all about this, and I can hear her laughing on the other end. A guy jogging with his dog passes us. That’s not fair, though, the dog is probably dragging him like a sled. We get to the end of the block and I have a brilliant idea. I’ll detour around the block and make my jog a little longer. When I get back to the street I can see you on the horizon. How the fuck do you people walk so fast? Either way I can finally enjoy my run…until I see a shadow creeping up on me. God I hope it’s a biker. A rollerbladder. At least another jogger. Instead an old Chinese woman with two arms filled with groceries passes by. She is followed by her toddler dragging a doll on the ground. When I collapse on my couch at home it’s fortunate that I’m too exhausted to commit suicide.

6. "Sometimes the birds talk to me. They say help us, man."

After a strenuous quarter mile jog I’m ready to stop at the park and strike ridiculous poses. I assure you that these are stretches. Once I’m limber I like to follow up with some Thai Che. It helps me lower my heart rate as well as look like a complete jack ass simultaneously. I read the Art of Sun Tzu back in college, but then ripped some of the pages out to roll joints with. Fortunately the public library failed to notice. I like to run near the Beacon Hill reservoir because my Native American name is “running stream.” If you’re curious as to how many diverse cultures I can sacrilege the answer is at least three because I also converted to Islam back when Jay-Z made it cool. Also my grandmother is from Mexico so I feel the pain of my latino amigos. When I visit her on Sundays after Christian church(counts at four now) she always looks up from her cooking and calls me “el chilito.” She never lets me eat the food, but I know that’s so I can preserve this spiritually pure and earthly body. In her honor I tattooed those beautiful words to my chest right below the ghandi quote that was there(five).


Wait. The more i think about it I just described every jogger in my city.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Classic Mom and Dad Moments

I haven't lived at home in two years and before that I was in school for 4 years so I havent really had to endure 10 days of the family in a very long time. But a few weeks ago we went on a family vacation for the first time in like 10 years. And this question came up for the first time in a long ass time: how the hell are me and my brother even semi-normal? The following are only the dialogues I actually remember from the trip...

Dad: Go to Blue Cactus.
(I have no idea what he’s talking about because this is completely out of context)
Me: What?
Dad: Go to the-
Me: What the hell are you talking about, though?
Dad: To eat. Go to the Blue Cactus. I was told it was good.
Me: What kind of food is it?
Dad(keep in mind that im literally right next to him): What?
Me(slowly, not so he can hear better but so it can register): What kind of food is it?
Dad: No.
Me: Are you serious? What kind of food is it? Is it Caribbean?
Dad: No. Definitely not.
Me: So then?
Dad: What?
Me: Jesus fucking christ…What kind of food does this place serve?
Dad: Caribbean.
Me: Mother of God.

(we just finished a dive)
Dad: Ivor, did you see the French angel fish there at the end?
Ivor: Yeah.
Mom: How was it?
Ivor: Dad’s like the worst dive master ever.
Dad(completely perplexed): What are you talking about?
Ivor: You pay no attention to us whatsoever. At least if you weren’t even here we wouldn’t think we were in reliable hands and we’d know we had to fend for ourselves.
Dad: You are crazy. I never took my eyes off either you for a second.
Mom: Where’s Siggi?
Dad: Who?

(Monday)
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
(Tuesday)
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
(Wednesday)
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
(Thursday)
Mom: Sure is hot today. But it’s always windy, huh?
(…)


Mom: How’s work?
Me: I’m not talking about work on vacation. And don’t ask me if I’ve been going to the gym either. Is there nothing else in the life of your eldest son you give a shit about besides these two things?
(we eat in silence for 15 minutes)
Mom: Exercise is very important. Are you getting enough of it?
(I contemplate stabbing myself in the eye with my fork for the next 20 minutes)

Ivor: Goddamn it! I thought my towel had flown into the ocean. Now I realize you’ve been using it to wipe the saltwater off the floor of the boat!
Dad: This is your towel? Not hotels?
(it’s the only towel that doesn’t look like all the other hotel towels.)
Ivor: You watched me pack it. Screamed at me since it looked too large.
(dad continues to wipe brine from the boat bottom so he can put his camera there)
Ivor: Are you serious?
Dad: Its too late now…

Mom: How’s the cake?
Dad: Terrible. But at least it’s not very sweet.
Me: Maybe if…never mind.

(my dad walks by in a tiny speedo, his diving boots, and a support belt around his waste. Words cannot describe how retarded he looks)
Me: I can’t tell if those children are crying or laughing. Can you put something normal on?
Dad: I’m hungry too. We’ll get dinner in a bit.
Me: What?
Dad: Huh?

(Monday)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
(Tuesday)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
(Wednesday)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
(Thursday)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
(…)

(We’re going 20 km/h. Yes. You read that right. Kilometers an hour)
Mom: Slow down.
(there’s a stop sign a quarter of a mile away)
Mom: Stop sign.
Ivor: Shut up, woman.
(there’s a car coming in the opposite direction. A rare event indeed)
Mom: Car coming.
Me: Jesus Christ.
Dad: Seriously. Chill out.
(a car passes us on the major road completely legally)
Mom: ***the shrill cry of a thousand banshees. No human has ever reached this pitch***
(my dad starts swerving off the road and regains control. The car stalls. He swings around in his seat)
Dad: I almost crashed the car because you screamed for no reason. Do you understand how counterproductive this is?
(she stares at him like an alien is explaining their light speed technology to her)
Mom: Look. There’re some goats. How cute.
Me: Someone just kill me.
Ivor: Take the next left.
Mom: Stop sign. Slow down.


Dad: Do you have everything?
Ivor: Yeah.
Dad: Mask, fins, BC. You don’t have something out there and it’s too late. No dive.
Me: We checked.
(at the dive site)
Dive Master: Sir. Where’s your weight belt?
Dad: It’s not in the bucket?
Dive Master: Why would it be in the bucket? Did you put it there?
Dad: Your mother must have taken it in last night?
Ivor: Mom got on the boat and took your weight belt which she’s never seen and brought it back to the room?
Dad: There’s no other explanation.
Me: Court adjourned. You heard it.
(back at the dock the dive master is kidding around with me the next day)
Dive Master: Make sure the old man brings all his stuff, eh?
(dad overhears. Comes running over)
Dad: What is this?
Dive Master: I was just telling your son to make sure you didn’t forget anything. They have young minds. Me and you are getting old you know. It happens.
Dad: Yeah. These two forget everything everywhere. Never paying attention.
(I can’t tell if the dive master’s face reads disgust, confusion, pity, or desire to inflict pain. All I know is I’ve seen the face before and just affiliate it now to the “dad just said something to someone that doesn’t know him” face)

(monday)
Mom: Ivor, you’re too skinny. You’re like a twig.
(Thursday)
Mom: Ivor, you’re too fat. You should lose some weight.

(when you read dialogue by my mom in this section do so in the most annoying and nagging voice you can think of. Actually. Come to think of it that’s how you should always read it regardless of the section)
Mom: Siggi. Put some sunscreen on. You’ll get burnt.
Me: I already did.
Mom: Ivor, why don’t you sit outside instead of in here?
Ivor: If I wanted to sit outside I’d sit outside. I can walk you know?
Mom: Why don’t you walk on the other side of the street where there’s a sidewalk?
Me: Chill out. We’re not retarded, you know?
Mom: It’s very sunny, Ivor, you should put on sunglasses.
Ivor: I’m going in the water to swim. Jesus Christ.
Mom: Did you take your pills?
Dad: You’ve asked me a hundred times. The answer is still yes.
Mom: Why don’t you fold your sheet like this?
Me: I can’t take this anymore.
(my moms swimming in the ocean as we are putting our gear on. She’s visibly struggling to fight the current and simply stay on the surface)
Dad: Kati. Put on your fins. It will make it much easier.
(she stands up. Waves hit her causing her to stumble repeatedly as she screams)
Mom: Why can’t everyone leave me the hell alone? I just want to do what I want okay? It’s my vacation too. Why can’t you all just let me be?! Jesus fucking Christ!!!
(my ribs have never hurt this bad before. Ivor almost falls off the cliff laughing)

(the back story here is that someone stole all four tires off of our rental truck)
Dad: Is this a good spot?
Diver: It was beautiful. Slippery to get in though.
(they get into their truck to leave)
Dad: Are these new tires? Did you get them last night?
Diver: What?...This is a rental…
Dad: (laughing hysterically) No. It’s just that someone stole all our tires last night.
Diver: Oh.
Me: Do you not understand like how jokes work?
Dad: It’s funny because they took our tires last night.
(The guy starts to pull away slowly. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.)

Katie: Ivor. Did you get burned?
Dad: Ivor is get so red he is dying. I am like don’t but he just keep doing. Now look at him.
(Katie obviously is in “what the hell just happened mode.” But apparently this was a joke because my dad is cracking up.)
Me: Can we please record this and pitch it to cable? Who wouldn’t watch this? This is hilarious.
Dad: I know. I am big funny one.
(TV fucking gold)

(12:05)
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
(12:07)
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
(12:11)
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.
(12:12)
Mom: I’m glad we came this way and had a chance to see the flamingos.


(My dad is playing with someone’s baby like it’s a puppy on the plane. A retarded puppy.)
Person: Can you stop touching my baby?
Dad: Yes. Is baby.
(She makes that same face I was talking about earlier. I mean. Come on. If you’ve met my dad then you’ve made it before.)