I can't imagine anyone looking through my phone. It's not because of all the anime porn google searches and tits that I've screenshotted off of Snap Chat but because of my last 3 texts.
They are...
1. Heil Hitler!
2. Mein Fuhrer!
3. How many times can I watch Love Actually in the months of November/December without actually becoming gay?
Now on the nose 2 long standing assumptions about me would be confirmed. I'm a raging antisemite and a total gay. But that's not quite true. I'm currently reading one of the best books ever written called The Book Thief. It takes place in Nazi Germany where all the normal German citizens were forced to salute each other on the streets by saying absurd shit like Mein Fuhrer and Heil Hitler or they would be gassed along with all the other Jews/Catholics/Gays/Blacks/Gypsies or whoever the fuck else the Nazis felt like killing that day. Myself and my twisted book club members have adopted this as a way of addressing eachother. Fucked up? Maybe, but not anti Jew. (A Jew is the hero of the book, I'm rooting for him...I give him a 50/50 shot of surviving.)
As for the Love Actually thing, well there is no excuse, except to just admit it's the greatest fucking movie ever made. So under that assumption of course I was going to see that director's recent rom com offering, About Time.
I went to a pre release screening on the Universal Lot (because I have a more interesting life than you) and while I wasn't blown away like I was at Love Actually, it was a lovely film.
The movie tracks a schlubby red head in his somewhat creepy pursuit of Rachel McAdams, the wrinkle is he can travel back in time, so any time he slightly fucks up with this chick he goes back and tries again, knowing the proper decision to make. It's kind of like an R rated British Groundhog Day.
I left the movie wondering what I would do with the power of time travel. I assume that I would probably use it to acquire a modest fortune and then track down the girl of my dreams (after obviously using the power for a 2 year fuck fest with every hot girl I ever wanted to bang) but I also think I could change the world in 5 quick trips through time. Make the world a better place for everyone, because with great power comes great responsibility. And it would be a shame to use time travel exclusively for the benefit of MY wallet and penis.
5. Where: Silicon Valley, CA Time: Circa 2011
Sometime around the advent of the iPhone 4 a new app allowed for emotes to be sent from phone to phone through iMessage. These emotes would grow to be compatible with twitter, instagram and ALL CHICKS. Literally, if you are a guy...the quickest way to get your dick in a chick's mouth is to blow her shit up with emotes. You don't even have to type words, enough winky faces, it's a done deal.
However, there are some VERY OBVIOUS omissions on the current iteration of iPhone's Emoji app, and in a society of painful tinder conversations is there any awkward silence that wouldn't be completely saved by a winking Pikachu? Girls love the wink, and everyone fucking loves Pikachu, he is adorable. Make that motherfucker wink??? Panties = soaked.
I would merely suggest this to the programmers and those Japanese-culture obsessed nerds would put that in there right away and probably give me 10% of the company. Big win for everyone involved.
The Impact: Nerds everywhere are getting laid, there is a national reduction in sexual frustration. National tragedies are avoided because instead of plotting mass murders, people that were previously in their basement playing World of Warcraft are riding Pikachu's winking coattails to Grand Central Station of the Pussytown express.
4. Where: Standford University Time: Fall of 2009
A week ago I had this idea to write an entire thesis about how the reason Jonathan Martin quit the NFL was the exact same thing as a pledge quitting a frat during pledgeship. But since John Martin was like a triple legacy (NFL player) nationals was going to get involved (the commissioner) and fire some people in the Miami Dolphins organization (brotherhood review)
You like that fucking metaphor? Mic drop.
Anyway, I decided against it because I'm not a sports blogger and I'm already too fratty. I needn't focus the attention on my prior awesomeness, you were all there...as Drake would say "if you ain't been a part of it at least you got to witness" God my arrogance is almost too much for me to even handle...
So I wasn't going to write the blog. Flash forward to Saturday. I get all fucked up at the USC/Standford tailgate, then high tail it to an IU party in Brentwood. As soon as I get there I am immediately sequestered in a bedroom.
"Are you drunk?"
Very.
"Ok, I'm going to tell you something and I really need you not to be an asshole about this. You can blog all about it Monday but don't make this weird."
What.
"You know that guy that quit the Dolphins because he was being bullied or whatever?"
Ya.
"He's here."
What do you mean he's here...
"He knows my new roommate, he is here, at this party drinking."
Isn't he on suicide watch in a mental institution or something?
"No his buddy brought that Fireball."
So ya, I was at a party with Jonathan Martin Saturday night. Hitting on white women. I pondered all sorts of fucked up schemes. Ordering a bunch of coke and somehow implicating him, convincing one of my female friends to bang him, or just get him extraordinarily drunk and see what happened."
As it would go, I did none of the following. I said what up to him, cheers'd a beer maybe and watched him get on his hands and knees when he spilled a whiskey coke. I can't confirm that he was drunk but there was a drink in his hand, clearly not the look of a guy going through deep emotional distress. Moreso the look of a guy that quit the frat because he didn't like getting yelled at and was now happy to be at a house party with gdi's off campus.
See because that's what happened. This Martin guy grew up wealthy, was always bigger and better than everyone else and probably never got picked on until he was 22. When he did join the Miami Dolphins and a bunch of Seniors told his faggot ass to get on his fucking face and do push ups until he puked, he didn't know how to react.
Now more than ever "hazing" is in the national spot light. Sure once in a while a frat kills a pledge, or a black school band beats a Freshman trumpeter into a coma, but no one really cares...because the departed are nobodies. This is a NFL STAR, BULLYING IS A BIG DEAL. Richie Incognito is just a guy that was following a culture of hazing the pledges, and this one couldn't handle it. And now because we live in a reactionary society, Greek life as we know it will probably end in the next 20 years. No more hazing in the military, no more hazing in secret societies or any organization and the PUSSIFICATION of AMERICA is COMPLETE!
Unless...
I travel back in time and convince Freshman John Martin to join a fraternity. Yes, it will suck John, but think about the white girls you get to fuck by being an athlete. If you join a frat you can quadruple that, and it will be all sorority girls, you can run nightly trains! Then when you show up to training camp and old Richie gives you some lip, you tell him to "eat a gaggle of dicks you fucking hick" and this whole devolution of our society is avoided.
Impact: Greek Systems thrive for another 1000 years, churning out the leaders of the world, despite some push ups and a little light water boarding. Leaders that otherwise would have grown up to be huge wimps and lead us into silly wars, leading to the destruction of life as we know it.
3. Place: Miami, FL Time: November 27, 2007.
Obviously one would want to use the power to save so many single people, but remember there are drastic consequences every time you go back, it affects the future that you presently live in. Remember the Butterfly Effect? Anyway, this was a tough one. Part of me wants to get back to Vegas and tell 2pac that maybe he should skip the fight, or invest in a bulletrproof car. But honestly, he would have probably just gotten hit a week later, it wasn't like that was the first time he had been shot at multiple times.
No, if I'm going to limit the celebrity saving to one, it goes to Sean Taylor, the greatest that never was. This guy would have probably gone on to be the greatest NFL safety of all time, but some cunt shot him in the leg whilst trying to rob him. Shot him in the leg because he specifically wanted to NOT kill him, but start the large man with a machete from slicing him in half. YES, in lieu of a gun in the bedroom, Sean Taylor kept a 28 inch SWORD under his bed to stave off intruders. But unfortunately for Sean, the thigh contains some pretty heavy duty arteries.
Sean was however not one to shy away from the party though. In his brief career, he managed to get a dui and an aggrevated assault charge. I'm thinking on the night of the 27th I convince him to get a table at the Fontainebleau and we party together until 7 in the morning.
Impact: Sean Taylor goes on to have the best defensive career of all time. The Redskins are so good that Native Americans stop bitching about the racist connotation and embrace the nick name. The alternative to this dream scenario was that I secretly wrap Sean's thighs in kevlar and he weathers the bullet and then slices the assailant in half with the machete. He would then surpass Ray Lewis as best NFL player to ever murder someone with a knife.
2. Place: Washington DC Time: September 1, 2011
After the wedding last Saturday (which I did not get laid at by the way almost everyone had a date, and I kept forgetting the names of the girls I didn't already know. The quickest way to shoot yourself in the foot is to forget a girls name. Whatever, when the fireballs in the system, ain't no tellin. I did get Steak n Shake at 4 in the morning, and that's all that really matters) I spent 8 hours at a b dubbs next door to the Bloomington, IL airport. I got really drunk and then watched the Colts get ass raped by the Rams.
In my drunken stupor I bought a thing of beef jerky and a Rockstar which I intended to smash right before I got on the plane so I could sober up enough to read some more of The Book Thief. Then I got to security and I was taken to some terrorist room for additional screening. They tested me for bomb residue, gunpowder, all the usual terrorist shit. I'm thinking, what the fuck, am I really that drunk that they thought this all necessary. Then my immediate thought goes to drugs. Fuck, this is the bag I took to Vegas, what could possibly be in there.
But you know what prompted all this shit? It wasn't even the Ambian I had in my bag, it was that fucking Rockstar because REMEMBER? No liquids.
Which is fucking retarded anyway, does the FAA think I am going to smuggle on a vat of acid and poor it on the flight attendant's face in order to highjack the plane? They probably just used national tragedy as an excuse to make people buy the plane's 7 dollar beers. (This can be avoided by filling your bag with the little shot bottles fyi)
But I digress. They threw out my Rockstar and out of principal I refused to buy another, so I got shit faced at the airport bar and slept all the way back to LA...which was fine I guess.
But America should be the land of the free. I should be able to take a pregnant ferret on my shitty Spirit Airlines flights and no one should be able to say a god damn thing.
Actually scratch that last thought from the record, anyone that isn't skinny and silent on aircrafts I want to fucking murder. Babies, I will shake you. Fat people? Get off my plane and into the gym. Strangers that talk? I'M WATCHING PITCH PERFECT ON MY iPAD, PLEASE FUCK OFF.
But I should be able to quietly drink my Rockstar.
And I would have been able to until a couple jack asses crashed some planes into the World Trade Center and took several thousand people out with them.
Dicks.
And if you watch documentaries about the events leading up to it, it sounds like it was maybe kinda sorta preventable, but a few things slipped through the cracks because people aren't perfect.
I fuck up at work all the time, but if I screw up, an actor doesn't get the newest copy of the script. If those people in Washington screw up? Terrorism.
So what could I do to prevent 9/11? Run into the Pentagon screaming? Nein. Wouldn't work, I'd be thrown in the pre 9/11 version of Guantanomo and never be heard from again. (Y'all watch that 60 minutes? Fucked up shit)
So I have to prevent the attack without telling anyone there would be an attack. Basically I have to ensure that everyone does their job perfectly, with no potential for fuck up.
You know who NEVER fucks up? People on Adderall.
In the early ages of these amphetamine salts that have become so famous and seemingly readily available, they were only intended for children with severe hyperactivity problems. But eventually they became to take over the mainstream. College kids adopted it, ibankers subbed prescription drugs for cocaine, and now I'm sure almost anyone in a high stress, high importance job gets through the day with the help of amphetamines.
If I could have flooded capital hill with 2 million miligrams of orange goodness, 9/11 would never have happened and you would have to pick your girlfriend up at her gate instead of waiting in the car outside the airport. (I stole that joke from Daniel Tosh)
Impact: The Hurt Locker never gets made, Avatar wins Best Picture spawning a new Fern Gully environmentally conscious sub genre of film and John Kerry probably would've become president with no war on terror for Bush to run. (This is a negative fringe effect, I fucking love W)
1. Place: Los Angeles, CA Time: Pilot Season 2007
My college career was pretty great but after Sophomore year I was kind of in a rut. People were doing cool shit and I was stuck in Indianapolis interning at an insurance company, using my shitty fake ID to go to the Broad Ripple Tavern every night. I filled that summer by driving down to Bloomington every weekend and getting drunk with the Tri Delts at Frat West (The White House) It was a marvelous summer. We became great friends, got boats all the time, and logged several thousand hours at Kilroy's.
In fact I probably thought I was as happy as I could possibly be doing this. However, 2000 miles away, TBS had given a series order to the most obscure guy from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour...well maybe 2nd most. There was Larry the Cable Guy, Foxworthy and then the other 2.
Being 19, I could have spent the summer in LA and maybe through some miracle I could have landed a job as a PA on this pilot. (It's very fucking hard to get a job on a tv show without a connection, but remember I have the ability to travel through time, I can just show up and try every day until it works)
Working in the production office I would have eventually met one of the actors, Jen, she would introduce herself as. She being 17 and by no means being a star, wouldn't have any trouble hanging out with a PA. She would also be new to town and we would kind of spend the summer exploring Los Angeles together. Time would come to go back to school but I would decide to stick around because I had recently been promoted to staff writer. (Remember I could travel to like 2010 and just steal the Modern Family pilot and turn it into this showrunner and he would think it was the greatest writing sample ever, I might be selling myself short at JUST staff writer) So I work on this show for like 3 years and start dating this no name actress and become a somewhat well known writer myself.
I would never know have the memories of Shingles or Europe or being the most socially relevant person in a city of 80,000 people...but I would have my girlfriend Jen and we would go on Saturday hikes through Runyan canyon and buy a boat in Marina Del Rey.
Impact: After the cancellation of the Bill Engvall Show she would get cast in an obscure Indie which would lead to an Oscar nomination. Afterward she would land the role of Katniss Everdeen. So yes, I would use my time travel ability to marry Jennifer Lawrence. We would be the craziest Hollywood power couple since whoever the last guy to dump Taylor Swift was.
But wait...
So If I could travel through time we would live in a pre 9-11 utopia where Jonathan Martin wasn't a pussy, nerds got laid, Sean Taylor was still wrecking fools and I was banging J Law? That sounds pretty great, but honestly...I wouldn't trade any of it for what actually happened. I think that was supposed to be the takeaway of the movie. All of us have made mistakes, or perhaps have regrets about decisions we did or did not make. But this is the life we've got, and typically it's pretty amazing. (Well my life is slightly more amazing because I get to go to screenings on studio lots) And I've been dumped too, I've done awful things that I wish I could take back, but I can't. Life is about moving forward, and yes it's funny to pontificate about the shit that I would do if I had superpowers, but at the end of the day, would I want to miss out on one unique memory? One joke, one laugh, one day spent with a good friend. The answer has to be know, you move forward and try to improve upon your current situation while cherishing old memories. Shitty things will always happen in the world, but it's our job to find a way to make sure they don't happen again. And let's be honest...certain things are still in play for me!
I'm still young enough where I can find a certain amount of success in this town, I already run in circles with a few quasi famous folk. Hey, fucking Jessica Alba married an assistant, who says Jennifer Lawrence is above giving her number to a random guy she meets at a party. And when she does, best believe she will be getting blown the FUCK up with winking pikachus...if I have to program that adorable little thunder rodent myself.
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