All this blog Needs is a Buzz Phrase

Act Now and in 38000 easy payments (that’s less than a cost of a cup of coffee folks) these scrubbing bubbles with activate the activated charcoal along with these scientifically proven moisture pockets residing within the patented vortex wind funnel cleaning wand.

That sure got your attention Huh? Wow that was exciting! I could just picture myself wet-dry cleaning an elephant and even the elephant’s wrinkles would be squeaky clean. Finally! Heck knows even elephants deserve clean wrinkles.

Everywhere I look it seems there are MADMEN creating brilliantly annoying advertising campaign’s just lousy with buzz phrases. (Or is that lousy advertising with annoying buzz phrases??) Only in commercials do we find out that Bounty is the quicker picker upper (I would hate to see it be the slower, I will get that tomorrow, non-picker downer), Gerber’s baby food has Comfort Proteins, Zip lock bags have snap and fresh seal technology, Fresh Step Cat Litter has activated freshness molecules, and further learn that it only takes wearing a lab coat and a buzz phrase and voila! I can convince you that super-duper smart scientists worked around the clock (with no bathroom break mind you) to create this thigamabob that makes your life complete.

I have some burning questions: Is secret really strong enough for a man, but made for a woman? And will a man blow up into a bazillion little pieces if he wears it any way? Is Irish Spring made in Ireland? Are the thoughts of a dead turkey wrapped in Reynolds wrap protected against Alien thought invasion? Are Colgate cleaning molecules treated differently at the local bar as opposed to regular molecules? Are flavor pockets related to Flavor Flav? (yeeeeeeeee boy) and just what exactly is dry weave technology?

I am beginning to suspect the writers who used to create the techno-babble heard in a Star Trek episode now make up buzz phrases heard in commercials. Maybe if I employ the interlocking viral blog packets then its slightly possible fiber optic cyber freshness seal molecules will dry weave a nice cardigan sweater for me.

What happens if while copying and pasting I wind up eating the paste?

You name it chances are good I may have tried my hand at selling it. Only recently have I decided to do some online marketing. For me the internet, using technology, dabbling in HTML coding, creating squeeze pages, copying and pasting is a natural choice since I am very acquainted with technology in general and how to use it.

When approaching a new business I truly have no problem “un-learning what I have learned” (yes thank you very much YODA) and it only makes sense to me to mimic what other successful people are doing. My first online marketing venture was with Project Payday. Once I got past my initial skepticism (you will notice I refer to this a lot) I placing ads and copying and pasting my heart out.

Despite all the “Proven” words to say, copy, and paste I found myself feeling very robotic ( I am NOT a robot I swear!) and stiff. I am doing all the things I am being told to do, posting all the words I should be posting, but seriously? It just does NOT sound like me in any way.

Ask anyone who has ever had a “real” conversation with me. Chances are good I am joking, having fun, making goofy comments, and almost never sounding like the ads I was posting. So I decided to join as many “work at home” internet business groups on Facebook as I could and just started messaging people, getting to know them, and having a real conversation instead of just pitching my thing.

The takeaway here is to BE YOURSELF. Its something I learned during my 18 years of call center customer service/sales/telemarketing experience. Even when there was a “script” for me to read I understood it was my job to breath life into it and the only way I could do that was to be my fun loving happy self while doing so.

So when exactly do I get to pick out my “Old Man Outfit”??

I turned 50 last year, I am looking 51 dead in the eye in six more months. It has me worried. The reason why is based on trips to Walmart, any grocery store, the hardware store, The DMV, Doctors offices, and just pumping gas into my minivan. While I am at any location really there is a growing number of people growing old. A lot of these older people (older than me I am pointing out here) are men. The majority of them have somehow, in someway have decided to wear (with very slight variations) the same outfit. Its as if there is a store that caters to grumpiness, never ending stories of working on their car, garage, boat, cabinets, memories of war, and the last pork chop they ate. 

The outfits seem to consist of: jeans, coveralls, work pants (if you say dockers they will slap you for being a sissy), a dress shirt (normally plaid, printed in some manly fashion without looking to frilly), suspenders (seems to be a MUST HAVE item) a belt (I guess the suspenders are a back up just in case the belt goes out or visa-versa), and a hat. 

The hat seems to open to interpretation just as long it does not have fruit on top of  and is completely void of a bow or ribbon included. Baseball cap seems to be a nice popular choice just as long as you wear it like a real man and stop trying to look like a rap artist, or someone with a mental problem.  What is inscribed/written on the baseball hat seems to be important also. Letting people know your a war veteran and that you were Killing people in foreign lands while they were still nursing will get you some serious nursing home Cred. 

Bowlers, Pork Pie hats(Think Walter White from Breaking Bad), Fedora’s, and even Richard Petty style cowboy hats can be acceptable wear. If your stuck in traffic behind a slow moving vehicle chances are good the driver is a old man in a hat (or he left his hat at home).

What confuses me is 1. when exactly did these legions of old men decide to start wearing the same outfit? And 2. Now that I am getting older am I required to follow suit? When exactly do I start turning the garden hose on the neighbors kids?, Complain about the meatloaf at the local cafeteria?, start smelling like I poured a entire bottle of Old Spice on myself?, Have a handshake that feels like Solid Rock?, tell stories of the car I put back together with nothing more than a piece of wire and a can of WD40?, threaten to put my foot up someones wazoo?, smack people on the back of the head just for being a dumb ass? The questions never end.

Its always an honor to be nominated for an award trophy statue medallion on a Gold Chain that will collect dust

Award Season: The Grammy’s, the whammy’s, the double whammy’s, the slammy’s, the Oscars, the Fred’s, Benny’s, Tony’s, SAG awards, Saggy awards, Baggy Pants awards, people choice awards, people hated this awards, The Emmy’s, The kimmy’s, and world wide wrestling championship have a lot in common:

 

They like themselves a lot, they suck all the oxygen known to man, (and other intelligent beings)  insist you care about who was nominated, barrage you with who wore what, who flubbed their acceptance speech, who did what, what happened when, and take up precious TV channel space and time  where a reasonably not so old episode of Matlock could have been aired. I mean C’mon! How am I supposed to find out if indeed Matlock can successfully defend Mrs. Doubtfire against charges of stealing The First Baptist’s Church’s Pastor’s wifes hat?? 

All Red Carpets DO NOT lead somewhere wonderful. Miley, Bieber, Kanye,  Chris Brown, and who knows next will make certain of that. As if the Red Carpet was not already littered with the jagged metal and broken glass of Paparazzi, Fashion trolls, Talking heads, twitter ninja’s, Instagram Warriors,   and what ever manner of fresh hell can be found along the way.

Here’s an idea: How about we celebrate nurses, Firefighters, Police Officers, EMT personnel, Food Pantry volunteers, Child protective Service workers, Teachers, Humane society helpers, Soldiers, and real people who made real contributions to the world being a better place?? Such a celebration and award show would certainly be a billion times more worthy of our attention, TV time, twitter feeds, and media attention.

MOVIE QUOTE JUMBLE

Hollywood_Sign1

Come with me if you want to live because there is no business like show business. Because only in Hollywood you don’t need roads because where we are going there are NO roads. Take the Gun and leave the cannoli because even though there is no place like home there truly no place like the Movies.

Movies give us a needed escape from life so you better get busy living or get busy dying and Movies can make you feel alive and can help you deal with death even if Stormtroopers just Killed your Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. You may want the truth but you cant handle the truth, the truth is far too boring and the movie version is always much better. The Hills are alive with the sound of music only because those hills have those iconic HOLLYWOOD letters standing on them. 

Say: I am Sparticus! All you want, but you would have to show me the money!! Oh? No money? No worries because Hollywood is genuine proof that if you build it they will come. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I’m offering is the truth – nothing more.

So what you want Mary? Should I give you the moon? NO I give you Hollywood, movies, and an escape. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. So go see a movie dang it. Look, No body puts baby in a corner and your hard earned dollars can help Baby buy some hair straightener. Her hair dresser says I am mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore. Because with great power comes great responsibility and there is no greater responsibility than being in charge of those tight curls. 

Say what you want about the demise of the Hollywood Myth, all it needs is Bond, James Bond and he likes his martini’s shaken not stirred. All it takes to wake Hollywood up is  to give it a taste of Hanzo Steel. I didn’t say, sell me. I said, give me. Any movie nerd is obliged to assist you in the extermination of your vermin, Because your vermin, is a former student. And considering the student, I’d say you had a rather large obligation. 

So play it Sam, play that movie on the big screen. This is going to start of a beautiful friendship. I will be the movie geek with the Twizzlers and the chocolate covered raisins.

Give us a (awkward) hug

Hug Steve

Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

Is it me? Or is there a younger, hipper, less emotionally damaged generation who is hell bent on hugging? Now mind you, I am not stating for the record that I am against hugs. They are great!… but only from a select few people I actually would like to receive one from. The approved hug list pretty much revolves family and close friends. Even then there are exceptions to the rules I have put in place as to who exactly I will and wont hug. Complete strangers are not totally of the question (like say: Sofía Vergara can hug me anytime she wants) it just has to go through my very complicated application process.

Don’t even get me started on “group hugs”. UGH no thanks, I would much rather be bitten by a Vampire covered in leaches being half eaten by a zombie killer shark from another planet. Then there is the completely random, UN-announced, so not expected hug. Yes it has happened to me, and can I say? I am not so much of a fan. Fist bump? Heck yeah! (and make it explode on the way out) hand shake? Yes! (I welcome a firm hand shake) but hugging is just something completely personal, in my personal space, and needs approval. (I will send you a application form to fill out)

A friend, and Pastor of mine is a hugger. I learned real quick to be hugged with our without my permission. I love God, and I love you sir, but can I just give you a handshake? Or a high five? At this point I want to invent a hug proof vest. (unless you are Sofía Vergara)

Skip the guilt, pass the mash-potatoes please

It’s the same thing every year. To the point where I truly have a love-hate relationship with my television and the programming it gives me. My wife and I don’t have any children so I guess having both internet and TV is like having kids (in a way). One minute your so disappointed in them (BAD! TV & INTERNET! BAD!) that you swear your going to kick them permanently out of your home, and next thing you know they bring you (where I actually mean me in this case) kittens, puppies, science fiction, and absolutely no signs of Miley Ray Cyrus twerking while smoking pot.

Local news and the demented newscasters who appear on TV are the absolute worst. Anyone who has to look good on camera, be heavyhearted because of today’s fresh hell of tragedies, then in a blink of an eye brighten up with a story of a penguin who is using its body to shelter homeless seal pups who ‘s mommy and daddy died has to have some personality and mental issues.

Once again, right on time the demented newscasters start with the “eating with moderation”, holiday diet, turkey can kill you, why mash-potatoes are dangerous, cranberry’s are really terrorists, gravy causes cancer, dressing is really an alien ploy to take over your mind, please please let us find every reason in the world for you to feel guilty for actually enjoying a meal with your loved ones (if you can).

Let’s just say we skip the guilt, and pass the mash-potatoes please. Not everybody has a home, not everybody has family to be with, and some even have to spend thanksgiving in the hospital, in prison, in another country defending your freedom to watch football or 24 hours of “A Christmas Story”. Let’s just be thankful for what blessings we have and remember despite all the efforts your momma’s sweet potato pie may be making to clog your arteries that there is always someone who is going through something you could never imagine.

Thank God I’m a confused City Boy (who lives in the country)

Cattle

The Cows Think my minivan is sexy

I was born, raised, and lived most of my life in a major metropolitan area. City boy is a good term and I am not sure at this point whether its something I need to be apologetic about or not. All I know is because I have lived “Up North” most of my life. Have had only a little exposure to farms, cows, hay, pick-up trucks (never owned or operated one in my life), living “Down South”, or in the “country”.

My lovely bride and I recently moved to the Southern portion of our great nation within the last month. I was fully warned (and then some) by my sister of the culture shock I may possibly experience. The pace is slower (unless your driving then you better pick up the speed or get ran over) and so is the speech pattern of most folk (I feel that’s an appropriate term). People like to talk to you randomly, are actually friendly, out going and this freaks out most of us city people who are convinced they are up to something (I personally blame movies like “Children Of The Corn” for this phenomenon).

We have highways, freeways, and outer-belts in the city. They are highly congested with cars, car exhaust, painfully slow little old men in hats (with their left blinker on), slow little old women (with their right blinker on), speed demon morons, four wheel snow driving pin heads, plenty of head aches and Road rage. They have “highways” (only because of the comparison I use the term loosely) in the country. They are certainly not as congested, have a tendency to have more cows, farms, men (and women) in overall’s, and a lot less Star Bucks, CVS’s, Fast food places, gas stations, and Mega-Big box stores every five feet.

My drive to work is more scenic now. I have less cars, people, and urban blight to gaze upon and more of God’s beauty. The stuff that confuses me is when I am driving (what my city saturated mind would consider) down a “country” road and then find a speed bump. Don’t ask me why my obviously snooty britches mind would not expect country folk to want to protect their school age (or otherwise) children (or crazy uncle Ed.. Bless his heart) from being plowed over by (well.. a plow) a John Deer tractor or Pick up truck going a bazillion miles and hour. My sister also blew my mind by telling me they have a transport service that actually can be arranged for the elderly, or disabled. So again I find myself feeling pretty crappy that I obviously am assuming that sunshine just got pumped down here. Pardon me folk’s, I am truly am a cityiot.

The Macho Man Vs The Sensitive Circus Clown

macho_man_randy_savage

One of my favorite bloggers touched on what exactly makes a man.. well manly? I have always rejected the square peg meets round hole stereo types, and notions. Mostly because I am willing to openly admit I don’t meet most of the what I personally feel are stupid notions. Men are tough, men don’t cry, men like being sweaty and dirty, men eat coal and crap diamonds, men are hunters, men hate hugging, men don’t show their feelings, men love fast cars and loose women, men wear beards (with no real offense meant to the real cast) and look like the cast of Duck Dynasty. The completely ridiculous Macho Man Randy Savage list goes on and on. Give me a break!

My older brother I feel certainly fits the bill of what I personally term a “Mans man”. He hunts, he owns and operates guns, he wears a lot of camouflage, rides a motorcycle, is moody, broody, and is more prone to punch you in the face or give you a hearty fist bump rather than give you a hug (just think of the uber-male that you see portrayed in a beer commercial and you get the idea) . Me on the other hand, I am not any of that at all. I (big surprise here) am more prone to be the sensitive hugging joker creative artistic clown who loves pretty flowers, puppy’s, and is easily distracted by laser lights and shiny objects. I love to wear colorful clothes, make my own accessories (necklaces, wrist bands), I am sorta obsessive about my clothes and how they match, have dyed my hair several colors, and yes I am thoroughly heterosexual without question because lets just say there are certain parts of the female anatomy that just send me into outer space.

This is not to say that I don’t have my moments as a typical guy (or husband). Even after being married for 25 years and knowing my wife for 30, I still have to remind myself that she really doesn’t want me to “fix” her problems (per say) but really just wants me to listen. Good luck ladies, guys are built to be builders, fixers, and problem solvers and anytime there is a chance to use tools, or duct tape we loose ourselves like a golden retriever looses itself over a tennis ball.

I guess my point here is to NEVER allow anyone, anywhere, for any reason try to pigeon hole you, control you, and tell you that you don’t fit the description of a Man or Woman. I tend not to trust public opinion because I never cared to do something just because “everyone is doing it”. In-fact, if anything I have always reserved the right to make my own mind at my own pace about my own life with no apologies for doing so. If you don’t like me or the way I do things then that is your problem not mine.