My friend told me about his trip to the doctor this morning. "I was lusting over my doctor," he said, "and I gave him my phone number."
"Sounds sexy," I responded, "If it turns out you don't have AIDS, maybe he'll call you."
Dear Myka,My advice:
I'm starting a blog. I need to trick people into reading my blog. People seem to read your blog. As someone who has clearly tricked people into reading her blog, how would you suggest I trick people into reading mine?
First off, you are doing a great job already with the short sentences. People don't like to have their thoughts connected for them, so keep up the good work!
Now, as for your question, you could always do what I do and "trick" people into reading your blog by being interesting. Ill help you get started with some interesting topics:
- The very first time you got caught masturbating at school
- The very last time you saw your sister alive
- The best and worst day of your life ( I stole this one from City Slickers, but its still good)
- List the erogenous zones and their origins
This should be enough to initiate some traffic.
The next thing you should do is pick a family member and exploit their flaws for comedic value. Allow that family member to cut all ties with you and let them die first having never said goodbye. Feel guilty about it for the rest of your life.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: You there
Stranger: What do you want?
You: A decent paycheck. What do you want?
Stranger: Want to see a picture of a cute kitten?
You: Yeah. definitely.
You: Wow, that is cute. You knew exactly what I wanted.
Stranger: I did! I did!
Stranger has disconnected
Take that! I won and disconnected first. One more time to prove I understand how this works.You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!Stranger: cockYou: faceStranger: nose. i win. rolfYou: when is the last time you took a dump?Stranger: 6 hrs agoStranger: twas vwey plesentYou: niceYou have disconnected.
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Are you here for kittens or fuckin?
Stranger: Kittens :)
Stranger: Awwwee. That is cute!
You: I win again!
You have disconnected
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!You: why did my last person disconnect form me?Stranger: because they hate youStranger: you smell funnyStranger: you have a disgusting personalityYou have disconnected.
I'm writing you with my latest career quandary. Lately I've been feeling the urge to live like a true pauper and pursue a career in comedy, but my mom wants me to do something meaningless like going to law or med school. I'd rather go play in an EZ Bake Oven!
What's a girl to do?
(not to be confused with Anne Frank)
You should listen to your mom and cut out the bullshit. There is already too much unfunny clogging up the comedy circuit. I can tell you how your experience will go down exactly. You'll ride the temporary thrill of slumming the pauper lifestyle, making opaque observations about morning-after sex and stealing drink tickets. Eventually you will become bored begging to perform for German tourists and taking drugs from strangers, and will hop on the first meaningless doctor or lawyer who can tolerate the annoying screech you have become, marry him, and brag to your children about how you once subversively mocked American Idol while open mic-ing it in a basement below an Italian Restaurant.
* Do not enslave
*I never saw "Memento"
"Bathrooms are for customers only," he said to me. "Are you a customer?"Dick.
"Oh. ok," I said, "I'm a customer."
"That's impossible," he said, "we don't have any customers today, we're closed."
Homeless Person: Are you staring at my bad eye?That is why I've created a new reality show. You take nine homeless people and you put them in a house. And then you let them live there. No crew, no cameras, just a place to live. I call it "Homeless House."
Me: No, I'm staring at your good eye.
I wrote a few posts back about living with an orthodox Jew. Here is an old diary entry I found that can illuminate his character in more detail:
(Originally written 4/22/06)
Oh. My. God. My creepy roommate. His name is Jerry. He is a balding, pudgy, sworn to dorkdom, totally in love with me, super Jew. He stares at my breasts unapologetically when he talks to me.
Jerry teaches physics at NYU, those poor students. I had a biology teacher in high school, Mr. Spaulding, who Sequester girls in his back office for constructive criticism while massaging their hand and staring at their tits. I actually had a couple teachers like that, but Mr. Spaulding was the only one that got caught. One day he didn't show up to school and never came back. I came to learn that he tried to molest his adopted daughter and she bit his thumb off in self defense. Could Jerry become this guy?
Jerry told me he was going out of town for the night, a big bachelor party in Atlantic City. He poeticised about eating steaks, which lead to bragging about how he was a professional chef in the spare time he found when he was not professing or researching. Stop trying to impress me with your hobbies, it won't make me sleep with you.
He offered me a massage (for my back, not my hand like Mr. Spaulding did, but still), and, right or wrong, I never turn down a massage. Wrong. He wasn't missing any thumbs, but it still violated my soul all the way down to its dark dead core. I will turn the massage down next time.
Later that night I invited friends over so that we could rummage through his room to see what incriminating shit we could find. I hadn't been in there, just smelled it from the outside.
I expected it to take a while searching in his room to find something disgusting, but I found something in the first five seconds. Right in front of his couch, next to the lotion and tissues (ew), was a 2 liter bottle of Coke. Only. The Coke didn't look like coke. It looked like piss. I looked closely but could not be certain. Maybe a bit too orangey. And was there some foam on top? Is piss foamy?
I had to be sure. My best friend (thanks to that moment), Jaquelyn, volunteered to open the bottle and smell. Me and my uber-gay Broadway boyfriend, Bradly, shrieked and gagged wihle she put her nose right in there and took a whiff. And then another whiff. She held her nose in it for a while.
Well? She said she couldn't tell. We needed a second opinion. I ran out to the kitchen to barf, but, of course, I couldn't. Bradly leaned down to smell the fluid, and the second he got his nose near the opening of the bottle he jumped away and screamed "It is! It is!"
Jerry keeps a 2-liter bottle of piss in his room. Wow. I want to think it is because it is such a pain in the ass to go to the bathroom in the hallway, but man. Piss in the shower like a decent person. Don't live a life where you return after a long weekend to a bottle of your own waste.
Also in Jerry's room were about thirty ballroom dancing trophies.
Subject Line: Phone etcMy father, ladies and gentleman. He is 57 years old (47 on Myspace), and he logs onto a dead social networking site to befriend strippers he has met while out "clubbin,'" and to ask me serious questions about my life in text abbreviations. This is what I wrote back...
Body: How r u? Your phone's dead. Did u get evicted? Where r u living?
Subject Line: Evthang Kewl
Body: I H8 evikshun. Sold my phone 4 drugs LOL. Livng on street with crakt out homeless man etc. TTYL!It reminds me of the time my sister texted me to tell me about my grandfather.
From Heather: Grandpa died. Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld.
Bindi Irwin: Hi. I’m Bindi Irwin, and I’m on the Morning Show because my daddy was killed by a stingray on TV
TV Host 1: Oh, yes, I remember that video. Horrible. It just goes right through him.
TV Host 2: Who could forget? They made a costume of him for Halloween, my husband wore it. It had a stingray coming straight trough his heart.
Bindi Irwin: I wore that costume as well.
(After extensively researching this issue on the net, I imagined that if a cat could speak up for its own rights it would go something like this.)