Forty Winks.

When you’re a baby, it’s pretty simple. You don’t have much control over it. You’re constantly being bundled up and then placed in warm and cozy spots much of the time, so it’s natural that you would sleep a lot. You can’t walk around, talk, do much at all really, except poop, laugh and scream. So why not sleep most of the day away? But as you become able to do more, you tend to want to sleep less and less. In your early childhood, however, you’re forced into napping, daily. It's called naptime, and most of the time, it's boring and it sucks. You don’t really want to sleep, because being awake is much more interesting. You’re learning new things every second. That’s why you see kids passed out in awkward and uncomfortable looking positions all the time, even sometimes with a toy still in their hand. They just had to keep going until they absolutely couldn’t go anymore.

“Must… continue… playing… errrgh…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”

ZONK!

Even though, for the most part, the daily forced naps come to an end in your mid-childhood, forcing you to go to bed eventually becomes a form of punishment. I remember being sent to bed once when it was still sunny outside. How can I sleep when it’s so bright out? I want to play! Man, that sucked, but I’m sure I did something awful to deserve it. One of the main goals in your life as a child is to not have to go to bed, ever. Ultimately, every night is a challenge to try and stay up late, past your bedtime. You’re really not sure what goes on after you’ve gone to bed, but you assume that it must be really great. Probably it involves candy and all sorts of unsupervised mayhem. After all, your parents make it sound so edgy and dangerous, like things might start exploding at any moment. You’ll even try distracting them some nights, thinking that, maybe if they don’t see a clock, they’ll never know. But somehow, they always do. And then they make it sound like what you’re doing is upsetting the very balance of nature.

“What are you doing up! It’s past your bedtime! GO TO BED!”

Your bedtime is really one of the most important cool factors that you’ve got as a child to set you apart from the pack. It’s one of the key ingredients that can make you cooler than the other kids, whether or not you get to stay up later than them. Even the kid with the absolute coolest toys is a loser next to the kid that can stay up well past the ‘Cosby Show’.

“And then the white haired man came out and addressed the court. His name was Matlock, and only the chosen children could remain awake to see him appear at night.”

And so you’re constantly haggling with your parents over your bedtime. You go to school and conduct surveys and polls and bring the results back home to use as leverage.

“Well, Mother and Father, I have polled most of the students in my grade, and the results, I’m afraid, are quite shocking. Both Timothy Carcoozle and Finnegan Gentilly have stated that they have nine p.m. bedtimes, which puts my eight thirty p.m. well below the average. I mean, if you want to remain well below the average level of awesomeness amongst the parents in our general scholastic region, then, I guess we can just keep things the way that they are.”

Most likely you falsified some (or all) of your research and are nearly completely bluffing (in reality, ol’ Carcoozle goes to bed at eight p.m.). Your parents will call you on this bluff and threaten to call the Carcoozles to check Timothy’s bedtime. After some careful and long negotiations, your parents realize that it’s already 7:32 p.m., and thus past your bedtime, and yell at you to go to bed. So you go to bed that night, two minutes later than usual, victorious. Just wait until they hear about this tomorrow.

At some point, someone in the school yard becomes everyone’s hero, by claiming to have stayed up all night, one night so long ago. You’ve never heard of such a thing before. Staying up? All night? It sounds unbelievable! Suddenly you understand why you are alive. And that’s the ultimate achievement in childhood, really, to stay up so long that when the morning comes, you don’t have to get up, because you’re already up. You never went down. You’re still up. Constant up. And so you organize a sleepover with a friend, during which you plan to stay up all night. And truthfully, as that magical night progresses, it is likely you both slept through a whole chunk of it, but you both lie to yourselves and everyone else and say that you stayed up all night anyways. For weeks afterwards, you will tell stories about eating candy so late that it tasted even better and pretend to have understood what the hell was so funny about what Johnny Carson was saying. You’ve never felt so alive. You didn’t really do anything at all, but just staying up was good enough. Life was up, a natural high. Being up was better than being down. Being awake trumped being asleep every time.

So where did that magic go? Now everyone seems to have a different opinion about sleep. They want to sleep, or even worse, sometimes, they want to nap. People want to have not just one, but two bedtimes? You used to want zero bedtimes! Daytime sleep used to be a punishment. When did it become a reward? What a crock of poo. Much too often I hear people saying that they need a nap. Sometimes, they could really use a nap. How do you use a nap? One thing is certain, in order to use it and fulfill your need, first you have to take a nap. Doesn’t that just sound wrong? Taking a nap sounds like you’re breaking some kind of law, like you’re some kind of sleep thief. It’s as if somewhere there is a sleep guardian trying to protect his big reserve of naps that he normally would only keep for infants and cats. Because, you see, as children, naps are given to you.

“You’re a real grouchy wouchy boy, you need to have a nap. Here, have one. Now.”
“Where’s the baby?”
“He’s having a nap.”

But now, as a grown up, you have to sneak by and try and take one!

“Shhh! Keep it down will ya’? I’m trying to take a nap!”
“Oh, I didn’t realize, good luck. It’s usually easier to take one on the sofa.”
“That’s where I’m going, Bob Ross is on.”

For some people, a nap isn’t even good enough. Some people like to take it to the extreme. Some people require a POWERNAP. I guess this is a way for a lazy person to take a nap, without feeling like a lazy person. Sounds like you’re getting something done, doesn’t it? But, have you ever seen someone at their desk at work taking a powernap? They don’t look like they’re getting things done. They look like they just dropped dead on their desk. And how about how cruddy someone looks after a powernap? They certainly don’t look powerful. They look like they had the shit kicked out of them. Big crease on their face, hair messed up, breath smelling like ass, bags under the eyes which in turn are full of eye crusties, little bit of dried up drool on the cheek, and usually they look sort of confused… oh yeah, right, they’re just rarin’ to go, full power, blast off. What a bag of shit.

“You look tired, are you sure you’re ok?”
“Well, to be honest, I haven’t had a real night of sleep in a few days, but don’t worry, I just took a !!!!POWERNAP!!!!”

And then.

“Oh, in that case, doctor Pooterwhap, here’s your scalpel, let’s cut this bastard open.” or
“Oh, in that case, captain Zingfarb, let’s get this plane off the ground.” or
“Oh, in that case, Edward Scissorhands, go ahead and cut my hair.”

And then followed by.

“No problem. Let’s do this. But, wait, have you got any gum? I’ve got that nasty nap taste in my mouth.”

What makes sleep qualify as a nap anyways, and when should it just be considered as plain old sleep? Some think it’s the location of the sleep, like bed means sleep, sofa means nap. Others assume that it’s the length of the sleep, like short bursts of sleep are thus considered as naps. Some feel that it's the time of day, but what about those who work night shifts? I guess it could be a combination of all of those factors that turn sleep into a nap. Let’s just play it by ear. But what if one night you toss and turn a lot, and barely sleep at all? So you go to the sofa and try to doze off in front of the television? Could each of these short bursts be considered as naps?

“Geez Bill, you look like shit, did you sleep okay last night?”
“I didn’t sleep at all. I did take a series of naps though.”
“Oh, then get back to work, asshole.”

I guess sleep should be considered a nap if it occurs outside of your usual sleep schedule. But napping is for suckers. They never make you feel better, they make you feel like continuing your nap. Rather than confuse yourself and others around you, just go to sleep once per day, at your regular bedtime. If you are really tired from a long day of pretending to work and surfing the internet, and absolutely must go to sleep, then please commit to something, for once in your life, and just sleep all the way through to the following morning. Sometimes you may have stayed up way too late the night before, and your body is trying to act like strict parents, by telling your brain to punish you with daytime sleep.

“I can’t believe I stayed up so late past my bedtime when I told me not to. I barely made it to work on time. That’s it, go to my room! I’m going to bed without supper tonight!”

When you commit to an absurdly early bedtime at home, keep it safe, by putting up a reminder on the wall before you fall asleep stating that “YOU ARE JUST NAPPING”, because, in case you don’t sleep all the way through until morning, there really is nothing worse than waking up at eight at night and thinking that you’re going to be late for work, forgetting momentarily that you fell asleep mid-afternoon, and that it is still today, and not yet tomorrow morning. These dangers can also be easily avoided by simply not napping. I repeat that napping is for suckers.

Now, admittedly, sometimes naps are completely out of our control. Your body sentences you to random naps, no matter where you are currently located. These accidental naps don’t always happen in the home, or at opportune moments, unfortunately, and can become a great nuisance, or even great danger, if you don’t do your best to avoid them. Some examples of bad naps could be:

- Behind the wheel of a car
- Face down in a hot bowl of soup
- In the middle of a crosswalk
- Partway into a daredevil type of action stunt spectacular
- During intercourse
- Halfway into a cartwheel
- While skydiving (prior to pulling the ripcord)
- During a job interview
- While scuba diving or snorkelling
- In class or at work
- After eating a salami sandwich (now known as ‘Nightmare Sandwich’)
- While participating in the ‘Showcase Showdown’ (on ‘The Price is Right’)
- On a crowded bus (and then you fall over onto the asshole beside you)
- In an airplane bathroom (during a poop)
- During a competitive paintball tournament
- On an escalator
- While tandem kayaking through white water rapids
- Mid-sentence
- Atop a mechanical or living bull
- While bobbing for apples at a Halloween party (in costume)
- In a time machine
- After entering Thunderdome

Two men enter, one man leaves.

Bad smells, physical activity, bright lights, uncomfortable positions, self slaps in the face, fasting, loud music, caffeine, speed, big ol’ somersaults or lighting your hair on fire, are all decent ways of trying to stay awake when you feel yourself nodding off into an accidental nap. But, what I find works the best, is to focus on a time in your life when all you wanted to do was stay up late, and never go to sleep, before responsibility, before anything. Think of what being awake must have felt like then. Think about how every moment is a gift that you should cherish. Ninety-five percent of the time, this will cause you to gently drift off into a deep sleep even faster, but at least that way you fall asleep to happy thoughts. Did I mention that napping is for suckers?

That’s it. I could sure use a nap.

An Exceptional Perception of Contraception.

She looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes, hinting that she wanted to take this party to the bedroom. He raced behind her into the dimly lit room. Scented candles filled the air with a pot-pourri stench that just screamed “Erotic!” As they playfully tore off each others’ clothing and foreplay stumbled forward, she gently whispered in his ear.

“Do you have any… protection?”
“No, fuck no. I was hoping and assuming you did…”

Well, that sucks doesn’t it? There are about three mainstream methods of contraception that we are all mostly aware of, the classic trio of the pill, condoms and the ol’ pull out (adding ol' makes it seem more endearing, and less sketchy). In case somehow you weren’t aware, the pill is taken by the woman. She takes a little chewable vitamin candy everyday and then, poof, as if by magic, no babies. That’s totally how it works. It’s largely the most effective defense against unwanted baby production, but unfortunately won’t do a whole hell of a lot against STDs. Sorry, I almost forgot, it’s STIs now. What’s the deal with that? I guess I can understand the idea of changing it from disease to infection, for it to be more accurate. But infection just sounds less scary than disease, doesn’t it?

“You got any diseases?”
“Diseases? No. I might have an infection or two…”
“Oh well, that doesn't sound so bad. Drop your pants and close the door.”

We should be changing it to something really freaky and off-putting, instead of something more user friendly and accurate. Damn science. It should be something like SRGPs, for example.

“You got any diseases?”
“Diseases? No. But I do have some SEXUALLY RUINED GENITAL PROBLEMs.”
“Oh well, look at the time, I’ve already called a cab. Please leave, and put a bag over that thing.”

Your only real defense against SRGPs is the condom. Condoms also help to prevent surprise babies, maybe not as much as the magic of the pill (with all of its super nutrients), but still a whole lot better than nothing. So really, it’s good to equip yourself with some, for when the mood strikes and you happen to be with someone else looking to help you take advantage of that mood.

First things first, you have to go out and buy them. Shopping for condoms can be a lot of fun, if you allow it to be. But, you absolutely must go to a grocery store for condoms (one of those big mega marts with the pharmacy near the produce section). You can make much better combinations there to completely confuse and scare the cashiers. Walk up to the cash, throw down a box of twelve condoms, and then follow it up with a package of twelve frozen jumbo spicy Italian sausages. Toss in some doggie treats. Revel in the horror of the cashier. If you really want to take it up a notch, throw in a package of those shiny pointy party hats. Casually mention that you’re having a party. Seriously, don’t get caught up with all that embarrassment shit. Have fun with it. Let’s be honest, do you care what Ricky, or Cheyenne, or Wendy, or Scooter, or whatever their name is working the cash, thinks? No. And anyways, do you know what they’re probably thinking? “I wish I was having a fucking party too.” And you can take that F-Bomb as literally as you want to take it. I’ll leave it up to you, the reader, to decide.

Browsing at the varieties of condoms can be fun and exciting, but don’t get too lost or mixed up in the dizzying array of condom creations. Some variations make sense, like size. I get it, some dudes have cocktail wieners, and some are packing third legs. If you are outside of the average range, then you may feel free to get the necessary equipment to accommodate your plus or minus. Getting one that is either thicker or thinner is also perfectly acceptable and normal. Maybe you just don’t want to finish so quickly, or maybe you just want to be able to finish in the first place. Do what you got to do, get the one you need to get, get the job done, efficiently and safely, like a robot. All of these variations seem reasonable, whereas others do not. Like colour. Why would you need to be buying different colours? Are you inviting a bunch of guys to bed with you and your partner, and you intend on color coding all of your individual units? You could hand your partner a chart, or a legend, on the way into the orgy.

“Oh greenpenis, that’s so good, oh my God yes, go greenpenis go! euh… wait, let me check who you are, greenpenis … let’s see… Ah, greenpenis … you’re on page… page five… ok… hmmm… greenpenis is… Roddy! Oh Roddy, yes, you’re the best! According to this you’re a Capricorn? Interesting… OH MY! Yes! Yes! The Best! So far! Oh and purplepenis you’re up next, tag in.”

I haven’t really known any orgy goers, so I’m just going to assume that that’s how it goes down, and that that must be the only practical use for buying differently coloured condoms. That and making it look all fruity and colourful and scrumptious like a tall glass of juice. Well of course, except for glow-in-the-dark, which could have several other uses like helping your partner spot the male genitalia, turning out all of the lights and pretending that a little flying UFO is hovering around the room, or even getting it on in a blizzard and guiding the way like Rudolph (the red nosed reindeer, that is).

“On Prancer, on Venus, on Shoehorn, on Boner… won’t you guide my lay tonight, HeeYAH!”

Although, perhaps it’s more like when you see someone reading or studying in a book and they highlight the important passages with a fluorescent highlighter.

“Baby, you don’t need to worry about everything, here, I’ll just highlight the most important part” he gently says, as he wraps it up, with a bright neon glowing yellow rubber.

Taste is another variation to steer clear from, because, unless you plan on brewing a pot of deliciously poisonous tea with it, what’s the friggin’ point? Has your partner’s vagina stated a clear preference for Piña Colada or Coco-Banana over Classic Strawberry? Is it possible for the Vajoojee to be so finicky? Maybe if the tasty rubbers smelled like what they claim to taste like, you’d have some kind of reason to buy them, having a crotch area that smells like cherry pie, or whatever. But the last time I smell-checked, cherry pies don’t smell like a doctor’s rubber gloves greased up with old nasty semi-used-up cherry chapstick.

There are also a whole slew of physical varieties to never ever buy. For example there are studded condoms, which will allow your rod to have the feel and texture of raw chicken skin. Maybe your partner is into that. Maybe they were lonely one night, went to the fridge for something to try out, and were all out of phallic shaped vegetables, and they went straight for a chicken, or turkey, drumstick. If this is the case, then, by all means, get the studded condoms, but otherwise, don’t. Ever. Another example is rippled condoms, or ‘ribbed for her pleasure’, or whatever. I’m not sure how this variation was even conceived, but if you think that your partner has ever fantasized about being fingered by the Michelin Man, then by all means, ripple and rib it up like there ain’t no tomorrow. If not, then best to keep it smooth, fella’.

When it comes right down to it, anything that is going to alter the shape texture or even behaviour of your mr. happy is probably best avoided, unless you have a written and signed request for such abnormalities from your partner to be.

“Dearest Peter Schlongbarer,

I dreamed last night that you were a vibrating cyborg and that your package was shaped like a Siberian Tiger mixed with a Rhinoceros-Elephant-Turtle. Go find the right prophylactic to replicate this. Also, make a big frilly bow out of the reservoir tip, you know, so it will look all festive and shit. Remember, no glove, no love.

Sincerely,
Petunia Frumpdardell”

Otherwise, you really should go with the normal standard fare. And, name brands only, please. This is one product that you probably shouldn’t go for the knockoffs. It certainly wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Uncle Crotchety’s Oldtime Blastoff Wraps might not offer the same reliability as the more well known brands.

If neither the pill nor condoms are in your arsenal of precaution at launch time, you can always try the ol’ pull out method. Why, it’s as old as pregnancy itself (that seems like a strange coincidence doesn’t it?). Although it won’t help the battle against SRGPs, it could possibly mildly assist in the battle against accidental babies, not nearly as effectively as the previously mentioned methods of contraception, and not nearly as much as one would hope or expect. Contrary to what anyone may have told you one drunken night, or what you may have read on the interwikinetepedia, the ol’ pull out will not always prevent pregnancy. Doctors agree, mostly, I guess, that it's not very safe, probably unless they themselves are out of other options and assure their partner to be that: “It's safe, don't worry, I should know I’m a doctor."

But, if you truly think that pulling out is one hundred percent effective, then why not take it a step further and try leaving it in? Maybe you think that’s too dangerous, and could lead to all sorts of babies and double babies. But think about it, there are plenty of other different and exciting places that you can leave it in, while still remaining edgy and cool, and without having to worry about pregnancy, like a blender, or the butt. Why not leave it in the toaster, the freezer, or hell, leave it in a doorway as you slam that sucker closed? Try these only if you’re into unsafe really super sexy fun, of course.

The truth is, people, if you’re drunkenly confused, don’t feel comfortable together in the first place, fear that one of you might be harbouring some SRGPs, or are simply not all that confident in the ol’ pull out method to begin with and are out of other viable safety options, then maybe you should try leaving it in… your pants! For once!

That’s it. That’s a wrap. Safety first kids!

What's My Motivation?

Whether you’re training for something in particular, the doctor told you that you absolutely must exercise, or simply you just feel that you’ve gotten far too fat for your own good, you can’t avoid the fact that you will likely have to start hitting the ol’ gym. Motivation is not easy to come by, since the gym straight up sucks. Keeping up this motivation to go is a tremendous pain in the ass, and sometimes much harder work than the working out itself. If you’re serious about working out this time, then there are a few key points to remember, to try and sustain that motivation for as long as possible.

First of all, if it is the beginning of a New Year, then you should just skip January altogether. Most people make some kind of silly New Year’s resolution to start going to the gym like crazy. “This year is the year”, they think. That’s why you often see big crowds at the gym during the month of January. Everyone starts off strong, but by Valentine’s Day, they’re all sitting at home in their underwear eating chocolates out of a gift box and swallowing those spicy cinnamon hearts whole, with a tall glass of pop, and trying to remember when the last time they went to the gym was, reminiscing, if you will.

“I went three times last week” they claim, actually referring to a week in mid January.

Fuck all that noise. In January, suddenly everyone is walking around, working with those personal trainers, taking up space, and looking stupid. There are always at least a few people being shown how to exercise, and like, how to use a treadmill in case they were dropped into this century directly from the late eighteen hundreds.

“Oh, I think I get it now, you run in the opposite direction of the belt on the short fast moving walkway? I was trying to use my hands to stop the belt altogether, I assumed it was some sort of upper body strength and stamina test.”

It’s aggravating and everyone is so damn excited, for a little while, which could be motivating if they kept going, but most won’t. You don’t need to be around all those chipper perky eager beavers who will end up stopping completely in a few weeks anyways. It’s really the opposite of motivating once you start seeing them all dropping like flies. You’re better off never seeing them in the first place. You may have even been one of those keeners yourself at one point, we all have. We have all dropped out at some point, or not (maybe you’re one of those super fit peoples that self motivates super easily, and that us commoners gaze at in sheer amazement, if so, fuck you). We also all know that surviving the great late-January drop out period is difficult. To avoid all this, just skip the gym during the entire month. Instead do some at home workouts to keep active. Some examples could be:

- Diced Tomato Can Juggling
- Couch Cushion Fort Making
- Bathroom Tub Scrubbing
- Imaginary Friend Wrestling
- Drink Coaster Ultimate Frisbee
- Guitar Hero
- Somersaults

Basically, include any activity that can keep you busy and motivated for your eventual gym arrival. January is party month.

Once February hits or it’s currently some other month altogether, like Auguptember or something, then the coast is clear, and it’s time to get crackin’. Unless it’s Monday, of course, don’t start on Mondays. Mondays are bullshit. Never go to the gym on Mondays. It’s sort of like how in January, everyone thinks, “This year is the year!” Well, each week, on Mondays, a whole mess of people think, “This week is the week!” So forget Mondays, they are crowded, smelly, loud, and full of people aimlessly wandering around trying to decide which machine to try out, working out on one (half-assedly) for five minutes or less and then returning to their aimless wander. Not motivating, just plain annoying.

Ok, so it’s Octovember, it’s a Tuesday, and it’s time to rock and roll.

Except, don’t go right after work, it will be way too crowded. You’ll end up having to wait to get a machine or the weights that you need, and then eventually you’ll just think, “Well, screw this, my show’s on”, and bail. If you are able to go smack dab in the middle of the morning, this is the best time to go. You will be surrounded by a relatively small number of students, strippers and the unemployed (the SSU for short), and motivation will be at an all time high. Be sure to have breakfast at least one hour before going, and steer clear from eggs (increases the odds of treadmill egg farts), cereal (leads to milky acid reflux vomit), orange juice (causes horrible stomach burn sensations), or more than a single cup of coffee (you may end up surprising yourself while crunching your abs, see: Quelle Surprise!). If you’re not a member of the SSU, and you don’t work a nightshift of any kind, then the morning is out of the question. You can lie to yourself and say that you’ll go before work, but you won’t. You’ll do it once or twice, maybe, but you’ll end up skipping a few mornings in a row at one point, and then thinking “What’s the point again?” Three months and twenty pounds later, you’re right back where you started, face down in a pool of bacon grease at a breakfast buffet somewhere in rural Quebec.

The only other time that won’t be too crowded is in the evening, after supper time. Chances are motivation will be at a daily low for you to even step foot outside of the home, because you’ll be lethargic from an unhealthy supper and just too flat out lazy to pull yourself away from whatever gripping reality show is popular at that time. Probably something called ‘In Your Face Boyz: Real Adventures of Asshole Dudes and Them Rich Ladies’ or ‘Single Mama On the Prowl: Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places’ or ‘Celebrity Orgies XVII - The Gossip Girl Edition’ or ‘Fashion Explosion Bonanza Showdown’. So you need to either quit your job (and get a night job, see: Seasonal Affective Disorder) or destroy your television and eat better (only before the workout, afterwards you can eat anything) if you are actually serious about staying motivated and getting into shape... or have willpower, whichever.

Alright, so it’s the right month, the right weekday and the right hour for motivation, it is officially time to start feeling the burn.

There are several excuses that your brain will throw at you to prevent the actual journey to the gym from taking place, even when the conditions are perfect as I have just described. You must be well aware of your brain’s trickery, and call bullshit on any excuses that it dangles at you. Some examples could be:

- I really should stay home and clean.
- What if someone calls while I’m out?
- I didn’t eat too badly today, anyways.
- I’ll go tomorrow, for twice as long.
- I’ve got so much reading to catch up on.
- Didn’t I go yesterday?
- I could just not go, but tell people that I did, they won’t know.
- I haven’t really had any time to just sit and relax today. I need some ‘me’ time.
- I’ve got a headache.
- I’ll start fresh tomorrow / next week / next month / next year / next life.
- I did do a lot of walking today.
- I don’t want to run into any traffic.
- I really should do groceries. I mean, I can’t live without food after all.
- I don’t have any new music on my [enter popular Mp3 player name here].
- I think I might be getting sick, I should rest.
- Is that the doorbell? No? Oh, it sure sounded like it. I’ll stay here in case.
- But, I just showered!
- I agree that staring at the wall is fun.
- There’s a sidewalk sale at the mall? Well, that’s a once in a lifetime kind of thing.
- I shouldn’t have to go if I don’t want to go.
- I think I feel a poop coming.

Tell your brain to shut up, pack your bag and head out for that beautifully constructed and often poorly ventilated establishment known as the gym. By car, foot, bus, cab, boat, snowmobile, donkey or water ski, you made it. You’re at the gym. Now, your brain will assault you with its last line of anti-motivational defense. Its goal is to get you to return home, prior to working out. Some examples could be:

- What? I forgot my lock?
- Oh no! I brought the bad socks!
- It seems crowded.
- Did I lock the door at home?
- I’m pretty sure I left the oven on.
- Man, this is going to suck.
- It turns out, my [enter popular Mp3 player name here] has no batteries left.
- I should go home and check my email.
- I think I feel a poop coming.

Make up your mind by telling your mind to shut up again and that you are definitely staying. You’re here and you’re going inside. Once in, change quickly so that you don’t succumb to your brain’s aforementioned arsenal of excuses to leave before working out. You get into the workout area, you are ready to sweat. There are still millions of motivation killers lurking about (including your own mind), so you need to know what they are and try and avoid them.

Whether you wish to start with weights and then finish with cardio, or vice-versa, try and do more than ten minutes of cardiovascular exercise. Sometime after the ten minute mark, your brain will start throwing excuses at you yet again, in an attempt to make you quit early, before you have had a good workout. It’s really important to do more than just ten minutes, according to some doctors and shit, so arm yourself with willpower and swat away negative thoughts. Some examples could be:

- That’s enough already.
- I can still make it home for the tail end of prime time television
- If I stop now, then I could re-use these clothes for the next workout, I’m only mildly smelly.
- The restaurants are closing soon and I want hot dogs
- I can feel my phone ringing at home
- I came to the gym, who cares how long I stay? What’s important is that I came.
- Is that rain outside? I should check.
- I’m bored, so bored.
- I think I feel a poop coming.

Another important point to note is to stay far away from Captain Socialfaces. A Captain Socialface hangs out in the weight area in general. You will know a Captain Socialface by their irritatingly obnoxious voice, their tendency to walk around talking to people instead of doing anything, their annoying way of trying to inform people how to properly do a certain exercise, and their uncanny ability to groan and grunt during every weight set that they eventually do. A Captain Socialface often does a very tiny amount of reps with insanely heavy weights. They will emit anything from a mild grunt to a guttural howl in order to draw attention to themselves during their set, at the end of which they will drop their weights to the floor and make a thunderous noise that echoes through the entire gym, assuring that everyone is forced to look in that general direction. They will then rise from whatever sit, squat, lying or upside down position that they were in, and scan the area, to be sure that everyone is looking. Then they’ll walk around talking to people again, loud, obnoxious and vain. Nothing can drain motivation and increase the desire to leave faster than a Captain Socialface.

What is this need for grunting? At no point in time does any human being need to make a noise like this. They are showboating, they are communicating with the outside world, trying to say, “Check me out, I’m fucking huge, I’m all strong'n'shit, I’m awesome”. The proof that there is never an actual need to grunt is pretty simple to find. If you are completely by yourself, lying around at home, you would never make any grunting noises, or any sound at all for that matter, no matter what activity you are in the process of undertaking. Toe stubbing, pooping, self-gratification, all pass by with little more than a simple exhale of the nostrils and a casual blink of the eyes. Sometimes you may cough aloud, if you choke on water or saliva. Some people claim to laugh out loud when alone, but that’s just nuts. Equally crazy is having the occasional self conversation, but we all do this, even though we know it’s certifiable. I like to talk to myself in a British accent. It makes me feel more regal. But there is never any uncontrollable grunting, no matter how backed up you are or how much pain you are in, because grunting is communication, and communication is social, and socializing takes at least two. In short, if you are one of the local Captain Socialfaces at your gym, then you must quit the gym immediately and go get some help.

Stinky sweaty smelly people (Smellies) may also hinder your motivation, so be very careful when picking out a workout machine not to pick a machine near any of these smellies. Each smelly has a different smelly radius, so the distance can fluctuate, but as a rule of thumb, if you can hear them breathing, then you're too close. Feel free to change machines mid workout, if in fact a smelly gets on a machine too close to yours. Never ever look a smelly in the eyes. -Special thanks to my wife for reminding me of the presence of Smellies, and their effect on one's motivation-

Joining any Aerobic, Spinning, Tae-Poo-ing, Hippie Yoga-ing, Douche Bagging, Basket Weaving or whatever classes that your gym offers could help increase your motivation, in that suddenly you have a rigid schedule to follow, and people expect you to show up to class. Be careful however, since, joining classes could also decrease your motivation, in that suddenly you have a rigid schedule to follow, and people expect you to show up to class.

Have a target in your mind, a goal to achieve, and focus on it as often as you can. This will help you stay pumped, especially once (if) you start to see yourself heading towards that end goal. Some examples could be:

- I should lose one million pounds.
- I need to make my wiener look bigger.
- I like being able to eat more, free of guilt!
- I’d hate to have to buy new clothes, yet again.
- I want to run a marathon, eventually.
- I feel exhausted when I put on my socks in the morning and that seems wrong to me.
- I’m currently sad and pathetic all the time, let’s fix that.
- I wish I needed less naps.
- I haven’t been thinking that "I think I feel a poop coming" as often as I would like to of late.

Starting your workout regimen with a friend, relative or significant other can often increase the overall motivation. You must be careful though, as sometimes you will assist each other in your laziness, and join forces to eat fried chicken, watch ‘Wheel of Jeopardy’, not exercise and be thoroughly and completely void of all motivation for working out.

“You’re not going? Well, fuck it, I’m not going either!”
Then they celebrated, with corn dogs, beer and their favorite episode of ‘Same Ol’ Shit’.

You can often motivate one another through the use of left handed compliments. This works even more effectively when it is with your significant other. Some examples could be:

- Nice shirt, you look less wide.
- Nice jeans, your butt looks smaller.
- Congratulations on actually stopping after two plates, piggy.
- You know you’re not so slim yourself, chunks.
- I’m surprised that you haven’t exploded yet.
- Oh yeah? Well, go to the gym fatso!
- I want a divorce.
- I’m keeping the dog.
- I think I feel a poop coming.

Once you complete an entire workout, it’s always good to reward yourself afterwards. This will keep you motivated for the next time. Reward yourself with burgers, pizza, ice cream, heavy cheesecakes, king-size chocolate bars or whole bags of your favorite kind of chip. Eat these junk food rewards while watching your favorite programs and sitting on your ass. You will feel a veritable surge of motivation in no time at all. These rewards may, however, further distance you from your goals, which can in turn, decrease motivation.

I guess the real key to sticking with it, is actually sticking to it. The more you go, the more the motivation to go will come naturally. Also, don’t expect overnight results. These things take time. You will see results, eventually. If you expect big changes in a short time frame, you will be utterly disappointed, and this disappointment will in turn cause you to lose even more motivation. I must admit though, overnight results would be much more motivating than having to wait like infinity years for results. Man, this is bullshit, it’s not fair. I quit.

That’s it. My brain was right, writing this was much better than going to the gym.

Stranger Danger.

Maybe it’s all the standing around. Maybe it’s that your mind is completely occupied. For whatever reason, browsing in stores often leads to photo finishes in the restrooms. Not the number one, but the sensational deuce. There is usually a period before you get the official knock at the back door, when you feel the need to relieve some internal pressure. Often times you will be browsing in a record store or film store of some kind and things start a-grumblin’ and a-shakin’. It’s at this point that you need to be confident and sure of your own body’s internal language and signals, to know if you can safely unclench a certain amount without risking the sanctity of your best pair of jeans, contaminating the overall atmospheric hygiene of those around you and ruining a floor.

I won’t discuss what transpires after a miscalculation, the calm yet quick retreat to a nearby restroom, the necessity of evidence disposal (down the toilet, in a dumpster or behind a bush), and then living with the shame and the guilt. What I will discuss is what transpires in the event that you correctly interpreted your body’s cues, and you safely unleash hell, without error in judgment.

The way in which you deal with passing gas in a public milieu is important, not only to retain your own image in the immediate public eye, but mostly to ensure the safety of all of those around you. You may take this lightly, or think that no one could or will get hurt. Worst case, people will be offended. And what do you care what a stranger thinks anyways? Well you’re wrong, and that’s how people get killed. Allow me to share a story that best describes the very real dangers of careless “anything goes” style of in-store public gas-passing.

Picture a young man, nineteen or twenty years old or whatever. Overweight and not particularly concerned about what anyone may think of him, he wanders aimlessly at a grocery store on a rainy fall afternoon, dressed in his finest jogging pants, four year old hoodie and colorful winter hat, complete with puffy pom-pom. He is shopping at a small midtown grocery store, the kind with very narrow aisles, and filling his hand-basket with essential items like frozen orange juice, Chef Boyardee, pepperoni sticks and frozen meat pies, “tourtière” to the natives. He eventually finds himself in the cereal aisle holding a box in each hand. He is weighing the pros and cons of each trying to decide which to procure.

Sure, Cinnamon Toast Crunch is sweet, but on the other hand Crispix stays crunchy in milk longer. Then again, he could go with Life, which actually still tastes good when it’s soggy and is sweet as well, as does Corn Bran, but that is less sweet. Hmmm… the decision is not an easy one, and he starts to factor in the prizes found inside, as well as the back-of-the-box games. Then, suddenly, Golden Grahams enter the contest, due to their goldenness.

All of this browsing is increasing the need for releasing. He quickly looks to the left, all clear. He quickly looks to the right, all clear. There is no one in the aisle but him. Let’r Rip! With a thunderous roar, he feels instant shame-free and guilt-free relief as he soothingly exhales in unison with his joyous gaseous explosion. The woman crouched directly behind him, however, with her head resting perfectly at ass level and mere inches away from the mouth of the beast, looking at various coffee products, seemed less relieved, far less joyous.

“Eeeehhhrrrghhaaaaaa…” she faintly groaned, shedding a single tear, likely due to the mixture of gas and horror. From the wind of the blow, or perhaps in an instinctive effort to distance herself from the source, she fell forward, head first into a large tin of Maxwell House coffee. A very distinct ping sound echoed through the aisle as her forehead dented the can. The young man felt this ping reverberate through his entire soul.

“What have I done?” he thought, as he dropped his basket to the floor, stepped over the woman and ran as fast as he could out of the store, unable to face his victim, or bother to try to explain to her that he had eaten many beans and wieners for lunch and convince her just had no control over it, which isn't true. He had control, he just did not properly scan the area. “Is she alive? Is she conscious? Will she be able to give my description to the police? Should I throw away my easily identified hat? Are there severe laws against what I just did? Is it considered as a form of public indecency?” All of these questions raced through his head as he stood in line for two-for-one pizza down the street, simultaneously contemplating if he wanted Hawaiian or All-Dressed.

Something changed in me, err… I mean him, something changed in him that day. Ok fiiiine, it was me. Something changed in me that day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my eating habits, not yet anyways, that came at a later time in my life. Nay, I decided that that was the last time that I would allow myself to bust ass without first being sure to examine my surroundings and devise a proper Flatulence Concealment Plan.

There are some pointers that I will give you, and that may come in handy someday, as well as some important rules to follow to ensure that no one is hurt, and that, as a bonus, you don’t become regarded as disgusting in your workplace, some other social structure, or by random strangers just hanging around the same place as you. Remember that these are very general guidelines, and may differ from city to city, location to location. They are intended to give you a rough idea of how to execute a safe and successful flatulence plan. When I say successful, I mean that no perfect stranger is forced to inhale your fumes. If you are specifically trying to get someone to breathe in your internal toxicity, likely as part of some variation of the Fart Game, then disregard all of this, as you are looking for a Flatulence Attack Plan, not a Flatulence Concealment Plan. Here we are talking about people you don't know, or barely know. The worst part about strangers’ gas is the unfamiliarity. The smell is so alien, not like anything you or your friends or family would make. Well, if we all change together, and follow these simple rules of engagement, none of us will have to smell strangers’ gas ever again. Isn’t that the kind of world that you would want to live in?

It is important to remember that when dealing with strangers or even minor acquaintances, the “you smelt it you dealt it” defense becomes null and void sometime around puberty. It is no longer the law. The thought process should now read more like the following:

“You smelled it, through simple logic you have deduced that I have definitely dealt it, and now I must retreat in shame as you look at me with fear and disgust in your eyes. I had cheesy scrambled eggs this morning, I’m sorry, fuck. I never meant to hurt you. Please don’t tell anyone of my disgustingness, and please don’t inform the security guards.”

Now, you must also realize that certain areas are entirely off limits. Whether fast food, sit-down style, or a combination of the two (like Pizza Hut), restaurants may not be used as resting places for your pockets of gas. Tooting in crowded areas with little to no movement and poor air circulation is also strictly prohibited. Some examples are indoor lineups, theaters, concerts, sporting events, public transportation (including airplanes), elevators or waiting rooms (doctor, dentist, DMV, wherever). If you absolutely must commit to a release, find the restroom and be discrete.

If you are in the workplace you must also retreat to a restroom every time. Crop-dusting is for chickenshits and nasty assholes, sometimes referred to as nastholes, in my head. Even from within your own cubicle, you must remember that the air travels quickly to the cubicles in your surroundings, and you should never engage in this type of dangerous chemical warfare. If you have your own closed door office, then it’s fine, so long as you have no upcoming meetings, don’t have frequent unsuspected pop-ins and have a candle handy and lit. But don’t let one go too close to the candle, or KABOOooOOM.

In the car, if you are alone, cutting the cheese is acceptable, but only if no one else is getting in for a while. Also, try and find a way to air it out if it still smells before leaving the car parked. Don’t lock it in and let it brew in there for the next driver who comes along. With one or more passengers, it is not advised to fart under any circumstances, even with open windows. Open windows never really help, and they usually only get opened too late in the game, after the smell discovery has been made, the blame has been placed and appetites have been destroyed. Also, never press the lighter thing.

Next, let’s move onto some more flatus-friendly indoor situations and locations. It’s always best to do your homework on the place before hand, since when the urge does strike, you won’t have much time to react. Wherever you may be, you must find the locations that have the least amount of traffic, and the most air circulation. Also be sure that the location has more than one decent exit (no dead ends and also you probably won’t want to stick around too long after you drop the bomb, just long enough that it makes its nest and doesn’t follow you out).

Grocery stores and mega super marts are easy. Don’t drop one in an aisle, ever, or you risk trapping the smell there, or worse hurting someone (as described in the lead-in story above). Unless you are looking to ambush someone, you’re better going into one of those sections that is more open, like a produce or bakery section, or a section with kitchen appliances and shit to ensure the least amount of potential victims of smell. There are also many ways out of there, so you can be sure to get out with the least amount of suspicion heading towards you, if you do end up with any innocent bysmellers. Use caution, as the world’s worst farts can cause fruits and vegetables to quickly rot, plants to dry out and die, baguettes to instantly become stale, plastic to boil and certain kitchen appliances to explode. Also, cutting the cheese near actual cheeses may cause them to spoil.

Don't fart in drugstores or pharmacies. The gasses tamper with the molecular make-up of the drugs and alter the effects and side-effects. They also turn all of the lipsticks and eye make-up brown.

Record stores, libraries or bookstores, movie stores, video game stores or clothes stores, are a bit more challenging. You have to know your place well, and realize which sections are most unpopular. Air circulation is never on your side in these stores, as they are usually quite cramped and claustrophobic. Similar to the aisles in a grocery store, you risk trapping someone in a smelly corner if you haven’t researched well enough. Sometimes you may not have had time to research, or worse yet, misfortune knocks while researching. In this case, here are some helpful hints.

The New Age section in music stores is a safe bet, no one ever browses there. You may end up looking lame for being there at all, but at least you won’t be labeled as gross. If it’s really busy, try the poster section, using the big book-like pages to fan the section out a bit.

At a library or bookstore, head towards the kids section. If any unfortunate souls happen to be around, it can easily be passed off as a child’s dreadful mistake in the pants. Simple, timeless.

For movie stores, head towards the Adult film section. Even if it is crowded, who are they to judge? And who knows? Maybe you will get them to leave and go look at proper movies. They may thank you in the end. You may still be labeled as a pervert initially by other onlookers, but once they see you have not picked up anything to buy or rent, they’ll forgive you and figure you’re just curious. Again, you will avoid the 'gross' label. If there is no Adult section, go with the kids cartoon section, applying the "library/bookstore kids poop their pantsalot" technique.

Video game stores are very tough, as they are crowded in almost every section. Try and head to the PC games, as that section is generally less crowded and there usually is at most only one or two people browsing the "online virtual live another second life other than your own as a flying dwarf dragon or someshit" games. And honestly, they won’t even notice.

Clothes stores are complicated. People travel frequently from section to section, and it’s tough to gauge where it would be safe to make a deposit. Do not under any circumstances think you can utilize the fitting rooms. You will trap the smell in, and when you open the door, it is a dead giveaway. It’s also like a punch in the face to any unfortunate bysmellers walking by. Aim for sections with heavy cotton clothes, such as sweatshirts, jogging pants or jeans, they tend to absorb a large amount of smell. Stay away from polyesters, wools and leathers, they enhance smell. If there is a sale section in the back of the store, with one of those circular racks, then tunnel your way through the clothes into the center of the rack and stay there for a while, and let the surrounding sale clothes act as filters to the outside world as you squeeze one or more out. Don't poot near mirrors, or you risk fogging them up. Never break wind near Windbreakers, the damage will be exponential.

You cannot ever fart inside of anything that can be referred to as a boutique, ever.

Finally, we move to the great outdoors. Now, you may be thinking that most outdoor locations would be open season locations for the flatulent. This is often true, so long as they are not overly crowded, and that there is a certain amount of movement. However, never forget that outdoor lineups, like those for rides at an amusement park, fall in the same category as those indoor lineups described above. The smell may linger for a lesser amount of time, but it will linger nonetheless. Another fun fact about the outdoors is that there is usually wind. The more wind there is, the less likely people are to notice when you break it. But, pay attention to the wind patterns, and be sure that no one is downwind at the time of the break. It is imperative that you remember to not squeakily deflate yourself near a barbecue or near a human smoker. It is a fire hazard. In a hot tub, pool, or sauna of any kind, mystery bubbles are prohibited.

The above rules and regulations pertain to public exposure, but sometimes even in the private sector, like your own home, you should apply some of the same general rules, specifically when you have random guest acquaintances over, especially when at the dinner table. Beware of your bottom’s proximity to guest faces, any food or open flames (like dinner candles or a fondue set). Pay attention to where you are sitting so that you don’t accidentally fart on someone’s sweatshirt or jacket. Finally, if you must retreat to the bathroom to let one rip, be sure that you run the faucet or perform a courtesy flush to hide any potential noise.

I suppose you could try holding it in, in any one of the described situations, but I’m pretty sure most doctors and scientists have proven that this is unhealthy and could cause permanent brain and intestinal damage, according to all sorts of journals that I’ve not read.

That’s it. Have fun, be careful, shop 'til you drop, and be sure to drop it like it’s hot.

WARNING:

The preceding text may contain some cheap and somewhat juvenile potty humour. Maybe this warning should have been at the beginning of the farticle. I apologize.

Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Darkness prevails as a buzzer sounds in the corner of your mind. You wake to find that the sound is all too real. You must find the source, and shut it down. It must be a mistake. It’s far too dark to be time to get up for work. The street lights appear to still be lit. In denial, you hit the snooze at least one more time than in your usual morning routine. Eventually, your brain processes the numbers on the digital monster and you can deny it no longer. It is time. You rise to start your day in the darkness. You skip breakfast since it is still too dark. Breakfast is supposed to be sunny, cheery and lit up. You decide to replace it with a light supper instead to brighten your dark morning. It looks like night time, so maybe it could just be supper time. After a chicken leg, a handful of french fries and a diet soda, you exit your home, flashlight in pocket, lantern in hand, and journey to your daily occupation.

The days are long, and riddled with hunger and acid reflux due to the consumption of improper morning nutrients. You regret not ingesting a simple muffin or toast, and a cold shiver passes through your body as you think about what you packed for lunch this morning, more chicken and fries. Through the office windows, you sense that there may be light outside at long last, but you don’t have time to investigate any further. You must return to your windowless environment, and continue pretending to work, whilst watching the minutes pass by at an impossibly slow pace and surfing the internet. Upon the eventual completion of your routine daily hours, your entire system is once again thrown for a spin as you step foot outside. It is dark again.

“How can this be? Perhaps the sun simply has just not risen yet. Surely I could not have spent all of the bright hours indoors... here. That would be, well, it would be not good.”

Later, as you eventually find your way back home, you dreadfully conclude that the sun is not about to rise. It definitely has already fallen. Network television can only divert your attention away from the bleak truth for a certain amount of time, as you eat reheated turkey out of a cereal bowl with your bare hands. You probably would go to the gym, or even for a brisk walk outside, but now, what’s the point? Anyways, you already went to the gym once this week. Or was that last week? Hmmm... The dark mornings and nights all seem to blend together. No matter, the sun is gone, and won’t come up again until a time when you won’t be around to see it anyways.

Should you decide to take action against this dark and dreary lifestyle, you must make some drastic changes in your life. After all, you can’t go on like this. It wouldn’t be fair. No, the answer is not going the gym, having productive hobbies or starting better dietary habits, stupid. You need to start devising a plan, a schedule wherein you can still get your eight hours of sleep, as well as your eight hours of work, and keep the maximum amount of the sunlit hours as your free time.

You must go to sleep at two in the morning, and wake up sometime between nine and ten, the golden morning hours during this dismal season. You will not rise and go to work. Instead, you will spend your sunshine well. Bask in the living room in your underwear and let the sunshine warm your body. Go outside, shop, eat, or even take a nap. Do everything that you always dream you could be doing when you are normally indoors during sunny sky time . Sometime before sundown, unfortunately, you must then head to work. Work until midnight and then return home for bed.

The schedule is perfectly balanced and maximizes at home sun time. But your main obstacle is to make your employer agree to it. Ask. If they say no, you must first try and convince them that you are in fact a Vampire, or whatever supernatural or alien type of being or entity is trendy, and that you need to spend the sunlit hours at home asleep in your coffin, cave or spaceship. Vampires do seem to be so popular these days, so give that one a whirl first. They are just so cool and shit, so I feel that they’ll totally agree to it, like, for sure.

If they don’t believe your sudden Vampirism, or whatever creature of the night you suggested, the second tactic is to make up a religion and say that these are the only work hours that comply with the decrees of your rare and special Sun God. Don’t take a name that sounds too goofy. Just create a fake religion with a name that sounds official and real like Radapopolism, Solar Molasses, Sunny Deezlhism, American Apparel or Scientology. Try to get a few other colleagues on board with your religion, to make it seem more legitimate. If you just tried the Vampirism argument, best to wait a week or so before trying your new religion argument out on them. You’d hate for them to catch on to your ruse.

If these genius ideas still don’t work, then just quit your job. You’ll definitely be happier getting a nightshift job somewhere than to have to spend all of your free time in the darkness. Some options are:

-Janitor
-Stripper
-Lady / Man of the Evening
-Private Detective, film noir style, not Ace Ventura style
-Something at a Hospital
-Writer
-Babysitter’s Club
-Unemployed

If you insist on keeping your current Vampire unfriendly job, then there are some techniques to employ to assist in combating misery during the year’s dark ages.

You should take at least three personal or sick days per week. Take longer lunch breaks when you actually do decide to go into work, and spend them entirely outside. Move your cubicle next to a window, or directly inside some executive’s cushy corner office. They won’t notice. They’re busy working. Decorate your cubicle with palm trees and pictures of the sun and the beach. Garnish every cup of coffee or glass of water you drink with paper drink umbrellas and always drink with a twisty straw. Keep Hawaiian shirts, board shorts and flip flops in your desk, and change into them every day. You must remember to bring them home occasionally to wash them. Most people don’t like stinky people. Put a space heater in your cubicle. If this makes you sweat too much, than I would advise against it, or at least advise you to bring the clothes home for a wash more frequently. Bring a boombox armed with reggae tapes and carry it with you at all times, even in meetings - especially in meetings. Tell people that you hope that they like jamming too. Every day, bring a container of sand, and dump it on your cubicle floor, slowly creating yourself a beach at the office. Be sure to leave a note for the cleaning crew ordering them not to vacuum up the sand. For your lunches, only eat spicy Mexican food. This will simulate warmer climates and sunshine inside your body and also help you to take sick days more honestly, by increasing your diarrhea frequency.

All of these techniques may lead to the unexpected and early termination of your employment. Don't worry. This in turn, will enable you to enjoy more sunlight time. If you start looking for work elsewhere, remember to job hunt in the dark night hours. The contacted employers will be gone for the day, allowing you to leave messages instead of talking directly to them, and you will definitely look like a real go-getter when they see that you called in the middle of the night. Mention your desired work hours, but wait until the interview to bring up your religion or Vampirism. If, however, you fail to snag a job that suits you and your desired schedule, and you eventually have become accustomed to being home during the day, then switch the focus of your job search to some of the options listed above.

If all else fails, move back in with your parents, and tell them it’s entirely their fault. They’ll love hearing that, and you can enjoy free food and sunshine. If this is not an option, then begin crashing on a friend or relative’s couch after your eventual eviction. Assure them that it’s just until you get back on your feet, sometime well after the spring equinox, of course.

In conclusion, Winter sucks the bag, and I hate the Winter Blues.

That’s it. Let the sunshine in.

All You Can Eat.

I couldn’t possibly cover everything that’s wrong with All-You-Can-Eat buffets, ever. But I’ll try to touch upon the most common issues.

Avoid places containing stereotyped Italian-style first names, like Frankie Pepperoni’s, Giuseppe Cannelloni’s or heaven forbid Tony Rigatoni’s. It’s damn expensive for what it ends up being: cheap chewy carbs. One thing you really don’t need is All-You-Can-Eat pasta stations. If you want all you can eat pasta, save yourself the money and go buy an econo-size bag of macaroni for eighty cents. Also, someone once told me that his uncle died from eating too much gnocchi, that heavy-ass potato pasta. Apparently it expanded in his stomach and he blew up. Can this really happen? I don’t know, but I don’t care to find out, especially not with greasy gnocchi out of one of those bedpans they serve the food in. Basically, whatever place you go to, steer clear of pasta.

Aim for the places with Chinese sounding names. They seem to do cheap food right, and the food is generally more acceptable. If it’s a Chinese buffet then the name will be something real epic and fun too, like Palace something or Dynasty something, or Jade Wong’s Mandarin Dynasty Palace, or whatever. Every trip to the buffet will feel like an exotic journey because of the over-the-top décor. Even though the food is generally acceptable, as I stated above, there usually isn’t anything very Chinese about it. Get a load of that Chinese sushi station. And let’s not forget about Chinese pizza. I also had some really awesome Chinese French fries once at a place called Decent Chow Empire of Jade Super Delicious. The Chinese Naan Bread, however, was nasty.

So you’ve picked a place and are now waiting to be seated. This is my next big issue with these restaurants. While you’re waiting to be seated, you should be allowed to take a plate and score your first round while you wait. This way you’re kept busy and you avoid that awkward moment when they first sit you down, when you’re not sure how long you should wait before you get back up and head towards the buffet. You know what I mean. They sit you down and you look at whoever you’re with for a second and there’s an awkward silence. This is especially bad if it’s a first date. In fact, avoid buffets completely until you’re married, or at least until you know it’s safe to fart in front of each other, otherwise it may be a long cramp filled night post-buffet.

“So… I guess we just get up and go?”
“Do we need to tell them we’re having the buffet?”
“How does this work?”
“Can I leave my purse here?”

Why are we all suddenly so stupid? We’ve been to these places before. Sometimes it’s even a restaurant we’ve already eaten at, and we still have an awkward lift-off. I’m guessing it’s because we’ve all experienced a time where the server actually asks:

“Will you be dining from the buffet tonight?”

And then we get confused and we question ourselves. We always say yes and get the buffet anyways. But you have to admit, you’re a little curious to know what kind of food isn’t already available in the buffet, what a weird menu that must be. Well, from then on, we always end up wondering if the server is going to ask us this time or not. And why is he asking us anyways? How often does anyone really go to Captain Chuck Fuck’s Bottomless Bucket of Eats to order a cheeseburger with two side dishes?

Usually you start your meal at the soup and salad station. You should be fine, just avoid the skin at the top of the soup and the brown veggies, and be careful not to take any of those shrimps with those legs still on them. This has happened to the best of us at one time or another. We head back to our table with a whole plate of shrimp.

“Hey guys, did you see that huge bowl of shrimp? Aw yeah, I love shrimp!”
“Dude, those are those weird ones with the legs and shit.”
“Gaaaah!?!?”

It takes five minutes to free just one little morsel of shrimp meat. What crappy payoff. It’s definitely not worth the effort, and you always feel you need to eat a bunch so you don’t look like food-waster guy.

Another station that confuses me is that meat station. Keep away. Aside from the fact that I’ve never really seen anyone eat anything off of those big wooden tables with the gigantic smoked miscellaneous meat rump loafs, it’s insulting. I think someone should tell these buffet owners that some “Hanzo The Razor” guy, with an apron and a giant hat that goes all the way up to the ceiling, cutting off a succulent slice of beef with his pitchfork and samurai sword, does not camouflage the hilarious truth that he is standing across from dozens of tins filled with room temperature saucy ribs, chicken balls and day-old onion rings.

“Oh thank you, that’s a perfect rare cut of prime rib roast; it looks so tender and juicy. Please lay it on top of my slice of pizza, and try not to let it touch the bacon and mini corn dogs that I garnished my vegetable lasagna and fish-sticks with.”

Just dish the meat out in tins like everything else. We know nothing is fresh, you’re not fooling anybody.

I won’t get into plate sizes or even plate arrangements, because everyone needs to find their own groove, and each buffet has a different level of plate capacity. Some people don’t like their smoked salmon to be covered in General Tao chicken, while others won’t eat it any other way. Some people want to make the least amount of trips possible, while others want to stack up the largest amount of empty plates, and try to burn some calories with the extra walking. These are all personal choices that should stay between you and your God.

I can’t cover all of the entrées available in these fine establishments either, since each place is different, but a good guideline is to stick to finger foods and stuff that you can recognize without having to read the labels. If it looks mysterious and intriguing, then a cheap buffet is probably not the best place to try it for the first time.

“Mexican-Australian Ratatouille Ginger Balls? Hmmm… oh gee, what the hell, why not?”

Big mistake.

So you’re feeling full now, as you’ve just had your eighth plate. You’re contemplating a ninth plate, but then thinking that maybe, just maybe, you should leave room for dessert – a common mistake.

Don’t bother with dessert. You must believe me when I say that there is definitely not always room for J-E-L-L-O, especially not the runny kind. Don’t fall into that trap. Also, don’t touch the fruit salad. Peaches should not have that kind of texture and you’ll end up debating whether what you just ate was a pear or an apple. You will however agree that, either way, it was gross. The cakes are generally very stale, very dry and somehow always either way too sweet, or completely tasteless. There are always several types of nasty mousses and puddings to not enjoy. The key one to stay far away from is the rice pudding which, as far as I know, shouldn’t taste like cold corn on the cob.

Now, you may be thinking, hey, what about ice cream, surely that’s not so bad. Ice cream would be fine if you could just find a regular flavor. But you won’t. Pink is not strawberry here in buffet land, it’s candy-bubblegum. Green isn’t mint or even pistachio, it ends up being some kind of sour apple. I took brown once expecting chocolate. Wrong. Caramel-Coffee-Caca. One time I took white. It must be vanilla. It wasn’t. To this day, I’m not sure what it was. It was some sort of coconut action, but I swear it had a just a hint of fake banana in it. I won’t even get into Rainbow sorbet.

You probably feel that these general guidelines won’t always suffice. Well, we could help improve everyone’s dining experience by agreeing to casually warn people on our way out about what to avoid. Everyone looks so happy on the way into a buffet, so full of hope, dreams and wonder. On the way out, everyone looks slow, depressed and fat. I’m not saying that you should completely burst their bubble and scare them or puke on them, but maybe, if you have time, write your overall thoughts on a napkin and hand it to someone on the way out. You’ll have done your part. Pay it forward.

“To Whom It May Concern,

Avoid the manicotti and the Jalapeño Poppers. Also those unlabeled little deep fried balls are not full of cheese like you would think or hope; they are full of tuna fish and taste like poop.

Sincerely,
Bloated Man Who Just Gave You This Napkin.”

Also, cut the server’s tip in half. After all, they’re only doing half the usual work, and if we all start doing it, I won’t look like such an asshole next time.

I have one final question. Your favorite selection at the buffet was probably the pizza. But, compared to any actual pizza restaurant, the pizza sucked. So why the hell did you come here instead of a pizza place? I think it’s because quantity beats quality every time.

That’s it. Bon Appétit.