10,000 Hours from Success or The Six Month Goal

play doh boy has decided that we need six month goals:

this is terrifying because it makes me realize (or brings to the forefront of my mind, i kinda already knew...) that i have no ambition. i really don't care about bettering myself, and this has become even more true now that malcom gladwell:

has turned me onto the fact that i can never be truly successful at anything unless i invest 10,000 hours at it. and even then, i also have to be a genius. a genius, i tell you! this is very discouraging news, as i get bored easily, and i thought the version of trivial pursuit that we owned was the genius V version, which is why it was so hard:

so, yeah...ahem.

anyway, i realize that the point of a goal is to accomplish something that i've been looking to accomplish. but, really, i can't think of anything. and i thought pdb would forget about the whole goal thing and go back to drinking too much and taking cabs when he could easily take the subway, but no. instead, he's forcing everyone who was involved in last year's march madness to now take part in this year's six month hell. 

so, you think of something for me, mkay? great. you let me know what you come up with. better yet, just tell matthew. and then do it for me. 

That Man was Dead! or A Conversation with Barret

barret: that man was dead!

me: yeah, i know

barret: how'd you know?

me: because i saw him hunched over in the same position on my way to dinner, with three police officers hanging out near him. they were making small talk about switching shifts with someone.

barret: well, the guy with the cane told me.

me: did he know him?

barret: he said that he used to hang out under the bridge all day drinking. i asked him what he died of, and he said, he spent all day hanging out under the bridge drinking.

me: it's so depressing, isn't it? i mean, one minute you're alive, and then it's all gone. you're left on a bench--

barret: please! don't ruin my first dead guy for me! stop saying stuff!

me: sorry. i'll see you tomorrow. love you.

barret: love.

Get By with a Little Help or Our Advice to You....

advice column, as defined by wikipedia.com:

An advice column is a column at a magazine or newspaper written by an advice columnist (colloquially known as an agony aunt, or agony uncle if the columnist is a male). The image presented was originally of an older woman providing comforting advice and maternal wisdom, hence the name "aunt".

An advice columnist answers readers' queries on personal problems, in particular giving advice about sexual problems. In many cases, the queries, as well as the answers, have been created in the office, and the agony aunt is actually a team of writers. Marjorie Proops's name appeared (with photo) long after she retired. The nominal writer may be a pseudonym, or in effect a brand name; the accompanying picture may bear little resemblance to the actual author.

Dear Matt and Erin,

My roomates have forbid me from getting a cat. How do i work around them to make my dream of becoming a cat lady a reality?

Dearest Cat Lady-

Dont' be a crazy cat lady. It starts with 1 cat then it continues to multiply until you've become that Crazy Cat Lady down the street that no longer notices the stench of cat piss all over her. Yeah it's best not to venture down that road.

-M

Dear Cat Lady,

I disagree with Matt. You already are crazy. Nobody likes apartments that smell like cat pee. I suggest that you move out of your apartment, move into a box and acquire 15 felines STAT. Then everyone will know you for who you really are. CRAZY.

-E

Dear Matt and Erin,

Hello there, long time reader, first time looking for advice. Me and my husband have a 14 year old daughter Catherine. We live on a farm in Texas with many animals and since Catherine is an only child she loves all of them very much. This is especially true with one of our horses Jeremy. She spends a lot of time in the stables even when all the chores have been completed. Sometimes she falls asleep from working so hard and we find her there the next morning! Anyway, we would like her to make some real friends without taking away her pets and animals. They've been such a source of happiness for her.

Betsy, Dallas

Dearest Betsy in Dallas-

Well first thing, Dallas? Really? Lame. Are you wearing a cowboy hat right now? Yeah, I thought so. Now, I think the best way for you and your child to move past the animals needs to be something monumental. What do I mean? I mean you just need to make one clear and final gesture that being creepy and hanging out in barns is not ok. Thoughts? I have 2 words for you: Glue Factory

-M.

Dear Betsy,

Hm...my partner in advice makes a good point. Dallas? Anyway, all of this talk of horses and a young girl lighting up a cigarette after being out in the barn all night makes me wonder, would your daughter happen to be named for Catherine the Great? Because here's the deal, there is such thing as too MUCH love for a girl, if you no what i mean....no? Fine. Just buy the girl a vibrator and get on with life. I want some m&ms.

-E

Dear Erin and Matt,

i'm young, single and living in the BIG city. I'm interested in dating but can't look/talk/touch people that I'm really interested in. Do you have any suggestions for how I can a) get over that and b) snag a hot date?

Dear Young and Single,

First, I find that the biggest inhibitor when it comes to meeting people is common sense. Maybe you are self-conscious because you are ugly. Or maybe you are really good at reading people's expressions and you know that they find you to be--to put it delicately--awful, overbearing, and

unintelligent. So, you don't approach people you might have a sexual interest in because you can tell that you will be rejected by them. never you worry, gentle reader! I have a solution: alcohol. might, mighty alcohol! Alcohol not only brings your inhibitions crashing down, but it also makes people who are not so attractive more attractive. So even if you don't get your claws into that hot guy you're eying, you can certainly sink them into his dowdy, sad best friend! Either way, the drink is the way to go. or drugs, but they have to be hard drugs. once you've brought someone home with you, they are practically your territory forever, so you can make them be your hot date at any time from there on out.

-E

Dear Young, Single

Ok let's do A first. You just get over it- it's that simple. Now making sure you snag a hot date becomes a bit more tricky. Well first what you need to do is buy a handkerchief and some nail polish remover. Now what you want to do is put a mask over your head (given that today is Halloween this won't be awkward) and go and hang outside the Ford Modeling Agency. Put some polish remover into the handkerchief and wait. Once you see a hottie put the 'hankie' over his mouth until he goes to 'sleep'. Now, he's yours! This is very easy. I do it all the time. The cops will understand- just tell them your situation and that all you wanted was to get laid. But if you don't feel comfortable doing this getting drunk is probably your next best bet- cause yeah, you're probably ugly.

-M

Dear Matt and Erin,

I have been married for several years now, but sometime over the last year I contracted a case of herpes. My wife doesn't show any signs and insists that I contracted it some other way. I know my wife is faithful, in fact, we've talked about it over the course of our marriage. Plus, it hasn't been brought up since she returned from a cruise with her college friends last Spring. What other ways could this have happened to me?

Thanks,

A bit sore in Atlanta

Dear Crabby (oh, I mean, a bit sore in Atlanta)

Have you ever seen the movie Overboard? Well I suggest you watch it, it's an epic blockbusterfrom 1987. Goldie Hawn does wonders. Enough about the best film in our generations history and onto your problem. Now I can understand how this might be puzzling for you. I awkwardly enough have had a little experience in this arena. I too once went on a cruise called the 'Celebrity Haaaay' cruise line and found a pool boy named Julio. He was a Brazilian man cleaning the pool in a green gstring. Anywho, I digress. What I'm basically trying to say is your wife is a whore and she slept most likely the pool boy. That or you go to a gym with a bunch of skanks and they don't wash the towels properly.

Glad I could help.

-M.

Dear Sore-y in Atlanta,

Have you ever considered that maybe you are the whore? I mean, I don't want to point fingers or anything, but since you know your wife is faithful, it's probably YOU who is cheating. This makes the most sense, and since you are probably exposing your dear, sweet wife to your infected genitals, you should consider lobbing off the offending unit so as not to put your wonderful, wonderful, faithful wife into harms way.

-E

Dear Matt and Erin,

Do you ever forget where your nose is on your face? I do. What can I do to remedy this situation?

Dear Nose-body-

Easy. Solution: http://www.orientaltrading.com/ui/browse/processRequest.do?demandPrefix=12&sku=14/329&mode=Searching&erec=10&D=clown+costume&cm_mmc=google-_-otc+sendtec+apparel-_-clown+costume-_-clown+wigs&Ntt=clown+costume&Ntk=all&Dx=mode%2bmatchallpartial&Ntx=mode%2bmatchallpartial&searchTerm=clown+costume&N=0&BP=8917&requestURI=processProductsCatalog&Source=Google&sd=Light-Up+Red+Nose

Dear Forgetful,

Becky, is that you? I mean, you were talking about not being able to find your nose yesterday, so I just thought....anyway, no. No one ever forgets where their nose is but you. Use a mirror. Then you will be able to see where to put your Zicam swabs. Unless you are a vampire and can't see your reflection, in which case, Zicam won't help you much anyway.

-E