Yet Another Broken Resolution
Cory Campbell
feb 26, 2006
So the New Year has come and past. In fact, we are just past the two month mark. With the New Year well on its way I've had plenty of time to wallow in the self pity of knowing I'm a loser. I had two resolutions going into the year of our lord 20-06 and two days in I was two resolutions down. The first of my two broken resolutions was to not make fun of other people as much as I had been. Needless to say this resolution was broken within the first five minutes of the New Year. But what can you expect? I'm not perfect. Get off my back! The second on my list of New Years' hopes was, just like everyone ells on the planet, to "get fit." You know, just get ripped or something. But, just like everyone ells on the planet, I failed. It wasn't until the next morning when I found myself eating a healthy portion of chocolate chip pancakes from V I (that's village inn for the uninformed) that I came to the staunch realization that I was not going to put the time or effort into getting in shape this year, so why even try just to let myself down. My resolutions were broken and so was I.
As each year passes it seems that I go through the same thing. Year after long, uneventful year. So here is my suggestion for avoiding the New Years doldrums. Don't make a list of resolutions. The word resolution suggests that you've done something wrong; it has a very negative connotation. Instead of looking at the glass half empty we need to start the year off with our glasses half full. Why don't we simply make a list of "possibilities" for the upcoming year, this way if we don't get around to making our lives better we can write if of by saying something like "Well, it was just a suggestion anyway right?." Or, "So what! I've got all year, besides these are only possible solutions to my routine, mundane existence." And that's the one thing you have to keep telling yourself for my sure fire method of new years happiness to work. They're only possibilities, and remember the old adage, the possibilities are endless.
While we are on the subject of the New Year I would like to share with you my list of possibilities for 2006.
Get a job: Hey why not? I could use a little extra money. The only problem I see with this one is that fact that I have no desirable, employable skills, except one that I just thought of. I've made so many sandwiches in my life. I have made so many sandwiches that I don't even have to think about making sandwiches anymore, it just comes naturally. I think that is a very desirable skill.
Start Smoking: I know what you're thinking. How could I possibly consider this to be a positive possibility for 2006? Well let me tell you. Quitting smoking is one of the most respected things a person can do. If I take up smoking and then quit everyone will be super proud of me! And lets be honest my ego could use the occasional "good job!" and "I'm proud of you."
Not get Arrested: Lets just face the facts, any year you don't get arrested is a good year.
Win the Nobel Peace Prize: I figure I'm just as likely a candidate as the next guy. I might as well win it. And remember, these are just possibilities; it doesn't mean I have to actually do all of this.
Stop Procrastination: I really just don't have anything to write about this other than the fact that I know for sure that I'm not going to get around to this one.
Get a Girlfriend: One thing I will never understand is how the ugliest, stupidest Guys are always with the most beautiful women, while I, a perfectly normal, somewhat entertaining individual, cannot even get a girl to glance in my direction. So here is my proposal, if you are hot, a girl, and have a nice car, give me a call. If not then don't bother. (Maybe my expectations are too high)
Add more to the List: I've got all year right? So why do I have to do it all now?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The past is hillarious
I found a bunch of old articles I wrote in the past for various publications. I am going to start posting these up here. enjoy!
Chad not Charlie
February 2006
By Cory Campbell
I have this Neighbor who… Wait a minute let me start over.
Have you ever had someone call you by the wrong name for as long as you know but for some reason you just haven't bothered to tell them your real name? I have this neighbor who for some reason called me Charlie for the longest time. Charlie? I mean come on, that's not even close! But for one reason or another I just never told him the truth, my real name, besides, I kind of liked Charlie. I grew accustomed to the alternate lifestyle it allowed me to not only create, but to live out. At school or at work, or wherever, I was just Cory, period, just plane, old, boring Cory. But when I saw that neighbor I was Charlie! Hell Yea! I could be anything I wanted and before you know it I was a legend. Everyone around the world (or at least the greater Gleneagles neighborhood association) was hearing stories of the great Charlie.
The worst part about this scenario is that the neighbor is bound to find out somehow, it's inevitable, it's going to happen. At some time during some bar-b-q, or another block party some inept friend or family member is going to let the proverbial cat out of the bag, and I'm going to go back to plane old boring Cory. And I know this is going to be the most awkward day of my life when it does happen.
When my neighbor found out he was just like, "so, your names not Charlie?" I start to panic and think to myself, "I love Charlie! I need Charlie! I've been Charlie for like two years how can I not be Charlie!" (I got a little attached to the alternate Persona it allowed me to create.)
I'm definitely feeling more awkward at this moment than a pre-teen in a gym class locker-room. I'm fumbling for words, "I'm Sorry… I just didn't…" Then he said the most beautiful thing I've ever herd. "Why didn't you just tell me your name was Chad? It would have been fine to just correct me." YES! I can keep living the lie! Chad, Yea, I like that. I think I can do something with Chad.
Chad not Charlie
February 2006
By Cory Campbell
I have this Neighbor who… Wait a minute let me start over.
Have you ever had someone call you by the wrong name for as long as you know but for some reason you just haven't bothered to tell them your real name? I have this neighbor who for some reason called me Charlie for the longest time. Charlie? I mean come on, that's not even close! But for one reason or another I just never told him the truth, my real name, besides, I kind of liked Charlie. I grew accustomed to the alternate lifestyle it allowed me to not only create, but to live out. At school or at work, or wherever, I was just Cory, period, just plane, old, boring Cory. But when I saw that neighbor I was Charlie! Hell Yea! I could be anything I wanted and before you know it I was a legend. Everyone around the world (or at least the greater Gleneagles neighborhood association) was hearing stories of the great Charlie.
The worst part about this scenario is that the neighbor is bound to find out somehow, it's inevitable, it's going to happen. At some time during some bar-b-q, or another block party some inept friend or family member is going to let the proverbial cat out of the bag, and I'm going to go back to plane old boring Cory. And I know this is going to be the most awkward day of my life when it does happen.
When my neighbor found out he was just like, "so, your names not Charlie?" I start to panic and think to myself, "I love Charlie! I need Charlie! I've been Charlie for like two years how can I not be Charlie!" (I got a little attached to the alternate Persona it allowed me to create.)
I'm definitely feeling more awkward at this moment than a pre-teen in a gym class locker-room. I'm fumbling for words, "I'm Sorry… I just didn't…" Then he said the most beautiful thing I've ever herd. "Why didn't you just tell me your name was Chad? It would have been fine to just correct me." YES! I can keep living the lie! Chad, Yea, I like that. I think I can do something with Chad.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
It has been a long year so far...
It has been a long, long time since my last blog entry. 4 months and 25 days to be exact. Over these past couple of months I have underwent a lot of changes in my life. And I have had a lot of time to think about the things that really matter in life. That being said I need to get something off of my chest that I have been thinking about for a while now…
What’s that thing that’s a mix between a donkey and a horse? You know the one that they use to go down the grand canyon. A Mule? Is that what that is? Who’s idea was this? All I know is the horse probably didn’t have a say in the matter. You walk up to a hose and say, “see that donkey over there? Would you hit that?” the horse will immediately say “oh hell no.” How drunk do you think you would have to get a horse before he will have sex with a donkey? How drunk before the horse starts looking at the donkey and says, “you know if you look past the ears and the nose she really isn’t that bad.” Seriously. At least try and mate something cool like a lion with an albatross so at least we will have awesome flying bird-lions to fight the terrorists with.
There, I’m glad I said that. Now we can move on.
Over the past few months I have quit my job. A good job with good money, but a job I hated. I have gone back to school to be a pharmacist, because if the real world has taught me anything its that having a degree in graphic design is about as useful as a kardashian sister on jeopardy. I am a lot poorer, and a lot happier. I never thought I would say those two things together. I always though that money=happiness=fun. I always tried to convince myself that I didn’t think this way but I did. And it’s not really true is it? I think that the money brings a sense of security which is often confused with happiness, some of the happiest moments in my life are when I let go of control and just let what happens happen. It’s like when your driving a car. If you drive a Volvo, the world’s safest car, you feel very good, very secure. Safe? Yes. Comfortable? Yes. But happy? Not really. Complacent yes. But fun? No. You need a big car, like a Viper, or a Ferrari, with an engine the size of Cayce Anthony’s conscience at the front, and two seats, and real wheel drive, and no traction control and no room for anything more that a tampon in the trunk. And when you go around a corner a little too fast and you see the tree coming a little too close and there is smoke from the tires and all of the sudden the car catches just before you hit said tree side on killing your passenger and maiming you for life, that’s fun. That’s happiness. loosing control for a little bit. Letting life happen instead of trying desperately overcorrect. You may have botched that corner but at least the Ferrari gave you the opportunity to either mess up, OR look like a driving god. And if you survive there is always another corner coming up that you can take what you have learned from the first corner and try again. Pretty soon you’re Michael Schumacher.
Look, all I’m trying to say is don’t get stuck in a situation that doesn’t allow you to take risks and have a little fun. I could have looked up in 10 years from the same desk with the same people and just though, “what if.” My bank account would be happy, my life would be complacent but would I be? Life is a lot like the Ferrari described above. It’s big, and its serious, and its fun, and its ridiculous and bright red, and if you get it wrong your going into a tree, but If you get it right it sublime, and its beautiful. That doesn’t mean there won’t be some tire smoke along the way but that’s half the fun right? So don’t drive it like it’s a Volvo. Besides, you can always replace your tires.
What’s that thing that’s a mix between a donkey and a horse? You know the one that they use to go down the grand canyon. A Mule? Is that what that is? Who’s idea was this? All I know is the horse probably didn’t have a say in the matter. You walk up to a hose and say, “see that donkey over there? Would you hit that?” the horse will immediately say “oh hell no.” How drunk do you think you would have to get a horse before he will have sex with a donkey? How drunk before the horse starts looking at the donkey and says, “you know if you look past the ears and the nose she really isn’t that bad.” Seriously. At least try and mate something cool like a lion with an albatross so at least we will have awesome flying bird-lions to fight the terrorists with.
There, I’m glad I said that. Now we can move on.
Over the past few months I have quit my job. A good job with good money, but a job I hated. I have gone back to school to be a pharmacist, because if the real world has taught me anything its that having a degree in graphic design is about as useful as a kardashian sister on jeopardy. I am a lot poorer, and a lot happier. I never thought I would say those two things together. I always though that money=happiness=fun. I always tried to convince myself that I didn’t think this way but I did. And it’s not really true is it? I think that the money brings a sense of security which is often confused with happiness, some of the happiest moments in my life are when I let go of control and just let what happens happen. It’s like when your driving a car. If you drive a Volvo, the world’s safest car, you feel very good, very secure. Safe? Yes. Comfortable? Yes. But happy? Not really. Complacent yes. But fun? No. You need a big car, like a Viper, or a Ferrari, with an engine the size of Cayce Anthony’s conscience at the front, and two seats, and real wheel drive, and no traction control and no room for anything more that a tampon in the trunk. And when you go around a corner a little too fast and you see the tree coming a little too close and there is smoke from the tires and all of the sudden the car catches just before you hit said tree side on killing your passenger and maiming you for life, that’s fun. That’s happiness. loosing control for a little bit. Letting life happen instead of trying desperately overcorrect. You may have botched that corner but at least the Ferrari gave you the opportunity to either mess up, OR look like a driving god. And if you survive there is always another corner coming up that you can take what you have learned from the first corner and try again. Pretty soon you’re Michael Schumacher.
Look, all I’m trying to say is don’t get stuck in a situation that doesn’t allow you to take risks and have a little fun. I could have looked up in 10 years from the same desk with the same people and just though, “what if.” My bank account would be happy, my life would be complacent but would I be? Life is a lot like the Ferrari described above. It’s big, and its serious, and its fun, and its ridiculous and bright red, and if you get it wrong your going into a tree, but If you get it right it sublime, and its beautiful. That doesn’t mean there won’t be some tire smoke along the way but that’s half the fun right? So don’t drive it like it’s a Volvo. Besides, you can always replace your tires.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Fashionable food
Food is good right? I mean like really good. Some food is better than others, some food is downright gross, but sustaining. Food is a big part of my life and lets face it, it’s a big part of your life too. Think of the last great time you had with your friends. Was there food involved? Probably. What about a favorite childhood memory, any food there? Most likely. So what happened? Chances are that anyone that was born in the nineties didn’t have many sit down with the family every night dinners. It’s a little sad and a little eye opening. I think the dinner table is a sort of cultural barometer. It shows where our priorities are at any given point in time, from the fast food boom and hustle and bustle of the eighties and the dot come, “I’ll have a triple-non-fat-carmel-three-pump-americano-machiato, to go please” of the nineties, we emerged into the new millennium not really giving a shit about what we ate, or where it came from. But then, all of the sudden, we did. Something changed. There was a network on TV devoted to food, the slow foods movement came and people started to care about where the food they put into their mouths came from, and this is a good thing.
But lets be honest here. Hasn’t it gotten a little out of hand? If I here fair-trade-free-range one more time I’m going to shit a brick, as in “I ONLY eat free range organic fair trade lima beans.” Come on, you don’t care, you think your friends care, but they don’t. They only care because they think you care. You have a t-shirt from the local co-op but you eat street food from a guy who probably stores his kebabs in baby panda pelts. It’s gotten to the point where food is a fashion accessory, like your ugly mustache, or your t-shirt that doesn’t fit. So here is what I will do for you. Lets talk about some food phrases and foods you can eat that will surely get you some street cred at the next Vampire Weekend concert.
The number one most fashionable food, and don’t forget to bring it up anytime your can, is Pho. Pho is so hot right now I think I saw it with ray bans and a fixie the other day. And don’t be so naïve as to say “PHO”, its pronounced “phaUHhh”, everyone will know you’re a fake. And it is good, oh so good, salt savory beefy. Yum. And P.S. there is no such thing as vegetarian pho.
Number two. Sushi. Its not as hot as it used to be. It used to be dangerous and trendy, now every real housewife of wherever eats it on every episode. On second thought sushi is lame, don’t even bother.
Number three. Anything ethnic. But don’t just say, “We went out for Mexican”, say “We had some delicious ethnic food last week.” It also helps if it’s slightly exotic, like Indian, or Greek.
Number four. Small birds. Mention you had quail last night and you will be respected. Mention you know what an Ortolan Bunting is and the proper way to eat it and you will be a god.
Side note, Co-ops, join one and ride your bike to it, smile at the hippie girl at the counter, and comment on the freshness of the cukes. You will be invited to the next cheese tasting.
Number five. Street food. Insert the term street food into as many conversations as possible so people know you’re serious about food AND you’re down with the working class.
There it is, follow these rules and you will be a foodie faster than a vegan to a peace rally.
I hope you enjoy your next bowl of fresh, local, sustainable, free-trade, pho.
But lets be honest here. Hasn’t it gotten a little out of hand? If I here fair-trade-free-range one more time I’m going to shit a brick, as in “I ONLY eat free range organic fair trade lima beans.” Come on, you don’t care, you think your friends care, but they don’t. They only care because they think you care. You have a t-shirt from the local co-op but you eat street food from a guy who probably stores his kebabs in baby panda pelts. It’s gotten to the point where food is a fashion accessory, like your ugly mustache, or your t-shirt that doesn’t fit. So here is what I will do for you. Lets talk about some food phrases and foods you can eat that will surely get you some street cred at the next Vampire Weekend concert.
The number one most fashionable food, and don’t forget to bring it up anytime your can, is Pho. Pho is so hot right now I think I saw it with ray bans and a fixie the other day. And don’t be so naïve as to say “PHO”, its pronounced “phaUHhh”, everyone will know you’re a fake. And it is good, oh so good, salt savory beefy. Yum. And P.S. there is no such thing as vegetarian pho.
Number two. Sushi. Its not as hot as it used to be. It used to be dangerous and trendy, now every real housewife of wherever eats it on every episode. On second thought sushi is lame, don’t even bother.
Number three. Anything ethnic. But don’t just say, “We went out for Mexican”, say “We had some delicious ethnic food last week.” It also helps if it’s slightly exotic, like Indian, or Greek.
Number four. Small birds. Mention you had quail last night and you will be respected. Mention you know what an Ortolan Bunting is and the proper way to eat it and you will be a god.
Side note, Co-ops, join one and ride your bike to it, smile at the hippie girl at the counter, and comment on the freshness of the cukes. You will be invited to the next cheese tasting.
Number five. Street food. Insert the term street food into as many conversations as possible so people know you’re serious about food AND you’re down with the working class.
There it is, follow these rules and you will be a foodie faster than a vegan to a peace rally.
I hope you enjoy your next bowl of fresh, local, sustainable, free-trade, pho.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Well thought out life
I’ve Never fit in. Never have. I’m not really to sure why. I just haven’t. I’m not trying to be sad, or write a sort of “woe as me” piece here. Thing is actually, I’m ok with it. I’ve lived with it forever and I assume I will live with it for the next whatever. I’m always sort of the one looking in. I think if you would ask any of my closest friends, the few I have, they would all agree that I’m not the most compromising person around. I’m very sure in my ways. For example, I hate water; loathe it with all my being. I don’t like being wet, I don’t like swimming. I very much like being near water, like on the beach or on a pier or lakeside, I just don’t like being in water. I’ve been on trips with friends on a lake or near the ocean, and everyone is either in the water or being towed behind a boat on one of those hideous tube things. Inevitably they will say “your turn Cory.” And I will say “no thanks.” “Come on, just once!” they will plead, “I’m good” I’ll say. “Come on, don’t be a wuss.” This goes on for some time and I will hold a stern “no.” I just don’t like water. I’m not getting in. this makes me out to be a bit of a spoilsport and I don’t get invited back. In truth I’m not a spoilsport. I’m not preventing anyone else from having fun; I just don’t like being wet. I’m perfectly happy where I am. I think people are worried I’m not having any fun, so they in turn are not having any fun. I’m the exact opposite. I don’t care so much about what other people are doing as long as I’m having fun. This is a blessing and a curse all in one. The result of this thought process is that I’ve lived an incredibly happy life mostly alone, the friends I have are good ones and then there is everyone else. And do you know what? I think I like it that way. I have no appearances to keep. I’ve not got a lot of the kind of half-friendships most people keep. I don’t have 6 trillion friends on FacePage. I have 160. That may seem like a lot but after very little research I have concluded that most people have an average of 347. All the people I have contacted on myface are people I would actually like to here from, and am genuinely interested in seeing what they are up to. As a result of all this, people often think I’m a ass-hat and don’t even give me a chance. Truth is, I’m not. I’m the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.
I think this all comes from somewhere deep inside me. As I said, I don’t fit in, but really I don’t want to fit in, never have. I don’t know why, just never have. It killed my parents with the “why cant you just be like the other boys” or “why do you have to wear two different colour shoe’s to school?” I heard so often when I was younger. At a point I think they just gave up and said let him wear it. But lets hang on parents. Do you really want me to be like all the other boys in school? You want me to get in fights, and get caught smoking behind the cafeteria? You want me to drink too much beer, play football and have no respect for women? In the words of George Carlin, Just think of how stupid the average person is, and then realize half of them are ever stupider than that. I just didn’t think it was cool to try and emulate these loud, obnoxious, mouth breathers. But still I think its something deeper than that. I just have his need to stand out, to be different, in everything. I think if you are this way, and a lot of you are, you understand completely. If not, you never will understand, and that’s okay. I think in life you just have to figure out who you are, and I think I found myself a lot sooner than most do. As a result I didn’t, and still don’t, have anything to prove to anyone, and that pisses a lot of people off. It really shouldn’t but it does. But I don’t care, as I said, I’m perfectly happy where I am. In the end, that’s all that matters.
I think this all comes from somewhere deep inside me. As I said, I don’t fit in, but really I don’t want to fit in, never have. I don’t know why, just never have. It killed my parents with the “why cant you just be like the other boys” or “why do you have to wear two different colour shoe’s to school?” I heard so often when I was younger. At a point I think they just gave up and said let him wear it. But lets hang on parents. Do you really want me to be like all the other boys in school? You want me to get in fights, and get caught smoking behind the cafeteria? You want me to drink too much beer, play football and have no respect for women? In the words of George Carlin, Just think of how stupid the average person is, and then realize half of them are ever stupider than that. I just didn’t think it was cool to try and emulate these loud, obnoxious, mouth breathers. But still I think its something deeper than that. I just have his need to stand out, to be different, in everything. I think if you are this way, and a lot of you are, you understand completely. If not, you never will understand, and that’s okay. I think in life you just have to figure out who you are, and I think I found myself a lot sooner than most do. As a result I didn’t, and still don’t, have anything to prove to anyone, and that pisses a lot of people off. It really shouldn’t but it does. But I don’t care, as I said, I’m perfectly happy where I am. In the end, that’s all that matters.
Friday, January 7, 2011
withering minds
Good Lord I’m bored. I mean, not just right now, like, all the time. I work at a car dealership and I sell cars to people with more money than sense. Its all a lot of fun sometimes, however most of the time I’m just sitting and waiting for someone to pull onto the lot and probably not buy a car. For example, today I’ve watched two episodes of 30 Rock, the new Winter Wipeout, and yesterdays Tonight Show. And that’s all before lunch. Its now 2:44 and no one has come in. It’s not like this job is too terribly hard either. Seriously, you could do this job even if your thumbs don’t oppose. I generally do two or three crosswords a day but this is proving to be less and less stimulating. My desk is right in the middle of the showroom floor so I can see everything that goes on. It’s gotten to the point where I have started to chart everyone’s comings and goings just to make graphs about their daily habits. You know, things like how frequently they pee and when. When they go to lunch and how long, I keep a daily journal of this crap. Somebody please help me! And I’m not the only one who apparently thinks this place is absolutely, drool inducingly, boring. I found a list in my desk that the previous guy who sat here made. His name was Skip and it is entitled “Skip’s Good List/ Shit List”. It’s a sheet of paper, divided into two halves with a line down the middle. One side is people you can’t trust, or “shit list” and on the other, people you can trust, “good list”.
People you cant trust are as follows (mostly men); Politicians (all levels), Doctors, Lawyers, Clergy, Judges, Dentists, TV Newscasters, Policemen, Firemen, Pro Sports owners and players, College Coaches, Non-white people living in pre-fab’s, men in shorts, men with beards and generally sloppy looking people.
The people you can trust are (mostly women); Dogs and Cats, Prostitutes, The Augusta Masters Committee, young children, Lady golfers, Bar Tenders, Retired Military or senior enlisted, school teachers, Automobile Salesmen, Grandparents, Small business owners, Clean cut people, and all wild animals.
And do you know what? I have sold cars to, or met and dealt with, almost all of these people. And I agree completely. I have never met a fireman I could trust, and I’m definitely leery of grown men in shorts. (And yes I have sold a car to a prostitute) There is something about buying a car that makes people weird. They just think Im trying to pull the wool over their eyes or something, when in reality I’m just trying to make a living.
Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is I’m BORED, and so was Skip. A monkey could do this job. Really all you have to do is show up on time and be nice. (even that’s not a qualification for some people) and it got me thinking, why don’t more people have jobs? Seriously? Even the densest of Neanderthals could sell cars. You may be thinking, “But Cory, My thumbs actually don’t oppose, I only got a 0 on my S.A.T.’s, and I’m as ugly as a Badgers Beaver. What is there for me to do?” Sure you won’t be on the cover of Victoria’s Hollywood , but this didn’t stop Dick Cheney from being vice president, or Bill Murray from being awesome, and it shouldn’t stop you from doing what you want to do. And if all else fails, Be an auto technician. How hard could that be? You take a spark plug out, you put another one it, easy-peasy.
I’m going to end this seemingly nonsensical commentary with that. If there is one thing you learn from this blog it should be this, don’t trust men in shorts but all wild animals are ok.
People you cant trust are as follows (mostly men); Politicians (all levels), Doctors, Lawyers, Clergy, Judges, Dentists, TV Newscasters, Policemen, Firemen, Pro Sports owners and players, College Coaches, Non-white people living in pre-fab’s, men in shorts, men with beards and generally sloppy looking people.
The people you can trust are (mostly women); Dogs and Cats, Prostitutes, The Augusta Masters Committee, young children, Lady golfers, Bar Tenders, Retired Military or senior enlisted, school teachers, Automobile Salesmen, Grandparents, Small business owners, Clean cut people, and all wild animals.
And do you know what? I have sold cars to, or met and dealt with, almost all of these people. And I agree completely. I have never met a fireman I could trust, and I’m definitely leery of grown men in shorts. (And yes I have sold a car to a prostitute) There is something about buying a car that makes people weird. They just think Im trying to pull the wool over their eyes or something, when in reality I’m just trying to make a living.
Anyway, that’s beside the point. The point is I’m BORED, and so was Skip. A monkey could do this job. Really all you have to do is show up on time and be nice. (even that’s not a qualification for some people) and it got me thinking, why don’t more people have jobs? Seriously? Even the densest of Neanderthals could sell cars. You may be thinking, “But Cory, My thumbs actually don’t oppose, I only got a 0 on my S.A.T.’s, and I’m as ugly as a Badgers Beaver. What is there for me to do?” Sure you won’t be on the cover of Victoria’s Hollywood , but this didn’t stop Dick Cheney from being vice president, or Bill Murray from being awesome, and it shouldn’t stop you from doing what you want to do. And if all else fails, Be an auto technician. How hard could that be? You take a spark plug out, you put another one it, easy-peasy.
I’m going to end this seemingly nonsensical commentary with that. If there is one thing you learn from this blog it should be this, don’t trust men in shorts but all wild animals are ok.
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