Chick Flicks.

I like all types of movies. And I like to mix things up. If I watch an action movie, maybe follow it up with a comedy. Then a drama. Then maybe a thriller or a horror movie. And every now and then, it’s good plain fun to throw in a romantic comedy.

Now, let’s get something straight. Romantic comedy does NOT necessarily equal chick flick. The Notebook = chick flick. Hitch = romantic comedy. Nights in Rodanthe = chick flick. Fever Pitch = romantic comedy. Just because there is romance involved, it doesn’t make it a chick flick. Every freaking movie has a romantic aspect in one way or another! Except war movies.

It’s definitely acceptable for guys to watch chick flicks. But there is a time and a place.

It’s definitely okay to watch romantic comedies – and even chick flicks – with a girl. That’s perfectly acceptable, regardless of the time or the place. Because guys are watching it for one reason and one reason only… (to snuggle with the girl while they watch it…)

If you’re watching them alone, and you’re a guy, that is when things definitely get sketchy. There’s many factors involved here.

Time of the day is key. If you’re watching it at night, by yourself, when there are plenty of sports on the television… then you have a problem. If it’s Friday or Saturday night and you’re watching these movies alone… then you have an even bigger problem. It doesn’t mean you’re gay, just very effeminate.

But if nothing else is on, and especially if it’s the afternoon, and you’re just looking for something to entertain you… then it is definitely okay.

Now we get to the question of why. Why watch these movies? Well, there are some really good romantic comedies there. True, most of them are overly sappy, cliché, and are mainly targeted towards women. However, when done right, romantic comedies can be very funny. My biggest concern with romantic comedies are that they are unrealistic. They are storybook scenarios of love stories. They are aimed toward hopeless romantics… and condition us to think that true love will always prevail.

Yet, as long as they are funny… that can be overlooked. Clueless is a great movie. Legally Blonde is another good one. These two films are carried by great performances by Alicia Silverstone and Reese Witherspoon. Without them, those movies would not be so great. Which brings me to my next point.

The chicks are hot! If you’re watching a movie solely so you can watch a specific actress in action for 90 minutes, then that is certainly not gay. It’s the same thing as listening to chick music. For example, I like listening to Taylor Swift because her voice arouses me. How is that gay? On the other hand, if listening to Livin’ La Vida Loca makes you want to dip into Ricky Martin….then you’re gay.

You may combat that argument with the statement: “If you want to get your fix, just watch porn!” Well the simple is answer is this: you can’t watch porn 24/7. You just can’t. Also, I don’t like watching stone-faced chicks with fake boobs dry-humping a corvette and faking an orgasm. I prefer women like Anne Hathaway or Amy Adams. Respectable working women who have talent. I like watching them in romantic situations, acting free and attainable. And just being hot. I can dream, can’t I?

There ain’t nothin’ wrong with enjoying a good old fashioned romantic comedy. After all, they’re called “guilty pleasures” for a reason.

The Screwjob of ’97

There aren’t a whole lot of things that I am exceptionally talented at. But at the same times, I am fairly skilled in many things. Call me a jack-of-all-trades if you’d like.  But the things that I am particularly good in, I take pride in. I’m a pretty good athlete… I’m particularly efficient in ping-pong. I’m good at adding large numbers in my head, and I also take pride in my writing skills.

I think of myself as a proficient writer. Even with this blog… after every entry I revise it and correct even the slightest errors. I always expect my grammar to be top-notch; it’s just how I am. But probably my biggest skill is that I am a great speller.

When I was seven years old, I spelled supercalifragilisticexpialidocious correctly on a spelling test. I also know how to spell the longest words in the English language: pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanokoniosis.  It’s a lung disease.

But I’m not here to brag about that. Even though I consider myself a good speller, I never participated in a spelling bee. In fact, I don’t think I even could if I wanted to because I am forever scarred from spelling bees. When I was in elementary school, they would sometimes combine all the kids from each grade and hold spelling bees. They were nothing official… just for fun. I participated in it when I was in both third and fourth grade. Naturally, I expected myself to win.

In both instances, I made it to the final round. And in both instances, I spelled my first word wrong in the final round. The first one was completely my fault; a horrible mistake. Choked under the pressure. But the second time was complete and utter BULLSHIT. To this day I still insist that I should not have been eliminated.

Alright, the first time… the word I was given was “weird.” Now this was my first time having to deal with the pressure. There were about 40 kids watching, and I got nervous. In my head… I started thinking of that goddamn rule: “I before E except after C.” Alright, I thought… stick to the rule. Can’t go wrong.

“Weird, W-I-E-R-D, Weird”


Just like that, I was eliminated. I went into the hallway and started crying. I cried a lot when I was in elementary school. But that’s neither here nor there. If anything, this motivated me to come back even stronger next year and win the whole thing.

A year passes by, and I am determined. Nothing can stop me. I once again make it to the final round, and this time… the final round – which took place in a classroom the year before – Is held on the stage in the auditorium. Goddamn. Talk about being under the spotlight.

I was one of the final ten competitors left. The first word I receive is “Wednesday.” Now this is a tricky word for a fourth grader because it’s not spelt how it is said. But I had this down. I know my days of the week.

“Wednesday, W-E-D-N-E-S-D-A-Y, Wednesday!”

I say this with no doubt in my mind that I am correct. Nailed it.


What?! I could hardly believe my ears… I wasn’t wrong! Did I miss a letter? What the hell?! Then the word is given to the person after me. They say:

“Wednesday, CAPITAL W-E-D-N-E-S-D-A-Y, Wednesday.”

I forgot to say “Capital W”. Are you FUCKING kidding me? I should have taken my chair and thrown it directly at whoever was moderating. Because that is complete and utter bullshit. It’s a spelling bee… not a fucking capitalization bee. I was robbed. I was somehow eliminated without spelling anything wrong.

I have never participated in a spelling bee since, nor will I ever. Because I know the politics of it. They could screw over whoever the hell they want. This was about thirteen years ago, and I am still pissed off about it.

And I haven’t been able to enjoy a Wednesday since.

Shutter Island

(As always, this blog is devoid of spoilers)

Shutter Island wasn’t really a movie I had been greatly anticipating. I had known about its production for a while, and knew it was another Scorsese/DiCaprio project. I was fairly certain it would be good, but it wasn’t something that I told myself I needed to see opening weekend (like Avatar!) However, I heard great things just days after its release, and decided to catch it on Sunday night. And boy am I glad I did!

Last week, I had a conversation with my friend about the most noteworthy suspense/mystery/horror movies that have come out in the US since 2000. We chose that year because it was the year after the Sixth Sense came out, which was the last real big hit of the genre. We didn’t really come up with much. Our list consisted of: The Ring, Signs, The Others, Saw and Scream. That’s it. Needless to say, the genre has been in a little bit of a rut.

That’s when Martin Scorsese stepped in.

Scorsese is mostly known for his “mafia” movies such as Goodfellas, Casino, the Departed, etc. Doesn’t really stray much into mystery/suspense… but he did a hell of a job. Within 10 minutes, the plot is already set up and you know that you’re in for a great ride. However, the movie really fucks with your head. I say the plot is set up, but at least you think it is set up. As it progresses shit keeps happening and you have no idea why. But it all comes together in the end.

The ending is arguably a little predictable, and even though what ended up playing out was one of the possibilities I had conjured up in my head about midway through the movie… I was more interested in how it actually got to the ending as opposed to what the end result actually was. Brilliant story-telling and great filmmaking all around. A lot of good actors in the film too. Obviously DiCaprio, but also Sir Ben Kingsley, a small role by Jackie Earl Haley, Mark Ruffalo, and Michelle Williams. Michelle Williams is beautiful by the way… she has come a long way since Dawson’s Creek. (…not that I watched that…)

Highly, highly recommend this movie to everyone.

I actually almost got to the movie late because I was watching the end of the USA/Canada game on television. Holy crap, what a fucking game! Possibly the best hockey game I have ever witnessed. For those of you unfamiliar, Canada pretty much owns hockey. Half the people in their country play the sport. They are heavily favored to take home the gold, while US was originally thought to be the 4th best team. So this wasn’t exactly a repeat of the Miracle on Ice when we beat the Soviets, but it was a pretty huge upset. The top 7 or 8 players on the Canadian team would easily the best player on the American squad. The US decided to go with a young team, and casual hockey fans probably haven’t even heard of half of them. However, they play with a lot of energy and they are a fun bunch to root for.

I had been starting to hate our country lately for many reasons, but the Olympics have given me a renewed sense of nationalism. I suppose that is the point. And who knows, maybe the US hockey team will singlehandedly rejuvenate our economy.

All in all, it was a solid Sunday night.

Beerpong: the Great American Sport

Today I am going to talk about Beerpong. Why? Because I goddamn feel like it. It is the sport of champions. An amazing game. I don’t remember when I played my first game of beerpong, probably my senior year of high school, but whenever it was… I fell in love with it right away.

Now, beerpong is mainly a recreational game… obviously. I remember reading about an actual beerpong competition that is held every year, but that’s the only “competitive” beerpong I know of. Bars also have tournaments sometimes, but it’s all in good fun. When you play a game of pong, you’re supposed to have fun. The goal is to get wasted as you can, and if you win… great! There are no losers in beerpong.

Except with me.

I take beerpong seriously. Too seriously. If you’re not good, then get the fuck off the table… because I will embarrass you. I like to say that I am a talented beerpong player. Sure you may say that beerpong doesn’t take a lot of talent, but it does. It’s not easy throwing a ball into a cup from a certain distance, especially when there are fewer cups left and when you are inebriated. However, I feel that the drunker I get, the better I get. That’s basically my philosophy for everything. I socialize better when I’m drunk, I’m funnier when I’m drunk take tests better drunk, etc. if I was a doctor I’d make sure to shotgun a beer right before walking into the operating room.

I actually know people that detest beerpong. This pisses me off to no end. I understand if you’re not a big fan of beerpong and that you would just rather not play, but you still would play if asked… but to actually have a specific hatred for beerpong is ludicrous. It also tells me a lot about you. It means that you don’t hate beerpong, you hate the people that like beerpong. You used to go to parties when you were in school, and the table would be crowded by a bunch of people all having a good time, having fun, getting drunk, etc. You always wanted to play, but didn’t have the balls to walk over and include yourself. Either that or you just never had friends to play with. So that’s why you resent the sport. But you shouldn’t hate the game… you should hate yourself. Loser.

So, as I was saying, I take beerpong seriously. I expect to win every time I play. I expect to throw the ball into the cup every time it is my turn. And I always expect myself to hit the last shit. I never rely on my partner. I always assume I’ll have to hit all 10 cups and if my partner does anything than it’s a bonus.

If I lose, I am furious. I show good sportsmanship, of course, I’ll shake the hand of the people that beat me… but I will not be happy about it. I say “good game,” but in my head I am thinking “you’re fucking dead.”  I hate losing. Hate it.

Another complaint about beerpong is that you don’t drink enough during the game. Yeah, well, that’s because you never fucking win. If you roll off 5, 6, or 7 wins in a row.. you are undoubtedly going to be shitfaced. I can definitely attest to that. Also, if you wanna drink more while you’re playing, grab a fucking side beer then! Nobody is stopping you!

The thing that sucks about post-college life is that beerpong becomes more and more seldom. It’s a staple in the college atmosphere, but after that… you just don’t play it anymore. It really is a tragedy. However, there are still some magical nights where you’ll somebody bust out the shitty folding table, keystone lights and red solo cups. There’s no prettier sight. Oh, and bouncing is gay. Just don’t do it.

The Flying Tomato

I’m not sure how much Olympian athletes get paid… it’s supposed to be more of an honor to compete in the Olympics than worrying about how big of a paycheck you’re going to receive. I believe most of the athletes make their money off of endorsements. Lindsey Vonn, the cute skier for example, (who won gold today – congrats Lindsey) makes $3 million a year in endorsements. Not bad.

However, she doesn’t make nearly as much as Shaun White. White is an extremely well-known snowboarder; arguably the most famous one ever. He is extremely identifiable because of his flaming red hair, which earned him the nickname “The Flying Tomato.” He won the gold medal at the Olympics last year in the Halfpipe event, and is competing for that this year as well. So what does he make in endorsements per year? $9 million.

That’s right… companies actually pay this guy to endorse their products:

$9 million.

Sure, he’s a great snowboarder. Sure he seems like a cool, laid-back guy. Does that mean he deserves all that money? You know why I think he makes that much? Because of his goddamn hair. Having an extremely distinguishable hairstyle will always draw you attention. Not saying that it’s what he’s trying to do, it just happens to be how his hair grows. Yet, he’s still reaping the benefits from it. I’d say that hair alone earns him at least 2 of his 9 million dollars per year.

Like I said, a crazy hairstyle can take you a long way.

Am I right, Carrot Top?

Am I right, Coolio?

Am I right, Don King?

Let’s face it… “Chairman of the Board,” “Gangsta’s Paradise,” and being Mike Tyson’s right-hand man is not what made these guys household names; it’s their goddamn, motherfucking hair. But there’s no need to be bitter. They’re smart. In fact, we should all learn from them. If we want to be famous, then we gotta do something about our hair. A shaved head just ain’t gonna cut it.

In fact, I think that it’s the lone factor that is preventing my blog from becoming the most popular blog on all of the interweb. So, starting tomorrow, I’m growing out my hair. When it’s long enough I intend to take a trip to the barbershop, and request that I be made to look like this:

David “The Flying Tomato” Weingrad.

Once I look like this, what company would not want me to endorse them? I can quit my nonexistent day job and officially become a full-time blogger. I am an illustrious human being already, but I knew I was just missing… something. And now I have found it.

And who knows, maybe I’ll magically become awesome at snowboarding. I’ve never even tried snowboarding before. Or skiing. That needs to be fixed ASAP. But first I need to try Curling. Oh and as I write this Shaun White just went on his first run and is now the current leader in the halfpipe event.

All thanks to me. Hmmm I wonder if he’d endorse the Weinblog if I asked…


I’ve actually been pretty bored by the Olympics thus far. So far it’s been mainly speed skating, skiing, and figure skating. Figure skating I never had an interest it. We get it – you’re graceful. I will never be that graceful, nor do I want to be. When I watch figure skating, I root for people to fall… it’s funny.

With speed skating and skiing you’re just watching people, well… skate and ski… not very interesting, and you don’t really know what’s going on. The snowboard cross is pretty cool… that has entertained me. I wish I could snowboard.

But that was until today. I had been looking forward to today because men’s hockey begins… but shit, I didn’t realize that something else would catch my interest… curling!

Right now, I’m watching USA vs. Germany. Curling has a reputation for being a boring sport… but damn, this is intense! You can just see the focus on their faces and they slide those… little plate things… towards the target. As it’s sliding, two other teammates sweep the ice with brooms as they try to direct it exactly where they want it to go. When these guys retire from curling, they can probably have a future in home-cleaning services. Because damn, they’re good.

And people always make fun of Germans because whenever they say anything, they sound like they’re angry. Well, that applies for curling too. As the plate is sliding they are screaming at the top of their lungs, as if they’re willing the plate to where they want it to go.

I wonder how you come to the realization that you could be an Olympian curler? I’m guessing that maybe at a young age they realized that they were very good at shuffleboard? Because it is essentially the same thing, minus the sweeping.

I’m watching the end of this USA-Germany match right now. Germany is up 7-5… I’m not exactly sure how the scoring works, but I know you want to obviously get it close to the bullseye. OK, USA is shooting, his name is Isaacson…. A jew! There it goes, they’re sweeping… it lands in the blue section. Germany is apparently trying to put up a wall in front of the bullseye so that USA can’t score points… interesting strategy. Every time the USA goes the Germany proceed to knock it right off.

Hmm apparently there is a clock in curling… and if you don’t finish within the time limit you have to forfeit. That is… something.

Wow, Germany just called a time-out. Yes, curling apparently has time-outs. Because it’s such a fast-paced game as it is, that you need to slow it down to mull things over. Or maybe they needed a new broom.

And now USA is calling a time-out. Man, talk about dramatic finishes! I’m not sure if this is a 20-second time-out or a full time-out. Now one of them is drinking water… apparently curling causes dehydration. The announcer just said that there are a lot of “Monday morning Quarterbacks” in curling… yeah, that’s how I plan to spend my Monday.

Hmm apparently the timeout worked out for the USA because they just shot another plate into the blue section (one away from the bullseye) and now they have two there. Not sure what that means but it must be good. I’m guessing Germany is gonna try to knock them both out in one go. Let’s see…

And they do! Damn Germans. Oh, just learned that the plates are in fact called “stones.” With that shot, the announcer said that the USA has officially lost. And he must be right because they are shaking hands. Germany wins 7-5.

Oh well, at least we still have World War II.

That’s it… I want to get a recreational curling game going sometime soon… who’s in?

Hockey starts in about 10 mins… USA vs. Switzerland. I read in the newspaper today that we have an 8-1 chance of winning the gold, behind Canada, Russia, and Sweden. Who knows, maybe they’ll pull off another miracle on ice.


Not A Good Time To Be A Luger

Pretty ironic that just the other day I was talking about all the times I’ve been whacked in the head. I say this because even though those incidents that I endured are not really something you’d ever volunteer for, they’re nothing compared to slamming the back of your head into a concrete barrier while going 90 miles an hour. My incidents = headache. That incident = deathache.

I’m speaking of course, about Nodar Kumaritashvili, the 21-year old Luger from Georgia that died during his training session on the opening day of the Olympics. Yeah, that kinda sucks. Imagine working your whole life to get to one moment, and when you’ve finally put yourself in position to accomplish it… you die moments before you get the chance. Had he failed in his quest and ended up not qualifying for the Olympics, he would be alive right now.

It’s like if all of a sudden I happen to bump into Taylor Swift on the street. We strike up a conversation, we hit it off, and then suddenly I realize that she’s flirting with me. Before we part ways I decide to ask her out, thinking she’ll say yes. I open my mouth to speak, she waits with anticipation, and then… I get run over by a street luger and die.

So yes, the Olympics are in full effect right now. Honestly, I don’t know many people that really care about the Olympics. It’s all about national pride, and let’s face it… our country has no national pride. We’re all spoiled sonofabitches that live in the most privileged country in the world, and it’s the only way we know. Even the “poor” people in America still own a microwave and a television. Why root for our country when we’re already the biggest superpower in the world? We’re already the best country and we don’t need the Olympics to verify that. That’s the mentality we all have… it’s sad but true.

There are maybe four or five other countries that are even close to being in that same situation. There are 195 countries, and the average American would be lucky to name even 100 of them. So imagine being a citizen of one of those 95 countries, where you’re just fighting for relevancy… THOSE are the countries that have immense national pride. And those are the countries that I root for. Screw America, I’m rooting for Cape Verde! Yes, that is a country. Georgia had just six Olympians … and one of them freakin’ dies. What are the odds of that?!

Actually, I can think of one reason to watch the Olympics… Lindsey Vonn… the American skier. She is fucking cute!

Though I would not advise going out in the snow in nothing but a bikini… you are liable to catch a cold.

So, that is at least one reason to watch. I’d also be more inclined to watch if these events were officially declared Olympic sports:

  • Quidditch
  • Beerpong
  • Apples to Apples
  • Rocks, Paper, Scissor
  • Guess Who
  • Laser Tag
  • Duck Hunt (Nintendo game)
  • 7-Up
  • Capture the Flag
  • The traps from the “Saw” movies

I’m sure you’d all agree with me on that…

Oh, and one last thing… about Valentine’s Day (the movie)…. I predicted last week that it would make $26 mil this weekend, and have a 5.3 rating on IMDB. Well, it made an eye-popping $52.4 million, doubling my prediction. I was much closer on the rating, since it currently holds a 5.7, thus establishing itself as a shitty movie (not that it needed it). I’ll still watch it eventually, but if you were one of those that actually paid money to view that movie, do yourself a favor and call yourself an idiot for me. Thanks!

RIP Nodar

Happy Valentine’s Day.

“Just go over and talk to her!”


“I said why don’t you go talk to her?

“Talk to who?”

“That girl you’ve been staring at all night!”

“Huh? I… I haven’t…”

“Oh, shut up man. It’s pretty fucking obvious.”

He says nothing. Had he really been that blatant? His friend has been talking to him about… something… but he couldn’t hold his attention. The most gorgeous girl he had ever laid eyes on was sitting alone at the opposite end of the bar. But he figured as long as he kept nodding and throwing in the occasional “yeah” and “I agree” to his friend, then it would at least appear that he had been paying rapt attention.

“Eh… I don’t know man, she’s not really my type.”

She was completely his type.

“I’m more into blondes.”

What was he talking about? He hated blondes.

“She probably has a boyfriend, anyway.”

He hoped not.

“Plus she looks like she’s a real bitch. I don’t need that”

Now he was just grasping at straws.

“Dude, if you say one more excuse not to go talk to her, then I will.”

“No… no… alright. Maybe I will. Maybe.”

Truth is, he had been thinking of opening lines in his head for the past half-hour. There was this girl, this perfect girl, sitting alone at the edge of the bar. At first he figured that she was meeting somebody, because a girl like that couldn’t possibly be single.

He had seen her, exactly thirty-two minutes ago when she walked into the bar. It was like a scene from a movie; when the beautiful girl walks into a party, and everything goes silent while romantic music plays in the background. That’s exactly what happened in his head. He watched as she walked in, sauntered gracefully towards the bar, and sat down in the last seat. She ordered a vodka tonic, and has since ordered another.

“So, you gonna do it, or what?”

“I don’t know… I still don’t think I’m ready to – “

“Oh, shut the hell up. It’s been six months since you broke up with Katie… dude you need to move on already!”

He doesn’t respond. Had it been six months already? It sure didn’t seem like it. Inevitably, the mention of Katie’s name sends him into a whirlwind of emotions. The day they first met at the subway stop… their first date… their first sexual experience… their walks in the park… the phone calls at 2 AM… the stupid arguments… the lack of communication… and of course, the break-up. It was a track that has been playing on repeat in his mind for the past six months, and there’s absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

“…You there, man?”

“What? Oh… yeah… just give me a second…”

Ever since the break-up, he hadn’t even thought about the idea of meeting another girl. He had always been under the assumption that him and Katie would get back together. But it was exactly one month ago today when it finally registered in his head that it would never happen, when she showed up at the same party he was at… with her new boyfriend.

But that was until today. Until thirty-five minutes ago, when this gorgeous girl walked into the bar. For the first time, he imagines himself with her, and how good it would feel to love again. He imagines himself walking up to the girl and saying something funny. Or something smart. Even better, something funny and smart. She laughs, and he knows he’s in. They begin to talk, exchanging funny anecdotes about the world, and realizing by the minute how much they have in common.

She’s just broken up with somebody too, and has been since looking to meet somebody else, which is why she came to this bar tonight. In fact, she noticed him as soon as she sat down, and was hoping that he would come over… and he did. Hours fly by, but to the two of them time has become insignificant; there’s only two things in the world that they know…

Her… and him.

Before they know it, the bartender announces last call. He asks her for her number, and she gives it to him immediately. He kisses her on the cheek goodnight, and then leaves with his friends as they congratulate him on a job well done. Three stressful days pass by as he has to restrain himself a good fifty times from calling her, not wanting to seem to desperate. Finally, on the third day, he calls.

She has been waiting for his call. They agree to see each other that night, and they hit it off yet again. From that day forward, he knows that she is the one. After many dates, many phone calls, and many nights spent together… he finally meets her parents, and they love him. They move in together, and send out Christmas cards that following year with both of them on it.

On a pleasant Sunday afternoon, he proposes to her. She says yes. A year later, they get married. They grow old together, have kids, and never a day goes by where their love for each other doesn’t remain strong. Neither of them will ever forget that magical day at the bar that brought them together.

“Alright, time’s up man. Go talk to her.”

“Get me a shot.”

“Now, we’re talking! Bartender, two shots, please!”

He watches the girl across the room as his friend orders the shots. His heart skips a beat as he sees her glance over his way. Unless he’s seriously mistaken, he could have swore she just smiled at him.

“Here’s your shot, buddy.”

Without hesitation, he grabs the shot glass and pounds it, then slams the glass back down on the table.

It’s now or never.

He takes one more glance at the girl before taking a deep breath, and then walking straight towards her. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest; it’s so loud that he wonders if maybe she’ll even hear it. He’s halfway there, and by this time the girl seems to know what’s happening. She watches him as he makes his way over towards her.

He keeps repeating over and over in his head: Destiny. What else would have brought this girl to this bar tonight? This lowly, rundown bar in this small town that people rarely go to. There’s no doubt in his mind that it wasn’t a coincidence… that they both came to this bar for a reason. Destiny.

Here goes nothing. After six months of unhappiness, today is undoubtedly the day that he will be reborn.

He sits down in the empty seat next to the girl, and smiles. He already knows what he’s going to say.

“Hi… I couldn’t help but notice you from – “

“No thank you.”

No thank you? That’s not what she’s supposed to say…

“I… I beg your pardon…?”

“I have a boyfriend. But thanks.”

“Oh… right. Of course. Have a good night…’

The dream ends.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Another Story From My Childhood.

It’s snowing! Hope everyone managed to stay warm during the blizzard. But I wonder… why is it that the world panics every time there is a snow storm? Everyone runs to the store to load up on food and supplies, and there is nonstop coverage of it all over television. It’s fucking snow… not a coming apocalypse.

But hey, because of the blizzard, many people did not have to go to school or work today. I know this because everybody rushed to update their facebook status to notify the world that they had an off-day. So thank you people for that, I don’t know how I would have made it through my day without knowing that.

But I digress.

So anyway, my blog entry the other day got me thinking about other unfortunate incidents that occurred during my younger years. I thought of one in particular that still resonates in my mind.

Allow me to begin by saying that girls complain about many things that guys never have to go through in their lifetime: Menstruating, pregnancy, PMS, just generally being moody bitches, etc. But, I can tell you one thing that girls will never have to worry about, and for that they are lucky: Being kicked in the balls.

Obviously no man will ever know what it is like to give birth, but if I had to guess, it has to be fairly similar to getting kicked in the balls. I can’t even begin to explain how much it hurts. It’s not so much the initial blow as it is the after-feeling. For a good several minutes your world just shatters. You lose all hope in everything, and you just want to die so that the pain will end.

I have experienced this.

Here’s the story: I was in middle school – seventh grade to be exact. In my school, whenever it was a girl’s birthday, it was her friends’ jobs to decorate her locker with wrapping paper and balloons and other crap. It’s pretty fucking stupid, but it’s what people did. Also, the birthday girl would walk around with balloons attached to her backpack.

So, I’m leaving class one particular day, and I’m walking with my friend. We are walking directly behind a girl whose birthday it was, and thus had balloons on her backpack. This girl was fucking weird, and if I had to guess where she is right now, I’d say she went and joined some satanic cult that worships the devil. Anyhow, so we’re walking, and my friend starts tapping on the balloons on this girl’s backpack. He wasn’t doing it maliciously, just joking around, none of us were actually on bad terms with this girl at the time.

But I don’t know, she must have been having a horrible day, or something… because she did not react well to it. I, in no way shape or form, was partaking in the balloon tapping… though I did not discourage my friend; I merely watched with amusement. So this girl, clearly having had enough, turns around, and  – apparently thinking that I was the one hitting her balloons – she looks me directly in the eye… and what happened next seemed to happen in slow motion: before I could even say a word, she cocks back her leg, then proceeds to swing it forward with as much force as she could possibly muster. I look down as I see her foot heading straight for my groinal area. There was nothing I can do. Inches away, I closed my eyes and brace myself for the blow. And then… contact.

…Somewhere, off the coast of some distant land… a butterfly lands on a nearby leaf. It flaps its wings, flicks its antennae, and scours the area for food. Upon spotting a daisy, it springs from the leaf and flutters over to the flower, landing on its pedal. Slowly, the butterfly begins to satiate itself by sucking the nectar from the daisy. Having eaten enough, the butterfly takes off, flapping its wings and buzzing along with the other sounds of nature as it flies off into the distance…

Three million miles away in Bellmore, Long Island… I return to consciousness while lying in the middle of a crowded hallway, clutching my private area in fear that it may never be functional ever again. There is a pain that resonates all throughout my body, and I can barely even  breathe. However, using all the strength I could possibly gather, I crawl on my hands and knees to the nurse’s office, which conveniently was located in the same hallway that this incident took place in.

I stumble in, and am able to spout off enough words to describe what had just occurred.

“Kicked… down here… Very painful…”

The nurse, sympathetic towards my situation, instructs me to lie down and hands me an ice-pack. She tells me that all I could do is wait patiently for the pain to subside, and that I should be alright. After a good twenty minutes of lying motionless, I begin to feel slightly better. The nurse asks me who is responsible for committing such a heinous act, and I gladly tell her. Finally, when I am able to stand, I am told that I can return to my next class. With my pride and ego shattered, I (very carefully) walk to my next class.

I found out later that the girl would receive detention for three days. A small victory, but a punishment that does not fit the crime. However, as a firm believer in karma, I believe that she will indeed get hers one day… if she has not already.

Fortunately, all injured body parts would heal and are still fully functional. I am still a very able man, so need not worry. However, I will never forget the day when my manhood took a devastating hit, and could have potentially put an end to the possibility of there ever being little Weingrads around to roam this Earth.

Scary thought indeed.

Valentine’s Day Isn’t Real.

So Valentine’s Day is just five days away. Yayyyyyy! Whoop-dee-motherfucking-doo! What a made-up holiday. We have all officially been manipulated by Hallmark to believe that February the 14th has actual significance.

Who benefits from this day?? Single people hate it, because it reminds them that they are alone. Girls more than guys, naturally. As for people in relationships, Valentine’s Day is the worst nightmare for men. You are forced to spend a ton of money, and if you don’t… you’re an asshole. It’s probably the most egregious thing you can do to not acknowledge Valentine’s Day. If you’re gonna do that, you might as well just cheat on her with her best friend.

As for the girls in relationships, they are really the lone beneficiaries. But even then, they just start comparing with their other girl friends what they received for the holiday from their significant other, and then it becomes a competition. They’re never happy.

And what about those awkward couples, like when you’ve only been on like four dates? What is the protocol for that? What about a girl you’re just hooking up with? What about a girl you’re secretly in love with? Are you supposed to use the day to let them know how you feel? Yea, way to be original, jackass.

Valentine’s Day can cause A LOT of problems.

The biggest beneficiaries from this day, as I stated before, is Hallmark. Because whatever you get her, you have to get a goddamn card. Hallmark salivates whenever February is just around the corner, because they know a million saps are going to walk into their stores and pick up cards created with such little effort that a chimpanzee could have written them.

I could just see the meetings that take place at hallmark come Valentine’s Day…

Bob: Alright guys, Valentine’s Day is right around the corner. It’s time to put on your thinking caps. We need some romantic lines, and the cornier the better. I want shit that girls will eat right up. Alright, whaddya got? Mitch… how about you?

Mitch: Umm… how about… ‘I Love you’

Bob: Brilliant, Mitch. Brilliant. You see guys, this is the stuff that girls go for. The simpler, the better.  Amy… whatcha got for me?

Amy: Hmm… ‘I Love You… Deeply’

Bob: Nice work, Amy… I like where this is going! Who’s next? Larry, keep the good vibes going!

Larry: ‘Will You Be My Valentine?’

Bob: What?! What the fuck Larry… I’m not gay. And I’m married… so no, I won’t be your Valentine.

Larry: No no no… Bob, That’s my idea for the card. It’ll say ‘Will You Be My Valentine?’

Bob: Oh… right… of course. I knew that. Good, good. Was just testing you… who’s next?

Susie: ‘You – ‘

Bob: *Cuts her off* Fucking genius, Susie! Did you hear that folks?! There it is… that will be our number one best seller!

Susie: But I wasn’t finished…

Bob: But it’s perfect. It’s short, simple… and it tells all you need to know. “You!” What else do you need? I want 10,000 copies printed by 5:00 today. Alright, Spencer… you haven’t spoken in a while… what’s your idea?

Spencer:  *stands up, clears his throat and talks in a detached voice while staring absentmindedly into the distance* “ My dearest Valentine… I would tell you that I love you, but the word ‘Love’ does not do justice in describing the way I feel about you. My heart leaps, my breath quickens, and my head lightens at the very thought of you. When I’m with you, all I can think about is that I am the only person in the world right now that is standing right beside you. And because of that simple fact, I consider myself the luckiest man in the entire world. I used to go about my days thinking that when I went to sleep at night I had accomplished so much. But until I met you, I realized that my life did not have any meaning. Now when I go to sleep, the last thing I think about before I fall asleep is you, and even when I dream… I still cannot escape you. I always thought I was happy, but the day that you walked into my life, I instantly realized that I never knew the true meaning of that word. Because I can never truly be happy unless I am with you. There are very few things that I am sure of in this world, but I have never been more sure of what I am currently feeling in my heart. You inspire me to be the best that I can possibly be, and I promise you that not a day will go by for the rest of eternity where I will not love you with all my heart and soul…


Bob: …What the fuck was that, Spencer?

Spencer: Love.

Bob: It was horseshit! Biggest piece of crap I have ever heard! Get the hell out of here, you’re fired!

*Spencer walks out of the room*

Bob: Holy crap… that’s the kind of shit that will put us out of business! Wow… somebody, salvage this meeting, quickly!

Robert: How about… ‘Be mine.”

Bob: Thank god… I knew I could count on you, Robert.  “Be mine!” How does your mind create these beautiful words?

Robert:  It just happens.

Bob: Holy crap… what did you just say??

Robert: …it just happens?

Bob: And that’s it, folks. Our new catchphrase. “It… Just… Happens” Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic! Print that on the front page of our website. It’ll be the new Valentine’s Day slogan! Robert, you get a promotion!

Robert: Cool.

Bob: Alright, everyone. Get back to work… we’re gonna make a fortune this Valentine’s Day! Bwahahahahahahahahahahahaha