My Simplistic Review Of The Smart Watch

Samsung, Sony, and Apple are all in the process of releasing a smart watch, because our sun tanned wrists are just begging for that albino skin patch to reappear when not wearing one.

The watch market has been declining rapidly over the last couple of years with everyone using their cell phones to keep time, as well as display the weather, play games, look at porn, and update Facebook…basically everything a watch can’t do.

The Contenders:

Samsung Galaxy Gear

Sony SmartWatch 2 (I think it’s a bad design for a watch if you have to hold it in your palm…wait…what? Oh, nevermind…that was just for this picture.)

The Apple iWatch  released just minutes before the Apple iWatch 2 and 3 is unveiled.

Let’s take a minute and go down memory lane…remember the calculator watch?

How scientific!

Or the game watch?

If I remember right, it was as big as your head.

Or how about the WTF watch?

The watch for douche bags. You don’t know how to read it, but it gets people to notice you and then ask you how to read it. Which just makes you look at someone else’s watch for the correct time.

From the initial reports the smart watch has to work in conjunction with your phone, so I don’t really see the point. It let’s you know when you missed a phone call from the phone that most likely is in your pocket…ringing…or vibrating…or vibrating and ringing…or has a dead battery…

Changing the face of the watch using a Galaxy Note 3. (My next phone! Want!)

Moving on.

You can do what you might expect it to do, play music, update Facebook/Twitter, check email, view the weather instead of looking out the window…and take pictures. Some of the smart watches allow you to use it as a phone with a blue tooth headset on, and we all know how special the people who use those day in and day out look.

The camera on the Samsung version is in the wrist band so that you can take pictures while looking like a posed Power Ranger without the Power Ranger outfit. Actually I don’t know if you have the outfit on or not. I apologize for assuming the latter.

The watches will range in the $300 range which is a little pricey for a watch unless your a rapper.

I got your SmartWatch bitch! (Why do you suppose this picture is taken in the bathroom?!)

One advantage the traditional watch has over the Smart Watch, the traditional watch battery can last years, whereas the Smart Watch battery is hoping to get 26 hours.

One advantage the Smart Watch has over the traditional watch, technology is cool!

Coffee – A Short Musical

Sing this to the tune of Lady GaGa’s “Applause”:I live for the reblog, reblog, reblog
I live for the reblog-blog
Live for the reblog-blog.
It’s Coffee week on Long Awkward Pause and this is my rambling on the subject. Not a fan of this, then you can check out my good friends Rants, Justin, and Monk Monkey on the same subject. And if you still don’t like that, check out my other good friends Chowderhead, Cordelia, Mike, and Len as they take on Hollywood later this month!

Curtain opens to a minimalist setting. A man dressed in a three piece suit sits at a table sipping a cup of coffee. His name is Ralph.

Ralph: (Calling off stage) Honey…Honey I’m out of coffee. Can you brew some more? (pause) Honey?

Lucy: (From off stage) Ralph! That’s your seventh cup already! Do you really want more?!

Ralph: (looking towards audience, raises cup and smiles) Yes! I can’t get enough of this stuff. (Cue music)

The stage is cleared of the table as Ralph stands up. In from stage left comes a dancing coffee pot, spoon, coffee cup, saucer, sugar cubes, a k-cup, and a creamer. 

Ralph: (singing)

Coffee, Coffee, You are my love and my life

Whether your dark or just dreamy creamy

I will drink you anywhere

Even in the shower all soapy steamy

Coffee, Coffee, You taste good night and day

I would even drink you…

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If Taylor Swift Wrote About Real Life

McDonald’s Story

Standing in line waiting to order a burger

Your register girl is slow like a tumor

She doesn’t even know what a number 2 combo is

A number 2 is

The next thing I know

A wet floor cone is on the floor

I see no spill

So I walk around it

Walk around it

Chorus 1:

I ordered a 10 piece

You gave me 9 pieces

Where’s my Bar-B-Que?

It doesn’t look like the picture

Is this even real cheese?

This is my McDonald’s story

 

I look at the fry carton, it’s only half full

Just ’cause I’m skinny

Doesn’t mean I don’t like french fries

I like french fries

The drive through is backed up

People are screaming

Problem is the manager is only 14

He is only 14

Chorus 2:

I ordered a 10 piece

You gave me 9 pieces

I ordered a milkshake

You gave me a smoothie

Ronald kind of scares me

This is my McDonald’s story

 

 

 

Dear…Sincerely

Dear Candy Crush,

Playing Level 65 a thousand times without beating it is not fun!

Sincerely,

Not Spending Any Money On Charms You Bastard!

—–

Dear 6 Year Old,

I’m changing my name so you can’t call it a million times an hour.

Sincerely,

Mxyzptlk-ya-gowkza (Formally Known As Dad)

—–

Dear Game Of Thrones,

All you have done is talk for 9 episodes, and now we are going to make it exciting?!

Sincerely,

Smells Like Boardwalk Empire

—–

Dear Fart,

Your timing sucks!

Sincerely,

She Is Not Impressed With My Lovemaking Skills

—–

Dear Lazy People,

TV Remotes, Dishwashers, Car Clickers, ATMs, Cell Phones, Sporks

Sincerely,

The Spork Is Underrated

—–

Dear Iphone 6,

We have already released our phone so you could copy the features and make everyone buy new phones again. You’re welcome.

Sincerely,

Galaxy 4s

—–

Dear TV Executives,

Sleepy Hollow, Hannibal, Bates Mates…recycling at it’s best.

Sincerely,

That Does Nothing To Save The Planet

—–

Dear Three Blind Mice,

Sorry to hear your tails got cut off.

Sincerely,

1-800-Find-A-Lawyer

—–

Dear Eminem,

It would be cool if you were a TV advertising spokesperson. Just saying.

Sincerely,

M&M’s

—–

Dear Every Light On In The House,

Kids…Why? Is This Necessary?

Sincerely,

Thanks For Making Me Sound Like My Dad

High School Musical Reunion (minus the Musical) Pt One

I’m about to date myself.

I don’t mean I was going to take myself out on a date, I haven’t had to do that since High School.

Speaking of  High School, my 25th Renioun is coming up.

I’m thinking about going since I didn’t go to the 5th year renioun…or the 10th, 15th, 17 1/2, or 20th High School Reunions.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about going to be honest. I can’t say High School was all that fun, or enjoyable, or even defined me as a person.

The first year and an half down right sucked.

I’m not sure I want to rub elbows 25 years later with people who used to stick gum in my hair and knock the books out of my hands while I was walking to class.

Ha, ha, guy who did that to me, scatering my books and notebook papers all over the hallway….

Good one.

Everyday…

…good one.

My High School was a big wrestling High School, and if you didn’t wrestle….well, you were not cool.

I didn’t have the competive spirit, nor the body, nor the stomach for sticking my face in some other kid’s junk, to really want to wrestle.

My talents lied elsewhere, like being rejected by girls.

I was really talented at that.

At least this was justly deserved, as I was a big old nerd…with a nerd’s haircut, nerd braces, nerd’s slouch, freckles, and my only impressive skill: folding notecards into frogs.

Which to preteen/teenage girls…not that impressive.

So for that, my books and notebook paper would be scattered on a daily basis in the hallways of my Alma Mater.

As well as they should.

Right?

If the wrestlers thought about it though, not really a good recuitment campaign to get me on the blue wrestling tights band wagon. I’m glad that  recuitment companies in the real world don’t use that same technique.

That would be really weird.

I pretty sure if I had joined the wrestling team, I would have had my ass handed to me, plus I’m a little nervous about heights, and I wouldn’t ever be able to do a flip off the top rope.

Which, I’m being told there is no ropes in High School Wrestling, so I guess that was not a valid excuse.

I did sit on the bench of the Freshman Basketball team to try to up my High School sports cred.

It didn’t work.

To be honest…everyone made the Freshman Basketball team.

I sucked so bad at Basketball. I really deserved to ride the bench. I was a pro at riding the bench though. I knew where to sit so as to not get any splinters in my bum, I could take a big swig of water from the sports bottle like I had just played hard…even though I didn’t, and I could cheer and get into a big game hudle with the rest of the team like I was important to the chances of winnig or losing.

I wasn’t.

If and this was a big if….I made it onto the basketball court during game time…like usually the last 30 seconds of the game, and you passed the ball to me, I would probably either:

A) Dribble it until it was stolen from me

B) Pass it right back quickly like we were playing hot potato

C) Shoot it towards the basket, having it fall three feet short of the net.

 

I ran up and down the court like a boss though. And my basketball sneakers were always clean and my socks were always knee high.

So, I turned to theater. Which I also failed miserably. In the fall we had a drama and in the spring we had a musical.

I can’t sing, so in the spring I would end up in the chorus. Sometimes there would be speaking parts in the musicals that didn’t require you to sing, but those always went to the same guy. As a matter of fact, most of the parts in any production we did went to the same people. I would get little tiny parts with one or two lines, which I would rewrite to be funnier or ad lib something during a performance. My enhancements would go over pretty well and the drama teacher would let me keep my new versions, but I’m pretty sure she would have rather me stick to the script.

I’m a more off the cuff type of actor, which eventually lead to me joining an improv troop much later in life, but that’s a whole different set of stories.

The only good thing that I got out of the drama department was I got to snuggle with some of the girls while I was waiting to deliver my one line.

I felt sorry for my parents. They sat through an entire season of basketball watching me and the bench become one. Then they had to sit through 2 hour High School plays of really bad acting so that could hear me say my one ad libbed line.

At the very end they were more than supportive,

“You were great as Soldier No. 4. You really nailed it! So much better than last year when you were Village Peasant No. 2!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I basically injected my lines myself, otherwise they would have been watching me just stand on stage for two hours doing nothing like the wooden trees built by the stage crew.

So scoring big zeros in sports and drama, I tried Art. One of the guys I went to school with could draw cars really, really well. Come to think of it, he could only draw one kind of car really, really well. Which he drew over. And over. And over.

And I don’t think it was an actual in production car. I think it was a bunch of different styles of cars mashed into his ultimate “cool” car creation.

My hand at drawing was simplistic at best. Stick figures having sex mostly. I learned to draw eyes pretty good though…not whole faces mind you…just eyes.

Art was out.

For my music venture, I tried Guitar. I was in the church guitar group for awhile and thank God there was four other guitars to cover up the horrible sounds coming from my instrument. I couldn’t read music nor play any cool rock songs. I was able to successfully get my pick stuck in the guitar hole quite a bit, thus turning the guitar into maraca. If I was smart, I should have invented the Guitaca.

Maybe I still will. I just copyrighted Guitaca(tm) before any of you guys get any ideas.

I left High School with no intentions to look back. College was a much, much better experience.

So what really brought on these ponderings?

A guy from my High School wants to friend me on Facebook. He was neither mean nor nice to me, but he hung out with the book slappers. I remember once he snapped the bra of a big boobed girl in class one day.

I thought that was cool. I wanted to do that so bad, but…you know…not a cool kid.

It wasn’t all bad. Things started turning around towards the end of Freshman year.

I’ll tell why in part two.

Reblog Thursday Pt 27

Reblog Thursday with a tale of young love. All I can say is, I like pizza and music too.

The 2012 Lists

I would just like to share some of my favorite 2012 things:

(These are complied in no particular order)

My Favorite Letters From 2012: 

1) E

2) L

3) @

4) J

5) D

 

My Favorite Wines Of 2012: 

1) Justin Cabernet

2) Fat Bastard Shiraz 

3) Oakleaf Merlot (When money’s tight…don’t judge)

4) Elephant on a Tightrope Cabernet

5) Anything anyone else buys for me

 

My Favorite Types Of Wine Glasses Of 2012:

1) Long Stemmed

2) Hello Kitty Cup (when all the wine glasses are dirty)

 

My Favorite TV Shows Of 2012:

1) Walking Dead

2) Community

3) Breaking Bad

4) True Blood

5) Game Of Thrones

6) Walking Dead Reruns

7) Tabletop

 

My Favorite Bands Of 2012:

1) Crystal Fighters

2) Grouplove

3) When all the kids get together and play rock band without fighting

4) Deep Cotton

5) Dead Man’s Bones

 

My Favorite Writers Of 2012:

1) Kevin Smith

2) La La

3) Chuck Palahniuk

4) Rodney Lacroix

5) Me! (I got published this year!)

 

My Favorite Phone Apps Of 2012:

1) Tweetcaster

2) Plague Inc

3) Amazon App Store

4) Google Music

5) Evernote

 

My Favorite Types Of Window Blinds Of 2012:

1) Vertical

2) Wooden Blinds

3) Stevie Wonder

4) Honeycomb

 

My Favorite Numbers in the actual number of 2012:

1) 2

2) 0

3) 1

4) two

 

My Favorite Bloggers in 2012 Who Actually Don’t Have Blog:

1) Spiderman

2) Spiderman’s Disgruntled Not-As-Famous Half Brother

3) Nickelback’s Drummer

4) Michael Jackson’s Ghost

 

My Favorite Vitamins/Herbs Of 2012:

1) Ginseng

2) Raspberry Ketones

3) Flintstone

4) Viagra

5) B12

 

My Favorite Sleeping Positions Of 2012:

1) On My Right Side

2) On My Left Side

3) On My Back

4) On My Stomach

5) Spitting Cobra

 

My Favorite Snacks Of 2012:

1) Pretzels

2) Smoothies

3) Pretzel Smoothies

4) Sun Chips

5) Cabernet Sauvignon

 

My Favorite Prices Of Scratch Off Lottery Tickets Of 2012:

1) $1

2) $5

3) $20 Christmas Limited Millionaire Edition

4) Free 

 

My Favorite Sizes Of Fountain Drink At The Gas Station Of 2012:

1) Large

2) Medium

3) Souvenir 

 

My Favorite Grades Of Gasoline Of 2012:

1) 89

2) 93

3) Diesel

4) Vin Diesel

 

My Favorite Board Games Of 2012:

1) Dixit

2) Gorilla Dice

3) Pandemic

 

My Favorite Random Sounds Of 2012:

1)Aweeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

2) Ogo Ogo

3) Ahhh Chooooisk

 

 

 I always like to take away one thing learned from the past year.

 

This year of 2012 I have learned that if you nickname your penis: “Old Bilbo”, you will probably never have sex again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

It’s Christmas time once again, the streets are trimmed with tinsel and lights, the children are laughing and making their lists. Grandma and Grandpa are making their home made hot chocolate in both kid friendly and “Grandpa’s Snoring Medicine” versions. The babies are discovering for the first time the joys of Rankin and Bass Christmas specials while candy canes poke from their mouths. Their sticky fingers leaving prints on the glass table. Aunts and Uncles are preparing wonderful festive side dishes to bring to the big family feast. In the meantime the most succulent turkey is filling the kitchen with smells of tradition, and Christmas past, and hope of the coming year. Mom is wearing her Christmas apron which is dusted from flour of a thousand cookies that are cooling by the sink. She laughs at the mess of bowls with left over cookie dough stuck to the side, and licked clean spatulas, whisks, and measuring cups scattered to and fro. The sounds of holiday music fill the air, both timeless and familiar, where everyone knows the words to every song.

I sit in my favorite chair with my favorite pipe, and hand stroking my chin, looking at the joyous abundance of family and friends. I reflect on this Christmas and Christmas of past, and come to this very profound and very true realization:

Santa…

You’re a dick!

I mean who do you think you are?! I worked and sweated and paid for all of this shit…and YOU get the credit?! What the hell?? Seriously! You have done jack shit except hock Cola products and wave in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with your glued on beard half falling off. In the meantime I have stressed and slaved to bring everyone, everything their little greedy hearts desired, despite the fact that December’s bills don’t go away. Why do I have to do this? Because you, my mythical non-existing friend, with your tales of god damn Christmas miracles have deemed it. Yet you don’t contribute one red cent to this incredible unrealistic pipe dream you have bestowed upon my children! Thanks fat man for that! Now I’m spending my lunch breaks eating only carrot sticks in order to be able to afford that $400 bike Little Timmy has always wanted because he “believes in you”!

My favorite is come Christmas morning, after 3 months of scraping and planning, which only lasts for about 10 minutes by the way, is how everyone thanks YOU!

Thank you Santa.

YOU. DID. NOTHING!

I did EVERYTHING!

I understand I gave you the credit since the beginning of my children’s verbal understanding of all things, but that is kind of been forced on me by society. It’s really a vicious cycle that has been going on for god knows how long…

Santa you’re a dick!

I could rant on and on, but instead I composed this song.

It’s called: Santa You’re A Dick

(Sung in the key of G*)

Santa, You’re A Dick

You get all the credit

You prick

I spend the moneys

You get the honeys

And your red suit

Makes me sick

 

Chorus:

Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick

Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick

Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick

Because Santa

You’re A Dick!

 

The Bridge:

I slave and I save

And my children don’t appreciate it

They don’t understand my sacrifice

All they know come Christmas morn

Is all the presents wrapped up nice

 

Chorus:

Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick

Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick

Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick

Because Santa

You’re A Dick!

 

(guitar solo)

(drum solo)

(bullroarer solo)

 

Your story makes no sense

With reindeer, trees, and ribbons

And a Jewish dentist 

Which I don’t get in my defense

So shove off dear Santa

Don’t shed a tear

I’m taking the credit

This year

 

Chorus:

Santa, Santa, You’re A Dick

Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick

Dicky, Dicky, Dick, Dick, Dick

Because Santa

You’re A Dick!**

 

This will be performed by Willie Nelson and the ghost of Michael Jackson and released on Bitter Records. 

 

*I’m not musically inclined. I really don’t know what that means.

**Not really mad at Santa, it’s just for comedy purposes. Please don’t bring me coal Santa! I’ve been good. I have!

6 Dollar T-Shirts (dot) com

I’m a big fan of T-Shirts and the weirder the better…or with the word Irish on it.

Either one.

Should you find a weird T-Shirt with the word Irish on it, without a Leprechaun or the words Notre Dame, let me know…I want it.

I was looking for a Heisenberg T-Shirt, which if you don’t know who that is, shame on you! You are missing out on one of the greatest television programs in the history of television programs; Breaking Bad. It’s on Netflixs.

I came across this web site: http://www.6dollarshirts.com.

As in the title, all shirts are indeed $6, however they are kind of dicks on the shipping. I bought two shirts and the shipping was almost $7.

On an unrelated note, Christmas is coming if…you know…if you were looking for something to buy a certain T-Shirt wearing person who happens to be typing these words. (Don’t buy the Heisenberg T-Shirt, I already bought it.)

My new $6 shirt.

Some other good choices:

Jesus on a dinosaur. How could you go wrong?

A Narwhale playing a Keytar. Not sure why…don’t care. I need this!

The Oregon Trail was always a dick with the dysentery.

Pink Freud…too easy? I still want.

This is the perfect t-shirt for someone to ask you, wtf?

Poor Stormtrooper, lost his droid seeking friends…

Stay Puff Marshmallow Man and Godzilla together? Genius!

If you buy one for me, I will pose in the shirt for you. (Pants optional. XXL please. I’m not fat, just bad at laundry.)

Reblog Thursday Pt 16

Let’s Party, Fiesta…come on and sing this song…Come check out the Brother Jon…

I think that’s how the song goes…Happy Reblog Thursday!