The Whet Whitch Whistler

"Why speak when you can blow?!" -Helen Keller

[whetwhitchwhistler]

i have had a smartphone for just under 1 year; but after going without one for over 60 hours i realize i am nothing but human filth without one. smartphone is life. if you don’t have smartphone, you are dead.

or you are a smartphone, in which case, you are god and i bow to you.

without smartphone, i was forced to use my oven timer as an alarm clock. setting it had me seriously contemplating just putting my pillow in it and going to bed in there. forever. i missed smartphone.

without smartphone, i was forced to use my laptop to see when the next bus was coming. and then when i was outside waiting for it, i couldn’t check to see if it was on time. and with all that anxiety of not knowing, i just wanted to look at all my unused data to calm myself but i was without smartphone. which meant i was using less data. but should you feel pride in not using data when you can’t use data? that’s like a vegetarian feeling pride for not eating meat because they are allergic to meat.

are people allergic to meat? homophobes? lol.

without smartphone, i couldn’t snapchat a picture of a used condom i saw on the ground. and now i’m worried that means the condom was ineffective and someone’s pregnant.

without smartphone, i couldn’t look up whether my above fear made any sense!

without smartphone, i had to ask people what time it was. like, to their face.

without smartphone, i made A LOT of eye contact. eyes are fucking weird, man.

without smartphone, my cat and i barely interacted. she was all like, “just tweet me, bitch.” and i was like, “on an actual computer?! is that a thing?”

without smartphone, pooping just felt more dirty cause there was no distracting myself from the filth that was falling from my body. pooping is grosser than i remember. and hella boring.

without smartphone, i am...? lemme look it up, cause i have new smartphone.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

during my 2nd dead show, i did not have service, which meant no tweeting. instead i used my memo app and wrote “tweets” down for later. i am the worst type of person, but i wrote down some good stuff:

-grateful dead themed prom.

-is grateful dead music sex music? i think so...

that was all i got, but i think those are 2 really solid ideas.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

It’s not a coincidence, it’s God. And God is dead.

In 4 days I saw the the closest thing we currently have to the Grateful Dead twice. I also saw God. I am dead.

Show No. One: Madison Square Garden

miracle #1 (although i didn’t know it at the time): i won tickets to the free Dead and Company show (featuring John Mayer) (oh la la, ladies;)). i assumed this was just some good old fashion “sorry about everything else” karmic evening out. little did i know it was God’s plan.

arriving at MSG there were multiple bongo circles. i thought “what a lovely, albeit stoopid, community.” i was like those pagans that saw jesus hangin’ out and were like “that’s cute.”

the 40-65 year old dudes i was sitting next to were the best. their topics of conversation varied from best years of shows to worst type of addictions to how astrology will affect the show that night to the adverse affects of the “dithering digital” on the waves, man. they were incredible.

miracle #2: one of the people i was sitting next to was from Durango. that’s where my sister was born and my aunt lives. i would call this a coincidence, but these dudes are not believers in coincidence; they are believers in the universe, man.

the older gentlemen gave John the stamp of approval, so i think he might be a saint now? i’m not sure how the church works yet.

Show No. Two: The Greatest City in America (Worcester)

miracle #3: i randomly get section 201 for show #1. THEN i randomly get section 202 for show #2. there is no coincidence, there is only God and it is dead.

miracle #4: i sit next to some dudes from Cleveland, which is where my mom is from. this miracle combined with miracle #1 means we got a double miracle on our hands - i.e. the skull from above is talking.

miracle #5: i thought i wore my “I <3 DC” t-shirt for the tie-dye, but then i realized “DC” really stands for “Dead [and] Company”.

knock, knock.

Hello, who it be?

it be me, G.O.D.

i have never been religious. i don’t know if i ever believed in God. i do believe in ghosts. and now i believe in the dead. goodbye.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

Tips on Packing and Preparing for a “What’s left of the Grateful Dead and also John Mayer” concert

Tomorrow I will be attending a Dead and Co (featuring John Mayer) show at Madison Square Garden. I have barely listened to the Grateful Dead and the only thing I like about John Mayer was him on Chappelle’s Show. I have also never been to Madison Square Garden.

Those are the reasons I believe I am qualified to provide some tips on packing and preparing for the show. I am an outsider.

1. start packing... A BOWL!!! (lol)

2. find a youtube playlist of all John Mayer and Grateful Dead. if that weirdly doesn’t already exist, make it. you got time.

3. wake up form your impromptu nap. no worries man, we all do it.

4. grab a bag of chips - this is going to take some energy, you need to carbo-load!

5a. you’ve finished the playlist, congrats! but this means you didn’t nap! be careful, you’ll need to be well rested.

5b. didn’t get to that playlist? no problem man - just give up and play any music.

6. start packing... A BOWL!!!!!!

7. now is the perfect time to decide your outfit for the show. be creative. and remember, everyone there will be pretty disgusting (in a good way!).

8. let’s see what you picked out - hey, dude, WAKE UP. okay, now stand up. turn around. wow, i really like the use of fringe. where’d you even get those boots?! i do think you should probably lose the “Hey Jerry Garcia - I’m Grateful (you’re) Dead!” t-shirt. may i suggest something tie-dye?

9. okay, now that the outfit has been decided, let’s start packing...FOR REAL. god, dude, you’ll smoke more later, do not worry.

10. done packing? reward yourself and start packing...(now say it with me)A BOWL!

 11. your train leaves in 16 hours - better get to bed! you need at least 13 hours of sleep!

12. hit the snooze a few times - you gave yourself some extra time last night, you can afford 14 hours of sleep!

13. drag yourself out of bed - don’t worry, you’ll have time to sleep on the train.

14. like obviously, get high.

15. make sure your overweight cat has enough food for 30 hours. oh, she’s so fat no amount of food is enough? that must be a bit of a financial burden? oh, you still love her? no, no i don’t need to see any pictures. oh yea, she’s cute.

16. grab yo’ shit and go.

17. don’t sleep on the bus! this is how you missed that Menudo show!

18. get on the train - in this scenario you’re doing amtrak. also in this scenario you won these tickets in a raffle that you were too drunk to remember entering. so you can treat yourself and take amtrak instead of the bus. also, you’re coming from boston. woah, these tips are for a pretty specific situation.

19. sleep on the train - but set your alarm, don’t want to end up in DC!

20. once in NYC - pizza.

21. another 2 slices, once again - CARBO-LOAD!

22. have a cool down slice.

23. get in line for the show. look at the people. who are they? what do they do in real life? how many of these people are grandparents? do you think there are more grandparents here than there are people under the age of 30? there are so many fucking grandparents. don’t fall asleep.

24. get in there. but don’t tell me what happens - i want to be surprised. just be sure to get really, really, really, really stoned!

25. tell the friend you’re staying with about your trip. mention all the sleeping.

26. your friend becomes concerned with all of the sleeping. she tells you to go to the doctor. you need to listen to her.

27. go to the doctor. you are sick. it’s wont kill you, but you need to make some changes, including getting rid of your cat.

28. mourn losing your cat.

29. smoke one our for the cat.

30. okay, now get ready, cause you’re doing all of this again in a few days - but this time you’re headed to the greatest city in the world - WORCESTER, MA!

[whetwhitchwhistler]

New York City is a Toilet

Not everyone has a toilet dream. But I have two.

I was in New York City and the place smelled like poo.

Which reminded me, I could really take a piss.

I opened the door to the loo and it was bliss.

The toilet was a pull-chain.

And i was gonna make it rain.

I dropped trow and....

I zipped up and pulled down. 

And all of the brown went around and around.

(Just kidding, I peed. I was at a work thing and was not about to poop. And honestly, I was constipated for, like, 2 days. Which is ironic, because of these toilet dreams I have. Anyways...)

Toilet dream number 1 had been achieved.

Dream number 2 was far away, I believed.

But destiny was like, “I got you.”

I was eating dinner, when, cut-to..

Someone goes pee and comes back with news.

She says the toilet’s a bidet and I smell ruse.

I’m like “I could go pee.”

But mostly I just wanted to see.

I opened the door and what do you know,

the toilet’s a bidet and I could blow.

(I’m talking about peeing, you weirdos. But I sat like a lady and pee. cause I had to see what this is about. Thing’s might get graphic.)

I take a squat and tuck my dick down.

a stream comes out - I’m in pee town.

I just don’t have to poop.

Still, i press the bidet button and WOOP.

That was definitely something.

The accuracy was awesome, got me right in the ring.

The temperature was warm and the pressure was just right. 

I felt like Goldilocks, but if she had gotten it on first sight.

At first I thought I was pooping, liquid and hot.

Much to my relief, I was not.

I was just being cleaned,

getting all primped and preened.

But enough is enough, I was starting to feel weird.

I stood up, faced the robot, paused... and then cheered.

Dream number 2 was complete,

and then i sent a tweet:

“I’ve done everything I needed to;

I can die now [skull emoji], I bid you adieu. [peace sign emoji][skull emoji][peace sign emoji][skull emoji][poop emoji]”

[whetwhitchwhistler]

the yellow wall(paper)

as someone who works in an office, my life-force is slowly eroding away. and it was petite to begin with! (not to brag ;)) other than the responsibility i have of taking care of my obese cat, the number 1 thing getting me through my days standing in front of a computer (yea, i’m workin’ a standing desk. and as someone using a standing desk, i must brag about this. i am dead inside.) was watching the construction taking place on the building across from mine. i’ve seen it go from normal office, to a gutted office, to an office almost identical to the one it started as. it’s been beautiful and life-affirming. again, i. am. dead. inside.

then something magical happened, they painted one of the rooms yellow. BRIGHT YELLOW. it was like the skies parted and the sun dove right in. it was the greatest thing to happen to me since i got Pam. i repeat, the greatest thing to happen to me in a year was the office building across from mine painted one of it’s walls yellow. i. am. dead. inside.

the bold choice had me pondering, what were they gonna do in there? were they gonna be one of those cool offices that has a nursery, cooly allowing their employees to work even more?! did the boss of the floor just love yellow? or maybe the boss is color blind and the construction guys knew this and are playing a prank on him/her?! or maybe there is new research about worker productivity and wall color and yellow motivates people? or maybe the world ran out of off-white paint? SO MANY QUESTIONS. SO MANY THEORIES.

but then, then something happened this morning.

i gazed across to my new home, to this beautiful yellow room, and it was gone. the bright yellow now covered with off-white. the color of lifelessness. the color of nothing. the color of life?

**

in 11th grade my English class was all about short stories. and the one that everyone in class loved the most was “The Yellow Wallpaper”. this was mostly cause our teacher had a really spot-on impression of the main character going insane. probably because of her own mental instability. but also, as hormonal teenagers in high school, we could all relate to someone going insane when locked in a room all day, everyday.

so after high school, i felt like i had escaped that yellow room. i was free. i could eat dessert whenever i liked, even though i’m not a big sweets person...so i guess it was more like i could eat chips whenever i liked (despite what my waistline says! lol jk). like, any kind of chips WHENEVER. chips for breakfast. chips for lunch. chips for 7 small snacks throughout the day. pizza for dinner. and, if i could stay awake, i could stay out until 2 or 3 in the morning. and i could have TWO different jobs! which meant working, like, 16 hours a day, 5 days a week. i was free.

and then i moved out of my parent’s house to an deluxe-apartment in the sky (a normal apartment on the 3rd floor). MORE FREEDOM. and now i didn’t work two jobs, BUT i had more bills to pay. I WAS FREE.

coming to work every morning, to the same desk. to stare at the same screen and see the same people. freedom.

freedom...ON OPPOSITE DAY. ADULTHOOD IS PRISON.

but when that wall was being painted yellow, it didn’t feel like prison. i began to feel free again. it gave me reason to think beyond my own walls and see the world with possibilities. they might be able to control me, but they can’t control that room. they can’t control everything. it was out there, and i could see it.

and then it was gone. but was it even there?

i...might be going insane. jk. lol.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

Jane Janes

As a young man now living on my own, completely self-sufficient (not counting using my parent’s netflix password) and thriving, I have decided to expand my horizons. For me, this means watching the Gilmore Girls (I also no longer have cable, so, like, what else am I gonna do?).

This journey is concurrent with my reading of Jane Austen’s complete collection, which I am almost done with. And after “reading” 4 of Jane Austen’s 6 books and watching 1.5 seasons of the Gilmore Girls, I have come to a realization. They are all the same.

Gilmore Girls = Jane Austen books.

And I’m not saying Gilmore Girls is simply inspired by Jane Austen. I am saying Jane Austen is the creator of the Gilmore Girls. I’m not sure what that means for Amy Sherman-Palladino; maybe she is Jane in disguise? Jane reincarnate? Possessed by Jane? She found Jane’s Gilmore Girls pilot pitch on her never-ending quest to find the first hat? Who knows? All I know is that Gilmore Girls is Jane Austen.

My reasons for this certainty:

1. The men in Gilmore Girls can all be described as particle board.

The men in Jane Austen books can all be described as cardboard.

They are all flimsy and boring as fuck and I don’t care about/like any of them.

2. Paris Geller, from Gilmore Girls, is just one of those female kind-of-bitchy, clearly smart, kind-of-antagonists from every Jane Austen book. They’re all unnecessarily mean, but we have compassion for them because they are women in a patriarchal society and their privilege is clearly damaging them in a severe and real way.

3. Speaking of privilege, Gilmore Girls is a story of a young mother who rejects her privilege and leaves home to raise her child in an idyllic town. She is very proud of herself for rejecting her privilege, but she seems really unaware that she retains almost all of her privilege. (bitch can afford a really nice house and has parents that can pay for private school and the entire town has a (non-sexual) boner for her)

In Jane Austen books, the main protagonists are always leaving home (either by choice or by the choice of others) for an idyllic, country homestead; they seem to abandon their very privileged lives only to live in big homes, with rich families, and eventually marry rich men. They always seem unaware that, while maybe not as rich as they were before, they still have advantages most women do not have.

It’s a lot of white girl ignorance. (as a white man, I can say this. Because I am a white man, so I can say what I want. lol.)

4. While mostly feminist, both the Gilmore Girls and Jane Austen women all seem to be set on finding a man to complete their lives. Even though, as said before, all the men in these worlds are basically just wooden statues.

5. Talking. Like, a lot of it.

6. They are both almost funny. I often find myself quietly saying “oh, that was funny.” while reading/watching. Saying “oh, that was funny.” does not mean something was fully funny.

7. Female relationships/friendships are important and complicated and interesting.

8. Families are also really complicated.

9. Finally, I get why Gilmore Girls and Jane Austen are enjoyed and celebrated, but, like, they’re mostly just really boring. I get what they’re trying to say, and why what they’re trying to say is important, and that I’m probably not the intended audience, but it doesn’t make either of them not boring.

I think that’s enough proof that Jane Austen is the true creator of Gilmore Girls.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

The Republican Presidential Candidates Dissected

Since I went to Vassar and work at a peace themed nonprofit, I often assume anyone that identifies as a Republican or conservative must be a supernatural creature. And with this current crop of Republican “presidential candidates”, I’m not convinced I’m not on to something. So as an amateur cryptozoologist, I am going to try to identify what supernatural creatures are hiding under each of these candidates’ skin sacks.

Donald Trump is a troll. He’s not even wearing a disguise (not counting the hair) - he’s just a straight up troll. And not a bridge troll, cause those things are somewhat intelligent (hence the riddle obsession). He’s more of a Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings troll - big, lumbering, stupid, angry, most likely impotent and definitely constipated.

Jeb Bush is a fairy, but not in a gay way (although, I wouldn’t be surprised). He’s a fairy because of they have a sense of entitlement and strong family connections. Fairy society is ruled by a monarchy, with the power passed down (not earned) through male heirs. They also love to nap in bushes, the leafy AND pubic type.

Ben Carson is a zombie. Because of the brains. Also, as a black Republican, he has to be at least a little dead inside.

Chris Christie is also a troll, but of the bridge variety. GET IT?!

Ted Cruz is a Wendingo, a cannibalistic monster from the northern US AND CANADA. TED CRUZ IS CANADIAN (where are Trump’s birthers?). And his face just SCREAMS “I have consumed human flesh.”

Carly Fiorina is not so much a supernatural creature as a creation of science fiction. She’s a robot, created by AT&T and perfected by Hewlett-Packard. This explains why she is hella boring.

Jim Gilmore is a golem created by Amy Sherman-Palladino when she was bored after Bunheads got cancelled. Then she lost control. But she’s not worried about him doing any real damage, because who the fuck knows about Jim Gilmore?

Lindsey Graham is a Medusa. I mean, have you seen that dude’s eyes, I get lost in those baby blues.

Mike Huckabee is just a swarm of bees. Bee’s aren’t that smart, hence the on the nose name.

Bobby Jindal is a mermaid. He lives in Lousianna for the floods. And his favorite movies are Splash and The Thirteenth Year.

John Kasich is...um...alive?

George Pataki is George Takei’s white, conservative alter-ego. (think Dr. Jekyll (Takei)/Mr. Hyde (Pataki))

Rand Paul is an elf. He’s got ‘dem ears and real inferiority complex from his dad. Classic elf.

Rick Perry is a Griffin. He named his son Griffith. I SEE WHAT YOU DID. NO FOOLIN’ ME!

Marco Rubio is a werewolf. If you’ve seen him inhale a rack of ribs, you’d get it. Also, HAVE YOU EVER SEEN HIM DURING A FULL MOON?!

Rick Santorum is a ghost. He died 200 years ago. That’s why everything he thinks and says has, at least, a touch of bigotry.

Scott Walker is just an amalgam of straight white male privilege. Like he’s got no soul. He’s just a skin sack filled with the hopes and dreams of those whose hopes and dreams are all but guaranteed.

So now that you’ve learned what each of these creatures are, I hope you make an informed decision and vote for Hillary or Bernie.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

i don’t even live there.

last weekend i feel like i really entered adulthood. i moved. to live alone. with my cat. and in that process i think i’ve learned a lot.

for instance, i learned moving is the worst thing to do in the world. at least, moving without hired help is the worst thing to do in the world. if i paid movers, i woulda just suckled on a mint julep all day and lounged on a couch. it would have been the best. i just want to be rich enough to be a bougie (southern?) asshole.

i also learned that for someone who prides himself on not caring about things or owning things or using things, i’ve got a fuck ton of things. even after throwing out a fair amount of things. i guess I GOT DEM THANGS.

i learned i can’t destroy a couch with just a hand saw (or my mind, YET). but i can destroy a bed frame with one. and that is a cathartic experience i recommend to everyone. i might want to open a store where you bring old furniture and you destroy it by hand.

i learned that if you sweat an incredible amount, you just never pee. and when you do pee, it’s mad yellow. this might just be me.

i learned Pam is useless.

i learned that some people think “lonely” and not “fat” when they first meet Pam.

i learned using a panini press as a stove top does not work great.

i learned having your bed on a bed frame and not lying on the ground is a game changer. i no longer look like i’m living in a meth den.

i learned i have an obsession for bad portraits of women from the late 19th to early 20th century. them bitches be scary sexy. (emphasis on the scary (and ignore the sexy))

i learned Pam loves her veggies, to my new plant’s detriment.

but the most important things i’ve learned have been about my new place’s previous tenant:

1. whoever this weirdo was, HE NEVER TURNED ON HIS GAS ONCE LAST YEAR. that means he never had a working oven and he never had heat. WHAT?!

2. whoever this weirdo was, he left a pair of cargo shorts behind, so he’s got mad style.

3. whoever this weirdo was, when i saw the place in May, the only piece of furniture he had in his place was a mattress on the floor. i didn’t think anything of it at the time, cause i was like “he’s moving soon, so he’s just already packed.” but it was May - people don’t pack 2.5 months in advance. this dude just only had a mattress.

WHO WAS THIS PERSON?!

now, since i’m already unpacked and shit, my only objective is to learn everything i can about this “human.” as much as i hate to, i’m gonna have to talk to my neighbors about him. see if they knew him. or if he was, like, some ghost. ghost is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. at first i thought he might have been cooking meth or something, but he didn’t have a stove, so that’s not it. and i can’t think of anyone else that just has a mattress on the floor.

and ghosts don’t need heat. they like it cold.

vampires also don’t need heat. and they don’t eat. BUT my apartment gets a lot of natural light (bragging), so that doesn’t seem possible.

i’m 70% sure the previous tenant was not human. maybe this place changes you. maybe i’ll become not human. #dreaming

this might be a case for the VC PI Dicks.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

i went to a gunther* concert

if you have an older sister, from new england, born between 1980-1992 you know about gunther. or if you’re from boston and/or go to tufts. what i’m trying to say, horrible people are fans of gunther. (not that those older sisters born between 1980-1992 are still horrible, just when they were at their worst  - teenagers/cunts - they chose to listen to gunther. gunther is not great.)

i went to a gunther concert this weekend. as the show ended, we were thanked for coming out - the show was free.

i went to a gunther concert and a substantial portion of the audience were baby boomers. this was confusing. but, like, moms love a deal...

i went to a gunther concert and the 2 best dancers were 2 of those baby boomers. it was sexy and confusing.

i went to a gunther concert really stoned and was confronted with a lot of realizations about the state of society.** free outdoor music concerts makes you think things. and also the weed.

i went to a gunther concert and legitimately enjoyed the extensive bongo playing. did i mention i was stoned?

i went to a gunther concert and met up with people 2+ years younger than me (born between 1992-1994) and felt like a baby boomer. it was not sexy but was confusing.

i went to a gunther concert and may have seen a ghost...

(an albino man, with a jheri curl, wearing a black suit with a black fedora is such a fucking look. and i love it. but it’s not necessarily what you want to see really stoned at a gunther concert. i’m sure i’ll see him again in my dreams/nightmares.)

i went to a gunther concert and when they started playing, i heard some guy behind me say “oh, hey, it’s gunther.” he gets it.

i went to a gunther concert and 2 white gurls rushed the stage, quietly danced around the band, then politely left. they don’t get it - but maybe they’ll get it...

i went to a gunther concert and it was, like, fine.

*guster

**long sense forgotten...

[whetwhitchwhistler]

A Guide: starting a bizness

less than 1 week into planning starting an etsy bizness, i think i can safely say i’m an expert. i mean, just check out my credentials:

 i’ve started shared google docs.

i’ve used the word “prototype”.

i bought flour.*

i wrote lists of other stuff i need to buy.

i have a bizness partner.

me and my bizness partner had a meeting.

yea, i think that’s enough proof that i know what i’m talkin’ ‘bout. so here’s my list of rules/steps for starting a bizness.:

1. ask yourself: what’s my bizness spirit animal? if yourself answers with the following animals, do not start a bizness - run and hide. NOW.

the “no-no” animals: armadillo, duck, griffin, tape worm, pizza monster.

2. brainstorm on what kind of bizness you want to get into. (remember, things like prostiution, drug trading, gun running, and slavery are generally illegal; so enter at your own risk.) spend no more than 6 consecutive hours on this. if nothing comes in that time, give up.

3. congratulations! you’ve made it this far. now is when things get intermediate...write your bizness idea down on a pillow. sleep on it. did you let it dry first? no, so your face is covered in paint? GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU FUCKING FUCK IDIOT.

i will not accept stupidity.

4. oh, i see you let it dry. remember, everything’s better when it’s dry.

now look at the pillow, can you see what you wrote there? do you remember writing that? does it still makes sense? if so, then congratulations! you weren’t as fucked up as i assumed.**

5. decide if you are going to need a bizness partner. signs you may need one:

you call yourself “creative” - this just means your “medication” will get in the way of you paying bills on time, so you need a clear head to keep you in the black.

you need someone to split costs with - this means what it means. you broke, muthafucka. don’t lead with that when approaching a bizness partner.

you’re lonely - this means you should get a bizness partner and also a therapist.

6. this one’s important - ONLY tell yourself and your bizness partner your bizness  idea. just you 1 and/or 2 should know this idea. keep it secret, keep it safe, don’t throw it in fire.

IF YOU TELL other people about your idea, they will steal it. people are untrustworthy and shady. if i could only do bizness with centaurs, trust me, i would. but this is a people world, and i live off people money.

once your bizness is started, then you can start telling people about it. that’s what we in the bizness call “marketing.” #biznessterm

7. SPEAKING OF WHICH, look up fancy bizness terms you can casually drop. this is especially important if you have a bizness partner - you ALWAYS want to look smarter than your partner.

8. start some google docs to brainstorm - FYI, THIS IS HOW HALL AND OATES WROTE MANEATER.

9. DO IT TO IT.

10. no big deal if this is where you made it, but be honest, you’re bankrupt, right? it’s fine - it happens to a lot of people. i mean it happened to donald duck. just remember, go with chapter 11 if you can.

and those are my steps to starting a bizness - see, it’s not that hard. that’s why so many people do it all the time. it’s actually making me worried the actual bizness part of the bizness will be the difficult part...WHATEVER. the world needs my product and they’re gonna get it - new slogan idea?

*this makes sense if you know what my bizness is - see rule #6

**most first time bizness people think they need to get shitty on heroin for their first big idea. this is a misconception, all you need is, like, 4 beers and weed.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

a weekend of LURV

if LURV is a battlefield, then there is a very bloody battle going on, cause LURV killt it this weekend. does that metaphor work?

or maybe the battle is over and the battlefield is cleared out, just littered with bloody corpses and lady nurses? or maybe LURV shot whoever LURV’s enemy is in the face on a battlefield? or it’s an old timey battlefield and the soldiers have stopped fighting for the night, so it’s all calm and peaceful?

pat benatar might be too smart for me...

what i’m trying to say with war and death metaphors is that LURV had a very good weekend. if best week ever was still a show and i was on it, then i would have to say LURV had the best week ever. well, specifically the best weekend ever. i know how that show was a stickler for accuracy.

here are the reasons LURV had the best weekend ever:

1. the obvious: that SCOTUS stuff. i LURV using the acronym SCOTUS cause it kind of looks like SCROTUM. and if LURV is represented by anything, it’s a scrotum.* and also equality (in marriage and access to affordable healthcare).

2. i went to a wedding. my 2nd wedding ever and the 1st wedding not held in a black box theater. but the 2nd wedding that prominently featured an a capella performance and a gay man as the official. 

i think that means my friends/family are both really lame (a capella) and really cool (gay is so clearly in right now - see #1. and just like when racism ended with Obama, discrimination and prejudice has ended for the LGBTQ community. jk. not at all. shit’s still fucked up.).

the wedding also had a whole lot of LURV. and food. i ate so much i literally almost threw up. I LURV food.

3. Pam and I are once again living together. her sabbatical (fat camp) with my parents has ended and she’s back to sleeping on my belly. we are just the cutest. we LURV each other.

she’s already made me bleed from my face.

4. i got to swim in a pool. i LURV swimming in pools.

5. joni mitchell is set to make a full recovery.

6. that movie Inside Out. people seem to LURV it. ratatouille is still my #1 though. i LURV remy. #remy4lyfe

7. i napped for like 6 hours throughout the weekend. not sure if LURV can take credit for that...i’m just bragging.

those are the reasons LURV had the best weekend ever. i’ll kill you if you disagree with any of it. seriously. it’s murder’s turn to have the best weekend ever next...

*shit, my patriarchy is showing

[whetwhitchwhistler]

Oh, my Pamela.

How I miss your little head

on that big body.

On sunday, Mother’s Day, my first Mother’s Day with Pam*, I was forced to abandon her with her grandparents for the next month or so. We’re calling it summer camp (some people *cough*mom*cough* are calling it fat camp), but it’s my failing as a parent (to a cat). Like many young parents, my Pamela is a result of some hasty decision making without thinking things through completely. The only thought I had about the long-term consequences of getting a cat while living in an apartment that doesn’t allow cats was “eh, that’s future-Dalton’s problem. and this cat is so fat. i want it.”

But now my landlord knows i’m moving, so Pam had to go into hiding. And since I love irony and pain I decided to leave her with my parent’s, in her own studio apartment, on Mother’s Day.

Then it was my Birthday! Some parents I know (from television and movies) would LOVE to celebrate their birthday without their pesky children around. But not me. I’m one of those lame dads that’s not filled with resentment. Well, not for Pam at least.

THANKFULLY, I’m getting really good at astral projection. And as Pamela is my familiar (sorry Mr. Potato Head, I needed to go with a cat if I had one...), it’s, like really easy.**

And at least I don’t have to smell cat litter. Or have 15lbs of pressure on my chest anytime I sit on my couch. Or share my dinners. Or fight over the sunniest spot in the living room. Or always lose napping contests. Or feel like the ugly one in the apartment.

Maybe I am one of those resentful parents?

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO ME! (sorry I’m a day late, but I was really busy yesterday. I ate more than 3 meals and napped for 3 hours. I mean, it was my birthday, so I thought i deserved it. and actually, you didn’t even post on my wall yesterday, so, um, i think i’m the one mad at you!”

*as a single parent (to a cat), I play the roles of both father AND mother, so I get to celebrate both.

**Astral projection’s easy, just concentrate really hard on the person/cat you want to interact with. Think about their energy. Breathe deeply. Light a joint and inhale for as long as possible. Hold. Hold. Hold. Breathe. Continue focusing on your destination’s energy. Repeat until you arrive on the spiritual plane. You’ll know.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

420 ways to enjoy 4.20 this Marathon Monday

today is the wonderful convergence of two holidays (OR SHOULD I SAY HOLIDAZE) here in Beantown - Marathon Monday and 420. this is the ideal combination. actually, the ideal combination would be thanksgiving and 420. but apparently that’s not a thing calendars can make happen.

also, you can celebrate 420 any day; just get stoned at 420. or don’t and just shout “420 guyzzzzzz, hahahahahaha” when’s it’s 4:20 am OR pm.

anyways, today is the real deal, so here some tips to help you celebrate.

1. smoke weed. this is probably the most important rule.

2. after smoking weed, think about how wild it is all those people are running SO FAAAARRRR.

3. like seriously, the first guy to run a marathon DIED at the end - according to legend.

4. but like, so did john henry?

5. remember when we thought women’s bodies would, like, just explode if it got too much exercise.

6. and those funny dresses women used to wear! HAHAHAHA.

7. evaluate how much weed you’ve just smoked - pace yourself.

8. or just nap. napping will be essential throughout the day.

9. like, you should be wearing one of those plane pillows around your neck ALL DAY, just in case.

10. appreciate how you only have to run if you want to. or if that dog you've been harassing isn't imaginary like you thought, but real. and real pissed. then you might have to run.

11. enjoy running for, like, the first time.

12. vow to never run again.

13. eat food. start with cliff bars, to feel like you’re one of those running nerds.

14. devolve your cliff bar diet into anything that is edible/looks edible.

15. smoke weed again.

16. spend a good 30 minutes to 8 hours on the internet - staring with the wikipedia entry on 420.

17. get inspired to go outside and think about those runners again. like, HOW ARE THEY STILL RUNNING?!

18. wait, are they still running?

19. have they even started? 

(4) 20. where am i?

21. see a plane in the ski and think about that for 30 minutes to 8 hours.

22 - 410. nap for, like, ever.

411. smoke more weed.

412. eat more food.

413. watch Bridge to Terabithia and cry for like 30 minutes to 8 hours.

414. seriously, Bridge to Terabithia is my generation’s My Girl.

415. smoke more weed.

416. treat yo’ self to a nice dinner. (2 bags of chips)

417. play with your cat’s laser pointer until only you still enjoy it and your cat’s like “dude, I think you smoked too much pot.”

418. tweet something stupid. or brilliant. let your fans decide which one.

419. smoke more weed.

420. fall asleep watching any episode of Broad City. or every episode of Broad City. Woah man, what if, we had, like 20 TVs. then we could watch every episode of Broad City at once. DO YOU THINK THEY SYNC UP?! those girls are so fucking funny. why did i have to say “girls”? AREN’T THEY JUST FUNNY PEOPLE?! why do we have to gender everything, man?! like, why gender our pet’s names? it’s not like they care? should i have named Pam Brian? or Bryan? or maybe Paul? what’s the male name equivalent to Pam?

if you follow any or all of these tips, i think you’ll have a great  420. now i’m going to go live in my couch for the rest of the day.

BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[whetwhitchwhistler]

vacationing with my parents in my mid-twenties: part 3

for as long as i can remember (and i remember what i had for lunch this one time in high school, so...) my mom has had 2 vacation dreams: 1) seeing the most extreme tides in the world (Bay of Fundy), and 2) seeing the DC cherry blossoms.

a few years ago she saw the first. this weekend she saw the second. i was not invited to the first trip (#blessed), but i was invited to this one. i think in large part to help my parents get through the airport, because i honestly believe they would not be able to do it without a chaperon. that might be sad if it weren’t so fucking annoying.

seriously, my mom couldn’t understand she had to actually push her bag into the xray machine. and then my dad, seeing his things separated out from everyone else’s things, on the other side of the xray machine, behind security, brilliantly just goes and picks it up. security yelled at him after they had to process what they just saw.

this is why my parents are called “the babies” during non-driving trips. except that’s not something TSA understands or cares about.

--

people are fucking wild for these trees. what a weird world.

riding a bike to see said trees during one of the busiest times in DC with two adult babies is not a good idea.

humanity has never looked worse to me. and i’ve waited tables.

--

i think i’ve become an art museum person more than a history museum person. THANK YOU ART HISTORY 101 SENIOR YEAR. THANK YOU BASIC DRAWING SENIOR YEAR. THANK YOU EASY MAJOR.

with that said, modern art with your mom is a total cliche; in that she says “eh, i just don’t get it.” every time.

(a portrait of my mom, above)

“it’s just not my cup of tea; speaking of which, i want some tea.” -something every mom says when looking at modern art

there was an older gentleman that looked like a squatter Santa without the beard or outfit; instead a fishing hat and tight t-shirt. he was very knowledgeable of the art. i was impressed, as was my mom. we then made i eye contact and both said “can’t judge a book by it’s cover.” then my mom got so happy that we said the same thing at the same time.

then i killed myself.

--

just kidding i wasn’t that guy...

highlights

-my mom shed a tear before we even left for the airport because the cab was, literally, 1 minute late.

-i made my parents watch Fast Five (for at least the 3rd time) the night before we left. from that moment on, we said “family” upwards of 100 times. i’d like to make this a new FAMILY tradition.

-my mom got fun drunk at dinner that first night. and when i say “fun,” i mean for everyone but me, because that’s when she likes to slap. slap me.

-my dad indulged quite a bit the last night and everyone in the family had to silently signal to each other that he wasn’t invited to a night time bike ride.

-we stayed with my dad’s childhood best friend. it’s really sweet, cause his house is sick. but also because it’s really cool to hear my dad reminisce about his childhood, even if he doesn’t remember half the stories.

-my dad and his friend, Art, had MULTIPLE stories that ended in one of them or their friends getting covered in animal waste. a handful took place on a farm, which makes sense. but some were not on a farm, which makes a lot less sense.

-the stories i didn’t love to hear my dad and Art reminisce about were the many they had about killing small animals. and it wasn’t that they killed these animals, it was the apparent joy they had in doing it. my dad might be part of a serial killer duo, which would be horrifying and stuff; but also, maybe cool?

-Art’s husband, Mike, is an important person in politics and we were with him when Hilary announced. I was the one that told him, after reading it on Twitter. then he sent a press release out and had me forward him the tweet for him to send to his boss (a senator). I WAS A WASHINGTON PLAYER.

-i need to stop being surprised by this, but my parents basically only talk about 4 things with other people: the weather, healthcare, how much they kind of hate technology, and healthcare.

-this was my first time away from pam since i got her and i hated it. i was afraid i was gonna Lenny her when we reunited, but i restrained myself. and she’s totally the Lenny of our relationship.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

i am a barley functioning adult.

like seriously, my roommate is my sister (roommate comes first) and she pays all bills and i just give her money. except for my phone bill!

my mom pays for that and i just give her money. actually, she still has access to my bank accounts and takes the money herself. oh gawd, i am pathetic.

i do have a job though! with insurance! DENTAL AND EYE! but i’ve never used it because i don’t really get how it works. i literally have 4 different insurance cards in my wallet because i don’t know which one is actually current.

i do know my blood type - A-. but that’s only because blood type knowledge is really useful it dark magiks.

have i mentioned i claim to be a witch?

i am a barely functioning adult.

but shit is changing!

not by choice. but, like, life man. it’s all just a series of changes we have to deal with/ignore for as long as possible. it’s like Pam’s litterbox. (LIFE IN NOT LIKE A BOX OF CHOCOLATES; IT’S LIKE A SHIT FILLED LITTERBOX WITH OLD LITTER THAT IS MAKING MY APARTMENT HAVE THE FAINT SMELL OF AMMONIA. i really need to clean Pam’s toilet.)

this change first started when i came to terms with my roommate moving, which means finding a new roommate or a new home. i’m picking the latter, mostly to escape the coming mouse/cockroach war. but this means im gonna have to figure out how to write a check. and, like, pay for internet.

and then today things got really real. i had to fill out a form for my retirement plan, NO BIG DEAL. actually it is, it took me 4 months to finally do this. because i am still a baby.

filling out a retirement plan at 24 and 11/12ths is weird cause it’s like, woah, one day i’m gonna not work. it’s the first time i got a glimpse at that glorious light at the end of the tunnel; living in a retirement home, rightfully complaining about the new robot generation.

but also while filling out this form, i was forced to name a beneficiary for when i die.

this form forced me to first confront retirement at 24 and 11/12ths. THEN IT MADE ME CONTEMPLATE MY EARLY DEATH. before 10am.

retirement plans are fucked up, man. They’re a bully.

these are pretty privileged concerns.

i still really need to go to the eye doctors.

[whetwhitchwhistler]

brrr, it's cold in here, there must to be no heat in the atmosphere. (this is a 'bring it on' reference, GET IT?!)

last year, on New Years day, the heat in my apartment stopped working. it took me the entire day to finally notice, as i like it a little chilly. what can i say, my nipples look gooooood when fully erect. but i did finally notice and got in touch with the landlord and got it fixed. ever since then, i've had a slight paranoia about this happening again*. especially now that i have a baby, i mean cat, to take care of and keep warm.

well, last night it happened again. and once again, it took me a while to actually notice. and when i did finally notice it was already 830 pm and i was pretty tired and didnt want to deal with Ralph, the landlord (what a classic landlord name). so i was like, I'M FROM NH, I CAN HANDLE THIS. I'VE GAINED SOME (okay, a lot) WEIGHT SINCE COLLEGE, I CAN HANDLE THIS. I LIKE IT COLD, I CAN HANDLE THIS. I'M NOT PLANNING ON SHOWERING, SO MY HAIR WONT FREEZE, SO I CAN HANDLE THIS.

i did handle it, but i regret it.

sleeping in an apartment that's just above 50 degrees is not enjoyable. and i get almost 100% of my joy from sleeping. so i've already limited myself to, like 10% happiness for the day. and if you've interacted with me at 100% happy, you know i'm still not super happy; so just imagine 10% happy daltron. THEY CALL ME FUSSY KITTY FOR A REASON. (i'm pretty much the only one that calls me fussy kitty, but i pretend Pam does too, so that's the "they" i'm referring to**.)

now, 4 hours after waking up, im still warming up. in fact, i was so cold when i got into my office i draped my extra fleece over my legs. now i look like FDR. which i kind of always thought i'd end up looking like, cause i love to sit and i wear glasses, but i'm too young. i thought i had a good 10 more years of not having constantly cold legs and being mistaken for someone with an eradicated disease.

at least pam's fur and morbidly obese body kept her warm. she's lucky she's not just a little bit bigger, then i might have just taunton'ed her and curled right up in that belly.

*i'm also paranoid about an evil ghost standing at the bottom of my stairs, so like, what the fuck do i know.

**i really should stop speaking for my cat. she's her own woman, with her own thoughts. we men need to stop speaking for women. also, she's a cat and dumb and can't talk or think, at least i dont think so. if she does think, then she's even dumber than i realized; the bitch is startled by her own farts.