Attention Whoring, comedy, My favorites, Selfish

I Am Archetype

There’s a reason I want to be on TV.

My favorite game is to play is what fictional character in a specific fictional world are my friends. Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, and Winnie the Pooh are the best three stories to play this game with.

The reason I want to be on TV is so that people can compare themselves to me. They can say: “I’m the Nisse of this group” or “You’re the Nisse of this group of friends.” That would be awesome!

I’ve been working on a webseries. Finally people will be able to say “I’m the Nisse of this group.” But they’ll just be explaining why their life is an utter failure.

I’m okay with that.

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comedy, Media

Daniel Tosh is the New Rebecca Black

Pi day came and went, but this time it left us a song. Despite coming out on a Monday, this song is about Friday. We know this because Rebecca Black says “Friday” 6 times in the chorus.

The song is allowed to exist. It’s a terrible song – truly terrible in every way, but that’s not worth talking about. What is worth talking about is the 33 million other times this video has been viewed. What is worth talking about is that the company that tricked Rebecca Black into making this video has 15 other videos up of similarly manipulated sadly untalented teens with parents with extra money to use to exploit their daughters. What is worth talking about is the amount of effort put into making sure that “Friday” became a hit.

Who do we blame when things like this happen?

The overprivileged child who listens to the world we tell her to listen to, who aspires to be what we tell her to aspire to be? The mother blinded by possibility of success through means she may not have to work at and deafened by her daughter’s screams and whines? No, obviously not. They are simply products of society.

Should we blame ARK, the music company that demanded that Rebecca Black pay them $2,000 dollars to produce a song that they wrote for her and produced for her and autotuned for her? They are also simply products of society.

None of these individuals are worth blaming because they are people who exist within a society in which we’ve fetishized the child celebrity – a concept so abhorrent that I wanted to do it as a child.

I wanted to be Harriet the Spy. She was a child in her own little world where she only had to precociously interact with herself as she destroys each of her friendships until she’s happily alone. I didn’t want to be Harriet the Spy, I wanted to be Harriet the Spy in the movie version. I knew I wouldn’t be allowed because people kept telling me that boys and girls were different and I didn’t have any evidence to refute that point.

When Michelle Trachtenberg became the spy I wanted to be in a pathetic attempt at retelling the story of the child with a depressing life and vivid imagination that barely pulled her away from the life that depressed her so much, my desire to be the character became a desire to love the character. They had associate the character with a physical form that I had been told was supposed to be an object of my affection and I fell for it. I no longer wanted to be the spy, I wanted to marry the spy.

Rebecca Black wants to sing a song with Justin Beiber and she is trying to ride the sympathy train there. Beiber shouldn’t do it. Not because his music is significantly better than hers but because Black shouldn’t be rewarded for having excess money in her family that was spent at a psuedo-scam company trying to fit into society.

I stopped wanting to fuck Harriet the Spy when I learned what fucking was. But as a child I was simply at the whim of whatever I was told to want. Because I wore sweatpants and sweatshirts that matched didn’t mean I should look fictional characters who dressed the same as me in order to find a template to live by. Those fictional characters were created by depressed writers attempting to rectify their past mistakes by making the mistakes lovable.

Mistakes are not lovable.

Let’s write a short story:

Rebecca Black sees Willow Smith. Rebecca Black sees Justin Beiber. Rebecca Black finds shallow similarities between her and these people. Rebecca Black decides she is like them. Rebecca Black finds shallow differences between her and these people. Rebecca Black decides she is going to be the next them. Rebecca Black gets her mother to pay $2,000 to a group of people to pretend to agree with her. These group of people pretend to be her friends. “Friday” gets made.

If you could have whined to your mom and get the friends you wanted when you were 13, would you have? Probably. If you could pay a little bit of money to get your kid to stop whining and love you for once, would you? Probably. If you could get $2,000 to pretend to be a kid’s friend, would you? Definitely.

Nobody’s motivations were that irrational or evil except Daniel Tosh.

Tosh.0 is the worst thing that has ever existed and Daniel Tosh is one of the worst people that has ever existed.

The exploitation of these children to maintain a family’s happiness and a scam artist’s financial success is gross, but a necessary side affect of capitalism. Capitalism is really to blame for this song, but I don’t think I’m breaking new ground by saying that – I’m just making sure we’re all on the same page before I talk more about what a horrendous human being Daniel Tosh is.

Tosh makes his living by finding videos that other people have already found and then saying obvious facts about said video and then spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the camera when you are supposed to laugh. The popularity of the Rebecca Black video is mostly attributed to Tosh making fun of it on his half an hour of wasted space that he calls a TV show. Can we simply attribute his exploitation of an exploitation to capitalism gone awry? Partially because I hold comedians to a higher standard than normal people, but also because he refuses to admit that he is part of the system.

Tosh saw Justin Beiber and Willow Smith and thought, “man, they have things I want.” Someone with an excess of money who cared about Tosh gave a scam artist company (Comedy Central) a bunch of money to pretend to be his friend and that company decided to use the profits. Daniel Tosh is Rebecca Black.

His method of making fun of her is absurd because he refuses to admit this simple fact: that he is just as much of an untalented waste of space as Rebecca Black. She tries to cover for her lack of talent by autotuning her voice and Tosh overcompensates for his lack of talent by overwhelming an audience with a laugh track. They are the same person except that Tosh isn’t 13 so he doesn’t have that excuse.

Harriet the Spy is still my idol sometimes because I’m still part of society and I forget to combat that sometimes. I think Rebecca Black is Daniel Tosh’s idol and we should feel bad for Tosh that he will never get to be her.

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comedy, Gender, Horny, Indignant, My favorites

Fuckin’ Adorable or Adorable Fuckin’

I told a story recently and am going to tell it again tonight about how I was very bad at attempting to have sex. You should go to the show to see me tell it. I was REALLY bad at trying to have sex.

The story is specifically about a girl I was desperately in love with despite knowing her for two weeks before I came to this conclusion. I was 18 and a virgin and she shared some interests with me so that meant we were meant for each other. If you want to hear the story, you’ll have to come to the show tonight, but the important part that I will tell now is that we don’t wind up together.

It’s an adorable story of me being as pathetic as possible and still not getting the girl. I love telling these stories. I love telling these stories because I think it’s important that people hear the romantic comedy archetypical plot from the supposed hero of these stories and realize that it is not a life that should be aspired toward.

I watch Chuck on Hulu every week. It is the worst show for television because it lauds this nerdy guy as some sort of backwards sex symbol who should both aspire to and succeed in getting the super hot girl who has not similar interests to him. This is not the only show that does this. Every movie with Topher Grace or Michael Cera or Jay Baruchel or Insert Scrawny White Guy Here is about how this guy who couldn’t get laid has a heart of gold and if he just tries hard enough than a girl should respect that and start laying him. The problem with this being, of course, that women should have agency and just because a man tried really hard does not mean that a woman should have sex with him. He might be annoying, ugly, or share no interests with her. In fact that is usually the case. If you base a whole romance on one shallow trait being shared or one band as a common interest then conversations will run dry very quickly. Yet we keep making these movies and tv shows under the assumption that because the man is nerdy he is an underdog and therefore can be rooted for and you are still being subversive.

Quickly put: the oversexualization of scrawny white guys who stammer when they get nervous and get nervous when they’re near hot girls has been made more destructive because people are able to trick themselves into thinking that they are going against the status quo, when in fact they are simply living out some lonely mans fantasy where he re-writes his past and gets to hook up with a girl he created in his mind.

So, I tell stories where I lead you on a journey that you’ve been led on before. Scrawny awkward white guy likes girl. Girl is too hot for him and doesn’t want to have sex with him. He tries really hard though! But then instead of the girl finally succumbing to his patriarchy and sleeping with him – I fail in some interesting way that continues to defy the status quo. In the video that I hope you clicked on above I make out with a man in a closet.

As I began this post: I told a story that followed this formula a couple weeks ago. I was then approached by two women. They were attractive women and they wanted to talk to me. Because I had accidentally oversexualized myself by presenting myself as the hero of their teen-movie fantasy. More interestingly though, was that after listening to my story that ended with me and protagonist female not together, the women asked if the girl I was sitting with was protagonist female. The girl I was with was a friend. A good friend, but far from the girl I had devoted a year of my life creeply obsessing about and wanting to sleep with. But they couldn’t wrap their mind around the idea that that girl was no longer a part of my life.

Me and protagonist female are still friends but not sexual/romantic. We talk on the phone sometimes, but she lives in another state. But that’s not how the story is supposed to end. I had put so much effort into trying to fuck her that if she wasn’t fucking me now she must be a bitch. But she’s not. She just didn’t want to fuck me. And that is her right as a person to not want to fuck me. She deserves that right. All people deserve the right to not want to fuck me. Not believing this is the same as believing in rape. It’s stripping away sexual agency from women in favor of whatever a man wants.

It’s funny. These two girls came up to me so blinded by hearing the beginning of a story they had heard before that they forgot to listen to the end. And even if they did listen they refused to hear it because it didn’t fit their fantasy dreamworld where me and protagonist female end up together with babies and happiness. They didn’t think she had the right to not want to fuck me. She must now be that girl that I am sitting with.

I think anger and hunger have forced this incoherence. The important thing to take away from it is that you should come hear me tell a story tonight at The Fifth Estate and then NOT try to have sex with me because of it. I won’t respect you.

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comedy, Gender, Media, My favorites, race

I Could Have Accomplished More if I Was Black

When I saw Win a Date With Tad Hamilton I was pissed. I wasn’t just mad because the movie was clichéd representation of gender norms in 95 minute form, but also because I wasn’t in it.

Topher Grace had stolen my life. I was supposed to be the too scrawny to be attractive awkward guy that ended up with the girl in the end but only after losing her multiple times to hunkier men who weren’t all bad, but weren’t as good either. When I said life in that first sentence of this paragraph I meant movie-life. I meant the person I was so good at pretending to be when I was 18 that I figured people would want to watch me on TV screens being that person. I wasn’t that person.

Though at 18 I was much dumber than I am now, I still knew that with that power came great responsibility and once I became famous for being nerdy but not too nerdy, awkward but somewhat charming, and vaguely depressed but only because I didn’t have you in my life I would have to find some way to subvert those expectations. Maybe I would also be gross because we aren’t comfortable enough with grossness as a society. Maybe I would be surprisingly cocky because it’s stupid that we find lack of confidence attractive only if it’s teamed with bumbling sentences and small muscles.  Maybe it would be simply be extreme leftist politics because these vanilla figures of teen-idolatry never took a real stance.

I’ve grown. Both in my understanding of teen movie worship and in facial hair. Both make my desire to manifest as a tween heartthrob only to  subvert any desires tweens had for me less appealing. Most importantly Drake came along.

He was on Degrassi. He didn’t quite always get the girl. Then he joined the most badass group of rappers in the US. Sings with the most badass chicks in rap. Had a video that prominently displayed boobs as its main feature. But most importantly he was still cute.

The whole time!

He was soo cute. He still is. Nobody looks cuter when he moves his gaze slowly from her thighs to her boobs.

He’s doing what I wanted to do, but so much better.

The key to the socially awkward, doesn’t get laid guy who gets the girl in the end is that he induces “awws.” Is that when you look at him you can’t help but crinkle your eyebrows and hold back a smile that says “man, I wish you were doing better.” Is that you root for him no matter what he does. Topher Grace, Shia Lebeouf, That dude from Can’t Hardly Wait, Jason Biggs. They all did it well, but then did nothing after. Drake does it while being a part of Young Money – rapping with Lil’ Wayne, Kanye, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, and every other person associated with the badass part of rap. A part of rap associated with drugs, tits, fucking, and gang violence. Yet he’s playing Topher Grace in Win a Date with Tad Hamilton.

Donald Glover (aka Childish Gambino) is trying to do the same thing, but why he won’t succeed is because he has two names. Drake is Drake – he is no longer Aubrey Graham who was in a wheelchair in Degrassi. Donald Glover will always stay an actor because he refuses to let go of his acting persona (Not that I think that’s bad, I think he’s a great actor). He’s just a shitty person with amazing taste.

I don’t want to go on a rant about how confused I am about my feeling about the Derrick Comedy star.

Drake is incredible.

Watch this video and try to not understand what I’m saying:

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Attention Whoring, comedy, Lazy

Self Promotion

I’m really sore. Like I hurt a lot. In my thighs and my arms and my back and my neck. The thighs and arms are because I went rock climbing two days ago. The back and neck are because since then I’ve found it too difficult to put on clothes and therefore don’t feel quite comfortable lounging in the public space of our apartment and therefore spend all my time in my bed and therefore prop my neck and back in weird positions against the wall and my bed in order to view my computer screen.

Remember that song “My Neck, My Back?” I also want all those things licked, if the tongue is laced in icy hot. Yes, I want my pussy and asshole laced in Methyl Salicylate. Yes, for the purposes of this joke I have a pussy. Yes, for the purposes of this joke I have an asshole.

This is why I don’t work out.

Working out is the act of competing to see who can be in more pain tomorrow. I have no desire for future pain. It’s a waste of time

In an attempt to illustrate how aware I am of my hypocrisy I’m putting a colon before this next sentence: I was surprised by how everyone at the rock climbing gym was very attractive. I’m not very attractive.

Let’s list the things that I think are important to note now:

1. Some male friends of mine wanted to start working out when we were in college. I was sitting in the back of the minivan on the way to McDonalds drawing penises in the fog of the back window. “Nisse, do you want to work out with us?” To which I responded: “No, getting buff would ruin my image.”

2. In one of my writing books I have a list entitled: “Disparaging Ways to Insult My Body.” There are sections on skinniness, chest hair, eyebrows, and facial hair.

We all make sacrifices for our art, and fortunately my art demands me to look like a holocaust victim who got leprous squirrels stapled to his body. Comedy is my art, but more importantly my life is my art. I write, talk, and perform mostly about me which means that I have to create a me that I appreciate writing, talking, and performing about.

I had half a beard for 4 months. During that time I created a blog specifically dedicated to jokes that a person with half a beard would write. I abandoned the blog when I abandoned the facial hair on the right side of my face. I’ve come back to that blog because I realized that I didn’t need to have half a face of pubic looking strands of gross to act like a person with half a face of pubic looking strands of gross. This one‘s my favorite.

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comedy, My favorites, race

I’m a Jewish?

This bout with unemployment has led to a surprisingly productive couple of days. I haven’t been writing very well, or applying to jobs, or doing things that are productive, but under an alternate definition of productive that just means “make things,” I’ve been mildly productive. And mildly is still surprising.

I built a shelf. It is partially held together by a piece of rope and a bent nail. It is awesome.

I made a piece of art in my room. By art, I mean I took my menorah and nailed it to the wall. Then I took this awkward bulb of plastic that I had laying around and nailed that over the menorah. It now looks like I’m making a statement about my Judaism. Somehow I’m trapped? But I can still see the relics? Light shines in? But not too much light? About 8 days of light?

Because of its placement across the room but still within my “incredibly visible” area, this piece of “art” has made me think about my relationship to my Jewishness.

Within these parenthesis is my entire set of thoughts on how I relate to my Judaism: ( )

I am ethnically a chosen person, and based on name and neurosis people know that about me. I was not barmitzvahed or circumcised or gone to temple except for other people’s barmitzvahs. I was raised without religion by a woman raised without religion and a man raised very Jewish, so Jewish is the closest I have to religion. But that is as relevant as saying I was raised in America and therefore I feel most in touch with American slavery. I am as close to religion as I am to slavery. Jewishness has formed what people say about me and has formed how people act around me and has formed how comfortable people are around me, and yet I am in now way Jewish. I am as Jewish as I am German. I am as Jewish as I am from Yonkers. I am Jewish as I am a basketball player.

Despite the fact that I have in no way identified with Judaism at any point in my life, and despite the fact that I haven’t aligned myself with Jews any more than any semitic Woody Allen fan, people’s perceptions of Judaism and me have changed because of each other.

One of the things I hate most in comedy is when people rely on Jewish words to get laughs. Saying Hanukkah is not funny. Discussing the fact that you ate Latkes is not exciting. In episode 2 of the best show of all time David Wain is eating dinner with a family that has been identified as Jewish. He begins by saying something to the effect of “This is some great Rugalach. These latkes are to die for. I guess what I’m trying to say, Mrs. Feldman is that this is the best Jew food I’ve ever had.” I think this line gets to the heart of my feelings about Judaism. Saying that you like cereal isn’t a funny thing to say, and therefore saying that you like Kugel shouldn’t be funny either. People have made it funny though by laughing inappropriately at it. Nobody laughs when you say “Burrito.” Nobody laughs when you say “Fettuccine Alfredo.” We should all learn how to make cottage cheese blintzes because they are delicious, not because it is funny to say you can make “cottage cheese blintzes.”

I am barely more Jewish than my mom – who is from Sweden, but if people keep referring to me as Jewish I have to refer to myself that way too, and it’s hard for me to turn down the laughter I get just by saying my last name is “Greenberg” – probably because I’m Jewish.

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comedy, Gender, Horny, My favorites, Poop

I Have Fun: Or Poop and Kanye’s Dick

I always walk to the front of the subway station because there are fewer people in the front two cars then in the middle ones closer to the entrance. I like to sit when I travel and I don’t care if it means more walking. To me, walking and standing are interchangeable – it’s only once we allow another object to help out with our fight against gravity that we truly relax.

At the front of the Easter Parkway/Brooklyn Museum stop there was a pile of human poop. I guess the people who walk all the way to the front of the station are either people who are aficionados of laziness and efficiency or people who don’t have access to a toilet. I didn’t mind being grouped with these people, as long as it meant I would get a seat next to a wall of metal bars I could rest my head. I hung out by human poop. It was so worth it.

Not only was their a seat empty, but the entire car was devoid of humans. From Eastern Parkway all the way to Grand Army Plaza I was going to be alone in this moving cart of metal bars and slippery seats. This is how I would get my start as a member of the fantastical dance troupe that dances in the streets. I jungle gym’d harder than Kanye West Emmet Till’d. Then the train stopped at Grand Army Plaza. No one entered my car! I had 3 more minutes of intense breakdancing off a moving vehicle’s walls! The doors began to close!  But then a rich couple came running across the platform to join me last second. I had to sit.

Dancing>sitting>walking>standing.

Fun>comfort>movement>boring.

This is the problem with people and the fact that they can be offended.

I should have kept dancing – that was what was in my heart, but I couldn’t because I thought they might judge me poorly because of their suits and their non-smiles. I was on my way to a place full of suits and non-smiles and I was wearing jeans, a vest, and my ridiculous facial hair that make me look like a pedophile attempting to attract the children of pirates by reminding them of their fathers. My alma mater had invited me and some other burgeoning arts performers in New York City to mingle with other alums who had a lot more money in an attempt to convince the latter group to give donations in order to build our college’s arts center.

I was greeted by a tray of seared tuna topped with wasabi infused caviar on a daikon radish. I don’t usually eat fish, but it’s hard to say no to things that have infusion in them. The rest of the night was me not knowing what to say. See, I wanted to talk about how amazing it was that Kanye West put pictures of his penis on the internet, but I felt like people who worked in undescribed finance positions were not interested in that.

I enjoy fun, but I also feel it my duty to allow others to enjoy fun. If they want to do whatever, they are allowed to do whatever and if I don’t like it, I don’t like it. It’s seems simple and without nuance, but it has plenty of nuance. Don’t force upon someone your definition of fun, and walk away when someone tries to force upon you their definition of fun.

Why did they invite me to this event?

They know that the performance I do is just me complaining about how I couldn’t get laid in college, right?

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Attention Whoring, comedy, I Don't Know What the Fuck This Is, Selfish

Me: In Others

I can’t believe my roommate is taking this couch. I mean, she bought it, but I sit on it most. Doesn’t that mean something?

The coffee table/bench is also on it’s way out. Another thing that I use most. Another thing I feel like I have the most emotional connection to.

I sit on my couch with my feet up on the bench reading blogs and shit. I’m gonna make fun of other peoples blogs now.

Ok, Lara: Love is sooooooo hard. Companionship is soooooooo fun. Gross. I hate companionship. It’s just a synonym for obligation mixed with someone else’s desires that contradict yours. And I don’t care that you just saw Maggie Gillie. I’m not jealous because at least I’m not immature enough to strive for love. Fuck, it’s not immaturity, it’s that you are a moron who places importance on things that aren’t important. I’m not talking about your misplaced love of weird gyrating sounds that are annoying to listen to, I’m talking about your misplaced love of boys who are willing to talk to you.

Yeah Ben: you fail at rap because you are white. There’s an original stance to take. Oh wait, no, you like the same rap that black people like. Oh, you are more cultured and understanding than other white boys who pretend to like rap because you don’t need to analyze it for its content, message, and intellectuality. But you could. You totally could because you aren’t stupid, you just choose not to because you aren’t pretentious. Yeah, you aren’t pretentious. Sure.

Whoa Dan: To forgive is to shut people up, and yet it is not divine? What is wrong with you? Shutting people up is divine. You should shut up. That would be divine. Especially about how big your weiner is. Look, it was cute and all when you started using weiner as your term for dick-shlong, but now it’s just a catchphrase. As is “House It.” As is literally everything you write. Let me try to write a blog entry for you: Hey I got high off of lots of blunts and laughed at poop. I have a girlfriend, weird, right? Girls should do more so that I can stick my big weiner in them. In their mouths, let’s be clear because I’m still a little frightened of vaginas. House it. Editors Note: I don’t really have anything worthwhile to say, but I feel another need to reference both my shit and my penis so I just thought of a new phrase: WeinerDoodie. It means when you fuck a pile of shit with your limp penis. It’s funny because it involves the same things I’ve made jokes about for the past 6 years and it says them using words that 8 year olds use. Do you get it yet? Do I need to make another editor’s note despite the fact that calling myself an editor of my own blog is both narcissistic and inaccurate.

Cool Grace: You have an opinion on facebook places??!!?!? WHAT?!!? OMG stop the presses, stop my dick, it needs to leave mid penetration to read this fucking fascinating article on how invasion of privacy is blah blah blah. I didn’t even finish reading this because I’m sure I understand the conclusion: I don’t want people to know what I’m doing, that’s why I publish it constantly on the internet via this blog.

Oooooh Paul: Look at me, I can draw and be earnest in my childish endeavors into coloring. Everybody is gonna think this is cool an hip. It’s not it’s just that Paul is a fucking child who can’t grow up because he doesn’t have to because his parents buy him all the root beer he needs. Could you not resist coloring in your own drawing Paul? Why don’t you not resist working on the project we’re working on together instead of playing in coloring books like a fucking four year old?

Wowza Scott: I’m Scott, I don’t have anything interesting to say. I just spend all my time focusing on what others say and repeating them. I actually genuinely respect your laziness, but I hate your non-fear of death. That’s stupid. Death is scary. Don’t be dumb.

Sarah??: “Nice guy from Turkmenistan.” Really? That’s your description? Really? … We all know turkmenisties are fuckwads.

mmm Syreeta: Look at how cultured I am! Look at how much i don’t think about being in America! Look at my boring apartment with nothing in it but my loneliness!

Duh Sara: Tristan is a dude’s name. Also, great job copyrighting your little tidbits. Everybody is trying to steal them.

Yeah Brad: Y’know who’s the jerk? You. You’re the jerk. And you know who you got your genetic material from? Not your pretty aunt, but your ugly mother. That’s why you are such a jerk, because you are bitter that everybody thinks you are soooo ugly. Well, too bad, this is the real world and some people are ugly and some people are beautiful. You are ugly, deal with it. And, whoopdifuckingdoo, you got to talk about your childhood again and all the great shows you are doing with great lineups. Try something new, like not putting weird pictures in your posts that only serve to confuse me as to what message you are presenting and take up a lot of space so that you don’t have to write that much.

Wahoo Girl who commented on my blog and now I’ve started reading hers because I’m lonely and I tend to really enjoy it for the most part: You got on stage and liked it. Wow! Revelation alert!!! You enjoy talking about yourself enough to start a blog about it and now you are realizing that you like talking about yourself too?! Holy shit! Wait, before we move on, let’s talk about how embarrassing it was for you to have a 4.0 in middle school. Nobody had a 4.0 in middle school. And it doesn’t matter if your mom mentioned it. You did. Right now. You are bragging. Stupidly. Like someone who got a 2.0 in middle school. I would have given you strait Cs in 4th grade.

Here we go, Me: You are too jealous of everyone else’s success to comment on the fact that you have a depressing life that mostly revolves around your judgement of others in similar boats to you. Maybe if you laced those boats together you could make a big cruise ship, but you’d rather take a dump in everybody else’s boat because you are so full of shit. Also, trim your beard it looks gross.

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Attention Whoring, comedy, Gender

I Know You Hate My Dick

I have a show in a week at The PIT. It involves nudity. It involves me doing some weird shit to my body and my penis. I love my penis. I really do.

It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with the love affair I have with my penis. People hate my love affair. People don’t want to like the relationship I have with my penis – they want to think it’s clichéd and annoying and that I just want to gross everyone out.

Mostly, they want to think that’s a bad thing. I think being annoyed is an important part of life. I think understanding clichés is how we change as a society. I think being grossed out is a part of self-reflection. My penis is an important, society changing tool of self-reflection.

I was told by a friend who is pretty consistently wrong that she was sorry that she didn’t laugh at my joke about my erection but she just doesn’t find it that funny despite the fact that she understands its funny to us guys. She explained that it’s the same as how I wouldn’t find jokes about periods and vaginas were that funny. I told you she was consistently wrong. I love jokes about periods. I love jokes about vaginas. I think they are just as important or more important that jokes about my penis. Let’s just recognize that our genitals are gross and the fact that we think they are gross is simultaneously depressing and true.

We refuse to show anybody a part of our body – a piece of ourselves – unless we get close to them. That’s stupid. We’re equating a physical chunk of our flesh with vulnerability. Vulnerability is much deeper. Deeper than a vagina. Even your mom’s vagina. And that shit is deep. Because I shoved my penis in it. Really hard. and my penis is long. So long that it extended the depth of your mom’s vagina. It wasn’t very pleasurable for either of us, it was more of an experiment to see if we could change the makeup of our bodies. We succeeded. We’re going to try to publish the results. The paper is called “My Penis Makes Your Mom’s Vagina Deeper: or 20,000 Inches into the C.” They’re trying to get the movie rights to my paper. But I want to sell it to a classy studio like Focus Features. It’s in litigation right now.

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Attention Whoring, comedy, My favorites, Selfish

BEIBERMANIA LOLZORZ!!1

I wish I had accidentally become Justin Beiber. He’s writing his memoir at 16. I want to write my memoir every two years. I guess I just call it a blog and write it constantly, but the idea of publishing a book with stories I pull from my short term memory sounds awesome.

I also want to be Justin Beiber because I like the idea of being a tween sensation. Not because I want to fuck 16 year olds, but I think I do want to fuck 16 year olds’ expectations. That is to say that I want to be on the cover TeenHeartThrobbingCock magazine with a patchy half beard, a ball hanging out, with my arm around a 40-year-old-fat-poor-black-woman that I met on set when she was begging for change to support her illiterate child and her meth addiction.

It’s not that I want to change what we find attractive, it’s that I don’t want people to understand what they find attractive. Especially teenagers. They are so easily influenced into liking shit, let’s not tell them what they like. Let’s let them make their own fucked up decisions. Let’s make Peaches a viable teenstar:

This video is NSFW if your work isn’t into the implication that Dorothy likes to get high and then get eaten out by flying monkeys

I want to give an interview to aforemention TweenCockThrob that goes like this:

TeenageThrobLand: So, H2$. Your eyes are so blue –

NG: You ever been eye-fucked?

CockTeenTease: I, what?

NG: It’s different than skull fucking. It’s when I look at you so hard that you get wet. Why do you think all these 16 year olds are masturbating to pictures of me? It’s cus I’m eye fucking them when I’m on camera.

TeenJizz: So how would you describe your appeal?

NG: I simultaneously look like I’m 14 years old and like I’m going to make mommy leave daddy for me only to leave her for someone fatter and uglier causing her to go through an uncomfortable revelation that she has past her sexual prime and come crawling back to daddy who has moved on to a younger girl because our society only respects aging when it happens to penises therefore pushing her further into her manic depression until she takes too many pills and she has to give up her custody and you have to go live with daddy and your new step mom who resents you for making it harder to spend daddy’s money and suck daddy’s cock.

WetPantweens: What movie do you look to for inspiration?

NG: Debbie Does Dick, it’s a spin off of Debbie Does Dallas.

Teeeeeeeeeens!!!1!!: So, you like sex a lot?

NG: No. I cry after I have sex every time. I much prefer masturbation because then nobody has to see my tears.

TeenLOLzorsWeiner: I… Um.

NG: Do you want half this ball of opium? I don’t think I can finish it. I’m full.

It’s not just about defying or creating new expectations. It’s about not allowing expectations to exist. Expectations are boring – they make things easy to predict. I want to be constantly surprised, but unsurprised that I am surprised.

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