Retro Relapse: Men Who Can’t Handle One Cocktail

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

There isn’t a night where I go out that I don’t run into at least a few dudes who can’t seem to handle just one cocktail. You know you’ve seen them too. Hell, for all I know, you, the reader, could be one of these 5-star party animals that finds themselves crashing and burning after one Jägerbomb or even worse, one bottle of Bud Lite Lime.

You are the Mike’s Hard Lemonade drinker. The Smirnoff Ice sommelier. The ’90s poster boy for Zima, who considers a classic cocktail to be some swill manufactured by Bartles & Jaymes. The guy that doesn’t understand why people roll their eyes when you show up to a B.Y.O.B. with just one six pack. You show up the most gung ho, the most ready to throw down and often times the most obnoxious. You argue with bouncers about your shorts and trucker hat outside of a nice establishment. You have just one bowling shirt that you think is sufficient for dressing up when taking your significant other to a fancy anniversary dinner of Jack Daniel’s ribs at T.G.I. Friday’s. You probably get drunk on those Jack Daniel’s ribs. Hell, you probably still own a Korn t-shirt. You’re a self-described animal of the night that can go the distance and turn any shindig into an ultimate rager. The fact of the matter is, you’re the first one to fall in a room full of more suave party people.

Now don’t get me wrong, you can be fun and entertaining but after one round of shots, it isn’t fun to be holding you up against the bar, as you drool like a sloppy baby yelling out your ex-girlfriend’s name in front of your current girlfriend. I appreciate you buying me whatever the hell sweet and disgusting shot that was and I thank you for it, as it is still alcohol of some sort, but your response to my gratitude shouldn’t be puking and pissing on me while I’m trying to sit you down in a chair. Frankly, despite your inability to hang with us professional alcoholics, I’d like to spend more than fifteen minutes with you before 6 oz. of Popov and cranberry effect you like a Floyd Mayweather uppercut.

You’re not a bad person, you’re just not doing it right. You need help. You really need to train. You need to step your game up and learn how to control your shit. Maybe your DNA isn’t wired for drinking and if that’s the case, just stick to beer. However, when I say “beer”, I’m referring to something respectable. Nothing flavored, nothing clear and god forbid nothing low calorie! If you’re going to drink, just fucking drink. That is, unless you’re some dainty white girl who finds herself sitting around the house munching on SnackWells cookies because you can eat more of those than you can E.L. Fudge.

If you are a cocktail drinker, put down the energy drink mixers, pick a better vodka and for fuck’s sake, get to know some good whiskeys. There are a ton of badass cocktails that you can drink that have a ton more flavor and character than your disgusting concoction of Goldschläger and O.J. Hell, I made a list of my Top 10 Classic Cocktails (link no longer available). You should read it and start there.

It doesn’t end there though. You need to learn how to go the distance. If you crash early, pace yourself. Don’t start with a wimpy shot that will knock you on your ass immediately. Order a decent beer or a decent cocktail and take it easy. You don’t have to slam the fucking thing.

When starting out my alcoholic training regiment, I suggest that you limit yourself to just one drink per hour. When you get to a point where you don’t want to pass out in a pile of vomit within that time, up your intake to two drinks per hour. To be honest, I very rarely ever go beyond two-to-three alcoholic beverages in an hour. This is how I pace myself, still get seriously buzzed but don’t find myself hitting the floor like a tranquilized hippopotamus.

Now this may take some time to master and to get the hang of but I’ve had well over a decade to practice and I’ve got my shit together. I used to find myself overdoing it and honestly, sometimes on a rare occasion, I still do but for the most part, I keep it together, have a good time, get moderately inebriated and don’t find myself making bad decisions or becoming the burden of the party.

Class up your shit. This isn’t just drinking advice, it’s life advice. Maybe it is time to grow up because dude bros in their mid-thirties who still carry themselves in public like freshmen frat boys at their first kegger are just embarrassing themselves. Plus, you’ll never make a good impression on a potential life mate if you’re in the fetal position, soaked in piss.

And definitely don’t drink in front of bosses or co-workers until you can handle more than one cocktail.

I’m just trying to do my part. You’re welcome, America.

Retro Relapse: The Offended Man

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

Since starting this website just weeks ago, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from readers online, friends on Facebook, people on Twitter and friends and acquaintances in my personal life. What I’ve been finding is that my posts that fall into the realm of masculinity and relationship areas have been received differently from people of different sexes.

I’ve been finding great support from the female side of the coin, which is awesome, as a lot of my writings deal with men needing to man up and find their balls, for lack of a better descriptive term. Weirdly, it has been the men that have pushed back on this. Well, not all men but there have been several who have found some of my posts “offensive” and “sexist”. My, oh my… how the mighty have fallen.

My article “Ladies, I’m Not That Guy” seems to have upset a portion of the male Internet populace. Is it because I tell it like it is from my point-of-view or that I call men out for being pussies or because I seem to be indirectly calling for men to unite against militant third-wave feminism?

No, the reason why these dime store saps are offended is because they are the guys I mentioned in my article; the ones who are so indoctrinated with modern societal bullshit that they are placating to pussy that they are too timid to even try and claim. They’re not mad at me and my words, they are just trying to cover my mouth in an effort to not upset the herd. They are chronic apologists who feel the need to hush up all outspoken men who might be stepping out of some fictitious boundary of political correctness because embracing oneself is a crime if it just might offend someone else. Well, you sir, offend me.

These guys are so busy trying to do right after they’ve been told that their sex has done so much wrong. These offended men are male feminists. Really, they’re just pussy puppets who might as well have a hand up their ass because they’ll never get laid, at least not from a decent woman.

So why do most women seem to like what I’ve said? Well, they aren’t pussies. They like and respect the truth and a dude who isn’t just kissing their ass in a sad attempt to win them over. How’s that working out for you ass kissers, by the way? Women don’t want you to always agree with them and to bow down like a well-trained dog. They want you to get the fuck up off of the ground and stand for something real. Hell, challenge them on their bullshit.

No, I am not some chick magnet, but I do okay. I’m not the best looking guy but I don’t give a fuck. I am who I am and I carry myself the way I want to carry myself and that’s why I do alright for myself. There’s that old adage that says, “Just be yourself.” Well, it’s not bullshit. Just be your-fucking-self and stop being what you think women want you to be because it doesn’t work and you suck at it. You’re not fooling anyone but yourself. Seriously dude, get off your moral high horse because you look like Prince Charming’s crybaby little brother.

I hate to sound like a dick but ultimately, I am just trying to help you idiots. So I’ll say it again, man the fuck up.

Retro Relapse: National Food Days or National Fat Craze?

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

Today is National Doughnut Day. Which got me thinking about other foods that now have national days maybe not recognized by the United States government but recognized by billion dollar marketing firms. The United States alone currently has 172 nationally recognized food dates, be they days or weeks. The problem is, for every National Doughnut Day or National Pizza Day, there is a National Vinegar Day or a National Anisette Day. What the fuck are we doing to ourselves?

Some foods are iconic and a big part of our culture. I get why doughnuts and pizza have a special day once a year for their industries to celebrate and give out good deals: making boatloads of cash for the business. But why does everything deserve a special day? There are 172 in the calendar year of 365! I guess in America we don’t believe in moderation. I guess our not believing in moderation is probably why we need holidays to use as an excuse to gorge on high caloric and fatty foods. We can’t control ourselves.

Yes, I eat a lot of these things but I don’t need a special day for them and I can’t eat them all the time. Also, the vast majority of these things that have a special day, really don’t deserve them. Do we need days for mustard, spinach, zucchini, zucchini bread, trail mix, chocolate covered cherries, peanut clusters, blueberry popovers, oatmeal nut waffles, coconut tortes, chips and dip, clams on a half shell, cheese balls, pigs in a blanket, pretzels, shrimp scampi, candied orange peels, taffy, escargot, corn on the cob, yogurt, catfish, creative ice cream flavors, gingersnaps, beans, chocolate wafers, apple turnovers, bittersweet chocolate with almonds, sugar cookies, pina coladas, Grand Marnier, tapioca, gummy worms, corn fritters, peach ice cream, caviar, daiquiris, lollipops, penuche fudge, lasagna, raspberry cakes, watermelons, s’mores, spumoni, sponge cakes, popsicles, crackers, herbs, toasted marshmallows, macadamias, cheese pizza, acorn squash, hoagies, linguine, guacamole, apple dumplings, hot mulled cider, brandied fruits, bologna, candy corn, candy apples, caramel apples, fried clams, deviled eggs, nachos, Harvey Wallbanger, scrapples, vanilla cupcakes, sundaes, chicken soup, Indian pudding, spicy hermit cookies, baklava, breads, vichyssoise, carbonated beverages with caffeine, peanut butter fudge, stuffing, cranberry relish, cashews, cranberries, espresso, parfait, Bavarian cream pies, French toast, leftovers, mousse, red apples, ham salad, fruitcake, soda and champagne?

You see how ridiculous this has gotten? Those food and beverage items I just listed out aren’t even half of them. Hell, I don’t even know what some of them are. Many are even repeated multiple times throughout the year. There are multiple days for peanut butter, pizza, puddings and other stuff. Some of these “holidays” are also so specific. What’s next, a National Deep Fried Cajun Chitterlings Stuffed with Pickled Pigs Feet and Okra Day?

We’ve gotten way out of hand here, America.

Do I really need to say more on the subject?

Retro Relapse: Bitch, Eat a Cheeseburger

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

I am fortunate enough to have a lot of attractive female friends; I don’t say that to brag or to paint myself as the pimp of the year. I just happen to know pretty chicks and have built up a good rapport with them because it really isn’t that hard if you are yourself and not a complete douche or an emasculated wuss. But trashing douches and wusses isn’t the point of this post, the point is to discuss what I’ve noticed and experienced with some of these ladies and their apparent body image issues.

A lot of women seem to think that starving themselves and being as skinny as possible is attractive. Well, it isn’t. In fact, it is kind of gross. To be clear, skinny girls in general aren’t gross. I’m talking about that special breed who obsess over their thinness to the point of looking like a starving child in a third world country. To be blunt, most guys I know don’t want to fuck a bag of bones. Truthfully, your apparent fragility frightens us.

So what is responsible for this disturbing trend? One could blame the trash magazines at the grocery store checkout or reality television or whatever other pop culture scapegoat that is too easy to point at. The problem is much deeper than that, however, and I think that those things aren’t the root of the issue. They certainly magnify it and add to the crisis but the root seems to come from a massive desire by many women to live up to impossible expectations, not set by men but set by other women. In the way that dude bros are overly competitive in the gym at becoming freak beasts, many women are overly competitive at trying to look as thin as humanly possible without actually dying. Well in most cases, because some women have died from this behavior.

Now they don’t do it to attract a mate, even though they might believe that that is their real motivation, they do it to be better than their friends – to look the thinnest and hottest at the beach or the tofu barbecue pool party. It certainly isn’t for us guys and if it was, it’d be pretty idiotic considering that most of us aren’t envisioning ourselves as the male co-star in some sicko starvation porn.

Personally, I like a woman with curves and hips and a shapely figure, not a woman that looks like tits on a stick. Most normal dudes I talk to, feel the same way. I do have one friend though that likes anorexic looking girls. But that’s just because he sees such girls as hot due to the fact that it implies that they’ve got issues; he’s attracted to unpredictable and crazy birds. I mean, if that’s the dude you want, ladies, then stick to your plan of eating raw kale with celery flakes while trying not to pass out from exhaustion on the elliptical.

I’m not saying all this to be a dick, I’m saying it so that you stop trying so hard to become a living fantasy. Us guys don’t care and those of us who may press you into harboring these insecurities that you aren’t good enough because you simply looked at a Thin Mint, are assholes. Besides, those guys, like you, are just trying to compete with the impossible standards they’ve built up in their own minds in order to compete with the other like-minded fools of their same sex. Essentially, I guess this is just as much a post for those guys as it is for you starving girls.

Strive to be healthy, strive to have a good figure but know what that is. Because just as you can be too big and unhealthy, you can also be too small and unhealthy. Instead of silently and passive aggressively competing with your peers who are doing the same, why don’t you all just accept reality and support one another. Be healthy together, not insane against one another. And most importantly, enjoy life and eat a fucking cheeseburger once in a while.

Besides, a great cheeseburger is better than sloppy mediocre sex with one of those jacked up pretty boys that you think you’re doing all this for. You know the dudes I’m talking about; the ones who are looking in the mirror instead of at you during your weekly one night stand.

Retro Relapse: Ladies, I’m Not That Guy

RETRO RELAPSE is a series of older articles from various places where I used to write before Talking Pulp.

*Written in 2014.

I’m not going to start this with some disclaimer to overly placate to the easily offended or apologize for what I haven’t even said yet. Most of you probably won’t like what I have to say but I don’t care. You’d prefer honesty over pussy bullshit, right? Well probably not, which is why things have gotten to the point where I deem such a blog entry necessary.

Ladies, I am not your white fucking knight. Nor do I want to be. In fact, that guy doesn’t exist and I’d hate to break it to you but neither does Prince Charming. Disney lied to you; get over it. Of course, that doesn’t mean that some guys don’t try to put themselves in that role, albeit miserably.

The men of yore are dying or at least they’ve been hit with a genocidal level of complete emasculation. This is due to a combination of things but feminism, not the ideal but the movement, has been the biggest contributor to this loss of badass grizzly motherfuckers. Deadbeat dads are to blame too but I’ll write on that topic another day.

I understand what was the need for feminism and female pride and a fight for what should be considered and valued as equal; I support that myself. Where the problem lies however, is in the fact that what the feminist movement wants in its extremist position isn’t an equality of sexes per se, it is domination. Domination to the point where men are no longer men, women are the ruling class and we’ll have to reproduce via petri dishes because the government will have classified all sex as rape. Men would be deemed unfit as parents, their sperm would be property of the state and women would pick out their clothes. To many embracing the militant feminist ideal, this is what they envision as justice for their victimization. The victim becomes the oppressor because apparently one injustice needs to be rectified with a larger injustice.

Sure, these are extreme examples but they aren’t that far outside of reality with how these women feel and how our society is being indoctrinated with their feminist bullshit. You don’t believe that point? Well look at how many men are no longer men. Guys spend their time placating to girls incessantly. Their entire existence and thought process from the moment they wake up each day is centered around “the hunt”.

However, the hunt isn’t what it used to be where women were out trying to attract the best beau – not that that was a great formula either. I hate to generalize but nowadays it is dude’s standing in the corner of a bar, bobbing their heads, hoping that some girl will come talk to them because they walk on eggshells trying not to offend women with their advances or they are so afraid of them they don’t know how to just walk up to one and talk. Yes, there are guys who don’t give a shit and have no reservations about walking up to a woman and spitting their game. In many cases those guys are douchebags; in other cases they are good guys but that is becoming a rare thing. In retrospect, this is probably why women to a big degree get caught up in douchebags and drama because good guys are seemingly less accessible and all they are approached by are “pigs” – their words, not mine. And frankly, good guys are sick of that “all men are pigs” sentiment because it isn’t true.

What needs to be realized, is that there are guys that fit the good guy mold but choose not to play the game and have just opted out. Ladies, you probably can’t find them or don’t even notice them because they aren’t competing for your attention 24/7 and flashing you their glorious plumage. They’re not douchebags and they aren’t the weakling saps who you’ve labeled, cataloged and organized onto your “friend zone” shelf. These are guys that know what they want, do what they want and really don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about it. That doesn’t make them assholes, that just makes them self-assured and strong, confident men – something that should be applauded among the free-thinking individuals of the world.

On a personal level, when it comes to women, I want someone that has the same qualities I just talked about regarding the type of man above. Someone who is confident, strong and free-thinking. Someone who sees the folly of trying to eliminate masculinity and demonizing it but also doesn’t try to wrap guys around their finger and use them for whatever they see fit because they feel that it is justice being served or they just don’t know anything different because weakling saps pledge their allegiance to them the moment they develop semen. To be honest, I don’t blame women for acting this way. But that also doesn’t mean that I have to accept it as just a part of life. I see it as inherently wrong and hypocritical. In my life, I don’t accept it. When confronted with it, I usually call the girl out.

There are a lot of guys I have talked to lately who feel similar. There is a growing number of men who just don’t care about playing the game anymore and would rather direct their energy into more fruitful pursuits. Being one of those men, I feel that whether most of us realize it or not, it is one of the consequences of this world that the feminist movement has shaped. No we don’t hate women but we aren’t going to be bullied or mistreated by them either, as women shouldn’t be bullied or mistreated by men. At the end of the day, I don’t care and I can’t devote that much time to it. Time and energy are limited and I’d rather not waste either.

You see, it’s about working together not against one another and speaking not just for myself, I don’t think many of us care about the battle or what one side of the coin feels that they have to prove. We’re not all bigots and assholes and because of that, refuse to be treated as such or to harbor some sort of male guilt, causing us to be total pussies because being who we really are isn’t seen as politically correct or attractive anymore. Moral of the story, we don’t fucking care.

As far as I personally feel, at least right now, I don’t want to ever get married, I don’t want to get a girl pregnant and I want the freedom to do what I want to do. That doesn’t mean that I’m selfish or incapable of compromise, it just means that I have needs of my own that must be met. As far as marriage, being a man, I don’t see the point. Marriage is a lose/lose situation for men with the ways the laws have evolved and heavily favor the woman. Same thing goes for child custody. This doesn’t mean I am against a lifelong relationship or turned off by women who already have kids. But call me a “man child” or whatever bullshit derogative terms you have because that is easier than understanding some oppressive man’s diatribe about his point-of-view.

I now look around and see that more men are coming to similar realizations. Our attitudes are shifting because they have to. You get to a point when that survival instinct kicks in and it is happening. I see this as a good thing because truth is better than some manufactured societal lie about what men are now supposed to be. To those “men” apologizing for their kind, fuck you – you are part of the problem and are just fucking yourselves and all of us, really. I don’t expect a woman to apologize for her shit. If they’re assholes I just keep walking and don’t give them the time of day.

While men and women as vast groups may never truly understand each other at a core physiological and psychological level, individuals can understand one another. As long as there is that respect between you and your partner, that is really all that you need. There’s no gender war or at least there doesn’t need to be. Just be who you are and respect who others are too. But until that happens on a larger scale, women can enjoy their douchebags and pussies and those of us who don’t have the time to give a shit can work on being the badass motherfucking grizzlies we were born to be.

Funny enough, I always find someone when I’m not even trying.

‘Follow Your Passion’ Is Bullshit

*The Bullshit Series started on an older blog but I wanted to bring these articles back here, as I have new installments for the series that I want to release over time. The series focuses on things that I think are bullshit… like filet mignon, Zubaz pants, the Pro Bowl and diets.

*Written in 2015.

We’ve all heard it before, probably while in a rut too. Some famous know-it-all enlightened asshole with a platinum album at an awards show says it about two dozen times in a two-hour span. In fact, it is one of the trendiest things to say nowadays. People who haven’t even accomplished anything all that great like to espouse this nonsense as well. If everyone is saying it and it is found in endless memes, it must be true.

The nonsense I am talking about is the mantra “follow your passion.”

For starters, don’t tell me what the fuck to do. Also, shut the fuck up because you don’t know me or really what’s inside of anyone else and what they have been through and what they are currently going through. “Follow your passion” isn’t the answer to all of life’s problems and in fact, it can be horrible fucking advice. People are suckers for horrible fucking advice.

This marketing slogan for life resonates with people because it is simple and daring and thus, perceived as profound. It doesn’t matter that this seemingly profound enlightenment has become so common place that I have to scroll through it a half dozen times in my Instagram feed every morning.

Sure, following your passion can lead to great things and you may end up happy, successful and with everything you want. It may also leave you broke, confused, worse off than you were if you had just kept your job and pissed off at the universe because you followed pop culture’s sagely advice and aren’t a billionaire zen Buddhist with a house full of angeldust and passed out prostitutes.

I’m all for doing what makes you happy. That is kind of the point of life. In fact, people often try to figure out what the meaning of life is. I don’t know why that is so difficult. The meaning of life is pretty simple. The meaning of life is to LIVE IT. That’s it.

You have a life, now fill it with what makes you happy. But you also need to be realistic. So, here comes the part no one wants to hear, especially when “follow your passion” sounds so fucking cool.

There has to be a balance. Most of us aren’t talented like Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was talented. We can follow our passion but that doesn’t mean that we will have success. And the thing is, not everyone’s passion is a money maker. My passion is eating ribeye, drinking bourbon, having as much sex as possible and telling people to fuck off. What exactly can I do with that to make some serious money?

Additionally, many people, and I would say most, don’t have a real passion. And by real passion, I mean something that calls them to the point that it burns in their belly. We aren’t all singers and actors and great writers. Hell, most of us suck at arts, crafts, building things and pretty much a whole lot of other cool shit.

My passions are about eating good meat and putting my penis in something and that’s probably because I don’t have a real burning desire to do anything else. And again, this is most people. The vast majority of Earth’s population weren’t born for some mystical purpose with a Frodo Baggins destiny to fulfill. The world isn’t Middle Earth or a galaxy full of Jedi. We aren’t meant to drink from the Holy Grail, we are meant to live our lives and to try and enjoy it as much as we can in the limited time we’re given.

For most people, a passion is a hobby they like doing. For many, doing a hobby as a job is a horrible idea. Let me give a few personal examples.

A friend of mine loved cooking amazing food, as a paid chef in a fine restaurant, he hates it. He told me that he regretted that big life decision because it ruined what he once loved.

In my case, I went to school for computer programming because I enjoyed fucking around with code in high school. A semester and a half into college, it dawned on me that I didn’t want to write code for the next thirty years of my life.

Moving forward, I have always been creative and artistic and found myself working in that field. I now do graphic design and other artistic stuff for a living but I am not happy doing it – I am just really good at it. And maybe I am naturally an artist but it isn’t my passion. I just happen to have a high skill level, the talent and at the end of the day, it pays me well enough. And I’m not sure what I could do better.

That brings me to the other old adage that often accompanies “follow your passion” and that is “do what you love.” Both mean the same thing but the point is, doing what you love isn’t a key to happiness. Sometimes, doing what you love makes you love it less.

My friend is a chef because he needs to pay bills. I am a professional artist for the same reason. In both cases, what we love to do has become a curse of sorts.

When my friend cooks for himself and his family and friends, he is happy. When I am creative for myself, I am happy. But doing these things as a job is a totally different scenario. And if they were pretty hardcore passions, they have certainly lost their luster.

Contrary to popular belief, most people don’t have preexisting passions. Additionally, happiness in the workplace is quantified by many factors other than personal interests and passion. I like that I get three weeks off every year, to use that time to focus on whatever I want to without interruption. I also like that my job allows plenty of free time so I can dabble in more things that actually interest me. Plus there is a lot of freedom at my place of employment that I wouldn’t have elsewhere. These are happiness factors that work for me.

Also, sometimes a passion happens later. We may not know what we love because we haven’t experienced it yet. I often times joke that I could be the best golfer in the world but I’ll never know because I don’t have much interest in golfing. But if I golfed and found out that I had that skill, a new passion could flourish. This is why I always like trying new things outside of my comfort zone. But really, I have no interest in golfing despite my amazing putt-putt skills.

Elaborating on that, passion doesn’t necessarily exist naturally and often times it takes hard work and cultivation. And sometimes, passion can be born from cultivating a skill set that you initially didn’t have much interest in until you had to do it.

A personal example of this, is that I recently had to confront an engineering issue with a product in my company. Everyone was baffled at how to make the product function properly. I took it apart, analyzed it and figured out how to modify it mechanically. I found out that I really liked solving this problem and discovered a passion for mechanical engineering that I never knew I had because I had never been confronted with it. Now I love taking on these sorts of tasks and if I had a time machine, I might go back and tell my younger self to follow that path. Not that I can’t follow it now.

But there is no guarantee that I would enjoy mechanical engineering as my actual primary job.

As time moves on, people change and grow and with that, their passions may alter. I was passionate about a lot of different things in the past that I am not passionate about now. At first I wanted to be a firefighter, then a G.I. Joe, then a mad scientist, then a comic book artist, then a rapper, then a computer programmer, then an MMA fighter, then a gigolo, then a paid artist. Point is, shit changes.

So lets be adults here. “Follow your passion” all you want but you have to make money to survive. If you are a special breed that can do what you love for a living and find happiness in that, good for you. But for the rest of us, we have to take care of living expenses, families and other things.

Does that mean you ignore your passions?

No, not at all. Unless you are chained to your desk for 168 hours per week, you have free time to spend however you want. If you don’t have free time, maybe you need to find a job that allows you to have a life away from work. The secret isn’t following your passion, it is work/life balance. With proper balance, your passions can flourish.

Now if your passions start to make you money, enjoy it. But keep your damned job until you know you’re alright financially. Quitting tomorrow because you have a burning desire to paint trees is probably a bad life decision.

I’m all about passion but I am about setting goals, preparing and having a plan of attack. I’m not telling you not to take risks but just like “follow your passion” is mostly bullshit, so is “risk equals reward.” While great reward can be born from taking a risk, there is no guarantee. It is called risk for a reason and it is better to be prepared and to know what you are walking into than to just leap off of a cliff into the fog below.

“Follow your passion.” Sorry, life is too complex for that.

Go ahead and make your life meaningful, we all should strive for that. Just don’t be an idiot.

Big Sunglasses Are Bullshit

*The Bullshit Series started on an older blog but I wanted to bring these articles back here, as I have new installments for the series that I want to release over time. The series focuses on things that I think are bullshit… like filet mignon, Zubaz pants, the Pro Bowl and diets.

*Written in 2014.

You may be reading the title of this post and be thinking, is he serious? Yes, I am pretty damned serious here. So why the hate for larger sunglasses? Well, that’s what I’m here to explain.

To start, this is for the ladies. I don’t care so much if a dude is wearing large sunglasses. If he is, I have to wonder about his overall masculinity but I’m not in the business of wanting to shag dudes, so I don’t really care if he wants to look like an idiot. He can keep his large sunglasses and skinny jeans in the corner with his other dude bros trying to out-sex each other while preying on 17 year-olds at Spring Break.

Moving on, let’s talk about your big sunglasses, ladies.

For one thing, they are too fucking big and cover up like 75 percent of your face. I don’t know how this is considered attractive and sexy and how this became the norm. I get it though, they block out more sun. Well, that’s the excuse anyway. The fact that they cover your entire face and are a gigantic billboard for whatever name brand shades you have an affinity for is probably a big part of your attraction to looking like some bug-eyed sex goblin whether at the beach or driving to Zoom Tan. For the record, if you’re not picking up on what I’m saying here, that shit’s not attractive.

No one really cares about what name brand sunglasses you’re wearing. Well, that is except for the other girls who are also wearing fuchsia-colored World War I motorcycle goggles. Stop competing with each other for who has the best glasses, it is childish and lame. Be more of a hardcore bitch because a hardcore bitch wouldn’t give a shit. For example, a lame childish chick would say something like, “Oh hey girly, you didn’t say anything, so I am assuming you didn’t notice these 50 lb. Leche Bananas that are covering my entire face!” The hardcore bitch would then respond with something like, “Who the fuck are you? Why are you wearing a motorcycle helmet? Fuck off.”

Additionally, another point that has to be made about these monstrosities is that you aren’t going to attract a proper mate with these alien face-huggers stuck to your face. For instance, I once had a girl come up to me who said it was great hanging out with me the previous day at some bar on the beach. I was like, “Yeah, who the fuck are you?” And then she told me and it clicked! “Oh yeah, I didn’t recognize you because your entire face was covered by sunglasses yesterday!” Then I remembered that the entire time I was talking to the girl on the previous day, that I couldn’t determine if she was attractive because I couldn’t see anything other than her little nose and tiny mouth. And this isn’t a one-off incident, it happens a lot. Half the time, I think the chicks are attempting to hide some gnarly scar or something.

I’m not trying to sound like a superficial douchebag here but the fact of the matter is, when you’re vibing with another human being and there just might be a bit of a spark, you’d like to see their face, right? I can’t tell you how many girls have ruined their game with me because I couldn’t see their face. The face tells a lot, the face is beautiful, don’t be afraid to show it off. Talking to a girl with giant fucking sunglasses is like talking to a priest behind a confessional screen. It’s just so impersonal and awkward.

When it comes to the excuse of wearing giant sunglasses because they block out more of the sun, I’m calling bullshit. For starters, I never wear sunglasses because I hate things on my face. That being said, I live in Southwest Florida where the sun is mighty intense and I am also prone to migraines. I still never wear sunglasses and I do just fine. Now when I have worn them for whatever odd reason, normal-fitting decent sized sunglasses did the job and kept the sun out of my eyes. Sunglasses aren’t hard to understand and use. When used correctly, decent sized ones work. You chicks mean to tell me that you can use a hundred different video effects apps to produce wicked Vines all day but you can’t figure out how to wear a proper pair of sunglasses?

I think I’ve made my point and there isn’t much else I really need to add. What we’ve got here is just another case of chicks being ridiculous because they’re too concerned with what other chicks think and ultimately are pushing away men who are of a better stock than the mickey-slipping beaus they usually shack up with.