Nerd Alert

I sort of look like an AIDsy, Zac Efron. You know, I’m really good looking but I’m so thin and frail typing on my little computer on the floor with only the seven empty wine glasses placed variously around to keep me company. But in a cute way. I’m also a huge nerd. I used to watch Star Wars, The Matrix, and Charlie’s Angel’s every day of my life. I don’t know WHAT my parents thought of me.

The thing about being a nerd is you want everyone else to revel in your nerd-dom with you. For example, I tried for years to get my best friend, Megan, to watch X-Men, LOTR, Star Trek, etc. Then, she meets this guy and she’s all like, “Matthew wants to see Iron Man 3 when I see him next weekend! Can we watch the first two!? Stop drinking my wine.” And of course I want to watch them with her but I secretly resent that it took a straight guy (who she’s in love with and he’s in love with her and blah blah blah) to do it. I mean, I guess my nerd points don’t count as much because I don’t cuddle with her while Jigsaw tortures people and he does. So.

So now that she’s riding the nerd train (pun intended) we watched Lord of the Rings. I really wished that I would have thought to record her because she sobbed. SOBBED when Gandalf died in Fellowship. I think the only time I’ve ever seen her that sad was when I told her to stop chewing with her mouth open and she ate the rest of her dinner crying by herself at the kitchen table. The good news is, I did have the foresight to film her when Gandalf came back!

She had no idea I was filming her.

I clearly watch a lot of movies and TV I don’t have cable or internet so every time I want to watch Game of Thrones I have to go to use Starbucks internet. This is stupid because Game of Thrones is the best show of all time but it has more naked people than The Buckle has douche customers. I’ll be trying to watch my favorite show and then some person will walk by or sit right behind me just as the naked people start to get naked. And I’m like, “Damn, kitty. Can’t a little gay boy illegally watch naked people at Starbucks?”

I also like to pretend that the characters in the movies that I watch have altered states of reality. Like, how funny would it be if Spider-man was actually a huge pot head? He smokes a fat bowl and then his spider sense goes off and he’s like, “Ok. Get up from the couch right now and go fight bad guys. On the count of three, stand up. Ok, after the Magic Bullet infomercial is over, count to three and stand up. Where are my chips?”

One time I had every single Harry Potter LEGO set available and I connected all of them together to create Mega-Hogwarts and I thought I was the coolest person on earth but then I accidentally knocked it over and I cried.

Gay: I have a boyfriend. Gay: I have Grindr. Nerd: I don’t need my Grindr anymore so I decided to create a new profile!

I had some great conversations but these were the best.  The first one was with a guy we’ll call “Green Dot.”

  

  

                So then I talked to Jimmy!

                  Jeff was hilarious. 

 

                 And then this guy made me laugh the most. He sincerely thought that he could still procure a hookup from a guy with a Voldemort profile. 

What can we learn from being a gay nerd? If anything, you will be able to hold a Grindr conversation for more than at least five minutes. I CAN NOT WAIT TO SEE PACIFIC RIMJOB!

Just About How Funny and Clever I Am

                 I’ve written about college speech before but I finally just got a video of my speech at Nationals! I got third place but it really felt like first because I didn’t poop myself (I had done that twice already that week from nerves) and I didn’t go crazy. Sometimes when I’m in front of a bunch of people who let me talk for a long time, I go crazy and start telling my favorite necrophilia jokes or my best black joke. And then after that happens people don’t think I’m as funny anymore because they’re “best friend is a necrophiliac” or they’re “black” and then they get “angry” and then I have to be “sorry.”

                Also, I wrote this speech in January 2012 with a pretty funny Dick Clark joke. Then, Dick Clark died on the first day of the tournament. The same day, I got a horrible text from this guy who I used to be in love with that made me more anxious than a pigmy horse surrounded by seven regular sized, drunk horses.

Pigmy horse: Hey guys, let’s be cool. Let’s be cool.

Drunk horse #1: Look at his tiny legs! I- I bet we can fit him in my little sister’s dress up clothes!

                The people sitting at the table in the middle of the room are the judges. The kid with the gay voice talking about gay things is me. Lalalalala here’s a third place speech. 

             

U Stoopid

                 I like to think that I’m a smart person. I’m not. I create these imaginary scenarios in my head where I think that everything will just work out. Like just last December I was like, “I want to be home for Christmas so I’ll just quit my job and drive across the country and it’ll be fine.” So my friend, Nelly and I decided to do just that. And everything was fine except that my credit card declined in Tennessee and we stayed at Motel Ratchet with axe murderers on the loose.

 Or later on the drive when I was writing checks to pay for my gas and beef jerky, I would say to myself, “Oh. I had to prepay $30 for this gas but only $26 will fit in my tank. I’ll just squeeze the rest into my car.” Gasalloverme.

                My best friends from Disney were Nelly, Airielle, and Jen. Jen is one of THE MEANEST people I’ve ever met. She’s seems all nice and sweet and then when your metaphorically dressed like you’re asking for it, she pounces with her words and is all, “Whaaat? I’m not mean. But fo real doe, Brad, you look like a hunchback.” And she doesn’t let you get away with anything. The second you make a mistake Jen pops up like some horrible, Hispanic leprechaun to inform you that, “You stupid. No but seriously doe, you duuumb.” So the other day when the stove caught on fire and I said to myself, “What a great photo opportunity!” a little Jen in the back of my head scoffed, condescendingly poked my nose and said “Stoopid stoopid.”

                     Megan just watches the fire. I take a picture. 

                And I say to myself, “These jeans look so great on me. When is my credit card payment due? You don’t even have to worry about whether your boss wants to sleep with you.” Jen, “Brad, your butt looks good. You gotta ba-donk! Seriously doe, your butt is big."

       I just found out the other day that I had to file taxes. My parents and I were eating lunch and the conversation went something like this-

Me: Oh, so my taxes…

Dad: Yeah you gotta take care of those.

Me: I don’t know how. So maybe I’ll just skip them this year. I’m not going to get that much money back anyway.

Step-mom: You realize that the government isn’t a bank. You realize that you have to file your taxes. You realize that I didn’t give birth to you so your idiocy has no reflection upon me or my wicked plot to rule the kingdom.

By that last part I was checked out and trying to figure out how to use my chopsticks in a way that accentuated my slender Ethiopian arms.

                So I say to myself, “Nobody will notice this zit. Everything about me is stunning and radiant.” Jen says, “Whoa, Brad is that a huge zit on your face? You need to take care of that. No fo real doe. That thing’s gigantic.”

                 One time I went to Barnes and Noble and the wind caught the door of my car and it totally busted up the door of the car next to mine. So I call my dad and he tells me to go inside and ask one of the employees to announce the plate of the car over the intercom. Well that’s not the answer I wanted to hear so I called my mom and she goes, “Well did anybody see it?” And I said “no” so she told me to just park my car in a different spot and pretend it didn’t happen. So I do and I’m on my merry way just drinking a mocha in the café thinking, “Everybody wishes they could be me. I get away with everything. My hair is the best.” Then, my dad calls and asks what happened.

Me: Oh, hey, yeah. I talked to the people and they were totally cool with it. They were really nice and they totally didn’t care.

Dad: Brad, I am so proud of you. You did the right thing and it all worked out.

Me: Yep.

                Just a few days ago, I ran out of gas when I was only five miles outside of the city. I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW THAT HAPPENED! One minute I was like, “Ugh, why is this drive so long. I have plenty of gas. Only my right butt check hurts.” And the next minute I’m stranded with %6 battery left on my phone. So I pulled off onto the exit and decided to take a nap until someone called me back to come save me. Ten minutes later two cops and an ambulance showed up being like, “Are you dead?” And I was like, “No.” Apparently, someone drove by and was worried about me but not worried enough to stop and check themselves. Officer Dennis is nice enough to drive me home and on the drive I’m all, “See! You have the best luck! The police are awesome! You’re so lucky. Mwah. Love you.” But when I get back I realize that I had locked my keys in my car.

So once I say to me, “Be yourself.” And Jen says, “You dumb.”

 A couple weeks ago I decided that I had to get off my fat ass and do the dishes so naturally I put on some music. Then, the drain clogs and I get really anxious because I hate the garbage disposal so much. I think it’s dark and scary and it’ll hurt me. It’s like the house’s vagina. So I turn it on and I hear this horrible noise. I look and there’s a fork being blended by the vulva. So I’m like, “Stop being an idiot. Just reach inside and pull it out and it will be fine. Everything is fine. Nothing can hurt you because you’re a white, male, American. You’re fine.” I reach inside and I try pulling it out and discover that the fork is somehow wedged and stuck. And just as Whitney Houston starts belting, “AAAANNND IIII-EE-IIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOUUUU,” I realize that I hadn’t even turned off the garbage disposal. I hadn’t even turned off the fucking garbage disposal. Whatthefuckiswrongwithme. A labia almost ate my hand.

What can we learn from the mentally challenged, delusional gay kid? And I say, “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal. I’m so thin. Everything will work out. Let’s just go to Vegas! Omg I just threw up in someone’s bed. Oh, well!”

RATCHET

                I checked out a guy at work for a good five minutes before I realized he was mentally handicapped. I was mortified… That I didn’t get his number. I feel like most people know what the word “ratchet” means. Black people think to themselves, “Obviously. She ratchet.” White people think, “A socket wrench, duh. I’ll stop by Menards on my way home from Panera and pick one up.” Well, I’m white and I didn’t know what it meant for some time and I spelled it r-a-c-h-e-t until I looked up the proper spelling on urbandictionary.com right before I wrote this example.

               My life the past four months has been the embodiment of this word. Hence, making sexy eyes at a hotty with an endocrine imbalance. I can’t help it. I want to celebrate. I mean, I’m graduated (basically). I’m young (36 in gay years). I have a good job (nope). I have a job (nope). So I should be able to do whatever I want whenever I want. *He opens the top of a box of wine, pulls out the bag, and squeezes the rest of the Franzia into his mouth like Frodo on the dry slopes of Mount Doom.

                One example of what I’m talking about is the night I spent some quality time with my neighbors. My friend, Nelly was with me and we were out of alc so we stopped by their place to “catch up” and “be friends.” So I have a straight raspberry vodka (straightest thing about me) and I’m playing entertainer and saying offensive and horrible things and I say, “Just let me know if anything I say is over the line.” And the apartment in consensus says, “It’s all over the line but you’re hilarious!” And I’m like, “I know.” So then, these girls walk in and they’re talking to the boring roommate, Bryan, so I’m not paying attention to anything they’re saying. Keep in mind these girls are wearing tube dresses and six inch gold hooker heels. So then the girls leave and I don’t remember saying this but apparently I shouted, “You guys paid for prostitutes and didn’t even have sex with them?” Bryan looks at me and says, “That was my sister.” Then, I say, “Oh. How big is her pussy?” RATCHET. I can’t believe I didn’t get beat up that night. But they encouraged meeee!!! No big. Got smashed. Didn’t get my face smashed. Got kicked out, though.

                People are always like, “You can’t drink alcohol and lose weight.” I keg to differ. Just eat two packets of Raman a day with Diet Dr. Pepper and a handful of peanuts. Then you can afford the calories and the drinks! Seriously, it works. I lost fifteen pounds.

                I went to a Christmas party this year and the party was themed, “Gay Christmas.” I wanted my friend Ryan to be Joseph because Joseph was obviously gay. He was! Mary was the chosen one, right?  And she was a virgin her whole life, right? And then God had to work his magic just to get her pregnant, right?! Just sayin’. Anyway, there are only homos and girls at this party so it was a psychologist’s wet dream. We’re having a good time and after everyone’s had a couple drinks this couple walks in. I know Matt but I hadn’t met his new boyfriend, Taylor yet. Taylor is one of the thinnest people I have ever met. He looked like a Kaminoan from Star Wars. But in a good way!

They make the proper introductions and they’re there for only about five minutes before I shout, “LET’S PLAY A GAME!” And everyone’s like, “Ok.” And I say, “I think we should all take bets on how much Taylor weighs!” Then, another homo, Stephen yells at everyone to wait and he runs to grab a scale. And then we actually made him do it. AND I WON THE GAME! I was only four pounds off. He was 5’11 and weighed 125lbs. It’s not bullying if it’s funny.

                I watched a kid pee into a plastic bag in front of me. When he was done, he handed the bag to his mother and she put it in her purse. That’s how people roll at Disney. I hope the bag broke open while she rode the ride.

                My friends and I went to the gay bar a couple weeks ago and Jen got kicked out. Isn’t that the most embarrassing? How do you get kicked out of a gay bar? I’ll tell you, she fell asleep leaning against a wall.

                I saw Steven Tyler at work. He was short. And ratchet.

                I accidentally sprayed a little girl in the face with silly string at Wal-mart.

Nelly and I went to a paint party in November and that night may have been the most ratchet night of my life. We began by taking the party bus to this bar in downtown Orlando. By the time we arrived we had successfully shared a bottle of cake vodka. We received four free drinks thanks to Nelly’s persuasion. We only enjoyed two of them because we kept falling over. The floor was slippery with paint, rum, and regrets!

I woke up the next day with green pubes. Every hair follicle on my body was encrusted with a rainbow selection of paints. I discovered later that I had a terrible cut on my arm that I told everyone was a zombie bite. I tried to start a fight with a stupid girl and then pretended that it was her fault and then everyone was on my side. I made out with Nelly while she peed up against a wall. Twice. (The cops were out to play so we were keepin our bladders on the DL).

What have we learned about being ratchet? You lose all sense of discrimination. Not only have I checked out that mentally handicapped guy, I’ve also been more open minded to sleeping with cab drivers, clowns, boring people, sleeping people, dead people, Flava Flav, and horses.