Timely

New post, huzzah and at least one kudos to me.

With that, I thank any of my readership that remains, if any at all. Needless to say, my ability to post in a timely manner is minimal if not nonexistent. Though, timeliness as a hole isn't my strongest suits. It is my hope that this can change, and that I'll start posting a little more frequently. However, I'm not only lacking in punctuality, but also in ideas. Please feel free to comment below, e-mail at lopeza382@gmail.com or find me through some other form of social networking - which I may or may not get back to at some point - and give me some ideas.I know I'm certainly not any of the things I have previously mentioned, but you dear readership, must think I'm many different things still. Tell me, so I can prove you wrong, hopefully in an entertaining fashion. 

The Lopez out... for now.

Celebrating Valentine's Day

   As many of you most certainly know, it's Valentine's Day - a realization that you already have made either through crushing responsibility to someone else, thus rushed a get them something, or through crushing loneliness that had you rushing to get yourself to the safety of your bedroom.

And she even got a Valentine. Rough times.

   "But The Lopez, Valentine's Day was yesterday. It's over with." Right you are, fictional person that I talk to for an hour once a night. However, that is why I write today, to present to you the greatest part of Valentine's Day

My Little Pony candy. My readership just exploded.

   The candy. Not just the candy though, the candy sales. Certainly people across the nation understand the beauty of this post-holiday holiday. The inexpensiveness, the lack of obligation to each other, activities that  do nothing but give us diabetes. We don't even have to fake love or other foreign, commercialized feelings anymore, but simply enjoy the candy.

Kind of like the day after Halloween, but with less whorish police walking home the next morning.

   I personally spent Valentine's Day working, watching how elementary school girls had their names horribly spelled onto cheap stock valentines, discussing how they don't want certain boys to give them a valentine. Conversely, I then watched the boys freak out over who to give their valentines to, and also make fun of the boy who gets the most.

"He's the one who opened his young heart to us. Get him!"

   With a work-filled, lonely Valentine's Day, I knew the only reprise I would have from it was the cavity -inducing amounts of candy that would be consumed the next day. So I say screw the Valentine pre-tenses, let's all just get wasted on shitty chalk hearts, toothpaste-filled chocolates, and lollipops, and forget about the love-based reasons for celebrating Valentine's Day. Now, if you'll all excuse me, there is a heap of three day old candy ripe for the pickings at Wal-Mart.

The nation's one-stop shop for lonely holidays.

Watching the Superbowl

   As I ride along on a oddly chilly train, heading back to a basement that I will inevitably be told I have to help clean, I suddenly recognize a great injustice that had been dealt to me and all of my fellow train passengers - we are not getting to watch the superbowl this evening.

Except this guys with his laptop in the Cafe Car. I guess he has the best Wi-Fi.

   I realized the tremendous suffering that we were having to go through. For the past two weeks, I was guaranteed a great bounty of milk and honey. Milk and honey in the form of pizza, chicken wings, pigs-in-a-blanket- several dips of varying deliciousness, beer, water, beer, cheese, crackers, beer, celery and carrot trays, beer, and the ability to sit on a couch for three and a half hours uninterrupted with a beer.

And that's just the first twenty minutes

   It was a travesty, this lack of football on the train. This was obviously a holiday that we train-riders would not have the chance to celebrate. We didn't even get to make a long weekend out of it. it felt liked being blue-balled by my own television, and then satisfying everyone else I knew. "What a whore." I stated directly into the situations face. But, inspiration hit me like a Nokia hits the floor.

   After getting inspiration off of me, and receiving the necessary medical care, I started a letter the the president. It was a letter explaining how we have been sold out by your government without causes or thought of our well-being. We had rights, and they were being taken away for reasons that were just simply unethical. A long time ago, we were promised 'a chicken in every pot, and a car in every garage.' And while those things have obviously been to everybody, we have been leaving out something that our forefathers most certainly meant for us to have: a national Superbowl Day. We celebrate just about everything else we enjoy in this country, including birthdays...

   Religious holidays, like Christmas and Easter...

   And other, slightly less important holidays, like Labor Day, Cinco de Mayo, and Leif Erikson Day.

Yes it's a drawing, but that's because VIKINGS DON'T EXISTS ANYMORE!

   With that, please write to your congress-person; even if you don't actually like football nor the super bowl, you at least watch for the commercials. Join me in stating that there is no bigger issue that this country - the greatest country - suffers from, then from the inability for everyone, man or woman, big or small, of any creed, color or lifestyle to sit anywhere and enjoy the rightfully earned entertainment that the world over respects and delights in watching,

   I will not rest until each pot of chicken, and every car-filled garage comes with a big ass screen, showing football. Besides, everyone knows the only people that don't watch football are communists.

Communists like this guy.

A Corporate Whore (just a blogging one)

   Hello to the new year, and possibly (yes?) our last one together, my hopefully loyal, yet meager readership. And speaking of readerships...

!!!!!!

   ...Quiet down, Newspaper, you had your chance!

   ~Ahem~ As I was saying, speaking of readership, I have come to the realization that there are several other talented-but-not-as-much-as-me bloggers I know that both support me (duh), and definitely should be given a shot. That said, if none of you mind - or actually enjoy my attempts at witticisms - I would suggest forwarding mine, or other peoples (all of which will be linked below) to your friend. And yes, I am assuming you only have one.

Above: My having less friends then you.

   So, if you are a philanthropist with a soft spot for bloggers, or just like wasting your internet time, please browse, read, forward, comment, or whatever else one does to a blog after they read it.

http://emily-mucha.blogspot.com/

http://onemanlaughtrack.blogspot.com/

http://nice-dice.blogspot.com/

http://zachhigginsis.tumblr.com/

http://www.pattonpotatoes.com

   Dammit Newspaper! Don't make me take off my belt!

   So, yes. Please read. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bone to pick with a certain myself out in Australia.

  Name-thieving bastard,

A Bear, Part II - Not in Hibernation

   With the Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/ whatever else that counts as a holiday experience being over, people have once again begun to retell poorly conceived bear jokes at my expense. In fact, it was only two days ago that was faced with a very public attempt at my humanness. I was going to a dance club, when door security came up to me...

Me: "Do I pay my cover to you?"

Security Guy A: "I'm sorry, we have a 'No Bears Allowed' policy."

Me: "...lolwut?"

   Apparently a friend of mine works security, and had told his co-workers of my arrival. I was eventually asked 'What's with the bear joke?' by Security Guy A, only to answer with the following:

"General tool-iness, good sir. Immense douche-baggery."

   So, in short, I am still not a bear. It is now the season of winter, and I am not hibernating. Bears hibernate. I celebrated the holiday season; name a bear that has done that.

   Dammit.

   Either way, I already dealt with the Yogi Bear thing in my first post (read it) and had already shown how Yogi Bear and I have nothing in common. And since Yogi is the most popular anthropomorphic ursine since Teddy Ruxpin, I can say with confidence that he is the golden standard of who or what is a bear.

   So, what more could be said for the sake of my not bear-hood? Well, how about an abridged version of how this joke came into existence in the first place? Like how I technically made it up?

   Many years ago, in a distant school in Albany, New York, I once told the tale of how everyone should imagine a boring speaker to be their favorite animal. It was a test of people's creativity, and a very humorous idea to think of; Imagine! An anthropomorphic smorgasbord of teachers and professors. The thought amused many, and it was good.

I have the fear that Disney could sue me at any time for this idea.

   One day, I apparently was being exceptionally boring, and one amongst the crowd shouted "BEAR!", and pointed at me. Everyone looked at me intently, as I was attempting to quickly disprove their conjecture.

"I am no bear. You have no proof." said I. But it was too late. The crowd had glazed over with irrational thinking, to the point where even the most persuasive lawyer could not change their minds.

   And so it was, without proof, reason, nor legal counselling, the public sees me as a bear.

   No! Not THAT kind of bear!

  Yes, that bear.

   But it's not true. I am not a bear. And I am yet to have a really convincing argument in favor of my bear-hood. So to you, the general bear-obsessed public, screw yourselves, and realize that I don't live in the woods. I am Adam Lopez, not a bear.

...Dammit.

Good at Gift Giving - A Holiday Shoppers Guide.

   As I stated in my last post, this Holiday season has been particularly brutal for me. In fact, I'd go as far to say that the only thing that I own that resembles a holiday spirit is the gin and tonic sitting on my shelf/work drawer/pocket flask/behind the computer.

Gin usually tastes like a Christmas tree. Especially after the third or fourth.

   That said, I still have enough guilt built into me to make me have to buy presents for friends and family. With that, allow me a final gulp of liquid Christmas tree (that's gin, in case you didn't read the caption) and I will layout a fool proof play on how to buy for loved ones.

<Gulp!>

   With the need to be both somewhat altruistic and impressive to your family - mostly because you didn't remember that one sibling's birthday - you need to take great care in learning the interests of your family members. This will prove to be helpful, even beyond the gift-giving holiday, because then you can constantly buy them the same thing for any occasion.  

Christmas gift for the sister Lopez, 12 years running.

   But, on the off chance that you feel like being creative, or perhaps your brother beat you to the sock punch, always remember that your family members used to be people. There was a time where they went out, and did fun things, like ice skate, or listen to music, or even showered. I would recommend buying the family member that was the least responsible something that will remind them that they once were fun, but are now just a husk of what they once were. A husk with a job and/or child(ren). Remember though, try to have the gift be heart-felt - it will make other family members have to guess whether they are crying out of sadness of their forlorn days, or because they are actually touched by your gift.

   Well said, Mr. Hanks.

   Perhaps you have a friend or family member that is more into technology, or other expensive-therefore-obscure interest. The best present for them would be a gadget they already have, but from a different brand or company. This strategy is can work out in multiple ways: one way is that your friend/family member is a jerk, and will just end up returning the gift since you accidentally left the receipt taped to the device. Then they will receive the money, which is probably the most useful gift of all.

   Because family togetherness doesn't pay the bills.

   Another possible scenario is that your friend/family member isn't a jerk, but can be very neglectful of things at times. If you can ensure that the gadget that they are ultimately going to give them is something you would like as well, then all you have to do is wait about 3 weeks, and then ask to borrow that 'thing I gave you for Christmas.' With any luck, they'll just say keep it for as long as you want, and you'll have your own gift - which will probably be still in the package, meaning it's still in working condition.

She received the same present 4 Christmases in a row, and yet she's still surprised.

   Of course, if you are cheap, almost considerate, and good with your hands, you could always make your gift recipient something. I recommend following the same kind of thinking used above when making something though; that way you could have a new desk instead of your schmuck of a brother who's just going to clutter it anyway. Or, for more entertaining purposes, make something for you gift recipient and be bad with your hands - that way, you will either be pleasantly surprised at your handiwork, or you will be told to just get them a card with a lotto ticket in it (great advice for the last minute altruist).

Both for comfort and for the environmentally conscious. Also, it's better then a clay ashtray - use that argument to show that you are at least thinking outside of the first-grade art class box.

   Now, if you are the silly few that still get married and are in the mood to have that marriage last a while still, holiday gift giving can be tricky. It is a time to show your special someone that you are thinking of them, in hopes that your gift will distract them until Valentine's Day, when you invaribly think about them again. For this situation a I recommend a shaking things up. First, a bottle of almost fine wine, bought either off the internet, or the corner store a few blocks down. That should lighten the mood of the gift giving process, if not just make it more forgetful.

Nothing says 'holidays' like boozing. That said...


<Gulp!>

   Once you've successfully drunk yourselves into a stu<hic!>por, or simply put the wine down for a ch<hic!>ange, you can begin the giffting. As I said, shake it up a bit this year, and have a little bit of role-reversal. Get your significant other the thing you would like the most; if you would like a power drill, give him/her/it a power drill; if you'd like a sexy santa's helper themed lingerie, give it/her/him that instead. It will either be a great laugh, a learning experience, or the reason you can't be in the same room as your significant other anymore. Either way, a good i<hic!>dea.

   I hope that this advice can help you in your holiday shopping endave... indov... thing. Now, go out there, get some liquid pine tree, and make the best damn macaroni portrait ever - your dad will love it. As for myself, there's a box of wine with a bow and my name of it.

Surviving the Holdays

   I'm back readers, and have become more powerful then you could ever imagine. By more powerful, however, I more sincerely mean fatter. I've only recently awakened out of my Thanksgiving food/tryptophan coma - which came directly after my Halloween candy cesspool experience - and am now in time to discuss the rest of the holiday season. And how I'm totally incapable of enjoying most of it. (Cue 'oh, he's anti Christmas' comments (if any comments))

   Mostly because I hate socks, and getting them.

   Besides that though, I cannot possibly enjoy the holiday season because of how not prepared or properly geared for it. First in the list of grievances is how vomit-inducingly expensive everything has become. I'm genuinely stuck between being a responsible adult and paying my rent and feeding myself, or being a good, seasonally altruistic person and buy a present for one or five of my family members. And that's still excluding any friends I should buy for. Honestly, having to decide between a macaroni art portrait or eating the macaroni should never be a actual question. Anywhere.

Mostly because none of my friends are very fond of Rosie O'Donnell.

   The other thing is the terrible Christmas music. Jingle Bells and Deck the Halls haven't exactly been at the forefront of musical innovation since... well, since their invention. The Trans-Siberian Orchestra has since been the greatest thing to ever happen to Christmas, and even they have become stale. All I want for Christmas is not another replay of Mariah Carey's voice in the grocery store. Then again, there are those musicians I'm glad don't have a Christmas album.

   Good thing I have a Christmas album.

Oh. Nevermind. Apparently I don't have one, this guy does. Son of a Bitch.

   Lastly, is the food. While I am nothing but enthused about stuffing my face to the point of public embarrassment, the holiday season is the worst time to be eating vast sums of food. Between the dramatic changes in weather, the gaining an hour of sleep, and the sun being completely set by pretty much noon, eating this -

Will usually lead to this:

And last time I checked, I had to go to work. Therefore, I become a groggy, cranky, unbearable thing come Christmas time.

I think there's a pattern here.

   Well, whether you agree with me or not on the matter of Christmas, I do wish other people a good holiday. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go decorate a conifer tree with gaudy lights, call it a miracle, and then go get slap-happy tipsy off Egg Nog.