Cougartown...

Once again, people are seeking my advice about the great mysteries of life.  The subject at hand is dating.  Now, lucky for me, I married the girl of my dreams 7 years ago, and have managed to change the subject every time she starts to question her decision.  So my opinion on this subject comes from a very practical point of view.  When your single and horny, your mind is in survival mode.  This is often referred to as fight or flight.  Unfortunately, unless your prospect shows obvious characteristics of a serial killer, that collects human flesh, you'll generally fight (wrestling type, that usually takes place in a bedroom or rental car).  You see, all these crazy hormones when bottled up for soooo long, start bouncing around and prevent neurons from reaching your frontal brain lobes.  This is the part of the brain that controls impulsivity, attention, organization, etc.  Basically you're retarded...

Image via Wikipedia

So, love hungry cougars listen up!  Since you're currently experiencing a frontal lobe shutdown, I will balance you out with some practical knowledge.  

Lesson #1-  This is a hard fact to face ladies, but if you're searching for a dude over thirty and single, you might as well hunt the psych ward.  All the prime catches, such as myself , have been snatched up (of course I won't compare all others to me, because that would set the bar too high).  I had to take a whole week off of work just to sort through some pretty impressive dowries, after another week of negotiations I was able to get the women I wanted.  This is generally why cougars are forced to go for young meat, because they can afford it and they deserve someone who has yet to be declared crazy.  I suppose if the young are willing to satisfy the wildest dreams of the middle age, they too deserve a little somethin'.  I get it, it's a win-win.

Lesson #2- Social media is big!  If I were in the dating game, I would be a huge fan of this dating medium mainly because I'm lazy.  You can knockout the first 5-10 dates, while sitting on the couch with your laptop.  On the other hand, do you really want to get with someone as lazy as you?  How will the house every get cleaned?  People are reconnecting on facebook with people that they never had the chance to get with in high school.  Those are dangerous bottled up hormones at work, from an era in your life when control over such was next to impossible. This has become a horrible problem for many marriages too, which is why I don't friend former female classmates.  The problem with this hook-up method for those who are free to date, is that it's all completely driven by nostalgia.  We all know that the problem with nostalgia is that we only remember the good things.  Don't kid yourself, especially if you were raised in some po-dunk town in say... Montana.  You were fishing in a tiny sea in high school, it's time to think global.

Lesson#3-  Online dating is not much different from facebook, but it deserves our attention.  Beware!  Anyone can claim anything, or slightly fudge the facts online.  They could post a profile picture from their best looking days.  Think of me, I tell people how cool I am in nearly every post, yet if people really knew me, they would be blown away by the amount of awesomeness all bottled up in just one package.  The other thing about the internet is you might be hooking up with some 10 year old punk kid who's just messing with you.

So I've basically said what's wrong with different forms of modern dating and have offered almost no solutions.  So what do I propose...?

I don't know!  I'm not a dating expert.  My daily goals involve trying not to piss off my wife by 9am.  If I succeed, I shoot for noon.  Then 3, then 6, and so on.  I've rarely made it passed 3 and that's why I love her... cuz she's still here.

Chin up horn balls, don't settle for less just because it's convenient...

Here's a little education for y'all.  I strive to delivery a learning experience.

• What Are the Lobes of the Brain? (brainz.org)
• Will Brain Surgery Cure My Schizophrenia? (everydayhealth.com)
• Frontal Lobes (calla5.wordpress.com)

Fellow Earthlings...

Dr Humble Friends,

The word is spreading.  People are coming to get some ramble all up in their brains.  And I aim to give the people what they want.  Some times when I'm walking down the street, people stop me and ask If I'm really the Creator.  At first I play coy, mainly because I don't know at what point my fans began referring to me as the Creator (Not that it bothers me at all), I also like to let them know that I'm used to the attention.  I sign a couple autographs and quote a few inspired lines.  Then, with tears of joy in their eyes, they depart.  Am I a miracle worker or just another super-hero?  Personally, I don't like to get all caught up in titles and what not.  I'm just trying to fulfill my calling here on this planet.  After which, I'm sure I'll be asked to rule some other planet.

So I want to thank those of you who believe in me and know that we're on to something big here.  And to those of you who think your too cool to read my blog: first of all, it's impossible to be too cool for this and second, screw you and the crappy little tricycle that you rode in on!  We don't need any wannabe, jealous punks (this part is mainly aimed at my father-in-law, he thinks he's sooooo cool.  Wrong Buddy!).

But seriously folks, we've got to upsell this baby.  There are tight jean wearing teen-agers, old wrinkly people, y gente de todo modo.  So spread the word, that there's an education to be found at quiet-ramblings.com.  If you look at the bottom of your screen you'll see we're about to break 900 visits.  But we don't think on small levels here (also a jab at my father-in-law).  Let's bust through 1,000 before this weekend.  If you love it let me hear you make some noise!  I said, if you love it make some noise!  Now post this bad boy on your Facebook page and tell all your homies where it's at.  You're all too kind.

Till the next ramble, play on playa's...

Dislike option on Facebook inevitable...

Image via Wikipedia

And this guy's my hero.

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

This guy is my competition.

I was reading an article on CNN and wanted to share it with all the soccer Mom inthusiasts that might be tapped into my Facebook page.  However, in good conscience, I could not find it in me to thumb up the article.  Even though, it said recommend to Facebook you still had to hit the thumb up icon.

Mouthy kids:
For anybody curious to see the article click here.  Now don't get me wrong I'm a big fan of over-zealous soccer moms, but I think this lady's tactics are a little harsh.  This domestic tyrant decided to completely do away with democracy in her home.


The Agenda:
For those of you who know me well I've been petitioning for quite some time to add a dislike button to facebook.  To my greatest sorrow, I've failed at every attempt.  So the question of the day- How closely

Here we go round the merry-go-round...

Dear Humble Followers,

I've spent another night blazing through the internet, all in the name of Love.  That's right I'm here to serve you and your many friends that keep on coming.  Speaking of you're friends, somebody has some homies in far off places.  Just check out these stats-

United States 367 Malaysia 5 Canada 4 United Kingdom 4 Japan 4 Germany 2 Singapore 2 Moldova 1 So you're growing in numbers.  At this point it would be completely acceptable to start arguing about who find this most amazing blog first.  I still throw it in the face of all those haters, that took so long to warm up to The Office, that I've been watching since day uno.  Let's say I have an eye for these things.  That's all part of what makes me a pretty big deal. So you may have noticed that I am constantly expressing my art and OCD simultaneously, by the constant changing of the layouts.  I decided to go with a cleaner look.  I've also added all kinds of gadgets and gear all over the site.  My latest item of note, that almost led me to throw the computer out the window, is an actual fan page on Facebook.  It took me forever to figure out why it wasn't posting all my posts as updates. Look folks, I'm bustin' my balls here to bring on this revolution.  I hope you all ride this rush to your next freedom train.  I recommend doing a cram session every sunday night.  Just when you get hit in the stomach with that dreadful feeling, that life as we've allowed it is about to continue its dreadful weekly cycle, come on over and I'll take care off you.  You need to get that rage in you that makes you walk into work Monday morning and not just saying, but truly believing that you own the place.  Trust me when you bring it at that level, with those crazy blood stained eyes, your boss will be bringing you coffee in the morning. The results are in on the side project (AmericasGreatestStory.com) and after analytical comparisons and proper curving I've determined the following:  Nobody gives an uff (uff is the bleep out sound for the F-bomb in Eminem's radio version songs, I think they run out of ideas when they try to sensor him.)  So I'm in no hurry to get crackin' on that story, unless the aliens return to abduct me yet again.  In that case, I would have plenty story to tell. Peace out loyalist and newcomers...

Unemployment into the Twilight zone...

Welcome to Unemployment!  I will be your tour guide...  Please remember to up your prozac dosage before proceeding.

Warning:  People will treat you like a child again by not letting you handle sharp objects, drink too much NyQuil, ask you how many of those pills you are taking, and so on...

Narrative:
Your world has been flipped upside down.  They stripped you of your security blanket, but everything is cool, because you have a plan.

Plan:
Day 1-  Wake up at 6 AM.  Workout for 45 minutes.  Down a bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and a protein shake.  Get dressed (business casual), show up early to drop kids off at school and network with other working parents.  Go submit 20 resumes to various companies.

Day 2 through 30- Repeat Day 1, Congratulations you've scored another seat in corporate hell.

Listen up!

What really happens:

Day 1- Alarm goes off at 6AM, WTF?  You hit the snooze button 20 times.  Each time you promised to be the last.  Finally wake up at 8AM, hurry, hurry.  Get the kids to school late.  The word has spread of your job loss, because your awesome and you utilized everything from Facebook to LinkedIn to put the word out:  "I need a freaking job, so that I can be normal again".  The remaining parents, still mingling, always mingling, avoiding eye contact at all costs (cursing under your breath).  They realize you clearly don't have your act together.  You go have breakfast.  Start hunting for jobs on your laptop and realize that there's a website for oldschool Nintendo games.  "I've got to check this out, this is the type of stuff that will give me the cutting edge of computer savviness."   10:54AM no prospects, go turn in 2 resumes and return home for a much earned nap.

Day 2- You realize that you jumped the gun.  You decide to take the day to collect your thoughts and ponder life.  You watch TV for several hours.  2PM-sudden urge to be productive.  You start deep cleaning the entire house.  It's time to vacuum.
"Did you hear that," you ask your wife.
"No," she's lying and you know it.
"There it is again."
"I didn't hear anything dear," still lying, always lying.
"It seems like this vacuum has lost its suction power," you're talking to no one now.  No one cares.
Panic enters your wife's face, and she goes to find her "How to Motivate Your Unemployed Spouse" pamphlet from the local non-profit.
You tear apart 3 different junk drawers until you find your stop watch, and run to the garage with watch and vacuum in hands.  Start timer... disassemble vacuum.  8mins 37secs, your desk job made you sloppy.  You are dumbfounded by the size of the tiny motor.  "Now that just won't do.  No wonder this vacuum sucks."  You tweet your new joke, then hit up Google.  2 hours later you've narrowed down a propane powered, indoor safe weed-whacker engine.  There will need to be a slight modification to the vacuum in order to fit this new engine.  No problem...

You go to the checkout page.  You don't have an account at this site.  The thought of finding your credit card and entering 16 digits, is mortifying.  You're exhausted.  Take a nap on the couch, you earned it.

Day 3- 7:30AM, still on the couch.  Kids are poking you with Barbie legs and snapping your eyelids.
Child #2- "You look sick Daddy, is that why you aren't at work?"
Child #1- "You're face is real hairy, is that why you slept on the couch?"

The cycle of none sense repeats.  Always repeating...

Day 10- You've submitted 6 resumes total.  2PM you return from a walk.
(Unknown ambush waiting for you.  Always unknown).
Enter House and feel creepy aura.
Enter extended family and in-laws, chameleon style.  They take center stage.  Why do they all have folding chairs?  You must be dreaming.

You're trapped- Guerilla Intervention.  This is not a dream soldier, nor is it a drill.  Sloppy again.  Always sloppy.

They tell you how worried they are.  Oh how your dreams of running your own business, becoming a writer, and finally beating Super Mario Brothers 3 have the appearance of zero productivity ! Worried faces everywhere.  Fake and phony everywhere.  Everywhere phake and fony.  Dizzy now.

Always dizzy.

You piece it together.  The kids have been sharing stories with you all week, about famous business men and celebrities who worked at McDonalds and Burger King when times are tough.  Always asking your opinion.  Asking always.  Don't blame the kids though, at this age their loyalty is compromised with out them even knowing it.

Phake and Fony.
Your wife hands you a gift.  Open gift.  Open.  It's a portfolio bound in phake leather (times are tough).  Open portfolio.  Open.  Inside you find a stack of job applications for fast food and retail chains.  Feeling dizzier.  Always dizzy.  Dizzy...

Enter idea...  Enter bad idea... Enter last resort, bad idea...  Always with the entering.  Always...

Self-preservation now:
Fight or Flight?  Right you are...
Without saying a thing you walk out the door.  Exit.  Enter car.  You drive to the local grocery store.  It's real busy, Perfect!  Enter store, yelling expletives.  Always yelling.  You knock over the promotional items.  You hate low prices, you hate hight prices.  "Where are the medium, not some premium, not so crappy prices?"  You carry on a heated debate with Peanut Butter.  Economy size makes you frown.  You had an idea for sandwiches once, what was it? Where's the Lucky Charms?  You start shouting some more "I'm a leprechaun, I'm a leprechaun!" "Where are me Lucky Charms!"  Tony the Tiger is laughing at you "Tricks are for kids," says Tony.  Your mad at all cereal, it has nothing to do with race.  You claim that your grandfather built the store with his bare hands.  His store, his hands.  Your store now.  His legend.

Enter Police

Enter Straight Jacket

Enter Padded Room

Enter Sedatives

Enter devious smile.  Evil laughing in your head.  Always evil...

You showed them all!
Nobody puts baby in the corner... Patrick Swayze visits you.  You rehearse scenes from Roadhouse.  You play chess.  Jason Bourne vs. Patrick Swayze.  Bourne 50; Swayze 3.

Cinnamon Bears and Diet Pepsi at your side.
Life is great...

Life is Always Great...

Trails of dreams...

I've spent over an hour trying to add facebook commenting to this blog.  I followed directions from other blogs.  I read blog.  I input code.  I read blog.  I cursed several times while trying to input code.  I read blog.  I bang head against wall.  In the end there is a code written, so somewhere on my blog there is an imaginary comment box that you can use with your facebook account.  (Still cursing in my head)

What does the internet offer?  A series of illogical explanations describing the patterns of life that are said to bring us to the tip of Maslow's pyramid, where we will experience nothing but euphoria.  Unfortunately, if you've every climbed a pyramid (I haven't by the way, but I could imagine it)  you would arrive at the top drenched in sweat and grateful that the journey's over.  There is no end to the world wide web of half-truths.  Thus, we walk around like zombie's every day trying to consume our way to the top.  Maybe we're only circling pyramids, because we've lost all sense of gravity. I'm getting dizzy just thinking about it.  The words are actually unraveling in my head at this point and spilling onto the screen.  If I could find a reason to sleep I would, but there is a force (not gravity) sucking me into this flat screen in front of me.  

If you're confused at this point you can imagine what I fill like after staring at pages of codes.  It's like looking at a foreign language for the first time y no entiendes nada, las palabras se escriten de manera clara, pero mis ojos no las reconocen.  Let me just give you a moral and we can wrap it up for the night:

All you need to know-  Abraham Maslow had a crappy childhood with psycho parents, that would make all these tight jean wearing emo kids, grateful for their mostly normal parents.  Although when you see a kid so desperate to stand out that he buys jeans out of the little girls' section, it makes you wonder...I'm getting of track again.

So I'm going to pace myself and if I can't figure it out, I'll try later (I'm talking about the comment box again).  I'd rather be content than have the pissed off dialogue, that speaks 3 dialects with 8 different accents, in my head.

Food for thought, eat it up...