Monday, October 3, 2016

Hide The Crazy

                It’s time for me to make a(nother?) post about relationships and some of the inherent struggles within.  I’m sure some of you out there are saying, “Ryan, you are arguably the least qualified person in the world to make any statements on relationships because you have historically been an absolute failure at them and an awful, lonely sad sack.”  To that, I say, “This is my blog and I will do what I want, but words can hurt too and there was no need for the name-calling.”

                Anyways, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my storied history of hilariously failed relationships, it’s that inevitably, one or both parties involved in the relationship are certifiably insane.  But, just because we’re all a little bit (or a lotta bit) crazy doesn’t mean that we’re all stupid; so naturally we would want to hide that crazy until we’re sure that the other person can really handle our particular level and brand of crazy.  Really, that’s the goal for all of us, to find someone whose crazy we can tolerate.

                For people like me, that probably isn’t ever going to happen because I live in a bubble of delusion where I am, in my mind, not insane at all and because of this I tend to have an immediate disagreement with most people I meet who can see the bubbling font of manic insanity that I really am.  So, what’s a guy to do?  Either dream big and fail hard, or compromise.  Upon accepting the realistic limitations in finding a sane person to share one’s life with, we then turn to simply bargaining with ourselves about exactly how much insane bullshit we can reasonably tolerate based on how attracted we are to the person.  In this vein, I believe that I have made the definitive chart explaining how each of us rules out potential mates.

                As you can see from this handy graph, the more attractive I find a woman to be, the more crazy behavior I can tolerate.  I can put up with a significant amount of insanity provided there is sufficient attractiveness.  I’m sure that me making this point is going to find some readers quite incensed with me, but I think it’s fair to mention that literally every single human being is shallow to some degree because I don’t think there is a single person out there saying, “I really want to date an unattractive, boring, unfunny, jackass” so I think it’s time for us to just be honest with ourselves about it.  We all try to look good so that we can find a mate that also looks good.  The whole idea of there being “leagues” or 1-10 ratings for potential objects of affect isn’t just some made up nonsense that comedians use as a talking point or a reason to put Jay Baruchel in movies; it’s a real thing that we, as naturally shallow creatures, came up with and secretly think about even when we say that we’re totally deep and can see past looks.

Don’t even try to pretend you’ve described your dream guy as this.   That hairstyle is awful.

And while I’m being honest, let me go ahead and update that graph just a bit.

Of course, my girlfriend is also located at the yellow star because I am a lucky, lucky man (or possibly because she’s imaginary)

                Looking at this graph, you’ll notice that I’ve specifically made mention of the self-preservation point (it was in the previous graph, but in this one I put words next to it).  Even though, for the most part, the amount of craziness I put up with increases with attractiveness, at a certain point my survival instincts kick in and I absolutely cannot fucking deal with any more of this bullshit because I am legitimately scared that you will tie me to my bed, steal my dog (which may also be imaginary) and burn down my house (which is definitely imaginary).  This keeps me safe from sexy murderers (the orange star) who, despite being attractive, are quite dangerous to my health.  You can also see that my girlfriend is good looking enough that I would be willing to put up with a whole lot of craziness that she, thankfully, spares me from (because she’s either really awesome or a product of my imagination…you decide!).  You just have to find your personal self-preservation point on the Hot-Crazy scale to decide exactly how much you’re willing to put up with for an attractive partner (there are some sexy murderers out there that need dates, if you’re comfortable with that).

                Truthfully, you’ve probably seen images similar to this floating around the internet before, or heard other people mention something akin to this.  But, I don’t think they dig quite deep enough  See, if everyone just handed you a card that said “Hi, I’m tattoo-your-name-on-my-forehead-and-save-your-semen-in-a-jar crazy” upon meeting them, life would be a lot simpler and you’d probably see fewer break-ups on your Facebook timeline because people would run screaming from first dates before getting too involved.  That would also be the end of the graph as we would’ve put a tidy bow on the whole issue.  Unfortunately, as I hinted at in the beginning of the article, that’s not how the world works because, as soon as you meet someone you are actively involved in a game I like to call “Hide the Crazy.”  Hide the Crazy is exactly what it sounds like: you meet someone and you both silently agree to do your very best at acting like you’ve got your shit together and that you’re totally cool that he watched the latest episode of Game of Thrones without you because you don’t trip over small things like that and he’s acting like he really wants to hear about how your cat is just like a little person so please do go on in detail about how intuitive it is. 

                Unlike most games, you don’t lose at Hide the Crazy by letting your own guard down and informing the other party that you are, in fact, batshit insane.  No, it’s quite the opposite.  You lose at Hide the Crazy when the OTHER person let’s on to the fact that they are out of their mind and suddenly you’re sleeping on the couch and your clothes are outside in the bushes but you’re already too invested in the person to just up and leave because they were too good at the game and you don’t want all that time you spent cultivating a relationship to be for nothing just because she shaved off your eyebrows while you were sleeping because you said you actually aren’t that big a fan of that one sweater she likes to wear all the time.  See, you never lose at Hide the Crazy early on when there’s an easy out; it only happens after you’ve spent enough time in a relationship with the person where you have to seriously weigh out whether the amount of crazy that they’ve unloaded on you is worth throwing away the amount of time you’ve invested in them; because none of us like to feel like we’ve wasted time but we also don’t want to have the person we’re sharing a bed with to make a scarf out of our hair (unless you’re both into hair-scarves, in which case I think you’ve found The One).  Hide the Crazy takes even longer to find a winner than Monopoly and the emotional outbursts that result when someone loses the game are equally devastating.
Interestingly, this is what it looks like when you lose either game.

                There are two types of people (still) reading this article at this point: those that are saying, “Ryan has no idea what he’s talking about, my relationship is great and my significant other is not crazy at all,” and those who are thinking that this whole thing is making a lot of sense right now and have already packed an emergency bag and called a friend to set up a safe house situation with them for when shit goes down.  And maybe some of you are right and you totally have a beautiful Romeo and Juliet romance (where you’re both so crazy that both the two of you and a rival suitor all end up dead in a family crypt, but happily, put an end to your two families’ feuding).  Otherwise, I’d suggest just being extra careful and maybe take out some life insurance so your family doesn’t get stuck with your school loans.  At least until we can get people to start passing out these cards to potential love interests:

Order yours today!


Saturday, October 1, 2016

September 2016 Joke Round-Up

                It’s that time again where I compile all the jokes I wrote last month.  A little skimpy on the joke-writing this month and that’s likely because I’m just not quite as miserable as usual (we all know, misery makes the best jokes).  That last sentence was a joke, please don’t be concerned for me (or, I guess since I’m supposedly less miserable, please don’t be less concerned for me?).   As you can see, I even got a little political with my joke-writing (some of those were kept on my personal page instead of my LPT page) because current events are great sources of inspiration (and stupid people are everywhere)! Enjoy!

When someone you're friends with thinks they're being discreetly salty by showing up on your Facebook timeline specifically to "like" any negative arguments made towards you.

I always thought, as someone who writes a lot of self-deprecating jokes, that I had a pretty decent understanding of self-esteem issues until the other day when I met a girl who introduced herself as, "I'm Andrea but everyone calls me Assmilk," and I realized that I'm a complete amateur.

It's sickening to me that politicians only want to talk about terrorists killing Americans when the real threat is clearly hiding in our own bedrooms underneath a duvet cover and decorative pillows.
Also, I'm thinking that armed toddlers should be considered terrorists. #StayWoke

I've heard the phrase "The floor is so clean you can eat off it" but I really think that depends on what kind of food and what kind of flooring you're talking about.

Pee in the pool while swimming around and nobody notices. Stand on the side of the pool and pee into it and suddenly everyone is a critic.

I've always considered myself to be pretty computer savvy. This morning I managed to accidentally create an Instagram account. I have no desire to have an Instagram account. I have 8 followers that are gonna be following me doing jack shit with that account, though.

Just when I thought the Internet couldn't get any dumber, I had a guy randomly arguing with me that the formula to find force isn't Force = Mass x Acceleration; as though Newton's 2nd Law isn't both well established and easily searchable.
At a certain point, I have to believe that I'm the problem. Stupid people are just drawn to me like moths to a porch light.

When your dad makes you go to the baseball game and wear ridiculous matching hats, but all you really wanna do is read Harry Potter. #ParentsJustDontUnderstand

I got elbowed in the face tonight at hockey. My teammates told me to put a steak on it after the game. Overall, pretty useless advice; the steak smells great but doesn't really feel like its helping and everyone else at Longhorn keeps staring. The baked potato was delicious, though.

As scientific advances continue to be made in the realms of robotics and artificial intelligence, I think it's important to remember that, in the future, the easiest way to tell the difference between a human and an android will be whether or not they use the word "ducking."

Look, I'm not saying that he is, but it's something that a lot of people are talking about. And, it's a huge issue that the American people want answers to. An 'extremely credible source' has called me and told me that the documents don't exist because he is, in fact, a festering pile of shit. If he's not, then I think he owes it to us, to the American people, to provide the documentation, because until he does, these questions will remain. It makes you wonder, what is he hiding that he just doesn't show us the certificate?

The last time I went to the zoo I remember going to the hippopotamus enclosure and, being crowded in the viewing area, I had a hard time seeing over and around people trying to get a glimpse of the hippo. I spent several minutes peeking around uttering “Where’s the hippo? I can’t see it” to my friends along the way. Finally, I was able to spot a hippo swimming around, which caused me to loudly proclaim, “I see it! I found the hippo!” No sooner than I had said this, a very large woman in front of me turned around and said, “Fuck you, asshole.”
I literally had no idea why this lady was randomly so angry at me until I was walking to the next exhibit and realized that she thought I was calling her a hippo. This lady was at the hippo exhibit at the zoo and assumed that a complete stranger saying that they spotted a hippo was a reference to her weight rather than the hippo exhibit she was currently standing in front of. Pretty sure I was not the asshole in this situation but I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the day at the zoo because I didn’t want to accidentally have a hairy man think I was calling him a bear at another exhibit or anything else equally awkward.

I ordered a pizza from Dominos earlier to be delivered to this bar and just had a very confused delivery driver call me because I accidentally gave Dominos their own address for delivery.

I firmly believe that the light bulb was invented so people could stay up all night partying. Because, let's be serious, if you're getting drunk by candlelight somebody's house is about to get burned down.

I really like the group Earth, Wind and Fire, but I can't help thinking that the band would have been better if they had Water and Heart, too.

It can be pretty difficult to find foods that are fast, cheap and healthy. Currently looking into the nutritional value of dirt.

The power has been out at work for nearly 2 hours now. I'm dangerously close to lighting my trash can on fire, tearing the sleeves off my shirt and fashioning a weapon out of office supplies.

Apparently, Facebook messenger thought it would be a good idea to randomly send a voice message to someone in my contact list while my phone was in my pocket at work today. So, an ex-girlfriend got a minute long recording of me discussing mattress warranties. Maybe she will find it to be useful information.

I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I found a whole strawberry in the jelly. I assume this is their answer to chunky peanut butter.

I like to think that I'm a pretty patient person. But the fact that I spend a considerable portion of my life with a burnt tongue because I couldn't wait for my food to cool tells me otherwise.

For the presidential debate tonight I was going to drink every time Trump is an ignorant, unqualified, xenophobic, fear mongering, hate endorsing, tiny-handed, orange-skinned, bankruptcy-declaring, white supremacist-supporting, lying, cheating, defrauding, treasonous, daughter creeping, question dodging, hot air blowing, constitution destroying, double talking, violence encouraging, country embarassing, disgusting, morally reprehensible, bullshit spewing piece of garbage.
It's been nice knowing you all; this is where my liver checks out.

Somebody asked me if I was gay because I said I had roommates. "No. Having roommates means that I'm poor and I have friends that are poor too."

There are a lot of Trump supporters today claiming that the reasons Trump looked bad in the debate last night range anywhere from Hillary supposedly wearing an ear-piece, to her getting advance notice of the questions, to the (registered Republican) moderator being liberally biased.
Obviously, these people have not heard of Occam's razor. "Among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected." Or, more simply, "when you hear hoofbeats behind you, think horses, not zebras."
The simplest explanation for your candidate looking like an unprepared, unqualified idiot is that he is an unprepared, unqualified idiot.

I was explaining the Dunning-Kruger effect to a friend the other day:
Me: "Basically, it's when stupid people are so stupid that they are too stupid to understand how stupid they are.
Him: "Wow, that Dunning-Kruger guy must have been a huge dumbass for them to name it after him."

I think the most disappointing thing about people designing labyrinths in their cornfields is that I never hear them refer to it as a Maize Maze.

I see a lot of people in this election saying things like "Both candidates suck! They're equally awful!" Honestly, I think that's really stupid. That's like being offered a choice between fried chicken or nuclear waste for dinner and saying, "Well, they're both bad for my diet!"
Yeah, the fried chicken is little dry, it's not your favorite food, it isn't going to help you shed the pounds and get your summer beach body ready, but it's a familiar meal that you've had before and you know it won't do any significant harm to your health that you haven't already done with years of Spaghetti-Os and pizza. The nuclear waste, on the other hand, isn't even real food, nobody is quite sure why the restaurant has it on the menu, it's an unnatural color and it will ruin your fucking life. One is obviously significantly worse than the other.

There's a current trend on Facebook where people make their status "Anyone who knows me knows that I love _______" and then wait to see what all their friends say.
I refuse to do this because I already know that I'm friends with a bunch of terrible people who will all just comment "dicks" repeatedly.

                I actually finished writing an article the other day (surprise!), just need to proof it and post it, so keep an eye out and it should be up soon.