The world according to Alan

I think a really funny skit would be one that opens with this really nice looking guy named Alex. He’s cheerfully buying a Christmas present that’s probably expensive and it looks like the gift says, “I really care about you because we’ve been dating for a long time and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Then the skit cuts to Alex and it’s Christmas and he looks really happy. Just as he’s going to tell his girlfriend Susan about her really special gift she tells him that she’s breaking up with him and then she leaves the house. Over the course of a couple of weeks Alex develops a severe drinking problem which gets him fired from his job. He begins to destroy any friendships he ever had, too, because the alcoholism really takes a toll that way. The skit closes with Alex going to jail because he sent a death-threat to his ex-girlfriend who ruined his life.

Call me SNL!

I put my pencil down, checked over my answers and concluded that I did the best I could on my final exam of university.

I walked up to the professor’s desk to hand in what would make or break my higher education career. As I laid the bundle of paper on his desk he looked up and gave me a confused look.

“Excuse me, what are you doing here?” He asked with a stern voice.

“I’m handing in my final exam, sir.” I responded.

“Son, not now nor have you ever been a student of this class.”

According to the person at the admissions desk I had never registered or was even accepted into any sort of university programme. The last four years of my life were a lie and I was out fifty-thousand dollars because of it.

“Where did all that money go?” I wondered.

It’s really hard to surprise someone that has agoraphobia and never leaves their house. You would think that it’s a good idea to chloroform them and then, while they’re asleep, cook them dinner and wash their underwear as a pleasant surprise.

But when she woke up the only thing she said was, “who are you and what are you doing here?” I even had to jump out a second storey window because she started throwing things at me.

Enjoy my home-made soup, you ungrateful bitch.

Last night I dreamed that I was attempting to name all the US presidents (I did pretty well although I named Jason Alexander as the president after Johnson) at a Furry convention.

Don’t know what this says about me but I think I’d rather not find out.

“Hi honey! I’m home!” I bellowed.

“Did you find a job to-day?” She inquired.

“Nope, not to-day but I did find a bunch or railway ties and pegs just laying on the ground!”

“You were gone for eight hours and all you did was bring home some wood and metal? Like that’s going to help us afford food.”

Later on as I was watching a news report about a derailment or something I realised that Susan is very rarely supportive of my hobbies.

“So how does this work?” I asked intently.

“Well, when the song starts I’m going to give you a lap dance and then you pay me.” She answered.

“Yeah but what if I get a boner? Won’t that be awkward for us both?”

She stared at me with an expression of fear and confusion.

“I’m serious. I don’t think I would be able to handle that. And, like, why should I pay you for something I can go to any dorm and get for free? How can you take yourself seriously!?”

“Sir, you’re really not making this easy for me. If you don’t want a lap dance I’ll just go.”

“We could have a barking contest!” I suggested.

“A what?”

“A barking contest! I’ll bark and you try and do a better bark and then I’ll try to do an even better one!”

As I was sitting in the ER, waiting to have my arm looked at, I reflected on the evening. Why did I go in there in the first place? Why did the bouncer have to twist my arm like that? How did I even get to Montreal?

Life sure is mysterious!

“Uncle Alan, what’s prison?” My cute little 8 year old nephew asked with wide eyes.

“Well, it’s my home away from home, you could say.” I said with a chuckle.

He stared at me with a confused look.

“Okay… well, it’s where people go that have done something wrong. Kind of like a ‘time-out’ for grown-ups.” I explained, “but sometimes people go there for a silly reason because ‘society’ thinks that some things are ‘wrong’ when they really shouldn’t be. Things like not wearing pants in public.”

“Oh, so you have to sit in a corner?” He asked.

“It’s worse than sitting in a corner, Jack, it’s sitting in a corner where you get ass raped all the time.”

He stared at me with his mouth dropped open and eyes wide.

“Every day. Every. Damn. Day. You get ass raped. When you wake up? Ass rape. After lunch? Ass rape. After exercising? Ass rape. In the shower? Ass rape. After the shower? Ass rape. Before falling asleep? Ass rape. While asleep? Ass rape… all the time, ass rape. There’s no getting away from it, either. The only thing you can do is pray that he has soft hands or that God kills you before it happens again. That’s not even the worst part, the worst part is that the ass raper can sell you to someone else for a pack of smokes or beef jerky and that guy will ass rape you too. So unless you like the idea of feeling another man’s-“

I guess my sister heard from the kitchen because at that point she started screaming at me and kicked me out of the house. I guess it’s not “fashionable” to tell children the truth in her home.

I would just like to say that to-night’s show at the Horseshoe Tavern was absolutely phenomenal. The Cavaliers! played an awesome set which was followed by a solid performance by Frank Turner. If any Toronto tumblrites missed out on this show I am deeply sad for you.

If you have not had the pleasure of hearing one or both of these acts I suggest looking them up… NOW!

Also, Frank Turner has to be one of the most down-to-Earth musicians I have ever had a conversation with.

Hey!

Any Toronto Tumblrites that are not busy to-night should come on down to the Horseshoe Tavern and see Frank Turner and the Cavaliers play a free show!

I’ll be there!

The Horseshoe Tavern is on the corner of Spadina and Queen and the concert starts at 9!

If you show up I’ll be wearing clothes, so look for me! (Flash t-shirt and brown cords)

Find me before I find you!

So long, Coco, and thanks for all the fish.

You know how they say, “dress for the job you want not the job you’re interviewing for”? Well I dressed up like a viking doctor astronaut and the only thing I got was the cops called on me… again…

I think my biggest mistake was not taking my job serious enough. Or it could have been that I mailed my boss a death threat on personal stationary.

Either way I don’t think security guards were needed to escort me out of the building. What am I, some sort of maniac?