New idea based on my inability to publish blogs because of my hypersensitive douchy ex-relatives.

So I had this idea a few months back about just starting a Q&A blog instead of writing blogs about the shit that is pissing me off. According to some, since I'm pissed off at completely random things, this inherently means, I'm "talking shit online and being a fag". Ok, I totally get that. Except that came in an email to me which had to be written online and... Oh fuck it.

So anyway, I've been absent for a while on here because my mother tells me to write shit and just not post it. Which I have, but anyone who knows me understands that I can't just keep shit to myself, I must blab it out passive aggressively with carefully constructed innuendos and euphemisms indicating how much of a douche canoe some people (and you know who you are!) can be at times. Well, maybe all the time. Yeah, some people are just total jack-holes and I believe that it is my big-bang given duty to tell them.

Oh, on a lighter note, doesn't Jonah Hill totally look like a goat scrotum?


I'd like the question and answer thing to work, really I would. Mostly because I want to keep writing blogs, and because I think human interaction is much more interesting to read. So by all means, if anyone has a question they would like answered, and it could be about anything, please email me.

jvmuss@hotmail.com

Google Fail

Periodically, Google takes part in a collection of art from children of all ages and grades, and sticks them together for us to vote on which one should be the next homepage graphic. This is nice in a
winner/loser kind of way and I'd like to share with you my take on some of these drawings done by children.
I must warn you, if you haven't read my blog or spent a great deal of time with me, you may not realize that I'm a little bit of a dickhead. The drawing and, well, drawling can be cute at times if you have that "bless their little heart" mentality, which thanks to several genetic abnormalities/advantages/or-what-have-you, I was born without.

Anyway, on with it...

The theme here is "If I could do anything, I would..." Then the child starts rambling about what he or she would do if they could do anything, which is totally ridiculous, because lets face it, children can't do anything. Nobody can do anything.

Here's a submission from little Vicky, age 6 from Oregon.

Vicky writes: "No Pollution! The coral reef is dying! Small fish live in the coral reef. If the coral reef dies, the small fish will have nothing to eat. If the small fish dies, the big fish will have nothing to eat. Then the bigger fish will have nothing to eat. SAVE THE CORAL"

Joels verdict: Solid C-. Vicky, You're correct. The coral reef is dying, and your little circle of life analogy is very poetic, But there is more than one coral reef and the rest of us that do not live in bleeding heart Oregon, would still like to purchase dried coral and other reef inhabitants to decorate our bathrooms. Nothing says cozy #2 like a baked starfish and coral soap dish. I also can't help but notice the spot of copyright infringement we have with little Nemo.

We then have Craig, age 7 from Vegas:

"If I could do anything, I would..." give everyone in the world a super fast computer and Internet. People could become friends. They could help each other. They could find the answers to problems together. They could have fun together. People will not go to war because they are friends.

Joel: This simply will not work. People are not friends, Craig. People only stand each other at different levels. These levels change based on how much money the other has, or depending on how many fingers you can get in the others girlfriend. You should also know that if everyone had super-fast computers, no-one would. This is philosophy at the basic level Craig. There will always be the need to one-up the other guy, which in fact, leads to war. You're heart is in the right place, and you do live in Vegas where prostitution is legal so I'll go with a C+.

Next, Isabella, age 9 from Tennessee.

She writes:

I Am The Best Teacher

If I was a teacher I would teach the whole world. I want to show math, science, reading, handwriting and a lot more. I want everyone to say I am the best teacher. I won't be strict. I will be nice and I won't make them do so much homework.

Joel: First, let's talk about sentence structure, Isabella. "If I could do anything, I would... I Am The Best Teacher"? No. Just NO. Now lets move on to physics. First, your crayons are not only suspended in a sort of cosmic state, one of them is broken. Next, light particles (photons) do not bend in this way unless that clock happens to be a super-massive black hole, disguised as a clock. Your apple has a reflection that is hanging off of your desk which, I should add is completely impractical, and you should know that somewhere in Oregon, there is a 6 year old that just owned your artistic ability. If you want to be the "Best Teacher", you have your work cut out for you. F.

Olivia, 11 from Fort Wayne, Indiana:

"If I could do anything, I would..." ... splatter the whole world in bright colors.

Joel: What? F.





Cynthia, 11 from Jersey:

"If I could do anything, I would..." create a bridge of harmony between mankind and nature. Better life relies on the co-existence between man and wildlife, so I would make an ideal world for them by filling the world with hope for a better tomorrow.

Joel: I can't decide what you've been doing more, smoking weed, or listening to We Are The World remixes. Maybe both.
F. Drugs are bad, mm-kay? You're 11. Slow down, Drew Barrymore.

Bryan, age 11, Washington:

"Because of the recent earthquake tragedies in Haiti and Chile. I think it is important to build a city that earthquakes cannot damage or destroy. The high rise buildings should be strong enough to withstand any earthquakes, so that people can be safe and will not be threatened. "

Joel: Which ultimately leads to overpopulation, pollution, famine, poor education, a downfall in global economics, civil disobedience, plague, and the increased chance that someone will fly planes into your "safe" high-rise buildings. This is just poorly thought out, not to mention incomplete. Your buildings have some kind of white void in the middle of them. F. Learn to finish things you start. It'll give you a sense of closure which is very important in life.

Rafael, 17 from Jersey:

"If I could do anything, I would..." find a way to improve education for underprivileged students in cities, towns and neighborhoods that are suffering from poverty. Consequently, that generation of young men and women could become the leaders and role models for the next generation.

Joel: Good art Rafael, too bad you don't know shit about sociology. You find thousands of tenured faculty willing to get paid peanuts and dodge bullets to weed out 1 or 2 role models from a sea of asshole teenagers who's drug laden parents have passed down a legacy of crime and addiction to them and their half-dozen miscreant siblings. Stick to drawing. B (for the art) F for the commentary. And what's simple addition and complex theory doing on the same blackboard? You have to crawl before you can walk. Perhaps you should get together with little Isabella and talk a bit about Einstein's Theory of Relativity.

Elizabeth, 18, from Connecticut.

"I would travel on a robot around the world. Everyone desires to see this vast world, but only a handful of people can fulfill their aspiration with today's limited technology. In the future maybe everyone can have their own transportation to travel the world. With technology, the possibilities are endless"

Joel: Yes, you read that right. This girl is 18. She's 18 and she desires to travel on a ROBOT around the world. ... F out of principle.

Alex, 17, from West Virginia:

"If I could do anything, I would..." go to Japan. I would love to go to Japan because I want to see and explore its architecture, like Tokyo Tower. I also want to master the style of art, both traditional and digital. I also would love to eat the food.

Joel: Fuckin' A, Alex. A totally rational aspiration. This is a 17 year old kid who wants to be doing EXACTLY what 17 year old boys should be doing. Flying to Japan (or any other country of choice), eating their food (women), and exploring their architecture (women). A+. I know whats in your heart, buddy. Good for you.

Muscle Aches, Sniffels and the Guilt Queen

So it's summer again and I... am not happy about that.

Summer is the time of year where being an Italian/Armenian living in California is somewhat like being trapped in an old Volkswagen in the Utah Salt Flats with the windows rolled up, no car keys and zipped up in a Chewbacca costume. It's hot, sticky, there seems to be a constant shortage of oxygen, and it smells bad. Usually by the end of the day, certain areas of clothing have turned into just a wad of uncomfortable damp material, some being heavier than others and all rubbing and pulling out hair from different parts of the body. The only semi-positive thing about the summer time is when the back of my shirt has retained so much sweat, it forces my center of gravity backwards, straightening out my posture to prepare me for the hunched over misery and despair of the inevitable holiday season.
It's also that time of year that allergies are the most rampant. Apparently this time of year, little things fall off of trees, catch some invisible slipstream of wind and travel directly into my nasal passage, resulting in itchy, watery, sinus pressure accompanied by nosebleeds, spontaneous and uncontrollable sneezing fits, sore throats and headaches. Very few medicines work since I seem to have the ability to immunize myself to them very quickly. So basically, to sum it up, the next three to four months of life, I will transform into a frustrated, hot, uncomfortable, sneezing, sweating, itchy, stinky, crusty, mucousy, bloody pile of hairy shit.

Oh yeah... I'm bringing sexy back.

As if things couldn't get any worse, the next few weeks will be spent outdoors, and several times driving the US Cold Storage work truck. The US Cold work truck is one of three trucks my company uses to transport small materials around, pick up tools and materials from the nearby hardware store and is general purpose for deliveries for things like paperwork, dry ice, hookers, etc. There are three work trucks, all from different era's of the evolution of the truck. There is a nice shiny, silver Nissan Frontier, brought in last year sometime, a bright blue 90's model Ford F-150 that's in good condition, and then the one I get to drive. It looks a little like this:
Don't get me wrong, it's a good truck. Has very low mileage for it's age. It does have a short list of discrepancies which aren't to much of a big deal. There is no turn signal so arm gestures are required, there's no radio, it's interior has kind of a brown leather "Boogie Nights" feel to it, no A/C, it's literally covered in rust, but for the most part, it gets the job done. The problem with driving this in the summer coupled with my Chris Farley-ish sweat capability is removing myself from the brown leather. It's a little like peeling a fruit roll-up out of it's plastic wrap.

My house is finally my house. That's good news. There is a ton of work that needs to be done. Painting and cleaning mostly. The house is in rather good condition aside from some spots that need to be scrubbed down and cleaned off and the poor state of the backyard. It'll take some time, but it will be a healthy break from sitting on my ass in a rental.
My brother helped me move all my stuff over, and I can't thank him enough for that, especially since my house was teeming with useless the entire weekend. We got ALL my large furniture packed and unpacked in one day and I'm still feeling the side effects. Immediately after unpacking my stuff, we then went off to Vince's for a high-velocity band practice. I'm still pretty achy.
Another note, last weekend we went up to Daniel's (My brother-in-law) birthday party where Laura announced her pregnancy. I'm gonna be an uncle. It's going to be an exciting year with everything going on. I'm sure Daniel and Laura will make great parents. I don't know too many people as responsible and caring as those two.
We also stopped by my mom's house for "Armenian Violin" day. We had excellent food, excellent company, shitty coffee, and Landon provided the entertainment for the evening. It was a tight squeeze to fit everything in on such a short weekend but Mom was persuasive. So persuasive in fact that she paid off a few utility bills without my knowledge, ultimately resulting in a well-maneuvered guilt trip. I tell you, she's good at what she does. We then show up and she's sweating over a stove and running all over the house trying to provide a giant meal for everyone. She's definitely the chip-leader in the game of guilt.
So we ate...well, I ate. By the end of the night, when I was on my 6th or 7th pound of pilaf, I looked around and realized, I was the only one left at the table. Mom then brought out what seemed to be some sort of an Ewok beverage. She called it Turkish coffee, I called it sweetened coal tar. It wasn't going down too well so I poured it on my scalp, and I don't think I'll be getting dandruff ever again.
I'm looking forward to the next meal like that, hoping she'll cook some Sarma. It is my favorite. I live so far away, I hardly ever get to eat the things I got too when I was young. Sarma was always the best. Maybe my Mom will come and visit me in the new house I just worked so hard for and cook me Sarma and pilaf. After all, I am her first-born son, it was always my favorite, and she hardly ever comes here to see me and her baby grandson.

Yes, the genetic traits are strong in this family.

It's really a small price to pay for this double chin and all this fucking hair.

"I'm just a #3 kinda guy"

So I had a pretty stressful morning. I hadn't heard anything on the process of this home buying nightmare I've subjected myself too. My mother, who evidently suffers from a self-defeating personality disorder, told me that this is a fun and rewarding experience. I think I might buy her a metal cilice for Christmas this year.
Not that it has anything to do with the nature of this blog, but currently, I am waiting to hear from the underwriter on loan approval. The process thus far has been about as "fun and rewarding" as removing my wisdom teeth with a train locomotive. Apparently, I had missed a payment on one of my credit cards sometime around the turn of the millennium and the VA is questioning it. So this may hold the process up yet another geologic eon.
Anyway, to aid in the management of this stress, I decided to go to lunch with a coworker to a burger joint calls Wimpy's Burgers. It's a pretty dismal looking place to say the least, but the burgers are fabulous. I think every town has a place like this. The walls are made out of galvanized aluminum siding with a 1/4 inch thick coat of off white primer painted on. There are single paned windows all around to compliment the pictures of 50's diner paintings on the walls with the token shot of a old Cadillac. The owner is Indian or Middle eastern but super friendly and clearly really bad at accounting, since the burgers are far better than any other fast food chain. He looks to be about 55-65 years of age but is probably more like 80 since he doesn't eat his own burgers. It has a total of 4 parking spots in front, the temperature inside is maintained by an evaporative cooler built before water was invented, and it is usually attached to a gas station/bodega.

Nice place.

Anyway, I walk through the front door which is clearly marked by the over-sized sleigh bell banging against the glass pane. The owner, who is also the cashier is a very friendly man, who you can't help but to be friendly too, regardless of the shitty mood you are in. There is one person in line in front of me and I anxiously look at the menu, sizing up the different options, to accurately satisfy the correct burger to cost ratio I am calculating in my head.
The person in front completes their order and I move up, ready to place my request for the oily goodness I am about to carpet bomb my digestive system with. He takes one look at me and says:

"#3! How would you like your burger cooked?"

....

"Wait... what?"

"You do want number 3, my friend?"

"How the fuck did you know that?"

"You just look like a #3 kinda guy, my friend!"

... Let me explain what the "#3" is. First, there is the burger. The burger consists of a medium sized sesame seed bun, two beef patties, two slices of cheese, two slices of tomato, pickles, onions, lettuce and the normal ration of ketchup, mustard, and mayo. It is not a small sandwich. You also get a bag of seasoned fries which are approximately 30% larger than those you would receive at say, Mount Olympus. The drink is a 32 oz cup with "the good ice". We all know what "the good ice" is. So by this point we are probably up into the 900-1100 calorie range, dwarfing that of the Taco Bell drive thru. But hey, it's Friday, and this day sucks. Why not brighten it up with a stroke?

So I'm standing there trying to figure out how this ambassador of angus knew exactly what I wanted and just started blurting out random messages such as: "extra pickles" and "Pepsi". How did he know I wanted the coronary special? What gave it away, I wasn't looking at that particular number so it's not like he could have followed my visual reference. I wasn't acting out my choices on my fingers like an idiot who needs secondary processing devices to formulate a clear thought. I hadn't said anything to anyone. Was it my demeanor? Did I project #3 in my aura? Maybe it was my sizable breasts and beer gut. Did my second chin give it away?

A few seconds after this guy deployed the shock and awe sales tactic, I paid for my meal and returned to work. Fantastic burger to say the least and the fries met my expectations (something similar to drinking a glass of season-all flavored hydrogenated oil). At the moment, I'm still crunching on the crushed ice like a sexually frustrated junior high school kid.

What can I say? I guess I'm just a #3 kinda guy.

Wiki-win

Diagnostic criteria (ICD-10) - dissocial personality disorder‎

The World Health Organization's ICD-10 defines a conceptually similar disorder to antisocial personality disorder called (F60.2) Dissocial personality disorder.^[9]

It is characterized by at least 3 of the following:

1. Callous unconcern for the feelings of others and lack of the capacity for empathy.
2. Gross and persistent attitude of irresponsibility and disregard for social norms, rules, and obligations.
3. Incapacity to maintain enduring relationships.
4. Very low tolerance to frustration and a low threshold for discharge of aggression, including violence.
5. Incapacity to experience guilt and to profit from experience, particularly punishment.
6. Markedly prone to blame others or to offer plausible rationalizations for the behavior bringing the subject into conflict.
7. Persistent irritability.

The criteria specifically rule out conduct disorders.^[10] Dissocial personality disorder criteria differ from those for antisocial and sociopathic personality disorders.^[11]

It is a requirement of ICD-10 that a diagnosis of any specific personality disorder also satisfies a set of general personality disorder criteria.

I need to make my blog pretty

Every blog I see looks awesome. I need to make my blog look awesome. Even though blog is probably the most un-awesome word ever.
Except maybe Rufus.
Or Smelt.
Or Celine Dion.

Things That May Or May Not Happen This Year

I loathe saying the word resolution. For the most part, it is because they never happen, or that when I say "This year, my resolution is to not be such a dick!" not only do I sound like a chump, it's only a matter of hours before I break this promise to myself, and nothing is more painful than breaking promises to yourself...Except maybe Lupus...Or being slowly digested by a giant venus fly trap. Anyway, despite my refusal to make promises to myself, I did in fact think up some stuff I would like to see happen this year. I know your just teeming with excitement to know so I'll be all adult and shit and share them with you (Whoever you are).

First, my birthday is on the 12th of this month and seeing as how fast time has been moving by since Landon was born, It will be the 12th by the time I get home this evening. So because of this blatant disrespect shown by the space-time continuum, I've decided not to get any older this year. Last year, when people would ask me how old I am, I would jauntily reply "I'm 27! Thank you for asking! God bless us, everyone!" This year, since I am in fact, not aging, I'll say "I'm 27, or something like that, I don't really remember." Of course, seeing as how I only get confronted and asked these nauseating questions by complete imbecilic and exasperating douche-reservoirs, they'll probably ask me "Well, what year were you born?" My favorite response to this question is always an agreeing nod and half smile followed by a glazed stare. This usually ends a conversation.

I may or may not buy a house this year. I was looking last year for a while but I didn't have much luck. Every time I looked at one, something always happened.
I liked it, but Cindy didn't.
I hated, but Cindy liked it, so we naturally put an offer in, and it was declined.
We both liked it but it was declined.
We both liked it and it was accepted but it was a short sale so we died of old age.
I realized it was still in this shit-hole town/state/country and lost motivation.

So I may or may not try again. I don't know yet.

I may or may not take vacation this year. I took a sick day yesterday because I was genuinely sick and all friggin hell broke loose in and around my cubicle. Here's a picture of what my office looks like when I leave for the day:



And this is what I think it looks like when I'm gone:



As you can see, time off isn't something that goes well for me. Several family members have already started planning my vacation for me this year. My brother wants to go camping for a week at Ice House which would be awesome, but unrealistic. My mom wants to go wine tasting which would be cool but would have to be on a weekend due to school and work constraints. My dad wants me to fly to Kentucky which would be cool except for the flying/money/length of time problem. My wife wants to go to Monterey this year which would be a blast but will cost an arm and a leg. I have my annual Man-Weekend at Huntington Lake which has yet to be planned. That can also get pricey with the alcohol, poker money, fishing equipment and snack food. I'm gonna try my best everyone. Seriously.

I may buy a new car this year. This is highly dependent on my decision about the house. For years I have been stuck on the little two door, putzy rice rockets that have no space for anything and habitually end up as useless heaps of scrap metal in my driveway.

I'd like to play a few live gigs this year. Doesn't have to be a regular thing, I would just like to play on stage a few times.

I may or may not finally score with Kate Hudson this year. Probably not, but I'll just put that out there just in case.

I'm having very strong feelings about school and whether or not to continue. I'm extremely overwhelmed with all the work I have to do and I don't know if going on will be the best thing for my stress level. Not to mention the lack of time I get to spend with my family because I'm always in front of a computer. The other issue is, the longer I go, the more money is going to build up in my student loans and the way the economy is right now, finding a job that can pay for all that debt when I finish might be too far out of reach. I would love to get finish this degree program but I already have 1 degree that isnt making me any money, I really dont need 2.

Ok. I'm done typing now.