Dear Readers,
As surely all of you know the holiday season is upon us. And while this may mean Xmas trees and stockings and a fat Jesus giving out presents to children of at least a middle-class upbringing to Christians, or dradles and fancy candle holders to our Jewish friends, or Kwanzaa roots and branches to our Black brothers out there, it can only mean one thing to everyone no matter their color, creed, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or age. It means coming home....and staying with your parents.
And it's funny that, in many ways, we dread this return under our parents' roof. After all this is where all of us begin our lives; well after the hospital (assuming your parents either 1-have health insurance or 2-aren't crazy hippies who believe it's safer for children to be born underwater or something). It's where we were raised. Where we were cared for. Where we were given clothes, food, money, lectures, a lack of emotional support, spankings, and a sense disappointment that will make us realize that being a homeless bum living under a bridge really does make you a failure. It's where, unless you are an f'in weirdo, we masturbated. It's home.
That being said, "home" can mean different things to different people. And that's because our parents are different. Some of them are rich. Some are poor. Some of them drunks. Some are squares. Some of them eat meat. Some of them don't shave their legs or are functional members of society. None of them are the same, except for the fact that they all manage to take away our freedom.
Right now we live under their roofs, so we live by their rules. What can you say? Parents, you can't live with them, but during the holidays...you have to. So, have fun masturbating.
The "Living With the Rents" Life Cycle
Welcome to the third installment in the Sack's "Life Cycle" series, which investigates how we grow, mature, get drunk, and lie to the people that we love. In the first installment we looked at how we can grow from young men who binge drink and get alcohol poisoning to old men who binge drink and snort Viagra from a cocaine straw. In the next installment I investigated how we can become well-adjusted collegiate alumni who never really move on from our "getting blacked out and having anymous sex with STD riddled co-eds" undergraduate ways. Now I am going to look at how we can avoid financial responsiblity and personal freedom by living under our parent's roof for our whole lives, while of course having them foot the bill so we can live with modern conveineces...like food and heat. Let's take a look at what I am talking about.
Stage 1: Being an Infant-Do you have any pets? Of course you do. Now do you ever look at your dog and wonder what the hell he did in his past life to get it so good? I mean think about it. You feed him. You make sure he gets exercise. You pick up his shit. You pay for all his medical bills, give him a place to live and are constantly showering him with attention so he knows that you give a shit about him. He doesn't pay for rent, utilities, groceries or cable. Really he just sleeps for 16 hours a day in front of the TV and sniffs his own balls. And that's fine because no one expects him to be productive or smart or to do anything of value. He doesn't have the intellectual capacity to realize that he is basically just a piece of shit drain on your economy. Basically domesticated pets live the life I've always dreamed about.
And they also live the lives that we all lived as infants. I mean think about it. All we did back then was cry, sleep, eat, shit our pants and have other people clean it up, and watch Barney all day so we wouldn't have an emotional break down and scream for the next 3 days. Zero responsibility. Zero expectations. Zero activity. Just living a life where other people made all the tough decisions for us and we got everything that we wanted so everyone else's lives wouldn't be miserable. Basically a cry, pooping, titty sucking free loader. Now that's what I call heaven. Why'd we ever have to grow up?
Stage 2: Going to School-This is where our lives start going downhill, because people start expecting things from us. Go to school Sack. Learn something Sack. Don't be the gigantic, 6-year-old who shits his pants in the middle of the kindergarten nap rug Sack. Don't put paste in that girls' hair to ward off her evil cooties Sack. Don't spell your name with a "Q" at the end, cause you'll never be Shaq. You're white Sack.
Expectations are raised. Dreams are crushed. You don't have the freedom to drink, gamble, or urinate on the side of buildings. All work, no play, and soon...no naps between the hours of 8 AM-3 PM. And all my parents gave me during this period was a roof over my head, food in my belly, and the shame of being the only 2nd grader who can't even spell his name right on the top of his weekly spelling tests. Plus they ate all my halloween candy, videotaped it, and let the entire nation laugh at my because I thought 2+2=5. Don't believe me? Check out the 3:31 mark of the youtube video below...if you are somehow one of the 7 people in America who hasn't seen it already.
Stage 3: High School High-This is where the story really gets interesting. No it doesn't...but whatever. So what changes in high school? Well, a few things. First the government lets us drive (about 9 years too late in my opinion). Second, we achieve the intellectual capacity to learn that our parent's only tell us not to do something because that thing is invariably awesome. Third we mature physically. Now that's a pretty dangerous trifecta right there.
Our parent's still place BS rules on us, but now we know to rebel. We know that chugging warm Natty Lights so we can get hammered and puke all over some chick during a slow dance in a freshman mixer is a lot more fun that being awkward and sober and trying to keep your boner from poking that very same chick during that very same slow dance. We know that sneaking out to the faculty parking and hitting rocks with sticks until we smash a teacher's windshield is a lot more useful than trying to learn physics out of a book. We know that downloading illegally-pirated internet porn and watching it and doing stuff to it feels a lot better than playing solitaire. Hell after watching Scarface, or Sam Hurd play football, we even know that snorting copious amounts of sugar (or any white powder) makes us literally bullet proof. Basically we know it all.
Our parents set rules. We break them. Sometimes, like when your mom cracks one of your jizzed encrusted blankets in half, we get caught. More freedom, just slightly more responsibility, and we still don't have to pay for anything. Now that's what I call a win-win-win situation right there.
Stage 4: College Breaks-You know how when you go to college and the first things that you do is get drunk 6 nights a week, have unprotected sex, refuse to put in any sort of intellectually effort of any sort and realize that staying up past 2 AM every night won't necessarily mean that you are going to hell or that you will die from sleep deprivation. Then do you know how your parents are ready to check you into Betty Ford as soon as you come home for Thanksgiving, get blacked out drunk and pass out naked with a couple of hookers on the front lawn? Like this stuff wasn't happening every other day for the past 3 months Mom and Dad. Get with it. After all you get what you paid for...and your parents paid for college now didn't they?
Stage 5: Loser College Graduate-What's my biggest problem with society? Well after elementary school you go to middle school. Then, after middle school you go to high school. And after high school you go to college. And after college you are just expected to get a job and provide for yourself the next day, and if you don't...then you are a failure. Hey man, I haven't paid for a God damn thing for the past 22 years...and now I have to get a job, find a place to live, get health insurance and buy enough groceries that I won't die of starvation all of a sudden? And, when I move back in with my parent's with no plans or prospects after graduation, all of a sudden I am some kind of free loader who should be forced to live on the street and smoke crack so I can go on welfare? I mean...what's the rush? How about giving me 4 or 5 more years to figure shit out? It takes a lot of people just a shade under a decade to do what they want to do. Yeah, really...they're called doctors.
Stage 6: The Family Man-Hopefully you'll eventually get your shit straight, get married 2 or 3 times, and raise a discontented family of your own. And there's no question that having kids will just be a drain on your wallet and an emotional let down when they grow up to be bigger failures than you ever were. But there is still some upside in all of this.
That's right for the first time ever, at least as an adult, coming back to your parents' house is a good thing. Think about. When your kids are running around naked and shitting all over couches and breaking valuable heirlooms...it won't be your problem. When the baby is crying in the middle of the night all you have to do is wait out your elderly parents until they are forced to get up, change the baby's diaper and get poop on their old, brittle hands. And when 5 PM or so comes around and you can no longer control your crippling alcoholism you can now feel free to get hammered and head back to the office to give an ad presentation, knowing that you are shirking your responsibility for your kid's well-being and handing them off to their grandparents for the evening. Plus your married, so you can even get busy under your parent's roof...while neither them or God can say a damn thing about it. Jackpot.
Stage 7: Life Failure-Look, as inevitable as it is that you will eventually have a couple of failed marriages and several terribly adjusted children, it's equally inevitable that your alimony coupled with your debilitating drinking will lead to your economic ruin and attempted suicide. Welcome to the Great Recession b****.
Now enjoy moving in with your parents and being an admitted failure. At least you businessmen will last till your middle-aged or so to lose your money, dignity and will to live when you're forced to move back into your parent's basement. I mean I'm 24...and I've already blown way past this point.
Stage 8: Homeless Squatter-Your parents kicked you out for being hammered 17 hours a day and stealing money to pay for the low class prostitutes you are constantly banging in their house. You've also been evicted from the shanty towns and foreclosed homes that you've been squatting in. As mentioned in the opening you're living under a bridge with the other weird, homeless people and doing unspeakable sexual acts just to support the drug addiction that all vagrants ultimately acquire (Think Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries. Just don't get no better than that.)
So what do you do? Easy. Sneak back in your parents house. They'll never see it coming. And, even if they do, they can't kick you out again. After all...they're suppose to love you. And, not to be too gay or anything (not that there's anything wrong with that), but more than likely...they actually do. Ahhhhhhh.
Text Updates and Big Ups
My current text messaging score since December 9th is +259 (223-inbox, 189-sent, 2 from females). And since both of those female texts are from my Mom...I've clearly had a really social week here. Yeah...I'm not very sexually active. Plus my twitter score has dropped to 207 followers so...dang it.
I also don't have any extra big ups to extend in this edition of the blog. Check last week's blog for some extra special big ups, and do something that is important enough that I will thank you for it on the interweb. Thanks...and good luck.
As surely all of you know the holiday season is upon us. And while this may mean Xmas trees and stockings and a fat Jesus giving out presents to children of at least a middle-class upbringing to Christians, or dradles and fancy candle holders to our Jewish friends, or Kwanzaa roots and branches to our Black brothers out there, it can only mean one thing to everyone no matter their color, creed, religion, gender, sexual orientation, or age. It means coming home....and staying with your parents.
And it's funny that, in many ways, we dread this return under our parents' roof. After all this is where all of us begin our lives; well after the hospital (assuming your parents either 1-have health insurance or 2-aren't crazy hippies who believe it's safer for children to be born underwater or something). It's where we were raised. Where we were cared for. Where we were given clothes, food, money, lectures, a lack of emotional support, spankings, and a sense disappointment that will make us realize that being a homeless bum living under a bridge really does make you a failure. It's where, unless you are an f'in weirdo, we masturbated. It's home.
That being said, "home" can mean different things to different people. And that's because our parents are different. Some of them are rich. Some are poor. Some of them drunks. Some are squares. Some of them eat meat. Some of them don't shave their legs or are functional members of society. None of them are the same, except for the fact that they all manage to take away our freedom.
Right now we live under their roofs, so we live by their rules. What can you say? Parents, you can't live with them, but during the holidays...you have to. So, have fun masturbating.
The "Living With the Rents" Life Cycle
Welcome to the third installment in the Sack's "Life Cycle" series, which investigates how we grow, mature, get drunk, and lie to the people that we love. In the first installment we looked at how we can grow from young men who binge drink and get alcohol poisoning to old men who binge drink and snort Viagra from a cocaine straw. In the next installment I investigated how we can become well-adjusted collegiate alumni who never really move on from our "getting blacked out and having anymous sex with STD riddled co-eds" undergraduate ways. Now I am going to look at how we can avoid financial responsiblity and personal freedom by living under our parent's roof for our whole lives, while of course having them foot the bill so we can live with modern conveineces...like food and heat. Let's take a look at what I am talking about.
Stage 1: Being an Infant-Do you have any pets? Of course you do. Now do you ever look at your dog and wonder what the hell he did in his past life to get it so good? I mean think about it. You feed him. You make sure he gets exercise. You pick up his shit. You pay for all his medical bills, give him a place to live and are constantly showering him with attention so he knows that you give a shit about him. He doesn't pay for rent, utilities, groceries or cable. Really he just sleeps for 16 hours a day in front of the TV and sniffs his own balls. And that's fine because no one expects him to be productive or smart or to do anything of value. He doesn't have the intellectual capacity to realize that he is basically just a piece of shit drain on your economy. Basically domesticated pets live the life I've always dreamed about.
And they also live the lives that we all lived as infants. I mean think about it. All we did back then was cry, sleep, eat, shit our pants and have other people clean it up, and watch Barney all day so we wouldn't have an emotional break down and scream for the next 3 days. Zero responsibility. Zero expectations. Zero activity. Just living a life where other people made all the tough decisions for us and we got everything that we wanted so everyone else's lives wouldn't be miserable. Basically a cry, pooping, titty sucking free loader. Now that's what I call heaven. Why'd we ever have to grow up?
Stage 2: Going to School-This is where our lives start going downhill, because people start expecting things from us. Go to school Sack. Learn something Sack. Don't be the gigantic, 6-year-old who shits his pants in the middle of the kindergarten nap rug Sack. Don't put paste in that girls' hair to ward off her evil cooties Sack. Don't spell your name with a "Q" at the end, cause you'll never be Shaq. You're white Sack.
Expectations are raised. Dreams are crushed. You don't have the freedom to drink, gamble, or urinate on the side of buildings. All work, no play, and soon...no naps between the hours of 8 AM-3 PM. And all my parents gave me during this period was a roof over my head, food in my belly, and the shame of being the only 2nd grader who can't even spell his name right on the top of his weekly spelling tests. Plus they ate all my halloween candy, videotaped it, and let the entire nation laugh at my because I thought 2+2=5. Don't believe me? Check out the 3:31 mark of the youtube video below...if you are somehow one of the 7 people in America who hasn't seen it already.
Stage 3: High School High-This is where the story really gets interesting. No it doesn't...but whatever. So what changes in high school? Well, a few things. First the government lets us drive (about 9 years too late in my opinion). Second, we achieve the intellectual capacity to learn that our parent's only tell us not to do something because that thing is invariably awesome. Third we mature physically. Now that's a pretty dangerous trifecta right there.
Our parent's still place BS rules on us, but now we know to rebel. We know that chugging warm Natty Lights so we can get hammered and puke all over some chick during a slow dance in a freshman mixer is a lot more fun that being awkward and sober and trying to keep your boner from poking that very same chick during that very same slow dance. We know that sneaking out to the faculty parking and hitting rocks with sticks until we smash a teacher's windshield is a lot more useful than trying to learn physics out of a book. We know that downloading illegally-pirated internet porn and watching it and doing stuff to it feels a lot better than playing solitaire. Hell after watching Scarface, or Sam Hurd play football, we even know that snorting copious amounts of sugar (or any white powder) makes us literally bullet proof. Basically we know it all.
Our parents set rules. We break them. Sometimes, like when your mom cracks one of your jizzed encrusted blankets in half, we get caught. More freedom, just slightly more responsibility, and we still don't have to pay for anything. Now that's what I call a win-win-win situation right there.
Stage 4: College Breaks-You know how when you go to college and the first things that you do is get drunk 6 nights a week, have unprotected sex, refuse to put in any sort of intellectually effort of any sort and realize that staying up past 2 AM every night won't necessarily mean that you are going to hell or that you will die from sleep deprivation. Then do you know how your parents are ready to check you into Betty Ford as soon as you come home for Thanksgiving, get blacked out drunk and pass out naked with a couple of hookers on the front lawn? Like this stuff wasn't happening every other day for the past 3 months Mom and Dad. Get with it. After all you get what you paid for...and your parents paid for college now didn't they?
Stage 5: Loser College Graduate-What's my biggest problem with society? Well after elementary school you go to middle school. Then, after middle school you go to high school. And after high school you go to college. And after college you are just expected to get a job and provide for yourself the next day, and if you don't...then you are a failure. Hey man, I haven't paid for a God damn thing for the past 22 years...and now I have to get a job, find a place to live, get health insurance and buy enough groceries that I won't die of starvation all of a sudden? And, when I move back in with my parent's with no plans or prospects after graduation, all of a sudden I am some kind of free loader who should be forced to live on the street and smoke crack so I can go on welfare? I mean...what's the rush? How about giving me 4 or 5 more years to figure shit out? It takes a lot of people just a shade under a decade to do what they want to do. Yeah, really...they're called doctors.
Stage 6: The Family Man-Hopefully you'll eventually get your shit straight, get married 2 or 3 times, and raise a discontented family of your own. And there's no question that having kids will just be a drain on your wallet and an emotional let down when they grow up to be bigger failures than you ever were. But there is still some upside in all of this.
That's right for the first time ever, at least as an adult, coming back to your parents' house is a good thing. Think about. When your kids are running around naked and shitting all over couches and breaking valuable heirlooms...it won't be your problem. When the baby is crying in the middle of the night all you have to do is wait out your elderly parents until they are forced to get up, change the baby's diaper and get poop on their old, brittle hands. And when 5 PM or so comes around and you can no longer control your crippling alcoholism you can now feel free to get hammered and head back to the office to give an ad presentation, knowing that you are shirking your responsibility for your kid's well-being and handing them off to their grandparents for the evening. Plus your married, so you can even get busy under your parent's roof...while neither them or God can say a damn thing about it. Jackpot.
Stage 7: Life Failure-Look, as inevitable as it is that you will eventually have a couple of failed marriages and several terribly adjusted children, it's equally inevitable that your alimony coupled with your debilitating drinking will lead to your economic ruin and attempted suicide. Welcome to the Great Recession b****.
Now enjoy moving in with your parents and being an admitted failure. At least you businessmen will last till your middle-aged or so to lose your money, dignity and will to live when you're forced to move back into your parent's basement. I mean I'm 24...and I've already blown way past this point.
Stage 8: Homeless Squatter-Your parents kicked you out for being hammered 17 hours a day and stealing money to pay for the low class prostitutes you are constantly banging in their house. You've also been evicted from the shanty towns and foreclosed homes that you've been squatting in. As mentioned in the opening you're living under a bridge with the other weird, homeless people and doing unspeakable sexual acts just to support the drug addiction that all vagrants ultimately acquire (Think Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries. Just don't get no better than that.)
So what do you do? Easy. Sneak back in your parents house. They'll never see it coming. And, even if they do, they can't kick you out again. After all...they're suppose to love you. And, not to be too gay or anything (not that there's anything wrong with that), but more than likely...they actually do. Ahhhhhhh.
Text Updates and Big Ups
My current text messaging score since December 9th is +259 (223-inbox, 189-sent, 2 from females). And since both of those female texts are from my Mom...I've clearly had a really social week here. Yeah...I'm not very sexually active. Plus my twitter score has dropped to 207 followers so...dang it.
I also don't have any extra big ups to extend in this edition of the blog. Check last week's blog for some extra special big ups, and do something that is important enough that I will thank you for it on the interweb. Thanks...and good luck.
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