Don’t (re) see Ted until you read this

Ted is a depressing drama about a little boy who makes a wish that his Teddy Bear could really talk, and God in a surprise twist, who is watching a little boy for some reason, and really wants to make him happy, in a way that will make it hard for him to form lasting relationships with women, and it just so happens that this particular little boy, who at this point is a friendless loser, will grow up to be super good looking, and extremely buff despite seemingly never going to the gym, and has an addiction to marijuana and the associated munchies, so someone who seems to ‘supernaturally’ have a perfect body, grants this wish!

Why does god want to do this? Well if you thought it was for some sexual reason then you’d be dead wrong. Because in a huge surprise, it’s actually a movie about a talking Teddy Bear. The real reason is because god has a point to make – that if you reach the exact age of thirty-five, then it is really important that it be pointed out to you over, and over again that you should have your life sorted out by now, with ‘now’ being the exact age thirty-five. Which is the age I am currently.

In this movie there is a fucking living talking teddy bear, and no one seems to really care that much, and yet the fact that a thirty-five year old still likes to have fun, and not be all like serious all the time, is pointed out again, and again, and again. This is really quite mean. Especially if you happen to be in the audience and aged thirty-five, which is the age I share with the lead character, unpredictably.

In a surprise twist - I personally am exactly thirty-five years old! In actual fact if I did the math, and I won’t because math is for mature grown up people, today may be close to me being in the dead center of the one year I will be thirty-five years old. Also I still like having fun and am not serious all the time, and this movie seemed to want to tell me that me being very single, not having achieved much and still enjoying immature things, meant I was not a real man yet. Especially if I happened to be exactly thirty-five years old, which is the age that I am. 

I think the moment in the movie which hit home the most was when the girlfriend, played by the supremely gorgeous Mila Kunis, addresses the camera and says ‘hey if you’re thirty-five it would be pretty pathetic if you’re still getting wasted with your friends and watching lots of TV. Even if by some fluke you can get wasted tones, never go to the gym, and still have a body like a Greek god, and that’s not true with you David Tieck, and really, I mean what kind of loser is thirty five, single, at the movies by himself, and still fucking around in life with no real direction? I may not have great taste in men, I mean there are rumors I am dating Ashton Kutcher, who may be the most unlikable person on earth, but at least he’s not thirty five! Plus, how come, in a shocking twist, your spellcheck thinks sometimes it has to be ‘thirty five’ and yet other times it has to be ‘thirty-five’ what kind of a pathetic excuse for a man are you? Ashton doesn’t have these problems’

This rant really affected me, because, shockingly, I am thirty five, because she said my name directly, and because if she really is dating Ashton Kutcher then it is proof there is no god, and if there isn’t then what the hell made that Teddy Bear talk? Also because it was really out of character, like remember in ‘When Harry Met Sally’ when whatsherface? Meg Ryan (‘whatsherface’ refers not to my forgetting her name, but to her the bad plastic surgery she has had on her face) fakes the orgasm in the deli? Well that was really out of character from Sally, and so really unbelievable, and became the reason many people didn’t like that movie, and was so bad they even eventually copied it for a crap cereal commercial, and the writer of When Harry Met Sally died last week, so why would Seth MacPharlane want to remind us of this with Mila speaking out of character unless he wanted people, say thirty-five year olds, to worry about how old they are? I’ll tell you why, he wants thirty five years olds to worry about how old they are! And after a long amount of suspense I can reveal now that I AM thirty five, surprise!

Then again I was also affected when at one point Ted looks at the screen and says 'hey David Tieck, the guy who wrote and directed this movie and is doing my voice, has created several really awesome shows, is super successful, knows how to send an awesome backhanded message, managed to cast about a hundred gorgeous women in this movie and you’re a thirty five year old loser at the movies by himself.' This really seemed like a personal attack on me, because I am thirty-five.

Then again, for people who are not exactly thirty-five, unlike me, and bombshell here, I am thirty five, if there is such a thing, it is actually a really funny movie, better than I expected, I just suggest you go see it before it is confirmed that Mila Kunis is dating Ashton Kutcher, because if god is proven not to exist you’ll never buy the talking bear story, and if I am thirty-five, and I am, then how come I know the movie When Harry Met Sally so well I can tell if in a certain moment that a character acts out of character? I guess this review had to have a surprise somewhere!

And now, finally, finally revealed, finally!

And now, finally, finally revealed, finally:  After literally months of speculation the secret has finally been discovered, by ME, and so now, finally, finally revealed, finally - How the pyramids were built!

As a child the future first pharaoh of Egypt loved to play in the sand box. Only problem was that most days there was a bully there, and like all bullies he was a total dickhead, who would always steal the future pharaoh’s Tonka trucks, push over his sand castles and then pee on them and claim it was actually 7-up. Eventually, after literally many months of harassment, and even more tears, the future pharaoh had enough and screamed out ‘well one day I'm going to rule an empire and I'll build things so big you can never push them over before get making me taste the aftermath to see if it really did taste like the world’s least flavorful soda, so there’!

The bully, being a bully, was a moron and responded ‘yeah right’ and it turned out ‘yeah right’ was right! Only the bully meant it sarcastically so he was actually deadly wrong. And the bully was forced to watch as the future pharaoh did build an empire, locating it in the desert, so it would feel like a big fat sand box all of his own.

The final piece of his puzzle was still to be achieved, an enormous sandcastle that could never be pushed down. Still scared by the loss of literally twenty Tonka trucks, he demanded this castle be built using no modern trucks or machinery, and workers weren't even allowed to refresh themselves with 7-up, because there were far more flavorful refreshments like Dr Pepper, crocodile eye flavored Italian ice, lemon sunkist, and sprite with orange flavoring added frozen into ice cubes and put into Diet Coke, and the castle was to be built in a pyramid shape, because back in those days the only plastic buckets you could buy at the hardware store to make sand castles with were pyramid shaped, ‘round’ having yet to be invented, which is also why actual castles were yet to be invented.

For a while construction was slow. Worker’s struggled to lift the rocks up to make the castle, but then the pharaoh had a genius idea: Former bullies often now had teenage daughter, having knocked up classmates in school closets because they couldn’t figure out how to get the condoms out of the wrapper. The pharaoh would find these men, bring them to the construction site and say 'carry that rock up there or we'll gang rape your daughter’, and the former bullies, while being scum did still want to protect their daughters, because they knew what sort of filthy ideas men can have about teenage girls, and they didn’t want men thinking these things while raping their daughters, and they would get super strength and carry up the rock like some sort of man beast, or life size Tonka truck, which they also knew all about having stolen them for years.

Then the Pharaoh would have the daughters gang raped anyway, because those pharaohs were vindictive bastards with lots of bitterness hanging over from their own disappointing teenage years, sometimes they'd even make fun of little girls for thinking they'd seen Johnny Depp when they'd actually just seen a look alike, dicks!

After the gang rape the former bullies would be taken to the quarry and handed a pick and in their rage they would break up more stone for use in future construction of the giant sandcastle/ pyramids, and the pattern would continue until a pyramid was built.

Now the Pharaoh would appear and tell him they'd been Punk'd (something that made the future finder of these truths really pissed with himself to use, because it’s terrible hacky old reference and I was forced to use it, because for some reason in my story I wanted it so that the teenage girls hadn't actually been raped, what's happened to me?) and the former bully would say 'that's a horrible thing to do, really mean man, like not nice at all, if that Punk’d thing ever becomes a TV show your going to need to find a complete an absolute douchebag to host it’.

'TV show you say' the Pharoahs said, and being the head of a huge organization with lots money they had no idea about creativity or artistic merit and merely thought 'There might be money in that'.

There were only two problems –

1. TV seemed like something the Jews may end up controlling, so they thought they had better start a pattern of Middle Eastern attempts to eradicate Jews.
2. They really would have to find completely unlikable dickhead to host a show like that, and no one had even imagined anyone could be douchey enough, as even bullies that would steal Tonka trucks were nice enough to carry rocks to protect their daughters.

So for centuries they'd start race wars while simultaneously breeding the least likable people on earth with each other until eventually we got to the point where the Jews only controlled a large chunk of TV, and the seven millionth child was born to selective douche on douche breeding, and Ashton Kutcher was born and the entire Middle East went 'well the Jews do run large chunks of TV but some of them make really funny shows, and we found a man annoying and unlikeable enough to host this Punk'd show, so let’s get to it’.

And that day all attempts to eradicate the Jews ended and a really shitty show was born. God wasn't happy and immediately made the nose of the sphinx fall off to show his disgust, and for some reason people actually liked that shitty show, and more shows made up of really unlikable dickheads continued to get made. The end.

The lesson is that I was kind of embarrassed to write a piece using such an old, hack like ‘Punk’d’ reference, but then I realized as the only person who currently new the truth on how the pyramids were built I had better jump on this smack on current pop culture topical reference while I could, because you don’t want to waste shit like that, I mean who knows when I'll get the chance to talk about pyramids again? Plus at least the teenage girls didn’t actually get raped, and for some reason I literally care about that, what’s wrong with me?

I had an interesting day

One of the best things about having an interesting day is lots of interesting things happen, sometimes LOTS of interesting things. Here is a list of interesting things that happened to me on this interesting day. If you ask me this is LOTS of things.

-I saw three girls, all around 8-12 years old going nuts, and screaming and jumping up and down. You see they'd just met, and gotten autographs and photos with Johnny Depp. Well so they thought.  It was actually one of about twelve look alikes that hang on Hollywood Blvd, but they were CONVINCED it was Johnny. Kind of sad really.
- I got jealous of the real Johnny Depp for having that power over people.
- I realized that in that moment I was kind of suggesting when I'm nearly fifty I'd like it if 11 year old girls get horny for me.
- Even though I realized that's creepy I still kind of like the idea. Kind of sad really.
- Not that I would do anything with young girls obviously.
- I bought two pairs of shorts.
- Again, I would never do anything with young girls, but my jealousy at them getting horny for fake middle aged Johnny Depp instead of me made me silently enjoy the thought of the girls calling their friends boasting about who they’d met, only then to show the photos and have it pointed out that the man in those photos is definitely not Johnny Depp.
- I went for a long walk
- I saw Two homeless people talking, and the Mexican one was apologizing to the African American one for all the injustice his people have faced with the tag 'now I've said it, can we just be friends again?'
- I nearly got hit by a car as it angrily overtook another car, furious at its cruel insistence at not running me over as I crossed at a green light.
- I thought about buying a t-shirt but didn't find any I liked. Kind of sad really.
- In my mind if I was those girls friends I would be forever pointing out non celebrities and saying ' look it's brad Pitt, you should get an autograph’ and then referencing the time they claimed they saw Johnny Depp for comedic effect.
- I drank an orange juice.
- On my walk I passed the strip mall where I'd once seen a real douchey guy jump out of his Ferrari without opening the car door and as a joke I said to my friend 'look, it's the singer from Maroon 5' - my friend still tells people he saw Adam Lavine - I like to make fun of my friend for this.
- If I saw an old woman get out of a Porsche I may say 'look it's Steven Tyler, get an autograph - you know cause remember how you say you saw Adam Lavine’?
- I saw several very attractive girls in bikinis, and I say attractive because they were in their twenties which is an age group of girls I actually do want to get horny for me, and so unlike with those young girls I did think naughty thoughts, so there is definitely nothing creepy about me!
- None of them seemed to get horny for me and this made me jealous.
- If I were their friends I would totally find ways to make fun of them.
- Turns out I may be a dick
- If I apologize to an African American for all the injustice they've face can we please be friends again? Although if I ever become as big an asshole as the guy that nearly hit me with his car please hang me.

Yep Hollywood people, where you have to really FIGHT to avoid super, super interesting things, not interesting t-shirts though, boo.

At the bar

I was at the bar of a bar tonight, trying to buy drinks, because I like to support local businesses, and frankly because it's heroes like me that keep the economy working at all, yet where is our key to the city? Plus why a key to the city, why not a key to my storage room in Sydney? I lost that six months ago and there are things in there various people really need to get out at some point.

As I approached the crowded area near the congregation of people, there was a girl sitting at the very, very packed bar area who motioned with her finger for my face to get close to hers so she could ask me why the lady on the bar doing hula hoop was so sexy.

I didn’t know the answer to this question so the conversation stalled in an awkward silence, long enough for her to get chatting with another man for a while, and then she turned to me and asked ‘do you know this guy, because he is a total asshole’.

I said ‘I don’t know him, I am just, you know, um, trying to get a beer, sorry’ because I know just the right words to entice any lady, and my curt awkwardness resulted in her using her feminine charms to get me my economy saving, you're a hero Dave, beers licitly split.

I thanked her warmly and, failing to think of anything interesting to say, I stood looking at her silently for a moment or two and told her I needed to deliver the extra beer I bought to my friend who was waiting, that may well stop the local economy from completely collapsing, and my economy saving and suave demeanor caused her to use her finger to motion my face to hers again

 I knew what I had to do, I made a move, and I kissed her on the cheek.

She wasn’t satisfied. She said out loud 'no no' and then motioned my face to hers again. Clearly she wanted me to meet her parents, but I wasn’t willing to do that, but I was willing to offer slightly more than a kiss on the cheek, so I gave her a light kiss on the lips.

Wrong.

Turns out she actually wanted my ear near her mouth, in this crowded, noisy bar, just to tell me her name.

My humiliation was swift and obvious to all who witnessed, despite her shock mostly overwhelming her anger in the short term, and resulting in a part playful, mostly vengeful chew out for my disgustingly aggressive ways. So I slinked off red faced, back to my friends, and she turned back to the asshole and said ‘well in comparison you don’t seem so bad now’.

The point is this, I used to drink half a bottle of scotch for a warm up, before even going to a bar, how did I get to the point of being such an alcohol light weight I can now make an embarrassing fool of myself after literally only one beer?

Also, the jokes on her - from the tingling adjacent to my right lip I know I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a zit like a grapefruit so her disgust cost her the chance of waking up next to TWO sexy beasts!

Update: I just got home, she wouldn’t have needed to wait till tomorrow; she got a full show of zittown tonight. Now I am really confused. Was she just trying to steal my keys?

Would you read this?

It has come to that wonderful time once more - I am about to publish a new book! Yay. I am currently at the phase of deciding what it's going to look like, and what will be written on the book, and I humbly request your opinion. Below is my tittle, and then first draft back cover blurb, what do you think? Be honest please. Too long? Too short? Too obscure? Not enough detail? Too much detail? Not funny enough? Trying too hard? Too negative? I know you don't know the book yet, so this is the stuff that hopefully will make people pick it up in a store/ download it, so whatever your impression of what the book probably is would be welcome right now. Thankyou.

THE

EMBARRASSING-MEMORY

MURDERER

OR

The disaster that was my foolish year desperately trying to finally overcome being that weird, short, fat, shy, penisless, quiet loser you used to pick on in school

By

David Tieck

 

David Tieck has lived a life exploding with embarrassment, and resulting in a memory that has long been his worst enemy. If he is destined to ever truly be happy, then something had to change.

The plan was simple; David would take on challenges and adventures, each inspired by one of his most excruciating memories, and by letting the bad provoke the good he could finally be thankful for his past. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, pretty much everything.

In this uproarious memoir, David tries to hold it all together, while trying to scrounge out and meticulously study his every humiliating memory, all as things begin spiraling out of control, adventures give way to desperate attempts to boast, laughter turns to tears, self loathing sessions elongate, love dies, dreams die, friends, opportunities and passions are lost, and bridges are burned.

Darkly revealing and told with outlandish honesty and eccentric humor, David let’s us know just what it’s like to deal with a past of being the smallest, latest developing, most bullied, shyest, oddest, least popular, most self sabotaging kid, who oozed with problems in every department of his physical, mental and sexual development, all while failing at seemingly every attempt to make things better.

You’ll laugh and you’ll cringe, but if you relate to this book, please seek professional help, or at least find someone to give you a hug.  David is offering - well, exploding with need for one himself.

How to rob a bank (advice from someone who has done it)

Look, right off the bat, I want to make sure you all know that the goal from writing today’s blog is not at all to make you jealous, although I understand from the get go some of you will become jealous, and I am sorry about that, but it is just a going to have to be the flaw that comes from talking about this topic – you see – now please hold your chair hard just in case you descend into a jealous rage, I don’t want your hands somewhere that may result in a smashed computer screen – but here goes – yesterday I was forced to go to the bank!

I know what your thinking – ‘fuck you Dave, how come you always get to live the high life - I am stuck at home watching TV while I make love to my wife – and you’re out there getting to enjoy the thrill of long lines, emotionless staff, waiting behind people who some how manage to make a transaction that takes you twenty seconds last fourteen minutes all while you are charged a five dollar per minute waiting in line charge, seriously fuck you!’  And seriously, I hear you, I’d be jealous too, and I LIKE watching television, but you don’t know the full story.

And you are never going to know it, because I just typed it up and it was so painfully boring that I deleted it all – all you need to know is this – I got messed around in a very annoying and illogical way, and this required me to go into the bank, and now we are back to the point of your raging jealousy, which I think you should maybe try and get some pills for or something, because it can’t be healthy. Wait, are there pills for jealousy? And are there known medical disorders that are diagnosed as being caused by lots of jealousy? Because I swear there could be a huge untapped market in there.

‘Do you ever feel jealous of people who have things you don’t such as: money, status, fame, love, good food, access to activities mostly done on lakes, bank visits, biceps that are visible to the naked eye, women, plans to buy the latest apple products that are basically the exact same as the apple product they already have, cars, t-shirts with genuinely funny slogans on them, health, lack of a problem with excess sweating, living somewhere other than a box, know the recipe for chipotle mayo so they can make their own, great penmanship, a sexual orientation other than your own, a lack of cancer of the colon, friends with Christopher Nolan, or plenty of free time to go bowlin?’

‘If you answered yes to any or all of the above then answer this, are you ever tired?’

‘If so then you are officially diagnosed from this commercial as suffering from Jealoreah, and your tiredness is a sure symptom that you may, possibly even one day, suffer from any of the following conditions – old age, heart problems relating to old age, joint problems caused by having the same joints well into old age, old age related flatulence, or you could even die before reaching old age! – That is how serious Jealoreah is!’

Fortunately we now have a drug that can help – alcohol – now proven to enrage your jealousy to the point of committing violent crimes, that will land you in jail, where you will be kept far away from all the things that made you jealous in the first place – ask your doctor about alcohol today!’

Wait, where was I – the bank! While I was waiting for an hour to end up not really getting my annoying problem solved, I looked around the bank and was struck by how much this particular bank looked extremely bank rob prone – it is huge with vast amounts of wide open spaces, big benches for bank robbers to climb up on, yell a speech then shoot the ceiling, low security windows, and lots of customers who have been waiting so long their joints will no longer work in any punch a bank robber type of way – and as I was thinking this I suddenly remembered something – I – yes me – David Tieck – and this is a true story – have robbed a bank before!

Yep – and I stole – this is true also – five MILLION dollars!

Now before you go judging me I must confess it was literally an accident, and I didn’t steal it for me, I stole it for the company I was working for. You see I used to be in charge of millions of dollars of other people’s money every day, and this meant making countless bank transactions, at times in an enormous rush, and often for amounts well into the millions – plus I have terrible penmanship.

I once wrote out a check that was supposed to be for four million and something amount of dollars to be paid from a big bank to the company I worked for, so I wrote the amount out in words, and wrote down the number, and filled out the form that had the number written in both words and numbers several times, and took it into the bank. The teller then proceeded to only look at the number on the check, misread my 4 as being a 9, and deposited five million dollars too much into our account. It took several days for the mistake to be noticed, and several more days to be rectified, plenty of time for the money to have been absconded by any number of people who had access to those accounts, including me, and with still plenty of time to flee to the Luxembourg and freedom. And I have been to Luxembourg and it is delightful!

So there you have it, robbing a bank is easy, just use ambiguous looking 4s and hope for a moronic teller. Just don’t’ be jealous that it was me and not you who figured this out first, I’d hate for you to be diagnosed with Jealoreah.

What you want

If you ask me, there are seven main possible benefits from asking for what you want in this world:

1. You’re more likely to get what you want
2. You're more likely to avoid what you don't want
3. If you do get what you don't want you get to say 'hey this isn't what I wanted'
4. If you do get what you don’t want the person who didn't give you what you wanted will most likely say 'sorry'
5. If you did get what you want you get to say 'thank you'
6. Chicks dig movie stars and movie stars often get what they want and so if you get what you want you can tell chicks 'I'm just like a movie star ...... In some very minor occurrences, I mean just now and then, on occasions when I get what I want, cause movie stars get what they want too, can I get you a drink, anything you want'
7. Sorry and thank you are nice words

I think it’s pretty safe to say, that after reading this list, that most people would find themselves asking for what they want most of the time. Well despite these obvious benefits I often still don’t ask for what I want, and I developed this list! What kind of an idiot am I?

Answer: One that thinks someone saying sorry is worth not getting what you want.

Also I am the kind of idiot who almost never asks for exactly what I want in food service situations.

I believe this is mostly just because I'm painfully scared of doing things that will make me not liked, while simultaneously being very prone to feeling feelings of embarrassment, whether warranted or not, and I find suggesting to a waitperson that I don’t like what the chef has pre-ordained his food to consist of to be both an unlikable trait and one likely to bring me embarrassment.

One way this regularly manifests itself is that when I am ordering a burger, something I do several times a week, I usually don't ask for my burger to have no pickles or tomatoes, despite knowing that almost all burgers, especially here in the United States, come garnished with both pickles and tomatoes, and also knowing I particularly don’t like either of these fruits and/or weird green things on my burgers, or anywhere else on my plate thank you very much (thank you are nice words).

So I just order it the way it comes, and then pick off the un-tasty/ bad texture bits, and leave them to rot on my plate and remind me that I am pathetic for not ordering my burger the way I want it. (Oh also, have we forgotten that we ‘order’ food, in the army you CANNOT ignore an order. That’s why sergeants or whatever are always yelling shit like ‘that’s an order private’. So if they don’t cook you your steak the way you like it in the army does the cook get court marshaled?)

Then when the waitperson comes to pick up my plate I get super embarrassed at leaving the pickles and tomatoes on an otherwise empty plate and now I can't help but think the waitperson is staring at me saying with her imagination 'you could have ordered it the way you wanted you asshole' and the food prep person in the back now finds out and is yelling at me with his mind 'what you think I like slicing this shit so you can make me throw it in the trash' and before I know it everyone hates me. It’s a vicious cycle

Sometimes I'll specifically ignore ordering the burger that I currently feel like consuming just to avoid this excruciating turn of events.

Last week I was at my local diner and I did in fact order the burger, and yep, I did chicken out of ordering it exactly the way I wanted. As I pulled off the tomato and pickle I felt ashamed of myself. I have been trying to be less of a pathetic idiot recently when it comes to moronic things like this and I had failed again. Then I opened the ketchup bottle and it exploded!

Both of my hoodie’s arms were covered in Ketchup. The whole bench/ bar where I was sitting was covered. The man to my right had ketchup on his face and all over his left shoulder. The two men to his right had ketchup all over the front of their shirts. And the two ladies behind me to my right had ketchup speckles in numerous spots on their outfits.

As I researched later, and discovered first hand now, apparently sometimes when you re-fill a ketchup bottle that was still half full, the new and the old ketchup do not get along and create a gas build up which can have explosive results. This thing sprayed like the end of a porn movie, only with ketchup, and with half a bottle all over everyone!

I sat shocked for a moment, and then I apologized to everyone as profusely as I possibly could. As the staff ran to get us towels, and the manager started to promise free meals, and offer us free drinks, I kept saying sorry (a nice word) to everyone, it was my hand, on my ketchup bottle, that had done the crime, and I felt awful.

To a man they all assured me that it was not my fault, and everyone, for the most part, began joking around about what a crazy thing we had all just witnessed, and one old guy began telling us stories that had no point and didn’t go anywhere about his war days. I laughed too, but I also felt utter humiliation, for the others did not blame me but they also knew not my secret shame.

I hadn’t even wanted ketchup with my sweet potato fries, at all, I had wanted chipotle mayo, and at the last minute found myself too embarrassed to ask for it.

‘Who cares’ I thought to myself when the waitress had asked if I wanted anything else ‘I only found out that this chipotle mayo existed a week ago, and before then you were fine with ketchup on your sweet potato fries’ I had justified to myself, to try and convince myself I wasn’t just pussying out once more.  

Because you see, the chipotle mayo isn’t on the menu, I only know about it because a friend of mine ordered recently just on the outside chance that they had it, and I suspected that while they did have it, it was designated for use on another menu item which I have yet to discover, and that, and this is only a suspicion, they would prefer it if not too many people ordered it as a condiment to sweet potato fries, because that would create more work for the kitchen staff, and possibly slightly less profits for the owners, and I was worried that if I ordered it there would be discussions about me in the back, and someone would get upset and yell with their minds ‘you can’t expect me to make an extra little bowl of chipotle mayo everyday just in case you come in and order sweet potato fries you little shit!’ and I don’t want that imaginary person hating me, so I did not order it. And now disaster had struck, and we all sat in damp hastily wiped off clothes, with free food, but horrendous visions of ketchup flying and spraying all over us. And it was all my fault.

‘Well no more!’ I screamed at myself. No, I ORDERED myself. It was time I began to ask for what I want occasionally!

Possible benefit from asking for what you want in this world

8. Less likely to spray five strangers with an exploding ketchup bottle.

Tonight I returned to that very same diner for a late night diner. I may not have gotten a burger, because I wasn't in the mood to deal with the tomato and pickle issue, but, and call me a hero if you must, I did get ask for chipotle mayo to dip my sweet potato fries in, and they gave it to me with a smile, and not a single item of clothing was destroyed!

Ok if you won’t I will – David Tieck, you are a hero! And that’s an ORDER!

The Everyday Prophesy

As of today I finally have home Wi-Fi! Yay.

The good/ bad news about this is that I have to now put into action my plan to make sure I blog at least once a day. I want to make blogging more of a habit, and make it so my lovely readers can also get into a habit ‘Ok, just got to work, should I get my work started? Nah, I’ll get a dose of my daily Dave first.’ Yay.

I want to write more about what I am up to, and just more of me of the real me, and I want to keep writing weird stream of conciseness essays, and I want my stream of conscience to have some sort of context based on what I have been up to, and I just want the challenge, because that makes you better, and look I finally looked up something I have been putting off for years, the correct version of that term I have long loved and worked, with is officially ‘stream of consciousness’! I’ve been getting that shit wrong for years. 

Of course to write a blog every day I needed a home internet connection to begin, because it is too much to ask that I go out to find a coffee shop Wi-Fi or the like, because that would be too much of a commitment. Which is why I am starting today. Even though I have literally been on some form of Internet every day since I first thought about making this commitment.

And that’s been a long time. I first wanted to start when I was traveling around Asia nearly a year ago. I figured I would be doing interesting things every day and having those things to talk about would be a good way to begin. But then I got caught up doing interesting things and didn’t get around to it.

Then I thought I might start when I went to Toronto earlier this year. I figured I would be doing interesting things every day and having those things to talk about would be a good way to begin. But then I got caught up doing interesting things and didn’t get around to it.

Then upon moving back to Los Angeles I figured it was definitely time to start, because I want to write for TV here, and if I can’t prove I can write interesting things everyday by blogging then how will I know I am capable of writing interesting things everyday for a TV show. But then I got caught up doing interesting things and didn’t get around to it.

Also I let the lack of Wi-Fi give me an excuse. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Use the free Wi-Fi in the lobby of my building everyday? Hell no, I needed HOME Wi-Fi. Well that excuse has sailed.  Also the Wi-Fi guy got here early, and by the time he was done I found myself awake hours earlier than usual, and had the free time to write, so what did I do? I went to look at furniture, that’s what.

You see I don’t have any. I got my bed and TV done, and figured I would get around to the rest, but I haven’t yet. I eat on the floor everyday with a box for a table, and watch TV on the floor everyday next to my box. 

Now, here is the weird thing - when I am around really cool art, especially if I am watching it get made, I have a weird feeling. It’s hard to explain, but for now I will call it a ‘non-sexual spinal boner’. This is where my back starts to tingle, I don’t know what it is, but only artists give it to me, and I LOVE it. I fucking LOVE it. It’s been caused by all genres of art in the past, and feels incredible, and inspiring, and gets me off in a way nothing else can, and today I was getting a mad non-sexual spinal boner for really expensive furniture.

Either I really need to explore the LA art scene and get back into making art myself, or I’m officially horny for eccentric yet impractical and way overpriced coffee tables. While I know the former is true, it may also be the latter, because on my way home I stopped into a rock n roll photography gallery, and without much thought at all I bought a random coffee table book. It looks awesome on my box. I still don’t have any furniture; I’ve spent too much money on travelling recently to buy anything cool.

Basically what I am saying is who wants to check out an art gallery or two with me and then drive me to Ikea? Even if you don’t, feel free to just say you do and then put it off for a year or two, I’ll accept almost any excuse.

Don't (re) see Prometheus until you read this

A little while ago, right here in Ok, Intriguing, I proved without any doubt what so ever that aliens are already amongst us   How the entire world is in danger

Want even more proof? Well get this – I was on a plane recently flying from New York to Los Angeles and we were informed, that as the plane was full, that we were to pay especially attention to the boarding instructions, and asked that if we had any excess hand luggage to bring it up to be checked in. This relaxed me right away. If the airline staff are joking around then I know there is nothing to worry about, ha ha, I know, like anyone would ever not listen to boarding instructions, and like anyone would ever try to carry on excess luggage! That’s hilarious.

With a chuckling grin on my face I waited until my row was called and headed onto the plane. That’s when fear did consume me. Because, oh my god, there were aliens on the plane!!!!!!!!!!

How do I know? Because there were numerous ‘people’ already sitting in rows that HADN’T BEEN CALLED YET!!!! AND…. AND so many of the overhead bins were full of luggage that I had to leave my bag a full twenty rows from where I was sitting!  Sure these ‘people’ looked like people, but no HUMAN BEING would be so selfish.

Ok, I will accept for a moment, that there is the occasional person alive that is so selfish that they think that their sitting down early is worth the entire boarding procedure to be slowed down, and that their baggage in excess of what is allowed deserves a spot over a person’s baggage who has not broken any rules, said rules of course designed specifically for fairness and safety. But surely this select few people wouldn’t be flying, because someone so selfish would have no friends, and what’s the point of travelling if you are such a horrible person that you are friendless? Plus most of them are probably dead after being rightfully beaten to death after pushing in line somewhere. Also the staff check what row you are on before you walk down the gangway, and see how much you are carrying, so if they caught someone trying to board early and/or with too much carry on luggage they would rip up their ticket and say ‘this airline is puts the people who aren’t complete assholes first, enjoy your walk you scumbag!’

Also surely this is a security risk? So no I don’t buy that this is ‘people’. And there were dozens of them, and when I thought about it these ‘people’ are on literally every plane I ever board!

Clearly these ‘people’ don’t know the rules, and have not walked down the gangway. There is only one logical explanation. They are being 'beamed' onto planes!!!! And only aliens have beaming technology!

I’m not going to speculate why aliens would be beaming onto a planes – speculation is not required – aliens are planning, and training for, a monumental event which will include taking over literally every single plane and uprising from everywhere there is a public toilet. And yes, if you read the linked post above, you probably know that the toilets on all planes I am on are alien too. THEY HAVE HUMAN CLONED ALIENS AND TOILET ALIENS ON THESE PLANES! THIS EVENT IS GOING TO BE MONUMENTAL!!!!

Well Ridley Scott didn’t want to alarm anyone when making his latest movie about Aliens, by talking about the aliens clearly on earth here and now - instead be would like to take us to the future.

His future, in Prometheus, is a strange place, a place where humans have evolved to a point where we now have the technology to create among such things as completely life like robots, machines that can watch our dreams and childhood memories and space ships that can take us thousands of light years. And yet, bizarrely, despite all this advanced intelligence we have acquired a flaw in our intelligence that's has allowed us to man our first mission to the planet of our makers with only a very loose plan, that isn’t discussed among the crew until they get there, and with a crew made up exclusively with personal who are untrained, impossible to like or care for, have poor temperaments, are fond of acts of extreme stupidity and most strangely possess characteristics that bare strong comparisons to many cliché characters from movies that would have been made a century or so before. Wow, evolution is a strange beast!

How we have evolved this way is not explained. But it doesn't matter because Ridley has bigger things to worry about, because Ridley has attempted one of the ballsiest things in film making history.

‘Can I make a movie with zero suspense, believability, moments that surprise us, drama or likable characters, or stakes we care about, and still get the audience to watch all the way to the point where I let them know I was just setting up for the sequel the whole time?’

That takes serious balls Ridley. If I was making a big budget sci-fi movies I would at least throw in the odd likeable character, but then that’s why you’re a big shot and I am a whiney blogger.

So does he pull it off? The answer is yes. Most people did stay all the way to the point where he let us know he was just setting up a sequel, I think only three or four people walked out, and also I nearly missed the movie because the lady in line in front of me was begging for a re-fund because the movie was so bad, and trying to talk people out of buying tickets, yet myself and others still did buy tickets, so I think that’s a success.

A I did stay till the end, I think mostly because it looks really cool, by which I mean the lead actress has a hot body and is often wearing nothing but a bandage bikini, also I guess the world he created is coolish, although we seriously see very little of it.

Still I say save it for DVD or better yet, watch it on a plane, so if the make believe alien world on the screen bores you, you can just look around to the real life aliens all around you. Also I say next time you see one of those aliens has beamed on  your plane in advance and taken your overhead luggage bin space, abuse them, just because you’re an alien is no excuse for being a selfish cunt.

One of the world’s true geniuses

 As some of you may know, last week I was in New York, and while I was there I was lucky enough to meet one of the world’s true geniuses - Gerald Dundas - worlds foremost pizza smeller! Here is a transcript of the quick interview I was able to get with him.

Dave: So what kind of Pizza have you smelled?

Gerald: As I am sure you are aware, unless you are an ignorant fool, I have smelled just about every kind of pizza available anywhere including, but not limited to - Pepperoni! Meat Feast! And of course my crowning achievement - BBQ chicken hold the chicken.

Dave: Wow, that’s amazing, I personally really enjoy pepperoni, and you’ve smelled it! Wow! So do you just smell pizza here in New York?

Gerald: Of course not you idiot, how could I be the world’s foremost pizza smeller and only do it in one city, or even one country! I have smelled pizza around world, including, but not limited to - Italy, the Italian part of Switzerland, little Italy in new York, little Italy in New New York New York casino Las Vegas, little Las Vegas in new Italy casino in Geneva Switzerland and even in Spadinglton, the tiny tax haven independent island country on Lake Geneva Switzerland set up as an independent tax haven for Europe’s richest lactose intolerants who occasionally like to say 'stuff it, the flatulence is worth the odd slice of pizza, just give me a private island country on Lake Geneva so no one has to smell or hear my flatulence'

Dave: You mean ‘stuff it’ as in ‘stuff crust pizza’ I enjoy those?

Gerald: No you freaking moron, why would someone with lactose intolerance order pizza with a stuffed crust? That makes zero sense!

Dave: Why would they order pizza at all?

Gerald: Let me tell you something, I have smelled pizza in places such as, but not limited to - different buildings, private, homes, pizzerias, dumpsters behind pizzerias, on the breath of homeless people who live in dumpsters behind the pizzeria, and on the breath of buzzards that have eaten out the stomachs of a homeless man who ate out of the dumpster behind a pizzeria that had closed down four years earlier, so do you think I have time to ask the lactose intolerant why they would eat pizza?

Dave: Yes, I mean it’s not a long question, and it’s not like your mouth is busy while you smell?

Gerald: How dare you! Let me tell you something you arrogant fool, I reckons I’ve smelled just about every pizza there is, and you don’t get to where I am in life by going around asking people stuff. Like look at you, you’re asking me stuff, and I bet you’ve never in smelled half the pizza in half the places I have.  You’re wasting your life with all this ask questions business, you idiot!

Dave: Hey I have smelled a fair bit of pizza in my life, I even smelled a pizza buffet once, and that had lots of pizza on it!

Gerald: Pizza buffet, you stupid moron, can you enjoy a Monet and a Picasso at the same time? Can you ‘make love’ to a buffet of women at once? I could teach you some lessons kid, including, but not limited to – how to appreciate the smell of one pizza at a time, telling people about how much you enjoyed smelling one pizza at one time, and smelling pizza with someone who you’ve told about enjoying smelling pizza with who responded to your passion with a request to smell pizza with you one day. Yet frankly you don’t deserve to know these lessons. Interview over.

Dave: Wait, wait, please just a couple more questions, including, but not limited to – are there any pizza you have plans to smell in the near future?

Gerald: Ah, you are capable of learning kid, and yes I'd like to smell pizza in Antarctica one day, plus I never did smell Pizza Hut, I've heard they're popular.

Dave: Just one last question, you’ve smelled the best, but where is your favorite place to eat pizza?

Gerald: Are you kidding dickhead? I don't eat it, that stuff smells like shit, are you fucking retarded?

Ah Gerald Dundas, true genius, bit of an asshole. Now for some reason I feel like going for pizza.

My popular request, no DEMAND!!!!

Losing our virginity... EVERYWHERE

One of my all time dreams has been to host my own travel show. Two years ago in an effort to make that dream come true I made my own mini-pilot with my awesome friend Faith. This is it! Now who owns a TV network and has a spare time slot rolling around?

Don't (re) see ‘The Dictator’ till you read this.

Twenty odd years ago when I was timorous teenage boy in the backwards of Sydney Australia, I formed a crush on cute red head soap opera star named Isla Fisher.

A few years later the internet was invented and I, while doing research into why I constantly needed to apply medicated creams to my body, discovered an interview Isla had granted some lucky journalist, where she spoke of losing her virginity at a mere sixteen years old, saying:

'I was going to break up with my boyfriend but I realized I hadn't had sex yet, so I slept with him and then dumped him.'

My infatuation with her was lost that day - like a favorite Band-Aid that I forgot to glue on before going for a swim. For you see I was no longer convinced it would be me who took her virginity and seeing as at the time I was positive I would share my virginity only with someone sharing hers with me, I sadly, was forced to form unrealistic crushes on other teenage celebrities that I wrongly thought may still be virgins.

However, I was but only one of the boy affected by her story. That boy who was given her amazing orange haired rose was also affected, and he became extremely paranoid about his sexual performance after that day:  

'She gave me her virginity, the most wonderful gift a girl can give a boy, so obviously she loved me, so how bad must I have been to be dumped right after?' he began mumbling on trains, and in math class at school.

One boy who was not affected by her story was a man named Sasha Baron Cohen. Having never been a teenage boy in Australia he never formed a crush on her only to have his dream of sharing his virginity with her destroyed by one bad interview and the invention of the Internet, and one day he met the gorgeous Isla at the annual ‘we are not American but one day will be famous in America party’ that Elton John throws every year in London and he was immediately infatuated with her.

‘I will do anything to share my virginity with her' he declared, and he set off on a worldwide journey to discover what she liked. Worldwide being the distance the boat then took as the only way to get to Australia where Isla was from. ‘Worldwide cruises’ was the name of the cruise line, and they also stopped occasionally in Tahiti.


Sasha, having spent three fruitless years in Tahiti finding out practically nothing about Isla (other than her preference for Pinna Coladas over being thrown in active volcano’s), continued his journey to Australia. Upon de-shipping he made several puns about the irony of him exploring Islands to find out about Isla, and discovering many Australian’s responded with ‘I don’t get it’ he decided on a new plan, to track down Islas exes to see if he was anything like them.

After much research, and one notable attempt for laughs in an Internet café by yelling ‘research, more like reSURF’ he finally tracked down one of Isla’s exes, now residing in a mental institution, having descended from mumbling about Isla into a multiple personality schizophrenic. Sasha declared that day that he would become as much like this man as possible in hope that by doing so he could win Isla’s hand.

He did mountains of LSD and smoked all the marijuana he could get his hands on, and sure enough various personalities began springing forth, and he did win Islas hand in marriage.

What he didn't expect though, was that documentary filmmakers would begin following him around and releasing documentaries on his various personalities, the best of which were called Borat and Bruno.

Things were going great for Sasha; he was now a movie star and married to a beautiful Australian red headed soap opera star, who now bore him two children. Then one day, while looking up pictures of his wife on the Internet, he ran into one of the earliest pages of the Internet, where an old interview Isla had done was still stored, it’s pages yellow with age.

'I though we were going to share our virginities!' he screamed at her as he read it.
'We have two children together' she replied 'so probably not, just let it go, I don’t want you to end up with multiple-personalities like my old boyfriend'

But Sasha couldn't let it go ‘don’t tell me not to form multiple personalities’ he yelled at her ‘and besides I thought that was why you fell in love with me!’

His mind didn’t know how to deal with this betrayal, and a new personality did grow out of him - a Muslim dictator in fact, sure to be rewarded with seventy-two virgin Australian red head soap stars in heaven'

The documentarians were ecstatic of course, and they stood gleefully by filming as he shot people, had sex with famous women, cried about having no one to cuddle with, even though later on we’d find out he had a plethora of options for cuddle companions, and even injured small boys.

The resulting documentary ‘The Dictator’ is at times hilarious, at times not so much, and leaves the audience pondering life’s big questions. Such as:

-       Were all men in mental institutions dumped immediately after taking Isla Fisher’s virginity?

-       If a cute Australian red head soap star offered her virginity to me would it be worth it for the schizophrenia? And

-       Would I ever even want to be a huge movie star if I never got to share my virginity with Isla Fisher?

If you answer:

-       Only 29%

-       Yes and

-       No

Then you will love this film.