Stall Tactics

I have never been more defensive in my life than when I walked up to a store owner and tried to calmly explain that all 3 stalls in the bathroom were clogged while also making it explicitly clear that I simply walked in to the situation and had nothing to do with it. I ended up sounding like an ironically less potty mouthed version of that rapper, Shaggy, as I tried to explain the situation:

“There was poo-poo in the first stall, wasn’t me”

“Mummified Hershey’s in the second stall, wasn’t me”

“I need to go home and shower, wasn’t me”

“You can see it on the cameras, wasn’t me”

Death Perception

In order to compensate for my visual deficits while pulling my car in to the tight fitting garage, we put Styrofoam pool tubes on either edge of the garage door frame and a tennis ball is hanging from the front area so that I don’t give the stairwell going up into the kitchen any unnecessary renovations. When my car’s not in the garage, these helpful tools have essentially turned my side of the garage into what looks like a McDonald’s Play Area. And completely modestly speaking, if you were to head upstairs, you could get some of the best hamburgers in town (and possibly a completely free of charge spontaneous fireworks show, which may or may not feature some language not suitable for children, which I apologize for in advance

First World Twilight Zone Problems

Last night around 5 p.m. I called a pizza place in the area and ordered a Chicken Caesar Wrap. (Judging by the number of times I had to repeat my seemingly simple order) the incompetent pizza receptionist informed me that my order would be ready in a half an hour. We drove over to the address on the flyer and when we approached the door to the place, there was a sign saying that they were closed (and had been since 3 p.m.) I then hit redial on my phone and got a Verizon female robot informing me that the number had been disconnected and that the Great Robot Invasion of Earth had begun and they were personally coming for me next, seeking to avenge all of the household appliances I had hit in frustration over the years. I’d like to close this out by addressing two people: Mom and Pop shop owners who can go from having a half hour wait time to completely out of business in a matter of fifteen minutes, I am truly sorry for the economic hardships you face in this day and age. Secondly, to whichever alternate universe pizza shop my order went to and whoever the alternate universe Mark Woonton is who got to enjoy MY wrap: I will find you and I will kill you.  

Birthday Rant

My birthday is that weird day of the year on Facebook when I want to say thank you to everyone, but I don't want to sound like some egotistical celebrity giving an Oscar acceptance speech (trust me, this will be much longer) But at the same time, I can't be hitting "like" and saying thank you all day. So, as much as I'd like to make you feel special individually, that was/is your parents job and if they didn't do that, quite frankly, they dropped the ball and I don't feel as though I should have to carry the burden of picking up the slack for that. Also, much like graduation day, today is kind of bittersweet because, to my knowledge, the only "celebrity" I share a birthday with is Benito Mussolini, and that's one of those July 29th dark family secrets that we'd rather forget. Special shout out to the kitchen crew for making coming in to work today special as the day featured a custom made Brunello Cucinelli birthday hat (which I'm beginning to think may have been a knockoff given the fact that it was made out of paper) and an absolutely angelic rendition of "Happy Birthday" that I'm positive would've got them through the first two rounds of American Idol. Also, an extra special thanks to a certain Spanish woman for making this predominantly Irish dude some French Toast (Boom! Ethnic Diversity!) And can't wait for my scrumptious spaghetti dinner tonight! I am happy to report that, at 23 years old, I am above the ages associated with Taylor Swift and Avril Lavigne songs. Which means that from here on out, I look forward to conversing with mature, independent adult women, much like I myself am now a mature, adult young man capable of expressing one thought and seeing that singular thought through to completion

Unromantic Getaway

I think the best part about having my own place is that now, whenever I'm talking to a girl at the bar and things aren't going so well, I have a place I can go to be by myself and cry

Wherefore is thy bathroom?

I fear that it may be a long time before I can start having company over at my place.
Just spent about 5 minutes looking around for where I decided to keep my sandwich bags and as I got more and more frustrated with each drawer, it just ended up looking like I was playing a kitchen-wide game of foosball (not my best metaphor, I'll admit. I was going to do something like I looked like the mother of 12 checking closets for monsters at bedtime, but I didn't like that one either)

Anyway, I can just picture it now:

"Mark, where's your bathroom?"
"Ummm, uhhh. Vacuum closet....Basement. Front door....Ahhhhh, not on the carpet!"

Multiple Choice

Someone whose fridge consists mostly of soda and beer is:
A. Awesome
B. A bachelor
C. In desperate need of a dietician
D. Both A & B...
E. Thinks he's A, but he's actually C
F. None of the above
G. All of the above
H.. OK, seriously, what happened to the good ole days when it was just A thru D, the test makers of today are out of control! You're telling me that I have 5 minutes to complete this section of the test and I have to read an encyclopedia-length essay and then go through questions with a battle of Gettysburg casualties sized list of possible answers! I imagine Regis Philbin is livid

More Swearing Per Capita Than Anywhere In The World

Sometimes, gaining recognition for something can take place over the course of many years. Such was the case with my childhood babysitters’ house becoming known as a place where, each day, we were forced to eat everything on our plate at lunchtime. We were then promptly ordered outside and told to stay there for hours on end. Coincidentally, once we kids were in the yard, an angry mob who were searching for a man named Jerry would enter into her living room. It was nice of her to protect us like that. In other cases, you can work your entire life to achieve success as a professional athlete and yet, your entire career is highlighted by one of the most highly broadcasted, gosh darn it Just Go for It pickup lines of all-time (i.e. Joe Namath)

This weekend, I had the esteemed privilege of visiting an area which boasts more swearing per capita than anywhere else in the world. And I will tell you, much like visiting the Grand Canyon and seeing the sunset right in front of you, rather than watching it on the Discovery channel through the antennaed TV at your grandmothers’ house while trying to mentally block out your grandfathers’ semi-inebriated rant about all the time he spent outside at your age, you truly don’t have an appreciation for it until you go to the paintball fields of northern New Hampshire.

Given the casual commonality of cursing used in today’s society by actors, musicians and angry elementary school bus drivers, my fear is that the art form of the beauty that is badmouthing and the absolute verbal versatility in being applicable to express so many human emotions that is vulgarity, will be lost on this generation. 

I feel as though my point is best illustrated in this way: Several years ago, my family and I went on a trip to Yellowstone National Park. As our plane touched down in Jackson Hole, we were greeted on all sides not by the super structures, heavy industry and crutch-bearing bums that inhabit the inner city, but we were enclosed by beautiful mountains, mountains! Not too far off, there were also several deer eating some grass in the field. It was an absolutely serene setting. However, after several days, and being treated to the sight of bison, black bears and sulfur stinking explosive geysers, quite frankly, seeing a deer had the visual wow factor of a mailbox. On an unrelated note, after witnessing a traffic jam resulting from 1,800 pound bison meandering into the middle of the street and practically brushing up against our car, I will not likely ever complain about freeway congestion caused solely by the human inability to adequately operate heavy machinery ever again. The point of this now hopelessly derailed metaphor being, we can’t lose our appreciation of the deer just because we’ve had an overexposure to them.

Now, it would be impossible for me to cover all of the swear-worthy situations one would encounter on the paintball field by myself, so I’ve enlisted the help of a few foulmouthed friends who, thanks to the implementation of the Swear Jar, have amassed a debt rivaled in its monetary value only by that of the government which supposedly allows them the freedom of speech to use such language in the first place. They’ve unfortunately now been forced to take up jobs as fictitious, situational stand-ins used to illustrate a silly point. I, for one, do not believe that the use of such language is prudent or necessary so in place of the written words I will be using old 1960s superhero TV show onomatopoeias used to represent violence. So, without further ado, let’s meet our characters:

Peter Pain: Meet Peter. This man’s anatomical framework contains more inked on art than the Sistine Chapel and his breakfast each morning consists of nails, bolts and the hopes and dreams of today’s youth. But for some reason, getting hit by a tiny ball of paint sends him into an absolute fit of rage

“Holy CRASH! What the BOFF! Oh wow, that smarts!”

Bruce Banter – After you clearly see one of your paintballs make contact with and break on his shirt, this guy proceeds to jump behind a bunker and do more wiping than Kate Gosselin. I mean, this guy is a walking freakin’ Paintball Rulebook. Although you can’t help but notice that, much like the stairwells within the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, these rules seems to change as to whether the outcome would benefit you or him. Be warned, if he gets all green and veiny and his clothes start to rip, just walk away to diffuse the situation. Take comfort in knowing that you can legally shoot him as much as you want later on.

“You missed me! You BOOPin’ missed me! And that shot was from 9½ feet away, not ten you piece of WACK. No, I didn’t wipe that THWACK, it smeared off a bunker!”

Christina Agrolera – She’s one of those annoying short chicks who feels the need to make up for what she lacks in the vertical sense with a gross verbal overcompensation. With her constant cursing and blatant burping, she has everyone but her doctor convinced that she is indeed one of the guys. Vegas odds makers have it at 1:1 that she will one day become a fighter in the UFC. But boy is she pissed because some scrawny white kid in a Detroit Red Wings hoodie seems content with using one of the outermost bunkers as a way to keep tabs on the line at the snack shack rather than use it to flank the opponent

“Move your BIFF! What the KA-DOOJ are you looking at anyway? We’ve got POW to accomplish here, bro!”

Happy Killmore: You get into a shootout with this guy, who, unbeknownst to the paintball place staff, has a gun that’s being powered by the engine from Delta flight 824 to Carson City. You yell to him that you’ve been hit, but he can’t her you, cuz he’s too busy shooting you!   

“I got you, you little THWACKer! Take that all up in your CRACK! You think you can handle this KABOOM!”

 So there you have it folks!! If you ever get annoyed with the editing or sick of the censorship just head on down to your local paintball fields, where there’s more swearing per capita than anywhere in the world!

The Nerds and the Bees

Today, at my part-time job I had to put in my 2 weeks notice because I got offered a full-time job. And after 3 years of studying the Ancient Egyptian art of persuasion known as.....you know what? I'm actually just kind of a people person and we had a nice discussion and using my boyish/young manish charm I got them laughing a bit. After that, I was talking to one of my co-workers who circled the "F" when the employee application question that asks what gender you are. At the conclusion of our dialogue I was given a secret code of 7 numbers. So I added the numbers up, then divided them by 2 and the latitude and longitude coordinates came out to that of Kumasi, Ghana. Not really sure what I'm supposed to do with that. She said "call me sometime." So tomorrow at 2:43 a.m, I'm going to tell her she needs to be more specific

Seven Ways To Avoid Having A Girlfriend

I recently heard from a friend of mine that I used to go to school with that she had tried to set me up with one of her friends, but I ended up leaving the school and her friend decided to become a nun….yeah, so that didn’t work out at all. Ladies, I’m sick of the whole “Sorry, I’m becoming a nun” excuse. That’s right up there with “My dog ate my ability to be in a committed relationship.” A list soon followed from the girls entitled “Ways to avoid liking guys” Now, I can admit that I’m a sucker for a good, sarcastic nonsensical list, so here it is:
                                 
Seven Ways To Avoid Having A Girlfriend
 
1. Assume every girl you talk to has a vascular boyfriend that could break you in half for so much as thinking about looking in her general direction
2. When having a conversation with a girl, reference American Civil War facts as often as possible 
Girl: "Like, Oh my gosh! This purse cost me like $5,000!"
Me: "5,000 huh? Do you know that that number is equivalent to less than 10% of the total casualties that resulted from the three days of fighting at Gettysburg?"
 3. Become a priest
4. Make a really odd lists filled with sarcastic comments and post them in a public place, this will lead her to believe you can’t be taken seriously
5. Word questions that are supposed to be positively observant like “Is that a new haircut?” in an overtly negative way such as  “What happened to your head?”
6. If a story she is telling is dragging on, put on your best deep sportscaster voice and say “OOOONNNEEE MINUTE REMAINING IN THE STORY!”
7. Drive a 1997 Honda CRV which, given the combination of its age and your lack of mechanical skills, has essentially turned into a Mobile House of Horrors in both the rickety noises it makes at every turn or incline and the occasional screaming girl inside
8. Mislead her by stating something, whether it be at the beginning of a relationship or the top of a page, to set seemingly clear expectations at first, but then totally don’t stick to that, this will undermine your sense of reliability in her mind

Enjoy your microwavable pizza and Braveheart/Saving Private Ryan double-feature!

America's Past Time

Lately, in baseball there have been more injuries to fans than players

Beating the crap out of people who did nothing to deserve it

Sounds about right.

Won't You Be My Neighbor

Today, I had my first neighborly conflict in my new place. For me, it was a day recognized in the work world as something called a Day Off. This means I had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed before 9 a.m. Unfortunately, promptly at 5:45 this morning, right outside my window, Foghorn Leghorn up in the trees decided to start singing Miley Cyrus (Though I don't speak bird, I can only assume because the two sounded so similar) I groggily stumbled into the kitchen, reached into the fridge and pulled out the packages of chicken and turkey and placed them on the windowsill. I think he got the point because he immediately fell silent

If I Ask A Girl To Dance

If I ask a girl to dance, the worst thing she can say is no, right? While serving out my 12 year mandated sentence in the Pelham Public School system, this was by and large the only thing I learned that stuck with me despite my biology teachers’ insistence that in order to be taken seriously as an adult, one must have a basic knowledge of Sickle Cell Anemia, or the compelling arguments made in the Real Life Application section of my math book which stated that Pythagorean’s Theorem is used daily by  ghost hunters of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in order to keep tabs on which bar the immortally inebriated ghost of General J.E.B Stewart has stumbled into. However, much like the 14^th century thinking that the Earth’s surface was flat, or the outlandish idea that Batman could hold his own in a fight against Superman, or the absolutely ludicrous notion that Edward was better suited for Bella than Jacob, the statement that I opened with, which for me had bordered on becoming Scientific Law, is a lie!

December 31, 2014: My family had been invited to my sisters’ boyfriends’ New Year’s Eve party and I was granted permission to tag along. Using context clues and your recollection of how many times your high school varsity quarterback began one of his Monday morning “I had an epic weekend” party tales with the phrase “granted permission to tag along” you can pretty much get a ballpark figure of how many high school parties I was willingly invited to. But by some Channing Tatum-like demonic possession I was somehow able to walk up to a female and string together a consonant and vowel combination that was, dare I say it, cool.  

It very well may have been winning my class’s 5th grade geography bee or perhaps it was making it onto the varsity Cross Country team my freshman year, but I had developed this carefree, ignorant attitude masquerading itself as confidence and thought “If I ask this girl to dance, what’s the worst that could happen?” We, as humans are only capable of using roughly 10% of our brains’ potential which means that, scientifically speaking, I was 90% more screwed than I could have possibly realized.

Her next decision, in all likelihood may have been the result of an excessive consumption of Bad Decision Juice, or possibly she had a few more high school community service hours to complete from several years ago, but I, Mark Woonton, was led on to the dancefloor by a 20-something year old Spanish girl.

Allow me to share with you my ethnic background. I am 50% Irish, 50% English and 100% certain of three things in this lifetime:

1.       My ancestors were some of the most horrible, awful and close-minded people in human history

2.       I don’t belong in direct sunlight for a moment longer than 2.5 seconds

3.       I must not come within a five mile radius of any dance floor anywhere at any time

Unfortunately, prior to this no one had bothered to tell me that most Latin songs have prearranged steps which are more numerous than those on an ancient Mayan temple.  So, she began to engage in an activity rhythmically and visually recognizable as the skill of dancing. I say skill, because I, on the other hand, had turned into an epileptic baby deer on ice skates.    

She looked at me and said “Are you alright?” But she didn’t say it like this was her first time seeing me after my grandmother had died. No, she said like the top of my head had just spontaneously burst into flames. After that, her voice took on a sound easily recognizable to any parent as Learning Curve Tone. LCT is used in an instance where you’re trying to explain something such as tying shoes or zipping up a jacket to your child a number of times not capable of being represented on a calculator and in order to compensate for your frustration of being solely responsible for bringing such a stupid little human being into this world and wanting to sound like Gandalf yelling at the Balrog on the bridge of Khazad Dum (“Child! Crawl back in to the warm, dark chasm from whence you came!”) But instead, you end up going up about ten octaves in tone and sound like a Furby in the soprano section. And standing in front of me on the dance floor I now had a Tony Robbins action figure complete with three motivational phrases: “Great!” Good job!” “There you go!”   

I very quickly sank into a positive self-talk, rehabilitating inner monologue “OK Mark, this isn’t exactly going how you had planned, but it’s going to be alright. Do you know why? Because you are calm and confident in who you are. Speaking is something that you do very well, so just think of something to say to smooth over the situation. Maybe try saying Thank you for the dance. Thank you for the dance? What is this the Royal Ball of 1704? No don’t say that!” But luckily, I had been so lost in my anxious thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the song was ending. The second the last note was hit she said “Ummm, I’m going to go check and make sure we have enough ice upstairs.” The lack of conviction in her voice coupled with absolutely zero direct eye contact told me that her and I had just entered into an evolved, adult version of the old “I think I hear my mom calling me for dinner” that I used on the neighbor kid who wouldn’t leave me alone in elementary school. And now, ladies and gentlemen, I live my life by the credo of Detroit singer, songwriter and my personal philosopher, Bob Seger “Don’t bother taking me to the disco, you’ll never even get me out on the floor!”

Bachelor's Duplex Directory

Diversity is a beautiful. From soda on the east coast being referred to as pop in the Midwest or a meal of mashed potatoes and sausage served in England being called Bangers and Mash. It truly is fascinating how each culture puts a spin on something to make it their own.  However, I am also aware that travel can be stressful enough let alone having to remember all of the different rules of social etiquette and foreign terminology.  

I just bought my first place and quickly realized that rooms I thought I had learned the names of as a child differ as I entered into Single adulthood. And with several days of experience, a still standing duplex and an overly self-stroked ego, I now consider myself the Muzzy The bilingual beast creature of Bachelor Living terminology and would now like to pass on what I’ve learned. I know that re-teaching yourself the names of rooms you thought you were familiar with may seem trying at first, but I promise that much like readjusting to driving in the States after a vacation in Europe or remembering the mandated One Finger Wave when traveling on the roadways of Boston and New York, with knowledge and repetition the use of these names will become second nature and allow you to communicate clearly and effectively to your bachelor friends. And as any of the members of society in The Giver will tell you, precision of language is a very important thing. So let’s begin:

Bathroom: Museum of Not So Fine Smells Odor Exhibit, Axe Body Spray Chamber

Kitchen: Salmonella Breeding Lab, Trans-Siberian Orchestra Preshow Pyrotechnics Test Site

Bedroom: Unexpected Guest Arrival Useless Junk Storage Unit, Mt. Laundry Treacherous Trek

Garage: Tenants Territorial Gaza Strip War Zone, 1997 Honda CRV Unfit To Be On the Road Weapon of Mass Destruction Holding Hangar

Family Room: Lonely Room, ESPN Observatory  

 

Well, any of my exes will tell you I’m not great at ending things, so good luck and happy traveling!

Hit Me Baby One More Time

I am unfortunately the kind of person who has been cursed to have an onion-like effect on the eyes of an infant the second anyone has invited me to hold their baby.

Over the Fourth of July weekend, while I was at a BBQ, a family introduced me to their little boy whom they had just adopted from Latvia. Without hesitation, he climbed up onto my lap, turned his head and gave me a Gerber baby cute smile. I remained absolutely motionless, as if watching a pelican in its natural habitat while on a trip through the Everglades.

My dreams of future fatherhood were quickly dashed as he farted, laughed hysterically and ran away

Wrong Number 2: The Second Circle of Hell

Some of you may remember a while back I posted a story about receiving a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize, but I answered the call anyway. The person on the other end was looking for someone not likely belonging to the same ethnicity, generation or gender as myself. I hung up and moments later received a second call from that same number. (If this synopsis was not eloquent enough for you, please consult my earlier post entitled Wrong Number and perhaps that will be more to your liking) I thought that this was the most awkward phone conversation one could possibly have.

I was wrong.

No less than one hour ago, I received a phone call from a collection of numbers not symmetrical to any of the numerical patterns already in my contact list (by the way, the moral of this story comes now, if you are not in my contact list, I’m not picking up) but I pick up and say “Hello.” Without pause, in return I get an enthusiastic and sweet “Hey baby!” I am not in a relationship, nor am I a tech savvy infant so although it pained me to hang up on someone who was clearly a sweet and loving woman, I said “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.” (P.S. when did referring to your significant other in the same likeness as a small child become endearing?? I hope to one day understand….Anyway….oh yeah, end parenthesis!) She hangs up and not moments later I get a call from the same number. I rationally decide to let it go to voicemail where she will hear a message in which MY voice states MY name, my current status of unavailability and a brief apology that if, after restating my name clearly and eloquently, I am not in fact who you are looking for, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. No voicemail. Good! Five seconds pass, I’m in the cl……Dangit! My ringtone is one of those random, preset, really happy sounding jingles that’s really deceiving when you know you’re either A.) Going to argue with the person on the other end or B.) Getting called by a complete stranger for the third time in ninety seconds. It occurs to me that this may very well be Matthew Mcconaugheys’ wife (Lord knows this wouldn’t be the first time our phone voices got misconstrued…..must be so awkward for him!)

Now, growing up in the Woonton household, we had a rule (Bahahaha……A rule) No cell phone use after 9:30! On any given evening at 9:29 and 50 seconds my mother would be at my door giving me a countdown. However, this rule, much like touching the top of a beautifully lit stove or fitting a fork oh so snuggly into the electrical outlet, I had to find out the adverse effects of breaking for myself. I could still hear her sharp yet somehow sweet voice in my head. I was jolted from this reminiscent daydream by the sound of my phone.

 Well mom, you were right yet again! She had clearly done what she did in order to keep me away from crazy clingy women like this.

I choked back tears as I glared up at the clock realizing that I had only 7 ½ hours until I had to be up at 5 the next morning for work. With a shaky hand I placed the phone against my ear and in an absolutely grief-stricken voice pleaded with the woman on the other end “Please! Just let me go to sleep! But do me a favor, will you? When you do get in touch with your husband, tell him that I said if he EVER needs anything, a place to stay, a friend to talk to, a new cell phone provider, I PROMISE to be there for him. Here, let me give you my number……”  

On This Date In History

Celebrating a dating anniversary is kind of like winning a Triple A baseball championship. A handful of people hear about it and pretend to be happy for you for twelve seconds, but deep down everyone knows that so long as you continue to work hard, the difficult and most stressful times are still in front of you

Date Night, Cutlery and You

Hi, my name is Marcus WellIllBeDarnedSheActuallySaidYes. If there are two areas of study in this world that I have acquired a great wealth of knowledge that I now feel obliged to pass on to my fellow man, it is Digimon cards and dating.

We haven’t much time and I have far more important things to discuss, but I’d like to quickly dispel the fallacy of the two biggest concerns on date night, clothing and hygiene. Does your wardrobe consist exclusively of outfits worn onstage by Lady Gaga during her most recent world tour? No? Good. Then just use your best judgment. Moving on. Are you familiar with the grammatical and physical application of words like soap, shampoo, deodorant and baby powder? Good. Are you not an Australian rugby player who sweats by the gallon? Of course you’re not! Australian men have no need for this advice! They have built-in, the most potent anatomical aphrodisiac of all-time, an Australian accent. According to an article I strongly believe should be on WebMD, the almost magically hypnotic sound of the male Australian accent is the leading contributor to weakness in the knees of 99% of women. The only ones immune to the Australian mans’ charm are the miniscule population of elderly females who are hard of hearing:

Now, when life on Earth first began, the menu consisted of one thing, Wooly Mammoth. After a while, the commonality of this rendered the age-old question of “What’s for dinner?” pretty much useless and human communication disintegrated to your basic frustrated grunt and growl sounds. After some time,   place settings grew to consist of a single fork, knife and spoon. But thanks to the ever-increasing gluttonous nature of this country of ours, made apparent by the Big Gulp, the All You Can Eat Buffet and the Cheeseburger pizza, when you take a seat at almost any eatery, you are now greeted on either side by an armory of silverware. This is the leading cause of stress and anxiety that already accompany the customary first date jitters. I am going to walk you through piece by piece, the purpose and proper use of each utensil. 

The first fork on your left was used by King Triton to try to get Ariel to cover up before she went out for the night. But because parents nowadays are so weak in their stance, within a few minutes he hands the fork to her and she uses it later on to comb her hair at the dinner table for some reason. But let’s cut her some slack because she did change into a different species and teach  herself to walk in a matter of 92 minutes and quite frankly, I saw far worse behavior from members of the varsity football team at the dinner during my prom and these fellas have supposedly been human their whole lives.

The next fork on the same side allows you the option to stab away the hand of an overly anxious waiter who fails to acknowledge your existence for the half hour following your initial meal selection, but is readily hovering over you as you’re still picking at scraps.

If there is a third fork, please notify your waiter or waitresses immediately as this is exclusively to be used by Tom Hanks to catch fish in order to survive after his plane crash-lands on a deserted island

The first big circular spoon on the right is used to dig yourself out of the conversational crater that is The First Date Awkward Silence. If there is a moment where you’re both staring into each other’s eyes that doesn’t involve the dreamy telepathic planning of your future wedding just do what I do, ask her what she thinks of jelly beans.  

The spoon parallel to the first allows you the option to catapult peas, partially chewed meat, scalding hot water or whatever you desire at the Pre-K Pavarotti three tables over who feels as though he’s matured well beyond the confines of the high security high chair where he is being held against his will. And he has quite logically chosen to communicate this discovery by screaming his head off.

The knife on your right is to be used as a pointer when talking about the various interesting newspaper articles or paintings on the restaurant walls. This knife is specifically for people who use their hands a lot when they talk in order to make the people around them feel as though there is just one heated recollection and passionate retelling of the argument with mom separating them from death.

Next to that there is a slightly smaller knife that you probably thought was used to spread butter. Wrong. This knife is for male use only and is essentially a first date safety net in case you accidently nick yourself a bit while shaving. Here’s what you do in order to recover from this first date folly: Pick up the knife and because the young lady sitting across from you has probably been sketched out from the get-go, simply stare somewhat psychotically into her eyes for a brief moment and then alternate your gaze between her and the knife and then say “You look nervous. Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?  

And listen, with regards to the drinking glass, when your trying to get every last drop, maneuvering between the ice cubes like some kind of thirst-driven game of tetras, you’re not a person saving money, you’re a rude and you sound like a broken humidifier, OK?  

Well, here she comes, good luck champ! I know what you’re thinking, but Marcus, we haven’t even talked about how to conduct myself or what to say to her all night. All we’ve talked about is the apparently mythological origins of the forks at Chili’s. Yes, and there’s good reason for that. Look at her. Now, look at yourself. You see, this is what we in high society refer to as a pity date. I mean, you made HER pick YOU up for Pete’s sake! She feels bad so she’s selflessly agreed to subject herself to the judgment of being seen out in public with you this one time. Your only hope with a young woman like this is to ask intellectual, thought-provoking questions like “If a florist works with flowers, what do you call the guy who put in the linoleum down in your kitchen? Now, if you don’t mind, while writing this script I’ve spent the past few days off of Facebook, not answering my phone, in my room with the lights off making sure I don’t subject myself to figuring out what happens in the Game Of Thrones season finale before I get the chance to watch it. I hear it’s to die for………….HA!

A Sure Sign I'm Getting Old

A sure sign that I am getting old is the fact that, in the morning, I now prefer talk radio to music. While I’d like to believe that this newly developed preference is simply because I want to stay abreast of what’s going on in the world around me, I have also come to the sad realization that a key element factoring in to my decision is people like Jason Derulo are able to have studio sessions where, based on the finished product, I can only assume they have an overly tired big rig truck driver repetitiously back up over their foot just as they open their mouths and make noises. This is then recorded and advertised to the world as music and for reasons unknown to me, is absolutely eaten up by the general public. 

Morning radio also oftentimes has an entertainment segment to keep us up to date on the most current struggles and hardships that have befallen the poor dear celebrities of today. For example, I recently heard a story that while on a hike, Taylor Swift had to walk down a mountain backwards in an effort to avoid getting her picture taken with some giddy passerby. Forget ticket sales, I think the new measuring stick for whether you’ve “made it” or not is that your perspective of leisure activities is forcibly and totally altered. I love writing, but speaking as someone who was born without and will never have depth perception a day in his life, if my writing ever hit Nicholas Sparks status and I had to start walking down mountains backwards, I’m out!

One particular morning, conversation on the radio centered on the history and recent eradication of was once known as the corporate lunch hour. This was the name given to a sixty minute period of time in which coworkers would assist each other in jimmying off their ankle bracelets, leave their places of employment and venture out to see the sights, sounds and general sense of spaciousness that the outside world had to offer. A group would head over to their favorite eatery making small talk with the very person they had been badmouthing to someone in the break room over by the coffeemaker not five minutes prior. However, in todays’ productivity driven world, this sacred time has metamorphosed itself into what is now a twelve second window of opportunity in which employees are encouraged to back away from their computers and ingest a corporate supplied pipette full of krill that has been pre-chewed by a penguin and then return to work.

One huge exception in my partiality to talk radio over music: David Allen Boucher on Bedtime Magic. If you haven’t taken the proper precautions by either A.) Sleeping for 20 hours beforehand to ensure that you are well rested or B.) Drinking twelve Red Bulls, nine Rockstar energy drinks and three cans of amp, I promise you that the smooth sexiness that results from David Allen Boucher vibrating his vocal chords, you will be absolutely soothed out of your mind and put to sleep quicker than a UFC fighter in a guillotine choke as your vehicle goes careening into a guardrail. And just to be clear, this isn’t meant to be anti-Magic 106.7 as much as it is pro-you staying alive. Because you have now been informed of this, if it were to occur, it would be entirely on your shoulders (and neck and back and possibly dashboard) as someone who knew the facts but went ahead and did what they wanted anyway. You know what that means? It means Barry Feinstein can’t help you because he only helps people who are injured through no fault of their own. If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my 22 years on this green land havin’, blue water flowin’ and Arianna Grande inhabited land mass of ours it is this, if a man who concludes his commercials with a Mr. Clean style folded arms pose and a stern look which simultaneously conveys “Don’t worry, I gotchu” and “Don’t EVER mess with me!” can’t do anything to help you, you’re screwed…….What were we talking about again……  

Courtship: Then And Now

Technology has caused a lot of problems. It’s mad warfare more catastrophic, it’s caused face to face conversation to become a lost art and its opened a lot of doors for faulty info to get out. However, it also has made it much easier to answer the fundamental question on every guys mind while he’s talking to a girl, is she single? And I think that almost any guy would be willing to become a tour guide that leads Mexicans into the United States in exchange for that information. Nowadays, you meet a girl, “Your name is Hermione Granger.” Go home, shoot Hermione a friend request on facebook and be like “Ok, ok let’s see…..It’s Complicated with Brutus I’llkickyourbuttis Ifyoutalktothisgirlagainis, ok nope. Back in the day (and by that I mean pre-facebook) you had to try to pry that information out of them by asking them 50,000 questions, each one getting more direct than the last. “So, do you have any pets? You do, you have a bird, how nice. Any reptiles in your house? No reptiles ever since your brother threw a rubber toy snake in the shower when you were seven, fascinating. Any fish swimming around at your house? Your dad has a talking bass on the wall? No kidding! So…..um, any mammals crawling, hopping or I don’t know ummm….walking around in your life? And after listening to 237 stories about this girls’ inability to keep 14 fish, 2 dogs and a male lizard she named Lizzie because she thought it was female alive, guys finally snap. LISTEN! ARE YOU SINGLE OR NOT??!! THAT’S ALL I WANNA KNOW! AND THAT’S ALL THAT THE 46 GUYS THAT TALKED TO YOU BEFORE ME WANTED TO KNOW! BUT YA KNOW WHAT??? YOU’RE GONNA END UP ALONE CUZ YOU JUST RAMBLE ON ABOUT YOUR CATS, YOUR DOGS, THAT FLIPPING MONKEY THAT YOU HAVE THAT’S INDIGENOUS TO MADAGASCAR! I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO BE INDIRECT ALL NIGHT, BUT I AM GOING TO BE DIRECT NOW, I AM GOING TO FINISH MY STEAK, WHICH I HOPE USED TO BE ONE OF YOUR PETS BY THE WAY, AND I AM GOING TO STAB THIS STEAK KNIFE DIRECTLY INTO MY EAR!!!

Chivalry is Dead.......And So Am I

I hate the dudes in movies that are like "Babe, I'll never let anything happen to you." Cuz either the girl or the guy always end up dying. So I make it a point to be truthful and realistic with my date. Here are a few things you can expect Mark Woonton to say during or after a date:
1. "I just wanted to let you know in case we get mugged in this Chilis parking lot at 2 p.m. in this bad area of New Hampshire, when I was in high school I ran a 5:36 mile so you better be at 5:35 or under if you expect me to keep an eye on you during the getaway."
2. "So um, not to address the elephant in the room, but how long have you had a moustache? Oh, don't cry. Its cute. You kind of look like Gimli from Lord Of The Rings, no one will bother us now."
3. "I'm sorry, but that man with the gun in the ski mask is going to have to take your purse. I have a 3 nice things per date limit. And as I recall I held the door, pulled out your chair for you and paid for the whole shabang. Plus, it took a lot of courage for this man to come out here wearing a ski mask in May, he deserves the purse." 4. (at the end of the meal when she goes to say bye) "You had the fish for dinner, right? And two pieces of garlic bread? I'm going to have to take a rain check on the goodnight kiss." 5. (I'm holding a stop watch) "Annnddd time, yeah it's been 5 minutes so that's enough of that Dance Moms stuff. So anyway, my fantasy football team has a tough week coming up...." Now that all of that's out in the open, any ladies available for lunch this week?"

Wasp War One

I haven’t gotten stung by a wasp since I was like 6 when I was playing with a toy gorilla in my family room and since I had no other weapon, I smashed the wasp with the toy gorilla. But yesterday morning I was taking out my trash and I noticed a wasp, I kept an eye on him (or her. Yeah, I’m pretty sure the wasp was a she cuz I could faintly hear the wasp buzzing along to Love Story) as I threw out my trash. But little did I know, the wasp must have been rehearsing this maneuver for months because this was just a decoy wasp, while I kept my eye on that wasp, a second wasp in the dumpster began constructing a large wooden horse and climbed up insi…...sorry, wrong story. Anyway, the second wasp executed a stealthy barrel roll (at least that’s what I imagined it doing) and flew right into my shirt. It remained still there due to my (optimist) glorious six pack (pessimist) odor of not showering in two days. So right as I crossed into my room I felt a sensation that was as close to pain as someone such as myself who doesn’t feel pain could feel in my upper chest. I grabbed at my shirt and the wasp flew out onto my desk. Sadly, I did not have a large toy gorilla. But I did have an insanely large Philosophy textbook. And by the power vested in myself, Aristotle, Plato and Confucius, ended the wasps’ life. And because I got so caught up in the moment I glared angrily at the wasps’ dead body and yelled “FREEEEEEDOM!” Which in hindsight, made no sense at all given my particular set of circumstances. Let this be a message to all wasps that you have woken a sleeping giant. Prepare to have the fight brought to your dumpsterstep.

Parmesan Cheese

Well, back from the Cayman Islands. Among the items to come back with us were some shells, a few souvenir T-shirts and several unused food items. Among these remaining food stuffs is a bottle of parmesan cheese. Now, to say that this is just a bottle of parmesan cheese is to say that a sumo wrestler is a regulation sized man. I know this to be true for several reasons:

1.       Following the serving size in the bottom left hand corner of the label, there are four exclamation points

2.       At the conclusion of this weeks’ address to the nation, which centered on the importance of childhood education, Obama also stated that if anything should happen to the torch held by the Statue of Liberty on Ellis Island, this particular bottle of parmesan cheese would serve as a viable replacement  

3.       On the bottle where it says Ingredients, instead of listing out the contents, it’s just a paragraph about how the food company put this together as a joke and that you, as a supposedly conscious consumer, should strongly reevaluate the difference between “needs” and “wants” in your life

My family has implemented the following strategy in an attempt to deplete the excessive amount of parmesan cheese we now possess

Breakfast: Cereal and milk topped with parmesan cheese

Lunch: Peanut Butter & Jelly and parmesan cheese sandwich (I’m looking for suggests as to what to call this creation because my thoughts are that there will be great confusion and concern as to the ingredients of a PCPB & J sandwich)

Dinner:  Pasta with meatballs and parmesan cheese

Dessert: Ice cream topped with parmesan cheese

Another thought that I’ve had is to do a Flat Stanley sort of thing, get this bottle traveling around the world and have people journal about their experiences with it:

“Here’s Parchy and I at Niagara Falls”

“Here’s Parchy and I trekking through the Amazon”

“Here’s Parchy and I being detained in Venice because apparently they get super uptight about people bringing in outside parmesan cheese”

Anyway, if this sounds like something you’d like to get in on, please email me what role parmesan cheese has played in your life along with your credit card information, Social Security number and I’d really appreciate an attached video of the Butt Fumble, and we can get this thing going

Wrong Number

When you get a call from a number you don't recognize, but you pick up anyway and the person on the other end is like "Hello, is this (insert name not commonly associated with the ethnicity, generation or gender you belong to) and you're like "no" and they apologize because apparently the person they are trying to get in contact with is just the coolest kid on the block and they feel sorry for the fact that you don't happen to be this awesome individual. So you hang up and 5 seconds later your phone rings again showing an incoming call......from the same number

If anyone has a quick French tutorial for dummies, I have to be Elisa, the spoiled rich exchange student from Limoges and heiress to the French Fry fortune in two minutes and tell this guy off

Angry Angry Violent Turtle

Yesterday morning while on my run i noticed a turtle standing still right in the middle of the road, i picked little Leonardo up and walked toward the side of the road.Just then i heard the voice of an old man come out of the turtle shouting "NO! NO! PUT ME DOWN, I WANNA DO IT! IT'S TOO HOT AND THIS SHELL IS TOO HEAVY! (I may have cleaned up his language a little bit) I brought him over to the side of the road and ran several strides away and turned in hopes to catch a glimpse of him majestically retreating to his habitat only to see him back in the center of the road angrily staring down the approaching SUV as he mumbled "c'mon hit me! Do it!" Please be praying for the turtles as they struggle through this tough time of year

Happy Valentines Day, Mate

Being single on Valentines Day is kinda like being British on the 4th of July cuz you know you're missing out on something somewhere but it doesn't matter because you know you have a classier, sexier voice than everyone else

Super Game, Even Spectacular Commercial

Super Bowl Sunday: The only day of the year when you "hold it" during the commercials and wait until the games back on to go to the bathroom

Now That’s What I DON’T Call Music 2015

 

During the 18^th and 19^th centuries, the Classical period of music had taken hold of much of Europe and was considered to be an art form for the sophisticated and intellectual. The music itself had the power to provoke emotion within each individual audience member. They did this largely through intricate instrumental pieces that made someone feel any emotion from joy to sorrow or peace to fear. Nowadays, I often shut off the radio in a similar mental state that I had following the 85^th time that I saw the movie Inception (“What in the name of Engelbert Humperdinck was that??!!”) During performances in the Classical Period, audience members sat quietly and attentive until it was time to applaud. Maybe it was because back then the drinking age was like 2 ½ years old so by the time one possessed the coordination and endurance to stand and sit for several hours as events such as concerts demanded, they could put away a 24 pack by themselves with little to no fuss. In todays highly restricted, babysitters in the house and nets around trampolines society, alcoholics are only allowed to gather together once every couple of months at events called Country Concerts. I personally wish nothing but continued success for artists such as Luke Bryan and Jason Aldean in the hopes that this issue will eventually be self -correcting as high concentrations of people with highly concentrated levels of alcohol in their bloodstream who are highly unable to concentrate will eventually eat away at their own numbers one stadium parking lot-ful at a time.

Given the success of the Now That’s What I Call Music series, I have taken it upon myself to put together what I’m going to safely assume is the first ever Now That’s What I Don’t Call Music CD Set. Songs to make this list have to meet the criteria of either being socially inappropriate to the point where I can’t believe they were allowed on the radio or songs with such a repetitive nature, they are rivaled in their lyrical complexity only by the naming of the traffic sign which instructs drivers to stop.

If you are someone who is personally a fan of one or more of these songs, please bear in mind that this list comes from someone who, up until about a year and a half ago, thought that the Blue Man Group was one group of guys traveling around. So again, this is just my opinion and I would strongly encourage anyone who hasn’t heard any of these songs to take a listen in order to formulate your own opinion (though I would not recommend doing so in close proximity to any loaded firearms or steep cliffs) And if you are one of the artists mentioned in the list, before you get too upset, consider the fact that you are reading some lowly, largely unheard of blog instead of spending your time looking to book a show at Madison Square Garden. So I simply ask that instead of getting angry, you first reevaluate what you mean when you tell people that you’ve “made it.” And at the end of the day, I am keenly aware of the fact that my net worth is roughly .0000000000000001% of most of the artists on this list so the core emotion behind this collection may very well be jealousy. So here it is, the playlist of a mishmash of instrument banging and vocal cord vibrations that makes my elementary school classes’ rendition of the Pledge of Allegiance sound like angelic hosts and whose lyrical flow and creativity make my 4^th grade presentation on the digestive system (in which I giggled while saying "anus" and just giggled again while writing it 12 years of maturing later) look like a Doctoral Thesis:

1.  Pharrell Williams – Happy

2.  OutKast – Hey Ya

3.  Fountains Of Wayne – Stacy’s Mom

4.  Meghan Trainor – All About That Bass

5.  Fetty Wap - 679

6.  Katy Perry – I Kissed A Girl

7.  Icona Pop – I Love It

8. ACDC – Big Balls

9. Aerosmith – Big Ten Inch

10.  Flo Rida – Whistle

11.  Katy Perry – Peacock

12.  J-Kwon – Tipsy

13.  Jason Derulo – Trumpets

14.  Miley Cyrus – Wrecking Ball

15.  Miley Cyrus – Party In The USA

16.  Miley Cyrus – We Can’t Stop (Making Crappy Music)

17.  Linkin Park – One Step Closer

18.  John Mayer – Say

19.  Sia – Chandelier

20.  Trey Songz & Chris Brown  – Club Going Up On A Tuesday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1/1/20.....something

And so begins that 2 week period where anytime im writing the date, I have to erase and rewrite the year