Got a new used car. Not my photo.

I’m being paid way too much for an English major who just barely passed school. 

——-

I had the realization that one of the best weeks of my life will probably never be topped. Real, working life doesn’t stir the pot like college does, or will. A colleague commented on the concept: “That’s poor fun, and you’ve had a lot of it. Now you can have rich fun.”

Once you get over how initially shallow that sounds, your perception opens up to consumerism. All the stupid shit you’ve seen people create & sell makes sense now.     People buy, and they buy hard.

You know that trope used in way too many Disney and RomComs? The one where the main character is materially well-off, but is missing that intangible thing in their life? It’s pretty real I think. 

23:43 pm  •   May 10

migrating to stalepants.wordpress.com 

thanks!

0:26 am  •   March 19

This is what really trips me up right here. I’m trying my hardest to keep my nose close to the daily 40-hour grind, trying very hard to enjoy what I’m doing (online advertising), and planning on where I’m going. But damn, it’s very easy when my mind is wondering, sitting in my gray cubicle, to self-images of me on stage, performing. I never really know what I’m doing, all I know is I’m up there, and I’m smiling. People are smiling. 

I think, “Shit”. I wish what I wanted to do wasn’t such a stupid pitfall. Being in entertainment, a comedian, that is. It claims thousands of lives every year - broken dreams, 401k’s never started, and lovers moved on for someone “established”. It’s a large fear of mine.

I always thought people trying to make it as actors were absolute dumbasses, eating up the force-fed, over-produced Hollywood dream. I still believe that to an extent, but as I’m working full-time, my thoughts are changing. 40 hours a week is pretty long, but when you’re unfulfilled, it doesn’t matter. Everything’s going to be dull anyway. 

I’m painting a pretty dualist picture here, and I should probably apologize for the melodrama. But I’m not. Fuck you - writing, like life, should be drastic. Each sentence should be harrowing. Each decision important. I’m happy that I’ve found writing as an outlet I turn to. It’s good practice. 

Good luck, all, to your future endeavors! 

0:14 am  •   March 19  •  1 note

Everyone rebels against their parents in some form and some degree. It’s normal. The ones you really want to watch out for, are the ones that don’t outwardly, like you could watch them all day and night and they just don’t do anything interesting. That’s when you know some real internal shit is going on that they themselves might not even be aware of - the kind of shit that when they snap to consciousness, some children have gone missing and their severed heads turn up in their parent’s mailboxes hermetically sealed in plastic bags complete with a “To” and “From” address. 

So yes, everyone rebels in some way. Some do it to their parents’ faces like, “Fuck you Mom and Dad, my boyfriend’s 22, and he’s so much older than me and he’s got a job at the mall” or like, “Fuck you pops, I’m outta here, college is for dipshits.” Whatever. And then you have some kids who start sneaking out, start smoking pot and doing rails with the richer kids and their families - all incognito style. This is the kind of rebellion that we, the American concept of a family, should probably look out for. (And this also scares the shit out of the future-father I may one day be.) 

Yet I’m still on the fence on this one. Do you congratulate your kid because they’ve been hiding it while still performing so well there were no signs of trouble? Or do you get all touchy-feely and honest with your kid that they turn all faggy and grow up to be a Huffington Post’s reader’s liberal? (HP is ironic, because I directly work for that company and make them money.)

I can only hope that my kid will show me his tattoo before he shows his friend. 

——-

On a sidenote: Does anyone actually read the Huffington Post everyday? If you do, why? This is a rhetorical why, as it leads to my next statement which is: Die in a fire. 

1:01 am  •   February 24  •  1 note

most diverse sausage fest ever

23:32 pm  •   January 29

How would you go about getting to know Aubrey Plaza?

Not so simple I’ll tell you. She got that backdafuqup look on her face, and she’s laconic as fuck. Half the time you don’t know if she’s making fun of you. Very relevant to me right now. Also relevant? The bulge in my pants. Dat “bitchface” is pretty hot. 

0:14 am  •   January 19

“I don’t want to go out with someone who’s wearing stale pants.”

And thus: stalepants.blogspot.com

There’s no content on there..yet

23:52 pm  •   January 16  •  1 note

Virginia Woolf is a boass

19:49 pm  •   January 10

i have this coworker donny who is my boy. but i do not wish to be like him.

here’s why i really like donny:

he does not give a single fuck about work. 

it’s a sight to see.

you know those people who just resign to themselves and say, “this is just a job”, and “i’ve been here too long”? this is that guy. 

he has his own company.

i’m working with him to start a social experiment (info on that coming as soon as i can write it).

everyday he’s pushing new ideas and doing things about it. 

——-

here’s why i don’t want to be like donny:

i don’t want to be 30 years old saying “this is just a job” and “i’ve been here too long” - just starting to chase something awesome

——-

that’s basically it

can we start the circlejerk where we bukkake all over (and subsequently blind) our dreams?  

23:16 pm  •   January 5

i’ve always thought pictures of people while pooping are unequivocally hilarious. drunk, eating, smoking, doing whatever while sitting on the can ranks up high on my personal “this guy/girl is hilarious” meter. so one day i thought, “man, how funny would it be to just PRETEND to lay a chocolatey one in public, in front of a great monument.” 

yet it doesn’t have to be in public too! even in a bathroom right by the site is fine. think about all the butts that have graced that toilet. or the amount of people that have been at that very spot from the beginning of time.

man i don’t think i could even GO with all that heavy stuff on my mind. 

it’s as if you got access to president lincoln’s private toilet. never before shat in before lincoln took one to the dome. DO YOU THINK YOU COULD HANDLE THAT?

film idea: a crack group of ocean’s 11-type thieves steal into famous areas… and… wait for it… take a dump there. like queen elizabeth’s private bath! or like qaddafi’s private condaleeza rice magic love den bathroom? 

i’d watch it. 

23:07 pm  •   January 5

yo brooks i know you read this, replying and liking my shit

do your dishes man, said the ex-roommates

——-

also

are you going to london? 

i’m saving for a trip out in may

get at yo boy, get me some of dat fish n chips

take this as an official statement from me

pattyp going abroad in 2012

(yo you think it would be straight with the egyptians if i took a doodoo in front of the great pyramids? this has been a lifelong dream of mine.)

22:59 pm  •   January 5

i really like it when a daydream can actually be achieved. 

picture this shit.

your boy, pattyp. chillin in the cut, right. buzzed head, sunglasses. fresh white t, pressed khakis, and a pair of low cut nike bruins (green). walkin his pug down the boardwalk while all the asian hunnies look on, being all like, “damn that nigga cute as fuck, make me all hot”.

i see this shit transpire right, and i’m, “yeaaah girl, sorry i’m married right?” then i point to my dog and i say “this bitch take up all my time you feel me?” then i laugh to myself in a very self-amused, stupid cocksure manner. 

simple enough right? baller as hell doe. 

word, word. 

also: I havent gone through my very short follower list, but do any of you remember the livejournal days when i REALLY did not give a fuck? is it just you, angelica, that remembers that?

man. i remember those days.

now that im essentially working 9-5, the minutiae is just bringing it out of me again.

that’s kind of where i want to take my next blog. which is why im getting fake emails, etc. 

i am very selective as to who i allow to see this part of me though. and it always ends up with a few good posts, then i start editing them to be all vanilla for a larger audience. And by then? i just lose it and delete the thing. 

DONT LET THIS HAPPEN AGAIN PAT

22:51 pm  •   January 5

you can’t go back from buying and liking nice shit. for example: you can’t pony up for an audi and go back to driving a camry by your own volition. the same logic applies to a lot of life situations.

like having a kid. if you want that kid to be a humble little thing, you give that kid a stick to play with and hope that kid don’t know what a ps3 is anytime soon. 

there’s a reason why they say “once you go black you never go back”. same logic applies. some people move from indians and asians onto whites, and then onto hispanics, europeans, etc, and then finally onto black dudes. then from there good luck going back.

education also works this way. you start with real noob material, and then you work up. pfft, adding? bitch please, try to mess with my trigonometry game. 

i’m having a lot of fun toying with this concept. i encourage you to do the same, and think about the material or other things in your life you’ve graduated and can’t go back to. (like from diapers to shitting on toilets. i’m a genius.)

22:38 pm  •   January 5

do dudes post to blogs?

who reads nowadays, for real

what the fuck is juice

22:30 pm  •   January 5  •  1 note

tumblr sucks dick for blogging with words

yeah, that’s an actual statement you couldn’t get away with saying just a few years ago 

so

if you want to read what i’ve been writing in the interim

(and also to gauge who actually reads this blog)

LIKE THIS POST

i will send all you people who do a link to my new blog

22:24 pm  •   January 5  •  4 notes