I paid to have a rap song rapped in my honor, so every once in awhile I must trot it out for my 3.5 readers.
I paid to have a rap song rapped in my honor, so every once in awhile I must trot it out for my 3.5 readers.
(This video is the best thing I ever got a woman to do for five bucks.)
Hey 3.5 readers.
Five years ago, this blog was conceived when I was crying myself into a cheesy burrito at Taco Bell, upset that I had not yet achieved my dream of becoming a professional writer.
I then realized that blogging technology exists, everyone was doing it, that I was someone and ergo, I should also add my voice into the vapid Internet vacuum.
And so, on that fateful day, this terrible blog was born. Ironically, it wasn’t the worst thing that happened that day. Years later, I would come to realize that when I ate a burrito, I was engaging in highly unwoke cultural appropriation, for I am not a Mexican and therefore have no right to consume Mexican food.
To condense this tomfoolery, I have never forgiven myself for either atrocity – the blog as well as the unwoke food choice.
Worse, I continue to do both to this day, having not learned my lesson. Come to think of it, I’m eating a burrito as I type this right now. Mmm tasty for a minute, but then an hour devoted to cleaning cheese out of my keyboard later. Oh well, nothing good in life ever came easy.
When I first started, this blog was supposed to just be a little hobby. Something to give me an online presence. In the meantime, I was going to work on books and try to query them and then be like, “Hey agent! I have a blog!”
That never bore fruit. Instead, I got hooked on the world of self-publishing. It remains to be seen if that was a good thing to get into or not.
Part of me thinks it is a viable business opportunity if I just remain patient and realize that it is a long game where you have to get maybe 5 or 6 really good books out there before people take notice.
Another part of me thinks life would be so much better if I’d just throw my computer in a dumpster, toss in some gas and a lighted match, set it all ablaze, extinguish it, leave a note of apology to the dumpster company and then spend the time I use for writing on something like, oh, I don’t know, walking on a treadmill and making green smoothies.
I’d say that last option would make my doctor happier but honestly, I don’t think my doctor could pick me out of a lineup.
I’d quit this if I could and there’s a part of me that thinks maybe social media is ruining everything. Sure, it gives a voice to the voice-less, but it also gives a voice to a lot of a-holes and I fear I may be one of them.
Here are some stats I’ve scored in my five years of bloggery. You tell me if they made this futile exercise worth it:
(All numbers are what I’ve racked up since the blog began 5 years ago.)
POSTS – 3,537 (Mostly about farts)
VIEWS – 122,325 (Mostly Aunt Gertie)
VISITORS – 80,078 (Mostly people who came here for directions on how to get away from here.)
And there you have it. My blogging all boiled down to the stats. By the way, I also have 2,605 who have clicked the follow button on this blog but somehow, I only have 3.5 readers. I know 3.5 is facetious but it isn’t that much of a stretch either. On an average day, I’m lucky to crack maybe 20 or 30 visitors. Getting over 100 in a day is reason to pop the champagne.
So, let me know what you think about my 5 years of blogging. Oh, and if you’ve followed me from the beginning, for a couple years, or just started recently, thank you…and also, I hope whatever ailment you are suffering from that keeps you housebound and unable to do anything productive so all you do is just read dumb blogs like this one clears up soon.
Hey 3.5 readers.
Your old pal BQB here.
It’s official. I have now written 3,500 posts for 3.5 readers. This is not my 3,500th post. My last post was that one. This is the post to let you know that 3,500 posts have been posted.
Thank you, 3.5 readers. It has been a joy to entertain all 3.5 of you. Sometimes I wish you would each tell a friend so I could have 7 readers, but a good writer never looks any gift readers in the mouth.
CUSTOMER SERVICE REP (CSR): Hello, thank you for calling Big Ass Cable Company. We’ve already told the NSA how much porn you watched today. How may I help you?
BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER: Hello, ma’am. Bookshelf Q. Battler here. I’d like to schedule an appointment to get a cable jack installed in my house.
CSR: (typing sounds). OK, Mr. Battler. I see here you just ordered an Awesome Box and it is on the way. I’ll schedule your tech visit after your Awesome Box’s arrival.
BQB: Oh, ok. Hey, listen, this might be confusing but I’ll try to explain. You see, I just got a new TV for my BQB office. I really shouldn’t have spent the money but, well, you can’t take it with you and I doubt I’m ever going to have a hot, big breasted blonde to spend the money on, so I figured I needed a brand new TV so I can see Ben Affleck’s hair plugs in high def whenever I watch “Reindeer Games” and relive my 1990s glory. Anyway, I ordered an Awesome Box for this TV but your company made a mistake and sent me a Suck Box instead.
CSR: Uh huh. I’m pretending to understand.
BQB: Well, at first I was irate, but then I just decided to re-order the Awesome Box and pray to Jesus that you get it right this time. In the meantime, you’re in luck, because your company’s incompetence has born fruit. I decided that at the low rate you’re offering the Suck Box, I can afford to attach it to a small TV in a room I rarely use.
CSR: OK. One moment please. Hold on…I’m processing this information.
BQB: Sorry, this has gotten so complicated. You know, to simplify this, we don’t really need to be worrying about any boxes. All I need is for a human being from your company to come to my BQB HQ and install a jack…
CSR: A jack?
BQB: Am I using the right terminology? An outlet? It’s the plate in the wall that you would attach the cable to your cable box and then in turn, you’d attach the box to your television.
CSR: I see. OK we can do that. I’m going to cancel your order for an Awesome Box and just make the note that the technician can bring an Awesome Box for your appointment and…(typing sounds)…oh, sir, I’m sorry but my system won’t let me arrange for a technician to install your Awesome Box until it arrives.
BQB: (breathes deeply and sighs for dramatic effect.) I’m sorry, maybe I’m not explaining this well.
CSR: That’s ok.
BQB: Why I am calling has nothing to do with any boxes.
BQB: The box situation is fine. We can stop talking about the boxes and move on.
BQB: What I need is a cable outlet installed…
CSR: For your new Awesome Box?
BQB: (breathes loudly and sighs.) No. Alright, let me try this again. I got a new TV.
BQB: The new TV is located in a position where there already is a cable jack in the wall.
CSR: Got it.
BQB: I ordered an Awesome Box to attach to this new TV via the already installed cable jack.
BQB: Your company, in error, sent me a Suck Box instead of the Awesome Box instead.
BQB: I don’t want a Suck Box for my Awesome TV. I want an Awesome Box for my Awesome TV. It’s in a room I spend a lot of time in. Ergo, I want to be able to watch Nicki Minaj videos where every little droplet of sweat pours off her copious butt cheeks in high definition surround sound, an experience that the Suck Box just can’t offer.
BQB: But, I have decided to reward your company’s stupidity. You see, there is a smaller, suckier TV in a room I rarely use. And, for the low rate you offer for the Suck Box, I figured I can attach the Suck Box to the Suck TV in the room I rarely use and I will rarely, ever watch this Suck TV with the Suck Box but I figure, you know, since you’re offering a cheap deal, it will be worth it whenever I have a family gathering and I can excuse myself from all the relatives and friends I despise. I can tell them I have to go to the room I don’t use and hang up my company’s coats or some bullshit that sounds like I’m working hard on my hosting duties, but really I’m going to just going to pull up a bean bag chair and watch Suck TV on the Suck box.
BQB: And for this rare occasion, I don’t need the high performance Awesome Box. I can get by with the low def for watching, I don’t know, the 11,000th episode of NCIS or whatever will be on while I’m hiding out from my guests next Thanksgiving, drowning my sorrows with cheap beer and wondering where I went so wrong and what can I do better next year so I’ll end up celebrating with people I actually like.
BQB: I don’t need much for my Suck TV. I don’t need HD to watch Fox News and learn how Trump’s farts cure cancer, or when I watch CNN and learn how Trump’s farts cause cancer, or when I watch MSNBC and learn how Trump’s farts cause cancer and AIDs, or when I watch C-SPAN and get to see the raw footage of Trump’s farts and am left to determine on my own their potential curative properties or lack thereof in relation to cancer.
CSR: OK I think I understand.
BQB: To review, I’ve got the boxes I need. Now, all I need is for a human being experienced in the installation of cable outlets to come to my house and install one.
CSR: Uh huh…. (typing sounds) …OK, sir, I’m sorry I’ve tried putting this into my system but I’m afraid I just can’t have the tech install your Awesome Box unless I cancel the delivery of the Awesome Box and…
(BQB covers the receiver. Screams loudly out of fury and exhaustion. Retreats to the fridge to eat half a cheesecake. Returns to the phone.)
BQB: Ma’am, please, I’m trying here. I really I am. Listen, let me break this down.
CSR: Fuck you, mansplainer.
BQB: Pardon me?
CSR: Sorry, bad connection.
BQB: OK. You work for a major cable company. Your company is in the business of providing channels that come into TVs via cable installations. My question is…
CSR: I understand your question, sir.
BQB: Do you? Because it sounds like you’re telling me that your cable company cannot install a cable jack and to me, that’s like going to Dunkin Donuts and being told by the worker at the counter that they only have peanut butter celery sticks, or showing up at Starbucks and being told I’m a shithead for thinking that they would have coffee.
BQB: So, ok, drumroll, moment of truth here, please, just yes or no, can your cable company, which is in the business of providing cable, install a cable outlet in my house?
CSR: Sir, if you’d like to install your Awesome Box on your own, that’s fine, we’d just have to.
BQB: Am I being Punk’d? Is Ashton Kutcher going to jump out of my closet and laugh at me?
CSR: I have no idea what that means.
BQB: I give up. I’ll just assume you’re telling me that you can’t install a jack.
CSR: A what?
BQB: (eats the other half of the cheesecake): Look, it’s fine. It’s not you. I blame the public school system. I need a cable jack. I’m not sure how it’s done. I think someone smarter than me crawls the fuck around in my attic and feeds a cable line down my wall and then cuts a hole with expert precision that, when all is said and done, will allow cable to appear on a television.
CSR: You could just plug your Awesome Box into the…
BQB: The Suck Box…Look, just…I….I’m sorry…I need to hang up now and crawl into a corner and curl up into the fetal position and question why my luck is so terrible.
BQB: Because seriously, whenever I look at Facebook, all my high school friends are playing golf and eating lobsters on yachts and jamming on guitars and strolling through Tuscany and I just know that whenever they call your company in need of a jack they just get a person who knows what to do…
CSR: Would you like to upgrade and get STARZ and CINEMAX for the low price of…
BQB: Goodbye. To the fetal position I go.
Hey 3.5 readers.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2014. Next March, it will be 5 years. My Christmas wish is that next year this little enterprise will actually start turning a profit. Toilet Gator will hopefully come out in 2019 and if a book about an alligator who eats people while they are pooping can’t make me a millionaire then I don’t know what will.
In the meantime, check out one of my books below and if you have a spare 99 cents, feel free to buy one.
What is your Christmas wish? Discuss in the comments.
Oh average night, the stars are brightly shining!
And the night is just normal because it isn’t holy because we will no longer be subjected to the patriarchy’s puritanically rigid belief system that forces the ignorant into modifying their behavior in accordance with the whims of a fictional man in the sky who simply isn’t there.
Fall on your knees!
But only if you want to take a rest.
But if you don’t, that’s ok.
In fact, don’t because then you’ll get grass stains on your jeans!
A night that is not divine!
No, it’s just another night as usual except is it just me or is this night hotter than usual? Damn it, when will you all learn that global warming is real, people?!
Rudolph the red nosed reindeer,
Had the unfair advantage of a shiny nose.
None of the other reindeer,
Had a very shiny nose.
All of the other reindeer,
Were made to feel bad about themselves when they gazed upon Rudolph’s shiny honker.
Knowing that someone was doing better than they were, really drove them nuts and bonkers.
Then one foggy Christmas eve, Santa came to say,
Rudolph take your nose so bright,
And get it away from the reindeer’s sight.
Then how the reindeer were happy,
And they shouted out with glee,
“Rudolph the red nosed reindeer, we’ll never be as good as you, but now we’ve dragged you down to be as bad as we!”
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed (because capitalism is the worst because the wealthiest 1 percent use the unwitting 99 percent as their pawns and socialism will totally work if we just give it one more try)…
The little Lord Jesus, laid down his, her, or possible xer’s head. Whatever. It’s way too early to box this child into a gender and Jesus will let us know what he, she, or xe is in time.
The stars in the sky, look down where he, she, or xe or any combination thereof because gender is fluid, lay.
The little Lord Jesus asleep on the hay, again, because when are we going to wake up and realize that capitalism is barbaric and only when government seizes control of all business interests will all children of indeterminate gender be allowed to sleep in the proper cribs they deserve.
HER: I really can’t stay.
HIM: That’s cool, you’re free to leave at anytime. You’re a strong, independent woman in charge of your own agency, capable of making her own decisions and if remaining here is not your wish then I bid you adieu.
HER: I’ve got to go away.
HIM: No problem. There’s the door. Right there. Good evening. Drive safely.
HER: This evening has been…
HIM: I’m sorry, but I see you’re lingering. Would you mind signing this memorandum indicating that you remained on the premises even though I distinctly said you were free to leave and I in no way impeded your exit?
HER: …so very nice.
HIM: Don’t mind me. I’m just going pull out my phone so I can stream us on Facebook live and, ok, here we are. Hello, everyone. Shout out to all my followers. I just want to show the world that I’m being a total gentleman and I am not keeping this strong, independent woman from leaving. See? Right there’s the door. Nothing is blocking it. I’m all the way over here. She’s free to go whenever she chooses.
HER: I ought to say, “No, no, no, sir!”
HIM: You have and I respect that. Just a reminder you are more than welcome to walk out the front door and I will not interfere in any way.
HER: At least I’m going to say that I tried.
HIM: Yes, and as loudly as possible I am telling all 257 of my Facebook friends that I am trying to make sure that you are aware you are free to vamoose.
HER: My mother will start to worry.
HIM: Hold on, I’m going to get on my landline because I’m one of the last few people ot have one of those and I’m calling your mom and, “Hello Her’s Mother how are you? Him here. Say, just wanted to clue you in on the situation. Her is fine. Totes fine. She’s here. I’m being totally respectful and I would never keep her here against her will.”
HER: My father will be pacing the floor.
HIM: You know, it dawns on me that maybe you aren’t leaving because you don’t have cab fare. Now, please don’t take that the wrong way. I understand you are a very powerful, strong, independent woman who earns her own living and doesn’t need a man to pay her way but please, my treat, let me call you an Uber on my account and we’ll have the driver take you home or anywhere you want to go. By the way, I will also pay a private detective to run a full background check on the driver and I will hire two armed guards to accompany you in case anyone tries to touch you during your ride.
HER: My sister will be suspicious.
HIM: Nope, she’s fine. Hi, sis! Thanks for friending me. See? Your sister’s A-OK. Hey I’m just going to step outside myself and I don’t even care if there’s 6 feet snowdrifts out here I’m just going to step out here on the front porch and, ah, that’s better! There we go! Now you’re safe in the house, and I’m out here so as to avoid the appearance of impropriety. No one can say anything unsavory happened if you’re in there and I’m out here. See that, Facebook? Everything’s totally legit.
HER: My brother will be pacing the floor.
HIM: I’m just going to send my carrier pigeon to your brother with a note in his beak informing him that you’re fine and if he or any of your other family or friends would like to come over and verify that you’re OK, they are welcome to come here and do so. Away you go, pigeon! In the meantime, I will keep speaking to you through the open door but I will remain outside in these arctic conditions so that you remain safe.
HER: Your welcome has been…
HIM: Oh thank god, it’s a police officer out on patrol! Officer! Yoo hoo! Would you be a pal and stand next to me to verify that I am not doing anything to harm this strong, independent female and Her, just an FYI if you feel unsafe I’m sure this officer would be willing to escort you past me just, again, to be on the safe side. You can never be too careful.
HER: …so nice and warm.
HIM: Shit! She won’t leave. Let me get on the phone again. Hello? Ajax Public Relations Firm? Look, there’s going to be a huge story about me tomorrow and we need to get ahead of it ASAP. Cancel all your business. I’m putting you on retainer because it is going to be blasted all over the inter webs and I’ll need your full staff ready and waiting to field press inquiries 24/7. I want to tell you right up front I did not lay a hand on this strong, powerful woman and in fact, I streamed our entire evening on Facebook from outside the house while a police officer was present and what? Well…no, of course I’m not calling her a liar! I’m not saying that tomorrow, she might believe that something bad might have happened, I’m just saying that I will not be the culprit. What? What do you mean that’s as good as calling her a liar? No, I don’t believe all women lie. Yes, I believe all women…
HER: So really I’d better scurry.
HIM: Officer, if you’d be so kind as to handcuff me and yes, there we go. My hands are now restrained behind my back. Officer, if you wouldn’t mind to use my phone to keep the Facebook stream going. Wait, let me shout to my neighbors. NEIGHBORS! COME OUT AND BE MY WITNESSES, PLEASE!
HER: But maybe just a half a drink more.
HIM: Oh no. There’s no alcohol here, ma’am. I’m not implying that you, as a woman, would somehow be prone to abusing alcohol or that women should not feel free to imbibe, I’m just saying I do not keep alcohol in the house so as to prevent a situation where a woman might become inebriated because then she would be in a state where she could be taken advantage of. You are welcome to get some tap water but please keep your hand over your drink at all times as you never know when someone might slip a mickey into it.
HER: My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious.
HIM: That’s fine. See? My neighbors came outside so I have over a dozen witnesses on the scene who can testify I did no wrong here.
HER: But maybe just a cigarette more.
HIM: I’m sorry, there’s no smoking allowed here. By the way, it just dawned on me that maybe you are not leaving because you fear reprisal if you do. Please rest assured that no harm will come to you, should you decide to leave. There will be no harm done to you at any time in the future, whatsoever. I will not say anything bad about your reputation and we don’t work in the same field so I have no power to get you blacklisted or drummed out of your profession and you know what? I’ll put this in writing. Let me just write this down. OK. Here’s a fully binding legal document indicating you are free to leave and there will be no repercussions for doing so and I will not interfere with your livelihood if you go and hey? Isn’t one of my neighbors a notary? Fred, you’re a notary, right? Cool. Fred just notarized this.
HER: You’ve really been grand…
HIM: By the way, just now, I wrote that all behind my back. I trained on how to write while handcuffed just for occasions like these. Her, it now dawns on me maybe you’re not leaving because you think you want to engage in voluntary sexual congress with me right now but perhaps thirty to forty years in the future you will regret having sex with me and will consider the act a violation of your person. It just so happens, one of my neighbors is a fortune teller so I’m just going to let her…
MADAME OLGA: By the light of the full moon, I gaze my eyes upon the wonders of my crystal ball and I look forward into the mists of the great beyond. Oh spirits, tell me if sex that happens today will be appreciated or despised in four decades time.
HIM: You know what? Cut that, Olga. I’m just going to refuse to participate in any sex at all. You hear that, everyone? I refuse sex. There is absolutely no way to tell if this woman, who has gotten all naked and is lying spread eagle on my bearskin rug, licking her lips and beckoning me to come hither with her finger whilst a bright, flashing neon sign points to her vagina that says, “OPEN FOR BUSINESS!” Yes, to the untrained eye, it looks like this strong, independent woman desires sex but there’s no way to know for sure. Anyone could have put that sign there. I’ll just decline. Fred, draw up a legal memorandum indicating my declination of any and all possible sex acts this evening.
HER: But can’t you see? Baby it’s cold outside…
HIM: Oh my god! She’s coming this way! Quick, officer! Shoot my dick off! I beg of you! I don’t want to be declared the next sex pervert du jour on the inter webs tomorrow! Please! Shoot my dick off! I beg you!
I’m late in wishing you a Happy Halloween but I hope you had a good one.