Monday, November 29, 2010
I lost my sun glasses today.
My sun glasses hung on the collar of my t-shirt while I dumped hard in a Starbuck's bathroom. Slightly leaning forward to wipe, my sunglasses fell from my neck and landed on my boxers, bouncing them between my legs and into the dump filled toilet bowl. There is no amount of rubbing alcohol that will clean away the memory of seeing my glasses float in shit and piss. God damnit, that is another 10-15 dollars that I have to spend.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
I think this is my best poem.
The prompt was about being stuck in an elevator by yourself.
Sorry I was late
All I wanted was a bag of Funyuns
and the fourth floor vending machine
to have some. Onion flavored rings
will solve everything.
I’ve been staring at “L” for 23 minutes
now contemplating what I have done
paralyzed with how dumb
this excuse sounds.
Shouting for help does nothing,
but make me feel like I’ve tried
everything. Nothing. No help.
“In case of fire or Funyuns, use the stairs.”
I once saw a Youtube clip of a man
trapped in an elevator for 41 hours.
Man,
fuck.
Cell phone at the desk
I am unvoiced.
I check my watch as if it could
shoot a laser to carve myself an escape.
The reflection forces me to stare at the face
of my reckless decision.
I am a fish whose owner went on vacation
and may possibly never come back.
I could be here for a while.
All I wanted was a bag of Funyuns.
Sorry I was late
All I wanted was a bag of Funyuns
and the fourth floor vending machine
to have some. Onion flavored rings
will solve everything.
I’ve been staring at “L” for 23 minutes
now contemplating what I have done
paralyzed with how dumb
this excuse sounds.
Shouting for help does nothing,
but make me feel like I’ve tried
everything. Nothing. No help.
“In case of fire or Funyuns, use the stairs.”
I once saw a Youtube clip of a man
trapped in an elevator for 41 hours.
Man,
fuck.
Cell phone at the desk
I am unvoiced.
I check my watch as if it could
shoot a laser to carve myself an escape.
The reflection forces me to stare at the face
of my reckless decision.
I am a fish whose owner went on vacation
and may possibly never come back.
I could be here for a while.
All I wanted was a bag of Funyuns.
Another Poem.
This poem had to be about a relative.
The Worst Thanksgiving Ever
No matter how hard I try, I will never forget
those bulky glasses that magnified that vacant stare,
or the way he filled a room
horizontally and vertically.
Whenever he breaches his lips,
Hammond, Indiana, can be heard.
He constantly reminded everyone of
his post office adventures
by dressing the part
every
single
day.
Short short short blue shorts,
his ill-fitting hat that hid
his bald head,
and the shirt that held his fat
like a dam moments
before it bursts.
I never understood his fascinations with Iguanas
nor the need for him to let them crawl
beneath his shirt
inside McDonalds.
My burger was nicely
complimented with stares.
Still a child, I was relieved
when he justified himself
with the simple excuse
“I’m homosexual, Brian.”
“That’s great, Uncle Jim,
I thought you were fucking crazy.”
The Worst Thanksgiving Ever
No matter how hard I try, I will never forget
those bulky glasses that magnified that vacant stare,
or the way he filled a room
horizontally and vertically.
Whenever he breaches his lips,
Hammond, Indiana, can be heard.
He constantly reminded everyone of
his post office adventures
by dressing the part
every
single
day.
Short short short blue shorts,
his ill-fitting hat that hid
his bald head,
and the shirt that held his fat
like a dam moments
before it bursts.
I never understood his fascinations with Iguanas
nor the need for him to let them crawl
beneath his shirt
inside McDonalds.
My burger was nicely
complimented with stares.
Still a child, I was relieved
when he justified himself
with the simple excuse
“I’m homosexual, Brian.”
“That’s great, Uncle Jim,
I thought you were fucking crazy.”
Late Poem Updates.
This was prompt number 2. The poem had to be about a specific item.
“Bro-Truck”
Bros pack the cab
slamming Monsters
over-hyping keggers.
Brah, that sloot was slammin’.
High fives dispensed
like breath mints
over the weekend’s box score.
Jack Johnson battles Dave Matthews
for bro-supremacy
supplying the voice
for all their emotions.
The bed, a cattle cart
chauffeuring bros to their
bro-destinations
while soliciting promises to shorties
of, like, a good time, you know?
Hormones inflate faster than
their raging biceps
as they lounge, lifted
above everyone.
Sick rims, dudebrah. Metal Mulisha and shit.
A truck infested with such
athleticism, charm, promise
screeches
into Dream Palace.
“Bro-Truck”
Bros pack the cab
slamming Monsters
over-hyping keggers.
Brah, that sloot was slammin’.
High fives dispensed
like breath mints
over the weekend’s box score.
Jack Johnson battles Dave Matthews
for bro-supremacy
supplying the voice
for all their emotions.
The bed, a cattle cart
chauffeuring bros to their
bro-destinations
while soliciting promises to shorties
of, like, a good time, you know?
Hormones inflate faster than
their raging biceps
as they lounge, lifted
above everyone.
Sick rims, dudebrah. Metal Mulisha and shit.
A truck infested with such
athleticism, charm, promise
screeches
into Dream Palace.
Monday, September 13, 2010
My First Assignment in My Poetry Class
Rich Kids Playing War
By Brian Rhoads
I spent last week crawling in Afghanistan
amidst air conditioning, walls decorated
with images of plentiful Thanksgiving dinners
and too many pillows and Cheez itz.
I heard a little boy’s voice,
Innocent, naïve, non-comprehendible.
Could not have been older than 8;
a child has no purpose with war whatsoever.
Fourteen year olds shout curse words
and sing their tone deaf melodies
because their parents are asleep
on the other side of the house.
The young child cries hate
while his father defends
that his boy is in training for his forcible future.
If only he knew
that that is what is wrong with the world.
Oh, the lessons taught by Xbox.
I will post my teacher's/classmate's feedback. Post yours, friends!
By Brian Rhoads
I spent last week crawling in Afghanistan
amidst air conditioning, walls decorated
with images of plentiful Thanksgiving dinners
and too many pillows and Cheez itz.
I heard a little boy’s voice,
Innocent, naïve, non-comprehendible.
Could not have been older than 8;
a child has no purpose with war whatsoever.
Fourteen year olds shout curse words
and sing their tone deaf melodies
because their parents are asleep
on the other side of the house.
The young child cries hate
while his father defends
that his boy is in training for his forcible future.
If only he knew
that that is what is wrong with the world.
Oh, the lessons taught by Xbox.
I will post my teacher's/classmate's feedback. Post yours, friends!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
R33F3R M@DN355
Before 7 am today, I had been asked for r33f3r twice.
First Occurance (6:35 am): Upon boarding the lightrail, a kid who appeared to be fifteen made eye contact with me and motioned for me to take off my headphones. After pausing my mp3 player (which I must use the term "mp3 player" because I do not have an ipod or other mp3 player that is recognizable by one word), I leaned in closer to hear the kid's request.
KID "Hey man, you get down?"
ME "Pardon?"
KID "You smoke?"
ME "Yes. Are you asking me for a cigarette?"
KID "Naw, dawg. Do you have any bud?"
His query was quite audible to anyone and everyone else on the lightrail. He even said the word "bud" real shitty-like, kind of how they do in those very religious after school specials. You know, where the square gets handed a joint and after figuring out what it is sheepishly asks, "Is this... mar-uh-wanna?"
ME "No, dude."
KID "Why not?"
ME "I'm in public."
KID "So?"
ME "No, dude."
At this point, I carry on with my mp3 player and watch him mouth the words "mother fucker" at me. We remained silent for the remainder of my lightrail experience.
Second Occurance (6:50 am): Walking towards school, I was moving along on University Dr. when I notice a girl sticking her head out of her window while driving. She made a very unsafe left turn and came to a screetching halt. Initially, I was confused. She called me over to her window, and because I am dumb, I followed. Immediately, this scene looking kid jumps out of the passenger seat and shakes my hands like we've been boys for years. I had a hard time listening to him due to the fact that I was still trying to figure out if I knew/was supposed to know this guy.
SCENE KID "Hey, yo, man. You know where I can find some r33f3r?"
ME "Right now?"
SCENE KID "Yeah."
ME "It's daylight."
SCENE KID "I know."
ME "No, bro."
He instantly becomes disgusted with me and runs back to the car he hopped out of. They pulled back towards University Dr. and flipped me off before they sped off. TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.
Now, I understand that I look like I partake in r33f3r related activities, but to assume that I am carrying r33f3r on me at all times (especially in broad daylight and in public) is just fucking obscene. People do not know the proper way of acquiring r33f3r. When I used to work with Trevor (at a location that will not be mentioned or discussed whatsoever), he retorted to a young patron who had made the same mistake as my forementioned run-ins, saying, "You are either a terrible undercover cop or just fucking dumb." I feel like I will be asked at least 2 more times today by complete strangers, and 3 more times by people I actually know. Man, fuck.
First Occurance (6:35 am): Upon boarding the lightrail, a kid who appeared to be fifteen made eye contact with me and motioned for me to take off my headphones. After pausing my mp3 player (which I must use the term "mp3 player" because I do not have an ipod or other mp3 player that is recognizable by one word), I leaned in closer to hear the kid's request.
KID "Hey man, you get down?"
ME "Pardon?"
KID "You smoke?"
ME "Yes. Are you asking me for a cigarette?"
KID "Naw, dawg. Do you have any bud?"
His query was quite audible to anyone and everyone else on the lightrail. He even said the word "bud" real shitty-like, kind of how they do in those very religious after school specials. You know, where the square gets handed a joint and after figuring out what it is sheepishly asks, "Is this... mar-uh-wanna?"
ME "No, dude."
KID "Why not?"
ME "I'm in public."
KID "So?"
ME "No, dude."
At this point, I carry on with my mp3 player and watch him mouth the words "mother fucker" at me. We remained silent for the remainder of my lightrail experience.
Second Occurance (6:50 am): Walking towards school, I was moving along on University Dr. when I notice a girl sticking her head out of her window while driving. She made a very unsafe left turn and came to a screetching halt. Initially, I was confused. She called me over to her window, and because I am dumb, I followed. Immediately, this scene looking kid jumps out of the passenger seat and shakes my hands like we've been boys for years. I had a hard time listening to him due to the fact that I was still trying to figure out if I knew/was supposed to know this guy.
SCENE KID "Hey, yo, man. You know where I can find some r33f3r?"
ME "Right now?"
SCENE KID "Yeah."
ME "It's daylight."
SCENE KID "I know."
ME "No, bro."
He instantly becomes disgusted with me and runs back to the car he hopped out of. They pulled back towards University Dr. and flipped me off before they sped off. TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.
Now, I understand that I look like I partake in r33f3r related activities, but to assume that I am carrying r33f3r on me at all times (especially in broad daylight and in public) is just fucking obscene. People do not know the proper way of acquiring r33f3r. When I used to work with Trevor (at a location that will not be mentioned or discussed whatsoever), he retorted to a young patron who had made the same mistake as my forementioned run-ins, saying, "You are either a terrible undercover cop or just fucking dumb." I feel like I will be asked at least 2 more times today by complete strangers, and 3 more times by people I actually know. Man, fuck.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Comedy "Enthusiast"
This bothers me:
"It took me awhile to decide if I should write this bio in the third person but then figured how personal is that? I mean this is facebook, the most intimate of all internet sites, so I just need to be me. There is no grand story of how I stumbled into comedy and to be honest, here I am almost 3 years later and have come to learn the stumbling never really stops. There is nothing out there like being on a stage in front of the world...or at least a couple hundred people you bribed to come see you that night...but it’s a rush that doesn’t go away, it just makes you crave it more. Thanks to a recent event at a show...I have come to the realization of the obvious. The best part of being a stand up comedian is that night in and night out, unless you’re a hack, you get to take yourself on stage. Just like in everyday life, some will love you, some will hate you, some won’t get you. Regardless of the situation, they will all respect you and it’s kinda cool to know that, good show or "bad" show, another mic is waiting tomorrow to do it all over again. I feel very blessed to do what I do for a living and get no greater enjoyment than knowing I may have made someone’s day better because of something I had to say that they could relate to on some level. You never know why someone needs or wants to laugh, maybe it was a bad day, week, month, maybe you are celebrating something, maybe you just wanna go out and forget your troubles, whatever the reason, I enjoy the opportunity to leave an impression when you come to my show. So, if you are interested in booking info for clubs, parties, or corporate events send me a message here or contact me at... otherwise I’ll look forward to seeing you at a show, and please say hi...see ya soon"
As you can probably tell, this was written by someone who has done/still currently does stand up comedy in Arizona. No, it wasn't me (thank god). But why does this make me want to slowly rip out every organ in my body through my dickhole you ask? Don't worry, I'll explain:
- We get it, brah. You like making people laugh. Who doesn't? You don't have to write a fucking novel about it, man. Just say, "I like to make people laugh" or "I consider myself as a comedian."
- What is your definition of a "bad" show?
- Fuck, dude.
- This seems more of a desperate plea for others to consider you as a comedian than any actual description about you, defeating the purpose of a "Bio."
- You open your Facebook Bio with, "It took me awhile to decide if I should write this bio in the third person but then figured how personal is that?" This sentence is unnecessary and I'm sure that you spent a lot of time on this. More importantly, it is "a while," sir.
- "There is no grand story of how I stumbled into comedy and to be honest, here I am almost 3 years later and have come to learn the stumbling never really stops." Not really helping your case of trying to convince people that you're a comedian, eh Anthony?
- REPLACE YOUR ELLIPSES WITH COMMAS, DUDE.
- "You never know why someone needs or wants to laugh, maybe it was a bad day, week, month, maybe you are celebrating something, maybe you just wanna go out and forget your troubles, whatever the reason, I enjoy the opportunity to leave an impression when you come to my show." Yes, because you MUST have a reason to want/need to laugh.
At first I was paranoid of posting this, but I really don't care if this guy reads it, to be honest. I feel justified because this is what comes up if you are looking at his profile and are not friends with him on Facebook.
"It took me awhile to decide if I should write this bio in the third person but then figured how personal is that? I mean this is facebook, the most intimate of all internet sites, so I just need to be me. There is no grand story of how I stumbled into comedy and to be honest, here I am almost 3 years later and have come to learn the stumbling never really stops. There is nothing out there like being on a stage in front of the world...or at least a couple hundred people you bribed to come see you that night...but it’s a rush that doesn’t go away, it just makes you crave it more. Thanks to a recent event at a show...I have come to the realization of the obvious. The best part of being a stand up comedian is that night in and night out, unless you’re a hack, you get to take yourself on stage. Just like in everyday life, some will love you, some will hate you, some won’t get you. Regardless of the situation, they will all respect you and it’s kinda cool to know that, good show or "bad" show, another mic is waiting tomorrow to do it all over again. I feel very blessed to do what I do for a living and get no greater enjoyment than knowing I may have made someone’s day better because of something I had to say that they could relate to on some level. You never know why someone needs or wants to laugh, maybe it was a bad day, week, month, maybe you are celebrating something, maybe you just wanna go out and forget your troubles, whatever the reason, I enjoy the opportunity to leave an impression when you come to my show. So, if you are interested in booking info for clubs, parties, or corporate events send me a message here or contact me at... otherwise I’ll look forward to seeing you at a show, and please say hi...see ya soon"
As you can probably tell, this was written by someone who has done/still currently does stand up comedy in Arizona. No, it wasn't me (thank god). But why does this make me want to slowly rip out every organ in my body through my dickhole you ask? Don't worry, I'll explain:
- We get it, brah. You like making people laugh. Who doesn't? You don't have to write a fucking novel about it, man. Just say, "I like to make people laugh" or "I consider myself as a comedian."
- What is your definition of a "bad" show?
- Fuck, dude.
- This seems more of a desperate plea for others to consider you as a comedian than any actual description about you, defeating the purpose of a "Bio."
- You open your Facebook Bio with, "It took me awhile to decide if I should write this bio in the third person but then figured how personal is that?" This sentence is unnecessary and I'm sure that you spent a lot of time on this. More importantly, it is "a while," sir.
- "There is no grand story of how I stumbled into comedy and to be honest, here I am almost 3 years later and have come to learn the stumbling never really stops." Not really helping your case of trying to convince people that you're a comedian, eh Anthony?
- REPLACE YOUR ELLIPSES WITH COMMAS, DUDE.
- "You never know why someone needs or wants to laugh, maybe it was a bad day, week, month, maybe you are celebrating something, maybe you just wanna go out and forget your troubles, whatever the reason, I enjoy the opportunity to leave an impression when you come to my show." Yes, because you MUST have a reason to want/need to laugh.
At first I was paranoid of posting this, but I really don't care if this guy reads it, to be honest. I feel justified because this is what comes up if you are looking at his profile and are not friends with him on Facebook.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tight
ICP is performing at the Marquee Theater tonight meaning there are a fuck ton of Juggalos invading Mill Ave. I drove by at least three times honking my horn and screaming at the top of my lungs, "All of you are faggots." I could tell they heard me because they flipped me off and began slewing their own inaudible insults. Now, I must find something to do so that I could drive by the theater again.
I think I'll go to the gym... I've gotten rather "doughy" as of late. Too much beer, I'd say.
Fuck I need to stop being such a coward and write more.
I think I'll go to the gym... I've gotten rather "doughy" as of late. Too much beer, I'd say.
Fuck I need to stop being such a coward and write more.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Two Weeks Notice
I woke up Monday morning and immediately wrote my two weeks notice. It was an exhilarating experience despite the actual length of my notice. The letter in its entirety:
February 7, 2010
To Whom It May Concern:
I am sad to inform you that this is my two weeks notice. My last day of work will be Sunday, February 21, 2010.
Best of luck,
Brian C. Rhoads
I left it on the manager's desk as I was finished closing the store. I wanted to say so much more about how that store has sucked out my soul and robbed me of whatever innocence I may have had left. I've been happier ever since. Dobbins asked me today how I felt and I could not summon up the words due to an overwhelming amount of thoughts that ran through my head.
Tuesday night I passed a man who was obviously fucked up and holding a handful of change on my way to class. Along with his defeated slouch, he was sporting a San Francisco 49ers jacket (that I'm sure was fresh in the 90's) and a black trucker hat with no logo. He approached me and held out one quarter and murmured the words, "Hey, yo, bro, I know you gots the sugar. Hook me up with some sugar." Sadly, I did not come through with the sugar and continued walking. The man begins walking behind me at approximately 5 paces behind and proceeds to ask everyone passing us for sugar. It was tight. It was like he knew that I wanted to hear as much of his daily interactions as possible.
I was heading to my Harlem Renaissance class, the class where white kids feel they get the green light to say the 'n' word as much as possible. Notable characters:
1) "Desperately Trying to Be Different" Girl - She has a wild haircut and wears the same denim jacket with a "The Cramps: Bad music for bad people" patch safety pinned to the back of it. Isn't she unique? I overheard her exchanging jokes with other classmates. When it was her turn, she said,"Ummmm, well, what's the difference between roast beef and pea soup? Anyone can roast a beef, but no one can pee soup!!! I heard that on iCarly." For those of you who do not know what iCarly is, be happy. My only justification for knowing this shit is my seven year old niece.
2) "Girl Who Desperately Wants to Be the 'Desperately Trying to Be Different' Girl" Girl - She constantly glances over at Example 1 for an indication of how to react to nearly everything. All that will make her happy is Example 1's acceptance. She is also mad dumpy.
3)Crazy Asian Lady - This one is my favorite. She is in her sixties and can barely speak any English. I am not mocking her for either one of these traits, but what you also need to know is that she is fucking crazy. She will utter a half-coherent sentence whenever she wants and has also been asked kindly by several people in her vicinity to stop grabbing their shit. On several occasions, I have seen her eat a bag of chips by holding the bottom of the bag with her hand and eating straight out of the bag with her mouth. Tight.
February 7, 2010
To Whom It May Concern:
I am sad to inform you that this is my two weeks notice. My last day of work will be Sunday, February 21, 2010.
Best of luck,
Brian C. Rhoads
I left it on the manager's desk as I was finished closing the store. I wanted to say so much more about how that store has sucked out my soul and robbed me of whatever innocence I may have had left. I've been happier ever since. Dobbins asked me today how I felt and I could not summon up the words due to an overwhelming amount of thoughts that ran through my head.
Tuesday night I passed a man who was obviously fucked up and holding a handful of change on my way to class. Along with his defeated slouch, he was sporting a San Francisco 49ers jacket (that I'm sure was fresh in the 90's) and a black trucker hat with no logo. He approached me and held out one quarter and murmured the words, "Hey, yo, bro, I know you gots the sugar. Hook me up with some sugar." Sadly, I did not come through with the sugar and continued walking. The man begins walking behind me at approximately 5 paces behind and proceeds to ask everyone passing us for sugar. It was tight. It was like he knew that I wanted to hear as much of his daily interactions as possible.
I was heading to my Harlem Renaissance class, the class where white kids feel they get the green light to say the 'n' word as much as possible. Notable characters:
1) "Desperately Trying to Be Different" Girl - She has a wild haircut and wears the same denim jacket with a "The Cramps: Bad music for bad people" patch safety pinned to the back of it. Isn't she unique? I overheard her exchanging jokes with other classmates. When it was her turn, she said,"Ummmm, well, what's the difference between roast beef and pea soup? Anyone can roast a beef, but no one can pee soup!!! I heard that on iCarly." For those of you who do not know what iCarly is, be happy. My only justification for knowing this shit is my seven year old niece.
2) "Girl Who Desperately Wants to Be the 'Desperately Trying to Be Different' Girl" Girl - She constantly glances over at Example 1 for an indication of how to react to nearly everything. All that will make her happy is Example 1's acceptance. She is also mad dumpy.
3)Crazy Asian Lady - This one is my favorite. She is in her sixties and can barely speak any English. I am not mocking her for either one of these traits, but what you also need to know is that she is fucking crazy. She will utter a half-coherent sentence whenever she wants and has also been asked kindly by several people in her vicinity to stop grabbing their shit. On several occasions, I have seen her eat a bag of chips by holding the bottom of the bag with her hand and eating straight out of the bag with her mouth. Tight.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Good Morning.
This is the second time within a year that I have been robbed. You can see where the thief used the screwdriver.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Ahhh
Shortly after my last post, my computer became infested with viruses and completely shut down. Bruce E. Bruce, having taken a community college course in computer technology, deemed that my computer was in such bad condition that he needed to rebuild the computer entirely. Today was the first day I have connected to our wireless router in over 3 months... The first thing I did when I got the internet working was attempt to quit my MySpace account. This shit is impossible.
Since then, I would spend my time at home watching terrible television. I kept up with Wifeswap and Jersey Shore, but I fell into a habit of watching terrible movies filmed back in 1996. The latest one was "The Fan" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116277/). You try and find something worse. I went through a "Saved by the Bell" phase lately, but luckily for me, Cheaters comes on around the same time. I'll watch Lifetime movies, prison documentaries, Secrets of Aspen... Hell, I'll even watch "For the Love of Ray J," but I stop at "My Life as Liz." That shit is just garbage.
I'm too excited to have the internet right now... I must pause in my writings. Here are two amazing videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amFdmB_t-DY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zn1mKOnWn_Q
Since then, I would spend my time at home watching terrible television. I kept up with Wifeswap and Jersey Shore, but I fell into a habit of watching terrible movies filmed back in 1996. The latest one was "The Fan" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116277/). You try and find something worse. I went through a "Saved by the Bell" phase lately, but luckily for me, Cheaters comes on around the same time. I'll watch Lifetime movies, prison documentaries, Secrets of Aspen... Hell, I'll even watch "For the Love of Ray J," but I stop at "My Life as Liz." That shit is just garbage.
I'm too excited to have the internet right now... I must pause in my writings. Here are two amazing videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amFdmB_t-DY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zn1mKOnWn_Q
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