Posts Tagged blog

Greatest Hits

Hey gang,

I thought I would take this time between Christmas and New Year’s to look back at where the blog has been over the course of 2011 and share a couple of the more popular posts. I started brainforthought.com in March and so many people said things like, “Who the hell do you think you are?” and “That old blog won’t amount to nothing! Now you get back to mining that coal, young lady!” But the blog has been very fun and I’ve picked up some blog pals along the way.

In addition, I was very proud to have a piece was picked up by Splitsider. So kick back in your robes and slippers and enjoy Please Reset Your Password.

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 (Originally Appeared on http://www.splitsider.com, September, 2011)

Your Password Has Expired. Please Reset Your Password In Accordance With Company Policy.

User ID: PRSMITH

PASSWORD:  **********

<ERROR> Password Must Contain One Of The Following: One(1) Capitol Letter,  One Number(1-9),  One Symbol (@, #, %, ETC.)

Please Try Again

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User ID:  PRSMITH

PASSWORD:  **********

<ERROR> Password Must Not Match Last Ten (10) Passwords

Please Try Again

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User ID:  PRSMITH

PASSWORD:  **********

<ERROR>  New Company Policy: Password Must Not Match Last Twenty (20) Passwords

Please Try Again

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User ID:  PRSMITH

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<ERROR> Birthdays Are Not Allowed. Identity Theft Concern.

Please Try Again

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<ERROR> Neither Are Anniversaries.

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<ERROR> Neither Is The Date Of Losing Your Virginity.

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<ERROR> No Kids’ Names.

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<ERROR> No Spouse’s Names.

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<ERROR> No Kids’ Names Backwards.

I’m A Computer. I Can Figure It Out.

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<ERROR> No Pet Names.

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<ERROR> Not Even Fish. Especially Betas.

It’s A Worthless Animal.

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<ERROR> No Fourth Grade Teacher Names.

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<ERROR> No College Girlfriend’s Names.

Are You Still Hung Up On Veronica ?

She Died In A Car Wreck, You Know ?

You Didn’t ?

Sorry.

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<ERROR> Nothing Inspirational.

This Is Work.

You Should Feel Awful All Day.

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<ERROR>   No Tributes To Veronica.

It’s Morbid And Weird.

Despite Its Ups And Downs, You Have A Good Marriage. Celebrate That.

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<ERROR>  Wow.  That Was A Harsh One.

I Didn’t Realize Things Had Gotten That Bad With Your Marriage.

But Even If That’s True About Your Wife, That Password Didn’t Contain A Number.

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<ERROR> No Profanity.

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<ERROR> Again, No Profanity.

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<ERROR> Can Be Interpreted As Profane.

From Webster’s Dictionary: (Noun) The Wrinkles Of A Scrotum,  Or (Noun) A Large Antelope

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<ERROR> No Palindromes.

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<ERROR> No French Kings.

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<ERROR> No Asian Land Wars.

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<ERROR> No Ben Affleck Movies.

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<ERROR> Again, No Ben Affleck Movies.

You Actually Saw Paycheck ?

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<ERROR> That’s a Ben Affleck Movie!

It Is Too!

He’s One Of The Basketball Players When Kristy Swanson Kills The Vampire At The Game.

It’s An Uncredited Role, But That’s Him.

It Is Not Unfair.

I Don’t Care What You Think.   Dem’s Da Rules.

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<ERROR> That Was Just Straight Up Racist.

What ?

Wait,   I Thought You Were Venezuelan.

Really ?

Hmmmm…..

Then I Guess You Can Use That Word. My Apologies.

Password Accepted.

You Can Now Access The Payless Shoe Store Computer System.

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Reasons People Don’t Like You

 
 

1)    You started a countdown clock for Chipwrecked.

 

2)    You were so excited when your menstrual cycle synced up with the other girls at work that you handed out “Flow Buddies” sweatshirts.

 

3)    You chose Banana Pudding Day at the cafeteria to finally squeeze that softball-sized cyst on your back.

 

4)    You built a scale model of Carlsbad Caverns, by using boogers that you wiped on the bottom of your desk drawer.

 

5)    You give scalp massages at the urinal.

 

6)    You wear a shirt that has an arrow pointing to your crotch and the phrase “Too Big to Fail”

 

7)    Even though you only needed 99 of 101 dalmatians to complete your wardrobe, you use the last two for an extra pair of Crocs.

 

8)    You steer every conversation to the time you met Jon Lovitz.

 

9)    Every time you fail to earn a piece of Trivial Pursuit pie, you claim the game is biased towards “non-whites.”

 

10) You hold up the line at Wal-Mart by writing a check, five minutes after you maced everyone for an X-Box 360.

 

11) You discover a magic mailbox at your lake house that sends letters back and forth through time, but instead of cultivating the love of a lifetime, you keep sticking your dick in there asking for a temporal hand job.

 

12) You co-wrote the song “Moves Like Jagger”

 

13) You own a dragon T-shirt.

 

14) The thing you remember most about 9/11 is that you scored three touchdowns in flag football.

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Live Tweeting Thanksgiving

  • Just arrived at Aunt Carol’s house. Ready for some T-Givs! #foodcoma
  • Bringing new GF Sarah to meet the fam. #pressure
  • Aunt Carol’s dog, Roscoe, jumped on Sarah. Muddy paws. Sarah upset.
  • She’s fighting back tears. Hang in there trooper! #hero
  • It’s the fam! Theyre excited to meet S. She’s still upset about muddy dress.
  • Sarah trying to joke it off. Jokes lame. Blank stares from fam.
  • She’s still going with the jokes. Let it go! #deadhorse
  • Wow. Now doing Roscoe impersonation.
  • Why does Roscoe have a Scottish accent? He’s a beagle. Kids like it.
  • Boom! S nails the end with an Occupy Wall St. joke.
  • Both Dems and Repubs can laugh at that one. #buildingbridges
  • Women take S to kitchen. I’m off to watch some football, y’all!
  • Megatron TD just killed my fantasy team, The Pigskin Poopchutes
  • S is trapped in kitchen. Aunt Winnie won’t stop talking about her psoriasis. Here we go.
  • Cousing Freda sees her psoriasis and raisies her a boil on her inner thigh. #gauntletthrown
  • Great Aunt Gladys brings down house by unveiling her new, high capacity colostomy bag. #gameover
  • Dinner time! First the prayer! So much to be thankful for this year!
  • Uncle Ray taking prayer in weird direction this year.
  • Keeps thanking Lord for the show King of Queens
  • Still praising the work of Kevin James #HaveyouseenPaulBlart
  • Asking God to smite those who gave poor reviews to Zookeeper
  • Prayer over. Just bought King of Queens Blu-Ray for Uncle Ray’s X-mas. #amazon
  • Food’s on! Buffet style! Get in line or get left behind!
  • Everything has a weird color to it. #somethingswrong
  • Oh great! Aunt Carol went vegan. Everything’s made of tofu!
  • Even the turkey is tofu! How’d they do that?
  • Tofu is the turkey meat, turkey bones are made of carrot sticks. Stuffing is bean sprouts.
  • Cousing Richie has an announcement!
  • I have this year as the year he comes out in the family pool! #yourefoolingnobody
  • Not coming out, but says he’s opening a shop that only sells afghans. That has to be worth some money, right?
  • Sarah having a great time. What a great day!
  • Sarah forgot the dessert in the car.
  • Look out for Roscoe!
  • Dress torn. Underwear revealed. Sarah locked herself in car.
  • She’s upset. I can hear the Michael Buble blaring from here.
  • Grabbing to-go plates and saying goodbye to fam!
  • Let’s do this next year!!!!!
  • Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!!

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If I Only Had A Part (A Guest Post By Jessie Stegner)

Hey gang. Jessie Stegner was kind enough to do another guest post for me. For those of you not familiar with Jessie, you make me sick.

Just who do you think you are?

But, I’ll give you some info anyways. Jessie is a very funny lady right here in Chicago who you can find doing improv, sketch, and making decorative canoes. I’m still fact-checking that last one, but I’ll leave it up for now.

If you want more of Jessie:

Jessie and Matt’s Podcast: Check out this week’s guest, Mike Sacks! http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/jessie-and-matts-podcast/id401147975

Jessie’s Blog:  http://jessiestegner.tumblr.com/

Jessie’s Travel Articles: upchicago.com

If I Only Had a Part

By Jessie Stegner

There are certain moments in our lives we will never forget. Events that shape us and make us who we are. Moments that define us as people. For some they may be a big move, the beginning of a relationship, a career change or loss of a loved one. For me, one of those monumental and life altering events was Sierra Madre Elementary School’s sixth grade play of 1997.

The Wiz of L.A. was a comical interpretation of the The Wizard of OZ written by a few of our faculty members. It contained hilarious spoofs on Baum’s classic including the Wizard singing “The Great Pretender,” Glinda the Good Witch doing a tap dance and the Ozians (or L.A. citizens in our version) performing “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” led by a kid with a Rastafarian wig (remember, it was the 90’s). The Wiz was a highly anticipated end of the year production and the last big hurrah before graduation. It was a big deal for everyone. And I, certainly, was no exception.

Now let me get one thing straight. Even as an 11 year old, I took acting very seriously. For every school production I had a neatly organized script with post-its to differentiate scenes and perfectly highlighted lines. I attended summer musical theatre camps in which I was always put in the front row of the dances because I sang loudly and with a large smile just as instructed (unless of course it was the finale song like “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from the musical Carousel, which clearly I made the perfect somber yet hopeful expression). I had past TONY award shows recorded on VHS that I would watch and re-watch to learn choreography and lyrics of the musical segments. This was not just some hopeful kid wishing the auditors would discover a diamond in the rough. There was no rough. This was talent that had been molded. Talent that had been shaped. As far as I was concerned I was going to get a lead because, quite simply, I was the best person they had.

I was convinced that getting a role in this show meant more than what it really did. I thought that by getting a lead, it would prove that I was supposed to be an all time famous actress. That I was going to “make it.” Every professional actor I had met up until this point instilled in me how hard it was, the immense amount of rejection and lack of recognition and what an overall horrible business acting was (looking back I was clearly talking to the wrong actors; jaded ones with bad attitudes that forgot why they began acting in the first place). I knew at a young age that performing was something I wanted to spend my life doing and getting a part in this play meant I was good enough to do so.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. That is, until it was revealed how the show would be cast. Everyone interested in a certain part would sing a section of that character’s song in front of the class. Our teacher would then pick 3 or 4 who were called back for the role. THEN, in an unbelievable turn of events, the class would vote on who should play it. VOTE. Oh yes. A complete juxtaposition of every audition I had ever been a part of. All of a sudden it was no longer about talent or song execution or character interpretation (which, clearly, I had). It was about who was the most popular kid. I was shocked. I was mortified. I was pissed.

I sang for numerous parts and got called back for a few but couldn’t quite clench a role. Dorothy went to Christina who had perfectly straight hair, a miraculous hourglass figure for a pre-teen and a nose I was all too envious of. The Scarecrow went to Kenny, the good looking brunette boy that every girl had a crush on either because of his dreamy brown eyes or the fact that he was the first to have noticeable facial hair. And I’m pretty sure Jessica got the role of the Good Witch because she brought in her own tap shoes for the callback (of course someone tapping in actual tap shoes is going to look better doing it than those of us that didn’t. Sheesh).

It all came down to the Tin Man. Adrian, Kristine and I were the last ones standing. We were asked to sing and do the choreography to the Tin Man’s big number “If I Were a Rich Man” from Fiddler on the Roof (In our version the Tin Man wanted money instead of a heart. I know, comedy gold, right?). After our respective performances, the three of us were taken outside while the voting took place. As we waited, I can remember knowing my fate was sealed. When we reentered the room Adrian’s name was called. I was crushed. I held it together at the time. Just waiting for school to end so I could go home and cry alone in peace. But before I could leave my teacher called me to his desk. He wanted to give me a pep talk. It was sub par at best. I remember him half-heartedly patting my shoulder and saying something about how there would be lots of little parts with lines I would be up for. He noticed I was avoiding eye contact and said, “You’re not going to cry are you?” Being the person that I am I said, “Yea I probably am.” It seemed as this came as a shock to him, which it shouldn’t have had he seen my trapper keeper full of Dorothy pictures I spent hours downloading from the internet (literally hours, internet was so slow then, remember?) and clearly written out dance steps to the group numbers we had already learned. But he didn’t so that was the best consolation I was going to receive in Bungalow 6 that day.

When I was finally out of his sight I ran to my Dad who was picking me up from school that day. I cried harder than I ever remember crying in my entire life. Just bawling. If I could give sixth grade Jessie a hug right now I would. My Dad didn’t say a word. He just held me tight until we got to the car. I was so ashamed. Here was this thing. Here was the only thing I ever knew I wanted to do sitting right in front of me. And I didn’t get it not because I didn’t do well. It was because no boys thought I was cute and I wore vests to hide my tender and annoyingly ever-growing chest. Because I had thick bushy eyebrows and a tummy and permanent bad breath from the lack of understanding of how to get food out of my brand new braces. Maybe even partly because I took the audition too seriously. It was one of the toughest lessons a kid can learn: Life isn’t fair.

Luckily I woke up the next day and, despite my certainty, the world hadn’t ended. The play was over soon as was my time at the little school in the foothills. And then a miraculous thing happened. There was another play. And then another. Even more in high school. And college? College was spilling with opportunities. I figured out somewhere between my 8th grade performance in Kilroy Was Here and our college’s fringe festival production of Angels in America that life, no matter how unfair it is, keeps going.

I am a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. I had to not get that part to get all the others. Someone had to not believe in me to force me to believe in myself. And I had to run bawling out of the sixth grade bungalow to realize how inconsequential some things in life really are.

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What’s Going On?

Hey faithful readers,

 

You may have noticed a recent slow down in new entries being posted to the old blog. You didn’t? Okay. I’m gonna finish this thought just the same. My schedule has been a little different lately and the blog was the first to suffer. The second was the U.S. economy. I didn’t realize the power I wield.

 

In addition, I’ve been submitting material for publication and none of that material can appear on the blog until it’s 100% rejected and I learn to take “no” for an answer.

 

So while I wait for some responses from those big publishing fat cats while they dine on pheasant in the Hamptons, I decided to open up the old mailbag and read some questions and post the answers for everyone to read. Huzzah!!!!

 

So here we go:

 

Q: What does Brain For Thought stand for anyways? (Adam, Mt. Roscoe, WA)

A: “Brain For Thought” is a reference to J.R.R Tolkien, who described the phrase as “The most beautiful three words ever conceived”. However, he later changed his mind and gave this honor to “Cellar Door”, but this was heavily scrutinized after he went on the payroll of Jim Rosen’s Cellar Doors and Basement Repair.

 

Q: Do you ever think you’ll give up blogging? (Cecily, Shreveport, LA)

A: It’s hard to foresee. Maybe as part of a Mexican standoff where a Croatian man has a knife held to a baby, perhaps the world’s smartest baby, and he demands that I stop blogging or the unthinkable happens. In that scenario, I would proabably yell “Look out behind you!”, and then run away. Or if I got some finger disease. Then I would stop blogging.

 

Q: When will you accept your responsibilities? I deserve that much. (Tina, the mother of your child, Tyler, TX)

A: What happens at a mutual friend named Simon’s annual pool party/Wii bowling tournament in Blue Springs, Missouri stays at a mutual friend named Simon’s annual pool party/Wii bowling tournament outside Blue Springs, Missouri.

 

Have any questions you would like answered? Post them in the comments below.

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Ice Cream Guest Post

Hey Friends,

I did a guest post for my friend Ilana Plen at her Tumblr blog, which chronicles her journey of eating ice cream for thirty days straight. Check out my post here: http://projecticecream.tumblr.com/post/8129929735/day-37-another-guest-post

 

Warren

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To the Love of My Life

My Dearest,

My heart is filled with grief. No person should ever have to write what I am about to put to paper, but only a coward shies away from the hard times in life that ultimately define us all. As I write this, I am perched upon the edge of our Tempurpedic love-nest, studying every detail of your delicate beauty and fighting back my persistent tears. For you see, this is the end. While we both knew this day was inevitable, that knowledge has done nothing to lessen the pain in my soul. So while our love has soared to new heights over the last few months, it officially crashed to Earth at 10:14 AM Pacific time when a Player’s Union rep announced that we would have professional football, thereby making autumn complete and ripping your husband from your love’s embrace.

You have made me a better man since my life was nearly destroyed in late March. Make no mistake, I was swept up by our daily existential discussions on man’s place in the universe, our exploration into cooking as an erotic outlet, and our nude, tantric yoga in the backyard. And while our souls connected and my mind became one with yours, some part of my subconscious was still craving the fulfillment that one can only get when your Z receiver runs a flawless thirty yard out pattern after a tight end, mostly know for his pass-catching ability, perfectly seals off a running lane. These plays can define a season.

I know this isn’t easy for you to hear. Try to think of it this way: you’re not losing your husband, you’re also losing the use of the TV on Sundays. Unfortunately, this also means that I will be unavailable for our Cartography class at the community center.

I believe it was Voltaire who said “Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them.” Honestly, I can only say that I “believe” it was Voltaire since I can already feel my new-found knowledge leaving me, only to be replaced by NFC West statistics and potential draft scenarios for my Yahoo! fantasy football league.

Do not think that the summer has been a complete waste. When the skies turn gray and the wild card scenarios take shape, think back to our outings to Tilles Park where we listened to classical music while enjoying duck sausage and exotic cheeses, many of which I would like to experiment with this season in finally making what I consider “The Perfect Nachos”.

By the time you awake, the change will be complete. I can feel it growing faster inside me now. When you come downstairs, I will no longer be wearing the silk pajamas you bought me on our trip to Milan. Instead, they have been replaced with a “Property of the Green Bay Packers” t-shirt and boxer shorts with a dangerously frayed crotch.

I will always love you and GO PACKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!

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