Dear Hollywood,

I wouldn’t call myself a “party animal” under any circumstances, but I’ve been to a few parties at friends’ apartments to know how they generally work.

People don’t dance at parties in people’s apartments. So while the camera is focused on the main characters having a conversation off to the side, don’t bother having dozens of extras dancing in the background. Who even has room in their apartment for large groups of people (including white people) to dance?

Again, no one dances at parties in people’s apartments. It is lame and distracting for me, the viewer.

All I ask is that you keep this in mind.

Best,
Craig

* * *

Dear Building Maintenance Staff,

Thank you very much for the freshly-scented urinal patties! It was a pleasant surprise when I came to work this morning!

How about having them all year round?

Thanks!

Love,
Craig

* * *

To the Lovely and Talented Trainer Bob,

I love you. I would do many, many things to you. But what is with your hair this season of “The Biggest Loser”? It’s like a gay mullet! (Thankfully not a lesbian mullet though, known to many lesbians simply as “haircut”.)

It’s a good thing Trainer Jill is gone, because if she saw your hair, she would scream like a wild banshee and kick your ass. And then probably spit on you.

Be mine,
Craig

* * *

Dear 3rd Grade Teacher,

Thank you for teaching me cursive.

I never use it.

Best always,
Craig

* * *

Dear Doctors Office,

Thank you for giving me medicine that made me feel better!

Next time, if you want to call me into the room at 12, how about we make my appointment at 12 instead of 11:15. Just a suggestion.

Thanks again for the medicine!

Sincerely,
Craig

* * *

Dear Future Self,

Looking good!

A word of advice, don’t fall asleep on the train with a cough drop in your mouth; no matter how much better it feels to not cough every two seconds. You may or may not wake up drooling a sticky red liquid on your adorable powder blue button down. It also may or may not be a pain in the ass to get out.

Stay beautiful,
Craig

I don’t know about you folks, but I’ve noticed an increase in hot older men. Let’s check it out (In no particular order):

Hot man: Daniel Craig
What makes him so damn hot?: What kind of question is that!? Have you seen the new James Bond movie? No man could look as downright sexy as Daniel Craig while sitting naked in a bottomless chair having his testicles whacked! Best. Movie. Ever.

Hot man: Gordon Ramsey
What makes him so damn hot?: Well, I like me a man that can cook, and also, no one else so elegantly use countless dirty words in a regular sentence, leaving me with nothing at the end of said sentence aside from “ohhh Gordon Ramsey…”

Hot man: Edward Norton
What makes him so damn hot?: A better question may be what doesn’t make him hot because World, I can’t find a reason why he’s not. I love everything about this man.

Hot man: Clinton from “What Not to Wear”
What makes him so damn hot?: He is always dressed to impress, and I like a man with good outfits. And he’s funny! He’s giggly! He’s adorable! I love him!

Hot man: Nathan Fillion
What makes him so damn hot?: No one can pull off tight little future/western pants like Captain Malcom Reynolds, no one! No one can pull off hot redneck sherrif fighting an alien invasion like him! If Nathan Fillion came up to me in the street and asked me to marry him, I’d be taken ,guys.

Hot man: Jon Stewart
What makes him so damn hot?: The funny. The funny makes him hot. And I like that he’s just a normal guy, married with some babies and stuff. Sure, he pronounced “sanguine” the wrong way, but it was endearing.

Hot man: Josh Holloway
What makes him so damn hot?: Psha! This man leaves me speechless! All I can say when he’s all shirtless and sweaty and having cage sex on Lost is “Jesus…I love him.” Same for any sane person. Everyone loves him! EVERYONE!

Hot man: Jason Statham
What makes him so damn hot?: Did you see Crank!? Sex in the middle of Chinatown!!!!! That deserves an Academy Award! I’d tap that.

Hot man: Jason Bateman
What makes him so damn hot?: He’s got the nice guy appeal from Arrested Developement and there’s nothing nicer than a nice guy. However, when he goes with that long hair, I throw up a little in my mouth.

Hot man: Hugh Grant
What makes him so damn hot?: British! Arrested for picking up a hooker! I love a man that lives on the edge like that. Even his mug shot looked pretty durn good. Plus, I love him in Love, Actually. He was the effing Prime Minister! Fantastic.

I’m still sick. I stayed home from work today to go to the doctor. I apologize for the lack of funny, but I attribute it to whole sick thing.

I promise I’ll get better soon. The good news is, my abs have never looked better.

Somthing very exciting happened Friday night!

Parker’s (i.e. bowling buddy) mom…

HAD A BABY BOY!

Of course I couldn’t give him a plain, boring baby jacket!

It had to have some pizazz!

Of course, you must put your hair up for any project requiring intense concentration such as this one.

(In a state of complete and utter concentration due to pizazz-erizing baby jacket.)

And the finished project!

(front)

(back)

Add a bow and BAM, that’s an amazing gift/jacket thing!

I’m feeling a bit under the weather and uncreative today. So instead of the mildly amusing post you would normally get, I present you with the following scenario:

You have been wandering in the desert for 5 days. You have just finished off your canteen of water, and your camel Pricilla has collapsed from exhaustion, forcing you to continue on without him. Just when you are about to close your eyes for the big sleep, a Genie appears before you:

“Good day weary traveler! I am a Genie who has come to save you!”

“Do I get three wishes?” you ask.

“No! I will transport you out of the desert, but you will have to pay terrible consequences!” boasted the Genie.

“What kind of Genie are you?” you ask.

“I am an evil Genie!”

“You mean like in the movie Wishmaster?”

“No!” yelled the Genie. “That movie was terrible!”

“Oh”

After ten minutes of awkward silence, the Genie makes his offer.

“I will teleport you out of this desert and back to the comfort of your bed, but you will be marked by one of two things for the rest of your life. You will either have visible farts, causing a greenish-brown haze to surround you every time you fart, or you will have feet so smelly, you will need to wear three pairs of socks under your shoes in public to keep the smell contained. Taking your shoes off during sexy-time will also be extremely awkward! And you may never explain to anyone why you are the way you are! Make your choice, fool!”

What do you choose?

For Thanksgiving every year, I like to go over the things I am most thankful for:

You have to remember the things that make you happy and be thankful of them, the pilgrims had this in mind for a new holiday while giving the native americans small pox infested blankets.

I am thankful for my new kitten, Inky. She’s nice most of the time, and loves me. She even let me wash her with WATER! She didn’t even freak out. She knew she was dirty, and knew it had to be done.

I am thankful for this cool hot dog holder from Goodwill for two fifty nine. I am using it to hold earrings and stuff. Smart Buy!

I’m thankful for perfectly cooked eggs, go Olivia on that one!

I’m thankful to be packing heat. You never know when you’re going to have to shoot a hooligan with your pellet gun.

I’m (VERY) thankful for the new Got Milk? ad. Mm mm good.

Also, indoor plumbing is always something to recognize. It’s fantastic.

I’m thankful for Craig, who began Puntabulous and gave me the oppurtunity to be thankful for him!

Most of all, I’m thankful for my friends, family, and people I don’t know that love me and read Puntabulous and leave lots of comments and tell me randomly that that last blog was funny.

Thanks to everyone, and Happy Thanksgiving!

I love kids. When I was in high school, I taught karate to kids ages 4-6. Some of the parents compared me to Steve from “Blues Clues”. It got me thinking, maybe I should have my own children’s show…

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

A beautiful day for a neighbor.

Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

Won’t you be my neighbor?

Hello neighbor!

How are you today?

Are you ready to have some fun!?

Ding dong!

Who’s that coming out of the magical closet of make believe?

It’s Mr. Dick Head!

I love when Mr. Dick Head comes!

…over to visit!

What brings you here today, Mr. Dick Head?

I’m here to teach the kids about the importance of drinking milk!

That’s great!

Milk is nutritious and delicious.

And delicious!

Woops!

Oh no, Mr. Dick Head! Don’t cry over spilt milk!

It’s okay Mr. Dick Head, it was an accident.

Oh, Mr. Dick Head, you’re so cute I could eat you up!

But I won’t, because eating people is wrong.

See you next time boys and girls!

Mr. Dick Head comes courtesy of Robin and Jenn! And yes, it’s really milk!

The above picture is the only proof that I have as of now to prove that I am the Queen of all that is bowling. See that big smile?! THAT’S THE SMILE OF A WINNER!

I hadn’t been bowling in quite some time, I’d say around six years, so I was eager to take up the offer of my fellow delegates during a recent Model United Nations conference to go show my skillz (with a ‘z’).

Beside me is my dear friend Parker, who looks sad because I was kicking his ass so, so, SO insanely. Like a Puma. Or (and this is my new favorite animal, I think) like a Wampuscat.

You see, at the Bowling Alley there was a giant sign declaring some sort of team the Wampuscats. Now really, what the HELL is a Wampuscat?! Well World, I looked up Wampuscats, and this is what I found: nothing. Nothing at all.

I found a blue picture of a cat and some guy’s album from way back when. Nothing about the six-legged cat that I had heard about!

My point is, you can’t just go out and make up some random animal to represent your team! Not if it’s not on Google! Crazy hillbilly bastards, that’s all I have to say.

Here’s a rundown of this week’s events:

The Good:

I went on a really, really great first date. I was tempted to put another “really” in there, but opted to play it cool instead, since him and his coworkers could potentially be reading this right now.

I went to see “Happy Feet” with the Nerddd and enjoyed myself greatly. She bought me Jacques Torres chocolate! The kind with the peanut butter inside. Yum!

“Casino Royale” opens this weekend and I’m pretty dang excited.

The Bad:

I found out my brother and sister-in-law from Atlanta want to go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while they’re in town next week. I’m not sure if out-of-staters will understand this as much as New Yorkers do, but the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is the worst thing in the whole entire world. It’s freezing and super crowded and you can never see a damn thing. My brother’s from here, he should know better! And somehow I got suckered into taking them to it because I’m familiar with the City. Bah! I am also familiar with giving really great directions. Will that work instead? No.

They want to see the World Trade Center site while they’re in town also. Seriously. Why don’t we just top off the tourista trifecta and take a trip to the top of the Empire State Building!?

The Ugly:

PREFACE:

One time in college, I shaved my chest completely and it was a horrific experience. I felt like a dirty little boy and vowed never to do it again.

CUT TO:

This week, I used electric clippers to thin out my chest hair. I know, I know, BAD IDEA. First off, let me say that I enjoy my chest hair. It isn’t much, just a small patch on the center of my chest, but it was getting a little wild (read: long and curly) and I needed to tone it down a bit. I’m not one of those people that obsessively manscapes. One look at my Peter Gallagher-esque eyebrows proves otherwise, but I just felt that it was something that should be done.

So I decided to use the clippers (on the “2″ setting) to bring it down a notch. Everything went fine until I put a shirt on. Let me tell you, I was in complete and utter agony. I felt like there are hot needles poking the center of my chest. I was scratching non-stop the next day. It was terrible. I don’t get it though. I didn’t cut it THAT short. Why did it itch so much?!

EPILOGUE

The itching has gone and it actually looks pretty good, if I do say so myself (and I do). It almost looks like I have definition in my upper body. Almost.

I filled out four today, and there’s still blanks here and there. And I haven’t done any essays. It’s pretty suckticious.

One of the short-answer questions on the Northwestern application (who knows, worth a shot) is “Which fictional character would you choose for you college roommate and why?”

Hm. Well the obvious answers are Mason from Dead Like Me, Oliver Queen from this season of Smallville, Edward Norton from Fight Club (or any movie aside from the before of him in American History X), Mack/Dennis from Sunny, Peter on Heroes, and Jason Mraz (he’s not fictional, so what). The point is, those would be really, truthful answers. Because to be perfectly honest, I believe they are pretty damn hot.

But I have to think of something deeper, or at least less shallow. I thought of one that would be so super offensive to pretty much everyone I know, but it certainly cracked me up. I might go with Mersault in The Stranger, because that guy is HILARIOUS! Or my mother suggested Gatsby, but I liked him because he sounded pretty hot. I figure I should choose either something from a book to be intellectual sounding or something from a great movie because after all, film will be my major.

I thought about going with Superman, because if you hate him and deny me admission, you hate freedom. And no one wants to be a freedom-hater.

But then it’s like, well Clark Kent, or Superman? And really, both are kind of annoying. So I wouldn’t want to room with them.

The hardest part of this question is the “why” part. Because really, I just want a kick-ass roomate with maybe super powers. Or I’d want to live by myself, maybe get a dog, because honestly, people bug me. So maybe I should go with Buddy from Air Bud. He plays basketball, that’s cool. Or a talking dog, but I’d have to find one.