angryzack – Page 5 – Angry Zack's Anger Diary

There’s Gotta Be a Better Way

Dear Diary …

There’s gotta be a better way.

We have ALL sorts of innovations and technological advances in this world. We’re always figuring out ways to make things easier, faster, and more efficient. But the problem is … we only do that for some things. Other things? Nah … we’ll just leave ‘em that way they are even though they’re horrible.

This is probably TMI. OK … this is definitely TMI … but oh well … sucks for you … I get to have a colonoscopy soon. Yup … TMI … but you’re here now so you might as well see this one thru.

Ugh … and see … that’s the first problem with a colonoscopy … EVERYTHING gets turned into a pun or a joke or whatever. I say, “we might as well see this one thru,” and you say … “Hang on, not so sure I wanna do THAT!”

Alright alright alright … ha ha ha … I get it.

So that’s problem number one … problem number two )yup … see .. there you go again) is that the worst part about a colonoscopy isn’t actually the colonoscopy. I mean, it’s not on my summer bucket list or anything, but it is what it is.

The problem is the preparation for the thing. Because despite all the technological advances in modern medicine in the past 50 years, the only way to apparently have a proper colonoscopy is to be stricken with diarrhea for 24 hours to prepare for it.

Really? This is the only way to do this?

I gotta drink some gigantic jug of terrible tasting poop juice … and then I gotta basically either live on the toilet for a day or play underwear roulette and pray I can make it there in time.

OK … I ain’t no doctor … but I did drive by a hospital the other day … and you mean to tell me there’s no possible better way to do this?

Can’t there be like a laser beam or photon torpedo or microscopic poop robot that can go in and take care of all of this. Hell … I’d even settle for some kind of jacked up vacuum cleaner extension that gets the job done quickly … like you’re putting gas into a NASCAR car … just goin’ in the other direction.

But you know why there isn’t a better way? Because they don’t care if there’s a better way. As long as you show up for your appointment and you’re ready for the procedure, they don’t really care how unpleasant things were for you yesterday. You’re there now and ready for takeoff … that’s all they care about.

Oh and the best part … you’re the one that gets to go buy all the stuff to prepare for this. Lucky you!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

I Am Stupid

Dear Diary …

So here’s what I’m trying to figure out … Who’s stupid? Are we all getting stupider as a society? Or is it just me getting stupider?

Because man … I feel stupid these days. And I don’t know if its just that I’m gettin’ stupid because I’m getting older, or I’ve killed off all my brain cells, or like … COVID or something … but my head just don’t work right no more. God forbid you ask me to read something that’s longer than the label of a shampoo bottle because I can’t … focus. Maybe this is it for me? Maybe I’m on the downward spiral here?

You know what? NO! No I am not. I am fully capable of being a smarty pants, learning things, and remembering stuff. It’s simply that my (and everybody else’s) brain is a lazy, flabby lump that just doesn’t wanna work. Or even worse … it wants to just mess with you.

Think about when you need to remember something. I don’t know about you, but these days if I don’t put a reminder in my phone or on my calendar … it ain’t happening. Couple weeks ago there was some eclipse going on. And I’m a big ol’ dork and I like looking at things like that, so I wanted to check it out.

But at the same time … I’m a big ol’ STUBBORN dork and I decided, “No! I am NOT putting a reminder in my phone to go outside and watch this eclipse. I will NOT give into my brain and so help me GOD I’m gonna remember this!” Nope. Forgot. Not even the teeny tiniest inkling that night of “hey man … got anything you need to remember?”

And I knew my brain wasn’t gonna put in the work, but part of me didn’t care and just wanted to see if it would actually let me down yet again. And yes … yes it would.

But here’s the frustrating and annoying thing … I know darn well my brain CAN remember things. Because you know what I ALWAYS remember? Everything I put on my calendar.

I don’t even need the reminder or notification because my brain is all, “Duh! We knew that already … We don’t need any kind of reminder you idiot!”

But if there is no reminder?

[[[DUMMY SOUNDING MUSIC]]] “Boomp a doomp a doomp … I forgot! You know you should really set a reminder for me so I don’t forget.”

Why do we love screwing with ourselves so much? Screwing with other people? Totally get it! But why are we built to sabotage our own existence?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Line Is the Line

Dear Diary …

Do you know what a line looks like? Now I don’t have a whole lot of faith in people, but I am pretty confident that if I asked you to draw a straight line on a piece of paper, you could do it. Look at you! Who’s the big winner?

OK … so now you have a straight line. So … if I ask you as humans to line up in a straight line, I’d like to think you’d be able to do that as well …. Except … you can’t!

Hey … dodos! If you go somewhere … like …. say … the farmers market and there’s a bunch of people standing in a line waiting for it to open. You don’t just stand there at the entrance to try to sneak your way in!

“Oh! I didn’t realize there was a line!”

What exactly do you think the rest of us are doing over here … organized sunbathing? Waiting for an invisible bus to arrive?

Self checkout at the grocery store is another great example where these shady ignoramuses try to skeet themselves in.

“Oh … were you in line?”

Noooo!! Just loitering. Love loitering.

I get it … you don’t wanna wait in this line. I don’t wanna wait in this line either, but I do. Because that’s what normal humans who contribute to society do.

Moving on Diary … I hate the playground.

And it’s not that I hate the playground ALL the time … sometimes its a great way to toss a couple kids out there and keep ‘em occupied for a while. The problem is when it’s the LURE of the playground as an add-on. So like when I have to drag my butt to a boring ol’ PTA meeting at the school … sit there … listen to talkin’ … vote on stuff … and then all you wanna do afterward is get home because you’ve working all day, and still need to make dinner, and still have laundry, and gotta make lunches for the next day, and the toilets are dirty, and … “Can we stay and play on the playground for a while?”

No … I’m sorry … Mommy and Daddy have a lot of …

“PLEEEEEEASSE??? Everybody else is staying!!”

Yup … don’t mind us. We’ll just sit here … while you have joy. And then we’ll FINALLY get home and immediately be asked, “When’s dinner? I’m hungry!”

Ahhh yes … our little blessings.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

Water Is Stupid

Dear Diary …

I don’t care what science says … water is stupid.

“Oh but it’s the building block of life and you need it to live”

Yeah yeah yeah … I know, but it’s still stupid.

Hate water!

Because here it is, being the building block of life and everything, and then it’s always trying to destroy us and ruin our day at the same time.

If you’re someone who owns a house, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Pretty much all the problems you encounter have something to do with water.

Toilet don’t work. Water.

Ice maker is broken. Water.

Water heater leaking. It’s in the name … Water!

Leaking. That’s the worst. My air conditioning unit is in the attic of my house, and over the weekend I look up … Hey! There’s a bunch of water dripping out of the ceiling! Hooray!

And what drives me crazy is all it took was one random morning and now there’s this big gigantic brown stain of sadness all over the ceiling that makes it look like my house has been rotting since the day “The Wizard of Oz” was released in theaters. So now I gotta paint … which might be the only thing dumber than water.

Hate that brown ring of shame. And I love how we’re all SOOO judgemental about that stain. You go looking at houses for sale and you see anything like that and you’re all, “Oooh … looks like this house has some water damage.”

UHHHH … EVERY HOUSE HAS HAD SOME WATER DAMAGE THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!

I guarantee you the person saying that is currently living in a house with water damage that they’re gonna try to hide from the next person who buys it.

And don’t even get me started about the torrential thunderstorms that start kicking up this time of year and what they mean for the basements of the world.

If you ever hear somebody say, “Oh I just love when we have big thunderstorms. It’s so soothing!”

That’s a person who lives in an apartment, cuz there ain’t nothing soothing about hoping that you’re sump pump doesn’t pick today to die in the corner. Or God forbid the power go out in this storm, cuz now you’re gonna play “water bucket fill-a-thon” until it comes back.

And let me just make an editorial comment about the stupid mail I get from the water company … and the electrical company too … about how I should give them extra money every month because I “own” the equipment that’s on my property and it’s no doubt outdated and falling apart and planning to crap out at any minute.

It’s funny how their definition of “ownership” and mine are totally different. Like … for example … I own my couch. So if I move, I take couch with me.

But I can’t take my electrical box with me, now can I?

But I thought I owned it?

Oh that’s right … I only own the privilege of PAYING for it when it’s broken. Fantastic!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The Reality of Virtual Reality

Dear Diary …

While nobody can predict the future, I do think sometimes you can look at trends and patterns to get a good idea of what is going to happen. Oh who am I kidding? Just look at what rich people are doing and where they’re putting their money … THAT’S how you’re gonna be able to predict the future.

So when I put my “rich people glasses” on I can see that billions and billions of dollars are being invested into a completely different world that will exist in virtual reality. Do I love it? Not really. There’s a pretty good chance it’s going to turn us all into a bunch of helmet-wearing cyborgs that never actually interact in real life, but it also has plenty of amazing potential to change our lives for the better.

And I can say this without a shadow of a doubt … one of those amazing and innovative ways is definitely NOT Gorilla Tag. If you are unfamiliar with Gorilla Tag, it is a game for the Oculus VR headset that is the single biggest scourge on humanity. It’s basically a little world where all the players are gorillas and they’re playing tag … so yeah … Gorilla Tag. And while that name makes total sense in its simplicity, it really is the wrong name for this game, because really what it should be called is “Drive Parents Crazy and Eventually Cost Them Money.”

Why? Because every kid playing is like my kid … crazily swinging his arms all over the place since he’s running around this virtual world like he’s a gorilla. And while I appreciate the fact that he’s actually getting some form of exercise, I don’t appreciate the fact that he has now launched his handheld controls against the wall of my living room on multiple occasions, causing pieces and batteries to fly all over the place.

And you know what happens next with kids … Hey you need to be more careful …

“I KNOW!”

No. You don’t know. Because one of these times your controller is going to smash into bits and be broken.

“NO IT WON’T!”

And you can threaten till you’re blue in the face that if it’s broken it’s not getting repaired or replaced, but you know that never sinks in. Ain’t no kid on the planet that plans one second into their future. All they care about is whatever they can do right in that current instant. (I mean … we do say “live in the moment” all the time, so I guess they have that one figured out.)

Oh and “Drive Parents Crazy and Eventually Cost Them Money” is only one of the potential new names for Gorilla Tag. I’d also like to suggest “Go to the Hospital” because I’ve watched my kid bang his wrists against the living room furniture over and over again to the point that he’s had to lay down on the ground and take a few deep breaths to recover. So I can only imagine that a trip to urgent care is an inevitable part of my future.

That’s the kicker with this stupid virtual reality … they want you to have this gigantic perimeter of free space to be able to play with. I mean sure … Kanye West’s house has big goofy rooms with no furniture in it, but what normal human house has that kind of space? Especially close to a television that people actually use.

So yes my friends … this is our future … being injured while pretending to be fun-loving gorillas and have our Sith Lords Bezos, Musk, and Zuckerberg controlling our every move. So for those of you out there who live out in the boonies, can I just ask … Got any land off the grid I can buy?

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

The Insignificant Champion of the World

Dear Diary …

Over the weekend I went to the Starcade, that’s a retro video arcade with all the old school games. So … while I was there I played Ms. Pacman. Kids … if you’re unfamiliar with Ms. Pacman, it’s just like Fortnite except that it’s absolutely nothing like Fortnite and the graphics are bad and the game is goofy. But when I was kid, it was the best we had and we were freakin’ thrilled to play it.

And Diary … let me just say … I was really flippin’ good at Ms. Pacman back in the day. I’m talking put one quarter in, play for a half hour and destroy the high score (whatever it was). At one point in my life, any time I was in an airport, I would find the random corner where they had a Ms. Pacman video game.

For whatever reason, pretty much every airport had a Ms. Pacman game. So I’d find it on my layover, sit there and crush the high score, and then go on my merry way. I’m dead serious … Philly, Charlotte, Pittsburgh, Boston, Chicago, New York City … your boy Zack Jackson had the high score in all of em.

So I played it again over the weekend … hadn’t really played in years. And let me just say … I am still pretty freakin’ awesome at Ms. Pacman. Didn’t even play my best game and still beat the high score by 100,000 points.

So here’s my question … what the heck, God? This? THIS is my talent? Tom Brady plays football like it’s a symphony. Adele has the voice of an angel. Leo DiCaprio is an amazing actor who creates masterful movies. And here I am … [[MUNCH MUNCH MUCH]] … gobblin’ up little white pellets on an old ass computer screen from an obsolete game from 1984. Whoopity doo!!!

I mean God forbid I have that skill be applied to like … oh I don’t know … managing my financial portfolio. Or at the very least something useful like how to fix the stupid water dispenser on my fridge that’s broken right now. Nahhh … [[MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH]]

And furthermore … why is it that 30 years later my brain can still remember how to crush a game of Ms. Pacman but I can’t remember pick my kid up from school on time without setting an alarm? You know … for an organ that claims to be the smartest one in our body … the brain really is a stupid squishy blob of idiot a lot of the time.

This is why I drink. Not because it does my brain any good … but if that thing isn’t going to apply itself anyway and use any of the available brain cells, who really cares if I kill them with a few gin and tonics? Thanks for nothing brain!

Till next time Diary … I say … goodbye.

Cutting Tall People Down to Size

Dear Diary …

I’ve had it with tall people. Y’all gots to go.

And I know what you’re gonna say …

[high pitched and whiny] “WHY???? We can’t control it”

Actually … let me give it more of a tall people voice …

[deeper] “Why? We can’t control it”

That might be the case … but I don’t see any of y’all crouching down to get out of the way either.

Because what I see instead when I go to a concert … and specifically I’m talking about a concert with no seats … you’re all just in there together … fighting for position …

All I see … Is your head. Your big ol’ head … rising above everybody else’s …

And typically that head is located directly in front of me. I don’t know what it is … these gigantors always seem to find me and plop their Abominable Snowman selves right in front of me.

And I know we’re all about inclusion and accepting everybody … so fine … I accept you … ridiculously tall person … but you’re gonna just need to have your own area. You don’t get to hang out with the rest of us regular sized people … because you don’t operate with any “gigantor awareness.”

Like why you standing right in the middle of the crowd and up at the front? You’re blocking at least a hundred people behind you with your skull. Ain’t there a wall somewhere you can stand up against? You don’t need to be that close … you can see just fine a little further back … you know … like a giant bird on a perch or whatever.

But noooooo …. You gotta stand there in the way, “I wanna stand here.” No crouchin’ … no slouchin’ … just towering over everyone else. And usually rubbin’ it in … last show I went to … trapped behind a woman who was at least 6’2” or 6’3” … AND … she had big thick boots on that added a couple more inches … AND … was standing on her tiptoes … AND jumping up and down as high as she could … over and over again.

Sorry all you Groots out there … you need your own “tall people section” or something … cuz the rest of us are sick of the back of your head.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The Parking Lot Waltz

Dear Diary …

I don’t mind a little singin’ and dancin’ … granted I can’t even figure out how to properly Floss, but if you can pull it off … more power to ya. That said … there’s a time and a place for singin’ and dancin’ … especially dancin’ … and that place is NOT the parking lot at the grocery store.

And I know what you’re thinking … “Who’s twerking in the parking lot at the grocery store?” First of all … nobody. Second … that one I’d probably be OK with … because what I’m not OK with is the parking lot waltz.

You know the parking lot waltz … even if you don’t think you do.

It’s when you’re trying to drive to a parking space, and the person walking in front of your car in your way is [[music]] … doing a long … slow … diagonal waltz thru the parking lot. Not a care in the world. And clearly not in a hurry to get anywhere.

You JUST saw me one second ago when you walked in front of my car … but now … [[music]] … that car must’ve just disappeared behind me.

Look … I don’t advocate for running anybody over … but somebody like this at least deserves a light tap to remind them that they are on foot and may want to get out of the way of the giant car. I’m just looking for a little hustle, man. Well … that and a straight line. Walk in it.

Moving on Diary …

I understand this is irrational anger … OK … everything in the Anger Diary is irrational anger … so too bad … we’re here now … I hate “mug cake.” That’s right … mug cake! Really I hate any time the kids discover some sort of food and drink concoction online and then start trashing my kitchen with it, but mug cake is the WORST. Because now they basically just dump some flour, sugar, and chocolate into a mug … and onto the counter … and onto the floor. And then heat it up in the microwave to explode everywhere and make a giant mess.

And somehow they think mug cake also defies the laws of snacks and desserts. Two o’clock in the afternoon …

“What are you doing?”

“Making mug cake.”

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. That’s not a snack. That’s a dessert.”

“Yeah but it’s mug cake.”

Hate you mug cake! And especially hate you afterward because that black, over-microwaved chocolate never wants to come off any of the mugs. And yes … I know the kids should clean it themselves, but they conveniently “forget” every single time.

If I told them, I’ll give you $20 if you remind me at exactly 8:47 two weeks from next Thursday … oh they got that one memorized … but “rinse your dishes” … [charlie brown mumbles]

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Zack’s Solves the Supply Chain Crisis

Zack Solves the Supply Chain

Dear Diary …

I am here today to solve the global supply chain crisis. That’s right. ME! Not our world leaders or tech CEO Gods … they’re all busy fightin’ each other or flyin’ into space or whatever. So instead you get … this guy … radio man in southwest Virginia. And while that doesn’t seem like a big enough man for the job, sometimes it just takes one little guy to make a big difference.

OK … here goes … here’s how we solve the supply chain issues …

Stop making new stuff.

There you go … problem solved!

Here’s a little pro tip from a total amateur … if you’re the company that makes Triscuits. And you can’t keep regular Triscuits on the shelves … you don’t need to introduce things like pumpkin spice flavored Triscuits. Nobody wants those anyway!

Just make … gasp … regular Triscuits. In this time of crisis, ain’t nobody looking for “cracked black pepper” anyway.

And if you make white chocolate flavored anything … just stop. The world don’t want your flavor. Spend that time making regular chocolate or just branch out and make car microchips or something. We need those way more than white chocolate anyway.

People … there’s a reason why we’re never out of cauliflower crust pizzas at the store … they’re stupid! Just make the things we actually want and need … and then maybe someday down the road you can have silly extra side products.

And for the love of God we need more regular alcohol at the store! Have you watched the news sober? OK to be fair I don’t recommend watching the news drunk either … but you definitely don’t wanna watch it sober.

We don’t need cotton candy flavored vodka right now … we need whiskey. More whiskey!

There. Supply chain crisis solved. If you’re a company that makes something people want or need … just make it. Don’t be wasting your time on flashy “new and improved” stuff. We just want “old and the same” and we want to see it on the shelves when we get there.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Not Speedy Delivery

Dear Diary …

You know how they say “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?” Now I will agree … that’s a situation I don’t wanna be in where scorned lady is mad at me, but I’ll take it over another experience. Because the true phrase of misery should be, “hell hath no fury like a child who is expecting a package in the mail and it hasn’t arrived yet.”

You wanna talk about agony!! And not for them and their impatient little brains, for YOU while you have to deal with the constant … “It’s not here yet … when is going to get here?”

I DO NOT CONTROL THE UPS DELIVERY SCHEDULE!!!

“Yeah but it says it will be delivered today.”

OK well it’s 2pm … so today is not over yet.

“Well what time will it be here?”

I am not the wizard of package tracking!!!! I don’t know. Don’t ask!

Man … don’t you miss the good ol’ days of when you were actually excited for mail? When I was a kid … oh there was no greater joy than an envelope with your name on it. You saw that mailman comin’ and you were excited.

Now? I want him off my property because anything with your name on it is either a bill or a coupon for new gutters. Hooray!

There’s so many differences between being a kid and being an adult. Like … if I’m eating a meal, and I say “oooof … man … I am STUFFED.” You know what that means? It means I am stuffed and I don’t need any more food.

But last night when my son pushes his plate away and says, “Man I’m stuffed,” the next step is to the freezer to get himself a BIIIIIG bowl of ice cream.

I thought you said you were stuffed?

“Yeah but this is dessert.”

I don’t care if it’s dessert … and I really don’t even mind if you eat it, but don’t lie to me like I’m some kind of dodo that actually believes you when you say you’re full. I’m quite certain, so kid under the age of 12 has ever correctly used the phrase “I’m full” in the history of time. Because what they actually mean is “I don’t want to eat any more of this healthier food you’re trying to give me … I want brownies now.

So just say that … at least that way I don’t feel like you’re trying to dupe me as the oblivious parent who falls for your line of deception. Just say that you want dessert!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.