Lazy Brain and Double Standards

Dear Diary …

As we all make our way through this world, there are so many challenges and obstacles to overcome. People … opportunities … shoot even just bad luck. And as if all of those things aren’t hard enough, then you gotta deal with your biggest enemy of them all … yourself. Specifically … your brain.

Man … why your brain gotta do you like that? You work so hard to overcome all these other things … and you’d think your own brain would be Team You, but that dastardly veiny little thing is the worst!

For example … Diary … as I write in you write now … You know what I wanna do? Not this! All my brain says is … “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

Now … at 5am … when I was busy with all sorts of other things … My brain was all gung-ho “Hey … I wanna write in the Anger Diary! MHAHAHAAHH!!!”

It always wants to do something else. I bring up 5am, because that’s the time my brain really wants to go to the gym. Can’t go then, but later in the day, when I’m done with work and can actually go to the gym …

“I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

I tell you what … I think my brain is messing with me at 5am because it KNOWS I can’t go to the gym them. It doesn’t REALLY wanna go to the gym, it just toys with my emotions at a time that it knows it can get away with it.”

Cuz guess what? On Saturday at 5am … “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I wanna do something else.”

You little jerk!

Oh and forget being on a diet … your brain starts off all “Yeah … we can totally do this. Mind over matter!”

Then as soon as he gets the chance “Mmmm … potato chip … Potato chip … Om nom nom!”

Mind over matter. We all need to start rootin’ for matter, cuz mind is screwin’ us over!

OK … moving on Diary …

Double standards … You know, where one rule is applied to one group of people, but is then different for another group … Yeah, they’re wrong for the most part.

I mean, like, I as a man think it’s crap that a woman can pretty much do whatever she wants if the man in her relationship has “wronged” her. Key his car, burn his stuff, trash his reputation. It’s all fair game. And not only is it OK … there’s songs written about it that make people lots of money.

Oh but flip that around and man does all those things to his girlfriend … Hello prison!

It goes both ways though. Women … you should be furious at the double standard that men can hook up with as many chicks as they want … and they’re a stud. YOU do that … Everybody says you got herpes. Totally unfair!

That said … some double standards are OK.

Like when you’re a parent and dealing with kids … You’re totally allowed to pull that “Do as I say, not as I do” card. Like the other day, my son wanted his iPad. Well guess what … It wasn’t iPad time. And pay no attention to the fact that I was using an iPad while I was telling him this. Rule don’t count for Daddy. I paid my dues. And I paid for iPads. So step off!

Another time double standards are OK are with words. I know they’re just words, but when crafted together, they can become very powerful. That’s why I think it’s important to have double standards with them. Like … women can say certain words, while men absolutely should not say the same words.

“I sleep naked.”

When a woman says that … Bravo sister! Girl power! You are cute!

A man? Ewww. Like your whole house to me is a motel bedspread. No thank you!

Here’s another one …

“I just love children.”

Yeah … I don’t need to elaborate there.

“Spoon me.”

No self-respecting man on Earth would say “spoon me.” So yeah … sometimes a double standard is perfectly OK.

Till next time Diary, I say … goodbye.


2015 Graduation Manifesto

Dear Diary …

Here we are … at the time of year when many of the young minions of Zackmerica make that fateful walk down the aisle away from childhood and into young adulthood. Graduation season is here. And notice that I don’t say “Dads and Grads Season” … cuz as a father … Father’s Day gets the shaft as it is compared to Mother’s Day, and I re-FUSE to let you lump me and all the other Dads in with grads just because it happens to rhyme. But that’s for a different Anger Diary … back to the graduates.

Because another thing you see this time of year is different celebrities giving graduation speeches at colleges and high schools throughout the county. And since nobody’s offering me these speaking gigs … I’m gonna just do it here.

For the record I’m not angling for an invitation to speak … I don’t really like leaving the house … so don’t offer. Also … I’m gonna be the one that tells the truth … the cold hard truth … so your school probably wouldn’t like the dose of reality I’d give you anyway. Plus … I’d hate it if only one lucky school got my wisdom, and I would deprive all the other schools. So if I give it to you here, then EVERY school gets it.

So without further ado, here’s my advice to graduating seniors everywhere … DON’T LEAVE!!!! The world is a terrible place where they make you do responsible things and fun goes to die! OK first I should probably … breathe. Second … I should probably clarify before we go any further … that advice applies to college. High school? Adios suckas! You’re on to bigger and better things. Forget that place!

I mean … high school was FINE … but college … I don’t wanna bum you out or nothin’, but those are the best years of your life. It’s all downhill from there baby!

I mean … yeah … you get to do all these exciting things in your life like get married, have kids, have a career, blah blah blah. But college really is this glorious time where you have minimal responsibility mixed with just the right amount of independence that allows you to play video games 7 hours a day, as well as two or three solid nights a week of beer pong. All while not really being bothered by anyone.

And your metabolism? Oh my God, I might miss that more than anything. Come home from a night of fun .. eat a calzone at three o’clock in the morning … wake up at noon … do it all again the next day. Now I inhale the smell of a calzone … “Oh that acid is gonna give me heartburn!” And not just the heartburn, let’s not forget the general fatitude that it’s going to cause on my Dad Bod at the same time. College … you can eat calzones three times a day and you look exactly the same. Adulthood … you know what you get? Diabetes.

The other thing that college has that you’re never gonna have again is immediate access to a social circle with a seemingly endless supply of new friends and love interests. College was that time where I felt like you met new people ALL the time. Some of ‘em became lifelong friends, others just became topless friends that you saw once or twice and then can’t even remember their names today. Yeah … that all gone.

Now you to go places like “work” … and then you go home. So the friends you got … that’s all you got. Now I’m not saying it’s IMPOSSIBLE to meet new people, but they aren’t just layin’ around all over the place like they used to. Now you gotta actually make an effort and say things like “Hello … Perhaps we should hang out socially some time? That would be lovely.”

And later you have kids …. forget it. Now you only hang out with the parents of kids that your kids are friends with. So you barely even like these people, but you have no choice because your little booger eaters are on the same soccer team, and they have a trampoline in their backyard and your kid wants to jump on it. So now your conversations are even worse, “Oh and what do you do for work?’ “Oh that’s nice … um … OK that’s all I got.” That’s what your life becomes.

Now I know what you’re thinking … “This is terrible advice!”

But it’s not. This is what the real world is like kiddoes. And the reason I tell you this is not to scare you, but to make you realize that you don’t need to be in such a darn hurry to grow up. I hear it all the time from these college kids “Oh I can’t wait to get out of here … I’m so done with college.”

Oh you precious … precious little … IDIOT! You have no idea what you’re leaving right now … stop trying to leave it so quickly! You got your whole stinkin’ life to grow up … sit back and enjoy the awesomeness that is your time right now and you can deal with the rest of it later. That, my friends, is your REAL graduation advice.

Till next time Diary .. I say … Goodbye.

Facebook the Sewer

Dear Diary …

Facebook is an amazing thing. It has revolutionized the way we communicate, and really has helped make the world become a better place. Oh who am I kidding? It’s a sewer! Like straight from the sewage treatment plant, festering full of every human germ of the world, and all the horrible things we say and do. It’s terrible!

Diary … I don’t even like talking to people, but Facebook has made even ME long for the days when all we did was talk face to actual human face, and not on some cesspool of a website that has become this place for everybody to spend all day whining and complaining about every little thing in their life.

And the biggest problem I have, is that it’s made people feel WAY too important. They think they’re like, Kings and Queens of their own little Kingdom … lording over their flock of dedicated Facebook friends.

Acting all important … like we’re all sooooo privileged to hear about your daily whining about your sinus infection, or about how one of Logan’s teachers was mean to him, or how it’s 32 days till your big beach trip.

Look … it’s fine if that’s the stuff you wanna post. I don’t care. The problem is that you THINK I care. That’s what always drives me nuts when I see this message …

“Just a did a big Facebook purge on my friends list. Congrats on making the cut.”

You know what? When I see that message, I’m actually BUMMED that I made the cut. And what are all of us supposed to say … those of us that made this magical cut?

“Oh thank you Lord of the Facebook for allowing me to still see your posts about how you wish it was Friday already and how you only got 3 hours of sleep last night. Rejoice to thee that I can be one of your chosen ones!”

Need I remind you that there’s only one true King … ME. King Zack. Nobody else.

So go ahead and post your little insignificant things. Just remember that’s exactly what they are … insignificant.

OK … moving on Diary …

The warm weather is finally creeping in, and soon we’ll be smack dab in the middle of the hot days of the summer time. So with that in mind, I offer everyone a piece of advice … especially men.

When inevitably somebody comes to your door … pizza guy, FedEx person, random kid selling coupon books for his school … can you please do us all a favor and put a shirt on before you open the door?

What sane person answers a door shirtless?

Immediately the whole normal balance of society and social interaction is thrown off. You have no shirt on!

I know you might be hot … but human beings put shirts on before they answer the door. Especially for strangers!

I really do feel for delivery people … the stuff they have to see .. stuff they don’t even wanna see … stuff they can’t un-see. Why are you doing this to them?

And they must be amazingly strong individuals, because how is it that we don’t hear more stories in the news like “Longtime pizza delivery guy decides he can’t take it anymore and stabs his own eyes out?”

I don’t care what anybody does in the privacy of their own home. Sit around shirtless … smoke weed … marry a goat … whatever. As long as it don’t affect me, then I don’t care. But when you cross that plane … the doorway of your house … that’s the threshhold to the outside world and society. Put a dang shirt on!

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

No Hustle

Dear Diary …

We’re all in this together, right? The world is a crazy place. So if we don’t have each other’s backs … we’re screwed! Right?

It seems like the obvious answer to these questions is “yes … we’re all in this together,” but if we are, then why are so many of you showing no hustle when it comes to a green arrow?

You know … green arrow … at a traffic light. The quickest of the traffic lights. So when that thing turns green … you gotta punch it Margaret and show me some hustle so we can all make it thru this stinkin’ light together!

And this seems like common sense, but all last week I’m just trapped behind … slow … and … steady … take … my … time. C’mon man … I wanna get thru this light too! Move it!

Nobody hustles anymore … for anything.

At work … doo bee doo bee doo … doin’ my job … as slow as possible.

Crossing the street … walkin’ reaaaal … sloowwwwww

Pick up the pace slackers! You don’t have to move all crazy, but we’re on this Earth for a limited about of time, I don’t wanna spend my precious time waiting for your meatball sub legs to walk across the street. Hustle!

OK … moving on Diary …

I’m pretty sure every kid on Earth has the same thought about their parents … That they’re idiots. They all think we’re just dumb, oblivious humanoids that were only put on this Earth to make rules and mow the lawn.

I know that’s what my kids think … that I’m some fool that falls for their little games.

Like my son … he’s three … and he thinks he’s tricking me into giving him milk at times he’s not supposed to ask for milk.

Cuz what he does is he doesn’t directly ask for milk … he just says …

“Hey what’s in da refrigerator?”

I don’t know, what’s in there?

“Is it milk? You got milk in there?”

Yes … there’s milk in there.

“Is it cow’s milk? You got cow’s milk in there?”

Fine … here’s your milk. But don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.

My daughter takes a different approach … like when she wants a snack and it’s not snack time …

“Hey Daddy!”


[[[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]]]

What was that?

[[[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]]]

Yeah … I hear Cheez-Its in there. And she just points her little finger at the box. [[[Mumble mumble Cheez-Its?]]

Fine … here’s your Cheez-Its. But again … let me be clear … you ain’t tricking me into this. I’m giving you these things because I choose to give them to you. Not because you’ve … [[robot voice]] tricked … humanoid … robot … Dad … again.

I might be dumb, but I ain’t THAT dumb!

Of course, when you think about it, they are getting exactly what they want at the time they aren’t supposed to have it, so [[[robot voice]] Maybe … I … am … the … idiot.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye

The Best ______ Ever

Dear Diary …

I start this week with a warning, because this is a cautionary tale of trust, and how most people don’t really deserve yours. Here’s the deal … I fashion myself a bit of a foodie. I like food … I like eatin’ it. And I like makin’ it.

So as someone who makes food, I’m always on the lookout for delicious new recipes to try. Enter the internet … which is a phenomenal place to find recipes. In theory. The problem being, you don’t know the person on the other end. Much like when you think you’re having sexy chats with a pretty young lady, and turns out that lady is an ugly old dude with a porn-stache who’s got a thing for catfishing unsuspecting men like yourself. That’s what you actually get. So I’ve HEARD of course, because I would NEVER use the internet for naughty things. That’s just … um … wrong or something.

But back to the recipes …

Here’s the wisdom I pass along to you …

Any recipe that is titled “Best ____ Ever” or “Easiest _____ Ever” … anything like that … RUN AWAY! It stinks!

And here’s how you know it stinks … they say it’s the best. Because we can all agree … we got a lotta dumb people in this world … right? Probably more dumb people than there are smart people. So why in the world would we listen to their opinions? They’re dumb! So if they think it’s the “Best Lasagna Ever” … it ain’t. These are paste-eaters we’re talking about here, so clearly they have no taste. They eat paste!

You must get your recipes from a trusted source. And that trusted source is very rarely Pinterest. That place is just chock full of dingalings making lousy food and trying to pass it off as the “Best Ever.”

But I’m a sucker, and I keep going back. Lately I’m on this kick of making things that go in jars … hot sauces, simple syrups, pickles … stuff like that. So I see “Easiest Dill Pickles” ever. Oh and course they say “they are sooooooo delicious.” Excessive use of the letter “O” in their “soooooo” should’ve been a simple tipoff for me, but I dive in anyway.

And what do I end up with Diary? The nastiest jar of pickles I’ve ever tasted in my life. I open this thing … I kid you not … It smells like a horrible combination of dill and farts. And that’s what it tastes like too … Dill pickle farts. Horrible!

But it’s my own fault for trusting this goofy recipe in the first place. Lousy Pinterest … nothin’ but a bunch of wanna-be food bloggers coming up with their craptastic recipes thinkin’ they’re gonna be the next Rachel Ray. Out you go, Pinterest! Trust noone!

OK … Moving on Diary …

When I am King … as you know there are gonna be sweeping changes … and here’s another one to add to the list …

You know those signs on the highway that tell you the restaurants that are at the next exit? Well they are gonna be required by Zackmerica law to put in BIG writing how far away that restaurant is from the exit.

Yeah … I know they do it when you get OFF the exit, but you’re already committed at that point, so they got you trapped. And I’m done gettin’ trapped.

On my last road trip I pull off to get something … and the place is 3.7 miles away. I’m sorry, but that don’t count as “right off the exit.” And furthermore, I kept track, cuz I was mad, and it was 4.1 miles. So they LIED even!

Hooked and me and got me all ready for a cheeseburger, then dangled that thing in front of my face like donkey and a carrot for 4 stinkin’ miles.

Well no more of this in Zackmerica! You WILL put your distance on the sign BEFORE the exit. And anything over two miles … you ain’t even gettin’ on the sign, cuz you’re too far away! Don’t like it … move closer to the road. The end.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

No Friday Meetings and Your Elf on a Shelf

Dear Diary …

I often talk about how when I become King and Supreme Leader of Zackmerica, there will be TONS of new laws that will go into effect. Well today, I have one that I want to add. But you know what? We don’t even have to wait until King Zack is in charge. Start doing this law IMMEDIATELY!

And here it is … No meetings on Fridays. NONE. EVER! No exceptions and no substitutions!

First of all … let’s just stop lying to ourselves and all admit the truth … nobody works hard on Fridays. OK, you might work hard, but you still work hardER on other days. Case in point? You know what day of the week has the most botched surgeries? Friday! Now that should tell you something. That no matter how important your job is … surgeon for crying out loud … You’re still just a human that wants to kick back and enjoy the freakin’ weekend and you’re not working as hard as you do on Wednesday.

Second … And here’s the real reason why Friday meetings are banned … Your lazy butt had ALL week to get this stuff done, and now all of a sudden you realize “Oh no … it’s Friday and I haven’t done anything all week … I need to have a meeting!”

Oh no … I ain’t gettin’ you off the hook any more there, slacker!

“But it’s important!”

Too bad!

If it was that important, you should’ve gotten your stuff together earlier in the week.

Friday meeting. You ever notice too how they never give you a heads up either? They just come in on Friday … “Hey we need to have a meeting … right now. Meeting … Come on. Conference room.”

Oh awesome! As if I’m just sitting here … doing nothing … thinking to myself “Boy I hope we have a meeting right now so I can have something to do, cuz I was just sitting here doing nothing.”

No more. And I’m drawing a hard line. No slap on the wrist. Cuz then you’ll never learn. So it’s very simple … You call a Friday meeting … Life in prison. Next!

OK … moving on Diary … Like it or not … the holiday season is here. I for one … like it. That said, let me go ahead and just give everybody out there on Facebook a warning … Nobody wants to see pictures of where your Elf on a Shelf ended up last night.

“Oh look at that naughty Elf … he ate all the marshmallows!”

Don’t care!!!

Hey … if that creepy little Elf makes your kids behave at Christmas time. That’s great. That what Cherry Sparkles … yes that’s our Elf … Cherry Sparkles (I know … I didn’t pick the name) … but that’s what she does. So I like her for that, but I don’t need to be punishing the rest of the world with a running newsfeed of all the silly Pinterest-inspired mischief that my Elf was up to last night.

Keep you Elf to yourself! Oooh … that’s catchy! Zack Jackson, you stayed up late comin’ up with THAT piece of comedic gold!

No but seriously … we don’t wanna see your dumb Elf. Stop it.

Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye.

Fast Talking and TV Watching

Dear Diary …

Times change. We evolve. Stuff we used to need at one point in our lives … we don’t need any more. Take the land line for example. You got a cell phone? You don’t need it any more. Sure … there’s exceptions if you live in a bad cell signal area, or you’re just a weirdo that likes being called by telemarketers, but the point is … most of us have evolved beyond it. Typewriter. Gone! No need.

So here’s one I’d like to suggest … It is high time we get rid of these ridiculous disclaimers we force people to put in commercials. Especially car commercials, where I’m of course referring to the part where they start talkingreallyfastandlayingdownabunchofrandomfactsanddetailsthatyoucan’tevenhearorunderstandbecausetheyarebeingsaidsoquickly.

Alright … c’mon … let’s be honest … We have no idea what they’re saying in those things, so why even bother making them say it in the first place? We all know there’s stuff and rules and add-ons for everything in this world. Making them spew it all out as fast as they can isn’t accomplishing anything. We have no idea what they’re saying anyway. So who’s this protecting?

Or even just simpler things. Like can’t we all agree … that we ALL know that “price and participation may vary?” I’m well aware that a cheeseburger at the airport McDonald’s is gonna cost more than the McDonald’s down the street from my house.

I mean, have you ever met someone in your life who’s dense enough to think … “For a limited time only? But I thought this deal would last FOREVER!”

Ugh … what a waste. Get rid of it.

OK … moving on Diary …

First of all … I love television. It’s got everything you want … drama, comedy, reality … pornography. Point is … it’s fun entertainment for whatever you’re into. So what I don’t need, is some sort of holier than thou guilt trip from people who don’t watch TV. Man … they think they’re the smartest people in the room, don’t they?

Oh .. we don’t watch television in our house. Our children have never seen an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.

Well aren’t you special? Funny … I don’t see any trophies on your mantle for winning the “Not Watching Television” Award.

You don’t wanna watch? Fine. But don’t act like it makes you any smarter because you read a book. Cuz you know what’s a book? 50 Shades of Grey. You and I both know you’re reading that, and you’re not reading Kafka over there smarty pants. And yes … I Googled that guy’s name to sound smart! Kafka! Sounds like a fancy Greek yogurt.

Point is … I should not feel guilty that I like TV. And parents .. we’re all terrible at this.

We totally lie to other parents all the time. “Oh we don’t watch THAT much TV in our house. Maybe just an hour.”

Oh whatever … we are all LYING!

You know what? It was a rainy on Sunday … and you know what my kids did? Watched TV. ALL. DAY. LONG. Didn’t even bother to get ‘em dressed either. How ya like me now, you Super Parents?

Furthermore … let me let you in on a little secret when it comes to kids. You know what they want more than anything? The stuff you deprive them of.

Think about THAT next time you try to run your little perfect household of no sins and vices. Your kids are the ones that go buck wild, and then end up in viral videos when they break their arm trying to jump off a roof and into a pool at a Frat party. Great parenting, Mom and Dad!

Just let ’em watch TV. And even if you don’t, just be quiet while I let mine do it.

Till next time Diary … I say .. Goodbye

This State Is Broken

Dear Diary …

Let me start by saying … I like it here. I’ve lived in a bunch of different places, and Virginia is actually my favorite. Funny irony of that, is that when I was in college, I had a roommate with Virginia plates on his car. And I very distinctly remember thinking, “Virginia? Who the heck lives in Virginia? I’ve never met anybody in my whole life from that place. What a weirdo” And poof … here I am … Virginia! (And happy to be on.e)

That said … this state is messed. Oh wait, I’m sorry. This COMMONWEALTH is messed up.

I mean, all last week, everywhere I went, I say police officers just sittin’ there waitin’ … for YOU to speed and for them to write you a ticket. Heck, not even speeding, my wife got stopped one day for a “license check,” which is something I didn’t even know they did. But Meanwhile, you know what was going on around here at the same time? Crime! Have you seen the numbers for the city of Roanoke? Let’s just say … we’re number one, and this is not an award that we want to be winning.

Now I don’t fault the po-po … they’re just doing what their told. But why are they being told to babysit the general public when they should be spending their time stopping actual crime?

Or how about this compromise … you wanna have the police sit in random parking lots waiting for speeders? Then have them do it in bank parking lots, since we seem to love to rob those around here. Ta-DA! Two birds with one stone. You’re welcome.

And it doesn’t stop there … they tried to propose a law last week to legally limit the amount of people you can have at your house for a cookout. Your house … your burgers and dogs … but they’re in charge of the guest list. Oh yeah, that makes total sense. So that graduation party you throw at your house this month for your kid? Probably illegal.

And while we’re talkin’ grads … the state … I mean the COMMONWEALTH … Is actually spending money on a campaign to remind you that “it’s illegal to give scratch tickets to somebody under the age of 18, so we’re gonna bust you if you give one to a kid at a graduation party.” This is what we’re wasting our time on? And again … while we’re doing this, what else is happening? Crime!

It’s a Nanny State … Nanny COMMONWEALTH … whatever. Point is, I don’t want a nanny. At least not this kind of nanny. You wanna be a nanny state? Fine. Then you do what actual nannies do and you show up at my house tonight at seven o’clock and handle bath time with my two little rugrats while Mommy and Daddy can enjoy a cocktail together. That’s your job as a nanny. You ain’t even doin’ the nanny part right.

OK … moving on Diary … I just need to ask … because pretty much everybody is familiar with a camera, right? I think it’s safe to say we’ve all used one. Heck … most of us now carry one 24-7 on our phones, so I would say we all have a pretty good idea of the concept of the camera and how it works. And yet, when you’re out with a group of people, and you decide you want a picture of the whole group, why is it that the person you ask to take the picture … no matter what they are … young, old, man, woman … that person acts like this is the first picture they’ve ever taken in their entire lives?

Wait … what do I do? Point it over here? And then I push a button? Did I get it? Did I take the picture?

My son knows how to use a camera. He’s two. What is your deal?

And the picture quality? Forget it. Fuzzy … too far away … nine miles of headroom above everybody in the picture. Terrible!

Now I know you people can take pictures. You flood my social media feeds with all the pictures of your little booger eaters and every single thing they do in their lives. So why can’t you take one picture for somebody else when called upon?

Till next time Diary … I say, goodbye.