Mike Literman

I’m not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I know that it’s cliche and that it’s really no better than “Sweetest Day” which is absolute garbage. Why? I’ll tell you, that’s why you’re here anyhow, right? To listen to rants? Runts are delicious. Banana Runts are gross. Banana’s are gross.

Love is fine. You meet someone, touch their genitals, then you fall in love. Those are typically the relationships that last, right? The ones where you just jump right into the bed. Either way, you know you both want it. What’s the point of “meeting someone” if you can put something of theirs in your mouth. I’m feeling very tactful today, can’t you tell?

Anyhow, love is something totally different. Love involves cards, flowers, respect, chivalry, etc. It’s a lot of work. For me anyhow. I’ve been in many a relationship and I can tell you, as much as you learn from “the bad ones”, you still have a lot to learn. I don’t want to meet the person who knows “everything” about love because:

1. They’re probably a know-it-all jackass and who likes one of those.
2. They will inevitably give you advice on what you’re doing wrong because they do everything right.
3. They smell like the worst perfume/cologne you’ve ever smelled
4. They wear an ascot.

So there you have it. Onto marriage.

This annoys me. Not the though of marriage, I think marriage is fine, it’s the questions that surround it. Namely one. Just one. You know the one. “So when are you two getting married?”. What a terrible question. You know we think it, we just don’t ask. Men that is. We is men in this scenario. We think about it, and I think that the poet Chris Rock said it best when he said that the nicest thing you can say to a woman is, “I’m not going anywhere.”. It makes so much sense. You’ve devoted to that person, you love them, what’s the point in getting all worked up about marriage? You’re together with two last names, you’re together with one. With the exception of tax and health care benefits, benefits that I could care less about but actually had a girlfriend want to marry me so that she could be put on my health insurance which was crafty and stupid simultaneously, there’s no advantage. Oh, there’s that one where you can’t have a kid before you’re married, too, which I think is an old wives tale because I don’t think that your parts render themselves any differently once you sign your name on the dotted line to become officially married. Also, there are a lot of young kids that can’t all be babysitting. Someone had better look into that. A scientist perhaps. Back to the question…

“When are you two getting married?” leads to the same answers and emotions as this question, “When are you getting a raise”. Let’s go through them, shall we?

“Well I don’t know. I’ve been working really hard to prove myself but it’s just not happening. My [boss/boyfriend] is being a jerk. Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”

See?! Stop asking that question. I don’t even know why you would ask it. It’s imposing and a little bit like you’re rubbing the other persons face in the fact that they are not married yet. Especially if you asking the question is married. Then it’s like, “Oh, when are you going to join adulthood and get married”.

1. Stop asking that question.
2. Spend more time with genitals.
3. Support your local record store.
4. Buy more Runts.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Love,
Mike Literman

On my commute home from work yesterday, they mentioned that whole salmonella peanut butter craze scare. Scary stuff considering everyone except my crazy girlfriend doesn’t like peanut butter. Seriously, who couldn’t go for a nice PB&J right now? My grandma makes the best jelly I have ever had. For Christmas she gave me a jar of it and it was exhilarating to my taste buds. I will have to call her later today and place another order with her. Anyhow…

So I’m driving, minding my own business, half listening to the radio when I hear it. There is a Peanut Association. It’s actually called the Peanut and Tree Nut Association, but it’s there. Could you imagine?

Hello class. My name is Harold Schmidt (completely made up name) and I work in the Peanut and Tree Nut Association. We oversee the trade and sales of peanuts and peanut butter in the United States.

That would be the worst career day ever. At least if your dad was a garbage man, the kids would know what they did. Peanut Association? Seriously? What do you do? Charts and graphs probably. That seems to be the way things are going now-a-days. Ball bearings? Not in my house.

PTA: reputable.
PTNPA: not so much

I would be willing to change my opinion with the promise of a circus elephant sized bag of salted, shelled peanuts and a gallon container of crunchy peanut butter.

It’s happened once, I don’t know why I don’t expect it to happen again. Let’s get it started right by apparently quoting a terrible pop song…I’m such an idiot.

Many moons ago, Taco Bell was terrible. They had their boring taco’s and if you wanted a decent taco with cheese, you would have to pay for cheese as a “hidden cost” for each taco. Loose sprinkled, bagged cheese is hardly a luxury, Mr. Bell. My dad once told me that if you want to get a job you have to sit down and talk to the manager in charge, but he always used the name of the company as the name of the boss, so the lesson would be as follows. “Thanks for meeting with me Mr. Bell. I’d like to talk to you about getting a job at the company.” Every place I ever applied. No, I didn’t apply to work at Taco Bell, but I’m illustrating a point here. Anyhow…back to the story.

Taco Bell was bad. Well, not so much bad as just there. Mediocre. Then something magical happen in the name of the “Crunchwrap Supreme” or as people in my group call “The Tactogon”. That thing was awesome. It was about the size of two tacos and it was fun to eat. Done and done. I ate many of those. Then, dude, then they came out with the “7-Layer Crunchwrap” and that was a tasty morsel. They snuck some guacamole and those little zesty tortilla strips in there and called it a meal, and me and my stomach agreed to the full extent. Two weeks later, gone. No word. They don’t tell you, you just go to the counter and order it and they nonchalantly say, “We don’t sell that anymore.” and your heart drops. You’re legitimately sad. I was. I loved that thing.

So a few months ago, Taco Bell scientists came to my house at night when I was sleeping, analyzed my taste buds and went back to their lab and created the lovely and talented “Volcano Taco”. I love you. I love you Taco Bell, I love you Volcano Taco, with your delicious spicy cheese…sause and you’re rebellious red shell that was nothing if not just awesome decor.

Last night on my way to my girlfriends parents house to do my taxes, I was craving hard so I proposed that we go to Taco Bell so that I can get a pair of Volcano Tacos. We get there, prepare to place our order. Here goes:

Me: “Hi. I’d like two double decker tacos, two Volcano Taco’s and…”
TB: “We don’t sell the Volcano Taco anymore.”
Me: “Ugh, seriously?!”
TB: “Seriously.”

Seriously?! You just killed it off? Without telling me? Who cares about people breaking up with you over email, at least you knew what was happening before you went to their house to give them two tickets to the All American Rejects concert only to find out that she’s left you and is at the All American Rejects concert with some other dude. I picked All American Rejects because I feel that the quality of people that like anything that they have released recently would break up with someone in an email. Also, aside from me generalizing them in this scenario, I should admit that the first All American Rejects record was awesome and made for a pretty good summer when it was released.

Taco Bell does not sell the Volcano Taco anymore!

Just put up a sign to let people know. I’m not visiting you again until you come up with something awesome so I hope you’re happy.

I think about it all the time and rarely does it have to do with computers. I know I’m going to end up working with computers until I get the worst case of carpel tunnel syndrome this side of the Missississsisssippissi.

So here is a list of things that I would do and my illegitimate reasons why.

Carpenter – I love tools. I love woodworking, metal working, and just using my hands to build something tangible. That’s what’s wrong with the web because once your done with the best website anyone has ever seen, a wooden rocking chair is still way more awesome because you can touch it. I love you Norm Abram.

Mechanic – I love cars. All of them. Old ones, new ones, ones that are held together with tape and hope. Hope sucks, and plays like 0% role in keeping your 1989 Dodge Probe together. Also, I know you had the teal one. Everyone who owned a Probe has the teal one. Stop telling everyone about it.

Chef – I love cooking, and having people that enjoy your cooking and don’t mind a little experimentation help your out a lot. I’ve made a lot of bad meals, but my good meals have been very good. I’m learning, and nothing makes people happier than eating a great meal. Except money. Those people are jerks and are not your friends. They just want you to know they have money. I’d take a taco over $5 most days, so now you know which corner I stand in.

Bonsai Horticulturist – I’m terrible at it, but I love growing bonsai trees. One time at an interview for a job I was asked the following question, “If you could do one job for the rest of your life, what would it be?”. My response could have been no further than the field in which I was applying for. I proudly and pretty quickly said that I wanted to grow bonsai. There you have it. Mini trees, for life.

There is my “Sample Platter” of jobs that I would like to one day do. Who knows when I’ll get to doing them. I wish I hadn’t mentioned the sample platter. I used to live by this pizza place that had a sample platter and I used to get it all the time. Onion rings, pizza logs, chicken fingers, and jalapeno poppers. It’s amazing that I don’t weigh 700 pounds. I don’t want to be that when I grow up. I wish I was eating that sample platter…

My Letter

Can I tell you something, Doc? I don’t like diet pop at all. Notice that I said “pop” and not “soda”. It’s an upstate New York thing that everyone will have to get used to. I am sick of having that talk with everyone I meet. More importantly than redundant conversation is this. I don’t frequently feel “miss”. You know, like when you’re dating someone that you really like and they leave for a week to visit someone and even though you know they are inevitably going to cheat on you because the person they are visiting has more money and a sweet loft apartment, you still have that feeling like you wish they were there with you. Well I’m not talking about people, I’m talking about my genuine miss for Diet Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper. Such a borderline terrible idea but it was magnificent. I mean that, too. I never drink cola’s and I even moreso don’t drink diet anything, but you did it. You captured my heart with your flavorful beverage. But then something happened and it made me terribly sad. You pulled it. Was it an experiment. Was me purchasing a bottle every time I went to the grocery store not good enough? Evidently not, and the fact that I’m not good enough for you is quite disheartening. I didn’t care when Pepsi Clear was pulled, or Pepsi Blue either because that was gross and tasted like thawed out blue popsicles. Do they still sell Lemon Pepsi? The could pull that, too for all I care. It tastes like floor cleaner. If you could find it in your heart to give us another shot, I am sure that we could do better. Thank you for your time.

Their Response

Dear Mr. Literman:

Thank you for contacting us about Dr Pepper Diet Cherry Chocolate. Your comments and inquiries are appreciated because they provide valuable feedback about our brands.

Our Company has been making great brands that make a splash for more than 100 years. We are proud of our family of products and are committed to providing a wide range of choices for all individuals.

Thank you for taking the time to contact us. We hope that you will continue to purchase and enjoy our products.

Sincerely,

Consumer Relations

My Sentiments

Quite disappointed.