Positive Thoughts Don't Make Poor People Rich

Time for my quarterly blog post. I have noticed Petey has been a bit flaky when it comes to not only his blog posts; but to getting back to people, friends, family, and comedic events. In fact the only thing that I have been loyal to is Hulu, and my girlfriend. I don't know what I would do without Hulu... Because I know what I would do without my girlfriend... watch more Hulu, hello!

Lately I have been working on several ideas that may shake the very foundation of what I normally do. Although what I normally do is sit (sit at my desk at work, sit on the couch, sit on the toilet) these new ideas may very well involve more sitting, however what I do while sitting will change. I have been playing a lot of online games at work, and so much so that I very well may start a new blog reviewing these games I play. That is thought number 1, thought number 2 is to continue to work on my long long long long anticipated book "Man Poems, poems for men" I thought to make that a blog and if it works out I'll just make a book after the blog. I've seen it done, don't challenge me. Thought number 3 is to write witty articles (not like this one) as to get my ass in gear for the upcoming comedy festival that I gave the idea to people who are more motivated than I am to get the ball rolling. So now I'm in a comedy festival without any of the work. There must be a job like that somewhere...

Also, I have been in the process of joining the Air Force. But why? Well, to maybe find that lack of motivation, get debt paid off, and I have been playing with the idea of changing my focus in life from terrible comedian / flaky writer to public relations. Even though I don't get out much, I am not an awkward fella when it comes to socializing. I represent myself well (minus this blog) and I can represent other people well... as well. Plus I am convinced there is no plausible way of leaving Montana on your own. After several failed attempts of my own, I don't care what your thoughts are, because it is fucking impossible. I have now determined that will be the meaning of today's blog.

Fuck. You. Montana. Why are you so poor?

Fuck. You. Montana. Why is there nothing to do?

Fuck. You. Montana. My definition of fun does not involve a ski-doo.

So, I have been planning to escape Montana ever since I was brought over on the slave ship at the age of 10. I had a great life in Seattle, was the founder and chairman of my own club, and was surrounded by like minded people who had money, and rational thoughts. When I first came to Kalispell, MT I was made the brunt of jokes by the dirty dirty poor poors. Ever since I had several ideas of leaving. They go as follows, trying to go to school out of state, moving to l.a. for work after graduating college, move to chicago to go back to school. All. Have. Failed.

I don't know which is worse to either fail at all of those or to try to start all over again at $10 an hour in a city that should list "decline hobo's for money" as a recreational activity.

This is off topic but I have to mention, I made a map of downtown missoula with the Poverello Center (homeless shelter) on it, with it's address and ph# which I now give to the homeless when they ask for money. Some may see this as noble, but really I am doing it because I am so tired of saying no to them. In one instance a homeless man asked me for money because he was starving, and I told him to go to the Poverello center. He didn't know what that was or where it was, so the idea of the map sprouted form there. I only wish I had my "leave me alone and shut your mouth" map at that time.

Montana, oh how you have no industry. Even the medical marijuana business that was once blessed to people to start here has been taken away. The one business that had an industry where poor people, the common joe could start a business and make good money at was taken away. I mean I honestly feel Montana wants to keep its citizens poor and after bills are paid only have a few hundred dollars to live off of. Unacceptable Montana. So now, that I know what the problem is in this state, I hope someone will do something about it, because all I do, is sit.

Conversation Killer

So it has begun... going to the gym to work off the 7 months of winter I endured. I feel proud of going through such crap weather as Montana has the third highest suicide rate in the nation, and I don't think I'm alone when I say that if Montana had to go through one more month of it, we would have all been dead... But good thing Spring is here! After an orgy of food the cold weather came with, so did a few extra pounds, and now I'm at the gym listening to a bull shit conversation between a "boxer" and a guy from India who apparently is a fan of his. Now what makes this situation notable is the "boxer" is talking to his "fan" and they are having a back and forth conversation, all the way up til the "boxer" takes off his towel and flops his cock about... conversation ended. No more words, the "fan" stopped conversing back. It got me to thinking, what a great way to get out of any conversation. Some people say to grab a Twix, but I say save a dollar and grab your penis. For example: "So why are you working at DirecTV if you have a degree?" Then, remove your pants and say "Well if you have time I'll explain." Done, no more conversation. Thank. God. No explanation needed. Or, maybe you had too much to drink and decided to drive, you get pulled over, and the police man says, "Have you had anything to drink?" Immediately drop trou, "Oh excuse me, you have a goodnight sir." See? Flawless, no one wants to talk, interview, play badminton, go hiking, with a guy with no pants. I'm not endorsing for people to go out and flash anyone, it has to be strategic and only in emergencies, like pepper spray. Speaking of which... if one could somehow drop the pants AND pepper spray that would ideal, in fact that would be preferred. I might be onto something here. If I could fashion a product I think I'd call it, flash pants, or pepper dick, or peter picked a peck of pickled go fuck yourself! Really any of those will work. Seriously though, how shocked would that guy be if you were walking down the street and a hobo starts to attack you, and you unzip your pants; first of all he wouldn't know what the hell you're doing, he doesn't know what's going on, AND THEN you spray pepper from what Jesus gave you! Then you could say an 80's action film tag line like, "There's your change, will work for spicy food." I mean right?! You'd probably be leaving that situation with the Hobo's money, and his hot sandwich, depending. Serves him right. Now, don't think I forgot about you ladies out there. I know what you're thinking, "But I don't have a penis." True. For this very reason I have thought of several products, I got the v-spray, the PMS (Pepper Man Spray) or The Sentence Ender. I'll let you figure that one out. Well this has been productive, I'm glad we had this talk. Stay safe, and if you get into a bad conversation or heightened escalation, you know what to do. Good day to you.

Marc Summers, I Double Dare you to try to get away with that now a days

I was watching Double Dare on youtube the other night and couldn't help but feel a multitude of feelings. One of which was good flag up nose lord, did you really just do that Marc Summers? You see I don't want to start right off and say that Marc Summers is racist, but he was damn close. I finally understand why white Americans are hated by Al Qaeda, Eastern Cultures and a select few NBA players from 1992. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sL88KjfwQeQ That's right, Double Dare had a show with NBA players, which was either because the producers knew Marc Summers would squirm in his black jeans and large white tennis champion shoes, or it was because for some unknown reason every kid in the early nineties had a boner for the NBA. I remember I couldn't go to a friends house and avoid Space Jam, a Michael Jordan poster dunking a basket with his tongue sticking out (which was really too much to bare during recess when every white kid would go for a "jordan" dunk, and never make it. As if sticking your tongue out made you a 6,5 African American Basketball Legend. Because if that were the case why wasn't Keith Flint of prodigy drafted into the National Basketball Association without hesitation?) and a general obsession of wearing basketball shorts for my mexican and native american friends. I never understood it. I played Sega Genesis and avoided hoops, but I digress. Marc Summers you son of a bitch, you made it awkward for me to revisit my past. In a time where everyone is awkward, why did you have to be too? WHYYYYYYYYY?!!!! I ended up watching legends of the hidden temple afterwards to make up for this weirdness, which didn't really remedy anything when the host went to go in for a high five from the kids and, left him hanging. That was actually spectacular.

Speaking of spectacular, that talking Idol on the show, Omak, I think would be a great host to almost anything in life, explaining what you're about to do. Imagine you're the blue barracuda team and you're about to have sex for the first time, what do you do and how do you do it? Omak, take it away! Omak then comes out of a closet with his bright red eyes and faux foam face, flapping his technologically limited jaw, spouting wisdom with a simple, open close open close open close. He begins, "IN ORDER to procreate you will first need to remove your clothes (Omak always got louder at the beginning of each sentence too, which will be defined with ALL CAPS.) THEN, you will grab your partner. THE FEMALE will then lay on her back while the male simultaneously lays on top." Now I could continue but like Marc Summers that would be awkward... The real direction this blog post should go is Omak handling difficult social situations like a same sex marriage. "TO JOIN in a civil union you and your partner must have the permission from your state government. THEN, you must find the hidden justice of the peace hiding from the media and conservative groups as he is running for office next year and doesn't want to loose the republican nomination." Omak really knows what he's talking about I'd say, and I feel pretty confident ol' Omak can handle a more difficult situation like, oooooh, abortion. "IN ORDER to perform an abortion Purple Monkey team, wait, where's your partner?" Omak speaks the truth, no one has an abortion with their partner. Here, let this Abortion greeting card explain what I'm talking about. "So you lost a baby... But you kept your boy friend!" Back to Omak, "YOU should really either have permission from your parents or legal guardian if you are not of age. THEN, you must make it through the protesters and prayers where you will find yourself at the front gates of the clinic. GO INSIDE and fill out the paper work and if you have insurance you will automatically go to the operation room, but since you did not earn any insurance medallions in the earlier rounds you must go downtown to the free clinic. IF YOU encounter a meth addict in the lobby with a syringe you must then give them any money you are carrying to continue. ONCE YOU get into the operation room you must assemble the golden monkey to receive proper anesthesia. THEN after the procedure is done, you must try to get back to your parents house before the clock runs out. But the memories will haunt you, they will always be with you, in... LEGENDS, OF THE HIDDEN TEMPLE!

Poopsicles I say

I have to write to stop myself from going crazy. Also I want to take this blog to a different direction, not so much have it about me bitching and being bitter for all the misfortunes I've had, but rather let the facts be known as to why I am not a happy camper.

Goals to being a happy camper
1. Stop ending my evenings watching "1,000 ways to die" where campers do literally die...
2. Start looking for a way to get into grad school.
3. Find a hobby and do that hobby so I'm a bit more upbeat.
4. Let everyone understand I work at DIRECTV because I have to not because I like to.
5. Sure as shit would like to stop hearing "You have a degree and are working at DIRECTV?"
6. Stop bitching
7. Ask people if they are doing what they want to do.
8. Make more lists
9. Cancel that, lists are for pussy's

Ok, so for the past couple of months I have been sad, oh so sad... The reason for my sadness? Well it isn't because someone took my lollipop, it's because I feel the last 3 years have been a total and complete waste of time and now I find myself in the exact same spot I was at a year before I graduated college. Working at Directv, wanting to jump out of a window... Not to bitch, but you know it was coming, but it sure would be nice to have my work and education amount to something. Maybe I'm just not patient but I would sure like to start grad school now, instead of having to wade in this, ah poopsicles.

Where's the funny?

So I have fallen into a black hole. I mean that in the figurative sense not the sexually suggestive sense... Or do I? Ever since I was unable to find work in the great city of Chicago guess what I did! Hooray I settled! I moved back to Missoula and now I'm working for an insurance company as a customer service rep. I knew I would get something out of going to comedy writing school! So I ask myself, "Where's the Funny?" Is it still lying in bed in a basement apartment that is underneath a unitarian universalist church; trying to toss and turn and fall asleep until that damn service is over? Or was it lost at a bar in Chicago, as I performed comedy for crickets at Schubas? In either case it's a good question. Living by the words of my Father who now doesn't recall ever stating, to see the humor in everything; I cant help but laugh at myself and my epic failures. I have run into a string of bad luck, but when it rains it pours and when it pours it hails and when it hails hitler, Jews get fucked sir. I am the catcher as fate is pitching a lengthy throbbing girthy pole of COME ON! REALLY?!?! I'd like to think in my distorted view of reality, and watching too many documentaries to think that I now have a leg up on society, that I captain Jew Winkler have been amply screwed in the latest series of events.

So how does one bitch about themselves and have readers understand what's going on without advertising the poor decisions and sounding whiny. Well I guess I could just replace my name with "this guy I know." Or even better yet just tell a fictitious story about Gary Coleman, he's dead, he won't mind. (that is offensive!) One night as Gary Coleman was drinking princess beers and jello shots, and many other of his favorite small drinks in a tiny bar... you know what, I'm changing our hero to Lindsey Lohan on the basis that no one gives two shits about her and as monty python tells us, it's funny to have men portray themselves as a woman. So one night as Lindsey Lohan was out drinking protein shakes she got a great idea to become somebody and decided to pack up to the big city. She moved with a dream in her heart and innocent intentions and this is an awful way to tell a story because its now turning into Lindsey Lohan's true story, for we all know she's a whore now. I am now switching back to sarcastic Peter mode.

I don't know man, dude, baby, whoever you are reading this, I am living the bummer life and soon I hope my polished turd of a script I submitted to the writers on the verge program will be accepted and I'll be super duper famous, and everyone will love me, and all my dreams will come true, judd apatow will be jealous of me, everyone will want to have my baby, and when I die a very disgustingly rich fat man, there will be a riot on who gets my organs transplanted in them. It will be awesome. That's really what I wanted to say this entire time, glad I was able to put it into words. Also, I'd like to eat a bald eagle, just one. I'm not asking for much...

Ok, so I know this wasn't much of an update, more like thought diarrhea, but thems the brakes, more bipolar thoughts to come! Huzzah! So where's the funny? Probably flushed away in these random thoughts, oh bitterness...

Finally Internet, and an update

Hello everyone! I am settled into my new place in Chicago and I have seen quite a bit and done soo much! I first moved out here on the train so no furniture or car, and I have found a tv, tv stand end tables and a couch on craigslist for under $50, which in my mind is fuckin sweet. I feel like I could write a blog about every day so far here. I'll just go over the important stuff.

So when my brother and I first got here we had about 11 bags and 4 boxes to move from the train station to my place. We were pretty lucky because the train station has these guys called "red caps" who will put all your shit onto a cart the drive and take it out of the station straight to the cab. We found a van cab, packed the crap out of it, and then took it to my house. Now here's the part that pisses me off. In the cap they have a menu and on that menu it says that helping out with bags and luggage is no extra cost... technically. Now the cab ride cost 14 bucks, and I gave him a 20 and told him to keep the change and then he goes up to my brother and says that I need to tip him more! That money grubbin ass clown! I told him to get out of here and he didn't put up any sort of a fight just drove away. They'll try to get as much money as they can out here. I had a cab driver who on "accident" charged me 2 dollars more than what I owed, or people will short change you, so if you come out to Chicago, you count your change and make sure your bill is the right one. Oh man today I don't want to write alot, I've been writing all day for my stand up course and comedy writing class. So I'll leave you with this, I have been using the free Internet at a cool coffee place called the Noble tree and I thought it was funny but on the 3rd floor of this coffee shop, they have couches and what not to chill out on, but there was this guy who just sleeps up there. I thought he was a homeless guy but saw that he had a laptop but never uses it, so maybe he's using a broken laptop to bullshit his way into this coffee shop. I took a photo of him and that's him. I just forgot about it but 3 days later I went back, and that son of a bitch was there again. I'd like to say he's definitely homeless. More to come.

Moving tomorrow on the train

Ok, so tomorrow I go on the train in Whitefish at 7am to chicago for a fulfilling 31 hr train ride. I won't have any internet that I know of, so this will be my last post before I get to another wifi spot somewhere in lincoln park. Ok so here's a run down of tomorrow, I have a total of 10 bags, 3 will go on as a carry on, and 6 will be checked, and 1 will go with my brother lou who is traveling with me.

The most stressful part of this, is the uncertainty that I may not be able to check all 6 of those bags, (which contains everything I need to have in my apartment minimally) since the train is sold out and I was told I may not be able to check a lot of bags due to the fact that there are 130 people trying to board at whitefish, and the sooner I get there to check my bags, the better. I'll see what happens tomorrow and if I have to mail anything. This is just about my worst blog so far, boring, bland and stupid. So I will spice it up with a new game I came up with called bojangles. Here's how you play:

1st you need to find a field, preferably one that is owned by someone as it plays into the desperation you'll need to properly play. Now before I go to far, you can play bojangles two ways, one with a shotgun, one without. You'll understand soon what I'm talking about. I'll do the with shotgun version first. Ok, so first find a field owned by someone, maybe someone you don't like because what you're going to do is have a buddy time you and start the clock when you take a cow bell and shake it real hard and scream "bojangles"! and then followed by running 20 yards and taking a shit as fast as you can in the field. Step 2, when you're done dumping take a shotgun and fire off a shot to let your buddy know to stop the clock, and then run away. You can do this several times and see who gets the best time, and try not to get shot yourself, because part of bojangles includes a getaway. Pretty much be creative and just try to get the ef out of there before you get tea bagged by the owner of the property that you just layed your filth on.

Now the second way to play with NO SHOTGUN: The clock starts when you start running 20 yards, take a shit and then complete the timed adventure by running to a cowbell screaming "bojangels"! at which point the clock would stop. I would recommend this version for beginners, as a shotgun really escalates the adrenaline defecation, and you can probably get more than one game out in one day, and not get charged with possession of a deadly weapon.

I'm thinking I'll have to take photos and revisit bojangles for WOW, and actually attempt to do this. This would just put the buckle challenge to shame, that is of course unless you take a nice stanley steamer in the Buckle, which wouldn't be such a horrible thing, just matter of fact, especially if you put a hundred dollar bill in the human poo pile then it would be just like the buckle, over priced shit! hardy har har, I'm gonna go kill myself.