To start things out I’ll tell you a little tidbit of information about myself. Sometimes when I’m at work and getting annoyed with the typical ridiculousness that is my job, I like to take a little break. Sometimes I saunter down to the actual break room to catch up on stories about old lady parts. Other times, however, I like to go for a little summertime walk. Usually, it’s just me, alone with my thoughts and manliness, but last week something different happened.

I was walking down a street where a lot of my coworkers park when I noticed a crew of gentlemen paving an alley and sidewalk. I walked by them a couple blocks, turned around and started walking back to my place of employment. On my second walk by one of the guys yells “Hey, that was a short break, gotta go back already?” Umm, wtf? At first I wondered how he could possibly know that I was going to and from work, but then I realized he could probably see the depression on my face.

Simple, small conversation. No harm done right? Well, apparently my willingness to reply to this fucking guy means we’re BFF’s now. Now, every time I walk by it’s constant, generic conversation typhoon. All of a sudden his buddies are getting involved in the conversations. It’s also, not like I can just take another route on break, because this is the same walk I take from home to work and back. I’m permanently conversation fucked until they get that alley paved which, by the way, is taking for-fucking-ever. Every morning when I walk to work before they get there I check out the progress and when I see it’s not done my soul turns a shade blacker.

Just the other day I was walking home from work when I met this girl who works in my building, who some would consider “bangin”, on the sidewalk a bit before the alley cocks. We said “hi” as we pass by each other in an awkward way, because why wouldn’t we? Well apparently my new comrade saw this small interaction and locked me in, ready to attack with his verbal assault of nonsense. The conversation that promptly took place went a little something like this:

Cement Douche: Hey, you know that girl?

King Awesomeness: Uh, yeah, we work in the same building.

Cement Douche: Oh man, you’re lucky.

At this point I know in my mind that this conversation is about to be the most annoying one yet. I just half shrug and say “yeah, I guess” then attempt to keep walking to get to my homeland. Yet, he keeps on talking.

Cement Douche: So why don’t you try to get on that man? I would if I was you.

King Awesomeness: She has a boyfriend.

Cement Douche:…

I just wanted to stop typing the conversation because of the realization I just had about the hilarious, yet painful double meaning of “Cement Douche”… Back on track.

Cement Douche: That doesn’t mean anything, man. You’ve got to get in there. Boyfriend is just a word.

King Awesomeness: Yeah, it’s just a word that would probably beat the shit out of me.

At this point he just sort of shrugged and laughed. I was about to walk away, yet again, but something inside of me said “Hey, you’re blog is lacking new content. Stick this out, buddy. Think of the lives you’ll save by putting up awesome new content.” So I said “solid point, mind”, and went back in there, like a fearless trooper.

King Awesomeness: How would you go about trying to get past the boyfriend situation?

Cement Douche: I don’t know, just ask her out for drinks or something.

King Awesomeness: Yeah, that won’t seem suspicious at all.

Cement Douche: Just find some way to get her drunk.

This is when I started to crawl back into my mind. Why does he think I’d have to get her drunk? Am I that physically repulsive to require a girl to be absolutely hammered for me to “hammer” her? Does he have no confidence in my game? I thought I had pretty good game actually, which consists of a beautiful mixture of verbal assault and fake confidence.

I grew increasingly bitter with him thinking so little of me so just to show that I’m better than him I said “thanks for the advice”, in a sarcastic tone that he was unable to detect. Then I went home, punched a stuffed animal and cried myself to sleep, like a real man would.

Tags: break, cement douche

I’ve been thinking a lot about the early hears of The Josh lately, back in grade school. You know, when there were no real problems compared to what you face when you grow up. I’ve found, however, that even my childhood “problems” were actually more problematic then the issues I face today. Sure I don’t really have any idea what to do with my life, but my grade school problems were fucking fierce.

The first issue I can remember facing (besides the pee situation) was that I would always get seated in front of the same girl, Heather. Not only was this girl a disgrace in the looks department, but she also threw up about twice weekly. This problem escalates fast, because she apparently doesn’t know how to run to a bathroom or a garbage can. Multiple fucking times I remember sitting at my desk, learning cursive or whatever the fuck we do, when all of a sudden I hear a streaming splat behind me. She puked all over her desk every single fucking time.

Now, there are two clear problems in this situation. The first being that I have to be self conscious about possibly having puke specks on my back all day. The second is that it brings a whole hell of a lot of attention in the direction of self conscious Josh. She’s the one who clearly made a disaster out of herself, yet all I’m doing is sitting in my desk thinking “Oh my god, everyone is looking in my direction. How embarassing for me to be sitting in front of her. Everyone is going to make fun of me. I hope I don’t have puke specks on my back. Great, now everyone is going to call me ‘puke back’. Fuck it, I’m not going to recess.”

It really sucked too, because I fucking LOVED recess. Especially in 4th grade, when I started coming into my own. Our desks were situated into a square and I didn’t have that disappointment to her parents, Heather, sitting behind me. Oh, what an increase in confidence that brought. I even started developing my skills with the ladies. In fact, this girl who I had a huge crush on said she liked my smile! Well, she didn’t say that directly to me, but her friends told my friends who told me about it. In fact that’s how I still pick up chicks today. I’ll say to my friends “hey, you see that cute girl over there? Go tell her friends that I have a crush on her.” Man, you should see the panties drop…

Anyways, back to recess. In 4th grade I just happened to be the king of a little game I like to call tetherball. Tetherball is a game with a poll and you have to hit the ball, which is attached to a rope, all the way around on your opponent who is trying to wrap it around the opposite direction. Ok, I may have not been the king, but I was ranked 2nd best in the entire school. Then one day I got sick of the “2nd best” moniker, so I decided to challenge the best kid in the school, at recess. I’m pretty sure if it was around back then this shit would have been on Pay Per View.

Now, the thing about tetherball is, that there is also a referee that can call fouls on people and if he calls even one the match is over. Basically you’re not allowed to hold the ball, or touch the string. So the battle was on. Right out of the gate I start out a little weak. He got a couple loops wrapped around the bar on me, but then I started mounting a comeback. I was the fucking comeback kid with the nice smile that drove the ladies wild, yeah, that’s me. I was fucking owning! Around and around I went, almost had the match wrapped up, the game was fucking mine! Then, all of a sudden I hear “roping!”.

I hadn’t made it a point to notice that the referee at the time happened to be a kid that always called fouls on me. This kid was a douche. The only reason he would call fouls is because the referee was the next kid in line, so if you called a foul it would be your turn faster. I never fucking touched the rope, EVER. Yet this kid always fucked me over. I wish I remembered his name because I would hunt him down and kick him off his garage with a tetherball rope around his neck and say something clever and awesome like “who’s touching the rope now, bitch?”. I realize that if I did that it I still can’t take back that win and make it mine, but with that douche fuck out of the picture I’d say the big winner would have to be the world.

Tags: grade school, tetherball