Celebrity

Recently we've had two celebrity comedians leave us, both seemingly before their time. The ironic part is that whenever a celebrity dies, the discussion of death roars to life. News articles come out about how the person died and what we can do to become more aware of a way to prevent that from happening to someone else in the future, specifically like with Robin Williams' suicide or Joan Rivers heart attack during surgery. But we can't really prevent death; we can only postpone it, kind of like when Windows shuts down to install new updates. We know windows has to shut down, but can it be four hours from now? I'm watching a thing (porn).

Death and comedy go hand in hand. Read these phrases below.

"He killed tonight."   "OMG! He's so funny, I died."   "He slayed 'em."

See? People can't even talk about me without mentioning death in a figurative sense. But it's playful because it means something good. It would be bad if an audience actually died. So bad for business. And it's bad when a comedian dies. So bad for business. (My editor wrote that one.)

But why do we care so much if we really didn't know the person? That is the problem with the topic of celebrity. Celebrity causes us to think that we know people we don't actually know. That's how I'm friends with Jimmy Fallon, even though he only signed my book in passing, and has never acknowledged my presence in any way, despite numerous twitter attempts. (I'd gladly prefer a retweet over a restraining order any day.)

The cool thing is that we don't have to forget the celebrity that has died. I mean, my YouTube queue is full of Joan Rivers clips, and I will watch them as soon as I finish all of Robin Williams's clips. So you should do the same. Celebrate the life of the dead and be thankful that you have the ability to. Because life is kind of fragile and could end at any time. So seize the day. Live it up and have a good week.

Hyundai Monday

I don't mean to brag, but I'm in the market to buy a new car. Well, not so much me as my brother is in the market to buy a new car. I'm just along for the ride. (There's gonna be a lot of these, so buckle up.) Now, we share a car because we are twins and we do everything together. But that might end soon. Who knows how long we'll be twins? So, it only makes sense that he should buy a new car.

Hold up! Let me shift into reverse for a minute. (See what I mean?) Did I mention that the car that we used to share recently died? It did. I stopped at a red light and it didn't start again. It had had enough. After all, it was a 1995 Ford Escort. I don't want to say that the car was old, but it came with its own handicap parking pass. We learned to drive in it, and I even got it T-boned in an accident four years ago for good measure. All of this led up to last week when it just stopped working. Just stopped in the middle of the road. And we had just gotten it inspected. (Don't it always seem to go, That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone, They paved paradise and put up a parking lot (in the middle of a road with two lanes in each direction).) But I did get to finally fulfill my lifelong dream of pushing a car in neutral to the side of the road. I "ghosted" it, as the kids say. (Shhh, kids, or I will turn this car around!)

It might actually be a good time to buy a new car, as Labor Day and Back-to-School sales are going on, hopefully delivering us a price that doesn't go through the sunroof. We are looking for something a little more "modern." It might be good to have a car that goes from 0 to 60 in 6 seconds, as opposed to a car that goes from 0 to 60 in "when it gets there" or "if it feels like it." And it might be updated by 15 years or so, with a radio that has more capability than just being a radio (sometimes). I might actually be able to listen to a CD, rather than a cassette tape. (It's hard to find Ariana Grande and Iggy Azalea's "Fancy" on cassette, mostly because they stopped making cassettes before we got the car.) The new car's radio will be just as shareable as our other car's radio, and I think that our sharing approach works pretty well. When I drive, my brother is in charge of the radio, but when my brother drives, my brother is in charge of the radio. It's perfect because I love country music. (That was sarcasm, or as I like to call it, carcasm.)

I think it's finally time to get a new car. I knew this day would come. The last five years have been a blessing in disguise with our old car. You never forget your first "tricked-out whip," if I may be so bold as to use the kid's lingo again. (Shh, what did I just say?) So say goodbye to the '95 Ford Escort and hello to the '08 Hyundai Sonata. Solid white exterior, completely Armor All-ed interior. We greased their pockets, they greased our steering wheel. The new car is purchased and paid for with an easy to repay loan. Yay loans. Yay debt. Yay stress. But it will all work out in the end. Who knows where our lives will take us in the future? But I do know one thing; where we're going, we definitely do need roads.

Lunchtime

I don't always eat lunch, but when I do, I eat Chipotle. Chipotle is like a great equalizer, you know. I mean, it's the one thing that remains constant. We only know a couple things to be completely true in this world. The first is that we are all gonna die, and the second is that we are all gonna eat Chipotle, not necessarily in that order. I've never met someone who doesn't like Chipotle. Ok, to be fair, I've met one or two, but it sounds better if I say everyone likes Chipotle. 

I believe that there is some magic power that brings the world together, creating a strong sense of humanity, emanating from a bowl of rice and beans. It has the power to change personalities and opinions. I mean, you may hate me (but it ain't no lie, baby buy, buy, buy Chipotle) but let's talk about it over a burrito and see if you don't change your mind. I might be an awful, murderous psychopath, but I wouldn't take you to Taco Bell. I'm not a monster, for Christ's sake. 

Chipotle is where beautiful people go to eat lunch. We're talking the richest of the rich. You kind of have to be rich to afford the new price increase, especially if you get double chicken. But we pay it because if we don't, we don't get Chipotle. It's a vicious circle shaped pita bread. Lunch is that after breakfast pick-me-up, and as such, it should be enjoyed. So enjoy it. 

**This is not a paid advertisement for Chipotle. Chipotle is in no way affiliated with this blog. However, I am open to the idea. ;)**

The Ice Bucket Challenge

First off, I'm alive and breathing. Yesss! Surgery went well. Now, on to the business at hand.

Thank you, www.buzzfeed.com, for nominating me to do the ice bucket challenge to raise awareness for #ALS. I would like to nominate www.mashable.com, www.gizmodo.com, and www.hellogiggles.com. You have 24 hours to complete the challenge or donate $100 to the ALS fund. Good luck!

When I found out that www.buzzfeed.com had nominated me to do the challenge, I was flattered and excited. Then, the questions arose. What is ALS? Where do I go to donate? How do you dump a bucket of ice water on a website? Thankfully, I found Buzzfeed's article "7 Ways to Dump a Bucket of Ice on Yourself (If You're a Website)" and I was okay. (I chose number 3.)

As we all know, ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's Disease (why isn't it called LGD?), is that progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects nerve cells in the brain and the spinal cord, causing people to involuntarily dump buckets of ice water onto themselves. This weakens the immune system, and people die from hypothermia and pneumonia. It's so great that those of us who are able to experience what it feels like to have the condition can do so by dumping buckets of ice water on ourselves. It is literally eye-opening and teeth chattering. 

ALS has been around since Lou Gehrig first got it in 1939. Since that time, it lay dormant in wait until about a week or two ago, when it flared up like a bad case of Sisyphus... err, I mean, syphilis... or Sisyphean syphilis, which is where you drag a different type of rocks up a hill. Anyway, everybody now has ALS fever, as evidenced by your clogged newsfeed on Facebook of all of your friends dumping buckets of ice water on themselves. If you haven't seen this at all, you must not have any friends. (Sorry) Everyone has done it. Everyone has been presented with the choice: donate 100 smackaroos or dump any volume of water you find suitable on yourself. You can do one or the other, but NOT both. Obviously, it is cheaper to give 100 bones to the charity, because if you do the math for the ice, you find that it's $0.30 for water, $0.15 for ice, and $1000 for a week of therapy.

I have a proposition. Why not donate any amount of money instead of dumping ice on your head? Look, if one million people each donate $1 or more, that's like...(calculator button noises)... $1,000,000 (or more!!). Let's do that, instead of wasting ice and water. Cause I've heard rumors that Al Gore is now going around speaking about global warming and the melting of polar ice caps on people's front yards. 

Let's combat this particularly bad case of ALS this year by donating a little bit at a time to raise money so that a healthy and happy life can be had by all. Go here to donate and find information: http://www.alsa.org/

Finally, let's have a moment of silence for those ice cubes who have lost their lives in the fight against ALS. I spoke to one right before he died and posted the quote he gave me. Really inspirational and sad. #NeverForget

“Some diseases are worth melting for.”

— Olaf

Need to Breathe

Ever since I was young, my grandmother has, at some point, on every occasion that I've seen her, asked me "Whose nose do you have?" I have always replied "I don't know. I'm Jewish, is that it?" and shrugged it off while laughing uneasily. But recently, my answer has become "I don't know, but whomever it belongs to can have it back!" I don't want it. It does not work. And I tried unplugging it and plugging it back in. Nothing has fixed it. I knew I shouldn't have called the Genius Bar. That's when I said something smells funny, and that's why I had it looked at by a professional, instead of my grandmother and a fat hipster.

It turns out that I have a "horribly deviated septum" and a collapsed left valve. It's not your standard deviation (Get it?), but it gets the job done. My nose is crooked. I mean, my nose swings farther left than Barack Obama. And it's got a bigger bump than a 38 week pregnant woman. I'm still not fully convinced that my nose isn't slowly imploding into my face like a demolished building, eventually resembling that of Lord Voldemort's nose, or lack there of. Long story short, I can't breathe. And I feel the need, the need to breathe.

But this problem is actually more serious than a modified quote from the movie Need for Speed. I need to get it fixed, whatever the cost. I don't mean to sound stuffy (*heavy breathing* *heavy breathing*), but it's becoming a real problem. If I didn't know any better, I would think that I do lines of coke in my sleep because my nose just starts bleeding in the night, and I wake up all congested and dry. Plus, the deceased hooker next to me in bed is literally a dead giveaway.

I'm scheduled for surgery on Wednesday. I have many questions: Will it work? Will I sound different? Will my face change shape? Who "nose." (Ha!) Hopefully, I will be able to breathe easy, in more ways than one. (Two ways) If not, well, it'll make for a funny story. (Remember that one time when I had surgery on my nose.? I now keep it in a jar next to my bed. The nostrils are getting wider every day...) Listen, I'm just seizing the opportunity, you know, Carpe Septum! Because I can't let it fall away. It's nothing to turn my nose up at. 

How am I doing? You waited this long to ask how I am doing? That's a little nosy of you, don't you think? Well. I'm fine. Just a little nervous. I have some nose shaped butterflies in my stomach. It is surgery, after all. I will be asleep while they do it, which is why I believe they schedule it for so early in the morning, when I'm already half asleep. A perfect fit. Other than that, it's pretty routine. Maybe I'll get some sweet pain killers. (I'm an entrepreneur, after all.) I'll try to post next week, amid the haze of medication. No promises. Smell ya later.  

Coming Soon to a Website Near You!!!

Website Under Construction: Proceed With Caution!

I've been telling people that I am really, really excited about owning the domain www.peoplesayimfunny.com (You Are Here!). It's so great. But, do you know what I realized last night at like 9:00? I OWN THE FREAKIN' DOMAIN WWW.PEOPLESAYIMFUNNY.COM!!!!. This is also a website. A full website. And I've been using it as a blog. Just a blog. So, to rectify this, I will be expanding this site. If you move your eyeballs upwards from these words, you may notice a Podcasts tab, a Videos tab, and a Comics tab. Also, the About tab became About the Author, which I have populated with some precursory information about myself. Remember, I'm the I'm in People Say I'm Funny. Don't worry, my blog isn't going anywhere (Sorry haterz!). I'm just adding more stuff I like. Keep checking back, because stuff will be updating over the next few weeks. Basically, I'm just consolidating all of the funny things that I have out there on the internet. Everything will become more clear as I do it. Alright, enough gabbing. I'm going back to work. 

Sweat Talk

RING!!!!! RING!!!!! RING!!!!! Is someone going to get that? I would, except that I am awful at talking on the phone to other people. I bet I'm not the only one. Kids these days don't know how to talk on the phone. We all just use Facebook, Twitter, and Snapchat. It's crazy. So for whatever the reason, I am not good at talking on the phone. I clam up like an entrée at Red Lobster. And I sweat, like I'm eating an entrée at Red Lobster. Just a full menopausal sweat. Which is weird, because I'm too young to be going through menopause. I also get soft spoken and nervous. I'm sorry; I mean more soft spoken and nervous than I already am. If I can take my clothes off when I'm on the phone, I do.

It's a big problem. Because sometimes, when I'm making an important phone call to someone, they'll ask "Charlie, what's that pitter-patter noise in the background?" And then I have to say "Oh, that? Sorry, I'm in the shower right now." I don't know why I sweat so much and get so uncomfortable. I'll work on it. But hey, even though I get really uncomfortable, the pizza still shows up on time.

Bored Games

You'll never guess what I've been watching a lot of over the past few days. No, it's not you through your bedroom window (or is it???). It's amateurs playing a board game. And that board game is chess. Note how I said board game and not sport. Listen, if I can play it in my living room, is it a sport? Is it? Didn't think so. But have you ever watched nerdy weirdos play chess? The experience leaves much to be desired, trust me (That's what she said!). I don't play chess; I'm merely a spectator (That's what she said!). My earliest chess memory involves the classic Simpsons themed chess set and someone telling me that I couldn't play it with them. It turned out to be fine because I ended up just playing checkers, both regular and my Jackie Chan themed Chinese checkers set. 

Watching chess also got me thinking. I imagine it would be pretty difficult to play chess in Australia, because your opponent would say "Ah, that's check, mate," and you would retort "Well, no, hold on I can still move my king here," and then he would say "No, it's check, mate," and you would fire back "Nuh uh, I can take your queen with my knight," and he would say "No, mate, it's check... mate," and you would say "But I can castle. I can castle!" and so on and so forth in an exchange reminiscent of Abbott and Costello. And plus, the pieces move the opposite way on the board over there, so it's really confusing.

Have a good week, and remember Chess's infamous slogan - "Chess: Keeping nerds in check since whenever chess was invented."

Three Two Line Scenes

"Can I put more Jews in this ghetto?" - Nazi 

"I don't know, can you? Ha, ha. It's 'May I put more Jews in this ghetto?' And yes, you may." - Grammar Nazi

"Your son sounds like an accomplished man." - Random Bostonian

"He is. I think I have a photo of him somewhere." (Pulls out a $100 bill) "Ahh, here we go. That's him in the middle." - Josiah Franklin

"What is The Barrier Reef?" - Contestant

"Ha, ha, ha. No. The answer is the The Great Barrier Reef, stupid." - Alex Trebek

A Brand New Day

Today is not a brand new day. Today is the next day, building off of what has happened ever since I developed consciousness. Like a stack of twenty-something year old legos. It's not forgive and forget with me. If you piss me off today, tomorrow I'll still be mad at you. Passive aggressively, of course, but still mad. What I mean is that I tend to hold grudges. I'm like a hoarder of grudges in that respect. My house is full of old newspapers, dead cats, and grudges. Just kidding, there's no old newspapers. 

You know the saying "It's not personal, it's business," right? Personally, that makes no sense. It has to be somewhat personal. You can't keep screwing someone over and expect them to just shrug it off. Eventually, they are going to want you to buy them dinner. With dessert. None of that decaf coffee, either. Like a slice of cheesecake or apple pie. Real dessert. I guess what I'm trying to say is don't piss me off because I'm like 9/11: I never forget. (Too soon?)