My letter to Mark Zuckerberg

Dear Mr. Zuckerberg:

My name is John Feldman. I have been an active member of Facebook since 2006. In the six years of being a Facebook member, I have seen many changes; some of them bad and some of them good. For the most part, I would say you and your team have done an outstanding job elevating Facebook to the premiere status it holds today. So for that, I congratulate you.

On the other hand, I do have one minor, well major, issue: posting pictures. Now hear me out. Posting pictures on Facebook is perfectly acceptable, and happens on many occasions. It assists people in getting their point across. They are also aesthetically pleasing, especially during beach season. It is only on certain occasions that I am asking you to deactivate the ‘posting pictures’ option. Those occasions are on holidays.

The main holiday I am speaking of is Valentine’s Day, which you know has just passed. In one day, I managed to see more arrangements of flowers on your site than if I were to walk into a florist (flower store?...whatever the hell it’s called) and do a full 360 degree turn without blinking. This is unacceptable.

I am fully aware that women love to boast about every little asset they have, but flowers are just crossing the line. Not only do the pictures show their flower arrangement, but these women take pictures of the flowers from a few steps back so their office cubicle can also be shown, letting us know their significant other had them delivered right to her office. It’s adorable, I know. But I could care less to see what he got her. In fact, he got the flowers for her, not for everyone on Facebook. And I believe it should stay that way.

In conclusion, Mr. Zuckerberg, I am asking that you deactivate the ability to post pictures on certain days of the year. If this is not possible, I ask that you severely punish those who do post these types of pictures. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

John Feldman

P.S. For the right amount of money, I’ll sleep with you.

It would be worse if I was rich...

Wing Bowl 2012. A day that will make me want to kill myself for many years to come.

Wing Bowl is a fat man’s event. Honestly. It’s Wing Bowl. A bunch of fat dudes compete to see who can eat the most wings in a certain period of time. Only in America. Even worse, the event starts at 6 AM. It’s hard enough to force down twenty wings at 6 PM during a football game, but these dudes suck down 300 at a time when most people are still sleeping. It’s gross. And even more gross, 20,000 people pack into the arena to watch. And I got a free ticket. So I was going to be one of those people.

On a normal day, you won’t catch me awake before noon. But on this day, I woke up at 4:00 for one reason: to start drinking.  Wing Bowl is pretty much a drunk-fest. There are drunk guys everywhere and tits being shown left and right (I can’t wait to have a daughter). If I was going to fit in with this crowd, I needed to start heavy consumption early in the day. I did just that.

The time came for us to go in, but instead of doing so we decided to hang around and drink some more free beer. We were going to wait until right before the main even started; no point in paying for our beer. When that time came, we found ourselves in another dilemma: we had a way to get into the bar across the street before they opened. So now we had options. Option 1: Go into Wing Bowl, see tits, and pay a lot for beer or Option 2: Go into the bar early to get good seats, pay less for beer, and wait for those drunk girls to make their way across the street to the bar when the main event was over. We chose Option 2. And we were satisfied with it.

Not only did a small amount of girls show up to the bar, but an astronomical amount of guys showed up; it was a complete dick fest. Great if you’re one of the few chicks at the bar, but terrible for us. So after a while of being surrounded by sweaty, drunk penis, we decided we would definitely see boobs today, but we were going to have to pay for them. We were going to the strip club.

Leaving the bar and getting to the strip club was a little blurry. I don’t really remember anything until I was sitting on a chair in the club with some girl dancing on me (once again, can’t wait to have a daughter). The rest of the day was a complete blur. I remember getting several dances, but I could not for the life of me remember what any of the girls looked like.

The next thing I remembered, I came to in a restaurant. I hit the wall. I had no more urge to drink. I didn’t have any thought of sobering up. I really didn’t even have the motivation to walk. I was done. So I called my friend for a ride. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to drive all the way to the city to pick me up; her dad was already in the city. So he had the burden of listening to me slur in my speech for the ride home. I’m just lucky I made it home. If it weren’t for him, I was looking for the closest alley. That was it for me for that day. I was in bed by 7 PM. That’s still a very long day. But I was happy that I made it home.

I woke up around 12:30 in the morning. I couldn’t be happier after realizing, once again, that I was in my own bed. I looked next to my bed to see my pile of clothes lying next to my hamper. They didn’t quite make it into the hamper, but I somehow managed to get them off of my body. Not too bad. My next move was to grab my phone. I wanted to make sure no one else ended up in jail. I looked; no one did. Looking good so far. Next thing: look at my account balance. So I open my bank’s app on my phone, type in my information, and then cry. Literally cry.

Somehow, I managed to spend $710. No typo, $710. I looked at my bank statement and saw the gruesome details. The first was an ATM withdrawal for $200. I remembered this one. It was the money I took out in the morning. I took out $200 thinking I wouldn’t need that much, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. The next, $210 at the strip club. Don’t remember this one at all. It wasn’t an ATM withdrawal. I actually had the receipt in my pocket for this one. The card was run for something. I somewhat remember mention of bottle service, but I honestly cannot remember if that was what this money was for. Next: an ATM withdrawal for $360. Holy hell. I sort of remember what this may have been for, but I can’t be sure for certain. At one point in the night, I remember getting very handsy with one of the strippers. She had to stop me, but made sure she said, “You can have me by yourself in the back for $___” (I can’t remember how much she said).

My response was, “What can I touch?”

She said, “Anything you want.”

Sold. That did it for me. So I agreed. I won’t get into too many details, but I will tell you she did let me touch anything I wanted. But she wouldn’t do anything to me. Bullshit. For $360…come on. Also, I know I was blurry so I can’t be sure this is right, but there is no way I was back there for an hour. If I was, I guarantee I would have fallen asleep.

After all was said and done, and tips and other little charges came out, the total for the night ended up being $808. I didn’t complain or cry too much more. The initial shock was all I needed in order to want a sharp object near my neck.

So I didn’t even go into Wing Bowl, but just hearing about it makes me cringe. I am usually very stingy with strippers. I hate strip clubs and this is further proof of why. Those girls saw my drunk ass stumbling in the door and took full advantage of me. I felt like death the entire next day, and it was not because of the hangover; it was because of my empty bank account.

Want to see my penis?

I attended a funeral yesterday. Don’t worry, though. This isn’t a sad story. She was 92 and lived an awesome life. But yesterday, at her services, I was highly unsuccessful. And I made myself look like an idiot in front of my entire extended family.

Multiple times during the week, my mom asked if I needed anything taken to the dry cleaners to be ready for Saturday. I kept blowing her off, insisting my suit and shirt were ready and pressed. Since they were hanging in my closet, I assumed they were fine. Then Saturday morning came.

It was now Saturday morning. I never did end up checking to see if the suit was ready to be worn. But just as I assumed, my suit and shirt were both hanging in my closet, neatly pressed. So I put them on and walked downstairs to wait for the rest of the family to get ready. Everything was going well…until I reached into my pocket.

As I reached into my pocket, I saw a large area of white underneath my hand. There was a hole in my pants. It was on the seam right below the left pocket, and it was the size of another pocket; it was noticeably large. It wasn’t small enough to where I could get away with wearing it and playing dumb if someone noticed. So I went back into my room to see if I had any back-up pants.

I went back into my closet and found two more pair of black pants. I grabbed one and put them on. I pulled them up to my waist; everything fit well. The length was perfect and they were comfortable. I went to button them up to see how the waist fit. Small problem: there was no button. Damnit. So I threw them on the ground and put on the next pair. Same thing. They fit great, but this pair had a button. So I buttoned them and went to zip them up. Small problem: they wouldn’t zip up all the way. Jesus Christ.

I was now holding everyone else up, so I just kept those pants on and ran out the door. One pair had a hole in the side, which could be covered by my jacket. Another didn’t have a button, which could easily be covered by a belt and the jacket. And the pair I picked didn’t zip all the way and didn’t match my jacket, so it could not be hidden by anything. Great.

The entire service and after party, I tried my hardest to hide it but it wasn’t happening. During the mass, I folded my hands and held them in front of my fun zone, looking overly religious; and everyone knows I’m not. And during the party, I held every beer in front of the zipper. It was the best I could do.

The thing that made this so much worse that this was in front of my whole family. It almost seemed as if I was trying to allow family members to see my penis, which was not the case. But they didn’t know. Either they thought I was really into incest or they just knew that I typically dress like a teenager and don’t have nice dress clothes. But in all honestly, they probably just thought I was drunk.

26 seconds

Remember the post from last week (the 10^th)? I’m sure you don’t. And instead of making you scroll down to find out, let me just summarize. I sent a check to my student loan company for the remainder of my balance on my account, which should have closed out my account. But instead, they cashed the check, but apparently didn’t put it in their system, leading to more work for me in the form of calling, going to my bank, scanning and faxing papers, etc… Well, everything finally got straightened out! Today, I received two pieces of mail.

The first piece of mail was from the student loan company. I was hesitant to open it because if it was another letter saying that I still owed money, something was getting thrown through a window. But for once, luck was on my side. In the envelope was a short letter, simply explaining to me that my check had gone through, my balance was at zero and that my account was now closed. The letter also said that a report would now be sent to the credit bureau making them aware that my account had been paid. I’m on my way back to good credit!

Now I go to open my second piece of mail. It was a statement from my car insurance company. Tuesday was the day my monthly payment automatically comes out of my bank account. The money was in my account, so I wasn’t worried. This was just a reminder, really. But just to be sure everything was in order, I went online to check my bank statement. I scrolled down…there it was. My monthly payment of $171 had been taken out--wait. What’s that? Again? Why was the amount taken out twice?

Maybe it was just some sort of typo, or technical difficulties. Maybe it was on the statement twice, but it was really only taken out once. So I went through and did the math and…yup, it was taken out twice! Awesome! I had a solid 26 seconds to celebrate paying off my student loan before I was hit with this.

I called the company and they said they could put it down as my next month’s payment. Fine. I guess that’ll work. But what if I didn’t have the money in my account? If I would have overdrafted because they decided to take it out twice, I would have been pissed. Not only would I have overdraft charges, but I’d have to make a million phone calls to set everything straight. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. It usually is.

This is the beginning of total stupidity.

First, this story isn’t about me being unsuccessful, it’s about humans as a species being completely stupid. Second, I know this is old news now, but I just found out this information so just go with it…

In the past decade or so, we have been finding out that many things cause different diseases. We know that drinking from aluminum cans causes Alzheimer’s, obesity can cause diabetes, and that heavy drinking can cause liver damage (well we knew that one, but still continue to ignore it). These all seem pretty legitimate. But this new (for me) study that came out is just sad. Apparently, drinking bottled water can now cause cancer. Are you for real!?!?

What are we taught from the time we’re little? ‘Drink 8 glasses of water per day to stay healthy.’ Well, people now-a-days are pretty damn busy and I’m not sure they have time to space out 64 ounces of water, let alone worry what they’re going to drink it out of. So companies made a convenient, travel-friendly bottle. And it was glorious. Until some nobody, broke scientist decided to fuck everything up.

I don’t care what this study says. I will continue to drink bottled water. I may do it even more now, just to piss people off. If I hear ANYONE say they are going to stop drinking bottled water because of this, I’m going to piss on whatever else they’re drinking. Every single day, each one of us push that tumor machine we call a cell phone straight up against our heads and think nothing of it. We press our fat faces up against the microwave oven as it cooks that processed food that will clog the hell out of our arteries, leading to our future demise. And cigarette sales continue to stay at a high rate even though there are large warnings placed on every package letting you know those cigarettes will pretty much kill you. Yet, water out of a bottle is now a cause of cancer? Stop.

At least good things like this happen

The last post was all about finances, and how horrible mine are. So there is no way that just two days later, I would have more money problems. That would just be insane. But wait…what? I do!? I do have more money issues TWO FUCKING DAYS LATER!?!?

As you’re probably well aware, I don’t pay off my student loans. I should, I just don’t. They cost too much. If I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, I’m not going for it. And considering I don’t have a steady income, I don’t see that light. I don’t want to work out some payment plan and make payments for a year just to run into the same problem if my money flow stops. It would piss me off even more if I worked at improving my credit score for a while, just to have it go right down the shitter again after one missed payment.

All that being said, I have been paying off one loan. It was a loan from one semester of community college. My parents paid for all of my community college semesters, except one. They made me pay for my second semester, since my grades from the first semester were so shitty. They were horrible.

If you think about it, my second semester of college was in 2004. It was forever ago. I didn’t start paying these monthly payments until last year; seven years later. Pretty pathetic. But the minimum payment was only $51.00/month. So I figured I’d give it a try. After all, it had been seven years.

The total amount I owed back was about $1,300. And I was making $51 payments for a while, but it seemed like it was taking forever to pay it off. In December, I received my statement in the mail. The balance was now down to $542.73. I sold a ton of drugs the previous few weeks, so I had some money. I’m kidding. But I did have money; enough to pay off the whole loan. So I did.

On December 7^th, I sent out a check for the remaining balance on my account. And on December 13^th, that check went through. I had a large smile on my face. For once, I was being responsible and taking care of something that had to be done. I was actually pretty excited to get something in the mail noticing me of my account being closed out. On December 21^st, I received a piece of mail from them. I was excited. I opened it: “Dear Borrower. It appears that you are not responding to out earlier demands for payment…” What the fuck?

Umm, okay. I was confused. So I called. I had a very nice lady come on the phone. And by nice, I mean a bitch. She sounded like she was trying to break a record for most cigarettes smoked in a lifetime; her voice was as deep as mine. I explained to her what had happened: that I sent the check, it was cashed, and that there must have been a mix up. As much as I tried explaining it to her, she insisted it was something wrong on my end and the only thing I could do was get copies of everything and fax them in. So I did. And that would put an end to it.

On January 3^rd, another piece of mail came from them. This time, it came in a large 8 ½ x 11 envelope. This must be the finalizing papers or something. I was actually excited to open it. So I did. “Dear Borrower. Enclosed are the documents advising you of our intention to withhold from your wages…” Are you fucking kidding me!? People piss me the fuck off! So I called again. Well, attempted to call. I called three times and every call ended the same. I would call, be put on hold for about ten minutes, then a message would come up saying all operators are busy and to call back later. Three separate times today. Bullshit!

Did they wrongfully send this letter to everyone, and that’s why everyone was calling today? I’m not sure. But this is bullshit. The check was cashed over four weeks ago, and these idiots still are unaware of it. Where the hell did the money go? Did they put it in someone else’s account? Isn’t that why accounts are separated by social security number!?

Anyway, the whole fucking thing is annoying. Now you know why I don’t bother to do the right thing. Because when I do, shit like this happens.

I make one fucking mistake...

Alright, that ‘Every Tuesday’ thing has gone out the window. Obviously I don’t have the organizational skills required to write one blog per week and post it on a certain day. I should have learned in college that I can’t turn things in on time.

This post is written out of pure hatred; pure hatred toward the law. I wasn’t arrested again or anything like that, but a previous incident keeps coming back to haunt me: my DWI. For those who don’t know, I got a DWI on December 6, 2010. On December 16, 2010, I went to court and was hit with a seven month loss of license and was ordered to have an interlock device put in my car for twelve months. This was the maximum penalty. Yes, I did have a lawyer, but he had about as much worth in that court room as the dried up mouse shit lining the borders of the room.

The reason I’m writing about my DWI fourteen months later is because tomorrow morning, a total of $1,232.00 will come out of my bank account. Why? Because fourteen months ago I drank a few too many beers. If you’re thinking this total is so high because there are a bunch of different fines, you are wrong. This large total is only two different payments. The first: $1,000 for New Jersey surcharge. It’s exactly what it sounds like. It’s just a surcharge. There is no other reason. In the state of New Jersey, anyone who gets a DUI or DWI has to pay $1,000 per year for three years. And the second: My bi-monthly cost for my interlock device. It costs $116 per month to have a court ordered inconvenience in my car. Cool.

So tomorrow I will be furious with the state of New Jersey for continuing to punish me for a mistake I made over a year ago. And they will continue to punish me for the next two years. With outrageous fines like these, I wonder how this state is in so much debt? But, whatever. I’ll just shut up and pay. If New Jersey only knew I’m a much better driver when I’m drunk…