You Don't Gotta Be Out There Dancing For Dollars

Dear Little Ceasar's and Sonic, why you gotta be puttin dem hoes out dancin fo dollas? For any of you who live in the Provo/Orem area I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, just cruise your sweet A up on over to the intersection of N. 500 West and Bulldog Blvd in Provo and you can see for yourself. Girls, 16-21 years old, dancing just to pay their bills. Sure it sounds like that City High song, What Would You Do? (click it to hear it), life in the projects, or even a Will Smith movie (Independence Day), but it ain't. It's freaking fast food.
         Look at yourself guurl, your standing on a corner waiving a sign. You know who else does that? Two groups come to mind, homeless people, and those skanks who hold the round number signs at boxing matches. But you know what happens to girls like that who have no real skills? Eventually, their looks fade and they can't even get a job working an auto show. Then its right back to the streets. So your back at square one. But atleast the homeless have the dignity to just stand there. None of this jumping and jiiving you kids are into.
        The Little Ceasar's girls are the real pros though, they have no shame. They play that air guitar, and shake it like an epileptic. They been doin this for years, and it makes sense, the real Ceasar was nothing more than a tyrant. I just feel bad for the Sonic girls, they're so new to the dance game, so ashamed. It's similar to that awkward stage when you first become a prostitute, but different, because they actually make decent money, but kind of the same again because nobody likes you. Everytime I see the Sonic-ettes they got the sign up pressed to their face, wearing it like a mask (masks Terrify me by the way). They seem so ashamed, but, there they stand, dancing away. And guess what, all your friends totally know thats you, your not fooling anyone. So really, how much could they possibly be paying you for that? It can't be more than like $10 an hour, and that's being generous, for rizzle. And what bills you even got? Are you even in college? How many Hello Kitty backpacks does a girl need? This is what you gotta do, switch to Sprint and get a cheaper plan sister, I'm talkin unlimited talk, text, and web for $70 a month! Then you can be txtin your BFFs like hella much, and checkin your Facebook like 1,000 times a day to see if Jeremy has written on your wall yet (he's sooo yummy!!!! LOLZ!!!). Plus, then you can stop being such a joke.

        I have a question though. Is there some kind of a sign holders union? You know, not all sign holders dance. Some just stand there and wave. It looks a lot less ridic (that's ridiculous, not Riddick, you idiot). But if there is a union, do they have requirements? There are some similarities that seem universal among sign holders.One of these is the use of personal mp3 players. Probably ipods, judging by the trendy young crowd the job (somehow!) attracts. Sometime I wanna talk to one of these girls and find out what they are listening to, is there a required playlist? Whatever they are listening to, its garbage, no doubt (or garbage like No Doubt, zing!). Probably ish they play on the radio. Jason Derulo? That guys a massive tool. Who really needs to say their own name at the beginning of every one of their songs. That is what we call shameless self promotion, and it makes you look like a total stooge.
       So seriously girls. Let's get real. You need to quit that job, or just grow a pair, and tell your boss to go dance like a maniac himself. If your willing to do that for practically nothing then whats next? Prostitution? Selling crack? Selling security systems? You can do better. There are women's rescues all over the state, find one. Go to them, tell them your story. Who knows, it might someday make a great Lifetime movie, and maybe they can get the Olsen twins to play you (fingers crossed!!!).


(Any words that are Orange can be clicked on for links to related material that may or may not help you understand my humor, thank you)

I can eat an entire bag of cheetos (puffs) in one sitting.

Yep, you read that right, an entire bag. It's just one of my many super human skills that you will learn of as you stalk me. You can just think of this as my Seinfeld blog. It's really about nothing. Nothing at all. 

      Lately. my lovely wife Brittany Ann has been very into reality television. Well really just one show, Sister Wives. If you haven't seen it google that ish immediately (I don't actually know if Googling it enables you to watch it, but I like to imagine that solves everything). If you haven't seen it or Googled it then here is the skinny, there is a polygamous family living in Lehi Utah, the husbands name is Cody, and he has 3 wives. He is "courting" a fourth as the series goes on and she marries in as lucky numero quatro (4). They all live in a big house. Its totally bizarre.  

       So Brit watched the first few episodes without me- I know, rude right?- so the first time I saw it was on like the 3rd episode. And I must say, that show is nuts. It amazes me people are still doing that. I mean, its like one of those things that you knew went on at one time, and you try not to think about it. But Sister Wives just throws it right in your fat, tv loving face. And, the craziest part about it all is, they pull it off and act like its a semi-normal kind of life (Not to be confused with third eye blinds smash 1997 hit, semi-charmed kind of life). Freaky deeky indeed. So the point is I watched like 8 episodes in one sitting, just to catch up with my wife. I would have gladly watched more, but there are only 8 episodes out. Make sure and tune in Sunday at 6:00 for the next riveting installment! Riveting installment really is a strange phrase, it sounds like something women did during WWII or something, but now I'm just way off base. (We Can Do It!)

      So the whole dang reason I brought up this Sister Wives garbage' (pronounced gar-bagge', it sounds less trashy that way) is because I saw the husband from the show, Cody, driving outside of UVU this morning about 9:17. So my first instinct was to flip around and follow his A. I don't know why, I've never really been the stalking type... but then I stopped myself and thought, "What am I doing?" I guess I was just overcome by his celebrity. And I realized how pathetic that is. He is barely worthy the title celebrity. It helped me realize something though, I would be one of those crazy gushing fans if I ever saw someone genuinely famous like say, Beyonce'. I can see myself outside of TRL now..... 'The camera pans passed Beyonce' and Carson Daly (yes, I'm that old), and focuses on the milling crowd outside. Girlishly screaming and violently pushing his way to the front of the crowd is a tall, rail thin, Jake Monsen. Teenage girls and boys go flying as pointed elbows catch helpless young teeny-boppers. What a pathetic vision eh? Yikes. Let's just say it would be more awkward than the time someone ordered a female stripper for Michael Jackson's bachelor party, lots of crying and huddling in corners. 

      Needless to say I will be working on my celebrity self control. If I ever see Whitney Houston I will control the urge to tackle her. I will not pick up anyone's trash and sell it on ebay, I won't have Rob Thomas sign my chest then quickly have it tatooed on. I pledge to be polite, courteous, and thoughtful to all celebrities of all kinds, except for Disney characters. You know who you are and what you did (Pluto, you white trash perve). 

       Manic fans are such a nuisance these days, and I just hate to be part of the problem. I wanna be the solution, the non-salene kind (contact solution joke- lame sauce).