I Saw the Future (And You Can Too!)

The first version of this article was originally published by myself on Feb. 16th, 2009 on another site.   

Not all of it is relevant now, but me thinks it still makes for a decent read.

So I worked out today with the intensity of a coked-up barbarian...and vomited.

Apparently, it has something to do with a reaction to the breaking down of proteins in the system.

Disgusting, right?

Well my experience today was far from the disgusting.  My vision blurred, I could barely stand, and I kind of felt like Charlie when he ate an entire pizza and drank 24 beers all in a single sitting.


"Guys, if I'm peeing wake me up!"



The thing that happened next, however, is what I'm here to tell you all about:

I saw the future.

At least I think I did.  Maybe it'll happen, maybe it won't.  But I've gotta admit, it all seems pretty damned possible.  I've never been one to think about what is yet to come.  I hate making plans.  The very thought of what I'm going to do with the rest of my life makes me immediately hop on the computer and go to one of those Youtube-style porn sites and start jerking away, just so I can live in the moment again.

Some will support me.  Some will betray me.  And some, well...let's just say that they give a darn good blow-J.  I'm damn proud of what I've accomplished, though.  I'm going to write a novel, and not like any of the trash I've started and thrown aside in the past.  This one gets finished, and published on a global scale.  Oprah wants to make it one of her book club selections, which would easily make me millions of dollars, but I decline. I say something along the lines of  "If you're taking suggestions from that yoyo-dieting messiah of the housewife, there's a good chance I don't even want you reading it."  It turns out this was just an awful, awful decision and choice of words. 

My tv series will begin airing in 2015 on Showtime.  The two main characters are based on my good friend Ian and myself, and the two actors emulating us will eventually grow to hate the characters because they're so identified with them.  It's going to be the next Seinfeld, only with hot, nude women with little butterfly tattoos on their hips bathing in the background of every scene.  David Duchovney, eat your heart out.

Being on the cover of Men's Health and the article that was published in the issue inspires me to write a book full of healthy versions of your favorite meals.  Full of protein and other muscle-building goodness.  Try the Chicken Kiev; it's fuckin' delicious.

Now, onto the darker side of my future:

Despite my successes, my love life is in shambles.  You see, I have a certain predilection toward unavailable women.  Taken?  Lesbian?  Would rather make love to a pine cone than me?

I love you.

As it turns out, this is my downfall.  They're going to find me dead on a hotel room floor surrounded by bottles full of unrequited love.  No note, no phone call.  I'm discovered by a married chambermaid, who had rejected my advances just hours before.

God damn, I can't let this happen.  I won't let myself go that way.

There's got to be a way to break this curse.  Anybody have some charred cat bones?  Maybe an eyeball taken from one of those horse/zebra hybrids?


Turns out witchcraft is more of a hassle than it's worth.

The way I figure it, there's only one possible solution:  Get out while I can.

If I come across a woman who's unavailable and also completely irresistible, I'm not walking, I'm running in the opposite direction.  No more attempted courtship.  No more becoming "the other man".  No more self-emasculation.

No more time wasted.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some broadband-speed internet porn to jerk off to.


Carry on, my wayward son.

Photo by David LaChappelle