the setup: there are three guys in this scene: billy, james, and dave. they’re basically interchangeable characters, but james is the one who just broke up with his girlfriend. as you’ll see, all three guys have a lot to learn about the opposite sex…

james: rachel and i just broke up.

dave: on your anniversary?

james: was it?

billy: forget about her, man. women are stupid.

james: statistically.

billy: statistically, you’re stupid.

james: she said i treated her too much like a woman, and that she wasn’t going to be my “housewife.”

billy: that’s harsh.

dave: yeah, i understand where she’s going with it, though. honestly, i think i’m one of those guys, those guys that still like holding doors and standing on the porch with roses and picking up the check at the restaurant—

james: she pays the tip, though.

billy: and you only do that for the first few dates. after that, you go dutch.

dave: oh, yeah. what am i, made of money? but, i mean, i’m still into the whole chivalry thing, it’s not dead to me, but when i get married, and this is what rachel was talking about, my wife’s gonna work if she wants to… it’s whatever she wants. she’s not going to just stay home and raise babies and clean the house and cook dinner, unless—

billy: if my wife ever tried to cook for me, i’d hit her.

dave: see, billy would hit her. that’s his thing.

james: she would always be mad at me for no reason. it’s like i never had her figured out.

dave: okay, okay. well, who do you think are more emotional, men or women?

(silence. james starts crying.)

billy: way to be an insensitive fucking prick, dave.

james: i’m sorry i’m crying. i thought you said “train station.” rachel and i broke up at a train station.

billy: it’s okay, buddy.

james: she bought a one-way ticket to “no longer in my life,” and that was it. the worst part is… when i got home, there were all these dirty dishes in the sink. i cooked dinner. the least she could’ve done was wash the dishes before she left.

dear tony roma’s management,

this is my two weeks notice, approximately. my last day should be sunday, december 18.

i’m sorry we have to part ways and i wish you the best of luck in the future, but i’m not going to cut my hair for anyone.

sincerely,
anthony thompson

dear peter g. balbus,

as one of the world’s premiere futurists, please indulge the professional curiosity of this aspiring futurist.

i know your field is hard to break into, but i feel i have the “intangibles” required to be an all-star futurist. would you mind evaluating some of my amatuer futurist predictions? this is what i have so far:

1) you won’t answer this email
2) my girlfriend will leave me shortly after i resign my current career to pursue futurism
3) oprah’s army of androids will destroy wyoming in early 2012
4) the professional association i founded, “futurists for america” will reach its enrollment plateau at 3 members
5) 2 members will thereafter resign due to the high enrollment fees.
6) someone will posthumously find this post, see that all of my predictions have come true, and i will be known forever as the greatest futurist.

well, let me know what you think? do i have a shot in your industry? ha ha, almost gotcha! (see prediction #1).

sincerely,
brian skowron
future futurist

dear diary,

a while ago, this hollywood bigshot named merv griffin came into my office with an idea for a tv show called “what’s the question?”. it was your typical quiz show, except the questions would be worded as answers and the answers as questions. make sense? anyway, at the time, i didn’t like the idea, but i thought, what am i going to do? it’s merv griffin! that guy owns more of broadcast television than the american people.

so we shot a pilot, if i remember correctly, and the show tested well. i thought, whatever, people always like stupid shit. we change the show’s name to “jeopardy.” it turns out that everyone in america LOVES THIS STUPID THING! i’m suddenly swept into the spotlight: i’m doing interviews, i’m producing a new tv show every week, people are recognizing me on the street (even though they’ve never seen me, they just know my name!), and, of course—

i’m getting married! finally!

you see, over the last few years, all of my producer friends have either gotten married or o.d.’ed (that’s a cheap joke, r.i.p.) or become confirmed lifelong bachelors, so i’ve been starting to feel, well, like a loser… eh, more like i haven’t received my invite to that big invitation-only dinner party… or like i haven’t been paying my dues to the mightiest of unions: the union of two souls… make sense?

it doesn’t look like we’re going to have one of those big fancy weddings, though. you know, the ones with the layered cakes and flowers that symbolize a new beginnings and someone’s adorable nephew serving as ring bearers and family being inviteds and honeymoons… i seem to remember her saying something about “doing this only for tax purposes, ” but, whatever, this is a day she’s probably been waiting for since i was a little boy, so i’ll let her plan everything. i’m just here to help out!

oh, diary, i bet you want to know how this all happened! let’s see… i proposed to her last thursday, standing directly underneath the eiffel tower. as the sun was setting and french people were being snobby, i got down on one knee, barechested, and gently said to her, “your response to my marriage proposal,” and she responded, “what is ‘i do’?”

i owe all of this happiness to merv griffin. unfortunately, he has declined to be my best man. or a witness. he’ll have other obligations that day, whenever we set a date.

sincerely,
m.s.g.

you may not know this because i never invite you over, but we recently moved out of burbank. now don’t cry, valley scum, i’ll still visit! and don’t worry, tony roma’s burbank, i’m not motivated enough to get another job, so i’ll be working for you for the rest of my life!

anyway, what this means for you, our faithful readers, is that i will be writing more things for this website because, honestly, there’s really nothing else to do while i’m stuck on the 5 than think of hilarious ideas for articles—unless i’m too busy flipping off every old woman who’s driving 30 in the fast lane.

but who wants to be that guy?

thursday night, on my way home from work, i started to pool together all of my thoughts on driving. so, here’s a list of driving habits, etc. and what they say about the person that does them.

drives over 100 mph: whoa, slow down, buddy, this isn’t a race! you’re not taking the time to appreciate the little things in life. you’ve never stopped in the park to watch a leaf fall, and you’ve never just sat on the beach and realized how wonderful life can be. or you’ve mismanaged your time and are late for work. wow, we’ve all been there!

doesn’t use a turn signal: you are an extremely selfish, self-centered person. a turn signal serves no purpose to you; it’s only helpful to other drivers. you like to be on the bottom, and you probably refer to yourself in third-person. anthony always uses his turn signal, unless he’s trying to impress a “lady friend.”

leaves turn signal on for miles: did you forget to lock the front door? did you forget to turn the stove off? do you know where your kids are? how many fingers am i holding up? if you answered “3” to any of these, you are right.

uses the carpool lane: you have a lot of friends. unfortunately, they are all poor and cannot afford cars of their own. you’d think carpooling would be a great way to spend quality time with your closest friends, but have you ever heard of a caravan? nothing says “fun” like a caravan!

rides a motorcycle: it’s just you, by yourself, and you don’t need anybody else. you’re the fastest thing on the road, but where are you going?

yep, that’s the list. as i exited the 134, my belly full of ribs and barbecue sauce, i started to develop this game where i try to think of as many three-letter, two-syllable words as possible, but i couldn’t think of any.

friends
family
thanksgiving
turkey
the mayflower compact


(part two of a two-part thanksgiving posting extravaganza)

thanksgiving’s a pretty tricky holiday. here are some things that have ruined the festivities for me in the past (well, last year… but whatever… i’m over it):

• forgetting to defrost the turkey

• no one made stuffing?

• anything involving re-enactments

• high jinks and shenanigans!

• accidentally saying the word “indian” in front of your cherokee brother-in-law, ahote—“injun” is even worse

• making it a “weekend”

• unvitations

• “mom and dad, there’s something you should know…”

• jet lag

• belts

• crying yourself to sleep, alone and unloved

• flatulent grandma

to make a little extra scratch, i’ve started working as a delivery driver for the thai place down the street. working two jobs is tough, but those hospital bills ain’t gonna pay themselves! last night i was delivering a couple bucketfuls of yellow curry to a house up in the hills, and who should open up the door but AEROSMITH, one of the biggest bands in the biz! lucky for the internet they agreed to do an interview, right on the spot!

me: wow, it’s really an honor to talk with you.

aerosmith: there are supposed to be two orders of sticky rice.

me: great, guys. so tell me, what was it like working with alicia silverstone in those videos you guys did when i was in 6th grade?

aerosmith: she was a real sweetheart. actually, there’s a funny story-

me: OOH! remember that video game you guys did where you have a gun that shoots CDs instead of bullets? what was that called?

aerosmith: revolution-

me: REVOLUTION X: MUSIC IS THE WEAPON! i bet you guys play that shit all the fucking time!

aerosmith: well…

me: how often do you guys play that game?

aerosmith: it’s been a while, actually.

me: seriously, because if i were you guys i would spend at least a good 3 or 4 hours every day just playing that game.

aerosmith: what do we owe you for the food?

me: i assume you have an authentic arcade cabinet?

aerosmith: ...

me: yeah, i would probably rig that thing up for free play and just go to town on it.

aerosmith: well, we don’t want to keep you.

me: hey, has anyone ever actually made a gun that shoots CDs? i bet you guys would buy one, right?

aerosmith: just take this money and leave.

that’s about where my cassette recorder ran out of tape, but we had a blast the rest of the night.

finally, an editor read one of my letters to him (or her!).

dear PEOPLE magazine,


please, make matthew mchfdnhghy the “sexiest man alive.”


sincerely,
anthony
hope, ca