Eyelids. Gross.

I came home today motivated to sit down and write something really funny and clever. I couldn't come up with anything. So instead I looked at pictures I've taken of myself when my eczema looked terrible. This is from 2 weeks ago when I was in France. I was on my way to Aix-en-Provence to visit my friend Kim who I haven't seen in 8 years. Look at my eyelids, don't they look they might peel off?

Today some Scandinavian girl asked me where Broome street was. I told her, but her and her friend didn't believe me. She had really, really, really, really big boobs. They were cool. The boobs, not the girls. Well, they might have been cool too but we didn't really talk about anything other than directions.

I've noticed that I like to keep in touch with anyone that doesn't take themselves too seriously. Last year I approached a girl on the train and asked her for her phone number. Obviously, I was shitfaced. Is shitfaced hyphenated? Shit-faced. So yeah, I asked her for her phone number and she actually gave it to me. She was Argentinian and so was her friend. I never hung out with either of them but we chat through Facebook sometimes. Should I not be doing that? When you hate as many people, and types of people, as I do, you tend to try to hang on to the people that aren't fuckfaces. Is fuck-faces hyphenated? They were cool. The girls, not their boobs. Actually, their boobs are probably pretty cool too.

My apartment is a total mess. I think it might be a metaphor for my life. It's perfectly OK, it could be amazing, but I'll never get around to cleaning it up and putting any effort into it.

But lord knows I'll sit back and say I will, tomorrow.

Dating Websites.

There have been far too many mornings where I have waken up (woken up, awakened, what the fuck is it?) with an unused Kleenex in my hand. For you innocents out there, this means that I was preparing to masturbate in my bed, with my computer next to me, not my iPad because it doesn't have Flash, and apparently you need to have Flash to watch a lot of the videos of naked girls I have found that are satisfying (enough) but then fell asleep before I could do it, because I walked too many dogs. That's not a euphemism for boning too many willing women, it's my job. Walking dogs is tiring. And I had Kleenex because it's the perfect way to clean up the millions of baby Martys that don't really deserve a place in this world anyways. I mean seriously, do we really need a more entitled, bitter, ill-peckered, dickhead roaming Mother Earth coming up with out-of-place dick jokes and trolling the internet, all while telling the whole world wide web every single pathetic detail of his life? No, we don't.

OkCupid. Tinder. Should I do it? I've never really put serious thought into joining a dating website. And contrary to what some people might think, it's not because I think they are lame. I get it. Life is lonely. You're born alone, you die alone. Why not use a tool that's available to possibly make life a little less lonely? If that's by combing through potential matches of pictures of people you might spend the rest of your life with, on your phone on the subway, while trying to ignore the 2Chainz songs coming out of the Indian kid's, who keeps saying "nigga" to his do-ragged Indian friends, cellphone. Then so be it. I wish you well.

The truth is, I've never considered getting on a dating website because I'm not exactly sure I'm in the mood to meet new people. Do I need more "friends"? Do I really want to talk about what I majored in college? Or what ethnicity I am? Or why I moved to New York City? Or why I have a mid-life crisis every 4-6 days? Or why I wear button down shirts with two pockets on the chest to hide my man boobs?

And do I want to ask those questions, and then listen to the answers to those questions?

Sometimes I wonder if my quaint free time spent taking guitar lessons, working out, trying really hard not to eat cookies, trolling the internet, is really just a guard I've placed against fears in my life. Maybe I'm avoiding dating because I'm afraid of being disappointed when nothing but trolls, whales, ghouls, and goblins show up on my e-dating match list. Or maybe I don't want to go on a bad date and have to awkwardly shake hands with some girl that started a statement with, "I don't want to sound racist but..." Or maybe I'm not in the mood to explain why I have a "pecker" and not a "penis."

"Penis."

If I'm being completely honest, I actually think I'm more interested in learning new things, about the world, about myself, about life, than I am about getting blowjobs. Is that weird? Am I doing it wrong?

If I do decide to join one of these sites, a friend has provided me with a strategy that I'm starting to think is a bit genius. He told me to use Tinder, download an app that Likes everyone, and see what connections are made. If there, for some totally fucking strange reason, are cute girls that I'm interested in meeting, I could invite them to a night out and let them know I'll be with a couple friends. This way, they can bring a few friends, and there is a lot less pressure than going out for dinner and having to worry about paying for several entrees and making up interesting things I haven't done. At the very least, we'll be at a bar with our friends meeting new people, wondering if I just tried to set up some sort of weird orgy. Maybe it's the pussy way out. But it's a pretty good idea.

Unfortunately, all of my friends are taller, better looking, and funnier than me. I'm usually used as the bait. Sometimes I'm the bitter guy that has Kleenex balls under his bed that can be cracked in half. And sometimes, I'm a walking aphrodisiac...for other people. I butter the biscuits but I never get to taste them. There have been quite a few times where (I thought) I've charmed a lady only to find out she's got a boyfriend that she's now rushing home to go to after laughing at all the lines I've practiced for hours and stolen from people a lot cooler than me. So that leaves me with a new problem. I have to find new friends. Friends that are lame, lack fun facts, under 5-foot-6, and hopefully more Asian.

OkCupid? Tinder? Interested in: Friends.

- Marty

Give Up.

"I want to work in comedy."

I think this is the biggest lie I've ever told anyone. And I've told almost everyone. What the fuck does it even mean? Every single day I think about writing on this blog or going to try some of my terrible standup material. And every single day, except for a few, I don't do it. I wander around, I watch a TV show, I complain about entitled people, I exercise, I think about money, I laugh at white people, I call the dogs nerds, I make fun of everything, I think about going on dates, I question my insecurities, I wonder if I'll die alone, and I think about eating cookies, and then I eat cookies. But I don't write and I don't do standup.

For as long as I can remember, making people laugh has always been the most important thing in my life. Not Michael Jordan. Not learning new things. Not looking at the stars. Not having children. Not having sex with beautiful women. Not traveling. Not pizza. Not the superiority of black people on the dance floor, and most other cool things. Not my mom. She'll die at some point. Probably relatively soon but hopefully not for a long time. Not any of those things. Ha. Ha. Ha. That's what is important to me.

But let me be honest. I always try to be. What I should have said is this: I want to be as successful and funny and as respected as Larry David. Or Louis CK. Or Dave Chappelle. Or whoever else is totally awesome. Because I don't want to work in comedy. I don't want to put the work into embarrassing open mics. I don't want to write clever blog posts, especially if I'm trying to force myself not to make a jackin' off joke. I don't want to spend any more lonely hours in my head. I don't want to come up with any more lies on what I'm doing to pursue a career in comedy. I just want to complain and get a trophy.

And that's never going to happen.

So that's why I'm giving up on the dreams I never had.

And let me tell you...

...it feels amazing.

I mean seriously, could you imagine if giving up on your dreams was hard work? If you had to finish an obstacle course, or take a standardized test, or listen to a Coldplay album all the way through? What agony that would be! Nope, none of it. You don't have to do a fucking thing! I mean seriously. Nothing. You could be walking down the street, stressed out after a recent mess-up at your last breakdancing "battle." I don't know, maybe you didn't do as many headspins or some other lame-ass shit like that. I mean seriously, if breakdancing is your dream, just give up. It's lame. Nobody is impressed when you clear a space at a party where people are having fun and not busting out pre-rehearsed dance moves, nobody cares. You should have given up on that dream a long time. You shouldn't have had it in the first place really. I mean, breakdancing? C'mon. Anyways, you could be walking down the street thinking about how tough of a breakdancing struggle your life has been. How everyone has always doubted you. No matter how right they were. And they probably were right. And you can just stop what you're doing. Give up. That's it. How amazing is that? Be free, bboy! No letter to your congressman. No phone-call to the girlfriend you don't have. Nothing. How does it feel? Completely amazing, I know. I just gave up on my dreams. And I feel the same way!

Read all of these quotes about Failure.

They're all wrong.

“You’re not obligated to win. You’re obligated to keep trying. To the best you can do everyday.” 
― Jason Mraz

Yep, even Jason Mraz. He's wrong.

"Failing is awesome. Giving up is awesome. It means you don't have to try again."
- Marty C.

Chicago Bulls. Champions.

On May 12, 2012, I told the world that our beloved Chicago Bulls would have to wait a year to begin their title run. I was wrong. We had to wait a lot longer.

Last year's Bulls team was great. They were hardworking, exciting, frustrating, hilarious, entertaining, filled with black guys (and whatever Carlos Boozer is), and a team we were all proud of. I had a great time watching them. After [more] unfortunate injuries and a near death (sorry Luol!), we got to watch the Bulls play their asses off only to get bounced by LeBron James and his landing strip of a forehead (bald on bald crime, I ain't above it). Oh well. For all you sissies out there that got your sweatpants twisted around your suffocating penises because Derrick Rose decided to sit out the entire season, you can all go back to the local hot dog places you came from and choke on several. Dicks, not hot dogs.

D-Rose was straight stuntin' in them suits.

And now we're here. A year and a half from a terrific season with a horrific ending. It's time for the suit to come off. If you're like me, you sat around all offseason watching D-Rose clips on YouTube, remembering his two-handed throw downs, those moments when you looked at your friend and mouthed 'What. The. Fuck?!' while shivering with excitement.

The team looks as complete as it has in a very long time. Joakim Noah came into the season with a groin injury which means he was up to exactly what I thought he would be up to this offseason.

Is this picture photoshopped? He's got video game face.

Luol Deng is in a contract year. Carlos Boozer finally stopped lying to himself, at least with regards to his hair. Taj is healthy. And I'm still afraid of Jimmy Butler. Even with that hair. Seriously. The guy looks like he can straight fuck somebody up. I love him. And even though I can't believe I'm still watching Kirk Hinrich in a Bulls jersey, I'm OK with it. Mostly because if I'm going to constantly want to murder a white guy on the team, it's going to be 90's time-traveller, Mike Dunleavy. These are our Bulls.

I hate happy endings. They're always cheesy. I don't want the hero to live. I want him to get brutally murdered, his legacy forgotten, his wife married off to his better looking brother, and his kids to turn into Heat fans. No happiness. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. Smile at misery.

This, is different.

We teach our children to be individuals. To be strong, both in heart and in mind. To be courageous. To be intelligent. To be humble. And those of us smart enough to see the world for what it really is, teach our children to be the most honest versions of themselves in a world where we are all connected. We teach them that there is nothing individualistic, strong, courageous, intelligent, or humble about joining the popular side that is expected to win. We urge them to join the other side. To work hard. To motivate others. To build character. To build a team. To learn. To teach. To lead. And to build a legacy around all of those things.

That's what Chicago taught our #1 Native Son.

A Bulls championship. Sure, it's a happy ending. But that's not all it is. It's more than that. In a world of instant-gratification, celebrity, shortcuts, conformity, "fans" leaving before a close game is over, the Heat, and overall PUSSY-ness, it's The End. The End of all of that. I can feel it in my bones. LeBron, you are an amazing basketball player. Phenomenal. And probably a nice guy. But I don't believe you. WE do not believe you.

LeBron James, The End.

Bulls fans, we are here. Let's watch, let's believe, let's talk some motherfucking shit, and let's watch our boys back it up. And then let's celebrate. It's our time. D-Rose and the gang are going to teach us that we were right all along.

All. In.

- Marty Cuatchon

I like my grapefruits Ruby Red.

I'm so pissed off right now. I bought a grapefruit spoon today. They put the price sticker on the part you put in your mouth and now I can't get the glue off.

Would it be inappropriate to kill myself over this?

My Twerk Ethic.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Yellowsexuals.

I've always been a bit confused by white guys that seem to have a very specific "type." And that "type" being gooky-lookin' yellow Asian giggly bitches. Well, "Asian" is probably enough to describe it. In high school there were always a few dorky white guys that owned trench coats, or were really into video games, or studied some form of martial arts, or stayed after school for Asian-American-Ching-Chong Club, or were really into being bad at breakdancing, or used any other of the millions of geeky distractions (Japanese class, anime, etc.) to hide the fact that they were really trying to get some of that Yellow stanky on their Anglo hang-lows. In college I was too depressed by my bullshit problems to notice. Then I went to China and saw all kinds of white 45 year-old high school creepshows walking around with Chinese girls half their age who barely spoke English. It creeped me out, mostly because I was imagining what they were doing behind closed doors. My imagination wanders, often in the wrong direction.

Within the past few years I came across a number of white guys that were really into Asian girls and always thought it was weird. I should just accept that yellow women have the same wet parts (sideways or not) as all the other colors of women, so why wouldn't [white] men like them? But there is something about these guys I've always thought was a little different. And the thing is, I can't put it into words. And I can usually put everything into words. Often times disgusting words. Maybe it's me fishing around for those stereotypical high school character traits I've always attributed to these white guys suffering from yellow fever. But it's like the arrow in between the 'e' and the 'x' in Fedex, once you see it, you cannot not see it. Actually, that analogy doesn't really work. Like at all. I think I just wanted to use it to see if the reader knows what I'm talking about. And to sound creative. I'm going to hold onto that one and figure out how to use it some day.

I have come across a few black dudes or latinos who are really into Asian women. (And not just the Wu-Tang clan.) It's just not nearly as often. Black dudes often get distracted by the Extra-Fat vanilla ice cream, but I don't think it completely distracts them from all the other flavors. And latinos, especially the short ones, seem to be down to try just about anything (see: barrel-shaped Mexican women). Are Asian girls a White People Problem? Yes.

If you've ever hung out with my friends in NYC you will quickly notice that they are mostly male, and they mostly like other males. If you called me a fag stag, I wouldn't deny it but I would prefer you call me a fruit fly. They are absolutely fabulous! (For full effect, lisp the s's from here on out.) More than one of these friends has told me on different and separate occasions that if a white guy is really into yellow girls, he is gay. And when I thought about all of my past experiences with white men and their Asian girlfriends, it put things into a new perspective. I can't say that I think this stereotype is true, but I won't say it's not true.

So what is it that makes these g-rods think these white guys are masking their peter appetite with Asian girls? Do Asian girls have some sort of secret masculinity that I'm unaware of? Are they all Madonna fanatics? Do Asian girls rip off their shirts at the slightest hint of dance music or a chance to get a tan? Is it because Asian girls often lack shape? Does this lack of shape have these white guys lickin' their lips for some pre-pubescent boy flavor? I don't get it. But at the same time I think I do. I kinda see it. Asians are usually timid and non-confrontational. What better way to cover up your true sexuality than with a slanty-eyed girl that isn't going to ask questions and giggles at 93% of the shit you say?

Whatever it is, I know it doesn't matter. Who cares why these white guys prefer Asian girls? Maybe it's the porcelain skin, or the petite frames, or the good grades, or maybe because it's a permanent video game partner. Or maybe it's because they really do want penis in and around their faces. Oh well. I'm just fascinated about this conclusion my gay buddies have come to. White guys can go right on liking The Yellows. It don't matter to me, I like the brown ones with the butts. Actually, who am I kidding? I like the ones that look at me for at least 3 seconds. I'm in love with them at 4.

I think it was the white half of Drake that said, "Shout out to Asian girls, let the light dim sum."

Might not be gay, but sure is a...