I’m Sorry

I sincerely apologize to anyone who ever read this blog. I originally started it out of boredom, thinking nobody other than my family and a few friends would read it. In the months since I essentially abandoned it I have had people I haven’t spoken to in years, not to mention complete strangers, ask me why I stopped writing. Apparently everyone found it quite funny, and I was just starting to gain a more serious following when I quit.

I’m not sure why I did. I had more stories to tell, more hilarious encounters, but for whatever reason I just stopped writing. I can blame it on a busy semester, but truth be told I skipped plenty of class and could’ve written instead. I want to finish with “I guess I just…” but I really don’t know.

But in two weeks I am moving to Athens to start school at UGA, and in my visits so far this summer I already have good stories. Not to mention the stories I already had that I never told in the first place. So I’m going to start back writing. I won’t be updating daily. In fact I’m not going to update on any sort of regular basis whatsoever. But I will update. And I hope you’ll check back from time to time and see what I’m up to. First new story in a long time is coming soon. Stay tuned.

Josh

The Hiatus

Hello everyone.

As you already know Parmesan Fleas has had a serious lack of posts for a little while now. Well, I’ve been quite busy with school and life and as much as I would like to put all of that on the back burner and write nonsensical articles, society dictates that this is unacceptable. However, the hiatus has taught that a lot more people read this blog than I thought, and that I must have been doing something right because I’ve gotten more than 20 emails regarding new articles.

Well rest assured that the Parm is not done and new articles are on the way. I think I may have been somewhat overzealous in trying to post daily. In doing that not only am I expending material incredibly quickly, but the articles aren’t as hilarious as they could be because I am just trying to get them posted. Thanks for all the messages and concerns though, and check back soon for a new article, only at Parmesan Fleas.

Josh

More Help Than Needed

Ever since Al Gore invented the internet, people have had trouble using it. Some people can’t even turn on their computers, some can’t set up their router, and some can’t figure out why the blogosphere isn’t round. I have never had any of these problems, as things like the internet generally come pretty easily to me. Math? Not so much, but the internet, yes.

Yesterday I decided to list an item on Ebay, so I went to the site and started the process. I’ve had an Ebay account for quite some time, but I’ve never used it. I just wanted to get the name awhile ago, because new members have that little star next to their name and that little star is a blockade against trust. Nobody is going to bid $800 on some toast with the face of Jesus in it if you have that little star next to your name.

I got to the screen where I was choosing my method of payment for the posting fee, and I needed to update my credit card info. I clicked the “Edit Card” link and nothing happened. I clicked again, and nothing. I know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results, but I mean, it’s Ebay. They couldn’t possibly have a dead link. Not Ebay.

As it turns out Ebay offers no call center because they want to make things as difficult as possible, so instead they have a “Live Support” feature where you can chat with a guide who will try and help you with your problem. I’ve always thought that these were really just smart computers that analyze your responses, but I’ve always been too scared to type anything random in to see. If you feel so bold, I would type “boobies.” If it’s a computer, it will probably just ignore it. If it’s a person, well good luck to you.

The support person, whose screen name was Ved, walked me through various steps to fix the problem. She kept trying to take me on different link paths to get to the page I needed, but everything took me back to that one dead link. Eventually I just got fed up and decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble and I would use Paypal.  I told Ved this and things got interesting.

Me:  Thanks for the help, but I think I’ll just use Paypal.

Ved: No, I should be thanking you. You have been too kind and patient.

Me: Haha, no worries. You tried to help, that’s all I can ask for.

Ved: I wish I could’ve helped you more. You seem great.

Me: Haha. Anyway, thanks again.

Ved: So what are you trying to sell?

Me: Uh, a cigar cutter.

Ved: Ooo you smoke cigars? My ex-boyfriend smoked cigars, I love them.

Me: That’s great, you should go bid on my cutter then.

Ved: Haha you’re funny too. So where do you live?

I didn’t answer this question, but instead closed the window. I have never been hit on by a (hopefully) girl on the internet, much less one from an Ebay support center, but I know it’s not something I’m comfortable with. Then again I could be wrong about the whole thing and it was still a computer. Damn crazy smart horny computers.

Josh

The Valentine Rant

**In case this is your first time here, Parmesan Fleas is a humor blog, despite the following article. I have only put it up since it is seasonably applicable. If you are looking for humor, there are 20+ hilarious articles under this one, and I hope you enjoy them all. The comedy will be back fresh in just a few days. Thanks, Josh.**

For those of you that read this blog who know me well, you knew this was coming. For those of you who don’t, I look forward to hearing your opinions regarding my beliefs on Valentine’s Day. I will approach this argument carefully and with tact. I will also put this disclaimer up, as I have on every Valentine Rant prior: I realize not all people share my beliefs. If you feel differently than me, write me and say why. I can respect anyone’s opinion and perhaps your argument will be convincing enough for me to change my beliefs.

I feel that Valentine’s Day is one of the most ridiculous, overrated, heartless concepts we as humans could partake in. The idea that all people everywhere should stand up for love is a wonderful idea; this is not at all what Valentine’s Day is about. Valentine’s Day is an idea people (not just girls) use to force a display of emotion out of someone, generally a significant other. This is my first problem with it.

I am in no way a warrior against the idea of love. I think being able to share your life with someone is a beautiful thing. I recently had a situation that, while far from love, may well have been on its way there. I could not wait to see this girl and talk to her, even about the smallest of things. It didn’t matter what we were saying, it was the bond underneath, the connection that set her apart from being just one of my friends. (This situation is still being worked out; when I know if there’s another chapter or just an epilogue I’ll be sure to edit this post accordingly. Let’s all keep our fingers crossed for another chapter though.)

I hope that last paragraph shows that I do not despise love in and of itself. I despise the idea that there is one day where I am supposed to express my love in a visible way for no reason other than that everyone else is doing it. When I feel something for someone I show her whenever the mood strikes. I text her just to say hi. I bring her a box of Whoppers because we talked about how we both love them on the phone the day before. I tackle her onto the bed and jump around like an earthquake until we’re both laughing so hard we’re crying. I show up and take her out to eat and actually have a meaningful conversation, even if she is dressed in ridiculous clothes that nobody would find her beautiful in but me. I do these things not because there is a standard telling me to, but because I want to.

Valentine’s Day takes this idea and shoves it into a convenient (or inconvenient, depending on your view) package for everyone. There are some boyfriends who love it because they only have to take their girl out on this one day and she’s content. (I can’t imagine dating a girl who would actually think that way; that lack of expression is not a relationship, no matter how you slice it.) Women can mirror this as well, cooking something or wearing something special for him on this one day. (Again, I would never stay with a girl who thought that one evening of romance would make up for a year of mediocrity.) My point is, buying the card and getting the flowers and going to Red Lobster doesn’t prove in any way that you love someone. It proves you own a calendar.

I hope I haven’t offended too many hearts or lost too many readers with this post. I hope that I made my case clear, and that nobody thinks I just hate the idea of love. Love is the most beautiful thing on this Earth, and in time, I hope everyone (including myself) experiences a true love. A love that exists in the little texts, or the box of Whoppers, or the bed earthquakes. The idea that originally created Valentine’s Day is a beautiful one, but the day in itself is just no good.

Love,

Josh

Well That Depends, Officer

If you’ve ever been to Rome, Georgia, you know that the town is almost famous for the number of cops around. Rome has the highest number of cops per capita in the state and something like the 4th highest in the country. I think they might have one assigned to watch each and every red light in town. The irony is that when you run your Mustang into a brick mailbox castle it takes one of them about 4 hours to get there, then they accuse you of speeding. Thank you Captain Obvious.

Anyway, the cops tend to congregate around Broad Street on Friday and Saturday nights, which is probably a welcome change from pulling third shift stakeout duty down at the Texaco all week long. They patrol the sidewalk and randomly ask for id’s in front of all the bars, making sure to get the full power trip. Yeah, they may have made C’s in middle school and only barely passed their G.E.D’s, but on the weekends they act as the long, dumb arm of the law.

A few weekends back I was leaving a local cigar bar with a friend of mine. The bar is 18-to-party, so it wasn’t illegal for me to be in there, but when my friend and I walked out, a cop right by the door gave me a judgmental look, almost as if to say “I hate you for having a future.” I didn’t think anything about it since it happens all the time, and Matt and I walked walked to his car and pulled out. From where he had been parked, we had to turn left onto Broad Street and go back past the bar we had left.

When Matt turned he got into the right lane, but saw that there was a police cruiser parked there and swerved over to the left to avoid hitting it. The cop who had glared at me literally flew to his car, started up the siren, and came after us. Matt pulled over and the cop took his time making his way up to the car. I’ve known Matt a long time and since he’s a pre-law student, he likes to take full advantage of his rights.

Cop: Son, just what were you doing back there?

Matt: I believe that was driving, sir.

Cop: Don’t get smart with me son. You aren’t in a position to be shooting off wisecracks. You were all over the road back there.

Matt: Well sir, I turned and when I noticed your cruiser was illegally parked in the middle of the lane I got over to avoid hitting it and getting you in trouble.

That’s right. As it turns out, if a police officer doesn’t have at least his flashers on, his car is in no way privileged from anyone else’s. So leaving his car in the middle of the lane was illegal.

The officer told us he would be back and walked off, talking on his radio. He sounded a little angry then started heading back towards our car. My guess is that he was consulting another officer about the best way to counter Matt’s argument, because he came back with gusto and a whole new angle.

Officer: Son, have you been doing any drinking tonight?

Matt: Well no sir. I’m not 21, so that would be illegal, sir.

Officer: Would you be willing to submit to a breathalyzer?

Matt: Well that depends, Officer. Does it detect crack?

The officer didn’t take too kindly to that and called for backup. We ended up sitting there for about a half hour with Matt debating with the officers as to whether he had actually broken any laws. As it turned out he hadn’t and we eventually got to go free. The rest of the night was pretty uneventful for us, but I’m sure those cops spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out if Matt had been serious about the crack comment or not. I guess that’s a secret that will remain between me, him, and the guy that sold us the crack.

Josh