Because our lives are more interesting than yours.

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This week I finally started Christmas shopping and realized that I’m pretty much flat broke.  I may have to actually get a job over Christmas break to pay off some bills — which got me thinking about this weeks blog entry.  Over the years I’ve held many job titles, and today I’m going to take the time to reflect over each one of them. 

My first job was being a shoe salesman at JCPenney’s.  I still cringe at the memories of trying to fit middle-aged women for shoes they obviously can’t afford.  The worst part was having to babysit their halfwit kids while they tried to decide if their giant monkey feet could fit into a size 13 sandal.  No, I’m sorry, we’re going to have to special order that for you.  Also, your kid just impaled himself on a $90 pair of stilettos.  Would you like to put that on your JCPenney card? 

Then came Hot Topic.  I hate emo kids, so why not sell them clothes, right?  Wrong.  I hated this job with a passion.  I spent eight hours a day folding shirts and listening to the same three Sublime songs over and over again.  Seriously, I think it’s time to stop playing their music; Brad Nowell died of a heroin overdose over 12 years ago.  I envy him.

Then there was the few months I worked at Giant Food Supermarkets.  As if that wasn’t the biggest crock of bullshit ever.  For some reason they promoted customer friendliness at the monthly meetings.  Honestly, is there a need for that?  Do I really need to greet you with a smile and ask how your day is going when you come through U-Scan at 11 p.m. with a roll of duct tape and six feet of rope?  Oh, you’re paying with cash only?  No surprise there.  And how about the balding 30 year old men who give me attitude when I don’t bag your bundle of roses.  Here’s an idea — why don’t you go home and get back to beating up your fat wife?  We all know that’s the only reason you’re buying these in the first place.  And while you’re at it, why don’t you pick up some aerosol on Bonus Buy, because you smell like a cheap hooker.

Speaking of Giant, I think people are abusing the privilege of the motorized wheelchair carts.  Those are meant for people who have an actual physical ailment.  Being middle-aged and too lazy to walk your fat ass over to the bakery for half a dozen doughnuts is not a physical ailment.  Maybe if you used those tiny chicken legs of yours every once in a while they wouldn’t wobble under the weight of that bloated watermelon you call a head.  And don’t have the nerve to complain to me about raising the price of doughnuts by five cents — we all know you’re going to put them on Food Stamps anyways.

Then came my job at a day care working in the nursery.  A word to all employers: If you explicitly tell me not to do something, I’m obviously going to do it.  God wouldn’t have given babies a “soft spot” unless you were meant to use it.  It’s like natures own little “self destruct” button.  Looks like this time curiosity killed the cat, and the cat’s name was Julian.  R.I.P. little buddy.  I can’t believe I got fired on the first day.

Then came my two week job working for the Messiah College Suicide Hotline.  All I can say is wow, I clearly didn’t understand the job description.  The whole time I thought we were in competition for the high score.  And F.Y.I. Adam Lawton never loses.  This inspired me to go on to become Vanna White’s substitute on Wheel of Fortune.  That’s right boys and girls — sometimes suicide is the answer.

Honestly, I just miss the good ol’ days of selling drugs to fifth graders.  Remember: It’s not technically “dealing” if the currency is Pokemon cards.  That’s right, bitches — I’ve got six Charizards.

If you know me at all, you’ve probably heard me quote the movie Howl’s Moving Castle at some point or another.  Well, Adam Lawton always aims to please, so guess what?  By popular demand, I bring you this week’s blog topic:  “What’s the point in living if I can’t be beautiful?”

Let’s face it, society has become shallow.  We only care about what’s on the outside .  I have amazing friends, each talented in their own way.  But are we popular?  No.  My friend Nathaniel can write some incredibly detailed novels, brilliant for someone our age.  Joe can fix almost any computer problem known to man, and Nick can bloat up to the size of a puffer fish if you put him within five feet of a jar of peanut butter.  If that’s not talent, I don’t know what is.

Yet for some reason, none of that seems to matter as much as wearing Abercrombie & Fitch and looking like a total tool. All the popular people I know are complete and utter morons.  Congratulations, Stacey, I’m sure deep-throating that banana is going to get you far in your career — maybe if you keep trying you can fill that gaping void in your soul.  And yes, Derek, we’re all really impressed at your ability to catch a football — but you’re still not fooling anyone.  We all know the only reason you joined the team was for the big group showers at the end of every practice.

But you see — truly beautiful people are all around us, we’re just often too blind to see them.  And this is where vanity comes into play.  As we strive for a better self image, we inevitably begin to lose respect for ourselves.  For instance, my friend’s ex-girlfriend just recently got her nose pierced.  I’m talking about the kind right through the cartilage — leaving you horribly disfigured to look like some kind of human / bull bastard child.  Seriously, if I wanted to fuck a pin cushion, I’d do just that.  At least then I don’t have to hear your cry for 40 minutes about how your size 13 jeans make your ass look big.  Because yes, they do.  And no, I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you, or you’ll just eat that too.  And for God’s sake, I don’t want to talk about your issues.  I know minimum wage sucks, but it’s not my fault you still can’t get your G.E.D. after three tries.  Also, your boss is nothitting on you — even rapists have standards.

And tattoos?  Seriously, at what point did you think that’d be a good idea?  It’s not artsy, it’s stupid.  If you’re going to tattoo the hell out of your arms and legs to the point of resembling a pinata, then I reserve the right to beat you with a large stick until loose change falls out of your pockets.  Truthfully — no jury in this world would convict me.

And since I’m already on a rampage, I feel the need to get this off my chest.  I hate pet names.  If you truncate my name and turn me into some kind of fucked up pokemon-hybrid, I will dump you by the curb.  I don’t care if it’s on your birthday and someone ran over your dog with a lawnmower, my name is Adam — not Admander or Addachu.  I will settle Adam or Lawtonic.  Any other permutation will earn you a swift poke in the eye.  Sure, everyone thought Johnny Depp looked good as a gay pirate, but there’s nothing sexy about your ugly ass wearing an eye patch.

So if you think you need to do something outrageous to look beautiful, then fine. Go ahead, I don’t give a shit. I already know I’m better than you, anyway. And besides, I know I’m beautiful. Why else would James Blunt have written that song about me?

–- Lawtonic out

I’ve gotten seriously fed up the last few days by people over-reacting about the election.  I fail to see the big deal here.  I’m not going to disclose who I voted for, because honestly I think both candidates have their faults, so really it came down to who was the lesser of two evils.

After Obama was chosen, I saw a simultaneous burst of joy and outrage on Facebook.  I was stunned to read someone’s status set as “I can’t wait til he’s assassinated.”  I’m about as offensive as they come, and even that made me cringe.  Do I want to choose between a man who gets shot in office, or one who gets sent to a geriatric home?  And let’s be real, I think Sarah Palin taking over as President scares the ever-loving shit out of all of us.  Was I the only one afraid of being shot from a helicopter by Sarah Palin after voting?

But what bothers me most is the cult following.  People are getting way too stressed out about this.  Honestly, I don’t feel like things can get much worse, so we have nowhere to go but up.  That is why I, Adam Lawton, hereby announce my running in the 2012 election.  I’m neither Democrat or Republican — I’m a Realist.  I’m going to rule the nation with an iron fist and actually get results.  Don’t believe me?  Here’s my platform:

Global warming — is this really a problem?  All this means is we’ll never need to pay for tanning beds again.  All it’d take is 5 minutes in an o-zone free Earth and I’ll be toasted to a medium-well.  Personally, I support global warming.  Every morning I wake up, shower, and spray nine cans of aerosol out my bedroom window.  It diminishes the o-zone and gets rid of that “old people” smell in Mechanicsburg.  How’s that for killing two birds with one stone?

As for the war against Al-Qaeda, I say we stop dropping bombs and instead drop “care packages”.  And by “care package” I mean a tin box with a My Chemical Romance CD and a razor blade.  They’ll be confused at first, but after 3 or 4 days they’ll figure out what to do.  Remember, Abdul, it’s down the street, not across the road.  If you’re gonna be emo, make sure you do it right.

And I’m sick of hearing people complain about the state of the economy.  Seriously guys, it’s not that hard to wrap your mind around.  In the 1930s we went through our nation’s biggest economic crisis — The Great Depression.  How did we fix that?  We nuked the shit out of Asia.  I’m beginning to see a trend here.  Nuke Asia, fix economy.

Why do we even need Asia any more?  The only thing they’ve ever given us is cheap take out food and Scat Porn (if you don’t know what it is, I dare you to Google it).  If “Two Girls, One Cup” isn’t reason enough to blow half the world into nuclear winter, I don’t know what is.

We can’t afford to have some wishy-washy Democrat in the White House, we need a strong leader.  Someone with authority, charisma, and a vision.  You know who was like that?  Hitler.  Level with me, folks:  Hitler got shit done.  I hear he was an artist, like my friend Matt.  Kinda makes me feel warm inside.

As far as the abortion subject goes — you can buy 10 coat hangers for a dollar at Walmart.  Ha!  Spiraling economy, my ass.  That’s right, America — problem solved, case closed.  You’re welcome.

–- Lawtonic out