Dear guy who brought his own seat cushion onto the subway,

How are you!? I'm doing great, sir. I really am. I'm having such a wonderful Autumn morning that I'm going to let you slide. Just for today, you get a free pass on bringing your own upholstery into your transit experience.

For future reference, however, you might want to at least get a cover for that seat cushion. That torn up, stained piece of yellowing foam would, on a lousier day, get you a thorough blogging from the Mac. And you know you don't want any part of that, boyo. Next time, that's yo ass. People far and wide know...that...uhhh...ok, I'm not that intimidating. But stop being weird please.

Oh, and you might want to rethink the black dress socks with those tan sandals. Not for my sake, for your own. I don't know if you've hit that age when you are no longer confident that there might be sex in your life. Personally, I hit that age at about 12 years old, so I can relate. Regardless, that fashion decision helps no one. Leave it be.

Sincerely,

That guy you sat too close to and breathed near in a disturbing way yesterday

I love you, mad scientists!

Well, as reported recently, war dolphins may have accidentally been released by hurricane Katrina. They are affable, adorable, and deadly. They are equipped with toxic darts. And they are annoyed that we made them jump through hoops for fish. I fear that this will create a firestorm of controversy surrounding some of the more bizarre programs at the Pentagon. Some examples:

• Deadly earthworms that carry m16 rifles. And they are not in fact earthworms, but special forces soldiers disguised to look like earthworms. Oh, wait. No, they're just dressed like regular soldiers. Ok, that one seems fine.
• Specially trained grizzly bears which will abjectly refuse to attack anyone. They just sit there and look at the enemy. When the target becomes complacent, a trained marmot flies in on a tiny hang-glider fitted with a special harness, and pokes him until one of them falls asleep.
• Cats that are capable of ignoring orders from as high up as the commander-in-chief. They are also able to pretend they give a shit about you if you are holding a bag of their food. There are rumors that some of these also escaped and are currently mixed in with the regular cat population.
• A bag of grenades with friendly, smiling faces painted on each of them. The enemy soldier will start to sort through them, smiling back at them. And then, I don't know, maybe one of them goes off? (This one is still in development.)

Mixed Emotions

Well, last night it was sort of autumnal here in NYC. On one hand, I was so happy that I almost peed and/or cried. Or cried tears of pee. I was pretty happy about it. NYC summers are best described by this quote from my good friend, Sarah Fisch:

"Summer makes me want to kill myself and all of y'all."

Amen, sister.

But on the other hand, the ending of that hellbender of a summer sort of blows my little fantasy that the earth is about to crash into the sun, rendering my credit card debt null and void. And right before we were all destroyed, I would sentence 3 space criminals to a weird flying mirror, and then send my only son to a distant planet where he would save people and wear tights and things.

I think I like that idea because it would be such an ingenious way to avoid having to raise a child without coming across as selfish.

MEMORANDUM

TO: Jeff Mac
FROM: Jeff Mac
RE: Safety Tip

IMPORTANT: You do NOT know how to install a ceiling fan. You really don't. So please stop trying. It's just not your bag. This is not an threat to your manhood*.

Furthermore, the saying "That which does not kill you makes you stronger" does not apply to electricity. It sort of falls under the "that which absolutely kills you" category.

Just be content that if your ceiling fan is having computer problems at any point, you could fix those.

Sincerely,

Yourself


*It's the fact that you are a wussy that's the threat to your manhood. This is more of an "icing on the you're-not-much-of-a-man cake**" sort of a thing, so don't sweat it.
**Some people have said that there is no such cake. Of course there is.

The Big Bed Theory

Ok, I have told every human I've seen in person, plus several of the gods and goddesses (Norse, mostly, if that matters to you) about my new bed. I can't stop talking about it. Maybe that's partly because I'm coming off a many year stint on a futon. Well, that nonsense is over. A new era of comfort and support has begun.

Sure, this thing covers roughly 75% of my living space. You know what? I generally spend roughly 75% of my time asleep. Perfect.

Some salient features for all of you reading at home:

• It is the kind of bed which, if you were so inclined, you could put a glass of red wine on one side and jump up and down on the other. And it wouldn't spill the wine. You could do that first part on any bed. (Disclaimer: I tried this yesterday with a mug of tea. I pushed down lightly and the tea rocked around like crazy. Had I jumped up and down, it would have gone flying for sure. So...the bed lied to me once. Oh, I can't stay mad at you, bed. Just never lie to me again.)
• On it, I not only have a comforter, but also a duvet cover. I don't even have a duvet. I don't think. Unless that's what the comforter is, in which case somebody isn't keeping consistent with their naming scheme. Work on that, Macy.
• I also own a bedskirt. Had I known that this item was also called "The thing you put on your bed to hide the shameful pile of crap you've crammed under it" I would have bought one with far more verve. As it stands, I had only marginal verve at that time. I would like more verve when I buy things, I'm saying.

So, it's a big, awe-inspiring, monolithic, adult-sized bed just for me. In fact, I prefer it that way. I would WAY rather that than to have some totally hot woman in there totally making out with me once in a while. Who needs that hassle? Not me, that's for sure.*

* Reverse psychology always works. Always.

Dear Mosquito That I Killed at 3 a.m.,

How are you? I am just fine. I'm doing great, actually. Especially since I killed the holy hell out of you after you drank a quart of my blood without permission, written or otherwise.

Now that I mention it, how do you do it? You must have a very high metabolism to drink all that blood and maintain that figure. As I squashed you, you looked fantastic. I would have expected you to have ballooned out to the size of a little floating kitten. Well, you don't know how lucky you are. Or were, right up until the moment you got cocky and hovered near my arm in full view. Yeah, that was a really dumb move.

But the bigger question is, where in the hell were you hiding during the period when you were draining me dry with impunity? See, I know you're just a mosquito and are therefore maybe not 100% in touch with the real estate market. I accept that. But this is what they call in the real estate section a "cozy, quaint, adorable" studio. There just ain't that many places to hide in here, even for you.

However you did it, I commend you. I almost wish you were alive so that I could shake your little hand. Actually, I mostly wish you were alive so that I could kill you all over again. I'm sure it was less than ideal for you but I found it supremely satisfying.

Sincerely,

Jeff

P.S. Please feel free to haunt your friends and family in the mosquito community and convey to them the deal that I make with all household pests (pardon the term): I will allow you to live provided that I have no knowledge of your existence. Once you're on my radar, sorry, but I'm just going to have to kill you. I think that is more than fair. Thank you.

Things Jeff Mac Loves About the New Apartment...

Well, it looks like I have internet access a little sooner than expected. The move went remarkably smoothly, and I'm loving the new place. So here is a rundown of some of my favorite things about it:

1. The Surly Sandwich Place - I was able to get a very nice sandwich while being sneered at by a hipster simultaneously. The dude was listening to music that was so avant garde, I felt like the artist might have been mad at me for something, and this was his/her way of punishing me. And I'm sure that if I had said, "Hey, I love this song!" the hipster would have tossed it into the trash and put on a recording of someone running their fingers down a chalkboard while being stabbed.
2. The Most Powerful Shower on Earth - The water pressure in this place is so intense it actually hurts. Hurts so good. And the temperature? My last apartment's shower was just above room temperature, which is very nice if you're going for a refreshing polar bear swim on January 1st. In my new place, sometimes I'll just stand in there and scald myself. Why? Because I can.
3. The Very Cool Bar Where I'm Pretty Sure There Was a Greasefire In the Kitchen, But Nobody Seemed To Mind - It's called "Kili" which, unless there's another meaning I don't know about, was one of the characters in The Hobbit. I'm totally in.
4. The Delightfully Chatty Super Who Was, as a Boy, a Member of the Hitler Youth. Seriously. - Not much to say about this one. Except that he has a tiny dog named Snoopy that is so mellow I think I'd be holding a mirror up to that thing’s nose right about now.

Warning: Temporary Decrease in Blogularity...

Hello all. I am moving tomorrow, and my internet service is not likely to be hooked up until at least Tuesday so I will not be able to blog as frequently as I would like. Why should you care? Well, you shouldn't. And yet somehow you do. It's almost eerie.

Until then, if you miss me THAT honkin' much, here are some things you can do:

1. Sit alone in your room and sigh, "Jeff Mac. Jeff Mac." I do this all the time, and it is very therapeutic.
2. Go through the archives of this website and read things that you either never read, forgot you read, or didn't think were funny the first time. You never know -- maybe your standards have dropped by now.
3. Also, if you're in the NYC area, why not come on down and see me at the Comedy Pro Shop @ Sin Sin on Sunday night? I'll be performing with a GREAT lineup of comics including Ophira Eisenberg, Bob Powers, Debbie Shea and more. Oh, much more. And it's hosted by the always awesome Rob Paravonian. All the details are on my little web calendar thingie on the right. No, down a little. Yes, exactly.

If I don't see you at Sin Sin, I'll catch you around Tuesday or so, right here, with more notes from the moron underground.

I love almost all of you,

-mac

Know what's awesome about packing for a move?

Not a goddamn thang.

Then again, it is nice to throw all those shit gifts away that you've kept only out of New Englander guilt.

"Oh, I got that lamp thing from my aunt for Christmas. Of course, I can tell it was for Christmas because it's a string of Christmas lights crammed into a glass globe with pot pourri which smells as the lights get hot. This way, it is unappealing to several senses at once."

Bye bye.

But I'm keeping the Jar Jar Binks underwear*. After all, I'm not completely without a soul. Plus, I do material about them, and if I didn't have them to present at the end of the bit, who would believe that they are real?

*Not a joke. Laydeez? Hubba hubba, right?

Target: When Quality is No Object

When you're moving into a new apartment, you have to buy things. Sometimes you buy them at Target.

Premise complete.

Amongst the wonderfully cheapo items at Target (i.e. something that said "Electronic Microwave" -- you know, for when you tire of the hand crank ones) I saw something that I think will usher in a whole new era in kitchening.

The "Potato Ricer".

Now...I have never riced a potato. Nor have I potatoed rice. I always sort of considered that something of an either/or decision that you would make when you bought your food. And never have I experienced such buyer's remorse from a potato purchase that I actually wanted to transmute it to an entirely different starch. And since both potatoes and rice cost about 20 cents a serving, maybe you can splurge and get both and decide later, even.

However, in my adorable/quaint/cozy/rustic/microscopic new apartment, this is the kind of space-saving idea that may have found it's niche. I can' t be storing both potatoes AND rice. I'll be lucky to get even one of those through the door. So, I get this device, buy a potato, and I make that fucker dance.

Some other devices that I think Target should carry:

• The Corn Chickener - Look, sometimes you buy something and you want something different, ok?
• The Hamster Monkeyer - This is likely an overseas item, but I think it has a demographic out there.
• The Cheese Lamper - This is for when you have accidentally ordered so much cheese online that, during delivery, one of the piles of brie wheels tips over and destroys one of your lamps. This nearly never happens, but when it does you will feel very foolish for not owning this device.
• The Water Winer - Old device that they used to sell at the Williams Sonoma in the Nazareth Heights Mall.
• The Grape Complete Thanksgiving Dinnerer - Great way to economize during the holidays.
  

And if they would only invent a Dust Casher or a Pile of 20 Coffee Mugs Diamonder, I'd be well on my way to financial freedom.

Tiny Apartment? Check!

Well, as promised, I have accepted the apartment that I saw yesterday. Well, maybe not accepted. I've still got to go through the the other 4 stages of moving to a very small apartment (denial, anger, bargaining, and going to Ikea.) But I have faith that I'll get there.

In order to fit my life into this quaint/cozy/unique space, I will have to make some adjustments in my lifestyle:

• I will only be able to have one guest over at a time. Since I'm not that crazy about most people, I think that's not going to be too bad. And it's not as if there's a line to visit me at my current apartment, so I'm probably fine.
• I will have to have a murphy kitchen and bathroom. Pretty much everything will be folding down from somewhere.
• My bed will now pull double duty as the stove, and all of that gets stored in the microwave during the day(note to self: doublecheck measurements on that.)
• I will now convert everything to the metric system. For instance, 200 square feet doesn't sound like much, but how about 185,806.08 square centimeters? I could get lost in that puppy!
• No puppies.

Other than these minor shifts, I think it's all going to work out just fine!

This is the one!!!

Ok, I'm looking at an apartment in an hour, and I'm totally taking it. As long as it's humanly doable. I don't care anymore. I can't look at any more apartments that are wood panelled with a linoleum floor designed to look like wood panelling. I don't want to talk myself into the benefits of living in a treehouse. I'm just taking it.

Here are my current "dealbreakers" on accepting this apartment.

• The apartment must exist, and be fully indoors.
• It must not currently be on fire.
• The walls must not be poisonous to humans.

Beyond that, I'm totally in.

Where are the killer bees?

Shouldn't they be here by now, terrorizing us? Not that the bees are "terrorist" bees as such. (Although I must admit that I am in favor of putting bees on the no-fly list. I don't care if that seems "racist" or "closed-minded")

I mean, we don't need to brand them terrorists. Isn't it bad enough that there are "killer" bees? Or the lesser known "rapist bees" which are even worse, if you think about it.

They are probably worse even if you don't think about it. So I wouldn't think about it if I were you. It will be so much better for you if you don't. I know I don't. Never do. I'm not even thinking about it as I'm writing about it here. I know that seems impossible, but for me it's no problem. You see, I can write but I never learned to read.