Hypnosis: Career Suicide

Going through some old work emails...here's another one that needs to be filed in the "was it really the video that got me fired" file. When HR confiscated my computer and scanned every single file, did they really read everything?

Background...Craig H. Wonder had an appointment with a hypnotist, but was being suspiciously vague about the details...like if the hypnotist had any formal training. I pressed him and he responded as follows...

Craig's email: (The hypnotist is) a guy at my work and I won it at a fundraiser auction our company had for cancer research.

My email response: Nothing weird about that at all. A co-worker who has a man crush on you rigging the fundraiser to let you "win" so that he can inspect your junk while you are "out cold". Who needs the date rape drug? Don't be surprised when you show up and you're the only one there. Please bring a friend and a video camera, for your own safety.

Was it a coincidence that Craig quit the band soon after being put under the spell of an office worker/partially accredited hypnotherapist? Oh what I would give to have the video of that encounter.

Letter to Donald Trump

Dear Donald Trump,

Celebrity hobbies are great. The Jolie-Pitts collect miniature humans. Oprah can’t stop starting girl schools in Africa. Al Gore spends every waking hour trying to be the Nelly of politics, convincing hot women like Leonardo DiCaprio that it’s getting Hot in Herre. And you enjoy making fun of big boned lesbians.

Your feud with Rosie O’Donnell reached a new low this week. After Rosie admitted that she suffers from depression, you said, “All she has to do is look in the mirror and she's going to suffer from depression”.

When I’m President, I intend to be a peace broker. So, I thought I'd warm up by fixing your relationship with Rosie. Rosie...is DT really a huge ass or is he just the fifth grader who is so uncomfortable around women that he borrows his dad's hairpiece and is mean to the girl he secretly loves? Don-Don...wake up bro...not liking lesbians is un-American. If you two would quit bickering for a minute, maybe you'd see that you really have a lot in common. You’re both rich, you both never really say anything, but say it loud, and most importantly you both appreciate nice rugs.

Thanks,
Matt H. Wonder

American Idol: Top 12, Week 1

American Idol, why do I love thee? Last year’s mix of unique contestants got me hooked and I can’t freaking stop watching this year even though the contestants are so much less interesting. Tuesday night, Simon and Ryan’s “you know how I know you’re gay” jokes were more entertaining than any of the contestants.

My only chance to have enough material to do an Idol blog this year is if Sanjaya keeps advancing. And if he can come up with a new hairstyle every week, he deserves to win. He was sporting a smoking hot Ogilvie Home Perm on Tuesday. His strategy is ingenious. He may not be a great singer, but his sleight of hand/misdirection is amazing. He gets you so focused on his mop that you can’t possibly concentrate on his voice. I would not be one bit surprised if he turns out to be David Blaine. That is the kind of shocking twist that this season needs to increase interest.

Simon’s interest in Haley’s performance was shocking. He has been mocking Haley for weeks, saying last week that he didn’t even remember her name. This week she forgot her words and was ripped by Randy and Paula. But, Simon said he was very impressed with her “presence on stage”. And by “presence” he meant “cleavage”. Chris Sligh would be smart to wear a halter top next week to get Simon back on his side.

Letter to Patrick Swayze

Dear Patrick Swayze,

Tonight at the video store my two-year-old son grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the video he wanted. The title? “Another Gay Movie”. Talking about the man on the cover, who was wearing nothing but a quiche, my boy said, “Brrr”. I was so disappointed…that you weren’t the object of his affection.

I picked him up and frantically ran around the store trying to find “Ghost”. I felt it was important to let him know that he hadn’t seen gay until he’d seen you doing pottery wearing nothing but a mullet. Your masterpiece of cinema was nowhere to be found, so I settled for “Road House 2”. But, you weren’t in it. What the hell?

Your turn as James Dalton (head bouncer of the Double Deuce club) brought in thousands of dollars. Why on earth did you turn the Road House franchise over to Jonathon Schaech? “Road House 2” could have been another “Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights”, but instead it went to straight to video.

I beg you not to make the same mistake with “Black Dog”, the greatest trucker movie of all time. Will there ever be a cast as great? You, Randy Travis and Meat Loaf in the same movie…incredible. Trying to do a sequel has proven impossible due to the salary requirements of your A-list co-stars. Craig and I would be glad to fill in at a reduced salary just to be near you. This idea might sound crazy, but remember, “Black Dog” distributor Universal greenlighted a shot-for-shot remake of "Psycho".

Thanks,
Matt H. Wonder

P. S. I just listened to your smash hit “She’s Like the Wind” and realized that it’s the perfect soundtrack for this letter if I sing it to you with slightly altered lyrics…

Feel his breath on my face
His body close to me
Can't look in his eyes
He's out of my league
Just a fool to believe I have anything he needs
He's like the wind

I look in the mirror and all I see
Is a young old man with only a dream
Am I just fooling myself
That he'll stop the pain
Living without him I'd go insane

Firestarter

In first grade I was in love with Tracey O. She had long hair…therefore she was hot. So, I did what any normal first grader would do, every night before I went to bed, I prayed that she would start coming to my church.

I’m not sure why I wanted to subject her to my church, because I was not fond of it. In fact, I used to root for one of my family members to get sick, because that meant we all could stay home. But, I vaguely remember there being some kind of directive from our pastor, the esteemed Dr. Alan Combover, to invite others to church. I immediately thought of Tracey, but I couldn’t just ask her to come to church with me out of the blue. I had never talked to her and that seemed like a weird pick up line.

Instead, I prayed for God to deliver a hot little first grader to Christ Church. Much to my surprise, God responded. Tracey’s church caught on fire and her congregation started meeting with ours. It was odd enough that there was a fire at her church. But, the fact that out of all the churches in town, they started meeting with us still seems unbelievable.

You see, our church met in an old folk’s home…nothing like the smell of death to get you in the mood to praise the Lord. Dr. Combover knew his audience…the sermons were geared toward the almost dead. Rather than have their only son literally die of boredom, my parents let me bring a book to read while Combover spoke. One week I brought the phone book…not the interesting phone book. I brought the white pages.

But, church became a lot more appealing when there was a chance that I’d get a glimpse of Tracey on Sunday morning. Our congregation met early, Tracey’s met late and we shared a coffee and donut fellowship time in between services. I literally could not believe my eyes when I walked in and saw Tracey for the first time.

Remember this old Pepsi commercial? That’s what it was like. Tracey was Cindy Crawford, except 10 times hotter. She was eating a donut, instead of drinking a Pepsi. I looked exactly like the kid with his mouth open. And the antique cars in the background of the commercial were reminiscent of the vintage ladies of John Knox Village whose varicose veins were somehow visible through their extra dark panty hose.

It was surreal. God wasn’t the Dude I’d heard about in the bore-the-hell-out-of-you sermons. He was on call to start fires for me so that I could be near the girl of my dreams. If it had been a movie, I would have sauntered up to Tracey and swept her off her feet with a line like, “Hey baby, howsabout I get that powdered sugar off your lips…with my lips.” Instead, I froze up and didn’t say a word.

Today I realized that I’m still that little wiener boy. God answered my prayer to get fired from my accounting job and here I am, still sitting on the sideline like a schoolboy. I need to finish writing my script and stop being the scared little Nancy boy who refused to go after his dream (girl) even though it’s been gift-wrapped and dropped on my doorstep. The DaVinci Code made over $200 million and it wasn’t even that funny. There’s no telling how much more a film would bring in that features me cracking the urinal code. It will no doubt become the Titanic of office men’s room comedies. The problem is, I’m completely out of money.

Dear God,
Please send a benefactor to finance my project.
Thanks,
Matt H. Wonder

If you’re rich and don’t respond, you might want to check your smoke detectors.

Letter to Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston

Would America still have elected W if they had known he’d pick “Brownie” to head FEMA and nominate Harriet Miers as a Supreme Court Justice? Would Clinton have lost votes if we had been forewarned that he’d make Monica Lewinsky the Secretary of the Interior (of his pants)? I don’t think voters should cast a ballot for me without knowing the caliber of people that I’ll have in my cabinet. I hope to appoint Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston as my co-Secretaries of Family Values. I’ve written the letter below in hopes that they’ll help me make America a better place.

Dear Whitney Houston/Bobby Brown,

I never thought the day would come when Bobby would be singing “Mr. Telephone Man” about Whitney. If the marriage of the June and Ward Cleaver of R&B fails, what hope is there for the rest of us?

Searching for answers, I painstakingly researched your lives for five minutes on Wikipedia and was sickened by the way the liberal media has unfairly characterized Bobby as a drug-loving felon. I mean, come on, who hasn’t urinated on the car of a spouse’s ex? And if you settled out of court with the underage prostitute you raped, how is that news? Multiple arrests. Multiple positive tests for cocaine. Been there, done that. But, because the media chooses to shine its spotlight on you, these types of mundane events are seen as “criminal”.

All the negative attention Bobby received was understandably hard on Whitney. While the media shamelessly portrayed Bobby as a thug, Whitney stood by her man, selflessly putting her career on hold while supporting Bobby by taking interest in some of his hobbies, like smoking crack. Your life was a fairy tale, bringing Whitney’s hit “The Greatest Love of All” to life. I can’t remember the exact lyrics, but I think it went something like this, “No matter what they take from me they can't take away my dignity because the greatest love of all is illustrated by these pictures of my crack den”.

After all you’ve gone through together, it pains me that, after 14 years of marital bliss, you are letting the media break up your rock solid marriage. Now more than ever we need celebrity couples to make it so that we don’t lose our belief in the institution of marriage. As you probably know, I’m running for President. I hope I can give you the proper incentive to give it another go. If you two can smoke a peace pipe and get back together, I’d like to appoint you to the position of co-Secretaries of Family Values. The positions shouldn’t be too demanding and would count against the community service time Bobby needs to work off. If your recreational activities don’t allow you the time to put together curriculum to teach kids about the importance of marriage, just show them a few clips from the Desperate HouseMILFs of Wisteria Lane and America will be one step closer to reclaiming the family values on which our nation was built.

Thanks,
Matt H. Wonder

Letter to Paris Hilton

Dear Paris Hilton,

In September, after a long day of “work”, you were drinking “one margarita” at a charity event when you like totally realized that you hadn’t eaten anything all day. Knowing that millions of young girls with eating disorders look to you as their role model, you immediately hopped in your car and courageously drove towards In-N-Out burger. The importance of your mission should have warranted a presidential motorcade or at the very least a police escort. Instead the police had the nerve to escort you to jail. One minute, you’re drinking a margarita for charity and the next thing you know you’re charged with DUI. How is that fair?

Last month you plead no contest to the charges, were sentenced to probation and had your license suspended. Earlier this week, you were ticketed for driving on your suspended license. Understandably, you immediately called your lawyer to ask if your license had been suspended. How could you possibly be expected to remember that you weren’t allowed to drive? That sentence came down almost 5 weeks ago. If your probation is revoked, you’re looking at the possibility of a 90-day jail sentence.

Oh man would that be great. I can only hope that your sentence is delayed until after I become President. I'll preempt the crap that they normally show on C-Span and C-Span 2 with a live reality show about your stay in prison. On your show, “The Simple Life”, you lasted like 10 minutes when they made you work at Sonic. I’m sure you’ll do great picking up trash along the highway. Best of luck making friends in the big house.

Thanks,
Matt

When I'm in the shower, I'm afraid to wash my hair

For best results, try listening to the audio of this Youtube clip while reading this post.

Wow. This is kind of freaking me out. I feel like a character in a John Grisham novel. I thought it was bad when HR fired me for a little, innocent urinal video.

Now, comes this. According to Google statistics, this blog received a hit from Los Alamos National Laboratory. Googling the lab provided the following, “Los Alamos National Laboratory helps to ensure the safety of the nuclear weapons stockpile and reduce the threat of terrorist attacks on our homeland.” That doesn’t exactly sound like the target audience of a lowbrow comedy blog. They sound like they take themselves even more seriously than my former company’s HR department.

Maybe running for President isn’t as hilarious as I first thought. I could try to unseat Mayor McCheese instead if it will prevent future surveillance. On the other hand, whoever logged on from Los Alamos doubled my readership that day. Thanks for tuning in. Now if you could just click on some of the Google ads...