Buckle Up!!!

You cannot believe it. But it's real.

Vacation, June '08

For an idea as to what I'm doing to improve my mood/situation, this podcast has 4 of the 5 main guys I'm going to be hanging out with down at the comics convention next weekend. I'll be staying in a hotel room with the first two guys that you hear when you follow the link, plus one other guy (the sleepwalker that they joke about). Also, one of these guys is the one I told you about who did the "Hey Ya, Charlie Brown" video. Within the first 10 minutes you get the idea of who they are, and you get to hear them mention me.

So you see, sometimes I'm bummed, but more often these days, I'm taking the bull by its horns and kicking it in the nuts. That's right, I said NUTS!! (Lookit me, all masculine an' vulgar! I might even drink some alcohol next week. WOO!)

And to warm it up, look what I found over at Tera's blog!!
The text from "bizarremedia" explains this stuff comes from VHS tapes made in 1995. There's a whole series of his outtakes called "Roving Reporter Etiquette." I LOVE how he switches from "sterile news reporter" to "skeeved out brotha" in 0.5! LOL! And yes, we can all do it. LOL!!!!!

And now one of a much more popular TV personality...

And our own darling Sue Simmons here in the biggest, most sophisticated city in the world;

"Party on, Garth!
Party on, Wayne!"

Oh This Is Some Funny Isht Right Here

Have a browser that plays audio, and click on this.

Screw with a man's pork products and see what ya git!

My Night Job, "Bizarro Shift"

So, Red comes in to visit on a regular basis now that she and Snapper are kickin' it. I like that she's still a cool enough gal that she doesn't fawn all over him, but she does make her appearances. He gets more googly-eyed than she does, in fact. This I know because I caught them having a moment out of the corner of my eye.

Try as I might, my mood lost a little altitude. I wouldn't take the fulfillment of human connection away from anyone, I promise. I just think there's enough to go around and I'm ready for my share.

Later on during the shift, I remarked to my co-workers how A.D. Annie gave me Wednesday night off when she realized that I really did want to stay home that Monday afternoon, and she forced me by sheer force of will to dig my car out of the ice and come in. She felt partly guilty, and partly she wanted to give one of her seasonal employees more hours. Fine with me. But I told Snapper and company that I might take advantage of my Wednesday by going to Caroline's. I was speaking aloud, mainly, just testing how it would sound to actually have a nightlife.

Snapper's ears pricked up catlike. "Who's Caroline?!"
Me: "It's a comedy club. A radio DJ that I like hosts a comedy night there on Wednesdays."
Snapper: "Awww...I thought you had a girl! I was going to say 'Way to go, son...!' "
I forced a smile. After all, the lad cared. "The student becomes the master," said I.
And then I proceeded to wish myself intense bodily harm for the remainder of the night.

Snapper called me "son". His 21st birthday was a few weeks ago. It's amazing what poon on the regular can do to the male ego. Turns mice into wildebeests.

Shortly thereafter, A.D. Annie blurted out for all of us to hear; Sexy Minx was 5 months pregnant and a month married to her baby daddy. So her Botticelli frame was due to maternity. Imagine how Sexy the Minx really has to be to pull off flirtation after having just gotten married and while carrying her nu-husband's second child. Now imagine how staggered I am, reeling from the second reversal of outrageous fortune. I mean, despite my Herculean efforts to resist the absurd notion, our flirting always came with a salacious thrill. A courting of wicked deeds, if you will. A possibility of a lightning round assignation in the back against the frozen scones. But of course, not anymore. Two children and a husband is WAY different than a baby and a boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Scullery has proven herself to be as unstable to others as she has to me. They mention to me in passing how little they like her because she spends so much time chatting and yakking to customers or on the phone, and does so little actual work. It's a fact that I cannot deny. She has reduced the instances of her ill-timed malevolence, however, so I feel less threatened by her. Now I just try to avoid her. Snapper informed me that when I tried to call out on Monday, Scullery told everyone that it was because I didn't want to work with her. So unfortunately, even though Scullery chugs through the night like a Mack truck on the Motormouth Highway, she's got feelings and a sensitivity that I now must take into account.

Whoopee.

As I mentioned earlier, we have had a number of "Seasonals" added to the cast during the holiday. Collegiates who have been working in the cafe for years come flocking back to pick up extra dosh. One of them is The Cutie, who I remember working with two years ago only because she has a something that snatched my attention to her. It could be her horn-rimmed glasses. Self-possessed and confidently trendy without being overt. And just cute.

Another one is a fellow who I've decided, after great deliberation, to call Gay Actually. This is a young Asian man who you would only know is gay when he talks about his boyfriend. Otherwise, there is no other distinction apparent about him. He's an energetic, collegebound, laughy, verbal and friendly guy who wants to be liked and accepted. He makes no angsty presentations. He is not emo. He is not a drama major. The only flaws I find in him is that his energy brims over to the point where I had to beg him to stop whistling once last week. Thankfully, he doesn't whistle as much as Snapper snaps. But this boi is actually happy. And thus, my name for him.

Last night, Gay Actually's father came in to the cafe. His dad might possibly be a few years older than myself, but only a few. Think Asian Gentleman's Casual. Scullery was at the register ringing him up when Actually stepped behind her to use his numbers for the discount of his father's purchase. When Scullery discovered that it was his father, she squealed with Angela Lansburian delight. (That's how I learned Actually had this familial tie.) Scullery gushed about Actually to his father, and Actually entered a series of blushes and self-deprecating chuckles. Then his father actually said to Scullery--with Actually standing right there-- "I'm very proud of my son!"

What's my weakness, bois and grrls? Riiiiight. Fathers and Sons. So how was I feeling at this point? Well, yes, you would think so, wouldn't you? Except earlier on in the week, I'd been knocked down a peg or two by the sudden masculine ascendence of Snapper, and then thrown under the bus by the discovery that Sexy Minx was a married mother of two. So to now see a well-adjusted gay son being doted on by his traditional Asian father?!

I was ready to put the steam wand of the espresso machine into my eyesocket and broil my brains out. There's only so much uplift a sad sack can witness in any given week, people. I mean let's be real.

The night drifted on towards an interminable finish and two things happened. One of which I am proud of, and one which I'm not so much.

A pert little customer, either a grad student or a professional heading to or from her office, was ready to give her order to Scullery while she was chatting up a previous customer, as usual. When this happens, I often intervene because, damn. Who wants to stand there waiting for Scullery to shut her fat gob? So I ask Pert Customer what I can start making for her. On the way to asking her, a Rude Customer hijacked my attempt to help her by shotgunning me with the question, "What size is medium?" Ordinarily the answer is "Medium is Grande" but I was on a mission to help the stranded Pert Customer so I fired back at Rude, "Medium is medium." Something in the exasperated tone of my voice made Pert Customer laugh. She laughed quite a bit. It was apparent that she didn't want to, but there it went. It made me laugh too. And laughter doeth good like a medicine. So I took her order while Scullery went obliviously on yakking away. Here's how it went;

She: "Mocha latte blah-blah bloopity bloop (ed., paraphrased). Decaf!"
I repeat, "Mocha latte blah-blah bloopity bloop, decaf."
She: "Yes! Decaf, please. You don't want to keep me up all night, do you?"
Me: *A pregnant pause and a smile.* Then "I ... think I'll refrain from commenting on that one. I need this job."
She: *A BIG SMILE.*
I begin to fix her drink, heart thudding in my chest, knowing that oh my god, OH MY GOD I did it! This time, I've really gone and did it. I flirted actually. Not just in-my-head, handing-off-a-drink, imagining-I'm-sexy! I can barely look up from the latte for fear of what I might see. But I do. I peek. And she's peeking back, not overtly, but as if she too is amazed by the set-up. Like, "where are the hidden cameras?"
Scullery finally gets around to her and rings her up, THANK GODFULLY deflecting the attention away from me as I top off her decaf with whip cream and garnish. I hand it off to her with a grin I cannot for love nor money prevent.
She: "Thank you."
Me: "Thank you. And ... pleasant dreams."
She:" "Oh I will do."

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

I KNOW!!!

Wasn't that WONDERFUL?!?! I'm grinning right now just remembering it!! It was awesome!! I was awesome!!! I am a Sexy Bastard!!!

Lastly, on a very special "My Night Job..."

Scullery was running off at the mouth with Actually Gay. The three of us were left to close the cafe and most of the customers had gone. Even Wont Go Away Girl went away. Scullery ACTUALLY asks Actually, "So how does your father deal with your lifestyle?"

Now, do not get me wrong dear readers. Every cell in me wanted to know that exact answer from the moment I had heard his father crow about his son. But of course I wasn't going to ask him because up until the Pert Customer Incident, I was too melancholy to put it the right way without sounding like a regretful closeted gay man envying the freedom and acceptance Actually was enjoying. And I didn't need Actually later on telling Snapper that I asked this kind of question, since Snapper is apparently aware of the fact that I am without a "Caroline" or any other such female. So leave it up to the diarrhetic yapper of Scullery!! Woohoo!!

The part that I'm not proud of is this; Actually answered Scullery by telling her that he used to be pretty wild, but he's calmed down a lot and so his father and he get along a lot better now than they used to. Then Scullery said something else and Actually said, "Oh, you mean about my being gay? Oh, my father doesn't know."

And I was shamefully relieved. Actually Gay's father wasn't accepting and unconditional and atypical. He was blissfully unaware.

The world was not as bizarro as I thought it was last night. And I do hope for good things between Actually and his father, honestly. I hope he doesn't disown Actually and do a hundred things that a traditional Asian father might do to an outed gay son. But I just don't want them to not do it in front of me. Have your fuzzy warm Hallmark special at home so I don't have to battle suicidal tendencies during this Christmas season.

I'm just sayin'.

Okay, This I've Got To Share

I've just learned this from The Graham Norton Show which airs on BBC America (to whom I have to give mad props, for they are giving us original BBC programmes with only about a two-week delay. Gone are the days of public television giving us Monty Python years after its stopped production and one of the actors have died)

But anyway, Graham is quite a publically out gay man living it up with his talk show. This is a relevant fact because the nature of his show is grist for the following types of mills;



Adopt A Bollock! It looks like a legitimate site, designed to bring awareness to prostate, bowel, and testicular cancer.

But how can you not scream with laughter?

Off the record? "Bollocks" is one of my favorite English curses. No one says it like the English. :-))

One More Snap of Me ...

...enjoying the attention of the woman I absolutely adored during the meeting of new friends. She is the wife portion of the visiting couple, and her accent was so posh and lovely that I'm typing with her voice narrating the words in my head even now.

She is English, but she lives in Wales with her Welsh husband, the other half of the couple. He was a big randy bloke who said the most wonderfully foul curse words, and so did she when she got rolling. But they said them in their Welsh and English accents respectively, so it sounded so sophisticated.

I just have a fetish for the English, apparently, considering how I hung on their every utterance, and she was amazing with hers. She was very Jennifer Saunders in AbFab with her sense of humor and energy, and happily, she liked me well enough too.

So that's alright then!

And now for your viewing pleasure ... Absolutely Fabulous sweeties darling sweeties!

My Night Job; Episode 4, "The Bull Returns"

Yes! In all his bald glory! And it was crowded last night too, but there he sat, all twitchy and introspective--and BEARDLESS! Yes, he shaved it off, ladies and gents! It was not a compliment to his face, I must say. The beard gave his jaw a definition which didn't actually exist, I discovered, after the beard was gone. And also without the beard, he looks about 21 years old. Much less Bullish.

Meanwhile, I have new people to introduce you to.

"Baby Boy" He worked at the cafe before I was rehired, and had just quit when I appeared. But, like myself, he was still on the books and agreed to plug in some holes in the schedule. The way A.D.Annie bombards you with words, Baby Boy had no choice but to come back. I call him "Baby Boy" because he shares the name of the guest artist in Beyonce's song of the same name. But he looks like Eminem and acts like Marky Mark when he was back with the Funky Bunch. He's okay.

From the customer side of the counter;

"Hollow Leg" This woman starts out with a large coffee, black. She might be 95 pounds. Within two hours, she has come to us for her third refill. That equals 60 ounces of coffee in two hours. Every. Night. I can't believe I hadn't mentioned her first. I have no idea why she STILL looks so tired.

"The Multicolor Madwomen's Brigade" I hadn't noticed that these women were part of one set because they intermittently attend the cafe throughout the week, but last night they were in full session at the same table, clucking away. Their faces pale as ditto paper. Their lips are bright red slashes, like wounds. Their clothing is like Stevie Nicks as designed by Richard Simmons. Once, the chief instigator wore yellow and orange the color of Sherbet. Their median age is roughly 68 yrs. old. And I almost made one of them wear her free water away from the counter last night. I mean, if there's a long line, and you already have ALL OF YOUR ORDER, and there's only TWO WORKERS helping everyone else (me and Baby Boy on register while New Kid and Undercover Emo are on one their endless breaks), and if I squeeze in a second to give you a FREE cup of ice water while filling two other orders, and you dare ask me to remove some of the ice cubes, and I find another nanosecond to do that, you don't yell at me to remove ALL THE ICE CUBES when you clearly did NOT say ALL of the ice cubes. I swear, I almost lost my job last night. No one knows how close I came to dumping the water on her head. Then when we handled the crowd successfully (Baby Boy and me, brothers in arms!) and I looked back at gouts of water I splashed on the counter in the vicinity she had been standing, I guess I came pretty pert near close to it when I handled her back the ice-less ICE WATER she asked for. Because at that point I stopped looking at her or trying to please her. I had just snatched the cup out of her hand, dashed the ice water and cubes into the sink, refilled it with iceless water, handed it back to her without eye-contact or a thanks, and then willed her into the cornfield with all my other enemies as I went flying back to the espresso machine. That mad old hag.

And here's a new category of cast members--Employee's Loved Ones featuring;
"Won't Go Away Girl Jr." This is the daughter of an employee who apprently has no child care, but doesn't believe the daughter, who is now nearly sixteen, can take care of herself at home alone. So this girl loiters in every department, trying to be relevent and liked, past closing, while we all try to clean our departments and get. the. hell. out of the store before midnight. Won't Go Away Girl Jr. has a mad crush on Baby Boy, and so I was treated to her presence in my cafe for two nights in a row now. Thank God Baby Boy doesn't work full time in the cafe. The only consolation I had two nights ago was that Jr. plopped herself down at the original Won't Go Away Girl's table and loitered for two hours. The karma was a flowin', let me tell you. I though the Sr. was going to gnaw her own arm off at the socket to get Jr. to go away. Talk about your immovable object and your irresistable force. I'm suprised the store didn't implode.

Only Carmine Macchiato could have saved the night, but neither he nor his Lady was in attendance. I suppose they were home, making little Macchiatos. Woof! I bet that Carmine is one hunkalicious freight train of chugging love! Now that The Bull is shaved, Carmine's back on the throne. And too, Carmine doesn't wear flip-flops.

My Night Job; Episode Three, "Premature Friday"

There's a new kid who I will simply call "New Kid," and he has the potential to creep me all the way out because ... well, he's too much like me. That is, if you were to darken me a few shades, stretch me to about 7 more inches higher, give me back all my teeth, then put braces on them, then lop twenty years off--you'd have me.

Last night I had to work with New Kid and Snapper (who the two of them just happens to be friends from way back, oh joy) and although I was in no specific mood, I found myself shrinking back. He sings aloud like I do (only better than me), he laughs a lot with the customers, and he'd throw himself on a grenade to keep the peace.

It was as though I felt uncomfortable watching my own vulnerabilities and insecurities reflected in New Kid. But at least he keeps Snapper involved long enough through conversation and hijinx to reduce the snapping. So it's all good.

No sign of The Bull in the past two nights. I miss him. :( Maybe his awkward attempt at seducing me has embarassed him to the point of no return. Poor Bull. If I were a chick, I'd let him take me right up against the cafe' wall, because that's the kind of 'ho I'd be. As I am now, I'd easily watch him in a porn flick. Big handsome bastard!

But wait, Carmine Macchiato was in the house! No macchiatos, but he was with the Lady Macchiato, and I heard him making her laugh a few times. They LIKE each other and I love it.

Little Tea Guy stopped through and got his teas. Won't Go Away Girl wouldn't go away again. She gets persnickity when we have to spray the tables with disinfectant and wipe them, which we don't start doing until at least 10:00. But of course, because she won't go away, she's always there to make a big open show of her disdain by covering her nose and mouth with hand. It takes a lot of control on my part not to tell her that if she doesn't like it, GO THE HELL HOME!! Instead, I just laugh because how funny would that be if I busted on her in such a manner? Would she even know how to act?

Also, I introduce to you in this cast last night was Chester the Molester. I give him that name because Drama Queen took one look at him once and decided that he fancies children. It's odd that I didn't have a stronger reaction. Instead, I choose to add him to the list and give him a name. Besides, not all greasy, belt-buckle-wearing-up-around-the-chest, comb-over bald, constantly smiling guys diddle with kids behind the magazine rack.

Oh, and ooh! There's also a manager in the store who I haven't decided between names yet. On the one hand, I want to call him Little Sexy, because his walk is bad-ass, and he has a visceral presence that I think smoulders. Kind of like The Bull, only more compact. But on the other hand I want to call him Mr. Stands-Too-Close because, um, yeah. We're not freakin' posing for pictures, dude. Can you step the hell over just a little and let me breathe?

Well, that's enough for now. In I go to B&N for my "Friday," because tomorrow I'm off from both jobs and alternate side of the street parking should be suspended, so I'm going to be laying in my bed tomorrow AM until the room spins.

Passengers In The First Car On The Uptown A ...

... tonight between 59th and 207th, I am SO terribly sorry for laughing like a homeless schizophrenic.

But OH. my gosh. I couldn't get home fast enough to blog the following;

Up over the doors and windows inside the subway trains are advertisements. Dr. Zizmor's skin treatments, Barnes & Nobles' sponsored poems, nightschool endorsements, upcoming television shows, etc. Well tonight I was mindlessly staring at one for a language school. Going from left to right there were four headshots of people who could pass for immigrants (little did the models know when they cheesed for the nice photographer).

First guy, big bright smile, could be Romanian, had under him the following caption; "Malawy hg looasoih" (or something like it) and then THAT foreign phrase had a Spanish subtitle-- "Habla en Ingles"

Second is an Asian woman. Another nice smile. Her caption is in Chinese or Japanese or Korean, or an otherwise alien hieroglyph. But the Spanish subtitle was, "Lea en Ingles"

Third is a darker skinned man with a mustache and a third nice smile. His caption says "Ecrivez en anglais" The Spanish subtitle, "Escribe en Ingles"

Fourth is a tannish woman with full lips and completes the quartet of beautific smiles. Her caption says "Pronuncie el Ingles" Her subtitle says "OR GO BACK" in Sharpee magic marker.

I.

DIED!

In the middle of a crowded train, you hear me? I hollered. I laughed for 148 blocks.

It's not got anything to do with my personal philosophies about immigrants. Yes I get annoyed when my foodservice person makes me repeat myself, or I drive away from McD's with the wrong thing because I was misunderstood, and yes I cuss them out (under my breath, in the safety of my own car). But hey, in the long run, I know we all have to struggle to make it in this country. I say the more the merrier. Come on over and help me take the white man's money. He got too much of it, and power. It's time to break up this good ol' boy network for the last damn time. Let's see how the hell they'll like being called a 'minority' for the next 200 damn years.

Er, hrm.

But I described the poster to you the same way I had read it--sequentially. And up until that last caption the theme was "learn to read and write and eventually speak English" to all the young enterprising non-English speakers reading the sign in their own languages ... just a'going along in my head like an "It's A Small World After All" Disney attraction when --SKEEEK!!!

Sharpee strikes!

Oh my gosh it was just so funny.

Dane Cookology

I did some more surfing and found an evolution of sorts. Sometimes I just love me so much.

First of all--Dane Cook when he was young and very Jim Carreyesque. This may have been why I missed his rise. I have had enough Jim carrey to last me several of his OWN lifetimes. And remember when I thought the way Dane Cook spoke was a dealing with a possible speech impediment? Welllll ... pay close attention to the early Mr. Cook.


Now here's Dane halfway to the stud he has become today. He's taken more command of the stage in this next one. and his voice is halfway to the more gruff, crisp sound in the current Dane. The cause? Cigarettes? The world wants to KNOW, Dane! Oh, and remember when I suspected the boy has moves? How awesome am I?


But I am most happy with this version of Dane, circa 2003, I believe? This was the special that introduced me to him. Now that I've seen his older self, I find he's less animated these days. (Too many ciggies, Dane?) and his Boston accent is really on fire! I though he was Canadian when I first heard him. There's nary a trace of it in the previous samples, if you'll notice. But what I like the best about all the performances? The man is not afraid to scream. Maybe THAT'S what changed his voice!! Every dude out there now--AAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I have watched this one every morning so far. The thing that sends me out of the house laughing like a fool is at the very end-- "... auuuHUHHheee stole the beads ... -aaaiieeeee stole the beads ... gyaaaaahhh!!"

And This Just In ...

I just discovered Dane Cook, and now I discover Jessica Alba is doing a lead film with him? Where've I been under a rock?

Day Addendum

I found out that the nearby McDonald's gives breakfast still at 10:30a and they give a free cup of coffee with a breakfast sandwich. Score!

Then I also found out that the appointment I thought I arranged this morning for a client was actually in the afternoon. WhoopS! But I got coffee now, so I can deal.

Third, a co-worker, who is the lead director of the building where my office is, told me this morning "I love you."

This co-worker is a man.

And he's not my type.

I dunno why I haven't blogged about him up until now. Many times he has found an excuse to come into my office and ply me with little jokes and stories, as well as gotten me involved in client psych matters when my boss has told him clearly that I'm only in the building because that's where they put my office. There is already a psych staff assigned to handle this site. But this dude wants me on the case. Every time.

I'm not going to say I'm uncomfortable with his attention. He literally acts like a schoolgirl with a crush when he comes to see me. It has been very flattering, I must say. Mighty ego boost and all that. But at the same time, I feel a lot of compassion for him. I know what it feels like to be so smitten. And I've told and retold myself that what I think I see is not actually what it is. After all, he has at least one child (I've learned in the many conversations) but he's also divorced. He isn't flaming, but he's soft enough to make me believe he could be gay--and again, there's the schoolgirl-acting thing. I swear, you'd be amazed to see it. I don't know why someone else hasn't yanked on his shirt tale when he's in high swoon. It's a little embarrassing.

But it does add up. His emotional control isn't good when he's also frustrated, angry, or insecure. His face gets red and he stumps around huffing. He also whines to anyone who'll listen, even though he's everyone's boss. So it shouldn't be hard to realize that he also can't control his behavior around me.

Now hear this--it would take A LOT to get me to get into a relationship with a dude. Way more therapy that what I'm having now. There'd be A LOOOOTTT of mental boundaries to cross and a lot of core beliefs I have to extinguish. A LOTTTTTT of work I'd have to do, if I wanted to decide to be gay. So this guy? This guy would not merit such work. Don't tell him I said that.

Fortunately, he said "I love you" real quick, as a throw-out, close to the end of a topic he was already on, and then he played it off as though it was supposed to be the kind of joke that a striaght guy would throw out--except he didn't follow it up with "...man."

So for now, I can take it like he was just joking. I can pretend that what I think I see coming from him is all really just my own delusional, bloated ego. But we all know about my ego, don't we? It's only strong when I think I'm getting disrespected, not complimented.

One possibly last thing (something else might occur before I jump back into the workstream today)-- Dane Cook has been taking lessons from George Carlin.

I was glad to catch the beginning of a Dane Cook concert on cable the other night. I wanted to see what the fuss was all about.

Oh my gosh.

That white boy was FUNNY!!!! There he was standing in the center of the universe, with some 20,000 souls amassed to watch him perform, and now I know why. Evidently he is to comedy what Dave Matthews is to music. The frat boys/girls love him. And this is completely his appeal--he is the voice of the white dude. He actually told the following joke and got away with it;

"I talk so much in the movie theater that black guys behind me tell me to shut up." Then he pulled off that black voice that white guys (like Eminem and Paul Wall) pull off well--"Ay, yo man, shut up."

We thank you, white fellas who like us so much that you put on our affect well. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and all that.

I encourage fans of comedy to watch Mr. Cook's body as he does his thing. What a groovy lil' cat! He got the MOVES, let me tell you. You could tell that he's one of those cool ass white boys who can seriously roll with any crowd, but is ultimately his own dude. And the content of his comedy is as intelligent as George Carlin's. Cook knows how to dissect today's guy-angst with surgical precision, and leave it flayed out there for you to laugh your ass off at. And then too, he says all the nasty words that just makes you automatically giggle.

I just have to wonder what he's like offstage. Broody and depressed? A raging pothead (contradiction in terms, I know)? The poster child for ADHD?

Whatever it is, you betta WORK it, Dane Cook.