Journal Entry #4

By Austin B. Hahn

Background story: On the show Fashion Police, Joan Rivers asked several guests, including Adam Lambert, what each of them would do if they could spend a day with her. I have been unable to find the clip on YouTube, but here is what I would do if I could spend a day with the Legendary comedian.*

Joan, if you were still alive, I would take you vitamin shopping because, you know, you can never have too many calcium supplements. Then I would take you to the cemetery where you could introduce me to your family. Next, I would resurrect your friends back from the dead and invite them over to play bunco with us at your house. Finally, we would watch reruns of the Golden Girls, and I would leave your house by seven o’clock so you could go to bed.

*Yes bitches. That “L” deserves to be capitalized.

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Journal Entry #3

By Austin B. Hahn

Here’s a list of Clickbait Headlines:

8 Black Guys the Kardashians Haven’t Slept With . . . Yet

Can’t Find a Public Restroom? 3 Alternatives That Might Come In Handy . . . (I Like #2. The Snapple bottle is a great idea.)

7 Signs That You’re More Full of Shit Than Jamie Lee Curtis in an Activia Commercial

Woman Shoves a Pineapple Up Her Ass. You Won’t Believe How Firefighters Got it Out.

Oprah Without Makeup at the Zoo is Mistaken For a Hippopotamus. You Won’t Believe What Zookeepers Did Next!

Senior Citizen Inspired to Tie Her Sagging Breasts Into a Knot After Watching Dog Balloon Animal Tutorial

Why Subway is Giving Their Too-Short Footlongs a Shot of Viagra

Incredible Video! Cat Hears the Word “Bath” and Runs Faster Than a Young Woman Running Away From Bill Cosby

How to Masturbate Underneath Your Desk at Work Without the Boss Noticing

Harold and Martha: A Phone Conversation

By Austin B. Hahn

(Harold as the narrator.)

I was on the phone with my wife telling her about the new mattress our grandson had bought.

“It’s a futon,” I said.

“A what?” she asked.

“A futon, dear.”

“Spell it.”

“F-U-”

“Harold!”

“What?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? I ask you to spell it, and all you can tell me is F me!? Don’t F me. Go F yourself!”

I said, “Martha, I’m not telling you to go F yourself. I’m telling you how to spell it. I’ve been married to you for thirty-nine years now. If I wanted to tell you ‘F you,’ I would’ve done it a long time ago. It’s a little too late for that now.” She tells me to go on, and I say “F-U-T-O-N,” and then she tells me to slow down, so then I say, “F … U … T …” and then she calls me a jackass for treating her like a moron. I said, “Well, whaattt? Here I am tryin’ to fuckin’ spell it for you, and you’re over here bitchin’ that I’m goin’ too fast, so then I slow down, and now you’re saying that I’m treating you like you’re stupid.” I can’t win with my wife. She’s exhausting!

I finally spell it for her, and then she asks, “Who has a futon???”

July 18th, 2015

By Austin B. Hahn

Dear Journal:

Fuck the gym! I decided to skip it and have sweets for dinner. Marie Antoinette once said, “Let them eat cake,” so I did. Besides, why am I staying in shape . . . so I can get good dick? Ha! I’m afraid that’s about as scarce as a good politician in this country. I’m so fuckin’ tired of looking good and some tired-ass-old bozo messages me on Grindr. Sometimes I don’t understand men. They want a hot piece of ass, but some of them don’t even have a good dick, so they try to compensate for it by driving a big truck.

The ones who really piss me off are the hypocrites. They’re the ones who want someone good-looking, but they themselves look like shit. When some guys message me, I just want to reply, “Have you ever thought about asking yourself this: would you fuck you? If the answer is no, then please do not send me a message, or come back to me after you’ve been consistently going to the gym three to four times a week for about a month and a half.”

This one goes to any woman who is reading this right now: raise your sexpectations! Do not let Tubby McTubbertin be your bare minimum standard of what a man should look like to you. Men are not supposed to have phantom babies. Ladies, you shave your legs, wear makeup, wax your pussies, and you don’t complain. The least he can do is go to the fuckin’ gym, and if he has money, then he can afford to fix himself up.

Anyway, I’m not done complaining.

I was recently at a wedding, which was awful to say the least. No one there was polite enough to ask, “Hey, Austin, so tell me your story about how you fingered someone in a taxi cab?” so, while I was there, I never once said, “Gee, thank you for asking.” My conversations didn’t expand beyond the dull question, “How are you?” which I can’t stand, along with several other phrases:

“I’m (nationality). I have a hot temper.”

Why do some people use their ancestry or nationality as an excuse to justify their bitchy behavior? “Oh I’m Irish,” or, “I’m Italian,” or, “I’m Cuban, and when the Cuban gets angry . . .” Hey guess what? I’m a human being, and I don’t give a fuck.

“Bless you.”

How come some people can say to a complete stranger, “Bless you,” but they can’t stick up for someone they don’t know who’s being physically attacked? This colloquialism exposes how insincere the English language is. Bless me? For what? Because I sneezed? It doesn’t make sense. In Spanish they say, “salud,” which, directly translated, means “health.” That makes sense. You’re sneezing. Maybe you have a cold. Maybe you’re falling ill. Who knows? The point is it makes more sense. I’m amazed that people can tell me, “Bless you,” for doing something as frivolous as sneezing, but when I volunteer at a foodbank, I’ll be lucky if anyone even says, “Bye and thanks for your time.”

“Sorry.”

This word has probably been used more than condoms. “Sorry” has become a social norm to use in everyday conversation in U.S. American culture, but no one means it! “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Bitch, what are you sorry for? There’s even a game called “Sorry!” It’s ridiculous. People in the United States apologize for slamming the door, interrupting someone during a phone conversation, farting in public, belching at the dinner table, and the list goes on. The proper response, in these contexts, would be, “Excuse me.” On the contrary, if they were to get into a dispute with someone, the majority of them would be reluctant to apologize and say, “I was wrong,” because their egos are more important to them. This commonly, overused word also shows how superficial the English language is.

“Live every day as if it were your last.”

I cannot begin to recall how many divorced bitches I have seen who have an expression, such as this one, hanging up on a wall somewhere in their home. I can find the same quote on multiple Facebook and Instagram pages, “Live, Laugh, Love”, for instance, which I find funny because it’s usually posted by people who don’t do any of those things in actual life. What’s more, if everyone were to live each day as if it were their last, the world would be crazy. Would you want to see me twerking my fat ass on top of a table at McDonald’s or getting fucked by a sexy mailman in public? Don’t you tell me you would! Unless you’re a voyeuristic whore, you wouldn’t like to see what I do on casual Friday.

“Have a good one.”

What am I supposed to have that’s good??? A blowjob? A drink? A vacation? Be more specific. If you want to wish me a good day, a nice weekend, or a wonderful vacation, then say so.

“I’m good.”

When I ask someone, “How are you?” I want to know how that person is feeling. Being vague by saying, “I’m good,” tells me absolutely nothing. What is “good” to you? For some, “good” means they’re feeling happy while for others it means they’re as high as the Eiffel Tower. I understand there are certain social situations that require discretion, but if I’m asking how you’re doing, it’s because you’re a friend or a family member, and I care. I don’t ask people I don’t know how they’re feeling, which brings me to my final thoughts . . .

I’m not a car salesman or a pretentious asshole . . . well, at least I try not to be. Since I’m not getting paid to kiss anyone’s ass, I’m not going to pretend to be interested in somebody for the sake of small talk. I’m a passionate person, and I don’t appreciate false statements of well-being. With the exception of detached professionalism and avoiding disclosure in the business world, don’t come to me with your bullshit asking, “How are you?” when you don’t care. It’s annoying, and people rarely like to feel as if they’re talking to a robot. Connect with people by asking something genuine instead, and open yourself up.

We only scratch the surface in artificial conversations. When we share ourselves and we’re receptive to others through listening using non-judgmental body language, we create opportunities to form relationships with people we might’ve been looking for our whole lives. You could be talking with the love of your life, your best friend, your business partner who helps launch your career, or you might learn something from someone you wished you would’ve learned years ago. Take risks in communication. Approach someone with more depth than just, “Hi. How are you?” and you will discover how the power of your everyday communication affects your life.