It Costs $50 to Spit in New York City

…which leads me to my thesis statement of this post: it costs more to spit legally in New York City than it does to park illegally in Los Angeles. Must be the recession.

So I’m watching The Forbidden Kingdom on dvd (I lost interest once one of the bad guys started fighting with her hair) and I decided to reflect on how amazing the past year has been for me. Because that’s what I do when I’m bored: I think about how awesome I am. For those of you unfamiliar with my life story (detached enough to not know my history, yet interested enough to read this blog?), a quick year-by-year recap would look like this (all dates are approximate):
+1983 — Born in California (Palm Springs).
+1984 — Learned to pee.
+1985-1987 — Napped.
+1988 — Went to Disneyland for the first time.
+1989 — Cast in first acting role; portrayed Mr. D, a character on the educational children’s show, The Letter People.
+1990 — Got yelled at by my teacher (Mrs. Klebe) for referencing The Letter People on the first day of 1st grade. It dawns on me that she was probably younger then, than I am now. Which just makes her more of a jerk.
+1991 — Started rooting for the Cincinnati Bengals…they wouldn’t post a winning season for the next 15 years.
+1992-1995 — Watched/Quoted The Little Mermaid.
+1996 — Kicked out of then-unknown boy band N*Sync for being “too good looking.”
+1997 — Learned to pee in a bathroom.
+1998 — Didn’t happen. I’m convinced that 1998 was just a figment of my imagination.
+1999 — Saw The Matrix.
+2000 — Fixed the international “Y2K bug” using only a garden hose, some Silly Putty, and the color cerulean.
+2001 — Fixed the less-popular “Y2K1 bug,” which turned out not be a bug at all, just a crappy VCR.
+2002 — Graduated…kind of (can’t seem to find that diploma anywhere).
+2003-2005 — Mostly blacked out.
+2006 — Graduated…kind of (I don’t know if it counts as graduating if no one outside of Westerville, OH has ever heard of your college).
+2007 — Did some “real world.” Didn’t like it.
+2008 — Fined for peeing.
+2009 — Fined for spitting.

And there you have it. My quarter-century of existence reduced to a few fragmented sentences and a couple heavily-misused mathematical symbols. That’s what a $30K-per-year private college education gets you, apparently. However, all you Dustin Fans out there needn’t worry, the story doesn’t end here, it only gets more exciting! Don’t believe me? It’s probably because I’m lying! No but really, here’s a look at some of the amazing and exciting things I have planned for the next several years of my life:

+2010 — Figure out some sort of shortened slang for the new year since we can’t say “Oh-Nine” to mean ’09 anymore. Nobody wants to go around saying “Twenty-Ten” every time they need to reference the current year.
+2011 — Assassinate Mrs. Klebe.
+2012 — Singlehandedly save the entire world from complete and total annihilation and anarchy. Just to spite the Mayans and their crappy calendaring skills.
+2013 — Hold hands with a girl.
+2014 — Get thrown in jail all year for something bodily-fluid related.
+2015 — Star as one of the main characters in either/both Shrek the Seventh or Saw XII (that’s Saw 12 for anyone who doesn’t do Roman Numerals).
+2016-2018 — Power nap.
+2019 — Use my accumulated power, connections, fame, and wealth to really make my kids feel inferior to me.
+2020 — Make nonstop Hugh Downs/Barbara Walters jokes/puns.

So as you can see, things are really looking up for me over the next decade — and if you’re lucky enough, maybe you’ll all be around to share in my amazing life (except Mrs. Klebe, who will have met her early demise in an unfortunate “accident” of some sort. Nobody disses Mr. D).

Until next time the voices in my head command me to write, I bid you adieu.


That’ll be $50, please. No, we don’t take Metrocards.

One thought on “It Costs $50 to Spit in New York City

  1. Colin Rigsby says:

    Well,actually, we can still say “Oh-ten,” since there is an “0” before the 10. Our reall trouble will arrive with the year 2100. Fortunately we won’t be around to worry about that one.

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