Sunday, March 29, 2020

🩠The Qwazy Quarantine🏠

     Tom and Tina’s relationship never was the same after the Great Quarantine of 2020. At first, her lil jigsaw puzzle habit was adorable, assembling the Eiffel Tower over strawberry crepes and French toast, the Hollywood Sign whilst snacking on churros and sipping horchata or cobbling up the state of Florida over a brunch of pamplemousse La Croix, deluxe-sized Slim Jims and a wicker platter of fresh methberries, plucked from the backyard of a blended family of semi-professional wrestlers. Then, slowly but surely, all the time that Tom and Tina spent together began to somehow multiply exponentially, hours turning into days turning into weeks turning into late night arguments over laundry and the dishwasher and whether or not they should foster a kitten and name it Larry. 
     The entire marriage came to a head over a couple bowls of New England-style clam chowder. Tina had purchased the bowls after several Bloody Marys at a antique farmers market in Santa Fe, New Mexico on one of her many Ladies Trips. After Tina and her troop of friends left the Target parking lot (which hosted the antique farmers market every Thursday from 3-7 pm beginning the week of the first day of Spring and ending the week of Halloween, sponsored by Ralph’s Pizzeria and Ice Cream Shoppe: If it ain’t Ralph’s, we ain’t buyin’), the executive director of the market, Tammi Woodbury, banned large groups of eight or more middle-aged women from attending the weekly market or as the local weirdos like to call it Cougar Country. 
“How’s your chowdah, honey bunny?” Tina asked her beau. 
“Same as it always tastes...every Tuesday night for the past eleven years.” Tom snapped back.
“I like New England-style clam chowder. It reminds me of when we watched our favorite movie, Fever Pitch, for the first time together. We had both seen it at least twenty times before but none were sweeter than that first time we saw it together and decided to get matching Red Sox tattoos on our butt cheeks even though we’re just a couple kids from North Carolina and the closest thing we had to professional baseball was when Cousin Stanley got a few too many moonshine shoeys in him and he would take a baseball bat and start whackin’ trees down in the backyard like he was on some of that Rambo shit.”
“I forgot how much I love you, woman. Now let’s watch clips of Jimmy Fallon’s late night show on YouTube and get housed. You in?”
“Hell yeah, babe, you know you married a rockstar, babe.”
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Thursday, March 26, 2020

đŸ˜·The Quarantine Diaries #3đŸ§€

Dear Quarantine Diary,

What day is it now? Does it even matter anymore? These shenanigans have transmogrified into one long tailgate for the most infected football game of all time. Treat yourself well - drink a lot of water, go for walks and don’t eat too many Rice Krispy treats. Set some personal goals for 2020 and write them down. Watch less TV and read more but don’t be one of those people who gets rid of their TV and always somehow manages to jam that fact into everyday conversation - no one likes that person and they’re not as smart as they think. There’s tons of good stuff on TV these days (well, I don’t know about cable cuz I don’t have that but I’m talking about Netflix and YouTube.) Watching an interesting conversation on a podcast on YouTube is more productive than watching one of the Kardashians search for a diamond earring in the ocean (although that was pretty messed up the way that dude tossed her in like she was a sack of potatoes and he was an Idaho blue blood.)

There’s lots of different ways to make the world a better place - maybe it’s just smiling and saying hi to people when you go for a walk or picking up garbage or holding the door for someone (back when we used to go into these places that were called businesses and we would use this thing called money to purchase these things called Shredded Chicken Quesadilla Melts) or churning out a bunch of blog posts and podcasts to entertain the quarantined homies in between Netflix binges.

Love,

Topher Gopher
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Wednesday, March 25, 2020

📚The Quarantine Diaries #2🍕

Dear Quarantine Diary,

Sign off. What are you doing on here? That screen time is off the hook. Take a walk and leave the phone on the bed. Get out there into nature. Go chase a squirrel. Don’t steal its nuts though - you won’t be able to find a health care provider if you catch a gnarly case of the rabies. 

Stop following the news all day, erry day. It’s mostly garbage - biased, bought and brain-infecting. The news is like sports but without the mascots or...wait a second, the anchors are the mascots. It’s like a good ol’ fashioned college football mascot rivalry game on NCAA ‘04 from the legend...wait for it...ary EA Sports. 

So take a break from binging your favorite show on Netflix - it’ll be there tomorrow and the next day. If your watching The Office on Netflix, though, that show is leaving at the end of 2020 but thankfully you have plenty of time to cuddle up with your couch-full of kittens and pre-packaged snacks. 

Love,

Topher Gopher
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🩠The Quarantine Diaries #1🏠

Dear Quarantine Diary,

I miss people. Most of them, not really, but sometimes you would meet an interesting one and have a great conversation, completely unexpected, out of the blue. I miss touching a stranger’s hand - not in a weird, creepy uncle kind of way but in a wholesome, white picket fence Midwestern new to the cul-de-sac kind of way. I miss regular podcast banter and checking basketball boxes scores the next morning. I miss going for walks and people not crossing the street when they see you like a racist even though you’re both white.

I miss going to the gym. Remember the gym? It seems like eons since I stepped foot in a 24 Hour even though it’s been nary a fortnight (speaking of which, I don’t miss Fort Nite - is it possible to miss something you never loved?) I miss the sauna - being super hot for no reason - that’s the best. 

I don’t miss traffic but it was nice when I had to go somewhere - it’s always better to be busy. Busy people get the most things done but it totally makes sense - that’s why they’re so busy - they’re busy doing all these things. They wouldn’t be a busy person if they didn’t get stuff done and they wouldn’t get stuff done unless they were so busy. I feel a bit lazy from sticking around the house all day but still productive - the podcast and blog are up and running, firing on all cylinders in this time of temporary universal hermitage. Why not? If not now, then when else? If I couldn’t muster up a few podcasts and blog posts at this point, I would be seriously worried that something might be up. Productivity is just waiting for you every morning - take the bait. 

Love,
Topher Gopher 
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đŸ§șProductivity @ Home🏠

     Are you home right now? You probably should be unless your job has been deemed essential or you’re playing beer pong in or in the vicinity of an alligator-infested Florida lagoon or shooting an elk in Montana or perhaps you’re walking your dog for the fourth time today. The world has their panties in a bunch (that sentence looks pretty in pink), celebrities are losing their attention-hogging minds that work like heat-seeking missiles on the brink of destroying an innocent village of tribespeople inhabiting a chain of islands in the vicinity of Ibiza and staying home has become the new superpower, saving the universe one microwavable appetizer at a time. 
     Producing content has transformed into more than an artform - it’s now a way of life as Instagram Live videos have usurped bouncing balls and whistles in the mindless entertainment department (although I would argue it’s more intellectually efficient to watch a mid-major conference tournament than a C list celebrity strum away on their acoustic guitar like they’re trying to get laid in the parking lot of a Phish concert. 
     Now is the time for the Average Joe to become the Average Joe Pesci - it’s your time to shine, you talented, underappreciated, beautiful sonofabitch. For far too many years you’ve been relegated to the cappuccino machine, pumping away at that thing like your goddamn life depended on it. Now is the time to write that screenplay that you were so inspired to write after that you saw Rocky for the first time. That was twenty eight years ago. You’ve been sitting on a pile of gold for going on three decades now, my friend. Do you keep a journal? You should, if you’re into that kind of thing.
     Time used to be something you valued - now it’s something you waste, pecking away on your mobile device, checking in on your numerous social media accounts and sipping overpriced coffee (well, at least you’re making your coffee at home for now.) You can make your time work for you by putting it to good use with every extra hour of freedom you have because of the big Q. If you’re working from home, you could read a book or go for a walk (but casually jog away from any people you come across) during the time that you would be commuting instead of checking the news for the nineteenth time before 11 am. If you lost your job and desperately need money, you could check to see if the grocery store is hiring (thanks to Joey Coco Diaz for that recommendation - “Where’s the frozen peas, cocksuckah!”) Or if you need entertainment you could explore your creative side and start writing a blog or a book or doing a podcast or doing one of those adult coloring books (but don’t let your children see any of the dirty pictures.) Or if you wanna be lazy and do nothing you could just keep doing that and no one would notice, probably. In all seriousness, this is an opportunity knocking on your door - a chance to do a complete overhaul of what makes you you or to just reaffirm the path that you are already heading down, a chance to take over your life and determine for once and for all what kind of person you want to be and how you’re gonna make it all happen.  No matter what, someday everything you have ever known is just gonna be dust in the wind, blowing away gently into the Grand Canyon or some other national park but your grandchildren are probably gonna listen to some embarrassing stuff you said on a podcast and be like, “Grandpa made some good points - this is boring, though, let’s go have a virtual realty gangbang.”
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🩠Rona Riddles Pt 2đŸ§Œ

“Refill the ice, Ross.” 
Ross was jarred from his illustrious daydream, reeled in back to reality by his mortal enemy - his manager, Terry Sue. Now, Terry Sue wasn’t any ordinary Menchies manager, not that there is such a thing or that there is such a thing as ordinary in this modern day and age of blended families and blended milkshakes (which you can find on the Menchies menu in a variety of sizes and flavors, Ross’s favorite being the Raspburied Alive and Terry Sue’s being Camel Lights (coincidentally, she has a string of camel lights draped around her “Thinking Room”, illuminating her many stacks of Readers Digest editions from the 80s and pictures of Hollywood leading men cut out of magazines like a friendly serial killer, ceremoniously arranged in a Midwestern Ofrenda to the lords of TMZ.)
“Why do I always have to do it? Sherry just sits on her phone all day, doin Lord knows what!” Ross yelped to his boss (and don’t even get her started on Yelp), immediately throwing his sweaty palms over his word trap. 
Sherry reluctantly looked up from her iPhone, snapping a beach ball-sized bubble of pink Major League Chew in the face of authority.
“Beat it, nerd.” She snarled at Ross, a phrase that had been spoken so many times that it had lost complete meaning by that point. 
“You’ll see. One day I’m gonna be a movie star. People are gonna be lining up to shake my hand like the mayor. They’ll call me the Movie Mayor.” Ross muttered, half to himself and half to his future self, as he snatched the dirty ice bucket.
“Hey, Ross buddy?” Sherry offered up. 
“Yeah?” He chirped, turning around in hopes of receiving words of encouragement on par with Kurt Russell barking at his squad in between whistle tweeps in the magnificent film that relives a treasured piece of American history, Miracle. 
“Hose that shit down.” 
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đŸ§ŒQuarantine Haikus🏠

Purell currency
Take a shower & a nap
Make your own schedule

Work out in your room
You Don’t Know Jumping Jack, sweat
Planking works the core

Quarantine and chill
Most peeps subscribe to Netflix 
Stream of consciousness 

Go to the store, risk
Paranoid postal workers 
Halloween - masks 
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Tuesday, March 24, 2020

🩠Rona RiddlesđŸ§Œ

“Are you telling me that if this thing gets to the people, there’s no limit to the damage that it will inflict on us all?” 
Growled President The Rock as he slowly peaked his jutted-out dart chin over his bulky shoulder mountain as he let this statement hang in the air for what seemed like an eternity but what was probably no longer than a Quibi (hopefully you saw that YouTube ad and that company hasn’t dissolved by the time you read this.)
His Secretary of Whatever fumbled his enormous stack of papers like Leon Lett at the goal line (why hasn’t this guy gone green yet? C’mon, guy.)
“That’s what the scientists are saying - you don’t trust science?” The Secretary of Whatever chirped with a flaky facade of confidence. 
“I fought Science once when I was younger...We went twelve rounds in the blazing Sun of the Australian Outback. It left me with a fistful of scars but Science...shit...Science left in a body bag, son. Science was never the same after that - now all the people can talk about is their cousin, technology. People have started to question Science like they never did before and they don’t know it but it’s because of what I did to that poor sonofabitch and I probably should have finished the dirty work. Science had a pet cat, Chester, one of them big cats that you’re not allowed to have in a place where you would want to live (you are, of course, allowed them to have them in a place where you wouldn’t want to live but that’s the tax you pay for not living there.) I took Chester home and he quickly became one of my most treasured possessions although I don’t think it’s possible to own such a beautiful, wild beast of the jungle. One day Chester asked me what ever happened to his father, Science. I told him I had to take out the trash and burst into tears while I barreled down the driveway in hopes of covering my shame, not wanting to admit that I, too, in a moment of weakness might be driven to actually being human. When I came back into the kitchen, Chester was nowhere to be found but there was a note with beautiful penmanship. It read, ‘Dearest President The Rock, 
Thank you so much for your kindness and gentleness in raising me to be who I am today, valedictorian at the sanctuary and going to State on a full-ride scholarship for football. I would never change a thing, even if a genie magically leapt out of a TV screen and granted me three wishes, they would all be to spend more time with you. I miss my dad, though...my real dad. I miss Science. And I know that you told me a million times that I don’t need him, that he’s a garbage person with garbage values but sometimes I feel like I need to figure it out for myself and this is one of those times. I don’t want to do it but I just feel like it’s one of those things that I have to do or it’s gonna eat away at me my whole life until I’m 86 years old and an usher at a Major League Baseball stadium. So I’m gonna go now, I’m already gone. I can’t thank you enough for everything but I can’t bring myself to look you in the face and say goodbye so I hope this is good enough or worth something at least. 
Love,
Chester”
When President The Rock looked up from this extended soliloquy, his Secretary of Whatever turned out to be a frozen yogurt machine and he turned out to be an aspiring Menchies manager. 
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Thursday, March 19, 2020

đŸŽčGlee HaikusđŸŽ€

Trust fall generation
Ohio harmony, rad
Teacher misconduct

Hit those high notes, babe
Jingles - champion breakfasts 
All-you-can-sing style

Piano beard guy
Red, trusty musical mime
Boston Brad Ellis

Kinda evil Kurt
Finn’s love saboteur, dead mom
Son of mechanic

Meet Sue Sylvester 
Bully of students, teachers
Also everyone

Sue wears sweet jumpsuits
Where does she get all of ‘em?
Does she own a store?

Sue’s store for jumpsuits
Made for any occasion 
Wreck a funeral

That’s how Sue C’s It
People are not made equal
Beautiful ones win

Slushee in the face
Brutally honest action
Now it’d be assault 

Don’t stop believin’
Pre-social media charm
Life is a Journey

Quinn’s choice - Finn or Puck
Mohawked rebel or Ken doll
Both carry a tune
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Wednesday, March 18, 2020

đŸŒ» Spring HaikusđŸŒ»

Friday, Spring kick off
With no XFL, although
We miss it deeply

March Madness, sans sports
Stay inside, watch the paint dry
Finger paint for fun

March is on my mind
I’m such a calendar ho
Horny for leap years

I’m binge watching Glee
Our politics have shifted  
We used to be cool

‘member Spring Training?
For old people and babies
No one in between

Spring in present times
No one cares about you, babe
Blinded by the tweets

March on my month friend
You’re green for grass and Irish
Normally more sports 

Spring Break, amigo!
Cancun trip, random marriage
Live there forever 

Call your parents, dude
Make sure they’re not in the dark 
Or trapped in news-hole

Nature doesn’t care
Virus or not, Spring will come 
Just with less old folks
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🏈Tommy’s Tampa TitleTown🏈

A fleet of dune buggies pulls up to a shaved ice kiosk in the middle of the mostly deserted beach, a few miles from Raymond James Stadium, home of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, who have been pathetic for the most part of the better part of the last always (minus the magical ‘02 Super Bowl run, led by several rolls of Warren Sapp’s back fat and a Tony Dungy freckle.) 
“Did you hear the big news, son?” 
The apparent leader of the wolfpack barked at the pimply, gangly teen manning (if you could call it that...he’s certainly no Peyton or even an Eli...more of a Cooper...) the frozen ice stand like his life depended on it (wait a second, on second thought it seemed like he might walk away from the job for a gaggle of reasons, one of them not being spending quality time with the opposite sex.)
“No sir. What happened - did Tom Cruise finally win a much-deserved Oscar after years of denying the simple pleasure of turning the crafts services table into a personal all-you-can-eat buffet?”
The scary leader of the wolfpack snarled a laugh from under that scary Bane mask that Marshawn Lynch used to rock except this Bane mask was covered with buccaneer-themed items like cannons and treasure maps and creamsicle-colored uniforms. 
“No, although I agree - I think it’s time the Academy recognizes true greatness for all that it is - an undersized, everyday possession receiver who took the cinematic universe by storm and forced them to reconsider what it means to be a leading man (although that phrase may be out of sync with the current political times that we live in - I’m gonna start saying leading person.) Alas, we picked up the Tom Cruise of quarterbacks, Tom Brady - the dude was always underestimated and he always overperforms. This will certainly be an interesting season in The Bay for us season ticket holders. Anyway, lemme get a watermelon flavored shaved ice, hold the melon.”
“That’s great news about Mr. Brady, I’ve heard good things about his playing skills although I’ve never seen a game. I’ve never owned a TV and spend my nights watching the waves crash into the sand and playing Counting Crows songs on my acoustic guitar before retiring to my treehouse to work on my memoirs and sip a steamy mug (which I hand-carved out of my home) of hibiscus tea before dozing off while listening to owls make sweet love in my backyard. Do you know what it sounds like when a parliament of owls are going at it like they’re trying to get to the center of a straight up Halloween-haul-sized pillow case jam packed  full of Tootsie Pops? It’s like that old dial-up tone that went off when you signed onto AOL meets a bunch of demon ghosts going HAM on a Travel Channel production team.” 
Millhouse had suddenly transformed into The Most Interesting Man in the World, before the shocked eyes of the wolfpack leader and his wolfpack. 
“Well, now isn’t that just lovely.”
“So, you just want a cup of ice water?”
“Yup.”
“Alright, here you go.”
“Now, you take care, now. Bye.”
And with that, the wolfpack leading Bane-Wannabe, having missed the last several visits to the eye doctor after a newfound obsession with bright flashing lights festivals, unknowingly led his pack of ne’er do well misfits straight off a cliff, the only one in Tampa Bay. 
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Tuesday, March 17, 2020

☘St Paddy’s Day Haikus☘

Celtic pride, Wahlbergs
Green beer, electric taters 
Drink at home this year

Celebrate Boston
Fun, annoying Irish fahks 
Alcohol is bad

Clocks just went forward
Spring begins Friday *bird chirp*
World ends in April 

Viral holiday
Quarantined quietly, quaint 
‘Cept Dave the Drummer 

Finally sunny
Dreary virus weather gone
Mom Nature was sick 
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Tom Brady Leaving the Patriots Haikus🏈

Tommy leaving town
A sad day in New England
Fahkin’ Pats...get drunk 

Goodbye forever
Wicked, not in a good way
Still though, fahk Eli

Six rings for Boston
The Golden Boy with a goat
Also he’s the GOAT

Tom’s not the quickest
Nor the strongest or tallest
Just knows how to win

Take Joe Montana
Peyton, Marino, Fav-ruh
Tom is the Rushmore 

Fantasy football
Took Jimmy G under wing
Yoda but hotter 

Deep slant, touchdown Tom
QB sneak, D caught sleeping
iPad spike, scare team

Ol sleeveless hoodie
Coach B is one of the best 
Mr. Grumpy Face
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Monday, March 16, 2020

TP HaikusđŸ§»

Clean your bum good now
Only a matter of days
Til yearly checkup

Build a TP fort
Sequester yourself inside
IG Live that shit

Poop is important
How many rolls do you have?
Forty is a lot

Two ply or not to
The question that plagues us all
Signed William Shakespoo

TP your neighbor
You’ll go viral on Tik Tok
Wait, viral is bad

Napkins will work fine
Who’s gonna know anyway?
Chuck Berry, deep pull
Save the 🐳 

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Corona Activities

1. Binge watch an old show on Netflix (I’m doing Glee season one - Sue Sylvester never got her due as one of the most hilarious snarks in the ocean that is late 00s network television and the Finn-Quinn-Puck love triangle has my head spinning quicker than a mother of seven bull-rushing the toilet paper aisle at Costco. Not to mention careening a Slushee off someone’s face (they wish you would simply Kareem it and sky hook that sugary sucker into the garbage can for six) violates three to several local ordinances in the fictional Ohio Valley region. Seriously though, that black guy in the group that doesn’t talk - what’s the deal there? I’m waiting for the very special episode where the club has an emotional intervention for the poor kid - “Let it out, Matty - this world wasn’t prepared for your grace. Twinkle those toes, you beautiful sonofabitch.”)
2. Write a letter to an old friend or Santy Klaus 
3. Sing a song
4. Drink some homemade coffee (Starbucks is too infected...with hipsters.)
5. Write a list of Corona-related activities 
6. Remember some good memories
7. Do a lil dance that you made up and couldn’t replicate if you had to do another take
8. Pet your cat (“Not TOO hard, now. That’s it, sport. I like your spirit. Gumption - you got gumption and you can’t teach it - your momma never could, no more, anyway.”)
9. Read a book
10. Write a book
11. Listen to a book
12. Book bookity bookie book
Save the 🐳 
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