Hothlanta and Snowmaggedon solved through the mysterious powers of consulting!

Hey everybody! I figured I would let the storm weather out in Atlanta before I posted another blog post. Okay, that’s a lie. I live in San Francisco. Its been beautiful, and honestly, if I wasn’t at work with my big boy panties on (read lacy boy shorts) I was out in the park… Grocery shopping. Whatever. Fact is its been 13 days. Far too long. On a side note, I actually started doing some real work, and thus my life got boring super fast. First, as a Star Wars fan, thank you for all the Hothlanta pictures. They tickled my tummy like a fine aged moonshine with burnt oak in the glass.

Welcome to Hotlanta where the TaunTauns play

And we ride on the T-16 like every day

Big lasers, set phasers, see troopers roamin

An ewok party don’t stop till death star is burnin

Also I know phaser is a Star Trek term, but F off, this $hit is hard.  I am going to combine the problems with Atlanta into a Consulting gig. What we have are several situations. We have supply chain management, Organizational change, people management, and other fun buzzwords that probably won’t get you laid during the Super bowl.

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My typical weekend date. I dont know if its the hair, beard, or constant crying and snizzling about my absentee kitty, but man, always getting destroyed. All of us! Maybe its a new cultural thing? You know where culture is not an indication of a serious serious problem. And yes, if its champagne or house wife wine... its not a problem, its a solution. 

First, supply chain. Guys. This happened in 2011. People were ice skating down peachtree. 2 in 3 years. Might be time to buy some infrastructure browskis. At least do a cost benefit analysis of the economy downswing due to time off from shutting down THE WHOLE F’N CITY  and the cost of a few snowblowers. In 2011 we had like 3 machines, now we have over 40. What was the problem? Sherman did a better job of melting the snow over 100 years ago. Granted… he also burnt my beloved home. Yeap. Screw you Sherman. Why couldn’t you just set Charlotte on fire? No one cares about that place. At all. Its not even hell, it’s a weird purgatory of bitterness and losership. But I digress.

The following is a quiz. This is either 

A. my friends in Atlanta during snowmageddon trapped at the office

, B. My Ex that hates the fact she chose charlotte and the carnie to live with

C. Me everyday under my desk avoiding my Manager. 

D. All the above, we are living in tears, wine, and work. 

We need policies in place. And don’t tell me they exist. Strip clubs have better policies (actually pretty strict ones if you think about it). Which comes organizational change! Hire GMs of strip clubs to be policy makers. I am just saying… this could be a game changer. And they would probably be less corrupt. Fine, you don’t want to hire my friends. Whatever. At least do the people management! Get a sister city in the north. Maybe a Canadian one. Then do a switch. They can have Kassim Reed, Nathan Deal, and Santa (cause he’s 'merican), and we can have whoever the hell is in charge of snow patrol. I still say we won.

Just think about what Atliens (people from Atlanta) could teach Canada! 

And then they will instantaneously teach the city how to fix the road system when we have 2, yes 2, inches of snow. 

Lastly, how do we pay for this? I mean the politicians bar tabs are so high as it is and lobbyists only have so much cash… well don’t worry. I got your back. Taxes. Don’t freak out.  I say we tax the hipsters. I don’t know why. It just feels right. Low income will cry foul, the rich pay taxes, so… I think hipsters should add to the economy. And no, buying Schlitz and flannels from ragorama don’t count as major contributions to GDP. Sorry. Now that people, is a motherf’n consulting roadmap.

Or we could just blow the mother up and start over. Just saying... I know a guy. 

An Option Trader's guide to love

Happy Fish Fry Friday everyone! MTFU or whatever you got to do to lube those wheels of inhibitions to get weird, wake up next to someone you don’t know, and live life! So, for the past few… lives… I have been Dionysius, so trying to take it easy. I feel like this is a good time though to help out my friends with the years of knowledge I have gained attempting to turn myself into a successful business and sociopath. So today’s short topic! Guide to the opposite sex for an options trader: Protective Put.

Listen to me. I am an OG. For realz. Bitches be like options ya hear. Puts, Calls, Strangles, Iron Reverse Condor. Bullish Long Spread, LEAPS. All options, all sex moves, all the time. Plus when have I ever led you people wrong?

First, an option is a bet (think roulette) on the price movement of a stock. When the ball stops on red 32, well that is the time limit on an option, 32 is the price the stock had to reach for you to make money (if a call), etc. Now there is a thing called a protective put, and this little beauty can be utilized in real life as well as your dungeons and dragons stock trading games (NERDS). This strategy is used to guard against the loss of unrealized gains (half of you just said WTF, stop, just stop, tell us about your love life… consulting, but stop). Anywho, let’s say you have a handle of fireball, the bar is about to be empty of fireball, so you can sell it to that schmuck on the row team for double the price. You heard through your buddy Dave that the some friend of a friend is on the way with tons more $hit, which would render your fireball worth… fireball. But there are DUI checkpoints, so he might get F’d, in that case, the bar runs out, and you can make it rain fireball, dance with the gogo dancer, kiss that cute, emo-looking angry chick, and be the master of the night, you know, the Nosferatu of fireball. But that Ahole is smart, and sometimes gets through DUI checkpoints, so you agree to sell it to Andy in an hour for a good price (still profit), and that’s a maybe. You even give him a shot as down payment. Fireball shows up! You sell to Andy, Andy is slightly f’d. Fireball doesn’t show up, You make it rain like Usher at a teen’s birthday party. Twerk.

Andy will probably say this to you, but its his own damn fault. F him. You made your money off that fireball in an honest and godly way. He can go back to his $hit life, with his $hit toaster over, his $hit friends... you never liked him anyways. Why is he even here? God... If we could just have one day a year where you could Machete people in the face... life would be complete. 

Now the reason for the explanation is that this can be used for meeting that “special someone.” You don’t want to go home alone, but you don’t want to go home with a troll. Below is the chart that will save your life, check it out. Love it, details are below.

Try to follow me... Pink is the girl you are going home with. Time&money is X-axis, Hotometer is Y-axis. There, you came thank me later for your troll free life. No more beer belly frat boys for you ladies and no more "I might be preggo, thats why I love eggo" ladies for the boys. 

Pink line is the potential mate for the evening, or true love, or whatever. Alright the pink line is not really negative where it flattens out, but a “normally acceptable” situation. You know, you have hooked up with her a few times, she’s nice, but it’s probably not going anywhere (or if you are a girl, same thing, but he is a commitmentphobe… I mean, you haven’t even met his kids yet).  The nice thing about the flat line though is that there is minimum effort. This is the drunk booty text, the “lets hang out and get Chinese food in our jammies cause we have nothing to prove to our self-loathing selves.”  You move up the line, dreamy mcsteamy / Christian bale but not violent / Depp but not Tonto / Kristen Bell / Elize Coupe / Betty White, the more time, money, and effort you have to put in. Don’t lie, we have all been there. You want the gold? Start swimming, you aren’t Phelps, he is built like the jolly green giant, so you have to bring other attributes to the table. Like thigh high stockings. Old school style, Corsets, for guys: Suspenders, hipster hat, champagne. Also let me point out Attractiveness is not just physical. We are talking about your perfect soulmate (okay not really, but I don’t want judgment). So there you have it. I basically told you to keep a backup, and then make it rain in the club. You just read over 800 words of jibberish. But we spent some quality time together. Aren’t you happy? Also, watch out for the time decay of options. That $hit can kill any moment. 

Alright He-man, you have the power. What you gonna do? Ready for the weekend? Ready to ride? Rough ride or die like its the 90's! 

Selling out: The real definition

Alright it has been two weeks since I made a post, so back on the wagon. Actually, I was taking a short break. 2014 is kicking me pretty hard socially and physically (but never work load haha). Going down an uncertain path I didn’t really feel like writing about. Okay fine, there was that, but honestly I have been drinking way too much, not doing anything interesting, and wondering how it’s possible for me to watch 3 movies a day while “at work.” There you happy? You made me cry.

In line with today's topic. I might not be a good person, but I am sure as hell better than you... dick.

So anyways, I think there is time for a serious blog post. I was giving advice to a friend (fine frenemy… double fine an ex), as she was having issues with her live in boyfriend. Basically, they didn’t like their lifestyle. I mean we don’t need to be shining like diamonds, but you know, premium toilet paper is a plus. She discussed the idea with him of studying hard, getting an MBA, and getting a 6 figure job. You know, bettering yourself. A huge fight erupted followed by disappointing love making (also in my imagination, he is a midget that rides tricycles around the house). Basically, he apologized for not being me (but do we really need the whole world apologizing for not being me?), and said life was his fault that now his woman (also he is a masochist in my head. A lap dog masochist… I know, makes no sense) was going to go to school, sell out, work for the man, to achieve the wanted lifestyle. Sell out. Work for the man. Words he actually utilized. Basically, to be me. Hate to tell you Jack-off. Working hard, getting a good job, is not selling out. It’s actually the selfless thing to do. And I will explain later. First though, Frack you (nerd love). You call me a sell out, and I call you a pathetic excuse for a hippie that no person could ever love, much less an intelligent god, or a woman… or a goldfish, and those fishes have like 5 second memories or some shit.

This is your life. Hopefully literally, but I will accept metaphorically as well. 

Where do people get off telling someone not to better themselves through education? I get the do what you love thing, but seriously, you repair tricycles in the Carolinas… you aren't exactly Survivorman or Into the Wild. You aren't even on Xgames. You don’t even competitively do what you love for a living. My friends that work at the plant are more in line with me than you. Cause you don’t really work. Do anything. Blue collar and white collar people hate you. Doing what you love, living off your parents, and not preparing for the future is what I consider to be selfish. You basically are a prick. What about your future family? What about taking care of your parents? What about siblings? Loved ones? Do you have any idea how much it costs to raise a kid? 143,160, and dude… that’s without perks, in rural areas where the kid will turn out as Shitty as you . Let’s add some things… say, you know, that my kid would get. Top private school education for high school. Hopefully the au pair can grant some knowledge on Bordeaux before then haha.  The best school in Atlanta (can’t even imagine San Francisco at this point) was around 24,000 a year. 96,000. I don’t know man… you might have to sell your Trek bike to pay for that…. That’s not even college. The average cost for an Ivy League education is around 50,000 a year. 200k. Do you even know what the K means Asshat? At a minimum, rural area, with a chance for your kid to actually do something great with his/her life (think Obama or Bush or Margaret Thatcher... or any character from the show Royal Pains)… you are looking at half a million.

My kid bad, my kid good, my kid got ROI that ya kid wish she could.

 Props if you get the above reference. ATL can you hear me?!? So yea. I’m a sell out for working my ass off for my future family. Well as you are… I don’t even know what you are doing. You honestly should just call it quits. On life. Or go full hippie. That’s the only real point that my friend (ex… whatever) could make. Was that if I wasn't being super awesome successful guy, I would be making documentaries in Cambodia. I tried. I applied for the Fullbright scholarship when I was 22 to document demonic possessions across the world. Didn’t get it. So… yea, guess that investment in my future is really selling out. … Bottom line. If you work for the man, sold out, etc. then really you are doing it right. The pathetic people calling you that are just placing rose colored glasses on because if they didn’t, they would hang themselves. Which, might be a less drag on the economy, but again, they are selfish. Alright got that out of my system. Everyone work hard! Better yourself! Love life! But most of all… sell out!

This is your future daughter. She told me her name was Trixie. This is what she does for a dollar, imagine what I can get her to do for a Toaster Oven? Sleep on that. 

2014 is already trying to kill me. You couldn't wait... 4 seconds?

#1 resolution: Sneeze during an orgasm

Happy 2014 everyone! Thank god that Biatch 2013 is dead and gone. I didn’t even go to her funeral. I did however throw a full moon party on her grave the following Saturday with all my rave friends… cause that’s what we do in consulting. Raves. When we aren’t doing excel. Molly and excel. That will take you to new heights.  So new year. New adventures right? Well like 99% of America, I have new year’s resolutions. I know. I’m perfect. No need to change. Yada yada Scooby Doo. But we can always tweak perfection. Just look at Katy Perry’s plastic surgeon. Also, she looks a little like Jay Leno. Which I find hot. Maybe that needs to change… anyways, here we go! My second resolution was to take a step back, and just meditate on myself. Can you tell I moved to San Francisco? Truthfully, my recent foray into the House of Lies career and social life has taken a toll. I worry about crow’s feet, I think there is grey in my stubble, and my back hurts. That being said, what a hell of a roller coaster ride. So, I told my friends, I am taking a sabbatical. My body needs to rest. I’m going to be a good kid. Then when the countdown happen, it all went to $hit. I swore 2014 would be the year of Johnny, not Johnny finding love, Johnny working hard, Johnny doing anything. Just me.  A calm in the storm of life, but as usual, Life has other plans. So… yeap 2014, already quite the adventure. Met a nice girl, available I think, but of course, like a beacon, there are issues to overcome. Big ones. One’s I have no control over. So excited. F&ck these resolutions. Go for the gold. I’m back! Sorry… I knew you were worried. I will let you all know how this adventure down the rabbit hole goes. I would be more specific, but yea, the internet is fickle and seems to get my ass in trouble. One love people! I was gone for .001 seconds, then a new years kiss, long night, cuddling, hand holding (wear gloves people), and BOOM, back bigger than before.

This is why I shouldn't venture outside my apartment. Because this happens.... who is excited for 2014?!?

I remember being new at consulting. In this job, you have to “hotel.” You get to work, log into a machine. MACHINES! Then you slowly type a bunch of crap in until Skynet assigns you a cubicle. The problem is… most people don’t pay attention to that $hit. As a noob, you follow the rules. Then when you get to work you realize someone jacked your cubicle for the day but you are too new to say a thing. Not anymore Son! First resolution done. Kicked that girl to the curb and utilized her tears as coffee creamer.

Not my resolution. Give me a reason to be excellent to you and we will see. Until then…. Give me tribute. Also... we have eerie similar hair... I'll let you guess which one. 

Next on the list. More human interaction. I know, I probably need to stop that type of human interaction, my freezer is getting full of heads, but I meant just in daily life. Like the bus. I ride the Muni to work. The meat market bus. Yet, everyone stares at the screens on their phone. Our bus is filled with beautiful boys and girls people. Stop swiping right on tinder and Look up. I am right here! My commute is like the Buckhead Church of public transportation.  Put down your screen, take a look around. Soak it all in. Make eye contact. Now stop. That was too long and you are creeping me out. Also overall, I think I will just stop caring. It’s champagne and vicuna coats from here on out. If the girl is too old for me? I don’t care. I rallied at the end of 2013, but didn’t reach the finish line. Seriously, these women looked younger to me, and I am a dashing jake gyllenhaal type… with excessive body hair. Whatever. Shut up. Maybe instead of not caring, I should make my resolution to find what these women do to stay beautiful. Seriously, they look like they wake up and drink embalming fluid*. Thanks to Windy for that reference.

Probably not the answer to youthfulness... Also, looks like my NYE kiss. Yeap. Winner, winner chicken dinner. More than you know. Always had a crush on this actress too, so double win. Triple win. Double down KFC style heart attack. Thug life. See you punks in 2014! Get excited, or scared.