Saturday, August 29, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Better ways Macbeth could have ended

-Captain Crunch sails in and beheads the jerk. Macbeth doesn’t even get the chance to lament in unbearably stilted verse at him over it. No, Crunch just sails right in and swings. As the audience mills out of the Globe Theatre, he can explain that as a cartoon mascot he was invented by a marketing firm, and thus was not of woman born.

-Eowyn rides in disguised as a Northumberland soldier and stabs Macbeth to death. She then collapses, infected by his evil, but is later restored to health by Gandalf’s knowledge of herbs.

-Lady Macbeth fucking kills him because they’re the only two developed characters in the fucking play and thus should probably interact in the fucking conclusion.

-The witches show back up and turn out to be realtors on the side who set this whole thing up to get the forests trimmed back. Those removed, their holdings suddenly have a great view of sunsets, the final selling point necessary to begin a timeshare community there, just a stone’s throw away from the new king’s home.

-In Act I, Scene III, when the title fucking character finally shows up, Macbeth and Banquo enter, Macbeth says, “So foul and fair a day I have not seen, it’s too much to bear, so I guess I’ll drink this battery acid.” He then chugs a bucket full of noxious chemicals, collapses, and attendants show the audience to their cars.

Friday, August 28, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: The Thirteenth Floor

Those floors are there. They were purchased in bulk by a misanthropic entrepreneur in 1834, who foresaw a time of high rises. Having to cross the country so often that he never knew what building he’d stay at, he gave a massive loan to the Federal Treasury and related companies, in return for an exclusive opportunity to purchase the thirteenth floor of every building that would ever be built. Loathing his fellow man, he made certain all elevators would skip his floor so that no children would come by to touch his rare art, or in the mid-20th century, his arcade machines. Whenever an arcade goes out of business, he buys every machine and has them shipped to one of his thousands of private floors. The quarter slots are ripped out to be played in his lonely and unlucky rooms, only occasionally heard by people on their way up to 14.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

10,000 Hits!

This week I reached 10,000 hits on the Bathroom Monologues. The counter was established a long time after the site opened, but it's still a cool milestone.

Thanks to all the visitors! I hope I've made it worth your while.

Also, don't forget the R.A.Q.!

Bathroom Monologue: Breaking Reel Ground

“I’m an innovative director. I break new ground. You know those dark, melancholy comedies that are too preoccupied to be funny? Well I make action movies too intense for fight scenes, and romances too deep to have relationships. I was going to do a bio-pic too real to be factually accurate, but someone beat me to it, and now the market is glutted with them. Take my word for it – in twenty years it will be avant garde to do what your audience expects you to do.”

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: Lance Armstrong, first man on the moon?

Yes, Lance Armstrong was the first man on the moon. He rode his Apollo Schwinn up a moon beam, something that was not thought possible previously, but only French cyclists and astronauts and tried it before. While beloved in America for this achievement, he is loathed in the French quarter of the Lake of Tranquility. Tragedy nearly struck on his return journey as he came down with cancer of the appendix, which is why all astronauts have to have that removed now. He inspired us to continue visiting space with his famous phrase, “It’s one small step for man, but you never forget how.”

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: With that Fish

"Terrifying incident today as both the Jesus Fish and the Darwin Fish were eaten by the Ursa Minor constellation. Onlookers said it was a case of annoying symbolism gone too far. Hindus upgrade to the Gandhi Whale for safety purposes."

Monday, August 24, 2009

R.A.Q. 2

It's that time of year when I have the excuse to ask,

"Have you seen my rack?"

It's actually "RAQ." I pronounce it that way because people make amusing faces.

Rarely Asked Questions is my birthday tradition at the Bathroom Monologues. Until September 2nd, I'm requesting all readers leave questions they dont normally ask anyone. Particle physics? 17th century politics? Why your mom snores? Why I write so many things about the end of the world? What your questions are, and whether they have anything to do with me, is up to you. I'll compile them and answer them all on September 4th - my birthday. That's how I celebrate. With my big RAQ.

Please leave your mysteries and queries in the Comments section of this post.

Bathroom Monologue: The Fox’s Dilemma

"I just heard of a famous essay about how everyone is either a hedgehog or a fox. It turned out the hedgehog is the creature with one all-consuming idea, while the fox has many little ideas. It was disappointing, as I thought hedgehogs were those folk whose needles drive everyone away, and foxes were those who sought out people every day to kill and eat. I longed to read this academic argument that the world consisted of shut-ins and serial killers. I longed for a theatrical adaptation, or better, a sports adaptation where each would wear team jerseys. You know, for the Foxes and the Hedgehogs. At the Superbowl of misanthropy, those who want everyone to go away and those who want everyone to die would line up and compete for yardage. A Buddhist monk emerges from his cave after seven weeks of meditation, and is promptly tackled by Fox linebacker Ed Gein. Though I guess hermits would really be more of a AA-league where you went to train for the Hedgehogs’ starting roster. If only that essay had been by a sports fan."

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Bathroom Monologue: “What's your gay fantasy?” –Somebody on the TV as I was walking out of the room

I sit back on my vibrating chair.

Eventually a guy comes in and hands me a Coke. Is he gay? I don’t know. He doesn’t say, and this fantasy society is so ambivalent about it that neither of us know the ticks or “tells” that would suggest an answer. Being my fantasy, regardless of whether or not he is gay, he leaves. That’s the duration of his existence in the fantasy, beyond possibly leaving some flattering comments about those Bathroom Monologues I wasn’t sure were good. He’s a great guy.

I set the vibrating chair up to MEDIUM and sip the Coke. The kinkiest details of the fantasy have to do with a short glass of shaved ice and the beverage never losing its carbonation.

Eventually a couple of centerfold-worthy lesbians wander in and make out in front of me for a while. Because even my fantasies are a little rational, I get bored a couple of minutes in and send them away. I tip well. They did it for free, and so there is some humor to do with the tip. My fantasies tend to have jokes in them.

On the way out, the pink-haired one asks what my straight fantasy is like.

I sip the Coke and reply, “Pretty similar to this, honestly."
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