Lent 2012: Make it Count

27 02 2012

Padlock your pantries, Catholics. Gorilla Glue your laptops shut. The Lenten season has officially begun. For the next 40 days we’ll cut the fat from our diets and the guilty pleasures from our everyday routines as we ignorantly convince ourselves that the sacrifice of not eating cupcakes for a few weeks even remotely absolves us for being shitty people. Jesus starved himself in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights and I’m getting night sweats about having to lay off the Mountain Dew.

My favorite part about Lent is hearing what other people choose to give up. You can learn a lot about a person by listening to what they’ll be abandoning for the next month and a half.  There are the people who get overly ambitious: TV, Internet, swearing (not fucking possible), and there are those who consciously opt for the easy way out. Last year my brother gave up strawberry pixy sticks. Punched his ticket to Hell.

I have no place to criticize when it comes to sticking with Lenten sacrifices. I have yet to go the entire 40 days without blatantly failing – and I rarely even come close. When I was a kid I’d always try and give up candy. Two hours after Ash Wednesday mass I’d be playing Chubby Bunny with Nutrageous bars under the dining room table. My track record with the whole meatless Friday thing is even more pathetic. Historically I’ve been known to realize it’s a Lenten Friday as I’m bulldozing a meat lover’s pizza or dumping a bag of Jack Links into my mouth. I’m the guy that brings Boston Market leftovers to a fish fry and still doesn’t get the hint.

So, if you’re still on the fence about what to give up this Lent, let TODM take the reins and offer a few friendly suggestions.

1. Stop using Chat Roulette.

Honestly, I don’t even know if there are still people doing this – but the fact that it was EVER popular is shameful enough. If I wanted to sift through live feeds of dudes jacking off I would have….just….searched for it on Google. Shit is creepier than Kevin Spacey and the Chupacabra combined.

It’s addicting for some people, though. Clicking from weiner to weiner to old dudes weiner to chick taking a dump is somehow captivating. So if that’s too ambitious for you, try giving up hashtag use outside of Twitter. “#hashtaggeryleadstodouchebaggery” is what I’m pretty sure I read on Warren Buffet’s LinkedIn.

2. Stop robbing the ‘Situation’ of Oscar nods.

I know Jersey Shore is a TV show, so not Oscar eligible, but barriers are meant to be broken.

What are Best Actor winners if not experts in the art of dramatic expression? Michael ‘The Sitch’ Sorrentino effortlessly makes Ron Artest and Coral from the Real World look like a couple of pussies. He strolls into the kitchen muttering a few controversial nuggets and pretty soon Ronnie’s upstairs taking Sammie’s bedframe through a woodchipper. Constantly plotting and scheming and stirring shit up – everything about him demands attention. After the episode where he pissed off JWoww until she punched him in the face, I literally went online and bought a pair of red Ed Hardy sweatpants. Look into your souls, people…did you truuuly enjoy ‘The Artist’? Rhetorical question. And by comparison, who DIDN’T tune in to watch Sitch headbutt a concrete wall…suffering brain damage in order to pump some entertainment back into the show. Selfless. Noble. Oscar-worthy.

 I also want to shed some light on how perfect it is that Sitch’s best friend’s name is ‘The Unit.’ Does he only hang out with guys who have nicknames inspired by John Grisham novels? I can’t imagine poker night with those guys…”Yo Obstacle, pass me one of those stogies that The Occurrence brought. I’m takin’ the Framework all in. And where the fuck is The Consequence, he still hasn’t paid up.”

 

I know bruh, it’s just not fair.

3. Refrain from buying those ‘Calvin peeing’ car stickers.

Wanna know why people think you’re a jagoff before even talking to you? Surprisingly it’s not the metal ballsack you have hanging from your hitchport….it’s the decal of Calvin whizzing on “My Ex Wife” written in block letters. Congratulations, you got the last laugh. Now crack another Steel Reserve and cut that alimony check!

 

4. Omit ‘Watch the Throne’ lyrics from your vocabulary.

As ‘cray’ as that shit may be, I think this has run its course.

5. No text messaging on weekend nights.

Bold, I know. Very bold. But you’ll thank me when you no longer have to explain the shaft-shots you mistakenly sent your uncle before dropping your phone into a urinal. These are the kind of sacrifices that really impress the Big Guy upstairs. You don’t think JC ever got hammed, carved something regrettable into a hunk of shale and gave it to some Galilee honies? He was human once too.

Peace be with you, TODM readers. Good luck.

-SR

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