Dude, Where’s My Car?

Uncle The Hussein Philosophizes. Plus, Jennifer Garner is stupid hot.

Okay, I know where my car is, and this post isn’t gonna be about the movie, but I find that the hardest thing about these posts are getting past the “Cool headline/sub-headline” and “picture to use under the cool headline and above the sub-headline” parts. Therefore, since “Dude, Where’s My Car?” is currently paused (dvr ftw) on the television macheeng, I thought I’d just go with it.


It’s Go Time.

So it’s another Sunday update, really it’s the only day I have to rest–fitting, since it is a day of rest. Working in corporate America is a lot like being back in school–work five days a week, make some friends, some bosses are like cool teachers, some bosses are like mean or indifferent teachers, some coworkers I already wanna smack upside the head, and there are girls I work with that “…make me feel all funny, like when I used to climb the ropes in gym class.” So, running with the school theme, Sundays whilst employed in corporate land USA are just like Sundays back in school–short. I mean, sure, they’re a day off, but they might as well have a Penn Station-sized countdown clock announcing how much time you have left before you have to start winding down to be able to fall asleep with enough sleep time scheduled to wake up Monday and not wish death upon everyone and everything.

So there’s that.


My job at Just Puppies, Man. Cool? is going mostly well. This week saw a new system (fourth in four weeks! TACO BELL! TACO BELL! TACO BELL!–ehhh, don’t think too much about the chant, just chant away) be implemented, and I, for one, think it’s complete rubbish. Still, I’m doing all I kind to be a rock star–and one of the managers has said to my face that he thinks I’m doing a good job, and so far the temp agency (aerotek!) hasn’t heard any complaints about me. Frankly, I think any complaining about me would be the bullshit of all bullshits (yes “Fourty Year Old Virgin”) because I bust my ass in there like you wouldn’t believe. I’m a dreamer, and a ponderer, and a twitter addict (twitter.com/reythehussein), but when it comes down to getting work at work done, I motherfucking work. Sure, I was lazy in the first 4 years of my 20s at work, but since then I’ve developed a work ethic that I’m extremely proud of. Only thing is, I don’t yammer on about it (except for right now, of course) because people that only talk about work are the 3rd most annoying people on the planet, right past engaged couples and loan officers. (no shots at engaged couples, massive BULLET! BULLET! shots at loan officers).

So work is going well, and I just hope I can impress people enough to see my temp assignment go the distance (4 months–and yes theme to “Hercules” by Michael Bolton), if not longer, if not resulting in an actual hire from the Puppy inc.

Oh, and that’s “puppy” as in the young dog sense, not “puppy” in the Jerry “The King” Lawler sense. (cuz that’d mean “boobs”)


Aside from the work boogie, life is pretty okay. I find that I’m content and optimistic more often than not. I’ve had a good weekend so far, and as God is wont to do from time to time, He’s reminded me that I have more friends than just The Guys. It’s nice to reconnect with old friends, and it’s nice that those friends happen to be easy on the eyes. That’s not to imply romance or anything like that, but I’m single and I live with Pop Dukes and my dog, F.R.E.D., so getting to hang with the llllladies is sooo nice.

Thing is tho’, it’s not just that they smell good and are easy on the eyes. I find myself much more enjoying the company of the girls I know rather than the guys I know. Don’t get me wrong, my guys are my family even if I’m the only one they’re related to (take your time with it (c) Joe Budden), but I’m discovering that:

1- The Guys (maybe all guys, but we’ll go with mine) tend to be very content in where they are right now. Mind you, this could be because they’re legitimately enjoying what they’ve accomplished and who they’re with and all that, but part of me notices that with their general caveman ass ni**a “manliness” nonsense and somewhat static lifestyles, maybe they’ve gotten comfortable–in the bad way. I think maybe they go, “Okay, I’m good here. Now I’ll just stay in a holding pattern–hit pause–and stick with exactly who I’m with and what I’m doing until I’m old enough to retire, and then I’ll just sorta die.” For ol’ Dr. Beardhussein, that just doesn’t work.

2- The girls I know–taken, single, married, engaged, career’d, school, or just gettin’ byyyyyy–still ponder. They still dream. They still look at the future and don’t have their hand on the pause button. They don’t have it on the “JUST FUCKING GET HERE ALREADY!” fast forward button. They don’t have a manicured nail all set to hit the rewind button to remember way back when. No sir. The girls I know–crazy, normal, large breasted, or nice arse’d–seemingly all have their hand on the What’s Coming Up (yeah they do! wooo!–but seriously…) Next button. You know, the little guide button that says what’s coming up later on today, or tomorrow, or even further on the ol’ schedule. That’s what I dig about girls. As long as it’s not taken to an irrational, unsettling, bonkers extreme, I like the fact that–even if they’re content with who they are, what they do, and with whom they’re with–they still keep their eyes on the horizon. Girls aren’t afraid to daydream and imagine how they can make their lives better. They aren’t afraid to discuss their feeling and emotions, and as Master Yoda once said, “Always emotion, the future is.”

So–now that the two part list is over–if you’ve been reading this, or some of the more wistful tweets, or if you’re someone that has kept up with my myspace blog (still no myspace or facebook or baking for me until Easter Sunday), you know that I’m still searching for whatever it is I feel I’m missing from my own life.

I can relate to girls pondering and planning and hoping and wishing and dreaming because, duhsville, my life isn’t set yet. I don’t have a career (yet?) or a relationship (yet?), and when I look down the road I see a few hundred feet of pavement right before the road curves off into Parts Unknown (yes jobber wrestlers).

It might not be fair to say that The Guys have thrown in the towel, especially since I’m not in a place where they currently reside. I’m still figuring things out, I’m still trying to catch up to them. Plus, I totally reserve the right to end up looking like a total hypocrite and becoming one of the annoying-ass “Finish Line” people (no athletic apparel chain) I was just complaining about.

Until then, let me be mocked for my love of girly stuff–good conversation, comfortable clothes, alcoholic beverages that don’t taste like they were cold-filtered through one of my Workin’ At Target socks, romantic comedies, and daydreaming.

It might not be manly or whatever the fuck, but I can at least take solace in the fact that I continually look to improve myself spiritually, emotionally, and mentally.

Cuz seriously, fuck being a static “manly” guy dribbling out the clock. It’s just dumb.


Call Reynolds, Cuz it’s a Wrap.

Alright kids, I’m done for today. Judging by the lack of comments, I’m either writing this for the benefit of me and me alone, or I’m not kicking stuff worth commenting on. But! To those who are still reading this and keeping up with me, I sincerely appreciate it. I might never make this site what I wanted it to be, but I do hope it is (or soon becomes) exactly what it’s supposed to be.

Just my thoughts.

After all…

…It ain’t that serious.


As always, comments, critiques, questions, and reasons why Chester is far superior to Jesse can be left below in the Christopher Wallace-Dr. Donda West Memorial Comments Section.

Thanks for checking in,


PS–And for no other reason than I like looking at pictures of her, here’s a bonus pic of Jennifer Garner.

PSS–And another one. Wanna make something of it?

3 Responses to “Dude, Where’s My Car?”

  1. MK Says:

    That girl has too much jawline. Her head always makes me think of cavemen for some reason. I’m with you on “manly” drinks, I hate whiskey and rye and scotch and all that crap, I’m always way happier drinking some fruity-ass “girl” drink that tastes good than forcing down something that “men” deem acceptable. Nice post Rey.

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