Mitch Martinez arrested for Child Porn

Is it even Memorial Day Weekend if a kid you went to high school with didn’t get arrested for child porn?

QUINCY — A Weymouth man is facing an additional charge of child pornography possession after investigators say they found more explicit images of children in his online accounts.

Mitchell Martinez, 22, of 126 Lakehurst Ave., Weymouth, was originally arraigned on one count of child pornography in Quincy District Court on Jan. 31 after police say an anonymous tip from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children led investigators to images on Martinez’ electronic devices.

Around that same time, investigators served a search warrant on Dropbox, an online data storage company, seeking electronic records connected to an online account labeled with an alias traced back to Martinez.

Dropbox responded on Feb. 20, granting investigators access to an account where they said they found an additional 285 videos displaying explicit content.

“I viewed most of the videos, and in my training and experience, they meet the requirements of child pornography,” a State Police trooper wrote in the arrest report.

The documents provided by Dropbox proved the account was accessed through an internet protocol address traced to Martinez’s Lakehurst Avenue address, according to investigators.

Police sent the files to the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, which told investigators on March 20 that its child recognition and identification system had identified 48 video files and one additional file that contained known child victims.

Martinez was arraigned on the second charge of possession of child pornography on Wednesday. A judge imposed the same conditions that were imposed under the first charge, releasing Martinez on his promise to return to court on Aug. 8.

He has also been prohibited from contacting children under 18, leaving the state, using the internet and possessing pornographic material.

 

There are like 6 people who truly understand how funny of a story this is, but it’s still worth writing about. I know traditionally a child porn case isn’t exactly “haha land”, but if you went to high school with this kid like I did, it’s the best thing you’ve read in a long time. If you went to Weymouth High School between 2009 and 2013, this is the least shocking news ever. Mitch Martinez was always an absolute lunatic, it’s just nice to finally have it in writing. He was also one of those kids you weren’t sure if it was okay to make fun of, but now that it’s out that he has 285 child porn videos it’s fair to say he’s lost that immunity.

First off, 285 porn videos is an impressive collection. Pedophilia aside, at least he had a hobby. I honestly wish I was passionate about something as much as Mitch Martinez is passionate about child porn. If he could have applied that to, I don’t know, absolutely anything else in this world, he’d be in much better shape. At least legally speaking.

There’s no way he even watched all those videos. 285 is a lot of content, maybe too much. I wonder if he went the binge watching route, or was more of a pick and choose type guy? You think he had the “Are you still watching” feature. “Hey Mitch are you still watching or you finally in prison?”

I feel like it’s like me and The Office. Yea, there are 9 seasons, but I’ll watch season 4 three times in a row before I watch season 8 once. My point is it’s hard not to play favorites when you’re dealing with that much content.

You don’t just casually collect 285 porn videos, that takes some serious time and research. I don’t have 285 of anything. Dollars, brain cells, nothing. The organizational skills needed alone are impressive.

It’s also hilarious that he used Dropbox. I think that’s when you know you have a porn problem, right? When you’re using a business tool used to share documents and collaborate on projects to organize your videos of little kids. Personally I think he would have been better off with Google Docs (it’s more intuitive), but that’s probably beside the point. At least he now has a transferable skill. “Hey Mitch I see you’re proficient in Dropbox, how’d you learn to use that software? Also why do you want to work at this daycare? The benefits, you say? What benefits exactly?” 

And how about the cop watching every single video. You think after watching the first 10 seconds of the first video he’d have enough to make a case, but nope, he felt it was necessary to watch hours of footage before coming to a conclusion. You also probably brag about your “training and experience” with child porn. You know how much training and experience I have with child porn? None. And that’s one of the few things I have going for me.

Lastly, I feel like the punishment should have been a bit more severe. Basically all that happened was that he got his phone taken away. It doesn’t really fit the crime. You shouldn’t be punished for child porn possession the same way I was punished for bringing home a bad report card in 7th grade.

So yea, Weymouth John, Mitch Martinez, Me. Lot of talent coming out of the 781 recently. I just hope he comes to the five year reunion. Then again, while everyone else is going back in time, letting the kids inside of us loose, he’ll probably be too busy letting loose inside a kid.

 

Fucking Jellybean (if you know, you know)

 

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I went to the Sixth floor museum in Dallas so here’s a recap of the JFK Assassination

While in Dallas yesterday (Mr. Worldwide), I decided to check out the 6th Floor Museum, which is a museum dedicated to the JFK assassination. It’s on the sixth floor of the Texas Book Depository, which is where Lee Harvey Oswald sniped out JFK while riding in his drop top whip.

The museum is conveniently located right next to the Holocaust memorial, making it the most depressing square mile in the United States. Who was the city planner with the fucked up sense of humor who signed off on that? “Hey you know that street where JFK got murdered? Let’s put a Holocaust memorial 500 feet to the right.” There’s no way that’s good for property value.
I went to the museum in hopes of getting content so I could write a funny post, but the vibes there were much more serious than expected. You’d think people would lighten up about the whole thing 50 years later, but apparently not. There was no photography allowed, and everyone there was dead silent. Honestly, it was a pretty powerful and sad exhibit, and any attempt to make light of it could be seen as ill-mannered and over the line. Sounds like a challenge. Here we go.

First off Jackie Kennedy was thiccc as shit. Forget the bullet, that ass alone would make your head explode. If we’re talking motorcades let’s not leave out the one in her pants. She puts the ass in assassination. Twice.

Anyway, the exhibit started with a background of JFK’s life and career, as he defied the odds, coming from the modest beginnings that come with being a Kennedy, and fought his way into Harvard through strictly academic merit and not his father’s influence. All leading to him becoming the youngest President in history. JFK’s most prominent moment in office was defusing The Cuban Missile Crisis, where the U.S. and the Soviet Union went sixteen days without setting their rockets off. Most historians call this situation the Cold War, while most men call it marriage.

Then we have Lee Harvey Oswald, who was an absolute wild card. He got into an argument with his wife the night before the assassination, and instead of going for a walk or something to cool down, he was just like “I’m going to shoot the president”. Everyone deals with stress differently, I guess.

So he went to work the next day at the Texas Book Depository, which sounds like the worst job ever. Forget the President, if I had to work there the first person I’d shoot is myself. Anyway, he goes to work, casually carrying a rifle, and heads up to the sixth floor where there are a bunch of boxes full of books. He spends the morning creating a fort out of the boxes, which is impressive if you’re 12, and creates a sniper’s bunker. The fort is still actually on display, and it’s honestly the least impressive fort I’ve ever seen. Like if it was a game of Fortnight he wouldn’t last a single storm.

By now he’s been up there for a while, so obviously his job wasn’t too important since no one noticed he was missing the entire time. Anyway, the motorcade comes around and Oswald takes out JFK first try. Now say what you want about Lee Harvey Oswald, but when you see the window in person, and see how far away it was from the car, you have to admit it was a hell of a shot. I’m not encouraging that behavior, but I’m just saying for a guy who was a glorified librarian, he was quite a sharpshooter.

Lee Harvey Oswald is the perfect example of if you give you’re kid three names, he’s inevitably going to grow up to be an asshole. Don’t believe me, ask John Wilkes Booth’s or Mark David Chapman’s parents. Yea I guess death really does come in threes.

One shot pierced the side of JFK’s head, which is ironic, since the man who lived his whole life with a side piece died with a side piece. Much like Jackie’s physique, it came full circle.

So spoiler alert, JFK dies. His body is flown back to DC with Jackie, and his VP Lydon B Johnson swears into office, a move I sort of have beef with. How come when Lyndon B Johnson swore on an airplane, he became President, but when I tell the baby next to me to shut the fuck up I get yelled by the flight attendant? Probably because I wasn’t wearing pants.

Oswald is caught and arrested, and he’s brought to jail. There, Jack Ruby, who is somehow even more of a wild card than Oswald, shoots Oswald on live television, which by my calculations was technically the first reality show.

Then people find out that Ruby had mob connections in Chicago, so the conspiracy theories start rolling in. Some say everything was orchestrated by the mafia, and Ruby was hired to kill Oswald. Some say it was the Russians, since Oswald spent time in Russia. Which by the way, if it was the Russians, they have really gone soft since. They went from assassinating our President, to sort of maybe messing with my Facebook feed.

Overall, a pretty cool exhibit that you should check out if you have the chance. It’s interesting to see how far we’ve come from shooting the president to Tweeting him. I guess Drake was right, trigger fingers do turn to Twitter fingers.

XO Tour Life: Denver has the best aquarium in the history of water

With my two nights in Denver coming to a close, it’s time for a recap:

First off, the thing about the air being different here is 100% true. Well, honestly I have no clue, but it really comes in handy when it comes to excuses, I can blame everything on the altitude level. Oh why am I out of breathe after walking up a single flight of stairs? The altitude. Why did I just cramp up after eating a Burger King 10 piece nuggets meal? The altitude, obviously. Then again, maybe if we focused on ATTITUDE rather than ALTITUDE, we’d be better off as a country. SMH, typical millennials only caring about how high they are. The only elevation I care about is my climb to the top.

Anyway, Denver is quite possibly the most average place in the world. For a major city, I’ve seen 14 people outside so far. 3 were homeless. 2 were probably figments of my imagination. I’ve been alone for a while now and my mind is going to some pretty weird places.

There was also a Harry Potter convention here this weekend, so thank God I packed my cape. It also explains why most of the girls here look like Doby. Regardless, I had to do standup in front of a sea of Griffendor scarves, and apparently “you guys know it’s not real, right?” is not a strong opener.

Yesterday I had nothing to do all day, so naturally, as most 22 year old’s would do, I went to the aquarium by myself. Full disclosure, plan A was to go to the amusement park, but tickets were too expensive, and I couldn’t ride the coolest rollercoaster because I’m too tall (thiccc). Actually Plan A was to have a job writing for Conan or SNL by now, but I digress.

After getting turned down at the amusement park, I thought I’d just go home, but then I remembered Mary and Joseph were turned down when they went to the (Holiday) Inn, and look what happened there. I decided to keep on walking, and eventually came upon the Denver Aquarium.

Immediately upon arriving I knew that the Denver Aquarium was the place to be. Everyone who was anyone was there (mostly under the age of 11). There was a line out the door, and I knew I had to wait it out. Eventually, I purchased my ticket and walked in to what I would later discover to be a life changing experience.

The minute I stepped foot inside the Otters were already on their A game.

 

That’s pure showmanship you simply cannot teach. Just another day in the office for these guys. Bringing the heat fastball after fastball. They’re also cute as shit. They just had it.

Then there was this big tank full of God knows what. Just a smorgasbord of marine life. Clearly the Denver Aquarium knows a thing or two about diversity. If they can get along then why can’t we? Classic me tying fish in with underlying social issues. It’s called being woke.

 

Also that fish at the end was 100% dead. Circle (jerk) of life, I guess.

So far run of the mill fish factory, right? That’s what I thought, til I turned the corner and was greeted by this fucking tiger

 

Putting a tiger in an aquarium is like bringing a roadside bomb to a knife fight, it doesn’t make logical sense but I’m glad it happened. It was just refreshing for me to not be the only alpha in a room for once. Finally I find worthy competition. Sadly, the cowards working there refused to let me hop in for a cage match. Classic champion fighter being afraid to lose his belt type situation.

There we a shit ton more fish, but I didn’t take anymore pictures, but I assume you all know what fish look like.

The exhibit concluded with a sting ray petting zoo, which ended being weirdly erotic. There were signs everywhere that read (word for word) “When petting the stingrays, please use two fingers and gently stroke”. Sounds more like foreplay, but whatever.

Needless to say I got to work and starting fingerbanging every stingray in sight.

 

You ever been knuckle deep in marine life? Some little kid next to me was like “mom my fingers smell like fish”.  Welcome to manhood, young man.

Then of course I had to take it too far and started with the shocker technique.

 

I’m also still not sure the weirdness of filming myself fingering fish in front of a bunch of children and their parents was worth it, but I’ll do anything at content.

Admission to the aquarium came with a free 4D movie pass, so obviously I had to hit a screening of Storks 4D.

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Once again, it was me and a bunch of little kids, so I opted to sit in the back so it wouldn’t be weird. With that I learned that sitting in the back of a movie theater looking over a bunch of children is just as creepy.

 

 

And let me tell you, Storks 4D might be the most important film in American culture since Paul Blart Mall Cop. This film had everything. It was a carnival of emotion. The plot moved quickly, the character arcs were deep and well developed, and the avante garde animation mixed the melodramatic tones of the filmed created an absolute buffet of feeling.

It made me laugh, cry, but most importantly, think. Like hey, maybe the stork we’re all searching for is actually inside of us. Time to pull out. Did the stork deliver the baby, or did the stork deliver us? The only afterbirth that came with this film was inspiration. It was a story about cutting cords, but I swore someone was cutting onions. Great films will do that to you.

So yea that was my experience in Denver. Pretty standard stuff. I also did another show at a bike bar last night. Not a biker bar, a bicycle bar. Weird scene but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Flying to Dallas tonight.

It’s time to Make Airports Great Again

When people see airports, they probably see empty, soulless buildings, filled with people who are slowly dying as every Cinnabon and minute passes. Not me. All I see is potential.

As of right now airports stinks. The people who work there are so noticeably depressed that it immediately ruins my day. The seats are perfectly uncomfortable, and angled at the level where it’s impossible to get comfortable. And that outlet you so desperately need is always conveniently placed on a wall right next to the bathroom exit and near nothing else.

They do have bars that serve alcohol and food, but there’s also that little catch where the cost of a Coors Light is comparable to the GDP of a small Central American Country. Something’s not right when a bacon cheeseburger costs more than my Spirit flight across the country. Then again, halfway through any Spirit flight everyone has that same thought, wondering if the suicidal feelings you’ve been having for the last two hours were worth the $60 ticket.

I also hate how the excuse for every inconvenience is the phrase “well ever since 9/11…”. Do I really need to put my laptop in a separate box? “Well ever since 9/11…”. Hey can we have more than one security line open at this major international airport? “Well ever since 9/11….” Can I please have the entire can of Sprite instead of you pouring a shot if it into that small plastic cup full of ice? “Well ever since 9/11….”.

What pisses me off is that it’s a foolproof answer. You can’t argue against 9/11. You can’t be the asshole downplaying it. It’s so genius I have to respect it.

Anyway, here’s my guide to fixing airports:

You’re allowed to punch one airport employee in the face per month 

This seems fair and logical. One punch per month, or every 6 flights if you’re a frequent flyer. No nut shots. No redos. Fist open if the worker’s female. This is a gentleman’s clause. Also if you whiff on the punch the worker can rebuttal, because if you miss from that distance you deserve it. Brass knuckles are discourage, but if you somehow get them through security then that’s a grey area. I don’t want to play God.

Gun Range

Flight delayed? Head over to the gun range and unload a clip. There’s an argument being made that there’s no place in society for assault rifles, but I think a pretty strong case can be made for some airport terminals I’ve spent time in.

Fun Bars

As I said earlier, the only bars in airports are overpriced and boring as heck. All I’m saying is would it kill you to put a Ned Devine’s inside Logan? Coogans?

Hot Tubs

Whenever I’m waiting for a flight, it’s damn near impossible for me to get comfortable. The solution? Hot tubs. Then again, hot tubs could get pretty dangerous. Your flight gets delayed, and all of sudden you’re two hours deep in the hot tub. Sure, you know you should get out, but the jets are on full blast and you just don’t have the will to leave. Next thing you know, you’re blood pressure drops and you pass out right next to a Hudson News.

Gambling

With gambling being legal now, this is an absolute no brainer. And I’m not talking about sports gambling either. No. I want to look at a couple traveling with their three kids to Disney World for the first time and put money down on their marriage. I want to see a TSA officer and bet on what happened that made him fail out of the police academy. I want to wager money on what went wrong in someone’s life that they work at a Hudson News. Who decides to work in food service at an airport. There are a billion Dunkin Donuts to work at, and you chose the one where you have to pass security clearance every shift? Imagine having to commute to the airport everyday just to make Coolattas? I digress, but with good reason.

Security pat downs come with happy endings

I’ve been by myself on the road for what seems like a year now, and I hit peak loneliness when I was disappointed I didn’t get a security pat down before my last flight. I was just craving some human interaction. I might stick a metal plate in my pants next time I’m in an airport just for the physical touch. “Sir we’re going to have to bring you over for a physical inspection.” “lol and then what? ;)”.

 

XO Tour Life: Portland Recap

After spending two nights in the Pathicccic West Coast, I can only summarize Portland as one thing: the weirdest fucking place I’ve ever been.

First let’s start with the people. Whatever happened to being born with a hair color and sticking to it? What happened to just looking in the mirror and being like “that’ll do”? Apparently that line of thinking is quite foreign in Portland, because absolutely everyone had their hair dyed. And it wasn’t even just the usual art students. Grown men and women were sporting color wheels on their heads. Imagine growing up with a dad with purple hair? I’d rather grow up with two dads with normal hair. It’d be less gay.

Also, the line between hipsters and homeless is about as skinny as their leather pants in Portland. I didn’t think it was possible to have such a high fashion IQ while also shitting in public. Every time I saw a pair of ripped jeans I wondered to myself, “did he buy those ripped, or is it just the wear and tear that comes from blowing dudes for crack?”. I still don’t have answers, and I’m not sure I want any.

The homeless were also the most well put together hobos I’ve ever seen. I swear I saw one moisturizing at one point. They also all had their own dogs, who were all well fed and taken care of. It was a tough blow to the ego when I would walk past a homeless dog and immediately know that it had a better diet than I did.

Secondly, I’ve never seen a place with more coffee shops. With Portland being so progressive with LGBTXOG2GTTYL rights, you’d think they’d spend less time crushing beans and more time flicking them.

Also apparently Portland is the craft beer capital of the world, and I took advantage of that, by exclusively drinking Coors Light and PBR’s the entire time. Gotta stay true to myself. Not going to change my preferred choice of alcoholism just because I’m in a different location. It’s called integrity.

Anyway, now I’m in LA, so time to turn my narcissism into overdrive.

 

I went to the Church of Scientology today and it’s definitely not a cult

Last night on my walk home from my dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings, I passed the Portland Church of Scientology, and immediately knew what I was going to do with my day. So I woke up this morning and found my way back to this intriguing place. I always knew Scientology was a crazy religion, but I was not prepared for what I experienced today.

First, I walk into the building, and am greeted at the front desk by a man and a woman. The fact that a church has a receptionist is red flag number one. The receptionist was around my age, and you have to wonder what went wrong in her life for her to be in that position. Like is that her full time job? Or did she get into Scientology, and then get stuck being the receptionist? Both are equally sad.

Also everyone there was dressed very Mormonish in white shirts and black ties, but some of the guys were also wearing these weird vests like the one’s you wear to prom. I call it “Amish Flare”.

Anyway, I’m greeted by this woman, and she asks if I’m interested in a free tour that’s followed by a personality test. Obviously I am. “Tour” ends up being a generous term for this experience, because it basically consisted of me walking around this weird showroom made up of different stations that talk about the different aspects of Scientology.

After walking through the stations, I still have no clue what Scientology is, and I don’t think the Scientologists do either.

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“Scientology is the study of knowledge” is such a bullshit phrase I have no choice but to respect it. It makes zero sense. Knowledge is something someone already knows, so how do you study that? Knowledge of what? My head hurts just trying to figure this out, and I love it. Fake it til you make it, I guess.

A big part of Scientology is about purification of the body, AKA, their sales pitch to recovering drug addicts. This was one of my favorite signs. I loved how they say there are 116 toxins, and then go on to list 6.

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This is all backed up by absolutely zero science. I like how it’s just “drugs”. Just toss them all under one umbrella. From Advil to crack cocaine. Drugs. But then they feel the need to specify nicotine, which is also a drug.

Then of course you gotta watch out for “chemicals”. Which chemicals? All of them, I guess. Just keep away from objects with chemical makeups, which I think is….Everything?

This was the only explanation of this purification process:

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Also not sure what the waterfall has to do with all of this, but sure.

Then they broke the different parts of a man:

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Then there are the dynamics of existence, each it’s own level that needs to be unlocked (with easy one time payments). Eventually, if you pay enough, I guess you reach your supreme being.

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But basically, these are all sale pitches for this guy’s books:

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Which can all once again be purchased at the front desk. The place was basically a Barnes and Noble’s for cults.

So pretty run of the mill bullshit money making scheme, right? Wrong, because it got much, much weirder.

I finish looking around, then I’m asked if I want to take part in an evaluation, and of course I do.

They bring me over to a desk, and I’m greeted by this machine. Apparently, it’s supposed to measure my current mental state and level of stress.

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I put a hand on each cylinder, and then the scale lands on an arbitrary number. It’s literally the same machine from Always Sunny when Dee gets into the pyramid scheme:

Like the exact same thing. I get my “stress level” measured, and it was 70. I’m not making this up. It is literally the exact same as an episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia. No units. No reference chart. Just “70”. Which was apparently bad, because I was then asked to take a follow up personality test.

I agree to take the personality test, which is conveniently a 200 question multiple choice test. At this point I’ve been here for like an hour, and I’m starting to get some kidnapping vibes. This is where things started to get creepy.

The test was basically the same five questions being asked over and over again in different ways. The questions are all written in a way that makes you answer them in a certain way. Things like “on a scale of 9-10, how much do you hate yourself?” Not that exactly, but those types of questions where you’re forced to answer negatively.

I finally finish the test, and hand it in to be graded. I’m called over to this cubicle where I meet with another guy to go over the results.

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Once again, everything is measured in arbitrary numbers.

So I sit down with this guy to go over the results, and this is when shit gets really, really, culty. He starts going through my results category by category, and won’t move on from each until I agree with the results. He also keeps on saying “these results are based on what you think about yourself”.

Basically it was 20 minutes of this guy trying to get me to hate myself enough to sign up for this religion. Which is sort of fucked. But then also he would once in a while compliment me in a weird way. He said how I was really intelligent, but I’ll probably fail at everything I do without his help. Which, once again, a wild statement to make towards someone you just met.

He asked me if I was interested in taking the next step, but I said I had to get going, even though ten minutes earlier I definitely told him I had nothing to do all day. I expected him to make a last effort pitch, but to my surprise, he pulled a used car salesman move and let me walk. Maybe he’s smarter than I originally thought. I put down all fake info so that sucks for him.

Overall, despite Scientology being an obvious money making cult/pyramid scheme, I can see how people can get pulled in. The people there are salesmen, and they know what they’re doing. They profit off of vulnerable people, and convince people that they suck at life and this is the only way to help.

So yea, Scientology is pretty fucked, and if you take part in recruiting people into it you should kill yourself.

Also it’s a massive tax shelter.

Also I still might sign up.

My complete guide to air travel

After a 6am flight to Minnesota, a two hour layover in St. Paul, and then a flight across the rest of the country, I’ve finally arrived in Portland, Oregon. Throughout that never ending experience, I’m somewhat certain I’ve mastered everything one needs to know about air travel. I’m basically Amelia Earheart, except with GPS. Charles Lindbergh, but better with kids.

Anyway here are some (just the) tips for flying:

Security

Security at airports is always a bitch, but so was 9/11, so I’d much rather get a half chub while getting patted down than have to deal with Mohammed’s box cutter. You really think I can disarm a terrorist on a plane? Not with that legroom. If I’m in the exit row, maybe, but I’m not at the point financially yet where I can be shelling out that $9 seat upgrade. Regardless, when it comes to getting through security, I have a foolproof system.

Everyone knows my dancer legs are disproportional to my salsa hips, so that means I can’t wear pants without a belt. Naturally, the part where I have to take my belt off for security always proves problematic. Thankfully, I’ve found a shortcut around that issue, and in lieu of a belt, I just duck tape the waist of my pants to my body. The beauty of it is that it also kills two birds with one stone, as I also get a bikini wax every time I get undressed. Talk about a summer body.

My next step is to somehow get a pacemaker installed, so I can avoid having to go through the x-ray machine. The issue is I’m at peak physical fitness, so I doubt I could find an excuse to get a pacemaker. Because of that, I think the move is to just insert a FitBit up my ass. Call it a ThicccBit. Same thing. (By now you probably realize I have no clue what a pacemaker is)

Waiting in the terminal 

I’m #TeamCarryOn, so naturally, one of my biggest issues is having to lug around my bags whenever I want to go to a Hudson News. It’s frowned upon to leave your bags unattended, but when I already have the weight of the world on my shoulders, sometimes my backpack becomes too much.

As a result, sometimes I have no choice but to leave my bag alone for a couple minutes. The key to doing this, is to leave your luggage unattended for as little time as possible. In order to do this, what I do, is throw my backpack on the ground, run away from it as fast as a I can, and cover my ears due to the air pressure inside the airport. Sometimes I recite a prayer out loud while doing this, just to let people around me know that I’m a man of God and that they have nothing to worry about.

Dealing with anxiety while flying

On a scale of “1 to Talking to a hot girl” my flight anxiety clocks in at about a 5. I really don’t get that nervous, but everyone has their “this is it” moment time to time while flying. One the most common times I find myself getting anxious while flying is during times of turbulence. Whenever I experience turbulence, I just pretend that I’m inside a massive vibrator. It’s soothing and erotic at the same time, much like the ball pit at a McDonald’s Playplace.

Picking up your luggage at the baggage claim

As I said earlier, I exclusively bring carry-on bags, but I still don’t like to feel left out at the baggage claim. I learned from a young age never to say to to a carousal. That’s why I like to check in an empty dog cage, so when the luggage starts coming out at the baggage claim, I grab the empty cage, and start freaking out, asking people if they’ve seen my kid because I swear he was in the cage when I first dropped it off.

So that’s all you really need to know to have a great flight next time you travel. Anyway, I’m in Portland for the next two days, and I’m working a collective 20 minutes during that, so if anyone has any ideas on what I should do with my time let me know.