This blog has moved to okayguy.com

It was only a matter of time before I said to myself, “Man, I’d sure love to learn how to write and code CSS right now!”

Well, that’s precisely what I’ve been doing over the past 48 hours or so, and what resulted was a much more dynamic and user-friendly site to house my oh-so-dynamic buffoonery: http://okayguy.com.

Thus, this unceremoniously marks the final post to Underemployed. But not to worry: I’ve imported all of the posts from this blog to okayguy.com and the layout is so similar, you’ll hardly notice the difference.

Plus, the new site will allow you to share the upcoming “Country Cat: A Ballad in B minor” much easier on Twitter and Facebook. What more could you ask for?!?

Thanks for reading and I hope you follow me over to the new site.

–Justin

Things I’m giving up for Lent

Every year, I’m asked the same question by friends who should know me better:

“What are you giving up for lent?”

I was raised Southern Baptist, so admittedly, I find the whole idea of giving up something I derive pleasure from for 40 days as an homage to the suffering of Jesus, a little on the soft side. After all, no one represses a lifetime of “worldly” pleasures like the Southern Baptists. (Except casseroles, of course. Those people are crazy for casseroles.)

Anyway, my answer is usually something most would consider off-putting:

“Peeing in the shower while my wife is in there.”

“Bow-hunting alley cats.”

…or the ever favorite,

“Stalking you.”

But not this year. Being married to a Catholic, I’ve decided to embrace the idea of giving up a few things I enjoy doing for the next 40 days as a way to better myself. So without further adieu, below is a list of things I’m going to try to give up for Lent. I’ll let you know how it’s going in a week or so.

1. Listening to so much Stacy Q.
2. Drinking flat pop (or soda or Coke or whatever the hell you call it).
3. Being offended when people don’t know who “J-Bird” is.
4. Referring to myself as “J-Bird.”
5. Eagerly telling black people about my New Year’s resolution to make more black friends.
6. Lying to my wife about how late I sleep in each morning.
7. Acting like I understand a word the lady at Dunkin Donuts is saying.
8. Making small talk with the lady at Dunkin Donuts.
9. Using the word “pianist” in everyday conversation just to make myself laugh.
10. Complaining about the price of my $4 High Life.
11. Going to bars where High Life costs $4.
12. Flossing.

What are you giving up for lent?

Letters to the Tax Man

Being self-employed, I owe the IRS money every year. It’s one of the very few downsides to not having to deal with an incompetent boss on a daily basis.

But like the old saying goes, “Nothing in life is certain but me blowing my nose in the shower and using the same knife for the jelly as I do for the peanut butter, even though my wife has asked me countless times not to do either. Oh, and morning boners and taxes, too. Those are also fairly certain.”

After the initial shock of seeing how much I owe each year wears off, I’m typically okay with the giant check (or, 99.9% of the time, several small checks) I have to write, because as the greatest movie ever made starring marionettes put it:

Freedom isn’t free,
It costs folks like you and me,
And if we don’t all chip in,
We’ll never pay that bill.
Freedom isn’t free,
No, there’s a hefty fuckin’ fee.
And if you don’t throw in your buck ‘o five,
Who will?

Pure poetry, isn’t it? Well, for more than 1.4 million people this year, probably not. That’s because according to a report on CNN.com, that’s how many people were audited last year and even more audits are expected this year.

I'll bill you for your letter once I know how much I owe the government.

Not good. What if you’re one of the unlucky millions audited this year and it turns out you made one tiny mistake on your taxes and you now owe the government some scratch? Well, I might be math and financial common sense-challenged, but I think I can help. After all, I did spend two weeks right out of college working for American Express Financial Advisors.

While I’ve never been audited, I am an expert in owing Uncle Sam money and thus, I’ve become quite good at writing letters requesting to be put on a payment plan. Because, let’s be honest, who actually plans ahead to be able to pay the taxes they owe all at once? (Smart people and people who don’t have mountains of credit card debt, that’s who.)

Typically, the process goes like this: you owe taxes that you can’t pay in full. No problem. Just file your taxes and include a letter stating your need to go on a payment plan. They’ll send you the forms and viola! You can sit back, relax and comfortably pay the government your unpaid taxes (plus penalty and interest) over the course of the next year, where you’ll likely write your last check just in time for the 2010 tax season!

Or…and I’m just spit-balling here, you could pay me to write a letter so pathetic and so riddled with spelling and grammatical errors for you, that the agent assigned to your account can’t help but feel sorry for you, and subsequently wipes away all the unpaid taxes you owe in a Haley Joel Osment fit of paying it forward.

Will it work? Probably not! Is it a risky and foolish way to spend your money? A million times yes!! Will I guarantee results or provide a refund of any kind? Hell no! Will the letter be put up on a bulletin board and ridiculed relentlessly before leading to a hearty and spirited discussion about the state of the education system in the United States? Sure! But isn’t that the exciting thing about being on the ground floor of something?

Now, the painstaking amount of time I put into writing your letter using my proprietary method doesn’t come cheap. I’ll take a look at each person’s situation and charge on a case-by-case basis. But in general, you can expect a bill after I frantically file my taxes the night of April 15 and find out how much I owe.

So what do you say, Internet? What’s it going to take to get you in an IRS payment plan letter written left-handed with magic marker and so riddled with spelling and grammatical errors that the agent reviewing your account vomits with pity and wipes away all your debt?

The Misadventures of Stick-Figure Justin: The Mustache

Stick-Figure Justin’s friends didn’t have the heart to tell him his mustache made him look more like registered sex offender Jeffrey Jones than Tom Selleck.

See more of these crappy cartoons here.

Let ‘em glisten!

Over the weekend, I shot this with my good friend and occasional writing/producing partner, Todd Kenworthy. We’re both fans of absurdity and paradox, and I think this short has both in spades. It took an hour (44 minutes of tape) to shoot this 1:41 piece because we couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

I play the effeminate chauvinist and the offended simpleton is played to perfection by Todd.

Just another Saturday night in the E.R. (Part 2)

Lately, I’ve had more than a few people ask me when I was going to post the conclusion to the story about my trip to the emergency room. It’s as if I have nothing better to do than spin delightful and occasionally folksy yarns about shitty things that happen to me for your free entertainment. I don’t, but still…

Anyway, because I don’t have the same motivation or inspiration that I had when I wrote Part 1, here are the highlights for you (lowlights for me):

• The only channel that came in well enough to see in my room (because they’re apparently somehow still using rabbit ears at that hospital) was TBS, where my wife and I were forced to watch Cheaper by the Dozen. Agony. Sheer agony.
• I was asked to pee in a cup and after a great deal of Benny Hill-esque effort (I was attached to about 20 electrodes and what seemed like 20 feet of electrical cables in the dirtiest bathroom of all time), I was able to squeeze out some pee, which sat in a cup on the tray near my hospital bed until a nurse threw it away just before I was discharged.
• I was subjected to the most uncomfortable and unpleasant medical experience of my life when I had to go for a CT scan. The second they injected the dye, it felt like I’d jumped crotch-first into a hot tub and I thought for sure I’d just died and vacated my bladder and bowels. Apparently, that’s normal.
• After five hours, I was discharged with a diagnosis of “aggressive palpitations and near syncope,” which basically meant I had a really bad panic attack and almost fainted. Pretty masculine diagnosis, huh?

There. Part 2. Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?

Ahem…sorry. It’s Russell Crowe week on TNT.

A few thoughts on hecklers

Worst graphic I've ever put on this blog?

I had my first live experience with a heckler last night.

Well, I should clarify to say that my involvement was just as a passing bystander, but the events that unfolded while I was in the room fascinated me.

I was at the Beat Kitchen in Roscoe Village for a night of stand up presented by Chicago Underground Comedy. If you live in Chicago and you’ve never checked it out, you should. While it’s often known as a breeding ground for improv actors, Chicago has a flourishing alt comedy scene, with many of the comics opening for the likes of Brian Posehn and Maria Bamford when they come to town. In other words, they’re really funny.

Anyway, one of the comedians was halfway through his set when some doucher in the back screamed, “You suck!”

Now, in this age of social media, where an anonymous, condescending comment is just a click away, anyone who puts themselves out there in any form creatively—be it a YouTube video, blog post, original song, podcast or anything in between—will be subjected to some form of e-heckle at some point. It’s inevitable.

The Internet provides a buffer zone for people to say things they’d never have the temerity to say to your face, and gives them the ability to freely ignore anything you have to say in response. It could be a negative rating on YouTube, or a passive-aggressive comment on a blog post from someone who lists their name as “A Concerned Friend of Your Mother,” or my personal favorite, an email from a guy you barely knew in college, who you’ve seen maybe twice since, detailing why a video you did wasn’t funny, and providing you with three short video concepts he thinks would be much funnier. (Thanks for the ideas, Jason. They’re HI-LAR-IOUS.)

But the live heckle? That’s something entirely different. Stand up comedy thrives on pacing and timing, and the heckle can rob even the most experienced performer of that. But occasionally, you get a comic who derives joy from addressing a heckler face-to-face, who revels in the embarrassment and torment he or she is about to inflict on the assbag who’s just interrupted their set. This guy was one such comic.

The Misadventures of Stick-Figure Justin

Euro Cat (studio session takes 1 – 3)

Someone's a little flat through the chorus.

It was bound to happen. A slow Friday afternoon led to this:

Regular readers of this blog might recall the feline sensation, Cat Rap (what what). Unfortunately, the recording of this track didn’t go as smoothly.

This epic fit of idiocy was made possible by the iPhone apps, Cat Piano and Dog Piano, as well as an inordinate amount of spare time.

My apologies in advance. You’re welcome.

“Tim Tibo: Yeah.”

Once in a blue moon, I get the opportunity to combine what I love to do (act like an idiot and make people laugh), with what I get paid to do (teach video production to corporate-types).

This is one such moon.

Below is a promo I did for an upcoming series of workshops I’ve been hired to teach. The company I’m teaching them for said I could do pretty much anything I wanted to do with the promo, provided it was safe for viewing at work. Below is what I came up with. It’s essentially a lampooning of every shitty corporate video you’ve ever been forced to watch.

For the record, I originally wanted to spell the name “Tim Tebow,” but still pronounce the same way I do in the video. That way, my end screen could read, “Don’t be like Tim Tebow.” The thought of naming a character who’s an obvious idiot after the greatest college football player of all time made me shriek with laughter. In the end, my better judgment won out and I didn’t go for the completely pointless knock on an obviously nice guy. Yay clarity!