In this day in age, communication mediums are in abundance and that allows for an over load of messaging that could over stimulate even the most docile dude/chick on the block. Whether you are lagging behind a bit in embracing all that technology can offer or your life parallels a cast member of the Hills who spend more time on their iPhones then they do ever actually speaking, (Ed. Note: Justin Bobby while understated is by far the most underrated comedic performer of his generation), you can always improve your communication skills. Whether your eating, watching TV, juggling, working out, gambling, drinking, thumb wrestling and or driving we all frantically try to stay current with our emails, text messages, instant messages, face booking, my spacing and heaven forbid Tweets at Twitter! (See our last post). As always, bo hogan is here to be sure that every reader has the playbook to successfully integrate any and all of these mediums into your already improving lifestyle. The T-Mobile Fab Five Message spot will show case our top five messages each week to hopefully demonstrate how to perfect the art of meaningless exchanges with friends, relatives and stalkers. (Ed. Note: T-Mobile has not returned our calls, emails and text messages to agree to the use of their company name as a promotional partner for this spot but we are somewhat confident the $1,000 worth of booze, smokes and lap dances we charged to a credit card opened up under Catherine Zeta Jones name will be reimbursed by them as compensation for the brand awareness we are driving) Enjoy.
5.) Context: This is an email message from a buddy of ours who was recently impacted by the financial morasse that has engulfed the banking industry. He is a down to business type guy with slicked back hair, and a wide repatoire of pin stripe suits. He's always very serious and almost never ends a sentence with out the tag line, "In the best interest of our client broker relationship I cannot advise you on personal matters". This email is out of character to say the least.
Friend: "You got to get your feelers out for me man. The bank I work for has decided to close our office. I can either transfer to Chicago later this year, be unemployed or go stage five bat sh*t crazy and kidnap my boss and hold him hostage until I'm either given my job back (with an increase in pay) or they pay an obscene amount of ransom that allows me to move to the Cayman islands and become a dive instructor! Maybe I could get a sweet gig like you got, work out of the house in my underwear all day, listening to iTunes, playing on-line poker while sipping mojitos. Let me know if you know of any jobs like that. I would be interested in working in my underwear! In fact my resume objective reads, "interested in pursuing a career that allows for personal space in effect that allows for me to work in my underwear!" Out.
4.) Context: This text was from one of our site contributors Sam Rothstein Jr. in response to a voice mail that I left him asking him for a weekly post consisting of him feeding our readers a lock of the week. A lock is a gambling term for a bet that is a sure fire can't lose certafied lock for success.
Sam: "I'm in... super stone cold lock of the week, and it will more than likely be the most obscure thing you've ever heard of... like college women's field hockey (division III) lock of the week. Hammer, how about a daily post from Vegas too... we'll make it 5 days worth even though we won't be there that long. they dont have to know. very short, almost like gay twitter, and it probably shouldn't make any sense. Example post: "day 3 - no money. no food. kicked out of hotel. F'd a dude last night for $50. that'll be your post, not mine. another Kenny Powers quote: "I play real sports... not trying to be good at exercise"
3.) Context: This is an email from our resident health and exercise expert Carl the "Gym Guy" who apparently has successfully mastered the code to create web widgets that post pertinent information on porn stars running for public office.
Carl: "Tom, (please read and I hope you understand)
http://tpmdc.talkingpointsmemo.com/2009/05/stormy-daniels-forms-exploratory-committee-to-run-against-vitter-in-2010.php?ref=fpb I might be awol for awhile helping campaign for Ms. Daniels down in Louisiana. Don't call me I'll call you. - Carl"
2.) Context: This little gem of an email exchange was between Sam and I in preparation for our pending trip to Vegas next weekend. I'm convinced he needs Gamblers Anonymous more then I need Alcoholics Anonymous. You decide.
Sam: "There’s definitely a glitch in the matrix out in Vegas and its the texas hold em' table … it’s basically an ATM machine with no fee over at the Hard Rock. If I don’t win, I plan to turn to a life of crime. I was just thinking, since i'm going to have 24 hours or so until you guys get to Vegas, i'm going to do something i've always wanted to do but never had the balls. i'm going to sit at Caesars or Wynn or something (not bellagio where the pro's go) and play like 20/40 or 15/30 or something... what do you think, will i fold under the pressure, or leave that table with a plastic baggy full of black chips? you're jealous aren't you?"
Me: "Brilliant. High risk and high reward. That's how we roll. But if you are dead broke when I get there and can't spend countless hours at different table games with me then I will disown you and go on a binge drinking run that would make Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas queasy. In fact, I've went to the doctor and was fitted for a detector that will beep incessitently if my blood alcohol level ever gets below 0.2%.
Sam: "Shocker, you being drunk in Vegas is such a lock that I'd give you 4:1 if you could actually remember anything after 2:00am on any given night. the problem with sitting at a 20/40 table is getting me to leave if i'm not losing... i might not care that you're there, but you should understand that I'll be in a gamblers trance and potentially dangerous. if you see me, just approach slowly and speak softly so you don't startle me and then, once i know you're there, place some sort of bag or sack over my head, gather my chips and drag me the F out of there."
1.) Context: This text exchange comes from a friend of mine with whom I was discussing the NBA playoffs with in particular the Denver Nuggets series with the Lakers. If you aren't a die hard NBA fan you may not know the individual players here but let me give you some background. The "Bird Man" Chris Anderson, pictured above, is a heavily tatted, lengthy fo-hawk, spazz of a power forward who just returned to the league after a suspension for a heroin addiction. Travis Henry is a form NFL running back who's had more arrests then OJ and has 9 kids with 9 different women.
Friend: "Speaking of, this has turned out to be a very interesting NBA playoff. It's amazing how much Detroit has helped Denver by passing on Melo and trading Billups for old weed lungs Iverson. But between Nene, K-Mart and Chris Anderson, I'd say that the odds are 50/50 that the Nuggets commit some sort of off-court atrocity involving a strip club, guns, a Scarface poster and an el camino full of pit bulls...not to mention that Travis Henry still lives there!"
Me: "Do you think that the Bird Man ever watches the replay of a game and just cringes or reverts back to the needle after the announcers inevitably say, "And in comes Anderson, he is back in the league following a lengthy suspension for violating the substance abuse policy while fighting a heroin addiction!" In game 162 of the season they are still guaranteed to say those words when he enters the game. Why don't they say, "Kobe Bryant opens the game with a bucket, he is lucky to be in the league after his little affair in Denver where he got a little rough with a hotel employee and then dodged the inevitable rape charge!" I mean cmon, fair is fair.
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