J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

1.          I honestly could not care less about what what's-her-face did on some made-up awards show. Really. It was done for shock value, and by giving it your attention you are falling into the exact trap that the little twit intended. Thus, it isn't she who is the moron… (You know where this is going, don't you?) 2.          You can tell a lot about a man just by looking at his hands. Am I stereotyping? Duh. Take a man with a manicure, for instance. That tells me several things about him: he is either incapable of performing his own physical tasks, or is too pretentious to do so; he is more concerned about appearance than performance; and that he pays attention to the wrong details. I don't trust a man with a manicure. A man with scars on his hands, callouses, maybe even a little dirt under the nails – that's a man who's not afraid to work , and that's the man I want to work with. 4.          Bolognese sauce is always better with heavy cream. No

I hope you'll enjoy this follow up to a piece I originally posted February 29, 2012, entitled "A Little Advice..." _____________________________ Tom sat at the bar full of pride. In a little over a year since graduation he had not only gotten a job, but a good one at that, and found himself a nice, two-bedroom apartment with a garage near his downtown office. He'd been back to Coltrane's with the boys a few times, but after a while Tom had decided that Coltrane's wasn't the place for them. If they went there, Tom politely declined their invitation.   Instead, he went there alone, and enjoyed the pensive solitude he had been able to experience without juvenile interference. No longer referring to himself as "Tommy," he had done his best to shake off the shackles of drunken fraternity life. Tom wanted to be a man, not a "guy" or just one of the boys. Staring at the watch on his wrist gave him a serene sense of satisfactio

It was one of those weekends. You know the type – The kind of weekend during which, through your travels, you observe all kinds of odd things/happenings/people/fashion sense/ bodily functions. Combined, these events make about as much sense as the color seven, or Justin Bieber's existence. (Curse you, YouTube! Curse you to HEL… *ahem*) Yet… there they are. Happening and stuff. All around you. Why? How? Perhaps you have the answers. Perhaps you're the culprit (in which case I am going to take video of you and post it to the Internet. Yeah, that's right, YouTube, payback's a b*tch.) So what are these things, you didn't really ask but I am pretending that you asked because if you didn't ask this would be a really short blog post? Well I'll tell you! (Hey! Where are you going? You just sit your butt right down, mister. Or missy. I don't care who you are! Park it. You're reading this.) 1. Elderly Man Fashion. I use the term fashion loosely here.

Josh:                 Cait? *pause* J:                      Cait? Hello??? Caitlin:             WHAT? J:                      Why r u yelling at me??? C:                    A re you eff'n serious??? Really??? J:                      Caitlin, look, I'm sorry. C:                    Y ou stood me up, Josh! I sat at Jay's alone at 3 in the morning waiting for you. J:                      I know. I'm really sorry. C:                     No you're not. J:                      YES I AM. I wanted to go… C:                     But… *pause* J:                      But I couldn't. C:                     Who was it this time? Ashley? Christine? *pause* C:                     Yeah, that's what I thought. J:                      Fuck you! C:                     Tell me I'm wrong. J:                      You're wrong. C:                     And you're lying. J:                      What do you want me to sa