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I was surfing Facebook the other day, seein how many ladies were checking me out on my Social Profile (like a lot, btw) and I noticed the ad above.

Words from the wise to the dumb:

"Sir, while you may live a lifestyle you love and profit from it, you are also fat, and dare I conjecture, deficient in intimate experiences with the opposite gender?"
~ Logan Vance

Probably My Best Idea, Ever.

Aside from inventing a new exercise to sculpt my abs into the shape of a 4-leafed clover for St. Patrick's day, I think this is probably the best thing I've ever come up with. The Ultimate Dream Ticket:
Barack Obama and Morgan Freeman

Honestly, has nothing been more clear in the history of existence?

Let's look at what this dream-team has going for them:
1). They're both awesome.
2). Barack is all about change and Freeman is all about awesome.
3). While Obama has never narrated a movie before, I'm sure he's one of the few that could rival his new running mate. (Imagine how awesome a tag-team speech between the two of them would sound!)

When explaining this to someone else they said, "Yeah, and they're both black." Are we really that immature as a nation? I mean, come on, seriously? On that note however, Samuel L. Jackson could also possibly fill in for Freeman. Otherwise, I'd have him as the Secretary of Defense (did you see Snakes on a Plane?)

The 3G iPhone is Here (Finally!)

So that girl came in the other day, the one that's bought one of every iPod we sell. She came over to me and asked if I could sell her one of the new 3G iPhones (Cause she knew they were hiding in the back room). I politely told her no and she turned to leave.

Then she turns back around comes up to me, kisses me on the cheek and whispers in my ear, "you look even sexier than the new iPhone," and then left.

Honestly, it was a little weird. I hope she's not one of those people that finds computers, iPods, and cellphones sexually attractive because then we'd be way too much in common.

I've got a Stalker

This girl, Sami I think her name is, has come into the store 2-3 times a week for the past few weeks now. Each time she buys a new iPod. But not the same one, it's always something different. She started small and bought a silver iPod shuffle, then a purple one. Then she bought an iPod Nano and the next day, an iPod classic. Last week she bought a 16GB iPod touch on Tuesday and then a 32GB one that Friday. When she came in yesterday I told her we were all out of iPhones (which I figured would be the next logical step in her purchasing pattern) so she bought an AppleTV instead.

The thing is, she ALWAYS comes to me for her purchases. Someone else offered to help her once but she turned him down and walked straight over to me for help.

More on this as it progresses. My guess is she'll be in either Monday or Tuesday this week to buy the new 3G iPhone. Seriously it's totally awesome. Oops, I wasn't supposed to reveal that ;P

I'm not like Hillary Clinton.

The other day Jon Stewart called Hillary Clinton a deranged narcissist for not dropping out of the election (after Barack won, woot!). Later that day someone compared me to Hillary - to which I have a few things to say:

1). While we are both very manly masculine people, Hillary has a surprisingly lady-like set of boobs (maybe she's transexual?)

2). I am comfortable with my narcissistic tendencies. Ignorant people who say things like, 'You're deranged like that transexual running for president' are what is holding this country back. Seriously mom, fuck you. I can't believe you said that to my face after you walked in me while pretending to be Buffalo Bill.

Getting Hit on @ Work Can Suck Big Time

I got written up at work today. This old woman who looked like she should have been shopping for a gramaphone comes in and starts asking me questions about iPods. Apparently her granddaughter wants one for her birthday. If she had just stayed on topic about the iPods I wouldn't have had a problem, but as our conversation progressed I realized she was totally hitting on me. She kept saying stuff like "what a nice young man you are Mr. Logan", and "You're being so helpful". I got fed up with it and laid out in no uncertain terms how I was not into her. A long story short, apparently saying, "I'm just not in to black chicks" can be construed as racist.

Staying in a Mexican Jail Makes Your Butt Sore

Ok, so two weeks ago I got this brilliant idea of becoming a tequila connoisseur. Where else do you go when you want to become a tequila connoisseur than Mexico I thought. I told my boss at the Apple Store my Aunt... uh, I forget which one I said cause I was totally lying, but I told my boss she died in Mexico and I had to go there and bring her body back to the states.

So I get through the border and hit up the first town I find thinking they're probably going to have some great tequila for the tourists that just came into the country. College taught me that when people chant your name you're supposed to chug; I just forgot that the rule typically applied to beer or small quantities of hard alcohol and not an entire bottle of tequila.

Next thing I know I'm in a Mexican prison with a sore ass. There was another guy in my cell who smiled and waved to me when I woke up but he didn't speak English.

Long story short, I was lucky I only had to spend a week in that prison but I had to walk/hitch hike my way back home cause the Mexican Policia trashed my car.

Sadly, it still hurts to sit down.

I Can Sympathize With PC

Don't know if you've seen this new Get-a-Mac commercial. Working @ the Apple Store I saw it a few weeks before the public and I got a good laugh. But last night after searching Craigslist for people wanting friends (I think of it as giving back to society), I wound up @ Apple.com and started watching the new ads again. Even though my second religion has always been Macintosh-centric, I've never really sympathized with that PC character until now. Reminds me of when my 'friends' suggested counseling.

Mother's Day

So I forgot my mom on Mother's day and now everyone's been trying to make me feel guilty. I don't get what all the fuss is about though. All she did was birth me. I poop stuff out all the time and nobody marks their calenders for me.

Hangovers

Two Words, HUNG OVER. I need to stop going to parties I don't host myself. Waking up with a splitting headache and your friend yelling at you for puking into his piano/refrigerator is not fun. He didn't even let me explain myself. He just kept telling me to give him back his pants and get out. Needless to say we're not on good terms anymore. I need to stop celebrating these made up holidays.

The worst part is that, like all hangovers, I have nothing but unanswered questions. Where are my keys? Do I really need to apologize to my friend for what Mr. Pabst BlueRibbon is truly responsible for? Why did I leave romantic messages on my own answering machine? How did I get mustard in my shoes?

I think I just need to clear my head....

Off to a Great Start

To keep things simple, let's just say I thought yesterday (May 4th) was Cinco De Mayo and I had a little party at my apartment with me, myself, and I... and a whole bottle of tequila.

Conveniently enough today was my first full day of training at the Apple Store and I didn't wake up until about five in the afternoon. Sure enough, I check my answering machine and it's like a scene out of Office Space with Bill Lumberg calling the house every fifteen minutes. I call the manager back and talked some sense into her about 'considering revoking my employment.' I gave her some BS about an old woman with the power of OSX and my iPhone - (which isn't true cause I was the one who healed her).

I AM IRON MAN!!!

I know I was Iron Man in a past life, no joke. It just feels and sounds so natural when I say it.

Seriously though, go see the movie. Freakin' awesome.

Check it, Bitches. Someone Just got a Spiffy New Job

Good News! I just got hired on by the Apple Store as a Mac Specialist. Basically I'm going to get paid to listen to my iPod and play with sexy gadgets. The only potential problem I have with the job is I might have to talk to and deal with customers. Shoppers usually annoy the hell out of me. I thought of a way around them though. People usually ignore someone really intently looking at an iPod so I'll just check my MySpace with headphones on.

If that doesn't work I'll do what I used to do when I worked in retail. Just un-shelve and then re-shelve, break, and then fix.

We Can All Learn a Thing From This Little Gangster

People often ask me how I became successful in life. The secret is to just go out and do what you want to do, seize your destiny and make the things you want come true - like this enterprising little gangster:

What do Hillary Clinton and Microsoft Have in Common?

Donald Duck is an Asshole

I imagine if I was allowed to stay at the Magic Kingdom, something like this would have happened to me eventually.


(click image to enlarge)

For what it's worth, Goofy had it coming.

I'm Going on a California Adventure

Woke up early to hit up one of the three local Wal*Marts to pick up half a dozen cans of Axe and Tag body spray - I'm trying to be conservative so these will last till I get back home. After dropping off the stash in my room and rolling around in a cloud of Axe:Phoenix scent, I grabbed my D-Land pass and headed for the park. The bus ride over wasn't bad since I was going pretty early in the morning, but the driver was so ugly I almost want to become bulimic for her.

I waded through an ocean of tourists when I got there for about an hour before the park opened - unfortunately I wasn't able to find any special lines for my kind of people and decided I better not cause any more trouble while in town. When Mickey the Nazi Mouse finally got his ass off the train to let us in, I was immediately requested to be part of some sort of corporate photo shoot. One of the park employees pulled me aside and asked if she could take my picture. Naturally I agreed, it would be great for my resume to put down, "Modeling Work for the Disney Corporation." Later that day when I walked by the gift shop, I noticed they were already selling pictures of me for $14.99 each. They'll probably start sending me royalty checks in the mail every few weeks.

Other then that, I'm happy to report that the day has been running pretty smoothly, I just figured I'd pop by the Internet Cafe and give you folks a brief update while I chow down on some fries. Perhaps I'll come back later for another update if there are less creepy old men looking at various forms of 'illegal' pornography.

I've Been Stupid.

I'm not going to lie to you guys. As time ticks by I've begun to notice a *slight* decline in my body's usual trim and sculpted appearance. I was just about to renew my membership at the gym when this commercial came on about stomach vibrators. There I was sitting on the couch with my hands in my pants watching the TV and on the TV there was a dude doing the EXACT SAME THING but getting buff kick ass abs while doing it!

I don't know why I even thought of wasting money on a gym membership (= "Stupid Tax") when I could be creating the body I deserve while doing all the other stuff I want to do. The ad said I could return it for a full refund after 3 weeks. You know what THAT means:

Free abs of steel!!!

Who's the sucker now?

BTW - The folks at D-Land Management will allow me to go to California Adventure tomorrow, but I am banned from the Magic Kingdom for the next few years. Oh well, there's always Disney World

Computer Broke

Computer broke. Thought about throwing it at the manager when he asked about the broken tv. Since I want to keep my room for a few more days I just chucked it in the toilet. I'm currently blogging from my iPhone because I'm special enough to have one - and no not everyone get one; I doubt the cleaning lady that just left couldn't afford one. Perhaps if she was better at her job... I won't even go there.

Btw - getting a gun in California isn't as easy as I thought. Even the guys selling them in the alley behind my hotel wouldn't sell to me. Looks like Logan Vance is going to have to get creative if I am going to take out Mary Poppins.

You Look and Sound Like a Cow When...

Goddamnit, chew with your fucking mouth closed. Not only is it rude and inconsiderate, but it makes you look and sound like a friggin cow. I don't care how attractive you are prostitute-I've-been-eying-from-my-window-for-the-past-five-minutes, you just lost yourself a customer.

D-Land, Day 2: Broken TV, Hot Chick, and a Revelation

I put my foot through my hotel room TV. Let me explain.

Because of the incident yesterday I've had some trouble getting into the other Disney parks; so I was forced to spend the day hanging out at the (un)Comfort(able) Suites. Aside from the TV incident, one other good thing happened today. 

After my ticket was rejected at the Magic Kingdom (can't blame for trying), I decided to hit up the hotel bar for breakfast.  Let me try and describe the barmaid in one word:

...

Ok, I can't. But she is the most attractive female I have ever seen, excluding myself in drag. I started things off with three shots of Jack and went to take a leak. By the time I got back, I swear her boobs got bigger or something. She started talking to me, for real. Not like those other airhead bimbos I chase after; this bimbo had brains. I told her I was here to go to Disneyland. I took pride in telling her, "No I'm not here with my family."

Unfortunately, I tried hinting that I was an available bachelor whereas she probably thought I was some weird ass jacko going to D-Land by myself. Personally, I don't see anything wrong with doing what you want, so long as you can get special treatment for being yourself.

Twenty minutes and five shots later, she said I was fine for the time being. I told her I would be lounging and doing laps in the pool in my speedo. Don't think she ever found me at the pool though, the chlorine pretty much doused what was left of the four cans of Axe I used for an impromptu shower the day before.

Anyway, back to the TV.

After a few hours of tanning and nearly drowning from swimming under the influence (which I don't recommend, btw) I came back to my room, took a half-hour shower, and strut around the room naked to dry off. I decided to treat myself to the high life and ordered room service.

While I waited for the food to arrive, I got a brilliant idea. I took the remaining two and a half cans of Tag Body Spray I had in my bag (need to buy more tomorrow) and went into the bathroom. After turning the room into a sauna, thanks to the shower and sink faucet, I sprayed out the contents of the cans and just lie there on the floor listening to the water run as the particles of liquid sexy mated with my body. Man that was awesome; I'm just glad I didn't have to pay the water bill.

The food arrived a good 30 minutes later so I was feeling quite fantastic. I wrapped a towel around me for courtesy's sake before opening the door to accept the food. Door closed, I tossed the towel back in the bathroom, water still running for later sauna usage, and brought the food into bed.

And then I lost it. The first thing I heard when I turned the TV on was, well, I don't want to get all steamed up again, but suffice it to say I immediately recognized it as the voice of Mary Poppins. That woman has been thinking she's the greatest thing ever for the past 44 years. It angers me because she clearly isn't! Instinctively I got up and put my foot through the TV and tossed it out the window.

I get it now. I know why I was brought here to Disneyland. Some supreme force wants me to kill Mary Poppins.

Mickey Mouse is a Nazi Too

Right now I'm writing this post from my hotel room in Disneyland. The place that claims it's "The Year of a Million Dreams", but apparently not one of them is mine. To be fair, I didn't start this vacation in the best mood. My experience at the airport was predictably horrific; they didn't even let me bring ONE can of Axe on board. I didn't want to throw them away so I used all four them right there in front of the metal detectors. The security guys were pissed but by then the line was held up so much they couldn't give me a hard time for smelling awesome.

Then when I get on the plane, like the idiot that [people say] I am, I got into the same argument with the flight attendants that I always do. They say I have to sit in the section I paid for, I say that I'm clearly a first class guy who deserves better than coach.

So you can imagine my reaction when I finally got into Disneyland and tried cutting in line. The chick in charge of the ride starts yelling at me. By this time I've had enough crap from those kinds of people so I fired back by asking to speak with her manager. The next thing I know this short porker wobbles over and says HE is the manager. As you might imagine I flipped out right there. First thing out of my mouth is "You're not the manager Porky Pig [I actually said that!] and if I don't get to speak to Mickey in 5 minutes I'm going right up to the top of his palace to give him an earful about what kind of crap's been going on in his kingdom."

Long story short, Porky Pig is a Warner Bros' character, and I'm banned from the Magic Kingdom. They wouldn't even let me take my case to one of the Embassies over at the Epcot center (apparently that's in the "Florida Disneyland"). I guess one of Mickey's "million dreams" is to build a dysfunctional police state for kids.

Wanna Hit me Up?

If you'd like to get in contact with me to berate me, ask questions, or provoke my comical antics, feel free to drop me an email at:

LoganTheNarcissist@gmail.com

The Tale of Gandhi and the Spoon

I haven't been to church in ages. It wasn't fair to the members of my former congregation. They shouldn't have to choose between me and their God.

Ever since I left the church, I've been really interested in becoming a Buddhist. My parents said they thought I wasn't capable of giving up material desires. Little do they know of my struggles at the ward. My room was specifically ridden of all reflective surfaces. To my great fortune, the food lady once accidentally gave me a metal spoon with my lunch instead of the mandated plastic ones.

That spoon helped me get through all the tough times in my cell.

When the season of Lent began, the ward's minister asked me what I was going to give up for Jesus. Naturally I couldn't tell him without the risk of loosing my spoon. I told him I wouldn't daydream about lying naked on the beach.

That night, guilt ran over me like that time my smokin' hot ex-girlfriend caught me shopping at Wal*Mart. I decided to not look at my spoon the next day; by the end of which, I began to understand what Gandhi felt like when he gave up food and resisted his desire to hit people.

I'm Speechless

Three words:

"What. The. Fuck?"

Why is the Pope so Great Anyway?

So apparently the Pope just gave a mass to 40 thousand million billion people the other day. Over in Seattle the Dalai Lama was doing his whole bald genius schtick and everyone was oohing and ahhhing over it. It really got me asking myself how they got so much more out of life than me. Yeah I've got some pretty awesome stuff, but nothing compared to what the Pope has. I wear Abercrombie, he has his own specially tailored pope clothes, I have an apartment with cable TV, he has his own city, I use Norton antivirus software, he has bodyguards with pikes.

Why? Is it because he's German? Is it family connections? Is it because people think he's better than me? How did he claw his way so far up the heap? How many people do you have to screw over to become Pope anyway?

I can absolve sin just as well as that old fart. I frickin pee holy water yet when I tried sprinkling it on people I spent the night in jail. He got a whole parade just cause he can wiggle his hand. It's not like we don't have alot in common. We both have a special connection with the Almighty, we both have an enviable sense of panache, we both get rocks thrown at us, we were both briefly involved with Naziism etc. etc...

Been Planning a Trip to D-Land

Sorry I've been quiet the past few days, I've been running around looking for a new job. Unfortunately, the only places that have accepted me are modeling agencies (I easily turned down a dozen offers this past week). Personally, I'd like something a little more intellectually stimulating. It's sad that people look at me and think my brains can't possibly compare to my looks.

Anyway...

That bastard-of-a-friend Will (one of the guys that recommended me for psychiatric analysis) called the other day to check my progress. I told him I was planning a trip down to Disneyland. 

He said he'd been there the previous summer and asked me what I was going to do about the long lines.

"Good question," I told him. "I know I am allowed to jump to the front of the line, but I think I would feel bad just the same."

And then the call just died. I need to talk with T-Mobile; they always disconnect me when Will calls.

Out of Axe = :(

Ran out of Axe bodyspray... again; I should never let that happen. This afternoon I'm on the bus riding downtown and I notice a female sitting not too far away from me. Sneaky me reaches into my pocket for a shot of  liquid sexy (pheromones?) only to find my supply is dwindling. (Seriously, I think I only got 30-45 seconds of spray on me).

After shooting up I toss the can aside and brace myself; she looks ready to pounce on me, just like in the commercials. Minutes pass and I'm still sitting there, eyes closed with my arms pressed deep into the seat waiting to be body slammed in a fit of chemically-induced lust: but she just sat there. 

Maybe it's cause she looked pregnant? Don't know, whatever. Her loss. Next time I'll be sure to have a full can on me.

My Resume

Someone asked to see my resume:

That resume hasn't netted me a job yet. As soon as I find an interviewer that hasn't seen Mary Poppins, I'm a shoe in. One of the interviewers even had the audacity to say I plagiarized that line. I'm pretty sure if I was alive before that movie came out I would have thought of it before that she-devil.

I Healed a Blind Woman.

The strangest thing happened to me today. I'm at the library looking to pick up something new and I pass by a group of blind women scanning through the special braille editions of various popular books. I'm just going down down one of the rows looking for something interesting and I notice one of the women turns to look at me. I mean right at me. I take a few steps to the left and her eyes follow. I walk to the edge of the aisle and she turns her head to follow me.

"It can't be," I think.

Just to be sure, I walked straight up to her and waved my fingers in her face - until she slapped me and walked away without her walking cane. She could see again; I am a Healer.

I always knew there was something about being around me that was great and now I have anecdotal proof.

Match.com

So, I just finished setting up an account on Match.com and nobody seemed interested. Nobody. It really makes you wonder where all the single women went. I mean, if you can't find them on a dating website, where can you find them? My mother raised me to be honest and upfront with people, so I was. On my profile page I wrote how I was looking for a women who really knows how to pamper a man. The kind of women who comes home from an eight-hour work day and still takes the time to ask me about my day. The kind of woman whose willing to show me the good life, take me to fancy restaurants, movies, plays, the beach and yet doesn't expect to somehow own me just because she picked up the check.

What woman wouldn't want that? Sheesh...

A Clarification

I'd just like to clarify something. You people tend to stereotype folks with my "condition" by saying we like to eat our own turds. Seriously, that's absolutely disgusting.

But we do it anyway.

My Mantra

If someone ever complains about me for any reason, I simply take a moment to visit the paradise in my head and repeat:

"If God wanted me to be humble, he wouldn't have made me so beautiful."

- Logan Vance

My Name is Logan Vance

My name is Logan Vance and I'm fucking brilliant. In case you didn't get that the first time, I'm going to say it again so there's no question: My name is Logan Vance and I'm fucking brilliant. I'm not "kind of smart." I'm brilliant. I've known it since I was a child, I know it now, and in time you'll know it too.

Like most geniuses, I've been both misunderstood and ignored most of my life. Teachers never knew how to grade my papers, employers felt too intimidated to hire a man so clearly overqualified, psychiatrists at the ward never knew how to diagnose me, and women don't know how to handle someone who is clearly their intellectual superior. But I intend to change that. They can ignore me on the street, they might not answer my phone calls, they may even pretend they don't know me, but in the end, I am fan-freakin-tastic!

The Internet is without a doubt the most powerful delivery mechanism for media delivery ever. I plan to inject my wisdom into the veins of public opinion. Telling the world what I think and how I feel is not only my desire, but my obligation to mankind. The world needs to know not just my thoughts, but the facts of my life that will carry over and make you a better person. The late Robert Kennedy once said, "Moral courage is a rarer commodity than bravery in battle or great intelligence. Yet it is the one essential, vital quality for those who seek to change a world that yields most painfully to change." I am brave, I am intelligent, and in time I shall prove my moral courage. Lookout world, I'm a triple threat!