two visionaries visualizing.

Happy Father’s day (to whom it applies). 

I plan to have kids one day. I’d like a couple of little Visionaries running around. But on this day of reflection and appreciation for fathers past and present, I wonder to myself what I would be like as a father. 

I dread the day my son starts to play little league baseball and asks me how to properly field a pop-up.

“Um..ask your mother. I always fucked that shit up, man.”

Or when he’s in junior high, and wants tips on how to ask a girl to be his date.

“Um..ask your mother. I always fucked that shit up, too.”

What knowledge could I bestow upon my future son? How to deliver an anti-humor one-liner? “Just maintain eye contact with your listener.” I guess that’s solid advice. I could turn the little bugger into a Steve Martin in no time at all. 

“Son, we all want to be basketball players when we grow up. But I don’t know shit about playing basketball, so your best bet is to pick up blogging.”

Hopefully my son is content with just watching sports with me. I’ve always been an absolute professional sports expert. I could tell you the starting lineup for the Yankees in Game 4 of the 2003 World Series. I’m still pissed that Grandpa Joe Torre dropped Soriano in the order. 

I could tell you how many interceptions Chad Pennington threw for the Jets in 2006. I loved that guy.

But that’s about it. If he wants to actually play these sports…I could teach him how to best maximize his time on the bench. Orange Gatorade tastes funny if you’re chewing Big League Chew, but with Hubba Bubba, it’s great. 

I don’t even know how to drive stick. Last time I tried, the car ignited in flames. After it stalled. Hopefully he’s down to drive a conservative automatic transmission Toyota. That I can do (that’s a Visionary authorship curve ball).

Wow. My dad must really feel like he fucked up with me.

Oh, well. At least I can tell jokes. There’s two muffins in an oven..

When we use this term, we know that there is a very rare chance of anything actually happening. It just sounds better to give a generalized, hopeful response rather than an intimidating “no.”

This term really just means,

“No.”

“No I can’t.”

“Don’t sign me up.”

“I would like to enroll in weekly Avid Tennis Club Anonymous, but my plans to do so are tentative.”

“I won’t be showing up at any Avid Tennis Club meetings.”

Hence the use of a pencil.

Thanks.

A note from the co-Visionary: This phenomenon is not too different from the “deff, bro” phenomenon we discussed here.

lalalaurenjoy asked: I must say, I think the Visionary Sandwich to sounds delectable, and I wish I had an opportunity to try it.

At least someone does! I, for one, think it sounds horrifying. But that’s what being a Visionary is about, right? Being a fearless pioneer. My co-Visionary, the creator of this meal, will be happy to see you feel this way. 

The Increasingly Disturbing Behavior of a Visionary.

I’m getting nervous. I’m getting very nervous. The mental well-being of the Visionaries has never been a question. We have been out of our minds since fifth grade. But recently, my co-Visionary has made me genuinely question his health. 

In other words, I’ve been saying “what the fuck?” more often than usual. 

The first instance was when I got into his car and I heard bluegrass music. I next noticed that he developed a habit of whistling music from The Godfather whenever we transitioned from doing one activity to another. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when he proudly announced to me the creation of a new sandwich he called “The Visionary”. It’s a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel, with strawberry cream cheese. And chicken salad. My natural reaction to hearing about him eating that sandwich was queasiness. My next reaction was distress as I realized he had no idea why I thought it was gross. He became very defensive. 

“Fuck you, man. That’s what I wanted to eat. I don’t have to explain it to anybody.”

Moments later, he passed gas and blamed it on animal crackers. 

The night culminated in him drinking a glass of wine, and driving in reverse for a quarter of a mile. 

If you have any suggestions as to what I should do to help him, let me know. 

This is not a real word. Not until this moment, that is. From the people that brought you “complinsult” and “daughter of a bitch” now comes a word that you will use every day for the rest of your life. Trust me.

A confirmant is a person, thing or set of factors that confirm the validity of an assumption or suspicion. 

I live my life based off of confirmants and I constantly seek new confirmants. For better or worse, nothing in my life in accomplished unless I have some sort of confirmant. 

If you are unsure of what exactly a confirmant is, that last paragraph should have served as a confirmant to you. If you can’t understand that paragraph, then that paragraph confirmed to you that you do not know what a confirmant is. Therefore, that paragraph is a confirmant. 

Here’s an everyday life situation that involves confirmants, and the set of circumstances that necessitate a confirmant. 

You pour yourself a glass of milk. You don’t know how long it has been in the refrigerator, and you are not sure whether or not the milk is still fresh. To determine that the milk is fresh, you need a confirmant. A confirmant in this situation would be if the milk is clumpy, discolored or has a foul odor. A further confirmant is if it tastes sour. 

If a girl gives you her number, that serves as a confirmant that she is interested in you. If she takes her number away from you, it serves as a confirmant that she is one of the X-Men. 

It is virtually impossible to prove a negative without positive evidence (you cannot prove that the sky is not red, though you can prove that the sky is blue and therefore not red). Based off of this principle, confirmants can help you reach both positive and negative conclusions. 

Here are a list of facts that served as confirmants that allowed me to reach a conclusion. 

• The co-Visionary likes strawberry cream cheese and toasted cinnamon raisin bagels. 
• He also likes chicken salad. 
• He decides to order them together in one sandwich, and called it “The Visionary”. 
• He is offended by the fact that I find a strawberry cream cheese, chicken salad and cinnamon raisin bagel sandwich to be disgusting. He says I should be “happy” that he named a disgusting sandwich after our website.

These facts confirmed to me that there is something wrong with this guy. I should monitor his behavior. 

Now it’s your turn. Email us at curbyouroffice@gmail.com realizations you have come to through the use of confirmants. 

You’ve probably accused hundreds of eyes from staring at you throughout your lifetime.

“that fucking rabbit has been staring at me the entire night”

“what the fuck is that man staring at?”

“is it me, or have those middle-aged women been staring at me for the past 20 seconds?”

I caught myself making a remark quite similar to the above in a recent experience at the diner.

However, while I was making these insignificant accusations, I had an epiphany. 

The epiphany being that the party staring at me was not actually staring, and that I should stop jumping to conclusions. 

So without further ado, here are ways in which I distinguish staring from looking:

Staring, if:
The person, party, or rabbit has not blinked their eyes for the entirety of the gaze.

Staring, if:
You as well are staring.

Staring, if:
The facial expression of the starer yields a shift in position of the eyebrow, eyebrows, arm, (mostly to stroke their chin, place the surface of the index finger over their lips, or aid in the act of laughing hysterically) mouth, or adam’s apple.

Staring, if:
No vital signs are exhibited

Looking, if:
The looker diverts their eyes to something of higher importance.

Looking, if:
The looker is conscious about their lookings by thinking they are staring at you, and unnaturally tries diverting their eyes (by doing this actually makes themselves more marketable to being stared at.)

Looking, if:
The looker is pointing at you, regardless if they are with anyone, anything else.

Looking, if:
The looker has a lazy eye. In this case, no one is certain to what gaze the person currently holds in their mind. In other words, no one is quite sure what’s being looked at.

Today I am proud to announce a special sandwich created by me, a Visionary.

If you take yourself to Bean and Bagel Café in Calverton, NY, you can now please yourself with a taste of your favorite Visionary.

That is:

A toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with strawberry cream cheese and chicken salad.

Yes, you heard right.

When I walked into this establishment hungry for hunger, I decided to mash together two of my sandwich favorites - chicken salad and strawberry cream cheese.

When I requested the special combination, looks of confusion, uncertainty and disgust were illustrated by the café staff.

I thought this was the perfect reaction.

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard of,” marked the middle-aged owner.

“Where did you come up with that?” another staff member said, as she forcefully sliced Boar’s Head product.

I left the crew with no concrete answer. 

“It’s a Visionary sandwich. That’s all.”

After the owner questioned my mental condition, she told me she would put the sandwich on the menu.

“It’s called ‘The Visionary’ I told her.”

She took out a piece of paper so I could officially give birth to the sandwiches’ residence at the Café.

As of tomorrow, this sandwich will be live at the café. Please don’t start drooling right away. Save that for the sandwich.