Last night I went to the first of what I assume will be many more of my friends tying the knot. It’s not surprising, as I’ve quickly watched my Facebook feed go from homo-social drinking binges and “boys vacations” to instagram photos of ugly babies, bachelorette parties and engagement rings. Listen, I’m an uncle and genuinely understand the ability of a baby to be ridiculously cute, but come on–yesterday a girl posted sixty pictures of her daughters first bath. Sixty! Not only did you openly post porn for pedophiles, but how many pictures do you think the world (I now refer to Facebook as the world, seeing it’s all we care about) wants to see of little Emma–or whatever her name is–getting her stupid baby hair washed? And really, she was crying in half of them. I assume it’s because you’re barely twenty and baby daddy bought cheap-a$$ Suave shampoo instead of Johnson’s No More Tears and now little Cindy has an eye infection. You going to post pictures of that as well?

My frustration is not in weddings (I love open bars) or babies, but more in aging. Getting older sucks. Do you know what happens when I scrunch my forehead together? Like twenty little rolls of fat and face jelly squeeze together and tell the world how old and ugly I am. Do you know what happened when I did that a couple of years ago? Nothing happened. My forehead would just sort of wink and look dashing as fu#k. All I have to do is sneeze and my face looks like Rosanne Barr trying to fit in a pair of extra-small Spanx. When I was eighteen I would go out all night, go to class in the morning and still spend the afternoon teaching myself how to sing like Nina Sky. Now I fall asleep ten minutes after 1:00am and I have to call out of work for a week and a half. I walk up a flight up stairs and my knees start cracking. Really? Ten steps and my knees start thinking, “you know what? This is just too much for us. We need to start hurting Danny so he’ll go sit back on the couch and think about his fat forehead.”

I guess the mix of wedding cake and baby’s first birthday invites has me hating. Not on children or love, just that the both of them remind me I no longer need a fake id to buy cheap bottles of Goldschlager and sneak into nightclubs with dumb names like, “Saucy” and “Club Fancy Doors.”

I wish I could still get into Club Fancy Doors with a dashing forehead,

Daniel Dickey

I feel bloggers always hold and have a war within themselves for not “blogging as much as I should.” And well, I understand it because I feel like I’m not “blogging as much as I should.” It’s a petty problem–if even that. But still, I should be writing more. I say this now because on Monday alone I had 12,000 readers. Take a second to think of how many people that is. Now give me a second couple of seconds to think of how many people that is (note I got into writing when math decided it didn’t want to be friends).

When I started this blog over three and a half years ago I was head over heels happy to get 50 readers a day. Actually for a while 50 readers seemed godly, if not impossible. I had just moved to New York and most of my writing endeavors consisted of stage and screenplays (mostly unproduced). I desperately wanted another outlet to express myself, but I didn’t want to be seen writing in a diary. I wanted the opportunity for others to read my work, as my girlfriend and close friends no longer cared to. And most importantly I wanted to expand as a writer. Well hello Wordpress. Lets be friends (unlike math–we’re still not friends).

Since that first blog written in a subletted Brooklyn apartment I’ve grown tremendously as a writer. I’ve been published in magazines, newspapers and even once in a fortune cookie (note I paid to have my prose put inside the cookie. But still, it was printed).  And none of it would’ve been possible without starting and maintaining a blog. This has been the light that helped me find my literary voice in a dark room filled with once upon a time and knock knock jokes. It’s forced me to write, rewrite, delete, write again, rewrite again and eventually throw my computer on the ground and eat ice cream while watching The Ghost Whisperer. Ideally I would’ve had a book published my now, but seeing that there are currently over 50 million blogs on the internet, I’m not fretting about the delay. This wasn’t started with the intent of getting a book deal (complete lie), this began as a tool to help me build a solid career with words. And it has helped.

Here and there I’ll click to a random month in my achieves and see what I was blogging about then. Some times it’s an erotic story about making love to a garden gnome and other times it’s about getting a henna tattoo on my face, but in each I spot errors I’d never make now. Not necessarily syntax and grammar–though there are plenty of those–but my attempts at showcasing a voice is flawed. It’s obvious I didn’t even know what my voice was. I was trying, but failing miserably at capturing the magic going on in my head. I often read old posts that make me cringe, but on the other end of the spectrum, sometimes I cross ones that makes me laugh out loud. Either way I keep them because it reinforces my original intent when started this–grow. However, wherever, whenever–grow.

I’ve written on this blog during some of my happiest moments and equally during some of my saddest. It’s hugged me during breaks up and hi-fived me during sexcapades. In it you’ll find raw pieces of life and humorous musings about clay and penis shaped clouds. You’ll see funny pictures and silly videos and read politics and poems. You’ll find me in many different forms–and whichever form you happen to stumble into, I’m happy you’re here.

It feels good to have grown to 12,000 readers a day,

Daniel Dickey

While walking the red carpet for her new perfume launch, Kim Kardashian had flour thrown at her. I suppose she kneaded that?

Impressively, she didn’t press charges against the girl that threw the flour at her. And she even told the paramedics on site that she didn’t want medical treatment. Talk about roughing it out! She headed to her hotel room, changed clothes and went back to the event. Not too shabby.

In other news, Whitney Houston looked exactly the same at her time of death.

You know you go to a fine establishment when things like this happen during class. This went on today at FAU’s Boca campus and so far, it’s the most notoriety the university has ever received. Talk about making progress! Read the YouTube description for details on how everything went down.

My top jokes so far:

• This happened right after she heard about the Dolphins signing David Garrard.
• She was expecting a 100% on her midterm and got a 99%. Some kids are serious about getting into grad school.
• I really like the part where she’s yelling.
• I’m wondering if financial aid is going to cover her bail?

This morning I was forwarded pictures of Nicki Minja attempting to look sexy with green hair and a pink bikini. She does not look sexy–she looks like a moron, but I’ve been on the “Nicki Minja is a moron bandwagon” since day one. That said, I’m a fan of Lady Gaga and she often does things that look moronic, so I’ll try not to be bias.

Both Stefani Germanotta and Onika Maraj are going after extreme artist branding in order to gain popularity. Congrats to them for doing it well. They are vastly different entities, but similar in extremism. Lady Gage is a wonderfully talented musician and Nicki Minaj is a truly talented rapper–I don’t deny either. All I’m saying is, their current act is just that, an act.

This was Nicki Minaj before she was famous (she raps for the first two minutes and talks–if you can call it that–for the last 28 seconds).

This was Lady Gaga before she was famous.

With that said, maybe who these artists are now is what they always wished to be, but were held within the boarders of what seemed “normal” in order to be accepted. Pink wigs weren’t allowed in the Bronx and meat made dresses didn’t seem appropriate in Washington Square Park. It wouldn’t doubt it. All I’m saying is they’ve changed, but–in a very Gaga-esque manner–change is wonderful if it’s for the betterment of yourself, your fans and society.

Stefani continue advocating for the oppressed and we’ll forever be grateful. As for Onika, please don’t slap any hoes with your stacks of money–you can–but it’s frowned upon in the suburban elementary schools where you’re most popular.

An article I wrote on Spring Break.

In less than a month, FAU’s student body will transform from laptop toting, pencil pushing, mid-term cramming kids, to raging spring breakers with sex drive and sunburns. And why shouldn’t they? After eight weeks of quizzes, tests and unnecessarily long lectures, they deserve a vacation.

Whether it’s Bali or the Bahamas, this is their opportunity to show off ripped abs, regretful tattoos and the pickup lines they thought of on the flight there.

• Example: Hey I was just stung by a jelly fish. Wanna get beer and pee on my leg?

Whatever your plans during spring break, remember there’s one thing you always need to be cautious of–babies. I don’t mean the babies that steal purses while you’re swimming–though you should be cautious of them as well. I mean you, having–a–baby.

You’re thinking, “this guy’s nuts. I’m super safe. I’m never going to get preggers.” Take cover, because here comes the bomb.

A study recently posted in the Journal of Pediatric and Adolescent Gynecology, has shown a substantial spike in teen pregnancy during the week of spring break. I bet those new-found parents didn’t plan on getting preggers either, but now they’re hanging out at the maternity section of Marshall’s instead of at the library cramming for a chem test. Think about that as you sip on your strawberry daiquiri.

As for the girls that do get pregnant during spring break, less than two percent of young mothers attain a college degree by age 30. So now you have baby and no degree. Things aren’t looking too bright and I wouldn’t plan on the sun coming out any time soon. Though you can plan on changing diapers–that’s way cooler than a college degree (says no one).

My advice, be responsible during your week away from school. Wear sunscreen to protect you from the sun and condoms to protect you from a son–or daughter.

So blog based giggles have become spread out and I apologize. I’m currently taking six college courses and my life is nothing but reading, writing and studying poems from the late 17th century. Given, I enjoy all the reading and writing (minus some of the poems) but by the time I’m done, the last thing I want to do is write more. Even when the writing consists of me describing my awkward attempts to woo fat girls at my neighborhood Applebees. My brain is fried.

Last week I spent five ten-hour shifts in the library. I say shifts, because studying is my only job. One that doesn’t pay well–by “well” I mean, it pays nothing–actually I pay to do it. I paid a college to studying 50 hours last week and still I’m coming back for more. I must. As enriching my mind with literature, poems and prose is the only way to further my future in writing. It forces me to keep focused. I could keep blogging, but after three years I still haven’t landed that book deal that Julia from Julia and Julia landed in a couple of months.

I knew I should have started a French cooking blog. What was I thinking with this comedy nonsense?

This was originally published by the Sun Sentinel.

With budget cuts close enough to kiss, forgive me for my prudence.

As a current student, I’m both embarrassed and outraged knowing that our senators would push to limit Florida’s intellectual progression. By cutting collegiate budgets you seriously sever the opportunities, growth and gains of our union. We whimper with each state that surpasses us scholastically, yet we jump at the opportunity to impede our own academic advancements. A deficit in our education is a deficit in our community. Higher learning is the ladder to a better future and those who threaten it, do so without regard for our state’s well-being.

Florida is more than sun, fun and Disney financed fairy tales. We’re the 20th largest GDP in the world. As a single state we surpass the economies of entire nations; and it’s only more reason to reinvest in our sustenance. Don’t allow migrant working orange farms to be the symbol of our future, instead boast on our intellect and empower intelligence to triumph and flourish in all of Florida. Let the minds of our youth be the fruit that feeds our economy.

Though young, I will not remain muted to injustice and public overspending for private fiscal gains. Stop crippling our schools and start starving out the political gluttony that originally led our budget to falter. Greed should bear the weight of our financial deficit, not education. An investment in academics is one that pays dividends.

Senators I plead to you, do not cut the hand that holds forthcoming success. But hold that hand for a moment and let it lead our state to prosperity. You’ve made a commitment to better our economy and we’re expecting you to do so. The path to economic progress is through education–there are no shortcuts–don’t let there be budget cuts.

When I heard Chris Brown was performing at the Grammys, I was just as bothered as everyone else that refuses to let a new hit album cover up domestic violence. I understand that people make mistakes–I’ve made plenty. But I haven’t told anyone–other than my penis–”I’m going to beat the shit out of you when we get home! You wait and see!”

Chris Brown you deserve a second chance as much as Jerry Sandusky deserves a job at a daycare. To those that have a different opinion about #TeamBreezy, read the report below and let me know if it changes your mind.

Court documents released Thursday revealed details about the case against Chris Brown, including a police statement that the incident began when Rihanna (real name: Robyn Rihanna Fenty) found a text message on Brown’s cell phone from “a woman who Brown had a previous sexual relationship with.”

A search warrant used by police to obtain cell-phone records related to the case included the sworn statement by Los Angeles Police Detective DeShon Andrews in which he detailed what allegedly happened in the early morning hours of February 8.

“Brown was driving a vehicle with Robyn F. as the front passenger on an unknown street in Los Angeles. Robyn F. picked up Brown’s cellular phone and observed a three-page text message from a woman who Brown had a previous sexual relationship with.

“A verbal argument ensued and Brown pulled the vehicle over on an unknown street, reached over Robyn F. with his right hand, opened the car door and attempted to force her out. Brown was unable to force Robyn F. out of the vehicle because she was wearing a seat belt. When he could not force her to exit, he took his right hand and shoved her head against he passenger window of the vehicle, causing an approximate one-inch raised circular contusion.

“Robyn F. turned to face Brown and he punched her in the left eye with his right hand. He then drove away in the vehicle and continued to punch her in the face with his right hand while steering the vehicle with his left hand. The assault caused Robyn F.’s mouth to fill with blood and blood to splatter all over her clothing and the interior of the vehicle.

“Brown looked at Robyn F. and stated, ‘I’m going to beat the sh– out of you when we get home! You wait and see!’ ”

The detective said “Robyn F.” then used her cell phone to call her personal assistant Jennifer Rosales, who did not answer.

“Robyn F. pretended to talk to her and stated, ‘I’m on my way home. Make sure the police are there when I get there.’

“After Robyn F. faked the call, Brown looked at her and stated, ‘You just did the stupidest thing ever! Now I’m really going to kill you!’

“Brown resumed punching Robyn F. and she interlocked her fingers behind her head and brought her elbows forward to protect her face. She then bent over at the waist, placing her elbows and face near her lap in [an] attempt to protect her face and head from the barrage of punches being levied upon her by Brown.

“Brown continued to punch Robyn F. on her left arm and hand, causing her to suffer a contusion on her left triceps (sic) that was approximately two inches in diameter and numerous contusions on her left hand.

“Robyn F. then attempted to send a text message to her other personal assistant, Melissa Ford. Brown snatched the cellular telephone out of her hand and threw it out of the window onto an unknown street.

“Brown continued driving and Robyn F. observed his cellular telephone sitting in his lap. She picked up the cellular telephone with her left hand and before she could make a call he placed her in a head lock with his right hand and continued to drive the vehicle with his left hand.

“Brown pulled Robyn F. close to him and bit her on her left ear. She was able to feel the vehicle swerving from right to left as Brown sped away. He stopped the vehicle in front of 333 North June Street and Robyn F. turned off the car, removed the key from the ignition and sat on it.

“Brown did not know what she did with the key and began punching her in the face and arms. He then placed her in a head lock positioning the front of her throat between his bicep and forearm. Brown began applying pressure to Robyn F.’s left and right carotid arteries, causing her to be unable to breathe and she began to lose consciousness.

“She reached up with her left hand and began attempting to gouge his eyes in an attempt to free herself. Brown bit her left ring and middle fingers and then released her. While Brown continued to punch her, she turned around and placed her back against the passenger door. She brought her knees to her chest, placed her feet against Brown’s body and began pushing him away. Brown continued to punch her on the legs and feet, causing several contusions.

“Robyn F. began screaming for help and Brown exited the vehicle and walked away. A resident in the neighborhood heard Robyn F.’s plea for help and called 911, causing a police response. An investigation was conducted and Robyn F. was issued a Domestic Violence Emergency Protective Order.”

At the end of his statement, Andrews said Brown sent a text message nine days later apologizing.

“In the text message, Brown apologized for what he had done to Robyn F. and advised [Rihanna's assistant] Ford that he was going to get help.”

I’m live tweeting (I feel like that’s something only Ryan Seacrest should say) instead of doing my homework. But whatever, any chance to make fun of people richer and better looking than me is one I’ll take. These are my most retweeted statuses.

• Six months ago Adele lost her voice, but by the looks of things she kept her appetite.
• Chris Brown’s performance was a hit #ThingsRihannaSays
• Why’s Nicki Minaj dressed up like Hairy Potter? It looks like someone cast a spell on her hair.
• Unfortunately Kanye West couldn’t be here tonight–as per the restraining order Taylor Swift has out against him.
• It looks like Kelly Clarkson and Adele shop at the same buffet.
• Stevie Wonder and Mario Manningham both presented awards with glasses on. Stevie Wonder did it because he sees black. Mario Manningham did it because he is black.
• Yesterday Whitney Houston died, but 10 minutes ago Nicki Minaj killed her career.

Please note that despite what I said about Adele, I think she is beautiful and wonderfully talented. Oh and Kelly Clarkson seems nice.

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