Sunday, October 30, 2011


Android is a mobile phone operating system (OS) for highly-advanced smart phones. It is maintained by Google, and competes with iOS, Blackberry OS, Windows OS, and oh, wait, just kidding about those last two, but you probably aren't reading the rest of this paragraph because you're on the floor laughing at the mere mention of platforms whose entire distribution equals the population of Gunnison, UT.,1 on county fair days.2

I've used Android devices for the past two years, so I am uniquely qualified to discuss them with you today.

One thing I love about Android devices is their lack of a simplistic, modern, droolingly-gorgeous form factor. People often think that having a rectangular device with all of the beauty of Venus de Milo, and yet, more ability to do things is a major downside in purchasing a phone, which is why Android phones are great ideas.

Android is a great OS, because it lets you install third party applications (apps) on your phone. Even nicer, the phone will keep track of what apps you have installed, then give you helpful notifications when those apps have updates to download.

This is, of course, true, unless it's not true, in which case the phone will forget what apps you have installed, and just never tell you anything. Don't worry, the apps are still installed and running on the phone, you just have to uninstall then reinstall the app if you ever want to update it ever, which is totally and completely fine, because this is not a huge pain in the neck.

Android makes this whole process fun and enjoyable, and you do not find yourself cursing the day with every keystroke, wishing you had just gotten the lousy iPhone your friends are carrying around in cases that look like cassette tapes.3

All of this functionality unfortunately requires lots of power. Lucky for you, Android phones come complete with amazing batteries, which, depending on your model of phone, might last you somewhere in the neighborhood of maybe an hour or two if you're lucky, and less if you actually need your phone. You too should buy an Android phone, and then you can experience the pleasure that is turning off your data connection in order to make it through more than a day with an electronic device with more functionality than a dead brick.

Android also ships with a great navigational system, in which the voice of a dead female zombie yells you through turn-by-turn directions to your destination. Given the power consumption of accurate GPS tracking, this works really well when you're driving a block or two, less well when you are road-tripping, and even less well when you are road-tripping to distant locations and your car power adapter you purchased from China for a dollar suddenly burns out somewhere in Nevada. Let's hope you memorized those directions!

Android is a great choice for people who love the simplicity of a broken toaster packaged up in a device that looks like a rotten banana. I highly recommend you purchase one immediately. Mine, for example.

1. I have some pretty great cousins from Gunnison, and I so rarely give them shout-outs. Go Gunnison! Also, I'm still trying to forgive you for that time you took me to the G "pile of dust" rock and the fly landed on my sandwich and I wanted to puke because flies in Gunnison go places I'm pretty sure no city fly would ever dream of. But I will forgive. Eventually.
2. A good friend of mine works on webOS, which I refuse to insult in any way, given how I still feel terrible for missing her birthday dinner. Therefore: webOS is, of course, the obvious best platform among all platforms.
3. My coworker has one of these. Seriously, that's probably the best reason I've ever heard of to buy an iPhone. It's freaking awesome.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

searching for plane tickets

Along with dancing around on the side of a busy road swinging a sign trying to convince people to eat crummy fast food, living in an apartment with a broken fire alarm that taunts and tortures you by blasting your ears every time you turn on the oven, and listening to me at parties, searching for plane tickets online is an activity heavily featured in certain sections of hell.

Searching for the right plane ticket for your upcoming holiday travel plans is easy when you remember these simple items:

If Available, You Must Take the Direct Route

I don't understand you if you don't do this. If there is a direct option, you are obligated by the code of travelers to take that flight. Too expensive? Maybe you should re-think what you're willing to pay to avoid abject misery. When's the last time you were stuck in someone's armpit for a few extra hours? Trust me, it's worth a few hundred dollars to avoid it. Especially if it's my armpit.

You are Not Allowed to Take More than Two Flights

If there aren't any direct flights, you are allowed one, and only one connection. If you can't get there in two flights, sorry, you don't go. Time to move to Chicago or Atlanta or a real city, or maybe it's time to start traveling to places that aren't located in barren nowherelands.1

Satan Runs the Airlines

Just like Santa Claus, he knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you are eying a flight, so be ready for him to double the price and laugh maniacally at you when you're ready to buy the ticket for goodness sake.

Travel Gnomes Run the Search Result Racket

Found your perfect flight? Search again! The travel gnomes have it now! You'll never find it again! Mwahahaha! They're scurrying away in their green lederhosen cackling through their long white beards!

1. Like, seriously, who does that? Who takes three flights? Why are you even showing me three flights? Is this your idea of a funny joke? Did you all get up this morning and decide to torture all of America? I want to fly eight hundred miles, and you show me three flights? I don't get out of bed for three-flight trips.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

your first clue you should run for your life from this conversation

At any point during your discussion, the following sentence is uttered angrily from her mouth:

"Good thing I'm a college graduate and understand all of your big words!"1

1. If it wasn't the most painful conversation of the year, it's in the top three. Holy cow I wanted to run away and hide and cry for days after she said that, but no, she wouldn't let me! Ohhhhh the misery. You hate me lady! Let me go! All I did was make a pun on your last name! For the love!

Monday, October 17, 2011


There are a lot of little things in the world that don't really merit their own complete posting on The Complete Guide to Everything; either due to lack of humor, or just general lack of material. Let's knock off a few of those now and take you through some definitions.

blind spot

The area to the immediate rear left or rear right1 of a car you are following in which most experts recommend you drive. This is because people have an innate love of being followed by strangers at night, and being unable to see them in order to appropriately express their sincere feelings they are struggling to maintain within themselves without the use of other sincere gestures.

casual carpool

A system organized through a plethora of piƱ utilities wherein complete strangers commute via ride shares. Also known as That Thing Chris Perry Wants to Sign up to Drive, and Then Show Up Dressed as Darth Vader Blasting the Imperial March, Occasionally Shouting Out Quotes Like "I HAVE YOU NOW", or "I AM YOUR FATHER".


Wonderful places to look at art, as long as you like standing in lines, being touched by strangers, and reading illegible scribblings on the walls. Oh wait, that describes so many other wonderful places. Like prison.

customer service phone numbers

Schemes originally invented by corporate America to humiliate, torture, and destroy the soul of man. Also, a popular mode of suicide by boredom.

you can't win 'em all

A nice fatalistic attitude towards life. Less transcendent and instructive when your coworker immediately replies, "not that you were in any danger of that."

iTunes' shared library feature

A good way to get your co-workers to look at you twice every time they pass you in the hall, secretly wondering what kind of twisted person's music library starts with ABBA, ends with Weezer, and includes songs like "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish", "Baby's Got Sauce", and "Pennsylvania 6-5000".


Best day of the week. All of the anticipation of the weekend, and none of the letdown.


The worst city on the planet, full of misery, gnashing of teeth, and endless woe, ruled by heinous demons determined to extract five hundred freaking dollars out of anyone who dare have the audacity to gently roll a right hand turn on a red light.

combat boots

Appropriate attire for wearing around your open office while stomping and smelling bad to cause your coworkers to wish you severe and painful physical damage.


A recently-announced virtual personal assistant for the iPhone, designed specifically for that segment of society that never figured out that wearing a bluetooth headpiece makes you look like a bumbling weenie, who have not yet figured out that while it may be "the future", and "magic", it's also "stupid" to be caught shouting instructions at an inanimate object like a crazy person.2


Places you should all hang out on at 8:30 AM on a Saturday morning, and then call in your best buddies over at Standing Around Drinking Coffee and Scratching Ourselves Road Construction Co. Because there's nothing that makes people happier than spending their entire waking lives refusing to sit in traffic, paying roughly double to spend twice as long on their daily commute in public transit, then finding the one weekend they want to drive somewhere they are greeted by the sight of red lights for miles.


A great middle name to give your son, if his first name is something incontrovertibly MASCULINE, like Stonehammerthrower, or Huntswithrifles, and not something like, oh, I don't know, Chris, lest his brother insist on telling him he has two girl names for his entire life. This is not helped by the existence of an aunt NAMED CHRIS PERRY.3

1. Can't...fight...much...longer...
2. I'm just jealous. I'm stuck with my Nexus SometimesWorks until I can convince my sister to let me weasel out of my promise to not buy another phone for two years.
3. Thanks a lot uncle Roger. Really appreciate you marrying her.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

no post for you!

My apologies for not posting last weekend; I was going to make it up earlier this week sometime, but I'm afraid it was a distinctly unfunny week. I did manage to eke out a tribute to my buddy Jess Berry on her blog, so I encourage you to read that if you want your weekly Chris Perry fix made up.

As further consolation, I provide to you the results of some house cleaning I did last week. I finally went through my files from high school, and boy was that a series of embarrassments, the most heinous of which have been, thankfully, deleted. I was storing a collection of sappy stories, bad jokes, mild-grade Utah heresy, and random videos which are all now likely available on YouTube. What a weird dude I was.

One file that I did delete contained the results of some brainstorming on June 1st, 1999. In those days I wrote occasional articles, some of which were featured in an underground high school newspaper, details of which I cannot remember.

This presents the strongest evidence so far of both my progression as a writer (seriously folks, I think these ideas are probably the most embarrassing things I have written here, and I have written some pretty damning things), as well as the complete undeviating constancy of my obsession with my bad experiences with women.

I wish I could remember the details behind some of these, and I wish I could forget the details behind the rest. Luckily, none of these ever made it into print. Except the women bit. A lot.

Possible articles on:

Why is the sky blue?
Why don't I have a car?
Why don't girls like me?
Why is the Internet slow?
Why do teenagers think they are good drivers?
Why do adults think they are so much better drivers than teenagers?
Is Titanic better than Star Wars?
Why do people like Titanic?
Why do people watch talk shows?
What is wrong with kneeling down when you bowl?
Why do we have St. Patrick’s day?

Oh, and as long as I'm being boring, I'll mention that I've been working on The Complete Guide to Everything, Volume One again, which I have compiled until February of this year. I'm currently shooting for a spring release of next year with fancy new re-written and improved posts. I've got everything set up to launch on the Kindle and iPad. I'll see how that goes before shopping it around to real publishers.

scout camp

Back before I developed a need to be paid more than fifty cents an hour, I decided a good idea would be to, instead of getting a job like my brothers doing landscaping or window washing for pay approaching what day laborers loitering over at Home Depot make, take a job as a big weenie, or, scout camp counselor, at a local scout camp in a nearby canyon. This had the desirable quality of depriving me of any social status I may have inadvertently stumbled across in my childhood wherein I proved again and again that I was too nerdy to even have nerd friends, and had the added benefit of paying me twelve dollars. A day.1

Foreshadowing how good I would be with money in my adulthood, this was an extremely fiscally sound experience. I probably worked 40 days or so over the summer, which means my cash flow statement2 looked something like this:

$480 Wages
($30) Gas in getting rides up the canyon
($6200) Ambulatory services scraping my near-lifeless body off of a canyon road and transporting it to the hospital

But I get ahead of myself.

Being a scout camp counselor is a good idea if you like painting large buildings, lugging trash, cleaning latrines, running into rattlesnakes while hiking, entertaining ten year old boys, or removing bees nests, which activities are all featured prominently in hell, as I am told.

These duties I performed with my usual precision and agility.

On one occasion, the powers that be decided that a night camp would be a good idea. Lacking what is commonly referred to as "common sense", my fourteen year old self decided that I would be able to bike home from the night camp at around ten o'clock without the aid of artificial lighting. This was a good idea up until the cars, by whose light I was navigating the canyon road, and who probably only just narrowly missed hitting my dark and brain-dead self, stopped at a pay station, whereupon I found myself plunged into utter darkness, and, still lacking any form of intelligence, I proceeded down at an elevated velocity.

Unfortunately, I soon found my handlebars in contact with a man's wrist, who was out walking his dog on such a peaceful pitch-black night.

I had to have this part explained to me afterwards, as I remember nothing of the man, or the dog, or even the impact after my wheel was flipped, I sailed over the handlebars, and landed on my head and back, my life being saved by my helmet.

I do, however, remember coming to while a nice lady insisted that I stay lying down as an ambulance made its way there. She had noticed my body in the road, and, in a moment of kindness, decided she would stop, direct traffic around me, and attempt, in general, to keep me living, which the man and his dog declined to do due to their understandable antipathy towards me.3

Upon arrival, the EMTs shifted my body onto one of those neato yellow stretchers, then loaded me into the ambulance. I was really annoyed by them, because I kept complaining about how much the back of my head hurt lying there on that hard plastic stretcher, and I asked for a pillow or something to be put under me, as it felt like knives were shooting up into the back of my head. They just sort of nonchalantly ignored me and took me in.

I knew I was in trouble when the admitting doc took a look at me and said, "oh, look, they were really nice to you; they gave you a pillow!"

These are not words you want to hear.

In any event, after a few scans, a few pukes, getting laughed at by my family for my stupidity when they came to pick me up,4 a very prolonged concussion, the formation of a large dent in the back of my skull, the loss of approximately 30 IQ points and any talents I may have had (explaining my current inferiority to my family members) and about a week of dizziness, I was able to return to my enviable duties as a scout camp counselor, and have never biked down that canyon in the dark ever since, mainly because I'm afraid that dude and his dog will be out there, trying to find me to sue me for damages.5

The following summer, my father, for reasons I was not able to completely comprehend until this precise moment, and who is much better at math than me, calculated his expenses from the last summer's fiasco, and decided he would be better off paying me thousands of dollars to sand his deck at snail speed and build a retaining wall that would promptly collapse and fall down a hill, than letting me take a real job and risk paying for another ambulance ride for his uncoordinated son.6

1. This is one hundred percent true.
2. Aren't you proud of me?? I just remembered a term from not one, but TWO accounting classes I took.
3. The woman, by the way, was a complete saint, calling the ambulance, calling my family, and taking my bike back to my home. I wish I could find and thank her today.
4. Again, one hundred percent true.
5. A good friend of mine from that time contacted me the other day; hence the inspiration for this week's post.
6. Ambulances are completely foreign to my father. He had a heart attack once while running. AND THEN FINISHED HIS RUN AND DROVE HIMSELF TO THE HOSPITAL. There is simply no attempting to claim any form of masculinity around this man. He is a machine.