Jarod Kintz
This is it, this is my biography. The story of Jarod Kintz begins now.
Let’s knock out the trivial first. I was born in Salt Lake City on March 5th. Now that you know my birthday, please feel free to get me birthday presents. Notice how I used the plural, presents? More than one gift would be greatly appreciated. Appropriate gifts include gold coins, bars of silver, and large tracts of land (preferably beachfront property). Or you could just buy me a drink—soda, natural, because I don’t drink either alcohol or high fructose corn syrup.
Skipping ahead a few years, and a few hundred miles, we come to Denver, Colorado. For a few years I attended Mackintosh Academy. In the second grade, along with English, I studied French, Spanish, and Japanese. Out of all those language classes, I remember one word: Andrea. That was my girlfriend at the time, the one who left me for my best friend. I guess I remember two words, as I remember his name too, but his name is almost sacred, as a name that shall never be uttered.
Right after second grade ended my family moved to Jacksonville, Florida. It was Jacksonville that I would come to know as home, and would attend the rest of my schooling until college.
At this point I was a mediocre student. I believe I had a perfect 2.0 grade point average from third grade until I graduated from high school. My favorite classes were art, P.E., and lunch. Oh, is one of those not a class? No way—I believe art is still considered a class.
When not cracking jokes in class, I would be doing one of three things: drawing, passing notes, or sleeping. In high school I started to not only be mentally absent from class, but physically gone too. I’d skip class like a flat rock skips across a pond.
After high school, it was on to college. In all I have attended six colleges. I bounced around like a dodgeball on a trampoline. If you count the college classes I took starting my junior year of high school, then I got my four-year degree in nine years. And if you’re going to do something, you might as well do it at least twice as well as everybody else—or at least at least twice as long.
I graduated with an English degree from the University of Florida, but I took creative writing classes from both UF and Florida State University. All though college I fancied myself a fancy man, because I was an aspiring writer. Mostly I wrote t-shirt slogans and other pithy things. In the spring of 2005 I did manage to sell a line of t-shirts to Urban Outfitters.
That is my lone success in life. Seriously. Well, so far anyway. But my story is just beginning. I plan on failing my way to success. I have been rejected by literary agents, publishers, MFA programs, all sorts of women. But still I keep writing.
I have written many “books,” and I use the term books loosely. Mostly they are just compilations of my random thoughts and one-liners. But I like writing them, and people seem to like reading them. and that’s what it’s all about, right?
All my books are self-published, either through iUniverse or the wonderful Amazon Kindle program. I encourage everybody to write. Share yourself with the world. If there is one thing I like to impress upon people, it’s that you can do it, even if you can’t. Just keep can’ting until eventually you can. And you can quote me on that.
“I often feel like a camel in the mountains, and a goat in the desert. Ah, but that’s life, no?”
“The elevator wasn’t empty; it was full of fragrance. The perfume that lingered smelled like my past. Starting tomorrow, to focus on the future, I’m going to close my nose with a clothespin. One day, probably the day after tomorrow, people may regard me as a fashion visionary. Ah, but that’s life, no?”
“I made love to a woman on a boat once. It was still on the showroom floor, but the way I rocked it made it feel like the ocean. Ah, but that’s life, no?”
“If frogs tasted like chicken, I’d gladly jump in the frying pan. Ah, but that’s life, no?”
“The other day I tried to design a finish line, but I didn’t know where to start. So I just sat there and drank Gatorade. Ah, but that’s life, no?”
“Last week I placed a hand-written sign in front of my neighborhood that read, “Lost Mustache. Please do not feed. If found, contact Mouth,” and I left my phone number. Nobody’s called. Perhaps the neighborhood cat lady took it in and is petting it on her lap at this very moment. Ah, but that’s life, no? ”
“Murdering a mute to silence him is overkill.”
“I saw the corpse, and I called the cops. But not before I called a 1-800 phone sex number with the dead guy’s phone and credit card.”
“I saw an old guy sleeping, and I thought he was dead. But I kept checking his pockets for money, because it seemed like the right thing to do.”
“I’ve got washboard abs. Go ahead, get rid of your dishwasher.”
“I’m an anti model. I’m not posing, I’m imposing.”
“I’ve spent half my life searching for the truth. The left half of my life.”
“My printer printed off blank pages. Is my printer out of ink, or do I just have nothing to say?”
“Richard Dawkins can suck my Dickens.”
“If you’re wearing a space suit, I’ll take a unicrescent sandwich; hold the mayonnaise—and the moon. (But don’t hold it in your hands.) Let us dance like the moon is hollow and inhabited by beings of light who give off enough energy so I can be a night nudist.”
“I’d rather own something that’s worth millions to nobody, than something that’s worth nothing to millions.”
“Is the only reason you get out of bed because you can’t sleep anymore? I’m like that sometimes.”
“I killed a flea this morning. I may have been a bit overzealous, because I accidentally killed the cat too.”
“Flatulence is the international language. Speak it with your anus. Hear it through your ears. Listen through your nose.”
“Quiet night. Silence at full capacity. Noiselessness is spilling over like a coffee cup full of jock cock. In a contact sport I’ve got to protect my genitals.”
“The mobster came by my establishment and said I needed protection. “Nope,” I replied, “I’ve already got protection.” Then I showed him how I wear a rubber glove over my penis, with my shaft sliding perfectly in the pinky finger slot.”
“I used his severed hand as a murder weapon. I hope I didn’t get my fingerprints on his fingerprints.”
“May you fall on a fork and get eaten by a cannibal.”
“Getting struck by lightning is like winning the lottery, except of course, not as lucky.”
“I’ve got my hair conditioned. It’s not trained, but it is soft.”
“A real criminal mastermind isn’t known as a criminal mastermind, because how good can you be if you’re a known criminal? No, a real criminal mastermind is known by another name: politician.”
“I need to take an exfoliating bath. Prepare the kittens’ tongues.”
“Burn my eyebrows and call me Bette. But if I’ve got eyebrows, don’t call me Bette—call me Davis. Then let’s make love like The Bad Sister.”
“If I knew beforehand that I’d need a good backhand, I’d never have taken up tennis. Or bitch slapping.”
“I’d like to write a screenplay about my grandpa, and I’d like my future grandson to play the part. Talk about a mindfuck!”
“Me and a group of friends meeting in private to bond and have fun may appear to outsiders as a shadowy secret society plotting to take over the world. But that’s utter nonsense. That group meets on Sundays, and takes place in the sunshine, where nobody will suspect the sinister nature of our plans.”
“I’ll take away your disillusionment, and replace it with an illusion.”
“I’m running late. But that’s OK, because I’m wearing Nikes.”
“I want to go to the Olympics. But I don’t want to train, so who’s going to buy me a ticket? I also don’t want to ride on a train, so airfare should be included.”
“I need to condense my adrenaline, carbonate it, sweeten it, and sell it as an energy drink.”
“Women won’t sleep with me for the same reason that I don’t pay for sex—I don’t have any money. And if I did have money, I wouldn’t pay for sex, because women would sleep with me for free.”
“Most people live life backwards. They party and kill time in their youth, when they’re strong and have the energy to accomplish great things. And then they’re older, they try to get things done, but they have less energy and enthusiasm by that time.”
“I’d never trust a surgeon who didn’t wear gloves when he operated. Even if those gloves he didn’t wear were boxing gloves. He might as well, because I know he’s going to beat me up over the price.”
“There was fried chicken in the litter box, so I helped myself and took a shit. I am a cat lover and a fan of KFC. I always take mine to go.”
“One plus love equals lonely.”
“I used to live with someone of the opposite sex. It’s called a sister, and I don’t have one.”
“I can scratch “scratch myself” off my list of things to do.”
“My name is Ron G. Am I wrong?”
“Kindly remove your shoes from my bullshit.”
“Sometimes I write about the forest, sometimes I write about the trees, and occasionally I’ll write about the lumberjack. Actually, the lumberjack is more the editing part, figuring what needs to be cut.”
“In the future, I’ll be furniture. Step on me now or sit on me later, but either way let me know how I can make you feel comfortable.”
“There’s always going to be a criminal element in the population. At least as long as people believe they need politicians.”
“I thought I did, but I guess I didn’t. But I did think I did, and it’s the thought that counts, right?”
“Instead of a motorcycle, why not ride a custom-engineered unicorn? The unicorn could be genetically grown like corn.”
“What I want more than a car that goes from Point A to Point B, is a car that stops. I make it a point to break for love. My horn is broke—and so am I, but I get paid Friday.”