Oh to be old again...

I've become more aware than ever during this break that I will have no trouble transitioning into retirement.  I will not be one of those 'has to be working' types or even a 'has to be doing something in the community' types.  I've been perfectly content surfing the Internet, listening to music, watching movies, playing Wii, reading books, and skiing (my lone physical activity, which will be replaced by golf in retirement).  It just doesn't get old for me - I'm perfectly happy being a consumer and not a creator.

Unfortunately, I have quite some time before I get there (if I get there) but for these next two weeks I'm perfectly happy living my retired lifestyle.

Elephant in the Room

Politics aren't my forte because when I express my opinions, I like to be fully informed on the issue.  For me to be fully informed about U.S. politics would require a lot of effort that I'm not necessarily interested in making at this point in my life.  

But I have been following Republicans' refusal to pass the 9/11 responders bill, which would give them medical benefits/compensation for their sacrifices. Many of them are facing serious health issues because of their heroism on that day.  There's a time to be stubborn and hold out to get what you want, and then there's black-and-white decisions.  

Jon Stewart highlighted their hypocrisy last night.  I mostly watch his show for the comedic/satiric aspect, but I think he excels in these moments where he is able to call out politicians' backwards thinking and flip-flopping.

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Death of a Zombie

The Walking Dead's first season just ended, and while I didn't love the human characters in it, it's pretty cool to have zombies in your living room. As I was watching the survivors trying to stay alive in the zombie apocalypse, I thought about how poorly I would handle this catastrophic event.  This is because...

1) I've never shot a gun, but if my experience in multi-player shooting games is any indication (always last place, always), I would not be a good shot, so I'd probably end up being eaten alive by a zombie even with a gun in my hand.

2) I'm not like fat people where I am constantly thinking about food, in fact I usually forget to eat, but when I do eat I like to know I can keep eating until I'm full. Hence, I would not do well on the can-of-beans-a-day diet.

3) Society never recovers from a zombie attack. So that hopelessness would not help my emotional state, likely resulting in a breakdown where I'd question the purpose of my existence and try to bring others down with me.

4) I have a very strange taste in women and could see myself falling in love with an emo zombie girl and then trying to write a terrible song about our forbidden romance before she fatefully bit me.

♫

I've been digging this song lately and not just because I have a debilitating weakness for female singers.

'Til Sweat Drop Down My...

I have a sweating problem.  Nothing has been able to cure it - I've trimmed my armpit hair, used anti-perspirant (ha!), even avoided talking to girls.

But none of these worked.  It's because my sweating is related to anxiety.  But it's not my anxiety.  I sweat for other people.  Let me explain.

The symbol of the awk

As someone who was nicknamed "Awk" in high school and had a hand gesture to accompany it (see right), I am fully aware of awkwardness in all its aspects.  Today, I believe I have mostly outgrown the "awk" in me, but the experience still dwells within me. As such, I feel deep, deep empathy for "awks" today because I see myself in them.  As a result, I become anxious for them as they stumble through society and end up sweating myself. So other people's social anxiety becomes my social anxiety.

An example to illustrate this: we are presenting our research in my writing class, and this kid today was killing me - "um" after every sentence, shifting back and forth, rapid arm movements, looking down at notes.  It was painful, not to mention he went over the time limit yet was completely unaware of this and still had multiple slides left.  I was dying inside for this poor soul and suffering outside in the form of another wet shirt.

It's just not limited to fellow "awks" though, I sweat in anticipation of or during any potentially awkward situation.  If a professor asks a question and no one is answering, I feel awkward for that professor and might raise my hand to rescue him/her, but in the process actually don't know what I'm going to talk about so I stumble over my words and end up sweating even more.

This is why I wear dark clothing.    

What Really Grinds My Gears: Issue #3

At the sporting events I've been attending recently there has been a common thread - girls being embarrassed to be seen on camera.  

I don't understand this phenomenon at all.  In between breaks in action, the big screen will begin showing various people in the crowd and then a girl will be shown who then proceeds to act like she's been caught just waking up in the morning without any makeup and a nose full of boogers.  Except she's not.  She's usually not ugly either.  She's a normal looking girl who clearly is confident enough to leave her place of dwelling and be seen by the thousands of people she passes/encounters on the way to the sporting event.  Yet once a camera is on her, it's like she's watching a horror movie - hands are brought up to the face, and are briefly lowered before realizing they are still on the screen and they go back to shielding the world from...what?  I just don't understand this.  What is so embarrassing about being shown?  Are girls that insecure?  I thought I had issues.  

Car Troubles

My car currently smells like Ke$Ha after she wakes up in the mornin' feelin' like P Diddy.  I have three theories:

1) A piece of the Spicy Chicken Fillet I ate from Wendy's Drive-Thru dropped into the cracks of my seat and is currently decomposing.  In hindsight, I should only eat McDonald's in my car since their stuff doesn't decompose... (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/10/13/mcdonalds-happy-meal-photos-6-months_n_761364.html)

2) My dog's tight halloween costume (all her fat comments - got another one today - irked me and I wanted to prove all the haters wrong by getting her the small instead of the medium) squeezed something out of her in the backseat that I have not been able to locate (but can certainly smell).

3) I laid the greatest fart in the history of the world.

I'll get to the bottom of this.

In A World Called Catastrophe

You know how people have nightmares about going to school and then realizing they have no pants on?

I have never had that dream, but on Friday I had my own version of that nightmare.

I was in my fiction writing class (in which I am one of two guys in the class, and the other kid always smells really bad which actually makes me look even better) and I suddenly passed some gas.  Audibly.  Panicked, I rose out of my chair and headed toward the door but on the way there I couldn't stop cutting the cheese and every step I walked another one came out.  Loud.  Everyone was laughing and I woke up in a cold sweat.

So now I'm really nervous to go to classes this week.  Because if that happens, or even just one squirms its way out, I will have to drop that class. There is no coming back from that for me.  It would be immediately clear it was me because I know I would go beet red, and I would never want to face those people again.  I am just nervous thinking about it now because I get inklings every now and again but suppress them (I send massive hate to those people who don't - we're in a closed classroom people...have a little shame) but now I'm worried I'll think about the dream, causing me to lose focus on keeping it in and then re-enact my nightmare.  

College.  It's hard.    

Doggy-Style

Today I wanted to take Lily to a dog park where I could let her roam around unleashed with other dogs and I could read Olive Kitteridge outside (it's for class OK...but I'm secretly enjoying it Oprah recommendation and all). I was looking up places, and found a good one within walking distance, but noticed on the comments people complained about owners letting their dogs hump other dogs and laughing about it. These people were very angry, and being the person I am (one who does not like to cause controversy) I kept that in mind when I arrived in the park.

Lily and I arrived to find the park empty, so I sat down and started reading while Lily did dog stuff. Shortly thereafter, two women with their dog came into the park and we struck up a conversation. My gay-dar, usually very poor, picked up that they were lesbians so I made sure to say I was from San Francisco not Utah, that I lived in Russia, not was a Mormon missionary there. Things were going flawlessly. I even didn't mess up guys with gays like I have been prone to do - "So where do you gays...guys live?"

But then Lily mounted Kishka, their dog. And she started humping her. I immediately got up and scolded Lily. Crisis and negative review on Yelp! averted.

But then she did it again. I got up again and pulled her off and then said, "Lily, you can't do that. You're a girl!"

And then it went silent.

Shortly thereafter, they left.

5 Overlooked Things

5 things I think haven't got the public recognition they deserve in the past year:

The Ghost Writer 

I think this might have been limited release or just did not really get advertised despite a star-studded cast (Ewan McGregor, Pierce Brosnan, Kim Catrall anyone?). I don't know what it was - maybe the British actors and Americans using their best British accents scared people off, but this was one of my favorite movies of the past year.  Dirty politicians rarely make for a bad movie, and this one featured took you along for a ride with twists and turns at every corner (and one big twist at the end).  The dark ending especially tickled my fancy.

The Road 

You should a) read this book and b) see this movie - but if you're time pressed I recommend the latter.  The book won a Pulitzer, yet I found the story translated better to the screen.  I love that this story leaves out details that distract from what is at the heart of it - a father-son relationship.  It is about these two surviving in a post-apocalyptic United States but does not reveal how it came to be this way - avoiding the politics that come with that territory and leaving it up to the reader/viewer to concoct their own worst case scenario.  It also makes you reflect and wonder if you'd be the "good guys" that the son and his dad are, or the bad guys who lock people up and eat them.  Oh, and did I mention it has Charlize Theron? (only one of two women I would cheat on my future spouse with)

Better Off Ted

Technically, this came out last year, but just got cancelled this year.  I fail to understand America's taste in comedy (Mike & Molly premieres to 12 million people - really?) but maybe there just weren't enough fat people in this gem. This show made me laugh more than that other workplace comedy that got really unfunny last year.  Phil is arguably one of the better comedy characters in a while brought to life by Jonathan Slavin.  It's on Netflix Instant so watch it. Speaking of another show with a low number of viewers...

Terriers

The best new show in this weak fall TV season (I don't get HBO though, so maybe Boardwalk Empire is).  I have an unhealthy man-crush on Donal Logue, the main character in this buddy-private detective show, that dates back to his star turn in the short-lived but very beloved (by me and not too many other people since it was cancelled) The Knights of Prosperity.  (It was about a group of low-lifes trying to rob Mick Jagger and also featured the beautiful Sofia Vergara now of Modern Family fame - sadly, it's not available on DVD or on Netflix...but I digress).  But Terriers is a really fun show that makes you root for the two P.I.'s, faults/dark pasts and all.

Jake Byrd

Jake Byrd does guest spots on Jimmy Kimmel Live. And he loves famous people.  Basically, he goes to celebrities' court sessions/jail sentences and shouts out his "support" and manages to crash a few press conferences.  He parodies people's obsession to worship the plastic canopy of U.S. royalty. My favorites from the video below are him telling Lindsay to "fight for your right to party" and proclaiming Michael Lohan as "father of the year." 

The Great Indoors

I read this past week that we humans spend 90% of our lives inside buildings. Isn't that depressing?  That is so much of our lives.  And that doesn't even include time spent in the car.  It's like we're never outside.

This is why I am writing this entry outside.  Take that, statistic!

What Really Grinds My Gears: Issue #2

For some reason I can't fill that space above.  Sometimes technology sucks. Moving on...

I first took issue with socks and sandals, my next problem is with...

poorly done signs. This really bothers me for some reason. I have always found presentation to be just as important as content - if I'm going to buy something, it had better look good.  That is why I have to pick a bone with these clueless people who mean well but are really hurting themselves by having poorly designed/executed signs.  Take a look at the girl on the right. She no doubt is establishing herself as an entrepreneur, venturing out into the unknown and scary world that is the street corner.  She has set a fair price for the product that is surely not to keep anyone away.  But the issue is you can't really read the sign.  You would have to squint or drive slowly past it to figure out what it was.  She needed to spend more time on the sign, coloring it in so it would be visible from further away.

But little girls are the not the only victims of this unfortunate predicament. Everyone from homeless people writing out their statement on a piece of cardboard to people advertising their parking on game day to people letting you know about their garage sale.  And as a result, they do not get my business.  Color in your signs people.

What The Dog Said

There are times when I wish my dog could talk.  Things she might say:

"Nick, I'm not pawing at your chair while you're eating breakfast for nothing. I haven't defecated for more than 2 days and now it's hit me like a steam train. Still ignoring me? All right then.  When you go take a shower, I'm going to lay the biggest deuce I've ever laid in your three years of knowing me.  And just to teach you a lesson, I'm going to barf on your bathroom rug."

"Your facial expressions when you're dancing alone in the apartment suggest you think you're a good dancer.  You're not."

"I'm helping you meet females from your building, the least you could do is toss me a slice of that ham you're putting on that ham sandwich."

"(sigh) IAMS again. Remind me why I wake up every morning?"

"I love you."

I would like to know she's thinking - I want to know if she's sick of something, wants to go outside more, or whatever...maybe if she had a blog.

I would feel bad, however, if she could speak because then she could understand the lady who asked if she was pregnant last week.  Thankfully, she wouldn't know Spanish, so she couldn't have understood the other lady who called her "gordito".

Ugri

The Russian word for acne is ugri (with emphasis on the i).  Russian has a few words like this, where the Russian captures the essence of the thing it's describing much better than English - Exhibit B: kakashka (poop).  I have always found the English term to be lacking in conveying the grossness that is acne - I mean ugri is not only fun to say, but it sounds gross.  "Acne" just doesn't cut it.  I mean, it's growths on your face filled with white puss and blood inside.  It's gross.  

For something so gross, however, I like acne.  These growths have been a part of my face since high school (and in the past year, a part of my back).  I, for some reason, am not repulsed by it on me or even on others (acne almost makes a girl more endearing to me).  I blame my mom who would grant favors in exchange for a few blackheads on my nose.  In my opinion - a few minutes of pain + a red nose > doing the dishes.  Eventually, I picked up on her technique and began popping my own zits (now there's a good word...that, and pimple...blemish I'm not so hot about).  Before I knew it, I had discovered a before-bed ritual that I actually liked doing.  

I don't know what it is, but I'm almost disappointed if I look into the mirror at night and don't see a whitehead or a blackhead calling my name.  I think it stems from the fact that I like closure - I'll watch a TV show I like until its last episode//I never leave baseball games early//etc.  Popping pimples makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something - the whitehead is on my face, the whitehead is now on my mirror.  Story over.  Mission accomplished.  Finito.    

Anyways, the point of this post was to bring awareness to those who may not like acne as much as I do that I have discovered the best acne-fighting treatment - a towel.  That's right, you just wrap a freshly washed towel around your pillow and sleep on it.  Think about it.  Your pillow is saturated with the grease of your hair, which in turn greases up your face.  So a clean surface = less acne.  Thankfully I still get enough to keep me entertained at night, but not so much that people make eye contact with my third eye instead of my two eyes.

Now, if anyone has any tips for curing backne/bacne, I am open to suggestions.

     

Music Make You Lose Control

I love when I come across a band that stops me in my tracks and makes me exclusively listen to them for an extended period of time (days, weeks).  Right now, this band is Anberlin.  I think their reign is over, however, since my pre-order for The Graduate just arrived.    

Cerritos

Seen & heard at a park in Cerritos:

A dad with a shirt that said: "An apple a day keeps the STDs away."

A boy who told me "I saw a cat here last time and I almost murdered it."

You stay classy, Cerritos.

Ruthless

So I just got back from a concert.  It was Something Corporate featuring Andrew McMahon back from the dead after beating cancer.  I was really excited to see them and see the self-proclaimed newest venue in LA - Club Nokia.  Unfortunately, moving my sister out of her apartment took longer than expected so I arrived a little late, but the band had yet to start playing.

The venue was a three-tiered floor, and after spotting my friends, I went to join them on the lowest tier.  However, I was blocked by a BFG (read Roald Dahl if you don't know that one) who insisted this level was limited to x amount of people and it was first-come/first-serve and you had to have a certain type of ticket and you needed a bracelet and I really wanted to kick him in the balls and yada-yada-yada.  After trying other security guards, it was clear no one was budging despite the fact the floor was only 2/3 full (if that).  As I pondered ways to get into the pit, the following ideas crossed my mind:

-Follow the short girl who just exited the pit into the bathroom and force her to give me her bracelet (using force if necessary)

-Follow one of the security guards into the bathroom, somehow take him out (I imagined something with my belt and wrapping it around his neck) and putting on his security shirt

-Bribe the guard. This works in Russia, and security guards are just as scummy as Russian cops. Unfortunately I had spent all my cash on parking.

-Was it possible to jump from the upper level balcony into the pit and not break a leg/be seen?

In the end, I had to "enjoy" the show friendless and farther back with a pillar blocking the right half of the stage.  

I had planned to do a blog post about my favorite five things at concerts.  But after tonight's catastrophe I'd like to offer my five least favorite things at concerts.

1) Security. For reasons above obviously, but I've also been annoyed that no security guard has ever known any of the bands they're "protecting" - clearly, they have bad music taste.

2) Obnoxiously long in-between set times.  It does not take that long to tune a guitar.

3) Fat people. 'Nuff said.

4) Tall people.

5) People who are closer to the stage than me yet don't know a single lyric and probably can't even name the band.  They're usually fat too and dragged along by a girlfriend.

Honorable mention: girls with frizzy hair whose mane I always get caught in

***

Oh well, I guess it wasn't that big of a deal.  I'll just see Something Corporate again when they roll into town.  Oh wait...it was a reunion tour.  THEY'RE NEVER GOING TO PLAY TOGETHER AGAIN.

FML

Walking The Dog: Story II

Today, while my sister was walking Lily a woman called her a f*cking c*nt.

Later today, while I was walking Lily, she found a used condom.

LA is polluting my sweet Lily.

There's A Class For This

I hate when you can tell a class will be boring within the first five minutes of the first lecture.  You can just tell from the way the professor reads the syllabus (usually, if they're taking the time to thoroughly go through that thing, that's sure sign no. 1).    

I also hate when the room is deathly, awkwardly silent as everyone waits for the professor to come in and you want to strike up a conversation with the person beside you but you know everyone will be able to hear you and listen in as you ask the person if they remember you from the Writing 140 class you were both in a couple years ago and it turns out they do not remember you at all.  

The Switch

Sorry if you were expecting a post about Jennifer Aniston's latest terrible film.

The rival station to the big radio station here in LA is always playing clips of listeners claiming to have "made the switch" to this rival station.  They claim to never switch the station and listen to this station all day.

Who actually does that?  Are you telling me if commercials come on you're going to stick with that station despite the fact that the other station that plays the exact same type of music is not on commercial?  And where does radio station allegiance even come from?  I like NBC shows, but I'm not going to exclusively watch shows on that network and rob myself of enjoyment on other channels.

It seems stupid to me.  But then again, so does listening to the radio.

Stars

I'm a really big fan of stargazing.  To be clear, my stargazing was not spurred by my obsessive listening of Hayley Williams telling me how she wishes airplanes were shooting stars. 

This summer I would walk my dog late at night and just go lay on the hills of this deserted golf course and look up at the stars.  There's something about looking into that expanse that is really calming and awe-inducing.  It makes me wonder if more people's personal problems could be solved if they were looking up at the stars every night instead of a ceiling fan.  I really want a skylight above my bed in my future house. 

And I really want to be pretending airplanes are shooting stars with Hayley Williams under that skylight. 

Makin' the Bedrock

10 year old bed 

+ 

me body-slamming my brother 

=

Holiday From Real

I just came back from the most refreshing vacation I've been on in a long time. The reason: complete isolation from the outside world.  Vacations are about escaping from your real life, but I've found it's hard to get away from that when you're in a hotel with a TV or at a campsite where you still get coverage.  This past week, I had no Internet connection and no phone reception for an entire week.  It was really nice.  

One, because I got to read.  This always takes a backseat to the pointless hours I spend on the world wide web.  Two, because it was great to focus on relationships and not be distracted by those things that get in the way.  I got to know my extended family even better, and they're pretty awesome.

The only downside was coming back to find my 2 new Facebook notifications paled in comparison to my sister's 99.

Lake Powell. Isn't she beautiful?

Don't be fooled, this wasn't me... 

but this was. We had costume night, and I dressed up as my uncle to the left, who would grace us every day with this number that put the 'short' in swim shorts 


(I had to do some teenage-girl stuffing to fill out like he did however)

You're Boring Me

I wish there was a dislike button on Facebook so I could dislike people's statuses when they post something to the effect of:

so borreeeeeeeddddd

bored. any ideas?

i'M BoReD

I've never understood the idea of being bored.  Especially when you have Internet access (which these people clearly do since they're updating their status).  With the Internet alone you should never be bored - you can chat w/ friends, play games, read about anything, etc. But even without the Internet, how can you be bored?  There are millions and millions of books and movies out there that you can escape into.  Or millions of albums that need listening to.  Or if human interaction is your thing, call up a friend.  

Really, posting that is just a cry for attention. That I would dislike if I could.

MVP Like Steve Nash

Let me start by saying I love Nelly Furtado.  She's Canadian, I lived in Canada. She's gorgeous, I was called a "ladykiller" by a great-grandmother yesterday. She had a kid that nobody knows about, I..

Unfortunately, the closest I've ever come to a Furtado was on a school trip in Ottawa, Canada, where her cousin was our tour guide.  Anyway, I love this video of her performing "Say It Right" at the AMA's (I've probably contributed 50 views to its 1.5+ million count).  Here's what I love about it:

-2006 was Nelly's year.  Everybody loved Loose and all the singles that came with it.  I love the crowd reaction at the beginning - they are legitimately excited to see Nelly at the top of her game.  And for a maintream pop artist, she can actually sing live (paging Ke$Ha...actually, I can't tell if this is live or not...if not she at least knows how to lipsync right - Ashlee Simpson take notes).

-I love when artists slightly change their songs live (notice I said slightly - I am personally not a fan of Gaga's 2-minute interludes of banging on piano keys). In this video, the guy on the left does some crazy sounds, which I think totally give a new dimension to the song.  He plays off Nelly nicely. 

-At 1:57, she almost screams the "you don't mean nothing at all to me" line, which I love.  She actually co-wrote the song, and I can tell that line has some resentment/anger behind it.  

-Girl's got moves.  I don't think her feet move at all during the performance, which would make you think it would be pretty boring, but she captivates me the entire time with her swaying arms & later her dancing which you see just as the...

-guitar solo begins at 3:03.  I love how the guy comes out from the smoke, kind of timid and unassuming and yet completely owns the moment with a wicked solo.  Nice for him to get some glory too.  After watching This Is It and seeing MJ's amazing guitarist, I'm led to believe these artists don't just get your average guitarist to play for them.

I've already watched this another 10 times just writing this. It's so good!

Numbers

So I'm reading the Old Testament right now.  And in Old Testament times, people lived a long time.  Like, a really long time.  Adam - 930 years.  Seth - 912 years.  Noah was 500 when he became a father.

I think if we lived this long, it would totally alter our life perspective.  Don't we become a more lackadaisical society?  We'd put stuff off.  I think it would be great because you wouldn't feel like you're wasting precious time with things that you enjoy but really don't add any substance to your life (TV shows, I'm looking at you).

A downside - puberty lasts longer.  It'd be a bit awkward to be getting spontaneous erections and voice cracks when you're one hundred and fifty. Oh, and school would be at least 200 years - never mind, forget this idea.  I couldn't take that.  

Fads That Were Rad

I wish light-up shoes were fashionable for adults.  But I also wish replaceable batteries were an option so you didn't have to buy a new pair once the original batteries ran out.

I'd still rather wear them than socks with sandals though.

Swagger Like Mick Jagger

You know you write catchy lyrics when you have this kid (who is 3 and can barely talk) letting you know that "the party don't stop 'til I walk in"

The Lone and Dreary World

I've always thought the world we live in to be a bit blasé.  I attribute this to the far-more-interesting worlds created in fiction and films. As a kid, I loved the various scenarios presented in R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series (I mean, how cool would it be if there were cameras that killed you when a picture was taken? That would solve that teenage girl take-a-million-pointless-pictures problem I wrote about below).  More recently, I've been smitten by The Hunger Games - sure, life in the districts would be pretty boring, but how exciting would it be to have an annual televised bloodbath and the chance that you or your brother/sister/relative could be chosen for this?

Anyways, I just saw Inception and when it ended, I walked out the doors sad to leave that extraordinary world and plunge back into our ordinary one.  So I thought about what movies I would want our world to be modeled after. 

Inception doesn't make the list, along with others, because while they appear intriguing, only a select few get to live the exciting life of that particular world.  In Inception, I would never make the dream squad so the best I could hope for is to be the flight attendant that assists in the operation (really not all that exciting).  Lord of the Rings crossed my mind, but I'd probably be a lowly Orc beheaded by Gimli's axe.  The same applies to Harry Potter - it's more likely I'd be a Muggle, unaware of the wonderful wizarding world that exists between a trian platform.  So without further ado, the movies I would like our world to be like:

Groundhog Day

I think this would be my #1 choice - wouldn't it be awesome if one time in your adult life you went through a period where you repeated the same day over and over?  I would say you'd get a 14 day minimum so you can have some fun the first days (you know, kill yourself in different ways) and after two weeks you'd have to risk it because the next day you wake up could have you facing the consequences.

The Truman Show

I think it would be fun to be any of the roles in this movie.  It would be fun to be Truman and slowly come to the realization you're in a bubble, or it'd probably be even more fun to be an actor in his show.  And even if you're a regular person, you get to watch this guy live out his life under your viewing pleasure.

Cloverfield

I just like the premise of this.  I think the lost opportunity our world missed was preserving dinosaurs.  How cool would it be to have these massive things patrolling our forests/mountains and wreaking havoc on our urban landscapes (in rare occurrences of course)?  Or if Godzilla or the Lochness Monster existed?  They would add a smidge of danger to your stroll or swim.

The Chronicles of Narnia

I think it would be cool if everyone had their own "wardrobe" that led to some alternate world, but instead of a wardrobe, it's a furniture item or something so when you're scouring your couch for loose change, you end up finding something else.

What Really Grinds My Gears: Issue #1

Do you notice anything wrong with this picture?

If you don't you probably are a victim of the plague spreading throughout America.  I have been seeing it far too often lately, as seen in the picture above (discretely taken by me), and there is no reason it should ever happen in the first place.

Because no one can ever have a good enough excuse to justify wearing socks with sandals in public.  Ever.

The thought process that goes into this decision puzzles me. As you leave your house, do you suddenly look outside for the first time and realize it's hot so you want to wear your sandals but have already put on socks as part of your morning ritual and don't want to take them off and wash a pair of barely used socks?  Or is it that you don't want your feet to sweat in your sandals?  Or do you laugh at the face of fashion with your non-conformity (when really people are laughing at you)? 

And it's not like it isn't a conscious action either - you don't just slip into those things, you have to strap yourself into those sandals.  And you have to be fully conscious to wear flip flops with socks - you have to put in extra effort to stretch the fabric in order to sandwich your big toe and second toe between the strap.

If this faux-pas ever occurs to somebody you are comfortable enough with to offer fashion tips, pass this one on to them.

Smile For The Camera

If you have sisters that are anything like mine, they think money grows on trees, are not too kind to their parents, and despise any music that isn't played on the radio.

They're also very pretty.  And they love to look at pictures of themselves. Immediately after every picture (or if we're lucky, after all the pictures are taken), they will take the camera, look at each picture and zoom in on their face and judge themselves ("yeah, that one is ugly" "we need to take another one, I look like crap").  Never mind if someone else is blinking or not looking in the picture; if they look good, the picture is given the stamp of approval. Sometimes it feels like they take pictures just to reinforce their beautiful appearance.

My sister has countless Photoshopped-to-the-max Facebook albums of her and her friends doing various poses.  Maybe I should get her that new camera built for selfers for her fast-approaching birthday (http://reviews.photographyreview.com/files/2009/08/tl225_front.jpg)

I long for the days when teenage girls rarely owned cameras, and if they did it was a disposable 35mm version, in which they couldn't see what they looked like (and hence didn't do stupid poses 100 times over).

Keep That Dick in a Box

All the hoopla around LeBron tonight reminded me of a conversation my dad had in the young men's class he teaches at church.  He asked them to name some athletes who excel at their sport.  They came up with three athletes.

Kobe Bryant.

Tiger Woods.

Lawrence Taylor.

Then he asked what made them great at their sport.  I couldn't help but think of another common factor besides hard work and practice that these guys share.

Kobe Bryant - extramarital affair (consensual after some $$$)

Tiger Woods - extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-
                    extra-extra-extra-extra-extra-marital affair (that's 15 extras
                    if you're counting)

Lawrence Taylor - extramarital affair (not consensual and with a minor)

I think the point of the lesson may have been lost.

Speaking of dogs...

I was recently assigned to pick up the dog poop around our yard in preparation for our July 4th party.  A dreadful task to most, I actually don't mind the task because of the love I have for my dog (I mean, just look at her).

This got me thinking about cleaning up other people's tootsie rolls. Which would be a dreadful task to me.  And I assume to most others. There's just not much appealing in the smell and sight of something that has been in your body anywhere from 24 to 72 hours.  And I don't know anyone who reacts positively to finding an unflushed toilet of "kakashka" (the Russians really captured the word in its essence).

As close as you are with any of your friends, you would never want to clean up their crap.  So who else's crap do we willingly clean up?

Babies.  We seem to be fine cleaning up their messes, so what changes?

Well, obviously the babies get older and more awkward around their poop-cleaner-uppers and don't want to be seen naked by them (or worse, see them naked).  I clean up Lily's crap out of love, and I think a parent does it for the same reason.  Sure it's harder to love a child as one witnesses the beautiful baby skin that once was become infested with grease and acne, but any good parent still loves their baby, no matter how old.

So all this talk has led me to a conclusion.  I need to soil myself.  In so doing, I will find out if my mom's love for me is the same as it was when I was a little boy.

***

On a related note...I have always been amazed by dogs' ability to just go on command in the presence of people both known and unknown.  I can barely go alone with the door locked in my own house.  Put me in a public bathroom with people coming in and out, and I'll just pull my pants up and give it an hour before the urge goes away (very unhealthy but it works every time).

Walking The Dog: Story I

I walk my dog every day.  Today, on our walk, there was a pug outside this house.  Lily is half pug, so naturally she went to investigate her own breed and find out how its genitals were smelling.  Eventually, she got bored and we took off.

On the way back home, we passed this same house, except this time there were three people outside with the dog: two teenie boppers and a really good looking female.  Now I'm smart - I realize I have no game with the ladies (possibly because I call them 'ladies') and that a dog can do wonders for me in opening up a conversation.  So the really good looking female and I started talking as our dogs started playing with each other and she asked if I lived in that house down there (she pointed to the correct one, which I took as a sign she had been watching me through her blinds longingly as I walked Lily by her house every day, waiting for the perfect opportunity to meet the nice boy with the dog).  Anyways, as we were about to leave, she asked me how old I was.  So naturally, after answering, I asked her how old she was.

She was 30.  I don't think I hid my surprise very well.  I just couldn't believe it. First of all, I had her pegged anywhere from 18-23, and didn't even consider that she could be the teenie boppers' mom (as it turns out, she's their step mom, probably married to their old, greasy oil tycoon father).  It never crossed my mind that she was married (because of her youthful looks and the way she was talking to me).  Second of all, she asked me my age (and it wasn't in a "oh, how old are you little boy?" kind of way, there was something to it).  You don't just ask that without some motive, especially if you're 30 (and you know the natural follow-up question is for the other person to ask you your age).

So until my next walking the dog encounter with the female species...may I advise one and all: check the ring finger first.

Laptops

I wonder if in the near future we will see a dramatic decrease in male infertility.  I say this as I'm writing this blog post with my laptop on top of my lap, which according to science, is heating up my scrotum, which contributes to male infertility.   

Because I'm sure there are many other males in the world with their laptops exactly where mine is.  With laptops getting cheaper and more accessible (thanks to the smaller NetBook design) and computers becoming boys' toy of choice, I feel the younger generation is going to be exposed to elevated scrotal temperatures over a longer period of time.  My brother has had a laptop since he was 14.  I got mine when I was 18, so his scrotum will have taken a larger beating when he is my age.  Maybe a "Children of Men" type future awaits us, only the males will be the infertile ones.

Or maybe they should rename the laptop.

Haus

I love this house in our neighborhood.  It's all white and then has this awesome door.  It's cool because if you ever got bored, you could just paint it another color.

Salsa con Queso

Have you ever noticed that Tostitos Salsa con Queso only comes in medium? Probably not.

But as an addict of the stuff, I can tell you I have searched many a supermarket in search of mild or hot versions, but have found no such thing to exist.  Which is weird because they have all three versions of their salsa without the queso.  I'll get to the bottom of this.

"The Usual"

My parents recently had a bet.  If my mom won, she wanted my dad to not talk in the car for a week.  If my dad won, he wanted a sexual favor.

This does not paint a favorable picture of marriage for me.  Instead of conversing with your soulmate, you would rather have them mute.  And instead of a voluntary act of expressing love, sex is a forced act, the tragic result of losing a bet

My dad ended up winning the bet and said he wanted "the usual."  I exited the room mortified so I don't know (nor do I ever want to know) what that entails.

Have You Been Counted Yet?

The Census Bureau...not experts in employee fashion.

Can We Pretend That Airplanes Don't Suck

A while back I had a terrible experience with flying United and swore off flying them ever again. I managed to do so successfully until this week when my dad booked flights with "them". And I was reminded again why this airline blows. Not only did they cancel our flight, they rescheduled it for 10 hours later.

Why is it that airlines can get away with postponing/cancelling just hours before? Imagine you you and a friend agree to take their car on a road trip planned months in advance and then at the last minute cancels but lets you know they're available in 10 hours. You would smack that friend across the face.

Which is the reaction I had brewing inside me while all of this was happening. Except it was unclear where to vent this frustration. At the customer service representative on the phone? It's not really their fault, in fact they're trying to help you (albeit doing a crappy job, since we got on a flight earlier through our own research). The check-in people? They tend to bring out the worst in people with the bad news they have to relay, but the flight cancellation wasn't their fault either.

Yelling isn't enough though. Because they wasted hours of my time, there needs to be a way to waste hours of theirs. So all I could come up with was egging their front offices, which would require them to waste hours of their time just like they wasted mine. So next time I'm in Chicago, watch out.

And I won't be flying United to get there.

Completely & Utterly Useless

I hate moments in life that are completely and utterly wasted. In my opinion, this only applies to a select few things. For example, watching a bad movie may seem like a waste of two hours, but really you are able to reminisce about it and make fun of it with others after the fact despite the underwhelming experience at the time. And although I am sure when I am old I will look back at the countless hours I spent on Facebook and see that as time down the drain, I don't see that as a waste of time (yet).

But today, I know that I wasted an hour of my life. Totally. I went to the library and eagerly went through all the CDs, amassing a collection of about 15 after about an hour. As I went to apply for my card, I found out I wasn't even eligible because I didn't live in the county. So there was nothing learned in that hour. There was no entertainment. No productivity. Just wasted time.

Although I guess it gave me a topic for a blog entry...so maybe there is no such thing as a complete and utter waste of time. Hm.

Except for possibly my years of USC football - with the announcement today we won't be playing in bowl games the last two years of my time there, and the lackluster season last year, coupled with my rather boring freshman year with Booty (I missed Leinart and Sanchez), I would say I got screwed on the football side of things (which was one of the motivating factors in my choosing of USC). I guess there's still...women's volleyball?

I do need to rant a little here though. It just makes me angry these guys live the life here and screw over their school and face no consequences. OJ Mayo is still going to play in the NBA as if nothing happened (and both him and Reggie still claim nothing did). Reggie Bush loses nothing and keeps that $100K his family got. I really wish they would take away his Heisman because that would be vindicating, but even then, it's just a statue. I would just love for these guys to be in a dunk tank except I would throw the ball at them instead. At least Reggie got Kim Kardashian taken away from him. Take that sucka!

Little Sister

On my sister's bucket list for the summer:

"hitch a ride somewhere, but we'd have to be with boys so we don't get rapped, and only go a hundred feet"

I guess it's comforting she doesn't how raped is spelled?

Thanks...I guess?

I hate opening presents in front of people. I'm terrible at faking/lying so I know my expression betrays my inner thoughts.

So for my birthday someone got me a business book (I didn't know it was my dad's birthday as well). I tried to flip through and read interesting parts and be excited about it, but I don't think I did a very good job. Even the card wasn't funny (although it tried) so I couldn't even go off that.

Attention Q-Tippers

I am a frequent user of Q-tips - if I don't use them for a couple of days, I can just feel the wax in my ears after a shower. But it was recently pointed out to me that Q-tips are actually damaging to your ears and push the wax further in. My dad just a couple of weeks ago damaged his ear drum from Q-tipping too hard.

And believe it or not, nowhere on the packaging does it suggest Q-tips should be used in the ears. Instead, Q-tips "variety of uses" are:

1) First aid (gently applying ointments and creams)

2) Electronics (cleaning and dusting hard-to-reach places )

3) Baby care

4) Household use/cleaning

So who had the bright idea to stick these cotton swabs into an ear? And how did that become such a preferred method of hygiene despite the fact it is not acknowledged by the producer?

In line with this, Q-tips has also branded itself as the top cotton swab company, to the point that you rarely hear the product acknowledged as cotton swabs, but instead as Q-tips. When I ran out last week, I asked my mom to get me some more Q-tips (I don't think I even knew the actual product name until writing this post). It's the same with Band-Aids (adhesive strips) and Kleenex (tissues). The latter particularly gets under my skin since my dad worked for Procter & Gamble and Kleenex was a direct competitor. I tried to start a trend calling them Puffs, but it never panned out.

Still to this day, however, I won't hand someone a Kleenex - they have to call it by its proper name.

Or Puffs.

:)

Forever Young

So I turned 22 yesterday. I've always looked younger than my age so I've dealt with the growing pains of this "blessing" (as all the old people call it - "oh you'll love that when you're older!") quite well from receiving the kids menu at restaurants to handling the shocked expressions on people's faces when I reveal my age, which is likely 4 or 5 years higher than the figure they were expecting.

But I haven't had any incidents as of late (unless you count being asked for ID at 21+ concerts, which I don't). So it came as a bit of dagger yesterday when my sister told her group of friends it was my birthday and I thought I'd have some fun and ask them how old they thought I was.

"17."

"Umm...no."

"16?"

Ouch. Did she really have to go younger? I have justified her miscalculation as a desire for me to be younger because she liked me. Yeah, that's it.

It still hurts.

Parent Trap

Why is it that without fail parents always come in on the worst parts of TV shows/movies? I can remember this happening throughout my childhood as my mom would walk by the living room, pause at the door, only to witness a racy sex scene in "The OC" or a dirty joke in "That '70's Show" that would leave her commenting how this was a great show I was watching.

And now, today, my dad walks in as I'm watching "Damages" and not even two minutes later the raciest sex scene of the season (with some cocaine thrown in) is shown. There had been nothing like that the previous eight episodes I'd watched! It is amazing how this always happens - to me, at least.

Or maybe it's that you notice the inappropriateness once you have a parental set of eyes watching with you.

Moms Say The Darndest Things...

My mom's response to my inquiry why we needed the windows tinted in the kitchen instead of just in our bedrooms:

"In case your dad and I want to do it on the kitchen table"

To old people everywhere: there are other ways of keeping it fresh.

Songs About Girls

So, a lot of bands/songs I like deal with angst-ridden males penning their feelings against their ex-girlfriends they were wronged by - in fact, as I found out in Kenny Vasoli's case (formerly of The Starting Line, now of Person L) he wrote a whole album about one girl and the not-so-nice things she did to him. More specifically, he flew out to Seattle on his birthday weekend to be with her and arrived to find her pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's child. All this was unbeknown to him and he spent his birthday and the rest of the weekend in a motel. Now that's a pretty good story.

And it made me wonder about these other artists who I enjoy. What are the stories behind Maroon 5 frontman Adam Levine's relationship with Jane which caused him to name an album after her? And what were some of the best deceptions pulled against Chris Carrabba of Dashboard Confessional? I would be so interested to hear these stories and better understand why a girl would lead one to write harsh, unforgiving lyrics like "I'll be your friend in hell, until then I despise you."

First entry!

That was easy.