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.