February 24, 2012 - Befriending a Man, as a Man

Moving into a relatively unfamiliar city, comparatively far from your alma mater or hometown, brings about some challenges. Most of them easy to accomplish; moving in, assimilating into a new culture, acquainting yourself with a metro system, or lack thereof. Then there are your more difficult challenges such as finding a grocery store with produce that doesn't look like it was used as a sporting tool, handled by feet, in a third world country. Another difficult task, finding employment, if you were dumb enough to move somewhere without any prospects. The hardest of all, and it relates only to the less fairer sex (males sadly), is befriending guys.

There was a film in 2010 that shines light on this topic called I Love You Man, starring Paul Rudd and Jason Segal. A truly hilarious flick that captured the awkward, humorous, and challenging act that is, the "man-date."

I moved to Washington, DC in the end of 2010. I sort of got myself into a rut by working late, going out solely with my roommate whom was a college buddy, and traveling. In one years time, I realized that I had acquired about 4 friends, two of which were gay and had moved out of town to a small town in Missouri, I would be interested in following up on how that is working out culturally. Regardless, I found myself in Rudd's (pistol Pete) situation.


It is honestly an awkward thing to do. I have been sarging girls as Neil Strauss would call it, since I was four years old on the playground, telling girls their chin looked a little chubby when I held the sunflower underneath it. Getting girls to come home with me, or at the very least adding her number to my roladex of female contacts was simple, but the game changed when it came to a "dude." I found myself getting worked up about asking a guy for his number because I had enjoyed the conversation at the bar/house party/book store. I was over-thinking a very common question, "Hey man, nice to meet you, we should get together and grab a drink sometime." I felt like when I said it to myself it sounded like I wanted to see what he was working with down by the belt area, thinking left or right hanging? While this was most definitely not what the guy would think, it was what my hyperactive thought process was repeating back to me.

I would make it worse by adding crude comments into the question to deliver the fact that I was not gay. Not that there is anything wrong with being gay, but I really did not want him to think I was in fact interested in poking his tonsils with my member. Comments starting coming out of my mouth like, "Hey man lets get together some time, fuckin' drink some beer and go hit on bitches." Not only is that comment uneducated, vulgar, and unpronounced, but it was totally unnecessary. He would have given me the number anyways, but now he just thinks I am a sexist freak who may be fun to hang out with, in dirty dive bars.

I have since then gotten over this hurdle and have bolstered my list of guy friends in Washington, DC to call up and go out with. This is much needed when assimilating into a new city. So if you are someone grappling with this struggle, just relax, shake hands, exchange numbers, then go our sarging together. You may want to pump the brakes on the man-hug during the first meeting. Rest assure that after a night out, and and empty bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, you will be dancing, hugging, and sarging the night away like you were friends for 12 years.

Here's to bromance!

Friday, February 17 2012 - A couple things to rant about

I usually digress from straight ranting about happenings in my life. Mostly because I fear people just will not care, and secondly because there is very little I can do in the way of changing the act, event, or person. That being said, I am going to rant about two things this afternoon.

1. The eloquent use of curse words.

While walking the .7 miles I do every morning to reach one of two fairly clean, but boisterous buses I take to work, I passed two young men having a discussion. Unfortunately I was not tailing them and only a passerby, so I have no foreword to this comment that came from gentlemen one.

"That shit is true as fuck!"

Now, any upstanding citizen who is even a novice at the English language would take this to mean; that(unknown noun or identity) fecal matter is correct and/or accurate as two people fornicating or engaging in the act of coitus. While I would like to go crazy hearing this, I guess all I can really conclude from this comment is that a) whatever he was referring to was sincerely and passionately correct, and hopefully not a virgin b) the young mans vocabulary is dominated by the curse word section of the dictionary c) he does not care what anyone thinks about his conversation, other than the one other man listening.

I am not completely innocent here and have probably contributed to the death of the English language similarly to the way these two fun-loving, want-to-be-gangster studs did. Not saying its right, and we should make an effort to correct these corruptions on speech, regardless of how free we have made it.


2. Grocery Self-Checkout Incompetence

I had the pleasure of waiting 22 minutes in a self checkout line to purchase my groceries last night, a checkout option that is supposed to expedite the shopping process. I usually avoid this option merely because I like to have some social interaction and try not to encourage the fact that we are swiftly moving to an age where everything is run by robots.

My point is simple. If you are unfamiliar with the self-checkout system a) do no use it during a high volume shopping time, and b) ask questions. There really should be a sign that says if you have not used a self checkout before, please do not attempt to do so between the hours of X and X. There is not however, and everyone has access to this regardless of time, line length, or incompetence.

Last night, I stood in line waiting for one of the four machines to become available. I was only buying coffee and airborne. I waited 22 minutes as only one machine was available. Of the other three machines, one was broken, and the other two were occupied by two complete and utter morons. I witnessed exhibit 1.01. attempt to weigh his red bell peppers eleven times. Not only did he not set it on the scale properly, but red bell pepper are not even charged by weight, they are by quantity. I was shocked that by try 10 he still did not ask for assistance, just kept going. Wailing away. The only good thing about this story is that he actually gave up, took his groceries with him, and did not pay for them. Perfect.

Exhibit 1.02 was a horse of a different color. She was able to scan and package all 6 of her items, which was basically only boxes of microwave dinosaur oatmeal, but struggled with the payment portion. It took her three tries to get to the part where she slides her maxed out credit card, then realized she does not know the PIN number. Guess it was not a credit card, moron. She tried it 7 times. The women who works there finally intervenes and asks to help. At this point she says she is going to try again and the employee states that after 3 tries your card is void and the order is canceled. This means that this catastrophe could have ended 4 tries ago, or 16 minutes (whichever you prefer).

All of this kept me from making my 8pm french press coffee and chasing it with an effervescent beverage of dissolved airborne. Thus keeping me from boosting my immune system to be able to handle the disease and stupidity roaming around the grocery store.

Rant.

Thursday, February 16 2012 - The Past

The past is obdurate. As it should be. It would be fantastic if we could change the past or go back and change our mishaps or mistakes. Not fantastic in the 21st century use, often saying something is marvelous, or riveting, but fantastic in the sense that it is nonsense, unfathomable, unobtainable.

If we could change one thing, we would probably change everything. We would most likely, and habitually change every single thing we have done over and over again, even if at the time we thought it was perfect. Things are never perfect, but the past is obdurate. It simply does not want to change, and will work as had as it can do achieve its goal being, well...obdurate.

This whole concept was launched into a full mental thought while reading Stephen King's new novel 11/22/63. He repeats the statement that the past is obdurate, not malevolent, but obdurate, repeatedly. The main character in the book is launched back into 1963 through a rabbit whole to save JFK from assassination by Lee Harvey Oswald, that is . During his travels he encounters many setbacks that confirm the fact that the past simply does NOT want to be changed.

It got me to thinking. If I was to go back in time and invest in Yahoo in 1995, a year before the company went public, what would happen. Would I be able to hop into my Delorean with the nutty professor sporting a Micheal J Fox letterman jacket and everything would be easy as pie, positive-speak? Doubtful. Would someone steal my wallet? Would I miss the cab on the way to meet my accountant or investor. Would my wife, assuming I might have had one, get pregnant, drain me of all my cash on medical bills so that I had nothing to invest, and then go into labor on the IPO date. Probably.

Do things as close to "right" the first time, carry on. Dwelling on the past, and decisions made is not only futile, but insane. What can you do? Find a rabbit hole? Maybe...however you will most likely be faced with an absurd amount of adversity. Why? Because the past is obdurate, and you will most likely enact a butterfly effect that has less that pretty wings. I would even venture to call it the caterpillar effect; a much uglier version that sort of wiggles through peoples lives and leave things hairy.

Invest in a stock, and don't stare at the ticker all day. If you cheat on your spouse/girlfriend, don't pop a xanax and take seven showers to cover yourself up in worry, she'll found out, but you made that decision for a reason, its probably not meant to be. If you take a left turn and you think it should have been a left. Keep driving, find a gas station, ask someone for directions. Stop asking Siri or google maps and engage in some social interaction for once. The problem will be fixed quicker, as opposed to finding a god damn rabbit hole inside your SIM card in the phone you dropped in the bottomless floorboard of the passenger side, and going back in time. Ever realize how hard it is to find something on the floorboard of the car when you drop it? I basically just consider it gone.

The past is obdurate, don't dwell. If you are lucky you will be faced with the same choice in the future, which is much more malleable.

Vegan Cuisine and Elite Conversation

I have to admit, coming from a University who prides themselves on knowing all the words to lollipop by lil wayne and I love College by Roth while habitually drinking 5 nights a week with countless additives, I did not expect to enjoy myself Friday.

I was invited by a friend of a friend to a house gathering, a Salon if you will, that was both non-alcoholic and Vegan diet orientated. I think there was a four year span of my life that my entire diet was Burnett's vodka, frozen hamburger patties, and Tostitos con queso dip. I wish I was kidding. The party was in a crowded third floor apartment, garnished in an eclectic decorum. It was a two-bedroom apartment but populated by three. The living room was overwhelmed by large pieces of furniture and a coffee table which held a proper amount of food, but took up way too much surface area.

I enjoyed myself.

I got to focus on one of my resolutions which was to pay attention and remember peoples names. I am often too self-centered and focused on a sexy delivery of my own name, that I completely and instantaneously forget the persons name who just introduced themselves. My conversations were elaborate, accurate, and detailed. I felt I delivered any argument that I presented, whether right or wrong, with distinction.

Although I fear I may have been the only attendee who has purposely gotten past "just the tip," everyone was extremely warm and friendly, slightly pretentious, but probably rightly so. The vast majority graduated from an ivy league school, and spoke with a proper tongue. I did not find this at all discouraging and just stood my ground in the art of conversation. One girl asked me who my ideal candidate was for president, an unavoidable conversation in light of the GOP primary and releasing the fact that I work in the realm of politics. I responded with a desire to see a younger Ron Paul who realizes that you can't privatize TSA, that looked like JFK and moves like Jagger. She liked this response.. you never know if you are going to get a bleeding heart liberal, a communist, or a pro slavery advocate in a room like this. Regardless, you walk the line.

The food turned out to be pleasing, simple, but enjoyable. There was semi-sweet chocolate/raspberry tart cake, guacamole, vegan cheese (not sure what the hell that is made of), and tea. The tea was bland, but the company was grand. All-in-all it was nice to remember a group of peoples names, walk away slightly more educated, have a few new phone numbers in the iphone contact list, and not go hungry. Not to mention I was much more productive the next day after not waking up to a splitting headache, the stench of dry whiskey on my breath, and a girl name Sadie who I thought was Jessica.

R

February 9, 2012 - I Just Don't Think I Like You

Ever sit back and think for a while about someone you recently have decided to spend a lot of time with and ask why? Then at the end of that thought provoking, and self-enlightening exercise, you realize, you pretty much hate everything about them.

I came to this realization this morning. The thinking exercise took place just after I had written down three things I was grateful for that day, an exercise that I do every morning. I was on the treadmill listening to non-lyrical music, which allows me to think. With lyrics I concentrate on the words and not on my thoughts, so this was good. I started thinking about this girl I have been spending 3 nights a week with, and with my schedule that is a significant amount of my free time. Cigarettes are smoked from time to time, which insanely grosses me out. I have smoked about 10 cigarettes my entire life and would rather suck on a shit flavored jelly bean covered in cat hair.

First things I thought of were sexual and physical. I did not find a whole lot of negatives there, which is why I am probably still somewhat engaged. However, I did think that I could do better, looks wise. As a partial narcissus I just believe that I should have something on my arm that is fairly impressive. This girl is not bad, but its like Tiffany's compared to Harry Winston. Who is going to get a Tiffany's ring and say I am glad its not Winston? No one, just like someone is not going to say "gee, this Harry Winston 3K diamond ring for roughly $87k is nice but I would have rathered the $4k Tiff ring. Won't happen.

So put that to rest because we all get old, mostly lose our looks gradually, and in the scheme of things it hardly matters. Good sex ranks higher than looks. I started thinking about the things we do from day to day. How we spend out nights, about what our governing values are. They are all different. Our schedules dont match, our sleeping habits are polar opposites. Working out at the gym for the internal benefits do not occur to her as they do me.

I don't like this person, and our governing values do not match. Things could never go anywhere. Why am I still in? Such a loaded questions. It is ironic since Valentines day, the holy fucking hallmark holiday of the year is coming up fast. There is a high likelihood that in lieu of my recent revelations that I will savagely cancel plans at just about the last minute. Hopefully she will get the point. I mean she can't want to truly be with someone like me, when I feel this little. This should be considered a valentines gift, not a shattered popsicle heart.

Tough love it is, wouldn't be the first time I was called an asshole.

Monday, February 6, 2012

For my good, good friend on his 25th Bday. Aaron Kerzner.

Remember that summer when we became brothers
Over Yellow Tail and nett drops, the corner of Almeida Bus stops
We carried ourselves like a couple of wino's
Two punch drunk kids, tanned up, the polar opposite of albinos

Boat trips with Baby Bowen, who broke his toe from straight towing
You tried to body surf 'lake fall river,' with a shattered up liver
Night trips to Club Gils and a cocktail at the anchor
That fucking place sucked, not even one tiny rager

There were time swhen we laughed and times when we cried
Times when we left people mystified
By the fact that two men, of a medium weight
Could polish off 3 bottles, and be in less than a beligerent state

Regardless of the amount of things, events, and times I cant remember
Ill never forget some moments that we spent together
You have stuck by my side, when nobody should
Told me to go and fuck myself, and knew the would

From the knee punish to the bottom of the bottle
I hope you know that I will not betray
A friend like you that has been there in so many ways.

So happy birthday brother, I know it was belated.
But you had to know, on my 25th b-day I was busy getting felated.

February 3, 2012 - The Facebook Profile shot

The mother of all photos. The "go-to." The one photo you call home. Your money shot. The picture that you display the the 800 Million people associated with facebook, to represent you. The profile photo.
Even if you have super savvy, government protection, CSI shit security settings on your facebook, someone, anywhere in the world can find you on facebook. What is shown? Just your profile picture and a message that says, "this person only shares certain information with certain people."

Check out young Kim Jung Il to the right here. There was a time where Kim, KJ, as his boys call him, actually sat back at his Tobisha laptop, and said, "yes, this is the picture I like of myself the most." "This is what is going to bring the chicks, well and maybe dudes, we have to stay politically correct here, in. Why? The answer is simple, "I am wearing a vintage whale tooth necklace which is not obvious but the rope chain that its connected to, gives it away, so that subtle. My hair is cut JUST right, with a fade into the little bit of facial hair I could muster up after 3 long months of growing it out. My brows are waxed, my lips are pushed out a bit, and yes! Oh fuck Yes, the wink is just perfect. Not too hard, not too soft, but fucking focused. I look good. This is the one"

"I'm sexy and I know it." This champion decided to go with the vintage lazer background. A bold strategy. Not sure if anyone else recognizes this background design but I remember it being the most popular choice amongst my classmates in 4th grade. Ultra sleek, matches with absolutely none of anyone's outfits, unless they are E Fucking T.

To add injury to insult, this guy decides that contacts are a bad idea, and so are glasses that were made prior to WWI. Mcfly here must have been sitting in his pleather chair looking at his Compaq desktop circa 93' resting on his two tone first edition IKEA desk and said: "This is it. Do you know how many bitches I own? If this doesn't bolster my okcupid.com sexiness level, I do not know what will. Ill throw this kitten, who is not only ugly as fuck, but is most likely photo shopped into the picture and I'll just be Chuck Sheen winning. My hair is perfect, I have not cut it since this background was cool, and my sweater makes me look like my dad, who got my mom, so he must have been doing something right. Yup, this is it." #cathuggerforlife


Seriously, keep these coming.

February 2, 2012 - Birthdays

Growing older is fine as long as you you don't really look older, and your health isn't failing. You never really feel all that different, even though I hit the quarter century mark today. 25 really has no other significance.

I have realized that there are all kinds of people who come out of the wood work to wish you a happy birthday, and they do it in their own way. Acquaintances post on Facebook, college alumni do the same. Family send gifts, cards, and flowers, friends will send you a text. Best friends will call, and they wont leave a message. It actually matters if they talk to you or not and a voicemail just won't do. The best of friends may even come visit you that weekend when you are 1000 miles away.

There are always surprises though. Old girlfriends text, when you thought they hated you. Co-workers forget that you even exist, more than regular days. Maybe you only notice this because its the one day a year your float on this fictitious omnipotent cloud, and feel everyone should be feeling lucky to have been graced by your presence.

Some friends, call you up, and do leave a voicemail, because they are not really "talk on the phone friends." This leads me to believe they probably want something from me in life, or are trying to better themselves, call me cynical if you will. Regardless of your reason for sending your "best" and the method that you use to do it, I appreciate it, and enjoy the flattery.

I have learned a few things over the past year that I think are good to write down. Not for any other reason but to remind myself that I am human and ever changing. To remember that each year is not the same, and that each year is a fortunate year to have lived, and to have done it well. I learned this year:

Buy Good Toilet paper - You will regret cheap toilet paper, and guests will take notice.

Buy organic or cage free eggs, for a dollar more, you improve your health and discourage bad business practice.

Don't lie about the small stuff. I agree that there are times to conceal the truth, but work hard at being honest, people will thing you have lost sight of what matters if you don't.

Call your parents, grandparents, and family. They want to hear from you. As you move further and further away from their world, its important that they know you are still on a related planet, and you love them.

Dry Clean your suits.

Read and write often. Reading takes you away from the monotony of every day life, brings you into a world that is not your own, get your out of your head, even if for just a few minutes. Writing lets your open your mind to creativity and take an attempt at the abstract.

Listen to people names. Think about how many times you have walked into a group and introduced yourself and instantly forgot the persons name when they disclosed it. Don't forget. Repeat that name as many times as you can, remember them. They will remember you.

Above all; save a little, live a lot, love more. Money can only take you so far, life is devastatingly short not to enjoy, and love only comes so often. There is such thing as a regret, and the only way to overturn it is to go back and do it.

Thank you all for your birthday wishes. I will be making the most of the most.