My brain works best in the shower. Last night I used it until the water ran cold. Why? Unfortunately, I was deep in thought. I say unfortunately because the thoughts I had were useless, but intriguing nonetheless.
I thought about super powers. To me, it seems like they should be available, but only with strict limitations. As a prelude to these thoughts, I do want to note that I understand the principle core definition of a super power is to be exactly that: Super (without limitations). But for the sake of explanation of my thought process, just hear me out.
How super powers should work for everyday human beings, in theory:
Telekinesis – Your power of telekinesis should only be as strong as your physical ability permits (i.e. if you can physically push a 100lb rock, then you will mentally be able to push it as well). Similarly, if you cannot push a stalled Honda Civic down on a slight incline by yourself, neither can your mind. However, your radius for said telekinesis will only be able to function within a ten yard bubble (or ten meter, depending on what country you were born in) from where you stand at any given time.
Teleportation – Your destination of teleportation can only go as far as you can physically see. Your best bet to travel long distances would most likely be to teleport from a tall location. In addition, your teleportation refractory time should be as fast as your orgasm refractory time. I think that’s only fair.
Invisibility – You should only be able to be as invisible for as long as you can hold your breath. Exhaling in any way starts to fade your body back into sight. By the time you need to inhale again, you are fully visible.
Unlimited strength - *You can only have either unlimited strength, or telekinesis, because having both would be ridiculous and simply unfair. You may never possess both at a single time. Perhaps after a two-year contractual agreement after your possessing one power or another may you switch your plan, but that’s only in theory.
Flight/Levitation – You may levitate/fly only as high as your vertical jump (wherever your fingertips can touch, is where the bottom of your feet can reach when you fly).
Stop Time – You can only stop time for as long as you can hold a constipated state (i.e. when you are seriously trying to push a piece of poo out of your ass).
Night Vision – You can have perfect sight in any light (or darkness) only for the amount of time that you can trust yourself walking inside of the mall at a normal speed... with your eyes closed... during peak hours. *No peeking allowed. (No pun intended)
Time Travel – You can only travel back (never forward) in time in as many minutes as you have lives left at the end of completing CONTRA using the CONTRA/KONAMI code. (i.e. if you are a gaming master, the furthest back you can travel in time is 99 minutes). *You may try as many times as you like to increase the time*
On the flip-side, I’ve discovered a short list of superpowers that are the least wanted in the world:
Ketchup Transformer – The ability to turn anything into ketchup.
Flower Face – The ability to turn your face into a flower anytime.
Acid Tears – The ability to secrete nitric acid tears whenever you are sad.
Bug-Pathy – The ability to communicate with insects.
A-Sexual Reproduction – The ability to reproduce a-sexually, by yourself
... I personally would like to have the Ketchup Transformer power, but then again, I tend to run out of ketchup more quickly than the average ketchup consumer.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
"Music is no longer about how you sound, but how you look" -AC Lorenzo
The above quote sums up how much music has devolved over the past few years.
Music that defines a decade:
70's - Disco
80's - Rock and Roll
90's - Fresh R&B
2000's? __________
With the barrage of reality TV shows like American Idol bastardizing what once was good music (with only 'pretty people' making the cut) it only makes sense that confused teens turn to alternative, underground, and even Emo types of songs to find their Golden Age of Music; what they so vehemently describe as, 'real talent'.
Which still begs the question: What is considered 'Popular Music'? Because even when these underground artists become popular, their once-loyal fan base commits mutiny against them, screaming "Sellout!" to them from the highest mountain tops. It's all so warped.
I've ultimately been disturbed with how prejudice our society has been on the whole idea of music. Susan Boyle on Britain's Got Talent is a perfect example: "Oh, you have a decent voice, AND you're ugly! Wow, let's make that an internet sensation" Honestly, if that woman wins it won't be because of her 'Talent' as the name of the show claims, and we all know it.
Strip away the visual aspects of a musical artist and simply listen to what they have to offer. Throw up a curtain in front of them before you get to see what they look like and listen like every generation before this weird age and you just might find that you'll actually judge a musical artist for what their claim to fame should be: Their music. Not how they look, how they are with the media, or what their personality is like - that should be secondary, shouldn't it?
Think about it, is Brittney really talented? If you really listen to her songs since her 'comeback', they're all about how we're chasing her because of who she is. She's making money off of mocking our retarded interest in her life. And the best part is that she's getting away with it all right under our noses. Truth be told, that's the first time that she's actually impressed me since oogling over her sexy belly in "Hit Me Baby One More Time." Ahh, the guilty pleasure of watching her dance around in jailbait-outfits.
But take the belly and schoolgirl uniforms away, and man that was a stupid song.
All I'm saying is that there is no music that can clearly define this decade, because this decade, unlike those before it, can't seem to rally around a brand that can unite us. Perhaps we will just forever be known in the history books as the decade of 'The Confused and Talentless."
Ah, now there's something to be proud of.
Music that defines a decade:
70's - Disco
80's - Rock and Roll
90's - Fresh R&B
2000's? __________
With the barrage of reality TV shows like American Idol bastardizing what once was good music (with only 'pretty people' making the cut) it only makes sense that confused teens turn to alternative, underground, and even Emo types of songs to find their Golden Age of Music; what they so vehemently describe as, 'real talent'.
Which still begs the question: What is considered 'Popular Music'? Because even when these underground artists become popular, their once-loyal fan base commits mutiny against them, screaming "Sellout!" to them from the highest mountain tops. It's all so warped.
I've ultimately been disturbed with how prejudice our society has been on the whole idea of music. Susan Boyle on Britain's Got Talent is a perfect example: "Oh, you have a decent voice, AND you're ugly! Wow, let's make that an internet sensation" Honestly, if that woman wins it won't be because of her 'Talent' as the name of the show claims, and we all know it.
Strip away the visual aspects of a musical artist and simply listen to what they have to offer. Throw up a curtain in front of them before you get to see what they look like and listen like every generation before this weird age and you just might find that you'll actually judge a musical artist for what their claim to fame should be: Their music. Not how they look, how they are with the media, or what their personality is like - that should be secondary, shouldn't it?
Think about it, is Brittney really talented? If you really listen to her songs since her 'comeback', they're all about how we're chasing her because of who she is. She's making money off of mocking our retarded interest in her life. And the best part is that she's getting away with it all right under our noses. Truth be told, that's the first time that she's actually impressed me since oogling over her sexy belly in "Hit Me Baby One More Time." Ahh, the guilty pleasure of watching her dance around in jailbait-outfits.
But take the belly and schoolgirl uniforms away, and man that was a stupid song.
All I'm saying is that there is no music that can clearly define this decade, because this decade, unlike those before it, can't seem to rally around a brand that can unite us. Perhaps we will just forever be known in the history books as the decade of 'The Confused and Talentless."
Ah, now there's something to be proud of.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Murphy's Law?
Firstly, yesterday was awesome.
Secondly, today is not. In fact, I'd say that it is an absolute 180 degree/100 per cent opposite definition of opposite.
Thirdly, I won't explain why.
Fourthly, let's talk about Murphy's Law:
For those of you who aren't familiar with Murphy's Law, it is basically, in a nutshell, the idea that anything that can go wrong, will.
"Thou shall not tempt the God of Murphy lest they wish for him to unleash the wrath that is his Law"
-Some Awesome Guy (Psst! It's me!)
I've learned that the best way to avoid the invocation of Murphy's Law is to stray as far away as one can from uttering the phrase, "Things can't possibly get any worse than this." For once said, things will almost certainly find a way of becoming increasingly difficult as time wears on (at least until you go to sleep and wake up the next day... and at most, for the rest of your life). Even thinking the phrase can be damaging, especially when in company of another person who is thinking the exact same thing, as the act of two minds thinking against Murphy's Law will bring double the dose of consequence - of course, the last part is only theory, but scientific speculation cautions against the idea of testing it.
That being said, riding the high from yesterday's wave of excitement has most certainly made the fall that much more worse. By now, I've crashed and burned harder than I expected. Now that I think about it, I feel so defeated that I don't see any harm in recounting the highlights, or in this case 'lowlights' of my day:
-Running on four hours of sleep this Saturday is destroying my soul
-My car is having a slumber party with other cars at the mechanic's shop
-Because of the above statement, I'm out $1100 dollars.
-I'm stranded
-My cell phone battery is dead
-My house keys are attached to the car keys at the shop which is now closed for today
-My roommates are out at parties or with friends for the day
-My parents (within walking distance from my current location) have fled the coop
-I used up the rest of my battery on my phone calling 8 people who would possibly give me a ride... and got forwarded to 8 voice mail messages
-I have no cash for the bus
-My left nipple on my shirt has a nice stain from a sample piece of Orange Chicken; so now it looks like I'm lopsidedly lactating orange juice.
-Why won't my Pink-Eye go away?
Now granted, there are definitely worse things that can happen. By no means is my situation the end of the world (that's in 2012). I mean, for example, I could get hit by a bus and turn into a male version of Helen Keller.
But by then, the bus driver might feel obligated to at least give me a ride, so I guess that wouldn't be all too bad.
The horrible thing is that I've already anticipated for the day to get exponentially worse. I don't know how, but I have a sinking feeling that this isn't the end of the bad string of events for me. So, now that I've made it to a coffee shop to plug my laptop in, I've decided to wait out the storm until things clear up.
Consider it my rest or medicine for the sickness that is Murphy's Law.
By the way, in addition, my coffee tastes like feet.
Secondly, today is not. In fact, I'd say that it is an absolute 180 degree/100 per cent opposite definition of opposite.
Thirdly, I won't explain why.
Fourthly, let's talk about Murphy's Law:
For those of you who aren't familiar with Murphy's Law, it is basically, in a nutshell, the idea that anything that can go wrong, will.
"Thou shall not tempt the God of Murphy lest they wish for him to unleash the wrath that is his Law"
-Some Awesome Guy (Psst! It's me!)
I've learned that the best way to avoid the invocation of Murphy's Law is to stray as far away as one can from uttering the phrase, "Things can't possibly get any worse than this." For once said, things will almost certainly find a way of becoming increasingly difficult as time wears on (at least until you go to sleep and wake up the next day... and at most, for the rest of your life). Even thinking the phrase can be damaging, especially when in company of another person who is thinking the exact same thing, as the act of two minds thinking against Murphy's Law will bring double the dose of consequence - of course, the last part is only theory, but scientific speculation cautions against the idea of testing it.
That being said, riding the high from yesterday's wave of excitement has most certainly made the fall that much more worse. By now, I've crashed and burned harder than I expected. Now that I think about it, I feel so defeated that I don't see any harm in recounting the highlights, or in this case 'lowlights' of my day:
-Running on four hours of sleep this Saturday is destroying my soul
-My car is having a slumber party with other cars at the mechanic's shop
-Because of the above statement, I'm out $1100 dollars.
-I'm stranded
-My cell phone battery is dead
-My house keys are attached to the car keys at the shop which is now closed for today
-My roommates are out at parties or with friends for the day
-My parents (within walking distance from my current location) have fled the coop
-I used up the rest of my battery on my phone calling 8 people who would possibly give me a ride... and got forwarded to 8 voice mail messages
-I have no cash for the bus
-My left nipple on my shirt has a nice stain from a sample piece of Orange Chicken; so now it looks like I'm lopsidedly lactating orange juice.
-Why won't my Pink-Eye go away?
Now granted, there are definitely worse things that can happen. By no means is my situation the end of the world (that's in 2012). I mean, for example, I could get hit by a bus and turn into a male version of Helen Keller.
But by then, the bus driver might feel obligated to at least give me a ride, so I guess that wouldn't be all too bad.
The horrible thing is that I've already anticipated for the day to get exponentially worse. I don't know how, but I have a sinking feeling that this isn't the end of the bad string of events for me. So, now that I've made it to a coffee shop to plug my laptop in, I've decided to wait out the storm until things clear up.
Consider it my rest or medicine for the sickness that is Murphy's Law.
By the way, in addition, my coffee tastes like feet.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Letter of Gratitude
To the person who opened and drank my milk that I just bought,
Hi. I hope you enjoyed the brand-new carton of milk that I just bought yesterday. I know I would have. I know that you probably didn't see the big red, bolded, capitalized words that I wrote in thick, permanent marker which read: "DO NOT DRINK. DO NOT THROW AWAY. PROPERTY OF MATT LORENZO" on the sides. Heck, if I needed milk and couldn't make the effort to get my own, I'd probably do the same - I mean, after all, we ARE at work, aren't we? It's not like there's a Wal-Mart a hundred-fifty steps due south of the building.... oh, wait, there is?
Well anyhoo, none of that matters. I'll give you the benifit of the doubt and guess that you probably didn't know about that location. I mean, why else would you go and drink half of a quart of a brand-new carton of milk that somebody else purchased, right? I bet that feeling of peeling apart the protective, plastic seal was just a joy too good to pass up, huh?
Things like this happen all of the time, right? Heck, it could have been your milk that you thought you were drinking all along, right? Granted, the only other thing made of white that I saw on the shelf of the community fridge was a jar of mayonaise... which I also bought and wrote on, but still, hey, we all make clumsy mistakes, right?
Don't take this the wrong way. I mean, I'm not mad or anything. I'm actually impressed with your boldness. It takes a lot of courage to go through such a decision. I'm sure that you had a bowl of cereal already poured, just praying, hoping, wishing that there would be some milk that magically appeared out of nowhere just calling your name, didn't you?
I mean, it's insane to think of how else it could have happened. There's no possible way that you could have, say... had something else lined up in your mind that you wanted to eat that didn't require milk at all. That might have been about the time when you opened up the fridge to peek around, although you knew for sure that you didn't put anything in there yourself in the first place. Then upon seeing the new milk there for the first time, you decided that it's been a while since you had oatmeal, and since you didn't have any of your own, you thought that your cube-mate would gladly give you a scoop or two of theirs since it always smells so good in the morning. So then, after going through all of the trouble of getting the oatmeal, you trucked back down to the fridge and used the milk to satiate your newfound craving. And upon doing so, decided on taking a tall glass from the cabinet and pour yourself a full helping of milk from that same carton so that you could wash down that tasty oatmeal. Then upon realizing that you've had half the carton all by your lonesome, you shamefully put the milk back in what you thought might have been its original place...
Yeah. Psshhhh, that's just absurd. Like that would ever be the case.
Well, congrats. I hope the milk tasted wonderful.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be buying myself a new carton of milk that I will be storing in a different location.
In addition, I will be buying a heavy, heavy.... heavy laxitive. But don't worry - It's not for the existing milk carton that you most likely will still be drinking from again...
No... Not for that at all...
Hi. I hope you enjoyed the brand-new carton of milk that I just bought yesterday. I know I would have. I know that you probably didn't see the big red, bolded, capitalized words that I wrote in thick, permanent marker which read: "DO NOT DRINK. DO NOT THROW AWAY. PROPERTY OF MATT LORENZO" on the sides. Heck, if I needed milk and couldn't make the effort to get my own, I'd probably do the same - I mean, after all, we ARE at work, aren't we? It's not like there's a Wal-Mart a hundred-fifty steps due south of the building.... oh, wait, there is?
Well anyhoo, none of that matters. I'll give you the benifit of the doubt and guess that you probably didn't know about that location. I mean, why else would you go and drink half of a quart of a brand-new carton of milk that somebody else purchased, right? I bet that feeling of peeling apart the protective, plastic seal was just a joy too good to pass up, huh?
Things like this happen all of the time, right? Heck, it could have been your milk that you thought you were drinking all along, right? Granted, the only other thing made of white that I saw on the shelf of the community fridge was a jar of mayonaise... which I also bought and wrote on, but still, hey, we all make clumsy mistakes, right?
Don't take this the wrong way. I mean, I'm not mad or anything. I'm actually impressed with your boldness. It takes a lot of courage to go through such a decision. I'm sure that you had a bowl of cereal already poured, just praying, hoping, wishing that there would be some milk that magically appeared out of nowhere just calling your name, didn't you?
I mean, it's insane to think of how else it could have happened. There's no possible way that you could have, say... had something else lined up in your mind that you wanted to eat that didn't require milk at all. That might have been about the time when you opened up the fridge to peek around, although you knew for sure that you didn't put anything in there yourself in the first place. Then upon seeing the new milk there for the first time, you decided that it's been a while since you had oatmeal, and since you didn't have any of your own, you thought that your cube-mate would gladly give you a scoop or two of theirs since it always smells so good in the morning. So then, after going through all of the trouble of getting the oatmeal, you trucked back down to the fridge and used the milk to satiate your newfound craving. And upon doing so, decided on taking a tall glass from the cabinet and pour yourself a full helping of milk from that same carton so that you could wash down that tasty oatmeal. Then upon realizing that you've had half the carton all by your lonesome, you shamefully put the milk back in what you thought might have been its original place...
Yeah. Psshhhh, that's just absurd. Like that would ever be the case.
Well, congrats. I hope the milk tasted wonderful.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be buying myself a new carton of milk that I will be storing in a different location.
In addition, I will be buying a heavy, heavy.... heavy laxitive. But don't worry - It's not for the existing milk carton that you most likely will still be drinking from again...
No... Not for that at all...
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Things Not to Do
1.) If you need to relieve your bladder or ease the turtling-effect (aka if you are 'pushing cloth') and there is only a single-stalled/toilet bathroom in a given public arena, do not - in ANY capacity - ever allow somebody into said bathroom before you.
Why?
They will ALWAYS take too long, and ultimately make you give them the stink-eye once they leave the bathroom, only to receive nothing but a look of confusion from them.
*Exception: If the person that wants to use the restroom is a girl regardless of any age or physical attractiveness.
Addendum-1: Rule above apparently only applies to men in both parties of the scenario. Females have their own set of arcane rules that make absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.
2.) Never sit next to me in a coffee shop if you are a small group of cute girls, or girls whose cuteness I have yet to determine.
Why?
I know it sounds cliche, but I really am at the coffee shop to try to get some writing done. Your presence alone is distracting me from what I need to get done. If you absolutely must sit next to me while I work, please do me the courtesy of at least trying to look ugly. And if that ends up turning me on or grabbing my attention, at least do me the common decency of flirting with me so that I can feel that it's all worth it. The absolute LAST thing that you and your friends should do is pose sexily in front of your laptop's webcam. That really irrtates me because I can't tell if I'm supposed to like you or hate you. So in the end, not only am I distracted, but I am irritated as well... which means that I can't get any of the original work that I was trying to accomplish done in the first place.
*Exception: If you are married, you are excused from the above.
Addendum-1: Never mind, you are still subject to the rule.
Addendum-2: I hate you.
3.) Do not leave the gym equipment without wiping it down; especially after grunting on it for the past five minutes.
Why?
Come on, really?
*Exception: Hot chick.
Addendum-1: The hot chick card trumps EVERY rule for the time being.
Addendum-2: Whatever happens AFTER the 'time being', may or may not lower the 'trump-ness' of the hot chick card (e.g. over time the crazy factor of hot chick may throw off the scale)
There are a pleothra of other cardinal rules one should never break, but these are three that were broken for me yesterday in succession. For that, I simply cannot forgive human beings in general. EVER.
*...Exception: Are you a hot chick? Follow me @ Twitter.com/Mattlorenz
Addendum-1: I will forgive everything you do.
Addendum-2: Seriously.
Why?
They will ALWAYS take too long, and ultimately make you give them the stink-eye once they leave the bathroom, only to receive nothing but a look of confusion from them.
*Exception: If the person that wants to use the restroom is a girl regardless of any age or physical attractiveness.
Addendum-1: Rule above apparently only applies to men in both parties of the scenario. Females have their own set of arcane rules that make absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.
2.) Never sit next to me in a coffee shop if you are a small group of cute girls, or girls whose cuteness I have yet to determine.
Why?
I know it sounds cliche, but I really am at the coffee shop to try to get some writing done. Your presence alone is distracting me from what I need to get done. If you absolutely must sit next to me while I work, please do me the courtesy of at least trying to look ugly. And if that ends up turning me on or grabbing my attention, at least do me the common decency of flirting with me so that I can feel that it's all worth it. The absolute LAST thing that you and your friends should do is pose sexily in front of your laptop's webcam. That really irrtates me because I can't tell if I'm supposed to like you or hate you. So in the end, not only am I distracted, but I am irritated as well... which means that I can't get any of the original work that I was trying to accomplish done in the first place.
*Exception: If you are married, you are excused from the above.
Addendum-1: Never mind, you are still subject to the rule.
Addendum-2: I hate you.
3.) Do not leave the gym equipment without wiping it down; especially after grunting on it for the past five minutes.
Why?
Come on, really?
*Exception: Hot chick.
Addendum-1: The hot chick card trumps EVERY rule for the time being.
Addendum-2: Whatever happens AFTER the 'time being', may or may not lower the 'trump-ness' of the hot chick card (e.g. over time the crazy factor of hot chick may throw off the scale)
There are a pleothra of other cardinal rules one should never break, but these are three that were broken for me yesterday in succession. For that, I simply cannot forgive human beings in general. EVER.
*...Exception: Are you a hot chick? Follow me @ Twitter.com/Mattlorenz
Addendum-1: I will forgive everything you do.
Addendum-2: Seriously.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Sleep
Before today's blog let's read a couple of thoughts from our sponser - My brain:
While I'm drinking a cold bottle of water, if I get interrupted or stop at any point, the second, immediate attempt at the drink will almost certainly not be as quenching.
I know the proper way to say it is 'Bless you', but when somebody sneezes, I can't help but pronounce it 'Ble-shoe'. Come on, you know you do it do.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog:
So sleep. When do I sleep?
When the dog decides to lay down on my stomach, I sleep.
When I discover a new position to lay down in on the couch, I sleep.
When the floor seems to have more give than it did the day before, I sleep.
When I can wrap my arm inside the seatbelt and let it hang while I'm parked, I sleep.
When my tongue finally gets tired of trying to pick at the food in between my teeth, I sleep.
When I have had too much caffine, I sleep.
When I play at least an hour of Street Fighter IV, I sleep.
When a girl gently sweeps her fingertips back and forth along my forearm, I sleep.
When I'm finally getting into a creative rhythm with my writing, I sleep.
When I think I've woken up from a dream, only to realize that I'm stll dreaming, I sleep.
When I try to put a baby to sleep, I sleep.
When I look at the clock and think it's 3pm, when it's actually 3am, I sleep.
When I'm sitting in the midnight mass of Chrismas Eve, I sleep.
When I'm listening to Norah Jones, I sleep
When I lightly sniff the scent of vanilla and coconut, I smile, then I sleep.
When I'm heartbroken, I sleep.
When I'm playing Hide-and-Seek and I am the one hiding, I sleep.
When I stare at a picture of a pretty girl too long, I sleep.
Traditional forms of sleep tend to bore me.
While I'm drinking a cold bottle of water, if I get interrupted or stop at any point, the second, immediate attempt at the drink will almost certainly not be as quenching.
I know the proper way to say it is 'Bless you', but when somebody sneezes, I can't help but pronounce it 'Ble-shoe'. Come on, you know you do it do.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog:
So sleep. When do I sleep?
When the dog decides to lay down on my stomach, I sleep.
When I discover a new position to lay down in on the couch, I sleep.
When the floor seems to have more give than it did the day before, I sleep.
When I can wrap my arm inside the seatbelt and let it hang while I'm parked, I sleep.
When my tongue finally gets tired of trying to pick at the food in between my teeth, I sleep.
When I have had too much caffine, I sleep.
When I play at least an hour of Street Fighter IV, I sleep.
When a girl gently sweeps her fingertips back and forth along my forearm, I sleep.
When I'm finally getting into a creative rhythm with my writing, I sleep.
When I think I've woken up from a dream, only to realize that I'm stll dreaming, I sleep.
When I try to put a baby to sleep, I sleep.
When I look at the clock and think it's 3pm, when it's actually 3am, I sleep.
When I'm sitting in the midnight mass of Chrismas Eve, I sleep.
When I'm listening to Norah Jones, I sleep
When I lightly sniff the scent of vanilla and coconut, I smile, then I sleep.
When I'm heartbroken, I sleep.
When I'm playing Hide-and-Seek and I am the one hiding, I sleep.
When I stare at a picture of a pretty girl too long, I sleep.
Traditional forms of sleep tend to bore me.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Spoiler Alert
When is okay to talk about spoilers? How much time needs to pass after a movie or TV show comes out before the ending becomes public information?
There are many awesome things that one can do because of the luxury of having acces to the internet, but with great power comes great responsibility, right? Facebook is a perfect example of this.
The other day, there was a lot of unhappiness spread around my little world because of one innocent little Facebook status update from one of my friends.
In reference to the TV show, Lost, the status update read as follows (with names removed for those who missed it):
"_______ just capped ______, woooohooooo!"
This update was posted just mere minutes after the show had aired on TV that night. Thus began the wave of unhappiness:
1:30am: My cousin - a Lost fan who missed the episode - accidentally reads the statement and goes berserk.
1:31am: While sleeping in bed I hear a pounding at my door. I open it just to have my cousin warn me with angry eyes not to go onto Facebook until we watched the episode. I am upset that I lost sleep that night.
7:45am: Because of my lack of sleep I walk into work and yell at my co-worker about not finishing something that I asked her to do for me. She gets upset and storms off to her cubile.
2:00pm: I hear that said co-worker had gone off on someone else in a different department.
5:00pm: As I walked out of work, I wondered how far the yelling went.
So yeah, my cousin and I ended up watching that episode of Lost half-filled with excitement, while the other half was filled with anticipation of waiting for X person to 'cap' the other X person.
In the end, I guess that the moral of the story is that if you don't want other people to start yelling at each other and unleash havoc into the world, don't announce spoilers on the internet for the world to see.
By the way, Vader is Luke's father.
There are many awesome things that one can do because of the luxury of having acces to the internet, but with great power comes great responsibility, right? Facebook is a perfect example of this.
The other day, there was a lot of unhappiness spread around my little world because of one innocent little Facebook status update from one of my friends.
In reference to the TV show, Lost, the status update read as follows (with names removed for those who missed it):
"_______ just capped ______, woooohooooo!"
This update was posted just mere minutes after the show had aired on TV that night. Thus began the wave of unhappiness:
1:30am: My cousin - a Lost fan who missed the episode - accidentally reads the statement and goes berserk.
1:31am: While sleeping in bed I hear a pounding at my door. I open it just to have my cousin warn me with angry eyes not to go onto Facebook until we watched the episode. I am upset that I lost sleep that night.
7:45am: Because of my lack of sleep I walk into work and yell at my co-worker about not finishing something that I asked her to do for me. She gets upset and storms off to her cubile.
2:00pm: I hear that said co-worker had gone off on someone else in a different department.
5:00pm: As I walked out of work, I wondered how far the yelling went.
So yeah, my cousin and I ended up watching that episode of Lost half-filled with excitement, while the other half was filled with anticipation of waiting for X person to 'cap' the other X person.
In the end, I guess that the moral of the story is that if you don't want other people to start yelling at each other and unleash havoc into the world, don't announce spoilers on the internet for the world to see.
By the way, Vader is Luke's father.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Head Talk
I think I have multiple-personality disorder.
In any given social situation, I have exactly four people in my head arguing with one another at every waking moment of the day.
The names of those people are:
-The Pushover
-The Asshole
-The Indecisive One
-The One That Never Pays Attention
Scenario? Sure, why not?
Scene:
A pretty girl that I've met only once before says hi to me at Starbucks and decides to spend a few minutes sharing a drink with me.
The Pushover will be telling my brain: "Hey, make sure that you don't cross the line. You want her to think that you're a gentleman, don't you? Apologize for anything that might seem off-key because the last thing you want is for her to not want to see you again; heck, for all you know, she might be 'the one' for you. And if you get the chance, offer to buy her another cup of coffee when she finishes hers because she'll think you're sweet, too.
The Asshole will say: "Shut-up you Pushover pansy. Why don't you go and buy yourself some tampons for your huge vagina? Anyway, listen Matthew, this girl is used to getting anything that she wants. Don't give her anything. She needs to EARN it from you. What qualifies HER to be deserving of YOUR time? The worst thing you can do is bow down and put her on a pedestal like every single other guy she's met. If you want to stand out, stand up for yourself and ignore the hell out of her. Make her want you.
The Indecisive One will say: "Well, hey now, Pushover and Asshole, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. Remember, Matthew, you guys just met, so let her take you where you need to go. Just adapt to what she has to say. Keep quiet and don't say anything bold or brash. You don't want to come off as arrogant, or as a wuss, right? Oh, crap, she just asked you a question! Quick, counter! Say something like 'Um, well, what about you? What do you think about it?' Yeah, that'll do it. Because then, you can just build your answer around what she says, no matter what her answer is! Yeah, keep to that and you'll be golden.
The One That Never Pays Attention will say: "What is she saying right now? God, I know that she was just talking about her sick mother... I think. But there's that stupid one-legged bird sitting outside the window again. Matthew, you should be listening to her, shouldn't you? But damn, that bird is strange looking. Look at it hop around like that! I wonder if it was born that way or if some mean kid grabbed it and cut the leg off. Man, I bet that would hurt. How could I survive with one leg? I'd never be able to get around anywhere... but then again, birds can fly, so I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world. Oh crap, she just asked me a question, didn't she? I can't just tell her that I was thinking about that stupid bird. God, I hate birds. I know I should probably be sad because her face looks sad. Okay, just match her facial expression and tilt your head at her. You should be fine. Now where'd that bird go?
So yes, I have those four voices floating around my head at all times. And then I have my actual mind, which acts as the president over those four branches of government that is my brain. This is the one being that makes the executive decisions for me. If for any reason my mind sees no feasable way that the four voices can come to a unanimous decision, it will be the overriding force that commands an immediate direct course of action be taken... usually by coin-flip.
These voices can be heard the loudest when I am lost on the road. I usually have to turn the radio up really loud to drown them out. Then I proceed to take the longest way home... Every time.
Anyway - hey look, someone left a doughnut on the table! How old is it? Can I eat it? I don't want to be rude and just take it. But it's out in the open though, so just grab it. Maybe I should wait. Woah! My big toe on my left foot has a weird scar on the side, where the hell did that come from?
F-it! Just go to the bathroom and take a dump.
In any given social situation, I have exactly four people in my head arguing with one another at every waking moment of the day.
The names of those people are:
-The Pushover
-The Asshole
-The Indecisive One
-The One That Never Pays Attention
Scenario? Sure, why not?
Scene:
A pretty girl that I've met only once before says hi to me at Starbucks and decides to spend a few minutes sharing a drink with me.
The Pushover will be telling my brain: "Hey, make sure that you don't cross the line. You want her to think that you're a gentleman, don't you? Apologize for anything that might seem off-key because the last thing you want is for her to not want to see you again; heck, for all you know, she might be 'the one' for you. And if you get the chance, offer to buy her another cup of coffee when she finishes hers because she'll think you're sweet, too.
The Asshole will say: "Shut-up you Pushover pansy. Why don't you go and buy yourself some tampons for your huge vagina? Anyway, listen Matthew, this girl is used to getting anything that she wants. Don't give her anything. She needs to EARN it from you. What qualifies HER to be deserving of YOUR time? The worst thing you can do is bow down and put her on a pedestal like every single other guy she's met. If you want to stand out, stand up for yourself and ignore the hell out of her. Make her want you.
The Indecisive One will say: "Well, hey now, Pushover and Asshole, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. Remember, Matthew, you guys just met, so let her take you where you need to go. Just adapt to what she has to say. Keep quiet and don't say anything bold or brash. You don't want to come off as arrogant, or as a wuss, right? Oh, crap, she just asked you a question! Quick, counter! Say something like 'Um, well, what about you? What do you think about it?' Yeah, that'll do it. Because then, you can just build your answer around what she says, no matter what her answer is! Yeah, keep to that and you'll be golden.
The One That Never Pays Attention will say: "What is she saying right now? God, I know that she was just talking about her sick mother... I think. But there's that stupid one-legged bird sitting outside the window again. Matthew, you should be listening to her, shouldn't you? But damn, that bird is strange looking. Look at it hop around like that! I wonder if it was born that way or if some mean kid grabbed it and cut the leg off. Man, I bet that would hurt. How could I survive with one leg? I'd never be able to get around anywhere... but then again, birds can fly, so I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world. Oh crap, she just asked me a question, didn't she? I can't just tell her that I was thinking about that stupid bird. God, I hate birds. I know I should probably be sad because her face looks sad. Okay, just match her facial expression and tilt your head at her. You should be fine. Now where'd that bird go?
So yes, I have those four voices floating around my head at all times. And then I have my actual mind, which acts as the president over those four branches of government that is my brain. This is the one being that makes the executive decisions for me. If for any reason my mind sees no feasable way that the four voices can come to a unanimous decision, it will be the overriding force that commands an immediate direct course of action be taken... usually by coin-flip.
These voices can be heard the loudest when I am lost on the road. I usually have to turn the radio up really loud to drown them out. Then I proceed to take the longest way home... Every time.
Anyway - hey look, someone left a doughnut on the table! How old is it? Can I eat it? I don't want to be rude and just take it. But it's out in the open though, so just grab it. Maybe I should wait. Woah! My big toe on my left foot has a weird scar on the side, where the hell did that come from?
F-it! Just go to the bathroom and take a dump.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Time Crunch
As my family grows older, we also grow larger (*Not necessarily in the weight department. I mean, come on, if anything else, we're definitely a sexy bunch*). A new addition to our family was born earlier this month, increasing the number of March birthdays by one - and we couldn't be more excited.
But while I'm elated to have such a blessing to be so close to my friends, family and loved ones. I've learned that the time I have for things that I want to do for myself has been spread thinner than butter on toast.
This blog, for example has been neglected far longer than I anticipated.
I don't have many things that I want to do, but the the few things that I have in mind require a bit more attention than most:
-Writing books
-Working Out
-Sleeping
Just to name a few.
Maybe it's just me, or perhaps it's just all of the craziness happening during the month of March, but whatever the case it seems that the world is moving too fast for me and I am struggling just to keep up with it.
I saw this video the other day (Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIDLIwlzkgY) that made me wonder. It was all about how the world was getting exponentially bigger and how we are living in a faster and faster age. It noted that the amount of new technical information is doubling every two years - which means that for students starting a four-year technical degree, half of what they learn their first year will be outdated by their third year of study. How wack is that?
Maybe I'm just nostalgic, but I agree with the message of this video more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus
It's weird, I've always felt this way since high school about things. Does that mean that I've wasted all of my time since then because I've been so caught up in wanting to revert to old ways? I don't know. All I know is that there aren't enough hours in the day, and my ambition is slowly waned as the life-tests of procrastination and social pressures are washing over me in unforgiving waves.
But then I remember that I don't mind spending time with pretty girls and when I do, all of those other things that I was bitching and complaining about earlier get placed on the back-burner.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
But while I'm elated to have such a blessing to be so close to my friends, family and loved ones. I've learned that the time I have for things that I want to do for myself has been spread thinner than butter on toast.
This blog, for example has been neglected far longer than I anticipated.
I don't have many things that I want to do, but the the few things that I have in mind require a bit more attention than most:
-Writing books
-Working Out
-Sleeping
Just to name a few.
Maybe it's just me, or perhaps it's just all of the craziness happening during the month of March, but whatever the case it seems that the world is moving too fast for me and I am struggling just to keep up with it.
I saw this video the other day (Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIDLIwlzkgY) that made me wonder. It was all about how the world was getting exponentially bigger and how we are living in a faster and faster age. It noted that the amount of new technical information is doubling every two years - which means that for students starting a four-year technical degree, half of what they learn their first year will be outdated by their third year of study. How wack is that?
Maybe I'm just nostalgic, but I agree with the message of this video more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoGYx35ypus
It's weird, I've always felt this way since high school about things. Does that mean that I've wasted all of my time since then because I've been so caught up in wanting to revert to old ways? I don't know. All I know is that there aren't enough hours in the day, and my ambition is slowly waned as the life-tests of procrastination and social pressures are washing over me in unforgiving waves.
But then I remember that I don't mind spending time with pretty girls and when I do, all of those other things that I was bitching and complaining about earlier get placed on the back-burner.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sicknesses
Currently Reading:
The Time Traveler's Wife
I had a lot of topics I wanted to touch on today, but I felt obliged to narrow it down to only one: Sicknesses.
The other leading contenders were: Daylight Savings, Newborn Babies, and Old Man I Couldn't Pass Around in the Hallway Who Farted with Each Tiny Step.
Sadly, because this is all that I can wrap my head around at this hour, I can only write about my current, sick state.
Coughing, sore throat, lack of appetite, shivers, and a strange feeling of Vertigo are constantly battling one another to own the crown of 'Most Annoying Symptom of the Minute'. All I can seem to do is complain about anything and everything.
First, we lose an hour which doesn't help me get the much needed rest; as I had woken up an hour before my body wanted to. Secondly, I have a splitting headache that gets worse as I stand behind an elderly man at work today who happens to be in front of me in a narrow hallway, and farting little tiny squeaks with every step. Inside I was laughing hysterically, which hurt my gut, made me dizzier, and pounded my headache into a full-blown migraine. Ultimately, the pungent, sour smell of his gas didn't help my sinuses either.
In the end, I've pretty much given up on thinking that I'm 'healthy' today, which kind of sucks because I see myself as a person almost comically immune to sicknesses.
I'm thinking that I caught it when I was going out clubbing with some friends over the weekend. It was pretty chilly outside, but after a sweaty evening, I decided to go with short-sleeves in the brisk air. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Then again, there were a lot of dumb ideas we had that evening:
Mistake #1 - Using a gay bar to relieve our bladders.
It was a long car ride. Our bladders were about to explode. We parked. We found the nearest location that looked like it might have a restroom. We ran inside. We noticed a lack of girls. We noticed fancy, flashing lights. We noticed all the male bartenders in tight, black tank-tops. We didn't add things up until we were in the middle of our peeing session:
Me: Hey, man, it smells like a pool in here, huh?
Friend: I know, it's like bleach or chlorine *flush* (2 seconds later) AHHHH!!!!!
Me: What? *flush* (my eyes follow his to a poster on the doorway of two men flashing nothing but underwear). 'Two for One Specials. Wednesday Nights'. Gross.
Friend: Dude, I think we're in a gay bar.
Me: Dude... No wonder they were smiling at us.
END OF MISTAKE
Mistake #2: Standing in Line
Out in the cold, we had nothing to do but wait in line for two hours only to be told that the club had reached max. capacity and that everybody had to go elsewhere. Thanks for the 'Guest List' guys. Really awesome.
Mistake #3: Getting sick.
As it turned out, the evening was a pretty big success. We lost an hour of sleep, but we didn't care. We had fun. That was until I started coughing the next morning.
As it stands, I'm one weekend into March and only 5 weeks until the slew of birthdays is behind me. Which means that I might be able to catch up on rent over the next couple of months... if I decide to only eat apples and drink water throughout that time period.
On the bright side, I guess I'm losing weight.
I guess.
The Time Traveler's Wife
I had a lot of topics I wanted to touch on today, but I felt obliged to narrow it down to only one: Sicknesses.
The other leading contenders were: Daylight Savings, Newborn Babies, and Old Man I Couldn't Pass Around in the Hallway Who Farted with Each Tiny Step.
Sadly, because this is all that I can wrap my head around at this hour, I can only write about my current, sick state.
Coughing, sore throat, lack of appetite, shivers, and a strange feeling of Vertigo are constantly battling one another to own the crown of 'Most Annoying Symptom of the Minute'. All I can seem to do is complain about anything and everything.
First, we lose an hour which doesn't help me get the much needed rest; as I had woken up an hour before my body wanted to. Secondly, I have a splitting headache that gets worse as I stand behind an elderly man at work today who happens to be in front of me in a narrow hallway, and farting little tiny squeaks with every step. Inside I was laughing hysterically, which hurt my gut, made me dizzier, and pounded my headache into a full-blown migraine. Ultimately, the pungent, sour smell of his gas didn't help my sinuses either.
In the end, I've pretty much given up on thinking that I'm 'healthy' today, which kind of sucks because I see myself as a person almost comically immune to sicknesses.
I'm thinking that I caught it when I was going out clubbing with some friends over the weekend. It was pretty chilly outside, but after a sweaty evening, I decided to go with short-sleeves in the brisk air. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea. Then again, there were a lot of dumb ideas we had that evening:
Mistake #1 - Using a gay bar to relieve our bladders.
It was a long car ride. Our bladders were about to explode. We parked. We found the nearest location that looked like it might have a restroom. We ran inside. We noticed a lack of girls. We noticed fancy, flashing lights. We noticed all the male bartenders in tight, black tank-tops. We didn't add things up until we were in the middle of our peeing session:
Me: Hey, man, it smells like a pool in here, huh?
Friend: I know, it's like bleach or chlorine *flush* (2 seconds later) AHHHH!!!!!
Me: What? *flush* (my eyes follow his to a poster on the doorway of two men flashing nothing but underwear). 'Two for One Specials. Wednesday Nights'. Gross.
Friend: Dude, I think we're in a gay bar.
Me: Dude... No wonder they were smiling at us.
END OF MISTAKE
Mistake #2: Standing in Line
Out in the cold, we had nothing to do but wait in line for two hours only to be told that the club had reached max. capacity and that everybody had to go elsewhere. Thanks for the 'Guest List' guys. Really awesome.
Mistake #3: Getting sick.
As it turned out, the evening was a pretty big success. We lost an hour of sleep, but we didn't care. We had fun. That was until I started coughing the next morning.
As it stands, I'm one weekend into March and only 5 weeks until the slew of birthdays is behind me. Which means that I might be able to catch up on rent over the next couple of months... if I decide to only eat apples and drink water throughout that time period.
On the bright side, I guess I'm losing weight.
I guess.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Forgetfulness
I will recap the birthday nights following '7' only very briefly:
March 1st: 2009 Wondercon SF. Met Adam Baldwin. Saw many strange costumes. Accidentally bumped shoulders with Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher). Awesome day.
March 2nd: Celebrated by doing absolutely nothing all day. Almost succeeded until persuaded into a nice dinner with cousins. Ate at BJ's. Almost literally inhaled their pazookie. Tradition upheld.
March 3rd: Back to the gym.
March 4th: Dinner at Claim Jumper. Appetizer sampler was enough to feed 8 starving Ethiopians. Wish I had a camera. Waitress gave me a flirty smile. Can't say that I blame her.
With that out of the way, allow me to introduce to you my new nemesis: Thursday mornings after long Wednesday nights.
Today, at 6:45 in the morning, I ran out to the driveway in forty degree weather in nothing but flip flops and a pair of boxers.
Allow me to backtrack.
Every week, our local garbage man comes to our neighborhood, just as any good garbage man would to cities all across the nation. Ours happens to pick up the garbage at first light; approximately the same time that I wake up. Unfortunately, due to my lengthy marathon of late-night TV, I had forgotten to place the cans outside.
Now, the only one that concerned me was the trash bin, that of course was the only one that was picked up by the time I had left my front door.
So there I am, standing in the freezing cold, nipples hard enough to cut glass, as I watch the garbage truck roll down the street and turn the corner, leaving behind only a cloud of exhaust from its tailpipe.
Needless to say, I was peeved.
Not only do we have garbage that needed to go out, but to make matters worse, the can was already filled up, and on top of that, we have a big family party to host today. So I figure that by the time next Thursday morning rolls around, we'll have nearly seven large bags of garbage overflowing the already-full garbage can.
My problem is that this isn't the first time this has happened to me. Not the second either. It's probably the fourth time... this year. I've lost count of how many over all.
Damn you long Wednesday Nights and Naked Thursday Mornings!
It seems like its time to start sneaking bags into the neighbors' cans when they're not looking.
March 1st: 2009 Wondercon SF. Met Adam Baldwin. Saw many strange costumes. Accidentally bumped shoulders with Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher). Awesome day.
March 2nd: Celebrated by doing absolutely nothing all day. Almost succeeded until persuaded into a nice dinner with cousins. Ate at BJ's. Almost literally inhaled their pazookie. Tradition upheld.
March 3rd: Back to the gym.
March 4th: Dinner at Claim Jumper. Appetizer sampler was enough to feed 8 starving Ethiopians. Wish I had a camera. Waitress gave me a flirty smile. Can't say that I blame her.
With that out of the way, allow me to introduce to you my new nemesis: Thursday mornings after long Wednesday nights.
Today, at 6:45 in the morning, I ran out to the driveway in forty degree weather in nothing but flip flops and a pair of boxers.
Allow me to backtrack.
Every week, our local garbage man comes to our neighborhood, just as any good garbage man would to cities all across the nation. Ours happens to pick up the garbage at first light; approximately the same time that I wake up. Unfortunately, due to my lengthy marathon of late-night TV, I had forgotten to place the cans outside.
Now, the only one that concerned me was the trash bin, that of course was the only one that was picked up by the time I had left my front door.
So there I am, standing in the freezing cold, nipples hard enough to cut glass, as I watch the garbage truck roll down the street and turn the corner, leaving behind only a cloud of exhaust from its tailpipe.
Needless to say, I was peeved.
Not only do we have garbage that needed to go out, but to make matters worse, the can was already filled up, and on top of that, we have a big family party to host today. So I figure that by the time next Thursday morning rolls around, we'll have nearly seven large bags of garbage overflowing the already-full garbage can.
My problem is that this isn't the first time this has happened to me. Not the second either. It's probably the fourth time... this year. I've lost count of how many over all.
Damn you long Wednesday Nights and Naked Thursday Mornings!
It seems like its time to start sneaking bags into the neighbors' cans when they're not looking.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
7
Jinx/Socks
Kioko
Bunny
Jade
Mya
Non-stop laughter and fun for everyone for 8 hours straight.
Nuff' said.
Birthday weekend night #2 on the books.
Kioko
Bunny
Jade
Mya
Non-stop laughter and fun for everyone for 8 hours straight.
Nuff' said.
Birthday weekend night #2 on the books.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Spinning and Thumping: Alcohol
Somewhere between 9pm last night and 9am this morning I was able to lose 5 lbs.
At 9pm my friend came over reared and ready to go out to party at a club in the area. Naturally, as friends do, we got to cracking a few bottles of beer open together and threw them to the backs of our throats before taking off. I don't encourage drinking and driving (especially if we're on our way to go and drink some more), but in this particular case, I gambled.
A cousin of mine was djing the event and had spotted me in a crowd. He told the doorman to let me and my friend in. What happened next was a seemingly endless blur of strangeness:
-Every three steps I ran into somebody I knew, or at least somebody that knew me.
-A sea of bodies bombarded my senses, most of whom towered over me in height.
-I consumed way too many drinks of different varieties.
-I danced with random people left and right.
-Somewhere along the night I gave a really tall waitress a piggy-back ride.
-I threw up on the side of the road.
It would be futile to attempt to explain what happened last night in a way that would be anywhere near interesting, so I'll fast forward to what happened when I came back home:
-I fumbled with my keys at the front door.
-I stumbled in at 2:45am, most likely waking my roommates.
-I remember walking into a clean room.
-I threw my possessions on my table, disrobed and went to sleep.
-I woke up to the world spinning and my head thumping.
-In my mouth there were Mardi Gras beads.
-At my feet there was loose change, my wallet, keys, watches and coupons.
-I was curious about that, so I rolled over and felt markers, pens, pencils, mints, and vitamins against my arms.
-After assessing the situation, I went to the bathroom to try and sort this mess out.
-I weighed myself on the scale just because it was there (as I did last night).
-I lost 5 lbs.
What the hell happened last night?
I'm really uncertain, which probably explains the ragtag way this post was pieced together. My head hurts too much to try and make some decent sense out of things and make this post lyrical. Besides, the taste of the lingering bile is really making me more nauseous. I'm going to eat some Lil' Smokies to try and rinse that flavor out.
Birthday weekend night #1 on the books.
At 9pm my friend came over reared and ready to go out to party at a club in the area. Naturally, as friends do, we got to cracking a few bottles of beer open together and threw them to the backs of our throats before taking off. I don't encourage drinking and driving (especially if we're on our way to go and drink some more), but in this particular case, I gambled.
A cousin of mine was djing the event and had spotted me in a crowd. He told the doorman to let me and my friend in. What happened next was a seemingly endless blur of strangeness:
-Every three steps I ran into somebody I knew, or at least somebody that knew me.
-A sea of bodies bombarded my senses, most of whom towered over me in height.
-I consumed way too many drinks of different varieties.
-I danced with random people left and right.
-Somewhere along the night I gave a really tall waitress a piggy-back ride.
-I threw up on the side of the road.
It would be futile to attempt to explain what happened last night in a way that would be anywhere near interesting, so I'll fast forward to what happened when I came back home:
-I fumbled with my keys at the front door.
-I stumbled in at 2:45am, most likely waking my roommates.
-I remember walking into a clean room.
-I threw my possessions on my table, disrobed and went to sleep.
-I woke up to the world spinning and my head thumping.
-In my mouth there were Mardi Gras beads.
-At my feet there was loose change, my wallet, keys, watches and coupons.
-I was curious about that, so I rolled over and felt markers, pens, pencils, mints, and vitamins against my arms.
-After assessing the situation, I went to the bathroom to try and sort this mess out.
-I weighed myself on the scale just because it was there (as I did last night).
-I lost 5 lbs.
What the hell happened last night?
I'm really uncertain, which probably explains the ragtag way this post was pieced together. My head hurts too much to try and make some decent sense out of things and make this post lyrical. Besides, the taste of the lingering bile is really making me more nauseous. I'm going to eat some Lil' Smokies to try and rinse that flavor out.
Birthday weekend night #1 on the books.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Bathroom Etiquette
Times may change, but the bathroom rules are still the same, aren’t they?
-Don’t talk to anybody. Look straight ahead or down when you do your business standing up.
-Only nod at one another completely before or completely after finishing.
-Try your best to keep a buffer stall in between you.
When people choose to disregard these rules by engaging in any way, shape or form with me, I simply ignore them. They can talk to me outside when we’re done.
So anyway, I had a weird experience in the bathroom today.
I went to the executive floor of our building (where all of the six-figure money-makers sit). After running a couple of errands, I felt that I should just go ahead and empty my bladder really quickly, since the bathroom was right there. It’s eight-fifteen in the morning and I figure that means the place should be rather empty. Very wrong, Matthew. Very wrong.
The bathroom on that floor from left to right looks like this: Handicap stall, regular stall, urinal, urinal, two sinks, door. The door doesn’t have a handle, it’s one that just requires a simple push to open and close, kind of like a swinging door. Anyway, my tennis shoes barely made a sound as I quietly walked in, the swinging door gently closing quietly behind me. Immediately I noticed that there were already two people using both stalls, each with a pair of feet and bunched up pants gathered at the ankles. Unusual, because I thought that executives would much rather prefer to use their own, personal toilets at home instead of the public ones at work, but still, it didn’t bother me much. I have a feeling that they don't notice me, and sometimes I like to play a ninja game to see if I can get away with it. I use the stall furthest to the right, just to distance myself and quietly handle my business.
It’s during mid-stream when it happens. One of the guys in there lets out the most gnarly, grotesque, wet fart you’d ever heard. For a second, it’s almost so quiet that you could hear a pin drop on the floor. And for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though it would stay that way.
That’s when the other guy in the handicap stall started to giggle.
And then the guy who farted let out an exasperated laugh, too. While doing so, he farted again, unable to control his flatulence.
Which ultimately left them both laughing loudly together.
Now, I’m not one for open communication in the bathroom, but I thought that was funny as hell, so I joined in the laughter, thus making me nearly miss the urinal. Instantly, the room quieted. It just hit me that they hadn’t known I was in there. I didn’t know if I should feel embarrassed with them, or not. But whatever the case, I finished up in a hurry. After I was done, I quickly washed up and left the bathroom.
I know that I have a lot of things to take care of today, but I figure that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I hung around outside of the bathroom, tinkering with some stuff just down the hall inconspicuously monitoring the men's restroom door.
Turns out the CEO and the CFO walked out of the bathroom one minute after the other.
They’ll never know who the mystery laugh came from.
Don’t worry guys; your secret is safe with me.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Workout Afterglow
In 1996 I was considered by most kids in my sixth grade class as 'one of the most athletic guys.' I had a diamond-cutting six pack, calves the size of tree trunks, and pecs that could, if flexed, hold a quarter in between them.
By my graduating year in 2003 I still felt pretty good about myself in terms of my physical shape. My muscles felt leaner, my physique had strengthened with more rigorous workouts, and my metabolism had skyrocketed through the roof.
But, as with most things, youth gets replaced by experience, and the lines that once reflected the ripping cuts in my arms have since then slid further south, turning into mere folds in the skin that permanently flop over each other, flexed or not. I've succumbed to the daily routine that people call 'a rut': shuffling my feet this way and that, the days seemingly blurring together in a confusing weave of deadlines at work and families that need constant maintenance. I've even begun to look at the young kids walking around public arenas and wonder why they're so loud.
I'm turning 24 in less than a week.
It seems as though not only did I graduate college, but since that time in my life, I've graduated early into the next portion of my life: Getting old, fat, and lazy.
Strange questions start to fill my mind nowadays. Questions like: Where did the courage of youth go? When did the social pressures stop me from trying harder? Did I peak in college and not know it?
Though I look back at my past with fondness, I realize that there is one constant variable that has always, and will always, keep my heart racing towards doing better for myself: Girls.
Which is why, for some God-awful reason, I convinced myself that I should probably get back into working out again. I've got an awesome deal membership with 24-Hour Fitness ($20 a year to renew), but rarely do I use it. Instead, I fooled myself into thinking that I could get just as good a workout at home as I would at the gym, so I bought home equipment. Little did I know that the distractions at home (TV, free food, warm bed, internet) were far more consequential than those at the gym (grunting men, waiting for machines, hot girls doing squats).
A couple hundred wasted dollars later, I let those things collect dust in my room, alongside my cassette tapes and walkman, waiting until they too, become obsolete. That's when I ran into an old friend from high school. She had been doing well for herself: looking good, feeling good, making money. So, naturally, we got to talking about the good ol' days back in high school, which led to who had gotten fat since then, which inevitably moved into the 'let's go work out together' conversation.
Fantastic.
Today, I woke up with sores all over my body, and I have to go back with her there in half an hour.
As I sigh with each passing minute, dreading the heavy things they call 'weights' at the gym, I must make a point to keep my eyes forward. Because when all is said and done, the soreness is just a subtle reminder that I am that much closer to making a girl want to jump my bones.
Then again, I've been able to do that without the soreness before. So tell me... why the hell am I going to the gym again?
...Oh yeah, the hot girls doing squats. I think I need to say hi to them tonight.
By my graduating year in 2003 I still felt pretty good about myself in terms of my physical shape. My muscles felt leaner, my physique had strengthened with more rigorous workouts, and my metabolism had skyrocketed through the roof.
But, as with most things, youth gets replaced by experience, and the lines that once reflected the ripping cuts in my arms have since then slid further south, turning into mere folds in the skin that permanently flop over each other, flexed or not. I've succumbed to the daily routine that people call 'a rut': shuffling my feet this way and that, the days seemingly blurring together in a confusing weave of deadlines at work and families that need constant maintenance. I've even begun to look at the young kids walking around public arenas and wonder why they're so loud.
I'm turning 24 in less than a week.
It seems as though not only did I graduate college, but since that time in my life, I've graduated early into the next portion of my life: Getting old, fat, and lazy.
Strange questions start to fill my mind nowadays. Questions like: Where did the courage of youth go? When did the social pressures stop me from trying harder? Did I peak in college and not know it?
Though I look back at my past with fondness, I realize that there is one constant variable that has always, and will always, keep my heart racing towards doing better for myself: Girls.
Which is why, for some God-awful reason, I convinced myself that I should probably get back into working out again. I've got an awesome deal membership with 24-Hour Fitness ($20 a year to renew), but rarely do I use it. Instead, I fooled myself into thinking that I could get just as good a workout at home as I would at the gym, so I bought home equipment. Little did I know that the distractions at home (TV, free food, warm bed, internet) were far more consequential than those at the gym (grunting men, waiting for machines, hot girls doing squats).
A couple hundred wasted dollars later, I let those things collect dust in my room, alongside my cassette tapes and walkman, waiting until they too, become obsolete. That's when I ran into an old friend from high school. She had been doing well for herself: looking good, feeling good, making money. So, naturally, we got to talking about the good ol' days back in high school, which led to who had gotten fat since then, which inevitably moved into the 'let's go work out together' conversation.
Fantastic.
Today, I woke up with sores all over my body, and I have to go back with her there in half an hour.
As I sigh with each passing minute, dreading the heavy things they call 'weights' at the gym, I must make a point to keep my eyes forward. Because when all is said and done, the soreness is just a subtle reminder that I am that much closer to making a girl want to jump my bones.
Then again, I've been able to do that without the soreness before. So tell me... why the hell am I going to the gym again?
...Oh yeah, the hot girls doing squats. I think I need to say hi to them tonight.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ash Wednesday
Thought about Lent today.
Things I have given up in the previous seasons of Lent:
-Salt
-Soda
-Rice
-Youtube/Social Networking sites
-'Useless' dates with random girls
-Ketchup
-Fast food
-Self-gratification (for family-friendly readers, let's translate this as 'reading a magazine'; but for the rest of you... you know what? Let's just call it 'reading a magazine')
So I've thought long and hard (that's what she said) about what to give up for this season. And like thousands of other people who've brain-farted the issue every year, I've ended up at the same conclusion: I don't know. I could go down the route of 'making my life better' by adding things that I don't normally do (e.g. eat healthier, drink more water, work out more), but those things are not only boring, but they cause me irritation.
Eventually, I reach step-two of my yearly thought process: Lent is about sacrifice. Plain and simple. Jesus Christ sacrificed his life for me, and all I can give up is soda for forty days? Hell, I don't even drink that much in the first place! No, no. It has to be bigger. It has to be something that I've never thought I could ever live without, like my opposable thumbs, or both my kidneys, or you know, money.
I realize there are few pleasures in life that I absolutely adore, but none of them are things I want to stop doing for forty days. For example: taking my daily trips to the bathroom to relieve the turtle-head effect, or like... eating food I guess.
So it's back to step-one: What can I sacrifice that is worthy of God's Almighty Ultimate Super Gigantic Spectaculaaarrrrrrrrrrrr Sunday Sunday Sunday!!!!! (Ok, so Lent isn't exactly a Mexican-monster-truck rally, but you get the gist). Anyway, let's just say that I've decided on sacrificing something bigger than all of the Lenten promises before:
From now on, for forty days I am giving up saying "That's what she said"
Yes, you heard it first. It is the biggest sacrifice of my life, but I am determined to do it. Please, everyone help hold me to my promise. If you catch me saying that sentence in any fashion, force me to put $5 in a TWSS fund.
My goal is to have less than $25 there by the end of the forty days. Wish me luck. It's going to be really hard. THAT'S WHA----
DAMMIT!
P.S.
...Oh and just to ensure that I got my bases covered I'm also giving up putting seasoning/flavoring/sauces/dips etc. to already-prepared food (e.g. salt, ketchup, ranch, buffalo sauce, and many many others).
Things I have given up in the previous seasons of Lent:
-Salt
-Soda
-Rice
-Youtube/Social Networking sites
-'Useless' dates with random girls
-Ketchup
-Fast food
-Self-gratification (for family-friendly readers, let's translate this as 'reading a magazine'; but for the rest of you... you know what? Let's just call it 'reading a magazine')
So I've thought long and hard (that's what she said) about what to give up for this season. And like thousands of other people who've brain-farted the issue every year, I've ended up at the same conclusion: I don't know. I could go down the route of 'making my life better' by adding things that I don't normally do (e.g. eat healthier, drink more water, work out more), but those things are not only boring, but they cause me irritation.
Eventually, I reach step-two of my yearly thought process: Lent is about sacrifice. Plain and simple. Jesus Christ sacrificed his life for me, and all I can give up is soda for forty days? Hell, I don't even drink that much in the first place! No, no. It has to be bigger. It has to be something that I've never thought I could ever live without, like my opposable thumbs, or both my kidneys, or you know, money.
I realize there are few pleasures in life that I absolutely adore, but none of them are things I want to stop doing for forty days. For example: taking my daily trips to the bathroom to relieve the turtle-head effect, or like... eating food I guess.
So it's back to step-one: What can I sacrifice that is worthy of God's Almighty Ultimate Super Gigantic Spectaculaaarrrrrrrrrrrr Sunday Sunday Sunday!!!!! (Ok, so Lent isn't exactly a Mexican-monster-truck rally, but you get the gist). Anyway, let's just say that I've decided on sacrificing something bigger than all of the Lenten promises before:
From now on, for forty days I am giving up saying "That's what she said"
Yes, you heard it first. It is the biggest sacrifice of my life, but I am determined to do it. Please, everyone help hold me to my promise. If you catch me saying that sentence in any fashion, force me to put $5 in a TWSS fund.
My goal is to have less than $25 there by the end of the forty days. Wish me luck. It's going to be really hard. THAT'S WHA----
DAMMIT!
P.S.
...Oh and just to ensure that I got my bases covered I'm also giving up putting seasoning/flavoring/sauces/dips etc. to already-prepared food (e.g. salt, ketchup, ranch, buffalo sauce, and many many others).
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