Fa-la-la-la-laaaaaaaabah-humbug

I'm not sure when I became a humbug kind of guy. I don't dislike Christmas itself. But I dislike cheesy Christmas commercials. And I REALLY dislike most Christmas music. So I'm thankful that the holiday season is finally coming to a close.

I can't really get excited about getting gifts since nobody in the family can afford to get me the things I really want. But I do usually make sure I get myself a Christmas present. What was my gift to myself this year? Why, only the greatest dramatic television series ever.

And thanks to a heads up from Shannon's husband, I got it for $90. Yes, the list price really is $250. It just arrived today. I can't wait to dive in.

Also, I signed up for the cheapest version of Netflix which lets me get one movie at a time. But also, it allows me to stream certain movies directly to my TV through my Xbox, which is awesome. I've already used that 3 or 4 times.

Now, I just have to make it through the mother of all non-holidays, New Year's Eve. Oh, and then 2 to 3 more months of the ridiculously cold Ohio winter we're having. Guess I'll be spending lots of time inside watching movies. And hockey.

Good times.

Fan Is Short For Fanatic

Went to a hockey game tonight. Watched my favorite team, the Columbus Blue Jackets, win a game for a change. Went with a group of 8 people and had a really fun time.

I've often tried to think about humankind's obsession with sport from a detached point of view. I see the amount of money people are paid to play sports and when I compare it to what teachers are paid to teach or what cops and firefighters are paid to protect the public and I see the ridiculousness of it. I see what people are willing to pay to watch these athletes play these games and I see the absurdity of it. I see the numerous television channels devoted to breaking down every bit of minutiae related to all sports and I am capable of recognizing the absolute insanity of it. All this money and time and emotion invested in guys running back and forth, carrying and throwing a ball around or guys running back and forth, bouncing a ball and throwing it in a basket or guys skating around on ice shooting a piece of vulcanized rubber into a net. It really is ridiculous.

But even acknowledging this, I still have to admit that I love it. I love the unique skills these sports take and I love watching people who are very good at these things. I love the competition, everything. I love having a home team that I connect with and can root for. But I can't explain why. Why do I invest so much emotion into a sports team? Why does watching that team lose actually put me in a bad mood? Why does watching them win improve my mood? Why do I find the sports to be so compelling?

I don't know where I'm going here. I don't really have any answers to these questions. I suppose it's like any other hobby or pastime that any given person can have. It can be healthy if kept at a certain level or it can become unhealthy if it becomes something close to an obsession. Does the person who spends too much time on sports recognize it as it's happening? Do they see themselves wasting huge portions of their lives on something that at it's core is nothing more than a silly game? Or have they already slipped into denial at that point?

Part of me wonders what people could collectively accomplish if they took the money and energy they spent on sports and put it towards a more noble cause. But at the same time, I can recognize the good that can come from sports. I guess it's just a matter of maintaining the right perspective and keeping a healthy distance.

In the meantime, I'm going to keep spending money to watch guys skate around and hit a rubber puck into a net with a stick. And root for the guys wearing one color uniform to do it more than the guys wearing another color. That doesn't sound dumb at all, right?

RIGHT?

A Guest Once Again

I did another guest blog for my good friend Shannon over at From Milan To Minsk.

You can read it here.

Inebriation

I have a friend *coughHoovercough* that will often introduce me to people as "the Mormon". I realize that it's meant in a somewhat affectionate and joking manner, but I'm not going to lie, it's slightly irritating. I'm certainly not ashamed or embarrassed by the fact that I'm a Mormon, but I also certainly don't think that it is the only thing that defines me.

That being said though, it is a large part of who I am and why I do or don't do certain things. And I can't help but sometimes wonder what I would be like if I wasn't a Mormon and hadn't been raised with this specific belief structure.

For instance, would I drink? It's a hard question to answer. Obviously, if I hadn't been raised to not view drinking as something I shouldn't do, when the time came that I was exposed to it (high school) my attitude probably would have been very different and chances are I would have participated.

The better question might be, if I suddenly now decided to leave the Mormon church for some reason (not that I view this as a realistic "what-if") would I drink alcohol?

Honestly, I'm not sure. I can't remember a single time in my life where I seriously thought, "Boy, I sure wish I drank." It's never been something that I viewed as a pleasant vice to have. And even if it is a pleasant vice to have, very often it is paired with the unpleasantness of making an ass out of yourself to everyone around you.

I'm thinking specifically of a recent experience. On Halloween I went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert here in Columbus. I made the mistake of standing on the side of the pit with the bar. And let me tell you, this was a massive mistake. Picture yourself surrounded on all sides by drunken morons tanked completely out of their minds. There was moshing at this concert. Yes, moshing. Not fake moshing either. Drunken assholes throwing their full weight around, shoulders and elbows being thrown with no regard. An actual fist fight broke out between some tall, white trash bastard and Darth Vader. Yes, people were in costume. And I think alcohol must have some kind of deadening effect on the Force because let me tell you, Darth took an absolute beatdown. Add all that to the typical idiot standing right next to me, screaming at the top of his lungs for the one song he wanted the band to play (they didn't) while he tries (and several times, almost fails) to keep himself fully upright.

So when I witness things like this I just have to say...really? This is why people get drunk? To act like this? To do things that would be completely inexcusable in any other environment? Things that would cause me to be completely embarrassed for the next day and quite possibly require an apology? Gee, SIGN ME UP.

Living Up To The Title

I don't think you should be shocked that the writer of a blog titled "Low On Creativity" is having trouble coming up with topics to discuss.

So? What should I talk about?

Apparently there's some sort of election coming up. I'm not sure what that's all about.

Actually, shall we discuss my complete indifference regarding this election? Let's do that.

How can you be indifferent? This is THE MOST IMPORTANT ELECTION IN THE HISTORY OF OUR NATION!

Massive hyperbole.

You can probably guess that, based on my first name, I was raised in a pretty conservative leaning household. In many ways, mostly when it comes to fiscal governing, I still lean that way. In other ways, I've moved to a more moderate position. But really, my indifference is not about the issues.

I truly believe that our political system is severely broken. The two party dominated system is broken. Having my choices whittled down to two people, neither of which I think are even close to being the right person for the job, is a completely ridiculous way to run an election. I'm being asked to choose between being punched in the face or kicked in the face. I'm supposed to be excited about this?

Even worse than being forced to choose from two parties, no matter which party I decide to choose from I'm still being forced to vote for a politician. I am convinced that there isn't a politician out there that truly prioritizes the needs of the people ahead of the needs of themselves or their chosen party. These people don't have any idea what it's like to be a normal, working man/woman or if they ever did have an idea they've long forgotten. How can these people legitimately represent my interests and needs?

But here's the kicker: the election to decide who our next president will be is not that important. It isn't! This election, and all presidential elections, have been artificially inflated with regard to their impact on the average citizen. Inflated by the parties themselves and inflated by media conglomerates that have shed all pretense of being impartial and now work to whip people into a frenzy for their chosen candidate or against the opponent. And the reality is, people should be far more engaged in elections involving congressmen, governors, state legislators and even local government. I really think that the president has a lot less ability to affect our everyday, individual lives than the position is given credit for.

So, next Tuesday while pundits breathlessly update millions of viewers on electoral votes and exit polls, I will carefully be avoiding all news stations like the plague. I can't wait till it's over.

Funnier Without Context

Me: By the way, MY NIPPLES HURT!

Friend: Don't throw dancing pandas in my beer and that wouldn't happen!

This Is A Post Where I Annoy My Friends

So, first things first. Went grocery shopping last night and among the many things purchased were two of my favorite items, shown here:



I love dill pickles. Pickles on sandwiches, burgers, or just plain. They're great. And ranch is a fantastic condiment. And, yes, that is light ranch. That's just how I roll. Why would I bring up these two purchases in particular? Oh, no reason. No reason at all.

Also, the other night while at a birthday party for a good friend I was told by another friend, Hoover, who is a reader that I was slacking on the whole blog thing. Which is true. But then later I was told that all the songs I mentioned in this post "sucked".

Nevermind that musical taste is a completely subjective thing and obviously varies wildly from one person to another. They "sucked." Now, normally, I'd have come up with a sharp rejoinder but I think I was distracted by the very drunk birthday boy groping at my crotch, unlatching my belt and attempting to remove my pants. Why was he doing this? Well, yes, he WAS told by his sister and by me that his birthday present was in my pants. And yes, it was a blatant attempt to make a funny double entendre (I'd like to double HER entendre). But what it really meant was just that the hockey tickets she bought him were tucked into the waistband. PANTS REMOVAL NOT NECESSARY.

So, here is the proper response that should have immediately been given in person (I even thought of it soon after the initial conversation, but the moment had passed and it would have been out of place). I will be DAMNED if I am going to listen to any musical criticism from someone whose favorite band is HOOTIE & THE DAMN BLOWFISH. Yeah, sure, I bought their first album along with most of the entire country. I even bought their second album. And upon listening to it, realized that I had just paid a second time for the same damn album that I already had! And I just read something about how the singer gets annoyed when people refer to him as "Hootie". Hey genius! When you give your band the ridiculous name of Hootie & The Blowfish and you are the frontman for said band, I think its important that you reconcile yourself with the fact that you are going to be referred to by a lot of people as "Hootie". Get over it. Not everyone is going to get your dumb little inside joke. Don't expect me to take you seriously when the most memorable thing you've ever done is a (admittedly, hilariously bizarre) Burger King commercial!



Seriously, WTF is up is up with that?

Ahhhhhhh. All better now.

Don't worry, his feelings won't be hurt (Hoover, not Hootie). He is strangely impervious to criticism.

Quick Updates

Yeah, so the flu bug I had last week is lingering. Big fun. Friday I felt good. Saturday I felt like crap although improved in the evening. Yesterday I felt decent and again felt better in the evening. Today I felt like complete crap at work but I'm starting to feel a little better now. I'm not sure what the deal is with evenings. Although I did just take a bunch of vitamins and a couple of Advil.

The whole thing is massively inconvenient. I haven't had the energy to do things around the house that need done. Cleaning, some weeding...oh, and fixing my damn storm door!

Is it crass to complain about my broken door when others in the area went as long as a week without power and people in Texas had their homes destroyed? I don't care, I'm doing it anyway. The remnants of Hurricane Ike blew through central Ohio last Sunday and mixed with another system from the north and these ingredients resulted in the highest recorded winds in the area's history. Millions were without power yadda yadda. My power went out for about a minute. But during this windstorm a friend dropped by my place and I forgot to pull my storm door shut and make sure it latched because it usually closes really slow. So a few minutes later, the wind caught it and practically ripped it out of its frame. Luckily it didn't break the glass. I took it off the hinges and put it in the garage but now I'm going to have to replace some of the wood in the frame which is going to involve painting and who knows what else. Yes, it's a minor annoyance compared to what others have had to deal with but it's an annoyance nonetheless. And because of this stupid flu I haven't had the motivation to get started on it.

So, that's what is going on.

Now, enjoy this kick-ass song. It's a band called One Day As A Lion that is made up of Zach De La Rocha, frontman of Rage Against The Machine, and a drummer that used to play in The Mars Volta. They put out a 5 song EP during the summer. I like Rage but I wouldn't call myself a "Rage fan". And this is the only song of the five that I like, but I really like it. Flows well, good beat. If you don't like Rage, you probably won't like this though.

Hi!

Hello, internet. And by internet, I mean Shannon.

I feel like crap. Total crap. So, even though I have slacked about posting, you're going to have to endure a couple more days without my incredible insights. It will be hard, but you can do it.

Ok, I'm going to go throw up now.

Stealing Topic Ideas

Not much to write about these days so I'm stealing topic ideas from M2M. But it's OK, she stole it from someone else.

It's kind of amazing that I haven't really discussed music yet on the blog. I love music. LOVE it. Almost from the womb, it seems. My mom loves telling the story about how when I was very young, I would sit at the family piano and play two note chords over and over again. She'll always be sure to mention that I never banged on the keys like most kids do. I would just sit there playing two notes until I found a combination that sounded good and then play it over and over. This led my parents to have me start taking piano lessons at the ripe old age of 4 years old. Yes, 4. I took lessons up until I was around 16, I think, minus a year or two where I was burnt out on it. I don't play much these days, but I think I can still sit down in front of a piano and play a song or two. I don't know.

I started playing trombone in the 5th grade and played all the way through high school. The most fun was jazz band and, if I may brag a little bit (hey, it's my blog) I was pretty damn good. Haven't touched a trombone since though.

Also while in high school, I messed around on percussion a bit and taught myself to play drums to the point where I am able to hold my own behind a drum kit. Certainly not a great drummer though, very average and I haven't played one in years.

When I was a senior in high school there was a kid a couple of years younger than me who was a virtuoso at guitar and he gave me a broken electric guitar that he had glued back together. I learned a few songs but didn't play it that much. I think it was age 22 that I bought my first acoustic from a pawn shop and started teaching myself to play. I still play today and would classify myself as an average guitar player. Maybe slightly above average.

I'm a halfway decent singer too. I think I've got an OK voice.

This post has become very much me bragging but I'm just trying to say that I'm a very musical person. And I can't really brag about it too much because it is obviously something that I was blessed with from birth and I have very little to do with it.

So anyway, music is a huge part of my life, I love it and I love finding new music. A friend of mine was once trying to convince me to listen to a certain artist and said, "You'll like this guy, he isn't popular at all." Laughing, I responded that it isn't the fact that a band or artist is obscure that makes me like them. I just think that there is a lot of great music out there that most people haven't heard of. The mainstream music business generally sucks.

So I'm stealing the topic idea but modifying it a little bit.

Side note: My taste in music is generally limited to Rock. Granted, that covers a huge variety in styles and my taste within the rock genre varies wildly. But for the most part I don't like country, pop, hip-hop, R&B or rap. There are a few exceptions like this song which I think is great.

So, finally, the list. Here are

Seven Of My Favorite Songs By Bands That Most People I Know Have Never Heard Of

1. Solaris by Failure - That video is not the band video but just made by some random person. It's the only one on youtube I could find with the album version of the song. The song is from their amazing album, Fantastic Planet. I love the unconventionalness (I don't think that's actually a word. Spellcheck is angry at me.) of this song. Very odd chord progressions, changes in tempo, some strange dialogue in the middle that I don't know the source of.

2. How Near How Far by ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead - First of all, how awesome is that band name? This is another amateur video so just let the song play in the background or something. This is a band that I can't fully embrace because the guy is generally pretty bad at singing and it ruins a lot of their songs. He manages to do a decent enough job in this song that it doesn't detract from the amazing music. The transition in the middle where it just builds and builds is one of my favorite moments in all of music.

3. Turn The Lights On by Pilot Speed - Couldn't find the studio version so this (pretty good) live version is all you get. This is a very good Canadian band that used to go by the name Pilate. The chorus of this song has this amazing crescendo that just carries all kinds of emotion. Gives me chills. The song starts out sounding a little like Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars but in my opinion blows it out of the water. I certainly think the studio version is worth a buck on Amazon.

4. Stars by Hum - Be careful if you turn the volume up to hear the beginning...it's going to get loud. This was by far their biggest "hit". I might have picked another song of theirs but this one is the easiest to find for you to listen to. Kick-ass rock made by nerds. This song typifies the band's sound. Huge wall of guitars but great harmonies at the same time, weird science-related lyrics. I was looking through my former roommate's music one day and came upon their CD. He's the only person I know who's even heard of them, let alone likes them.

5. Annabelle by Heavens - Just discovered this band about a week ago and I really like them. I guess one of the guys is in Alkaline Trio if that means anything to you. I've heard of them but haven't heard any of their music. I like the guy's voice and the song has nice chord progressions and I like how they add and take away layers as the song moves along. The song really just hits me right for some reason.

6. Fashionably Uninvited by Mellowdrone - Another band I discovered in the last week. Actually sounds a bit like the band in my seventh entry. Love the changes from the soft verses to the loud chorus. And he pretty much plays the same note throughout the entire verse but all the other little things thrown in make in interesting. I like it when bands can take a minimalist approach but still make the music good.

7. Love Will Come Through by Travis - Love this song. I read someplace (maybe wikipedia) that Travis paved the way for bands like Coldplay but I think that they are a really good band in their own right. The vocal work on this song is great. They take a lot of different parts and bring them all together just right

So there you go. Hopefully you like at least one of the songs enough to look into the band some more.

The Endless War

I finished The Corner a couple of weeks ago and have since finished Generation Kill, both excellent reads. But of the three books I mentioned way back in this post, if I had to recommend only one that you should read, I'd have to say The Corner.

Homicide is a fascinating read, but I don't know how much it effects anyone. I don't think any of you are going to be killing anyone and hopefully, no one you know is killed in a manner that would require the services of a homicide detective.

Generation Kill is obviously timely and also very interesting. There is a little controversy regarding exactly how factual it is. Certain marines that were part of the events described in the book have argued with the way they are portrayed. But when you are portrayed as a bumbling idiot or an ineffectual leader, it makes sense that you would argue. So I would recommend reading it but read it with a critical mind and remember that two different people can often view the same events with very different perspectives.

The reason I would first recommend The Corner is because I think it does a wonderful job of breaking down a lot of the stereotypes and prejudices that we in the white middle class have about the drug culture and inner-city culture. You often hear, when discussing welfare and the awful circumstances of those born into the drug culture, that anyone can lift themselves out of the ghetto. If someone really wants to make something of themselves, they can no matter how terrible their childhood or upbringing. That's what America is all about, right? I'm sure that 99% of the time you hear these arguments from someone who is white and a member of the middle or upper class. This idea is an absolute fallacy. Anyone who truly believes this lives in a dream land. It is nearly impossible for us to really imagine the reality of what growing up in the drug culture is like.

Picture a child born to parents who are both heroin addicts. A father who is rarely around and even if he was, isn't capable of providing any real fathering. A mother who is there in body but rarely present as a real nurturer. Both parents live day-to-day, week-to-week, barely getting by, living only for the next blast of heroin. This child is out on the drug corner before even getting close to starting puberty. They may even work sometimes as a lookout for a drug crew. The parents can't stop it because, who are they to say anything? This child's entire life is colored by the culture of the drug corner. If this child even does make it to school with any regularity they are taught from a curriculum that can in no way relate to what their everyday life is and they are taught by teachers that are handcuffed by this system, if they're lucky enough to have a teacher that even cares at all anymore. And you think that this child has any real chance? No, this is a lie that we tell ourselves to make us feel better about being incapable of doing anything to change it.

And that's the real problem. Even being aware of how broken the system is and how completely screwed most of these kids are, I'm no more capable of seeing a real solution than anyone else. The entire thing is one endless circle of catch-22's layered on top of each other. Upon finishing the book I felt an abject hopelessness. These kids seem doomed to repeat the mistakes of their parents and start the whole thing over again.

So, is it a happy book? Definitely not. But I do think it is a fantastic window into a culture that I think very few of us really understand. And you'll be a better person for attempting to understand it.

Bring Back Note-Passing!

Yes, I have mad Microsoft Paint skills.

Everyone remembers this, right? Of course you do. You'd pass this note to the cute girl in 4th grade. And then she'd pass it back with a very heavy, emphatic check mark in the "no" box along with several ha-ha-ha's written in next to it for good measure. At least, that's how it happened with me.

I'm forced to ask the question, is there some good reason that as we aged and supposedly matured, we went away from this method of determining romantic interest? Was there any real flaw in this as a device to inform us whether or not we should invest more effort or emotion into the pursuit of a certain someone? Seriously, it's simple and direct. It gets right to the point and saves everyone involved a whole lot of time and energy.

The thought that's been running around in my head lately is this: why is it that almost everyone, even people who in all other aspects of their lives appear to be grown-up, matured, adult...why is it that when it comes to dating, almost everyone reverts back to middle school? I suppose this would be a good spot for specifics.

I'm going to keep this story as short as possible. Ask girl out on date. Girl says yes, seems somewhat enthusiastic. Take girl out. Date goes reasonably well, from my point of view. Seems less awkward than the average first date. We talk, laugh, have a good time. We even hit some subjects that are less shallow than the average first date conversation. After the date, we talk a couple of times. Conversation is easy, nice. Girl is about to head out on a week vacation, suggest we get together again when she gets back. See girl in a non-date situation just before she leaves on vacation. Girl is suddenly walking past me without looking at me. Basically ignoring me. I practically have to grab her to force her to acknowledge my presence. Came right out and pretty much asked the straightforward question, can I call you when you get back? She says yes. Wait till she's been home three days before calling in an attempt to not look overly eager. She doesn't answer, I leave a message, she never calls back. Game over, I'm done.

I haven't seen her since, although it will happen fairly soon and I'm going to have to restrain myself from screaming HOW F---ING OLD ARE YOU? Seriously! What is it in your genetic makeup that makes you incapable of just saying, "Hey, I'm just not that interested." Do you have any idea how refreshing that would be?

Don't get the wrong idea here. I'm not all that upset over it. It was one date. I wasn't in love or puppy-love or whatever. My heart is not broken, in case you were concerned. It's just the frickin' principle of the thing. Ignore me and not return a phone call? How rude and just plain childish. I drove two hours to take you out on a date, the least you could do is have the decency to return a damn phone call.

A few years ago there was a girl who was in Columbus on an internship for about 4 or 5 months in the summer and fall. She was hanging out with the same friends as I was and we got to know each other and I asked her out. We went on a first date and when I asked for a second date, she expressed a desire to keep things casual and friendly. And we did exactly that. Hung out with our mutual friends and became pretty good friends ourselves. And even though I harbored a crush on her for the rest of the time she was here, it was totally fine. She was straightforward and up-front and honest with me and I will forever respect her for that. Unfortunately, this experience is very rare.

I hate dating. Hate it. Don't hate relationships, hate dating. And this most recent attempt at it is why. The positive experiences are definitely outnumbered by the negative ones. And I continually ask myself why I would subject myself to this frustration again and again.

Hello, I Have No Life

Not much going on these days. I'm currently reading The Corner and it is, as expected, very good. I've just about run out of superlatives with which to describe David Simon. If I sound like a man obsessed, it's because I am a little.

I'll probably post about it more when I'm done. I'm probably about a third of the way in. Thus far it has confirmed something that I've thought at least since I saw the movie Traffic. That is that the so-called "drug war" our various governments are fighting is an exercise in futility, at least the way it is currently being fought. I'll elaborate once I've finished the book. I'm not sure Simon will offer up a proposed solution. I certainly can't think of one.

Also been keeping up with Generation Kill and it is very good. Very much looking forward to reading the book.

Oh, it has also recently been confirmed that I am very much in the right in hating the dating process. More on that some other time.

Art Major

You look at that body. You look at that body as if it were some abstract work of art, stare at it from every conceivable point of view in search of deeper meanings and textures. Why, you ask yourself, is this body here? What did the artist leave out? What did he put in? What was the artist thinking of? What the hell is wrong with this picture?

I finally finished Homicide: A Year On The Killing Streets late last night. And boy, what a read. I don't know that you could get any more into the minds and lives of homicide detectives without living with them yourself.

Once of the things that struck me was the absolute detachment with which the detectives view their jobs. This is not how they make it look on TV or in the movies. Police detectives are often depicted as becoming emotionally attached to their victims. They're shown to take the crimes personally. With few exceptions, this is not the case. As Simon writes, "A good investigator, leaning over a fresh obscenity, doesn't waste time and effort battering himself with the theological questions about the nature of evil and man's inhumanity to man. He wonders instead whether the jagged wound pattern is the result of a serrated blade, or whether the discoloration on the underside of the leg is indeed an indication of lividity...that professional ethos is part of what keeps any detective from the horror..."

This only makes sense. Even though the book is really about the men who investigate these crimes, you learn plenty about the crimes and criminals themselves. And if you didn't know it before, you will learn that there is no limit to what one human being will do to another, given the proper motivation. So, how else to survive in a job like this? How do you remain sane when day after day you immerse yourself in the absolute evil of the world? Gallows humor. Detachment. Separation. That body on the ground is not a human being, but a piece of evidence. As fascinating as the job is to me, I don't think I could do it.

Anyway, I could go on and on. If you are even slightly interested in the subject, I strongly recommend reading this book.

The Great Swindle

I've already talked about getting older. This is different. Sort of. But yesterday at work, I had a moment where I felt like I have pulled the wool over the collective eyes of the world. An epiphany, if you will. I've tricked people into believing I'm someone else. Someone...responsible. An adult.

You see, despite my argument that video games have become the pastime of grownups, I still don't feel like one. I'm the same goofy kid that attempted to steal a trash can from the local mall. That's right, a trash can! We'll talk about that some other time. Maybe.

But my point is, I still laugh at farts. C'mon, they're funny! I still laugh at jokes concerning most bodily functions and, hell I'll say it, body parts. If someone says something that is completely innocuous but can be turned into a double entendre, I do it in a heartbeat. The other night at dinner, my former roommate's fiance said, in front of him and me, that she didn't like sucking. I'll leave it to you to imagine what our reactions were. I find it difficult to take anything seriously. I'm one of the most sarcastic people you'll ever meet. If someone leaves me an opportunity to turn something they said into an insult against them, I usually do it without thinking. Seriously, it's gotten me in trouble at times. I'm a kid.

So, all of this and I've somehow managed to con people into thinking that I am some responsible citizen who can be trusted with all kinds of stuff. I stood up from my desk at work yesterday and looked around the office and realized that I don't just have a job, I have what's turning into a career. I've been there for two and a half years. In that time, I've received one promotion and I'll hopefully be getting another one in the next year or two. I get paid a decent amount of money to do what I do. Not great money, but decent enough for a guy without a college degree. Not only that, but they've given me pretty high access to information that is sensitive. Social Security Numbers and income levels and all that. If I were a dishonest individual, I could do some bad things. Hell, a few months ago a bank decided to give me $100,000 to buy a house! Me! That's a lot of money.

So I'm slowly being surrounded by all this evidence that I'm becoming a responsible adult and I can't help but feel like I've fooled everyone. It's surreal, in a way.

Will this feeling ever go away? I suppose that it does for some people. Maybe most people. But it's hard to imagine not ever feeling like this. If I do ever get married, I can see myself still feeling this way about everything but then just adding the question, How did I ever trick this poor woman into believing that I'm marriage material? I can see myself with a kid and thinking, Who decided that it would be a good idea to let me be involved in the raising of a human life?

And I can for damn sure see myself at 70 years old, laughing uncontrollably at my own farts. Which, at that age, will probably be just as uncontrollable as the laughing.

My Man Crush Continues

I continue to develop man-love for David Simon.

This weekend, the manifestation of this love was a trip to Barnes & Noble to purchase three books. I haven't bought a book since I got my library card and starting devouring novels at a ridiculous rate. These three purchases are all non-fiction and I had no qualms about laying down hard-earned....well, earned....cash for them. Here they are in the order I will be reading them.

Homicide: A Year On The Killing Streets

Simon was a reporter for the Baltimore Sun. He spent a year with a squad of homicide detectives with the Baltimore Police Department. The book became the basis for the NBC television show Homicide: Life On The Street which was my favorite show of all time until the David Simon-created show The Wire aired on HBO. I'm about 150 pages in and so far it is a fantastic book. This guy can write. Already, there have been two or three cases that I remember were used in the first season of the show. Truth is, as they say, stranger than fiction.

The Corner: A Year In The Life Of An Inner-City Neighborhood

After following the police, Simon spends a year with the people that live and work on the drug corners of Baltimore. Apparently, a lot of the information he learned writing this book was used in the fourth season of The Wire which, as I mentioned in the previous post about the show, is a genuine masterpiece. The Book was made into a miniseries that aired on HBO back in 2000 that I'm attempting to get my hands on.

Generation Kill

Rolling Stone writer Evan Wright rolled into Iraq in the opening days of the invasion with a group of Marines. The book was also turned (by David Simon) into an HBO miniseries that is currently airing on Sunday nights. Two parts have aired so far and I'm enjoying them a lot. Movies and television shows about a war that is still in progress have fared poorly. This show may not be any different, but I can tell you that so far, it is not preachy at all. It is focusing a lot on the young Marines in the squadron.

More proof, as far as I'm concerned, that David Simon can do no wrong.

Yes, I Play Video Games, Shut The Hell Up Already

A year or two ago, my former roommate went out on a date with some chick that he met...somewhere. I can't be any more specific than that because he actually doesn't remember her. When I reminded him of this story, he didn't remember it at all. Must have been a great date, right?

So, she meets him at our apartment and at the time she arrives, I'm sitting on the couch winding down after work, as I often do, playing a video game. Now, this girl has never met me before. She doesn't know me from Adam. So what are the first words out of her mouth? Something along the lines of "Video games? Really? How old are you guys?" How rude are some people? This chick had the nerve to walk into someplace where she was a guest and belittle someone she'd never met because of how they spend their free time. Now that I think about it, she shoots to number one on the list of People Who Need To Be Punched In The Neck.

I'm pretty sure the response that first entered my mind was an R-rated string of invective. But, and I know you'll be shocked at this, I held my tongue and ignored her since she and my roommate were heading back out the door and I assumed at that point that maybe he could get some action and I didn't want to ruin it. Although, again, based on the fact that he doesn't remember her, that probably didn't happen.

But the point is: Yes, world, I'm thirty-one and I enjoy playing video games in my leisure time and I'd appreciate it if you would just shut the hell up about it already.

The whole stigma of adults playing video games has always been sort of baffling to me. I don't really understand why one form of mindless entertainment is superior to another. Do you mean to tell me that spending 3 nights a week sitting on your couch watching American Idol is more intellectually stimulating than me being in a game, interacting with real people and sometimes working and cooperating with those people to achieve a goal? Yes, the goal is virtual and denoted by a bunch of pixels on a screen and is meaningless in the grand scheme of things, but the point remains. I may even go so far as to say that interacting with real people over the Internet is more beneficial than sitting and watching ET every night because you absolutely have to know what's happening right this very minute with OMG ANGELINA JOLIE'S TWINS!

But video games are the diversion of adolescent boys, right? As they say, never let the facts get in the way of a good argument. But let's go ahead and look at some facts, shall we? The Entertainment Software Association just released the findings from their annual demographics survey. Here's a few interesting points:

• 65 percent of American households play computer and video games;
• The average game player is 35 years old;
• One out of four gamers are over age 50;
• Forty percent of gamers are women;
  
• Women age 18 or older represent a significantly greater portion of the game-playing population (33 percent) than boys age 17 or younger (18 percent).

That's right! I'm actually younger than the average game player! So suck it, random chick!

This really shouldn't surprise anyone capable of using even the simplest logic. People born in the 70's are the people who were playing Activision and Atari and the first Nintendo and the Sega Genesis in the 80's. And those people are now in their thirties. It makes perfect sense that the hobbies and pastimes of our youth would be similar to the hobbies and pastimes we have in adulthood. I'm pretty sure that The Sims is as close to an adult version of playing with dolls as there is. There are video games these days that are written and tailored specifically to adults, games that are essentially interactive movies. I think it's high time that non-gamers come down off their pedestal and find another group to criticize so they can feel good about themselves. The day is fast approaching when they will be in the minority.

Yes, video games can have a negative effect. Yes, video games can become addictive. Just like watching television! Or smoking crack! Almost everything in existence can be addictive. Gaming, like any other pastime, requires self-control. And yes, of course the games that young kids play need to be regulated by their parents, not our Big Brother government. But there is nothing in that regard that sets video games apart from music, television, or movies.

Video games are here to stay as a mainstream form of entertainment. And, yes, that makes ME mainstream. Difficult concept to grasp, I know. You can come the next time I have a group of friends over to play Rock Band and we can talk about it.

Addicted To Words

It seems like when it comes to reading, people really only need to be divided into two categories: readers and non-readers. Either you love reading and really enjoy spending time reading a good book or you don't. There doesn't seem to be much of an in between area.

I've wondered what it is that makes some people readers and some not. People who read may be considered, by some, to be more intellectual but I don't think that has much to do with it. I know plenty of people who are intelligent, thoughtful people but have, at some point, used the phrase, "I"m not much of a reader." Does it come down to the whole Nature vs. Nurture thing? I can't remember anything specific that my parents did, any sort of tradition that would have pushed me in the direction of being a reader. I know that my sisters enjoy reading now but I don't think they devoured books as voraciously as I did when I was a kid.

It seems like I was reading books almost right from the womb. I have clear memories of myself as a kid standing next to my bed, getting ready to go wherever, but being slowed in my task considerably by the fact that there was an open book on the bed that I continued to read as I dressed. I could not stop.

Unfortunately (at least today, anyway), that hasn't changed in adulthood. Last night, I headed off to bed at about midnight, which is my normal time. This is the life of a night owl. I often hear newly married people talk about how now that they are married, they go to bed at 9 or 10 o'clock and I just mark it down as one more reason not to get married. I may be part vampire. Anyway, my typical nighttime once-I'm-in-bed ritual is to read for 10 or 15 minutes from whatever book I'm reading at the moment and then turn the light off and go to sleep. I'd always love to keep reading but because I'm not spoiled and don't have the ability to work from home, I have to get up at 7 and be to work by 8. But last night, I absolutely could not stop. I'm currently reading this book and it just so happened that the part I started reading last night was when the story was getting really, really REALLY DAMN GOOD and I could not stop reading until around 2:30 in the morning. And believe me, when your job involves sitting in front of a computer monitor all day, having 4 hours of sleep SUCKS. It is impossible not to get Old-man-at-church Syndrome (also called MY-DAD Syndrome) and start worrying that your neck is going to snap the next time you nod off. I wanted to stop. Even as I was reading, the thought was in the back of my mind that I was going to have a really hard time at work today. However, the front of my mind was saying SHUT THE HELL UP BACK THERE. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. So I kept reading. And yes, work really sucked today. And I'm almost done with the book so it's for sure going to happen again tonight and there isn't a thing I can do about it.

So, are you a reader? What do you think made you or didn't make you a reader?

Two Cats For The Price of One

Since over at M2M it's been all, new dog this and cute puppy that!, I figure it's time for a balanced opinion.

I like cats better than dogs. It's true! Most people I know find this odd but it's the truth. Growing up we always had a dog. We did get a couple of cats when I was in high school but they were outside cats so we didn't get to see them as much. Maybe that's why I grew up with a preference to cats. You always want what you don't have, right?

But now, cats just seem more logical to me as a pet. Dogs slobber. Dogs are always jumping all over people. Some dogs can be damn loud. A friend of mine has a dog with an absolutely eardrum-rupturing bark. No matter how clean people keep their dogs, it seems that if you spend a couple of minutes petting it your hands always end up smelling like...well, dog. Even clean dogs have a dog smell.

Cats, on the other hand, are much quieter than dogs. They are cleaner than dogs. They require almost no training as to where they are supposed to do their business. They don't smell. If you don't neglect the litter box, it won't smell either.

Really, though. Is it any surprise to anyone that I prefer a pet that is generally aloof and a loner? It really shouldn't.

So 7 years ago I moved out of a house I had been sharing with several friends and into my own apartment. And I decided to get a cat. The process of obtaining a cat is a lot less stressful than getting a dog. People getting dogs obsess over the breed and size and etc. Is this breed good with kids? Is this breed going to end up the size of a horse? Is there a chance that this breed is going to one day decide to use one of the neighbors as a chew toy? When someone decides to get a cat, usually what you do is just find someone whose cat just had kittens and they give you one. Boom, you've got a cat.

So that's what I did. A coworker's cat had just had kittens so I took one pretty much right after he was weened. Because my favorite comic was and still is Calvin and Hobbes, it was only natural that he be named Hobbes. And in those 7 years, this


has turned into this.


Believe me, that second picture does not properly illustrate how stupidly big he has become. He is a beast.

The reason I'm posting about him now is that he just yesterday arrived at the new house to live with me. He got here at about 3:30 or so and promptly went under the couch and didn't come out until 12:30 am. You see, for the last two years, I've been living with a roommate that is allergic to cats. So Hobbes has been living with my parents. Now that I'm alone, however, my parents felt it was time to transfer ownership back to me and so here he is.

Now, the thing that I have learned after owning him is that while I prefer cats over dogs, I prefer having NO pets over both. I think that this will be the last pet I ever own. It's not that he's a bad pet. He's even pretty amusing sometimes. The problem with him is his HAIR. HAIR EVERYWHERE! This is why I don't want a pet ever again. Who knows what mix of breeds Hobbes is but it is clear that he is closer to a long-haired breed than a short-haired one. I even bought one of these in anticipation of his arrival. They're supposed to be great at reducing shedding. So once Hobbes adjusted to the new house and decided to come out from under the couch, I took him into the kitchen and used it on him. For like, 20 minutes. This is what I ended up with last night.

Seriously! Look at all that! I used the damn thing on him again this morning for about 10 minutes and got another pile about a third of the size of that one. It shows no signs of stopping! I've removed enough hair from this little bastard to create another cat! I'm eventually going to have a completely naked cat, right? That is a ridiculous amount of hair.

I suppose I'll keep using it on him daily for the next couple of weeks and hope that it slows down. But I can see I'm going to be vacuuming this place a lot more often than I would have to otherwise.

But honestly, I'm fine with having him. He is amusing at times. He spent the night by my feet under the blanket. My house is near the airport and I think the airplane noises might be freaking him out a little. At one point this morning I kicked him out and he looked at me like WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, GET ME KILLED? and immediately burrowed right back under there.

So there he is. Meet Mr. Hobbes. This will be the last time (probably) I post about him. Be grateful.

Spreading My Nonsense All Over The Web

My good friend, Shannon, asked me to be a guest blogger on her site.

I agreed. You can read it here.

More From My Lovely Coworkers!

Overheard today from one of my female coworkers:

"Man, I'm having a hot flash! Does anyone here want a couple of ovaries and a uterus?"

My response was a blank stare with a dash of horrified look.

An Ideal Sleep Aid

Conversation with my coworker who everyday works 6:30 am to 3:00 pm.

Me: Do you find yourself waking up early on the weekend because you get up so early during the week, even if you've stayed up really late?

Coworker: No, not really. Although the 40 to 50 beers probably helps.

Me (nodding): Yeah, I would imagine.

Unintentional Comedy

So, I'm not ashamed to say that I think the funniest part of last night's post might just be contained in the link I posted to the explanation on tornado warnings.

The advice for what to do if you're in a mobile home is awesome.

For every other situation, it gives you several suggestions as to what you should do if you are in an area with a tornado warning. All kinds of options. And it even tells you that if you are in a frame home you definitely shouldn't leave to try to outrun the tornado. But if you're in a mobile home? It has one, single suggestion:

"Leave your mobile home immediately and take shelter elsewhere."

That's it! If there's one thing that years and years of observing the weather has taught us, it's that it is better to be absolutely anywhere else other than a mobile home if there's a tornado. Nothing else needs to be said! Get the hell out and go somewhere else. Anywhere! If you have a windmill, climb to the top of the damn thing because it will STILL be safer than in your trailer.

Really, though, I don't think that this advice is only applicable for when there is a tornado. I sort of have this general rule that I follow that says, "If you find yourself in a mobile home at any time, for any reason, leave immediately and go somewhere else." I think it is good advice.

People I'd Like To Punch In The Neck

OK, so I need to do something to get rid of the stink of all the cheese contained in my previous post. Open a window, or something.

How about talking about my favorite coworkers? OK! Sounds like fun!

Let's start out with one I've never met and whose name I don't even know. I don't even know what area she works in and I only see her every once in a while as I walk around the building. Well then, what could possibly make this person noteworthy at all, you might ask? The fact that every time I see her, she's wearing one of these:


Yes, this woman, who by my observation must be in her late 40's or probably 50's, is wearing a hat with a propeller. To work. A government job. Every day. I've never seen her without it. I don't know how she gets away with it. Although, from what I've been told, she's big in the union. So management probably has decided that it would be too much of a hassle to get her to stop looking like a retard.

Yeah, I said it! A retard! Because seriously, what other adults do you see wearing stuff like that? That's right, special people! Go ahead, say it! It's OK to be un-PC. And honestly, even the people who are only mildly "mentally challenged" would probably look at her and say, "Jeez, she looks like a damned retard."

So, who else needs a good punch in the neck? How about the prissy chick who apparently attempts to drown herself in perfume every morning? Yes, dear, I saw you drive into work in your BMW, which I'm VERY sure you can afford on your clerk's salary. Must be nice to have a sugar daddy to buy you all the ridiculously gaudy clothes and jewelry you wear to work. And I'm assuming that huge vats of perfume large enough for you to dip yourself in aren't cheap. That look I get on my face when we pass? That is not a look of desire. That's the look I get right before I throw up. The area in a three feet radius around you is almost completely devoid of oxygen. Please do something about it.

Finally, guy in the cubicle adjacent to mine. He's actually not a bad guy. I like talking to him, he's funny and everything. But he listens to the radio all day. With no headphones. And it's a, and I'm quoting their promo, "classic soul and R&B" station. Fantastic. I get to listen to 8 hours a day of what sounds like large women being strangled. On days when I've taken my mp3 player home to charge and forgotten to bring it back in? Those days just seem to go a little slower. So, despite how nice he is, he still deserves a punch in the neck. Maybe just a tap to the neck. Something to get his attention. Not a crush-your-larynx punch like the previous two.

OK, I should go now. There is some sort of siren blaring outside my window. I think it means I'm supposed to run outside and stare at the sky, right? Next time, I'll be posting from Oz. Goodbye, gentle readers!

Sailing The Seas Of Cheese

Anyone who even knows me remotely knows that am anything but cheesy. I hate cheesy. No, that's not good enough. I loathe cheesy. I hate cheesy movies, I especially hate cheesy commercials. The people who come up with Coke commercials? I want to punch all of them in neck. But I don't know how to write this post without being cheesy. I've been putting this post off for a while now. I'm not sure how to say the things I really want to say so I'm just going to start typing and see what comes out. I'll do my best to keep the cheese to a minimum but if things get a little schmaltzy, I'm not going to fret over it. And you can bite me.

So here goes.

I've been living in the Columbus, Ohio area for 10 years now. I had spent my high school years about 45 minutes east of here and then went out of the country for 2 years. When I came back, my family had moved into the Central Ohio area and I've been here ever since.

Columbus has probably always been a college town. Ohio State University is one of the largest (I think it is currently the largest) colleges in the country. In recent years, Columbus and some Columbusites have worked to try and shed the college town label but at its heart, it is still just that. And seeing that I attend a church congregation made up entirely of single, college-age people, it's only natural that I would make friends with people that have ended up in Columbus for the sole purpose of attending Ohio State (or the purpose of dating and eventually marrying someone who came for the purpose of attending Ohio State). And most of the time, those friends end up leaving the area once their time at Ohio State is done.

Therefore, over the last 10 years, my friendships have come in cycles. I can think of 3 distinct groups of friends that I've had and there have also been small periods of time in between those cycles where I didn't have any real close friends and was somewhat of a hermit. Well, the third cycle has recently ended and not only was it the absolute best of the three, I'm thinking that the probability that a fourth will begin is pretty low. College kids: I keep getting older while they stay the same age.

So, how to properly give tribute to these 3 people who have been so much of my life for the last three or so years? I don't know, that's where I'm having trouble. What did we do all that time that made things so much fun? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And it was everything we thought it could be. So many meals at Chili's that I don't think I'd be able to eat there with anyone else and truly enjoy it. So many late nights watching our favorite TV shows or movies or just staying up talking about global warming or our (mostly Ted's) bathroom habits or whatever else happened to be on anyone's mind at any given moment. We did nothing and I honestly can't think of any other way I'd have rather spent my time. I think I've laughed more with these three people than with anyone else in my life. I've vented more with these three people than with anyone. Really, I've probably just talked more with these three people than I have with anyone. I can't think of anyone else who knows me better.

The concept of marriage frightens me for many reasons but one of the big ones is, how can you be really sure that you want to spend the rest of your life with this one person? I can be a surly bastard and I can be really impatient with people that bore me. How can I be sure that I won't meet someone, get all twittery, fall in love, get married and then five or ten years down the road wake up one day and look at her and realize, holy crap you bore the hell out of me! I don't know, but I do know that I am sure that I would never get bored of having Justin, Shannon, and yes, even Ted as my best friends.

Over the last week or two, I've been thinking about this in the context of family. I love my family. They're one of the reasons I have no desire to leave Columbus. I know that they love me and will support me in just about anything. But at the same time, I love them sort of because I have to love them. They're my family, right? You don't get to choose your family. You're placed down with this group of people that will have a larger effect on you than any other group, for better or for worse. Initially, you have to love them and, if you're lucky, they'll be the kind of people that you will still love when you become old enough that loving them becomes a choice.

But friends? Friends are the people that you get to choose. They're the people that you choose to love. It's totally up to you from the very beginning. You have no obligations to them. If they treat you wrong, you can sever the relationship and have no strings tying you to them in any way. In my mind, there's nothing better than a truly good friend. One that you trust implicitly because you know them and they know you and you know you can. In the first two of those cycles of friends, there was really only one that fit that definition. Someone that I considered to be like a brother. But of this last group? I was lucky or blessed or both in that all three fit that definition completely.

Guys, if I could choose the people that I would be next-door neighbors with for the rest of my life, it'd be you. I'm happy for you for the things you've accomplished and I'm glad you're able to move on to new phases in your lives. But I'm also a little bitter and angry at the universe and more than a little sad that your moving on involves actually moving away from here. I sort of always knew it was coming but the reality of it actually sucks a lot more than I imagined it would.

I miss you guys already. Thanks for letting a bastard like me be your friend.

The Throne

Confession: I have played Tetris on my phone while sitting on the toilet at work.

Bigger confession: I recently did the same thing at home...in my own bathroom.

Stop looking at me like that, interweb.

Come on. It was one of those times when I just needed to sit there a while and make sure the job was totally finished. Don't tell me it's never happened to you. You just gotta make sure there aren't going to be any fashionably late arrivals to the party. There's nothing worse than pulling your pants up (or putting your pants back on, if you're Ted) and walking away from the toilet only to realize you have to head right back and sit down again. Right?

RIGHT?

Endorsement

I have no intention of this becoming a blog where I regularly review television shows or movies. There are plenty of other places for that in the vastness of the interweb. But there is one thing I do want to share with whoever the hell is reading this, if anyone. I suppose I feel a sort of responsibility to tell everyone I know about this particular television show.

By way of some brief background, back in the 90's there was a show on NBC called Homicide: Life On The Street. It was, at its core, a cop show. Set in Baltimore, it featured a large ensemble cast that changed quite a bit over its seven season run. It was dark, it was gritty, it was real. It was chosen by Time's tv writer was one of the best 100 shows of all time. And it became my favorite show and remains one of my favorite shows to this day.

It was based on a book by a former Baltimore newspaperman named David Simon. I loved the show so much that I committed his name to memory and assumed that pretty much anything he ever did would be genius.

A few years ago I began hearing and reading things about a show on HBO called The Wire. After hearing enough praise, I did some hunting and, lo and behold, it was created, produced and written by the very same David Simon. I immediately set about acquiring the show so that I could test my theory about the man's genius. I was not proven wrong.

The Wire is very similar to Homicide. Large, ensemble cast. Set in Baltimore. Largely revolves around the Baltimore Police Department. But it is much more than a simple cop show. It is a show about bureaucracy, politics, education, the drug war, the working class, the media and more. It is the most realistic television show I've ever seen. And I believe it is one of the most important, if not THE most important shows to ever air on television. If that is hyperbole, I think it's only slight. In the same way that I believe Schindler's List should be required viewing for anyone undertaking even a cursory study of World War II and the Holocaust, I believe that The Wire, along with the movie Traffic, should be required viewing for anyone who wishes to discuss how crime is fought and specifically the war on drugs. I don't want to get preachy, but any preconceptions I had about the hopelessness of the lower class and their ability to improve their situation were completely changed after watching this show, along with many other opinions I held about a myriad of topics.

Let me give a couple of caveats. The Wire is not an easy show to watch. You absolutely have to give it 3 or 4 episodes before you start to feel comfortable with everything going on and putting names to all the faces. The cast is so large and the show takes so little time for character introduction that it can be confusing and overwhelming. Give it time. I would recommend watching it in blocks of 2 or 3 episodes at a time. And don't try to watch it while doing other things. You have to pay attention. Stick with it. Also keep in mind that this was an HBO show and, as such, is very 'R' rated. But if you think life in inner city Baltimore ( or inner city anywhere) isn't 'R' rated, you go stick your head back in the sand.

The Sopranos is another HBO show that aired partly during the same period and got much more attention and praise. Having watched both, I believe The Wire is the superior show, by far. If you get through the first season and don't agree that it is an amazing show, then I have serious questions about your taste and judgment and we're going to have a long talk about whether or not we can continue being friends. Season 4 is an absolute masterpiece of storytelling.

So, go. Watch it. And enjoy it. Not only is it a fantastic show as far as social commentary and the lessons it teaches, but it is just an all around good show. Great writing, acting, extremely well done. A+ entertainment.

Nerves!

Hello, readers. All two of you.

I close on the house Friday morning and I'm awash in phone calls, faxes, moving plans etc. And chewing my fingernails to the bone. I'm sure everything is going to go fine but that doesn't mean I can't be a little nervous, right?

I'll try to get some sort of epic post up next week.

The Great Conversationalist

This happened a long time ago, but it gets brought up every once in a while and every time it's just as funny. Although, the hilarity probably won't translate very well into a written story and it'll end up being something that I have to explain away with the standard "you had to be there" answer. But I'm telling it anyway.

Hound Dogs has absolutely fantastic pizza. Yes, I just linked to myspace. I feel awful about it but it's the only sort of official site I could find for the place. And I should let you know that I'm pretty sure me linking to myspace is in the Book of Revelation as one of the signs of the end of the world. So you may want to get to the grocery store and stock up on milk and bread and toaster strudels. Maybe a tub or two of cookie dough. I don't know.

And although it's not related to the story, let me also state that part of the entire Hound Dogs experience is the...uhm....ambiance. And by ambiance I mean dirty, dingy tables and loud, usually terrible music coming from the attached bar and bathrooms that make you want to put on a biohazard suit before you enter (which, in turn, makes the reason for entering much more difficult to accomplish) and excessively tattooed/pierced waitresses and generally AWFUL service. You've been warned.

Anyway, it used to be a place that we frequented. One night I was there with M2M and her husband except I'm pretty sure they weren't married yet. I don't think they were engaged yet either. So just dating. And we're sitting there talking about who knows what. Which is what we always do. Talk and talk and talk some more. So Future-Husband is making some sort of point that he feels is important. And as he finishes this point he turns to me as if to say, "What do you have to contribute on this subject? I'm very interested in your opinion."

Now, the thing about my digestive system is, it's very funny. Great comic timing, wonderful improvisational skills. It even did a stint at Second City back in 2000. And because great quantities of Dr. Pepper had been consumed that night, my digestive system had collected large amounts of gas that needed to be expunged. Was it hoarding all of this gas for just such an opportunity? Who can say, really? All we know is that the opportunity was presented and it was taken with no hesitation.

So he turns to me expecting a response and I turn to him and oblige with great enthusiasm. A great big enthusiastic belch directly into his face. Immature? Maybe. Unbelievably funny? Without question. What exactly made it so funny? I'm not even sure. Part of it was the fact that his girlfriend found it to be ridiculously hilarious. So her laughing made me laugh harder and my laughing made her laugh harder and so on. Five minutes later we're holding our sides and crying because the laughter hasn't stopped. But what made it so damn funny was the fact that he did NOT find it funny. At all. Throughout the entire thing he just had a look on his face that said I AM EXTREMELY IRRITATED. THIS IS NOT FUNNY STOP WITH YOUR IDIOT LAUGHING. And of course, we couldn't because that look made it even more funny.

So while I am capable of throwing words like "disingenuous" into everyday conversation, I'm just as skilled at making a quality bodily function joke.

I believe the word is "versatile."

Finely Aged

In the bathroom this morning and I hear my phone ring. Wondering who would be calling me this early in the morning and go check it and see I've missed a call from Mom. She's left a message. Why is my Mom calling me this early? Is someone sick? In an accident? Worse?

Listen to the message. Mom, singing "Happy Birthday" into my voicemail.

Oh. My birthday. I guess it is. Thanks for the panic attack, Mom!

So, what do I want for my birthday? I. WANT. MORE. MONEH. I have a Paypal account. You can give me some of that internet moneh.

If you don't get the joke, go watch the Canada On Strike episode of South Park. Hilarity.

And Ah Never Even Gradgeeated!

So, T just graduated from OSU law school. (Whooptee-doo!) His parents were in town and a big group of people went out to dinner. I think there were 12 people there at one long table and I sat at one end while T and his parents sat at the other. So there was very little interaction throughout the night.

So at some point I engaged T in a conversation that naturally, since it was being carried on from one end of the table to the other, everyone heard. Long story short (like my brother-in-law, HEY-OHHHH!), I was telling him about the ludicrous reasoning that OSU's president gave for being against a playoff in college football. In giving my opinion, I used the word "disingenuous" to describe the esteemed president's statement. And then everyone at the table reacted with shock and awe that I used such a word, as if I am typically a blubbering, monosyllabic Neanderthal incapable of stringing more than two words together to communicate. I really didn't see what all the fuss was about as I thought that the word was particularly apropos (another one!) for making the point I was trying to make. In fact, I can't really think of another word to use in its place except for maybe "bullshit" which, considering my company at the time, wasn't a viable option.

The point is that this was really the only thing T's parents heard me say the entire night. I'm fairly certain that I didn't actually speak directly to them at all. Well, apparently, I made quite the impression. They told T how impressed they were with me and commented on what a well-spoken young man I am. And I'm still amused by the fact that they came to this conclusion after hearing me basically speak a single sentence.

Now, I'm certainly not going to discourage such an accurate, well-formed opinion. T's parents are clearly very good judges of character. But I can't help but wonder how impressed they'd be if they heard my choice of language during a particularly competitive video game. Or while I'm watching my hockey team lose. Or while I'm driving. Hmmmm?

Speed Kills

So as summer approaches, it's pretty much a certainty that we will see $4/gallon gas prices. Hell, maybe some of you are already seeing it. And of course, along with the rise in prices is the matching rise in complaining about those prices. Bitching about gas prices has taken its rightful place in Americana alongside baseball, moms and apple pie.

Although, that statement could probably be clarified. The reality is that bitching without actually doing something about the problem has become part of our birthright. And that's less of an American quality than it is a quality of humanity. Humans love to bitch about their myriad inconveniences but that's as much work as they are willing to do to foster any change in regards to those inconveniences.

Nowhere does this apply better than the issue of gas prices. The truth of the matter is that as high as prices are and as much complaining as we do about them, prices still haven't reached that mythical point where Americans will substantially change their driving habits.

Exhibit A is the number of people that still insist on driving behemoth SUVs when they have absolutely no practical need for them.

Exhibit B is the issue of speed. The sweet spot for fuel efficiency is between 55 and 60 mph. And fuel efficiency drops the higher you get above 60 mph. So here's the question: how many of you are willing to drive 55 mph when the speed limit (in Ohio) is 65 mph? Anyone? Yeah, me neither. I don't know that I'd ever be able to bring myself to drive 10 mph below the limit. It just isn't in my DNA. Plus, on some roads (I-670, the Autobahn of Central Ohio) driving 55 mph would be putting your life in danger. But over the last 4 or 5 days I've been doing something that I don't typically do: actually following the speed limit.

Historically, I am a 5-10 mph over-the-limit driver with the occasional 15 mph over thrown in for good measure. But my thinking has been that even if I'm not getting the ideal efficiency of driving 55, I can still get some savings by reducing my speed. Every little bit helps, right?

So what have I learned from this little experiment? That people who actually follow the speed limit are in a very small minority. I'm getting passed like crazy. Especially by people driving those idiotic SUVs. And as I see car after car fly by me, I can't help but wonder...what the hell is the big hurry? Even though I have a history of treating speed limits as friendly suggestions, I've never been stupid enough to say that the reason I speed is so I can get to my destination quicker. My reason is simple. I LIKE GOING FAST. There is no other reason. I like passing other people. Is it ego? Testosterone? Who knows? It just feels good. But saving time is not a valid reason.

You're very rarely going to be driving more than 40 miles in the Central Ohio area. Assuming you can drive the whole 40 miles at top speed (which you obviously can't), driving 75 mph will save you a whole 8 minutes over driving 60 mph. That's it! 8 minutes! Yes, obviously, over long distances the time savings is more significant. But the large portion of our lives are probably spent within a 20 mile radius and speeding does not provide a material time savings.

Now, will all of this information stop your neighbor from driving their GMC Envoy 70 mph to work tomorrow? Probably not. And will they then bitch to you about how much it cost them to fill it up? It's very likely. But those complaints then have about the same weight as those of people who complain about the government but don't vote.

Bottom line, until you're willing to make some changes in your life to mitigate the effects of rising fuel costs...don't come crying to me.

The Invisible Man

Layer Cake is a pretty good movie.

This post is not about that movie.

This post is about watching that movie with your best friends one night. Then, a mere five nights later, one of those friends turns to you and says, "Have you ever seen Layer Cake?"

I think that my blank stare was really the only answer I could have given.

How could I possibly have an ego with friends like these?

What's My Age Again?

I've never been someone who has put very much thought into aging. I've never seen it as something to get too worked up about. It's going to happen, it happens to everyone and there's no sense in worrying about it. And there's nothing that says I have to act differently as I age. I'm required to grow old but I'm certainly not required to grow up.

Last year I turned thirty. It wasn't a big deal. Went out with friends, had a nice dinner, etc. But it wasn't any more momentous than any other birthday. I turn thirty-one in a couple of weeks and I have to admit, it's weirding me out a little bit. Not that the specific age signifies anything important. But I have now reached the point where I am in my thirties (cue the dramatic squirrel music).

I know it seems silly, but it sounds different to me. In my thirties just sounds...I don't know, older. Like I should have a house, wife, 2.5 kids and a family dog (although as a Mormon, in my thirties probably means I should have 5-7 kids by now).

It seems like some people have this specific plan laid out for how their entire lives are going to go. You know, certain milestones have to occur by a certain age. Marriage, first kid, tenth kid, etc. I'm sorry but those people are WEIRD. I've never had anything more than the vaguest of guesses as to how my life was going to go. And it's a good thing because even those vague guesses have been completely off.

So as I head into my thirties, if I have any preconceived notions as to how they're going to go, I suppose I should just trash them because they'll probably be just as unpredictable as my twenties. And that's fine. That's what makes the whole thing interesting, you know?

I know this guy whose life has pretty much followed the exact Mormon life blueprint. Married with two kids, all before age 25. And sometimes I wonder if he had the opportunity to go back, would he do it the same way? Not that he's extremely unhappy or anything. I have no doubt that he loves his wife and kids. But I just get the impression from him that sometimes he looks around at his life and says, "How the hell did this happen?"

I guess the point is that it's a good thing I never paid any attention to following the blueprint. Because even though my life may not be where I imagined it would, its probably right where it needs to be.

mommy omg im retrded

Since the title of this blog is currently "Things I Hate", I figure I should make a post about something I hate, no?

Sidebar: The title of the blog is currently up for debate. I'll consider all suggestions. "The Angry Mormon" is one I've tossed around in my head. I think it fits. I don't know. Like I said, suggestions are welcome.

Anyway, back to the hating.

You may or may not be aware of this story. If not, skim it real quick. It's actually pretty cool. Amazing that the girl was able to hide under her blanket while a burglar sat on the bed right next to her. And I love that the mom just drove up and rammed their car.

But the one thing that really stood out to me in this story (and this is probably pretty insightful as to my personality) wasn't the impressive acts of this mother and daughter. No, no. It was the horrific text message that this girl sent to her mother to inform her that thieves were in their home while she was alone sick.

"Mommy omg im scard i thnk were being robd im hiding help me!"

Do you have these certain things that just make you inordinately angry? Like, the severity of your reaction is way, way, WAY above and beyond the severity of the actual offense? I do. In fact, I have a LOT of those things. That's...sort of the point of this blog.

I feel like the eighty year old man on his front porch yelling at the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn when I say this. But texting and instant messaging shorthand makes me INSANE. Punch-someone-in-the-neck insane. I can't stand it. There is absolutely no good reason why a person can't take the extra split second it takes to hit the damn period key. Improper punctuation and spelling are the bane of my existence in the electronic world. I'm not talking about the occasional typo. That happens. (Had to throw that in there in case I make a typo in this post). I'm talking about the shortening of words into absolute gibberish. "Ur" does not equal "your" or even "you're". It never has and it never will.

I know what you're going to say next. "But shortening words lets me text faster and that's important at certain times...like when I'm driving!"

My response is this: Stop texting while you're driving, you damn jackass! Is that going to be your excuse when you end up t-boning me at some intersection and turn me into a quadriplegic? I swear, if I see someone texting while driving I want to run them into a bridge abutment.

If I had gotten a text like that from my daughter that our house was being robbed, I'm pretty certain my only response would have been, "I'm sorry, was that English? You're what? We're being what? Is that all one sentence?"

I'm not kidding. If one of my kids sent me a text or instant message that said:

"omg dad! i need ur help i took sum heroin im supr sic i need sum1 2 take me 2 the hosptl!!!11"

I'm pretty sure I'd be way more pissed off about the formatting of the message than the actual content. I think my response would be something along the lines of, "Sorry, kid. I'd love to help but I'm afraid that I'm not fluent in moron."



As I prepare to post this, the thought occurs to me that I'm getting ready to tell a bunch of my friends about something that is immensely annoying to me, some of whom have my phone number and are capable of sending me text messages. Do I really want to do this? Oh, well.

Another Waste of Interweb Bandwidth

Why blog, you may ask? Why, indeed.

Am I arrogant enough to think that others will actually care about anything I have to say about any given topic? No.

Do I even think that anything I have to say about any given topic will be particularly meaningful or deep? Of course not.

One thought that's motivating this is that my best friends are scattering across the country and I'm thinking that the majority of our interaction is going to move online. I'm hoping that posting whatever random thoughts enter my head on a given day will spur some conversating among us. This isn't the first time something like this has happened to me. I've lived in the same area for coming up on 10 years. I've had several groups of friends that, after a couple of years, moved on to different things and places. Inevitably, we fail to keep in touch and I've lost track of them. I don't want that to happen.

So, will I even stick with this for longer than a minute? Probably not. Is it going to be worth your time reading this? Probably not.

But, as a certain friend recently said, I can be pretty damn funny.

C*** Block

I'll get a proper intro post up later, but I found this text conversation that just occurred sufficiently funny to post.

Friend that I'll call T: [name redacted] just added me on Facebook!!! This is the rekindling of our beautiful relationship! Things are going to get hot! Touchdown baby!

(note: I apologize for the overabundance of exclamation points. This is a direct quote)

Me: Just try to remember who was there before you. And I'm not talking about her husband.

T: Ha ha. You cured me! That was amazing!

Me: I have a gift.