I'm big on oral hygiene, it's the most important of all the hygienes.
As such, I take a lot of care in dealing with my teeth and the maintenance there of, so I'm very picky about what I use. I prefer for my mouthwash to have the highest alcohol content available because not only does the burn tell me its working, if prohibition ever comes around again I'm all set. I grew up in a very diverse area so I don't have a preference on color of mouth wash, and when it comes to flavor I think they should be rated much like Taco Bell sauces from "I can feel it working" to "Is it normal for my saliva to turn acidic?" to "My gums seem to be alarmingly radioactive."
With brushing, I prefer to self-scrub over the use of an electric toothbrush. And its not because of my overlying fear of technology becoming self-aware and taking over the Earth in an epic battle we can never win, I'm just not a fan of slowly going tooth by tooth with the slow spinning sphere brush. I just purchased a new toothbrush and with so many different types out there it can be hard for some people to narrow the search. For me, I went for the rigor mortis Fraggle look for my brush. A bunch of different colors and jagged edges scientifically proven to cleanse my mouth by losing enough blood through my gums that my body almost gives out. If I could use steel wool I probably would, but then there's the possibility of contracting lockjaw, and if I'm getting tetanus it's going to be from something manly like stepping on a nail or getting my leg amputated in the field of battle.
When it comes to brushing styles, I don't have a game plan going in. I'm not standing there counting strokes, or have a set pattern to change it up to a swirling counter-clockwise motion as I move to the cuspids. I don't know what I'm gonna do, sometimes I pull a sneak move on myself, moving towards the molars on the right only to slide to the left and dance around the bottom shelf for a while. During my time away at college, I took notice of other people's brushing styles and have realized that most normal people do not look like rabid badgers after they're done brushing. This is considerably different than myself, who was tranquilized by the park service after a rigorous brush session while camping last summer. So if you produce more foam than the makers of those large #1 fingers, you are not alone, my friend.
And f**k flossing, it's such a hassle. Gah! I have things to do with my day!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Staring at the Sun
Riding into the sunset doesn't seem to be all that great.
Granted, it's very dramatic and a great way to end a Western, but in reality you are stuck starring directly into the sun. What is so great about riding off into the sunset anyway? Is having a sense of accomplishment followed by an overbearing desire to travel due West? Yes, I know its a metaphor for kicking the bucket but I'm the type of guy that wears sunglasses more days than most people wear pants, I don't appreciate the whole "Walk into the Light" deal; I have sensitive eyes.
Besides, walking away towards the horizon has been done to death. Every other movie has a character gently disappear in a glimmer of light never to return to the land of the living except to do arts and crafts or take a most bogus journey. Where's the creativity? Where's the original idea of what it's like after you realize that packing a parachute is best left in the hands of professionals? Not many people have near-death experiences, and to rely on such a small number of accounts is not scientifically secure in determining the accuracy of such stories. It is only right to weigh out other viable options.
Perhaps you simply snap back into life, like a long blink. Reincarnation. One of those Asian religions was big on it. Everyone has found themselves watching a Discovery Channel documentary, turned to their roommate and mumbled something about how cool it would be to be a penguin. Maybe there's even an evolution to reincarnation. First, starting off as a simple life form, such as bacteria or an amoeba, and gradually working your way up to the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads. With each successful jump you take a bit of your past with you, so the greasy kid from high school was part slug, your track star friend came from gazelle linage, and your lazy, good-for-nothing brother used to be moss. For me, I think there are a few traits which stand out, leadership, status, symbolism. That's why I'm confident I came from a long line of bald eagles.
Maybe nothing happens. If that's true then you would want to catch people by surprise, so they always remember you. There are five stages of lose, drifting slowly away and having people come to accept your death before you're gone is no way to check out. You want them to be sidelined by the news. If people do not have to call out of work to grieve you have not died horrifically enough. It is completely out of your hands, but if you have to go, you want it to be such an event that whenever you come up in conversation someone feels compelled to bring up how you died.
On the other hand, perhaps those people were right and everything you've seen in the movies is accurate. But when are movies ever accurate? When have you had the right words to say to the girl at the right time? When have you rolled a car seven times and not break your sunglasses? And when has your ragtag group of friends ever beat the pretty, popular kids at anything? Never, because movies make things more glamorous. So instead of a bright light at the end of the tunnel, you're actually sitting in a smelly subway station squashed next to a guy having an animated conversation with hand gestures on his blue tooth and another guy with an actual blue tooth with the nickname Smiley, and that sound of God is really the broken, barely audible speaker of the subway operator. Did they say 6th or 66th Street... why's it so hot?
Death makes a lot of people uneasy with due cause because we are unsure what comes after it. All of these options are as viable as the next and eventually everyone will have a first hand experience with the subject, unless there's a zombie holocaust. It's a perfectly reasonable option not a lot of people give credit too. All I'm saying is most people don't come back from the dead and try and eat your brains.
Granted, it's very dramatic and a great way to end a Western, but in reality you are stuck starring directly into the sun. What is so great about riding off into the sunset anyway? Is having a sense of accomplishment followed by an overbearing desire to travel due West? Yes, I know its a metaphor for kicking the bucket but I'm the type of guy that wears sunglasses more days than most people wear pants, I don't appreciate the whole "Walk into the Light" deal; I have sensitive eyes.
Besides, walking away towards the horizon has been done to death. Every other movie has a character gently disappear in a glimmer of light never to return to the land of the living except to do arts and crafts or take a most bogus journey. Where's the creativity? Where's the original idea of what it's like after you realize that packing a parachute is best left in the hands of professionals? Not many people have near-death experiences, and to rely on such a small number of accounts is not scientifically secure in determining the accuracy of such stories. It is only right to weigh out other viable options.
Perhaps you simply snap back into life, like a long blink. Reincarnation. One of those Asian religions was big on it. Everyone has found themselves watching a Discovery Channel documentary, turned to their roommate and mumbled something about how cool it would be to be a penguin. Maybe there's even an evolution to reincarnation. First, starting off as a simple life form, such as bacteria or an amoeba, and gradually working your way up to the Crezzlantians, our future Reptilian Overloads. With each successful jump you take a bit of your past with you, so the greasy kid from high school was part slug, your track star friend came from gazelle linage, and your lazy, good-for-nothing brother used to be moss. For me, I think there are a few traits which stand out, leadership, status, symbolism. That's why I'm confident I came from a long line of bald eagles.
Maybe nothing happens. If that's true then you would want to catch people by surprise, so they always remember you. There are five stages of lose, drifting slowly away and having people come to accept your death before you're gone is no way to check out. You want them to be sidelined by the news. If people do not have to call out of work to grieve you have not died horrifically enough. It is completely out of your hands, but if you have to go, you want it to be such an event that whenever you come up in conversation someone feels compelled to bring up how you died.
Friend #1: Hey, remember in college when Dave and I won that Air-Band Competition?
Friend #2: Yea, that was awesome... I can't believe he drown in a vat of marshmallow at the Hershey plant while trying to save those orphans from the fire started when the careless bus drive threw his cigarette into the bushes near the exhaust vent igniting the entire factory ablaze. Dave, being the lone man brave enough to go in after them, saved 122 lives that day. At least he died in deliciousness.
On the other hand, perhaps those people were right and everything you've seen in the movies is accurate. But when are movies ever accurate? When have you had the right words to say to the girl at the right time? When have you rolled a car seven times and not break your sunglasses? And when has your ragtag group of friends ever beat the pretty, popular kids at anything? Never, because movies make things more glamorous. So instead of a bright light at the end of the tunnel, you're actually sitting in a smelly subway station squashed next to a guy having an animated conversation with hand gestures on his blue tooth and another guy with an actual blue tooth with the nickname Smiley, and that sound of God is really the broken, barely audible speaker of the subway operator. Did they say 6th or 66th Street... why's it so hot?
Death makes a lot of people uneasy with due cause because we are unsure what comes after it. All of these options are as viable as the next and eventually everyone will have a first hand experience with the subject, unless there's a zombie holocaust. It's a perfectly reasonable option not a lot of people give credit too. All I'm saying is most people don't come back from the dead and try and eat your brains.
But it had to happen once to make people all paranoid.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Sensing an Inquisition
Koalas must have very clear sinuses.
One of the people in the house is sick and everywhere I go, I smell eucalyptus. It's one of the many herbal remedies passed down from generation to generation like applying aloe to a cut or pulling out. In all the unique smells that pass through the olfactory factory. eucalyptus is one of those hated. Your sense of smell has the most influence on your memory and your ability to recall different things, and I associate that smell to being sick. For this reason, and warrants out for my arrest for two separate incidents involving the tranquilizing of a full grown kangaroo in order to ship home for use as a Valentine's Day gift or boxing buddy, is why I'm fairly certain I would not enjoy Australia.
I've always had a pretty good sense of smell. If I walked outside I could tag exactly what stench was in the air be it chocolate or a mixture of baloney and gasoline, both of which were an option on certain days during college. Sometimes these smells would bring me back to a time of family vacations up at the lake with the smell of gasoline off a boat engine equalled a good day on the water. While other times I would be reminded when I had to find a friend with a car that could keep a secret after getting a whiff of a certain perfume.
If you were told to chose which sense to go without, most people would chose either taste or smell. Touch is important for many reasons, most of which for guys revolves around any type of fondling of boobs, because we see touch more as a hindrance. If we were playing football with the guys and suddenly my tibia is sticking out, it is my wish to be able to finish the game before going for some gauze. With a sense of touch, instead of cowboying up, I'm probably only going to last another play or two.
Hearing is important, but it would be sweet if I could make it so I only hear the tone of which someone was speaking without having to listen to all those words. That way I could still react properly to whatever she was saying and I could play Mad Libs in my head while you tell me about the creepy guy you saw out in the bushes, no really, call the police, get a bat, I'm not kidding, there's a guy outside with a knife, what's that noise, oh my god I think he's found a way in, no please don't, ow I've been stabbed, screaming, why are you doing this, more screaming, help me. Sometimes I like time to get inside my own head. It's not that I don't want to listen to other people; I just like the sound of my own voice better.
Sight is tricky. On one side of the coin without it I wouldn't be able to see and a lot of the things I enjoy doing involve my ability to perceive the world around me using light refracted through my corneas and processed by the occipital lobe of my brain. But on the other hand, I could get a helper animal. Most blind people go with dogs because they're big enough to stop you from running into traffic unlike a spider monkey which would, sadly because of genetics involving hair growth, be unable to guide me by sitting on my head and grasping chunks of hair driving me like Voltron. That's why I'd want to help a helper orangutan. It would be like having a hairy butler. He would help me around the house, guild me safely across streets, and if it were a cold, dark night... and I felt a bit blue... I could cuddle with it.
Being able to sense ovulation in large zoo animals isn't very common so I won't waste time on it, but I wouldn't give it up for anything.
Taste is the most useless of all the senses. Thinking about all the new textures in the world for your tongue to experience is enough for me to elect for it to be removed. Ever wonder what sand paper would feel like on your tongue still warm from finishing off a newly stripped table? Perhaps your curious if bathing yourself like a cat is better for your skin? Or maybe you want to make out with your dog, just once, just to see what its like. All of these things, and more, are open to you without a sense of taste.
All of the senses are important, but not essential. To select one to go without for even a short period of time would change your view on life. So I pose this to you now, which would you chose?
One of the people in the house is sick and everywhere I go, I smell eucalyptus. It's one of the many herbal remedies passed down from generation to generation like applying aloe to a cut or pulling out. In all the unique smells that pass through the olfactory factory. eucalyptus is one of those hated. Your sense of smell has the most influence on your memory and your ability to recall different things, and I associate that smell to being sick. For this reason, and warrants out for my arrest for two separate incidents involving the tranquilizing of a full grown kangaroo in order to ship home for use as a Valentine's Day gift or boxing buddy, is why I'm fairly certain I would not enjoy Australia.
I've always had a pretty good sense of smell. If I walked outside I could tag exactly what stench was in the air be it chocolate or a mixture of baloney and gasoline, both of which were an option on certain days during college. Sometimes these smells would bring me back to a time of family vacations up at the lake with the smell of gasoline off a boat engine equalled a good day on the water. While other times I would be reminded when I had to find a friend with a car that could keep a secret after getting a whiff of a certain perfume.
If you were told to chose which sense to go without, most people would chose either taste or smell. Touch is important for many reasons, most of which for guys revolves around any type of fondling of boobs, because we see touch more as a hindrance. If we were playing football with the guys and suddenly my tibia is sticking out, it is my wish to be able to finish the game before going for some gauze. With a sense of touch, instead of cowboying up, I'm probably only going to last another play or two.
Hearing is important, but it would be sweet if I could make it so I only hear the tone of which someone was speaking without having to listen to all those words. That way I could still react properly to whatever she was saying and I could play Mad Libs in my head while you tell me about the creepy guy you saw out in the bushes, no really, call the police, get a bat, I'm not kidding, there's a guy outside with a knife, what's that noise, oh my god I think he's found a way in, no please don't, ow I've been stabbed, screaming, why are you doing this, more screaming, help me. Sometimes I like time to get inside my own head. It's not that I don't want to listen to other people; I just like the sound of my own voice better.
Sight is tricky. On one side of the coin without it I wouldn't be able to see and a lot of the things I enjoy doing involve my ability to perceive the world around me using light refracted through my corneas and processed by the occipital lobe of my brain. But on the other hand, I could get a helper animal. Most blind people go with dogs because they're big enough to stop you from running into traffic unlike a spider monkey which would, sadly because of genetics involving hair growth, be unable to guide me by sitting on my head and grasping chunks of hair driving me like Voltron. That's why I'd want to help a helper orangutan. It would be like having a hairy butler. He would help me around the house, guild me safely across streets, and if it were a cold, dark night... and I felt a bit blue... I could cuddle with it.
Being able to sense ovulation in large zoo animals isn't very common so I won't waste time on it, but I wouldn't give it up for anything.
Taste is the most useless of all the senses. Thinking about all the new textures in the world for your tongue to experience is enough for me to elect for it to be removed. Ever wonder what sand paper would feel like on your tongue still warm from finishing off a newly stripped table? Perhaps your curious if bathing yourself like a cat is better for your skin? Or maybe you want to make out with your dog, just once, just to see what its like. All of these things, and more, are open to you without a sense of taste.
All of the senses are important, but not essential. To select one to go without for even a short period of time would change your view on life. So I pose this to you now, which would you chose?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Unintentionally Cold
It colds outside.
Some may call this a new low. A personal website that starts out with casual conversation about the weather, nonchalantly etching its way into your personal defenses, slowly creeping through discussions of family stories, occasionally making a joke about how it too was a dork in high school that played in the marching band, and ultimately finding yourself drawn to it like a squirrel to an elaborate whistling cheese trap rigged with firecrackers that won't kill the creature just stun it enough for you to cryogenicly freeze it for research in the future after the sun expands and engulfs Mercury, raising the natural temperature of the planet so much it destroys all life except those of us who now live in underground caverns dubbed "The Catacombs." Its a simpler life, but at least it wouldn't be cold anymore.
Is it so wrong to want to get to know someone better? Yes, yes it is. Most people get tired of talking about the weather, and joking about kidnapping exotic animals and mailing them to each other as pets and eventually want to have a real conversation. My advice is to avoid this at all costs, because once someone starts to tell you information about themselves, they want you to remember it.
Look, I'm not the most popular guy, but I have a good number of friends. How do you expect me to remember menial things such as favorite colors? The way Crayola expanded in the 1980's, its hard enough for a person to decipher such things for themselves. And that's just the simple stuff! Everyone has to prove they're a unique little snowflake. Unless you have a name tag on reminding me you're an orphan, please do not get upset if I ask you how your folks are doing, I'm just trying to be nice. And if you were not driven off the road in the middle of the night by a screaming maniac in a green Volkswagen Bug back in July of '98, then I have nothing to do with your life-threatening fear of clowns and I am sorry for trying to throw you a proper birthday party.
I don't have a good memory for names, and an even worse one for faces. I know you're my uncle, but seriously, a lot of old guys come up to me on the street and I ignore them, why would that change at my grandmother's house on Thanksgiving; I am trying to enjoy my holiday. There is nothing I hate more than someone getting upset with me because I called them the wrong name. Its not like I called it out in the heat of passion. If it makes you feel better, I promise, the next time I'm giving the toast at your wedding, I'll get it right. Geez, the things people will stop returning your phone calls for these days.
I understand the need for people to feel a close connection with their friends or romantic partners and I do try, its just I'm not one of these savants when it comes to remembering things. So the next time you want to blame me for skipping my nephew's baptism to have a 'Godfather and Goldschlauger' marathon with my buddies, instead perhaps you should give me credit for getting some part of it right.
Some may call this a new low. A personal website that starts out with casual conversation about the weather, nonchalantly etching its way into your personal defenses, slowly creeping through discussions of family stories, occasionally making a joke about how it too was a dork in high school that played in the marching band, and ultimately finding yourself drawn to it like a squirrel to an elaborate whistling cheese trap rigged with firecrackers that won't kill the creature just stun it enough for you to cryogenicly freeze it for research in the future after the sun expands and engulfs Mercury, raising the natural temperature of the planet so much it destroys all life except those of us who now live in underground caverns dubbed "The Catacombs." Its a simpler life, but at least it wouldn't be cold anymore.
Is it so wrong to want to get to know someone better? Yes, yes it is. Most people get tired of talking about the weather, and joking about kidnapping exotic animals and mailing them to each other as pets and eventually want to have a real conversation. My advice is to avoid this at all costs, because once someone starts to tell you information about themselves, they want you to remember it.
Look, I'm not the most popular guy, but I have a good number of friends. How do you expect me to remember menial things such as favorite colors? The way Crayola expanded in the 1980's, its hard enough for a person to decipher such things for themselves. And that's just the simple stuff! Everyone has to prove they're a unique little snowflake. Unless you have a name tag on reminding me you're an orphan, please do not get upset if I ask you how your folks are doing, I'm just trying to be nice. And if you were not driven off the road in the middle of the night by a screaming maniac in a green Volkswagen Bug back in July of '98, then I have nothing to do with your life-threatening fear of clowns and I am sorry for trying to throw you a proper birthday party.
I don't have a good memory for names, and an even worse one for faces. I know you're my uncle, but seriously, a lot of old guys come up to me on the street and I ignore them, why would that change at my grandmother's house on Thanksgiving; I am trying to enjoy my holiday. There is nothing I hate more than someone getting upset with me because I called them the wrong name. Its not like I called it out in the heat of passion. If it makes you feel better, I promise, the next time I'm giving the toast at your wedding, I'll get it right. Geez, the things people will stop returning your phone calls for these days.
I understand the need for people to feel a close connection with their friends or romantic partners and I do try, its just I'm not one of these savants when it comes to remembering things. So the next time you want to blame me for skipping my nephew's baptism to have a 'Godfather and Goldschlauger' marathon with my buddies, instead perhaps you should give me credit for getting some part of it right.
Monday Jan 21st
I went away this weekend and did not have access to a computer I could sit in front of for an hour to write anything new. Since coming back to the fold I have been trying to update every weekday. It's a lot of material to pull out of my ass, so I'll probably never publish anything on Friday and only on Saturday or Sunday if I'm bored or sick or barricaded inside my house by a madmen bent on revenge while my only communication with the outside world is this website.
While I was away I started thinking about you lot. Most of the people that read this site, I know personally; they have my screen name, we're facebook friends, and I've even seen a few of you naked, but believe it or not there are a small number of people that have found their way here from other places be it College Humor or looking up the phrase "chemically neuter" on Google. And its these people I thought about. What do they think when they click on this site without updates for four days? They have no clue I was off gallivanting through Pennsylvania with college friends sleeping on a buddy's surprisingly comfortable couch, they may think I've been off gallivanting through the Far East on a binge of hookers and whiskey in the exotic yet dangerous world of precious metals.
Because this racked my brain for the duration of my little trip, I decided that next time I will be out of commission for a number of days I will let you all know. I'm currently using a program to hack into your computers and steal all your personal information so I may call you directly to inform you of any impending leave of absence from this site...
... hmmm, doesn't seem to be working. Oh well, I'll have to resort to Plan B which is whenever you see anything in italics (hence this being in italics), it's not an official AoR article. I'm sure you all would have figured that out for yourself but I felt you deserved an explanation, its not like ending a 6 year relationship; you cant do something like this in a few simple lines.
I'm thinking of updating the site so I can have different sections, but I'm not good with the internet, any help would be greatly appreciated. Expect a new article up tonight after I get back from the gym.
~Dave
While I was away I started thinking about you lot. Most of the people that read this site, I know personally; they have my screen name, we're facebook friends, and I've even seen a few of you naked, but believe it or not there are a small number of people that have found their way here from other places be it College Humor or looking up the phrase "chemically neuter" on Google. And its these people I thought about. What do they think when they click on this site without updates for four days? They have no clue I was off gallivanting through Pennsylvania with college friends sleeping on a buddy's surprisingly comfortable couch, they may think I've been off gallivanting through the Far East on a binge of hookers and whiskey in the exotic yet dangerous world of precious metals.
Because this racked my brain for the duration of my little trip, I decided that next time I will be out of commission for a number of days I will let you all know. I'm currently using a program to hack into your computers and steal all your personal information so I may call you directly to inform you of any impending leave of absence from this site...
... hmmm, doesn't seem to be working. Oh well, I'll have to resort to Plan B which is whenever you see anything in italics (hence this being in italics), it's not an official AoR article. I'm sure you all would have figured that out for yourself but I felt you deserved an explanation, its not like ending a 6 year relationship; you cant do something like this in a few simple lines.
I'm thinking of updating the site so I can have different sections, but I'm not good with the internet, any help would be greatly appreciated. Expect a new article up tonight after I get back from the gym.
~Dave
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Paternal Instinct
I don't like kids.
There's something about them, they're like large, smelly cats that don't land on their feet when you drop them. But even though I don't like them, I'm really good when dealing with them once the kid and I stop both crying around each other; its an odd exchange. Everyone says your thoughts on kids change when you have your own, but I'm in no rush to have any more so for now my stance on them remains the same.
Having kids is something guys don't think about as much as girls do. Guys don't sit around picking out names, because if we did every kid would be named after a video game or Samuel L. Jackson. The paternal instinct is a bit tweaked, instead of being programmed to nurture we're programmed to force our kids to do everything we know that will help them in the long run. Football to be tough, piano to impress girls, boy scouts for that ounce of molestation needed because not everyone has a creepy relative they can rely on to cover that base, and auto mechanics.
Its pretty obvious that guys only want to have boys. Its that Spartan attitude we have shoved behind 20 some years of having our mom take care of us when we're sick. To guys, having a little girl is only useful for one thing; getting the chance to beat up teenagers when she starts dating. I'm a fairly attractive guy, so the possibility of my spawn also being attractive is pretty good. Having a son dating the Homecoming Queen is a badge of honor a father can wear on his chest, having a daughter elected Prom Queen is an attempted homicide charge waiting to happen.
When it comes to numbers, guys typically want more than one. Some say its so we get a second chance after we screw up the first one but I think its so you always have someone to pawn the other off on if you're doing something. If I'm trying to fix the dishwasher, watch the game, or slyly burying the dog and then driving to the pound to find one that looks just like it, I don't need the kids buzzing around me. Also, having only one child means all your hopes and dreams are dependant on your one precious spawn, and if they screw up you can't disown them and try again like you could with a littler of kids.
Guys generally don't think about having kids unless something breaks in their life plan to force this into their mind. Most of us would rather pull out of those situations, but sometimes we're too caught up in the moment and then its forced upon us. It's not like there's some magic pill that makes this all go away. In fact, most guys would describe thinking about having a kid as "the longest few weeks of my life" and the only solution is when she tells us we're in the clear. Period.
There's something about them, they're like large, smelly cats that don't land on their feet when you drop them. But even though I don't like them, I'm really good when dealing with them once the kid and I stop both crying around each other; its an odd exchange. Everyone says your thoughts on kids change when you have your own, but I'm in no rush to have any more so for now my stance on them remains the same.
Having kids is something guys don't think about as much as girls do. Guys don't sit around picking out names, because if we did every kid would be named after a video game or Samuel L. Jackson. The paternal instinct is a bit tweaked, instead of being programmed to nurture we're programmed to force our kids to do everything we know that will help them in the long run. Football to be tough, piano to impress girls, boy scouts for that ounce of molestation needed because not everyone has a creepy relative they can rely on to cover that base, and auto mechanics.
Its pretty obvious that guys only want to have boys. Its that Spartan attitude we have shoved behind 20 some years of having our mom take care of us when we're sick. To guys, having a little girl is only useful for one thing; getting the chance to beat up teenagers when she starts dating. I'm a fairly attractive guy, so the possibility of my spawn also being attractive is pretty good. Having a son dating the Homecoming Queen is a badge of honor a father can wear on his chest, having a daughter elected Prom Queen is an attempted homicide charge waiting to happen.
When it comes to numbers, guys typically want more than one. Some say its so we get a second chance after we screw up the first one but I think its so you always have someone to pawn the other off on if you're doing something. If I'm trying to fix the dishwasher, watch the game, or slyly burying the dog and then driving to the pound to find one that looks just like it, I don't need the kids buzzing around me. Also, having only one child means all your hopes and dreams are dependant on your one precious spawn, and if they screw up you can't disown them and try again like you could with a littler of kids.
Guys generally don't think about having kids unless something breaks in their life plan to force this into their mind. Most of us would rather pull out of those situations, but sometimes we're too caught up in the moment and then its forced upon us. It's not like there's some magic pill that makes this all go away. In fact, most guys would describe thinking about having a kid as "the longest few weeks of my life" and the only solution is when she tells us we're in the clear. Period.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Acts of Randomness: Old School
A little history for all of you.
Back when I first started posting things on the internet, I didn't have a name for my site. It was just "Dave's Journal," and at the end of the articles I would put all the random thoughts that came to me that I didn't feel like developing. Either I was too lazy to put the effort into drawing out the joke for three paragraphs or the idea was simply better as a one-liner. These thoughts came to be called "Acts of Randomness," so now I'm going to bring it back to get rid of some of the ideas that have been populating my head lately.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- Is there anyone else out there that can't spell encyclopedia without singing the damn song?
Back when I first started posting things on the internet, I didn't have a name for my site. It was just "Dave's Journal," and at the end of the articles I would put all the random thoughts that came to me that I didn't feel like developing. Either I was too lazy to put the effort into drawing out the joke for three paragraphs or the idea was simply better as a one-liner. These thoughts came to be called "Acts of Randomness," so now I'm going to bring it back to get rid of some of the ideas that have been populating my head lately.
Acts of Randomness: Old School
- It must have been really hard to drunk dial someone back in Colonial Times. Its hard enough trying to find the person's name in your contact list when you've had eight Jagerbombs too many and everything reads like Swahili, imagine trying to catch the pigeon AND tie that tiny note to its foot!
- On the show Man vs Wild, the host, Bear Grylls, eats anything he encounters in the name of survival be it plant, animal, or mineral. If Bear came across a bunch of bananas in the rain forest, he'd eat the monkey.
- Why does my spell check insist that I capitalize the word "internet?" I know what you're all thinking. Yes, I do use spell check.
- Every battery in my room decided to die on me today. I was sitting at my computer with my mouse not reacting, unable to turn on my television, and my mp3 player slowly sucking the life out of itself. It is a sad day for lithium... which is ironic.
- I'd be a good phone sex operator, but only between 8:00 and 8:15am because of all that overnight phlegm that makes me sound way sexier than I sound any other time during the day. Also with my morning daze, I may not be as socially crippling as normal while talking to women over the phone.
- I've never had I Can't Believe Its Not Butter, but I have an open mind about things so I'm fairly certain I would give it the benefit of the doubt.
- I want to buy a racehorse just for the chance to name something. Sure, I could wait until I have kids but people look at you funny when you have a son called "Baby's Been Bad" or "Jumping Jungle Fever." Although, I'm pretty sure my child's name will have some alliteration in it.
- Gmail has a feature where you can see who else is online checking their email at that time, and whenever I see someone else online I feel compelled to send them a message. The same thing is true when I'm in a bank and I see them putting a large sum of money in the safe. I feel compelled to slip the teller a message saying "Fill the bag and nobody gets hurt."- Is there anyone else out there that can't spell encyclopedia without singing the damn song?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Tests of Chivalry
For me, being chivalrous, stops at things I like to do.
I still believe in holding doors, paying for dinner, and thinking of baseball, but eventually everything a guy does for a girl on a date is a test. Like Pavlov and his dogs, we are holding scientific experiments to see exactly what happens when we do A. Does she B start to drool, C cry uncontrollably, or D some kind of sexy combination of both? The following are a selection of those tests that I personally apply in dating situations.
Opening Her Car Door: This may be a lost art kept going by those of us who drive the same shit car we had in high school, as this test does not work if you unlock the doors electronically from across the parking lot. Unlocking and opening the car door for your ladyfriend is a simple gesture she will greatly appreciate. The test comes in when she is securely in your vehicle and you are maneuvering to the driver's side - does she unlock your door? If the answer is yes, marry her. Sadly, no girls will think of unlocking your door. Even if you have electronic locks and all she has to do push the GOD DAMN BUTTON BY YOUR RIGHT HAND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, ITS FRIGGIN RAINING; she will not. If brought to her attention most will claim she couldn't figure out how to unlock the doors. If that were true, you're getting lucky that night, because she's dumb as a brick.
Picking a Movie: This test is very simple in its delivery. Don't care. At least, act like you don't care. Sure, the unrated edition of Saw IV just came out on DVD, and you've been dying to see what kind of 'disemboweling a bear with a pair of nail clippers looking for the digital camera hidden inside with the picture of the combination to the lock on the safe filled with eyeballs stuck in jello where the antidote is kept' scene they could add to that movie to make it more gory, but give her a chance to pick. If she picks out a movie you have even the remote possibility of liking, you marry her! But she won't. She will ultimately pick some Keira Knightely movie set in the 18th Century where she doesn't have the common decency to get naked. For having to sit through the two-hour bore-fest, someone best be getting naked, that's for sure.
Telling Her of a Loved One's Passing: This works great if you tell her its your Great Aunt from upstate NY whose funeral is set for next Friday and all hopes are she kicks the bucket by then because it's hard to get your deposit back from the funeral home. But it works even better if you tell her its her Great Aunt that has died. She will feel an instant connection because one of her first thoughts will be how you knew before she did. Be there for her. Losing a relative can be a tough time for anyone, even if its not true, but especially tough if you had anything to do with it for purposes of this test. Trying to decide whether to spend months getting to know a girl is a big commitment and if you're not willing to set a neighborhood of houses on fire because you're not quite sure if Aunt Mildred lived at 143 Ostroski Rd or 193, then you don't belong in the dating pool in the first place.
These tests will not 100% determine if she's The One, but you'll be better off with the knowledge you gain from their use.
I still believe in holding doors, paying for dinner, and thinking of baseball, but eventually everything a guy does for a girl on a date is a test. Like Pavlov and his dogs, we are holding scientific experiments to see exactly what happens when we do A. Does she B start to drool, C cry uncontrollably, or D some kind of sexy combination of both? The following are a selection of those tests that I personally apply in dating situations.
Opening Her Car Door: This may be a lost art kept going by those of us who drive the same shit car we had in high school, as this test does not work if you unlock the doors electronically from across the parking lot. Unlocking and opening the car door for your ladyfriend is a simple gesture she will greatly appreciate. The test comes in when she is securely in your vehicle and you are maneuvering to the driver's side - does she unlock your door? If the answer is yes, marry her. Sadly, no girls will think of unlocking your door. Even if you have electronic locks and all she has to do push the GOD DAMN BUTTON BY YOUR RIGHT HAND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE, ITS FRIGGIN RAINING; she will not. If brought to her attention most will claim she couldn't figure out how to unlock the doors. If that were true, you're getting lucky that night, because she's dumb as a brick.
Picking a Movie: This test is very simple in its delivery. Don't care. At least, act like you don't care. Sure, the unrated edition of Saw IV just came out on DVD, and you've been dying to see what kind of 'disemboweling a bear with a pair of nail clippers looking for the digital camera hidden inside with the picture of the combination to the lock on the safe filled with eyeballs stuck in jello where the antidote is kept' scene they could add to that movie to make it more gory, but give her a chance to pick. If she picks out a movie you have even the remote possibility of liking, you marry her! But she won't. She will ultimately pick some Keira Knightely movie set in the 18th Century where she doesn't have the common decency to get naked. For having to sit through the two-hour bore-fest, someone best be getting naked, that's for sure.
Telling Her of a Loved One's Passing: This works great if you tell her its your Great Aunt from upstate NY whose funeral is set for next Friday and all hopes are she kicks the bucket by then because it's hard to get your deposit back from the funeral home. But it works even better if you tell her its her Great Aunt that has died. She will feel an instant connection because one of her first thoughts will be how you knew before she did. Be there for her. Losing a relative can be a tough time for anyone, even if its not true, but especially tough if you had anything to do with it for purposes of this test. Trying to decide whether to spend months getting to know a girl is a big commitment and if you're not willing to set a neighborhood of houses on fire because you're not quite sure if Aunt Mildred lived at 143 Ostroski Rd or 193, then you don't belong in the dating pool in the first place.
These tests will not 100% determine if she's The One, but you'll be better off with the knowledge you gain from their use.
Friday, January 11, 2008
An Important Phone Call
How important does a phone call have to be for you to make it between walking out of the shower and putting on some shorts in a public locker room?
I find it hard to believe that this man chose to make a casual phone call in that particular situation. Let me be clear, he did not RECEIVE a phone call, he DIALED out in order to communicate a thought, feeling, or idea to another by means of vocal annunciation. Now, I fully understand the general uses of a locker room may include nudity but not everyone is striking enough to move someone to capture their likeness as a sculpture and should keep that time frame down to a minimum. This man's absolute disregard for locker room decency etiquette makes me believe there was something afoot, and that phone call could not wait another moment. Here are a few ideas of what may have lead to that phone call:
Scenario #1:
I find it hard to believe that this man chose to make a casual phone call in that particular situation. Let me be clear, he did not RECEIVE a phone call, he DIALED out in order to communicate a thought, feeling, or idea to another by means of vocal annunciation. Now, I fully understand the general uses of a locker room may include nudity but not everyone is striking enough to move someone to capture their likeness as a sculpture and should keep that time frame down to a minimum. This man's absolute disregard for locker room decency etiquette makes me believe there was something afoot, and that phone call could not wait another moment. Here are a few ideas of what may have lead to that phone call:
Scenario #1:
Our aforementioned naked man is actually an aging superhero checking in with city hall. After so many years of crime fighting, our hero takes it easy when he can so if he doesn't have to pull on his tights on everyday, life is simpler. Perhaps that uniform just doesn't fit like it used to and slipping it on under his normal clothes is a hassle he doesn't want to deal with if he doesn't have to. So instead, he calls the mayor, naked, to see if everything is under control. Should we fault a man whose done so much good for the city?
Scenario #2:
Perhaps our friend is hiding a secret from a loved one. Maybe when he goes to the gym and enters that locker room he can finally share that secret with the world and takes hold of the opportunity presented before him. In a relationship, a man has to give up a lot of things he loves and this man loves to be naked. He's a nudist, but he can't practice this at home, so the one joy he has left in his life is calling home, naked, and having a conversation with whoever picks up. I may not agree with it, but who am I to take that joy away from another man?
Scenario #3:
This man is a time traveler from a distant future where greeting someone while clothed is a greater disrespect than not curbing your giant iguana when all the dogs become extinct. In the future, global warming will have made the Earth a vast desert and the atmospheric bubble communities mankind are forced to live in will be astronomically warmer than the current temperatures we live at today. Common decency will evolve with society and eventually covering oneself up in public will be considered taboo. He is attempting to blend into a world he doesn't fully understand, but he's doing his best. If I were in his shoes, would I fare any better?
I may have jumped to my conclusion too fast. There is a reason why this man decided to pick up his phone and dial at that particular moment, I was just too careless to figure out why. The next time a naked man is doing something I'm not going to ask him to put on some shorts, instead, I will ask him to enlighten me.
... but, ya know, if you want to put some shorts on first. That's okay, too.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Signing Your Love Away
My signature is pretty awesome.
The two D's in my first name compliment each other well and give a definite beginning and ending to its structure. And my last name is a masterpiece. Not many people have two capitol letters to play with. I get to hit you with the big M and then the calm comes over the crowd until the P comes up out of nowhere and smacks your baby sister across the face! My name is so much fun to sign that when meeting new women at bars I point out the joy they would have signing things when we get married. Hell, I wasn't popular in high school but girls still used to write Mrs. David MacPherson on their notebooks because of how fun it was.
I don't know sign language, but I'm going to take a guess my name is twice as fun then.
I'm not saying I would have to convince a girl to marry me, but having something to bring to the table besides "whole and unconditional love" is a strong move. The world's getting over-populated, so its only a matter of time until they put spawning regulations in place and if you want to be sure to get in on that before being chemically neutered by the government you best start thinking of things that makes your special love a little more special.
For me, my last name brings along with it a long history of Scottish lore, a color scheme for any occasion, and a castle I will reclaim in the name of my ancestors though legal or pillaging channels. Your last name probably isn't anything unique, so you are going to have to fall back on something else. Maybe your family owns livestock you can give to your girlfriend's family in exchange for her hand in marriage. It may seemed old fashion but unlike many other transactions, inflation has not adversely effected exchange rates. The typical marriage aged female is equal to 10 chickens, 3 1/2 sheep, or one cow, since both are used for milking and breeding purposes.
Looking deep into yourself is the only way to grasp a hold onto that magnificent item to separate you from the pack. Whether it be promises of a better life, a pack of elfin slaves, or ingesting unsafe levels of hallucinogens to explore the ever-expanding world of pure imagination, hopefully you'll be able to find your own golden ticket and she'll let you in the backdoor to explore the chocolate factory.
The two D's in my first name compliment each other well and give a definite beginning and ending to its structure. And my last name is a masterpiece. Not many people have two capitol letters to play with. I get to hit you with the big M and then the calm comes over the crowd until the P comes up out of nowhere and smacks your baby sister across the face! My name is so much fun to sign that when meeting new women at bars I point out the joy they would have signing things when we get married. Hell, I wasn't popular in high school but girls still used to write Mrs. David MacPherson on their notebooks because of how fun it was.
I don't know sign language, but I'm going to take a guess my name is twice as fun then.
I'm not saying I would have to convince a girl to marry me, but having something to bring to the table besides "whole and unconditional love" is a strong move. The world's getting over-populated, so its only a matter of time until they put spawning regulations in place and if you want to be sure to get in on that before being chemically neutered by the government you best start thinking of things that makes your special love a little more special.
For me, my last name brings along with it a long history of Scottish lore, a color scheme for any occasion, and a castle I will reclaim in the name of my ancestors though legal or pillaging channels. Your last name probably isn't anything unique, so you are going to have to fall back on something else. Maybe your family owns livestock you can give to your girlfriend's family in exchange for her hand in marriage. It may seemed old fashion but unlike many other transactions, inflation has not adversely effected exchange rates. The typical marriage aged female is equal to 10 chickens, 3 1/2 sheep, or one cow, since both are used for milking and breeding purposes.
Looking deep into yourself is the only way to grasp a hold onto that magnificent item to separate you from the pack. Whether it be promises of a better life, a pack of elfin slaves, or ingesting unsafe levels of hallucinogens to explore the ever-expanding world of pure imagination, hopefully you'll be able to find your own golden ticket and she'll let you in the backdoor to explore the chocolate factory.
Labels:
chemically neuter,
hallucinogens,
marriage,
Scottish lore
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Taking a Personal Holiday
Its Elvis's birthday!
This begs the question; how famous do you have to be for people to celebrate your birthday after you die? And not out of guilt because you were pushing the hot dog cart at Six Flags that you lost control of and sent careening down the hill towards the guys in the Bugs Bunny suit, which happened to be your friend Paul. But to have such a following that people consider your birthday a personal holiday. Having that kind of power post-humorously, I could not even begin to drool over what I could wield while alive or I may drown and it'd be all for naught.
I would make a great famous person. Sure, I don't exactly like meeting new people and having to be nice to others is something I have religious beliefs against, but I am not opposed to the public loving me. In fact, I am even okay with a few people not loving me, because love is not a strong enough word to describe what they would feel towards me; so we'll put them in the 'worship as their one true god' category. Eventually, these odd collection of folk will be the main source of Me news. They will be blogging about my day to day activities not excluding; lunch time deli decisions, trips to the zoo, latest purchases at Target, my ongoing feud with actor Elijah Wood, teasing the monkeys with false promises of freedom, blogging about my blogging about my hatred for the word blog, and being a semi-professional Scrabbler.
But no matter how famous I get, this will always be the OFFICIAL source of Me News. You cannot trust what you may hear, no matter how credible it may seem. These rumors can be make it very hard to determine truth from fiction so I would like to dispel some rumors now so they do not interfere with my fame.
1) The alleged affair between myself and Jeanette Miller (former girlfriend of Simon Seville) did not have anything to do with the demise of the band.
2) I was not the individual who started the disturbance in the Las Vegas strip club "Zee Zee's," Elijah Wood threw the first punch.
3)I have successfully completed my court-ordered stint at rehab and have not fallen back into any bad gambling habits, you can put money on that.
4) Any photos leaked from my cell phone would only have included many photos of my cat in various stages of sleep and close friends complaining they did not want their picture take at that time even though they're dressed to go out, I mean come on, you look fine, now smile!
I think I am well prepared for my awesomeness to come to fruition.
This begs the question; how famous do you have to be for people to celebrate your birthday after you die? And not out of guilt because you were pushing the hot dog cart at Six Flags that you lost control of and sent careening down the hill towards the guys in the Bugs Bunny suit, which happened to be your friend Paul. But to have such a following that people consider your birthday a personal holiday. Having that kind of power post-humorously, I could not even begin to drool over what I could wield while alive or I may drown and it'd be all for naught.
I would make a great famous person. Sure, I don't exactly like meeting new people and having to be nice to others is something I have religious beliefs against, but I am not opposed to the public loving me. In fact, I am even okay with a few people not loving me, because love is not a strong enough word to describe what they would feel towards me; so we'll put them in the 'worship as their one true god' category. Eventually, these odd collection of folk will be the main source of Me news. They will be blogging about my day to day activities not excluding; lunch time deli decisions, trips to the zoo, latest purchases at Target, my ongoing feud with actor Elijah Wood, teasing the monkeys with false promises of freedom, blogging about my blogging about my hatred for the word blog, and being a semi-professional Scrabbler.
But no matter how famous I get, this will always be the OFFICIAL source of Me News. You cannot trust what you may hear, no matter how credible it may seem. These rumors can be make it very hard to determine truth from fiction so I would like to dispel some rumors now so they do not interfere with my fame.
1) The alleged affair between myself and Jeanette Miller (former girlfriend of Simon Seville) did not have anything to do with the demise of the band.
2) I was not the individual who started the disturbance in the Las Vegas strip club "Zee Zee's," Elijah Wood threw the first punch.
3)I have successfully completed my court-ordered stint at rehab and have not fallen back into any bad gambling habits, you can put money on that.
4) Any photos leaked from my cell phone would only have included many photos of my cat in various stages of sleep and close friends complaining they did not want their picture take at that time even though they're dressed to go out, I mean come on, you look fine, now smile!
I think I am well prepared for my awesomeness to come to fruition.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Making Cents, And Other Craptacular Puns
The other day I looked in my wallet and I had $27 dollars.
It was not as easy as simply having a $20 dollar bill, a $5, and two $1's. I had another mixture of bills which eventually lead me to $27. Now this normally would not be anything but an afterthought. I was not planning on spending $27 on any particular item. There was not a prized $27 possession I have recently pawned in order to keep any "slightly expensive to a middle schooler" habit I have acquired over the last few months. And I was not $27 dollars short on the ransom sent to me so I would stop getting fingers of a loved one in the mail. This $27 was special because I thought I only had $8.
There's a large difference between 8 and 27. Having more is always thought to be better. For instance, if I have 8 friends we could play 4-on-4 football with an automatic quarterback, but with 27 friends I could have a full game and exclude people! Or when getting in a scuffle at the Elementary School wouldn't you rather have a posse of 27 instead of 8. I mean, if an internet test says I could take out twenty-four fifth graders before being overrun, imagine the mountains of unconscious 10-year-olds we would leave in our wake! They'd have to ship in 5th graders from other districts to quench our blood lust!
What about the other side of the coin? Having $8 in your pocket and getting stabbed over it while coming out of a shady liqueur store late at night is a much better news story than a guy holding $27. That kind of money can buy Monster Ballads I & II on iTunes, and if I'm stabbing someone outside of a liqueur store late at night, its to purchase MP3s legally through an internet music site.
Some questions are still up for debate. The choice between 8 and 27 cannot be distinguished by a clear consensus and has left a rift in this once peaceful community. Both sides have fair arguments so I leave it to the PBS standard and let "Viewers Like You" debate it out.
Your Question: Which is a more preferable amount of toes to have?
It was not as easy as simply having a $20 dollar bill, a $5, and two $1's. I had another mixture of bills which eventually lead me to $27. Now this normally would not be anything but an afterthought. I was not planning on spending $27 on any particular item. There was not a prized $27 possession I have recently pawned in order to keep any "slightly expensive to a middle schooler" habit I have acquired over the last few months. And I was not $27 dollars short on the ransom sent to me so I would stop getting fingers of a loved one in the mail. This $27 was special because I thought I only had $8.
There's a large difference between 8 and 27. Having more is always thought to be better. For instance, if I have 8 friends we could play 4-on-4 football with an automatic quarterback, but with 27 friends I could have a full game and exclude people! Or when getting in a scuffle at the Elementary School wouldn't you rather have a posse of 27 instead of 8. I mean, if an internet test says I could take out twenty-four fifth graders before being overrun, imagine the mountains of unconscious 10-year-olds we would leave in our wake! They'd have to ship in 5th graders from other districts to quench our blood lust!
What about the other side of the coin? Having $8 in your pocket and getting stabbed over it while coming out of a shady liqueur store late at night is a much better news story than a guy holding $27. That kind of money can buy Monster Ballads I & II on iTunes, and if I'm stabbing someone outside of a liqueur store late at night, its to purchase MP3s legally through an internet music site.
Some questions are still up for debate. The choice between 8 and 27 cannot be distinguished by a clear consensus and has left a rift in this once peaceful community. Both sides have fair arguments so I leave it to the PBS standard and let "Viewers Like You" debate it out.
Your Question: Which is a more preferable amount of toes to have?
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