share with me

I’m leaving tonight after work to go to Charlottesville, Virginia, for the weekend, so let’s just say that my mind is not really here right now.

Because I’m not really feeling very insightful (yes, all of my posts are insightful) today, I thought I’d post some polls that will no doubt say a lot about who you are as a person and what you think this world can be.

I have a guest post lined up for tomorrow, so please come and check it out, but in the mean time, take a minute out of Googling pictures of “snake bites dude” (seriously, you should click that link) and answer these polls.  You’ll be a better person because of it.

get to it

Science and technology are overall, pretty great.

I’m glad they are around to give us stuff like electric toothbrushes and hula hoops, and yeah, I was happy when texting became available so I could send my drunken thoughts on jelly donuts (no ever eats them, it’s like this complete myth of a donut) to all my friends.

However, when we consider all the advancements that science has given us, there is one thing that is glaringly amiss:

Hopefully they make a model in something a little more masculine.

No, not Michael J. Fox’s stunning good looks – I’m talking about the hoverboard.

If there was one thing that I would ask scientists, it would be “What happened to the hoverboard?”  When Back to the Future II hit the theaters, and we saw Marty McFly creating the hoverboard by ripping apart a kid’s scooter, the entire world sat back and said, “Well, forget cancer research, this is something we need to have.”

And after the movie there were rumors – oh how there were rumors!  Mattell was busy constructing one, but didn’t have the resources to do it, and on and on.  With each rumor I wondered – is today the day they finally figure out the hoverboard?

But no.

The years went by and still no hoverboard.  Oh sure, since we first saw the hoverboard we got things like The Hubble Telescope (pictures of space!  Woo hoo!) and the cloning of Dolly The Sheep (now, with cleaner poop!), but who really cares about that stuff?  And since Back to the Future II was set in 2015, the scientists really don’t have much more time to get this thing on track.

Enough of the games, Smart People – I want a hoverboard and I want one now.

Stop everything else and get on it, scientists.  And while you’re at it, figure out how to make it go faster over water, because you better believe I plan on taking that baby to the beach.  We’ll see how cool those surfers think they are then.

get what you want

I like to think of myself as a pretty influential guy, but I’m not sure I really am.

I think that when I tell people about a movie I enjoyed, they take that to heart and go see it. But I imagine what really happens is that they smile and nod and then two minutes later forget what we were talking about.

And I guess I’m okay with not being able to sway people’s thoughts, because it takes a special person to be able to do this.  There are really only a handful of people throughout history who have this ability.

Of course the first person that comes to mind is the kid who made the very first snowman.

Think about a snowman.

It’s three mounds of snow piled on top of each other, with a carrot and some other random stuff used to represent limbs, or in the case of Unique Snowmen, genitals.

They don’t look like a person at all.

Yet somehow, even though it looks nothing like it’s supposed to, it remains a semi-relevant figure in our world today.  Kind of like Tara Reid.

Whoever the kid was who made the first snowman had to be able to influence people in a major way.

Johnny: [Looking upon the first ever snowman] “Uh, Carl?  That doesn’t look like right.  I mean, it’s just three piles of snow.”

Carl: [Turning to Johnny] “Oh, it’s a person alright.  And you know why? Because I say so and because if you don’t tell everyone that this looks exactly like a person, I’m going to tell Cindy Lawson about how you still wet the bed.”

Johnny: [Starting to cry, and unfortunately, starting to dampen his pants] “I get nervous sometimes!”

Obviously Carl was a master of persuasion.

From then on every time a little kid sees snow falling to the ground, he thinks of rolling a bunch of snow together to form a big hunk of crap that doesn’t resemble what it’s supposed to in any way.

I wish I could be more like Carl, but sadly, I get nervous sometimes too.

the truth will set you free

With the economy in the crapper, it seems like the subway platforms here in the city are getting more and more crowded with people singing and playing instruments for money.

This strategy is a flawed one of course, because 1) No one who sings in the subway is good and 2) Because they sound like cats dying, no one feels compelled to give them any money.

There are the few people that are so mad they actually give them money in hopes that this will make them stop singing, but this never works.

I don’t understand why the subway panhandlers don’t just change their overall strategy altogether.

What they need to do is offer people that pass by random tips about life – that taken separately will be entirely vague, but in the end make sense in some way to each person that hears them.

Here are some phrases that the beggars could offer up which would inevitably strike a chord with someone:

“That guy just didn’t get the joke.  It wasn’t that it wasn’t funny – it was just too smart.”

“It’s okay – I like Keith Urban too.”

“Her sister is annoying.”

“I thought that shirt looked great.”

“Maybe next time you’ll drink even more – that’ll show them.”

“What were you supposed to do?  Not touch her boob?”

The list of things they could say is practically never ending.  They just need to utter some sparadoc thought, wait for someone to identify with it, and reap the rewards.

I’m holding out though, because until I hear someone say, “Your blog is going to make you rich and famous and Michael Jackson is writing a comeback album all about it that in no way could be interpreted as him liking to touch little boys,” no one is getting my 37 cents.

add it up

Cashing or depositing saved up change is perhaps one of the most awkward events that a person ever has to endure.

When you bring in your bag of change that no doubt has accumulated some paper clips, lint and trash along the way, you feel ashamed.  Here you are, this Person With A Life, and somehow, holding this bag full of change has ruined all of that.

You walk past people, biting your tongue to keep from shouting at them all, “I have a job, seriously!  I don’t even need this change.  I have twenty dollars in my pocket right now – I swear!  You want to see it???”

It can be quite a humbling experience.

But then, after you’ve finished putting all your change in the machine that counts the money and cursing it under your breath for repeatedly spitting out the pesos (how the hell does it know the difference???), your mood alters dramatically.

With the slip that proudly displays the amount you deserve in cash, you are on top of the world, and not afraid to let the teller know it.  You hand over the slip, the teller gives you your money and the entire time you’re standing there smugly thinking, “You know, I didn’t have this money before.  Now I do.  I have real money now.”

At this point the world is your oyster!  You suddenly have become the proud owner of $23 that you can spend as frivolously as your heart desires!

A hot dog for lunch?  Make it two!

And why stop there? Perhaps a Sprite to wash it down while you’re at it!

It’s a topsy turvy experience, bringing in your change, and there’s not much you can do about it.

Now back to figuring out how to disguise those pesos.

once bitten, twice shy

It must be hard to be from Transylvania.

Think about all the vampire jokes you’d have to deal with every single day of your life.  You’d never be able to escape them, no matter what you did.

You simply cannot introduce yourself as Ralph from Transylvania and expect the same reaction that Ralph from Iowa gets.

Every moment of your life would be marked because some dude named Bram Stoker wrote a book about a million years ago. And of course ol’ Bram wasn’t even from Transylvania, so he never had to deal with it.  He just got to be that dude who wrote about Creepy Stuff and as we all know, the ladies love them some Creepy Stuff.

Being from Transylvania, you don’t get to enjoy the finer things that Bram did, you just get the jokes.

You’re at your desk, enjoying a jelly donut and looking up quotes from Krull to drop at the next party you go to, and someone says, “Whoa there Dracula – you’re really loving sucking the jelly out of there aren’t you?”

You’re on a date, you tell the woman where you’re from and she drops, “So after dinner I bet you’re gonna turn into a bat and fly away.”  Of course you’d like to reply, “Possibly – if you don’t stop eating like a rabid hyena.” But you don’t.

You sit there and you smile.

You learn to tune them out and sometimes give the standard “Dracula pose” to get laughs when all you really want to do is punch someone in the knee.

It’s not your fault you were born in Transylvania, but really, just look on the bright side:  You can wear a cape at any time and no one will say a damn thing.

float like a butterfly

In the spirit of Learning Something New every 15 years or so, I’m now learning how to box.

Every day at the gym, I run, I lift and then I box.  Not with other people – I’m not some kind of idiot. I just hit the bag.

It is a lot of fun and a great workout and blah, blah, blah.

I could go on and on about how it improves your coordination, endurance and strength, but let’s be honest – I’m in it for the nickname.

Everyone knows the best part about boxing is the handle you get when you start learning the sport. Granted, I’m not actually fighting anyone other than a large, heavy, leather-bound bag, so I don’t really need a nickname, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one.

I just want something to recite in my head as I hit that bag: “Chris The ________ My Last Name!”  (I’m not giving you my last name because then I know you’ll stalk me and probably ask for my autograph on your forehead and then we’ll get drinks and I’ll make you pay after you tell me you stole a pair of my boxer briefs.)

I don’t want it to be something too cheesy either, so I’m immediately crossing out The Destroyer, Hits You Hard and Iron Fists.

Yes, those were some I thought of this morning, and no, I am not more creative than that.

I also want it to be something that really strikes fear into that bag, because trust me, even though it’s an inanimate object, it’s heavy and it wears you out.  Kind of like trying to figure out Memento.

Of course I have to rule out anything to do with blogging, because I just don’t think “The Meme Poster” or “Obsessive Stats Checker” really have the effect I’m looking for.

I’ve thought of several more since I started writing this, and I have one now that I think I like.

Ready?

“Prime Cut.”

Oh snap!

You love it don’t you???

Think about it – it works on so many levels.  First, I’m a vegetarian, so there’s irony or something literary at work there and second (and the best reason) I deliver Grade A punches sucka!

Man, I am a genius or at the very least someone with too much time on his hands.

Okay, probably the latter, but really, could you do any better?

I can’t wait until tomorrow so I can tell the bag about my new nickname.  I will probably not tell the people training me, though.  I don’t want to make them jealous or anything.

anticipations of regret

There are lots of things that people say that I don’t really understand.

Like “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

Being a Simple Man, this is exactly what I do.

All the time.

I think about one thing until it is Thought Through, and then I move on. How am I supposed to concentrate on the perfect jelly to peanut butter ratio in a PB&J sandwich when I’m still thinking about who would win in a fight – Tony Little or John Basedow?

Obviously I can’t.

And then there’s when someone apologizes first, before telling you no.

When people do this, I just don’t know how to reply. It’s going to be awkward.

Like when you call to make a reservation at a restaurant, and the hostess says, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t have any open spots tonight.”

What do you even say back to that person?

Do you apologize back for any pain you might have caused? “Well, I’m sorry that you’re sorry – I really didn’t mean anything by it, I just wanted some baked ziti.”

But I really don’t think they are sorry at all.

In fact, I’m willing to bet that they are quite pleased with being able to deny you whatever it is that you’re inquiring about.

The person apologizing to you is going to be okay. They are not, after you accept defeat, going to call their close friend and sob to them about how they wish they “could just help everyone all the time!”

Yet the person wants you to know that they have personally been affected by this Most Unfortunate Situation and their heart does indeed go out to you.

However, if it really is true – if they are truly sorry – then it’s actually quite tragic to think about.

All of the people in my life who have said the phrase to me have been marred with pain – because of me. Including those who said this recurring apology of my childhood: “I’m sorry, but I just think Dan Fauth is cuter than you.”

And this is why it’s so confusing to me – I just don’t know whether the person could care less or if they really are being sincere.

I guess I can judge each person differently according to the situation, because I’m fairly certain that I am cuter than Dan Fauth, the bane of my existence from sixth to eighth grade, and see how it goes from there.

And yes, I’m sorry, but that’s the best answer I’ve got.

the best i can be

I often find myself comparing things to find out which I prefer. This usually leads to many moments of stimulating conversation and maybe someone telling me I think too much about Things That Don’t Matter.

But I enjoy it, so I do it anyway.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about Saved By The Bell, arguably the best TV show ever created.

When I was younger I used to think if I could be anyone, I would want to be Zack Morris, but lately I’ve come to understand that Zack was actually inferior to A.C. and that I was a fool – a fool! – for thinking that Zack was better.

A.C. was the fucking man.

He was the outsider – the drifter. Women love the drifters – just ask Clint Eastwood – dude gets mad ladies.

He was also the athlete of the group. Actually he was pretty much the only athlete in the entire school. He was a star wrestler, the quarterback on the football team and he was also on the basketball team.

A three sport star! How many sports do you star in? That’s what I thought.

Oh, and did I mention that A.C. was a drummer and a dancer? Yes. Soak that in my friends.

Did you ever notice how he called Zack “Preppie” and Jessie “Momma?” That’s because A.C. played by his own rules!

Zach was nothing compared to A.C.

Sure he got some girls and he ended up with Kelly, the prize of all Bayside, but overall he was pretty lame.

Zach always got busted because of his stupid schemes and his best friend was Screech.

Screech!

Why the hell would you choose Screech as your best friend???

Also, because Zack was always getting busted, Mr. Belding always kept his eye on him.

Meanwhile, what’s A.C. doing?

Oh just being the gangsta that he is and winning championships for the football team.

A.C. Slater is clearly the choice here.

He is the better man in every way. Something for us all to strive for, someone that we can all look at and think, “One day damnit. One day I’ll be just like him.”

Well, aside from the jheri curl.

I think I’ll pass on that.

product details

I was in the shower after the gym this morning, when I noticed something odd on my shampoo bottle.

Below all the shit about washing, lathering and repeating (who repeats?  Really, once is enough unless you roll around in dirt for a living) there was some text that read, “Satisfaction Guaranteed.  Any questions or comments, please call…”

I would like to know, who actually calls?

You know someone calls.

There is someone out there, who between living their life and trying to Be A Person, finds time to place calls to shampoo companies with comments on their products.

I wonder what the comment would be?

I mean, if it was me, I imagine I’d say something like, “I’m really enjoying the suds this stuff makes.  I used to use some other shampoo, and it didn’t make nearly the amount of suds that your product makes.  What is it about suds that makes me think the more there are the cleaner I’m getting?  Well, whatever you’re doing, the amount of suds is suckering me into spending ten dollars a bottle, so keep it up!”

What else could you possibly say about shampoo?

The fact that my satisfaction is guaranteed is even more amazing.

How do they know what my shampooing experience must be in order for me to be satisfied?

I could be really picky about shampoo and never be satisfied.   Sometimes I don’t eat grapes because they’re too small, so maybe I’ll never be happy with my shampoo and call them everyday about it.

And what do they do if I do tell them I’m not satisfied?  Do they send me a new bottle?  That wouldn’t be smart, now would it?  Maybe they send me my money back – that would be smarter.  The smartest thing to do would be to send me something I’d have no way of not being satisfied with, like a rubber band ball, those things are awesome.

I think maybe I’ll go ahead and call them, just to check in.  Tell them that I did shower this morning and yes, I am satisfied.

I think that will make them happy – and that’s what I like to do – Make People Happy.