My job can be one of two things on any given day. It can be pretty fun or it can be really funny, and not in the funny "ha-ha" sense, but in the "What the fuck am I doing here?" sense. That's the one where you are secretly laughing to yourself, or in my case out loud, while shaking your head fighting back the tears wondering where it all went wrong. What causes me to feel this way? Well, I deal with a lot of underage children, strike that, I deal with a lot of over protective adults who have to deal with children. Let me explain.
Besides covering high school sporting events, my company also deals with an ailing local school district who have hired a third party company to come in and help teach the teacher to teach more gooder. How does that saying go? "Those who can't do, teach." Then what is the one for the teachers who teach teachers? So, that third party company then hires my company to send a videographer to these teaching sessions so that they can be documented, put on a DVD, and then distributed to other teachers to watch later. These things typically go like this; the consultant (usually a former teacher) meets with four or five 'real' teachers, they plan a lesson and then they implement that lesson in one of the teacher's classrooms that same day. This usually happens within a 3 hour span and all in front of the camera. The problem begins the minute I set foot in to the school. Why? I am an unmarried twenty-something with a beard.
Run for the fucking hills.
I used to dress up for these things, nice shirt, slacks, and a sharp-ass tie. I would shave the morning of, using an actual razor, and I would arrive a half-hour early. I'd go directly to the office to check in and find out what classroom the consulting was going down in, and every time without fail, I would get the third degree. So I stopped dressing up and have since started going as my normally moderately handsome disheveled self, because what difference would it make? A huge one. I often can't use the restroom without being escorted there first, my id is checked when I enter a school, and parents will stare me down eying my tripod as though it was some kind of three stage pipe bomb. It's become kind of routine, which is sad for me as an American.
What really gets me is who the crap do these people think I am? Why am I treated like a level three sex offender when I get within 100 yards of a fucking elementary school? What makes them think I want anything to do with their ugly children? Do they really think I am their under my own volition? Who in their right mind would actually want be near a smelly kid, who has yet to discover that simple human hygiene is an integral part of a functioning society? In other words, I hate kids more than I hate dolphins, and man do I hate dolphins. Those things are assholes.
I will relay one more short tale for you my dear internets. About five months ago I was at a high school to film a basketball game. I was the director so I headed in first to meet with the AD and figure out where we could set up. I find the AD quickly and introduce myself, here is the conversation that ensued.
EA: Howdy, I'm Elliot. We're here to shoot the game.
AD: Whoa! We don't say that around here!
EA: (Half-smile/WTF? look) Ahhhhh....excuse me?
AD: (Serious whisper)We don't say that word around here.
It turns out that I had made a huge mistake by using some common terminology, even more, I had used a regularly spoken word which because of an event that had transpired two weeks prior, was no longer allowed to be used on campus. That's right, two weeks earlier, there had been a shooting outside of the school involving students, where two students were injured but not killed. So, The Ministry of Truth, or the Ministry of Funny Walks, I forget which, had decided to ban a word because if someone were to use it, a firefight might break out.
I realize that these people are just trying to do their jobs, and if that somehow puts parents minds at ease then more power to them. I just wish that I didn't have to do a constant dance so that these people could feel a little (fake) safer. The thing is I am about the last thing they need to be watching out for these days, perhaps they should look a little closer to home. Though, if any of my teachers had looked like that...
Monday, May 21, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
facconble
Every year around this time I get little excited about the weather, because it mostly means the end of the craptacular weather that seems to be indicative to this city. But I also like it because you get to see the latest trends that women will be wearing all summer long. Some trends are better than others of course. Tennis skirts were all the rage two summers ago, which were pretty alright, not that I would ever a date a girl who would wear one. Then there was that time about five years ago, I like to refer to it as the "Capri-pocalypse", in which every female on the planet seemed to be rocking capri pants, which are universally hated by men. Okay, so I don't know that for a fact, since I haven't met every man in the universe, but every dood I know hate them with a burning passion. Ladies take note, not of the fact that I am an asshole, but of the fact that capri pants suck ace. Which brings me to the theme of tonights blahg; this summers latest and terrible female fashion trend...the sun dress with leggings.
Oh man, fuck this trend, seriously. It seems that lately everything from the 80's is making a comeback in every form. From music to food. But some things are better left behind and leggings underneath nicely fitting dresses are one of those things, those and "Tab" cola. Today I saw 3 really attractive women at three seperate locations all wearing this ensemble. I am a huge fan of the summerdress, I will even go as far as to say that if I had a girlfriend who only wore a summer dress for the rest of her life I would not complain. Okay, summer dresses. So why do they have to go and ruin a completely sexy outfit by tardin' it out with some shitty leggings? Is it because Avril Lavigne wore something similar in her latest video with an ill concieved title? Something like "Dirtbykn' dyud" or "I'm Canadian, therfore I am punk!". I liked the first one more too.
Listen, ladies if you are going to do something like this, try it on at home first and really think about it. I mean really think. That sundress looks really good on you, and summer means that you no longer have to cover up your legs because, gasp!, the sun is shining. Also, what the f is the point in wearing a dress that shows some leg if you are going to wear dark stockings underneath?
As a closer, I fell in love with a girl on the bus today, which happens on a daily basis but most of the time they get off before I can decide whether or not I am going to marry them, which leaves everything very open ended. Today was different however, I actually got to sit next to my future wife and was able to divorce her two stops before she got off which was great cause I only had to drop a small amount of mental skrill, and not the physical kind.
I got on the bus this afternoon and was lucky to find myself a seat next to a very pretty girl. I had been pissed because I didn't bring my iPod with me so I was pretty sure I was going to have to sit next to some asshole yammering on his cellphone. Instead, I found myslef sitting next to a brunette twenty-something. She looked over at me a few times (maybe), while I focused on the tattoo behind the ear of the chick in front of me thinking "Wow, what a stupid place for a tattoo." I soon turned my attention to the music the pretty girl was listening to. At first I imagined that she was listening to something I really liked, some "cutter music", as my friend Dantron says. I day dreamed about lazy Sunday mornings with her in my bed, and going to Art Walk every first Thursday sipping on wine and laughing at the tourists. Insert record skip here. Guess what she was really listening to?
Fergalicious. As she got off the bus, I could see every flaw in her and realized the bullet I had dodged. Also she was wearing those really huge sunglasses that were super hip in Europe like 5 years ago, another trend that I can't stand.
Christ, I'm an asshole. To be honest I'd take any girl who bothered to give me a high-five at this point, leggings or not.
Oh man, fuck this trend, seriously. It seems that lately everything from the 80's is making a comeback in every form. From music to food. But some things are better left behind and leggings underneath nicely fitting dresses are one of those things, those and "Tab" cola. Today I saw 3 really attractive women at three seperate locations all wearing this ensemble. I am a huge fan of the summerdress, I will even go as far as to say that if I had a girlfriend who only wore a summer dress for the rest of her life I would not complain. Okay, summer dresses. So why do they have to go and ruin a completely sexy outfit by tardin' it out with some shitty leggings? Is it because Avril Lavigne wore something similar in her latest video with an ill concieved title? Something like "Dirtbykn' dyud" or "I'm Canadian, therfore I am punk!". I liked the first one more too.
Listen, ladies if you are going to do something like this, try it on at home first and really think about it. I mean really think. That sundress looks really good on you, and summer means that you no longer have to cover up your legs because, gasp!, the sun is shining. Also, what the f is the point in wearing a dress that shows some leg if you are going to wear dark stockings underneath?
As a closer, I fell in love with a girl on the bus today, which happens on a daily basis but most of the time they get off before I can decide whether or not I am going to marry them, which leaves everything very open ended. Today was different however, I actually got to sit next to my future wife and was able to divorce her two stops before she got off which was great cause I only had to drop a small amount of mental skrill, and not the physical kind.
I got on the bus this afternoon and was lucky to find myself a seat next to a very pretty girl. I had been pissed because I didn't bring my iPod with me so I was pretty sure I was going to have to sit next to some asshole yammering on his cellphone. Instead, I found myslef sitting next to a brunette twenty-something. She looked over at me a few times (maybe), while I focused on the tattoo behind the ear of the chick in front of me thinking "Wow, what a stupid place for a tattoo." I soon turned my attention to the music the pretty girl was listening to. At first I imagined that she was listening to something I really liked, some "cutter music", as my friend Dantron says. I day dreamed about lazy Sunday mornings with her in my bed, and going to Art Walk every first Thursday sipping on wine and laughing at the tourists. Insert record skip here. Guess what she was really listening to?
Fergalicious. As she got off the bus, I could see every flaw in her and realized the bullet I had dodged. Also she was wearing those really huge sunglasses that were super hip in Europe like 5 years ago, another trend that I can't stand.
Christ, I'm an asshole. To be honest I'd take any girl who bothered to give me a high-five at this point, leggings or not.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
the brah-thel
August 2002 – April 2007 was the timeline of my tenure at my last house. Right on the cusp of 5 years, and I believe that my stay probably could have ended two years ago, mainly because that is when all the fun and all of the good memories ceased. I could blame this on many different things from roommates, to the house being sold to a different management company. In truth, I think what happened was that I changed and became something different. It was that, or it was the fact that all of my roommates girlfriends secretly wanted to jump my bones, which caused a rather awkward rift between all of us. Or maybe it was my affinity for wild coke parties and down tempo house. Whatever the reason I should have left a long time ago, but I am glad I was there long enough to experience some of the things I am about to tell you, my dear interblags about.
The Slutty Lingerie Party and the Canon XL-1
It was probably around December of 2003, I had survived an entire year at the house and still generally liked all my roommates. This house was, and as far I know still is dominated by ex-Frat doods. This was never a big deal until that night in the onset of winter. I don’t know how many of you know this, but the collegiate Greek society often get together and partake in acts of hedonism. From my understanding they would sometimes have mixers in which males would mix with the females, however before this union could ever happen, the respective parties would first have to imbibe their pre-funk libations at separate locations. Not only were these mixers a big deal but they often carried themes, and not the oh-so-classic-and-often-over-the-top toga theme that you’ve seen in nearly every flick involving this sort of content, but such inspired ideas as; Pimps & Ho’s or the “Italian Wedding”, which if I could even begin to explain to myself would be it’s own post entirely. Structure.
For some reason that I can’t remember involving a theme party that escapes me, fifty scantily clad women between the ages of 18 and 22 showed up at the “bin” to pre-funk before heading over to the actual party itself. From my understanding and from what people in the know have told me, drinking is not allowed in Sororities, so they have to get sufficiently drunk outside of their finely appointed “mansions”, so that they can feel completely normal dressing up like some tweenager’s wet dream, or for that matter, mine. Anyway, they start showing up in handfuls, mostly dressed like cheap burlesque show girls. Okay, so not all of them had cheap lingerie on but what dood could tell the difference? As I was saying, they started coming in to my house hand-over-fist style, and at first, I was making some sort of an attempt to introduce myself to them, but unfortunately they were exposing too much of the wanton female flesh that I so craved at the time, and I was therefore reduced to my rather meek, irreproachable self who will often end conversations abruptly by saying something very stupid. By 9:30pm the house was covered wall to wall with cleavage, and by that point I had holed myself up in my room due to the fact that I couldn't control my unwanted amorous glances which rarely ended anywhere above their necklines.
Keep in mind this was 50 really, really, inebriated sorority girls so I don't have to tell you how loud it was, except I will using an highly entertaining and onriginal analogy. It was louder in there than some Apalachians incest hootenanny, or whatever. They were banging on the walls and doing some really annoying chant thing, and then my roomate the Big Headed Ecuadorian (BHE) in his enternal wisdom broke out his brand new mini-dv camera, which naturally alarmed the natives. The ladies flew in to a fit which was sort of funny because you know that later that night at the fraternity house they would be going to, they were probably going to end up doing all sorts of depraved acts cameras or no.
BHE put his camera away and the night went on. As the girls started to leave for the real party, I would occasionally leave my room to go out on the deck with my friend Scribbles who had stopped by very fortuitously. I had some of the dumbest conversations that I have ever had in my life that night, but truth be told, I wasn't out there for the repartee.
I was out there for a ciggarette. Ha! You thought I was going to go with a misogyny joke there didn't you? That's just lazy writing. Tune in very soon for yet another story from my old house, also thank Enron for the title of this inter-blog by going and checking her's out.
The Slutty Lingerie Party and the Canon XL-1
It was probably around December of 2003, I had survived an entire year at the house and still generally liked all my roommates. This house was, and as far I know still is dominated by ex-Frat doods. This was never a big deal until that night in the onset of winter. I don’t know how many of you know this, but the collegiate Greek society often get together and partake in acts of hedonism. From my understanding they would sometimes have mixers in which males would mix with the females, however before this union could ever happen, the respective parties would first have to imbibe their pre-funk libations at separate locations. Not only were these mixers a big deal but they often carried themes, and not the oh-so-classic-and-often-over-the-top toga theme that you’ve seen in nearly every flick involving this sort of content, but such inspired ideas as; Pimps & Ho’s or the “Italian Wedding”, which if I could even begin to explain to myself would be it’s own post entirely. Structure.
For some reason that I can’t remember involving a theme party that escapes me, fifty scantily clad women between the ages of 18 and 22 showed up at the “bin” to pre-funk before heading over to the actual party itself. From my understanding and from what people in the know have told me, drinking is not allowed in Sororities, so they have to get sufficiently drunk outside of their finely appointed “mansions”, so that they can feel completely normal dressing up like some tweenager’s wet dream, or for that matter, mine. Anyway, they start showing up in handfuls, mostly dressed like cheap burlesque show girls. Okay, so not all of them had cheap lingerie on but what dood could tell the difference? As I was saying, they started coming in to my house hand-over-fist style, and at first, I was making some sort of an attempt to introduce myself to them, but unfortunately they were exposing too much of the wanton female flesh that I so craved at the time, and I was therefore reduced to my rather meek, irreproachable self who will often end conversations abruptly by saying something very stupid. By 9:30pm the house was covered wall to wall with cleavage, and by that point I had holed myself up in my room due to the fact that I couldn't control my unwanted amorous glances which rarely ended anywhere above their necklines.
Keep in mind this was 50 really, really, inebriated sorority girls so I don't have to tell you how loud it was, except I will using an highly entertaining and onriginal analogy. It was louder in there than some Apalachians incest hootenanny, or whatever. They were banging on the walls and doing some really annoying chant thing, and then my roomate the Big Headed Ecuadorian (BHE) in his enternal wisdom broke out his brand new mini-dv camera, which naturally alarmed the natives. The ladies flew in to a fit which was sort of funny because you know that later that night at the fraternity house they would be going to, they were probably going to end up doing all sorts of depraved acts cameras or no.
BHE put his camera away and the night went on. As the girls started to leave for the real party, I would occasionally leave my room to go out on the deck with my friend Scribbles who had stopped by very fortuitously. I had some of the dumbest conversations that I have ever had in my life that night, but truth be told, I wasn't out there for the repartee.
I was out there for a ciggarette. Ha! You thought I was going to go with a misogyny joke there didn't you? That's just lazy writing. Tune in very soon for yet another story from my old house, also thank Enron for the title of this inter-blog by going and checking her's out.
Friday, May 4, 2007
lock-up ballard
So I realize that the wheels sort of fell off the proverbial bus over here at BAABP. First I blew Dork Week by not completing 5 posts, and then I didn't make a single post last week. I apologize but I have one or two really good reasons for my incompetence/neglect. Let me start with why Dork Week blew up in my stupid internet face, well it's mainly because I was moving out of my house that week and in to a new (and much better place) out here in breezy Ballard, that and writing 5 posts in one week is next to impossible when you have a job and some drinkn' to do. The other part stems from my lack of internet here at my new place.
So to start things off I would first like to give you some introspective and to preface the stories I will be delivering hot and fresh to your dust covered monitor come Wednesday. What with the "dust covered monitor" remark you might be asking yourself right now? Come on internet, is there any other reason for you to be traipsing through this digital hell then to read my blarrg?
Answer: Absolutely not.
When one of my best friends/roommate left the city almost a year ago, I found myself in a house full of people, 4 to be precise, that I had absolutely nothing in common with. Shit, I wasn't even cool with them when Steve was around but at least Steve was there to bridge the gap or someone that I could relate to and share a beer or two with when I got home from work. When he left however all bets were off, and I found myself in a house full of people I knew next to nothing about, and who knew nothing about me. For the next 8 months I would barricade myself in my room rarely conversing with them, other than to hand them the odd amount of money involving bills, rent, or something they had decided to buy and then charge the rest of us for whatever retarded reason they deemed fit. My already high amount of introversion turned to the extreme spectrum and I basically stopped calling my friends to go and hang out, save Enron who really, whether she knew or not, got me through some shit.
So what's the deal? After a week of living at my new place I have done more than I did in basically a year. Okay, so I am embellishing...a lot, but still I've spent almost the last two years stifled by not only my environment, but I guess even more stifled by my own inability to just commit and pull the trigger.
I'm not trying to sound too sentimental here (like I said I didn't want to make this blag personal), but for the first time since 2001, I actually feel comfortable around the people that I am living with. Not only are they like minded in everything that I am in to; music, art, film etc. They are also an excellent counter point/balance to my otherwise neurotic self. Nicknames abound! I'm kind of partial to "Voltron" when they are together...
Tune in on Wednesday, when I will expunge some of the greatest moments from my time at the "Looney Bin", the place I was living at before I moved here.
Wordles.
So to start things off I would first like to give you some introspective and to preface the stories I will be delivering hot and fresh to your dust covered monitor come Wednesday. What with the "dust covered monitor" remark you might be asking yourself right now? Come on internet, is there any other reason for you to be traipsing through this digital hell then to read my blarrg?
Answer: Absolutely not.
When one of my best friends/roommate left the city almost a year ago, I found myself in a house full of people, 4 to be precise, that I had absolutely nothing in common with. Shit, I wasn't even cool with them when Steve was around but at least Steve was there to bridge the gap or someone that I could relate to and share a beer or two with when I got home from work. When he left however all bets were off, and I found myself in a house full of people I knew next to nothing about, and who knew nothing about me. For the next 8 months I would barricade myself in my room rarely conversing with them, other than to hand them the odd amount of money involving bills, rent, or something they had decided to buy and then charge the rest of us for whatever retarded reason they deemed fit. My already high amount of introversion turned to the extreme spectrum and I basically stopped calling my friends to go and hang out, save Enron who really, whether she knew or not, got me through some shit.
So what's the deal? After a week of living at my new place I have done more than I did in basically a year. Okay, so I am embellishing...a lot, but still I've spent almost the last two years stifled by not only my environment, but I guess even more stifled by my own inability to just commit and pull the trigger.
I'm not trying to sound too sentimental here (like I said I didn't want to make this blag personal), but for the first time since 2001, I actually feel comfortable around the people that I am living with. Not only are they like minded in everything that I am in to; music, art, film etc. They are also an excellent counter point/balance to my otherwise neurotic self. Nicknames abound! I'm kind of partial to "Voltron" when they are together...
Tune in on Wednesday, when I will expunge some of the greatest moments from my time at the "Looney Bin", the place I was living at before I moved here.
Wordles.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
meh
Dork Week rages on! Today's foray in to nerdom is about music, because on Wednesdays I like to update the "Recommended Listening" section with a band that I am kind of into right now. So I'm going to hit you with a little story.
It's 1994, I am 12 years old, and obsessed with videogames. Music is far from my realm of understanding. What I do understand though is that the soundtrack to Final Fantasy III is one of best things I have ever heard. I was so in love with it's 16bit goodness that you could often find me humming some of the more memorable tunes even when I wasn't playing. Back then the internet was just a toddler but you could still download crap off of it. I scoured it high and low looking for .wav files that conta....
...sorry everyone my internets are down again I am posting from a cell phone, right now. I'll fix it tommorow.
It's 1994, I am 12 years old, and obsessed with videogames. Music is far from my realm of understanding. What I do understand though is that the soundtrack to Final Fantasy III is one of best things I have ever heard. I was so in love with it's 16bit goodness that you could often find me humming some of the more memorable tunes even when I wasn't playing. Back then the internet was just a toddler but you could still download crap off of it. I scoured it high and low looking for .wav files that conta....
...sorry everyone my internets are down again I am posting from a cell phone, right now. I'll fix it tommorow.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
of nerds
Welcome back to Dork Week! I return with yet another personal tale of my dalliances with the nerd kind. Though this is an old post I wrote on MySpace, I think it works well here given the theme and tone. I never said that all of the entries this week were going to be gems. I would love to post everyday with original content but I have a job that takes up a good majority of my life. A job that gives me money, the only thing this blahg gives me is "ego dollars", which they don't except at the liquor store despite my pleading.
Originally posted on MySpace Friday, February 3rd, 2006
Title: "Are you guys going to be using Seahawks glasses today?"
So today I was commissioned to do a little "freelance" bartending for a catering event in Redmond, specifically for Microsoft. To be more specific, it was for the people working on the new Windows OS, 1500 of them to be precise. To be even more precise, 1500 nerds. I'm not joking, this was a real eye-opener. I have never seen so many socially inept people in one place at one time. Jon and I were serving two kinds of beer, Mac & Jacks and Moose Drool, which were clearly visible behind, and still we were asked what kind of beer we had. Here is a memorable example.
Nerd: Are you guys serving beer?
The Help: Yes, we are. Plus, we have wine!
N: What do you guys have?
TH: (TH looks at N with the "Are you serious look?" or AYSL) Well, we have M & J, Moose Drool, Merlot and Chardonay.
N: So can I get a beer?
TH: Yes you can. Which one would you like?
N: I'll take a Budweiser.
TH: (AYSL) We don't have that. We only have M & J and M. D.
N: Ok, I'll take a Miller Lite then.
TH: (Grabs an M & J and hands it to N) There you go sir, enjoy.
N: Nanu, nanu.
TH: Word.
This happened at least four to five hundred more times today, sans the whole "Nanu, nanu." thing, that happened only once.
It gets better. I had the privildge of listening to some of the convo's these people were having, but none were better than the one I am about to describe to you. I'll spare you the actual dialogue this time. So, there was this woman talking to three nerds. I'm calling her a woman only because she was one of the 5 among the 1495 men that work in this particular department. There could have been more, I did mistake many pony-tail-rockin' dudes for chicks and vice-versa...still. Digression. Anyway, so this rather 'damaged' woman was drunkenly telling these nerds how to score, and they were hanging on her every word. Now, I have never claimed to be good with women, I'm no Casanova, but compared to these guys, I'm a regular Brad Pitt, or Eugene Levy, it's up to the eye of the beholder. So she was telling these guys "Oh, but you're cool!" and "You have a good personality!". Which even to me translates to "Pray to god that in your next life, your name is Leif. Because if it is, you have at the very least, 30% more of a chance of scoring with a female without paying." These guys were "Lovin'it" though, and I am sure it helped.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
wrong about costco
Over the weekend, between rock shows, reunions, and booze, I had some great conversations about lots and lots of retarded shit! Some of them were with my friend Stacia and at her behest I am going to write a post involving one of those convos. But why stop there? I've decided to make this week here at BAABP "Dork Week". Not only will you be treated to 5 (count'em!) posts this week and all of them will be so filled with dorkery that by the end you might find yourself saying things like "Spiderman didn't have organic web-shooters!" or "Band of Horses are just a rip-off of My Morning Jacket." So I am starting this glorious week off with something that happened to me all the way back in the fall of 2006. It's a story about where being an oblivious dork really can be pretty funny, and it's not about me.
I was sent to Costco this day due to the fact that a tire had asploded on the company truck while I was driving it to Spokanistan. It was just before Christmas so of course there was going to be a long wait, as there would be other people preparing to take the pass over the holidays. In other words; I was in it for the long haul. So, after dropping off the keys at the tire center I decided on a little jaunt around the massive warehouse. I always head straight to the "tech" section, where today I spent most of my time trying to crash the cheap ass computers and changing the desktop backgrounds to the Walmart logo. After about an hour of that (literally) I went back to the food hutch area, not because I was hungry, I had actually filled up on microwaved crab-cakes and triscuits with jalepeno artichoke cheese spread at some of the sample tables in between my computer hacking.
The weirdest thing for me about Costco is the aforementioned food hutch area. It's located at the end of your shopping journey and basically the only way you can get to it is after you've already paid for your 10 gallon jar of mayonnaise. When you go to Costco you don't just go there to spend fifty bucks, you go there to spend more like 200. My question is; why after spending a couple hundred dollars or more on various goods and sundry would you want to spend another 5 dollars on some crappy pizza or for that matter anymore time there? But the single weirdest thing for me is the seating. You are basically made to perch on what can only be described as poorly constructed indoor picnic tables, which for some reason have umbrellas over them. I don't claim to be any expert on indoor seating but I am pretty sure that you are well protected from the elements when you are inside. Digression.
I find a seat at one of the empty tables, whip out my cell phone and settle in for a good round of Uno. It doesn't take long for my table to become unempty as 4 of the remaining 6 seats are filled by a very young very Japanese family. I really didn't give them much thought other than to remark to myself at how cute their two kids were and that the father was writing a letter or something in Japanese. We sat quietly respecting each others space, until some dude in his early twenties came and sat across from me next to the Japanese wife, who was across from her Japanese husband. A minute or two passed as our new young guest noshed on a giant hot-dog. I could see him stealing quick glances at the Japanese husbands writings, until the dood said something I couldn't decipher, but could only guess was Japanese. The husband looked up smiled, and said something back to the dood, who also smiled and said "Sorry, I only know a little Japanese, I just recognized that Kanji character." To my utter horror and embarrassment the dood went on to start spitting extremely bad and simple Japanese to not only the husband but the wife, and children as well. These people new less English than that dood knew Japanese yet he kept trying to communicate with them, by acting like a big dumb American and pointing at various objects and saying their Japanese equivalent. This shit went on for 5 more unbearable minutes until the Japanese family spared the doods life by getting up and leaving but not before exchanging many bows and other pleasantries. I say "they" spared his life because I believe they could sense how humiliated I felt for him and the rest of American society, so much so that I was willing to take this man's life right in front of them just to preserve my honor.
I guess the worst part of this was how oblivious this dork was. I know a little, French, Spanish, and Chinese, but that doesn't mean I will walk up to anyone hailing from a nation that speaks one of those languages and just start spouting out phrasal verbs like some kind of retarded parrot. This guy couldn't have picked a better target though, for as we all know, the Japanese as a whole are eternally polite, so really he was just taking advantage of this fact, though again he was probably not aware of it.
So how does this all tie in to dork week? You mean aside from this doods obvious social faux-pas and why he is what gives nerds, geeks, and dorks a bad name everywhere? Here it is: It's every dorks dream to go and live in Japan, and I am not excluded. It's just that some of us know that Japan isn't only about anime, video games and ninjas.
It's also about Hentai. (Can you believe some nerd spent this much time writing that shit out?!)
P.S. My good friend Cal pointed me to an excellent site that he has been writing for, and I must say that his album review of Malajube's latest is not only one of the best reviews I've read in a long time, but also one of the most well written. Record reviews are not easy to write people, and Cal seems to have a knack for it.
I was sent to Costco this day due to the fact that a tire had asploded on the company truck while I was driving it to Spokanistan. It was just before Christmas so of course there was going to be a long wait, as there would be other people preparing to take the pass over the holidays. In other words; I was in it for the long haul. So, after dropping off the keys at the tire center I decided on a little jaunt around the massive warehouse. I always head straight to the "tech" section, where today I spent most of my time trying to crash the cheap ass computers and changing the desktop backgrounds to the Walmart logo. After about an hour of that (literally) I went back to the food hutch area, not because I was hungry, I had actually filled up on microwaved crab-cakes and triscuits with jalepeno artichoke cheese spread at some of the sample tables in between my computer hacking.
The weirdest thing for me about Costco is the aforementioned food hutch area. It's located at the end of your shopping journey and basically the only way you can get to it is after you've already paid for your 10 gallon jar of mayonnaise. When you go to Costco you don't just go there to spend fifty bucks, you go there to spend more like 200. My question is; why after spending a couple hundred dollars or more on various goods and sundry would you want to spend another 5 dollars on some crappy pizza or for that matter anymore time there? But the single weirdest thing for me is the seating. You are basically made to perch on what can only be described as poorly constructed indoor picnic tables, which for some reason have umbrellas over them. I don't claim to be any expert on indoor seating but I am pretty sure that you are well protected from the elements when you are inside. Digression.
I find a seat at one of the empty tables, whip out my cell phone and settle in for a good round of Uno. It doesn't take long for my table to become unempty as 4 of the remaining 6 seats are filled by a very young very Japanese family. I really didn't give them much thought other than to remark to myself at how cute their two kids were and that the father was writing a letter or something in Japanese. We sat quietly respecting each others space, until some dude in his early twenties came and sat across from me next to the Japanese wife, who was across from her Japanese husband. A minute or two passed as our new young guest noshed on a giant hot-dog. I could see him stealing quick glances at the Japanese husbands writings, until the dood said something I couldn't decipher, but could only guess was Japanese. The husband looked up smiled, and said something back to the dood, who also smiled and said "Sorry, I only know a little Japanese, I just recognized that Kanji character." To my utter horror and embarrassment the dood went on to start spitting extremely bad and simple Japanese to not only the husband but the wife, and children as well. These people new less English than that dood knew Japanese yet he kept trying to communicate with them, by acting like a big dumb American and pointing at various objects and saying their Japanese equivalent. This shit went on for 5 more unbearable minutes until the Japanese family spared the doods life by getting up and leaving but not before exchanging many bows and other pleasantries. I say "they" spared his life because I believe they could sense how humiliated I felt for him and the rest of American society, so much so that I was willing to take this man's life right in front of them just to preserve my honor.
I guess the worst part of this was how oblivious this dork was. I know a little, French, Spanish, and Chinese, but that doesn't mean I will walk up to anyone hailing from a nation that speaks one of those languages and just start spouting out phrasal verbs like some kind of retarded parrot. This guy couldn't have picked a better target though, for as we all know, the Japanese as a whole are eternally polite, so really he was just taking advantage of this fact, though again he was probably not aware of it.
So how does this all tie in to dork week? You mean aside from this doods obvious social faux-pas and why he is what gives nerds, geeks, and dorks a bad name everywhere? Here it is: It's every dorks dream to go and live in Japan, and I am not excluded. It's just that some of us know that Japan isn't only about anime, video games and ninjas.
It's also about Hentai. (Can you believe some nerd spent this much time writing that shit out?!)
P.S. My good friend Cal pointed me to an excellent site that he has been writing for, and I must say that his album review of Malajube's latest is not only one of the best reviews I've read in a long time, but also one of the most well written. Record reviews are not easy to write people, and Cal seems to have a knack for it.
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