The year is up and you know what that means internet? No it's not time for me to settle up with my ho's by slapping them, though my pimp hand has seen better days. It's time for a year end blarg! Read enough of those yet? You have? Well then you should just go outside before reading on because that's what this is all about. Like Bowie, my 2007 was full of a bunch of ch-ch-ch-changes, and instead of doing a typical year end post I've decided to do a top 10 list of the best things that happened to me this year. I tend to focus on the negative aspects of life both here on this digital sprawl and in the physical, so I've decided to give you something optimistic. David would want me to do it this way.
10: I saw Andrew Bird at the Showbox way back in May, and it was the best show I have ever been to. I had seen him before at Chopsuey but this one was awesome. I do regret hitting on my date though, but I think she forgave me.
9: I had a kick ass 25th birthday, and a blog to prove it.
8: Discovering Page France as one of my all time favorite bands, gets this spot easily.
7: You might think that losing your semi-cool job in the middle of year a low point, but it wasn't. Looking back I hated that job, and it's forced me to reconsider everything. So, losing my job as a high school sports/corporate videographer was fucking great and if I could go back to the day I was "let go" I would high five my bosses, kiss their wives, and steal a few more stacks of blank CD's before I left.
6: On a similar note, I got another job soon after, and I love it. Parking cars doesn't carry the prestige that being in Grad school does, but at least I get to go to shows and get hammered off my ass when I want to.
5: My trip to Tahoe with Dantron and Steve was fantastic. I can't wait for the next time I get a half gallon of cheap whiskey dumped on me.
4: The Internet. Thank you again for being there, you're my rock. Also possibly my roll.
3: Rediscovering the fun in arts'n'crafts. More on that soon.
2: Moving out of the "Looney Bin". Could have been number one but I want to say something special there.
1: VOLTRON! You guys are the best thing that happened to me this year, and probably in awhile. Thank you for letting me in to your home, thank you for being such good friends, and putting up with my weird self. Mr. Proper, congratulations on your new job, and thank you for all the cool shit you've shown me from music to hypothetical situations. TQoG, I realize that I am an asshole a lot of the time (especially to Assy-Face) but you are in my top 3 smartest people that I know, and I love to geek out on things with you. I couldn't have picked two better people to live with, let alone be friends with. Also, Ballard still kind of rocks.
Honorable Mentions:
The Neighbors (Marge & Nick Burns): You guys are way too cool to even be alive, it's crazy that you still are.
Sonicboom Records: Please give me free CD's for this endorsement.
Your Mom: For being hot as balls.
Inga, Alec, and Henry: You are a constant source of amusement, don't ever change.
Everyone have a happy New Year, to those of you I didn't hang out with that much in 2007, remember that '08 is the year of "New Beginnings". So now we can totally hang out!
Take it away Bowie!
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 6, 2007
you will never be as good as your brother. never
The shitty thing is, I have all of these jokes pre-written in my head but when it comes down to actually writing one of these things I forget half of them. So here is a joke that should have been in the last post. On the cover of that DVD one of the pull quotes read "Better than both the Matrix sequels combined!" and I thought to myself "That's not saying much because a single episode of According To Jim is better than those failed abortions of cinema." In your fucking face with a can of mace, Wachowski bros!
Mr. Proper and I went to a show last weekend at Neumo's, and like times past, hilarity ensued. We are planning another simul-blog about it but that takes a lot of coordination. So in lieu of that I have decided to hit you with a Baroque Blog instead, please to enjoy my dearest nets.
Galoshes, pretty girls are wearing them, and strangely enough I am still attracted to them. For the first time in my brief history as a women's fashion critic I am actually liking a new trend. No, this is not some sort of new fetishistic thing for me, though I do get a slight tingly sensation when I see women in Mary Janes. It rained here for like three days straight and in one day I saw about 10 different but equally attractive females wear galoshes. Functional and fashionable, keep up the good work ladies!
Nintendo continues to impress me. The Wii, while being graphically inferior to it's direct next gen rivals, is still selling like hot cakes, and next to impossible to find. But the real story is the Nintendo DS. This little dual-screened wonder has reawakened my love for videogames and reminds me of the days of yore, when I would sit for hours in my basement room playing Final Fantasy, Yoshi's Island, and Barbie Horse Adventure on my SNES. Though to be honest I was really let down by Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. The control scheme was a lot of the story was alright but the fact that I kept having to go back through the same fucking dungeon to do the same fucking puzzles was nauseating, and has subsequently kept me from finishing the game. Where as another game I bought, which actually isn't a game at all it's a guitar "simulator". Which turns my little hand-held into a working guitar. It's fun, and a great use of the hardware.
Speaking of music here is what is in heavy rotation on my iPod.
1: Scout Niblett- This Fool Can Die Now
2: Destroyer - Streethawk: A Seduction
3: The Cinematic Orchestra - Ma Fleur
4: Celebration - The Modern Tribe
5: Arthur & Yu - In Camera
I'm not going to take the time to hyperlink them shits internet, so you're on your own. Also, here is what I'm going to submit to KEXP for the Top 5 albums of 2007.
1: The New Pornographer - Challengers
2: Andrew Bird - Armchair Apochrypha
3: The Cave Singers - Invitation Songs
4: Datarock - Datarock Datarock
5: Shout Out Louds - Howl Howl Gaff Gaff
So Evel Knievel died last week. As with many boys born between the years 1965 and 1985 he was a hero, but I had forgotten about him over the years because...well...who gives a shit about someone jumping over some crap when you have the internet and it's staggering amount of free porn? Anyway, the reason why he was such a hero to me was because he attempted and failed to jump across the Snake River, which is a river that runs near my hometown, a place I have many fond memories of. Wikipedia kind of paints him as an evil *cough* bastard towards the end of his life and career, but the boy in me still thinks he's pretty cool. So here's to you Mr. Knievel, may you be forever jumping over those Grand Canyons in the sky.
Let's end this one on a high note.
Mr. Proper and I went to a show last weekend at Neumo's, and like times past, hilarity ensued. We are planning another simul-blog about it but that takes a lot of coordination. So in lieu of that I have decided to hit you with a Baroque Blog instead, please to enjoy my dearest nets.
Galoshes, pretty girls are wearing them, and strangely enough I am still attracted to them. For the first time in my brief history as a women's fashion critic I am actually liking a new trend. No, this is not some sort of new fetishistic thing for me, though I do get a slight tingly sensation when I see women in Mary Janes. It rained here for like three days straight and in one day I saw about 10 different but equally attractive females wear galoshes. Functional and fashionable, keep up the good work ladies!
Nintendo continues to impress me. The Wii, while being graphically inferior to it's direct next gen rivals, is still selling like hot cakes, and next to impossible to find. But the real story is the Nintendo DS. This little dual-screened wonder has reawakened my love for videogames and reminds me of the days of yore, when I would sit for hours in my basement room playing Final Fantasy, Yoshi's Island, and Barbie Horse Adventure on my SNES. Though to be honest I was really let down by Zelda: Phantom Hourglass. The control scheme was a lot of the story was alright but the fact that I kept having to go back through the same fucking dungeon to do the same fucking puzzles was nauseating, and has subsequently kept me from finishing the game. Where as another game I bought, which actually isn't a game at all it's a guitar "simulator". Which turns my little hand-held into a working guitar. It's fun, and a great use of the hardware.
Speaking of music here is what is in heavy rotation on my iPod.
1: Scout Niblett- This Fool Can Die Now
2: Destroyer - Streethawk: A Seduction
3: The Cinematic Orchestra - Ma Fleur
4: Celebration - The Modern Tribe
5: Arthur & Yu - In Camera
I'm not going to take the time to hyperlink them shits internet, so you're on your own. Also, here is what I'm going to submit to KEXP for the Top 5 albums of 2007.
1: The New Pornographer - Challengers
2: Andrew Bird - Armchair Apochrypha
3: The Cave Singers - Invitation Songs
4: Datarock - Datarock Datarock
5: Shout Out Louds - Howl Howl Gaff Gaff
So Evel Knievel died last week. As with many boys born between the years 1965 and 1985 he was a hero, but I had forgotten about him over the years because...well...who gives a shit about someone jumping over some crap when you have the internet and it's staggering amount of free porn? Anyway, the reason why he was such a hero to me was because he attempted and failed to jump across the Snake River, which is a river that runs near my hometown, a place I have many fond memories of. Wikipedia kind of paints him as an evil *cough* bastard towards the end of his life and career, but the boy in me still thinks he's pretty cool. So here's to you Mr. Knievel, may you be forever jumping over those Grand Canyons in the sky.
Let's end this one on a high note.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
damn, i wish i'd met her at peace time
Last Saturday after work I decided to stop by the video store to pick up a movie. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, nothing worth watching is out right now and anything that is probably sucks, I'm looking at you Transformers. I started with the new releases, but again found nothing, until this came in to view. Something about this cover told me I had to rent it. It looked like just another Japanese sci-fi action flick from the back, and I didn't really feel like thinking so I picked it up and brought it to the counter. Both of the helpful dorks at the counter told me that I'm "going to love it." and that they have been waiting "for over two months, for this to get here." Like I said, they were dorks. After I exchanged a few awkward high-fives with those dudes, I headed home, took Assy-face (Voltron's dog) out to pee, lit a few candles and fired up the Daewoo DVD player.
Holy shit.
5 minutes into it I realized what had drawn me to this movie. It was a live action re-make of an Anime OVA that I haven't seen in close to 15 years. Suddenly, I was that pimply face tween dork all over again, transported back to one of the most strange times in my life. A time between my oblivious carefree childhood, my adolescence and drawn out puberty. It was a time where I wanted to continue to be a boy, but forces beyond my control were driving me to become the man-boy I am today. I'd like to ask you to jump into my little time machine internet, as I whisk you away to the age of my own tragic innocence.
Imagine a boy, five feet tall (maybe), and 80 lbs soaking wet (definitely). He is probably the goofiest bipedal thing you can think of. Wildly curly hair, and eyebrows to big for his face. His teeth are crooked, and they will eventually take 3 years to correct. Clothing is not much of concern to him because he probably wears the same pair of jeans and the same shirt everyday, until his mother tears it from his body, and he must figure something else out. His chief concerns at the moment are cartoons, comics, video games, and Marvel cards. School, music, women, he cares for these not. He has a large group of friends but only a few of them share his true interests. This boy is me, age 12.
Like I said; Cashhern is actually a remake of an anime movie known here in the west as Casshan: Robot Hunter, and when I was 12 this was one of the first memorable experiences I had with anime. It's cannon is so ingrained in my memory that I still quote it from time to time. Cashhern was middling at best, and painfully overdone at worst. But that's not the point of this post, the point of this post is to show you a long dead version of myself, but a version who most inspired who and what I am today, and the person who I am closer to now than any of my other iterations.
It must have been the summer between 5th grade and middle school. It was a great summer indeed as I recall. There was the community pool in the day time, the BMX track, and the empty campus of the university that we ruled over for 3 months a year. Then, at night, there were the sleepovers. This is when the majority of the dorkery went on. We would play videogames into the early hours of the morning. "Magic: The Gathering" was slowly becoming the next D&D of my generation and we were on top of that as well, and of course there was the Sci-fi channel, which would show anime movies late at night. Casshan was just one amongst many.
This is still one of the happiest times of my life, and I look back on it fondly because of how innocent and foolish I was. "Cool" was just a word that you used to describe things that had meaning to you. However, when the summer ended and 6th grade began, "cool" took on a whole different meaning. Cool became something to be sought after, and being into videogames and other dork stuff, was so "un-cool" that you were made to be an outcast if you liked those things. Those things being anything that the cool kids didn't like. So, being the desperate loser that I was, I abandoned the things I truly loved, and started liking the things that everyone who was cool liked. This meant ridding myself of all the friends that were into the same shit as I was in to, something I regret everyday. In other words, I sold out. I still secretly loved all that geeky stuff but for years, I never admitted it openly to anyone, which tore me apart. Until we got the internet, and I found a lot of people just like myself, while playing text based games, but that is for another time.
Years later I would be vindicated. Somehow, during my time in high school, it became cool to be into video games, and this became a common bond amongst many people within my clique. Not only within my clique but also all over the U.S. It seemed as though almost overnight that people decided that it was OK to be into dorky stuff. The shitty thing is that I spent almost 5 years hiding my true self from people/friends who accept me now for what I am: An introverted, ego maniacal, dork face, who talks to the internet.
I miss how happy I was then, but at the same time, if I hadn't been put through the social ringer that I was put through, I probably wouldn't have grown in to the person I am now. Would I do it all over again, armed with the 25 years of knowledge I have now? Absolutely, but would it really make a difference? My 12 year old self and my 25 year old self are exactly the same. We are both comfortable with who we are and we aren't going to hold shit back. Though if I could give some advice to my 12 year old self now I would say:
"Listen here bro, you are going to be harrier than anything you can even imagine. Dad? That dude doesn't have shit on you, talk to Mom today, I'm sure there are some treatments ready for kids your age."
Holy shit.
5 minutes into it I realized what had drawn me to this movie. It was a live action re-make of an Anime OVA that I haven't seen in close to 15 years. Suddenly, I was that pimply face tween dork all over again, transported back to one of the most strange times in my life. A time between my oblivious carefree childhood, my adolescence and drawn out puberty. It was a time where I wanted to continue to be a boy, but forces beyond my control were driving me to become the man-boy I am today. I'd like to ask you to jump into my little time machine internet, as I whisk you away to the age of my own tragic innocence.
Imagine a boy, five feet tall (maybe), and 80 lbs soaking wet (definitely). He is probably the goofiest bipedal thing you can think of. Wildly curly hair, and eyebrows to big for his face. His teeth are crooked, and they will eventually take 3 years to correct. Clothing is not much of concern to him because he probably wears the same pair of jeans and the same shirt everyday, until his mother tears it from his body, and he must figure something else out. His chief concerns at the moment are cartoons, comics, video games, and Marvel cards. School, music, women, he cares for these not. He has a large group of friends but only a few of them share his true interests. This boy is me, age 12.
Like I said; Cashhern is actually a remake of an anime movie known here in the west as Casshan: Robot Hunter, and when I was 12 this was one of the first memorable experiences I had with anime. It's cannon is so ingrained in my memory that I still quote it from time to time. Cashhern was middling at best, and painfully overdone at worst. But that's not the point of this post, the point of this post is to show you a long dead version of myself, but a version who most inspired who and what I am today, and the person who I am closer to now than any of my other iterations.
It must have been the summer between 5th grade and middle school. It was a great summer indeed as I recall. There was the community pool in the day time, the BMX track, and the empty campus of the university that we ruled over for 3 months a year. Then, at night, there were the sleepovers. This is when the majority of the dorkery went on. We would play videogames into the early hours of the morning. "Magic: The Gathering" was slowly becoming the next D&D of my generation and we were on top of that as well, and of course there was the Sci-fi channel, which would show anime movies late at night. Casshan was just one amongst many.
This is still one of the happiest times of my life, and I look back on it fondly because of how innocent and foolish I was. "Cool" was just a word that you used to describe things that had meaning to you. However, when the summer ended and 6th grade began, "cool" took on a whole different meaning. Cool became something to be sought after, and being into videogames and other dork stuff, was so "un-cool" that you were made to be an outcast if you liked those things. Those things being anything that the cool kids didn't like. So, being the desperate loser that I was, I abandoned the things I truly loved, and started liking the things that everyone who was cool liked. This meant ridding myself of all the friends that were into the same shit as I was in to, something I regret everyday. In other words, I sold out. I still secretly loved all that geeky stuff but for years, I never admitted it openly to anyone, which tore me apart. Until we got the internet, and I found a lot of people just like myself, while playing text based games, but that is for another time.
Years later I would be vindicated. Somehow, during my time in high school, it became cool to be into video games, and this became a common bond amongst many people within my clique. Not only within my clique but also all over the U.S. It seemed as though almost overnight that people decided that it was OK to be into dorky stuff. The shitty thing is that I spent almost 5 years hiding my true self from people/friends who accept me now for what I am: An introverted, ego maniacal, dork face, who talks to the internet.
I miss how happy I was then, but at the same time, if I hadn't been put through the social ringer that I was put through, I probably wouldn't have grown in to the person I am now. Would I do it all over again, armed with the 25 years of knowledge I have now? Absolutely, but would it really make a difference? My 12 year old self and my 25 year old self are exactly the same. We are both comfortable with who we are and we aren't going to hold shit back. Though if I could give some advice to my 12 year old self now I would say:
"Listen here bro, you are going to be harrier than anything you can even imagine. Dad? That dude doesn't have shit on you, talk to Mom today, I'm sure there are some treatments ready for kids your age."
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
a pacific northwest bitch gets shown to her room
I wish I had come up with this joke a before I posted that last blog but, the title of that last one should have probably been "So I was talking with some ladies on the internet..."; and other ways to make people laugh unintentionally. That would have been hilarious. Onward!
So I think it's time to update a few of you on my current situation in life. No! I haven't beaten Final Fantasy XII yet, and I don't think it's ever going to happen so stop asking. About two months ago I was cut from my semi-lucrative, semi-professional career as a production manager for a small production house in Pioneer Square. I enjoyed a good, but tenuous run there, and when the company fell on hard times financially I was 'let go'. Do not weep for me though, I am still freelancing for them, and I couldn't be happier to have been let go. I was filming and editing high school sports for fuck's sake.
So now I'm a valet, for one of the few valeted hotels here in the city, and to be honest I am having a lot more fun than I have in almost two years. That isn't to say there aren't some downsides. For one, I hate driving. I fucking hate it. It's not that I am a bad driver, I am actually quite good, but it's the rest of the assholes who drive that make me hate it. However, over the last few weeks I have developed what can probably only be described as "stunt driving skillz". I'm working on being able to drive on just two wheels at the moment, but I'm starting to get tired of being tasered by the police every time I try and resist arrest. Then there is the tourist factor, and most of you know how much I hate tourists. Yet, I endure this hate, teeth clenched in a perpetual smile, and continue to fuel the myth about how it "is always raining here, gosh!" which is something you hear everyday here even if you don't work at a hotel.
Why I am having so much fun then? Aside from getting to 'stunt' some pretty sweet rides? For the tips my dear internet, its for the tips. Much like strippers I get tipped quite often in 1 dollar bills, but unlike strippers I get to drive the expensive cars they often perform fellatio in, so theres another plus, I don't have to give anybody head. In the 'high-end' hotel business people will give you money for doing very mundane and everyday things. For instance, about two weeks ago a nice gentleman who may or may not have been intoxicated gave me a 20 dollar bill for simply holding open the door of the cab he was entering. I long for the days when money means that little to me.
While tips are cool and everything, there is something that I find truly fascinating about driving other peoples cars. It's like walking into a complete strangers house for the first time, only it's scaled down considerably, and those most pertinent information about this individual is immediately available. Let's start with what kind of car they drive. People who drive Mercedes-Benz's are often lack taste, and bought the vehicle because they also lack imagination but have money to spend. These same people rarely (if ever) have music playing in their car, a true mark of a dilettante. BMW, Audi, and VW drivers appear to be a bit more grounded than the Benz people. Their cars tend to be a bit more dirty, and their musical tastes seem to range, though, I have yet to find one that doesn't listen to something that hasn't been on the Top 40 for over the last thirty years. Let's move on though, because I could talk about the musical habits of these people forever.
The smell of some of these cars...oh god the smells! I get into some of these cars and think to myself (between gag reflexes) "They actually drive around in this shitty funk all the time?" I was in a car two days ago that I had to roll all the windows down in, and they were manual windows. It smelled like the person had washed their dog with foot sweat and then locked that poor animal in the car, which was parked in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot in Phoenix AZ in July, and then waited for it to die, only to return and throw a bag full of sock eye salmon cut with the putrid stench of Ellensberg, WA right next to that dogs rotting corpse. In other words, it kind of smelled. Anyway, I pull up to the front of the hotel spring from the car dry heaving a little, and start rolling up the windows, all while covering my face with the sleeve of my jacket. The comes out, throws his new dog into the car, hits me with a five and speeds away. I only wish I could have said something to him, but he was Canadian. Which brings me to my final observation.
Canucks are the stingiest fucks on the planet. Europeans, who had never heard of tipping before coming to the U.S. tip better then our neighbors to the north. I shouldn't even call them neighbors, because a neighbor would tip. Their dollar is worth more than ours too! You wouldn't believe how many times I've been stiffed by one of those maple leaf worshiping mofo's. Do me a favor, next time you are in B.C. or Quebec or Saskatchewan, don't leave a tip, it will make up for everything in the grand scheme.
This job is the easiest wage earning position I have ever had, and I wish I had found it when I was 19. For the first time in my life I have no complaints about the job itself, which is a weird feeling, because when I come home and the Queen of Games asks me how my day went, all I can really say is "It went well." Strange. Perhaps I've grown a little wiser, or lost some of that ego I used to so proudly whip about. If anything, I am enjoying how uncomplicated my life is for the time being, and I am happy I've found a new thing to bitch about.
Fuck you, Canada.
So I think it's time to update a few of you on my current situation in life. No! I haven't beaten Final Fantasy XII yet, and I don't think it's ever going to happen so stop asking. About two months ago I was cut from my semi-lucrative, semi-professional career as a production manager for a small production house in Pioneer Square. I enjoyed a good, but tenuous run there, and when the company fell on hard times financially I was 'let go'. Do not weep for me though, I am still freelancing for them, and I couldn't be happier to have been let go. I was filming and editing high school sports for fuck's sake.
So now I'm a valet, for one of the few valeted hotels here in the city, and to be honest I am having a lot more fun than I have in almost two years. That isn't to say there aren't some downsides. For one, I hate driving. I fucking hate it. It's not that I am a bad driver, I am actually quite good, but it's the rest of the assholes who drive that make me hate it. However, over the last few weeks I have developed what can probably only be described as "stunt driving skillz". I'm working on being able to drive on just two wheels at the moment, but I'm starting to get tired of being tasered by the police every time I try and resist arrest. Then there is the tourist factor, and most of you know how much I hate tourists. Yet, I endure this hate, teeth clenched in a perpetual smile, and continue to fuel the myth about how it "is always raining here, gosh!" which is something you hear everyday here even if you don't work at a hotel.
Why I am having so much fun then? Aside from getting to 'stunt' some pretty sweet rides? For the tips my dear internet, its for the tips. Much like strippers I get tipped quite often in 1 dollar bills, but unlike strippers I get to drive the expensive cars they often perform fellatio in, so theres another plus, I don't have to give anybody head. In the 'high-end' hotel business people will give you money for doing very mundane and everyday things. For instance, about two weeks ago a nice gentleman who may or may not have been intoxicated gave me a 20 dollar bill for simply holding open the door of the cab he was entering. I long for the days when money means that little to me.
While tips are cool and everything, there is something that I find truly fascinating about driving other peoples cars. It's like walking into a complete strangers house for the first time, only it's scaled down considerably, and those most pertinent information about this individual is immediately available. Let's start with what kind of car they drive. People who drive Mercedes-Benz's are often lack taste, and bought the vehicle because they also lack imagination but have money to spend. These same people rarely (if ever) have music playing in their car, a true mark of a dilettante. BMW, Audi, and VW drivers appear to be a bit more grounded than the Benz people. Their cars tend to be a bit more dirty, and their musical tastes seem to range, though, I have yet to find one that doesn't listen to something that hasn't been on the Top 40 for over the last thirty years. Let's move on though, because I could talk about the musical habits of these people forever.
The smell of some of these cars...oh god the smells! I get into some of these cars and think to myself (between gag reflexes) "They actually drive around in this shitty funk all the time?" I was in a car two days ago that I had to roll all the windows down in, and they were manual windows. It smelled like the person had washed their dog with foot sweat and then locked that poor animal in the car, which was parked in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot in Phoenix AZ in July, and then waited for it to die, only to return and throw a bag full of sock eye salmon cut with the putrid stench of Ellensberg, WA right next to that dogs rotting corpse. In other words, it kind of smelled. Anyway, I pull up to the front of the hotel spring from the car dry heaving a little, and start rolling up the windows, all while covering my face with the sleeve of my jacket. The comes out, throws his new dog into the car, hits me with a five and speeds away. I only wish I could have said something to him, but he was Canadian. Which brings me to my final observation.
Canucks are the stingiest fucks on the planet. Europeans, who had never heard of tipping before coming to the U.S. tip better then our neighbors to the north. I shouldn't even call them neighbors, because a neighbor would tip. Their dollar is worth more than ours too! You wouldn't believe how many times I've been stiffed by one of those maple leaf worshiping mofo's. Do me a favor, next time you are in B.C. or Quebec or Saskatchewan, don't leave a tip, it will make up for everything in the grand scheme.
This job is the easiest wage earning position I have ever had, and I wish I had found it when I was 19. For the first time in my life I have no complaints about the job itself, which is a weird feeling, because when I come home and the Queen of Games asks me how my day went, all I can really say is "It went well." Strange. Perhaps I've grown a little wiser, or lost some of that ego I used to so proudly whip about. If anything, I am enjoying how uncomplicated my life is for the time being, and I am happy I've found a new thing to bitch about.
Fuck you, Canada.
Monday, November 5, 2007
whimsical sweaters
What started out as a joke ended up being one of the best weeks I've spent on the internet. About two weeks ago Koniferous, Steve, The Lobbyist, and I got into one of our normal daily email wars, where we send various links to on another, riffing on the state of union, net-neutrality, cats, fat people etc. etc. The thread became very heated after I sent a link to this website. Koniferous quickly replied by saying something along the lines of "I only understand about 1/3 of what you are say in these emails." Steve added "It's something that only internet dorks get." I shot back by saying that I will stop sending nonsense to them when I get a girlfriend, until then the madness will continue. Soon, The Lobbyist and Koniferous both chimed in saying that I would have to get in line behind the both of them on that front, due to the bi-lateral dryspells they seem to be going through. It did not take Steve very long to reply, and thats when my internet life changed.
Steve decided to heed our call for women, by trolling Craigslist personal ads in our respective cities. What was surprising is that he actually took the time to find each of us three separate women that we might be interested in, instead of doing something hilarious like sending us tranny personals or something of that sort. Anyway, after I received my three prospects I decided to take Steve's challenge and roll with it. Here is the email I sent to the first one, she had a questionaire, which I actually found kind of clever in a dumb way.
1. Yes or no: technology should have stopped at the gear.
This is a strange question. One, because where else can it go besides the gear? Are you talking about the software or firmware for said gear? If we didn't have those things then the 'gear' would be completely useless. Secondly, no.
2. What would you do if you ruled the world?
Re-vive the electric car, build a mono-rail out to Ballard that connects to downtown, and get rid of all those damned zombies.
3. What do you think of ayn rand is hot?
Another strange question. I am assuming what you meant to say here was "Do you think Ayn Rand is hot?" or maybe it's rhetorical like, "What do you think of Ayn Rand's hotness?" To which I can only reply, not really, but that's only because I never knew her personally, and I've never read anything that she's written, also because I find people who quote Rand are often pretentious jerks. Sorry, if you are into her, it's just never been my bag.
4. do you like big brown eyes?
Being of that persuasion myself, it's hard not to like them. But I suppose if they are too big, like say, the size of tea-saucers I'd be a little freaked out.
5. do you like going to art walk just to get drunk off free wine?
Actually, that's just a bonus. What I don't like about Art Walk are all of the tourists and hipstery kids hanging about.
6. Are you devilously handsome, cocky, egotistical, brooding but have a heart
a heart of gold?
I am violently handsome, modest, quiet, and introspective with a keen sense of loyalty.
7. Are you metrosexual or androgynous?
Well, I take a shower everyday and keep my nails cut which I hear is something those metrosexuals do. I wear clothes that fit me, but show off my rather skinny frame. So are you talking androgynous like Bowie or "It's Pat" from SNL? I also have a short beard which might exclude me from the androgyny category.
8. do you have any brothers or sisters?
I have an older sister, Inga, who is 29 years old, and two younger brothers, Alec and Henry, who are 23 and 17 respectively.
9. do you know what you want and usually get it?
I usually do what I want and get what I want about 50% of the time. Such is life.
10. ( and just for fun) fill in the blanks
Strippers______when_______moon________gin__________in your dreams
breakdance, the waxing, distills, while
I really hope that was satisfactory, and also hope to hear from you soon.
So that kind of kicked things off, and got me to thinking. Why don't I go out and find more of these personals? It's like a whole new game, right? Eventually I decided I would go to Craigslist and find the most interesting/weird ads and reply to them. Partly because it was so damn fun answering some of the ads in bazaar or satirical ways, but mostly it was out of my own morbid curiosity. In the end, after replying to about ten or so I only got three replies back. It probably didn't help that when I would send these women emails, they were as snarky (if not more) than the above. I decided I would have to kick this one up a notch.
I would have to post my own personal, and I did.
It was equal parts love lorn mid-twenties dude, and clever bastard, thanks to Chuck Klosterman. You see, I used one of Klosterman's 23 questions in it, and that was basically what inspired literally twenty different women to email over the following week. Now, I didn't admit right off the bat that I had aped one of his questions, but I was sure that someone would almost immediately call me out, but out of the twenty or so women who emailed me only one saw through my bullshit, and called me out.
After answering the question, most of the ladies would tell me a little about themselves. What kind of music they listen to, where they work, standard boilerplate stuff. Some, unprompted, would send me pictures. Let's get something straight, I NEVER asked for pictures, nor would I ask for pictures. It just seems kind of creepy, and really you never know what you are going to get. I got two pictures from two seperate women that made me want to end this experiment, these were perfect examples why these nets can be kind of scary. There are weird people on them. I won't go into too much detail, let's just say that there was some exposed skin involved, lots of exposed skin.
The best part of this whole thing was how much I learned. We spend so much time emailing and chatting with friends and family, you forget that there are millions of anonymous strangers seeking connection. I finally found the answer to a question that's been bothering me for years; How do people find 'love' on the internet? Not that I fell in love with any of these people I was chatting with but the majority of the responses and the ensuing threads that came after were intriguing to say the least, I would probably want to hang out with them if it wasn't some sort of weird 1 on 1 internet blind date type of situation. I was propositioned several times for meet-ups but decided not to, because of my own hang ups. I like the idea of this new type of 'social revolution' but I prefer the old fashioned way of meeting people. Drunk, and through friends.
The experiment ended almost as quickly as it had begun. I had narrowed it down to three different girls, all of which suddenly lost interest in the whole thing about two days ago simultaneously. What happened? I'm not sure, maybe they discovered this blarge (like one industrious minx did) or maybe they grew tired of my ego maniacal rants. Who knows, the point is, it was worth it and I plan on taking the same strategy to a different website/medium very soon. I kind of enjoyed being fawned over by women. It was just like that brief period in my life when I was 22....
By the way, if have any faith in my powers to select music then take heed. The new Jens Lekmen album, "Night Falls Over Kortedala" is the absolute note! Buy it now, and give me a huge high five later.
Steve decided to heed our call for women, by trolling Craigslist personal ads in our respective cities. What was surprising is that he actually took the time to find each of us three separate women that we might be interested in, instead of doing something hilarious like sending us tranny personals or something of that sort. Anyway, after I received my three prospects I decided to take Steve's challenge and roll with it. Here is the email I sent to the first one, she had a questionaire, which I actually found kind of clever in a dumb way.
1. Yes or no: technology should have stopped at the gear.
This is a strange question. One, because where else can it go besides the gear? Are you talking about the software or firmware for said gear? If we didn't have those things then the 'gear' would be completely useless. Secondly, no.
2. What would you do if you ruled the world?
Re-vive the electric car, build a mono-rail out to Ballard that connects to downtown, and get rid of all those damned zombies.
3. What do you think of ayn rand is hot?
Another strange question. I am assuming what you meant to say here was "Do you think Ayn Rand is hot?" or maybe it's rhetorical like, "What do you think of Ayn Rand's hotness?" To which I can only reply, not really, but that's only because I never knew her personally, and I've never read anything that she's written, also because I find people who quote Rand are often pretentious jerks. Sorry, if you are into her, it's just never been my bag.
4. do you like big brown eyes?
Being of that persuasion myself, it's hard not to like them. But I suppose if they are too big, like say, the size of tea-saucers I'd be a little freaked out.
5. do you like going to art walk just to get drunk off free wine?
Actually, that's just a bonus. What I don't like about Art Walk are all of the tourists and hipstery kids hanging about.
6. Are you devilously handsome, cocky, egotistical, brooding but have a heart
a heart of gold?
I am violently handsome, modest, quiet, and introspective with a keen sense of loyalty.
7. Are you metrosexual or androgynous?
Well, I take a shower everyday and keep my nails cut which I hear is something those metrosexuals do. I wear clothes that fit me, but show off my rather skinny frame. So are you talking androgynous like Bowie or "It's Pat" from SNL? I also have a short beard which might exclude me from the androgyny category.
8. do you have any brothers or sisters?
I have an older sister, Inga, who is 29 years old, and two younger brothers, Alec and Henry, who are 23 and 17 respectively.
9. do you know what you want and usually get it?
I usually do what I want and get what I want about 50% of the time. Such is life.
10. ( and just for fun) fill in the blanks
Strippers______when_______moon________gin__________in your dreams
breakdance, the waxing, distills, while
I really hope that was satisfactory, and also hope to hear from you soon.
So that kind of kicked things off, and got me to thinking. Why don't I go out and find more of these personals? It's like a whole new game, right? Eventually I decided I would go to Craigslist and find the most interesting/weird ads and reply to them. Partly because it was so damn fun answering some of the ads in bazaar or satirical ways, but mostly it was out of my own morbid curiosity. In the end, after replying to about ten or so I only got three replies back. It probably didn't help that when I would send these women emails, they were as snarky (if not more) than the above. I decided I would have to kick this one up a notch.
I would have to post my own personal, and I did.
It was equal parts love lorn mid-twenties dude, and clever bastard, thanks to Chuck Klosterman. You see, I used one of Klosterman's 23 questions in it, and that was basically what inspired literally twenty different women to email over the following week. Now, I didn't admit right off the bat that I had aped one of his questions, but I was sure that someone would almost immediately call me out, but out of the twenty or so women who emailed me only one saw through my bullshit, and called me out.
After answering the question, most of the ladies would tell me a little about themselves. What kind of music they listen to, where they work, standard boilerplate stuff. Some, unprompted, would send me pictures. Let's get something straight, I NEVER asked for pictures, nor would I ask for pictures. It just seems kind of creepy, and really you never know what you are going to get. I got two pictures from two seperate women that made me want to end this experiment, these were perfect examples why these nets can be kind of scary. There are weird people on them. I won't go into too much detail, let's just say that there was some exposed skin involved, lots of exposed skin.
The best part of this whole thing was how much I learned. We spend so much time emailing and chatting with friends and family, you forget that there are millions of anonymous strangers seeking connection. I finally found the answer to a question that's been bothering me for years; How do people find 'love' on the internet? Not that I fell in love with any of these people I was chatting with but the majority of the responses and the ensuing threads that came after were intriguing to say the least, I would probably want to hang out with them if it wasn't some sort of weird 1 on 1 internet blind date type of situation. I was propositioned several times for meet-ups but decided not to, because of my own hang ups. I like the idea of this new type of 'social revolution' but I prefer the old fashioned way of meeting people. Drunk, and through friends.
The experiment ended almost as quickly as it had begun. I had narrowed it down to three different girls, all of which suddenly lost interest in the whole thing about two days ago simultaneously. What happened? I'm not sure, maybe they discovered this blarge (like one industrious minx did) or maybe they grew tired of my ego maniacal rants. Who knows, the point is, it was worth it and I plan on taking the same strategy to a different website/medium very soon. I kind of enjoyed being fawned over by women. It was just like that brief period in my life when I was 22....
By the way, if have any faith in my powers to select music then take heed. The new Jens Lekmen album, "Night Falls Over Kortedala" is the absolute note! Buy it now, and give me a huge high five later.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
i need an editor
I like to think that over the last six years of living here in Seattle, I've developed some sense of personal style. I wear clothes that fit my skinny frame (e.g. "men's small") not to look trendy but to look good. Let's face it, people judge you first by your looks and then if those can keep their attention long enough, by your personality. Sad but true, we are visceral beings by nature, and the first train out of the 'sense station' is the ocular one. We make snap judgments of people based on their appearance and then extrapolate from there on what that person must be about without ever talking to them. I'm told we do this with everyone we see and meet in less than 7 seconds, which a long time ago seemed impossible to me, until I started doing it consciously. In other words; recognizing the fact that I was sizing someone up by what they look like. Which brings me to my pink shirt.
OK, so it's not really pink, but many would categorize it as 'pink'. I like to think of it more as a reddish-white. American Apparel describes the color as "coral", which I think is close but unfortunately I did not get the shirt at American Apparel, I got it at Urban Outfitters. That's right I shop there, I have a dick and you can eat it. They sell some of the best cotton tee's I have ever worn, in a variety of semi-unusual colors, I like to pick up a couple whenever I am in the store. Defensive maneuvering aside, I decided to get the t-shirt in question. When I grabbed it I didn't twice, it was a color that was appealing to my eye, but I should have noticed the first red flag. My Mom, who graciously bought me the shirt along with what I am sure my friends will eventually deem as a "hipster hat", said "So, I'm buying you this hat, and this pink t-shirt?" To which I replied "Actually, you are buying me this cool hat, and also this these t-shirts. Oh, I guess this one is kinda pink, huh? I didn't notice." Seriously, I said that, and I let my Mom buy clothes for me, please see previous line about said dick.
It is not weird to see some heterosexual male strolling down a public street here in Sea-teezy (that's how us Seattlite's refer to Seattle) wearing a pink t-shirt, which may or may not have a screen print of a giant cock on it in purple. Why? Maybe because it's ironic (the penis part, not the pink part, or maybe the pink part too) or perhaps it's because pink is just a fucking color. Yet, the minute you leave the city for somewhere like, I don't know, Renton, you are instantly berated by bucktoothed teenagers, who think that Panic! At the Disco kept them from committing suicide. Well I have news for you teenagers: The color pink is cool, P!ATD is not, and soon your going to realize this and you will probably find yourselves (again!) with one of your dad's ties around your neck attached to the door knob of your bedroom very soon, maybe even after you read this post.
RANTY!
That last part was in reference to what happened tonight while filming a Sounders game. There I was, running some cable before the game kicked off, when I hear from the stands "Only real men wear pink!" Classic. I ignored the comment like a cool dude would, but about an hour later during half-time I was confronted by three teenagers who were at first trying to get on "TV" after not acknowledging them for about 3 minutes one of them piped up "I like your shirt, you look like a girl!" Burn. While I could have picked that statement apart by saying something like "Wow! Your idea of what a girl looks like must be very strange. Are you attracted to women with flat chests and facial hair? Because if you are, you are in for a world of hurt, there aren't many of us out there." Instead I turned to the youth and said "Well, at least I don't sound like a girl." Which is what I actually said, to which he said while on the verge of tears and running away as his friends laughed at him "Panic! At the Disco will make me feel better!" No they won't son, no they won't. That tie you got your dad for Christmas last year is looking pretty good right now, huh?
All puberty and horrible, horrible teenage suicide jokes aside though. I find it funny that when I leave this city I become an entity in style, both negative and positive. While here (within the city) I find that I look like every other male on the street. Skinny, bearded, hooded, and possibly hungover. To be honest, if I could I would dress like a completely insane person, much like my father does now. I would go for a more indy-rock kinda of look and not the hipster-lite that I seem to be in now. I'd wear even tighter pants with wing-tip shoes, huge collared shirts from the seventies. My hair would be cut into one of those mullets that all of the European soccer players seem to be rocking. Wacky scarves would be the main thing I was known for, and I would have a nickname among the rest of the hipsters. Something like; Endangered or Roflmao.
In the end it all goes back to a conversation I was having with Mr. Proper the other day about dress. I was telling him about how I never want to go back to wearing a uniform of any kind, that includes wearing slacks and a nice shirt. When he asked 'why?'
"I am going to ride this 20 something thing, til' it crashes." I'm pretty sure I said that.
OK, so it's not really pink, but many would categorize it as 'pink'. I like to think of it more as a reddish-white. American Apparel describes the color as "coral", which I think is close but unfortunately I did not get the shirt at American Apparel, I got it at Urban Outfitters. That's right I shop there, I have a dick and you can eat it. They sell some of the best cotton tee's I have ever worn, in a variety of semi-unusual colors, I like to pick up a couple whenever I am in the store. Defensive maneuvering aside, I decided to get the t-shirt in question. When I grabbed it I didn't twice, it was a color that was appealing to my eye, but I should have noticed the first red flag. My Mom, who graciously bought me the shirt along with what I am sure my friends will eventually deem as a "hipster hat", said "So, I'm buying you this hat, and this pink t-shirt?" To which I replied "Actually, you are buying me this cool hat, and also this these t-shirts. Oh, I guess this one is kinda pink, huh? I didn't notice." Seriously, I said that, and I let my Mom buy clothes for me, please see previous line about said dick.
It is not weird to see some heterosexual male strolling down a public street here in Sea-teezy (that's how us Seattlite's refer to Seattle) wearing a pink t-shirt, which may or may not have a screen print of a giant cock on it in purple. Why? Maybe because it's ironic (the penis part, not the pink part, or maybe the pink part too) or perhaps it's because pink is just a fucking color. Yet, the minute you leave the city for somewhere like, I don't know, Renton, you are instantly berated by bucktoothed teenagers, who think that Panic! At the Disco kept them from committing suicide. Well I have news for you teenagers: The color pink is cool, P!ATD is not, and soon your going to realize this and you will probably find yourselves (again!) with one of your dad's ties around your neck attached to the door knob of your bedroom very soon, maybe even after you read this post.
RANTY!
That last part was in reference to what happened tonight while filming a Sounders game. There I was, running some cable before the game kicked off, when I hear from the stands "Only real men wear pink!" Classic. I ignored the comment like a cool dude would, but about an hour later during half-time I was confronted by three teenagers who were at first trying to get on "TV" after not acknowledging them for about 3 minutes one of them piped up "I like your shirt, you look like a girl!" Burn. While I could have picked that statement apart by saying something like "Wow! Your idea of what a girl looks like must be very strange. Are you attracted to women with flat chests and facial hair? Because if you are, you are in for a world of hurt, there aren't many of us out there." Instead I turned to the youth and said "Well, at least I don't sound like a girl." Which is what I actually said, to which he said while on the verge of tears and running away as his friends laughed at him "Panic! At the Disco will make me feel better!" No they won't son, no they won't. That tie you got your dad for Christmas last year is looking pretty good right now, huh?
All puberty and horrible, horrible teenage suicide jokes aside though. I find it funny that when I leave this city I become an entity in style, both negative and positive. While here (within the city) I find that I look like every other male on the street. Skinny, bearded, hooded, and possibly hungover. To be honest, if I could I would dress like a completely insane person, much like my father does now. I would go for a more indy-rock kinda of look and not the hipster-lite that I seem to be in now. I'd wear even tighter pants with wing-tip shoes, huge collared shirts from the seventies. My hair would be cut into one of those mullets that all of the European soccer players seem to be rocking. Wacky scarves would be the main thing I was known for, and I would have a nickname among the rest of the hipsters. Something like; Endangered or Roflmao.
In the end it all goes back to a conversation I was having with Mr. Proper the other day about dress. I was telling him about how I never want to go back to wearing a uniform of any kind, that includes wearing slacks and a nice shirt. When he asked 'why?'
"I am going to ride this 20 something thing, til' it crashes." I'm pretty sure I said that.
Monday, August 20, 2007
wanderlust pt. 1
Internets! Holy crap, I missed you so much! Sorry, I've been on vacation. What been going on? They gave up the search for those miners?! Get out. Lindsey's still in rehab? Wow, I mean wow. Mit Romney for President? Yeah, I could see that happening. Me? Well, I was in New York for a few days, and then I went on a cruise. To where? Bermuda of course, where else would I go? How was it you ask? Ummmm.....let me start with New York.
New York was intoxicating. Definitely the biggest city I've ever been in. Shen Zhen was huge and different, Barcelona as well although it was not much bigger than Seattle. But New York! I mean, I've seen it in movies, TV, and pictures, but to actually be there was something else. It was not at all like I had imagined it. It was something different, exciting, gritty. Full of assholes, just like me, and the hipsters! Oh sweet crunkington, the fuckn' hipsters! They put those kids at Linda's to shame. The sweet confusion that I felt while wandering was something that I haven't felt in a long time. Granted, I spent a lot of my time in tourist areas, and only got but a small taste of what the city must really be like. I went to Broadway; where I saw the awesome Avenue Q, and 'Little Italy' where I spent my time getting ripped off by eastern Europeans, claiming to be Romans or Chinese. Soho, where my brother and I were treated like complete outsiders at a restaurant and ultimately ignored. We went to the Museum of Modern Art, which was fantastic, and my sister and I went to the American Museum of Natural History, or whatever and solely to see the exhibit shown in the last scene of "The Squid and the Whale". The rest of that museum turned about to be really cool.
In the end, New York was a place I eventually could find myself living in and also a place I want to avoid. In other words; just like Seattle you must find the places that you are most comfortable with and stay there until you are comfortable, then you can move on.
So that portion of my "vacation" ended after 4 short stressful days and we found ourselves meeting up with the other 13 members of my extended family for a 7 day cruise to the isle's of Bermuda. To all of my twenty-something readers/friends heed my advice. DO NOT GO ON A CRUISE IF YOU CAN FLY TO YOUR DESTINATION. Flying is cheaper, faster, and for the most part, you don't have to worry about getting giardia. Which 40 people on my ship contracted, consequently turning the ships staff into a bunch of "hygiene Nazi's". More on that later.
The vessel we were on was called the Norwegian Crown, and was constructed sometime in the late 1980's, and holy shit if it's interior didn't reflect the 80's coke induced aesthetics. Gold and mirrors everywhere, I hate referencing this piece of shit movie but it will give you an idea of what it was like. Imagine Tony Montana's mansion in "Scarface" and you have a pretty good picture. The music that they played everywhere didn't help dispel the eightysness of it all either. It was like the top 40 from '85-'93, but not the real top 40, but some bizarro world top 40 where all the good hits from that decade were replaced by the "Electric Slide" and "Macarena". I shit you not, I heard those two songs several times during our fantastic voyage. I could tell you so much about the food, which was "free"(for a reason) and the on-board entertainment which was also free, but I wish we could have paid for them not to be on the ship, because I would have given up a year's worth of my salary to get back the hour of my life that Adam Ace, the Crazy Comedian, embarrassingly wasted. I could devote an entire post to that poor bastard and his "act" alone. But I won't, because the best part about this cruise were all the people on it, oh and the pink sandy beaches of Bermuda. Totally beautiful, when I marry a rich woman that's where we are going to have our summer home, right next to Catherine Zeta Jones and that old dude she's married to, his name escapes me at the moment though ummm....Catcher's Mitt perhaps? Seriously though, how the fuck did that guy do it?
I have spent years making fun of people with mid-western and southern accents for years. It hasn't just been me though, but our country as whole, where in fact we should be jibing on people from the north east! Comparably, the people in the mid-west have nothing on people from Staten island. From now on when people I hear use the phrase "the dregs of society" I will think of people who were born and raised in New Jersey. The majority of the people on this cruise were from Staten island, Long island, and Newark. It took awhile for me to get over their accents but once I had done that, I was absolutely dumb-founded by their lack of imagination and wit. I realize that sounds very elitist of me, and it is, but these were some of the most tacky and clueless people I have ever had the displeasure of being around. I realized early on that there was no escape, and accepted my fate, thereby allowing me some very good people watching time, I combined this time with many brief conversations that I had with people on my ship and came to these conclusions:
Average Cruising Age: 14-19 and 40-75
Average Weight: Fat
Average idea of a 'good' vacation: Cruise
Average choice of an 'imported' beer: Bud-Light
Average clothing choice even when indoors at public eating areas: back hair or tracksuit
I spoke with one enlightened woman of about 70, who said that this was her 7th(!) cruise, and that every time she finished one she swore she would never do it again. When I asked her why she had embarked on yet another one of these horrible things she said "In the end it makes me happy to see all of these young people have such a good time." Indeed, there were a lot of young people having a good time on this cruise. To be more precise, there was probably a larger teen aged contingent than any other age group aboard, and yes they were definitely having fun. Before entering my room one night I saw a small group huddling around a Nalgene bottle conversing. I paused at my door for a moment, and this is what I overheard:
Teen 1: How much did you put in there?
Teen 2: Well, I filled half with Coke and the other half with vodka!
Teen 3: That's 50%! Skelkin!
Creepy Skinny Guy Fumbling With Key To Lock: Pussies...what the fuck does 'skelkin' mean anyway? What the eff happened to 'rad'?
Teen 1,2,and 3: Get jam-howed, you fram-prizk!
CSGFWKTL: Word.
...and then all hell broke loose, and I started punching teenagers in their acne covered faces. Wacky. No, that really didn't happen, but you can find out what happened next week in part two. I am making this a two parter because this has turned into a really long post and my internets are getting weak. So tune into my final point and analysis. Thanks for reading.
Who loves you?
New York was intoxicating. Definitely the biggest city I've ever been in. Shen Zhen was huge and different, Barcelona as well although it was not much bigger than Seattle. But New York! I mean, I've seen it in movies, TV, and pictures, but to actually be there was something else. It was not at all like I had imagined it. It was something different, exciting, gritty. Full of assholes, just like me, and the hipsters! Oh sweet crunkington, the fuckn' hipsters! They put those kids at Linda's to shame. The sweet confusion that I felt while wandering was something that I haven't felt in a long time. Granted, I spent a lot of my time in tourist areas, and only got but a small taste of what the city must really be like. I went to Broadway; where I saw the awesome Avenue Q, and 'Little Italy' where I spent my time getting ripped off by eastern Europeans, claiming to be Romans or Chinese. Soho, where my brother and I were treated like complete outsiders at a restaurant and ultimately ignored. We went to the Museum of Modern Art, which was fantastic, and my sister and I went to the American Museum of Natural History, or whatever and solely to see the exhibit shown in the last scene of "The Squid and the Whale". The rest of that museum turned about to be really cool.
In the end, New York was a place I eventually could find myself living in and also a place I want to avoid. In other words; just like Seattle you must find the places that you are most comfortable with and stay there until you are comfortable, then you can move on.
So that portion of my "vacation" ended after 4 short stressful days and we found ourselves meeting up with the other 13 members of my extended family for a 7 day cruise to the isle's of Bermuda. To all of my twenty-something readers/friends heed my advice. DO NOT GO ON A CRUISE IF YOU CAN FLY TO YOUR DESTINATION. Flying is cheaper, faster, and for the most part, you don't have to worry about getting giardia. Which 40 people on my ship contracted, consequently turning the ships staff into a bunch of "hygiene Nazi's". More on that later.
The vessel we were on was called the Norwegian Crown, and was constructed sometime in the late 1980's, and holy shit if it's interior didn't reflect the 80's coke induced aesthetics. Gold and mirrors everywhere, I hate referencing this piece of shit movie but it will give you an idea of what it was like. Imagine Tony Montana's mansion in "Scarface" and you have a pretty good picture. The music that they played everywhere didn't help dispel the eightysness of it all either. It was like the top 40 from '85-'93, but not the real top 40, but some bizarro world top 40 where all the good hits from that decade were replaced by the "Electric Slide" and "Macarena". I shit you not, I heard those two songs several times during our fantastic voyage. I could tell you so much about the food, which was "free"(for a reason) and the on-board entertainment which was also free, but I wish we could have paid for them not to be on the ship, because I would have given up a year's worth of my salary to get back the hour of my life that Adam Ace, the Crazy Comedian, embarrassingly wasted. I could devote an entire post to that poor bastard and his "act" alone. But I won't, because the best part about this cruise were all the people on it, oh and the pink sandy beaches of Bermuda. Totally beautiful, when I marry a rich woman that's where we are going to have our summer home, right next to Catherine Zeta Jones and that old dude she's married to, his name escapes me at the moment though ummm....Catcher's Mitt perhaps? Seriously though, how the fuck did that guy do it?
I have spent years making fun of people with mid-western and southern accents for years. It hasn't just been me though, but our country as whole, where in fact we should be jibing on people from the north east! Comparably, the people in the mid-west have nothing on people from Staten island. From now on when people I hear use the phrase "the dregs of society" I will think of people who were born and raised in New Jersey. The majority of the people on this cruise were from Staten island, Long island, and Newark. It took awhile for me to get over their accents but once I had done that, I was absolutely dumb-founded by their lack of imagination and wit. I realize that sounds very elitist of me, and it is, but these were some of the most tacky and clueless people I have ever had the displeasure of being around. I realized early on that there was no escape, and accepted my fate, thereby allowing me some very good people watching time, I combined this time with many brief conversations that I had with people on my ship and came to these conclusions:
Average Cruising Age: 14-19 and 40-75
Average Weight: Fat
Average idea of a 'good' vacation: Cruise
Average choice of an 'imported' beer: Bud-Light
Average clothing choice even when indoors at public eating areas: back hair or tracksuit
I spoke with one enlightened woman of about 70, who said that this was her 7th(!) cruise, and that every time she finished one she swore she would never do it again. When I asked her why she had embarked on yet another one of these horrible things she said "In the end it makes me happy to see all of these young people have such a good time." Indeed, there were a lot of young people having a good time on this cruise. To be more precise, there was probably a larger teen aged contingent than any other age group aboard, and yes they were definitely having fun. Before entering my room one night I saw a small group huddling around a Nalgene bottle conversing. I paused at my door for a moment, and this is what I overheard:
Teen 1: How much did you put in there?
Teen 2: Well, I filled half with Coke and the other half with vodka!
Teen 3: That's 50%! Skelkin!
Creepy Skinny Guy Fumbling With Key To Lock: Pussies...what the fuck does 'skelkin' mean anyway? What the eff happened to 'rad'?
Teen 1,2,and 3: Get jam-howed, you fram-prizk!
CSGFWKTL: Word.
...and then all hell broke loose, and I started punching teenagers in their acne covered faces. Wacky. No, that really didn't happen, but you can find out what happened next week in part two. I am making this a two parter because this has turned into a really long post and my internets are getting weak. So tune into my final point and analysis. Thanks for reading.
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