Good: Coming home after 10 days away, landing in LA at 11pm, cabbing it to my apartment, excited to go to sleep immediately.
Bad: Realizing that I gave my roommate my keys so he could move my car, assuming that even though this roommate was going out of town, the other roommate would be there upon my return. As it turns out, neither one was in town-- I was locked out.
Good: Deciding to call some friends in hope that someone would be awake to put me up for the night.
Bad: Remembering that my phone was out of batteries because I played iPhone Scrabble the whole plane ride.
Good: Deciding I would go to a nearby bar and use their outlet to charge my phone.
Bad: Realizing I left my charger on the East Coast.
Good: Going to the bar and asking them if I could use their phone.
Bad: Realizing I didn't know anyone's phone number except two friends who were both out of town.
Good: Deciding to drive to a hotel for the night.
Bad: Remembering that my car key is also on my key chain.
Good: Scanning my apartment, noticing a window I could potentially climb through.
Bad: Looking down and realizing that if I slipped while doing so I'd fall 30 feet to my paralysis and/or death, and deciding that wasn't that rad a risk to take.
Good: Realizing that I could use my laptop and get an internet signal from inside the apartment.
Bad: Emailing people but getting no responses yet because it's 12:45am.
Still Bad: Currently sitting at my apartment, on the steps, out of ideas, checking baseball scores.
Good: The weather is nice.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Friday, July 03, 2009
19 Things I Don't Understand, Volume 4
For the second year in a row, I’ve joined my family on a little summer vacation in Cape Cod. And for the second year in a row, I somehow have found myself being the one making the three-hour drive from Boston with my grandparents in the car.
There really is nothing like taking two people in their mid-to-late 80’s on a three-hour drive.
Here is a sample interaction:
Grandfather: For Christ sake, Timothy, how far is this place?
Me: It’s in Truro. We have a long way to go.
Grandfather: We’ve been driving for four hours!
Me: We’ve been driving for 35 minutes. We’re about a fifth of the way there.
Grandfather: How could we not be there already? We’ve driven across the whole state!
[5 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: I don’t see any signs for Truro. Are you sure you’re on the right road?
Me: Yes. We’re on the right road. I have the directions here.
[I show him my iPhone]
Grandfather: What’s that, your radio?
Me: Yes. It’s my radio.
Grandfather: Well I haven’t seen any signs for Truro. Call your father and ask him if we’re on the right road.
Me: No, I’m actually not gonna do that. I have the directions right here.
Grandfather: Enough with your damn radio! Put your hands on the wheel.
[I put my iPhone down]
Grandfather: Both hands! Put both hands on the wheel!
[Now driving with my hands at 2 and 10 o’clock]
Grandmother: Timothy, slow down, it’s teeming buckets.
Me: It’s not raining. It was raining earlier. Then it stopped. It is no longer raining.
Grandmother: Put your windshield-wipers on, Timothy.
Me: But it’s not raining.
Grandfather: Christ, Timothy, how far away are we going?!
Me: We’re going to Truro. It’s about a three-hour drive.
Grandfather: We’ve been driving for six hours already!
Me: It’s been 38 minutes.
Grandmother: Timothy, why don’t we stop and wait for the rain to slow down. The road is awfully dangerous.
Grandfather: Slow down, Timothy.
Me: But I’m going—
Grandfather: Just slow down!
[10 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: What is that? There’s wind blowing in this car.
Me: That’s the air conditioner.
Grandfather: Timothy, do you feel that? What is that? There’s wind blowing inside the car!
Me: That’s the air conditioner.
Grandfather: The who?
Me: The air conditioner.
Grandfather: Like hell it’s the air conditioner! There’s wind blowing right here! [Turns the heat up to 78 degrees even though it’s sweltering in the car already]
Grandmother: Timothy, where’s your jacket?
Me: [non-response]
[10 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: This can’t be the right road. There’s no way it’s this far.
Later in the drive:
[Grandfather finishes eating a peach]
Grandmother: Eddie, where are your teeth?
Grandfather: What?
Grandmother: Your teeth. Where are your teeth?!
[Grandfather realizes that the dentures which comprise several of his teeth are not in his mouth]
Grandfather: I haven’t the slightest idea. I must have swallowed them!
Grandmother: You didn’t swallow them...look on the floor.
[Grandfather looks on the floor]
Grandmother: Check your pockets.
Grandfather: Why the hell would I put my teeth in my pockets?
Grandmother: Just check your pockets!
[Grandfather checks his pockets]
[Grandmother checks the bag with the peach pit in it]
Grandmother: Timothy, pull over. Your grandfather lost his teeth.
[I pull over. We search for his teeth. We don’t find his teeth. It later turns out he never had his teeth. It turns out he had left his teeth at home.]
There were several cars driving to Truro for this family trip, and any of them could have been in charge of transporting my grandparents. There was no obvious reason it would have been me. And yet, for the second year in a row, I found myself making the trip with them.*
And quite simply, I don’t understand how that happened.
And so, to commemorate my bewilderment, it’s time for 19 more things I don’t understand.
1) Why fans riot when their team wins. I’ve felt like breaking, vandalizing, and burning things before after watching an important game involving one of my favorite teams. But it tends to occur when things went badly for me and my team. Yet after the Lakers won a few weeks ago, jubilant fans were like, “Yeah! Yay Lakers! Let’s smash the windows of that old man's shop downstairs! Go Kobe! Let’s kidnap that lady’s kid!” And this happens all the time, all over the country—after great victories. I don’t get it.
2) How old is too old with food. I never know when food has expired. Someone pointed to a rotting banana on the counter last week and told me it was completely fine to eat. Apparently you can slice the mold off cheese and it’s good to go. Eggs can allegedly be eaten three weeks after the expiration date. Stuff in oil supposedly lasts for years. Water that has been sitting is said to accumulate bacteria after a few days and should be tossed. Bread should be refrigerated. So should Parmesan cheese. Hot sauce does not need to be refrigerated. But ketchup does. Frozen meat lasts a year. Frozen fruit lasts forever. Sell-by date. Consume-by date. Best-by date.
Seriously, what the fuck?
I hate this topic, because I never know what to do, and I am always scared to test the limit after a childhood of my mother telling me everything “is fine, just eat it.” I have undoubtedly thrown away countless amounts of not-yet-expired food because I’m confused and frightened.
3) How a washing machine works. The washing machine may compete with the dishwasher in its complexity. But it’s different. While the dishwasher is deeply mysterious in what happens inside once you close the door, the washing machine is at an impossibly high level in its controls.
Go ahead. I beg of you. Tell me what the hell these dials mean:
Washing Machine #1:
(In case you were wondering, that’s “1, 2, 3, cloud, 4, triangle, shower, half-shower, swirl, 5, 6, beaker, 7, shower, half-shower, small swirl, 8, 9/leaf, 10, shower, half-shower, small swirl, Z, rapid 32 apostrophe)
Washing Machine #2:
(2, 6, W, 8, 12, oblong off, 2nd rinse, S, R, 2, 6, W, 10, 14, pre-wash, 2, 4, ENZYME SOAK, 30, SOUS, little off, S, R, 2, 6/W, 10, little off, S, R, C)
Washing Machine #3:
(95 degrees, 60 degrees, flower, 40 degrees, hygiene plus, active 40 degrees C, Mini 30, feather, 40 degrees, fox, swirl, castle, 30 degrees/pig's face in water, snowflake, 40 degrees, sushi, snowflake, beaker, 40 degrees, 60 degrees)
How is anyone supposed to understand what the hell is going on with a washing machine dial? Further, what the deuce does “permanent press” mean? What’s being pressed? And how does a washing machine “press” something? And why is it permanent? How does a washing machine press something so hard that it can never be unpressed?
4) When you capitalize and when you don’t. Winter? winter? fall? Summer Semester? Chemistry? math? History? Happy new Year? internet? jetBlue? Sincerely yours? Atlantic Ocean? south? East? Democrats? The president? Oh my god? master’s? Avenue? midwest? Pacific standard time?
5) Why flight attendants have to specify exactly when it is that they’re saying goodbye. Every time I leave the plane they say, “Bye bye now.” Why “now”? “Bye bye” would accomplish everything, you’d save yourself time, and you wouldn’t creep me out as much.
P.S. Bye is clearly one of those words. One of those words where if you write it a lot and look at it for awhile it starts to look really weird.
6) Political systems in other countries. Other countries are always talking about the “ruling party” and the “majority coalition” and like 3 or 4 parties who all have “seats” in the “Parliament” and share influence somehow. I don’t really get it. I also don’t get the difference between the power of a Prime Minister (prime minister?) and President when there are both in the same country. Like in Russia. Putin is the Prime Minister and Medvedev is the President but Medvedev is Putin’s bitch. I always thought “Prime Minister” was kind of synonymous with “President” and I most certainly don’t understand the situation when a country has both. And then there’s all those Middle Eastern countries with their kings and their princes and their Prime Ministers. Confusing.
7) Why rolling suitcases were only invented recently. Seriously, what the hell? The wheel was invented like 56,000 years ago. And now we’re using wheels for advanced things like cars and bicycles, but the 1990’s roll around (pun) and everyone’s still carrying their luggage around like an idiot? When the original purpose of the wheel before all the advanced uses was to help humans transport heavy things without lifting and carrying them? I distinctly remember going to the airport in my earlier years and everyone was lugging their suitcases everywhere. Only in the last 10 or 15 years did rollie suitcases emerge and now—obviously—everyone uses them. I just don’t get why this “innovation” didn’t happen hundreds of years ago.
8) Why people leave their cell phone ringers on at night. I always get really angry if I call someone late at night and they pick up and tell me I woke them up. I’m always like, “Well why the hell is your cell phone ringer on??” And they’re like, “Wait—you’re mad at me??”
I just don’t get it. If I left my cell phone ringer on at night I’d sleep 20% less in general. Most mornings when I wake up I have a couple missed calls, either from the late night or early morning. What if all those calls woke me up? And what if all those people had to think, “Wait, Tim might be sleeping—I'd better not call him,” instead of calling and leaving a message that I can hear when I wake up.
I try to figure out rational reasons for leaving the ringer on, but I have a hard time coming up with one. Most people are like, “What if there’s an emergency?” But think about it—what emergency? What could occur that requires my immediate input or help or attention that can’t wait until the morning? Sure, someone you care about could get hurt or be in trouble—but if you’re really that intent on finding out the second it happens, then get a land line and tell your close family and friends to call it in case of emergency. Isn’t that a better option for the one emergency every ten years than being woken up 2,588 times in those ten years just in case that one moment occurs?
9) Whether “bi-monthly” means “twice a month” or “once every two months.” And it’s not just me. I’m pretty sure that no one knows this.
10) What the hell a Kosher diet entails. I have close friends who keep Kosher. And yet, I don't get it. There's the whole milk and meat thing. But there's also the whole "each meat in itself must also be Kosher" thing. And then there's the shellfish thing. And the thing with the separate plates. Further, is "Kosher" capitalized? I thought going to Wikipedia would help. Instead, it tossed this one at me:
One of the kosher requirements is having cloven hooves such as goats, pigs and cows. Pigs, in spite of their cloven hooves, remain non-kosher because they lack the other kosher sign, cud-chewing. Horses are entirely uncloven.
11) How to stop on roller-blades. I haven’t roller-bladed since they got huge like 15 years ago. And for good reason. I don’t know how to stop. So for awhile I pulled the whole “Go until you want to stop and then zoom into a bush or dive head-first onto the grass” until I finally said fuck it and gave it up.
12) What the deal is with butlers. What really is a butler? Is it a servant? An assistant? What does he do? Does he live in the house? Are there women butlers? Is there butler school? Is there a butler ladder? Like, do butlers work their way up from shitty families to prominent ones? Is it competitive? If a butler is in a bar and a girl is like, “What do you do?” and he’s like, “I’m a butler”—does she think he’s a needledick, or does she think he’s kind of rad? Can people hit their butlers? Do butlers sit at the dinner table with the family? Can butlers hook up with women in the family? Do they really stand all upright? Are the large majority of butlers in Britain? This is just a taste of my butler questions. I could go on for pages.
13) What really defines an “Arab.” Is an Egyptian an Arab? A Palestinian? A Moroccan? Are all Arabs Muslims? Is an Iraqi Jew an Arab? I’m pretty sure people from Iran aren’t Arabs. Is it a race? A region? Is it somewhat synonymous with Middle Eastern Muslim? Or not at all? And where does the adjective “Arabian” fit into all this? Is everyone on the “Arabian Peninsula” an Arab? Is Arab also one of those words that looks weird when you type it a lot or have I just typed it so much that at this point any word would look weird?
14) Where the water comes from in those refrigerators with a water dispenser on the door. This is probably something I should understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s something I do understand.
15) Why things air earlier in the Central time zone than in the other three. What does it mean when something airs at “7/6 Central”? Does it mean that it airs at 7:00 for the Eastern, Mountain, and Pacific time zones and at 6:00 for the Central time zone? And if so, why? Why would it be different for the Central time zone?
16) Why soccer refs know the amount of time left during garbage time but refuse to make it public. During the heartbreaking USA-Brazil match the other day, I was brought back to a familiar question—how hard would it be for the refs to slap an exact total on garbage time and have it on the ticker for fans to see? Is it a power trip? Do they just not know exactly so they figure they’ll “ballpark” it? Do they want the freedom to let a team finish an attack before calling it? I don’t get it. It leaves so much room for referee subjectivity. If your team lost in the last second of garbage time and you suspected that the refs let it go on longer than they should have so the team could “finish their attack,” how furious would you be?
17) Why people are obsessed with The Police. Their music kind of sucks.
18) Why people can’t have the same type of food twice within a given period of time. People are always like, “No, I just had Chinese on Thursday, let’s get something else” or “No, I’ve had Italian twice this week, let’s get something else.” I don’t get it. Who cares? Are people ever like, “No, I had a Sam Adams last weekend, give me a Heineken”? No—so why with food? Do people taste food for four straight days, and want the taste fully out of their mouth before having it again? Does their Chinese-meter have to fill up again? Do they know that they don’t have to order the same thing? That menus have a variety of options? No—intra-country variety won’t do. They’ve had their fill of the whole cuisine of Mexico after eating that burrito on Monday. Mexico and its entire culinary tradition will have to wait, as it has found itself in the penalty box until the requisite waiting period has expired.
19) What car alarms accomplish. We’ve all heard them going off. Haplessly. Pointlessly. What do car alarms achieve? They’re set off by their fool owners far more than by thieves. And they’re such a commonplace sound at this point that a dude could steal a car and drive it around with the alarm going off and I wouldn’t blink an eye. And why do they go through the idiot rotation of various alarm sounds? It’s like a guy at the car company was scrolling through his options for possible alarms and someone recorded it and decided to make that the alarm.
I just don't get it.
More things I don’t understand:
Volume 3
Volume 2
Volume 1
*On a bright note, we passed a town called Sandwich, and if you don’t think I stopped there, ordered a sandwich, and then said, “I’m eating a sandwich in Sandwich,” you don’t know me very well.
There really is nothing like taking two people in their mid-to-late 80’s on a three-hour drive.
Here is a sample interaction:
Grandfather: For Christ sake, Timothy, how far is this place?
Me: It’s in Truro. We have a long way to go.
Grandfather: We’ve been driving for four hours!
Me: We’ve been driving for 35 minutes. We’re about a fifth of the way there.
Grandfather: How could we not be there already? We’ve driven across the whole state!
[5 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: I don’t see any signs for Truro. Are you sure you’re on the right road?
Me: Yes. We’re on the right road. I have the directions here.
[I show him my iPhone]
Grandfather: What’s that, your radio?
Me: Yes. It’s my radio.
Grandfather: Well I haven’t seen any signs for Truro. Call your father and ask him if we’re on the right road.
Me: No, I’m actually not gonna do that. I have the directions right here.
Grandfather: Enough with your damn radio! Put your hands on the wheel.
[I put my iPhone down]
Grandfather: Both hands! Put both hands on the wheel!
[Now driving with my hands at 2 and 10 o’clock]
Grandmother: Timothy, slow down, it’s teeming buckets.
Me: It’s not raining. It was raining earlier. Then it stopped. It is no longer raining.
Grandmother: Put your windshield-wipers on, Timothy.
Me: But it’s not raining.
Grandfather: Christ, Timothy, how far away are we going?!
Me: We’re going to Truro. It’s about a three-hour drive.
Grandfather: We’ve been driving for six hours already!
Me: It’s been 38 minutes.
Grandmother: Timothy, why don’t we stop and wait for the rain to slow down. The road is awfully dangerous.
Grandfather: Slow down, Timothy.
Me: But I’m going—
Grandfather: Just slow down!
[10 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: What is that? There’s wind blowing in this car.
Me: That’s the air conditioner.
Grandfather: Timothy, do you feel that? What is that? There’s wind blowing inside the car!
Me: That’s the air conditioner.
Grandfather: The who?
Me: The air conditioner.
Grandfather: Like hell it’s the air conditioner! There’s wind blowing right here! [Turns the heat up to 78 degrees even though it’s sweltering in the car already]
Grandmother: Timothy, where’s your jacket?
Me: [non-response]
[10 seconds of silence]
Grandfather: This can’t be the right road. There’s no way it’s this far.
Later in the drive:
[Grandfather finishes eating a peach]
Grandmother: Eddie, where are your teeth?
Grandfather: What?
Grandmother: Your teeth. Where are your teeth?!
[Grandfather realizes that the dentures which comprise several of his teeth are not in his mouth]
Grandfather: I haven’t the slightest idea. I must have swallowed them!
Grandmother: You didn’t swallow them...look on the floor.
[Grandfather looks on the floor]
Grandmother: Check your pockets.
Grandfather: Why the hell would I put my teeth in my pockets?
Grandmother: Just check your pockets!
[Grandfather checks his pockets]
[Grandmother checks the bag with the peach pit in it]
Grandmother: Timothy, pull over. Your grandfather lost his teeth.
[I pull over. We search for his teeth. We don’t find his teeth. It later turns out he never had his teeth. It turns out he had left his teeth at home.]
There were several cars driving to Truro for this family trip, and any of them could have been in charge of transporting my grandparents. There was no obvious reason it would have been me. And yet, for the second year in a row, I found myself making the trip with them.*
And quite simply, I don’t understand how that happened.
And so, to commemorate my bewilderment, it’s time for 19 more things I don’t understand.
1) Why fans riot when their team wins. I’ve felt like breaking, vandalizing, and burning things before after watching an important game involving one of my favorite teams. But it tends to occur when things went badly for me and my team. Yet after the Lakers won a few weeks ago, jubilant fans were like, “Yeah! Yay Lakers! Let’s smash the windows of that old man's shop downstairs! Go Kobe! Let’s kidnap that lady’s kid!” And this happens all the time, all over the country—after great victories. I don’t get it.
2) How old is too old with food. I never know when food has expired. Someone pointed to a rotting banana on the counter last week and told me it was completely fine to eat. Apparently you can slice the mold off cheese and it’s good to go. Eggs can allegedly be eaten three weeks after the expiration date. Stuff in oil supposedly lasts for years. Water that has been sitting is said to accumulate bacteria after a few days and should be tossed. Bread should be refrigerated. So should Parmesan cheese. Hot sauce does not need to be refrigerated. But ketchup does. Frozen meat lasts a year. Frozen fruit lasts forever. Sell-by date. Consume-by date. Best-by date.
Seriously, what the fuck?
I hate this topic, because I never know what to do, and I am always scared to test the limit after a childhood of my mother telling me everything “is fine, just eat it.” I have undoubtedly thrown away countless amounts of not-yet-expired food because I’m confused and frightened.
3) How a washing machine works. The washing machine may compete with the dishwasher in its complexity. But it’s different. While the dishwasher is deeply mysterious in what happens inside once you close the door, the washing machine is at an impossibly high level in its controls.
Go ahead. I beg of you. Tell me what the hell these dials mean:
Washing Machine #1:
(In case you were wondering, that’s “1, 2, 3, cloud, 4, triangle, shower, half-shower, swirl, 5, 6, beaker, 7, shower, half-shower, small swirl, 8, 9/leaf, 10, shower, half-shower, small swirl, Z, rapid 32 apostrophe)
Washing Machine #2:
(2, 6, W, 8, 12, oblong off, 2nd rinse, S, R, 2, 6, W, 10, 14, pre-wash, 2, 4, ENZYME SOAK, 30, SOUS, little off, S, R, 2, 6/W, 10, little off, S, R, C)
Washing Machine #3:
(95 degrees, 60 degrees, flower, 40 degrees, hygiene plus, active 40 degrees C, Mini 30, feather, 40 degrees, fox, swirl, castle, 30 degrees/pig's face in water, snowflake, 40 degrees, sushi, snowflake, beaker, 40 degrees, 60 degrees)
How is anyone supposed to understand what the hell is going on with a washing machine dial? Further, what the deuce does “permanent press” mean? What’s being pressed? And how does a washing machine “press” something? And why is it permanent? How does a washing machine press something so hard that it can never be unpressed?
4) When you capitalize and when you don’t. Winter? winter? fall? Summer Semester? Chemistry? math? History? Happy new Year? internet? jetBlue? Sincerely yours? Atlantic Ocean? south? East? Democrats? The president? Oh my god? master’s? Avenue? midwest? Pacific standard time?
5) Why flight attendants have to specify exactly when it is that they’re saying goodbye. Every time I leave the plane they say, “Bye bye now.” Why “now”? “Bye bye” would accomplish everything, you’d save yourself time, and you wouldn’t creep me out as much.
P.S. Bye is clearly one of those words. One of those words where if you write it a lot and look at it for awhile it starts to look really weird.
6) Political systems in other countries. Other countries are always talking about the “ruling party” and the “majority coalition” and like 3 or 4 parties who all have “seats” in the “Parliament” and share influence somehow. I don’t really get it. I also don’t get the difference between the power of a Prime Minister (prime minister?) and President when there are both in the same country. Like in Russia. Putin is the Prime Minister and Medvedev is the President but Medvedev is Putin’s bitch. I always thought “Prime Minister” was kind of synonymous with “President” and I most certainly don’t understand the situation when a country has both. And then there’s all those Middle Eastern countries with their kings and their princes and their Prime Ministers. Confusing.
7) Why rolling suitcases were only invented recently. Seriously, what the hell? The wheel was invented like 56,000 years ago. And now we’re using wheels for advanced things like cars and bicycles, but the 1990’s roll around (pun) and everyone’s still carrying their luggage around like an idiot? When the original purpose of the wheel before all the advanced uses was to help humans transport heavy things without lifting and carrying them? I distinctly remember going to the airport in my earlier years and everyone was lugging their suitcases everywhere. Only in the last 10 or 15 years did rollie suitcases emerge and now—obviously—everyone uses them. I just don’t get why this “innovation” didn’t happen hundreds of years ago.
8) Why people leave their cell phone ringers on at night. I always get really angry if I call someone late at night and they pick up and tell me I woke them up. I’m always like, “Well why the hell is your cell phone ringer on??” And they’re like, “Wait—you’re mad at me??”
I just don’t get it. If I left my cell phone ringer on at night I’d sleep 20% less in general. Most mornings when I wake up I have a couple missed calls, either from the late night or early morning. What if all those calls woke me up? And what if all those people had to think, “Wait, Tim might be sleeping—I'd better not call him,” instead of calling and leaving a message that I can hear when I wake up.
I try to figure out rational reasons for leaving the ringer on, but I have a hard time coming up with one. Most people are like, “What if there’s an emergency?” But think about it—what emergency? What could occur that requires my immediate input or help or attention that can’t wait until the morning? Sure, someone you care about could get hurt or be in trouble—but if you’re really that intent on finding out the second it happens, then get a land line and tell your close family and friends to call it in case of emergency. Isn’t that a better option for the one emergency every ten years than being woken up 2,588 times in those ten years just in case that one moment occurs?
9) Whether “bi-monthly” means “twice a month” or “once every two months.” And it’s not just me. I’m pretty sure that no one knows this.
10) What the hell a Kosher diet entails. I have close friends who keep Kosher. And yet, I don't get it. There's the whole milk and meat thing. But there's also the whole "each meat in itself must also be Kosher" thing. And then there's the shellfish thing. And the thing with the separate plates. Further, is "Kosher" capitalized? I thought going to Wikipedia would help. Instead, it tossed this one at me:
One of the kosher requirements is having cloven hooves such as goats, pigs and cows. Pigs, in spite of their cloven hooves, remain non-kosher because they lack the other kosher sign, cud-chewing. Horses are entirely uncloven.
11) How to stop on roller-blades. I haven’t roller-bladed since they got huge like 15 years ago. And for good reason. I don’t know how to stop. So for awhile I pulled the whole “Go until you want to stop and then zoom into a bush or dive head-first onto the grass” until I finally said fuck it and gave it up.
12) What the deal is with butlers. What really is a butler? Is it a servant? An assistant? What does he do? Does he live in the house? Are there women butlers? Is there butler school? Is there a butler ladder? Like, do butlers work their way up from shitty families to prominent ones? Is it competitive? If a butler is in a bar and a girl is like, “What do you do?” and he’s like, “I’m a butler”—does she think he’s a needledick, or does she think he’s kind of rad? Can people hit their butlers? Do butlers sit at the dinner table with the family? Can butlers hook up with women in the family? Do they really stand all upright? Are the large majority of butlers in Britain? This is just a taste of my butler questions. I could go on for pages.
13) What really defines an “Arab.” Is an Egyptian an Arab? A Palestinian? A Moroccan? Are all Arabs Muslims? Is an Iraqi Jew an Arab? I’m pretty sure people from Iran aren’t Arabs. Is it a race? A region? Is it somewhat synonymous with Middle Eastern Muslim? Or not at all? And where does the adjective “Arabian” fit into all this? Is everyone on the “Arabian Peninsula” an Arab? Is Arab also one of those words that looks weird when you type it a lot or have I just typed it so much that at this point any word would look weird?
14) Where the water comes from in those refrigerators with a water dispenser on the door. This is probably something I should understand. But that doesn’t mean it’s something I do understand.
15) Why things air earlier in the Central time zone than in the other three. What does it mean when something airs at “7/6 Central”? Does it mean that it airs at 7:00 for the Eastern, Mountain, and Pacific time zones and at 6:00 for the Central time zone? And if so, why? Why would it be different for the Central time zone?
16) Why soccer refs know the amount of time left during garbage time but refuse to make it public. During the heartbreaking USA-Brazil match the other day, I was brought back to a familiar question—how hard would it be for the refs to slap an exact total on garbage time and have it on the ticker for fans to see? Is it a power trip? Do they just not know exactly so they figure they’ll “ballpark” it? Do they want the freedom to let a team finish an attack before calling it? I don’t get it. It leaves so much room for referee subjectivity. If your team lost in the last second of garbage time and you suspected that the refs let it go on longer than they should have so the team could “finish their attack,” how furious would you be?
17) Why people are obsessed with The Police. Their music kind of sucks.
18) Why people can’t have the same type of food twice within a given period of time. People are always like, “No, I just had Chinese on Thursday, let’s get something else” or “No, I’ve had Italian twice this week, let’s get something else.” I don’t get it. Who cares? Are people ever like, “No, I had a Sam Adams last weekend, give me a Heineken”? No—so why with food? Do people taste food for four straight days, and want the taste fully out of their mouth before having it again? Does their Chinese-meter have to fill up again? Do they know that they don’t have to order the same thing? That menus have a variety of options? No—intra-country variety won’t do. They’ve had their fill of the whole cuisine of Mexico after eating that burrito on Monday. Mexico and its entire culinary tradition will have to wait, as it has found itself in the penalty box until the requisite waiting period has expired.
19) What car alarms accomplish. We’ve all heard them going off. Haplessly. Pointlessly. What do car alarms achieve? They’re set off by their fool owners far more than by thieves. And they’re such a commonplace sound at this point that a dude could steal a car and drive it around with the alarm going off and I wouldn’t blink an eye. And why do they go through the idiot rotation of various alarm sounds? It’s like a guy at the car company was scrolling through his options for possible alarms and someone recorded it and decided to make that the alarm.
I just don't get it.
More things I don’t understand:
Volume 3
Volume 2
Volume 1
*On a bright note, we passed a town called Sandwich, and if you don’t think I stopped there, ordered a sandwich, and then said, “I’m eating a sandwich in Sandwich,” you don’t know me very well.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Nine Items From the Sky
I’m on an airplane.
Usually, being on an airplane comes with an immense feeling of satisfaction for me. A sensation of victory. Usually, sitting in the runway, I feel like I’m sitting in the locker room after an incredibly close, gutty win.
Because usually, I got to the airport with 31 minutes before takeoff, got my boarding pass with only 30 seconds to spare before the cutoff, stressed out mightily in the security line, ran through the terminal to the gate (where the lady says, “Are you Timothy?” and then says to the other lady, “Okay, we’ve got everyone.”), walked through the aisle of the plane and made eye contact with 85 people, moved someone’s coat to find space for my carry-on bag, and collapsed triumphantly into my seat. Nothing feels better.
Today, though, was different. I’m leaving Washington, DC, where I spent the last four days (in 130 degree weather—good old DC summers), and someone who I thought was a friend had told me that the cab ride to Washington/Dulles could take up to an hour and a half. Foolishly trusting this advice, I got in a cab around 4pm (for a 6:10 flight), only to arrive at the airport at 4:40—ninety minutes prior to my scheduled departure time.
It’s like being all geared up for a big, anticipated boxing match—only the other guy never shows up. So they hand you the victory belt—but it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels like a letdown.
So here I am on this plane. Not a winner. Not a champion. Just another guy on the plane.
At least, I thought, there are good sports on. During my time in the air, the Red Sox are playing the Yankees (en route, as it turns out, to a hilarious 8-0 record against them this season), and the NBA finals are coming on.
I started flipping around and quickly realized that the Yankees game was gonna be on the YES Network and I would be out of luck there. But at least I had the NBA. At least I could spend the flight rooting against Kobe Bryant. But wait-- did JetBlue carry TNT??? I flipped through the stations nervously and yes! TNT. Except there was Will Smith, and I was watching a movie. Oh yeah—the finals is on ABC. Okay, no problem. So I flipped to ABC…and apparently…JetBlue carries every station in existence except ABC. I started thinking of possible explanations—some weird legal reasons why an airline would have to leave out a major network, and then got extremely bored with this internal topic of conversation and out came the laptop.
Indeed, the only solution would be items. Nine items.
___________
I went to my five-year college reunion last weekend. Fuck, I gotta say, life moves damn fast. I was just at my five-year high school reunion and now I’m at my five-year college reunion like two days later. How did that happen? And suddenly people are saying things like, “I graduated college in ’09” and I think about how people used to gasp at how young I was when I’d say I graduated high school in ’00 and now ’00 is kind of a long time ago.
But there I was, at my reunion. Reunions are very silly events. A few notes from the weekend:
-I had forgotten how unattractive the average Harvard student is. Harvard really has a knack for that.
-When the night starts, the percentage of people you end up talking to that you genuinely want to be talking to is about 10%. After three drinks that number moves to 25%. After six drinks it’s up to about 50%.
Still, that leaves a lot of people you don’t really want to talk to. As you interact with the 500-person crowd in the big tent, the key is to avoid eye contact with those people. The problem is, you also really want to look around and see who’s there, so eye contact is inevitable. Upon making eye contact with someone you don’t really want to talk to, one of three categories of interactions takes place:
___________
When I first purchased the rights to Winston in 2005, I was made aware of a very troubling truth: there was a chance—a 50-50 chance in fact—that Winston was…a female.
I spent most of the last three years trying not to think about this twisted possibility. Put yourself in my shoes—imagine you have a life partner, and ever since you have known this person, you have known him or her to be of one particular gender. But you had been told long ago that at some point down the road, it may become clear that your life partner is, in fact, of the other gender. This would bother you, would it not?
You see, I am a homosexual pet owner. That’s right—a homosexual pet owner. By that, I do not mean that I am a gay man who owns pets. Rather, it means that I prefer to own male pets. If I cannot, in good conscience, say “Good boy” to an animal, I would prefer that animal to be banished from my awareness. When I come across other people’s pets, I will invariably say “Good boy” to them. When the pet happens to be a girl, the owner gets extremely rattled and upset and says, “It’s a girl.” I’ll then pretend I didn’t hear anything and say “Good boy” once again.
But other people’s pets are one thing—the thought of owning a female pet is unfathomable. You can’t fake it forever with your own life partner.
Anyway, the guy at the pet store had told me that after a few years, the bottom of a male tortoise’s shell will curve a bit inward (for mounting purposes). So, he said, after three or so years, I’d be able to determine Winston’s gender by observing whether his shell had curved in or not.
Until recently, I had been too nervous to look—the thought of three years passing and seeing a flat bottom left me too afraid to investigate. Then, last week, I took a deep breath and clutched Winston’s shell in my hand and prepared to lift him—it was time…
And I noticed an undeniable curve to his shell! Winston is, and will continue to be for the next 140 years, a dude. Phew.
___________
I moved apartments last week. It was one of the top five worst experiences of my life. Of course, everything was as difficult as it could possibly have been—from going through hell to get a city permit to reserve street space for my pod, to buying boxes but not enough and tape but not enough in the same trip, to the elevator breaking halfway through my moving day (with my friend Chantal trapped inside, hilariously).
Stuff is the devil. At some point, I strive to be able to fit every possession of mine into two suitcases (right now I’d need about 30).
On the topic of the city permit—anytime I have to interact closely with a bureaucratic process, it makes me want to desperately move to Tuvalu, get a bungalow on the beach, eat only coconuts, and never come back. Planning to set up a branch of my company in New York in three months, I may at some point be forced to disappear forever. If so, don’t fret—I’m simply in Tuvalu, never to return.
___________
I’ve seen two movies recently—Earth and Up—and they were both phenomenal. It made no difference that I had seen all the footage in Earth before (it’s all taken from Planet Earth)—seeing it on a big screen with big music is pure glory. As for Up, I was both drunk and wearing 3-D glasses—basically the pinnacle of existence.
I will say—having to go to the bathroom during movies is one of the most stressful experiences I have. It leaves me with two terrible options—hold it and spend the whole movie miserable, or step over everyone and sprint to the bathroom, followed by stepping over everyone again and then trying to figure out what I missed. The only thing worse than that is having to go to the bathroom on a flight when you're in the window seat and the other two people in your row are sleeping. The absolute worst are the times you finally gain the courage to wake them up, you go to the bathroom, come back to your seat, and then have to go again 45 minutes later because you had coffee and coffee makes you have to go twice in an hour span. This happened recently and I was too fearful and abashed to wake them up again so I stepped over them. You heard me—I’m a 27-year-old man and I stepped on the armrest and walked over two strangers. They didn’t wake up—but nearby people were staring intently. Then when I came back the aisle guy had woken up—undoubtedly baffled as to how I had gotten out of my seat.
___________
I finally learned what Twitter was. And I started “tweeting” (I feel like a d-bag saying "tweeting"). I enjoy it, because I’m weird and I like typing random things and posting them on the Internet and because I love finding new ways to procrastinate. But I must say—I’m not really sure why everyone else likes it. It’s like, you go on and read the last few tweets by other people and you’re like, “Uh huh.” Then you write your own and post it and you’re like, “I guess that’s it,” and you shrug and go do something else. Again, I like it because I’m weird, but I can’t quite figure out why it has caught on.
___________
Last year, I wrote about an extended honeymoon phase I had with a silly putty I had come across. Eventually, we went our separate ways. But I have recently found myself enamored once again—this time with a green “sticky hand.” There are few things I enjoy as much as a good old fashioned sticky hand.
___________
If you missed NBC’s recent “Inside the White House” special, you can watch it here. It was really fun to watch. At one point, Obama decides to head out and pick up burgers for everyone for lunch. So he goes in a low-key motorcade to a "Five Guys" restaurant and just heads in, unannounced. Of course, everyone starts screaming and convulsing and taking cell phone pictures, and he’s like, “whatever” and orders 10 burgers for himself and his staff back at the White House.
How shocking must it be to be sitting there on your fat ass, eating a burger, and in walks the president, unescorted. More so, how incredibly weird must it be to be the president. You’re like an alien, or God, or Michael Jordan, or some combination of all of them. I like that Obama seems to have a higher awareness and appreciation than other presidents of the fact that he’s the president and that that’s mad cool. Like, he definitely pulled this whole burger thing because he knew it would be aired on NBC, and wanted to be like, “Okay, so, I’m just gonna go get a burger—because I can—and watch how much everyone freaks out. Cool, right?” P.S. I’m deeply obsessed with Obama.
___________
There are hard tasks. There are monumental challenges. And then there’s ironing. I found myself in a quandary the other day. I was on the road. I had four shirts, and all of them were ridiculously wrinkled. And I was about to interview people—and what kind of dick interviews someone with a wrinkled shirt.
So I took out the iron. It went something like this.
(I actually wrote out in detail what happened before remembering that I had been here before on this blog. It's frightening how similar what I wrote just now was to what I wrote over three years ago. Basically identical ironing experiences. Good to know I learn.)
___________
Apparently the number zero didn’t really exist until recently. And then apparently in the 9th century the Hindus were like, “Oh yeah, duh,” and invented zero—and it revolutionized mathematics. Wait, really? How? Why did it take thousands of years of humans doing math before someone figured out that a symbol for zero was important? That’s like someone saying, “For over a century since the invention of the light bulb, people suffered from the bright bulbs hurting their eyes, until the revolutionary invention of the lampshade in 2002.” Or, “After decades of people painstakingly carrying their luggage, in the 1990’s suitcase manufacturers invented the suitcase with wheels, revolutionizing the way people transported their luggage when traveling.” Oh wait, that actually happened.
Alright, enough items—I have to go to the bathroom. And I’m in the window seat. And the aisle guy is sleeping. Fuck.
Usually, being on an airplane comes with an immense feeling of satisfaction for me. A sensation of victory. Usually, sitting in the runway, I feel like I’m sitting in the locker room after an incredibly close, gutty win.
Because usually, I got to the airport with 31 minutes before takeoff, got my boarding pass with only 30 seconds to spare before the cutoff, stressed out mightily in the security line, ran through the terminal to the gate (where the lady says, “Are you Timothy?” and then says to the other lady, “Okay, we’ve got everyone.”), walked through the aisle of the plane and made eye contact with 85 people, moved someone’s coat to find space for my carry-on bag, and collapsed triumphantly into my seat. Nothing feels better.
Today, though, was different. I’m leaving Washington, DC, where I spent the last four days (in 130 degree weather—good old DC summers), and someone who I thought was a friend had told me that the cab ride to Washington/Dulles could take up to an hour and a half. Foolishly trusting this advice, I got in a cab around 4pm (for a 6:10 flight), only to arrive at the airport at 4:40—ninety minutes prior to my scheduled departure time.
It’s like being all geared up for a big, anticipated boxing match—only the other guy never shows up. So they hand you the victory belt—but it doesn’t feel like a victory. It feels like a letdown.
So here I am on this plane. Not a winner. Not a champion. Just another guy on the plane.
At least, I thought, there are good sports on. During my time in the air, the Red Sox are playing the Yankees (en route, as it turns out, to a hilarious 8-0 record against them this season), and the NBA finals are coming on.
I started flipping around and quickly realized that the Yankees game was gonna be on the YES Network and I would be out of luck there. But at least I had the NBA. At least I could spend the flight rooting against Kobe Bryant. But wait-- did JetBlue carry TNT??? I flipped through the stations nervously and yes! TNT. Except there was Will Smith, and I was watching a movie. Oh yeah—the finals is on ABC. Okay, no problem. So I flipped to ABC…and apparently…JetBlue carries every station in existence except ABC. I started thinking of possible explanations—some weird legal reasons why an airline would have to leave out a major network, and then got extremely bored with this internal topic of conversation and out came the laptop.
Indeed, the only solution would be items. Nine items.
___________
I went to my five-year college reunion last weekend. Fuck, I gotta say, life moves damn fast. I was just at my five-year high school reunion and now I’m at my five-year college reunion like two days later. How did that happen? And suddenly people are saying things like, “I graduated college in ’09” and I think about how people used to gasp at how young I was when I’d say I graduated high school in ’00 and now ’00 is kind of a long time ago.
But there I was, at my reunion. Reunions are very silly events. A few notes from the weekend:
-I had forgotten how unattractive the average Harvard student is. Harvard really has a knack for that.
-When the night starts, the percentage of people you end up talking to that you genuinely want to be talking to is about 10%. After three drinks that number moves to 25%. After six drinks it’s up to about 50%.
Still, that leaves a lot of people you don’t really want to talk to. As you interact with the 500-person crowd in the big tent, the key is to avoid eye contact with those people. The problem is, you also really want to look around and see who’s there, so eye contact is inevitable. Upon making eye contact with someone you don’t really want to talk to, one of three categories of interactions takes place:
- Category 1: You barely knew them. Maybe you had a class with them but were never really friends. Maybe you hooked up with them one random night and both of you want to pretend it never happened. In a Category 1 case, you can get away with the smile and wave from afar and you can move on. But you have to be careful. If the smile or wave or eye contact goes on for even a second too long, you blew it and this suddenly becomes a Category 2. You must look away after one or two seconds to preserve the Category 1 interaction.
- Category 2: You were kind of friends with them but not really. Maybe your friend was friends with them. Maybe you went out on a date with them but nothing came of it. Maybe they lived down the hall from you and for that year you got to know them a little bit. But one thing is for sure—you knew them too well to get away with a Category 1 interaction. In this case, that would be dickish. You have no choice but to smile with the “Hey! You’re here! What a pleasant surprise!” look on your face, walk over to them, and give them a hug or handshake. And it is at this moment that you must have all your wits about you. This is the moment of truth. Because Category 2 interactions can transform into hideous Category 3 interactions in the drop of a hat if you screw this next moment up. What you need to do is say, “Great to see you!” or “How’ve you been?” and then start moving onwards. If done correctly, a Category 2 interaction should last about 10 seconds and no one’s feelings will be hurt. Of course, there are many pitfalls—like saying, “What have you been up to?” or “Where are you living?”—that will immediately land you in a Category 3 interaction with no escape.
- Category 3: Sometimes you’re here because you have no choice. Sometimes you’re here because you botched a Category 2. But you’re here and there’s no escaping—for at least three minutes. Some people you simply knew too well in college to have a Category 2 interaction with. With these people, that would be dickish. Maybe you were good friends freshman year but not really after that. Maybe you dated them for a month. Maybe they lived one door down from you in the dorm and hung out in your room a lot one year. But two things are for certain: You don’t want to catch up with this person, and you have to do so for at least three minutes. And that’s just the minimum. Sometimes a Category 3 can drag on for upwards of ten minutes. The whole time, you’re trying to figure out where the friends you were just with went, and where that girl you wanted to talk to has now disappeared off to. They’ve all drifted elsewhere, but not you—you’re not going anywhere. You’re gonna hear about this person’s job. You’re gonna hear their feelings on their current city. You’re gonna give them the compressed summary of your life that you could say in your sleep by now. Fake laughter will make an appearance. You're in a Category 3 interaction and that's that. There are two possible forms of exit—1) a natural wrap-up like, “Cool, great seeing you” and 2) the active escape—something like, “I gotta run to the bathroom,” or “I’m gonna get a drink” (you have to make sure they don’t also need a drink), or sometimes you can just mutter something like, “Okay wait a second, I’ve gotta run over there for a second and see if the thing is over there, but I’ll see you in a minute.”
___________
When I first purchased the rights to Winston in 2005, I was made aware of a very troubling truth: there was a chance—a 50-50 chance in fact—that Winston was…a female.
I spent most of the last three years trying not to think about this twisted possibility. Put yourself in my shoes—imagine you have a life partner, and ever since you have known this person, you have known him or her to be of one particular gender. But you had been told long ago that at some point down the road, it may become clear that your life partner is, in fact, of the other gender. This would bother you, would it not?
You see, I am a homosexual pet owner. That’s right—a homosexual pet owner. By that, I do not mean that I am a gay man who owns pets. Rather, it means that I prefer to own male pets. If I cannot, in good conscience, say “Good boy” to an animal, I would prefer that animal to be banished from my awareness. When I come across other people’s pets, I will invariably say “Good boy” to them. When the pet happens to be a girl, the owner gets extremely rattled and upset and says, “It’s a girl.” I’ll then pretend I didn’t hear anything and say “Good boy” once again.
But other people’s pets are one thing—the thought of owning a female pet is unfathomable. You can’t fake it forever with your own life partner.
Anyway, the guy at the pet store had told me that after a few years, the bottom of a male tortoise’s shell will curve a bit inward (for mounting purposes). So, he said, after three or so years, I’d be able to determine Winston’s gender by observing whether his shell had curved in or not.
Until recently, I had been too nervous to look—the thought of three years passing and seeing a flat bottom left me too afraid to investigate. Then, last week, I took a deep breath and clutched Winston’s shell in my hand and prepared to lift him—it was time…
And I noticed an undeniable curve to his shell! Winston is, and will continue to be for the next 140 years, a dude. Phew.
___________
I moved apartments last week. It was one of the top five worst experiences of my life. Of course, everything was as difficult as it could possibly have been—from going through hell to get a city permit to reserve street space for my pod, to buying boxes but not enough and tape but not enough in the same trip, to the elevator breaking halfway through my moving day (with my friend Chantal trapped inside, hilariously).
Stuff is the devil. At some point, I strive to be able to fit every possession of mine into two suitcases (right now I’d need about 30).
On the topic of the city permit—anytime I have to interact closely with a bureaucratic process, it makes me want to desperately move to Tuvalu, get a bungalow on the beach, eat only coconuts, and never come back. Planning to set up a branch of my company in New York in three months, I may at some point be forced to disappear forever. If so, don’t fret—I’m simply in Tuvalu, never to return.
___________
I’ve seen two movies recently—Earth and Up—and they were both phenomenal. It made no difference that I had seen all the footage in Earth before (it’s all taken from Planet Earth)—seeing it on a big screen with big music is pure glory. As for Up, I was both drunk and wearing 3-D glasses—basically the pinnacle of existence.
I will say—having to go to the bathroom during movies is one of the most stressful experiences I have. It leaves me with two terrible options—hold it and spend the whole movie miserable, or step over everyone and sprint to the bathroom, followed by stepping over everyone again and then trying to figure out what I missed. The only thing worse than that is having to go to the bathroom on a flight when you're in the window seat and the other two people in your row are sleeping. The absolute worst are the times you finally gain the courage to wake them up, you go to the bathroom, come back to your seat, and then have to go again 45 minutes later because you had coffee and coffee makes you have to go twice in an hour span. This happened recently and I was too fearful and abashed to wake them up again so I stepped over them. You heard me—I’m a 27-year-old man and I stepped on the armrest and walked over two strangers. They didn’t wake up—but nearby people were staring intently. Then when I came back the aisle guy had woken up—undoubtedly baffled as to how I had gotten out of my seat.
___________
I finally learned what Twitter was. And I started “tweeting” (I feel like a d-bag saying "tweeting"). I enjoy it, because I’m weird and I like typing random things and posting them on the Internet and because I love finding new ways to procrastinate. But I must say—I’m not really sure why everyone else likes it. It’s like, you go on and read the last few tweets by other people and you’re like, “Uh huh.” Then you write your own and post it and you’re like, “I guess that’s it,” and you shrug and go do something else. Again, I like it because I’m weird, but I can’t quite figure out why it has caught on.
___________
Last year, I wrote about an extended honeymoon phase I had with a silly putty I had come across. Eventually, we went our separate ways. But I have recently found myself enamored once again—this time with a green “sticky hand.” There are few things I enjoy as much as a good old fashioned sticky hand.
___________
If you missed NBC’s recent “Inside the White House” special, you can watch it here. It was really fun to watch. At one point, Obama decides to head out and pick up burgers for everyone for lunch. So he goes in a low-key motorcade to a "Five Guys" restaurant and just heads in, unannounced. Of course, everyone starts screaming and convulsing and taking cell phone pictures, and he’s like, “whatever” and orders 10 burgers for himself and his staff back at the White House.
How shocking must it be to be sitting there on your fat ass, eating a burger, and in walks the president, unescorted. More so, how incredibly weird must it be to be the president. You’re like an alien, or God, or Michael Jordan, or some combination of all of them. I like that Obama seems to have a higher awareness and appreciation than other presidents of the fact that he’s the president and that that’s mad cool. Like, he definitely pulled this whole burger thing because he knew it would be aired on NBC, and wanted to be like, “Okay, so, I’m just gonna go get a burger—because I can—and watch how much everyone freaks out. Cool, right?” P.S. I’m deeply obsessed with Obama.
___________
There are hard tasks. There are monumental challenges. And then there’s ironing. I found myself in a quandary the other day. I was on the road. I had four shirts, and all of them were ridiculously wrinkled. And I was about to interview people—and what kind of dick interviews someone with a wrinkled shirt.
So I took out the iron. It went something like this.
(I actually wrote out in detail what happened before remembering that I had been here before on this blog. It's frightening how similar what I wrote just now was to what I wrote over three years ago. Basically identical ironing experiences. Good to know I learn.)
___________
Apparently the number zero didn’t really exist until recently. And then apparently in the 9th century the Hindus were like, “Oh yeah, duh,” and invented zero—and it revolutionized mathematics. Wait, really? How? Why did it take thousands of years of humans doing math before someone figured out that a symbol for zero was important? That’s like someone saying, “For over a century since the invention of the light bulb, people suffered from the bright bulbs hurting their eyes, until the revolutionary invention of the lampshade in 2002.” Or, “After decades of people painstakingly carrying their luggage, in the 1990’s suitcase manufacturers invented the suitcase with wheels, revolutionizing the way people transported their luggage when traveling.” Oh wait, that actually happened.
Alright, enough items—I have to go to the bathroom. And I’m in the window seat. And the aisle guy is sleeping. Fuck.
Friday, May 22, 2009
25 Things That Are Underrated
1) The Cool-Lookingness of Clouds. Imagine that clouds were extremely rare. But there was this one part of Alaska where it was just the right temperature that vapor collected above the Earth and formed these bizarre white shapes. You’d see pictures of them throughout your life, and when someone asked you what you’d like to see most in the world you’d be like, “I’d love to see the Pyramids. Or the Alaskan clouds.” And people would be like, “Yeah.”
But because clouds are always up in our grill wherever we go, we just ignore them and complain about them. Look at these jaded fools sitting there not marveling at the incredible clouds in front of them-
2) Municipal Services. You take them for granted. I take them for granted. If they stopped, the roads would be undrivable, crime would be rampant, and poop would be everywhere.
3) Stretching. You’re sitting on a plane for six hours. It finally lands, and all the idiots stand up immediately, even though it’s gonna be ten minutes before anyone can leave the plane. So you sit and continue reading your delicious book or watching your riveting show. Finally shit starts moving and you stand up. But before you get your luggage from the overhead compartment (which you do carefully because you’ve been warned that items may have shifted during the flight), you do a big, euphoric stretch. This is as good as any orgasm. And yet, stretches are underrated. People like to say things are “better than sex.” But what if I was like, “My GOD—this fucking fondue is better than stretching.” People would be really creeped out.
The downside of stretching is that if you’re with a complete dick, they might murder your climax by doing something heinous, like tickling you. Little makes me angrier than someone tickling me in the midst of a glorious stretch. What if someone tried to tickle you during an orgasm? Would you be like, “Ha ha—that was funny!” No, you’d be like, “But seriously, if you ever do that again, I might have to hit you.” Why should stretching be treated differently?
4) Reptiles’ Cuteness: I know I’ve gone into this before, but c’mon:
5) Blind People. But seriously, next time you’re outside on the street, or in a hotel lobby, or at a baseball game, or anywhere, try closing your eyes and see how long you last. Blind people should be revered. That blind people live reasonably normal lives is mind-boggling, and beyond impressive. If I close my eyes in public, the thought of walking down the street and doing normal things—walking stick or no walking stick—is unimaginable. Not just the disorientation—but also the paranoia and vulnerability at all times—would drive me insane. I gained the full level of respect for blind people after having dinner in the pitch black.
6) The Balls of the Dunkin Donuts Logo Designer. So imagine that a company commissions you to design a logo for them. And you come up with this ridiculous shit:
And you’re like, “Fuck it just might work.” It’s at that point that a normal person says, “Nah, that would never fly” or “That would clearly end my career.” Only a person with huge fucking balls shows up to the final meeting with the execs, slaps that shit on the table, and is like, “Yeah, that’s right. What of it?” I imagine that wherever this manly fucking graphic designer is now, he lives with an element of frustration, feeling like the diameter of his balls is under-appreciated and underrated by most people.
7) Ice Water. When you’re mad thirsty, people are like, “Have a beer,” or, “Have this cola.” But when you’re really fucking thirsty, how absurdly delicious is ice water?
8) How Allergic I am to Horses. No but seriously. When I was like 12 my family was on some trip in Wyoming or somewhere and we decided to ride horses. I spent the next 18 hours feeling like I did the time I ate Sbarro’s in a shopping mall and threw up 64 times that night. Not good times. I haven’t ridden a horse since, but even when I hang out near these fuckers, bad things happen. I feel like this is a generally under-appreciated fact by my friends, family, and the general public.
9) Nitrogen. Our atmosphere is composed of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, and 1% other stuff. 78%. Does anyone talk about nitrogen? Do you ever hear anyone being like, “Thank god for all this nitrogen”? or “Isn’t it weird that we spend our lives bathing in nitrogen?” No. All anyone ever talks about is oxygen. This is how the Hutu must have felt, being the vast majority but getting the shaft all the time. Too soon? Possibly. The point is that oxygen is obsessed with being in the spotlight, definitely googles itself all the time, and should be put in its place at some point.
10) The Terribleness of Death Toll Headlines about Third World Countries. There are always these headlines like, “Mudslide in Haiti Kills 92,” and you’re like, “That really sucks. What a sad story. Who won the Pistons game?” But what the fuck? 92 people. Dead! 92 mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands and wives just died in an unbelievably tragic event, but you’re just kind of immune to, and emotionally removed from those headlines by now and it doesn’t even really jump off the page. And it’s not all our fault. CNN.com will crunch that headline between shit like, “Limbaugh blasts Powell Attack” and “Girl, 12, wins Doodle 4 Google contest.” I guess it's just easier to be numb to tragedy.
11) Indigo. Such a pretty color.
But no one talks about it.
12) Health. I know it’s hard for something this prominently appreciated and high-rated to still be underappreciated and underrated, but it is. Health is the single most important thing. When something is wrong with your body, it ruins everything else. When something is really wrong with your body, it ends your life. But when health is good, which for most of us, thankfully, it usually is, we completely take it for granted—even though we constantly see bad health diminishing or ruining lives all around us.
13) The Size, Scariness, and Amount of Water in the Ocean. But seriously—how big is the ocean? Could anything possibly be bigger or contain more water? When I’m standing on the beach here in LA, on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, I am in perpetual awe of the fact that this thing stretches a third of the way across planet. And looking at it, I can’t help but say, “That’s a lot of fucking water.” None of this is to mention the sheer terror that lies within. My god there are a lot of scary things in the Pacific Ocean.
14) The Upsettingness of Death. Not to be a downer. But we’re all going to spend nearly all of the rest of eternity NOT existing. This fact is perpetually upsetting to me. I really enjoy existing. It’s something I prefer to do. And sometimes I’m even like, “Well, maybe I won’t die.” But then I look at the data. So far, everyone has died. Everyone. The odds are strongly against me continuing to exist. What a shitty part of all this.
15) How Excited They Must Have Been When They Found Hot Springs Fifty Thousand Years Ago. Imagine it. They were like, “Here I am—hunting, gathering, trying to get laid, trying not to get murdered or raped or made a cuckold of, trying to keep my shit warm at night"—and then, one day, they’re walking through some fucking forest trying to find something to eat…and they come across hot springs. They’d run back and get their tribe and be like, “No but seriously, stop whatever the fuck you’re doing and follow me right now.” And the tribe would clearly set up camp and stay there forever, in their 500th-Century BC luxury crib. Speaking of which…
16) The amount of time humans biologically identical to us have been around. It’s like 100,000 years. I think people think it’s like 10,000.
17) The Radness of America’s Forefathers. People know they were rad. But do they appreciate just how rad they were? No, they’re underratedly rad. They led a successful revolution against the most powerful government in the world while simultaneously inventing democracy and creating the United States of America. Name another group of 50 dudes who have done anything that impressive or monumental.
18) The Grossness of Touching an Earthworm. People, including myself, will pick up an earthworm and be like, “Whatever.” But why? If you were like, “Which hand??” and I was like, “Hmmmm, left??” and you extended your left hand and opened it and dropped a slug into my hand, I’d immediately throw it and then be like, “What the fuck?!” Seriously, think about it—would you ever reach down and pick up a slug? No. But you’d probably be pretty okay picking up an earthworm. Lord knows this guy is—
19) The Badness of Getting a Speeding Ticket. I think people think it’s like four times worse than getting a parking ticket. But here’s what it is: A parking ticket is about $30. A speeding ticket is like $200 or so, plus a point on your license. A point on your license makes your insurance go up like $250 a year for three years. So a speeding ticket actually costs about $1,000 dollars. Making it 30 times worse than a parking ticket. I feel like people don’t realize quite how bad it is to get a speeding ticket.
20) A Hot Shower. Worse than sex. But less worse than people acknowledge.
21) Velcro. So incredibly brilliant. The zipper and bicycle almost made the list too, but I feel like people tend to better appreciate the brilliance of those inventions.
22) The Fact That You Can See Stars With Your Naked Eye. People are always like, “This eagle has amazing sight and can see a grasshopper from across a football field!” A football field? You can see things that are BILLIONS OF LIGHTYEARS AWAY you dick.
23) The Coolness of The Golden Ratio. It’s found everywhere. From several places on the human body to pine cones to seashells to galaxies to the Pyramids to Mozart’s music. I feel like people don’t talk about this enough.
24) The Size of Kazakhstan. Check that shit out. It's about the same size as India. Did you have any idea?
25) Hands. Anytime I’m in a bad mood, I stop to appreciate my hands, and I feel better. Hands are so impossibly useful it’s hard to believe they’re real. I’ll let Steven Pinker take this one over for me:
Nearly two thousand years ago, the Greek physician Galen pointed out the exquisite natural engineering behind the human hand. It is a single tool that manipulates objects of an astonishing range of sizes, shapes, and weights, from a log to a millet seed. “Man handles them all,” Galen noted, “as well as if his hands had been made for the sake of each one of them alone.” The hand can be configured into a hook grip (to lift a pail), a scissors grip (to hold a cigarette), a five-jaw chuck (to lift a coaster), a three-jaw chuck (to hold a pencil), a two-jaw pad-to-pad chuck (to thread a needle), a two-jaw pad-to-side chuck (to turn a key), a squeeze grip (to hold a hammer), a disc grip (to open a jar), and a spherical grip (to hold a ball). Each grip needs a precise combination of muscle tensions that mold the hand into the right shape and keep it there as the load tries to bend it back. Think of lifting a milk carton. Too loose a grasp, and you drop it; too tight, and you crush it; and with some gentle rocking, you can even use the tugging on your fingertips as a gauge of how much milk is inside!
Meanwhile, my hands just danced around this keyboard to type that. When all else sucks, at least your hands are incredible.
But because clouds are always up in our grill wherever we go, we just ignore them and complain about them. Look at these jaded fools sitting there not marveling at the incredible clouds in front of them-
2) Municipal Services. You take them for granted. I take them for granted. If they stopped, the roads would be undrivable, crime would be rampant, and poop would be everywhere.
3) Stretching. You’re sitting on a plane for six hours. It finally lands, and all the idiots stand up immediately, even though it’s gonna be ten minutes before anyone can leave the plane. So you sit and continue reading your delicious book or watching your riveting show. Finally shit starts moving and you stand up. But before you get your luggage from the overhead compartment (which you do carefully because you’ve been warned that items may have shifted during the flight), you do a big, euphoric stretch. This is as good as any orgasm. And yet, stretches are underrated. People like to say things are “better than sex.” But what if I was like, “My GOD—this fucking fondue is better than stretching.” People would be really creeped out.
The downside of stretching is that if you’re with a complete dick, they might murder your climax by doing something heinous, like tickling you. Little makes me angrier than someone tickling me in the midst of a glorious stretch. What if someone tried to tickle you during an orgasm? Would you be like, “Ha ha—that was funny!” No, you’d be like, “But seriously, if you ever do that again, I might have to hit you.” Why should stretching be treated differently?
4) Reptiles’ Cuteness: I know I’ve gone into this before, but c’mon:
5) Blind People. But seriously, next time you’re outside on the street, or in a hotel lobby, or at a baseball game, or anywhere, try closing your eyes and see how long you last. Blind people should be revered. That blind people live reasonably normal lives is mind-boggling, and beyond impressive. If I close my eyes in public, the thought of walking down the street and doing normal things—walking stick or no walking stick—is unimaginable. Not just the disorientation—but also the paranoia and vulnerability at all times—would drive me insane. I gained the full level of respect for blind people after having dinner in the pitch black.
6) The Balls of the Dunkin Donuts Logo Designer. So imagine that a company commissions you to design a logo for them. And you come up with this ridiculous shit:
And you’re like, “Fuck it just might work.” It’s at that point that a normal person says, “Nah, that would never fly” or “That would clearly end my career.” Only a person with huge fucking balls shows up to the final meeting with the execs, slaps that shit on the table, and is like, “Yeah, that’s right. What of it?” I imagine that wherever this manly fucking graphic designer is now, he lives with an element of frustration, feeling like the diameter of his balls is under-appreciated and underrated by most people.
7) Ice Water. When you’re mad thirsty, people are like, “Have a beer,” or, “Have this cola.” But when you’re really fucking thirsty, how absurdly delicious is ice water?
8) How Allergic I am to Horses. No but seriously. When I was like 12 my family was on some trip in Wyoming or somewhere and we decided to ride horses. I spent the next 18 hours feeling like I did the time I ate Sbarro’s in a shopping mall and threw up 64 times that night. Not good times. I haven’t ridden a horse since, but even when I hang out near these fuckers, bad things happen. I feel like this is a generally under-appreciated fact by my friends, family, and the general public.
9) Nitrogen. Our atmosphere is composed of 78% nitrogen, 21% oxygen, and 1% other stuff. 78%. Does anyone talk about nitrogen? Do you ever hear anyone being like, “Thank god for all this nitrogen”? or “Isn’t it weird that we spend our lives bathing in nitrogen?” No. All anyone ever talks about is oxygen. This is how the Hutu must have felt, being the vast majority but getting the shaft all the time. Too soon? Possibly. The point is that oxygen is obsessed with being in the spotlight, definitely googles itself all the time, and should be put in its place at some point.
10) The Terribleness of Death Toll Headlines about Third World Countries. There are always these headlines like, “Mudslide in Haiti Kills 92,” and you’re like, “That really sucks. What a sad story. Who won the Pistons game?” But what the fuck? 92 people. Dead! 92 mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, daughters, husbands and wives just died in an unbelievably tragic event, but you’re just kind of immune to, and emotionally removed from those headlines by now and it doesn’t even really jump off the page. And it’s not all our fault. CNN.com will crunch that headline between shit like, “Limbaugh blasts Powell Attack” and “Girl, 12, wins Doodle 4 Google contest.” I guess it's just easier to be numb to tragedy.
11) Indigo. Such a pretty color.
But no one talks about it.
12) Health. I know it’s hard for something this prominently appreciated and high-rated to still be underappreciated and underrated, but it is. Health is the single most important thing. When something is wrong with your body, it ruins everything else. When something is really wrong with your body, it ends your life. But when health is good, which for most of us, thankfully, it usually is, we completely take it for granted—even though we constantly see bad health diminishing or ruining lives all around us.
13) The Size, Scariness, and Amount of Water in the Ocean. But seriously—how big is the ocean? Could anything possibly be bigger or contain more water? When I’m standing on the beach here in LA, on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, I am in perpetual awe of the fact that this thing stretches a third of the way across planet. And looking at it, I can’t help but say, “That’s a lot of fucking water.” None of this is to mention the sheer terror that lies within. My god there are a lot of scary things in the Pacific Ocean.
14) The Upsettingness of Death. Not to be a downer. But we’re all going to spend nearly all of the rest of eternity NOT existing. This fact is perpetually upsetting to me. I really enjoy existing. It’s something I prefer to do. And sometimes I’m even like, “Well, maybe I won’t die.” But then I look at the data. So far, everyone has died. Everyone. The odds are strongly against me continuing to exist. What a shitty part of all this.
15) How Excited They Must Have Been When They Found Hot Springs Fifty Thousand Years Ago. Imagine it. They were like, “Here I am—hunting, gathering, trying to get laid, trying not to get murdered or raped or made a cuckold of, trying to keep my shit warm at night"—and then, one day, they’re walking through some fucking forest trying to find something to eat…and they come across hot springs. They’d run back and get their tribe and be like, “No but seriously, stop whatever the fuck you’re doing and follow me right now.” And the tribe would clearly set up camp and stay there forever, in their 500th-Century BC luxury crib. Speaking of which…
16) The amount of time humans biologically identical to us have been around. It’s like 100,000 years. I think people think it’s like 10,000.
17) The Radness of America’s Forefathers. People know they were rad. But do they appreciate just how rad they were? No, they’re underratedly rad. They led a successful revolution against the most powerful government in the world while simultaneously inventing democracy and creating the United States of America. Name another group of 50 dudes who have done anything that impressive or monumental.
18) The Grossness of Touching an Earthworm. People, including myself, will pick up an earthworm and be like, “Whatever.” But why? If you were like, “Which hand??” and I was like, “Hmmmm, left??” and you extended your left hand and opened it and dropped a slug into my hand, I’d immediately throw it and then be like, “What the fuck?!” Seriously, think about it—would you ever reach down and pick up a slug? No. But you’d probably be pretty okay picking up an earthworm. Lord knows this guy is—
19) The Badness of Getting a Speeding Ticket. I think people think it’s like four times worse than getting a parking ticket. But here’s what it is: A parking ticket is about $30. A speeding ticket is like $200 or so, plus a point on your license. A point on your license makes your insurance go up like $250 a year for three years. So a speeding ticket actually costs about $1,000 dollars. Making it 30 times worse than a parking ticket. I feel like people don’t realize quite how bad it is to get a speeding ticket.
20) A Hot Shower. Worse than sex. But less worse than people acknowledge.
21) Velcro. So incredibly brilliant. The zipper and bicycle almost made the list too, but I feel like people tend to better appreciate the brilliance of those inventions.
22) The Fact That You Can See Stars With Your Naked Eye. People are always like, “This eagle has amazing sight and can see a grasshopper from across a football field!” A football field? You can see things that are BILLIONS OF LIGHTYEARS AWAY you dick.
23) The Coolness of The Golden Ratio. It’s found everywhere. From several places on the human body to pine cones to seashells to galaxies to the Pyramids to Mozart’s music. I feel like people don’t talk about this enough.
24) The Size of Kazakhstan. Check that shit out. It's about the same size as India. Did you have any idea?
25) Hands. Anytime I’m in a bad mood, I stop to appreciate my hands, and I feel better. Hands are so impossibly useful it’s hard to believe they’re real. I’ll let Steven Pinker take this one over for me:
Nearly two thousand years ago, the Greek physician Galen pointed out the exquisite natural engineering behind the human hand. It is a single tool that manipulates objects of an astonishing range of sizes, shapes, and weights, from a log to a millet seed. “Man handles them all,” Galen noted, “as well as if his hands had been made for the sake of each one of them alone.” The hand can be configured into a hook grip (to lift a pail), a scissors grip (to hold a cigarette), a five-jaw chuck (to lift a coaster), a three-jaw chuck (to hold a pencil), a two-jaw pad-to-pad chuck (to thread a needle), a two-jaw pad-to-side chuck (to turn a key), a squeeze grip (to hold a hammer), a disc grip (to open a jar), and a spherical grip (to hold a ball). Each grip needs a precise combination of muscle tensions that mold the hand into the right shape and keep it there as the load tries to bend it back. Think of lifting a milk carton. Too loose a grasp, and you drop it; too tight, and you crush it; and with some gentle rocking, you can even use the tugging on your fingertips as a gauge of how much milk is inside!
Meanwhile, my hands just danced around this keyboard to type that. When all else sucks, at least your hands are incredible.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Some New Best Friends
I know, it's been awhile. I'm moving apartments, moving offices and building out the new one, planning to move cities, hosting various international visitors, and playing the C Game on Sporcle (40), all while in the midst of the always-insane tutoring company spring. Not a calm time.
To add to that, because I'm moving to a new apartment and soon after, a probably-small New York apartment-- I need to sell all my stuff. And I have a lot of stuff.
See, I'm a pack rat. I like buying stuff I don't need. And I hate throwing things away. The result is stuff. A lot of stuff. And it's time to get rid of it.
I need to get rid of my all my furniture, kitchen stuff, useless old clothes, my beloved piano, and everything else I've accumulated over the past five years. All I want to keep is my computer / keyboard / music-making equipment, the 12 items of clothes I actually wear, and my books.
So I've been trying to figure out how to sell all of this. eBay would probably work, but I'm frightened of eBay, I've never been there, and I don't know how to do it. So that left me with Craigslist. I posted a bunch of ads a few days ago, and one of two things ensued with each of the various ads:
1) I'd get no bites at all because the price I set was too high.
2) I'd get a bite and panic that it was because the price was too low and tell the prospective buyer that it was no longer available.
So we're off to a rough start. But there has been a bright spot:
Some of the higher-priced items I've posted have caught the eyes of various scammers.
I don't know who they are or where they are or exactly what the scam is, but it goes like this:
Now you might remember how much I enjoy interacting with people trying to sell me something over the phone, and these new scammers have suddenly provided me with a whole new group of friends. Below is a sampling of my recent email interactions:
Jenifer Smith (:
Hello,
Am interested in purchasing your item,let me know if its still
available for sale. Thanks and get to me as soon as possible.
Me (thinking it's legit):
Still available. You can come by and check it out tomorrow if you're interested. Call me for more info.
Thanks,
Tim
Jenifer:
Thanks for getting back to me, i prefer emailing while dealing on
craigslist for a record purpsoe Moreover,i want you to aware that am
presently not in the States to complete the transaction in person and
also want you to know that am sending this item to a colleague for an
important purpose.I will be responsible for all shipping expenses
overnight via FEDEX ,so i will add $100 for shipping cost......and i
will prefer paying for the item via PayPal, so Kindly get back to me
with your PayPal email Address so that i can send the payment to you
as soon as possible.
Regards,
Jenifer
Me (now knowing it's a scam):
PayPal? What's PayPal? Sounds awfully naughty.
Jenifer:
I really understand your concern but i want you to know that am out
here on an official duty ...I would have prefer to do this in person
but no way i can meet up now...For your payment,i want you to know
that paypal is safe and secure mean to complete a transaction of this
nature.With paypal,you need not to give out your personal information
for you to get paid,you can visit www.paypal.com to know better about
the service and sign up there.It is easy signing up.
Thanks and get to me ASAP. I will give it as a gift.
Me:
A gift! A gift for whom? And what is the occasion?
Jenifer:
My friend,for Birthday.
Me:
Nice! How old?
Jenifer:
35 years.
Me:
Old! Is there a party? Is the watch going to be your gift?
Jenifer:
Yes the watch need to be gift wrap.
Me:
What color wrapping would you prefer? I have yellow. And the funny pages!
___________
And that's where Jenifer and I are at the moment. Here's another:
Kay Max (kaysquare03@googlemail.com):
Hello,
Would like to know if the item is still available for sale and what is its
present condition? Am interested in its purchase.
Await Your Response..
Kay...
Me:
Hi Kay,
It's in excellent condition-- you can come by tomorrow to check it out.
Thanks,
Tim
Kay:
Hello,
Thanks for the swift response, just to let you know that am okay with
the condition and price of the item, am ready for its purchase and my
form of payment will be by sending you Check via UPS next day
delivery.
Pls take the item off craigslist so no other buyer can ask about
it.I'll be responsible for the pick-up as i have a pick company to
schedule an appropriate time for the pick-up at your location after
check has been cashed.
I would have really love to come for the viewing but due to my work
frame that might not be possible.
Please do get back to me with your full name and address including
your cell and land number so i can make out payment.
Regards.
Kay...
Me:
Thanks, Kay. My address is:
257,203,825 Slippery Circle
Dusty Trail, Idaho 93339
Kay:
Hi ,how was your day ?I want you to understand that the deal is on and
my secretary as posted the payment promptly, but there was a little
problem which i guess we can handle with care. i contacted her to
confirm if the payment as been mail out but she said my boss issued a
single check of $3,600 for your item and other items bought.The payment
was already posted before i was informed. but i wouldn't want
this to delay the sale. All you have to do once you have the payment is to
have it cashed and you will deduct the money for your item plus $50
for your running around. The excess fund on the payment will then be
wired to my mover via Moneygram or western union that same day so he
can come for pick up as i already plan on using the
excess on the payment to offset the cost of the various shipments he
as undertaken on my behalf.Do let me know if i can trust you to have
the excess sent to my mover thank you.
best Regards.
Kay...
Me:
Kay! I swear, if your head weren't attached to your confounded shoulders, you would have lost IT by now!!
___________
I am yet to hear back from Kay. Here's one more:
Thomas Scott:
Hey there, how as your day been? I saw your advert on craigslist and i
will like know if its still available to sale or sold out..
Thanks
Thomas .S.Todd
Me:
Still available. If you'd like to come by and see it, let me know.
Thanks,
Tim
Thomas:
In regards to your response I'll like to buy it as gift for my kid so I'll like to know the current condition of the item! actually i supposed to come and check it but im currently busy this month with my work and i want to send it to my kids schooling in Jiangxi China and for the payment i will pay you via paypal also i'll include $120 for the shipping via USPS PRIORITY MAIL INTL. so you can get back to me with your paypal email address so that i can proceed with the payment at once.
Reply Asap.
Thomas
Me:
Paypal? What the devil is paypal?
Thomas:
It is a method of payment which you will have to sign up for an
account with a credit card or your bank account and just get back to
me with your paypal email id so i can issue out the payment and paypal
will credit your account after you got the confirmation mail that i
have issue out the payment.
Me:
Sounds mad complicated. You're a squeaky fella, aren't you Thomas?
Thomas:
Am not in state and paypal is safe and secured so send me your paypal email id for the payment.
Me:
So where are you? Somewhere lively I sure do hope!
Thomas:
Am in uk for a business as i have told you and i want to send the item
to my daughter so send me your paypal email id for the payment.
Me:
Daughter, eh? Growl! Pic?
___________
Unfortunately, I am yet to hear back from Thomas. Finally, one of my new friends decided to gchat with me today:
To add to that, because I'm moving to a new apartment and soon after, a probably-small New York apartment-- I need to sell all my stuff. And I have a lot of stuff.
See, I'm a pack rat. I like buying stuff I don't need. And I hate throwing things away. The result is stuff. A lot of stuff. And it's time to get rid of it.
I need to get rid of my all my furniture, kitchen stuff, useless old clothes, my beloved piano, and everything else I've accumulated over the past five years. All I want to keep is my computer / keyboard / music-making equipment, the 12 items of clothes I actually wear, and my books.
So I've been trying to figure out how to sell all of this. eBay would probably work, but I'm frightened of eBay, I've never been there, and I don't know how to do it. So that left me with Craigslist. I posted a bunch of ads a few days ago, and one of two things ensued with each of the various ads:
1) I'd get no bites at all because the price I set was too high.
2) I'd get a bite and panic that it was because the price was too low and tell the prospective buyer that it was no longer available.
So we're off to a rough start. But there has been a bright spot:
Some of the higher-priced items I've posted have caught the eyes of various scammers.
I don't know who they are or where they are or exactly what the scam is, but it goes like this:
- They email and ask if the item is still available
- When I say yes, they say they want to buy it and since they are in a foreign country at the moment they will trust my word that it's in good condition and send me the money via PayPal.
- Then, supposedly, they will send their "mover" to my apartment to pick up the item-- and only after I have received the money.
Now you might remember how much I enjoy interacting with people trying to sell me something over the phone, and these new scammers have suddenly provided me with a whole new group of friends. Below is a sampling of my recent email interactions:
Jenifer Smith (
Hello,
Am interested in purchasing your item,let me know if its still
available for sale. Thanks and get to me as soon as possible.
Me (thinking it's legit):
Still available. You can come by and check it out tomorrow if you're interested. Call me for more info.
Thanks,
Tim
Jenifer:
Thanks for getting back to me, i prefer emailing while dealing on
craigslist for a record purpsoe Moreover,i want you to aware that am
presently not in the States to complete the transaction in person and
also want you to know that am sending this item to a colleague for an
important purpose.I will be responsible for all shipping expenses
overnight via FEDEX ,so i will add $100 for shipping cost......and i
will prefer paying for the item via PayPal, so Kindly get back to me
with your PayPal email Address so that i can send the payment to you
as soon as possible.
Regards,
Jenifer
Me (now knowing it's a scam):
PayPal? What's PayPal? Sounds awfully naughty.
Jenifer:
I really understand your concern but i want you to know that am out
here on an official duty ...I would have prefer to do this in person
but no way i can meet up now...For your payment,i want you to know
that paypal is safe and secure mean to complete a transaction of this
nature.With paypal,you need not to give out your personal information
for you to get paid,you can visit www.paypal.com to know better about
the service and sign up there.It is easy signing up.
Thanks and get to me ASAP. I will give it as a gift.
Me:
A gift! A gift for whom? And what is the occasion?
Jenifer:
My friend,for Birthday.
Me:
Nice! How old?
Jenifer:
35 years.
Me:
Old! Is there a party? Is the watch going to be your gift?
Jenifer:
Yes the watch need to be gift wrap.
Me:
What color wrapping would you prefer? I have yellow. And the funny pages!
___________
And that's where Jenifer and I are at the moment. Here's another:
Kay Max (kaysquare03@googlemail.com):
Hello,
Would like to know if the item is still available for sale and what is its
present condition? Am interested in its purchase.
Await Your Response..
Kay...
Me:
Hi Kay,
It's in excellent condition-- you can come by tomorrow to check it out.
Thanks,
Tim
Kay:
Hello,
Thanks for the swift response, just to let you know that am okay with
the condition and price of the item, am ready for its purchase and my
form of payment will be by sending you Check via UPS next day
delivery.
Pls take the item off craigslist so no other buyer can ask about
it.I'll be responsible for the pick-up as i have a pick company to
schedule an appropriate time for the pick-up at your location after
check has been cashed.
I would have really love to come for the viewing but due to my work
frame that might not be possible.
Please do get back to me with your full name and address including
your cell and land number so i can make out payment.
Regards.
Kay...
Me:
Thanks, Kay. My address is:
257,203,825 Slippery Circle
Dusty Trail, Idaho 93339
Kay:
Hi ,how was your day ?I want you to understand that the deal is on and
my secretary as posted the payment promptly, but there was a little
problem which i guess we can handle with care. i contacted her to
confirm if the payment as been mail out but she said my boss issued a
single check of $3,600 for your item and other items bought.The payment
was already posted before i was informed. but i wouldn't want
this to delay the sale. All you have to do once you have the payment is to
have it cashed and you will deduct the money for your item plus $50
for your running around. The excess fund on the payment will then be
wired to my mover via Moneygram or western union that same day so he
can come for pick up as i already plan on using the
excess on the payment to offset the cost of the various shipments he
as undertaken on my behalf.Do let me know if i can trust you to have
the excess sent to my mover thank you.
best Regards.
Kay...
Me:
Kay! I swear, if your head weren't attached to your confounded shoulders, you would have lost IT by now!!
___________
I am yet to hear back from Kay. Here's one more:
Thomas Scott
Hey there, how as your day been? I saw your advert on craigslist and i
will like know if its still available to sale or sold out..
Thanks
Thomas .S.Todd
Me:
Still available. If you'd like to come by and see it, let me know.
Thanks,
Tim
Thomas:
In regards to your response I'll like to buy it as gift for my kid so I'll like to know the current condition of the item! actually i supposed to come and check it but im currently busy this month with my work and i want to send it to my kids schooling in Jiangxi China and for the payment i will pay you via paypal also i'll include $120 for the shipping via USPS PRIORITY MAIL INTL. so you can get back to me with your paypal email address so that i can proceed with the payment at once.
Reply Asap.
Thomas
Me:
Paypal? What the devil is paypal?
Thomas:
It is a method of payment which you will have to sign up for an
account with a credit card or your bank account and just get back to
me with your paypal email id so i can issue out the payment and paypal
will credit your account after you got the confirmation mail that i
have issue out the payment.
Me:
Sounds mad complicated. You're a squeaky fella, aren't you Thomas?
Thomas:
Am not in state and paypal is safe and secured so send me your paypal email id for the payment.
Me:
So where are you? Somewhere lively I sure do hope!
Thomas:
Am in uk for a business as i have told you and i want to send the item
to my daughter so send me your paypal email id for the payment.
Me:
Daughter, eh? Growl! Pic?
___________
Unfortunately, I am yet to hear back from Thomas. Finally, one of my new friends decided to gchat with me today:
12:10 AM kelvincollins2004: Hi
12:12 AM me: howdy
12:13 AM kelvincollins2004: Am the buyer to your item on craigslist
12:14 AM me: duh. which item?
kelvincollins2004: Movado Watch
12:15 AM me: you like movados?
are you a big watch guy?
kelvincollins2004: what do you mean
me: are you really into watches?
do you know about all the different kinds of movados?
kelvincollins2004: No i want to buy it for my son
12:16 AM me: is he into watches?
i have a couple that could work for him
how old is he?
kelvincollins2004: 21 years
me: oh, he's out drinking and getting laid for sure!
kelvincollins2004: so send me your paypal email id so i can issue out the payment for the watch
me: and what type of watches does he like?
12:17 AM i have a few different ones
kelvincollins2004: the watch listed on craislist
me: we should figure out which one is best for him
there are a few i put on craigslist
i'm selling a sporty one
and a more sassy one
and another that screams to the world, "i'm good enough."
and another that screams to the world, "i'm good enough."
kelvincollins2004: Ok
12:18 AM send me your paypal email id so i can issue out the payment
me: oh kelvin you rascal
kelvincollins2004: bye for now me: lates kelvincollins2004: ok
will be waiting for your paypal email id in my email box
12:19 AM me: with baited breath no doubt!
_____________
At this point, I have so many new friends, I don't know what to do with them all. I may have to throw a party for everyone.
At this point, I have so many new friends, I don't know what to do with them all. I may have to throw a party for everyone.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Cricket Chirpings
I must say, a cricket infestation can provide some irony.
I would be uncomfortable with almost any insect infestation, since insects are terrifying, but at the moment the building in which I work has become home to a family of local crickets—which is just weird.
Right now it's late—about 10pm—and I'm the only person in the building. I wouldn't normally be so aware of my solitude—except the sound of chirping crickets is making me feel like I'm in the middle of the Siberian wilderness with no one around for hundreds of miles. Crickets are the only bugs that come with an ambiance.
And since these fucking bugs are actually putting me in a reflective mood, it seems like a fitting time for some Tuesday night items:
-After a prolonged period of time during which Winston was at a friend’s house (a larger tortoise named Nate), he and I reunited over the weekend. In celebration, I took Winston to the beach on Sunday so we could enjoy the sun together. We found a little park area and I placed him on the ground while I peered out upon the ocean. Winston, as he tends to, moseyed away. Within a few minutes, a crowd of tourists had gathered around Winston and had begun taking photos. I had no idea his freezedancing video had made him so famous, but here was proof—Winston was a genuine celebrity. The crowd seemed to think that Winston was a wild tortoise, and even discussed “putting him back in the ocean” (where he would drown) before I walked over and explained that Winston was not a wild tortoise but, rather, my life partner. Eventually, the crowd dissipated, and once again I turned my attention elsewhere. And again, Winston moseyed his own way. Within a couple minutes, I turned to see the little A-lister surrounded by a new crowd of photo-happy tourists and paparazzi. This cycle went on for quite some time. By the time we left the beach, Winston's ego was swelling.
-I can’t believe that “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side” has had the run that it has. It might be the most famous joke of all time. The guy who came up with it is definitely like, “Wait, really?” It would be like “Mary Had a Little Lamb” being the most famous song of all time. Oh wait…
-I think I enjoy the act of typing. It hit me the other day when I needed to type a paragraph from a sheet of paper into a document in my computer, and I realized while doing so that I was having fun.
-I like the NBA playoffs. And unlike the baseball or football playoffs, I can enjoy them casually. One of the announcers on one of the games I was watching made a reference to the famous Michael Jordan “flu game,” when Jordan put up a monster performance while sick. Which made me think of Michael Jordan being ill—which is just kind of weird and funny. Isn’t it kind of weird to picture Michael Jordan sipping hot tea in bed or putting a thermometer in his mouth or throwing up? Other people I find amusement in picturing sick and throwing up:
-This pirate story fascinates me. Not the hijacking or the American hostage who was saved—I’m completely riveted by the fact that they got an actual pirate in custody and he’s in the States now on trial. And maybe I should hate him since he’s a criminal who held an American hostage—but I just don’t. He’s a 15-year-old Somali pirate. Could anyone be more interesting? What I really want is 60 Minutes to do a whole piece on this guy and interview him with a translator about his entire life and what the life of a Somali pirate is like. Actually, I want more—I want an E! True Hollywood Story on this guy. I want to know everything. I want him to write an autobiography (which would obviously be called Yaarr, Me Somali Sea Crimes).
-This site is incredibly fun and addictive. Start with the “popular” ones on the right side of the front page, and after your time runs out on each one, click on “most missed” to see how you compare against everyone else who did it. Hours of my life.
-Delicious:
I would be uncomfortable with almost any insect infestation, since insects are terrifying, but at the moment the building in which I work has become home to a family of local crickets—which is just weird.
Right now it's late—about 10pm—and I'm the only person in the building. I wouldn't normally be so aware of my solitude—except the sound of chirping crickets is making me feel like I'm in the middle of the Siberian wilderness with no one around for hundreds of miles. Crickets are the only bugs that come with an ambiance.
And since these fucking bugs are actually putting me in a reflective mood, it seems like a fitting time for some Tuesday night items:
-After a prolonged period of time during which Winston was at a friend’s house (a larger tortoise named Nate), he and I reunited over the weekend. In celebration, I took Winston to the beach on Sunday so we could enjoy the sun together. We found a little park area and I placed him on the ground while I peered out upon the ocean. Winston, as he tends to, moseyed away. Within a few minutes, a crowd of tourists had gathered around Winston and had begun taking photos. I had no idea his freezedancing video had made him so famous, but here was proof—Winston was a genuine celebrity. The crowd seemed to think that Winston was a wild tortoise, and even discussed “putting him back in the ocean” (where he would drown) before I walked over and explained that Winston was not a wild tortoise but, rather, my life partner. Eventually, the crowd dissipated, and once again I turned my attention elsewhere. And again, Winston moseyed his own way. Within a couple minutes, I turned to see the little A-lister surrounded by a new crowd of photo-happy tourists and paparazzi. This cycle went on for quite some time. By the time we left the beach, Winston's ego was swelling.
-I can’t believe that “Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side” has had the run that it has. It might be the most famous joke of all time. The guy who came up with it is definitely like, “Wait, really?” It would be like “Mary Had a Little Lamb” being the most famous song of all time. Oh wait…
-I think I enjoy the act of typing. It hit me the other day when I needed to type a paragraph from a sheet of paper into a document in my computer, and I realized while doing so that I was having fun.
-I like the NBA playoffs. And unlike the baseball or football playoffs, I can enjoy them casually. One of the announcers on one of the games I was watching made a reference to the famous Michael Jordan “flu game,” when Jordan put up a monster performance while sick. Which made me think of Michael Jordan being ill—which is just kind of weird and funny. Isn’t it kind of weird to picture Michael Jordan sipping hot tea in bed or putting a thermometer in his mouth or throwing up? Other people I find amusement in picturing sick and throwing up:
- Ghandi
- Arnold Schwarzenegger
- Queen Elizabeth
-This pirate story fascinates me. Not the hijacking or the American hostage who was saved—I’m completely riveted by the fact that they got an actual pirate in custody and he’s in the States now on trial. And maybe I should hate him since he’s a criminal who held an American hostage—but I just don’t. He’s a 15-year-old Somali pirate. Could anyone be more interesting? What I really want is 60 Minutes to do a whole piece on this guy and interview him with a translator about his entire life and what the life of a Somali pirate is like. Actually, I want more—I want an E! True Hollywood Story on this guy. I want to know everything. I want him to write an autobiography (which would obviously be called Yaarr, Me Somali Sea Crimes).
-This site is incredibly fun and addictive. Start with the “popular” ones on the right side of the front page, and after your time runs out on each one, click on “most missed” to see how you compare against everyone else who did it. Hours of my life.
-Delicious:
Friday, April 10, 2009
Nine Days on Jupiter
On Friday, March 26th, I finished up at my office, headed to the grocery store, and then walked into my apartment, closed the door, closed the curtains, disconnected the internet, unplugged the TV, turned off my cell phone, disconnected my land line, and didn't come out until Sunday, April 5th.
For nine days, I had no human interaction whatsoever and no knowledge of the world going on outside my apartment.
I didn't read, or exercise, or do a crossword puzzle. There was one activity:
Music. It would be an extended period of time to work on music without any possible distractions.
So I went to (what might as well have been) Jupiter for nine days.
I got the idea from my friend Danny—a lawyer by day and a screenwriter by night— who did a similar thing recently to work on a screenplay. Danny swore by the experience, saying it was an amazing week in itself, and that the isolation put his mind in this bizarre state that did great things for his creativity. Upon hearing about this, I immediately decided to do it myself and marked off the last week of March in my calendar.
It's just a week, I thought. Why the hell not?
And so, on March 26th, I completely disconnected from the world. It was like putting life on pause for nine days.
Some thoughts about the experience:
For nine days, I had no human interaction whatsoever and no knowledge of the world going on outside my apartment.
I didn't read, or exercise, or do a crossword puzzle. There was one activity:
Music. It would be an extended period of time to work on music without any possible distractions.
So I went to (what might as well have been) Jupiter for nine days.
I got the idea from my friend Danny—a lawyer by day and a screenwriter by night— who did a similar thing recently to work on a screenplay. Danny swore by the experience, saying it was an amazing week in itself, and that the isolation put his mind in this bizarre state that did great things for his creativity. Upon hearing about this, I immediately decided to do it myself and marked off the last week of March in my calendar.
It's just a week, I thought. Why the hell not?
And so, on March 26th, I completely disconnected from the world. It was like putting life on pause for nine days.
Some thoughts about the experience:
- I was truly disconnected—there was no way for me to know about anything that was going on in the outside world other than a local earthquake. And there was no way anyone could have possibly reached me. Andrew "The Body" Finn had a key to my apartment, only to be used in the direst emergency.
- "But," you're thinking, "how did you post a blog entry on Monday, March 30th if you were disconnected with no internet?" Good question. I wrote that entry beforehand and had a friend post it. It was the only option-- there was no way I was violating the "rules" during this week and connecting to the internet, but there was also no way in hell I was neglecting my 10,000th day.
- I was rarely hungry. Around 2pm I'd usually eat a meal, and that tended to be about it. When you don't really move, I guess you don't really get hungry. I lost 10 pounds during the week.
- One of the most jarring things was the inability to procrastinate. I would be working on something and feel the inevitable impulse to procrastinate—except there was no way to do so. The only possible activities away from the piano were eating, sleeping, and looking at the wall. And since I wasn’t usually hungry, and sleeping and looking at the wall are both ridiculously boring, I would just shrug and get back to what I was doing. After the first few days, the normally regular procrastination impulse calmed down considerably.
- The urge to turn on my phone, internet, or TV, or communicate with people in any way, eased too with time. Eventually, I fell into this pleasant acceptance of the loneliness, lack of options, lack of stimulation, and the general simplicity of my existence. This was cool—with the decreased impulses to need stimulation came many fewer thoughts, almost no stress or anxiety, and an unusually high level of clarity in thinking about my own life and priorities. Sorry to get all Buddhist on you, but it was a very new experience for a classic thinker and mover.
- Musically, there were three components—writing music, listening to music to open up creativity, and playing Clair de Lune. Regarding the latter, I haven’t worked my way through the sheet music of a challenging piece since I was about 12, and didn’t plan on doing anything of the sort while in my chamber of solitude. But while leafing through a shelf of music stuff, I came upon the sheet music—my sister had given it to me years ago—and ended up spending dozens of hours throughout the week battling through it. Upon emergence on Sunday, I had it down. This is something I never would have had the time or commitment to do normally.
- As for my own composing, I found myself writing in something different than my normal style. If you’ve heard tracks from my first album, it can be pretty heavy and serious (you can hear it here, and it's cheaper to buy on this site than on iTunes). The style of the week of isolation turned out to be this lighter, almost “quaint” sound. I can't tell you why. But I went with it. I’ve posted two of the better and more complete things from the week below (if possible, listen with headphones since they're not yet mixed for speakers).
- Upon emergence on Sunday, I was pretty weird. I went outside to take a walk and ended up staring at a bush with flowers and bees bouncing around it—utterly fascinated—for quite some time. By Monday, I was back in my office and things returned pretty much to normal. Though it’s impossible to really hold onto the inner and outer simplicity I got to enjoy for nine days, it would be a good goal to at least learn to bring some element of that into normal life.
Monday, March 30, 2009
10,000 Days
Today is my 10,000th day.
People are obsessed with how many times they’ve circled the sun. I’ve circled the sun a little over 27 times.
But whatever. Who cares about the dumb sun? I’m far more concerned with how many times I’ve spun around on this silly planet.
And today, I’m spinning around for the 10,000th time.
Unless you live until you’re 109, you’ll only experience three major birthdays—10,000, 20,000, and 30,000. So believe me—I'm gonna soak up every minute of it.
Now in an ironic twist I’ll be spending my 10,000th day entirely alone, without so much as setting eyes on another human being. This was not intentional. But more on that another time.
Anyway, please check with me to make sure you have my correct address on file, because I have not received your cards or gifts.
People are obsessed with how many times they’ve circled the sun. I’ve circled the sun a little over 27 times.
But whatever. Who cares about the dumb sun? I’m far more concerned with how many times I’ve spun around on this silly planet.
And today, I’m spinning around for the 10,000th time.
Unless you live until you’re 109, you’ll only experience three major birthdays—10,000, 20,000, and 30,000. So believe me—I'm gonna soak up every minute of it.
Now in an ironic twist I’ll be spending my 10,000th day entirely alone, without so much as setting eyes on another human being. This was not intentional. But more on that another time.
Anyway, please check with me to make sure you have my correct address on file, because I have not received your cards or gifts.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
69 Things That Annoy Me
When I was in high school, I made a list of “100 Things That Annoy Me.” It was a thorough and expansive list, covering everything from “Cottage cheese” to “When The X-Files are too scary.” It was, in a way, a prelude to this blog—a way for me to get some important things off my chest while also lashing out at people I didn’t like without giving them a chance for a comeback of any kind. The list had a good run and made its rounds through the school until I finally got in trouble for making fun of the 103-year-old language lab teacher in one of the items.
Anyway, in the 11 years since I penned that list, things have continued to annoy me. And so it’s time to vent once again. In no particular order, here are 69 things that currently annoy me:
When people from New York refer to New York as “the city” when they’re not in New York.
When I’m playing Hearts and someone neatly stacks their “tricks” as if we’re playing Spades.
The whole “Tim is typing…” / “Tim has entered text” thing in gmail chat. It’s very intrusive and makes me feel extremely self-conscious. If I start writing a funny response but come up with something funnier while writing it and delete what I have and change it, the person I’m writing to is like, “This d-bag is crafting his response right now.”
The adjective “spiffy.”
When I’m watching a YouTube video and I click the time-bar to skip to somewhere in the middle of the video and instead of going to exactly where I clicked it goes to a pre-set midpoint within the video.
The fact that every airline website in the world defaults to “one adult” when you’re booking a ticket—except JetBlue. JetBlue defaults to zero adults, so I always click “book flight” and it prompts me to “enter the number of passengers.” This is my one and only complaint about JetBlue—but it’s a big one.
Joe Lieberman’s face.
When I park next to a high curb, and the person in the passenger seat opens the door and it scrapes hideously against the sidewalk. Then it’s jammed and I have to drive a few inches forward so they can close the door, wasting a tiny bit of gas.
All Taco Bell commercials.
Poetry analysis.
Wet willies. There is almost nothing in the world more annoying.
When everything that everyone says every week on Meet the Press is completely predictable and partisan.
When I’m watching a TV show and before every commercial, they do the whole “Coming Up…” montage. Stop fucking worrying—I’m not going to change the channel. Especially since I’m watching it on TiVo. I’ll watch what’s “coming up” as it actually happens—I don’t need a preview. All this preview does is make what’s coming up more predictable and less fun to watch. And this goes for movie trailers as well. In a movie theater, I love the “previews” as much as the next guy, but I can’t see a trailer too close to when I see the movie or the movie will be ruined. This is most obvious when you see a trailer for a movie after seeing the movie, and you’re like, “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t see that before I saw the movie or I would spent the whole first half of the movie just waiting for her to leave her small town and become a government assassin.” Same thing goes for the blurb on the back of books.
The fact that Ann Coulter thinks she is relevant.
Speed bumps.
People who call themselves big sports fans but think that baseball is “boring.”
People who act like huge fans of a professional sports team and talk trash but can’t name most of the players on their own team.
When the car in front of me comes to a complete stop at a four-way stop sign, even though there’s no one else at the intersection. This is one of many examples of people mindlessly obeying rules without thinking rationally about them. If there’s clearly no one else in the intersection, you can just slow down to an almost-stop and then keep going. The point of a four-way stop sign is to create an orderly process when multiple cars have approached the same intersection.
When I work on a piece of music all day while wearing headphones and then play it for someone out of speakers and it suddenly sounds all weird and "off" because I based the whole thing on how it sounded out of headphones.
When Microsoft Word “autocorrects” something even though I don’t want it corrected and the little icon comes up with the lightning bolt and then I can’t get rid of the little icon.
Sasha Vujacic.
When I ask the breakfast waitress for Tabasco sauce after I order my food and she inevitably doesn’t remember to bring it.
Girls who are really hurt if you actually need some space while sleeping and you don’t want to be in a full embrace throughout the night when you share a bed with them.
Bikers in the street. There’s gotta be a better way to do this. I guess the sidewalk isn’t a great place for bikers, but the middle of the street isn’t okay.
Sean Penn.
Adam Lambert.
Jimmy Fallon, especially when he says anything about baseball.
When someone sends me a text message and I can’t really tell if it’s a mass text or if they sent it just to me. If it was a mass text but I assume wrong and respond as if it were just to me, I’m a huge loser. And if they did send it just to me and I don’t respond because I assume it was sent to multiple people, I’m an asshole.
Places with bad street signs. The US tends to be pretty good about street signs. But nothing makes me more frustrated than foreign cities with terrible street signage.
Americans who say the names of Latin-American countries and cities with the correct Latin-American accent so people will think they’re cool.
Guys with earrings.
When I get honked at while I’m parallel parking on a busy street because I’m holding things up, even though there’s no better way I could have done this, and I’m going as fast as I can.
Having to say “his or her,” “he or she,” and “him or her.” Or not saying it when you’re supposed to and sounding ungrammatical. My tutoring company website is full of absurd sentences, like, “When the tutor helps the student with his or her homework, he or she can mentor him or her on improving organization as well as his or her understanding of the material.”
People who can’t help themselves and have to make a big deal out of the fact that my phone number’s first three digits are “666” when I give them my phone number.
People who can’t help themselves and have to make a big deal out of the fact that my zip code is 90211 when I give them my address.
People who stop me outside the grocery store and summon me to their stand where they’re collecting donations for a really sympathetic cause, forcing me to feel like a dick when I decline to donate. I’m just doing my thing at the grocery store—buying some peanuts—and they make me feel like an asshole.
When I smile at a baby in public and make funny faces and wave and make a big scene doing all this and the baby just looks away, unimpressed.
When packages are way, way too hard to open. Like plastic-wrapped CDs or a car charger that comes in the plastic packaging that hangs on the little prong on the store wall.
Halloween.
People who criticize me for being annoyed by Halloween.
The passenger window in my car, which closes at the same speed that an hour hand on a clock moves.
When I’m listening to a podcast and a “commercial” comes on and I try to fast-forward through it and accidentally skip to the next track, and I have to go back and spend an hour finding where I was in the podcast.
When I’m driving down the same street as a cop, so I have to drive the speed limit for 15 minutes until one of us turns off the street. While we’re here, I imagine that it’s gotta be pretty annoying to drive around in a cop car, where everyone around you is always driving the exact speed limit.
Guys who throw money around when girls are present so the girls will find them appealing.
Girls who find those guys appealing.
Anything to do with vampires. The concept of vampires is just really annoying. Vampires aren’t funny, they’re not especially scary, they’re not compelling in any way whatsoever. They’re just kind of perverted and gross.
Pennies. I want them to be abolished.
Showers with difficult temperature controls. There are two kinds of showers—those with one grand handle that controls the temperature, and those with two: one for hot and one for cold. With the grand handle, you just put it where you want it and adjust it one way or the other to get it right. When there’s a hot and a cold handle, it’s this complex game you have to play every time you take a shower. You mess around with both of them until you get it right, and then if you want to adjust the temperature mid-shower, you have to first figure out which handle is cold and which is hot—then, you have to figure out which way to turn each handle. I inevitably botch it and have to leap out of the shower because the water is suddenly 140 degrees. And why can’t the handles have some moderation? Why does turning a handle one millimeter have to change the temperature by 10 degrees?
This song.
Stephen Baldwin. If you watched Celebrity Apprentice, you’d agree. Trust me.
People who use ellipses too much in emails and texts. Used correctly, the ellipsis can be intriguing, witty, or exceptionally slutty. But most people who use them overuse them, bathing in an imaginary world in which they’re both important and dramatic.
Bono.
Cheap pens that don’t work.
Everything about MySpace.
You have reached the voice mailbox of 6-1-7---5-5-2---9-1-3-4. At the tone, please record your voice message. At the end of your message, you may hang up, or press 1 for more options. To leave a callback number, press 5. To page this person, press 8-8. If you still want to leave a message for this person, press 2 now. BEEP.
Nancy Pelosi. During Obama’s address to Congress last month, I desperately wanted to clock her in the head with a cantaloupe.
LA hipsters.
When a site on the internet makes you type in the mushy, deformed word to verify that you’re not spam, but the word is so hard to read that you have to try multiple times to get one right.
The name Zachary.
Gas stations that make me pay inside. Then, inside, they inevitably ask me how much gas I want to buy, to which I contentiously answer, “Until it’s full.” We settle things by leaving my card inside until I’m done filling up, forcing me to make a second trip inside, during which I purchase delicious gummies of some kind. Which makes me suddenly think that the main reason those stations make people pay inside is to sell more stuff from their shop. Clever fucking gas station men.
People who blast music at an absurd volume in the car even though they’re above the age of 17.
When I pour the laundry detergent and some dribbles out onto the outside of the bottle.
People who say that the main problem with the iPhone is that there are no actual keys, so typing is hard—when, in fact, typing on the iPhone is ridiculously quick and easy once you’re used to it. While we’re here, Apple just announced all the new innovations that are a part of the next major iPhone software update. And if you don’t think I watched the entire video, you don’t know me all that well.
Howard Dean’s face.
Places that only take cash. The only reason places decide to “only take cash” is to under-pay their taxes. This never used to bother me until I started paying taxes. Now it makes me angry.
Feather pillows that get lopsided when you lie on them so you have to keep flipping them over to have your head on the substantial half. I also hate feather pillows where some of the feathers poke through and prickle you.
People who have no sense of humor about their pets.
The fact that my excellent natural vision is no longer an evolutionary advantage. I have 20/20 vision—and in the old days, I would have had this ridiculous advantage over everyone who doesn’t. I would be the authority on all matters that required a detailed visual understanding. I could have given people $1 bills and told them they were $20's. I could have played Rocks Paper Scissor with someone with bad vision and if they threw a paper and I threw a rock, I could have just told them that I had thrown a scissor. The possibilities would have been endless. Then, glasses came along and the only advantage 20/20 people had was that they didn’t have to look nerdy. Then they even fixed that with contact lenses, leaving my only advantage as being a guy that didn’t have to deal with contact lenses. Then came laser eye surgery, so now the evolutionarily inferior people can just shell out some cash and buy their way onto my level. Other advantages, like being tall, or smart, still hold—but not visual superiority. On a related note, since vision clearly varies amongst the human species, sense of smell probably does too. And if we were dogs, better smelling abilities would be a huge deal—but since we’re people, no one cares or even knows who can smell well and who can’t. I’m going to be very upset if I ever find out that I have a superior sense of smell.
People who make a big deal of it every time the number 69 comes up in ordinary situations.
Anyway, in the 11 years since I penned that list, things have continued to annoy me. And so it’s time to vent once again. In no particular order, here are 69 things that currently annoy me:
When people from New York refer to New York as “the city” when they’re not in New York.
When I’m playing Hearts and someone neatly stacks their “tricks” as if we’re playing Spades.
The whole “Tim is typing…” / “Tim has entered text” thing in gmail chat. It’s very intrusive and makes me feel extremely self-conscious. If I start writing a funny response but come up with something funnier while writing it and delete what I have and change it, the person I’m writing to is like, “This d-bag is crafting his response right now.”
The adjective “spiffy.”
When I’m watching a YouTube video and I click the time-bar to skip to somewhere in the middle of the video and instead of going to exactly where I clicked it goes to a pre-set midpoint within the video.
The fact that every airline website in the world defaults to “one adult” when you’re booking a ticket—except JetBlue. JetBlue defaults to zero adults, so I always click “book flight” and it prompts me to “enter the number of passengers.” This is my one and only complaint about JetBlue—but it’s a big one.
Joe Lieberman’s face.
When I park next to a high curb, and the person in the passenger seat opens the door and it scrapes hideously against the sidewalk. Then it’s jammed and I have to drive a few inches forward so they can close the door, wasting a tiny bit of gas.
All Taco Bell commercials.
Poetry analysis.
Wet willies. There is almost nothing in the world more annoying.
When everything that everyone says every week on Meet the Press is completely predictable and partisan.
When I’m watching a TV show and before every commercial, they do the whole “Coming Up…” montage. Stop fucking worrying—I’m not going to change the channel. Especially since I’m watching it on TiVo. I’ll watch what’s “coming up” as it actually happens—I don’t need a preview. All this preview does is make what’s coming up more predictable and less fun to watch. And this goes for movie trailers as well. In a movie theater, I love the “previews” as much as the next guy, but I can’t see a trailer too close to when I see the movie or the movie will be ruined. This is most obvious when you see a trailer for a movie after seeing the movie, and you’re like, “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t see that before I saw the movie or I would spent the whole first half of the movie just waiting for her to leave her small town and become a government assassin.” Same thing goes for the blurb on the back of books.
The fact that Ann Coulter thinks she is relevant.
Speed bumps.
People who call themselves big sports fans but think that baseball is “boring.”
People who act like huge fans of a professional sports team and talk trash but can’t name most of the players on their own team.
When the car in front of me comes to a complete stop at a four-way stop sign, even though there’s no one else at the intersection. This is one of many examples of people mindlessly obeying rules without thinking rationally about them. If there’s clearly no one else in the intersection, you can just slow down to an almost-stop and then keep going. The point of a four-way stop sign is to create an orderly process when multiple cars have approached the same intersection.
When I work on a piece of music all day while wearing headphones and then play it for someone out of speakers and it suddenly sounds all weird and "off" because I based the whole thing on how it sounded out of headphones.
When Microsoft Word “autocorrects” something even though I don’t want it corrected and the little icon comes up with the lightning bolt and then I can’t get rid of the little icon.
Sasha Vujacic.
When I ask the breakfast waitress for Tabasco sauce after I order my food and she inevitably doesn’t remember to bring it.
Girls who are really hurt if you actually need some space while sleeping and you don’t want to be in a full embrace throughout the night when you share a bed with them.
Bikers in the street. There’s gotta be a better way to do this. I guess the sidewalk isn’t a great place for bikers, but the middle of the street isn’t okay.
Sean Penn.
Adam Lambert.
Jimmy Fallon, especially when he says anything about baseball.
When someone sends me a text message and I can’t really tell if it’s a mass text or if they sent it just to me. If it was a mass text but I assume wrong and respond as if it were just to me, I’m a huge loser. And if they did send it just to me and I don’t respond because I assume it was sent to multiple people, I’m an asshole.
Places with bad street signs. The US tends to be pretty good about street signs. But nothing makes me more frustrated than foreign cities with terrible street signage.
Americans who say the names of Latin-American countries and cities with the correct Latin-American accent so people will think they’re cool.
Guys with earrings.
When I get honked at while I’m parallel parking on a busy street because I’m holding things up, even though there’s no better way I could have done this, and I’m going as fast as I can.
Having to say “his or her,” “he or she,” and “him or her.” Or not saying it when you’re supposed to and sounding ungrammatical. My tutoring company website is full of absurd sentences, like, “When the tutor helps the student with his or her homework, he or she can mentor him or her on improving organization as well as his or her understanding of the material.”
People who can’t help themselves and have to make a big deal out of the fact that my phone number’s first three digits are “666” when I give them my phone number.
People who can’t help themselves and have to make a big deal out of the fact that my zip code is 90211 when I give them my address.
People who stop me outside the grocery store and summon me to their stand where they’re collecting donations for a really sympathetic cause, forcing me to feel like a dick when I decline to donate. I’m just doing my thing at the grocery store—buying some peanuts—and they make me feel like an asshole.
When I smile at a baby in public and make funny faces and wave and make a big scene doing all this and the baby just looks away, unimpressed.
When packages are way, way too hard to open. Like plastic-wrapped CDs or a car charger that comes in the plastic packaging that hangs on the little prong on the store wall.
Halloween.
People who criticize me for being annoyed by Halloween.
The passenger window in my car, which closes at the same speed that an hour hand on a clock moves.
When I’m listening to a podcast and a “commercial” comes on and I try to fast-forward through it and accidentally skip to the next track, and I have to go back and spend an hour finding where I was in the podcast.
When I’m driving down the same street as a cop, so I have to drive the speed limit for 15 minutes until one of us turns off the street. While we’re here, I imagine that it’s gotta be pretty annoying to drive around in a cop car, where everyone around you is always driving the exact speed limit.
Guys who throw money around when girls are present so the girls will find them appealing.
Girls who find those guys appealing.
Anything to do with vampires. The concept of vampires is just really annoying. Vampires aren’t funny, they’re not especially scary, they’re not compelling in any way whatsoever. They’re just kind of perverted and gross.
Pennies. I want them to be abolished.
Showers with difficult temperature controls. There are two kinds of showers—those with one grand handle that controls the temperature, and those with two: one for hot and one for cold. With the grand handle, you just put it where you want it and adjust it one way or the other to get it right. When there’s a hot and a cold handle, it’s this complex game you have to play every time you take a shower. You mess around with both of them until you get it right, and then if you want to adjust the temperature mid-shower, you have to first figure out which handle is cold and which is hot—then, you have to figure out which way to turn each handle. I inevitably botch it and have to leap out of the shower because the water is suddenly 140 degrees. And why can’t the handles have some moderation? Why does turning a handle one millimeter have to change the temperature by 10 degrees?
This song.
Stephen Baldwin. If you watched Celebrity Apprentice, you’d agree. Trust me.
People who use ellipses too much in emails and texts. Used correctly, the ellipsis can be intriguing, witty, or exceptionally slutty. But most people who use them overuse them, bathing in an imaginary world in which they’re both important and dramatic.
Bono.
Cheap pens that don’t work.
Everything about MySpace.
You have reached the voice mailbox of 6-1-7---5-5-2---9-1-3-4. At the tone, please record your voice message. At the end of your message, you may hang up, or press 1 for more options. To leave a callback number, press 5. To page this person, press 8-8. If you still want to leave a message for this person, press 2 now. BEEP.
Nancy Pelosi. During Obama’s address to Congress last month, I desperately wanted to clock her in the head with a cantaloupe.
LA hipsters.
When a site on the internet makes you type in the mushy, deformed word to verify that you’re not spam, but the word is so hard to read that you have to try multiple times to get one right.
The name Zachary.
Gas stations that make me pay inside. Then, inside, they inevitably ask me how much gas I want to buy, to which I contentiously answer, “Until it’s full.” We settle things by leaving my card inside until I’m done filling up, forcing me to make a second trip inside, during which I purchase delicious gummies of some kind. Which makes me suddenly think that the main reason those stations make people pay inside is to sell more stuff from their shop. Clever fucking gas station men.
People who blast music at an absurd volume in the car even though they’re above the age of 17.
When I pour the laundry detergent and some dribbles out onto the outside of the bottle.
People who say that the main problem with the iPhone is that there are no actual keys, so typing is hard—when, in fact, typing on the iPhone is ridiculously quick and easy once you’re used to it. While we’re here, Apple just announced all the new innovations that are a part of the next major iPhone software update. And if you don’t think I watched the entire video, you don’t know me all that well.
Howard Dean’s face.
Places that only take cash. The only reason places decide to “only take cash” is to under-pay their taxes. This never used to bother me until I started paying taxes. Now it makes me angry.
Feather pillows that get lopsided when you lie on them so you have to keep flipping them over to have your head on the substantial half. I also hate feather pillows where some of the feathers poke through and prickle you.
People who have no sense of humor about their pets.
The fact that my excellent natural vision is no longer an evolutionary advantage. I have 20/20 vision—and in the old days, I would have had this ridiculous advantage over everyone who doesn’t. I would be the authority on all matters that required a detailed visual understanding. I could have given people $1 bills and told them they were $20's. I could have played Rocks Paper Scissor with someone with bad vision and if they threw a paper and I threw a rock, I could have just told them that I had thrown a scissor. The possibilities would have been endless. Then, glasses came along and the only advantage 20/20 people had was that they didn’t have to look nerdy. Then they even fixed that with contact lenses, leaving my only advantage as being a guy that didn’t have to deal with contact lenses. Then came laser eye surgery, so now the evolutionarily inferior people can just shell out some cash and buy their way onto my level. Other advantages, like being tall, or smart, still hold—but not visual superiority. On a related note, since vision clearly varies amongst the human species, sense of smell probably does too. And if we were dogs, better smelling abilities would be a huge deal—but since we’re people, no one cares or even knows who can smell well and who can’t. I’m going to be very upset if I ever find out that I have a superior sense of smell.
People who make a big deal of it every time the number 69 comes up in ordinary situations.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Thoughts on New York
I just returned from a week in New York. New York is a silly place. Some observations:
-Manhattan is infested with humans. They’re everywhere. Every coffee shop, restaurant, store, street corner and subway station is crawling with them. I always bug out a little bit when I’m in a place with a ton of humans because each and every one of them has an entire life story to tell—each one with his or her own fears, hopes, insecurities, grudges, loves, secrets, tragedies, triumphs, regrets, plans, talents and deficiencies—and each one is deeply important to several other people out there. Nowhere is this fact crazier than New York.
-The logistics of life are absurdly easy in New York. Anything you want or need, at any hour of the week, is quickly and easily attainable. You can do seven errands in under an hour and usually within a three-block radius. If you ranked every place in the world on a scale of logistical ease, New York would come in first by a mile. Among the bottom five would be Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Western China.
-How does anyone live in New York and have under six pieces of pizza a week? The pizza in LA is bad and the good places are miles away from each other. In New York, heavenly pizza is always within 22 steps from wherever you are standing. How am I supposed to walk by a corner pizza place at 3:30pm, not especially hungry but not especially full either, and not grab a slice?
-I walked more miles in one week in New York than I have in the past three months in LA.
-In LA, if you want to go out on a Friday or Saturday night, you have five options, and all of them are bad:
1) Drink and drive
2) Drink and take $40 of taxis
3) Drink and sleep on someone’s couch
4) Stay sober
5) Force one of your friends to stay sober and drive
#5 is ideal but rarely occurs. At some point I just accepted that a couple thousand dollars of cab money was going to have to be a part of my budget every year, and #2 became my go-to option. But it’s a terrible set of options, and a lot of people end up driving regularly when they’re kind of drunk. This isn’t a problem in New York. Nothing is easier than getting around and meeting up with people on nights out.
-It’s not that everything is that much more expensive in New York than other places—it’s just that I always end up spending way more there than anywhere else. It’s hard to exactly pinpoint where all the money goes. But it goes.
-My friend Ryan took me to the ballet one night. That’s right—my male friend and I went on a special night out to the ballet. I had never been to a ballet before and realized that I had always just assumed that ballet was only something that 10-year-old girls did. But it was this big whole thing—the theater was packed (with humans) and the show was really interesting, if a bit weird. I, of course, was completely out of my element and I appalled a lot of people. First, I was way under-dressed. Then, I brought a sandwich to my seat, which was not received well. Then, at the end of intermission, I came back to my seat late and had to step over everyone and stepped on an old lady’s foot. Still, I enjoyed myself.
-My friend Jesse and I spent an afternoon in Coney Island. We had a plan to hang out and basically looked at the subway map and decided to head somewhere weird. It was pretty interesting, slightly uncomfortable, very Coney, and we capped off the afternoon by having dinner at Wally’s, a local restaurant. I ordered buffalo wings and onion rings and rice and had trouble walking in straight line for the next three hours.
Some other notes:
-Manhattan is infested with humans. They’re everywhere. Every coffee shop, restaurant, store, street corner and subway station is crawling with them. I always bug out a little bit when I’m in a place with a ton of humans because each and every one of them has an entire life story to tell—each one with his or her own fears, hopes, insecurities, grudges, loves, secrets, tragedies, triumphs, regrets, plans, talents and deficiencies—and each one is deeply important to several other people out there. Nowhere is this fact crazier than New York.
-The logistics of life are absurdly easy in New York. Anything you want or need, at any hour of the week, is quickly and easily attainable. You can do seven errands in under an hour and usually within a three-block radius. If you ranked every place in the world on a scale of logistical ease, New York would come in first by a mile. Among the bottom five would be Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Western China.
-How does anyone live in New York and have under six pieces of pizza a week? The pizza in LA is bad and the good places are miles away from each other. In New York, heavenly pizza is always within 22 steps from wherever you are standing. How am I supposed to walk by a corner pizza place at 3:30pm, not especially hungry but not especially full either, and not grab a slice?
-I walked more miles in one week in New York than I have in the past three months in LA.
-In LA, if you want to go out on a Friday or Saturday night, you have five options, and all of them are bad:
1) Drink and drive
2) Drink and take $40 of taxis
3) Drink and sleep on someone’s couch
4) Stay sober
5) Force one of your friends to stay sober and drive
#5 is ideal but rarely occurs. At some point I just accepted that a couple thousand dollars of cab money was going to have to be a part of my budget every year, and #2 became my go-to option. But it’s a terrible set of options, and a lot of people end up driving regularly when they’re kind of drunk. This isn’t a problem in New York. Nothing is easier than getting around and meeting up with people on nights out.
-It’s not that everything is that much more expensive in New York than other places—it’s just that I always end up spending way more there than anywhere else. It’s hard to exactly pinpoint where all the money goes. But it goes.
-My friend Ryan took me to the ballet one night. That’s right—my male friend and I went on a special night out to the ballet. I had never been to a ballet before and realized that I had always just assumed that ballet was only something that 10-year-old girls did. But it was this big whole thing—the theater was packed (with humans) and the show was really interesting, if a bit weird. I, of course, was completely out of my element and I appalled a lot of people. First, I was way under-dressed. Then, I brought a sandwich to my seat, which was not received well. Then, at the end of intermission, I came back to my seat late and had to step over everyone and stepped on an old lady’s foot. Still, I enjoyed myself.
-My friend Jesse and I spent an afternoon in Coney Island. We had a plan to hang out and basically looked at the subway map and decided to head somewhere weird. It was pretty interesting, slightly uncomfortable, very Coney, and we capped off the afternoon by having dinner at Wally’s, a local restaurant. I ordered buffalo wings and onion rings and rice and had trouble walking in straight line for the next three hours.
Some other notes:
- I had a 9:30 appointment this morning and showed up at 10:30. Because the fucking clocks changed and no one told me. Or actually, everyone else’s clocks changed and mine stayed the same. How the hell was I supposed to know that I had entered a different time zone while I was sleeping last night? I said it and I’ll say it again—this is archaic and it needs to stop.
- A couple nights ago, Andrew “The Body” Finn and I participated in a charity fundraiser thing and Scrabble was the gimmick. So Andrew and I were a team against these two women. After dropping QUAGMIRE on them to start the game for 76 points (we passed, hoping they’d play an “I” and they did), they got all the good letters and beat us by 10. Yes, I’m being a sore loser and no, I’m not gonna get over this for a long time. The other highlight of the night was our table getting yelled at for talking during one of the children’s speeches. It brought back wonderful memories of my youth as a class clown.
- I went to a bar last night and had multiple “11% alcohol” beers. Let me just say, beware of 11% beers.
- A friend pointed me to mint.com. You enter all your bank and credit card info and it tracks and categorizes all of your spending automatically. It’s also an aesthetically delicious and incredibly user-friendly site. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
- According to the people, it is officially better to be a guy. Good to know.
- A commenter requested that I post my Celebrity Apprentice recaps from last season. This idiot blog is already robust enough, so I posted them all, along with the ones from my season, on a new blog.
- Finally, this is intensely interesting-- each state is labeled with a country whose GDP is approximately the same as that state's (you might want to click on the photo to see it larger):
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