Let’s Keep It Real. Really Real.
Movies. You know movies. They are those moving pictures that play inside a room that seats around 200 people in plush seating. They are those things that people watch while stuffing their faces with popcorn and sour patch kids (Aside: Those are 2 things people only eat when they are watching a movie or are dead broke. I have yet to hear someone say, “I really want some popcorn!” Ok, I lied. My dad says that, but then 60 percent of the popcorn ends up on his shirt. So he’s more wearing it than eating it. Popcorn suits. Coming to a Sears near you. Dad always has the best ideas.) They are those things that end with some sad song by The Fray or Sigur Ros or some such band that makes you want to crawl under your chair and pass out because that is the same exact song that you heard with her when you noticed each other for the first time, but then it ended when she ran away with the guy that’s in a band with the nice hair and silky smooth voice that wears ironic t shirts that portray how much he doesn’t care which is why she cares so much.
What kind of band name is The Lesbian Brothers anyway?
Movies are also those things that my friends and I continually reference if for no other reason than we are huge, annoying nerds. There has been many a time when we relate a life experience to a movie. In a related note, we have no girlfriends. It is a very man thing to quote movies and say things like “He’s dead the whole time,” and “You know what’s good? Yoohoo with a little rum.” So while I do enjoying watching movies, I also tend to pick out things in movies that annoy and ruin the experience for me.
Dakota Fanning, looking in your direction.
We all know the movie Avatar. If you don’t know it or that James Cameron made billions by making up a language and making everyone look like the Blue Man Group, please go outside and join the universe. Put down the National Geographic and hoping you may see an African woman’s breasts. It’s ok to live. After seeing Avatar, one of my friends asked me how the movie was. My response? I was disgusted that in the movie one of the main characters names was Norm. NORM. Avatar takes place in the year 2154. So while I could suspend my disbelief that Blue people live somewhere or that you can ride a unicorn or that Sam Worthington is a good actor, I couldn’t get over Norm. Does anyone know anyone named Norm in 2010 that is under the age of 50? Anyone? So you’re telling me they went to all this trouble making a new language and went over every detail and no one raised their hand and said, “Hey Jimbo, Norm’s an old school name and by the year 2154 no one is going to have that name, especially a 30 year old guy.”
What was James Cameron thinking? “Oh Norm is a hip name. Look at that guy on Cheers! Everyone knows his name!” Shut up. For the next 2 hours I was so upset that a guy named Norm existed in the year 2154 that I forgot what happened. I think everyone died. Spoiler Alert. Retroactive to the previous sentence.
You may think this is a one-time thing, but here are 3 other movies that still bother me due to the littlest things
War of the Worlds– Tom Cruise is trying to drive from Bayonne, NJ to Boston to get away from aliens. He drives through New York state when the fastest way is through Connecticut. Any east coaster knows this. I turned to my friend and told her this in the theater and she punched me. I then brought it up again and she threw a Junior Mint in my eye. I think my point was made.
Man on Fire – Dakota Fanning speaks like a mid 30s English professor and is basically falling in love with Denzel Washington. One of the creepiest love stories ever written. No one else noticed, but I did. At one point, I audible say, “Just make out already.” I was then told to keep it down or I would be escorted out. I threw a Junior Mint in my own eye.
Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle – As soon as they started their trek to White Castle, I thought it would be the shortest movie of all time. There’s a White Castle right on Route 1 in New Jersey. It’s on the right. Can’t miss it. They missed it. I was appalled. It’s RIGHT THERE. No need to go down to Cherry Hill.
While I’m here, let me tell everyone something. It’s 2010. This movie came out in 2004. When I’m hanging out with an Asian friend and we’re talking about Halloween there’s no need to say, “Hey, you guys should go as Harold and Kumar,” and start laughing profusely like it’s the 1st time anyone’s mentioned it. We get it. It’s the only pop culture reference that pairs an Indian and Asian man and you think you are so brilliant to bring this up. We’ve only heard it 5,781 times (approximate). You don’t see us going up to 2 white people and saying, “Hey you guys should go this Halloween as Joey and Ross from Friends, two totally non- descript people, but hey, you’re both white. GET IT?!!?”
White people have all the cool costumes.
The final nail in the coffin was this past weekend. The lovely Junket and I saw Takers. Aside from it being one of the worst movies made in the history of the universe (that includes Scary Movie 72); it made the biggest mistake of all time (Slight hyperbole. Slight). In the movie, Matt Dillon’s character asks his 12 year old daughter if she wants to get pizza. She says no. I find this to be the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. When I was 12 all my mom had to say was, “Who wants piz…” and I would be running around with my hands in the air like I had no previous trouble in the world. I would be bouncing off walls and pretending I was Macho Man Randy Savage and drop an off the top rope elbow on my unsuspecting brother. All because we were going to have PIZZA. Man’s greatest creation.
Sorry, York Peppermint Patty.
So listen up movies, just fix the little things so I can pay attention. I can get over blue people, some guy blowing everyone up and Neil Patrick Harris being a man whore, but I can’t get over pizza. Let’s remedy the situation and you’ll have me at hello.
The Lesbian Brothers have more work to do.
My Mom Doesn’t Have Twitter. Let’s Rejoice.
I like music. That statement, in and of itself, isn’t scandalous. What would start a bigger conversation would be the statement, “I DON’T like music.” I would say roughly 98 percent (scientific research) of the population of the free world enjoys some type of music. If you were to be in the remaining 2 percent that disliked music there would be a varying amount of questions asked of you. Why don’t you like music? Do you not like hearing emotion in song form? Are you deaf? Are you tired of people telling you to “come on” and “jump around”? Are you upset they weren’t called Milli VanillA? People would start to psychoanalyze you based on that one statement due to how weird it sounds. Who doesn’t like music?
MTV. (Sorry, too easy)
We all talk about how we hate “lame” status messages and “boring” tweets. It’s one of the curses of the internet. Tweeting about how much you hate lame tweets has made you become lame yourself. The circle of life is now complete. Come with me to Freedom! Let’s think about his for a second. One of the pet peeves with Twitter and Facebook are people telling us, “Hey, it’s laundry day!” or “Just took Billy Dog Thornton for a walk!” That we know. It bothers us because we don’t want to know the mundane facts of everyone’s lives. Unless we’re stalking them and want to turn them into our girlfriends with ether, a rag, and Range Rover.
It’s better when it’s unconscious.
There’s an easy fix to all of this. Some of you may be saying the easy thing to do is to not write boring unoriginal thoughts. Yes, we could try doing that, but you have met a lot of people in your life. Most of them are boring, unoriginal and/or related to you. There is no way my mom could write something that was thought-provoking or funny. Let’s look at her fake Twitter timeline
ShortIndoMom
That’s you!
@rsub27 Why are you making fun of your poor mother? About 1 hour ago via ubernagging in reply to rsub27
I need a new phone. Does anyone have the number for AT&T? about 11 hours ago via web
@Singhsfamouspizza My husband likes pizza! about 17 hours ago via web
@rsub27 When you come home make sure you bring a clean shirt. about 23 hours ago via web in reply to rsub27
Just got back from yoga. It’s hard. 3:41 PM Aug 22nd via web
I’m getting so old! 10:00 AM Aug 21st via TweetDeck
See? Not very much fun at all. But how can we change all of these lame tweets and status updates? In one easy way. Make everything negative. Instead of “I’m getting old” just say” I’m NOT getting old.” Say “I hate pizza!” As human beings we are always conditioned to ask why to anything we don’t understand. As with the previous music analogy we are curious to find out what exactly you don’t like about things. You’re getting old? Boring. We all are. You’re NOT getting old? What happened? How is this possible? Are you Benjamin Button? Are you Brad Pitt? Were you given some power by some dude named Jacob on an island where a plane crashed and they could never get off, but somehow could always have gotten off until they died?
Gilligan’s Island reruns.
This is what we need to happen. We don’t need unoriginal people to stop writing, we just need them to write out whatever they wanted to and then have a program change it to the negative. That is what starts discourse nowadays. We need to go against the grain. Also this super program should also be able to take obvious things that no one likes and turn them into something they should like. For example, no one seems to like this Jon Gosselin person. He’s been called a douche, a bozo, a dingbat, and Jon. If someone wrote “I hate Jon Gosselin,” well, that’s pathetic. But change it to I LOVE Jon Gosselin and we’re back in business.
Differing views are what this country has been built on. Just look at George Washington. He wanted to chop down cherry trees. Someone told him cherry trees are stupid, so he became President. I’m pretty sure that’s how it worked. So think to yourself, “Self is this tweet terrible?” If the answer is yes, then just do the opposite. We’ll all be better off and no one will be complaining anymore that their Internet feeds are taken over by everyday tasks.
But could someone buy me a shirt? Mom won’t be happy.
Best Friends, Best Bathrooms, Best Beyonds
Let’s be serious for a second. We could all use better friends. Maybe this is a blanket statement that has no merit since I don’t know each and every one of you outside of your tickling fetishes and Nietzsche collectible sets, but I think it’s true. I mean, we all have GOOD friends, some of us may have GREAT friends or AMAZING friends or MULTIPLE AMPUTEE friends, but we could always use more. Not that being great and being an amputee are mutually exclusive. Look at (insert great amputee person). We live in America, for Pete’s sake, more is in our blood! (Aside: I know this is normally the part I go on a tirade of who this “Pete” person is and why we are “saking” him, but I will refrain today. I like to mix it up. Keep it fresh. Don’t lose that spark) Unless, of course, you don’t live in the US which means this whole point was lost on you.
Lost in Translation.
Boom.
The question is. How good are our friends? There are many things that you can do to test out your relationship with your friends. They call you when they know you’re having a bad day. They make you laugh about silly things like Webster and the movie Hotel Rwanda. When you break up with someone they come over and bring you chicken soup for the soul or some such self-help trash that makes you more depressed. These are what good friends do, but these are not what great friends do. No, there is only one way to know you have a great friend that you will have forever.
They talk to you on the phone when they’re in the bathroom.
Now, some of you may be saying that’s rude, or crappy. (Sorry, too easy. Forgive me father for I have punned.) Not I. I say this is the ultimate sign of respect for anyone. They want to talk to you so badly that they continue to talk to you no matter the circumstance. That is the type of person I want in a bunker with me. For no other reason than they will have a cell phone on them in said bunker and will call other people to let them know the situation.
“What’s up? Nah, just getting hit with artillery from some insurgents. No, I don’t have to go, what’s new with you? Did you see Real Housewives of New Jersey? Danielle, don’t play baby girl!”
BFF. Totes. Forevs.
You see, people who talk to other people in bathrooms don’t care that the other person knows you’re in a bathroom. Hell no! They are proud to be talking to you. Sure the sound bounces off the walls and you just took the person on the other end of the phone to a trip to the pool with the Cosby kids, but so what? Some things just need to be said and can’t wait 30 second, 5 minutes or an hour (I don’t judge). Think about it, the other day at work I was in the bathroom minding my own business because who’s business would you mind in the bathroom?
Don’t answer that.
Anyway, so I was at the urinal and this guy comes barging on in talking on the phone. I try to pay no mind, but hello, we’re in a bathroom so it’s kind of hard not to eavesdrop on the conversation he’s having. Next thing I know, this nice older man is talking about “doctor said months”, “he needs chemo”, “it’s not looking good,” and “Charlie St. Cloud was awful.” I wanted to cry. How could a movie with Zac Efron and dead brother be terrible? Is there no justice in this cruel, cruel world? Critics can be so harsh sometimes when a fabulous actor tries to take on serious roles.
So while this gentleman was talking to whoever he was talking to, I knew he was a great person. No, he didn’t WAIT to tell someone about this person with cancer. He didn’t care that it’s obvious to anyone on the other line that you’re in a bathroom. He decided it was a fantastic idea to make sure this information was told while flushing the urinal. What goes better with a cancer announcement then a tinkle on a urinal cake? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I need to friend him on MySpace.
Top 8.
For sure.
What Women Don’t Want (Sorry)
(note: this is all done tongue firmly planted inside cheek. Also, I don’t know what that phrase means, but it seems apropos. I, also, don’t know what apropos really means, but that also seems apropos. )
I’ve been writing a blog of some kind for almost 3 years. In that time you tend to read other blogs to gain more readers, insight, and hopefully stumble upon a nude picture of Zooey Deschanel. If someone had told me that there would be NO Zooey nude pictures on the webs of Internet the last 3 years I would have quit reading blogs exactly 3 years ago. But we must dream and dance at the thought this could one day happen so we power on with our journey through personal blog land. We stumble upon blogs that make us laugh or some poetry or these weird ones that are written in Chinese about herbal remedies for toe enlargement.
The Chinese are always ahead of us! You know what they say about people with big feet? That’s right.
They’re weird.
The one constant about blogs, though, is that they are mostly written by women. I haven’t done a study on blogs, but I’m willing to bet exactly 93.52 percent of all personal type blogs are written by women. It’s all very scientific. The other 6.48 percent of blogs are written by some combination of men, hermaphrodites, and cats that can’t spell. Seriously, someone get those cats a dictionary. Or at least an ESL teacher. Reading blogs is a great way for men to get into the female psyche. We can find out what women like about us, what they hate about us, and that Nordstrom’s one day sale is finally back.
Tommy Bahama is still in, right?
Since I have gained all this knowledge about women and what they are looking for in men, I have been able to gain tens, nay, at least one date from an actual woman. They are telling us THE SECRETS. Thanks to these secrets I now know the places to NOT ask a woman out or hit on them. Just for the viewing public, I have narrowed down the top 5 places to not ask a woman on a date according to female bloggers. And yes, these have all been said by female bloggers at one time or another.
In no particular order
The Library/Bookstore
A woman’s take
“I’m just at the library/bookstore to read Eat, Pray, Love in silence. I do not want you telling me my hair smells good. Does she find enlightenment in India?!?! I don’t know because your grubby hands are in front of me. Bonus point: If you’re at the library I automatically put you on no job and no money since if you had either you wouldn’t be there. Good luck on those keyboards that chronic masturbators touch.”
Bar
a.)With a group of friends.
A woman’s take
“I’m out with my girl friends! It’s girl’s night out and we don’t want to be fending off advances from these creeps thinking we’re easy pickings since no guys are around. We’re just here to drink and not think about men so get away. You might be a nice guy, but I’m not in the mood. Not tonight.”
b.)With one other friend
A woman’s take
“Listen, weirdo. She just broke up with her boyfriend. Can’t you see she’s in a bad place? I’m just being a good friend and we don’t want you taking away our time together. You’re not going home with her buddy, so give it up. You suck.”
Laundromat
A woman’s take
“I don’t want some stranger seeing my underwear. This isn’t the time to be sneaking up on me with some pickup line you saw from Mystery. I can’t give you my full attention while hiding my fat pants from you. Also, don’t attempt to help me carry my laundry, I’m a woman. Not a midget.”
At the park
A woman’s take
“You see I’m at the park on a run. I’m sweaty, I’m gross, and I haven’t put on any makeup. I don’t want anyone coming within 40 feet of me let alone asking me out to the Hollywood Bowl to see Michael Buble. And DON’T run with me or start running backwards while talking to me. Stop showing off asshat. Also you’re shirt is inside out.”
At The Office
A woman’s take
“I’m at work, dude. I’m trying to save my company millions of dollars and I just want to crank this out and get a drink. And yes if you see me at the bar after work don’t talk to me there either because I’m stressed out and will freak out at every little thing you say. Please see above for “bar””
Now that I know where to not ask out women I’ve gone from being rejected 99 percent of the time to being rejected 0 percent of the time. This probably has something to do with not asking anyone out anymore because I’m terrified and the only two safe havens for meeting someone is jail and the Hollywood sign. But who cares. No more rejections! Suck it World. Eating Pringles on a Saturday night is way better anyway.
Ask the Chinese.
Hands Across America
Handshakes.
It’s the preferred way to meet someone new in the Western world. I’ve never been to Europe, but according to television and Cesare Pavese’s novels, people kiss each other on the cheek in greeting. While this has yet to be adopted by U.S. Americans, I have tried conforming to this. Of course, it ends with one of those awkward kissy kissy things that you see in any romantic comedy when the male lead character meets his female lead’s parents who are inevitable from France or some such country and the male character thinks this is how all Europeans greet each other which leads to awkward stares from the parents and exclamations of “Do you have any grey poupon?”
Note: NO ONE ever has any grey poupon.
The easy part of any greeting is meeting someone new. When you meet someone new you give them a handshake. Cut and Dry. No decisions need to be made. Are we going to go up to strangers at parties and give them soul squeezing hugs and pinch their cheeks? Of course not. We are not our Aunt Marthas. (Aside: Why is it in the blogging community when you want to make a point about a crazy aunt you give them a fashionably old name that will be extinct in 30 plus years? No one ever says, “Man, Aunt Brittany was crazy last night! She drank all the syrup!” No, instead we say things like Aunt Bea, Aunt Tallulah and Aunt Norm. Is this to prove our point that these people are so crazy that they have names that no one will use? If so, point taken. I’ll continue on with Aunt Martha, even though, I would never have an Aunt Martha since I’m Indian, but Aunt Lakshmi doesn’t have that same ring.) The problem actually arises when you’re meeting a person for a second, third or, gasp, 4th time. What is the proper way to greet them?
Not with a “what’s up my soul brother?” This is important. And life saving.
Anytime I run into a person again whether it is at some party or Furry Convention, I never know how to react. If you’re seeing a woman again, do you go for another handshake? Are we comfortable for the hug? I would like her chest area pressed on my chest area because it gives me a better feeling of her…
Let’s move on.
My plan of attack is to stand there uncomfortably and whistle the theme song to Perfect Strangers while she makes her move. Does it get any awkward that putting your hand out and getting a hug? Yes it does, when you go for the hug and she jams her hand into your abdomen area with the force of a World’s Strongest Man keg throwing competition. You may as well die. In fact, I have passed away many times from this only to be revived by a concoction of Corona and abject bitterness.
While that may be awkward for me, the true test of closeness is how men greet and leave other men. Do we do the half hug handshake? The straight handshake with the lock of the fists? (As opposed to the homosexual handshake with the lock of fists. See what I did there?) Just a handshake? I never know what to do so it turns into a dance. You always have one person of the two that is going to do something and the other person will follow, so I thought. I saw one of my roommates from college and after we went out was the goodbye. Now what?!?! So I did the half hug handshake thing thinking it would be the best. Hey, we know each other! Unfortunately, as I went to pull him in for the hug part he was pulling back with the force of two North magnets facing each other. (Polar magnet humor! We’ve finally made it!) So what was supposed to be a nice way to say goodbye turned into a tug of war between two grown men on the street.
More like Tug of Dummies.
Damn, I thought that would work. Oh well.
Yet another encounter ruined by inability to adhere to the rule of handshakes. Never go first. That’s right men. Just go for the normal shake. If it turns into something else then just go with the flow or just do what I do with my friends. Go “Ahhhhh” and just start slapping wildly to make it seem like a big joke when in reality you just showed how uncool you are. So I propose this. Anytime you see someone and you don’t know the proper greeting just say “hi” and stick your hands in your pockets. No pockets? No problem. Chop your hands off. It’ll be easier than doing this “doe si doe.”
Excuse me, just bought a chainsaw and some vicodin.
Patrick Bateman would understand.
Cheap, Easy, and Undateable
(we’re going retro today. I wrote this two years ago. Unfortunately, it’s still relevant. I cry every night)
Dating.
It’s what men and women do before they get “married”, “have monsters sweet precious children”, and “pay exorbitant fees for elaborate weddings.”
We all know dating also extends to men and men, women and women, teacher and student, mom and son’s best friend, horse and woman, horse and man..
This has taken an in interesting turn.
I’m bringing this up since my dating life ramped up after college even though I was living at home and eating Hot Pockets every day for lunch. This meant that I either had no money or really really loved Hot Pockets. I’ll go with both. Because of that, when I went out on “dates” or as I like to call them “Love Interviews”, I had to make sure they were within my budget. Also if any ladies would like to fill out a “Love Interview” here are some sample questions.
1. Name.
11. Are you a woman?
34. Breathing, yes/no.
Since I was a fan of the cheap dates, I saw an article titled “Cheap Dates” and was intrigued. Then when I opened it, I realized it meant cheap as in price and not cheap as in easy. Reading has foiled me again. Let’s go through some of the suggestions with my experiences.
1. Don those matching aprons. Fire up the skillet for a night of cooking — for the both of you.
When I first started dating this girl out of college we ended up cooking together at her apartment. Obviously, we could not cook at my place since my mom would be barging in and asking us when we’re going to get married. Everything was going smoothly when I proceeded to drop a pan of lasagna on the ground. Whoops. Unfortunately, this wasn’t I Love Lucy and a food fight didn’t ensue. Damn you Ricky Ricardo. No, she cried. My two classes of Psychology, one of which I dropped out of, didn’t prepare me for the onslaught of “My life is a mess” tears I heard that night.
Success scale – Kato Kaelin, famous for being not famous.
2. Head to the bookstore. Walk through the aisles together, showing each other your favorite books and bonding over the books you both hated.
I think this would have been a good idea if I didn’t spend 30 minutes at the magazine rack reading what Rolling Stone was saying about Linkin Park. “Kim, they didn’t curse on their whole first album!” When she came back asking her if she bought another “chick romance lit whatever” was not the right move.
Success Scale – Stephen Baldwin , you’ve seen him in things you just don’t want to admit it.
3. Bowl him over at the bowling alley.
I’m super competitive. I may not show it, but I have to win. So the one night we went to the bowling alley I was determined to be champion. After an absolute destruction in the first game (I am a Bowling God!), the second game was much closer. I was up 9 pins in the last frame so my ex just needed a spare or strike to win. On her first roll she got a 7. “Oh god, I’m going down, I might cry, is that ok?” Then she got up to bowl and proceeded to roll a gutter ball. VICTORY! I took that as an opportunity to let her know she choked big time. “Who won? The losers? hahahahaha.” Note: That is not the proper thing to say.
Success Scale- Daughtry, didn’t win the battle, but is winning the war.
4. Show him your rugged side and build something together.
One of the girls I dated bought herself a dresser from Ikea that she needed help putting together. I had actually worked at a furniture company and would have put it together in about 30 minutes. So I head over and realize that she has to do everything herself.
Me- Here let me help (grabs screwdriver)
Her- No I CAN DO IT!
Me- Ok, but I know…
Her- LEAVE ME ALONE!
Romance.
As I watched her struggle for an hour she finally let me help and we put it together. In the process of moving it into position we chipped the bottom of the dresser and cracked the back panel. I got blamed. Women be complaining.
Success Scale – Rembrandt – They only love you when you’re dead.
5. Put on your walking shoes and head to the museum.
We went to a museum, I complained everything in there was either dead or put there by a dead person. It was a real pick me up.
Success Scale – Saturday Night Live from 2003- 2005. – It really wasn’t funny or that enjoyable.
6. Take a class together. Sign up for a class in something neither of you know how to do.
I didn’t actually do this with a girlfriend, but with one of my best friends that was a girl. In college we both took a summer Psychology class to get ahead on our credits. One day she came back from the student square and told me that she saw our teacher and that he hit on her. I said, “Well that’s an A for you.” She complained saying that she wasn’t going to get any preferential treatment. We got the same grades on our quizzes and tests, but had one final paper. My final grade? B+, hers? A. This is the same girl that got a D in an open book math class.
Must be nice to have boobs.
Success Scale- The Boy Who Cried Wolf – He was right, but no one believed him.
7. Celebrate the first snow of winter with a day of sledding.
Went sledding once with myself in front steering and the girl on back holding on. As we go down the hill I realize we are heading straight for a tree. Since she can’t see over me I yell” TREE! ABORT! ABORT!”. I then proceed to jump of the sled while she is still on and she swerves on the sled due to the weight shift and rolls down the hill.
I never talked to her again.
Success Scale – Bill O’Reilly- He makes a lot of money and seems smart, but most people think he’s a dick.
8. Attend an open mic night. Grab a cup of coffee and check out a local coffee shop’s open mic night.
This was actually a pretty good night. We went out saw some horrendous comics and one pretty good girl playing guitar at the end of the night. She was really good. Which made her equally attractive. So I’m looking at her play and my ex sees that I’m paying close attention.
Her- Like what you see?
Me- Yeah she’s really good, her chord prog…
Her – Why are you staring at her chest?
Me- What?
Her- I know you’re checking her out
Me- She’s right in front of me!
Her- Well, guess what, she’s only 15. Pervert.
Me- 15 is the new 24, no? no?
Her – Funny
I did not have relations that night.
I Wear T-Shirts...Sometimes 