Was This a Real Good Time? Nah. Just Faking

November 29, 2009

So I’m at this pretty seedy bar because my friend’s boyfriend is the MC. I’m with my other friend, who’s a pretty new friend to me. That friend was getting harassed by all kinds of drunk a-holes.  I tried to be a decent friend and pretend to be the guy she was with (Well, I was driving).

One guy even asked “Is he your man?” and she said “Um, Yes.”  He asked if it was okay if he danced with her. I said “If she wants to. She’s her own woman, she can make her own decisions.”

And then I got yelled at after that for being a bad fake boyfriend.  What the hell?

Any woman I am in a relationship can make her own decisions. I’m not going to flip out if she dances at a bar with someone, because I really don’t like to dance. If she WANTED to dance, and I didn’t, she can dance with whomever she feels like dancing. Part of being in a mature relationship is trusting your partner and giving them freedom to do what they want, and I’m okay with something like that.

I’m a fake boyfriend, not a fake daddy. Tell the guy he’s a creep and to get the hell away from you. You don’t need me pretending anything to do that.

By pretending to be a fake boyfriend, it’s implied that if she says she doesn’t want to dance, there’s someone there to say “Hey, the lady doesn’t want to dance, find someone else to hit on.” The d-bag understands that. We’re men, we understand each other.

What did this girl think I’m going to do as a fake boyfriend? Threaten to kick his ass? I’m a FAKE boyfriend. My fake girl has to tell the REAL douche bag to get lost. If he wants to FAKE fight, I’ll fake fight. But I’m not getting my REAL ass kicked for fake girlfriend.

Stream of Consciousness XII

November 18, 2009

You can tell it’s November (aka The Month of Glory in my field) when I have two posts in 18 days.

Basically, when I think of something “blog worthy” I write it in a notepad document on my laptop. Then, when have time, I either expand it to a full post, or save some of the short entries for the “Stream of Consciousness” posts.

My saved short entries include comments from October, like:

  • The greatest sound in the world is 53,000 people in Yankee Stadium going silent.
  • Since Tim McCarver is always trying to say the most profound thing ever every time he speaks on TV, can we just say “ok! That’s it! Nothing tops THAT comment, Tim! You just win!” and maybe he’ll stop being the most annoying broadcaster in the history of mankind?

Non-time sensitive thoughts kicking around the disturbed mind:

  • John Tavares is ridiculously awesome.
  • When I see ads for the “My Touch” phone, I keep thinking they are talking about the Trojan vibrating fingertip massager (the one from the commercial with the old lady eavesdropping on the early 30s horny spinsters).
  • I think I’ve seen too many people in my life when everyone looks familiar to me. I know I’ve said  before that when you recognize strangers as people you’ve seen before, it’s like you’ve completely gone through all the “extras” for your life. Seriously, the chick behind the bench on a SportsCenter Indiana Pacers highlight looked familiar to me.
  • Am I the only one who heard about the Powermat wireless charger and thought “how is that possible? That’s like wizardry, voodoo or witchcraft. Such engineering should not be possible.”?
    I want to buy two: one to use and one to study. I could not own the device if I had children. I couldn’t explain to them how it worked when they asked. I’d have to say it was magic. Finally, some high tech wizardry that we should have in 2009. I mean, this is like, “the future” compared to when we were in the 90s.
  • Speaking of which, the high tech alien stuff they are showing on the remake of V that ABC is currently airing all looks really, really plausible.
    The room full of “monitors” with all the feeds coming from the spy cameras on their suits could be done pretty easily. A computer transferring the video inputs into separate computer windows on one giant HD screen; all using the iPhone touch screen interface (they’ve shown a table top version of the software on CNN, with digital pictures instead of streaming video). 
    And the screens on the bottom of the ships? They have screens like that in baseball/football stadiums. That’s not even close to crazy.

Improving Friendships a Gas Tank at a Time

November 11, 2009

When you have really close friends, you know them extremely well. When I moved down to New Orleans, I knew that one of my close friends and I were both the kind of people who would do a horrible job of keeping in touch with each other. I predicted it would happen and we both promised to try and prevent falling out of touch.

And of course, we were prophets and definitely don’t talk enough anymore.

The main problem is that we can easily talk about things, but there’s nothing to instigate a phone call besides “I haven’t talked to her in a while” and usually then, I think of it while I’m busy, or it’s ridiculously late at night. The thought of “Oh, I should share this…” doesn’t really enter into play.

Then a couple weeks ago, I had an idea. I was pulling in to put gas in my car and the car in front of me had a sticker from my friend’s alma mater. So I gave her a call.

It occurred to me that I don’t really DO anything while filling up my tank. I’m not in the middle of something when I’m getting gas, and normally, I fill up prior to, or after work. Not to mention that our busiest times are when we’re traveling, and when we’re on the road for work, we don’t have our personal cars.

Plus, the 15 minutes from the gas station next to work to home, or the gas station next to home to work means I can say “Ok, I’m home now” if I DO have plans. It’s really the perfect place where a phone call for the sake of a phone call fits into my day. And it will also distract us from other idiot drivers and quell our respective road rage.

I fill up my gas tank every two weeks or so, which is about the frequency we can talk and actually have something to say. If you talk too frequently, it’s “nothing’s new.” Two weeks is enough time for something of significant to happen, or at least discuss the most significant thing. We’ll even have an easily safety net for conversation if we can’t think of anything new to talk about: high gas prices.

I proposed this idea to my friend and she instantly thought it was brilliant, because it is.

I even have the built in excuse for calling her less frequently than she calls me: I have a sensible, Japanese sedan, and she has a gas-guzzling American SUV.

I would encourage any of you to steal this idea with your out of town friends. You’ll have better friendships and also look like a genius when you propose it.

The Power of St. Judas Tadeo Grants Me Peace

November 5, 2009

The power was out in my apartment tonight because I wasn’t smart enough to switch it to my name when I moved in (last time, they did it for me. I didn’t ask this time, just assumed). So I did the rational thing: Went to the bar across the street and watched 7 innings of the World Series while using their wireless internet to sign up for power, and watch the Islanders game online while charging my laptop battery.

As I left the bar (grabbing a pack of matches), I realized that I know I HAVE a candle in my apartment… but I have no idea where it is.

I stopped at the gas station and went to their junk aisle and immediately located an 8-inch tall candle with a picture of a Mexican saint on it.

The guy at the counter thought I was nuts, because within seven seconds of walking in, I’m at the checkout with just that. He asked if I came in specifically for that. I explained the situation and asked if many white people came in to buy this product.

He didn’t know they even sold it. And added that there’s probably a guy in the Home Depot parking lot with that picture tattooed on his arm who could explain its significance to me. Then he rang me up.


I was expecting to pay like seven bucks for such a large candle. Although, I can’t tell what it smells like, because the label is in Spanish. I hope I’m not accidentally cursing myself, but it looks Catholic, so hopefully I’m blessing my apartment. Maybe my tacos will taste better next time I make them. Hopefully St. Judas Mateo is the patron saint of prompt utility service.

Anyhow, I can’t tell if the warm Louisiana day has made my trash smell bad, or if its my feet, or if its this candle making my place smell like a sweaty Mexican. But I can see the toilet when I pee, and that’s all that matters right now.

May the Peace of St. Judas Mateo enlighten your day.