Thursday, July 26, 2012

Movie Night

I don't like how some DVDs just start playing the movie automatically when you put them in. It's a little unsettling. I feel rushed. It's like if you bring a woman home and she just starts undressing, without any kind of prompt whatsoever. Let me look at the title screen for a second, get myself oriented. Decide if we're going widescreen or full. Maybe there are some special features I want to check out. Maybe it's a bloopers & outtakes kind of night. Maybe I just want to select my favorite scene and fast forward right to it, cutting out the arduous setup and obligatory, overproduced climax, with all the special effects and cheesy wrap-up dialogue.

We're still talking about the movie, right?

Friday, July 13, 2012

Notes from a Future Old Man


I’ve been at my parents’ place all week, in the house I grew up in, and in my bedroom closet I found a bag of old letters from every girl I “went out with” from roughly the ages of 14 to 18. One was from a girl I had a summer fling with when I was 16 and spent a few weeks in Vermont at a pre-college program. There had been a bit of a love triangle between me, her and another girl, and in her letter, she wrote: “I’m so sorry that more couldn’t have come out of our relationship. I realize how much you also love J*****, and I don’t blame you – she’s great.”

This blew me away. How did I manage to pull that off, whereby I dated two girls in a five-week span, and this was the incredibly mature, selfless attitude one of them had towards the other? I don’t think I’ve even met a female in my adult life who would express this type of sentiment.

Then I started reminiscing about high school. I thought back to my sophomore year girlfriend, and how my best friend dated her for awhile after we broke up – and how there was no animosity about it amongst any of us. How was this possible? What world did I exist in? Were there Oompa-Loompas there too?

In fact, how was it possible to date anybody after I had already been with someone else at the same school? If I was in high school today, as an adult, I would probably just go ahead and change schools rather than deal with the awkwardness of seeing an ex-girlfriend on a daily basis, let alone seeing her after I’d started dating someone new – someone she might even be friends with. But I suppose most of us dated multiple people from the same school, and it just wasn’t a big deal. We all had classes together, projects to collaborate on, dances to attend, and we just dealt with it, I guess. Today, I try to avoid restaurants in the same neighborhood where an ex of mine lived five years ago.

What a simpler time it must have been. When did things get so complex? When did we lose this maturity to be able to say to each other, I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but I can understand what you see in this other person who isn’t me, and I don’t hate you for it?

It’s almost like I want to time travel back to the 90’s and ask my teenage self for dating advice. He had skills. 

He’d probably tell me to go back to watching 90210. Back then, I aspired to be Dylan McKay. Now I aspire to be Larry David. Big difference.

Monday, June 25, 2012

Nipple of My Eye

I just had afternoon drinks with a friend, saying our goodbyes as I get ready to move back to Los Angeles next week. When I came out of the restaurant to walk home, I saw a beggar on the sidewalk, sitting and holding her toddler. She was probably mid-30's, her child about one. She was holding a cardboard sign, asking for money.

If you've read this blog before, you may know that I am no fan of begging vagrants. I believe people should have the dignity to offer something - even if it's just telling a joke - in return for money, rather than just ask for it outright from strangers because they are destitute. In addition, there are simply too many of them on the streets of New York City to accommodate them all. If you decide you're going to be the type of person to give spare change to every homeless person you pass by, you'll go broke pretty fucking quick.

But I had just had a couple glasses of wine, and the baby kind of got to me, so I pulled out my wallet and took out a dollar. I walked up to the woman and handed her the money. And as she leaned forward to take it from me, her loose-fitting shirt fell forward, and...I saw her nipple.

I'm not really sure if I'm a believer in karma or not, but that's about the strongest case the universe has ever made to me in favor of it. Give a homeless lady a dollar, see her nipple in return. That seems like a pretty balanced cosmic equation.

The lord works in mysterious ways.

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Guest Kvetch: Don't Feel Bad for the School Bus Lady


This Guest Kvetch comes courtesy of my good friend Adam. Apparently there's a bastard out there even more heartless than me! 

So apparently this old lady getting bullied on a bus is international news today. You can watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l93wAqnPQwk. It's tough to stomach, but to summarize, this 68-year old bus monitor is verbally abused for ten minutes on a school bus by a group of foul-mouthed school children. They call her “fatass,” make fun of her sweating, threaten to come over to her house and shit/jizz in her mouth, etc. America’s bright future on display.

The consensus reaction is to pity this poor old lady…she has since received over $160,000 in online donations from people all over the world (in just 24 hours…I assume it will be much more in the coming days). The money is to take a vacation, apparently. And I certainly don’t doubt that she could use it. And I agree that these kids are vile little brats, who could use a good smack in the mouth.

BUT…I have little sympathy for this woman.

First, she’s being paid by some New York school district to be a “bus monitor.” I have no idea what a bus monitor’s job description is, but I assume the main goal is to keep basic order on the bus. In this respect, she fails miserably. The bus is clearly a haven for meanness and bullying. On her watch, it seems particularly just that she be a victim of her own inability to keep some 13-year olds in line.

Also, how can a person who’s been on this planet for 68 years be so lousy at dealing with people? I have no love for bullies; this episode was all too familiar to me, having spent many a bus ride/math class/recess dealing with similar abuse. I can assure you, it is no fun. Then again, I was a kid. I didn’t know any better. At 33, I do now. If I get bullied these days, well, that’s my own fucking fault. This woman should know better than to sit there like a lump and take it, and if she doesn’t, why the hell did she take a job where the one requirement was knowing how to deal with kids? And when she realized her mistake, why didn’t she quit? 99% of jobs do not require you to sit on a bus with child bullies. Go work at the post office, lady.

And let’s ask something else. What if that bullying was directed at another kid sitting in the back of the bus? Does she march back there and set these bastards straight? I’m kinda getting the feeling that the answer is ‘no.’ If you’re too cowardly to stand up to bullies, fine. But you can leave the situation; the geek who has to take that bus home every day can’t. When you accept that job, then fail at it, you cheat that young bully victim of an adult supervisor who could actually use that position to help kids.

And there’s another thing. I’m just gonna come out and say it: She IS a fatass. You wanna spend your golden years with heart disease and diabetes? Go ahead, lady. But while you’re stuffing your fat face with Big Macs, poor kids in Somalia are dying of hunger, and my healthcare premiums are skyrocketing to cover the cost of your second bypass surgery. Now, I don’t expect you to care about that, but you can be damn sure that if anybody’s gonna point out your physical flaws, it’s unsupervised children on a school bus. You might have noticed that during your reported 20 years as a school bus driver or 3 years as a bus monitor.

I suppose a lot of people will say I’m being too hard on her…she’s just a sweet old lady. Why does being old and having a vagina make you beyond reproach in our society? Passive old women like this are nothing to be lauded. Every time I read in the news about some horrible guy who molested his kids for years, I think of what kind of wife could just sit there and let that happen. I’m not saying this woman is guilty of such things. I’m just saying the people who are guilty of such things probably sit there crying and doing nothing and hoping in vain that things turn out okay, just like this lady does. The one comment that is drawing the most sympathy is when one bully tells the woman that "you have no family because they all killed themselves because you're so fat." Very mean, especially because (unbeknownst to the kid) the lady's son actually did commit suicide. No doubt that brings a tear to many a reader's eye. But to me it says: This woman's OWN kid killed himself? Take a fucking hint, lady! You're not good at this!

I don’t think we need anti-bullying laws in this country. What we need is bully defense training. Children should be taught, from a young age, how to deter physical and emotional abuse. Sometimes it requires tough talk, sometimes a punch in the nose. Mostly it just requires making a minimal effort to show people you can’t be fucked with. This lady could have solved all her problems by just taking a strong tone and saying “Okay, that’s far enough. You can’t talk to me or anyone else like that. You do it again and I’m talking to your principal and your parents, and your lucky I’m not your age or I’d smack your smartass mouth. Now act civilized or walk home. We clear?” Or hey, here’s a novel idea: she could just learn how to make friends with kids. But no; in her 20 years of driving school buses, she learned a different lesson: Just ignore them. That’s why everyone hates school bus drivers, by the way. They just ignore the fuck out of you and don’t care what kinds of horrible shit are going on in those seats. She probably thought the career change to bus monitor would be the same, except she wouldn’t have to worry about watching the road any more. How dare those children not just let her do her job in peace…the job of sitting there and ignoring them for eight bucks an hour.

We need people on school buses and in classrooms who can teach good character through example. She can’t. All I see on that video is another case of the many, many adults across the country who work as teachers or counselors and have absolutely no business supervising young minds. Working with kids is about more than just sitting around and getting summers off. I have several friends, and a few teachers through the years, who were born to teach; but they’re the minority.

Bus Monitor Lady, I’m truly sorry you never learned the life skills required to deal with bullies. But you need to recognize your own shortcomings and address them. Enjoy the $160,000 in pity money. Wanna do yourself, and all those kids, a favor? Use it to retire permanently.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Killer Advice

Curiosity finally got the better of me, and I watched that gruesome, SE7EN-esque video of the Montreal porn star murdering his boyfriend. Out of everything I felt while watching, the overwhelming sentiment I experienced was...frustration.

Why is it that whenever anybody posts a grisly video to the internet, the quality is always so poor? You can barely make out which body part this guy is severing (and then using to masturbate with)! Don't they have iPhones in Canada?

It's not just this guy. When they hung Saddam Hussein, the picture quality was abysmal. You would think somebody would have thought to bring a slightly more state of the art piece of technology than a first edition BlackBerry to such a momentous occasion. Same goes for Gaddafi's demise. Please, Arab Springers, I beg of you: invest in a Sony Handycam and find an amateur filmmaker to bring along the next time you hunt down and execute your brutal dictator. You'll get a lot more hits on YouTube.

But this Montreal guy is really inexcusable. You go through the whole rigamarole of killing your boyfriend, hacking him up and performing sex acts with his corpse, then post the video to the internet to immortalize your legacy, and it looks like crap? Look, I'm not condoning murder, but if you're gonna do it, do it right.

Like this. This is a video I shot with my iPhone of me murdering an apple:


See? Clear as day. And now it's on the internet forever, a testament to my greatness. You're welcome, future ice pick murderers.

Monday, June 4, 2012

God Bless America

I just got off the phone with someone (I won't say who, so as to spare them the humiliation when they eventually come to their senses) after one of our patented political diatribes. "They" are conservative; I am liberal. For the most part, I am a supporter of our president, or any president, for that matter. "They" sincerely believe our president is working hard to bring this country to its knees. In other words, Obama is some sort of treasonous double agent who we're all just sitting around and passively allowing to destroy our American way of life.

Look, I like politics. It's interesting; it's filled with spirited disagreements and so forth. But at some point, we should recognize that we're all on the same side. We have to be able to talk about the president, and that he passed health care, or did that shit in Libya, or how the economy still sucks, or whatever...without it being like we're all just blindly just rooting for or against someone. Because at that point, there's nothing that separates us from Red Sox fans.

"Jeter sucks bro! Jeter sucks!!!"

Is that how you really want to sound?

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

A Man and His Pussy


An anonymous friend wrote up the following synopsis of her latest dating misadventure, which I found amusing. Enjoy.

I was recently fixed up with a friend of a friend. He was described as a nice, handsome, all-around good guy. Of course I was open to meeting him. He called on a Monday to take me out that Saturday...for coffee. At 6 pm.
 “Coffee at 6 pm?” I asked myself. “Did he mean a pre-dinner drink at 6 pm? Or maybe an early dinner itself at 6 pm? Or coffee at 4 pm, maybe?” Because most people abiding by the basic North American scheduling code would at that hour not be having coffee. But I went with it. 

I showed up at the deserted cafĂ© wearing a simple but sexy lil’ sundress and a smile. And there, to my happy surprise, was “Steve”: a tall, dark and very handsome guy with thick Hugh Grant-esque hair circa Four Weddings and a Funeral. Aside from the awkward venue at an awkward time, we were off to the races.

Unfortunately, after a polite greeting, 65 excruciating minutes ensued. This seemingly adorable guy managed to vomit out every ugly detail of his self-described troubled, damaged, unsuccessful and unstable existence. In short, he basically deemed himself totally unfit to date. Or even befriend. Steve managed to spew forth as many deal breakers as he possibly could, in the spirit of "being honest." I tried to veer the conversation away from “I have zero income or savings of any kind” to “seen any great movies lately?” From “I’m moving in with my mother” to “what kind of music do you like?” From “I have social anxiety disorder, ADD and possibly a mild form of Aspergers” to “have you tried that great new Thai place?” It was, in a word, hellacious.

The date wrapped up, he told me he’d love to see me again...then asked me for a ride to the subway, as he had no car. I gotta say, I felt badly for the guy. As I dropped him off at the metro, I knew full well I wouldn’t see him again.

The next day, I received a text.

“Hey! How’s your day going?” Steve wrote.

“Great thx! How’s yours?” I replied, not having the heart to ignore him.

“Good. Do you like cats?”

Random.

“Cats? Actually, I’m super allergic. More of a dog-person myself…”

A full day and night passed before I received the following:

“Hey there. I really don’t want to be an asshole as you seem like a really amazing woman. I’m just not interested in pursuing a relationship with you…something you said the other night was a real deal breaker for me”

Me: “Umm…ok….”  (did HE just brand ME with deal breaker-ness?)

Steve: “I can’t date a woman who doesn’t love cats. My cat is my life. I’m sorry. Take care”

Jaw-dropped, I reply: “Wow. Bummer. Well, I hope you and the only pussy you’ll ever have will be very happy together.”

End scene. Good night.