Wednesday, March 28, 2007
1. Doing something you normally wouldn't do. Most often with regards to a member of the opposite sex.
[ Origin: In Mallrats Brody's(Jason Lee) girlfriend asks, "You really want to know?" to which he responds, "I asked, didn't l? I'm playing the role of the concerned guy" ]
"So what did you do for Valentine's day?"
"I played the role"
"He's totally playing the role. He's at Bed Bath and Beyond right now picking out curtains instead of watching the game."
Over the past 4 months I've probably made my bed around 50 times. That's approximately 50 times more than I had in the previous 15 years. Why? Ruthie told me she likes a "made bed"
When I first started dating Stacey I would shave daily even going against the grain because she didn't like stubble when we kissed.
- see also
Whipped, wus, tool
Friday, March 23, 2007
I've recently discovered that if you drive a Volkswagen, and you're a female then what your car says about you is, "Jesse is into me". I realized today that in the past year I've been attracted to no less(and probably more) than 3 girls who drive VW's. This came as a great shock to me so I decided to do some more research. According to a recent Gallup poll 92.3% of people with mommy parts who drive VW's are attractive to me(Note: Attractive not Attracted). This seemed like quite a significant number until I compared it to the baseline and realized that 88.6% of people with innies instead of outies are attractive to me. Oh well.
If I had written this 10 years ago you could replace "VW" in the above paragraph with "Honda Civic" and I'm sure the same would hold true.
But this post isn't really about your car. It's about my car. Unless of course your car is a German car who's maker rhymes with Bolkswagen and you're in to short nerds, in which case hit me up on myspace.
I'm not much of a car guy, but I love mine. Yellow wouldn't have been my first choice, but now that I've got it, I love it. When I'm down, I put the top back and go for a drive, and I always feel better.
And that's one of the distinguishing features, that it's a convertible. The best part of a convertible is that for some reason people never seem to realize that there is no barrier between them and the outside world.
"Check out this ladie's dress over here. She looks like she bought it at the whore store."
"Yeah, she also looks to be about 8 feet away, and you forgot there's no roof on my car"
"Look at this jackass next to us. Does he think he owns the f%&#ing road?"
"I'm not sure, but he looks like he heard you... Top down TOP DOWN!" I'd point out while dropping it down a gear.
Of course it's not just other people who fall victim to this phenomenon. I myself have been known, on occasion, to forget that the barrier between me and the rest of the world is nonexistent.
I personally have the unique singing ability that I could make the people on American Idol look good. No, not the one's who win, the one's who they show at first just because it's such a goof.
With that in mind, the only place I ever sing is in the car and by myself. With the top down, the wind rushes by loud enough to drown my own voice out, and then it's somewhat tolerable. Of course I sometimes forget and will pull up at a stoplight, look over and see a cute girl. Only then will I realize that I'm still singing my heart out to No Doubt.
Don't judge. Despite how hard that girl was laughing, I owned "Just a girl"
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
I mostly leave them sitting around in the condo next to the guitars and piano as conversation pieces. It also gives the illusion that I'm somehow worldly or musical, which I can assure you, I most certainly am not. If I could keep a beat and wasn't tone def I'd still be musically untalented, but my musical ineptitudes are not the the subject of this entry. The point is, that while I like these interesting instruments, they don't get as much use as they could.
On one particular day I was visited by my neighbors and their guests, who included 84. We were watching TV, or a movie or something which directed my attention to the front of the room(Directly opposite from the back of the room where the instruments tend to congregate.) As we persisted in whatever activity it was that had my attention I began to hear the sound of wind moving through the flute.
"Oh my god, now he's playing my flute" I thought. I couldn't bring myself to turn around and look for fear that I might say something unpleasant although numerous things crossed my mind.
"Yeah... uhm.... I have the oral herp bro. Actually I guess I should say 'we' have the herp now."
"Oh, my mom was over last week, and her dog peed all over that. I really wouldn't put it in your mouth"
"That's not actually a flute dude, it's a South American sexu... well, never mind... it's best that you don't know."
Monday, March 19, 2007
"At least this new guy didn't try to woo you with my guitar"
In early January I purchased a little midi keyboard/piano to plug in to my computer. I took a year of lessons when I was about 9, so I thought, 21 years later, I probably still "had it" and should see what I could do. On my third night of owning the keyboard, Rachel came over to visit. She had mentioned earlier that she had taken lessons, and as such, I asked her if she'd play something for me. After a little bit of bashfulness she agreed and walked over to the keyboard, which sat on top of my computer desk.
At the time I was working on my laptop, which also sits on my desk. As she began to play, a guy who will be known as suitor #84 came in to my room, saw the piano, and his face lit up(He plays the piano).
"Nice keyboard. Do you know the other half of heart and soul." He asked as he walked up and wedged himself between me and Rachel.
"Eh, not really" I lied. I wasn't really in the mood for a group sing a long, but that didn't stop 84.
At this point Ruth had come in, and she was soon followed by Eldad(Rachel's boyfriend). After further questioning she agreed to be the other half of the duet and I wondered how the same thing had happened yet again. I took my laptop and went out to the balcony to finish working on whatever it was I had been working on. Nobody really seemed to notice, and for that I was thankful.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
On the way there, Ruth informed me that she had invited a friend of hers, who for the sake of anonymity, we'll refer to as Suitor #37. Apparently 37 was in to Ruth a little, and even though they'd known each other for a long time, nothing had really ever happened.
37 showed up about half way through the concert. Rachel and I were enjoying the music, and 37 and Ruth spent the majority of the time chatting behind us. I ended up really digging the show, which surprised me.
As we went to leave, 37's car was nowhere to be found. It turns out he had parked in a tow away spot, and his car was gone. He seemed fairly upset(As you can imagine), and Ruth felt really bad, as if it was her fault he had parked in a spot that read, "No Parking".
To be fair, the store that he parked in front of was long closed, so it was a bit silly that they'd still be towing people, but I guess those are the breaks.
The lot where his car was kept was closed for the night, so Ruth told him he could crash at her place and she'd take him in the morning.
(Note to self: If you're trying to get the invite back to a girl's place, park in the tow away zone. Best 135 bucks that guy ever spent)
We got back to our place, and all ended up in my condo. 37 was giving Ruthie the look, and it was starting to feel a little weird for me. Just as it got weird Rachel asked if I wanted to go down to the work out room in the building. I agreed as the "romantic tension" between Ruth and 37 seemed to be rising.
It's important to note that at this point in time, I had known Ruth and Rachel about 4 days, and #37 I had met about 2 hours before. Ruth and 37 were heading towards first base as I announced Rachel and I were leaving. It was my assumption at this point that maybe they'd relocate... For example, to Ruth's house, which is roughly 4 feet away.
After a 20 minute work out I returned to find 37, with Ruth sort of laying on one of his knees. Across the other knee was my guitar. Now, I'm not sure how many readers are musicians... It would be a far stretch to call myself one, but I think it's a general rule that playing another man's guitar without asking is sort of like taking their car for a spin without asking. Just because you know how to drive stick shift too doesn't make it okay. Even if, in this metaphor, my guitar is a 1978 Pinto, I still think it's odd to go into someone you don't know's house and start playing their guitar.
Besides, if anyone is going to sit on my couch, play my guitar, and not score with my neighbor, by default it should be me. I mean... That's my thing. You don't show up at Martha Stewart's for Thanksgiving and bring a Turkey you made at home. You don't hop in the car with Jeff Gordon and tell him you wanna drive, and you don't come over to my house and not score with my neighbors.
They didn't really seem bothered by my presence, and Rachel had left to go to bed. I believe, they eventually got the hint and left, but it certainly took longer than I felt was comfortable.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
This story has been beat to death, but I never really posted it. If you've heard it before, do yourself a favor and stop reading now.
As loyal readers, or anyone who's been within 100 feet of me in the past few are well aware, 3 months ago I went to knock on my neighbor's door and set in to motion a series of events that would lead to a plethora of changes in my life. Suddenly I had the equivalent of two beautiful roommates whom I barely knew. Out of nowhere my life had changed from that of a typical nerd to what could pass for a prime time member of NBC's Thursday night "Must See TV".
Initially I was scared of having two "roommates". I'm not that great at having people around that often, and I tend to get annoyed easily. Luckily for me, Ruth and Rachel ended up being quite easy to get along with. They're about as orderly as a bull in a china shop, but everyone tells me that a little chaos will do me some good.
As I spent my time bracing for impact and looking to keep things under control, the one thing I didn't see coming was that along with my two new roommates came their would-be-suitors. "Would-be-suitors" in no way describes the magnitude of attraction that these two have put out. It's as if every eligible man in Phoenix has come by with the hopes that his foot will somehow fit the glass slipper. Fewer eligible bachelor's appeared during the entire 8 season run of The Dating Game than have appeared at my neighbor's doorstep in the past few months.
It's not as if I haven't enjoyed watching sailor after sailor steer his ships directly for Sirenum Scopuli, it's more that by showing up on their doorstep they're essentially showing up on my doorstep, and I oftentimes find myself ill equipped to handle unplanned house guests.
Now, to be sure there have been a couple who's presence is welcome, but by and large that tends to not be the case. In general I've found myself able to deal with these situations. Normally I see the minor irritation as a direct result of my social anxiety, and something that I need to work on. But then there are the times that I see as something that they need to work on; there are times that they start messing with my stuff.
Readers who have kept diligent notes will recall that on the Tuesday after meeting Ruth and Rachel I was invited to a concert by Ruth. At the time, the details of that evening seemed insignificant and unblogworthy when in reality they set a tone of things to come.