Why the H- can't I find t-shirts anymore???

Since summer has arrived and I haven't received my yearly quota of free college tees, I have been forced to find other alternatives. This has proven to be a much harder task than I had originally expected though and I can't tell if it's just me, or the t-shirts...

I'm beginning to realize that t-shirts are becoming as much a mainstay in fashion as they ever were. Bro's wear their Affliction t-shirts to clubs and bars, and companies like Armani, try to sell us $50 t-shirts that already look destroyed. Not to mention this new Christian Audigiar character who's glorified Lisa Frank fantasy animal designs have become some of the more expensive items on the clothing racks.

I can't get into it, but it seems that t-shirts are becoming too elaborate "artistically" for me. Maybe it's because I wash my t-shirts. When you wash a shirt, it fades, and the designs begin to crack after a while, and eventually it's time to get a new shirt. If I paid $50 for a t-shirt, I would have a hard time watching this process occur, or, I would consume myself by making sure that that shirt never went in the dryer thusly hanging it to dry. Frankly, too much effort for T-SHIRT. Maybe a nice jacket or something, but a t-shirt?

Walking through a Nordstrom's (this years styles), Nordstrom's Rack (last years rejected styles), or a Macy's, I soon realized that t-shirts, although maybe not as elaborate as a Christian Audigiar, are still these "works of art" that I can only see on some mega bro, or an American Apparel model wearing. Shirts with patches, or awkward cuts; shirts with dated logos like "Crush", or exotic places you've never been like "Montana", or "Ireland"; and shirts with funky cartoons litter these stores. I kinda like the funky cartoon shirts, but they tend to be on funky colors too and I don't know if I could pull off a pale teal shirt. T-shirts from Express have weird glitter on their Gothic designed eagle wings with a neuvo silk screen style "tattoo art" down the chest and sides, and American Eagle and Gap logo shirts don't make any sense at all...

I'm starting to think that this is when I cross over and out of the following generation. I always enjoyed a good Volcom stone shirt, or a RVCA shirt, but I can't seem to find a subtle one. The way things are looking though, I don't know if I'll ever enjoy these new "artistic" designs. I've found myself getting plain v-necks and solid-color t-shits, but this ultimately makes me feel like I have no fashion sense, which, whether it's true or not, is not a happy feeling. I can only hope that the "artsy" tee goes out of style as quickly as the t-shirt on top of the polo thing that swept Abercrombies and Gap stores across the nation not too long ago.

Maybe I should consider the t-shirts that you can find online with the goofy sayings, and puns. The only problem with those so far is that I can't find one that I feel I could wear in public without drawing unnecessary attention to myself. I guess this this all means if I'm going to shop for t-shirts at a mall, I had better get used to the idea of going straight for Gap v-necks. Otherwise I guess it's come down to me scouring the internet for some t-shirt that doesn't make me look like a complete asshole and that doesn't require that I buy salmon colored shorts to accompany it.

I guess I like the idea of t-shirts being a simple commodity. Or maybe I'm just a fan of more subtle styles. I like to think that that doesn't make me an oldie, but the more I think about it, being detached from teens these days might not be a bad thing.

I never got into Lisa Frank. I was more of a Peachy guy. I guess that how I like my t-shirts too. But I don't want to have to shop at Walmart to get my Peachys, or my t-shirts...

Thoughts while walking in a mall...

Malls are undoubtedly one of the greater environments for "people watching." I have always found at least some element of a mall overly interesting on any given day. Usually my interest is sparked by the "children friendly" sections. Usually right outside of department stores, these quarter fed respite providers never cease to amaze me, especially since they are obviously simple machines that attract bounds of attention by toddlers and the like.

There are also these small brightly colored ponies on electric wheels that children can also ride on in a small corral in the center of the causeway. I don't think that parents understand that their children look like little shits on these things. But alas, I don't want to go too far into child attractions today...

Over the past year or so, I've been sudo developing this idea that people walk like they drive. Most notably, if you look at large walkways at airports, theme parks, malls, sidewalks, piers, etc., you might notice that there are two distinct "lanes" of human traffic. Chances are, if you walking and you feel like you're the only one going that direction, you're probably the only one going in that direction. Don't be a salmon and swim upstream... Just like driving, the boundaries of the causeway are usually to our right hand sides, and "opposing traffic" is usually to our left (obviously this analogy only works for some countries). The people closest to the edge of the boundary are going to be going the slowest because they are the ones popping in and out of stores/terminals/etc., just like individuals coming off and on exit and entrance ramps on a freeway on in and out of driveways.

Some people "run out into traffic" and then walk really slowly, pissing off everybody who had rhythm behind them. Other times, people may walk in a group in a horizontal line so that people behind can't pass them without entering opposing traffic. Starting to sound familiar? Kids are told not to run, like teens and young adults are told not to speed, and people who are lost just walk around in circles slowing down everybody. There are fast walkers who weave in and out of steady walkers, there are elderly walkers who should really check their blind spots before "switching lanes", there are people who walk and talk on their cell phones really loudly when they should be paying attention to something else (their child on the magical pony perhaps?).

Obviously this hypothesis would require that I then watch that person drive to see if they drive like they walk. But I think that regardless of whether an aggressive walker = an aggressive driver, or a passive walker = a passive driver, we still sub-consciously adhere to basic "road rules" while walking.

Nuff-said...

The Shit-Show

There are some people on Facebook who, if you only looked at their pictures, you would believe beyond a reasonable doubt that they are shit-shows.

You know the shot. A group of girls in "Vegas" dresses, holding their drinks just high enough to make the picture frame, looking like they're having the time of their lives bumping and grinding on every piece of bro-douche that walks up and sneaks their face into the picture.

I've always liked the "gotta hold the drink" pose in party pictures. It almost seems to say: "Hey everybody! Look what I'm doing!" As if the Ferrell red-eye doesn't give your drunkenness away. Some people have entire albums dedicated to the glorification of their alcoholism. Inside, outside, night, day, it doesn't really seem to phase the party scene at some schools. But it does give the illusion that you drink all day. Maybe the cup habit stuck with us after we turned 21. Being underage and drinking was way cooler. Maybe we still feel the need to raise that cup to show our rebelliousness, or the caliber, or not, of our drink.

Others only have pictures where they're dressed like D-list celeb socialites. Always taking the "twins" out for the evening, or showing that little bit of chest hair that they had been saving up since they were in high school. We know these pictures too. Posing next to a statue of something lame, or giving us the lower lip bite that seems to make us look like porn stars. Maybe we'll pretend that we're crammed in the picture so that we have an excuse to squeeze our boobs together to give us more cleavage. I don't know. This is all speculation.

Adding the hyper-sexualization to the token alcoholism, it doesn't take a lot of guesswork to assume that somebody is a shit show. I feel like we all have friends like this. Friends who feel the urge to only show themselves in their "element", or living the "college dream." Maybe being out of college and the "scene" makes me a critic and a skeptic. Or maybe I'm just beginning to laugh at how cool I though that I was when I was in those same pictures, or how I found myself attracted to women's party attire.

My suggestion, maybe throw in a few pictures of you and your puppy every now and then. Maybe you're in sweats, or wearing less makeup, or your using your mega shades to block the sun from your crippling hang over. We need to know that you have a recovery period in between episodes. Or at least that you have some reason to live. In any case, a careful content analysis of your Facebook photos may explain why everybody is trying to use you, why you won't get hired for a job, why you don't want to friend your parents on Facebook, or why you have THAT reputation.

I'm just sayin...you look like a shit show.

Yo Momma...

I guess it all started when, while working with one of our landscaping crews, I mentioned that a rather wily patch of grass/weeds reminded me of Scooter's mother's back hair. Of course, as I had hoped, the line received a brief but hearty laugh from the other two guys who for a second, actually probably thought that Scooter's mom was hairy.

Scooter, in traditional Long Beach gangster fashion, faked a sucker punch in my direction. Just to make sure he wasn't harboring any true malice, I quipped, "Scoot, I'm sure that your mom is a classy lady with a smooth back."

Immediately after, I starting thinking about the utter stupidity of "Your Mom" jokes. Not only do they tend to juxtapose abstract associations like weight and zip codes, but they seem to illicit an immediate defense response from the "victim" of the joke. The more abstract the association, seemingly the more intense the response.

I'm reminded of grade school when "Your Mom" was a rampant dis. Actually, saying "your mom" was more of like a comeback I suppose. "What are you having for lunch today?", "Oh, nothing, just your mom." Or, "Dude, your so freakin dumb", "You're mom's dumb." You get the point. "Your mom" would become a dis when used in the context of the joke "Your momma's so fat/dumb" or any other derivative there upon.

It really was just all silly though. Right? I suppose not. For whatever reasons I seem to think that people have actually begun physical fights on the premise to defend of the matriarch. These fights seem to have escaped the playground and lunch area banter of primary school students and amalgamated into a "justifiable" attack based on some lost virtue of chivalry.

If we look at models of matriarchal authority in traditional socio-demographics, we might be led to believe that African Americans, Jews, white suburbia, royal families, Latinos, and Catholics, just to name some immediate few, would have strong matriarchal ties that might be worth justifying some legitimate response to "your mom." This hinges on the assumption that the initial premise in the "your mom" syllogism (mainly that "your mom" is intended as a joke), is in fact null. If one can reasonably assume that the first premise is null, then it can be established that "you mom" is meant not as a dis or comeback but as a provocation.

I'm sure that 5th graders and street thugs assume this basic Aristotelian model of logic before they act on a "your mom" joke, but I can't be sure. For this reason I have included the following definitions of "your mom" as provided by UrbanDictionary.com.

1.) What you say in response to any question

your mom : so what did u do today?

you : your mom

jen: so what r we doing 2day in french?
me: your mom!

2.) An abstract concept loosely affiliated with notions of the intended audience's maternal figure. normally expressed as an intended slight on said maternal figure. often serves as indication of the end of a conversation.

X: That is one very fat farm animal.

Y: You're a fat farm animal.

X: I'll show you a fat farm animal.

Y: Your mom is a fat farm animal.

3.) A phrase used when you have absolutely no idea how to answer a question, or piss someone off. Highly recommended phrase to be used during business meetings.

Important Guy: "Mr. Smith, how long do you think the proposal will take?"

You: About as long as your mom.

Using these basic definitions, we can now go into the world with the understanding that "your mom" jokes are not intended as provocation but rather as a dis or comeback. If you feel conflicted, please apply the logic of a basic Aristotelian syllogism under the initial premise of "your mom is intended as a joke." I think you will find yourself pleased with your new-found pacifism.

On the First Anniversary of my Graduation...

A year ago today, I graduated from Gonzaga University with my B.A. in Sociology. As I come to grips with the fact that this occurred a year ago, I have chosen to reflect on some of the things which have marked my life during the course of this year.

1. I have a job with benefits that I generally can't stand and I feel ungrateful.
2. I am no longer a camp counselor for the first time in 7 summers.
3. I have picked up a new hobby; photography
4. My parents have moved to Boston.
5. I have moved in with their friends down the street.
6. I am bored and feel lifeless 90% of the time.
7. The other 10%, I'm visiting with one of three friends.
8. I have begun to drink Bourbon.
9. I constantly contemplate someplace better than where I am now.
10. I've joined a gym.
11. I've been able to sustain a long distance relationship.
12. I've begun to think that sociology was only as exciting as the speculation that I used to put into it.
    
13. I'm considering law school instead of graduate studies in sociology.
14. I want to move back to Spokane.
15. I hate the people in Orange County, CA.
16. I'm generally irritable.
17. I've decided that my physical pain is bullshit and have decided to ignore it...and it's worked.
18. I have most of what I need, but I spend money on things that I don't.
19. I'm sick and tired of Facebook. I feel like a used up junkie. Since Facebook doesn't give me the same "high" as it used to, every time I use it now, I'm just frustrated.
20. I haven't played my guitar in such a long time.
21. The politics behind my job are astounding and I feel bad for the limitations that people with disabilities are weighed down with.
22. I've decided to start living the life that I've been putting on hold while waiting for "something better"
    
23. I'm job hunting again.
24. I'm loosing weight.
25. I'm detaching myself from the bullshit that frustrates me.
26. I'm focusing on the friends that I have.
27. I'm saving money.
28. I'm finding reward in solitary activities.
29. I'm taking the first opportunity I get to leave Orange County, even if it's for lesser pay.
30. I'm not listening to guilt trips.
31. I'm going to do something spontaneous.
32. I'm going to start home brewing.
33. I'm going to grow the fuck up.

The Anthems of a Generation

I spent four hours at a senior living center yesterday "job coaching" a client of mine. However, since I am not "authorized" to provide direct care, I found myself stashed away in the corner completing the crossword puzzle. Still, this gave me an opportunity to absorb my surroundings in the freakish way that I tend to.

I thought that I was in trouble because I was in for a four hour sit-fest and the only thing on the tele was Good Morning America and after about 30 minutes, classic music from the first half of the 20th century. I didn't think that I would be able to stay awake listening to classic jingles like "A Bushel and a Peck", especially with the 97 year old dozing off every five minutes.

When I saw three of the residents staring off into space, I couldn't help but wonder what they were thinking about. Perhaps the music was bringing them back "to the day". I could imagine the gentleman to my left, in his WWII uniform, with dark and dapper hair, dancing with a younger version of the lady across the room from him who's legs now no longer allow her to dance. I thought about the 97 year old woman and the history flowing through her veins. I wanted to ask her if we would "be alright", knowing that despite all the chaos currently in our world, she had seen much more and had survived to tell about it (maybe a lesson for us?). Knowing what she had probably been through suddenly put my historical lens into focus. We aren't nearly as bad off as we had been in the early 20th.

I determined that this music was making me nostalgic for them. I wondered what music they would play at my senior living center, assuming that they still exist when I reach that age. I imagined Third Eye Blind coming from the stereo and some young twenty-something sitting quietly in the corner doing the crossword. I would probably quip to him that he had it easy and that back in my day, Pluto was a planet, the world shit their pants at the words terrorism/socialist/wmd/swine flu, our economy tanked, we elected a dumbshit, then we elected an African American, American auto companies became shadows of their former selves, capitalism failed - but then wasn't allowed to, political parties became gangs and ruffians rather than representatives, newspapers became obsolete, iPhones and social networking sites ran our lives, and we became so self centered that we twittered so that EVERYBODY COULD KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING.

What are some of the other things that my generation has to reflect on, knowing well that most of our lives are still ahead of us? Lets see: texting, sexting, the lost generation, school shootings, a rise in teen pregnancies/drug use, a decline in grades, a focus on college life rather than college, ENTITLEMENT, dressing like wealthy homeless people, spending more money on consumer goods than any other generation (but probably to be surpassed by the next), "pimping" out cars, Sparks, reality television obsessions, celebrity obsessions, more votes for American Idol than American Politics, disconnect, energy drinks, digital photography, online computer games, trying to recreate Woodstock, boy bands, Disney, crappy alt-rock that sounds the same, death metal heads exercising prejudice, Gulf War I and II, domestic and foreign terrorism, cotton-candy Christianity, computers, the Internet, green energy, eco-friendlism, volunteering, protest.

Sorry for the apparent rant...I don't have a completely bleak outlook on the history of my generation, but we are very unique. Still, I think that it's important to pay attention to the elderly in our society. Kids these days don't even respect their parents, not to mention their grandparents. The elderly today are part of the Greatest Generation. We are the Millennials.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5IfsNqJcmA

Word.

A Deeper Look Into Sliced Bread

As I prepared my sandwich for work this morning, a quote on the bag perked my attention. "What was the best thing before sliced bread?". Trader Joes is historical for these little "haha's" on their products, but for whatever reasons, this one caused my early morning speculation to kick into over drive.

Before deciding what the best thing was before sliced bread, I had to figure out a little bit of history regarding sliced bread which I share with you now. As far as I can tell, sliced bread was the conception of Otto Frederick Rohwedder of Davenport, Iowa. Evidently he made a prototype in 1912 for a whole loaf bread slicer. This prototype burned in a fire and it wasn't until 1928 that he had finally created a working model. A few other guys got into the business shortly after and with better success. The first loaf of bread was sliced on July 7, 1928 in Battle Creek, Michigan (which claims this achievement to this day) and Wonderbread would be the first company to commercialize sliced bread in 1930 using a slicing machine that sliced and wrapped.

Sliced bread was originally marketed as "the greatest forward step in the baking industry since bread was wrapped."

In 1943 bread slicing was banned by the US Government in order to combat rising flour costs and to prevent bread from drying out too quickly (can't have waste after all). The ban only lasted about three months...We can thank the French for a successful protest! (In case you forgot, France and the US were allies during this time).

Well, as noted above, wrapped bread was the greatest thing since sliced bread. But that seems to be a lame precursor to one of our greatest hyperbolic phrases.

Of course there are so many stellar achievements that must be considered like anti-septics, horse drawn coaches, spiral barrels on rifles (a Civil War ooolala), the printing press, Bibles in the vernacular, submarines (I'm thinking about the Civil War ones), trains, crude oil drills, you're getting the point.

Since bread is a food, and slicing bread is to increase convenience, I have chosen to focus on a food item that was convenient before sliced or wrapped bread to address the original question of this post.

I have chosen, beyond a reasonable doubt: Beer.

Beer has been tracked back to 9000 BC in the writings of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Chemical evidence of beer goes back to 3100 BC in what would become Western Iran, and Germanic and Celtic tribes in 3000BC. This beer wasn't "normal beer" however. It was brewed with fruits, and cereal grains, and random wild flowers and berries. Beer as we appreciate it was best tracked down to 822AD and 1607AD when hops became the wonder weed of beer making. Before the Industrial Revolution, beer was made in small batches in monasteries and local breweries. After the Industrial Revolution, beer was made on a commercial level (don't' worry "micro brewing" will return as a phenomenon of the 1990's-2000's). By the end of the 1800's, beer had become a precise art due to the advent of thermometers and hydrometers which enabled consistent and quality results.

How great is this? A bread product being the best thing since sliced bread! Bread was, and forever will be, a staple in the human diet. How appropriate that it should expand upon itself. Beer has been used in substitute for water in Europe (historically) and in Mexico (currently) and attracts hundreds of billions of dollars in world sales. That's the power of bread man.

The next time you grab for that turkey sandwich, grab yourself a beer as well. You will experience a jubilee of historical awareness as you munch and savor the flavors of history's good fortune. Don't believe me? Try a FatTire. That stuff is bread in a bottle.



(Thank you wikipedia for your support in this speculation.)

Video Game Prowess < Life Experience/Prowess

Today's featured "WikiHow" was entitled "How to Land a Plane in an Emergency". Naturally, I was drawn to this title and visited the posting hoping that it had been written by famed Cpt. Sully. Not to my surprise, but still disappointing, the article was not written by Cpt. Sully, but by somebody who I will mention later.

The premise of the WikiHow was what to do when the pilot falls unconscious and you are required to land the plane. This seemed strangely "Airplane"-esque, especially since the assumption that the co-pilot taking over was no where to be found. The first instruction was to sit in the pilots' seat, which our author graciously reminded us was on the left side. The second step, take a breather. Now I seem to recall a pilot who took a "prayer breather" during an emergency situation just recently in the news. That man had charges pressed against him...Let me continue to say that these are the first two steps of six. Evidently, you only need six steps to land a plane in an emergency, and the first two require you to assume the position, and breathe.

After you have successfully leveled the plane (step 3), called for help on the radio (step 4), and maintained a safe speed (step 5), you can effectively land the plane (step 6). In case you were confused, the author attached a video.

The video shows a flight simulator computer game. We join our narrator in the cockpit of a 737 on final approach to a small airport in NY. He can't stop complementing his 45 degree bank to line himself up on the runway, and comments that he doesn't use full flaps to land because they cause the plane to go to slow. After landing, he encourages us that this process will take some practice to get good at, but that you should be able to do it someday. What a douche.

So I got to thinking, and I recalled a moment this weekend in Best Buy that struck me. The kids that used to bug me by playing Blink-182 at the Guitar Centers on beautiful guitars and 2,000 dollar amps, have become the kids that play Rebel Yell on Guitar Hero on the big screens at Best Buy as loudly as possible. I received Guitar Hero World Tour for Christmas and for once, had become decent at the game. When I saw these two hipsters playing, I noticed that they were playing on medium, and I thought to myself: "I might be ready to play Guitar Hero in public on hard and show these kids the rock star that I am". Fortunately I snapped out of it, but the emotion is real for so many other people who play the game. Think about it. The kids that are really good at Guitar Hero, Madden, World of Warcraft, Flight Simulator and so many others, really think that they are rock stars, pro-athletes, Mages, Cpt. Sullys, and life affectionados. You can't land a plane in six steps, even if you were a pro, just like you can't play guitar with five colored buttons and a strum bar, or win the super bowl with X,Y,O, and []. You are not an honorary Army Ranger or Special Forces bad ass because you are good at Call of Duty, nor are you by any means qualified to handle a firearm because you are deadly on a 1st person shooter.

At what point did our proficiency at video games translate into our life proficiency? It's always great to see Army recruiting stations because some are loaded with video games with "accurate" war-time situations. The Army knows. You think you're a bad ass because you're good at video games. You think that you can save the world. When you end up in Iraq with limited ammo and no health packets on the ground to instantly replenish your health indicator, you just done gone and fucked yourself.

I hope that Cpt. Sully knows that all he needed was 6 steps, just as I hope that Jimmy Page knows that all he really needed was 5 buttons and a strum bar. I'm just glad that I played Gran Turismo on PS back in '99, because the first day that I drove my minivan instead of my souped up GTO, I knew that reality was a bitch.


For your own, private time...
http://www.wikihow.com/Land-an-Airplane-in-an-Emergency

Facebooked Part I: I'm Being Stalked, But Everybody Seems Okay With This...

It's a very interesting concept, this Facebook thing. As a sociology student, Facebook provides a cornucopia of avenues for social research and insight into the patterns of human interaction and virtual identity. The best part is, it's all in the same place and accessible to everyone all the time. Though I could dedicate a my life to the study of Facebook, I'll only address it as it individually applies to me.

Recently, I have spent some time thinking about the well known and probably overused term "Facebook Stalking". Users of Facebook say this when they want to justify browsing through some body's profile looking for revealing pictures or try to get a pulse on somebody's life. Generally, the positive thing about Facebook over Myspace is that you have to be friends with the person before you can learn their juicy details and look at their bikini pictures. This has granted users a variable sense of security knowing that only people they allow can "stalk" them.

Of course, now we know who's looking because they ask to add us as friends.

I used to not be selective when I received Facebook friend invites. Generally, they were people at my university and since we were all freshman and sophomores, we were "friending" all the people that we could to keep our fingers on the pulse of the campus community. Granted, this has led to a post-graduation, "who is this" which often tempts me to go through and "de-friend" people, although I currently do not have the balls to do this do to my perceived social consequences of sed act (maybe a later "Facebooked" entry?).

As more schools joined Facebook (you used to have to have a school e-mail to join...) and then eventually, the general public was allowed to join (enter pre-pubescent Myspacers with mirror self-portraits) Facebook became a walk down memory lane. People would search by their old high schools and find a slew of people scattered across the country. Through a social chain of events, people you knew in grade school suddenly became your Facebook friends.

When professors in college started using Facebook as a means of communication, this was generally okay. Students have a hard time envisioning that their profs might have social lives, and Facebook helped to reiterate, and sometimes disprove that fact (popular teachers are obviously more cyber-relevant).

I was suddenly stunned when a former high school teacher asked me to be his Facebook friend. I wasn't necessarily stunned that it was THIS particular teacher, although that in-it-of-itself was intriguing. What startled me was that this older gentleman was using Facebook to friend former students and even more creepy, current ones. What is a high school teacher going to do with the ability to "Facebook stalk" the overtly attractive and readily-illegally seductive girls at this private high school in Orange County? Does this strike anybody as being inappropriate? I'm not suggesting that teachers who friend students are predatory. But in high school, this seems a little too potentially hazardous, and maybe some of this is because I know this man can be a little "too close for comfort" sometimes.

I denied this man's friendship. I don't want to be on his Facebook page when he gets subpoenaed. More importantly, I don't want to be part of any potential indulgence in a social fantasy as created and manipulated by Facebook. For this reason, I have closed my doors to mass Facebook immigration. Somewhere Facebooker's have to draw the same line. Who am I going to allow access to my photos and info? Though parents are cool online, and some college profs, high school teachers with a primary friend list of students doesn't seem like a safe move.

Unfortunately, we're comfortable being stalked to some degree now. More disastrously, we're comfortable volunteering information to friends we hardly know anymore and or we haven't spoken to since youth. The more that Facebook becomes popular, the more prone it becomes to become predatory (like Myspace) for older people to "stalk" younger people through the elimination of social boundaries through online globalization. Perhaps the only redeemable element is that on Facebook, we choose our friends and the public does not have access to our info and pictures. If this eventually changes, than Facebook becomes a place for 13 year olds to create 18 year old virtual identities and post submissive self-portraits for clandestine social consumption.

Who’s looking at your info? Your vacation pictures? Your relationships? I think the reality is that we don’t know. But the worse reality is that we don’t care…

OC Gym Culture: Home of the Broski

I've recently joined a gym. So far this has been a great decision, but it has reminded me about the types of people that go to the gym. I knew upfront that there would be beefcakes when I decided to join, but my most interesting observation has centered around another gym goer.

Music has a great way of setting the mood. Gym music is generally designed around this concept blending modern top 40 with pounding rhythm of the gym cacophony. I had forgotten my iPod yesterday and was subject to the mercy of the gym XM channel. All of a sudden a true gem of alternative rock came over the ambient speakers. "Stacy's mom has got it goin on..." What a great tune. I looked around the upstairs cardio area and realized that I was surrounded by a bunch of "Stacy's moms". Yes, the real housewives of Orange County, at the corporate LA Fitness at four o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. After all, no mother with any real responsibility could afford to gym it up at 4 in the afternoon. One OCmom was on the elliptical and clearly "workin it". The best thing about an OCmom is that when a young, firm high school girl walked by them to use a treadmill, they didn't follow her with judging eyes, dreaming of the days when they too were nubile. No. These moms still believe that they are as they once were.

I can't decide which is a more disturbing image. The OCmom that treats the gym like a second, forbidden, and exotic sexual partner. Or the beefcake that looks like Jude Law and his Latin friend who drink a creamy pink liquid while they groan in each others faces and check themselves out in the wall of mirrors by the weights. These guys watch with judging eyes as guys like myself (who can generally hold my own at the gym) work with weights a fraction as heavy as their own in a college underarmour shirt and my high, running style shorts. I pay them no mind. If i wanted to look like a roided Jude Law, I'd adjust the hair on my balding head too, drink creamy pink liquid and constantly scan for chicks to walk by before starting my reps.

I would say that the gym-goers fortunetly have a "do your own thing man" attitude. Generally we're good natured. I wonder if other people are preturbed by bra-less moms and beefcakes, although I'm starting to think that the two compliment eachother beautifully. Cougars and broskis getting ready for the weekend charge into irresponsibility and an overindulgence in the virtual identity making guys like myself gratefull that I don't subscribe to this particular form of bullshit.

The Martians Are Here...Or Maybe I'm Just Becoming Snobby...

I work in a three story building on the third floor. The building belongs to the state and specifically hosts seminars, workshops, computers, and other various resources dedicated to helping the unemployed find jobs. The company I work for is not affiliated with the rest of the building, even though we help individuals find jobs too. This was casually reminded to me when one of the federal workers came up to me and told me that "for once, the private sector is making more than the feds" and that he was getting ready to take his mandatory furlough tomorrow.

Though the building is usually very busy, especially due to the large numbers of unemployment, most of the traffic is confined to the 1st and 2nd floors. This has meant that the 3rd floor has been very quiet and relatively professional. One of my favorite things about the 3rd floor are the bathrooms. There are only a few males that work on the 3rd floor, and we have taken great pride in our bathroom. It is always very clean, smells nice (as nice as a bathroom can smell I suppose), and is extremely private. One day I ventured into the bathroom on the 1st floor and decided that I could hold it...

This week, the 1st floor has been undergoing renovations. Since joblessness waits for no one, the 1st floor and its operations have been scattered throughout the 2nd and 3rd floors. When I heard loud noises on the 3rd floor, I peaked over my cubicle walls and saw stacks of computers and office equipment being moved in. At this point, I knew that we were in for the long haul.

Things have not become "loud" yet, even though there is an increase in the volume of people now (fortunately, the 2nd floor took the brunt of the people). What's most concerning surrounds my precious bathroom. The past 3 days when I've gone to take my pre-lunch tinkle, I have ran into a man, on his cell phone, sitting on the sink, facing the urinal. When I begin, he doesn't finish, rather, he walks into the bathroom lobby until I come out, then he walks back in. What's creepier is that he's talking about parole and the "system" and in comes white-boy-Steve, a member of "corporate" America.

What's worse, is that some of these people think that the floor has a self cleaning system, and that the toilet seats don't pivot up. This has left our floors cluttered with used paper and our toilet seats covered in driblets.

Maybe everybody is in a sudden hurry. The same hurry that negates all forms of elevator courtesy. I've begun to take the stairs because the elevators have become causeways of human indecency. People on their cell phones, cursing up a storm, rush into the elevators before others have a chance to step off. When the elevator doors open, there is somebody RIGHT up in your face who you have to do the awkward dance with before literally pushing them aside. Whatever happened to letting everybody off the elevator before getting on? Why do people wait point-blank at the elevator door? What the fuck is going on!

In the back of my mind, there is an ever apparent reason beyond the economy as to why some of these people aren't employed. There seems to be a lacking human decency or even worse, a failure to recognize ones surroundings. When somebody is speaking loudly on there cell phone right outside my cubicle, or pacing up and down the halls, I stand up and remind them that "this is an office" and direct him to one of the conference rooms to complete their call. It's one thing for an individual to talk loudly, it's another thing for that individual to be talking loudly to his parole officer, or welfare worker, or whatever have you.

I can't wait until the 1st floor is done...Or maybe I should post a sign that reads "No Cell Phones - I'm Trying to Poop".

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A Job Posting on Craigs List this morning...

SOMG TECHNICIAN (YORBA LINDA)

ECONO LUBE N' TUNE IS LOOKING FOR A SOMG TECH WITH NO EXPERIENCE, TO GROW WITH COMPANY, WORK ON SALARY AND COMMISSION BASES, MONDAY THROUGH SATURDAY, NO EXCEPTIONS, GREAT FRIENDLY ENVIROMENT. GREAT MECHANICAL EXPERICE WILL BE ACQUIRED FROM CHEIF MECHANICS, SERIOUSE CANDIDATES ONLY PLEASE.
CALL 714-961-8100 , OR 714-961-0100 ASK FOR JOHN OR RAY

You've gotta be smarter than this guy...if you could bring yourself to walk in...what the fuck happened to elementary school and spelling? There is no hope...

Observations of a Mickey Deez...

Today I found myself at a McDonalds in Signal Hill (for the record, I would never CHOOSE to go to McDonalds, but the guys I was with insisted that we go...). I ordered a new McCafe iced coffee and sat down. Since I wasn't eating, and the guys I was with didn't talk much, I watched.

I haven't been in many McDonalds, but this one seemed different. Classical music piped through the dining area, louder than typical ambient music, creating an atmosphere that was more like a Peet's Coffee than a McDonalds. It was evident that the music was setting the tone from the customers first step in the store. The employees were wearing blue oxford shirts, black slacks, and a small red scarf with tiny paisley like the accoutrament of an aristocrat in smoking jacket.

Yes, something was indeed different. Three inspirational posters hung on the wall with whimsical pictures of moutain tops and roads leading to the horizion with titles like "Success", "Innovation", and "Determination". On the other walls, black and white photos of Long Beach elite from the early 20th century hung in rememberance of the once prosperous oil fields in Long Beach. Most stunning was a mural covering an entire wall. It was reminicent of a Diego Rivera piece with proud, tall, American men, pulling themselves up by their own bootstraps with the image of an oil pump on the horizion.


A young man walked in the door wearing an untucked white button down shirt over baggy black slacks. He was carrying a folder with him, clearly for an interview with the two women behind me dressed in business attire with a laptop on the table and a McDonalds employment packet in plain sight. He kindly introduced himself and it was obvious to me that he was being as polite as possible even though first glances would probably stereotype him as a thug. For a man probably versed in "street", he spoke with the best grammer that he could and apoligized for being late.

"Yes, your very late."
"I aplogize for that."

She allowed him to give his story, but clearly wanted to tell him what he probably already knew.

"You have to be on time. No questions. I'm with somebody else right now, so have a seat and we'll see if we can squeeze you in."

She had established her ground. Now any future interview would be seen as gracious by this man. The man took a seat. The woman had not been with somebody else, except for her associate. Nobody else had come in before the man, an nobody had come in by the time that we had left and they beckoned the man to literally stand before them like a plaintiff behind the podium.

I couldn't help but think of how "corporate" this interview had seemed. I was amazed at how quickly she had to establish herself as the "decider" and be ruthless to this poor man, probably victim of the recession just like everybody else. I couldn't help but to think, "this is a McDonald's for God's sake!"

Through the glamor of the store, the bittersweet harmony of the working poor interlaced the classical music in the background. Today at McDonalds, somebody all but got on their knees for the same crappy job that begged to be seen as prestigious by the "lucky" few behind the counter. The same few that grinned and beared it when their co-worker/manager poked and proded them when it was clear that they were having a bad day. The same few that offered a kind a courteous smile and attitude to the prick in line who thought that he was at a five star establishment, and the same few that constantly wish for better circumstances.

How ironic that the interview was taking place out of sight from the counter; facing the murals, posters, and pictures; facing success and prominence. Around the corner, the stark reality of the working poor, and the unforgiving environment of a job where you can be replaced so easily by thousands of applicants willing to dress their best and agree to anything during a "gracious" interview.

Maybe troubling times strip us of our dignity. Like the man who was asked to wait to demonstrate a point and the co-worker who clenched her mouth shut. The individual who looses their job with benefits and joins the entry-level job force with a high school kid as their manager. The man in painters clothes that sits on the corner of the freeway exit, pacing. The man who reads Kellerman outside the Starbucks with his possessions in a shopping cart. The woman who carpools to the career center on her friends borrowed time in her friends borrowed car. The doctor who passes it all by in his Mercedes.

And the job developer who can't help but feel that his efforts are in vain...

How To Win at Panhandling | Cracked.com (This might come in handy someday for us Liberal Arts majors...)

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HAHAHAHAHAHA...His ego is probably bruised...

A Moment of Realization Part II...

I have 175 friends on Instant Messenger. I only talk to 4 regularly, and maybe 10 every now and then. I've noticed that there are a lot of screen names that, even if they are "online", I tend to ignore, or I feel like I would have nothing to say.

The question then becomes, well, why don't you delete the ones that you don't talk to? Basic answer, I don't want to be awkward...

I had a friend in college who, for no bad reason, I gradually faded out of communication with. Every so often, I would drop her a random one line message about the band The Killers, or some other interest that we had in common. She would type "Oh hey Steve!!" and so the convo would go. It's been a while since we have spoken. Since that time, a new Killers CD has come out. Yesterday I asked her how she liked the new CD and she didn't respond...

A similar situation occurred when I send another friend a text. This friend I didn't think was "fading" away, but for whatever reasons, she did not know that the text had come from me. The obvious conclusion here is one of two: 1.) my number is no longer in her phone and therefore come up as unidentified. 2.) she had a pet name for me that she forgot. I'm hoping that it's the first one...this was an "ouch" moment. Of course she apologized and needless to say, I'm back in her phone, but it got me thinking...how many people have taken me off of their buddy lists or phones???

Graduation brings a lot of changes, and some people are anxious to leave chucks of it behind quickly. This can often mean a purging of things like cell phone numbers and online friends (Facebook seems immune to this however). I've contemplated "purging" my AIM and cell numbers but when I go through them, I think, "Oh, I might want to talk to them again someday, or, I want them to come up on my caller id so that it's not awkward".

It can be AWKWARD when you try to reconnect with somebody who has purged you from their systems. At least I can honestly say that the two cases above are people who I am on good terms with. But it goes without saying that when you clean up, you don't just clean up bad stuff, you clean some good unused stuff too. Yes, I have proof that I have been unused for a while...but I think that that's okay. After all, at this point, my friends from college are starting their own busy lives and short of the reunions, contacts will be limited. I am not doubting that more of my friends will be surprised to see my number pop up from time to time. But like I said, I'm okay with this. Besides, we're getting to that age where we don't have time for AIM and extended phone calls about anything anymore.

I guess that this is life's natural way of "fading" out people. I just hope I can stall it for as long as possible.

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5 Douchebag Behaviors Explained by Science. They're not just douchebags, they're very sick people and they deserve your pity.

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A Moment of Realization...

I've come to grips with the fact that I may be a partial hypochondriac. I wouldn't say that I'm abnormally anxious about my health, but I am definitely anxious most of the time.

I've been attempting to trace the causes of my anxiety in an effort to convince myself that I'm not actually physically sick (mentally, we're still trying to ascertain...haha). It recently dawned on me last night while I was eating frozen yogurt with a dear friend.

She had been explaining the sudden diagnosis and prognosis of a friend of hers. Stage 4 cancer of the brain. This individual is 23 and has a bright and academic future. I recalled that I too knew of a few classmates our age (23) that had also recently been diagnosed with terminal diseases. I mentioned something then that after thinking about, I realized was all too true. I mentioned that her and I had been conditioned from an early age to understand the reality of cancer in young adults. When we attended high school together, one of our classmates was diagnosed with breast cancer at 16 and died at 17 from the disease. Of course for the invincible high school student, this was a hard dose of reality.

I can trace my own anxieties to the events surrounding this student's death. Suddently, every bodily pain became worrisome and as I got older, the constant worrying and seemingly lethargy of my doctors left me without the answers that I "needed" to get over it. The more that you worry about things, the worse they eventually get. Eventually my stress started leading to more physical pain and so on until I was convinced that I was dying.

Of course, as far as I know I am not. But how is it that the frequency of our friends dying young and of freak accidents is seeming to increase? As I drove home from yogurt I thought about one thing in particular, Facebook.

Facebook keeps everybody up to date on everybody's lives. Users are literally connected to thousands of people either directly or indirectly. When somebody gets ill, or dies, groups are created to show support, and without a doubt, some of your friends will join this group. When your friends join the group, it shows up on your daily status feed and so you click on the group. Suddenly, by proxy, you feel connected to this person. Friends that would have fallen through the cracks without Facebook are suddenly back in your life. I think that when this happens, suddenly the large social world comes into a very small focus and the small frequency of "freak" illnesses and deaths suddenly become very close to home.

I might be suggesting that some of my anxiety and others anxiety about health issues stems from the fact that our social scope now includes a much broader network of people whose lives we are suddenly connected to.

So the question now becomes, how do we combat the social anxiety stemming from a wide social scope? As I previously mentioned, my friend and I actually know individuals who were killed or who are sick. For us, it goes a little more in depth than just anxiety by proxy, but I think that the approach can still be the same. It's important to remember that freak accidents and illnesses are in fact, freak. Going to college, being on a social networking site, and keeping up with friends from high school exposes you to A LOT of people. Surly, amongst those people, statistically, somebody will get sick, and somebody may die. This may seem to be a fatalistic approach, but there is some truth to it.

For now, I'm going to try to keep things in perspective. Perspective can be the only check on scope I feel. We have to do the best with what we're given, and leave the rest to chance.

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Hahaha

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