The game....

Seriously, is it really that easy? I gave women a lot more credit. I've heard about Players and this Game that they run. Insult first, come up with an icebreaker, summon forth a positive memory or thought to associate with yourself... O RLY?

Please tell me the long lost art of saying "Hi" is not lost. At least, not yet. A buddy of mine swears by this. He does it almost every time we go out; he'll try and run some method or another on a female. And it usually works! I hate to admit it but he just might have a point. On a random note: A writing sample? Seriously?! Maybe I'm outraged because I struggle so much with talking to girls. Hating on guys who follow this mythical playbook? Absofuckinglutely. It's inane, it's manipulative, and it's the reason why I gave my ex a longstanding suspicion of men as a separation present.

I like just saying hi and working magic from there. It's always a risk approaching someone, anyone especially when it comes to hoping they acknowledge you in that special "Let's get nekkid" kinda way. I want to say it doesn't come down to a simple formula of actions and steps. Sure it takes practice and quick thinking in action but the tool still exists for a tool to use.

I'm a romantic when it comes to this stuff, and I'm sure it doesn't apply to all women. Maybe they do initially have an attraction depending on the way the guy makes his approach and I just see it as sleazy because I know what they're doing. Ok, ultimately a woman digs a man with confidence, which I can't argue with. Who would want to deal with a guy who can't stand up straight? It could be that having a plan and a tool puts these guys in the mindset a woman finds awesome. It's not the approach but the practitioner. Whatever it takes to get someone to work up the nerve, right? Ah well, knock yourselves out people. Maybe social darwinism'll kick in and you guys have enough rope to hang yourselves.

When Harry Met Sally...

"Female friends are girls you just haven't slept with yet."- not sure where this came from.


Harry Burns: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: How do you know?
Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally Albright: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally Albright: What if THEY don't want to have sex with YOU?
Harry Burns: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally Albright: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry Burns: I guess not.
Sally Albright: That's too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.


I hate to admit it, but I get really affected by ideas I see in movies and tv. Pop culture and John Cusack shaped a whole lot of my personality, even Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew. I'm a bit more than that I know, but to say I didn't internalize anything I've watched time and again would be some outright bullshit.

Let's go with my perspective on what really amounts to something honestly pretty silly. It's when boy meets girl (or in our day and age, anyone that fits our romantic orientation.) "When Harry met Sally" has this whole dialogue about how (straight) men and women cannot be friends since from the start there's an underlying sexual tension, especially on the guy's part.

I like this idea. A majority of the reason a guy would approach a girl is to see if he can hit on her, and possibly pursue more. I've done it. I have friends who have done it. Hell I know girls who have done it. Ladies, don't fool yourselves. By the time a guy's approached you, chances are he's imagined you naked or will in the next few minutes. Of course this does not necessarily hold in the case of job interviews, family functions, etc. Mostly just in social, informal interactions and events. This all only applies if the guy is straight though. I am not bi or gay so I cannot comment on that. But to be honest it's that initial attraction and promise of naked dancing that a guy would even say hi to a girl. Maybe it's a momentary lapse in judgment or an extreme circumstance. But normally you'd be hard-pressed to figure any other reason that a male would approach the female unless he wants to "make time."

Even when the relationship evolves into a platonic kind of situation, that only exists because a conversation started due to the initial attraction. We approach because we want to bone. If we become friends and we're ok with that, that's what we'll do. If not, we'll bide our time, build a case for ourselves, and one day maybe reach that Breaking Point. You know the one. Standing outside with a boombox. Declaring affection in a public space or in a car during a rainstorm. Maybe writing a note and taping it in someone's locker. Risk all that friendship to maybe just maybe hit that level we initially wanted to be. And maybe just maybe it will work! Or we cut our losses and drop the entire situation.

It doesn't have to be that way, and we're evolved enough that it doesn't have to end like that, but that attraction is/was/will be there. Whether to act or write it off is on our end. The whole thing isn't rocket science. Girls I've known either try to defuse the guy and keep him as a friend, or remain blissfully oblivious to "Hey, this guy might like me! He does things for me and makes me presents, but of course he's just a really good friend even when he writes poetry about me."


Shame on me for not seeing things for what they were. Shame on you for trying to have your cake and eat it too.


More on this later, I'm sure.

Now I remember...

This past weekend I subjected myself to the phenomena known as "clubbing." The place? Crobar. The time? 11ish. The fun? Meh!

Seriously, it was one of the nicer looking places I've been to. Reasonably spacious, good looking crowd, dark, even some kickin' beats. Was it a be-all end-all good time? Not for me. I've never been a person who feels comfortable or does well in a club. I've been told it's a state of mind. I don't feel like picking girls up in places like that, I'd much rather try in a bar or some other setting where... I don't know... I can actually talk to the girl. The loud music, the requirement for first appearances, having to resort to mind-fuck manipulation, it's too much work and involves too much planning/preparation. I suppose I'm jumping the gun, not thinking about the act of interacting but instead focusing on the outcome and future of doing that. Considering what a waste of time it is between myself and whoever I'd be trying to pick up.

Whatever, I was there for a birthday anyway. The place was a once-in-a-while deal, but I'll stick with my guns. Which right now remain holstered, all the same.

THINK! YOU GOTTA THINK (THINK)

(Xposted from myspace)

And henceforth, let it be noted that I do none of the following-

1) I do not work at Wal-Mart
2) I do not work at Target (anymore)
3) See 1 and 2.
4) I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING PIZZA DELIVERY GUY.

The past few months (and even farther back) have been pretty eye opening. Usually when I visit a department store, it's so I can do one thing- SHOP. Once upon a time in a land called Undergraduate I worked at Target. I have since left that continent for the 9-5erland. HOWEVER, as was the case two weeks ago in Target, in the span of maybe 20 mins. I was mistaken for an employee twice. I had a shopping cart full of goods (that I was buying), a pair of cargo shorts (not khaki), and a BLACK ARMY SURPLUS VEST on. Once, a woman asked if I knew where facial cleanser was. The second time was better- I needed pop and two ladies had decided to park their carts abreast the entire aisle. Moving one aside, I reached for my poison of choice, only to be interrupted. Turning around, an Old Lady asked me every so sweetly, "Excuse me, do you have anything here without Splenda?"

.......

Goddammit.

I told her I didn't work at Target, and she at first continued to look at me, as if staring me down would make me break down, that I had tried to confuse her. That I TRULY DID WORK at Target, and here was Mr. Smart Guy trying to lie to her. Her excuse for such an assumption, "Oh, you were just so efficient!"

Riiight. Meaning I know what I want, and don't have to piddle-paddle over every single damn ingredient on the label. The Springtime of Youth!

At Wal-Mart, employees wear vests with "HOW MAY I HELP YOU?" Emblazoned in big white letters against a dark navy background. Ineffectual. As I can attest, with every visit I've had at Wal-Mart SOMEONE thinks I work there. I could be shopping, I could be elbows-deep in the bargain video game bin. Someone always thinks I know how to work the self-serve register (which I do, but still not my concern) or where Some Item is in the store. T-shirt/shorts/sandals, hat, doesn't matter.

Maybe one day I should go to wal-mart dressed up like I work at Target. Name tag and everything.

The best had to be when I was at ACen this past year. I had some leftover pizza in a box, wearing my staff badge, tank top, Autobot forehead protector, a pair of shorts. I was standing in the lobby looking for my friends and some chap comes running up to me, holding his wallet.

"Excuse me! Medium pepperoni, extra cheese...?"
*blank stare from me*
*....Dawn of Realization from him*
"You aren't the Pizza Guy, are you?"
"No.... CON STAFF."
*dejection as he turns around and walks away.



....... Yeah. That right there is the topper I think.


For the record, that was pizza for my damn roommates, thanks.


Can some people please take a moment before assuming something about someone who is OBVIOUSLY NOT IN THE STORE UNIFORM?

Thankfully, it doesn't happen with EVERYBODY in the store. There's hope yet!

It happened..... on the TRAIN!

Once upon a Red Line…

The journey started simple enough, just another day getting on the red line- destination: Home. Lucky enough to have a seat to myself, I found my eyes wandering around the car as always, watching… waiting. Finally, the Red Line Theater was about to begin.

A 30ish man had positioned himself at one door of the train, leaned against the glass partition leafing through a copy of a periodical entitled, Black Men. On the cover, some young ingénue whose name was unimportant, since her assets were plastered all over where the text on the cover would be. Look left, a woman in her 20s is reading a book.

Then… her eyes go up. Focusing on the man ahead of her she sees the magazine. He’s tilted it while reading, exposing the women on the pages to her own line of sight. Her eyes slit, the train seems to quiet down. She casts her gaze downward to the knowing pages of her book, but they swing back up again. And again. One more time, and each successive look seems to furrow her brow deeper and deeper. The air is thick with intent, disgust, and restraint. She seems revolted, that someone could so openly parade a magazine full of half-naked ladies so shamelessly: especially under the guise of mouthing the words as if he were actually reading instead of flipping from photo spread to photo spread. She would rip that magazine out of his hands, if she wanted to.

Instead, she resolutely looks back down to the pages of her book, forgetting about the ladies draped all over his pages. The train, like time, moves on… until the next stop, at least. There was a woman next to the reading woman, taking up a seat next to the aisle. She got up, leaving a spot next to the reader vacant. The Magazine Man, took notice and decided to become the new occupant.

Needless to say, Reading Woman was a little off-put to say the least. She glanced at the Magazine Man and then quickly replaced her bookmark, closed up, then stood up at the next stop, distancing herself quite expeditiously. Salvation came when another passenger disembarked, leaving her an open seat nowhere near Magazine Man.

Her dilemma wasn’t finished yet though… oh lord no. She reached her destination alright… but it was Magazine Man’s stop too.

Got friends in low places?

So I'm friends on the internet...

It should be no surprise that I'm on an on-line networking web site. Blogger's probably just one, but there are others (I'm sure you can guess). Anyway, like some folk I fall prey to getting caught up in celebrity. You know, being the fan of another human being, believing they can do no wrong, that they are certainly wonderful people in all aspects and most definitely deserving of my accolades and attention.

Scarlett Johannson, please write back.

On these networking sites you can most certainly find some representation of someone that entertains you. Maybe that band you <3 or someone from the evening news. In my case, some female personalities from a certain channel that starts with a letter and ends with a number. That's not M2.

Anyway, surprise surprise they were on the network, and I found them. What follows are the usual stages of disbelief, uncertainty, curiosity and finally elation/acceptance. What happened in this case, I was all ready to become a close compatriot. Until I noticed that magic phrase. You know, the one that says, "So and so has XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX friends"
w.t.f.

I could become one of many, but honestly what would be the point? A face in thousands, probably saying the same things "Thanx for the add!" "U R HOTT" "Please writ me bak k." (no joke) that have all been there before.

What drove me nuts upon perusing the pages was the kinds of comments, much the adorementioned poetry above. While some nice, others a majority of either creepy, sexual, asking for a return message, anything. Holy crap. Maybe that's why celebrities lock themselves up in LA behind a sea of bodyguards: If people do that on the net, how will the be in public? And while some comments are true gems, the are truly lost to the number of one-lliners and requests. I don't even expect a message back if I were to send one but I'd at least like to know whoever didn't have to dig thru 30 "plz picz" messages they had before getting to mine. As with most things, 90% is god-awful save the genuine 20%. And you just contribute more stuff, more drivel that's probably not being read due to the volume of stuff that preceded you.

Regardless, how about less hero worship, more demands for non-Star Trek or street fury programming? Less being enamored for people on tv and more going out to play?

I will say this though:

Thank you to the 10% who go out there and put stuff up worth reading :)

Aye-aye!

This be September 19th! Be sure to touch yourself and the pirate within! Plenty to be both-arrred about, and nev-arrr-mind the funny looks! Have fun with today, and be sure to drop anchor and grab your booty!


Savvy?


With most incredible salutations,

Red Dirk Sassmouth

My bags are packed; I'm ready to go...

I'll be off to Rosemont today, writing for www.acen.org providing as-it-happens coverage of the event! Just one of many staffers writing, I'll have my assignments and then will update @ www.acen.org as time allows.

There'll be some material to follow when I get back on Monday; count on it.

Am I thrilled? Yes. Jazzed? Yes. Can't wait for 5 PM to get the fuck here already? Yes.

72 hours of fandom and fandumb. Hopefully I see more of the former than the latter. I'm compiling my list of "to-gets" already, and can't wait to see what the exhibit hall holds for me. There's the viewing rooms, the game rooms, the interesting characters I'll be working with and running into, it's going to be a good time. I have only been to three conventions in the past but by golly that number is going to get bigger and bigger. But until 5 PM... all I can do is wait. And work. More later.

WOOOO!!! RESOLUTION! (click here for link)

Hell YES! Way to go...

WTF Bush!?

Holy freaking crap. I'll let the article speak for itself.

I thank the 80s.

For completely skewing my perception of teen-life. "Lucas." "Fast times at Ridgemont High". "Ferris Bueller's Day off". "The Breakfast Club". Most John Cusack films from this decade. Think about it. "Not Another Teen Movie" nailed a few of the conventions right on the head, especially that really poignant moment where one person claps, followed by the rest of the school, even the people that made fun of the main character that FINALLY CAME AROUND. Happy happy joy joy.

There was the snobby rich, talented, special motherfucker that made life hell for the often socially ill-equipped/misfit/poor protagonist who was special in a nontraditional kind of way (look at "Karate Kid" for the archetype of the anatagonist and "Revenge of the Nerds" as our usual heroes.) These guys always came out on top. With a bit of drive, motivation, and a montage 2 hours later, they were victorious to thunderous applause and Queen on the soundtrack.

I grew up on these flicks but by the time they would have applied to my life, I was 10 years out of date. Those "bad" guys did not exist. I ended up trying to make sense of the world by applying all those situations I only knew about from film to my everyday life, and in doing so I became those archetypes. I became that social misfit. I wasn't able to see what I was doing or catch myself because I wanted to see myself in those roles, and eventually come out on top to thunderous applause. Sadly, I had no "Duckey" or "Goose" or "Louis" to call me on my own BS. (Coincidence that two of those characters were played by Anthony Edwards? Who knows?) Cliche after cliche, "scene" upon scene was what I was doing. I considered myself so highly that I wanted to be that tragic hero. The only thing tragic was that I believed what came off of some hack's typewriter and though Hollywood = 4LYFE. But what can you do, huh? I love those films. With all the suspension of disbelief included, they told good stories. But that's all. Stories.

That which we treasure... a mix tape.

“The making of a great compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do and takes ages longer than it might seem. You gotta kick off with a killer, to grab attention. Then you got to take it up a notch, but you don't wanna blow your wad, so then you got to cool it off a notch. There are a lot of rules. Anyway... I've started to make a tape... in my head... for Laura. Full of stuff she likes. Full of stuff that makes her happy. For the first time I can sort of see how that is done.”
“High Fidelity” – 2000 – Touchstone pictures

The mix tape. Or just the “Mix.” We’ve all made them. Usually for another person or just to remind us of that person. Maybe it’s a particular mood we want to capture, or an event we’d like to assign to memory through song. One further way to personalize something, make it ours that much more. The ladies were my subject usually. Whenever I became enamored with a female, I never had the courage to just approach her and see what happens. I would give her a mix tape and hope she “got it.” I was telling her things that I couldn’t say, what I was too shy or cowardly to in the first place. It was a way for me to put myself out there, but not really. She could look into things as she saw fit, and take things accordingly. Either she could ignore my feelings or it would sweep her off her feet.

Normally, I got the former.

Ever since sixth grade, mix tapes were my one weapon that I thought were special. There were the classic, not-so subtle titles I chose most often. The Smoking Popes “I need you around” or “Everything I Do, I Do it for you” by Bryan Adams for starters. Aerosmith’s “Angel” was one I was particularly proud of myself for choosing, once upon a time. Naturally, I would mix these songs with favorite artists of the intended, so as to keep them interested and not make the tape so “I want you” heavy. To me, the mix tape was that final, declaring dialogue at the end of a film where the man and the woman finally come clean and run into each other’s arms, to the final song on his mix tape for her. Too bad I hadn’t figured it was the movies; and that shit don’t happen in real life. The quote I included at the beginning outlines what you should do… a good start to get worked up to a final, crashing, powerful finish. Kind of like screaming, grab-the-headboard-sex.


Regardless, I’m glad I made those tapes. Each one was special for the intended, and in most cases even though nothing good came from them, I hope at least they liked the music. And it was a gauge for me about them. One girl didn’t like the oldies music I had put on there, so far as calling it “gay.”

Bitch done got kicked to the curb. Not just for that though, but I knew then and there it was the beginning of the end.

So now I’m dating a wonderful girl, but here’s the problem. I haven’t made her a mix. It’s been a way for me to get the girl, I don’t know what to put on there now that I’ve already got her. I don’t have anything worth putting on there because I’ll tell her myself. I don’t need someone else to say it for once. It would be such a different tape for me, because this isn’t about my feelings for once, she knows those. It’s about her, me, where are, and where we’re going. And that’s a lot to encapsulate in 17 songs.
Yes, yes mix tapes at the most basic are a way for one person to expose someone else to new music. My non-flirting (at least in his own mind) friend D does this. He made my other male friend K a mix tape. Does this mean he wants to engage in hot man-sex with him? Nope. Unless there’s something they’re not telling me, but as far as I know they’re both straight as arrows. REGARDLESS of purpose, a mix tape is a collection of songs that one by one are great, but together form a musical Voltron. I ask that folks respect the ability it takes to put a good mix together. And thanks for all the FALSE IMAGERY AS TO THE POWER OF A MIX TAPE, HOLLYWOOD. GEEZ.

You can never look back... can you?

Just when I thought I was out...

So for the past four years, I've managed to lose contact with and/or cut off interaction with a good number of folks from my past. Now, like an itch in my back nostalgia has come and hit me hard for the past few months. I honestly don't know why I am looking, but I am finding people from my past again. At Harry Potter, I saw an old classmate. Sometimes I'll run into others on the train. Just yesterday, an old acquaintance from my dorm. It's amazing how if you stay in the same areas that no matter how much seems to change things always stay the same (to use a cliche). There's not a lot to it, though. I don't even know where to begin, much less what I'll say when it happens.

In High school, it was what college I was going to, or what neighborhood I was from. In College, the questions were what my major was, what my ACT/SAT scores were, and now that I'm graduated it's what I'm doing now and what I studied and/or where I came from. These are the questions I answer most, but it seems like the same people just at different times in our lives. One gigantic circle, having spent so much time away but now rooted back in.

And I am totally buying into it. I'm trying to maintain my current associations, reforging ones I feel I missed out on, and I don't even know why I'm contacting people again in some cases. In some ways I feel I have unfinished business. Other times, it's just curiosity or boredom. Usually the latter. Such is the way that things seem to go for me though, that no matter how far along I think I've come there's always some moment to bring me back, to shake me loose from whatever perch I've managed to hang onto. It's disturbing, comforting, and confusing as shit all at the same time. One of these days soon maybe I'll get it right and figure out where to go before I hold myself back in everything I feel I didn't do, in the days I can no longer change.

Ok Go - the concert

OK AWESOME!

This past Friday I had the unmitigated pleasure of watching an awesome band: Ok Go (www.okgo.net). The last single I had heard from them was "A Million Ways" and the first "Get over it." They rocked me crazy with both. (And not just because they danced their asses off in the former's music video.) I don't even know what songs they played, but each was awesome and got me moving. They covered the Violent Femmes, mixed the old and the new, culminating into the encore. The lead singer (Damian, so my girlfriend tells me) uses the stage well and even snuck into the crowd. It was great to see him perform so energetically, considering he had prefaced the entire performance by announcing he had had too much caffeine and not enough sleep.

Oh yeah. The encore. They dance. They danced HARD. Following a rant from Damian about the deteriorating values of an encore, the crowd was treated to a live performance of their "A Million Ways" interpretation, much appreciated by the crowd and this writer particularly for all the screaming that went on. They're real, yo. Straight up.

It was a good time at the Metro again, and the only thing that kept the night from being perfect was getting my bag checked... only to see some people hadn't been asked to do the same. Thankfully the staff was really respectful about addressing my concerns and spoke to me in a courteous manner. Cookie points to them.

Alas, the time did feel too brief, and I have no recollection about the opening bands but I did think they were pretty cool too. Ahh.... good times in Chicago.

THANKS OK GO!

A Night Out at the Club

And it's game time!


We're here at your fashionable nightclub. The beats be kickin, the bodies be sweatin', and the moves be spinning.

Opening up tonight is this classic match of nature vs. nurture, estrogen vs. testosterone; man vs. woman!

The rules tonight are simple: The woman's on defense, while the man is on the attack. After the coin toss, she has elected to have a friend dancing with her. If necessary they have also retained the right to gratuitously make out. The man has chosen to be a lone wolf tonight. As such, he is outfitted in the standard leather jacket, button down, and dark pants. Yes, it's a hot club. No, I don't know if HE knows.

And we're off!

The woman and her friend have advanced near the DJs booth, and they have set up a spot. Outfitted in her tube top and tight black pants, the woman and her friend are already cooking up hot mix on the dance floor. They don't even seem to be aware the man is in the vicinity. Nor should they care as into each other they seem. Dancing with each other the two women are doing quite nicely so far.

And here comes the man! Hands up, bouncing up and down at the knees with his feet flat, the guy is making his approach. One.... two..... three..... and he's in! The woman has turned around, oblivious to the man! And he's making his final sweep in.... contact! The man has attained contact! But how long can he hold? The woman upon leaving her back vulnerable has allowed the man to move onto her and start grooving with her... on her backside. They're moving and she seems receptive. She's grinding... grinding back... and the guy, both his hands STILL up, is going with it! We just might have a match here, ladies and gents.

Ooop, now the turning point. The song is dying down, and so is her groove. There it is, the moment of truth. She's turning around and facing the man....


OH THE HUMANITY! She's whipped her head around back to her friend! The look on her face is totally showing "OH MY GOD" and there it is, she's grabbed her friend and they're running away! They're retreating to the back! The man could not maintain! He could not maintain!

Yes folks, he's still dancing. With his hands up. Yes, the music has stopped. Oh wait... there he goes, he looks puzzled. Oop, there's the shoulder shrug, looks like we'll have a round 2 some other time tonight!




This little tale was inspired by true events. Poor bastard.

SERVED!

Yes folks. It happens to the best of us. Often when we least expect it, thus making the moment flood with a bitter, bitter taste.

I was served.

I wasn't just served plain, mind you. Oh no. I got served. BY DORKS. (Trust me, they were dorks. I smell my own.)

My friend "Aeris" and I were revelling in the Halloween deco at her neighborhood Target (boycott them! They allow their pharmacists to withhold emergency contraception and birth control on moral/religious grounds! And they eat babies!) and made our way to the toy section. There, she made the most fascinating discovery; a Lego-themed pirate game! It was awesome. She ran up calling my name and then holding the game abreast. Her face lit up with mirth, amusement, and joy as she presented the game to me. In its technicolor glory was the game clutched in her hands. She was excited and pleased as punch said, "I'm totally going to kick your ass."

I heard it, first. Snickering and laughter. Rolling into a grand crescendo, spilling against my ear like a cold November rain, like thunder only less threatening and slightly greasier a trio of Dorklings at the end of the aisle were within earshot. One leaned over and said, "She's totally going to kick your ass."

I was stunned. Assailed from two forces at once, I could only muster a weak "Yeah, yeah she is." Taken aback at the verbal sling I had just been shot with, Aeris and I made our way out of the aisle, towards sporting goods leaving the three headed beast of geekdom behind. Boosted a +1 machismo being next to the bats and weights, I loudly said "Wow, I just got served by DORKS. I was DORK-SERVED." Aeris, taking my lead followed with a few loud dorks of her own. "YOU JUST GOT DORK-SERVED!?" She iterated. More giggling ensued from the other aisle followed by "YEAHHHH DORKS!"

Yeah, I was served. Yeah, I was taken down a peg. But it took three of them to do so.

And I know the intimate touch of a woman.

+1 esteem + 20 I WIN POINTS.

I never really got out while I was in college. I would go to the occasional kegger, maybe a house party but I wasn't a partygoer by any real definition of the term.

HOWEVER. I like to consider myself a pretty observant dude and from those few times I did put on my brand new shirt I came away with a whole SLEW of information.

1) GENTLEMEN: We really need to figure out something ELSE to wear. C'mon, seriously. Girls have an assortment of tube tops, halters, blouses, nighties to wear to clubs so must we ALWAYS go with that button down/jeans combo? Bouncers, I can understand not letting in dudes with t-shirts, but we need some leeway!

2) LADIES: Quit with the girl-girl action. You're making it less hot. And you're totally ripping off action from bisexuals/lesbians.

3) THE GUY THAT ALWAYS HAS SHIRT UNBUTTONED:
-a) Shave your chest
-b) Stop. Just. Stop
4) DJs: Have more than an hours' worth of music ready, eh? REPLAYS SUCK
5) EVERYBODY: Seriously. Walk around the dance floor. If people are shaking their groove thing don't be idiots and start shoving people out of the way so you can drink your brain killer of the night. It's annoying as all hell and you're an outright disrespectful turd.

Oh yeah, now I remember why I don't go out that much.

Doh!

Anyone who knows me is well aware of the trials and tribulations I've had with the ladies. I am never nor do I believe will I ever be a smooth guy. My flirtation runs in the vein of dipping one's pigtails in the inkwell or saying she's got problems. Then there's the "innocuous approach" where I start out as a friend and then get shot down because I'm such a great friend. I've had girls cry after I've kissed them, been told they were too busy to see me for an entire quarter, I'm really sweet and will make a girl happy, the works. Basically, I win.

Then all that changed. As of March 2004, I met the most wonderful girl and we have been dating for about 19 months (18 if you ask her).

I'll spare the details about any further mushy behavior. You people came here to read something insightful, funny, and.... uhm... why are you here?!

Yeah. So it's a two way street. Maybe I should have made my intentions clear from the start. Maybe I shouldn't have expected the girls to "get the point." Maybe I shouldn't have been such a nice guy that they wanted to have their cake and date another guy that totally didn't treat them right while still having a guy emotionally there for them.

Cheer up, emo kid!

I'm a little bitter. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I hate the fact that I let those folks control my emotions and take energy, time, resources, and love from me yet never giving any back. It doesn't work that way because you give and give until finally you're husk, a shell of your former self. And I was there. I was that point where I was ready to hollow everything out just for the HOPE of a date. Cutting those connections were hard. Not the hardest, but pretty freaking tough all the same. Compared to other things I've been through they were small potatoes but that doesn't mean they hurt any less and that I am sitting calmly one day and get snapped into an old memory, out of the blue.

And then I run into someone, in person. Totally random, just they're there. They look a little different, slightly changed but deep in that exterior I see the face of someone I fell in love with so long ago. It's gone now but not without a little ache in a place long forgotten. By no means am I advocating to forget those come and gone, but I also worry that sometimes I'll get so mired in the past that I won't be able to move forward any more than I have now. It's especially hard now being out of school and not knowing what will come next. It's so easy to go back and look at the past and want to have that again in some way whether it is through seeing an old classmate or going back to high school. We've all done it, we all still do it. It sucks, it hurts, but it reminds me why I am where I am, and what I am to NEVER. EEEEEVER. DO. AGAIN.

Yeesh, very little sleep over the last couple of days. Nothing is coming out of this noggin' o' mine. Be back soon!

DRESDEN DOLLS - www.dresdendolls.com

So last night, I went to see a show with The First. The band was called, "The Dresden Dolls" consisting of only a pianist, drums, and sometimes guitar. (The true vowels, children.) Simply put, they rock. D (The First) had an awesome time as she loves them, and was singing along for most of the set, (whereas I sang along most of the time for Lucky Boys' Confusion.) They started the show with a White Stripes cover, and dressed up in drag and between songs they moved into regular costume (or as regular as I guess it was, as this was my first time seeing them. With the exception of the occasional asshole attendee that got invited to perform and the traditional "Freebird" request the show was great. They had slow songs, and songs that slapped you hard in the face with an aural assault of punching piano and deafening drums. The singer's voice is awesome, as she can do a note and scream at the same time. And her facial expressions are fantastic as I saw her move from touched to manic to outright rage and defiance through the set. The energy from the drummer was fantastic and this little column of mine will do him no justice. The fact I even try to describe her voice is arrogant on my part. There as another opening band (that we missed) and some side acts between the bands, such as a performance piece and a male contortionist (it's just not for Cirque Du Soleil!) along with this awesome marching band and some other street performers. There was an MC, Peter who was awesome to the crowd as well.

I do plan on following more of their music (and D does have the CD). D tried to get me to go to a show last year, but we didn't make it. I am definitely glad that I got to watch them this time. On a side note, best cover of "Hallelujah" I've ever heard. (Can anyone tell me if it was covered by Rufus Wainwright, or was that his own thing?)

More importantly though, the crowd was totally into it. Instead of something like Limp Bizkit or Creed where the crowd turned, this crowd was in costume, throwing up the horns, pumping their fists, and dancing. At least the ones on the main floor. Singing along adds so much to environment, it was almost electric with the way the crowd fed off them, and the DD gave it right back. Her voice was aching at the end but it only added to the impact of the music especially during "Hallelujah." I mentally began to draw some comparisons between her voice and Amy Lee's of "Evanescence" but D would kill me if I did, and each band is in a league of their own where comparison is really unfair to either.

By the way, if you're a TALL person, and you see someone short behind you, or someone's REALLY straining because you TOWER over them, how about letting them in front? Just to be a decent person. And if you think you're too cool to applause, scream and clap and would rather drink then sit the fuck down and let people who WANT to be there see the show. Whores.

Thanks to the Dresden Dolls. I hope to hear you again really soon. So much!