Friday, July 29, 2005

A woman just called and asked for someone who doesn't work here. When I said, "I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name," she said, "Oh I'm sorry, I made a bamboozle." I wanted to reach through the phone and shake her hand for being the first person I've ever heard use that word in earnest. (Spike Lee doesn't count. I heard that movie sucked).

Anyway, it reminded me of when I was eight and driving with my grandmother who, upon seeing someone change lanes without looking, declared, "he sure pulled a boner!". Naturally this was extremely hilarious at the time..... and actually, it still kinda is.

I'd like to see dated words and expressions make a comeback. I'm not suggesting we wash our hands of cultural vocabulary -- the "dudeicals" and "shitbags" certainly have their place. But at the risk of sounding like a cheesedick, there's something charming about antiquated sayings. So let's mix things up with some classier phrases.... you know, like "boner". Wouldn't that actually make us cooler? The broader your base of pastiche, the better, right? Hipsters, can I get an Amen?

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

no offense to horse inseminators
Ever wonder how horses knock boots when they're not in the wild? I mean, without Hitch, what are they supposed to do?? Well the Discovery Channel has made a show to address the question. It's called Dirty Jobs, and it entails a host who goes around and tries the gritty work of the marginalized. It kept our sake-soaked brains entertained for a couple episodes last night.

Some of it is kinda fascinating. You see the nuts and bolts of society -- garbage men, sewage inspectors, roadkill removers. And some of it's made just to turn you on, like the segment on horse inseminators who have to tame a giant horse penis, and then insert its "leavings" in the female horse which, because I know most of you don't keep vomit bags by your computer, I'll just say is accomplished with a plastic bag over one's arm. (The horse member was blurred for the kids). Hot, right? That show, back to back with Deadliest Catch, a kind of documentary about fishermen in the Baring Sea, almost made me happy about my job. Anything that can do that is pretty amazing TV.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

weddings are pretty sweet
I'll remember a lot of things about Taryn's wedding...

all the cool people I re/met, the bold get-down on the dance floor, seeing Taryn smile like I've never seen Taryn smile, leading the groom's men into the ceremony, the creepy 40 year old who I "made" Marah dance with at The Waterfront, Taryn's mom spooning cake in my coffee, the especially welcoming groom's men, some girl I didn't know yelling my name over the heads of dancers, etc.

But I'll also remember it as the weekend in which Marah and I perfected our changing in public skills. Going to San Diego, traffic was even more terrifying than predicted. There wasn't enough time to get to Leigh's place, so Marah got ready for the rehearsal, which included a hair-curling, in a Barnes and Noble bathroom, while I changed in my car. I'm pretty sure one woman thought I was sizing up her kid, from the look she gave.

What, a guy can't take off his shirt in a crowded parking lot?, I stared back.

Then, Saturday night in the parking lot after the wedding, set to go meet some folks at a bar, we changed in/around my car once again. But this trumped the first lot experience, because I was parked smack dab in front of the exit. So while guests poured out, we unbottoned shirts, removed socks, and pulled off dresses. Only the sober bartender commented, so I'm thinking either our small amount of discretion actually sufficed, or people were too drunk for it to really register.... who am I kidding, it was the latter.

I am already already missing it. Can someone cool get married every day, please, and invite us?

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

that guy's a total Chachi...
I heard there's new slang going around. Whenever you see a particularly tooly, douchy guy, you're supposed to call him a Chachi. I don't know how I'd feel if Brian became hip -- "God, I hate that Brian with the sideways trucker hat!". But this Chachi thing is making me really happy. I only picture Chachi, the person, when I hear it. Not the dreamy Scott Baio Chachi. The my-friend-from-San-Diego Chachi. Dude Chachi, what's up??

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

playing the hits from yesterday, today, and tomorrow
There are so many bands these days that sound vaguely from another time. Seems the span between the '60s and '80s has become a happy childhood for rock and roll. I'm all for nostalgia and paying tribute, especially when bands use references to make something new (Bloc Party, White Stripes, etc.). But is there anything from recent history, say past 15 years or so, to feel nostalgic about? With some exceptions, popular music has been pretty atrocious. Will nostalgia for nostalgia be a thing? In ten years, will someone say, 'Shit dude, I really miss The Strokes!'. Or will people be too distracted with the new trends in Boy Band Grunge, and Smooth Metal? Hmmm...

Friday, July 01, 2005

Showdown at The Men's Warehouse
I went to The Men's Warehouse yesterday to get fitted. When I walked in I was greeted by a girl who asked if she could help me. I told her what I wanted. Then it got ugly.

Girl 1 (to Girl 2): Susan, can you help him?
Girl 2: I'm busy doing something in the back.
Girl 1: Well I'm with another customer.
Girl 2: Well I'm busy.
Girl 1: I'm serious.
Girl 2: So am I!
Girl 1: Ugh.

Then they walked away in different directions.

Me: ...?

The guy working told me to go wait in back, and someone would be with me in a minute. When I got to the back, there was another guy standing around. The chairs were occupied by loads of kids, who were extra squirmy in their little tuxes. Then another guy walked in to be fitted. So there we were. No chairs, no magazines, and no help. Momentarily, I flipped through a catalogue of tuxedos, but I couldn't even feign interest. Then the fight broke out.

From the back room, we heard Girl 1 and Girl 2 yelling at each other. I couldn't really make out what they were saying, but I imagined it went like this:

Girl 1: You suck.
Girl 2: No, you do.
Girl 1: Seriously, you suck.
Girl 2: I'm serious. You suck seriously.

Us guys looked around awkwardly. The kids squirmed more. Then it went silent in the back. A minute later Girl 1 emerged, her eyes ruddy. She lined us up and picked us off one at a time, and didn't pretend to be happy about it. The joker ahead of me, who was a tragic hipster in giant aviators, didn't know any of the names in the wedding party, and she put him in his place: 'How the hell am I supposed to put you in the system, man?!'

It was all I could've hoped for from a TMW visit, short of meeting George Zimmer.

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