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March 15, 2010
rx for the dumped
I've been friends with exes before, of course, but never with one who dumped me. Not until fairly recently. It is not the same.
Which is to say, it's not really a friendship. Other ex-ships are bereft of pretense and discomfort. It's what makes them special. This one, on the other hand, is beset with pretense and discomfort. Don't get me wrong; this is preferable to hating one another. It's just a sad legacy.
I had to work to get here, too. My onetime dumper (who I will not name, for reasons that will become clear) has been reintroduced into my life in phases.
Phase One - It's the Devil!
This is the initial encounter. Best dispensed with, like removing a Band Aid.
Phase Two - Really?
Now she's starting to loosen up a bit, and she tells you select bits about her life. You sadly note that none of the problems she mentions—career, housing, family, men, finances, lack of ability to pursue what she really wants to do—would even exist had she simply meant it when she said she loved you. Everything you had once hoped she would accomplish for herself remains just hope. Diminishing hope. You say nothing.
Phase Three - I don't care anymo-o-ore.
You begin to notice her exhibiting the same self-destructive behaviors that drove you nuts in the beforetime. But now you both have the luxury of it not being your problem. Where was that back when you needed it?
Phase Four - Incontinence
As a certain point, if you're lucky, the demise of your relationship shifts from tragedy to comedy. For me, it wasn't when she told me about the "asshole alcoholic" against whom she had to get a restraining order. It certainly wasn't when he brandished a knife, chased her, or ended up in jail. It wasn't even when I found out he'd done this all before, to another woman, and had served 18 months for violating that restraining order. No. That's not funny. You question your retarded ex's judgment, certainly, but it's not like you wish this upon her.
"He must be incredibly hot," you say.
"He's literally an underwear model," she replies. "How did you know?"
"Because people generally don't give ugly psychopaths second chances."
And then I found the preening photos of himself he'd posted online. And that's when I burst out laughing.
I erupted at the sight of him. Suddenly the ludicrousness of my history snapped into focus. "Oh. My. God! I can't believe I lost a single night's sleep wondering what I did wrong to lose her!" I laughed. Apparently she was looking for a knife-brandishing, uneducated, alcoholic, underwear-model ex-con. My exact opposite.
What did I do wrong with her? Everything. I wasn't close, really. And thank Christ.
posted by john at 09:18 AM • permalink
March 11, 2010
kind of creepy-hot
Before the Olympics are too far distant, allow me to make fun of the Canadian team's sweaters. Embarrassing enough that it looks like the sweater Colin Firth wore in Bridget Jones' Diary, but look closely at the the antlers. Including their placement.
posted by john at 12:33 PM • permalink
March 10, 2010
maybe i'm amazing
Young Lilly is scalp-deep in grad school. By text she wailed weepy, plaintive noises at me. I remember that feeling. Grad school was certainly the most transforming period of my life, but my god, did I ever hate it when I was there.
And thus did I send Lilly a huge care package of gourmet treats.
"You are amazing," read the subsequent text from her. It felt weird.
And I realized, with a jolt, that this was the first time a woman had ever directed these words at me without drips of sarcasm.
posted by john at 09:28 AM • permalink
March 09, 2010
no place like home
Someone gets shot at Ohio State and suddenly this is national news? WTF? We called those days "school days."
No, the real surprise to me is that Ohio State actually conducts performance evaluations of its employees.
posted by john at 11:04 AM • permalink
the difference between men and women...
...is that women do this to one another virtually. It has its merits, but literal makes for better video.
I have watched this clip at least 20 times. I'm not proud. I'm just sayin.'
posted by john at 08:23 AM • permalink
March 08, 2010
fit me for my strand of pearls
Barbara Bush famously stormed out of the theatre during Silence of the Lambs. "I didn't come to a movie to see people's skin being taken off," she remarked. Fair enough, but I remember thinking Poor woman is so out-of-touch that she doesn't see how freakin' COOL this movie is.
What goes around hath come around.
18 Best Pictures later, I find that I, too, have walked out on the winner. Not that The Hurt Locker offended or surprised me. It was more or less exactly what I expected, only boring. Around the fifth "tense" bomb-defusing scene, I found my mind wandering. When my mind drifted back, it was not kind to Hurt Locker. Jesus fucking christ, this is monotonous. Haven't I already seen this scene three or five times? I realized that I didn't care if the characters blew up. I realized that I didn't know the characters' names. I thought of them in terms of their archetype. That's the Guy Who Might Snap. That's the Trailer Trash. That's the Noble Black Man. That's the Guy On His Last Tour of Duty. I wonder what Dex is doing in her crate right now? Fuck this. I'm bored.
So I left with 20 minutes or so to go.
As much as I'd like to chalk this up to my barbarabushification, I suspect something far less amusing is at work. That Kathryn Bigelow's film would win, and she for Best Director, was a fait accompli ages ago. What a story! The first female director to win those honors! Against her ex-husband, even!
And indeed it is a great story. I just wish it seemed more earned and less ordained by people who very much like to congratulate themselves for setting the trends of proper thought. (Now that's getting the most possible mileage out of their high school diplomas.) Indeed, the collective praise for the film seemingly amounts to little more than "It was directed by a woman."
But maybe, I thought, Maybe I'm just reading too much into this.
And then it came time for the Best Director award. Expecting to see last year's winner, Danny Boyle, be the presenter as custom dictates, I moaned when the most self-congratulatory windbag of them all trotted out instead. Tonight, Barbara Steisand was delighted to tell us, the first woman director might win. (Pause so you can applaud) Or the first black director, which would be delightful too. (Pause so you can applaud) And when she opened the fateful envelope, she didn't merely announce the name. "Well, The Time Is Now," she intoned in bold title caps, thereby ensuring her own place in history as this moment is reshown. And then she announced what we already knew with certainty to such a degree, Steisand and not Boyle was presenting. Barbara Steisand, the Rosa Parks of female directors, slighted for Yentl because of her vagina and not because it sucked bilgewater.
Yentl, that is.
Enjoy your circle-jerk, Academy. You earned it. Me, I'm going to go watch Lost in Translation, by the vastly more deserving Sophia Coppola.
But one question remains: who'd you pay to take your GED test?
posted by john at 11:13 AM • permalink
March 05, 2010
the john rules
I've worked for friends for ten years straight, navigating safely from one to the other. While I wouldn't trade the feelings of mutual trust and safety, this arrangement has had one horrible downside. When I was writing yesterday's post, I realized just how much like talking with girlfriends' parents this downside is.
I can't be me.
Out of friendship.
When I was working for that cocksucking sleaze Ernest, I couldn't have cared less if I made him look bad. Heck, it was fun. But would I do that to Flo? To Christy? No, the friendship comes first, before my need to call out people's incompetence and disingenuousness.
This has led to the same exchange occurring over and over in my last ten years of work. Only the boss' name changes.
Annette: "Do you want to work with J.B. on [insert some horrible product]?"The rules that have emerged when I work for a friend, then:John: "Do you want to rephrase your sentence such that you get a response you like?"
Annette: "Work with J.B. on it."
John: "Do I have the green light to handle him how I see fit?"
Annette: "Do I look stupid?"
- I always ask permission before going off on someone.
- That permission is never, ever, under any circumstances granted.
posted by john at 10:57 AM • permalink
March 04, 2010
silence stew
Over 90% of the responses to yesterday's question about handling bigotry-blurters indicated that yes, it also happens to people whose haircuts Allie favors. I didn't really see a pattern geographically. The retorts ran the gamut from "stewing in silence" (you) to "telling the stranger you hope he dies really, really soon" (me). Amazingly, I've never been punched in the face in this particular circumstance.
I didn't employ this the other night, however, as he was a volunteer and I was there in an official capacity. I felt like my hands were rhetorically tied. It was very much like when a girlfriend's parents spew bigoted crap.
"Honey, do I have your permission to—"
"No."
"But what if I only—"
"Fuck no."
posted by john at 12:58 PM • permalink
March 03, 2010
again
The dog park meeting last night hadn't broken up for three seconds before some Old White Fart with an Overdeveloped Sense of Entitlement (OWFOSE) had me trapped in a conversation, literally pinning me to the wall by blocking my escape. I'd never met him before, but man, did he ever have opinions he thought the guy who contributes nothing but wisecracks should hear. Racist opinions.
How, you might reasonably ask, do racist remarks rear their head in a community meeting about dog parks, in a five-minute conversation between strangers?
Allie says it never happens to her, which given how hermetically sealed my life is (for JUST this sort of reason, I might add), surprises me. "It must be the way you look," cheerfully offers the #1 critic of my shaved head.
I'm not buying it. So I throw it open to you. (Note to Mike and d'Andre: bigoted things I say don't count.)
posted by john at 07:35 AM • permalink
February 28, 2010
i believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows. i believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle glows! i believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come to show the way! i believe, I believe!
Ozzie Guillen now has a Twitter account.
Ozzie. Freakin'. Guillen. Unhandled, unfiltered, unspellchecked. For the first time in my life, I 1) believe in God and 2) say the following without a trace of sarcasm: I can't wait for baseball season to start.
posted by john at 10:43 PM • permalink
February 26, 2010
tailgating
Like most tech firms, my employer makes you scan your ID card whenever you enter a building. When someone with no ID card tries to follow someone else through a door, they call it "tailgating." I've always thought that a poor metaphor. It's more like "drafting."
The other day, I couldn't find my ID, and I stood at the door and did the Keycard Patdown of all my pockets. I shan't be posting a video, but trust that this is the lily-whitest of all dances. A stranger held the door as he patiently watched a dork swat himself, and we shared a knowing look.
"Who on earth would go in there who didn't have to be there?" I sighed.
"Now I know you work here," he replied, gesturing for me to walk through.
posted by john at 08:49 AM • permalink
February 24, 2010
waggot season
The site appears to be back up. Such is the mystery of my ISP.
Perusing Facebook, I saw that Mike had just fanned the group "Seattle Gay Scene." Specifically, it looked like this:
"Mike Pinkpoofter has become a fan of Seattle Gay Scene."Seeking something to mock, I clicked the second link. It was then that I discovered that unlike with status updates or groups, the fan link does more than show you the item in question.
"You have become a fan of Seattle Gay Scene."Ha, ha. Imagine my family's face when they see that. They've long suspected. I like cooking and Glee, after all, and no girlfriend has stuck around longer than six years. Something's seriously up with that.
And then I tried to un-fan Seattle Gay Scene. Took me a good 20 minutes of combing my configuration to figure out that you have to open the fan page you've never before opened, then click "Remove Me As a Fan." 20 increasingly less amused minutes. 20 costly minutes.
"Poor little waggot," Mike chided.
posted by john at 09:12 AM • permalink
February 19, 2010
two hours is a luxuriously long time to plan your friend's grisly murder
"Wanna smoke?"
Dirt knows I haven't taken a day off work in a month, so the offer was especially sweet to my ears. God, yes. I'll be right over.
"This is Brian," Dirt said, pointing to a stranger offering me a Cuban cigar.
"You're the computer guy?" Brian asked. "Got any degrees?"
Beware strangers bearing Cubans.
For the glacial next two hours, I smoked that Cuban and listened to Brian's business idea. He made me swear not to divulge it, but as you'll see in 29 words' time, absolutely nothing will come of my sharing it with a mass audience. Brian's big idea: people can use the Web to teach one another...around the world!
His patent was rejected, but he's resubmitting it.
"My friend the second-ranked quantum physicist in the world says this could be the first company in the world with a trillion-dollar market cap."
Maybe with a trillion dollars in venture capital, sure.
Over and over, he talked about the brilliance of his idea, about how he couldn't believe that he beat Bill Gates and Steve Jobs and Warren Buffet to it. Eventually Dirt just got up and went inside, abandoning me to listen to the unremitting drone of Brian's self-delusions. "We're gonna save the economy and change the world," he said, shaking his head meaningfully, at least a dozen times.
In fact, I have now shared every last thing Brian said in two hours during which he talked unremittingly. As you might imagine, there was some repetition. Finally, he concluded with "So what do you think of my business idea, John?"
"Enough about you, what do I think about you?" I replied.
"Right," he replied with no self-awareness.
posted by john at 09:01 AM • permalink
February 17, 2010
i prefer the word "stabby"
Allie calls me to blather about her pointless day. About 30 seconds in, she stops.
"Are you in Redmond?" she asks.
A stunning guess, considering I visit Microsoft's campus only about an hour a month.
"Yeah, actually, I am. How-"
"You sounded really pissed off."
posted by john at 11:48 AM • permalink
February 16, 2010
fair's fair
Continuing the theme, here's a Canadian mocking Americans' whiney pussitude when it snows. Kind of hard to argue with him.
In the Puget Sound area, we don't get much snow at all. I haven't seen a single flake this winter. Perhaps because of inexperience on ice and snow, the drivers here are not to be believed. They brake on inclines. They brake on curves. They brake because a cloud looks kinda like a teapot. I have no compunction about driving on snow back East, but here? I don't have a death-wish.
posted by john at 09:00 AM • permalink
February 15, 2010
with glowing hearts we see thee....rise? dammit, rise!
You know how you feel when your friend comes out of the bathroom into a crowded bar teeming with hotties and your friend is trailing 20 feet of toilet paper out of their pants? That was the exact feeling I had watching the opening ceremonies in Vancouver Friday night. No matter how perfectly charming your friend had been prior to the toilet paper, all anyone in the room would remember was the toilet paper.
Oh, Canada. Here comes some teasing from your favorite sib.
If you're going to incorporate giant crystal wangs into your opening ceremonies, was it really necessary to hammer the point home by having them slowly rise into the air? They already had heads and clefts, for chrissakes. Give your audience some credit. Sometimes less is more.
That imagery only made your torch snafu worse. When later you couldn't get it up, how could we not make erectile dysfunction jokes? Don't worry. Once in a while, it happens to every country.
The torch moment did lead to my absolute favorite photo from these or any Olympic games. Here's flame-bearer Wayne Gretzky's face at about Minute IV of billions of people watching him stand there helplessly, watching the torch not rise.
When did he start looking like Richard Nixon?
Attention Canadian readers: I'm afraid I require yet another apology for Bryan Adams. Any Canadian will do.
posted by john at 12:11 AM • permalink
February 14, 2010
yes, osama
Yes, those of you who guessed that I saw Osama bin Laden in this print were correct. The owners of the print told me I was a moron for seeing that. So apparently you're all morons, too. Welcome.
posted by john at 10:08 AM • permalink
February 12, 2010
just don't read the comments. trust me.
I didn't think there was any fresh territory when it came to 9/11 coverage, but these recently declassified helicopter photos are stunning.
posted by john at 03:16 AM • permalink
February 10, 2010
hi, my name is john, and i'm always happy to take advance payment for work i will never do
I'm tempted to just put the YouTube link in here, but I really want you to see the whole After the Rapture Pet Care site. Seriously, guys, send me a job application. And when do we get paid?
Thanks to Katrina for the link.
posted by john at 10:42 AM • permalink
February 09, 2010
do you see what i see?
An argument broke out over this painting, specifically about the figure on the right. Anyone else think he resembles someone famous?
posted by john at 10:25 AM • permalink
February 08, 2010
why i sold every last share of my microsoft stock
Three years ago, when HD-DVD and Blu-Ray were competing to become the next format, I confidently sunk $800 into a Blu-Ray player. How did I know it would win the format wars? Because Microsoft bet huge on HD-DVD. And if there's one thing I know, it's that Microsoft couldn't wipe its own ass if you gave it a mirror, map and three bloodhounds.
You probably know that too, but believe me, that degree of ineptitude permeates every corner of my life, every day. (And yes, I'm aware that that sentence came out unintentionally funny. I decided to let you enjoy it, too.)
Here's a taste of my life. Witness these two search ads, one for Bing, which Microsoft desperately wants you to use as a verb, the other for the company whose name you already do.
Remember when your middle-aged dad tried to impress your friends by saying that Wham! was, like, totally rad? That ad strikes exactly the same note. And it makes me cringe with embarrassment exactly the same way.
"Look! We, like, totally get that you think vampires are cool! We're cool too!"
Alternative intended message: "Use Bing, die horribly."
Now look at Google's brilliant ad. Simple. Elegant. Amusing. Sweet. Unmuddled. About its own product and not someone else's. And not embarrassing after 15 minutes have elapsed in pop culture.
So, to summarize these ads' messages: Google changes your life, and Bing ends it.
posted by john at 09:16 AM • permalink
February 05, 2010
giving the dexil her due
As I've written previously, my dog, Dex, was not exactly an early bloomer. "She's got doggie down syndrome," observed one person. I had just about accepted that she was a moron when at around 14 months, something clicked. In terms of IQ, she went from worst to first among my dogs, overnight.
My first indication was when she figured out the difference between shower lengths. If she sees me get out of the shower in less than a minute, she goes right into her kennel because she knows I'm adjourning to the hot tub. This was welcome.
Soon after that, she figured out how to lower the car windows. This was unwelcome.
Now she listens to my phone conversations. If she hears Dirt's ringtone, she gets up and listens attentively to what I say. And if she hears "See you in a few," she goes batshit, because that means she gets to play with her friend Evie.
At this pace, she'll eclipse my own intelligence by 6 o'clock tonight. I think. Maybe I should have her do the math.
posted by john at 04:08 PM • permalink
February 04, 2010
ganesha is his co-pilot
My favorite clip of the week.
posted by john at 09:42 AM • permalink
February 02, 2010
saints nation
I hear an announcer say it at least eight times a year: "No one's fans travel like Steelers fans do. I think the Steelers fans might actually outnumber the home fans, Vern!"
This is, of course, complete bullplop. Steelers fans may travel well, but a good many of those fans woke up in their own beds on game day.
Is this because they're front-runners? Sure, some of them. More likely they're displaced Pittsburghers. There are large pockets of them in every major city. The numbers are truly astounding: when the steel industry collapsed in the 80s, Pittsburgh shed 150,000 jobs and over half (!) of its peak population. They scattered across the country and raised families. They are a "nation" in the looser meaning of the word: a body of people of common origin who may or may not be in the same location. They are, in other words, the lost tribe of Pittsburgh. And what connects them are the sports loyalties of their forbears. That's why their provincialism about the Steelers can seem a little...much sometimes. The ties run deeper than merely football.
It is unique. Or rather, it was.
As I look at the Saints prepare for their first Super Bowl, something looks familiar. A different sort of calamity hit New Orleans, a far faster and more devastating one. Its people scattered across the country and haven't returned. And now you see it: the lost peoples of that particular nation are stirring. They're seeking one another out and gleefully commiserating. They finally have something happy to share, the word "share" being more operative than even "happy." They're returning home, figuratively if not literally.
It's wonderful to see. I don't know that anyone could be as happy for them as this Steelers fan. I suspect that I know just how deep this joy is running.
You dat.
posted by john at 08:11 AM • permalink
February 01, 2010
evolution of my thoughts one sunny wednesday when i had the flu
Noon - iPad? Seriously? What a horrible name. It makes me think of feminine hygiene products.
12:05 - Heh heh. I hope my iPad comes with wings for heavy flow.
1:30 (on phone) - "Did you hear what they're calling the Apple tablet? Yeah! I'm gonna call it my maxi-pad and the iPhone my panty liner. Har, har!"
3:30 - Wow, there's a lot of tampon jokes going on out there. I guess it was sort of obvious.
4:03 - Ugh, I'd better stop with the tamPod jokes.
7:30 - My god, every media outlet, every discussion board, is saturated with people who think this is an clever joke. Stop embarrassing yourselves. Give it a rest, already.
9:04 pm - (comedian) "I hope my iPad comes with wings for heavy flow."
9:04 pm (me) - "Oh, HAR HAR. Moron."
Really, can you remember a joke going from hilarious to unfunny pop-cliche so rapidly? By comparison, "Yeah, that's the ticket" and "Talk to the hand" were multi-generational epics.
posted by john at 08:46 AM • permalink
January 29, 2010
managee
Last weekend, I went grocery shopping with a friend who happens to be a middle-manager at Microsoft. It didn't take long for me to start thinking of the outing as a microcosm of my professional life. First, she yanked me around the store willy-nilly, making me visit the same aisles, two, three times instead of simply formulating and following a plan. Then she forgot the one item we went there especially for. I reminded her. "Oh. Right," she said, yanking me to the bakery aisle for a fourth go-round.
The metaphoria in which I was drowning reached its apex in the hot-dog aisle. "We need to get these," she said. I grabbed the very package she was tapping with her extended index finger. "Not those!" she scoffed. "They have to be all-beef. Duh!"
posted by john at 11:27 AM • permalink
January 28, 2010
creepiness
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the fates of certain child actors. My Google stats for that post indicate overwhelmingly that people find it by googling Carrie Henn, the child actress who played Newt in Aliens. This, for a post that explicitly mentioned Superman's penis. I see zero hits from people googling the superwang, though.
This, this is why all of my friends are women. Deep down, they're just wired better.
posted by john at 09:38 AM • permalink
January 27, 2010
these are definitely not my bananas
If you didn't seen Brendan Frasier at the Golden Globes, by all means...
posted by john at 12:09 AM • permalink
January 26, 2010
what are my strengths and weaknesses? why do you assume they're different things?
The first interview I ever participated in was one of my worst. I was applying for a busboy position, the Bic Dispoable Lighter of jobs, but at 17 I didn't yet know that. I had a new girlfriend, hence had commenced the as-yet-unceasing era of needing a constant supply of cash. The manager sat me in the bar of the restaurant, positioning me facing the window such that I was looking into the blinding sun at sunset. So desperate was I for a job, it did not occur to me to move or to ask the favor of shutting the blinds. No, I sat there and suffered through his questions, tears running down my face as my corneas simmered in their own juices.
Interview debacle #2 occurred months later, when I applied a job as a library clerk. My interviewer was a cool middle-aged woman who listened to a lot of Teddy Pendergrass. I didn't know that yet, though. During one of my utterly incoherent, rambling answers, I mentioned having recently moved from home. "...but, you know, I wasn't kicked out or anything, it was more like my mom, um, died, kinda, so it was more like home left me than it was I left home, if you think about it, so it's not like I..."
"Wrap it up."
"Right. Bless you."
I saved my best work for Microsoft. I had just gone to the brink of bankruptcy over a girl, which resulted in the humiliation of my having to borrow money from another girl. And my first interviewer asked me that most original of questions: "Why do you want to work at Microsoft?"
I was confused by the question. "Your checks clear, don't they?"
Over the ensuring years, I would conduct many, many interviews, but two stand out.
Interviewee sitting in my guest chair realizes who I am: "Oh! Were you the contractor who called the manager a 'cocksucker' at the staff meeting and didn't get fired for it?" I've always loved his qualification. Apparently the manager was called that a lot.
Interviewer: "Do you know [name of wretched person]?"
Me: "Ugh, what a cunt."
Yes, I've come a long way since squinting in pain in that restaurant's bar. A long, classy way. And you know what? I was offered every single one of those jobs. Must have been that interviewing class Ohio State made me take.
posted by john at 07:41 AM • permalink
January 25, 2010
who dat?
If Haiti or Indonesia had an NFL team in the Super Bowl, I'd root for them. But they don't, so New Orleans it is.
Thank god it's not my team against the Saints in the Super Bowl. Who outside of Indy can morally root against that town getting some good news?
posted by john at 10:46 AM • permalink
