Superiority complex

I have this theory.
As humans evolved from tree dwelling primates of a million years ago, we began to gradually lose the fur that covered our entire body. As time wore on we started to lose more and more. At one point we were completely covered from head to toe in fur. With the exception of our eyes, palms and soles of our feet, fur covered every square inch of our bodies. This was true for both male and female alike. Eventually, we lost the fur and graduated to hair. We were still pretty hairy as we evolved from Homo Habilis to Home Ergaster and then to Homo Erectus and beyond. Eventually, we became Homo Sapiens Sapiens, the species we are today. Today, we have lost most of our body hair and have plenty of skin showing to prove it.
My theory is that if we are constantly evolving and one of the side effects of this advancement is the loss of our fur/hair, then I believe that bald people are the most advanced humans on the planet. If this were to be true then why do so many bald guys have this inferiority complex? They should all have superiority complexes. The rest of us with full heads of hair are not as advanced as they are.

Home theater

I think the only reason I would ever get a huge house is so that I could put a home theater room in it. The kind you see on MTV Cribs. You would enter the room and there would be a dozen comfortable La-Z-Boy recliners and a big ass screen. I would have my own special chair just like on Cribs that no one is allowed to sit in. I would never go out to the movies again. I hate going to the movies. I hate dealing with people because they are rude, slovenly, low-brow types who think they own the theater. Chairs are being hit, noises are being made, wrappers crinkle incessantly. The absolute worst part of the movie theater experience is when people clap at the end. This isn't a broadway show or an opera performance! They can't even hear you asshole! Most of the time the clapping is for a movie that sucks anyway. I went to see 10,000 BC last night and at the end a few people clapped. Seriously?
In my private theater, no one claps and no one makes any noise. In fact, I'll watch all my movies by my self... naked. Yeah, that's right. I said naked. It's my theater and I can do whatever the hell I feel like.

Doorman

Even if it looks like the coziest, easiest job in the world I don't think I could be a doorman. Truth be told, they freak me out. They stand at the door and eye you as you walk by their building, sizing you up, taking mental notes. If I were a woman, I'd think they were visualizing me naked (If I were a woman, I'd be damn hot and expect everyone to visualize me naked).
I don't think the job entails too much. Open the door, smile. Sign for packages, smile. Call up when food arrives, smile. Take a bathroom break, smile. Visualize all women tenants naked, smile wider. I guess the only person who couldn't do the job is anyone with bad teeth. It would make the essential part of the job of smiling that much more difficult to accomplish well.
Sometimes there are 2 or 3 guys (It's always men. Why are there no door women?) standing there at the same time, all with those shit eating grins on having a mental gang bang at your expense. The worst part of all are the suits. Part Kaiser Military, part Russian Nutcracker. I'd be afraid that one day, they'd all join up and form an army of wooden soldiers and causing trouble. They wouldn't be there to open doors, sign for packages or undress you with their pervy eyes. It would be at that moment, I am convinced, that New York would fall apart.

So bad they're good.

I was watching American Pie Presents the Naked Mile, which is a quality movie BTW, and decided to look up the movie resume of the main midget in the film. Apparently, he was the bag of weed in Harold and Kumar as well as tie title character in Howard the Duck. I got to thinking about that movie and how awesomely bad it was. I continued the thought some more and reminisced about other movies that were so good because they were so bad. For the sake of keeping this blog under a thousand pages I will name but a few: Midnight Madness, 3 O'Clock High, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (would have been so much better if it was call Buffy the Nun Slayer), UHF, Just One of the Guys, anything with Jean-Claude Van Damme, The Perfect Weapon, Raw Deal (wait a minute, that one is just plain bad), Can't Buy Me Love, Gymkata, Clash of the Titans, Swamp Thing, Cloak & Dagger, Action Jackson, Towering Inferno, Flight of the Navigator, Cocoon II, Who Framed Rager Rabbit.
The list goes on and on.

The lazy eye

I love the lazy eye. I don't have one though. I'm not saying I want one either. I just think the lazy eye is a really funny thing. A professor in college I use to know had the lazy eye. Every class he would choose people in the room to answer a question and everytime they would always have the same reaction. The pupil would look to his or her left then to their right before finally turning back to the professor and saying, "me?". You see, it was hard to tell if he was looking at you or to the person on either side of you. You couldn't tell which eye was the good one and which was the lazy one. Interestingly, he never got fed up with people asking him whether they were the intended target of his question. He would always politely nod with a jovial smile as if to say, "of course I am picking on you my child."
I've come across several people in my life that had this condition. I never made fun of them or called them names. I never poked their lazy eye with a stick to see what reaction it would have. I would just laugh to myself on the inside. Kind of like I do when someone says "do do" out loud. "We don't make lollipops but we do do gum." If I can, like not during a conference call with a client but rather with a friend or store clerk, I stop the person in mid-sentence and question them: "You do do?" Then I laugh. Classic!

233

I've become addicted to the Nintendo Wii that is in my office game room. More than any other, I spend a lot of the time playing the bowling game. I've played some of the other sports but it's bowling that keeps my attention. While waiting for a friend of mine to finish her work so we could go out and drink for St. Pat's, I must have played 10 games in a row. At one point, I got into a zone and hit 6 strikes in a row, 7 in total. My final score was 233. I've never gotten that score either in the game or in real bowling before. The best part was, I didn't have to wear the fungus clown shoes and I didn't have to wait for a ball to return to me. The TV version has all of the benefits of the real version without the nasty sucky parts. And of course, every ball is the right size and the holes are not too small. I've always wondered about that actually. Whenever I went to a bowling alley, all the balls were too heavy and for people with tiny fingers. Who the fuck are these people who can support the weight of a 15lb. ball on match stick sized fingers? Dude!

Flava Flav!!!!

This is a dream I had the other night:
I'm at my apartment (which doesn't look like my apartment). Apparently there is an orgy going on and I'm not a part of it. My wife comes to me and tells me one of the guests was mean to her or something. I turn into Al Pacino and drag the guy outside to the elevator which has a jacuzzi next to it. I beat the shit out of him and come back inside. My bankers are there and they tell me to take all my money out of the bank and just hold onto it. The door opens and the cops have the dude who I beat up and are taking him downtown. I follow in my car. I am now riding along a city street and supposedly following my friends to a party but I lose them. I pull up to a Strip joint where they are suppose to be inside. I don't have any money to get in but the bouncer lets me in anyway. I tell the hostess that I am here to see friends and she directs me to a room in the back. I see about a dozen people there including Paris Hilton and Flava Flav. We hang out for a moment and as people are getting ready to leave I notice Paris coming on to me. I tell her, "I don't want to hook-up with you because I like us as we are now. As friends. I like when I come in to a room and you smile at me and I don't want to lose that." So Paris, my wife and I head to my new apartment which is a super swanky penthouse. Paris says she wants to go to the roof and check out the amazing city skyline view so we head on up. We get to the top and the view is amazing. The building is so big that we need to hop into a car and drive to the edge of the building for a better view. We don't stop the car however. We just cruise around and come back. On the way back we pass a small college where the students are having a crazy party. Students are hanging out of windows and beer is everywhere. We get back to the stairs. Instead of going back down Paris notices a sign that says there is a plumber one flight up. Nevermind that this is the roof. So I go upstairs and sure enough there is a small room for a plumber to work out of. The plumber is kneeling down, facing away fixing something. his plumber crack is showing. I wake up.

Can't touch this

When ever I sit on the subway I make a concious effort not to touch anything with my bare skin. I'll use a glove or a sleeve if I need to hang on but if I can help it, I don't put my bare skin on it. To justify my phobia I noticed today someone standing next to me picking his nose. Of course the first thing he reaches for after finding gold is the subway bar to hold on. Now, he's just one guy. However, I see him and I can't help but think of the millions of people a day that ride the subway and how many of them are searching for gold in their noses as well. They inevitably reach for a part of the subway car to hold on to. This is probably the grossest thing I can think of because these nasty people are out there and they are touching everything. I'm thinking of becoming a bubble boy. It might be the only way to avoid such problems in the future.

Nervous Laughter

This is a pet peeve of mine. Someone makes a bad joke and adds a 2 second bout of nervous laughter followed by, "ummm" before continuing their conversation. I've noticed that fat chicks do this the most. I'm not sure whether their being fat is the reason for this annoyance but I just tend to notice this odd coincidence.
I make it a point never to laugh at my own jokes or heaven forbid, add the nervous laughter with an annoying, "ummm" after it. I'm not saying that I nail the joke everytime. I don't think anyone can be funny all the time. I'm just saying that if you attempt a little bit of humor, let it be because you are actually saying something funny. Adding emphasis through retarded after laughter will not help. It just makes you look like an unfunny fat girl. That's all I'm sayin'.

Space

I was watching a show yesterday on TV about what a certain price will get you in terms of living space in different locations around the U.S.
For instance, $600,000 in Phoenix, AZ gets you a nice 4 bedroom adobe house. In Charleston, NC it also gets you a lovely 4 bedroom house with a nice size yard. In NYC it gets you an alcove studio. That last one totally sucks but as they say, you 're paying for location. I refuse however, to pay that much for a studio. I don't care what the market rate is (in case you're wondering it is currently hovering around $1000 per sq. foot). I thought the other houses were very nice but then I got to thinking, what the hell would I do in Charleston or Phoenix? In Charleston I would be surrounded by Hee-Haw types and in Phoenix I would just sweat.
Then I got to more thinking, how much money would I need to live comfortably in either of these 3 places. The answer: $3,000,000. This is not me talking, this was the TV talking. For $3 million bucks you get lavish houses with pools or ocean views in Phoenix or Charleston respectively. In NYC you get 2 beds and a shit load of marble. One realtor called this dollar amount the amount you need to obtain the "Wow!" factor. To me, all those amenities are cool but a real "Wow!" factor is when I pay $3 million and the house comes with a something that maybe ex Governor Spitzer might pay for. At times like that, I'm glad I'm not in politics.

Let's Break Some Springs!

Is there anything more wonderful that going on Spring Break? I personally wouldn't know. I spent my spring break at college going home, visiting my girlfriend or doing nothing at all. I have sometimes envied my peers as I listened to their tales of debauchery and recklessness. Consuming enough cheap beer that could kill an average sized moose. Hitting on girls that had this been any other situation in any other location would never even have looked at you otherwise... and scoring with them. Doing stupid things like streaking through an authentic taco stand in the middle of the night in a small Mexican town that you can't or care not to pronounce.
I envy these good times.
What sucks though is going to a place to enjoy spring break and finding something different. A colleague of mine told me a nice story of going to Florida with 2 married friends and a bachelor for his party and the first night was in a bar where the mullet and not $10 was your entry fee. Some patrons had teeth that would make even a grown man cry. I could only imagine the sight of this place upon walking in. I felt bad for him but I knew that at the very least, he could rally these mullet-wearing, Meister Chow chugging, teethless yokels to streak around the bar and yell out over and over, "Spring Break, Spring Break!!!"

In Between

I get a kick out of being in that state where you aren't quite awake and you're not fully asleep. It's a great way to hallucinate without taking any drugs. You're in a really boring class, right, and you start to doze off but you're trying not to fall asleep. If you fall asleep in class, especially in a big class, it's ok. The problem is when sometimes you awake and you jerk quickly and your shit flies every where. Funny if it isn't you this happens to but but sucks big time if it is you.
Anyway, you're dozing off and you are trying to stay awake but not staying fully awake. You start to hear things and see things differently. You're riding a rainbow wave with tongues and everything is red. Hands are clapping solo and it's raining ice cream. Strangely, everything makes sense as you let the moment and the rainbow carry you forward. Unfortunately, nothing lasts and you are brought back to reality by someone in the room answering a question near you. Still disoriented you blurt out, "The tongues are stealing my ice creams!" unaware that this information has no relevance in your Near Eastern Judaic Studies class. It's definitely more embarassing than a little spasmic jerk and a fly of the books. But your little episode will go down in history as the Ice Cream incident and you'll be famous around school. Now that's pretty sweet.

Super Powers

I tend to believe that everyone thinks about having super powers. It's like people having theme songs. Mine for instance is the theme to Sanford and Son. Everybody has a different one though. People have different ideas what their special super power is. Some want to fly, others to be invisible. Those are great super powers, don't get me wrong. I'd like to have those too. But I won't choose either of those as my number one super power. I think if I had the choice I would choose the ability to make people play strip poker. If I'm in a bar with a lot of hot chicks, I'll make them want to play strip poker. I'll have a few token guys there for the girls to get excited about but the ratio would work totally in my favor. And of course I would always win but I would make it look like I almost lost just to keep things interesting. I'm not sure what I would call myself but I like "The Strip Poker". It works on several levels there for... awesome.

Free Stuff

I like free stuff. My motto is, "If it's free take it, unless it gives you a disease." I feel that if you can have something that you didn't have before and not give anything up for it, why not take it. My favorite free stuff is free lunch. Offices are notorious for having free food around. Sometimes it's pretty decent stuff. Today there were sandwiches and cookies. Decent stuff. Sometimes it sucks. Leftover salad. Still other times you hit the jackpot. Big client meeting and the Filet Mignon, Sushi, or Caviar have been left for the scavengers to pick at when the meeting is over. Most of the time I take it. Other times, if it looks like it has been sitting out for a while, I listen to my own rule. If it might give me a disease, I don't take it. Raw fish can get quite gamey by 3PM.

The God Channel

I don't watch the God Channel. I'm not sure I can even figure it out. Whenever I flip through the TV, trying to find some, anything good to watch, I usually have to go past the God Channel. I have this feature on my TV where I can block stations if I don't feel like having it on while I surf randomly. I've eliminated every Korean, Chinese, Spanish and Indian channel I can. I've even eliminated CSPAN. Not really into dumb people standing around and talking to each other on live TV.
I haven't eliminated the God Channel though. It's not that I'm religious; in fact I'm far from it. I guess I am just in awe of the programming. Some of it is bad. Some of it is really, really bad. And some of it makes me laugh. I guess it's because when you flip onto a channel that sings the praise of the supposed Lord all mighty, you're not expecting it to be so low budget and creepy. I wish God would come down and smite the producers. Thou Shalt Not Suck!!!
I mean, it is his channel after all. He should do it on principle. No wonder people today are losing faith or changing their faith more and more. With so much over production of Reality TV, the low budget God Channel just gets lost and ultimately goes unwatched. God doesn't stand a chance against American Gladiators or My Dad is Better Than Your Dad.

Paper clips

I had a friend in High School whose last name was Lee. Another friend and I would spend hours each day in the middle of class taking perfectly good paper clips and bending them so that we could form the word "Lee" is script.
Hundreds a day.
At the end of each day, my friend and I would put all the "Lee" clips in Mr. Lee's locker throught the slits at the top. This would take about 5-10 minutes or so. Time well spent.
Every morning, Mr. Lee would come to school, open his locker and have these little twisted paper clips come tumbling out all over the floor. He would curse and stomp his feet. This amused us to no end. The best part was that some of the clips would get lost in his locker. On the off chance we missed a day to put new ones in, there would always be one or two that would be shaken loose when Mr. Lee reached for his books.
He often told us to stop. That was so not happening.
I have another person named Lee in my office these days. I would love to bring these shinanagans back for my own personal amusement. Unfortunately, two things stop me from doing this. 1: He does not have a locker and I don't feel putting them under a door will have the same effect. 2: He has a much, much higher position than me in the company and therefore I could be fired. That last one would be a real buzz kill.

I was there, I was there.

If I take pictures of a place or thing or whatever, I take it because I want to have my own memory of being there. Why do people have to put themselves in the photo in front of the place or thing or whatever? I know you were there, you took the picture. The only thing I see in this picture is you blocking whatever it you mean to take a picture of. I feel like saying, " Hi monkey. Hi. Oooh, there's the monkey again. Monkey in front of tower, monkey in front of building. There's the monkey in front of a real monkey. The real monkey just shat on you ya monkey." That might be the only picture I would want to see a person in. Monkeys pooing on people is just downright hilarious.

Use it wisely

I'm all for smoking weed. I'm not going to tell you that getting high all the time is a good thing but if you use it occasionally, it has stimulating properties. It's mental exercise. At least I think so. I'm not gonna tell you do it or don't do it. Not my purpose here. I'm just going to advocate using it wisely. A sweet unexpected adventure is cool. Sitting on your couch watching American Gladiators, not so much.
I think a good time would be showing up at a random party in a Brooklyn loft owned by a friend of a friend of a neighbor. You're stoned out of your mind as you walk into a large place with a unique layout that leaves you excited about the confines within. The walls are covered in a loose hanging, dark colored velvet tapestry. The lights are on but dim enough to notice the people you pass as you enter the loft but unsure of any distinctive facial features. The music in the background is a cross of old skool rap from the Sugar Hill Gang and new wave downbeat electronica, possibly Zero 7 or Morcheeba. Someone, you aren't sure who, passes you a bottle of beer, which you are happy to get as the slight twinge of cotton mouth due to the pot is slowly settling into the corners of your mouth. The rest of the night is blur of faces, tunes and the occasional puff of someone elses joint to keep you floating in the space between sobriety and pot hangover. Waking up the next morning, not quite sure of the exact way you got home, the thought of the previous night's joyous revelry enters you mind... that's how you're suppose to roll.