Got this in the ol' inbox yesterday. Translated from German to English by Babelfish...
Subject: Proposal to co-operation between Geeko graduation and http://www.promisenottolaugh.com/
Very honoured Web master, my name is Tanja Kastner and I is graduation active as Werbeberaterin in the agency Geeko.
We represent renowned enterprises, which are in the context of their on-line marketing campaign in the search for suitable advertising partners. Since your web page appears particularly interesting to me, I would inquire gladly with you whether you are interested in it against payment fitting advertising formats on your web page to merge. Gladly I can dispatch on your desire a concrete and noncommittal offer to you.
Please communicate to me whether you are interested in further information.
Yours sincerely,
Tanja Kastner
Werbeberaterin
Business development department
Geeko graduation
P.S.: In order to receive from us no further offers, you answer please with bright email. We will then remove your email address immediately from the distributor.
I'll be sure to respond with a bright email. Maybe a nice neon green.
Showing posts with label Funny?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funny?. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Art of Moviewatching
A friend and I were arguing about whether it's okay to see a movie alone. He routinely goes to the theater by himself and can't fathom how anyone thinks this is a strange thing. Most other people think that seeing a movie by yourself is just plain wrong. "Why do you need someone to see a movie? Do you need someone at home when you watch a movie? You get your popcorn, your Nestle Iced Tea and you enjoy the movie. It's the most natural thing in the world." He makes a good point... or does he?
I actually fall somewhere in the middle of the argument. I probably could see a movie alone. In fact, I once did. A few years ago I found myself downtown with a couple hours to kill before meeting friends. So I decided to see a movie by myself. Jurassic Park 3. And I couldn't help but feel ashamed while I sat there all alone. As did everyone else. The movie was that bad. But in a more accurate way, I had more to feel ashamed of. I had no one to lean over to during the previews and say "I can't believe they made a sequel to that!" or to repeat all my favourite lines during the movie immediately after hearing them.
Aside from the awkward factor, it's a terrible waste of space. You're essentially taking up 3 seats all to yourself. No one will ever sit beside a stranger in a theater unless absolutely necessary. So if you're on your own, that's really 3 seats you're taking up. In other words, you're using only 33% of your socially allotted space. Also to take into consideration is the fact that you're likely to be given more than a 1 seat buffer by anyone in your row. Either they'll assume you have a friend in the lobby or they don't want to sit near the loser who's by himself out of fear you'll start talking to them or, heaven forbid, the movie itself. Of course, the more people in your group, the more efficient your space ratio becomes. For example, a group of 6 people works at a fantastic 75% clip. The only respectable option for a solo viewer is to take an aisle seat. Its benefits are two fold: a) You are taking up the same percentage of seats as a couple and b) You can make a bee line to the exit once the movie's over, to avoid eye contact with anyone who figured out you have no friends.
And then, when you walk out of the theater, you run into someone you know coming out of another movie that just finished. You exchange pleasantries until she asks what movie you saw. You say "Fast & Furious". She laughs nervously and asks who you managed to drag to that. You tell her you saw it alone. She once again laughs nervously. There's an uncomfortable pause... and then she abruptly says she'll see you around.
That's why we don't see movies alone.
I actually fall somewhere in the middle of the argument. I probably could see a movie alone. In fact, I once did. A few years ago I found myself downtown with a couple hours to kill before meeting friends. So I decided to see a movie by myself. Jurassic Park 3. And I couldn't help but feel ashamed while I sat there all alone. As did everyone else. The movie was that bad. But in a more accurate way, I had more to feel ashamed of. I had no one to lean over to during the previews and say "I can't believe they made a sequel to that!" or to repeat all my favourite lines during the movie immediately after hearing them.
Aside from the awkward factor, it's a terrible waste of space. You're essentially taking up 3 seats all to yourself. No one will ever sit beside a stranger in a theater unless absolutely necessary. So if you're on your own, that's really 3 seats you're taking up. In other words, you're using only 33% of your socially allotted space. Also to take into consideration is the fact that you're likely to be given more than a 1 seat buffer by anyone in your row. Either they'll assume you have a friend in the lobby or they don't want to sit near the loser who's by himself out of fear you'll start talking to them or, heaven forbid, the movie itself. Of course, the more people in your group, the more efficient your space ratio becomes. For example, a group of 6 people works at a fantastic 75% clip. The only respectable option for a solo viewer is to take an aisle seat. Its benefits are two fold: a) You are taking up the same percentage of seats as a couple and b) You can make a bee line to the exit once the movie's over, to avoid eye contact with anyone who figured out you have no friends.
And then, when you walk out of the theater, you run into someone you know coming out of another movie that just finished. You exchange pleasantries until she asks what movie you saw. You say "Fast & Furious". She laughs nervously and asks who you managed to drag to that. You tell her you saw it alone. She once again laughs nervously. There's an uncomfortable pause... and then she abruptly says she'll see you around.
That's why we don't see movies alone.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
April 22nd, 2006
This is the running diary of my 25th birthday party. I left it pretty much as is, aside from a few small changes. The postscript at the end was written then as well. I hope it amuses.
6:54 PM - Stop by the bank to take out some money, just in case my cheapskate friends don't pay for me. Man, my friends suck.
6:56 PM - Holy shit... I have significantly more money than I remembered having. Mr Account Balance got me an early present. Either that or Revenue Qubec is processing taxes at an astonishing rate. I suspect the latter.
7:00 PM - Get to Sharx Pool Hall right in time for Game 1 of the Montreal Canadiens vs Carolina Hurricanes. Sister Sheree and Brother Bobby are the only ones there so far. No worries. I'm sure everyone's just warming up and getting ready to leave. Stretching... jogging on the spot... that kinda stuff.
7:11 PM - Matt Cullen scores for the Hurricanes. Less than a minute into the game. Wonderful.
7:20 PM - Bobby: "You just know that some really marginal acquaintance is going to show up first while it's just Sheree and I here. It's gonna be so awkward. I can't wait."
7:30 PM - Like always, Bobby is wrong. Jen and Nancy show up first. We switch tables to somewhere right beside a TV.
8:00 PM - My dad shows up to play a few quick games, says he's gonna teach us what real pool is like. Gives me $50 and says I can keep it if I beat him. And you people wonder why my brother and I are obsessively competitive.
8:01 PM - So my dad's pretty good.
8:03 PM - Alright. I'll get him in the rematch.
(Just to fill you in... according to family lore, my dad was quite the pool hustler in his youth. My grandfather used to hang out at the bar my dad played at because he'd never have to pay for a beer, he'd simply bet on him or my dad would pay the tab with his winnings. He's got a few trophies lying around the house too. I don't remember him being that good when I was a kid, but he obviously went easy on me... and neglected to teach me how to be half as good as him.)
8:10 PM - Tara and Janice show up. So we've got my father, brother, sister, girlfriend, girlfriend's sister... then friend and someone I've never met from Pittsburgh. And here's where I have to make sure they don't think they're walking in on a family reunion. In the background my brother sinks maybe 3 balls in the game against dad. I've got one more match before he has to go.
8:15 PM - After once again clearing off the table, Dad scratches on the eight ball on the easiest shot he had. I seriously question the legitimacy of that shot. My dad walks up to me as I try to hand back the $50 because he took a dive. Without breaking stride he shakes my hand, says "Happy birthday, kid." with a huge smile on his face and walks to the exit. This infuriates me for an instant, before I am quickly cheered up by the fact I'm $50 richer.
8:20 PM - Shane shows up by sneaking up behind me with some girl who I can only assume is a present for my birthday.
8:21 PM - Nope. Apparently they are quite cozy together and are off to go bowling.
8:30 PM - Game update: Habs are winning at this point by at least a couple of goals. Good times, everyone's happy and the TV we're watching is on RDS. Everyone else in the bar is on CBC. Our feed is about 5 seconds faster than theirs, thus we get to cheer for goals first. Suckers.
8:35 PM - Gainer and Tasha walk in. Things are starting to pick up. More food and drinks are ordered and we have a merry time watching the game and playing pool for the next hour and a half. During this time Bobby and Sheree leave, meaning I no longer have to be a role model. In the industry, we call this foreshadowing.
10:00 PM - Habs won, Sharx is done, off to a good pub, Hurley's. Shane and his girl leave us, off to do whatever it is they do.
10:10 PM - We get to Hurley's and grab a room to the left of the bar with plenty of seats and open tables. Only a group of four men are smoking cigars in the corner, but they seem friendly.
10:15 PM - Conversation flowing well... everyone getting along... getting some calls from people saying they'll show up soon. Everything is falling into place.
10:30 PM - The first shots are starting to come in. I specifically request vodka for the evening and Nancy obliges with a shot and a pint of Harp. There's not many good things to say about Nancy, but she does know her alcohol.
10:45 PM - Brad, Duke and Jason show up while Gainer leaves. Decent trade, although our crew is now sorely lacking narcolepsy.
10:50 PM - Matt arrives, followed quickly by Mazzy. Getting a little heavy on the guys right now.
10:53 PM - Tasha leaves and Marc shows up, not necessarily in that order. On one hand, the ratio is getting worse... on the other, Marc buys me a shot. Wait... I'm not sure if either of those are good things.
10:54 PM - Whiskey? Fuck you, Marc. I want vodka.
11:00 PM - Sandy and Amanda arrive to give the group a sorely needed kick of estrogen. They grab the seats right in the middle of everyone and cautiously glance around the room, not sure what they have gotten themselves into.
11:15 PM - A very heated debate breaks out about who would win in an Iron Chef competition between Marc (an actual chef) and I. For the moment, I'll admit that I'm a long shot and that Marc is the Iron Chef, but I think I can pull off an upset. Jen shotguns Chairman, while Marc and I decide on Duke, Tara and Brad as judges. Mazzy even volunteers to tape the proceedings. The theme ingredient is momentarily decided as ketchup but that is later rescinded. Once the logistics are seriously considered, it becomes clear that the chances of this happening are slim. (Although, Jen seems determined to set this up.) [Editor's note: The Iron Chef competition actually happened a while later and I had to forfeit due to illness the day of. Do not bring this up while in my presence.]
11:20 PM - Jon, Ferguson, Obie and Rakish enter the fray. Ferguson immediately orders shots. Whiskey again. Alright, at least my friends aren't cheapskates.
11:45 PM - Jon's girlfriend Myrle makes her debut along with two friends, one of whom I think was named Lindsay. Maybe the other is Rachel. To be honest, I think I could rattle off at least 20 names before I get either of them right. Sadly, I don't think I said a word to any of them other than "Nice to meet you" and "Thanks for coming" a while later. I guess there's always next year.
12:00 AM - A surprise appearance by my godwife Caro. Sandy apparently knows her because they are both from the West Island and play sports. Good for them.
12:15 AM - Someone: "Who wants to play darts?"
Jesse: "I do! I do!"
Nobody: "That's a great idea! I'm gonna go watch!"
Everyone: [dead silence]
12:20 AM - Playing an odd game of darts with Marc, Nancy and Caro. First one to hit 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 and a Bullseye wins.
12:21 AM - Tanya and Stef join the celebration. Marc and I leave the game to greet them and ask about the Badfish (Sublime tribute band) concert they were coming from. Stef had a few recordings on her cell but the sound quality left much to be desired. I couldn't tell a single song. Or maybe I was getting drunk. Nancy and Caro continue playing...
12:30 AM - Nancy and Caro are still playing and not done the game. Some guy named Mitch is taking shots for Nancy and trying to teach her how to throw. I rejoin the game, hit a bullseye and claim that I'll finish the game in 5 minutes and for everyone to set their watch.
12:36 AM - Game over. I win. I was told it was more than 5 minutes but I'll be damned if it was much more than that.
12:45 AM - Tara and Janice call it a night. In a stroke of pure genius, I slap Tara's ass on the way out. She spins around and inquires about who spanked her. I don't think it could be much clearer that it's the drunk guy grinning like an idiot. Marc points to Duke. Duke points to random man. Random Man: "Yeah. It was me." I keel over laughing and walk away. Word of mouth is that Tara tried to kick random guy in the nuts. Duke offers to buy him a drink but apparently he had a sense of humour about it.
1:00 AM - Jen leaves because she's not feeling well. Boooo-urns. She asks if I'm still doing alright. I reassure her that I'm fine, haven't had too much to drink and I'll see her when I get home. After she walks out I get a nagging suspicion that she didn't believe me... Nah.
1:10 AM - Chugging commences. Or at least, I think it was around here that I started chugging semi-competitively.
1:30 AM - Matt pulls my chair out from under me. I hit my head on the floor. Jerk.
1:30-1:45 AM - I miss several chairs which were not pulled out from under me and drink whatever I get my hands on. At least that's what I am told. The end is near.
1:50 AM - I start challenging anyone in the room to chug with me, eventually heading over to the guys in the corner, including Mitch, the dude who was playing darts. He says he'll chug with me but our beers are uneven. I try to even them out to no avail when he asks if I really want to do this because he was in the army or something. I yell out something along the lines of "Hey everyone! Mr. Kosovo thinks he can drink more than me!" before questioning his military authenticity by telling him he can't do pushups. He starts doing pushups. I either hit him with a chair, sat on him, or both. Instead of kicking my ass, he seems amused.
1:52 AM - In all confusion following the pushups, I decide it'd be fun to throw a closed umbrella clear across the room at Jason. Maybe 10 or 20 feet tops. It hits the table and wipes out everything on it. Strike... and strike.
1:55 AM - The bouncer comes in and demands to know who threw the umbrella and tells us all to leave. Before I can say anything Mitch intervenes, tells the bouncer that he threw it and says we were all leaving anyways. I told Mitch he didn't have to do that. He says it's my birthday and I entertained his friends so he didn't want me getting in trouble. Amazing.
2:00 AM - I am kicked out of a bar for the first time in my life.
Unknown - I am suddenly throwing up in the middle seat of a cab. Driver flips out and kicks us all out into the street... in the pouring rain. I think we're around the Imperial Tobacco buildings.
Unknown - I am awakened in a cab by my house. I tell friends that I'm fine and try to walk out on my own. Stepping out the car door and falling face first onto the trunk of the cab proves otherwise. I am brought into the stairs of my house and assure my friends I'm okay there.
Unknown - I am shivering and peel off my soaking wet clothes to go to bed.
10:00 AM - Lying in bed. Pain. Lots of pain. Jen is there and fills me in on a few gaps. Notably the fact that I apparently only got into bed around 4:30 AM yet I was dropped off at my house around 3:00 AM. Nice.
10:10 AM - Jen: "So, did you have a good time last night?"
Jesse: "Yup."
POST SCRIPT - As I have become aware of, Mitch is apparently the Umpire in chief of NDG Baseball. I don't know if he recognized Jason, Brad or myself, but it's more than likely that our paths have crossed and will cross again in the future. It is also a handy explanation of why I threw the umbrella, since Brad and Jason were yelling to Mitch about baseball when I chucked it... however, I prefer to think I had better reasons than that.
6:54 PM - Stop by the bank to take out some money, just in case my cheapskate friends don't pay for me. Man, my friends suck.
6:56 PM - Holy shit... I have significantly more money than I remembered having. Mr Account Balance got me an early present. Either that or Revenue Qubec is processing taxes at an astonishing rate. I suspect the latter.
7:00 PM - Get to Sharx Pool Hall right in time for Game 1 of the Montreal Canadiens vs Carolina Hurricanes. Sister Sheree and Brother Bobby are the only ones there so far. No worries. I'm sure everyone's just warming up and getting ready to leave. Stretching... jogging on the spot... that kinda stuff.
7:11 PM - Matt Cullen scores for the Hurricanes. Less than a minute into the game. Wonderful.
7:20 PM - Bobby: "You just know that some really marginal acquaintance is going to show up first while it's just Sheree and I here. It's gonna be so awkward. I can't wait."
7:30 PM - Like always, Bobby is wrong. Jen and Nancy show up first. We switch tables to somewhere right beside a TV.
8:00 PM - My dad shows up to play a few quick games, says he's gonna teach us what real pool is like. Gives me $50 and says I can keep it if I beat him. And you people wonder why my brother and I are obsessively competitive.
8:01 PM - So my dad's pretty good.
8:03 PM - Alright. I'll get him in the rematch.
(Just to fill you in... according to family lore, my dad was quite the pool hustler in his youth. My grandfather used to hang out at the bar my dad played at because he'd never have to pay for a beer, he'd simply bet on him or my dad would pay the tab with his winnings. He's got a few trophies lying around the house too. I don't remember him being that good when I was a kid, but he obviously went easy on me... and neglected to teach me how to be half as good as him.)
8:10 PM - Tara and Janice show up. So we've got my father, brother, sister, girlfriend, girlfriend's sister... then friend and someone I've never met from Pittsburgh. And here's where I have to make sure they don't think they're walking in on a family reunion. In the background my brother sinks maybe 3 balls in the game against dad. I've got one more match before he has to go.
8:15 PM - After once again clearing off the table, Dad scratches on the eight ball on the easiest shot he had. I seriously question the legitimacy of that shot. My dad walks up to me as I try to hand back the $50 because he took a dive. Without breaking stride he shakes my hand, says "Happy birthday, kid." with a huge smile on his face and walks to the exit. This infuriates me for an instant, before I am quickly cheered up by the fact I'm $50 richer.
8:20 PM - Shane shows up by sneaking up behind me with some girl who I can only assume is a present for my birthday.
8:21 PM - Nope. Apparently they are quite cozy together and are off to go bowling.
8:30 PM - Game update: Habs are winning at this point by at least a couple of goals. Good times, everyone's happy and the TV we're watching is on RDS. Everyone else in the bar is on CBC. Our feed is about 5 seconds faster than theirs, thus we get to cheer for goals first. Suckers.
8:35 PM - Gainer and Tasha walk in. Things are starting to pick up. More food and drinks are ordered and we have a merry time watching the game and playing pool for the next hour and a half. During this time Bobby and Sheree leave, meaning I no longer have to be a role model. In the industry, we call this foreshadowing.
10:00 PM - Habs won, Sharx is done, off to a good pub, Hurley's. Shane and his girl leave us, off to do whatever it is they do.
10:10 PM - We get to Hurley's and grab a room to the left of the bar with plenty of seats and open tables. Only a group of four men are smoking cigars in the corner, but they seem friendly.
10:15 PM - Conversation flowing well... everyone getting along... getting some calls from people saying they'll show up soon. Everything is falling into place.
10:30 PM - The first shots are starting to come in. I specifically request vodka for the evening and Nancy obliges with a shot and a pint of Harp. There's not many good things to say about Nancy, but she does know her alcohol.
10:45 PM - Brad, Duke and Jason show up while Gainer leaves. Decent trade, although our crew is now sorely lacking narcolepsy.
10:50 PM - Matt arrives, followed quickly by Mazzy. Getting a little heavy on the guys right now.
10:53 PM - Tasha leaves and Marc shows up, not necessarily in that order. On one hand, the ratio is getting worse... on the other, Marc buys me a shot. Wait... I'm not sure if either of those are good things.
10:54 PM - Whiskey? Fuck you, Marc. I want vodka.
11:00 PM - Sandy and Amanda arrive to give the group a sorely needed kick of estrogen. They grab the seats right in the middle of everyone and cautiously glance around the room, not sure what they have gotten themselves into.
11:15 PM - A very heated debate breaks out about who would win in an Iron Chef competition between Marc (an actual chef) and I. For the moment, I'll admit that I'm a long shot and that Marc is the Iron Chef, but I think I can pull off an upset. Jen shotguns Chairman, while Marc and I decide on Duke, Tara and Brad as judges. Mazzy even volunteers to tape the proceedings. The theme ingredient is momentarily decided as ketchup but that is later rescinded. Once the logistics are seriously considered, it becomes clear that the chances of this happening are slim. (Although, Jen seems determined to set this up.) [Editor's note: The Iron Chef competition actually happened a while later and I had to forfeit due to illness the day of. Do not bring this up while in my presence.]
11:20 PM - Jon, Ferguson, Obie and Rakish enter the fray. Ferguson immediately orders shots. Whiskey again. Alright, at least my friends aren't cheapskates.
11:45 PM - Jon's girlfriend Myrle makes her debut along with two friends, one of whom I think was named Lindsay. Maybe the other is Rachel. To be honest, I think I could rattle off at least 20 names before I get either of them right. Sadly, I don't think I said a word to any of them other than "Nice to meet you" and "Thanks for coming" a while later. I guess there's always next year.
12:00 AM - A surprise appearance by my godwife Caro. Sandy apparently knows her because they are both from the West Island and play sports. Good for them.
12:15 AM - Someone: "Who wants to play darts?"
Jesse: "I do! I do!"
Nobody: "That's a great idea! I'm gonna go watch!"
Everyone: [dead silence]
12:20 AM - Playing an odd game of darts with Marc, Nancy and Caro. First one to hit 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 and a Bullseye wins.
12:21 AM - Tanya and Stef join the celebration. Marc and I leave the game to greet them and ask about the Badfish (Sublime tribute band) concert they were coming from. Stef had a few recordings on her cell but the sound quality left much to be desired. I couldn't tell a single song. Or maybe I was getting drunk. Nancy and Caro continue playing...
12:30 AM - Nancy and Caro are still playing and not done the game. Some guy named Mitch is taking shots for Nancy and trying to teach her how to throw. I rejoin the game, hit a bullseye and claim that I'll finish the game in 5 minutes and for everyone to set their watch.
12:36 AM - Game over. I win. I was told it was more than 5 minutes but I'll be damned if it was much more than that.
12:45 AM - Tara and Janice call it a night. In a stroke of pure genius, I slap Tara's ass on the way out. She spins around and inquires about who spanked her. I don't think it could be much clearer that it's the drunk guy grinning like an idiot. Marc points to Duke. Duke points to random man. Random Man: "Yeah. It was me." I keel over laughing and walk away. Word of mouth is that Tara tried to kick random guy in the nuts. Duke offers to buy him a drink but apparently he had a sense of humour about it.
1:00 AM - Jen leaves because she's not feeling well. Boooo-urns. She asks if I'm still doing alright. I reassure her that I'm fine, haven't had too much to drink and I'll see her when I get home. After she walks out I get a nagging suspicion that she didn't believe me... Nah.
1:10 AM - Chugging commences. Or at least, I think it was around here that I started chugging semi-competitively.
1:30 AM - Matt pulls my chair out from under me. I hit my head on the floor. Jerk.
1:30-1:45 AM - I miss several chairs which were not pulled out from under me and drink whatever I get my hands on. At least that's what I am told. The end is near.
1:50 AM - I start challenging anyone in the room to chug with me, eventually heading over to the guys in the corner, including Mitch, the dude who was playing darts. He says he'll chug with me but our beers are uneven. I try to even them out to no avail when he asks if I really want to do this because he was in the army or something. I yell out something along the lines of "Hey everyone! Mr. Kosovo thinks he can drink more than me!" before questioning his military authenticity by telling him he can't do pushups. He starts doing pushups. I either hit him with a chair, sat on him, or both. Instead of kicking my ass, he seems amused.
1:52 AM - In all confusion following the pushups, I decide it'd be fun to throw a closed umbrella clear across the room at Jason. Maybe 10 or 20 feet tops. It hits the table and wipes out everything on it. Strike... and strike.
1:55 AM - The bouncer comes in and demands to know who threw the umbrella and tells us all to leave. Before I can say anything Mitch intervenes, tells the bouncer that he threw it and says we were all leaving anyways. I told Mitch he didn't have to do that. He says it's my birthday and I entertained his friends so he didn't want me getting in trouble. Amazing.
2:00 AM - I am kicked out of a bar for the first time in my life.
Unknown - I am suddenly throwing up in the middle seat of a cab. Driver flips out and kicks us all out into the street... in the pouring rain. I think we're around the Imperial Tobacco buildings.
Unknown - I am awakened in a cab by my house. I tell friends that I'm fine and try to walk out on my own. Stepping out the car door and falling face first onto the trunk of the cab proves otherwise. I am brought into the stairs of my house and assure my friends I'm okay there.
Unknown - I am shivering and peel off my soaking wet clothes to go to bed.
10:00 AM - Lying in bed. Pain. Lots of pain. Jen is there and fills me in on a few gaps. Notably the fact that I apparently only got into bed around 4:30 AM yet I was dropped off at my house around 3:00 AM. Nice.
10:10 AM - Jen: "So, did you have a good time last night?"
Jesse: "Yup."
POST SCRIPT - As I have become aware of, Mitch is apparently the Umpire in chief of NDG Baseball. I don't know if he recognized Jason, Brad or myself, but it's more than likely that our paths have crossed and will cross again in the future. It is also a handy explanation of why I threw the umbrella, since Brad and Jason were yelling to Mitch about baseball when I chucked it... however, I prefer to think I had better reasons than that.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Jesse G's Guide to Healthy Living, Vol. 2
The lesson: Reach for the stars.
It was back in the summer of 2002... I was living downtown, just left my job to go back to school and American Idol had taken the world by storm. Like everyone else, I watched the first season and laughed at all the auditions. And lets be honest, that's why people watch the show. If you're a real fan of music, Idol is the last place you should be looking for it. There's this thing called the radio if you want to find music. Once you're done with that, I'll teach you about the iPod.
You can't help but feel a little bad about some of the hopefuls. And to clear my conscience about laughing at them, I decided I would try out as soon as there was a Canadian Idol. That way, I could giggle guilt free. I also convinced myself that maybe I'd get through a round. I have a pretty deep baritone and people have told me I should be on the radio. They probably meant I'd make a good morning host, but let's not split hairs. My voice is clearly meant to be heard.
I was a little too impatient to wait around for Canadian Idol. Not knowing whether it'd ever be created, I saw an ad for Popstars and jumped at it. This was an Idol clone that was around in Canada. I forget whether it was to try out for a group or to become a solo artist but that didn't matter much, I was determined to make an ass of myself. Whether it be on my own or with the help of others, so be it.
It was only an hour before the deadline for auditions by the time I psyched myself up to go down there. I told a few people about it but no one really believed I was actually gonna go through with it. (Another lesson: Friends are useless.) A small part of me was hoping there'd be a huge line and I wouldn't be able to get in. Okay, maybe a large part of me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I got there and there was nobody around. Aw shucks. I guess they were full and told everyone to go home. Until I saw someone sitting down at the registration table.
Jesse: "Uh, is this the place for the Popstars auditions?"
Guy: "Yeah, fill this out and go on in."
Jesse: "Are there a lot of people inside? Like, what's the waiting time?"
Guy: "Oh, don't worry, it should take 30 minutes tops."
They slapped a number on me and directed me to the auditorium. I walked in and surveyed the scene. About 50 people in line and a very sparse crew. And a large stage with 5 microphone stands. No sign of any judges. Almost immediately 5 people take the stage and get their own mic. Each person sang for about 30 seconds and then they all walked off the stage. No critique or anything. I guess it was the screening stage. Either way, I was unimpressed.
After hearing a few people sing, I started to think I was making a terrible mistake. Then a production assistant asked me what song I was going to sing. It was then that I realized I made a terrible mistake. I told her I hadn't decided yet. She said I only had 5 songs to choose from. Three of them I didn't know the words, one was an Eminem song and the other was... Nickelback. "How You Remind Me". Well, at least I know the words.
Waiting in line, it was fairly obvious who was taking it seriously and who wasn't. I wasn't. Everyone else was. And then the girl next to me started hyperventilating.
Jesse: "You okay?"
HyperGirl: "I dunno. Just really nervous... [trying to take deep breaths] You don't seem nervous..."
Jesse: [shrugging] "Well... you know... whatever happens, happens."
HyperGirl: [pondering my advice] "Whatever happens, happens. Whatever happens, happens." [repeating it like a creepy mantra] "Okay... thanks!"
She lasted a good 5 minutes before freaking out again.
Finally, it was the moment of truth. I was called up to the stage along with 4 other people. Naturally, I was center stage. However, the next few minutes are a bit of a blur. Here is what I remember:
- HyperGirl was actually pretty good. She had nothing to worry about.
- I was not good. I got the lyrics right but the spotlight was bright and I didn't know who to look at, so I think I sang with my eyes closed. That's right. I was in the zone, baby.
- As soon as I stopped singing and stepped away from the mic, I started cracking up. It was as if the sheer absurdity of what I'd just done hit me all at once. Of course, the guy who sang right after me was terrible, so it looked like I was laughing at him. Which only made me laugh harder. I tried my best to hold it all in but I don't know how good of a job I did. It probably looked like I was having a seizure.
By the time I left the stage, I was wiping tears of laughter off my face when a production assistant made her way over to me...
PA: "It's okay, you weren't that bad."
Jesse: [sniff] "How do I know if I made it through?"
PA: "What? Oh, um... don't worry about it."
It was back in the summer of 2002... I was living downtown, just left my job to go back to school and American Idol had taken the world by storm. Like everyone else, I watched the first season and laughed at all the auditions. And lets be honest, that's why people watch the show. If you're a real fan of music, Idol is the last place you should be looking for it. There's this thing called the radio if you want to find music. Once you're done with that, I'll teach you about the iPod.
You can't help but feel a little bad about some of the hopefuls. And to clear my conscience about laughing at them, I decided I would try out as soon as there was a Canadian Idol. That way, I could giggle guilt free. I also convinced myself that maybe I'd get through a round. I have a pretty deep baritone and people have told me I should be on the radio. They probably meant I'd make a good morning host, but let's not split hairs. My voice is clearly meant to be heard.
I was a little too impatient to wait around for Canadian Idol. Not knowing whether it'd ever be created, I saw an ad for Popstars and jumped at it. This was an Idol clone that was around in Canada. I forget whether it was to try out for a group or to become a solo artist but that didn't matter much, I was determined to make an ass of myself. Whether it be on my own or with the help of others, so be it.
It was only an hour before the deadline for auditions by the time I psyched myself up to go down there. I told a few people about it but no one really believed I was actually gonna go through with it. (Another lesson: Friends are useless.) A small part of me was hoping there'd be a huge line and I wouldn't be able to get in. Okay, maybe a large part of me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I got there and there was nobody around. Aw shucks. I guess they were full and told everyone to go home. Until I saw someone sitting down at the registration table.
Jesse: "Uh, is this the place for the Popstars auditions?"
Guy: "Yeah, fill this out and go on in."
Jesse: "Are there a lot of people inside? Like, what's the waiting time?"
Guy: "Oh, don't worry, it should take 30 minutes tops."
They slapped a number on me and directed me to the auditorium. I walked in and surveyed the scene. About 50 people in line and a very sparse crew. And a large stage with 5 microphone stands. No sign of any judges. Almost immediately 5 people take the stage and get their own mic. Each person sang for about 30 seconds and then they all walked off the stage. No critique or anything. I guess it was the screening stage. Either way, I was unimpressed.
After hearing a few people sing, I started to think I was making a terrible mistake. Then a production assistant asked me what song I was going to sing. It was then that I realized I made a terrible mistake. I told her I hadn't decided yet. She said I only had 5 songs to choose from. Three of them I didn't know the words, one was an Eminem song and the other was... Nickelback. "How You Remind Me". Well, at least I know the words.
Waiting in line, it was fairly obvious who was taking it seriously and who wasn't. I wasn't. Everyone else was. And then the girl next to me started hyperventilating.
Jesse: "You okay?"
HyperGirl: "I dunno. Just really nervous... [trying to take deep breaths] You don't seem nervous..."
Jesse: [shrugging] "Well... you know... whatever happens, happens."
HyperGirl: [pondering my advice] "Whatever happens, happens. Whatever happens, happens." [repeating it like a creepy mantra] "Okay... thanks!"
She lasted a good 5 minutes before freaking out again.
Finally, it was the moment of truth. I was called up to the stage along with 4 other people. Naturally, I was center stage. However, the next few minutes are a bit of a blur. Here is what I remember:
- HyperGirl was actually pretty good. She had nothing to worry about.
- I was not good. I got the lyrics right but the spotlight was bright and I didn't know who to look at, so I think I sang with my eyes closed. That's right. I was in the zone, baby.
- As soon as I stopped singing and stepped away from the mic, I started cracking up. It was as if the sheer absurdity of what I'd just done hit me all at once. Of course, the guy who sang right after me was terrible, so it looked like I was laughing at him. Which only made me laugh harder. I tried my best to hold it all in but I don't know how good of a job I did. It probably looked like I was having a seizure.
By the time I left the stage, I was wiping tears of laughter off my face when a production assistant made her way over to me...
PA: "It's okay, you weren't that bad."
Jesse: [sniff] "How do I know if I made it through?"
PA: "What? Oh, um... don't worry about it."
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Jesse G's Guide to Healthy Living, Vol. 1
The lesson: Surgery is bad.
By the age of 25, I had surgery on both of my knees. As far as I know, I don't have some sort of crippling disease. But I do have terrible luck and knees made out of an impressive combination of styrofoam and toothpicks. Maybe a pipe cleaner or two for reinforcement. My knees have the structural integrity of whatever kindergarteners make in arts and crafts, but without the googly eyes.
The first such instance of knee dysfunction came when I was 16. I was playing basketball in my friends driveway when I simply bent over to pick up the ball and inexplicably tore up cartilage in my left knee. I might as well have broken my collarbone opening a jar of pickles. My friends laughed at me, told me to quit being a baby and someone whipped the basketball at my crotch. Let me tell you, a basketball to the crotch does not distract from the pain of a torn meniscus. It only adds different layers of pain. Provides a certain depth. And do I detect a hint of nausea in there as well? Ahhhh... yes, I do.
I had surgery a few months later. By this time I was 17, had a goatee and was a fully grown man, despite being treated at the Children's Hospital. To prove my manhood, I asked the nurse what would happen if I tried to stay awake after she put on the gas mask. She smiled and told me to give it a shot, she'll start a conversation and see how long I could go. Oh yes, I was going to impress this female nurse by showing off my tolerance for anesthetics. Until about 10 seconds in when she started talking like the teacher on Charlie Brown. My last clear thought was getting angry at her for talking like that.
When I woke up I was cold and shaking. Have you ever woken up cold and shaking? And with your leg swollen and propped up? And people were also trying to stop me from shaking so they could put me back on IV, you know, because I shook the needle out of my arm while I was unconscious. I think it would have been less of a shock to my body if they threw me in a tub of water and dropped a toaster in. By the time it was all sorted out, I had the IV needle sticking out of my elbow pit, if that's what you'd call it. I've never heard the term "elbow pit" before, but I really wouldn't know what else to call it. They taped a board to my arm so I couldn't bend it and mess up the IV. So there I was, with the entire left side of my body completely paralyzed. All I was missing was the smell of burnt toast.
After warming up, I was very thirsty. I asked the nurse for a glass of water. She must have misheard me, because she came back with a shot no bigger than a bottle cap. I downed it and asked for another. And she brought me another. And I asked for another. She said that most people are nauseous after surgery and can't hold down foods or liquids. I explained to her that I wasn't a little kid, I was a 17 year old man with a beard. So she brought me a half full glass of apple juice and said if I keep it down she'll give me more later.
Next my dad walked in to visit. I was telling him about all the gas mask and stuff. "Yeah, I tried to fight it and then she started talking all funny. Like the teacher from Charlie Br-AAAAGGGHHH... oh no..." Now remember, I couldn't move. I threw up about half a pint of watered down apple juice all over my chest and bed sheets. My dad started screaming for a nurse as if I'd gone into convulsions.
Dad: "Nurse! NURSE! Somebody help! GET A DOCTOR!"
Jesse: "No, no! No, Dad, please! Not the nurse! I'm fine..."
But it was too late. I got a very nice 'Told ya so' from the nurse while she changed my pukey bedsheets and explained to my dad that I was only sick because I had too much to drink. She never did admit to poisoning the apple juice. The rest of the night at the hospital was quite nice.
Jesse: [waking up in the middle of the night] "hhmmm... wha?"
Nurse: "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. How are you feeling?"
Jesse: [taking a second to ponder] "uhhh... I feel good actually. Yeah. very good."
Nurse: "You should. I just gave you some morphine."
The fun didn't end there though. When I got home the next day, I finally got to change clothes and take a shower. It was then that I discovered a perfect rectangle shaved into my thigh. On my good leg. It didn't bother me all that much, but it's a little peculiar, isn't it? The next time I saw the doctor I asked him about it.
Doctor: "Oh yes. The nurses do that sometimes."
Jesse: "Okay. Why?"
Doctor: "Just standard procedure."
Bullshit. I bet those nurses get together every night and tell each other what ridiculous things they did to their patients.
Nurse 1: "While some kid was sleeping I shaved a patch of his leg. Then I poisoned his apple juice and made him throw up in front of his father!"
Nurse 2: "I gave some little girl sugar pills and told her it was real medicine!"
Nurse 3: "I cut off some boy's nipple and re-attached it two inches higher. I win!"
All of them: "Nurse high five!"
When my second knee surgery came around, I thought I was ready for anything. I'm gonna be cold, shaking, shaved and throwing up. Got it. Cool. I didn't even fight the gas mask this time. In fact, I woke up quite peacefully. After looking around a bit I started taking inventory of my senses. Can I move my hands and fingers? Check. Feet and toes? Hmmm... the left foot is still pretty frozen, I'll give it some time. So I guessed my body slowly thawed out from the anesthesia, from the extremities in. A while later I started poking around a bit more. Chest, stomach and ribs were all good. Heh, my ass is still a bit- HOLY CRAP! I CAN'T FEEL MY PENIS!
I gave it a good yank and it might as well have been someone else's. I was still completely frozen from my waist to upper thighs. Quite alarming. Unfortunately, I had no other choice but to wait patiently to feel again. And then all of a sudden I had to go pee really badly. But I was still numb in the crotch, so I waited. And kept waiting. And waited until I could not possibly hold it in any longer and asked a nurse if I could go to the bathroom. After struggling with the crutches I hobbled over to the bathroom and sat down because I couldn't stand. And... nothing.
I couldn't pee. I had to go as bad as I've ever had to go in my entire life and I couldn't even force myself to. I just sat there for ten minutes, talking to my frozen dick, hoping for something to happen. The nurse eventually came by to check on me.
Nurse: "Is everything okay? Do you need any-"
Jesse: "YES! NO! I mean, I'm fine! No help!"
Eventually I had to give up. It was the least satisfying experience of my life. Ladies, if sleeping with a guy who can't finish the job is ANYTHING like that, my sincerest condolences. I'd be homicidal if that ever happened to me again, let alone regularly.
My lovely girlfriend picked me up from the hospital. She helped me into the car and asked how everything went.
Jesse: "I can't feel my penis and I have to pee worse than I ever have in my entire life but I can't. I think I'm going to die."
Jen: "WHAT? And they let you leave?"
Jesse: "Oh, they don't know. I didn't tell them."
Jen: "Why didn't you tell them?!? What the hell's wrong with you? I'm taking you back."
Jesse: "No, no, no! Look, we're closer to home now and I think I might pee my pants any minute. I am NOT going back there after pissing my pants. Actually, I might be going right now. [checks] Nope. We're all good."
Jen: [sighs] "Fine, but if you don't go as soon as you get home I'm making you wear diapers tonight."
Luckily, soon after I got home I regained partial control of my bladder and broke some kind of record for Longest Low-Pressure Piss.
By the age of 25, I had surgery on both of my knees. As far as I know, I don't have some sort of crippling disease. But I do have terrible luck and knees made out of an impressive combination of styrofoam and toothpicks. Maybe a pipe cleaner or two for reinforcement. My knees have the structural integrity of whatever kindergarteners make in arts and crafts, but without the googly eyes.
The first such instance of knee dysfunction came when I was 16. I was playing basketball in my friends driveway when I simply bent over to pick up the ball and inexplicably tore up cartilage in my left knee. I might as well have broken my collarbone opening a jar of pickles. My friends laughed at me, told me to quit being a baby and someone whipped the basketball at my crotch. Let me tell you, a basketball to the crotch does not distract from the pain of a torn meniscus. It only adds different layers of pain. Provides a certain depth. And do I detect a hint of nausea in there as well? Ahhhh... yes, I do.
I had surgery a few months later. By this time I was 17, had a goatee and was a fully grown man, despite being treated at the Children's Hospital. To prove my manhood, I asked the nurse what would happen if I tried to stay awake after she put on the gas mask. She smiled and told me to give it a shot, she'll start a conversation and see how long I could go. Oh yes, I was going to impress this female nurse by showing off my tolerance for anesthetics. Until about 10 seconds in when she started talking like the teacher on Charlie Brown. My last clear thought was getting angry at her for talking like that.
When I woke up I was cold and shaking. Have you ever woken up cold and shaking? And with your leg swollen and propped up? And people were also trying to stop me from shaking so they could put me back on IV, you know, because I shook the needle out of my arm while I was unconscious. I think it would have been less of a shock to my body if they threw me in a tub of water and dropped a toaster in. By the time it was all sorted out, I had the IV needle sticking out of my elbow pit, if that's what you'd call it. I've never heard the term "elbow pit" before, but I really wouldn't know what else to call it. They taped a board to my arm so I couldn't bend it and mess up the IV. So there I was, with the entire left side of my body completely paralyzed. All I was missing was the smell of burnt toast.
After warming up, I was very thirsty. I asked the nurse for a glass of water. She must have misheard me, because she came back with a shot no bigger than a bottle cap. I downed it and asked for another. And she brought me another. And I asked for another. She said that most people are nauseous after surgery and can't hold down foods or liquids. I explained to her that I wasn't a little kid, I was a 17 year old man with a beard. So she brought me a half full glass of apple juice and said if I keep it down she'll give me more later.
Next my dad walked in to visit. I was telling him about all the gas mask and stuff. "Yeah, I tried to fight it and then she started talking all funny. Like the teacher from Charlie Br-AAAAGGGHHH... oh no..." Now remember, I couldn't move. I threw up about half a pint of watered down apple juice all over my chest and bed sheets. My dad started screaming for a nurse as if I'd gone into convulsions.
Dad: "Nurse! NURSE! Somebody help! GET A DOCTOR!"
Jesse: "No, no! No, Dad, please! Not the nurse! I'm fine..."
But it was too late. I got a very nice 'Told ya so' from the nurse while she changed my pukey bedsheets and explained to my dad that I was only sick because I had too much to drink. She never did admit to poisoning the apple juice. The rest of the night at the hospital was quite nice.
Jesse: [waking up in the middle of the night] "hhmmm... wha?"
Nurse: "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. How are you feeling?"
Jesse: [taking a second to ponder] "uhhh... I feel good actually. Yeah. very good."
Nurse: "You should. I just gave you some morphine."
The fun didn't end there though. When I got home the next day, I finally got to change clothes and take a shower. It was then that I discovered a perfect rectangle shaved into my thigh. On my good leg. It didn't bother me all that much, but it's a little peculiar, isn't it? The next time I saw the doctor I asked him about it.
Doctor: "Oh yes. The nurses do that sometimes."
Jesse: "Okay. Why?"
Doctor: "Just standard procedure."
Bullshit. I bet those nurses get together every night and tell each other what ridiculous things they did to their patients.
Nurse 1: "While some kid was sleeping I shaved a patch of his leg. Then I poisoned his apple juice and made him throw up in front of his father!"
Nurse 2: "I gave some little girl sugar pills and told her it was real medicine!"
Nurse 3: "I cut off some boy's nipple and re-attached it two inches higher. I win!"
All of them: "Nurse high five!"
When my second knee surgery came around, I thought I was ready for anything. I'm gonna be cold, shaking, shaved and throwing up. Got it. Cool. I didn't even fight the gas mask this time. In fact, I woke up quite peacefully. After looking around a bit I started taking inventory of my senses. Can I move my hands and fingers? Check. Feet and toes? Hmmm... the left foot is still pretty frozen, I'll give it some time. So I guessed my body slowly thawed out from the anesthesia, from the extremities in. A while later I started poking around a bit more. Chest, stomach and ribs were all good. Heh, my ass is still a bit- HOLY CRAP! I CAN'T FEEL MY PENIS!
I gave it a good yank and it might as well have been someone else's. I was still completely frozen from my waist to upper thighs. Quite alarming. Unfortunately, I had no other choice but to wait patiently to feel again. And then all of a sudden I had to go pee really badly. But I was still numb in the crotch, so I waited. And kept waiting. And waited until I could not possibly hold it in any longer and asked a nurse if I could go to the bathroom. After struggling with the crutches I hobbled over to the bathroom and sat down because I couldn't stand. And... nothing.
I couldn't pee. I had to go as bad as I've ever had to go in my entire life and I couldn't even force myself to. I just sat there for ten minutes, talking to my frozen dick, hoping for something to happen. The nurse eventually came by to check on me.
Nurse: "Is everything okay? Do you need any-"
Jesse: "YES! NO! I mean, I'm fine! No help!"
Eventually I had to give up. It was the least satisfying experience of my life. Ladies, if sleeping with a guy who can't finish the job is ANYTHING like that, my sincerest condolences. I'd be homicidal if that ever happened to me again, let alone regularly.
My lovely girlfriend picked me up from the hospital. She helped me into the car and asked how everything went.
Jesse: "I can't feel my penis and I have to pee worse than I ever have in my entire life but I can't. I think I'm going to die."
Jen: "WHAT? And they let you leave?"
Jesse: "Oh, they don't know. I didn't tell them."
Jen: "Why didn't you tell them?!? What the hell's wrong with you? I'm taking you back."
Jesse: "No, no, no! Look, we're closer to home now and I think I might pee my pants any minute. I am NOT going back there after pissing my pants. Actually, I might be going right now. [checks] Nope. We're all good."
Jen: [sighs] "Fine, but if you don't go as soon as you get home I'm making you wear diapers tonight."
Luckily, soon after I got home I regained partial control of my bladder and broke some kind of record for Longest Low-Pressure Piss.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I'm a Toys R Us kid.
On Sunday night I went to an Oscar Party. I used capital letters to stress the importance of this event. Because let me tell you something, that Oscar Party was a very important day in my life.
The friend who had the party usually has friends over for poker. We drink beer, watch Arrested Development and don't act very grown up. That night I thought we'd wager on the winners and drink beer. On the way there I called him:
Me: "Hey, you want me to pick anything up? Drinks? Snacks?"
Him: "Uhhh... no, that's okay. We're good for food. There's punch, but you'll have to buy beer if you want."
Me [delighted]: "Nice! Punch sounds great! See you soon!"
What I walked into was no mere poker night. There were dozens of people crammed into his apartment and we celebrated the most pretentious award show in the world at a party that was classier than the real thing. There was a 7 foot tall lamp shaped like Oscar. There was a projection screen for the telecast and a monitor showing real time updates of who had picked the most winners. And his place was probably better catered than the actual ceremony. Sumptuous only begins to describe the food. No one could say enough about the hosts. It really was a great time. We even had a chocolate fountain. Absolutely a momentous first in my life, but not why this was evening was so important.
It was the first time I was at a party with babies. Not just any babies. My friend's babies. Babies that my friends have. My friends have babies and brought them to an Oscar Party. A couple of us looked at each other, realizing this was only the first of many get togethers involving babies. Everything has changed.
And then the hosts announce that they are engaged. Hugs, kisses and scotch all around.
Me: "You know what, I suspected it."
Him: "Really??? Why?"
Me: "You asked for my address a couple weeks ago. I thought it'd be for invites."
Him: "That was for this party. You didn't check your mailbox?"
Me: "Oh. Not really. I, uh, don't get much mail." (If I HAD checked my mail, like I did when I got home, I would have known what kind of fabulous shindig it was going to be.)
To clarify, I'm 27 years old. I really should have been expecting this. Some of my friends are married and several more are engaged. I was also aware that a few friends (and friends of friends) were pregnant. And that some of them even had babies. I just wasn't expecting to be watching a tuxedo clad Hugh Jackman dance around while eating a chorizo-stuffed-date-wrapped-in-bacon and trying not to spill my punch on the smiling babies trying to walk next to me when I woke up Sunday morning.
Don't get me wrong. I think reproducing is pretty cool. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's just a little snooty of my friends to be bringing them to parties, that's all. Bunch of showoffs. It's like they're just daring me to kidnap them. Did I say that out loud?
The friend who had the party usually has friends over for poker. We drink beer, watch Arrested Development and don't act very grown up. That night I thought we'd wager on the winners and drink beer. On the way there I called him:
Me: "Hey, you want me to pick anything up? Drinks? Snacks?"
Him: "Uhhh... no, that's okay. We're good for food. There's punch, but you'll have to buy beer if you want."
Me [delighted]: "Nice! Punch sounds great! See you soon!"
What I walked into was no mere poker night. There were dozens of people crammed into his apartment and we celebrated the most pretentious award show in the world at a party that was classier than the real thing. There was a 7 foot tall lamp shaped like Oscar. There was a projection screen for the telecast and a monitor showing real time updates of who had picked the most winners. And his place was probably better catered than the actual ceremony. Sumptuous only begins to describe the food. No one could say enough about the hosts. It really was a great time. We even had a chocolate fountain. Absolutely a momentous first in my life, but not why this was evening was so important.
It was the first time I was at a party with babies. Not just any babies. My friend's babies. Babies that my friends have. My friends have babies and brought them to an Oscar Party. A couple of us looked at each other, realizing this was only the first of many get togethers involving babies. Everything has changed.
And then the hosts announce that they are engaged. Hugs, kisses and scotch all around.
Me: "You know what, I suspected it."
Him: "Really??? Why?"
Me: "You asked for my address a couple weeks ago. I thought it'd be for invites."
Him: "That was for this party. You didn't check your mailbox?"
Me: "Oh. Not really. I, uh, don't get much mail." (If I HAD checked my mail, like I did when I got home, I would have known what kind of fabulous shindig it was going to be.)
To clarify, I'm 27 years old. I really should have been expecting this. Some of my friends are married and several more are engaged. I was also aware that a few friends (and friends of friends) were pregnant. And that some of them even had babies. I just wasn't expecting to be watching a tuxedo clad Hugh Jackman dance around while eating a chorizo-stuffed-date-wrapped-in-bacon and trying not to spill my punch on the smiling babies trying to walk next to me when I woke up Sunday morning.
Don't get me wrong. I think reproducing is pretty cool. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's just a little snooty of my friends to be bringing them to parties, that's all. Bunch of showoffs. It's like they're just daring me to kidnap them. Did I say that out loud?
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