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Back To Work: Boring Me

I haven't posted on the personal blog in awhile, so I figured what better way to make my illustrious return than writing about me and what I've been up to.

I'm knee deep in school and work, with little time for much of anything else in between. When I do get some spare time I watch some television and do some reading. I've made a few trips up to Lincoln, Nebraska to watch some football.

Some things I have been enjoying have been David Cross's "I Drink For a Reason," watching "Bored to Death" and "Dexter." Of course I'm never without my new iPod Touch and my litter of Podcasts. Some of my favorites are "WTF with Marc Maron," "Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me," and of course my old standby "Smodcast" which is director Kevin Smith and his producer Scott Mosier talking for an hour or so. It's funny, trust me.

I realize this post was very boring. And short. Boring and short, just like me. But it's been awhile and I'm scared, so next time will be better. I promise :)

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart

This past Sunday morning was a pretty rough one for me. Simply put, I mixed a few too many cocktails with several pounds of assorted meat the night before. It was quite the binge, I'd say. When I awoke Sunday morning (at 4:30AM, alone, fully clothed and lying diagonally on the bed, mind you), I felt less than horrible.

That aforementioned Saturday, I had hosted a party for some "friends" at work. Bad idea...I won't make the same mistake again. Essentially, these "friends" just wanted a place to get drunk and stupid. Meanwhile, I found myself wandering around my own house, trying to talk to all the different co-workers, and feeling completely alienated when doing so. I'm not really a part of their clique at work...I fully accept that, but it was, after all, my house and I shouldn't feel alienated there, right? Right.

I remember being eighteen or nineteen or twenty-two (sort of) and attending parties of this caliber. They weren't really fun then, either, but they were at least a bit more acceptable. It was always sort of an "I don't care who I'm with as long as I'm drunk/stoned/whatever" atmosphere. I like to think I've grown way up. Fortunately, I've maintained some friendships from that era of my life. Unfortunately, there are still people out there my age and older who are a part of that crowd.

None of this is really news to me and probably isn't worth a blog post either. It was an eye-opening experience, nonetheless.

For future reference, when the wife and I have people over it will be a two-couple max at a time. So, Stephanie and Zach (if you're reading this), be prepared to come entertain us in the near future; we'll return the favor by providing you our full attention. Sorry, Zach--no Bacon Explosion--ever again.

BFF,
JFW

You Say Tomato...

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel stuck in the middle? Most of the time I feel like a man shouting in an echo chamber when it comes to my conservative versus liberal friends and family members. I'll get emails from my Dad telling me how my guns I don't own will be taken away. I used to get emails saying how George Bush was listening to my phone calls and I should be worried. Because telling my wife to pick up bananas at the store is important information.

It's a culture of fear, and it is choking us to death. The public at large is taking their eye off the ball while casting stones at one another. Middle age white men line the streets and take the day off work to protest tax increases that didn't, and might not happen. Gay men and women march to protest their right to be married. Why are we waiting for a pat on the butt from a government we all say we don't trust? Why do we feel the need to be validated by something we dislike?

More questions than answers, which is a roadblock for everyone. The path to resolution is paved with an easy answer these days. Watching white men over history try and protect what their idea of American should be is appalling in history books. It's even more astounding watching this generation claw at it as it slips away. Latina women on the Supreme Court, a black guy with supposedly no birth certificate in the White House, and affirmative action taking their jobs. It's enough to make you think we white guys are about to be lined up next to dinosaurs and Dodo birds.

Back to everyone freaking out and attacking the people on the other side of the fence... I'll leave you with this. When talking politics these days, it's not about which political party is going to screw you. It's about when and both sides with their hands on the hot poker in your backs side will choose to shove it in.

I've got something to look forward to.

Going to see Neko Case with my wife coming up later this month, and I'm pretty pumped up about it. Here is a 20 minute interview with her. The DJ, or host if you will, is your garden variety broadcast douchebag, but the live performance with her bandmates is pretty cool. If you've never heard Ms. Case, or didn't know who she is, you should check her out.

Enjoy!

Eureka!

Before I threw my newest issue of Maxim into the big blue bin in the garage, I thought I could get some use out of it. I didn't want my last post to be the last things we said to each other, I figured since we were both adults we could figure some sort of common ground out. So we went around the house to see what sort of mischief we could create or functional relationship we could develop.

The first thing we tried to do was see if we could get Ted a second pillow for when he is not in the living room. He's a big fan of sleeping since he is growing so much, and he does enjoy laying next to me while I write or surf the net, so we tried to use Maxim as a pillow. I don't think Ted appreciated the dumbing down through osmosis.



I thought maybe our relationship was getting off to a chilly start, so I figured I'd maybe try to break the ice with a drink. I guess Maxim isn't a big fan of tequila or margarita's. I enjoyed my frosty drink while Maxim looked at me unsatisfied and slightly bored. I guess I should be used to it.



I figured if I showed of my video game prowess Maxim would warm up to me a little bit. Without much doubt I shredded through "Beat It" in tribute to the fallen King of Pop. When I handed my axe over, Maxim sucked it up. So much for me being a guitar hero to save the encounter.



Since Maxim has been objectified and mistreated by men since it's been around, I figured I'd put Maxim in some demeaning situations to see how Maxim would react. Unfortunately dusting my PlayStation 3 (which I found to be poetic justice) proved to be another misstep in the afternoon. I guess my way with the Maxim's of the world has diminished since I've been married.



I figured maybe Maxim would like a more dignified job, like protecting my family and my house. I plastered Maxim across our security stop sign. I never though it would deter criminals from robbing our home, but now Maxim's distracting layout and oozing sex on paper could stop would be burglars from entering my humble abode. Alas, making criminals think twice about a life of crime was not what Maxim had in mind.



After this Maxim and I had words, and I attempted to forcibly get Maxim to clean George's cat box. As you can see, it was met with much resistance.



Maybe since Maxim is so beautiful on the outside, Maxim would be interested in hanging up next to some photographic art in our entry way. Maxim responded to this a little better, but for reasons my wife would be able to explain, I figured it would be better to try and find a more appropriate place to dwell.



And this is how we end. Parting is such sweet sorrow, Maxim. However, I know you'll be back in a month.

I'm okay with getting older.

(Now that you are done oogling at Megan Fox, let's get rolling).

Based on what has happened to my mailbox. Not so much to it as what has happened inside of it. I still play video games whenever I have time. I have all the major gaming systems of this generation, as they call it. I'm patiently biding my time until the new installment of NCAA Football comes out so I can start as a coach of meager means and rise to the top of gridiron glory, as I do every year.

I also subscribed to a gaming magazine, a subscription I kept for many years. At the start of 2009 Electronic Gaming Monthly became a casualty of the decline of print media and stopped publishing their rag. I figured I'd get a refund check. I figured wrong.

A few weeks ago I open up my mailbox at the end of my block to find a copy of something I haven't even seen since I was 22. I wasn't even sure if they still put the damn thing out. Maxim appeared and I didn't know why. I remember it had samples of cheap teen boy cologne and pictures of mostly naked women I could subscribe to Playboy and see without the tease, if I really wanted. The magazine always appeared to be a bit of a jerk off to me.

Now I am older and wiser. Ok, not really but I still know good writing from writing that I hope when the human race is centuries long gone that archaeologists from far off planets do not discover, only to deduce that this was the pinnacle of our journalistic endeavors.

I still page through it before I toss it in our recycling bin (yes I know, how snobbish using a recycling bin rather than the trash) for some laughs. This month, Maxim tears apart the 2010 Chevrolet Camaro versus the 2010 Ford Mustang. Two cars I would be interested reading about in Car & Driver or Motor Trend.

Of course, Maxim has nary an automobile expert, so they rely on women of N.Y.C. most likely displaying the pictures in the magazine gauging the quotes. "The Camaro looks classier. But red's pretty arrogant. And I'd really prefer if it were a Bentley." - Hannah, 22.

Thank you, Hannah. I always wondered if gallivanting around in a red Camaro, and American classic, was arrogant up against say, a $400,000 Bentley.

If you are a casual watcher of television, like to come out of your parent's basement, or have your newest Megan Fox fan club mailer you are well aware of Michael Bay's latest abomination and spite against humanity, "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen." Now, every sensible critic I have read has panned the movie, because it wreaks of suck. Maxim, however, is treating it like Gosford Park 2.

Fox is placed in various degrees of degrading positions, actors will scream dialogue like you're at a Dane Cook concert (because just telling a joke isn't funny, unless you yell it out) and historic landmarks will be reduced to piles of rubble. I'm not even upset Michael Bay is perverting more classics from the 80's like I was after I walked out of the first live action Transformers, now it's boiled down to the fact this guy is still making movies. Did you know Maxim's publishing offices are nestled comfortably between the New York Times and the New York Public Library? Lock up your wife and kids.

I understand movies are supposed to be fun, make believe and an escape from our normal lives. But at what a price? Certainly I will keep my brain cells in tact for such cinematic seriousness like "The Hangover."

Lady Gaga is an abomination of Satan himself and Madonna. Her songs are second rate and her "out there" attitude makes me weep for kids thinking she is the definition of cool. Kids who will never discover The Replacements or The Minutemen and never truly understand what a true rebel in music is.

"I'm dressed conservatively today, I should take off my pants just to freak them out!" A woman threatening to take off their pants in a Morton's Steak House has never been so potentially boring. Bi-curious activity (when it's a "hot," lipstick lesbian type) sells to the Maxim reading community, because it's mentioned in every feature involving the women it interviews. I use that term loosely, obviously. "So we know your new album/movie/homemade porn is getting straight into the everyday life of impressionable teens and young adults around the world. So do you like to have sex with women?" This was probably a real question or has been one in Maxim's time. How do I figure? Because this was a question...

Maxim: Do you prefer sex with men or women?
Ms. Gaga: It depends of the guy or the girl. But I'm not discussing my sex life with you. I will say that I'd be a happy girl if I could make the whole world gay.

Edgy. Then gay people wouldn't have a gay identity, or be defined apart from straight people which isn't a bad thing according to a few gay friends, minus the whole government reserving marriage rights for wholesome straight people. I wonder, no wait, she clearly doesn't know what she is talking about. Bless her heart, she may have the gay community's best interests in mind, but I doubt it.

I like how in one breath she let's you know she does in fact, have sex with women. But she won't give you the details, which is what we seem to be wrapped up with as a society. Truth be told, if I did have to think about her with other women, I'd rather let my imagination do the walking. Fancy that, using my imagination.

Did you know that growing up in New Jersey gives you enough material to play psychotic roles as a hick in movies like "Black Snake Moan" and "Monster" like Christina Ricci? Time to place this in the bin and take a shower.