Moving In and Checking Out

Had this little thought while walking on the beach in Punta Cana a little while ago that feels like a long while ago. I'm sure it's most likely not very original and has probably been done much more successfully by someone other than me (or is that I?), but I'll give it a shot in the interest of having something to write about if nothing else.

Relationships are freaking hard.

"Duh" you say? Hold on to your horses because I am actually going somewhere with this one and not because I am in the midst of any revelatory relationship crossroads or other such zentastic juncture in my existence. Maybe it's from watching the fairly long term marriages of people close to me (3 I can think of off the top of my head) completely disintegrate. Maybe I'm just a midge more melodramatically melancholic than someone in his mid thirties really ought to be but, who's keeping track?

There are a lot of things going on at any given time in a relationship of any kind, but more specifically in the 'romantic realm' between men/women, men/men, women/women, Richard Gere/hamster, Michael Hutchence/David Carradine/leather belt, or whatever other variation there may be. There are issues of interest, shared space, personal space, trust, respect, and in the "digital age" (does that make me sound gregariously grandfatherly enough?) there's always the lecherously lurking possibility of some extra-relationship MySpace mischief, Facebook philandering, or sexting/textual intercourse creeping in. As if having to worry about your partner becoming interested in a "real person" wasn't bad enough, now the utterly ugly possibility of them finding 'virtual love' makes things that much stickier. The fact that most peoples' online profiles are about 5% reality and 95% wishful thinking doesn't seem to matter much in some people's quest to be "happy" or, at very least, to find some distraction from what Wordsworth described as the "dreary intercourse of daily life".

Not that I don't understand the desire to have a little fantasy along with your Frosted Flakes, whether it be Tony the Tiger or Tina the Tigress is entirely up to your discretion but, there are lines that need to be respected in order to prevent the Nuclear Family from reaching critical mass and turning into Chernobyl II overnight. Maybe those lines have become maddeningly murky since most people don't consider texting (and to some extent email) to be 'serious' conversation, or maybe we foolheartedly feign stupidity to help us minimize and rationalize what we would otherwise characterize as a one of the most damningly dastardly deeds someone in a relationship could commit - cheating. Whether you do it with your body or your words, the knife cuts just as deep. If you're lucky the wound develops a scar and, while it is ugly to think about and look at, you can generally get on with your life pretty much the way it was before save for those fleeting moments you're drying off after a shower and catch a glimpse of that gimp gash out of the corner of your eye and feel like crap all over again.

Maybe it all starts before it even starts? It seems like we've done a really good job of teaching people how to be independent. This is a great thing since far too many people, women in particular, were thrown out into the cold after a relationship (generally a marriage) ended badly and they were left with no job, no money, no credit history or references and no idea of how to get any of the above. Men have generally always been taught to be independent, at work and at play, and now we've driven the same message home for women but, somewhere along the line amidst all this talk and teach about 'standing on your own two feet', separate bank accounts, cars, sinks (which I actually kind of like), being prepared 'just in case', and so on; we've forgotten to talk about being interdependent, about finding that shoulder you can lean on, about giving yourself to someone else wholly and completely instead of piecewise and halfheartedly, we've forgotten to talk about Trust. I think (maybe I do that more than I should) that if someone really places a value on trust, on the trust someone bestows upon them and the trust they've reciprocated with, it becomes exceptionally difficult to toss it out with the trash when Boy/Girlfriend version 2.0 comes along. Maybe it's always been this way but, it seems that like diapers, toilet brushes, and so many other things Trust has become a disposable commodity.

This all begs the questions: does all the preparation someone is doing 'just in case' their partner decides to leave them become a self-fulfilling prophecy? and, can anyone ever really move in when they're already emotionally prepared to check out?

It's not a question I have the answer to but, I hope someone figures it out real soon. Maybe that Jesus, Yaweh, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Ron Jeremy - dude might have something to say.

You never know.

"Here we go again..." or "They Day I Invited Big Brother in For Good"

It's been almost a year since my last blog post and here I am again seeking more punishment and/or approval from the limited number of people who:

a) know this blog exists
and
b) actually take some time to read it and post a reply

My birthday is fast approaching (my 36th birthday to be exact) and here I sit like a lot of people these seemingly unfortunate days; jobless, painting my house, and creating a new Twitter account although for the life of me I don't know why.

Twitter is basically Facebook minus everything except the status updates. Brilliant! I wish I knew how to steal ideas so effortlessly, but I usually end up thinking "Nah, that'll just be stupid/pointless", but there's always someone to prove me wrong and to make all the money I should have been making.

So now I can post a note to the world with every move I make. Some examples from the Twitter site are things like: "Susan's running late for her meeting", "John is watching the baseball game", "Kelly is going to the grocery store", "Francine just bought a huge freakin' dildo and can't stop smiling that little secret smile" all in an attempt to make people feel more 'connected' to me and vice versa. Because letting all the people in my life (and by 'people' I mean the people who are nosey enough and have enough free time to constantly receive updates) know every move I make during the day (and by 'move' I'm mostly referring to eating, reading, and then getting rid of things I've eaten sometimes while still reading since, on a percentage basis, those three things probably take up the biggest chunk of my time) I'll feel closer to them and they'll feel closer to me and the whole world will be a happier and better place for it.

To let them know what I'm doing in between all those blog posts, emails, and FB/MySpace updates that I used to post until I realized how much time it was taking up and how far behind work, chores, and LIFE I was falling.

Before I realized that it's more fun to have my 'Friends' over to my house and crack open a bottle of beer/wine/whiskey and update them on my status in person (depending on the number of children present, I can usually swear more and I don't feel so bad about it).

Before the novelty wore off and I finally realized I preferred seeing the expression on my friends' faces instead of any variation of :-)

Before I realized how disconnected and antisocial all this connectivity and social networking was making me feel.

This is truly the dawning of The Age of Aquarius my friends...no doubt about it.

I think the most telling thing about the people behind Twitter and their new Internet/social networking 'app' is that they chose to call it "Following".

Oh well, at least they didn't call it "Stalking", then I'd really be creeped out.

Gotta go now, haven't updated my status in awhile. Somebody's watching, I mean Following, I mean...er...waiting?

Eat your veggies. Your mother really does love you.

TTYL.

:-)

P.S. I made up that one about Francine above, but if you are Francine I think I have a few D batteries around here somewhere if you need them, but you probably bought the plug in kind, didn't you? you naughty little kitty ;-) MEE-YOW!

What are you thinking?

Ever wonder why you're doing what you're doing and even what exactly it is you're doing when you're doing what you're doing?

Ever wonder why you wonder?

That's probably the most collosal conundrum of them all.

I'm thinking that it's the thinking that gets our knickers in the proverbial knot rather than the actual thing itself that we're profoundly pondering. Around and around our minds we perpetually promulgate the same old ideas, thoughts, random musings, worries, insecurities, fears, likes, and dislikes until they manifest a "life of their own" so to speak...I mean, think.

But is it REALLY all that bad? Or are we just, for the most part, bored? Bored of doing the same old thing over and over again, going to the same chair in the same office day after day, talking to the same people, living with the same family, eating the same meals, sleeping on the same pillow, etc., etc. ad infinitum.

How much of the problem is "them" and how much of it is us?

Spice it up! Eat a jalepeno! Buy a new pillow! Do something with that boring old family that you haven't done before or done in a long time! Ask (firmly) you're husband/wife/goat to get into a new position 'cause you got some lovin' to do and that tired old "lay on your back and let me bestow my blessed pleasure upon you" crap just ain't gonna cut it tonight!

Do something different. Do lots of different things.

Quit your pondering and start performing.

You will be glad you did.

To Blog or not to Blog...ahh what the heck?

After a few of the comments I received related to the fecal fairy tales I've posted (only 2 really, and 1 that questioned the lack of handwashing afterwards), I've started to wonder why I write blogs and really, what is the point?

I think I write my blog for fun and to have a moment or two of creative realease in an otherwise busy-yet-boring workaday week we call life. I generally only ever write blogs while I'm at work, stealing five to ten mintues to usually write about something that has just happenned or an idea/phrase that struck me as funny just a few moments before. It breaks up the uninterrupted spreadsheets spooled in front of my eyes from 9 to 5 and I usually get back to work feeling happier and little more productive for the rest of the day. Most people who've read my writings seem to get a good chuckle or two (some have had much better, some much worse) but overall it seems to be a win-win-win situation for all invovled.

Taking a little step back I think that the blogs haven't been (at least for the most part) about the obvious subjects they're centered around (bathroom visits, avoiding work, installing a washingmachine, or faking things) but rather an examination of the strange and often funny behvior surrounding those events. The things people do when they don't really think anyone is paying attention or even when they know people are paying attention (myself included). I wouldn't go so far as to collectively call them a treatise on human behavior since that would be offending anyone who's actually ever written a treatise and affords too much importance on the trivial little paragraphs I've amateurishly strung together mostly for my own, sometimes for other peoples', amusement. They are an honest examination, as much as I can muster, of what I've seen and the way things have made me think on a day-to-day basis.

In the end I think a blog acts as a diary of sorts mainly because while they do convey some tidbits of information or 'facts', they are for the most part opinion-based and opinion-biased no matter how neutral anyone truly claims to be. That is the best we can hope to expect from blogs and most everything else in the world these days. There are much better blogs our there than mine and much worse for sure, but collectively, if you could include a large enough sampling of them, I think they act as one of the only really true snapshots of the human condition (of the affluent, computer-connected world at any rate).

That's my two cents, at least, and that's my blog.

"Poogasm" or "Another Kick at the Can"

Sorry to return to another detestable diatribe on defecation, but some things I just can't comprehend.

I understand fully the pleasurable pinnacle a person can obtain when the push-and-pinch provides a plethora of piquante relief hormones pulsating through a person's pipeline (pick a peck of pickled peppers 5 times fast).

I also understand how during that same superpowered sensation someone could squeak a sigh of satisfaction when surfing solo in the salle de bain (sick a seck of sickled seppers 5 times fast?).

What I fail to comprehend is what the people who exhale these exhortations think they're accomplishing, if anything, when they do it in the presence of proper persons in public?

The multi-orgasmic moans and musings emanating from their mouths following happy clappy flappy flatulence in their seemingly less than soundproof stall is digusting to the point that they may as well be copulating with a corpulant corpse for all I could care.

The juxtaposition of a joyous moan or grunt immediately proceeding presumptuous plumbing plugging poo pumping is just perplexing. Odd enough to make one want to garrulously giggle but, not wanting to be apprehended at all by the poo pusher, one has to use extraordinary sound stifling personal powers lest, Heaven help us, you be harrowingly had.

What's worse? Being lavishly loud while tooting to the tune of number two, or noticing someone else's excremental excitement?

I just don't know and there is the ridiculous rub of it all.

Today's blog is brought to you by the letters A, D, P, S, E, F, M, C, G, H, L, T, and R with minor sponsorship from the rest of the alphabet too.

LifeChat

LifeChatTM

What to Say to Get What You Want

Personal Interactions Edition

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(Also available: Business Interactions Edition, Kids Edition, Dealing With The Elderly Edition)

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Excerpt: Page 14 - Husband to Wife Communication: Butter Her Up

Sample starter script: "Honey, you are a strong, intelligent, independent, and beautiful woman. I am a million times blessed to know someone like you. Thank-you for being you. It would be an absolute honour if you would...(turn to Page 69 for action options)."

Excerpt: Page 69 - Interraction Action Options

Sample action script 23: "...provide oral pleasure to my male member."

Sample action script 36: "...toss my salad."

Sample action script 23: "spank me like a schoolboy. A naughty, naughty schoolboy."

(see Page 126 for Counter Objection Responses)

Excerpt: Page 126 - Counter Objection Responses

Sample counter scipt 325: "Yes, of course I will freshen up first."

(see Glossary for deinition of bolded terms)

Excerpt: Page B-23 - Glossary - Section F

Sample Glossary Term: "Freshen Up: To cleanse via bathing, showering, or washcloth generally with specific focus on malodorous regions including armpits, neck, feet, and genital region(s). In the case of washcloth use this activity is sometimes also referred to as 'Prostitute's Penance' or 'Hooker Wash'.

Hand Washing, Attentiveness, and Intelligence - Things People Fake

Ever wondered why people pretend the things they pretend? In some cases it makes sense (i.e., politicians - that should be self-explanatory), but most of the time it just kinda makes you scratch your head and wonder 'why?'.

Faking Attentiveness

This is probably the most understandable of the list of things people fake. It wouldn't do you much good if you decided to nod off for a nice nuzzly nap in the middle of an "important" staff meeting where your boss/supervisor/CEO is going to reassure everyone that they have absolutely no intention of laying off anymore employees or plans to close any offices in the immediate future.

As a word-to-the-wise everyone should realize that no one every really needs to make "plans" to close an office or layoff workers. They just show up at a "high level" meeting one day where someone asks aloud 'anyone got any ideas on how we can save a million or so in payroll?". Someone always invariably answers, 'well, we could close the Scranton office', they all mumble and nod, and that's that. The 'high level' meeting participants then proceed to pat each other on the back and give each other bonuses that total a little more than a million for their stellar work and ability to 'think out of the box', 'rightsize their operations', 'generate investor capital', yadda, yadda, yadda.

Other areas where faking attentiveness is somewhat understandable and/or necessary since not paying attention would cause disastrous distress levels in the people you're interacting with include:

a) childrens' school plays right up until and immediately after the 3 seconds your kid actually gets to walk around the stage pretending to be toothpaste or give the Virgin Mary a gift of Frankinsence that looks a lot like the empty box of RitzBits you put in the trash last week with a few cotton balls and paint slapped on as a disguise. The rest of the time you just gotta grin, say "oh yes, s/he's wonderful", and pretend to care as the other parents surrounding you extol the virtues of the existensial exuberance inherent in their son/daughter's protrayal of a tree, rock, or other such obtuse object.

b) while listening to your husband/wife/significant other babble on about some work-related crisis that really isn't more important to you than the Happy Days or Laverne and Shirley rerun you're trying to watch (The Fonz on a surfboard and still wearing his leather jacket...Go Fonzie! Go! Look out for that shark! Ahhh, Carmine, you singing fool, where are you now? Rags to riches and back to rags again, I presume.)

c) during sex when you might be thinking of the list of groceries you need to pick up on the way home from work tomorrow or trying to delay orgasm by thinking of baseball or your grandma's dentures that she accidentally left on the edge of the sink right before you had to go in for your morning visit that's gonna take at least 10 minutes (I still have the emotional scars from that one). You probably should at least appear to be interested in whichever of your partner's body part(s) are in contact with you at that moment. You may also want to try and make eye contact, but that depends entirely on your physical orientation and whether or not you've removed the gimp mask/blindfold/duct tape yet.

Faking Intelligence

This one is a bit of a grimy grey area to say the least. On the one hand people have successfully faked knowing something about something to the point where they make CEO. In that scenario, even if you royally screw up they'll still give you a multimillion dollar golden handshake on your way out the door so, really, who's the smarter one then?

Unless of course you get caught while you righteously rip off the masses and get sent to spend some time at the local penitentiary where everyone enters by the 'back door'...wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Mind you, depending on your personal procilivities, you might view it as an extended stay at Club Med or Hedonism - Prison Edition. You might get lucky and end up in the cell next to Martha's. She could let you know exactly what ointment you should use for that chafing that turned into a funny looking rash and how to make it from rhubarb and toothpaste...'it's a good thing'.

On the other hand, most people who fake intelligence don't have a hope in hell of making CEO or a clue where to begin so much so that they try to make themselves seem smart by using as many 'big words' as they can think of. For most however, the biggest words they can come up with are 'marmalade', 'authorized', or 'unaccepatable'. They particularly like that last word as anyone who's worked in any service capacity would know the phrase, "well that's just unacceptable" and recognize it as the last refuge of the terminally 'tarded twits who like to argue and complain about everything under the sun. I think one of the true measures of someone's lack of intelligence or just plain stupidity is to record how long they'll argue over a penny in the price of whatever it is they're buying. Once they break the one minute mark they should be allowed to put a handicap sign in their car, they need as much help as we can give them.

Faking Hand Washing

Now this is the one that causes me the greatest amount of conceptual constipation I've ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

Why? Why? Why?

I have witnessed, first hand, people using the restroom (usually while at work during my quarterly meeting with the Department of Wastewater Management - see previous blog for details) and only after they realize that someone else is in the restroom with them, they decide it necessary to give the impression that they are sanitary souls and fake washing their hands.

You, I, and anyone else would know they're faking because in the microsecond that they turn the tap water on/off there is no possible way that they could even get their hands off the tap and under the water to even accidentally dislodge a miniscule microspec of the microorganic mites dining on their digits.

Again

Why? Why? Why?

If you're going to take the time to turn the water on, why not get your hands wet, add some soap, give a little rub, rinse 'em clean, and dry 'em up? Would they rather walk around the rest of the day with the festering fecality of their brief restroom repose? Does it add spice to their dull leftover lunch? Did they pick out a particular peanut they wanted to give a second chew to? Lastly, who exactly are they trying to kid? I mean, come on, Ebola didn't spread on its own, you know.

My head is spurriously spinning due to the lack of logic so I'm going to shut my brain down for a while and get back to work. I have things that I pretend too, you know.