Don't Call Me Greedy

About a week ago, I was walking back from the bathroom at work and saw a co-worker talking to the receptionist who had a just received a big, beautiful bouquet of flowers.
I stopped of course to inquire who the flowers were for.
She explained how she had made a “friend” in the lobby. A gentleman, who worked one floor up, had sent her the flowers. The day before, he had sent her chocolate covered strawberries.
She said, “I don’t really know what to do. I’ve never had a guy court me like this before. It’s weird.”
I nodded in agreement, “Oh totally. I’m surprised if a guy even pays for dinner!”
“RIGHT?!” She exclaimed.

Meanwhile, our male coworker is standing there saying something to the tune of “really? That’s depressing.” Or some shit.

But $200 says that he’s NEVER sent a girl flowers or chocolates. Even to a girl that he WAS DATING.

Dating and relationships are weird things when you stay away from them, sit back, and look at them from afar.

While I’d had my fair share of dates and flings, in one month it’ll be one whole year since I’ve dated anyone seriously (as in, we acknowledge that we are, in fact, together.) After being in a relationship for close to two years, one year of non-dating is a long time. But honestly, I can’t imagine dating anyone for a while, at least not seriously.

It seems like all the people I know who are in some sort of serious, monogamous relationship have all kinds of weird issues. I’ll give three examples below.

1. The “Long Distance” Couple: Thousands of miles separate them which creates this bizarre form of romanticism that involves love letters and poems and songs and thoughts of longing. It’s also insanely impractical and can get tedious for friends who are constantly reminded of this insane pining and longing. Their life begins to resemble a film and, as an audience member, you can get tired of the plot pretty quickly.

2. The “Not-a-Couple” Couple: They’ve been together for months now, they are ALWAYS together, and they get along great in all aspects of their “relationship.” But that’s the thing; they aren’t IN a relationship. They may admit to dating, but they don’t refer to one another as a girlfriend or boyfriend. Even when they fight, it’s resolved quickly and painlessly and they go back to being the couple everyone wishes they were a part of, only this “couple” doesn’t really exist to the people included. It’s a living urban myth.

3. The “Old Married but Not” Couple: These two have been together so long, they live together. They act like they are legally bound to each other even though they aren’t. The man acts whipped, the woman acts uninterested, and you wonder why they live together outside of not wanting to sublet. They don’t discuss marriage, but all outsiders wonders if that’s the next step in this logical progression.

And this is just the tip of the “relationship wonders” iceberg.

I, myself, have had my own sordid history of relationships.

It seems that, in every “relationship” I’m in (whether we are dating, bf/gf, living together, or just fucking around) I am attracted to the dude in only ONE of two ways.

Either we connect mentally or we connect physically.

EVERY SINGLE GUY, I find myself attracted to physically OR mentally, but never both.

Here’s what happens:

A) The dude is a fox and the sex is great but when we try to talk it’s like pulling teeth and we have about as much in common as George Bush and Dennis Kucinich.

B) We talk nonstop and keep each other laughing and have the same taste in entertainment as well as political beliefs, yet he falls into friend land and while I can usually appreciate that he’s a decent looking dude, kissing him is like kissing my dad. Chaste and not meant to be anything more than a friendly hello.


Because of this awful history of mine and the fact that the relationships on my radar are barely relationships and more like odd situations, I’ve decided to give up on dating.

I mean, why do we look for everything in one person?
That’s like going to Kroger and expecting top quality products in ALL departments.
Sure the meat and baked goods might be great, but you know the produce is going to be shit.

So I’m going to diversify my dating like I currently diversify my shopping so that I can get the best quality on all fronts.

I will maintain awesome friendships with men who make me laugh and keep my mind stimulated.

I will maintain fuck buddy status with hot, sexy, stallion men who know how to please me and vice versa.

I’m going to hit up the produce store as well as the meat market on my weekly grocery trip.


So until I meet a man who mentally AND physically stimulates me, I’m going to maintain a harem that fulfill me in all the ways my greedy ass needs to be fulfilled. Mentally, emotionally, and physically.

Without the spark in the mind and the loins, what’s the point of dating and wasting time with one person when there are millions of others out there waiting to meet you?

Speaking of which, I’m currently looking for a new physical match.
All applicants accepted.
Please inquire within.

The Good Fight

From what I’ve been told, when the French realized they were smarter than Americans, they decided to exploit it and started bottling water and selling it to us. They called it Evian. Which obviously is NAÏVE spelled backwards. Some smarter Americans realized how dumb their fellow patriots were and decided to copy this and now, decades later, we are seeing a backlash to bottled water. But not the idea of bottled water. Simply the PLASTIC surrounded this water. Now people are willing to shell out even MORE money for water bottled in glass. And if you want to buy it in plastic, they have put a TAX on it. AND PEOPLE STILL BUY IT.

I don’t know about your house, but in my studio apartment I have not one, but TWO faucets that give me FREE WATER whenever I want. I don’t even have to get out of my pajamas!

What the hell is wrong with this country?

I’ve come to realize that Americans can be talked into just about everything. Especially if it has anything to do with another country. Because we are so ill informed of our OWN history (let alone the rest of the world) all other nations are seen as these mysterious places with all kinds of crazy things we don’t know about. And I admit, I have fallen prey to this before (but only when I let myself.)

Take last night for instance.

I was enjoying a night out, a rare occasion during the week. Even more rare was the fact that it was kinda sorta a date, which nobody goes on anymore (especially one where a dude pays. I know. Shocking!) So because I feel guilty when anyone buys me anything, and because I LOVE SWEET THINGS, I decided we should get dessert, my treat (PUN INTENDED.)

I knew of this weird dessert place with a name I can’t pronounce. It’s the only one in the city (maybe the whole state/region - 1) and I’ve been inside and had samples before but never ordered anything. Basically, it’s this weird Belgian waffle made out of dough, not batter, which apparently is better (2). It’s made with this “crystallized sugar” that “explodes” all over the waffle and apparently no one else in America has this sugar (3). Then he offers gelato on top. And apparently, this gelato is REAL gelato and all the other gelato in America is fake (4). Then he says we should get the works, which include whipped cream imported from Belgium (5) with what look like jimmies/sprinkles but apparently are much much more and taste like dark chocolate because he gave us a sample (6). Then he offered us some peach iced tea imported from Italy that apparently tastes “like silk” (7) whatever the fuck that even means. Even my date looked at me like “ugh, what the fuck does silk taste like? It’s made from worms.”

So with 7 attempts to persuade me, and the fact that I didn’t give a fuck at that point, I gave in and got it all.
ALL FOURTEEN DOLLARS WORTH.

The damn waffle wasn’t even as big as two decks of cards placed next to each other. And honestly, that whipped cream and “jimmies” could have been cool whip and hershey’s chocolate chips as far as my taste buds could tell. I mean, sure it was delicious and the tea was pretty smooth (like silk?) but FOURTEEN GOD DAMNED DOLLARS?! The clerk mentioned we could “pay in euros” and that it would only be 7 Euros. Well fuck, why am I not just IN Europe? Bet it’s only 3 Euro’s there!

But I’m not the only one who gets fooled into spending more money. America LOVES to spend money on shit they don’t need. It’s why we once were the richest country and now we are the country with the biggest debt.

Here are a few things I’ve noticed that Americans are NOTORIOUS for wasting their time and money on:

1. Infomercials – only in America could something so stupid be so successful. People will invent anything (or basically take something we have, put some colored plastic around it, and sell it again) and people will BUY IT. Throw in a few “doctors” in white coats and some “normal folks” who tell their success stories and BAM. You’re rolling in the money. Perhaps it’s because it’s the only thing on at 3 am and most of this country suffers from insomnia but while insomnia is something we can’t control, using our credit cards over the phone should be within our hands.

2. SUVs – While the price of oil rises and the cost of a gallon of gasoline has DOUBLED in the past 2 years, somehow people still buy these death machines. Remember the “wider is better” campaign? Can you believe people bought that shit? With all the rollovers and wasteful MPGs, I still see more of these than anything else on the road. Usually with one lonely person inside this vehicle that has more square footage than some studios in Manhattan. I’m not sure what sort of trick causes people to buy these but I’m under the impression that they are simply the new corvette for men with tiny dicks.

3. Starbucks/Caribou/$4 coffee – I drink coffee very rarely. Usually when I’m ether hungover or still drunk. I also drink it black as hell and usually from a shitty diner where it’s barely a dollar for a bottomless cup. But somehow, a little company from Seattle threw in some Italian words that nobody could understand up on the menu board and suddenly they have so much money they can afford to give their employees insurance (I know, in AMERICA.) The coffee isn’t good, it’s not healthy, and Dunkin Donuts is way better for $1.50. But just because your neighbor and your boss and your mom are walking around with that green and white cup, you fall victim too.

America is a nation of blind followers, at least since the end of the 60’s. Sure there are a bunch of war protestors and the green movement that goes “against the grain” but the ones who really are fighting the system are seen as heretics and crazies by a society that has been brainwashed to believe that. Talk about propaganda.

I try to think of myself as not affected by advertising and foolish politicos and the like. But sometimes you gotta pick your battles. You can’t always be the hero and the only way to “win” in this war is to live on a farm like the Amish and support yourself. And even THEY ride trains to come to the city to buy supplies like kerosene and fabric nowadays.

And last night I didn’t feel like fighting.
Sometimes chocolate is the ultimate peacemaker.
Too bad it wasn't Swiss.

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

If you couldn’t tell by now, I ride a bicycle.
Not only does it save TONS of money and gets me places faster than public transportation and cars most of the time, but it’s also a pretty good cardio workout and will wake you up faster in the morning than a cup of coffee (without the side effects of caffeine.)

If I meet someone who doesn’t own a bike and relies on the CTA, I will try and talk them into buying one.
If I meet someone who owns a CAR and doesn’t own a bike, I will give them shit until they breakdown and buy one.

But because I am a total snob, I’m not even satisfied with people who own bikes.
I have a laundry list of things that piss me off about fellow “cyclists”.

We’ll start with the basic:

RIDE YOUR BIKE – ok, so you spent the $50-$2000 on a new bike. I know it’s pretty and shiny in your trunk and you would hate to get it dirty but maybe you should think about climbing on the damn thing and testing out those pedals.

WEAR A HELMET – These things cost what? $30? How much does a trip in an ambulance cost? $300? You decide. I honestly know so many people, people who ride EVERY DAMN DAY that don’t have helmets. They claim they have been meaning to get one. Yet somehow, every week they come home from the shop with a new component and no helmet. Guess they just ran out. Silly bike shops.

SIGNAL – I know that only about 2% of the cars on the road use their signals at all and I admit, I don’t use it all the time either (3 am on a side road, no cars, who cares.) But in the presence of other cars at nasty intersections, I find that YES I do have the time to throw one hand either to the right or left to say “hey 2000 pound killing machine, I am going to be turning left and not going straight so please stop and don’t ram into me.” Not only can you earn a tiny bit of respect from a car driver, but you might just save your ass from some serious road burn.

RIDE ON THE STREET – I know sometimes, riding your cruiser with coaster brakes makes you feel like you are 8 years old again and sometimes you ring your little bell on your handlebars to look cute but GET OFF THE FUCKING SIDEWALK. You are old enough to know better (and know it’s AGAINST THE LAW – in this city at least.) Not only do you piss off people who are walking on the sidewalk, but you are giving cars the impression that what you are doing is totally normal and then the drivers of these SUVs start yelling things at me like “GET ON THE SIDEWALK”. So GET OFF!

STOP WHEN THE LAW SAYS SO – I run red lights and stop signs. I admit it. But I always slow down and stop, look both ways, and THEN proceed. I know some people loved the game Frogger so much that they want to recreate it everyday in their life but hey, he had like 4 lives for a reason. You don’t.

And the more picky:

QUIT CUTTING YOUR BARS – listen up boys, I don’t care how much street cred you think you are getting by cutting down your handlbars until they are little more than 2 inch sticks but here’s the deal = IT LOOKS FUCKING STUPID. There is no practical use to these. It’s not easier to turn or accelerate. You just look like a moron. Why don’t you just stick a steering wheel on your stem? It would probably be more useful and still get you cred.

TAKE OFF THE SPANDEX – I can understand that some people use bikes for racing, whether it be on a track or on a designated course. But unless you have a number on your back, this ain’t the fucking Tour de France. You are on a city street with cars and people on mountain bikes. And I’ll let this rule slide in the rain or snow (as some of these spandex-looking pants are actually insulated and windproof) but barring the weather, you just look like a dick who has too much money. (EDIT: people who are training for said races get a waiver but not if they are training down Michigan Ave. FIND A TRAIL.)

AERO BARS ARE POINTLESS – this goes in the same vein as the spandex loving roadies. Outside of a track or designated race course, why do you need aero bars? You’re gonna hit a stop sign or light every 2 blocks so when are you going to have to get in a position where you need to minimize the wind resistance. You look like a fool.

FIXED GEAR? USE CLIPS AND STRAPS – I see so many idiots these days with fixed gear bikes that have no brakes and platform pedals. How do you stop? Please, provide a demonstration that doesn’t involve skidding your feet on the ground like Fred Flinstone or simply running into an object. Get some clips and straps for your pedals, buy a front brake, and get that helmet on your head. I swear, these fucking kids today.

BIKE ALL YEAR ROUND – nothing gets my goat more than fair weather riders. They are the reason I have 9/10 of these gripes. Because they only ride 3-4 months out of the year, they have NO idea what they are doing. Sure, getting back in the saddle is easy and remembering how to ride is like…riding a bike…but just because you can pedal and use a brake doesn’t mean you know jack shit about riding in the city. Sure, I was a newbie once. But after three winters, I think I know a thing or too. So while I’m busting my ass and bundling up and getting hit in the face with salt for 6 months (love Chicago), you think you can just get out once 65 degree weather hits and take up my bike lane swerving around like a moron. Sorry buddy. If you can afford a $1500 road bike, you can afford a balaclava and some lobster gloves. Be a cyclist or don’t. I’m sick of the half assers.


Obviously, some of these are more about safety and some of them are just me being a jackass.

And I’m just getting started.
Wait until you hear me rant about those people in cars.
To be continued!

A Sunday Statue

I didn’t get drunk until I was 18 and a half years old.
And I didn’t get wasted and black out and puke and fall down a flight of stairs. It was New Years Eve and a friend of mine took me under her wing, got me a bit toasted, sobered me up with water and bread, got me toasted again, and then made sure I drank a lot of water and ate more before I fell asleep. I awoke with no hangover, only memories of one of the best nights I’d had up until that point.
This probably has contributed to the fact that I still to this day love alcohol (although I have blacked out, puked, and fallen down stairs since then.)

But because I started so late in life, and was still living at my parents home, I didn’t really start drinking (and getting in trouble) until I was 21 and really had no excuse.

For example, a month of so ago, I was in the burbs, near my parents house, when I decided it would be a good idea to ONLY drink shots all night.
This resulted in me showing up at my parents house at 1am drunker than I’ve ever been in my life, completely blacked out with no memory, and puking/laying in my sisters bed all day watching a True Life marathon on MTV (ironically enough, True Life: I’m an Alcoholic, never aired.)
My mom was worried I was an alcoholic, while my dad just laughed and laughed.
He told me, “See, if you would have done this when you were 16, I would have had to yell at you. But you didn’t. And now that you are 22, I can just laugh at you.”

Yet if you don’t personally know an underage drunk person, I find that it is entirely appropriate to laugh and not discipline.

Case in point:

This past weekend, I was in a town I’ve never been in before. One that was a nice hour long train ride from my beloved city. I arrived very early and was going to catch a 1pm train to make sure I got back to the city fairly early as well. Since I’m entirely paranoid about missing a train, I like to arrive at the station a good 20-25 minutes early. Can never be sure you won’t be late getting a flat tire, car runs out of gas or perhaps getting caught by a train.

Since we were so early, we sat in the car, staring at the platform. I figured we’d just chit chat for the 20 minutes before the scheduled arrival of the train.
Little did I know we were unknowingly the audience to some awesome train platform theater involving two drunk teenagers, their sober friend, and the mother of drunk boy #1.

Basically, we see these four people get out of an SUV that was still running.
The two boys (Drunk Boy #1 and Drunk Boy #2 – DB1 and DB2) were both dressed in brightly colored hoodies and DB1 had what appeared to be mardi gras or raver necklaces around his neck. DB1 was drinking out of a water bottle (I hope it was water) and doing his best to stand straight. DB2 appeared unfazed and we assumed he was sober. The friend, a girl, was carrying at least 4 shopping bags and the mom of DB1 was trying to help her son stand up straight.

At first, all seemed well. They were simply standing there, apparently waiting for the train. Then DB1 got loose from his mom and started stumbling around, waving his hands around and saying something we couldn’t hear because our windows were up because it was about 35 degrees out and DB1 wasn’t wearing a jacket.

He started getting dangerously close to the edge of the platform and DB2 would catch him. We finally opened the windows at this point as DB1 started slurring loud enough to hear through glass.

DB2: “HEY! This is the women who gave birth to you!”

I guess somebody was disrespecting their mama.

Then they disappeared around a corner and we were left to wonder what they were doing.
As we watched a man and his three young daughters turn the corner, we worried for their safety.

Suddenly, DB2 comes back around the corner.
Up until this point, we had assumed he was sober.
He wasn’t weaving around, he wasn’t loudly slurring. Hell, he’d been telling DB1 to love his mama. That’s a sort of clear headed thing to say.
DB2 is now leaning against the wall of the station and not looking so sober.

Suddenly, he’s puking.

And it wasn’t like a bend over, grab your thighs, back arching kind of violent hurl.
It was a standing up straight, purse your lips, and turn your body into a PUKE FOUNTAIN kind of vomit experience.

I sat there with my companion staring and repeating the phrase “I KNOW I SHOULDN’T BE WATCHING THIS BUT I CAN’T STOP!”

It was pure liquid, not a chunk of food to be seen. He stood there, letting this liquid flow of out his mouth in a perfect arc towards the ground. He could have been a statue in a park. I could picture children laughing and running underneath, splashing around in his bile.

He eventually stopped right as DB1, mom and friend came around the corner. They stood about 10 feet from the puddle of puke and at this point, BOTH boys were needing some support. DB1 clutched his mom and DB2 found comfort in a bike rack.

As they stood there talking about god knows what, DB1 started kissing his mom on the cheek a little TOO long for me to sit comfortably.

At the same time, a man started walking towards them. And he was headed towards the vomit. And he wasn’t stopping or jumping over or doing a tippy toe dance.

HE WALKED RIGHT IN IT!

Suddenly, I heard the train. I got out of the car, stayed as FAR AWAY from those freaks as possible, and climbed in. Luckily, the drunk boys were not in the same car as me. I pity those who had to sit near them.

The whole situation, while visually hilarious, was even more hilarious when you thought about the details of the situation.
These boys were obviously underage and drunk. That part is normal. It’s easy to score booze when underage.
But they were with their mother. HUH?!
And it was 12:30 in the afternoon.
ON A SUNDAY.

There’s no way, if you started drinking on Saturday night, that by NOON on a Sunday, you would still be awake, let alone still drunk (especially when you’re 17.)
So we sat and came to the conclusion that they had started drinking at 7am. On a Sunday.
But then we remembered the mardi gras beads and became even more confused.
And who was the female friend with the shopping bags? Were they drinking at a trunk show?

It made no sense at all (let alone the statue fountain of puke.)

Moral of the story: Don’t drink until you are of age. And if you do, make sure you have an older and WISER friend with ya to sober you up and prevent the kind of theater that belongs off-off broadway and not in the mid-day sun on the Holy Day.

Life in a Cube

I did it. I gave in. I succumbed.

I have joined the cube life.

I spend 45 (yes I eat lunch in my cube) hours a week staring at a screen and 2 beige “walls” that are covered with papers I tacked up.
45 hours sitting and doing about 6 hours of total work.

Cube life is weird. Because it’s so much of your waking life, you have to find a way to enjoy yourself. This is why a show called The Office is so successful in not one but TWO countries. What may not be funny to most people, an office worker would find hilarious. Like the phrase “prairie dogging.” Usually referred to in the vulgar sense, it now means the instance in which someone in a cube farm does something loudly like drops the phone or knocks their chair over and everybody pops their heads up over their cube walls as if they were prairie dogs in a field coming out of their holes in the ground. The original meaning of the word is funnier but because our lives are as boring as the beige cubes we sit in, we must create something halfway decent to keep ourselves entertained as well as sane.

One thing everyone who ever gets a “real job” will come to learn is that in the corporate cube world, there is only about 2 hours a day (if you’re lucky) where there is actual work to be done.
I start at 8am. If I didn’t check my email or anything and simply did all my work straight through, I would be done by 10am. 10:30 LATEST (if the phones were really busy.)

So the majority of the time you are fucking around and trying to find something to do that makes it look like you are really busy. It’s a fun game to play especially since you are getting paid. The game mostly involved minimizing windows all day long every time you hear someone walk by. This game also includes the copying and pasting of articles you want to read online into an email – as if you would ever receive an email about NYC’S Fashion Week disasters. It’s basically a game of “how can I fuck around on the internet without ever looking at a browser”. The things we do in the name of boredom.

Another way to use some time is the reason why gyms exist.
Eating.
And drinking mass amounts of water.
Eating requires your hands and mouth, so you can’t possible type or take a phone call. This can waste up to 30 minutes per each item of food if you play it just right.
And not only does drinking tons of water clear up your skin, it also makes your bladder completely hyperactive. Nothing like wasting a few hours in the bathroom each day. Six times is about the max you can get away with without someone starting rumors that you have a UTI or an STD.

Bathrooms are also a great place to use a cell phone. If you haven’t already used up your 6 bathroom visits, why not use one to chat with a few buddies or schedule that doctors appointment? Although texting makes this almost obsolete, it’s still an oldy but goody.

Because there is a lot of time to waste, there is a lot of time to observe your surroundings and notice the curious behaviors of the 30-40 other people sitting in the same room with you. If you are allowed to play music, you will notice the awful tastes of everyone else and you will become convinced that you are the only person who doesn’t own a record released by someone on American Idol.

If you do a “lap” around the cubes (good for a stretch and more time wasting), you can notice even more oddities:

Such as the Cobbler – that girl (or sometimes dude) who has at least 6 pairs of shoes underneath his/her desk for all kinds of different occasions (flats, heels, rubber boots, tap shoes, whatever). Most notably are the running shoes they wear so that when they leave work they can literally run to catch the train (which is all of 2 blocks away.)

Then there is the Sunflower. This person eats sunflower seeds all day. And instead of using the garbage can at their feet or perhaps a coffee cup, they just spread a nice piece of paper towel on the counter and lay the shells there until they have their own little Mount Everest of spit-up seed shells.

Even when you are at your desk you are privy to a bevy of curious characters. These usually come when the phone rings:

First is the Talker. Or as I call him/her, My Dad. This person is in no rush to get off the phone (which could be a god send when you are bored.) They want to talk about the weather, TV last night, their childhood abuses, whatever they can to keep you on the phone. Try as you might to get them off the phone politely, they won’t have it. Always be sure to claim you are ill or must visit the lavatory to best throw off these chatterboxes.

The worst phone personality is the Heavy Breather. When they aren’t flapping their slack jaws at you, they are exhaling like they just ran a marathon. I’m not sure how close they hold the phone to their mouth, but you are pretty sure it is IN their mouth by the end of a conversation with the Heavy Breather.

Sometimes, you don’t even have to see anyone to be annoyed in a cube farm.

The most vindictive are the Popcorn Ladies.
Every afternoon, like clockwork, these ladies take a break and make a batch of microwave faux butter popcorn. And it smells the whole joint up. Even if you just had lunch, you want some popcorn. You could have just HAD popcorn and you want some more fucking popcorn.

But then again, after the Tuna Guy, who enjoys heavy tuna sandwiches as well as putting salmon in the microwave, the Popcorn Ladies are a joy to your olfactory senses.

As my time spent in a cube farm increases, I’m sure I’ll find more interesting characters. Some I’ve seen but have not yet had the time to fully absorb the full spectrum of their lunacy (like people who use speakerphone when they are one cube away from each other.)

Stay tuned.
This might just get better than The Office.
Yes, even the British one.