I Live in Terror of My Image

I was somewhat-happily typing away messages to a lady I had known in Delaware (for unknown reasons, romance is often falsely kindled by America Online software) when I saw a dear old friend emerge from offline. It was at this point that I made two mistakes - one minor, one extremely grave.

In my effort to double-click my friend's buddy name (a clever allusion to a musical group he enjoys), I accidentally double-clicked on Santa Claus, with whom I cannot claim more than passing connection. The window opened, and I barely saved myself from chatting up he who knows if I've been sleeping. A quick click and I was safely back on track to speak with my dear friend (no offense intended to Father Christmas, of course). That was my first mistake, and it was easily remedied.

The second mistake, however, proved much more fatal. I accidentally clicked on a green camera symbol next to the name of the Delaware lady, and suddenly was plunged into a face-to-face appearance that yielded results of which I am neither proud nor at privilege to speak. Suffice it to say that there was embarrassment on both sides, and an actual rekindlement of feelings previously merely professed for basic amusements. Inclusion of any more detail would cross into indecency. I am ashamed enough - question me no further.

The deadliness of this video communication cannot be overstressed. Like the atomic bomb and Olestra, this technology was best left in the minds of speculative-fiction writers and out of actual life.

How to Turn an Airpot Hottie into a Bedroom Hottie

The airport teems with hotties. It may be the only respectable location outside the baseball stadium where well-put-together ladies congregate for no apparent reason. Here are some tips for bagging that special someone fate put next to you on the plane:

-At the check-in desk, scan for hotties. If there is one nearby, listen to where she is going. If you are going to the same place, say in a bemused way, "Hey! We're going to the same place!" Do this even if you are not going to the same place. This should yield a smile if not some sort of boob-flash.

-At security, offer to help a hottie get her bags off the conveyor belt. Do NOT say "Hey baby let me get your bags off." Rather, reach for the handle of her suitcase just as she is going for it. Your hands will touch, she will give a start, then your eyes will meet. Movies show this kind of thing happening between high-school lab partners all the time. If it can work for John Cusack, it can work for you (words to live by).

-If your hottie is flying first-class, make sure to upgrade your ashy ass out of coach. Like Trina, this lady is "high maintenance." Do not be deterred, though. Use the $20 you were going to spend on Playboy and Wendy's to buy yourself a scotch and her a champagne.

-When they pass out the airline meals, offer to finish whatever your hottie doesn't eat. What better way to bond than over a shared dinner?

-Make sure everyone on the plane knows you are a big shot. If the person in front of you leans back their seat, kick it repeatedly and yell "What The Hell Are You Doing?! Your Seat Is Right In My Fucking Face!!!!" (true story). Ladies do not go for wimps; they go for alpha males. Get em, tiger.

-Tell plenty of scary stories about planes crashing. When you encounter turbulence, simply put your arm around her shaking shoulders and tell her "Everything is okay." Go for a feel. If she calls you on it, you can blame the "slip" on the turbulence. You gotta know if them jubs is real.

-If there is someone of Mid-Eastern origin on the flight, attack them with a wine key and accuse them of terrorism (Remember United 93?). Even though the assailee is definitely innocent of your accusations, no one will question your motives; these are patriotic times, you sly dog you.

-After the plane has touched down safely, say, "Well, looks like this is goodbye." Then "accidentally" run into your hottie at the baggage claim, offering to share a cab to her home. This always works.

Any of these techniques can work on its own, but in combinations, these moves are guaranteed sack-fillers. Booyah.

Brief Study in Socio-Linguistics

A: So I heard Jimmy's going to lawschool, and -

B: When you say "heard," do you really mean "read on facebook"?

A: Man you knew that's what I meant, why'd you have to call me out like that?

In which Google Images Illustrates Dialog Overheard in a Cafe

"Water is one of the only things in the world that will do this."



"It wants to be so friendly with itself"



"The question is how do I turn this around?"



"It's not a lot of money."



"I don't remember. I've had this notebook. I started meeting last summer."

Rejected Similes

In honor of the endearing Sunday Times Magazine trend piece about bands using Myspace. Reporter Clive Thompson states that when The Hold Steady made a Myspace,

curious fans were drawn in like iron filings to a magnet.

Other possible metaphors that are equally self-evident:

-Like electrons to a proton;
-Like the earth to anything that is denser than air;
-Like siamese twins in the womb.

At least use food, because it is not self-evident and people will be stricken with a new idea for something to eat:

-Like slices of bacon to a plate of scrambled eggs.

Look Back and Laugh

I saw this shirt, albeit with white lettering on green cotton, in front of a Lakewood, WA tavern known as the Green Pup.

I laughed at first at a man so silly and frivolous. His sunglasses were tinted purple like Bono's, and his jeans were so tight as to constrict his movements to a penguin-like walk.

After he passed, though, I had a moment to reflect. His shirt bore an odd familiarity, and I thought I'd caught faint traces of a familiar scent as he passed by. "Red Jeans" by Gianni Versace. Portia! The lying minx had gotten her vixen together behind my back, and with a lowlife metrosexual to boot. My eyes welled up with tears. My mind raced. I felt my pulse reach the Target Heart Rate Zone for cardiovascular exercise. The cheating bitch!

I should have known trouble was coming the day she bought that curious shirt. But how could I have? Worn by her, it was a mere passing joke, punctuated by a painful reminder that its humor was a cheap crackerjack, a fleeting moment's novelty that would soon pass. "Go ahead and laugh / This is [merely] your girlfriend's shirt [and this joke will soon wear thin]." If only I'd known that such malice had been nurtured in Portia's heart. The very premeditation of the act made it the most sick. So I endeavored to hurt her in kind.

I'm Gonna Git You Sucka

Have you ever imagined a vampire movie where the vampire can't find anyone to prey on because he/she is worried about consuming the blood of questionable purity?

Movies, like, are like vampires, right? They don't exist. Or so you thought.

Discuss.