Category: Random

Three months ago I went out on a date with a woman I’ll call Redacted. She’s a sweet gal, and pretty, and we had a pleasant two-hour conversation. But there were no sparks. Afterwards she sent me an email:

hey,

thanks again for meeting up with me last night, i had a great time.  🙂   and got some studying done afterwards.  🙂

redacted

And I replied:

Hey Red,

Thanks for coming all the way outside to hang out. It’s fun out here, isn’t it?

m

(I was teasing her because she claims she never goes outside anymore thanks to med school; she even lives in housing attached to the hospital.) To me, the simple exchange didn’t indicate any interest in continuing the correspondence on either of our parts. I thought that was that and I forgot about her.

But three weeks later, she writes me the following:

hey matt,

i’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner – i had a huge test last friday and it basically took up my life.  but i was glad to meet you for drinks and experience the Real World.  🙂

anyways… a while ago a longtime friend of mine told me he had feelings for me and i decided a couple days ago to see where it could go…  would you want to still be friends?  (i understand completely if you don’t!)

i hope you’re well,
redacted

Um, what? At that point, being friends would have been a step UP in intimacy.

But seriously, how adorable. I told her no worries and good luck with your budding romance.

Then I curled up in bed and cried myself to sleep.

Do you see anything odd about this picture?

After work recently I was waiting for the 6 train on the southbound platform at 23rd and Park–our office’s corner–and noticed the special placement of our publication. There we were in a display case along with 27 "urban" magazines. (By the time I took this pic, the top row had been replaced with "nonurban" "chick" mags.) Look closely and you’ll see, right between Sister 2 Sister and Straight Stuntin, the December issue of Psychology Today.

All I can say to the Jezebel commenter who once called us "gangs of ex-sorority sisters slash liberal arts majors sitting around a conference table jacked up on lattes and ambien putting out a monthly on mental health issues," look who’s street now bitch.

A while ago I was wandering through a beauty supply store at the mall–killing time before a movie, mind you–and in the men’s section I came across something that made me rethink humanity: Hummer Eau de toilette. Yes, Hummer. As in the SUV. Regaining composure, I imagined a base of transmission fluid, with hints of rubber. But no, it smelled like real cologne. With a Hummer logo slapped on the bottle. Awesome.

Ok I can maybe see dudes getting carried away with their mechanical penile extensions. Buying Hummer fragrance, Hummer hemorrhoidal cream, Hummer mac and cheese. But then on the next shelf I spotted… Hummer body wash? Shitballs. Please read the product description with me:

The essence of adventure is captured in a body wash for those who aren’t content to simply watch the world go by. HUMMER body wash is a fresh, exhilarating scent that blends organic essences of the natural world such as sandalwood and leather with exotic spices like cardamom and amber for a truly masculine adrenaline rush that can only be called HUMMER.

Nice. I really want to know who grossly miscalculated the Venn diagram on this target demographic. "Ok team, we want to reach that hordes of men who A.) buy Hummers, and B.) use body wash. Oh, and they have to know what the fuck cardamom is."

(Was Klosterman involved in this scheme?)

But to drivers who actually do sit in that Venn sliver, I only have this to say: Save the planet and get yourself a fucking beard instead.

This month Fortune magazine produced a retrospective on the cubicle (née the "Action Office.") Here’s the lead:

Robert Oppenheimer agonized over building the A-bomb. Alfred Nobel got queasy about creating dynamite. Robert Propst invented nothing so destructive. Yet before he died in 2000, he lamented his unwitting contribution to what he called "monolithic insanity."

Oh, come now. Without nuclear weapons, we wouldn’t have had Miss Atomic Bomb. Without dynamite, how would we remember Jimmie Walker? And, no cubicles, no Office Space. Important contributions, all.

Abstract expressionism, on the other hand, deserves another look. I believe Jackson Pollock’s last words were "My bad." The man had a point.

Yesterday the Times ran an interview with a young woman (Jasmine Long) from Jersey City who was training an actress to play her in a movie. Here is how the interview ended:

Long: "We smoke black dust. That’s embalming fluid. So you drink milk with it ’cause, you know, later, for your stomach."

Right. We all know what smoking embalming fluid does to you stomach. And if you don’t know how milk will clear that right up, you don’t deserve to be reading the Times.

So I went to the huge San Diego County Fair on Saturday. Several notable sights.

Near Kiddieland I discovered Bible Story Castle sitting next to an Army recruitment station. Of course I made a snotty comment to my friend about locating Brain Wash Central. That’s when I noticed several Army personnel doing recruitment of a different sort. Yep, three soldiers engaging two Hooters girls right in front of the Bible Story Castle. Unfortunately none of my pics captured big Mr. Beret there actually FLEXING HIS MUSCLES for the young lasses. My Lord.

I also saw two of the nine surviving Munchkins from "The Wizard of Oz": Margaret Pellegrini and Clarence Swensen. (The picture deceives because they’re standing next to other short people.) Swenson failed to use his soldier uniform to the same effect as the gents noted above.

Next we watched the monster truck show, which improbably featured the 2005 Freestyle World Champion "Bounty Hunter" in the same competition as a 15-year old kid. Outside I discovered a display monster truck sponsored by Ecology Auto Parts that had appropriately, and likely without ironic intent, been named "Ecology’s Eliminator."

Then I married a robotic chick.

Finally, getting on the Ferris wheel, I spotted an odd sticker. Powered by NASA technology? No wonder the ride was so frickin’ expensive.

So I was reading my horoscopes today on My Yahoo!…

Your Daily Aries Forecast

Quickie: Cooking can be a creative and romantic way to express yourself. So what are you waiting for? Put on that apron!

Overview: Hel-LO, romance! If you don’t have a hot date for tonight, find one immediately. Think way, way outside the box when planning your evening — like demolition derby rather than dinner and a movie.

Nice synergy, but with one apparent glaring contradiction. Cooking but no dinner. Hmmmm…. let’s review.

Quickie:
Romance: good.
Creativity: good.
Cooking: good.

Overview:
Romance: good.
Creativity: good.
Dinner: bad.
Demolition: good.

Are my horoscopes telling me to COOK UP EXPLOSIVES? AS A DATE?!
(I wonder if Karen Marcelo is in town tonight…)

Oh, wait, the horoscopes go on:

Daily extended (by Astrology.com)
You’re faced with an almost impossible choice. It’s akin to being told you can have ice cream or cake for the rest of your life — but not both. When you’re faced with equal (yet different) kinds of lusciousness, what do you do? Well, first you cackle with glee at your embarrassingly fabulous situation. Next, keep your own counsel. The wisest thing to do in this case is to get very quiet, and see what advice your own heart gives you.

So it’s true… I get to wear an apron AND blow shit up! BUT, I must keep in mind: When finished cackling, keep quiet and, if it comes to it, obtain counsel.