Alyssa's Cleavage Destroys Society

First of all, a very happy birthday to my lovely girlfriend Amanda! Yaay!

Hopefully this year will be better than last, when i dragged her out to a boxing ring in Janesville for a video shoot for Ed Wood Part 2, which she ended up not even needing to be at.

No, this year, we are heading to Chicago to see one of her favorite bands (hell, one of mine, too): Biffy Clyro.

This is our second time this year driving to Chicago to see them. Hell, they come all the way from Scotland; driving to Chicago is the least that we can do. Last year, we also saw them twice, over one weekend in March: once in Chicago, and once in Minneapolis.

Unfortunately, they didn't headline the shows last year. Had we known they would be doing headlining shows this year, i doubt we'd have made the trips last year at all. We were pretty thoroughly disappointed at their short 25 minute sets (7 songs in Minneapolis, only 6 in Chicago), almost as disappointed as we were with the Mall of America that we'd spent the day at (it sucks, unless you're into clothes for some reason). But we were still happy just to have seen Biffy; at the time, they didn't come to America very often. And for as short as their sets were, they were hella powerful. I'm bringing the word "hella" back.

So as we were hanging around the venue in Minneapolis (The Varsity Theatre; weird ass bathroom in that place), Alyssa started to notice an awful lot of people taking a gander at her boobs. This in itself is not unusual, but she reported to Amanda and i that it seemed like a disproportionately high number of people inspecting the goods. We wondered if Minneapolis had some kind of a tit shortage.

Biffy played, then some other band played, then the headliner came on: Manchester Orchestra. I'd never heard of them before. They seemed alright for a while, i was digging their sound. The crowd (and it was packed) was certainly into them. Even though i was halfway back from the stage, everyone around me was singing along and getting excited when their favorite songs were played and so on. There was a guy not far from me who kept updating a document in his Blackberry with the set list. I was cool with all that; i love cult bands. I love dedicated followings who genuinely enjoy everything a band does. I follow a number of cult bands myself. At the time, i thought i could see myself getting into Manchester Orchestra. At the time.

Midway through their set, the band took a break and frontman played a couple of acoustic songs. The first one, i was really enjoying...it had a great guitar riff driving it. Then he got to the chorus and all the pieces to the puzzle assembled like Voltron on a crucifix.

"Rejoice...in the name...of the Lord...!"

Wait what?

Suddenly i felt a little uncomfortable. If i hadn't been taping we might have just left then, but i'm pretty adamant about finishing a show once i've started. And they were alright otherwise. I enjoyed their music, but as the show wore on i started paying more attention to the lyrics and the...shall we say, strong Christian overtones. I'd looked them up before the show, i'd found no indication of this, nothing to indicate that they were a Christian band.

Let me make something clear here: i'm not knocking Christianity, per se, nor Christian music. There is an amount of Christian music i enjoy. A small amount, but it is there. But i also like rap music, and on the same token, i'm not going to go to a rap show. I would be awkward and uncomfortable mingling with the genre's largest demographic (namely, thugs). Similarly, i'm awkward and uncomfortable stuck in a large group of Christians who are out doing Christian things. It's just not for me.

After the show, Alyssa and Amanda came up to me (we don't typically stand together at shows, since i have to get farther back to record) and voiced their displeasure at how things had turned out.

"When i heard the words 'rejoice in the name of the Lord' i said to myself, 'THAT'S why everyone's staring at my cleavage!'" Alyssa said, slapping her hand over her pentacle necklace.

-Epilogue-
Now that i've had that thought, i'm going to need to go photoshop Voltron onto a crucifix.

Lefty Solo, Pearl Smuggler

I've got a suspicion that my mom sometimes reads my blog. So i'm going to go ahead and file this one under, "Things A Mother Should Not Know About Her Son." Not that this will deter her from reading it.

When i was in seventh grade, i sprained my right wrist. Funny thing is, now i can't even remember how that happened. All i know is that this spurious sprain would forever alter one of my most basic hobbies/habits: i started masturbating with my left hand. At first it was awkward, of course, but since i had the advantage of growing up in the Internet Age (very early in the Internet Age, but in it nonetheless; this was about 1997 or '98, and i'd say that even though it had been around for a few decades, the Internet didn't really catch on until '95ish), i soon realized that this was an advantage. It leaves the right hand free to operate the mouse.

A group of my friends and i had a long-running inside joke about inventing a one-handed keyboard for this purpose. It wouldn't necessarily have to be left-handed.

So, far into the future, on one of those crazy high school nights, i found myself at a forensics meet in a far-off land (by "far-off land" i mean the next town over, about four miles out). As i returned from delivering my prose, i happened into a conversation between two of my contemporaries just in time to hear one of them accusing the other of spending a large amount of time with his right hand, or something to that effect.

I broke in, "Dammit, am i the only guy who uses his left hand to masturbate?"

My friend Abby, herself just walking into the conversation in time to hear my contribution, inquired: "Well, are you left-handed?"

"No," i answered.

Then, right in the middle of this foreign lunchroom, she shouted out, "YOU IDIOT! You've been doing it WRONG! You need to use your right hand to get MORE POWER!!"

Black Friday

Frankly, i'm rather surprised that more people haven't made that connection.

I am, of course, talking about this post's title, as it is a reference to Rebecca Black's horrendous monstrosity and crime against music (or, in a broader sense, ears), Friday. If you've spent the last few weeks in solitary confinement or don't have internet access, by all means, watch this thing on YouTube. In fact, it's gotten so bad that if you go to YouTube and simply type "r" in the search field, this is the first result. At the time of this writing, it has 89,654,549 fucking views. In the perspective of how many views the average YouTube video gets, that is several veritable assloads.

When this pile of crap was first thrust upon me by my sadistic, evil associate Christi (also known as "Satan" or "Beelzebub"), my reaction was that it was so horrible i couldn't even joke about it. It's an assault against all that was good and holy.

From my Facebook, March 19, 2011:

I've long held that One Of Us by Joan Osborn was the worst song in the history of recorded music. Then Train released Hey Soul Sister and i had to reassess that belief. But it turns out neither of those is really that bad. Because it turns out this was not a joke: (link)

I could write an entire thesis about why this song is awful.

And i probably will. Because dear god, there is so much wrong here. So. Much.

I kept waiting for it to turn out to be a joke, like Lonely Island was going to pop out of the background or something, but it was like waiting for a punchline that never came.

i mean, "We we we so excited." REALLY?

Ark Studios must be destroyed with fire.

That was the original post, plus five comments i made within two minutes. I wish i had saved the chat window from the conversation i had with Christi/Satan while i was watching it. I kept posting my thoughts as the video dragged through its duration, MST3K-style. Stuff like, "Jesus Christ, is that USHER?!?!" I was too angry to be witty.

After that, i went home and showed it to Amanda. That's when i started laughing, because i was watching her face while she watched it. From there, i started showing it to other friends, and by the end of the day, i was responsible for five of the (at the time) 30 million views.

In short, Friday has become the new 2 Girls 1 Cup. You show it to your friends to get reactions, and their reactions are hilarious. So while The Onion's article about Rebecca Black getting rich off of our hatred for her had initially just made me angrier, i've come to grips with it.

In fact, i believe that she deserves every dollar she makes off of that video. Because frankly, there are comedians and comedy movie makers who have made far more money off of things that have not made me laugh nearly this hard. While the music itself is shit, and the video itself is shit, the spirit of the thing is so god damned funny that i just keep making jokes about it, and hearing jokes about it, and laughing so hard that sometimes, i excrete urine.

Plus, stuff like this parody happens, and you just couldn't have that without the original.

So i want to say thank you, Rebecca Black, for making life a little more surreal and a little more lighthearted and funny. Now if you could just stop taking yourself so seriously, we'd be golden.

Thanks for the laughs, Rebecca! Let's not ruin it by making another song, huh?

Semi-Public Nudity

I apparently have a problem with public nudity.

This might come as a shock to many who know or have known me, particularly while drunk.

Amanda and i got out to the gym far later than usual on Sunday night. It was actually about 2am Monday when we walked in. There was exactly one car in the parking lot. There were exactly zero people using the equipment as we trod into the locker rooms. And so i said to myself, thank god! There will definitely not be any naked old men standing in the middle of the room, facing one another with arms crossed, talking about what the fuck ever it is that naked old men talk about while naked and in locker rooms.

So, when we finished our workout around 3:30, there were a few more people starting to pop up at the gym, perhaps the beginnings of the "before work" crowd. So i walked into the locker room, and was immediately presented with two naked old men, standing there, facing each other with arms crossed, loudly (loudly!) discussing...ingrown hairs. I spent the entire time it took me to change trying my damnedest to ignore their astoundingly single-minded discussion about ingrown hairs, the reasons they get them, how they might be related to their particular brand of razor, and exactly what size is appropriate to "pop them like a pimple." As i'm sure any standard human being is aware, when you are trying your damnedest to ignore something, it makes it that much harder to succeed.

Honestly, can't you put your clothes on first? Or at least make an effort to be changing while you have this highly inappropriate discussion? I'm not ok with this. Not. Ok.

As i was telling Amanda about this on our way out, she inquired as to whether this happens often. I said, let me put it this way:

Last time that we went to the gym together, a couple days prior, we went swimming. When i came back in, in order to find a vacant shower stall, i had to pass between two occupied stalls in which naked old men were standing, with the curtains open, facing one another. You can imagine my discomfort.

I have a well-documented aversion to interacting with others while my wang is out. Or while their wang is out. Amanda thinks this is funny. Amanda always finds my discomfort funny.

Amanda is also concerned that i may be a homophobe.

My friend Jesse also brought this point up once, while i was telling the New Zealand shower room story at school last year. Jesse, also known as my conservative friend Jesse, also known as my rural Wisconsin redneck goat farming Conservative friend Jesse (i only use these descriptors because i feel it's important to set the tone for his comments), finds an interesting paradigm between more accepting persons (liberals) and actual homophobes. He says, where he's from, where being gay is generally not tolerated, guys talk while peeing all the time, and also in other wang-out type situations. They don't really think about it. Whereas in areas where homosexuality is largely accepted, people get weird about their genitals in the presence of others. He, too, then accused us city-dwelling folk of being in denial of our own homophobia. At the time, i made a vague half-agreement, saying it was something interesting to consider.

After further thought, i decided that he's wrong. Because i don't want strange women talking to me while i'm peeing either. It's got nothing to do with gender and everything to do with the fact that i am peeing, or showering, or any other activity that i generally do in private. I'm not comfortable with two naked old ladies standing in the middle of the locker room discussing their ingrown hairs either.

As far as i'm concerned, when you need to be naked in a locker room, you should do it as quickly as possible and without thrusting your nudity upon others. Conduct your business and get out. This is not an ice cream social at the Happy Valley Nudist Colony. I am uncomfortable with your body.

I'm guessing that Amanda will be the only one to find this post humorous. Anyone else is probably going, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? Meh.

Anyway, if anyone wants to engage in the wang-out/homophobia discussion, feel free to leave a comment. Some comments would be nice. I rarely get those. And usually when i do, they don't make any damn sense.

Update: I feel that this validates my position.

Update 8/24/2011: Also this.