Monday, April 28, 2008

My Belle's Birthday

29 years ago, to the day, my dream-of-a wife was born into this world. This is the first of her birthdays since we've been married that we've had to spend apart, and I hope it is the last. I absolutely hate it that I can't be with her on her birthday, but I'm so grateful that her mother, my unbelievably wonderful mother-in-law, is keeping her company and that they are getting to spend some quality mother daughter time while I take a German test.

Enough pouting though. Good lord, what do I have to complain about? I am blessed beyond all that I could have ever hoped for with my wonderful wife. She makes me laugh harder than anyone than anyone I've ever met. The fact is, I'm just not right when I'm not with her. I love her more each and every day.

Not only is she the most incredibly beautiful, talented, creative woman I've ever met or seen, she is the best friend I've ever had. Every year she gets more and more gorgeous. It just blows my mind.

Happy birthday to my darling off-the-charts-incredible wife. You inspire me, you challenge me, and encourage me and I Love you.

Monday, April 21, 2008

The Carson Daily Mystery

Am I the only person that watches Carson Daily with a strong sense of shock and awe? Is he really that good at duping people into thinking that he is cool, or least of all, funny? I have tried, over and over to find some reason why he has a show and I have come up empty handed and in full yawn, every single time.

Maybe it's because he reminds me of one of those popular guys in High School that somehow knew all the popular hot girls. One of those guys that just seemed untouchable. One of those guys who you just knew... that if you could just get to be his buddy, THEN you'd have a chance with the cheerleaders. But then, when you got to know him, you found out that he was really a doof, and you wonder why in the world you ever left all of your poor, lower-class but super-hilarious friends to climb the social ladder to be best buddies with a complete gonad.

I hate to be mean, but I really don't think the man is one tiny bit funny. I think he did a good job on MTV, because he was sort of "that kind of chap." Next to Britney, he even seemed a little authentic. But sweet Jehosophat, he is no comedian nor is he near the coolness of Conan, by a long shot. Yet, it is painfully apparent that someone thinks he is cool. It is just kinda sickening to watch. I almost feel sorry for him. I've never watched a talk show where so many of my emotions are vying for dominance: Hatred, compassion, boredom, sleepiness, (not an emotion really), smugness, indifference...

I'm sure there are plenty of people out there who just love him to death. God bless you. But me, I don't know... maybe it just brings back to many painful high school and leaving too many good friends behind.

Whatever the case. I tried to like Carson. I failed. Therefore, nary another moment shall be waisted watching yon Carson.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Ladies, Will This Be You In 70 Years?

Sometimes I dream of seeing something so funny. This can't be real. Did she really just fall asleep right there?

Saturday, April 19, 2008

HWBJAR? = How Would Bad Jesus-Actor Respond?

I'm always trying to find new and creative ways to respond to people that either annoy or offend me. From now on, I am going to respond to them as if I am a bad Jesus actor in one of those old horrible Easter movies.

I think I might be the perfect solution. For instance, every time someone approaches me and says something like, "Excuse me, I was here first," when they really weren't first before me in the Starbux line, I will turn to them with a look of peace and say, very calmly, "And that is not all that isn't first in your life, my child." (Referring to them as "my child," even if it is an old lady.)

Then I would slightly close my eyes and make some sort of prophesy. "In fact, you should be thinking about who your husband has first in his life... your nanny seems to be enjoying first dibs at a great many things..., my child."

It is very important, if you try this, that you end everything with "my child."

However, I would refrain from trying this out on your spouse. I have a feeling it won't have the same effect.

I'm thinking Brant should try this on his morning show to various callers.

Friday, April 18, 2008

In the News This Week...

Evidently, another level of hell was discovered when this here Sheriff was arrested for forcing some of his lady inmates to do things with him that one would rather not imagine.

Scratch that... The level of Hell that Sheriff Burges was thought be adding... It turns out that Microsoft is pulling the plug on Windows XP. In doing so, they opened a level in Hell for Sheriff Burges to rule.

Hey, I Didn't Paint this Picture.

Laminin: The protein glue that holds the human body together.
I know that many would scoff at this. I might be tempted as well. This may be a little corny, but... if you are God-believing man or woman... I don't know... seems a little bit like a put up job to me.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Random-Thursday-Night-During-Commercials Post


Lambs eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy
a kid'll eat ivy too. A kid'll eat ivy too wouldn't you.

Sometimes I like to start out my posts with happy little songs. Or about unhealthy things I like to eat or drink.

Tonight, for a little excitement, Amber and I walked down to the corner Grocery store and bought some chips and Coke Zero. I went home and poured a cup of Sugar into the bottle. That's not true. I wish I had that kind of guts... those kinds of guts? Anyways. You know you are losing your manhood when you are watching the tube with a box of reduced fat Nilla Wafers sitting on your belly and a bottle of frosty Coke Zero to wash them down. Next I'll be watching Grey's Anatomy and painting my toenails.

Well that's about it for tonight folks. Show's back on.

Mainly I posted this because I don't like clicking over to my blog and only seeing some deep, long boring post dangling out there.

At least, that's what she said. (Bu-dum-splash!)

G'nite everyone!

Okay, another quick joke. When George Bush was asked if he ever tested for dyslexia, he responded, "On!"

Take Today, For Instance

Today is the most drop-dead, jaw-dropping, lick-an-ice-cream-cone-and-sing-songs-while-skipping beautiful day I have maybe ever seen. The trees are budding pink, white, yellow, green... it was about 65 degrees in the shade, 69 degrees in the sun, just cool enough to wear a light jacket, but just warm enough to wear a t-shirt and shorts - if you really wanted to sit in the sun. Central Park was packed with happy-as-a-lark New Yorkers at 3:00 when Amber and I went for a walk. People really do get in a good mood up here when the day is pretty. I can see why.

And its days like today, that I don't really feel like theology does the trick. See, I think most times when I dive into the theological depths, I say that I am looking for God, but what I am really doing is assuring myself that there is a God and that I am going to heaven. I think at the bottom of that can be all about "me." And I think I should think about "me" a little less. I think I should maybe quit trying to "know myself and where I fit in it all" a little bit less.

I think if maybe ever' once in a while we could try to know our neighbor, then maybe we wouldn't be so worried about predestination or whatever. I think if I can spend about 3 minutes not thinking about myself and ponder the wonders of that tree covered in white flowers, just swaying in the wind like its waving at the sky, I'll probably get the best theology lesson I've had in weeks, maybe years.

After all, Jesus didn't say, "Consider the Trinity..." or "Consider free will," or "Consider dispensationalism."

Nope, He said. "Just sit still for a minute. Stop worrying. Consider those Lilies over there."

Maybe the best theology lessons are sometimes found in loving our neighbor and looking at lilies.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

For About Five Minutes, Once A Month...

I get tired of theology. I don't know. I just want to be. All my life I've been drawn to theology, otherwise known as "the art of ignoring Genesis."

When I was 9 years old I added up how old the earth should be, according to Genesis, and began my path of questioning the existence of God. My dad sat on the edge of my bed, a little stunned as I showed him my faulty math (by my calculations the bible said that the earth was only 2000 year old) and declared that I wasn't sure that I believed in God anymore.

"Well, why would you wonder a thing like that?"

"I don't know... It just doesn't seem to add up."

"Lots of things in life don't add up, Son, but that doesn't mean that you can stop breathing."

I'd say that is probably the best answer the man could have given me. He didn't tell me that I should be ashamed of my doubt. He didn't give me some cockamamie pseudo-scientific explanation that would just be shattered later. He opened the door to a little thing called "Mystery."

But we had just moved from our family into a big scary city and I was really feeling mad a God for moving us, since my dad had moved us to go to seminary...

Honestly, that is what some crap a Christian therapist would tell me. But, I don't think that's really it. I don't think I really ever doubted God. I just doubted the bible and what was taught to me in Sunday School. My whole life I've been plagued with an allergy to closed-off, rigid Christian thinking. When I was twelve I got into a small fight with my Sunday school teacher because I asked him, "Well, isn't the act of asking Jesus to come into your heart kind of a work?... and doesn't the bible say 'By grace you've been saved, through faith, not by works.'" He didn't like where that was going and tried to close that line of questioning. But I wouldn't let up. "And where does it actually say, "ask Jesus into your heart?" He didn't like that question either. And it really made mad that he couldn't answer. He was supposed to know. I mean, he acted like he knew everything.

This kind of doubt poked at me throughout middle school and into high school, even though I remained a goody-two-shoes, however plagued with the normal, constant state of adolescent lust. Come to think of it... what a torturous time. No wonder I felt so guilty all the time. Anyways... enough about that. Ahem.

It wasn't until my freshman year in college that things started to make a little sense. Because when I was 19 I experienced my 30 seconds as an atheist.

I was sitting in my front lawn, looking at the trees and trying to reconcile it all. It just didn't add up. So, I said, "Okay, I don't believe in God." What followed was one of the "realest" feeling moments of my life. It was like a spirit or perspective that had been with my whole life, removed itself from me. Suddenly everything looked heart-breakingly empty, hollow... even sorta scary. I felt empty. The worst emptiness I had ever felt. "I TAKE IT BACK, I TAKE IT BACK... Okay, Lord, then send me a little help, would ya?"

He did. It all came in the well-known book called "Mere Christianity." There hasn't been a book since, besides the Good Book, that has mad a greater impact upon me. And where had that material been my whole life? Why is Mere Christianity such a powerful book to so many? I think because most people grow up being taught bad doctrine by well-meaning but not-so-well-informed Sunday School teachers and Youth Ministers. They grow up hearing things that are just flat out wrong about scripture that come from a minds that are so rigid that one could play ping pong on any side of the brain.

The fact is that many protestants think that all they need to understand the great depth that lies in the Bible is the Bible and the mind that the Good Lord gave them. Well, folks, that ain't true. Just ask David Koresh. Just ask half the preachers in the South during segregation. The fact is, that we can make the Bible say about anything we want it to say and the whole time feeeeeeel like the Holy Spirit is just a' moving right along side us. Anyways... I digress into my critical mode. God bless sundayschool teachers, ever' one. And I mean that. It is a hard and thankless job and if you are a Sunday School teacher reading this and you don't feel qualified to teach, then you are probably just the right man/woman for the job. You are the ones that will most likely do your homework and get many points of view, and lean not on your own understanding.

And THAT is what I'm talking about when I say I like to take a break from it all. I just like to sit back, read a few Psalms, and enjoy the pretty weather. Sometimes I just want to say, and please forgive my irreverence, "Ahhh, dispensationalism vs. Covenant... Calvinism vs. Catholicism (because Armenian doesn't make a lick of sense)... Millenialst vs. Premillinialist ... ..... ..... seriously. Who gives a flying peanut-covered turd?"

I mean, is any of that stuff matter to a woman whose just had the crap beat out of her by her husband? Does any of that matter to a family who just lost their dad and can't pay their bills? Does any of that stuff matter to the young couple who just moved to NYC and got evicted from their apartment within the first 3 months? Does any of that matter to the lillies of the friggin field? Me thinks not.

But, it is my plague to care, and I am drawn to it like Micheal Moore is drawn to Pizza. and like I said, for five minutes or so, every month, I achieve a little Christian Nirvana... I don't care one bit.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Passive Aggression. I Bet You Think This Blog is About You. Don't You Don't You?

Okay, so I'm thinking I might not have been as clear as I should have been. I'm afraid that I've upset some of my Southern Brethren. For that, I apologize.

Being passive aggressive doesn't have anything to do with being from the North or the South. (However I think the South it is more common.) Being passive aggressive doesn't have anything to do with being polite or grown-up or manners or any of that jazz. No, you shouldn't tell people that they offended you every time they look at you funny. That is not passive aggression.

Passive aggression is about aggression. A-gress-i-on. And purposefully and aggressively harming someone, is wrong. Period. Whether it is passive or not. I prefer the up-in-your-face aggression, myself. At least I know what I'm dealing with.

Passive aggression is a kind of aggression that does not confront. Instead it battles whatever it is that it is mad at or hates, by manipulation, procrastination, paying its employee late, or less, or never... or whatever.

Two examples. One is P.A. and one is not.

Non-passive-aggressive Jeff
1. Sally is mean to Jeff. Jeff blows it off because he knows Sally gets a little "funny" once a month or so, and Jeff goes about his business.

P.A. Jeff
2. Sally is mean to Jeff. Even though Jeff knows its something about a monthly cycle, Jeff decides to retaliate. But Jeff is a little too afraid of Sally to do it directly. So instead of attacking Sally to her face, Jeff gives her the silent treatment all afternoon, and then purposefully takes his time to get ready for Sally's business party and makes her late.

Example number 2.

Non P.A. Samuel

1. Samuel believes that his German language exam is stupidly difficult, considering he is a music DMA candidate. However, Samuel accepts the difficulty as one of life's pain-in-the-ass things and buckles down and studies as if he is about to be the U.N. translator for the German Chancellor.

P.A. Samuel
2. Samuel believes that his German language exam is stupidly difficult, considering he is a music DMA candidate. Samuel silently rebels by refusing to study and finally, Samuel is forced to cheat on his exam.

Example number 3.

Non-P.A. Daniel and Helen
1. Daniel hates it that his wife, Helen no longer wants to have hanky panky with him. Daniel sits Helen down and in a very nice and understanding way, expresses that his needs are not being met. Helen tells Daniel that she wishes Daniel was more romantic, like he used to be when they were dating. Daniel says he is sorry and starts bringing Helen flowers and other sweet things that he used to do. Daniel starts wearing cologne. Daniel stops wearing his favorite underoos every night, the ones that barely cover the essentials, and buys some J. Crew boxers. In no time-flat, Daniel and Helen are back doing the marital shigg-nasty and all is well.

P.A. Daniel (and probably Helen too)
2. Daniel hates it that his wife, Helen, no longer wants to have hanky panky. Instead of confronting his wife and communicating his feelings, Daniel first tries to accept things as they are and tries to bury his frustration and anger. Then, Daniel resorts to expressing his sexuality in other ways, justifying his actions by saying, "well, if she isn't going to help me out, I'm getting what I need elsewhere." Then ten years down the road, Daniel meets another woman that finds him attractive at a local work event. In two weeks, two months or a year, Daniel has left his wife and runnoft with his new happiness. Leaving the wife (and possibly kids) bewildered.

Now, that second scenario obviously is going to be much more complicated. And not all divorces happen that way. But my dad is a preacher, as many of you know, and he did his own dissertation on divorce and has counseled many-a-almost-divorced couple over their passive aggressive tendencies and some opened up the lines of communication and some didn't. Take a guess at the ones that end up staying together. I also have have many, many friends who have failed in their marriage because both couples never confronted each other, they simply let it build and retaliated passive aggressively. One couple got so bad that in the morning, the wife would make coffee, pour herself a cup and then pour out the rest before the husband could get a cup of his own. Sounds absurd, but that's what years and years of passive aggression will do to ya.

I hope I've done a better job this time around.

And I will say this a clearly as I can. If any of these events, (besides the coffee true story) resemble any of my readers, it was and is a complete coincidence. As the Lord of Hosts is my witness. I am not talking about anyone that I know. (Accept for the coffee couple and I don't really know them anymore.)

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Are You Passive Aggressive?

I know I am. I have to fight it. Most people are a little passive aggressive, especially in their marriage, but some people are masters at it, like me. I have battled it and I've gotten pretty decent at overcoming it, but there are still a few kinds of people that really turn on my passive aggressive faucets. Here is one of the greatest traits of a passive aggressive personality: Instead of confronting you on what is really bothering us, we will inadvertently attempt to punish you or correct you by either, 1. Ignoring you, 2. telling you that you are wrong by pointing out to someone else what we hate about you, without ever really addressing you personally.

Say, I'm at a party. And my neighbor is there. And my neighbor has been making a bunch of noise. Instead of directly confronting my neighbor, I will talk to another friend, while my neighbor is present, and mention how much I hate loud noise at night and how neighbors that play loud music after 10 should be shot. So, the neighbor is standing there, and they say, "Oh, I hope that wasn't me. I had loud music on the other night!" And you turn to your neighbor, sugar sweet, because you have avoided confrontation, and say, "Oh, no, you guys are great! It's those other guys that get on my nerves."

The neighbor walks away, but somehow knows that they were talking about them but just didn't say so.

The saddest part about that whole confrontation is what it does to the friendship. Because dishonesty was sown into the meeting, it is, until resolved, permanently damaged. Passive aggressive people try to teach others a lesson by teaching everyone else a lesson except the person that they are really trying to teach a lesson to.

In the deep South, (Alabama, Georgia, and some parts of Texas-usually from the Deep South but immigrated to Texas,) passive aggressive is called: "Politeness." It is taught and grafted into our genes. In the north, it is called talking out your ass. In the north they go the opposite way and the natural disposition is crabby. Whereas in the South it is a smile with a dagger waiting just under the petticoat. There are pros and cons to both, in my opinion, but in the end, I prefer the honesty. It hurts, but it is a much better treatment for the problem.

When I was going through my heavy metal phase in High School, I remember a certain Deacon's wife who always taught our Sunday School class. Instead of saying, "Seth, I don't think that Heavy Metal music is good for your soul," she would say, "So class, how is Sodom and Gomorah like listening to dangerous Heavy Metal music?" I do that stuff to Amber sometimes, if she has done something that has hurt my feelings. It is a good thing for me that she sees right through it, and not only sees through it, she just right then and there blows it out in the open. Its just awesome.

One of the MANY reason why I knew Amber was for me is that there isn't a passive aggressive bone in her body. If she disagrees with you, she says so. If she thinks she's offended you, she says so and tries to make it right. She is the truest person I've ever known (to quote Shadowlands.) When I try the silent treatment, she won't have it. She engages me until I spit out why I am mad. She forces me out of cowardice. Which in the end, is what passive aggressive is all about: Being a controlling chicken. You are too afraid of risking damage to the relationship so you try to control it instead of confronting.

I still work on it, to this day, but the biggest breakthrough came with one of my composition teachers at Rice. He was a substitute prof., sitting in for one of the professors on sabatical. Not only was he a great composer at 72, but he was a very skilled and sought-after therapist. I was having some issues about fear and leaving Houston, and he sniffed them out like a hound dog. This man sat me down and very kindly probed and probed until we discovered that it was my passive aggressive , fearful attitude that was keeping me from walking in obedience. It was a double whammy for me, because I'm also a people pleaser. I'll get around saying what I mean because I don't want the person to not like me. That's more cowardice.

I am also very susceptible to the passive aggressive person, because I'm a people pleaser. Passive aggressive people used to be able to do a serious number on me. Man, I mean it. But in the end, I learned that the way to disarm the passive aggressive person (even if they are doing it and don't know it) is a direct, head-on confrontation. It is the equivalent of punching the bully back, in a good way. At that point, the passive aggressive person has two options: They either adapt, and move on into a greater friendship, or they throw up smoke screens and never admit to being offended or affected. But as for you, you are free. You've done what the Lord said, and you can dust-off your feet and move on. If that means move on from the friendship, then sadly, so be it.

The worst part about BEING passive aggressive is that you can never truly forgive if you never admit that you've been harmed or hurt. Your pride hides your hurt-ness and you tuck away the hurt and build up walls, so that no one will hurt you again. It is a dangerous defense mechanism that eventually fosters a bitterness that takes years to get over. And your body is an amazing healing mechanism. It will come out someday, just like an old splinter. It will come out, or it will rot your finger off.

I think if I would have grown up in a different family, I would have been helpless to fight my P.A. tendencies. My family is tremendously confrontational. If you tick them off, they really give you the what-for. If you are hurt, they get it out of you.

It is different for different people. We've all got those traits, I suppose, but Jesus tells us what to do about it: Confront. Walk into the fire. Walk into your fear.

There wasn't a passive aggressive bone in the Lord's body, and there shouldn't be in ours, I mean, YOURS, JOHN!

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Blown Away

American Idol: Shout to the Lord

This amazed me last night. I suppose there are loads and loads of Christians everywhere all huffed and puffed because they decided to change the word "Jesus" to "Shepherd." I'm not. Here's why:

(Besides the fact that the Idol contestants, not to mention Dolly Parton when she was on the show, have been singing about Jesus, unashamedly for weeks...)

I'd say the last thing that a Christian should do about all those people singing that song, is complain. God draws all men unto Himself and the road that leads to Him is longer for some than it is for others. (Thanks C-ham for that thought) The worst thing we can do to a soul reaching for Him is to slap his hand every time he reaches because he/she isn't able to keep up with us. Rather, we should work beside them, like a thankful thirsty soul, who's found water, and show them, through love, who the Truth is and how He Loves perfectly and without condition.

The world has grown weary of hyper-critical self-righteous pompous stuck-up judgemental Christians. The Samaritan story is just as poignant as it was when it was told 2000 years ago. However, the smack in the face is less felt since we are not Jews and in this day in age we don't really think of Samaritan as filthy sinners, unfit for the temple.

Substitute the "Good Samaritan" with the "the Good Morman" or the "Good Seeker" and then you've got the proper impact. If it pisses you off, then the words of Jesus have hit the mark they were meant to hit.

No one ever comes to Christ staring down the barrel of a Christian's accusatory index finger.

As my friend Brant put it: "People "get" the Kingdom of God. They can't avoid it. Spend an evening focused on the "least of these", and something like this seems unavoidable."

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Mahogany Trash in the Upper West Side

I CAN NOT BELIEVE the furniture that I see sitting on the street in our neighborhood in Manhattan. In the past week I've walked past three different king-sized, hand-carved, oak, mahogany and cherry headboards, just sitting out on the curb, waiting to be thrown into the dump truck with the poopie diapers and snot rags. I'm not talking junk here. I'm talking stuff that looks like it just came off the floor of ... Dillards... or one of those stores where things look good and cost even gooder. (Me no shop)

I've been slowly trying to talk Amber into snagging some of these freebies but she ain't having it. I saw a rocking chair two days ago, again... oak, carved, amazing, but Amber was convinced that some slew of salon perm dogs had probably taken a leak on it, so some other lucky slob got it. (I checked a half and hour later.)

Anywho, yesterday, I walked past two shaped steel and glass-top furniture pieces on the curb out in front of OUR building. Sitting out there like they had dropped off and forgotten by a furniture delivery company. Now, we've got this deck, see. And I just bought four chairs on sale (TEN BUCKS A PEICE!) from Bed Bath and Beyond-overpriced to go on that deck see, but I don't have a table to sit my sweet-tea or cowboy boots upon, and it's almost three weeks into spring, and I'm way to cheapskate go buy one...

But it was the nice looking young couple that stopped at the two tables, in broad daylight, examined both as if they were on the showroom floor, and finally, ran off with the big piece that sent me upstairs with the glass top to the smaller table under one arm and the shaped steel table in the other. I'm mighty proud of my score now sitting on my deck.

It is amazing how much more desirable something becomes when someone else wants it.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008

I'll Take a Shot

I have decided that I want in on this blowing-the-torch-out action. Not because I hate the Chinese or anything, but because it sounds like fun and like it or not, pissing Chinese people off is a little bit funny. But alas, the torch is across the mainland, far away from my glass of water.

I don't know why we are all so mad about the Chinese though... if we were really mad, I suppose we'd stop wearing about half our clothing, stop using half our electronic devices and we'd stop paying our taxes because thanks to George W., the GREATEST presidente since Andrew Jackson, we are now in debt to China up to our yingyangs.

But, I need my T.V. because American Idol is on and I want to watch and then later, on the news, I want to see if somebody gets in a lucky shot on the torch.

I also heard that the Chinese are now vowing to protect the torch. Weeeeell, maybe in California, a.k.a., sissy-ville, (with the exception of the Govenator- who won because he scared all the sissies) but if that torch came through Texas, the Red army would have a hard time fending off the long range fire-extinguishers that every red-blooded Texan has in each and every closet of their giant homes. Plus, we got oil down there. And the oil men of Texas know how to put out a fire, regardless of how many Ninjas they've got dancing like cracker-jack-chickens around the flame.

Here's and idea: To protest the Chinese, like ever' red-blooded hippy should, I am going run through the living room tonight (all 6 feet of it) with a candle and Amber is going to chunk water on it. Then I'm going to jump around and act angry while I do a few Ninja moves and make up dirty Chinese words. Then I'll sit down with her, pop some popcorn and watch two full hours of Dancing and Singing on my Chinese-special High-def television.

Problem solved.

I should be a politician.

Too Funny Not To Share.

Sometimes, some of you write comments that are so dang funny that they should be their own post. Here is such a comment. Behold, I present to you, "The Stan and the Underwear Caper."

The Stan wrote this in response to the Underwear bra post. Enjoy.

"That reminds me of a story...

You know how you sometimes take off your pants and underwear at the same time?

And then you wear the same pants the next day, but you forget your old underwear is still in them?

And then you're at Costco,and you notice this bit of white sticking out the bottom of your pants leg?

And you don't know what to do because there are people all around, but you can't just leave it there?

And you have this horrifying realization that you've been walking around Costco for 30 minutes with your underwear hanging out the bottom of your pants leg?

So you nonchalantly meander over to the nearest garbage can...and inconspicuously check to make sure none of the 300 people standing around are looking in your direction...and you reach down, pull the pair of underwear from out of the bottom of your pants leg, and throw them in the garbage? happens.

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Mr. Anderson.

Amber and I took a stroll to the Starbucks a few blocks away from our apartment and afterwards, like clockwork, we dropped by the Barnes and Noble. After twenty or so minutes of quiet book perusing , Amber walked up to me and said, "Seth, I think there are secret service people all around us." I looked up from my biography of Clint Eastwood to see several men wearing suits and all of them had one of those little swirly ear-deals hanging off one of their earlobes.

Now, Amber and I are pretty curious people, and sometimes, when you are surrounded by secret service guys, curiosity is not the best attribute to have. After we had identified each secret service dude like we were bird watchers, we decided to wander upstairs to see if there were any signs about a visiting author or some big political stud, since the Lincoln Center Barnes and Noble is a popular spot to promote new books. But as we rose on the escalator above the bookline of the second floor... nothing going on.

As we turned around to go back downstairs, Amber turned around and said, "Oh crap, there's another one." And of course, like a doofus, I turned around and looked and then tried not to act like I had identified him. In less than 5 minutes, we were public enemy number one.

By this time most folks would cut their losses and leave the store, being trailed by dangerous men and all, but of course, we had to know who the heck all the hubbub was about. So we plunged back into the book section where there was the greatest density of the Agents. It only took a few minutes to figure out who all the security guys were protecting. It was obviously the Arabic dude casually handing books to a servant standing next to him holding a stack of books. Yaaaaawn.

So whoopidie doo. After the disappointment, we decided to stay but because hey, that was a good book I put down for nothing and I wanted to get back into it. But by that time, we had been acting so suspicious that every move we made seemed to elicit a chain reaction of finger-to-the-ear-bud movements from the Agent Smith and his cronies. At one point I almost stopped reading and said, "Listen people. I don't know who this character over here is and I don't care. But me and the wife here would like to read and browse in peace without feeling like we are going to be physically damaged every time we take a sip of our latte. So just chill out with the ear buds and the trailing. Thank you, and welcome to America."

But I didn't, and after a few more minutes we decided to leave. Because if that guy who we didn't recognize had soooooo many bodyguards, that must mean he's got a bunch of people who want him dead. And we didn't really want to be in on that party.

Friday, April 04, 2008

Into the Loiness Den

Okay, so I've just gotta put up another post besides the underwear bra picture. It was funny, now it is entering into the depressing realm.

In other news....

I'm playing for a Chorus Line audition tomorrow. Should be interesting. I was thinking about playing the fast songs really slow and the slow songs really fast, just to lighten it up a bit.

Those auditions are intense affairs. Nowhere else, besides maybe under the probing eyes of a Baptist Deacon's wife, will your attire be so incredibly scrutinized.

As you walk past the throngs of crowded girls, (usually huddling around one particular girl who seems to know everybody in the business including the director of the show for which the audition is being held, even though she is somehow in the same line as everyone else,) you (the new girl in the room) will receive the "initial" scan. Most girls are subconsciously aware of this scan anyways because they do it naturally, but in the audition the initial scan/glare is marked and barbed. These girls are masters... no, savants at instantly finding "the" flaw in you that sets them one step higher. One way to know that you are a serious threat is if the glances continue throughout the audition waiting period.

The real compliment comes if one of the brave girls breaks ranks, usually the ring-leader in the group, and approaches you for apparently no other reason but to strike up a conversation and tell you that she loves your shoes, or your dress, or your bracelet, or purse, or whatever. Notice, they will not compliment anything about your flesh-and-blood body. No, for "building your self-esteem" is not the real purpose of the advance or compliment.

The real purpose is espionage. They have come to find an insecurity or flaw in your: resume, personality, complexion-up-close, voice, ankle-size, boob size (and the effects of gravity therein), butt-size, song-selection, or anything else that will give the poor, jealous prodding girl - your seemingly new BFF - the upper-hand.

The whole thing is a little sad, but its all a part of the game.

But let's be honest, the audition room isn't the only place one can find these tactics. Right? Dudes do it too. Especially musicians. And oddly enough, especially Christian musicians.

However, there is not a sorority or social club or worship-leader conference that can rival the intense dance of tender audition-room assassin, the sticky-sweet, slightly-plump-but-the-prettiest mercenary "originally from Atlanta but came up to audition on a whim" girl who comes to you offering poison freindship-apple balanced on her french-manicured claws.

It is sordid business indeed.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

This Is Amazing

NPR received this confidential diagram of LunarCorp's proposed advertising system
April 1, 2008 -- According to documents obtained by NPR, a California-based company has developed a powerful laser that can project images on to the surface of the moon.

The company, LunarCorp, was founded three years ago by Jack Libnitz who is best known for convincing the United States government to allow private companies to launch their own satellites. It was in 1986 that Libnitz came up with the idea to project images on to the moon's surface for the purpose of selling advertising. And, now, it looks as though his plan may become a reality.

LunarCorp's laser was developed by a team of engineers and optical physicists lead by Ludo Fisher of the European Space Agency. Fisher says the science to project images on to the moon's surface has been available for more than a decade, but the cost has been prohibitive until now.

Legal experts say LunarCorp's plan is illegal, a violation of the 1969 International Lunar Treaty that banned commercial activity on the moon. Libnitz insists he's not worried about being sued. "I'm only sending an image into space," he says. "The moon just happens to be in the way."

On April 1st, LunarCorp will attempt to project the logo of an undisclosed company on to the moon's surface, which will be in half-moon phase on that day as seen from Earth. If it fails, says Libnitz, the company will try again on April 7th when the moon is full.