I had a bad experience when I was sixteen and again when I was nineteen. I probably should have known better the second time around. But I really don't understand why it still goes on probably millions of times a day around the world.
Just two days ago, my roommate and I were in the gym and I see this guy working out, and this guy is flipping huge, but he had this weird look on his face. I kept pretending to watch the TV on the wall and sneaking glances (because you can get killed for staring at another guy at the gym). Finally I saw the spit cub on the ground. I put two and two together. Sour look + lip bulge + spit cup = Chewing Tobacco. When I figured it out I was really surprised. Do people really still do that? In the suburbs of Chicago? In a gym?
Sure enough, on my way to work I stopped at the BP and went inside to pay because I know the lady that works there. Three out of four of the people in front of me in line bought either chew or cigarettes (at like $6 a pack no less). I really don't get it! It makes me so confused that I'm angry about it.
For just about as long as the tobacco and alcohol industry has been in business they lean on the fact that 1. Their product is addictive. 2. Sex appeal. Every cigarette and beer add is aimed at telling people that being drunk and dragging a cigarette will make you look sophisticated and sexy. This has not been my experience. How is putting tobacco in your lip and spitting out what looks like mud into a cup every 30 seconds sexy? How is making your clothes and my clothes and your hair smell bad sexy? When I lived in MO, the first time I saw a girl spit tobacco juice out of her mouth, a shiver ran down my spine and I vomited in my mouth a little.
See when I was 16 I kissed a girl that was smoking. Don't judge me. I was at a dance club. I didn't know her, I didn't expect it. It was not hot. I almost threw up in her mouth. Again, when I was 19 the date I was with smoked a cigarette two hours ago, chewed gum, and put on perfume. When I kissed her all I could taste and smell was cigarette.
So I don't understand. In the Chicagoland area they are making it illegal to smoke in restaurants, city parks, your car, and get this... bars. Tobacco prices are through the roof. You get cancer from chew and cigarettes (or fags as the British call them). They make girls smell and taste like campfire ashes.
WHY IS THIS STILL GOING ON?
On being kissable...
Things are more awkward when they are closer.
I made a post September 21st entitled "Wash, Rinse, Repeat." It was given 8 out of 10 stars on the "is this post gay" meter but it is true none the less. I was saying how I went to Hair Cuttery to get a cheaper hair cut and I felt like I was cheating on my "stylist" Joy. The girl that cut my hair's name was Laura. (Not the same girl from the post about Taco Bell)
This is going somewhere I promise.
So yesterday I went back to Hair Cuttery for a quick clip and some lady I don't know says "Sure I can take a walk-in. Come on back. Do you care who does your hair?" "No" I reply as she sits me down in a chair next to a small boy getting his hair cut by Laura. So not only did I cheat on my stylist with Laura, I'm now getting my hair cut by yet another lady sitting right next to Laura.
I try to convince myself that she doesn't recognize me. But then the lady cutting my hair starts asking me questions. Do you live around here? What do you do for a living? Well, there goes that plan. So I'm giving these one word answers and trying to time my responses with Laura leaving to go get things from the back.
After it was all said and done, I had to wonder "What the *&^) is going on in my head!"
Maybe I'm destined to be weird. Maybe I'm destined to be at odds with girls named Laura.
You could always work in advertising...
I just saw a commercial for birth control pills.
The background song playing was "We're not going to take it."
I think it's time to fire someone.
Adventures with the Next Blog button
The problem with blogging on a regular basis is... well, frankly... that no one else does. I don't mean no one, just very few. Many people today would rather post a picture with a caption, or a link that says "check this out."
For a while I stopped blogging and then it was just once a month. I was chided for my neglect, and so I have resumed. But now I log in with expectations to read comments and check out updates on other blogs, only to find less and less each month. I've tried to cheer myself up by making smiley faces with the ":" and ")" keys. After about twelve pages of that, I decided to seek out new opportunities. I pressed the "Next Blog" button located at the top of the page.
Here are my observations.
- Many people don't blog in English. I wonder if this adds to the experience. I also wonder what Swedish people call their literature/grammar class. "Yeah, have fun in gym I'll see you in Swedish."
- The porn industry has blogs. I guess they have feelings to share... it gets boring after awhile. Everyone just keeps talking about how good everything feels.
- Pictures posted without captions are more mysterious.
- Many people are boring.
- Most boring people believe themselves to be interesting.
- If you are boring, you should post pictures with no captions... or don't post.
- There is a whole subculture of bloggers that are posting pictures of their children in sports team apparel and discussing which team they are going to force them to like. Many of these blogs are written by women. I want to visit these blogs repeatedly to see how quickly the child rebels and joins the school musical.
- Most good blogs go unappreciated, unnoticed, and are few and far between. Only 1 out of every 31 blogs is good. I can assume this because after pushing the button thirty times I have yet to find one worth reading. I will keep the hope alive though.
- People who devote their blog to creating discussion about politics have no need for comment sections. No one will.
So in closing, push at your own risk.
Way to die and ruin MY day...
Is this your life?
After I battled two construction zones, one stripped road, and traffic being rerouted because of an arrest I finally made it to Lew St. This time of year Lew St. is a breath of fresh air. There is no construction, no heavy traffic. It is about a quarter mile stretch of road that gently curves and becomes Rock Creek Rd. This is the last two minutes of my drive to work. It is quiet and pretty as the leaves are changing. Sometimes they litter the road and it is like being in a leaf tunnel with the trees stretching above and the fallen leaves covering the road below making it more reminiscent of a forest floor than a paved road.
Yesterday morning as I was turning the corner, smoothly transitioning in the limbo somewhere between Lee and Rock Creek I spotted a squirrel in the road. He obviously wass running about trying to store up nuts for the coming winter. And by some will of fate, his travels brought him to stand on the dotted yellow line in the middle of Rock Creek Rd. Although his tail was a bit mangy, he was slightly cute the way all animals that wiggle there noses rapidly are, so I veered right and give him a wide berth.
I'm not quite sure what happened next. Even though there were no other cars, even though I was steering the car away from him, even though he was facing away from my side of the street... when my car came within five feet of the squirrel, he turned suddenly and ran in front of my car. He started to dart across the road and then stopped. I swerved to try and angle the car so it would pass under the middle and not under a tire. Just before he left my line of sight over my hood, I see him turn and leap. I felt the bump. I heard the thud. I looked in my rear view mirror to see his body twitching on the road.
I did everything I could. He had every opportunity not to be in that situation. I don't get it.