Monday, March 28, 2011

Shitty music monday #2

Yes that's right, to make up for my utter lack of posting last week, I've decided to post a regular post AS WELL AS a shitty music monday!

So without further's today's Shitty music!

I submit for your disapproval: Stick Stickly by Attack Attack

Ah screamo. A genre populated entirely by people whose parents don't understand them...probably because they all seem to communicate the same way howler monkeys do. (If you don't know what that sounds like, think tusken raiders from Star Wars). Yes these poor societal misfits deal with all their issues by screaming them into a microphone until they are lightheaded from having screamed so much (you know because that's probably the closest they'll ever get to true happiness or something right?) Well I can appreciate screamo for whatever societal value it provides to our angry adolescent populace, but this song is something else entirely. This time, I'm not only challenging my readers to listen to the whole thing, I'm requiring them to. Seriously, the end makes up for EVERYTHING that the rest of the song puts you through. In fact...the rest of this post is likely going to be a MASSIVE spoiler if you don't listen to the song go do that...I'll wait.

1) Music: This is your usual screamo/hardcore/numetal/whatever you want to call it power chords chug-a-lug nonsense for the most part. But what I love (read as hate) about this song is the random twists they decide to throw in part way through. First, at around 1:43, a classical, undistorted piano arpeggio floats out of the speakers, in sharp contrast to the rest of the song. I'm guessing the poor keyboard player, whose parents no doubt required him to take copious piano lessons as a child (THAT'S WHY HE'S SO MISUNDERSTOOD!!!!) fought tooth and nail for that two second bit so that his years of anguish and strife were worth something in the end. BUT that's not all. That piano riff was but a mere foreshadowing of what was to come.

I'm sure you, like I did when I first heard this song, was taken aback by the major plot twist towards the end. In a move that only M. Night. Shyamalan could have masterminded, Attack Attack decided that the last finishing touch to their opus was about 30 seconds worth of 90's ravepop that Cascada would have been proud to call her own. Now I can appreciate some genre-mashing. In fact I adore Girl Talk and Super Mash Bros. But this is something completely different. This is not the artistic intertwining of two styles to create a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. No this is straight up musical schizophrenia.

2) Vocals: Screaming. That pretty much sums up about 66% of the "vocal abilities" that this band puts on display. And while I'm sure it takes a measure of talent to scream like a hellspawn demon with an atomic wedgie, they are not quite what I would call vocally talented in the most traditional sense. And, seemingly in response to complaints I had not even yet aired, Attack Attack decided to incorporate actual vocals. But, because all the cool kids like T. Paine were using autotune, Attack Attack naturally had to incorporate it, you know because you're not cool unless you do it right? Well what results is yet another schizophrenic, and quite frankly jarring transition between incoherent screaming and whiny autotuned pop punk bitching.

3) Lyrics: Now naturally I had to go and look these things up, and here's where things get REALLY fucking weird. Before I go forward, I'll post some choice lyrics here:

We live for what He's worth,
and thats more than youll know.
He died for what He loved,
and what he loved was you.

Thaaaaaat's right. See how the word "He" is capitalized? Do you know what "He" that is referring to? Did you all come up with the answer "God?" Well you'd be right. I never thought I would ever hear Christian Screamo...nor did I ever even think I would use those words in the same sentence...(except perhaps in the context of "my friend Christian likes screamo". Either way, it's best if you simply don't think about the words too much. Between the religious overtones and the "You never said this would be easy" QQ-ing, there is incredibly little substance to behold.

4) Video: I can ignore the music, I can ignore the schizophrenic style. In fact, all of that I can easily simply chalk up to differences in taste. But nobody, and I do mean NOBODY, can justify the shittiness of this music video. Where to even begin, the same-y haircuts, the synchronized headbanging, the black deep-v shirts and jeans uniform? Ignoring all of that, the single worst part of this music video is the obvious power squat competition that seems to be going on between the members of this band. As the music video continues, the squats get deeper. Honestly, considering the tightness of the pants involved, it's a wonder they didn't suffer some kind of catastrophic testicular damage. Add to that the synchronized running in place and the blond girl who seems ENTIRELY disinterested in being there and you've got a recipe for the an absolutely terrible music video.

5) Summary: I could probably be argued with about a difference in taste accounting for a good amount of my dislike for this song, but the fact of the matter is, this video is simply unspeakably bad. Between the shitty costuming, the awful headbanging and power squat choreography and the blatant overacting on the part of the non scream-y vocalist, tearing at his black v-neck t-shirt as if he was being bitten by thousands of ants. In the end, this is just a terrible experience that I'm sure we would all like to forget.

Suggested Audience: Angsty teenagers who don't really have much of anything to complain about and who are having trouble reconciling their burning need to express their horrible angst and their desire to rock out with the best top 40 poppy nonsense.

...I have serialized dreams...

I love sleep. There's nothing more to that really, sleeping is just awesome and super fun. But I don't really do it for the dreams, in fact, I don't dream that often. (At this point I'm sure all you smart people are plotting to write comments about how everyone dreams and that they just don't remember it when they wake up. But if I don't remember it happening, it didn't happen. That state of mind got me through most of college...) But the dreams that I do have are often quite bizarre...and not even in that riding a unicorn made of cocaine jumping over a double rainbow made of lava while William Shatner chases me naked kind of bizarre. In fact, most of my memorable dreams are, while ridiculous, quite grounded in reality (not that cocaine unicorns and lava rainbows AREN'T real...)

I'll give you an example of one of my most memorable dreams. (This happened years I'm filling in details as I go)

I "woke up" sitting in front of a computer in a classroom of some sort. There is a man in a black suit and black sunglasses at the board and I'm surrounded by people my age. Everyone looks confused as to where they are, and I realize that they were all probably knocked out like me and dragged here. Well it turns out that we're to take part in some secret government program and that we likely wouldn't survive. The monitor flickered to life and a contract popped up, which we were all forced to read. The thing was filled with a ton of "If I die, am horribly maimed, or die later as a result of injury sustained during this activity, I will not hold the government liable" kinds of things, followed by ominous hints that we were very likely going to die. At the bottom of said contract was one button that read "I agree". One person didn't agree, stood up and began protesting. Naturally the floor below his desk dropped out james bond trap door style and he was never seen again (in my dream). After that, pretty much everyone agreed, just to avoid dying right then and there.

After we all agreed, what followed was a series of test rooms, each booby-trapped with lethal traps designed to kill all of us. Punji spike pits, flamethrowers, ceiling panels that fell down and crushed people, you name it, it was there. Naturally, like any good movie hero, I led our group through the perils of each trial trying to make it through and ensure everyone survived. any good dramatic movie, each time we came across a new trial, one member of the group died. any good dramatic group leader, I would take each loss personally, shedding a single tear for the fallen as I forced us to continue forward, vowing that I would properly honor the dead when we all got out alive. Needless to say, I was the only survivor (I don't remember who the last one alive was, but considering how cliche this dream has been so far, chances are it was an incredibly beautiful woman who, over the course of our time in this government death trap, has fallen inexplicably in love with me. It's also very likely that she was hanging onto the edge of some bottomless drop and I had her by one hand as a large metal door was closing, a situation in which she would naturally valiantly sacrifice herself so that I could live and take down the government as revenge for taking her life etc....WOW that was a long side note...) I emerged from the death-obstacle course (deathstacle course?), bloodied and burned, but which point the dark-suited asshole from before pulled a dark bag over my head...and I woke up.

As far as dreams go, not all THAT strange really. In fact, it was incredibly cliche. Here's where it gets kind of weird though. A couple weeks later, I "awoke" in the exact same classroom, with the exact same computer in front of me and the exact same dark suited government son of a bitch in front of me. Again, this wouldn't be so strange except for the fact that I actually REMEMBERED that I had been there. So, with the swagger of a superstar rapper, I signed away my life for a second time and entered the deathstacle course (I'm sticking with that, deal with it). Of course, this time I knew EXACTLY what was going to happen, and I valiantly led my rag tag group of survivors into the fray. This time though, as the inexperienced blithering tards staggered after me, wailing and crying, I did not feel sad at those lost in the deathstacle course, I did not shed a tear. In fact, the fact that they died bothered me. Here I was with important insider information that could ensure that EVERYONE made it out alive, and people were going off, being stupid and dying like morons because they simply refused to listen to me. It was like something out of a bad video game. I was the hero (be it Master Chief or Soap McTavish or some other gritty soldier type) trying to lead my company of soldiers through a heavily conflicted combat zone and my troops were too busy herping and derping about to notice the live grenade that had just plopped amidst the lot of them like the worst kind of turd in a punchbowl. Needless to say I awoke feeling frustrated and upset that my imaginary compatriots would act in such a stupid manner.

Well as if this weren't bizarre enough for you, a couple weeks later, I "awoke" to find myself in that same room yet again. Now I'm sure at this point, you are probably rolling your eyes, dreading my having to tell the same goddamn story one more goddamn time. Well apparently you agreed with me at that very moment, because with the strongest of "wow fuck this shit" attitudes, I flipped my desk (computer and all), punched the government guy in the face and stormed out of the room (through a door that was inexplicably unlocked...I guess we were all just too stupid to try it the first time around). After that, I went and had a coffee and ended up having to steal a super expensive car to try and escape the government helicopters that were chasing after me.

...And that's what I learned today.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Shitty music Special (Part 1)

So this weekend, yet another formulaic teeny pop song has hit the intarwebs, and it got me to thinking, maybe I should write a blog post about all the songs I REALLY dislike, for whatever reason. Now bear in mind, I'm not attacking songs that I simply don't like, I'm attacking songs that I feel are intrinsically stupid. For the slower witted amongst you (which should be rare because all of my readers are wonderful, smart, sharp, quick-witted individuals who all have bright futures ahead of them and I love you all *EDITORS NOTE* It wouldn't let me do a stupid heart...stupid blogspot.) that means I won't say this country song sucks simply because I don't like country. No no, I am talking about music that anyone with ANY sense of musical taste would find disagreeable. So then, now that my disclaimer is out of the way, lets begin.

1st) Friday - Rebecca Black

Once again, here is a challenge to my readers, try and get through the entire video. I can't help but feel as though this is the closest to watching an ACTUAL train wreck in the musical sense as is physically possible. Lets break this down into sections.

1) The background music - So the background music is your typical major chord poppy boppy teeny bullshit, no problems there because there are far more popular songs by far more talented artists that have a very similar style (I'm looking at you Ke$ha *EDITORS NOTE* I originally spelled it with a 3 instead of an E as well...I think I'm going to continue this trend...after all, an artist who uses a dollar sign in place of a letter shouldn't mind me using numbers as well). Never deviating from the key of C Major is a quick way to ensure that you blend in nicely with the rest of the playing field.

2) The Vocals - Now you all should know quite well that I hate all things that have to do with Fran Drescher. That evil woman and her evil accent scarred my childhood to such a degree, that hearing anything reminiscent of it triggers a severe gag reflex within me. Well it doesn't help that Ms. Black seems to have attended Fran's English classes because the voice is EXACTLY THE SAME. I'm sorry, but whatever talent agent found you should have their career ended and their sanity tested because adding music to Fran's voice a good song does not make.

3) They Lyrics - Now everything else I'm typically willing to put up annoying voice (Again, looking at you K3$ha) and poppy music aren't all THAT bad. But here is where I find this song to be the most offensive. I'm sorry, but Ark Music Productions, what kind of third grader do you have writing those lyrics (and doesn't that break some kind of US Child Labor Law?). Let me present you with some choice snippets of lyrics from this song. The "Parytin' Partyin' YEAH" part doesn't bother me that much (again, there are songs out there that do similar shit) it's the next like that bothers me the most. "Fun, fun, fun, fun" Are you fucking kidding me? Were you on some kind of deadline for this song? Did you need to get it done as quickly as possible so that you could turn your singer into some kind of nouveau rick-roll internet meme and cash in on all that fast internet money? Oh...oh I get it....the coke bucket was dry....I see. Best part is, the stupidity of the words don't end there. "Yesterday was Thursday Thursday/Today it is Friday Friday" WELL then. Not only intent on impressing us with her jaw-dropping abilities as a singing corporate puppet, I mean talented artist, Ms. Black also managed to teach us about the days of the week VERY GOOD MS. BLACK. I can see that edumacation you've been getting up for every day is serving you well.

4) IN SUMMARY - All pop music is formulaic. Try and find a pop song that isn't about drinking, sex, spending money, going to clubs and dancing. But this song is formulaic to the point that it quite literally offers us listeners NOTHING good to justify liking the song with (ie She's got a good voice, the beat is great to dance to, some of the lyrics are funny etc.). They pretty much did EVERYTHING in their power to make this song as vomit-inducing as possible. With shitty lyrics, NO meaning and a RANDOM rap interlude featuring a dude who looks like he is about 10 YEARS OLDER THAN THE SINGER AND THE ACTORS/ACTRESSES IN THE MUSIC VIDEO TALKING ABOUT PARTYING WITH THESE KIDS makes for an overall awful experience.

5) Suggested Audience - A neighbor that you REALLY REALLY want dead or committed to a mental institution (warning, you'd better invest in some really solid earplugs or just leave your apartment for a week or so, you don't want this shit backfiring on you).

PS: I want to make this a regular thing, so if you've got suggestions for terrible music, post a youtube link to my twitter or the official TILT facebook page! And if you don't follow me on twitter or haven't liked me on so!
PPS: Regular TILT tomorrow I promise.
PPPS: Ok who managed to actually get through the whole thing?

UPDATE: So I've recently discovered just what it is that ARK music factory does. Apparently they're like glamor-shots, but for music videos. Parents pay thousands of dollars to have their child star in a faux-music video complete with a song written just for them (albeit a SHITTY song), video shoot and production. Apparently Rebecca Black is not actually a singer and she was never scouted. Since her meteoric rise to internet stardom, she has made quite a bit of money on iTunes, which she is reportedly donating to her school and to Japan disaster relief. Bonus points for her! Still the same news source reports that she'll also be coming out with a new song and full album...that makes me shudder a bit...

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

...Root beer floats are amazing...

First off, I'm sick, so you'll all just have to deal with the delirious mess that this post is going to be.

Back when I was a kid, one of my favorite days during the warmer months of the spring was when the elementary afterschool program that I was attending served us root beer floats. Now I refuse to believe that these are not a universal thing, because I feel as though any region without root beer floats should just not exist. But anyways, back in the day, the old ladies who ran the program would give us each a root beer (or orange soda) float, and then let us all run around outside. Naturally on these days, our games of tag, foursquare and house (yes house, because I played nice with all the girls) were particularly vigorous thanks mostly to the massive mainline of sugar that we had each just received. I feel as though perhaps those old ladies loved to watch us tear the playground a new figurative asshole as our sugar-hallucination enhanced creativeness made our airplanes fly higher and our houses grow larger. (The same goes for popsicle day...less so for ritz crackers and cheese day).

Why the fuck am I talking about this nonsense you ask? Well mostly because today at work, we decided, during the absence of our superiors, to make root beer floats (and orange soda floats). After breaking at least two plastic spoons (in our typical "oh shit we got ice cream but forgot an ice cream scoop" crisis), root beer floats were had. And it made me realize just now much I missed that wonderful scoop of ice cream sitting atop a glass of soda. Then, at home, in typical fashion, I just had to know more, because this is one of those food items that I just needed to know who invented.

Well if wikipedia is to be believed, the first root beer float can be attributed to one Mr. Robert M. Green of Philadelphia, PA. Supposedly on one hot day in 1874, Mr. Green ran out of ice for his soda cart, and decided to drop a scoop of ice cream in his flavored soda to keep it cold. Well that is all well and good. Everyone knows that I love that whole "accidental discovery" type of thing. Well here's where it gets strange. According to Mr. Green's personal account in Soda Fountain magazine in 1910, he was working at the Franklin Institute's sesquicentennial (try saying that five times fast) celebration and wanted to upstage a bigger, fancier soda vendor (because the soda wars of the late 1800's were a brutal and bloody affair, many lives were lost, remembered only by the families of those lost...) and so he decided to drop a scoop of ice cream into flavored soda after "experimenting". Supposedly he then sold ice cream soda with your choice of 16 (count 'em 16!) different flavored syrups. Well wikipedia didn't say what came next, but I'm assuming that Mr. Green destroyed the competition, then sealed the deal by leaving a severed horse's head in his competitor's bed, thus sealing his eternal victory in the soda world. Well Mr. Green wasn't quite done yet, according to his will, the words he wanted engraved on his tombstone were "Originator of the ice cream soda", a final move that is obviously the 1900's equivalent of dropping the mic and walking away.

Beyond that, The root beer float was supposedly also the unintended catalyst for the creation of the Ice Cream Sundae. This is due in part to the reputation that sodas held back in the day. Yes bearing in mind that these were the days that people were going around selling snake oils and tonics, billing the oft inert or even poisonous mixtures as cure-alls that would soothe whatever ails ye, sodas apparently also wanted a piece of that magical cure action. Well apparently as with everything awesome, parents were appalled and the government was scared. And when the government gets scared of something, they regulate. Yes they mandated that sodas were not allowed to be sold on sundays...Why? Because you don't want kids drinking too much soda because the FDA hasn't tested the medical effects of FLAVORED SYRUP IN SODA WATER. Well naturally kids back then were flocking to their local soda fountain to get their float fix, and fountains needed to find a way to turn a profit and make the best of their clientele's heroin-like addiction. So they created the sundae (get it...sunday? Sundae?) so that they could make money on the lord's day.

There is one thing during this story that I want to direct your attention to. No it's not the fact that his account of what happened is different from what supposedly happened, no it's not the fact that there are THREE other individuals who claim to have invented the ice cream float (one of whom was actually one of Green's employees), and no it's not the fact that people used to think that soda was a magical curative. No it's more that THEY HAD A SODA FOUNTAIN MAGAZINE BACK THEN! What the fuck?! And I thought we had wayyyy too many magazines that covered WAYYYYY too many topics these days (I mean how many people actually read "Herding Welsh Corgis for profit and for sport quarterly" or "Utilikilts monthly"?). Shit there must be some kind of untapped niche market that I can write to...maybe Ikea cabinet enthusiasts? Or how about people who used to take the tin foil off of their sandwiches and then smash the resulting crumpled ball into a smooth cube. Yeah, that'll make me a fucking billionaire. BBL.

...And that's what I learned today.

Monday, March 14, 2011

PAXEast Special!

Ok so for those of you who are regular readers, you should already know that I'm a pretty huge nerd (that is an individual who is very nerdy, not a physically large fact I'm actually a pretty short nerd...but that's not the point!). So naturally when my friends told me about PAXEast, I had to get my ticket then and there, and barely at that, later that week, PAX tweeted that there were only 1000 3 day passes left....whew. (For those of you who don't know, PAX stands for Penny Arcade Expo, a HUGE video game convention that Gabe and Tycho of Penny Arcade fame put on every year. This is the east coast flavor of the convention that typically only stays in Seattle)

Well this weekend was the big weekend, and needless to say I didn't sleep very much at all. That said, here are a few things I learned AT the expo.

1) Nerds are excitable individuals

Now this generally applies to people gathering in large crowds who are all there for one common purpose (as a student of social psychology, I know that more than anyone) but nerds are a special sub-category of that. Sure if you start chanting "Yankees suck" anywhere in Boston, you're likely to get a rise out of the crowd, but nerds will respond to PRETTY MUCH ANYTHING. There were several times where, randomly in the hallway, someone (typically an enforcer...that's the nerds RUNNING the event) would scream MARCO. And, you guessed it, pretty much everyone in the hall would respond POLO.

Another thing nerds like doing is dressing up. But to a nerd, dressing up (or cosplaying) is far more important that just the costume. Even at PAX (which isn't as crazy about Cosplay as say, Anime Boston) people were not just wearing the costumes, they were playing the characters. Again this didn't occur to the extent of say, a crazy anime nerd, but it still happened. Here's a perfect example, you remember that stupid enemy character in Minecraft I was talking about? The green worm-y thing that chases after you and blows up and generally kills you and causes you to punch your monitor in anger at losing all of your items an hour walk away from the spawn location? Well I was wearing a t-shirt that had that worm's face on it, (I'll post a picture of me wearing it to the TILT Facebook page WHICH YOU SHOULD ALL LIKE ON FACEBOOK!). This character makes an very hideous hissing sound, something like a snake with an old school cartoon bomb fuse in it's mouth. Well I didn't realize that I was wearing a costume, but apparently I was, and this meant that people wandering the con would randomly make hissing noises at me. There was even one dude in the hall who took one look at what I was wearing, and decided the best thing to do was to stop, and begin trying to run past me (as though I was an actual creeper...yes that's what they're called). This was all in good fun and I chased him around a little bit and we high fived and went on our merry way.


No seriously, I'm a swag slut. I love free stuff, no matter how stupid or shitty it is. And PAX is perfect for swag. I stood in line waiting to get into a showing of new information for Portal 2 (one of the games I'm looking forward to MOST this year) and with it came a free t-shirt. AWESOME. I love it. I think all told, I came away with 5 t-shirts, a bunch of brochures two starter packs of magic cards. Awesome.

3) Nerd celebrities are awesome people

One of the biggest things I loved about PAX was being able to hang out with my nerd idols. I don't know what it is, but somehow, internet celebrities are FAR more accessible than real ones. Sure sure they don't make as much money, but in my opinion, the matter to me far more than any hollywood star (except Charlie Sheen...#winning).

My more regular readers know that I play a good deal of videogames, and one of my favorite things to do is watch starcraft 2 replays. Well one of my favorite people to watch is a man named Sean "Day[9] Plott". WELL guess who was at PAX, YUP Day[9] himself. Now you might be wondering, "What's so great about this guy...he just sits in his room and talks about starcraft...he's no William Shatner or Mel Gibson!" Well yes you'd be right in that he isn't crazy and doesn't do mountains of cocaine. BUT that doesn't mean that he is not influential in my life, and thus I treat him like a real celebrity.

Another group I got to see was part of the cast from Loading Ready Run. These guys are a PHENOMENAL sketch comedy group from Victoria, Canada and they're all amazing people. I don't just mean they are hilarious individuals (which they are) but they also care about their fans and are more than willing to interact with them. Unlike with Day[9], the LRR folks actually recognized me. We all went out drinking after their screening on saturday and yours truly valiantly directed the reasonably sized group to the bar in the Westin Hotel attached to the convention center. The next day, Kathleen, one of the cast members, recognized me as we went to play Magic with the LRR cast and fans. This was honestly one of the great highlights of my weekend at PAX. It's such a great feeling when people who you look up to recognize your existence in the world.

...And that's what I learned at PAX

PS: I'll likely write more about this this week because PAX was just THAT big...I mean I'm fairly certain the convention center itself is a re-purposed airplane hangar.

PPS: I'll post pictures of myself with my favorite e-celebs on Facebook. You know what that means? Like my page on Facebook and you'll get to see all this AWESOME EXTRA CONTENT! Do iiiit!

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

...I can be a judgmental person...

I was out with some people for my friend's birthday almost two weeks ago (yes yes yes I know this wasn't TODAY but I only learned this about myself TODAY so it still counts k?). We went to an Irish pub, and I do mean a real Irish pub. Ignoring all of the generic St. Patrick's Day swag that was tacked to the walls and behind the bar, this place felt authentic. It was dark, it was dank and the bartender looked and sounded like Colin Farrell, all of which are HUGE checkmarks under "authentic" for me. Beyond that, they had probably around 20 beers on tap (including Guiness and Magners naturally). After a short amount of time socializing, I heard the ever too familiar sound of a violin tuning. I looked behind me and found that a trio of musicians (two violins and one acoustic guitar) and sneakily situated themselves in a corner booth and were preparing to play (score one for Irish musical ninjas). Tuning complete, the bar was filled with one upbeat, jaunty jig after another. And yes, despite the fact that I had been drinking (what else do you do at a bar???) I actually enjoyed the music and the atmosphere that this touch added to the bar.

Good beer in my stomach and great music in my ears, I was having a great time. I was meeting new people and chatting about the most random of random topics and floundering in merriment and joy. The night was going well when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye but the flash of bleached blonde hair and sequined black dresses. I turn to take in the sight of a pair of girls, dressed for a spot far trendier than this. Let me take you through my thought process at this point.

Oh god it's a couple of club chicks. Don't they know that this is an Irish pub? And not that kind of "hey this is Boston so it should probably be an Irish themed pub, but the Irish part of this won't actually extend any further than the cheap Celtic Knot logo we have on our sign" kind of pub? In fact, what exactly are they doing here? There's no DJ, no patron on the rocks, nobody is making it rain, walking it out, or getting jiggy with it (though I do now recognize the irony of typing the word "jiggy" given the type of music that was being played...but I'll leave it in anyways). There is no DJ to tell to "turn it up", no people to tell to "take it off" so please tell me, exactly where do you think you are and what do you think you are doing here?!

I promptly began basking in my smug satisfaction at having judged them so hard, they would have wished they never came in MY Irish pub to be judged so hard by me. Of course I never said anything out loud TO them...that's just rude. Nah I totally tweeted about dat shit though. Because that will show them who's boss! Well eventually these antics subsided and I went back to my drinks and my friends.

So why am I writing about this now? Well because I, Eric, today came to a horrible realization about all of this. That entire interaction, that I described above, could likely be summed up by the phrase "I was into this place before it was cool". That's right, that encounter was my first, horrible, shaky step down the dark, evil, twisted road of hipsterdom. This encounter at the bar was a test for me, my duel with Darth Vader in the swamps of Dagobah as it were, and like our blond hero, I failed miserably. I took, nay, leapt down the wrong path, the dark path of hatred and anger. It will all be fine though. Though I may have strayed momentarily from the path of the righteous, I know that I will come away unscathed. Do you know how I know? Because of two reasons.

1) I fucking hate PBR
2) Skinny jeans are NOT flattering towards my waifish, girly figure.

...And that's what I learned today.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

...I do strange things around cars...

As if you didn't know that already. But I figured, since I don't have much to write on right now, I'll post a short list of things that I find myself doing that I'm not quite sure if I should be proud of or ashamed of.

1) Making eye contact with drivers

Have you ever been in that situation where you're crossing a crosswalk and you KNOW you don't have enough time to cross but you crossed anyways? When that light turned green and you were still in the middle of the road, what did you do? Did you do what the vast majority of people do? Did you avert your gaze from the traffic you were so boldly denying? Did you simply stare at the ground at place one foot in front of the other? Well not I. Not only do I acknowledge the cars waiting for me as I slowly amble across the street, I make eye contact with the driver. Everyone who simply stares at the ground is choosing to ignore the car that is there, patiently waiting for their ass to get across the street so that that car can legally continue on its merry way. I on the other hand, not only acknowledge the car that is waiting, I issue it a challenge. I lock eyes with that driver as it slowly pulls towards the cross walk as if to say "I dare you sir. I DARE you to drive any closer. I know my rights as an American and it is my RIGHT to walk across this crosswalk and YOU are BOUND BY LAW to stay RIGHT where you are. And if you DARE to hit me...I will...I'll...By golly I'll...punch the hood of your car or something! RAWR!"

It's not as though I don't KNOW that if I were to get into a fistfight with a Ford F150 that I would LIKELY lose, but to me it's like staring down a lion. Boston drivers can smell your fear, and only by intimidating the SHIT out of them will you earn their respect and they won't run you over in cold blood.

2) Strange instincts kick in sometimes

So you already know that I've been training hardcore to become a padiddle champion. But there are some other strange thoughts that occasionally pop into my head when I'm driving along. Mostly, they revolve around cars who are driving down the road, and either through an accidental slip of the hand, body damage or sheer negligence at the pump, the driver of the car has left their gas cap open. Now most people would probably chuckle to themselves and think "Oh you, you are so silly. You silly person. Your gas cap is open. How silly!" and that would be the end of it. Well clearly this twisted mind goes off in an ENTIRELY different direction. My absolute first thought is always and will always be "Fuck if I had a tube and a gas can, I could TOTALLY take all their gas!" Now lets get one thing straight, I would never actually ACT on these thoughts, but they're still there. But the next thought is almost always "Shit...they should really deal with that...someone who isn't nearly as morally upstanding and civically minded such as myself would totally steal all their gas!" And THEN my next thought is "oh god my car's gas cap opens from the outside, someone could totally steal MY gas....FUCK"

By this point, I've already forgotten how I've gotten to this point in my thought process as mild paranoia sets in. Then, as I'm sure just about always happens, something bright and shiny catches my attention, I ADD hard and forget all about it. And like some kind of magical spell, I completely forget about everything that happened, and the cycle repeats itself.

...And that's some of the weird shit that I do.