My Mind on Shuffle

So I’ve been called out.  Swing by Andy’s page to check it out.*  Apparently, there are those among my faithful readership (which I can only assume numbers in the low billions**) who have been displeased by my neglectfulness.  And rightfully so.  If this page were a happy school of goldfish, they would have gone belly-up a couple of weeks ago.  And not from over-feeding or that weird fish-rot disease, but from starvation.  If this page was my child, DCFS would have stepped in and granted custody to my crystal-meth fiend ex-wife***.

Luckily, this page is none of those things.

I have felt remiss recently about my lack of posting diligence, though.  I made a promise to myself when I began this thing that it would not suffer the same fate as my last weblog****.  Besides, I have a responsibility.  Not only to entertain and educate, but to inspire.  If my ramblings can move just one person to decide that David Blaine and Bill Walton do in fact suck, or that gin and brandy are wildly underrated libations or to not, in fact, drink their way to a concussion then I have done my job.  It certainly means more than what I get paid for these days…

So.  While I am not nearly creative or interesting enough to post daily, I pledge to post…well…more at least.  You know, unless I can’t think of anything good.  Or I’m too busy.  Or don’t feel like it.*****

*Yes, I’m still to lazy to link.  Deal with it.

**And by low billions, I’m guessing something like 4,000,000,000 x 10^-9.  That’s right, scientific notation.  And I may have even done it right.

***Please note that neither an ex-wife or children (neglected or otherwise) are actually parts of my life.  Bonus fun fact: crystal meth can be taken anally.

****Something like four posts in a month before it faded into the ether.

*****Thanks to Dawn for the kick in the ass.  Oh, and check out her site.  To the right.  Remember?  No linking here.

You know the drill…

14) For reasons that cannot be explained, cats can suddenly read at a twelfth-grade level.  They can’t talk and they can’t write, but they can read silently and understand the text.  Many cats love this new skill, because they now have something to do all day while they lay around the house; however, a few cats become depressed, because reading forces them to realize the limitations of their existence (not to mention the utter frustration of being unable to express themselves).  That being the case, do you think the average cat would enjoy Garfield, or would cats find this cartoon to be an insulting caricature?

This cartoon is pretty cat-centric in that most of the jokes involve those around Garfield.  I think the most potentially offensive character is Odie, but then, dogs can’t read, can they?

15) You have a brain tumor.  Though there is no discomfort at the moment, this tumor would unquestionably kill you in six months.  However, your life can (and will) be saved by an operation; the only downside is that there will be a brutal incision to your frontal lobe.  After the surgery, you will be significantly less intelligent.  You will have a terrible memory, and you will have little ability to understand complex concepts or difficult ideas.  The surgery is in two weeks.  How do you spend the next fourteen days?

I’d like to say I’d spend them cramming all the literature and intelligent discourse I could into my remaining time as an intelligent being.  However, this would ultimately be wasted after the surgery.  That being the case, I’d spend the time hitting up bars with my brain tumor story fishing for pity fucks.

16) Someone builds an optical portal that allows you to see a vision of your own life in the future (it’s essentially a crystal ball that shows a randomly selected image of what your life will be like in twenty years).  You can only see into this portal for thirty seconds.  When you finally peer into the crystal, you see yourself in a living room, two decades older than you are today.  You are watching a Canadian football game, and you are extremely happy.  You are wearing a CFL jersey.  Your chair is surrounded by books and magazines that promote the Canadian Football League, and there are CFL pennants covering your walls.  You are alone in the room, but you are gleefully muttering about historical moments in Canadian football history.  It becomes clear that – for some unknown reason – you have become obsessed with Canadian football.  And this future is static and absolute; no matter what you do, this future will happen.  The optical portal is never wrong.  This destiny cannot be changed.  The next day, you are flipping through television channels and randomly come across a preseason CFL game between the Toronto Argonauts and the Saskatchewan Roughriders.  Knowing your inevitable future, do you know watch it?

No.  Cause the Roughriders fucking suck.

This little list comes to us courtesy of Forbes.com (by way of The Sports Guy.  What, you thought I actually read Forbes?).

9. Providence, R.I.: Clearly we’re dealing with a rate based measurement here, as I don’t think that Rhode Island would make the list if their entire state was full of alcoholics.  I also imagine that an unusually large number of drinks consumed in this city are cosmos, or white russians or the such.*
9. Philadelphia: Seriously?  We have a tie?  C’mon Philly, you have to wash those cheese steaks down with something, right?
 

8. Pittsburgh: Our first recurring state.  Kudos to you Pennsylvania.  Your Quaker founders would be proud.  As John Penn said, “Fuck the Puritans!”
7. Cleveland: Apparently, in addition to rocking, Cleveland also mixes in a healthy dose of boozing.  Which is probably the only way reproduction is possible.**
6. Chicago: I haven’t been this proud since I learned that Valpo was once rated one of America’s top party schools.  Of course that was more depressing than proud, given the current state of affairs.  At any rate, I’m glad we made this list.  But I think we could do better.  So when you go out this week, throw back an extra shot or two.  Just to really show Cleveland what’s what.  Also, now’s a good time to recognize the fact that New York is not present on this list (hope I didn’t spoil the surprise).  That’s right, take it, New York, take it right in your self-righteous, we think we’re so cool, ass (and if you haven’t gotten it from previous entries, in many cases drunkenness = coolness or at least funness, is that so wrong?).***
5. Austin, Texas: Here’s our first city based almost exclusively on it’s student population.  I believe UT also topped the party schools list this year.  Coincidence?  I think not.
4. Boston: Reason #16 why Boston is my personal sister city.
3. Columbus, Ohio: College town #2 on our list.  Like Cleveland, but with a better football team.
2. Minneapolis-St. Paul: Because, sweet Jebus, what else are you going to do there?

And finally, topping this year’s list:
1. Milwaukee: It’s the beer capital of America.  It’s full of people of German/Polish descent.  You can get many quality beer related foods (i.e. various encased meats).  There’s a surprisingly quality downtown with no shortage of bars.  What’s not to like?  Oh.  Right.  Wisconsin.  Well, at least you’re not too far from Chicago. 

*Let’s just say that Providence would rate a little higher, were we listing cities based on rainbow bumper stickers or George Michaels enthusiasts.

**Have you been to Ohio?  (Particularly Cleveland.)

***Also notably absent: New Orleans.  If there’s anywhere with both the opportunity and the excuse…

Chandler: What is it?  Is it my hair?

Rachel: (sarcastically) Yes, you have gay hair.*

Much to my chagrin, I find that my “lifestyle choice” or “sexuality”, if you will, come into question far more often than I believe is necessary.  Before we launch into this discussion let me say that A) No, I am not gay, 2) there really isn’t anything wrong with that, either way.**  That being said, here are just a random sampling of the times that I have personally found my own lifestyle called into question.***

• Dining with a group of friends at a Chinese joint in Valpo, Roommate and I decided to order two dishes and share them.  This devolved into bickering over chow mein vs. lo mein, etc.  Our (very hot) waitress seemed somewhat off-put by our discussion.  To mollify her, we informed her that, “It’s okay, we live together.”  She made the big, “Okay now I get it” smile, and we got on with our dinner.  Only later did we realize how uber-gay we came off in this whole exchange.

• A fellow Valpo student’s wife was taken aback when she saw me holding hands with my girlfriend and asked her husband what the deal was.  He couldn’t understand what her problem was to which she responded, “Isn’t he, you know, gay?  I mean, he always dresses so well.”

• Another Valpo person (again, a vaguely hot girl; why do the hot ones always have to get the wrong idea?) questioned whether or not Andy and I were a couple.

• The creepy, lazy-eyed janitor at my first teaching job approached me after school one day.  “Can I ask you a personal question?” he said.  That was warning bell number one.  What possible personal question could be coming from this guy who I barely knew/interacted with?  Sure enough, he wanted to know if I was, you know, gay.  He was fine with it of course, and I got the vague sense that he was somewhat hitting on me.  Yikes.

• A student at my second teaching job left me a note on my desk to the effect of: “Dear Mr. Medcalf,  Are you gay?  I only ask cause some other kids said you were and I told them you weren’t.  So I was just wondering.  Write me back and let me know.  Your student, XXXXX.”  Only with more spelling errors and painful seventh grade grammar.  That made for a fun little discussion the next day.

I really wish I had a good explanation for this.  I like to take the angle of the aforementioned friend’s wife and write it off to being well dressed.  Clearly that can’t be the only thing though right?  In the grand scheme of things, it’s really not a big deal, although it’s somewhat unsettling to get approached about it this often.  I mean, I do subscribe to Esquire and GQ, but I also get SI and ESPN, and how would these people know that anyway?  I think it’s just become some sort of societal construct.  The fact that I’m polite, well-spoken, fashionable, young and single seems to mean that there’s at least a fifty-fifty shot that I dig dudes.  Maybe I should bathe less or something.****

The moral of the story?  Ladies, despite any “vibes” you may think you’re getting, no, I am not into guys.  I am into you.  Unless you’re skanky.  Or dumb.  Or a whole list of other things.  But at least I’m into your gender.

*You were all ready for a Seinfeld quote from the title now weren’t you?

**I’m not trying to make any sort of political/moral statement here one way or another.  Basically, what (or whom) you do is your business.

***That I know about.

****No I shouldn’t, that’s gross.

And I’m back.  For the record, I survived my 25th and even achieved a little gainful employment before it occured.  So even if I was extremely single, living at home, etc. when it hit, at least I was employed.  Granted, they f-ed up my paper work, so I have yet to get paid, but hey work is work, right?  In addition, I finally got the spark of inspiration I’ve been waiting for to start writing a screenplay.  No I won’t tell you.  You worthless, anonymous internet bastards will rip me off!  I will only tell you that this idea is A) epic, 2) awesome and 3) also Roommate’s idea.  So I don’t need any more collaborators, but thanks for asking.  I also got a chance to meet The Baby.  Have you met a baby lately?  Here’s my reaction (AnK, take no offense, this is all about me, and nothing about Wesley in particular).  First off.  It’s weird to refer to a Baby by it’s name.  Don’t ask me why.  It’s really probably pretty normal.  For me, a little strange.  Two: babies weird me out a little.  Part of this is because I haven’t been up close and personal with a baby in a long-ass time.  AnK won the pregnancy race out of all my friends and my youngest cousin is only about nine years younger than me.  I don’t know how to act around them.  I’m afraid I’ll break them somehow.  At any rate, despite previous rants regarding my five year plan, I’m clearly in no way ready to spawn on my own.

Now that that’s out of the way… Here’s another installment of the ever-popular (although I’ve been receiving an increasing number of jell-o shot related hits lately) Chuck Klosterman series.  The italics are all ripped off, blahbity blahbity blah, all copyright information cited previously.  And now, on with the show…

11) You are watching a movie in a crowded theater.  Though the plot is mediocre, you find yourself dazzled by the special effects.  But with twenty minutes left in the film, you are struck with an undeniable feeling of doom: You are suddenly certain your mother has just died.  There is no logical reason for this to be true, but you are certain of it.  You are overtaken with the irrational metaphysical sense that – somewhere – you mom has just perished.  But this is only an intuitive, amorphous feeling; there is no evidence for this, and your mother has not been ill.  Would you immediately exit the theater, or would you finish watching the movie?

Finish the movie for the following, terribly callous, reasons:

1) I don’t trust my “feelings” that much.  My feelings tell me things like, “the only way people could think you were funnier now is if you got even more wasted and stupid” or “you need to finish having kids by the time you’re thirty”.  Screw my intuition.

2) This is a movie theater movie.  If I walk out, I probably won’t catch the end until it comes out on dvd and they always leave the best effects for the end.

3) If my mom does happen to be dead, what am I going to do about it in those twenty minutes I save by leaving early?  If she’s not, I’ll feel bad about being secretly pissed that I left the movie for nothing.

12. You meet a wizard in downtown Chicago.  The wizard tells you he can make you more attractive if you pay him money.  When you aks how this process works, the wizard points to a random person on the street.  You look at this random stranger.  The wizard says, “I wll now make them a dollar more attractive.”  He waves his magic wand.  Ostensibly, this person does not change at all; as far as you can tell, nothing is different.  But – somehow – this person is suddenly a little more appealing.  The tangible difference is invisible to the naked eye, but you can’t deny that this person is vaguely sexier.  This wizard has a weird rule, though – you can only pay him once.  You can’t keep giving him money until you’re satisfied.  You can only pay him one lump sum up front.  How much cash do you give the wizard?

My net worth minus expenses for the next two weeks.  A) I need all the help I can get.  2) Everything is easier/better when you’re hot.  Right?

13. Every person you have ever slept with is invited to a banquet where you are the guest of honor.  No one will be in attendance except you, the collection of your former lovers, and the catering service.  After the meal, you are asked to give a fifteen-minute speech to the assembly.  What do you talk about?

At the risk of sharing too much personal information, I justify why I rented out a banquet hall and hired caterers for me, myself and I.*

*Check it out, I made it all the way through without footnoting… Oops…

Have you heard this term before?  Quarterlife Crisis?  It’s my generation’s answer to the midlife crisis, only it hits in the 20’s.  It’s a legitimate social phenomenon, based on the whole college/job atmosphere, changing expectations, etc.  You can learn more about the details elsewhere.  I’m mostly interested in bitching about my life.

Here’s my month: friends (one younger than me) have baby; other friend gets married; I turn 25.  These are really individually all causes for celebration.  I couldn’t be happier for AnK, as witnessed by previous post.  I’m definitely looking forward to Pete’s wedding this weekend.  All of my friends’ weddings have been awesome (this is the fourth in a year and a half).  My birthday I’m far less excited for, and not only because 25 is looking down the barrel at thirty.  The real problem with this is how far off I am on my life goals/plan*.

For a moment let’s ignore the fact that I’m currently unemployed, looking at changing career paths and living with my parents (those are all depressing enough on their own).

My original life plan looked like this (counting backwards):

Age 30: Have final kid.  This allows me to not be an old parent.  I would like to not be fifty when my youngest graduates high school.  There’s lots of reasoning behind this (my parents are young, I want to be able to do stuff with them without being too crotchety, etc.).

Age 28-29: Have initial child/ren.

Age 26: Get married.  This allows me to have a couple years of marriage without worrying about the whole kids thing.

Age 24-25: Meet my future wife (if I hadn’t already).  Figuring at least a year of dating/engagement/etc. before marriage.

For this to all work out, I need to meet my wife, oh, right about nowish.  This is complicated by the life situation outlined and summarliy ignored above.  I’m just poorly situated for dating at the moment (never mind my freakishly small circle of-local-friends and outrageously lame social life).  Needless to say, I’ve been on minor level freak-out about this since my buddies started getting married last year.

Ok, that was a little personal for this forum, but heck, if you know me, you’ve heard this before and if you don’t, then who cares, right?

Moral of the story: to my friends – slow down already!  To the single ladies: now accepting applications!  (Not that I’m desperate or anything, clearly…)

*The more realistic/rational/legitimate one, not to be confused with the previously listed life goals.  Not that those aren’t important as well…

Earlier this week (Tuesday to be precise), my friend and frequently referenced partner in webloggin, Andy and his wonderful wife had a baby!*  This is marvelously exciting.  Wesley Chibe Davis, welcome to the world little buddy.  I look forward to many years of being your cool non-related "uncle" that teaches you all the things your parents wish I wouldn't (just kidding, AnK!).  Additionally, you should know that, in my head, I've been calling you Wally all week (in honor of former Carolina Panthers tight end Wesley Walls).  Maybe it'll catch on!**  Congrats to all those involved.

*I hope by waiting till the end of the week, those of you that he would have hoped to tell himself have already heard. 

**Again, to both Andy and Kristin, I have no intention to rename and corrupt your baby.