Thursday, July 28, 2011

Not meant to be funny. Just an observation.


Apparently I’ve gotten old.  I didn’t even realize when the transition occurred, but I’m confident it’s happened.  When you’re young, you look at your parents and think “there’s no way they were ever cool.”  Then as you get older, you hear them tell radical stories of their youth and ask yourself “Well, when did you decide to give up on having fun?”  I understand now.  It’s not as if you break down and tell yourself that you have to hang up your hat.  It’s a slow fade that goes mostly unnoticed. If you’re like me, you have a moment in time that you have a self evaluation and come to the conclusion:   well…apparently I’ve gotten old.  There was no greater example of this realization than this past weekend.

I have a core group of guy friends that try to get together as often as possible to hang out.  Some of the guys I’ve been friends with since elementary school.  The group grew in numbers in both junior high and high school.  Four of us all went to college together and were roommates and housemates.  We picked up a few extra guys in college to complete the man-group.   There are about 8 of us total.  Like most college guys, we did STUPID things constantly.  I can truly say if not for the protection of God, we would all mostly likely be dead. 
Examples: 
-There were times where we were driving down the interstate and one of us would hang out the window and try to open up the door to the car next to us.  Aw, dude, you almost had it, try again!  Look at the expressions on their faces… priceless.

-Going down the interstate and need a CD, but the guys in the car next to you have the CD… not a problem.  Edge your cars close enough to each other and pass it across.  Slow down you ask?  No.. Make it happen at 75mph.

-We built a potato gun that was incredible, but we didn’t want to fire it outside cause we lived in a neighborhood.  SO, we got a pizza pan and taped it to the bathroom door.  The plan was that we would use a ball of wet paper towels as our first bullet.  The THEORY was that we would fire the ball of wet paper towels at the bathroom door and have the pizza pan catch it.  What we didn’t realize was the FORCE the wet paper towels would have when shot out of a potato gun.  When it hit the pizza pan, it bent the pan into a bowl and shot the pan through the bathroom door, hitting the cabinets in the bathroom and breaking them into shards.  In-credible!  Let’s do it again.  You’d think that we would have taken the hint, but nope.  We shot it through the bathroom door about 20 more times.  There was a giant 3 foot hole in the door by the time we got done.  No worries.  We just hung a towel up over the hole.  Hey, we were five guys in a one bathroom house.  Privacy?  Overrated.

-We lived on a VERY steep hill, I would say probably 40-45 degree decline.  One day we decided that we needed to see if you could make it down the hill in an office chair.  The thing is, you could make it MOST of the way down the hill, but at some point you would be traveling too quickly for the tiny office chair wheels to keep up, so you’d go tumbling over in a crash suitable for nascar.   The goal was to make it farther down the hill before you crash than the other guys did.  Stupid, but FUUUUN.

Anyway, during college and slightly post-college we would get together for “Man trips” or “Man weekends.”  The goal was to find new and more ridiculous things to do.  This came easy with the amount of alcohol that was consumed during these trips.  One time we went to a local bar and by the time we left our bar tab was 1400 dollars.  To this day we can’t understand how some of us didn’t die.  By the end of the night the shots were just straight Wild Turkey and Vodka.  (And that was without my addition to the tab, as I had stopped drinking alcohol after college).  Guys would take a shot, SLAM the shot glass down on the table, make a “Tim the tool-man” kinda yell and demand to know what’s next.  One guy always ended up without a shirt somehow, one guy would unnecessarily curse all the time, one guy would throw up no matter what.

But NOW.  Now our man-trips are completely different.  We’re all married and most of us have AT LEAST one kid.  Now instead of going to concerts and possibly getting in a fight, we go tubing down a lazy river.  In place of the conversations about the hot chicks we met, it’s about our kids or our 401K.  “Yeah, she just learned to crawl.  It’s the cutest thing ever.”  “Your son looks just like you, man.”  “Oh, we’re thinking of having kids within the year or so.”  “Well my company will match my 401K contribution up to 6… “Really man, ours only matches up to 4.. You got it good.” 

Most of us don’t have the quintessential cigar because our wives don’t like us to stink when we come home.  Before it would be around 11 o’clock before we even left to go out.  NOW by the time its 11 o’clock, some of us start fading and yawning.   No one is willing to go to bed first for fear of being made fun of, but pretty much everyone is thinking about it.    When we go to the token bar, everyone just has a couple beers rather than 15 beers a piece.  In place of straight vodka, the shots are mainly fruity and have really feminine names.  “We’ll have seven apple plinkies, please.”   No one throws back the shot and yells out anymore.  It’s more like a slow sip and then gently setting the shot glass down, hoping and begging no one orders another. 

We all want to seem like we haven’t changed, but the reality is that we have.  Before it was more important to DO something crazy, but now it’s fun just to hang out with those guys. The old cliché is true, it doesn’t matter what you do so long as you like the people you’re doing it with.   It’s kinda funny to think that one day my son is going to grow up and think that his dad is SUCH a BORING guy…   Son, I’m not boring, I just decided to give my guardian angel a much needed break.

Monday, July 11, 2011

M-PMS

I am currently having MPMS (male PMS).  People say men can’t have PMS, but they’re wrong.  Men may not go through the physiological cycle, but they clearly go through the emotional cycle.  I’m not talking about crying during a commercial about Huggies pull ups (although the only commercial where a man is allowed to cry is that commercial with the homeless dogs and cats where Sarah McLaghlin is singing in the background… that commercial is BRUTAL).  I’m talking about the “I'm MEAN, everyone is STUPID, give me CHOCOLATE or get out my way” kind of cycle.  I totally understand “that time of the month” now.  There is NOTHING you can say that will make me feel better.  I just want to be alone. 

The following things have bothered me today:

1.)    The overuse of LOL.  Do people not understand what that means?  It means laugh out loud.  Which further means that something has caused you to literally laugh audibly.  It does not signify the end of a sentence.  I.e. I just finished a sentence, LOL.  There is NOTHING funny about that… If I see people use this on facebook on something that isn’t funny, or can’t be misconstrued as funny, I hide them or delete them as friends. 

I need a vacation, LOL.   (you are now hidden)
I just ate lunch, LOL.   (you are now hidden)
I’m so tired, LOL   (you are deleted as a friend)
My dog is barking, LOL  (we were never friends, the only reason I accepted your friend request was because we went to the same high school and have 32 friends in common, but I don’t know who you are, goodbye)

I have decided to write out that I’m laughing.  “Man that was funny.  I laughed audibly.”  Yes, it takes away from the humor of the moment.  But outside of calling you and letting you hear me laugh, I don’t know what to do. 

2.)    Old men bother me.   I don’t know when the disconnect happens where you don’t care about social norms, but I don’t want to get that old.  Old men do things that are completely unacceptable but people let it go because they’re old.  I don’t like public bathrooms in general.  If I’m there, I don’t want to be there for long.  I’m like the navy seals of bathrooms.  I want to get in, handle business, and get out before anyone knows I was there.  I do NOT want to linger.  I do NOT want to have conversation.  If I walk in and see someone’s feet under the stall, I will leave and come back later.  I don’t care how many stalls there are.  If ONE stall is occupied, the whole bathroom is occupied as far as I’m concerned.  I WISH old men would do the same.  NOPE…  In the brief time I’m there, someone will come in and sit in the stall next to me and unleash hell.  DUDE…seriously… wait literally two minutes and you can have this WHOLE PLACE to yourself.  But now it’s all about you cause I clearly can’t go anymore.  And now I have to wait it out, which only makes this whole awkward situation worse.  And it sounds like you’re having to strain, which means this situation wasn’t based on necessity as much as it was you just WANTING to do this NOW…  Did you just get on your phone?!?  What the heck?!  BRO, there’s SOMEONE ELSE IN HERE, or did you not see the shoes in the stall next door???    I hate you.

They must teach this disregard for bathroom etiquette at the same place they teach the “naked single leg-hike” for locker room benches, as every old man seems to know this faux pas too.

3.)    The phrase “That’s NOTHING!  Normally, this phrase doesn’t bother me terribly.  But today….today I can’t take it.  Today my MPMS is acting up.  My nerves is bad…  I could tell a story about how I bought a painting of an old woman sitting in a chair reading a book.  Then tell of how I accidentally dropped the painting while loading it into my car and tore the canvas.  It was then that I realized behind the canvas was a copy of the United States Constitution and a map of where Jimmy Hoffa was buried.  Odd right??  Regardless, at the conclusion of my story, I will hear those heinous words shouted emphatically by the “one upper,” as he is called.  He will then tell a story which attempts to best my torn painting/ Constitution story.  “No kidding, you once found $20 in the parking lot of Wal-Mart?  That’s cool…And clearly better...”  Most times though, his story has NOTHING to do with what we were talking about and totally kills conversation.  

Females say they get bloated during this time.  I totally get that too. Mine is mainly because I’m an angry eater.  When I’m frustrated I eat everything I see.  The problem, albeit cyclical, is that somewhere in the midst of eating everything I see is that I get mad at myself for eating so much.   But again, I’m an angry eater.  This leads to me getting mad at myself and eating more. 

The best/worst decision I’ve made about “that time of the month” was to start keeping track of my co-workers cycles.  I would make a notation in my phone about the “crankiness” of my co-workers and see if it correlated roughly 28 days later.  When it did, I would make a little star and begin keeping track. 
(I’m a scientist, so I considered this an experiment)  

 Not surprisingly, the females at my work all seemed to hit the week at the same time.  “Sync-ing” is what they called this anomaly…  The men at the lab referred to it as “HELL WEEK.”  Some poor male co-worker would come stumbling in after being reamed by some females and wonder what just happened to him.  I then checked my phone and told him he shouldn’t take it personal… It’s “that time” for her.  You could see the panic and confusion leave his face…   My former manager heard that I had such a chart and asked if it could be shared with other men for the benefit of the lab.  There’s where it went wrong… Once the females found out such a chart existed, the gig was up.  We were all dead (Even though they were totally impressed on the accuracy of the chart).  I tried to convince them that this was advantageous to ALL, but it didn’t work.  What was funny is that EVERY FEMALE I’ve EVER MET has said “aww, you can’t even tell when I’m on mine… I don’t get moody like other girls.”   Oh really?  Lemme check my phone…. You are on the 11th this month, correct?  I would usually get replies like “How tha…?  I mean…, Paul, You’re such a JERK!” 

Hey, don’t mess with the science… 

Arg, for some reason I want a chocolate chip cookie.