A New Blog for 1-1-11

A new blog (oh, why the hell not?) for a new year. But, I'm going to talk about an age old topic long analyzed by hack stand up comedians and talk show hosts from the 80's. Men and women. Specifically, how we communicate...or more accurately, how we don't, and why there is very little use in trying. Let me proselytize here (as if you could stop me).

Let's use the data set of "X" and "Y" for simplicities sake. It does not matter what "X" and "Y" stand for or what they are (a woman would probably tell you it matters very much what "X" and "Y" is, whereas a guy can live with the fact it "is what it is"). If a conversation were to take place between a man or a woman over "X" and "Y" it might go something like this:

Woman: Is it "X" or "Y"?
Man: It's "Y".

Boom. Done. Information disseminated and conversation moving on to other topics. Well, in the man's world this is what's happening, but the woman's head is racing because the conversation SHOULD have gone something like this if the roles were reversed:

Man: Is it "X" or "Y"?
Woman: (25 minute preamble on why it's important to understand the differences between "X" and "Y"; why you need to "feel" the difference between the wildly divergent properties of "X" and "Y"; why it should be IMPORTANT to YOU the very real upsides and downsides to "X" and "Y"; her personal opinions on the merits of "X" vs. "Y"; why her friend Jennifer is such a bitch; her crazy mother's phone conversation with her earlier that day; don't piss her off because she's having a bad hair day ((you've failed to be able to tell the difference)); how come you're not wearing that shirt she bought you?; she is unhappy with the size of her ass ((somehow that came up...again)); why are you bothering her with "X" and "Y" anyways since you OBVIOUSLY DON"T CARE; and she'd like to know how YOU FEEL about "X" and "Y" before she answers your question because she needs all the pertinent information before she commits to an answer) It's 3 o'clock (that was her answer).

Now, the man has no idea why his question was answered with a completely different topic than the question he asked. Somewhere in minute 17 of her answer he got lost, and started wondering if that movie they're going out to see later has any nudity in it.
He will now get in trouble for not paying attention to her answer, and be accused of not having any feelings. Which is true. We don't. We're men. The only feelings we have are hunger, horniness, occasional fits of rage and anger, and merriment and laughter at the misfortune of others. That's it. And, if the guy is 41 yrs old like me, even the horniness isn't the overriding thing it used to be when he was, say, 21. Generally, a good nights sleep, a really cold beer and his teams game televised in hi-def on the tube has displaced that particular lizard brained urge (which, by the way, has made life immeasurably easier). So, somewhere along the line you will apologize for not listening appropriately, and never really know if it were "X" or "Y", and the woman will have accomplished her goal of keeping you in a constant daze of confusion. But there is hope.

And what is that hope you ask yourself? Age. You see, as a man gets older, we loosen that death grip on the need to be right, and have EVERYBODY know it. You hit your 40's, and are quite comfortable knowing you're right, or, if you're wrong, not really caring. Just smile, nod your head, enjoy your beverage, and be dazzled at the wonderment of your team rendered with such crispness on your widescreen (this can also be substituted or accompanied by really good high fidelity audio equipment...the kind of stuff where you are mesmerized by the clarity of the hi-hat and can hear the 5% delay added to the crash cymbal...and the infinitesimal percussive tick of a finger tip on an open E-string. Some of you will know what I mean).

My second rate supermarket is a first rate radio station

I have ranted in the past about the dearth of good, hip, cool, tasteful, relevant or progressive music radio stations. It seems as if the only thing you can hear now is talk, sports, news, top 40, r&b, rap/hip hop, and hard rock. That's it. Oh, and Spanish language...which I'm sure is even transmitted to the surface of Mars. Anyways, most radio stations in California (and I have lived and/or worked in every region of the state) suck. Balls. Majorly. It is an endless source of frustration for me, and what eventually drove me to purchase an iPod large enough to put my musical collection on, so I could hear it in my car. I had given up on the idea that a radio station was going to play me good, or introduce me to new, music. But check this out: My local and closest supermarket plays really good alternative/Brit pop ALL THE TIME. You know how most stores have this pumped in muzak stuff? My local Save Mart (which I only go to when I'm too lazy to drive the extra mile to the Vons that has a better selection of foodstuffs) has played the following bands on its store sound system: The Catherine Wheel/Rob Dickinson, The Doves, Supergrass, The Style Council, REM, Ride, The Stone Roses, The Pixies, The Police, Johnny Marr, Crowded House...and those are the ones I can think of off of the top of my head. Are you kidding me? You can't even hear this stuff on the college radio station here! The supermarket? Save Mart? REALLY? That is so sad when a town's food store is its bastion of indie/college/ alt. rock. It has also introduced me to new music as well, something that hasn't happened in FOREVER as a result of over the air radio. Yesterday I was buying some things to make our traditional humongoid family breakfast, and I heard this perfect little pop ditty on the speakers in the produce section (gots to have my Fuji apples). I had never heard it before, and it literally stopped me in my tracks to try and discern its lyrics. I memorized a few lines, went home and Googled it, and through the magic of iTunes, found it. Unbelievable. And by sampling that song, it turned me on to another band I had never heard of whose music resonated with me. Wow. My local grocery store turns me on to music in a way that the actual music industry itself has failed at for the last fifteen years or so. There's just something inherently hysterical about that.

Other things that bounced through my head as I pushed my cart along the grocery aisles:

-I wonder why most of us don't party like we did when we were younger? I mean we can, and sometimes DO (I had an experience at a football game last fall that was reminiscent of my best/worst 19 year old behavior), but something seems to fade that demands we tie one on every weekend, Thursday, every other Tuesday, and dollar beer Mondays at the local dive. I went to a Super Bowl get together tonight and had some beers. Caught a slight buzz and had good conversation and laughs. Good times. But back in the day, that vibe would have been "Time for me to really get my drink on!" Tonight the vibe was "Hmmmm....kinda drowsy...need to think about going home...sleep sounds gooooood right now." Plus, I was feeling kinda inflated by the beer. Why is that? At 20 years old you could drink a 12 pack and still wolf down an entire meal. Now? Four Newcastles and you skip the meal for fear of exploding. And sleep? I can remember partying literally until sunrise, sleeping for an hour, showering, then going to school/work...and then doing it all over again THAT NIGHT. I dunno. I think a certain gene kicks in that regulates these things. I think it's the same one that also makes us file our taxes on time and keep our pool clean.

-I never seem to completely finish a pot of coffee. Ever. And I love coffee like others love soda, Jesus, whiskey, or cocaine and strippers. Seriously. There's always that unconsumed 1/4 of an inch in the pot whenever I go to make a new pot. Why is that? People always finish their soda. God knows a drunk polishes off his whiskey. But never the coffee for me. And it doesn't matter how much I make. Two cups, twelve cups...same result. 1/4 of an inch left over. If you added all those leftover dregs up, its probably about a pot a month. And good coffee is expensive. Not un-prescribed oxycontin or hydrocodone expensive (not that I would, you know...."know" about that), but it ain't cheap. Personally I think it is some sort of subliminal sacrifice to the great coffee goddess Insomnia (who I picture is a goddess dressed in a bathrobe, bags under her eyes, hair frazzled, a little twitchy, and clutching a steaming mug of java. She of course magically transforms into a breathtaking vision of loveliness...but only after that morning cup).

-if you ever lose a grandparent, or other elderly loved one, do not fret. I will find them for you. Just let me know they are missing, and I'll get straight to work. All I have to do is be in a hurry, and at the grocery store. They will immediately magically appear in front of me either pushing a cart slower than a snails pace right down the middle of the aisle with no hope of passing them on either side, or be arguing with the cashier about an expired coupon while writing a check for the wrong amount. I have guaranteed results and charge a reasonable finders fee. Just let me know.

Energy Beer

Energy beer?
So this guy tells me he's been drinking "energy beer". I think it was called Sparks...or something like that. Energy beer? Really? Wow...let's break this down, shall we?First of all, apparently this is beer laced with lots of caffeine. OK. Now, to state the obvious, caffeine is a stimulant, right? A beer is a depressant, right? So what have we got with energy beer? A company that has finally, FINALLY, had the balls to legally market a speedball. Congrats. Society has evolved. Hey, why bother with all that heroin and cocaine (or methamphetamine...your call) when you now can get the same thing in a 16oz beverage from the cold case at 7-11? Now you can be shitfaced drunk, AND wired. Awesome. Because, let's face it, if there's something we all want, it's a drunk with lots of energy to just keep on talking! At least with good old beer, at some point they get drowsy and go look for a nice garage floor to take an impromptu "nap" on. 'Ya know?

Anyway, "energy beer" is a total oxymoron anyway. It flies in the face of what beer is all about. Beer has done many a thing to me, but filling me with vim and vigor is not one of them. What beer does is eventually make your sofa look like the most awesome place to be EVER...and once on it, you will strongly consider the idea that you may never want to leave it ever again. Except to urinate...but thats it. So, anywhoo, beer in any form has never inspired me to great heights of manic energy. It HAS however, inspired other things. Here's a short, but by no means, complete, list of such beer fueled inspirations:

-talk much louder than need be. In fact, talk much louder than need be if a 747 jumbo jet was firing up its engines right next to me.
-eat three plates of fried food at 3am.
-laugh at inappropriate things. Laugh at appropriate things. Laugh at everything. Laugh at the fact that I'm laughing...and so on...
-make sexual suggestions to inappropriate people. Make inappropriate sexual suggestions to appropriate people.
-turn the act of lovemaking into such an arduously long affair that even I lose interest in whats going on and start thinking "for the love of god can't we just get this over with?"
-forget that women don't find intestinal gas funny.
-tell obscene jokes (although funny).
-suddenly realize theres no need to urinate in the toilet when theres a perfectly lovely patio and shrubs to fill this task...bonus is lots of friendly people to talk to as you whiz.
-get waaaay too into sports...even ones I dont care about, i.e. suddenly have an opinion about the internal politics of the Latvian badminton team.
-began to realize that despite my first impressions of when I walked into the bar, party or whatever, every single woman in the place, all of them, are kinda hot. Why didnt I notice this before????
-say EXACTLY whats on my mind. This of course has repercussions.
-realize there isn't a form of music I dont like. Romanian hill music as realized through the marriage of Jamaican steel drums and the pan flute performed by Kenny G? Crank it up baby!!!
-think I'm much better looking, interesting, and charming than I actually am...and decide I have a real shot at that Brazilian swimsuit model who is at the bar signing autographs.
-not realize my fly is open...then realize it...and not care.
-if I'm channel surfing and Tombstone is on, and even though I have the DVD and can watch it any old time, and it doesn't matter if its 4am, I will have to stop and watch it (sorry...I like Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer was the shit in that movie...).
-same goes with Pulp Fiction, Caddyshack, Good Fellas, The Big Lebowski, the first two Pink Panthers, and a bunch of others actually...There's more of course, but you get the idea...none of it is exactly in the realm of 'perky'!