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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Secret's Safe

The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of the delightfully bizarre. My grandmother came to town and said a lot of hilarious things like "we used to fondue all the time until you were born and ruined everything." A crazy woman kidnapped my sister's dog, held the dog in a basement for a while, then gave her back offering the phrase "you might want to loosen the collar a little bit" as an excuse for dog theft. I went to a vegetarian barbecue with a guy who built a big honkin camera out of a muthafuckin truck, that guy's brother who is a comic book inker (NOT a tracer...seriously don't even make the tracer joke IT WILL NOT BE WELL RECEIVED!!!!), the girl with the best awkward childhood picture the world wide web has ever seen, and her main squeeze who sells women's jeans on eBay for a living. It was so awesome my head nearly exploded.

Most memorably, I went to see Frank from this site speak as well as Davy from this magazine and Peter from this band. (I promise from here on out to cool it with the links). The show was funny and touching and embarassing all at the same time. Secrets about everything from war to boogers were read, found notes were sung aloud, and as you listened to America's innermost joyful, sorrowful, anger-filled, and sexually-charged thoughts, it was hard not to feel a little closer to the 40 or so other human beings crunched up against you in the tiny theatre. I was particularly touched by the found notes - small, innocent glimpses into the lives of people I will never ever meet, yet can relate to on a surprisingly intimate level. As secrets were revealed, the theatre seemed to become a more humane place, one where it would be ok to admit to anything you felt guilty about as a child or quietly reveled in as an adult.

Being inappropriately caught up in the pervading themes of honesty and acceptance, I looked around at the silouettes of the audience, feeling somehow close to them, like we had all seen a particularly vulnerable picture of humanity together and therefore we were something more than total strangers. I'm pretty sure I even went so far as to give a few people silent, closed-eye nods as if to say it's ok, I feel close to you too. This forced intimacy was crushed after 30 or so seconds when I saw a guy sitting 4 seats down from me turn to his date, point to the stage, and say "what a bunch of fucking freaks." Several flashes of anger, a couple of glasses of wine, and one vegetarian barbecue later, I laughed to myself and thanked God that he was right.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Things My New Gyno Said During My Last Visit

"My office is next to the house with the bloody sharks on it, just to give you the heads up"

"The cervix is quite a sight to behold."

"I can talk vagina all day long."

"You've got quite a lot of plaque build-up down there" [said during the payment process in reference to my mouth or, as a college friend once put it, 'the vagina of the face.']

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

State of the Union

Most days things at Chris Squared Headquarters run smooth as butta. Every now and then; however, there's a kink in the plan and phrases like "No, I don't need YOUR shit" rear their ugly heads, only to inevitably be swallowed again later. Arguing on occassion, I believe, is a difficult, but necessary part of a relationship. It's sort of a checks and balance, letting both you and the other person know that your relationship is an open contract, one in which either of you could leave at any time, and for that reason, it shouldn't be taken for granted. That being said, fighting sucks and it double sucks if you happen to be fighting with someone you care for deeply who happens to have the attention span of toddler.

Last night on an evening walk, Chris and I got into a rather heated debate about where we should be and what we should do in the future and in the middle of a conversation involving words like "buying a home," "marriage," and "the scary, scary, scary-ass prospect of never getting to see another person naked in real life again," the boyfriend suddenly became silent, seemingly lost in thought. For a brief minute, in between pseudo-yells, I thought "These are heavy issues, just give him some time to ponder the situation over." After a minute or two of silence, I asked "So...um...what do you think about all of this?" absolutely terrified of what the answer may be.

The periodical State of the Union address can go one of several directions, the best of which result in the relationship being closer than ever, the worst of which result in days spent sorting through which CDs belong to who. After a long, long, long pause Chris looked me directly in the eyes, took a deep breath and said, "look at this," pointing behind us to a gorgeous house surrounded by a brick fence, the kind of house you just know several happy people live in with their happy offspring and their happy dog(s). For a second, I felt, well, flattered, that even though I don't really want marriage or kids, that someone in this world would want to buy a home with me, to start a family with moi. My smile lasted about 10 seconds before he followed up by saying, "No seriously, look at this. The brick, it's still warm. That means it traps the sun during the day and is releasing the heat at night. That's what we call science!" I looked at him pressing his hands up against the wall, then glanced up at the gorgeous house on the hill, thinking about the several happy people and the happy offspring and the happy dogs that could be living their happy lives there at that very moment. And right then and there, I had everything I needed to know about the state of our union.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Sick and in bed. Will be back in a few days.

---The Management---

Sunday, May 14, 2006

19 Ways to Show Mom She Raised You Right

Drop a comment:
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and here.

Drop A Comment, Make A Difference

This guy is donating $1 for every comment left on his mother's day post. I think that's awesome. For a full list of participants, check out Benevolent Blogging.

Friday, May 12, 2006

The past two weeks have been stressful for any number of reasons. In an effort to clear my head, I put on my driving hat (featured left) and my favorite t-shirt (not featured left) and drove to the tiny town of Rocky Mount, Virginia for a visit to my grandmother's house, where the cooking is always meh and Fox News flows like wine. My grandmother is a pretty awesome lady simply because she's nice 90% of the time, but she's also realized that at 85, you can say whatever you please, fart wherever you want, do what you like, and ask any questions, no matter how graphic without people holding it against you. Like she told me this weekend, "Honey, I'm an old lady and I've got nothin to lose."

I believe that living like she's got nothing to lose is, in part, what's kept my grandmother alive and kicking so long (well, that and the miracles of hip replacement, quadruple bypass surgery, a strong faith, and potato soup). When hangin out with Mama J, everyone in the family anticipates weird questions like "Do you think Jerry Falwell will go to heaven?" and "How do black people do their hair?" but what we don't anticipate is that one of us will have an answer more strange than the question. This weekend when my grandmother asked with a completely straight face, "What's a testicle?" and my aunt replied with an equally straight face, "You should ask my husband, he has three," I was in get-your-mind-off-of-stressful-things-and-onto-how-in-the-world-are-you-related-to-these-people -also-is-three-testicles-even-possible?-are-they-in-a-line-or-a-bunch? heaven. We then watched not one, but several hours of Bill O'Reilly during which my grandmother asked myriad questions that involved the word 'ding dong' and told stories about people with names like Tookie and Ballard. It was like a maelstrom of every taboo subject on earth, all spewing from the unashamed lips of the most wrinkled woman I've ever seen.

When the conversation ended with my grandmother saying, "and in conclusion, that's why I'm just sick of the whites," all I could do was start laughing this crazy, stress-relieving maniacal laugh to myself, then crying to myself, then laughing all over again at the sheer absurdity of it all. Driving home on winding country roads, all I could think about was how lucky I am to be surrounded by a most delightfully bizarre collection of people, no matter how their balls may be arranged.

From the JetBlue Safety Manual

I don't know what message this picture is supposed to convey, but every time I see it, all I can think of is "in case of emergency, it's totally cool to seduce to your mom. Really, this is your last chance."

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

New Feature Which Could Quite Possibly Suck

The question I get asked most frequently besides "hey, why do you have to be so gross?" is "hey Chris/Couch/Chris Couch/girl from the internet (someone really did call me that once in an e-mail), what kind of music/movies/books/stuff in general do you like?" To answer that question in a way that doesn't inundate everyone with my poor taste in nearly everything, I've added a Daily Recs section (which was almost called the Recs N FX section...if you get that poorly-formed joke, you my friend, know your stuff about early 90's music), which you'll notice to your right. I like a lot of less than popular stuff (I dare not say 'underground' for fear of bringing the wrath of those that are indier-than-thou) and I'm always looking for new stuff to get into, so please feel free to send me your recommendations as well. Frankly, I don't know if this is actually a good idea or like the time when I was in the 5th grade and I thought that wearing a pair of tie-dyed MC Hammer little girl's parachute pants nonstop for three days was a "good idea." Hindsight - it's a beautiful thing.

In response to finding an insane number of awkward, awkward people who have created music videos to the song My Humps in what is clearly their bed/dorm rooms:

Friend: This is what crazy Christians do instead of making porn, right?

Why are there that many videos people? Why are there a disproportionate number of Asian kids singing My Humps? This one is my favorite, but only because little kids are cute. After all, what IS she going to do with all that junk inside that trunk? We've sunk low people. We've sunk real low.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Gymnastic? More Like Gymtastic...This Headline Makes No Sense At All

On the rare occassions when I come out of my protective coating of cheap and actually go to what my step father refers to as "the picture house," I like to see something that's either really good a la Ray, Hotel Rwanda, American Beauty or something that's really awful, like Stick It. Stick It is awesome simply because it strictly follows the only cardinal rule of awful movie-making: come up with a bunch of one-liners and develop a plot around that. Seriously, this movie is literally built off of having a really hot (like white hot) actress who gets to say a lot of gymnastics-themed one-liners. Classics include, but are not limited to "it's not called gym-nice-stics," "I'm not leotarded," and "I have a constitutional right to bare arms." Here's the breakdown:

* Super hot chick who has friends way more unattractive than her: +2
* OH GOD THE GYMNASTICS-THEMED ONE LINERS: +10 (billion)
* Presence of real actor who is clearly desperate for work (no, thank YOU Jeff Bridges): +4
* Asian-American girl whose character's name is Wei-Wei...honestly, could you get more stereotypical? You may as well have called her Ching-Chong or Fortune Cookie: +2
* Inappropriate number of leotard-clad crotch shots of supposedly teenage girls: +5
* Weird synchronized gymnastics scene filmed from the air, looks very screen-saver like: +3
* Breakdancing balance beam routine performed to Come Baby Come: +4
* The fact that becoming a competitive gymnast is the lead character's legal punishment for vandalism: +3
* Main character who is clearly at least 25 playing a 17 year old: +1
* The fact that you know somewhere, some pre-teen girl is watching this film and looking deep within, thinking to herself, "yeah, life really is like that.": +2
* A plethora of muscley, lumberjack legs: +1
* A scene which adds nothing to the plot, but leaves the audience thinking, "man, gymnasts really don't know how to behave in a public mall:" +1

While critics may call it "an abortion of cinema," I call it "a montage-filled Friday night when all I thought about was how much rum I didn't drink before the movie." Pass the popcorn.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

Cinco de Mayo, Schminco de Mayo, today is FREE COMIC BOOK DAY!

Friday, May 05, 2006

Greatest Thing That I Saw in New York

This was an ad in the subway. Honestly, are the photos of the world's most nasty feet really necessary? Isn't it enough just to know that someone, somewhere offers a free bunion removal consultation?

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Electric Boogaloo

Notes from New York coming up as soon as I can get a break from job catch-up. In other news, it's pretty apparent now that Tom Cruise is wearin crazy like it was in this season or something like that, but I think there's a more serious issue that needs to be addressed here: when did he become the worst white guy dancer ever? I distinctly remember going to this bizarre mirror-themed androgenous dance club in Italy once and I was dancing with some American dude who kept saying things like "either your hair smells like vomit or I've still got puke on my shirt" and later when I was walking home, I saw that same guy at 4AM slumped over in an alley and as I passed by him, he kind of half-assed called out, "hey I bet you can't fight me. Shiiiiiit man, none of y'all can fight me" and even though that guy couldn't really stand up or support his own weight, he was still a better dancer than this. When will the madness end?

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Conversations From Sunday

Me: Hi, I'm looking for some boots, preferably with a Western-theme, maybe something in an old lady Houndstooth as well, oh, and with a splash of 1980's neon pink thrown in, do you have anything like that I could purchase on a Sunday at 11PM?

New York: Yeah, we gotcha covered.