Thursday, October 14, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Music
A couple nights ago I went to my friend’s concert in Orangevale. It had been a long time since I had been at a show of any sort, local or otherwise, so I was instantly reminded of a couple fun things. The first thing is that everyone loves standing behind a tall person at a concert. I’ve had more insults thrown at me with my back turned to people at shows than I have in any other situation in life. Luckily, at this particular show, instinct kicked in, and I found myself drifting backwards until I was up against a large post (frequent readers of this blog will remember my affinity for large posts and/or support columns when in a public setting).
The second thing I remembered was that the drunker people get, the more likely they are to comment on my height. At the show there was a bar area and a general standing area. As the night was closing I was walking to the front door to go outside and make a call. As I approached the front area, I guy sitting at a table alone in the bar area erupted with “Man…fuck you’re tall.” It was said in such a way that he had probably wanted to say this to me all night, but now that he was properly loaded and/or he thought I was leaving for the night and this was his last chance to get it off his chest he had to jump in and say it. I gave him my usual awkward response to observations like this: a thumbs-up. It’s not the most appropriate gesture I suppose, but really I don’t know what I am supposed to do instead. Apologize? Mock apologize? I don’t think there’s an answer.
The concert reminded me of another music-related tall person problem: band shirts. I love band shirts. Nothing is cooler than seeing a person around with a shirt of a cool, lesser known band you like and yes, sometimes, I want to be that person. Unfortunately, unless you are a metal head, bands don’t like to make shirts that fit someone like me, especially indie/hipster bands who mainly cater to boys and girls who average 5’4” 95 pounds. XL is the largest size a band shirt usually comes in. I can sometimes get by with an XL, but, being 6’6” and not thin, XXL is usually required. Complicating the matter further is that I enjoy several bands that come from other countries and the size “XL” outside of the United States is about the equivalent of U.S. youth medium. If only I could acquire licensing rights for free, I wish I could start my own line of cool plus-sized band shirts for tall people. Perhaps slogans like “I’m large and I love Radiohead…enjoy standing behind me at one of their shows!” or “I may be really tall, but I still appreciate the ethereal Icelandic mumblings of Sigur Ros.” Some day.
The second thing I remembered was that the drunker people get, the more likely they are to comment on my height. At the show there was a bar area and a general standing area. As the night was closing I was walking to the front door to go outside and make a call. As I approached the front area, I guy sitting at a table alone in the bar area erupted with “Man…fuck you’re tall.” It was said in such a way that he had probably wanted to say this to me all night, but now that he was properly loaded and/or he thought I was leaving for the night and this was his last chance to get it off his chest he had to jump in and say it. I gave him my usual awkward response to observations like this: a thumbs-up. It’s not the most appropriate gesture I suppose, but really I don’t know what I am supposed to do instead. Apologize? Mock apologize? I don’t think there’s an answer.
The concert reminded me of another music-related tall person problem: band shirts. I love band shirts. Nothing is cooler than seeing a person around with a shirt of a cool, lesser known band you like and yes, sometimes, I want to be that person. Unfortunately, unless you are a metal head, bands don’t like to make shirts that fit someone like me, especially indie/hipster bands who mainly cater to boys and girls who average 5’4” 95 pounds. XL is the largest size a band shirt usually comes in. I can sometimes get by with an XL, but, being 6’6” and not thin, XXL is usually required. Complicating the matter further is that I enjoy several bands that come from other countries and the size “XL” outside of the United States is about the equivalent of U.S. youth medium. If only I could acquire licensing rights for free, I wish I could start my own line of cool plus-sized band shirts for tall people. Perhaps slogans like “I’m large and I love Radiohead…enjoy standing behind me at one of their shows!” or “I may be really tall, but I still appreciate the ethereal Icelandic mumblings of Sigur Ros.” Some day.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Two places
Two places where you don't want to be the only overweight one in the group, both of which happened to me this weekend in Tahoe:
1) In a full elevator when it makes some sort of stupid "breaking apart" noise and/or lurch. It's amazing how quickly all the eyes in the 4x4 foot space suddenly meet yours when this happens
2) In the front seat of a full car when it unexpectedly scrapes a shallow curb. That’s going to really make the driver want to pick your ass up again.
I still had a great time though, so life can suck it.
1) In a full elevator when it makes some sort of stupid "breaking apart" noise and/or lurch. It's amazing how quickly all the eyes in the 4x4 foot space suddenly meet yours when this happens
2) In the front seat of a full car when it unexpectedly scrapes a shallow curb. That’s going to really make the driver want to pick your ass up again.
I still had a great time though, so life can suck it.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Leave the beer pong to the white guys
I was at a joint birthday party a couple nights ago for a few friends. At this party was a beer pong game going in the garage. Being a college student during the days of the BP's real flourishing, I have played my fair share of the "sport" and rather enjoy the game. After a couple of friendly matches, a couple of new opponents arrived at the table, one of which was the exact kind of player you just love to beat during beer pong: Fratty McFraterson.
Let me tell you about him.
Fratty McFraterson may not be Irish, he may not even be in a fraternity, but he is Fratty McFraterson all the same. He's a 6-foot tall white guy, slender and usually athletic looking. His jaw will most likely be squarish. Sometimes he is wearing a backwards hat and a basketball jersey, other times he is wearing clothes that are way too preppy for the occasion. These are his only two looks. He is always about 2-3 drinks more intoxicated than anyone else in the room, unless he has just arrived at the party. Regardless, he will instantly be obnoxious. He enters the game with a cocky swagger and immediately tries to start naming rules that you've never heard of before like "three consecutive air-balls equals a cup" or "if you knock a cup over at any point, that's game over." As the game progresses he starts introducing even more rules that have to be continuously debated over. Whenever you sink a cup on him, he immediately tries to tell you that your elbow was over the table, regardless of the fact that you were 2 feet away from the table's edge. If he is losing, he starts to make annoying sounds when you begin to throw, or maybe, in what he considers to be a brilliant allusion, references the movie "Caddyshack" with shouts of "NOONAN!" If he really starts to lose, he goes for broke, trying to get everyone to agree to the "sniper" rule where if you make a cup that someone is holding, you automatically win and if you refuse, he bitches that this therefore "isn't a real game."
This is Fratty McFraterson.
This is why he must always be defeated.
And he was.
Despite all his tactics, my partner and I beat him and his partner by 4 cups. When I sunk that last cup against him it felt so good that I could almost see sparks flying out of it a la "The Natural" (two sports movies references so far, keep up everyone). For a sport that's not really a sport there's really only one true victory, humbling all the F McFs out there and putting them in their place.
Go now, and conquer.
Let me tell you about him.
Fratty McFraterson may not be Irish, he may not even be in a fraternity, but he is Fratty McFraterson all the same. He's a 6-foot tall white guy, slender and usually athletic looking. His jaw will most likely be squarish. Sometimes he is wearing a backwards hat and a basketball jersey, other times he is wearing clothes that are way too preppy for the occasion. These are his only two looks. He is always about 2-3 drinks more intoxicated than anyone else in the room, unless he has just arrived at the party. Regardless, he will instantly be obnoxious. He enters the game with a cocky swagger and immediately tries to start naming rules that you've never heard of before like "three consecutive air-balls equals a cup" or "if you knock a cup over at any point, that's game over." As the game progresses he starts introducing even more rules that have to be continuously debated over. Whenever you sink a cup on him, he immediately tries to tell you that your elbow was over the table, regardless of the fact that you were 2 feet away from the table's edge. If he is losing, he starts to make annoying sounds when you begin to throw, or maybe, in what he considers to be a brilliant allusion, references the movie "Caddyshack" with shouts of "NOONAN!" If he really starts to lose, he goes for broke, trying to get everyone to agree to the "sniper" rule where if you make a cup that someone is holding, you automatically win and if you refuse, he bitches that this therefore "isn't a real game."
This is Fratty McFraterson.
This is why he must always be defeated.
And he was.
Despite all his tactics, my partner and I beat him and his partner by 4 cups. When I sunk that last cup against him it felt so good that I could almost see sparks flying out of it a la "The Natural" (two sports movies references so far, keep up everyone). For a sport that's not really a sport there's really only one true victory, humbling all the F McFs out there and putting them in their place.
Go now, and conquer.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
random
So, just like everyone loves to do, I moved back in with my parents a couple months back. At the same time, my sister, her husband, and my 8 month old nephew also moved into to my parents house as they are transitioning from Colorado to California. One funny thing I've noticed when living here is how ridiculous conversations can get with a baby in the background. Serious conversations become interjected with jovial exclamations of "CLAP, CLAP!" (whenever the baby's hands come together) or "PANDA!" (whilst playing with a stuffed panda) and then right back to the serious, somber tone.
LIST TIME!
Today, as a white person, I am thankful for:
1) Benjamin Gibbard
2) Home console editions of the fighting game Marvel vs. Capcom for saving myself and others of non-Asian descent the embarrassment of being absolutely destroyed in the arcade.
Today, as an overweight person, I am thankful for:
1) PeopleofWalmart.com for proving things could always be worse.
Today, as a tall person, I am NOT thankful for:
1) The asshole who parked all they way on the right edge of his parking spot giving me hardly any room to open my car door and consequently causing me to literally lift and pull my legs and feet into the driver seat.
LIST TIME!
Today, as a white person, I am thankful for:
1) Benjamin Gibbard
2) Home console editions of the fighting game Marvel vs. Capcom for saving myself and others of non-Asian descent the embarrassment of being absolutely destroyed in the arcade.
Today, as an overweight person, I am thankful for:
1) PeopleofWalmart.com for proving things could always be worse.
Today, as a tall person, I am NOT thankful for:
1) The asshole who parked all they way on the right edge of his parking spot giving me hardly any room to open my car door and consequently causing me to literally lift and pull my legs and feet into the driver seat.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Dreams
I've had a lot of crazy dreams in my life, not unlike everyone else. Also like most people, despite how ridiculous the dream is, I am rarely aware that I am dreaming until I awake. I once had a dream where I was trying to gun down an Imperial Walker from Star Wars (an AT-AT, for the true nerds out there) in my backyard. My brain considered such an event perfectly logical while I was asleep, but obviously absolutely ridiculous once awake.
I was therefore rather dissapointed with my subconscious last night when, during an all too rare sex dream (with a completely ficticious woman, thus not making it creepy or uncomfortable), my mind went "well, this couldn't possibly be happening" making myself aware of the dream and awakening me.
Battling fantasy war machine transports? Of course. Sex? Impossible.
Thanks, me.
I was therefore rather dissapointed with my subconscious last night when, during an all too rare sex dream (with a completely ficticious woman, thus not making it creepy or uncomfortable), my mind went "well, this couldn't possibly be happening" making myself aware of the dream and awakening me.
Battling fantasy war machine transports? Of course. Sex? Impossible.
Thanks, me.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
So good, your brain.
I think I am going to start a semi-regular blog segment highlighting a particularly amazing rap lyric. Today's comes courtesy of Mr. T.I. Harris:
Yeah Shawty you the hottest/Love the way you drop it/Brain so good coulda sworn you went to college
Now the last sentence of this verse is obviously the most enjoyable, but it's even better in full context for so many reasons.
First off, it's difficult to rhyme "Drop it" with "College"...but then that's why T.I. gets paid the big bucks.
Second, he goes from physical compliments to personality-based compliments with absolutely no segue whatsoever. Mentioning a girl's attributes outside of her ass is rare for most rappers and I actually find it somewhat endearing that T.I. considers a girl's intelligence important, even if it's importance is only par with the way she is able to "drop it".
Third, that last sentence is just pure gold. "Brain so good" alone is just a remarkable enough. Who has ever put those three words together before in that order? No one. Also, to infer that she is so intelligent that she must have attended college (a lofty goal indeed) implies that the question "did you go to college?" was never brought amidst the aggressive offerings of gassed-up jets and patron on ice. Simply amazing.
Yeah Shawty you the hottest/Love the way you drop it/Brain so good coulda sworn you went to college
Now the last sentence of this verse is obviously the most enjoyable, but it's even better in full context for so many reasons.
First off, it's difficult to rhyme "Drop it" with "College"...but then that's why T.I. gets paid the big bucks.
Second, he goes from physical compliments to personality-based compliments with absolutely no segue whatsoever. Mentioning a girl's attributes outside of her ass is rare for most rappers and I actually find it somewhat endearing that T.I. considers a girl's intelligence important, even if it's importance is only par with the way she is able to "drop it".
Third, that last sentence is just pure gold. "Brain so good" alone is just a remarkable enough. Who has ever put those three words together before in that order? No one. Also, to infer that she is so intelligent that she must have attended college (a lofty goal indeed) implies that the question "did you go to college?" was never brought amidst the aggressive offerings of gassed-up jets and patron on ice. Simply amazing.
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