humor, manfolk

Check, please

So I watched The Social Network with Boyfriend the other day.  He couldn’t shut up about it.  He loves that movie so much, and I can kinda see why.  It’s very quick, the dialog is very sharp, and an excellent representation of the best (and not-so-best) of our generation.

really quite handsome

Then there’s Armie Hammer.

He plays the twins on crew who come up with the original idea upon which facebook is based.  I honestly thought there were two of them.  Imagine my disappointment.  Shit.

So naturally I looked him up online and he’s… a little plumper in most photos than he is in the movie, maybe because he had to play a hugely ripped rower (yes plz).  Christ, and his voice?  Yikes.  I kept watching the movie expecting to find some angle I didn’t like.  No dice, ladies.  This guy is just… delicious.  Sorry Boyfriend! lol

I’ve never written a post solely about some random good-looking celebrity, because that’s stupid.  But this is important.  It demonstrates a distinct shift in my racial preferences.  I would normally say, “Y’know who’s handsome?  Armie Hammer.  For a white boy.”  But I can’t really keep saying that.  I keep running into really good looking white guys, and it’s freaking me out.  My whole standard of what I consider attractive in the white male category is apparently changing, and yeah, it’s freaking me out (in a good way).  Is it time to reassess what I look for physically in a mate, or is it really not that important?  I’m gonna go with the latter for now.

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humor, martial arts, work

Open letter to dojo attendees

Dear Adult White Male(s),

Stop fucking with me. Do you want to learn martial arts, or not? That’s what I thought, so stop talking back. That, that right there, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re the student, I’m the instructor. That means I’m going to critique you and boss you around. It comes with the territory, but I’m a good teacher with no ego, so I’m not going to be a dick about it. Stop fighting me. And stop almost punching me in the face when I hold up a target in front of my chest, then try to justify it by saying that I told you to “aim for the chin.” YOUR chin. In the MIRROR. When you’re PRACTICING. Do I really need to tell you not to punch me in the face? I do? Fuck.

FYI, we’re not doing that again. Next time you’re in class, and I tell you to slow down, you’re going to slow the fuck down. Because you’re not doing it right, Adult White Male. You’re doing it wrong, and I’m trying to fix that, but your giant sense of privilege and big fat head are getting in the way.

Come to learn, or don’t come at all. There’s a reason I’m the instructor, and you’re not. Everyone gets that except you. Your attitude is boring and trite. Get over yourself. Being better than most of the class is not the equivalent of being good. Your technique is sloppy and rushed. You’re the worst kind of noob: the kind that thinks he’s not a noob. But you are. You are a giant noob with a big problem taking instruction. Get over it, or don’t enter the dojo at all.

Frankly,

Skilled Female Sensei

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goodness, humor, manfolk

Say it: Peanut butter cup. See? Magical.

Yesterday I worked at the dojo, came home, ate ramen, biked to and taught at the park, biked home, jumped in the shower and immediately had a hankering for a Reeses peanut butter cup. I’ve been craving those recently, so I bought some at the store. But there I was, trapped in the shower, picturing them trapped in my kitchen cabinet, both of us yearning for the other.

So naturally I whined until Boyfriend came in to see what all the fuss was about. I asked him to get me a Reeses, and he shot me one of those, “C’mon… seriously?” looks. I gave him my best adorably huge smile. He rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. I lathered up my hair, and a short while later, Boyfriend came back with a “Look what IIIIIII goooooot!” Was it a Reeses? No. It was a cat. My neighbor’s cat. And it was not happy about being in the bathroom. Her pupils were huge. She looked like she was going to shed all her hair at once at the stress of being kidnapped by a strange man and taken into a hot, steamy room, only to encounter a dripping wet lady who then laughed, then stupidly reached out to pet her. She squirmed until my boyfriend, who was having already trouble hanging on to her, took off running out of the bathroom to let her back onto the patio, and get me my damn peanut butter cup.

He came back and reluctantly fed it to me, all the while saying, “I gotta go, I’m IMing someone about work!” I giggled and took another bite while he tried to shove the rest of it into my mouth.

We ate at Johnny Rockets while our friends (who apparently have horrible taste in restaurants) ate at Kabuki before we met at the theater upstairs to see the seventh Harry Potter movie (part I). Super depressing, but good. I need a wand.

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humor, work

Arbeit

My first encounter with the concept of all-day meetings was when I was a kid, and my dad couldn’t pick us up from school because he would “be in meetings all day.” Little did I know he meant this literally.

I recently got a new part-time job at a great place with nice people and great benefits. The pay is good, the office is nice, I have my own desk and all the plants a girl could want to decorate it with. Overall, things are great there. Last month, my boss mentioned a few meetings she needed me to go to, one right after the other, which would last anywhere from around 1pm to around 9pm. A small part of me died. All-day meetings were very real, and I was about to experience them. Fuck.

What I’ve learned from all-day meetings:

Bring something to entertain your self with– It has to be something you can abandon immediately and often, something that will allow you to listen to what’s being said while you do it, basically something you can enjoy without looking like you’re not paying attention. Bringing a book is an instant fail (its mere presence implies anticipated boredom). Bringing a folded-up newspaper with the crossword on the outside is an instant fail. Cut that shit out of the newspaper and hide it with the rest of your crap.

If you forget your entertainment, remember: Your brain is amazing– I’ve never been caught in a situation where I was so bored out of my mind that I prayed for sweet death to end my suffering, mostly because I’ve always found some way to entertain myself. This usually involves writing haikus about the people in the room, or about how boredom might be a silent killer. I have the ability to have fun wherever I am, usually in total silence. It’s the kind of ability sociopaths and schizophrenics have, and it’s invaluable at all-day meetings.

Choose your seat carefully– Don’t sit in front of, or next to your boss. The ideal location for a boss to sit during one of these meetings is in front of you. That way they feel close enough to supervise you so they leave you alone, when really what’s happened is you’ve lulled them into a seat of false supervision that allows you to keep an eye on them so you know when to look alert. If they sit behind you, they’ll be watching every number you put down on that Sudoku puzzle you snuck in.
You also have to be careful which coworker you sit next to. Don’t sit next to Chatty Kathy; she’ll draw attention to you and make you seem like a slacker by association, even if you’re not engaging with her. Try to sit next to someone quiet but trustworthy; you don’t want to have to mow them down in the parking lot for ratting you out to the boss for drawing a unibrow on the founder’s face on that stupid brochure. You weren’t even paying attention when you did it, your hand acted on it’s own!

Take notes– Your boss will ask you what you thought of Ms. Ladypants’ idea about Scooty-blah. It doesn’t matter what you think, but you have to demonstrate that you were paying attention. Every time a slide changes, or a new speaker stands up, pay attention for a minute and write down some tidbit of information. Better yet, raise your hand and say something pertinent. It’ll help you stay awake, remember the topic, and frankly it’ll make the whole meeting more interesting.

Having said that, here are my notes from the last bout of meetings:
-“The next person to touch my back is going to pull back a bloody stump.” (the direct result of being two decades younger than everyone else in the room is that everyone feels like my mom or dad, or hits on me. The result of all of this is someone laying a hand on my shoulder or back when they pass by me or stop to talk. It’s gross. I pull away.)
-“I always feel weird saying “Gesuntheit’ to Jewish people.” (my Jewish coworker sneezed during the meeting. I felt awkward, and showed her this note. She laughed)

I don’t find all-day meetings to be all that much of a chore, to be honest. All you do is sit there and listen to people chat about… stuff. I can think of worse things to be roped into [see picture].

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goodness, humor

May I introduce Beastlie #4: Nokie

I don’t buy a lot of Beastlies. It has to be a case of love at first sight. Such was the case with the newest edition to my little monster family, Nokie.

If my childhood self was reincarnated into a tiny clay monster, this is what it would look like. I was a little crazy, very happy, and totally uncontainable. I particularly like the little almost-heart shaped spots on his back, and messy teeth. What a gem. He is a carefree, tiny me, and for that, he earns a permanent spot under my computer monitor. He is my little treasure, and he seems to know it.

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goodness, humor, life

Kids are amazing

So… kids are amazing. This is the best thing I’ve seen all fucking day. Week. Whatever, it’s been a rough fucking month with everything that’s been going on, so I needed a bunch of kids pulling a harmless miracle of a prank on an opposing team to make me smile. And smile I did 🙂

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anime, goodness, humor, manfolk

The fetish surfaces

So… this is embarrassing to admit, but there have been several times when I have the feeling that if a cartoon character were to come to life, I would totally hit on him. I’m not talking about a common cartoon crush or whatever. I mean… crap, what do I mean…?
It must be the whole package I’m drawn to; the environment the character is in, the simplicity of the rules, and so on. No homeless people, no menstruating, no bad haircuts, none of that crap. This must be what it’s like to have a crush on a celebrity after watching a movie.
And so, without further ado, before I blush myself into oblivion, my list of cartoon dudes I would seduce the shit out of were I given two dimensions of a chance (and the show/movie they’re featured in):

Hatake Kakashi (Naruto)- I’ll never be cool enough for this guy. Boys and girls all over Japan agree: Kakashi is the coolest. Also, a pervert.

Vash the Stampede (Trigun)- Vash is so broken and innocent. I want to take care of him. Among other things.

Spike (Cowboy Beebop)- He’s the best at what he does. His intelligence and physical skill make him a highly desirable mate. What? I’m just saying…

Ashitaka (Princess Mononoke)- What can I say about this guy? He’s the outdoorsy type, the prince of his clan, he’s quick, courageous, animals trust him, and he’s voiced by Dr. Manhattan (that last part doesn’t actually do anything for me. Trivia!)

Needless to say all of these characters are a bit damaged, because who wants a man without a past? Not me, sister. They’re also drawn with special attention, none of that HUGE ANIME EYES baloney. Don’t get me wrong, their hair is all ridiculous, but that’s how anime distinguishes one character from another. I’m over it.

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goodness, humor

May I introduce Maru…

If you’re not familiar with the phenomenon that is Maru, the dark times are over, friend. It’s time to stop being lame and look him up. He’s just the best.

Maru the cat lives in an apartment in Japan with an owner who has done the rest of us the favor of encouraging his eccentricities, filming them, and putting them all over YouTube. If you’ve been stressing about the complete lack of watching a fat cat do a sliding dive into an empty box, let me put you at ease. Maru is a big, fat, adorable sweetheart that will win over dog-lovers everywhere by intentionally cramming himself into tiny, lidded trash bins, and sliding comically out from under couches on his back.

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goodness, humor, life

The relativity of everything

Sometimes as I people-watch, I pretend I’m an alien, and try to imagine how strange the things we do might seem to someone with no experience with humans. In no particular order, here are a few I enjoy feigning ignorance about:

The morning coffee ritual– Sleep inadequate to recharge daily energy levels in adults. Supplement required for productivity.
Children playing pretend– Instantaneous construction of increasingly complex false reality, usually while (mostly) conscious of its falsehood.
Singing– Experimental noises from the human throat meant for entertaining others or oneself. Usually louder and noticeably more tonal than speech.
A crowd at a sporting event– Adults playing pretend; two armies clash with one clear victor. A simple sense of morals, similar to their young.
Young women doing each other’s makeup– Bonding through mutual assistance to increase mating appeal.
Funerals– Collective support through gathering and discussion of deceased with acceptable (often encouraged) demonstrations of a sense of loss (in some cultures).
Dancing– Demonstration of physical ability through study and imitation of traditional movements. Self entertainment, a form of relaxation through solitary or collective physical movement, usually accompanied by music with strong attention to percussive instruments. Demonstration of rhythm (the ability to anticipate the next iteration of a percussive sound) and physical coordination to potential mates. Movement for the sake of movement.
Meditating– Attempt at alternate thought patterns and occasionally the eventual abandonment of the body through total lack of movement, vision, speech and interaction with anything.
Kissing– Physical contact, specifically with the lips, of one or more people to demonstrate romantic, sexual, or familial preference or greeting.
Telling a joke– Attempt to elicit a joyful reaction from others, usually to bond or gain acceptance.

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