Ok, after my poorly received Iowa article, I thought I would give humor a permanent break, at least for a while. Suddenly, I find myself in the midst of a deadline, so here we go again. I’m just going to rant, since I have no material ready, and hopefully you’ll laugh.
Cats and Sweaters:
Do I even need to say that an animal that has a furry body doesn’t need clothing of any kind? I think I do, because there is an entire secret industry designed to feed the fetishes of people that dress cats and dogs like dolls in outrageous garments like “cow print rain coats”, velvet sweaters, and wrap around sunglasses. Literally, I can imagine someone strapping these wrap around sunglasses on Sparky’s head and saying, you look so cool “Sparky”, let’s go out. It’s literally off the charts. To think that these sweaters cost about $80 shows that there is some great marketing going on. I don’t know why I’m talking about this, but I just think it’s important for the world to know that there are several thriving business based on pet couture.
Until a couple of weeks ago, one of the worst things that could ever happen to a human being was an unrequited sneeze (a sneeze that never comes to fruition because of someone’s irreverent interruption or just disappears in the wind for no reason at all). That was until I found some hair in my scrambled eggs.
I’m not going to name the restaurant, let’s just say it so very, very, very close to campus, that you could eat there while on campus. I was starving, and I had a furious desire for powdered eggs (for some reason). Finally I sat down and started digging in, only to find a coarse hair beneath a delicious looking egg nugget. I’m a guy, and we have all sorts of rules. I enforced the, I can eat anything that didn’t touch the hair rule. So I started eating more, until I found another longer, coarse hair. At that point I had enough.
Why do people have the year included with their personal e-mail addresses, like email@example.com. What happens in 2000? What about 2015? The stranger strain of these people, are those who change their e-mail address each year to the current year is even worse. This is not the way to go about it people. Why do they need to make up these confusing conventions?
Speaking about things guys do, references to guy code have come up several times in the news room over the last couple of weeks. I should introduce lengthy discussion Guy Codes of its history and intricacies, but that would be dumb, because guy code, while largely respected, is unspoken and just understood. All I can say is that the list of regulations is prodigiously substantial and poignant and followed in large part without any direct instruction by male elders.
Guys can’t drink cosmos:
This is going to get me in trouble, but a guy shouldn’t come within an arm’s length of a pink drink in a martini glass. In isolation, there is nothing wrong with a pink drink (cranberry and vodka) and a drink in a martini glass (Bond, shaken not stirred, c’mon). But together, for guys, drinking a cosmo draws comparisons like Strom Thurmond challenging Nas in an emcee battle. It really doesn’t make sense, and you really don’t want to see it. Once, I caught one of my male friends drinking a Cosmo. I almost literally slapped the glass out of his hand. I explained to him that I’d rather drink the sweat out of John Goodman’s shirt after he mowed a twelve acre lawn than have another man see me drink a cosmo. I think he got the message. He’s a success story, while others are not.
Guys don’t call charges while playing basketball:
This is most ridiculous thing in pick up sports. It represents a total and complete aversion to honor and dignity. It reveals the taste of desperation in one’s mouth. It makes your own teammates hate you. It’s literally one of the worst things you can do as a human being.
Nobody, but no body calls a charge in pick up basketball. Although it is largely ignored by everyone on the court, no one forgets the desperate fool who called it. Additionally, allowing a charge call breaks down the social structure and legitimizes other wussy garbage calls like 3 seconds and illegal defense which undermines the fun of the game. No one wants that.
Guys don’t watch Dawson’s Creek:
Some might make the argument that guys don’t own the Justin Timberlake CD either. I wouldn’t be in that category. That show is for starry eyed 10th graders and no one else. I think it’s part of the girl code that they can’t watch Oz.
Ok, that’s it. I’m going back into retirement. I hope that you were not offended.