Working hard, at being lazy

My car has been on the fritz for a little over a month now, and I am just now trying to muster the gumption to fix it. The worst part is, that I could have done this work myself in, oh, 2 hours at any point in the last 6 weeks. I just hate taking care of stuff like that.

Last weekend I got my roommate to drive me to Autozone, where I bought a battery. Now I need to buy a positive battery cable on eBay (the old one was so corroded that the little copper strip connected to the lead nut actually snapped), and I can once again drive myself around.

I’ve been taking the bus everywhere I don’t want to ride my bike, and also doing a lot of walking. I hate walking, just not as much as diagnosing and fixing a mechanical issue in my car. To be honest, I kinda like it. I’m pretty sure I spend less money, I never have to give anyone rides, and I’m actually starting to get used to Charlottesville’s crappy public transportation.

I assume something’s gotta give. I’ll need to drive myself up to DC at some point, or my roommates will get tired of chauffeuring me around. But until then, I’m happy to pedal around town.

God I hope that nothing breaks on my bike.

In actuality, this is how it is.

They tell you what's what.

Paciferin

Paciferin: n. an infection-resisting factor found in natural foods. I've been trying to think of a scenario when I would feel comfortable enough to speak a word such as this around my friends and not feel like a complete d-bag....but, alas, I cannot.

These and other such "big" words are used day to day by common folk not too different from myself. I would say maybe 2-3% of the population might know what that word means -- that said, the 97-98% of society has no idea what that means, nor do most of them care UNTIL it's used in a sentence by their peers.

I'm talking about the definition-play-along. Some of us can pull it off: 1. whomever is speaking doesn't care to call you out when you "yes" them. 2. you can use context to figure out a half-def and spit some half-ass rebuttal like "oh yes, like in papaya" -- I usually use a fruit/food item less common to catch the smarty pants off guard.

I now know what paciferin means. (by the way, paciferin comes up as the wrong spelling and asks me to change it -- obviously it's too difficult for Blogspot, idiots.)

Weddings

The weather’s really turning around here, which means that wedding season is right around the corner. I have to say, I’m disappointed. Why aren’t more of you people getting married so I can get drunk and hit on that cute cousin of yours?

Seriously, I love weddings. Free booze and food, live music, friends, and family. Plus, everyone’s hammered. You can’t lose.

But let’s be honest. I’m not getting hitched anytime soon. Not by a long shot. Which means one of you has to step up to the plate here, and help me out. I haven’t been to one in two years.

There’s no time like the present, particularly in regards to my chances with your girlfriend’s sister.

42 Extra Long, if you were wondering.

I'm concerned with this email in so many way it's scary.

Attention, attention, read all about it -- the Sausage Pillow Pulverizer and Denim Destroyer have teamed up to pilfer your bolster...oh me, oh my.

From: C***** N******
Sent: Thursday, March 18, 2010 10:05 AM
To: Bethesda
Subject: Help here please...

Hi folks – I had a denim bolster (a sausage-shaped pillow) on my chair, and it’s gone missing since yesterday evening. Has anyone seen it?

C******

C***** N*****|Special Assistant to the TeaEO


Get that work done on a Thursday morning!

G-Flirt: The Revolution.

Let me tell you a little bit about technology. It fucking rocks.
Today I ordered a pizza from Papa Johns online, while watching
Spankwire, and DVRing the new hit HBO miniseries, The Pacific, from my
cell phone. It was convenient, titillating, and captivating all rolled
into one awesome 15 minute break in the office kitchen. Really -- the
stuff people have figured out to do with technology.

But, more specifically, the internet. The information superhighway is a
vast and infinite hole full of Brazilian fart porn and ways to
purchase knock off Gucci on the cheap.

Outside of all those www's: something else happened: a new way to
instantly communicate with anyone, anywhere, as long as they had a
modem (har har) and a computer. Do you remember AOL Instant
Messenger? I do. It was on AOL that I broke up with my first
girlfriend, and then had the rebound girl explain to me that she
shaved her box. Seriously. I was 16. Awesome.



But somewhere along the lines AIM took the back-burner to a new
e-mail/instant chatter in one. Gchat. And here comes the
revolutionary part, girls use the hell out of it. So what do I do? I
g-flirt.

That's right. The art of tactfully disarming a future hook-up online
has become ever more achievable. Instead of multiple coffee dates and
movie nights with no touching, I write expense reports and chat babes all
fucking day long. Maybe I met you at the bar and we drunkenly danced,
but you got freaked out when I tried to get you to back it up on me.
You ran away, but I friend-ed you on Facebook and now we're gchatting
everyday -- now you're done.



G-flirting is the fucking tits. I've never gained more intimate,
personal knowledge from a member of the opposite sex as readily and
quickly as I now do through g-flirting. It's retarded. Of course
there are some draw backs. When we finally go on a real date to see the Oscarworthy performance of Jeff Bridges as Bad Blake in Crazy Heart,
and I take you to a Thai restaurant for dinner, it feels a little
forced sharing info face to face. That's OK. You looked hot in that
top anyway.

And there's so much more liberation in telling someone all your dirty
little secrets without actually seeing them. It's so easy. Just a
few strokes of the key. And I stroke right back. G-flirt stylie. See
you on the dance floor.

POSTED BY A SO SO T-REX, the cheeky flirt

Go Big or Go Home

If there is one person in the United States of America that completely exemplifies the LHF lifestyle, it’s this woman.

She is actually trying to gain weight. Not just some weight, but 400 additional pounds in the next two years; added to the 600 pounds she already weighs, that would bring her up to a grand total of 1000 pounds. Half a ton. As much as this.

She says that so far it’s been hard to gain weight because she has to “chase” her daughter around. Though that might be the case for a normal person, because she weighs 600 pounds she can’t move more than 20 feet without one of these babies, so I doubt she’s burning too many extra calories.

And as if all that weren’t enough, she (obviously?) can’t afford her 12,000 calories-a-day diet. The solution? Start a web service where people pay to watch her gorge herself. I guess once you’re voluntarily creating a freakshow, you may as well sell tickets. It's like Field of Dreams, except instead of baseball and a cornfield it's a land-walrus and corn-dogs.

You think people would pay to watch me eat? I could stand to put on a couple El-Bees.

I got it from the Gucci store, bitch!

At a recent black tie event at the University Club in DC (my kind of place -- ballin'....), I had to wear a tuxedo. Keep in mind, before this year, I owned zero tuxedos, in fact, I had never even worn one. But as fate often gives you mysterious gifts, I was hand-me-downed two different tuxedos. As it turns out, the expensive tuxedo was the one that fit me: SCORE!

Apparently, finding different ways to talk about respective tuxedos isn't that cool of a thing to do at a black tie event. My excitement was almost unbearable. At first, I started with some easy ones, just fishing, so I could throw it right back -- "What kind of tux is that? Looks nice." "Oh, it's Jos. A. Bank." Psshhhhhh (that's the sound of me spitting the last sip of my drink on his pants).

As I recover, calm and collected, "Mine's from Brooks Bros," as I open my jacket. I look down once, back at his face, then once more, and close the masterpiece slowly.

I proceeded to tell at least 15 different people (including wait staff) in various ways about the brand of my tux. I went so far as store my phone on the inside pocket and pretend that it was getting a call, then, pretend my phone was stuck to gain valuable label time for the off chance someone noticed its branding.

I obviously shop there loads....

Cyril Northcote Parkinson worked hard his whole life to create a theory of why we, as a species, don’t really work all that hard. In his book Parkinson’s Law, he outlines a general rule for the way people work: “Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion.”

It makes perfect sense. Every time a person is given a task, they are typically given a timeframe in which to complete it. It’s so obvious.

That homework’s not due ‘til 2PM tomorrow? Pass me a beer.

You don’t need that PowerPoint until Thursday? What’s up, Facebook?

We all like good news from the scientific world (What’s that? Wine is good for you? So is chocolate? Well I guess I know what I’m having for dinner!). Next time someone asks you why you “procrastinate”, kindly explain to them that it is human nature. Tasks aren’t due ‘til they’re due. Now where’s my Xbox controller?

Amazing that I got this post done in such a short time...IVH

P.S. Click the image for the exciting conclusion.

Oh heyyy!!!

This scenario I'm about to describe has happened to ALL OF US -- all of us. I'm talking about that cringing moment when you thought you were involved in a two way interaction, but really, you're the outsider. You're ashamed, you're embarrassed, you're confused, but mostly, you're just plain disappointed with your overeager unprecedented actions.

That's how cool you feel -- and no! not when he was Stefan............sexy, sexy Stefan.

Whether you're cruising down the street or popping into the grocery store, this low hanging fruit is bound to happen sooner or later: the dreaded mistaken wave.

Oh boy oh boy, I must be popular! Look at that hottie wiggling their hand my way...

All of a sudden, something happens; you start weighing and analyzing:
That sort of looks like so and so...
Why isn't so and so making eye contact?
Our paths aren't going to cross!
No effort is being made to divert in my direction!
Oh crap...



If you had a tail, this would be a great time to shove it between your legs. But, I've figured out a way to bring it back on the predator: pretend you know them! Ask some ambiguous question about how their weekend was and jab, jab, hook, upper cut -- you're back on top. Now this "stranger" thinks they're the asshole -- not the best karma, and you're still a joke, but at least you know some unsuspecting victim can be duped just as you were.

Try it next time you're rocking a fruitless greeting by use of the hands -- if you can feign past the awkwardness and keep your cool, you can turn your low hanging fruit into, well, more, yet different, low hanging fruit...choose your poison.

GAR -- love me some awkward human behavior

Bunny Season

Yesterday I had the profound realization that when I got home from work, for the first time in what seemed like ages, my front porch was still bathed in sunlight. This can only mean one thing: this godforsaken winter is drawing to a close.

The time between winter and spring is awesome. Not only are the days getting progressively longer and warmer, but also my favorite day of the year sits in this weather limbo: the first day of bunny season.

For those of you who don’t know what bunny season is, here’s a quick definition.

Bunny Season n. [buhn-ee see-zuhn]:

1. The season following winter and preceding fall. See also: spring/summer.

The first day of bunny season is when there is a sudden spike in the percentage of women “laying out” in various grassy patches on college campuses all over the country.

This is the time of year when people start to come back out of their shells. No longer needing to hibernate, people begin to venture outside, play sports, and generally frolic about. So what activity should we, my LHF brethren, partake in? Maybe soccer? Jogging? How about a little game of touch football?

Nope, no, and you’re crazy. There’s only one thing to do on nice days in early spring: Porch sit.

Porch sitting is the ultimate LHF pastime. Zero effort, no excess money spent and, particularly during bunny season, huge return on time invested. A warm day hanging out on the porch with a cooler full of delicious light beer and burgers sizzling on a nearby grill is good old-fashioned fun. Adding in the extra awesomeness of bunny season kicks it into nirvana territory.

This Sunday will likely be warm enough to coax out some of the braver individuals, who will likely suffer through a 50-degree day just to get an “early base”. Look for them in the evening, sprinting back to their sorority houses in Daisy Dukes, as the temperature drops back into the sub-arctic territory. Plenty of entertainment for a good ole’ porch sit.

You know where to find me. And yes, it's BYOB. IVH.

Man I burned like 12,000 calories on the treadmill today.

No you didn't, otherwise you'd be one M. Phelps, who, by the way, does follow the puff, puff, pass mantra.

In reality, you're probably much like many other people around this great country and looking for an easy out. By saying that you burned 12,000 in one workout on a treadmill significantly builds your excuse repertoire. You may have burned somewhere between 200 - 400 calories in your semi-effort filled workout spent mostly staring at Mr. or Mrs. What-A-Freaking-Ass.


DAM! Imagine how you feel after this "awesome" workout. What does that make you want to do, or, should I say, eat? Mmm, the possibilities stream through your mind like numbers to an accountant or 1's and 0's to Keanu Reeves.



This is where your low hanging fruit comes in to play. I've heard this too many times to count and I've used it even more: I worked out today so I can eat/drink whatever I want. In fact, I've used this same LHF mindset twice this week, since Monday, and used that same excuse this past Sunday: since I "worked out hard all week and I deserve it."

Here's a couple free life lessons:

-You probably didn't work as hard as you thought
-You didn't burn as many calories as you thought
-That double bacon Monster Thickburger is in no way good for you
-Life isn't fair


As discouraging as this may be to many people, including myself, I am attempting to embrace reality.


(attempting)



(attempting)



(attempting)



(attempting)


But then again, who gives a shit? Mike, pass the bong, we're almost to Hardees.