gotta cut back on the coffee

"that bathroom stall is so small, getting out of it is like giving birth to yourself."

"he thinks I'm a genius."
"are you a genius?"
"no, I'm just misunderstood."

"unemployment doesn't buy prada."

"troy reminds me of those fucking rocky pointe bathrooms. you get in there and there's a sea of piss 10 miles wide and half an inch deep. it's fucking epic. pretty goddamn shallow, but whatever you think of it, it's enough to make you say 'daaamn.' "

ADHS update for May

a milder version of this article to the Arizona Department of Health Services a little while ago in response to the request, "give us an update." the only other guideline I was given was "it should be informative." I think I failed on both objectives, but it was still fun to write.

Some six months ago, I joined the forces of good to present POWER [a rape prevention program] to junior high and high schools in the area. So far, it's been wildly entertaining. Somewhere amid angry parents, unattentive kids, skeptical teachers and what seems like 2 million idiot drivers who every morning think that the quickest way to get from point a to point b is to stand on their brake pedals, somewhere amid all of this, I managed to find something I truly enjoy doing. What drives a slacker to give up his slacker life to brave this veritable circus? Masochism? The huge load of karma points? Cognitive dissonance? Pure raging narcissism? Perhaps.

Mostly, the answer can be found in the classroom doing whatever it is that we do. Our goal, our mission objective is date and acquaintance rape prevention. In practical terms, this means getting students to recognize it, avoid it and hopefully do something about it above and beyond simply "feeling bad" about it. "Rape" and "sexual assault" to a lot of students seem like terms that refer to horrendous acts, but horrendous acts that are remote, removed, random. They are imagined to be acts a deranged criminal, a thug, a stranger commits to a helpless victim who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of our work revolves around getting students to realize that though this is the stereotypical situation we imagine, it is not the stereotypical situation.

The bulk of the program focuses on a remarkably simple premise: No one wants to have an unhealthy or abusive relationship, but people of every age, race and socio-economic status find themselves in these relationships all the time. Very often, we find both students and ourselves dismissing other people's behaviors with "oh, they're just stupid", "they're immature", "they have low self-esteem." In a classroom setting, it's easy to make lists, point to them and say "That gooood", "That baaad". Outside of class however, we find it even easier to neglect our lists. Students see relationships without trust, without respect. They see incredible acts of cruelty commit under the banner of love. They see malice of all kinds endured for acceptance.

One subject people almost universally like to talk about is other people; more specifically, other people's dating situations. The what, the who, the how many M&M's. Granted, sometimes we find that students are so used to zoning out for whatever reason that it takes a little prodding for them to realize that we are talking about situations that apply to them. Situations they see every day. Situations in "their world". "Is a girl who dresses a certain way asking to be harassed?" "Do you think a 25-year-old and a 17-year-old can have a healthy relationship?" "Is 'giving in' the same as 'giving consent'?"

They begin to think more carefully about how and why people get into the relationships, how people can be broken down, why they stay in such relationships. Curiosity is piqued. Thoughts begin turning. The stories begin. Given a little time, our focus on relationships has a tendency to open the floodgates with these students.

This, as an avid people-watcher, is the part of my job that I love the most. Depending on the class, I get to play a cross between Dr. Phil and Carson Daly with the occasional Jerry Springer thrown into the mix.

We come across a fantastic mix of personalities. The apathetic, the innocent, the truly worn-- 16 year olds who are already tired of life. There are tight-lipped, god-fearing classes who snap to silent attention at even a vaguely disapproving look. There are madhouses where exhausted teachers are so shell-shocked they no longer seem to hear the volleys of insults and rambling stories about how "one time me and my friends was sooooo f---ing high...." There is a range of maturity levels from those who giggle at the word "sex" to those who no longer flinch at the word "rape". Children who are always trying to look for the "right" answer and little punks who try to find the exception to every rule. Teens wide-eyed because they never imagined that people could be so terrible to the ones they "love" the most. Teens wide-eyed because we talk to them about their own lives.

All in all, I tend to have a hard time describing the job to those who ask me about it. I have a harder time explaining what it is I enjoy so much. The last few months been shocking, eye-opening, frustrating, hilarious, invigorating, but most of all, poignant in all sorts of ways. The best I can do is this: in this job, we see the same circus, the same play we've seen in ourselves, in our friends, in some form of another all around us, all of our lives. This time, though, we get to rewind and pause and examine some bits a little closer. The best is when we get the actors to see what's coming and change some bits and hopefully make it a little better in the long run.

she said he said

"he is like a ten year-old girl. what does a ten year-old girl think about all the time? trying to be cool and look hot. can a ten year-old girl actually be cool and look hot? no. can he actually be cool and look hot? no."

an old friend on a new beau
"he reminds me a lot of you. he has the same sense of humor as you do. he's always laughing at little side-comments he makes to himself."
"uh....is that supposed to be a compliment?"

a couple girls during a Troy postmortem
"even if I was five years old, if Brad Pitt was my babysitter, I'd probably molest him."

a former co-worker at the coffee shop where I used to work told someone else that though we didn't talk much, he remembers me for one exchange I had with a customer:
"how's the holiday blend?"
"it's pretty good if you don't mind the taste of ass."

puerto peñasco



more overheard

"I told her I gave up jesus for lent. that didn't go over too well."

"what else is coming out this summer?"
"the bourne identity something. what'd they call it? the bourne extermity?"
"I think that's the porn version."
"'it doesn't know what it is, it only knows what it was trained to do.'"

"when I get drunk enough, there isn't much I'm not great at."

"the only movie I fell asleep during was little women."
"you missed the knife fight at the end."

if food be the music of love




there often comes a point in a dating relationship where a couple no longer worries about how they eat in front of each other. many couples reach a point where neither of people involved mind when the other stuffs their face so enthusiastically they end up wearing part of their food. some couples never really reach this point. others reach this point and hang out there for a little while before drifting back to some level of daintiness.

granted, there is no single explanation for this shift; perhaps, it's the mark of someone no longer trying to impress their significant other and therefore indicates loss of interest. perhaps, it's a sign of someone no longer worried about losing their significant other and therefore indicates a certain degree of comfort and trust. whatever the reason may be, this is not something I am considering at the moment. the fact is I'm not considering much of anything at the moment because I'm too busy stuffing my head full of food.

color me glamorous.

a pause in the action allows my flailing brain to catch its breath and keep from drowning in a sea of liquified meat and pita. I come to the sudden unfortunate realization that my mouth and part of my face are covered with tzatziki. I say unfortunate because I have my hands full with a disintegrating gyro. now, I'm stuck because if I set the gyro down, it'll completely fall apart and I'll have to eat it with a fork.

damnit.

I feel like certain foods-- sandwiches, burritos, pizzas-- though they may start to come apart as you eat them, they lose a certain essence of themselves (in this instance, "gyro-ness") if you give up, opt for daintiness and eat them with a fork. this may be simple stubborness on my part. this may be just borderline OCD. I really have no idea. all I know is I got two fistfuls of gyro and a faceful of tzatziki that I have to do something about. I pause to consider whether I can wipe my face with the side of the gyro or something.

or something.

mmmmm.... gyro.

instead of doing anything, I end up having one of those moments where I think I'm thinking, but in actuality, I just stare blankly at my food.

a giggle brings my attention across the table. funny how in all of this, I forgot that I'm not sitting by myself. I have no idea how long she's been watching this drama unfold. maybe I can act like this idiocy is intentional. maybe I can pass this off as one of my zany moments. I'm a zany guy. this is on purpose. this, of course, is how idiots who've been laughed at all their lives make a feeble attempt to laugh with.

her eyes gleam mischeviously. hrmmm... attempt failed. she sees right through it. I think I'm about to get embarrassed. she pauses a moment longer just because she knows I'm waiting to be filled in on a joke at my expense. with grin and a little flair, she strains to spread her arms as far apart as she can.

"this much." she says.

I'm dumbfounded. I'm normally not too quick on the uptake, but now I'm really struggling. what the hell is going on here? with a headful of tzatiki, there isn't room for the brain to work with. I give up.

"this much what?" I reply very tentatively-- still just sitting there with my mouth full and still clutching my gyro remnants like a goddamn twit.

"I like you this much."

warning, overwhelming cuteness has melted the brain.

gawk for a moment longer before swallowing, dropping the mess of food, wiping the face and finally, finally, at long last, leaning across the table.

I am people who know people

snagged off a random review of American Wedding
"Whenever I felt tempted to laugh or have an erection during this movie, I just thought of my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."

"I got a fortune cookie that said, 'happiness can be achieved by using your patience.' at first, I thought it had something to do with sitting around more and not looking for a job, but this is mainly because I occasionally confuse 'patience' with 'laziness.'"

snagged off my friend jess's blog
"if I was a book in the Bible, I would be Leviticus."

from another friend's email
"Good luck with this stuff you have to deal with now. Just remember, the more guys the Triads send at you at a time, the less competent they will be. You don't really have to worry until you face that one guy at the end with some bizarre distinguishing feature, and even then he'll just slap around a bit and rip your shirt until you either find his weak spot or remember some secret technique you learned from some guy who died earlier."

without further ado

yeah, I know I haven't posted in awhile and it sucks to start with just quotes, but shut up. I've been banging my last two neurons together all night and still no spark.

"if I knew a gay person who called me all the time, their ringtone would be 'dance of the sugar plum fairies.'"

"she makes me so mad. I just want to run up and kick her in the cooch."

"I feel like I'm too busy to be interested in all the things I used to be interested in. maybe just tired."
"you're getting old. life starts sucking so mother nature compensates by making you too tired to do things."

"she's a floozy just waiting to happen."

email from soho

...this town/apex of civilization/whatever-youwanna-call-it is pretty cool. i find a lot of closed doors, having little money and virtually no connections with which to open them, but i am surviving, slinging the ol' espresso in SoHo, one of the sibling fashion capitols of the world. the store [ pictured above ] is on the busiest intersection, with modeling agencies stretching in all cardinal directions which means a) the prices at the store is mad whack, b) disgustingly dumb pretty people walk in as the center of the universe. i must admit, i occasionally gravitate toward a celestrial body... unexpected perk #1: served Robin Williams a double espresso even though he didn't need it. u.p. #2: heckled Quentin Tarantino while hawking lemonade on sidewalk (note: heckle=offered with great timbre and volume). u.p. #3: shared an elevator with Milla Jovavich and intensely imagined saying "hi" or "chicken good."

sh(om)it

t-mobile sidekick

milan and I realized a few years ago that we have a slight problem with "want / need" distinction. I would say that this becomes "a problem" when you find yourself saying things like "I WANT food," but "I NEED a new digital camera." after a little while of training myself that I didn't NEED small brushed metal objects in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word-- incidentally, this training consisted of buying several small brushed metal objects--I went through a period where I could successfully distinguish between WANTing to go to vegas and NEEDing to sleep occasionally.

unfortunately, I think I'm having a relapse. I rediscovered this problem of mine as I was deciding whether or not I "need" a t-mobile sidekick. I had a moment of bewildering self-awareness in which my brain struggled to grasp the fact that I was considering whether or not it would be necessary to buy a second cell phone. like that fact was a wet thrashing salmon and my brain had small meaty hands with stubby fingers. or something.

with my brain occupied with that, I'll probably end up running out and buying the damn thing sometime soon.

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