Leaving the mind on idle

This little short comes from PK, a fellow I’ve met on my travels.

PK’s buddy was preparing for his first date with a lovely girl. It was still the early afternoon and he had some time to burn so he turned on the British children’s show, Blue Peter . For one reason or another, Blue Peter was doing a countdown of the 10 best wheel chair crashes. I find this a little hard to believe, but let’s roll with it. His friend can’t stop laughing and is literally gasping for air. He calls his father in who also shares the same sense of humor as his son. Soon they’re both in tears.

Later on that night, the date was going swimmingly. After a bit, the girl had to use the restroom. She was taking forever, so his mind started to wander. He started thinking of the wheelchairs, and started giggling like a madman. When she came back, she asked him what was so funny. He couldn’t control himself, something we all can identify with.  He assured her, that she didn’t want to know. Naturally, she became completely uncomfortable and thought he was laughing at her. After some prodding, he finally explained to her what she was laughing about. It’s worth noting that while he was explaining, he went back to gasping and was in tears. Needless to say, she didn’t say too much upon hearing the explanation.

The rest of the date went fine, but it had a definite platonic vibe to it. And I’m not talking the Craigslist platonic, she was cold as ice. She finished off the date with a brief kiss on the cheek. Not to be deterred, he texted her a few times later that week but never got a response. After awhile, he asked a mutal friend of theirs about what happened. He said, “Let me put it like this: She’s really close to her grandma. And she’s in a wheelchair.“

Club Guides: Rules of the dance floor condensed

Since my Rules of the Dance Floor post is by far the most popular thing on this site, I should release the condensed version for those who don’t like to read:

Club Guides: Beware the salsa guy

NOTE: This only applies to clubs that play house/hip-hop/etc. Clearly there would be no problem with a salsa guy at a salsa club.

There have been too many times that I’ve been to a club that is playing some new hit and then a guy walks up to some girls and grabs one by the hand and starts dancing Salsa. I’m too lazy to check not sure if anyone has wrote about this before, but I need to lay down a few reasons why this is causing distress to club goers everywhere. Here ya go:

1. It ain’t the appropriate music pal: Surprisingly, I know a little something about Latin dance and have even competed in it a bit (that will get its own post at some point. don’t worry). The beats and counts don’t often match to the music that’s playing. It’s incredibly awkward and strange to watch. This wouldn’t bother me as much if they were dancing Merengue , but 9 times out of 10 they are trying to dance Salsa.

2. The dancers hit everyone around them: Salsa is a dance where people reeeaallly have to respect the personal bubble. People often don’t drink as much at Salsa clubs as they do at normal clubs. I’m pretty sure that’s a reason why Salsa clubs close down despite being crowded. Anyway, the boisterous guy usually starts swinging the tumbling girl around and elbows and shoulders start being thrown around. I should mentioned that usually only one person has a remote idea of what they’re doing and it’s generally the guy doing the leading and trying (often succeeding) to impress the girl.

Anyway, the couple often will drink quite a bit of alcohol and not have quite as much control of their body. When Salsa guy starts hitting other non-salsa guys around him things can get ugly. Dramatic stares are exchanged and I’ve even seen it lead to some fights.

–

Now Salsa guy isn’t the worst type on the dance floor. There are others that are worse that I will get into on other posts. He’s usually harmless on a wide open dance floor, but if it’s crowded it just starts getting a little messy. And I don’t totally blame him either, often upon finding out that a guy can salsa dance, a girl will egg him on to dance it to the most anti-salsa music. This post was more of just a heads up. Shoot, maybe convince your meat headed pals to give him a warning before they start shoving or fighting him.

Because damnit, he’s just trying to dance

“She was like call me and I was like ‘ehhh’”"

So back in high school I was short. Like really short. I was about 5’2″ on my 16th birthday. I’m now about 6′. So I did eventually grow. Anyway, I have this friend Ditch who I’ve known since I was about 8 or 9 years old. He was always the guy that was head over heels in love and has been proposing to girls since the age of 10. When we got to high school, I was timid but I started getting some crushes on girls. I wanted to tell someone and get their advice on the matter so I would often would turn to Ditch. I noticed that no matter what girl I said, he would reply

“Oh yeah (said girl’s name) ? She was like call me and I was like ‘ehh’”

The ehh was always preceded by a quick shrug. It started to drive me absolutely crazy. It could be any girl in the school and he would say that exact same phrase. All the time.  I finally called him out about it and he genuinely didn’t realize it was grating and there was no malicious intent. We both had a quick laugh about it and didn’t really talk it about much.

Fast forward 6 or 7 years

So I’m drinking a few beers with Ditch and remembering the glory days of high school. We started talking about how dorky we all were and what some of our crushes are up to these days. Then I brought up the point that he used to always dismiss my crush and imply that these girls all wanted to call him. He laughed about and added some more info to the story. He said something like:

See the thing was, all these girls really -did- want to hang out with me. They would always ask me to call them to hang out. And I -did- always dismiss it. The reason was because they wanted me to hang out and help them shop and pick out clothes.

It certainly shed a new light on the matter.

When white lies go nuclear

Earlier in my college years i took my first upper division reporting class. It met once a week and was widely considered one of the hardest classes in the journalism school. It required us to go out and report on two different stories a week. And these were proper news stories. We had to have at least 2-3 sources and their phone numbers (teachers would call them periodically to see if you actually interviewed them). By the way, it’s a pain in the ass to get people to give you the time of day for an interview if your only news affiliation is a class. If you were caught lying in anyway shape or form…well, you don’t want to know. To make matters worse, we had certain types of stories we had to cover (a couple crime, court, community, a speech,etc), but we were allowed to pick which stories we did each week. None of us had any real experience reporting and this class was an absolute pain in the ass.

Since they wanted to ease us into the class, we only had one story due our first week. Being the smart guy that I am, I opted to get my court story out of the way. So I went onto the county’s website and picked out a hearing of something that involved a brutal murder. Upon arriving at the courthouse, I came across the unfortunate news that the hearing had been rescheduled for the next Monday. This was Friday and my story was due to the next day at 5. I frantically tried to scramble and find some other case I could observe, but I had no luck. I emailed my teacher and said that I would take the F for the story. She never responded and I hoped to put the matter behind me.

When Monday rolled around (again this class met once a week and this was the second class of the semester), I sat down at a workstation for 4 with two other people. One was a 20-something guy and one was a very pretty 20-something girl. Since everyone in the class was reeling from rushing in their first assignment, the guy and the girl naturally just wanted to talk about it. The conversation went something like this:

Guy: Oh man, that was a bitch to complete. Did you get it in?

(I ignore question pretending like he was just asking her and try and look at my computer)

Girl: Yeah barely. I spent hours working on it. How do you think you did?

(Still staring at something vitally important on my screen)

Guy: Oh I think I did absolutely terrible. What about you?

Girl: Yeah, same. (turning to me) How about you?

–

Shit. I was horribly embarassed. For one thing, I have my sense of pride on the line here. First impressions are important and I don’t want the slacker of the class. For another thing, I don’t want to leave a bad first impression with the girl.

So in that millisecond I took a gamble and I replied:

Me: Oh yeah, totally. It was really difficult, right? Ha ha.

(And then I proceeded back to my pressing work on the computer.)

When the class started, our teacher started talking about the stories everyone turned in. She had already failed a lot of people for various reasons (typos, poorly written, etc) and she noted that the highest grade on the first story was an 82. Yikes. Maybe I wasn’t in such bad shape. Then she started to give an example of a “real life situation.” I noticed that her eyes started drifting towards me. She started mentioned that sometimes stories and sources fall through.

Uh oh. Uh oh. Not good.

Then she said someone in the class hadn’t turned in their story as she continued to make more and more eye contact with me. And then she “if you wouldn’t mind me using you as an example…”

I started shaking my head back and forth in quick, short motions and gave her what I assumed to be the most pleading eyes I’d ever given someone.

“…Matt didn’t turn his story in. Lucky for him, I’m going to allow each of you to drop your lowest grade on a story. Sometimes sources just fall through and that’s apart of life. Matt learned that the hard way the first week of class. He’ll just have to make it up and turn in another story”

The amount of embarrassment coursing through my veins was painful. All I could do was stare forward at her with my mouth slightly open and my eyes squinted. Needless to say, I was at a complete loss of words.

For the rest of the class I quietly avoided eye contact with everyone, especially the people sitting at my desk.  The incredibly long class (it was only once a week) finally ended and people started grabbing their stuff. I decided I should at least wait for the people at my workstation, specifically the cute girl, to leave. As the guy and the girl grabbed their stuff and started leaving, she said:

Girl*: See ya later

Me: Yeah! Take it easy!

Girl: Good luck on your story (walks off)

ouch. moral of the story: just suck it up and be honest. or avoid teachers that will throw you to the fucking wolves.

 

Nervous laughter + tipsy = BAD THINGS

Courtesy of MorphoMir

The first weekend I lived with my AZ roommates, we went around our apartment complex looking for a party to crash. After some sketchy wandering, we heard some loud music coming from an apartment. After climbing over some drunken obstacles on the stairway, we entered the party. It was one of those parties in a small apartment where there are maybe 5 places to sit and half of the space in the living room is taken up by a beer pong table and flip-cup table. Despite the apartment being packed, a girl saw 4 pseudo-comfortable guys saunter in and had to question them.

Her: Hey guys how you doing?

Us: Uhh…good…good

Her: Sooo…who do you guys know here?

(Uh oh. This is a critical question in this sort of situation. The wrong answer could lead to some serious trouble. You must choose wisely. My best advice: When someone asks who you know at a party filled with white people, either say Mike, Mark, Matt or..)

Us: John! We know John!

Her: Ohhhh! I LOVE John! I think he’s somewhere in the kitchen. Anyway, my name is (something), nice meeting you! Have a good time!

After that, we did the usual party stuff and met all sorts of people (never met a John) and participated in the usual drinking-related party games. After one too many lost/won games of flip cup, I was feeling preeeettty buzzed. My buddy Jazz and I started talking to these two girls. It was typical superficial stuff that most people don’t appear to pay attention to or remember. We started discussing where we from when this little exchange/joke began my downfall:

Me: So where you from?

Girl 1: Oh I’m from this house down the street, it’s a pretty short walk from here.

Girl 2: I’m from Thailand, so it’s a really long walk from here.

Maybe it was the nerves, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe I just thought it was the finest comedy I had ever heard, because I burst out into a fit of laughter. I was in tears. Long after they had stopped laughing, I was still going along at full strength. It was Lebron James reacting to Donyell Marshall kind of funny. Jazz finally said, “Man, it’s not that funny.”

I pulled myself together and continued on with the conversation, albeit to confused faces. Something that should be noted about me is that I space out. I used to do it all the time when I was younger, but I still do it from time to time nowadays. As we continued talking, I stop listening and hopped in my mind’s TARDIS and took off to a far away place. I’m not sure what I was thinking about, but eventually I started thinking about the girl’s joke again.

uh oh

The sheer brilliance of the crack started to overtake me again, as I was sipping my beer I couldn’t hold back the laughter…

Courtesy of Wikipedia

I spit out all of the beer all over Jazz’ jacket. Jazz said, “Wow, you just spit on my jacket.” Everyone stared in shock for a moment and I blurted out, “I’m sorry it’s the joke again!.”

The girls after that weren’t interested anymore and politely found an excuse to leave. I guess if there is a moral to this story, it’s that laughter is the best medecine, except when it is used towards possible love. and muddled with alcohol.

Oh Jazz and I are still very good friends.

Club Guides: The Rules of the Dance Floor

Now, as I have stated, I am by no means a smooth guy at a club. I don’t even write this blog as some sort of way for guys to pick up girls. I just like the silliness of bar and club culture and I experienced some stuff that was embarrassing at the time, but I later laughed about. I just wanted to share it. I’m certainly not the “Pickup Artist” who looks like a mixture of Canada, a Dr Seuss book, and Tommy Lee.  Anyway, most of this comes from my little ventures onto the floor and by observing other people…mostly failing.

So I present to you: The Rules of the Dance Floor

1. Don’t be afraid to approach a circle of girls on the dance floor. Girls (wisely) usually head to clubs with friends of theirs. They’ll head to the dance floor and form a circle all facing one another. They dance half-heartedly, they sing full-heartedly, and they generally seem uninterested in the guys around them. Guys, although it’s intimidating, can approach the girls. The trick here is eye contact. If the girl is interested, the eye contact might linger. This is good but…

2. Don’t get too close to a circle of girls on the dance floor! Creepers never have much success. If you see that circle of girls on the dance floor, odds are they aren’t going to like some random guy running up behind them grinding into them. Generally this leads to a mother hen pulling her friend the other way and giving the serial grinder the cold shoulder.

3. Approach the floor with a buddy. In my mind, nobody trusts the lone wolf on the dance floor. Most guys seem to have some luck meeting a girl on the floor if they out there with a loose plan of team work. Maybe just approach out there and enjoy (or pretend to) the music. Don’t face the buddy straight up and both of you should gravitate towards the prospective group of girls. Your group of dudes really shouldn’t get bigger than 3. When 4+ guys approach the dance floor, instinct takes control and the guys either go crazy stomping around and spilling drinks singing to one another or they create a stone henge formation and stare off into the distance with a forlorn look. Seriously.

4. Make note of the eye contact. So let’s say your out there with your buddy or two and you are near your circle of girls. If one of the girls make eye contact with you a couple of times, then gravitate a little closer. That said, you know what a hate stare looks like. If a girl is giving a look that looks like you killed one of her family members or your run of the mill terrified look, just leave her be. But if she gives you those few glances, gravitate a little bit forward and…

5. Become the Tiger!! OK. So that’s a little bit extreme. But this is by far the best part to watch at a club. This is the time where the guy slowly approaches the girl and moves behind her. At this point concerned glances are exchanged among her friends. Everyone is looking to see if you got what it takes. It’s fuckin’ Judgment Day. Match up your chest with her back and proceed slowly. Don’t run into the back of her, just enough so she knows your there. If she is interested in dancing with you, she will look at you and back up into you. TADA! You are now dancing with the girl. Make sure you don’t get all handsy though.

But wait, she didn’t do that…

6. Know when to call it a game.

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So it didn’t work. Her friends pulled her away, she gave you the ring face, it just didn’t come together. What can you do at this point? Walk. Away. Live to fight another day! Chin up! Cliche inspirational phrase! But seriously, the worst thing you could do is keep going for her. Everybody watches everybody on at the club, don’t be that guy who keeps getting rejected.

That about wraps it up. As I said, these rules are from my oberservations. This is not meant to be a scientific guide and I am by no means a ladies man. But shoot, I have to share what I have seen in the wild!

Swing and a miss

One evening about a year and a half ago, my buddy Den and I decided to head to the now shut down Bettie Ford Cocktail Therapy club/bar. Typically this club is packed with a few too many guys and the DJ is mediocre. Den and I didn’t care because we are on a mission that night to bar hop to as many places as we could. About 6 bars into the night, we arrived. All I really cared about was getting my one drink at the bar before moving on but Den recognized some girls that went to our high school and decided to chat them up a bit.

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Here’s the thing: I didn’t really know the girls that well and the music was pretty loud, so it was one of those awkward moments where you can’t really hear one another speaking. It was painful silence despite some totally sweet club hits playing. Since I have the bizarre habit of dancing, alone in this case, on the dance floor when i have a few drinks in me, I did just that. I left Den and the girls behind and strode out to the floor.

After a little while of abiding by the rules of the dance floor (post to come later), i made eye contact with (from what I could tell through the darkness) was a cute girl and next thing I knew, we were dancing!

We did the usual meet and greet bit. She had just gotten her masters from UCLA at 23 (!) in microbiology (!!) and had just moved to Portland and was kinda new to the scene. I was 22 with a year left on my journalism degree and was just back home in Portland for the month. During this time her friend would periodically come through and tell me (drunkenly) that I was a cute and good guy.

Then things went south

So we had danced a bit, chatted a bit, what comes next? I thought of all the movies and tv shows i had seen.

Offer to buy her a drink!

So I got up the courage and began this little dialogue

Me: So I’m going to get a drink, you want one?

Her: You’re really going to buy me a drink? Sure!

Me: Great

(now most guys would just head to the bar, but I was so shocked that this actually worked I just had to investigate this)

Me: Ya know, you are the first girl I had ever brought a drink for!

Bad bad move. Looking back, so many girls would have thought I was such a creeper, but this one actually liked the genuineness of it and asked me:

Her: Really? Why am I the first girl? (fishing for some lovely compliments)

(Unfortunately, I was still hung up on my previous mistake)

Me: Oh I don’t know, you just seem pretty cool and awesome!

Her: Ok..let’s go get the drink

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As we made our way to the bar, I ordered us both cran and vodkas, I figured it was a safe bet. After some more chatting her friend (the one that complimented me) approached with her boyfriend. The two girls start talking to one another and I figure this would be a good time to start casually chatting with the boyfriend. Ya know, talk about sports, politics, music, and that one crazy guy on the dance floor.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get that far. I introduced myself and upon hearing his name, I was in disbelief. The alcohol had made me a little off my game. His name was Dawson. At that moment in time, I only thought there was one Dawson, and he was fictional! I actual begin to debate this poor guy as to whether his name was really Dawson. I interrupted the girl I had been chatting and dancing with all night and whispered in her ear:

Me: What’s his name?

Her: Dawson

Me: Shit.

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Well soon after that, her friend and Dawson left and this girl decided to stay with me. It wasn’t quite the same after that. We danced some more and she was clearly anxious about something. Abruptly she told me she was going to take off and hugged me goodbye. What could she have been waiting for? Then it hit me a few days later. She wanted me to ask for her phone number. Well, I totally forgot that and met up with Den who had been watching and nearly slapped me for not putting it together.

Live and learn!