Note to Self...

Never drink with a group of men who:

(a) provided you with your genetics, including an impressive resistance to alcohol, and

(b) have 30+ years of experience at drinking on you.

It doesn't matter how large you are

The Stalking Rule

Here's some good advice that I'm posting for public consumption, to help others who, like me, occasionally suffer from the tendency to not let things go with grace.

Here's a good rule to consider when you're trying to get in contact with someone who's not getting back to you:  Make three deliberate, straightforward attempts to get in contact with them.  Send them an e-mail to an address you know they check, leave a response in a blog or FaceBook account to which they frequently post, call and leave a voice mail, send a text message, etc.  Doesn't matter how you do it, just make three serious attempts to contact them.

If, after that, they don't get back to you, everything past that should be considered stalking and should be avoided at all costs.  In addition to keeping you from getting creepy, it may also help you maintain a scrap or two of dignity.  Or not, but that's up to you and what kind of messages you leave.

A Public Service Announcement

All right, ladies...because you need to know.

I'd like to take a moment to clear something up.  Many ladies of my acquaintance have remarked that their boyfriends/fiances/husbands/male friends just don't listen to them.  While this is occasionally caused by said ladies making poor choices in regard to the men they choose to date, it is, more often than not, caused by the women simply choosing the wrong time to hold a conversation.

To that end, I have compiled a list of the five times that you cannot speak with a man and expect any kind of meaningful content.  You also cannot expect him to remember the conversation or be held accountable to anything he agrees to when the conversation is brought up later.  (e.g., "You said we'd go antiquing today!" "Hmmm...yeah, that doesn't really sound like me.")  Some of you might say, "Wait, Josh!  I talk with guys all the time when they're doing these things, and they seem to have no problem talking!"  Talking?  Sure.  Talking's easy.  The mouth is moving and sound is coming out, but whether or not any significant part of his brain is assisting is another story (If you follow 'Starship Josh,' you want to make sure you're not talking to Id, or that's he's not on autopilot.)  A man in any of the following states will have his mind on other things and be unable to honestly contribute to the conversation.

He Cannot Converse When He:

1.) Is Hungry or is Eating - This a primal drive, here.  As the English writer George Eliot said, "No man can be wise on an empty stomach."  Even Einstein said, "An empty stomach is not a good political advisor."  He may be listening, but his full mental resources are being devoted to ensuring his continued survival, and not what Jane and Grace said to you during the meeting.

2.) Is watching TV or playing a video game - Even a test pattern or paused scene is dangerous, because men are mostly visual and the tv is a shiny source of bright light and colors.  If you want him to pay attention to you and not Evangeline Lily, have him turn it off.  However, if he can't pause live TV, it's at a good part, or he's on a winning streak, be prepared to have only his negative attention when you speak to him.

3.) Is Tired, Just Woke Up, or (in the case of what should be obvious) Sleeping - We once again get back to biology.  If he's about to go to bed, he will agree to call himself Sally-May and braid flowers into his hair if that's what it will take to get to bed without resistance, hassle, or aggravation.  When he's just awoken, he's probably not even sure what's being said to him...the first half-hour of being awake is usually done on autopilot due to the fact that very little of the world makes sense when you just wake up.  I'm not even going to discuss the last part.  I apparently once recited the entire Gettysburg address in my sleep, and I don't think I can do that when I'm awake.  Talking does not signify consciousness!  Just look at most politicians.

4.) Is Drunk - I mean, come on.  Do I really need to go any further?

5.) There is a Woman in a State of Undress anywhere in visual range - This includes you.  Yes, you have his immediate and undivided attention, but unless you're talking about sex, the head you want to engage is not in charge.  When they're a naked woman nearby, either all his blood has rushed to his crotch, or he is horrified yet unable to draw his attention away from the grim spectacle presented before him, even if he is no longer looking (Friendly tip: Don't volunteer at a nursing home.  Old women with senile dementia do strange things.)  Regardless of whether he's thinking "Mmm...boobies, it's what's for dinner" or "Oh, God, oh, God, they're brushing the floor!" I guarantee that any other topic is going to a distant second.

Here's a good rule:  Check and see if he's wearing pants.  If he's not, chances are good that he fits into one of the above five categories (any of them...# 3 and # 5 are the most likely, but #1 and # 2 can be possible, and #4 is usually the most likely at one of Songy's parties.


Thank you for your time.  Let's be careful out there.

I don't think the Tribune would run this

Personal Ad:

Large white man, humorous, caring, hopeless romantic, into theater, reading, and old comedies seeks funny, bright young lady with a warm smile and a brutal wit.

Failing that, he'll take a shameless, wanton harlot.

AAAAaaaaAAAaaaRRRgghhh!!!!

I have discovered the maxim of modern dating:

Bright, attractive, available, mentally stable -

You can only pick three.

If you're lucky.

I'm going to write a God Damn book

Attention Women:  I officially know what the hell I'm talking about.

Now, I realize this is a very bold statement, but read on.

A lovely young lady in I.S. at work has adopted me as an official apologist for the male gender (i.e., "Josh, why are boys so dumb and creepy?" "It's just how we are.  I'm sorry.  Would you like a few miniature chocolate bars?")  I'm fully ok with that, but there are times where it grows frustrating, namely when my advice is asked for and then cheerfully ignored.  Again, I'm fully ok with this, mostly because this is exactly what happens when any woman asks my advice and I foolishly provide it.  However, I now have proof.
I stop by to say hello this morning, and she drags me into her cubicle, waves of anxiety plain on her face.  As it turns out, she was worried about a man that she has known for a couple of weeks that she's going out with tomorrow.  This fellow was a hansome, charming young lawyer who had, just about every day for the past week, been sending her long e-mails full of interesting emoticons, and speaking to her every night, the two of them sharing involved conversations for, on occasion, hours.  The following is an exact quote:

"Josh, he didn't call me last night."

"O...k.  Well, did he have any reason to think you might be busy?"

"I was studying all last night."

"Ok, good!  Now, is there any way we might have knew that?"

"Oh, I told him that."

"..."

"But we've been trading calls every night!  Why wouldn't he have called?  It was his turn!"

"...because...he thought you'd be studying?"

She was also concerned about his morning E-mail, which was four lines long, and had no smileys.  She proceeded to ignore the calm and soothing things I was saying, and began to view panic as an acceptable option.  "Is he being distant on purpose?  Is he not into me?  Is he regretting agreeing to the date?  Is he saying I'm fat?"  (Ok, I made up the last one...but don't you ladies lie to me.  I know she was thinking it.)

I sighed, took a deep breath and told her not to panic.  "Calm down.  Listen to me.  First, he probably didn't call you last night because he knew you'd be studying and didn't want to disturb you.  Second, he probably didn't send you the e-mail version of 'War & Peace' because he sent the letter at (Josh checks timestamp) 9am and he was probably busy with all sorts of beginning-of-the-day stuff.  Lastly, he's really looking forward to your date tomorrow night.  He's probably just trying to plan a really great date, where he no doubt intends to treat you like the Pretty Pony Princess that he assuredly believes you to be."  (Pretty Pony Princess, or P³, was a spur of the moment thing.  Don't judge me.)

Needless to say, she was not reassured, and I decided to let her be, hopefully giving my advice time to sink in.

Half an hour later, she calls me and tells me that the gentleman just sent her an e-mail, in which he tells her:

a) He did not call her last night because he knows their conversations tend to go on, and he didn't want to distract her. (That's one!)

b) He was sorry about the meager e-mail this morning, but he'd just gotten into work and he was very busy.  (Two out of three!  Could Josh go all the way?)

c) He was really looking forward to their date tomorrow night.  (The Trifecta!  Victory is mine!)

But wait!  The secret bonus round!

d) He unfortunately kept the e-mail short, since he had to research and study a great deal about Horse and Equine Law.  (P³!  I even win the BONUS question!)


Let this be a lesson to you all.

I have learned an important lesson

Actually, I've learned TWO important lessons. First and foremost: If you're going to experiment with mixing drinks after getting off work on Cinco de Mayo, you need to make sure, whatever you do, that you DON'T start experimenting with the 151 Rum before anything else. 

Ouch.

After an hour of mixing and sampling, I'd used a third of my Bacardi 151, a quarter of a carton of pineapple juice, some spiced Rum, two matches, and all the Blue Curacao I had left.  Plus I'd scalded my fingers twice trying to pick us a shot glass filled with burning 151.  I was also shit drunk, and when people tried to ask me how to make my final yummy concotion, I couldn't exactly recall what proportions of what went into the mix.  So, when my boss called me to ask me how the work day went after his first day on vacation, I inform him I'm the "Easter Bunny," and that I enjoy "hippity hopping" down "Bunny Lane."  After a moment of silence, he says he'd always thought I exaggerated my antics when inebriated, and apologized for ever doubting me.  I told him that this was fine, and that I had to excuse myself to go "distribute Candy and painted eggs" before that "bastard Claus" started "working my turf."  He asked me if I thought I'd be sober enough to work on Monday.  I told him I promised nothing, and hung up.

Note to self:  Never give boss home telephone number.  Check.

I then went on to harass my friends, break an old wine goblet that I don't know how to replace, and drunkenly run a mock mass combat for my Exalted (roleplaying game) players, when I instituted a drinking game: whoever wins iniative takes a shot, whoever damages their target takes a shot, whoever gets damaged takes a shot, etc.  I then swiftly realized that since they were only playing their one character and I was playing three NPCs and a horde of Zombies, math was not on my side in this endeavor.

Again: Ouch.

The more astute of my readers may have noticed I said I learned TWO lessons in all of this.  And I did, although the second wasn't learned until this morning, which is namely this:  If, after a night of hard drinking, you plan on relaxing on your couch with a nice, virgin glass of pineapple juice, make absolutely sure that you are, in fact, grabbing your non-alcoholic glass of juice rather than someone's leftover Pine-gina before taking a big, hearty swig.

Say it with me, one last time:  Ouch, damn it.

I'm eating something solid and drinking a gallon of water, after making DAMN sure it's not actually coconut rum or vodka in disguise.  That could be bad, since I suspect my liver has put up a "Back on Tuesday" sign and gone fishing.

Perfect Timing

I need a moment like this every day.

So, I had just sorted the mail and was taking it upstairs to distribute it. As usual, I was listening to my iPod, working and rocking out at the same time (for maximum efficiency.) As I was passing the rest room, I realize that I had already drank two liters of water already this morning, trying to drown my cold, and needed to pee.

I walked into the men's room and went to the urinal. Right as I unzip and whip it out, my iPod starts playing Handel's "Messiah."

I think I'd have to go on record as saying that was the most awesome, ego-boosting piss ever.

Although, as I think about it, I'm just glad it didn't play "Falling Away From Me," or "Down With the Sickness." Even "I Touch Myself" would still be kind of fucked up.