"It's a Mute Point"

"No, I'm pretty sure it's not a mute point. If it were a mute point you wouldn't be saying it aloud to me right now would you?" Is what I wanted to say. I also wanted to say, "And isn't it terrible about all those autistic children who are moot and don't matter at all?"

Is it really that tough? C'mon people! They are two distinctly different words with different spellings, meanings, and pronunciations! And I'm not talking about people with limited education! On and on it goes. Everyday some person in a position of authority, or esteem, or which requires higher education uses one of those words incorrectly! Of course when I am interacting with these people in a professional capacity I cannot shout my frustration about their idiocy. In those situations I choose to pretend I have selective mootism. See?!!? See how stupid it looks when someone uses them oppositely?

When I become President, or Sexiest Man Alive, whichever comes first, I am going to pass a law allowing everyone to make a Citizen's Arrest of anyone who confuses these two words. Much like bad drivers who are ordered to attend a defensive driving class, the moot/mute people will have to go to a special class to learn the difference between these and other similar words. I only hope that when these dolts are in class they remain moot so everyone can hear what the instructor is saying.

On a marginally related point, The band Mute Math is really very good. I enjoy them immensely and highly recommend them. I wonder how their career might have turned out differently if they were Moot Math? If you looked at my high school transcript you'd see that math was a pretty mute subject for me. In fact you could say that my grades would imply that the instructors might have been moot. Or is that mute?

My Momentary Friends

Despite how you perceive me here, I actually do have friends in the real world. Don’t laugh, I do. We all have many different kinds of friends though. We have friends from school, friends from work, friends in our neighborhoods or apartment buildings, and of course our blog friends. We also have what I like to think of as “momentary friends.” These are people who may enter our lives for only a moment every day or once a week, but in many ways are as important to us as are the friends for whom we profess love and longing.

It could be the cashier at the supermarket you always go to because she has a nice smile and makes small talk about the weather. The security guard outside your office who holds open the door as you leave each day. The girl at Supercuts who cuts your hair and asks about your plans for the weekend. The guy who says hello as he passes you on his nightly walk down your street. Or perhaps the blogger who updates almost daily with a heartwarming story or amusing anecdote. We all have about a hundred of these people in our lives and for me I enjoy their momentary friendship immensely. I think we all do. As much as family or friends whom we know by name, these people also provide us with a sense of security. Often, more than “real” family or friends our “momentary friends” are dependable. They’re always there for us with that smile and hello, or perhaps only a knowing nod. Day in and day out, sometimes for years these nameless people are part of our lives and I miss them and worry about what happened to them when they don't show up in my daily routine.

The fun for me is providing them with names and stories. I like to imagine who they are outside of that moment in time when our paths cross. How and why did they come to be part of my life every day? The best part though is naming them.

Some of the names we give these people are flattering and some are not. No matter where any of you live, I think you’ve all met my friend, “Man with bad toupee.” Then of course in every neighborhood we all know “Woman with enormous ass who’s always bending over doing yard work.” “Girl walking dog” always seems so nice. You have no idea where she lives, but she appears around the corner every evening at the same time. One person I hate, but would somehow miss if he/she were gone is “Yellow Saturn Asshole.” This jerk parks his/her yellow Saturn in my street every day, completely blocking off traffic on that side of the street. As infuriating as this is to me, if they moved away I’d miss the little adrenalin rush I get as I curse them while I sit behind their parked car waiting for traffic to pass so I can get by. It’s only perhaps a 10 second inconvenience about 5 times a week, but that adds up to 50 seconds per week, 3 minutes and 20 seconds per month, or 40 minutes per year. That may not seem like much, but since I plan to live in my current house for the rest of my life, over the next 36 years Yellow Saturn Asshole will have wasted the equivalent of a full day of my life.

This post is dedicated to my favorite momentary friends: Hairdresser Nikki, Indian Girl at Dunkin' Donuts, Walking Man, Rollerblading Girl with dog, and Security Guard. Without these people and their momentary friendship my day would be incomplete. I could probably do without Yellow Saturn Asshole though.

The Hamster Ball People

We all know what a hamster ball is right? Generally I have no problems with hamsters or balls. What I do have a problem with is Hamster Ball People. What or who are Hamster Ball People you ask?

The Hamster Ball People are those people who move about the Earth as if they are in a giant plastic hamster ball, as if they are surrounded by a giant invisible bubble that is their space and theirs alone. Still not sure? Let me give you a few examples:

At the supermarket you push your cart along happily gathering what you need for the gourmet feast you're planning for that evening. As you turn the corner to find that one, last elusive item you need to complete your shopping, there sits a Hamster Ball Person. They are definitely in the middle of the aisle, cart parked sideways as they ponder what appears to be the most difficult decision of their lives. That entire aisle belongs to them don't you know? Or if perhaps they are actually pushing their cart, they are moving a such a glacial speed that you think their legs may fuse together, or already have. And of course they are in the middle of the aisle as if their invisible hamster ball won't let them move to either side to let other shoppers pass. Oh, that's right! They don't actually recognize that there are other shoppers because the entire store exists to serve their needs.

On the roads the Hamster Ball People aren't as egregious in their behavior, but they exhibit the same traits. The Hamster Ball People are likely to be the car that will stop regardless of traffic, on any road, without pulling over to the side, to read a sign, look at someones Halloween decorations, or just to point at a bird they saw.

At the bank the Hamster Ball People are the ones who on a Friday lunch hour with 40 people waiting in line will take up at least a half hour with the teller because they don't understand the ATM fee on their bank statement.

Another place the Hamster Ball People foul things up for the rest of men is in the men's room. Classic men's room etiquette insists that unless your bladder is in danger of literally exploding and splashing everyone within a 10 foot blast radius with urine and torn skin, you are not to ever use a urinal directly next to another man. The Hamster Ball People do respect this rule, but to an annoying degree. If there are only three urinals in a men's room, as there often are, A Hamster Ball Person will go to the middle, leaving anyone who follows them the choice of either standing directly next to them, or waiting until the Hamster Ball Person leaves. You ladies may just think men are being silly about this, but really, do you want to go to the bathroom with no divider between you and you're close enough that you might rub shoulders?

The best part of this post is that I know that from now on whenever you go somewhere and see someone displaying any of these behaviors in you're head you'll think "Hamster Ball People."

It's the End of the World As We Know It...

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."--R.E.M.

The Mayan calendar ends on December 21, 2012. Many people believe this is a prophecy of the end of the world. First of all if the world ends on December 21st that will seriously put a crimp in my birthday party plans for two days later. The new movie, 2012 coming to a theater near you in November, has whipped the apocalypse zealots into a frenzy and scared school children everywhere.

In the news yesterday a current day Mayan leader said, "Dude, seriously, I am so sick of hearing about this. If the world does end, don't try and pin it on us. Damn, did you ever think that maybe the guy making the caledar just died, got laid off, or was fired for stealing office supplies?" I may be paraphrasing a bit, but that was generally the gist of what he said. He also pointed out that in some other carved-in-stone tablets another Mayan referenced the year 4077. He didn't reference a specific day, but I'll be pretty damn mad if the world ends right before my birthday again.

My cell phone, pda, and computer all have calendar functions and all of their calendars go past Dec. 21, 2012 so there's all the proof you need that the world is not going to end in 3 years. In fact, I have written a post and dated it to be released to my blog for Dec. 22, 2012. Suck on that you Mayan calendar nutjobs.

Save the Boobs!

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I personally know of women as young as 28 who have been afflicted with breast cancer. If you're a woman don't wait, don't believe you're too young, don't think it can't happen to you. Get a mammogram. As Westley said in The Princess Bride, "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours."

If you're a guy you can join a breast cancer awareness walk. You can also visit the Susan G. Komen foundationand purchase some beautiful pink ribbon accessories for your favorite female. The proceeds benefit breast cancer research and the immediate impression of you as a sensitive guy will benefit you with your lady friends.

The Hodge Podge Post

First off, is 'hodge podge' supposed to be one word? Secondly, since I've been really busy I've been accumulating blog post ideas in my head all week, but haven't had the time to put them down here, so I'm going to dedicate a paragraph to each idea here in sort of a catch up post that will give you a cliff notes version of everything I would have expounded on if I had the time for a full post on each topic. Let's face it, any idea I have really only needs one paragraph anyway. I'm not that deep.

1. The Lack of Boundaries People No this isn't a group of amoeba like people from another planet who invisibly flow through our walls. These are the people in everyday life, who apparently lacking a professional therapist, suddenly and without warning decide that you are their new therapist. Sometimes it's a cashier at the supermarket as she's checking your items, "Do you have a coupon for this? I used to use these when I could afford them. Of course that was before my husband slept with my sister and then left me for her because he said I just didn't 'do it for him' in bed." Umm...no, I don't have a coupon. I ran into one such person, a co-worker, on my recent work trip. There we sat having a couple beers and watching Monday Night Football when all of a sudden, unrelated to anything, he says, "My wife is flying down to meet me. I had to pack my suitcase when she wasn't looking so she didn't notice I have Viagra. I can't wait until she gets here. I'm ready to go all weekend. That Viagra is great and my wife has no idea I'm using it." Yeah right. An overweight, hypertensive 45 year old guy is suddenly going at it like an 18 year old and you think she has no clue? ... is what I could have said but I didn't. I said, "Oh...ummm....can you believe Buffalo is beating New England. I don't see how they could screw this up."

2. Dear President Barack Obama, Is everything ok? Are you dead? It's been a whole 48 hours since you've been on television doing something completely gratuitous and unrelated to your job. Yeah, I know it's cool being the President and all, but how often are you actually doing any President stuff? You know what? I don't want to see you out playing golf with Tiger Woods. I don't care to see you laughing it up with David Letterman. I suspect you went to see him just to get tips for picking up women anyway, because frankly I've seen your dancing and that isn't going to help you. I don't want to have you breaking down football games for ESPN or filling out an NCAA Tournament bracket on television. Yeah, dragging the Olympic games to Chicago so we could spend billions of taxpayer dollars on buildings that will forever sit empty after 2 weeks of use, seems like a good idea, but is it really as important as...oh I don't know....running two wars in the Middle East and fixing our economy? You're on t.v. more than Oprah Winfrey. Dude, just sit in that Oval Office and make some useful decisions. (And I'd briefly like to say a quick Hello to my friends in Homeland Security and the F.B.I. whose internet security filters were tripped by an online mention of the President. You guys rock. Keep up the good work and keep reading The Phil Factor)

I'm Still Alive and Flying the Friendly Skies

Although I referenced a Pearl Jam song in the title I have to tell you that I can no longer stand Pearl Jam. In 1992 I loved the 10 cd, but now 17 years later Pearl Jam has produced nothing of significance and much like the word "Kardashian," every song from the 10 cd has worn out it's welcome in my mind. If Pearl Jam comes on the radio I cannot change the station fast enough.

Hopefully blogging hasn't worn out it's welcome in my mind. I'm posting today just to stay connected. After my post about running away I figured I might post just so you don't think that I actually did go off the deep end, although it was tempting. I think that perhaps after a work trip that was part vacation I got back to my day to day routine and it just sucked the life out of me. After 4 days where everything was light and carefree, returning to my daily responsibilities has bogged me down mentally and until I regain my equilibrium where I have the emotional energy to handle my days and write sarcastic stuff, I may not have a lot of creativity here. But, let me tell you about a weird couple on my flight home last week...

So, when checking in for any flight I routinely ask if the exit row seats are already filled. The reason being is that if you're flying coach, standard seating doesn't have enough leg room for anyone who isn't a member of the Lollipop Guild. The exit rows however are very spacious and often last filled by passengers whom the airline employees deem able bodied enough to help people out in the event of an emergency landing. Being the strapping young buck that I am, I always pass this test.

So I amble down the aisle to my seat. It turns out it's in the middle of the exit row. Two people are already sitting there. One by the window. One on the aisle. They're married. I assume the airline made a mistake but these two didn't have the assertiveness to speak up and ask to be seated next to each other. I offer to allow one to switch seats so they can sit together. They refuse. The airline wasn't in error. They don't want to sit next to each other on a 2 1/2 hour flight. They chose to force a complete stranger to sit between them.

Are you freakin' kidding me?!!? How weird is that? "Frank, did you take your pill?" "Frank could you hand this to the stewardess?" "Frank take your pill now." "Sorry we have to talk across you." No, you didn't have to talk across me! You could have just effing moved over so you weren't inconveniencing a handsome and charming but complete stranger! What the hell is wrong with you two? Do you do this on every flight you go on? I'm reporting you to Homeland Security. I don't care that you despise each other so much that you can't rub elbows for two hours. Try to act normal in public and then go home and sleep in your separate bedrooms! I think airlines need to start separating the cabin by social skills.

Remember my Escapist Fantasy Post?

Remember my Escapist Fantasy post from Aug. 30th? I said that sometimes I feel like I want to get away from it all because it feels like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders:



Well...I toook this plane:



And flew to this place:



And did this!



And I'm never going back! And if anyone tries to find me I'm going to drive away in this car:

Doppleganger

Doppelganger: German for "double walker", a shadow self that is thought to accompany every person. Some believe that only someone who knows the original person can also see the Doppelganger. Still others subscribe to the "evil twin" theory that doppelgangers behave in a manner directly opposite to the original person.

As of this writing, the world population is roughly 6,783,648,144. Is it possible that somewhere out there is another carbon copy of each of us? Are they living a parallel life somewhere else? Or, if each of us has both male and female genes, could we have a doppelganger of the opposite sex? Do we ever meet or see our own doppelganger? If we did and they were the opposite sex, would we be attracted to them? Would they be our "soul mate"? Or would it be more of a brother/sister feeling?

If the "evil twin" theory holds true, what do we do, knowing that the more good we do in life, the more evil our doppelganger will perpetrate? If we save a life, our doppelganger would take a life. If you met your evil twin, what would you do if you knew they were evil? If your evil twin is bent on destroying you, could you kill your own doppelganger? Would doing so destroy you both? Do we need a doppelganger? A balance? A cosmic yin and yang that makes the world go round?

How do we know that we are actually not the doppelganger? The shadow self for someone else? Could you be the evil twin and not know it?

This whole thing gives me a serious novel idea. I got dibs, so don't even think about it. And if I did have a female doppelganger, you know she would be really hot.

"I Love the Change of Seasons"

The picture here was my Saturday night. It is how I wish every evening could be spent. Sitting outside on a warm summer night. I know that most of you "love the change of seasons," but I'm not one of those. To me and the rest of the United States, Labor Day symbolizes the end of summer. To some this means changing leaves, cooler temperatures, and cocooning with family. To me the end of summer means shorter days, fewer opportunties to enjoy the outdoors, and work. Lots of it. And also since it's colder it Fall means I have to wear more clothes. With a body like mine, why cover it up?

Yeah, the leaves changing color are pretty, until my lawn is three inches deep in them and I'm speding two days filling over a dozen leaf bags. Then there's that whole winter thing. Some have espoused the virtues of fires in the fireplace, cuddling, snow angels, and snuggling. Or...you could see bitter cold, shoveling feet of snow from the driveway just so you can leave the house. Layers of clothes, specific footwear, and hats which just totally ruin my hair for the day.

I like sunshine and warmth. I don't have to shovel sunshine or scrape it off the windows of my car every time I just want to run to the corner store. Sunshine and warmth doesn't require a special wardrobe. Sunshine and warmth does knock out my power for hours. This being the case, I dress for success. You know how they always tell you to dress not for the job you have but the job you want? I dress for the weather I want. It is usually deep into winter before I finally acknowledge the season has beaten me once again and I finally begin wearing a warmer coat. I don't cave on the hat however. Nothing messes with the 'do. Enjoy your change of seasons, but I plan to ignore it in hopes that it will go away. I don't mean to sound like a seasonal Scrooge, but in the Northeast where I live summer is so fleeting I don't want to let it go.