Subterranean Transportation Hesitations

Everyone who has been in New York City knows that the subway is a part of life in the city. I try to avoid it as often as possible for a variety of reasons, but most of all because of a phobia I've had since I was little. I really blame my dad for this phobia. Actually, I blame my dad for most of the of seemingly irrational phobias I have, which, taken together, make me demonstrably neurotic. But this one in particular, which is unfortunate, because it's really a serious issue that comes up often in city life.

The situation would always go something like this.

I'd be standing on the platform just minding my own business.

Mistake no. 1: Standing too close to the edge.

Now, there's normally a wait for the subway, so there I would be, bored and blending into the scenery. I'd grab something to read to pass the time while waiting for the train.

Mistake no. 2: Introducing a distraction.

The real issue is that, important person that I am, it's likely that I've attracted the attention of someone who really has it in for me. I don't know how, maybe I flashed money unknowingly.

Mistake no. 3: Showing off a dime. EVERYONE wants dimes.

Alternatively, I imagine some sort of time-travelling situation in which someone from the future has been sent to prevent me from doing something great. Of course, having perfected time travel, these ne'er-do-gooders think that a subway accident would be the best way to get rid of me. Anyway, this is the hooligan whose attention I have now grabbed.

A common thug, surveying the scene to make sure there are no witnesses.

So this is what it comes down to. I'm reading my paper, a train is coming. Life is good. I will soon be several stations away. Then, this happens.

Mistake no. 4: Allowing yourself to be pushed into the way of an oncoming subway. This is the most serious mistake as of yet.

And the last thing that was ever seen of me would be this.

Mistake no. 5: Not getting between the tracks and allowing the subway to roll safely overhead. And no, that is not a safety harness made out of thread.

So there you have it. I don't like taking the subway, because I'm convinced strangers want nothing more than to give me a hearty shove in the back into oncoming trains. But if you are alert like me, you can avoid this unfortunate happening by keeping your back against the wall from the moment you set foot into a subway station.

A Few Suggestions for Facebook

I'm one of those people who gets annoyed whenever Facebook changes. I don't get annoyed because change frightens me (it does); I get annoyed because none of the changes are the sort of changes that Facebook should enact to make it a better social networking tool. Let's be honest, that's what Facebook is: social networking. And the point of every social network is to make the cool kids look and feel cooler and the dweeby kids (like that one who posts links to his own blog constantly) feel worse about themselves. So I sent Mark Zuckerberg an e-mail with these suggestions to make Facebook a better, less hospitable place. Here's a copy of the e-mail I sent him.

Dear friend Mark,
Facebook is really great, but sometimes when I use it, I can delude myself into thinking I'm cool. Could you change it around a bit to fix that? Here are some suggestions to help distinguish cool kids from not cool kids.

1) In addition to a "Like" button, how about a "Like... NOT!" button? That way, cool kids can use sarcasm, one of their best weapons, to demean people with statuses about Twilight or their own blog.

2) You receive a notification when someone accepts your friendship. Now man up and make Facebook gives out notifications when someone rejects your friendship. And make it go automatically to the newsfeed. If possible, let the person who rejects the friend request give a reason. Eg. "Brian rejected Luke's heartfelt friend request because Brian doesn't like to be friends with people whose girlfriend he has slept with."

3) Once you reach a certain number of Facebook friends, you should be able to steal friends from your enemies without them knowing. That's how it works in real life; it's only fair that it be like that in Facebook.

4) Only the person who posts something should have the power to delete it, no matter whose wall it is posted on. Otherwise, it's straight-up censorship. If I want everyone who looks at so-and-so's wall to know that so-and-so is a penis, so-and-so shouldn't be able to hide that.

5) On a related note, make gifts actually valuable, so that so-and-so will have a means to bribe me to take down that post about him being a penis. Acceptable gifts could be actual gift certificates to a place like Hooters, lottery tickets or other people's passwords.

6) Relationship statuses should have a blank left in front of them so that friends can fill in an appropriate adjective. Then there can be a run-off vote to see which adjective fit bests.
Eg. Brendan is ________ single. 

a) obviously
b) pathetically

c) reluctantly

d) ,ThanksToARestrainingOrder,

 e) all of the above

Hope to see these in the next update!

Your user,

-Brendan

So we'll see where this goes. He'll probably reply back and ask me if I have any more suggestions because these were so great, so if you have any pointers, feel free to add them!

Introducing my Stunt Double

I mentioned a while back that I was looking for a stunt double. Naturally, applications flooded in; I actually received two million* resumes. Of course, I had high expectations for the person who would stand in for me in all of the stupid things I do. I'm pleased to announce that the job was awarded to someone who met all of my requirements. Fearless? Check. Bears a strange resemblance to me? Check. Unable to distinguish good ideas from near-death experiences waiting to happen? Check. Almost entirely indestructible? Check. Meet my new stunt double.
*Two million is my new large number. I use it interchangeably with 'a lot.' eg: "Brendan, you don't have any friends, don't lie." "That's not true, I have, like, two million!"

Meet Miniature Brendan. Note his dedication; he even wears a "B."

It wasn't easy to settle on the right applicant for the job. I'll be honest, I was tempted to hire this next guy, but it didn't seem right. Something about him was just too cool. And I don't really want a stunt double who would make me look even less cool in comparison than I already do.

Damn, he even has a leather jacket and manly stubble.

What's more, it just wasn't realistic. I mean, shoot, he's even good with the ladies.*

*I've noticed that anyone who refers to women as a group as "the ladies" is generally not good with 'the ladies.'

"Ooooh, you're so manly. Hold me, please."
"Damn straight, I am. Hoo-ah!"

Then I saw how little Brendan did with the fairer sex, and it was comforting to see someone equally inept as I am.

"Um, hi. I'm Brendan."
"You idiot, can't you tell I'm on my bluetooth?"
"Oh. I'll go cry now. Nice to have tried to talk to you."

 But then there were some applications that I didn't consider for my stunt double, despite their awesome facial hair. These were the photos they submitted; I can only imagine what horrors they committed to end up in such a police lineup. It probably involved round yellow heads rolling around, dismembered hands, and torsos cleanly separated from legs.

Would ya look at that! They're the same height!

So that's my new supporting cast; keep an eye out for them as they help me document dangerous adventures in my life.

Toilet Paper Astounds Me

So before I begin this post, I should warn you that the inspiration for this came to me in the restroom, so to quote the New York Post movie reviews, there may be "references to scatological humor." Consider yourself warned.

So no shit, there I was*, without any reading material. Fortunately, maintenance sees fit to stock my bathroom with enough toilet paper to recopy most of Tolstoy's works onto, in case I had the urge or the time**.

*Haha
** While I was writing this, they actually added one roll to my supply. Yep. Needed that one.

Apparently how much TP I'm expected to use in a day.

 I've been told that toilet paper is a sheet-spinning read, so I picked up a roll. Well, it was a pretty quick read, but there was a surprise ending.  

Would ya look at that! Safe for septic systems!

Who would have thought! It's safe for septic systems! Shoot, I've been doing it wrong this whole time. I could've just flushed it! But really, of course it's safe for septic systems (right?). What's the alternative? And what happens if you flush toilet paper that is not safe for septic systems?

Next time, use Downy!

But because they say "safe for septic systems" on the wrapper, I suspect that there are alternate uses for the stuff, and that septic systems are just one of the many things you might be able to use it for.

Sterile for most urgent first-aid purposes!

Acid-free for all masterpieces of the written word!

Guaranteed to preserve your body for the afterlife!

It will still annoy your neighbors!

If you have any other uses for toilet paper, feel free to suggest additional photos, and I'll see if I can add them in. What else am I supposed to do with it, flush it? Gosh, no. Way to valuable for that.

Now that classes have started again for me (for those of you who don't know me, I'm still a college student), posting may decrease a tiny bit. But fingers crossed not. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. Tell your friends, and use that toilet paper to the maximum of its potential.

Comedy

So I owe the world an apology. Here goes.

Hey, World. For a long four days, I lost a lot of faith in you. You did not seem nearly as full of good people as I once thought you were. I thought you were filled with nasty people who lurk in shadows and, when the time is right, take my bike. I perceived your calm indifference to my plight as cruel disdain. I was wrong. You are a good place that treats me well; thank you for correcting my mistaken point of view.

What warrants this change in opinion? Well, I've been reunited with my bike, which is a pretty big deal to me. Spirits have been high; so high that many people having been asking me what drug I've been on, and more importantly, where they can get it. A typical conversation goes something like this:

Friend: My grandfather died recently.
Me: *grins blankly*
Friend: It was horrible.
Me: Aaaaaaaaah. You know that feeling you get when you have an itch on your back, and someone scratches it for you, really, really well?
Friend: He died of tuberculosis. His final words were hacking coughs in my direction. I think I'm wildly contagious, and I've definitely been coughing a lot around you...
Me: I feel like that, except plus the feeling you get when you kiss the girl you love.
Friend:  Brendan. Mortality, pain, suffering and loss.
Me: Mmmm. I feel like I'm in a Jack Johnson song.

So I may have lost a few friends this week because of insensitivity, but it doesn't matter that much to me, because I have my bike back. "But how?," you ask! Well, I suppose I should go back to the whole 'my bike was stolen' issue.

Here's the story that I didn't tell when the wound was too fresh. My friend Vick and I saw Scott Pilgrim vs. The World* on a touching man-date. We decided that the evening had gone well so far, and we didn't want it to end, so we went to the Pony bar** on 45th and 10th. I locked my bike up to a rack with two other bikes. I noticed that the rack was dangerously unattached to the ground, a lot like Shane, the wandering cowboy. "Nah, this will never be taken," I thought to myself.  An hour later, the rack was gone; Shane the rack had moved on, singing his lonesome cowboy song.  Thus began a dark period in my life; I looked suspiciously at all bike messengers, leered at bike racks, and shunned contact with the outside world and showers (not that these last two are that unusual).
*This is an awesome movie. It was like reading a comic book, playing a video game and watching a movie all at once. I recommend it if you enjoy fun things.
**This is an awesome bar. It serves beer! More specifically, it always has 20 delicious microbrews on tap for 5$ a piece.


Well, I went past the location where Shane the rack had disappeared from this past Friday. He was back; he didn't bring my bike with him, but he was there all right. "Those thieves are at it again!," I thought. I swore to myself angrily, and went up to a messenger who was unlocking his bike from that very rack. I noticed for the first time that the rack was stationed in front of a restaurant.

Me: *Trying to be as intimidating as Humphrey Bogart (I think I was as threatening as Elmer Fudd, in reality)* Is this your rack? 

Be very quiet. I'm hunting my bike.

Messenger: "Yes..."
Me: *Menacingly* Did you know I had a bike stolen from here Monday?
Messenger: Oh. A white one?
Me: Um... yeah?
Messenger: Yeah, it's inside. Want it back?
Me: Um... yes please?

I was so vewy, vewy wrong about the wocation and status of my bike. I also need to change my underwear from shock.

That was it. He went inside and talked to his boss, who rolled my bike out of the kitchen in the same shape it was in Monday. They had cut it off of the rack, and then they just took it inside and held onto it. They didn't sell it; the messengers weren't using it. They just didn't want it to be stolen if I left it there overnight. I was stunned, and in no state to talk. I fumbled for my wallet, handed the messenger a 20 dollar bill and hugged him through the tears. I then made out in public with my bike (more or less); after some PDA, I raced my way up Amsterdam avenue, emitting whoops of joy every time a taxi came within inches of killing me.

So, my bike is back, and all is well with the world, at least far as it pertains to me. And you know, I went back to where my bike was recovered that night because I was in the neighborhood. When I passed by, Shane wasn't there. "Come back, Shane! Come back!" I screamed to the empty city. And that's when the girl I was with ran away as quickly as she could.

God bless us, each and every one!

Tragedy

Because of the nature of recent events, this post may strike a more serious, meditative tone than usual (because that's really challenging to do). But yes, this post is my meditation on tragedy.

The recent tragedy that occurred was that my bike was stolen. I don't really expect the company that printed "Save Darfur" shirts to start printing "Please give a nice, well-meaning college student his expensive bike back," but that's the reaction I'd like to see. Then I'd like to get it back. More realistically, whoever stole my bike will sell it for a few hundred dollars to some customer who may or may not know that it's stolen, but who definitely doesn't care. So, that's sad.

But is this bike theft a tragedy? And if so, why? I've provided a few examples of situations that could be called tragic; I'm curious to know which of these really is tragic, and if there's something that sets them apart from those that aren't. I've done some evaluations on them myself, see if you agree with my logic...

Rules: Determine if the situation is actually 'tragic.' Read my interpretations afterwards.
1) That was horrible! He died in a tragic hang gliding/sky diving accident!
2) Boy, that hole-puncher tragedy was the worst thing that happened in the office last year. I can't believe she lost a leg from that.
3) That game of railroad chicken ended tragically for everyone on roller-blades.
4)  Tragically, he choked on a peanut m&m. Saving him with the Heimlich maneuver was the work of a moment, but the peanut m&m was wasted.
5) Man, what a tragedy that was when I found out that girl I met at the party was my cousin!

Answers:
1) Not tragic. He knew what he was getting into when he started pretending he was a bird. If anything, this was a very informative learning experience, but of limited usefulness, because once the lesson absorbed (approximately when the ground absorbed him), his ability to apply what he learned drastically decreased.
2) Tragic. And puzzling. Really, who would have thought this could have happened? And now she has one less leg, and the hole puncher is all stained.
3) Not tragic. If anything, morbidly amusing for the wonderful mental image it can create.
4) ABSOLUTE TRAGEDY. Any time a peanut m&m is wasted, it is a tragedy. This seems self-explanatory.
5) Tragic. Presumably, there is one less beautiful girl out of the dating pool. In case she remains in the dating pool, the product of that love would probably be a tragedy, a lot like in Jude the Obscure. Ew.

What I'm driving at is that tragedy, like a good ambush,  contains an element of the unexpected; it can't just be something upsetting that happened. On the opposite side, comedy should contain an element of the expected. Take this cookie monster clip for example. How will it end? Without even clicking, you know the answer. He will eat cookies destructively. And you will, at the very least, chuckle, if you have a heart.

The funny thing about my bike theft is that in a way, I did expect it. As I was locking it up, I noticed that the rack wasn't attached to the ground, and thought that thieves could conceivably take the whole rack. In this light, my bike being stolen  was pure comedic genius. But on a slightly more profound level, I think it really was a tragedy. Yes, I had conceived that it could have been stolen, but I did NOT expect it. I naively didn't think anyone would do such a thing, and wasn't concerned about it. The tragedy here is partly that my bike was stolen unexpectedly, but mostly that I've unexpectedly lost a good bit of faith and trust for man.

Sorry to get all profound on you, it won't happen often.

Deep Thoughts on Songs

I mentioned that I had been stuck in something mind-numbing and soul crushingly boring for the past week. It ended, thank God, and I got the same feeling I get when a traffic jam disappears into nothing. It's as if for a week, I was stuck in limbo with nothing to do but gnaw extraneous body parts off, and all of a sudden, everything cleared up without an explanation. So, I'm done with that, but I excitement is still pretty low, so this post is again centered on my road trip.

I love listening to music, and I do it pretty often. But most of the time, I have my own music collection with me, so I don't tune into the radio too often. The plan on the road trip was to have our music with us, too. However, what with Canadia not letting us across the border, we were unable to steal their electricity to recharge our mp3 players, so we had to turn to the radio. This has its benefits, of course. First off, it relieves the pressure to always have a good song on. That pressure is on someone else. More importantly, it's a conversation starter. All sorts of songs come on that you may have never heard, and let the judging, misunderstanding and interpreting begin.

Anyway, there were a few gems that we heard, and I thought you might want to be let in on the secrets of our conversation after 20 hours in a car over two or three days.

1) Love Story, by Taylor Swift. Sure, you've all heard it before, but it's fun to pick on. It's just so easy to do! I mean, I can understand that Taylor hasn't read Romeo and Juliet, but what about the songwriters? They're the ones who are blamed here. "I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress." Did I miss this part in Bill Shakespeare's version? From my foggy memory, this is distinctly different from what actually ends up happening. Heck, calling it a love story is fine, but get some of the details right. But my favorite part of the illiteracy is the little well written lyric (I think this is how it goes), " 'Cuz you were Romeo, I was a scarlet letter." Quick! Time for a list inside of a list interpreting this.
a) "Because you were Romeo, I wore a scarlet letter." The fact that he was Romeo caused her to commit adultery (with him, presumably). Heck, he's not going to marry you. Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, dummy?
b) "Cause you were Romeo ; I was a Scarlet letter." She is explaining why it can never work. He is Romeo, a perfect lover. She was a scarlet letter, a Hester Prynee, I imagine. She would never bring disgrace to him by letting their romance come to fruition.
c) This is a sentence fragment, and thus, it is impossible to determine what is meant by it.

2) Pray for You, by Jaron and the Long Road to Love. Silly me, I thought this was a gospel song when I first tuned into it. I'll be honest, I was frustrated that my hands weren't free to switch the channel when I heard the first bit of this song. But could you blame me? With softly sung lyrics like "I listened to the preacher, as he told me what to do/ He said you can't go hatin' others who have done wrong to you / Sometimes we get angry, but we must not condemn, / Let the good Lord do his job, you just pray for them," what else could it be but gospel? But then comes the guitar and drum beat, and you know something good is coming. Ah, a good old country song, bashing the woman who done you wrong. "I pray your tires blow out at a hundred and ten." A proper, religious sentiment.

3) Rain is a Good Thing, by Luke Bryan. I love a song that uses sound logic. Luke Bryan's thinking is that since "Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey, [and] whiskey makes my baby feel a little frisky,"  rain must be a good thing. Can't argue with that. Plus, he rhymed whiskey and frisky and made it work. Props to him. Also, according to Emily, the album this is on also comes with other treats, like the self explanatory "Drinking Beer and Wasting Bullets."


4) I Saw the Sign, by Ace of Base. This song isn't actually that funny. But it's better if you misunderstand it a tiny bit. See, I have no idea where this group is from, but when they sing, it sounds a lot like they're singing, "I saw the sun! And it opened up my eyes!" "Hey, good for you! You saw the sun? What color was it? You wrote a song about it, too? Shit, I just saw the sun and squinted a lot. But it felt good and warm! When do you think we'll get to see it again? Tomorrow? Sweet, I'll keep my eyes open this time. Maybe I can get a poem out of it."

5) Push, by Matchbox 20. I'll be honest, I get a bit of a warm, mushy feeling from a good love song. This one really struck a chord with me, and probably with anyone who has a romantic bone in their body. And what girl won't swoon when you steal this lyric and drop it casually in conversation, maybe right before dropping a ring on the ground before her and expecting her to pick it up. "I wanna push you around, yeah I will / I wanna push you down, well I will, I will. I wanna take you for granted, I will." Is he describing a dysfunctional, abusive relationship, or is there something else going on here? Maybe all the pushing is sexual, in which case I guess that part is Ok. Really, it's the "taking you for granted" bit that gets the cackles of my heart. Mr. Matchbox 20 was kind enough to send me the rough draft of that song, which had this as the chorus (he explained that he had to edit some of it out for time's sake, otherwise it wouldn't be popular on the radio): "I want to be sorta crazy about you for like, 2 months. Then I want to start taking you for granted, yeah, I think that will last a good year and a half. Then maybe I can cheat around while we're still dating, and always know I'll have some nookie to look forwards to if I don't get lucky in a bar. Then, once I find something better, I'll move on, yeah I will."

All of this makes me want to listen to more radio. As always, read, laugh, and share. It makes me happy.