TV is a funny thing. Nobody under the age of 35 actually "has" TV, yet we all watch what TV has to offer. It's only when we go visit our parents or somebody else who has decided they'd rather spend $100 a month than use the interwebs that we actually get to see TV, commercials and all.
And really, since we've already seen TV on Netflix, HBO, Hulu, or free streaming sites, it's really only the commercials that are truly new to us. Frankly, they are the most entertaining nowadays as well. If you haven't made it home to watch actual television in the last year, I did the work for you and will quickly summarize what you need to know.
Gold and silver coins? They're skyrocketing because China wants their own iPads now so the price is going to head back up to oil embargo levels from the '70s. $50 bucks an ounce--any day now. Luckily, you can buy coins from a 1-800 number at the low cost of $29.90 an ounce. But they're not purely altruistic here--you can only buy 5 at a time. Moderated generosity.
The following diseases and illnesses are now treatable with low (or severe) side effects: less boners, more boners, hot flashes, allergies, allergies while getting boners, peeing too much, too little, or peeing on things in a reckless manner, arthritis in your boner while peeing, and diabetes. (apparently oatmeal is no longer good enough for that last one). Oh, and there's hope for you post-menopausal women experiencing painful intercourse that lube doesn't fix; there's just one catch. If you're post-menopausal AND pregnant, you're out of luck. Except, of course, for the 50% discount on all Adam&Eve products that can--pardon my pun--fill the gap.
Since the commercials are now really the shows, that relegated television programs to, well, commercials. I'm sure these are available on the Netflix, but some were new to me. Worst show? Celebrity wife-swap, where Dee Snyder and Flavor Flav (Flave? Hmm.) swapped wives for a week. Or less than a week for Flave, as Mrs. S was fed up at Flave for getting high and buying french fries for the baby instead of skydiving with her (true story).
Best show? Betty White. She basically hosts a show where old people go on the street with hidden cameras and fuck with people. Brilliant idea. Nobody ever expects the old geezers of anything, so they get away with some good shit.
But, even with all this entertainment, a day or so is about enough. I had my fill at about 2AM on the first night and found myself flicking my laptop open to catch up on The Walking Dead. No commercials there unfortunately, but at least they're done with the damn annoying Governor. And is Daryl going to hook up with the teenage blonde girl? I don't know if it's illegal, or what it says about me, but I'm cheering for it. If it IS illegal, I'm sure it's just a treatable condition that Daryl has--and I know there's some new medication out there that will cure it right up.
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Sunday, March 16, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
Where I Do Not Explain What I'm "Doing."
As of today, I'm changing the title of this thing and not doing whatever it is I was doing (or not doing) before.
Sometimes when I come back to Iowa--and specifically, to dad's back in McCausland--I begin to lose track of "real life" and "actual stuff." What day/year/month is it? Not sure. Too many days of scrounging for food, doing nothing, and drinking beer at the BS seem to scramble my brain beyond its capacity to remember facts or information. I find myself hanging out with Grandma more, too, as my inattention appears to be remarkably similar in effect as her slowly-yet-jovially creeping Alzheimer's. "Did I already take my medication today?" One of us said. I don't remember who.
The internet keeps me going though. There's something magically comforting in the knowledge that, no matter how hard you might try, there is nothing original you could think or create or do. Someone, somewhere, is already on it. But what have I contributed to this mass of intergalactic security? Not much, sadly. Well, not sadly, as I suppose sadness would require some sort of active opinion on the subject, which--as I've explained--is often sucked into the vortex of swamps, bad cell service, and "ingredients" rather than "food."
I can say, with some confidence, that recently I was on an expedition to a far away town for 8 hours of tattoo-getting (no, *I* don't have a new one--at least that's visible to my own eye). I remember the name of the place we went to only because of the matchbook I took from there, which states: "CAUTION: These Matches Could Burn The Shit Out Of You" which, at least to me, was a rock of absolute truth in otherwise inane modern-day marketing. In fact, I was so enamored with that particular warning that I failed to notice the small print beneath, which says "Pound 'em till you piss!" I'm not sure what that means exactly, but I remember at some point having drank just enough to figure out what it meant and directing myself to make a note of such an important discovery in my phone's notepad. Apparently I forgot to do so.
Today I'm doing (trying) laundry and taking a shower. I actually started my car and drove to a place as well, though I think nicotine craving had something to do with that. I have not, however, responded to any texts that say "what r u up to" or anything of the sort. Describing what I'm "doing" would entail more doing than anything I could try to describe, so I ignore those sorts of questions. (note: if you are a friend who likes to use "what r u doing" sort of information requests, I would suggest more specificity. Perhaps "Are you wearing pants right now? Or other, similar, binary type questions.) What snapped me into such productivity today? My best guess is that a few law school grades from this past semester came in this week.
Ostensibly, this past semester I was enrolled in a bankruptcy law course. The class met 3 times per week, at 7:30 A.M., and required two textbooks. The more clever among you could already deduce several things from these basic facts. I'll confirm: no, I didn't go much (I seem to remember going to 3 classes, but I might have gone to 4 when I was up all night with insomnia and digging novelty), no, there was no attendance policy, and no, I didn't buy the books (though the "code" ((I've always loved that word)) book was given to me by a friend who convinced me that I should take the class). Instead of going to class (or much of my other classes, for that matter) I spent much of this semester finding cheap beer at new places with interesting characters who, frankly, provide much more education than 99% of the classes I've ever taken. I even remember thinking, as Rokkosauros sang "Glory Hallelujah" at the top of his voice while hugging old Ron from the Silver Leaf, that there were people out there who would forego these experiences in favor of "responsibility" and "going to class." I wish them all the success in the world, but I don't hold out much hope.
As some of you "rememberers" might remember, the Shreves-lawschool approach involves a credit-style approach to each semester. Skip everything, do the minimum required, find adventures, and put it all off on "life-credit". Then, for 3 weeks at the end of each semester, the bill comes due and it's time to buckle down. Hard. So, as usual, I did, and spent 3 weeks almost always sober and usually getting a normal amount of sleep. By day, I studied. By "studied," I mean "learn the course from the beginning just in time for the test." Bankruptcy was of course involved, but I had missed so much--and knew so little--that I was actually concerned about passing the class. I worked hard enough to actually know quite a bit about the subject though, and felt positively adequate as I headed in to take the exam. Unfortunately it was the hardest exam yet, and for the first time in law school I actually considered the possibility that I did not pass a course.
But then grades came in, and I got an A. This is not a point of bragging where I'm trying to explain that I was smarter than I thought or expected on a subject. I--quite literally--fell so far behind on time that I skimmed the last 1/4 of the questions and answered more questions with snap-guesses than I did with higher-level thought processes. Is law school grading truly random? Was I the luckiest guesser out there? Was the test so difficult that most of the normal (read: not drunk at the Silver Leaf) students panicked and gave up? We'll never know. What I can tell you is that, at least so far, my two best semesters in law school were the one where I tried the hardest, and the one where I tried the least hard. There's some sort of lesson in that, but I'm not sure I know what it is.
For a final thought, if anyone who reads this and knows a fella with the last name "Smallwood" (seriously) and wants to buy me a Christmas/birthday present, get his '47 Gibson guitar off him and give it to me. That thing was the guitar equivalent of dating Elizabeth Hurley right before, during, and after her appearance in the movie "Bedazzled."
I heard a buzzer, so either my velveeta noodles are done (it doesn't SAY you can't microwave them) or my laundry needs put in the dryer. Until next time.
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Sometimes when I come back to Iowa--and specifically, to dad's back in McCausland--I begin to lose track of "real life" and "actual stuff." What day/year/month is it? Not sure. Too many days of scrounging for food, doing nothing, and drinking beer at the BS seem to scramble my brain beyond its capacity to remember facts or information. I find myself hanging out with Grandma more, too, as my inattention appears to be remarkably similar in effect as her slowly-yet-jovially creeping Alzheimer's. "Did I already take my medication today?" One of us said. I don't remember who.
The internet keeps me going though. There's something magically comforting in the knowledge that, no matter how hard you might try, there is nothing original you could think or create or do. Someone, somewhere, is already on it. But what have I contributed to this mass of intergalactic security? Not much, sadly. Well, not sadly, as I suppose sadness would require some sort of active opinion on the subject, which--as I've explained--is often sucked into the vortex of swamps, bad cell service, and "ingredients" rather than "food."
I can say, with some confidence, that recently I was on an expedition to a far away town for 8 hours of tattoo-getting (no, *I* don't have a new one--at least that's visible to my own eye). I remember the name of the place we went to only because of the matchbook I took from there, which states: "CAUTION: These Matches Could Burn The Shit Out Of You" which, at least to me, was a rock of absolute truth in otherwise inane modern-day marketing. In fact, I was so enamored with that particular warning that I failed to notice the small print beneath, which says "Pound 'em till you piss!" I'm not sure what that means exactly, but I remember at some point having drank just enough to figure out what it meant and directing myself to make a note of such an important discovery in my phone's notepad. Apparently I forgot to do so.
Today I'm doing (trying) laundry and taking a shower. I actually started my car and drove to a place as well, though I think nicotine craving had something to do with that. I have not, however, responded to any texts that say "what r u up to" or anything of the sort. Describing what I'm "doing" would entail more doing than anything I could try to describe, so I ignore those sorts of questions. (note: if you are a friend who likes to use "what r u doing" sort of information requests, I would suggest more specificity. Perhaps "Are you wearing pants right now? Or other, similar, binary type questions.) What snapped me into such productivity today? My best guess is that a few law school grades from this past semester came in this week.
Ostensibly, this past semester I was enrolled in a bankruptcy law course. The class met 3 times per week, at 7:30 A.M., and required two textbooks. The more clever among you could already deduce several things from these basic facts. I'll confirm: no, I didn't go much (I seem to remember going to 3 classes, but I might have gone to 4 when I was up all night with insomnia and digging novelty), no, there was no attendance policy, and no, I didn't buy the books (though the "code" ((I've always loved that word)) book was given to me by a friend who convinced me that I should take the class). Instead of going to class (or much of my other classes, for that matter) I spent much of this semester finding cheap beer at new places with interesting characters who, frankly, provide much more education than 99% of the classes I've ever taken. I even remember thinking, as Rokkosauros sang "Glory Hallelujah" at the top of his voice while hugging old Ron from the Silver Leaf, that there were people out there who would forego these experiences in favor of "responsibility" and "going to class." I wish them all the success in the world, but I don't hold out much hope.
As some of you "rememberers" might remember, the Shreves-lawschool approach involves a credit-style approach to each semester. Skip everything, do the minimum required, find adventures, and put it all off on "life-credit". Then, for 3 weeks at the end of each semester, the bill comes due and it's time to buckle down. Hard. So, as usual, I did, and spent 3 weeks almost always sober and usually getting a normal amount of sleep. By day, I studied. By "studied," I mean "learn the course from the beginning just in time for the test." Bankruptcy was of course involved, but I had missed so much--and knew so little--that I was actually concerned about passing the class. I worked hard enough to actually know quite a bit about the subject though, and felt positively adequate as I headed in to take the exam. Unfortunately it was the hardest exam yet, and for the first time in law school I actually considered the possibility that I did not pass a course.
But then grades came in, and I got an A. This is not a point of bragging where I'm trying to explain that I was smarter than I thought or expected on a subject. I--quite literally--fell so far behind on time that I skimmed the last 1/4 of the questions and answered more questions with snap-guesses than I did with higher-level thought processes. Is law school grading truly random? Was I the luckiest guesser out there? Was the test so difficult that most of the normal (read: not drunk at the Silver Leaf) students panicked and gave up? We'll never know. What I can tell you is that, at least so far, my two best semesters in law school were the one where I tried the hardest, and the one where I tried the least hard. There's some sort of lesson in that, but I'm not sure I know what it is.
For a final thought, if anyone who reads this and knows a fella with the last name "Smallwood" (seriously) and wants to buy me a Christmas/birthday present, get his '47 Gibson guitar off him and give it to me. That thing was the guitar equivalent of dating Elizabeth Hurley right before, during, and after her appearance in the movie "Bedazzled."
I heard a buzzer, so either my velveeta noodles are done (it doesn't SAY you can't microwave them) or my laundry needs put in the dryer. Until next time.
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Thursday, October 3, 2013
What Does Your Browser History Say About You?
Yup, not a clever title here. Rather than give any updates, let's just take a look at shit I've been looking up recently and see what, if anything, can be gleaned about the inner workings of my mind. I'll pick out 5 random ones:
Firebombing of Dresden.
Sluts. (Specifically, "what is a slut?")
Fantasy football.
Naked mole rat.
Charles Ramsey
So...yeah. Each of these has a perfectly normal explanation, but you know what? You don't need to know. I think it would be better for your imagination to concoct a story that somehow connects these events rather than me explaining each one. Or, we could just say that your browser history either shows nothing, or everything about you. Take your pick.
And, by the way, what is a slut? What does that term mean to you? (Yes, these are the debates I get drawn into while at law school). I gave up trying to define it on my own, and "real" dictionaries weren't cutting it, so I went to urbandictionary.com which was extremely helpful.
So helpful, in fact, that there were 56 pages of user-uploaded definitions--including hypothetical conversations where "slut" was used in a sentence. I recommend wasting an hour of your life reading through them.
But my favorite definition? "A woman who doesn't get paid for sex."
Ha! Kids these days.
Anyway, out.
Caleb
PS Oh you wanted something extra? Well go look up Charles Ramsey's "Dead giveaway" remix on youtube. And then read more about the guy, and look up some of his other interviews. My kinda guy.
PPS Related to that PS, my neighbor Wildcat has a friend that comes over sometimes name'a Melvin. He's even funnier than Ramsey, and I get to drink beer with him now and then. Life can be awesome sometimes.
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Firebombing of Dresden.
Sluts. (Specifically, "what is a slut?")
Fantasy football.
Naked mole rat.
Charles Ramsey
So...yeah. Each of these has a perfectly normal explanation, but you know what? You don't need to know. I think it would be better for your imagination to concoct a story that somehow connects these events rather than me explaining each one. Or, we could just say that your browser history either shows nothing, or everything about you. Take your pick.
And, by the way, what is a slut? What does that term mean to you? (Yes, these are the debates I get drawn into while at law school). I gave up trying to define it on my own, and "real" dictionaries weren't cutting it, so I went to urbandictionary.com which was extremely helpful.
So helpful, in fact, that there were 56 pages of user-uploaded definitions--including hypothetical conversations where "slut" was used in a sentence. I recommend wasting an hour of your life reading through them.
But my favorite definition? "A woman who doesn't get paid for sex."
Ha! Kids these days.
Anyway, out.
Caleb
PS Oh you wanted something extra? Well go look up Charles Ramsey's "Dead giveaway" remix on youtube. And then read more about the guy, and look up some of his other interviews. My kinda guy.
PPS Related to that PS, my neighbor Wildcat has a friend that comes over sometimes name'a Melvin. He's even funnier than Ramsey, and I get to drink beer with him now and then. Life can be awesome sometimes.
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Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Oh, So You Want More Of My Post, Do You? F*CK SINKS.
Fine then. I'll post. Since I covered "innuendo" in the title, I'll cover "snarky" here and tell you that I'm posting because I want to and not cuz you told me to.
And since my theme has been to not-post, acknowledge my not-posting, makeup for not-posting with broad posts, then promise more posting, we'll go for something completely different.
You know what both confuses and angers me? Sinks. You heard me. I gripe about sinks all the time, but have never taken the time to officially raise awareness of this important issue until now.
What's wrong with sinks? Let's start with what they are: a big bowl, with a faucet that pours water, and some mechanism to turn the water off/on and control temperature. How could they f*ck that up you ask?
Simple. They put the faucet TEN MILES AWAY from where you stand, and it only extends a half inch out into the bowl. So you have to bend like a sorority girl and--without contorting your hands--try to get the trickle of scalding/freezing water to wash away your soap.
Here's a couple basic examples:
Standard, right? WHY THE HELL IS THE FAUCET SO CLOSE TO THE FAR SIDE OF THE BOWL? Even mildly generous sinks like this make it a frickin pain to get both your hands comfortably under the faucet.
Don't give me that "yeah but it works" bullshit, either. You, like me, have simply gotten used to twisting your hand back towards you in order to wash anywhere but the halves of your fingers that would otherwise be under the flow of water. Horseshit. Show me a diagram where you explain how you can wash your *entire* hand under this thing without unknowingly quoting Charles Dickens with your ASL-like hand contortions. Can't be done.
"Oh," you say, "but some of them are different!" Why yes, you. Yes they are. But are they any better? NOPE.
"What about the ones where the faucet is up high?"
Oh, you mean THIS guy:
Three things. First, these sinks almost invariably spew torrents of SCALDING WATER. Apparently height is directly correlated with temperature.
Second, it's STILL on the far side of where you're standing, so you have to uncomfortably reach across with your body. This means that you will be pressing your midsection against the counter or, at best, slightly bent with your arms out like an idiot.
Third, and leading to the next point, YOU HAVE TO PUSH AGAINST THE COUNTER to reach these. That sucks in its own right, but with high faucets you have a much greater amount of splash water. Which means that the counter closest to you is wet, and when you lean you get the "water line" of horizontal embarrassment across your pants.
You: "Shit! Do I have to explain that I didn't pee on myself in here or will everyone just understand that it's not possible to pee in the exact pattern of counter-water upon oneself?" That question needn't be answered, but you'll be thinking about it and convinced that people are staring at your crotchal area.
"What about above-counter bowls?" you ask?
Oh you mean like THIS:
Adorable, but no. Slightly less splash on the counter? Maybe. But you're generally not improving the "reach" problem, and plus your splashing is now free to hit the *other* side, often creating an entire "lake handwash" on the counter--especially in oft-used public places.
But more importantly here: what the f*ck? Are we on some kind of a timer here? Wash your hands before the bowl fills up!? Yes, it drains like a standard bowl, but there's a mental element here. You're filling up a bowl of water that could tip, splash, spill over, etc. Your rational brain knows it's the same bowl, but your Indiana Jones brain knows that you HAVE TO WASH YOUR HANDS BEFORE THE BOWL FILLS UP!
Ain't nobody got time for dat. Plus, look at that soap bottle. Can it extend into the sink so that it doesn't drip onto the counter? (don't get me started on soap dispensers). Nope, you have to apply the soap and THEN safely elevate your hands to the bowl.
On top of that, how pretentious are these above-counter bowls anyway? Seriously. Get over yourself. All that time and effort in redesigning the standard bowl and you're MAYBE 2% better. But 75% more douchey, so is that a trade-off you really want to make?
Look, I understand that sink problems are, in the scheme of things, not that big of a deal. But think of how often you use them; even a small annoyance goes up to major annoyance when you deal with it many times in a single day.
For instance, this guy.
Yup, this is in the law school bathroom. Pretty much everything that can go wrong is present. Huge counter that requires me reaching 8 miles across to the faucet? Check. Perpetually wet counter to always worry about leaning against? Check. Handles that dispense only scalding or freezing water? Got that. Oh, and bonus? These don't gradually turn on. Nope. You carefully ease the handles towards you, millimeter by millimeter, until finally weapons-grade water pressure blasts you and everything in it's path.
Oh, and they're always out of paper towels. And usually out of soap.
Quit fucking this shit up, people, and let's get a decent design going for a sink. We're better than this.
Tweet
And since my theme has been to not-post, acknowledge my not-posting, makeup for not-posting with broad posts, then promise more posting, we'll go for something completely different.
You know what both confuses and angers me? Sinks. You heard me. I gripe about sinks all the time, but have never taken the time to officially raise awareness of this important issue until now.
What's wrong with sinks? Let's start with what they are: a big bowl, with a faucet that pours water, and some mechanism to turn the water off/on and control temperature. How could they f*ck that up you ask?
Simple. They put the faucet TEN MILES AWAY from where you stand, and it only extends a half inch out into the bowl. So you have to bend like a sorority girl and--without contorting your hands--try to get the trickle of scalding/freezing water to wash away your soap.
Here's a couple basic examples:
Standard, right? WHY THE HELL IS THE FAUCET SO CLOSE TO THE FAR SIDE OF THE BOWL? Even mildly generous sinks like this make it a frickin pain to get both your hands comfortably under the faucet.
Don't give me that "yeah but it works" bullshit, either. You, like me, have simply gotten used to twisting your hand back towards you in order to wash anywhere but the halves of your fingers that would otherwise be under the flow of water. Horseshit. Show me a diagram where you explain how you can wash your *entire* hand under this thing without unknowingly quoting Charles Dickens with your ASL-like hand contortions. Can't be done.
"Oh," you say, "but some of them are different!" Why yes, you. Yes they are. But are they any better? NOPE.
"What about the ones where the faucet is up high?"
Oh, you mean THIS guy:
Three things. First, these sinks almost invariably spew torrents of SCALDING WATER. Apparently height is directly correlated with temperature.
Second, it's STILL on the far side of where you're standing, so you have to uncomfortably reach across with your body. This means that you will be pressing your midsection against the counter or, at best, slightly bent with your arms out like an idiot.
Third, and leading to the next point, YOU HAVE TO PUSH AGAINST THE COUNTER to reach these. That sucks in its own right, but with high faucets you have a much greater amount of splash water. Which means that the counter closest to you is wet, and when you lean you get the "water line" of horizontal embarrassment across your pants.
You: "Shit! Do I have to explain that I didn't pee on myself in here or will everyone just understand that it's not possible to pee in the exact pattern of counter-water upon oneself?" That question needn't be answered, but you'll be thinking about it and convinced that people are staring at your crotchal area.
"What about above-counter bowls?" you ask?
Oh you mean like THIS:
Adorable, but no. Slightly less splash on the counter? Maybe. But you're generally not improving the "reach" problem, and plus your splashing is now free to hit the *other* side, often creating an entire "lake handwash" on the counter--especially in oft-used public places.
But more importantly here: what the f*ck? Are we on some kind of a timer here? Wash your hands before the bowl fills up!? Yes, it drains like a standard bowl, but there's a mental element here. You're filling up a bowl of water that could tip, splash, spill over, etc. Your rational brain knows it's the same bowl, but your Indiana Jones brain knows that you HAVE TO WASH YOUR HANDS BEFORE THE BOWL FILLS UP!
Ain't nobody got time for dat. Plus, look at that soap bottle. Can it extend into the sink so that it doesn't drip onto the counter? (don't get me started on soap dispensers). Nope, you have to apply the soap and THEN safely elevate your hands to the bowl.
On top of that, how pretentious are these above-counter bowls anyway? Seriously. Get over yourself. All that time and effort in redesigning the standard bowl and you're MAYBE 2% better. But 75% more douchey, so is that a trade-off you really want to make?
Look, I understand that sink problems are, in the scheme of things, not that big of a deal. But think of how often you use them; even a small annoyance goes up to major annoyance when you deal with it many times in a single day.
For instance, this guy.
Yup, this is in the law school bathroom. Pretty much everything that can go wrong is present. Huge counter that requires me reaching 8 miles across to the faucet? Check. Perpetually wet counter to always worry about leaning against? Check. Handles that dispense only scalding or freezing water? Got that. Oh, and bonus? These don't gradually turn on. Nope. You carefully ease the handles towards you, millimeter by millimeter, until finally weapons-grade water pressure blasts you and everything in it's path.
Oh, and they're always out of paper towels. And usually out of soap.
Quit fucking this shit up, people, and let's get a decent design going for a sink. We're better than this.
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Friday, January 25, 2013
Out Of Con-text
Sometimes when I'm bored (sorry, that implies times when I'm NOT bored) I like to reread old text conversations, stopping to read random texts without any context. I do that because, well, they're hilarious a lot of the time. I recommend you try this game as well-- it's a lot of fun. So, for your enjoyment, here are some actual text messages from my phone. See if you can guess what they were about! Or see if you can pick out which ones I sent and which ones someone sent me. If you read this and recognize one of your texts, well.... nicely done.
Oh, and I'd just post the actual pictures of the texts, but it would A) require more work and B) pictures can sometimes slow this blog down.
Here is the first round of peeps.
TurtleGirl:
"Don't forget the antique pie safe to the left."
"No. Whore. I don't care if we're plural."
"Btw I would have been using cumboil on Eric."
"Maybe you can't tell but those are sea turtle lights in my bathroom."
"Words like 'bird autopsy' are being tossed around."
"Although I did like your Forrest Gump with the bubbles at the church."
Cbone:
"Anal on the first go is cool if it happens at a wedding, right?"
"come watch football, cards game, and we'll share stories about boners."
"fap time over"
"Hood rat, cholo. Then whatever."
"I really wish there was a "fag" button on Facebook so I could press it once I saw what u were listening to on Spotify."
The Gypsy:
"asians eating french toast with chop sticks!"
"It sounds like it involves balls"
"Though these rapscallions named the lumineers played a fetching tune"
"I had to defend my dominance title again this Christmas"
"And mind texting=helping tech take over the world. Duh."
Krust:
"If there's one thing I always say about you it's that you always do what's best for yourself. Er wait no...I never say that."
"hurry up, you tards of fuckery!"
"you, sir, are a whore whisperer... and I salute you."
"Every time I hear a goose I think of you."
"Send her on a trip to the looney religious theme park where she can see lifelike recreations of when cavemen rode their brontosauruses into the ark so Jesus could make wine or whatever."
Lohan:
"Hunnn-E. Moose tard."
"Alternate ending: it was a dick in a box."
"Trying to use telekinesis to teach the dog to use the litter box."
"Wearing your shirt all retarded? Then you aren't drunk enough."
"On is extra wasted and doing tai chi to the gangland psy song."
"Are you bleaching your asshole?"
"Rimming bottles with my ass might not be a joke tonight."
"You can't just renig Rick Ross!"
So... I like this game. Next time I'll pick a few more people and do the same! Kinda fun.
And for everyone who hassles me about not blogging more often: suck it. IdowhatIwant.
Finally, here you go. One picture.
Yup. Soak that in.
Caleb "Team Jacob" Shreves
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Oh, and I'd just post the actual pictures of the texts, but it would A) require more work and B) pictures can sometimes slow this blog down.
Here is the first round of peeps.
TurtleGirl:
"Don't forget the antique pie safe to the left."
"No. Whore. I don't care if we're plural."
"Btw I would have been using cumboil on Eric."
"Maybe you can't tell but those are sea turtle lights in my bathroom."
"Words like 'bird autopsy' are being tossed around."
"Although I did like your Forrest Gump with the bubbles at the church."
Cbone:
"Anal on the first go is cool if it happens at a wedding, right?"
"come watch football, cards game, and we'll share stories about boners."
"fap time over"
"Hood rat, cholo. Then whatever."
"I really wish there was a "fag" button on Facebook so I could press it once I saw what u were listening to on Spotify."
The Gypsy:
"asians eating french toast with chop sticks!"
"It sounds like it involves balls"
"Though these rapscallions named the lumineers played a fetching tune"
"I had to defend my dominance title again this Christmas"
"And mind texting=helping tech take over the world. Duh."
Krust:
"If there's one thing I always say about you it's that you always do what's best for yourself. Er wait no...I never say that."
"hurry up, you tards of fuckery!"
"you, sir, are a whore whisperer... and I salute you."
"Every time I hear a goose I think of you."
"Send her on a trip to the looney religious theme park where she can see lifelike recreations of when cavemen rode their brontosauruses into the ark so Jesus could make wine or whatever."
Lohan:
"Hunnn-E. Moose tard."
"Alternate ending: it was a dick in a box."
"Trying to use telekinesis to teach the dog to use the litter box."
"Wearing your shirt all retarded? Then you aren't drunk enough."
"On is extra wasted and doing tai chi to the gangland psy song."
"Are you bleaching your asshole?"
"Rimming bottles with my ass might not be a joke tonight."
"You can't just renig Rick Ross!"
So... I like this game. Next time I'll pick a few more people and do the same! Kinda fun.
And for everyone who hassles me about not blogging more often: suck it. IdowhatIwant.
Finally, here you go. One picture.
Yup. Soak that in.
Caleb "Team Jacob" Shreves
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Wednesday, September 26, 2012
We Just Met, And This Is Crazy, But I'll Post Something...Maybe.
Sometimes when I haven't posted in a while it feels like I can't post because it would just take too long to catch you up on everything. So, for your enjoyment, I present a random assortment of recent pictures from my iPhone. No particular order, and "just the tip" (as it were) of goings-ons, happenings, and shenanigans.
Worms is doing just fine, as you can see. She really loves the "tin foil ball on a string tied to my tail" game. Well, sort of.
She got a little tuckered out though.
I have a new crush. Which is funny, because there are two girls close to where I live that actually sort of look like the T-Mobile girl. One works at a vintage clothing store and looks very wholesome in her 50's style dresses. The other is covered in tattoos and works at a dive bar. Not sure which one I like more.
My buddy decided that he wants to bring back shorter shorts, make them classy and cool again. He's about 9 feet tall. I found him these. See, men *are* helpful shoppers.
Found some interesting new books to read.
Borrowed my mom's truck. Which is now MY truck. It's got a cassette player, wing windows, and an electric lighter. WIN. (adorable cousin with sassy mean face not included).
I've been making some new friends on the Twitter.
And, as you can see, I'll never be swimming in a pool again.
Speaking of pools. See the picture behind me? That's at my friend's pool. I posed for this to show the resemblance. Uncanny, right?
Big Gay thought he could sneak in some extra Cyclone and Cardinal shit at the BS while I was away. I disabused him of this notion.
Pretty excited about this one. We've decided to have a Jorts party, and I knew I'd have to have some killer accessories to win. So I found this. Wait until I add a mullet and some Milwaukee's Best!
This is kind of freaky. This is Prometheus, the demon-spawned minion from hell. He's attacked everyone in the neighborhood and spends the rest of his time staring at people with this god-awful screeching meow. We thought our prayers were answered when we saw our neighbors giving him away to some (poor) lady. A few days later, he was back. There aren't too many cats that I would be happy to see get run over in the street, but...
I'm not even going to explain this one. You can figure it out.
Still working on my Words With Friends. Apparently we have different dictionaries.
And.... this goes out to all of you hassling me about not posting very often. I'm working on it.
Stay tuned for a new series I'm working on for a friend. "Your First Year of Law School." I was supposed to have it done in August, but lesson number 1 about law school is never do anything on time. See the irony?
Caleb out.
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Worms is doing just fine, as you can see. She really loves the "tin foil ball on a string tied to my tail" game. Well, sort of.
She got a little tuckered out though.
I have a new crush. Which is funny, because there are two girls close to where I live that actually sort of look like the T-Mobile girl. One works at a vintage clothing store and looks very wholesome in her 50's style dresses. The other is covered in tattoos and works at a dive bar. Not sure which one I like more.
My buddy decided that he wants to bring back shorter shorts, make them classy and cool again. He's about 9 feet tall. I found him these. See, men *are* helpful shoppers.
Found some interesting new books to read.
Borrowed my mom's truck. Which is now MY truck. It's got a cassette player, wing windows, and an electric lighter. WIN. (adorable cousin with sassy mean face not included).
I've been making some new friends on the Twitter.
And, as you can see, I'll never be swimming in a pool again.
Speaking of pools. See the picture behind me? That's at my friend's pool. I posed for this to show the resemblance. Uncanny, right?
Big Gay thought he could sneak in some extra Cyclone and Cardinal shit at the BS while I was away. I disabused him of this notion.
Pretty excited about this one. We've decided to have a Jorts party, and I knew I'd have to have some killer accessories to win. So I found this. Wait until I add a mullet and some Milwaukee's Best!
This is kind of freaky. This is Prometheus, the demon-spawned minion from hell. He's attacked everyone in the neighborhood and spends the rest of his time staring at people with this god-awful screeching meow. We thought our prayers were answered when we saw our neighbors giving him away to some (poor) lady. A few days later, he was back. There aren't too many cats that I would be happy to see get run over in the street, but...
I'm not even going to explain this one. You can figure it out.
Still working on my Words With Friends. Apparently we have different dictionaries.
And.... this goes out to all of you hassling me about not posting very often. I'm working on it.
Stay tuned for a new series I'm working on for a friend. "Your First Year of Law School." I was supposed to have it done in August, but lesson number 1 about law school is never do anything on time. See the irony?
Caleb out.
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Tuesday, May 22, 2012
The St. Louis Effect
Every city has its own unique characteristics. Some cities have basic stereotypes (New Yorkers are assholes, vapid blondes in L.A., Providence has... Rhode Islanders, etc.) and other cities have certain representative images (Wrigley Field in Chicago, White House in Washington, AK-47s in Detroit, etc.). St. Louis certainly has its own uniqueness, but the most fascinating, and confusing, aspect of St. Louis has taken a bit longer to make its presence known. Now that it's out there, I've been trying to analyze it without much success.
I need your help.
What's the issue? There is a subtle (sometimes not-so-subtle) effect in play, consistently, involving couples in St. Louis.*
*[by "St. Louis" I of course mean the relatively normal and habitable portions thereof, and not, for example, the Afghanistanesque portions in East St. Louis.]
Before I spell it out, take a look at the following photos. I didn't take the time to stalk people and take my own photos, but these are real St. Louis people- taken from insidestl.com. (Great site, btw-- check it out if you want!)
See it yet? I purposely kept these on the subtle side, but if you're still not sure, here's "drastic."
With St. Louis couples, the chick is significantly better looking than the guy in an extremely disproportionate number of cases.
Take this as true. I'm not here to debate my accuracy on rankings, or whether it's weird to rank guys at all (most guys have a sense of this), or whether it's been statistically verified.
As I bring this up for discussion with a wide range of people in St. Louis, any argument is most likely going to be "maybe it's just all the couples you see" or something like that (which is true). What nobody has brought up is their own observations to the contrary. This trend is, for all intents and purposes, verified anecdotally.
[Note on anecdotal evidence: while you can't prove something to be empirically true, you can provide strong evidence against the opposite conclusion. For instance, I could say that there are no packs of wild hyenas roaming the streets of St. Louis because I haven't heard any reports on it. While this might not mean that there are no packs of wild hyenas in St. Louis, it is strong evidence that there are not lots of packs of wild hyenas in St. Louis. Thanks to the PROF for that one.]
So take a look at those first 5 pictures again, and come up with a ranking difference for each. I won't use 1-10 numbers (that's an altogether different post) of my own, but just the reasonable difference.
1: 2 points
2: 2 points (however you pair/average them)
3: 4 points (yes, I'm using bearded dude, for reasons that will be explained)
4: 2.5 points
5: 2 points
This is about the norm for St. Louis.
In essence, as you walked the streets of random (and habitable) St. Louis, and observed the first 10 couples you saw, 7 of them would have this effect. My reasonable guess for other cities, on average? 2 or 3. But why? Why, St. Louis?
I'll go into what we've got so far for working theories. But first, there is another St. Louis characteristic that must be explained, as it may bear directly on this phenomenon.
St. Louis has a high number of dudes that are, for want of a term, St. Louis hipsters. They're not common enough to quite be "typical," but if you surveyed the most common subgroup of St. Louis and came up with a St. Louis Man, he would but thus:
28-34, bearded, visible tattoos (especially arm tattoos), piercings, and a lame non-baseball hat of some sort. He wears a shirt that proclaims his love of an indie band (that he's sure you've never heard of) and drinks some sort of craft beer (that he's sure you've never heard of). He's slightly pudgy, plays kickball every weekend, and hasn't met a subject that he doesn't know just a little bit more about than you. He'll be happy to explain this to you as he parks his scooter at the farmer's market.
Think Minneapolis hipster without the iPad or PETA shirt.
So what's the big deal? Surely guys dating women who are hotter than they are is common. Hell, I've mostly dated chicks that are, objectively, better looking than I am. But, we can all probably agree that:
1. Looks aren't as important in guys (confidence, humor, success, giant wieners, etc.)
2. Sometimes hot chicks are, ahem, awful human beings with low self-esteem and can easily be taken in by arrogant and less-attractive guys
But whatevs- while that is certainly true, it doesn't explain why St. Louis experiences this phenomenon much more often than other cities.
Let's look first at some simple explanations. Maybe St. Louis has, on average, less attractive guys?
A plausible theory, but for it to work women would have to be average or above-average in St. Louis. This, too, is plausible as my own observations would be that women here are, at least, about average.
But, here's the thing: the more you notice people in St. Louis, the more you realize that both women and men seem, on average, to be average. The St. Louis effect only seems to materialize in relationships; it doesn't apply to individual, single people.
Maybe there are just less available men than women in St. Louis, so market forces have raised the value of men.
According to the U.S. census, St. Louis is female-dominated by a margin of 51.7%--48.3%. This is 1% different than the total U.S. population. A factor, maybe, but there are a number of statistical caveats. (i.e., this is "total" St. Louis... what would the numbers be for "habitable" St. Louis?).
One time a bartender chick hinted at another possible theory when she smugly told me "Well, women go more for good personalities than good looks, so..." Hinting, perhaps, that St. Louis is just filled with guys with great personalities.
This shall be dismissed out of hand. (And no, not just because there are an unseemly amount of Cardinals fans, either).
An explanation emerged based on the observation that there were a huge number of the above-mentioned St. Louis hipsters running around. These guys are famous for possessing a confidence that is neither warranted nor appropriate. Could this explain the discrepancy?
Maybe. That surely happens, as we all know. But let's be clear: I don't think that any of the guys in St. Louis who are dating chicks hotter than them are, on average, any better or worse than average guys throughout the county.
I'm sure that you could take the first 5 pictures and explain each of them reasonably and rationally. Great guy, tons of fun, lots of money, sweetheart, caring, dating since high school; whatever. Those are all possibilities and I'm not trying to puzzle out each picture (or real life couple) as I go. I'm taking a meta-view of this and asking why does this happen so often in St. Louis?
The weather? Maybe. It's just Missouri. Possibly true- but what does that even mean? Cardinal fans are just crazy, irrational, and make poor decisions in general. An interesting point.
My own theory is that there is no catch-all explanation for this phenomenon. Instead it's likely a combination of some or all of the factors I've mentioned. But I still feel like I'm missing something.
Maybe you have a thought?
Interestingly, the most creative explanation I've yet heard came from a friend who is a cop. And not a "your registration is expired" cop but a "did you murder this guy with your sawed-off or your AK?" kind of cop. While lamenting the considerable crime in St. Louis, he volunteered this:
"People in St. Louis know that there's a lot more murders and violent crime, so they view life as if it could end tomorrow. They make bad decisions because, statistically, they won't have to live with the consequences as long as most people."
That's a (poor) paraphrase. An interesting point though. What doesn't add up for me though is how you would get a girl to go from "did I just hear gunfire?" to "I better find a guy less attractive than me, fast!" But still; something to consider.
So what's the answer? I don't know. But I'm putting this out there, as true, for someone to ponder. And I will continue to bring it up in conversations throughout bars in St. Louis. (Note: the Bar-venture group from the last post? We're at 87 bars and counting).
Why keep bringing it up? Some have said to me, "Caleb-- what are you complaining about? This whole theory just means that YOUR stock is up and you have a better shot at dating a hotter chick."
True. BUT. I'm not comfortable taking advantage of this until I KNOW WHY IT EXISTS.
I gave this example: you're at a prison with consistently shitty food. Over time you notice certain inmates disappearing without explanation and the beef stew suddenly tastes delicious. I don't know about you, but I'm doing some research before I start asking for seconds.
Caleb "7" Shreves
Tweet
I need your help.
What's the issue? There is a subtle (sometimes not-so-subtle) effect in play, consistently, involving couples in St. Louis.*
*[by "St. Louis" I of course mean the relatively normal and habitable portions thereof, and not, for example, the Afghanistanesque portions in East St. Louis.]
Before I spell it out, take a look at the following photos. I didn't take the time to stalk people and take my own photos, but these are real St. Louis people- taken from insidestl.com. (Great site, btw-- check it out if you want!)
 |
| #1 |
 |
| #2 |
 |
| #3 |
 |
| #4 |
 |
| #5 |
See it yet? I purposely kept these on the subtle side, but if you're still not sure, here's "drastic."
Take this as true. I'm not here to debate my accuracy on rankings, or whether it's weird to rank guys at all (most guys have a sense of this), or whether it's been statistically verified.
As I bring this up for discussion with a wide range of people in St. Louis, any argument is most likely going to be "maybe it's just all the couples you see" or something like that (which is true). What nobody has brought up is their own observations to the contrary. This trend is, for all intents and purposes, verified anecdotally.
[Note on anecdotal evidence: while you can't prove something to be empirically true, you can provide strong evidence against the opposite conclusion. For instance, I could say that there are no packs of wild hyenas roaming the streets of St. Louis because I haven't heard any reports on it. While this might not mean that there are no packs of wild hyenas in St. Louis, it is strong evidence that there are not lots of packs of wild hyenas in St. Louis. Thanks to the PROF for that one.]
So take a look at those first 5 pictures again, and come up with a ranking difference for each. I won't use 1-10 numbers (that's an altogether different post) of my own, but just the reasonable difference.
1: 2 points
2: 2 points (however you pair/average them)
3: 4 points (yes, I'm using bearded dude, for reasons that will be explained)
4: 2.5 points
5: 2 points
This is about the norm for St. Louis.
In essence, as you walked the streets of random (and habitable) St. Louis, and observed the first 10 couples you saw, 7 of them would have this effect. My reasonable guess for other cities, on average? 2 or 3. But why? Why, St. Louis?
I'll go into what we've got so far for working theories. But first, there is another St. Louis characteristic that must be explained, as it may bear directly on this phenomenon.
St. Louis has a high number of dudes that are, for want of a term, St. Louis hipsters. They're not common enough to quite be "typical," but if you surveyed the most common subgroup of St. Louis and came up with a St. Louis Man, he would but thus:
28-34, bearded, visible tattoos (especially arm tattoos), piercings, and a lame non-baseball hat of some sort. He wears a shirt that proclaims his love of an indie band (that he's sure you've never heard of) and drinks some sort of craft beer (that he's sure you've never heard of). He's slightly pudgy, plays kickball every weekend, and hasn't met a subject that he doesn't know just a little bit more about than you. He'll be happy to explain this to you as he parks his scooter at the farmer's market.
Think Minneapolis hipster without the iPad or PETA shirt.
So what's the big deal? Surely guys dating women who are hotter than they are is common. Hell, I've mostly dated chicks that are, objectively, better looking than I am. But, we can all probably agree that:
1. Looks aren't as important in guys (confidence, humor, success, giant wieners, etc.)
2. Sometimes hot chicks are, ahem, awful human beings with low self-esteem and can easily be taken in by arrogant and less-attractive guys
But whatevs- while that is certainly true, it doesn't explain why St. Louis experiences this phenomenon much more often than other cities.
Let's look first at some simple explanations. Maybe St. Louis has, on average, less attractive guys?
 |
| Alex Clare: an 8 in St. Louis but a 7 elsewhere? |
A plausible theory, but for it to work women would have to be average or above-average in St. Louis. This, too, is plausible as my own observations would be that women here are, at least, about average.
But, here's the thing: the more you notice people in St. Louis, the more you realize that both women and men seem, on average, to be average. The St. Louis effect only seems to materialize in relationships; it doesn't apply to individual, single people.
Maybe there are just less available men than women in St. Louis, so market forces have raised the value of men.
According to the U.S. census, St. Louis is female-dominated by a margin of 51.7%--48.3%. This is 1% different than the total U.S. population. A factor, maybe, but there are a number of statistical caveats. (i.e., this is "total" St. Louis... what would the numbers be for "habitable" St. Louis?).
One time a bartender chick hinted at another possible theory when she smugly told me "Well, women go more for good personalities than good looks, so..." Hinting, perhaps, that St. Louis is just filled with guys with great personalities.
This shall be dismissed out of hand. (And no, not just because there are an unseemly amount of Cardinals fans, either).
An explanation emerged based on the observation that there were a huge number of the above-mentioned St. Louis hipsters running around. These guys are famous for possessing a confidence that is neither warranted nor appropriate. Could this explain the discrepancy?
I'm sure that you could take the first 5 pictures and explain each of them reasonably and rationally. Great guy, tons of fun, lots of money, sweetheart, caring, dating since high school; whatever. Those are all possibilities and I'm not trying to puzzle out each picture (or real life couple) as I go. I'm taking a meta-view of this and asking why does this happen so often in St. Louis?
The weather? Maybe. It's just Missouri. Possibly true- but what does that even mean? Cardinal fans are just crazy, irrational, and make poor decisions in general. An interesting point.
My own theory is that there is no catch-all explanation for this phenomenon. Instead it's likely a combination of some or all of the factors I've mentioned. But I still feel like I'm missing something.
Maybe you have a thought?
Interestingly, the most creative explanation I've yet heard came from a friend who is a cop. And not a "your registration is expired" cop but a "did you murder this guy with your sawed-off or your AK?" kind of cop. While lamenting the considerable crime in St. Louis, he volunteered this:
"People in St. Louis know that there's a lot more murders and violent crime, so they view life as if it could end tomorrow. They make bad decisions because, statistically, they won't have to live with the consequences as long as most people."
That's a (poor) paraphrase. An interesting point though. What doesn't add up for me though is how you would get a girl to go from "did I just hear gunfire?" to "I better find a guy less attractive than me, fast!" But still; something to consider.
So what's the answer? I don't know. But I'm putting this out there, as true, for someone to ponder. And I will continue to bring it up in conversations throughout bars in St. Louis. (Note: the Bar-venture group from the last post? We're at 87 bars and counting).
Why keep bringing it up? Some have said to me, "Caleb-- what are you complaining about? This whole theory just means that YOUR stock is up and you have a better shot at dating a hotter chick."
True. BUT. I'm not comfortable taking advantage of this until I KNOW WHY IT EXISTS.
I gave this example: you're at a prison with consistently shitty food. Over time you notice certain inmates disappearing without explanation and the beef stew suddenly tastes delicious. I don't know about you, but I'm doing some research before I start asking for seconds.
Caleb "7" Shreves
Tweet
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