Monday, February 23, 2009

I can be such a dick (and balls).

I was sipping a cup of tea while clicking around Facebook when I realized I hadn’t changed my status in quite some time. Something came to mind as I looked down at my mug. Well aware of the connotations, I typed up an update.

Andrew is tea bagging.

A couple of nights later I was on Facebook again when an instant message from one of my coworkers popped up from the bottom of my window.

Co-worker: Um.. you do know what your saying.. right?
Co-worker: Tea-bagging is the name of a sexual act.

I’m a guy. And I’ve been to high school. So, yes, I knew what I was saying. But I felt like playing along anyways.

Me: oh my!
Co-worker: Yeah.. uh
Me: i’m way too innocent to know that!!
Co-worker:Aw.. that is so insanely cute that I can’t stand it
Co-worker: I don’t mean that in a patronizing way
Co-worker: Seriously, you’re extremely good looking, and if you say you’re ‘tea-bagging” you’re going to get a lot of attention.. uh.. from guys.. taht you don’t want
Me: damn me and my inadvertant puns!
Co-worker: lol
Co-worker: yeah. tea-bagging is uh.. *blush* an oral sex thang in which uh.. the guy is uh.. *blush* standing over a girl and uh..
Me: okay, i better change it then

I went to the top of my profile and typed in a new status.

Andrew is cleveland steamering.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Stopping is essential.

$843. That’s how much it costs to keep my van from trying to kill me.

I was driving down 22nd and steered into the left turn lane to pull into Toys R’ Us. The arrow turned red, so pressed on the breaks.

And they broke.

The break pedal was to the floor, and I was still moving forwards. Into oncoming traffic. I whispered a “shit” as my still-functioning rear breaks screeched in an attempt to stop all 2 tons of my van. 50 feet later, I was a car-length into the intersection, and luckily not nose-deep in the rear of someone else’s vehicle.

Brought it in to the shop and got a bill for the aforementioned $843.

If I can recall correctly, I’ve had to get the breaks fixed three times and the coolant system four times. The suspension, breaks and windows have had to be fixed. And who could forget those three months in which the van kept turning off in the middle of the road for no reason at all. In the past year alone, I’ve paid over $2,000 on repairs to my van.

Kelly Blue Book lists my van’s value at $1,440.

Math says it’s time to get a new car.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Internet transmitted diseases.

Deanry: guess what i got yesterday
Me: herpes
Deanry: a twitter account
Me: same thing

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Love and lactose.

I don’t regularly shop at Trader Joe’s, but when my college friends are in town, I sometimes tag along while they stock up on groceries. I’d probably get pretty bored there if the store didn’t have a few new interesting selections to check out each time I visit. Tonight’s discoveries included sushi with carrot wrappers, chocolate-covered edamame, and a cute girl in the cheese aisle.

I caught a glimpse of her from behind. White iPod earbuds flowing along her black wavy hair. Fur-lined boots leading up her tight, blue pants. I figured she warranted a closer look. Grabbing a wedge of cranberry cheese next to her, I peered over as I gave it a whiff. Wasn’t too bad. The cheese or the girl.

If only picking up the girl was as easy as picking up the cheese. Talking to strangers at grocery stores has never been my thing, so I resigned myself to let standing two feet away from her be the closest our relationship could ever be.

I knew I could never get the girl. But I could still get the cheese. I told myself to remember to pick up a wedge before we left and walked back over to my friends.

A few minutes went by, and our group started heading in the direction of the cheese aisle. The girl was still there. I thought I’d get in a little more two-feet-away time, so I picked up the cranberry cheese and asked my friends what they thought of it.

As Gigi gave it her blessings, Lucas noticed a tub of cheddar pub cheese on the top shelf. He asked us if we thought he should get it.

“You should give it a try,” I heard from behind me. “It goes great with garlic pita chips.”

I turned around. It was the girl. She looked over at me with an awkward look on her face.

“Sorry, but is your name Jon?”

I was caught completely off guard. A bit puzzled, I looked back at her and replied, “No.”

“Oh,” she said back as she turned and quickly walked away.

As she disappeared around the canned food aisle, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell just happened. I thought I’d at least get a, “Sorry, you look like an old friend of mine,” or a, “You look so familiar,” from her as a follow-up instead of instantaneous retreat. All I could figure was it was one of three things:

1. She really thought I was someone she knew named Jon and was embarrassed about the mistake.

2. She was attempting to find a way to talk to me and thought she failed miserably.

3. The smell of the clam chowder on my breath from the store sample I had earlier was overwhelming and she wanted to get away as soon as possible.

Whatever the reason, I’m sure I could have pulled off something better than, “No.”

“Maybe. What’s your name?”

“Sorry. My name’s Andrew.”

“Nope. But I have a puppy named Jon.”

Hell, even, “Yes, I’m Jon,” would have been better.

As long as it wasn’t Lucas’ suggestion of, “I can be anyone you want me to be!”

Unfortunately, you can’t return a line when you think it up ten minutes later.

So now I’m without a cheese girl.

And I forgot to buy the cheese.

Nothing ever works out for me.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

A Good Samaritan, but not the best.

I can’t believe how paranoid I am.

I had just gotten lunch from the Corner Bakery in my building and was headed back up to the office when I heard, “Young man! Young man!” from behind me. I figured that the homeless had decided to start begging in the lobby, so I tried to ignore it and keep walking. But I began to feel guilty and turned to see an old woman staring at me, her hands stretched towards me, grasping a bottle of orange juice.

“Can you open this for me?” She asked. “I’m not strong enough to open it.”

“Uh, sure,” I replied as I reached over and twisted the cap off the bottle still clutched in her hands.

She smiled with gratitude. “Thank you so much! What’s your name?”

“Andrew.”

She smiled wider. “God bless you, Andrew.”

As I rode up the escalator back to my office, I should have been feeling pride and a sense of reward for helping a little, old lady in her time of need.

Unfortunately, the only thing I was feeling was my pockets to make sure she hadn’t stolen my wallet.

Monday, December 1, 2008

An ass over bass.

Why must I always be the antagonist?

I was eating out at some burger place with some co-workers and the new girl was going over the menu when she noticed they offered a fish sandwich. She started going off on how a burger place shouldn’t even give the option of a fish sandwich. As if it was against the very soul of a hamburger restaurant to serve fish and was only included to appease the prissy crowd that wasn’t man enough for real meat.

So I ordered the fish sandwich. I didn’t even want the fish sandwich. I just wanted to rub it in her face.

Eat that, bitch.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Plus two.

On my birthday last week, I was greeted by a coworker with, “Happy birthday! What is it? 29?”

“27,” I replied.

“Oh,” she said with embarrassment before turning back to her computer to escape the awkwardness.

Sure, it bothers me that someone would say they think I’m two years older than I am. But what really bothers me is that I know people only wish you a Happy 29th when they think you’re much older than 29. It’s a tongue-in-cheek way to tell someone in their 30’s and 40’s they still look young.

This time it ended up saying I look fucking old.

Luckily, the rest of the birthday didn’t go as bad, especially since most of the rest of the day involved eating. Had some loaded waffles with my friend Iram, a pumpkin cheesecake with my coworkers, and a huge-ass dinner at Claim Jumpers with my parents.

I’m sure the five pounds I’ve probably gained from it all will get me well on my way to being wished a happy 39 next year.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Better than the Tan Torpedo.

Did you know I’ve been published in an internationally distributed magazine read by thousands across the globe? Sure, it may have only been in their reader-mail section, but I’ll take what I can get.

And don’t worry, Mom. It didn’t start out with, “Dear Penthouse.”

It was in Wizard Magazine. If you’re not familiar with the publication, their content is geared mainly for the comic book crowd and geeks such as myself. I’m sure you’ve seen their Wolverine-emblazoned covers on the newsstands from time to time. They have a letter section called “Magic Words” at the beginning of the magazine where they answer their readers’ questions about the comic industry and other fanboy stuff.

“Does the Flash have to buy new shoes on a regular basis?”

“How does Daredevil know when he’s done wiping after going to the bathroom?”

Stuff like that.

If letters that fascinating could get in, I thought I’d give it a shot myself. I sent in a random comic rambling, and in November of 2006, i got inked. Read it for yourself.

Not exactly Pulitzer material, I know. I was just looking to be printed. And the second I thought up the Brown Bomber, I knew I was in.

So why bring this up after all this time, you ask? It’s been two years already. Why mention it now?

I make a habit of reading comic books every day on my train ride home from work. In addition to keeping me entertained, it keeps me from falling asleep. I started doing it shortly after the time I passed out and missed my stop by four stations and had to walk a couple of miles in the pouring rain without an umbrella to get to my car. Anyways, last week, the comic Justice League of America #26 made it into my evening reading.

The issue had come out a week earlier and was written by some guy named Dwane McDuffie. In the book, reality had gotten all funked up and the Justice League team was completely changed. Some members had their histories drastically altered in addition to some completely new members being added to the team. Their roster went like this. (Be sure to scroll down to the bottom of the pic.)

I nearly fell out of my seat. There on the bottom of the page was my guy. I couldn’t believe someone finally made a Brown Bomber. Personally, I pictured him being some skinny guy in brown tights throwing around brown explosives instead of a racist, white guy who turns into a super-powered black man, but I was still astounded the comic world finally had a “brown” superhero.

As soon as I got home, I rummaged through my closet for that old copy of Wizard. Unfortunately, I hadn’t kept track of which issue it was in, so it took me nearly an hour of pouring through my old magazines to find it. But I found it. Issue 181, page 13. After reading my letter and laughing a bit to myself, I thought I’d give the magazine a quick scan to see what was going on in the comic world two years ago. I flipped eight pages ahead and noticed a short article about the comic Firestorm. It featured a short interview by the books writer, Dwayne McDuffie.

The same Dwayne McDuffie who wrote Justice League of America #26.

Was it coincidence? Or had Dwayne picked up the issue to see how his interview turned out, noticed my letter while skimming through the rest of the magazine, and was inspired to create his own Brown Bomber?

Who knows! I’m planning on writing Wizard again to see if they can find out. I’d like to think that somehow I contributed to a couple of pages of comic history. But even if it does turn out to be just a coincidence, I think I’ll at least be assured another printing in the Wizard mail section.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Buddy list/buddy lust.

Out of nowhere, her name popped up on my AIM buddy list. I hadn’t seen her online for years. I hadn’t seen her in person for even longer.

I met her in college and had a crush on her instantly. A month or so later, I found out she had a crush on me back. We had a few dates, but it ended up going nowhere because I still wasn’t over a girl who had messed me up the year before. Eventually, we started talking less and less, and at the end of the semester, she transferred to another university.

Sometimes I wonder if only I had met her a year earlier, or a year later. I’m sure things would have worked out a lot better. Timing has never been my forte.

I sat there in front of my computer wondering if I should try to chat with her. We hadn’t left on the best of terms, but that was years ago. And she was sweet and fun and oh so very good-looking. I pictured her adorable smile and her glasses framing her delicate brown eyes and thought to myself, “What the hell. I’ll give it a shot.”

I scrolled over to my buddy list and placed my cursor over her name, ready to double-click for a conversation when her status automatically popped up in a hover box. It simply read, “We’re engaged!!!”

Apparently, my timing hasn’t improved.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Feed a cold.

Colds suck. Mine started yesterday morning with a burning in the back of my throat, slightly similar to the feeling you get after burping too hard and puking a little. Now my sinuses are clogged, my eyes are all puffy, and all I want to do is go to bed and die.

In an effort to stave off the infection, in the past 30 hours or so, I’ve ingested the following:

4 Airborne tablets
3 cups of hot tea
8 Halls cough drops
72 ounces of water
1 Jamba Juice Coldbuster Smoothie
1 bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos
2 bowls of super hot chili (Why I have it in my head that spicy things fight off colds, I have no idea.)

Unfortunately, none have had any lasting effect. Except for the chili. But it wasn’t exactly the effect I was going for.

Apologies to anyone within a 5 foot radius of me.