Some of you may remember a series on did on the blog called "The Five People You Meet When You Go into the Men's Locker Room." If you haven't read them, you can find them over on the right in the archives. Long story short, swimming is (one) of my exercises of choice, and the things i encounter in and around the pool area are constant blog fodder. So, instead of resisting the urge, I'm going to continue to fill you in on recent happenings in the gym.
So, one thing that has really started to piss me off is this guy. He still leaves his gross ass bathing suit hanging there on the outside of the locker. And i'm over this craziness. I spent a lot of time trying to find a solution that A) didn't directly implicate me B) wasn't overly harsh (i mean, he's not poisoning children after all) C) gets my point across. Here's what I have come up with:
One of my least favorite things to do is take knots out of shoes, pant strings, etc. I decided that i would bite the bullet and touch this gross thing, in order to be the change i want to see in the world. A few days ago, after my swim, i pulled a nice tight knot into one of his draw strings. The next day, I pulled one into the other string. Today (I hadn't swum since last Wednesday), I pulled a third knot in. I am a Social Psychologist after all, and the opportunity for me to have a little fun with this seemed necessary. Here are the rules as i see them (and they are admittedly loose and subject to immediate change.)
1. Only one knot per visit. So if he keeps pullin' em out, i'll just keep puttin em in. But gradually.
2. I don't pull knots on top of other knots (to make a sorta mega-knot)--all knots get their own space on the wire.
And that's about it. I'm actually pretty interested in how long this continues on for. I mean, from his perspective, do you really start thinking someone is tying knots in your bathing suit? Or i guess, more accurately, the question is, WHEN does one start thinking that someone is tying knots in their bathing suit. We will all get to find out together! Current knot count: 3.
stay tuned for more locker room fun coming soon. . .
Back to the Locker Room: Back to My Roots
Monday, June 28, 2010 | 8 Comment(s)
Thursday, June 24, 2010 | 0 Comment(s)
He everyone. More is to come. Im serious. I have tons of entries to write, but im kinda in a school crunch at the moment, so please fly in a holding pattern til July, and I will reward you will written riches the likes of which you have never seen (or that you have seen in previous entries).
Sorry for the delay, at least i'm not making you guys wait on the plane.
mz
Sorry for the delay, at least i'm not making you guys wait on the plane.
mz
Friday, June 18, 2010 | 1 Comment(s)
I often think up poems in bed while i lie there, waiting to fall asleep. Sometimes whole poems come out, sometimes fragments. Last night this perfect last sentence came to me as i was resting. But i can't, for the life of me, try to write a beginning of a poem to match it. So it will stand alone.
As e e cummings taught us, a little formatting goes a long way.
As e e cummings taught us, a little formatting goes a long way.
i couldn't love you more,
until tomorrow,
when i surely will.
until tomorrow,
when i surely will.
safe travels.
Thursday, June 17, 2010 | 3 Comment(s)
I'm driving to the neighboring town this morning when the radio announcer calls out, "Do you have BEIBER FEVER!!!"
I believe it was for tickets to a concert of his. I'm not going to play dumb and tell you I haven't heard of Justin Beiber. I watched the SNL (it was Tina Fey hosting for god's sake). The details however, are a bit fuzzy. Best i've surmised is that he is some self taught music prodigy who posted videos of himself on YouTube until he got noticed for being so gosh darn adorable (I think he looks like a caricature) and signed to a record deal. I won't front, from what i saw, the kid can certainly play the drums -- and his sketch with Tina as his teacher was friggin brilliant.
But this is not the point. The point is that maybe it's cause im kinda from Hicksville western MA (Pittsfield actually, and i swear it's a city), but when i hear "Beiber Fever" I can really only hear "Beaver Fever." You know, the disease that sometimes makes its way into the drinking supply and gives whole towns the shits (i know this because we had a number of local outbreaks nearby when i was growing up). There is what i believe to be a myth (stemming from what wikipedia tells me is that beavers serve as a host for the disease) that says the disease, Giardiasis, is caused by beaver urine. Not my field *shrug*
But I was taught, from a very young age, to fear the Beaver Fever. And fear it I do. And since both Beaver and Beiber Fevers seem to have similar symptoms (both relating to my excrement), I think i might need to follow my instincts and avoid this new infection.
Why do his eyes have to be so gosh darn dreamy!
I believe it was for tickets to a concert of his. I'm not going to play dumb and tell you I haven't heard of Justin Beiber. I watched the SNL (it was Tina Fey hosting for god's sake). The details however, are a bit fuzzy. Best i've surmised is that he is some self taught music prodigy who posted videos of himself on YouTube until he got noticed for being so gosh darn adorable (I think he looks like a caricature) and signed to a record deal. I won't front, from what i saw, the kid can certainly play the drums -- and his sketch with Tina as his teacher was friggin brilliant.
But this is not the point. The point is that maybe it's cause im kinda from Hicksville western MA (Pittsfield actually, and i swear it's a city), but when i hear "Beiber Fever" I can really only hear "Beaver Fever." You know, the disease that sometimes makes its way into the drinking supply and gives whole towns the shits (i know this because we had a number of local outbreaks nearby when i was growing up). There is what i believe to be a myth (stemming from what wikipedia tells me is that beavers serve as a host for the disease) that says the disease, Giardiasis, is caused by beaver urine. Not my field *shrug*
But I was taught, from a very young age, to fear the Beaver Fever. And fear it I do. And since both Beaver and Beiber Fevers seem to have similar symptoms (both relating to my excrement), I think i might need to follow my instincts and avoid this new infection.
Why do his eyes have to be so gosh darn dreamy!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010 | 1 Comment(s)
Student: "how many pages should the paper be?"
Teacher: "well, I don't like to put limits on length (that's what she said), but I'd say about 4 or 5 pages."
Student: "oh, that's easy, that's only like 400 tweets long."
Teacher: "well, I don't like to put limits on length (that's what she said), but I'd say about 4 or 5 pages."
Student: "oh, that's easy, that's only like 400 tweets long."
Sunday, June 13, 2010 | 1 Comment(s)
As i sit here watching the NBA finals re-cap on ESPN/ABC, I keep thinking the same think, "remember when Magic Johnson had HIV?"
And I know that sounds horrible, but i remember vividly being a little 13-yr-old mensch in Hebrew school and hearing that Magic was HIV+. Back then, in 1991, HIV was a death sentence. We were grief stricken as somehow we felt that if Magic could get it, anyone could. He was the HIV positive "everyman." Maybe this wasn't a "gay disease." A few years later there was a bit of a stir about whether or not Magic should play in an All-Star game. People on TV talked about the "chance of infection" and whatnot. But it was all very serious and scary.
Now he's laughing it up nightly as an announcer on T.V. (he's pretty solid in that profession, for the record). It doesn't seem as if there are any ill effects on his health as a result of the virus. And to me, this is what that tells us: It says that whether or not you have $money$ is much more predictive of whether or not you die from AIDS than your race or sexual orientation. And while that's great for Magic, and it's great that we have the health care to prevent HIV from being the death sentence it was 20 years ago, it highlights how we screw the poor both in this country and abroad.
People talk about the greatness of "humanity." But it seems decidedly inhumane to develop drugs to defeat deadly illness, and to then ration those discoveries to those who can pay in order to maximize financial profit over human lives.
I'm very happy that Magic is still with us, I just wish he still represented the everyman.
And I know that sounds horrible, but i remember vividly being a little 13-yr-old mensch in Hebrew school and hearing that Magic was HIV+. Back then, in 1991, HIV was a death sentence. We were grief stricken as somehow we felt that if Magic could get it, anyone could. He was the HIV positive "everyman." Maybe this wasn't a "gay disease." A few years later there was a bit of a stir about whether or not Magic should play in an All-Star game. People on TV talked about the "chance of infection" and whatnot. But it was all very serious and scary.
Now he's laughing it up nightly as an announcer on T.V. (he's pretty solid in that profession, for the record). It doesn't seem as if there are any ill effects on his health as a result of the virus. And to me, this is what that tells us: It says that whether or not you have $money$ is much more predictive of whether or not you die from AIDS than your race or sexual orientation. And while that's great for Magic, and it's great that we have the health care to prevent HIV from being the death sentence it was 20 years ago, it highlights how we screw the poor both in this country and abroad.
People talk about the greatness of "humanity." But it seems decidedly inhumane to develop drugs to defeat deadly illness, and to then ration those discoveries to those who can pay in order to maximize financial profit over human lives.
I'm very happy that Magic is still with us, I just wish he still represented the everyman.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010 | 1 Comment(s)
[All the masturbation haikus, including my award-winner!, can be found here.]
Turns out, I will eat frosting off of just about anything.
My gf's birthday was this past weekend and, per her semi-subtle request, I got her a mint-chocolate cake with fudge drizzle and peanut butter cups on top. It was . . . heavenly. The farm/grocery store down the street makes great cakes, and I think the trick is that their frosting is both sugary enough that it coats your entire mouth with a thin film of sucrose, but it has enough flavor and taste to not come off "fake" or like eating pure sugar. As my description shows, I have no idea how this happens. Perhaps there is some high quality sugar out there that i don't know about that makes all the difference. I doubt it though. Cause, especially being born on Halloween, I have eaten quite a bit of sugar. Some might even say, sugar is my favorite.
Anyway, we had a bunch of people over for the birthday party and BBQ'd and beered and had a wonderful ol time. When the event was over, there were portions of half eaten pieces of cake all over our house and porch. Over the next 2 days of cleaning/recovering, I would say I ate some frosting off of about 87% of the cake plates lying around. It's gross. It's disgusting. But it tastes so damn good. My taste buds don't care that the other side of the slice is half eaten. They care about that sweet yummy frosting goodness.
As i was on this mission to contract herpes from cake, I started wondering what I wouldn't eat cake off of in my house. I'd eat it off the Wii. I'd eat it off the carpet, couch, chair, desk, or bed. I've already eaten it off the oven. I think the windowsill is where i draw the line. Only because in our house the windowsill is where all of the dust in our house seems to collect. And dusty cake . . . i mean come on . . . that's so bush league.
But if we'd cleaned recently . . . i'd totally rock frosting off the sill.
(i think "off the sill" should be a new term--like-- 'at first i was a little shy talking to strangers, but then i just said "fuck it" and went off the sill. After that, they couldn't shut me up.')
my life was incomplete before i found this picture online
Turns out, I will eat frosting off of just about anything.
My gf's birthday was this past weekend and, per her semi-subtle request, I got her a mint-chocolate cake with fudge drizzle and peanut butter cups on top. It was . . . heavenly. The farm/grocery store down the street makes great cakes, and I think the trick is that their frosting is both sugary enough that it coats your entire mouth with a thin film of sucrose, but it has enough flavor and taste to not come off "fake" or like eating pure sugar. As my description shows, I have no idea how this happens. Perhaps there is some high quality sugar out there that i don't know about that makes all the difference. I doubt it though. Cause, especially being born on Halloween, I have eaten quite a bit of sugar. Some might even say, sugar is my favorite.
Anyway, we had a bunch of people over for the birthday party and BBQ'd and beered and had a wonderful ol time. When the event was over, there were portions of half eaten pieces of cake all over our house and porch. Over the next 2 days of cleaning/recovering, I would say I ate some frosting off of about 87% of the cake plates lying around. It's gross. It's disgusting. But it tastes so damn good. My taste buds don't care that the other side of the slice is half eaten. They care about that sweet yummy frosting goodness.
As i was on this mission to contract herpes from cake, I started wondering what I wouldn't eat cake off of in my house. I'd eat it off the Wii. I'd eat it off the carpet, couch, chair, desk, or bed. I've already eaten it off the oven. I think the windowsill is where i draw the line. Only because in our house the windowsill is where all of the dust in our house seems to collect. And dusty cake . . . i mean come on . . . that's so bush league.
But if we'd cleaned recently . . . i'd totally rock frosting off the sill.
(i think "off the sill" should be a new term--like-- 'at first i was a little shy talking to strangers, but then i just said "fuck it" and went off the sill. After that, they couldn't shut me up.')
my life was incomplete before i found this picture onlineSunday, June 6, 2010 | 9 Comment(s)
The truth is that ive been having so much fun lately I haven't had time to post. Now isn't that jsut the best thing ever.
I recently won my first writing contest since middle school when I won a D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) Award for an essay I wrote. I'm not sure how often boys won this award. I will say my mom also won it so . . . maybe i was "legacy-ed" in.
Anyways, i actually won a "Masturbation Haiku" contest over at Early To Bed, a sex shop in Chicago where a good friend of mine works (no, i did NOT get any favoritism). I believe it will be published tomorrow (June 7th), so say tuned. As noble followers of my blog, I obviously will be giving you guys the exclusive first look. Here it is, my award-winning blog on masturbation:
finally alone
*quickly pulls up his waistband*
not alone at all
I really have my finger on the pulse of the American consciousness (pun!). This upandcoming (pun!) young writer is bound to stretch our understanding of the human body beyond our current conceptualization.
That's right folks, lap it up (pun!).
Oy. Bedtime. Genius needs it's beauty sleep.
I recently won my first writing contest since middle school when I won a D.A.R. (Daughters of the American Revolution) Award for an essay I wrote. I'm not sure how often boys won this award. I will say my mom also won it so . . . maybe i was "legacy-ed" in.
Anyways, i actually won a "Masturbation Haiku" contest over at Early To Bed, a sex shop in Chicago where a good friend of mine works (no, i did NOT get any favoritism). I believe it will be published tomorrow (June 7th), so say tuned. As noble followers of my blog, I obviously will be giving you guys the exclusive first look. Here it is, my award-winning blog on masturbation:
finally alone
*quickly pulls up his waistband*
not alone at all
I really have my finger on the pulse of the American consciousness (pun!). This upandcoming (pun!) young writer is bound to stretch our understanding of the human body beyond our current conceptualization.
That's right folks, lap it up (pun!).
Oy. Bedtime. Genius needs it's beauty sleep.
Thursday, June 3, 2010 | 5 Comment(s)
(originally post 6/3/10)
Pull up a seat kiddies cause im's a bout to preach a bit--and help ya'lls relationships.
I give you: "the 30 minute rule."
I'm not gonna lie folks, and I'm not gonna front--I believe I actually saw something to this effect on a Sex and the City Episode. No, i will not see the movies. Ever.
When you get home from whatever you do during the day, may it be school or work or some combination of those things or no combination of those things, but when you come home, you are utterly and unchangeably unable to focus on any new problems. Home is where we retreat, it's our safe space.
Interestingly, part of what makes home our safe space is that our significant others (may) live there with us. This is almost always wonderful. The pesky thing about living with other humans, however, is that they have needs. And because of these "needs," when they see the person they care about most walk through the door, they want to share all the day's hopes and dreams and frustrations and anger and questions and stories with that loved one. Unfortunately, when you come home, you are utterly and unchangeably unable to focus on any new problems (or hopes or dreams or frustrations or angers or questions) other than your own. You need to retreat first. Power down. Relax.
This often creates conflict, as the partner that has been home vies to connect with their partner at the end of the day while the partner just coming home vies to get some space to decompress from their own day.
All it takes is 30 minutes.
Pull up a seat kiddies cause im's a bout to preach a bit--and help ya'lls relationships.
I give you: "the 30 minute rule."
I'm not gonna lie folks, and I'm not gonna front--I believe I actually saw something to this effect on a Sex and the City Episode. No, i will not see the movies. Ever.
When you get home from whatever you do during the day, may it be school or work or some combination of those things or no combination of those things, but when you come home, you are utterly and unchangeably unable to focus on any new problems. Home is where we retreat, it's our safe space.
Interestingly, part of what makes home our safe space is that our significant others (may) live there with us. This is almost always wonderful. The pesky thing about living with other humans, however, is that they have needs. And because of these "needs," when they see the person they care about most walk through the door, they want to share all the day's hopes and dreams and frustrations and anger and questions and stories with that loved one. Unfortunately, when you come home, you are utterly and unchangeably unable to focus on any new problems (or hopes or dreams or frustrations or angers or questions) other than your own. You need to retreat first. Power down. Relax.
This often creates conflict, as the partner that has been home vies to connect with their partner at the end of the day while the partner just coming home vies to get some space to decompress from their own day.
All it takes is 30 minutes.
