Is This Normal? (Part 1, of many)

Evil

We came to this country when I was three and a half. My dad spoke a bit of English, but in the house, we just spoke Chinese. When I started kindergarten, I knew about 20 words in English. (One of them was "automatic.") I learned the words from my sister, who was older than me and had been in American school for a year and a half.

On my first day of kindergarten, I didn't know how to play with any of the toys. Things like blocks, puzzles -- and especially playing house -- were foreign concepts. So I mostly kept to myself.

There was this one day when I got sick and I puked all over some other kid and he started to cry. The teacher sent me to the office, where they would call my mom to come pick me up. I couldn't communicate with the ladies in the office, so I reached into my shirt and pulled out an index card. My mom always made sure I wore that index card when I left for school. The card had a hole punched in a corner and a loop of red yarn through the hole and I wore it around my neck. The index card had my name, address, and home phone number, written by my dad.

I sat on what seemed like a very large, very old bench in the office and waited for my mom. I sat for what seemed like a very long time and when I realized that school was over and students were starting to go home, it crossed my mind that maybe my mom wasn't coming to get me. Various old ladies who worked in the office were saying stuff to me that I didn't understand.

They close the office 30 minutes after school lets out. In fact, they close the entire school building. Someone shooed me outside to wait on the front steps of the school. I looked around for my mom, with renewed hopes that maybe she just didn't figure out how to get inside and that she was waiting for me all along. But no.

It was a rainy afternoon, so not only was I sick, I was being rained on. And oh, I can't find my mom. Some neighborhood people walked past me but no one said anything. I guess the Don't Talk To Strangers rule also applies to pukey little kids.

I'm not sure what happened first, the fact that I gave up hope that my mom would appear from down the block, or that I just got too cold and shivery. I went up to a passer-by. He looked like a friendly old man. I pulled out the index card from inside my shirt and showed it to him.

If I remember correctly, the friendly old man brought me home. But I can honestly say I don't remember any of the rest -- why my mom didn't come to pick me up, what I said to her when I finally saw her -- I've lost all of those memories.

Is this normal?

Rolling in Dough!

In just the past two days, my net worth has gone up by $45 and I owe it all to craigslist. Yesterady, I sold 3 stupid Central Park framed photos for $20. Today, I sold an Apple Mouse that I don't use anymore for $25. Wooo!

I actually have one more item posted on craigslist. It's a barter: I'm trying to trade 3 under-bed storage boxes for a 6 pack of beer. Someone emailed me for details, but that punk never followed up on my response! Do any of you guys need 3 under-bed boxes? Cuz I sure as heck need some beer.

Buy an xTian, He goes from Zero to Jerk in 30 Seconds

The weeks leading up to Thanksgiving were challenging enough. My mother has 3 sisters who live in the area and my father has 2. I love them all equally, an easy task since they tolerate my surlyfuckery more or less equally. Upon hearing that I was not going to the Sunshine State, each called me out of pity and invited me to their respective homes for Thanksgiving, a welcome, warm gesture. One that the socially underdeveloped fuck that is me cannot handle. Instead I treated this showering of familial love as a monumental burden, which I shared with anyone who would listen. I explained the situation to a coworker of mine, and though she didn’t judge me verbally, her eyes met mine with a mix of pity and disgust. My mother, long since retired from the responsibility of having to deal with my fuckwadery on a regular basis, called me a few times to laugh and point at the sad corner I had painted myself into. “What are you going to do?” She would ask, half mocking, half testing, her voice challenging me to a complicated game of “who do you love more?” Rather than play her game, I reacted with my typical scorched earth approach:

“Fuck it! I’m going to sit at home and sulk. How does that sound?”

I was proud of my emotional victory and felt compelled to share. Reactions were of course mixed. When relaying this story later to my sales operations manager (who I now claim as a mother figure…because I’m sad…and gay) she arched an eye brow and said “I need to get back to work”. See, just like my mom! Little did I know that my true mother, queen of constant undermining, would have the last laugh but we’ll get back to that in a minute.

My Thanksgiving weekend started ominously enough. After running out early on Tuesday to catch the motorcycle diaries I actually found myself balancing a number of different things that I needed to have teed up for Monday. Regardless, I managed to have all my ducks in a row by 3pm and broke for the door, so I could get up to the Vinegar Factory and pick up some pecan pies to barter as peace offerings for a number of family members that I have alienated in recent days.

I got a call from cousin, who rocks, by the way. She’s all like “I’m in town. I’m returning your call. What’s up” sort of vibe. In mid conversation I recalled that I failed to return any of her brother’s 4 calls in the last month. The correct approach is to stick thru the phone call and call her brother, my cousin back. My reaction is to contrive a reason to get off the phone and act very busy so as to not call anyone back. Ever non-committal, I agreed to make it to Perth Amboy later in the day, knowing full well I had no intention of ever showing up.

On Thursday, I rolled over to Ridgefield Park and hung out with my aunt and her family. All good people, with good hearts, even Monkey Boy 1 is good for a laugh. My aunt was treating me with kid gloves. Something she does not normally do. By 6pm, my youngest aunt called me just to say hi, see how I was feeling and later admitted to “wondering if you was depressed”. Ever since I was 5, there’s been a depression watch for xTian amongst the Velez Family. I can’t just be introspective and occasionally quiet, I have to be depressed and it freaking pisses me off. My mom of course, in reaction to my wise cracks, decides to bust out the “xTian is depressed” saw just to f with me. Luckily I was able to reassure her that I was not at all terribly depressed and doing just fine. My hostess aunt, also found a way to mellow out and lobbed a few fat jokes my way…family is great! By 8pm I was properly drunk and stuffed with pork (turkey is for white people…that’s what I always say). By 10pm I was passed out on the couch, by 2am I was being asked why I don’t like Latina women and being tested on the degree of my self loathing by my aunt’s husband, a man I have genuine affection for. Of course, the defining moment of our relationship includes him pelting me with baseballs for an entire afternoon. That’s a story that probably demands its own post.

On Friday, I arrived in Perth Amboy finally to call on my other aunts and wish them a good holiday. My cousin Maria, pointed out that my father had called on Thanksgiving and implied that I would be arriving late to Thanksgiving dinner, but that my arrival was imminent.

“what did he say to give you that idea?”

“He said, ‘xTian is on his way. He’ll be there shortly.’”

Thanks dad, that’s great! My response to Maria was pretty simple.

“Well, great. I guess I’m a jerk. Let’s go shopping”

Scumbag Move Of The Week

Congratulations, Dan Marino! You made a total ass of yourself on the CBS Pre-Game Show today and anytime anyone comes off looking like a bigger ass than me, it's worthy of celebration. What were you thinking, trying to chop block your interview "guest" Peyton Manning, at every opportunity? Yes, everyone knows he's going to break your single-season touchdown record, but DUDE, show some class.

For those who missed it, here's a recap of Dan Marino's interview with Peyton Manning:

-- Marino starts off by thanking Manning for all the re-newed attention he's been getting lately. Scumbag move!

-- Cuts to a clip of Marino's record 48th TD pass in 1973 or whatnot. Isn't this supposed to be a Manning interview? Scumbag move!

-- Marino pontificates that throwing TDs are easier in today's game because DB's aren't allowed to bump receivers like in the old days. Scumbag move!

-- Is Manning going to get a word in edgewise? Or sock Marino in the teeth? Cmon! Do something!

-- Marino closes by implying that offenses are built differently these days, specifically, that offenses now throw the ball when inside the 5, whereas they almost never did in his day. Then Marino whips out a stat! He turns to Manning and goes, "I had 2 TDs from inside the 5 that entire years, and this year, you ALREADY have 4!!!" Scumbag move!

Thanks and Anti-Thanks

Last word from me regarding Thanks...

Thanks to some chick named Iris, who according to this site's access logs, visits us every day! WOW! (On a side note: why does she come here? Why do *I* come here?)

Anti-Thanks to Jon-El. You suck! The fact that you took down the Anti-Life blog sucks! All you care about is yourself.

Ok, now I'm off to work on my 2004 Year In Review. It's going to be an epic.

A little less information, please

I moved apartments not too long ago, so now I have some random stuff that I don't need anymore. I went and posted in the "for sale" section on craigslist. There's this woman who wants to buy 3 framed Central Park pics from me. Great! Now all we need to do is figure out the logistics. I am home today, but today is not good for her. But ah, she can pick them up from my office building tomorrow because she'll be in the area. Specifically, she said:

"I've got a gynecologist appointment right near your office."

Eww. I didn't need to know that much detail. But anyway, we need to work out a time to meet. So then she says:

"My appointment is at 3:45pm, but it's going to take a looooong time, so we better meet beforehand."

YIPES! What the heck is going on down there?!? I'm going to ask the building doorman to conduct this transaction for me.

Giving Thanks

Evil

The calendar says it's winter, but it's 40's and 50's outside so you can still walk down the street and hold somebody's hand without bulky gloves getting in the way. The calendar says tomorrow is Thanksgiving and for the first time in years, I think I'm looking forward to seeing my family for the holidays. I used to fret about the holidays for some reason... maybe because social situations make me nervous or maybe because I come from a family of misfits and freaks. One year, I blew off the family dinner and convinced my friend Judy to take me in -- she made roast goose, glazed root vegetables, corn bread, herb rice, and what seemed like a dozen other dishes. There were eight people at Judy's dinner and at the end of the night, I counted more empty wine bottles than guests. That was a good Thanksgiving.

But this year, things somehow feel different. But I guess, in reality, much will be the same.

When I see my grandmother, she'll take my hand, feel my forearm and say that I'm either too fat or too skinny. Her assessment is utterly random I'm sure. Either that, or the woman is nearly legally blind. Probably both.

When I see my grandfather, he'll act very startled to see me. I think it's because he's lost all peripheral vision so he doesn't see anything not directly in front of him. I'll say hi to grandpa and he'll ask me if I'm working on my PhD and I'll shake my head and he'll mumble, "Oh." It's weird... the word for "Oh" in Vietnamese is actually "Oh." Go figure.

My aunts and uncles will all ask me if I'm married and I'll say no. Then they'll ask me if I have a girlfriend and I'll also say no, at which point they'll say various things to imply that I'm a loser. Sometimes, they actually call me a loser outright because in Asian families, it's OK to do that sort of thing (apparently). My third uncle will insert himself and point out that his son, who's a year younger than me, is already married. In my mind, I am always like, "FUCK THAT! Your kid might be married, but he's been working on his undergrad degree for ongoing 9 years now and he's still living in your basement, wife and all. F-ing loser."

My second uncle will be overly happy to see me. He is always overly happy to see anyone at all. We, the younger generation, suspect it had something to do with his long service during the Vietnam war. Something must have snapped because my second uncle acts pretty insane sometimes, but the older generation doesn't tell us anything about what's really going on.

Even with all the insanity though, I know there will be good food. My grandfather was a chef in his younger days, so his entire side of the family cooks up a storm for the holiday dinner.

Anyway, I just wanted to wish all 8 of you (the loyal Hose readers) a Happy Thanksgiving.

The Hosers wish you the Happy Gobble Gobble

In case you did not notice, we went on hiatus for a while and will be thru the end of the month. Figured I'd drop in a wish you and yours a happy turkey day.

We'll be back in early December, with a new look (designed by that poofter Sleeve) and a new feature. "Countdown to Personal Happiness", where Evil and I will put together a plan to actually approximate happy in 2005.

PEACE Y'ALL

xTian

Evil's Next LA Trip

Look at Evil, flaunting his wealth. Apparently, he won the eBay bid on this. When are you heading out to LA to claim your prize/drunk ho?

Something is off with Kentaro

I think Kentaro blew a fuse this weekend or something, he's talking like a 15 year old high on MDMA lately...

Here's a conversation we had recently:
xTian: hey
xTian: so someone goes
xTian: "arigato" to you
Kentaro: hey
xTian: what do you say back?
Kentaro: 'domo'
xTian: what's that mean
Kentaro: it means 'screw you'
xTian: serious?
xTian: that doesnt seem like what i want to say
xTian: who is this person, is this bruno? where's ken
xTian: i want to speak to ken
Kentaro: actually, 'domo' might not be it. let me get back to you on that
xTian: the f*ck?
Kentaro: hey
xTian: ?
Kentaro: 'domo' is 'thanks'
xTian: whats arigato mean?
Kentaro: "doitashimashite" = "you're welcome"
Kentaro: arigato also means thanks
xTian: awesome
Kentaro: i think arigato is more formal
xTian: you are japanese right?
Kentaro: i think so

Evil thinks he's caught up in in the undertow of our downward spiral...any thoughts?

Famous and Important People Read the Hose!!

Check out this dialogue from last week's episode of The O.C. (2x02- The Way We Were)

SETH : One of an outcast maybe, but at one point I was a vital part of the Harbour Club Scene...

RYAN: There's a Harbour Club scene?

SETH: Yeah...yeah...sailing club...golf club and uh...wait for it...wait for it comic book club. Check this out.
(Seth hands Ryan a flyer for the Comic Book Club, with a drawing of Seth on the front)

RYAN:who's this guy?

SETH:thats me with powers...the power to be handsome.

RYAN: I think this might explain the whole outcast thing...

SETH: No ryan it doesn't! Do you have any idea how much SpiderMan 2 made at the box office man? We're not outcasts anymore! OK! We're edgy...we're like trailblazers!

RYAN: "we"?

SETH yeah dude...why don't you get this involved, you me and possibly others...

Does this dialogue remind you of anything?

While we're on the subject, the writers of The O.C. (I mean you, Josh Schwartz!) are clearly comic book freaks, check out this character's later attempt to marginalize Superman...


SETH: Who's your favorite super hero?

ZACH: Depends who's writing him but I have to say Superman

SETH: (PHEW) (shaking his head turning to Ryan) this guy...(to Zack) He's too perfect, guy!

ZACH: No, he seems perfect but he's not...In fact, if you think about it, he's kind of messed up. I mean he's lost his parents, he's lost his whole planet...and this is a guy who could take over the world if he wanted but he doesn't. He just keeps helping people. Why would he do that, you know? Unless...he's just trying to make a connection...

SETH: Who's your favorite writer?

ZACH: Bendis

SETH: Well, hot damn! Welcome to the club!


Anyone got access to old postings from The Anti-Life. I'm pretty sure, Jon-El tried to build a similar case for himself...

Vote or Die!

My mental state has devolved to such a point that I can't even make the most mundane decisions. So I turn to you, reader(s) of The Hose. Please weigh in:

Should I purchase a Roomba?

Meeting Me Online

Evil

I wish there were some kind of online dating website where, for $24.95 a month, I can go on there and meet myself. I would hop on there, log in (username = "massivecock1976"), and read a deep and insightful profile -- of me. The profile would tell me things that I've always wanted to know about myself. For example: What kind of person am I? What kind of person am I to be around? What do I like to do in my spare time? In lieu of knowing any of this, I've spent the last 28 years making crap up.

On multiple occassions, I've had (female) friends say to me, "It's unfair that I am honest with you about what goes on in my life, but it doesn't work the other way around."

To this, I am always tempted to say, "Listen, wench, I'll be honest with you right after I learn to be honest with myself."

But instead, what I usually do is awkwardly and ungracefully change the subject. Something like this: "Huh? What? Please understand that there's a giant hole in my heart, the place where most people store their love. (*Nervous laughter*)"

This is usually followed by the rolling of eyes, but nevertheless, the subject has been changed.

It would be great if this online dating website had an email feature, so I can email myself with pointed questions. Stuff like: "Tell me about your parents and your family in general" and "Why would you be a good person to date, other than being a good lay?"

Anyone who know more about this "Internet" thing... please let me know if such a website exists.

Happy Birthday, GWOAMTSOHC!

Dear Girl Who Once Asked Me To Sit On Her Coat,

Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I didn't make it to your party last night, but then again, you probably wouldn't have remembered me. You asked me to sit on your coat about two years ago. I refused. You insisted. It was awkward. In lieu of having actual friends, I am now mentally pretending that people with whom I've had even the most insignificant conversation are now friends of some sort. Woooo!

Anyway, I hope you ended your birthday in your birthday suit.

Bye,
Evil

Evil

I am feeling like a champ! WOOOOO!

Intervention Needed

I am sort of worried about my erstwhile chum Evil, and clearly I should do something about it. But this inclination is countermanded by my own laziness. Yes, in this case my better angels are beaten by my favorite mortal sin, sloth. That sloth guy is always mucking up all my plans. Here's the situation as I described it...

I had decided earlier today that this evening would be dedicated to finishing the book I'm reading A Gentleman of Leisure by the comedic writer, PG Wodehouse. Within two minutes I was so bored I ran out in the rain to fetch a burrito.

On the way back from Taco Bandito I decided to ring up Evil, again bored by the mundaneness of walking 1.2 blocks. When he answered, I note that Evil was somewhere between stage 1 and 2 sleep. I implored him to do better, mentioning that it was not even yet 8pm. I challenged him on this

"bro, what are you up to?"

(curtly)"nothin'"

"are you alright"

"yeah"

"were you sleeping?"

"yeah"

"why?"

"i dunno"

"are you depressed?"

"yes"

After that the conversation tailed off, I chose not to press him any further. The odd part is, that if the shoe were on the other foot and he had called earlier in the day, he would have found me in a similar similar emotional state.

Evil

TAUNTING VICTIM

I just called the Chinese restaurant and ordered a General Tso's Chicken. Yes, that was very generic of me, but that's not the point of this post. The girl on the phone asked for my address and I gave it to her. You see, my address is the same as the Chinese restaurant's address. They are immediately downstairs from me. The girl on the phone was like, "Oh, same building" but the tone of her voice made it clear she really meant to say, "Oh, you lazy f-ck".

Fear and Self Loathing

You ever debate being honest with someone? I do. It's a decision I have to make every 45 seconds or so (or at least lately). It's funny because people always imagine me being brutally honest. Really what I'm doing though, is speaking in overly long winded sentences and then hiding my lies behind a wall of curt and assertive statements which thanks to to the juxtaposition come off as very "honest sounding". But I digress...the point is after all, the internal debate.

The debate is pretty simple. What's the reaction going to be to this genuine moment of honesty, this one time you decide to stand up and wave your hands in the air and are like "Here I am! This is who I am! Please care!" Romantics (and suckers) like to call it "bearing your soul". But really its just about revealing what's actually going on up there in the back corner of your head, the part with all the landmines, that place that dashboard confessional came to fear the most, in that one song, that one time. The truth of the matter is that the first time you reveal some genuine truth about yourself...that first reaction - its the first real acceptance/rejection of you as a person. Everything outside of that is false and can't be counted.

What if she giggles at you? In a cute way, because you're being cute? Is that the greatest day ever? Could be...who's to say? Never really happened to me....

What if she laughs out loud at you, revealing her molars and maybe finish off with a coughing fit? That would not feel good at all. It would feel down right shitty in fact. Not only are you being rejected, you're being rejected as completley ridiculous. Sad Clown Time...Sad Clown Time indeed

What if she starts crying? Granted its not probable, I've never made someone cry with honesty, but have with out in out lies. It's not probable but its also in the realm of the possible...

Who knows why I'm even thinking about this....

Evil

DO I EVEN EXIST?

Part 1. We're having a training event in the office this week, which means that various other people fly in from other offices for the training. Whenever we have these trainings, there is always an impromptu dinner-and-drinks thing that happens afterwards. Yesterday was no exception. By 4pm, people were buzzing around telling other people where and when to meet. Everyone was like, "Alright!" because dinner-and-drinks on the company tab is always a great thing. I guess it's great for everyone except me because no one invited me, so I just went home.

Part 2. I understand that XTIAN had lunch with Kentaro a couple of days ago. Was it a romantic lunch? If not, why wasn't I invited?

Part 3. I understand that XTIAN had dinner with Sleeve last night. Was it a romantic dinner? If not, why wasn't I invited?

Conclusion. Nobody likes me.

Evil

SCENE FROM THE SUBWAY
(this morning, R train, heading downtown)

The guy sitting across from me is reading the morning paper. He has one brown eye and one glass eye. The glass eye is horrendous and pale and bulging too much out of his head. The poor guy, he didn't get properly fitted for his glass eye.

His one good eye moves a lot when he reads the paper. It zigs and zags, back and forth. Real fast. I guess your good eye has to work harder when you only have one. Maybe it's sort of like losing a kidney... your other one grows by up to 40% to handle the extra load.

He spots me staring at him, so now he's trying to keep one eye on his paper and one eye on... Oh wait. He only has one eye total so he is visibly troubled at this point. His eye jumps betweent he paper and me and for the love of God I just can't stop myself from staring. Now he is practically staring at me and I am practically staring at him, but my eyes are fixed on his glass one, not his good one. We are both visibly uncomfortable. Now he slumps down in his subway seat. He lowers his eyelids, almost closing them. He puts the newspaper over his face and just sits there, slumped and motionless.

Evil

WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ME

Apparently, I've been walking around all day with a sizeable, noticable coffee stain on the front of my shirt. Noticable, that is, to everyone but me. :-(

Evil

Props to this blog for being funny and making fun of those asswipes on the NYT wedding announcements pages.

Don’t touch him there!!!

Australia’s flatworm pseudoceros bifurcus is a hermaphrodite. In order to copulate, they stab each other with their penises- a practice dubbed “penis fencing” by very bored scientists. These are the critters that porn was made for! But “stabbing” does not mean “fencing”. Besides, only one out of every six of their strikes leads to successful insemination, and when it’s over, they’re both left on the bathhouse floor, severely wounded. Emotionally as well as physically. I only bring it up because the symptoms sounds awfully familiar? At least to me...

Evil

TOUGHENING UP, FOR ONCE

I spent this past Sunday lounging on my couch, I like do on most Sundays. I lounge in such a way as to suggest that there's no muscle mass in my body whatsoever. When I lounge, I am shapeless. I am structureless. There is nothing to sustain the weight of my head. Such is the state of my physical being.

On this particular Sunday, I watched the NYC Marathon on TV. Some British chick with a crazy bobbing head won on the women's side. On the men's side, some American dude was in contention and I was rooting for him not because he was American per se, but because he had these cool ass knee-high socks. I gotta get me some of those!

Watching the marathon got me thinking... it's time to toughen up! Yes, my friends. You are indeed thinking what I'm thinking:

XTIAN and Jon-El, you two are signing up for the 2005 NYC Marathon. You have exactly 1 year (umm, minus a couple of days). Start training. Just to set the example of toughness for you two, I will do it too. In fact, I started training as of Sunday night! Ran 0.25 miles on the treadmill and lemme tell you, I WAS SPENT! But last night, I did a full 1.0 mile. That's a 4x improvement!!! Let me take a moment to flex. WOOO!

Evil

MY BLOG IS IN THERAPY

Do you ever read other people's blog posts and make very personal judgements about them? Even if you don't know (or hardly know) that person in real life? I do that ALL THE TIME!

For example, everyone should check out this ass-funny post by the aforementioned Jon-El (see Dork Wannabe, below). On the surface, that post is 100% humor, but my friends, there is a much deeper meaning!

You see, Jon-El is what you'd call an Academia Lifer. You know, the kind of person who rummages around the university, "researching" one thing or another, all in pursuit of weird-ass letters to attach at the end of one's name. But Jon-El recently left the warm embrace of academia to make the big bucks in industry. But man, after I read that post, after doubling over in laughter, I thought some more and it really made me sad. It's like a guy who's thrown in jail for murder and he serves his time for several decades and then one day, his time is up -- he's paid his debt to society to so let him out. But the only life he really knew was the one behind bars. So what does he do? He commits a crime, just to be thrown back in jail.

Poor Jon-El.

Evil

Speaking of weddings, I need some advice. This is serious...

Two days ago (Nov 5th), I get a wedding invitation in the mail. It's from a High School friend of mine. We still see each other, on average once a year. Usually at someone's wedding or New Year's Eve party. He's getting married and it's taking place on Nov 20th.

Are you asking the same question that I asked myself? "So was I a third-tier invite, or a fourth-tier invite?"

There's one caveat though: The invitation was send to my old-old address, so it actually had to get re-routed by the post office twice. There wasn't a date stamp on the envelope, but still... how long can two re-routings actually take.

So here is my question: WHAT SHOULD I DO?

Ever write a wedding card for anyone?

In the past, when I have stuck to "on registry". It's pretty easy. Most of these stupid websites, only let you put in a message worth about 250 characters or something stupid. Who can communicate any real emotion in 250 characters? Certainly not I, I'm a fucking windbag. I need at least 10x that to say hello (or explain photosythisis)

For Balls and Sandy's wedding, I went "off registry" for a couple of reasons, most of which are not worth sharing with the 8 of you. So, because I went off registry, I could not pull my pattened, "order-something-20-minutes-before-I-go-to-the-wedding-and-blame-Willaims-Sonoma-dot-com" move. So I let the thing sit for 6 friggin weeks, at least part of it was their fault of course, I mean who goes on a honeymoon and doesn't pick up their cell phone? Who drinks for two weeks straight while the Red Sox were making their improbable run. However, about 3 weeks ago, I ran out of fucking excuses so now the blame is firmly mine...WAH!

Anyway, writing the card is hard, I mean dude, the 250 character limit is such a life saver, sure you can't communicate any real emotion, but you also spare yourself the internal debate of how/where to place a penis joke or whether or not to mock Manolo's faca-bruta! 250 characters
"all the best...Please still like me" is about the start/end of it.

Now I got all these decision points. It's crazy. I'm a witty guy, its expected of me. In public, I can communicate elocution and love for expletives in a single sentence. Intonation is also key. I rely on intonation heavily, does intonation come across in writing? Of course, not! I'm walking around writing and reading out loud. Now I'm calling people and subjecting them to whatever the fuck is going on in my head

"would that offend you?...Now pretend you're Balls or Sandy...Would it offend you now? Strike it? Are you off your fucking rocker...I have to be funny its expected of me. I can't let these people down...What the fuck do you know about it? That's why no one likes you anyway!"

It's just not fair to anyone, most of all me! It's really too fucking stressful, Maybe Jon-El was right all along. I started this at 4:30 its now 6:45. SOMEBODY HELP!

I won't even get into the fact that I'm too hung over to hold a pen steady...

Attack of the Dork-wannabes

Any one give this a read? I did and I have some thoughts.

First, some level setting:
I'm a big time, dork. A well cultured, well spoken and occasionally charming dork, but a dork nonetheless. I was fucking with computers when I was four, I have been reading comic books since I was 6 and I can almost word for word repeat dialogue from Star Trek the Next Generation. I was/am a mess. END OF LEVEL SETTING

Why is there such a thing as a dork-wannabe. Well, that's easy. Remember 1999? Prince thought it was going to be a party and to a degree it was, but the not kind he imagined. Instead of crushed purple velvet and hedonistic behavior we had square rimmed glasses, ironic comments and technophilia. That's right dork wannabes is what sprung up in the wake of the dot.com society.

Suddenly geek culture overran everything, to the point that when the party ended its influence remained eternally etched of the zeitgeist of modern society. Star Wars (Eps IV and V at least) were cool. The X-Men and Spider-Man were cool. Seth Cohen,the second lead on The OC, is the epitome of this phenomenon. When we meet him he is the extreme dork with no friends, spending all his time reading comics and playing 25 year old records in his house. By the end of the first season, he's dumping the hottest chick in school?? Weird. Here's a more personal example: When I got to Berkeley, everyone was given a tee-shirt to represent our membership in the class of '04. Each cluster/cohort was given a different color, but they all had some variation of this logo:



Was I the only one to notice, that I and my fellow blue cohortians, look like we fell out of a Fantastic Four Fan Club meeting? I think not...

The point is, why wouldn't someone want to be a dork? We're the coolest shit out! WOOOOO! I'm not attacking Jon-El's cred (Jon-El HEH!...go read your Superman comics to make sense of that reference). I'm just trying to make him earn it a little bit. Why does Jon only get to be a dork when its cool? Shouldn't he have to put up with the indignity of being a dork in the late 80s in order to claim some of the reward? I'm just saying you have to put in the time, to get the cred. Not that I wish such extreme marginalization on anyone, I mean look at what it did to poor Evil. The poor guy is so scarred he lashes out at everything in site.

So I'm sorry Jon-El. I'm sorry that I can't accept you into my little club with open arms. Its just not going to happen, like a short person suddenly blessed with a huge cock or the ugly girl in middle school that is the first to sprout huge mammories, I'm going to make you work for my acceptance as long as humanly possible, or at least till the "dorks are cool movement" is over. In which, case I'll let the whole thing go and/or possibly apologize.

Evil

It has been brought to me attention that some of our readers do not like me. All I have to say is, SCREW YOU!!!

Evil

Graduate schooling notwithstanding, I watched as XTIAN self-defeated and self-destructed. Although I didn't stick around for the final result. So if you wanna know, you have to ask him.

Evil

SCENE FROM A STARBUCKS
(92nd & 3rd)

Three girls at the table next to me, all mid-to-late 20's and decently normal looking. The blonde scratches the surface of "attractive" on a good day. She does most of the talking. She talks fast. Hardlyanyspacesinbetweenherwords,sortoflikethis. The two brunettes talk fast too. The sounds they make are reminiscent of clucking hens. I expect them to peck at thier lemon poppyseed muffin in between sentences. I expect the pecking to be quick and ferocious, if only to keep pace with the whole scene.

The blonde is talking about work, still talking fast. The brunettes listen intently and here and there they scatter an "Oh my God!" and sometimes a "Wow! THAT is aMAZing!" Once, they chimed "Oh my God!" in almost perfect unison.

I sort of lose track of the conversation for a bit, perhaps out of boredom or perhaps I was distracted by thoughts of putting a bullet in my head so as to not have to listen the sounds of three girls clucking. The blonde is now talking about trying to get in to grad school:

"Imean,Ijustdontknowwhathappened. Imean,me? Gettingbelowthemeanonverbal? Imean,me?"

One of the brunettes is like, "Oh my God!"

"Imean,Ijustdontknowwhathappened!" repeats the blonde.

It's weird how some people don't realize how stupid they really are. She doesn't know what happened? This girl clearly has the intellect of toothpaste. At that moment, I found myself wondering why I wasn't born as good looking as I am smart. (I would be ruling the world by now!) And then I wondered what would happen if the blonde girl suddenly became as smart as me, if only for one day. I think her had would explode. Probably by noon. Being me is not as easy and carefree as it seems, but I guess I manage...

Evil

TEAM RACHEL TAKES LONDON

Finally, I got a chance to witness Mr. Shoulders operating in his own element. Man, first of all, let me just say that I've noticed some pretty fine looking Indian coochie floating around this city. Mr. Shoulders, with his big shoulders (is that redundant?), big money, and prestigious "VP" title must be pretty busy with all that ass he's getting.

So anyway, on Wednesday night it was Mr. Shoulders, The International Man of Mystery (TIMOM), Kentaro, and me at dinner. We went for Indian food, or was that Bangladeshi, or was it Indian but owned by Bangladeshi? They are all brown people to me, but TIMOM was having none of it. He subtly exerted moral superiority by pointing out that essentially all Indian restaurants are owned by Bangladeshi, because it's the Bangladeshi who are the entrepreneurs. I thought fists were about to fly right there, but luckily, I was amply distracted by the beer in my hand and a hot piece of English ass sitting at the table next to me. (BTW- That girl nearly got bowled over my an Indian waiter, and as he shoved her, he grumbled, "Get out of my way!")

I learned a few things about Mr. Shoulders that night:

1. His rent is GBP1100/month, which in USD is something obscene, like $1.34 million, or perhaps something like $2000/month or whatnot. But still. Mr. Shoulders is rolling in money.

2. Mr. Shoulders would never (or in his own words, "NEVER!!!!!!") buy a used car. Likewise, Mr. Shoulders would "NEVER!!!!!!" have a used woman. Damn, that guy set the bar high.

3. Mr. Shoulders is returning to the States in March 2005. Get ready people. There is going to be a Welcome Back / Birthday Party in the works. This time, I'll take care of ordering the stripper, so we can actually have one that shows up on time and doesn't mention the 2 kids that she has so as to make everyone in the audience feel guilty.

I also learned one very important thing about Kentaro aka The Enigma. That guy just managed to engineer the ousting of his direct manager. As such, there's now a huge power vacuum within Ken's group and there Ken is... ready to fill the void. That guy is a genius.

OC Recap

The OC was back last night, with billboards and ads that stated "The first ten minutes will change everything!"

Well, not quite. Actually all the first ten minutes did was recap the season 1 finale and give us a chance to check out Rachel Bilson, greased up and in a bikini. Mischa Barton was also in a bikini, but her character is really annoying and as someone pointed out to me yesterday she has "cankles". Cankles can be tolerated in certain instances but on such a skinny girl, its down right freakish. There were also a bunch of greased up half naked guys fixing up Sandy and Kiki's house but who can notice that when you got Peter Galagher's eye brows stealing the show!

In other news, Seth spent all summer hanging out with Luke and his gay dad in Portland. He hates his parents for making Ryan go away but misses Summer because he loves her. A sentiment he communicated really well at the end of last season by "sailing away". Ryan embraces his inner chino-ness. Right down to a silly camera shot of him giving pounds to a bunch of junior vatos riding by on a bicycles. In the end, Ryan steps up and brings Seth back to the Cohens. And since Teresa lied to Ryan about a miscarriage he decides its more than alright to leave his wifey- miscarried (not), alone, and scared-and return to his home - which shall heretofore be referred to as The PoolHouse of Solitude.

Also, (a drunk) Marissa has the most annoying hissyfit ever (MAHE) and Josh Schwartz subjects us to more characterization by prop when Summer finally dumps Seth by returning a 12in London Calling and assorted issues of JSA.

Even a guest appearance by Mr. Oats could not restore any of this angst-ridden show's season 1 sunniness.

Gayness for the Day
About a year ago, I downloaded the Postal Service Album - Get Up. I never listened to it, but kept hearing the atari like sounds from their hit - Such Great Heights in movies and commercials. The other day while running I noticed I had put the album on my iPod and listened as I ran. One song stuck out - Brand New Colony - wherein a guy meets a girl and tries to get her to go away with him and build...you know...a brand new colony...which i suppose is a metaphor for the sappy sentiment of building a life together...

What a great song, so great a song I had to sing it on the subway this morning..I was caught singing the following verses

I want to take you far from the cynics in this town
and kiss you on the mouth.
We'll cut our bodies free from the tethers of
this scene, start a brand new colony.

Damn my iPod!

Evil

I am hurting. I mean physically, not emotionally (for once).

Evil

WILLIAM REHNQUIST DEATH POOL

Readers of The Hose: The game is on!!! Here's how it works:

1. You predict the date and time at which William Rehnquist (Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court) will kick the bucket.

2. Email your official entry to thehose@gmail.com.

3. Closest prediction WITHOUT GOING OVER wins all.

Entry fee: $20 USD per entry. Multiple entries per person welcome. (Sleeve knows about multiple entries per person!)

Evil



"My name is Hillary Clinton and I'm... REPORTING FOR DUTY!"

Bizarre stuff going On

This whole presidential thing hit me harder than I anticipated. There were actually two separate times this morning when i almost cried. I need to toughen up. How can my manishness hold up if I cry everytime a decomposing presidential candidate looses.

I'd like to think that democrats could compete if they ran someone from the North East. I'd like to just blame John Kerry for being a crappy campaigner, having the charisma of a newt, and for being someone who just can't seem to make up his mind about anything.

I'd like to do this because it would be very easy. But I think its a gross over simplification. I think the end result is that I, as a north eastern elitist liberal hippie have nothing in common with a disproportionate part of this country. Too bad.

For whatever reason, the only thing that made me feel better this morning was buy a pair of pink monkey cuff links. What does that say about me?

I am going to step off towards century 21. There might be a pair of Bruno Magli's there that can keep me from crying the rest of the night.

OH,btw Watch LOST tonight and The O.C. returns tomorrow!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The Hose & the NY Times

I have gotten a lot of positive feedback regarding my post via emails and phone calls. Of course, I am way beyond that...I don't do it for the adulation of my fans. I don't let it feed my ego and take to stratospheric levels. I don't go on and say how I am probably solely responsible for taking the number of readers past the "never thought possible" number of 10.

That's just not me...At the same time, I feel a little bit let down by the Hose management. It seems that our PR department its not doing enough to get the Hose on more mainstream media. All I know its I go online to the NY Times and there are bunch of inferior blogs in their Op-Ed Page.

We need a new publicist...that's all I am saying!

Evil

Hey, Happy Election, people! Play fair. Outwit, outsmart, outlast. Oh wait, that's Survivor. The patriot that I am, I'm off to England! Gonna maybe smoke a couple of fatties on Oxford campus while you crazy Yanks sort out your election mess.

Evil

HALLOWEEN COSTUMES THAT MIGHT GET YOU AN ASS KICKING

One.I missed the company Halloween festivities this year because I was in-flight from California back to New York. But when I got in to work today, I did see the pics that people were emailing around. My favorite Halloween costume this year? Three people from the office dressed up as iPod ads, you know, like this ad:



Think about this for a sec. Their costume went like this:

1. Wear all-black clothing
2. Wear an iPod on your belt and white earbuds in ear
3. Wear blackface

DUDE! They were in blackface. Was that OK? On Halloween or otherwise? Somehow, I think if I did that, my would have been swallowing my own teeth before the day was thru. DOUBLE STANDARD!!!

Two. Had I not had to miss Halloween, I think I would have gone as a Krumper. You know, a break dancing clown. In preparation, I asked XTIAN:

"Hey, should I apply clown paint directly to my face, or should I paint my face black first and THEN apply the clown paint."

I was told -- not in a subtle way -- that I was looking for an ass kicking.

DAMN. Why me?

Evil

ELECTION PLANS

Yo people, impromptu State Recount Debacle Party, sponsored by The Hose. Party at XTIAN's pad. Bring beer and 3 gallons of water per person, in case riots break out.

We are also in the early stages of planning the followup party, tentatively named Sandra Day O'Connor Picks The President Party. Bring a likeness of Clarence Thomas to hang in effigy. Also bring pot.