Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Nice to See StevieB: Alltrack


By StevieB

When thinking about saying goodbye to my Wrangler, I had trouble walking away. It was like being in a relationship where you only see the thrills even though you know they're treating you wrong. Yes, the fuel pump had to be replaced multiple times; but it was sexy sitting in a trailhead's parking lot. Sure, the oil seemed to disappear every three weeks, but I could drive over any shopping center's curbing. Which is truly the best measure of the American males' ego. There comes a time; however, when even in the most dysfunctional of relationships you eventually wake up to the fact that you are putting more effort into it than you could possibly get back.

My main motivation in replacing my Jeep is how sexy-cool a new car would compare in its level of coolness in trailhead parking lots. This is why I chose the VW Alltrack. It just oozes off roady snobbiness. Yet snowflake uniqueness

Tuesday, October 9, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: The Philosophy of She/Her

By StevieB

This semester I am taking a Feminist Philosophy class. Now, I guess I should of read the description, not that it matters, but I guess I just assumed its content.

I was overly excited to finally take a class on feminist philosophers. Meaning the study of philosophy via a feminist lens. Like the collective works of Hypatia of Alexandria and Ayn Rand.  I didn’t really read the fine-print the (philosophy verses philosophers) part of the title. However, I am very delighted with the surprise. The readings of proto-utilitarianism ideals, mixed with gender equality getting their foundation in the 1700’s is quite cool to see unfold throughout time.


Also, this is the first class that I am actually connecting with and feel comfortable interacting.  In the typical class I am the large bear squeezed into a desk/chair, A Chesk, if you will, usually twenty years older than the other students. While in this class I am still over twenty years older than my classmates, they actually have smart, and witty opinions to share. The tiny gay boy, eighteen years old,  that sits next to me has his own YouTube channel dedicated to make-up and making one’s own gender neutral clothing. He literally says literally every-other word, but he’s engaging and asks incredible questions.


Another reason why this class is great is that it’s held in the Philosophy Department’s conference room. No chesks, just a long table with sixteen open, and interested individuals. The only hiccup is Clara. Clara is the self-appointed political correctness thought police. She attempts to remind us that trans individuals need to have open gender-role labels. When turning this to me, it was followed by me explaining that the dude I was referencing at the time had self-disclosed male pronouns, and his own trans experience did not need to be defended. Clara admittedly doesn’t know any trans individuals, but wants to make sure we get the pronouns right. Good for her.

 

All-in-all I am happy for this class. It makes me want to change my major, again, to gender studies. Then I’ll be able to say that I am thirty years older than my classmates as I will never actually graduate.

Monday, October 1, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: The Astral Plane of Chinese Delivery

By StevieB

Yes, we probably order Chinese food too often in our household. By, this I mean we have Chinese delivered about twice or three times a week. This comes from the fact that Grub Hub has our standard order, from the same place on record. It just seems the easiest thing to click a button on the iPhone and soon after have piping hot dinner on the kitchen bar. All this whilst the spinach leafs slowly turn brown in the refrigerator. Death comes quickly to spinach as the intent to make butter chicken dies. 

The odd bit is the delivery driver. I assume he’s an INFJ or first year Hufflepuff. Or maybe he’s magical. Now I have seen a lot of porn movies involving delivery drivers. I also have years of experience avoiding cooking and relying on a random stranger to bring me dinner. And yet, I have never had much experience with a possible inhuman, or maybe spirit-being delivery dude.

Here’s what happens.

When the time comes for the delivery, a soft thud, not unlike the sound of a fluffy bunny being tossed at out front door, can be heard. Then a text…. “Your food is outside…” opening the door is like if Santa came, but you didn’t have a chimney. No knock. No awkward interaction with a delivery driver. Just a text. I; of course, cannot leave this alone… To me, this was a challenge of see the delivery dude. A quest of interacting with the delivery spirit.

When the text comes, I started to quickly run to the window to catch sight of him. Like a kid looking for Santa. I only witnessed a half-primered, lowered Intra peel away from the curb. But, then I knew he could exist on the astral plane, if even for a small time. Then I waited inside, next to the front door. When I heard the distinct sound of General Tso's name-sake dish thumping against the door I pounced. Swinging the door open I caught just a glimpse of bleached anime hair zipping around the corner. “Run mystical delivery dude! Run like the wind!” I whispered as the smell of wontons filled my nose.

This is when I learned that I am not meant to meet my delivery dude. Even if I forced it, I may only destroy the magical sphere in which he exists. He departs the muggle existence, slips this dimension, as it should be… in an Acura with miss-matching wheels. As I scarf down my Moo-Shu chicken I re-read his communication. “Your food is outside” someday I might text back.

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: The Break Up


By StevieB

It has been close to two months since we broke up. Well… I terminated the relationship. I have felt free in a transcendent way ever since. I cannot explain how unhappy I truly was until I gathered the strength to walk away.

Okay, it wasn’t all that hard. But, after I ended it I began to realize what a time thief it was. I was somehow addicted to Facebook for all of my world information. Then… I was free. I deleted my profile and ran away. Ya’know? It was the best choice. Now, I’m sure I could blog about how the massive data sell-off that hit the news convinced me, as I am a person of mindful character. It happened around the same time and it was a small part, yet it was more about the obligations of connections to Facebook groups and friend lists. Mostly it was that I would no longer explore the web for new blogs and sites to discover. Yes, we know that blogging has long been killed off thanks to Facebook posts. Why write a page of experience when we can post on our page for our selective connections to comment? Facebook gives us a formatted list of discussions and opinions for better or worse. It is not exploring new ideas, it is tailoring your audience to your taste. It also sets up a battle field that makes us a hero to supporters whilst tearing those that dare to have an opposing opinion.

After the big delete, I find that I am exploring for my news again. I am going down nerdy rabbit-holes of nerd stuffs. Back in 2008 I had pages and pages of blogs and obscure content I followed. Did you know that Tumbr is still around??? Wow. Stunned.

Mike the roommate, who will always keep it real with me, says it’s because I get a rush of self-satisfaction (holier-than-thou) by being able to say, ”I… I don’t DO Facebook.” And, he is right about that. It feeds that special snowflake hipster that lives in side of me. He is a bitch. The old man in me says it’s nice to not bother with all that family and friend drama. Both sides are excited about exploring the web and not having it tailored and edited for me.



Monday, May 21, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Dragcon


By StevieB

Did I mention that we went to Dragcon this last weekend? I understand how it could go unmentioned as there has been a lot going on. With my Mother’s death and finials week for school it sort of seemed like the red tape at the end of a sprint.

Dragcon is the Rupaul’s Drag Race convention occurring annually in Los Angeles. All things dragish are celebrated. For me it was a reward for ending this last semester of school. My final grades haven’t been posted, but I’ll reward myself for by passing grades now. We flew out a couple of days before the event started and took a trip to Hogsmeade, via the Harry Potter land inside Universal Studios, Hollywood. Where I drake my fill of Butterbeer, and rode all the wizarding rides.

 
Kim Chi; Good enough to eat
The drag-convention was absolutely amazing. I was able to have a picture taken with my favorite Queen, Kim Chi. And one of my all-time heroes in life, Michelle Visage. I follow Michelle on her podcast where she speaks a lot of good health via food choices and most importantly life choices. She’s quite remarkable in her life outlook. All-in-all it was a great time and I am grateful for the timing to come at the end of such a tumultuous period.











Thursday, May 10, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Cars

By StevieB

I am still vacillating on a new car. As I have been blogging for over ten years I can look back and see that I go through this phase every four years. Which, keeping a car for four years is actually incredible considering my history and eighteen year old level of instant gratification on everything in my life.

Sure the Jeep is fine, other than the fact that Mike, the bestie, who also is a certified expert Jeep mechanic, doesn’t want to fix it any more. I mean, his only replaced the fuel pump three times. In four years. But, now he wants to break up with my Jeep. So, now I have to decide what car will define me for the next four years.

Mike says that I don’t like a car unless it’s attached to a “holier-than-thou cult.” I need to drive a vehicle that has me standing apart from the muggle drivers on the road. Not fancy, like the BMW emblem on the hood would make me feel superior, to the contrary. He believes that my car needs to give me the same feeling that a freshly pressed vinyl album of an obscure alternative band (one you’ve never heard of) gives a bearded hipster. A hip-alternative (yet totally non-douchey) to the BMW, but just as snow flaky.

Yeah. He is totally right. But, he spends a lot of time around people and the relationship with their cars.

So, you would immediately think something like Mini Cooper or Subaru. They kind of have the same sensibilities as my Jeep Wrangler. Alter-hip-cool. This was what I thought until I sat at an intersection in the Boulder, Colorado. There were six cars around me, waiting for the light. All six were blue Subaru Outbacks. It’s like the city has a law to ticket non-Subaru drives inside the city limits of this up-market college town.

So it’s back to thinking about the Volkswagen Alltrack wagon. A sporty station wagon that is just sporty enough, yet station wagony enough to say, “Yeah, I drive a sport wagon. I’m so cool.. But I don’t need you to tell me I’m cool.” But, there are so many things to consider. Like will the bike rack on top look imposing enough. Like the Yakima Rack attached to the spear tire of my Jeep. Sure I’ve never used it, but, it looks like I’m a mountain biker.

After next weekend I really need to decide, God help me if my fuel pump goes out on my Wrangler. Again.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Nice to See StevieB: Purgatory

By StevieB 

If there is such a thing as Purgatory, in the afterlife, I know what my Purgatory will look like. If it is like the Catholics describe it; a place of suffering inhabited by the souls of sinners who are expiating their sins before going to heaven, then I can tell what it looks like.

My personal purgatory will be spent wandering around the prepared foods department of a Whole foods.

Hours are spent with me dazed and confused moving from one bar to the next. Approaching the soup bar to squish the ladle down in over-cooked chicken noodle soup, or white bean chili. Then, to the deli counter to gaze upon the chicken wraps. Starving for something, yet not sure how the normal people of the world make a decision in a sea of choices.

Last night, I approached the area with the intent to pick up dinner. The boyfriend quickly made some healthy choices, and disappeared. Leaving me to fend for myself. I had the look of an eight-year-old, who after hiding in the middle of a clothing rack full of women’s blouses, emerged to find his Mom, gone. I was alone in Hell Foods. I entered the Whole Foods convincing everyone around me that it was a “soup night.” Only to find none of the eighteen dozen soups to be quite right. Maybe salad…..? no. It was either malaise, or my fear of food commitment that sent me into the desert for a plastic-boxed food vision quest. 


What seemed to be hours later the boyfriend called out from the edge of the desert. “Ready?” He asked munching on kelp-kale fun crisps. I left with a tiny container of tomato soup. My soul still hovering over the olive bar.

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Four-Eyes

By StevieB

After what seemed an insane amount of shopping, I have finally bought new glasses. This is my first pair of bi-focal lenses. And, it's the problem I'm having. I spend most of my day unable to see anything. I am constantly looking through the top part of my lens, designed for distance vision, to read and text. Then using the bottom section to drive. The optometrist did warn me, but really. At this point I would see better without glasses at all.

I will; however, keeping trying. But, if you see me without my glasses upon my face, you know not to inquire to their whereabouts. If you see me with my glasses on, I won't see you anyway. So I'll probably step on your foot. I'll apologize now.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Choose a Drag Name, Kitties

By StevieB

There are countless ways to choose a drag name. Some of the formulas include the name of the street you grew up on, mixed with your first pet’s name. I truly believe the proper way to attach a name to that fierce inner drag persona you have is to use Google. 

More preciously google your local animal shelter and pull up the “Adoptable Cats” page. I’m not sure who is in charge of naming the plethora homeless kitties, but they are witty little people.  So, all you need to do is can down the kolumns of kitties. The left side is your first name. The right your last...


Who knows, maybe you could adopt a cat, that matches your sickening new stage name.  Welcome to the stage!! Linda Midge!!!!!!!!  

In Denver, Colorado you can start here...

Denver Dumb Friends League

Monday, February 5, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Trapped in a Tiny Chair

By StevieBYesterday was the first day of class. I am pretty excited for this chapter of my eduction. I can now just choose the classes I want; meaning, I am only sitting in classes that I have an exceedingly high level of interested. First up is a class devoted to the Thirty Years War. One of my my favorite chapters of history. That time-frame in Central Europe between 1618 and 1648 when the Holy Roman Emperor (who was not holy, not Roman, nor an Emperor) Ferdinand II of Bohemia was crowned Holy Douchebag I by kicking some Protestants in the balls. This led Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden to be credited with starting that hair cut that every gay male has today. So, another reason we owe a debt to Swedish trendsetters.

The Professor of this class has stated he will stay away of the popular stories of 1600s and 1700s. Because If I have to hear one more lecture of the Restoration of the English Monarchy, I may puke. I kid, I kid. A bit. This class should be all French/Dutchiness.

The other class is Modern Philosophy. Which I thought was gonna be all Ayn Rand and debating Quasi-Realism to prove that I don't exist. But no Atlas Shrugging for me. Nope. Starting out we will be finding out that we think, therefore we...be. Sorry, René Descartes. It's fine, but your haircut bothers me. Seriously who wears bangs?? Outside of Zooey Deschanel. Both of these classes are in the older buildings on campus which means the class rooms are small and they sport those desks attached to chairs. This makes me feel like a circus bear stuck on a bicycle. I cram my large frame into the tiny chair and attempt to blend in with the muggle-sized co-students. This is a small price to pay however, to learn of Swedish war victories.

Monday, January 29, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Black Alert

By StevieB

I have become addicted to two new TV shows. This rarely happens because I am usually to busy to watch television. Since I have one more week until school starts, I am enjoying this time. The first is a Korean show designed for fourteen year old girls. But, since I am a fourteen year old girl, it fits. It is Boon Soon; or, Strong Woman Do Bong-soon. To sum it up, it is about a Korean twenty-something that has super powers. She needs to hide these powers from the dreamy boy she loves. Hilarity ensues. The next, is an easy guess. The new Star Trek Discovery. Although the last episode left me a bit bored. I do; however, love one new aspect, since we (Star Trek nerds) know the RED-ALERT announcement, it was exciting to hear a new alert. BLACK-ALERT! BLACK-ALERT! This announcement is when the ship jumps in a new, unseen way for the Star Trek universe.

This immediately made me want to make this sound as a new ring tone. Having my phone loudly ring "black-alert" with the computer background noise, was super-cool. This to replace my traditional, Star Trek "red-alert" ring tone.

I, being super proud of finding this ring tone online, then having to download conversion apps, wanted to show off my new ring tone to the boyfriend last night. Filled with pride, I launched my new BLACK-ALERT sound. Sure he was going to be proud of my nerdiness and also connect it to the new Star Trek Discovery show. "Baby, you want your phone to announce black alert?" He paused to let that sink in. It did not sink into my brain. "Baby. Your phone is going to scream, 'black' alert?!"

Oh God.... I didn't even....

I guess I wont have a Star Trek black alert ring tone.

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Nice To See StevieB: Spring Pooh

By StevieB

It is that time of year again. no, not Gymuary. Although that phenomenon is in full force. Is it just me, or is it every January that the "Circuit Bros" attempt to take over? They begin to lay dumbbells and water bottles on every bench they quite possibly use in all of 2018. You can walk into the free-weight section at your local gym, and feel that the rapture happened as there are nothing but a sea of towels, water bottles, and tiny dumb bells scattered around the area. God wants the fit. Apparently.

For me, this time of year happens twice a year. About two weeks before the next semester of school. I log into my school's bookstore website and see what books I need. Then I go to Amazon and see what I can buy cheaper online. 99.9% of the time, I get lazy, forget to order through Amazon and still end up at the University bookstore to buy my used/abused copies of needed books.

This Spring, I am taking Early Modern Europe History, and Modern Philosophy. The books for the history class are Fractured Europe, Luis XIV, The Thirty Years War, and ironically a book called Enlightenment. All of these are "required reading." I totally dig early European history, so I am super excited; because, that is the kind of nerd I am. 


The Modern Philosophy class has no books listed yet. Other than the famous The Tao of Pooh which I read cover-to-cover at least twenty times in my 20s. Until I left it on the seat of my best-friend's Fiero when it was repossessed. (The car-- not the book). So..... Literally I am going to re-read Winnie the Pooh in University. I wonder if I should ask Burt to replace my copy of Pooh that was lost in his Pontiac Fiero?

Monday, January 8, 2018

Nice to See StevieB: Starting Somethin'

By StevieB

Mike, my single and available roommate, and I share quite the great house. We think so, anyway. Great views, great kitchen. The only downside is that there is only a one-car garage. This, of course is not a point of contention as we have simply decided to swap out the garage on a monthly basis. On the first of the month, the other guy gets to start parking their vehicle in the tight garage. This morning was the first full day for my Jeep to be snug inside, whilst Mikes Sportage had to bare the freezing temps. At precisely 5:14AM I heard Mikes super-fancy toothbrush spring to life through our bathrooms’ common wall. I am not sure why his electric toothbrush is so frickin' loud, But maybe the more money you spend on a toothbrush the louder it is to instill a sense that it is doing a great job.

Since I knew that in seven minutes time, Mike would come bounding out of his bedroom, insert toast into his mouth and make for the door, I thought I would treat him. Grabbing his keys I made my way to my bedroom window. I saw Mike's car sitting out in the cold, shivering in its first night in the frost and snow. I pressed the Remote Start fob on his key chain.... excited about how happy my best friend will be when he is greeted to a warm car.

Nothing.

Well, his fob is different than mine... I kept pressing it over and over. The car just sat there; un-started.

I examined the key fob....."G-enie" was the logo upon it. "Funny, Genie makes garage door openers AND remote starts?" This is when I glanced over and noticed that the garage door was making yet another round of its fiftieth open and down sequence. Turns out Mike does not have a remote start on this car. I carefully returned his keys to the kitchen bar and continued my morning routine perplexed what happened to his remote start... thingy. 


Turns out he has not installed a remote start on this car yet. Since he buys cars so often, serves him right to have a cold car.

Monday, January 1, 2018

Nice to See StevieB: Jeep Steve

By StevieB

I have been thinking about buying a new car. Although it seems I just bought my Jeep Wrangler, it’s been four years. It boggles my mind to type that four years have passed since my Jeep was brand new. I love my Jeep, but the itch for a new vehicle grows larger with each passing day. I mean, I would keep my knobby tired, super cool friend forever. But, change is also good. What is catching my eye, you ask? Well, something that is the furtherest thing from a Jeep; a VW Wagon. The Alltrack, actually. But, yes. It’s a station/estate wagon. About half the size of the Wrangler.

For some odd reason station/estate wagons appeal to me. The sport ones anyway. There’s this cool. I don’t care what you think vibe. Kind of like a Jeep. Just in a different direction. Other than the Douche Bro. aspect people attribute to a Jeep in traffic.

I guess I should go test-drive the Alltrack again and make sure I can live the next four years sitting so low in traffic. And whether I can give up that butch feeling that comes over me when I enter Chessmen Park in a 4X4.

Friday, December 29, 2017

Nice To See StevieB: I’ll Never Forget You!

By StevieB

I broke down and bought a new phone. No, not the IphoneX. There’s something unsettling about the face recognition thing. But, that is a delusional blog post for another day. I really had to buy a new iPhone because of the huge mistake I made upon buying my old phone. A 6S+ with a tiny amount of storage. Dumb I know. This meant not being able to have any apps on my phone, like the Blogger app. After a daily pop-up stating I couldn’t take a picture because my storage was low, I went to the Apple store. Now I’m all about the 8+. With the largest storage they offer.

The hardest part was the giving up on Michael Phelps.

See... back during the London 2012 Olympics, I saw American swimmer, Micheal Phelps for the first time. Every time he casually entered the swimming facility, he was sporting Sol Republic head phones. I ran out and bought a pair. I’ve been wearing them ever since. But..... the new phone doesn’t have a headphone jack for the cord; It’s all Bluetooth. Yes, there’s the adapter. But, it’s not the same. Also yes, during the Rio Olymics, Phelps wore wireless headphones. But, the impression was already made.

It’s time so say goodbye to my Sol Republic headphones. The era has passed. Goodbye old friends. I’ll sport wireless Bluetooth and think of the glory days.

Thursday, December 7, 2017

Nice To See StevieB: The Annual Christmas Rant

By StevieB

Ahh, December 7th. It’s time to gather around and listen to Uncle Steve’s annual Christmas rant…..

WHAT THE F*#K DO PENGUINS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS!?!?

Have you seen the inflatable, glowing Christmas crap that everyone displays on their front lawns? Big billowing snowmen, elves, and insidiously happy penguins. Seriously, What the heck to penguins have to do with Christmas?

At night it’s quite a cute little scene. A winter wonderland all blown up and bopping around to the forced air whooshing up their butts. During the day it’s another story, driving through any upscale neighborhood it's a reenactment of Jim Jones goes to Christmas town. Dead, flat elves and snow people scatter the lawns like a mass suicide cult hit the North Pole. A massacre of merriment. One half-inflated penguin dragging its self off the lawn coughing out,  I only live in Antarctica and parts of South America why am I even here?

Aaaaaaaaaghh!”

Monday, November 27, 2017

Nice To See StevieB: The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt

By StevieB

It's an odd feeling when you turn around at your local gay bar and notice that the bartender is sporting your shirt. Not the same Nasty Pig style. Not the same Nasty Pig collection of shirts sold only in the NY Nasty Pig store. No, your very shirt.

This happened to me just recently; and it made me go, Hmmmmm. How does a Leather Bar, bartender end-up wearing a shirt of mine? As far as I knew, I hadn't touched him, in the biblical sense. So how was beardy the bear bartender now sporting my hot t-shirt? There was a mystery at foot, and I was just the queen to adjust my glasses and turn into Velma from ScoobyDoo.


It was time to utilize, The principle  of Occam's razor. The theory that states that among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected. Simple solutions ultimately prove correct. You know, that philosophical theory. So, I employed Occam's theory on The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt.

As far as I knew my shirt was safely folded up using my Miracle Folder in my dresser drawer. But, after a long examination, and removing all doubt the that was my shirt, the previous assumption to the location of my shirt was clearly false. This was because, it was currently covering a burly bar tender. So...... when did my shirt leave my company? Months ago, when I "interacted" with..... the hot bartender in this bar.... But?? But?? Oh...


Bartender number one must of retained my cool Nasty Pig shirt after Nasty visited for a holiday. Then, in the interim the shirt traveled (without clearly being washed) onto Bartender number two. "The two bartenders, must be f**king!" I said out loud in my best baggy orange turtlenecked, Velma Dinkley voice. "Nah, they're not allowed to date each other. They'd get fired." The friend next to me offered, in alarmed response to me randomly pointing my finger in the air and blurting out such a non-sequitur. Turns out, after flirting with Bartender number one, my hypotheses was correctly proven.


I solved the case of The Case of the Switched Out Leather Bar T-Shirt. But, I lost a shirt, because I really don't want that shirt back now.

Monday, November 20, 2017

StevieB: Defending Socrates' Virtue

By StevieB

In my mind I am waging a heated war. In my mind.

The unlawful combatant that is preemptively attacking my reinforced boarder, you ask? My Ancient Philosophy Professor. Okay, so mostly I’m killing him twice weekly with my mind powers. Okay, so I’m mostly staring down his evil gaze whilst he attempts to teach me Plato’s Republic. Yes, I’m learning new definitions and arguments for how we as a society define our concepts of “intent” verses “action” but, still that’s not the point. I hate this professor with every fiber of my knowledge yearning being.

The most important thing to pass along to you in this blog post is that, yes; it is widely known that Socrates liked his guys young. Real young. But, in Protagoras, by Plato I have learned that Socrates was not a Pedophile. It is clearly written that Socrates’ latest boyfriend has a beard. Stating that his taste in men is when the beard first grows in on the face. But, heaven forbid you bring this fact up in the middle of class! This Professor sure likes to box up the world’s strongest and most quoted philosopher as a boy licker. Lasers shot from my eyes. In my mind.

Okay, this isn’t really the reason I want him dead. It is because I wrote an eight page paper on the concept of Akrasia. You know, the state of mind in which someone acts against their better judgment through weakness of will. I stopped myself from using example of dating dudes ten-fifteen years younger to explain this concept. Instead maintained a professional tone. At the end of this project I submitted a paper I was really proud to complete. I got a C. Okay, a C-. I would share with you why I got such a low grade, based upon his full-page hand written tear down, but I cannot possible read his handwriting. I can make out “I know you can do better than this…” What??? You don’t know me!!! Jerk. Upon my failure to read his comments, he then announced that he will not review any student papers. “Not my policy.” He stupidly announced. 


I have one more paper to write before the semester ends on the 13th of December. I’m sure “I can do better” not that I know what that is.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Nice To See StevieB: Nothing But Net


By StevieB

If you follow my non sequiturs elsewhere on the web, you would have noticed that I have started going to the gym after midnight. This is for several reasons: I’m up anyway, the gym is empty and I don’t have to wait of equipment, but mostly it is due to my worsening Agoraphobia, or Anthropophobia. It is easier to have the entire gym to myself in the middle of the night.

A couple of weeks back I stepped into the empty basketball court, just to get a drink of water. As I paused to wipe my chin I noticed the basketball court was completely flooded with light. A sense of emptiness was overwhelming as it usually was filled to capacity with guys at various stages of shooting hoops. That night it was deserted. The smell of the hardwood, along with the strange buzz left-over from high school gym class hung in the air. I get a strange feeling on basketball courts. A feeling of wanting to be in control, wanting the mastery of the wood and colorful lines, the enjoyment and comradeship of competition. Yet, as I stood next to the water fountain, the feeling of eighth grade gym class washed over me. The same feeling I would get from sitting in the CEO chair in a board room, hosting a dinner party, or being in front of a naked woman. A feeling of not understanding what should happen. A feeling that everyone around me knows the natural chain of events (enjoys them in fact) but hasn’t let me into the circle.

As I turned to leave the uncomfortable environment, I noticed a basket ball over in the corner.... Without thinking I went over and picked it up. I attempted to dribble. I wasn’t that bad. Until I hit my shoe. I walked out in front of the basket. All the technique I had ever learned was from Mr. Johnson’s gym class during the First Bush administration.

Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Missed.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Not even close.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Missed.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Hit the rim.

I left the court, and turned in the ball to the front desk as if I had a great game with my boys. The next night I found myself back on the wood.

Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Not even close.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Hit the rim.

I had watched a dozen YouTube videos. I took notes on finding my aim...

Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Hit the rim.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Nothing but net.

I squealed. As I heard the squee bounce off the gym walls the glass court door opened and in walked a couple of guys talking to me in Greek about a “pick up” game. I pretended I was a deaf-mute and ran out of the court like a chunky eight year old girl running home, after the mean girls would not let her play Barbies. I left the ball on the wood.

The next night. I stood with fortitude. I announced to the empty gym, “This is Sparta!”

Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Nothing but net.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Nothing but net.
Aimed the ball. Flipped the wrist. Shot. Nothing but net.

Monday, October 9, 2017

Nice To See StevieB: At The Car Wash

By StevieB

You know the lady that stands in the lanes of the carwash and when the attendant is done up selling you to a forty-dollar carwash she looks at your windscreen in hopes of sell you her chip repair services? And how she tries to hit on you?

No? Just me then.

I have very few obsessions. Other then, well a certain British Sci-fi show and Pumas and Apple products and the gym and…maybe… we should stop. The most unnecessary of my compulsive behavior would be my obsession of keeping my car clean. Really, really clean. This manifests in a car wash every four days. What? It’s dirty. Unclean.

This resulted in friends saying things like “you’re going to strip the wax if you wash that car too much.” Which led directly to me waxing my spoiled spoilered baby once a month. Thanks.

Mostly I can fight back and just go to the drive through bay and wash my silver saloon with the high-pressure wand. But, when it’s really dirty or I’ve had a bad day it goes to the fancy car wash. This is where I feel like a bad Dad If I just get the twelve dollar car wash, like the extra rinse and “clear coat” finish will stop evil from coming to the sports sedan. Oy vey iz mir, so I get the thirty-nine ninety nine dollar car wash so no one will judge me.

It was during one of these trips that I met my girlfriend, Dana. I complemented her on her Pumas; she sold me on rock-chip repair feeding into my obsession of keeping the Lotze perfect. I was a match made in heaven. Unfortunately, last Saturday she wanted to take our relationship to the physical level. Oy vey iz mir!

As I paid for my forty-dollar bath she approached me to see how the windscreen was holding up after her handy work. I said how it was great which was code for wanted to her to slowly work her hands over my bicep. This is when she offered more than her windshield services. Every fiber in my body stopped the physical reaction of retching upon her Rush Tee-shirt. But, then I stopped; she does have nice Pumas. I wonder if I’d get a discount at the car wash?