Monday, June 27, 2011

A rectangle is not a square...

Or in this case, a bum is not a hobo, but a hobo could be a rectangle. 


No wait, a hobo can be a bum just as a square can be a rectangle.


I was awful at Geometry.  And osmosis.  The stuff is on the outside so the water goes out? Or does the water go in?  I know it all has to do with making things equal, but I only ever think about it now when I see my pruned up fingers for being in the shower or the pool too long.  That confuses me even more.  Because there's "stuff" in the water, but there's also way more water so I'm never really sure if I'm pruney because the water goes in and makes me super saturated or if the water goes out leaving me dry.  If the latter is true, then I don't understand how because I am in enough water to sink a small boat (possibly a pirogue?).  At least when I'm in the pool there's that much water as I do not have a 12000+ gallon tub.  I think after a certain gallon-age, a tub becomes a pool.   So, thinking about geometry, if a square is a rectangle, but a rectangle cannot be a square, does this mean a tub can be a pool but a pool cannot be a tub?  Or can a pool be a tub and a tub be a pool?  Whatever, I learned to recognize triangles in relation to Doritos and I put smiley faces on all my proofs.  I made an A.  Full on 100 to be exact.  Don't hate.


Aside from the fact that the Universe invented things like Geometry and Osmosis to confuse me and make whine to my high school teachers, it also made homeless people.  What harm can homeless people be you say?  Plenty. 


Prior to writing this, I wanted to make sure I was using correct terminology as to ensure as little backlash as possible.  I looked up "hobo" as that's what I call 'em.  Apparently a hobo is a traveling worker, where a tramp travels but doesn't work, and a bum neither travels nor works. Hobos even have codes to tell other hobos things and there's like a code of ethics.  My worldview (at least of the homeless) has just been turned upside.  They're more organized than a Kmart! 




That being said, regardless of work ethic, organization, or distance travel/to be traveled, I will refer to the homeless as hobos still.  At least for this post and in conversation with those around me. 


I digressed, I apologize.


Hobos are secret agents of the universe.  They don't inconvenience me, however, they scare me or make me more uncomfortable than watching a sex scene in a movie with my parents.  And not only this, but either 1) the universe has painted a giant sign only visible to the crazy hobos above my head that says "Talk to this guy" or 2) it has equipped ALL of them with some sort of locator device that allows them to find me in a crowd of 9 millionor just 17 people.  I have only seen this level of "spot the person" skill exhibited by two other folks: Batman and anyone from the IRS. 


While there are many encounters with the homeless-kind, let me provide you with the more exciting examples.


Example # 1:  I'm in a train station in Belgium.  I'm drinking a sprite.  My "someone is near you" sense went off to my rear left.  I thought it was my friend who recently went to the restroom.  Then, I did an inventory of those I was with.  To my upper left, my mother and father. To my upper right, my aunt, my uncle, and my said friend.   At this point, I become uncomfortable.  I look to my side.  There is a man, with a freakish grin and wide eyes looking at me.  He motions the "drink motion" then nods and walks off. 


AT NO POINT DID ANYONE IN MY PARTY WARN OR ASSIST ME IN THIS ENCOUNTER!


Example# 2:  Recently (read Today), I was at a hospital.  I stepped outside of the ER room and into the wilderness that is the parking lot to make a phone call.  I like to follow some rules and not call people from cell phone restricted areas.  Why? Because the universe will make it so that my one phone call will stop someone's pacemaker.  I can't handle that kind of pressure.  Too much responsibility.  So, as I'm walking in, a hobo with his bags asks me if I can take him because he lives close by.  I tell him (honestly) that I can't because I'm with a patient and have no idea when I'll be leaving.  He asks me to consider it and I tell him again that this just isn't a realistic option because in theory he could wait for hours for me to leave when he could just walk and be there faster.  As I start to walk away, he follows.  And then loudly proclaims "I'm not making you do it!" 


At this point in my day, I've had too much sass. I boldly turn around on one heel, tilt my head like a disgruntled yet confused bird of prey and say "You're right, you're not making me do it and I'm not going to consider the offer because I was nice about it at first but you continue to ask when I've said that I am unable to.  So please, stop asking!"  He then asks me for a light to which I reply "I do not smoke, therefore I do not have a light" and proceed to take my belongings out of my pocket and dangle/jingle them in the air like a true smart ass then walk back in.   About 3 hours later, after leaving to get food I return to the hospital to find this man sitting the in ER room next to mine in hand cuffs and a hospital gown with 2 police officers.  Poor man? Oh no, he should know you don't cause trouble outside of a hospital when you've had a bit too much brandy.  Or whatever it is was on his breath.


Example #3:  This one time I was walking down the streets of Knoxville wearing a Superman logo shirt.  I like comics, don't judge me.  Then I hear this deep, booming voice from my right say "HEY SUPAHMAN, HEY SUPAHMAN!"  Imagine James Earl Jones but with a hint or two of vodka.  Yeah, that.  I look to my right to see a tall, scruffy, Dallas Cowboys jacketed African American male with blood shot eyes walking towards me to ask me if he could ask me a question.  I tell the man I am in a hurry and we part ways. 


While not an awful encounter, this man proved to be the Rain Man of the Hobos.  Every time I was walking in Knoxville, I walked in fear of the Dallas Cowboys Jacket.  You know how when you go in public and you see that person you don't want to talk to, you go out of your way to avoid them.  Say you'll cross the street or go down the feminine hygiene and family planning aisle.  Whatever it takes, your pride and/or safety are not a factor in avoiding this person.   Well, that's how it was for me.  I'd step out and look as far down the strip as possible to see if I could see the James Earl Hobo.  If I spotted the jacket,  I waited til later for food and found a back way.  A few times I tried to hide myself in a group of people or by wearing a hoodie.  Or both.  In the cover of the moonless night.  While using a cloaking device from the future. 


He still found me.  Every.  Time.  I'd hear from across the 4 lane road "HEY SUPAHMAN!"  And no, I did not wear my ONE superman logo shirt every time I left the dorm.  I was lazy in college, not dirty.  How this man remembered and spotted me baffles me to this day.   He always wanted to ask me a question.  Every time I said I was in a hurry.  He was like "that's cool".  One time the universe was especially hateful and made me wait at a cross walk like after I said I was in a hurry.  My theory is that this man was Jesus and he wanted to see if I was nice.  I guess I failed that one.


I did help a homeless from time to time.  One dude told me he was put on the wrong bus from jail in Louisiana and was hungry and diabetic and hadn't eaten in 3 days and had kidney issues (yes, he said all this without the punctuation).  After I told him I was going to Wendy's and he could tag along for a burger, I assumed he'd stop talking but then he told me he was jail for assaulting a police officer.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel like if someone offers to buy you a meal, you stop talking about being a criminal.   In the end, he got two cheeseburgers, some fries and a diet coke.  Because diabetics are only allowed to drink Diet Coke.


So to recap:
1) Triangles are Doritos.
2) Osmosis is a hard concept to absorb.
3) Cloaking devices do not exist in this time period.
4) Don't play "Where's Waldo?" with hobo in a Dallas Cowboys Jacket.  He'll always win. 


Universe: 3.  Me: 1 


Yes, I get 1 point.  .5 for buying the dude food, .25 for respecting cell phones and pacemakers, .25 because the sassy hobo got cuffed.  

Friday, June 17, 2011

The Primal Itch. (No, it's not an STD)

So it begins innocently enough with a minor oversight:   Forgetting to put on sunscreen...

...unless of course you're me on a week the universe has some spare time.  Then it's not an oversight at all.  It's an orchestrated event where the universe makes the pool look so damn inviting that I get all excited, throw on swim trunks, grab my goggles with the nose thing (we'll talk about attempts to breathe and not breathe underwater later), and dive right on in.  Not once did the thought of "Oh, hey the sun is out and it's kind of hot and burny" ever cross my mind.  Why?  The universe took its cosmic phalanges and stirred my brain so I'd forget. 

No, it wasn't my fault, I'm not (that) forgetful.  This is my blog, I can shirk responsibility all I want to, stop judging me.

SO then I get in the pool and I'm all like OMG YAY WATER!

Two hours go by, I get out, I feel fine.  I wash off, I do the necessary moisturize-the-burnt-area (my shoulders and back to about my shoulder blades) routine and move on.  I believe I've won.

No.

The next evening, I feel this warmth on my back.  It felt a little something like this.

Any sensible person would feel this and go, "Oh shit, this is painful."  I'm a sensible person.

However, I'm also aware that this solar storm emitting from my back and shoulders is just a ploy.  The universe wants me to use that blue aloe gel sunburn crack stuff. You put it on, you feel better, it wears off, you hurt, the cycle starts over.  This is also the point where you or someone near you Googles and finds that you should take a hot shower while pouring vinegar and peanut butter with sea salt and peppermint lavender tea bags all over your burned areas. Because we all know if it's on Yahoo Answers, it MUST be right.  

Don't lie, you've believed something on Yahoo Answers.  I have too; we're in the same boat.  What? They had sources, one of which was Wikipedia.

After realizing what the 'verse was up to, I gave it the finger and said "I'ma take a shower and use my Aveeno like always!  I got this figured out."

Yeah, no.  Shortly after the Aveeno is rinsed off, the most persistent, piercing, painful, itch begins.  This is the itch I was trying to avoid by properly moisturizing and using colloidal oatmeal body wash.  There's only one name for it: The Primal Itch.  This feeling causes the inner beast to come out until it stops or I'm adequately medicated.

I grind my teeth as the feeling of a thousand ants crawling under my skin and biting away at the threads that keep my skin attached to my body begins to worsen and worsen.  It's awful.  Imagine the most irritating itch you've ever had (but please don't share, I'm not okay with knowing about your itching in personal areas) and then multiply it by 1000.  Or divide by 0.  Either way, it's an insane feeling.

First come the head convulsions.  I shake my head all around because I have little options at this point. 
Next, the seizing of the shoulders.  Which effectively leads to the last resort : The dog-on-back roll.

These work for about 10.74 seconds, then the itching starts again.  No lotion, cream, or gel will do.  They just piss of the make-believe ants and it gets worse.  Trust me, you think real ants are bad when angry, the make believe ones are hell. 

After enough of this, I down a benadryl or two.  Followed by some advil.  This sort of staves off the pain until I can ease myself back into reality. 

To summarize:
1) Don't give the universe the finger.
2) Oatmeal should be put in bowls, not shower gels.  It's called oat-MEAL, not oat-WASH for a reason.
3) Make-believe ants are not friendly.
4) Too much Benadryl in one night can lead to some scary dreams.

Universe: 2.  Me: 0.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Should there be a comma before "my ass"?

It got me.

Sneaky.  Clever.  Simple.  Effective.


The universe momentarily killed the batteries in my remote.  I was forced to watch an entire episode of  The Electric Barbarellas.

Imagine if the Power Rangers were all female.  And tragic.  


It's not like I could change the channel.  The universal remote that goes to the tv only changes the box channel.  And the only way to have other watchable tv is to change the channel with the box.  


Muting wasn't an option either.  I don't have the original TV remote (also hateful universe).  


I was comfortable and the universe knew that by turning the batteries off (yes, turned them off, don't argue) that the only way to save myself was to get out and turn the TV manually.  


Thirty minutes later, the remote magically works.


Universal remote, my ass.  More like Universe's remote.  


Hell.

Universe: 1.  Me: 0.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Agent of The 'Verse # 1: Food. (Part 1)

An important part of knowing that the universe (also referred to as the 'verse or just 'verse from here on) is against me—and you too—is being able to identify the agents that the ‘verse has hired or unwillingly employed to inconvenience me…or us. 

One of these agents is Food.   It comes in many forms, but if the universe can use food against you, it will.  The ‘verse is quite the culinary artist, so I’ll do my best to present some of what it hides in the picnic basket of doom. Well maybe not doom, more like disappointment.  Yeah, picnic basket of disappointment!


The Lone Cuisine

Apparently this little agent of the 'verse is incredibly cheap to hire out or there is way more supply than there is demand (which is hard to believe) because it's all over the place.  The Lone Cuisine is when you go to the fridge/pantry/spinny cabinet with snacks in it and there is only one thing left in said space.  And usually this one thing is the one thing that you don't have a taste for.  

For example, you go into the cabinet and you look around for something sweet.  You know you bought some pop tarts, 3 boxes of Little Debbies because they were on sale and a huge bag of those flower shaped chocolate chip cookies with the holes in the middle that you used to put on your finger (and still usually do) when you were in Sunday School.  

But lo and behold, none of those items are there!  How in the world did you eat 36 fudge rounds, 16 pop tarts and all of those Sunday school cookies in two and a half weeks?  Then you do the math.  A pack of pop tarts for breakfast for 8 days, then fudge rounds when those ran out, plus a few for dessert because you bought the small fudge rounds and then those cookies just sort of disappear no matter what.

Yup, the only thing left in the cabinet is the granola bar.  Do you want a granola bar? No, it's not sweet.  It's salty and has hints of cinnamon.


And sometimes, this one is compounded in severity by....

The Gilligan's Island

This is more of a state of being made by the fact that you live in some sort of anomaly, but still, the universe is the culprit.  Whenever The Lone Cuisine strikes, you can go out and get something to rectify the situation.   However, if you exist in this tragic state caused by the 'verse, well, sucks for you.   Because here, as the name implies, you're stranded.  Not necessarily because you fail to have transportation (which by the way may or may not be the 'verse's fault), but because everything around you is what you've already had every other night this week and there's nothing left to choose from.  You could try to alleviate this by getting something different from somewhere else, but the truth of the matter is that you are still eating a coconut (or a chicken finger or whatever). 

But this agent tends to lock arms with...

The LDR (Long Distance Relationship)

So you've been hit by The Lone Cuisine and realize you're stuck in the Gilligan's Island anomaly.   You think to yourself "Is there any way to fix this?"   Well, you do some self-assessing.  You realize you're in the mood for Chinese.  Good Chinese.  Not the New North Star Fancy King China Buffet.  That shit's shady.  

Where is the nearest good Chinese food?  Oh yeah, it's like 37 minutes away which at this point is far too far away for you to commit.  You love Happy Smile GO! Chinese Bistro, you do.  It means the world to you and you would love to spend time with it, but you just can't find it in you to go THAT far.   You struggle with it because you are hungry, you do miss it, but at the same time, you're tired, it's dinner, and all you really wanted from the beginning was a cookie. 

So you mentally break up with Happy Smile GO! and grab the granola bar.

Universe 1.   You 0.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

One Big Galactic Gamble

Sometimes it doesn't necessarily happen with flashing lights and arrows, but it still happens and I still notice. Other times there is no questioning it no matter how I turn it or what sort of positive spin I put on it.  I've watched, observed, and taken notes.  My conclusion is very clear:  There are spans of time (ranging from the insignificant hour to a grueling month) where the universe is undoubtedly—and unabashedly—out to get me.  

How do I know you say?  Just observe and you will see it's out to get you too.  Remember that time all you wanted to do was take a nap because you had a headache but for some reason everyone you have ever known needed you in that one hour of the entire day when every analgesic you can find in the local pharmacy suddenly became ineffective at getting rid of simple yet pounding headache that you've had all day?

That, my friends, is how you know the universe is out to get you.  It lines everything up just to inconvenience you for however long it has arbitrarily decided.  Personally, I like to picture a giant arm made of a cosmic dust and gas forming and rolling an equally large and gaseous pair of dice; whatever number comes up is plugged into a formula scientists have yet to understand and BOOM the universe now knows how long it's going to annoy you.  

Now, don't confuse the universe's strange fetish of toying with us for just really bad things happening at really inconvenient times.  Those are some other force at work, but the universe probably has its dice-rolling nebulous hand in it and most definitely gets a kick out of the discord, however it still isn't the instigator.

Let's break it down with more examples to help you out.

Road construction when you have to pee: Hateful universe

Your favorite pet having a terrible illness: Other forces

Realizing the sunblock you put on was tanning oil: Hateful universe

The resulting hospitalization for your burns: Other forces

The entirety of that song Ironic by Alanis Morissette: Hateful universe

Those little green peas they put in everything: Other forces (of which I've determined was probably an act of Satan, but we'll go there later).

Any questions?