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Month: February 2008

Steps to becoming a grown-up: Part One

Posted on February 20, 2008

The moment you step out of college, into a work setting, and into some pseudo-responsibility, you don’t become an adult. You might fake it from “9 to 5”, maybe even fool a person or two with a clever ruse, but you’re not. You might binge drink a little less, wake-up naked in a stranger’s yard a little less frequently, and have one or two fewer illegitimate children. And sure, this is progress, but the steps to becoming a grown-up are less about what you stop doing and more about what you start doing.

It is a gradual process, like pooping a pine cone, and it only slowly comes into fruition.

In this umpteen part series, we will look in depth at the process, its individual attributes, step by step, but in no particular alphabetical order.

Part One – Listening to NPR

Talk radio is for grown-ups. No one calls in to give shout outs to the Roosevelt High School junior class or request “Low” by Flo-Rider featuring T-Pain (which is a bit of a shame). It is discourse. Sometimes it’s civil, sometimes not, sometimes it’s smart, sometimes not, sometimes it’s funny, and sometimes not. It’s people talking about stuff. Political stuff. Sports stuff. Life stuff. Grown-up stuff. Kids don’t listen to talk radio.

And if talk radio is the cookie aisle at the grocery store, NPR is the E.L. Fudge Cookies right there on on the middle shelf.

Unlike the scrumptiously delicious E.L. Fudge cookies, though, that are excellent and perceived as nothing but awesome, NPR doesn’t have such a clean rap. Imagine you’re O.J. Simpson and you didn’t kill Nicole Brown and Rob Goldman, no matter how innocent you are, you are always going to be seen as guilty. NPR is in the same conundrum, and arguably much less guilty, of crimes of boredom, stuffiness, banalness and generally seen by the youth as “lameo” (Side note: If you still think youth say “lameo” you also inadvertently have taken a step into adulthood).

It’s actually very much “not lameo”.

Well, some of its programming is. The classical music block is pretty bad. Garrison Kellior is funny, but he talks at the speed of glass bottle Heinz ketchup and with a lack of liveliness unparalleled outside of nursing homes.

But there is some really good stuff on there, too. “This American Life” is, 90% of the time, interesting; “In Character” and “Popular Culture” are always intriguing; and I’ve just started listening to “alt.NPR: Love and Radio”. (Surprisingly, as a sign of hipness, all of these programs are available as podcasts for your convenience and listening pleasure.)

The majority of these programs are people talking about life and elements of life. They tell stories. And as I said, sometimes they’re funny, and they’re always interesting. A lot of times the stories are relatable, able to put your life into perspective, or at least spur some thought. Other times they are absurd, and you get roped in because you can’t believe they are true.

And true stories are always better. They get away with more than fiction. You sit there thinking “bull shit, that couldn’t happen”, but it did and it does and the people on NPR are articulate, so the rope just keeps pulling you along.

Maybe NPR gets a bad rap from uninformed kids. PBS sucks with its Masterpiece Theater and Jane Austin films and America’s youth projectile vomit those feelings on to its sibling, public radio. This is not the case. Listening to NPR will distill those misconceptions. Or maybe, you hit a certain point in your life, a stage in your development to becoming a grown-up, that when you finally listen to NPR, you are at a place in your life that you can’t help but find it interesting.

In either case, and for whatever reason, once you start listening to NPR, it’s one small step for man, one giant leap towards Depends.

The Selfish Hippie 2: Full Throttle

Posted on February 19, 2008
This is the second installment of the Selfish Hippie. For the previous post, go back.

As you know, I’m a fan of conserving, but I don’t do it for the environment. No, Mother Nature is getting the fringe benefits of my selfishness. I conserve because I’ve found ways to do it that help me and the economy, financially. Here’s some of the more recent ways to save money by being hippie-like.

Take Stuff from Work
This one is a given: slowly siphon pens, paper, paper clips, tape, glue, scissors, etc. from your desk or supply closet at the office. Let’s face it, they don’t really need one set of each of these for every desk; people are irresponsible and will lose them somehow anyway. This way, you are constantly borrowing each others materials, building a community (which hippies love) and at the same time sticking it to the man in a small way.

Reverse Junk Mail

Speaking of sticking it to the man, here’s a miniscule but fun way to punish companies who send unsolicited mail while at the same time supporting your government (that way you don’t have to feel bad stealing from the government at other times). Those credit card offers you get every week all come with a pre-paid self-addressed envelope. If you simply throw away the offer, the company has spent about 1 cent sending that to you. However, if you send them back that pre-paid envelope, it now costs them 39 cents at least (more as postage rates go up). Just make sure you don’t include any personal info so they don’t think you’re signing up for their crappy offer. (Some people go even further with this…)

Get Your Sh*t Together
Every month or two, do a complete full scale assault on bedrooms, closets, cabinets, common areas, garages, etc… anywhere you keep a lot of junk. Go through and clean and organize all the junk, and you’ll be amazed at the things you find. About 1/4 of it you can sell on eBay, 1/4 you can donate to charity ($$ tax write-off $$), 1/4 you’ll likely want to keep or can reuse somehow, and 1/4 of it you can throw away.

“Trade” with Your Workplace
Speaking of reusing old junk, oftentimes cleaning out a home office will yield all kinds of strange office supplies which you probably never used (for instance, that industrial sized box of paper clips you bought at Costco because, well, you never know when you’ll need to clip paper together). You could keep these in your home office if you want, but it’s a much more practical idea to bring them to your work. Offices use this kind of stuff all of the time, so you might as well give back a little, since you won’t be using them. Plus, this way there’s no guilt for pilfering stuff from your office (see above). This way, you’re not even stealing, you’re trading!

Do you have any tips on how to become a Selfish Hippie? Look for more installments in the near future.

Wiping or Flicking? Who Nose!

Posted on February 17, 2008

Cost-Benefit Analysis: Booger Flicking vs. Booger Wiping

I don’t care what you say about boogers, everybody pulls one out every now and then. Maybe it’s that one elusive fellow that doesn’t quite come out when you blow your nose, or perhaps you get no greater sense of accomplishment than digging in nice and deep in the morning and cleaning out all the overnight gunk buildup. Either way, from my travels and my study of different peoples, one thing seems to be a uniting factor.

Everybody is a nose-picker.

Some people find nose-picking disagreeable. To you disagree-ers, I disagree. It’s a necessary bodily function, like burping and farting (and almost as fun, too!), and it helps keep you healthy and even exercises your dexterity. After all, boogers are all the dirt, dust, and other allergens polluting the air that your nose is able to catch before you breathe them into your lungs. Don’t believe me? Check out this article (in easy to read, “kid-friendly” terms) about all the gross stuff that make up boogers.

So, we’ve established that everyone picks their nose, and we’ve established that nose-picking is good to get all that stuff out of there. Now, what do you do with it once you’ve got a fresh one sitting on your finger?

In my estimation and research, there are three options: put it in a tissue and throw it away, wipe it on an unseen surface (such as underneath the driver’s seat or under a desk), or flick it as far as possible (I’ve seen one fly across an entire classroom before). For the purposes of this article, let’s assume no tissue is available, leaving only two of the three options available.

Costs of wiping

  • Makes that part of chair/desk/etc unusable, except for booger wiping.
  • Probability someone will notice and be disgusted rises sharply.
  • You miss out on the fun of flicking.
Benefits of wiping

  • You know exact location of booger.
  • Next time you wipe, you can compare sizes, shapes, and consistency with previous boogers.
  • If sitting in furniture of someone you despise, it’s a nice way to leave them a small gift.
  • Due to composition, boogers are always wipeable, but not always flickable.
Costs of flicking

  • You don’t know exactly where it went (ie possibility of stepping on booger later).
  • Possibilty of someone you know and like being hit by “friendly fire.”
  • Sometimes won’t work if consistency is particularly sticky.
Benefits of flicking

  • It’s fun.
  • If in a moving vehicle, you can flick it out the window and send it back to it’s home in nature.
  • Can be used as a subtle attack method against everyday enemies.

I must say I’m surprised at the results. I thought for sure flicking would be the clear winner, but it seems costs of flicking are equal to the benefits, while the benefits of wiping outweigh the costs. It seems, though, that if you practice and can control the direction and velocity (as well as account for wind resistance and aerodynamics), flicking could be a better choice.

What do you think? Am I missing some costs? Benefits? Which do you prefer, and why? Names can remain anonymous, though as we’ve already established, everyone is a booger-picker, so there should be no shame.

Things I Didn’t Learn as a Kid

Posted on February 16, 2008

BREAKING NEWS: Everybody Poops. Don’t believe me, here is the documentation.

I stumbled upon this nugget of information in Borders today. That is some pretty serious news that I somehow missed as a kid. I feel my perspective on life changing…

Again, I exaggerate. I actually figured this factoid out sophomore year of college when my then held belief that only guys, not girls, poop was shattered by an unfortunately unlocked bathroom door, a rather foul but distinctive odor, and a female coed the culprit.

What I am getting at is that I had no idea this book existed, and I know there are many others that were surely staples of most people’s childhoods that I somehow missed out on.

I hadn’t read “The Giving Tree” until the summer before I left for college. That book broke my heart, but it also taught a valuable lesson, that I had I known earlier, probably would have affected my charitable contributions to the world.

I saw “The Karate Kid” for the first time in my life this past weekend. Sure, I pretended to get “wax on, wax off” jokes when people quoted them, and I eventually figured it out, but never from the source.

“Top Gun” was the same way. Saw that freshmen year of college for the first time.

I purport to have an extensive knowledge of popular culture and all things media oriented, and this is probably true of everything post-1994. But that leaves the first 10 years of my life as missed experiences that seem so vital to people our age.

Somebody in some magazine hinted at this, when they commented that so much humor these days is derived from popular culture and pop culture references, and that if you aren’t aware of them, you are going to miss out on a lot of humor and casual conversation in the coming years. Like the author of that article, most “Harry Potter” jokes go over my head, as I never jumped on that bandwagon of nerdiness.

There are other gaps in my childhood experience that are probably not typical of people my age.

These are the ones I could rattle off the top of my head:

1. GI Joe (besides the “Knowing is half the battle” goodness, never saw the show, never had action figures.)
2. Professional Wrestling
3. Comic books (I actually tried this, and my mom bought me a mega pack of second rate titles from Costco when I was trying to get into them, but it never caught on with me).
4. Most Roald Dahl books never made it on my book list.
5. Judy Bloom and “Where the Wild Things Are” failed to do anything for me.
6. “Love you, forever” was never a message I was told.
7. Boxcar Children (more ignored due to perceived lameness than anything else)

I am sure there are loads more.

What was I into… these are the things I can remember:

1. Saved by the Bell
2. Wayside School is Falling Down
3. Sports galore (I was trying to figure out what kept me busy, and I spent probably 80% of my waking hours following or playing sports).
4. American Gladiators and GUTS (Nitro was crazy, but they all used to be crazy and not give a shit. Didn’t the first episodes, the judges wore executioner hoods? Way better than this latest version)
5. Brown Bear, Brown Bear: What Do You See? (This was like little kid hip hop, if read correctly)
6. TGIF (and all the shows it encompassed…even Perfect Stangers, Going Places and Hangin’ With Mr. Cooper…don’t forget the theme song to TGIF…”It’s Friday night, and the moon is right, come have some fun, show you how it’s done, T.G.I.F)..

This will blow your mind…

7. Baseball card (prized card, my 1989 Ken Griffey Jr. Upper Deck rookie card.)
8. Cookie Crisp (the commercials were awesome, the cereal even better)
9. Kid Cuisine frozen dinners.
10. Cartoon Express on USA Network. (Only caught the end of this, hence the “knowing is half the battle” knowledge, as it came on right before American Gladiators)

I am sure there is more here, too…but I will let you expand.

What do you remember from your childhood? What did you find in later years, you completly missed out on that everyone else feels is quintessential?

We’re Freakin’ Famous

Posted on February 15, 2008

In case you weren’t aware, we’re official. Read it and weep. With joy.

The name is Bond. Mr. Bond.

Posted on February 15, 2008

I’m now 23 years old, and I’ve just recently joined that magical world where everybody has a first name.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, ask any child his best friend’s dad’s name. It’s not “David,” it’s “Mr. Hasselhoff.” (Yes, that’s right, this particular hypothetical child is best friends with David Hasselhoff’s son.) But not me. When I call someone on the phone, I boldly ask “May I speak with Steve, please?” And I don’t even get a strange reply, just a prompt “Sure, one moment please.”

I work with all sorts of people of all ages and backgrounds, and am on a first name basis with all of them. I supervise many people old enough to be my parents, and some even old enough to be my grandparents, but when I walk the halls, I suavely call out “Hey Janie,” “How’s everything Tim,” “Looking good there, Ron.” I am the guy that, as a child, I never thought I’d grow up to be.

The funny thing is, there are some exceptions. My third grade teacher is still “Mrs. Wilder;” in fact I don’t even know her first name, and I wouldn’t dare call her it if I did. My childhood friend’s dad is still “Dr. Adamson;” the closest I’ve come to calling him by his first name is letting “Doc” slip once, and I felt ashamed for three days afterwards. It’s like when a professor tells you to call him “Chuck” after you just finished a semester of calling him “Mr. Norris.” (Yes, this hypothetical professor is none other than Chuck Norris, who, even in my fantasy world, no matter how many times he told me to call him Chuck, I would never drop the “Mr. Norris.” Here’s some reasons why.)

There’s something inherently difficult about going from one level to the next. It’s a graduation from authority figure to friend status, and it’s also a lingering mental block from the days of Lincoln Logs and action figures and Sega Genesis when the Mrs. Jones’s and Mr. Smith’s were the voices of reason, telling us “No roughhousing” or “Don’t throw water balloons in the house.”

I’d like to think I’ll get past this mental block, but truthfully, I don’t think it will happen. Even as the world changes and kids these days get less respectful of their elders, I don’t see my language changing. Heck, my parents still call some people older by their proper “Mr. Copper,” “Mrs. Zinc” names.

I guess what I’m saying is whether I’m 23 or 53, my world ain’t getting any more magical than this.

What sort of name hangups do you have?

The Moment of Truth

Posted on February 15, 2008

I really enjoy the television show “The Moment of Truth” (I hope I didn’t just lose readers by admitting this). I am not trying to give it credit for more than what it is. It’s trashy. I wouldn’t define it as good, but it is attention diverting (as I work on blog posts…).

For those who have not seen it, the show puts contestants through a lie detector test where they are asked a number of questions, probably based on a background story or history they provide to the show, the response and the lie detector results are recorded, and then on live television and in front of family and fronts, the person is asked some of the same questions. They answer the questions on the air, if their answer is confirm by the lie detector test taken earlier (which they don’t the results of), the contestant gets money. The more questions they answer truthfully, the more money the get, but also the more revealing/shocking/intimate the questions get.

Intrigued, you can watch the full episodes here.

Besides the exploitation (which is super interesting!), the show touches upon a lot of human traits that are also interesting. Obviously, there is the idea of skeletons in one’s closet. That is sort of what the show banks on for its contestants. I admire the people, though, because they bring them to the forefront. In a way, in just as much as it is invasive, it must also be very liberating. I know I have skeletons that I don’t admit, too, and I don’t know what it would take to get me to.

Which leads to the other neat human trait the show plays on, greed. Like most game shows, this is what drives the contestants motivations. Reality shows, if nothing else, are great at exposing what people, rather the right kind of person, will do for some amount of money. The same is true here.

What value do you put on your personal secrets? What price tag would it take to reveal them?

In a perfect world, this show would just be giving money away. These things are the truth, one way or another. They are who you are, they are what you have done, why shouldn’t they be known.

But, society doesn’t work like that. We don’t work like that. Relationships are maintained because of things that aren’t known. I love a quote from the underrated Nicolas Cage movie, Lord of War, that goes “Some of the most successful relationships are based on lies and deceit. Since that’s where they usually end up anyway, it’s a logical place to start.” I am not sure if that is totally applicable here, but it gives me a chance, if nothing else, to plug a movie that I don’t think enough people have seen.

Regardless of the show’s merit, its entertainment value, its sleeze factor, it did get me thinking. Which is a lot more than a lot of stuff on TV, so the whole thing can’t be bad…

A Romantic Notion

Posted on February 14, 2008

I have a secret crush.

My downstairs neighbor plays the best music at such late hours of the night! He cranks it up at 2am and through my carpeted floor I hear The Arcade Fire, Bright Eyes, Broken Social Scene and sometimes Death Cab for Cutie pounding away as I sleep.

To be sure it was my downstairs suitor and I was not being misled by some kind of illusional acoustic reverberation coming from the punks down the hall, I got out of bed and held my ear to the floor. This is what I heard:

“You may feel alone when you’re falling asleep, and every time tears roll down your cheeks, but I know your heart belongs to someone you’ve yet to meet, someday you will be loved.”

I blushed. He totally has a crush on me! I have the sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with my tap dancing/accordion playing. He may just be my Lloyd Dobler.

So this Valentine’s Day, if you by chance get a bag of candy taped to your door with a note proclaiming my love for your love of music, it may just be from your friendly upstairs neighbor.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

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The exciting valentines conclusion!

Posted on February 13, 2008June 6, 2026


Enjoy our last set of valentines at http://www.misusingbigwords.com/. If you missed any of the other sets, they can be found here: Set 1, Set 2, and Set 3.

NOTE: This sheet is our most explicit. Viewer discretion is advised.

Don’t forget, you can find all of our valentines on our new ecards site. Find out more. Then go check out www.misusingecards.com.

Rock out with your cock out… Jam out with your clam out…

Posted on February 12, 2008

That might be an exaggeration, but not by much. I’ll be the first to admit that inside of a car, I do some pretty ridiculous stuff. I dig in my nose (and dispense the remnants underneath my seat…which reminds me, is anyone in the market for a slightly used 2006 Nissan Sentra…I promise to vacuum prior to the final sale transaction…only kidding), I change clothes on occasion, I sing like the world has gone silent and all of civilization depends on my voice as the last remaining sound messiah (which is not to say that I am any good, most who have shared a karaoke room/bar with me would beg the opposite). Let’s not even get into the more explicit activities that can be undertook…

Inside of my car, I feel invincible, or is it invisible, maybe it’s both. My 35%-visibility tinted windows (the most allowed on small sedans in the good state of Hawaii) only add to the illusion. But, that is all it is, an illusion. I forget this, often, only to be reminded by the big Samoan guys sitting in the back of a pick-up truck staring at me in bumper-to-bumper traffic as a jam to “Bubbly” by Colbie Caillate. (It starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose… I love that. Really.) I quickly pretend that I was talking on the phone.

I suppose since I continue to do the things that I do in my car I don’t really care. I mean, you don’t know the people in traffic around you, nor will you likely see them again. What’s the harm…

The past few days, though, I have been spotting various coworkers in their cars at various points of my trip. It is only a matter of time before one of them spots me.

What do you do in your car that you probably would be ashamed of if people you knew saw you doing it?

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