I went to a party on Friday and managed to keep alive my streak of being the most immature person in the room – this was challenging given that I had at least a 15 year life experience advantage on the average attendee. I am still hung over a solid 48 hours later. Just maybe, like a cop on the verge of retirement faced with his most personal and challenging (yet potentially life-affirming) case, I’m getting too old for this shit. But in the course of this social gathering, I did recognize my own shortcomings as a conversationalist (and/or normal person). In my constant quest for complete self awareness, I noted that I am only capable of discussing a vary narrow list of topics.
Stuff I Can Have a Conversation About (In Order of Occurrence):
1. The Mets suck, motherfucker! (I run into lots of Mets fans)
2. Have you seen The Wire?
3. I fucking hate the Mets, man, boy do they suck!
4. Would you care to hear some gambling stories?
5. I mean, they fucking really fucking suck, dood, seriously the fucking Mets fucking stink. I’m a Braves fan, man, so glad the fucking sorry-assed Mets took Francoeur’s sorry ass.
6. My favorite character on The Wire is probably Bunk. Or Carver. Did you see that one where Bunk set his clothes on fire when he had a one night stand? That was awesome.
That’s basically it. This certainly will not stand. I used to be something of a bon vivant, capable of thoughtful discourse on any number of topics, including religion, politics, wine, food, sport, the theatre. You name it, my bizarre yet versatile educational/vocational background allowed me to nimbly navigate the social strata. Okay, none of that shit was true, but I certainly had a broader repertoire than “Mets suck/Wire rules” – I’ve seen comments on cracked.com that are more substantive than my current social set pieces. One great thing about being so fucking self aware is it provides you with a list of things to improve on (or to ignore and allow to fester and become debilitating).
To improve my social capabilities, I vow to spend some time on the following:
1. Broaden viewing of topical television shows that I missed: I will rent The O.C. and Gilmore Girls DVDs so I’m in better touch with the youth of today. I want to know the story behind those sweet “Free Marissa Cooper” tee shirts.
2. Become more well-read: I will pay particular attention to the the copies of Us Weekly and OK! that are lying around the apartment; all that SmartMoney reading has increased neither my level of smart nor my level of money.
3. Pay more attention to the channels further down the channel guide: After experiencing the particular genius of Ninja Warrior, and learning it’s been going on for years, I initially felt like a pop cultural failure. I will not let the post-channel-30 locations of the G4s, FitTVs, Fuses, C-SPAN-3s, etc. scare me away from potentially excellent, and socially relevent, programming any longer. (Hopefully there are also more ninja-focused shows out there.)
4. Hang around the liquor store to see what’s new in the world of alcohol: Did you know there’s a new vodka that tastes like fucking sweet tea? Seriously, Firefly vodka. It tastes like fucking sweet tea. Read that again – and it’s still 35% hooch. Throw some lemonade in that bitch and you are set with an alcoholic Arnold Palmer. (Thanks, ‘Pril) I have spent considerable time and energy working on a chili verde burrito-flavored vodka, with little success thus far. This tea-flavored ‘ka is an evolutionary step up the “alcohol that tastes like something else that is delicious but will still get you drunk” ladder.
5. See more movies: I need to go see that Bruno – no one captures the cultural zeitgeist like Mr. Baron Cohen with his guerrilla performance art pieces. I’ve gotta get on board with the hilarious catch phrases. “I’m Bruno!” Haha, that’s hilarious in and of itself.
6. Experience different foods: In that vein, I will today try the Bacon Cheesy Potato Burrito at T-Bell. I have never tried any of the “bacon” products at The Bell, and for good reason: their other products are already fucking fantastic. And really the only bacon I need I get on the Atlantis Club at Murray’s Deli. But I’m ready to take this drastic gastronomic step in my quest for self improvement. I will probably also get a Volcano Burrito, too. That sounds pretty good.
We’ll see how this goes.
(Editor’s Note #1: I’m still kicking myself for omitting my couplet “sat down for some online poker, yo, messed around and won a $50 sit n go” from “Wednesday Was A Good Day.” Dammit.)
(Editor’s Note #2: You may wonder why there are like 100 pictures of girls in swimsuits today. Good question. Given that my traffic has increased 17,000% since the debut of Megan Fox in a swimsuit, I’ve realized that it’s not the hours of painstakingly crafted content that will help this place grow. It’s nubile young ladies in swimsuits. The inner artist sheds a tear. Apologies to the four females that read this site (SO, Railbird, Mom, maybe Mrs. C-Note) but at least I’m providing some good swimsuit ideas.)
(Editor’s Note #3: Tomorrow I’m coming back to my crappy jobs list, but I’ve gotten to that point where they aren’t that crappy. So don’t be alarmed if the title is modified slightly, it’s not an entirely new list.)