Occasionally I ask the people of Twitter to supply me with a blog post topic suggestion, but rarely does anyone actually give me an idea. But today, a tweeter asked, "What do you do when you keep losing one sock? It could be a metaphor."
My immediate response was: "You thank the Lord that you didn't lose both socks."
But I soon realized three major problems with my response. One, I didn't actually suggest any solutions for solving the problem. I basically recommended putting masking tape over a crack in a windshield. Two, I was insensitive. When you keep losing something you invested in (i.e. socks cost money and require brain power to purchase from Walmart), a snarky response just isn't what the doctor ordered. Three, I ignored the very important fact that it's a strong possibility that in many cases, she does lose both socks. Because one sock is not there to remind her that she lost the other one—yes, you are so smart; both socks are gone—she has probably lost multiple sets of socks without even realizing it.
If you have one sock, you can properly mourn the loss of the other. If you're particularly audacious, you can accept the disappearance of the left sock as permanent and use the right sock to clean the mysterious grey fuzz off your space heater. If both socks are missing, you probably won't even realize it. This begs the question: how many sets of socks have YOU lost? You will likely never know unless you find them again.
Other clothes don't just disappear. Yes, occasionally a rebellious sweater will vanish when you really wanted to wear it, but such frustration is probably your fault: you are the idiot who threw it in the laundry and never washed it. See, socks are what disappear. Socks. It's always the socks. And you know what we blame? The dryer. I've got news for you: it's not the dryer. You need to stop blaming it and accept the truth:
Your socks just don't like you.
Surprised? I was, too, when I finally realized it. They're just tired of dealing with your stinky, unwashed feet. They're tired of being walked on. They're tired of being unappreciated. Your socks hate you. The dryer doesn't "eat" them. Your socks run away. Most socks are pretty stupid, which is why usually only one escapes. The really smart ones escape in pairs, never to be seen again. The more brilliant ones make you forget you had them in the first place.
Doesn't it make you sad to think that you probably can't remember the best pair of socks you ever owned? Just don't let the people in your life be like socks.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Monday, January 26, 2015
Real Life vs. The Movies: Let's be Honest
In the movie Galaxy Quest, a group of aliens watch movies and television shows produced on Earth. The aliens believe that all of the films are true and depict the history of Earth. They also take the films literally and assume that is how things actually work on the planet. Sounds silly, right? Not really. We do the same thing. We watch movies and expect our lives to follow suit. Life isn't like the movies. I'd just like to clear that up. Check out these 5 important differences between movies and real life.
1. Moving spontaneously to a new town.
The movies: You randomly decide to leave everything one day and drive 14 hours away to another town, probably somewhere near the shore in South Carolina. Within hours of your arrival, you get a fully-furnished apartment and purchase a rottweiler to help protect you from the axe murderer who is inevitably stalking you (maybe this is a Lifetime movie?). Then you show up to the nearest establishment and remove the "HELP WANTED" sign from the door. You show it to the manager and earn a job within five minutes.
Real life: You debate about moving for 7 years. It takes you 8 months to find a suitable apartment and four trips with your punch buggy to bring down all of your stuff. The first thing you do is sign up for a new library card.
2. Going to a new school.
The movies: Someone trips you as you get on the bus, and you have to sit by yourself. You stare at the passing farmland, rueing the day your mother sent you to Kansas to live with your Aunt Mildred. Dramatic music plays. Once you get to school, an overly exuberant yearbook staffer offers to help you find your first class. Inevitably, she tells you that you have the same History 101 class. During your first class, the teacher introduces you, and three people in the room decide to hate you for no reason. When you get out of class, you bump into the same person who tripped you on the bus, and you drop 14 books all over the hallway. Because who uses back packs anymore. Then this really hot guy helps you pick up all your stuff, but he has to run to class before you learn his name.
Real life: You drive yourself to school. The building smells like formaldehyde, but you figure you'll get used to the smell of whatever cleaning solution they use on the floors, walls, and windows here, just like you did at your old school. The person at the office helps you find your first class, and you pull the strings of your hoodie as tight as you can so that only your nose is showing. The teacher doesn't introduce you to the class because teachers don't actually do that. You use a back pack because that's what people do. You make it through the whole year without getting shoved into a locker, becoming the enemy of the lead cheerleader, or making a speech about how wrong you were about everything in front of the entire school.
3. Running from the police.
The movies: You have time to stop every so often to purchase a new slick outfit, usually involving leather and cool sunglasses. You use the closing draw-bridge like a ski jump to propel your car onto the opposite road before the police catch you. You're with Nicolas Cage. When you total your first car, you get out, unharmed, and immediately steal a motorcycle.
Real life: You wonder if you'll ever have the luxury of deodorant again. You try not to actually drive too fast because pot holes. You're by yourself and actually just late to work.
4. Sneaking out of the house.
The movies: You got invited to this awesome party, but you're grounded. So you put on a disguise you happened to have in your closet. Then you toss a rope out the third-story window and climb down. Of course, your window doesn't have a screen. You show up at the party all fabulous and meet up with your friends. Before the night is over, you push your mortal enemy into the pool, get asked out on a date, and get home just before you have to leave for school the next day.
Real life: You lie on the floor of you room repeatedly tweeting at Taco Bell asking why they don't deliver.
5. Living in the woods by yourself because you're tired of real life.
The movies: After an upsetting life experience, you strike out on your own to live in the mountains. You build an impressive shelter out of a cave and weave a blanket out of pine needles. You start a fire with two sticks, just like you read about in your science book. You use some rocks to sharpen a stick and use it to catch fish in the river. A few days into your journey, you run into a bear that seems bent on your destruction. But really you have something to learn from it. While originally you planned to hunt and kill it and use its skins to make new clothes, you eventually come to respect each other during a final showdown during which you kill a wildebeest in front of the bear, and it decides to leave you alone out of respect. You live in the woods for two years and return a changed man.
Real life: You try camping in your backyard, but the extension cord for the microwave isn't long enough, and you really wanted Ramen noodles, so you give up and go back inside.
1. Moving spontaneously to a new town.
The movies: You randomly decide to leave everything one day and drive 14 hours away to another town, probably somewhere near the shore in South Carolina. Within hours of your arrival, you get a fully-furnished apartment and purchase a rottweiler to help protect you from the axe murderer who is inevitably stalking you (maybe this is a Lifetime movie?). Then you show up to the nearest establishment and remove the "HELP WANTED" sign from the door. You show it to the manager and earn a job within five minutes.
Real life: You debate about moving for 7 years. It takes you 8 months to find a suitable apartment and four trips with your punch buggy to bring down all of your stuff. The first thing you do is sign up for a new library card.
2. Going to a new school.
The movies: Someone trips you as you get on the bus, and you have to sit by yourself. You stare at the passing farmland, rueing the day your mother sent you to Kansas to live with your Aunt Mildred. Dramatic music plays. Once you get to school, an overly exuberant yearbook staffer offers to help you find your first class. Inevitably, she tells you that you have the same History 101 class. During your first class, the teacher introduces you, and three people in the room decide to hate you for no reason. When you get out of class, you bump into the same person who tripped you on the bus, and you drop 14 books all over the hallway. Because who uses back packs anymore. Then this really hot guy helps you pick up all your stuff, but he has to run to class before you learn his name.
Real life: You drive yourself to school. The building smells like formaldehyde, but you figure you'll get used to the smell of whatever cleaning solution they use on the floors, walls, and windows here, just like you did at your old school. The person at the office helps you find your first class, and you pull the strings of your hoodie as tight as you can so that only your nose is showing. The teacher doesn't introduce you to the class because teachers don't actually do that. You use a back pack because that's what people do. You make it through the whole year without getting shoved into a locker, becoming the enemy of the lead cheerleader, or making a speech about how wrong you were about everything in front of the entire school.
3. Running from the police.
The movies: You have time to stop every so often to purchase a new slick outfit, usually involving leather and cool sunglasses. You use the closing draw-bridge like a ski jump to propel your car onto the opposite road before the police catch you. You're with Nicolas Cage. When you total your first car, you get out, unharmed, and immediately steal a motorcycle.
Real life: You wonder if you'll ever have the luxury of deodorant again. You try not to actually drive too fast because pot holes. You're by yourself and actually just late to work.
4. Sneaking out of the house.
The movies: You got invited to this awesome party, but you're grounded. So you put on a disguise you happened to have in your closet. Then you toss a rope out the third-story window and climb down. Of course, your window doesn't have a screen. You show up at the party all fabulous and meet up with your friends. Before the night is over, you push your mortal enemy into the pool, get asked out on a date, and get home just before you have to leave for school the next day.
Real life: You lie on the floor of you room repeatedly tweeting at Taco Bell asking why they don't deliver.
5. Living in the woods by yourself because you're tired of real life.
The movies: After an upsetting life experience, you strike out on your own to live in the mountains. You build an impressive shelter out of a cave and weave a blanket out of pine needles. You start a fire with two sticks, just like you read about in your science book. You use some rocks to sharpen a stick and use it to catch fish in the river. A few days into your journey, you run into a bear that seems bent on your destruction. But really you have something to learn from it. While originally you planned to hunt and kill it and use its skins to make new clothes, you eventually come to respect each other during a final showdown during which you kill a wildebeest in front of the bear, and it decides to leave you alone out of respect. You live in the woods for two years and return a changed man.
Real life: You try camping in your backyard, but the extension cord for the microwave isn't long enough, and you really wanted Ramen noodles, so you give up and go back inside.
Friday, January 16, 2015
How to Get Out of Any Conversation
There is no escape. You're standing in a crowd of fantastically interesting people at the sickest party of the year. This could have been the best night ever, but you've only been here for 12 minutes, and it happened already. Peabody Snodgrass, the most obnoxious blowhard on the face of the earth, has spotted you and is currently weaving through the crowd toward you so he can spew infuriatingly off-base political opinions at you for the next 45 minutes. If you're lucky. At the Christmas potluck last year, Miss Ginny was stuck talking to him for an hour and a half because he started ranting about 9/11 conspiracy theories, one of which involved the claim that Harry Potter is a real person. Rumor has it Miss Ginny has been going to therapy for eight months.
This doesn't have to happen to you. If you just knew how to excuse yourself from these unwanted conversations, you wouldn't have such disappointing party experiences. Use any of these tips, and you'll never have to deal with Peabody Snodgrass ever again. Get out of any conversation. Guaranteed.
1. Transform yourself into a walrus. This is very effective because most people would be very afraid of a large tusked mammal, especially if it looks angry. Even if your Mr. Snodgrass is one of the 1.2% of the population who is not, in fact, terrified of walri, he will likely be so surprised that you became one that he will run away shrieking—which is exactly what you want. If you don't get immediate results, try lunging toward his ankles. Works every time.
2. Ask about his toenails. You need to be in control of the conversation. The best way to end it before it starts is to ask your Mr. Snodgrass how his toenail fungus is doing. Ask, but don't wait for a response. Move right along to: "You know, you wouldn't suffer from all of these fungus problems if you just clipped your toenails more than biennially. I've also heard it burns calories."
3. Hide under a table. This works especially well if he hasn't seen you yet. But even if he has, it can still work. Just dive under any table with an adequate table cloth, cover your head with your arms, and refuse to respond to any questions he might bellow down to you. Once he is gone and you want to rejoin the party, someone might see you emerge from beneath the table and ask what you were doing. Remove the Egyptian mummified rat—that you stowed in your pocket before the party—and tell the other party attendee that you were geocaching. Just yell, "FOUND IT!" They'll get it. I promise.
4. Ask him if he wants to play the "quite game." First explain the rules. Whoever remains silent for the longest wins the game! Tell him you're going to "count down to quiet." Then begin counting down from 10. Once you get to 1, discreetly bash him over the head with a crow bar.
5. Excuse yourself politely. In other words, jump onto a chair, remove your sword from its scabbard, and yell, "You will always remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" Then jump down and run across the room. Run fast enough so that he cannot follow you.
So there you have it. If you have recently witnessed people transforming into walri, diving under tables, or imitating half-drunk pirates, you are Mr. Snodgrass. (P.S., Don't actually try number 4. I've heard that individuals of a certain disposition might find it offensive.)
This doesn't have to happen to you. If you just knew how to excuse yourself from these unwanted conversations, you wouldn't have such disappointing party experiences. Use any of these tips, and you'll never have to deal with Peabody Snodgrass ever again. Get out of any conversation. Guaranteed.
1. Transform yourself into a walrus. This is very effective because most people would be very afraid of a large tusked mammal, especially if it looks angry. Even if your Mr. Snodgrass is one of the 1.2% of the population who is not, in fact, terrified of walri, he will likely be so surprised that you became one that he will run away shrieking—which is exactly what you want. If you don't get immediate results, try lunging toward his ankles. Works every time.
2. Ask about his toenails. You need to be in control of the conversation. The best way to end it before it starts is to ask your Mr. Snodgrass how his toenail fungus is doing. Ask, but don't wait for a response. Move right along to: "You know, you wouldn't suffer from all of these fungus problems if you just clipped your toenails more than biennially. I've also heard it burns calories."
3. Hide under a table. This works especially well if he hasn't seen you yet. But even if he has, it can still work. Just dive under any table with an adequate table cloth, cover your head with your arms, and refuse to respond to any questions he might bellow down to you. Once he is gone and you want to rejoin the party, someone might see you emerge from beneath the table and ask what you were doing. Remove the Egyptian mummified rat—that you stowed in your pocket before the party—and tell the other party attendee that you were geocaching. Just yell, "FOUND IT!" They'll get it. I promise.
4. Ask him if he wants to play the "quite game." First explain the rules. Whoever remains silent for the longest wins the game! Tell him you're going to "count down to quiet." Then begin counting down from 10. Once you get to 1, discreetly bash him over the head with a crow bar.
5. Excuse yourself politely. In other words, jump onto a chair, remove your sword from its scabbard, and yell, "You will always remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" Then jump down and run across the room. Run fast enough so that he cannot follow you.
So there you have it. If you have recently witnessed people transforming into walri, diving under tables, or imitating half-drunk pirates, you are Mr. Snodgrass. (P.S., Don't actually try number 4. I've heard that individuals of a certain disposition might find it offensive.)
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