moar fish, metaharmony, and other internet dating sites

this is ancient history now, but over over the summer i occasionally shared rides back to barrie with a 28 year old woman named Meaghan. she had started dating a guy through an internet dating site and i was very curious about the whole process. you browse photos and a one sentence blurb or something along those lines and then the site allows you further access to information that person has provided. there's intermediary steps like asking 10 questions and so forth until, eventually, you can start chatting.

what a fascinating way to skip the whole process of conversation. i'm not sure if that's a positive thing, but it seems like finding out someone is a radical christian right off the bat instead of after four dates is a great way to save time. religion is probably too obvious a point; anytime you can find out crucial information about someone that might turn you off immediately, without having to spend a lot of time with that person to get to that information, i say you do it.

that leads into another line of thought..

what would those profiles look like for college students. this isn't me, but here's what i envision.

male, 22, 6'2, brown hair (accompanied by photo). ((ok, i lied, physically that's me, but the rest will deviate))

hobbies: beer pong, the gym, call of duty, kraft dinner making, chirping, wheeling, drinking excessively.

reading that, i can't help but pity girls. i'm not saying the opposite profile would be any better, but that just sounds like the most uninteresting guy of all time. strangely, those guys have girlfriends.. i guess standards aren't what they used to be. or, society isn't what it used to be.

in summation, get a life people, or your "resume" will look like shit.

animal taming and other folly

doubt is a powerful beast. but, know that you are strong enough to best it. wrestle with it if you must, but ensure that you emerge the victor.

(play this music while you repeat the above mantra to yourself, http://www.maddecent.com/blog/blood-bros-first-blood)

~

for halloween i'm in discussions to represent a group of seventies disco singers called "The Whispers;" notorious for their smash hit "And the Beat Goes On" and even more notorious for moving my butt, the whispers dress like they should, have impressive facial hair, and enough dance moves (i think i saw a precursor to the robot) to satisfy all your desires.

now, i've been working on this dance, and i'm pretty sure i have it down so far. a bunch of back heel crossovers, a dip here or there, some shimmy shakin', sassily placing one hand on the hip and so on. ain't nothin'.

~

the quandary with the aforementioned solution to doubt is that sometimes in life we don't know exactly what we're doing. like when you slip notes into the lockers of girls you don't even really know. you can doubt those things all you want, but it's more fun to just go along for the ride. things always turn out well in the end; they might go really shitty for a while, but that's often easy to change.

~

i remember dave, i think, telling me about how if babies are born with extra fingers the doctors will tie a string around it and tighten it off. or something. anyway, that's what i'm going with. for whatever reason that really struck me as bizarre, so i tried to write a song about it. in this case it's from the perspective of a man talking to that finger, and explaining what's been going on since it "tied off." i'm kinda writing from a jack whitean style, but perhaps with not the same mythology. the song structure is like a good acoustic rock ramble. again, sharing blood with jack white, that is to say "in the vein of" the white stripes.

little string finger, when you tied off

well we left you there to poke around for truth,

from that fickle, thin singer hollering abuse,

sitting lonely on a stool,

but everyone in the room had taken to fighting,

so he poured them all a glass of champagne,

her whisper crackled in his ear like lightning,

but he caught her smirk in the windowpane.

little string finger, since you tied off

well i got a little long in the tooth,

and my wrinkled wings tremble at the thought

of flying up to whisper to the moon.

everything i thought i knew i have forgotten,

you never would have listened anyway,

all the apple trees begin to rot and

so you left without saying

goodbye

well, i just wrote the last verse now, so i have to go back and change the song tomorrow, the ending will be a little different now. i do so love a good ending, maybe some harmonized goodbye singin'. yee haw. nah, i do that too often. i'll find something else tomorrow.

weaksauce brosauce

i don't really know if i have ever encountered so much bro at once. brotal broverload. my head is spinning right now. i feel like the only things i can say to express myself are "you're fuckin dust," "KOBE," and so forth. mostly though, i'm just hungry. if some total stranger strolled through the front door and whipped up a grilled cheese, I would not even question who they were.

a well lit corner

that was TOTALLY unnecessary for you to make me dream about, subconscious. damn you.

in dreams, houses have all the tiny perfect spaces they really should have. places where the light glows orange and pink around bricks. places where you have to squint, or cover one eye to make out her face. places where, despite there being no windows in the brick, people inside the house can see you kiss? wtf. now you made it weird subconscious, why is that guy inside watching? why did he tell me i should go to the front yard to move an xbox so it doesn't get stolen? I'M FRIGGIN BUSY! damnit, now i'm not kissing anymore. dream effectively ruined, or at least spoiled. it's ok, that chick wouldn't kiss me regardless.

thinking in tongues

the longest day of school has passed. 8 to 8. after a while, the brain seemed to slide into cruise control. the pilot didn't have his feet up though, it was as though i was trying to make sure my non-existent copilot thought i was still awake. he would not have been convinced.

this weekend is crucial. i need to take advantage of the time to get everything in order, start some projects, send some emails, have some me time.

wake at 8, put on suit, tighten tie, eat oatmeal, get on bus, hi to secretary, turn on screen, type till noon, lunch till 1, meetings at 3, home by 6, turn on stove, put on trackers, consume food, brush teeth, wash face, moisturize, write, sleep.

~

everyone's very caught up in relationship issues. i don't think i've ever been less worried about those issues. just cruisin'. on big wheels? hahaha. you know, just riding down the street on those old big wheel tricycles. chain swangin' low.

followers

dear followers,

you are both seemingly literate.

i cannot claim as much.

you may have noticed that i disregard capitalization always, grammar sometimes, and common sense sometimes if not always.

please, do not be angry.

i'm no retard.

it's just a blog, so i don't tend to put as much effort into those things as i would for Principles and Practice of Rhetoric, for example.

on a lighter note, welcome!

i feel like a loser for writing something specifically because i now know that two people might occasionally read something here.

note to self, censor all further postings.

wtf

a salmon bone comb is the ultimate status symbol. easily fashioned, this luxury grooming tool consists of ultra fine salmon bones taken from a fine fish and held together through bone fusion.

doctor: "bone fusion, it's a simple procedure gentlemen... i guarantee it is both sanitary and satisfactory."

~

in the future our children will laugh at us for combing our beards. "fools," they will say, "the internet combs our beards now." further into the future, the internet will BE our beards. software updates will trim and style facial hair for us. Kyle's beard is the internet for now.

~

sherms. the female hermaphrodite. typically, this individual retains both sets of genitalia, but has chosen to self-identify as a female. Jesus was the original sherm. I am a sherm (shamefully intoned). if you seek a sherm (f-u-c-k sherm), they can be found in the seedy gooch of your city. the underworld, that is to say.