Mustache of the Day - Year 2 Day 19

This is the finger mustache.  Classy.

Also, it really has been a while since I posted anything of significance on this blog.  I’m not feeling incredibly jovial today, as I said goodbye to my little brother for two years.  He will be moving to Tampa, Florida to be a missionary for our church.

I’m excited and nervous for him at the same time.  I’ve been in a similar position, as I served a two year mission nearly 4 years ago in Santiago, Chile.  Saying goodbye is never easy, but I know that where he’s going he will learn to be a man and change people’s lives.

OK! Now that I’m done with that, I can stop being a downer, I can move on and share a story that I meant to write about weeks ago.

I hate being scared.  Really. I absolutely despise it.  I have a very vivid imagination which tends to get me into trouble in the scary type situations.  The body thrashes, and the voice squeals and people either get freaked out, annoyed or hit in the face. This is one of the main reasons I don’t like to walk alone at night or go camping… I invent monsters and crazy rapists who want to attack me in the night at the turn of every corner.

Naturally, with my fear of fear (is there even such a thing?) I’m not a huge fan of the frivolities that come along with Halloween.  I don’t mind dressing up, or eating candy.  Bobbing for apples is fine by me.  But, horror movies? I think I’ll pass.  And haunted houses?  I’d rather have a colonoscopy.  I hate being scared so much, in fact, that I’ve managed to avoid these things for my entire life.  I’m 24-years-old and have never seen a horror movie (besides Snow White… that Wicked Witch is scary) or been through a haunted house-that is, until a few weeks ago.

I consider myself to be a fairly stubborn and headstrong fellow, but I’m consistently amazed at how little effort it requires for a beautiful girl to convince me to do… well…. anything.  The last week of October was just such a circumstance.  My roommate and I were spending the evening with two wonderful young ladies when someone had the bright idea of going to the local ‘Scream Asylum.’

Naturally, I resisted the idea.  They persisted, and it took all of 2 minutes to convince me to grow a backbone and just do it.

One hour later, I had on a pair of wet pants, a hoarse voice and 3 friends with sore stomachs from laughing at my uncharacteristically foul language screamed at an incomprehensible high pitch.  As Jeff would say, I scream like a sissy-face-la-la-pants-bed-wetter.

There was one particular portion of this terrible, terrible place that really sent me over the top.  After passing by a semi-retarded clown in a wheelchair and a cheesy zombie with a chainsaw, we entered into a room filled with dismembered body parts hanging from the ceiling.  As we waded through the sea of limbs and torsos, squinting through the strobe light, my roommate stopped.

“Dude! Go!” I yelled with anxiety in my voice.  It was far too quiet, and eerie swinging limbs were everywhere.

“Just a sec,” he said without moving a muscle.

And that’s when I heard it.  It was quiet at first… until it got closer.

“Sooooo quiet.  Soooooooooo quiet,” rasped the voice.

I turned and saw a decapitated, bloodied corpse stammering towards me.  This is what I did (you really need to click that link to fully understand the situation), followed by a few expletives and a dead arm to my roommate.

I hated that haunted house.  But you know what? I’d do it all over again if she asked me to.  Man, I’m a sucker.

6 comments.

Soggy Shoulders Empty Arms Syndrome (SSEAS)

I’m a firm believer in the existence of Soggy Shoulders Empty Arms Syndrome (SSEAS).  This very serious disease is predicated upon the fact that many nice guys find themselves consistently thrust into the friend zone by women they could very easily have a romantic interest in.  These girls then proceed to use the now helpless man-friend as a self esteem trampoline.  They only come for a visit when they’re down and need a boost.

Normally the conversation starts off with a line like, “ARGH! Why are guys so dumb/such jerks/so confusing?”  Other times, we just skip right to the tears.  One way or another, though, the tears will come come… it’s just a matter of time.

Mr. Nice Guy is then permitted to put his arm around Ms. ‘Just Friends’, as he comforts her while carefully reinstating her self worth and confidence.  Most times he reassures her of how great and beautiful she is, and how most guys don’t deserve a girl like her.  He encourages her to go for someone who would treat her right (like, you know, someone who would put his arm around her when she’s not doing well to dry her tears, carefully reinstating her self worth and confidence…) like she deserves.

Ninety percent of the time, she leaves with a smile, dry eyes and is back with her craptastic ex-boyfriend within days… and she’s “happy as ever,” thus leaving Mr. Nice Guy with soggy shoulders and empty arms… and that’s where the name comes from, in case you hadn’t figured it out yet.

Does anyone else see a problem with this?

This hasn’t happened to me recently, but I am a firm believer that it’s very common for women to talk about what they ‘want’ in a man while simultaneously not giving that type a man a snowball’s chance in hell at dating them.

Guys get a lot of flack for being shallow and superficial when many girls are just as shallow and superficial… or even more so. It’s sad… and quite ironic. What ever happened to the real love where people recognized the good in each other and try to foster qualities that endure the test of time?

I think this quote sums it up pretty well: “All she wants is your money, and all you want is her body. What has love become?”

-Bags, sympathiser of the ‘old school’ love.

10 comments.

Seriously, Am I A Creeper?

I want to clarify that I am in no way a woman hater. I do, in fact, love women. I think that they possess qualities and attributes that far surpass those that men are capable of fostering… ever… in the history of the universe. Qualities like empathy and love and tolerance. It’s events like that of yesterday, however, that make me question my lifelong respect for the possessors of the double X Chromosome.

I got shot down for a blind date last night by a girl with whom I only spoke with for no more than one minute. Her roommate and my roommate are friends, and after our meeting suggested to the both of us that we go on a date.

Personally, I was all for it. She seemed nice. She also laughed, which means she had a personality and was not likely to be one of those bitter, man-hater BYU girls who gripe about every man under the sun who doesn’t give them a second glance (which is probably also every man under the sun) to their beastly, mannish, man-hating roommates… and she was cute.

However, I apparently did not live up to her standards. When asked if she’d be interested in a date - and mind you, this is one date - she told her roommate, “He seems like a guy that would be fun to hang out with, but I don’t think I could ever date someone like that.”

Classy.

I didn’t realize people that weren’t named God could cast judgment so quickly.

I wonder if it was the facial hair… Man, I should totally try out for the Rejection Olympics.

2 comments.