The Giraffe Effect (part 4 of 4)
Feb 11, 2010
For me, the belief in some power greater than ourselves is very necessary in getting through the struggles of daily life. We all know that laughter is the best healer. And honestly, none of our kids would be here if we all didn’t have a pretty sizeable interest in sex. Do we agree so far? Ok. So at least we sort of, kinda, mostly agree to this. That’s a start.
But you just have to admit, it’s a tad bit extreme to change gears so quickly within the same browser.
So for all you guys (like me) that love the female body… for goodness sake, send ‘em on! The more the merrier.
But let’s decide now if our email relationship is gonna be Biblical or booblical. I just don’t know if I can handle both. I get more confused than a pre-pubescent gaylord in gym class. It kinda makes me feel like I’m keeping secrets from The Big Guy upstairs. I know he knows, but lets not advertise.
Now, for the record, I have no interest in seeing who just signed up on Classmates.com. I’m not putting all my family pics on Flikr. I don’t do MySpace because I’m over the age of 12 and I’m not a perv. I do use facebook though. I like facebook. It’s right about “my speed.” But that doesn’t mean I want to add crops on Farmville. And lay off the Gangsta Wars or whatever it’s called. I’m also not interested in all the virtual drinks and quizzes. Besides, I really doubt that the prom queen from high school really has anything in common with Angelina Jolie anyway.
Come on… I'm perfectly capable of wasting my own time.
I do happen to like the birthday reminder on facebook quite a bit though. Probably because I am a firm believer that most people don’t call and tell you "happy birthday" because of that awkward silence or those meaningless minutes of conversation that always follow the actual statement of “happy birthday.” It's just too uncomfortable. For both sides. They don’t want to catch up on old times (neither do you) or to hear about all the local drama going on in your life, they just want to acknowledge the day for you. (Actually for them.) More accurately, they want you to know that they did it for you, but it's actually for them.
Here's how to tell. Try this the next time someone calls to tell you “happy birthday” or “happy anniversary” or whatever, take note of how many times you smile and nod while you’re on the phone. You will actually be smiling and nodding and they can’t even see you. It’s all fake. Then notice the awkward pauses. There will be at least two. Also, take note of how many times you say “yeeeees, yes, uh huh, yes.” Then there’s the more than awkward experience of getting off the phone without hurting Aunt Hilda’s feelings. She called from Minnesota for goodness sake. After all, you only talk to her once a year (or two), you owe it to her. Right? Forget about being late for work or burning dinner. Spend some time on the phone. Do it for her. Right? (Wrong.)
Does anyone else believe that birthday wishes give more satisfaction to the giver than the receiver??? Think about it. Most of the conversation (from both sides) is spoken in a way that's not to hurt the other person’s feelings. It’s a remarkable phenomenon. We all do it.
That’s why I think eCards are very under rated. Their motto should be “When you almost care enough to type the very least!” Hallmark, eat your heart out.
Here’s where I smile and nod.
Just sayin’…
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Giraffe Effect (part 3 of 4)
The Giraffe Effect (part 3 of 4)
Feb 11, 2010
Here's the way I figure it must have happened. Some point along the way, I must have said “bless you” after someone sneezed in public. Then they told somebody I was deeply religious. That person must have advertised the depth of my Christian values because almost daily, I receive prayer emails. I get a veritable plethora of Bible referenced passages and online documentation of how my soul will be saved only if I forward this message to at least 10 people.
You must admit that those emails are kind of weird. I have a hard time believing that Big Daddy up There has a T1 connection. I just don’t feel a need to bcc God. Sorry.
Let’s make matters a little worse. Apparently (no, obviously), at some point(s), I've had a positive reaction in front of other people involving a woman’s bare breast or the appealing nature of her body (sneaking a peak), because almost daily I receive nudie pictures in my inbox. And it’s not generally the classy WW2 calendar girl type either. It’s more of a Dom Perignon slash Louisville Slugger kind of gal-asaurus. Most are jokes. Usually, they involve a play on words. Some have wording about a camel’s foot and after scrolling to the bottom it reveals a close up pic of a woman’s private area in some really tight jogging pants or something. You get the idea.
Sometimes it’s a weight joke about how the female Rothlisberger fans must be large women compared to Romo fans in order for all the letters of his name to fit on the back side of their panties. Or how Ray Charles could go to California following the roadmap on those spider veins. You get the idea.
And I’m sure we’ve all seen Bob and the “little blue pill” jokes about the man at the doctor’s office asking about male enhancement.
That’s all well and good. Most of it is quite entertaining in an “I sure do hope nobody’s looking” kind of way.
However, the part out of all of this that blows my mind is when the same person sends me both religious emails and dirty jokes/porn. For example, I will get an email quoting the Bible and within minutes I’m getting another email from that same person showing me the up close and personals of a hairy broad that looks mostly like a cross between J. Edgar Hoover and Ernest Borgnine. I know for a fact that I’ve never had a conversation about church and ugly girls with big naturals. So what makes it ok in email? And what makes it ok, especially since we’ve only recently met. I’m just asking.
Please keep in mind… none of this offends me at all. That’s not the point. Again, I’m no prude. I just think it’s odd. What naughty school girls do during Spring Break when they are a thousand miles away from momma and daddy is their own business. I'm just paying for cable. I'm not making the movie.
So that’s not what I’m getting to at all. In fact, I think it’s hilarious. But unfortunately, I’m not laughing at the emails I get. (And I get a ton.) I’m laughing at the sender.
Think about it. I’m picturing the guy on the other end of the interwebs saying to himself “I know who’s going to have to see this!” And that person that's got to see it turns out to be me. Very strange that I always come to mind in this situation. Maybe it's some sort of oddball, weird, 21st century, single guy compliment.
(to be concluded…)
Feb 11, 2010
Here's the way I figure it must have happened. Some point along the way, I must have said “bless you” after someone sneezed in public. Then they told somebody I was deeply religious. That person must have advertised the depth of my Christian values because almost daily, I receive prayer emails. I get a veritable plethora of Bible referenced passages and online documentation of how my soul will be saved only if I forward this message to at least 10 people.
You must admit that those emails are kind of weird. I have a hard time believing that Big Daddy up There has a T1 connection. I just don’t feel a need to bcc God. Sorry.
Let’s make matters a little worse. Apparently (no, obviously), at some point(s), I've had a positive reaction in front of other people involving a woman’s bare breast or the appealing nature of her body (sneaking a peak), because almost daily I receive nudie pictures in my inbox. And it’s not generally the classy WW2 calendar girl type either. It’s more of a Dom Perignon slash Louisville Slugger kind of gal-asaurus. Most are jokes. Usually, they involve a play on words. Some have wording about a camel’s foot and after scrolling to the bottom it reveals a close up pic of a woman’s private area in some really tight jogging pants or something. You get the idea.
Sometimes it’s a weight joke about how the female Rothlisberger fans must be large women compared to Romo fans in order for all the letters of his name to fit on the back side of their panties. Or how Ray Charles could go to California following the roadmap on those spider veins. You get the idea.
And I’m sure we’ve all seen Bob and the “little blue pill” jokes about the man at the doctor’s office asking about male enhancement.
That’s all well and good. Most of it is quite entertaining in an “I sure do hope nobody’s looking” kind of way.
However, the part out of all of this that blows my mind is when the same person sends me both religious emails and dirty jokes/porn. For example, I will get an email quoting the Bible and within minutes I’m getting another email from that same person showing me the up close and personals of a hairy broad that looks mostly like a cross between J. Edgar Hoover and Ernest Borgnine. I know for a fact that I’ve never had a conversation about church and ugly girls with big naturals. So what makes it ok in email? And what makes it ok, especially since we’ve only recently met. I’m just asking.
Please keep in mind… none of this offends me at all. That’s not the point. Again, I’m no prude. I just think it’s odd. What naughty school girls do during Spring Break when they are a thousand miles away from momma and daddy is their own business. I'm just paying for cable. I'm not making the movie.
So that’s not what I’m getting to at all. In fact, I think it’s hilarious. But unfortunately, I’m not laughing at the emails I get. (And I get a ton.) I’m laughing at the sender.
Think about it. I’m picturing the guy on the other end of the interwebs saying to himself “I know who’s going to have to see this!” And that person that's got to see it turns out to be me. Very strange that I always come to mind in this situation. Maybe it's some sort of oddball, weird, 21st century, single guy compliment.
(to be concluded…)
The Giraffe Effect (part 2 of 4)
The Giraffe Effect (part 2 of 4)
Feb 11, 2010
Thanks to the internets (lol), namely email and facebook, I am able to keep in contact with a large number of people that I’ve met over the years. Whether we were very close, passed in the halls of high school or college and never really got to know each other, or whether we drank really bad, warm, draft beer at Majestic's or Elsie's (ditto the apostrophe comment above), chances are, we feel like we know each other. And in most cases we do to some degree. Then, fast forward a few years. Slinging cards in casinos and coming up through the ranks selling cars on the coast, there’s been a few times that I ran into a chum with a bottle of rum and we wound up drinking all night (another Buffett quote that seems to fit.) So I know a lot of really good people. And I've had a lot of eclectic experiences with those people. Unfortunately, I just don’t care for giraffes.
Let me explain. It’s very similar to what my friend Lynsi calls “The Giraffe Effect.” She invited us over to see her new house last year and I couldn’t help but notice that she had several giraffes mixed in among all her decorations about the house. I saw a wooden giraffe on the mantle, a giraffe picture frame on the wall, a giraffe pillow on the couch and a stuffed giraffe chew toy for the puppy just to name a few. Having known Lynsi for a pretty good while, I never knew about her affinity for giraffes. So in making awkward conversation I said “I didn’t realize you liked giraffes so much.” To which she replied, “I don’t.” She continued “You make one 'that’s a cute giraffe' comment and that's all people give you.” She went on to say that it was easier to just smile and nod.
I completely understood that logic.
So here’s my giraffe.
As a kid I read and collected comic books. As an adult with a job and an above average income, I wanted to buy some of the rarer more expensive issues from the 1950s and 60s. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean that I have any intention of ever needing a set of Superman UNO cards or a Batman Frisbee.
Also, I currently own one of rarest lunchboxes ever produced, a Toppie, from the 1950s. Experts estimate that only about 21 to 25 were ever produced. It’s literally worth thousands. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I like elephants very much or Green Stamps for that matter.
And I think that the possibility of one day owning an authenitc Superman Gum Card Mail-Away Secret Compartment Ring (that's a mouthful) from 1940 would be a heck of an addition to my pop culture collection. Collectors dream of those things! (I have to admit, it isn’t easy making the transition to grownup.) But don’t bring me a Twilight mood ring from Barnes & Noble because it reminded you of me. For one thing, you obviously don’t realize how hard real collectors try to distinguish themselves from the Twi-crap buyers. So don’t add to the agony. And second, hardly anyone that earns anything short of a doctor’s income could even afford the 1940 ring I mentioned above. It’s a tad bit pricey.
So how does all this fit in? I've noticed lately that I have to be really careful exactly what emails I forward and particularly who I forward those emails to. There's something in our society that makes it acceptable for anyone that might receive an email from me to put me on their forwarding list ad nauseum for every single bit of interweb nonsense that they read.
So The Giraffe Effect rears its ugly head in my inbox daily. This brings me to the incredibly poor taste, but necessary, issue of linking Biblical email and porn.
(to be continued...)
Feb 11, 2010
Thanks to the internets (lol), namely email and facebook, I am able to keep in contact with a large number of people that I’ve met over the years. Whether we were very close, passed in the halls of high school or college and never really got to know each other, or whether we drank really bad, warm, draft beer at Majestic's or Elsie's (ditto the apostrophe comment above), chances are, we feel like we know each other. And in most cases we do to some degree. Then, fast forward a few years. Slinging cards in casinos and coming up through the ranks selling cars on the coast, there’s been a few times that I ran into a chum with a bottle of rum and we wound up drinking all night (another Buffett quote that seems to fit.) So I know a lot of really good people. And I've had a lot of eclectic experiences with those people. Unfortunately, I just don’t care for giraffes.
Let me explain. It’s very similar to what my friend Lynsi calls “The Giraffe Effect.” She invited us over to see her new house last year and I couldn’t help but notice that she had several giraffes mixed in among all her decorations about the house. I saw a wooden giraffe on the mantle, a giraffe picture frame on the wall, a giraffe pillow on the couch and a stuffed giraffe chew toy for the puppy just to name a few. Having known Lynsi for a pretty good while, I never knew about her affinity for giraffes. So in making awkward conversation I said “I didn’t realize you liked giraffes so much.” To which she replied, “I don’t.” She continued “You make one 'that’s a cute giraffe' comment and that's all people give you.” She went on to say that it was easier to just smile and nod.
I completely understood that logic.
So here’s my giraffe.
As a kid I read and collected comic books. As an adult with a job and an above average income, I wanted to buy some of the rarer more expensive issues from the 1950s and 60s. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean that I have any intention of ever needing a set of Superman UNO cards or a Batman Frisbee.
Also, I currently own one of rarest lunchboxes ever produced, a Toppie, from the 1950s. Experts estimate that only about 21 to 25 were ever produced. It’s literally worth thousands. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I like elephants very much or Green Stamps for that matter.
And I think that the possibility of one day owning an authenitc Superman Gum Card Mail-Away Secret Compartment Ring (that's a mouthful) from 1940 would be a heck of an addition to my pop culture collection. Collectors dream of those things! (I have to admit, it isn’t easy making the transition to grownup.) But don’t bring me a Twilight mood ring from Barnes & Noble because it reminded you of me. For one thing, you obviously don’t realize how hard real collectors try to distinguish themselves from the Twi-crap buyers. So don’t add to the agony. And second, hardly anyone that earns anything short of a doctor’s income could even afford the 1940 ring I mentioned above. It’s a tad bit pricey.
So how does all this fit in? I've noticed lately that I have to be really careful exactly what emails I forward and particularly who I forward those emails to. There's something in our society that makes it acceptable for anyone that might receive an email from me to put me on their forwarding list ad nauseum for every single bit of interweb nonsense that they read.
So The Giraffe Effect rears its ugly head in my inbox daily. This brings me to the incredibly poor taste, but necessary, issue of linking Biblical email and porn.
(to be continued...)
The Giraffe Effect (part 1 of 4)
The Giraffe Effect (part 1 of 4)
Feb 11, 2010
The fact that you are even reading this more than likely makes at least one of the following a true statement.
A) You know me
B) You have friends that know me
C) You’ve read my stuff before and you like it (or not, but you're not sure)
D) You want to forward me Bible verses and porn
Go figure…
A, B and C are rather self explanatory. As family and friends you probably read, or have read, my meaningless rants and psychobabble because of an unwritten rule that it’s just the right thing to do. “He’s family” or “he’s a nice guy” probably guilted you into this category. This is the same category of people that smile and say “fine, and you” when I say "how are you" or that laugh at a stupid joke I tell (because they don’t want to hurt my feelings.)
Then there's C. C is a bit trickier than A or B. C sort of puts you and me on the same wave length. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we know each other, per se. It just means that if we did, we’d probably hit it off. But whether we have met or will never meet is actually of very little or no consequence at all because we have that common factor. We’re on that same plane of existence. We both know the world can be a strange and inconsistent place. We both realize that 10 to 15 minutes of non-verbal, one-sided conversation can prove to be a closer bond than most people share in a lifetime. Why? Because it’s real. It’s true to life. We don’t always like to have a conversation with other people because we have to listen to the unnecessary drama that they verbally vomit and hurdle our way. But reading a blog allows you the ability to do only one thing. And that’s to play the part of listener. And with that, you can stop at any time. And if you are still with me this far down… thanks. I believe that all the Dr. Phil’s (I’m pretty sure an apostrophe doesn’t go there, but it looks right) of the world would agree with me on this.
All of which brings me to D.
I completely understand A, B and C. But D pretty much blows me away every time. Now I’m no prude. Far from it. I pray. I love to laugh. And I love the female body. (Too bad us guys got the short end of the stick in that department. No pun intended.) It’s quite easy to make fun of myself and make other people laugh though. I haven’t seen the world, but I’ve seen it’s underbelly a few times and it’s more fun to just smile and nod. There’s beauty in many things we take for granted. Through good times and riches and son-of-a-bitches, I’ve seen more than I can recall, as Jimmy Buffet would say. But what makes D the "social norm" from people that don’t fall into A, B or C? That’s just a little weird.
(to be continued...)
The fact that you are even reading this more than likely makes at least one of the following a true statement.
A) You know me
B) You have friends that know me
C) You’ve read my stuff before and you like it (or not, but you're not sure)
D) You want to forward me Bible verses and porn
Go figure…
A, B and C are rather self explanatory. As family and friends you probably read, or have read, my meaningless rants and psychobabble because of an unwritten rule that it’s just the right thing to do. “He’s family” or “he’s a nice guy” probably guilted you into this category. This is the same category of people that smile and say “fine, and you” when I say "how are you" or that laugh at a stupid joke I tell (because they don’t want to hurt my feelings.)
Then there's C. C is a bit trickier than A or B. C sort of puts you and me on the same wave length. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we know each other, per se. It just means that if we did, we’d probably hit it off. But whether we have met or will never meet is actually of very little or no consequence at all because we have that common factor. We’re on that same plane of existence. We both know the world can be a strange and inconsistent place. We both realize that 10 to 15 minutes of non-verbal, one-sided conversation can prove to be a closer bond than most people share in a lifetime. Why? Because it’s real. It’s true to life. We don’t always like to have a conversation with other people because we have to listen to the unnecessary drama that they verbally vomit and hurdle our way. But reading a blog allows you the ability to do only one thing. And that’s to play the part of listener. And with that, you can stop at any time. And if you are still with me this far down… thanks. I believe that all the Dr. Phil’s (I’m pretty sure an apostrophe doesn’t go there, but it looks right) of the world would agree with me on this.
All of which brings me to D.
I completely understand A, B and C. But D pretty much blows me away every time. Now I’m no prude. Far from it. I pray. I love to laugh. And I love the female body. (Too bad us guys got the short end of the stick in that department. No pun intended.) It’s quite easy to make fun of myself and make other people laugh though. I haven’t seen the world, but I’ve seen it’s underbelly a few times and it’s more fun to just smile and nod. There’s beauty in many things we take for granted. Through good times and riches and son-of-a-bitches, I’ve seen more than I can recall, as Jimmy Buffet would say. But what makes D the "social norm" from people that don’t fall into A, B or C? That’s just a little weird.
(to be continued...)
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