Archive for the Lacking Social Graces Category

Feeling old…again…

Posted in Lacking Social Graces on May 28, 2008 by Mas Younon

It’s depressing enough that I found yet another white blond to the extreme hair today, but now due to a reference, I’m reminded of days when I was way younger, and two stone lighter… Prom.

Junior Prom: Suckered into the whole stupid thing. Double dated with an acquaintance of my date(who liked me, especially when high). Spent WAY too much on tux, dinner, carriage ride through downtown…stupid, stupid, STUPID. Ran into an old friend that moved away and had a crush on back in junior high. Literally ditched my date for a night of small talk with her(in fact I think the video yearbook has a shot of me and her walking away from my “date” about 20 paces behind). Okay time. Mucho dinar.

Senior Prom(the reason people bounced here): Totally single, although I did have a totally psycho stalker, which is why most of you are here(let it be said, that at this point in my stupid life, I was a bit frightened of her, but BTW, she looked FANTASTIC. You have no idea. Seriously. I was an idiot. Anyway…). I learned my economic lesson. I went stag. I ate at home(PB&J RULES! I kid you not.). Combined my last two years of show choir tuxes(still straight, thank you) and spent all of $20 on the whole thing. Hung out with friends, made retarded decisions ignored advances, stayed out of the well dressed mosh pit, and got to geek out because I was at the natural history museum. Went to after prom and made it home by my extended curfew(this is where you laugh at me).

Thoughts?: I could easily go off on a rant about social norms, conditioning, and blah, blah blah… but for me, prom was just another school dance where I felt out of my element, ignored what could have been brilliant, and cared less about the whole king/queen crap. Though the senior prom was, “better,” I’d have done well to ignore, “normality,” in favor of fun. They’re okay, but too much pressure exists then and now(thanks, Footloose).

Where’s my walker?

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…Fred Rogers, Spike Lee, and…

Posted in Lacking Social Graces on March 20, 2008 by Mas Younon

Payback is a…dish best stewed upon for a couple of months, then reheated in the microwave on high for two to three minutes(remove the bag when the kernel pops are more than a second apart).

Someone I know has a birthday today. No, not Rick Berman, nor William Hurt or even Holly Hunter(yes it’s their day too, but I don’t know them).

As you may or may not recall, this friend of mine set me up for public ridicule at a time when I was fragile and feeling the effects of the aging process. After a short, but fun e-slapfest, we made up but…well I thought a bit of poking the fun stick(minds out of the gutter) in the other direction was in order.

The problem facing me is that it would be…immature of me to reveal things that could cause embarrassment. At least, outright…I couldn’t just say, “X-years and a gestation period ago, her parents had sex.” That would be rude to not only reveal her age, but to burn into her mind the image of her mother and father engaged in carnal relations.

How then to snicker at someone without revealing their darkness? Make stuff up? Say, “To hell with it,” and release the hounds? Be the bigger person and let it go?

Hell to the NO.

Seeing as it is an election year, her occasional need to do a Thursday Thirteen, and my own petty nature…I’ve decided to list 13 alleged facts about the enigma wrapped in a whiskey filled, question mark shaped flask that is, Mr. Lady.

No particular order, and at least one of these is true(allegedly):

  1. She’s (mostly)a lady: In all my years of knowing her, she’s only broke wind(audibly) once in my presence. Now granted, even if it sounded like someone starting a chainsaw with added reverb and echo, it was hilarious, human, and the only time I can recall.
  2. She’s a freak(on paper): She has no middle name. Her name is X Z, no Y at all. I think she may have since compensated for this deficiency by moving her maiden name to the middle but really, we’re supposed to be a superpower, someone with only a first and last name should raise a flag or two…and she emigrated to Canada, Hmmm…
  3. She’s kind and nurturing: I was having a bad day, and after confiding my pain and frustration to her, she gave me what she later referred to as a, “knuckle hug,” to my left temple. Upon regaining consciousness she suggested I, “walk it off,” and then insisted I was a tiny cat.
  4. She has a weight problem: It would be rude of me to disclose any woman’s weight, in pounds, yet I can assure you that(though I was never able to confirm it on my larger scales) she is roughly equivalent to that of a duck.
  5. She’s a strong influence: So strong, I’m willing to bet ten of my rapidly declining in value American dollars that, at least one of her boy’s will dress up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter before the age of 18(and after reading this, I lay two to one odds it’s the middle child), even if none of his friends know what Rocky Horror is(though if they spend any time at her house, they will). Another ten says she takes the boy to the store and helps him pick out the correct lingerie(just to make the people at Victoria’s Secret do a triple take).
  6. She’s no slave Leia: But she did have this chain metal top/dress/renaissance festival type thing…
  7. She’s a black magic woman: Like Mola Ram, she has the ability to pluck the still beating heart from your chest. I’ve seen it, and it is grim. This kid got off easy, trust me, and I’ll put another five bucks on the fact that she’s manipulating my astrological chart so that an asteroid hits me within the week.
  8. She’s musically gifted: At one point in her life she claims to have been able to play the sad, walking away music from the end of every episode of “The Incredible Hulk.”
  9. She’s a film connoisseur: Her favorite film is the science fiction classic, “Fortress,” it effected her greatly. True friends of hers would be wise to buy this film for her in every format available. Personally, I think her dream is to have this film running on a loop 24 hours a day.
  10. She’s a freak(genetically): Writes with the right, bats lefty, allergic to red dye #40…Not to go all conspiracy on you, but there were rumors that our(U.S.) government was working on a genetically engineered, female, ambidextrous super-spy during the end cold war, whose only kryptonite was red
  11. She likes to stick it to herself: Most of her piercings(that I know of…) were done by her. Why? “Because I’m hardcore like that emmeffer!” she once said to me before embracing me with yet another knuckle hug. And the tattoos, what was the last count? Two full sleeves of characters from “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” the names of her children, the entire battle of Helm’s Deep across her back, a Tron identity disc “tramp stamp,” and two marshmallow peeps battling to the death in Thunderdome(and no, I won’t go into where that one is).
  12. She’s kind to animals: Unless she takes care of them. R.I.P., Yoda.
  13. She’s Got a Laugh About Her(apologies to Billy Joel): The best, most beautiful sound she makes is her laugh. Even when pretending to laugh at my stupid jokes(which I’m hoping she still does). Better than a choir of angels, that laugh.

I could go on but, she may already be plotting my doom and it’s best I don’t press my luck.

So I raise my glass and drink(heavily), in honour of…

Too much(time on my hands)…

Posted in Lacking Social Graces, Umm...yeah...okay... on March 18, 2008 by Mas Younon
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Olde Time Religion

Posted in Lacking Social Graces on March 14, 2008 by Mas Younon

It’s been an age since I’ve categorized myself as anything in the religious category, and I couldn’t be more pleased with that aspect of myself. I’m a skeptic and I’ve got commitment issues so I won’t even claim atheist or agnostic status. I am, happily, a non-religious person(which is its own discussion unto itself). I did, once upon a time, try to believe that I was a believer of a sect of Christianity. And even if that didn’t work out for me in real life, I realize that there are some aspects of that “life” that I do actually miss. So, in an attempt to reconcile my past/be deeper than I am, I’m going to list the things that I miss about religion(in no particular order):

  • Music: Granted, not all of it makes a joyful noise unto the lord(in fact a great deal is quite depressing), but some truly amazing, haunting and beautiful music has been born from the need to worship/appease/create for the almighty. Plus I enjoy sining and church offers a once a week indulgence.
  • Stained Glass: I don’t know why, but the only place I find stained glass to be appropriate is a church. Something about the sacred ground and light through colored glass that only works(for me), as a combination.
  • Questioning Authority: In Sunday School, I was always asking too many, “what if/why not/how come” questions. I was curious. I wanted to explore these topics and stories. To find truth and meaning. I wasn’t aware that church was a, “because I said so,” kind of thing and as a child, this kind of questioning and making adults squirm in their uncertainty is written off as precocious. As an adult they just call you a jerk.
  • A Scapegoat: Though I never bought it, it was always fun to see what Satan’s tool for corruption of the week was pulled out of the magic hat. Oh we had all the great classics: Playing metal records backwards, D&D and other role-playing games, credit cards(no kidding, and I still laugh about it). That kind of finger pointing logic still exists, but it was fun to see the “thought process” first hand, now I just read about it and shake my head.
  • Christmas: I’m not a fan of the holiday now, and I am sure if I did believe I would still be against the commercialism of the holiday but, when I was young Jesus was the reason for the season. It was so theatrical: the nativity, the songs, the service…It all added a bit of extra…something more to the holiday and as a child it was comforting and magical.
  • My Sunday Best: it was a pain in the ass then and it still is now, but sometimes(just sometimes) it’s nice to look good in the daytime.
  • Lunch: After the service, we would go to one of the grandparent’s homes for a meal. As a child, I will admit, I despised the food and yet, looking back…it’s all comfort food now, no matter how good or bad it actually is.
  • My Sunday Best, part 2: Changing out of the stiff “dress clothes” and getting into something comfortable to play in. Glorious relief.
  • Grandparents: Once a week, a chance to be with amazing people(though I did not know it at the time), who had stories(that I never took the time to learn), and be with them.

…not what I planned at all…

Posted in Fear, Lacking Social Graces, Suffering on March 4, 2008 by Mas Younon

I feel I should get this, or this, for my wall. 

A few weeks ago, I stumbled on a job opportunity that looked like it would be good for me to go after.  I met the requirements, it looked like fun work so I threw caution to the wind and sent a resume.  A week after that I got called in for an interview and took today off from the placeholder job to cast my lot.  This was in no way a make or break kind of employment opportunity.  If I didn’t get it, no big.  If I did…sweet chance for adventure.  This lack of urgency was great since it was a no pressure situation, and I show up at the appointed time calm and cool.  Totally at ease, relaxed and confident.  They call my name, I saunter up to the door to the room and gracefully close the door behind me.

I greeted them with a polite, “g-g-goodm-morning..?” and then things began to go terribly wrong.

For some reason, every positive aspect of me stayed on the other side of the door.

I don’t stutter, but I passed it off as a momentary verbal-brain disconnect.  I think they asked how I was(I’m not 100% on that because I was thinking about the stuttering) and I replied, “I’m fine how are you?”  Unfortunately(and I wish this were an exaggeration), my vocal cords decided to remember the time when puberty was upon me and my voice resembled a screeching cat scraping its claws on the blackboard.  That was when time began to slow down and I could literally feel myself beginning to sweat(everywhere and all at once).  I froze, I stumbled/fumbled, I was without (witty or otherwise)repartee, and when I could find the words…well with the voice of a mid-pubescent…screature(trademark) stuck in my wind pipe, the situation was horrific.  I felt the air cringe.  The only saving throw I made was that I neither vomited, or soiled myself.  At the end I apologized for their time and took my hasty leave, which required three attempts at the door(great in physical comedy, not in real life).

It’s not that I won’t get the job(of that I am certain) that bothers me, like I stated before it was one of those great if I get it, life continues if I don’t kind of situations.  What does vex me is the fact that I locked up/froze/Hindenberged.  I don’t recall that level of terror in a long, long time.  I’m talking elementary school ago, in front of the church congregation, child humiliation/terror.  I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone on the hour and a half long(made longer) train ride home, and when by chance I did, luck had it that it was to connect with an angry fellow who was already speaking angrily to me(he’d apparently been in a custody battle and was awarded two days a month with his kids and he may have hinted, repeatedly, that he felt race played an issue) and when I looked over at him, he went off.  Thankfully, we were near his stop and my inability to offer anything more than a deer in headlights stare and slight head shaking convinced him that I was from out of town.  “You’re not even American,” he mumbled as he got off the train.

But I veer from the point…avoidance of the issue.

I got home, had a late lunch, hid under a blanket(metaphorically) for awhile and have spent the past however many hours trying to figure out what switch I tripped today/if my ego is trying to teach me a lesson/why I sabotaged myself…whatever.

All I know is that everything that happened was…

You Don’t Bring Me Flowers…*

Posted in Lacking Social Graces on February 14, 2008 by Mas Younon

…I mean come on.  If you’re not going to put forth the effort, I’m not sure where this relationship is going.

Ahh… the old VD.  Nothing strikes fear into the hearts of young love quite like it.  In truth, I’ve never been a fan of the occasion and yet, it does get me a thinkun about the ancient art of pitching the woo(one must take care when pitching, lest ye get forked**).

Being socially stunted, I myself only have a few “mad skilz” going for me.  My go to move was developed in the old days of junior high.  The classic note:

“Do you like me?  If so, check this box.”

After that I learned the secret of the best cheesecake… ever.  But that really does not work at the bars(seriously, you try getting anorexic weight conscious individuals interested in high calorie taste sensations).

Find a karaoke bar and I might stand a chance at upstaging the dude with the abs of six and the matching I.Q., but again it’s a place and time kind of thing.

There was this one time, in another life, that I did something that did work(though I’m fairly sure that the object of my affection already liked me.  Really, really liked me).  Not exactly original, but it proved to be effective at the time.  I’ve not employed it since, but here it is for you to use, should you truly be desperate:

StalkInquire about the schedule/whereabouts of your intended, and when the opportunity arises leave a single rose(budget permitting) on the door of their residence/car windshield with the following poem by Edmund Waller:

Go, lovely Rose—  
Tell her that wastes her time and me,  
    That now she knows,  
When I resemble her to thee,  
How sweet and fair she seems to be.          
 
    Tell her that ‘s young,  
And shuns to have her graces spied,  
    That hadst thou sprung  
In deserts where no men abide,  
Thou must have uncommended died.   
 
    Small is the worth  
Of beauty from the light retired:  
    Bid her come forth,  
Suffer herself to be desired,  
And not blush so to be admired.   
 
    Then die—that she  
The common fate of all things rare  
    May read in thee;  
How small a part of time they share  
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!   

Yeah, I can’t believe it worked either.  Happy snogging!

 *the song is now in your head, on a loop…good luck with intimacy now, sucka!

**I am never, ever above a horrific pun.