Montage

#1 Workouts

For Lent I decided I was going to commit to going to the gym and being better at being a fit human being. Yes, this is actually starting after St. Patrick's Day as I can't actually be expected to not eat Shamrock Shakes. That's absurd.

But as part of my process, I got this pre-workout supplement. As far as I can tell it makes men who want a “good pump” turn into menopausal women. Now all I do is sweat all the time and have massive mood swings whenever the 3557907g of caffeine wear off at 7:30 a.m. That being said, I am very awake when I work out. I just hope I keep ovulating normally.

#2 Pretty People Win at Everything!

I was hanging out with some friends this past weekend and one of my friends ran into an EXTREMELY hot guy at a trendy bar. EXTREMELY hot guy knew him and says, “Well, I see you're starting to hang out with the right people and climb the social ladder.”

No, he wasn't watching a CW Drama; this was a real-life gay man in his late 20s who said this.

Also, important to note is this conversation took place at a bar that was having a shower/underwear party.

I heard this, three drinks deep and I say, “That guy sounds like a terrible person.”

I thought it was a pretty objective viewpoint.

Not so. My other friend turned to me and says, “Tedd, you're being kind of a bitch.”

Yes. Yes in this situation I am the bitch. I guess if I had more abs and a chiseled face then I could get away with more judgement. See why Lent has me working on #1.

#3 I'm Not Quitting My Day Job

I went on a date with a guy and he says to me, “You're really cute. You could, like, be a model.” An expansive pause followed, which was concluded with, “You wouldn't make much.”

I'm giving the guy the benefit of the doubt, but you should bookend a compliment with a weird pause and then seemingly contradictory statement.

“You smell great.” (PAUSE) “My sinuses are completely clogged.”

“Your smile could stop traffic.” (PAUSE) “Did that raggity coyote just walk into that intersection?”

I think they guy meant that modeling is a rough career and no one makes it. Also, people who actually look like models are terrible people (see #2). And I don't want to spend that much time on #1 – Lent's 40 days, people. By the time you take out Shamrock Shake season it's a cool two weeks. In all fairness, I could probably model Snuggies. Or Doritos. Let's go with Doritos.

#4 I Wrote a Book Have I mentioned that 1000 Times Yet?

The best part about me writing a book, aside from the $300 I made, is this picture. Are gay men shallow? Just ask the torso books flanking mine in the bestseller list. To be fair, the guy on #68 finally met the right people and has been climbing the bestseller ladder.

#5 Still Got It

I've officially given up on dating. I don't mean this in a dramatic, “I'll never find love, pity me!!” kind of way. I mean, it's exhausting and feels like work. I want to just relax and enjoy my time, not cram it full of dates. I'm also not really in the mood to do anything serious. And I, like Kelly Clarkson, I don't really hook up.

That being said, I was on Tinder... Yes. It's terrible. For those of you who don't know, Tinder allows millenials to be as shallow as possible whilst dating. You are shown people in your Facebook network and get to swipe left “No, thanks” or right, “I would date that (read: I would bang that).” I had been on it an entire month and not a single person had messaged me. Well, my friend Joe's friend (follow me people) just broke up with his b/f. This guy was on Tinder, we matched. I wasn't hitting on him, but I sent him a message. Something like:

“Hey, is Joe still a jerk at work?”

Response: “Haha. Yes.”

I don't like to read between the lines, but this guy's over-the-top interest in me is embarrassing.

This, yet again, reminds me of an exchange my friend had with a girl while we were in high school. I hadn't turned gay yet and he was trying to set me up:

Friend: “Would you date Tedd Hawks?”

Girl: “Totally! He just needs a different personality.”

#6 Airplane:

I was on an airplane and have no stories. They were the two greatest flights of my life.

#7 Haircut:

The haircut was not so amazing. I was getting my locks lopped off a few days ago and had a male barber. He was straight (!) but he had a way of starting conversations that was completely non sequitur:

“How do you want it cut?”

“4 on the sides and back – little off the top.”

“I totally broke my guitar yesterday.”

Wait what?

The guitar convo went on as if I had been the one who loved guitars.

“I got this great GUITAR BRAND here and then went to this thrift shop and almost bought this one guitar. You know. You know what I'm talking about.”

“No, I don't.”

“Well, last Halloween my girlfriend and I went as Ash and Pikachu for Halloween.”

Wait..weren't we just talking about thrift shop guitars?

#8 This entry is over.

Planes and a Little about Thunderdome

2 Stories about Planes

I’ve blogged about airplanes before. To recap:

-       I hate other people and their conversations in confined spaces

-       If I’m reading a book, regardless of location, you should leave me alone

On trip one I was sitting by myself and reading Bossypants. The book isn’t that good, but I made a goal to try and finish it by the end of the flight, so I was chunking text like it was my job.

Usually when you encounter an airplane conversationalist, it’s in the first 10 minutes that they ruin your whole flight. Sitting next so someone offers the perfect opportunity to make meaningless commentary about the plane:

“This is a PLANE.”

“I hope they don’t charge $500 for PeaNUTS!”

“Can you believe that check-in line?”

“Where you going?”

Never it is an attractive or interesting person, either. It’s always some complete and total Schlubbub.

Schlubbub \shlub-bub \ (noun): 1. A person of great, overbearing blandness. 2. Someone that would order salad at KFC. 3. One who likes to discuss their lives on planes.

In this case, however, it was a dormant schlubbub. This guy waited until we were about 1.5 hours into the flight before he says to no one in particular:

“Uggghhhh.”

I threw a quick glance to my left (I was against the window.) and realized the other woman in the seat with us was sleeping. The man talking was between myself and the woman and roughly 900 years old.

I immediately went back to my book.

“Huuuummm-uuuugghhhhh. These seats.”

Oh no…actual verbiage.

Then he said: “Where you going?”

Sunnuvabitch.

“Chicago.” I said.

“Me too.”

Our plane was expected to land at O’Hare, so this was a good thing for both of us.

Another pause followed this exchange, which led me to lift my book up slowly and continue to read. I got in one word before:

“I was in ‘Nam, you know.”

There was nothing left for me to do but put down the book and listen in rapt attention. Had I done anything else it would have bordered on Canadian activity. As an American we’re obligated to listen to veterans say ANYTHING, especially old ones!

“Why…are…you…going to…Chicago?” I asked dejectedly, my goal of finishing my mediocre book drifting out the double-paned window.

“Well…,”

What followed was a long monologue about him and his war buddies and how they’re all on the verge of death. I tried really hard to engage him, throwing in lines like, “I was just visiting my friends, too.” And “Yes.” He continued to drone on, eventually turning the monologue into an existential point about life and death and war and ending with a gruff, “You know?”

“Yes.”

This dramatic point seemed to indicate the end of our exchange, so again, I turned myself, very awkwardly and slowly, to stare forward. I threw one side-eyed glance to see if he was talking again before, again, very slowly lifting my book to cover my face. I read three words before he says:

“But friendship, you know…”

A second monologue followed, which I didn’t really pay attention to. My mind drifted to the weekend previously when I had been at a party. A girl had been there who brought a bunch of hula hoops. I don’t know why either.

So again, the guy wraps up.

“…And that is the meaning of life.”

“Yes.”

Again, I turned and started on my book. This time, it was to undisturbed peace, as the woman on the other side of the man had stirred and I realized that it was his wife.

They exchanged some banter and I realized that I would still be annoyed as a point of conversation, so I quickly put in headphones and pretended to sleep.

I’m an anti-American dick.

Story 2:

Recently on a flight to Minnesota, I sat in the middle seat. I thought I may get lucky and sit alone, but was soon joined by Middle-aged-mom Kathy Griffin and Overweight Illini Alum.

The Illini Alum was about my age, so we started talking about being tall. (See previous comment about how airline banter is THE WORST.) We were talking about seats and being tall when all of a sudden Middle-aged-mom KG jumped in.

“You boys from Chicago?”

I swear this woman thought she was on a talk show. Her voice was a shout for no particular reason and she kept looking at us raising her eyebrow and winking as if we were her guests and audience.

“Yeah,” we said.

“Oh boy! Minnesota! Let me tell ya! What are you two going to Minneapolis for?”

We both said we had friends that we were visiting.

“Well,” she said emphatically. “Don’t let them take you in a truck on the ice!”

This lady evidently had really strong feelings about trucks driving on ice. Well, I take that back, it served as a kind of twist ending when she, at the conclusion of her ranting, mentioned that it is find to drive on the ice this time of year BUT don’t’ do it in March… Because… Both of us said we were also planning trips in March?

I know I sound snarky (as always) but this woman is one of my favorite types of people. She is a middle-aged mother, with liberal leanings, who thinks that she’s cool. She also thinks that no one knows things she doesn’t know.

“Cats have tails, do you believe it?!”

This was most prevalent in her long monologue about Jesse Ventura and his governorship of MN. She started many of her bullet points with questions with very obvious answers:

“There was no public transit, can you believe it?”

Yes, ma’am. Minneapolis doesn’t have a very centralized population and there are lakes everywhere. I’ve been there once and know they have a rail to the airport but I can see how service to the entire metropolitan area would be difficult. I’m not an idiot.

“And you know people drive on the lakes in April – and they crash through! Can you believe it!”

Yes, ma’am – people are morons.

She did tell us interesting facts about the train generating revenue and how Jesse Ventura just did whatever he wanted in office.

This, of course, all linked back to her trucks-on-ice-lake obsession because Jesse just made people pay for the city services if they crashed through the ice.

After a solid 40 minutes of MN history, politics, and central planning discussion. She turned to her magazine.

I thought that this was the conclusion, but then she turned to me:

“You ever read this? It’s a great magazine!”

I confirmed I hadn’t read it, which led to – “Read this one! Read it!”

She had four copies of the magazine, so she basically shoved the one down my throat before grabbing another.

“You’ll just love it!” she said.

I started looking at the magazine, when overweight Illini alum jumped in.

“I’m going to see my college buddies,”’ he said.

2-for-1! How much did I love this flight?! Seriously though, if it had been any longer than an hour, I might have murdered someone.

“I’m going to visit friends, too,” I said.

“I just got back from a visit to Texas. I was doing a location inspection. It was fine, but the guy there…” He gives me this look like, “you know what I’m sayin’?”

I had no idea what he was sayin’.

“Well the guy is,” he lowers his voice, “gay” regular voice resumed “and just….” The guy threw up his hands.

“Oh brother,” I said. “Tell me about it.”

I’ve also mentioned this another blog about this trip, but this was the excursion of everyone thinking I was straight.

The guy went on to talk about how this guy was annoying – I’m not sure how this was about being gay because he seemed like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill douchecock without his sexuality involved – and that he couldn’t wait to get out of Texas.

This all was interrupted by middle-aged-mom KG sighing and groaning as she read her magazine.

“Uck.”

“Do you believe it!”

“HA!”

By the time the plane landed I thought I was going to murder everyone. Luckily, my friend was waiting and I got as far away from the airport as possible.

I sincerely hope overweight Illini alum talked to me about his friends. “I met this really cool STRAIGHT guy on the plane. He liked vagina and everything!”

My Intersection: Beyond Thunderdome

I live near this really busy street in Chicago. I’m on a sidestreet, however, so the traffic situation is a little weird.

Basically, if you get to this intersection as a pedestrian and the light has turned red, you are forced to stand in the cold/heat/whatever awful Chicago weather for the next 4 minutes.

4 minutes at a stoplight isn’t a regular 4 minutes. It’s not like 4 minutes of Breaking Bad or 4 minutes making out in Roscoe’s. This is a grueling, awkward 4 minutes as more and more people get to the intersection, as cars pass, as people try to sprint across the street to avoid standing any longer in stoplight purgatory.

If you live in my neighborhood you know this. You spot the locals by the dead sprint they take off in any time the light turns to the white man to signal its okay to cross. I’ve literally, sprinted, full-tilt sprinted, from a block away to try and get across this street.

At one point the other day I was walking along aimlessly and I heard a scuffle. I looked up to see a woman in a dress and heeled boots, carrying some sort of pretentious music instrument, taking off like she was in the Olympic time trials.

Rather than think this is funny or odd, I immediately see her as a rival and enemy. The sidewalks are snowy. She has a giant instrument case that blocks half the sidewalk.

She better get the f$%^k out of my way.

I’m not always a monster, however. The other morning I was crossing and this guy got 1/3 of the way across the street. He turned to go back because a car was starting to turn into the intersection.

I never talk to strangers in public, but I turned to this guy and was about to say:

“You gotta make this light, dude. It takes forever.”

When he shook off whatever fear had him in its grip and started sprinting the rest of the way through the intersection.

He must have been a local.