Are those new slacks: Part II

Today is Raw's birthday. He is 26 years old. All of the sudden, 30 doesn't seem that far off. Neither does 40... and 50. In honor of the excitement of it all, I bought Raw one of those cataract calculators with extra large numbers so he can calculate how many brain cells he has lost since his birth more than a quarter of a century ago.

I have also decided to list a few memorable statistics...

- Mount Everest has grown 5.2 feet since Raw was born
- Raw has been alive for nearly 33% of Dick Clark's life.
- Ronald Reagan was president when Raw was born.
- Raw is twice as old as the youngest teenager (which most assuredly makes his affinity for them unethical and immoral)

...Happy birthday, old buddy. You're not over the hill yet, but you may be getting a few nose bleeds from the climb.

-Dave

Subway Stabbing Sparks International Incident

On the "T" last night three attractive ladies strolled on to the train dressed to the nines and headed out to party. From what I could tell they were international students, and Indian, an Aussie and a Brit. I know it sounds like I'm setting up a joke... well I guess I am but not in the way you think.

At the next stop a young lady carrying multiple bags wobbled onto the train and stood there looking exhausted. Something about the expression on her face made me feel bad for her -she was miserable as she stood there in flip flops and a dress being contorted by the various straps from the bags she was carrying. We hit central square a couple of minutes later and the train cleared out a little and she plopped down next to the international students. When we neared Harvard the internacionals stood up to leave and the train came to a stop causing them to have to take a step back to brace themselves. At that moment the tired lady screamed out in pain and startled everyone. The Aussie had accidental dug the heal of her stiletto into the top of the already flustered ladies foot.

The Aussie leaned over and apologized profusely. I was sitting directly across from the injured woman and could see the look on her face. She said nothing, she just stared up at the pretty Australian with a look on her face I could never imagine anybody making who wasn't on stage or in front of a camera. It was as if the Aussie woman killed her baby. The Brit and Indian woman eventually pulled the Aussie away before the doors closed and we started moving again. The train car was dead silent.

As we neared porter the lady started to shed a few tears as she reached for her foot. The doors opened and she slowly stood. It took her forever to leave the train, at least it felt like forever. It was as if everyone was watching out of the corner of their eye as she limped towards the exit -holding their breath until she was gone.

I felt terrible for her but she had certainly not been able to muster the strength to accept the Aussie woman's apology for what was obviously an accident. Something about this bothered me. Given the similar reaction from the rest of the train I have to believe we were all kinda thinking the same thing.

-Raw

Smash n' Grab

I went to hug a friend of mine from the side last night and I accidentally got a fist full of boob -sorry Mere.

Are those new slacks?

From the April 10th version of Science Magazine:

Having negative ideas about old people may harm your own health later in life, a longitudinal study suggests...On joining the study, the participants--healthy adults under 50-- filled out a questionnaire that asked about 'stereotypes' such as whether old people are "absent-minded" or "less intelligent"...The researchers found that people with worse-than-average age stereotypes were likely to have heart attacks or strokes at younger ages.

...so, given my 23 years of transgressions in this department, I have decided to simultaneously clear my conscience and improve my health...

Dear old people,

...no wait...

Dear old people,

I am sorry for having thought until recently that you are all senile, sluggish, and pathetic. I appreciate your long stories and I love when you pay with exact change at the grocery store. I now know that parking spaces are unfairly sized and that your poor driving is best explained by environmental factors. And I appreciate how your houses always smell like mothballs- its cute.

I hope that you can forgive me and that you will invite me to your front porch next time you scowl at teenagers and minorities.

Sincerely,
Dave

No "magic wand tool" Blues

I was supposed to have a date today. Well, a quasi date. She was supposed to meet me at the Davis T stop at noon an we were going to hang out and I was going to show her the basics of Photoshop so she can start fiddling around with her photos. I waited for 45 minutes while people passed me thinking "Who's the creep just watching people exit trains?"

I had gotten up early this morning and cleaned house, showered and borrowed a nice shirt from Dave. I had tea-cookies, coffee and orange juice waiting for us back at the house and I'd spent last night downloading the software for her and re-teaching myself some of the finer points I'd forgotten. I've since eaten every last cookie.

When I was at the station I tried to not look like a creep in a black over coat -should have picked a different jacket. I studied each piece of artwork intently and must say 8 year old kids these days know how to draw boats and sharks far better than I ever did at that age. The walk home in the rain wasn't as much of a kick-in-the-cherry-on-top as I'd thought it would be though.

Well at least now the house is clean, I'm clean shaven, and I figured out how to use a masking layer when applying a gradient to multiple layers of a project in PS CS4. There's a silver lining to everything I guess.

-Raw

Jigglin' for Change

It goes by many names: the street shake, the beggar bounce, the retard rock. But the official name is the canvass jiggle. And its awkward as hell...

For those of us who are in (or have recently been in) the world of environmental non-profits, its the bread n' butter of daily life. When we are sent out to the streets to raise money for the organization (aka canvass), it is the best way to look excited and get people to contribute to the cause (aka act like a huge douche and beg people for money).

From an outside perspective, its that thing that alerts you to the fact that the guy in the stupid t-shirt begging for money is a giant taint. It looks quite odd.

First, said taint puts his/her weight on the balls of their feet and lightly bounces up and down to the rhythms of their presentation. Of course, this almost makes it sound graceful, which it most certainly is not. This presentation is highly scripted, so the canvassing jiggle is really more of a douchey regurgitation than an improvisational dance. If you watch it long enough, you most certainly will throw up.

Second, the canvasser's hands join the party. At this point, he/she will have somehow found a way to get their clipboard into your hands. You will see their frantic spasms from the corner of your eye as you try to pretend to seem interested in what they are talking about. Its painful to watch, but impossible to ignore- kindof like watching someone get hit by a car...repeatedly.

Finally, the canvasser will finish up with their presentation and smile (in the field, we call it a "rap", though its considerably more painful to listen to- almost like the song Butterfly by Crazy Town). Its usually a horrendously cheesy smile, depending on how well the canvasser was trained. It will most likely want to make you kick a baby, but somehow you will probably just force a smile back.

Obviously, the exchange can go on and on, depending on how swiftly you can say "NO. I dont want to give you any money." (Try saying "I'll think about it" or "hmmm, maybe" to a canvasser. That is the equivalent of saying "please ask me to give you money again"). But I digress. You have witnessed the canvass jiggle. These three elements in harmony climb to the top of the douchebaggery meter (right up there with fanny packs and Adam Brody from "The O.C.")

Evolution certainly has some peculiarities. Peacocks, although beautiful, look ridiculous as they fan out their feathers and flash beauty at those around them. Porcupines can go to town killing animals in the forests, but have to be careful when getting intimate with other porcupines. An canvassers, for some unknown reason, have evolved these traits to distinguish themselves from the other people who beg for change on the streets. Its not to say that they are bad, or even the organizations they work for are (gulp), but their tactics sure are.

So, for those of you who are still in it, I hope you know you look ridiculous when you do the shake. And for those of you who are still scratching your heads, go hang out in a busy spot where canvassers are likely to roam. Don't worry, if you are assertive you wont have to give. But you will have to deal with some awwwkkkwardd shit. And you will know it when you see it

-Dave

Awkward Photos of the Month

Adventures of a Happy (on the outside) Robot

Special guest The Actress talks to us about the difficulties of being a bot.

Hello Awkwordnaughts! Guest Blogger #1 here. Call me The Actress, for reasons soon to be revealed. I, like many of the others frequently mentioned in this blog, am affiliated with a certain gigantic, national non-profit organization. But I, unlike many of the other key players, am still working for them. The others have all departed its grasp in the past few months, and are living happy lives without it. We won't get into the reasons why people have left, but I now find myself in the same position my friends and former colleagues were in a few weeks or months ago: making the decision to quit.

This in and of itself is not awkward, but let me tell you from firsthand experience, trying to conceal this fact to your employers certainly is. In our organization, we spend pretty much every waking hour with our co-workers and employers; we eat, sleep, and breathe our work. And you HAVE to be enthusiastic about it, or else you just "aren't the right fit for the job." I, by nature, am not an incredibly outgoing or peppy person; I would say I lean more towards introversion and sarcasm. I realized a little while ago that I did not agree with much of what my organization espouses, but did not decide to quit until recently. This decision has led me to have many interactions where my inner self is screaming at my outer self because it can't believe what I am actually forcing myself to do.

Like I said, enthusiasm is a must in this job. I have found that in order to keep the charade up that I love this work, I have upped the tone of my voice approximately one octave, and have taken to inserting the words "Awesome!", "Super!", and "Great!" into my daily vernacular at least twenty times as frequently as I used to. We have to interact with hundreds of people every day, and with every one, right before the interaction happens, I feel slightly nauseous with dread, and then suck it up, put on a cheesy grin and start talking like I am the world's most optimistic robot. The scary part is that I do it quite well! I honestly believe that my co-workers have no idea that I am unhappy, and I am probably one of the best people in my office. I must admit, I am a little proud of my Oscar-worthy performance.

In addition to the awkward inner feelings I have when having to be fake enthusiastic about something I completely hate, I have to constantly be watching what I say so that I don't give any clues to my impending departure. Typical conversation A:

Co-Worker: "Hey! Aren't you excited about working on the campaign later this summer??"

What I want to answer: "Oh dear God, if I have to talk about this one more time I will go insane. No I'm not excited at all, in fact I am quitting soon and getting as far away from this organization as possible."

What I do answer, after holding back my nausea: "Oh man! It is going to be so awesome! We are going to get so much done!! This office is great!"

One of the things I hate is the expectation to always be recruiting. In fact, it is our mantra. So, of course, when I am training new staff, I never get to just be myself; I put on my Optimistic Robot mask and blabber on about how great the job is. My poor trainees get used to talking about the most inane things and they get it drilled into their heads that this work is amazing and every person who works here loves to devote their whole lives to it. I feel bad that they are sucked into it, but hey, if they actually like this, then more power to them. Typical conversation B:

Trainee: "Is this job hard?"

What I want to answer: "Please, just go home right now. Trust me, you do not want to stick around here. It would make your and my evenings both much easier and more enjoyable if you quit right now."

What I do answer: "It's hard work, but it's soooo much fun! And it's so important! If we don't do this work, there is no way we can win on this issue. I love the people I work with and it's so worth it!!"

I have a really hard time mustering up the motivation to do anything for this organization, but I am trying to act as enthusiastic as possible so that they do not get rid of me before I ditch them, even though the conversations and interactions I have are almost unbearable. I may be developing a stomach ulcer from forcing back the nausea multiple times a day, but what can I say? I am good at faking it. ;-)

-The Actress

Room Available

The past few weeks have been a little sad. Some very good friends of mine have moved from Boston and from the house in Somerville we all stay in. I had to find someone to sublet for the summer for Meredith's room and she seems cool. She'll be in May 15th and I'm sure will become a character in our ever expending cast of Awkwardnaughts. Dave is moving to North Carolina, where he will STILL be writing for The AwkWord, but his absence will be a crushing blow to my fun quotient. Luckily I like my co-workers and well, needless to say, they are a never ending source for both fun times and awkward moments to blurb.

Dave's impending departure for the south has us on our second wild roommate chase in as many weeks. This craigslist aided process is awkward in and of itself. Lets' take a closer look.

First off the notion of trying to condense yourself down to a few paragraphs is pretty ridiculous. You can end up taking yourself too seriously and causing soon-to-be-homeless people everywhere to roll there eyes and click next or you can end up being the guy who writes "Room avail. downtown. $650 + utilities. No goldfish". Neither of these scenarios will produce results for your search.

After settling on what details your add should include and editing out those that are not necessary it's time to sit back and sift through the few dozen weird responses and scams to fine the few genuine people who actually read your add and are looking for a place in your area, not Turkestan.

Of these remaining applicants most will have too little personality or too many cats. The ones that show promise are then invited to come see the place... a meet and greet if you will. These are always... well you know what they are.

"Hey how's it goin'? This is the room, sorry it's a little messy right now. Any questions for me? Oh yeah I love to cook. Oh no, no cable just internet. What kind of roommate are you? Yeah, i guess that's kind of an odd question. (I can't tell if you like the place or not and I'm starting to repeat myself) Thanks for comin'. Oh here's my number. I'll walk you out. Oh yeah there's off street parking. Thanks again, yeah have a good one. I'll be in touch. bye."

I hope I don't have to do this again for a while. To Charlotte and Meredith who lived here, and Carney and all the others who stayed here for days or weeks at a time over the last few months I miss your company and all the antics. Awkward moments are better when shared with others.

Craigslist Thriller

Riding home on the train tonight, I couldn't help but notice all of the silly-looking couples getting ready for silly-looking sex. It got me thinking: how did all these people meet?

In modern times, it seems more and more people are turning to Craigslist to satisfy their needs. Of course, relying on a box full of wires and flashing lights to connect two living people can be tricky. And Craigslist posts are certainly not completely revealing of one's true identity.

So, in honor of the ambiguity of it all (and the inevitably silliness that comes from making an intercouple), here are a few things that you might not want to say on the first date:

- "So I see you took a few liberties on your personal profile."

- "I didn't know they made shirts in that size."

- "I hope you don't plan on making me have sex with you."

- "So, what do you want for breakfast tomorrow."

- "Do you mind if we go Dutch on the condoms tonight, baby?"

- "Oh you are way prettier than last night's date."

- "...Oh"

- "Sorry I'm late to the Sushi bar. I was on the John and had to make a Maki of my own."

- "How many roofies does it usually take?"

- "Wow, I'm not that desperate!"

... Love may in fact be more than a mouse click away. But awkward situations sure aren't

-Dave

Moen Girls

Its good to be back. I took a 2-week break from blogging, and have realized what an important part of my life pointing out awkward situations is.

And what a better way to get back into the palm-sweating swing of things than with what happened this morning...

I heard lesbian sex. Well, I think it was lesbian sex. It was sex, to be sure, but the lesbian bit depends on a self identity issue that I am not prepared to answer (its Jamaica Plain, MA- where census demographers truly earn their salary).

I was lying in bed getting ready to hop in the shower and get a start on the day (note: this was intended to be a normal in-and-out shower, not a scrub-and-tug). I sat up from bed, but heard a moan from the other room. Then another. And another.

By my powers of deductive reasoning, I figured that the two people I had caught smooching and groping at the kitchen table the night before were engaging in... well, each other. I would have been perfectly satisfied to go ahead with my shower anyway, but I am certain I read somewhere that showers are almost always involved in morning sex.

Imagine if the beast with two backs had opened up the shower curtain to see me standing there butt naked, smiling.

So I decided to stay in bed and let them ride it out. A few more moans, one or two hard bumps, and a long sigh later, and it seemed to be over. I skurried to the bathroom and threw some water on my face, coughing loudly to alert all potential lovers to my presence. Then back to my room to get dressed.

Better to be a little dirty than to ruin "the moment" for anyone else.

-Dave

Chopstick Lessons Part IV: Aw that's cute. Or is it?

The next morning I arrived for the lunch shift and Antonia was the lone server on the clock. She smiled tiredly at me as I walked past her to hang my coat. A few minutes later she cornered me in the back and told me she didn’t think it was going to work. She had spoke to a lawyer and it turns out there were a number of small issues that would most likely keep us from being married any time soon. I thought I’d be relieved but the news hit me more in a “huh, that’s too bad” kind of way. I teasingly asked her if we could still be friends and at first she didn’t get the sarcasm of what I was saying but the joke slowly washed over in synch with a smile. I wanted to give her a hug but didn’t have the courage to.

A few minutes later I was cleaning some wine glasses when I heard an unfamiliar laugh from the kitchen. I peeked around the corner to see who it was… kitchen uncle! Laughing? No way! I must be seeing / hearing things. Then I heard it again, and again I peeked around the corner. A Chinese kid who busses for us when he’s not in school was talking to the old man as he butchered chicken. Then I saw it, after the young guy had said something in a playful tone of voice kitchen uncle’s lips parted just slightly and a low “Ha. Ha.” boomed forward. Up until this point I had genuinely believed the old man was incapable of being happy. It’s cool to be wrong sometimes.

As the day went on I found myself thinking about Antonia and what could have been. I mean, I almost got married, shit. True it wasn’t exactly for traditional reasons but some of the mental images, though obviously highly romanticized, were quite enticing. Now whenever I’m around Antonia I feel as if my footing isn’t quite sure. I think I have a crush on her. I think the crush is just a byproduct of the fantastic images swirling in my head which resulted from her asking me a most ridiculous favor. I think I’m acting like a little boy and it’s pathetic. I think my coworkers see it and laugh at me while shaking their heads. I think I have a crush on her.

Fuck. I'm that guy.

fin

-Raw