Feb 23, 2010

I'LL TAKE FAT AND HAIRY, ALEX

I came across an interesting article yesterday. Now, before I discuss said article, I'd like to take a moment to thank, or, as the people who still use the word 'bling' like to say, 'shout out' to Google Buzz for connecting me to Tony and to Tony, himself, for feeling compelled to share with the world that he is, scientifically proven, highly desirable to women.

As those of you who clicked the link already know (see what happens when you prepare?), the article details the results of a poll conducted on 2,500 women in England.  The pollsters (so named because 'strangers who call you at home and ask you intrusive personal questions' has too many words for a job title) asked women what their secret turn-ons were and what they really wanted in a partner. Among the alleged discoveries:
The poll of 2,500 women also revealed that 91% would actually prefer a guy who had a few flaws over someone who is perfect. And more than half would rather a guy who was soft and cuddly instead of toned and muscly.
Apparently, the people at the newspaper reporting the story were shocked by the results. Going so far as to say:
'But these results prove that women secretly want something different. It seems women really do like a guy who is able to show a softer side, or who is carrying a little bit of extra weight.


'I'm sure it's a relief to men all over the country to find out that women aren't actually looking for that perfect guy.'
I don't know about you, but none of this comes as a surprise to me. I'll tell you why.  They asked the wrong question.  If these same women were given a multiple choice test featuring coventionally good looking men and Jack Black and were then asked to choose which one was most attractive, dollars to munchkins (I like them better than donuts), the answers would conform to People Magazine's expectations.  However, once the question is personalized, what would you prefer in your man we leave the realm of the objective and enter the subjective zone.  Now, much like Twilight Zone the Subjective Zone is a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind...a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination.  In the subjective zone the question isn't, is this man attractive, it's; How do you imagine you're life would be with this man. Would you be happy?  Would he get on your nerves?  Are you OK with men using hair gel?

Once those factors are taken into account we view the results differently. Women don't want a perfect man?  OF COURSE NOT!  Who'd want to spend their lives with someone who gave them body image issues?  The question isn't, what do women find attractive it's, what would they be comfortable comparing themselves to for all eternity.  Now if I asked you, do you think women want to date someone prettier than they are, would you be surprised by the answer? Didn't think so.  If you want to know what women find attractive, or anyone for that matter, don't make their answer dependent on insecurities.  That being said, thank God for insecurities.

Feb 18, 2010

NOT SO GREAT EXPECTATIONS

So I've been thinking about this issue for a while, but I hadn't delved into it because, well, I didn't want to come across as a sexist or misogynist.  Thankfully, today I realized that I've written stuff that's way more offensive to women than what I'm about to discuss so I don't have to worry (that logic works, right?). 

My question is this: Why is Lindsey Vonn famous?

I grant you this question would be more valid if I'd had the testicular fortitude to ask it before she won a gold medal and was in the lead for a second crashed in her attempt at a second (though, from a notoriety point of view, if you want to get famous for failing you should probably do it this way; the unexpected is much more memorable), but I think the question remains valid.  It's been widely reported that if, as she did, Ms. Vonn were to win a gold medal she'd command as much in endorsements as Michael Phelps (I think he's the one on the left). To compare, Michael Phelps is the most decorated Olympian EVER, Lindsey Vonn has a gold medal. Also, Michael Phelps has about 18 extra teeth, hang gliders for ears and, if possible, looks like a more retarded version of Eli Manning.  Lindsey Vonn was in Sports Illustrated's swimsuit edition.

This may have been obvious before, but if you're a reasonably attractive women, it's decidedly in your best interests to become an athlete. On a related note: If you're a dude and look like Michael Phelps or Eli Manning, you want to be a really really good athlete. Generally speaking, for women, the hotter you are, the less actual success you need to have, and thus the less talented you need to be. Ironically, given the apparent paucity of attractive women in professional sports, you even get graded on a curve. Not that I would ever rank women on a scale of 1-10 (1-100 is far more accurate, it's like using the metric system), but Lindsey Vonn isn't gorgeous.  She's a pretty girl, no doubt, but she wouldn't be famous for being pretty if she couldn't ski.  What people mean when they call her 'gorgeous' is really: Gorgeous for a woman's athlete. It's sort of the way you'd judge a white guy dunking a basketball or Sarah Palin's debate skills. It may not be accurate, but I guess it's the least we can do for ignoring the athletic accomplishments of less attractive female athletes the world over. See also: Danica Patrick

Not to be heretical, but I think Avatar falls into a similar category.  As an unceasingly hyped, special effects heavy, blue giants with tails and a USB cable, 3-D movie, expectations for its quality were understandably low.  When it failed to be the worst movie of the year, the relief that it failed to live down to those low expectations made people see it as a great movie rather than a good one.  Those same low expectations that caused people to call Lindsey Vonn gorgeous, got Avatar an Oscar nomination. True story.

Poll to your left (mine too).

Feb 16, 2010

CHINESE TAKE OUT

Sorry for the lack of posting last week Readers.  I can't say I have a good excuse, but you should probably know I'm using my puppy dog eyes, so really, how could you stay mad at me? 

That being said, I do feel much more energetic after the long weekend and plan a full posting schedule this week. Still, I probably shouldn't to commit to anything, not because I'm afraid of commitment, I believe that's currently in the 'debatable' category, but because a wise man, I think it was Schopenhauer, said, "your ego should never write checks your body can't cash". Maybe not, I tend to get my Nineteenth century German philosophers and 80's movie stars confused all the time. You'd be shocked how many times I mistook Hegel and his dialectics for the German terrorist Hans Gruber in Die Hard. Sorry Georg Wilhelm!

Anyway, I missed Valentine's Day and the start of the Olympics, two topics ripe for abuse and that kind of saddens me. I'll leave Valentine's Day alone for now because I'm still in shock that in Japan women are expected to give men chocolate and receive nothing in return.  I know Japan's been taking a lot of crap lately, what with Toyota's accidentally setting land speed records left, right and tree, but I think we need to acknowledge their ingenuity for a moment.  Sure, they eventually created a holiday on which men have reciprocate a month later, but it took over forty years for it to catch on. The best we could do was deny women voting rights for 144 years, how did that save me any money?

What? Too soon?

Speaking of things that come to soon, I don't think I ever realized how young most Olympians are until this year. I don't mean to say that it makes anything they do more impressive, I still have no idea why cross country skiing and target practice were combined.  It's like a bad infomercial product - it's a toothbrush and a caulker! - it's just now I kind of feel bad for inventing a game where you win by picking the athlete who falls, crashes, or otherwise humiliates themselves most (By the way if you want the rules feel free to ask me in the comments section. It makes figure skating surprisingly watchable). Perhaps the most amusing aspect of the Games, now that my conscience has sucked the freude from their schaden, is listening to the announcers sing the praises of foreign nations training regimens, in particular, China. I was watching the pairs figure skating last night (double the amount of falls), when I heard the announcer wax on (wax off!) about how dedicated the Chinese pair was to their training, whilst apparently forgetting about the whole Communism/child abuse/human rights violations thing.  The putative gold medal favorites, he told the story of how they (were) moved out of their homes when they were children, I think he said 8 years old but I can't confirm it right now (Knowledge drop: If you type Chinese and Zhang into the google search box, you don't narrow the field all that much).  Anyway they were both living in these special athlete dorms (one for boys one for girls) when they met and got paired up.  Eventually they got married and here's the kicker, they still live in the same dorms.  The announcer, I imagine China owns his home loan, was trying so hard to play this up as a positive, went so far as to say, "Zhang and Zhang are among the most dedicated athletes at the Games, they're a married couple, but to further their success they still live in the athlete dorms in China, only seeing each other at meal times and during training."  Of course, now that Mr. Zhang fell, I doubt she'll be seeing him at all.  I'd like to see him spin that in 4 years. "Zhang and Zhang are skating for China, not to be confused with the Zhang and Zhang from Vancouver 2010.  After Zhang's fall, the Chinese goverment executed her husband  in order to pair her with a more competent skater, what dedication!"

P.S. Yes, I realize that I gave Zhang's new husband her surname.  You wanna make something of it?

Feb 5, 2010

SUGAR HIGH

Here are a few things that I've noticed while pondering whether I can get asbestos poisoning from accidentally snorting the topping off a powdered donut:

- Powdered donuts are really hard to eat.  In case you were wondering, the proper procedure for safely eating a powdered donut without coating your lungs or clothing with confectionery sugar is as follows: Inhale, hold your breath, open your mouth, insert donut, take a bite and remove donut from the vicinity of your breathing apparati, inhale again. Repeat.

- The Apocalypse, or rather post-apocalypse seems to be quite popular at the movies these days The Road, Book Of Eli, From Paris with Love.  Accordingly, I feel I've learned enough about life on post-apocalyptic earth to give you a bit of a preview:
  • Despite the fact that the nuclear blast destroyed pretty much everything, sunglasses and goggles will be available to all, you know, because glass is so not fragile.  Hot women and heroes will also be lucky enough to get what appear to be scratch proof Oakleys.
  • In the post-apocalypse, dental hygiene is the new racism. You'll be able to tell how important someone is to your world by their teeth.  If they have nice shiny ones, they're clearly key members of some unknown narrative.  If not, they're pretty much the token black guy in a horror movie.
  • A fat, earinged, bald headed, post-middle-aged, John Travolta, will star in an action movie, as an action hero.
- Without Google I could not hope to spell the following expressions, many of which I use:
  • Hoi Polloi
  • C'est la vie
  • Je ne sais quoi
  • Que sera sera
- In a related note, do you think the French's profligate vowel usage is their way of sticking it to the Nazi's and their consonant heavy German?

- This is my new favorite website: http://www.unnecessaryquotes.com/

- When did not having plans for the Superbowl become the new, 'not having a date for Valentine's day'?

- Is it wrong to complain about having nothing to do at work? Or is this one of those situations where boredom doesn't get you any sympathy?

- Another related note: I don't mean to imply that I haven't had enough to do at work anything, but I've officially finished reading the internet.  Spoiler alert: Bruce Willis was dead the whole time!

- It isn't hypocritical for you to judge someone for reading a Dan Brown book on the train as long as you were embarrassed enough to remove the dust jacket when you read it on the train.

- Is this post just a long list of tweets?

- This town should look into changing its name.  This one too, now that I think about it.

- This was fun!

Feb 2, 2010

AFRAID OF THE HEAT

I know I promised you a post on foreign language coloquialisms, but with my lack of computer I've found myself watching even more TV, (though surprisingly, not spending any more time working out) and so, I came upon something about which I must speak, America's Worst Cooks

The show is on Food Network and it is, ostensibly, a show where professional chefs teach people who know nothing about cooking, how to cook, combined with an elimination competition.  I don't want to get too wrapped up in the actual details of the show because that's not the part that made me weep for humanity, but in short, every episode the contestants are given a tutorial and then a challenge.  The problem I envisioned for the show when I first saw the commerical was that it didn't seem like it could be all that entertaining.  Sure the first week you'd have a few people setting fire to themselves and boiling sushi, but really, how hard is it to follow a recipe?  They're just instructions afterall.  Would you watch a show called America's Worst Home Playground Constructers.  Ok, maybe you would, but would you watch it a second time? 

Clearly, the producers of this show realized this would be a problem because they didn't cast the worst cooks in America.  Sure, I grant you that these people are embarrassingly bad in the kitchen, but they aren't bad because they're bad cooks who don't understand flavor, they're bad because they are first and foremost America's most inept people in general.  Forget cooking, you could have made this a show about setting up a computer and three-quarters of this cast wouldn't get past opening the box.  There's a 27 year old 'homemaker' with three kids who apparently found making Ramen noodles beyond the realm of her abilities.  I don't mean to judge, but if your job is to stay home and take care of your kids and you can't even make a box of mac and cheese, you're not a homemaker, you're a babysitter, a bad babysitter! 

Another contestent on this COOKING show appears to be, and I kid you not, afraid of fire.  A third, after making a crepe that was too salty for the judges to actually eat, announced that she'd finally found her purpose in life and wanted to go to culinary school.  I don't even want to imagine just how bad she must have sucked at everything else in her life for her to confuse, 'complete failure' with, 'purpose in life'.  It would be like Custer sending off a messsage to the President during the battle of Little Big Horn saying, "Look Mr. President, I know this battle thing isn't going that great, but I have to say, considering my complete lack of talent, skill and intelligence, I'm actually surprised we're doing this well!  I'd like to pursue a career in this field."  Also there are a few old people who get confused any time instructions go beyond three sentences.

I don't mean to say the show isn't entertaining; watching the guy afraid of fire try and sneak up on the stove all quiet like was worth sitting through a commercial, but it still boils down to one thing. We like laughing at stupid people because it makes us feel better about ourselves.  So yeah, someone will win this competition and make food that rivals your mom's, but not because they learned to cook and others didn't.  The winner will prevail because they have the mental capacity to reason out for themselves that raw chicken will at some point need to be cooked.

Feb 1, 2010

REQUIEM FOR A NOTEBOOK

So I was all ready to write a rather fascinating piece on our usage of foreign language colloquialisms in everyday day speech when the fates interceded, as they tend to do whenever I finally find myself motivated, and killed my laptop.  I know I've written about customer service before and jokes about tech support from India are as overdone as Donnatella Versace, but I think the overall gestalt of the incident is different enough to merit its own post. As such, I've recreated, E-True Hollwood style, the chronology of events for your pleasure and edification. In order to increase ratings for this particular episode and your respect for me overall, I have embellished certain details not germane to the outcome of the story. I have bracketed these instances in the interested of full disclosure.

Saturday night/Sunday morning: [After staying out late all night having fun and doing stuff I came home and turned my laptop on to check my e-mail.].  After spending some hours [not watching porn] online, I went to put it to sleep when it decided to go all "You can't fire me I quit!" on me and froze, a classic Tscaichovsky opening.  I countered this ploy with the Mandrake defense, rebooting, confident said laptop would have forgotten my attempts to shut down its conscious computer mind and would awaken pliant and ready to be used for [things totally non-sports or porn related]. Instead, my opponent went to the mattresses and responded with the "I'm sorry, I can't" defense, allowing me to turn her on, but preventing me from accessing any of her fun parts by having the screen remain dark (I'll admit, in what may have been a moment of sexist weakness, that I had just assumed the artificial intelligence in my computer was male, but I think its clear by her behavior that this is the work of a female mind).  At this point I realized I was facing a real competitor and stepped up my game, unplugging the power cord and letting the battery drain on its own.  Then I went to bed and slept the uneasy sleep of a soldier in the theater of war.

Late Sunday Morning: After an early morning weekend dentist appointment (oddly enough that's actually true), I returned to the battlefield numb and and drooling.  [I was ready for a fight.]  Unfortunately, my laptop was done fighting and seemed content to go on living the life of a deaf mute, perhaps happy to spend her days contemplating the mysteries of the electronic universe.  Either way there wasn't much left to do so I but the bullet and called tech support. After spending 30 minutes giving Rajit my address SSN, blood type and genetic coding, he informed me that my warranty had expired, but, becuase I was such a long time and valued HP customer (I bought one laptop from them 22 months ago) I was eligible for a discounted service.  For only $99 they were willing to offer me all the telephonic tech support I could handle for one year or, for $49.99, I could get one time help on one issue. I asked Rajit exactly how he could help me over the phone given that the only button on my computer that did anything was the power button and I'd already tried that.  He assured me that here were many things he could do ("Trust me my friends, there is many, many things I can do for you."), but I remained skeptical that any of them were computer related [he did however offer me a great deal on a time share in New Delhi].

Sunday Afternoon: After several admittedly pointless restarts and pep talks ("Come on baby, you know you can do it, let daddy see your big beautiful screen."), I started calling every friend I have with a computer science degree (You'd think they'd be free all weekend, but, surprisingly, no.).  When this failed to yield any resluts I decided to try shame and put my laptop next to the basket I use for regular old snail mail.

Moday Morning: The denoument of this particular story comes about by backup free tech support guy.  It might not surprise the advanced among you but here it is anyway.

Me: Good morning, I hope I'm not interrupting anything important, but I was wondering if I could abuse our friendship and treat you as a resource to be mined.
Free Tech Support Guy: I'd love to say no, but of course I can't without looking like a major douche.
Me: Wonderful.  My laptop won't show me her goods.
FTSG: Have you tried buying her diamonds?
Me: I will not stand for sexual innuendo! Can we please focus?
FTSG: OK, your screen probably died.
Me: Died?  It wasn't even sick!
FTSG: Yeah, it happens.
Me: But two days ago she was all bright and working! Wouldn't she have faded slowly over time, like a senior citizen.
FTSG: No, it's more like Conan O'Brien and the Tonight show. One day you're on TV at 11:30 pm, the next you're sitting at home counting to 45 million.  Only you don't get any money and you'll have to buy a new screen.
Me: You know, even though this advice is free, I still feel like I got screwed.
LTSG: Thanks! That's what tech support is all about.  Now if I could just get your blood type and genetic coding...