Cyber-stalking, or just another day on Facebook?

So, I want to add a girl as friend on FB that I met 3 weeks ago at a bar, maybe 4, in the hopes that someday she'll be single and then we can date. Is this cool? or creepy? Or does the fact that facebook itself is inherently creepy negate that? Isn't it weird that we meet people now, don't get their number, but then add them as a "friend" the next day on an online social networking site? There's no pre-internet version of this--you either got someone's digits or you didn't. Well, I guess you could stalk them in class, if you were still in school, but Facebook seems acceptable, whereas following them around a school would be entirely out of control. Facebook has made a certain degree of sketchiness acceptable. We're all stalkers now.

And that's just the beginning. In the real world, you might never see this person again, but on Facebook, you can keep track of THEIR WHOLE LIVES with just a click. You used to meet someone and have them pass along, but now, you can monitor them forever. Nothing is let go, everyone is retained in some sort of weird rolodex that not only has their name and number but personality type, recent photos and relationship status updates.

Back to this girl, though. What can I really expect: that in a month or two she does break up with her current boyfriend, remembers that I friended her and hit me up for drinks? Or should I keep track and strike once she's single again, never talking in the meantime because we really don't have that much to go on? And doesn't that last option signifry that I should just let it go, and get digits next time? Alas.

Af-Pak

It is totally unfeasible, and insulting to the countries involved, but it would seem that the logical solution to the mess in Afghanistan and Pakistan would be to dissemble the two states and redraw them as three--Afghanistan, Pashtunistan, and Pakistan. Most of the world's problems with the the two states as currently configured is what is ethnically Pashtun-dominated land. The northwest section of Pakistan and southeastern section of Afghanistan are tribally Pashtun, just happen to be separated due to, once again, the lack of foresight and understanding by the British. If the world were to unify the region, and leave it alone, perhaps this would settle all disputes. We could say "This is your shithole. Govern it as you please. Just don't harbor any terrorists or bother the two adjoining states."

One would think that such an arrangement could never come to pass, but maybe we should let Pakistan collapse (while seizing control of their nuclear weapons), and then reform the area as outlined above. If you look at the conflicts in the area as an aspiration for Pashtun independence and self-determination, such a solution doesn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

Radiohead

I like Radiohead. They perfectly capture a mood. But it's a morose, pensive mood. So I like them, but I can't imagine going to a Radiohead concert. I can't picture people just up and dancing to "Karma Police" or another mopey song about loss. No one's gonna head bang or shake their arms and legs to "Fog". It's the type of music you don't want to be around others when you're listening to it, but rather sitting on the floor with your arms around your knees while wondering where she went.

Why I don't bang out more chicks that I could

Part 2. That bitch be crazy

In an ideal world, two people would lovingly come together, drunk, screw, and merrily be on their way. However, when you're a squirrelly little dude like myself, you have to talk, cajole, and weasel a lady into sleeping with you. This takes time and effort. And sometimes, when talking to a girl, you find out that she is totally insane. Or annoying. Or Christian. And wants to talk about it endlessly. And then, once doing the deed, sex with me often involves downtime. Perhaps a relationship is where you can actually deal with talking to the other person, in bed, without screwing.

As a result, like on Monday, I opt out of pursuing a chick. Maybe this is feasible in my world since my medications have stolen my sex drive. But I am still amazed at guys who can screw whatever, knowing full well they'll have to deal with them beforehand. It can be a lot of time spent with someone for what should be a 5 minute act, if she's lucky.

Why I don't bang out more chicks that I could

1. The Brian Haskell Rule

When I was studying in Paris junior year, I visited a friend studying in London. Over the course of one Saturday night, I hooked up with two of her big-tittied flatmates. (not at the same time, alas.) To this day, this feat is the highpoint of my sexual coups.

However, these two girls visited said friend back at Tufts the following semester, and had apparently put on some weight. As a result, several of my guy friends enjoyed tormenting me with the fact that I had hooked up with two fat chicks. Brian Haskell being one of them. I think they referred to them as "deuce, deuce-and-a-half".

As a result, when debating hooking up with a girl, I always worry that my friends would make fun of me for said chick. Or, if I was the friend, would I harrass them for hooking up with a chick who's gross or fat or pimply or smelly or looks like gonorrhea, taking into account that I am far crueler than any of my friends could ever be. (In my defense, though, I would like to point out that Brian's girlfriend senior year had a huge butt and I never said a word. Partially because either he or she could've beat me up.)

I think this is a valid consideration: Would I make fun of me for hooking up with this person? True, you can take beer goggles into account, and everyone needs a slumpbuster now and then, but if you were just a casual observer, and you'd point out that your hook-up made Star Jones look attractive, would you still hook up with her? Or would you just push aside those fat rolls and go for it, no matter the drubbing you'd take from your friends?

Gimme some candy!

I eat Snickers. Not only that, but I don't see th epoint of many other candies. Not just Baby Ruth, which are totally just Snicker-wannabe's. Milky Way's? That's like half a Snickers. Where's the point, when there's no peanuts? The peanuts round out the candy. And 3 Musketeers? That's like a third of a Snickers. Having a 3 Musketeers or a Milky Way is like eating crustless pizza--it's just so not close that it's not worth it. Please don't waste your money on Milky Way's...just put out Snickers for my dining pleasure.

Choices

Some girl clapped and laughed a little too enthusiastically at my set last night, so i actually went up and talked to her after the show. I would've gotten her number but
1. She was a bit kooky. and Christian. and a Christian minister in some church on the internet, which seems about as valid as University of Phoenix online. Becoming a minister should involve study, not something you can purchase with a credit card on a boring Saturday afternoon.
2. She had moustache issues. Not that she had a moustache, but her general musmash region looked over-plucked, which is scary for a girl of 27. I her upper lip doesn't exist anymore after she's 45, like there'll be a null void there and when you try to look at it you're sucked in.
3. I didn't want to ruin my chances with the delightful waitress at the bar. Although, I probably spent too much time talking to non-moustache girl to have a future chance with waitress. And she intimidates me due to a decent amount of ink. But she's just so cute and edgy, in a somewhat blase way. And, she has one of the rarer varieties of female beauty--she gets cuter the closer you look at her. Upon first glance, she's fine-blonde hair, cutish figure, nothing great. But look closer and Oh My God This Girl Is Delicious! It's hard to explain, and infrequent to find (I'm thinking of The Unicorn back in college) but is like seeing a rainbow after a season of rain. Has anyone else ever seen someone like this?

So, alas, another show, no poontang. But, tonight is Oxnard. Come on, fat chicks!

Greenie Wienies

I bet that if the environment could speak, it would kindly thank us for our support, but request that our lamest citizens not speak out on its behalf. I bet even other fat chicks would want earnest Hayden Panetierre on their side. The ironic fact that she protests on behalf of whales must piss them off immensely. I bet they're like, "We're fat enough as is. Couldn't a skinny, less douche-y celebrity help us out? She might eat all our krill."

Or Al Gore. Nice guy, but rather pathetic as a public figure. Doesn't really sound the alarm bells well. The environment would be in much better shape if someone like Roseanne Barr, or an undeceased Sam Kinison imploring us to use less fossil fuels. (Actually, any undead would be cool--you would totally do what a zombie said, lest it eat your brains.) Al Gore's so boring it makes me want to use more oil and gas. Roseanne Barr would spur me into action, if only to appease her.

It's just that environmental activists are such pests that it makes it hard to support their causes. It always seemed like the Greenpeace kids were exactly the ones you'd avoid speaking to at a party anyways, and now they want to mail you stuff. Even other attempts by the greens were cheesy--anyone remember Captain Planet? That show was so bad it made me want to club a seal.

Look, I support their cause. And I'm happy that the world is finally coming around. Just find edgier spokespeople. Or at least give me the option that for every $10 I donate, I get to pour pig's blood over some doody-dreds-haired hippie vegan. That, I could totally get behind.

Scary

One of my co-workers has the greatest gig in the world. I think he's supposed to be filing, but instead he spends his afternoon reading the Bible. or possibly a dictionary, but I'm pretty sure it's the Bible. Which is ingenious because I can't see a boss complaining about his Jesus studying; they'd probably be afraid that they'd be infringing on his First Amendment rights. The only thing craftier, and slightly more frightening, would be if he spent three hours every day polishing a gun.

I saw PimpleBeard ManGirl yesterday on the Lot. I find her fascinating, because she has an alarming number of pimples where a dude would have a beard. And she's a bit mannish, like she was meant to be a dude but two X's got together, but her body's fighting that and hence made a beard of pimples. Plus, she looks very soccer-y, like she didn't just play college soccer but somehow her whole being became infused with it. She just would look more appropriate in Umbro-esque shorts and cleats than a pair of jeans. I guess some people are very distinct, like DragonFoxFace girl. She had a face that looked like a cross between a dragon and a fox. No second date there. And, no I don't think i'll ask out PimpleBeard ManGirl--she frightens me. I want to be the one with the wiener.

Boalt Hall-itis

Someday, when I'm talented, I'm going to write a novel detailing the lives of nine 20-somethings all debating going to law school. Why nine? It sounded like a good interesting number. And they'd all be in different places--someone in publishing in New York, a screenwriter in LA, an aid worker based in DC. All debating throwing in the towel for something vaguely interesting and assured of getting them a big house in the suburbs. And not the suburbs of Cleveland, but somewhere respectable.

I'm convinced that unless your talent lies in the sciences, either Bio or Computer, you end up debating law school. It's the default career choice of my generation, and if you disagree, check out the listings in Super Lawyers---it's daunting how many people there are JD's. And that's ignoring all who get their JD but go into Finance, or Records Admin, or something vaguely related that having a law background fascilitates.

Not sure where I read it, but somewhere someone pointed out if you were talented with English but have no strong inclination of what you want to do, you'll end up a lawyer. Or at least debating becoming a lawyer. I think the writer was speaking specifically of women who were good with English as students. It's nice to think that our society needed a place for aspiring young smartees, and hence became so litigious so as to give them a place in the world. And lawyering seems made for women--even if you stop-out to have a kid, you can still bill some hours working for your old company. And there's always contracts to go back to once the young'un's are in school.

Being a lawyer has a certain cache in our society, if you ignore all the cheesy jokes thrown at it. It involves schooling, and being smart, and a nice high salary. If all else fails, there's always Boalt Hall, or UC Hastings. Or if you're like me, there's always the debate that the last default would be to move back home with Mom and Dad and go to UCONN law down the street. And then you can wipe away the errors of your twenties, the start-up in San Fran where you did PR, the year.5 in LA trying to act, the realization that saving starving Africans is nice but you don't eat that much yourselves and you always liked having a Lexus after all. Eventually reality hits and you're no longer content to have roommates at 32 and would like to have a couch that 4 friends didn't own beforehand. And you liked reading and writing in school so you could totally do it as a career. And it's harder now than when you're parents were young, so if you wanted to have a decent standard of living, someone's going to have to study. Plus, you console yourself with the knowledge that you'll do pro bono on the side and help the poor and disenfranchised. It's a win-win!

I wonder if these people regret this decision, or if you resign yourself that life is a pick-your-battles sort of affair and that having a well-paying job lets you enjoy other aspects of life. Perhaps this is what brings people to opening salumeria's, or a small goat farm, or working at a green start-up; they've made enough money by 40 but still have the urge to start a fresh, and not in a midlife crisis, buy a ferrari sort of way. Attorney as second act before real pursuit.

Does anyone know if this is similar in other developed world countries? Are lost young Frenchies going to law school, and spaniards and Brits? Do they have a default occupation that's different? I feel like young Brits all go into publishing or finance; is this true? And are there Egyptians, and Indians and Singaporean parents telling their children that some day, they too can be paper pushers like their American counterparts? And what does it mean that humanity, when it achieves a certain level of comfort, is content to file and contract itself into posterity? Will we never explore the solar system because we're too busy filing the patents for the latest shuttle? Ah, progress.

I'm Jewish, hence I can't I go to jail

I have a fix-it ticket that is lingering around, threatening awful consequences. Mainly increased fees, but it did dredge my deep fear of prison. I've watch Gangland: I wouldn't last an hour in there. It makes me think of Milhouse's classic line, "I can't go to Juvie: they'll use me as currency in there!"

However, I do feel pretty safe, in that I'm Jewish. I believe that if push came to shove, the Elders of Zion would totally step in and talk to the judge. Or another judge. Or another judge--I can't imagine that you'd have to go through more than three judges to hit a Jew. We're Jews, we have an image to uphold. We can't be sent to prison like a common white person.

Oh, and back to this ticket: now it's with "Collections" which incites images of broken-teethed men coming to my door to take my couch. (It's actually a smelly futon no one uses, so that'd be fine.) Again, I think Collections only happens to poor people in rural Pennsylvania. Maybe that's why we Jews put Mizzuzzah's on our doors, so that the Repo man knows that they can't mess with the occupants.

Meanwhile, car's still broken, but should be fixed tomorrow. I'm having the nice Mexican at Pep Boys take care of it--Juan? Felix? He said he went by both, which doesn't do much for traditional stereotypes of "you all have the same four names!" And then, back home to make chicken soup.

Traffic Hall

I have no idea what to call where I just went to deal with a ticket. Traffic Hall? Municipial Court seems misleading, as I wasn't before a judge but rather before a cranky clerk-lady behind a counter. City Hall? Meh. Here are my Traffic Hall thoughts:

1. Couple in scrubs registered to get married. Cute, but made me extremely jealous. They should be sharing the wealth, as opposed to concentrating it. I'd like a house someday too.

2. Some guy in line, when speaking with the clerk, tried to use "The Economy" as a way of bargaining down his ticket. 1. This is some civil functionary---she can't change the ticket. And 2. That excuse would hence work everywhere. Do you try this at the grocery store as well?

3. Do cranky people naturally gravitate toward crappy civil clerk jobs, or were they once nice people worn down by dealing with idiots over the years? Did they take a career questionnaire in high school that said, "You a disagreeable, bitter person. Have you thought about working at the DMV?" Does this ever come up during the interview process? "You seem to like your fellow human too much...perhaps customer service is not for you."

4. I don't need a woman as sultry as Fiona Apple. I know this doesn't really relate, but it's what Pandora's thrown at me at the moment.

Facebook Status Update

Many people don't understand the sheer awkwardness of their status updates. Let me try to explain. Think of a status update as something you'd say in a group of people at a party. It should be an announcement that could start a conversation, that no one would be confused by. The following are logical status updates:

"I watched Transformers last night and feel that Megan Fox is trailer trash pretty, like she's hot but has at least one close sibling cooking meth somewhere."
"[David Rosenberg] can't believe people are mourning Michael Jackson. Don't they know he was a pedophile?"
"Who wants to go to the Frog this weekend?"

All logical, and would emit logical responses from the other listeners/readers, like "Yes, she looks like gonorrhea" or "No, we never score bitches at the Frog."

On the flip side, here are examples of updates that are meant for ONE INDIVIDUAL, not all of Facebook to know how lame you are:
"Why do you hurt me?"
"My illusion of you is better than the reality of you."

Both of those comments are directed at one person, whoever the "you" is. Just send them a frickin message. If you want the whole world to know that someone hurt you, then go all-balls-out and name them, like "why'd you hurt me, Jason?" Otherwise, it's just quizzical and annoying.

Here's another one:
"So... does this mean that I won? :-P"

This is a question that only one person can answer. The rest of the world doesn't care. Part of the problem with Facebook is that it convinces people that everyone finds them interesting and would like to know what they're doing at all times. However, most people are not interesting, and even those who are need to be a bit more descriptive. The above quote has no descriptive nouns in it, so how am I supposed to know what it meant.

Back to: "My illusion of you is better than the reality of you." This is supposed to go to one person, because it's just about them. Also, it's extremely lame and should only be uttered maybe late at night or in the middle of a fight. If you send this as a status update, people will wonder why you're clogging up their facebook feed with crappy, sentimental faux-poetry. These thoughts are best kept to oneself.

Understood? Now try not to be so cheesy.

Why I need a girlfriend, reason Number X of millions

My three closest friends in LA are all leaving town this weekend. Which leaves me with nothing to do Saturday night. I can't even go hang out with C at her bar, because she's one of the one's going away, and she NEVER travels. Hence, I need a girlfriend so that I can have default plans.

Having plans on a Saturday night has to be one of my top overriding concerns since age 14. It's caused me to gain and lose friendships, juggle options, and fret constantly. Why? Because having NO plans for that evening would imply dorkhood, and as a former dork, that is my deepest fear (alongside touching homeless people).

"Why don't you just have Me-time?" some of you self-assured folk might ask. Because, I don't like me enough to spend that much time with me. Especially at the most social moment of the week.

So, I need a girlfriend. That way, you still have someone to hang out with, even if it's just loafing around the house. You can't be a dork because you convinced another human to be your ultimate back-up friend. And, they're nice to squeeze.

Starting out in comedy

I got some good advice when I first started, so i'll just pass it along. I'm not all that good myself, and I constantly remind myself of these points to get better. In no particular order (#3 is really the most important):
1. You're gonna suck for at least the first two years. It blows, but get used to it. You just gotta plow through. It takes years to transfer what you can do offstage onto the stage. It's frustrating, but there it is.

2. Don't show yourself too early. Don't showcase for agents, etc, until you're amazing, or else you'll just set yourself back. I've head many comics talk about doing a really important show early, blowing it, and not being able to book something similar for the next two years.

3. Go up as much as you can. Then go up even more. If you think you've hit a lot of mic's this week, hit two more. Guys in New York, and even a few in LA, perform 15 times a week. And it shows. You get better with every set you do.

4. Go up wherever you can. Even if it's a shitty coffee shop full, or even empty of other comics. It's all practice.

5. Find a writing partner. They can offer tags or help you restructure whole jokes, and working on their jokes will make you a better writer. Plus, you can keep each other motivated.

6. Don't shit on the room. Or the host. Or the producer. At least not while you're there. If you were good enough to be playing a better stage, you would be.

7. Keep your shit-talking to a minimum. I struggle with this constantly. It's easy to get bitter and jealous and bitch about how much so-and-so sucks, but eventually it'll get back to them and they might be booking a room you want to play in. Plus, you look like a dick. And, if you're not great yourself, you can easily get called on it.

A friend sent along the linked below article for me to read. I was excited, since it involved a topless redhead (bottomless would've been better. mmm, firecrotch). Thoughts are below:

1. this proves my theory on topless beaches--it's never the people you'd want to see naked. mostly old, mostly unattractive

2. maybe for this shy girl it took courage, but honestly, how privileged are you when the most daring thing you can think of doing is to take your top off for an afternoon in a very liberal city in the summer? seriously, if this girl had ever faced any hardships in her life, she would've passed on this assignment as beneath her. look at how experimental i am! stupid yuppie. in a world where women are forced to cover themselves from head to toe, and are burned with acid for disobeying a man's wishes, i am not impressed by her audacity. booji, yuppie wuss.

3. Also, check out the pictures. Inn the body of the article itself, they display the author's image. she's a 6. but in the picture in the heading, they obviously got a model, who, while not showing her face or tasty bits, has a much more attractive figure. Despite Nerve's pretenses of loving love in all its shapes and sizes, they still resort to classic concepts of beauty to lure people in.

I posted my first point onto the comments section of the article. Unfortunately, no one's replied yet.
http://www.nerve.com/regulars/ididitforscience/topless-in-the-park/

Below please find my guidelines for existence in Hollywood. I am wise, I contain multitudes. Rule

#1: Don't touch the celebrities. They bite. They don't like to be hassled, especially when at the mall with their kids, eating dinner with the husband, or getting into their car. The only time one should ever approach a celebrity is at a specified Celebrity-Signing Event--your red carpets, premiere parties, etc. Otherwise, just leave them alone. They're not going to give you a job. They already know that people love their movies: their paychecks say so. Having them in a photo in front of Pinkberry makes you look like a Starfucker from Hicksville.

Also, IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO RULE #1. Don't sleep with celebrities! They're fuckin' crazy! Didn't you see Showgirls? Remember how the black chick spends the whole movie saying how this singer is her all-time favorite, then she meets him AND HE AND HIS THREE BODYGUARDS GANG RAPE HER?! They'll do that, every time. Girls too. And this doesn't even get into my theory that all celebrities go Bi at some point, simply to try something new.

Rule #2. It's a tough town--you do what you gotta. A friend of mine turned down a commercial gig because he found it demeaning to his people. Good lord, after 5 years here, you could dress me up in a Hitler outfit for a SAG card! This is LA, people. It's not about morals. And it's definitely not about artistic integrity--take that to an Off-Off-Broadway stage in Scarsdale. Only the sick survive here. If someone tells you to suck dick for a three episode arc, you grab your headshots and lip gloss. There's work to do.

Rule #3. Be happy for your friends. No one ever got a job because their friend threw in the hotel and moved back to Kansas to teach high school English. True, a constant state of low-grade jealousy is endemic to Los Angeles, but do try to be happy for others' success. It'll make gettign through your day much easier. Plus, if nothing else, talking shit will eventually get back to them, and then you'll be the one teaching English somewhere awful.

Rule #4. If you haven't been to their house, you can't refer to a celebrity by their first name only. No, "Zach was great in that movie!" or "Amy makes me laugh so hard!" Otherwise, you sound like a poser.