Duvet-induced double nighttime showers

I'm writing this in a state of clammy dismay.

Why clammy?

Because I just spent 30 minutes crawling around the inside of a duvet cover.

Why dismay?

Because spending 30 minutes crawling around the inside of a duvet cover is dismaying. Also, because I was reminded by these activities that I own and utilize a duvet cover.

I'm rather embarrassed about it, actually. Single men in their 20's should not be sleeping underneath anything that contains a silent "t." I think my mother bought it for me years ago. I thought you wanted me to stay a child forever, mom.

Returning a down comforter to its duvet cover should not be a one man (or woman) job. While trying to justify my world record longest time of 30 minutes might be futile, I bet I'd be hard pressed to find someone who can do it in under 10. To this day I still have not developed a good strategy. I must physically venture into the muggy darkness of the duvet cover, where my blind attempts at filling in all the spaces with down leave me lost, scared, and confused.

...and a sweaty mess. All because I decided to wash my sheets - what a silly decision that was. I may never do it again.

While that last statement is of course a joke, it is at the same time deadly serious. 

Here's why. 

I'm a night shower-er. I've always been a night shower-er, and it's only kind of shower-er I will ever be. Day shower-ers have to deal with the distressing shock that comes with being struck by water while still in early-morning zombie sate. They also have to get up earlier in the morning. While they shower, I sleep. 

As a night-shower-er, I rarely ever crawl into bed without having been thoroughly bathed 2 hours prior at most. This being the case, I submit my sheets can never get dirty. Every night they receive a freshly lathered, squeaky clean specimen. My bed-wetting days are long gone, and any oils/greases that exit my pores during the night are freshly produced, clean oils/greases, because the old, dirty oils/greases have just been lathered away. In summary, I believe this is justification for never washing my sheets, ever. 

I know what you're thinking - "no wonder he's single." Perhaps, but at least I get another hour of sleep while the day shower-ers are scrubbing away just to go out into the filthy world once again. 

I just got way off topic. This was supposed to be about duvet covers.

Oh well, let's embrace the tangent.

Now that today's installment of duvet cover madness is all over, I suppose the only reason I'm still fairly flustered is that, because of the sweaty activities I just detailed, I have to take another shower - my second shower of the day (night).
 
Along with being a night-shower-er, I'm also a one shower a day...-er. I HATE taking two showers for several reasons.

For one, two showers a day means the use of two clean pairs of underwear a day. This means halving the time between two consecutive laundry days, which is a major problem. 

Additionally, two showers a day means I use twice as much shampoo, which doubles the frequency of having to buy more. Is there anything more daunting than making a decision in the shampoo aisle? The temptation to try a new brand is often overwhelming, but if you make a mistake, you're screwed every single day (in this case twice a day) for however many days that bottle lasts. 

Also, how exactly does one know what "type" of hair one has?

Dry? Well yeah, as long as I'm not in the shower... 
Oily? Depends on how long it's been since I've showered... 
Coarse? If I feel each hair individually, yeah... 
Soft? I've never felt someone's head and thought they had hard hair...
Damaged? Is that after a haircut...?  
Thick or thin? How is that even measured? Is it by ease of movement of one's hand through one's hair? If so, wouldn't curly always be thick and straight always be thin...? 
Normal? What does normal hair mean?? Is normal the absence of all the above? Presence of all the above...? 

To me it seems my hair is all these things depending on the conditions. 

Buying shampoo just sucks, and I would like to avoid it for as long as humanly possible, which means one shower a day, at most.

I have one more shower comment:

Does anyone else think exercising in the shower is a great idea? You're naked, constantly being sprayed with water, and immediately after you're done you can take a shower! It would save people so much time. This idea is still in preliminary stages, but I think someday I might try to invent one of those all-in-one workout machines designed for the shower.

That's all.

Because no one has ever done airport humor, part II

I am very disappointed with Southwest Airlines. They've implemented a new seating system which is really pretty awful, and I would like to discuss it here in hopes that someone less lazy than me starts a petition. 

For those who don't know, the super hip new idea is to get rid of seating assignments, and instead assign each passenger a boarding "zone," and once your zone is called you can embark and sit wherever you want on the plane. Wherever you want?! That sounds GREAT! Imagine the possibilities! On the surface yes, but when you get down to it, all the possibilities provide problems... 

In such close quarters, you can't help but care deeply about what the people you are going to be sandwiched between for a matter of hours look like. This causes a shift from racial profiling at security to facial profiling on the plane. 

You find yourself slowly wandering down the aisle, no particular destination in mind, looking left then right, scanning faces, as if you're trying to spot a suitable life partner. You want to sit by people who look friendly and happy (but not so much so they are going to talk to you - I hate airplane small talk, I just want to sleep), not irritated and mean - no one likes that energy on a plane. You need to avoid people who look like potential armrest hogs, window hogs, sweaty hogs, snorers, vomiters, loud eaters, open sneezers, short short-wearers, frequent pee-ers, tomato juice drinkers, smelly farters and heavy perspire-ers. All of this makes you feel like a bad person because you're judging people by how they look, but you were forced into it by Southwest and their need to be different.  

What if the only two seat options left are next to a fat guy or next to a skinny guy? Now you feel like a jerk for picking the skinny guy and reminding the fat guy that he's fat and no one wants to sit with him! And what if the seat you want is right next to an attractive member of the opposite sex? Then, if you sit there, you're labelled by them and everyone else as one who shamelessly hits on complete strangers at any and every opportunity. You don't want this label (even if it is an accurate one) so you are forced to choose another seat just because this person got assigned a higher boarding zone than you and happens to be attractive. How did Southwest not think of these potential issues before implementing this disaster? Just put me in a seat! If I don't like it I'll just have to deal, rather than sit for 4 hours in deep regret of my decision to park myself next to the guy who settles on clipping his fingernails all over my tray table as an appropriate airplane activity (seriously, it happened to me, and one clipping flew into my ginger ale).

Don't go book your flight on Southwest thinking it all only starts at boarding. Oh no, it begins at the gate where you are forced to line up like prisoners by boarding zone and by number within said boarding zone, and you must do so according to a series of very confusing numbered columns and partitioning TV screens. You are not aware of other passengers' boarding zone numbers and so if you want to line up numerically according to Southwest seating policy, you must creepily peak at your fellow zone patron's boarding passes, or ask them what their numbers are, to which they look at you like you're a nutcase, to which you realize you are a nutcase for asking, which leads you to believe Southwest views all their customers as nutcases.

If you want to write the petition, feel free to use any of the above material.

And what's the deal with window people? Why on EARTH would you ever want the window seat if you are over the age of 12? Have you ever had the window seat and had to pee? Do you not feel any remorse at all for making two separate people have to close their book, take off their headphones, unbuckle their seat belt, lift their drink, put their book, headphones and drink in their lap, lift their tray table, partly stand up, balance their items on their seat, fully stand up, and step out into the aisle? By the time they repeat all the above steps in reverse order to sit back down, you're back from your precious pee and they have to do it all over again. And what if they're sleeping? Is there anything more awkward than waking up a stranger? I think every seat on an airplane should also be a toilet, so that window people can sit at their little window and not be a nuisance.  

Window people...

It's not like you can see anything out there for 95% of the flight anyway. The only advantage I can think of is that you can lean on the window. I suppose that's something.

I'm an aisle kind of guy myself. I like to lean heavily on my own personal outside armrest (all others are fought over viciously), and stretch my legs out. That's right, I'm one of those guys who leans into the aisle. Flight attendants hate me, but it's ok because it's their job to pretend that they like me anyways, and I'm very easily convinced by fake nice attitudes. Also, I've mastered the art of sleeping but still being fully aware when the drink cart is coming. I've had far too many bruised shoulders and run-over toes to ever be 100% unconscious on a plane.

That's all I have on air travel for now. 

Does anyone else get the feeling my blog should really be called, "First World Problems?"

Because no one has ever done airport humor, part I

My uncle embarrassed himself in drastic fashion by beginning to de-pants in front of hundreds of queued air travelers at airport security. The bad news (from a comedy standpoint) is that his wife was there to stop him before he unknowingly exhibited full consent to strip search. The good news is he's not alone.

Eventually, everyone who flies will do something stupid at airport security, and, eventually, everyone will scoff at someone else and think, "I would never do anything that stupid at airport security." In the aforementioned case, my uncle's instinct kicked in, instinct that has been honed through decades of taking off his own garments and that dictates step two after removal of the belt is removal of the pants. Apparently this instinct takes effect regardless of current location, but you can't really blame a guy for being that ultra-habituated to airport lines. Such pardon can't be afforded to certain others.

Can we start with the TSA haters? Listen, I know personal privacy is a hot button issue these days, but an even bigger issue is me plummeting to earth in a metal fireball after a crazy person gets through security with an explosive strapped too close to his ding-dong for a TSA agent to detect it by pat down. I say pat down more ding-dongs. To make it easier on discomfited patrons, the TSA's new slogan can be: "It's more embarrassing for us than it is for you!" And you know what? I'll take my .000000001% higher chance of getting cancer in the new millimeter wave scanners if it they provide me even 1% more peace of mind that my transatlantic trip from A to B does not involve crashing into the C. 

Of course the TSA isn't perfect, but what better way is there to run security? Should we start flat-out profiling people like they do in the middle east? Israel's form of airport security entails a large Israeli soldier staring at you as you stand in line, and he is trained to detect that single drip of nervous sweat that falls down your face, and if that face happens to be Arab, you get questioned. I'm sure all the people that think pat downs are a huge inconvenience would love that treatment!

On a lighter note, there's nothing I quite enjoy more than waiting my turn at security, and watching the woman in front of me with 18 rings, 6 bracelets, 62 earrings, and a metal-studded belt try and get through the metal detector:

     BEEP BEEP BEEP!

               TSA agent: "Mam, please remove your jewelry."
               Woman: "My rings too?"
               TSA agent: "All jewelry mam."

     BEEP BEEP BEEP!

               TSA agent: "Mam, did you remove all your jewelry?"
               Woman: "Even my bracelets?"
               TSA agent: "Are they metal?"
               Woman: "Yes."
               TSA agent: "All jewelry please."

     BEEP BEEP BEEP!

              TSA agent: "Mam, do you have anything in your pockets?"
              Woman: "Just a few quarters! This is an intrusion of my privacy!"
              TSA agent: "Please take everything out of your pockets."

     BEEP BEEP BEEP!

              TSA agent: "Mam, your toe ring..."

It goes on and on like this until the agent is forced to perform a thorough pat down, during which he fills half a dozen bowls with various metal objects, which the woman ironically forgets to reclaim as she storms off to her flight in complete and utter disgust.

Speaking of complete and utter disgust, I am now going to employ one of those really annoying "to be continued" tricks, because otherwise this would be way too long and frankly who wants to read long blog posts?

Stay tuned for part II.

The Ballad of Costa Rica

There are certain families of five

who doubtlessly never should drive

through a far foreign land filled with jungles and sand

luck be to make it alive

Replace coffee machines with rice and beans

roads with potholes and dirt

sun is expected but still not respected

prepare pale skin to be burnt

Here there are creatures unseen in the states

big scary lizards and venomous snakes

Curious crabs will crawl on your hand

but worst of all in this dangerous land...

Coca Cola is not

the only form of bubbling crapola

Laughter ensues and an ego is bruised

while samples of 'selfies' are being perused

Life on vacation is after all simple

joy can be felt from a single pimple

Big ocean waves are a stressed father's foe as he sits alone in worry

all the while angry fists rain down on his bathroom door with fury

Fathers are worried while sisters are hurried

for dinner downstairs awaits

but still they are primping not thinking of skimping

they'll never leave hairdos to fate

Fathers are worried while sisters are hurried

while mothers scurry about

collecting those things other families don't bring

this mom leaves nothing in doubt

Fathers are worried while sisters are hurried

while mothers scurry about

but brothers and sons just want to have fun

so they take a different route:

Don't worry it's fine

Don't hurry there's time

Don't scurry to rhyme

even when one is available

A tipping point

I was at a fancy restaurant the other night, and it got me thinking about tipping (because, why wouldn't it?).

I don't at all understand some of the concepts behind tipping. Particularly, I don't see why tip amount is based on price of the bill. It's not as if service gets better as the food does. The following example illustrates my point: if Sally orders a $7.00 burger and tips 20%, and Tom orders a $25.00 filet mignon at the same restaurant, also tipping 20%, Tom will tip the server $3.60 more than Sally for the exact same amount of food. Yes, Tom's meal was of greater quality, but it's not any more work for the server to bring him his plate. The server doesn't deserve more from Tom, and it's unfair that society would berate him for not tipping more than Sally for identical service.

If it was commonplace to tip chefs, then this would all make sense. Better food often equals better culinary abilities, so a chef at a nice restaurant would probably deserve more. But, we don't tip chefs, we tip servers. And it's madness.

My only hypothesis is very elementary, and it's that a more expensive bill might mean more items served, which means more work for the server. But this hypothesis only holds weight if all items on a menu are the same price. What kind of bizarro world would that be?

Someone really screwed up with this concept.

The Disney delusion

Watching Disney movies was a hallmark of most childhoods that took place after the advent of the VHS tape. As impressionable young tykes, we soaked up all of the delicious morality and life lessons Mr. Disney threw our way, and now, as adults, we subconsciously use them to guide our own lives.

Maybe that's why the world is such a crappy place.

Thinking back to the magic of Walt Disney, I notice some not so magical things about many of the characters he creates and the messages they convey in their animated worlds.

Let's have a look, shall we?

Firstly, Sleeping Beauty (and Snow White. Could they really not think of two different plots for these chicks? Both princesses, both put into deep sleep by witches, both awoken by the kiss of a prince - come on, Disney.). This beautiful princess taught us guys that it's OK to do sensual things to a girl while she's sleeping. Let me tell you something Sleeping Beauty, if I were to kiss a girl I thought was pretty while she was asleep, and she wasn't my girlfriend or wife, I would end up in jail. Times have changed since the 16th century, yeah? If that movie were made today, the plot would be different. It would be called "Blackout Beauty," and it would take place at a frat house. A tempting but potent cocktail (perhaps an Apple Martini?) administered by a fraternity brother with ill-intent puts Blackout Beauty into a deep stupor. Unlike the real movie, she is not pleased with the man who awakens her, nor with how he does it.

Also, Snow White makes children weary of apples. Parents have enough trouble trying to get their kids to eat fruit, we don't need your help Walt.

Moving on to good ol' Cinderella. This story is not only full of misleading messages, but it's rife with inaccuracies. Let's start with the really irritating one; I'm sorry, but glass slippers?? I don't care if they were made by a fairy godmother, those things would break immediately. That actually would have made a far more entertaining plot - Cinderella breaks a slipper on her first step out the door, then out of anger she uses the ragged edges to cut her jeering step-sisters. Hey, if we're gonna teach kids bad lessons we might as well teach them to take matters into their own hands instead of mope around all day sulking about their unfortunate circumstances. I mean really, who doesn't have to deal with obnoxious family members? So your step-sisters are giving you a hard time. So you have an annoying cat. So you have to do janitorial work. Welcome to the real world Cindy, learn to cope.

And what sort of forensic techniques are being put to use in this movie? After the ball, Prince Charming wants to find out who the forgotten glass slipper belongs to so he...goes door to door accosting womens' feet?! Is that really logical step #1? And why does he even have to bother putting the slipper on everyone?? Shouldn't he remember the face of the woman with whom he just danced the night away and fell in love with?! Objectifying women!! And why is the slipper even still in existence?? The rest of Cindy's outfit disappeared at midnight vis-à-vis the fairy godmother's spell, which is why Cindy had to run home in the first place! It makes NO sense that one slipper survives!! Too convenient Mr. Disney. Too convenient and too easy.


Whew, I got a little worked up there. I get upset when fairy tales aren't realistic.


Then there's Beauty and the Beast. I'll give Mr. Disney some credit; the "don't judge a book by its cover" lesson is a good one for children to learn. Unfortunately, it backfired big time. The movie ended up teaching us that if you're ugly you can still get the girl...as long as you live in a luxurious mansion nestled deep in a peaceful forest, complete with rose petal-covered beds and talking chinaware that sets itself. And you can see how this has been translated today - how many old, wrinkly, ugly, but rich men do you see running around with gorgeous women? A lot. Thanks for that Belle, you gold digger.


And what is with the ending to this movie? The beast turns back into a handsome man? Really?? So girls, basically, if you pretend to love an ugly guy for what he is on the inside, just for awhile, you'll end up with a hot one in the end anyway. Again, thanks Belle.


So many other Disney movies, so many delusions, so little time. I'll save some more for another rant.


I'll leave you with a nice little surprise the animators of Little Mermaid left for us. Pay attention to the priest's crotchal region.  Do not tell me these people were in it for the kids. If you're interested, here are some more such "subliminal messages" found in Disney movies.

This is sick

I'm stuck at home today because I'm sick. (I hope you just enjoyed my most personal statement ever in this blog). That being the case, I'm bored. When I'm bored, I think. When I think, it's usually about something ridiculous. And when it's about something ridiculous, I put it in my blog - the process of a genius.

I am currently deep in thought about my habit of personifying inanimate objects. It's something I do a lot, and in the spirit of being sick and bored, it's something I'm going to do a lot right now.

Whenever I'm sick I imagine what is going on inside my body. As a graduate student in Biology with a particular emphasis in Immunology (it must be the sickness that is making me divulge all this personal information), I have a fair idea of what's actually happening. However, I can't help but apply an element of imagination like I did when I was 12. It's much more entertaining that way. In the case of my current cold, I'm picturing a battlefield.......

Day 1 - breach

Head-quarters receives reports of a breach. Information from the field indicates heavy enemy artillery, and activation of major pain sensors in the throat. Initial units of immunity at Operating Bases Mouth and Nostril have been defeated. Numerous surface salivary divisions reporting casualties.    

Day 2 - proliferation

Full-on assault confirmed. Enemy identified: the Germ-ans. Abundance of infected cells in the throat which looks to be the main target. Specialty forces are deployed. Attack must be contained.

Day 3 - spread

Containment failed. Enemy forces have advanced north from initial point of attack. Mass mucosal response causes congestion in nasal pathways. Allied soldiers from 102nd Sudafed divisions are recruited, while Nyquil special forces conduct stealth ops during the night. Major battles now rage in throat and nose.

Day 4 - strategy  

Nasal passages are now main battleground. Airways are completely locked down - nothing in or out. Forces in northern chest await briefing on possible coughing maneuvers to keep the enemy away from important GI targets.

Day 5 - resistance

Coughing strategy confirmed, as mucosal divisions are forced down into northern chest. The germ-ans have almost completely shifted their attack to regions north and south of the throat. The voice of the commander is growing faint, as every available immune unit is recruited to defeat the invaders.

Day 6 - decline 

Battles rage on, and the tide begins to shift. Mucosal forces triumphantly retreat from nasal passages, allowing a return to normal airflow. The commander is completely silent through the day, as such violent battle takes its toll. Remaining germ-ans are easily expelled by coughing maneuvers, and damage to the throat is repaired by external tea-aid.

Day 7 - recovery

All signs indicate victory, but regiments in the nose continue training maneuvers for the whole day. Coughing persists to ensure the removal of remnant invaders.

We have once again defeated the germ-ans.

The following battles are said to have been the turning points of the war:

 Battle of the Bulge-ing Uvula

 The Boogie Offensive

 Battle of Hack-in-away

       
Is this borderline delirium?

Boy do I hope I get better soon.....