Friends

Friends.

 

Everyone has them. Everyone wants them. Everyone needs them.

I have been doing without one for some time and have decided that I want one. I am going to use all the things I have learned about friends from television. Sure, it will be a hard task but I am sure there is someone out there who is willing to do the work.

I know what you are thinking, that I should be doing the work to make it happen. If you know me than you know that is not going to happen.

“If you want a friend, you have to be a friend.” People say this but my question is, how can you be a friend if you don’t have any friends.?That is like trying to make spaghetti when you don’t have any pasta.

Back to what I have learned about friends from TV:

First, everyone in a group has a role. My role would be the sarcastic one who has a mean streak. I would always be there with a quick quip that mocks what other people say or do. This would not be a stretch for me since I do this anyway.  I hope I am not the kooky one who always makes the oddest comments that no one understands. I probably am, though.

Every group hangs around in one spot and they always spent most of their time there. Work be damned. I am going to hang out with my friends.

Children change the group dynamic but these children are rarely seen.

Arguments are funny. So is impotence.

The people that need therapy the most never get it.

Everyone in the group is sexually compatible since they all keep changing partners.

People do the right thing in the end. I would love to emulate this even though I have no idea what the right thing to do is. So, I plan on continue doing the right thing for the one person that really, truly matters: me.

Acceptance is a right. Even when you are wrong, people accept you.

Lastly, I want to find my best friend in the group and I want that person to be female, since TV always teaches us these two people end up together. Look at “Friends” and “X-Files.” Of course, it wouldn’t hurt if she looked like Gillian Anderson but that is not the most important thing.  

I would like to think I have had best friends but they keep asking who I am, how I got their number and why I am calling them. Questions like that never really get answered on TV shows and never really lead to restraining orders. Without TV to tell me what to do in these situations, I am lost. TV has failed me in certain aspects. I am shocked. In reality, I am not invited to join groups but, like Groucho Marx said, “I would never join a group that would have me as a member.” He also said “Once I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas Ill never know.” I am not sure how far I should take his advice.

Begging doesn’t help since every time I announce I need a friend the entire room clears out in a matter of seconds. My need for a friend starts riots. I am going to start one now. I need a friend. Who wants to volunteer (yes, I hear the crickets)?

Valentine's Day

Another holiday is fast approaching and I hate it. Many people have stated this is purely a commercial holiday and aren't they all nowadays? Name the last time retailers of some sort don't use a holiday to promote sales or merchandise that supposedly fits the holiday spirit. This is one holiday that is narrow in focus. You have to be in a relationship to enjoy this holiday which is why I have always broken up with someone when we get close to February 14th.

I have a clean record and have never celebrated this holiday. There have been some close calls but no, I have never had a significant other on this day. Does this make me wise? Does this mean I can see further than other men? Does this mean I know how to avoid the traps this holiday brings?

Absolutely not. This just means I am alone on the holiday but I am okay with that. This is one event that is made for special interests which include florists, candy makers, lingerie stores and card companies. What better way to say I love you than by giving someone an item that was hacked from the ground before being put in a cooler so to keep it fresh. I understand cadavers are kept this way so they stay fresh too.

I say this holiday is a trap since people get so caught up in it. Give the wrong gift and expect to be sleeping on the couch. Give the ideal gift and be expected to do the same for the rest of your life. Keep your partner's expectations low. This way when you do something right they are very pleased.

One tip: If you are going to buy lingerie, buy it one or two sizes too small. Nothing is more insulting to a size 8 woman than giving her clothing for a size 12 body.

Here are some things I have learned over my lifetime when it comes to dealing with the holiday:

1) Do not tell her you had money set aside to get her a fabulous gift but then Destinee hit the stage at the club and you spent all your money on her.

2) Do not go flower shopping through the florist's dumpster. Sure, the flowers are free which saves you some money or, at least, do not tell her you did this. There is a line between thrifty and cheap and this crosses it.

3) Do not give her edible jewelry. She will not be amused when you give her the jewelry box and, after opening it, seeing a diamond necklace which you promptly pop into your mouth declaring it to be gum.

4) Do not tell her that all the guys from your fantasy football league are coming to the romantic dinner for two just so you can celebrate the start of the season.

Lastly, never ever tell her that the gift you got her was a hit with all the other women you have been with.

See, there are some many hoops to jump through and what do we (as men) get? A bunched of pissed off husbands/boyfriends from your partner's friends who tell their partners what you did for your wife/girlfriend. Is it worth it? Yeah, it probably is...

Keeping a journal

Someone suggested I keep a journal as a place to keep my thoughts. I suppose they said this hoping that my thoughts stay on a page instead of flying out of my mouth. That's unlikely. I have no problem spreading the wealth of things in my head with the general public.

I say journal since the word diary has certain female connotations and I am not going to start writing "I must, I must, I must increase my bust." If I do than you know something has gone horribly, horribly wrong and no, I am not giving you a license to put me down because of it.

The problem is that I never know what to put in my journal. Right now the pages are blank since I do not know what makes for a good journal.

Should I write about how I am creating a butterfly army? Butterflies are tough and you don't know fear until you have seen a Monarch Butterfly on steroids. Yes, I am juicing up my butterfly soldiers.

Should I write about my dreams of winning the Nobel Prize for blogging?

Should I write about things I question such as whether Milli Vanilli still has fans?

Should I write about my idea that if human women began acting like Black Widow spiders than there would be a lot less problems for women (since most men would be dead)?

Should I write about the random thoughts that go through my head? You cannot spell psychologist without psycho. How do most of these people ever make it through their own analysis (which, as I understand it, they have to go through before starting to practice). Also, why do these doctors call it a practice? I don't want someone who is practicing. I want someone who has done it before and knows what they are doing. Practice means they are preparing to get ready for the real thing. I would hope that I am the real thing. Besides, as messed up as I am, I need a professional. Maybe two or three.

Should I write about the things I tell people that leaves them staring at me with their jaws hanging open? I am not sure if that person is feeling shock, disgust, fear, awe etc. Mainly since they have been struck speechless.

Should I write about how I failed a personality profile since I do not have a personality?

Should I write about my conflicting nature of loving movies but hating most of the dreck that Hollywood puts out every year? Come on, people, how many sequels do we need a year? Spend less money on making the same movies over and over and spend it on new, innovative material.

Should I write about my complicated love life and the troubles I have with dating? I am of the mind that I never pretend to be someone other than I am and this is why I have never gone beyond a second date. That's me, crushing any chance of a second date by my brutal refusal to act like someone other than I am. The point is that I am not the guy women want to be involved with long term. It is a shame, really since I have so very little to offer.

Any suggestions on what goes in to making a good journal will be read, considered and summarily rejected (but thank you for trying).

Resolutions

2013 is upon us and people are making all kinds of resolutions. Not me. I am perfect just the way I am. How can you improve on this?

Right now my former employers (if they read this) and standing up in indignation over that statement. They tell me that I come across very quiet when I get hired but that doesn’t last long.

Things I want to do in 2013.

1)      Get in touch with my inner child. No, I haven’t done so yet no matter what anyone else says.  I’m willing to do this since I need a break. It is so exhausting to be me. You have no idea.

2)      Going a whole year without someone asking “What is wrong with you?” or “Why would you do that?” (This one did not even last 24 hours).

3)      I resolve that I will find a woman who will make an honest man out of me. Shut up. It could happen.

4)      This year will be the one where Jennifer Love Hewitt realizes she loves me. Yes, I know she has no idea who I am. If she cannot do it than Lucy Liu, Jaime King, Alex Kingston, Stacey Oristano, Hudson Leick, etc. will do.

5)      I resolve to get my cats to say something nice about me. Yes, I know number 4 is more likely than this one.

6)      Find a place where Angelina Jolie striking a pose at an awards show is not hard news.

7)      Find a place where the politicians are more interested in helping their country rather than themselves (which may be less likely than number 5).

8)      Start my own cult—I MEAN COMMUNE. Who said cult? Not me…

9)      Maintain my record of never drinking Starbucks coffee. Am I one of the last? Am I a dying breed? The pressure makes me want to drink…but not coffee.

10)   Keep being the wonderful person that I am and watch as people drop me as a friend on Facebook because that is the easiest way to determine your worth as a person. The more friends you have indicates how good a person you are.  Right.

Okay, that is it for resolutions. I should resolve to stay the sweet, good natured individual I am but that is stretching it too far and no one would ever believe that. Heck, I don’t even believe that and I am writing this thing.

 

All in all, this means another year of me just being me. I will do more outrageous things that will leave mouths hanging open and shocked gasps. I REGRET NOTHING! NOTHING!

 

 

Post Christmas

Christmas 2012 is over with and now I can write about what happened. I snuck into my mother's house (knowing full well that the hounds would be released if I knocked on the door and they saw me) so I could get a good, home cooked meal. I don't want to be that guy who just takes and takes so I brought a bowl of stuffing mix to leave behind. The mix just lay in the bowl. I didn't actually make it. I was going to let my family do that since my cooking skills are nonexistent and I did not want to be the one who made the horrible, horrible dish. My talent in the kitchen is so bad that I can burn anything even if the stove and oven are off.

Unfortunately, my family was waiting and they caught me trying to sneak in through the basement. My mother was at the front, surrounded by my siblings, cousins and their kids.

"So you have been writing about us." She crossed her arms and, like a wave, all the other arms behind her crossed as well. I almost asked my mother to start tapping her foot to see if everyone else would as well.

"Wasn't me. Someone hacked into my account. I would never write about my loving family."

A slight pause and my mother pointed her fingers at her eyes and then pointed at me. I got the idea. She wanted me to look at her. I did. I made eye contact. I forget that means I am challenging her authority. In my family, you never make eye contact with our mother.

Her right hand went up, pointing to my brother. "Sweater him!" My brother and cousins moved with the speed of a cheetah and rough hands grabbed me and I felt something being pulled over my head. I struggled to no avail and then I was released only to discover the horrible thing they had done. I was now wearing a snowman sweater. I started to yank it off but when I grabbed the edges the family started to move towards me. I let it go and they backed off. I grabbed the edges and they started forward. This went on for some time. I was not amused by the sweater (don't like the things) but enjoyed seeing them moving forward and back.

I stuffed my face during dinner. I ate so quickly that the other people at the table stopped to watch me. My cheeks puffed up like a rodents as I shoveled the food down. I was moving so fast that my fork grew hot. I dropped it and began using my hands. Social niceties be damned. My belly grew tight. The button on my pants flew off and bounced off the wall across from me.

After eating my fill I decided I needed to work it off so I started to run. As I ran I yanked the horrible sweater off and let it drop into a snow drift. My brother and sister watched me from the window.

"Was that the sweater we gave him?"
"Yep."
"He's still running."
"Yep."
"Did we give him those pants or t-shirt?"
"Nope."
"He's taking everything off!"
"Yep."
"He's running bare naked down the street!"
"Yep."

Thus ended my 2012 holiday.

Roommates

     Roommates are an interesting mix of things. I have one and I am starting to understand why most animals are loners who mark their territory. I probably would do that but I am sure my roommate already has. This is just another reason why I shouldn't pick roommates from the Internet.

     Warren, my roommate, does nightly security checks which would not bother me so much if he did not end up in my room, pantless. The light from the hallway wakens me so I can see him standing in my doorway.

     "Man, put that thing away!" is a phrase I use way too often living with him. I am not going to explain what the thing is.

     It got worse one night when I came home from work late to a dark house. As I moved toward the light switch in the living room, he jumped on me from behind, putting me in a choke hold. When I came to, he handed me what turned out to be a report card. It read as follows:
                                                       Reaction time: F
                                                       Awareness:      F
                                                       Fighting skill:  F

     "You have a lot of room for improvement."
     "I'll keep that in mind." Somehow I find it little comfort he is grading my performance.
    
      To be fair, he did the same thing when I brought a woman home. Needless to say the date pretty much ended there since there is no point trying to get intimate with a woman your roommate put in a choker hold and she passed out. It kind of destroys the mood. After that I never brought a woman home. This affected my dating life as women grew concerned that I would not let them in. Nothing quite says your quality like telling her she can never ever come to your house.

     I normally have a sleepy eyed looked but the morning he announced he was getting married caused my eyes to pop open like the pull down maps on a classroom board. I wondered who would ever marry this nutjob but then he started to laugh and said I should have seen the look on my face. It was priceless.

     At this point I realized I needed to move. Thus began my quest to find the perfect roommate and I did it. I found the perfect person to live with. It's me! Who else understands my wants and needs better than I do? No one and that means there will be no arguments about where my laundry is laying, no conflicts about the smell of food I cook and no real arguments about is on my DVR. Isn't that the dream, to live with just that perfect person?

   

Short 2012 recap

                The year is quickly coming to a close. I know this because Christmas is almost here and that is a very clear sign the year is almost over. It is amazing how that works. What a way to end a year—with unbridled consumerism and candy canes. I have learned several things over the course of the last year and I am going to pass on some of my wisdom. My advice is to duck and cover while taking everything I say with a grain of salt. I do.

                My year began in February (January is dead to me). I started off attending Katsucon at National Harbor, Maryland. This is where I met Meagan Marie and Linda Le. Not that they would admit to this. In fact, if you were to ask them who I am the reply would be “Al who?” I also met Yaya Han and proved the old adage “Good model, lousy photographer” which, to be honest, was basically the one statement that defined my year. It turns out that if you go out into the world you actually meet people. I had no idea. That is a double edged sword though. While you meet people, you also have to meet people which is how most people define their interactions with me. Which comes to the one thing I heard repeatedly this year:

                “What is wrong with you?” or some other variation, which most would find insulting. I don’t, since there is actually no good answer to this. Plus, the amount of space it would take to explain what is really wrong with me (well, according to “the experts”) would take up too much space to cover. Some of the things I have done caused someone to remark “If anyone else had done this I would be shocked. With you, I’m not surprised anymore.” I took that as a challenge. This lead to the statement listed above as well as the much beloved “I hate you, Al.”

                March was horrible. Too horrible to discuss. Actually, I don’t even remember that month. Great, I lost a whole month. Well, I thought I lost it but then I looked under my seat in the car and found it. After brushing it off and seeing that it was lackluster, I dropped it back under the seat.

                April brought me a lot of confusion about birthdays. First, how could my special day be so ignored? Very few people on Facebook even acknowledged it and isn’t that what FB is for, to know when to tell someone happy birthday? Then there was the issue with the cosplay model/writer A.L. who, after I wished her a happy birthday, wrote back with the following:

                Glenn, thanks for the birthday wish. How are you doing?

                Al, sorry, Facebook is screwing up my messages.

                Wait, where was my thank you? I don’t even rate a thank you. Man, the things you learn from social media.

                Anyway, after my birthday I joined LinkedIn. I cannot say it has done much except for introducing me to Kim Bookless which made it worthwhile. If you don’t know Kim Bookless, you should. She is the reason my blog has become coherent and makes sense (well, it is supposed to and if it doesn’t that is my fault). Kim also made me sign on to Twitter where I decided to use the name TheOneTrueAl. I am still not sure what I am doing there but I’ll take her word that it is important.

                September brought my first trip to Dragon*Con, and what happens at Dragon stays at Dragon. Except for the YouTube videos. And the posts on Facebook. Plus every other type of social media where people can post pictures and comments. Whatever happened to privacy? I will say this is where I learned that Brandy Gibson has a mean right hook, that there is an ultra secret group called the Superhero Cosplay Forum and Sherri Lyn, along with her sister Mae, made me try sushi.

                Later I learned not to trust translator programs. I translated a phrase into Turkish and sent it to a person with Turkish heritage. She is no longer speaking to me and I am blaming the program as there is no way anyone would EVER want to stop talking to me since I am such a delight.

                One thing that amazes me is how much the start of the year has in common with the end of the year. I started the year with no money, single and sporadic employment. I’m ending the year with no money, single and sporadic employment. You would think that things would change in 12 months. You haven’t met me.

                                                                                Her majesty Kim Bookless made this blog better.