12 Days of Music

Anyone who knows me notices I'm a frugal dude from the first time they ask me to go out to a bar. I usually end up saying something like, "No." Even if I have purchasing power, a.k.a money, I usually keep my fiscal strength in my wallet.

You see, quite a few years ago, my parents gave me an iPod Shuffle for that big holiday in December on which people spend way too much money. It was a wonderful gift, but the Shuffle has one huge downfall. However, I'm too protective of my dollars to purchase another MP3 player.

The downfall of the Shuffle is that you have no control over what song you're going to hear once you load your stolen music onto it. In my case, I never want to make a playlist prior to loading the music because it takes entirely too long. So I end up letting the Shuffle pick at random from my collection of more than 12 days of music.

When listening to my iPod at work, I pay the price of the Shuffle's limitations each time an undesirable song comes pooping through my headphones. Yes, there is a skip button, but skipping one out of every five songs is a real distraction from my work. I'd bet my hitting the skip button costs my employer $15 dollars a day.

I read an article a while ago in which Paul Shirley wrote about his own music library cleansing. It inspired me to do some fat trimming of my own. It took me eons to get around to it, but I've finally grown tired of skipping around Metallica and hiding from the Foo Fighters.

I won't cover every artist/band, but some of the deleted and a few of the fence riders seemed worth talking about.

Group A:
Ace of Bass makes the cut because my wife bobs her head every time they come on.
Alan Parsons Project stays only because I always want to remember how spectacular the 1990s Chicago Bulls were.
The Ark is the first band to go. I stopped feeling cool listening to them a couple years ago.

Group B:
Billy Squire is only appropriate in a suburban bar. Not everybody wants you, sir.
The Black Keys are soulless and now deleted.
Black Kids get to stay so I can say I'm not racist.

Group C:
Chris Isaak's Wicked Game video was great to watch as a teenager, but his music no longer fits my lifestyle.
Crazy Town talks about getting a lot of pussy. I'll let them keep telling lies. They also started a star tattoo fad that has since burned out like a supernova. However, there's always room for a star tattoo person in any group of friends.

Group D:
Danny Elfman, thanks for exiting without a fight.
Days of the New I can't get rid of you. You make me think of JNCO jeans and Ozzfest. Both of which you would never find me in today, but I would have never said that when I was 15.
Deftones, I'm keeping you for now. I'll probably delete you the next time around. My ears like softer things now.
Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers' I'll be Home With Bells On is a friend that will always be welcome in my ears.
Duncan Shiek reminds me of an entire summer my brother and I spent playing a Nintendo 64 game (Star Wars Shadows of the Empire).

Group E:
The English Beat and Eurythmics were only in my library because of a college class that forced me to identify their music as part of a listening exam. Deleting them is like throwing your Trapper Keeper out the window on the last day of school.

Group F:
The Fabulous Thunderbirds are another part of the listening exam. However, they continue to get an A+ from me.
Foo Fighters make me hit the skip button every time they're playing something other than Everlong. They are a one-hit wonder to me. I'll keep Everlong.

Group G:
Garth Brooks always reminds me of a weird time in my life. In second or third grade, I started listening to a lot of Garth, and I also began wearing cowboy boots and cowboy shirts. At this same time, I said something mean to this girl named Carol. She was scrawny and had blonde hair down to her shoulders; harmless. Carol didn't like my comment and showed her disgust by picking up a wood chip off the playground and launching it at my face. It sliced me just above the eyebrow. I went into the coat room and cried. I still have a scar to this day. Thanks to Carol, Garth is gone.
Gentle Giant is like listening to a group performing at your local Renaissance festival; something to be avoided.

Group M:
Metalica is the band that really made me want to cut down the library. Every time I hear them, I think to myself, "Man, I really need to delete them." If I should ever want to hear their music, I can just turn on the local rock station and they'll be their within 20 minutes of listening.

Group O:
OK Go, an awesome music video will only get you a few years of notoriety. I've heard or seen nothing impressive since.

Group P:
Pennywise. I forgot the lyrics while performing the song Bro Hymn in a band (Right Side Harbor) at a high school show. I keep them around so I can practice the lyrics in case we have a reunion show.

Group T:
Tantric - see Days of the New
TV on the Radio was one of Spin's favorite bands to cover. I took their word for it an downloaded their breakthrough album. I deleted most of it within weeks. Now it's time to get rid of the rest.

Group U:
U2 is one of the two Group U members. I have to keep one around and U2 is not it.
UB40, thanks for being better than U2.

Group W:
The Wallflowers, I'll keep you only because I overheard some older folks, who were sitting behind me at a restaurant, praising you. I don't like you very much now, but maybe you'll grow on me as I get older.
Wolfmother was supposed to be the next Black Sabbath. They seem more like Black Sabbath's pussy grandkid. Gone.

In the end, I still have more than 12 days of music. I went from 12.5 to 12.1 days. I'm sure I missed quite a bit of crap music, but at least I got rid of Metallica.

Recession Spawns New Growth: Beards

For the past few months I have been growing a beard uninterruptedly. I began this facial growth for a multitude of reasons: I'm lazy, it displays my non-conformity, it shields my face during winter and it's a sign of my pessimistic outlook on the chances of an imminent career promotion.

I have found that I am not alone in my last reason. The current economic downturn has given a rebirth to facial hair. I and many other men are growing what are called "Recession Beards." These are beards that some men grow if they have lost their job or are experiencing a lack of mobility in their careers. We start growing these recessionary beards because there is no better time to experiment with your appearance than when one is unemployed or locked into their current job for the foreseeable future.

The current recession is not good for much, but it has made beards fashionable again. Up until now there has been a lack of puberty when it comes to facial hair. The last president to sport a beard was William Howard Taft, 1909-1913. If I were President Obama's advisor, I would strongly urge him to grow a recession beard to show his support of the unemployed.

So, why did beards die off anyway? It is believed that during World War I soldiers were forced to shave to ensure gas masks fit properly. Shortly after, the film business became popular. Many of the films during this period were depictions of World War I. For the sake of authenticity, the actors wore crew cuts and were clean shaven, which made the clean-cut look popular.

This completely changed people's attitudes toward facial hair. The only beard that was popular during this dry patch was in the form of a Wooly Willy. Americans didn't see much facial hair again until the '60s when the counterculture sprouted and grew enough facial hair to make up for the bald decades before it. Ubiquitous facial hair was stunted again in the mid 1980s.

Beards haven't been prevalent since. During the 1990s, the only styles that had a remote popularity were the Goatee and the Van Dyke. Both of which were the diet or the lite versions of a beard.

Even though beards haven't been popular in traditional American fashion, they do carry a lot of significance in other cultures. If you grow a beard in some cultures, you are seen as respected, knowledgeable and as a member of high-social status. In other cultures, like America, you may be seen as filthy and unsuccessful. I think strangers look at me in both ways. Some have said I look like a professor. Others say I look like an unkempt vagabond or terrorist. I think I look like a manly gentleman who is proud of what his face can grow.

Each culture has some interpretation of what a beard means to them. In gay culture the term beard refers to a person of the opposite sex that you would take with you to an event to give the impression that you are heterosexual.

Whether you are using a beard as a way to hide something or as a facial character builder, almost every style has had its heyday. Even men with non-growth patches, which most men experience, flaunt their facial locks. One of my coworkers grew a neck beard (Neard), which looks exactly like it sounds. It was laughable and he knew it, but it was his recession beard and it is the only place his mug can grow hair. However, there are a few men, Henry Thoreau and Horace Greeley who wore the Neard proudly.

There are many styles that are much cooler than the Neard. Some of my favorites are the Handlebar Mustache, the Zappa, the Friendly Mutton Chops and the Dali.

No matter which style you pick or the reason behind the growth, you are sure to look more intriguing. Men, if you are one who likes to support a cause, grow a beard as symbolic support to the unemployed. It's like pasting one of those "support our troops" ribbons on your car, but it's free and not cliche. Ladies, convince your man to grow a beard. If he resists, tell him you will grow your pubes until he starts his beard. I am sure he won't be shaving for weeks. Welcome back, beards.

Cat Terrorizes Home

House pets are supposed to be enjoyable and comforting, but when I see a house cat I immediately think of how its claws are going to slice my eyeballs or my testicles.

Cats are one of the few things that trigger my fight-or-flight response. Not only are their claws dangerous weapons, but they are mischievous and sly, and they have a bad attitude. I wouldn't trust any human with these characteristics, let alone allow them to take residence in my home. I would have never married my wife if she ended every massage by clawing me like cats do.

Despite my fears, I decided to be a nice husband and get a cat for my wife for her birthday because she has always wanted one of these purring beasts. The cat we chose is black with piercing orange eyes that resemble a panther's. We believe he, Louis, is a mix of the popular Bombay breed.

Louis' acclimation into our home started off great. He stayed in the basement and I never had to deal with him, which is exactly what I wanted. When he first started to come around he was entertaining and likable. He and our dog would have showdowns, which usually entails 20 minutes of them staring at each other from a foot's distance until Louis would retreat back to the basement.

After a few weeks passed, Louis started coming upstairs more and more. He started getting comfortable and he started growing on me. Then his evil ways came out and he began terrorizing our home.

Louis lives a nocturnal life and he doesn't care about my sleep schedule at all. I often wake up to a crescendo of cat clamor, which I mistake immediately as someone breaking in with the intention to rape my wife. However, I lay awake for hours listening to a six pound cat throw chotckes off shelves, play with the microwave power cord, and break Christmas ornaments. His activities always lead to surprises in the morning.

One morning I walked into our living room and almost stepped on broken ornaments that he had strategically placed on the floor as if he were Kevin McCallister preparing for the Wet Bandits.

Another day, I couldn't find my wedding ring. I told my wife that the cat probably stole the piece of tungsten carbide that is supposed to symbolize our "circle of love." My wife said, "why would a cat steal your ring?" This is a reasonable response, but I know Louis is evil. Two weeks later, my wife was cleaning a pot that hosts a palm tree, which the cat had used as a tropical litter box. She found my ring buried in the urine drenched soil. Now, whenever something is missing around the house, I immediately search the potted plants that my cat seems to be using like pawn shops to dump his stolen goods.

Louis' rap sheet is long. He has claimed our basement couch by pissing on it daily. My dog eats his poop, which has caused her to lose popularity at our house. After a nice shit meal my dog's drool becomes a poo scented glue stick. Her halitosis smells like smashed poop on a daily basis. It's as if Louis calls our dog whenever he needs to poop and makes a direct deposit into her mouth.

Whether Louis is dumping in my dog's mouth, pissing on the couch, eating Ping-Pong balls, or haunting my dreams, it's like I'm living with a criminal who commits crimes solely against me.

This isn't helping my fear of cats despite the fact that people say that facing your fears is one of the best ways to get over a fear. I have now lived with one of my fears for months and I still tense up whenever he jumps on my lap. My ailurophobia continues. The next fear I will try to conquer is the artificial insemination of cows.

Ain't too Proud to Save

Using coupons is a controversial thing to do. At least this is what is thought by the image-conscious circle of friends that I hang out with. Don't get me wrong. I am definitely an image-conscious person. E.g., I am afraid to be seen by a wild bear simply because my ass is bushier than his/hers. However, saving money by using coupons or talking someone down is something I love doing. Not only does it save me money, but it also allows me to do more things because of the extra money.

Recently, my friends called me "low rent" for using coupons at fine restaurants. The other day, I cashed in on a buy-one-get-one-free coupon at one of Columbus' finest, The Refectory. My hecklers asked me if I felt embarrassed when I pulled out a coupon at a place that is primarily frequented by Columbus' elite. I replied to them stating that I think every one there thought I was one of them. Them meaning the "rich." Now, I don't call myself rich, but using coupons and negotiating are a big part of how the rich get richer.

Picture: Me (right) thinking about which coupon to use.

People have a skewed perception of the rich. The not-so-rich think the rich don't use coupons because they don't need to. The not-so-rich are correct in thinking that the rich don't need to use coupons, but each coupon they use is more money they can use for investments, high-priced prostitutes, or what have you.

When I whipped out that buy-one-get-one-free coupon at the fancy restaurant, the clientele and the attractive waitress looked at me as if I just pulled out a member's card. It's not like I'm asking for a free meal because the lobster bisque tasted like Mayor McCheese's dick. Nor am I complaining because the Rockies on my Coors Light have not turned blue. In the end, coupons are distributed because these companies want your business. Just make sure to tip on the bill as if the coupon amount were not subtracted from the total. If you do this, you're sure to fit the tuxedo.

Also, don't be afraid to negotiate when buying large dollar items. The last time I purchased shoes, I let the cashier ring up the shoes, which they were $85. I then said, "I don't want to spend more than $65." He accepted. If he would have said no, I probably would have went to the next store. Instead, I walked away with $20 that I probably spent on good beer. I'm sure you just called me "low rent" because $85 is a large dollar amount to me, but there's a lot of negotiating room for something that expensive.

Whether you're saving a lot or a little, don't be afraid to use coupons and negotiate. All the rich people are doing it.

Write on

Everyone has a routine. One guy leaves his house every morning at six to run five miles. He always leaves at this time so he can ensure he’ll get back home and be ready for work at eight. More importantly, he begins his jog exactly at six so he can cross the railroad track before the daily train rumbles through his jogging path. Another part of this routine is that he takes an apple with him everyday, which he feeds to a horse that he passes at mile three. The horse seems to enjoy the routine as much as the runner does.

Another guy routinely drinks a six pack of Miller High Life every evening before he goes to sleep after the 11 o’clock news. He dozes off throughout the news but looks forward to the weather. He should probably go to sleep earlier, but the weather is very important to him. He could check the weather on the internet and go to sleep much earlier, but why would he do that?

Whether good or bad, we all have routines. I have become annoyed with some of the routines I follow.

I noticed the other day that I drive in the same lane on a four-lane freeway everyday. Not only do I limit myself to the lane just to the right of the passing lane, but I start eating my daily Clif Bar at exactly the same point. I have no idea why I do this. It probably isn’t a bad thing. However, medical people say that following routines contributes to Alzheimer’s. They suggest taking alternate routes to work so your brain has to keep experiencing new things.

In hopes to prevent early onset Alzheimer’s, I’ve started breaking some of my routines. I will occasionally brush my teeth with my left hand, which is extremely awkward and inefficient. My left hand doesn’t seem to care about my dental hygiene, but I’m going to make it.

In another attempt to deter Alzheimer’s, I’ve decided to break my lazy routine of not writing. Writing is something I enjoy immensely, but I’ve been putting it off much like I do shaving, which is why I always have a beard. Also, writing actually makes good use of my journalism degree that I paid more than $50k for. As a result, I’ve decided to increase my brain activity and write this blog.

I know this particular entry seems to be on the anti-routine side of the debate, but I hope you routinely read my blog.