Don't Profess to Being a Professor

This past weekend I found myself on a plane headed from Chicago to Boston. I would not specific the locations but for the differing experiences associated with each. To preface this tale, when I was booking my ticket, I thought it would be great fun to list myself as Professor [My Name]. I believe I have made prior reference to some exchanges with students at my alma mater mistakenly crediting me as a certain professor there, so in some ways I've already done this sort of thing before. But with it always right there in the drop-down menu, I thought I needed to go for it. And yes, it's true, one day I wouldn't be completely against being a professor, which is more than you can say for the people who would have the power to make me a professor.

At any rate, on the leg out, there was no incident beyond my silent smirk (do smirks generally make noise?) as I printed my boarding pass. On the return leg, however, there was a moment before I got into a security line, the one where they actually check your ID against your boarding pass. There seemed to be a delay, and I don't know who flinched first, but it was probably me. It was like a football game though, as I felt I'd been drawn offside by this woman's hesitation. An exchange ensued regarding the professor business, which amounted to me, at a time, saying, "I'm not really a professor, I just thought that would be fun to put there." She was not, as is to be expected, amused. "We'll let it slide this time," she said, crossing out the four-letter abbreviation in front of my name. "Right," I said, "thanks."

"I wouldn't do it again," she scolded me, "you'll be noted down as a troublemaker." A troublemaker?!? NO! The highest offense of any 4th grader, the kind of thing that might make 5th graders know who you are. I wanted to continue on because I couldn't see the real dilemma. Was someone going to ask some very academic and integral question aboard the flight, prompting a steward or stewardess to ask, "Is there a professor aboard?" Then this bitch would chime in, "No, but there is someone professing to be one." I'd commend her pun, then feel like I was belonging somewhere in the late 1930s or early 40s along with Camus and some other absurdists. Side note: I wish there were a good "Camus the Whale" joke. Maybe if he had ever gotten fat or something.

At any rate, that's about enough on the old boring stories from the life of me front, even if this is me damn blog! I'll sign off with a grand little number sung by 11 year-old Anna Graceman during the tryouts for "America's Got Talent." After viewing I called it the best performance I'd ever seen on anyone of these vocal-based or vocal-inclusive talent shows that have emerged. Oh, and she's also playing the piano at virtuoso-enough level. From Juneau, Alaska, I like to think it's a testament to the focus one can have when a little more of the beaten path. But seriously, she kicks ass. Merry mid-July folks, and a happy early Bastille Day. Bastille? All they took was their freedom...

Check Out My Website...

www.quitchabitchin.com. Yes, every now and then the level of complaining I see when I'm listening into a conversation or perusing social networks gets me a little down so that I end up complaining about people complaining. This is not to say I don't complain about other things, but really, if you complain about really silly shit, please take the opportunity at times to acknowledge you are complaining about some really silly shit. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit...

In this instance the complaint in particular that spawned my ire was the bevy of teachers wishing for a snow day. Yes, we all remember being kids and hoping for a snow day. Heck, I actually kind of liked school, just not the getting up early part, and I still was down with snow days. But once that is your job and it is the kind of job where you are supposed to be inspiring children, or at least helping them in some regard, shouldn't you want to be going in? Or maybe we have different ideas about what a snowday is #cocaine. That's a bad pun wrapped in a twitter joke. It's been a while since I've explained a joke on here. Explaining jokes is my favorite.

Anywho, speaking of shit, the other day one of my homies alerted me to this little piece in The Awl about a Chinese restaurant with a restroom theme. That is to say a restaurant in China with decor that ranges from toilet seating to urinals on the walls. The menu is loaded with ill-named dishes.


Here's a look, courtesy of the original article.

The most wonderful quote closes that article, so good in fact that I had to bring it here. The words of a female student:
"I originally went in because I thought it was a toilet but then discovered it was a restaurant and decided to give it a try," she said.

The place is pretty much right up my alley. I am well-known amongst friends for talking extensively about bowel movements, getting a good kick out of a loud or awful-smelling fart, and so on. The throne room is one of my favorite places to check morning email. I'm sorry if that means maybe you don't want to borrow my laptop, but then it's not like I'm using the thing to wipe. Even eating in the bathroom, it's not as if you're eating off of the surfaces there, just within the confines of the space.

With no real clever segue in mind, I advise y'all to check out Alex Ebert (of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros) track Truth from his forthcoming solo album. It's got a very "Good Song" vibe in my estimation, and that's a good thing. I don't always like Blur, but when I do...And since I drop links to youtube in here with some frequency and I know how some of us out there might feel about the ads and whatnot, I'm throwing out this link for those who aren't in the know about quietube. I actually don't use it, but probably should. Instead I just mute my sound and do something else for 15 seconds.

I've been trying to stay on top of the news more in 2011, and it really seems like I'm not missing much in browsing the Google News that goes directly to my Safari toolbar. It did lead me to this Business Week article, however, on the stock implications of Steve Jobs' medical leave. It just seems incredibly sad to me that rather than a concern about Jobs' actual health, the focus is on how his absence will affect Apple shareholders. F#ckers.

Last but not least because I want to end on a high note, here's a choice read about good old Keanu Reeves. Journalistic bias be damned, if you don't like Keanu after that, you might not have a soul. Rock on Johnny Utah, Neo, Ted, and so much more...

My Girl

Talkin' 'bout myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy girl; my girl, oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh.

Sometimes shit is funny when it happens, and sometimes it's even funnier in retrospect.

If you really want to know, all you have to do is ask.

Start Your Day Off Right

Whenever I listen to a new comedian that I dig, rather than simply having their jokes in my head, I also start to craft my own jokes that rip on their style. A similar thing takes place when I read a book that I like, and I find myself somewhat adopting the author's writing style. I'm not a parasite or anything though, I swear, instead I liken it to Rogue's super power, just less cool and less well executed.

In the last week, my comedian of choice, courtesy of a coworker, has been Demetri Martin. Just prior to this I was on a huge Gaffigan kick (see past posting that I am too lazy to link to), and before that it was all about Sir Digby Chicken Caesar (posted same vid before, but what the Hell...). I'm still loving those, I just spend more time listening to Demetri these days. So, this morning while I stretched after my run, I composed a couple of Demetri-esque jokes I thought I would share. In fact, I'm still thinking I'll share them, as I'm putting them down here right now.

The other day at work a guy asked me how I was feeling. I told him, "Usually with my hands." When he looked at me funny I said, "Well it has to do with nerve endings and synapses..."

The last week at work I signed myself up as a kitchen monitor. So someone asks me "How's the kitchen monitoring going?" I told him, "Well, see for yourself, it's still there."

After writing these down on a piece of notebook paper while I was taking a dump this morning I realized, "Hey, maybe I'm not thinking like these comedians, maybe they think like me." But actually what I mean is that I think I end up liking comedians that tell jokes I would tell only I wouldn't tell them because they are better comedians than me, but if I were a better comedian, those are the kind of jokes I would tell. When I started typing that, it seemed like a revelation (actually more of an epiphany), but really I just said that I have comedic tastes, just like everyone else. Still, no way I am deleting that paragraph.

Anyway, in addition to my low-grade Demetri copycat efforts, I feel compelled to share this video clip as well because it will make you feel retarded. At that point, if you're as hooked on his humor (and in awe of his brainpower) as I am of late, go ahead and check out his website.