Valentine’s Day for the Married

Valentine’s Day for the Married

I’ve spoken almost exhaustively about the cynical haze that surrounds Singles Awareness Day in 1998, 1998 and 1996 (before I could write good), the Valentine’s Day Curse back in 2005, 2005, 2001, 2001, and 2001 (not the best of years), saw a glimmer of hope in 2007 only to have it dashed in 2008, got snowed in in 2003, did the most amazingly fun and playful thing back in 1996 only to reap the fallout of it the next day, recounted my inner monologue during the sellout performance of Logic, Luck and Love on V Day last year, and I even wrote a poem and published an Application to be Dustin’s Valentine somewhere along the line. But this V Day marks the beginning of a new chapter of V Days. Valentine’s Day for the Married. Here’s how it goes.

Friday 2/10, Four days before V Day: I remind my wife that I don’t have class on Valentine’s Day. She tells me this is the first time she’s heard of it. I insist I told her earlier in the week. This argument lasts at least 5 minutes. I forget to ask her if she wants to do anything because I’ve been too distracted defending myself and trying to figure out if I actually ever did tell her my class was cancelled earlier in the week, like I had just vehemently insisted minutes earlier.

Sunday 2/12, Two days before V Day: I remember to ask her if she wants to do anything. She thinks about it. Something else happens. We forget to come to a conclusion.

Monday 2/13, One day before V Day: I convince Jenn that we decided we don’t want to go to a restaurant even though we never came to that conclusion. A student employee suggests I cook for her. I hadn’t even thought of that. I ask if that’s what she wants to do and she’s more than happy. She never wanted to go out anyway.

Note: I remembered a conversation we had over Christmas with my sister about love languages. We all have different ways we want to have love shared with us. I think there are five languages. Positive reinforcement, doing things with your partner, doing things for your partner but in separate rooms without seeing each other and two other things. I enjoy doing things with my partner while Jenn enjoys being right all the time. So if she wants to give me unsolicited incorrect feedback about the words to a Sara Bareilles song that happened to have been correct when they left my mouth, I’m going to let her. Because I love her.

Tuesday 2/14 @ 8:40am, V Day: I drive her to work in the city. During a chorus of Shoulda Been a Cowboy, she sings “Shoulda learned to roll around” instead of “shoulda learned to rope and ride.” Again, I support her. Then she asks if instead of me cooking for her tonight, if she could cook for me and I could just do her laundry. Sure thing, honey. So how different is Valentine’s Day for the Married? The answer is washing dirty socks.

Inside the Head of a Performer IV: The Remount - Part 2

In case you missed it:

• Inside the Head of a Performer IV: The Remount - Part 1

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Inside the Head of a Performer IV: The Remount – Part 2
Logic, Luck and Love

The music was barely audible over the applause. This show had really caught fire in the media. Or Amy’s introduction was disproportionately flattering. We could barely hear the music, which was unfortunately the cue for the other three to sit down. They figured it out. Whew. Thankfully I work with smart people.

“If any of you believe in romance… and would like to continue to be fooled, you may want to leave now.” That line usually gets a muffled “heh” from 3 to 5 people. This crowd broke out in real laughter, almost reminiscent of a sitcom. And that theme continued. There were literally applause breaks where there wasn't even laughter before. At Fringe, I had resolved myself to believing that the opening part just wasn't going to get laughs. It was too smart to really be the kind of humor that makes people laugh out loud. And it was OK.

Not anymore. I really, really had the crowd that night. I got laughs on several occasions just with a cock of the eyebrow or a slight tilt of the head. I was so completely in the moment. I intentionally walked to the other side of the stage after the first “certain… sexual… acts” delivered to a brunette in the 2nd row only to drag out the callback 15 seconds later. I smirked more. I felt cockier. I used the hell out of pauses. My facial expressions were something I hadn’t even practiced. I don’t know that I could have. I’m just thankful to have had the instincts to let loose with them.

There was one time and only one time that I was “on” in basketball. I was just shooting around – I think with no one – on the outdoor courts at UMBC. I just got this feeling like every shot I took was going to go in. And they did. It didn’t last long – maybe only 2 shots – but I KNEW it. Before I even took the shot. And the first one I missed, I even felt that too. This was like that. Only I wasn’t by myself in the freezing cold avoiding Laura Garms tonight.

I think a major role in how loose and present I was had EVERYTHING to do with me not having to memorize stage commands. Last year, I had to concentrate so hard on remembering to walk while thinking, stop to make a point, take a step to the left, end up in the middle to deliver the thesis, don’t retreat, NEVER retreat. Not now. There was a flood light on the entire stage every moment I was speaking and I just tried to make sure not to fall off of it.

I got through the first two pieces with as much laughter as I’ve ever heard. And after those first two pieces, I get to sit for about 15 minutes and just watch. And sing. And of course I got to deliver one of the biggest laugh lines of the show with “I [pause] see dead people.” I decided to add the pause this time to make the crowd expect a sentimental moment from me, only to yank the football away again. Once again, awesomeness.

Everybody seemed more relaxed. Kevin had the crowd laughing, Molly even called out to the crowd at one point and Jenn (performer) was completely audible to the latecomers in the back, which we were all worried about for good reason, but turned out to be just fine. I think. Truthfully I’m not sure. Get here on time next time.

“What’s wrong with you?” Crazy Bitch blares over the now much more audible speakers. My turn to get back up. And if the crowd liked the opening bit that much, I couldn’t wait to see how they’d react to the part that is supposed to be funny. And they ate it up. This article is becoming very boring for me to write now, since it seems like that’s all I have to say. I settled down in the Brick Street piece much more than ever. Better than rehearsal had ever been. I specifically remember taking my time when I went to mount the “dancer.” I lifted my leg up and put it down several times as if preparing for the kill. It’s something that hadn’t even occurred to me to do until just then on stage. Just using more negative space for humor.

This was also finally the time I had actually lost control of myself during the douchebag dance. I found myself falling back toward my seat (thankfully not forward), but was able to regain control without breaking form for the 7 seconds I need to do the stupid dance. Apparently it’s harder than I gave it credit for being. Poor douchebags.

My last piece was emotional. It’s the story of origin of Jenn and I. I was getting a little choked up at this part, which is somewhat by design. I like to show the crowd that I’m not just a superficial tail-chasing frat guy, but I have changed. The show gets heavy at this point and not only does thinking about Jenn (fiancée) make me emotional, but so do the other performer’s stories. My heart still stops every time I see Kevin push back his box. And I get my emotions from another source on this night. Tonight, I am proud of the work we have put together. I feel that I’ve done something meaningful. Something real. Something my dad would be proud of. This isn’t just 5 minutes of dick jokes anymore. This is inspiring people. And that is inspiring me. And it gets me emotional. So I let it use me and I use it. I got through the longest (and most emotional) part of my show perfect and after “If you spend you whole life changing the radio station just in case there’s a better song on the radio… you’re not gonna listen to a whole lot of music,” I got applause. Loud and genuine applause.

I sat down and watched Jenn (performer) finish her hopeful bit, Molly finish her uplifting bit, and Kevin cap his tragedy in especially heartbreaking fashion. He got to his part about the box and I got chills. Still, after all this time. I had to repress the emotions to close the show. It was only three sentences and honestly, I wish I had left a few tears in my eyes when I said them. But it was still moving. And real. For the record, if you’ve seen the last part of the show and feel like I’m cheating by summoning that emotion, well the truth is that I always feel that. Every performance. It’s just a matter of how much I choose to suppress it. And for those who still believe that tears are only an indication of sadness, I hope you’ll grow out of that one day.

The unfortunate thing about this performance is that I’ll never again be able to perform for less than 250 people. This experience was too good. I’m going out on top. And since this is so meaningful and inspirational, I’m likely not going to ever be able to do stand up again. Five minutes of dick jokes isn’t even a craving of mine anymore. Even the Speakeasy stage, which was once my light house, has become my albatross in equal measure. Yeah, I’m still not sure what that metaphor means.

But anyway, I just heard today that we’ve been accepted as part of the Fringe Festival again this summer. So it looks like the beat will go on. And others will get to see the show. Don’t miss out this time. And bring a date. Trust me. It will work.

Inside the Head of a Performer IV: The Remount - Part 1

Inside the Head of a Performer IV: The Remount – Part 1
Logic, Luck and Love

I’ve apparently written over 7,000 words on the first five-day run of Logic, Luck and Love last summer. Don’t worry. I no longer have that kind of time on my hands.

Sold out show. Atlas Theater. 250+ people in the stands at $22 each. I’d seen this large a crowd before at the Funny Bone in Cincinnati. But those people were there to see Adam Ferrara or Steve Trevino. I just had to tell five minutes of dick jokes and hand off the microphone to the people that the crowd really came to see. This time, I was Adam Ferrara. Or at least one of four Adam Ferraras.

So yeah, I was nervous. I was fine – actually feeling good – until the day before when I got a text message from Jenn (performer) saying she was just starting to get nervous. That text was a virtual computer virus because I caught her nerves just from opening the message. But it didn't really hit me until the day of.

Half an hour to show time. That’s really when it hit me. Kevin was trying on shirts and talking to Molly about something unrelated to the sheer terror of performance storytelling. I couldn't listen anymore. I went to the other section of the green room to reinforce my rib cage so my heart would be less likely to burst completely out and onto the ground. Unfortunately the three beer rule doesn't apply to theater. Not when I have other people counting on me. I don’t know why not, really. Seems sort of idealistic for no fucking reason now.

It was time. Ten minutes to curtain (a business term I've since picked up). Time to go upstairs and pace around backstage and try not to piss or shit myself. I can’t specifically say that I’ve never been this nervous, considering this is an immeasurable variable and knowing the fallibility of human memory, but I had started chewing Kevin’s fingernails.

I peeked out from behind the curtain at the growing crowd. There are several parts of my opening monologue where I need to call out people in the audience and connect with them through eye contact so I could project my desires onto them. They don’t need to be too specific, but I need one to not be obese (“no fatties”) and another to be female (“the willingness to perform certain… sexual… acts”) – preferably hot – and I’d like to know before I walk out there where I can look to find these people. After the rehearsal, I wasn’t sure how far I’d be able to see into the crowd. It got pretty dark out there and since I was first up, my eyes would have no time to adjust.

ANYWAY, I peeked from behind the curtain, something Kevin does often, but the two ladies see as unprofessional. And then I saw the middle section third row. From right to left (how I saw them) was Ashley (my cousin’s girlfriend), Johnnie (cousin), Uncle John, Aunt Joyce, Jenn (fiancée), Meatwad, and his date (or so I assumed and was wrong). I owned that middle section third row. And something honestly unprecedented happened.

I had a sense of calm. I got this. This show is going to be awesome. And easy. I had been walloping my lines into my gray matter all week long and I felt a confidence I hadn't ever felt before. In anything. I probably never had any material that I had rehearsed even a tenth as much as this stuff. And as opposed to last summer, I wasn't just done writing it the week before. I stopped the constant rehearsing of the opening act I’d been doing in my head for the last 25 minutes. I knew I’d be fine out there. Not only that, but I knew I’d be able to be in the moment out there, talking to the crowd. Not thinking about the next line as I’m saying this one. Thus making it more real. I felt a cocky. Which happened to be good for my character. This was better than OK.

Amy came up, said some stuff, introduced us, and I was ready to go. The music started. Quietly. Too quietly. Something was wrong. We were on opposite ends of the stage. Both sides missed the cue but thankfully we came out at the same time. And when we walked on stage, there was a wave of applause. That had never happened before. This was going to be easy.

(to be continued tomorrow (hopefully))

The Confused Narcissist

The Confused Narcissist

So last year at Valentines Day, I talked about hope and how I had a chance to finally catch a break in the form of a beautiful young intellectual who seemed to be really into me. Well, some of you may remember how that turned out. That break I thought I was finally catching turned out to be much like the road runner that the coyote always thinks he’s catching. The road runner magically got away and the device which I tried to use to catch it somehow malfunctioned and defying all laws of physics, hurled a 20-ton rock onto my head, leaving me to limp my accordion-shaped body back to the drawing board.

Another year, another trail of heartbreak and despair. And honestly, I can’t even really say that heartbreak has been a part of this past year. I haven’t gotten close enough for heartbreak. But the despair makes up for it. And for those of you who think that I’m a player, a commit-o-phobe or a relationship saboteur, I’d appreciate it if you could somehow manage to kick yourself in the throat right now so that I don’t have to do it myself and so I’ll never really have to know about it. It’s better for all that way.

Really, whether I’ve been the punching bag for an emotionally troubled 19-year-old, the butt end of a joke for some hot 21-year old or falsely impregnating people 500 miles away (yeah, there’s a fun story), this year has beaten me down. Every year does. And every year, I try to figure out why. I just need it to make sense because it doesn’t.

And so I approach the situation rationally. What the hell is wrong? The easy answer is that’s it’s me. After all, I am the only common link in all my failed relationships. And honestly, for years I have assumed that is was. But let’s take a look to be sure.

Am I too picky? I think we all know that’s bullshit. I’ve limited myself to girls that will say yes. As long as they meet the minimum requirements that the league has in place. This only applies to first and second dates. Subsequent dates need to be earned. And yes, I am still limiting myself to girls. It’s not that bad yet.

Am I not good-looking enough? Sure, probably for some bitches. But those are probably the ones that are too good-looking for me anyway, so we’ve reached an agreement.

Do I not make enough money? Probably not for some people. The ones that are destined to live their lives submerged in their superficial bog of money and toys. One day, these people will look back at their lives and realize that they did everything they had to do to lead the lives that they would truly enjoy. Sorry, there’s no moral here.

Am I not funny enough? OK, go kick yourself in the throat again, please. You’d better stretch first though in case you have to do it again.

Am I not romantic or caring enough? OK, that’s bullshit and I think anybody who knew me when I actually had someone to care about knows this anyway. I once covered a girl’s room with 100 balloons and had the sheet music to a song I had written her lying on her bed with a dozen roses for when she came home. Sadly, the most romantic thing I’ve ever done was back in 1993. Even more sad is the fact that I haven’t had a relationship last as long since then.

Do I beat women up too much? No. I couldn’t hurt a fly. At least not a female one.

Do I cheat on them too much? No. Probably not enough in some cases.=

Am I not good enough in bed? 937-396-7974. Ask for Becky. Or Kiesha. They only know me as Extendo though. I was a clown at their daughter’s birthday party. OK, none of that is true. But by the time we’re that far in our relationship for me to fail at that, I feel the job of getting someone to know me has been accomplished. But I do know how to please women in bed anyway. I give them all the covers.

Am I a weirdo? I don’t know. Everybody’s weird. I don’t really come out and talk about Magic the Gathering and Warcraft on the first date anyway. Unless they bring it up. And if that’s a trap I’m falling into, the hell with that. If conversations we’re having are really just impossible tests designed to make me fail like all other men have before me to make you feel better about yourself when the relationship goes sour, you can go sit on the bitter bus with Meghan “The Ultimate Quizmaster” and enjoy your life in Bitchtown.

Am I too cocky? Only when I get to dress up as Capt Jack Sparrow. And that has been pound for pound my best strategy anyway.

Am I not confident enough? Aha! We found one! But why would I be? I’m a confused narcissist. I have every reason to think that I’m the greatest person in the world but absolutely no evidence to back it up. I have been able to fake confidence for a long time though in short enough bursts. I usually either channel the Jack Sparrow character or just actually drink that much rum instead.

OK, I’m getting tired of this charade. Mostly because I honestly don’t think it’s me. I can’t believe that. I’m a catch. As long as you don’t need money. Or a car radio. Or a guy that can match his clothes. But honestly, as easy as it would be to blame me, or at least my characteristics, I won’t sign off on that. Because not only does it not make sense, but that would be admitting defeat anyway. But with your help, I’m going to figure this out, people! We have some work to do if we’re going to fix this so that I have the first ever truly happy Valentines Day QOTD next year. Feel free to help me out by telling me some other things that I’m good at. Or suck at. Or let me know if you have a hot cousin who just got dumped or something. Again, females only.

Making nothing out of nothing at all,

The Confused Narcissist.


Still Standing Right Here…


QOTD credits: Dave Walker – (The Confused Narcissist)

Wanted: A Bow With a Scope

Wanted: A Bow With a Scope

So this past Wednesday was Valentines Day. Or as I call it, National Singles Awareness Day. Now I’ve taken some fair and some unfair shots at the holiday in the past and I think I’ve about exhausted most of the standard topics of “It’s such a Hallmark holiday’” “It sucks for people in relationships even more,” and “Exactly where is the line between admiration and stalking?” And so I am here to talk about something else. Something off the beaten path. I’m actually going to try to make a case IN FAVOR of Valentines Day, even though the line between admiration and stalking is always a good fallback.

So last year at this time, I was in a… well, some sort of a relationship. I didn’t know exactly what it was then and I still don’t now, but that’s a story for another day in a much more private setting (like a therapist’s office). So this year proved to be a much worse Valentine’s Day since I didn’t have even what I could quantify as an awkward relationship. I had none. Nothing. Squat. Bubka (sp?). But what I have this year that I have in common with last year is hope. Almighty, brilliant and suicide-postponing hope. And this hope manifested itself in the form of a cute redhead in my class who has absolutely no idea how old I am and will NOT until we get to know each other to the point that she’s pot committed. In the relationship that we’re already in inside my very unhealthy mind, this will occur in about 2 weeks. And I vowed to myself that I wasn’t going to hurt this girl ever. Which can be seen in the restraint I showed last week when the other girl in my class (I need to take more classes) eye-raped me in the bar and instead of taking her home, I simply stood there awkwardly and repeated the mantra in head “She’s scaring me… She’s scaring me… She might kill me…” until I convinced myself not to do anything. If you know me well enough, you realize that this pattern of behavior can also be attributed not only to my desire to be a nice guy, but also my ineptitude as a real man. But we’re moving on.

So anyway, this redhead and I have been exchanging extremely obvious looks since day one of class. And I just could not muster up the sac to do or say anything. Every time I tried, I was cursed with another mantra. “She’s only 19... She’s just a child… You’re too old for her... You’ll pull a muscle...” But I finally forced myself into the awkward tension much like those cartoon elephants force themselves into glasses of water at the carnival and I asked her to dinner. It was a smooth line too. “So I have a proposition for you. How about you come and watch me play volleyball and I’ll take you to dinner? OR how about I just take you to dinner?” It was even field-tested on my only other redheaded children’s librarian so I figured it had to work. However, the line wasn’t quite delivered like that. I don’t have transcripts of the tape, but I think it came out much more like “So I have a proposition for you [long awkward pause]… Hey, did you fucking see Lost last night?” OK, it wasn’t that bad, but it didn’t go quite like the way I rehearsed it. Either way, I was doing back flips over the fact that I asked her out. And yes, I wrote that correctly. I was doing back flips merely because I asked her out. That was an accomplishment enough for me. The fact that she said yes just added a reverse handspring into my routine. And I did pull that muscle. Damn mantra.

So I now have a date with a 19-year-old gorgeous redhead from my class who will inevitably read this someday (Hi Sara). And she is the most beautiful, kind, intriguing, intelligent and absolutely beautiful woman there ever could be who could really give me a back massage about now. Unfortunately for this piece, all this happened on the day directly after Valentines Day. Mother Nature thwarted my plans for the actual Valentines Day. Damn her, that thwarter of plans. Thankfully Father Time is on my side. Until I have to tell her how old I am in two weeks. Then I’m going to pretend I don’t even know the man.

Quote of the Day 2/16/07

Two weeks ago…

Ben: “Hey Dustin, in the off chance that you have somebody to buy flowers for this holiday, can you buy them from me? My fraternity is doing this fund-raising [blah, blah, blah].”

Me: “Well, I’m not seeing anybody now. Haven’t in about 9 months. But it is 2 weeks away and smaller miracles have been known to occur. But right now, the forecast doesn’t look too good.”

Ben: “Yeah, I know. That’s why I said ‘in the off-chance.’”

Hey Ben. I’ll take two flowers now. One for Sara and one to shove up your ass. And in the “off-chance” it doesn’t hurt enough, let’s leave the thorns on it.

“You’re not too old for her… You’re not too old for her…”

Dutty.

Still Standing Right Here…

Application To Be Dustin's Valentine

Application To Be Dustin's Valentine

Disclaimer: First of all, realize you are applying to be Dustin Fisher's valentine. Not his steady girlfriend, one night stand, jogging buddy or euchre partner. Secondly, as has been the recent pattern in his dating life, you may only apply if you have a steady boyfriend or are otherwise unattainable (lives 8 hours away, doesn't like men, exists only in his head, etc.). There is an exception noted on line #5. All others, please fill out the form as honestly as you feel he'd want you to.

1. Name _____________________________________

2. Gender (circle one) M / F
(Note: if you did not circle the "F", you're application will be forwarded to Russell Johnson of Columbia, MD)

3. Local address ________________________________________
(please include directions and leave the door open)

4. Phone number _________________________________________
(keep in mind, he knows that rejection hotline number in all area codes)

5. How often do you see a therapist (PTs do not count) on an average week?
A. 4 or more
B. 2 or 3
C. Once
D. None, but I should
(If none of the above apply to you AND you are currently single, your application will be forwarded to Bill Wilcox)

6. How do you know Dustin?
A. I work with him.
B. Through a friend
C. Through facebook
D. I don't know Dustin but a friend forwarded this to me and I'm desperate enough to try anything.

7. What is your ideal Valentines Day date?
A. A train ride up to New York to see Rent, skating in Central Park, dinner at the Four Seasons and a full body massage by the fire in a 5 star hotel.
B. Dinner at the Olive Garden, a couple drinks at a local martini bar, and out to a drive-in movie for a viewing of Hope Floats while snuggling with each other.
C. McDonalds for a few burgers and back to my place to watch reruns of King of the Hill with a box of wine.
D. Smack Ramen and Natty Light while checking out internet porn together.

8. What are you looking to get out of this Valentine's Date Application?
A. To spend an evening with a guy who I don't mind too much.
B. I want to get married soon because my eggs are rotting.
C. Honestly anything, I haven't been allowed out in 5 years.
D. I figure if I go out with Dustin, I have a better chance of hooking up with Bill.

9. What did you do last Valentines Day?
A. Had a romantic evening with my boyfriend/fiancee/husband.
B. Went out with the girls to protest the Hallmark holiday.
C. Hooked up with some guy I don't know because I'm very insecure.
D. Fell asleep on the couch watching Duck Tales.

10. Lastly, the thought of kissing Dustin makes you...
A. Tingle inside
B. Throw up
C. Need to pee
D. Pity others who have

Thank you for your interest in this position. All applications are due to Dustin Fisher by 11pm tonight. Work mandates that he stays until 11:30pm, so your date will begin around midnight. So if you turn into a gremlin if you eat past midnight, I'm sorry you wasted your time. Late or incomplete applications will be accepted as late as pretty much whenever you get it to him. All verbal contracts are binding, regardless of the actual words spoken. Dustin Fisher, Miami University, and hookaplayaup.com are not responsible for any bodily injury that may result of being Dusitn's Valentine. Normal restrictions apply. See store for details.

Masters of Crazy

WARNING: A lot of people were eliminated from this list because of reasons that will become evident soon enough.

Well, thanks accidentally to John's recent e-mail response to my Valentines Day cynical tirade, I figured it all out. Well, some of it. I still don't know who I am and I don't know what to do with this information, but here's what I learned. John asked how old this chick was and said that it sounded like high school bullshit. And he's right, it does. Only it's not. This chick has her masters, owns a house and has a job and everything. (OK, I just had to go back and delete like another 20 addresses to protect her anonymity and my ass - consider yourself the privileged few. Either my good, trusted friends or third rate acquaintances so far removed from my life that you can cause no harm)

So let's recap. The last three college grads I dated, who all also have masters, for whatever the hell that's worth, have the following rap sheet: One lied and told me she was two weeks late to basically avoid going out with me because she was too afraid to tell me she was seeing somebody else. Whatever happened to "I have a headache?" I guess that was too bland for her. Another got upset that I was seeing somebody else after she told me she just wanted to be friends, mostly because I was still nice to her after she turned me down. And I swear to you all, that's it. I didn't fool around with both of them at the same time or anything to honestly be held accountable for in the normal human plane of emotionally stable existence. And then there's the third. Well, we should all know what happened there. Beelzebabe reared her ugly head and spewed forth bullshit from her eyes, whilst her alter ego, "The Ultimate Quizmaster" set up impossible hurdles for me to stumble over so she could still maintain her self-respect if the relationship went sour. Damn! I don't want to shit on everybody's slurpee here, but I just hit a bad case of apples here. Deal with my cynicism. It's funnier than contentment. And now the second part of the equation. Think about the last non-college graduate I dated. Steph. She was awesome and not a day goes by when I don't wish we could still hang out (didn't know I was going here either - and I just had to delete another 8 people. But I also put one back on). But she went and graduated and moved to another country, so that rules her out now anyway. Conclusion? Don't date college graduates. So I need to stick to the college chicks that everybody gives me shit for chasing around. Or the drop-outs. I don't know about that yet, but I'll try anything once. Maybe even twice just to make sure I don't like it. But the point stands. I need to find em young and brainwash them before they inevitably get all fucked up. Shit, I'm tired of deleting names. I'm just gonna suck up those last few comments and take it on the chin.

While I've got all these names deleted, I'm going to do one of the quotes that doesn't exactly put me in a great light. I was at the post office and I needed Mike to go into my bag to get my checkbook to pay for whatever. He reaches in the bag and one particular compartment happened to contain my addressbook, my checkbook and condoms. I now realize how funny that combination of items is, but Mike thought to point it out to me...

Quote of the Day 2/17/05

"Dude, you have your addressbook, condoms and a checkbook all in the same compartment? What's in this one, a shot of penicillin?"

-Mikey McWawa


Actually, I'm allergic to penicillin. It's alpha-phenoxyethyl potassium. And don't look that up. I'm not sure that's right.

Thank God for porn,

D Wreck.


Still Standing Right Here...

Cupid's Curse Continues

Cupid's Curse Continues

So yesterday was Valentines Day. My favorite holiday of the year. It's a little like a Jewish holiday because not everybody really recognizes it as a holiday. I actually slept for 16 hours last night. It was the greatest Valentines Day ever. Except of course for the Valentines Day or Days when I was with one of my ex girlfriends who may still be on this list. Yeah, that was the best. :) I would like to apologize to all women now but you recently had a chick ruin Valentines Day for you, at least as far as it pertains to me. And this isn't even that psycho chick I've been telling you about recently. Anyway, I have a friend. She got mad at me for being nice to her. Now, I know it seems hard to believe, but that was my only crime. We saw each other a few times and she didn't want anything more. OK. Cool. I still want to be good to her, so I got her a couple flowers for Christmas. I thought I was being nice, right? Then she finds out that I went out with this other girl (and we all know how that ended), and she tells me about a week later that she left crying and she was so upset because I made her feel special and she thought she was the only one, even after she told me she didn't want anything with me.

Huh?

I give up, ladies. I tried being myself. I tried being nice. Hell, there was a span of like a month or two where I tried being an ass (comments to yourself please). Really, what are my options? I just lost a pretty good friend for being nicer to her than she wanted me to be. I realize this isn't an everyday occurrence, but I want to play the odds. What do I do? I realize that it's probably best to just be myself, but I've been trying to figure out who I am for like 7 years now. I have been so many different people and they've all been myself. So yeah, I thought to maybe do something cool for a few of you ladies out there for Valentines Day, but I thought better of it. I wouldn't want to piss you off. And just think if I missed anybody? Oooohhhh! There's a can of worms not worth opening. So I went to bed at 7:15. I assume that probably pissed somebody off too.

Sorry. I don't mean to be so cynical, but it seems I've hit a good run of bad luck here. I'm sure by next year I'll have it all figured out. Speaking of which, I was talking about the other girl I was "seeing" and yet never really paying attention to anything she said. Cause I'm an asshole. Or was I just being myself? Anyway, I was thinking of things to do for her for Valentines Day and Cespos came up with a good one...

Quote of the Day 2/14/05

"Maybe you should send her sister flowers."

-Cespos de Bergerac


Or maybe I should just chop my nuts off myself.

Happy Valentines Day!

Dustin Strangelove.


Still Standing Right Here...

REL 100: Remedial Religion

REL 100: Remedial Religion

So I celebrate Christmas, but I know not everybody does. And I'm really glad I do mostly because I don't understand how Judaism works. Sure, Chanukah sounds cool when you're a kid and you get jealous of your Jewish friends that get 8 presents when you only get that cardboard drum with the Quaker on it. But you'd have to convert to a whole other religion to do that. And that's a lot of work. You'd have to learn how to read backwards and wear the part of a hat that they cut out to make visors. And lots of other stuff like that. But Judaism is more than just a religion. It's a culture and it's almost like a race. How can you be half Jewish? What's the other half? If possible, I'd like to be half Jewish and half Christian to cover my ass, if that's an option. But then you get people that convert to Judaism with no background in it at all. I think. I should put up a disclaimer now that all of my information about the Jewish heritage comes from "The Hanukkah Song" by Adam Sandler. And off topic, I think it would have been funnier if the song was by Chaka Khan (get it, Chanukkah by Chaka Khan?). I'm sure there's a better joke in there somewhere, but I'm tired.

So anyway, these people that convert aren't really Jewish at all to begin with. I still don't quite get it. Can you decide to be part of the culture, but not the religion? Or vice versa? And can you just be Jewish when you need to get off for random holidays like Rosh Hashanikuh? But it's not like Christmas is any better. It's a religious holiday you don't even need to be religious to celebrate. You think all those people that celebrate Christmas are Christians, well you musta just fell off the Gullible Wagon. It's the default holiday. And somewhere along the line, they even took the Christ out of Christmas and replaced it with an X. Like you do in algebra. It's the age old science vs religion debate playing out under our noses on one of the most sacred (or secular) days of the year and we never even knew it! Those secret society masons are clever. And like all Christian holidays, it has a completely unrelated figure to make it more fun for kids. As a kid, I actually questioned what the heck this fat bearded old man had to do with the birth of Jesus Christ, our Savior. And why is New Years a whole week later, if that's supposed to be based on the birth of Christ (you know, BC and AD)? I'm sure somebody's got an answer to that. And I don't have time to get into Easter just now, but it took me a while to come to the realization that rabbits don't even have eggs. Why are they both synonymous with Easter? But hey, it (Christmas) is still the greatest holiday, no matter where your personal Christmas (or Hannukah) comes from. So who am I to ruin it with all this speculation? I'll ruin it in many other ways. :) And who the hell came up with Quanza? Like we don't have enough to try to figure out with these two wacky holidays. And I need to ask a favor of all of my friends. There's nothing I hate more during the holiday season than getting stressed out over buying gifts and making sure I don't offend anybody. So I've decided I'm not getting stressed out about it. I have also however, jam packed my calendar full with crap to do from now until the big day. And I haven't really started my Christmas shopping yet. Which also means I haven't finished it yet. It seems like this goes on almost every year, but this year is a lot worse. So I'll need you good friends of mine to bite the bullet on this one. Here's a conversation I could have had with Tony at his Christmas party this year:

Me: "Hey Tony. Sorry, but your present hasn't come in the mail yet."
Tony: "Don't worry about it."
Me: "Actually, I haven't even ordered it yet."
Tony: "..."
Me: "Well, to be honest, I haven't even figured out what I'm gonna get you yet."

I'm scheduling a special Dustin Christmas for sometime around Presidents Day. I don't think we'll all be getting together like we would on Christmas, but I think the deadline will help. And the extra added surprise will make it all the more special. Some of you may recognize this theory as the same one I use for Valentines Day. I've actually been applying this to all aspects of my life for years, I've just been playing along for the holidays for the last 11 years. Anyway, I'm out of time to be creative, so you may all get the same thing this year. And chances are it will be a UMBC day camp T-shirt, but that will really just be a proxy until the real holiday. President's Day.

Coming back from a football game, a few of us were in the car and this squirrel jumped out in front of the car. He ran halfway across the street, and cut back really quick, then doubled back and I didn't know what to do to help, so I just drove straight and somehow the little guy went underneath the car and came out the other side unscathed and running to the other side of the road...

Quote of the Day 12/20/04

"Did you see the moves on him? He's like the Dante Hall of squirrels."

-B Ferg


The Priest Holmes of squirrels was still sitting on the other curb in street clothes.

The Dante Hall of internet humor,

D Rec.


Still Standing Right Here...

A Canuck Valntine

A Canuck Valntine

Sorry I haven't gotten to you guys in a week, but my keyboard was plowed in. :

HOLY LOW PRESSURE SYSTEM, BATMAN! That was just insane! I just kept looking out the window and it just kept coming. I went to bed and woke up and it was still snowing. I did the same thing again, and it was still snowing. Steph's cousin and friend from Canada said they've never seen it snow for that long. They said when it snowed that much in Toronto last year, they had to call in the National Guard. Well, what else are they gonna do?

Meanwhile... back in Baltimore... I dug my car out Sunday afternoon and pretended I was going to drive it to school. After an hour and a half had gone by and I managed to get it out of the alley (we didn't even have to dig it out yet) and into the gas station less than 40 feet from my front door, fishtailing, spinning wheels, dropping radiator fluid by the liter, rocking from 1st to reverse, 1st to reverse, we decided to pack it in, cut our losses and not risk my bald ass tires (no more illegal metal studs on this one) on any road where other cars may want to go anywhere at a rate faster than 40 feet per hour and a half. And so back in the alley I went. For a while.

I missed my annual Valentines Day bashing QOTD because of the snow and the fact that we were waiting for Steph's cousin and friend who accidentally made a right at Harrisburg on their way down. But anyway, Geoff was asking me what I was doing for Valentine's Day and I told him I was going out with Steph and her two Canuck friends to Luigi Petti for dinner...

Quote Of the Day 2/24/03

"Is that how Canadians celebrate, with a three on one?"

-American Geoff

No.

Playing near the snow drift of tactlessness,

Snowed In Cricket.


Still Standing Right Here...

Deer John

Deer John

Well I know I spoke of the Valentines Day curse that I have and tried to convince myself that I actually wasn't experiencing it this year. Well, somebody must have heard me. Sometime last night, my driver side rear window imploded. As if that wasn't enough, my ratchet set and about $2.45 in change managed to escape through the broken window. So Happy V-Day to me. Actually, whoever did it was comparatively decent about it. On one hand, sure they broke my window and took my stuff, but on the other hand, they only broke the small triangular window that doesn't roll down anyway, and they didn't take my jumper cables or audio cassette of Paul Reiser's Babyhood. Maybe the guy just needed a ratchet set. He (or she, don't want to be sexist here) didn't bother to break into my other car and take all my tennis rackets and volleyballs and stuff. Oh well. I get to see my good buddies at Safelite again. And at least I didn't hit a deer. ;)

Tony hit a deer last Thursday. More appropriately, the deer hit him. He said it came running out of the woods like a cornerback going for a tackle. And the deer managed to run or limp off afterwards. But until Tony's appointment to get the thing fixed, he's driving around with a crushed bumper and fur sticking out of his headlight. Not to mention the hoof print on his hood. In fact, the deer might be the jerk who broke into my car. A deer with a vengeance. So if anybody sees a deer limping around the woods with a ratchet set, tell him he owes me $2.45.

This quote came in response to me telling Teresa, the subject of last night's quote, that I was hesitant to send the e-mail because he didn't want her to take it the wrong way and ditch my good buddy...

Quote Of the Day 2/15/01

"Don't worry about me and Mike..we'll screw things up ourselves before you ever have a chance to ruin it with quotes or...reason and such"

-Mrs. Little Boy Hair Girl Freelander


He's a guy. He's got to screw it up eventually anyway. Even without my help.

Always gotta be the window,

Mr. Glass.


Still Standing Right Here...

Floating Valentine's Day

Floating Valentine's Day

I know yesterday I referred to being alone on Valentine's Day as "the Valentine's Day curse." Well, I'd like to retract that statement. It's easy to be depressed and say it sucks when you spend V-Day alone, but I think I've been looking at things all wrong. I'm the lucky one. This holiday doesn't suck for me, it sucks for them. Those poor unfortunate boyfriends/husbands that are required to make some sort of attempt to not screw up the V-Day. And I'm sure that's precisely what they're thinking. I'm a guy. We probably fuck up 80% of the times we try anyway, and with all the expectations and pressure of trying to make this the most romantic day of her year, we're bound to bungle it up. Romance should be spontaneous, not one planned day every year. Take it from a guy who hasn't been in a serious relationship in 4 years, I should know. Here's what you do whenever you start dating somebody. You say, "OK, we're going to have a Valentine's Day, but it's not going to be on February 14th. And I'm not going to tell you when it's going to be." That not only adds to the spontaneity, and thus the romance, but it buys you another 10 1/2 months to figure something out. I'm brilliant! I'm going to try to apply this to other areas of my life too. Like Christmas. And filing my taxes. I've already started doing it with laundry day. So anyway, when you start to feel lonely tonight, just think of all the poor schmucks who are presently letting their girlfriends/wives down. I'm glad I got cut. Actually, her agent told me she wants to continue talks about a possible short term contract if I haven't already signed with another team or retired. I think this metaphor has gone on too long. Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day all! I hope you all at least broke even. I'm going to go watch Temptation Island with Russ and Tony now.

This quote came from a conversation I had with Evil Lance McFreelander as he was in the process of signing his contract a few weeks ago with Little Boy Hair Girl (I need to start renicknaming my friends again). Anyway, he was trying to describe to me the state of being his relationship with Teresa was in...

Quote Of the Day 2/14/01

Me: "So are you guys exclusive now?"
Mike: "Well... kinda."
Me: "Well, if she goes out with somebody else, would you get pissed?"
Mike: "Yeah."
Me: "And if you go out with somebody else, would she get pissed?"
Mike: "Gosh, I hope not."


Where do I sign?

Cupid's arch nemesis,

Achilles.


Still Standing Right Here...

Diving on the Grenade

Diving on the Grenade

I normally don't like to go too far into detail about my personal life on this list - wait, that's a lie. But I don't really like to exploit my failures for the amusement of the masses. OK, that's a HUGE lie. But this sucks. I've reached an all-time low in Dustin - girl relationships. I was dumped twice in the span of a week. Well, OK. I guess I was probably more appropriately dumped once and just kinda cut the second time. More like an unrestricted free agent that just wasn't signed again. But I told you I wouldn't talk about football anymore. And the first time probably wasn't so much "dumped" as it was just designating me as a transitinoal player instead of a franchise player. And the second time was probably what hurt more, because not only was that the one I REALLY wanted to work, but it was the second time in a fucking week. I mean, come on! A man can only take striking out so much before he throws the bat down in disgust and gets fined for hurling a water cooler at the heckling fans. But this wasn't even striking out so much as getting tricked. Like getting picked off on that fake baseball, throwing the potato over the first baseman's head play. See there's a not-so-affectionate term that some of us guys refer to as "diving on the grenade." It can be more tactfully called being the wing man. It's the guy that talks to the really pretty girl's... well, not-so-pretty friend so your friend can talk to the pretty chick. It's a very noble man that does this job proficiently.

This past Friday, I was the grenade. I came to that realization fairly early but chose to ignore it. Besides, we had hit it off pretty well despite the circumstances which could have possibly led us to one another. So then I thought that maybe I wasn't really the grenade, but it was just a coincidence. I can't tell if my initial thought was the pessimist in me coming out or if the justification was the optimist peeking through. At any rate, I'm willing to accept defeat again. It's the damn Valentines Day curse. Cupid's got the arrows sharpened and pointed the right way, but the tips are laced with cyanide.

Well, I was telling a mutual friend of me and the girl about how we met that Friday night. Maybe she was "diving on the grenade," but I wasn't the only guy with the non-grenade guy...

Quote Of the Day 2/12/01

"So at least you were the best of all the other grenades."

-Chris Hudsucker Augsburger


Not really, I was just the least explosive of all of them.

Kicking Cupid in the nuts,

Exploding Cricket.


Still Standing Right Here...

The Valentines Virus

I don't knock Valentine's Day as a national holiday, but I have to question a few things about it. Does anybody else find it disturbing that those little candy hearts that used to say stuff like "Be mine" and "You're cool" now say things like "You suck," "Fuck off," and "Stop following me around, you pink hatted bastard!"? And why are they all of a sudden written in pen too?

Seriously, the little hearts now say stuff like "outta web site" and "click here" and "upload my floppy." OK, one of those is a lie. Actually, two of them are a lie, and I'm not sure about the other one, but I know there was a common theme. The internet has grown so fast, it has now taken over Valentine's Day. What's next? A tale of this virtual bunny that hops to everyone's house hiding little tiny mouse balls for the boys and girls to find in their hard drives, and only their Mother board knows where they are?

Well, anyway, we were at dinner the other night, and I was asking people a little sports trivia just for kicks. The question at hand was whether or not there were more people in the NBA over 7 feet or under 6 feet. I asked around and Russ answered that he thought there were more people under 6 feet than people over 7 feet tall. I informed him that he was wrong and the answer was that there are actually more people in the NBA that are over 7 feet than under 6 feet...

Quote of the Day 2/16

"That would have been my second guess."
-Russ


Actually, we all know that would have been at least his third guess.



Love, Liberace, and the pursuit of hacky sacks,
Screaming Cricket.


Still Standing Right Here...

The Ride Is Over

OK,since this is a special day, I'll give you guys a special treat today. First of all, I hate about 95% of all love poetry, so in order for there to be a love poem that I could appreciate, I had to write one myself. It hits close to home, and I hope it lightens up anybody out there who is cynical when it comes to Valentine's Day and the undertones associated with it. Hope you enjoy...

The Ride Is Over

The ride is now over, the thrill is now gone
But it still looks as tempting as when you got on
The hills seem much higher and plentifully more
And the valleys don't seem quite as steep as before.

You beg and you plead that they must let you stay
But more people get on and they push you away
You cannot leave now - One last trip would be fine
But to get on again, you must get back in line.

The ride is now over, the fun is all gone
The chest bar has risen - you want to stay on
And as you flashback to the thrill of the ride
Your frail body shutters, you feel good inside.

You glance one last time at those admission gates
But there's no time for that; more pleasure awaits
There are plenty of rides in your favorite theme park
And another few hours before it gets dark.


by Dustin Fisher


and that's why I'm...

Still Standing Right Here...

Looking For Love in All the Wrong Places

And now introducing... Katey Springle, the Patriot Missile of Humor.

Thanks, Katey. That same thought occurred to me, and two other people who responded to me without making sure the rest of the non-English major people who I write to knew how incompetent I was when it came to saying things that have to do with words. But thank you nonetheless for proving my ignorance to all of my 140 closest friends. (Like they didn't know already)


I know Valentine's Day is not the most fun day in the world for most of the people I hang out with, but here's my advice. Get over it. It shouldn't depress you if you aren't seeing somebody at this time of year. I mean think about all the poor unfortunate guys who are seeing somebody right now. They are probably all stressing out because they have some sort of societal standard to live up to. That's what I always did (OK, once) when I was actually seeing somebody when this day rolled around. Believe me, we're better off than them. And some people decided to celebrate the holiday by playing Quake in their room. Hey, there's a much shorter line than the Cheesecake Factory, the prices are lower, and you're supplied with grenades and bazookas at your discretion. Beat that! Well, anyway, Robyn, Angela and Tracy were all encouraging Greg to go out and do something on this day of love. Angela brought up the fact that... well, hell, here's the whole conversation...

Quote of the Day 2/14/1998

Angela: "You have to go out today. You have your touch me, feel me shirt on."
Robyn: "Yeah, you need to start trying to find someone."
Greg: "I AM trying!"
Me: "Greg, there aren't any in your room."
Greg: (pause) "I didn't say I was trying hard."



That's the attitude, Greg. Eventually, they will come to you. Take it from a guy that's been single for over a year. I know. ;)


Love, loneliness, and revenge,
Dustin.

Valentines Aftermath

WOW!!!! That was the most replies we've gotten in a while! I personally don't mind them, because I have nothing better to do than to dink around in the computer lab anyway, but try to keep the one line unnecessary replies to a minimum. Most people hate paging through a lot of crap just to get to "HeHeHe. That was funny." And I don't want a rerun of last year, where everybody asked to stop getting the quote not because of the quote, but because they couldn't tolerate the replies. I already had one person ask to be discluded from the list and whoever mails me back with who it is first, gets a dollar. That sounds fun, and relatively cheap.

Secondly, Weed: I know as well as you do that I don't despise love or a holiday that celebrates it. But I, as do most people, knock it because we are without others and don't want to be depressed on such a day that promoted love. A rational alternative is to if nothing else, pretend to be bitter. Besides, I'm so good at it. Ask Laura. Thirdly, Chris and my little attempt to bring smiles to all the girls of Susquehanna (and scattered few in the other dorms), did not have the turnout we expected. Two were actually returned (very cold), and a few people have told me that other people that we gave Valentines to think Chris or myself is obsessed with them. So instead of 210 girls thinking we did something sweet on Valentines Day, 210 girls think we're stalking them. But I did get a few compliments, so thanks those of you who did. But actually, most people were more confused than enlightened by the gesture. Oh, well.

Going along with the theme of bitterness, I was having a conversation of Greg about one of his first ex-girlfriends and he had this to say about her...

Quote of the Day 2/15/96

"I cried for three days. It was a really bitter break-up. But then she got fat and I felt better."
Your favorite Greg and mine.



Sleeping with the television on,
Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...

A Valentine For the Ages

A Valentine For the Ages

Alright guys, I know that that new quote for a name thing I'm trying might be annoying, so tell me if you want me to change it or not. I like feedback. I figured if the list is going to be really long to scroll through, I could at least make it interesting.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!! It was weird. I walked around all yesterday really sick and completely energyless without a significant other on Valentine's Day, wondering why I was happy. I just felt good and I had no reason to. So I stopped thinking about it for fear that it might go away when I realized that I hate my life. But rather than sulk in self-pity on the night that everyone was out with their Schnookeylumps, I decided to do something about it. A friend told me that he and another friend bought 6 1/2 dozen roses and gave them to 78 girls in Chesapeake. That is roughly half of the dorm's population of girls. Well, now my giving (or competitive) nature kicked in. Chris (Angst Boy) and I were in Giant when I convinced him to buy every girl in Susquehanna a card and a Hershey's hug. Chris was upset they had just ran out of Hershey's Fucks, but what can you do. So we proceeded to hand sign every one, 210 in all, and leave them to every girl in Susquehanna. When we were done, we still had about 42 left and roughly 250 hugs. SO we went to all the other dorms and gave them to everyone we saw and spelled out a little message for Eddie, my friend who came up with the roses idea: BEAT THIS!!! -D&C. And we still went home alone, but damnit, it felt good. And it was better than the beer and porno evening that I had planned. And probably a little better than the farm animal and small children evening Chris had planned. So HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY to you all!!! But if anybody asks, I still hate the holiday.

Quote of the Day 2/14/96

"A man can be perfectly happy with any woman... as long as he doesn't love her."
-Somebody smart



Love, candy, and that "good" feeling,
Cupid.


Still Standing Right Here...

Valentines Quickie

Well, the day is coming. Buy your flowers and candy now!! Or your beer and Smack Ramen noodles, depending on what you're planning to do that night. And if any of you know any single girls out there, tell them sorry, but I'll be busy Wednesday. I have to prepare for the coming of Goser. Bad timing. Well, since I know none of you read this crap unless it's really short, I'll cut off now and give you today's...

Quote of the Day 2/12/96

"Chocolate syrup comes off really easily in the shower. I know!!"
-Kadybug "Dickless" Springle


Looking for the other five monkeys,
Dustin.


Still Standing Right Here...