for marcie

While growing up it is a rite of passage to be tortured under the hands of your older siblings and family members. At least that's how it went in my family. I had my fair share of whoopings and emotional scars, but it was nothing like the pain endured by the younger ones in my family. Luckily for me I was one of the eldest. Today I look back fondly on one particular youngin' from the family, for she was the target of much torture. She flew the coupe this past Friday to start her first year at college. Damn, I'm getting old.

There were about eight of us, all cousins from our mother's side. One set of cousins had three boys and one girl, being the youngest. Another set included three girls. Then there was me, the lone ranger. I am discounting my sister because she sucks and is irrelevant to the story. I was the oldest child out of this group of eight, so I had a considerable amount of power and respect among them. That's over now, but the memories are sweet.

We all loved the family get together's because that was prime play time. Our games consisted mostly of choosing one of the runts and making them be our tool. For example, in the game of tag, they would be "it" every single god forsaken time. For hours too. We would make them chase us long after one would have thought the game technically ended. We took tag to new levels. There was this game of uber tag we played once, around my grandmother's apartment complex. Our prime victim, one of my youngest female cousins, really was the target of and basis behind our evil childhood games. In our game of uber tag, we pretended that she was a monster and made her chase around the apartment complex. In her mind, this was no game, but to us it was sheer exhilaration.

For hours on end she chased after us in complete hysterics, crying and screaming. The rawness of her emotion only fueled us; we really became immersed in to our roles since she was playing the part of the monster so well. Her face was bright red with tears and snot dripping down it, she actually did look sort of monster-esque. I know it's wrong, but man oh man was that fun! We kind of made the game a tag/hide-and-go-seek hybrid. So there were, hiding in the laundry facility and we could hear her tearing through the complex shrieking like a banshee. Soon she would find us and we would run away giggling maniacally, only angering her further. That just made it more fun. However, the game would eventually become boring because she wouldn't be able to find us, but that was no problem; we would just make her aware of our presence and the games continued. Eventually we completely wore her out and we noticed this only because she was staggering and gasping for breath in between sobs. We were so evil, however, that we began taunting her in order for her to continue chasing us around. It worked for a little while too. This act was very much like poking someone with a stick over and over until they snapped.

Yeah, that's one good example of the torment endured by my baby cousin. There were other incidents believe you me, but there's only so many stories I can tell. It's odd to think that after being so cruel, which was purely a result of jealousy because everybody loved her and not the rest of us, my little cousin and I became so close when we got older. We aren't like soul sisters or anything, but I love her to pieces and I'm told the feeling is mutual. I even asked her, "Do you harbor any hatred for me whatsoever? Because if you do, I totally understand". And she insists that she doesn't, sweet little thing.

In fact, this may be sort of a stretch, but this tough love that was given may have turned out to be a good thing. That girl turned out to be a very driven and self motivated individual. Kind of anal, actually. But in a good way. Hence, she excelled in everything that she did and got a full ride scholarship to college. So you never know which way the ball will bounce; torment (in small doses of course) can either create a driven person who's set out to prove themselves or it can make you go postal, a la Eric Harris Dylan Klebold. It's a toss up. I guess my family got lucky.

Marcie, I love you baby girl. You rock. Oh, and sorry about the tag incident at grandma's.

clumsy ox

I'm a classic klutz. I manage to hurt myself very easily, trip in front of others, knock stuff over and I always always spill food on my clothes when I eat. So it's no wonder that I seem to embarrass myself more than the next guy. If it's not by my doing, then I am unlucky enough to be humiliated by some other means.

I had one of those moments were you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you at work the other day. I work at my school and being that it's almost time for school, it was orientation day for all the new international students. The kids were gathered in one large meeting room and all the staff got filed in there like cattle to introduce themselves. As we walked in single file, my co-worker in front of me brushed against the curtain rod along the wall, causing it to swing forward and perfectly smack me in the face as it swung back. It happened in unison, perfectly humiliating and even more so because the rod hit my glasses, which made a loud noise. The loud noise caused those who hadn't already seen this travesty in process, to turn and view it just in time. I heard a few muffled scoffs and snickers shortly thereafter. My reaction? I could do nothing but gasp in horror, in disbelief almost. Then after that I got to introduce myself to the crowd. "Hi, my name is Cynthia. You may remember me as the girl who just got bitch slapped by a curtain rod." That's the way they will remember me anyway.

It was almost as embarrassing as the time I stood up right underneath a fire extinguisher box in the hall in front of my chemistry lab class. My skull also made a thunderous noise when it met with the box, causing everybody to go, "OOOHHHHH!" Utterly pathetic.

When God, when? When's gonna be my time?!

concerts for dummies

PJ Harvey made a rare appearance in San Diego. I went to go see her this past Friday and I must say, she kills. I love going to shows not only for the band but for the whole experience, especially the people watching. There's always something interesting to stare at when a large group of people ranging between the ages of 21 to 40 get thrown together into a venue. I witnessed a few spectacles myself, nothing out of the ordinary, but amusing nonetheless. Want to hear it, here it goes...

It amazes me that people still haven't gotten the concept of "shows" down quite right. Given, you can get a pretty good feel of whether there is going to be a mellow crowd with minimal pushing and shoving, or whether you will be surrounded with those who like to "rock out with their cocks out". Either way, when dealing with general admission, you should be ready for anything (within reason).

I always get stuck standing by the freako who is alone and aggro, but I deal with it. So of course, I get stuck standing behind this tall guy (I'm 5'1) who's wasted on ecstasy or something. He kept yelling, "I love you!" after each and every song ended and was continually flipping off the people standing on the balcony for some reason. It didn't really bother me too much, I just minded my own biz. Then of course you have your two token "hot" girls who are completely over dressed and linked arm in arm, that decide to start pushing violently through the crowd half-way through the show. It never fails, anytime I go to a show that's in a large bar setting I encounter two sluts who decide they need to be in the front, pronto. They use an overly bitchy approach and topple over anyone in their path on their way up, as if saying "fuck standing in the back like everyone else, I'm wearing a tube top!" It doesn't matter that the people who really wanted to be up close got there early and stood waiting for two hours straight before the band started. Those girls didn't give a rats ass. But you know who did? Freaky aggro guy on ecstasy. Yeah, he nearly punched them when they pushed him on their way through the crowd. I think he elbowed one of them in the gut. That calmed them down real quick and they kind of faded into the background after that.

There were these two dudes who were really rocking out and they obviously wanted to get closer to the stage. So they kind of bum rushed past me and a few others, but it really wasn't necessary because everyone was just calmly standing there. So one can imagine the crowd not really feeling them at that moment. Hell I wasn't pleased, I nearly got knocked over. Yet I wasn't pissed either, because I know it comes with the territory. Sure it was a prick move, but who am I to try and stop them? Trying to stop this type of occurrence from happening only makes a scene for one, and it makes you look like a dorko crybaby. This brings me to my next point, people standing right in front of the stage should not be shocked when others push, shove and try to get closer. When it comes to general admission, it's a free for all. Still, every show I go to I hear people, girls particularly, whining and crying about a little pushing and shoving. It makes me crazy. If it's too rough, get out! Go sit in the bleachers or something. What's worse is those who try to not let people go past them. What's the point of that? They're just like those a-holes who don't let you pass them on the freeway. No reason in particular, they just don't want you in front of them. It's some sort of ego thing. I see it this way, if someone is pushing their way to the front, they obviously really want to be in the front and are willing to fight for it. I'm not going to risk getting clothes lined or elbowed just to stop them from getting in front of me. Big deal, go ahead. They obviously want it more than I do.

So case in point, a group of girls having a girls night out nearly boxed with the two guys who bum rushed to the front. Those girls got really mad. A pushing and shoving match ensued between them, back and forth for minutes at a time. It was amusing to watch. Soon after this dude said to one of the guys in response to the pushing, "Hijo de su madre, guey". I guess since the two guy's who bum rushed forward looked ethnic enough for the other dude to assume they were Hispanic, he decided to address them in their native tongue. Very clever of him. What was even more clever was the Hispanic guy's response which was simply, "I'm sorry I don't speak Spanish" and then looking away. Clearly this was a lie, because he and his friend were speaking Spanish the whole time. Haha. Boy, did that guy feel dumb. Stupendous!

Ok, so what did we learn?

1. When at shows, don't shit yourself when people start pushing.
2. If people are trying to push their way to the front, let them; no use in stopping the inevitable. They will knock you down if they have to.
3. If you are pushing your way to the front, be reasonable about it. That means you, late twenty-something pseudo hot broads. Don't take advantage of the fact that you think you're cute (not everyone thinks so) and rudely push people out of the way. Have some class.

Follow these three simple rules and we will all live well and prosper at our favorite shows!

gas on the right, breaks on the left

Lately there's been a trend. People seem to be getting the gas and break pedal confused, which can be pretty detrimental. You remember that old man that mowed down dozens of people at a farmers market in LA...bad times. Well recently one of my co-workers did the exact same thing, sans mowing down a dozen people. Thankfully no one got killed, but it wasn't pretty nonetheless. Apparently, as she was parking she mistakenly hit the gas instead of the break. The crappy part is, our employee parking lot is on a hill overlooking a not so busy street lined with parked cars. So she puts a considerable amount of elbow grease into pressing down on the gas, as we all would if we thought it was the breaks. In turn, she got launched atop the side railing, over the hill and onto a parked car. Shitty! Yep, she landed plum on top of another car. It was demolished of course. And so was her ego. On top of being traumatized, she was pretty embarrassed. She got made fun of by most of us, but not until well after she had stopped crying. We had the decency to allow her to calm down and pull herself together before we really started lacing into her. She was a real sport about it though. We have pictures of it posted in the office.

Then just a week or two later my mom tells me she nearly slammed into a pole near my grandma's house after she got the gas and break confused. She hauled so much ass when mistakenly hitting the gas that she left skid marks. Good thing she was able to get it together and hit the break before it was too late.

Image wrecking your car because you got the gas and break confused? The sillyness of it all. I almost did it once, but I was 16 and barely learning how to drive. My friend and I went joy riding in her dads car. We didn't have licenses, but her dad let us take it for a spin around the block. Coolest parents ever. When I pulled into her driveway I nearly crashed into her garage door. Another case of the old gas and break confusion. What a dumb way to crash a car. Accidents happen and all, but it would suck having one happen to you in a stupid way like that. It's kind of like Sonny Bono dying from crashing into a tree while skiing. That is such a retarded way to die. Poor dope. He gets the Darwin award. Truly, that would be the worst case scenario; actually dying from a dumb accident. I think that qualifies as the Webster' definition of going out like a chump. At least he doesn't have to explain himself to anyone. HI-yo. If I believed in it, I'd be going to hell for sure .

girlie men

I love that my state's governer called people "girlie men" in a public speech. It's not at all an embarassment, not by any means. I hate myself for not voting.

which wife beater shall i wear today?

I have theorized that men can be placed into two categories: those who wear wife beaters as an undershirt and those who wear wife beaters as attire. I've noticed that men, American men at least, that wear wife beaters on a day to day basis tend to be very particular types of men. Perhaps they are the types that can open a beer bottle with their teeth. Perhaps they are the types that want to show off their tats. Perhaps they are the types that tend to show off their bodies when they really shouldn't. They are obviously too sexy for their shirts, in their minds, so day after day they put on that uniform of theirs. Rain, sleet, hail, snow; it doesn't matter. Wife beater it is and wife beater it shall be.

There's this dude in my social psychology class who wears a wife beater every day. He doesn't miss a beat. Everyday. He must have one of those Ronald McDonald style closets, where everything is the same but there's about twenty wife beaters to choose from.

The world is the wife beater wearers oyster and they can wear all the wife beaters they want until their heart's content. They just look lame, is all.