If someone could discover a cure for the need to sleep that didn’t involve drinking either 3 Monsters, 5 cups of coffee or the equivalent, imagine the kind of life you could live.

Assuming you get 6 hours of sleep each night (which isn’t even the “recommended” amount), you’re spending 25% of your day doing nothing more than being unconscious.  If you lived to the ripe old age of 75, that’s 18.75 years of your life spent doing nothing at all.  Think about it.  If you served your “sleep-time” starting from the moment you were born, you’d be able to wake up and experience existence for the very first time by driving yourself to go watch an R-rated movie, go buy a cigar, vote for some old douchebag and walk into a titty bar.

Billions of dollars of research is going into developing treatments for people diagnosed with terrible diseases that allow them to extend their life expectancy by 1 year, 5 years, 10 years.  Why is nobody doing research into curing sleep?

I’m pretty sure we’d all like to extend our lives by 18.75 years.

So I’m at work and open up my web browser.  Yahoo! is set as my home page … I love how they show me my teams’ sports scores, link to my fantasy teams, and post various interesting news tidbits.  Well, Yahoo! presents me with a link to an article titled “The Social Side of Obesity: You Are Who You Eat With”.  Along with this article is a picture with the caption “How obesity can be contagious” … and the picture apparently depicts obesity.  Here’s a screenshot of what I saw (click the image for a better view):

Being the not-so-intelligent guy that I am, I was naturally drawn to the picture first.  I immediately thought, “Awesome, this article must be about nice asses.  I am now interested.  Thank you, Yahoo!, for making my day a little bit more entertaining.  I shall read this.  But first, let me shift my eyes over and read what this headline has to say about ….. WHAT?! … OBESITY?!”

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Do you see any “obesity”?  Cause I sure don’t.  You wanna know what I see?  One girl with no ass, and one girl with a NICE ass.  Nice ass  = obesity?!

Pffffffff, if that’s the case, then Girl #1 needs to go find herself some obesity.

Is summer really over already?

Back in May, I didn’t think I’d be asking this question, seeing as how I don’t really have a “summer.”  It’s interesting how the experience of summer as a student differs from the experience of summer as a working adult.  When Summer 2009 was approaching, I didn’t exactly look forward to months of being able to sleep in, stay up late, and do just about whatever I felt like doing.  Instead, I just figured it’d get a lot hotter when I was at work.  I knew there were a couple of things to be done over the summer (2009 Conference in Chicago, visits to LA, etc.), but most other things revolved around my everyday life: wake up, eat, shit, work, Fraternity, eat, TV, sleep.  Same ‘ole, same ‘ole.

Rewind to May or so.  Roommate told me he was moving out, meaning I either had to find another roommate or find another place (ended up finding another roommate).  Then he decided he wasn’t moving out.  Then he was, then he wasn’t.  After about a month of not knowing, he decided: he wasn’t moving out.  Despite all the confusion, I was pretty glad to know I’d be living with the same guy for another year.  I think we’ve grown accustomed to one another … The Office, Entourage, tennis / basketball, Lakers, video games, couch laziness, wine nights.  “Good start to my summer,” I thought.

Roommate also decided he was going to be traveling to Europe for some program he’d applied to (for good posts about this experience, see his blog).  I guess I was a little jealous: jealous that he had the “student summer” and the opportunity to experience something great.  I suppose that’s one of the benefits of being a teacher?  Not only that, he’d be traveling to EUROPE.  Awesome, no?  Turns out that there was just as much indecision in preparing for this trip as there was with deciding whether he’d move out or not: didn’t pack until the night before (haha, we all had a good time egging him on as he asked us different questions about things he should pack), didn’t buy some needed supplies (had to let him take my deodorant, haha), left stuff in the kitchen (finding food a month later was not that great, LOL), but the biggest thing: didn’t look for a sub-letter until about a week before his departure.  I suppose if I had to prep for a trip to Europe, I’d probably be pretty unorganized, too.  How the heck do you prepare for living in another country for more than a month?

I thought that this procrastination could only end with me having to live with a 35-year old, weird married man (which, believe it or not, was actually an option he proposed to me).  When you have 3 days to find someone to sublet, you can’t exactly be that picky.  Still, I said no … “Ain’t no way I’m settling for the first person you find.”  As it turns out, though, things ended up working out … which is what we both kind of assumed would happen.  “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end,” we kept saying.  A day or two before Roommate left, he ended up finding a 20-something moving out to the Bay Area looking for a job.  Nice.

Those of you who’ve lived with a sub-letter know what it can be like at first.  I picked Sub-Letter up from the BART station late one night and made small talk on the way home.  I hate awkward silence, even if awkward conversation is the only alternative.  Asked where he was from, where he went to school, talked sports, etc.  I made an effort to bring the guy around to all the random things I’d do.  Went on hikes with friends.  Blakes.  Movies.  Mini-golf.  Interestingly enough, some of my friends became his friends, my drinking holes became his drinking holes, etc. … things turned out to work fairly well.

I ended up traveling to Chicago in June for a Fraternity Conference.  I hate flying, but it actually wasn’t too bad.  Watched the Dodgers play the White Sox on the Southside (Dodgers got whooped).  It was very hot.  It was very humid.  Solution?  COLD BEER!  I got sick and thought I was about to die at one point during the trip, though … but still, I had a GREAT FREAKIN’ TIME.  Definitely need to travel back to Chicago at some point.

I kept up with Roommate over the summer.  I thought it was pretty neat that I was talking to the guy while he was a world away.  I enjoyed reading his blog posts.  He’d sometimes see pictures I’d post on Facebook of Sub-Letter and I hanging out, and he’d joke he was being replaced.  I thought about that.  Is that what it looked like?  Was that actually happening?

Nah … of course not.

I can’t say one person is better than the other, or one person is a better roommate than the other.  I think I can have just as good a time with either guy.  Still, at this apartment, Roommate will always be Roommate, and Sub-letter will always be Sub-letter.  No priority given to one over another — just a title, I guess.

Still, it was funny when Roommate got back.  Immediately told my girlfriend and me that Sub-Letter must have smelled, because his sheets stank.  Being that Sub-Letter had become a good friend over the course of the summer, I didn’t exactly know how to respond.  Tried to defend Sub-Letter a bit, but mainly ignored it.  I was just glad Roommate was back and wanted to hear all the stories he had to tell (I still need to see the pictures, too).

Well, when it came up again in one of his blog posts, with a couple of other goodies, I figured I had to clear things up a bit!

1.  Had I known when roommate would get back, there would’ve been a nice welcoming celebration.  He didn’t give me a heads up, though, which did kinda suck (more for him — he got locked out!).

2.  No, Sub-Letter did not stink.  Probably had something to do with the Roommate just not being used to being back home and in his own bed (or the fact that he hadn’t washed his sheets since before his departure).

3.  Bathroom was cleaner than it was when Roommate left.  Steel wool + dirty tub that had been cleaned, but hadn’t had a good scrub down since before I moved in = “Oh, THAT’S the color it’s supposed to be!”  Also, hairy bathroom floor post-Europe = hairy bathroom floor pre-Europe (i.e. not my hair).  Haha, yeah, we’re a bit messy … but not THAT messy.

Anyways, I think Summer 2009 was a success.  I’m glad I got to travel a bit.  Glad that Roommate got a chance to do the same.  Glad to have met Sub-Letter (and that he’s now living in SF).  And now, I’m glad Roommate is back.

So here’s a quick recap of Summer 2009:

1.  Fraternity Conference in Chicago … hot / humid / fun / beer.

2.  Mini-golf … quite competitive.

3.  Grow-A-’Stache Fundraiser … success!

4.  4th of July BBQ in SF … beer.

5.  Sub-Letter … looking forward to more good times.

6.  Roommate … welcome back!

Here’s to a great 2009 – 2010!

Ideas are funny things.  They’re so common, so natural, so forgettable, that we often lose sight of just how large of an impact they can have.

I sometimes find myself thinking that I’ve just managed to come up with a great idea, be it a possible business venture, ingenious invention, or intriguing blog post — and 2 hours later, look back and wonder why I actually thought something like that would work.  The more time you have to critique and scrutinize an idea, the more likely you are to do so.  After hours of assessment, what once seemed like a good idea often becomes more of a joke.

This is a good thing.  This is also a bad thing.

Ideas NEED to be criticized — ideas live off of criticism and judgment.  This is true for ideas in science, philosophy, politics, sports … you name it.  There is no perfect idea.  The greatest ideas are those that can withstand these evaluations and still be convincing.  Sometimes ideas really are just bad ideas.  Even then — just because an idea doesn’t appear to survive this analysis and can’t be categorized as a “good idea” doesn’t mean that it can’t have an impact on someone’s life.

Yesterday, while driving home from work, I remembered an idea some friends and I had in high school.  I’ll call it Idea X.  Many people might think of Idea X as a silly thing, attributed to the naivete of adolescence.  Regardless, I found myself thinking that Idea X quite possibly was one of the most defining moments throughout my days in high school.

High school was a lot of things.  Friends.  Homework.  Late nights.  Projects.  IDP.  Crushes.  Grades.  Dances.  Experimentation.  The list goes on.

Idea X, however, is something that I always find interwoven with memories of high school.  Not only that, I find that Idea X is still active in my mind today, a constant reminder of just how powerful and effective ideas can become.  The other things were important, sure, but sometimes not as influential: I don’t talk to a lot of friends from high school anymore.  I’d probably have trouble with simple algebra.  I could care less about the grades I earned in high school, or the projects I worked on.  High school romance, in hindsight, makes me laugh at just how silly and trivial it really is.

But not Idea X.  It came about almost casually.  We went through with it.  And sure, maybe it didn’t leave too large of an impact on the world.  But quite frankly, it made a HUGE impact in mine.  I’m certain the people involved with Idea X don’t realize this.  Which is why, when driving home, it finally hit me.  We’ve all had ideas come and go.  We’ve all said things, heard things, seen things, without giving a damn.  But if Idea X could have impacted me as much as it did, when conventional wisdom would likely argue that it shouldn’t have, then how have the things I’ve done throughout my life made an impact on others?

Good ideas can lead to bad decisions.  Horrible ideas can catalyze innovation.  You never know how an idea will end up affecting someone.  Think about that.  Something you say casually to a friend and forget 20 minutes later could have consequences (positive or negative) that you never imagined.

So there will always be good ideas, and there will always be bad ideas.  But there will never be a useless idea.

Gym farts are the worst.

When I’m at the gym, there’s honestly nothing that pisses me off more than a silent sneaker wafting around, produced by some anonymous individual.  I mean, I know you’re straining and stressing when lifting weights, but it’s pretty damn easy to hold it in.

I went to the gym the other day and was laying out on an inclined bench doing some chest exercises.  There were a couple of other dudes around, minding their own business, too.  The fan was on.  Weights were clanking.  Things were fine.

Suddenly, some girl decides to grab a bench and place it about 2 feet behind my head.  “Whatever, she’s not in my way,” I thought, as she decided she would be doing some sit-ups.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, my nose was karate-chopped by the worst, foulest, gag-inducing, smelliest fart I’ve ever experienced.  If Hitler and Helen Thomas were to have a baby together, and that baby were to take a dump on your head, it probably wouldn’t even smell this bad.

My energy was literally drained.  The weights were impossible.  I looked around and saw all the other guys making “holy-shit-that-stinks” faces.  I think at one point, my heart could have quite possibly stopped (though, I can’t verify this, as this could have been a side effect of the Hitler-Thomas fart).

Now, this may not have been AS bad if the girl was at a reasonable distance from me.  Unfortunately, like I said, she was sitting about 2 feet from my head.  I’m almost positive that shit-particles found their way onto my face.  Unbelievable.  The icing on the cake?  This wretched anus of a woman was blushing like crazy, but that didn’t stop her from looking around and trying to draw everyone’s attention to her, just so she could also make the “holy-shit-that-stinks” face as if to say, “Oh, wow, do you all smell that?”

YES.  OF COURSE WE SMELL IT.  IT’S YOU.  YOUR ANUS.  WIND COMING FROM YOUR SPHINCTER.

Gym farts are the worst.

Life’s a cycle of repeated events, experienced through different means.

I’ve been on vacation.  But it’s time to slowly bring myself back to my reality.  It’s kinda interesting how I begin to miss the little things, especially when these “little things” are sometimes some of the “annoying” things I’d normally complain about:

Waking up early and experiencing MOST of the day, rather than just SOME of the day.

Morning coffee.

Driving.

Keeping busy.

Shooting e-mails.

When you’re in the midst of all these activities, they become the norm.  When something becomes the norm, it becomes monotonous.  When it becomes monotonous, it becomes annoying.  When it becomes annoying, you take a break.  And when you’re tired of the break, you start the cycle all over.

Maybe that’s why people make their new year’s resolutions: add something to the cycle, and it changes things up, refreshes our lifestyle and adds a new level to our world.  Maybe?

With that, here are some of the things I’d like to do in 2009:

1.  I have a gym membership — it’s time to use it.

2.  More athletic activities.  Start running again.  Start playing tennis again.  Football at the park.  Anyone interested?

3.  Get organized.

There are lots more things I want to do, but for now, I want to start off with these.  I figure once I make a habit of keeping these three in mind, I can move on to other goals.  One step at a time.

To anyone who reads this: good luck to you all in 2009!

I’m serious.  Saying Christmas is fine.  To hell with the PC police.

I consider myself a good friend.  If things are going well, I’ll be around to share the good times.  If things aren’t going so well, I’ll be around to share the bad times.

So it’s only right that I share what I like to call “The Five Stages of Being Wifed Up” with all my blog-reading friends (Kubler-Ross model, anyone?).

First off, what’s it mean to be wifed up?  Here’s a pretty good definition, credit to Urban Dictionary:

When a man is held down or in check by a female counterpart so as to not engage in social situations with other members of the general public.

In other words — whipped.

It’s a sad sight to behold when one of your friends can’t go out with you because of the ol’ ball and chain.  Everyone in a relationship (including yours truly) can be guilty of it sometimes.  But there are people who are guilty of it ALL THE TIME.

So as a reference, here they are, the Five Stages of Being Wifed Up:

1.  Denial

Examples:

“Pfff, I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m still out there hooking up with plenty of chicks.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’d never get wifed up.”

Yep — we’ve all seen the sad sight of a man denying that he’s wifed up.  Everyone else sees it, but they refuse.

2.  Anger

Examples:

“WTF?!  How the hell could this happen?!”
“All my friends are idiots!  They don’t know anything about women!”

Hey, sometimes your friend is wifing up with the right woman.  As guys, we love to poke fun at them, but in reality, there’s nothing wrong with it.  We just do it because, well, we’re guys, and it’s fun to see your friends get pissed off.  But inside, we think, “Hey, she’s alright!”

But this stage can also be pretty tough.  Sometimes, your friend is wifing up with the WRONG woman.  This is the stage when that wrong woman can use her evil powers (and yes, woman have evil powers) and turn this anger against the dude’s own friends, and convince him that they’re all the wrong people to be hanging out with.  I’ve seen it happen.  Friendships CAN end at the anger stage.

3.  Decision Time

Examples:

“God, please just throw another girl my way.  I need it.”
“I’ll do anything — I just don’t want her to think I’m REALLY serious about her!”

At this point, the guy is kinda realizing that, hey, maybe he IS getting wifed up.  He starts to wonder, “Is this really what I want?  I think she’s taking this more seriously than I am.  I’m not committed.  I need another girl.  Just one more.  Hell, I can GET another girl…right?  Do I even want another girl?  Maybe this girl is right for me.”

Many guys will stop seeing the girl at this point.  It’s decision time, and they realize that hey, maybe they’re not ready to get wifed up.  Other guys figure, ya know, I might as well, she’s pretty cool.  I’d consider this the stage where a relationship OFFICIALLY begins, i.e. boyfriend / girlfriend status, or OFFICIALLY ends.

4.  Boredom

Examples:

“Now I can’t do all the things I wanted to do.”
“Gosh, why bother even going out…I’m not going to have fun.”

I think this is the stage where the guy needs the most help from his friends.  He’s not exactly “bummed out,” but he just might not want to go out as much.  Things don’t seem as fun to him.  He feels like he can’t do anything unless his significant other is around.

Non-wifed up guys need to bring the wifed up guy back to life.

5.  Acceptance

Examples:

“Ya know, she’s a great girl.  And I can still have fun.”
“Yep, I’m wifed up.  And?”

Reaching the acceptance stage doesn’t mean that a relationship will survive forever.  What it DOES mean is that the guy does, in fact, want to be in the relationship.  And that’s a good start, I suppose.

So there you have it.  The Five Stages of Being Wifed Up.  I wonder if this applies to women, too.  Probably?