Wednesday, September 01, 2004

...Goochin' On

I have never, except for maybe in high school, exaggerated the number of women I’ve had sex with. I just count things that are questionable to make the number higher (oral, times when I couldn’t “finish”)

I’ve come to grips with the fact the mere sight of me does not strike fear into the hearts of men

Like George Constanza, I would prefer that a woman think I’m good-looking but have a bad personality, rather than think I’m so-so looking but with a great personality

My theory on marriage: Regardless of whatever problems, disagreements and annoyances you may have with each other, if the sight of each other naked still gets you worked up, everything else will work itself out

I don’t think I have a substance abuse problem, but looking back at my life thus far, most of my fondest memories are of times when I was drunk, stoned or both

I tend not to worry about having more than others as much as I don’t like to think that others have more than me

Among the jobs I applied for as my college graduation grew near was as a WWF play-by-play announcer. I guess it goes without saying that I didn’t get the job. But someone from their HR department did call me. I think that was because I sent them a letter threatening to sue when I noticed they had hired a new announcer after writing me a form letter saying no openings were available

I enjoy watching other people’s relationships as an outside observer, mainly because during the course of any romantic relationship, people show some signs of insanity, and that’s always a little bit fun to watch.

I have an immense, probably irrational aversion to anything schmaltzy to the point I continually root against the Cubs or Red Sox because I know I would never be able to stand the gooey sentimentalities that would be spewed forth if either team were ever to win the World Series. I guess I don't like a good underdog story.

I have a lot of good college stories from my fraternity days, but I don’t like to tell them as much as I used to now that I’ve hit 30, because it feels kind of Al Bundyish (repeating the same stories of your glorious youth over and over and over)

It’s hard to not feel some regret at having stayed faithful during relationships that ultimately didn’t work out.

Maybe you don’t notice it so much from my blog, but in real life I have a lot of weird little personality quirks that I hope my son doesn’t pick up. My wife must wish for this too as she keeps telling me not to act weird around him.

If I had to do it all over again, I would have worked harder at baseball. I could never catch a fly ball, and once we moved to fast pitch from T-ball I had a hard time judging balls and strikes, but I was a fucking awesome pitcher if I do say so myself. No one in my Little League could figure out how to hit off a leftie like me. I think the life of a Major League pitcher would have suited me just fine.

I like Metallica to the degree I own a few of their CD’s and have seen them in concert a number of times, but I don’t admit this to many people because I don’t want to be confused with one of those weirdos whose obsessive fandom is at the point they read Metallica’s lyrics as their own personal philosophy.

People who claim it is a double standard that men who sleep around a lot are called “studs” while women who do so are called “sluts” are full of shit and they know it. Unless you’re Brad Pitt, getting laid takes some work if you’re a guy. If you’re a woman, provided you’re under 200 pounds and remember to brush your teeth, you can pretty much get it whenever you want it. Is it so strange to be more impressed by someone who can kill a bear with a pocketknife than with someone who (to overuse an already overused cliché) shoots fish in a barrel?

I don’t claim to be any sort of expert on things romantic, but I’m pretty sure that any relationship that can be described as, “I know he/she has a wife/girlfriend/husband/boyfriend, but he/she doesn’t understand him/her like I do” isn’t ever going to lead to anything that you look back at fondly years later.

Ever though I was raised in a relatively religious Jewish household and although I will always consider myself Jewish, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that one of the nice things about being married to a non-Jew is that I get to actually participate in the Christmas season instead of feeling like an outsider for all of December.

My first job out of college was as a customer service rep for an audio-visual products company. It sucked in the sense that I went from 4 years earning my degree in English Literature to processing orders for transparency film (the stuff you put on overhead projectors). I comforted myself with the idea that I would write a book based on my experience that would be a take off of “1984”. The end of the book would have the main character genuinely excited and happy about earning an extra $.50 for each additional box of transparency film he could sell. That was an actual incentive program in my department. And the $.50 was split among the whole department, you didn’t get to keep it all to yourself. And I do mean $.50, not $50.

I’ve never told anyone about my blog, not because I’m super secretive or anything, but because I’m conducting an experiment to see how quickly it will take members of my family and my friends to discover it. So far, only my wife has found it and I think that was probably just because I forgot to clear out the cache on our home computer.
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