1. Seriously, last night Nicole and I were at Estelle's, and like, right after I told her the story about the cabbie, "Lovely Day" came on. Again. Spooky.
2. I learned, recently, that "Nucular" has been added to the dictionaries (including my beloved OED) as an alternative pronunciation of nuclear. I assure you, it is not. You can't just go about changing the correct pronunciation of things to make stupid people feel better about themselves. This is what's wrong with the world. Entirely. People want us to change science because it doesn't correlate with their idiotic, delusional religious beliefs. People want to use the term "begging the question" to mean "raising the question"- WHICH IT DOES NOT. I am wrong about things sometimes, as most people are. I'm ok with that. I don't expect the rules to change simply so that I personally don't feel stupid. People have to get used to being wrong about things. If I give you the incorrect directions to a place in Chicago, and you end up in Missouri, I do not get to say "Well, that's what I feel the directions are, and because I say it it must be true." Soon, we will have no spelling bee champions and the world will erupt into outright chaos. This, I feel, is a natural consequence of the "everyone is special and a winner" aesthetic. There ought to be no "If you do something wrong enough times it can be right" rule in grammar, pronunciation, or spelling. What's next? Changing the spelling of "realtor" to "realetor?" Are we supposed to accept that it is possible for the world to be flat just because some people happen to believe it? Everything cannot be simultaneously true- 2 + 2= 4, and god damn it, nuclear is pronounced new-klee-urr.
3. Some guy I did not know sent me a shot at the bar last night- from another table, which was delightfully old fashioned/ more like something that happens on 70's TV shows than in real life. I said thank you, but did not actually go and talk to him as he was not so much my type- but still- kinda neat.
4. But really, if he really wanted to impress me, he would have sent me the amazing hologram "Footprints in the Sand" framed picture that I saw at the LaSalle Blue Line today. I'm totally serious. It would be the second best present ever. The best present ever being the one my friend Luke got me for my 19th birthday, which consisted of a tape of Harold and Maude, a copy of "Fleur de Mal," fancy chopsticks and strawberry bubble tape- which, at the time, was something I was especially enamoured by. Yay.
Showing posts with label Bill Withers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bill Withers. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The whimsical story of the cabbie who was wrong about everything in life.
It's been an interesting couple of days. For one, on Friday, I was late to work and took a cab. I get in the cab and the dude is all "I can't talk for a second, I gotta figure out what the title of this song is so I can play it when I DJ tonight." The song, by the way, was "Lovely Day" by Bill Withers, and the only words in the chorus are "Lovely Day" so I'm not sure why that was so hard to figure out. So, anyway, dude then tells me that he owns the cab company and just drives them for fun, because "No woman wants a man with no money. You know what I'm saying?"
"Sure" I say, even though I do not agree in any fashion. I have my own damned money, and very, very little interest in discussing the subject ever.
"I don't like to wake up in the morning unless I got a thousand dollars on my dresser" he says.
I couldn't resist... "So, what, are you like, a hooker?"
He then proceeds to inform me that while he was not in fact a hooker, he could be, because he's got "the good dick," and that if that were the case, he would do me for free. Because I am "sexy as hell." Which was not true at all at that point in the morning, mind you.
So then he asks me about my man at home, which I don't have (in case you didn't know), and I say he is super. It doesn't mean much, though, he says, unless he's got the good dick.
I say nothing. He then takes this opportunity to tell me about how much money he makes djing places like, um, Indiana and Miami. And how he knows The Beastie Boys and djed for Naz.
"Neat" I say. He continues the bragging until I get out of the cab. He offers his phone number and I do not take it.
I just... I don't know, I find it interesting how totally, totally wrong this dude was about everything a lady like myself might want in a fella. Or, I mean... any woman, really. I've never heard any chick I know say anything like "Yeah, he was totally dreamy. I mean, all that bragging and ostentacious name dropping and casually mentioning how much money he made and how totally important he was, was like, so hot. Who doesn't love that? Worlds of sexiness I tell you!"
To that, my friend, I say this:
But, for real, I felt kind of insulted. Like as far as this guy was concerned, women care about the following things:
1. How much money you make (I don't care because I have my own)
2. How totally important you are and how many famous people you have casually met (I don't care, because, really, that has no effect on whether or not you are a jerk. They could also be jerks for all I know, or have nothing interesting to say. How does that help me?)
3. The good dick. (You can get that shit at the porn store)
Which makes us seem pretty shallow. If he had instead focused on the following list:
1. Not being a jerk/having good manners
2. Being funny
3. Being well groomed
I bet you things would work out better for him. As of now, he's just really, really insulting.
"Sure" I say, even though I do not agree in any fashion. I have my own damned money, and very, very little interest in discussing the subject ever.
"I don't like to wake up in the morning unless I got a thousand dollars on my dresser" he says.
I couldn't resist... "So, what, are you like, a hooker?"
He then proceeds to inform me that while he was not in fact a hooker, he could be, because he's got "the good dick," and that if that were the case, he would do me for free. Because I am "sexy as hell." Which was not true at all at that point in the morning, mind you.
So then he asks me about my man at home, which I don't have (in case you didn't know), and I say he is super. It doesn't mean much, though, he says, unless he's got the good dick.
I say nothing. He then takes this opportunity to tell me about how much money he makes djing places like, um, Indiana and Miami. And how he knows The Beastie Boys and djed for Naz.
"Neat" I say. He continues the bragging until I get out of the cab. He offers his phone number and I do not take it.
I just... I don't know, I find it interesting how totally, totally wrong this dude was about everything a lady like myself might want in a fella. Or, I mean... any woman, really. I've never heard any chick I know say anything like "Yeah, he was totally dreamy. I mean, all that bragging and ostentacious name dropping and casually mentioning how much money he made and how totally important he was, was like, so hot. Who doesn't love that? Worlds of sexiness I tell you!"
To that, my friend, I say this:
But, for real, I felt kind of insulted. Like as far as this guy was concerned, women care about the following things:
1. How much money you make (I don't care because I have my own)
2. How totally important you are and how many famous people you have casually met (I don't care, because, really, that has no effect on whether or not you are a jerk. They could also be jerks for all I know, or have nothing interesting to say. How does that help me?)
3. The good dick. (You can get that shit at the porn store)
Which makes us seem pretty shallow. If he had instead focused on the following list:
1. Not being a jerk/having good manners
2. Being funny
3. Being well groomed
I bet you things would work out better for him. As of now, he's just really, really insulting.
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