I Woke Up In A Car

Some people get up and run every morning, some people read their Bible, some people even go so far as to floss, but I think the best thing I could possibly do for my day would be to spend half an hour every morning just dancing around to Daft Punk's "Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger."

Queen of the Road

Gretchen is in the shop. My accident happened over three weeks ago, so it's about time. While the ol' ball and chain is getting a final once-over to determine if she's headed to the big junkyard in the sky, I'm driving what I like to call "The New Hotness." While it isn't much, and definitely not a car that I would consider masculine, it's about a flight* or two up from Gretchen. Right now I'm thinking of calling her Betsy, but maybe I should go for something a little more exotic.

She's a Saturn Vue, whatever the crap that is, and she's BRAND new. I'm talking plastic still on the floor mats, presets still set to deadair, only 15 miles on the odometer, the whole shebang. Plus, she's got XM radio and a CD player, which will be especially useful since I got a package from Mike and Maggie today containing a CD marked "Zach's Culture CD." I can only imagine that it's a copy of ABBA Gold.

After driving a busted-up Gretchen for several weeks, "The New hHtness" felt a little weird at first. Not only was I looking down at people at stop lights, but I had power windows, locks, and an XM radio (which will probably get its own post in the near future). I seriously felt like I had ditched my sandspeeder for an Imperial AT-AT Walker.

The biggest change, however, was actually being able to open up my driver's side door (which I haven't been able to do in a couple weeks). I left school midday to pick up the rental and as I pulled back into the parking lot I actually said out loud "well, now how in the hell do they expect me to climb over that console to get out." There was absolutely no thought in my mind that I could just open my door and exit the vehicle.

In other news I ate lunch with my 8th graders today. It seems strange, but our Executive Director asked us to try to eat with the students once a week. The soccer guys readily accepted me into their ranks and we spent most of the meal daring each other to eat some conncoction that one boy's mother had told him were "wasabi peas." That's right, you guessed it: dried peas covered in wasabi.

Also, I was informed by the lunch crowd that my facial hair was not in line with any known classification. They decided to call it the "mutton chop/soul patch killer combo," though I'm pretty sure it resembles neither.

Also, if you haven't already been over it, review my How George Lucas Stole Star Wars post and then check this: Brett Jordan's Blog


*Get it? A flight is like, a bunch of steps.

No Diggity

It's late. I've consumed my monthly recreation budget in beer during happy hour with the co-workers. At a coffee house downtown, open until 11pm, I fight the inner battle between listening to Ingrid Michaelson via Pandora and a local artist mutilating the song "Sundown" upstairs. Sipping apple juice ($1.89+my change as a tip) I try to finally unwind from my third week of being a middle school teacher.

Tearing Down The Walls

If I didn't love Abba, poetry, the Lilith Fair, and sucking at sports so much I'd probably be one of those people you see who are in the midst of a race crisis. Baggy pants, rap jargon, trucker cap cocked to the side, and either a left-and-back repetitive head twitch or the periodic urge to interject "know what I'm sayin'" and thumb my nose in daily conversation. Sadly, as demonstrated by my middle name and the fact that I'm blogging and drinking apple juice, I'm pathetically white. Do I envy the racially-gifted such as my former roommate Mr. Mikail Gonzales Hamilton? Yes.

While I admit that I have very little to offer, I would hope that if we ever get to the point where we're picking teams again, I'll get picked up by a race with a bit better sense of rhythm. And while we're talking about it, I have to admit that no song has ever made me forget my white-itude like Blackstreet's "No Diggity."

The heavy blues piano, the ever-flowing verse-alternating rap, the persistent chain gang "hum," and the gospel-worthy chorus make this one of my favorite songs of all time.

On a less racially awkward note my car is on its way to be repaired at last. After taking Gretchen, philogygenous little auto that she is, into the shop yesterday I found out that she may be totaled, which would make my day. I hate that car. If I could get a settlement which could pay off what I owe on her I would jump for joy.

Either way she goes in Monday and I get an insurance-provided rental car for a week. Good times.

Today's question: If you could choose one song to represent "Fall" what would it be? I'm trying to put together an ultimate mix, which will provide titles and themes for posts in the month of October. Let me know.

P.S. You can have my ghetto handshake and "brutha hug" when you pry it from my cold, clammy, white hands.

At least Kermit can identify with my skin color woes:

Take A Chance on Me

Friday night is date night, and if you're anything like me you spend it writing blog posts.

Unbelievable Dating Advice from the Unassuming Bachelor

-or-
I Spent All Night in a Ramen-Induced Coma and Slept Through Today's Movie Review

I've got a lot to say about things. Lots of things. Important things. But mostly I confine myself to a few platforms: the relative nutritional virtue of Wheat Thins, the impact of Science Fiction as a literary genre, and obscure cultural references in Barenaked Ladies songs.

What I don't know anything about thought is dating. In the divinely inspired works of the Old Testament book of Proverbs:

There are three things which are too wonderful for me,
Four which I do not understand:
The way of an eagle in the sky,
The way of a serpent on a rock,
The way of a ship in the middle of the sea,
And the way of a man with a maid.

- Proverbs 30:18-19

So, like most of the time, I'm going to be speaking to you about a subject on which I have no authority, and probably (statistically) the worst record of anyone I know (do the math). Without further ado three helpful tips on dating, the first installment of an ongoing series on the art of love.

Concepts to Know:

1. Net self-esteem differential.

The cruelest reality of the dating world is this: we all have our place. You have a certain range of eligible members of the opposite gender outside of which you will never successfully date. Now, contrary to popular belief this "target range" isn't determined by the amount of money you make, your social circle, how sweet of a car you drive, or even your looks. No, while all that stuff does matter, and it matters much more than most other factors, it doesn't actually determine your range.

The only thing that actually determines your range is the self-esteem of your target. Make sure you determine during the first hour of any first date a rough idea of what your date's self-esteem percentile score is.

While an individual's self-esteem typically is based on things like money, friends, possessions, and physical appearance, it isn't necessarily based entirely on these things. Sometimes a person comes along who didn't really grow into their teeth until like senior year of high school, so, despite the fact that this person is probably in the top 15% for looks and money, their self-esteem is stuck in the 45th percentile because of the nickname "molar monster". This person is prime real-estate.

Ultimately a really successful couple will have a max self esteem differential of 15%. These are the cases where one person actually has a reason to be down on themselves and the other just had an emotionally scarring experience which results in an 88th percentile person thinking that the 67th percentile person is doing them a favor.

Really, the only way to keep the magic alive is mutual self-doubt. As long as you both think you have to do everything you can to hold onto the other person, you'll do great.

2. Man-points.

Ever play Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog, Donkey Kong, or Coinworld? Well in these games your only real job is to get in, complete the level, and get out. Dates are kind of like these games. There are lava-pits to avoid, enemies who will compete for your princess, moving platforms, and clouds that disappear like 1/100th of a second after you land on them. While it seems like the best idea to just run, jump, and swing your way through the date there is actually an alternate goal worth pursuing.

In all of these games, including dating, there are tons of instances where you can go out of your way to collect bonus points. Usually in the form of coins or bananas, these don't actually win the game for you, but they sure do help. Getting these bonus points in the game of dating usually involves things like bringing an umbrella, cleaning that spot in your apartment that you're sure she won't see, not mentioning the names of any other girls or even actresses under the age of 40, hiding your Magic cards. Whatever.

See and seize these opportunities.

3. The Fluid Assumption. That sounds almost dirty and almost theological.

Stereotypes are stereotypes because they're true. No, not every girl wants you to open the door for her. There are some who will be offended when you do, but a much higher percentage (varying on your geographic location) will be offended if you don't. Know your crowd. Even if you're on a blind date you have at least a little bit of information. You know the girl that set you up has read Purpose Driven Life 10 times. This means you probably should open doors, pay for things, and look offended when people around you spit, swear, or wear t-shirts with the names of metal bands.

Never act like you don't know what you're doing just because you don't. Make up a general set of likes and dislikes that a date probably has before you even meet them, and then tweak it as you get more information. Your goal is to act decisively in the way that has the highest probability of working out in your favor.

But don't take my word for it.

Well, it's Saturday afternoon here and I've just gone grocery shopping. For my next trick I plan to make a Mexican concoction with the help a newly purchased crock pot. You'll see how that went tomorrow.

Your history lesson for today:

I Want to Break Free

Last night I had a dream that I was hanging out with Pope Benedict. We walked all the way from the new cathedral he had just built to my grandma's house. On the way he expelled a demon from a homeless person and turned a rotting trout into rice crispy treats when we were hungry. Not even kidding.

Don't Go Wasting Your Emotions

So, I was debating with myself on whether I should be blunt and just name this post "Mama Mia!" (it is a song after all) or if I should be a bit more subtle and make the song of the day "Closet" by Pete Yorn, but I decided on the middle road and gave it the title of a Queen song.

And, not that you'll listen to me, but this is another post where you should actually listen to the song of the day on the sidebar playlist.

I've decided I don't want to make it a movie review, but I do want to just come out (every pun intended) and say that I watched Mama Mia! the other night. Not only was it the best movie I've seen in a long time, but I actually might go out of my way to see it again, which is nearly unprecedented (the only movie I've seen in theaters more than once is Spiderman 2).

Mama Mia! Was weird for a number of reasons. First of all the movie (I know it was a Broadway musical first, but I haven't seen the musical so I won't mention it) was written around the soundtrack instead of the other way around. Secondly, I went in with very little information. I don't have a TV so I hadn't seen a preview of the movie, and so I only knew two facts going in: 1. On the movie poster is a girl in a wedding dress. 2. They are going to have to work about 15 ABBA songs into this movie.

So, I was surprised to find that not only was this movie not set in San Fransico or New York in the early 70's, but, for some inexplicable reason, they thought ABBA would be more appropriate to modern day Greece.

I won't give away any plot details, but I will tell you that since it's a musical there is very little plot, most of which is driven by the strangest conflict I'm ever seen in film: Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth competing over the same woman. Never since Bridget Jone's Diary (wow, I'm even making myself a little suspicious of my orientation) has Colin Firth really come up against a worthy opponent (I really don't know if I could do three posts in a row without alluding to Hugh Grant).

Really though, nothing about this movie would even be tolerable if you didn't like ABBA. And so, if I want to recommend it to people I have to begin by asking if they like ABBA, and if not I first have to talk them into listening to about 500 hours of disco.

On a manlier note: I put together a bookshelf last night. I'm pretty sure all my floors are crooked.

Also, in my never-ending quest to enrich everyone's life who reads this blog, I give you xkcd.com:


It's kind of what we're all waiting for: a person born in the 80's who grew up in the 90's writing jokes that are funniest to our generation. I'm excited for when these people kick out the baby boomers and finally take over T.V.

These comics come out 3 times a week on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which makes them about 3/7ths as cool as my blog, and since they're only spot-on about 70% of the time that puts them down to being about 9/25ths as cool as my blog. The other 30% of the time they are about complicated principles of physics, math, or Linux. But, check 'em out.

That was a little disjointed, but I'm fairly sleep-deprived.

Have a good one. Tomorrow is goal-day. Time to update everyone on how I did with my goals last week and share some new ones for the week to come.

P.S. And reminiscent of last week's post on Will Smith I've got a couple songs for you to compare. Try to decide if Reba McEntire subliminally ripped ABBA off (especially compare the note sequence of "Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to, Waterloo, finally facing my Waterloo," with "Little Rock, think I'm gonna have to slip you off, take a chance tonight and untie the knot, there's more to life than what I've got"). Either way trying to find stuff like this is like trying to decide if thigh-high, flame pattern-boots go with David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust collar: No one should really be doing it.

Everything You Know Is Wrong

UPDATE: Sorry dudes, I didn't change the code for the playlist earlier. It's fixed now.

Turns out if you like pop music, it's only because you like disco...

Debunk the Funk: A look at how Pop ripped off Disco and Will Smith ripped off everybody.

Madonna vs. Abba



Gym Class Heroes vs. Legitimate Success

Turns out that not only do they need the lead singer of Fall Out Boy to break the top 40, but these guys also have hijacked the hooks from some forgotten pop hits.





Will Smith vs. Everybody

If you take a close look, or just happen to listen to a lot of Soul Train, you soon find out that the beats of the artist formerly known as The Fresh Prince are neither fresh nor kingly...

See if you can identify which of these golden oldies were ripped off and turned into which of Will Smith's biggest radio hits.

To compare these videos with any of the Will Smith versions just use the playlist on the sidebar which has been switched up completely today just for this post.

Sister Sledge - "He's The Greatest Dancer"

If you guessed "Gettin' Jiggy Wit It" (how could you not?) you'd be right.

How about this one?
Patrice Rushen - "For-Me-Nots"

Yup, it's "Men in Black."

The Whispers - "The Beat Goes On"

That would be "Miami."

And finally...
Stevie Wonder - "I Wish"

At least he let Stevie Wonder in on the action and got to play the music he wrote and Will Smith sampled for the song "Wild, Wild West."

Of course we all know that "Just The Two Of Us" was a remake of a Grover Washington song and that "Will2k" was just Smith singing over "Rock the Casbah." But what you might not know is that he stole the lyrics to his eponymous tune too. Check it out.