Sunday, September 14, 2008

#75: Stop Talking Like My Roommate (part II)

I left you all last time with a goal for me to stop talking like my roommate. His constant idiosyncrasies, gestures, and phrases that make a three year old sound like Thomas Edison or even Albert Einstein had taken a toll on me. It was time for me to see the light and venture away from words that had become so commonplace such as "ballin," "bo," and "beatin it." Let me tell you that it's been a long, hard road to recovery. I won't say that trying not to speak like a seven year old has been paved with gold and smelled like roses, but it hasn't been that bad. Talking like a real, normal human being hasn't really helped me get ladies in the sack (like I said it would, stupid me) or anything awesome like that, but I'd like to think that I'm working on it right now. It will happen in due time I guess. Since I've made this proclamation about two weeks ago, I'd like to think that I've been pretty good. Or so I think. There are times where I do have random urges to say these words, but for the most part I've been under control.

With that being said, I have hit some bumps on the road. There have been at least two instances that constantly occur where I struggle to abstain from speaking like Kyle. One happens when I'm watching football with my friends and the other happens when I get drunk. Granted, I do revert back to "Suck it" or some derogatory phrase like that whenever I want to make fun of someone but "suck it" is a phrase that someone truly deserves when they earn it. Anyway, whenever I'm watching football with my friends (Kyle included), we tend to sound like a bunch of retarded cavemen whenever any significant event such as a touchdown, fumble, or interception occurs. I can't help it to be honest. When 10 other guys are saying "ballin'," then you're more inclined to say it, regardless of any premontions that you have against it. Since football season has started, the past two Sundays have been filled with Kyle's words. It's almost as if he's putting words in mouth, but sadly that's not the case. My fantasy team has been pretty nasty, only helping my case to achieve item #33: Win a Fantasy Football Championship on my 99things list. So in the case of football, I think that it's definitely worth it, so long as I continue my winning ways. Here's to hoping.

The other time in which I use my roommate's sayings uncontrollably is when I'm drunk. I can't really help it when I'm under the influence. It's just like second nature to me in this case. Case in point, this past Friday. I went over to a friend's house to participate in a Tour de Franzia, which everyone should participate in at some point during their adult lives. Anyway, prior to arriving at my friend's house, my use of Kyleisms had been very limted at best. I had a busy week and there was really no time to dumb myself down and talk like a child. However, that quickly changed. I arrived late and completely missed the entire tour, thanks to my friends' inability to be patient for a few extra minutes. So with missing the event, my friends were already trashed and I needed to catch up. And that's what I did, as I caught up to my friends, downing cup after cup of Franzia in an effort to get trashed. As soon as the sweet taste of that fucking cheap wine hit my lips, all my preconcieved efforts to refrain from saying Kyle's words went right out the window. From the bits and pieces I remember of that night, probably every third word I said was either a "bo," or "ballin." That tells you how much I was able to charm others of the opposite sex, when I'm stumbling around with a cup of cheap wine in my hand, sounding like a bumbling fool. I guess I deserved what was coming for me, as I managed to paint the town with my vomit, literally. Suck it, me, as my favorite bo (Kyle) would say.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

#75: Stop Talking Like My Roommate

This goal is a new one that I've created. It's not for the sake of doing something on my list, it's more of trying to rid myself of a horrible habit. You see, I have a roommate whose expressions, phrases, and general incompetence has become contagious. His name is Kyle. And yes, he is fucking annoying. Don't get me wrong, he's a great friend and roommate, but this needs to stop. But in the three years that I've known him, I've been able to dumb myself down and act like him. It's something very hard, but yet I have done the impossible. His idiosyncrasies and sayings have become second nature to me. Whenever I try to make fun of or mock someone, it's Kyle's phrases that I turn to as my bread and butter. He has some great expressions that are perfect for some situations, but they're all fucking stupid. A five year old could come up with some these. So I'm breaking the habit and stopping this retarded cycle now.

The whole goal in this is simple. I want to sound smarter when I'm around others. Now that Kyle lives with me, I find myself going to the well of saying that Kyle would use too many times. Trust me, the ladies do not like it when I shake my head like a spaz or even sound like a whiny bitch. As I'm preparing to transition from college to the real world, I have to realize that not everyone thinks that Kyle's jokes are funny and perhaps there is another way to sound funny, although it might be hard to fathom.

Granted, I know that this is hard, I mean impossible, to complete. Not with saying that Kyle's vernacular or "Kyleisms" as I like to call them have corrupted my humor and sometimes make me look like a six year old. But rather the fact that Kyle is my roommate and he lives next door to me. By following through on this goal, I can no longer act like him when he tries to hit on me like a faggot (no homo), when I come into my room and find Kyle in my bed, or even anytime he does something stupid. I was able to do this before in the summer, because my parents thought I was fucking retarded whenever I said something that Kyle would say, and would refuse to acknowledge me until I sounded like a normal human being.

So for the rest of the semester, I am not allowed to say the following words/phrases:

- Bo.
- I bet.
- Suck it.
- Really?
- Seriously?
- S My D.
- Meh.
- any form of "beat it."
- shaking my head like a spaz

And the list goes on. I'm short on the all of the words he says, but I'll add them as they come to mind. This is entirely possible, but hard to do. However, it can be done and I'm confident that I'll succeed. I might slip up and there might be setbacks, but I'm comitted to the effort. We'll see what happens.

Once You Go Black, You Never Go Back, Right?

So one of the many highlights of my summer was my 21st birthday. As an only child that was constantly suppressed by my parents, my 21st birthday was going to be something amazing. Incredible would be another way to describe as it would be filled with drinking, more drinking, and hopefully scoring with a random chick. At least that's what I hoped. It never works out that way.

After spending my actual 21st birthday doing nothing but work and volleyball, I had to wait until the end of my swim season to finally celebrate. I went big with the 21st birthday. I set up an event on Facebook, invited everyone I thought would come, and hoped for the best. However, much to my dismay, many of the people that accepted were under 21. The point of inviting them was a joke, but apparently they didn't get that. Regardless of who showed up and who didn't, the 21st birthday party was still off the chain.

I first went with a few of my friends out to a driving range, drinking some brews and hitting some golf balls. I know I sound like a faggot when I wrote that, but its the truth. It felt really empowering to order beers. Especially when I was asked to display my ID. That feeling that I had every time I cracked open my wallet and flashed it was incredible. Anyway, back to the story. I spent a good amount of money at the driving range, picking up the tab as we heading into downtown DC for the rest of the night.

My friends and I went to Rhino Bar in Georgetown and details after that were very sketchy. Drinks by the handful were getting bought for me and of course, I was pounding them down. But the one thing that I do remember is an amazing story. I was on the bottom floor of the two-story bar with my friend from school, buying drinks for some friends. Suddenly, a nice-looking, sophisticated girl was looking my way and began to talk to me. For it being my first time out in Georgetown, I was quite impressed with myself that a lady began to talk to me. My friend and I began to talk to her and her friend, hoping for the best. When it seemed that her friend wasn't interested, I shifted my attention to the one who was giving me the time of day, not to mention the one with the bigger breasts.

I kept talking to this girl and eventually drank the drinks that I ordered for my friends. Being the stubborn person that I am, my goal that night was to try and get with this girl. Granted I do think with my crotch more than my brain when I'm intoxicated, but damnit I was trying. Some of the pickup lines I was using were like this:

"I may be 21 but I'm all man, baby."

"It's ok if you take advantage of me, I won't mind."

"What happened to your chopsticks?" (Not really.)

I was thinking that I was getting somewhere with these lines when she took me out on the dancefloor. I was feeling pretty good when I was dancing with this fine-ass chick, with boobs that were so big that she had to stop dancing every five minutes to adjust herself. I was freaking it with her since I was hammered, throwing my cautions to the wind. I didn't really care at that point if my friends were looking at me, I was trying hard to get what I wanted. However, shaking my ass like I've got junk in my trunk got nowhere. The next thing I know, some black guy comes in a steals my woman from here and promptly grinds his crotch and gyrates against her ass. It looked a lot like the picture below:

It was all of a sudden. In a moment's time, I went from "Big Pimpin" to "Sleeping Alone Tonight." Damnit, I was so mad. I had convinced my drunken self that she may have been with a black dude before, prompting me to text my friends the question "Is it true that once you go black, you never go back?" I don't know the answers I got back or even what compelled me to do such a thing. My memories of the night are fuzzy at this point, with exception of puking all over my DD's car. I clearly remember upchucking on 395 on the way home.

So here's the thing about the whole post. I know it was a long and boring story, and you probably didn't enjoy it. Is this myth true? I don't hate the guy, he had the same goal in mind that I had. But just the way he came in and seemingly swooped the girl away from me made me realize that maybe my moves aren't hip enough or even my neophytic ways in urban nightlife caught up with me. So readers, answer this? Is it true that once you go black, you never go back, right?