The American Plan…

I’ve been focusing on some minutia in my last few posts and realized it was probably time for a new rant. Not an epic rant this time, but still, it’s a start.

I started taking my first grad class yesterday. I’m working on an MBA through U. of Phoenix. I’m pretty much up to speed with the internet and working “virtually,” so I figured it couldn’t be all that hard to take classes online too. I may have made a slight tactical misunderestimation of the level of work that was going to be involved. I was expecting a cakewalk… a wham, bam, thank you ma’am, here’s your degree kind of experience. I’ve spent the better part of the last two nights reading my online “book” and responding to a stack of discussion questions, posting my biography, and saying “hello” to my new classmates. I didn’t sign up for this to be hard. I wanted something for nothing. I wanted the American Plan, goddamnit.

Oh well, what the fuck is one more thing to do every day. Bloody hell.

Contemplating a change…

So, for the last few weeks, I’ve contemplated moving the blog to a host that offers a few more utilities and options for posting my semi-regularly scheduled missives. To be frank, the only reason I keep the MySpace page updated these days is because of the blog. A dedicated blogging platform just seems easier to manage on a day-to-day basis than keeping a dying website around to just support a blog… Why not cut out the middle-man and focus on what I really enjoy doing… ranting about all that is stupid in the world. I wouldn’t be leaving MySpace, of course, but rather putting the page into kind of a suspended animation mode so I have a presence here, but not something that needs regular care and feeding. Hopefully I’ll make a final decision after I’ve had a chance to play around with some of the hosting sites and see if they’ll fill the bill. As always, your thoughts are welcome.

Smell…

I’ve hear it said that there’s nothing as powerful as the sense of smell to carry us back to a moment or a place we haven’t thought about in years. I had one of those moments a few minutes ago. In smelling the combination of fresh-cut grass and the exhaust of a not-quite tuned gas engine, I was hit with an overwhelming recollection of my grandfather and his Allis Chalmers B-10 lawn tractor. I don’t think my grandfather was ever happier then when he was tooling around the yard on that mid-60s vintage machine. With that smell hanging in the air, for just a second, I was a kid again and could see people and places I haven’t set eyes on in twenty years. It was really quite remarkable and, I’m not too proud to say, it choked me up there for a minute. Memory is a funny thing like that.

Used Car Salesman…

No, I’m not changing careers, but having the ability to talk like a used car salesman has a plethora of important uses. Among the most important of them was trolling for freshman as a junior on the 5th floor of mighty Cambridge Hall. Now you all know that I’ve never really had any game to speak of, choosing instead to rely on sheer force of will and infinite patience in pursuit of the fairer sex. Theoretically, Cambridge was reserved for upperclassmen, but the 5th and 6th floors were assigned to the Honors Program, which guaranteed an influx of freshmen every semester… We’d later learn to call this a target-rich environment.

I suppose it would have been October of 1998 and I was targeting a particular freshman with lots of attention, long talks on the back patio, romantic,lingering dinners in the dining hall, and of course, booze. After an extensive “softening up” period, I decided that a frontal assault was in order, saying simply, “I’m gonna sell this like a used car… What do I need to do to make this deal?” Well, in making a long story short, for some totally unknown reason, it worked and began a whirlwind romance that would practically end with a war between the north side of the floor and the south… That’s right, our own little version of the Civil War. Come to think of it, that was also the night I learned that no matter what you are doing, having two people in a single bed is just damned uncomfortable. So, yeah, that’s the story of How “like a used car salesman” came to be a phrase in regular use. I don’t get to use the phrase often these days, but it still crops up from time to time.

Gonnaherpasyphilaids…

Gonnaherpasyphilaids is actually one of my personal favorites. I find it to be an excellent all-purpose word basically meaning that the individual in question has a high likelihood of carrying one or more diseases of the naughty regions that are non-responsive to penicillin. This word came into usage during my sophomore year as a response to the choruses of “I’d do her” that accompanied almost any chick of even modestly attractive features. That is to say, “Yeah, you’d do her, but you’d probably end up with gonnaherpasyphilaids.” This term is still regularly in use.

Taking requests…

At the request of a dear friend, I have undertaken a small project to catalog many of the “Tharpisms” that have evolved over the years. Many of them have their origins high atop Cambridge Hall in the land of single rooms and honors students. Others are more recent additions to my personal lexicon, but nevertheless, they will be familiar to anyone who has spent any amount of time anywhere near me in the last 10 years… If there are any particular favorites, feel free to make a request. I’ll start you off with two that top my list in the coming posts.

Pee…

A full day at work and there was no pee on the floor when I got home this afternoon. I know it’s impossible to identify a trend with only one data point, but God, I hope this is the beginning of one. It’s amazing the things you get excited about when you’ve got a puppy in the house. The small victories feel like major milestones.

Recalling the satellites…

In the 1850’s people crossed the country in covered wagons. They died of dysentery and cholera. The trip took half a year and if they didn’t make it before winter, they could get stuck in the mountains and have to eat their friends and family just to try making it through to spring. I’ve always been amazed at people’s capacity to make this trip, but recently another thought occurred to me… How the hell did they manage to tolerate the trip without satellite radio or an integrated GPS? I can’t get halfway across town without either one of them.