The Internet is Making Us Fat and Lazy

The more I look around, the more I realize that the contributions of our generations involve the meta frames of culture. We refine pre-existing structures. We seek to improve the smaller, finer details of daily interaction through self improvement and seminars, we try to make the world a more beautiful place through graphic/interior/visual design.

The things we DO create are entirely virtual: Youtube, blogging, iPhone applications. While this is well and good, it almost feels like we've lost our way. In discovering that we can make our own virtual realms with ease, fixing the physical world has fallen to the backburner. It's simply less efficient that "solving" that problem virtually.

The Internet makes it possible to dive into a multitude of international experiences that we would otherwise be unable to achieve---such that it has become our playground. The problem is that its rapidly becoming our ONLY playground. People live and DIE playing WoW, marriages get broken apart by Second Life, some dude just married his DS.



But what about reality. What ever happened to the physical world. I just finished watching this
and the entire time, all I could think of was....why haven't we implemented any of these yet?

The internet is partly to blame. Because we're constantly plugged into a constant source of amusement and emotional stimuli, we no longer NEED physical experiences to keep our neverending drive for novelty quelled.

This isn't what I have a problem with, per se. I will be the first to admit I have a minor YouTube addiction. The problem comes when this behavior starts limiting our beliefs--when all of a sudden doing good in the real world becomes so much of a burden compared to the effortless virtual creation we're so used to, that we no longer even bother with it.

Stay informed. Stay plugged. But don't ever let the allure of being a floating conciousness on the collective ether of the net, stop you from participating as a human being.

AOL rises from the grave to deliver this very important message

AOL has a new logo/brand ID.

It makes no sense...mainly because it accomplishes nothing.

In fact the viewing process is so poorly done that it can only be compared to watching a slideshow made by people who just recently discovered google image search.

Jump the link for the video release in all its unholy glory.

http://www.logodesignlove.com/aol-logo

...and vampires.

Somehow slipped my mind.
But one quick StumbleUpon later, now I have this.
A nekkid vampire/Ryan-Reynolds-with-a-5-o'clock-and-bird-dookie-in-his-hair themed menstrual pad for chunky days.


Seriously ladies. WHAT THE F.

p.s. I know some of you are going to try and buy this, but evidently there were enough die-hard Twilight fans out there that they've since sold out.

ugh, I feel like I've opened the Pandora's Box of disgusting fantasies.

The Internet <3s

1) Lists. Apparently this is all our poor, underused attention spans are capable of handling now.
2) Pictures of you cat with obligatory poorly worded caption "from the cat's point of view" - for when you run out of lists
3) Kanye West
4) Pirates, Ninjas, and Zombies.
5) "Leaked" Celebrity Sex Tapes....yeah, that's totally not getting a link

If you can go a single day without stumbling across one of these items, you're to be commended. Looks like today isn't going to be your day though, haha.

A.D.D?

Maybe it's the fact that thing's have been hectic lately--especially after moving back to San Diego. I'd imagine it has something to do with my personal love affair with my short attention span. But for whatever reason, I cannot stand to sit around the house for longer than a few hours at a time. I need to constantly be in motion, and when my momentum finally runs out, it feels weird.

I guess I can always take solace in the fact that I'm living up to my user name.

The Boob Trap

Women like being checked out. By men, by other women, it doesn't matter. By paying attention to her, people pay tribute to their figure, form, or sense of fashion. People dress up so they can get noticed.

Now some people will argue against this and claim that they dress up for themselves--so they feel pretty. To which I reply: how do you know when you look good? By referencing other fashionable people, by the looks you get from other people, by reading fashion magazines written & published by people. Your life is determined by the arbitrary measuring stick of society. You dress to match society's definition of beauty. SUCK IT.

The problem arises when guys get caught and I have seen dudes get reamed for this. This only happens when the girl sees the guy as lower value and all of a sudden, this poor guy is at fault for having the AUDACITY to look. Women, check out dudes all the time---its just harder to tell as they have a larger scope of peripheral vision.

Why is it suddenly a problem when a guy returns the favor. Got a problem with people checking out your cleavage? Then stop wearing that V neck.

The 90s

I MISS:
Choose your own adventure books
Berry Berry Kix
Super Nintendo

I DON'T MISS:
Bowl cuts
Short shorts for men
Wearing a Tennis Visor backwards and thinking it was cool

SHOULD HAVE BEEN NIPPED IN THE BUD:
Sarah Palin
Possibly short shorts in general. Seriously, how the hell do you girls run in those things?

Flow of conciousness

If this were Facebook, my status would be something along the lines of "is glad he's finally got hair again." However, since I recently made fun of a friend for being addicted to said book o' faces, I feel obligated to tone down my presence there lest I fall into ye old pit trap of hypocrisy. So instead we go to the older, more narcissistic medium of talking at great length about our thoughts and publishing them for future generations to ignore with marked disinterest while they blog their thoughts into the collective void.

Least I have chicken. Mmmmm SweetFire Chickennnnn.

Ongka's Big Moka

After having celebrated my Mom's birthday the previous weekend, I came to realize a couple of things about the yearly celebration of your unexpectedly continued existence:

1) It is the unwritten rule of birthday tradition that no one is allowed to sing the Happy Birthday Song well. If you are going to sing, you will do so BADLY and with minimal begrudging enthusiasm.

2) Once you get some disposable income it becomes impossible purchase a meaningful gift for you. If you wanted something a month ago, you probably already have it unless you've got willpower and lifestyle of an ascetic monk.

3) Your birthday is a chance for you to hang out with friends and enjoy your small heap of presents...up until the time you turn 18. At which point it immediately becomes an excuse for your friends compete to see who can give you alcohol poisoning first.

Thank god for Pepcid AC.

New format

Haha clearly I've been doing a bad job of keeping this thing updated. It's been a few months and not a peep. Fear not. Gonna post a little blurb every Mon, Wed, and Friday. Possibly more if you're good. Kiss those monolithic ramblings from yesteryear goodbye, though.

SO I've started listening to hypnosis tapes before going to bed. They claim to be able to do fun things like improve my memory (which I need) or make me quit smoking (which I don't need). Strangely enough, the overwhelming thought here isn't whether or not its working....its whether I'm actually being hypnotized.

About half the time I just knock out coz its so boring and wake up in time to catch the outro. The other half of the time I spend wondering why I'm listening to an audio file on smoking cessation. I guess someday I'll have a coherent reason, but tonight, the "hypnosis" continues.

Krazy Kats of Kathmandu

So recently my friend and I signed up to be extras in a movie.

This proved to be a mistake.
Warning sign #1 arrived when I learned we were going to rehearsing every week in Palm Springs.
Warning sign #2 was when I figured out that the casting call we responded to was asking for "Orientals"
Warning sign #3 reared its ugly head in the form of the subject matter of the play. The title was "Shakespeare's Cat". Not so bad. Until you dig a little deeper and learn that the movie is live action, doesn't actually involve real cats...just people dressed as cats, dancing to campy music sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary rejects. Did I mention that we got cast as part of a 5 ManCat gang that conveniently abbreviates into KKK?

So we arrive at the venue, learn our dance moves from our nipple pierced choreographer (I thought she was just reallly cold until Howard points out that one of them is ring shaped) and call it a day. Things start looking up.

Once rehearsal ends we hit a local bar called the "Fire House"-- walls are made of old brick, the bar is lined with the patterned steel you usually find adorning fire trucks, and there is a bright red functional fan larger than my actual room ventilating the place. We arrive right as happy hour hits, order some hot wings, nachos, cheese bread, and beer. Everything is gravy.

God bless the alcohol.

I'm not sure how this came to be...

But my guess would be that Vodka played a key role. I can just see a table of dudes, drunkenly arguing about what the ultimate man snack would consist of. Solution? Kill the Red Bull cow and turn it into dried meat. Caffienated, seasoned meat.

And lo and behold...Perky Jerky was born.

Damn you, Red Bull

As I sit here, unable to sleep, a scant 6 hours away from the start of my first day on my job, I can't help but think that the Red Bull I had with dinner today is working. Maybe a little too well. Yesterday I went to bed at 5 in the morning. Today is looking to be a repeat performance. The gods of chronic sleep deprivation will be pleased.

Sometimes I wonder if that's the way its going to be a few years from now. If we'll spend the rest of our lives, dosing ourselves with drugs and performance enhancers to keep up with the frenetically accelerating pace of society. I mean, take caffeine for instance. Use is so widespread that it's actually become something of sub-culture where people brag to each other about how much they've taken in one sitting. People dose themselves with caffeine every morning, just to avoid dramatically punching the nearest co-worker in the face for existing just a little too loudly.

It's strange thinking that our culture, something that WE as a collective whole of PEOPLE consciously developed and adopted, demands performance outside of the bounds of comfortable natural function. Was it our fault? Was it the large, amorphous blog of capitalism at work? Is it really even a bad thing? I guess I won't know till tomorrow morning...when the cycle repeats :)

I'm out.
-R

It's been awhile

Haven't had a lot of time to post recently. A lot has been going on over the last few months. I developed a strong internet addiction, joined a ninjutsu class, and can now kill people remotely with the power of my sleep restricted mind. Yeah. It's pretty sweet.

I'm going to make an active attempt to try and update this page more regularly. Expect a few more posts on game, pretentious social commentary, and the occasional unadulterated incomprehensible-jargon-laden rant.

Now here's a link to a Wiki on a tiny man who's accomplished more in life than you have...without HANDS, FEET, or THIGHS. WTF.

Game: The Sequel

Annoying misconceptions II:
more quotes that deserve to be taken out back and ended

no. 2 "Iono what to do! That girl is so hot! I'm gonna go buy her a drink!"
no. 3 "Real players don't buy girls drinks!"

You might be thinking to yourself. "Dude...those quotes are like..........opposites....or something?
So one of them should be right....right?" WRONG. It all boils down to a question of application, and a good chunk of guys don't know when or how to buy a girl a drink.

During the timeline of any successful attraction, its a pretty good idea to start off by not broadcasting any kind of sycophantic attention or bending over backwards to meet her wants. That means not trying to buy a girl's attention or time. If you just met a girl, don't hold her purse. Don't buy her a drink. She isn't your friend and she isn't going to start liking you just coz you've demonstrated your ability to purchase beverages or serve as a coat rack. If she wants that kind of treatment she must earn it. Don't be a tool and demand a kiss or a date in exchange if you just met. Make it something fun and unusual. Any sort of game or qualifier will work well here.

So what's wrong with buying a girl a drink? So what if she didn't earn it? BECAUSE, if the girl is really attractive enough to be worth your time, she gets approached continuously. She gets drinks for free every night off chumps who have nothing else to offer. Not only will she assume that you're just as much of a loser as those other guys, she will probably just take your drink and then ignore you. In the end, you're really just digging your own grave.

Well, I take that back. This approach will work if:
a) she's there to get laid (rare)
b) she's drunk off her ass AND alone (more rare)
c) she's actually a he. From Thailand. (its already happened to you or someone you love)
d) all of the above (Jackpot!)

So what's my beef with quote no. 3. Having a strict: "If vaginas, then no drinks" mental script makes you a cheapskate, mid game. Of course, avoiding the tab isn't an insurmountable obstacle and you could work your way around it--make the girl pay for everything. Even after you start dating her, its doable. But that makes you a parasite, not a player. Cough up the $10 and get the girl something that tastes like corn syrup and tonic water, scrooge.

to be continued...

Game

Annoying misconceptions part I:
"Nice guys finish last" and other phrases that need to be shot.

I heard a guy---okay maybe I was eavesdropping on the bus coz I had run out of reading material. Petty semantics. Whatever. Anyway, he quoted this cliche to his friend. "If you want to get a woman, you need to be a jerk". LIES AND BULLHONKY.

Women hate jerks. If I were to go out and openly mock a girl for anything longer than a minute, she would probably follow me home and key my car if she wasn't already too busy punching me with her tiny fists.

So why does it work for some guys? Coz they're not making as many mistakes as your average bloke. Assholes, for whatever reason, do not focus on what other people want. They don't consider what the girl would want, they don't second guess themselves. They're in the business to satisfy their own agenda and it doesn't really matter who gets hurt in the exchange as long as its not them. That's why they're assholes. Duh. If they're attracting women, it also means that they've know what the average girl's threshhold for verbal abuse is and have at least learned enough to back off if they see the warning signs: lack of eye contact, closed posture, throbbing veins in the middle of the forehead. In short, they're jerks in smaller, more acceptable doses around the women they want to attract. Devious.

This is what your typical jerkwad won't do (learn from this):
+ fear insulting a girl he just met. If you're afraid of losing a girl you just started talking to, chances are you've already lost the game. At best you'll come off as friend material---at worst, you won't even make it past her b**ch shield and you'll get blown out of the water.
+ smother his girl with gifts, phone calls, texts, emails, pokes, and loving faxes.
+ pay attention to how other people perceive him. Otherwise he wouldn't be okay with being such a monumental tool. This also means he's okay with stepping on other people's toes to get what he wants and this comes off as confident and in control > he becomes the alpha male of the group and women eat that shit up.
+ lose attraction. This is a big one. Since your average ass is going to be doing things to drive his girl away from him, this actually works to his favor. Every time the girl comes back to him or forgives him, she's giving herself a mental hernia from the effort she's putting into that relationship---she's investing that much more into it. The more investment in the relationship, the more she feels like she's leaving behind if she initiates a breakup. That means she becomes less likely to leave him as the timeline continues. Ever run into that girl who's dating an alcoholic who only hooks up with her on weekends and plays WoW for the other ...whatever 5x24 hours is? Now you know why she can't leave.

I'm not advocating that you start fights with your girl to drive her away so she'll NEVER EVER leave you. I'm suggesting you don't wait hand and foot on her or she'll take you for granted very very quickly.

A guy can still be nice and be attractive to women, but it definitely becomes a numbers game rather than a skill if you start off your interaction by trying to nice the girl to death. You don't have to be a dick to win over the girl of your dreams, you just have to learn when to be nice. Ideally this takes place after you've already done something to attract the girl. Once you've proven that you're actually worthy, being a nice guy will win you points. Just make sure that its not the only thing you do. And if you are determined to be a jerk, then tone it down and mix in some variety of cuteness. Its like girl crack.

Seriously. Try it.

To be continued...

Sidekicks wanted

For as long as I can remember, I've relied on emotional fuel to give purpose and therefore content to my writing. The first time I had to write an essay in second grade, I struggled. I couldn't for the life of me, figure out what to say--until I decided to write it from the perspective of an irate citizen protesting against the use of billboards next to freeways as they were dangerous, distracting, and a blight upon the perfection of God's creations. I denounced the crap out of those billboards and I'm pretty sure I made off with an A grade.

"So what gives, Rob? Why are you telling me about your pre-adolescent writing patterns instead of filling this page with your razor sharp wit and god-like analysis of all things pertaining to the very fabric of my wellbeing? I want to hear why you win at everything forever times infinity."

We'll get to why I win. But first, down to brass tacks.

The issue is, I'm actually very cool with the way things are going and as such, I've got little motivation to blog. I inspiration---otherwise what comes out is pretty much drivel. Words lacking any true meaning or congruency to how I really feel. In short, they're just words.
---------
Consequently, I need two people.

One of you will be my personal devil/demon. You will follow me around and whisper ill-advised, uncouth, and/or illegal suggestions into my ear. You will wear a red onesy and perch, whenever possible, on my left shoulder (sinestra). Bonus points for wielding a pitchfork. More for having one that shoots fire. If unable to grow facial hair in the shape of a goatee, applicants are encouraged to steal some from a friend or use a black marker. Tattoos also acceptable. Faux-devil is also required to laugh maniacally in a booming bass upon sighting my person. This is non negotiable.

The other party will play the role of the angel. You will generally disagree with the devil and talk in an unnecessarily high pitched voice. You must constantly be surrounded by some variety of flying white fowl. Doves? Seagulls? Albino crows? You decide. I'm not picky. Just make sure it flies and acts majestic. You'll also loan me money when I'm short and fetch me expensive caffeinated beverages so I don't have to listen to your annoyingly high pitched babbling all day.

I'll be accepting applications till March or whenever something suitably drastic happens to me. Whichever comes sooner.

Zzz...

The irony of all ironies is that, as I sit here typing this grossly superfluous message to a non-existent (or very comment averse audience), I am nearing almost a full year of employment at sleep lab...where we study all the fun, deleterious effects of prolonged sleep deprivation. Clearly logic has ceased to play a significant role in whatever planning mechanism is currently under my mind's employ. Long story short, I stayed up an extra five hours. And according to the little voice in the back of my mind that insists that there is more work to be done, I will probably be up until the sun rises or whenever someone catches me in the act of maiming my sleep patterns---whichever comes sooner. I wasn't partying. I wasn't having deep philosophical conversation. I stayed up to read the NEWS.

I have become an abomination. I have the sleeping habits of a freshman frat pledge and the interests of someone at least 2 times my age. I can literally hear the newsboy dropping off copies of the Times and the worst part is that I know he's late. Tomorrow is going to be difficult.