funny, creepy, or odd?

I tried to think of the most accurate term to describe an observation I had the other evening at the gym.

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For those who don't know, I am a member of the legendary Gold's Gym franchise. Or should I say, once legendary, for being the birth place of modern body-building. Now, Gold's gym is just barely tolerable as opposed to the other gyms in town which are adult versions of Chucky Cheese.

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That said, the bathrooms are not personalized by the members. They are no different then the bathrooms at the movie theatre, gas station, or McDonald's. Therefore, there is never any reading material in the bathrooms......or should I say......there never WAS.

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On my Tuesday session, an edition of Seventeen Magazine was sitting shotgun to the toilet. That's right, a Seventeen Magazine. My gut reaction was laughter. I love anything out of the ordinary when it comes to group dynamics. The naked guy at the party? Gets a high five from me. The kid who makes the sudden fart noises during class? Gets a high five from me. The guy who laughs during church? Gets a sign of the cross from me. The water balloon thrower who bombs the courtyard? Is me

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However, there is also a bit of creeped-outness to this discovery. Did someone understand the humor in this and place it there so everyone could get a laugh or was it some pervert doing pervert things with it? It should also be said that this magazine is not one of the many magazine the gym keeps on hand for people to distract themselves on the elliptical. I know this because those have un-removable sweat guards on them, while this magazine was as rambunctiously free as its target audience.

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I decided that the event was all 3 terms; funny, creepy, and odd. A trifecta! That said, I'll take one or all of those things that makes any of the 100 pee-trips I make per day unique.

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The picture above the toilet at work still takes the cake. This is still the creepiest picture I have ever seen and it faces me as I pee. I think one day I am going to steal it and keep it in my bathroom at home. Here is the picture, don't stare for a longer duration then it take to pee, I think it may steal pieces of your soul to provide itself energy to exist outside of hell.........

This post written while listening to: Bruce Springsteen "Radio Nowhere"

Yo Paulie! Your sistah's at ma place!

I've never been a picky person about my hair. I am not a polished type of person. Clean? well yeah....most of the time, but my grandpa always says "you can't shine shit" and the same applies to me. If I go too far out of my way, I'd show more faults then I would reveal beauty.

I am surprised everyday that I haven't shaved it all off yet. I think its because I am aware of the fact that my huge nose and ears would grow 2x as much once the hair is gone. I'd look like some kind of newt without hair. So, I often go long periods without hair cuts. There is also some detachment between me and my hair because I am aware of destiny to lose it all to genetical baldness.

So I reluctantly headed to my local barbershop, aptly titled; "The Men's Room". Now, I hate to call this place out cause it's my only hair refuge and I do go there, but it is the first week of NFL Sunday. Pause......I'll say it again....ITS THE FIRST WEEK OF NFL SUNDAY. Therefore, at a place named "The Mens Room", the NFL should be on every one of the 8 TV's in the place. Instead, Rachel Ray was cooking a quiche on 5 of them, and Nickolodeon was on the others. I would have settled for MTV or the news over that. I hate to say things like this because it has an undertone of bias, but there is a gay guy with a shaved head, a mid 40's woman, and one dude who I have never seen before and pretty sure its his first week there. He also has a shaved head. But this isn't a anti gay/woman thing, this is a business thing. So, lets have a culture of manliness in a place called "The Mens Room" which caters to the hair-care of men exclusively. The personality of the barbers should not come before the expectations of the customers. You get big boobs at hooters, knights and wenches at medievil times, dorks at a lan party, and football at the mens room.

So, I avoid the gay guy cause the last time I had him, he pointed out my receeding hair, as if I didn't know, and then proceeded to pretty much shave my head "cause shorter hair is better to hide balding" even though I didn't ask for it at all. The woman had a guy already, so I got the guy who was on his first week in the shop.

Now, I am always scared to have a new guy cut my hair. Plus, as a barber, you don't instill tons of confidence in me with your ability to manage hair, when you purposely take off all of your own. This guy looked like you cousin Paulie from Statin Island who did 6 months in the clink for a fake credit card scam, and he smelled faintly of a little B.O. and a hard Saturday night out. For some reason, I did not run out of there, I tend to give anyone who breathes air at least one chance to not screw me over. So I told him how I wanted it done, he stared at me blankly, and I sat down in the chair, and gripped the arm rests like I was getting a cavity filled at the dentist, rather than a standard haircut.

Things started off slowly using the scissors. No cause for alarm yet, except he was thumping my skull like he was testing a cantelope and pulling my hair like he was shucking corn. He was pulling more of my hair out, then he was cutting it, but he was proceeding along ok so far. He was really taking his time, and I began to have a lot of faith in him, cause I could tell he was going to give my hair his A effort. In the middle, I was feeling real good. He was working the scissors well, he was balancing it well, and he wasn't taking off tons of hair. Then.....he tried to work the top just a leeeeetttttllllllee bit more......

All hell did not break loose, he screwed it up a little bit, but it wasn't quite as good as he had it before he started. 16 bucks and a tender scalp later, I have a haircut that I am going to be messing with for 10 mins every morning so I don't look like I have a cesear cut.

This post written while listening to: Stellastarr* "In the Walls"

is it racist to say Indian Summer?

A little warning from your friendly neighberhood S.Vincent that the end summer is near. For the students, teachers, and parents out there it may appear that it is already over because school is back in session. A tragedy of a corrupt system!
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I have lobbied for several years for a social revoloution in regards to the perception that summer is over when classes start. I feel this illusion of the end of summer fun and the start of fall misery is an unfair principle put in place by the un-bearable "education and family" facists who believe their lives, which revolve around being in a prison of commitment and ideals, should apply to all of humanity. Well, I have got news for you facists; the calender, earth, God, and weather all say summer isn't over till the 23rd of September. Therefore, there is still plenty of time to have fun in the nice weather, go on a vacation, sit in the park eating delicious sandwiches, drive with the top down, watch baseball during the day, wear flip flops, and not give a general damn. Personally, I have a problem with anyone who thinks they are holier than thou, but whose life goals only really apply September to May. If their ideals held any real substance, they would be working on them full time, but thats another complaint for another day.
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So.....get out there and live it up for another 3 weeks. "Summer isn't over till its over, ya miserable facists!" I'm not entirely sure why the term "Indian Summer" is applied to summer weather that lasts into the fall, but I like to think it's because the Native Americans were intuitive enough to know that summer was over when it stopped being hot outside, rather than when some jerk-off told them summer was over.
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This message brought to you by supporters of S.Vincent for Emperor '08
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This post written while listening to: Stereophonics "Dakota"