Folding is pointless (not the mass computing kind of folding)

Reasons to fold laundry:

1. Ease of transportation.  
   
2. Perhaps that folding makes clothes fit easier/more efficiently into a dresser.
   
3. Maybe clothes are easier to organize when folded into stacks, which works well with dressers.
   

Reasons I hate those reasons:

1. My crumpled up clothes fit nicely into a hamper, which, being a container, is also easily transportable
   
2. An article of clothing has the same mass regardless of whether it's folded or not.  So folding doesn't save space.
   
3. Dressers are the problem here, not the solution

Therefore I renounce the rediculous activity of folding laundry.  Anyone care to woodshop me a dresser that's got 6 drawers and is 5 feet deep?  

Update: OK socks may be the ONLY exception.

Update: Jeans appear to be an exception too... I feel like I'm on a slippery slope here...

Update: Son of a bitch.  Add t-shirts.

Update: OK fine, folding is worth it.  The only escapee is boxer-briefs.  Folding still sucks though.  See ladies and gents, the lesson here is that a "brilliant" "passionate" idea such as 'folding isn't necessary' turns out to be "idiotic" and "you fucking moron."  Erego, just cause you think you crapped gold doesn't mean you shouldn't turn around and look for signs of shit.

I'm not here to learn

My blogger dashboard suggests to me that the noteworthy blogs out there in the world generally are informative in nature, apparently ready to benefit a large audience with a vague story-like impression of knowledge so the audience might be able to skip off to the water cooler and spread little tidbits of learning amongst colleagues.  Take "The Lettered Cottage" for instance, or "Things to Look At."  Or "Craft Synergy."  If I were to believe these are the true noteworthy blogs, then I suppose mine doesn't stand a chance - if the blogosphere is high school, then my blog is under the bleachers smoking weed while the cheerleaders rally the stands.  

There are things I'd like to learn.  But when it comes to blogs, my cup of herbal tea is witty writing (whether or not mine actually is, I don't care).  Give me a quick, dirty, well-written story about anything and I'll quietly thank you from my end of the dsl.  Try to draw me in with a story about your latest knitted kitten sweater, and I'll kindly be on my way to hunting grounds with bitchier prey.

WJ's Christmas List of Basic Human Rights

• The right to look hot as you see fit
• The right to be a bitch with a good heart
• The right to be a boring nice person
• The right to be an occasional gigantic moron
• The right to bring it back to smart
• The right to shuffle through as many sides to your personality as you fucking please
• The right to take advantage of those who take advantage
• The right to be taken advantage of
• The right to say fuck you to social norms while still happily playing with those who abide by them
• The right to use your life and the world to explore every corner of yourself
• The right to be a douche bag who gets inspired every now and then

I'm sure some less palatable actions could be justified by the above, but I'm going to invoke my right to not give a shit about how people interpret my words. Did I not put that on the list?? Wouldn't be the first time words were bended for twisted justification, speaking of which happy belated miracle child's birthday.

I have come face to face with the latin-american, male, 20's, black haired Bea Arthur.  And it. is. FIERCE.  

So's your face, Madrd

Interview with the Spanpire, Madrid

Isn't the title clever? What does clever mean again? Whatever, it's fun and I like it.

Today, in Madrid, I interviewed a potential candidate for a job, and empathetically watched the poor feller sweat balls because he clearly thought that the interview would be in Spanish. I could tell that's what he thought because he more or less said so. I can only imagine walking into an interview and finding out it would be in Spanish - I am confident I'd bow akwardly, offer a handshake, stutter an "hasta luego!", and run to the bathroom to calm my seething sweat glands.

As far as job interviews are concerned, I do believe I just became a life lesson for that guy. Or at least something to think about/clarify next time he heads into an interview. Or at least a fun story to tell his friends. Or at least a passing thought on his way out the door. Or at least...

Drugs, NL

In looking for reviews of Amsterdam coffee shops, I came across the following comment on a place called "The Magic Mushroom Gallery."  It gets interesting toward the end:

" Csenorchurls from USA. Sent 27 May 2007.
I was visiting a good friend lately and we were reminiscing about our visit to Amsterdam in Jan 06 and looking at your site when she chided me for not mentioning one of our stops and since she is one of my best friends on this planet I promised to fix my error. We stayed on a houseboat, got completely lost and ended up wandering into the Magic Mushroom Gallery for directions, they not only gave us directions on how to get back to our houseboat but they also sold us some killer shrooms. Her girlfriend had never tried shrooms before, a fact we made the clerk aware of and he steered us towards some gentle ones, we ended up giggling all night watching old Tom and Jerry cartoons (the tape was in the VCR provided by the houseboat) and at one point in the stoned evening she informed us that she had gone to the bathroom and 'pooped butterflies' which of course resulted in more giggles. My mistake is now fixed, two thumbs up for Magic Mushroom Gallery!"

Mellow Giggles

When reminiscent sincerity and unexpected revenge kick it, I'm overcome with mellow giggles.

I just recently left my old job.  I just today wrapped up writing everyone in my old office personal emails, expressing to them, in so many words, I loved hanging out with them, learned a lot from them, and wish them the best life has.  And I've heard back from them all, and it warms my heart to hear the kind words they've had to say.  To some degree, as much as a one-and-one email exchange can, it lets me know that I really did make some great personal connections over the past three years.

Well, I wrote everyone at the old office... except the dear lady who was my boss.  I wouldn't dare speak unkindly of her, but.  

I didn't do it on purpose, not writing her, but now that I think about it, I'm overcome with mellow giggles.  

Madrid, Spaingland

Just when you've realized you've (once again) burned out the circuits in your (yet another) American appliance, in this case a cheapo beard trimmer, and your face starts to look a little sasquatchy, you check out the bathroom at the Abba Castilla hotel in Madrid and realize those damn wonderful bastards have provided with you a cheapo shaving kit to mold your face into badassedness.

Aside from the last paragraph being an incredibly relatable story that likely most men have been through word-for-word, doesn't it's run-on-sentence just jam up your cerebrum??

Long story short, I really wanna look like:

Madrid, Spain

I now have a better appreciation for how a (insert minority slang word) feels when completely surrounded by (insert majority slang word). I can catch words like "muy" and "tambien" and "jamon y queso", but other than that I'm pretty much left to invent what the spaniards are talking about. Which can be fun.

An Unoriginal Thought, Madrid, Spain...

...Buy my jewish friend a menora and give it to him on Christmas, with a card saying "I/we/they/trinity forgive(s) but don't(oesn't) forget bitch."

Ann Arsterdam, Michigetherlands

Every now and then a change comes along that shakes things up, makes me re-prioritize certain aspects of my life. I'm undergoing a heavy re-evaluation of who means what to me, and I'm closing in on a point where I hope to trim false relationships instead of pretending they're mutually beneficial. Or, at the very least, re-align my expectations - and spend more time with those who've proven they care about me.

The result? I'm cutting contact off with everyone except Dennis Reynolds. Anyone have his number??

10
14
10

Stagnant sunlight is the dominant king

But be careful, cause the afternoon will smack your bitch ass

That's how the Netherland's goes my biotch

Enjoy your hi-ku times 2. Peace.

1st Street, Ann Arbor, Michigan

On his fourth pass through the neighborhood looking for a parking spot, he realized that some streets are restricted only M/W/F and others only T/Th. He squealed with delight, and made a mad gas pedal dash to an open spot. The delight wore off as he realized he probably could have picked up on that little detail about 3 months ago.

Then he went to Espresso Royale and decided to write in third person.

Travelers Towers, Southfield, Michigan

Remember those sweet gay childhood days when garbage patch kids were the coolest? Well surely I'm behind the times (considering the concept was first published in 1988), but apparently there's a new garbage patch in town.

Espresso Royale, Ann Arbor, Michigan

The old lady who lived in a shoe is now sitting right next to me. She has her Mac out and I'm trying to spy and see if she actually knows what she's doing.

12:44 PM - Has a "City of Ann Arbor Zoning Districts" document on screen, looks like a PDF. She hasn't stayed still on a single page yet though, she just keeps scroll-whipping the screen up and down.

12:47 PM - A moment's panic that she'd kicked it... in reality, she'd gotten to a page in her PDF where the content was sideways, and so she was tilting her head to read it. I guess turning the laptop sideways has not occurred to her yet. Ok it's now a full 2 minutes later and her head is still sideways. Hmmmm should I be concerned??

12:52 PM - OK her head is still sideways. And she's turned her body a little, and instead of turning her Mac on its side to view better, she simply turned it to the left in the same direction as her body.

12:53 PM - K I'm bored with her now, she's still looking at the PDF document. I hope it's really interesting to her, cause I really thought that'd be a more interesting spy game to me than it was.

MSU vs Iowa, East Lansing, Michigan

It's fun to stumble on a random tailgate, grab some food, and hash out gay rights with the only person left as all his friends had tickets to the game.

In general, given the amount of alcohol that goes on at tailgate, I'm continually amazed that discussions around non-straight-ness seem to always end up settling amicably.

Travelers Towers, Southfield, Michigan

Awards, certificates, plaques... these are all fantastic rewards for hard work. But nothing quite compares to that occasional correspondence, in this case email, in which a colleague expresses his admiration of my dedication and ability to be the "early bird" and get things done.

Never mind that he's 6 hours ahead and probably confused my time of day.

Have I ever told you about my fondness of exaggeration and the thrill I get from admitting it?

Whole Foods, Ann Arbor, Michigan

Upon being offered some parmigiano-reggiano by a nice Whole Foods employee, I of course accepted. Whether I meant it or not, the next sentence out of my mouth was "This is good, but it's not as good as the parmigiano I had in Italy last week."

In Kevin-speak, this probably translates to something like "Here's a perfect chance to try out some jackass-style humor, while at the same time announce to anyone in ear-shot that I was indeed in Italy last week and therefore am something of a big deal."

I do believe I heard a few nearby shoppers vomit, including Pat. I couldn't stop myself from laughing.

Oral Surgeon, Saline, Michigan

I couldn't avoid a sense of both accomplishment and panic when the nitrous oxide felt paltry relative to the other... stuff... I've been exposed to since college. On one hand, I've experimented and had fun and tried new things, which is what life's all about. On the other hand, perhaps a nice cocktail of... stuff... might be better for numbing me up.

And when the oral surgeon asked what kind of pain medication I'd like, I nearly let out a snarky giggle as I uttered through my cotton-stuffed mouth "Vicodin will be fine."

Espresso Royale, Ann Arbor, Michigan

Amazing insights and contributions to my Advanced Finance group are courteous of the melodic trances found in the Boards of Canada song "Davyan Cowboy." And the songs "Constants are Changing" and "Peacock Tail" too. I'm a sucker for wordless repetitive beats and electronic-y sounds.

Lemon out.

Espresso Royale, Ann Arbor, Michigan

The old woman who lived in the shoe is sitting 30 feet across from me with a Mac.  She's got the cutest overalls on with a blue pinstripe shirt, and a grey-haired bob that won't quit.  The modern backpack at her side suggests that despite her minimum 70 years age, she can walk to the coffee shop and lug around a laptop like the best of 'em.    

Rock on granny.  Even if it does look like you're falling asleep every few minutes. 

Rijswijk, Netherlands

To maybe four or five people, including myself, it's not surprising that I sometimes piss on things that are not toilets when severely drunk.  What is surprising, however, is that for once I remembered doing it.  WhileN Io won'tv revealo thet namel of the hotel, I'll say that I am slightly regretfull of vandalizing an internal hotel wall.  My bad.

Moscow, Russia

For every set of portable toilets in Moscow (think tailgate-style toilets), a crazy lady occupies at least one and keeps the door open.  Each of them keeps clothing and other shit in there, and occupy the space all day.  Why, I do not know.  I never got close enough to find out, but I'm sure I wouldn't want any part of it.

San Donato, Italy

How could I pass up something as tasty sounding and looking as a parmigiano reggiano burger?

I couldn't, but seeing as it was McDonald's, I really should have known better.  My brain made a bad decision, and once again my stomach paid the price.  Actually my colleague paid the price too as she had to pretend she couldn't hear my upset stomach all afternoon.  And better yet, what the hell am I doing eating at McDonald's in Italy?  All I can say is McD's has a firm grasp on the work time crunch.

Nelsonville, Ohio

Nelsonville, Ohio is home to both a guaranteed headache en route to OU, but more importantly the Ohio Valley Trading and Exchange store.  In large white block letters on the western facade of the store, Ohio Valley Trading and Exchange confidently promotes "Guns" and "Cash Loans".  Dearest darlingest momsie and popsicle, I now have all I need to be an Oxycodone-dealing Republican.

Sugar Grove Road, Ohio

On 33 West in Ohio, near Sugar Grove Road, a billboard sign reads "Abortion Stops a Beating". According to a good friend, there's also picture of a heart meant to complete the phrase, but I can't help wonder if some organization is secretly trying to tell Ohio that children surely wouldn't be beaten if they were never born. 

Let the name fool you

Witty Jean isn't feeling witty tonight, most likely due to the ambien he just tossed back.  Goodnight America, goodnight Milan.