Friday, August 26, 2011

30 Guy Facts

One of my female friends said I write about girls a lot and that I rarely ever talk about guys. I reminded her that I'm straight and I'm much more interested in females and their psychologies and philosophies than males, since I'm a guy myself and I already understand the facts on how we work. She said I should share those facts. "Sure, why not," I thought. So here's some stuff you girls should know about your normal guy:
• As much as you may want to talk about past relationships, zip the lip. When you tell a guy you are still good friends with an ex, that translates to, "We still hook up occasionally." Whether it's true or not, it runs through our heads.

• Always wait to hear how many people he's slept with before you reveal your numbers. Anything above 7 is generally considered slutty, and anything below 3 is generally considered a lie.

Working on a car...
...and secretly playing World of Warcraft.
• Every guy has one "dorky" hobby; some guys play video games like Halo, others build paper airplanes or work on their cars. While you may be desperate to change them, let them have this one thing and you can keep yours. It'll keep everyone sane.

• Guys like it when it's bare. You know where.

• We don't like your drunken alter ego. If he's really nice he will hold your hair back while you puke, but you're still The Girl Who Puked.

• Never walk into the bathroom without knocking first; there are some things that guys just don't want you to see (or smell). If they're in there for more then 10 minutes, you should wait about 20 before you walk through that door.

• Unless it's jeopardizing your relationship and involves large sums of money or violence, don't criticize a friend of your man unless he brings it up first.

• Try not to go through our shit. But you will anyway, so once you do, don't tell us.

• Guys like compliments too. If you tell us you like our shirt, we will actually remember and wear that shirt again.

• Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: Do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.
• Stop saying we're complicated. We do simple things - both sweet and stupid - for simple reasons. It virtually always boils down to us being either a.) hungry b.) horny c.) bored, or d.) seriously, we just forgot. It's not that we don't care. We just... forgot. We don't want you mad at us anymore than you want your period. And we don't want that, either.
"But I spent years trying to change you.
Why aren't you the man I once knew?"
• Men don't like to talk face to face as much as women do. Especially if you're arguing or bringing up a sensitive subject. Wanna make things easier? Sit next to him (and not in front of him where guys are subconsciously confrontational) when discussing an important matter. 

• Unusual spots for sex turn us on. Men like to get out of the bedroom. They'd like you to offer up your bathroom, your kitchen, and other unusual spots for a special afternoon of love-making. There's nothing like sex in the afternoon. And when it comes to fantasies, they're more than happy to play along with yours, and they love for you to indulge theirs. Another guy request: They want to talk to you about sex, openly and candidly. Think of it as giving him updates. The way ESPN does. 

• Just like knuckles, some guys can "crack" their penis. Just ask 'em. 

• Yes there are nice guys out there. And yes, it pisses us off when you girls say we don't exist.

• Both genders have their insecurities. Whether it's true or not, just tell him he has the biggest penis you've had. Hey: We always say you're the most beautiful, right?

• Guys who like girls that are into religion do so because it gives them something to believe in - and something to scream during sex. Corruption can be a sexy challenge. 

• They don't want to hear about your period. Period. 

• Sometimes sports take priority over sex. Especially during playoffs. Before you and your fragile ego get hurt, how often would you rather be doing something else instead of sex? Bingo.

• If your guy's Facebook or online status says "single", he is not your boyfriend.

At least, not a good one.
 
• A guy will silence your calls when he is a.) At a sporting event, b.) At the bar, c.) He's pissed at you, or d.) Hooking up with another girl. And yes, sometimes c and d can go together. 

• If a guy seems into you but doesn't act on it, one of his friends wants you.

• Some guys pee sitting down. 

• They like getting head more than giving it. ALWAYS. 

• If a guy you like asks you to hang out, it's okay to bring a friend the first time - from then on, save the sidekick for parties and other social events. 

• If a guy has small hands or feet, don't comment on it unless you're prepared for an awkward situation. 

• If you approach it the right way, you can get any guy to watch Sex and the City with you. 

• We look at porn on the internet. Yes, we do. 

Seriously. Yes we do.

• If they smell like pot, they've probably been smoking. If they smell like booze, they've probably been drinking. Put your interrogation flashlight away.

• He secretly thinks at least one of your friends are hot.

And you secretly know which one it is.

-HKR

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Suicide and sex and other things that mix.



For the most part, I fail to see the issue with suicide.

Life sucks? End it. After all, when you don't like what's on TV, you turn it off. And when you don't like what's on the radio? Punch the knob. Did you fuck up on a drawing? Throw it away.

Put those torches and pitchforks down. I'm not saying I wouldn't care. If someone I know commits suicide, I'll admit if I was close to them of course I'd become completely unhinged and then furious at them for doing it. But while I'm on this honesty kick, I also have to admit that while anger would immediately surface via finding out my friend is dead, it would also fade within - I'd say - a week. Very serious. Be honest. Could you really be horrifically angry for more than a week straight? The pain would still be there, sure. That's not a question. Even if it was your husband or wife that committed suicide, you would be bed-ridden and barely eating for a month at most. And then one day you'd get out of bed. And walk around. A couple weeks later you would walk outside. And eventually go back on Facebook and see that - lo and behold - everyone else has moved on. And by the end of that year you'd be working again, laughing at jokes again, and maybe even dating. A decade later you'd fall in love, maybe have a kid, and so on. Twenty years later, maybe a song would pop up or someone would say his or her name and you'd feel that twinge - happens to me all the time - but you'd hardly be paralyzed in misery the way you were the week after. In fact, you wouldn't even think of them that often. There might even be days or entire weeks when that person didn't even cross your mind. This is not a bad thing; it's the natural effect of time passing. Bottom line is: everyone is eventually fine.

Look, suicide isn't for everyone. I know the arguments: "What about [insert family/friend here]? How would they feel if you left them behind?" Well first off, the term "leaving behind" implies dying is going forward, so that's fine. Then they should be happy. And second, the people who lived on? How could I care? I'm dead. If I'm in Heaven, I'm happy. And if I go to Hell, then chances are I've bigger things to worry about than what kind of brownies aunt Linda made for the reception. The third alternative? Nothing. Absolutely nothing could happen after you die. No Heaven, no Hell, nothing. Curtains drop, fade to black. That's it. And in that case, I won't even see any of you later anyway. I'm dead. I will have ceased to be, as Monty Python put it. Alone. Except for the worms, of course.

Which is why I've never subscribed to the silly philosophy of, "God only gives you what you can handle." Clearly that's not true, or the mere notion of suicide wouldn't even exist. If people were only "given" what they could handle, then no one would ever feel so helpless and out of control that they would rather just give up and punch the Off button instead of pressing on. To make things worse, people defend it by saying, "Well, suicide is man's choice, not God's." Well first of all, no one said anything about it being God's choice. And second, God made the person and the person's soul and brain and had him born in that particular time in that particular part of the world. God created that person in that environment of family and friends and susceptible to their ideas and behaviors. If everything is God's plan, then that means he knew before he even created this person that what would happen in their life was more than they could emotionally handle. Getting fired, amputated, bankrupt and having the wife and kids die in a car accident all in one day? That stuff happens all the time. Some people have the mental fortitude to withstand that kind of onslaught from life. Some don't. The people who commit suicide are the people who didn't. And all they ever did was get set in this rat maze called "God's Plan."

Which is why I tend to leave "God" out of these conversations. When people insist on using him on these issues, he tends to come out of it looking like a huge asshole; And I prefer to think of whoever created us - God or otherwise - as someone with a bit more wisdom, patience, and forethought under its belt.

To put it simply: I have more faith in our creator than that. If there is one.

Is suicide wise? Most of the time, of course not. Look, I'm not condoning the act. Life can be the most gorgeous thing to ever happen to you. Like my father used to say: "Try to wish you were never born when you're making love to a beautiful woman," - which is probably why I do enjoy women so much; They keep me in track. Sex gives me a meaning for life. And I don't mean that in some shallow, nymphomaniac angle. I mean that in the quintessential light of romance. Truth is, we will never be able to invent anything life like sex, animalistic fucking with abandon, or especially, passionately making love. Nothing.

There's nothing so absolutely chaotic and beautiful that you can do as sex. It's an absolute mess. Your body is out of control, hitting that hidden 7th gear that you suppress 99% of your life. Your senses flare to unimaginable heights, you start sweating like animals, you hyperventilate, every nerve ending buzzes with every twist, turn, pumps, arch and grip. You don't act anything like your normal self. One human is inside another. And you don't stop. You just go faster, and you get addicted to the moment and you simply want more. You encourage with sounds, yelling, moaning, clawing with your nails, biting, wrapping your legs around them, and the bed, well... you kick the shit out of that bed. You become an animal. It's the human soul at its most primal. You have one goal and, for the one and only time in your life, you have a clear goal. An easy target. A natural method. And you have the time of your life doing it. Everything is simple. And when you get to the summit, that delicious peak of tightness, you go blank. There's a fraction of a second where you lose consciousness and any and all thoughts disappear. They shatter and scatter and cease to matter. Religions use to believe the climax was the closest man could get to God without actually dying. It's the purest moment of life.

Suicide is as romantic as it can be cowardly; just for a different reason. Sex can save your life if you see it that way. It's probably dangerously unhealthy to let another soul be a safety net for yours. But to each their own. We're all wired differently. If someone is in such anguish that that make the choice to press the off switch, I can't really judge them - I didn't live their life. And while I might like to regurgitate fortune-cookie lines like, "You have so much to live for!" or, "Life will get better!" I don't know that for sure. People die old, miserable and alone all the time. Go to a dive bar and you'll see half a dozen bitter 60-year old men in flannel shirts bitching about life and heartbreak. Who's to say my friend wouldn't end up like that? I can't. Because in truth, I only want my friend to keep living so I don't feel sad. Because him dying would hurt me. I'm not considering the fact that he or she just might be saving themselves from a longer, worse life with an agonizing ending. All I know for sure, is that if they die, they won't be sad anymore. That's a harsh truth.

Sometimes, suicide really only affects one person. And no one else.

In the end, it always does.

Even stars die.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Feet Fashion Fascism Fetish

Girls have very strange habits. They may make fun of guys for watching TV or playing video games all the time but at least it's free. It's not costing any extra money and a least we're not bothering you. We're just quiet, not arguing and most of all, we don't ask you to hold our purse and sit in a chair while we try our games out.

Now I admit that a boyfriend who plays Xbox all the time, doesn't work, go to school or even try in life should probably be broken up with. Because first of all, Xbox sucks. And second of all, if a game is more important than your girlfriend, then maybe you should just duct tape that rumble pack to your crotch and be single for the rest of your sad, online life. But again, the pro to that con is that, hey, it's free. Guys by nature are not high maintenance. Some turn out to be, but that's a different (metrosexual) story. Girls have, ever since the invention of fashion, been strangely competitive when it comes to clothes and jewelry.

It used to be, a fair maiden in the medieval times would want to look pretty for her knight when he came home after months on a crusade. A pretty veil, maybe a little tiara, a simple necklace, and viola! You're hot, perfect, beautiful, and ready to get lanced-a-lot. But slowly over the decades and generation, fashion has been less and less about looking pretty for guys, and more and more about trying to be prettier than that other girl.

Girls, for instance, buy things at the store in hopes that they go to school or a party and another girl goes, "Oh. My. GOD. Where did you get that!? That's soooooo cute!" They want to be the first and only ones to have it. And shit, God forbid they find another girl wearing those same earrings or that same cute purse the next day. Because they want fucking credit for starting that trend. "Bitch stole that from me. I wore that last week!" That's what they say in their heads. Unless one of their friends is around, in which case they'll rant to them. I hate people who rant.

[pause for irony]

He'll look at this picture over a hundred times,
and he still won't be sure if she even has feet.



Anyway, another thing that I don't get about women's fashion is the painting of the toenails. Don't get me wrong: I'm glad you women make yourselves all shiny and smelly-nicey. But you paint your fucking toenails and then what do you do? YOU WEAR SHOES! Not flip-flops or sandals. You wear fucking shoes. That's like wiping before you shit. And even when you do wear something that reveals those cute little digits on your feet, I have never, ever, EVER, seen a guy walk up to a girl with a drink in his hand and go:
"Hiiiii... you know, I saw your toes over there from across the club... and... I pretty much want to give you my credit card so you can max it out on a shopping spree, let you have half of my possessions, never talk to my friends again 'cause you said so, give my entire life to you and basically become your bitch for the next fifty years."
Doesn't happen, ladies. Us guys don't get turned on by your feet. They're cute, but we like them the same way we like a cool display in our car's sound system; It comes with it, but it's not why we're interested.

That's not to say we don't care, but if your hair looks and smells amazing (this is very underrated, by the way), your makeup's perfect, your eyes are shining, your lips are sultry, you're wearing a shirt that shows most of your boobs, your stomachs showing, and your pants wrap around your legs so it looks like you were poured in them.... hate to break it to ya, but those fuckin' zebra-striped toes don't come into play.

Girls may defend, "It's not for you! It's for us! We just wanna feel pretty!" Bullshit. Your girlfriends tell you that you look pretty so they:

a.) know what to copy or
b.) know you look bad but won't tell you 'cause that makes them look better.

And you've all done that at some point, don't even lie. And I don't care what you say, how bisexual you think you are, or how feminist/retarded you want to act, nothing in the world make you feel prettier than when a handsome man quietly smiles, looks deep into your eyes and softly tells you, "You look beautiful." No girlfriend of yours can do that. The opposite sex's acknowledgment makes you feel attractive. Your friend's opinions just keep your head above water.

So here's my guess: Women paint their toenails not because they want guys to notice them. Or to feel pretty. But because WOMEN. HATE. FEET. They do. I've never met a girl who went,
*gasp!* "FEET! I LOVE mine! Can I kiss yours!? Feetfeetfeet. I wish I could just cut mine off and wear them around my neck like a necklace. Or a feetlace. Is that a real thing? OGAWD WE SHOULD MAKE IT A REAL THING! I love feet!!" 
Women hate feet. I don't know why, they just do. They even go so far as to slip into denial about the size of their feet. If they're a size 8, they will fucking cram their entire foot and each of those toes into a fucking size 5. WITH A POINTED TIP. Which is bizarre, considering our feet fan out at the ends, instead of taper into a point. Why do they do that? Listen, women, you have smaller feet so you can stand closer to the stove.

Relax, I'm kidding.

But you can ask a girl about her middle name, her number of sexual partners, or her weight (which are more things girls are strangely defensive of) and they'll grudgingly tell you. But they will kick you in the golly bong bongs with their stilettos if you over-guess the size shoe their wearing.

Well I have some news for you, ladies. After everything you put them through, your feet probably fucking hate you.

-HKR

Friday, August 19, 2011

How I'll meet your mother.


I saw old people today.

Not that they're some strange anomaly or something. But it's rare (here at least) to find two elderly people together, sitting on a bench, looking at the ocean on a 78 degree southern California day, and not stuck in a retirement home eating pudding underneath a TV hanging from the corner of a ceiling.

To watch a couple who have been together for so long just sit silently is the real life equivalent of magic - happening very slowly, blossoming and revealing itself only to those patient and deep enough to watch and listen.

You could pass them by. But watching them causes you to realize things about yourself. You become more aware of your life and what it's not only missing but what it could be...

An old man sitting next to his wife of 50 years is amazing. He's denied leaving her, pushed through hard times of money, pride, guilt, loss, and the pressures of divorce and infidelity. And he has stayed by her side for half a century. And the woman has tolerated his mindless fumbles, his bad habits, smelly laundry, her own physical transformations of children and growing up, and the pressures of divorce and infidelity as well.
They are the heroes of our time. And here they sat; quiet, unassuming, letting the world scream, fight, shoot, blast, and complicate itself on by. That's why when one of them dies, along with greiving, there is a new peace. Peace in knowing their soulmate is moving on to a better existence - somewhere they'll meet soon. Peace in knowing they've lived a full life, and a life with the one they love most in the world. And that is the holy grail we all seek every single day in our lives.

We work to make money. To be able to support ourselves. To move out. To find someone. We get dressed, wear makeup and cologne to attract a partner. We write to get noticed. Sing to be heard. We do to be seen. We feel to be felt. We live to find the best possible way to die. And this rare and sacred instance of two old people I never knew was not something to be glanced at, walked on or passed by. It was to be cherished from the concrete wall fifty feet away, left of the #13 lifeguard tower with my sunglasses on.

These are the moments you observe, watch carefully and absorb. Let the incredible luck of finding a glimpse of true love in its afterglow - and yet its quiet peak - soak in. And one day, hope you'll be there too.

-HKR

Monday, August 15, 2011

Everything bad is good for you

The intellectual nourishment of reading books vs. video games is so deeply ingrained into our assumptions that it's hard to contemplate a different point of view. But the problem with judging new cultural systems on their own terms is that the presence of the recent past inevitably colors your vision of the emerging form, highlighting the flaws and imperfections.

Video games have historically suffered from this syndrome, largely because they have been contrasted to the older conventions of reading books.

To get around these prejudices, try this thought experiment:

Monday, August 8, 2011

and i want life in every word to the extent that its absurd

its a whole new ball game when you try to figure out your worth with other people. a lot of times i lay on my floor - sometimes next to my heater, sometimes next to my piano, aimlessly tapping the 4 highest keys in the dark - and i wonder where i stand with friends, family and the like. actually, that more or less a lie. i dont wonder. its more like thinking about where i know i stand with them. i guess we all want to matter very much to those we love and care for. but the world isnt always fair in that regard.

there are half a dozen souls on this earth whom i love more than my heart is even capable of; i swear, if my heart had a love cup, it would pour itself empty for these people, and when its gone, somehow there would be more in the reserves to pour out for them. but i think my biggest problem is that ive never known exactly how to show the people i care about exactly just how indispensable and essential they are to me. ive lost a few because of my failure to do so. i constantly hold people in pristine condition in my heart ... but i never figure out how to get the same treatment from anyone else. i always mean less to them than they do to me. could that be a good thing?

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Please stop.

I do not like having to turn the TV up when I hear your yelling slipping under my bedroom door and dropping from the vents.

I do not like having to remember where the vacuum is because I know I'll have to use it on the carpet from the glass I just heard smash.

I do not like having to lie to my little sister who's crying, cuddling her puppy, while I tell her it's nothing serious.