Thursday, July 11, 2013
What's Depressing, Episode 1
You know what's depressing? Seeing a girl that you already slept with appear on Plenty of Fish's "meet me" feature, and realizing she goes in the 'no' column.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
SPAM?
Hey, has anyone seen a spam message like this?
Can you please identify who this picture is claiming to be {name}@us.army.mil ? This is a Federal Offense to pose as a Soldier of the US Army. Please Identify yourself and explain why your pic is on this Soldiers Profile. You can call {number} Immediately to correct this. If not a warrant for your arrest will be made. You can also contact {name}@hotmail.com to correct this.
The strange thing is, googling for that number turned up some guy's personal website, who has the name and the email address.
Wait, I got it: http://www.army.mil/article/97786/
I still don't understand how this scam works; the scammers appear to be asking me to contact another victim instead of themselves. However, since this is likely a scam, I will refrain from replying and telling the person to go fuck himself.
Can you please identify who this picture is claiming to be {name}@us.army.mil ? This is a Federal Offense to pose as a Soldier of the US Army. Please Identify yourself and explain why your pic is on this Soldiers Profile. You can call {number} Immediately to correct this. If not a warrant for your arrest will be made. You can also contact {name}@hotmail.com to correct this.
The strange thing is, googling for that number turned up some guy's personal website, who has the name and the email address.
Wait, I got it: http://www.army.mil/article/97786/
I still don't understand how this scam works; the scammers appear to be asking me to contact another victim instead of themselves. However, since this is likely a scam, I will refrain from replying and telling the person to go fuck himself.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
July Life Plan
1. get the side business to the point where nothing is blocked on me. Then,
2. start doing salsa again. Then,
3. learn to fingerpick Wake Me Up but without growing out gross fingernails. Because Girls. Oh wait...that was the wrong video? Where was the one I saw that said fingerpicking gets you laid? It had the same guy in it. Oh here is it. Their serious and thoughtful treatise on the social...something something here's the link.
The simplicity is the beauty. I have an unusual desire to also learn wonderwall now.
2. start doing salsa again. Then,
3. learn to fingerpick Wake Me Up but without growing out gross fingernails. Because Girls. Oh wait...that was the wrong video? Where was the one I saw that said fingerpicking gets you laid? It had the same guy in it. Oh here is it. Their serious and thoughtful treatise on the social...something something here's the link.
The Downside of KPH
The problem with having a speedo readout in kph and not miles per hour is that tonight I happened to pass R-Place (the ridiculous gay club I frequently allowed myself to be molested at because it was my then-girlfriend's favorite place to dance) because it was between a hot dog stand and the entrance to the highway when, as I was about half way past, it occurred to me that my ex might be in line, and--not learning my lesson from five minutes prior when I turned my head to stare at a girl and realized I could have gotten into an accident doing so--I turned my head and stared at everyone in the line to get into R-Place, even though absolutely no good could come of it, and then saw a white girl with long hair who could possibly have been her and she was with a guy, which made me a sad panda and I flew around the area on the highways cranking the throttle open farther than I've dared before, until I and another car, who was possibly racing me, were blitzing through the tunnel and it felt like my rear wheel was developing a wobble, and I have no idea how fast I was going.
I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do about the wobble. I started skimming through this video but it was too boring to finish.
I can tell you that those kph numbers really go up fast. Like it only takes a few seconds to skip right through the numbers you haven't seen before to the numbers you're not sure you're comfortable seeing.
I'm pretty sure that since I've not over her by now, there is something I am doing wrong. Super wrong. I don't know what it is. I wish there was evidence based science that I could find on what things helps a person move on from a relationship quicker. Like eating at a certain time of day, or fasting, or certain kinds of hobbies, or getting shitfaced a certain number of times, or playing scrabble with strippers, idk. I can't think of any experiment that I can do by myself that would provide data of any value. Every relationship is so different it seems impossible to get a control.
The good news: I went to a haircut place and they fixed my hair. The difference is absolutely astonishing. The girl cutting my hair looked downright annoyed when I told her about trying to cut it myself, so in the future I'm going to leave that part out and make up a story about a disabled third cousin with special needs who is learning to be a barber or something. Such a person would probably still have done a better job than me. Also, for a second it seemed like the girl cutting my hair was trying to get me to ask her out. She asked if I had summer plans and I mentioned wanting to kayak and she made some comment like "I love doing that!" and I felt, for only a second, that I was supposed to ask her out. However, when it comes to someone who is an employee of an establishment, or whatever, I don't feel guilty being cautious. Especially since I need her to cut my hair.
Anyway. The bad news: the girl from PlentyOfFish that I am supposed to have a date with tomorrow isn't texting me back. Maybe she was asleep all night, or on a date with a different guy she met on PlentyOfFish (who I wouldn't be afraid of, because they are all jobless dickbags that live with their parents), but it could be I screwed up my text game. Who knows.
I also have no idea what I'm supposed to do about the wobble. I started skimming through this video but it was too boring to finish.
I can tell you that those kph numbers really go up fast. Like it only takes a few seconds to skip right through the numbers you haven't seen before to the numbers you're not sure you're comfortable seeing.
I'm pretty sure that since I've not over her by now, there is something I am doing wrong. Super wrong. I don't know what it is. I wish there was evidence based science that I could find on what things helps a person move on from a relationship quicker. Like eating at a certain time of day, or fasting, or certain kinds of hobbies, or getting shitfaced a certain number of times, or playing scrabble with strippers, idk. I can't think of any experiment that I can do by myself that would provide data of any value. Every relationship is so different it seems impossible to get a control.
The good news: I went to a haircut place and they fixed my hair. The difference is absolutely astonishing. The girl cutting my hair looked downright annoyed when I told her about trying to cut it myself, so in the future I'm going to leave that part out and make up a story about a disabled third cousin with special needs who is learning to be a barber or something. Such a person would probably still have done a better job than me. Also, for a second it seemed like the girl cutting my hair was trying to get me to ask her out. She asked if I had summer plans and I mentioned wanting to kayak and she made some comment like "I love doing that!" and I felt, for only a second, that I was supposed to ask her out. However, when it comes to someone who is an employee of an establishment, or whatever, I don't feel guilty being cautious. Especially since I need her to cut my hair.
Anyway. The bad news: the girl from PlentyOfFish that I am supposed to have a date with tomorrow isn't texting me back. Maybe she was asleep all night, or on a date with a different guy she met on PlentyOfFish (who I wouldn't be afraid of, because they are all jobless dickbags that live with their parents), but it could be I screwed up my text game. Who knows.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Data Security, or UPS is a Fucking Asshole
A lot of my friends think that I am weird for mostly shipping shit to work and amazon lockers. I began thinking I was weird to, so I started having things shipped to my apartment. Turns out, the delivery guys don't have too much trouble getting in the building, even though I'm not there to let them in myself. I'm guessing they have more than one package to deliver, and another resident (or the office) lets them in.
This breaks down when some asshole requires a signature.
First, it was a $10 usb cable for a samsung galaxy tab that I couldn't find in stores. Naturally, they attempted to deliver it three times and I wasn't there so the only chance was to go pick it up at the depot. I was tempted to let it be returned to the sender out of spite (and hopefully to cost the merchant money, hopefully convincing them that requiring a signature is a poor decision) however I was late for work and wanted a good excuse one day so I picked it up. That was FedEx. Not too bad.
Then comes UPS. Fucking UPS. This package was actually valuable. First, I rescheduled the last delivery to be today, because I had off work, so I was able to sit around all day doing nothing but waiting for a package. I didn't even shower, because the delivery asshat might show up during those twenty minutes.
Periodically, I rechecked the delivery status, only to discover that the final attempt had been made an hour prior to my checking. Strange--I never heard my buzzer. Or knocking. Also: its not even a fucking saturday. I've heard all kinds of nightmare stories about people not getting packages on saturdays--including people who go so far as to actually sit outside their house only to see the truck drive past without stopping. I would have waited outside, but there was absolutely no indication when they were going to attempt to deliver it, and I didn't want to sit around for 12 hours, and, also, the time required to get into the building to use the bathroom or get food would be long enough for the deliveryman to show up, knock twice, and leave. So.
At this point we are still within acceptable levels. Now is where the story becomes infuriating. The website didn't list a place to pick up the package. I started a customer service chat with a rep that took ridiculously long to respond, and they told me I have to sign up for some dumbass program. I don't like typing my real name into things on the internet, and I sure as hell don't like typing both my name and my real address on the internet. Then, these cockbags did that think where you have to have a symbol or a capitol letter in your password. This is a problem because my requirement for passwords is that I don't have to touch the shift key. Also, the dumbass companies that force you to use symbols and number are also the dumbasses that typically put arbitrary limits on your password length that are so low you still can't make a strong password.
Then it got worse. You know those questions your bank uses to verify your identity--the ones asking about your family and previous residences, most likely mined from your credit report? That shit is pretty creepy, but there's not a lot I can do about my credit report and banks using it without becoming super weird paranoid person. However, I think its reasonable to think UPS shouldn't be pulling that data. The more people who can access that information, the less secret it becomes. I am concerned that eventually there will be no more secrets left.
Let me break down which people, I think, can reasonably expected to get my real information:
The best trick, as far as I know, is to set up whatever accounts you need to, and them move. Especially with drivers licenses--those fuckers are all over knowing whether the address you gave them is actually some kind of P.O. box. I even had a guy in Washington's DMV look up the address I gave him with google maps. I was not happy about that. The joke is on them, though: guess who is going to establish a temporary residence in an apartment that rents weekly every time he needs to renew his license? This guy. And I'm not even doing it for the privacy/paranoia anymore. I'm just doing it because I'm pissed they wouldn't let me use my P.O. box.
So, obviously, the next step is to start ordering packages to fictitious names, because fuck UPS.
This will obviously prevent me from picking them up, but hopefully I can start guessing which packages will require a signature, and send those to an amazon locker.
[Edit]
The biggest problem I have with using alias' for anything is thinking up a good one. However, the best alias has been sitting right in front of me: Edward Snowden. We should all use it.
This breaks down when some asshole requires a signature.
First, it was a $10 usb cable for a samsung galaxy tab that I couldn't find in stores. Naturally, they attempted to deliver it three times and I wasn't there so the only chance was to go pick it up at the depot. I was tempted to let it be returned to the sender out of spite (and hopefully to cost the merchant money, hopefully convincing them that requiring a signature is a poor decision) however I was late for work and wanted a good excuse one day so I picked it up. That was FedEx. Not too bad.
Then comes UPS. Fucking UPS. This package was actually valuable. First, I rescheduled the last delivery to be today, because I had off work, so I was able to sit around all day doing nothing but waiting for a package. I didn't even shower, because the delivery asshat might show up during those twenty minutes.
Periodically, I rechecked the delivery status, only to discover that the final attempt had been made an hour prior to my checking. Strange--I never heard my buzzer. Or knocking. Also: its not even a fucking saturday. I've heard all kinds of nightmare stories about people not getting packages on saturdays--including people who go so far as to actually sit outside their house only to see the truck drive past without stopping. I would have waited outside, but there was absolutely no indication when they were going to attempt to deliver it, and I didn't want to sit around for 12 hours, and, also, the time required to get into the building to use the bathroom or get food would be long enough for the deliveryman to show up, knock twice, and leave. So.
At this point we are still within acceptable levels. Now is where the story becomes infuriating. The website didn't list a place to pick up the package. I started a customer service chat with a rep that took ridiculously long to respond, and they told me I have to sign up for some dumbass program. I don't like typing my real name into things on the internet, and I sure as hell don't like typing both my name and my real address on the internet. Then, these cockbags did that think where you have to have a symbol or a capitol letter in your password. This is a problem because my requirement for passwords is that I don't have to touch the shift key. Also, the dumbass companies that force you to use symbols and number are also the dumbasses that typically put arbitrary limits on your password length that are so low you still can't make a strong password.
Then it got worse. You know those questions your bank uses to verify your identity--the ones asking about your family and previous residences, most likely mined from your credit report? That shit is pretty creepy, but there's not a lot I can do about my credit report and banks using it without becoming super weird paranoid person. However, I think its reasonable to think UPS shouldn't be pulling that data. The more people who can access that information, the less secret it becomes. I am concerned that eventually there will be no more secrets left.
Let me break down which people, I think, can reasonably expected to get my real information:
- girls
- friends and family
- attractive, STD-free, female stalkers who ride motorcycles
- fucking NSA
- cell phone providers
- power/sewer/water/gas utilities
- internet providers
- the NSA
- bowling alleys
- creepy stalkers, law enforcement
- UPS and Fedex
- the dickwads at the NSA
- people on reddit
- the department of motor vehicles
- everyone on the internet
- the Federal aviation administration
- the cuntbags at the NSA
- doctors, lawyers, massage therapists, dentists, mechanics
- people I play kickball with
- my employer
- credit card companies, banks, credit unions
- and...the NSA
The best trick, as far as I know, is to set up whatever accounts you need to, and them move. Especially with drivers licenses--those fuckers are all over knowing whether the address you gave them is actually some kind of P.O. box. I even had a guy in Washington's DMV look up the address I gave him with google maps. I was not happy about that. The joke is on them, though: guess who is going to establish a temporary residence in an apartment that rents weekly every time he needs to renew his license? This guy. And I'm not even doing it for the privacy/paranoia anymore. I'm just doing it because I'm pissed they wouldn't let me use my P.O. box.
So, obviously, the next step is to start ordering packages to fictitious names, because fuck UPS.
This will obviously prevent me from picking them up, but hopefully I can start guessing which packages will require a signature, and send those to an amazon locker.
[Edit]
The biggest problem I have with using alias' for anything is thinking up a good one. However, the best alias has been sitting right in front of me: Edward Snowden. We should all use it.
Monday, July 1, 2013
[coding] Unsatisfied, Part 2
You could make the "sharding" piece scale indefinitely by allowing the sharding table redirect to another sharding table. Prevent cycles by assigning each table a number, and require that numbers always increase.
Six to Midnight, Part 2
Seems like I have a choice, between bitching about my dating situation, or changing it, and this time I'm choosing the latter. I know...no long diatribes about...girls or whatever. I don't really remember what I used to write about...I think I was just frustrated because I hated my job at Amazon. Anyway.
Appearances are Everything
So, hair. Fucked that up big time. Or, to be more positive, I elected to do an experiment to find out if it is ever a good idea to cut your own hair (its not) and the results were very conclusive, even with a sample size of one.
Body. I am doing this crazy new workout strategy where I stop exercising when I feel pain. It was a little depressing to see how little activity I must do if I go to the gym every day, (i.e. only 5 miles on the fake bicycle) however my knees no longer feel like they are getting stabbed with hot knives when I walk up stairs. Still have a soda belly, which is disappearing extremely slowly.
Clothing. Yeah...I'm not even going to tackle that yet.
Balls
Kickball. Awesome. Seriously: co-ed sports that people don't take that seriously...where have you been all my life? I mean I tried the sports thing repeatedly in philly..something was off. Maybe I was too shy back then. Maybe it was because there were always lots of old people. Somehow the entire leagues I play in are younger people. Also maybe it helps to join as an individual and be placed on the team of leftovers, where everyone wants to meet people. Oh wait, I know: in philly, I was always trying to play volleyball. Volleyball is not the best sport for meeting people. First of all, too many dudes play. Secondly...well actually that was it. That was the problem.
Today one of the girls on our team decided that four blocks was way to long for me to walk to my bike and gave me a ride from the kickball field to my bike. She emailed me later to tell me that my Falco is awesome. Unfortunately, and I didn't tell her this, but I actually have no idea if Falcos are that awesome or not. So I just read the Wikipedia page on them...and I'm still not sure. Apparently Falco isn't really a sportbike, but more of a "sporty roadster." This is kind of funny, because Wikipedia said my Ninja 250 (which I also bought second hand) was a "sporty standard." I wonder if I'll ever get a true sportbike? All I know is, the first time I saw a Falco it was butt ugly, however mine grew on me. The real question? How would Donald Draper take a compliment on his Italian motorcycle?
Then, tonight, I was putting gas in the bike after just having come back from kickball. I kept my helmet on and just flipped the visor up. I was wearing shorts, because of kickball, and some girl behind me said something like "nice bike...you should wear pants though." In shock, I spun around to flip her off for telling me to wear pants, but stopped myself at the last second because I was suddenly concerned that if I flipped her off she assume I was being a dick just because I'm just an asshole, and not because she told me to wear pants (when I give people the finger, it is very important to me for the recipient to know exactly why). By the time I thought it through and concluded that my fears were ungrounded, she had already turned away and moved on. I've thought about this, and obviously the correct thing to do would have been to give her the finger without looking. That way, they can only assume it was because of telling me to wear pants. I'm going to do that next time.
On a completely unrelated note, I hope to never again ride a motorcycle unless I'm wearing pants. Shorts leave me feeling way to exposed and I nearly burned myself on the frame at least twice.
Digital Love
Dating sites: Craiglist. There was a time, when, instead of going out and meeting people, I tried to meet girls via craigslist. That time was called college, sadly. Yeah, I hung out with a bunch of church people whose idea of parties did not involve three handles of captain (fun fact: chicken is fucking delicious when marinated in Captain Morgan 100 Proof and some italian dressing). I eventually got so good at weeding through the spammers that I found the actual girls that post (who I met in real life). Five years later, the spammers have upped their game. Instead of using the same paragraph over and over again, or trying to spin their bullshit in broken english for fake text speak (lol how r u) they are pushing out ads that are more believable than the ones made by real girls. To make matters worse, the market for girls is so competitive that when men respond to an ad they also flag it as spam simply to block other men from responding. So craigslist's anti-spam measures are steadily being trained to stop and block genuine posts from real girls. OkCupid is also still a waste of time, however a friend is going to help me with some profile pics, and I'll try to get her to help rewrite the words on my profile also. I typically only look at pictures, but it is my understanding that girls actually read the profiles. PlentyOfFish is a little better. A large number of ugly girls, and 2 cute ones, expressed an interested in meeting me. I sent some messages to the cute ones back and forth until both of them blew me off, and for the second time ever I had to cancel a reservation at the "speakeasy" bar (its not a real speakeasy: its not secret and they are clearly obeying liquor laws) near my apartment. Someday, I will take a girl there, and I will sample fun cocktails from the prohibition era. I mean I could take a dude also, but that would be lame. Maybe the fact that those girls blew me off has something to do with my email game...for all I know there was something I was supposed to do or not do, but I no longer have the time or interest to try to guess. I just don't care. Its too easy by comparison to meet girls in real life. It is my understanding that on PlentyOfFish I am mostly competing with broke, jobless dickheads who live with their parents. If these girls can't recognize....blah blah blah something that ends with the phrase "their loss."
Fuck dancing. I just want girls.
My ex girlfriend managed to make me bored of salsa without even going with me...ever. She claimed she liked going, but I got tired of trying to encourage her to go. I admit some of this was my fault for getting is distracted on the way out the door, but this post is only about things that I can blame on her. Anyway, apparently thursday nights are just, you know, so late. Unless of course we are going to the third floor of the gay nightclub, to her favorite spot deep in the back behind the stripper pole. Then thursday nights aren't too late. Anyway, my attempts to get good at salsa, for real, and my inability to find a salsa partner, were also frustrating. Also, the damn private lessons cost me a shit ton of money, and I basically wasted it all because I had no one to go dancing with (and no time to go b/c I was with my gf) and so I just forgot everything I learned. The only thing I remember is the part where I'm apparently doing everything wrong.
I think, instead, I'm going to abandon my quest to actually get good at dancing, and instead just get good at meeting girls while dancing. For those of you who dont salsa, I will inform you: these are very different skills. If you actually like to dance, you probably want to show up at clubs late when the regulars appear, and you wouldn't waste your time on beginner lessons, and you won't have a chance at conversation while you're actually dancing with a girl.
If you care more about girls then dancing, well, that's when you show up early, to catch the girls that just came to the club for the "lesson." In fact you probably want to avoid the regulars...seeing the same old dudes every week is flat out depressing. Also, you don't really need that many skills--there aren't many real salsa moves you can do while talking to a girl anyway. Furthermore, you should be taking classes. Beginner, group classes, all the time.
Except I still don't feel like it. There is something stale about the salsa scene in Seattle. I see the same lame people every night. I went to Vancouver for one fucking night and showed up at a club wearing a tiger hat I'd just bought, and managed to bring a girl back to the hotel. I've been living in Seattle for roughly 1580 nights and that still hasn't happened. Seattle. Fucking. Sucks.
While we're tossing around numbers, its been 45 days since the breakup. Still miss her. I think about her every weekday when I get coffee because that's something we did together. I like to fantasize about running into her and giving her the finger from across the street--or, if she's with her next boyfriend, running into her but being obvious about not acknowledging him as a human being. Every time this happens I force myself to also fantasize about accidentally running into her and smiling and waving, because that's what Good Guy Greg would do, but its never as enjoyable.
I definitely am not as hurt anymore though. I've been trying to figure out at what rate my feelings for her are subsiding, and what a graph of my feelings toward her would look like. They subsided slowly at first, then a little quicker, but now the last traces are slow to leave again. It's definitely not exponential or logarithmic decay. It might be a kind of quadratic decay where the term with the square has a negative in front. Hmm...yeah I'm seeing some polynomial decay functions that resemble how I feel. Its probably one of them. Without an empirical way to measure how I feel (the closest I've gotten is a scale from My Life Sucks to Throwing Recyclables in the Trash Just to Spite Her*) its kind of a moot point.
Probably, the next steps are to actively avoid thinking about her. It will probably be a lot like meditation, except I'm still allowed to think about other things.
*she cared a lot about the environment. Not in a save-the-planet kind of way--probably never heard of a thorium reactor--but more in a sort of what-meaningless-activities-can-i-inconvenience-myself-with-that-will-have-no-effect-on-the-environment. Once, we got in a big fight because she wanted me to put asparagus--a vegetable that does not have a skin that is peeled off--directly into the dirty store basket that was probably not cleaned since...ever. I don't consider myself a germaphobe, but I typically don't put things in my mouth after resting them on dirty shit that strangers might have peed on. She flipped her shit though. I later figured out that it was her ineffective bias against the plastic bag I wanted to put the asparagus in, and I rehearsed a long argument involving a graphic description of a 40-year-old trucker in the bathroom after taco bell but before not washing his hands and using the very basket she was holding. Sadly, I never got a chance to make this argument, but I rehearse it to myself every time I buy asparagus. One day, I fucking hope I will be in the grocery store near some stupid environmental bitch being a cunt to her boyfriend over a plastic bag, and when that day comes, I will tell both of them my made up story about a 40 year old shitstorming trucker that doesn't wash his hands before handling baskets as whole foods.
Appearances are Everything
So, hair. Fucked that up big time. Or, to be more positive, I elected to do an experiment to find out if it is ever a good idea to cut your own hair (its not) and the results were very conclusive, even with a sample size of one.
Body. I am doing this crazy new workout strategy where I stop exercising when I feel pain. It was a little depressing to see how little activity I must do if I go to the gym every day, (i.e. only 5 miles on the fake bicycle) however my knees no longer feel like they are getting stabbed with hot knives when I walk up stairs. Still have a soda belly, which is disappearing extremely slowly.
Clothing. Yeah...I'm not even going to tackle that yet.
Balls
Kickball. Awesome. Seriously: co-ed sports that people don't take that seriously...where have you been all my life? I mean I tried the sports thing repeatedly in philly..something was off. Maybe I was too shy back then. Maybe it was because there were always lots of old people. Somehow the entire leagues I play in are younger people. Also maybe it helps to join as an individual and be placed on the team of leftovers, where everyone wants to meet people. Oh wait, I know: in philly, I was always trying to play volleyball. Volleyball is not the best sport for meeting people. First of all, too many dudes play. Secondly...well actually that was it. That was the problem.
Today one of the girls on our team decided that four blocks was way to long for me to walk to my bike and gave me a ride from the kickball field to my bike. She emailed me later to tell me that my Falco is awesome. Unfortunately, and I didn't tell her this, but I actually have no idea if Falcos are that awesome or not. So I just read the Wikipedia page on them...and I'm still not sure. Apparently Falco isn't really a sportbike, but more of a "sporty roadster." This is kind of funny, because Wikipedia said my Ninja 250 (which I also bought second hand) was a "sporty standard." I wonder if I'll ever get a true sportbike? All I know is, the first time I saw a Falco it was butt ugly, however mine grew on me. The real question? How would Donald Draper take a compliment on his Italian motorcycle?
Then, tonight, I was putting gas in the bike after just having come back from kickball. I kept my helmet on and just flipped the visor up. I was wearing shorts, because of kickball, and some girl behind me said something like "nice bike...you should wear pants though." In shock, I spun around to flip her off for telling me to wear pants, but stopped myself at the last second because I was suddenly concerned that if I flipped her off she assume I was being a dick just because I'm just an asshole, and not because she told me to wear pants (when I give people the finger, it is very important to me for the recipient to know exactly why). By the time I thought it through and concluded that my fears were ungrounded, she had already turned away and moved on. I've thought about this, and obviously the correct thing to do would have been to give her the finger without looking. That way, they can only assume it was because of telling me to wear pants. I'm going to do that next time.
On a completely unrelated note, I hope to never again ride a motorcycle unless I'm wearing pants. Shorts leave me feeling way to exposed and I nearly burned myself on the frame at least twice.
Digital Love
Dating sites: Craiglist. There was a time, when, instead of going out and meeting people, I tried to meet girls via craigslist. That time was called college, sadly. Yeah, I hung out with a bunch of church people whose idea of parties did not involve three handles of captain (fun fact: chicken is fucking delicious when marinated in Captain Morgan 100 Proof and some italian dressing). I eventually got so good at weeding through the spammers that I found the actual girls that post (who I met in real life). Five years later, the spammers have upped their game. Instead of using the same paragraph over and over again, or trying to spin their bullshit in broken english for fake text speak (lol how r u) they are pushing out ads that are more believable than the ones made by real girls. To make matters worse, the market for girls is so competitive that when men respond to an ad they also flag it as spam simply to block other men from responding. So craigslist's anti-spam measures are steadily being trained to stop and block genuine posts from real girls. OkCupid is also still a waste of time, however a friend is going to help me with some profile pics, and I'll try to get her to help rewrite the words on my profile also. I typically only look at pictures, but it is my understanding that girls actually read the profiles. PlentyOfFish is a little better. A large number of ugly girls, and 2 cute ones, expressed an interested in meeting me. I sent some messages to the cute ones back and forth until both of them blew me off, and for the second time ever I had to cancel a reservation at the "speakeasy" bar (its not a real speakeasy: its not secret and they are clearly obeying liquor laws) near my apartment. Someday, I will take a girl there, and I will sample fun cocktails from the prohibition era. I mean I could take a dude also, but that would be lame. Maybe the fact that those girls blew me off has something to do with my email game...for all I know there was something I was supposed to do or not do, but I no longer have the time or interest to try to guess. I just don't care. Its too easy by comparison to meet girls in real life. It is my understanding that on PlentyOfFish I am mostly competing with broke, jobless dickheads who live with their parents. If these girls can't recognize....blah blah blah something that ends with the phrase "their loss."
Fuck dancing. I just want girls.
My ex girlfriend managed to make me bored of salsa without even going with me...ever. She claimed she liked going, but I got tired of trying to encourage her to go. I admit some of this was my fault for getting is distracted on the way out the door, but this post is only about things that I can blame on her. Anyway, apparently thursday nights are just, you know, so late. Unless of course we are going to the third floor of the gay nightclub, to her favorite spot deep in the back behind the stripper pole. Then thursday nights aren't too late. Anyway, my attempts to get good at salsa, for real, and my inability to find a salsa partner, were also frustrating. Also, the damn private lessons cost me a shit ton of money, and I basically wasted it all because I had no one to go dancing with (and no time to go b/c I was with my gf) and so I just forgot everything I learned. The only thing I remember is the part where I'm apparently doing everything wrong.
I think, instead, I'm going to abandon my quest to actually get good at dancing, and instead just get good at meeting girls while dancing. For those of you who dont salsa, I will inform you: these are very different skills. If you actually like to dance, you probably want to show up at clubs late when the regulars appear, and you wouldn't waste your time on beginner lessons, and you won't have a chance at conversation while you're actually dancing with a girl.
If you care more about girls then dancing, well, that's when you show up early, to catch the girls that just came to the club for the "lesson." In fact you probably want to avoid the regulars...seeing the same old dudes every week is flat out depressing. Also, you don't really need that many skills--there aren't many real salsa moves you can do while talking to a girl anyway. Furthermore, you should be taking classes. Beginner, group classes, all the time.
Except I still don't feel like it. There is something stale about the salsa scene in Seattle. I see the same lame people every night. I went to Vancouver for one fucking night and showed up at a club wearing a tiger hat I'd just bought, and managed to bring a girl back to the hotel. I've been living in Seattle for roughly 1580 nights and that still hasn't happened. Seattle. Fucking. Sucks.
While we're tossing around numbers, its been 45 days since the breakup. Still miss her. I think about her every weekday when I get coffee because that's something we did together. I like to fantasize about running into her and giving her the finger from across the street--or, if she's with her next boyfriend, running into her but being obvious about not acknowledging him as a human being. Every time this happens I force myself to also fantasize about accidentally running into her and smiling and waving, because that's what Good Guy Greg would do, but its never as enjoyable.
I definitely am not as hurt anymore though. I've been trying to figure out at what rate my feelings for her are subsiding, and what a graph of my feelings toward her would look like. They subsided slowly at first, then a little quicker, but now the last traces are slow to leave again. It's definitely not exponential or logarithmic decay. It might be a kind of quadratic decay where the term with the square has a negative in front. Hmm...yeah I'm seeing some polynomial decay functions that resemble how I feel. Its probably one of them. Without an empirical way to measure how I feel (the closest I've gotten is a scale from My Life Sucks to Throwing Recyclables in the Trash Just to Spite Her*) its kind of a moot point.
Probably, the next steps are to actively avoid thinking about her. It will probably be a lot like meditation, except I'm still allowed to think about other things.
*she cared a lot about the environment. Not in a save-the-planet kind of way--probably never heard of a thorium reactor--but more in a sort of what-meaningless-activities-can-i-inconvenience-myself-with-that-will-have-no-effect-on-the-environment. Once, we got in a big fight because she wanted me to put asparagus--a vegetable that does not have a skin that is peeled off--directly into the dirty store basket that was probably not cleaned since...ever. I don't consider myself a germaphobe, but I typically don't put things in my mouth after resting them on dirty shit that strangers might have peed on. She flipped her shit though. I later figured out that it was her ineffective bias against the plastic bag I wanted to put the asparagus in, and I rehearsed a long argument involving a graphic description of a 40-year-old trucker in the bathroom after taco bell but before not washing his hands and using the very basket she was holding. Sadly, I never got a chance to make this argument, but I rehearse it to myself every time I buy asparagus. One day, I fucking hope I will be in the grocery store near some stupid environmental bitch being a cunt to her boyfriend over a plastic bag, and when that day comes, I will tell both of them my made up story about a 40 year old shitstorming trucker that doesn't wash his hands before handling baskets as whole foods.
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