Posted by todd
Tue, 20 Sep 2005 21:00:00 GMT
If it weren't for dumb jokes, I'd have no jokes at all.
The other night I met another of the waitresses at Kiyo's sushi, downstairs from my apartment. She said she recognized me, which I pointed out was probably because I basically live there, she said "No, you our special customer". Then she gave me some free edemame. Bonus!
Not one to turn down free soy beans, I accepted and we began to talk. Her name was Nao (Now), and she was a interior design major at the design college. Don't get your hopes up, the chance of an interior designer dating a guy who has a skateboard on his mantel aren't exactly high, but she was still a nice girl.
In addition to feeding me lots of beer, Nao spent her time explaining what the HELL was going on with the Japanese TV show we were watching. (The place wasn't exactly jumping.)
Japanese television is...odd. Actually, odd doesn't do it justice. Here's my amateur psychologist theory: Asian people are so socially and sexually repressed in public that they can't even look at you, but when they are on TV, it's just a camera. They really let loose. Like, bondage mixed with people in panda suits loose.
This isn't the first time I've noticed this. Once, on the way home from a vacation, I got stranded in Japan for an evening. In addition to pneumonia, I brought back the memory of what was clearly a public access show, where they were demonstrating how to properly whip your boyfriend (who was chained to the wall). Not that there's anything wrong with that. They seemed to enjoy it. Just not exactly Wayne's World.
ANYWAY... This show was fairly tame, but still odd. It involved a lot of singing by people in very tight clothing, which would be normal... except that every once in awhile Domo-Kun and his friends would show up on stage (Pictured above) and dance a lot. Also, the audience kept waving red and white flags, which I presume were for some form of voting. Oh, and the women liked to smack each other on the ass.
Overall, a great fucking show.
Nao had to go back to work so she left me for a bit, and when I was ready to order I said "Hey Nao!"... I instinctively repeated in my best Howard Stern voice "Hey Now!!!". That's when I choked on my beer.
Nao, as you would expect, didn't get the joke. Most likely you don't either. "Hey Now" is a Howard Stern tagline. She and just looked at me funny. There was no way to explain it, so I just let it go.
This is a stereotype, but bite me. Every Asian person I know is extremely impressed with my ability to drink....even when I haven't drank *that* much. This leads me to believe that Asians can't drink.
After two tall Asahi beers, Nao walked up to me and said "How much can you drink? You don't even seem drunk!". One difference is that I'm roughly 3x the size of Nao, and most other Asian women. Hell, I could probably eat an entire Asian woman. (Stay with me perverts) So it's really not a fair comparison. Also, I'm German, English, Irish, and something else I think... so... yeah.. it's in my blood.
Once, I had to drag my Malaysian friend Bonnie out of a bar, into a cab, and then carry her down the stairs into my apartment. She'd attempted to do all the shots my bartender friend had put in front of her. It didn't work out so well. (Don't tell her, but I also banged her head on the wall on the way down)
Hey, at least they are light!
Tags Domo, fetish, japan, Kun, sex, sushi, TV | 23 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 13 Sep 2005 19:28:00 GMT
AKA: Not getting any, got one, and got them all over my floor.
So, Gun Girl is officially gone.. Probably for good. That's life.
I'm officially Bachelor Todd again! This isn't really a good thing for me, nor what I wanted, but at least my stories will get more interesting again. It's all about YOU isn't it! You self serving bastards.
Like any real guy knows, after a breakup there are three things you must immediately do to get back into the swing of things.
1. Get blind drunk. When you can't move the next day due to a crushing hangover, you won't think about her as much.
2. Get pimped out and go hit on women. Even if they shoot you down, it gets you back into the game. This is a work in progress, and given the state of my haircut, I'm confident I'll get shot down.
3. Rent a Saxophone. Ok fine.. #3 isn't standard, but screw you it's my story.
Step 1 was easily accomplished, twice actually. Night 1 with my bartender friends, who fed me entirely too much Sambuca.(note: bartenders will hurt you if they know you live next door and aren't driving anywhere) Night 2 was with my friends that own/work for adult oriented companies (Welcome to San Diego). With those guys, their entire life is basically a big party, which really makes it hard for me to compete. After about 5 rounds of shots, my better judgment got to me and I retreated home, not to leave the couch until Monday.
Step 2, as I said, is a work in progress.
Let me walk you through the thought process that caused Step 3:
- Being single, I don't have much else to do. (10 hours/day on the computer is enough)
- It's healthier than drinking.
- It has lots of buttons on it, making it the closest instrument to a keyboard.. well, other than a keyboard. I type absurdly fast so it's sort of natural.
- At the very least I can squeal back at the bums when they bother me at night.
- A secret: I played Cello for many years growing up, even for the junior philharmonic a bit... until I quit during my death metal days. (Metallica stole that shit from ME!)
After spending an hour or so in the parking garage, I could play notes confidently enough that the cat wouldn't throw himself out the window. Don't get me wrong, I'm TERRIBLE... but at least now it doesn't just screech.
Now all I need is a blues song, and I'll be all set.. Lets try that.
The Bachelor Blues:
My baby done left me on Thursday.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
She said she just needed to think.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
My living room floor is all littered with socks,
and the laundry turned all my shirts pink.
The kitchen still smells like a fireplace.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
I can't even look at the sink.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
The bums are outside, playing ride sally ride,
so I guess that I'd better go drink.
I've got the.....
no lovin...
burnt oven...
not scrubbin...
bum buggin...
I got the bachelor blues.
Well Tonya served me up a strong one,
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
For good measure she had one herself.
(dun dun dun duh duh!)
Some scary lady, had her good eye on me,
but beside her I looked like an elf.
I've got the blues... I've got the bachelor blues.
-T-Bone
(Ok, so there should probably be at least one more verse, but I'm lazy.. So you make it up)
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags bastards, blues, breakups, drinking, gun girl | 15 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sun, 04 Sep 2005 00:49:00 GMT
Matt Groening (The Simpsons creator for those who live in a bubble) has a great quote.
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
-Matt Groening, "Life in Hell"
I don't know about all that personally, although a childhood book taught me "Never tease a weasel, not even once or twice, the weasel would not like it, and teasing, isn't nice.". Generally speaking, the lesson is don't fuck with weasels, but that is not the point of this conversation.
Back on the topic, today has been a comedy of errors.. I'm actually a bit worried about leaving the couch again, because there is a strong possibility of falling out a window or something. My plan is to drink wine until the landing won't hurt, and generally walking very slowly.
After getting dumped, basically because the girl and I got along too well(figure that one out!), I wasn't exactly in a good mood today.
After playing hermit most of the day, taking a nap, and basically being a mopey bastard, it was time to get my shit together. So I put in a movie, Hitch (poor choice given the circumstances, but it was still funny), and then paused it to go get some Chinese.
The Chinese takeout restaurant was closed... at 3pm... on a Saturday, on labor day weekend... in one of the busiest places in San Diego. Apparently the Chinese hate money.
This should have been an omen. A prompt return to bed would have been a better choice, and the thought actually crossed my mind because I've been here before.
Instead, I watched the movie, then grabbed a book and walked to Kiyo's, the sushi place below my apartment... promptly locking my keys in my apartment, and then myself out of the building itself. Shit.
Now a bachelor, or really any guy who was 100% wouldn't have let this stop him. Doors can be picked, walls scaled, and worst case windows broken. All that is just when they are bored, imagine when they get locked out!
However, a quick survey of the fire escapes showed that I'd have to scale around on the building ledge a bit to break in, which given my current luck seemed like a poor life choice. So like a grownup I called the management, who said they could let me in sometime in the next 5 hours.
Works for me... I can drink for 5 hours. It's a skill.
So, off to Kiyo's I go, book in hand.
This is where the only good part of my day occurred. Yuki, the cute waitress there remembered me even though a) it had been a few months since I saw her. b) last time I had on a cowboy hat.. and c) I now have no hair.
Unfortunately her understanding of English is only slightly better than my understanding of Japanese (this would be nil), which combined with my mumbling means we can barely talk...but hey, cute is cute.
So there I sat, reading my new book, drinking Sapporo, and occasionally mumbling at Yuki who in return did that demure little Japanese girl smile. I'm certain she had no idea what I said, which is probably good.. I'm not exactly suave.
Eventually the building lady showed up and gave me keys to my place, at which point I realized that my cheap ass book had turned my hands BLACK.
It won't wash off, which boggles my mind.
So, if you are bored, you can come visit me on my couch. I'll be here until Tuesday. I'm not really that sad or anything, but it's safer for everybody.
Just climb in the window, because my door locks automatically.
8 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 03 Sep 2005 03:30:00 GMT
Well, I guess I'm not Bachelor Todd because of my luck with women.
Back when I met Gun Girl, I made her a promise that there would be no story about her if we didn't work out, so there won't be. I'm a man of my word. That being said, she's still somewhat around, although she royally screwed up my weekend.
Never really been dumped before because things went too well. (no.. it wasn't the mohawk ;))
There is a saying... "If It Flys, Floats, or Fucks Rent It". Someday I'll listen.
All the present turmoil aside... some girls like me. Indian chick was one of them.
Elan was a computer science major like me, and lived in the dorms with another foreign exchange student. She was from Malaysia, dark skinned Indian girl.
When we met, I was tutoring computer programming in the lab, and she'd come by and ask me questions all the time. Just like every college movie, women can't resist the computer science majors.... If I've locked one football player in a locker, I locked a thousand.
At the time I hung out with my buddy Scott (now with child), and a bunch of frat boys (Pi Lam's). I never joined the frat, but those boys could throw down and my friend Jen dated a large percentage of them (and luckily doesn't own a computer)... So it was fun.
Anyway... I was a lush, and Elan was a dancer....I was out with the frat boys one night at the Copper Coin when in walks Indian Chick. Who proceeded to drag me out on the dancefloor. It wasn't exactly ballet.
I feel like I need to elaborate here. I went to college in Edinboro Pennsylvania. I was dancing with about 1% of the entire non-white population at the time. Combined with the fact that I wasn't exactly hip, this drew the attention of the Pi Lam's. (oh yeah, btw.. Elan was smoking hot)
Elan took me home that night, leading me by the hand through the hoots and hollers of the frat boys.. at which point we retired to my very classy apartment made entirely of cinderblocks. It had no private bathroom. It was sort of like a gym with a community bathroom containing group showers etc(no joke)... In fact, it *used* to be a frat house, but was closed down for some reason. Screw off, it was cheap.
Since my family and a few people with class read this website, I will refrain from details.. but eventually Elan decided to go to the bathroom, and proceeded to just walk out of my apartment with no clothing on.
After contemplating locking the door, I bolted after her with a towel and fixed what would have been a problematic, if funny, situation had it not been 4am.
The next day was the homecoming parade. This involved drinking from around 8AM on from a keg at the frat house while the parade went by.... the parade, which of course, contained the international students. Elan turned around and blew me a kiss, much to the amusement of the frat boys, except for the dude who was puking at 9am.
We hung out a few more times until it became clear that she was a) in a serious relationship with someone at another college... and b) dangerously obsessive.
She was also cheating on all her computer classes with her other boyfriend doing her homework for her from ASU. (I noticed because her projects were always way better than the things she asked me about)
That's ok though. Even I cheated in a computer class once, although in a far more high-tech manner (submitted a project late by changing the timestamp on the mailserver)..
And she had better boobs than me, so she wins.
8 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Thu, 01 Sep 2005 03:06:00 GMT
It only took six months, but tonight my apartment is almost completely situated.
Being a lazy, lazy man, the initial move was somewhat less than thought out. In fact, a few things were just laying on the floor that must have fallen out of a box when I moved in. They certainly haven't been used since moving here.
At any rate, the apartment is now arranged in true bachelor style. The cat's litter box is under the kitchen table (I haven't sat at it once, other than to print something from the computer that is on top of it).... electronic equipment is stashed everywhere I could put it... and I built an "office" in the corner that lets me look at/listen to Croce's while I work. (Croce's is in the top picture, and my office is below)
The only problem with the "office" is that the window isn't a mirror on the outside, so people can see me looking at them/picking my nose/whatever. It's a good way to make friends though. I already met one girl in a very classy encounter. "Hey guy in the window.... I seeeee you!!! Hey drunk girl on the street! Nice tits!" Ok fine, I didn't say the last part.. because, I'm... classy (read: not that intoxicated...yet). Plus, I can't see far enough to know for sure.. she might have had flapjacks.
Another cool thing about re-arranging your apartment is that you can sweep places that you wouldn't normally. I did that tonight, and in the process my sweeper pretty much ate it. This is the third time in 6 months my apartment has smelled like "burning".
That's ok, now I have an excuse to buy a roomba (robot vacuum sweeper).
PS.... inventors... if you make that little bastard do laundry... you will win ALL the money.
On that note, I need to go fetch my cat off the window ledge, and go to bed.
Adios.
9 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Tue, 30 Aug 2005 14:46:00 GMT
In the business world, people are largely clueless. This is doubly so in the .com startup world.
You see, running a company both requires, and causes a huge ego. It's a leadership thing, projecting control and whatnot. It's the reason people say things like "Think outside the box", and "the net net of it". Used properly, these terms can be used to empower people to use their minds and feel like they have some ownership of things in their office.
unfortunately, most people misunderstand what these sayings mean.
Recently I met a man who had just raised a lot of money for his startup company. Convincing someone to give you a check for millions of dollars is impressive, and the guy was clearly impressed with himself. This either meant he was brilliant, or an asshole... possibly both. I was on the fence.
I was vaguely interviewing for a job at the startup. I wasn't really sure I wanted a new job and even less sure I wanted one at this company, but they designed software for cell phones (which is what I do) so I figured it was worth a shot.
Then the interviewish questions began. The guy had one of those aggressive interview styles where he attempts to make you defend your position on something. This works if you really know your subject matter well... less so if you only know philosophy. He was the latter.
He said I was clearly a good fit for a mobile company, but they weren't sure if they wanted someone technically inclined (me), or someone who, (not making this up) "Wasn't inhibited by an understanding of the details". You see, he had misinterpreted "thinking outside the box" with "not understanding the box".
He took it a step further, and put out a situation to discuss... how to make eBay work better on a mobile phone. I talked through the importance of a simple user interface... the ability to find what you want in 3-4 clicks.. and how you could possibly use a search combined with location tracking to return good results. He didn't seem impressed.
"See, do you think your knowledge of search engines hinders you from thinking beyond that? If I were thinking about it, and I wanted to find a car on eBay.. I'd want to take a picture of the car from my phone and use that to find one on eBay".
Clearly this guy was a huge thinker, and I couldn't resist pointing out a few problems with his concept. (such as that it was completely fucking infeasible)
I suggested that this was precisely why they needed someone with a technical understanding of mobile phones, because instead of spending 6 months investigating how to do that, instead he could just ask me. So he asked, and I pointed out...
"Image based search isn't even close to possible on today's high end PCs.. it's so immensely complex that even Google doesn't try it. We aren't going to do it in the next 5 years on a mobile phone with very limited memory, so we should find a better short term solution to the problem."
I'm not sure if this will help me get a job offer, or ensure that I don't... I'm thinking the latter.
Then again I don't really want to work for someone likely to send me out looking for space crystals for his time machine.
8 comments | 69 trackbacks
Posted by todd
Mon, 29 Aug 2005 16:29:00 GMT
Well I'm back.. thanks again for everyone who noticed and commented on my absense. I'm confident that if I ever keel over some random internet person will notice and hopefully have me checked up on before my cat eats me :)
If any of you are geeks and curious, apparently someone mistakenly set my DNS file to be unreadable, so the internet couldn't figure out where toddallen.org lived. Thanks to Brockman for figuring it out, because I was baffled.
Oh yeah, also, I got bored and shaved my head. I'm an ugly bald man.
These pictures were obviously taken *during*... I'll take some *after* pictures someday soon. Too bad I have a job that wouldn't appreciate a mohawk, I sort of liked it!
8 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Sat, 20 Aug 2005 23:45:00 GMT
I've been busy lately so I have a lack of current funny again. However, I just had a TV show give me a flashback to Edinboro University (where I went to college). Back in the day (ok fine, and now) I had a habit of giving my dates nicknames... Meet "Deaf Chick"
Back in the day, before my fonzi like skills were perfected, I was just a normal computer geek. This was pre-world-wide-web days, so the "internet" consisted of text based chat boards.
While the computer science majors had a legitimate reason to spend all day in the lab, it was largely (ba dum ching) dominated by fat girls. You see, the anonymity of a text only world allowed the fat girl to pretend she was hot. They took full advantage of this and often spent entire days giggling and wheezing as they tricked some poor guy into chatting with them all day long. (what they didn't know was that the guy was probably a 55 year old who hadn't left the server room in 10 years.. but hey, whatever floats your boat)
Anyway... this has nothing to do with the story.
When an actually attractive girl walked into the computer lab, she stood out. So when Heather walked in, she was easy to notice. Unlike the normal girls in the lab she had zero, count em ZERO potato chips stuck to her. She had to be mine.
Like any good guy would do, I sat down next to her and thought up a way to talk to her.
When you are in a place you are comfortable, it's easier to meet new people. This was my place, so I started talking to her. (honestly I forget what my opening line was.. old age etc...). To my shock, she didn't say *anything* back. She didn't even look up from her keyboard. Totally rude.
Now, I tend to mumble, so writing it off to that, I tried again. NOTHING.
So, in my most suave style, I poked her.
THAT got her attention. She was shocked. I think I asked if I could borrow her pen that time, but now the problem became apparent.
She had massive, huge, hearing aids. (you couldn't tell with her hair).
Not one to be shaken by such things, I got her phone number without flinching. In hindsight, this was another mistake.. It's hard for deaf chicks to talk on the phone.
Deaf Chick and I dated for about 2 months (the standard at the time), and while it didn't work out (she was the most boring person I'd ever met), it was a learning experience and she was a very sweet girl.
The first thing I learned was that she also had pretty bad vision. When we'd go to bed, she would take out her contacts and hearing aids, and it was basically impossible to talk to her. I'd joke that we "spoke the language of luuuuuvv". (She wasn't very good at..um...speaking, either.. and not due to her hearing problem)
The other thing I learned was that watching television with the subtitles on is awesome. Do you know how well you can multitask with no sound?
Not to mention that with a deaf girlfriend, if you get in a fight you can say rude things, and she'll never know!
Next up, Indian Chick.
Posted in Girlfriends | 13 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Wed, 17 Aug 2005 04:52:00 GMT
My buddy from highschool, and ex-college roommate Scott is now a father!
Their Blog And Baby PicsDamn dude, after all that crap we did in college I figured we were sterile.
Way to keep those Erie genes in the pool.
Congrats Andrea!
3 comments | no trackbacks
Posted by todd
Fri, 12 Aug 2005 17:40:00 GMT
Last night I fell through a wormhole or something, and wound up being the designated driver.
Actually, let me rephrase that. Last night I was the designated drunk driver (DDD).
It would have been difficult to convince, say, a police officer of the fact. Nevertheless I was the only person capable of driving anywhere. The night had gone tequila, and I was only drinking beer.
In a mark of wisdom, or at least old age, I saw what was coming so I bowed out of the "one round of shots before we go". "One and out" is a game everyone has played... You know the one where you are having one more drink and then going home like a good citizen, only to find yourself sleeping in a ditch several hours later? Good times... Good times.
One and out of course turned into two. Then we attempted to leave, and I drove the now inebriated co-worker to his house, while Gun girl rolled around in the back of my jeep giggling, you know... two shots of tequila style.
At this point it could have been ok. A woman with two shots in her is a good time waiting to happen, but the gods were not looking out for my interests and we wound up in his backyard with them "sampling" fancy tequila. Sampling needs more description.
An interesting thing happens when you drink with people who are connoisseurs of a certain alcohol... They tend to put the drink in a very small glass (which is secretly a shot glass, but much fancier), and then "sample" several different kinds. Of course, what this really means is that my girlfriend and co-worker each consumed about 5 shots of tequila in short order. Fancy or not, that's trouble.
The girl managed to maintain somewhat, opting to play in the sprinklers in her dress rather than taking it off, not that co-worker would have minded. Eventually a neighbor came out and told us to be quiet, which was my only chance to exit before the sun came up, so we left.
Now, unlike with 2 shots, a woman with more than 5 shots in her isn't really good for much. She's a happy drunk though so no biggie, we'll just go home and go to bed. Right?
2 miles after I get onto the highway (the 5, north).. The girl points out that I'm going south. I'm new in town, and have the navigational abilities of a football, so when she stood by her story amid questions, I decided I must have screwed up, and turned around.
In hindsight, taking directions from a plastered woman was a bad idea, even if she had lived in San Diego her entire life. So in about 2 seconds I realized I had been going the right way in the first place, and eventually made it to her house.
Drunk girl doesn't remember the ride home, or most likely the many fun things she suggested we do when we got home. I'll bet she remembers barfing in her bathroom though.
Wouldn't it be great if they packaged alcohol by how sick you want to be afterwards?
"I'd like a bottle of scotch please, mildly retarded size".
Posted in Girlfriends | Tags alcohol, chelsea, drinking, drunk girls, gun girl, tequila | 10 comments | no trackbacks
