My greatest fear

Hi, clean guy here. My great­est fear is that when I visit the bath­room for the sole pur­pose of wash­ing my hands — like if I’m about to eat or some­thing — that some­one may think that the short amount of time I spent in the bath­room means that I didn’t wash my hands.

I know — who cares what peo­ple think? And I would usu­ally agree. But not on this. This is im­por­tant.

I’ve tried wip­ing my hands on my shirt as I leave the bath­room, pan­tomim­ing a sort of oh man, my hands are just still so wet be­cause I just washed them! act. But then I worry that peo­ple may think that I think that wip­ing my hands on my shirt is an ac­cept­able sub­sti­tute for ac­tual wash­ing. Not cool.

I know — who cares what peo­ple think? And I would usu­ally agree. But not on this. This is im­por­tant.

So what do I do? Always walk out still hold­ing a pa­per towel? Leave the bath­room loudly go­ing “oh man, my hands are just still so wet be­cause I just washed them!” Should I al­ways com­ment on what lux­u­ri­ous hand soap they’ve got in this McDonald’s bath­room? “You’ve re­ally gotta try that stuff… I mean, ob­vi­ously I did.”

I know — who cares what peo­ple think? And I would usu­ally agree. But not on this. This is im­por­tant.

Or just wash my hands in slow-motion? I… I think I could do that.

Icky Thump

I once told this girl in a bar that I was sav­ing the White Stripes’ fi­nal al­bum, 2007’s Icky Thump, to lis­ten to at some point in the fu­ture just so I could have the plea­sure of lis­ten­ing to a new White Stripes al­bum when there were no new ones. This was a bunch of years ago, it was true, and she said she was im­pressed with my self-control.

Late last year I found my­self in the driver’s seat in Texas late at night with a long way to go. By then I had bought the al­bum and kept a copy stored up in the cloud, al­ways avail­able but never played and just kind of hang­ing out. I had avoided even merely read­ing re­views for al­most a decade, but these un­fa­mil­iar roads kinda seemed like the right time, and this night the right place to pull Icky Thump down from the sky and out through the rental car speak­ers.

You know, I’ve got this playlist for songs that are not nec­es­sar­ily great, but when I first heard them made me go “whoa—what world did this thing come from?” (The playlist is ac­tu­ally, lit­er­ally, ti­tled “What world…?”) Rammstein, Gorillaz, Eminem, Black Flag, Mindless Self Indulgence, and a few oth­ers, have a track apiece on the playlist. None of the songs have that ef­fect on me any­more, but every track was once mind-melting stuff.

Would adding an en­tire al­bum be vi­o­lat­ing the spirit of the playlist?

Can’t take much more of this

I was in the back­seat of a car maybe a month ago when the new X-Files (2016) came up. None of us had heard whether the se­ries was com­ing back for a per­ma­nent run or what. Someone looked it up on their phone and found it would only be six episodes.

“Oh, thank good­ness,” I sighed.

My re­sponse baf­fled the front-seat oc­cu­pants, one of whom asked what I had against the The X-Files. I ex­plained badly, as I of­ten do on the spot, how age has shown me that more isn’t al­ways bet­ter, and my al­ready loaded me­dia diet means I just don’t have time or en­ergy for that much new stuff.1 Fewer episodes equals bet­ter.

A lot of times I’d rather ap­peal­ing stuff just not ex­ist than have to ex­ert the willpower needed to not to care about it. Everett to­day is thank­ful Seinfeld quit early. Everett to­day was pissed when 99% Invisible went weekly. Everett sighed and stared out the win­dow at the news of Blade Runner 2. Everett is way too good at find­ing stuff he cares about, and re­ally bad at ig­nor­ing stuff that sounds like it might be cool.

Tom Chandler has this prob­lem with pod­casts. I, um, also have this prob­lem with pod­casts.

(P.S. If you’re David Lynch, make all the new Twin Peaks you want. I’ll ac­com­mo­date.)

  1. I wanted to add, but didn’t, that I al­ways thought Milennium was bet­ter than The X-Files, be­cause that would just con­fuse them and might make them think I re­ally did se­cretly hate The X-Files but wouldn’t own up to it. I’m get­ting bet­ter about stay­ing fo­cused while talk­ing, keep­ing the ex­tra­ne­ous de­tails I’m just dy­ing to share to my­self.

Is this going to be forever?

Let’s talk about me.

Super Smash Bros. Melee wasn’t re­leased at a very good time for me. I was in col­lege, away from home and most of my gam­ing friends. Also, it was re­leased for the Nintendo GameCube, which his­tory has shown us wasn’t a ter­ri­bly suc­cess­ful con­sole. In fact, I don’t think any of my clos­est friends back then owned a GameCube.

But be­cause I know peo­ple who know peo­ple, there was a hand­ful of op­por­tu­ni­ties to play Melee over the next few years.

I’d be at people’s houses and find mostly-young, mostly-male groups gath­ered around the TV trad­ing smash at­tacks be­tween sig­na­ture Nintendo char­ac­ters in the most won­der­fully whim­si­cal car­toon fight­ing game imag­in­able. Mortal Kombat this is not. Continue read­ing “Is this go­ing to be forever?”

Compromise and Nexus 5: a review

I know a thing or two about com­pro­mise — I bought a Nexus 5 a few months ago. It’s not the phone I want, but it’ll do. For now.

It’s been years since I bought some­thing that wasn’t the lat­est and great­est Nexus model, but this time I think it was the right call. Like other Android fans, I awaited the an­nounce­ment of the Nexus 6 with every bit as much ex­cite­ment as the en­tire world does when it’s new-iPhone-time. (Yes, this is a thing peo­ple ac­tu­ally do for Nexus de­vices.)

I found my­self ut­terly un­der­whelmed by Nexus 6. Price, size, bor­ing, etc. But I knew I needed a new phone, so I im­me­di­ately or­dered the fan-favorite Nexus 5.

Continue read­ing “Compromise and Nexus 5: a re­view”

Slick, sleek & slimy

I have fond mem­o­ries, though my cho­les­terol level does not, of eat­ing at D’Best Sandwich Shop in Boca Raton. It’s been a few years, but as I  re­cently munched on a Miami Cuban-style cheeses­teak1 my mind started wan­der­ing and I got to won­der­ing if D’Best still ex­isted. As I went look­ing for their web­site, I re­called a few of their re­gional twists on the cheeses­teak, like the New York style, a New Jersey style… not to men­tion their in­cred­i­ble non-steak ex­plo­sion of an en­tire Thanksgiving meal di­rectly onto a bun (D’Pilgrim).

D’Best still ex­ists, al­right… but I was truly un­pre­pared for what I found.

You see, back when I’d visit, D’Best-the-subshop was a place you’d leave coated with a thin layer of grill grease. Had to wait in line? You’re wash­ing your hair tonight. The place was by no means messy, but it had a cer­tain un­fin­ished qual­ity to it… def­i­nitely the kind of place where the food mat­ters more than the brand­ing. I’d de­scribe it as feel­ing some­how hon­est… com­pletely lack­ing in pre­tense. Kind of blue col­lar? Yeah, I guess.

Continue read­ing “Slick, sleek & slimy”

  1. For the cu­ri­ous: a sin­gle slab of steak topped with swiss cheese, mayo and potato sticks — a rather un­healthy twist on the ubiq­ui­tous pan con bis­tec, and also not a cheeses­teak.