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.