cape codpiece

do you ever wonder why more workplaces don't have a formal friday every once in awhile? because as nice as it is to see co-workers dressed up like the slobs that they probably are outside of the office - i think it would be a nice change of pace to put on a tophat and tales and sip martinis and chew on fine cheeseballs as you sit in your cube waiting for precious death to save you from your self-imposed doom - this thought ocurred to me whilst i was on vacation last week in the tiny hamlet of sandwich, ma - home of michael sweet, erstwhile lead singer of christian rock super group stryper -

after the legal fallout from the break-up of our cult there had been a bit of awkwardness betwixt us and i thought i quick trip to the holy coast (as mike refers to it) might be a good chance to kick back, relax, and allow mike and i the opportunity to iron out our differences...well, i don't know if any our differences were ironed out but we did iron out the wrinkles in our black and yellow spandex and jam for the lamb at the local y.m.c.a. - the crowd was small - not because we didn't totally rock it because you know we did - unfortunately our outfits had been in storage for such a long, long time we reeked of mothballs - our capes refused to roil or furl and the cod-pieces? well they reeked of warmed over cod.

and it was there on the holy coast as i stood in the glassy sea praying for a shark attack or a tidal wave, or even a really severe case of s.c.u.r.v.y. so that i wouldn't have to return to the dreaded office...and then suddenly as if by magic i began to formulate a plan in my mind for the implementation of formal friday which at the time seemed like such a brilliant idea i couldn't wait to get back to the office - in fact i threw away the cyanide capsules that i'd packed just in case the reunion didn't go so well and headed home several days ahead of schedule...only to find out that formal friday had been tried before - only it wasn't called formal friday - was called on golden prom - and it was called on golden prom because the senior partners would ask the junior partners to a raging cocktail party that took place on the promenade - and even though it was pitched as this gloriously classy event - many woke up days later with that icky horrified feeling that they may have made out with their b.o.s.s. - which wouldn't be such a bad thing if your b.o.s.s. didn't have a penchant for intitiating a little flex time with various & sundry t.e.m.ps. - which for those of you not in the corporate know is akin to leprosy or some other impossibly disgusting malady....

anyway, it was at one of these proms that a senior partner in an instance of ill-advised, overly inebriated pillow talk let slip that maybe - just maybe the company was thinking of exploring outsourcing options - of course over the next several days rumours spread around the office like wildfire (if by wildfire you mean the cyph) and lines were drawn and factions formed - and then there was a minor civil war between those that preferred the electric stapler to the standard manual stapler - the standard staplers eventually won out - not because the electric staplers weren't more powerful, or efficient, or even lethal - because you know they totally were...but unfortunately fourteen days into the campaign, the power went out for an hour and a half leaving the electric soldiers to flail away impotently with rubber bands and paper clips -

at any rate - after the dust settled and the wounded were tended to with peroxide and cotton swabs the company made the official announcement that the great outsourcing myth had been just that - no one would be losing their jobs...which was true, but then two weeks letter word came down that the company had decided it might be a good idea to outsource our lunch breaks - because hey, it would cost them a lot less money to pay some poor soul in a third world country for that hour - plus they'd get a nice tax break and that heart warming good samaritan feeling you can only get from buying lunch for the impoverished or watching extreme makeover - the rest of us were forced to sit at our desks for that hour (which we were no longer paid for) sharpening our resolve and our staple removers as we sustained ourselves on the briscuit and beef jerkey that were sold in the break room vending machines - and then one day they to were packed up in shipping crates and outsourced to the less fortunate....and that my friends is why formal friday will never be celebrated in our office especially if there is any alcohol involved - because the results are not always so sexy.

that sexy guitar - they play it on the high strings

sometimes i long for the soft soothing sounds of the sexy saxophone as i canter about some trendy bistro with one of the various women i meet in my weekly semaphore class down at the community college - and if you are now doubled over laughing because i have openly announced that i attend classes at a community college i should re-emphasize that i meet scads of eligible women in the aforementioned semaphore class - which, hopefully raises a few red flags for some of you...but back to the sexy saxophone which i often refer to as the sexophone - when you happen to be seated on a softly lit patio with a bottle of wine whilst a stockinged foot caresses your well-toned calf - you begin to feel like rob lowe in that movie that practically invented the sexophone - st. elmo's fire...

and now i should take a moment to point out that both of my calves happen to be highly toned and completely lethal - a fact i feel i must mention not only because i firmly believe that my calves are my b.e.s.t. feature - but also because my calves are highly competitive and can often be found engaged in epic flex-offs pitted against one another like bitter rivals...my psychiatrist tells me that calves have no ego and suggests i stop sleeping in the legwarmers already and my doctor dismisses it as mere cramping but friends, i'm here to tell you, my calves are trying to kill each other - if anything ever happens to either one (even though i secretly expect it will end in a murder/suicide) remember what i have said here today and tell the world the truth!

but getting back to rob lowe - when he plays the sexy soul soaring theme song to st. elmo's fire (the instrumental - not the version with words which is so, so lame) no one can resist - not even the sad suicidal demi moore who just can't help but pick herself up off of those harshly polished hardwood floors and decide that yes, life is worth living after all - unless of course you happen to be judd nelson and one of your nostrils is dispraportionately larger than the other one - but cheer up, because once the music takes control you're not ashley judd, nor are you judd nelson, heck, you're not even one half of the identical twin supergroup nelson (matthew or gunnar - take your pick...it doesn't matter because you're still not one of them) because you're rob lowe...

at least you're rob lowe until he hooks up with the homely girl - you know the one, with the chalky white skin...you know the one...i can't for the life of me remember the three named actress who played her - but the good folks at imdb would be more than happy to satiate your curiosity...because homely girls don't attend semaphore class - you can find them down the hall in creative writing because they just can't seem to grasp the nuances of non-v.e.r.b.a.l. communication.

i have noticed recently that many film and television soundtracks have begun using the guitar quite a bit to score a particularly emotive scene - a trend i like to refer to as that sexy guitar - they play it on the high strings - which okay, i guess it's nice and tastefully bland but it just lacks the cadence, the throaty timbre of the sexophone - so instead of kissing passionately oft times you end up sitting on the hood of your car down at the quarry trading air guitar solos with the woman who might have been the love of your life if only your life didn't have a soundtrack that absolutely sucked - that's why i now carry matching ipods filled to capacity with sexy sax sounds and i'm not talking about safe sax either - because we aren't trying to recreate the mood of a doctor's waiting room here - no, no dear friends what we are after are the sexy results. what? you think that should read saxy results? no. no it shouldn't - that's just dumb. and also you might think that matching ipods might interfere with the chemistry that can only come about through conversation - but seriously how many dates have you been on where an interesting conversation took place? me either.

and also, if you're like me and you happen to exclusively date women from your local community college semaphore class you don't have to speak - just let the sax do all your talking for you - well, the sax and you're handy coloured flags of silent communication - just make sure you read the signals properly - because those flag sticks tend to be sharp.

s.a.r.s & stryper

i'm a little bit worried that i don't do enough in my life to prevent another outbreak of s.a.r.s. sure i make a boiling hot shower a big party of my daily routine and i'm often known to wash my hands for no good reason - but still...wasn't it just a few short years ago that s.a.r.s. threatened to wipe out the continent of asia?

and now i'm wondering if asia is a continent...if it's not it certainly should be...at least this was the premise of the cult that i once belonged to known simply as the continental dividers. which, yes, the name in and of itself can be a bit misleading because we really didn't want any part of dividing any continents - in fact the one thing that we all had in common - the very thing that drew us to one another in the first place (aside from the public nudity ritual of certain surprise of course) was an intense hatred for long division.

also the cult was founded by several members of the formerly great christian heavy metal band stryper who were much more cold, calculating, and money hungry than your average christian rock outfit (with the possible exception of c.a.r.m.a.n.) - in fact it's come out only recently that the only reason they started this cult is because they had the hair brained idea that if there were at least 5 more continents they could stay on tour forever - and also, one of the guys was originally from lincoln, nebraska and he secretly confided in me that it was his dream to create land masses in hopes that someday by a group vote of 3 to 2 stryper would agree to change their name to the lincoln continentals and who knows what that would do for t-shirt sales & headband sales...i kept trying to tell them that no one really sports the headband anymore - but i was shouted down and nearly excommunicated so i simply gave up -

and also, the lincoln nebraska guy died from a case of the as yet undocumented s.a.rs. all because he refused to wear the biohazard suit - i say undocumented s.a.r.s. because this was like 1987 if memory serves and s.a.r.s had not yet been discovered - all we knew was that a plague had stricken our tight nit community and was threatening to wipe us out - our critics asserted that this was some sort of divine judgment for our love of the rock 'n roll & our cultish ways. we, of course naturally assumed it was a result of our fast track lifestyle and exposure to explosive compounds - so we decided to take some safety precautions with the biohazard suits (in nifty yellow & black of course) but dude decided there was no way in holy heaven he was wearing one because it wasn't form fitting enough - and he also thought he could ward of germs by wearing a snorkel instead of a sterile surgeons mask - he was a wierd guy. of course his untimely passing led to my short term gig as the bass player for the world's greatest christian heavy metal band - but i was ousted when i attempted to fulfill our departed comrades wishes by casting a vote for the band name change.

so after this unpleasantness we set about our goal of adding 5 more continents - because in case you hadn't noticed the continental shelf has been barren for several centuries. and i think that maybe the malaise that plagues so many young self-starters like myself is due in large part to the fact that there are no new territories worthy of exploring. of course if we'd only been a bit more intuitive we could have discovered s.a.r.s. or the internet or yogurt in a squeezable tube - but we weren't that intuitive. so we at the continental dividers undertook the task of developing new frontiers which we attemtped to do by draining several large lakes and setting dynamite charges in an effort to separate chunks of existing land masses thus creating new continents. we also added a second tier to antarctica which looked totally rad because instead of being remote and icy it was all tropical with oily natives drinking coronas by the sea - but then the folks at osha got involved and because they lacked vision and we lacked backbone (we were a rock 'n roll cult - what more do you expect) the project never really got off the ground. okay that's not true because we totally built it, but then we had to tear the whole thing down...but i still have some of the fake patio grass in may garage to catch any unsightly oil spills.

well, long story short apparently all the blasting and the draining that i just mentioned happen to be highly illegal and had i not turned states evidence against my fellow dividers i'd probably be sitting in a white collar prison somewhere enjoying the best that satellite television has to offer - (like stryper live from costa rica for example) while exploring various & sundry escape routes which no doubt would have led to great adventures (in babysitting) instead i chose to sell my soul for the freedom of a 37.5 hour work week - my parents warned me that stupid cult would brainwash me.

the fear of nudity

there are probably one million reasons why i will never marry - fear of commitment, social anxiety, night blindness, fear of nudity - but one of the primary reasons the prospect frightens me so impossibly is the whole drama of the ring (not to be confused with the pop culture phenom film of the same name) thing...first, selfishly i'll admit that i've never owned a ring in my entire life unless of course you count those plastic rings with the giant candied gem on them or the unfortunate ringworm incident back in the eighth grade which i still don't like talking about...i think the primary reason for this is could be that my stumpy useless hands that have always served me so well when it comes to retrieving lost objects from behind or beneath household appliances, look rather foolish when adorned with rings...and having never been a ring wearer (or even a ring bearer for that matter - even though i do have an adorable cowlick and cherubic cheeks that would elicit gasps and sighs as i walked down the aisle with the fluffy pillow of promise and destiny - still i'm not bitter) i don't know that i would be qualified to pick out the perfect ring for the l.o.v.e. of my l.i.f.e. - seriously. for me picking out a three ring binder is an all day affair.

and how exactly does that whole ring shopping thing work anyway? because i have always been under the impression that popping the question was supposed to be some big event fraught with deep knee bending leading to sky writing followed almost immediately by gymnastics of the heart - but then you talk to friends who are (mating while) dating and they will tell you unabashedly that they are ring shopping which sort of makes the whole dramatic proposal event moot don't you think? i know rick springfield certainly does.

and rick springfield would know - because from what i hear he finally consummated his long awaited love affair with jessie's girl - and you might think that jessie would have been pissed. and he was. at first. but then he realized that rick and jessie's girl really were the better match so instead of losing a friend and a lover he decided to just cut his losses, swallow his pride and be the supportive friend. and it really is great you know? like a real life dawson's creek finale equal parts e.f.f.e.t.e. and e.d.g.e. i ran into the the three of them down at the food court last weekend sharing an orange julius (three people one straw - metaphor for the tie that binds or fasttrack to mono - you be the judge [reinhold]) and they were laughing and having a grand old time because apparently they had spent the morning ring shopping at zayles (the galleria of jewelry) have mercy indeed!

and that i guess, is when i realized that ring shopping is probably a good idea - because yes it does sort of spoil the mystery and the intrigue - but then again you'll be waking up to the same person for the rest of your life so it's a nice bit of foreshadowing for how all of the mystery and intrigue are about to be sucked out of your life. forever. and also, ring shopping gauruntees that you don't end up dropping some hideous piece of whatnot on the woman that would have been more than happy to fill the role of your future wife until she saw the hideous ring - which, yes i know that it may have been your great grandmothers but dude....it's still hideous -

no self respecting woman wants to be seen walking around with that much filigree on her fair knuckle...if she really wanted something that bulky she would have worn your class ring on her chubby toe thumb instead of on a chain around her neck...i'm just saying. if you insist on forcing that thing on her you might find yourself with a garage full of invitations that will serve as a lifelong reminder of what a cheap bastard you were - because seriously...if you wanted a woman to wear your great grandmothers ring - maybe you should have married your great grandmother.

some other dave entirely

there are things in this world that i simply do not understand - for example why do people in airports feel compelled to scroll through the address list in their cell phones calling each and every contact listed simply to say so...yeah, i'm at the airport - is there some law that states that you are not allowed to simply sit quietly with a book, a muffin, and a juice box? this makes absolutely no sense to me...

of course it also makes no sense to me that dave matthews continues to sell his own crappy brand of not rawk to the adult contemporary crowd but he does and those poor yuppie bastards eat it right up and attempt to recreate his funky not rawk sound on the ovation they purchased at the local music megacenter - but of course they can't because dave is guitar genius - (if by guitar genius you mean a guy who bothered to learn a few suspended chords in alternate tunings and appreciates the (tift) merits of a chubby drummer) - a guitar genius who opened wide the door of our hearts to allow that damn john mayer to seep in, but a genius nonetheless

although you'll never get me to admit that dave is a genius unless we're talking about some other dave entirely: letterman, barry, lee roth, hasselhoff, soul, coulier, koz - this list is not meant to be all inclusive it's just a brief overview of the many famous daves that walk this planet with more genius genes than that moderne day sting clone dave matthews - and you know what? i'd bet one million damn dollars that dave matthews talks on a cell phone while he sits around airports - that is when he's not walking around with a soft salted pretzel asking all the ladies to hike up their skirts a little more and whatnot as his face shimmers from the airport beer glaze - crash into me? ....is that kind of talk really appropriate for an airport dave? seriously.

cigarrettes and carrot juice/ get yourself a new tatoo/ for those sleeveless days of june