The Trifecta

Several minutes ago, I displayed a complete mastery of my bodily functions by peeing, tooting, and blowing my nose all at the same time. I know it doesn't sound all that impressive, but try it, its a tricky act to pull off. Here's to multi-tasking.

Under-rated

I realize that underrated, like overrated is not traditionally spelled with a hyphen, however I was going for the chanted version, you know like when a rather highly regarded team is beaten but a significantly lesser team in some sort of sporting event, the fans of the lesser team will often chant, "over-rated!" to mock the team that lost. Which I never really got that, because if you beat someone, doesn't it look better for you if they're really good? Why would you want people to think they're overrated right after you beat them? If it weren't so wordy, I'd probably chant something like "You are every bit as good as people say you are, but it turns out we are just that much better than you!" or something to that effect. Anyway, that's not the point of this post, rather the point is to mention a few of my very favorite things which are extremely underrated by our culture and society as a whole.

1. "Can't Hardly Wait" - This classic comedy with romantic overtones set as a group of seniors graduates high school not only contains Jennifer Love Hewitt in her prime, but also some pretty memorable quotes and even a solid soundtrack. It has the 90's written all over it. But most importantly, it has the guy who plays The Bass Player in "That Thing You Do." . . . Speaking of which . . .

2. "That Thing You Do" - A romantic comedy about a band called The Wonders who have one smash hit before everything comes crashing down, this film is rather hilarious. One of Tom Hanks first ventures into directing did not do well in theaters but developed a cult like following. Anyone who has ever seen this movie loves it. You cannot prove to me otherwise. If you say you can you're a liar. Just kidding . . . but seriously.

3. R.E.M. - I don't know exact song titles, because I, like everyone else, severely under-appreciate the greatness of R.E.M., but a few of my faves are "Losing My Religion," "It's the End of the World," "I am Superman," and "Stand in the Place Where You Live." I just don't understand when discussions about the great rock bands of the 80's and 90's how this group is forgotten. Also their front man Michael Stipe does a great song with Coldplay's Chris Martin called "In the Sun," check it out.

4. Elementary School Pizza - You know the stuff I'm talking about, the rectangle pizza with the cheese too white to be real cheese, but man was it delicious. I think elementary school cafeteria food got a bad wrap in general, but maybe that's just me.

I think that's all for now, I'm sure there are a lot more things, but I noticed people basically only read my posts if they're under a certain length, so I'm trying to bend a little toward my fan base.

Buffalo Wild Wings

I was at Buffalo Wild Wings this afternoon with my buddy watching some football before he went back home to Illinois. If you've ever been out to eat with me, you know that I go through my glasses of pop rather quickly and then about halfway through the meal they all hit me and I end up peeing about every 14 minutes until we leave. Well today was no different. As my first trip to the bathroom was coming to its conclusion, I was about to throw away the paper towels I used to dry my hands and noticed that the trash can was labeled 'Patio.' I looked at it for a minute and I'm still trying to figure out if someone just misplaced the trash can, or if I actually peed outside.

Feedback

I find it amusing (also read, disturbing) that I got twice as many comments on a blog about a prophetic ear wax dream than I did on a blog in which I ask for help in finding direction in my life. Apparently giant ear wax resonates more with people than life choices.

A Letter to My Ankles

Dear Ankles,

I would like to clear the elephant in the room. For some time now we have had what could be called at best a love/hate relationship. I try to love and take care of you, I buy you nice expensive braces, I ice you when needed. I've given you countless hours with a personal trainer (also known as a physical therapist). I try not to walk on un-even ground to try and avoid rolling you unintentionally. I work out my calves so you have something nice to look at. I wear Jordan Brand shoes so you are always surrounded by greatness and style. I've even given one of you an extreme makeover (aka surgery). Yet all you do is return my love with hate. I give and I give and I give, and you roll and you roll and you roll.

Sometimes I try to have conversations with you, you know give you a little pep talk. I tell you, I'm not going to ask much from you. I'm not going to try and make ridiculous cuts or plant hard on you, I just want to run, jump and occasionally shuffle without any problems. And if you could talk back to me, I'm pretty confident your response would sound something like, "Hahahahaha, don't you wish! We'll give out on you whenever we please!" And I've got to give it to you, you are joints of your word.

So after a third injury in the last month, I've given up my attempts to plead and reason with you. I'm giving you a break. No more jumping, no more coming down on other peoples feet, no more planting to get in front of my man on defense. You can officially take a leave of absence. Maybe in a couple months you will decide to come back to work for me. Until then, enjoy your vacation.

Sincerely,
The Rest of Your Body (aka Ravi)

What Should I Do?

So I'm in my fourth year of college, and I'll be graduating next year with a degree in Marketplace Ministry. I have no idea what this means. Having no idea what your degree is really in is a pretty good indication that you have no idea what you want to do in life. After several years of trying to figure it out on my own, I've decided to get some outside help. That's where you would come in. Family, friends, strangers, loved ones, random blog stalkers, however well you know me, or don't know me at all, tell me what you think I should do with my life. I'm serious about this, I have no idea, so throw me a bone here.

Love Bug

So I was driving in my jeep the other day, and I heard a song on the radio that I had never heard before. It was pretty catchy. It had a nice raw feeling to it and then built up to a genuine rock out type of groove. I was enjoying it. As the song wrapped up the DJ came on and announced that the song was "Love Bug" by the Jonas Brothers . . . And for the first time in my life I considered briefly steering myself into oncoming traffic. I had, without my own knowledge, and completely by accident, listened to and liked a Jonas Brothers song, in its entirety. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do.

This happened about a week ago, and to this point my plan of action was one of secrecy and if necessary denial. But I found myself leaving this song on the radio the next few times it came on. I found myself bobbing my head, tapping my toe, and for the love of everything good and holy I think I may have even sung along for a few bars. It became clear to me that I have a problem. Is there some sort of support group for this? Can I get a hold of one of those memory eraser things from Men in Black? Anyone who has any answers, please advice.

Halfway Home

We are at the halfway point of my intensive class. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it or not, its hard to say. Anyway, I just thought I'd share the highlight of my week so far, and while you would probably imagine it was when my professor uttered the phrase ''plunder his booty,'' you would be wrong. It appears there is some sort of double standard going on in my class. On Monday, myself and another student in class removed the shirt of the student sitting between us and threw it to the back of the room. In all fairness, we sit in the back, but he still had to get up shirtless and re-clothe himself. The professor witnessed this and said nothing. The next day, a student appeared to be playing games on his computer and was called out in front of everyone.

Maybe its because people know how to react to someone abusing the privilege of internet in class and they aren't quite sure how to respond to a topless male student in class. I bet dealing with that isn't something they cover in grad school.

Intensive Class

I'm taking an intensive class as NCC this week, which basically means you take an entire 3 credit hour class and complete it in a week, going to class from 8-5 everyday. It's quite difficult to stay focused for that long but the promise of amusing phrases which can be taking the wrong way keeps me going strong. Just a minute ago my professor just uttered the phrase "plundered his booty" when referring to an ancient ruler. I giggled . . . out loud . . . I'm in college.

Its Spelled With a K

What you are about to read has only been told to a very select few people who I believed would be able to still look at me as if I was sane after having heard this. It has become clear to me that I probably am crazy so I might as well tell everyone.

A few months ago I had a dream about an amazing girl. This dream was completely pure and innocent in nature. It took me through several dates with this girl where we went to dinner, interacted with each other, and just in general enjoyed each other's company. She was beautiful and funny and intelligent, and quite literally the girl of my dreams. Her name was Nikole, very specifically spelled with a "k". When I woke up I realized that I did not actually know this girl in real life which was, as you can imagine, very disappointing to me. The next day after telling my best friend about this dream, I decided to try something a little strange. I entered the name "Nikole" and searched all of facebook for this girl I'd only met in my subconcious. Unfortunately I was unsuccessful in finding a girl who matched the name and face of the girl from my dream.

I had pretty much let the situation go when about a month later I was a groomsmen in a wedding, and while at the reception I saw a girl who looked eerily familiar, but I had no idea from where. She was beautiful, so I introduced myself and she said, "Hi, my name is Nicole," and that's when it hit me. She was the girl from my dream. This girl who I believed my imagination had just created out of thin air was standing right in front of me. I was completely blown away. I didn't know what to do. The rest of the reception continued with little of note occurring, but the next day I told my best friend that I met the girl from my dream. I had found out that it was not spelled with a "k" but her name was Nicole and they looked just like each other, so I figured it had to be her.

This is where everything got a little weird, as if it wasn't already. A little while after the wedding reception, I had another dream with Nikole in it, but this one was not joyful at all. Nikole was basically yelling at me the entire time, chewing me out for thinking that Nicole from the wedding was her. "Its spelled with a 'k' you idiot!" She screamed. She was rather unhappy that I had overlooked this rather important quality about her name just because I met a girl who looked like her and almost had the same name. I have no idea what this all means but I just thought it was interesting. You may now continue your lives normally.

The Number For

It has been brought to my attention that I have trouble spelling out the following digit "4" in my blogs. I apparently have a tendency to forget the all important "u" which, aside from context, is the only distinguishing factor between the number and the three lettered conjuction. I would like to point out that I just spelled out "3" with no trouble at all, so the issues with "4" appear to be an isolated incident and not a sign of a much large numerical spelling disorder. I would like to apologize to all of my meticulous readers who no doubt have been deeply disturbed by this discrepancy, and perhaps even though that I was trying to convey some sort of hidden message in my blogs but purposely misspelling the number "4." I assure you that I am seeking treatment to remedy this issue and hope that it will not deter you from reading future blogs. Also I hope it is my unbelievably cleverness such as that displayed in this blogs title, and not my grammatical prowess which keeps you coming back for more. Thank you for your support in this difficult time.

Yellow Car

Sometime last spring my friends and I started playing this game called "Yellow Car." This is a very simple game. Basically while you are on the road, anytime you see a yellow car, you announce it to whoever you are with. Whoever sees the most yellow cars wins. There is a twist however. If you see a yellow hummer and announce it, you win the game, end of story. Not a real brilliant game but it can be fun, especially on long road trips.

I had a dream the other night about this game. I don't remember the specific details but I was with my siblings, who began playing the game with me while we were in California for my brother's wedding. As we were driving along in my dream, I spotted for yellow hummers parked next to each other. I quickly yelled "Yellow hummer! Yellow hummer! Yellow hummer! Yellow hummer!" as to ensure I was credited with all for vehicles. Before I knew it I had been crowned by some outside force as the all-time worldwide winner of the game "Yellow Car." And that was the end of my dream.

These are the things that happen in my head.

Conspiracy Theory

So I was thinking the other day, there aren't enough good conspiracy theories going around. Now there are plenty of conspiracy theories, but most of them suck and don't make any sense. For example, there is a rumor that Heath Ledger isn't really dead, and that his death was faked to spike the hype surrounding the Dark Knight, and that he will make a miraculous return as the Joker in the next film. As much as I would love this to be true, it's stupid and doesn't make sense, thus it is not a good conspiracy theory.

I however have an amazing conspriacy theory. The New England Patriots were mandated by Roger Godell, commissioner of the NFL, to throw the Super Bowl, thus ruining their perfect season. Now you are going to have the knee-jerk reaction that I'm a bitter Pats fan, that is incorrect. I do love the Red Sox, but I'm not Bill Simmons and I have been able to think logically about football since the Patriots Super Bowl loss.

Anyway onto the finer points of my theory. First of all, if watching SportsCenter has taught me anything, its that Spygate was a really big deal. But does anyone feel like the Patriots were really punished as if it was a really big deal? Their coach who makes millions a year got fined several hundred thousand dollars, whoopty. Secondly, they lost their first round draft pick, which would have been the last pick of the round, however they had a pick in the first round anyway due to a trade they had completed. So the removing of the first round pick lost a lot of its sting. So other than some bad publicity and most of the free world outside of New England now hating them, the Patriots got off pretty easy.

With that in mind, let's review what we know about the NFL commisioner, Roger Godell. He does not take it easy on people. Pacman Jones? Banned for an entire season without a real conviction if I remember correctly. Tank Johnson? Banned for games for possessing guns. How many guys in the NFL have guns that are not registered to them? Sounds like a message being sent. Chris Henry? I don't even remember what he's done, I'm pretty sure it has to do with smoking a lot of dope, but either way, he's been suspended a lot by the Commish. Godell obviously doesn't play around.

So we have pretty solid evidence that the NFL's only real dynasty right now has been cheating, and we have a commisioner who likes to bring down the thunder on anyone who makes his league look bad, and you think this all went away for a few bucks and a meaningless draft pick? I doubt this very highly.

This is what happened, if Godell has to go back and strip a Super Bowl title from someone, the entire integrity of his league is compromised, so he wasn't about to do that, but Godell, along with anyone who knew anything about football realized that the Patriots were not a team that was going to be beat. So Godell ordered them to lose. How do I know that the Patriots didn't lose on their own? It wasn't the fact that the most dominant team in football history lost, its how they lost. For the first time ever, they looked unprepared. When has a Patriots team coached by Bill Belichick ever looked unprepared? If you are looking for some game film then stop, the answer is never. You think before the game that would send him flying to immortality that Bill Belichick of all people showed up unprepared? And you think I'm crazy.

Here's the bottom line, the Patriots were ordered to lose the game or be stripped of their other three Super Bowls. Godell, knowing his audience, realized that people would feel much better if ''karma'' kept the Patriots from going undefeated than if they finished 19-0 and were stripped of their other championships. That's just how America works.

Think about it for a while . . . It makes sense.

The Older Girls Love Me

I was bench pressing during my workout and had taken the weight off the rack and lowered it to my chest, just the same as I always do, however when I went to push the weight back up, my wrist just kind of gave out. It felt very weak and there was a sharp shooting pain in it. Thankfully I had a spotter so I didn't die, but still it was concerning nonetheless. I was doing a decent amount of weight, but nothing that should have caused any of my joints to fail me. Anyway, I attempted to finish my workout but was rather limited and ended up having to cut things short.

A couple days later, after the pain in my wrist had not subsided at all, I went in to see an orthopedic doctor who specialized in hand and wrist injuries. When I got there I had to fill out some forms, describing the nature of my injury, how it occurred, that kind of thing. A while after I had returned the forms to the receptionist, an elderly nurse, probably about 70 years old, walked me back to an exam room. Once we got to the room she started flipping through my chart and asking me why I was there. I explained to her that I hurt myself lifting weights. She didn't seem overly interested in what I had to say, and asked me to remove my hoodie so that she could take my blood pressure.

As she went to place the blood pressure cuff on my arm, the woman who was old enough to be my grandma and had seemed thoroughly indifferent to my presence suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! I can tell you really do work out!" In that unmistakable startled old lady voice. Being extremely caught off guard, I just nervously laughed, and said "Yeah . . ." with my voice trailing off as I awkwardly came to the realization that I had just been hit on by a 70 year old woman.

I guess the bright side of this whole thing is that apparently there is at least one demographic of females who digs me, so at the very least, when I reach my golden years I'll be a p-i-m-p.

Ear Wax

I had a dream last night that a giant piece of ear wax fell out of my ear, and then when I woke up this morning . . . a giant piece of ear wax fell out of my ear. I'm not even kidding.

Back to School Special

I know I have been away for a while, and I apologize. School recently started back up for me (yesterday) and so that involved moving back into the dorms, getting my financial aid situation taken care of and all of that wonderful stuff.

Anyway, Monday I moved back in and found myself rather excited to do so. I figured out that I love college, at least the lifestyle part of it. Living with a few of your close friends, doing random, stupid things, and developing terribly unhealthy sleep patterns, what could be better right? The problem is, you can't live the college lifestyle, without actually having to endure the school part. If I could just live in the dorms and hang out with my friends and play basketball, I'd be thrilled to death. But this pesky little thing called class keeps popping up, and if thats not bad enough it comes along with its buddy homework to ruin the party.

Now I've only had three classes so far in my two days since school started, and I haven't had to do or turn in any home work yet, but I know its coming. I know its coming to ruin my late night hangouts and runs to Taco Bell. Is it too much to ask to be able to go to college without having to go to school?

The Olympics

I would just like to share with you a few reasons why I love the Olympics, and I can promise you most of them will not be deep, and touchy-feely like, "Oh I just love how for 2 weeks all the nations come together and stop fighting." I don't care about that crap, even if you don't fight for two weeks, everybody still hates everybody else, so really the whole peace during the Olympics thing is a facade at best. Anyway, moving on to the things I do care about . . .

The Olympics always give me hope that boxign could be big in America again. The Olympics have been the launching point for so many great fighters (Ali, Frazier, Foreman, Sugar Ray Leonard, just to name a few) that every time I see an Olympic boxing match, it gives me hope that it still has the power to launch a few more. Despite not particularly enjoying the Olympic style or scoring system for boxing, it is still one of my favorite things about the games . . .

I only get to watch water polo once every 4 years, so I take full advantage. Water polo is really quite a fascinating and entertaining sport. Basically its a bunch of guys treading water for an hour and trying to throw the past a goalie into a net while the other team is beating the crap out of them. And you don't even want to know the unmentionable things that the teams do to each other UNDER the water and out of sight of the referrees. All in all, very exciting stuff. I enjoy playing water polo in the shallow end of pools where you can run or walk the whole time instead of treading water, and its still incredibly exhausting, but its about the most fun you'll have in a pool . . .

Team USA basketball. Sure it may have lost some of its aura of invincibility over the last several years (or had it completely shattered), but I get the feeling when I watch this team that we are back. Kobe Bryant says a gold medal would mean more to him than his NBA championships, and I believe him. He never plays D like this against Golden State, I'll tell you that much. And no matter how much the rest of the world is allegedly "catching up," they still don't have a Kobe Bryant . . . Or a Lebron James, or a Dwayne Wade, or a Dwight Howard, do I have to keep going? USA all the way baby . . .

And probably the biggest reason I love the Olympics is because I get to watch sports nonstop for 2 weeks, and instead of being considered an obsessed and crazed sport fan who may or may not need therapy for his problem, I'm simply more patriotic than most.

Bits and Pieces

Just a few random thoughts floating around in my head . . .

After having seen The Dark Knight on opening night at midnight, my desire to see it again continues to grow exponentially. I'm basically at the point where I would go and see it by myself, it's just that good . . .

With the trade of Joe Rauch from the Nationals to the Diamondbacks, CC Sabathia and Prince Fielder of the Brewers become the heaviest teammates in Major League Baseball. The title did belong to Rauch along with former teammate Dmitri Young. Together the former Nationals teammates weighed in at almost 590 pounds, with the 6'11 Rauch making up 291 of that, and the 6'2 Young tipping the scales at 298. The new biggest duo combine to weigh 560 lbs, CC Sabathia measure 6'7 and 290 pounds and Prince Fielder a very robust 5'11, 270. I don't know why anyone would want to know this, but I did all of the research myself, so I am fairly certain about it's accuracy. I wonder if when the Brewers traded for Sabathia the Indians were required to provide compensation for an expanded post game food spread as part of the deal . . .

The Red Sox should probably consider not losing to the Royals, that would make me feel better about things . . .

If I were at least 6 feet tall I would definitely make a serious effort to train to compete in the Worlds Strongest Man competition. No I'm not kidding . . .

And last but not least, I'll give a special prize to anyone who can tell me where the name of my blog "echos in eternity" comes from . . .

Have a good day.

This Morning

I was sitting in church this morning and found myself wanting to stand up and scream at the top of my lungs on more than my occasion. It was actually painful for me to sit there and see what the church has become.

Since when does a prayer have to come included with mood lighting and theme music? Does that somehow make it more effective? Is God more likely to hear us if we create a dramatic scene before we talk to Him? Somehow I don't think so. It is frustrating to think that we know longer believe that an honest cry to God is simply not good enough. Or maybe its that the people who lead our churches don't believe that the love of God is enough to move their congregation, so they have to "create a mood." Maybe if we actually demonstrated the love of God in our lives we might realize that it is more powerful than any mood we could ever set.

What might be worse than this is the fact that I actually heard a preacher apologize for the fact that he was about to make a theological point in his sermon. I was at church, if he isn't making theological points, than what is he doing? Isn't it his job to make theological points on Sunday morning? What made me absolutely sick though was that after he apologized for bringing up theology in church was that he never actually made anything that resembled a theological point. I mean if you are going to apologize for something then you better bring it. You better just whack me over the head with a 2x4 with something profound and earth shattering.

I think I would like any apology for all of the sermons I've listened to that completely failed to make anything that even resembled a theological point. That's what we should be sorry for.

Chocolate Bear

If you take a quick glance over at my picture you may notice that I am not white. You may also notice that I do not exactly look black either. Yes, I said black. Not African-American, because you could be a white dutch guy from South Africa who came over to the U.S. and be more African-American than most black people.

But anyway, the point is, being neither black nor white, people often ask me what ethnicity I am, or where I'm from, or however they may decide to phrase it. And rather than just honestly telling them that my mother is from Illinois and my father is from so and so, I found several years ago that it is a fun little game to tell people something different everytime I get asked.

It started simple enough, saying that I was Mexican, or Latino, or Native American, and everyone I told believed me. So I started branching out a little bit, getting a little more exotic. I would tell people I was Phillipino, or Somoan, or one of my favorites Polynesian.

This spring I went to Trinidad where I found that I looked exactly like the local people. Naturally I just let people assume that I was a native son, which they did. Now one of my go to answers for my origin is that I'm Trinny (I'm not sure if its Trinny, or Trinnie, but I know that they use the shortened version because Trinidadian is quite the mouthful). It was kind of funny because as basically the only non-white member of a 50 person group, I gave everyone else instant credibility. If only they knew where I was really from.

To this day there are people I go to college with who I told during freshman year that I am Polynesian that still believe that to be true. And I suppose it could be, but you'll never know. As for my close friends though, they don't care where I'm from, they just take a line from Scrubs and call me their Chocolate Bear.

Facebook

I was driving the other day, I have no idea where I was going which is completely irrelevant now but not being able to remember is going to bother me a lot. For the sake of giving myself a false sense of peace, I'll say I was heading to Buske's house.

Anyway, a commercial came on over the radio for a new cell phone. The fact that I actually listened to the commercial is shocking in itself, because I'm usually pretty quick on the preset trigger, but regardless of the reason, I heard the ad. A cell phone commercial is usually nothing special, however the focus of this one seemed rather strange to me.

Pretty much the only feature of phone which was highlighted on the commercial was how quickly this phone could get you to your facebook page. That's right, no talk about affordable pricing, or incredible area of service, no dropped calls or unlimited text messaging. Apparently the only thing this phone company wanted you to know about its product was its ability to keep you in close proximity to your favorite social network.

The funny thing about all this though, was that I didn't even think it was a bad ad. I mean, the thing genuinely had my attention. Rather than scoffing, and saying, what has this world come to or blah blah blah, insert your preferred elitist rant here, I was wondering, how much is this wonderful new phone? Now that is a pretty significant accomplishment but whatever marketing company put this commercial together, because I'm not even 100% sure this phone can actually make phone calls and I want it.

I think I know why too. About a year and a half ago, I was flying home from Houston and was sitting next to a rather attractive girl who was about my age. We started talking and spent most of the flight laughing and enjoying each other's company. It was one of the best flights I've ever had in my life because of the company I was in. So naturally, when we landed, I wanted to keep in touch with this girl, but instead of asking her for her phone number, I turned as I grabbed my carry-on and said, "Hey, can I add you on facebook?" The best part was, she didn't even skip a beat, she just agreed eagerly before we went our seperate ways.

Now maybe this is more a commentary on me than it is society in general, but apparently to some people like myself, a phone that can get me to facebook is a lot more useful than a phone that can make phone calls. Who knew?

My Entourage

Recently a friend of mine eloped with her longtime boyfriend. She was already engaged so the wedding wasn't that big of a shock, and knowing her, the fact that she eloped was almost expected. However she was the latest in the growing line of my friends who are now married.

So it kind of got me to thinking, not about what girl I could or should married, don't worry I'm certainly not ready for that, but rather about who would be in my wedding party. As I started to think of the guys I would want to be my groomsmen, the names formed quite a formidable list. Obviously there was my brother and my two best friends from high school. But then there is my youth group leader who I now consider a mentor, my brother-in-law, my buddy I have known since we were toddlers and at least two of my college friends.

That would put me at a solid eight groomsmen, which is an absolutely absurd number. I started to think, although my wedding day is at a conservative estimate 3-plus years off, there is absolutely no way I could trim that group down at all. So what is a guy to do? Beat the system that's what. I've got two words for you; Wedding Entourage.

Here's how it works. After the parents and grandparents have been sat as they traditionally would be, my entourage and I start to roll down the aisle to a tune which lets everyone in the crowd know that, while I'm romantic and ready to start my new life, I'm still hood. At that point the appropriate number of my boys would head back and escort the bridesmaids to their assigned spots before my entire entourage clustered behind me as a metaphorical gesture of them having my back as I awaited the arrival of my bride at the front of the sanctuary.

And that my friends, is a little thing I like to call pure genius.

The 5 o'clock Shadow

I started shaving when I was 12 years old, and have basically hated doing it ever since then. It's time consuming, tedious and no matter how much practice I got, I could never seem to avoid cutting myself on a regular basis. Finally last year, I asked my family for an electric razor to minimize the annoyances of shaving. My brother granted my wish and got me one. My good ol' electric is the kind of razor which cleans your face up enough to get rid of any itching or discomfort which may be caused by facial hair, but it doesn't cut all the way to the skin like a traditional razor would, thus leaving me with a 5 o'clock shadow everytime I shave.

Now I never did mind sporting the scruff because I'm a 20 year old college guy, so looking a bit rugged works toward my overall goal of looking like I'm hardcore. However until recently, the 5 o'clock shadow of which I have become so fond, was never really the most popular look. I have no idea what has changed but all of a sudden, scruffy is apparently what most guys are going for. And how do I know this? It isn't my strangely vast knowledge of popculture or my embarrassing enjoyment of MTV's programming. It's girls. That's really how we as guys decide if things are popular or not right? It's whether or not girls like it. If girls like the way we dress, that's the cool way to dress. If girls like the way we dance, that's the cool way to dance. When I talk to a girl that I am interested in taking out sometime, I almost always ask what kind of facial hair they prefer on guys. The girl probably thinks I am asking so that I can prepare my face accordingly, depending on their answer, but really this question has the potential to be a deal breaker for them. I basically am going to show up to the date with my standard stubble no matter what their answer is, because aside from weddings, I don't show up baby faced anywhere. Luckily, the answer recently has always been, I like a guy with a 5 o'clock shadow.

So what does it all mean? Probably nothing important to tell you the truth. Girls change their minds about what they like more often than guys change their boxers. And even when a girl says she wants one thing, its usually a 50/50 shot at best that that's actually what she really wants. I don't mean to criticize the female population, I just have noticed their overall fickle nature lately. But for now at least, I've got the "in" look working for me. And I'll probably still have it when it goes out of style, and I'll still have it when it comes roaring back. Just a warning for the ladies out there though, I hope you like my stubble for a while because I am more likely to get rid of you than I am my 5 o'clock shadow . . . just kidding . . . but seriously.