No Habla Ingles

First off, a couple random things. Number 1, I realized that if I blog from my phone at work then technically I am getting paid to blog. Life long dream (that I've only actually had for like a month) finally realized. And second, I decided that instead of waiting for something interesting to happen and deprive you all of my blog until that happens (unlike Beth Cavender, I don't have amazing things like STD googlers waiting for me around every corner), that I would give you stories from the archive (aka my life prior to today) to keep you entertained. I assure you that all of these stories are true and exagerrated as little as possible. Here is the first of such stories.

When I was in high school, I was not the biggest fan of studying or doing my homework. Now that surely comes as a shock to all of you who know me as an extremely studious and hard working scholar today, however it is true. It isn't that I didn't like school, its that I felt as though many of my assignments were in fact a waste of time and that my life would be more productive playing NCAA football on the Xbox in my friends basement (Buske shoutout!). I still maintain that if I were to be hired as a football coach that I would be 100% capable because of the time I spent playing that game. Anyway, the point is I didn't like doing homework. The problem was, I couldn't just not do my homework otherwise I wouldn't get credit for the assignment and I would get in trouble with my parents. This was a lot more drama then I was looking for. So it became a little game of mine to try and get out of doing as much homework as possible while convincing my teacher to still give me credit for it. It is a rather challenging game, but lucky for me, I'm a rather clever fellow.

In my world geography class as a sophomore, we had to do these study guides every week over the section we were studying. I hated those things. They were long and time consuming and all around just pointless. Well I was sitting in class one day about a month into the semester when an idea came to me. After class I went up to my teacher and told him I had really been struggling to complete the weekly study guides. Knowing I was a bright kid, he asked me what I was talking about. I went on to explain to him that English was actually my second language and that for some reason the length and style of the readings were just overwhelming to me. I explained that I was very embarrassed about this and I had gone as far as to learn an American accent to cover up the fact that my native tongue was actually Hindi as learned from my father who was born and raised in India. I could tell that my teacher was having a hard time buying this, so I acted as though I was getting very upset and started mixing the three phrases of Hindi I know into my desperate pleas that he not tell anyone about my situation. I then apologized for my broken English, explaining I slip into it sometimes when I am rattled. I believe he thought I was about to cry when he finally told me that it was alright and that he wouldn't tell anyone and most importantly that I no longer would be required to complete the weekly study guides. Victory was mine.

I went the rest of the semester without doing a single study guide and received an A in the course. The teacher never spoke a word to me about what we talked about that day after class. Just for the record, the three phrases I know in Hindi are roughly translated, "You are a donkey" and "You are a dog" and "Your mother is a cow." I learned them when I was visiting my dad's family in India when I was six years old. The best part about the whole situation? There actually was a student who legitimately had English as their second language and when that student asked the teacher for the same treatment I had gotten, the teacher refused to believe him, and even chastised him because he thought the student was making fun of me. I would have felt bad for this kid but he knew English just fine and was just trying to get a free ride through class. Who does that?

No Shave November Update

Pictures from the 1/3 of the way point (taken yesterday)

The Breakup

One of the most distinct memories I have from high school occurred on some random day as my friend and I were walking to her truck in the parking lot after school to go hang out at my house. As we climbed into the vehicle, I noticed something spectacular happening right before my very eyes. In the row of cars directly in front of my friend's truck we witnessed a real life, soap opera style collapse of a love triangle. There was the guy who was old news, the girl, and the new guy. The whole thing was like a solar eclipse and car wreck all rolled into one and I simply could not take my eyes off of it. My friend quickly noticed the spectacle as well and neither of us even budged a we stared at the trio for several minutes. As the old guy shamefully begged the girl to take him back, the new guy stepped in between them with the girl eventually walking away emotionlessly. The old guy did not let up, now shouting at both the new guy and the girl, and my friend and I found ourselves rooting for him to break down into tears. As the new guy and the girl got in the car and drove off together, leaving the old guy standing in an empty parking space, our wishes were granted as he began weeping like a small child. My friend and I both cheered before quickly deciding to leave in case he saw us.

I stopped by Jimmy John's today to enjoy a quick Gargantuan before work. I got my pop and sandwich and sat down in a booth by myself, directly behind a guy and a girl. Since I was alone, I ended up partaking in some people watching with the guy and girl in front of me being the easiest targets. At first I could not really tell if these two were just friends having lunch, whether they were on a lunch date, or what exactly was going on. Their calm and quiet discussion fooled me for quite some time. Finally as they continued talking, I realized what this was. They were having Breakup Lunch. I tried not to make it too obvious that I was monitoring their situation, but make no mistake, I was fully tuned in. The girl, who was wearing scrubs so I assume she was a nurse or something similar, very calmly explained that she was not going to support him or drag him around with her anymore. From what I heard, it seemed as though this guy was some kind of jobless, lazy tool and in the girl's defense, he was taking her on a date to Jimmy John's so she probably wasn't terribly far off the mark. I have to give the girl credit, she was unbelievably calm and resolved through the entire encounter, almost shockingly so. She challenged everything I ever thought I knew about girls and their crazed, irrational, and emotionally charged ways (kidding ladies . . . kind of). She seemed so detached from the whole thing that I briefly wondered if they were breaking up because the guy found out that his girlfriend used to be a dude. The guy on the other hand was extremely defensive and kept rambling on and on about how she didn't respect him and how she never gave him any credit for anything. He appeared to have some sort of sense of entitlement that left me with the impression that he had to be a trust fund baby. I could not help but wonder though if the guy knew he was going to get dumped and that is the reason why he chose to have the date at Jimmy John's. Every guy knows what I'm talking about. Your girlfriend says we need to talk, let's go get something to eat. That is basically code for, I'm going to squeeze one last free dinner out of you before I break your heart. So kudos to this guy for sticking it to her by taking the cheap way out.

As the situation wound down, the girl claimed she had to get back to work (probably lying) and coolly got up and left by herself. The guy stayed only for a moment longer before also departing. The whole thing absolutely made my day. At the risk of sounding like a terrible person (and by that I mean, with the absolute certainty of sounding like a terrible person), public breakups are probably one of my favorite things to watch from a distance. You just know that they decided to do it in public to avoid a scene and usually they fail miserably. The best part about this breakup though was the completely lack of an explosion that I felt was certain to come. This girl let the guy go as if she were firing a secretary. Cold, calculated, and distant. She was basically the breakup version of a sniper. It was breathtaking and fantastic. If anyone who is reading this is planning on ending it with their significant other sometime in the near future, please, do it in public, for the sake of everyone who might be there to enjoy it. If you are two are going to be miserable, at least make everyone else happy.

No Shave November

I'm not exactly a big fan of the winter. The cold weather really just isn't my cup of tea. I mean look at me, clearly I was built for the tropics. Now with that being said, there are not a whole lot of things that make the transition into winter an enjoyable time for me. Of the limited number of items I like about this particular season, most of them are sports related, go figure. The college football season picking up steam. The Major League playoffs, except this year, stupid Yankees. The beginning of the college basketball season, especially the seemingly annual occurrence of a Division II team knocking off a national power in a meaningless exhibition which the D-2 guys will undoubtedly tell their grandchildren about like it was played at the end of March instead of the beginning of November. Thank you to the Le Moyne Dolphins for this year's edition. Aside from the holidays, which are obvious, there are only two non sports related events that make the shorter days and frigid temperatures bearable for me, the Snow Buffet, and No Shave November. Today's topic is the latter, so you will have to wait to learn more about the Snow Buffet and all of its glory.

No Shave November is a rather simple concept, you and your closest guy friends just do not shave for the entire month of November to see how much facial hair you can grow in that amount of time. When I put it like that, it sounds like a long, drawn out version of a pissing contest, but I'd like to think it is much more than that. To me, it is really more of a tribute to all bearded men everywhere, a visual shout out to lumberjacks, mountain men, and anyone else who wears flannel. It could be called the National Tribute to Bearded Men Month (like Black History Month for white guys), except that's quite a mouthful and No Shave November just has a nice ring to it. Not to mention that this is a real test of a man's resolve. As ridiculous as it sounds, not shaving for an entire month is a pretty trying ordeal, there is the constant itching until your beard gets long enough, the potential to look like a creeper if your face doesn't wear a beard well, and on a personal note, when I grow out my beard people think I am expressing my allegiance to Al Qaeda. In my most recent attempt at No Shave November two years ago, I caved and shaved just halfway through, it remains one of my deepest regrets. Not many people finish the race. It is basically the Iditarod of facial hair.

In order to appreciate the importance of this month, it is necessary to understand the significance of a beard that is allowed to grow without hindrance. There are many different types of beards and reasons for growing them. There is the "My Face is Ugly so I Grew a Beard to Cover it Up" beard, also known as the Abe Lincoln. This may be the most practical reason for growing a beard. There's the, "I Want to Be a Member of a Boy Band" chinstrap style beard, also known as the Joey Fatone (or for those that know him, the Justin Chitwood). There is the, "This Guy is Completely Unstable" beard, think the Unibomber. There is also the "Eff You" beard, which often occurs after difficult break ups, whether it be with a girl or with your employer. The Eff You beard is a constant reminder to whoever it is that you are directing it toward that they have no say in your appearance anymore and no matter how terrible, creepy, unprofessional, or ridiculous the beard looks, no one can do anything to stop you from growing it. Finally there is the "I'm a Man" beard. The "I'm a Man" beard is the kind worn by the kinds of men who are too busy being manly to bother with shaving. The most famous example of this beard is the NHL playoff beard. Now I am not a huge hockey fan, although I do find it entertaining, but it does two things it does better than any other sports. It's championship trophy (seriously the Stanley Cup is sweet looking) and the playoff beard. The "I'm a Man" beard is the purest and most honorable form of facial hair and it is this type of beard which I seek to honor in No Shave November.

You see, I have been blessed, or cursed depending on how you look at it, with the formidable ability to grow facial hair at ridiculously fast rates. However, the one time I used this skill to its full ability was in the process of growing an "Eff You" beard during my senior year in high school. Not to be overly dramatic or anything, but this would be like if Superman decided to use his powers to play professional football instead of saving the world. Would it absolutely be impressive to watch? Of course. Would it be the best use of his abilities? Not even close. This is what happened when I was 17. I was very upset about a girl breaking up with me, and proceeded to grow and "Eff You" beard for the next two and a half months, it was glorious in appearance but not in motive. I have no inherent opposition to the "Eff You" beard, in fact I feel it is a helpful and sometimes necessary coping mechanism. It just somehow seems tainted to have my only magnificent beard grown to spite someone else, rather than for my own personal enjoyment. So this November, I will be growing it out, in all of its hairy splendor, who knows if it goes really well I might even let it go into December too. I will almost certainly look like the Indian Kimbo Slice, what could be better?

There is also the distinct possibility that everything I have just written is complete gibberish and No Shave November is just a thing college guys do because they aren't married and don't have real jobs. It's hard to say, but I'd like to think it's more. Much, much more.