Wow, two posts in one month... I must be on a roll. This one is more of a hypocritical observation turned rant. It’s OK when I do it, but I don’t want to have to watch you... Apparently this is a wide spread issue (Come on, go to the link, the Amazon review for a pair of underware are not NEARLY as funny as the ones for say... ‘How to Date White Women... A Guide for Asian Men’, Amazon removed the offensive {read: hilarious} reviews, but that doesn’t stop the Internets from recording their existence.)
But still, at what age exactly do men decide that it is perfectly acceptable to adjust their pants in public? Of course I’m not talking about in the parking lot behind a Ford Expedition or in the suddenly forresty part of central park. I mean, waiting for the subway, in the ticket line at the movies, at the deli, on college tours... Dad...
There are different maneuvers that can be accomplished to both relieve yourself and make some attempt to adjust ‘your self.’ Most men go for the ‘bunch and pull’ method but the brazen go for the gold and try to do the ‘No, Really, I’m scratching my stomach southward and... oh, what is this? My hand has managed to fall into my pants. QUICK, RETREAT!’ Of course we cannot forget the infamous public ATM adjustment. This one is a special one because the line of people behind you really have nothing else to focus on while they wait.
The ATM wait is an awkward amount of time, it’s not like you have time to get through a few pages of the fourteenth century french novella you keep in your rear pocket, unless you’re a speed reader….I know because I’ve tried this, and it’s just as dangerous as reading while you’re next in line at the post office. One of the people behind you will always find the free teller first and treat you like an asshole for personally slowing down their day and taking up their time. Rollins called it murder to the Nth degree. Not so if your doing it intentionally, it’s fun. I save those minutes I steal from peoples lives throughout the day and keep them in jars in the in the basement. It’s like a retirement fund. TIME is a function of the UNIVERSE, it is not relative to YOU. You are not running on different time than US. How about I loan you an hour, some time around the fall equinox; but I’m going to expect that hour back and maybe some interest.
Interest... I’m in line at the bank... So you have two choices – you can either catch up on the newest home mortgage rates for smiling diverse CitiBank families posted on the far wall (How nice, the Asians will be buying a home with their newly approved loan and the African-Americans got low interest debt consolidation account. Something tells me, despite the smiles, the Asian will be moving from the African-Americans neighborhood as soon as the ink is dry. The White guy who just got his mortgage approved is not going to like the Asians buying up all the property in his neighborhood...)
Now there are 3 currently occupied ATMs and what I like to call the dreamer’s approach, or imaginary gambling on which one of the three prize horses is going to finish first, thus allowing you valuable insight on where you will end up. Now, the realist’s/New Yorker’s approach. This gets even more involved when you are third in line and there are four, no five people at the available ATM’s and their all blind and one has mistaken the vestibule for a urinal…okay that’s a little harsh, you’re second in line ... and you have wet-naps. New Yorkers like to know this kind of thing ahead of time so they can plan their attack, which is entirely absurd and unnecessary. It’s not like it’s the first seat on the The Batman ride at Six Flags.
So now nobody’s blind, somehow only two of the five ATM’s are in service, at one of them there is a early 30 something couple that decided to go to the ATM together – and who knows how long they’re going to be there, are they both taking money out? Do they have the same account? Are they interested in finding more about Citibank’s new low home mortgage rates at 6:30 on a Friday night? Then you’ve got fifty year old man, your ace in the hole. It looks like he’s wrapping up, then he throws you for a loop, he starts to adjust his pants. And because you’re staring, you know it’s not just the TGI-Friday... TGI-Can do something about this wedgie that’s been at war with my buttocks all week. I’m talking about the full on unbuckling of the pants, a retuck of the dress shirt into the tapered khaki pants, front and back, the re-buckle, then the congratulatory two-step to ring in the new era.
Don’t get me wrong, I love this man, this man could easily be my father, I just have a few questions; how far along is he in the ATM maneuver when he decides it’s really time for a breather? Did he just put in his code, and now he’s waiting for the choice of languages to continue in? Does he already have the cash, and now he’s waiting for the receipt? Could he have touched his balls when he tucked in his dress shirt, and could his "personal au jus” have made it on to the screen covering numbers 4 and 8 when he punched in his code? One of those numbers is definitely one of mine, but I’m not telling…Does he feel comfortable adjusting his pants at the ATM because it vaguely resembles a Urinal?
They both are like the fast food drive-through of their respective fields. If you really wanted to do some real banking, you’d come during business hours and wait in the real line. In the big boys bathroom, you’d wait for a seat in a stall. If you want to forego the pleasantries of solid waste disposal, the urinal is just a shortcut. You really should go though, especially at work. Think of it this way, your getting paid to do it. Unless your in German porn, you won't get many opportunities to get paid to do it otherwise. And a urinal is barely toilet anyhow, it's basically a little section of wall with a lower lip (do impression). AND both the ATM and the urinal have those little dividers that make you feel like you are kind of in your own private voting booth, but just the front of you from your nipples to your upper thighs. Unless you happen to be in one of those 'buddy booths.'
My theory is that this whole pants adjustment thing starts in public bathrooms on major turnpikes – you know the ones connected to the Roy Rogers, TCBY, Cinabons, and there’s always that one weird craft store that sells pink and yellow nightgown length T-shirts of The Big Apple with the New York City Skyline in the background, except they are actually apples, in shiny glitter paint. This is where the pants adjustment is a regional league sport. Now I’m not saying this is a right and wrong place to do it, I just find it surprising that some men feel completely comfortable buckling and unbuckling in front of the sink/mirror area. Which is only worse if you happen to be washing your hands in front of those mirrors angled downward for children and little people (that's what they're called now... right?) – then you feel like you accidentally pulled up an amateur gay porn website because all you see is some old dude’s tighty-whiteys and unbuckled shuffling. Course, this is when the man catches you looking over after being startled by his little ‘unilateral motion’ and then grabs his 11 year old son Timbo by the mullet and stares you down as they hightail it outa there. “On the double, T.T.”
Just means your alone now to take care of yourself... But admit it. When your alone, especially in a public place, double especially for public spaces like ATMs; you adjust yourself thinking... Hey, somebody might be watching me right now. There is a hidden camera somewhere in a vent or in the ceiling. They want a show... And I'm going to give it to them.
Hi·a·tus -
A gap or interruption in space, time, or continuity; a break.
...
Pro·cras·ti·na·tion -
The act or habit of procrastinating, or putting off to a future time; delay; dilatoriness.
actually, the real problem is:
Dis·trac·tion -
A condition or state of mind in which the attention is diverted from an original focus or interest.
I have so much other shit I have to do that is taking up my time otherwise spent blogging. This in it of itself is a problem because being that I’m up to so much, I should have lots to write about. In reality it’s just the opposite. I have been so busy with the BS day to day, work and class stuffs; that any moment spent for personal time gets blown sleeping or devoted to games and hanging out.
The new thing is company trips.
Now that I’m assisting the IT guy (that IT as in ‘it’, as in ‘tag your it’), while he’s pulling network administration stuffs, I’m bouncing around the lower 48 states to set up depositions. Great when it comes to baby-sitting a bunch of attorneys in downtown D.C., not so great when you have to got to Wisconsin, Ohio or Iowa. I didn’t even think they had laws in Iowa, never mind law firms. Like I really want to spend my day setting up a deposition for Bumpkin, Bumpkin & Cousinlover (LLP).
BTW, WTF is up with the ‘Quiet Car’? Between the rumble of the train and the hiss of the overhead air nozzle, the sound of an iPod is just too much for these people. Maybe if your using those shitty white headphones that come with it, but if you have even a decent earbuds, they completely seal any noise going in or COMING OUT. My eardrum could be hemorrhaging and the person next to me would be none the wiser. These things are quiet but deliver big sound in your ear. It’s like when your on an airplane and they politely tell everyone that they should turn off all electronic devices or we’ll crash. I usually still have my earbuds in at this time. EVERY TIME. The plane is one big electronic device. I don’t see them turning it off and gliding back onto the runway. To appease them though I pull that move where the ear facing away from them still has the earbud in, while the other ear is exposed. That’s apparently enough to convince them. Gets that stewardess bitch every time. But anyways.
I really enjoyed my last trip to Washington DC. I almost look forward to the next time I go out that way. It was a lot nicer that I expected. Capitol area DC kinda sucks, but Downtown had a bunch of bars and stores and was just metropolitan enough to get by. Everything is clean, it’s not nearly as crowded and their subway system is reminiscent of the Disney tram ride (That’s right... it’s a ride.) It works more or less like the LIRR in that it gets you from Point A to Downtown DC and Point B to DC, but no direct route from A to B. Point C is where the crack heads are, we don’t go there.
I should post more. Don’t really know why I ever stopped.
This one is for the homies who ain’t with us no mo’.
And by “‘us,” I mean Me.
And by “ain’t, with” I mean “out in Long Island.”