25 March 2010

In this post, I beat my wife

So as part of my new buy clothes that actually fit you campaign, I looked to invest in some wifebeaters to wear as undershirts. All my teeshirts hang out below my long sleeve shirts and it looks really dorky (at least that's what my sister says), so I'm in the market for undershirts. So where better a place to get some wifebeaters than good old Walmart.

So I pick up some smalls. I'm not exactly the tallest guy in the world nor would I say I'm particularly barrel chested. Let's tell it like it is. I should probably wear smalls. I figure Walmart typically has stuff custom made for them (if you're Walmat you can do whatever you want!) and everybody knows that everyone who goes to Walmart is some fat, oafish lump so the small is relative.

I open the package and see what I got. First observation is these things are fucking tight. Maybe they're supposed to be. They're undershirts, after all. But this is a little unnatural. Second they're long. What the hell man. Way to rub in the fact that I am a mere quarter of an inch over the average male height. I buy a small and can't even get an undershirt that doesn't terminate at some reasonable length. Eat a dick. Seriously.

So now I have five of these fuckers. Who knows if they can go back to the store (the receipt does, but I don't have it handy). Any tall gangly fuckers want to buy them off me?

The worst part is tomorrow my teeshirts are still going to hang out. Eat. A. Dick.

16 March 2010

Restaurant review - Rincon Latino

A long time ago I had pupusas in a Mexican restaurant in my home town, The Aztec. Then they mysteriously disappeared, showing up every once in a blue moon as a special.

Somehow I found out there was a Salvadoran restaurant in downtown Framingham called Rincon Latino and they had pupusas. I was at my parents' house over the weekend and I convinced them that what I really wanted for my birthday meal was to get takeout from them.

My mom and I got papusas and my dad got tacos. Everything was dank in the best of ways. I probably wouldn't know a good pupusa from a bad one, but I really enjoyed them! And I think the three meals came to $14.08 all together.

There are about 7 tables inside, so if you want to sit and watch the cars back up at the railroad crossing you totally can. Go there! It's at 39 Hollis St, right over the railroad tracks.

15 March 2010

Normal people things (feeling nostalgic)

When I was in high school I didn't really talk about normal people things with my friends. What's normal people things: you know shit like who likes whom, who's fighting whom, who's doing what this weekend, general interpersonal shit. I mean honestly, I look back it now and feel kinda like I was this (literal) clown who could say weird stuff that was occasionally funny. That's all I was though. But rarely did I know what was actually going on. And no one ever knew what was going on with me. In some ways I felt like I was among of the nonessential personnel of my social circle, and I blame no one but myself for that.

I think I really broke out of that sometime my second year of undergrad. I'm still kind of uncomfortable asking people to elaborate about things in their personal lives, but I think I've improved. And basically I'm an open book. Fucking prompt me and I'll tell you anything you'd like.

The problem, though, is that I feel like I'm still my prior self around people I know from high school! Oh well?

12 March 2010

Polka party time

Waking up is a real battle for me. Not in the depressing sort of way, but I really like lying in bed and I don't have a whole lot of self control. If I have an alarm going off, I turn it off and then walk right back to my bed and fall asleep. I tell myself only a couple of minutes, and that never happens, and it happens nearly every time without fail. Usually when I know I have a test or something, this doesn't happen, but for your ordinary days I play a pretty dangerous game.

So I began waking up to music. And I had the perfect station for it: 99.3 your basic mediocre rock station. Typically what would happen is I'd gradually wake up over the course of 3 to 4 mediocre to decent songs and then a real stinker would play and I'd be awake and alert enough to hate it and not feel like getting right back in bed after I turned off the alarm.

Then for some reason I decided to test fate. I sort of grew irrationally fond of 93.9, a pretty weird eclectic station after they played Gimmie Shelter and Reckoner back-to-back. Of course this will never happen again, but it was pretty rad. And speaking of rad, they have some pretty rad funk on Friday evenings. So it became my wakeup station. This worked less well because the music was overall pretty inoffensive. The alarmism over the heavy water leaks at Vermont Yankee helped for awhile, but after some time the station became pretty ineffective.

So I switched it up again, this time to 91.1, UMass's own WMUA. And that's probably been even worse. But it's been pretty educational. The past two Sundays I've needed to get out of bed fairly early to start working. This is the hardest thing to do, waking up on a weekend to do some unenviable task. There's no embarrassment of showing up late and missing a meeting or class, but if you lounge around in bed you're screwing yourself. But lounging around is so nice. So what do I get to lounge around to?

A big block of Polka.

So granted to half-conscious mornings of Polka hardly makes me an expert, but I'm pretty convinced that Polka is probably among the most uniformly themed type of music out there. Maybe the woman who does the show is picking and choosing, but all Polka seems to be about two things:
1) Polka music.
2) Polish people.
One is really weird. I've heard so many songs about the merits of Polka, a "Polka party time", how much fun people have because of Polka music. This sort of makes you wonder how Polka came to be in the first place. It emerged fully grown out of its own head??
Two takes some explanation, and is probably biased based on one ridiculous song. This song was basically long lists of girls' names and the implication that they were crazy about this "Polish lover boy". It was weird.

But really, I can't think of any songs that fell outside of these two headings. And so that got me thinking, could all music, fundamentally, be like this? I don't think so. I mean imagine a world where the only two songs are "Old Time Rock and Roll" and "Proud to be an American". It would stink.

Polka stinks.