I was walking down the hallway in the office building where I work, heading to the bathroom, when I saw this guy walking the opposite way toward me.
"Hey!!" I said.
"What's up?" he jovially replied.
"Not much. You?"
"Just tryin' to keep afloat, man."
"I hear you. Things are crazy these days."
"Seriously. They are."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
(pause)
"Well good talkin' to you bud. I'll see you later," I said.
"Totally," he replied.
And that was my latest conversation with the "hallway guy."
We all have a hallway guy or girl in our lives. The person you pass by in the hallway almost every day -- usually at work but sometimes in your apartment complex -- that you strike up a 60- to 90-second conversation with every time you pass by each other. It's friendly, even funny at times, which is interesting when you consider th following facts:
---You don't know the person's name.
---You don't know what the person does, or in fact anything about the person in general.
---And you have no idea how this daily or almost-daily banter between the two of you even began.
And that, to me, is the weirdest thing about the hallway person in our lives. How did the hell did this even start? Did he or she talk to me first? Did I initiate the conversation? How did it evolve into this? Why do we feel the need to ask this person questions about a life we know nothing about?
And what the hell is his (or her) name?!?
Ah, the name of the person. A mystery in and of itself. Because we don't know the person's name, we must make up name-like references for them during these hallway visits. Hallway guys are called "Bud", "buddy" or "brotha". Hallway girls are called "Hey there!", "Sweetie" or "Oh my God, I love that color on you!!"
And the thing is, we can't actually ask the person what his or her name is. Because after several weeks of conversations with this person, you can't just suddenly ask them their name and admit in the process that you've been talking to this person day in and day out for weeks without actually knowing who the hell it is you're talking to.
Never mind the fact that they themselves probably have no clue what your name is. That's irrelevant. You want them to take the plunge first.
In a way, it's like a game of Chicken.
I have no answers on how to make hallway conversations more comfortable. For now, every time you see him (or her) be friendly, smile a lot...
...and hope or she gets fired or moves out of your building so you never have to talk to them again.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
A good friend of mine is currently interning at the Los Angeles County District Attorney's office and told me about one recent criminal case in which two college kids decided to rob a pizza delivery boy when they realized that they didn't have enough money to pay for their large pepperoni-and-sausage pizza and buffalo wings. They now face up to two years in prison.
So let's review:
Two kids order, say, $20 worth of food.
Now, they either a) realized after placing the order that they didn't have enough money to pay for the food, and rather than pay with an ATM, write a bad check or look for change under the couch, they decided to rob the delivery boy; or b) they were always planning to rob the guy over pizza and wings.
They rob the guy, taking the food -- and nothing else -- since pizza delivery boys aren't exactly known for fat wads of cash.
They leave the guy lying there in the hallway.
They close the door.
They eat the food.
They laugh.
And it never occurs to them for a moment that the pizza delivery boy in the hallway could eventually get up, dust himself off and call the police.
(pause)
You know, I've spent the last five minutes trying to think of a poignant, funny ending to this story, but I just can't think of one. These guys were stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The youth of America today is dumb.
And one day, they will breed.
Scary.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Fathers Who Takes Their Sons To Starbucks: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
OK, I have to get something off my chest.
Months ago, I wrote about how much I hated Starbucks. It's just a retched, awful place that's ruining society as we know it (plus, I'm not a coffee drinker). Sadly, however, I'm forced to go there from time to time because my fiancee Ramona just has to have her Venti iced lattes (sigh).
So that's why I visited the Starbucks in Chatsworth on a recent Saturday morning. And I saw something that just pissed me off.
Fathers taking their sons to Starbucks.
There's a certain bond between a father and son, a connection that simply can't be explained to women. The foundation for this bond is mostly created when the son is a boy and his father takes him out on Saturdays to do father-son things.
So when I see a father taking his son out to a God damn coffee bar on a Saturday morning because he can't fathom the possibility of spending any quality time with his boy without first partaking in a caramel makiyata (and if I spelled that incorrectly, tough), it just pisses me off. Because not only are you not spending any real time with your son, but you're making him think that places like Starbucks are normal!!
You know where my dad would take me on Saturday morning outings?
Go-Kart racing.
The arcade.
And the hot dog stand.
He never took me to a coffee bar.
Know why?
Because we're heteros.
That's right. I said it. And you know what? I'm not sorry.
(Except to my homosexual readers. Nevin Barich loves the gay community and I appreciate your continued support. :-0)
The point I'm making is: Boys today need guidance. They need to see the little things to let them know that their father is a man who does man things.
Starbucks is not a man thing. It's a metrosexual thing.
And there's nothing wrong with metrosexual things. Hell, I do metrosexual things. I own a striped shirt or two.
But if a man needs to get his Starbucks fix, let him do so on his own time.
Because sons should never see their fathers in such lights.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
More than 10,000 page views have graced nevdogg.blogspot.com!!!
Thousands of people around the world...
...with no lives.
And for that, I say thank you.
:-)
Months ago, I wrote about how much I hated Starbucks. It's just a retched, awful place that's ruining society as we know it (plus, I'm not a coffee drinker). Sadly, however, I'm forced to go there from time to time because my fiancee Ramona just has to have her Venti iced lattes (sigh).
So that's why I visited the Starbucks in Chatsworth on a recent Saturday morning. And I saw something that just pissed me off.
Fathers taking their sons to Starbucks.
There's a certain bond between a father and son, a connection that simply can't be explained to women. The foundation for this bond is mostly created when the son is a boy and his father takes him out on Saturdays to do father-son things.
So when I see a father taking his son out to a God damn coffee bar on a Saturday morning because he can't fathom the possibility of spending any quality time with his boy without first partaking in a caramel makiyata (and if I spelled that incorrectly, tough), it just pisses me off. Because not only are you not spending any real time with your son, but you're making him think that places like Starbucks are normal!!
You know where my dad would take me on Saturday morning outings?
Go-Kart racing.
The arcade.
And the hot dog stand.
He never took me to a coffee bar.
Know why?
Because we're heteros.
That's right. I said it. And you know what? I'm not sorry.
(Except to my homosexual readers. Nevin Barich loves the gay community and I appreciate your continued support. :-0)
The point I'm making is: Boys today need guidance. They need to see the little things to let them know that their father is a man who does man things.
Starbucks is not a man thing. It's a metrosexual thing.
And there's nothing wrong with metrosexual things. Hell, I do metrosexual things. I own a striped shirt or two.
But if a man needs to get his Starbucks fix, let him do so on his own time.
Because sons should never see their fathers in such lights.
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
More than 10,000 page views have graced nevdogg.blogspot.com!!!
Thousands of people around the world...
...with no lives.
And for that, I say thank you.
:-)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Still The Bane Of All Male Existence (a.k.a. Valentine’s Day): A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
Nevdogg Note: One of the first blog posts I ever wrote was about how men hated Valentine's Day. And with the "holiday" mere hours away, I thought it wise to write on the subject. But when reading over last year's blog, I realized: My thoughts on the subject hasn't changed. Plus, the last blog on it was pretty entertaining. :-) So here's last year's Valentine's Day blog. For my new readers, enjoy. For my original readers, enjoy this trip down memory lane.
This Saturday marks one of the most painful days of the year in the life of the non-single man. It's a day we dread, a day we fear, a day that makes us sag our shoulders at the mere thought.
They call this horror of horrors: Valentine's Day.
Now, all the men reading this know exactly where I'm coming from, nodding and thinking, "Amen, my brother. The truth must finally be told." So it's to you, female audience of Nevin's blogs, that I'm speaking to today.
If a man has a girlfriend, fiancee or wife, he despises Valentine's Day. Why?
1) Money. When Valentine's Day is over, the man's wallet is going to be a couple of hundred dollars less (and that's IF the woman in question is easy to please). Flowers, candy, dinner...everything is jacked up price-wise on this Hallmark-created holiday. And businesses know that a man can't skimp on the festivities, lest he do so at his own peril.
I once suggested to a former girlfriend that we go to Dennys on Feb. 14 and that she pretend to be 56 in order to get the senior citizen price on the pancakes.
The idea didn't fly.
So businesses charge their exorbitant fees on Valentine's Day and laugh to themselves, knowing that they've got us by the testicles.
2) Pressure. Here's an interesting observation I've made over the last several Valentine's Days. Giving in and paying $50 for $10 roses is no longer good enough. Today's women want something different, special, something that sets them apart from their girlfriends. It's like the man is caught in the middle of a female pissing contest.
So not only does the man have to shell out a lot of money, but now he's expected to put in some thought? What are we supposed to do? Learn the guitar and write you a love song? Take you to the circus and arrange to be shot out of a cannon while we scream "I love you" as we go soaring over the horizon? Buy you a car?
Money and thought? C'mon!!
3) It's not fair. I saw a jewelry commercial the other day with the tagline, "This Valentine's Day, show her how much you care." Well, where's the "show him" commercials? When was it decided that Valentine's Day was only about one gender? When did men get left out in the cold? Do we not have some sort of role in the whole "couples" concept?
All I want is for there to be a commercial for me. How about: "On Valentine's Day, show him you care: Madden 2009 for the Playstation 3."
Is that too much to ask?
So, non-single ladies, I'd like to end with this:
If on Valentine's Day, your man did not step up to your expectations, remember: It's not that he doesn't love you...
...it's that he can't afford you.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
This year, because I love my soon-to-be wife -- and because I'm stupid -- I'm watching American Idol, so that she and I have one more thing to share.
That should be considered her Valentine's Day gift.
But it won't be.
Instead, I must satisfy myself with the fact that I'm making her happy.
...
God, I'm stupid.
This Saturday marks one of the most painful days of the year in the life of the non-single man. It's a day we dread, a day we fear, a day that makes us sag our shoulders at the mere thought.
They call this horror of horrors: Valentine's Day.
Now, all the men reading this know exactly where I'm coming from, nodding and thinking, "Amen, my brother. The truth must finally be told." So it's to you, female audience of Nevin's blogs, that I'm speaking to today.
If a man has a girlfriend, fiancee or wife, he despises Valentine's Day. Why?
1) Money. When Valentine's Day is over, the man's wallet is going to be a couple of hundred dollars less (and that's IF the woman in question is easy to please). Flowers, candy, dinner...everything is jacked up price-wise on this Hallmark-created holiday. And businesses know that a man can't skimp on the festivities, lest he do so at his own peril.
I once suggested to a former girlfriend that we go to Dennys on Feb. 14 and that she pretend to be 56 in order to get the senior citizen price on the pancakes.
The idea didn't fly.
So businesses charge their exorbitant fees on Valentine's Day and laugh to themselves, knowing that they've got us by the testicles.
2) Pressure. Here's an interesting observation I've made over the last several Valentine's Days. Giving in and paying $50 for $10 roses is no longer good enough. Today's women want something different, special, something that sets them apart from their girlfriends. It's like the man is caught in the middle of a female pissing contest.
So not only does the man have to shell out a lot of money, but now he's expected to put in some thought? What are we supposed to do? Learn the guitar and write you a love song? Take you to the circus and arrange to be shot out of a cannon while we scream "I love you" as we go soaring over the horizon? Buy you a car?
Money and thought? C'mon!!
3) It's not fair. I saw a jewelry commercial the other day with the tagline, "This Valentine's Day, show her how much you care." Well, where's the "show him" commercials? When was it decided that Valentine's Day was only about one gender? When did men get left out in the cold? Do we not have some sort of role in the whole "couples" concept?
All I want is for there to be a commercial for me. How about: "On Valentine's Day, show him you care: Madden 2009 for the Playstation 3."
Is that too much to ask?
So, non-single ladies, I'd like to end with this:
If on Valentine's Day, your man did not step up to your expectations, remember: It's not that he doesn't love you...
...it's that he can't afford you.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
This year, because I love my soon-to-be wife -- and because I'm stupid -- I'm watching American Idol, so that she and I have one more thing to share.
That should be considered her Valentine's Day gift.
But it won't be.
Instead, I must satisfy myself with the fact that I'm making her happy.
...
God, I'm stupid.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Economy Schnomy: Be Pampered And Spoiled On Your Birthday: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience
I've gone to a few birthday parties recently and I've noticed that they've been toned down a bit as we hit upon tough economic times. Now I understand the need to save money when times are tight, but birthdays are a time to be spoiled and pampered, regardless of the current economic climate.
So below are some bits of infinite birthday wisdom for those who are thinking about ratcheting down their special day:
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 1: Have People Pamper You On Your Birthday. For those of you who don’t force people to wait on you hand-and-foot on your birthday, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays are the one time of year where the loved ones in your life have to wait on you like slaves!! Why, without that breakfast in bed or that foot rub or that movie on TV that everyone refuses to watch on any other day because it stars Jean Claude Van Damme, what’s the point of birthdays? You might as well just turn the lights off, hide under the covers, and wait for the day to end.
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 2: Have People Buy You Expensive Gifts On Your Birthday. For those of you who don’t desire expensive gifts on your birthday, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays are the perfect opportunity to demand that your loved ones shell out big bucks for ridiculous products that you don’t need. Pillows stuffed with duck feathers. Diamond-encrusted coasters. Gold-plated dispensers filled with Pez. Do you need any of these items? No. But who cares? It’s your birthday!! This is your one day to demand insane items at prices far greater than the average third-world person makes in a year.
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 3: Have People Take You Out To Pricey Dinners On Your Birthday. For those of you who celebrate your birthday by hosting a party in which you make food, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays aren’t a time to cook for others. They’re a time for people to take you to expensive dinners at places you would never set foot into if the money was coming out of your wallet. Now don’t get me wrong: I enjoy eating the food you make at your own birthday. But if you were really in the “birthday spirit,” you would enjoy eating the $37 asparagus with tomato wedges and parsley that some French-sounding restaurant charges (because it’s all about the atmosphere) that I’m paying for because it’s your birthday!!
See how you’re missing the boat here?
So while I hope you have a happy birthday this year, I’m sure that by following these simple guidelines, your next birthday will be the best birthday ever!!
Even if your friends and loved ones hate you for life.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
OK I admit, this isn't really a SOTS. But I loved this comment so much that I had to give it mention. Last week, I wrote about the de-evolution of Super Bowl parties, which led to the following comment from longtime reader Another Suburban Mom:
Veggie tray? No %$#&*# way! If you want veggies, order a %$#&*# veggie pizza like a good American.
Of course our Superbowl party consisted of Chili with melted cheddar cheese, a side of home made beer bread, and then some blondies with M&M's and chocolate ice cream.
Nice to see that some old-school Super Bowl parties still exist.
So below are some bits of infinite birthday wisdom for those who are thinking about ratcheting down their special day:
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 1: Have People Pamper You On Your Birthday. For those of you who don’t force people to wait on you hand-and-foot on your birthday, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays are the one time of year where the loved ones in your life have to wait on you like slaves!! Why, without that breakfast in bed or that foot rub or that movie on TV that everyone refuses to watch on any other day because it stars Jean Claude Van Damme, what’s the point of birthdays? You might as well just turn the lights off, hide under the covers, and wait for the day to end.
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 2: Have People Buy You Expensive Gifts On Your Birthday. For those of you who don’t desire expensive gifts on your birthday, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays are the perfect opportunity to demand that your loved ones shell out big bucks for ridiculous products that you don’t need. Pillows stuffed with duck feathers. Diamond-encrusted coasters. Gold-plated dispensers filled with Pez. Do you need any of these items? No. But who cares? It’s your birthday!! This is your one day to demand insane items at prices far greater than the average third-world person makes in a year.
Bit Of Infinite Birthday Wisdom # 3: Have People Take You Out To Pricey Dinners On Your Birthday. For those of you who celebrate your birthday by hosting a party in which you make food, I ask: What’s wrong with you? Birthdays aren’t a time to cook for others. They’re a time for people to take you to expensive dinners at places you would never set foot into if the money was coming out of your wallet. Now don’t get me wrong: I enjoy eating the food you make at your own birthday. But if you were really in the “birthday spirit,” you would enjoy eating the $37 asparagus with tomato wedges and parsley that some French-sounding restaurant charges (because it’s all about the atmosphere) that I’m paying for because it’s your birthday!!
See how you’re missing the boat here?
So while I hope you have a happy birthday this year, I’m sure that by following these simple guidelines, your next birthday will be the best birthday ever!!
Even if your friends and loved ones hate you for life.
:-)
And now for this week's:
SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE
OK I admit, this isn't really a SOTS. But I loved this comment so much that I had to give it mention. Last week, I wrote about the de-evolution of Super Bowl parties, which led to the following comment from longtime reader Another Suburban Mom:
Veggie tray? No %$#&*# way! If you want veggies, order a %$#&*# veggie pizza like a good American.
Of course our Superbowl party consisted of Chili with melted cheddar cheese, a side of home made beer bread, and then some blondies with M&M's and chocolate ice cream.
Nice to see that some old-school Super Bowl parties still exist.
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