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Social stupidity at 10,000 ft

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People who pull on the back of your chair to get out of their seat (on an airplane)

People who were not dropped on their head as a baby

Ok, this one really gets me going. Probably one of the biggest peeves in my entire life is when someone other than me interacts with my seat on an airplane, the greatest offense being the use of the seat in front of them to get up and lug their dumb ass to go pee on the wall in the lavatory.

But this is not the only chair-related offense:

- Why does it take 200 lbs of force to get a frakkin magazine out of the magazine holder? It isn’t a damn bear trap, it’s elastic. Be gentle.

- Why do you not believe that the meal tray is in a sufficiently upright position to latch it? You do not have to push the tray through the seat. You only need to get it up against the back of the seat lightly and turn the little thing with the useless coat hanger hook down.

- In what universe is your kid practicing his Tae Kwon Do on my seat okay? Strap that little bastard down before I do the parenting.

But the king of kings is definitely the chair-pull to get out of the seat. Beyond all else, this wind up and slingshot of my cranium is what makes me want to test how heated an argument can get before the air marshal reveals his identity.

I have narrowed the causes of this issue down to three:

  • Overweight
  • Oblivious
  • Overweight and Oblivious

Obviously the overweight one is going to happen: this is America, after all. Overweight people in America need help breathing, walking, looking, hearing, sleeping, staying awake, controlling restless legs, you name it (I’m just going off of the pills that exist, not my own judgement), so of course they’re going to need some sort of secondary power source to get themselves out of their seat: their arms on my chair.

I’m not sure what to do about that one, so I usually just offer a displeased look, which offers the question “are you just overweight, or overweight and oblivious?”, depending on whether I get a “sorry” or not. With a “sorry”, I can be reasonably happy and forgiving. Without one, I am tempted to be a real jerk: I’m not sure if you have feeling in that skin drapery that used to be your triceps, but it’s being dragged across my head and I want to puke in my mouth.

Oblivious is just unacceptable. If you do anything in this world and do not know what the effect of it is, you need to stop everything you’re doing. Everything. There is no such thing as a victimless crime. Don’t fart in the self-help section of Barnes & Noble: the cookbooks are right on the other side and you have a victim. Don’t back your car out of your parking space without looking: someone else who is not a moron is driving down the aisle and they really don’t believe that anyone is stupid enough to continue doing what you’re doing, but you do. Don’t bring your 3 year old into a nice restaurant: that should speak for itself. Just stop all of your behaviors and start using your eyes, ears, and brain to understand a new way of going about your life without annoying others. And for the love of everything holy, don’t EVER pull on the back of someone’s chair in an airplane. Figure out how to get yourself out of your own seat without using the buddy system, or just sit there and let the blood clots form in your legs.

Sincerely,
the victims

p.s. I’m sorry. This is a little mean, but holy balls does this one get me going.

September 12, 2008 | Filed Under travel | Leave a Comment 

Overzealous Elevator Embarkers

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Shampoo: People who wait for elevator disembarkers

Conditioner: People who regularly experience human on human collisions

So the elevator dance happened to me just this morning. Doors open, I’m ready to hop off and start my day, and wham, there’s some dude who has apparently never used an elevator, as ready to get on as I am to get off. The clear rules of elevator etiquette outline that people coming off of the elevator have the right-of-way, and the fact that I see an almost daily example of this simple rule being broken disturbs me.

Thankfully, I avoided a man collision this morning, but it was a near miss. The guy realized his error and turned his body just in time for the exitees to pass by without incident, but I sit here wondering now, did he learn anything from this, or will I always have to be suspicious of him in the future? Should it ever happen that I ride on the elevator with him and we mutually witness this act of social stupidity, will I have the strength to turn to this man and say “SEE?” Worse yet, will I profile this guy and people like him in the future? I hope I am not an elevator bigot, but trauma begets judgement: I do know that I am particularly ready for this to happen when I’m in a heavily IT-populated building, as these people are mentally sidetracked with trying to figure out what the best mixture of magic potions will power up their knight in World of Warcraft, and not on the real world that surrounds them.

The worst offenders are the ones who have confidence in their decision to be idiots and continue plowing through the crowd like it’s the last train home and the doors are closing. I get a mental picture of a Tokyo subway car where hundreds of men in their suits, carrying their semi-pornographic comic books, are slapping up against each other like fish in a bucket, trying to get on and off of the train at the same time. It’s really a disgusting human behavior, actually, and I really hope it stops. The thought of it alone kept me from going to the Olympics this year.

This is America, people. The land of the free. Wide open spaces. It’s awkward enough being stuck in a box with 6 other people where talking is off-limits. Let me get out of the social avoidance chamber as quickly as I can, and then you can have your ride. It’s simple.

September 11, 2008 | Filed Under at work | Leave a Comment 

Mmmmm . . . . Blackberrys!

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Blood: People who use their cell phones as intended

Crip: People who use their cell phones like a CB radio made for a valley girl

The use of almost any object as originally intended eventually becomes uncool. Belts have been worn with the buckles facing sideways, hats have been worn every way possible, jeans have been backwards, and now holding a cell phone to the side of your head makes you a huge d-bag, apparently. So now we hold it out in front of our face using the speakerphone from 11 inches away…

doing the backwards thing

I guess this new style of communication, something I’m referring to as the “conference call with the world”, isn’t entirely new. I’ve seen people doing it in varying degrees for over a year now and I think I have figured out the origins: Nextel. Yes, the only telephone service in the world where people willingly paid by the minute to walkie-talkie 5 word conversations, 4 or more of which are “yep”, “roger”, and “got it”.

Examples:

  • BLEEP “Wood?”, BLEEP “got it”, BLEEP “yep?”, BLEEP “roger”
  • BLEEP “Roger…”, BLEEP “yep?”, BLEEP “got it?”, BLEEP “yep.”

This made sense because these guys were usually looking at plans, driving forklifts, beating up their girlfriends, or something else that required both hands. The construction business isn’t usually a trendsetter, but somehow this thing stuck, and it stuck big.

I think the first sighting off the job was also somewhat utilitarian: the effort seemed to be to keep the phone away from both the new nail polish (come to think of it, they were probably just new nails: 3 inches long with gold gemstones glued on: classy) and the new hair which looked like it has just gotten a new coat of polyurethane. In this case, I took the side of the offender: those extensions would inevitably have to come out if the phone made contact with the hair, never to be separated again. It was, therefore, a reasonable behavior, given the circumstances.

Gradually, this post-beautification ritual became more of a normal sight, perhaps driven by the confidence-building moments where rappers would call stockbrokers to get their balances announced to fellow Bloomingdale’s shoppers in close proximity to the baby seal skin boot section. Once the rappers got going, the 13 year old white girls weren’t far behind.

But I do have to say that I’m not totally against this idea. I am against it from the standpoint that it makes people look like morons who eat their Blackberrys like moon pies (and the effect it has on driving habits), but the priceless moments where these puck callers have emergency “abort behavior” moments as embarrassing news comes over the phone is hysterical enough for me to endorse the whole thing. Moments like these make the mall that much more entertaining. If you catch a particularly good moment, the sight of the phone crashing into a user’s head or flying into opposing foot traffic makes it all worth while.

So today, I’m gluing my laptop to the outside of my carrying bag and driving to work with my windshield wipers on. You can never say you’re a trendsetter if you don’t try.

- CUT -

September 10, 2008 | Filed Under in general | Leave a Comment 

Spooning is still inappropriate touching

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Dog: People who “spoon” their dips

Cat: People who dip directly in the bowl

Lately, I’ve seen more of this “courtesy” extended among groups of diners: people picking up their spoons or (worse yet) the spoon provided with their dips, using it to distribute their flavored fats onto their salty carbs rather than direct-dipping said carbs into said fats. I think that people who offer this service to their tablemates really feel good about themselves, and truthfully, we’re probably not that far from the Brownies and Eagle Scouts issuing some sort of accomplishment patches associated with this type of dining “best practice”.

But the spooners are quickly disappointed by the inevitable direct-dippers that sit beside or across from them. And they show it. Usually when some maverick direct-dipper draws out a portion of the dip, the spooner(s) will hover their spoon over the spinach concoction and just watch the DDer put that chip in their stupid little faces, hoping that the stare alone is enough to change the behavior. It isn’t.

Eventually, one of the blissfully unaware office mates or family members at the table will notice the spooner’s rising temperature and ask what is wrong. Since the attention has already been drawn, the spooner can no longer hold in his anger: “Well, Pam (or other typical blissfully unaware name), Tim here is dipping his chips directly into the bowl while the rest of us are politely spooning our dips onto our plates.” And so begins one of the most classic restaurant dialogues of our time:

DDer: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize that was bothering you, John. I’ll . . .”

Spooner: “Well it IS bothering me. It’s bothering all of us!”

DD: “Is it bothering you, Pam?”

[Pam hangs her head, trying stay out of it and revealing the surprising thinness of her red, permed hair]

DD: “How about you, Steve?”

[Steve quickly draws from the straw in his Diet Coke, looking over the rim of his glass toward the kitchen]

DD: “Well, I guess it’s not that big of a deal, but if you’re going to be a dick about it, I’ll just use the spoon”

S: “Oh, sure. Start spooning the dip now, after it’s already too late. Just great. Just GREAT.”

The spooner puts down the spoon and stops eating the dip: an act of shear will. The DD spoons some on to his 3” plate and starts trying to get it on to the chip, but he’s just pushing the dip around the plate in circles.

DD: “How the fuck are you even supposed to do this? I can’t even get the dip onto the chip. This is ridiculous.”

S: “Like this.” Spooner pushes the dip onto his chip with the spoon, and then scoops some sour cream with the same spoon to put on the chip.

DD: “Oh well shit, John, now you’ve gone and contaminated the sour cream with spinach dip. Well engineered solution you have there.”

At this point, silence usually falls over the group as the table members start to use knives, forks, and other utensils to distribute their dips, cleaning after each use over the paranoia of cross-contamination. The dip plate starts to look like a fondue pot with 37 pieces of silverware hanging to its edges. Eventually, the DD just picks up his chip and goes for the direct method once again. The rest of the table follows.

So the lesson here is that spoon dipping is a farce. Bowls were engineered for dipping; 3” saucers were engineered for staying stacked on the edge of the table. Offer the contamination-obsessed the option of buying their own dips because things are going to get a little crazy at TGI Friday’s, and there’s nothing you can do about it. In there, it’s always Friday.

- F I N -

September 9, 2008 | Filed Under food and eating | Leave a Comment 

It's either a cold or instant death

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A) People who go to doctors

B) People who use WebMD

So I have to call myself out on this one. I have found that when something is wrong with me, my first instinct is to say to myself, “self, you can figure this one out on your own.” To me, and many people like me, this means going to webMD.

Usually, a trip to webMD starts out pleasantly. I am greeted by a nice, cool color scheme and a friendly looking semi-transparent man that I can click on to identify my ailments. No screaming amputees on the other side of these walls, just calm aqua and taupe. I click on the arm, click on the finger, tell it that it tingles a little bit and then webMD goes into its back room to think about it for a few seconds before giving me the prognosis.
Picture 1

And my top results?

Pasted Graphic 1

Aah, so that little tingle in my finger is just MS. How wonderful.

It’s unlikely that I will go and see a doctor at this point. I usually just go straight into prayer. And the good news is that it isn’t necessarily MS, it could just be a stroke or social anxiety disorder, so I don’t really need to worry that much.

After a few minutes of silent meditation, the tingling starts to subside, offering me the moment of clarity that I needed to realize that I was just sitting on my hand before the symptoms began. Did you know that sitting on your hand can give you MS?

In a funnier episode involving my wife, I was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange, irrational person who was convinced she had meningitis. There was indeed a stiff neck and a slight temperature. I asked this person who had taken my wife’s otherwise logical body what had given her that idea? Ignoring me, she fetched the laptop, entering her symptoms and spinning the computer around there on the bed, much like you see in a movie after there has been a “transfer of funds”: bacterial meningitis. Neighbors to this bad news were “whiplash” and a list of alternating conditions that kill / cripple you instantly (snakebite, sudden death syndrome, an E! marathon) and pretty innocuous problems like “you probably slept wrong, dumbass”. Of course, being the medical professionals we are, it is the serious ones that are most likely.

A cool towel or 2 later, the once 98.7 degree temperature had fallen down into a normal range (98.6) and the neck was starting to soften. Hyperbole hung its head and walked out of our bedroom, and by a strange miracle, my wife did not have meningitis that night.

webMD saved me that fateful evening. I would have almost certainly missed Conan otherwise.

- F I N -

September 8, 2008 | Filed Under health, my life | Leave a Comment 

Can you hear me now?

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I: People who say they’re underpaid

II: People who choose to not spend their money on bluetooth headsets, shoes, purses, and ties they can’t afford.

Too soon?

I guess it’s just struck me as funny that I’m listening to someone with $1,000 of blinking and blinging accessories complain about how their boss doesn’t know what they “got”. I can work anywhere. I’m damn good at my job. That stupid mother-…

I have a lot of these priceless moments on elevators where taking a picture – or better yet a video – of what I’m seeing just might get me killed. Gas stations and fast food restaurants (where I’ve been spending way too much time lately) come in a close second and third for “what the hell did I just see?”, and are equally as difficult to document, so I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.

A few weeks ago, I was eating at Houston’s and I saw a gentleman walk in with no less than 5 cell phones / blackberries strapped to his belt “holster style”. Both ears were filled with bluetooth headsets (different brands – you’d think you want symmetry in this case) and he had some big ass headphones around his neck with the cord running down to one of the many boxes in his waist-mounted Best Buy kiosk. Truthfully, this was a small miracle I was witnessing: the belt itself ran just under the last shred of ass-curvature that might keep his jean shorts (yeah, keeping you guessing here) up on his body, yet in full stride and with no assistance, those pants stayed put. Rubber waistband? Suspenders? Shear will? A small zone of zero gravity? I may never know.

It’s just nice to know that the American way of spending what you don’t have is still rolling right along. Oh, hang on, my rear-right celly is blowin’ up. Must be Europe…

September 7, 2008 | Filed Under at work, in general | Leave a Comment 

In the beginning, there were two…

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There are two types of people in the world. This is an idea I subscribe to.

Yin: Those who know how to / are patient enough to use blog templates or whatever

and

Yang: Me.

So I went ahead and made a logo for this web site before I knew that this would be an issue:
tattopitw-logo

Yeah, pretty cool, huh? It’s a play on the whole TATTOPITW idea: people who use computers (the dot-matrix acronym) and people who are old school and down with typewriters (the other text, if you can see that). Well, I can’t use it because I can’t just stick it on the left side of the page like I want to and I don’t want to figure out how to do it. Not a knock on RapidWeaver (this program is very badass).

Anyhow, I’m just going to write something every day and hopefully you’ll think it’s funny. I’m debating whether this can be offensive, but I’d rather avoid all of that controversy even though it’s potentially funnier. Unfortunately now, people are very concerned about what employees and business contacts do in their spare time online. I think they should be more worried about that girl in the mail room with the pink hair who wears turtlenecks in the middle of the summer. Nobody does that unless they have a full body tattoo of dragons having sex or something.

There are comments that you can leave. I hear that’s a very hot thing these days.

- F I N -

September 6, 2008 | Filed Under in general | Leave a Comment 

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