Operation: Dumbo Drop Update

So I'm now approximately two weeks into this whole "fitness" thing. I'm at a pace that has me either going to the gym or running at least 3 times a week. I just realized now, that I never originally weighed myself so I don't know what I'm working down from. So first thing's first, I'm going to weigh myself and...*gulp*...post it. Maybe the public humiliation I'm sure to endure will encourage me to keep working out.

I suffered some initial soreness after lifting for the first time in a long time two weeks ago; but feel much better now. In addition I'm up to running a distance of a 5k with no lingering pains in my shins/knees. I'm at a terrible pace, but hopefully that will improve with time. My hope is that eventually I can get my endurance up to a point that I will be able to start playing basketball with my friends.

I recognize almost immediately, that I have to alter my diet. I've been really terrible about preparing my own meals. Back in August of last year, a friend came to visit for an extended period of time, and I never got back onto my schedule. Couple that with the fact that I can never seem to find space in my refrigerator to store food, and you have a recipe for fat Mike.

Like Many Weekends the New Vampire Weekend is too Short

I remember discussing Vampire Weekend and their self-titled album with a friend of mine at a party in summer of 2008. We expressed strong support for the use of strings that sounded right out of Viennese concert hall in the 1800s and the Graceland-ish use of African drums. We enjoyed that these seemingly overly privileged kids from New York accepted who they were and made music of what they knew. It was odd, here you had an item that smacked of Pop, but in concept was very punk without being Pop Punk (thankfully). The discussion led inevitably to the idea of the backlash that was awaiting these gentlemen and the scrutiny to which their second album would be subjected.

Speak of the devil, here she is. Vampire Weekend's sophomore offering, Contra. I have taken some time to give this album a few listens and I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed it. The album starts off with a song, Horchata, that sounds very similar to the previous offering. It utilizes the same drums that make you believe you're listening to a lost Paul Simon track. This sound continues to carry through the album but is joined by (I can't believe I'm saying this) even more dancy keys. I believe that this is due to Rotsam Batmanglij's experience in his side project, Discovery (named for the Daft Punk album of the same name). Songs like California English, Giving up the Gun, and Diplomat's Son show the most influence by the side project (and that's a good thing in my eyes). Those of you who know me and my love for sing-a-long songs will know instantly upon listening to it, White Sky, is my initial favorite on the album (I'm sure it will change with deeper listenings). The strings remain although I feel that they take a step back in order to highlight the heavier use of synth and sampling. For me, this results in a less full sound but more catchiness to the album. That being said, the ending ballad, I Think Ur a Contra, is haunting and beautiful; and a wonderful use of the strings.

Verdict? Vampire Weekend has managed to stay true to their polished roots while curiously expanding into new territory. They continue to deliver cleverly worded and titled songs that are both catchy and still musically impressive. I feel that it is not as cohesive as the previous album, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I enjoy the variety of sound that they provide, while still having that Vampire Weekendiness that I have come to love and appreciate. Even with all this, the album clocks in at just over half an hour, and one wonders how long it will be before they can perform a live show that warrants a set list that doesn't say, "Play Everything". Give it a listen B+.

Operation Dumbo Drop

So, for those who don't know me, and at this point, I don't think that is anyone yet (in which case, if you're reading this tell your friends!), I'm not what you would call a slender fellow. That isn't to say that I'll be carted through a hole cut through the side of my house when I die, either. I'm what most guys online would describe as an average build, which is what we all know as a smidge overweight.

I could do the normal thing which is to blame genetics or time or whatever but the truth of the matter is that I'm this way because of life choices. I have a job that although not behind a desk still consists of a lot of being stationary unless I'm otherwise actively exercising with a client. When not at work, I'm normally engaged in sedentary activities: watching TV, playing video games, or reading. The number one culprit, simply put, is that I like to eat. No matter what I look like (skinny, average, overweight) I'm a fat kid at heart. I like fat kid food. I like fast food, I like fine dining, I like home cooking, I like dives, I just like to taste things in general. I have a lifelong love affair with pork (Filipinos you know what I'm talking about); and my love of bacon isn't so much a love as it is a heroin addiction.

I have taken several approaches to my weight in the past. I have exercised with my classmates just as much as the next guy in PE. I wasn't one of the stragglers in the pack walking with the Latina chicks trying to get their make up not to run. I was to the back of the middle of the pack. I've taken the inevitability approach, stating, "Well, my parents are fat, why fight what time and genes are going to do anyway"? I've done the overzealous running thing on several occasions, doing too much too soon and having to quit due to shin splints, etc.

I've had several rock bottom moments that make me get back up on the exercise horse as well. Most of which are simply catching view of pictures of me from high school, and not remembering that I was ever not fat. I've had overzealous nights out where the aches in pains in the morning are indicative of much more vigorous activity. The worst of which would probably being sore after a game of home run derby style wiffle ball. The most recent was once again catching pictures of me in high school as I was looking for baby pictures with which to decorate my home for our holiday party.

So here's the challenge to myself, for the most part: I'm not giving up this time; I'm going to take the exercise part of my life seriously. In an effort to keep me honest, I've purchased a membership to the Arlington County fitness centers. To help make me feel like I'm not necessarily alone in this, I've agreed to keep in contact with my cousin about my efforts and vice versa. It's not exactly a "Biggest Loser" deal, but we both just need something to keep us motivated. Thirdly, and obviously, I'm blogging about it. Hopefully, there will be some kind of update each week.

I'm aware that I've just posted an old washblog casting aspursions on the fitness douche. I would like to point out that any attention called to myself (i.e. this blog) is sheerly for self-motivational purposes. I also don't go to one of those super gyms for people to look at me. On the contrary, I want to hide away just how out of shape I am until I feel confident enough to face the world. For now I will continue to work out at the county fitness center lifting with kindly octogenarians and fellow fitness enthusiasts not willing to shell out real money for a gym.

On Douches 2: Electric Boogaloo (a washblog)

The Fitness Douche (Douchous Gymnasius)

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/print?id=1831396&type=story

It is probably self-evident that this douche's natural habitat lies at your local gym. He is likely to be adorned in all the most recent in moisture wicking sportswear. The mating call and ironically the defense mechanism for a Fitness douche are loud grunts uttered while "lifting" causing as much attention to be on him and how much he's lifting. Other forms of attack can include lecturing you on what is unhealthy about your diet. On the subject of diets, understand that the fitness douche does not eat food in the traditional sense. All items consumed by the fitness douche come in bar, gel, or liquid form. They can easily be distracted by words like electrolytes, anti-oxidants, anything ending in -ceps or -oids. While a Fitness Douche may tell you that much of his joy is derived from being physically active, it is actually derived from depriving you of the joy you get from unhealthy lifestyle choices i.e., "You wouldn't eat that if you knew what was in it".

The Music Douche (Douchous Sonicus)

http://hipsterhunter.com/XVIII_files/seeing%20double%20hipsters%20coachella.jpg

The Music Douche is sometimes categorized as another form of Fashion Douche. The difference is that while a Fashion Douche spends exorbitant amounts of money on clothes, the Music Douche will often spend exorbitant amounts of money to look like they don't spend anything on clothes. Often coiffed with a mullet or a faux hawk, or a mop that they spend hours on to make it look like they just woke up, you will find the Music Douche in any slowly gentrifying area of your city in a seedy small venue. This particular douche takes great pleasure in knowing things you don't, even if they have to say they like obscure shitty skacore bands just because you haven't heard of them. They will deny the musical talent of any band that is heard on terrestrial radio unless they preface it with "guilty pleasure" or "I like it in an ironic way". They have no mating call of their own and like a mocking bird, will either sing you their favorite b-side deep cut of their favorite obscure band or they will forgo their voice entirely and use their favorite mating tool, the mix CD. Older or more dedicated Music Douches will even dig up ancient relics to record mixtapes.

The Wine Douche (Douchous Oenophilius)

http://www.dvdez.net/wp-content/uploads/469.jpg

This is another douche that really pushes the limits of something you might consider overly pretentious. The wine douche is often found in high class wine bars or your local proprieter of fine spirits. This douche is pretending to have a knowledge of a sommelier because they've seen Sideways too many times. They almost always ascribe to the policy of expensive equals good. They'll ask to keep the cork, even though it will tell you nothing about the wine. They might even have a collection of corks like others might collect actual trophies marking actual successes. They congregate in large groups called "tastings" or "parties" where they share various wines and the stinkiest cheeses; spending hours talking about wine as art or how to truly understand wine you need to have the dirt underneath your fingers and the vintage in your veins or something equally asinine. The wine douches mating ritual involves an elaborate display of swirling of the wine and loud slurping noises all designed to draw as much attention to themselves.

On Douches (a washblog)

I don't know if it's a function of where I live or where I choose to drink myself into thinking my life's better than it is; but I find that I've encountered a wide array of douches in my life. I'm not talking of some kind of odd beverage choice here, I'm speaking on the "gentlemen" clientele that seem to frequent the same watering holes I do. After having just said that, I also hope that this is not indicative of some kind of character flaw I haven't noticed about myself. Either way I'm going to choose to ignore that last part and shove on with this lil' project of mine I have chosen to dub: The Douche Bag Beastiary. I feel that in the past the term douche bag used to mean one thing: a man who is unjustifiably arrogant about one thing or another. Over time this one person category has mutated, splintered and flourished into a plethora of species that would intimidate Charles Darwin. In this and following posts (as the douches are numerous and I am lazy) I will attempt to categorize and describe these aforementioned douches.

The Fashion Douche (Douchous Textilius):

from: frattinghard.com/archive/2006_10_01_archive.html

You may have seen this particular douche on any number of your weekend excursions. His favorite habitats seem to include upscale malls or bars with one word names (Tonic, Velvet, etc.). He is usually marked by an outfit that would likely cost more than your entire wardrobe. His collar is usually popped. You may have seen him around the turn of the century sporting an upside down visor, or a backwards visor, or some odd variation of wearing a visor. This particular species will tend to mask the stench of bullshit with some designer cologne of which he has no clue how much to use. His shirt will almost assuredly be either one of two things: striped button-down so elaborate you'd think you were looking at a magic eye poster (you remember those things? Woo 1994!), or an equally elaborate t-shirt (Ed Hardy or some knock off) with a design that spans his entire ample torso. It is this observer's belief that the object of this is similar to a bird of paradise displaying large shows of color so as to attract females only the true aim is more of a visual rufie designed to disorient the intended female.

The Vehicular Douche (Douchous Automobilius):from: theory.isthereason.com/?m=200601

It can be argued that this douche would rather be heard than be seen although this can be argued the other way as well. I choose to believe that this douche would rather just let the whole world know he exists through any facet of his car whether it be the high whine coming out of the oversized exhaust on his 1995 Honda Civic; the mural of Apollo streaking down the side of his 1987 Ford Mustang; or the shaking of your own chest cavity caused by the bass of a system that would give Xzibit amp envy. The Vehicular Douche is not to be confused with an actual gearhead who knows about cars and has actual grease under his fingernails. No quite the contrary he has no idea how to fix his car and will go to great lengths and spend any amount of money so that he doesn't have to worry about it (like, say airlifting your car to a shop in another country). Frequent stomping grounds for this douche include commuter parking lots after hours, or speeding in front of your house. They prefer to create nests out of clippings from import car/tuner magazines in their disproportionately small homes due to their crippling car payments. Mating calls usually involve lame jokes concerning the back seat or parking the "meat bus" somewhere.

The Scholastic Douche (Douchous Educanis):

from: http://www.abovethelaw.com/2007/02/tier_3_law_students_are_hotter.php

As one might be able to guess this douche is marked by his sole interest: Where you went to school. This is not because he genuinely cares where you went or what you learned but only because it serves as a context for him to tell you where he went and what he studied. In a similar fashion, he will inquire about your intellectual interests only again as a point of reference. His speech patterns are marked not by listening but by waitin for you to finish talking that is if he'll let you get in a word edgewise. Favorite habitats tend to gravitate to large schools with a strong Public Policy department or equally small liberal arts schools with competitive English or Philosophy departments. The scholastic douche is usually ensconced in tweed although he enjoys the touch of a good wool sweater.

Overheard at Arby's (a washblog)

So the other day I was "enjoying" the "roast beef" of a fine Arby's sandwich on a not so regular break in my day at work. For some reason unbeknownst to me, there was a large group of high school boys there. From the looks of things, there were several tables of them pushed together comprising some sort of sports team and a smaller table of kids who just weren't cool enough. Cool enough to skip, but not cool enough to hang with the real movers and shakers. Being somewhat of an in-betweener in high school, I felt I could relate to the latter. I continued my lunch despite the cries of bravado provided by the table of future employees of Glory Days Bar and Grill, but found the conversation from the table of not-quite-there's to be somewhat interesting.

Boy 1: I don't get it, dude, we talk all the time and she thinks I'm totally hilarious. We've got like 3 classes together; and we're always in the same study groups. But we never hang out. She's always out with Brian _____. He's such a dick. (nods of assent from his friends here) I mean how cliche is it that she'd want to go out with a jock?

I'd like to point out here that if the boy is intelligent enough to understand what a cliche that is, he should be smart enough to understand what a cliche he is. But wait, true believers perhaps one of his friends will enlighten our protagonist with such a pearl of wisdom...

Boy 2: Dude, chicks dig assholes. Brian ____ is a dick, and a huge asshole (personal snickering as to what that would look like anthropomorphically speaking). You're too nice dude. You're that nice guy that you see in movies that the chick never goes for.

Anthropomorphic DickAsshole

Almost there...boy blunders almost there...

Boy 3: That does it dude. I'm gonna stop being nice to chicks. I'm just gonna be an asshole and see what happens.

Boys 1 & 2: Yeah, fuck it. I'm gonna be an asshole, too. Fuck this being nice, shit.

Ouch! So close, but yet so far from any real life changing realizations.

And there you have it. You have the one conversation every nice guy in high school will have with his friends at one point in his high school career across every race, creed, color, religion. The conversation where they all consciously decide to be an asshole to chicks because chicks dig assholes.

Oh, boys 1,2 and 3. How sorry I feel for these kids. These poor bastards thinking they can change a part of their nature the way you, dear reader, or I would change our clothes from work to play. I wanted to shake them, and warn them as a recovering high school nice guy (we can smell our own), "You can't just decide to be an asshole, you retards." It's something you're either born with or it gets beaten into you from years of verbal abuse and failure. And unfortunatley, no matter how much you think you've experienced, you're far too young to experience real failure just yet.

Sure, they'll try to be assholes for awhile. It will be tough at first. Saying no to a study group with the girl you're in love with just to make her feel like you're all of a sudden aloof and disinterested (especially when you know that this is the only way you're going to spend time with her, studying). They'll even probably crack a few times and carry stuff for her or pick her up from practice etc. But then they'll get the timing wrong, or be too much of an asshole and ruin whatever meager chance they had with the girl of their dreams because they tried to be something they're not.

"Boys," I wanted to say, "you can't just decide you're an asshole one day."
"Save yourself some heartache. You can't be with these girls who seem to go for assholes because you're the nice guy. I'm not saying that nice guys finish last. Not by any means. I know tons of nice guys who have awesome girlfriends/wives. I'm telling you right now you need to give up on those girls. You don't want them really. The girls who go for assholes are the ones with terrible daddy issues that you as a nice guy, or any guy really, doesn't want in your life. So give up on these chicks, and find that nice girl who thinks you're impression of Cartman is spot-on and loves it. Or thinks that sports are stupid and that smart guys are sexy. As the bard says, 'To thine own self be true.' He knows what he's talking about, I mean can you think of all the chicks who must have fallen in love with Shakespeare? I think they made a movie about it. I think it was called Shakespeare in Love...with Banging Mad Broads".

From: http://www.arbys.com/menu/sides.php
Ranchy judgy goodness

But as I didn't want to be a weird creepy guy at the Arby's; I just smiled to myself and dipped my loaded potato bite into sweet ranchy goodness.

In with the New with a Taste of the Old

Now that I feel like I'm actually getting to write in this regularly, I'm going to port over some of my old washblogs to the site. It's just three posts, but I feel they're somewhat humorous and would encourage you to give them a look if you haven't yet.