Mornin'

So I've been wondering:

When people say "good morning," are they wishing that you will have a good morning, or are they telling you that it is already a good morning?

In support of the latter, I notice that people tend to say "good morning" more on days like today; sunny springy weekends. If that's the case, then an appropriate response would be "yes, it sure is."

But people don't say that. They say "good morning" right back. If the greeting is a statement of fact, then that's a bit odd. It would be like if I told you "Greece is the world's largest (per capita) consumer of cheese," and you responded with "Greece is the world's largest (per capita) consumer of cheese."

It must be more about well-wishing, then. That's a lot of pressure; morning only lasts a few hours, and it's tough to raise it up to a standard of goodness just because a stranger on the street told you to.

Maybe the most appropriate response to "good morning," then, is "screw off old man, I'll do what I want with my morning."

Blonde Moment

Hello, you have reached Mike's blog. Mike is not in right now, but you can leave a message after his guest post at Blonde Monde.

It's about my first real date ever.

(Thanks so much, Blondie and CJ!)

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See also: Who Were You Born to Be? (Blondie's guest post on Phronk.com).

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Edit 03/05/10: The formatting & missing text on my guest post are fixed now.

Lessons From The Bachelor, Volume 2

WTF, Jake. Vienna? Really?

We drank Old Vienna and watched in horror as Jake chose her over Tenley. I know it is the cool thing to hate Vienna, but the thing is, I really don't. There's nothing wrong with being tactlessly blunt in my books, and I'm sure she'd make a perfectly good friend in everyday life.

But there are two contradictory things wrong with the relationship between her and Jake: 1) She's way uglier than he is; and 2) He seemed to be thinking with his cock when he chose her.

When Jake first appeared on the last Bachelorette, I thought he was a douche. I retract that opinion. Jason Mesnick became a douche last season, because he made conscious choices to engage in douchebaggery. Jake, however, gives off douche vibes simply because he doesn't know any better. He is constantly putting on an act; the "too perfect" song and dance that turned Jillian off. But it's not douchey, because the act isn't covering anything substantial up. His hollow center wouldn't even exist without the candy shell.

The thing is, healthy relationships require a rich creamy center. Not just "oooh we had our first kiss while bungee jumping, isn't that too perfect?!"

But speaking of people who are dead inside, Ali is the next Bachelorette?! She's got corpse eyes. Even when she's crying it's like a robot trying to affect humanity. Who would apply?

And that is the main lesson to be learned here: a healthy relationship will never develop on reality television, because healthy people don't look for a relationship on reality television. Um, I'm not sure what the lesson is about people who watch these disasters waiting to happen. Probably nothing good. Damn.


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See also: Lessons From the Bachelor Volume 1

Note: These opinions are of television characters more than real people. I'm aware that you can't really get to know someone through a heavily edited, partially scripted TV show.

First Person Plural

We need to abandon the idea that each of us has one cohesive identity.

Everyone possesses multiple personalities, each with their own set of motivations, goals, and quirks.
Call them what you want, but there's always the rational part, the mind, driven by cool rationality, always thinking it's calculated what's best for you. Then there's the emotional part, the heart, driven by irrational passion. Always close by is the libido, driven by the desire to fuck and be fucked.

These identities don't always agree with each other.

John Mayer put this eloquently in his infamous Playboy interview:

"I've got a Benetton heart and a fuckin' David Duke cock. I'm going to start dating separately from my dick."

We don't all have racist cocks, but we've all experienced conflict in our attractions. A person can be perfect on paper—attractive, smart, lots in common—but the heart just doesn't supply the thumpity thump that the mind insists it should. Worse is the vice versa; someone's who's objectively oh so wrong, but the heart's on one shoulder whispering sweet lies of encouragement, while the cock's feverishly tugging on the other shoulder, insisting, yeah, the heart is right.

The research I'm doing for my PhD lends some empirical support to these ideas. The answer to a question often depends on how you ask it. If you ask someone to think the question through then write down a response, it's mostly the mind, with its smarty-pants ability to handle language, that answers. But if you ask too quickly, or too indirectly, for the mind to interject, the other identities get more of a chance to answer. And sometimes their answer is completely different than the mind's. ¹

Almost literally, each person is people. "I" is a plural pronoun.

It's why we love the werewolf (ok, maybe not all of us), and his relatives, Dr. Jekyll, Bruce Banner, and Tiger Woods. We all recognize that struggle between the rational side and the unfettered emotional side. But we're also repulsed by it; we wish there was only one cohesive personality calling the shots.

But it's the mind that figured out language, so it's the one you hear from. It's the one writing this post. The heart and libido are still on our shoulders, whispering things the mind forgets to say, but it's still the one that controls which words get out. And maybe that's why we have this illusion of a cohesive identity. The mind is the loudmouth of the group, doing all the talking, pretending it's got its shit together. But that doesn't make the others any less important in determining our actions. When it comes down to what it really means to be human, they're all equal partners.

Maybe that's okay. Maybe we should just accept it. Go with the heart's opinion one day, go with the mind's another, and let them work out a mutual agreement based on the consequences. Can't I all just get along?

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Footnotes:
Note: The title of this post is stolen from Stephen Braude.
¹ More concretely, I am speaking about implicit measures of attitudes. The technique used in my research is called the Affect Misattribution Procedure (AMP); for more information, Google up articles by Keith Payne.

Book Review: Marvellous Hairy, by Mark A. Rayner

The copy on the back of Marvellous Hairy bills it as a novel about a man who is turning into a monkey. However, it goes far beyond that. The story revolves around a giant, evil corporation nicknamed Gargantuan Enterprises, the people who want to bring it down, and before you know it, there are ghosts, kidnapping, lizards, sex, and drugs thrown in for good measure.

Let me make a confession: I don't find monkeys inherently funny. Their similarity to humans is amusing, sure, but it's been overdone. Given the premise of Marvellous Hairy, I was a bit worried that its humour would rely on "anything is funny if you mention the word monkey alongside it" school of thought. Luckily, its absurdity is only partially monkey-based, and it delivers some genuine funny. Many scenes had me smirking as hard as I have at any Douglas Adams novel (yeah, just smirking; it takes a lot for me to physically LOL at text).

A lot of the books I've reviewed recently, they've been trashily entertaining (see: Charlaine Harris), or had great ideas despite mediocre writing (see: Cory Doctorow). But Rayner is actually a damn good writer. Every paragraph is packed with clever wordplay and subtle allusions. E.g., "He had long greasy black hair that clung to his head like an octopus humping his skull" (ok ok, maybe not always subtle).

Not all is warm and fuzzy. The novel could have used some edits; the language can be wordy, the plot takes a while to get going, and a certain subplot doesn't feel like it fully connects with the rest of the story. Also, the quasi-omnipotent first-person narrative is jarring, especially when it needs to be explained, though it does add to the surreal bizarreness of the whole thing.

That is where Marvellous Hairy shines: it is such a bizarre barrel of words that you can't help but have fun reading it. Mark (full disclosure: I can go all first-name-basis because we've met IRL) recently tweeted that his next novel may be even sillier, and if that's the case, I can't wait to get my paws on whatever he comes up with.

Lenzr Update: A Tangled Web of Gourmet Food in Action

Hey remember yesterday when I said I was a sellout? Well, I'm being paid to write this post, so don't say I didn't warn you.

Lenzr is holding another set of contests where you can win some great shit just for taking pictures and entering them. The first one is Best Gourmet Food, in which, for submitting a picture of food, you can win a wine tour trip with The Wine Ladies, who run a wine blog. Not many entries yet, so with some well-placed begging for votes, you can pretty easily win. I've been encouraged to enter an ugly cake, so get on it quick.

The second one is Everyday Tangled Web, sponsored by office phone system dudes SeTeL. Post a picture of tangled junk, and you can win a bluetooth headset that looks very futuristic. Just don't wear it at Starbucks and talk to yourself about portfolios and social media strategies, or you will be a douche. Seriously.

The third is Kids in Action, sponsored by Toronto dentist Natalie Archer. You're supposed to take pictures of kids with "devil may care attitudes." Like this kid, who seems to be falling off a skateboard. Yeah, he'll probably need a dentist soon. Anyway, sacrifice your kids and you can win a tooth whitening kit. Anything to look beautiful.

These end on March 1st.

Phew, now I can afford groceries. All I've eaten today is chocolate, peanut butter, potatoes from a box, and this fish that had been sitting in my freezer for a year and exploded when I tried to microwave it. Seriously, there is fish everywhere.

...maybe I shouldn't enter that gourmet food contest after all.

Faaaaame (FAME), Lets Him Loose, Hard to Swallow

So I don't know if all y'all know this, but I'm kind of a big deal.

My other blog, Putting Weird Things in Coffee, continues to soar in popularity, bringing me the sweet thrill of hollow attention.

Today it's featured on The Seattle Times' coffee blog (of course the Seattle Times would have a whole blog devoted to coffee). Also, it seems that Spanish people love it; I don't understand half of the incoming links. Like this site, which is apparently very popular somewhere, and even comes with its own PWTIC illustration:

Reactions from my Spanish fans:

I've also done a few interviews with reporters. And one with a shock jock. 96.5 The Buzz in Kansas City had me on the Church of Lazlo show. This was my first live radio (or any media) interview ever, so I really didn't know what the hell I was doing. I sound mumbly and boring, and I accidentally lied at one point, but while the interview took a few weird turns, I think I managed to not let them make me come across like a complete freak. Find it here if you really wanna put yourself through that.

I am also happy to report my first financial benefit from the blog too. I threw up a Paypal donation link instead of putting Adsense on there (which I kinda regret now), and one very kind person took the "every cent helps" plea literally. I'm one cent richer, motherfuckers.

By the way, yes, it has gone to my head. And yes I am a complete sellout. If you're not famous, a blabbering sycophant, and/or a member of my entourage, we are no longer friends.




(In case it's not clear, I am being sarcastic. All this attention feels very strange to me, especially given how gross and stupid the whole idea of Putting Weird Things in Coffee is. I figured that it might catch on with some stranger internet folk, but the more mainstream attention is messed up. What is wrong with people? But hey, I'm just gonna enjoy this and and all the other ch-ch-changes going on right now.)




HIPER MEGA CRAP

Book Review: Freakonomics, by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner

I'll keep this short, because Freakonomics is a pretty simple book. It takes a look at various topic—the effect of names on success, drug dealer salaries, cheating in sumo wrestling, etc.—through the eyes of an economist.

This book is a few years old (and has a sequel out now), and it took me a while to get through it, mostly because it's been my "sit on the bedstand and read for a few minutes before bed" book for a long time. And that's the ideal context for it. Read a few interesting facts, go "huh, that was interesting," then put it aside and go to sleep.

There's some weird deifying of Levitt that just feels out of place, but aside from that, the authors do a good job of merging interesting anecdotes with potentially dry number crunching. The accuracy of the conclusions is sometimes questionable, though. While there is a section about the difference between correlation and causation, causal claims based on correlational data are still presented with more certainty than is warranted.

Much has been made about some of the more controversial topics in here, such as racism, and abortion. For example, they claim that legalizing abortion can lead to a drop in crime rates years afterwards. This may be true (or may not)—and certainly this fact should inform moral judgments about abortion—but the fact itself has no morality attached to it. Presenting such a fact is not a moral stance. Information itself is neutral; it's what we do with it that determines morality.

Anyway, I'd recommend Freakonomics as a nice little entertaining read for anyone interested in some offbeat conclusions that have been drawn from studying economics. I wouldn't take it any further than that.

Concerts, Connections, Careers, and Coffee

At the beginning of 2010, I sorta half-wished for a less boring, more dramatic year than 2009. So far the universe has not failed to bend to my wishes.

Case in point: this past weekend was chock full of good times with many of my favourite people¹. After a night of drinking with my besties and a morning of hung-over proctoring (a.k.a. hell), my dear friend Sarah traveled all the way from Toronto for various good times, such as seeing Andrew Austin perform at the Black Shire.

I've known Andrew and his music for a while, but it was my first time seeing him (and his band); I was blown away by how awesome it was. I highly recommend checking him out, especially live.

Here's a crappy video that doesn't do it justice.



The variety of people who showed up to the concert was staggering, especially because the night was full of mindblowing coincidental connections between them. It's a small world, and the internet makes it even smaller.

Oh and Sarah was like "we need a picture together for your blog." So uh, the lighting wasn't so good, but here is a rare picture of myself, and Sarah, looking like we're in a horror movie or something.

Oh and then, AND THEN, last night I met with even more friendly friends for a sushi party. I rolled sushi for the first time (after many hilarious "this is how I roll" and "let's roll" jokes), and it's really not as hard as they say. I could totally open a sushi restaurant.

Today I am figuring out how to find a career and spend the rest of my life. I do want my remaining days to be pleasant, so I guess this is important and exciting.

By the way this is now a blog where I just casually list everything that I've done lately. Here are 50 pictures of a shiny object I found that is pretty!

No. Never mind. It wasn't that shiny.

What else has been exciting is that Putting Weird Things in Coffee has taken off in popularity. I've been answering fan mail and even done an interview about it; it kinda feels like I'm getting my 15 minute allotment of fame. It's being linked to from all over the internet, such as Guardian.co.uk, but also this weird-ass video, in which a (n extremely hot) German chick and her baby discuss PWTIC (at about the 2:00 mark). Apparently "Phronk" is still "Phronk" in German.

So yeah. If 2010 continues being eventful, it should be one for the history books.

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¹ Another new years resolution is to use more expressions that I don't understand, such as "case in point", and "chock full." Why do cases go in points? What the eff is a chock?

Guest Post: Who Were You Born to Be?

Hello, fellow lovers of Phronk. Not that kind of lover. Actually, maybe, I don't know all of you. It's Blondie here from www.blondemonde.com. Welcome to the first guest post I have ever done on anyone's blog. Ever.

If you've been reading this blog longer than oh, a month, you'll know that Phronk just turned 30. To me, landmark birthdays are little more than numerical benchmarks in our lives. To some, they are defining points, by which we measure our life's success. Along with the man on the moon, JFK's assasination and September 11, we think we'll always remember what we were thinking on our 25th, 30th, 40th and 50th birthdays, among others. As generations come up behind us and turn these landmark ages, it spurs thoughts and memories of that time in our own lives and, in turn, bring us to how our lives are so much different now than we thought they would be.

When you were younger, where did you think you were going to be when you were 30? First of all, I thought 30 was what “old” people were like. I mean, my teachers (teachers = old in a kid's mind) were 30! In Up in the Air with George Clooney, he talks to a young coworker about where she thought she would be when she was 23, and how none of it happened. Have you ever found yourself in this situation? Have you set lofty long term goals for your life and then been disappointed when they just weren't happening?

I frequently am reevaluating my life and looking at myself objectively. I always wonder “is this who I was born to be?” and I always conclude with a resounding “yes.” I believe if I am constantly seeking a road that brings out my passion and plays to my strengths, that it will be leading me to new opportunities; I will always be who I was born to be, but that will always be changing.

In the [tremendously annoying, discouraging and frustrating] dating world, I find I am always asked “what are your goals for your life?” by new men. I hate this question. I am tremendously driven and determined, held back by very little, and have taken charge of my own life, but because I refuse to set lofty long term goals about my life, I never have an answer to this question.

While I'm only 26 and just as naive as I've always been, I'm smart enough to see that setting goals “for your life,” isn't really the answer for me. I'm not talking about “I'm going to get my PhD" (while you're starting school for it). I'm talking timeline “by the time I'm ...” What if I grow up and those goals just don't happen? I don't want to spend my time dwelling on how I don't have a husband and family, but instead I want to spend my time living to my full potential and being as happy, vibrant and satisfied as I can possibly be. I want to be who I was born to be, and I will.

What do you want to be?

- Blondie

[Phronk here. Thanks so much to Blondie for the wonderful post. Check out her and CJ at Blonde Monde; it's one of the best blogs out there. Today it features a sexy nose cast. Like a cast on a broken nose. Not a broadcast of someone's nose. Yeah.]

Ch-Ch-Ch-ChiAAHHHH OH NOOO

Sad news, everyone. My beloved Chia Pet, who has stood by my side through thick and thin for nearly an entire month, has passed on to ceramic statue heaven.

Here he is in his last days. Still smiling! I always enjoyed his positive attitude.

Yeah, maybe he would have been able to squeeze in a few more weeks if I'd provided him with luxuries like warmth and water. But sometimes you just feel when it's time for your loved ones to go. Like when you gradually replace grandpa's heart medicine with sugar pills. Oh come on, we've all been there.

I've still got quite a few seeds left. I was going to scrape him off and create a new best friend, but then I came across What I Like to Do With Chia Seeds.

Spoiler alert: what she likes to do is eat them.

All you do is add a "liquid of your choice" to the seeds, then eat up. I'll feel bad munching on Homer's little brothers' and sisters' gametes¹, but apparently it's nutritious. Of course, my liquid of choice has always been coffee, so don't be surprised if you see this on Putting Weird Things in Coffee.

By the way, with that blog and this one, there are many exciting things happening right now. The first of which you will probably see the fruits of tomorrow, if you come back, WHICH YOU WILL.

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¹ Speaking of which...

Guns N' Roses (with Danko Jones & Sebastian Bach) at the John Labatt Centre, Jan. 25 2010

I got a wonderful last-minute surprise yesterday when I suddenly found myself with tickets to a Guns N' Roses show (thanks to @London_Events on Twitter; yes, I somehow won again).

The lineup at the John Labatt Centre was longer than Slash's top hat (LOL SEMI-APPROPRIATE METAPHOR) so we missed most of Danko Jones. I have a vague memory of seeing him once before and getting the impression that he's a huge douchetard, so no big loss I guess.

Sebastian Bach took the stage next. He is best known for his work in Gilmore Girls Trailer Park Boys Skid Row. Bach rocked songs old and new, all the while flailing that silky mane of hair.

He chided the anti-camera security staff, encouraging use to take videos. Then he did this about five more times. As if Youtube views are the only thing that's keeping him going. Well, here you go Sebastian:



There was an hour wait between Bach and GnFnR. Luckily some upstanding citizens took it upon themselves to entertain the crowd with their assets. By assets I mean boobs. And also asses.

When Axl hit the stage, the only explanation for the delay was some mumbled speech about accepting responsibility and the risk of mixing alcohols. But whether he knew where he was or not, he could hope across that stage and belt out those songs like it was 1987.

They played a near-perfect blend of songs; just enough new songs to make me want to finally buy Chinese Democracy, and all the old expected favourites. The band may not be the original lineup, but they were incredible; Axl frequently sprinted off the stage to give solo band members their time in the spotlight. Still, it's a little telling that Slash's job had to be split up between several guitarists.



After two and a half hours of non-stop rock, the lights came up and the audience stumbled through a haze of pot smoke and trickling rivers of spilled beer, while Axl toasted to his cock and handed out a round of shots. Rock and roll doesn't get much better than that.


See also:

• BRay's take on the show.
• The London Free Press's review.

Best Comments Ever, Volume 1

This blog is all about me. Even if nobody read it, it would still exist due to my pathological need to turn thoughts into words. However, the fact that you are reading this is a gravy-like bonus, and when you take the additional time to comment, well, that sort of interaction one of the best parts about this whole internet thing.

A lot of people don't pay attention to comments, but they should, because at least around here, the comments often upstage the crap I post. So I'm thrusting some of you into the spotlight. Here are some comments that made me laugh/cry/cringe recently.

In response to yesterday's Miley-centric post, Hey Lady! said...

I think the song is just infectious... like a disease, no one WANTS to catch the flu, but you know, you're at a party, a bunch of other people have it, next thing you know you're laying on the bathroom floor wishing for death. This song, same thing.

My Chia Pet is now dying, I am sad to report, but at least he elicited these responses. Katrina said...

That Homer Chia is really freaking me out. I can't handle what's going on on his face. Seriously, I couldn't stop staring at it -- it's like a train wreck. The image is seared into my brain.

And Jay Ferris said...

At least we now know what the serial rapist offspring of Homer Simpson and Swamp Thing would look like.

In the informative and well-recieved post Sixty Nine Reasons to Avoid Tall, Dark and Handsome, Evilflu said...

Oh man! My new work monitor now has diet coke spit all over it and people are staring at me like I'm caveman lady or something. Those are the bestest pictures ever...sort of :/ oh yeah, guess I should say something about tall guys now...tall guys are easy to tip over...and sometimes they are scary.

Finally, responding to the Body Worlds post, Rick "The Hat" Bman related this related story...

So, I have never been to a Body Worlds exhibit but I do have a good Body Worlds story. A few years back I worked for a manufacturing plant and one day a delivery truck making his normal delivery also unloaded a bit coffin size metal box onto our loading dock and then just left with no explanation as to what it was. The address label had been torn off so we had no idea what it was so we had to open it (pic of box).

Imagine our surprise to open the box and find body parts. Now we didn't know that it was part of the Body Worlds exhibit yet, we just knew it was a box of body parts. Now my boss decided that we have to keep it secure until we can find the rightful owner. Now, where do you think the most secure room in the building is? Why that would be the computer room, where I work.

So for two days I got to work with a giant box of body parts in my office. Keep in mind we had no idea what they were just that they were body parts. Luckily my boss was able to figure out that they were part of that exhibit and then find out which museum it was supposed to go to. I had never heard of the exhibit at that time so it just kind of freaked me out.

The best part though. One of the girls that worked there hadn't heard about it and came into my office and sees the box and asks what was in it. I told her she didn't want to know. She says "What is it, a body?" and I said "Well, it is parts of a body any way." She got kind of freaked and ran out of the office very quickly.

Wow.

If you have commented and were not featured here, don't fret; it is solely because there is limited space, and because you are not very interesting. Try again, because there will be a volume 2. I love you all.

Nodding My Hips Like Yeah

My favourite song of all time you ask? Yeah, I'd say it's still Party in the USA.

I've had Miley's sweet voice stuck in my head for days at a time. I'd almost managed to shake it when Miss.Tint sent me this impressive live performance:



Er. If I were butterflies, I'd fly away too.

And here is a creepy-ass "remix" created by old friend Cailen:



Is it just me, or when a song has been rattling around in your head all day, do you start adding in new words to spice it up a bit?

Motherfuckin HAAANDS UP



;lkdsjf

Tweeting With the Stars, Volume 4 - Deepak Chopra

If you don't do Twitter, here is the conversation expanded and translated into IRL-speak:

Deepak Chopra: "Before particles and waves are observed they exist as transcendent potentia in the field. The field interacting with its own self creates particles waves and the physical world. The field is non physical transcendent. It is a field of possibilities. Your core consciousness is the field."

Me: "One thing I've learned from Twitter is that Deepak Chopra doesn't understand physics."

Deepak Chopra: "Yes I do. Come to my $2000.00 conference."

A word of explanation: I have nothing against Deepak Chopra personally, and I appreciate him taking the time to reply to my remark. I am convinced that he is genuine in his beliefs and truly wants to help people.

The problem is that many of his beliefs simply don't correspond to reality. It's like he gained a basic understanding of quantum physics, then made up a bunch of stuff out of thin air to connect it with his own (also made-up) ideas about consciousness. When fantasy is allowed to slip into beliefs, you end up washing your eyes with the spit off your toothbrush.

If you read Chopra's Twitter stream, a lot of it ends up sounding like The Sphinx from Mystery Men; deep-sounding but ultimately shallower than a puddle of toothbrush spit.

Spirituality is important. I love that Chopra endorses exploring the intersection between spirituality and science, because the two need not be mutually exclusive and the world would be better if we tore down that wall. But presenting tentative spiritual guesses as scientific facts does measurable harm. I'm glad he was at least open to my speaking out against it.

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See also:

• Tweeting With the Stars Volume 3 (Bree Olson)
• Tweeting With the Stars Volume 2 (James Gunn)
• Tweeting With the Stars Volume 1 (Sasha Grey)