The Most Interesting Person in the World

Archive for June 2010

Last weekend I spent some time with someone you wouldn’t think was much of a thinker just by spending time with him, but it turns out he is, and he said some pretty insightful things. He’s single, and one comment he made was, “If anybody’s going to have a bachelor party, it should be me.” After all, now is the perfect time for him to get drunk and look at naked people or whatever. The time when he is engaged and in love (well, hopefully those two will be connected) and about to get married–that is NOT the time to go to a strip club.

Another comment he made was that our society’s obsession with sex isn’t even about sex at all. Now that comment didn’t make sense to me until this weekend, when I attended a bachelorette party at a strip club.

One thing I noticed is that, despite all the hype from the ladies on the bus about seeing… male anatomy, barely any was to be had. The lap dancers quickly removed their pants, did a little dance, and put their pants back on and walked away, all the while keeping their underwear on, or merely tugging at it once in a while. Now it might be the case that a man’s body is inherently not as pretty to look at as a woman’s, but still. This just isn’t fair. If female strippers have to bear all, then men should too, ugly bodies or not.

Another thing is the look of these guys. Imagine walking into a room full of Ken dolls. They have some kind of sheen on their skin. I imagine Frankenfurter would be pleased, but to me it just looks fake. As fake as the smiles plastered onto their faces, faces glazed over as they hide thoughts of Bermuda or sports or men or wherever these men actually are, because it’s certainly not here, with all these groups of women, showing off their bodies as if it were some external accessory.

It must be so hard for strippers and prostitutes to be in relationships. Making love feels like work. I bet they can only dates other strippers and prostitutes. They want someone they can go home to and just cuddle.

Which reminds me of the original point I was making. My friend’s observation about this culture. Now it might be different for a women’s strip club, but the experience I had with the shiny, happy men was that the audience was there more for the novelty of being in a strip club than actually being turned on. They were there to fill a void, or to say they’ve been to a strip club, or, for the majority of these women, because they were at bachelorette parties. And in a group of your friends, it’s very awkward to be turned on. In fact, one woman actually was having a good time, and a friend of hers took photographic evidence of that, which now could very well be on the Internet for all the world to see… so not cool.

So my conclusion: Strip clubs — not the place for sexiness. If you’re feeling a void that you think a strip club can solve, you’re in need of love, my friend. And, if you have love, don’t go to a strip club. Come to an improv class.

Awww… look at the cute little…

Ahhhhhh! It’s got freaky red eyes! And legs that look like it’s about to attack!

I wouldn’t go near this thing. See how it overpowers that tall grass? It’s obviously taller than any human! And it looks carnivorous!

Stuff. There’s so much of it. It’s weighing me down.

Without it, I could have probably moved into my own tiny bedroom by now. I would really love to follow Gandhi’s advice and only own enough that could fit into one suitcase. Alas, I am a packrat, and I can’t bear to see perfectly good, no-longer-useful stuff go to waste.

I just saw a video that validated my entire existence. It is the story of stuff, and it can be found on this website.

It comes at a perfect time: Tonight’s improv class is followed by a Free Stuff Swap, in which we skip the Extraction, Production, and Distribution stages to get straight to Consumption (of something someone else no longer uses) and proper disposal (of something you keep around just because you don’t want it to go to waste. Or, at least, that’s why I keep things around.)

Anyway, tonight I plan to bring a box of stuff, including a bag of stuffed animals. So bring your old CDs, DVDs, books, and grunge sweaters, and I’ll see you there!

Okay, I lied. I showed this video to my mom. She totally doesn’t get why I’m so proud of it.

On the plus side, my friends like it.

Check this out and let me know what you think:

Okay, folks. I’m about to do something I’ve never done before. It’s not just that I’m going to give my opinion about this twitter thing–I’ve done that before. Oh no. I’m going to write about this twitter thing. But for the first time ever, I actually know what I’m writing about.

This is something I’ve been kicking and screaming against for a while. But looking back at my experiences with technology, I’ve been kicking and screaming a lot. I kicked and screamed against having a cell phone, but now it’s my primary phone number (much to my chagrin). I kicked and screamed against using e-mail, but now I can’t imagine getting as much done without it (plus it’s good for the environment). And as for getting a smart phone… well, that was an easy sell, because that meant I didn’t have to spend as much time in front of a computer.

So now I have a twitter account. I can’t believe it. I started by looking up all kinds of friends, funny commenters, and representatives of diverse groups I want to be reminded of regularly (I already found a ReBoot list, plus I’m following the Dalai Lama, which I think makes me cool.) There are a lot of Lauren Steins, and I chose which one I wanted to follow. One thing I’m already annoyed by is people who tweet too much. It clogs up my airwaves. Soon I realized that if I start following people, they might look at my account and decide in 2 seconds whether they want to follow me back, so I’d better put up some sample content. And in two days, I tweeted 8 times. Hey, guess who I am now? One of those people I hate!

I found a comment on my blog today that cheered me right up. It said:

“Just want to say what a great blog you got here! I’ve been around for quite a lot of time, but finally decided to show my appreciation of your work! Thumbs up, and keep it going! Cheers”

It just warmed the cockles of my heart right up. Finally, someone I don’t know has read my blog. I’m an Internet celebrity for sure. I have a hidden admirer.

Why did my spam filter pick it up as spam*? Silly spam filter, I amused out loud. Why would you ever think something so flattering, so obviously true, could be canned unkosher meat?

My friend, who happens to be in the room as I mused aloud, suggested I do a Google search for part of that phrase. So I did. And it turns out, my admirer really is chopped pork shoulder meat with ham meat added, salt, water, modified potato starch as a binder, and sodium nitrite to help keep its colour. That comment, with the exact phrasing, is all over the ‘net. That comment is a slut.

Well, maybe the comment just has good taste. I mean, even if it does get around, what are the chances that piece of Spam Oven Roasted Turkey would make its way over to my blog? Obviously, somebody likes me, I don’t care if it’s an automatically-generated message for the purpose of pulling readers (and me) to its weird website. I have an admirer, and that’s all I need to know.

*Lauren does not endorse spam; so why does everyone else on the Internet?