Givin' the People What They Ask For

So the other day I had a little free time, and was checking out some stats on this blog. I can't help it folks, blogstat checking is kind of part of my job nowadays, so it's kind of bound to spill over into my everyday life too.

Anyhow, I noticed two very interesting things:

1) Far and away, the most popular and re-visited postings are my cranky old codger rants. Seems that an angry Bill is Bill at his top form. Seems to me that I have a knack for tirades that are at least moderately entertaining.

2) A vast majority of my older postings are friggin' entertaining. I'm not saying that the last few month's worth of posts, infrequent as they may be, aren't solid. But man, there was some grade-A dynamite back in the archives.


So in that spirit, I'm going to treat you to a little brief sendup of a new trend. I feel as if some time in the past I voiced my distaste for the high-waisted jeans that had crept into the fashion world like a year back or so. There are some things from the seventies that didn't need to come back, and those are definitely one of them in my book. Still, I was a good boy. I kept my mouth shut for the most part. I chalked it up to the fact that I'm a guy and I just didn't find them to be especially attractive on, well, anyone. But there's a new trend folks, and I get it even less: the boyfriend jean.

Yes, yes, yes, I get it kids. Androgynous dressing is all the rage. Hipster boys are squeezing into girls' jeans all over the place. Folks are looking to date others with similar builds so that they can double their wardrobe. I can hear the battle cry now: "gay guys have been doing it for years, why can't us heteros adopt the trend?" But folks, it's time to put my foot down. Take a look for yourselves:


I know, it's probably just a backlash against the insanity of skinny jeans, which have gotten to the point that they resemble sausage casings more than articles of clothing, but come on. Wearing baggy jeans with holes in them don't make you look stylish, it makes you look like you don't give a fuck about what you look like. It's ironic; isn't the baggy jeans/not giving a shit thing something that females have given guys grief about for years. If I showed up to work or to the bar or anything else, would I not be ridiculed if I had on baggy, ripped-up jeans? So how the hell does it work that because major designers suddenly said "get this look" and now every friggin woman is all abuzz about how wonderful it is.

Let me be blunt: ladies, when you wear jeans that appear two sizes too big and "distressed" you don't look hot, you kinda look like a hobo from the waist down. Especially when it's paired with some super-cool chic top and nice shoes.

In short, "boyfriend jeans" are cute when they're actually your boyfriend's. And even then, it's only cute to him. And it's only cute to him because when you're in his pants, that means he has a great chance of getting into your pants. And not in the hipster "I wear my girlfriend's skinny jeans because it might accent my junk" way, either.

One for the Ages

I think I have found, officially, the ugliest article of clothing known to man, woman, child, or beast.


As my co-worker describes them: the crack house caught on fire and all that could be salvaged was a pair of boots and a pair of jeans...but they kinda became one in the same.

Bask in the hideous, folks. Bask in iiiiiit.

Being Sick

Tonight, I reveal a little character flaw in my life: I put no stock whatsoever in being sick. I recognize that people get ill. I recognize that people need extra sleep when they are ill and need to take care of themselves when that happens. However, unless you are displaying many signs of being really friggin' ill, I believe it's all in your head. Not that I call people liars, I just feel like too many people allow themselves to completely shut down when they don't feel good. It's really an issue of mind over matter, and it's the fine difference between "being sick" and "fighting something off" -- if you never let yourself "be sick" then you are always fighting it.

However, I'm a unique case study as well because when I get sick, I'm not like the vast majority of people who want someone to take care of them. Rather, when I am sick, I want to be left the hell alone. I think that is my general imperative towards solitude, which is nothing new, but the last thing I want is someone checking with me if I'm laid up. I just want to be left alone to drift in and out of consciousness as I see necessary.

So, for you folks who are all "oh, I had a little fever and just felt really run down so I am taking a day or two to rest and recuperate" I'm sorry, I just don't go for it. Granted, I put my body through a pretty rigorous battery of shitty food, inconsistent sleep schedules, and drinking. This regimen, paired with my rugged Swedish heritage, keeps me rather impervious to all but some of the more major illnesses these days. To all you sickly Sallies out there, I say "sack up, take some ibuprofen, drink fluids, and power through. The society will be better off for it."

Erin Go Bragh!!! Have a great St. Patty's!

Apparently You Can't Judge A Book By It's Title Either

I gotta warn you folks, I'm a little fired up tonight. See, I just finished reading a ridiculously long book (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, not bad, but 780 pages was a bit much) and so as the end was nearing, I began to get a little antsy, and I started anticipating my next read. I'd kept my wish list fairly manageable, and went on a little post-birthday spree, picking up a handful of choice titles that should keep me interested for at least the next few weeks.

So yesterday I finish the book, reward myself by reading "Summer Blonde" a graphic novel by Adrian Tomine, which was really good. I liked it more than "Sleepwalk" the previous book of his which I'd read. Still nihilistic, but not quite as much meaningless violence and angst. So after enjoying that so immensely, I looked forward to starting in on a new novel for some pleasure reading.

This morning I took the bus in and started reading my new selection, The Average American Male. So far, it's been an epic letdown. I was hoping for something akin to Love Monkey, a nice kind bildungsroman which examines what it's like to be a single gent in trying times, trying to find some happiness, maybe even figuring out what in the hell it is that women want. You know - the type of stuff that I can relate to. Thus far it has been an incredibly quick read, since I'm more than two thirds of the way through the book in the first day. Still, that may prove to be a good thing: because where I was hoping to find fun or silly self-deprecating writing that I so associate with the contemporary navel-gazing styles of writing, what do I find? This fucking book filled with chauvinistic fratboy drivel. I can get a kick from time to time when I read or hear tidbits of stories like these. However, thus far this book has been about 175 pages of "trying to fuck bitches", playing XBox, talking about "fags" and "retards" and other similarly inane shit. I tell ya, how in the hell this guy became a spokesman-type for my generation. Previous generations had guys like Hemingway, Kerouac, Bukowski, and Raymond Carver. Who do me and my folks have? Tucker Max and this hack. Clearly, I have no issues with hyper-masculine writers, and am generally nonplussed by authors who spout a little sexism or whatnot. But when you try to convince people that "the average American male" does nothing but spank the monkey a dozen times a day when he's not playing video games, that's when I start to get impatient and offended.

I'm not one to attack an author usually, but this is one of those special situations. I can only hope against hope that the book resolves in some great plot twist; maybe the protagonist will catch syphilis and lose his mind. Maybe he'll get brutally stabbed and realize what a shallow waste his life is. But, assuming the last eighty pages go the way of the first hundred and eighty, I will be insanely let down by even choosing this book. So let me just summarize the whole idea of this post: if you want to see how oversexed jocks view the world, read this book. If you want to see how real males view the world, read Love Monkey. You'll have a hell of a lot of fun, and you'll really understand what's going on when women ask men "what are you thinking?" and men reply "nothing." Then again, I tend to be thinking about nothing most of the time.

Where Loving Son Meets Hipster Music Snob

Chances are, the vast majority of you who read this blog already know this, but for those of you who don't: my sister is getting married in just under three weeks. Naturally, this means that the whole family has been abuzz over all the proceedings for weeks now. As I am always wont to do, I am staying as far as humanly possible from all these discussions, plannings, and all that. It's not that I don't know how: I think my best man experience clearly speaks for itself. Rather, I just find that it's best to have as little as possible to do with family decision making, especially in matters that don't really directly affect me one way or the other.

I have been given a chance to inject a little interest and some cred to the ceremony by doing a reading, and I'm looking for something that isn't 1st Corinthians 13 or Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. I actually look forward to the chance to find something that isn't trite or played-out.

However, there's one aspect of this wedding that, being the musical know-it-all that I am, I am inadvertently getting dragged into, and I couldn't be any less happy about it all. See, I am a self-admitted, self-realized music snob. I like a wide range of bands that most haven't heard of, and I always have a little tiny shred of self-satisfaction when I can drop the name of a band that others haven't heard of before. Paired with this is a general dislike for a range of bands who I consider to be on the boring side of music. But I digress... Back to the subject: my dad is trying to pick out a song for the father-daughter dance. The problem with this is, my parents keep asking me about if I have songs to recommend. Being the musical snob that I am, I naturally have a ton of songs that I think could possibly work, but the bigger issue is the fact that my dad's knowledge of usable songs stops with much of anything written after 1975.

So now I have to patiently explain to my parents from time to time that, chances are, I do not have what song they are looking for. Nope, I don't own any Better Midler albums (does any hetero man under 30?). Sorry, I don't know that song that was a duet from Peabo Bryson that may have been in a Disney musical. I'm afraid that the next request is going to involve Yanni or John Tesh. Hell, I actually find it promising that he's moved away from John Denver, more towards Neil Diamond.

I tell ya, I feel just like Jack Black in High Fidelity when the guy comes in and asks for a record of "I Just Called To Say I Love You" but at least that guy wasn't his blood relative.

From the Lost Phrases Department

Most of you who follow this blog know my unwavering love of verbosity. I'm always getting hung up on certain words and phrases, some new, some old, that just float my boat for one way or another. As a matter of fact, I had about a fifteen minute conversation with a coworker about our mutual love for the term "underpants" (a long-time Bill favorite for all you who know me).

One phrase that hopped out at me earlier this week is one that I don't remember having heard in ages... and I began to wonder: why doesn't anyone use the term "make a pass at" any more? I've always felt this is one of the more sophisticated and sensible terms with regards to courtship and all that jazz. I'd much rather say I made a pass at someone than I tried to get digits, or I attempted to cop a feel. That's also one of the inherent wonders of that phrase - it's so non-specific. It can be something as innocent as trying to strike up a conversation with someone who you find attractive, and can be something as nefarious as to proposition someone. I'll also tell you this much: making a pass at someone is only about a thousand times classier than spitting game at someone.

Sadly, even entering "make a pass at someone" in the search engine of your choice yields odd and varied results: you have things like "make it happen on the pass line" in reference to craps, also "how to make someone pass out". Naturally, there are a ton of sports "making a pass" articles and images, making time pass, and even how to literally make a pass, in this case "pass" being some type of handbill, like a movie pass. It's really sad.

So, this weekend, when you're out with your friends, let the phrase drop. Just be like "oh, I think I'm going to go make a pass at that girl/guy" or "do you believe that? He/she just tried to make a pass at me!" I can all but guarantee it'll make your outing a little more fun and exciting.

Separated At Birth?

You know how I love these things.

So, dude over at Fuck You, Penguin (a genuinely amusing cute animal blog) posted this picture of a Tibetan Fox on his blog, and described it as looking "like the asshole boyfriend of the girl the main guy wants in an 80s movie"


As I stared deep into the cold eyes, mocked by the nearly-comic smirk on this little fella, fully aware of the smug sense of superiority this animal possesses... suddenly it hit me. Much like Darth Vader spawning Luke Skywalker, I know who is really the father of this fox....

That's right. James Spader. Look at those two side-by-side and try and tell me I'm wrong.

How to Name Anything Hipster-Related

Hey Kids, just a quick one before I call it a night...

I have had an ongoing thing with my friend Courtney about band names, and how she believes that having a long, drawn-out name or one that just doesn't seem to make much sense immediately gives them hipster cred. You know what I'm talking about... bands like:

- Margot & the Nuclear So-and-Sos
- Godspeed You! Black Emperor
- Les Savy Fav
- The Airborne Toxic Event
- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
- Does It Offend You, Yeah?

(Yes, hipster mafia, I realize that the last two are references to a book and a movie, respectively. thankyouverymuch)

So you can really have some fun with your friends while you're sitting around killing time, or if you find you want to get a way to get your creative juices flowing, just start rambling some off. I'll get you started, and if you want, you can visit http://www.bandnamemaker.com/ for more fun times. A few starter ideas to get the creative juices flowing:

- Unicorn Warhammer (this was the name of a softball team for a few friends of mine... we won't talk about their logo)
- Alice in Wonderbra (alas, the ska band I never formed)
- The Girl in the Horn-Rimmed Glasses
- Nintendo Power Generation (though I'm sure this might raise some copyright issues)
- Horseshoe Crab Nebula


If you've got one (or several) hit it up in the comment section - I might talk a band into changing names, or you might be credited with naming the band, book, or anything else of someone you don't even know!

Have a good night, folks!