Your Hand In Mine

As a guy I have the astonishing ability to be both a gentleman and a shallow jerk.

You see, I know a lot of random facts about a lot of random things. Sometimes I study random books just because I want to know something thoroughly. Which means I have to do a full personal research endeavor until I am satisfied with my own conclusion, and that applies to everything. Most people would say that is a good thing, and see it as very intelligent or driven. Assuming I don't go all Rob Bell on everyone, and create a crazy book that contradicts everything.

However, on the opposite plain I have a Kevin Bacon(Tremors) style list of what kind of girl I would date hidden in a secret location in my car. Which means from now on, any girl I talk to will be working her way down a checklist that she doesn't even know exists. That isn't nice, but hey. Kevin Bacon did it so what can I do? He's a man's man.

So where does that put me on the scale of Bad Guys vs Good Guys?

At like a Heath Ledger in Ten Things I Hate About You? I'm kind of a jerk, but at the end you find out I'm a really deep guy?

Because I think I'm going for a Ryan Gosling in The Notebook style. Where I'm really awesome, you love me, I love you, but you end up being crazy and I'm okay with it kind of thing.

I might even settle for Brad Pitt from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Where there is something clearly wrong with me, but I'm too adorable for you to not love me, and everything works out fine...in a weird I reverse age and die kind of way.

I thought about referencing Leo from Titanic, but I thought since all anyone really remembers from that movie is the nude scene, and his untimely death; I would rather not.

Why does every love story seemingly end with one of us dying or having alzheimers?
Someone needs to write Taylor Swift and tell her she has mislead an entire generation. Her song should realistically end, "It's a love story, baby just say, "yes" annndddd that you will stop time traveling, because I keep forgetting who you are, and you have to retell me the story every single day, and I think you are slowly getting younger and that is kind of weird...It's act 5 do I drink the poison and you use the dagger or vice versa? I forget."

Either way, I will be your Romeo if you will be my Juliet, or in this case, I will be your Ryan Gosling if you will be my Rachel McAdams.

Just let me work out a bit, and start an acting career, and get a role in a Nicholas Sparks movie.

Seriously, I can do this. Give me like a week, and we can journey off into our own anti-climactic tragic love story. It will be beautiful. In a terrible kind of way.

You Can't Spell Crap Without 'C'

Today, I may have saved the world.

It all started this morning when I spent 3+ hours talking with various Verizon employees as to why my phone hates me. I guess I should have seen this coming. You see, my phone has been dropping subtle hints as to it's evil nature ever since I received it shortly after it's shipment into the Americas. This ladies and gentlemen, is what lead me to believe my phone was a terrorist.

One glaring example is that since it is a smart phone, occasionally you have to remove it's battery to perform what is called a "soft reset." I like to think of it as a nice power nap for my phone. Except there is one small problem, I had to get small sharp objects to shimmy the battery out of it's cozy little slot. After doing this in front of a Verizon employee he began screaming and violently waving his hands. 

Evidently, my phone is the only phone he had seen that came without an easily removable battery, but that isn't the punchline. It's a lithium battery, which means me stabbing around it could result in an explosion...a big one.

Another piece of irrefutable evidence of my phones guilty terrorist-ness is that my T9 makes me appear to be a terrible person. So if I ever text you, and I try and ask, "what are you cooking?" Without fail my phone will use it's evil powers to change it to "what are you choking?" To which my poor taste in friends would probably reply with, A: "a puppy," or B: "your entire family and your dog." Which I presume my evil phone would reply to with a dark and sinister, "lawl."

So needless to say when my phone started acting even stranger today and wasn't allowing me to converse with other people, I saw it as a threat. I immediately ran to the nearest Verizon store, and begged them to help to which they replied, "Sir, your phone is the spawn of Satan."(not kidding)

Great. So it doesn't work, and it's the Anti-Christ? I feel so blessed to play this part in world history.

I called everyone I knew and warned them of the impending doom, but no one would believe me. Even Harold Camping mocked me, and that just isn't okay. I went to the police and they thought I was crazy. I went to the FBI, and they gave me a line to the President. Finally a break. Obama kindly told me the best way to solve this problem is to dump it off the side of a boat into international waters. That way all the other Motorola Droid's couldn't go to it's grave, and make it some sort of terroristic smart phone shrine. Genius, but there had to be a simpler way.

What did I do you ask? Well, the only thing a good-apple-pie-eating-red-blooded-american could do. I outsourced, and called the Verizon hotline in India. 

My phone is fine now!

Yay for being anti-climactic!

...*awkward silence*...

We R Who We R

I listen to some pretty crazy hardcore music at times, and people usually either love it, hate it, or scream, "TO HELL WITH THE DEVIL" and run out. My personal favorite was when an older guy came up to me and asked, "what's that really low noise that it keeps making? It goes doo doo doo." I sat and thought, "Uhm bass?" He replied, "Yeah make that stop, it hurts."

However, you know why I started even listening to my awesome scenester music to begin with? No, it isn't because I was trying to cover up the years prior where I openly endorsed N'SYNC, or because I think I may have at some point owned a Nickelback cd. Sorry world but in actuality; Freshman year I had a crush on a girl, and guess what she listened to? Yeah, that's right. I listen to an entire genre of music to this day because I tried to be cool my freshman year.

So before we go and bust out our nostalgic Underoath and Hawthorne Heights shirts let's figure this out.

When I was a sophomore I used to have my dad drop me off at the local shows every weekend. You know what happened there? Sex, drugs, and rock n roll. Also, there was alcohol...loooooooots of alcohol, and Black and Milds everywhere. I never did any of it. I just listened to the music and left every single week. I wanted so badly to be cool, but I didn't want the consequences of the idiocy that came with it.

Is that who I am? If so, I am a poser.

When I was dating a particular girl who dressed up every single week for church. Over the course of time I began to also dress up out of respect. Now we are no longer together, and guess what? I show up rocking my skinny jeans, my Rob Bell-esqe glasses, and with my Bible on my phone(gasp!).

If that's who I am? Then who was I? A poser.

At the end of the day I think somehow my journey from punk scenester to Bible college student to who I am now will come in handy someday. However, for right now all I have are stories about listening to Ohio Is For Lovers at 3am, and lighting a chair on fire for no reason in my dorm with my roommates in college. Pyromania is not an appropriate pasttime, but a fantastic Def Leppard album.

If we are all the product of our decisions, and all mine have shaped me into this. What have I become?
If everything happens for a reason yet I remain the same at the core. Who am I?

Myself.

Love Rhymes With Hideous Carwreck

In the beginning there was a man and a woman, and everything was awesome for a while;
And then it wasn't.

I'm currently enjoying the phase of my life that only a small percentage of people really get to take part in; The "everyone is getting married except for me" phase. Which is interesting considering my compilation of past relationships. Maybe I should have bought more roses, and been less witty and charming. Or exchanged all of my writing for a medical degree. That would probably help. Sarcasm probably isn't helping me here is it ladies?

I evidently suffer from a debilitating disease called "wildly overly romantically minded."
Also called WORM, but I like saying the whole thing because of the ly's.
I was even recently informed that if I dated someone like myself we would never get anything done.
Which is possibly true, but dang that would be an interesting mix of awesome.

We would practically be a rainbow frolicking through a field of happiness-filled-lollipops on unicorns.
Enjoy that mental image.

I just for once want to get to do car karaoke with someone besides Franklin. Not that that isn't loads of fun, but I feel a soprano would add some nice tone. Especially when we are trying to dual vocal Remembering Sunday by All Time Low. We love the song, but we sound incredibly gay, and that also isn't helping me here.

Maybe I can find someone that thinks my vast taste in music is a positive trait, and they won't judge my Blink-182 to Ke$ha to The Band Perry playlist. There is nothing wrong with it! It's called Punkapopatry.

However, I'm okay with whatever. I can always just be like House and snap, and drive my car into one of my ex's houses in a fit of rage.

When I asked a friend what went wrong in my prior relationships I expected an extensive game informer style walkthrough. Where he would say, "well Lance if you had just done this," or "if you guys had had a better prayer life," or even "if Jesus liked you guys together it will work out," but no.

He replied with candor,

"You fell in love, jack-ass."

Ladies, and Gentlemen. My Brother the Failure.

Okay, so I am pretty positive everyone I have ever met became a part of a giant bet riding on my ability to make bad decisions. Yeah, that's right. I'm on to you.

I see the way you watch me when I go into Hastings to see if I pick up one of those 'bad Christian' books; Or ask how I'm doing just to see if I reply, "Oh not too good. You see I'm in kind of a bad place right now. What with my vast amounts of crack cocaine and scantily clad women in my life it is really hard for me to focus."

Of course no one would actually do this in real life that would be far too obvious. 

So today, I'm going to give you a gift.

Ten Steps To Make Your Facebook Unlurkable

1) Best way to create an ambiguous page is to describe what you are thinking with incredibly vague lyrics. That way they have to not only google the song lyrics, but also attempt to see how the lyrics, "This place about to blow-ow-ow-ow-ow" apply to your life. Are you a terrorist? Is this some kind of crazy jihad remix? Who knows. You just became incredibly edgy.

2) Never reply 'attending' when invited to an event, only the iffy 'maybe attending'. Even if the event is the end of the world. Never admit where you are going to be, only insinuate that you may be interested...sort of.

3)Only upload webcam pictures of yourself making funny faces. This is a lurkers worst nightmare. You see a lurkers bread and butter is clicking 'enter' through every single one of your pictures since the beginning of time. If every picture you have is relatively the same you are practically driving his pasttime into the ground, unless he/she's a webcamifile. If that is the case expect a "Wanna Skype?!???" message very quickly.

4)Actually to build off of 3 do you have a baby? Or relatively cute animal? Make them your profile picture. Nuff said.

5)Speak in code to your friends. Only talk within the confines of incredibly obscure inside jokes. "You going to the Oogly moogly today?" Reply: "Bahahaha oh gurl u no I only go back to the smackity doo bop." Your lurker is literally reading a dictionary right now to try and understand you.

6) When you are 'liking' different pages throw in a curve ball every once in a while. For example, after you 'like' "Waking Up To Watch The Sunrise :)" also like "Lithuanian Goat Mating Corporation". You just blew someones mind.

7)Upload a video of you dancing...badly. Not just once mind you, but on a monthly basis. Nothing says desperate for attention like a bad dancer, and lurkers don't like desperate. They stick to the philosophy of, "You must not know 'bout me. You must not know 'bout me I can have another you by tomorrow. So don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable"
Lurkers loooove Beyonce.

8) Bad Grammar. Having no respect for the different "Their, They're, There"'s will break your lurkers heart. Stupid isn't cute. Or lurkable. Post something like, "i h8 traffik lites! there sooooo dumb!" My heart hurts after allowing myself to type that.

9)THE MOST COMMON TURN OFF IN INTERNET SPEAK IS THE CLASSIC CAPS LOCK. DOESN'T THIS MAKE YOU TENSE? CAN YOU HEAR ME YELLING AT YOU? BECAUSE I AM. I FEEL LIKE I NEED TO TYPE REBECCA BLACK LYRICS. WE SO EXCITED. FUN FUN FUN FUN!

10)Like other peoples status' at random. "Jim is out dancing tonight." *like*. Uh oh, now you are okay with Jim the sporadic dancer fulfilling his addiction. 1 hour later. "Jenny(Jim's wife) I wish my husband would come home :(" *like*. Whoa whoa whoa. Whose side are you on exactly? Later that week when the event "Jim's Intervention" comes up be sure and put 'maybe attending', and post the status; "JUST DANCE. IT'S GONNA BE OKAY. DOO DOO DOO!"

Ghost Man On Third

Sometimes it feels like every decision you make puts the weight of the world on your shoulders. You feel like one wrong move, and you may literally crush yourself beneath a metaphorical earth.
I'm there.
I have T-Minus 2 months to reconfigure my entire life into some reasonable future I have to live out for the next..well, life?

I need a job.
A home.
A school.
And a new entourage to back me up at all times.
Preferably taller and more intimidating than me so I don't have to fight off the hordes of crazies myself.

Trust me, I was just there.
In a matter of 45 minutes I was asked for a cigarette, a quarter, stalked by an elderly woman for half a block, and had to walk by an all black church preaching on a street corner. I know you are probably saying, "Lance, that is racist. There is nothing wrong with all black churches." To you I say, "I completely agree." However, this all black church began to yell that, "All white people are going to hell."
Does Eminem count? He tries really hard to fit into the black community. Is that repentance?
Or what about Michael Jackson? Was he originally going to heaven before he realized he a was small white man stuck in a tall black man's body?
Do you guys claim Dennis Rodman?
Who gets Bill Cosby? Does God find his clearly white comedy funny enough for heaven?

Part of me kind of wants to show up at the Sunday morning service, and just yell out random 'amens'. Or, be that guy that obnoxiously screams 'Jesus' every 2 seconds during their song service.

However, I won't. Because unfortunately I'm nice, and I don't want to die.

Sometimes the world is a sketchy place, and it feels like you are forced to play along with a life you don't remember choosing.
It's like playing Baseball with only one outfielder. You just have to hope that life doesn't hit anything into deep right field, because there is no way that Stumpy the fat centerfielder that you picked out of sympathy will make it there in time.

"Take all that you have, and turn it into something you would miss if somebody threw that brick, and shattered all your plans."

Negativity will never be in my plans.

Step Inside, Walk This Way. You and Me Babe, Hey! Hey!

I have awesome people in my life. Perhaps I feel that way because they are always there for me, but it is probably just because one of them gave me great free coffee like 2 seconds ago. Thanks!

I told her whenever I find a job I'll give her something for free.

Now, my goal is to find one of the most awkward jobs ever.

Hmm, Prison guard?

"Thanks, for the free coffee! Enjoy these prisoners! Only one of them is a repeat offender, but public indecency isn't that bad is it?"

Or, male model?

"I really appreciate the coffee, enjoy these beautiful half naked pictures of my self. I work really hard to be that beautiful. Jenny Craig hasn't let me down yet."

Or even better, Professional Interpretive Dancer

"Your coffee was absolutely delicious. This is dedicated to you beautiful coffee shop girl. Enjoy my frolicking to the beat of your favorite song that will now have my tights wearing body permanently associated with it!"

(Your welcome for providing you with that beautiful image.)

I would never do anything that terrible. Except maybe the interpretive dance one. I would make at least 4 other people do it with me though so we could have that, "Whoa they are in a squad. That must mean they are good" wind about us. Think about it...one guy walks in with a guitar. Your thought, "great some punk that will play Dashboard Confessional for 8 hours." A full band walks in..."Awesome! Play Freebird!"

Why is it always Freebird? Why can no one just once run up to a band and scream, "Hey! Play Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard!" or even "Hey! Play Photograph by Nickelback."

If either of those ever happened and the band actually performed it, I would perform a standing ovation. Assuming I could stand after laughing that hard. 

Today has been a great day.

Since I didn't have anything deep to say today I will leave you all with this...

"Look at this photograph. Every time I do it makes me laugh...every time I do it makes me...laugh."

EDIT: Thank you, Jennifer G. for suggesting the perfect third song reference. Photograph by Def Leppard!