oscillation

We like to criticize the habits of those around us. Habits that we have enabled for years. Habits that thrive in our absence yet we deny our presence.

Everything has roots, who are we to scorn the growth of a tree from a root we fed ourselves?

Luggage

You're carrying around all this luggage like we're hopping a plane. It may be Louis V, but it's baggage all the same.
It's joint custody. You love me on the weekends, but entropy has me every other day of the week. I want to tell you I need you, but it's getting harder to speak. Impossible to decipher the words that come trickling through that gap in my lips. I thought you were trying to hear me better, but you're just leaning in for a kiss.
You write me off so much I don't know what to think. I'm just sitting here waiting until you run out of ink.

Blood in the drain

You say you can't go any further cause you're foreign to feeling. I don't claim to be good at what I'm doing right now but i do it.
You're staying true to someone and you think it is me, but truth be told you're the only one who's blind to your denial. You see, I see you're not as thick as you think, as transparent as the broken glass in the sink. If you're really so sick of seeing this mug, why are you cutting me every time I go to pull the plug?

I'm a compass, you're a magnet. Back off.

It's hard to distinguish which direction I'm heading. Am I feeling more alive or more dead. Falling apart now isn't feeling as natural as it did with you. I'm as free as I've ever been, but you're just as free as you'll ever be.

Goodbye is too good a word

You're articulating words with an ingenuous tongue. The lukewarm thoughts roll down the back of my ear. I don't respond. Instead, I close my eyes and dream of the fire you used to breathe down my neck.
I swallowed my soul to lie in the depths with you. I think it's finally time for me to throw it up and rise again.

This is your heart. This is your heart on drugs.

I've seen many of your faces, but what's in front of me is not one I've known before.
It's grim. It's heartless. It's brutal.
Your eyes no longer remember who I am, your soul forgets how I used to make you feel, and your brain has halted its effort towards getting any of that back.
You're losing your nerve, it's numbing your heart away.
There's nothing left for me there.
It seems as if there's more of you still inside of me than what resides in you now.

is it my judgement or my vision that's clouding the realities of myself?

is it possible we all employ the same self-fulfilling prophecy which states we become what everyone else thinks we already are?

-

bored with nothing to say

I like:
a good movie
seeing strangers being nice to each other
people who love their job
guys who are nice to animals
having perfect change
strong winds that shake the trees
finding someone else who gets it
seeing pretty girls with ugly guys
surprising people
when everything falls into place
people who get my sarcasm
sounding like I know what I’m talking about
walking late at night especially after it rained
the smell of a skunk

I hate:
people who think they are better than every one else
guys with long hair
long winters
easter
knowing the personal lives of musicians
breaking a nail
new cars
trash on the ground
people who collect shoes
people who save quarters with states on the back
not being the best
being bare foot

The answer is yes.

I recently moved to a city I can not see myself a part of. Walking down the street feels like a freak show where I am the main attraction. I’m different than these people and I feel like everyone knows it.

I was sitting in a Bank of America people watching and eavesdropping and I noticed why I can’t fit in with these people. Everyone who walked in fit into a stereotype. It was kind of ridiculous actually. There was the deep and sensitive liberal arts student, the 30 year old never-made-it wannabe musician, the Mexican worker complete with paint covered over-alls, the mom by day street walker by night lady, the scary drug dealer, the really a good guy at heart drug dealer, the 14 year old mom holding infant, the ultra-hip city chick that only digs things that nobody else knows about, and the stupid undergrad who still thinks the party will never end. Yes, these are all stereotypes and yes all of them walked into that Bank of America within a 15 minute time period. So, on the walk home I started looking around and seeing this city for what it really is… lame. Everyone here fits perfectly into some kind of category like they do it on purpose. How boring! I don’t want to have to fit into a mold in order to know who my friends are.

I’m not ultra-hip, I don’t like anything cool, I’m not into any underground scenes, I don’t have a kid, I don’t have sex for money, I don’t deal drugs, I have no musical or artistic talent, I’m not big on underpaid manual labor, I didn’t go to a liberal arts school, and I know the party is over. It now makes sense why everyone stares at me.

Is it possible to live here and just live? I feel like I’m in west side story trying to pick what gang I want to be a part of (Sharks? Jets? I don’t know.) Here it doesn’t feel like my T-shirt and jeans can cut it and I don’t want to wear anything else. I don’t want to advertise what kind of music I listen to or what kind of person I am. If you want to know you get to know me. I don’t want to be one of these people. There is just falseness about them. The way they talk and present themselves is very dishonest to me.

Is it possible to be alone in a city of 600,000 people?

Fines Doubled....

While driving on I-95 through Connecticut I realized a truth about life. During the last four years I have seen a lot of construction on that highway. I have seen crew with bright orange vests, signs with bright orange trim, cones with bright orange stripes, and angry drivers with bright red faces. It seems that as soon as one strip of road is dredged up and repaired another strip immediately falls into ruins and needs repairing, non stop for four years. It has reached the point where I intensely fear the drive through the state. For years I thought it was simply because of flawed work that leaves the road defenseless to the high daily traffic that rips up the road in record speed, but maybe it’s done for some other purpose.

What if there are people like that, always under construction. I have seen those people. They are constantly changing, reinventing, and dredging. Uncomfortable in their own selves they must continually exfoliate it off and rebuild new skin. The people around them always have to deal with this and for the most part just move on.

I must confess, I think I may be one of these people but, is it because I do such a shitty job of fixing my problems I’m bound to fall into disrepair or maybe I really believe I can be a better person? Or perhaps I just like the attention. Although I’d like to think it wasn’t true I could just like the attention because they always say negative attention is attention none the less, but for certain reasons I think this is the weaker of the three. It is quite possible I constantly fall into disrepair because I don’t think I truly know how to fix any of my own problems but, I think the best answer is that I really believe I can be better than I am. I guess the majority of people think this way, but it must be true that, for some people, there just cannot be a better version no matter how positive or negative they are right now.

So, I’m really banking on the fact that I am not one of those people and there is, somewhere, a better version of me that someday somebody will meet. In the mean time I apologize for anyone who has had to put up with this first hand and I applaud those few that stick it out, because, like the Connecticut highway, I will probably always be under construction.

historical cunts

A movie review: The Da Vinci Code

For a second I hesitate in writing a movie review for a title that is down to two showings in the theater, but I waited that long to see it so I’m sure there are others as well. I did not read the book, nor do I plan on it. If you want to stop reading now, let me tell you i would recommend you see it and the movie was not bad. It was also not great. I was hoping this would be Ron Howard’s next awesome 10 year movie - Cocoon in 1985, Apollo 13 in 1995, and since the only movie he made in 2005 was Cinderella Man it had to be The Da Vinci Code. I don’t think it is.

The story kept me interested throughout the movie even during flashbacks that allowed the audience to understand the vague Christian mythology that was the backdrop of the story. Some ideas were explained over and over again so anyone could understand the plot and not feel like an un-cultured POS and other major plot development points were breezed over as if no one would notice. Throughout the whole movie it seemed as though the director was speeding things up to make up for all the mythology he needed to go over which basically gave the movie a forced action feel when it should be anything but. The fact is that the two main characters are running for their lives and trying to figure out this ancient religious code in an ancient European city while every other major character is out to kill them…. Why should there be forced action there?

Tom Hanks, seemed to fit at first but, as the movie dragged on he appeared to be more and more uncomfortable in his role. Tautou did an OK job but, just like the film itself, was not great. The best acting by far came from Jean Reno, the French trained actor who played Captain Fache, the bad-but not really bad guy. The English actor, Ian McKellen (I know what you’re thinking, the guy who played death in Last Action Hero?) Ok that was a joke I know I’m the only one who saw that movie… so it’s the old guy from X-Men and Lord of the Rings. McKellen is an extremely diverse and talented actor who was a crucial part in this movie’s non-suckage (yes I went there.) Paul Bettany also did a good job but, mostly because he was type casted as the freaky but evil albino guy. It takes no acting talent to make albino’s look evil or freaky.

A few things that really caused some subtraction of points were the fact that the movie was based in France but there really wasn’t that much French (also thanks to the American's inability to read subtitles) and the clues left to by the old dudes were all in English. Attention America: Please Learn How to Read.

Summation:

So, Ron gets some props for the international cast, keeping the pace, and pissing off some Catholics. However, he did ignore the possibility of making this movie really interesting for countless reasons. If nothing else, Ron Howard now has the street cred to sit around with Mel Gibson and talk about what religions people think they hate.

The movie does confirm two things i have known for a long time. Catholics are dumb and albinos scare the shit out of me.

Californication

Attention Red Hot Chili Peppers:

Everyone is tired of hearing about California.

We get it, if California was a person you would hump the shit out of him/her.

Now you can start writing songs about other unhealthy obsessions, like drugs, you guys do drugs, right?

Let's hear more songs about some crazy drug use.

Thanks.

If only I cared enough to have goals

An observation

So, I realized that people who go to the gym do it to actually look better. These people have goals like, 20 pounds off by summer or 2 dress sizes down before the wedding….

I go to the gym so I can consume as many snacks, soy lattes, and eggplant parms as I like and not have to worry about fitting into my clothes. This seems counter productive to most people, but it makes perfect sense to me. I always hoped the gym would be filled with 80’s body builders working out to the Rocky theme song.

Sadly it’s not that funny, but there are many strange characters I have observed in the past few months….

Sweaty Man – This man is gross. Niagara Falls drips from every part of his body from seemingly easy workouts. He seems to be unaware of his problem because he never cleans off his machines. Stay away from sweaty man.

Stick Girl – This will be the thinnest girl you have ever seen. This kind of thin can only be caused by a disorder or terminal illness. Every time I see her I just want to scream “why the hell are you even here!”, but I don’t.

I think he’s gay man – This is a 20 something year old kid who does nothing but the stepper for hours at a time. I have never seen him do anything else in the gym. I’m always thinking that there is no way a straight man will pay for a gym membership and do nothing but the cardio stepper, which is totally a girly machine. He out steps me every time and he doesn’t even know we are racing. I watch him in awe. I think I will train for a year doing nothing but the stepper for days on end. I will eat raw eggs every day for breakfast and don 80’s style sweat bands. Then I will come back and beat I think he’s gay man at his own craft. The student becomes the master.

Half Naked Chick – This chick thinks that just because she is hot she can wear a bra and hot pants wherever she wants. She poses a potential risk for the male weight lifters and pisses me off. Woman: The gym is a public place, so get some fucking clothes on! I don’t need to see your perfect ass peeking out from the bottom of your shorts. The half naked chick is depressing.

The Motivator – This is the person you never want to be. They can be male or female and are usually morbidly obese. You always see these people but you will only see the same person once or twice. In your head your saying “it’s gonna take more than 10 minutes on a treadmill to fix that mess!” and pray you never let yourself go. If you can’t find a motivator then look in the mirror, because you might be it. This person is the reason you stay an extra ½ hour and go back the next day.

Strong Man – The strong man is usually in his 20’s or 30’s and will lift the heaviest weights at the gym. He also grunts and growls when he lifts…. If you wanted to know which way to the beach, you would ask strong man.

Old Strong Man – Old strong man is in his 50’s or 60’s. He is strong man but wrinkly and less frightening. He also has a faded tattoo of a naked chick on his arm.

Turbo Chick – This chick is crazy. She rivals strong man, but is a lot harder to find. She’s tan, has crazy muscles, and may take steroids. Her hair style was only in fashion in 1982 but it’s hard to identify her age…maybe late 20’s early 30’s? Either way if I ever needed a body guard, she would be it.

Rambo - aka: workout guido. This is the guy fronting as an Italian wearing a wife beater, a dark tan and a gold chain. He will try to talk in a NY accent but he was really born and raised in RI. He will have crazy amounts of gel in his hair even though he’s at the gym. He will be the one starring at the back of stick girl while she’s on the stepper.

Boats are Scary

10 things to do this summer

1. Finish at least 1 book
2. Become a minimalist
3. Eat healthy stuff
4. Wear something besides jeans
5. Read the paper
6. Use the word of the day for more than one day
7. Get a job
8. Finish everything I start
9. Actually learn Spanish
10. Accomplish at least one thing on this list

10 realistic things I will do this summer

1. Waste valuable time just sitting around
2. Watch every new movie at the theatre
3. Watch every horror movie at Blockbuster
4. Only eat things that were cooked on a grill (veggies of course)
5. Sleep until noon on weekdays
6. Eat out every night
7. Don’t read anything but movie subtitles
8. Wear jeans in the dead heat of summer
9. Play a billion games of skeeball on the boardwalk (not a hyperbole)
10. Get pissed when nothing of value actually gets accomplished

Clarification for the one person who reads my blog

"Everyone drives a new car"
This was not supposed to imply that a lot of people drive. In the city (even the small ones) most people take public transportation, which, like I said, was the best I’ve ever seen. I actually meant that those few that do drive choose new cars with more efficient mpg ratings and fewer emissions. In the time I was there I did not see one gas-guzzling "clunker" on the road like you see everywhere in America. And it's actually illegal to let your car idle for more than a minute or two and i know that sounds like one of those laws that nobody cares about like registering an indoor cat with your town, but it's not - in Sweden neighbors will report you.

"When people talk to strangers they are either mentally insane or American"
This might not be seen as a good thing to everyone, but it was for me.
Everyday I had a 25 minute tram ride home from the city and in that time not one person would try to talk to me. You could be sitting next to the same person the whole time and never even lock eyes. Swedes just don't give a shit about chit chat like Americans do and would rather just leave you alone. There was one exception when a teenage boy heard my American accent and wanted to know what my heritage was...it was so strange to him for someone to have so many different backgrounds and he wanted to know if all Americans were like that... it was interesting

It is true that "anyone who thinks "Americans are cool" must have a serious intelligence deficit." because Americans are by far the lamest group of people ever (hello - the puritans!) but when you travel the world so much it feels good when someone actually thinks you are cool (accurate or not)... Swedes and the Japanese are the only ones I’ve encountered that actually thought this way... and to this day I do not know why

i <3 Sweden

So don’t get me wrong here, I love Sweden and most of the Swedes that live there. I would move back there in a second. So I compiled a list of the best things in Sweden so I don’t seem too one sided here.

The bread (like no other bread you have ever tasted- 1 slice is a meal in itself)

IKEA (yes, every home in Sweden looks like it was furnished at IKEA, except the northern Swedes that live in tents or igloos or something)

H&M

Lingonberries (these are best on cheese + crackers)

Dahls (best coffee shop/bakery ever)

Pearl sugar

Everything made with elderflower

True environmentalism backed by the government

The most efficient tram system I have ever seen

Swedish pancakes

Cheap cheese

Marabou Hazelnut Chocolate

Gothenburg

Equality of women

Everyone drives a new car

When people talk to strangers they are either mentally insane or American

My 15 year old brother can kick the ass of any Swedish thug

Americans are cool

Lagom är bäst

Lagom:

There is no English equivalent for the Swedish word lagom, and actually there is no equivalent in any other language either. It’s very definitive to Sweden and the Swedish way of thinking. It's the idea that there is the perfect amount for everything including food, space, laughter, sadness and money. It’s described as "just enough” and rivals the extremes of consumerism, which Sweden certainly does not partake in. More simply put you are equal to you’re countryman; you're not supposed to be too good, or too rich and if you are you shouldn’t show it off.

I have seen this whole idea described as “well-disguised national pride and self-confidence” which I, in return, call a flaming pile of bull shit.

If you actually sit down and talk to a Swede for a minute they will be the first to tell you all about lagom and equality and how nobody is the best and it’s wonderful. If you stay there for another minute they will then proceed to tell you Sweden is better than the United States because of lagom. Then they will then explain to you, an American, that every one in America just tries to be better than everyone else and Hollywood makes us shallow and Swedes are humble and better than any American.

I know, right now you’re saying… doesn’t the fact that they are saying all this contradict their whole lagom theory?... in a word yes, but that is not where the contradictions end.

Swedes love America. They also take any chance they get to act like or be with an American. They watch reruns of American shows on TV and American movies in the theatre (neither dubbed). They also are some of the shallowest people I have ever met. They spend great amounts of money on clothes, make up, shoes, and bags. If you are one of the Swedes who do not have blonde hair and blue eyes you will be criticized by the others.

One of my Swedish friends had many troubles with this. Both her parents were born in China but moved to Sweden for a better life. She was born in Sweden, spoke Swedish as a first language, and considered herself Swedish before any other nationality however, any time the “true” Swedes had a drink in them they would tell her she is not Swedish, she’s just an immigrant and therefore inferior to everyone else. (This coming from a bunch of Swedes in America – yes immigrants themselves)

“Well-disguised national pride and self-confidence”, bull shit. They are the first to tell you their football team is better than anyone else’s, Sweden is better than Norway, Americans are superficial, and Sweden produces the best cars.

So where exactly is this lagom?

Is it hiding on one of the shelves of IKEA?

Is it tucked away on a coat rack at H&M?

Is it hiding in the trunk of a Volvo?

No, it exists solely in the imaginations of every Swede who was fed that crap from the day they were born… Swedes are better because of lagom…. contradictions and denial

Simon says....

Originality:

Some would say this is the power of independent thought or constructive imagination, however, most people would call it well disguised plagiarism. Either way, you don’t see a lot of if lately and I don’t think I’m the only one bothered by it.

Unoriginality isn’t always bad though, Sam Adams has built its entire advertising and brand image around fuck-heads who like to copy other people.

Should we blame society for claiming everyone is equal?

Should we blame Hollywood for setting the mold for all of America to follow?

Or should we blame our own human nature to want to fit in with everyone else?

I guess we can forget the blame game and look at this way, without followers there will be no leaders and without leaders there will never be change and change is good.

Benevolence is lost so easily

Almost a year ago I had an accident that would subsequently cause a six month depression and keep me from walking for three months. At first I needed a wheel chair to leave the house. When my boyfriend reluctantly made the drive to see me on the weekends he would complain that putting my wheel chair in his trunk would mean he couldn’t put the top down on his convertible BMW.

This event has, whether completely justified or not, permanently shaped my opinion of his character and the character of every cock that drives a BMW.

So my question is this:

Why does the truth only show during our worst moments and our character shaped more by our own evils than graces?

It’s better to be surprised anyway

Radiohead - Where I End and You Begin

Towards the end of this song jesus will try to call you.
Your phone will be on vibrate and you will miss the call.
Jesus will not call again.

17 years later you will be walking across a city street and a Mack truck will run a red light.
As you lay there, moments from death, it will then become clear to you why jesus was trying to call.

the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world

What is it with cocks lately! There seems to be an increase in the number of cocky assholes that come in contact with me and I feel the need to set these people straight.

This problem I contribute to global warming. What does global warming and the dick head at the UPS store have in common? Hot air. Much like when, in the summer time, your car tire will pop because of air expansion the fuck head working at the UPS store will have hot air fill his head.


1. You are not the shit
2. Everything you think is cool is not
3. Yes, you are gay
4. Your penis is not large
5. Nobody thinks you are funny
6. Nobody cares where you went to school
7. Everyone has a gmail account


So, ignoring the risk of beating an allusion to death… You are not a unique and beautiful snowflake… So get the fuck over yourself!

Bevar Christiania!

a travel story

Living in Sweden sometime in March 2003…. We take a bus from Gothenburg, Sweden to Copenhagen, Denmark. There are about 25 Americans and maybe 10 Swedes. These Swedes are supposed to be showing us cool Scandinavian shit on this particular weekend, which inevitably means we must leave Sweden and go to Denmark.

We arrive in Copenhagen early and everyone is tired and in a shitty mood. We stay in a cheap hotel located on the same corner as a strip club and two sex shops (all of which will give you at least two diseases just by walking by.) Our floor, aka: the cheapest floor in the hotel, had shared bathrooms and showers. We all sleep for the first half of the day then scatter about to see the city.

We find ourselves in Christiania, a little hippie commune where it was legal to purchase and enjoy various kinds of soft-core drugs. Christiania only had semi-legal status as being an independent community and was started in the 70’s by a few hippie squatters who took over an abandoned military base. They fallow no Danish laws and have come up with their own laws and “government” for the area. These laws include; no cars, no stealing, no guns or bullet proof vests, and no hard drugs. Now everything sounds reasonable except why the hell are you not allowed to have bullet proof vests? Who the fuck cares if you are so paranoid you need to wear a bullet proof vest in an area where no guns are allowed any way? Crazy Danes… needless to say we came to get fucked up.

After blazing for an hour or so and growing bored with the other extracurriculars of the moment, Steph and I decided to eat shrooms and leave Christiania. Now Steph was an American who lived in Sweden for the past few years, spoke Swedish, and knew her way around. She always talked shit about the Swedes in front of them but she was our mediator so everyone loved her. She didn’t come to America with the rest of the Swedes and the last I herd she was studying in Paris.

So we go back to the hotel to meet up with everyone else and drink a bit. The Swedes tell us they know where a good bar is so we head out. As we arrive it is very clear that this bar is in fact a techno pop dance club. Even though I’m dressed to go to a bar, the bouncer lets me in because I am American, accompanied by several skanks, and have 56 Danish Kroner. Now it has just hit me that for the next several hours I will be listening to global dance-pop lyrics laid over top of 1 of 2 different techno beats proven to sound better with every drink you take. I get over this fact really fast when I find out that champagne and red wine are free all night. So, Steph tells me how to get them to not water anything down and we find Dita at a table.

About 5 drinks later I see Steph flying around the room like the reading rainbow butterfly and I know I am fucked up. Does this concern me at this time? No. After about 10 more drinks I stumble down to the bathroom, which was just a spiral staircase away (leave it to the fucking idiot Scandinavians to try to conserve space with a spiral staircase in a club full of drunks), and proceed to vomit up 12 hours worth of bad decisions. Then I pass out with my face on the toilet seat for a time frame that is unknown to me.

I wake up to the sound of someone saying my name and the same dance song playing everywhere in Scandinavia at the time (which will eventually and strangely become my favorite dance song ever). So I contemplate the will to move any part of my body and decide that my position is pretty comfortable and the toilet seat pillow isn’t that bad. Another stretch of time goes by and I finally decide I need to leave. I barely get up the spiral staircase and find myself in an almost deserted club with no Americans or fellow Swedes in sight. I walk out the door and decide it must be around 5 or 6 in the morning.

Now this happens to be the moment when I learned that when walking to a new place in a foreign country it would be best to pay attention to how the fuck you get back, know the address or even the name of the hotel, and always save some cab money for the end of the night. So right about now all I know is what the hotel looks like from 5 feet away and that I need to walk to my right. Stumbling along in the twilight of spring in an unknown direction I believe I got to realize Copenhagen as the beautiful city it is.

Somehow, by some crazy miracle, I see the dirty strip joint and know I am home. After waking up Steph and Dita and in some kind of inaudible slurred speech totally bitch them out for leaving me, find my room, wake up my roommate just for fun, and sleep for about 16 hours. Denmark, you dirty whore, I love you.

The one seat buffer

Every true American respects the one seat buffer rule with the exception of the homeless, rapists and sleazy Latinos, but for arguments sake they do not count. Whenever you are in a public seating area, be it a food court, bus, or movie theater, there is a one seat buffer that should always be between you and the stranger next to you.

The reasons are as follows:
1. People smell and someone you don’t even know should not have to smell your personal funk. It’s ok with people you know because you get the benefit of knowing that person and everyone has something to offer to a friendship. Oh and you can tell them they smell like ass and need to fix the situation immediately... without getting smacked.

2. Without the one seat buffer you run the risk of bumping elbows or accidentally poking a girl in the breast, which is equally disturbing whether done by a girl or guy. This contact will immediately create an awkward situation/interaction that we Americans were not raised with the mental aptitude to comprehend.

3. Americans are fat and in denial. We still manufacture seats for teenagers in Frankie and Annette 1950’s beach party movies. Not that there were no over weight people in the 50’s it’s just back then they were considered less than human and sacrificed for the greater good of a nation ( their fat was used in the production of army boots for the sure-to-come WWIII ) The one seat buffer makes it possible for all of our American goodness to overflow into the next seat a safe distance from the fat rolls of the stranger next to us - the two fat rolls must never meet.

4. When two Americans are sitting right next to each other with no one seat buffer they feel the need to stir up some chit-chat. Since we're so used to the one seat buffer being there when we actually do have to sit next to a person we panic. Unable to cope with this new-found closeness, we try to talk to the person so they are no longer a stranger and make the one seat buffer obsolete. This only works 1 time out of 100. It's very unlikely that the person sitting next to you, aka: idiot who didn’t follow the one seat buffer rule, will have even a remote chance of something in common. Thus you will never be friends and always need the one seat buffer in between you. American chit-chat is bad too. Americans will start by mentioning the weather - mind you they are in a public place, so the other person did leave their house that day and did in fact come in contact with the atmosphere around them in turn knowing exactly what the weather situation is. Then we try to mention some current event that the other person definitely has no clue about (actually you don’t either. you just saw the headline in a news clip during the commercials for the OC or whatever crap you watch on TV that you will never admit to and pray they know less than you and don’t want to build an actual conversation off of it inevitably making you look smarter and more informed earning you the privilege of sticking your nose up and saying “oh you didn’t read about that” yeah like you even read – go you!)

There is also a few side regulations to keep in mind with this rule.

1. In the case of a bench seat, one shall still keep the distance of one seat. This actually puts a lot of power into your hands, you can either stick to the 1950’s ass-sized seat or upgrade to the wide load of the year 2006. Either choice still leaves room for only 2 people per public bench.

2. When put in a situation where there is no room for a one seat buffer - for example a crowded bus - you must stand. If the only room on the bus is in between two people, in their buffer seat, you must stand and forfeit the seat for the greater good. This rule is difficult because Americans HATE to stand, however, the hate of closeness to strangers and awkward situations totally usurps any other hate.

The one seat buffer rule is a universal rule that stretches across the entire United States. Children understand this rule. However, for some reason foreigners can never pick up on it. Why do they think we always sit one seat apart? This is a mystery I would like to solve. In any case this oversight is unbearable for several reasons,

1. Foreigners always smell bad. This is in part because most of them do not use deodorant, eat very pungent smelling foods that in turn oozes out their fragrance from their pores, and a foreigner’s idea of cologne involves pieces of dead animals and ancient oils used to summon some type of god (yeah, oils that are so caustic they could break through the force of space and time into the heavens (or depths, depending on what kind of god you are beckoning) and catch the attention of said being)

2. Foreigner’s idea of chit-chat involves war, holocaust, rebellions, American idiocy, and global politics. None of these subjects can accurately or knowledgeably be fully discussed by a stupid and painfully naive American.

3. Foreigners have accents. Americans cannot understand what they are saying and don’t really care since they are in America and every one should know how to properly pronounce words in American style English. Of course, when Americans travel abroad the people living in these foreign nations must also be able to do this in their homeland because the world must cater to the needs of all Americans. If they want our capitalistic blood-money in exchange for half-assed hand woven souvenirs they damn straight better speak perfect American style English.

4. Foreign people come from different cultures and ways of living that are different than our own and that is demonstrated in their clothing and appearance.
Translation: foreigners are creepy.

As I said earlier, there are a few groups of people who, although were born and raised in America, do not adhere to the one seat buffer rule. Namely the homeless, rapists, and sleazy Latinos. I feel the need to clarify why these people do not use this rule. I also fear they are the ones confusing all of the foreigners.

Well, the homeless are just cold and they need body warmth, so clearly the one seat buffer means nothing to them - except if they have their garbage bag filled with all their worldly possessions, in which case the one seat buffer gets used.
The intentions of rapists are obvious and need no further elaboration.
Sleazy Latinos are a rare breed of people that enjoy sitting disturbingly close to strangers, engaging in meaningless banter, and if you're a female “accidentally” groping your goods with sweaty, grease covered hands. They also take much joy in speaking slang Spanish to their friends while staring at you like a prison inmate that’s gone without anal while in solitary for a month. In this case there is nothing to do but move your seat or in the most annoying of situations get off the bus and walk away.