Rent-a-friend

I recently had a frank conversation with a friend about going to strip clubs.

I don't enjoy the experience very much. My summary of it is this: you're going into a loud, dark building full of other horny guys, only to pay women to pretend they like you. It's strictly a business transaction.

But my friend (let's call him 'Clarence') gave me another perspective, one that intuitively seems accurate. I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but Clarence's view is this:

A man goes to a strip club to purchase fantasy. He crosses the threshold of the club knowing that he will receive female attention; all that is required is money. Because the uncertainty is removed, his inhibitions disappear and he feels more confident. It is an opportunity to temporarily escape the disappointment and rejection that often accompany male/female interaction.

There's no underlying message to this entry; this is just a point of view that I had not considered.

Ahead of the Bus Crowd

My overall public transit experience has been uneventful; nothing of either a life-enriching or life-threatening nature has happened to me on a bus. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish harm on my fellow passengers.

There is one type of bus rider that pisses me off; he's the guy that, regardless of whether or not the bus is crowded, stands right at the front and talks until the driver's ears bleed. He's the guy that is so socially malnourished that he thinks the driver actually wants to hear about his long-dead schnauzer or his colon operation. But I digress just a little. He really pisses me off for two reasons:

1. He's distracting the driver. You know, the driver--that person in charge of our lives while we're on the bus. The one guiding the 20-tonne hunk of steel.
   
2. He's blocking my view! I may not be familiar enough with a route to know my stop with my eyes closed, and if it's dark, then I definitely need to see where I'm going.

I can't do what I really want, which is openly ridicule these people. So, I wish harm on them--but just a little. I don't want them to die, for Christ's sake. What I wish is for the driver to have to make a stop just quickly enough so that the nuisance rider flies forward and bonks his head on the windshield. That way, he can be reminded of this folly by the giant goose egg on his forehead for the next four or five weeks. After all, common sense eludes these people, and experience is often the best teacher.

Suck it Up

Sometimes you hear one person say to another, "suck it up". This is a curt way of telling someone that their verbal/emotional response is not appropriate for the situation. If a person wants to appear socially superior and clever, they might say, "suck it up, Buttercup!" Rhyming is always clever, right? This expression must be from a movie or something; I've heard it too many times from unrelated people for it to be mere coincidence.

I used to hear similar bullshit in elementary and secondary school:

"Smile, Tom!"

This is something that teachers would utter when I was sad in a situation where I was expected to be happy...usually some group activity or sing-a-long. What the teachers didn't understand--or selectively forgot--was that smiling is a reaction to something; when something pleases me, I smile. Smiling is a reaction, much like reaching out to catch an object when someone unexpectedly tosses one your way while saying, "hey, catch!" A teacher would not expect me to stand there, arms extended, in the absence of something to catch--why would he or she expect me to smile when I'm not pleased?

Anyway, back to suck it up. Suck what up? What are we, vacuum cleaners? I chuckle at the thought of a housewife (or househusband) shouting "suck it up!" at a clogged and dying Hoover; it's absurd and irrational. Don't you think it's hilarious, and also irrational, that we treat one another in a way that we wouldn't treat our household appliances?

Helping Hands

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