#331 The Bachelorette Audition Video
Last week I applied online to be on The Bachelorette. I found out then that the online application was just the first part and they suggest sending in a mail application along with a video. The instructions for video offered some questions to answer along with some do’s and don’t’s. My first idea was to make a video comprised of all the don’t’s in the video. But then I decided that I couldn’t stretch that joke far enough to fill the 10-15 minutes they suggested for the video. So I went with what you see below. It starts out slow but it gets better I promise. It’s pretty stupid but I think it’s different enough to catch somebody’s attention. Let the mockery begin:
#330 Be Interviewed for Share Art LA
You may recall a month ago when I mangled a young lady’s lovely rendition of What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve by singing along with her. I actually met Juliana briefly after my Mortified show in LA. Since then she’s been a reader and supporter of the blog.
Last month she told me that her and her friend Dana, were starting a website that was dedicated to promoting local artists in LA. In addition to displaying their artwork on the site, they would conduct an interview of the artist. Juliana asked if I wanted to be featured on their site, Share Art LA.
My first feeling was flattery. Nobody has ever voluntarily wanted to interview me before. Why would they? “Greg, tell us how you got four stars on the intermediate version of Master Exploder on Rock Band. The public is dying to know.”
Then I felt embarrassment. Surely there must be some mistake here. Are they really that interested in my blog? I know people read it, but is it worth an interview? Also, am I even an artist to begin with? Hanging out and talking with Kate has made me realize that some of the things I do could be construed as performance art. And if a guy can shit on a piece of canvas, hang it in a gallery and be an artist, why can’t I?
Lastly, of course, was fear. The last time I got interviewed was at the horrible audition for the show about BeautifulPeople.com and that was pretty traumatizing.
But I agreed because I thought it would make a good post but more importantly, I wanted to help out Juliana who had been such a great supporter of SYED.
The interview was at Dana’s apartment. Dana came and got me since the buzzer was broken (by the way, what apartment in LA has a working buzzer? I want to know…). Part of what was making me nervous about the interview was not knowing Dana. At least me and Juliana had been emailing back and forth and I had read her blog as well. But did Dana even the read blog? Did she like it?
When we got back to her apartment, I was quickly put at ease when Dana said she was indeed a fan of the blog. That was a good thing since she was interviewing me. I didn’t want to have another disinterested woman asking me questions like my nightmare Beautiful People audition. Or like most dates I go on.
We shot the interview on a couch. Juliana worked the cameras while Dana interviewed me. While I was a little nervous, for the most part I was all right. Talking with Dana felt like having a conversation with a friend so that made it easier. Even fun.
I felt good about the interview right afterwards but in typical neurotic-Greg fashion, I started thinking I could’ve answered all of the questions better, been funnier, more lively etc. But after thinking about it some more, I guess I did ok. And Juliana and Dana seemed to think so at the time anyway.
I love that they thought of me for their project. I also love the fact that they had an idea and are executing it. That’s a big way that SYED has changed my life. I have ideas all the time, some of them even pretty good but in the past, I would never execute them. I would just file them away in my brain under “TO DO… SOMEDAY.”
But what I loved the most was after the interview, we talked more casually about SYED. It was clear that they both not only enjoyed reading it, but believed that it could become something bigger. I really needed that. I am pretty hard on myself about the blog and even more lately since it’s coming to a close soon so it was nice to have some encouragement.
So please check out the interview on Share Art LA. I can’t watch it. Maybe I will for a scary thing but for some reason it’s too hard to watch right now. But I’m sure they did a good job putting it together! And again, please check out and support their website, Share Art LA, every week for new interviews of local LA artists. They also have twitter and Facebook pages so you can keep with updates that way.
#329 Get Set Up on a Blind Date By My Friends
A couple I know told me a few weeks ago that they wanted to set me up with one of their friends. Being set up is a very tricky proposition. Especially when you’re trying to setup your friends. To be honest, I don’t know why people feel the need to embark down that road. Well, I know the optimistic reasons. It’s always great when friends end up dating because then it just makes it easier to hang out with people. And if a couple creates another couple, then it’s double dates galore.
The problem is, it’s more likely not to work out. You’ve got a potentially sticky situation where it could be awkward forever between the two people being setup. Then it has the opposite reaction where the couple can’t hang out with both individuals at the same time. In short, it becomes a giant clusterfuck.
I’ve been setup before… by my mother. This was about six years ago or so. My mother and her friend in New Jersey decided that her daughter who also lived in LA would be the perfect match for me. I obliged my mother to be polite and because I figured, why not? The girl in question turned out to be nice enough but there was no romantic spark. Later, I discovered the girl had yelled at her mother for setting her up with someone “so young.” I was confused and asked my mother how old the girl was. She said “32.” I was 30 at the time but look young for my age so maybe she thought I was 25. Still, why would she get so MAD? It’s not like I was 12. That was the first and last time I was going to let my mother stick her nose in my love life.
But these couple friends of mine seemed so sure we’d be a match. So despite my reservations (and yes, fear) I decided to give it a shot.
The couple suggested we do a double date. I vetoed that idea quickly. Double dates aren’t really dates. It’s hard to get to know somebody that way. I suggested we get dinner alone and then met up with the couple afterwards. They agreed.
I met Tracy at Lou, a wine bar/restaurant I’ve been meaning to try out for awhile. I got there early which I always like to do for dates. It gives me time to relax and get comfortable before being thrown headlong into the inevitable painfully awkward small talk.
Tracy arrived soon after. Having friends in common can be a good thing. It made me feel more at ease than I normally would have. But I made sure not to talk about them too much during the meal. We made a couple of jokes about the couple but for the most part, talked about each other. It can be a trap to just talk about the friends you have in common because it’s easy. But ultimately a complete waste of time.
While she did know about SYED, she said she didn’t really read it because she wanted to get to know me like a normal person (my words not hers). I liked that. It’s hard enough to not Facebook stalk someone you’re being setup with. It’s a whole other thing not to read the online brutally honest ramblings of someone you’re being setup with.
We inevitably talked about the blog though. While I do enjoy talking about it, part of me wonders if that’s the only thing I can talk about anymore. Then again, the blog is what I do most of the time. What else would I talk about? How much I hate work? Playing video games?
Luckily, Tracy turned out to be a pretty cool girl. The conversation went well and there weren’t any “oh God why are we both here” moments. She also didn’t excuse herself to go to the bathroom and attempt to climb out the window. Or maybe she did but realized the bathrooms didn’t have windows. Joke’s on her!
We met up with our couple friends after dinner. When Tracy left to go to the bathroom, I knew they would immediately ask what I thought of her and they didn’t disappoint. I was diplomatic and just said we had fun which we did. But I didn’t say anything more than that.
At the end of the night, I had a feeling that we both felt like there wasn’t a romantic connection. I think we were both mature enough that it wouldn’t be awkward in the future if we were to cross paths again. The whole setup went as well as it could short of us having a romantic connection.
But I think I’m done being setup for awhile. I’m also done on OKCupid. I’m going to try and meet girls the old fashioned way: go to bars at 1:40am and look for the drunkest ones.
#327 Admit that I Stole From My Grandmother
It was the summer after my sophomore year in college. I had just been driven back from Hanford of all places. A friend of mine in college said he could get me a job over the summer where he lived. I stayed at his family’s house then at a friend of his as I waited for him to try and get me a job. A month went by before I came to my senses and realized there was never going to be a job. I made him drive me back to Berkeley that day.
Since I had no other place to go, I stayed with my Grandmother who, at the time, still lived by herself in a small house by the North Berkeley BART station.
She was happy to have me. Even though she couldn’t speak a lick of English and my Chinese was on the level of a six year old half-wit. She loved that I ate copious amounts of the food she cooked. I loved eating her food. It was a true symbiotic relationship.
But after a week, I realized that I was required to do more than just eat her food. I had to get groceries for her. I had to vacuum. I had to lift heavy objects and move them around the house, seemingly for no reason at all. I had to listen to her blast Chinese TV shows to her failing ears. Somebody here seemed to be getting the short end of the stick.
I ended up getting a job at The North Face. I took the bus there every morning. The job paid little but at least I was finally making some money. I was still pretty broke at this point and I didn’t want to go begging my parents for money. I didn’t really need it that badly. I wasn’t paying rent and I had free food whenever I wanted. Still, I wanted to go out with my friends who were still in town over the summer. Eat at restaurants. Watch movies. Buy comic books.
While I loved my Grandmother’s cooking, I still craved food that didn’t have soy saue, garlic or ginger in it. So I went to the grocery store and bought a box of Pop Tarts. I kept them in the cupboard in the kitchen.
One morning I woke up and went into the kitchen. My Grandmother was sitting at the table eating MY Pop Tarts. She had a terrible look on her face. She spit out whatever Pop Tart was in her mouth. A pink pile of mush on a napkin. She balled this up and tossed in the trash along with the rest of MY Pop Tarts. “Bu hao!” she said. Not good.
For some reason, this angered me to no end. I was already on edge for having wasted half of my summer with my friend who never got me a job. Then I was stuck living with my Grandmother being her slave for the rest of it. I had no money and now she had thrown away MY Pop Tarts. I didn’t say a word as I went to work.
When I came home, my Grandmother wasn’t there. This was back when she could still walk on her own so that meant she was probably at the grocery store. I went upstairs but instead of going to my room, I stopped by her bedroom. She locked the door to her room when nobody was in the house. I looked at it and noticed she had not pulled the door all the way shut. I pushed at it and the door swung inward.
In February, my mother told me I had to visit my Grandmother for Chinese New Year. When I arrived, she beckoned me up the stairs to her bedroom. She opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a giant wad of $100 bills. She didn’t believe in banks apparently since nobody except Hong Kong gansters kept that much cash on hand. She peeled off a crisp bill and gave it to me. “Gong shi fa tsai!” Happy New Year.
Now I stood at that same dresser. I opened the same drawer and there it was. The wad of hundreds. I picked it up, paused, then took two bills and stuffed them in my pocket. I put the money back, shut the drawer and closed the door behind me. Then I left to meet my friends at the movie.
The thing is my, Grandmother would have given me ALL of that money if I asked. I don’t know why I did what I did. Partly it was because I wanted the money. Partly it was because I was pissed about the way my summer turned out. The other part, I don’t know. Maybe I’m just a natural born dick.
I obviously never told any of my family members about that. And she never found out, I don’t think so anyway. I mean, did she really count her money every night before she went to bed? Come to think about it, I wouldn’t put it past her. But if she did know, she never said anything to me or my parents about it.
When I was at her funeral, over a year ago, watching her being lowered into the ground, all I could think about was stealing from her. It’s probably one of the things I’m most ashamed of in my life. It’s not that it affected her. It’s not like I took her last $200. But it’s just a reminder of what a snotty brat I was at 19 years old. A reminder of when I had the choice to be virtuous, I chose to be an asshole.
#326 Reveal 3 Tiny Words to the LGBT Community on Reddit
A few days ago I started a photo project called 3 Tiny Words. The goal was to show solidarity and help stop discrimination and hate against gays by having users submit photos of themselves with the words “I AM GAY” on them, whether or not they were actually gay. I am the first to admit that not a whole lot of thought went into it. I had an initial idea, then ran with it, throwing it out there a couple of days later. I thought it was a good idea and since ideas have a shelf life, I wanted to get it up as soon as possible.
My friends seemed to have a positive reaction to the project. I thought I had a good thing. The next step was actually revealing it to the gay community to see what they thought. Since I really didn’t have access to the gay community in person, I headed to my old standby, reddit. The biggest gay community there is a subreddit called LGBT. Of course that isn’t only gays but lesbians, bisexual and transsexuals.
Here is the post.
I posted it in the morning and the entire day I checked in on it. As it started to get attention, it turned out to be one of the most stressful days I’ve had in a long time. I’ve put stuff out there on reddit before, but nothing I had a strong emotional connection to. I was really proud of this project and thought it could make a difference. I admit, I just assumed LGBT would love it. If you look at the post, it generated a lot of attention.
A lot of the first comments were kind of negative but not in a non-constructive way. The people were trying to explain that while my intention was good, my execution may not have been. This bummed me out immediately. I felt like I was being attacked. I was in some cases but overall, as I said, the comments were constructive but passionate. What I gathered and didn’t realize, is that LGBT’s individual sexualities are identities for these people. And those identities encompass a wide range. Far greater than just straight and gay.
At first I thought, why would they want to be identified by their sexuality? But I learned that a lot of people work really hard to come to terms with their sexuality. They become proud of being able to be open about it. Therefore, it becomes part of their identity. Much in the same way being Chinese is part of my identity. It is not the only thing that defines me, but it is a big part of it.
So a bisexual may not want to say they’re gay, even if the purpose of the site is to show solidarity. It’s easy for a straight person to say they are gay to make a point because our sexuality is not something we have to fight for. It’s the societal norm. It’s accepted. But for an LGBT, it belittles their sexual identity to simply say they are “gay.”
In this way, I was pretty naive about how that all worked. I was hard on myself for not doing enough research before setting this project up.
That being said, I still like the idea of the project and I was only trying to do a good thing. A lot of people did like the idea. I gained about 35 followers on the Facebook page and best of all, people started posting photos. Sure some of them say “bi” instead of “gay” but I feel like it’s great they are participating and expressing themselves at all.
A lot gave suggestions on how to alter the project. Ultimately, it’s my project but as I said above, I relaxed my requirements on the photos. I learned a lot about having a vision and sticking to it, even in the face of criticism. This part of someone’s comment made me feel really good though:
You are awesome for trying to do this. I know r/lgbt isn’t the easiest community to just walk into.
I’m not sure exactly how I want the project to go now. But I realize that maybe people just want a place to be proud of their sexual identity. If 3 Tiny Words is where they want to do it, so be it.
#325 Apply Online to be on The Bachelorette
Today’s scary thing comes courtesy of friend Nate. Good old Nate just always seems to be chockfull of ideas for SYED. I guess him and his girlfriend are big Bachelor/Bachelorette fans. I remember seeing the first couple of seasons of The Bachelor and then The Bachelorette. It was fun and new back then. Now it kind of reeks of desperation. So when Nate suggested I apply to be on The Bachelorette, it seemed right up my alley. I wear desperation like a cologne.
I think I’m more interested in seeing how far I could advance in the process. Each step would be something new and scary. Let’s say by some crazy chance I actually get picked, would I actually really go? I don’t know. Honestly, right now I can’t see myself ever doing it. But there are plenty of things I’ve done in this blog that if you asked me I would do a year ago, I would’ve laughed at.
Plus, I’ve had a script in mind for a RomCom centered around a Bachelor/ette type show so this would be good research.
Anyway, I found the online application and applied. But it turns out they want you to follow up with a written mail application with more photos and a video. I have a funny idea for a video so that will probably be coming later this week. For now, the only really creative thing I could do in the application was say I wanted to be on the show. Here’s what I wrote:
Look, I’m 36 years old. I’ve been around the block a few times. I’ve been set up by friends, by my parents. I’ve gone on countless numbers of internet dates. I’ve picked up women in bars, had women picked up on me. I’ve met girls biking, in yoga. I’ve asked waitresses, hair dressers, book store clerks out. And I’m still single. So why WOULDN’T I apply to be on a show to compete against a bunch of guys for a women I barely know? Why WOULDN’T that work out? It would make a great story if it did. So here I am. Applying to The Bachelorette. I expect to win because stranger things have happened.
Would you call me in for a interview based on that?
#324 Put My Picture Up on Lady Boners (Gone Wild)
Lady Boners Gone Wild is a subreddit where guys post pics of themselves and women judge them. There’s a regular Gone Wild subreddit which is basically the same thing for both guys and girls. But mostly girls. So LBGW seemed to be a better fit. I figured this goes along with my Beautiful People post in putting myself out there for scrutiny and ultimately rejection. Only this time, LBGW is a place where dudes pose with their shirts off and even naked. While being naked on the internet would certainly be a scary thing, I’m not in a position of being independently wealthy so I still need to be able to get a job in the future. Maybe if I sell the blog and strike it rich, you can all see mini-Greg (and I do mean mini).
The obvious fear is being rejected. Another fear is appearing to be another douchebag with his shirt off on the internet. But up the post went this morning anyway.
LBGW isn’t the biggest subreddit. There’s only a few thousand subscribers. Still, I’ve climbed to number 3! I have to admit, it feels nice to be complimented after the Beautiful People experience. It’s not something to hang my hat on, but it’s nice. Especially after I tried to setup a date with a girl who I “had a feeling about” from OKCupid this whole week. She ended up giving me the run around and gave me some BS excuses. *sigh*
Oh? You wanted to see the post? FINE.
#323 Go to a Book Club
Whenever I think about a book club, I recall that Seinfeld episode where George joins a book club. Rather than read the book, he tries to watch the movie an hilarious hijinx ensue!
I didn’t even think they still had book clubs. Don’t people just watch Oprah for that sort of thing? But I was browsing Meetup.com for scary things to do and found a Sci-Fi Book Club. It seemed like an interesting way to meet some new people and to discuss a book obviously. I haven’t really had a group discussion about a book since college.
I had actually tried to sign up for the book club last month but I didn’t have enough time to read the book. This month was really no different. I didn’t get the book, The Hunger Games, until a week before today.
The book is 374 pages. I tried to read every night before I went to bed. It felt like college. I kept putting it off and putting it off. Not because the book was bad. I actually liked it and it was easy to read. But last night I had 170 pages to go. I considered giving up but then I realized, what was the big deal? I love reading. Or I used to. These days I don’t read as many books as I should. When I was younger, I devoured them. This wasn’t some text book. It was a fun sci-fi novel.
So I got into bed like I used to do (except I was reading from an iPad), settled in and powered through the rest of the book by 12:30am.
The meetup was at a Denny’s in Santa Monica. As I was driving there, I started to think what the book club would be like. Suddenly I was worried about looking stupid in front of a bunch of strangers. What if they were hyper-intelligent literary scholars and I couldn’t hold my own with them?
When I got to Denny’s, I noticed the stoplights were out nearby. When I got into the restaurant, it was clear the power was out. I walked around for a bit then noticed about four people sitting by the door. One of the women was holding up a copy of The Hunger Games. I had found the book club.
We decided to go across the street to Norm’s since it looked like they still had power. By the time we got a table, there were 10 people there for the book club. Unfortunately we couldn’t get seated together so they split us into two groups of 5.
My group had a young Asian guy, an Asian guy my age, an Asian girl and a white girl. Hey wait a minute. Was this Asian discrimination here? I think it was just a coincidence. There was that usual social awkwardness in the beginning. But like I’ve said recently, I’m able to work past that now.
While I thought there might be some sort of agenda, we basically just had a free-form discussion for an hour or so. I was assertive and brought up some topics of discussion. Actually, I might have been the most talkative one there. Everyone liked the book for the most part. I thought the idea wasn’t that original but it was well executed. I also really enjoyed the main character, Katniss. She has two potential love interests in the book and but there was no clear-cut romance. She was a strong, interesting female character.
I enjoyed myself. Everyone was very nice albeit a bit geeky and nerdy. It was, after all, not only a book club but a Sci-Fi book club. But geeky and nerdy is my sweet spot so I felt pretty comfortable. I’d actually like to do it again. It was nice to be able to talk with smart people about something besides movies, sports or video games. The stuff I usually talk to people about. Also, it would at least get me to read a book a month.
#322 Start 3 Tiny Words
EDIT: Please visit and like the 3 Tiny Words Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/pages/3-Tiny-Words/212658358828774!
I am pretty passionate about gay rights. Being Chinese, I know all about discrimination and prejudice. The thing about gay hate is that it’s so… stupid. And stupid things annoy me. And when something annoys me, I get passionate about it.
I mean, at least with me, somebody can look at me and see that I’m Asian. They can hate me for my slant eyes or “yellow skin.” It’s visual. It’s not right, but I can understand how it’s easy to judge someone by the way they look.
But anybody can be gay. You can’t tell unless they happen to be wearing something fabulous. Blacks, whites, Asians, hispanics. The hate all comes from who they choose to love. It’s so absolutely ridiculous to me. Who cares? Maybe you think the idea of a man and another man is the most repulsive thing in the world, why do you give a fuck about it? And why do you give a fuck about what they do? Don’t you have enough shit to worry about? I know I do. I can’t be bothered with caring about what a group of people does or doesn’t do.
Then this question popped into my head the other day: What if everyone said they were gay? How could there be discrimination? Hate? Everyone would be the same.
That thought lead me to an idea for a photo project where people would post photos of themselves to a site with the words “I AM GAY” on it. In this way, they admit that they are gay (whether they really are or not) so we could end the hate and discrimination. It could be a really powerful statement.
So tonight, I created a very basic site called 3TinyWords.com. The name comes from the fact that while “I AM GAY” are 3 tiny words, they can have a huge impact if you say them. Saying them can get you fired, beat up, kicked out of the military, stop you from getting married or even killed.
Of course, to get the ball rolling, my photo is the first one on there. I’m secure in my sexuality but having a photo saying that I’m gay out there in the world is scary. If someone who doesn’t know me sees the site, they will assume I’m gay. But would that bother me? Not really. If that had an impact on the person, I wouldn’t give a shit about that person anyway.
So there it is. I will be adding functionality (such as being able to upload your photo and add “I AM GAY” to it) as well as all the usual social media suspects. But for now, it’s just a graphic with a link to one of my email addresses. I would love if the readers of SYED contributed and/or shared this site with their friends. I think together we can make 3 Tiny Words change the world.
#321 Email the President of My Company About SOPA/PIPA
I work for a company who is waging a fruitless war against online piracy. Months ago I sent an email voicing my dissenting opinion to the committee formed to spearhead this war. I didn’t hear a reply.
Last month I saw the president at the company holiday party and gave him my opinion in person. We weren’t able to talk too much about it in depth because, well, it was a holiday party.
Today, after riding the high of yesterday’s blackout, I decided to send another email more focused on SOPA. And I’d email the president directly. I’m not even sure if he’ll actually see it. But if he does, I wonder if it will anger him that some boob in Sector G is giving his opinion without even been asked.
I hesitated as making yourself heard in a large company is pretty fruitless, but if it happens, the attention you garner is usually negative. I sent it anyway:
To XXXXXX
Hello. My name is Gregory. I sent an email to the Anti-Piracy committee here at XXXX voicing my opposition to the companyâs âwar on piracy.â I heard no reply.
I also spoke with you briefly during last yearâs XXXX Holiday party on the same subject.
While I do immensely appreciate you taking the time to speak with me about the matter, unfortunately I donât feel like I was able to full express my opinion.
There are two parts to my opinion. First, instead of trying to fight a losing battle against piracy, XXXX should find ways to embrace it. Yes there will always be people who steal content. But if XXXX provided superior avenues of distributing their own content (HD streaming etc.) then consumers would flock to it in greater numbers than pirating. The early success of Hulu helps support this point.
I understand the question is how do companies generate revenue with enterprises like Hulu. That is a more difficult question but one that is worth exploring the full resources dedicated to the war on piracy. The war on piracy is like the war on drugs. You are trying to mop up the blood on the floor when really you should trying to sew up the wound.
The second part is XXXX open support of the SOPA/PIPA legislation.
The language in the bill gives the power of censorship under the guise of protecting Intellectual Property. We cannot allow this to happen. Under this bill, sites can be taken down for alleged copyright infringement WITHOUT DUE PROCESS. It is up to the sites to prove themselves innocent.
This does not only include putting up copyrighted material but linking to it as well. This means that Google search results could be censored. This could affect websites around the world.
Did you know that right now, XXXX.com right now could be taken down for copyright violations? Doing a quick search, I found this topic on XXXX.com which links to a music video. The music and video are both copyrighted. I could send in a complaint and shut down the site.
LINK REDACTED
It is for these reasons that some of the biggest online companies are actively voicing their opposition to SOPA/PIPA including Wikipedia, Wordpress, Google and reddit.
Yesterday, in a display of protest against SOPA/PIPA, these same companies chose to blackout their sites for a day. The result was immediate and powerful with many Senators changing their opinion on the bill:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/19/technology/web-protests-piracy-bill-and-2-key-senators-change-course.html?_r=1
http://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/news/2012/01/pipa-support-collapses-with-13-new-opponents-in-senate.arsPlease consider help changing XXXX stance on this controversial bill. Thank you for your time.
#320 Join the SOPA/PIPA Blackout
On January 18, 2012, all the pages on SYED directed to this page. The text is also below…
Scare Yourself Every Day #320
Join the SOPA/PIPA Blackout
Today, January 18th 2012, I’m joining companies such as Wordpress, Wikipedia, Google, Reddit and more in a voluntary internet blackout. The purpose is to protest the proposed SOPA/PIPA legislation currently trying to be passed in Congress.
This legislative bill contains language which would effectively allow widespread censorship across the internet, affecting not only this country but the entire world.
The interwebs will not stand for this.
My site could easily be taken down for copyright violations. I’ve used copyrighted music in my videos. I’ve taken photos of, quoted from, referred to all kinds of coyrighted material in my blog. Those would all be valid reasons under this proposed bill to take my site down. Even though I am not “stealing” this material for my own benefit and gain.
I was scared to take down my site for a day. I’m obssesed with the traffic numbers on my site. I get excited when they are up, depressed when they are down. I’d hate for new users to come to my site today and not be able to see anything more than one post. But this statement of protest is much more important than perhaps losing some potential new readers (please come back!).
SYED will return to its regularly scheduled programming on January 19th, 2012 PST.
In the meantime, please read up about both SOPA and PIPA at this Wikipedia page. Also, consider sending a message to the Senate here at AmericanCensorship.org.
Also, here is a suprisingly accurate rant from… Hitler about the implications of SOPA/PIPA on the interwebs:
Thank you and see you tomorrow!
– Greg
#319 Taste… Myself
I’m just gonna warn you guys right now. This is not going to be pretty. It’s going to be the opposite of pretty. It’s going to be gross. You may gag. You may even vomit. I hope you don’t, but you might. Whatever you read from this point on, you do so at your own risk. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Because you were. Twice.
A couple of hundred posts ago, I got waxed. Yes, down there. Although it was pretty much the equivalent of closing my privates in a waffle iron, now I can ask any girl I go out with to do the same for me. Of course whether or not she does it is up to her. But I’ve earned the right to say, “Been there. Done that. Now you do it too!”
And that’s where I got the idea. What else could I do that women don’t always like to do just so I could ask them to do it? It seemed so simple
That’s where I got the idea. To taste… myself.
Myself? Yes. The part of myself where little Greg’s come from. My mojo, you might say.
In my somewhat limited sexual experience, I may have tasted myself indirectly here and there. A kiss on the lips after certain things finished. An errant drop or two in the throes of passion. A ricochet. A misfire. Little moments like that do happen. But never a real taste. Which is what I had planned to do tonight. Get a real good taste of the stuff and see what women are always complaining about.
The first order of business was to procure a bit of the ole happy juice.
23 seconds later…
I had what I needed. I put it in a whiskey glass. I don’t know why. It somehow seemed appropriate.
For some strange reason, this was really scary for me. I know it’s just part of my body and everything. But then again there are plenty of things that come out of my body that I wouldn’t want to taste.
And this stuff, there’s no harm in tasting it. You won’t die or get sick.
So I got ready to taste it. Then I stopped. Tasting it was too easy, I realized. I had to go farther. I only have around 7 weeks left for the blog. I had to push the envelope. Never do anything half-assed. I knew what I had to do. I had to ingest it.
I’ve eaten some weird shit for this blog. But never anything like this. Never anything as… taboo as this. I knew the more I thought about it, the worse I’d be. So I raised the glass to my mouth… and drank it.
Not only drank it, swirled it around in my mouth. It didn’t taste bad. It tasted kind of bitter, maybe a little sour, but pretty neutral. The consistency, however, made me want to vomit. It was like phlegm. Good lord ladies, I’m sorry, I had no idea.
Anyway, then it was over. I quickly gargled some bleach, rubbed my tongue with sandpaper and then lit my mouth on fire.
And for the record, yes, I swallowed.
#318 Go on an Audition for a Show About BeautifulPeople.com
A few days ago I applied to be on a show about my experience on BeautifulPeople.com. They called me again today and asked if I wanted to come in for an interview/audition. Today? That was pretty short notice. I considered pushing it off till next week. But since I happened to have no work today and putting scary things off is pretty much saying you’re never going to do it, I agreed.
They sent me an email with some details on what the audition would entail. They were going to interview me about various things but it would be on camera. I’ve never done anything on camera except by myself. Even though I didn’t really care too much one way or another if they were interested in me, it was still going to be pretty fucking scary to have a camera pointed at my face.
The email said that I should come prepared to talk about myself with energy. And that I should be “camera ready.” I don’t know what that means but I had on a t-shirt and jeans and was showered so I figured that was as camera ready as I’d ever be. Then I thought, wait a minute. Why shouldn’t I look the best that I could? So I combed my hair, shaved and put on a shirt and tie. I felt pretty confident about how I was looking.
I didn’t really have time to get too nervous. I had set everything up and was in the casting office in the matter of a few hours. I filled out an application and waited. It was at this point that I started to get pretty nervous. I don’t know why. Like I said I didn’t really care. But then I thought if I actually did get on this thing, it would be great for the blog. Should I try to act like someone else? Like a douche bag? I didn’t know if I could even if I wanted to. Should I tell them about the blog? I decided I would since it would be an interesting talking point. I also thought I’d mention how most people don’t think of Asian males as a attractive which I sort of agree with but it’s not really a concern to me anymore.
Then an assistant and interviewer, both women, called me in to a small room. There were lights setup and it was very hot. There was a camera and chair in the middle of the room.
First the interviewer took a couple of photos of me. I could barely smile because I was so nervous. My face was twitching and I managed only the most pathetic of smiles.
Then the assistant asked me to sit down and put a lav mic on me. I had never worn a lav mic before. She focused the camera and did a sound check. The interviewer sat down on a chair beside the camera. The assistant left and closed the door behind her.
“I’m just going to ask you some questions and I want you to have fun with it,” she said. I hate when people tell me to have fun with something. It makes whatever I’m supposed to have fun with sound like the must unfun thing possible.
She asked me about where I grew up, my social life, dating history and some other pretty generic stuff. I tried to be upbeat but my nervousness was holding me back. All the confidence I had before was gone. It didn’t help that the woman interviewing me didn’t really seem interested in what I was saying. I explained the whole thing about my blog being the impetus for me trying to get on the site and she didn’t even ask a follow up question about it.
She asked me about the site and why I wanted to be on it and why I think I didn’t get on. I just regurgitated what I said in my email.
When she asked me about dating horror stories, I told her the story about one girl who said she was a sky diver. I tried to joke around and asked her if she ever put dirty laundry or silverware into someone’s parachute as a joke, like something that might happen in a cartoon. The girl said, “My instructor died because his chute wasn’t properly packed.” Awkward. And when I finished telling that to the interviewer, she had a completely blank look on her face and didn’t say anything. Just like the girl on that date did. Double awkward.
In fact, the whole interview was like a horrible first date. And like a horrible first date, it was over in a flash. She thanked me for coming in and said they would be making decisions in a couple of weeks.
It’s strange, but I came in there feeling so confident about everything and when I left I felt like shit. But why? I didn’t really even want to be on the show. Yet the interviewer’s obvious disinterest in me made me feel like the most boring person in the world. But hang on. Why should I let her make me feel any different about myself? I think I’m a pretty interesting guy. Sure I’m a bit shy at first but I think I have interesting stuff to say. Actually, I think it’s strange that I threw out a lot of potentially stimulating things to talk about but she didn’t give a shit.
Then again, that’s probably wasn’t what she was looking for. She was probably looking for crazy reality show people. Not a shy, thoughtful nerd. That’s kind of disappointing but it should in no way impact how I feel about myself.
Now I’m over it. But it was scary how much the experience affected me negatively at first. It made me realize how strong you have to be to be able to deal with shit like this. I know now for sure I could never be an actor. Eventually, all that rejection must do a number on your self-confidence.
#317 Go to an Art Dinner with Experimental Music
Good friend Tim sent me an email last week telling me about some weird art dinner at this gallery called Public Fiction. Tim works in the Art industry so he’s always privy to stuff like this. All I knew was there was going to be some sort of vegetarian dinner with each course being paired with some sort of experimental music performance. It sounded kind of cool and scary at the same time.
I’ve definitely been to my fair share of unusual dinners such as dining alone, going to an underground supper club, eating bugs and dining in the dark but never one with any sort of live performance. Especially not experimental music which I’ve never really heard much of.
The dinner was at 7pm and I was really close to not going. First of all, I was kind of hungover for some reason. Even though I only had two glasses of champagne at the pole dancing class the day before and that was at like 4 o’clock in the afternoon. Maybe it’s because I don’t drink that much anymore I don’t know. But I had a headache and I was in a terrible mood. I didn’t feel like mingling with a bunch of strangers and I especially didn’t want to go eat dinner at some random event. How would the food be? And would there be enough of it?
Still, I dragged my grumpy ass out to Highland Park as I had already RSVP’d and told Tim I’d be there. As I was walking up to the gallery, so was Tim. We were pretty early and there weren’t that many people there. The weird thing is, I feel more comfortable in these situations when I go by myself now. Maybe I feel more open, more free to talk to other people, I don’t know. But knowing Tim there made me feel like the old awkward Greg. Perhaps having a friend there was like a safety line.
I felt bad for Tim because he had to deal with my grumpalicious self. And for anybody who knows me, they know how bad that can be. But Tim was fine with it. We got a couple of drinks and scoped the place out.
There were two large tables set up for about 50 people. In the corner was where the musicians would play and the back corner had a little bar set up.
Now let me say that dinner was supposed to be at 7pm. I understand that people in LA like to be late, but we didn’t even sit down until 7:45pm. And there was still no fucking food anywhere. Not a slice of wonderbread. Nothing. Look, if you’re going to have a dinner party, you gotta have food for your guests IMMEDIATELY. Put out a bowl of Fritos. I don’t care. Something.
When we finally sat down (on makeshift benches where there clearly wasn’t enough room for 50 people), I assumed we’d be fed. No. We had to listen to the first experimental music performance. I had to listen to this for ten minutes on an empty stomach:
[audio:http://scareyourselfeveryday.com/wp-content/uploads/Memo.mp3|titles=Memo]
I was in no mood to be open minded at that point so I’ll just say it sucked. Ok, I understand that experimental music is analogous in a lot of ways to modern art. I love modern art. But someone can look at a bunch of random lines and paint splotches and think it’s garbage. Much as I thought this first performance was garbage. But then those are just our opinions. I guess I just don’t get experimental music.
Finally, they brought some food out. It was a shredded cabbage salad served family style in big bowls. Great. This was going to be a family style meal with 50 strangers? The salad was fine. Then we waited another ten minutes for hunks of bread to be dropped on the table. We were expected to just pick up the bread and tear it apart. I have trouble with my friends touching my food now strangers were going to put their grubby paws all over the one piece of substantial food we’d had in over an hour of being there? Luckily Tim grabbed the bread before anyone else did and I got a piece from him. The bread turned out to be shitty quality supermarket bakery bread.
I can’t remember if we had the crappy main course before or after the second performance. I’ll just get this out of the way. The main course was lentils and potatoes. I adore lentils. But serving lentils at a $20 dinner? It’s what they would serve in a Pakistani prison. Serving lentils as a vegetarian dinner is phoning it in. It’s the stereotypical, boring shit dinner that makes nobody want to be vegetarian. There are so many amazing vegetarian meals one could make. I wanted to go into the kitchen, slap some heads and make my own dinner.
The second performance was the best. While it didn’t have a traditional music structure or melody, it sounded more than just a bunch of random noises like the first performance. I actually really enjoyed it.
Dessert was cupcakes. Or so I thought. They were some sort of dry, dense, gingery thing with some random apples inserted into it masquerading as cupcakes. Really? You fucked up dessert too? That’s the easiest crowd pleaser. You want to make cupcakes, fine. Make chocolate ones. It’s boring but everyone loves chocolate. End the meal on a high note. Don’t try to make dessert healthy with whole wheat flour and shit. That’s the biggest mistake of all.
The third and final performance happened at some point. It was a guy with a violin and a woman singing. It wouldn’t be my cup of tea in my most open-minded of states. But in my present “I’m gonna murder somebody” state-of-mind, it sounded like a mouse running across violin strings and a cat trapped in a washing machine.
At this point, I was ready to leave but someone came by asking for “donations.” I gave them their twenty bucks even though I felt like taking twenty dollars instead. They should’ve came by BEFORE they served their crappy dinner.
Look, I know I sound harsh, but if you’re going to throw a dinner party in LA, you better bring your A game. Especially if you’re changing 20 bucks a head. That dinner at best probably cost $3 per person. The ENTIRE dinner consisted of bread, cabbage, lentils, carrots, celery, potatoes and flour, eggs, butter and sugar for the cupcakes. In other words, all foods considered staples to most sane people.
Eating bad food and hearing experimental did make for a scary evening. And the second performance really was beautiful and interesting so I was glad for that.
Tim and I salvaged the night by grabbing a whiskey at a bar nearby. Then I had a mind blowing Al Pastor Burrito at a taco truck, La Estrella, recommended by a local at the bar. I’m mostly vegetarian but after having that “vegetarian” dinner I was so ashamed I drowned my sorrows in marinated pork. Best of all, it was only $4.50.
The kitchen where our shitty food came from…
#316 Take a Pole Dancing Class
Awhile back I signed up for a pole dancing class through Living Social Adventures. When I went to take the class (50 miles away) I was informed, albeit politely, that the classes were for women only. Even though it said no such thing on the site and I was allowed to sign up in the first place.
I sent an email to Living Social and explained that I had spent a lot of money with them. That they didn’t say anything about the classes being only for women and I drove 100 miles for nothing. I asked for a full refund for the class and $20 for gas. To Living Social’s credit, not only did they give me everything I asked for, they updated their site to say it was for women only AND created a special co-ed class, presumably, just for me.
So I was all set. But earlier this week I got an email that said now I could bring a friend along for free. This worried me immediately. Why were they sweetening the deal? I already wrote them back and thanked them for their offer. Unless nobody signed up for this class since it was coed. That meant I would be taking the class alone which of course, scared the shit out of me.
I immediately put up post on Facebook, asking if anybody wanted to go. Kate kindly offered to go with me but when I thought about it, I decided I should go alone because it would be scarier.
Leading up to the class, I was actually kind of dreading it. How would the women (if there were any) react to a guy in the class? And of course, what about this whole pole dancing thing? Was I basically going to have to act like a stripper? Like all sexy and such? I wasn’t sure I could do that. If I were the only person in the class I’d feel shitty, like they went through all trouble and it was only for me.
But it was time to go so I made the hour drive to Costa Mesa. When I got to S-Factor Studios, it looked like there was one girl signing in and four Living Social employees.
“Are you Greg?” one of the girls asked. I said I was. Then she said, “Well, that’s all of you!”
It was me and one other girl in this class, that was it. Great.
But it turned out, two of the Living Social girls were taking the class with us and there were two teachers. That meant six people in the class which wouldn’t make it feel so weird. Then they lead us into the dance room.
It was shoes off policy like a yoga studio because of the hardwood floors. But that’s where the similarities ended. The lights over head were set up like a dance club. Colored lights, spotlights etc. Then there were 5 stripper poles distributed through out the room. They stretched twenty feet up to the ceiling above.
The main teacher was Rachael who was a little firecracker. The other teacher was Laurel who seemed sweet and more subdued. We started out doing some warm up exercises on a yoga mat. The stretches were very different than yoga. A lot more fluid movement. Rolling of the spine and the hips. I had a little bit of a hard time following Rachael because it was so dark and there was music blasting over the speakers. I also felt kind of uncomfortable because the movements were… sensual.
After the warm up, we broke up into two teams to actually learn some pole dancing moves. I went with a Living Social girl and had Rachael as a teacher. The first move we learned was a basic spin around the pole called a firefly. You swing your leg around the pole and spin facing it, your feet sandwiching the pole.
At first it looked kind of complicated but once I tried it, I got it pretty easily.
The next move was kind of like a reverse spin because you’re looking over your opposite shoulder as you swing your leg around and hook the pole with your knee. When I got it on my first time, Rachael was ecstatic. “Are you an engineer?” she asked. Was this an Asian thing? “No,” I said. She explained that men see things spatially in a different way from women and she thought that’s why I was getting it so fast.
Then we learned a move where you spin around the pole with one hand high and one hand low and your legs bent, sort of straddling the pole. That was pretty easy for me as well I guess because I have more upper body strength than a regular girl.
Rachael went nuts when she saw me do it. “Do you do yoga?” she asked. I said I did and she said she could tell because I had a strong core. Then she asked me to try to do the move but this time with my legs straight. When I did that she told me to try and spin my way to the ground which I did. Rachael was doubled over laughing at this point, hopefully in a good way.
Next we all practiced the moves one after another a couple of times. When we spun around to the floor, we had to do this sexy crawl thing and stand up, butt sticking out. I tried to do it as best as I could but I shudder to imagine what it looked like to everyone else.
Then it was over. Two hours had flown by. Honestly, it was a LOT of fun. I wanted to learn more spinning around shit. The sexy, sensual part, I could’ve done with out. But spinning around the pole made me feel like a kid.
We got to have some champagne and then we all watched Laurel and Rachel do a little show for us. It was at this point that I felt really uncomfortable. This was the conversation that happened between my brain and my penis and it’s probably why they don’t want to have guys in the class:
PENIS: Wow! Hot women pole dancing! I’ve got to get up for this!
BRAIN: No! Down boy! This is not a strip club. This is not sexual.
PENIS: But… but the women… dancing… on a pole…
BRAIN: I know what it looks like penis but you’re just gonna have to behave yourself. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of these nice women.
PENIS: This is really confusing.
It was pretty amazing all the crazy shit they were doing. That’s exactly what you DON’T see in a real strip club and that’s a shame. Because what they were doing with their clothes on was a lot sexier than a completely nude stripper half-heartedly strutting around a stage bored out of her mind.
Rachael asked me how I liked the class. I told her I loved it. “You made history. You’re the first guy to take this class!” she said.
I shrugged like it was no big deal. Just another day, another scary thing for SYED.
