Adventures in Internet Dating Part 2: An Unexpected Follow Up

Being 6'1" I a accustomed to looking down to some degree if I wish to make eye contact with a woman.

This was before I met with The Tall Lady Brunch Society.

I was a out on the town in DC with a friend of mine. A 5'5" mousey girl with straight shoulder length hair and a passion for interesting shoes and 90's rap, I have known Sammy since grade school and is one of two people I hung out with in High school that I actively maintain contact with.

In any event over the course of things we dropped by one of her friend's apartments, the inestimable and Founder of the Tall Lady Brunch society, Ms Julie.

The apartment building was swanky; the kind of place that has art tastefully arranged on comfortable furniture in common areas that no one will ever use and nary a speck of dust to be spotted. We take a key fob operated elevator to the third floor, wander down a plushly carpeted hallway through a large wooden door and into the presence of the Tall Lady Brunch Society.

This is not to say it was currently brunch, this was more of a football Saturday informal gathering. Strewn over several couches and over stuffed chairs facing a large flat screen tv are seated a group of 5 all in their mid twenties watching a college football game.

Of the group two catch my attention. One, a blonde wearing a Michigan jersey, catches me off balance by telling me, her eyes not leaving the screen, that the good guys are ahead, following her statement with a loud 'Gators!' in a strong southern slur.

The other is a brunette who, unfolding herself from the chair she had scrunched herself into to get some finger food on the table by the TV, is unexpectedly close to eye level with me. I do not remember clearly, but I can well imagine that a sly smile crept over my face at that moment.

In the Tall Lady Brunch Society Sammy is an honorary member, like the class guinea pig is nominally a part of the class. I was to learn later that the shortest of the full members is a mere 5'9". Ms Julie coming in a 6' dead, and another member not then present 6'1".

We did not stay long, only just long enough to finish a sup of tea to fortify us against the cold of the day before Sammy and I wandered on. We met up with the group later though at the bars and I don't know if it was just her or if it was the 4-5 shots of caramel vodka I had had at Sammy's place before we went out but I found Ms Julie remarkably easy to talk to.

I am not sure we share a single common interest but I found myself just nattering on about random things. Internet, I think it is safe to say that I would not mind bumping in to Ms Julie the next time I am out in DC.

Alas it is that I foresee the seeds of my destruction already evident.

You see the great tragedy of tall women is that being women they still want their man to be taller, and not just taller but head and shoulders taller. Tall women still cling to that fantasy that all women have that the man they are with will be able to rest his arms on their shoulders without having to point them skyward.

Sadly I cannot meet this criteria. Of course, being the smooth talking, sly grinning fellow I am this will not stop me from trying.

Note to the Internet: Sometimes when you drink wine out of a large mason jar you have trouble gauging how much wine you have poured for yourself and you end up telling the world a great deal more than you expected.

Adventures In Internet Dating Part 1

Yes world, I have tried this internet dating thing. A free site to be sure, as I am far too broke to actually pay a site to find people for me.

In any event, I like to read and sometimes I get bored on the internet. What does this mean you ask? It means I have spent way, way too much time reading random women's profiles. However, from my extensive research into the field of women's online dating profiles I have noticed a few commonalities which I will summarize in a section I like to call:

Things In Women's Profiles That Amuse Me

#1. 'You [man] must be at least X tall, because I like to wear heels.'

I can admit, that I have seen some mighty tall ladies in my time. In fact I still regret one of them.

I was walking around with a friend at a mall (she wanted to drop by a specialty tea store. This information is in no way pertinent to the story other than to say I generally do not hang around malls) when we passed by this store rather obviously named Tall Chick.

Out of this store stilted this woman I would estimate to be in her early to mid twenties, my age. Honestly I can't remember her face so I have to assume she was blindingly attractive, but that is not what matters here because I am not superficial. What matters here is that even at 6'1" this girl easily had two inches on me; she was wearing flats.

I immediately realized how impractical it would be to make out with this girl, to say nothing of taking her as a lover. I would need a step stool just to kiss her. All of this made her a challenge, which made her irrationally captivating. I accepted the challenge.

I was plotting my opening lines when I got distracted by something my friend was trying to tell me. When I looked back she was gone. Vanished.

You'd think it'd be easy to find someone that tall even in a crowd of other people, but she must have been part wizard because she disappeared.

Thus went a major tragedy in my life.


Anyway, while I have seen some tall ladies most are of normal height, which is to say generally a shade shorter than me. This leads me to consider two possibilities:

1) Somewhere in America there are whole flocks of well endowed women (vertically speaking) looking for men. If this is the case, and you live in or are willing to drive to Baltimore you should totally send me a message. Because I am so totally not shallow and want to try taking a ridiculously tall chick as a lover. Bonus points if you are a redhead, extra super bonus points for freckles.

2) Somewhere in America there are tiny men, all of whom are on this free dating website, presenting a problem for the women on the site who do not wish to tower over their date.

Of the two I prefer number one for what are of course only the most honorable and selfless of reasons.


That wraps up part I of Adventures In Internet Dating. Need dating advice? I am really terrible at dating and am the perfect person to supply you with suggestions! You may ask me any of your romantic questions in the  comments so long as it isn't gross.

In advanced of the advice I will dispense: you're welcome.

Wet N Wild Nail Polish, A Product Review

There is a rule in writing that says: write what you know. This rule I am going to ignore.

There is a rule of quite sensible people that says: everything in moderation. This rule I am going to cheerfully ignore.

There is a rule of loud obnoxious people that says: go big or go home. This rule I am going to follow.

There is a term in psychology called state-dependent learning, which wikipedia describes as the effect of things learned in one state are most easily recalled when the subject is again put in that state. For this reason the writing of this product review will have to wait until I get another glass of wine.

Wine acquired--and let me tell you: last year was an excellent vintage--on to the Product review.


So I had a bit of a pest problem of late.

Normally I abide by the strictest of rather lax 'live and let live' policies. Somehow though there exists this class of living things which I tolerate to live in a general sense as long as they are not living where I am living.

My particular problem was flies. All of a sudden I woke up one morning to find an entire flock of flies buzzing around downstairs.


This was not to be tolerated for several reasons:
1) flies have an obscene fascination with my ankles and my person in general, and no matter how spastically I twitch them away they come right back.
2) they are one of the creatures the 'live and let live' rule does not apply to
3) they are dirty
4) I hate them

Usually, I would clean a few things and feel better but I had an entire buzzing barbarian horde flizzing around downstairs. My choice was clear. This was going to be a no holds bared cleaning holocaust.

Every dish was soaped spotless.
Every utensil was cleansed.
The floor was swept, scrubbed, and moped.
Furniture was moved, dusted, swept and mopped under.
Trash cans and recycle bins were purified.
All traces of flies, living or otherwise were obliterated.

And amidst the lemon scented aftermath I surveyed my triumph. All was glorious, right, and remarkably shiny.

My work done I retired to a glass of victory wine, and the embrace of the couch, only to discover my labors were not yet complete! I had forgotten a bottle of pink nail polish.

I had found it on the lower shelf of the coffee table, and set it aside for later.

I sipped my wine. I remembered seeing this pink nail polish before. It was Rachel's, my roommate's girlfriend, but it had been here forever. Probably was all dried out and not even good anymore.

Well if that was the case I could throw it out and gain another, though admittedly minor victory for the allied powers of cleanliness. A test was needed and instantly devised: I would try painting the nail of someone's  big toe. If everything went as I suspected nothing would happen and I could throw the bottle out.

A test pilot was needed to command this risk filled mission and instantly volunteered. I! I would be the hero to determine if the polish worked. The risks were huge and terrible, the reward trivial.Life, limb, and pink painted nails were on the line here, there was zero room for error.

 Another sip of wine and I began.

As much as several moments passed in the dreadful anticipation of waiting. Wondering if the stuff was a dud only to discover-----!

That no, it still worked.

So then I had a painted nail. Fortunatley by this time I had consumed most of the glass of wine and another brilliant scheme was hatched: I would paint the other big toe, to even things out.

By the time that was done I had consumed the whole glass and the decision was clear I should really just go ahead and paint all my toes.

This is how I ended up with pink toe nails.

Now to the product review:

Nail polish is a lot trickier to apply than it appears at first. Some painters tape to put around the edges of my nails would have been quite helpful.

I also discovered that I have far from a steady hand, and at the rate at which the stuff dries it is impossible to get an even coat.

Other than that this stuff is bright enough to put your eyes out and will bring a silent knowing smile to your face when you think about what your coworkers would say if they knew at that precise moment your toes had pink nail polish on them.

Now you know, choose wisely.

The Wanted: Wanting for Nearly Everything

There are some criteria for having a successful pop band:

1. you can have comically attractive band members or
2. you can have rich substantive lyrics or 
3. you can have a wildly catchy beat 

I'm Glad You Came by The Wanted however, has none of these things.

Attractive Band Members
The first mistake made in this video is that the director clearly went to the guys and said "Ok mates, what we're going to do for this shot has pan to each of you giving the camera your sexiest face. The girls will eat it up."

The second mistake was that the results of this gag reel were put in the first 20 seconds of the video. But lets go through them one by one shall we?

Max George: the buzz shaved one, for his sexy face goes with a face of deep contemplation. It was if some attractive woman had just asked him to add 3 and 5, like he is about to reply in his most seductive voice "Shhh girl, lets not talk about algebra right now."

Nathan Sykes: the bookish one. I would say that for his sexy face he pretends he is a puppy, but that appears to just be what he does all the time. Sure in this picture he is dressed like a gay cabin boy from a 1800's whaler but he is paler than chalk so that must mean he is attractive to British women right? I hope not because his sexy face is filled with as much passion and character as a bus stop.

Siva Kaneswaran: the almost foreign one. The simple fact that he has skin tone has to make you question if he is British or not but with lips thicker than a phone book the question is put to rest. It is only his musty sense of fashion that assures one that he is one of the Queen's men because no one but a Brit would wear such things. His sexy face is top notch, with parted lips staring wistfully into the rising sun. This I am sure is what was going through his mind at the time. Unfortunately if you watch the video is some guy with enormous lips looking like he is choking on his own tongue.

Jay McGuiness: The only band member that is even slightly attractive. He is paler than bleach, tall, with a mop of curly hair. He didn't make himself look like an idiot attempting a sexy face, and by the way he dances is quite obviously British. The scene of him dancing is like watching a toddler that has managed to stand but hasn't quite mastered walking. One gets the feeling that the director took the model he was dancing with aside and said to her "Look, I need you to make the best of it you can. We've done 30 takes already, he still hasn't got it and we're out of time." You also get the feeling the other band mates know he is the only halfway decent looking one and secretly hate him for it. Which is why he is always banished to the edge of the group in any photo.

Tom Parker: The Scarecrow one. The similarities are astonishing, not only does he look like he hasn't eaten in weeks but his eyes are completely flat. When putting on your sexy face you stare off into the distance like you are to burdened with thoughts of this one girl you ardently desire and can't get out of your head, like a beautiful symphony playing in your mind that you heard live and will never hear again. This guy stare off into the distance and you expect to see the look of silent music in his eyes and instead you see--nothing. It is as if there is not even the faintest spark of thought in that grey matter between his ears. Instead of putting on a sexy face he seems to have been impersonating someone in a vegetative state.

Clearly then we have not gone the overwhelmingly attractive band member's route. What about the second category?

Lyrical Content:
I was watching the video and I was a little ways in when the chorus started up and I realized that I could not remember the main verse. When I watched it again I discovered that I could not remember the main verse because there isn't one.

The song is literally the chorus twice repeated.

It's a plan so stupid it might be brilliant! So moronic it just might work! I say might there because I was being kind. Really, no. It's just stupid.

To make matters worse the lyrics they do have are laughable. Trying to dive into them to get some greater meaning is like taking a high dive into some sea foam that washed up on shore, you're just kidding yourself. These lyrics, sound as mature and thoughtful as the scribblings of a middle schooler about his crush.

"I like you a lot
more than I like Friday pizza lunch days."

Thank god no one buys cd's anymore or they'd have to print the lyrics on the inside of the front booklet for everyone to see.

Clearly then they did not get famous by lyrical merit. What about the third category?

A Catchy Beat:
All I have to say here is that while the band is British, whoever put their music together was French. You can tell by the prominent accordion in the song.

Manager: This song needs something...
Composer: Accordion!
Manger: Accordion?
Composer: Accordion!
Manager: errr, are you sure?
Composer: Accordion!
Manager: You're right! How could I have not seen it before? Yes, lets add lots of accordion.

What then could possibly redeem this song to account for this group's popularity?

Well, I have thought long and hard about this and here is what I have come up with: accents.

These guys have British accents. Women love British accents. It is that simple.



You're welcome.

Light Theory

Special relativity says light always travels at the speed of light regardless of relativity.

If I am standing still, and a train passes me going 100km/h I perceive the train as moving at 100km/h.
But if I am in a train going 100km/h with another train running along side also going 100km/h the other train appears to me to be standing still with me. If a third train pulls up on the other side of my train going 110km/h it appears to me that this third train is moving at 10 km/h because relative to me the difference in speed is 10km/h.

Now imagine I am in a train going 5 km/h and the through some mix up there is a train on the same track going to opposite direction at 5km/h. We are going to collide and to me it looks like the other train is moving towards me at 10km/h. 10km/h because the net of our two speeds in opposite directions means we are coming together at 10km/h.

This does not hold true for light though.

If I were moving at 95% the speed of light towards a bright lamp post and I measured the speed of light coming at me from the lamp post, I would find it was still moving at the speed of light, not 195% the speed of light like the net of our two speeds would suggest. Light cannot move any faster or slower than the speed of light.

Here is my theory:
Because light is incapable of changing speed, to conserve energy light must change its frequency relative to the objects velocity.

In other words if I was again moving at 95% the speed of light towards a lamp post, our net speed would be 195% the speed of light. But because light can only go 100% the speed of light it would have to dump this extra 95% of my forward progress into its frequency.  Thus the light from the lamp post wouldn't be visible anymore it would be converted into gamma rays which would melt my face off. Since all light is on the electromagnetic spectrum the light would blueshift into gamma rays

Thus I would only be able to see the lamp post in visible light if it were also emitting radio waves which would shift up to visible light.

What does this say for the objects behind me though? Based on this reasoning if I were heading to the lamp post at 95% the speed of light, away from a large gamma ray gun behind me, looking back I would suddenly perceive the gamma rays as visible light.

The Universe is a beautiful place.

People On Walkways

A mini rant:
On a paved walkway wide enough to allow two cars people need this much room:
A fat person: 1 meter
two friends: 1.25 meters
a couple (long term): 1.25 meters
a couple (newly together): 1.5 meters
a couple (drunk): 2 meters
3+ friends: the entire walkway
An owner walking their dog: the entire walkway + 5 meters

Doesn't matter how wide the walkway a dog owner will bring a leash that long +5 meters so that they can walk on one side of the pavement and their dog can walk off in the woods on the other side. The least hangs out in the middle waiting to trip you or strangle you depending on the height of the dog.

I hate dog owners.

I Swear I Stepped on a Mountain

There once was a mountain, bigger and taller than any other mountain that has ever been or ever will be, and this mountain had a name, he was called Ryan.

Now, Ryan did not start out tall. Indeed, in the beginning he was only as tall as every other mountain, which in mountain terms is to say not very tall. But Ryan hungered to be taller, he hungered in fact to be the tallest of any mountain anywhere. To be so tall that he could reach the very stars in the heavens. 

And so everyday he stretched and he strained in his rocky bed, and everyday he grew just a few centimeters taller. After a while even the other mountains who, like Ryan, wanted to be taller stopped growing, contenting themselves with their new found altitudes.

I am tall enough, they would think. Why grow any farther?

Finally Ryan was the tallest of all the mountains, yet still he kept going.  Gripped by his obsession to pursue ever loftier heights up and up and up he went.  Until at last Ryan stretched so high that his base could no longer support his and with a mighty CRACK!  the stone giant came tumbling and crumbling down to ruin. Boulders the size of sky scrapers ricocheting about like a stampede.

When the dust settled All that was left of Ryan was a single stone no bigger than the size of a fingernail. From there Ryan slipped into depression and spent his days weeping over all that he had lost and dreaming of the time when he was the tallest mountain in the world.  Many an eon did he pass in this way though to him it seemed like the blink of an eye.

One day there happened to be a runner.  This runner had run a couple marathons but now he was reading a whole bunch of stories about how you shouldn't actually wear shoes when you run, you should run barefoot.  Now this runner wasn't very bright, and thought to himself 'Huh, maybe I should try running barefoot.'

And off he went, running barefoot in the streets.  Streets which, while they appeared quite smooth from a distance, and felt smooth when you were wearing shoes, were in reality so coarse as to be only a step above gravel.

Ignoring the pitiful complaints of his poor abused feets, the runner continued until that black and accursed day when his path crossed that of Ryan.

Ryan was stone drunk that day, sprawled face up in the gutter of the inner city Baltimore street. Deciding to take it easy that day since he feet were still getting used to going barefoot the runner decided he would go to the local park and come back.  So he set off never thinking that he was about to have an unpleasant encounter with a mountain.

The run had been going fine until that fateful step, it was a bit cold and wet true, and his feet were giving him their usual complaints, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.  When suddenly he landed on Ryan.

Ryan, awaking with a start from his drunken stupor was caught entirely off guard by the sudden assault of the foot above him.  In his confusion he lashed out.  Pouring all his bitter depression, his bile, burning woe of centuries into the strike he bit deep into the half hardened flesh, giving cry to a tiny shriek as he smote his vengeance.

When the runner got home he knew immediately that something was amiss.  Examining his foot he found the wound, a bruise already forming, looking as if his foot had been struck by some tortured soul.

No mere pebble, nor stick did this he knew.  This is the work of some hidden might which will cause he to walk with a slight limp for at least the next couple of days.