Quick update. I've been browsing apartment listings and making calls all day -- very exhausting. And FRUSTRATING! This one lady told me that I wasn't qualified, financially speaking, to live in her building. WHAT? Something about it being 48% of the yearly income I gave, as if it would be impossible for me to pay rent. Dude, I could get by on an average of $30 a week -- MAX -- so I could totally have afforded that place. But after she started talking about it I didn't want it anyway, so whatever.

Suffice it to say that my apartment hunting has not been going very well and I'm wondering what the hell I was thinking in the first place to resign from my position and decide to move out of here. I could've just stayed in the same job and lived here with my mother through my forties until finally deciding to shoot myself through the brain and nobody would've said anything like, "Oh, such a shame; he had so much potential blah blah blah," because they wouldn't even have been able to say it with a straight face anymore. Hahahaha.

Also, saw The 40 Year Old Virgin this weekend. Thought it was funny, but one thing that I found kind of odd was the representation of the male body in the film. I mean, I'm well aware that not every guy out there is cut/buff/etc., but really the only shirtless male torsos that I'm familiar with are my own and those of fictional characters and sculptures -- or similarly buff guys in magazines or jogging through the streets -- so it was kind of weird to see these guys whose bodies were quite noticeably less than "perfect." I mean, I know I've seen other men without shirts who weren't "sculpted" in my lifetime, but apparently I just looked through them, because they failed to leave an impression on my mind -- whereas watching the movie I couldn't help but see these kinda flabby (and hairy) guys and it just struck me as really weird. I dunno.

I'm tired so I'll sleep now. Ja!

Today a letter about PANDAS from your pal Wes appears in the Washington Post Express! Be sure to snag one if you're in the local area, but if not, a pdf copy is available online (you want the 8/26/05 issue). But here's the relevant part:

Alas, I can't take credit for the titular reference to Gwyneth Paltrow's brood, but the rest of the letter appears in more/less unedited form -- I had a parenthetical "Eeeeyy!!" that followed the mention of FONZ (Friends of the National Zoo), but that's about the only change. Sweet!

Yeah, I know it's just a short (and hopefully funny) letter, but this is my first published clip that wasn't in a student-run newspaper or magazine or online, so I'm pretty pleased. More to come, perhaps...?

I'll say more about other stuff later, including the previous entry. But off to work for now -- ja!

(Note: This entry isn't really that serious, but it does address an issue in more/less analytical fashion and thereby constitutes an "essay" of sorts... and, as such, I've tagged it accordingly.)

The other day, The Anonymous Blogger asked, "Why do so many women prefer to date/mate with men that are of taller stature than themselves?" It's a valid question -- though it sounds odd coming from a guy who's 6'1" -- and apparently interests more than a few people, as a number of answers, concerns, and even solutions were voiced in the discussion that followed in TAB's comments section. For example, Caren suggested that shorter men wear platform shoes in order to close the height gap and make themselves more attractive to women. "I'm not saying you SHOULD change," she writes. "I'm just saying that if this is really a big complaint, get some shoes."

Granted, on the surface, this seems like a viable solution for short men. Okay, I'm lying. At a glance, this enterprise seems doomed to failure -- and, of course, it is. Instead of simply rejecting the man because he's too short -- which, despite their criticism and often hurtful comments, women understand isn't really the guy's fault -- they would turn him away with extreme prejudice for attempting to mask his height with ridiculous elevator shoes. But let's pretend for a moment that the idea isn't wholly devoid of merit. Caren's rationale admittedly makes a certain kind of sense: "If a man shows up for a first date in the shoes" -- with the caveat that the shoes don't look too silly -- "then there's a better chance that a height-obsessed woman will be attracted." However, that argument presupposes something about the reasons that women prefer taller guys to shorter guys -- which we'll see in the following pop culture example. (more...)

Feeling pretty shitty tonight. Why must I be right about everything? It would be nice to be wrong sometimes, especially with respect to my life, future, relationships, and so forth. Sigh.

So as you'll see in a moment, I didn't get around to cutting my hair after all. I decided to try and squeeze in a single hour of sleep, and when I woke from that I was going to cut my hair... until I reasoned that doing so with so little sleep would probably have been a bad idea, decided against it, and slept for a little longer. As far as the "interview" itself goes, it was over far too quickly -- I was back on the street within a half hour -- which may not be a good sign. But besides that, I think it went well! Of course, I almost always think my interviews go well, but, with the exception of retail jobs, I've never been offered a position for which I interviewed. In fact, during the undergrad admissions process way back in the final years of the 20th century, I went on an interview for only one of the five schools to which I applied -- Princeton. Guess which school was the only one I didn't get into? Princeton. Maybe I come across as an asshole in person -- which would explain why nobody particularly enjoys my company.

And here go those pics of me in a suit, as promised -- I didn't get around to taking them before I left, so I took a few when I got back. See that smile? I'm the world's best actor. By the way, if I'm right -- and I think I am -- that is the same suit that I'm shown wearing here, twelve years ago. Think about that for a moment. And goodnight!

So I don't think I'm going to sleep tonight. I've got a job interview (or something) at 8:00 AM and I've still got to fill out the rest of this application form and iron the suit that I dug up (yes, they want me to wear a bleeding suit and tie) and cut my hair. An interview, you say? Yes! While I'm planning to relocate to NYC in the near future, I'm sending resumes out both there and locally -- and if I can land something good in this area, I can see sticking around for another year or so. I'd still move out, though; probably close to DC if not in the city itself. So anyway, I've got to prepare for that (though somehow walking in there without having slept a wink seems counter-productive in that respect), and I also want to send out a cover letter and resume for another job in NYC tonight -- among some other duties that I'm sure I'm forgetting at the moment but will hopefully come to me at some point tonight. Rah.

Anyway, here's a quiz (!) gacked from pretty little Wendy-go:

Which Star Wars character are you?

Kinda on point for a quiz that didn't offer answers that I felt were particularly applicable to me. (Except for that part about being a loyal companion who gives a 100% effort when I'm needed most, 'cause no one ever needs me!) Interesting. (more...)