27 May 2012

Social Media Explosions

Recently I've had a bit of an adventure in social media, some for good, some for bad.
Humor is very important for me. I love humorous things. I thoroughly enjoy making funny comments, hearing hilarious comments, and just laughter in general. As such, it may not surprise you to learn that I spend my nights lying in bed thinking of funny things that happened, or at least could have happened.
The other night I was outstretched in bed thinking about Obama publicly supporting gay marriage, and I thought up a conversation that would be really awkward (aka, funny for everyone else) if it happened. Well, when you're retelling a joke you can't say 'Wouldn't it be funny if..... happened.' Instead you have to just say it as if it actually happened. So I wrote up a conversation that would have been really funny. I then posted it on Facebook. For those of you who don't have Facebook (just my Mom and Kim Jong Un [don't give in Mom! I know you're not tempted]), here's how the imaginary convo went (this is exactly how I posted it on Facebook):
My Girlfriend: Umm, I know it's only been five days, but there's something we need to talk about.
Me: Sure, what's up?
Girlfriend: Marriage... Your thoughts?
Me: Wow. Well, yea! I'm all in! Let's set a date and do it!
Girlfriend: Er, I was talking about Obama's new stance on same sex marriage....

Most. Awkward. Moment. Ever.
Now, as all you Holla Atchya! faithful know, what I write should rarely be taken seriously. I tend to embellish the information a little, take some creative liberties, and be more entertaining than factual. My Facebook friends don't really know that. This status became wildly popular (by my standards) with over 40 'likes' and 12 comments within the first two days. Wow! Everyone seemed to think it was funny and I was really Facebook popular. But then it started transferring into real life. Being popular on Facebook is a whole lot different than being popular in real life. First I got some texts from people congratulating me on my girlfriend that I was talking marriage with, even if it began awkwardly. Then I got a phone call from my cousin asking about the new woman in my life. I had to squash that rumor pretty quickly because my cousin is wildly popular herself and if she is misinformed my whole family will assuming very incorrect relationship facts. I cleared things up with her, but that didn't solve the problem. Another cousin of mine said my girlfriend asked 'Who the heck brings up marriage when they're talking about Obama and not your relationship?' I don't think she quite got it. Another friend congratulated this fictional girlfriend for so skillfully getting information on marriage out of me without directly asking. When my brother called to ask me about my girlfriend I was legitimately shocked. He knows me well enough to know that the story wasn't all true, but he was hoping there was some truth in it. Nope. The only truthful part was that Obama recently had a conversation about marriage that I read about. At this point in the week I learned I needed to put some sort of explanatory comment on my post, but I didn't get around to it. The very next day I went to a dance party, and two different girls came to me requesting more information about my awkwardly marriageable girlfriend. Ahhhh. By this point it had just gotten annoying. Enough it enough, you know? I was surprised more people didn't pick up on the fact that it was all a fabricated joke. I finally updated my status on Facebook to express it all as a joke, but fear the damage may already be done. I may have to conjure up a funny way we broke the engagement off just to put the story to rest. Turns out people actually believe what they read on Facebook...
In other news, I was part of a documentary being filmed at Duck Beach, North Carolina last year. It's all about a 'Mormon Spring Break.' It followed four Mormon singles during Memorial Day weekend last year, and documented their joys and struggles with Mormon singledom. I'm pleased to report my blurb was chosen to be in the official trailer. I can't necessarily say the movie looks completely accurate, nor do I think it's really going to be positive press for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but it's fun to see myself on a movie preview. It can be found here: http://duckbeachmovie.com/ (When you go to the link press on the big play button in the upper right hand corner). Mormons, for the most part are good, wholesome people, regardless of what this teaser suggests.

13 May 2012

The Beltway Bombers!

With the start of a new professional baseball season comes the onslaught of adult softball leagues in the Washington, DC area. This year I am a participant, and our first three games must be recorded for posterity's sake. I still don't know the score of our very first game because I was only able to make it to the second game of the doubleheader, and the first outcome was so bad no teammate was willing to inform me.
Me: 'Hey, how did the first game go?'
Teammate 1: 'I plead the fifth.'
Teammate 2: 'Have you seen Terminator?'
Teammate 3: 'Looks like rain.'
Me: 'Sooooo did we win? What was the score?'
Teammate 4: 'No one got injured!'
Coach: 'Hey David, can you play backstop tonight?'
In our few games I have played a variety of positions- left field, first base, bat boy, batting-gloves-tester, and a special position my coach calls "backstop." Whoever is playing backstop has one of the most important jobs on the team- he/she has to get all the softballs that get past the catcher. Since it's slow pitch softball (underhand lobs basically) there aren't too many pitches that go beyond the catcher (and umpire, coincidentally. He catches 90% of the balls that get past the catcher) but the ones that get away from those two I track down like a hawk preying on an elephant.
My favorite position of all is the bat boy. Similar to the position of center fielder where every decision is a split second choice between catching the ball with your non-mitted hand or going for a (not necessary) dive headfirst into the grass to scoop the ball, the bat boy must bravely face the decision to present the hitter with a legitimate metal bat or with a hollow bat filled with peanut M&Ms. The metallic bats always produces better hits; 'better' being defined in the eyes of softball elitists as a bat/ball connection that produces a base runner. My definition of 'better', however, is a hit with the hollow bat. What's better than a shower of peanut M&Ms all over the infield off of what normally would have been a foul ball? Everyone is surprised, including me because half the time I forget which bat I offered the hitter.
Now, about those base runners. We had one last week that literally came out of left field. There we were, in the middle of a thrilling game when this hefty guy comes barreling into the game, bends down, swipes 3rd base, and runs off with it. No one saw it coming and no one has seen it since. Even the umpire was flabbergasted. He asked if we could use my left shoe as a replacement base; a decision I did not feel was inspired considering he had an extra base bulging out of his back pocket. He claimed it was a first base, and therefore would cause serious confusion to the hitters, not knowing if they should run right or left upon a hit of the ball. Whatever. He had knee high socks on and that's all I require for respect on the diamond, so he was legit. Plus, I suppose I can see things getting a little confusing if there were peanut M&Ms all over the field as the runner headed left, toward what traditionally is '3rd base.'
While I haven't learned all the scores, I can safely say we have not won any of our games. Some were closer than others (20-2 being a closer loss than 23-1) but they were all semi-hard fought. I sure do enjoy playing though! If you're in the area on a Monday night come on by and watch the Beltway Bombers!

02 May 2012

Shopping Trip

Saturday, April 29th 2012, was a good day for me. I recently acquired some extra money thanks to a tax refund and I decided to do my decennary clothes shopping trip. I buy clothes about as often as Titanic is released in theaters. When I see Kate Winslet on a floating door I know it's time to visit the mall. Ten years ago I was 16, garnished with a license, and ready for independence. As such, I went shopping on my own and learned that my style sense is somewhere between an Amish minister and Lady Gaga. This time around, in my mid twenties, I decided to narrow that sense down a little with the help of a trusted friend, Ophelia Payne. That's not her real name, but it was her real sentiment in regards to my wardrobe. Ophelia was kind enough to dedicate her Saturday evening to my case (you could call it a cause, but truthfully I am more of a case). We began at H&M, which I learned is not a food store specializing in ham. That's probably why I'd never been in one before. H&M was crowded with all sorts of people, none of whom looked European. We spent well over an hour in Hennes and Mauritz and found four lovely shirts- two for work and two for play. We didn't buy any pants because I don't possess Flamingo legs which, apparently, is a prerequisite to fit into any of their trousers. I brought several into the dressing room, and succinctly failed at even getting one leg into all by one pair. Once on, Ophelia agreed that I looked more like a Civil War era soldier with his long johns on than an Occupy Protestor (ie- the ultimate hipster).
Our next stop was the escalator, which provided some nice downtime (HollaAtchya! original), and then it was off to Banana Republic. One look at the $250 blazer was enough to remind me that I didn't even pay that much in state tax, effectively knocking out the idea of spending my state tax refund on this Latin American clothier.
Gap left nothing but a chasm in my desires, a divide I could not cross. I was tempted to bridge my wallet with my brain, but alas, the gorge was too much. I left Gap agape.
So off the the Old Navy! The Old Navy has more variety than the new one, but still specializes in navy blue seasuits. I am pleased to report that the employees of the Old Navy have much cleaner language than the New Navy seamen and seamstresses I've been around. At this fine nautical establishment Ophelia and I found one pair of short shorts that are bearable on a man such as I.
By this point it was late into the night and the mall was closing. The middle school patrons were all at home, peacefully listening to One Direction lull them to sleep. Ms. Payne, and I however, were not done. Off to Target!
 Target is always on target when it comes to clothes. And electronics. And household items. And cookingware. I can pretty much buy anything at Target except for CDs. Why? Because you can't buy CDs anywhere any more. It's a shame and the CD player in Beyonce is getting very lonely. I tried shoving a piece of mail in the CD player but it just wasn't the same. Beyonce spat it back out like her hubby spits rhymes on the mic. Anyway, I got another pair of shorts at Target and a nice blazer. I'm not sure yet how to wear the blazer, but I think I'll be able to pull it off with the right pair of jeans.
Next decade when Titanic is released again (this time in 4-D where they actually flood the theater with ocean water) I will certainly take a fashion forward friend like Ophelia with me. She was of the utmost help.
PS- I just read in the Washington Post that when LeBron and Chris Bosh came to DC to play the Wizards, they partied at Josephine. Woot woot.