What's With Selfies?

Here's something I've been wondering about lately: why do people take selfies?

If you don't know, a "selfie" refers to when a person takes a picture of themselves with their camera/phone and puts it on the internet.

This is what every selfie looks like to me. Do we really need more of these?

Now of course there are obvious reasons why you'd do this. Nobody could be around to hold the camera for you, you might just want a new profile picture, etc. My favorite is when people are on vacation and take a selfie and say "Can't believe I'm here", but we don't know where "here" is because 95% of the picture is taken up by their face. But I'm talking about the people that post pictures of their face on a regular basis and my question is why.

I have a few friends that post selfies regularly, and let me clarify right now this blog is not directed at any one person specifically. These are just my feelings towards the entire ordeal.  I put up on my twitter and my facebook a question "Why do people take selfies?" and no one bothered to answer me.

Of course, no one probably cared enough to answer, which is totally fine. I'll openly admit this is a dumb topic to talk about. But the people who do take selfies didn't answer me and you know why? SHAME. They don't have a good reason.

So here's what I think. I think a selfie is the internet's version of grabbing someone by the shoulders and yelling "TELL ME I'M PRETTY!!! TELL ME!!"

Am I wrong? People post selfies for the attention. Which is fine, it's what the internet is for. I post little jokes and statuses and I like when people say it's funny or whatever. But what I hate is that maybe 3 people will like a joke I make but hundreds of people will like someone's duck-faced bathroom selfie and comment shit like "Gorgeous". Give me a break.

I get that their argument is probably a confidence issue. I'm no stranger to shitty self-confidence, everyone has to deal with it from time to time. But there comes a point where confidence turns into vanity, and a lot of people have crossed that line.

Because here are my hippie-dippie feelings about it: if you need constant approval from the rest of the world telling you you're pretty, then you probably don't think you're pretty.  And that's the problem. The only person you have to convince that you're attractive is yourself. I know, I know, I'm getting all "Oprah" on you. But seriously, work on that self-confidence. It doesn't come from other people. It's about you. 

Then there's the people who claim to consider themselves ugly but still put selfies on Facebook, in an attempt to look brave and get people's reassurance. Stop that: if you truly had issues with yourself you wouldn't be plastering your face onto the internet for the whole world to see. You're not a hero, you're an asshole.

So I don't know what I want from selfie people. Stop? I guess you don't have to. But really I don't know why you wouldn't. Once you've seen one picture of your face you've pretty much seen them all. So I don't know...maybe acknowledge the fact that you're acting like a teenage girl? Oh whatever, in one ear and out the other I guess. Go to your bathroom and take a picture of yourself giving me the finger. I'm sure I deserve it.

Job Hunting, and the Dread That Follows

Well it's the time of year again. Summer! Waterslides and picnics, right?

Wrong. It's Summer. One of your part-time jobs is ending for 3 months. You need to replace it. Actually you need to replace both of your part-time jobs. Actually you need a career, not just a job, aren't you listening to your mother? How are you going to afford things?

It's job hunting time.

Looking for a new job has always been something that gives me a great feeling of dread. I have two jobs currently, and I like them both well enough, but I know I could be doing better. So how does one go about that?

For starters, it'd be easier if I had any sense of direction. I'm not using my Theater degree so I'm literally looking for any new path. In my own little game of Life, I'll pick up any career card that comes my way. I'm also working on inventing a new ice cream flavor.

You'd think that would make it easier for me when I search for work; I literally have all options available to me. Well that's not totally true. I have to siphon through jobs that are too far away, ones I don't have enough experience for, ones that only offer 12 hours a week, etc. It's a frustrating process finding jobs I could consider doing and would still be able to do. Perhaps I'm too picky/neurotic, but right now I can kind of afford to be (this is what I tell myself).

So I look for jobs asking myself two questions: "What can I do?" and "What do I want to do?". The two rarely have the same answer. Because the things I want to do tend to be silly. I want to make people laugh, either in person or through a popular Twitter page, but seriously shut up Isaac. What do you want to do for real.

Well I'm not sure yet. I'm just looking for something to do in the meantime. 

And I'll say I'm thankful that I'm still not looking for theater work. If one of my friends who are looking would like to write a piece about looking for theater work, I'll happily post it. But I am far too neurotic to look for work all over the country that pays $100 a week for maybe 3 months and then having NO IDEA what to do when that's over. And also, you know, I wouldn't enjoy the work and aren't terribly good at it (that's how I started my theater cover letters).

But on those rare instances I find something and the people actually bother to answer me back, we create a whole new level of awkwardness: the interview.

I have had a fair share of bad interviews. In one, I completely forgot how to talk. In another, my interviewer said goodbye by saying "Good luck to you." which of course means I won't be hearing from them. What does one say back to that? "Thanks. Good luck to you too. Sorry neither of us will get that 15 minutes back."

The last interview I had was quite a doozy. For one thing, I was in no way qualified for it and couldn't imagine being a good fit. But whatever, I need experience in interviews so I went. It was winter so I bundled up in my gigantic coat because I had to take two buses to get there. I arrived at the building where I was one of probably at least 30 people they were seeing that day. The waiting room was full of youngish guys in nice suits and pea coats. Pea coats, by the way, are what you where when you have a car during the winter.

These guys also had those leather binder things that looked full of papers. And I kept thinking "what's in those? I have one piece of paper that represents who I am, and it basically says "RETAIL" in bold red letters.". If I had one of those leather binders it would be full of Spartacus fan fiction and blog posts like this one.

I should mention that at this interview I did forget to bring my resume. Stupid mistake on my part, I know. But give me a break, this was my first interview for a job that didn't involve wearing a t-shirt or a name tag in a long time.

So I give my name to the receptionist who is not much older than me. I sit down and fill out their little paper. One of the last questions was "who do you look to as a leader?" and DAMN do I wish I'd written something funny like "The Red Power Ranger" or "Cyclops". It's a stupid question right? What's the point of asking that?

Anyway while I'm filling out this form the receptionist is making small-talk with the other candidates, "where are you from" and the like. She then starts talking to me. I forget what she first asked because she pronounced my name wrong. She said at least 3 times "I-zack." If you've ever met anyone named Isaac before in your life, you know that that's weird and wrong.

So she asked "I-zack" where I was from. And I said (because I'm an asshole): "It's Isaac (pronounced right)". She said "What?" and I repeated myself. "I-zack?" she tried again. "No," I said, "Isaac. You don't have to hit the second part quite so hard."

This took literally thirty seconds and at the end of it, she looked like an idiot and I looked like a dick. At least one other person was sniggering in the waiting room. I thought "well if the decision is up to her, you probably won't get the job."

So the guy who's going to interview me comes out. And he goes to the receptionist "I wanna make this next one quick, I wanna be out of here by 10:30." It was 10:20 at the time. And I thought "Great. Taco Bell opens at 10:30 so this should work out well for everyone."

So we interview. To his credit, this man was very nice for someone who wanted to get out of there. I'll spare you the details of the job (ok, I forgot them) but it went fine. I'm much more comfortable when I know I'm not going to get the job. At the end he said "alright so part 2 of the interview is a group work shadow, where we bring a lot of candidates in and they see the job for a day. If we were to call you would you be free for [this weekend]?"

I said I would, which was kind of a lie. I wanted to say, "Sure. But you won't call me. I look like hell, I don't have a resume, and I embarrassed your receptionist. I wouldn't call myself right now, that's how badly I think this went."

But we just shook hands and both left. And I got a Doritos Locos Taco that day. They didn't call me back.

So I just had to share that story, in the middle of all my job searching and freaking out. Hopefully I'm not alone in this. If I have any advice it's this: 1) Bring a resume. 2) Buy a pea coat. 3) If the receptionist pronounces your name wrong, just let it slide. 4) The Doritos Locos Taco is kind of overrated.

......And we're off.

This last weekend I was fortunate enough to go to the Kentucky Derby. Sounds like fun, right? Something you can cross off your bucket list and tell your kids about years from now. Well that's half right; at the very least, I have a story to tell.

This trip was a Christmas gift from my cousins to my sister and me. We all hopped in a truck on Friday and drove towards Kentucky. Friday night we stayed in a nice hotel in Cincinnati and had a lovely time there.

Then Derby day came. We awoke around 6 and took turns showering. I woke up at 5, little insomniac that I am, and began researching our upcoming day. We had tickets in the infield. Now, when you think of the Kentucky Derby you think big hats and clean bleachers and beautiful people with loads of money. Well, the infield is not like that. The infield is like Mardi Gras or Jamboree in the Hills: a drunken mess.

Now I don't mind a drunken mess. But I originally had brought nice dress pants and a shirt to wear to said derby. After viewing pictures of mud wrestling in the infield and reading stories about people dancing on port-a-potties, I opted for a pair of jeans.

So we left Cincinnati for Louisville. As we approached, it started to rain. I brought nothing for the rain (you can't take umbrellas in with you). We stopped at a gas station nearby and I bought a poncho. It was easily the smartest decision I made the whole day.

So we parked the truck and started to head towards the field. It was a decent walk, and it started to rain. This was maybe a little before 11 AM. We got in, got scanned by metal detectors, and entered the infield. It wasn't as packed and we found a place near the first turn to put our chairs down. It continued to rain.

I can't state that enough: it RAINED. It rained for 4 consecutive hours without ever pausing once. We were quickly soaked clear through and shivering because it was also cold in addition to raining.

But we had high hopes: this was the Kentucky Derby, damn it. Let's do some stuff! So we bought a mint julep. If you've never had one before, it's bourbon. And there's some mint. But it's bourbon. I didn't love it, but everyone else HATED it so I drank it.

My friends Nick and Nate (both of whom are fantastic) did a drawing of me enjoying a mint julep when I told them I was going. This is it:

And here's the reality:

Then I decided I wanted to place a bet. Not on the derby, not yet. We had all day for that. I took a bet on the 6th race. I bet on horse #8, Icon Ike. I figured since we share a name somewhat ("Ike" being a nickname my family uses) this was one of those "go for it!" signs. So, not checking any stats, I placed a bid on Icon Ike to win his race.

Icon Ike up on the scoreboard.

After waiting a hour or so (it's a long process) race 6 happened. From the infield we saw roughly 3 seconds of horses running past.

Turns out Icon Ike runs about as fast as this Ike, and he came in 7th. Gambling sucks. I will never have a gambling problem, because I hate losing much more than I like winning. Also our racing program quickly turned into a sponge, so we had to make up our minds quickly.

Our program, near the end.

After that race we decided to have a look around (it hadn't stopped raining). So we walked under the track through a tunnel to enter the area under the "rich seats". Everyone and their mother was there, to stay out of the rain. It was pretty heinous: thousands of people in a small enclosed space. I had a slight claustrophobia fit as we pushed deeper and deeper into the hoard of people.

What a mess. The hat in the front left belongs to my sister.

As we walked around, it was clear that everywhere was essentially the same: there were places to bet, eat, and buy mint juleps. And that's pretty much it. Your options were: A) to stand out in the rain, freeze, and see a glimpse of a horse race, or B) stand inside where it's warm, not see a horse race, and be crushed by a mass of people.

It was roughly 3 o'clock and we were in our fourth hour of rain. The actual Derby race started at 6:30. At this point I realized there was no way I was staying for that. A text conversation with my mother went something like this:

ME: It hasn't stopped raining. I think we all want to leave.
MA: If you leave you can't get back in.
ME: Yeah. Why would we want to?
MA: To see the parade of roses!
ME: ......I don't think you quite understand what's happening here.

My cousin's coworkers collected money and had her place a large bet on a horse to win the Derby. She did, so we were worried we'd have to stay and watch the damn thing in case they won. But, lo and behold, we learned that if you leave you can mail your winning slip to collect the prize money. Upon learning this, my shivering sister and I cheered and we took a vote: "Who wants to leave?"

It was pretty much unanimous.

So we left. As we sloshed our way out we walked by a drunken gentleman who had laid down a tarp on a small hill and was yelling "SLIP N SLIDE! SLIP N SLIDE! SLIP N SLIDE!". I was too tired to yell "We're ALL wet, asshole! The point of a slip n slide is to cool down in the sun! You may as well be yelling FALL DOWN! FALL DOWN! FALL DOWN! because that's what we'd be doing, ya jagoff."

It was a long walk back to the truck. And we kept passing people going in as we were going out. The drunk college kids I hated when I was in college were still around, just as annoying and stupid as ever. Large masses of people just aren't my thing.

We retreated to our hotel in Lexington. I took a bath, my cousins went to the hotel hot tub. Afterwards we went out to eat at Billy's BBQ. It was delicious: meat that came right off the bone, and it came with a huge slice of cornbread and I tried cheese grits and liked them (so there!).

My meal. Not pictured: the green beans.

I should say that although this sounds like a terrible time, we still kept our spirits about us. My cousin who'd bought the tickets would often break our soaked silences with a hearty "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" and I would laugh every time. Next year she said she was going to chain us to a sturdy tree during a hurricane.

So that was my trip. I got to experience the Kentucky Derby, which involved getting drenched for four hours and watching the actual Derby on TV at the hotel. Congratulations to Orb, the horse that won, although he probably didn't know he was racing. Because he's a horse.

 I'm not terribly upset, I got a decently funny story out of the whole thing. Had it not been raining, I'm sure we would've had a blast but that's the way it goes sometimes.

I should mention it kept raining as we left Kentucky THE NEXT DAY. I don't think I'll ever return to Kentucky, since apparently it likes to rain as long as I'm there. But oh well, there are 49 other states where the weather may be more welcoming. I'll stick to trying those.

Take a Chance on Missed Connections

At the risk of sounding incredibly shallow, let me just say this: I would love to see myself appear on the “missed connections” page of Craigslist.

Hear me out.

Nothing would make me happier than clicking through those links and seeing a description of me. I just want to know that there’s someone out there willing to put the effort in going online, writing an anonymous description of me, and then sending it for all the world to see in the hopes that I’ll stumble across it. I mean, seriously, it seems like a huge compliment.

I know 98% of those ads are just people cruising for sex, and well done for them for being so bold. I can’t say I’m someone who would ever write the words, “You were a really good waiter, Doug from Olive Garden. Would love to get together sometime and see what else you serve up.” What can I say? I play hard to get.

But some of those people have got to be looking for love. Someone saw me taking a nap on the bus or spilling pizza sauce on my shirt and thought “Wow. That’s the one.” I don’t know why you’d need anything else to go on. You can pretty much guess how a person’s going to be just by watching them. “Oh, he seems cool, he has stains on his clothes and doesn’t give a damn!”

And what a great story to tell your friends when they ask, “how did you guys meet?” You can say “well, I was using the port-a-potty at the street fair and he saw me from across the street. He didn’t say anything, but that night he went on Craigslist and wrote about me in the “missed connections.” Luckily I was on the verge of suicide so I was on Craigslist looking for some fast action. I saw his post and thought “what the hell?” and we agreed to meet in a very public location.”

Then there are the ones that have loved already, and they go to Craigslist as a final plea for their loved one’s heart. “Oh Kyle, (name changed for this story) I miss our long text talks together. The few weeks we’ve known each other have been the best of my life. I wish you’d return my calls, I can’t imagine life without you. We have so much to learn about each other: Our dreams, our biggest fears, our last names. Please call. –XOXO You know who”

Damn it, Kyle, just do it!! DO IT!

Granted, some missed connections seem a bit lazy on behalf of the posters. Like “I sucked you off in the park, you seem like a cool guy, would love to get together some time.” Really? Couldn’t have asked that in person? You’re sucking him in the park, THE ICE HAS BEEN BROKEN. Take a chance on love!

Buy anyway; perhaps I’m just desperate for the attention. But once, just ONCE, I would like to go on Craigslist any random day and discover that I’m reading about myself. I’m not saying I’ll respond; in fact I may change the locks to my house. But it would give a great spring in my step to know that someone cared enough to make a useless gesture on the Internet.

In fact, I may make a posting of my own. Something like this:

“You were reading my blog the other day. You probably found it by accident, or perhaps you’re just a virus going around. Anyway, I seem like a cool guy and you’d like to get to know me better, but you’re too shy. Or maybe you read the rest of my postings and thought, “he’s a lunatic”. Either way I encourage you to take the first step. Send me a reply with your name, age, and stats (height, weight, level of attractiveness).”

What? I’m not that desperate.

Coming in Last is still a Victory, right?

Alright so today has been a long day. I didn't have to work either of my jobs, so what do I do? I do the Pittsburgh Challenge, that's what.

The "race" is part of a Challenge Nation series that sets up all sorts of "Amazing Race"-esque challenges in cities all over the country. It's really a neat little system. Teams of anywhere from 2 to whatever run around the city trying to find different "clues" and take pictures with landmarks or people on the street. Can't use cars or taxis or bikes...just feet and public transport (a.k.a. buses). A couple weeks ago my cousin suggest we (me, my cousin, her husband, and my sister) form a team and compete. I agreed, since it sounded like a good time since we'd all be together (they all live out of town).

Well race day came and my cousin, her husband, and their kids were ALLLL sick. So our team quickly forged itself of me, my sister Sadie, and her friend Sarah. I had not learned any of the rules or anything, since I figured my cousin would know, so I learned as much as I could in the 12 hours before the race.

Our team assembled and signed in. Sade and Sarah were in a very ridiculous mood. "slaphappy" is too light a word. "Idiotic" sounds harsh. But think along those lines. We ate lunch near the starting line (Jerome Bettis Grille 36) and after laughing ourselves to tears over nothing funny at all, I made a Facebook posting: "We are screwed".

And then the race began. We were a tad late leaving from lunch, but honestly it didn't matter. People were running full speed as soon as we started. The first five teams get cash prizes and a chance to enter in some bigger race. We didn't think for a second we would be near the first five teams; really we just challenging ourselves to not go home and nap.

So, let's do a photo walk-through of the race, shall we?

1. One of the clues was to take a picture of either a liscence plate from out of town with a W,X,Y, or Z in it or a dog or a live horse or a segway. This was seemed kind of easy, since THE PARKING LOT BY THE RACE WAS FULL OF THE RACERS' CARS, SOME OF WHOM HAD COME FROM OUT OF TOWN. I would like to add that, despite what this picture may look like, I was not high.

2. Another clue was to take a picture of yourself in/near a theater. Well, I happen to work at the Pittsburgh Public Theater so we walked across the bridge into Downtown and...I went to work on my day off. F*ck. I also went to get help with some of the clues from my Pittsburgh-native friends. We got a few results and then pressed on.

3. This one was weird. You had to find a person who lived in a state with an ocean shoreline and then make that shape with your body with them....idk. This was our first usage of my strategy: ride another teams' coattails. This man was from Virginia...so we made Virginia? Trust me, in the end no one cared.

4. Next was to find the Fish Market and try some Cantaloupe Gazpacho. Gazpacho, by the way, is cold soup. Cold soup isn't bad: cantaloupe is disgusting. Those are forced smiles on our faces; we really want to spit out the soup. 

5. This is the train place thing...I really forget the clue. FUN FACT: The police were there to arrest racers for trespassing so everyone had to take a picture like this with the building in the background. I thought it would be funnier to get pics of the police handcuffing/beating/macing us. I was overruled.

6. We next had to find two Furries (there was a Furry convention in town all week) and take a picture with them. Sarah was a bit apprehensive about talking to Furries (it's an unfortunate social stigma) but these two were very nice. I do hate asking people to pose for pictures with us, some people seem annoyed by it. But really, Furries, let's not pretend like you don't want a little extra attention.

At this point we took a totally unnecessary detour through the alley where the Cell Phone Disco is. Then we strolled around the alley for no other reason except for the fact it was shady and cool (it was a hot day). We left when Sarah said the alley "smelled like rape".

7. So...we had to take a picture with someone wearing a college sports team article of clothing, and act out said sport. This nice gentleman happened to see us running strolling leisurely around and offered his services. He asked what they should pretend to do, to which Sarah deliriously said "We could pretend like we're wrestling", followed by about 10 seconds of awkward laughter from our team. We decided that the girls are "tackling" him and he's the quarterback...he was a good sport, to say the least (Get it?!?!?!? SPORT! HA!)

8. We headed to the T (Pittsburgh's answer to the Subway) to return to North Shore. There was a clue where we could make our own picture as long as it pertained to Father's Day. This man had a child. They both look thrilled, don't they?

We got on the T and had a nice little ride where we ran into another team. They were two girls who worked at the Cheesecake factory and this was their first day off in months. The one girl was SHITFACED out of her mind and, holy crap, was it hilarious. I mean really, I died. She talked about one clue where we had to walk into a cascading fountain. She said "I'm going face first into that fountain, I'm gonna tear my freakin' nose off and sue Pittsburgh" and then playfully chewed on her clue sheet. I wanted to be her friend but forgot to exchange numbers. Damn.

9. Ok so there's a cascading fountain near the river, and it's near a landmark where the first World Series was played and we were supposed to walk to the middle and get the skyline in the back...well...the skyline is kinda in the back...and you can see the fountain water...and you can see how many f*cks we give that it's not a great picture. (We don't give any f*cks).

10. We had to find the statue of Mr. Rogers, which was near the start/finish line. His face got cut out of the picture, but let me just say his face is creepy as hell. I mean the statue's face, not Mr. Rogers. Also our faces are getting better and better. You can see I'm holding onto his finger: I took it when we left. I played fetch with a dog in the park with it later. I think Mr. Rogers would have liked that.

11. We employed our favorite rule: follow behind another team by about fifty feet and see what they do. It led us to the statue of The Chief himself, that was part of a clue we were really about to give up on. Yeah.

So we headed back to the "finish" line where there were so many people already done it was pathetic. I signed us in: we placed 280th!!! With a run time of 2 hours, 22 minutes, and 52 seconds! I showed my pictures to the girl to "verify" them to say we got the right pictures. I cannot emphasize this enough: this girl did not give two shits, because we were team 280 and who cares what pictures we have, at least we made it back to the car. I could have shown her pictures of my cats and last week's dinner and she would of been like "ok great, thanks".

Prize for 280th place was a bottle of water and a white t-shirt. I still have my sister's t-shirt. And everybody gets a bottle of water. There were probably (I've been told) a little over 300 teams so...yeah. We get a D- in racing. But oh well, we had a fun time. Perhaps we'll shoot for better next year? We shall see.

Oh, and we got to record our time/team name on the "big red poster" for the world to see. Taking a suggestion from the girls from the lunch we had two and a half hours before, I signed our team name:

The family with kids nearby did not seem amused by this name. Guess how many f*cks we gave?