Background Objects

Sometimes pictures are taken and there are objects in the background. Sometimes these objects are people. These people have tremendous stories that we never know the truth about. Objects have stories too. This is their story.

So I was looking for something to pleasure myself to which meant I was looking at my own pictures on Facebook. One of the pictures was particular sexy. All of The Philippines agree this is a sexy picture. But what is going on behind this sexy picture? Once you get past the awesome jacket, the perfectly naturally sculpted hair held up with sweat because hair gel is expensive, a soul patch that can only be earned by truly having some soul, and a face so adorable you want to squeeze it until the eyes pop out, what else is there?

Let’s talk about what’s going on behind the eye candy. There’s one of those old-timey heaters on the floor. I’m not sure what the proper name for these are. I really don’t like them because they can get really loud at times. I should probably tell my Super about it, but he has a really gross skin disease and I hate having to look at him. He also wore a bandanna with an American flag design once in front of me. Calm down there Easy Rider, you lost the revolution. America is no longer a free nation.

Starting on the windowsill, you will notice a “pyramid” shaped object. This is one of those air fresheners that sits open and slowly emits a nice scent. I had one on my toilet too. I’m not sure how they work exactly, but if it means the smellier the room is the quicker they evaporate then I need to see a doctor.

Moving along to the right you will see a can of compressed air. I use this to spray in the eyes of strangers who ask me for directions. Beside it is a Philadelphia Phillies finger thing with a little duct attachment where it can hang from glass. Do you know what I’m talking about? I really don’t feel like looking its proper name up. The only problem is it doesn’t work very well so it just sits on my windowsill. I think they’re supposed to go on cars. I no longer own a car so it’s going to collect dust. Not for long though. I can always clean it off with the compressed air.

On the refrigerator you will find some more important background objects. The far left end you can see behind a small packet of travel tissues a mini-totem pole. My dad gave me this mini-totem pole. I am not sure why. I think it was his way of saying my father is really a man named John Redcorn. Next in line is a square black object. This is my digital camera. I keep it on my refrigerator because I like to take pictures of pigeons that land near my windows. I also know it will never get stepped on.

Finally we reach my Jason Voorhees action figure in a battle with my Jesus Christ action figure. Two men who were betrayed by camp counselors at Crystal Lake must fight to find out which one gets to claim Christmas as a holiday to honor him. Who do you think would win?

And that’s what’s going on in the background of my life.

Pitching Tents

Once in a while I meet a new person. When you meet a new person you have to learn what they enjoy doing. Sometimes these people like doing adventurous stuff like surfing or hiking. Fans of surfing never have a thing in common with me. Other than we live on the same planet and remove waste from our bodies in a similar fashion. Unless they’re like that One-Armed-Shark-Attack-Girl who no longer can poop. The fans of hiking always let me know that the person is cheap and lives close to mountains. Why not go to the mall and take the stairs if you really feel like climbing? It’s air conditioned. The only bears are the husky gay men with Frogurt trying to pick up the twink who dispenses the sprinkles. Only once have I done something outdoorsy that you adventurous folk like to do. This is my experience.

I wrote a few blog posts ago about different school field trips. Well, in sixth grade they took us camping for a week. The place they took us is called Stokes. I’m not sure if that’s the name of the campground, the town, or a lie the teachers told us. Rumor had it this was the site where the first Friday the 13^th movie was filmed. Another rumor had it that we were just in the same county, but not on the same campground of Crystal Lake. The truth remains a mystery to me. Mostly because I don’t care enough to do any research whatsoever.

 (At least they kept it accurate to New Jersey and smogged out the stars)

Before ascending we had to undergo training. The first part of this training was picking a partner. The day of partner picking was on a Monday, the day I normally faked sick for school. I was lucky to have a friend who nobody liked much so we became partners. Our training took place at a local park. The only activity I remember was having to transport a bucket of water across a jungle gym without walking on the ground. This was pretty dangerous as at one point a kid in my group had to sit on top of monkey bars about 15 feet in the air holding a heavy bucket. I’m pretty sure we got it all the way to the end before some girl tripped and spilt the water. Women–this is why laundry machines are inside. If they were outside of the house we’d probably have a lot more fires.

The bus ride to Stokes was unmemorable. We watched Aladdin, I think. Or Legally Blonde. I might be confusing it with our eighth grade trip to Gettysburg which I totally forgot to write about in my other post. The only thing memorable from that trip was I am still convinced a chubby girl in my class offered me a hand job while there. It felt disrespectful to all those who lost their lives so I stared at her and blushed without giving a solid response to her come on which I probably misinterpreted in the first place.

(I never realized Lincoln was so tall. He could probably sit on the flag pole. Maybe that’s where the rumors came from)

My cabin I stayed in was the reject cabin. Not because all of the other students in it were the biggest losers in school or anything. No. that was merely coincidence. We were the last students to choose partners. We even had the one “three team partners” who had no friends at all and had to become a triple threat. Our cabin was across the lake away from everyone else. We were a motley crew. A Star Wars obsessed nerd with holes in his shoes, a fat kid with pink eye, three redheads, a couple more fat kids without pink eye, and a fat kid who insisted he was Ra the Sun God. No relation to Joe Henderson who once signed my yearbook and believed he was a rival God to Ra known as Fireball. It was just that kind of school.

The trip was about teamwork and learning to hate yourself. I think it was only supposed to be the first one, but the other came naturally. My actual activity group wasn’t so bad. I liked most of the people in it. Even the girls were unintimidatingly cute. Sorry girls. You were all 5’s. Even our leader, who was a local high school senior as they all were, was a dud. He was the only one who was not athletic. He had glasses and a gut. Someone was keeping me among my people.

 (Even the number 5 seems ashamed in herself for being so average and hairy. Much like the girls in my group)

Activities we did everyday had to be done differently. Showering was not done alone. It was done in a room with other boys. Nobody showered completely naked. Some of us even left our shirts on. Then our cabin leader informed us not to be ashamed of our bodies. He gave a really great speech about how we’re more than what our bodies represent. We should learn to love ourselves for who we are on the inside. We showered in parkas after that.

Food was a pain in the ass. Each day one person from your group was forced to be something called a “Cruiser.” I think that’s Latin for bitch. We’d have to actually get up from eating and fetch people at our table food whenever they asked. Yes! They really had us do this. Garlic bread day was the worst. I didn’t even get a piece because Cruisers got food last. What did this teach anybody? I’m not sure. A teacher yelled at me for putting the spoon on the wrong side of the plate while setting up everyone’s silverware. I wanted to run away and cry. Or find out Friday the 13^th was filmed here and that it was a documentary. A machete going through that guy’s face would have been delightful.

My only other good food memory was the night they announced dessert would be fresh fruit. A chorus of boos rang out through the entire cafeteria. I’m pretty sure a few popular girls were overturned in protest. We wanted a real dessert. Pears are not real desserts. After eating though us sickly children would have to go up to the nurse’s station and get our medicine. I was on nasal spray for my allergies. This was an actual woman who lived on the premises year round for all of the school trips. She was a stereotypical redneck. Her husband worked at a gas station and her infant daughter wore no clothes. How could I tell it was a daughter? She wore no clothes.

(Dessert does not grow on trees. It comes from a package of cookie dough)

As for actual activities that took place there was kayaking in water so shallow I could see the salamanders walking around. There was a blind folded rope climb across a river which I do not understand how it was legal. Teachers even shook it while we walked across. This was early 2000. We had just survived Y2K and now you’re trying to kill us on a blind folded rope bridge? We were supposed to learn trust. I learned that slutty looking teachers are not very nice. Our other activities were board games, a variety show put on by the teachers, and a couple of outdoor games like tug-of-war. I’ve always been really good at tug-of-war. Put me in the end loop at the back and watch me sit there like the heaviest object imaginable.

(This is how we were forced to play. Buff, naked, genitals tucked away, and with Lego haircuts. Pretend I’m the grey guy in the back with one arm)

I didn’t mind the trip overall. Some people I know hated it. I think it was because I imagined people being massacred a lot at that age and it helped me get through difficult times. That’s always what I used to do in long car rides. Pretend I had a machine gun aimed out and could shoot everybody. If it rained I would watched the drops race each other. Sometimes I’d combine the two and the rain drops would be racing blood drops. This is something called merging ideas.

P.S. Be sure to fill out your Mad Libs bracket if you haven’t already! Calling something a bracket always gets people excited.

Public Speaking Classes

 

This may end up being sort of a series of things that I write about. Most classes are bullshit. They’re ways for failed artists to scam you into giving them money at the hopes that you can one day be as good as they lied about being. To prove my point, think about how much you really learned in any high school class. Not much, eh? Classes for adults aren’t much better.

When I say public speaking classes, I don’t necessarily have a specific group of people that it’s for. I took a public speaking class in college and it was a big waste of time. I had already done public speaking out in the real world, but it was a required course. I’ve never had to do public speaking against my will and that’s the funny thing about it all. They lied to us saying that everyone has to do it. No they don’t! What’s with teachers lying so much? I’ve known a few people that were teachers outside of schools and they seemed like all right people. I’m fairly certain at this point that they just like fucking with kids and making them nervous that “things will be real tough in high school, this won’t fly!” as many of them would tell us in 8^th grade. Things never get tough because none of us ever get to the maturity level we think we should be at. Just use common sense and a senior won’t pants you.

I remember very little about my public speaking classes. I know my teacher hinted that he had come out of the closet as a homosexual in his 40s and his wife and children were shocked. I wasn’t. He made a pass at me and would rub beards with other boys in the class. He claimed it would “warm up our jaws” for speaking, but it only warmed up the oppressed gay man who had to share a bed with a yucky woman all those years.

A few things that were big in the class were not to say filler words (uhh, umm, fuckburger, like), maintain eye contact (there was one hot girl in the class, even then I looked at her chest), keep a good posture (a kid with a cane got to sit down for his speeches), and dress above your audience (one kid wore ripped up jeans and flip-flops, I could have shown up naked and been more formal). That was all common sense. The teacher should have shown us videos of great speeches by presidents and said “Do that!” He didn’t though. He made us play stupid games that involved encouraging each other and holding our breath in his pants. It was a waste of time if there ever was one.

The class didn’t make me a better speaker. I wasn’t more comfortable in going in front of crowds. Okay, maybe a little bit, but the thing is that I was with the same 25-30 people twice a week for 3 months. We got to know each other so we were better at standing in the front of a classroom talking to them. How does this help with public speaking? The thing that frightens people about public speaking is the stranger aspect. Anyone can talk in front of a room of peers, but with strangers it’s tough. I have a solution.

On the first day of every public speaking class, the class walks in and take their seats. They start to talk, thinking that the teacher won’t show. Just as people begin to file out the teacher enters, naked. He chest bumps everyone he can and tells them to sit down or he’ll fuck them. They’ll sit down, believe me. The teacher then goes over the syllabus. All the syllabus says is “Take off your clothes or you fail.” The class won’t believe this at first, but a few ringers in the crowd will begin to take off their clothes. After a few minutes, everyone will be naked. An entire room full of naked people sitting in cold chairs. Because the chairs are so cold, they stand. The teacher has everyone line up. He informs them that every week they will be forced to get naked in class. Each class they will be paired up with a different person and for five minutes they have to compliment each other. Then for three minutes they have to be judgmental of each other. Then they fuck. It doesn’t matter if it’s a guy and a girl or a guy and a guy or a girl and a girl, there will be private parts entering private parts.

That lasts for the first month or so. From then on, the class is clothing optional. You can show up in the nude or clothed or maybe you just want to wear a bra and boots. It really doesn’t matter. The class will be like any other public speaking class without the garbage waste of time learning how to gain confidence. You will have already had sex with half the class that you’ll be so comfortable or uncomfortable around them that it won’t matter what you say. They’ve see you and you them in the most intimate of situations. Giving a persuasive speech on why you think animal cruelty is wrong will be cake. On a side note, of course that’s easy. Nobody disagrees. Like the one kid in my class who did his persuasive speech on why smoking is bad. Everyone knows smoking is bad dummy. That’s why people who smoke do it. Also, if you get persuaded by one speech then you’re a weak minded tool. That’s how dictators get elected. So don’t be persuaded the first time you hear something. Learn the answers yourself.

Public speaking classes will really take off if my advice was to be taken seriously. It won’t be though. We’re almost as afraid of naked people as we are of speaking in front of strangers. It’s silly really. We’re told to imagine those we speak to as naked. Why not really do it? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re all gross out of shape animals. Lets stop living the lie. It’ll make us better public speakers which will help us when we grow up to become presidents, talk show hosts, or public speaking teachers, the only jobs where public speaking really matters.