Rained Out

In case you didn't know, I live in the northeastern area of the country, so I was slightly affected by Hurricane Sandy's total bitchfit. Over the weekend, I found that things being canceled because of the weather ain't limited to outdoor activities. Nope, there are plenty of indoor activities that can be postponed for inclement weather, especially here in the future with all the technological advances we enjoy today,.

My reign of rainouts began with the shitstorm that was Sunday afternoon's Cowboys game. (Much like a hurricane, it got a little better in the middle, but still ended with things getting fucked up pretty badly.) It was a level 4 loss, and after I had finished following my own advice of reducing my sobriety, yelling cuss words and harming inanimate objects, I was actually pretty tired (and drunk). So, I put off anything else I was planning to do that day on hold until conditions were better and eventually just went to sleep, since my tag-team partner was off riding her cycle and couldn't be of much situational assistance. (Which also makes that a precipitational cancellation, but I'm not comfortable enough with the whole concept to make that joke correctly.)


You Can't See Me!: the Antisocial Behavior of Facebook, Inc.

*fittedwearer's note: Most of the point of this post is to remind people that the (undermyfitted...) Facebook fanpage still exists. Please be so reminded, follow the instructions below, and tell a friend. Aight, let's do it.

This isn't the first or the last time you'll hear me say that social networking is a unique concept in human history. If you want to hear me go on and on about the effects of it on 3D society and the folk who inhabit it, there are plenty of other posts here to fit the bill. However, today I'm focusing more on the workings of one of the friendsites, Facebook, to be specific.

Love it or hate it, social media is the newest frontier of human interaction, and one that makes it possible to maintain everyday connections which one couldn't (or wouldn't) using other forms of communication. You're not going to call all of your college buddies every day, but you can tag them in a status and make them feel special. You might only see your cousin in real life once a year, but you can talk like they live next door thanks to this new extension of real life.You might not have any real friends, but you might have thousands of followers. Indeed, social networks like Facebook make it possible to interact with more people on a larger scale than ever before...at least, that's what it did before.

Lately you may have noticed it seems like you only see updates from about 25% of your friends, and the rest are just networking ghosts who exist only in the same way that dark matter does...something has to fill in the gap between what you can see and what's actually out there. Sure, in recent times we could explain this rather easily as a few people talking too damn much and monopolizing the news feed, but this is something different. It's not your imagination, you are actually hearing from less of your friends and fanpages. The Facebook system is broken...and they broke it.


All Pink Everything

* fittedwearer's note: Let me start this off by saying I have no vendetta against breasts or the saving of them through cancer research. In fact, as a heterosexual male, I think they're pretty damn cool. They can identify a female from a distance, hold some necklaces in place, make a pillow that mankind has yet to adequately duplicate, and when all else fails, double as two very good reasons to love my girlfriend . In fact, I'm probably the biggest supporter of them since sports bras, and as you will soon see, it is precisely this sentiment that leads me to write today's post. Let us begin.

In case you're colorblind or something, you've probably noticed a lot of pink items around lately. Pink shirts, pink hats, pink cleats and gloves on NFL players...I even noticed the President wearing one of those pink gel wristbands somewhat subtly tucked under jacket and sleeve during the debates recently. Rose-colored ribbons decorate the everything--yes, the everything--in observation of Breast Cancer Awareness month. It seems that companies and other groups everywhere are producing pink paraphernalia to raise awareness and money, and it's all going to breast cancer research and the foundations that support them. I think that's great.

Well, that was a short post.

Wait, that's not what's going on at all, is it?. Upon further review, my ruling is overturned...I think that sucks ass.


10 Shitty Reasons to Have Kids

I'm probably going to piss somebody off with this one, but then again, that's how I know I'm doing my job right. Let's start with a few numbers. There are over 7 billion--that's 7,000,000,000--human passengers on this giant space rock of ours, ten times the amount there were just 300 years ago. Of these, somewhere between 80 and 90 percent will reproduce at least once. That means that 8 or 9 of every 10 people you will ever meet in life will eventually have at least one child.

After reading that paragraph, ask yourself what percentage of people had a baby for even a half-decent reason or are even are fit to have one at all. There's no official statistics on that one, but it sure ain't 8 out of 10 people I know. (I'm not even sure it describes me, even though I actually have one...but then, that wasn't my call.)

That's right, many people--I'd venture to say most--bring new humans into the world for some extremely stupid reasons. Babies are admittedly cute...well, most of them anyway...but like any pet, they don't stay that way forever. You'll have an adamantium-hard time convincing me that the majority of people considered the magnitude of volunteering to take full responsibility for the world's deadliest animal from birth before deciding to have a kid. Indeed, I question whether half as many people would reproduce if the common term was "raise an adult" instead of "have a baby".

It seems as if our odd fascination with developing humans leads us into some pretty irrational decisions, like wanting one of our very own simply because we've reached a certain age, because we deeply care about another adult of the opposite sex, or just because. The fact is that we as a species don't need quite so many offspring period, and those that are made should be created and raised by two (or more) stable and willing people with the goal of sharing their lives and raising a reasonably well-adjusted adult like their parents did.

Instead, we go around making kids for dumb reasons, such as just wanting to see what they look like or because "that's just what's next". There are a lot of extremely common and very bad reasons to replicate one's DNA, a few of which are below:


A Girlfriend for the End of the World

Like a lot of other people, I'm a fan of "The Walking Dead". In case you somehow have no idea what that is (despite obviously having the internet), it's a series following a group of people as they try to survive both the zombie apocalypse and each other. It gets me to thinking about the possibilities if something like that were to happen in real life. Of course, I'd need supplies like guns, ammo, a silent weapon that doesn't run out of bullets (knife, machete, bat, etc.), a little food, and a first aid kit...but those are all pretty obvious to anybody who thinks about it for 5 seconds.

No, what I often think about is who would be my companion in this disaster? A life lived in total solitude (and sexlessness) isn't really worth living, in my opinion. If I didn't have anything to live for and with in a setting when plain old death is one of the best things that could realistically happen to you, I'd only need to bring one bullet for myself. Therefore, I'd probably require a lovely female assistant to help me through these troubled times...and even though I clearly love her, I wasn't sure my current tag-team partner is the best woman for the job.

Naturally, most of the traditional qualifiers like Attractiveness and Measurables go right out the window at a time like this. Picking a partner here is way more function than form, as the zombies think supermodels taste the same as regular women...worse, if anything, being far less fatty and all. Anyway, I thought about it from a semi-logical perspective, and here's what I've come up with as the traits such a chick would need to have (and of course, whether she measures up).


WWE the People (Improving the Debate)

Like I said in that status last night, I watch political debates for an accurate, comprehensive evaluation of the candidates and their policies just as people watch pro wrestling for a good clean fight...not at all. As they'll be quick to tell you, it's only entertainment and you should not try it at home (which makes wrestling more real than politics, but I digress). I look at it for what it is, a lightly scripted performance piece from 2 people looking to advance their careers through it.

In fact, the very definition of a campaign (campaign [n.]- a concerted effort to influence the decision making of a segment of a population, usually by exaggerating the positive qualities or emphasizing the negative qualities of a person or concept) implies that the whole thing is a crock of shit. Still, there's plenty of entertainment to be had by watching two eerily similar politicians argue to the death over their minor differences in an effort to sway people into voting for them...it's almost like a reality TV show, isn't it?

Of course, reality TV is the fakest shit ever to grace our airwaves, but they're not the highest rated, most talked about pop culture shows because they reveal deep truths about the nature of existence or anything...they're popular because you either get to see two idiots get into a shouting match over something pointless or get to vote on who's better at whatever, making you feel like you are truly part of the process, as opposed to the real winner being determined beforehand by shadowy power-types. What could possibly combine the two concepts better than the presidential debates? Of course, for this to work, there have to be a few changes.


Jobbed: a Field Guide to Employment Interviews

So, you're either part of the 10% of Americans who don't have a job or part of the approximately 83% who hate theirs and want to find a new one. Surprisingly, finding a company willing to purchase the better portion of your waking hours at a fair price so you can do their bidding indefinitely isn't the easiest thing in the world.

Looking for a job can be a very frustrating experience. The days are past when one could just stroll into a local business and pick up some hours in the time it takes to fill out an application and print out a uniform shirt. No, finding a job is a full-time job these days. From extensive searches online to inquiring about job leads through one's personal network to attending job fairs where they will probably tell you to go online to continue the process, it's tough to navigate sometimes.

It can get even tougher when you don't have any of what they call "credentials", which are fancy sheets of paper indicating that you have paid an institution a large sum of money to say you are good at something. However, where it can be toughest is once you've actually gotten somebody's attention. At that point, it's a whole new ball game...the object of this game being to do one's best impression of a robot programmed to work for that specific company. In case you, like most people who are any fun whatsoever, don't know how to do that offhand, I offer you the following. Without any further introbation, here it is:


This Can't be (Adult) Life...

Seriously, where was this advice before it was too late?
Back when I was officially a kid, I wanted nothing more than to be grown up. It seemed so damn cool, driving around in the cars everybody gets issued on their 16th birthday, collecting money at will out of those vending machines you needed that plastic card for, using cuss words stronger than "jeez" and "goshdarnit"...to a prepubescent child, that really sounds like the life. (Of course, I now know very fucking well that that's not how the first two work at all, which might be about 20% of the reason I do the third so much.)

All through my first 10 or so years, I may not have fully appreciated the golden age I was living in. These blissful days were for some sick reason dotted with fantasies of being a grownup. I dreamed my kidiot dreams of staying up all night, traveling the world, and generally doing whatever the fu--oops *quickly covers mouth*--heck I wanted. I honestly thought once high school (and college, because that's what automatically happens after high school) was celebrated with a graduation and a smooth, immediate transition into the work world, where each person was given the job they were best at and a house or apartment to live in while they saved up to get married and have a baby or something dumb like that.


The 5 Injuries of a Successful Childhood

Nothing that one of these and a treat can't fix...duh.
As I mention every so often, I now have a kid. He's cute or whatever, but he doesn't really do much that any baby doesn't do...cry, shit, roll, giggle, cry, eat, sleep, repeat...y'know, same thing every little monkey his age does. Like many other babies, he's confused about the way the world works. Sometimes he tries to hurt himself in his confusion by eating things that aren't for eating, regularly choosing the most dangerous activity available, and honestly believing he is immune to gravity, as evidenced by his going over to the edge of every surface he's ever placed on.

Naturally, this stops his mother's heart on a regular basis and I protect him as best I can, because failure to do so will cost me my literal freedom as opposed to the figurative freedom I often lose for the cause...but I see it as something we're eventually going to have to get used to. See, unless we put the kid in a hamster ball, he's going to take a lump or 2 over the next decade or so. Thing is, not only is this inevitable...it's desirable.

Yes, you read that right. I eventually want my child to be injured (and not by me, in case that needs to be typed).

Not majorly, of course...I don't want him to be mauled by a bear or hit by a bus or anything. Those hospital trips are expensive, and I'm not sure I have the coverage. No, I just believe that there are a few minor bumps and bruises that are a big part of any decent childhood. I got 'em, my dad probably got 'em, and I sure want my kid to have 'em too. Sure, they might be painful in the moment for both him and his mommy, but I always remember that old father's saying: "He'll be fine". Aight, here we go...


History Lesions: The Great Gov't Shakedown of 1933

*fittedwearer's note: Ever since I stopped listening in pretty much every class in school, I've found American history fascinating. Not the bullshit you'll find in public school textbooks like how Columbus discovered America, how the Civil War was for the sole purpose of freeing the slaves, or how Hawaii just kind of agreed to be a state one day...the real stuff.

The deleted scenes, if you will...those events and concepts which are just as much a part of the fabric of our country as the Revolution, but are kind of just...not spoken of any more. These American family secrets are like any other family secrets...they're some of the most interesting stories you'll never hear and are far more of an indication of the true nature of the people involved than the stories they'd volunteer to tell. 

However, as it is, they're just kind of viewed as unspoken blemishes on our record, a series of black marks on the name of our country...or, "History Lesions". Aight, without any further introbation, here's the first installment:


The year was 1933. America was going through the Great Depression and newly elected President Franklin D. Roosevelt, elected that year, found himself waist-deep in it. He had run on a platform of hope and change, which, as we know, can work quite well in troubled times. Only problem was, he now had to deliver on these promises and actually try fixing something with the really shitty toolbox available to him.


umf live! (10/1/12): Off and On

Enjoy today's episode of umf live! Updates include print copies of "Expecting (the Worst)", the (undermyfitted...) Android app, details on the return of "Formsprung", and...wait, what am I typing for? Just watch the damn vid...later umf'ers!