Dude working out with a set of wired headpones on the treadmill.
I was at the Gym this morning, not that you could tell by looking at me. However, I did get several looks working out in my DJ Slims wireless bluetooth headphones. It could be the constant flashing bluetooh light on the headphones, but I also think the hardwired house wives, gearing up for marriage number two, or the aspiring MMA skull crusher seeing if he can make his Deltoids literally extend further out than his head, are admiring my wireless bluetooth headphones. I can tell they are tired of trying to find a slick and seductive way to hide the cord of their wired earbuds or headphones down their shirt, or scantily clad boobage cover i.e workout bra (This is actually a huge plus for the wire and me as a spectator). Anyways I do think it is ridiculous that the rest of the world doesn’t cut their cords and switch to a wireless product. It is clearly inevitable, and just a matter of time . . . be a trendsetter will ya!
CES is an interesting show. It’s not at all for a brand such as ours. It’s more of a khaki shorts and Sketchers type of atmosphere. But perhaps, just perhaps, that’s why we make such an impact.
I’d like to go on record and say that Las Vegas is a terrible place. It’s a shit salad of tacky carpets and cigarette butts, peppered with saggy boobs and fat people. Fattys. We did, however, rent a pretty kick-ass house, and that’s where our story begins…
Having spent the previous night as any sensible pair of twenty-somethings might, watching cartoons, swigging a Costco-sized bottle of Glenfiddich and making an absolute disaster out of the game of billiards, we arrived at our temporary home on our second night in town to find the front gate wide open and the door unlocked. Imagine our terror. We’d been joking about meth-heads pretty much our entire stay in Las Vegas, but it looked like the joke was about to be on us.
Adam had arrived that morning, so there were three of us at this point. We all crept into the dark house.
“Hello…? Please don’t kill us, Mr. Meth-head,” we whimpered. Nothing. We made it to the back room and each retrieved an example of the perfect self-defense weapon: the pool cue.
For some reason shower curtains scare the shit out of me. I used my pointy stick of ultimate protection to violently push them aside whilst flailing backwards and screaming like a girl. All was quiet. 3 more showers to go.
Unfortunately enough, there were no crack-heads to stab us to death, so we had to go to the tradeshow.
Stoke level was high, possibly the highest I’ve seen since our young brand began. Imagine, you’re navigating a sea of boring Consumer Electronics companies when you stumble across our glorious hand build mountain range and Airstream Trailer. We were a breath of fresh air in the smog of microchips and laptop video cameras (We were next to the Trojan Vibrator booth though… so there was that). Top it off with some witty commentary and innovative products, and you’ve got an oasis.
Trade shows are both boring and repetitive, yet at the same time hilarious, should you find yourself with the right people. What began as a critique on the occasional show-goer turned into an American commentary of ridicule and hilarity. I tend to abide by a doctrine of not talking shit, but this went out the window just a few hours into it.
First came the guy that wanted to sell us a remote for a remote. Then the guy who questioned what use the Turtle Shell (our wireless speaker) could possibly be so long as headphones existed. Then the guy who had you engaged in a conversation about how he overcame premature male pattern baldness before you knew what was happening. They would always approach casually, with their badges turned around so you couldn’t see who they were, hands in their pockets, snooping, lounging about under their cloaks of anonymity until you gave in with a sigh and asked them how they were doing. Then they’d bite you, tear you limb from limb like zombies determined to drag you into their soulless worlds, force-feeding you information and opinions you could not, from the very depths of your soul, find a way to care any less about. There was never anywhere to run.
Soon it all started blending together. Anyone who’s been to a tradeshow knows what this is like- One minute you’re giving the sales pitch and the next you’re fumbling around Vegas’ Foundation room, pouring yourself greyhounds and talking to whoever will listen. You’re building the booth, then you’re ripping it down, then building it again but you don’t have everything you need, so you’re in Home Depot searching for it, and then you’re back in the convention hall, but you forgot something so you’re back in Home Depot.
Coffee turns to beer then back to coffee then to scotch, people expect you to remember their names and time just slips away in a tornado of flat tires, bars, robots that wash windows, bad room service and dead batteries. You have a sense that you know what you’re doing, when in reality you’re just pacing around, inserting and excluding yourself from different surroundings and situations so quickly that everything just becomes a steady flipbook of wardrobes and expectations, each with a defined entrance and required form of identification.
Still, it’s a fun ride. We found crack pipes for sale on the tops of convenience store counters, Old Vegas cocktail menus with witty, misleading drink names and sad, empty little bars with tiny red lights that washed over you, Sadie-Hawkins-in-the-mid-eighties-style.
Keep an eye on the blog for more stories from the OT Crew’s winter tradeshow tour, and as always, stay stoked.
“Be thy labor great or small, do it well or not at all.”
-Chinese proverb
…And this, my friends, is how one does it well. This is a Budnitz Bicycles Model No. 3 City Bike, fashioned by a company started, owned and run by none other than Paul Budnitz. It is equipped with a six-pack beer carrier by Colorado-based Topo designs, and, yes, a Turtle Shell wireless boom box and Turtle Claw handlebar mount by Outdoor Tech. It is clean design, simplicity, music, beer, and beauty all mashed into one glorious package as equally suited to 5 o’clock after-work jaunts through the city to a friend’s place as weekend cruises through tree-lined parkways towards a picnic in the hills. Sure, you could do either of these things aboard a seventh-hand, rusted-out Huffy that has been stuck on one cog for as long as you can remember and suffers from faded, two-tone graphics that didn’t look right even when they rolled onto the local department store sales floor sometime back in the early nineties. But that’s not why designers get up to go to work in the morning, and that’s not why we stare at the ceiling every night, trying to figure out how to make things look better, work better, and make more sense, even in the last few minutes before we fall asleep.
For those that don’t know, Paul Budnitz is a living legend in the vinyl toy, street wear and design industries, as well as the creator of Kidrobot, a company working to bring different artists’ visions to life in the form of toys (www.kidrobot.com). His latest venture is Budnitz Bicycles, an effort focused on “…creat(ing) the fastest, lightest, and most beautiful city bicycles in the world” (source: www.budnitzbicycles.com). Do they do this well? Well, check out their website and have a look for yourself. Budnitz is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a C+ sort of guy, and we were honored when we got the call from him to participate in building this ultimate city machine. Of course we wanted to help create the greatest two-wheeled transportation ever to grace the stretch of sidewalk in front your favorite coffee shop. That is why we’re here; we are Outdoor Tech, and we make stuff to compliment your adventure, whatever that adventure may be. Stuff that makes sense. Stuff you probably want. Budnitz came calling with an opportunity to help us achieve that goal in yet another way, and we were happy to do it.
Maybe the best news to come out of this is that this bike, complete with the Turtle Shell and beer carrier, is being given away. You can enter to win it at the link below, and if you do, you’ll soon be cruising to the local house party at 10 o’clock on Friday night, tunes pouring from the Turtle Shell out into the warm night, full beer case clinking softly, ear-to-ear grin across your face. There’s plenty to smile about: Tonight, tomorrow, and every time you ride that bike, there’s no one doing it better.
A good friend of ours, NYC comedian Sam Rubinoff, checks in with a guest post from Brooklyn:
Everyone in New York City is sleep deprived. Most of us are clawing at a dream while struggling to stay afloat. Last week, my roommate and I eyed a storm creeping up the East Coast which promised good waves. The plan was to leave from Brooklyn on Sunday at 5am to catch low-tide on Long Beach, Long Island. That morning I got back to my apartment around 3:30am after performing a couple stand-up comedy gigs. I wanted to sleep but I couldn’t. I was too excited about the forecasted swell. For the next hour I flipped through infomercials and thought about buying a Snuggie.
On the drive to the beach I was sleepy and a little delirious. Taillights were blending together and I pounded a coffee to stay awake as navigator and DJ. We arrived as the sun was rising over some sexy waves. And as I dropped into my first wave I wondered how anybody could sleep though this.*
It was a hot July morning at a skate park in East LA. On the set for the Turtle Shell commercial, we had our new spokesman John Ennis, our pro stunt double, and our professional, super-hot model. The goal was simple: make a short film demonstrating all of the glory of the Turtle Shell, and have some fun while doing it.
What developed instead was a testosterone-fueled competition for the affections of our lady friend- an action sports tour de force of sorts. Captured on camera by Angela Boatwright, this is a photographic record of the ensuing debauchery. Find more of Angela’s work here: http://angelaboatwright.com/index.php/portfolio/category/C9/
For some reason, John wanted to do his own stunts after she showed up. We shrugged and handed over the bike. His childhood talents were still intact, but that was about where it ended.
He stuck around the set, though, if only because he was real into the Turtle Shell: the go anywhere wireless boombox, built for action. It got him a bit of attention. Here it is in detail:
The stunt double proceeded to do his thing though, taking the Turtle Claw handlebar mounting accessory through its paces. It was a tough act to follow, to say the least…
But who won the girl? Well if you’re asking that, you clearly didn’t click the link at the top of this article and didn’t watch the film we spent all day making, so shame on you. If you did, then you know before you even started reading this…so I guess that killed some of the suspense; but regardless, it was a good time, right? We think so, and we’re pretty smart.
Since I’m such a nice guy, here’s the link to the whole commercial feature presentation again. You don’t even have to scroll back up:
In keeping with our mission to donate annually to the 1% For The Planet Foundation, we have selected the Boise Bicycle Project in Boise, Idaho as our 2012 recipient. In their own words:
“Boise Bicycle Project (501c3) is a community-oriented effort to promote the personal, social, and environmental benefits of bicycling. It functions as a bicycle recycling center as well as an educational workspace in a diverse and non-threatening atmosphere. Through education and access to inexpensive bicycles we strive to build a stronger bicycling community.”
BBP is helping to put bicycles in the hands of kids and adults alike whom might not have had the chance to ride otherwise. Their team includes over 3,000 volunteers and have recycled and reused over 5,000 bicycles, in addition to donating thousands of bikes to children in need.
OT’s commitment to cycling runs deep. We are proud to support the Boise Bicycle Project in 2012 and beyond.
It seems like it’s always a long road. The harder you work, the more there is to do. My mother (probably like a lot of mothers) always used to tell me that the only way to get anywhere near completion of anything was to take steps. Just put one foot in front of another, she’d say, day-by-day, do the best you can.
The Turtle Shell Wireless Boombox, our latest and greatest product, has been one of those roads. Over a year in the making, bringing it to production has meant countless hours of designing, testing, thinking, rethinking, traveling…you name it. It’s finally here, in all its bike-mountable, water-resistant, dust-proof glory. You can pre-order it, and it will be in your hands by October. Get it here, it’s our final step:
Fortunately, we will soon have new roads to travel. To all our fans, promoters, athletes, family and friends, thank you for your continued support. Much love.
Grinding away at a sport, an art, or a craft is only part of life as a whole. It is something that many of us love and understand. I remember growing up I would spend every second I could riding bikes and dirt bikes, skating and surfing. All afternoon. All weekend. I would push and push and push myself and go as long as I could. Eventually, though, every session would come to an end, and as it turned out, I began to realize that there was a whole other life that took place when my legs were too tired to keep moving. A big part of that other life was hanging out with my people. Naturally, hanging out with your people evolves into the dating thing. We all do it, and it’s tough to navigate. Luckily, our good friend Meg has shed some light for us on the whole idea, because let’s face it: catching waves is way easier. Dig it:
I am pretty and boys like me (or how to be a relationship ninja)
Welcome.
……to the first ever published documentation, column, essay, word document of my (Meg’s) 10 commandments of dating/relationship/general advice you should apply to your life in regards to the opposite sex and pursuing them.
Please print and put on the nearest wall in direct relation to your cubicle, bedside, kitchen counter, toilet seat and washing machine.
(for all you freaky types)
…I don’t do this very often.
In fact, you all are very privileged to experience what may be the first ever time, I share full disclosure my advice in regards to talking to, thinking about, attracting the opposite sex.
Some disclaimers before I continue:
1- First and foremost, I’m not Megan Fox. I’m not Kate Upton. I’m not Adriana Lima. I am not a model, actress, international pretty person. In short, like all of you— I must work with what I have and what I have isn’t necessarily always top-shelf. However, what I lack in exotic breath-taking beauty, I make up for in common sense and an incredibly smokin’ personality. Also, a really, really hot sense of humor. See? You’re smiling. Notice what I did there? You already want me.
2- Probably even more importantly than point 1- There are exceptions to every commandment below. What I say from now on occasionally does not apply in various situations. I’ll try to keep my thoughts simplified and generalized for the most part for this very reason. Because really, what I don’t want to hear from this post is this: “But (Love-doctor) Meg! This boy said this and that goes against what you said in your 5th commandment point right under line 87 and blahblahblah.”
…Please people. Use your brain. I am only human here. And even I, in all my infinite wisdom about the opposite sex, still find myself stumped from time to time.
In short my pupils (fun word to say out loud. try it) –this is simply a guide. Some helpful instruction. It is not the Bible. I am only the messenger. A baby beardless Moses. Not Alpha and Omega. Not God. Because come on- Jesus Christ, Mary and Bieber, don’t you think if it were that simple I would be hooked up with this guy by now?
…On the other hand, I’d like to think that if my first disclaimer wasn’t a reality.. sigh (AKA I looked like this?) Maybe I would have Ryan Gosling. I don’t know. Attraction is a very complicated thing.
And I know it’s been a while since I’ve done a Top Ten Tuesday. And you’re all in luck because this baby is going to absolutely blow your mind. It’s going to make fireworks show up in front of your eyes. You’re going to go straight over the moon with this one. It’s going to tie you up, and hold you down and push you against a wall and….. Woah. Sorry. Distracted. What were we talking about?
Anyway.
Meg’s 10 commandment montage of miscellaneous men advice:
or how to be a Relationship Ninja
(Because completely categorizing what I am about to share
would be unfair and limiting to my Attention Deficit suffering creative genius)
10. Thou shalt be aware of the hormone Oxytocin.
Yep, the good ‘ol love hormone.
While many may attribute the plot of the Notebook to fate and soul mates and passion and true love– I believe it is pretty much soley Oxytocin’s fault that Allie was in love with Noah several years later EVEN AFTER being engaged to a smoking hot McDreamy character.
….which is why I will also give you the cold hard truth in that the hormone Oxytocin is also the reason you tend to become a clingy, needy, pathetic shred of a woman after hooking up in the back seat of last night’s prince charming’s 2001 Honda Accord. Classy.
Now, I’m not a doctor (though I firmly believe Grey’s Anatomy has lent me a solid wikipedia guide of medical terminology that I use pretty regularly when I go out to bars and pretend to be a Stanford med student) but basically, the way I see it- is that it is THIS EVIL HORMONES fault that I’ve seen girl after girl after girl get stuck on loser after loser after loser and convinced herself that he was equivalent to some god-like Justin Timberlake James Franco character when he was really just some asshole who had bad taste in shoes and used terrible grammar in text messages (gr8 catch gurlz!). Furthermore, it is my understanding, that men produce little to no oxytocin where as women produce large amounts of it following intercourse (Like how smart do I sound right now?) and therefore, is why men can have casual meaningless sex more often/frequently than women can.
So. What’s my point? Well sadly, there’s really nothing we can do here women. It’s a hormone your body produces and thus, it is my understanding, that you can’t really turn it off (if there was a way don’t you think I would have figured it out by now?). However, maybe you’ll think about this next time you have one too many jager bombs and you find yourself about to get handsy with some guy who refers to himself as The Chad and has the mouth of that small creepy fish that lives in the abyss of the ocean that scared Dory and Marlin in Finding Nemo. Oxytocin is blind ladies. And also-you’re welcome for your new mantra to explain yourself when you don’t listen to me and fall for The Chad regardless.
(from the female version of the famous Ice-T quote):
….Hate the hormone, not the girl.
9. Thou should utilize being a “damsel in distress” to thou’s best ability.
Sure, guys can typically do a lot of things girls can’t do. But instead of encouraging you to try to compete and challenge that- I’m going to ask you to try the opposite. Use your own weakness as a strength. I mean if we’re going to be the “gentler sex” we might as well go balls to the wall with it, to use a male anatomical cliché to aid our supposedly female vulnerability here. What am I saying? I’m saying if you’re going to be a damsel in distress, do it right dammit.
Twirl your hair. Bat those eyes and say things like: ”but I just don’t get it” and “can you maybe help me please?” and “I’ve never done this before, I feel like you’re so much better at this than me!” and fan those testosterone masculine driven flames like a champ. Then? Kick back, relax and get away with countless shit you just couldn’t do if you didn’t have boobs. Anatomy is a wonderful thing if you know how to use it. So is acting like a stupid girl. Tee-hee.
Oh.. sorry! I’m not supposed to park here? But I’m only going to run inside for a
quick second. Can you just make a little exception just this once?
8. Thy neighbor’s girlfriend is probably prettier than you. Thou shalt get over it before thou’s friends attack thou with duct tape and shove thou in the trunk of a car.
For the love of everything Bieber-related, can we please stop peering over pictures of (insert pretty person banging your ex-boyfriend here) and asking your friends, “But… I’m prettier than her. Right?“
Take a clue sister. It doesn’t matter if you’re prettier. Smarter. Cooler. Funnier. All of the above. He clearly likes someone else better. Otherwise… he would be with you. It’s actually a pretty simple concept. Don’t overcomplicate this. She could look like the inside of a vacuum cleaner and if he’s calling her to come over and not you, you could be the biggest catch who walked the earth and it wouldn’t matter. You can color your hair dark because he likes brunettes. You could lose 10 pounds cause he likes skinny bitches. You could start wearing 10 inch heels and dress like Princess Leia and IT. WILL. NOT. MATTER.
Have chick flicks taught you nothing? The very basis of every rom-com stems from the fact that the fake, unnatural, plastic girl always loses. So stop comparing yourself. The fact is you aren’t whoever you so desperately desire to resemble. You’re you. And if you want your life to be a chick flick so badly, well stop acting like the evil mean plastic girl type and start behaving a little more like the girl next door. Oh and for the record– Kristen Stewart looks like a crack whore. I realize this is slightly irrelevant and out of left field but I need to say this and I don’t think I’m going to be able to slide it in anywhere else. Moving on.
7. Thou shalt shut up about thy high-maintenance-ness.
Guys are visual. They see you all put together and they think, “MMMMM Damn girl. You lookin’ fine.” (or whatever) …And we’re all like yeah, duh because it cost me 40o dollars to get my— WOAH, WOAH WOAH. Stop. What do you think you are doing right now? Under no circumstances, do guys want (or really need in my humble opinion) to hear about all the maintenance it takes to look that good. They don’t need to hear about all the waxing, plucking, shaving, dying, painting, brushing, scrubbing, rubbing, ridiculousmanipedifacial routines that goes into your beauty regimen. So stop over-sharing. Think of it like this. Guys supposedly think about sex like 500 times a day right? Do you need to know about every guy who pictures you naked? Do you need to think about the last time that they washed their hands? Do you need to know the specifics of every dirty thought that crosses the mind of every male you’ve ever spoken to? No. No, no you do not. They have theirs and we have ours. He doesn’t want to hear about your latest blow-out. You don’t want to hear about his latest blow job. Life is beautifully symmetrical like this sometimes. So please, don’t mess with the order of the world and keep your waxing horror stories to yourself.
6. Thou aren’t a virgin. Thou aren’t a whore. Thou are somewhere in between. Thou needs to chill. Thou is a fun word to write.
The fact of the matter is, there is a double standard in society that says you reach a certain number of people you have slept with and you should start lying about said number. This could be anywhere between 5 and 15. Guys can brag about this number. They can make it higher than it actually is. They can even say they’ve lost count and people pat them on the back like they’ve discovered the cure for world hunger. Girls do the same thing and they get the look:
The societal girl-code understanding is that you do not want this look. “The Look” is pretty much synonymous with the modern day Scarlet letter. ‘The look” is associated with judgement and shame and regret and too much tequila/vodka and
OH MY GOD IT WAS ONE TIME!
..Look, I get it. You made a mistake here and there. And the truth is, the numbers game isn’t going to actually stop. And you’re going to keep lying about your tally. And all of that is actually fine in my non-judgemental book. Really my only point is that, you’re own worse critic. And because of that, you are the only who really needs to care about this game. So stop beating yourself with the same stick. Adopt a new philosophy. Own your number. I applaud you. Who wants to go through life a celibate nun? (Edit: I looked up statistics and apparently, there are actually a lot of people who want this. But still.) Good news–You’re not a whore. Whores get paid! Too far? …Well, at least you’re not Kristen Stewart.
This also brings me to my next point…
5. Thou should stop waiting for some guy to decide if what happened last night was indeed a “one night stand”
Alright. This is the situation:
So and so (friend/sister/ miscellaneous girl-type) comes home around 11 AM Saturday morning looking like… well, she’s looked better. You ask her about her night. (I will subtitle her response):
“Well, I’ve been talking (texting) to this guy for a little while now (probably about a week) and he invited me over to hangout last night (cough cough booty call) and well, it went really well (He dropped me off this morning and sped off with a fist pump and a see ya never honk). He wants to hangout again maybe again (right. I believe that.) sometime this week (wow, yawn. How cliche can you be Mr. Guy?). I don’t know (Yes.. you do girlfriend.), he seems pretty cool (Define cool. Cool like he’s never going to call you again or cool like maybe he will around 3 AM next Saturday night?)
Anyone know EXACTLY what I am talking about? Yep, you do. Whether it was you or not, we’ve all seen this occur. Unless you are this woman, then the guy is banging down your door begging to hang out with you ever hour on the hour.. or at least that is what I am told. My point is, when the hell did it become the guy’s decision how a relationship will unfold? What if I just wanted a one-night thing? What if I want a like 3 times a week thing? What if I wanted a completely physical relationship for like 6 months and then I become your girlfriend? What if I want to give you my house key and make you dinner and get married and have 3 red-headed babies with you?! When did I lose my ability to have a decision here!? Can we just cuddle?
… Sorry, that’s the Oxytocin speaking.
Anyway, what I am saying is that most of the time, most girls get into a physical “relationship” with a guy with the hope it will go somewhere, but also with some stigmatism that ultimately, it’s the guy’s decision if the relationship goes anywhere. And I hate that that’s the case. So you know what? Next time? We’re staying at MY place. And I’M dropping YOU off. And then I’M going to get YOURnumber. And then you know what? I get to decide if I want to call you or not. And maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just add you to my tally and kick ass and take names. I don’t know. That’s not my point. My point is I live my life like a relationship ninja. I advise you all to do the same.
4. Thou should never underestimate the power of having the opposite sex as a wingman.
A guy wingman (or a wing-girl if you are a guy) is something I firmly believe to be a “game-changer” in any kind of bar (or wherever) prowling experience. Really Meg? You may be asking yourself. How can this be? They could be working against me by keeping all the hotties at bay! This could be disasterous to my game.
And to this I say NO! Because as long as you and your wingman are working for eachother, you can be an unstoppable tail-catching dynamic duo force!
And I will now tell you why.
This is because your opposite sex wingman actually thinks like the opposite sex. They can give you insight that you wouldn’t normally get from a girl or guy friend. They can also approach a “POI” (Person-of-Interest) without the risk that said person will become attached to your wingman instead of you. They can tell you if the POI is a skeeze, or a slut or remove the drunk goggles that have lodged themselves to your skull. In some cases they can even literally pick you and carry you fireman style from a situation that would make you cringe with dignity stripping humiliation the following day (I’ve actually been in this exact situation. It’s a little alarming and you’ll be a bit upset but you’ll thank your wingperson later.)
An opposite sex wingman is an invaluable asset to your arsenal. Trust me here. It’s like the golden gun in the James Bond Nintendo video game. Except better. Because we aren’t 10 or trying to kill international animated assassins and also, analog controllers are like so 1997.
3. Thou should avoid getting weekend blue balls at all costs.
I think it’s normal/fun to go out looking for the opposite sex. But to let it ruin your night because you don’t meet that one guy or girl is sort of insane and also really depressing. I call this syndrome SMBB or “Sunday Morning Blue Balls“. Basically, you go out with the hope that either
A- you and a certain guy will finally hit it off-
or
B- that you’ll meet that guy you’ll finally hit it off with and thus proceed to point A.
When you build your night up around this 9 times out of 10- it will typically end in disappointment/frustration.. and in some cases, a Wendy’s Baconator with a side of large fries. It’s shitty. And I know this because I’ve been there. Not the Baconator part since I’m a vegetarian, but the whole building up the night because you think the stars are going align and be #bestnightever status. Because as Murphy and his law tell us, the night typically goes horribly off-base when you do this. The really crappy thing about SMBB, is that you can’t really control it. You can’t help but get your hopes up sometimes.
So put on your party pants, don’t over-drink and most importantly, under no circumstances allow yourself to be driven to a fast food restaurant when the night doesn’t go as planned because there’s probably nothing worse than waking up feeling like a rejected beached whale.
…Unless of course you wake up looking like Kristen Stewart.
2.Occasionally, thou shalt do it for the story.
I’m a sucker for a good story. I don’t think that will come as any shock to any one. There are some things I have done in the past and I will continue to do so in the future for the sole fact that it provides me with an interesting monologue to share after whatever happens has been given enough time and distance to really appreciate. This stems from my belief that a good story is better than no story at all. I know it will sometimes usually go badly. I know that it might end in embarrassment (usually my own). I know that I potentially will get in a little bit of trouble. That this probably isn’t the best idea. But the world is full of people playing it safe. And they get to sit back and read and see other people’s lives from their couch. Me? I’d rather lose all my dignity temporarily than miss out on the thrill of saying I’ve done something.
I’m not saying to go home with a complete stranger when he offers you candy people. What I am saying however, is that with great risk comes great opportunity. And goes hand in hand with great experiences. With great memories. And at the very least… great stories.
And my number one piece of miscellaneous man advice?
1. Confidence. That’s all. (Thou can thank me later)
Regardless of your goals, whether that’s to get your Mrs. Degree to Mr. Trust-Me-I’m-A-Divorce-Waiting-To-Happen-I’m-A-Doctor or just find a kindred soul to walk to the local Planned Parenthood with tomorrow morning– Own it. Yep, I said it.
Confidence.
Self-assurance across the board is sexy. Stop fishing for compliments. Stop looking for ways to garner more attention. Just walk into every room you are in with the confidence of someone who knows how to run their way around it. And then do so.
And that’s really it. That’s my biggest and most important piece of advice. Confidence may not get you the person of your dreams every night. It may not be the answer to making every relationship work out. It won’t prevent you from getting pregnant. It won’t guarantee you a date for Valentines day, or your birthday or your 2nd cousin’s bar mitzvah. But.. let me refer you back to my second disclaimer all the way at the top when I say.. Hey, maybe it will.
So whenever you’re feeling vulnerable? Here’s a semi sac-religious tip. Look in the mirror and say to yourself. “Hmm. What Would Meg do (WWMD)?”
