Testing My Patience...

As some of my faithful readers may or may not have known, over the past few months I have been studying for the GMAT in order to potentially "turn back the clock" and assume the role of a fulltime student once again. After endless hours of studying, taking numerous seemingly worthless 3 hour courses, and choosing "c" on multiple choice-driven practice answers based solely upon the fact that it's my favorite letter between A-E, I finally took the test last Saturday. However, as is typical with stories involving me, it wasn't so cut-and-dry. Here's the story of why I almost MISSED the GMAT (via timestamp). Enjoy.

9:00-11:15 AM Wake up bright and early (for me) and do a little last-minute cramming while treating myself to a little Sportscenter (it had been a looong time) and some freshly cut pineapple.

11:15-11:30 AM Shower, brush teeth, boring. While in shower, I decide that since it's SO hot outside (about 95 degrees with extremely high humidity), I will ride my bicycle to my 12:30 PM test. This way, I believe I will not only spend less time in the summer heat, but I may even catch a breeze to cool me down a bit.

11:45 AM After "Drooke Dreltzman,"* my roommate/girlfriend leaves the apartment to head out to lunch with a friend, I play with the dog we are dogsitting in an attempt to relax and achieve a zen-like approach to the test.

11:50 AM As I was told numerous times to arrive at the testing center 30 minutes early, I head out to the backyard to hop on my bike and prepare for my 3 min ride to the testing center.

11:51 AM While in the backyard, quickly realize that I forgot the key to open the door to the gate in my backyard "terrace." I head back to the backdoor to retrieve the key.

11:52 AM While trying to open the backdoor, I suddenly realize that I don't have a key to the backdoor either. At this point, I become aware of the fact that I am trapped in my own backyard....

11:53 AM In the midst of sweat beginning to pool onto my forehead, I begin making phone calls to everyone I know within a half-mile radius of my apartment. This includes Drooke Dreltman (8-12 times, depending on if you include hangups), "Flon Flyder," "Reg Roucher," "Krate Kroucher," and my landlord, "Greff" a few times. Pacing is involved, as are questions of how I may be able to hop a 10 foot fence (or dig under said fence) in order to create an escape route.

12:10 PM Resigned with the fact that (I had already gone through each of the stages of loss, including denial, anger, and sadness) I would be missing the GMAT test, I attempt to come up with an answer to the question "Why didn't you take the GMAT today," because I know that "I decided to lock myself in my own backyard terrace" was not really gonna work. My final resolution? Just don't say anything...

12:20 PM SUCCESS! "Greff," my landlord, listened to his voicemail and comes home and unlocks the back door, freeing me from my makeshift holding cell. I run up through the house (patting the dog's head for good luck), head outside, and begin my sprint up Berkeley Street to the testing center...in my flip flops...in 95 degree heat.

12:26 PM I arrive at the test center with 4 minutes to spare!! Unfortunately, my clothes have taken a turn for the worse. My shirt is entirely soiled with sweat, rivaling that of Kevin Youkilis in a day game, I'm dripping sweat onto the paperwork which needs to be signed beforehand to verify my identity, and I'm panting much like the dog I'm sitting had been all day earlier, all direct effects of my flip-flop sprint in 90+ degree heat. The employee at the testing center takes one look at me, shakes her head, and says "I don't even wanna know....".

All in all, the test went generally how I expected it would go. My score was expected, and not great by any means (barely qualifying as "good"), but at least I surpassed my own expectations a bit. Not that I believe my score would have improved, but sweating profusely, tardiness, and borderline physical exhaustion aren't exactly at the tip of anyone's tongue when the phrase "ideal testing conditions" comes to mind.

Just another Saturday, I guess....

* Note: all names have been changed to protect the identities of the persons involved in this story.

"Extreme Contesting"

After a short hiatus, Just What you Expected has returned...I can't guarantee a new blog entry every day, nor can I even guarantee a new entry every week, but the people have spoken - they want just what they expected. As the great Bruce Dickinson would say (when not piloting a plane for Icelandair): "I need more cowbell!" In an effort to produce more content, I'll try to be a little less picky in my blog subjects, and a bit more efficient while wearing both my "writer's" hat and my "editor's" hat.

This weekend, while I was down in NYC drinking, eating, and sweating in celebration of a certain college friend's bachelor party, my parents were at a summer bbq outing at the Hampton Yacht Club near Hampton Beach, NH (those familiar with Hampton, my mother said it had a "fantastic view" of the Seabrook, NH nuclear power plant...which is nice). When questioned as to what this bbq was in connection with, my mother matter-of-factly answered "It was for your father's little contest club." I figured this would be a great opportunity to enlighten my readers about this fascinating sub-culture known as the "contest winners club," and I would go as far to say that my comments and thoughts are only the beginning of what could be a tremendous study of such a strange group of people.

In an attempt to keep this entry relatively short, I'll provide a few things about the "Contest Club" to allow you to get a better impression:

-The club meets every summer for a "summer outing," and apparently there is a "convention" held annually in which all the local chapters of the club congregate in one spot to profess their love of entering contests.

-When asked what the club discusses during said meetings, my mother stated "they usually just stand up and tell everyone which contests they entered and what they won since the last meeting." How this is entertaining to anyone, I'm still not sure. I would imagine there is a significant amount of clapping during this stage of the meeting.

-The club consists mostly of middle age housewives...and my father. Though my mother did state that 4 men in total were at this particular outing, she could not confirm the sexual orientation of the other men. She did, however, note that she was in fact the "only non-member to attend the meeting." Apparently, the husbands of these members have other engagements during these meetings. Can you see my "shocked" face?

-As one would guess, I believe there are also contests which take place during the meeting, but I could not confirm this. I also could not confirm cost of the meeting and/or membership in this "elite" club....mainly because my mother was on her lunch break, and I wanted to get this blog entry out sooner rather than later. This isn't the New York Times, folks...

Don't get me wrong, my father has been extremely successful in his contest winning - we're talking about trips to Disney World, $500 gas cards, Red Sox tickets/jerseys, even a Harley Davidson Fatboy motorcycle, complete with flames on the side (I wish I had access to the picture of my dad on the hog, but the one I found will have to do...I picked this partially due to my love of mullets and jorts, and partially due to the strange manner in which each person touches the bike with only their thumb). But should he be embarrassed about this hobby (read: addiction)? In my eyes: absolutely.

This is not just a hobby to the man, it's a life pursuit. The mere announcement of a contest gets my father excited, to the point where he has even recruited my grandmother to create "contest envelopes" using old pieces of wallpaper. Apparently, the flashier the envelope, the better chance that it gets picked; that is, only if the winner is selected by hand. If it's some automated selection process...well, I can't express the sadness expressed by my father in words. I'll just use the phrase "emotional exhaustion." I even believe there are magazines, podcasts, and newsletters in connection with entering contests in order to discuss various strategies/contests/crazy people who have won said contests.

If I were to even try to relate this contest club endeavor to something, I guess it would be similar to that of "Extreme Couponing," whereby crazy people attempt to save hundreds of dollars by cutting out and utilizing every possible coupon they come across, to the point where it may in fact affect their normal lives in some manner.

As I've stated, I believe I've only hit the surface of this fascinating "hobby." I sincerely hope that someone has more free time to explore the subject in more depth than I can offer. A case study of my old man would be a nice start. With my father's upcoming retirement, I can only expect his participation in contests to increase tenfold.

* Full disclosure: I have never watched Extreme Couponing, though I do not question the validity of my particular word choice of "crazy" to define this group of people.

"Who's That Girl?"

Recently (read: today), I was reading through one of my favorite Boston-centric periodicals, the Improper Bostonian, and I came across one of the most entertaining sections of the magazine, the "Impersonals." Why is the Impersonals such a great section? Think Craigslist "missed connections" meets "To Catch a Predator."

The following is a verbatim listing of the entry:

To the 8:30 AM blonde angel on Newbury Street: I'm having a "Who's That Girl" dilemma. You stole my heart without saying a single word. We've passed one another daily on Upper Newbury Street near Urban Outfitters around 8:30 AM for months now, and you have my undivided attention. I'd love to stop and chat with you, but we're both traveling at warp speeds in opposite directions. You're 5'6" with shoulder-length blonde hair, stunning looks, always wearing sunglasses. Everything about your style and demeanor brightens my world. I'm the handsome 6'4" Swede with shoulder-length hair sporting colorful European soccer jerseys hoping to attract your attention. Help cure my crush, as I broke out Madonna's Immaculate Hits CD, and it's starting to make sense to me.

Don't get me wrong, Sven, I'm not one to judge another male - sounds like you have a lot of things going for you like:

1. You're Swedish (chicks dig foreigners - think the Chef from the Muppets - everyone loved him!)

2. You're tall (hell, you've got at least 6 inches on me)

3. Um...you're Swedish??

Now, let's talk about the choices you've made in your life which are, in a word, wrong:

1. I can't speak for females in the greater Boston area, but unless you are a rock star,Rafael Nadal, or one of the Three Tenors (who doesn't forget Jose Carrerras), shoulder length hair may not be acceptable anymore...

2. I don't care if you name drop a Madonna album just to find some way to use the word "immaculate" in a sentence to describe the girl you stalk, but there's no getting around the fact that not only do you have said Madonna CD, but you have implicitly admitted that you were listening to it as well....

3. Actually, let's think for a minute: what's more embarrassing? The fact that you own Madonna's Immaculate Collection, or that you just referenced "Who's That Girl," which clearly indicates that you are A. at least familiar with and B. most likely have seen the 80's film starring Madonna (in case you are wondering - yes, I had to Google this to find this out).

3. Does someone really need to take the time to explain to you that it's not really cool/stylish to walk around town, in public, wearing a replica soccer jersey? Who did you ask to see if this was ok - your little brother, or your 7 year old nephew??

Don't worry, Magnus - I have no doubt in my mind that your beautiful "angelic" blonde has noticed you. Only problem is, if I were a betting man, I'd place a large amount of cash that it's for all the wrong reasons. Money line is set at about -700 that every time she sees you, she thinks "Who is that long-haired douchebag wearing those dumb soccer jerseys every day?" and that she's walking at a "warp speed" for reasons other than being late for work.

Part 2 - The Real "30 for 30"

After a slight delay, Part 2 of "30 Things Every Man Should have by 30" below:

16. A trusted barber or hair stylist.
Pardon my ignorance, but I didn't think men used "hair stylists." Is there something I should know? Sadly, I am still awaiting the arrival of a "trusted" barber, and this fact can be much attested by my numerous monthly military-style and/or "boys' regular-style" haircuts. I'll take any and all suggestions (under $15 - I have my limits).

17. A pair of jeans that makes his butt look good.
Couple pairs of jeans I feel comfortable in? Check. Similar to my barber comment, I'm still awaiting the arrival of some semblance of a butt, and am waiting on the price of saline injections to drop to a price point I can handle. Honestly though, do guys really think about this??

18. Jumper cables.
Please refer to number 14. Will this continue to be a problem at 31? Perhaps I need to think about this a bit more...

19. A driver’s license.
I beg to differ. Pretty sure I'd be quite content to be in a position in life where I only utilize a car service, and/or have a personal driver. I need a Turtle to my Vinny Chase. That is, unless this is a reference to some sort of criminal offense one has been involved in whereby he cannot apply for a driver's license. If that's the case, I'm in the clear.

20. Always enough toilet paper.
Hmm...let's just skip this one, and move on to the next.

21. Sheets that don’t scratch.
Could this please lay to rest the constant negativity produced by my recent purchase of "sateen" sheets? Looks like that Linens 'n Things liquidation sale really paid off in the long term!!

22. A nightstand that doesn’t say “Handle with care” on the side.
Umm...this would require the ability to actually be able to house a nightstand in your bedroom.

23. A smile he uses generously.
Although pictures most likely do not suggest this, I'll go ahead and give myself the benefit of the doubt.

24. At least one lamp that didn’t once belong in a dorm room.
First of all, this statement implies that I had a lamp in my dorm room, let alone more than one. I'll need to consult the former residents of my current apartment, however, as I've still managed to go my entire life without purchasing a lamp. Something tells me this should have been on the "20 Things to do By 20" list, and I obviously missed the cut a long time ago.

25. Enough confidence to approach someone he finds attractive.
"Approach" in what manner?? I'll say yes to this, but very hesitantly.

26. Enough sense not to use a cheesy pick-up line. (When in doubt, say “hello!”)
Another statement with implications - does this imply that said pick-up line produced a positive result? As George Constanza can attest, telling people you're an architect can only get you so far with the other gender...

27. A great razor.
This is me laughing...I'd rather have scientists invent some type of laser which completely removes hair follicles. Wait....what?!

28. The beginning of a nest egg.
Funny....and I was always under the impression that it's not proper etiquette to publicly discuss one's personal finances. All of a sudden, is this now perfectly acceptable at the age of 30?

29. A place where everyone knows his name.
Sadly, there may be one too many places where everyone knows my name. Perhaps I should actually start visiting bars with less frequency once I turn 30...

30. At least one sex move he’s received lots of positive feedback on.
Well, I guess there's no better time than 30 to try to get rid of that whole "virginity" thing...it appears as though I'm a little behind the 8-ball on that one.

To all those who made guest appearance at my "surprise" 30th birthday party this past Saturday (I guess all those years of unnecessary pranks on my friends finally caught up to me), thanks for coming to support my inevitable transition into adulthood, I hope you had fun, and I'll see you soon, albeit a tad more polished.

Dirty Thirty

A few days ago while conducting my typical daily internet searching, I came across an interesting article titled "30 Things Every Man Should Have by 30" (to answer the question on everyone's minds...no - I don't typically read "The Frisky" - apparently CNN.com must have some deal with the site to post ridiculous articles on their website at least once a week, one thing led to another, and there you go..). I thought that, in honor of my upcoming 30th birthday in less than two weeks, I could provide a little personal feedback on my progress with this bucket list of sorts....

Due to the length of the entry (and to keep you salivating), I've decided to split it into 2 separate entries. 15 today, 15 this weekend.

Without further adieu, enjoy:

1. A skin care regimen. C’mon guys, healthy complexions aren’t just for metrosexuals!
If by "regimen," they are trying to express the fact that I shower daily (usually 2x a day), you can check this off the list.

2. A tasty signature dish he can whip up for a date.
Are you kidding? Name me a woman that doesn't love al dente spaghetti with a bottle of Ragu, and I've got a bridge for sale in Brooklyn for you. I should also note that the sauce is "meat flavored" - what did you think this was, amateur hour?

3. Respect for women as equals and not just as heads attached to boobs.
Check. They have a superior insight which far surpasses any male in terms of understanding intellectual shows such as Gossip Girl, the Hills, and the City.

4. At least four good pairs of shoes: dressy, business casual, casual, exercise.
Sure - what guy doesn't have a pair of Asics or New Balance for every occasion....cocktail party? Grey 991's. Job interview? Grey 992's (newer = classier).

5. At least one friend who gives honest fashion advice.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but "honest" is not synonymous with "correct," right??

6. A tailored suit.
Assuming that the fine gentlemen who make an hourly wage at the "Men's Wearhouse" can be loosely classified as "tailors," then absolutely. I mean, it didn't take me until 30 to do this one. I'm almost insulted.

7. A toolbox that includes: a hammer, screwdriver, wrench, nails, work gloves.
Thanks, Dad - with only a year to spare! There's no stipulation that one needs to have actually used said tools in a real-life scenario, is there?

8. Enough clean underwear (no holes!) to get him through a week between laundry sessions.
It is with this statement that I realize this article must have been written by a woman. Any man knows that the entire key is to have enough underwear that you never have to do laundry in the first place. If this involves buying new underwear at the store in order to circumvent the whole "washing" experience, so be it.

9. Independence from his mama.
Considering I've been living without my "mama" for almost a decade, I'd certainly hope so. Um...that doesn't count weekends at home, does it? She makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich...

10. The ability to ask for directions.
This needs clarification - driving directions? Hell no. Directions as to why I probably shouldn't be wearing New Balance 992's with my "tailored suit" for a job interview? Feel free to engage...

11. A great road map when there’s no one to ask.
Check. I was always under the impression that having the biggest, most detailed map was a true sign of the alpha male. If you don't have one of those encyclopedia-sized Rand McNally road maps, then you may as well not even show your face around New England.

12. A favorite cookbook.
"The Joy of Cooking." Thanks Sister! Admittedly, I find it works better as an oversized paperweight for the time being. If you don't know how to make spaghetti with sauce out of a jar, I fear there are larger, more important problems you need to start thinking about at the age of 30.

13. A decent set of pots and pans.
Almost there...though I'm pretty sure the word "decent" is quite relative. Honestly, I just couldn't come up with anything funny for this one.

14. An emergency kit in the trunk of his car.
I get the feeling that it's 10x worse to answer that I have the emergency kit, though I don't have a car to put it in....so I won't answer in that manner. When are people going to figure out that the whole car ownership thing is just a fad??

15. A hobby that does not include a television set or a 6-pack of beer.
Sure, I have many hobbies. Antiquing, building model ships, making picture frames out of seashells, playing with Legos, meteorology - the list goes on. Oh, and for all the ladies reading this - did I mention I'm single?? Wink wink...

Stay tuned for part 2......

Curling Anyone??

If you’re a fellow Olympics watcher such as me, there is no doubt in my mind that you have seen a fair show of Curling events in Vancouver. Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I have an extreme dislike of curling; I actually enjoy watching it in small portions – I think we’ve all enjoyed the absolute collapse of John Schuster (by the way, was he really born in 1982, or do we have one of those Dominican-style birth certificate issues going on??), and Nicole Joraanstad is quite easy on the eyes as well (I particularly enjoyed the "favorite workout moves" section). To be honest, I would absolutely not be opposed to participating in a curling game in the greater Boston area…provided that enough beer was involved (doesn’t it just look like the perfect casual drinking sport?). But I’d go on record to say that about 65% of Olympic events I’ve actually gotten to see have been….drum roll please – CURLING. Is this the longest Olympic event ever? Does it last the entire 2 weeks? I get out of the shower in the AM and turn on the tv – curling. I get to the gym and glance up at someone’s tv on their treadmill – curling. I take a break from creating my sculpture and turn on the tube for a minute to gather my thoughts – curling. Well, the sculpture part was a lie, but you understand.

Notwithstanding my pointless ramblings above, I bring you to the point of this whole thing: curling must be unequivocally the most unathletic sport not only in the Winter Olympics, but in the Summer Olympics as well, no? I mean, even ping pong takes reaction time and some level of athleticism, doesn't it? If curling is a Winter Olympic sport, I really dont see why horseshoes should not be a Summer Olympic sport. And what about bocce? I mean, isn’t curling just bocce on ice, without short, greasy hairy Italian men tossing a pelota (being Italian, I’m allowed to say this)? Better yet? Shuffleboard. That way, you could have 82 year old athletes potentially making their Olympic DEBUTS. Who wouldn't want to watch that?? The unintentional comedic value of a shuffleboard "injury" where Edith Harland's dentures fall out amidst a post-game celebration could be off the charts. Could someone please formulate a legitimate argument as to why, aside from historical precedence, curling is an Olympic sport?? If so, I"ll back off my shuffleboard argument. If not, you'll be hearing from me soon enough, Jacques Rogge....

Musings From Another Valentine's Day

In honor of Valentine's Day, as a single man living in Boston, yesterday provided me with the opportunity to conduct some empirical research on the reactions of single women in the greater Boston area towards a potential misfiring of Cupid's arrow (relax...it's the best euphemism about being single I could find without thinking too hard). After waiting a day to let it all marinate, as they say, and without much further adieu, I have the following observations:

All single women in Boston can be broken down into 2 different stereotypes, both of which differ greatly:

A. Those that take the "I don't give a shit about Valentine's Day....today is a celebration of ME!" approach and;

B. Those that become manically depressed for the day, locking themselves in their apartments and performing sadistic rituals such as watching "Love Actually" three or more times in one day, eating portions of junk food typically reserved for an entire 3rd grade class V-Day party, and forcing themselves to fall asleep while listening to "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M. on repeat.*

When discussing the latter subgroup, there isn't really much else to say. These are the cliche depressed women and, due to their status of being too depressed about their own lives to venture from their couch/loveseat/beanbag chair (if you are still in possession of this, I fear there may be something else wrong with you besides only being single), I did not have any direct contact with this species of woman yesterday.

When discussing the former, however, this type of woman was out in droves yesterday. Much like a pack of wild dogs, or a herd of buffalo, or pretty much any species that moves in groups, the "I don't need a man!" species of woman prefers to move in this manner as well. More often than not they move in tandem, though I did see a small percentage of groups of 3 or more single women. Clearly, there is strength in numbers amongst this breed.

In my attempts to find the natural habitat of these women, my observations always seemed to lead to the following locations:

- Shopping centers (the sidewalks of Newbury St. being an absolute hotspot). I imagine this is due to a thought process somewhat along the lines of "just because we're single doesn't mean we can't treat ourselves to something nice." Sort of like a self-treatment via shopping. In my experience, women tend to use shopping as an outlet for numerous stressful situations; add this to the list.

-Bars - the "let's go out and get drunk in honor of having no attachments" methodology, which in reality means "let's go out and get drunk to drown our sorrows together in our own singledom." In full disclosure, most guys use this approach, though the basis of such approach is more clouded from a gentleman's perspective. Sometimes we just like going to bars and drinking beers...

-Cinemas - only the strongest groups of single women will venture to the movie theatre, as generally they don't like being in the same enclosed space with couples. The cinema being an absolute mecca of Valentine's Day dates, and dates in general, most women that actually want to see a film will do so from the comfort of their own bean bag chair (see above).

-The gym, and/or running along the streets of Boston. The "let's go exercise to blow off some steam" approach.

What did I learn in my studies, you may ask? In general, one should not attempt to approach these groups of single women on Valentine's Day, as you will most likely be rebuffed in your efforts. Women on this day anticipate that they will be taken advantage of on this day of sorrow in their lives, and are generally negative towards their opinion of the male race for this period of 24 hours (sometimes extended). My advice is to keep a short distance from these women and wait until a less significant (read: depressing) time in their lives to begin a conversation.


*This song was used because it was Brenda Walsh's breakup song from an early 90's episode of Beverly Hills 90210 (go ahead; judge me...I had an older sister who had authority over the remote control). I'm quite sure there is a more current breakup go-to song, so if anyone has a recommendation, please feel free to comment. I was thinking about using "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga, but sadly, I just didn't feel it was the right fit.