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My roommate hooked me up with a free pass to Comic Con on Wednesday. I was shocked at how well the crowd fit the stereotypes. There were skinny, sickly looking nerds, and overweight nerds. There was no shortage of pony tails and bad facial hair. 1/3 of the crowd seemed to now how to behave at a large crowded event, another third would just stop walking in the middle of the convention floor to look around in amazement, another third would awkwardly try and shove by to get to whatever it is they are trying to get to.

And I’m not sure what they’d be so desperate to see. There were a few corporate booths previewing movies and video games that I could see the nerds of the world being excited about, but it was mostly dudes selling ‘clever’ t-shirts, comic books, or original art, usually of scantily clad comic book chics or sci-fi heroinnes.

I will give the nerds some credit for embracing what they love despite the scorn it brings from larger society. At what point I was drawn into an argument over who would win a light saber duel between Superman and a jedi (motivated by a drawing of Batman and Darth Vader locked in combat, which I could not find on Google Images). I had to end that quickly before my pony tail started growing out.

It made parking for work a pain in the ass (I walked ten blocks to the office yesterday, and yes, I should have taken public transit). One co-worker, having paid $17.50 to park told me he wouldn’t be upset if the Convention Center exploded. He told me of his attempt to pass a costumed, overweight convention goer who was walking erratically on the side walk. As he passed he said “Out of my way Frodo” and got a reply of “Actually, I’m Samwise.”

Perfect.

You look so sad, cheer up buttercup!

I was contemplating returning to full time employment. The commentor was in a car stopped at a light. I don’t feel better about going back to work, but I am smiling now. I’m going to do my best to throw a nicety at a stranger in return.

Having returned to academia, I spend a lot of time with early and mid-twentysomethings. I do my best to pass on as much of the wisdom I’ve acquired over my many years on the planet. The other day I found myself in a discussion about people trying to coninue to live a college student like lifestyle after graduation. I commented that most people I know live that way until they either buy a house, get married or have a child.

After having said this I decided it would become something of a litmus test for maturity. I’m not trying to say maturity (or my measures) are good or bad. A while ago a 22 year old told me she thought I was a little immature for my age, I pointed out she didn’t know anyone else my age. From what I’ve seen I’m pretty standard (of course everyone assumes they fit the norm) for someone who hasn’t checked off an  item on the above list. After your mid twenties maturity seems to be based more on what you do than how long you live.  Job responsibilities can have a similar effect, but harder to test because it’s more of a sliding scale. There are, of course, exceptions as well.

I’d also note that I write this on a trip to attend a friends wedding who bought a house last summer. Is there anything else that could go on the list?

Uncomfortable silence.

Me: Nothing kills a party like talking about statistics.

This post at the Wages of Wins brought back some fond memories of a debate between my good friends Dave and Lindsey. I haven’t actually read the post yet, just the title. Dave took the stance that Lindsey was overrated, which Lindsey took offense to for some reason. Dave tried to explain that being overrated wasn’t inherently bad, but eventually he conceded that Linsey was rated.

Looking back, I can see why she didn’t like it. I personally never felt that Lindsey was overrated. The Wages of Wins is about basketball, and as far as I know she is not good at that, but she has many other admirable qualities, like a great sense of humor, a good head on her shoulders, and a lovely song she wrote about how great cheese is.

Perhaps a rating system of friends would be a good way to solve arguments like this in the future, or a Facebook friend prediction market. For the record, that is now a WFS idea, I don’t want to see any of you bums stealing it.

As for the Wages of Wins, I have skimmed the article since writing that I hadn’t read it, and apparently Kevin Durant was the second most overrated player in the league last year. Screw you, Oklahoma City.

Tutoring the youth of San Diego today, I blew a great opportunity to use one of my favorite Chef quotes, one of the kids tried to get another one to give him a ride to PB to buy a bong. These are high schoolers, so maybe I should have been concerned, but I wasn’t. What I definitely should have done was told them “Children, there’s a time and place for everything, and it’s called college.”

The older kid didn’t know what a bong was, and claimed he had recently learned what blow job meant. Dude is a senior in high school. He also admitted to skipping class to go study for other classes. I’m concerned for the youth of America.

So I’m watching ‘Change Your Brain, Change Your Life’ on PBS Sunday, some guy who’s got a lot of pictures of brains is telling me how I can keep from getting stupid in my old age. The pictures looked like they took a lot of work to get, so I think he knew what he was talking about.

Things that are good for your brain include

  • Exercise
  • Blueberrys
  • Gettin’ busy
  • Interacting with people

Things that aren’t good for your brain:

  • Hitting things with your head
  • caffeine
  • Heroine
  • Alcohol

As I watched and thought about some simple ways I could make my brain into a super-villain monster brain, my former roommate Steve called me up. “Ernie is down at South Beach, you want to go have a few beers?” So off I went.

Fast forward four hours, and more than a few beers. Steve, Ernie, my roommate Chris and myself are at a kareoke bar scouting lead singers for the band Ernie and I are apparently starting. Possibly due to a mediocre ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’ Steves eyes droop and his head hits the table. When the bouncer tells him he has to keep his head up if he wants to stay, he replies “Don’t touch me.” The bouncer tries to explain that he can’t let Steve pass out in the bar, but after a brief conversation it’s clear he only has one option: Bear hug Steve off the ground and remove him from the premisis.

As the rest of us take a last drink, Steve is charging back in waving his finger, and is quickly removed again. We catch up at the front door and put ourselves between the bouncer and Steve. I tell him “This place is dead anyway” in an attempt to get him to stop trying to get back in. He eventually concedes and we start making our way back home.

Ernie stops in to grab a pack of smokes, I follow him in to tell him to hurry up cause Steve really wants to drive home. Ernie doesn’t care. Chris is trying to babysit Steve, we text back and forth:

Chris: You better hurry he is going

Brett: Tell him to wait for ernie

Chris: He said fuck ernie don’t worry about it

Chris: Good thing is he doesn’t seem to remember what direction his car is

Just before that last one I told Ernie we should go so Steve wouldn’t kill himself trying to drive to Tijauna, to which Ernie replied “He doesn’t know where his car is.” Chris joined us for a beer after Steve took off to parts unknown.

We get back to the apartment to find the window open from Steve’s cat-burglar like entrance and our hero is passed out on the floor with his head on the couch. When I woke up in the morning Ernie was gone but had decorated Steve with some recycling.

Looking back, I can check off learning for Sunday (all about the brain), had some good social interaction, but I did drink some alcohol, so I’ll call it a wash for brain health. I don’t think I can say the same for Steve.

And if you’re wondering, Ernie and I did not find our Axl, but as soon as I learn to play a bass the band will start rocking. Suggestions for a band name would be appreciated.

A conversation I had in a bar Saturday night, as I recollect:

Girl: Are you from San Diego.

Me: Moved here about six months ago

Sidenote- I’ve been saying I moved here six months ago for about four months.

Girl: Me too, were are you from?

Me: Washington state. What about you.

Girl: Hawaii.

Me: Very nice, what island?

Girl: East shore of Oahu.

Me: I was on the North Shore in November.

Girl: Why?

Me: Uh…it’s Hawaii

Conversation was sidetrack by a gentleman pulling Mickey’s grenades out of his pocket and telling us girls didn’t like him. I recommended he wrap his sweatshirt around his neck and not his waist. I hope it worked out for him.

 

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