Car Trouble

I'm not one to get attached to inanimate objects. My shoes are simply shoes; my keys mean nothing more to me than my chair (actually I love my chair-but still, it's just a chair). This is all a convoluted way of saying that I can't stand when people name their cars. Or refer to it in the masculine or feminine form. "She's been making that noise all week." Can your car reproduce little hatchbacks that grow up in to 8-passenger SUVs? No? Then your car is an it. Because females have the ability to produce offspring. This of course excludes the male seahorse, which, as everyone is aware, makes the babies. I know, I didn't even have to mention such a well known fact.
So when my windshield wipers started wiping even when they were in the "off" position, I didn't get upset or complain about my poor baby. I simply stated, "huh..." Not a question; a statement. While I don't think it's anything to worry about (it's not making my car any less safe), it is, as a co-worker stated, embarrassing. Having to drive the entire way to work with your wipers on (when not needed) makes you look like the type of person who shouldn't be operating moving machinery. It's not so bad on the highway, when everyone's traveling at high speeds and no one has the time to pay attention to you, but when you're stopped at a light and the person in front of you begins realizing that man, are you going through a lot of wiper fluid. Oh, which is another thing. Every so often, so that that annoying rubber on dry glass noise doesn't drive me insane, I have spray some wiper fluid, just to keep those wiper blades lubricated.
Here's a fun tip! If you can adjust it just so between your wiper settings on your steering column, you can stop your wiper blades. Which, while somewhat tedious (but gets easier with practice), is a better option than ripping out the wiring. Of course, since it's in between positions, it doesn't always stay in place, which I found out on the highway the other day. So now I'm driving 65 mph in the middle lane and trying to stop my wipers in the right spot. Because it's not enough just to stop them, they need to be stopped in the down position, so they don't obstruct the view of the road. And more importantly, so that you don't look like a fool. I should just get them fixed, but since they've been off, I tend to forget about it.
There's really only one positive in all this: it rained the other day, and I didn't even have to turn my wiper blades on.

An apology for my absence

It's true, I haven't written in a long time. And rather than making excuses, I'll simply say I'm sorry. I still like writing, but got a video camera a few months back and have started to make stupid web videos. It's been what I've been doing for the last 4 months.
Just today I made a short film and wanted to share it with everyone.
I hope you enjoy

And if that link doesn't work, please do a google search for My Film VS Topher Grace. You should be able to find it that way.

Be Prepared

Too often I’m caught off guard in conversation; not anticipating what the other person will say. I fumble and stumble through my side of the dialogue, and instead of coming across articulate and witty (my hope), I come across bland and possibly sounding like a seven-year-old (I like popsicles!). To alleviate this problem, I like to rehearse potential friendly banter that might actually occur in my life. Today, I had an imaginary conversation with Dule Hill. It went like this:
Me: Whoa! You’re Dule Hill
Dule Hill: Um, yes. (Looking for the exit)
Me: Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a whole “celebrity stalker” vibe there. Just surprised to see you. I’m Zach.
Dule: (Shaking hands) Nice to meet you.
Me: I really like your work. Especially the dynamic between you and James Roday.
Dule: It’s pronounced Roday. And thanks.
Me: So what are you doing in the area?
Dule: I’m working on a period piece about the early years of the steel boom. We’re filming close to here.
Me: That sounds cool. How long are you shooting for?
Dule: The next month or so. Hey is there anything to do around here?
Me: Well…uh…Do you have kids with you?
Dule: No. Why?
Me: I was going to suggest you could go to the Crayola factory in Easton. Actually, it still might be cool to go by your…probably not though. You know what? You’re like an hour from Philly, you should just go down there.
Dule: How close is New York?
Me: New York? That place sucks. Don’t go there.
At which point Dule excuses himself to take a phone call and I have to use the bathroom. When I come back, he’s gone.
Now as long as neither of us veer off-script I’ll be fine. Otherwise I might end up telling him how much I like popsicles.

Home Bound #2: Relationship Deal Breakers

I have a number of things that, yeah, there’s just no way I’m going to date you. They include (but aren’t limited to):
1. I won’t date a woman who drives a Pontiac Grand Prix or Grand Am. This has since expanded to the entire line of Pontiac cars. On the plus side, with the announcement a few months back that Pontiac would be shutting down, in the near future I might be able to cross this off the list.
2. Studded belts. And on a related note, I own a t-shirt that states, “I see a white belt and I want to paint it black”.
3. Ugg boots. Really, I don’t like them at all, but have considered revising my stance on this. Can’t fight for everything, right?
4. Women who wear pajama bottoms outside the house. This is as bad as men wearing sweatshirts and mesh shorts. It’s two in the afternoon, why are you just getting out of bed?
5. Women who run funny. I had forgotten this was on my list, and found it while reading some of my older writings. Which means, yes, I’ve talked about this list before. Many times.
My friends might point out that as long as most of them have known me, I’ve never had a girlfriend, and perhaps it has something to do with this list. The truth is, I don’t actually believe in the list.
It was like my party trick: “Zach, tell everyone again about the things you’re not looking for in a relationship.” The list is just a stupid thing I did with too much time and not enough dates. And while a person who stands on principle is admirable, sometimes he also has to know when to fall on his own flawed sword. It’s impossible to predict what you'll like in another person. I told a girlfriend over and over how much I hated horses, and then the next girl I dated owned a horse. What does that say about me? It says that somehow I found one of the few girls in the area who had a horse.
It’s time to retire the list. I’ll keep in my back pocket; maybe recite it at a party once a year, but desperates can’t be choosy, right? Except for the pajamas thing. Honestly, go get dressed.

Home Bound #1: I Got Dressed All by Myself

I need to learn to shut up. It’s not because I’m a liar. I’m not good at lying, so I rarely do it. No, it’s that I don’t know when to stop talking.
When I first started my job a co-worker complimented me on my shirt and tie. And I responded, “Thanks…” and then caught myself because the next words that were coming out of my mouth were, “My mom bought it for me.” Now it’s not that my mom buys all my clothes. She doesn’t. It’s just that every year for Christmas I get at least one shirt/tie combo. And over the years my mom’s gotten better at picking them out. So instead of finishing my thought I again said, “…Yeah, thanks.” But it was one of those awkward pauses where she could tell I had meant to say something and didn’t.
In high school I would tell people that my mom bought all my clothes. It was funny to me, because at 15 whose mom isn’t buying their clothes for them. Sure, the kid might be picking out what he wants to wear, but he’s not paying for them. It’s not so funny in my late 20s.
Usually, I’m not fortunate enough to stop myself. I once told a woman that my mom buys all my underwear. This was our third date, and after that night, I never heard from her again. Wonder why? It’s just that every Christmas (it’s always Christmas) I wouldn’t ask for much and I would get underwear. Which is what I explained to her. Except instead of offering an explanation I should have just nodded in agreement when she said that women buy cute underwear because it’s cute and guys don’t really do that, do they?
So that I’m not put in that position again, I started buying my own underwear. Problem solved.
My mom has tried to say it’s ok if she buys some of my clothes; after all, she picks out all of my dad’s dress shirts and ties. Yeah, but that’s different. I think that most wives buy clothes for their husbands, figuring there’s no way he could dress himself. Sorry, Dad. I don’t think I should be embarrassed that I get clothes as presents. Heck, I bet that’s what most people get. Maybe I just need to think of better phrasing: “Well thank you. I got this sweater for my birthday. I’m capable of buying my own clothes if that’s what you were thinking.” It needs work, but it sounds better than what I was planning to say.