See You in the Real World

New Blog Location: alexpomer.com

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 02:25:00 +0000

Hello readers,

In a(n almost definitely futile) attempt to look more legit, this blog has been officially moved to...

alexpomer.com

There's a brand new look, a brand new post, and the same writing that you've been forced to read for the last 6 months.

If you haven't hated reading that much, please subscribe through email or by RSS on the new site.

Since the site is new and I had to manually move over a bunch of the content. Feel free to let me know (either through email or publicly in the comments) that I'm an idiot and misspelled something or linked to an incorrect site.

Thanks for reading and I hope to see you on the new site!

Bookstore Date

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 23:07:00 +0000

Tonight I have date #2 with Valentine's Girl.

I should start by saying that, as you may have guessed, I'm not very practiced at 2nd dates...

...especially ones where I promised the girl to do something that's not your standard date.

Naturally, two nights I started freaking out when I realized that I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with this girl. I asked some friends of mine who were sitting in the room if they had any ideas.

My friend Eugene mentioned, "You should walk around a bookstore with her."

I immediately told him that was a horrible idea.

10 minutes later, I realized that he may be onto something and decided to try it...

...with a little twist of course.

So tonight, I'll be picking up Valentine's Girl for what she thinks is a coffee date at Barnes and Nobles. When we sit down at a table, I'll hand her an envelope with the following letter in it:

Page 1:

Dearest Amy,

You’re probably thinking that ‘getting coffee’ isn’t much of an excursion. And you’re right. But this is more than just a coffee date as you’ll find out. In fact, it’s not even really about coffee. I like to think of it as a bookstore date.

When you read this line, look up at me as if you’re angry I tricked you into going here with me.

That’s my cue to excuse myself to go to the bathroom so you can read the rest of this and think about strategy.

Here’s what’s going on:
I’ve come up with a few ‘games’ that we’ll be playing to get to know each other better and make this a little more fun. Each game will involve finding a book (or two) in a given amount of time. We will then return to the table and compare/discuss our choices.

The details of the games are on the next page.

I hope you enjoy this half as much as I’m going to,
Alex

P.S. No, I’ve never done this before. You’re the first.

Page 2:

THE BOOKSTORE GAMES

Round 1:
Find the book that you’ve most recently read (not for school). Find the book that you’ve read the most number of times (not less than 200 pages).

Time: 5 minutes

Round 2:
Find a book that reminds you of your childhood.

Time: 4 minutes

Round 3:
Find a biography of one of your idols.

Time: 4 minutes

Round 4:
Find the book whose author would have the highest point total in Scrabble

Time: 3 minutes

Final Round:
Find the book that has the most absurd (content-wise) first page (the first page of the actual book, not the worthless publishing information, table of contents, etc.).

Time: 6 minutes

End letter.

All (both) the female readers, would you enjoy something like this or would you think it was way over the top?

'Contrary-dundancy'

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 19:25:00 +0000

In the business world, they say "time is money" so you should be as efficient as possible. When writing a paper, you're not supposed to repeat yourself.

So why should speaking be any different?

Introducing: Contrary-dundancy.

Contrary-dundancy [kahn-trayr-ee-dun-dance-ee]
noun (pl. -cies)

Inspired by French contractions and Jeopardy's Before and After category, it is a new way of speaking where one eliminates repeating the same sound twice in row when pronouncing words. It is both contrary to what is taught in school and also very efficient.

Examples:
1. The phrase "my iPod" is pronounced "myPod"

2. A UNC basketball fan who is (understandably) upset by Deon Thompson's defense might yell, "Play D, Deon!" when he should have said, "Play D-on!"

3. A female told blogger Alex Pomer that she "didn't want to go on a Valentine's Day date" with him. She should have said, "I don't want to go on a Valentine's Dayte" with you.

4. Loyal readers of Alex Pomer's blog should pronounce their names as indicated:
- Rob Broadhurst = Raw Broadhurst
- Weird Doyle = Weird Oil
- Sarah Rutledge = SaRutledge

End definition.

Whether or not you decide to embrace this amendment to appropriate speech, listen for contrary-dundancies.

You'll find that most people aren't as to-the-point as they think they are.

Valentine's Day Plans (Gender Equality Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 19:22:00 +0000

This is the Part 2 of the Gender Equality blog posts. You can view Part 1 here and Part Zero here.

Last night I met a girl. Let's call her Amy for now...

...mostly because that's her name.

Background: Pomer and Amy are discussing the cons and cons of online date sites when Pomer makes a very predictable move...

...or does he? (queue music).

Pomer: "So, do you have any Valentine's Day plans with your boyfriend?
Amy: "...I don't have a boyfriend."
Pomer: (nice) "Do you have any Valentine's Day plans at all?

(3 seconds pass as she considers the question)

Amy: "Um... I'm going to The Vagina Monologues."
Pomer: (...nice?) "Oh, so you're a feminist?"
Amy: "I guess..."
Pomer: "Great. Do you want to be my Valentine's Date?"

(5 seconds pass as she considers the question)

Amy: "Um...sure?"
Pomer: "Perfect. How about this, I'll cook a meal and you pay for it all."
Amy: "Why would I pay for it?"
Pomer: "Because you want women's equality and so do I. We're just switching roles for the night."

(Amy looks confused)

Amy: "But wouldn't it be more equal if we split it?"
Pomer: "Fine. Let's have our date, I'll see how it goes, maybe call you back, wait two hours after you text me to respond, and if we make it to a second date, I'll consider paying... but probably won't."
Amy: "That sounds horrible."
Pomer: "Doesn't it?"

(Amy is visibly frustrated)

Amy: "I see what you're doing. Fine. Here's my number. Call me tomorrow and we'll see what happens."

End dialogue.

What happens:

Dinner will be waiting for her when she gets back from The VMs tomorrow night.

I hope she likes Mexican because I used to work at Qdoba and that's the only thing I can cook.

This is going to be the best Valentine's Day ever.

Thank you equality.

We're not that different after all (Gender Equality Part 1)

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 05:38:00 +0000

I've written before and will again about being a big proponent of women's equality.

And I think part of that is realizing that men and women aren't that different after all.

A few days ago I had lunch with a girl friend (note the space... again).

She was talking about an exam she took where she thought she did really well. The conversation went something like this:

Pomer: "What did you get?"
G F: "92"
Pomer: "What was the class average?"
G F: "93"

(Thirty seconds pass as we eat.)

Pomer: "You know if it were me, I would have lied about the class average."
G F: "What do you mean?"
Pomer: "I would have said it was a 91... and not even felt bad about it."
G F: "Haha, why would I lie to you?"
Pomer: "I don't know, I guess it doesn't really matter."

(The conversation shifts to your standard what are you doing this weekend.)

G F: "Blah Blah Blog"
Pomer: "Yada Yada Yoda"

(Five minutes later)

G F: "I have a confession to make..."
Pomer: "Okay..."
G F: "I made an 88 on the test."
Pomer: (erupting in laughter) "I knew it!"

(Pomer - 1, G F - 0)

I love charity, yes I do...

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 01:55:00 +0000

...I love charity, god-I-hope-you-like-it-at-least-a-little-bit too!

That's the cheer I made up for my fundraising campaign for Dance Marathon.

What the hell is Dance Marathon?

I thought you'd never ask.

In short, Dance Marathon is a charity event for The North Carolina Children's Hospital where you have to dance (or at least stand) for 24 straight hours.

In long, it's a great opportunity to meet some new people (something I love doing). You put a bunch of people in a room where they have to stand for a whole day, there's going to be a chance to do some talking.

And if you can't tell from this blog, I also love talking.

Um... why are you telling me this?

I thought you might ask.

I need to collect at least $100 by Friday, February 20th.

Right now, I have $2. One for giving a friend a ride to the grocery store and the other for whining to a girl at the bar that not only am I never going to be able to raise enough money but my dog died today.

She felt bad and gave me a dollar.

No, my dog didn't die. (Hi Lottie)

But the whining-dog excuse is only going to work two, maybe three more times in the next week-and-a half so I need your help.

Even if it's only a dollar, take a second and give some spare change, show some passion.

I don't care if it's because you feel bad for me or want to feel good about yourself. Either way, we all win.

(You - 1, Me - 1, Children - 1)

Fine, you got me, how do I give?

Thank god you asked.

You can give by either clicking the very obvious widget to the right of my homepage, or by going to my main giving site here.

In order to figure out whether you should keep reading, please answer the following multiple choice question:

Do you owe me a dollar because I lent you one in the past?
a) Yes
b) No
c) No, but how many people could possibly owe you a dollar?

If you answered either a or c, read on. If not, see you next post.

For the c-folk out there:

I've posted before about the opportunity cost of a dollar. Well here's another example...

Last semester I realized that it was worth more than $1 to me for someone to owe me $1.

What are you talking about Alex?

I'm saying, I'd rather be able to point out to someone every time I see that person that he/she owes me a dollar than to actually have that dollar sitting idly in my wallet.

So for the past few months, every so often, I'd hand someone a dollar only to point out the next time I see that person that "you owe me dollar."

If that person tried to return the dollar to me, I would politely refuse.

If you don't believe me, try it out. I'm telling you, it's a lot of fun. Way more than a dollar's worth of fun.

For the a-folk out there:

Here is your chance to finally return that dollar you owe me. And I'm not even getting the dollar.

The children are.

So if you're reading this and you're tired of hearing about that dollar you owe me, click here (yes, it's the same link as the one earlier in the post) and you never have to be tired again.

To those of you who gave, thanks.

To those of you who didn't, I hate you... But thanks for at least reading.

Competitive Juice

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 22:00:00 +0000

Note: if you about to eat a meal, I suggest you put this post on hold and read it later.

Yesterday, I ran in the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

For those of you who don't know, it's a race for charity where you run two miles, eat a dozen donuts and then run the two miles back.

It was one of the worst experiences of my life so I thought I'd give you all a play-by-play of my miserable marathon.

Let's begin at the beginning why don't we...

A few days ago, while discussing strategy for the event, a friend suggested, "You know, your stomach is biggest about five hours since your last meal."

I have no idea whether or not that's true.

But taking my friend for his word, at 3:30am the night before the race, I put on my jacket and made the trek to Time Out to eat some Mac and Cheese.

Less than four hours later, my alarm went off and I nearly started crying.

Eyes red and legs tired, I got out of bed, put on some wake-you-up music, and faced the morning ahead.

15 friends and I carpooled (in angry silence) to Raleigh, waited in a few lines, and long after we knew it, were standing with thousands of other runners ready to make ourselves sick.

The race began surprisingly well. I came out of the gates with my head held high and my feet down low.

I don't know how it happened, some call it adrenaline, others call it luck, I call it my competitive juice, but I finished the first two miles in under 15 minutes.

Breathing (painfully) heavily, I strutted over to the donut line ready to take on phase two.

I scarfed down the first cold, glazed donut, realized I was already full and almost started crying (again).

Manning up, I grabbed six donuts, smashed them together, dipped them in a cup of water and began nibbling away.

10 minutes later, after watching most of my friends finish their entire dozen and running off, I finished the smashed six.

Knowing what was ahead, I changed venues to the BP parking lot across from Krispy Kreme. I then smashed the remaining five donuts together, dipped them in water, took two bites...

...and immediately threw up.

Everywhere.

From there, I sort of fell into the rhythm of bite, bite, splap... bite, bite, splap...

I actually overheard a bystander remark to his friend, "Hey, that guy sounds like the drum line in that Queen song, We Will Rock You."

They went on for a few minutes, maybe even mentioning "the glaze on my face" and "how big a disgrace I was," but I didn't care and eventually downed the last donut-bite.

A friend of mine (Chris) just happened to finish his donuts at the same time as me and we decided to jog back together...

...nice and slowly.

We lumbered along, getting passed by children on the left and old people on the right.

Embarrassed but determined, we kept our heads down and kept moving forward, slowing down only twice to throw up in a passing bush.

Finally, we rounded the last corner and the finish line came into view.

And that's when the competitive juice kicked in again.

Leaving Chris behind, I began running faster, determined to beat a few of the runners ahead of me. But after passing four or five people, I started getting tired again and thought about slowing down...

Until I saw her.

A fourteen year-old girl who was quickly gaining ground on me from behind.

If I had to guess, I'd say her name was Kelli.

And with 50 yards to go, Kelli caught me.

Terrified, I looked at her.

And she looked at me...

...then smiled.

And that's when I decided that there was no way that this cocky, self-righteous, non-sleep-deprived, joke-of-a-runner, girl was going to beat me in this race.

So I looked back at her with a grimace and choked out, "Good try."

Then I ran.

Hard.

Harder than I should have been able to, harder than most people's body's would let them.

But hard enough to pass her.

And pass her I did. Just as the finish line approached, head down, arms behind me, using my last burst of energy, I passed her.

Once through the finish line, I headed straight to the closest trashcan and returned to the snare line of We Will Rock You.

After a few verses, I looked up and saw Kelli looking at me, confused, thinking, How could he possibly justify doing that to his body just to beat me in a meaningless race for charity?

And I thought back, You may be standing tall, breathing steadily and I may have thrown up every last bit of food and liquid in my body...

...but I didn't throw up my competitive juice.

I win.

(Alex - 1, Kelli -0)

Note: Yes, I know the aforelinked T.I. featuring Young Jeezy song is about beats and not feet(s) but it just felt so natural.

Friendship (at least for guys)

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Wed, 28 Jan 2009 20:07:00 +0000

The internet has brought about a new era of communication and action.

For those of you who don't know...

When a large group of people assemble suddenly and perform an unusual action for a brief time then quickly disperse, it's called a Flash Mob.

You can find some famous ones, here, here and here.

This afternoon, I organized my first Flash Mob...

At 2:15pm, a good friend of mine named Garrett and I were studying in our Fraternity's library (the 'Brary). He finished his work and I still had half a paper to write.

Bragging, he announced to everyone in the 'Brary that he was "going to take a nap."

Furious that I still had to write a paper and Garrett was going to sleep, I decided to organize a flash mob.

I immediately sent the following email to my Fraternity listserv (90 people):

Subject:
If you're not doing anything...

Message:
Garrett just informed me that he's going to "Take a nap."

I would like to prevent him from doing this.

If you're not doing anything between 2:28pm and 3:30pm, please call Garrett at 336-###-#### and ask him a worthless question.

Thanks,
Alex

End Message.

In the next hour, Garrett got 40 calls and 16 text messages.

Needless to say, he did not fall asleep.

Pomer - 1, Garrett - 0

Note: Thanks to those of you who participated.

Surprised?

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 22:14:00 +0000

For those of you keeping track...

My mom called me this afternoon to ask me why there was a huge bag of Snuggies on our front door.

I know, I didn't see it coming either.

But they're finally here!

Watermelon Story 2.0

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 02:37:00 +0000

Do you remember the story your parents told you about what would happen if you swallowed a watermelon seed?

For those of you who don't remember, first of all you're an idiot and secondly, a watermelon supposedly grows in your stomach.

This afternoon, an alumnus of our fraternity (John) came by to check up on the progress of the fraternity, upkeep of the building, etc.

Here's a brief snippet of the conversation:

John: "How's everything going?"
Me: "Fine."
John: "Any problems with the building itself?
Me: "Nope."
John: "Any more bug problems?"

(We had a bug infestation last year.)

Me: "Not really, I woke up this morning to a ladybug crawling out of my nose."
John: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yeah, it scared me at first but ladybugs are pretty harmless, right?"
John: "You'd better hope she didn't lay any eggs up there."
Me: "Haha yeah, wouldn't that suck..."

End snippet.

After initially laughing off the matter, I've become increasingly concerned about the actual possibility of a ladybug nest resting peacefully in my nose.

I've had visions of waking up in a week with a cold and sneezing out hundreds of ladybugs...

Thoughts of having to join the circus as The Insect Sniffler...

Dreams of fighting crime at night in a ladybug outfit (see below) with my many mini female friends by my (in)side...

Scary. I know.

Odds are nothing will happen.

But I think either way, I've just discovered the next big old wives' tale.

If you have any other possible uses for my potential future superpower, please let me know in the comments.

Cocktale

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 19:46:00 +0000

I'm not naive. I know I'm living in a fantasy world.

I live with 40 of my best friends, I have zero responsibilities before 11:00am, and any time I want to ask a girl on a date, I have the perfect excuse...

...a cocktail.

For those of you who don't know, here's a quick definition of a fraternity cocktail:

Main Entry: fra·ter·ni·ty cock·tail
Function: noun
: a social event where friends, sometimes referred to as 'brothers', take dates out to a nice dinner usually followed by dancing and debauchery.

I had one such cocktail last Friday and had such a good time that my evening warranted a second date.

Unfortunately, I've been classically conditioned over the last three years and now have no idea how to ask a girl on a date unless there's a cocktail scheduled for the upcoming week.

Realizing that there's no 'cocktail excuse' in the real world, I decided it was time to get some practice...

After two hours of deliberation, a half-hour of Facebook, and 15 minutes of crying, I panicked and sent the following text message to my potential date:

"I had a really good time at the cocktail and I want to ask you to come to another cocktail this Friday. Unfortunately we don't have a cocktail on Friday. What do I do?"

At the time of publication, she has yet to respond.

And if you remember correctly, this scenario isn't exactly my cup of tea.

Who doesn't like a good adventure?

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 00:06:00 +0000

I got a lot of positive feedback from my last post.

Apparently you all like reading about the (sometimes non-conventional) ways with which I try to use Facebook to initiate conversations, especially when the initiation is so outlandish that there is almost zero chance of actually having a reasonable conversation.

Today, I sent a Facebook message that I immediately regretted. Naturally, I thought I share it with you...

But first, a little background:

- Last night, I met a girl (Katie) for the less-than-10th time.
- She's friends with one of my close childhood friends (Lacie).
- Katie and I talked for 30-ish minutes.

I tried to look her up on Facebook today by going through all of Lacie's friends named Katie but there were five Katies with very small, hard to see pictures so I couldn't be sure which one she was.

So today, I sent the following Facebook message to five girls named Katie.

(For reading purposes, I suggest you play along as if it were sent to you.)

Subject:
A picture is worth a thousand words...

Message:
...most of the time.

In the case of your Facebook picture though, I'm not sure it is.

It's really small and I'm actually not even sure if you're the friend of Lacie's named Katie that I've met a couple of times including last night. If you're not, feel free to calmly dismiss this message and ignore the Facebook invitation. I won't be offended at all.

In fact, I sent this same exact message to five other of Lacie's friends who are also named Katie.

So if you're not the one, please stop reading now.

...........................

Hey Katie!

Looks like you're the one. That's great news. I'm glad I found you.

I feel like I went through a lot (arguably too much) trouble to find you. But I'll let you determine that...

...via a little game.

1. Do you think that I went to too much trouble to find you?
a) Yes (go to #2)
b) No (go to #3)

2. Do you regret reading a Facebook message that's this long?
a) Yes (go to #4)
b) No (go to #5)

3. Have you ever gone through this much trouble to find someone on Facebook before?
a) Yes (go to #6)
b) No (go to #7)

4. That's completely reasonable. I wouldn't even consider reading this much if I were you. Thanks for playing along, you really shouldn't have. I'll see you around.

5. Wow, that's impressive. What were you doing that was so miserable that you'd waste your time reading something like this?
a) I was in class (go to #8)
b) I was doing homework and needed a break (go to #9)
c) I love Facebook and wouldn't dream of not reading every word of a message (go to #10)

6. You must have really needed to find that person. Why did you need to find him/her?
a) I needed help with a homework assignment (go to #11)
b) I fell in love at first sight and had to find the guy (go to #12)

7. Thank god, it's a complete waste of time. If I didn't have an hour to kill between my two classes on Wednesday, I wouldn't dream of doing something like this. Surprisingly though, it's been pretty fun. I hope you (at least marginally) enjoyed this. Have a good one.

8. Wow, class must have been incredibly boring. I hope this made it a little more entertaining. Hey, at least you didn't fall asleep. If class hasn't ended yet or you're bored later on in the semester, go to #13.

9. I promise you, you should have spent your break doing something (anything) else. If for some reason you found this in the slightest way entertaining, go to #13.

10. I too love Facebook (ex. this absurdly unnecessary message). Have you ever written anything like this before?
a) No (go to #14)
b) Yes (go to #16)

11. Well I hope you got the help you needed. I still think there was probably an easier way to get it but I admire your resolve. I hope you're not furious with me for wasting your time and maybe I'll see you around.

12. Did it work out?
a) Yes (go to #15)
b) No (go to #16)

13. I keep a blog and while it's not going to enlighten you in any way, you might find it interesting particularly since you're the main topic in a recent post. Feel free to check it out. (alexpomer.blogspot.com)

14. That's incredible news. No one in his/her right mind would ever write something like this. It's good to hear that you're a reasonable person. Hopefully, I'll see you soon.

15. That's amazing. I'm so happy for you and wish you the best of luck. See you around.

16. Will you marry me?
a) No (go to #17)
b) Yes (go to #18)

17. Good choice. I wouldn't marry me either. Maybe I'll see you around.

18. To confirm, please reply to this message with the subject line, "I do".

Let me know where you ended,
Alex

P.S. No, I wasn't lying in the first paragraph. Your picture was only worth 687 words.

End message.

You're probably thinking, Why?

Well I'll tell you Why...

(Go to #7)

If at first you don't succeed...

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 01:32:00 +0000

In my experience, then you probably weren't meant to.

A few days ago, I created Facebook event entitled I know this sucks but I lost my phone and I need people's numbers.

Sounds innocent enough, right?

Wrong.

There are two factors that you are unaware of:
1. I did not lose my phone.
2. I only invited one person to the event, a girl that I will refer to as JT.

For those of you who don't know me, getting a cute girl's number is not really my cup of tea.

So I figured I'd use a little trickery and then six months later, while we were merrily strolling down the beach holding hands, I'd tell her how I got hew phone number and we'd laugh the day away...

Well guess what, figuring isn't really my cup of tea either.

Two days and thousands of Facebook-checks later, I was still number-less.

So yesterday, I got bold and decided to try try again.

I thought, maybe she just skimmed over the event invite and I need to take a more direct approach.

So I sent her a long confessing Facebook message explaining what I'd done, hoping that she would find it remotely entertaining. I also gave her some raw incentive (detailed in the snippet below) in case she was the bribe-able type.

Snippet below:
"In exchange for your phone number, I will tell you...

1) The movie that I'm most embarrassed for crying in.
2) My favorite Pokemon.
3) My PID number and permission to use it for up to $10 worth of Alpine (I have a ton of extra expense dollars).
4) Which 'NSync song I'm currently listening to.
5) One demand of your choice."

End Snippet.

You'd think that nobody could resist such a tempting proposal.

Well JT isn't a nobody, she's a somebody. And a much more elusive somebody than I initially imagined.

More than 36 hours since clicking that dark blue send button, there's still no response.

I'd tell myself she's playing hard to get but I passed out midway through hour 14 from holding my breath.

Sometimes life throws you a curveball. My advice, don't try throwing one at a girl.

"I resolve to..."

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 17:57:00 +0000

Come New Years, most of us resolve to accomplish/do/commit to something in the next year.

And in my experience, a lot of people have similar resolutions. Here's a list of the top ten most popular resolutions.

But if you know me at all, you know I'm anything but popular. So naturally, my resolutions rarely mimic that of the general public.

They also tend to be more on the difficult side.

Last year, in my never-ending quest to stay in college, my New Years resolution was to 'Get Younger'.

Whether or not I succeeded is still up to debate. Yes, I'm a year closer to graduation but I don't think anyone would argue that I have the maturity of a 12-year old. I'll leave the verdict on my success up to you...

This year, I had no idea what my resolution was going to be until two days ago when I had an eye-opening experience.

I should probably start by letting you know that I'm a jack of some trades and a master of none.

I've got a few semi-talents (keyboard shortcuts, Facebook pokes, getting in the 'friend zone') but I lack in some critical areas.

For example, I don't know anything about cars.

I mean nothing.

So when my car started going into neutral whenever I took slow turns a month ago, I figured I'd just take it in for a checkup over break and everything would be fine.

Two days ago, I took it to the mechanic. Yesterday, I got a phone call. It went a little something like this...

Mechanic: "I've got some sort-of bad news..."
Pomer: (crap) "...are you sure?"
Mechanic: "Uh, yeah I'm sure. We're going to have to rebuild your transmission."
Pomer: "Okay..."
Mechanic: "Have you been refilling your transmission fluid...?"

(10 seconds pass)

Pomer: "You mean the motor oil?"
Mechanic: "No, the transmission fluid. You didn't know there was transmission fluid?"

(Audible Laughter)

Pomer: "How much?"
Mechanic: "$1,600"
Pomer: "I definitely shouldn't have bought those Snuggies."
Mechanic: "What?"
Pomer: "Nothing, just fix it."

Click

You're probably thinking, You didn't know to change your transmission fluid? You're an idiot!

Well guess what, I can't believe that you don't know Pikachu evolves into Raichu with a Thunderstone. But you don't see me rubbing it in your face...

But that's not the point. The point is that it's a new year and we all have our shortcomings.

And you probably think that I have way shortercomings than you...

But that's exactly why I need to have lofty New Years resolutions.

This year, I resolve to become a jack of all trades and a master of two, maybe three.

And just how are you going to accomplish that, Alex?

I thought you'd never ask.

I'm never going to sleep past 9:30am.

I have a bad habit of sleeping until almost noon. But no more.

Starting tomorrow, I'm going to get up and do/learn something, anything, everyday. With an extra 2.5 hours per day, I'll be able to accomplish far more than I could this past year.

Watch (read), you'll see.

'Tis the season

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 19:14:00 +0000

Oh yes 'tis.

So I thought it would only be fitting to share a story about one of my Christmas shopping experiences.

Before I begin, let me hit you with a little background:

A friend of mine (Garrett) and I have a tradition of exchanging gifts on Christmas/Chanukah and our birthdays.

You're probably thinking, Yeah, you and every other friend in the world.

Well you're wrong.

Most of the guys you know don't give gifts to their friends on holidays. (They/We)'re too lazy.

But Garrett and I decided three or four years ago that we would exchange gifts. Sometimes, your friends know you (and what you really want) better than your family does.

And that makes for good gifts.

End background.

A few weeks ago while we were watching TV, an infomercial for Snuggies came on. Garrett idly mentioned that he wanted one of the ridiculous blanket-robes.

Being the good friend that I am, I made a mental note of Garrett's desire and chuckled at how horrible he would look wearing a robe-lanket.

A few days ago, I saw the infomercial on TV and remembered my mental note (is that redundant?).

I picked up the phone, and dialed the 1-800 number. I've never ordered something off an infomercial so I had no idea what to expect.

The Snuggie is listed on the commercial as "Buy one, get one free for $19.95."

Well guess what, it's not that simple.

I have to say, the automated operator was very polite and sounded sweet...

...but she's a sneaky b*&ch.

Let's call her Kelli.

And I should've known because I never trust girls that substitute an 'i' for a 'y' in their name. But like I said, she sounded sweet.

The first thing she did was ask how many Snuggies I wanted. So I sat there, staring at my phone thinking...

Well I want two. But the second one is supposed to be free. So do I order one Snuggie or two...?

Realizing that I may be in for more than I bargained, I cautiously pressed 'one'.

Kelli informed me that I'd ordered one Snuggie and that my second one would be included free.

Nice, I thought. (Pomer - 1, Kelli - 0).

Then, Kelli went on to offer me a bunch of "limited time special offers."

I sidestepped most of them but couldn't resist upgrading to the Deluxe Snuggie which is 50% thicker and has pockets for only $5.

What's a Snuggie without pockets? I thought.

Finally, after giving them my credit card number, name and billing address, Kelli informed me:

"Thank you your order will arrive in 2-6 weeks."

Click

No total cost. No conformation email. Nothing.

And by the way, it's not getting here by Christmas...

I thought that was a little fishy so I got online and did some research to find some other people's experiences. Here are some of my favorite quotes:

- "You call the customer service number on their site and it rings once and then they hang up on you."

- "I placed an order of two blankets... Guess what, the total is $132.55. They charged $47.70 for shipping."

- "They ask if you would like to upgrade to a more plush Snuggie (the Deluxe one). When you say yes you end up buying 2 getting 2 free."

I quickly realized that something was not right. In fact, it might even be wrong.

I did some mental calculations (on my calculator) and figured out that I'd actually ordered:

- 1 Basic Snuggie: $27.90 ($19.95 + $7.95 S/H)
- 1 'Free' Basic Snuggie: $7.95 S/H
- 1 Deluxe Snuggie: $32.90 ($19.95 + $5.00 pockets + $7.95 S/H)
- 1 'Free' Deluxe Snuggie: $12.95 ($5.00 pockets + $7.95 S/H)

For those of you keeping track, I think that brings the score to something like...

Pomer - 1, Kelli - 81.70

Gulp

I'll be giving Garrett his gift as planned and I decided to keep the second deluxe one...

But I don't really have the kind of money to spend $80 on a blanket with sleeves so if any of you do and are interested in the pocket-less variety, let me know.

It would make a great Valentine's or Easter gift. I'm not sure exactly when it's going to arrive but I'll be sure to let you all know when it does.

I think there's a lesson in here somewhere and since it's Christmas, I'll try to break it down...

Anne Frank once said, "No one has ever become poor by giving."

She was wrong.

UPDATE: A friend, Eric, just sent me this relevant article by Time on Snuggies.

Define: 'Waste'

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 17:57:00 +0000

For college kids, Christmas/Chanukah/Winter break is a time for relaxation.

Sure, you may work a couple hours a week at your old job for some present-buying cash flow but there are no papers, no projects, and no exams.

And if you're anything like me, CCW break is a period where you have a lot of free time but feel like you deserve to not spend it doing something you have to.

Break is you time.

Do something you want to do. Read a book that has nothing to do with anything.

Did you never get around to the last Harry Potter book? Is there a new Star Wars book out? Is Gossip Girls your guilty pleasure?

Read it. Who cares?

You know I don't.

Besides, I've read every HP book thrice, I know more Star Wars history then American history, and I knocked out all the Gossip Girls novels (yes, "novels") three summers ago.

So instead of reading, last Saturday, four friends and I decided over dinner to devote our time to something arguably more worthless...

Starting a new weekly TV drama.

After much deliberation, we narrowed the field down to Lost and Heroes.

The voting was fierce:

We debated the pros and cons of each show, my friend Chris attempted a filibuster by eating only one fry every 5 minutes, and I had to give up shotgun in his car for a month to get him to reconsider.

When we finally voted, Heroes won and Lost well... you get the idea.

(Heroes - 3, Lost - 2)

So after dinner, we all went to Blockbuster and picked up the first season and Saturday at 11pm, we began the first episode.

Note:
I have a very addictive personality. I don't believe in doing something half-way. I don't even believe in doing something the whole way.

If you start something, you should do it to the extreme.

And at 6:30pm last night, three of us finished the first season.

I did some calculations and figured out that during those 43 hours, I'd spent...

22 hours watching Heroes, 14 hours sleeping, and 7 hours doing everything else.

I broke it down further below:

I told that story to a few people last night and each said, "Wow, what a waste."

So I began to question my decision:
- Did I really need to watch a show until 7am two nights in a row? - No.

- Did I enjoy every second of the show? - No, I was horribly scared most of the time.

- Does my back hurt from sitting down for so many straight hours? - Yes.

- Do I see scenes from the TV show every time that I close my eyes? - Yes.

- Do I need to shower? - God Yes.

- What does waste really mean? - To consume or spend without adequate return.

- Oh, well did I get a decent story out of it? - Umm sure, why not.

Well then it's not a waste.

A waste would be doing something that I wouldn't remember a month from now or that I could easily do again in a year or two.

Now that I think about it, I can't imagine anything more worthwhile...

...except maybe this.

Getting Something Out of Nothing

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 04:39:00 +0000

A friend of mine wrote a blog post today about the frustrations of haircuts and it got me thinking (about haircuts).

After 2-3 hours of thought, I realized that while haircuts can be frustrating, they can also provide an opportunity for a little fun.

I know, I know. What do you know about haircuts? You don’t have any hair.

Well guess what… It wasn’t always that way. I used to have hair and I’m trying desperately to grow it back. So stop hating.

Besides, I have plenty of friends who’ve gotten haircuts before.

And in my experience, girls and guys have very different views of/responses to haircuts.

Lets start with responses why don't we...

What?

You want views first? Really? Are you sure?

I’m telling you, responses would make a better intro…

Fine. If you insist...

Views of a haircut:
When a girl gets a haircut, it’s not just a haircut. It’s an event. It’s an experience.

She plans it months (maybe even years) in advance and when the day arrives, she wakes up early, gets dressed up and puts on makeup.

She even does her hair.

Which makes no sense.

I asked a friend of mine last week why she was fixing up her hair to go to the barbershop (or is it salon?).

She began explaining something about how “it’s like cleaning your house for the cleaning lady but with hair.”

I don’t get that either so I just nodded slowly and let it slide.

For guys, a haircut is a haircut.

Here's how it goes:

One day, a guy looks himself in the mirror and says, “Man, I need a haircut.”

Then, he walks over to the closest barber, sits down and gets his hair cut.

End of story.

You ready for responses now? You ready?

Good.

Responses to a haircut:
A girl never gets a good haircut. The hairdresser/stylist/designer always cuts it too short.

Does this sound familiar?

“I told her to take off two inches! Two! And she went on a cutting frenzy! I didn’t even have a choice. She just put the scissors to my hair and then chopped it all off!”

I thought it might.

When she gets back though, everyone who sees her had better recognize that she got a haircut the right way or they’re in trouble.

Allow me to illustrate three settings where I did NOT recognize a girl’s haircut the right way:

Setting 1:
Girl friend 1 (note the space) got two inches of her hair trimmed off but I didn’t realize because her hair was 14 inches long before and a two-inch difference wasn’t enough to recognize.

I spent the next two hours trying to figure out why she was treating me like I killed her cat.

Finally, when she went to the bathroom, her friend asked me,

"Why haven't you said anything about her haircut...?"

And it all made sense.

I mumbled something about how “I thought she looked especially good today but couldn’t figure out what it was” and though I don’t think she believed me, at least I had some kind of excuse.

Setting 2:
I immediately realized that G F 2 had gotten a haircut because, as she would later complain, the hairdresser cut off way too much.

I was so caught off guard by her hair’s lack of length that I panicked and asked, “Did you get your haircut?” She bitterly responded, “Does it look like I got my haircut?”

We then sat in silence while I tried to think of an excuse to leave.

After five minutes, I blurted out something about needing to change my tire and ran out the door crying.

Setting 3:

Me: “Did you get your haircut today?”
G F 3: “No”
Me: “Oh”

End Settings.

Guys don’t ever get good haircuts either. But they also don’t get bad ones.

That’s because for guys, a haircut is just not that big of a deal.

And as a result, most guys don’t care if someone does or doesn’t notice a recent haircut.

But that’s most guys.

I care a lot.

In fact, my goal when I get a haircut is for nobody to know that I got a haircut.

Let me rewind real quick:

Until this year, in college I’ve been buzzing my head. It’s cheaper, easier and makes it harder for people to tell that I have a rapidly receding hairline.

This year however, I decided it was time to grow my hair out again and as a result, I’ve had to go back to the barbershop.

Play.

When I go to the barber, I intentionally do NOT tell anyone.

In fact, I usually make it a point to tell a bunch of people that I’m doing something other than getting a haircut.

Why? You ask...

Because I play a little game whenever I get my haircut.

It’s called, Wow, I really thought he got his hair cut. I guess I was wrong. It usually works something like this:

The Scene:

I get my haircut without telling anyone. I get almost nothing cut off, just enough to clean things up a bit. I see a friend of mine and we begin talking…

Action:

Friend: “Hey man.”
Me: “Hey.”

(Idle conversation goes on for a few minutes…)

Friend: “Did you get your hair cut?”
Me: “No… Why?”
Friend: “I don’t know, something just looks different…”
Me: “Really? Yeah, no haircut for me.”
Friend: “…are you sure?”
Me: “Uh...yeah. I think I’d know if I got my hair cut...”
Friend: “I guess so... Oh well.”

(The conversation goes on for a while. We go our separate ways. Later on, Friend runs into Another Friend.)

Friend: “Hey man.”
Another Friend: “Hey…”

(More conversation, blah blah blah…)

Friend: “Did Pomer get his haircut?”
Another Friend: “I think he went to refill the ink cartridges in his printer but I don’t know anything about a haircut.”
Friend: “Wow, I really thought he got his hair cut. I guess I was wrong.”

(Pomer – 1, Friend – 0)

The last night...

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 07:35:00 +0000

This is it. Tomorrow, I'll be done.
If I can just make it to tomorrow, everything will be okay.

Those are the thoughts that have been going through my head all day. Tomorrow is my last exam of the semester. After that, I'm home free for a month. A month with nothing to do except whatever I feel like doing.

Home-cooked meals, afternoon naps, a house that cleans itself, and a lot of golf.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, I desperately need to study.

Well guess what...

I'm not very good at studying.

I know what you're thinking, you're not very good at a lot of things.

And you're right. But I'm really not very good at studying. In fact, it's probably my best anti-skill.

I've been trying to study for the last two weeks and I'm just burnt out. Red Bull's not working anymore, words won't even think about sinking in, and all I can do to stay awake is eat.

So I've spent the last two hours sitting here munching on pretzels...

...and thinking about studying.

Not studying. Just thinking about it.

And for some reason, I don't count that as procrastination. I count it as working.

If I just sit here and consider studying for long enough, slowly, all the knowledge will enter my head and stick there long enough for me to spit it out in a couple hours.

I don't know if it's gonna work but it's better than playing Free Cell or watching YouTube clips.

At least this way, I'm always almost about to study.

Wish me luck, I'll let you how it goes...

Not all smiles...

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 18:32:00 +0000

I don't know about you but I feel like I'm always running out of toothpaste.

Not in the beginning I guess. When you buy a fresh tube of toothpaste, you get that invincible feeling. It's like a full tank of gas, an empty laundry bin, or a box of q-tips from Costco. You're on top of the world and it's never going to end.

Well it does end.

And with toothpaste, it starts ending earlier than you think.

About a week into a toothpaste tube, it has transgressed from a beautiful, flawless cylinder and begins taking that flat, deflated look.

After another week, you begin considering getting a fresh tube even though you know if you really work at it, you can make the one you have last one, maybe two more months.

So for the next two months, every morning, you wake up and in addition to preparing to face the day, you also have to do battle with your toothpaste.

The tube's last week is the worst. The battles are fierce, bordering on epic. And each day's victory is more uncertain than the one before it.

And eventually the day comes where you lose. You simply can't muscle out a single drop of mouth-cleansing glory.

For me, that day was today.

I woke up, like most mornings, dazed and inexplicably angry.

Gathering my Old Spice Body Wash, Sexed-Up Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, I headed to the shower.

When I got there, I mentally prepared for the upcoming tube duel and then after 20 seconds or so, made the first strike.

Earlier in the week, I'd begun using the slide-against-the-edge-of-the-counter method to great success so I began with that tried-and-true method.

No dice.

I stepped back, caught my breath and, vowing to get a new tube today, went to my ace in the hole.

I cracked my fingers, stretched my forearms and then pressed my thumbs against the backside of the opening, pushing with all my might.

Within 15 seconds, my thumbs began cramping. In 30 seconds, I was covered in sweat. When a minute passed, I'd almost fainted.

As the minute and-a-half mark was rapidly approaching, I gave up.

Toothpaste - 1, Pomer - 0.

Defeated, I turned to a friend of mine who was also in the bathroom and asked to borrow some of his toothpaste.

He said "Sure" and handed me this...

What the hell?

Now don't get me wrong, I'm no neat freak. Far from it.

And I'm not saying you need keep your toothpaste rolled up with a chip clip like my grandmother does...

But what the hell?

What happened?

Did my friend not ever put the top back on the toothpaste when he was done?

Did he not use a toothbrush at all and just rub the toothpaste on his teeth, directly from the tube?

I have no idea.

But I didn't ask. I had to use the toothpaste. And at that point, I just didn't want to know.

Taking a deep breath, I held my nose, squeezed out a crusty-minty blend and did the deed.

When I finished, I considered throwing up but decided not to when I realized I'd have to brush my teeth again.

All in all, it was a horrible experience and one I hope I never have to endure again. As soon as I finish this blog post, I'm going to CVS and spending at least $20 on toothpaste tubes.

And if you're in the last week of your war against toothpaste, I suggest you do the same...

Not in the Cards

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 02:31:00 +0000

My last post was about doing things you've never done before and how it may change your life for the better.

Well sometimes it doesn't.

Tonight was shaping up to be a great night. I'd already been to the driving range, gone on a run, had a great dinner (Japanese), and my friends and I had decided to rent the new Batman Movie before shifting back into exam-week gear.

Two friends and I drove to the nearest Blockbuster to pick it up only to realize after 15 minutes of searching that it doesn't come out on DVD until December 9th.

After spending 20 more minutes arguing over what to get instead (I even called a third party to offer some insight), we gave up and decided to just see what was On Demand.

Half an hour ago, my friends decided to see The Strangers, the scary movie of this past summer.

They asked if I wanted to join them and as much as I love spending time/watching movies with my friends, I was forced to decline...

...and here's why:

This summer, knowing that I'm easily scared, a girl invited me to see The Strangers in the theater. I think it was some poorly planned, twisted form of flirting.

I initially declined but when she offered to pay (making it officially a date), I obliged.

Now, I don't see scary movies. I freak out enough as it is during the darker parts of movies like Signs, The Bourne Identity, James and Giant Peach, Fantasia and Step Up 2.

So I made a conscious decision when I was 12 never to see a movie that's advertised as 'scary'.

Until The Strangers.

I didn't go into the movie blind though. No, no. I was smarter than that.

I read all the spoilers and knew all the plot turns. I knew every time something popped out or someone died. I knew it all.

I knew it so well that I went into the theater with something resembling confidence.

I even had grandiose visions of her being more frightened and surprised than me. She'd have to curl up next to me and I could be the strong, confident man to protect her from anything that might actually come out of the screen and endanger her.

Then the movie started and all my something-resembling-confidence dissolved into the opening song.

I immediately started shaking and when I tried to cover my eyes or ears (or both), the girl found it inexplicably hilarious and forced me to stop.

She kept this up until around halfway through the movie when she realized that I had begun crying...

At that point she pretty much stopped acknowledging me and just focused on the movie.

After the movie, we avoided talking about what happened at all (especially the crying) and conversation, as you might guess, was forced.

I drove her home and after I dropped her off, texted some sort of awkward apology.

Needless to say, she did not text back.

So right now, while all my friends are pretending to enjoy The Strangers, I'm here with you, my real friends.

Thank you for understanding.

UPDATE: They just started Happy Feet. I think I can handle that one. See y'all later.

"I've always wanted to do that..."

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 01:10:00 +0000

I say it all the time and rarely do I find myself actually doing it.

Skydiving. Surfing. Horse-back riding. Sex (just kidding Mom).

But maybe the thing I've most wanted to do but never done is go to the laundry mat/bar in Carrboro.

What a cool concept I thought, I hate waiting for my laundry to finish. But I love watching sports and having a drink.

At Super Suds, you can do both. (No, they did not paid me to say that.)

And every time I went to the Food Lion next to Super Suds, I'd say to the person (male) I was with, "Man, I've always wanted to do that..."

Until today...

...when I did that.

Before I launch into a long and drawn out tale though, let me give you a bit of background.

Bit of background:

I hate doing laundry (if you don't agree, please let me know and maybe we can strike a bargain). It's the same thing every time and it takes forever. You dread it all day and when you finally decide to suck it up and do the damn thing, you're best friend asks you if you want to go to see that new Bond movie.

You of course cannot and instead go back to loading everything into the washer. Then, after sitting around for 30 minutes, you go back to change everything into the dryer only to realize that you forgot to load that one dirty sock, craftily hidden beneath the dryer sheets.

Now you may be thinking, So What? It's one sock? You have plenty. Just wash it next time.

Well it's not one sock. It's bigger than one sock.

I know, you're thinking again:

It's two socks because you can't wear its matching sock, right?

Wrong. I solved that problem a long time ago. But more on that later...

The only good thing about doing laundry is finishing doing laundry.

I can't begin to describe the feeling of accomplishment I get when I gaze into a perfectly empty laundry bin...

So clean. So pure. So natural. And I don't have to do laundry again for two/two-and-a half weeks...

But that one sock. That one effing sock. It ruins everything. And the accomplishment is replaced with frustration, regret and maybe even doom, leaving nothing but a deeper dread of doing laundry the next time, and the next, and the next...

End B.O. Background. (Pun semi-intended)

So when I finally decided to do it and make the trip to Super Suds, because I can't do anything by myself, I sent an email to my Fraternity listserv begging someone to come with me.

I masked the selfish, pathetic invitation with something like, "We spend too much time having the same shallow conversations over and over again. How are we ever going to get to actually know each other if we can't talk about important issues, who we are and what we believe in? Well here's an opportunity for me and one of you to spend some quality time together. Call me if you have a couple free hours this afternoon and want to just hang out and chat..."

Luckily for me, someone fell for it, a guy named Daniel.

So I picked up Daniel, laundry in hand, and we headed to Super Suds.

When we got there, we were overwhelmed.

In the foreground were hundreds, maybe thousands of washers and dryers spinning complacently, rumbling softly, like the purr of a kitten. In the background was a full bar complete with TVs, vintage Pacman arcades and pool tables.

I quickly exchanged a $20 bill for quarters, threw my laundry into four washers and headed to the background...

There, Daniel and I caught the second half of the Duke-Michigan game, had a drink and discussed life. All three were great.

When the basketball game ended, I went to check on my laundry only to see it waiting to be switched to the dryer.

As I began scooping the first batch from the washer and loading into the dryer, I glanced over at my laundry bin and saw that (bleep)ing sock almost-hidden beneath it.

I muttered a few words that I will have to repent for next Yom Kippur and grudgingly went back to scooping and loading.

When I was done, I angrily walked back to the background and tried to explain the sock situation to Daniel.

He didn't understand but offered to buy the first round of pool and I felt a little better.

After four games, I went back to the foreground to check on my laundry and again, found it dry and waiting to be folded.

And that's when it hit me.

Super Suds is the answer. When I'm at Super Suds, I don't wait on laundry. Laundry waits on me.

I was thrilled. I tried to explain my discovery to Daniel and again he didn't get it.

But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I no longer have to fear doing laundry.

I unloaded the clothes onto a table and began folding with an energy that I haven't felt since my Mom did my laundry for me.

Everything went perfectly. None of the shirts were inside out, the pants folded at the seams on the first try and the socks well, let me tell you about the socks...

When I came to college, I made what I believe is the best decision of my life. I threw away all my socks...

...and bought 50 of the same sock.

Everyone hates matching socks. It takes forever and when you finish, there's always 5-10 unmatchable socks and you wonder, Where the hell are all the other socks? Then, if you've got some spare time, you start fishing in your pants pockets hoping to find a single, matchable sock to no avail. Then you look at that one dirty sock you forgot to wash and think about how it's going to be another two weeks at best until you can wear that pair.

All in all, very stressful.

But that's you.

I never have more than one leftover sock because all my socks are the same. I know. Genius.

Anyway, once I'd folded the shirts, pants and unmentionables (do guys call/not mention them that?), Daniel walked and I trotted to the car.

We got in, realized it was near dinner time, unanimously voted to go to Wendy's and drove off into the sunset...

As my time in college is coming to an end, I think it's important to actually do the things I've always wanted to do. Who knows if you'll be able to next year and it may even change your life.

I know it did mine today...

Giving credit where credit is due...

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 19:45:00 +0000

The blog is spreading (no, I can't explain it either) and I wanted to say a quick thanks to some people who are helping out/supporting me along the way.

1. New Media Campaigns (Clay in particular):

I started working there about a month ago and (t)he(y) wrote a blog post about their newest intern (me) and mentioned this blog.

I have two brief thoughts on that (though I'll be using letters and not numbers to denote the separate thoughts because we're already number-bulleting the Thank You's):

a) While I do appreciate the kind words, Clay may have exaggerated a bit as to the entertainment value of this blog.

I believe he put it a little something like this:

"The posts promise to be the most humorous and beautiful prose that you've ever read."

I've tried to set the bar low for those of you who have been reading since the beginning so that you are merely underwhelmed.

For those of you reading with the expectations that Clay set, I think it's only fair to warn you of certainly being underwhelmed and possibly (probably) going into a long, deep depression. For that, I apologize.

b) If you read the post on NMC, you probably also noticed that the first comment (and only as of today) was from my Mom. You're probably thinking (and are correct) that I should be embarrassed about that. Somehow though, my first emotion was one of pride.

(Yes, that last bullet was a selfish attempt to get an allowance raise for next month. I'm a little low on cash right now.)

End thoughts. Back to thanks...

2. A guy named William:

I woke up this morning and (like most mornings) immediately checked Facebook.

To my surprise, I had a message in my inbox.

To my (even bigger?) surprise, it wasn't a mass message from some girl thanking everyone for joining her Facebook group about her lost phone and needing people's numbers (which happened yesterday morning).

No, the message was from William who picked up this blog from the NMC post.

To my amazement, not only was he not angry that he'd wasted his time reading even a single post, he told me that he actually experienced something resembling amusement.

So, because (as far as I know) he's the first reader who I haven't personally forced the blog onto, I wanted to say a special public thanks for taking a chance and reading/subscribing. I really do appreciate it.

3. A guy named Chase:

This one's not really a thanks. I came across a blog post by Chase. He's a friend of one of my co-workers and his post had me laughing out loud (no, not LOL... the written out kind).

If you've enjoyed any of my posts, I think you'll find his post less-than disappointing. It's about a girl identified as "League-girl" who I assume he likes/has a crush on.

Enjoy...

Technology

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 03:34:00 +0000

It's great. You can now watch TV without commercials on your computer, find the answer to any question with a few clicks of a button, or identify a song's title and artist by holding your phone to the speaker.

But sometimes, it's not so great.

Sometimes, it's miserable.

I woke up this morning ready to take on the world. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the squirrels were scrambling around desperately trying to store enough food so they don't starve this winter.

Life was good...

...and then I sent a text message...

...to a girl.

And everything went dark.

There's just something binding about a text message. When you call someone on the phone, when she doesn't answer, you can always not leave a voicemail to keep her guessing. With texting though, you might as well preface each text with, "I want to talk to you now and here's why..."

That's why it's so stressful when she doesn't reply immediately. And if you're anything like me, she rarely does.

And here's the thing, it's not like I'm in love with the girl I texted today. She changed her major to advertising, wanted to talk to me about it, I told her I'd let her know when I was free, end of story.

Yet, I still checked my phone every four minutes for the next three hours and every time I saw no missed calls and no new texts, I got that sinking feeling deep in my stomach, you know, just below the rib cage.

Each time I looked at my phone, for some reason, I thought you know what, this is it. This time she'll have responded. And each time I looked at my phone, that feeling sank just a little bit deeper.

As more and more time passed since my initial text, I began the doubting stage: Did I phrase the question wrong? Should I have called instead? Was it too long? Was it too short? Did I type "hand" instead of "game"? What was I wearing the last time she saw me? Oh no, it was the new shirt my mom got me that I promised I'd wear. I knew I shouldn't have worn that damn shirt. Why did you wear the shirt? Why?

And then just as I'd resigned myself to the fact that I simply wasn't going to be able to fall asleep tonight...

She responded.

And like an idiot, I immediately replied back...

...and it started all over.

That's how my life is everyday I send a text.

Well you know what, tomorrow I'm sticking to email. So if you're reading this and are considering texting me (unlikely), don't consider it.

Because if you do, you're gonna have that sinking feeling...

...not me.

Opportunity Cost

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 18:13:00 +0000

Elizabeth Arden once said, "Nothing that costs only a dollar is not worth having."

And I agree with her. That's why I love the dollar menu at Wendy's.

Up until about two months ago, every time I went to Wendy's though, I had the following mental debate/experience:

Alright, I obviously need fries and a drink, now the question is How many Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers (Chee's) do I want? Two or three... two or three... two or... Oh what the hell, it's only a dollar.

Then I'd sit down and start plowing away at my food, proud that I'd ordered more than any of my friends. After scarfing down the fries and Chee #1, I'd confidently stroll over to the cashier and ask for a refill of my Coke Zero (keeping it healthy).

Note: Before college, I ordered regular Coke. Those were the Diet Coke days, the ones before Coke Zero. But there's something about Coke Zero that's just barely masculine enough to justify ordering. (After doing some research, it turns out that Coke Zero is marketed to adult males by using "Calorie Free" instead of "Diet" since guys associate diet drink with girls. Coke - 1, Pomer - 0)

After getting my refill, I'd head back to the table and begin Chee #2. About half-way through, I'd realize that I'd ordered way too much food and start sweating profusely. As my bites got smaller and smaller, I'd begin glancing up to check my friends' progress on their dinner. After recognizing that each was almost finished with his food, I'd look down despairingly at my still-wrapped Chee #3 and see my meal-finishing dreams slipping through my greasy fingers.

In the next 10 minutes, I'd painstakingly finish Chee #2, unwrap Chee #3, take one barely noticeable nibble, and throw the rest down in frustration. After announcing my resignation to my friends, they'd look down at my near-full Chee, smirk, and we'd make our way to the trash can and then out the door.

But that was two months ago; I've evolved since then.

In September, I stumbled onto an amazing opportunity for almost no cost.

I went to Wendy's and while trying to determine how many dollar-menu items to get, decided against ordering three Jr. Bacon Chee's...

Instead, I ordered four.

Now I know what you're thinking: You're an idiot. You just spent 5 four-sentence-or-less paragraphs explaining how you can't handle 3 JBCs. How can you even imagine finishing four?

And you're right. But that's the point.

By ordering far more than I can possibly fathom finishing, I eliminate any false hope of success and as a result, I don't feel bad taking my food home.

In fact, I look forward to it.

Do you know how comforting is it knowing that you always have a Chee waiting for you in your refrigerator? I doubt it, but you (sh/c)ould, for just $1.

If you're sold on my suggestion, you can stop reading. But if you're the hard-to-persuade type and need some real-world examples of how valuable an extra Chee is, read on.

Real World Examples (True Stories):

1. Setting: The Undergraduate Library at 1am.

Me: "Hey man, do you happen to have any extra notecards? I need to make flashcards for my Sports Marketing exam tomorrow."
Random Male Student: (dismissively) "I've got a few, but I sort of need them."
Me: (reaching into my backpack) "I'll trade you for a Jr. Bacon Chee..."
Random Male Student: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Oh yeah."
Random Male Student: (excitedly handing over a pack of notecards) "Okay!"

Note: One pack of 3x5 notecards costs $1.19. For you non-math people, that’s 19% more than a $1 JBC.

2. Setting: My Marketing Class

Cute Girl Next To Me: (To herself) "Gosh, I'm hungry, I haven't eaten all day."
Me: "Do you want a Jr. Bacon Chee?"
Cute Girl Next To Me: "Oh no, I couldn't take that from you."
Me: "Oh no, it's fine, I always order an extra."
Cute Girl Next To Me: (confused) "Are you serious?"
Me: (confidently) "Yeah, you never know when you're gonna need one..."
Cute Girl Next To Me: (hesitantly) "Well I'm sort of on a diet..."
Me: "That's okay, you can have some of my Coke Zero; It's healthy." (wink)
Cute Girl Next To Me: "Haha, okay, thanks, that's really sweet of you."
Me: "No problem."

Note: Coke - 1, Pomer - 1.

3. Setting: A Job Interview with New Media Campaigns

One Of The Interviewers: "What do you think you can do for us... (blah, blah, blah)"
Me: "Well I think I can... (blah, blah, blog)"
Other Interviewer: (uninterested) "I'm starving, I think I'm going to grab some food."
Me: "Do you want a Jr. Bacon Chee?"
Other Interviewer: (interested) "Really?"
Me: "Yeah, I always get an extra one..."
Other Interviewer: (mouth full) "Wow, that's pretty cool..."

Note: I got the job.

End Real World Examples.

Give it a try. It's $1. I promise you, it's worth (more than) it.

Unexpected Change

noreply@blogger.com (Alex Pomer) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 22:25:00 +0000

I just bought $25 worth of pudding and apple sauce at CVS.

Shall I explain?

Just kidding, dumb question.

It all started Saturday. I woke up and felt a little under the weather. Not really unusual for me. I'm not really a morning person.

Actually I'm not a morning person at all. In fact, the second I wake up is the worst second of my day.

Everyday.

So waking up and feeling crappy isn't really out of the ordinary. I started to get suspicious however, when a shower with Sexed-Up didn't rouse me out of my funk. I started to get really suspicious when I didn't feel better after a quesadilla and some chips and guac at a restaurant/bar in Athens while watching the Georgia-Auburn game.

As the day went on, the feeling got worse. Saturday night, I definitely had a fever. Chills, sweating, light-headed, sore throat. Not good.

By Sunday, the fever had gone down and by Monday, I felt like a new man...

...except my throat was still killing me.

Every time I swallowed food, it hurt. And each swallow was worse than the one before it.

Naturally, I did nothing and figured I'd be fine when I woke up Tuesday.

Naturally, I was wrong.

Tuesday morning I woke up and had a sip of water. As the water crawled down my throat, I eeked out a painful scream (a high-pitched, girly scream, not a masculine, shot in the arm in a bar fight scream).

I choked down 3 generic brand Tylenol and decided that a nice warm cup of coffee was the antidote to my ailment.

So on the way to class, I stopped by Alpine (a bagel joint on Chapel Hill's campus) and picked up a large coffee. Unfortunately I couldn't drink any of it on the way to class because it was too hot (I'm very sensitive). When I got to my class however, I took a gulp and had to punch myself in the (you know, down there) in order to distract myself from the pain. I then vowed that I would call my step-dad/doctor as soon as class let out and figure out what the hell was going on.

After class, I recounted the above story to my step-dad and he asked a couple questions before telling me what to do. The conversation is kind of fuzzy because most of it was doctor-talk (which I don't speak/understand but he pretends I do) but a few quotes stand out in my sitting memory:

"You ate Wendy's, Arby's and Qdoba with a sore throat? What were you thinking?"

"Wait, you ate Wendy's twice?"

"You thought to drink coffee? That's like pouring battery acid on your throat."

I think two things are clear here.
1. I don't know what to do when I'm sick.
2. Regardless of whether or not I'm sick, I need so change my diet. Soon.

The conversation ended with instructions to get some Prilosec OTC (which I later found out is 'frequent heartburn' medicine) and to only eat 'soft' food.

I then convinced a friend to go with me to CVS in exchange for accompanying him to Wendy's.

We went to Wendy's first and I decided to try my luck with a large Frosty and a large Dr. Pepper ($4). I immediately regretted the purchase after my first sip of Frosty hung on my throat like a girl on whatever guy is standing next to me on any given night.

At CVS, frustrated and starving (I'd eaten a burrito and four chicken nuggets in the last 36 hours), I picked up some Prilosec OTC ($10) and $25 worth of apple sauce and pudding ($25).

A lot of people wake up each morning with a full day planned. Sometimes though, unexpected things happen and you have to change accordingly; you have to make do with what you've got.

And right now, all my friends are downstairs eating chicken and broccoli on rice with breadsticks and drinking sweet tea...

But hey, I've got tons of apple sauce to eat...

...and a melted Frosty to drink.