Monthly Archives: June 2016


Everyone has been there: you’re sitting with a group of people, and a seemingly easy task is suddenly at hand, but everyone is either too comfortable to get up and do it, or the task is undesirable and a chosen person must accomplish it.  I’m sure that you could argue for a democratic method of choosing who should perform the task, and I’m sure you could argue for a ‘survival of the fittest’ deathmatch to decide who has to do it.  But seriously, we’re talking about things like getting the remote when it’s on top of the tv, or getting out of bed to turn off the light.

I can’t put my finger on it, but at some point, long ago, some wise man or woman beyond their years concocted an answer to all of lifes little situations where someone needs to be chosen quickly.  It is simply called “not it.”  I don’t pretend to be the messiah of Not It, but I think I’m a veteran of the game.  I’ve played it many times, and in fact I believe I’m quite good.  A combination of laziness and an utter desire to avoid work at any cost has led me to pursue the finer points of Not It.

There is a problem, however.  While I’d say over 90% of the population is well aware of the rules, there are 10% of people who either don’t know them, or ignore them.  There is only one rule of Not It; after someone says “1, 2, 3,” the last person to say “not it” IS it.  That’s it.  No do-overs.  No “but I wasn’t ready.”  No “that’s not fair, I’m a girl and you want me to walk alone into the alley?”  The universal rules of Not It take precedence over all others.  Read up on it. Now that I’ve laid out the groundwork, I have to vent about a blatant violation of the rules.  Recently, there were four of us sitting watching the LA Clippers lose horribly, and the board game “Scene It” was sitting on the table.  The game involves a DVD.  Do you see where this is going?  SOMEONE had to put the DVD into the dvd player.  As we had all been sitting for a good amount of time, no one volunteered to do it.  As usual, someone yelled out “1, 2, 3 not it!” and immediately 2 more “Not It!” ‘s rang out in unicen.  The lone female in the room was the lone dissenter.  And then came the bombshell from her: “I don’t care about your stupid Not It game, I’m NOT putting the dvd in.”

Dun dun dunnnnnnnn.  (blogs need a soundtrack)How can you violate the universal rules of Not It?  How can you be IT and not fulfill a reasonable task to which you were de facto assigned to?  How can I still be writing about this?

the upstairs toilet paper

I recently used the facilities on the first level of my office.  Upstairs is the “administration” part of the staff, and downstairs is the “operations” part… you know, the people who actually get stuff done instead of just talking about it.Now I may not be the most observant fellow out there, but I can tell when my post-bathroom pain is greater than normal.  I can understand the harshness of wiping with something that is not as soft as I am used to.  My hind-quarters can tell when the abrasive feel of lower-quality bargain toilet paper has graced my nether-regions with it’s presence.  Yeah, I’m basically saying that my ass hurts when I use crappy toilet paper.

Why is it that the downstairs toilet paper isn’t as soft as the upstairs toilet paper?  Is that one place where we truly need to mark our territory as being in superior positions requiring more responsibility and accountability?  Of all the ways to keep the masses at bay… we choose to save a few pennies per roll and make them suffer when cleaning up after number two.It’s odd that I point this out at all… I’m part of the privileged elite who gets to reap the advantages of the bottom-friendly higher-quality tissue.  However, if it were up to me, we’d all go by my brand loyalty standards and use whatever brand Costco  sells in bulk to get the job done.Don’t act like you’re not a brand whore like me, either.  You know full well that if Costco stopped selling charmin ultra and moved to something else, you’d be right there with the rest of us using the new product.Note to Costco: If you change away from charmin ultra, I’ll be pissed.  Fully expect me to sigh heavily, tell my shopping companion that “I can’t believe they’d switch away from charmin ultra.  That stuff is the best!”  Then I will quietly load the new brand into my cart and never speak of it again.  So there… take that!  Fear the all-powerful brand whore that is Ryan.

pound for pound

One of my favorite conversations in nba announcer history: (JVG = Jeff Van Gundy)
Mark Jackson: AI could be, pound for pound, the best player in NBA history.

JVG: Are you nuts? He’s not the best player in NBA history.

Jackson: I said pound for pound.

JVG: I heard you. You said he’s the best player in NBA history.

Jackson: No, I said pound for pound.

JVG: What does that even mean?

Jackson: Sugar Ray Leonard wasn’t a heavy weight and wouldn’t have beat Ali, but he was considered the best fighter ever.

JVG: I bet I sound like an idiot because I don’t understand what you’re talking about.

Jackson: I bet you think I’m an idiot too.

Mike Breen: I’m surrounded by idiots.

just my wife, or women in general?

[13:29:44] ryan: she’s an impenetrable force of irrationality

[13:29:51] ryan: wow

[13:29:54] ryan: I need to write that down

[13:30:13] [redacted]: you may also have described women in general

[13:30:30] ryan: did…did I just crack the code?

A Lesson

I don’t like cheese. My friends tell me that I’m “un-American” or “ridiculous” or “an incredibly amazing guy.” Ok, they only tell me two of those things. But nonetheless, the taste of cheese doesn’t appeal to me. Except in Mac ‘n Cheese, cheezits, grilled cheese sandwiches, pizza, string cheese, etc. But I don’t like cheese on most things like tacos, burritos, hamburgers, vegeatables, etc. Yes, I know my clasp of the cheese world is loose, but hey- I’m entitled to eat what I want, right?My hatred of cheese on most things has led me to enjoy things in life a bit different that other people. Any ex girlfriend of mine can easily spout out my order at any of 10 fast food restaurants. All of them contain the phrase “no cheese”. Is this difficult for those little workers to understand? I’m not allergic to it, but if I was, I would be dead by now. For sure.

I bring up cheese because it directly relates to why I made a mistake last week, and learned a lesson from it this week. It was thursday, and I was driving home from work. The local radio station has a show called “happy hour” from 5-7pm, which is undoubtedly aimed at people driving home from work. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that “happy hour” is singular, not plural, so if they wanted it to be 2 hours long, it should be called “happy hours.” On said drive home, on said day, on said show, they were yapping merrily about how much fun they were having at a local bar. Apparently they’ve found some technology that allows them to broadcast remotely. At said bar, they were apparently having a lingerie show, happy hour prices on beers, free tickets to stuff, and (dun dun dun) FREE TACOS.

I called a few friends, bribed them with the news of free tacos and scantily clad women, and we met up at the bar. The bar was, in a word, dirty. I don’t mean it had dirt on it, either. I mean the people were dirty. The guy who checked our ID’s was dirty. He said “hey pull out your wallet and pretend you’re showing me an ID, man.” The place was THAT dirty. Why didn’t I know about places like this before I was 21?

We were immediately greeted by 2 scantily clad girls. Hey- truth in advertising! One of them said, in her sexiest voice, “Hey boys, wanna buy a raffle ticket? $1 each, or 8 for $5.” Apparently the scantily clad women had a cause. I brushed them aside and headed for the bar. My not-so-intelligent friend fell under their spell, and thought that because they were talking to him, they must like him. Idiot. He bought $5 worth of tickets.

We casually sat down, ordered a round of coronas, and soaked up the… dirt. Seriously, the place was dirty. Then came our mistake. When the guy asked “Do you guys want some tacos?” we should have immediately run. Did we run? No. Did we turn them down? No. Did we eat dirty tacos at a dirty bar? You bet.

To bring the story full circle, and give an excuse for my actions, I have to note that the tacos natively did not have cheese. I figured that anyone who makes tacos without cheese has to make good tacos… so it’s a bad excuse… who are you to criticize me?

Now the lesson- here I am, the following week. My stomach STILL feels like someone wrapped an ace bandage around it and continually increases and decreases the pressure. My friends feel the same way. We’ve each established close, personal relationships with toilets wherever we go, and ruined those relationships during the ensuing battle. So, I guess I’ve learned that a free taco isn’t always worth it.