Same musical shit, different day.

Pop quiz!

50 Cent refers to:

A. The headliner in this year's Spring Weekend concert
B. The maximum amount after taxes that Ryan Prescott would ever concievably spend on this year's Spring Weekend concert
C. The current selling price of one Curtis Jackson, if he were a share of common stock
D. All of the above



If you picked D, pat yourself on the back. You're smarter than everybody at SUBOG. (If anybody from SUBOG happens to read this and picks D, I'm sorry if your head begins to hurt as a result of this paradox, but you brought this upon yourself. And if you didn't pick D, case in point).


(Quick note: The host site of this picture is some website called SurlyTaco.com. No idea what that is, but I like it).

In case you haven't figured out how this blog works yet, I'm irritated. Irritated, but not surprised. You see, as much as I would have loved to have a halfway decent act perform at UConn, I never for a second believed it would happen. To live in a world where I put that much faith in humanity would be to live in a world of constant disappointment. That said, despite my grizzled Grinchlike heart, I maintained a small glimmer of hope that just MAYBE I'd pick up a Daily Campus and be pleasantly surprised. Just MAYBE I would read that an artist I like was coming here, and some peculiar thing would happen where the edges of my mouth curled upward...and my brow became unfurrowed...my arms uncrossed...I'd rub my eyes in disbelief...and then a powerful Fonzi-level thumbs up for the ages, at no one in particular. At the camera. There should be a camera.

But no. Instead we get this. A putrid, unholy pile of dog shit. And no, I don't think it's cute that he's from Connecticut. He sucks. You know that piece of shit movie, Jeepers Creepers? Where that ugly mutant scarecrow thing comes around every 23 years to eat people for 23 days? Well I feel like right now we're in that peaceful hiatus in between the beast's feeding frenzies, and we're so smug in our invincibility, we cocky teenagers. Well we're about to get a major shitbomb dropped on us in Jeepers Creepers 2, when the stupid bat-creature comes back to feast on our human flesh once again. If you're not quite there on the analogy, "Fitty" is the evil bat creature, and apparently I am every character in both of the fucking movies, since everyone else seems to be chomping at the bit to be eaten.

The analogy works in more than one way because when watching one of the Jeepers Creepers movies, much like listening to one of 50 Cent's albums, you sit there and think to yourself, "Was this really fucking made? Did a studio really OK this for production? Maybe someone threw up all over the master tapes and this came out by accident." Well, if you're me, that's what you think.

You know how glad you were that people stopped saying "Go shorty, it's your birthday" for a while? Well fuck you, because it's coming back. How about "Been shot 9 times but I don't walk with a limp?" Get ready for it. 50's lyrics have been adopted and butchered by more teenage girls than Napoleon Dynamite. We could have let him go in the corner and die, but just like Brendan Fraser in the Mummy, we had to read from the book of the dead and bring his rotten carcass back to life.

Okay, so the man's not Willie Nelson, but I am right in my assumption that he hasn't done a damn thing in quite some time, correct? He's like ninety-six in rapper years. And here I thought the whole point of pandering to the masses when picking the Spring Weekend concert was snatching the artist from the top of the charts regardless of staying power or musical merit. That probably would have yielded us Lady GaGa, so, fuck. I wish at least we could book our generic and uninspired concert lineups at the height of their popularity. If he was 50 Cent when he was popular (Get Rich or Die Tryin was 2003), inflation has to have pushed his net worth to over 75 cents by now, right? Is he 50 Cent in today's dollars or 2003's?

Freshman Year: OAR
Sophomore Year: Dashboard Confessional
Junior Year: T-Pain/Flo-Rida
Senior Year: 50 Cent

Holy shit, it's Malthus' four horsemen of the apocalyspe. I think 50 might just be pestilence.

So kids, I close by alerting you that in the spirit of this hellacious day (with a killer cold to boot), I have posted just before this entry my letter to the editor from last year reacting to the T-Pain/Flo-Rida fiasco. This is the version I sent them, pre-edit. I won't write them again, because it would probably be the same letter, but in the interest of full disclosure, voila.

As for me, you can find me nowhere near da club. With a bottle full of Everclear, drowning my sorrows.

Letter to the Editor (Spring Weekend Concert '08)

I am writing this letter on the behalf of all those out there just like me. The downtrodden, the frustrated, the unfortunate minority. I am referring to those people who believe that music should be something more than a rhythmic addition to dance-floor foreplay. Specifically, the selection of T-Pain and Flo Rida as this year's Spring Concert. I could not be any more disappointed with the selection of these soon-to-be nobodies for the landmark event of Spring Weekend (well, the one you'll see publicized). Seriously, I would rather listen to Donnie and Marie on repeat for 48 hours than hear "Low" one more time. I would rather be attacked by a pack of ravenous wolverines than hear "I'm N Love (Wit a Strippa)" I have no interest in buying "shawty" a "drank." What's up with all the phonetics in these song titles, by the way? I wouldn't be surprised if the rappers that wrote them truly didn't know how to spell the words.

Get ready to laugh. I like music with instruments in it. I appreciate musicians who put years of time and practice into honing their musical craft. Silly me! Maybe it's because I know how hard it is, having played bass and guitar for more than six years. I also appreciate musicians who write their own songs, rather than relying on producers to do it for them. Now here comes along somebody like T-pain, famous for appearing in every song currently on the radio and lending his horribly distorted vocals to every chorus. Where would T-Pain be without Pro Tools? Probably still in the unemployment line. The headliners for this year's concert have about as much talent as William Hung on a good day.

So what do I suggest? I don't know, maybe somebody like Incubus? Muse? A fairly prominent band that actually has some staying power and talent. I would hope to God that those concerts might garner as much success as the one lined up for this Spring Weekend. Now I know what many of you are thinking. "But Ryan, last year's concert was Dashboard Confessional! They play instruments!" No. Just no. Emo does NOT count. If the entire audience is weeping, and they're not watching "Schindler's List," I want nothing to do with it.

The night of the concert, I will venture no closer to Gampel than North Parking Garage, lest I be subjected to overhearing the musical abomination taking place in our beloved arena. I mean, honestly. How many songs can one possibly endure in a row that involve being in a club? What were these people doing before they became rappers that allowed them to spend every waking hour in a club? Okay, that's enough ranting. I just wanted to get all of this off my chest, because for every couple orange-spray-on-tanned, popped collared club rat, there are a few more people like me, rolling their eyes so hard it disrupts the Earth's gravitational pull.

-Author's Note: This letter was written before the inclusion of Method Man and Redman was announced. Now, while Method Man and Redman are not Lennon and McCartney, I have a lot more respect for them because of their longevity in the rap scene. They have been around for years and have been relatively consistent in their work. My biggest objection with T-Pain and Flo Rida is that I believe they are total flare-ups, one hit wonders soon to join the ranks of Chumbawumba and Natalie Imbruglia. Method Man and Redman should ABSOLUTELY be headlining this show. Having them open is a crime against humanity. By the way, the Redman song "Smash Sumthin'" is a phenomenal song and is fully endorsed by this author.
-Ryan Prescott, 6th semester Psychology Major

Empty your wallets, it's Valentine's Day!

Valentine's Day sucks. I have several problems with Valentine's day. The first of which is the historical bastardization done by the holiday's current incarnation.

According to Wikipedia (and we always trust Wikipedia...), the tradition of Valentine's day dates back to two Christian Martyrs. See, in these days, Valentine was a popular Christian name, and martyrdom was a popular Christian pasttime. These two men, Valentine of Rome and Valentine of Terni, were killed about 70 years apart and an annual Pagan festival was created to honor them.

Something like 1700 years later, Kay Jewelers demands that I buy my girlfriend a diamond necklace. What happened here?

You may have noticed that in essence, this entry is the same as 12/31's "'Tis the Season for Obligatory Spending." Indeed, just as we have commercialized and mutilated Christmas, so too have we ruined this great Pagan ritual.

Okay, okay. Of course I wouldn't give a damn about the ritual if it still existed today as it did in its original form. My real problem with the whole thing is that a festival for two murdered men has degenerated into what we see today. Why stick with Valentine's day? The original holiday has absolutely NOTHING to do with love or romance. Why piss on these two men's graves by cheapening their legacy and making their day completely unrecognizable? Why couldn't they just come up with a different day? Lover's day? Something like that?

Another reason Valentine's day is stupid is that it's reached a Christmaslike proportion of obligatory spending. The whole point of the day now is to show off how much you love someone by buying them material things. What a poignant reminder of what a festering shithole our society is. You love your girlfriend, right John Q. Dickhead? Well you better go out and buy her a teddy bear, box of chocolates, a Lexus with a giant bow on it, and a vibrating butt plug, or else you're toast.

Our society is already sadly materialistic on any other day, but Valentine's day just takes it over the top. Wikipedia also said that it's estimated men spend twice as much as women on this bullshit holiday. Why the hell do we need to buy each other stuff again? Really? Birthdays, Christmas and Anniversaries aren't enough? You really need a stupid day like Valentine's day to buy more shit? Yeah, no. I don't subscribe to this particular brand of consumerist crap. Hallmark and Russell Stover are laughing all the way to the bank today, because somehow they convinced our country that you don't love your significant other unless you buy them chocolate and a shitty card. What ever happened to making your own card? If you can't put love into your own words, don't even bother. You suck.

You might think the way I write about Valentine's Day that I'm bitterly single. Negative. I'm in a happy relationship (and things are going okay with Brittney, too...), but I'll be damned if that'll change my thoughts on this diarrhea-fest of a holiday.

Why do girls fall for this shit? Honestly? Girls reading this, think about it this way. You and I are dating. (Man, it's your lucky day!) It's Valentine's day. I get you something. Is that more or less special than me getting you something at some random point in time? That's right, much less special. Am I getting you something on Valentine's day because I care, or am I doing it because I feel like I have to, under pressure from advertisers, what other couples are doing, and the like? Valentine's day is like changing the oil in your car. You don't want to do it, it's a pain in the ass, but it's something you have to do to keep it running properly.

If you don't do something on V-Day and you have the wrong kind of girlfriend (which, thankfully, I don't), ohhhh boy. Why don't you care? Did you know that X and Y are going to a nice dinner tonight? And Z bought Q a necklace. Now you're screwed. But as long as girls keep falling for it, guys have to keep pretending they give a shit. And that's the bottom line, 'cuz Stone Cold said so.

Shout out to all my single homies out there today who feel like the whole world is laughing at them. I feel you, too. But believe me: Whether you're single or involved on Valentine's Day, it still sucks. Ass.

But you, my readers... I love you all. And we're bangin' tonight. <3

"Thank You" and other strange conventions

Just when I thought Nacho Cheese was pulling the upset, I've just learned that an unruly sabateur has been employing a dastardly technique known as the "multiple vote." Indeed, it's a Cool Ranch world and we're all living in it. Nacho Cheese people, your stock is falling. After this last debacle, you're on par with Philadelpha Eagles fans. Next stop, Kiss supporters. Denim Douche is the state of Florida and this debacle is the dimpled chad. But alas, I understand. The zesty taste of Cool Ranch (I refuse to add the -er, for reasons of moniker stupidity) is enough to drive any man, woman, or child crazy with Ranch envy. Cain killed Abel for exactly these reasons. Theology scholars, you know what I'm talkin' bout.

Anyway, this entry isn't completely about the immediate fallout from the chip wars. It's about "Thank You" and other strange conventions. Because that's what the title says. I don't steer you wrong vis a vis the title. (I briefly consider changing the title to something about Koala bears just to fuck with you. Nah.)

You see, the other day I was sitting in class when a stack of papers was being passed down the aisle. I took my paper and handed the remaining pile to the girl behind me. "Thank you," she said. Two words: more than enough to get the gears turning. Why did this girl thank me? I didn't do anything. I handed her some papers. That is a completely unremarkable task. It's not like I went out of my way to do anything like hold the door for her, or pick up something she dropped. No, I just continued the assembly line of paper-passing, and she thanked me. I feel like "thank you" should be reserved for things I really don't have to do. I don't have to pick up your pen. I don't have to hold the door for you. But I do. Thank me. If I had for some reason bizarrely refused to pass on the papers, that makes me a dick, and then you should tell me to fuck off. I'd have it coming, and being a logical human being, I'd probably nod in agreement as you were verbally abusing me.

So I think I've got a pretty firm handle on the "thank you" phenomenon. I thank people when they go out of their way for me. Got it. So later in the day, I'm aboard the blue line heading back towards W lot. I get off the bus. "Thank you," I say to the driver. "You're welcome" she says. I listen to the people behind me. Do they thank the driver? No. I am a good person. These people suck. Why not thank your friendly civil servants? But wait...Ah, the gears start turning. Why did I thank HER? Maybe I was in the wrong here. The bus driver has to drive me around, this of course according to the Anti-Discrimination Law of 1977. It would be absolutely unreasonable and of course, illegal for them to refuse me a ride. Furthermore, they're being paid to do a service and I expect them to do it. Why, then, do I feel the need to thank the bus driver, but not the person passing me a stack of papers? Where is the line? What is the difference?

There is none. That's why it's a strange convention. (See: title.) I guess we all make up arbitrary times where we feel the need to thank people, and where we don't. I suppose it's the same random process by which people decide how much to tip wait staff. Who knows. Maybe you were expecting a grand revelation in this paragraph, but I fail to completely wrap my head around it. Could be the booze.

Allow me to conclude by not thanking you for reading this. It would be completely illogical for you to not read it. It's stimulating and it makes you smarter. Why would you deprive yourself of this? You're welcome. You're so very welcome.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, here is an old picture I photoshopped, spelling my name out of letters from band logos. How many can you spot!?

Nacho Cheese V. Cool Ranch: The Great Debate

I love the poll feature on this blog. (Thanks, Blogger!) For one, it gives me a crude estimate as to how many people are reading (Although, comments are on the rise, so there's less of a need for trickery). But really, I just enjoy a good poll. I want to live vicariously through all of you. I imagine myself as a loyal Cronie, loading this site, and saying "Zoinks! A new survey!!!" Cronies talk like that. God, if only I could be you in that moment...that is if you're anything like me. I answer the poll on the UConn homepage, I answer the poll on ESPN.com...anywhere there's a poll, you'll find me. Just as long as it's not some dickhead calling me during dinner. (Thanks, Do Not Call list!) I think I've reached my quota for maximum usage of parentheses per entry, whatdya think? I'm also steadily approaching maximum usage of the word "poll." Shit. That's one less.

It's hard to come up with a good poll, so usually I fill mine with asinine crap. Now don't get me wrong, asinine crap is certainly a favorite of mine, but recent events have thrust a crucial and time-tested question back into the forefront of my thoughts. Hell, you've already read the title, there's no use being cryptic. I'm talking Doritos flavors. Of course, those well-versed in the Denim Douche archives already know that the true champion of the Doritos flavor line is Guacamole. This is not debatable.

But what of their two flagship flavors, Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch? Now this is exciting. This is Lennon v. McCartney. Magic Johnson v. Larry Bird. David St. Hubbins v. Nigel Tufnel. Fire and Ice. Hell, the bags even look like fire and ice. The two juggernauts of the flavored tortilla chip throwing down. I don't care if you like a more obscure flavor best, as do I. No one debates Ringo vs. Harrison, because nobody cares. If you leave me a comment saying actually picking a winner to that debate, I will assault you. And it's Harrison. The point being, you shall choose between these two pillars of the corn-chip Parthenon. There will be no "other" option on this poll, in the interest of relevance.

You might think it odd that this is my second Doritos related post here on the Douche, and I must agree that while Doritos are a fine, fine snack choice, I fear that I have overrepresented them on this site, and for that slight journalistic breach of balance, I apologize. Everyone knows that Salt & Vinegar kettle chips are better, anyway. But that's a debate for another day.

I thought about writing a little something about each flavor, but everyone's had both. That's a waste of time. I also thought about withholding my endorsement in the interest of neutrality, but I have faith that my readers have strength enough in their convictions not to be influenced by my opinion. Haha, yeah right. You all suck. Besides, this is an oft-debated subject and my own proclivities are fairly well documented. That is to say...

I'm a Cool Ranch man.

Go, my children, and vote. A poll we can all care about. Let your voice be heard. By the 4 or 5 other people reading this.

And don't forget to read about the 10 greatest movie theme songs of all time. Doritos and movie theme songs... We value self-betterment here at the Douche. We, of course, being me.

Ten greatest movie theme songs.

You wouldn't know it at first, but living among us, among all the crap and bile floating around this pee-pool we call society, are some things that do not suck. These things are in fact, cool. I am, of course, reiterating that I don't actually hate everything. Some things are awesome. This entry is about things that are awesome.

During the snow day this past week, I watched Back to the Future 2 and 3. I had never seen 3, and while not quite up there with 1 and 2, it still kicks ass. And so does the theme song. It's awesome. It's inspiring, and I love it. So while I was thinking about how cool the theme song is, and situations in my life where it might be appropriate (every time I enter a room?), I decided I would do a little top ten... in no particular order, because ranking things is a real bitch. Without any further ado, the Top Ten Movie theme songs!

1. Back to the Future:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zSw2V_vW0Y
No surprise here. After all, the Back to the Future theme was the segue into the top ten. So, as for the theme music, it's awesome. It does everything a full-scale orchestral theme song should. Inspires one, pumps one up, and fills one with visions of fluxcapacitors and 1.21 Gigawatts of energy. Even that asshole Biff would love this theme song. Now where the hell is my hoverboard?

2. Star Wars:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EjMNNpIksaI
Obvious. There shouldn't be any head-scratchers in the first few selections here. The Star Wars theme is one of the most classic epic theme songs of all time. Right now you're thinking of that background of space where the narrowing text scrolls over and tells an unnecessarily complicated version of what the hell's going on. I mean, you're bound to figure it out in a few minutes once the movie starts, but who cares. This theme song kicks ass.

3. Jurassic Park:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQTWNjr25WQ
Also obvious. I think the theme song actually outdoes the epicness of the movie itself, to tell the truth. Mind you, this movie is about escaped dinosaurs wreaking havoc on an island. So you tell me what that says about the theme song. Lots of glorious horn-playing in this one. I'd imagine the Pearly Gates have a similar soundtrack.

4. Pirates of the Carribean:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LZcMv0H1bI&feature=related
Our good friends Captain Jack, Will Turner, and that fine ass Elizabeth would swordfight around to nothing less. Fantastic string section that makes you want to take to the high seas. Raping and pillaging, that's your game. God, you're a douchebag. I would go so far as to say that this song is rousing. Yes, rousing.

5. Requiem for a Dream:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKLpJtvzlEI&feature=related
Ah, a twist. While all the theme songs up to this point have been lively, uplifting, and adventurous, now it's time for me to sucker punch you in the mouth with this one. This one has a slow pulsing beat that's designed to depress the crap out of you. But it doesn't slouch on the epic factor, no. Epicness comes in many forms. If you ever want to sit by yourself and think about how your life is in the shitter, this is the soundtrack for you. (I'd never heard this version, it actually picks up towards the middle and becomes rousing. Yeah, that's right, rousing.)

6. Rocky:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PtvLTZS4Ik
Disclaimer: I've never seen this movie. Fuck you, I'm working on it. Good theme song, fantastic marching band material (I'm looking at you, UConn pep band), and despite me never having seen the movie to you I have seen enough clips and parodies to be able to construct a fairly perfect synopsis of this song's use in the movie. It's a montage whereupon Rocky is running up and down all those stairs in Philly, drinking raw eggs, and raising his arms above his head a lot. Pretty close?

7. Bond. James Bond.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ye8KvYKn9-0&feature=related
You're thinking of Sean Connery right now, aren't you? Yeah, me too. But when am I not? This theme song is great, and for some reason built a strong association between this type of swinging big band music and spies. Who would have thought? Love that chord at the end. Legendary.

8. Jaws
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qhe08b3XgE
This movie is a favorite of mine. I have a strange fascination with those evil creatures of death, Great White Sharks. How the fuck did Richard Dreyfuss have the balls to get in that cage with Jaws' humongous ass in the water? The theme song starts off slow and brooding, and uses the effect of quickly getting louder to symbolize your impending death when his bad ass is comin' for ya. Love Jaws, love the theme. Oh, but the sequels are enormous piles of shit. Miserably bad.

9. Shawshank Redemption:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTeE4wdfEVY&feature=related
A few years ago I officially anointed this as my favorite movie. In Shawshank's case, the "theme song" wasn't as painfully obvious as the others on the list, but there's no way this song couldn't be on here. No goddamn way. When this song cues up at the end of the movie I fight the urge to cry EVERY TIME. And this is from a hulking, bear-wrestling, whiskey-drinking, shave-with-a-rusty-jackknife man's man. Oh, and if for some reason you haven't seen this movie, stop reading and go watch it. Better yourself.

10. Braveheart:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ifr4aGA2o_A
Explaining why songs like these deserve recognition is getting old. The Braveheart theme is great and different from a lot of the rest on the list. The use of bagpipes will do that. Also it has a lot of quieter parts with flute stealing the spotlight. I'm secure enough in my masculinity to like a good flute. So, too, should you. Unite us. Unite our clans.

Honorable Mentions:
Indiana Jones - I'm sure I'll catch heat for this, but the theme song is cheesy. That's fine, because the movies themselves are cheesy, and that's certainly their appeal. I just find nothing stirring about the Indy theme. I want stirring.

Mission Impossible - Cool theme, just not cool enough to dethrone the Bond theme. For some reason I just couldn't include both. I don't know why.

The A-Team - This is a show, which is why it wasn't on the list. The song is fantastic. I hear there's a movie rumored to come out this year. I don't really care, but I like the theme.

So there you have it. The ten greatest theme songs in movie history (again, no particular order). Just like SportsCenter and Letterman, I can't avoid a good top ten. Feel free to disagree with me, arguing is just the cat's pajamas for me. Adieu.

Locker room heebie jeebies

I'd like to start this entry by calling out my readers. Yes, that's right. You're mine. I've been luring you in with subliminal messages for weeks now. Although to be honest, the.. umm.. liminal messages are pretty fucking awesome too. Liminal should be a word, thus I will use it despite its nonsensical nature. At the bar last night, I was approached by several bright-eyed fans, fans I didn't even know were fans. I think people who enjoy this blog need their own name. I will call you Cronies. Anyway, I was approached by Cronies and was thrilled to find out that the word is getting around. So thank you. I need to invest in a hit counter on this motherfucker so I know how many people are actually reading this shit. Pardon my French. Just wait until the subliminal messages inspire you to incite riots. So, people, keep it coming. Don't lurk in anonymity. Announce your Cronie-hood.

One quirk I've become quite fond of in writing this blog, this manifesto on living life properly, is the intro paragraph that has nothing to do with the main focus of the post. In this case, the futility has extended into the second paragraph. Every word you're currently reading is completely inconsequential. In fact, you're probably better off not reading it. It's extraneous. I'll ramble on semi-coherently and then start the next paragraph with "Anyway," followed by me getting to the point. I wish I had a toothpick to get this popcorn out of my goshdarned bicuspids.

Anyway, I went to the gym today. But wait, there's more. So, I'm not much of a locker room type of guy. I push the door open, and what the hell! There's half-naked dudes everywhere. It fucking stinks like sweat. I don't want to be in this place. For whatever reason, though, everyone else seems totally comfortable. Everyone is shirtless, chatting it up, having a grand ol' time, in no rush to get on with their workout. The locker room, to me, is a means to an end. I get changed there so I can leave. Apparently to everyone else, it is a sweat-drenched social Mecca.

In fact, in an effort not to belabor the point in the locker room, I wear what I'm going to work out in UNDER my sweats. What a novel idea. So in short, I pull off my sweatshirt and sweatpants and I'm good to go. I avoid changing my T-shirt because I don't want all the other guys to get jealous and cry due to my washboard abs. So at this point, there's an old dude changing to my left. Fast fact: at any given point, there are as many old guys in the locker room as there are on all the courts and exercise equipment combined. Old guys fucking love the locker room. I guess that's where they all go when they stop paying their dues for the Rotary club or something.

But this is what you may not know, ladies. Old guys get full-on ass naked in the locker room. All the time. Out in the open. No towel, no stall. They just continue their conversations and make no effort to dress quickly. Haven't these guys ever seen a prison movie? Shit, here I am taking off my sweatpants with my ass touching the lockers behind me so that no one sticks their fingers in my butt, and these old guys are just doing the wang-out hangout. According to my sources in the female world, old ladies do not get butt-naked in the locker room. But then again, I don't see nearly as many old ladies as old men in the gym. Perhaps they have different solutions for re-living their youth. Crocheting? Ironing? Who knows.

This really isn't new. It's just that I had the blog on the mind after my ego-boosting experiences at the bar. (Tying the first paragraph back into the main point? 50 points. I guess it's not completely extraneous after all.) Literally every time I go into the locker room, there's a naked old dude. Possibly two. Oh, I don't search them out. They're right fucking there. Usually right when I open the door. Seriously, if you planned on getting completely stark naked, would you choose the locker RIGHT behind the door? Me neither. It's like these old dudes really want us to see their ass-tattoos from their Navy days. No, I didn't see an ass-tattoo, but that doesn't mean there wasn't one. I try not to look. Young guys get naked too sometimes, but it seems to only be swimmers. Fucking weirdos. Michael Phelps, eat your heart out.



God damned swimmers.

Anywhere else in society, if you see a naked old man, you're probably going to freak out. But in the locker room, there are no rules. I wonder if I just started pissing all over the floor, would anybody say anything? I'm telling you, this place is ass-backwards. Can we invest in like, a curtain? Stand behind the curtain when you drop trou, Chet. No exposed balls past this point, Walter. I guess that's the best suggestion I have to end the insanity of the elderly and the nude. (Great title for the Denim Douche movie, I have to say. Or maybe the sequel. DD 2: The Elderly and the Nude.) I just had to get it off my chest.

If any girls want to provide details on how things operate in the ladies' locker room (Hot, steamy details), or have information on the goings on of the old-lady locker room faithful, leave a comment or write something on facebook. I mean, I assume the majority of girls do those crazy Houdini tricks where they can take off or put on a bra or underwear under like half a dozen layers, but are there some weird exhibitionists who just whip 'em out? Are they also swimmers? Why do swimmers love to be naked? Do you enjoy my blatant profiling? I actually am curious about this shit. I'm fucked in the head.