End of era part II

Prairie Life recently decided they were more upset by my lack of money than I was. I suppose I should be offended by a club letting me go that doesn't pay me anything for hours that i'm there and not training. I was really hoping if I got fired to have a baseball players farewell and simply open my locker one day to a hanging red card. Instead they had to act all adult and mature and schedule a meeting. Nothing really incites my anger like a display of responsibility in place of a well humored firing. I was, however, fortunate enough to witness another bathroom act that made my day much better upon leaving. It is evidently common practice for males who are so busy/lazy that they don't have enough time to fully pull down the front end of their shorts to simply lift up one leg of the shorts and let it rip. The risk benefit ratio for this action is hugely slanted in favor of risk. The thrill of failure and utter embarrassment must be what entices young entrepreneurs these days.

Last night I went to a Papa Roach concert. I had to put my head in an ice bath for an hour after to re-solidify my face after "Last Resort" reduced it to a melted indistinguishable puddle of flesh.
After two bands I noticed something was amiss. Angry white guys...check; mohawks, tattoos, piercings...check; obese white women...check; disturbed gothic looking youth...check; hot women and minorities...nothing. What's wrong with the world today if hot women refuse to go to hard rock concerts. They have to do something in between John Mayor and Lady Gaga shows. And black people, WTF? The lead singer of Sevendust is black. How about some solidarity. The only way angry white guys can shake the stereotype of rock concerts is for more people from other demographics to show up. I mean i'd go see Jay-Z if he ever came to Omaha. And also if he charged less than 100 dollars for tickets. But that seems unlikely to happen. Maybe I should just embrace my own stereotype and get a mohawk and some tattoos. Any good tattoo ideas?

P.S. The spell check of blogger is telling me mohawk should be capitalized or hyphenated. I dunno.

Locker Room escapades

I stopped to wash my hands in the locker room today and I casually glanced to my left to acknowledge the dude standing there. He seemed like a normal enough guy at first glance: shaving cream on his face, white t-shirt, inconspicuous hair. Something seemed off though. When I turned to leave I finally saw it. And yes I mean 'it. Below the 'mason dixon' line was nothing except socks. Who goes for a shave with a t-shirt, no pants, and socks? My mouth formed was forming this very question before my feet wisely took over; I exited without an encounter.

A week or so ago I saw a guy in a similar situation who was completely naked and simply rubbing his chest up and down without even a pretense of normal grooming. It occurred to me then that we need two locker rooms for men: one for people who like being naked, and the other for people who simply see it as one step towards getting clean. My uneasiness around hairy, naked, fat men has caused me to refine my locker room routine to the point where the CIA would be impressed with my efficiency.

I'm wondering if some sort of analysis can be gleaned from these observations. Should I be tapering my programs towards acquiring extra girth around the mid section so men have more of themselves to rub? I'd say the answer lies just beneath the surface but if that's the answer...I think i'm asking the wrong question.