To test the facilities, EPIC went to the site of the event. Here are some of the highlights of the venue, taken by Tim Hart.
Me riding dirty on the horse.
Me trying to skate
Overall I think this will be a successful event. We're having up to 64 people there.
So, I came dressed up special for work because I had an important meeting I'd been preparing for during the last month. I even wore my favorite ugly sweater. Unfortunately, the meeting got cancelled and I got dressed up for nothing. Oh well. My boss and I have a deal that for every time I wear a shirt and tie, I get to wear a wife beater and sweat pants to work.
In the German language, never short of words for embarrasment and humiliation, there's a word that means the feeling of shame that you feel for someone else who's doing something embarrassing and stupid. It's called fremdschaemen, and it is one of my new favorite words. It describes Michael Scott from the Office so well. So, to celebrate my learning a new word, I thought I'd start a new series on my blog about moments where I'm sure in their heart of hearts others have felt Fremdscham (noun version) for me.
Yup, I'm going to tell you some of my most embarrassing stories because, well, I would like to kill any chance I have of being a politician or respectable private citizen. Don't worry, though, as I'll post some of my favorite Youtube videos at the end of each post in this series.
So, for the first story...
One day, when I was eight or nine, my four siblings and I were watching a rerun of Who's the Boss? on television. At one point, sassy grandma Mona yelled at the family, who were harassing her: "You're giving me PMS!"
Sassy Grandma Mona
So, sexually enlightened and educated child as was, I thought that this was a good phrase to use. I mean, a hilarious woman on television used it, so why can't I? So, soon thereafter - 20 minutes? - my wonderful siblings pushed my buttons because, well, my buttons were/are so easy to push. Getting mad, I yelled at them: "Stop it! You're giving me PMS." The older siblings among them started busting up laughing. I think one of my siblings actually told my parents, who also started laughing. Boy was I mad. But fortunately, my siblings didn't bring this up again. Maybe they had compassion. Or grew tired of the joke. Or they felt such a profound feeling of Fremdscham that they repressed it from their memories.
I'm guessing it was the latter.
And now for a wonderful Youtube video. Please forgive the small bits of Finnish at the beginning:
This Monday morning I cam to work sporting my shiny $5 haircut. I had let it grow out for a few months because, frankly, I was too lazy and busy to get one (it certainly wasn't about the money). One of my co-workers said quite honestly too me: "You look much better with the clean cut look. You're head's small, and it looked kinda funny with the long hair."
Alas, my small, narrow head has shut the door on another fashion possibility: long hair. My dream of joining an 80s hair band was crushed in one fell swoop. He was right, though, but it hurt nonetheless.
Let me tell you of another male fashion accessory that is now closed to me: mustaches. Yup, I can't grow a mustache. Observe this photo from my long hair days (prior to the mullet):
As you can see, the beard is full, but the mustache is quite lacking. I guess I'll never aspire to this man's mustachioed greatness:
That's candidate Ben Wirtschafter, running for judge in Yuba County, America's meth capital (we gotta be #1 in something). Just look at the volume, the color, and the pizzazz of that mustache! I can't grow anything that awesome. And think of what I could do with a sucker like that: meet women at the local church ice cream social, serve sarsaparilla at the local tavern, sell used cars, and shine at the local discotheque. No, I suppose I'm condemned to the life of a shaven upper lip.
I mean, Trebek looks fine without the stache, right?
