Every month I pen a short piece for InThePowderRoom, probably the greatest humor blog on the web. Or, more accurately, the greatest humor blog on the web that has asked me to contribute. And every month, the head editor Sarah reminds me a week before my deadline. The column is titled “What Does He Think?” and involves reviewing products designed for women, but from a male perspective. And since I’m not a broad, each month I freak out because I don’t know much about women’s products. Obviously I’m up on all the latest lip plumper glosses (who isn’t?), but I can’t write about that every month. I’m a professional, dammit!

It often takes time for me to zero in on the main joke of an article. The easy part is to find a woman’s product – but then I have to come up with the angle that makes it worth writing. This month it took me until the day before deadline. I had remembered that a few years back Bic had created a pen line exclusively for women. The company just took existing pens and colored them pink and purple (some had sparkles). Social and traditional media united for an assault on Bic for reducing women to traditional gender stereotypes. It’s not the biggest misstep a marketing team ever made, but they sure took a beating in the press.

During the product launch people took to Amazon in droves to write satirical reviews. Most of them are still up. I didn’t want to rehash someone else’s review, or try to best them. This left me with no original ideas for my article. But my instinct said there was a joke here, and a good one. I had no idea what it would look like, but I had to trust that it would emerge.

I know I sound like a pretentious douche, but it’s a good lesson for me in trusting intuition. And five days later the joke came to me. Not unlike Moses with the tablets of the law, I was visited by a spirit. Also, atop a high mountain, ironically. (I’m an avid rock climber.)

Just for the record I’ve never climbed even one rock. But one time I drove into Yosemite and cracked a Fresca while watching people attempt to scale El Capitan. That counts.

The concept for the Bic piece is this – what if I wrote a review where I never actually reviewed the product? Oh, and a Franz Kafka-esque tie-in would fit nicely, I felt. And nothing is more satisfying to me than finding a joke that was before hidden in the brambles of my mind.

You ought to go read it right now before you step outside your apartment complex on your way to the market and get hit by a bus. Don’t scoff. It happens!

Above image is the Copyright of Hold My Purse Productions, LLC.

• ChateauDeStarvo  – Make cat vomit funny.

I actually have a cat vomit story from when I was wee. Goddamn do I love alliteration! Anyway, I was forced to take piano lessons from an old bat named Mrs. Mayhew. My sister and I alternated which meant that for her 30 minutes I would keep myself busy by looking around Mrs. Mayhew’s home. She had, like all old people, a shitload of National Geographic magazines. I found one of the floor which had what appeared to be a 3D volcano on the cover. It was a huge mound of brown hardened glop. Impressed I thought, “Man, this magazine really does some cool stuff!” I reached over the top of the volcano and touched the inside. Smushy. When it was my turn for the lesson I told Mrs. Mayhew how I found the issue with the model volcano on the cover. She looked puzzled, went over to where I was playing and gasped. Yep, the cat had barfed on the magazine cover. Right next to the cover story – on volcanos.

• Mindy Fausey  – 10 Things You Can Do Without

I’ll give you five.

1. Popcorn Jelly Bellies, Circus Peanuts, and Candy Corn.
2. The word “retarded” being used by the non-retarded to mean “stupid” – that’s not what it means.
3. The expression “It is what it is” being used to soften the real emotion someone is feeling, which is usually “FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!”
4. People in 2013 who still flip through tv channels by pushing the up and down buttons on the remote.
5. The one guy in the office who refuses to say, “Bless you!” when you sneeze – yes, we get it. You’re a passive aggressive dick.

• Malfiliault  – Butt trivia

I will tell you some things about my own fanny. First, I always layer toilet seats when I am anywhere my at my own home, even though logic dictates that picking up a disease from a seat is nearly impossible. Second, I have a scar on right cheek from when  I fell through a glass table. Third, when I was 23 I asked two models in California to watch me walk away and evaluate how hot my ass looked in jeans. Lastly, I’m not one of those people that when they get up from a chair leaves the seat all hot. That really fouls me out when you sit on someone’s previous 100 degree butt.

• MrsDitter  –  How to bounce back after getting flamed on the interwebnet thingy

In real life the only way to handle bullies is to step up and defend yourself. Since bullies are cowards, this almost always works. But online, bullies are anonymous. When I get a nasty comment, I usually just apologize. I’ve learned that this usually reverses the direction of the anger. Since I don’t care what anonymous people feel about me, for a goof, I will say, “You’re right! I never thought of that before! I’m sorry for upsetting you.” It sounds like I’m being a huge pussy, but it’s really fun to try to win over someone who hates you. You’ll find that they’ll nearly always apologize back. Assholes are so predictable. It’s fun to screw with their mind.

• MollyKerrActor  – A  gay man tricks a hetero guy into having sex by pretending to be a transexual and then they fall in love and live happily

I think our definitions of sex are very different. Let’s just stop there.

• MargaGoGo  –  Squirrels. I’d like you to write about squirrels

I’ve already talked about how black squirrels freak me out. Sometimes, when I’m at my parents’ home in Peoria, I run at squirrels in the backyard just to see them take off and leap onto tree trunks. At thirty-seven, this still makes me giggle. I know squirrels survive winters, but I have no idea where they live. I guess inside of trees. They seem to be pretty cool with chipmunks, too. You ever actually seen an owl? Just shooting from the cuff here, people.

• WhiskeyIsh  –  Write for me a story about being not lower- or middle- or upper-class, but no-class. Bonus points for both funny and sad.

I’m going to attempt to accomplish this in the fewest number of words possible.

John dutch-ovened his wife on their 30th anniversary. No other gifts were provided.

• BethyLou10  –  The worst sound in the world.

This is a good one since I am ultrasensitive to acoustics. Certain frequencies will induce anxiety, nausea, joy, and anger in me. I’m not exaggerating. When my sister’s boyfriend, a fast-talking Queens native, speaks, I get a little dizzy. My mom can laugh and hit a note that pierces my ears. Most likely this is Sensory Processing Disorder at play. But many noises that bother others don’t bug me. For example, nails on a chalkboard or snoring.  I can fall asleep to a baby screaming.  So, my scale is calibrated a little differently than most. The sound that would make me dry-heave, however, I’ve been fortunate enough to never experience directly. I believe it’s called a queef.

And, to end on a low note, I’m going to do something rare – post a link to a video I love. It’s the amazing Stace Hole doing, well, she’s doing what she does. Enjoy.

For the past four days I’ve been at a Tony Robbins seminar in the suburbs of Chicago. Over five thousand people have come in from eighteen countries to listen to the man with the huge hands help them help themselves. During the past few days I’ve cheered, yelled, screamed to the heavens, cried, and danced to over fifty songs. I’ve hugged well over a hundred strangers and given group massages to participants. When I leave to go to the bathroom I instinctively high-five people coming out of the bathroom. This would not be well-received in polite society. But, hey, this is Tony Robbins. It’s the culture of the event. You drink the Kool-Aid.

One area where I was extremely suspicious was the firewalk on Day One. Just using my logical mind suggested that if this were really dangerous he wouldn’t have us do it. Nearly two million participants have walked on fire since his first seminar thirty-six years ago. He explained that in that entire history only twelve needed hospital attention. So, to me, this was not even a dangerous event. I wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Many people at the seminar, I could tell, were afraid of the firewalking. I don’t blame them. We’ve all touched a hot stove with our finger and felt the pain. I’ve heard burns are one of the most painful experiences the human body can endure. But a hot stove is only at roughly 650 degrees farenheit max. These coals were to be around 2000 degrees. Again, I wasn’t worried. Firewalking has been around for thousands of years, and people have been doing it for centuries without Tony Robbins’ help. We did have to sign a waiver of health liability, however.

Tony takes the safety of the participants very seriously. Even though there are only a few principles of firewalking, mechanically – stuff like how fast to walk, where to keep your eyes focused, and how to exit the firewalk without coals being stuck to you, he wanted to teach us how to go into a peak emotional and physical state so that our mind wouldn’t poop out during the experience.

For over two hours he taught us how to condition our nervous system to feel strong so that we could use all of our emotional, mental, and physical resources to get through this five second firewalk. At one point all five thousand of us even laid on the ground and did a hypnosis of sorts to get our unconscious mind in alignment.

Throughout all the hoopla, I was like, “C’mon, let’s move it along. I’m not afraid of this, and I don’t need all this conditioning. It’s only five seconds and there’s a lot of reseach that I’ve seen online that says it’s just about impossible to burn your feet if you walk at a regular clip.” Tony himself mentioned several times that this is not to prove to yourself that you can walk on fire – he says anyone can. This is a metaphor for being able to do something in life you thought you couldn’t do.

Well, that’s all great except I knew I could do it. So, I wasn’t as pumped about the firewalk as a lot of people.

In the midst of all of this, I made a decision – I would do the firewalk in the most unresourceful state possible. I’d summon fear, I’d walk slowly, I would not repeat the “cool moss” mantra (replaced with “This is hot!”), and I would actually “feel” my feet with every step. I wanted to try to feel the coals.

I knew it wasn’t dangerous, but I wanted to find out how non-dangerous it was, just because sometimes I’m weird like this.

When I got up to the grass and it was my turn, I feigned excitement. I got myself in the resourceful state, all pumped up to pass their gatekeeper. He has people that will assess whether you are in a peak state to be able to do the walk. If not, they yank you out for safety reasons. As soon as the guy yelled, “Go!” I dropped all the personal power I had and started walking.

The first few steps were fine. Sure I could feel the lava rocks beneath my feet and that is awkward, but it didn’t hurt. I thought, “See? This is no big deal. You don’t need all the pump-up to be okay. The feet can handle this all on it’s own.”

This lasted until my fourth step when I landed right in the middle of a coal and I felt it. I felt it hard. It fucking hurt. I had burned myself.

A few steps later and I had finished the firewalk. They hosed down my feet and I celebrated. I had made it. Slightly burned, but still. I had just walked on fire for chrissakes. I jumped up and down with my partner and we hugged. I yelled in his ear to ask if he got burned at all. He was like, “Nope – didn’t feel a thing!” He had followed all the instructions, along with probably everyone else. In the end five thousand people walked and nobody was injured.

My foot was mildly on fire (excuse the poor metaphor). I drove home that night and realized that my state probably did affect my experience. I didn’t have any marks on my feet but for the next few days I could feel it. It’s gone now and I’m fine, but I did learn a valuable lesson – my state is important.

That’s probably the most important thing I learned at the seminar. Our states affect our resources. We can snap into certainty and resourcefulness or laughter or empathy in a moment. My state at work affects my performance. And I need to get conscious about what I’m bringing to each situation.

In the end the seminar was life-changing. He really knows his stuff and, if you do the work, you’ll come out stronger than you came in.

Plus, I now have a bar stool story about walking on fire. Sure I got a little burned, but I’ll probably leave that part out.

I’m still wholly unsure.

In fact, I have no idea how this thing is going to turn out, and I’m massively insecure about it. Oh well. I can always go back to stories about falling through glass tables.

My parents were nice enough to come up for Father’s Day. We were also celebrating my birthday which was last Monday. This morning at brunch the music at the restaurant was up a little too loud for my liking. It pierced my ears a bit. Now, I’ve written about how I probably have Sensory Processing Disorder which basically means that I’ve overly sensitive to stimuli. I don’t mind music at breakfast, but this was loud, hip-hop music, and it bugged me. I thought I was going to have to ask our waiter if they could turn down the volume.

Then I noticed in the lyrics they said the f-word a few times. Now, I’m no prude, and a good “fuck” can make for some great art. I use it all the time. But I didn’t want to hear it over orange juice at a trendy restaurant at ten in the morning. And then it hit me…

I can’t block out the music because I can’t control it.

My parents didn’t seem to notice the music. It was loud to me, but registered no impression on them. They didn’t hear the lyrics or mind the techno beats. That aggravated me even more. Sure, I have a little more sensitivity to stuff like this, but surely they were bothered! They weren’t.

Not having control over people, places, or things, I’ve come to realize, is a major issue for me.

At work, I have full control over my job. I’m very lucky. If I want to bring my dog in, I do. If I want to bike in, I do. Should I want to leave early, I can. Nobody tries to change what I do or how I do it.

I also live alone. Everything is within my control, too. I don’t have to deal with a girlfriend, wife, or roommate. Currently I’m single so I spend most of my time by myself. More control.

But when I’m in a situation where I’m not the center of the universe, I freak out.

I met a friend’s parents the other night for dinner. Even though they were perfectly lovely, I wanted to bolt after dinner but had to wait for them to finish their beers. I was uncomfortable even though I had no reason to be. They only had one beer all through dinner, yet I almost couldn’t wait the extra four minutes. Weird.

I was taken to a party recently where I literally only knew my date. There were over eighty people at this gathering. Part of my day-job is that I interview people for positions. I’m used to striking up conversations with strangers. I have no problem going over and talking with anyone.

But at this party I found myself annoyed at everything and everyone (except my date). I was so uncomfortable and rarely struck out on my own. I sat in one spot and just felt out of sorts and angered. I wanted the drunk dude to cease being so loud. I wanted to stop someone from singing karaoke because they sucked. I wanted my date to introduce me to more people. I wanted to be alone when I was eating the food. In short, I wanted to be in control. It’s a lot of “wanteds” that I couldn’t control.

Over the past few months this control thing has made it difficult for me to enjoy being in groups with people. I just want to go home and isolate. Not healthy.

How I got over the hip hop issue this morning is the lesson here. I knew that since I didn’t want to be a dick and ask them to change the volume just for me, I would just have to learn to tolerate it. Could I sit in discomfort and would that ease the discomfort?

Learning how to tolerate that which I don’t like is really tough for controlling personalities like mine.

Here’s what happened. About ten minutes in, the music drifted away and I didn’t notice it anymore. I mean, this was bizarre. I had such a visceral reaction initially. I sat through some tough feelings of wanting to control it, and over time my body acclimated. I actually enjoyed it!

When I let go of my need for control, I experienced relief from discomfort. In essence I need to tolerate that which I don’t like.

So, going forward I’m going to force myself to not run when faced with tough feelings. Not to go off by myself every time. Not to leave the social gatherings. In short, learn how to be out of control. This is a good thing.

When I asked her to describe the pain (or lack of) she wrote, “It was like someone stabbed me in the back and then spun me around on the blade for six hours.” (Hyperbole much, Nicole?) If anything she’s more apt to make a joke of something that tell you how painful it really feels. She was even the hospital for a full day because it was serious.

When she let me know about her ailment I thought there could be something symbolically that would be respectful but also funny to document on the blog.

I would eat her kidney stone.

This idea is not altogether novel. I had consumed my own skin-tag years before for a laugh. You know, now that I’m thinking about it I’ve never grown another skin tag. Maybe my body learned a lesson that day. Don’t screw with me. I’ll tear you off and devour you for spite.

Well, I do have some moles. The idea of playing around with one of those does not appeal to me. Moles are serious business. I get mine checked out per  annum  by a dermatologist. I sort of want him one year to say, “Ooh, let’s rip that one off, post haste – it just winked at me!” Not because I want to be cut open and left with a scar, but to see if it would grow back. I have to admit this is interesting to my mind.

So the idea of showing my readers that I love them so much I’m willing to consume their kidney stone seemed hilarious to me. Now, before you throw up realize that this stone was only 3.5mm in length. You could toss it in my water glass and I’d never even notice. I mean, it’s not like I chew my water. So, from a “yuck!” perspective this really doesn’t chart.

I had this grand idea of filming the consumption and putting it up here. In my crazy head this seemed like a perfectly acceptable plan.

This evening I was talking to a friend about this idea. I could hardly type fast enough about how funny it would be to perform this stunt and video it. I was looking for her opinion and validation. Well, she must have been busy halfway through our conversation because she didn’t respond for several minutes.

During that time I got quiet and something bubbled to the surface. I reread what I had written about eating the stone and noticed how absurd it was. It was a publicity stunt and a poor one at that. As far as being “shocking” I’d have to go a lot further to make the national press. Maybe if I inserted the stone into my body the way that it came… You get the idea.

First, I don’t do “stunts.” This blog is about integrity and honesty. That would be a contrived, “Look at how gross and funny I am!” display. Immediately it became clear that I will not be performing this act. It’s dumb and insincere. I have no true desire to eat a kidney stone.

When she finally came back to the chat window I had already written a, “I am so embarrassed. Can’t believe I wrote all of this. Ignore.”

Now, what it took for me to get to this point was to quiet my brain and go to my feelings. Once I did this the answer was obvious and clear. So, why don’t I use this emotional internal compass more often? First, I suspect I don’t trust it. Instead of believe my body to tell me how much to eat and what foods it prefers, I rigorously plan out my meals and portions. The times I have listened internally I instinctively know when to stop eating. It’s an amazing mechanism that I’ve avoided my whole life.

While this is a silly example – my gut telling me not to fill it with someone else’s calcium, it’s a reminder to get quiet and pay attention.

Now, I actually do have a stunt coming up as I do every year around this time, but it’s fun and in total alignment with my values. I’ll be announcing it in the next few days, and I hope you participate.

Oh, and if you’re a pregnant woman do not make plans to eat the placenta. Nobody likes that person.

photo credit: TedsBlog via photopin cc

Now, I’m in the home stretch with one month to go. I’ve gone without a miss and I’m proud of the work that’s been published. I would have never thought that I would have something to say every day of the year but I guess I did. Not every post was a winner – there’s a probably a dozen or two that I’d like removed. The bad hair days of writing, if you will.

That’s actually not an apt metaphor as I don’t have bad hair days.

I have some big projects for 2013 which include a book of some sorts, launching some silly merchandise, and a podcast. The first one I’m trying to tackle is the podcast. I have a solid idea (I think) that blog readers would find interesting. Currently figuring out some of the engineering and technical skill required to make it work. I’m hoping for the first episode to go live by January 1.

If I had to sum up what I learned this year from all the writing, I would answer with, “Not much.” I learned really only one thing – if you do something you’re not particularly good at, and do it a lot, then you get good at it. Knowing that there wasn’t an option not to come up with a post every day really forced me to learn how to sit at a blank screen and start writing. Unless something goofy happens to me throughout the day (which rarely happens), I’m on the hook for creating something out of the blue.

What I normally do is scrub my current feelings and see if I can find something to relate outwards. This year I dealt a lot with sadness so that was a major theme. Shame, too. Hopefully next year will be more about fear and anger. Those are way more fun to write about.

The other lesson I’ve learned is to give up control. It’s way too hard for me to manage everything. I still try most of the time, but I’ve cut back  immensely. Needing each post to have perfect grammar and syntax is crazy since I don’t even understand comma rules. I still freak out if the site goes down or I don’t get any comments on a post. It happens and trying to stop it is pointless.

Here’s an example – I never check my stats anymore because it either bums me out or makes me feel awesome. I just looked, for a goof. Turns out the last two days traffic was down about 30%. No idea why. I can’t imagine everyone decided I needed to feel like a failure and decided to teach me a lesson. I’m not that important. But it did bum me out just now. I’m not the center of anyone’s life and I’m guessing people just forgot to check out the blog the past two days. Or I accidentally hit publish on that piece I wrote about how it’s okay to punish your wife for her misdeeds by assigning her more housecleaning.

Damn – now that I’m thinking about it, that would have been a hilarious post on its own. Oh well.

I’ll try not to let the content go to shit in the last month. I still need to get my holiday cards out, and if you remember what I did last year, this should again be fun.

Lastly, Aunt Becky from MommyWantsVodka and I are planning a reader party in January if you live nearby Chicago. Should be awesome.

photo credit: AmusingThailand via photopin cc