Suburban Apathy

So I'm a complete retard when it comes to world events.

Living in the suburbs is an interesting affair. Being the awkward middle child between rural and urban, the population in suburbia consists of a lot of wannabe cowboys and people who desperately wish they lived in a city. I can't think of a single person under the age of 40 who would like to live in an area like mine, and for good reason: it kind of sucks.

Basically, living in the suburbs is a lot like living in a bubble. Very few things from the outside world manage to penetrate your bubble, and the little that does come in ends up being severely distorted and confused. After all, us middle class white people have much more important things to worry about than what's going on in the world, like passive-aggressively bitching about our boring lives and going to college because you'll fucking die without a college degree. Therefore, when I discover that things are going a little insane outside of my bubble, it's always fascinating to watch.

This is actually what my world looks like: spherical and soapy.

At the time of this writing, Occupy Wall Street is a huge movement that has spread throughout America and has been in full swing for quite a while now. Personally, I haven't taken much of an interests in the protests, but my friends assured me that they were nothing more than unemployed 20-somethings looking for someone to blame for their poor work ethic, so I promptly forgot about it. Then I came across this.

Apparently, protesters in Oakland had a little altercation with the police. And by altercation, I mean some good old fashioned police brutality.

The following is an excerpt from Washington's Blog:

"You can see Scott Olsen standing, with his BACK TOWARDS THE COPS moments before being shotWatch close- the guy who shot him can be seen backing away from the fence and lowering his shotgun (he musta been less then 5 feet from Scott when he shot him in the head….) he then goes behind two other cops and THROWS THE FLASH BANG himself at the people trying to save them. (the other two cops don’t move, but this guys steps back and then forward just as the flash bang is tossed – other two cops in that section don’t even twitch as the flashbang is tossed)

Same Guy shot him and then tossed the FlashBang at the people trying to save him."

The Scott Olsen in question is a Marine veteran who was present at the Oakland demonstration when a police tear gas canister apparently hit him in the head, fracturing his skull and presumably ruining his day. Moments later, when protesters attempted to aid him, that same officer thought "fuck you guys" and tossed a flash bang grenade into their midst. Keep in mind, he's tossing a flash bang at the guy whose skull has just been fractured.

Here's the video:

Now, I'm not here to bash on the police by any means. I know several men in law enforcement who would probably beat the ever loving shit out of the aforementioned officer for his complete disregard of standard protocol. I'm also not here to bash on the Occupy movement, because I really have no idea if they're simply unemployed hipsters with nothing better to do, or people with legitimate concerns and valid arguments. No, what troubles me is the complete apathy with which I've viewed pretty much anything occurring outside my bubble.

Egypt? Libya? Hell, pretty much anything going on outside of the States has completely gone over my head. I didn't even know who Gaddafi was until I saw Libyan rebels apparently trying to sodomize him with a knife.

Again, my aim here isn't to make any sort of claim about the state of the world today. I can't make any claims like that because...well, I have no Goddamn idea what's going on outside of my bubble.

Also, our president is black. When the fuck did that happen?

Showering is Hard

So a while back, I went on a road trip to Utah with my mom and a french exchange student that my family was hosting over the summer. We arranged it so that we would stay at my great-aunt's house, where we would be provided with some of the best home-cooked food in the world and a free place to sleep in for a few days.

This is Utah. Everyone here is a terrible driver.

One night (I believe it was our second day there), I ventured into the bathroom with the ambitious goal of taking a shower. What ensued was a 15 minute ordeal of failure as my brain struggled to remember how to shower without destroying everything.

I walked into the bathroom, which was a small and cramped little room with the sink and counter positioned right next to the shower. I peeled off my clothing and set my new clothes on the counter so I could dress once I was done. As I stepped into the shower, I experienced that brief panic that everyone encounters when they realize they have no idea how to work another person's shower. Not only were the knobs controlling the water flow completely alien to me, but the shower head was covered in strange revolving bits and pieces whose functions were unknown to me. After fiddling with the knobs for a bit, I finally got the water going, and was about to celebrate when I got punched in the chest.

Apparently, the showerhead had multiple ways of spitting water at me, and the current setting was "small boulders." Every drop of water felt like a little cannon impact on my chest, and I quickly backed away. I succeeded in removing my chest from danger, but by taking a step back I put my groin within water-boulder-range instead. My testicles were instantly pelted with hardened water BB's and I promptly dropped to my knees in agony.

Hahaha! Shower? More like I'M GONNA PUNCH YOU IN THE NUTS, MOTHERFUCKER.



After a bit, I finally recovered and managed to change the showerhead to a more tolerable water output method. I then began the process of washing my hair. After a few minutes, I realized that I had inadvertently washed my hair with body soap and was currently washing my body with shampoo. I switched the bottles and was about to start again when I accidentally ripped off the shower curtain.

While I struggled with the shower curtain, the showerhead rebelled and sprayed water all over the floor and my clothes. I replaced the shower curtain, turned off the water and lamented the thorough ass-beating I had just received at the hands of a surly bathroom. Defeated, I dressed myself in my now-soaked attire and left the bathroom, reeking of shame and fruity shampoo.