Trend-setter

You know how I'm super handsome and typically have excellent taste in clothing? You know how it seems like my fashion sense is always one step ahead of yours (*cough* Shoa *cough*)? You might assume that I just read GQ and rip off their ideas, but I'm all original you smug jerk.

Guess what you're wearing right now? Sweat pants and a torn t-shirt. I bet it's not even your t-shirt. It's probably your boyfriend's disgusting gym shirt that he threw in the hamper, but you desperately dug it out and wore it because you haven't done laundry in 3 weeks.

You know what I'm wearing? Mother. Fucking. Cuff links.

That's right. I'll give you a moment to absorb that tasty fashion nugget. Dress shirt from the Donald Trump collection with silver cufflinks. I won't even bother describing the rest of my outfit, because your tears might stain your boyfriends rank t-shirt.

I'm perched in a little indie coffee shop in Mukilteo, gazing down over a clouded Puget Sound, sipping my Americano from an oversized red mug, and rocking a professional outfit that makes all the little high shcool ladies stare (can they even spell "statutory"?). Here's a picture that I took while eye-flirting with your mom from across the café:

In fact, I've just been inspired with an amazing new idea for a coffee shop here in Seattle: "The Fashionista Barista"! All my baristas will wear insane couture while I sit in a raised booth with a monocle and judge my customers.

Age before beauty

Several of my new friends at Boeing are a bit younger than me. To be perfectly honest, the majority of them are summer interns and barely 21. Whereas I am turning the corner to 27 this upcoming July. Apparently I don't look my age, because I've gotten a lot of questions from people asking me one of the following three questions:

1. Am I still in college?
2. Is this my first job?
3. Have I hit puberty yet?

Of course, the answer to all of these questions is a resounding "NO!"

So this past weekend, I was hanging out with Sean and Sammy when we got word of a house party in downtown Seattle. Feeling that the night was young, we sprang into action and drove over there. Once inside, it became apparent that I was the oldest person in the room.

A really drunk, petite asian girl (let's assign her a fake Americanized name like "Susan") stumbled up to me.

Susan: Wait. Who are you?
Me: I'm Connor.

Susan: Are you an intern?

Me: No, I was recently hired as a full-time employee.

Susan: Seriously? How old are you? You're lying to me.

Me: I thought your kind was known for respecting their elders?

I'm so good at saying the right thing.

Polite conversation

I had my Boeing "new hire" orientation today. Being a social butterfly, I immediately got acquainted with the young people at my table. There's me, Sean, a girl named Sammy, and another girl named Meghan (who will work in the same group as me). I was excited, because I'm trying very hard to establish a new set of friends that you might find on a sitcom. Classic shows like Seinfeld or Friends always have a balance of men and women.

Sean: Hey, we should all meet up tonight and get drinks.
Sammy: Yeah, that sounds like fun!
Me: Count me in.

(Sammy stands up and leans forward to collect her papers. I accidentally do a quick boob stare, which I typically try very hard to avoid. I look down abruptly as Sammy catches my gaze at the last second.)

Internal Monologue: Oh shit! She just saw you staring at her chest. Wait... calm down. Maybe she didn't. Is she glaring?

(Quick glance upwards. Sammy is glaring. Glance away again.)

Internal Monologue: She DID see me! I gotta salvage this or else I'm going to lose my new friends. Say something to break the tension!! QUICKLY!!!
Connor: Nice set of cannons, Sammy.
(Collective gasps at the table.)
Internal Monologue: Nice recovery.

Missed Connections

I have a theory about people that I play phone tag with. You know what I mean: you call someone but they don't pick up, then they call back but your phone was on silent, and then you call them a second time but they were in the bathroom, and then they call you back yet again except you're disposing of the drifter's corpse in the river. It's just those little incidents that get in the way of you two actually making a connection.

My theory is this: these are people who are just like you, except slightly out of sync. Don't give up on the game of phone tag, because you could be missing out on your soul mate or a new best friend! An ignorant person (probably named something ridiculous like Zeke) might say "you two just aren't on the same wavelength". This is wrong, and you should not talk to Zeke ever again, because I hate him. You are on the SAME wavelength, you're just off-shifted from each other by 5 minutes. Get yourself in sync, and you are guaranteed a new friend who can replace that idiot Zeke.

Case in point: my new boss. His name is Eli Fluke. First off, let's just reflect on how that's kind of an awesome name. If he were a character in a movie, he would be the lead male role (or perhaps a very strong secondary character that has lots of screen time).

Eli sent an email asking me to give him a call. I called him today at 2:18, but he wasn't in the office so I left a voicemail. Then he called me at 2:33, but I was getting a haircut and put my phone on silent. I called Eli back at 2:58, but had to leave another message. Then he called me at 3:02, but I didn't hear it because my phone was still on silent. I got his voicemail once again at 3:06. Finally I called him again at 3:38 and we had a conversation.

I am excited to meet Eli Fluke, because I feel like we finally got on the same page and now we can become best friends. I'm going to give him a hug when I meet him tomorrow, because first impressions are important.

A Crisis of Faith

I've just realized that I may have awful music taste. I can't be sure; I'm wracked with doubt and paralyzed with indecision. A while back, Amazon had a promotion where they offered a few mp3s as free downloads. One of them was Mike Snow's "Animal" which I downloaded, listened to, and then decided to delete because I didn't much care for it.

Fast forward a month to last night (shit just got real, blogger buddies). I was getting caught up on "Cougar Town" which is a cinematic masterpiece, crafted by the greatest American minds in the industry. Anyways, during the episode "Turn This Car Around" there was a song playing in the background that I found alluring. I hunted the interwebs for the song lyrics so I could download it.

Lo and behold, it was that same Mike Snow song. So basically, depending on the context when I hear the song, I may love or hate the EXACT same song! This is forcing me to re-evaluate my entire music selection. I mean, what if all those Paris Hilton songs AREN'T good? What if I only THINK they're good because I was having fun when I heard them the first time?

Wait, no. I need to snap out of this. If I start doubting Paris Hilton, "America's Sweetheart", then what is there left to depend on in this crazy, mixed-up world? I'm sorry Paris. It was a moment of weakness. Please forgive me.

Attitude (and icon) changes

A new chapter of my life is about to begin. I was a caterpillar, and soon I will be a butterfly! Actually, I'm terrified of butterflies (seriously), so maybe I'm a moth. Not a gross moth that eats your sweaters. A beautiful and mysterious one that soars courageously into the dark night like... Like Batman.

I feel like we're getting too hung up on this "caterpillar" metaphor.

Basically, I need something to symbolize my rebirth. And what's more perfect than a new blog icon?! (That's a rhetorical question, btw, so please don't leave comments informing me what's actually better.) Before I was an evil red robot:

But now I'm a friendly red robot! Well, I guess his expression is more "apathetic". Perhaps he's pensive? It's kind of tough to read robot emotions. That's why they tend to just scream out exactly how they're feeling, e.g. "MASTER, I HAVE GAINED THE ABILITY TO LOVE."

Happy Birthday, coherent light

Today is the 50th anniversary of the patent of the laser. They've given us so much, that I think we need to take the time to reflect on all that lasers have accomplished. What have you accomplished in your life? Probably not as much as lasers. Lasers aren't even sentient. I mean, they're just light amplification through the stimulated emission of radiation. I hope this list motivates you, blog reader, to get your flippin' life in order. I want to write a blog post on your 50th birthday and actually have some accomplishments to describe other than "Farted alphabet."

1. Laser hair removal. How else do you think I got rid of my masculine uni-brow and unsightly nipple hair?
2. CD players. Nothing says "commitment" or celebrates an anniversary with your lady like a mix CD. You're welcome, female gender.
3. Laser blasters. Pew, pew!
4. Laser pointers. Back in the stone age, people would have to point to things on chalkboards with long wooden sticks. They were called "analog laser pointers" strangely enough.
5. Laser cats, which were bred to fight back the inevitable Chinese invasion forces. Look at this classified U.S. military photo of Unit 34 ("Prototype Feline Laser, American Shorthair") during target calibration with Unit 35 ("Snowflake").

By the way, you might be expecting an explanation for the three month hiatus.

I bet you are.

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