Fuck boutonnieres

Oh early fall. The chill in the air, the High School football, the early days of the school year where things are still fresh and new and hearts are atwitter. It can only mean one thing...homecoming season. Having a sister who is a soph in HS, it has managed to make its way back in discussions I have with my family. Homecoming, the magical week of school spirit culminating in a dance where young bucks looking to hone their social skills can essentially ask out girls they otherwise wouldn't know how to. Show evidence of their interest while cautiously testing the temperature of the girl's reaction to their affection under the guise of a harmless dance.

Well, unfortunately, this grand tradition is a source of perma-shame and embarrassment whenever I make the mistake of calling upon my memories. Contrary to what my swagger and smoldering looks ripped from the pages of a GQ may convey, I was not always such the Don Juan. I had this false ideal in my head that any of the male-female shortcomings I endured in middle school would vanish in this vast new frontier that was HS. We had 2 middle schools that merged into one HS which basically afforded me a whole school of people who had no clue what a tremendous mullet-wearing fail I was in middle school. My longing for attention from the fair sex would finally be ended...

...or not. I approached the Homecoming season with unbridled enthusiasm. I eagerly started conversations with my friends and Cross Country teammates about potential dates, and pre-dance restaurants, and the street cred said dates would bring. I was positively stoked. Little did I know this time of year would frame my biggest fails.

Without further ado, the first of my 3 epic homecoming fails.I carefully picked out the lucky girl who was going to have the privilege of joining me on my first foray into the dating world, Samantha (Sam) R. She was the top runner on the girls CC team, adorable, and just an overall sweet girl. I couldn't think of a more perfect date. We had talked a bit at races and such, and I thought I could be in a decent spot. I had my good friend CJ, who was also a CC guy with me and also one of her good friends from middle school, to diplomatically talk to her on my behalf. Gauge my chances a bit. "No problem," he assures me.

The next day, he informs me that I am "good". I take this as a sign and immediately feel my confidence swell. I plot my next move. Now in those days, I lived for just seeing and saying hello to girls I liked. Yeah, how fucking weak is that. I would plan my walks to class, sometimes talking extra long, meandering routes just to pass a [articular hunny and hopefully catch her eye and get a greeting. Thus, I had figured out the perfect time when I passed Sam in a fairly empty hallway on my way to Bio. I already was looking forward to smugly informing my parents that not only did I have a date to HC, she was one of the top 10 CC runners in the state, booyah. So, without fear, as I approached her, I stopped her and hurriedly vomited out my impassioned plea:

J: "HeySamIknowCJtalkedtoyouaboutit, soIwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotoHomecomingwithme?"
*Yes, there was no breath and I can scarcely believe she understood what I even said.*
S: "Aww, thanks. But sorry, I am already going with someone. Sorry, Jason"

What...the...fuck! I wanted to eviscerate CJ. I'm good? Did he mean, I'm good in the sense that she knew who I was? Cause certainly having a date doesn't mean I'm good. And did she fucking call me Jason? Do I look like the leader of the Argonauts? She doesn't even know my real name? To make matters worse, in my frustrated confusion, I decided to kick the wall. In doing so, I managed to bruise my toe allowing me the honor of walking with a limp the rest of the day and sitting out of practice that afternoon. It would have been less embarrassing to just tell my coach I couldn't run cause I forgot my tampons.

Side note: Sam and I ended up being pretty good friends and she managed to tease me about this particular incident until graduation. You can't escape your past.

Well, deluded into thinking that the only reason I didn't have a date yet was because Sam already was spoken for, I readjusted my focus and figured I would still have no problems. So I zero'd in on another CC runner, this one whom I had talked to a TON, sat next to on bus rides to meets, and had a class with. Greylen wasn't my uber crush, but nonetheless, I would be really excited to go to HC with her. So on one of our typical walks after class, I nonchalantly popped the question and prepared for a positive response. She kind of stuttered for a second as I sat with a grin looking like the cat that ate the canary. "Umm, let me think about it for a bit"...oh shit. I quickly stated that it wasn't a problem and nearly sprinted away. My mind began to swirl

"This isn't good, if she wanted to go, she would have said yes."
'Maybe she just has another offer, and she needs to let the other fool down softly."
"Oh fuck, maybe she needs to think of a way to deny me and not be bitchy..."
"Maybe she just really likes me and is stunned so it has to set in! Yes, thats it, has to be it."

I twisted myself up mentally so intensely that next period I was as confident as ever. My friend Teddy asked me if I had a date to HC. "Oh yeah, I'm going with Greylen. It should be awesome," I quickly replied. What could go wrong?

Well I went to lunch next period and mildly dreaded the next point in which I would see her. Well after lunch, walking to class, my destiny called. She was walking behind me with her friends and as I turned down a hall, she called my name.

G:"Hey"
J: *with look of complete terror*"Whats up"
G:"I just don't feel I know you well enough to go to HC with you. Sorry..."

With that she quickly rejoined her friends. I promptly began looking for a garbage can cause little miss had punched me in the stomach and I felt like I was going to hurl. And it only got better the next day when Teddy asked me what was up cause he talked to her and she said she wasn't going HC with me...oh FML. With that I gave up on freshman HC and continued to perpetuate the lie to my parents that I just wasn't that into girls really.

Well the next two years, buttressed by my humiliation of freshman year, my fear of rejection pervaded everything. Oh I would still ask hot girls to HC, I just would be a tremendous pansy about it. Sophmore year, Ali, wow. This girl was and still is stunning. My memories of her at 15-16 is still the most gorgeous girl I've ever known at any point in my life. And I still had the stones to ask her to HC...via note. Oh yes, I gave her a note asking if she wanted to go to HC...which I put in her locker. There was no MTV Laguna Beach cute theatrics with a teddy bear holding it or any of that nonsense. I just slipped a note in her fucking locker. How I possibly could have envisioned this situation turning out well, I have no damn idea. Well, I wasn't the least bit surprised when she called later that night and thanked me, but no thanks. I mean, kudos to her for at least having the dignity to call, and not do something lame...like give me a note. Fortunately, she didn't go on to make my life a living hell like some teen movie, we actually were cool throughout the end of HS, but sweet lord, I had trouble looking her in the eye, and they were such pretty eyes too.

So junior year rolls along, and my confidence is melting like an iceberg. More like I was a polar bear stranded on one of said icebergs as it broke with teenage normalcy and floated off towards a vast sea populated by Dungeon and Dragon aficionados and those who wore "Im with Stupid" shirts. However, I had one last gasp in me. Hallie. This was my quintessential childhood crush. I had a solid, unwavering crush on this vixen from 4th grade straight through 8th grade. I'm talking "drawing initials in frost and quickly erasing them out of embarrassment" and "saying her name with my last name just to see how it sounds on a daily basis" level of infatuation. However, it waned a bit as I was a year older and when I went to HS, I got caught up in other stuff. Yet, it came roaring back after she had been in HS for a bit and we had hung out in groups like the golden years. So HC came around and I decided it was time to act on all those years of adoration and just ask her...by giving her a note. See a theme here?

This time, I decided to sink even lower. I crafted a cute and clever note with an all too familiar punchline...and gave it to my friend...to give to her...and this friend also happened to be her ex-bf from last year. I mean, kudos to him for being a good friend and helping me out. Even more kudos when he said "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, are you sure you want to do it like this?" with concern, and hope I was kidding, in his eyes. I assured him I totally was and again I committed to an embarrassing legacy of pussification.

A group of us all went to dinner later that week and towards the end, my dearest angel pulled me aside into the hallway and sat me down. As she sweetly and kindly explained that I was a close friend but she was gonna have to say no, I began to feel like Lennie right as George was about to shoot him in the back of the head. The kiss on the cheek sealed my hatred for Homecoming for all time and taste in my mouth I would be brushing my teeth for years to rid myself of.

My sisters are both really pretty young girls and I have no doubt they will probably the girls who will be mentally scarring all these awkward young giraffes as they comically try to walk into adulthood. Especially the youngest, she has a mean streak and I could see her leading a merry band of dream wreckers that gain considerable strength around this time of the year. I weep at the thought of every freshman boy that is not already a ladykiller. Hopefully I will be able to arm my future sons with an arsenal of weaponry to avoid such humiliation, that my wounds are still fresh enough that my advice is useful and not all goofy fatherly awkwardness. Who wants a damn corsage anyways?

So Howie Day was my JAM in High School. I still listen to She Says, and More You Understand, and Morning After all the time. Then his second CD came out when I was a freshman, everyone got obsessed with Collide, and I thought he was about to explode. Well he kind of did. He got wasted on a plane and was kicking seats and got arrested. Ended up in rehab where I'm pretty sure he hooked up with Britney Spears if I recall. So, maybe he had the right plan all along. But he is back. And I am supremely glad cause in his "prime" his talent was undeniable. I saw him live and he was ridiculous. His use of looped guitar riffs, looped vocals, creating this insane melodies, he is awesome. At a time when all those "guys with guitars" were getting popular, I latched onto him cause he was unique and just had a different approach to it all. His new CD is hopefully evidence that he is back in the saddle and is ready to continue saucily seducing my ear drums. Be There is the first single and its a good place to start. Pretty cool video too. Enjoy it while reminiscing about how lame HS was...or if it was awesome for you...I hate you.

"If you're gonna be there, be there. If you're gonna stay, then stay tonight. Start living, out with the old. I'm all lit up, must be the good life..."

JW

I do...well, maybe not yet

So this past weekend, I was out in Boston for my cousin's wedding. It was definitely an interesting, non-typical wedding for sure. Most weddings don't take place at a 300 year old house that also serves at a youth hostel. Most weddings don't have barbecue ribs as the main dinner course. Most weddings don't take place somewhere with no TVs. NO TVs! I saw none of the Michigan-ND or OSU-USC games. It was excruciating crouching in the corner trying to get a signal attempting to furiously text Google for score updates like Gollum worshiping the ring. All that being said, I had a blast. A few reasons come to mind.

First of all, weddings are just naturally predisposed to fun. Ample booze? Check. People drinking said booze that normally don't drink? Check. Music and people making asses of themselves on the dancefloor, convinced by the chardonnay that they are Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers? Check. And its just an inherently positive and upbeat event. Its just set up for a good time, you know something interesting is going to happen, like when you see that drunk girl in stilettos tottering down an icy sidewalk.

Drinking with relatives. This is something you don't really grasp until you are of drinking age. That uncle you always thought was kind of cool? He really has a wicked sense of humor that he was never relaxed enough to unleash cause he had to be all mature for his nieces and nephews, or some similar constraint ridiculously put on him by others. Really, you have not lived until you see your Grandparents drinking out of Das Boot. Yes, you read that right. A boot appeared and was being passed around and my Grandparents, both 80+, hit that shit like Floyd Mayweather. I was a bit misty-eyed. I was soo stunned I scarcely realized that both my parents were getting their sip on as well. Including my mother who hasn't drank a beer since Prince was on Apollonia. This also marked the first time I've truly been "feeling no pain" around my parents. I realized this with a sinking horror as I was drunkenly eating a bagel like an idiot at the hotel and listening to myself speak. The next morning my little sisters were questioning about my inebriated state last night. I kindly informed them that they were tripping and I was merely tired and hungry. Oh my, I'll miss when they aren't so easily mentally redirected. I actually cut myself off after I was beckoned to the dance floor by my cousin who asked to me teach them the Soulja Boy cause I'm a good dancer. However, I proceeded to execute an aborted version of the Dirty Bird. I then shamefully exited the dance floor cause I realized I was too drunk to execute a dance created by a 16 year old with the lyrical prowess of Sloth from the Goonies. I wanted to go back to Saturday and punch myself in the face.

Finally, weddings help me put my life into focus. As I caterwal haphazardly through my early 20s, I find myself examining my maturity and how I wish I was this and that, but yet I'm not really sure. Do I want a significant relationship or do I want to continue being a self-sufficient sort of fellow? Well examining weddings, I do like somethings. I mean, come on, I love being the center of attention, and there is no grander stage than being the groom in a wedding. Well besides your pesky bride. Plus there is an exquisite amount of control into making it your ideal day. Sweetness right? Then I am quickly drenched in the realization that no matter how much I have grown since college and how much more mature I may or not be, I am NOWHERE near ready to be joined in everlasting marital bliss. The thought of it all is staggering to me. Like when you are a kid and everything in the future seems so daunting, like high school, and driving, and not wetting the bed? Like that. But I am comfortable enough with myself to realize that like all the things I mentioned, this will come in time and I am perfectly content to wait. No need to hurry growth, right Peter Pan my friend and role model?

PS, if you have never had strawberry rhubarb pie, you need to have it immediately or hereby surrender your sense of taste cause you depriving yourself of heaven. And if you have had it and don't like it, go eat something you do like, probably brussel sprouts or vinegar ice cream...weirdos.

So Hip-Hop decided to save my musical life yet again recently. As I found myself being bored with some of the music in my life, Kid Cudi and Jay-Z dropped their new discs. Hova's Blueprint 3 is predictably amazing with tight rhymes and sick beats. You really need to get all up in that. Empire State of Mind with Alicia Keys is just ridiculous and Off That has one of those undeniably Timbaland beats. That's a good start. But more importantly, Kid Cudi. This dude just kills his first disc. He has the Lupe feel to him and he is just a lyrical badass. I mean, Day and Night was a catch ass track, but this CD is just brilliant. Its indie, electronica, and hip-hop somehow blended into one. Soundtrack 2 My Life is one of the most honest, raw songs I've heard in ages. Its got a Matisyahu-like feel to the chorus. This is how you open up a CD? Just ballsy and exactly how you show you're about to throw down a nasty album. Up, Up, and Away is just amazing (would have been my summer jam if it dropped a bit earlier) and Pursuit of Happiness is creative as hell. So do yourself a favor and spin both of these while eating strawberry rhubarb pie and silently thank me for creating you a sensory utopia.

"I got 99 problems and they all bitches..."

JW