Guest Blogger: David Anderson

AN INCIDENT TYPICAL OF MY JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL EXPERIENCE

It was Halloween, 1995. I was fourteen years old, and was about two weeks away from falling deeply in love with Gwen Stefani. That afternoon, however, I was primarily concerned with the skit that I, as a member of the Academic Team, had to present to the panel of judges at the meet against Evergreen Junior High.

It became apparent during our brainstorming session that there was a problem with my voice. A day earlier, it had been high and clear, and I had been able to speak with supreme confidence. And, to the annoyance of my teachers, I had done so at every opportunity, being something of a blabbermouth. In a matter of twenty-four hours, however, my voice had changed, now coming out in an intermittent, nasal squawk.

During the discussion with my four teammates I attempted to disguise the fact by keeping quiet and making exaggerated facial expressions and hand gestures. This worked for about fifteen seconds, after which Annie, whom I was convinced I would someday marry, said "Why aren't you saying anything? What's wrong?"

When your voice changes suddenly overnight, it takes time before you fully gain control over it. I did my best to answer, but my response came out so cracked and strained that I only elicited horrified stares. My face burning with shame, I finally managed to gasp out something about having lost my voice.

Being creative individuals, we managed to plan a skit in which I didn't have any lines. I remember standing at the side, wearing a large blue piece of construction paper with the words "Potable Water" written on it in black magic marker, while my teammates explained their bold new plans for improving water conservation. I felt relieved, more than anything--grateful that I didn't have to hear the sound of my own voice.

Guest Blogger: David Anderson

OK, this is crazy: I just saw an ad for the Air Force Academy, and unfortunately it was a flash animation, so I couldn't copy it and show it here. But here's what it said:

A young woman is seen sitting in a library or classrom, looking over her shoulder at a couple behind her, listening to what they are saying. The caption reads, "Eavesdropping used to get you into trouble." Then the picture cuts to another of the same girl, this time in military uniform in front of some computer screens, I'm assuming that show surveillance equipment, and the caption says, "Now it saves the day." Then the panel changes to show the Air Force logo, and the final caption reads, "We've been waiting for you."

What the crap is that??!!! I'm sorry, but that is wrong in so many ways.

Guest Blogger: David Anderson

Dave: So, on the page where i read your email, there was this ad with a picture of a smile, that said, "Who does this smile belong to? Click for a FREE $50 certificate," and it obviously belonged to Julia Roberts. You know how those things are.
Lisa (reading this conversation later): You didn't click, did you?
Sarah: Dude, you didn't do it, did you?
Dave: And the choices were: Julia Roberts, Nicole Kidman, Halle Berry. So, I obviously clicked on Halle Berry.
Sarah: Dude, one of those people is black.
Dave: Apparently, I won a $50 certificate. So I was wrong, Halle Berry is a white woman.
Sarah: hee hee hee
Dave: Those things are so dumb. I guess they think that people will read it, and go "Ooh! I know the answer! I know the answer!" and not be able to resist clicking, so they get the easiest possible question that everyone will know. But i think they would have more success if they had questions like, "How did Millikan prove Plank's hypothesis of the quantization of atomic spectra to be correct?" Then, people would really want to try to answer it. it wouldn't be so obvious.
Sarah: Dude. You're a geek.
Dave: But then again, they want to prey upon the stupid. So that might mess with their whole business plan.
Sarah: Yes.

Guest Blogger: David Anderson

An Open Letter to Brian McKnight, Singer-Songwriter of "Back at One"

Dear Mr. McKnight,

Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to read this letter. I am sure that with all of your autograph-signing and frolicking in your solid-gold swimming pool, that you have precious few moments to read letters from people such as myself, so I will therefore be brief.

I am writing in regards to your hit song, "Back at One," for which you made millions and millions of dollars. Now, I would never quibble with your lyric intent--as a contented fan says on the Amazon.com website, "Brian Mchknight's Back At One, in my opinion, is one the top five albums of the nineties [sic.]." But I was hoping that you would clarify the meaning of the chorus for me, as I have yet to completely decipher it. It appears that the chorus, at least, follows the standard format of a counting song, in that each line begins with the counted number (one, two, three, four) followed by the step that the narrator intends to follow next.

The first line, "One, you're like a dream come true," I understand to be a simile in which your narrator asserts a kind of metaphysical rightness in regards to his object of affection. And the second line, "Two, just want to be with you" continues this list of feelings that she inspires in the narrator. By the third line, "Three, Girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for me," you have clearly established this pattern--the listener now has the expectation that each number will correspond to a reason, if you will, that the narrator's girl is the only one for him. Now, line four is where I get hung up. In it, you sing. "Four, repeat steps one through three /Make you fall in love with me." It seems here that you are treating lines one through three as if they were steps that one could follow. But if you remember, step one was, "One, you're like a dream come true," which seems to be more a statement of fact then a step which one could follow, indeed, a step that, if followed, would make the girl fall in love with the narrator. Lines two and three only further the confusion. How could one repeat the step "Just want to be with you," or even "Girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for me?"

I'm sure you can imagine my concern upon hearing this in your song. If I, for example, had a girl that I felt was the only one for me, and wished to emulate your narrator's methods in an effort to make said girl fall in love with me, then where would I begin? "Repeat steps one through three," your narrator mockingly tells me, as I vainly attempt to carry out step one, "you're like a dream come true." Certainly you would admit that no girl has ever been made to fall in love with a person for simply "wanting to be with you."

Thank you for your time--if you have any suggestions on how I can resolve this dilemma, I would appreciate it greatly if you could let me know.

A Concerned Listener

Guest Blogger: David Anderson

Entries From the "I Saw U" Section of the Daily Classified Ads

I Saw U - Me: rakishly handsome, with sunglasses and a copy of Neuromancer. You: effortlessly beautiful as you checked out books. When you took my card, our hands touched. If you felt something too, call me at #5815.

I Saw U - Remember me? We were stopped at a stop light, and you looked over at me, and we smiled, I think. Remember? Well, I think we should go out. #8153

I Saw U - You sat next to me in the computer lab. I read your e-mail over your shoulder, and wished that I was on the receiving end. Call me, #2012

I Saw U - You looked so striking as you slept, the wisps of hair falling across your face onto your pillow, limbs outstretched, as if you were reaching for someone. I could be that someone. I'll be waiting for your call, #4332

I Saw U - Yes, Angela, I saw you again, this time as you were painting in your basement. You, thinking you were alone, hummed along with Ace of Base. Your brush traced the penciled forms into greens and browns. I understand your work, Angela. We were meant for each other. #4332

I Saw U - Angela Grusin of 3553 Acorn Way, there's no use trying to deny it. We are soul mates. While you were gone, I went through your movie collection, and I could see that we have the same tastes, Maid in Manhattan, Say Anything, Sleepless in Seattle. These kinds of things aren't coincidence. You know how to reach me, #4332

I Saw U - Angela, allow me recite some poetry for you, that I may woo you with the beauty of my words:
If I could only be a tear
that I might be born in your eye
run down your cheek
and die in your lips
#4332

Guest Blogger: David Anderson

Lipstick

there were two hours until the concert began. marilyn manson sat astride his dressing-room stool, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. he'd already finished his white foundation, and was beginning to outline the black circles of eyeliner around his eyes.

he remembered how at sixteen, when he'd first borrowed his sister's eyeliner, his mother had cried. she hadn't yelled, hadn't told him to take it off, had only looked at him dejectedly before burying her face into her hands, sobbing. forget her, marilyn thought. this is who i am. i don't have to conform to her hypocritical idea of what i should be.

but as he finished the last black ring and lifted the lipstick to his face, he thought, this is the hardest part. he thought of how his mother used to tell her friends proudly how little marilyn was the best science student in the whole sixth-grade class, how he was going to grow up to be a doctor just like his father. that was before his father had left his mother.

the days were a blur now, of orgies and shattered hotel rooms and screaming fans and drugs.

he finished the lipstick and smacked his lips together, as a single tear rolled down his cheek, tracing a crooked path through the white powder on his face.