the legend of Silver Surfer

now this story may not mean much to you if you don't have the right sense of humor, so all of you who don't like to laugh at just about anything bear with me for a moment or ignore the rest of this story.

back in the day there was a new kid in town at Gulf Breeze High School. he had bleached blond hair, and the first day at school he showed up in a silver jacket. the second day he showed up... in the same silver jacket. in fact, from what i've been told, he wore that freaking silver jacket every freaking day and therefore became known as the Silver Surfer. ironically, he didn't even surf. it was his California-esque poorly dyed locks that coined the later half of his name.

Silver Surfer has travelled all the way from Florida to our very own Venice Beach California. how do i know this, dare you ask? well, believe it or not, he lives about 5 blocks away from me next door to Katie and went to high school with Nikki. small world...

my favorite part about Silver Surfer is that when ever any of Nikki's friends from Florida are in town she'll ask them, "hey do you remember (insert real name here not to be disclosed for protection purposes)?" and no matter who it is - guy, girl, gay, straight, drunk, stoned - the response is always unanimous. "you mean Silver Surfer?" it kills me.

what's also great is that poor Silver Surfer has been "outed" in every aspect of his post-high school career. one time our friend Jerry was visiting Silver Surfer's frat and one of his fraternity brothers asks Jerry, "hey, do you know (insert nickname Silver Surfer gave himself so that no one would ever feel the need to call him Silver Surfer again)?" stumped, Jerry sadly admitted he had no idea who the kid was talking about. but the kid was 99.9% sure that Jerry knew who he was talking about. "you know," the kid urged. "(insert real name here again not to be disclosed for protection purposes)" at this point Jerry is dying. "you mean SILVER SURFER?!!" Jerry proceeds to explain to Silver Surfer's frat brother how in high school every one called him Silver Surfer because he wore the same silver jacket every day and had the awful bleached surfer-esque hair. from that point forward, Silver Surfer's frat brothers called him by his rightful name: Silver Surfer.

a few months ago we were at The Whaler and we ran into one of Silver Surfer's current roommates. Nikki is a little lit and proceeds to inform him of the origin of the name Silver Surfer. just doing her job, kids. don't feel bad for poor Silver Surfer. it's partly his fault for trying to deny his heritage. embrace who you are no matter what. that's the one thing i've learned about my life because of Silver Surfer.

Thank you. Thank you, Silver Surfer for showing me the way.

my own worst enemy

it's the simple things in life that keep me going on a day to day basis. iced lattes, The Office, myspace, and LL Cool J (not really) to name a few. among my favorites has always been the bubble bath, not only because i find the word "bubble" completely intriguing in itself, but who doesn't like a little r&r in a hot, sudsy tub of water?

today my bath unexpectedly took a turn for the worse as it dawned on me that i was sitting in a pool of my own dirt (among other things i can only presume). but it's not like i've never taken a bath before. these things should have crossed my mind years ago. so why the sudden insight? no se. maybe it was because i was reading Sedaris, and Sedaris always puts me in a (wonderfully) cynical mood. maybe i've been protecting myself; subconsciously i knew that if i ever even began to think of all the unsanitary things that a bubble bath actually is my frothy times would immediately cease. if that is the case, my subconscious was right.

though i can't tell you why these thoughts began entering my mind i can tell you they hit me like a ton of bricks. i began to panic. i'm no germaphobe, but i definitely have hygienic instincts. i can deal with clutter (hence the current state of my room) but not dirty dishes in the sink. visions of me drowning in my own polluted bathwater began flooding my head. the tiled bathrooms walls were closing in on me. only one thing was clear: there was no way out.

until i sat up.

let's take a step back. soaking in your own dead skin cells is unquestionably disgusting, but look on the bright side - at least they're your dead skin cells (unless you're sharing your bath time, but that's your conscious choice). who knows how many people's hangnails were floating around in the last swimming pool you jumped into? or how many people's pee you've splashed at your friends in the ocean? don't even get me started... i began weighing the pros and cons and the beginning stages of a panic attack quickly dissipated. i had riled myself up for no reason.

in conclusion, i've determined that the bubble bath is still on my simple pleasures list. so long as you take them at face value, it should still be on yours, too. once you can accept the fact that you are not in the tub to become clean, but simply for relaxation purposes your mind will once again be at ease.

c'est la bubbles.