the try-too-harders

editor's note: so, to no one's surprise, i'm a joke of a blogger. i have a solid debut, follow it up shortly thereafter and then i go awol for almost four weeks. yeah. shocking.

whatever; i've had a few different ideas material-wise lately but was dragging my feet because, well, that's what i do. without further ado here are some shallow thoughts that have been bouncing about my dome lately.

i'm going to avoid the cliched "ask a question" opening sentence and flat out say i'm sure we all know of someone that tries too hard. i'm not talking about the dudes that wear all black, paint their nails the color of darkness, and grease their hair over their eyes in such a way that they have to tilt their head back to see. nor am i referring to portly fellas who fancy themselves as indie types and miraculously squeeze their way into a pair of girls' size-8 jeans (it looks like a division sign). and that oafy white guy from broomall you know who carries a basketball and wears a headband and a lebron jersey everyhwere? not him.

i'm talking about your run-of-the-mill, average joe who doesn't know that his role in the current group is to keep quiet until it's time to laugh. ok, i know that sounds mean. (and before your imagination starts running wild, let me specify that i'm in no way referring to any friends of mine). so let me elaborate more. he's probably new to the group. perhaps a friend of a friend. seems like a really nice guy. decent sense of humor. then he makes a joke. uhhhh, yyyyyyeahhh. great stuff, man. unfortunately, this duster doesn't realize his material is lame so he gives it another shot (where'd you get these jokes from? the toilet store?). at this point, the whole dynamic of the group is in disarray. this guy won't shut up and has left everyone else speechless and dying to be anywhere else.

just when you think this guy is the lowest, out of left field comes the joker who incorrectly thinks he's in a place to make fun of the situation. boy, didn't think this could get more awkward. i was wrong. you know what i mean, though, right? a try-too-harder making fun of another try-too-harder. isn't that similar to black-on-black crime? or is it cannibalism? something? by now, we're lucky if anyone is saying a word within the group. and everyone's trying to find an escape route.

hey, would you look at that? cup's empty; time for a refill.

ruminations on krishna, nostalgia and other miscellany

some of these transitions make sense, some of them don't. no filter, no hooks.

call me irreverent, but i found it funny when i pulled into delaware county christian school for baseball practice the other day listening to george harrison's my sweet lord. for those who are unfamiliar with this tune, most of the song consists of lyrics like this:

Hm, my lord (hare krishna)
My, my, my lord (hare krishna)
Oh hm, my sweet lord (krishna, krishna)
Oh-uuh-uh (hare hare)

speaking of dc, a perfect storm of happenings has me embarrassingly nostalgic lately. listen to the crap that's happened and you'll understand why i can't help but be a sentimental wiener:

1. i've been coaching baseball and hockey around dc for the past year, so i'm on campus and see and talk to old teachers all the time.
2. ted and karen's annual eloping always leads to the woodstock street open house, which opens the door to seeing dc people i rarely see
3. because of his college baseball career, last week marked the first time brett has been home during the school year since we graduated high school.
4. i just found about 100 pictures from the jr/sr at the aquarium.
5. the other day on liz's blog i poked fun at my late high school/early college xanga. then decided to go back and read every exasperatingly candid entry.
   
6. last week buzz gave me four dvds worth of highlights from hockey our senior year. four!

that's just not fair.

switching gears, one of the joys of still living at home is that every night at dinner my mother insists on watching jeopardy and wheel of fortune. you see, in my family we let the tv do the talking for us. occasionally we get lucky and the 700 club is on and the idiot box does the praying for us too! i kid. and digress. anwyho, i've got no beef with jeopardy. it's fun to correctly answer the answers in the form of a question. it's fun to learn. it's most fun to blurt out egregiously incorrect answers in the form of a question. "who is jake kurz?!?" wheel of fortune, however, is near-unwatchable. i swear the people on wheel of fortune are the ones who scored the absolute lowest on the test to get on jeopardy. why are you screaming? why are you clapping like a four year old who just downed nine pixie sticks in six seconds? why are you buying an "a" when the board looks like this:

CATEGORY: PERSON
JES_S CHR_ST

this show makes me dumber.

i mentioned how i see past teachers all the time. as if that's not odd enough at times, many want me to call them by their first names now. is there a more difficult transition in any relationship between two people? i swear it's easier to be friends with an ex than to start calling an old teacher by his first name. "hey, mr houghton errrr, thom!"

yikes.

autonyms and appellations

today an old friend asked me a question i often hear. sort of. there are two sides to it really. it depends on how you know me. here's a not-as-brief-as-originally-expected rundown.

on a glorious monday morning in august of 1986, i came into this world as daniel joshua lacey. since no one wants to say all of that, my parents just called me dj.

i enjoy dj because i find it mildly unique and quick to write. perhaps it has a boyish charm to it as well? you tell me.

the name, however, has its drawbacks. first of all, if someone gets it right when i introduce myself, it's an out-and-out miracle. "tj? pj? zj?" and I feel like my mother screaming on the phone to some foreign bill-collector when i go the, "d as in dog" route. perhaps i should enunciate better? that seems obnoxious.

similarly, my penmanship leaves something to be desired. picture a four year old with crayon in hand. ok, now give him some whiskey. now put that crayon between his toes. point made. so sometimes my d looks like an o. oj. dynamite.

furthermore, it just so happens that i share this name with a character on perhaps the worst television show this side of shot at love with tila tequila. donna jo is not, nor has it ever been remotely humorous. and i like to think i have a good sense of humor with these things. by the way, your disc jockey jokes are as funny as the clap.

honestly, none of this stuff really matters to me. i could have gone on as dj for the rest of my life without issue. but for some reason, when role was being called during my very first college class, i made a split-second decision that i didn't feel like saying "no, not ej" and just said, "dan's fine". so, immaculatans know me as dan.

but the whole thing is so convoluted. at work they call me dangerous dan, but that's a story for another time. how i introduce myself is fully dependent on who i am meeting. if i'm with dj people, i introduce myself as dj. if i'm with dan people, i introduce myself as dan. if i'm by myself i just get confused.

well what does my voicemail say, you ask? oh, you didn't ask. let me tell you anyway. for work purposes it says dan. at one point, this caused a stage-five crisis on the lacey side of my family when i missed a call from my cousin. she told my aunt that it said dan and my aunt freaked out. are you going by dan now?!? what should we call you?!? don't you like dj?!? jiminy crickets, people.

therefore it's something i often hear. whether it's, "you go by dan now?" or "dj? what the fffffff?" the answer is that i honestly have no preference.

so liz, dj works fine. although i believe your mind was already made up.