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Breaking Radio Silence

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in not worth publishing. No Comments on Breaking Radio Silence

I don’t have anything to say. I am only awaiting orders for my next assignment, which I know will be a dangerous one.

I have sympathy everything: my brain is not working and I haven’t had an original thought in months — I am not productive I am strictly gestative; I had lower back pain that transformed mid-run last week into the entire right side of my body being seized by one sixdaylong musle spasm; My left eye muscles keep twitchin’. This is known as a Toni Braxton hitch.

The only thing that has been saving me lately is the hippity hop. More specifically, three queens a joker and an ace: Eve, M.I.A., Gwen Stefani, Kool Keith, and Kanye West respectively (some may say Kanye’s more of an ace-hole).

I will let them speak for themselves (one last note: the eve deserves a full-screen viewing. It is quite possibly the prettiest video I have done ever seent.).

the sun looking at me all cockeyed

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in navel gazing, not worth publishing, oh life. No Comments on the sun looking at me all cockeyed

several times already this year I have been gently arrested by the realization that all this cold, this snow, this bitter wind, and lack of leaves and flowers, all of this is thanks to a little teeny tilt of the earth on its axis.

But it’s not the distance from the sun that has us all bundled in fur and wool in the winter and stripped down to our skivvies in the summer like I for a long time thought. That’s only a 2 per cent distance variation from summer to winter after all, which makes for only a 4 per cent change in temperature. The real fweezing/buwning comes not from how far the sun has to travel but how it hits us.

Ya know when you’re out in the garden in July and you suddenly understand that the sun isn’t shining on you but at you and so you slather more SPF 105 over your face and raise your zinc-stained fist and swear the sun your eternal enemy?

Yeah, that’s b/c in the summer the sun is shining down and raining ultraviolet blows about your head and shoulders like Mike Tyson circa ’85. In the winter when we’re tilted away like Ali circa ’63 there are fewer hours of light and that light is hitting us all aslant so less of its punishment is absorbed. Glancing blows rather than a square wallop to the chops.

Being the übercracker that I am, I vastly prefer winter light to summer. That plus my metabolism is evolved from eons of long-cold-winter starvers. With enough fur and wool then I am ready for the winters I was born for. Verily I say unto skadi: bring it.

The Stephen Warrington™ Method of Name Retention

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in junior, not worth publishing. No Comments on The Stephen Warrington™ Method of Name Retention

Here’s one they don’t teach in Dale Carnegie.

I am not just horrible with names, I am abyssmal. Consider, if you will, the following actual encounter (note: this is not the actual encounter. this is a dramatic re-creation):

Mise-en-scène: I miss the first and arrive for the second weekly meeting of the birth class. After a brief lesson in pelvic floor care we are separated into gender-specific groups. I sit down next to two of the other five men who comprise the male half of the six (including Courtney and I) couples in the class. We are all wearing name tags.

Me: So have you guys already met?

2nd guy: Yes, but not officially, we all said our names last time.

Me: (eying his nametag) I’ve got that much on you already.

………

Me: I’m Steve

2nd guy: Hi, Dave (I think it was Dave)

3rd guy: Craig (I think it was Craig)

Another guy sits down.

4th guy: Have you guys already met? (he must have missed the first class too)

Me: We were just talking about that. I’m steve. (I don’t remember his name).

We shake hands: me-guy 4. They shake hands: guy 4-guy 3, guy 4-guy 2. Guy 5 sits down, the name-exchange process is repeated, without the handshakes: me-guy 5,  guy 5-guy 4, guy 5-guy 3, guy 5-guy 2. I don’t remember his name. Guy 6 sits down. His nametag says Roel.

Guy 4: Roel? Is that…

Roel: Dutch.

I have forgotten all four of the other men’s names already, but I will never forget Roel’s. Not because he’s dutch, not because he was wearing the brightest pinkest shirt I have ever seen on a man, not because he designs software, but because he wasn’t just one more dave or craig or steve.

When I meet someone for the first time, I am thinking a hundred other things besides their name. In fact, the name is probably the least important of all of the wash of particularities that flow from one person to another in a first encounter. Are they a threat, are they attractive, are they intelligent, are they deceptive, are they warm, do they have style, etc etc etc.

But Roel! Tall, blonde, pink-shirted Dutch Roel. All I can think to ask him is if he has seen “The Limey”, with it’s Luis Guzmán Eduardo Roel character. He hasn’t of course, being Dutch, so I don’t. Even more, why do I remember the name of a supporting character in a movie I saw three years ago? I will tell you why: because it’s a super sticky name.

Courtney and I are in the midst of choosing a name for the boy that will be delivered in January. This is no small task. It is, in fact, an awesome responsibility, and as such has me tripping over every name I like to think I like. But this I learned last night with the guys: whatever it is, it better be sticky.

I pretty much every time joke when someone asks what we’ll name him: Ichabod. Cleetus. Malachi. Pervis. Etc. But what’s not funny about those names is that I guaraneffingtee you you would remember Cleetus’ name when you met him. You might laugh about it later, but you would never forget.

Auto-Horn-Tooting Put to Auto-Challenge

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in not worth publishing, oh life. No Comments on Auto-Horn-Tooting Put to Auto-Challenge

If I were in tenth grade and my English teacher said we were all under too much pressure and so instead of doing work today we were going to sit in a circle and talk about our feelings and she started off with an exercise where we had to complete the sentence “if you knew me well you would know that I…” I would finish the sentence by saying “you would know that when I want to find something I find it.”

Cases in point: When I got to the beach in Washington I said I want to find a whole sand dollar. And I did! A whole bunch of ’em. And when I was walking behind a tennis club in Vermont on Saturday I said I want to find a tennis ball and guess what! I found two! I could come up with dozens more (or at least one) of this kind of story, but I am modest man, mindful of his audience and its need to rush on to the next big thing so I will limit myself to these two.

But now, a challenge to my preening, a one in one hundred million needle in a haystack if the haystack were the sea and the needle were an albino lobster challenge, I WANT TO FIND AN ALBINO LOBSTER!!

don't f**k with whitey!
don't f**k with whitey!

stephen warrington model

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in confessions, money, not worth publishing. No Comments on stephen warrington model

Many of you do not know that I double (treble even) as a model. that’s right I don’t rock this six-pack just for my health, friends. I put this bad boy to work!

If you’d like to see many poses of me in my superman briefs and other sexy accoutrement, you need only visit this feature on me over at Favorite Hunks.  What. Do I look like I’m joking?

We’re Only In It For the Ladies

Written by steve warrington on . Posted in not worth publishing, oh life. No Comments on We’re Only In It For the Ladies

It’s pretty clear after the last week that among all of the couples I know,which admittedly is a godawfully small sample,  we’re really all only in it, men and women alike, for the women. Not to say that we men are total crap, but I think the consensus among us guys would be Yeah, we’re okay. But these women, my god!

Ancient wisdom handed down through the generations proclaims that it shall always be that one individual in a couple is favored by all over the other.  I am here to say that sadly this is true. And it ain’t the guy. Women are every time more interesting, more beautiful, more well-adjusted, more articulate, more energetic, more charming…

What has this world done to us men to make us so… awkward? And what would we do without our women to make sure that we maintain social ties? I know what you’re thinking. That the women like the men better and all is right and balanced in the end. But I don’t see it. No, the women are saved by one another. They are living a life of enlightenment and spirit thanks only to themselves, and they are only humoring us so that they can have their babies. It’s a wonder, given all this humor, that serious coitus is ever achieved and we manage to reproduce as a species at all.

So I say unto you, brothers, comrades, fellow ghosts in comparison, the next time you are together with both your woman and your friends look around you. You too will see it. We are outgunned. Outperformed. Outsmarted. Outdone. Outmanned. Know that this is true. Feel your fortune swell by her side. We have married up my friends, and we have done well.  And never forget, you men, that we may not look as good standing next to her, but we live a life we never could have earned on our own. For as a sage and married man once told me, it is always better to be lucky than to be better.