Right-Belters

Six months ago, my world was shattered. It was a collapse that weakened the very structure of my social identity. It started off innocently enough; I arrived at work and began conversing with my semi-esteemed colleagues about the upcoming day’s events when someone noticed that I and a coworker had dressed eerily similar. This is colloquially known as being “twinsies” and carries with it a petty, but very real, stigma. From what I can tell this stigma stems from the assumption that you and your counterpart are so embarrassingly unoriginal that even given the freedom to clothe yourself, it is still likely you will construct an unofficial dress code using mass produced polos from Old Navy.

At any rate, our coworkers had us stand side by side so that they could more efficiently ridicule us when someone pointed out that my belt was on backwards. This drew an uncomfortable amount of attention to my crotch region and soon there was a chorus of voices asking me why my belt was “snaking right.” I laughed nervously as I slowly realized that I was the only guy in the room whose excess belt length pointed to the right instead of the left. I weakly announced that it was a matter of personal preference which was met with jeers and sarcastic comments such as, “You want to trade that in for a right-handed model?” and “I told you he went to public school!”

Quickly conducting an impromptu survey, I found that every man in the building (regardless of handedness) attached their belt in the same manner as my coworkers and I began to suspect that if word got out of my “waist handicap” I would be ostracized. For the remainder of the day, I was painfully self conscious of the positioning of my “pant girder” and even imagined that other passengers on the elevator were quietly ridiculing me behind my back. I can’t believe that for 28 years I had been living a lie, the revelation was almost as earth-shattering as when I found out that all men do not wear clip-on ties.

I decided to confront my parents about this fashion defect and found that I had always displayed signs of ambidexterity so they had not really discouraged any of my “eccentricities” such as the backwards belt. Crestfallen, I decided to sit my wife down and come clean about my dominant-hand ambiguity. The metaphorical tears fell as I admitted that on some level I had always known that I was bi-handed, and I suspect that if she were honest with herself, she had known it too. We decided that there was no reason to hide my belt preference any longer and that I should wear my pant appendage proudly in whatever direction the Good Lord had made me to wear it. That night I fell asleep with the knowledge that I had discovered the true Brian Taylor, and was pleased to make his acquaintance.

The next morning, after my wife left the house, I found myself alone in the closet with a leather belt in my shaking hands. “Just a taste,” I thought to myself as I threaded the belt to the left just to see how it would feel. The movement was awkward, unnatural even, as the low quality leather encircled my waist and I fastened the clasp. Nothing about it felt right and even the belt seemed to protest, its supple form trained from years of going to the right. “I can’t live like this,” I mumbled under my breath as I unthreaded the belt. Ashamed of my momentary lapse, I quickly repositioned the belt to my default position, gathered my pride, and held my head high as I walked into the office.

Several months have passed and although they no longer verbalize it, I knew my colleagues still saw “right-belters” as second class citizens.  They saw them as fashion anomalies that should be relegated to the dredges of society, just like men who feel that a soiled wife-beater satisfies the requirements of “casual dining.” Every now and then they will joke about finding a newspaper article that indicates “left-belting” is an early warning sign of schizophrenia or dementia. I suffered in solitude as I believed that I was the only one of my kind. I even took to the Internet but was only able to discover a single site that provided a haven for people like me. It was a Facebook group titled “i wear my belt backwards. deal with it,” but after reading a few wall posts it seemed that several of the 35 members believed they were in an adult chat room. Disappointed by the lack of solidarity provided by the web, I resigned myself to facing the stigma alone. However, that all changed when our intern Chris started….

One day as I was enduring another round of belt-related ridicule, Chris revealed that he too was a “right-belter” and was unashamed of his looping preferences. I was enthralled to find someone else who shared my special idiosyncrasy and although I was still outgunned, I was no longer alone. Over the following weeks, Chris and I worked to unmask workplace belt discrimination and perhaps it is only wishful thinking, but I cannot help but feel that the world is a safer place for those brave young men who are not afraid to “go right.”

Chris’s internship eventually ended, and I was left alone to fight the good fight once again. Although I occasionally still hear calls of “Hey Belt Boy!” I am proud to announce that I am a right belted American and I will thread my drawers however I feel lead to do so, regardless of how such an action may be perceived. I encourage all other right-belters to make themselves known and stop living in fear.

 

If at First You Don't Suceed...Take off your pants.

I recently read a story about a unique business operated by Omaha’s Kia Carroll. She was having trouble drumming up clients for her home cleaning service known as “Odd’z and En’z Janitorial” because many felt that $85 was too steep to have someone come to their home and operate a vacuum cleaner. So Kia decided to give her clients some options.

For $250, your maid will clean your home without her top (or bottom) on; toss in an extra $50 and she will sanitize your humble abode in the buff. Ms. Carroll has stated repeatedly that her service is not affiliated with prostitution and insists that she simply wishes to separate herself from her competitors by offering unique services.

Much of the town is beside themselves (for one reason or another) and it appears that Kia is operating in a legal gray area since the employees  are hired maids that happen to be nude and not hired nudes that happen to be maids. Either way, I have no doubt the service will provide some interesting conversations:

Wife: “Terry, why is there a naked woman Swiffering the guest bathroom?”

Husband: *clears throat* “Is she naked? I hadn’t really noticed. I was just having the house cleaned for your birthday….”

Wife: “Really? Because the invoice seems to indicate that you paid extra for the Panties & Pine-Sol special.”

Husband: *begins to panic* “Well, you should just be glad I talked her down from the Scrubbing-Bubbles & Juicy-Doubles high roller package.”

 Wife: “Well maybe she can keep your soon-to-be-acquired studio apartment clean after the divorce.”

The whole concept got me thinking about businesses that should NEVER offer nudity as an enhancement to their existing services:

·         Sears Auto Center – I am not sure that a naked mechanic wielding an under-maintained air-ratchet is worth an extra $50 for a tire rotation. 

·         The Waffle House – Let’s just be honest; you want as many fabric barriers as possible between the wait staff and your BLT.

·         Car Mart – And you thought it was awkward when they accompanied you on the test drive before...

·         Geek Squad – none of these guys turned down modeling contracts to work in IT.

·         Baseball Catchers – One wild pitch + one crouched player = two full years of grief counseling

·         Congress – most of them already have a tough time keeping their pants on as it is. On the plus side, the threat of a filibuster would be twice as effective.

Things You Will Learn In College

Several months ago, a friend asked me to write a short essay about my experience graduating high school. The essay would be part of a larger compilation that was to be presented to graduating seniors that attended our church. In the spirit of that assignment I created the following list.

Things You Will Learn In College

• There will be no greater frustration in your collegiate life than dealing with the school’s business office. Tuition payments will be misallocated, classes will be incorrectly credited, and occasionally you will be mistaken for a Korean exchange student when you request a copy of your transcript. The local community college still owes me $10 and I am more likely to be murdered by a French kangaroo assassin than to see that money again.

• The schedule of class offerings will make it categorically impossible to actually schedule your prerequisites before the classes that they serve as perquisites for. This ensures that you will be taking Introduction to Hungarian Groove Poetry just to maintain the minimum credit hours until the class you actually need is offered again. 

• The college textbook industry is run by organized crime. Every year the book manufacturers will issue a new edition that slightly alters the cover art and ensures that none of you page numbers match the previous year’s syllabus without contributing any new information. Mark my words, every year there will be a new edition of Ancient Mesopotamian Literature to purchase even though we do not annually discover any new ancient Mesopotamian literature. 

•   Cologne / perfume should be used sparingly as a substitute for actually washing your clothes and showering. 

• You will not really decide on your major until at least your third year, so until that time you can divert unwanted inquiries by replying that you are pursuing a doctorate in “Leisure Studies.” If they ask you exactly what comprises “Leisure Studies” you can simply inform them that you have not yet gotten around to that in class.

• It is imperative not to judge others based on their mannerisms or outward appearance. You will be exposed to a dizzying array of philosophies, viewpoints, and personal credos while in college which can be invaluable in shaping new views or cementing old ones.

•   In direct contrast to the preceding rule, never trust anyone with more than one Mickey Mouse tattoo or people who refer to themselves exclusively in the third person as both can be early manifestations of mental illness.

• Don’t assume someone is artsy just because they listen to Radiohead or Snow Patrol, read Shakespearean tragedies, and seem socially withdrawn. They may just be depressed because they are enrolled at their safety school.

• If you live on campus, at some point, you will attend an 8:00 AM class while wearing pajama pants and a free T-Shirt that you received as compensation for attending a youth event.

• Parents tend to frown on terms like “academic probation” and “property damage.” Do your best to ensure that they do not receive any official university communications that contain these phrases.

• When you attend a party, do not forget that both God and Facebook are watching you, but only one of them dispenses grace.

• Hold fast to your optimistic ideologies, their constant infusion into the world inoculates the rest of us against selfish pessimism.

• Your faith will be tested by new opportunities and more elaborate temptations than you have faced before. When you successfully resist temptation: cautious humility. When you succumb to temptation: constructive repentance. When you witness others succumb to temptation: grace and compassion.

The Dead Guy

Many of Hollywood’s most successful thespians have forged a career path based on typecasting. Actor Rupert Everett, for instance, has become synonymous with romantic comedies where he plays an intentional or inadvertent gigolo; Noel Gugliemi has made a career as “Latino Perp #2,” but only one man has been brave enough to base his entire career on being “the dead guy.” That man is none other than Jeffery Dean Morgan.

Mr. Morgan’s first feature film was 1991’s Uncaged, a gritty prostitution-themed drama where he portrays “Sharkey” the psychotic pimp. (Is there any other kind?) Not one to rest on his past successes, Jeffery’s next feature film was 1995’s Undercover Heat; a low budget soft-core porn about a strikingly attractive female police officer that goes undercover at a brothel and “gets more than she bargained for.” (Don’t they all?)

By 1996, Mr. Morgan had made the transition into television and would go on to star in episodes of Walker, Texas Ranger, E.R., The Practice, and JAG before landing the type of role that would make him a household name “that dead guy.” In 2005, he portrayed Judah Botwin in the Showtime series Weeds opposite Mary-Louise Parker. Later that same year, he landed a recurring role as John Winchester on the paranormal thriller Supernatural. Finally, in 2006, he began his run as Denny Duquette on Grey’s Anatomy. What did all of these characters have in common you ask? They were either dead before the show began (Weeds), died during the show’s story line (Supernatural), or they died during the show only to see the absurdity and scope of their character expand posthumously (Grey’s Anatomy.)

Any less of a man would have quickly distanced himself from his newfound reputation for being associated with the deceased, but Jeffery Dean Morgan forged ahead by jumping back into feature films with 2006’s Dead & Breakfast. A gore infused horror comedy of the highest order where he portrayed a grizzled lawman known only as “The Sherriff.”

In 2007 he starred in P.S. I Love You, a film about a guy who dies and arranges to send his widow on an increasingly expensive series of self-discovery tasks which seemed to have been arranged for no other purpose than to ensure that any surplus life insurance money bequeathed to her will be squandered.   

Later that same year he appeared in a mockumentary film called Live! about a network television game show where contestants play Russian Roulette in front of a studio audience for prize money. I believe the premise was meant to illuminate the exaggerated boundaries of modern entertainment but was more akin to an awkward marriage of Hollywood Squares and The Deer Hunter.

In 2009, Mr. Morgan portrayed “The Comedian” in the highly anticipated film adaptation of Watchmen. In true J.D.M. form his character was attacked, beaten, and forcefully thrown to his death from a high-rise apartment before moviegoers had time to open their box of Junior Mints. It may have been his finest performance to date, but to be fair I have not seen Undercover Heat.

So what does the future hold for Mr. Morgan? There is no telling when you have forged a reputation as being worth more dead than alive….