T.I. put it very elegantly but I think he may have had something different in mind then what’s going on in my world right now.

I obtained a girls number (through surprisingly little trickery) on Saturday night and adhering to the two day rule, have waited until today to call her and invite her to join me in a meal.

During these two days, I always look at arbitrary events in my life as telltale signs of how the phone call is going to go.

If I get stuck trying to turn right at a red light behind a car going straight, the universe is telling me “Dude, don’t even call.”

If I successfully throw my Wendy’s wrapper into a trashcan across the room then there’s no way she’s not calling back.

You get the drift?

Two things happened in those two days that I’m not sure how to read. So since you’re the one reading this post, I figured I’d let you read the signs as well:

1. My friend’s car broke down (severe battery drain) after using it as a stereo for tailgating purposes before the UNC vs. ECU football game. He had to be at work in Charlotte today so I let him have my car for two weeks (when I next see him).

Yes, we tried jumping it. No, it didn’t work.

2. My phone echoes for whomever I’m talking to (I hear nothing). It horribly irritates everyone on the phone with me. Since I don’t hear an echo and like to hear the sound of my own voice anyway and can’t understand their complaint, it’s taken me 6 months to address the issue.

Because I was supposed to call this girl today however (and my mom yells at me to fix it every time I talk to her), I decided to suck it up and go to AT&T this afternoon and get it fixed.

Take a second here and analyze these two events. Seems to me like I should have some pretty good karma going into the call.

………………………….

Did you take a second?

………………………….

Really?

………………………….

Good.

AT&T gave me a new SIM card in hopes that it will fix the echoing problem. So I came home, inserted the new SIM card, and hooked up miPhone to my computer to activate it.

No, I didn’t lose all my contacts though I like where your head’s at. I had the same thought and copied down her number before syncing to avoid just that travesty.

Instead, I’m sitting here staring at an AT&T Account Information page demanding that I insert the last four digits of the social security number of the primary account holder.

I am not the primary account holder. My family is on a family plan. My mom is the primary account holder. I do not know her SSN.

In order to get that information, I need to call my mom and ask her.

I cannot do that because my phone has been re-set.

All of my roommates are gone so I can’t borrow one of their phones.

I cannot go anywhere to find a phone because my car is in Charlotte with my friend.

So I turn to you readers and ask you this…

Does the universe want me to call this girl?

…………………………………

I’m thinking the same thing.

Every salesperson has their go-to lines.   The lines they think will seal the deal and get them that 3% commission.  But sometimes they use their go-to line on the wrong customer and have to quickly retreat, trying not to trip over the tail lagging clumsily between their legs.

And once in a blue moon, you get a salesperson that uses their go-to line on the wrong customer, never realizes their mistake and continues to beat their point into the missed mark.

I went shopping for a mattress the other day and happened upon the latter.

A few clarifying points:

1. I’m not picky about my mattress
2. I don’t have a ton of money
3. I’m not very good with girls

I walked into The Mattress Warehouse and was immediately greeted by a woman in her upper 20’s.  I explained clarifying points 1 and 2 to her and she began showing me the various options.

“These are your standard mattresses,” she said as I flopped backwards onto the first bed she pointed at.

Convinced, I got up and was ready to pay and get out of there.  Seeing my eagerness to leave, she decided to take a stab and up-sell me on one of their nicer options.

“Before you decide,” she added, “you should check out this bed over here.”

Reluctant but polite, I followed her to her prized possession.  And as soon as I lay my head on the pillow came the line…

Saleswoman: “What do you think?”
Alex: “It’s nice, but I think I’m going to stick with…”
Saleswoman: “Watch this!”

(The saleswoman jumps into bed with me)

Alex: “Watch what?”
Saleswoman: “Did you feel anything?”
Alex: “Not really?”
Saleswoman: “Isn’t that amazing? A lot of people don’t like when they can feel every move of the person in bed with them.”

(I begin to get up)

Alex: “Oh I’m not really concerned with anyone being in bed with me.”
Saleswoman: (insistently) “Oh I’m sure you’ve dealt with it some.”
Alex: “Not really…”
Saleswoman: “Well think of how much a girl would like spending time on this mattress…”
Alex: “I’m sure she’d love it.”
Saleswoman: “Exactly.”

(uncomfortable silence)

Saleswoman: “So what do you think?”
Alex: “I don’t think you’re following me. I don’t really need to worry about a girl’s comfort on this mattress.”
Saleswoman: “But she would be VERY comfortable.”
Alex: “No, I get that.”
Saleswoman: “So what do you think?”
Alex: “I think I’m just gonna stick with the first one…”

I made my way to the cashier with the saleswoman right behind me, repeating something about how she just didn’t believe I wasn’t concerned with my mattress’s co-inhabited comfort. I considered pulling out mIphone and showing her my last post to put an end to the issue but decided against it, not wanting to hurt her salesmanship confidence.

As I paid the man at the cash register, he said “Wow this is a great mattress, your girlfriend is really going to enjoy this!”

I retrieved my debit card, looked at the man. Then looked at the saleswoman, smiled to myself and replied…

“She sure is.”

(Image thanks to SWP Moblog)

………………………

Usually when someone is reading this blog, it’s for one reason: I peer-pressured them into it.

But this post is fundamentally different than any before it. There will be at least 30 people who visit this post that I’ve never even spoken to.

How did you pull that off Alex?

I thought you’d never ask.

This past week, I thought aloud to some of my friends,

“Wow, I’d love see that new Harry Potter movie with a female but I don’t know a single (x2) girl that would go with me even if I promised to pay for both tickets, drinks, and a large popcorn (and all the refills that come with it).“

I also thought in silence to some of my friends,

“Wow, I wish someone besides my two best friends and mom would read my blog”

So I put up an ad on Facebook in an attempt to kill two burdens with one stone. The ad went a little something like this:

The ad will show up only on the Facebook pages of single girls who go to Chapel Hill and have Harry Potter as one of their interests. In case you were wondering, that’s 640 unlucky girls who have to see my smiling face when they’re trying to look at pictures of the guy they met at the bar last night.

………………………

For the Facebook Folk

I know what you’re thinking, “Is this guy serious?”

And the answer is yes. Yes I am.

Here’s what I’m seriously offering:

• A ticket to the most recent Harry Potter movie
• Large popcorn (with butter)
• One [insert your favorite canned beverage here]
  • Bring a big-enough purse since you will be sneaking this in

If you’re even considering considering taking me up on this offer, you’ll probably want to do some research first to see just what exactly you’d be getting yourself into. So here are a few of my previous date/girl experi (ences/ments):

• The Bookstore Date
• It’s just a movie…
• While we’re on the subject of Facebook  #1
• While we’re on the subject of Facebook #2
• For those familiar with the Greek system: A Mixer

You’ve done some reading and you’re still interested? First of all, I suggest you take a second and re-evaluate your interests. Once you’ve done that, feel free to send me a Facebook message (there’s only one Alex Pomer out there) or email me at ‘pomeratyahoodotcom@gmail.com‘.

And if you feel like telling me how bad an idea this is, that’s why there’s the comments below.

(photo thanks to rrazor)

Who doesn’t love a good prank?  I know I do.

For the fraternity/sorori-literate readers, let me start with a quick definition before I get to the good stuff.

Mixer:

(noun)

A social function where a Sorority and Fraternity meet a central location, usually a bar or club, to mingle.  These events typically have a quasi-risqué theme such as ‘golf pros and tennis hoes,’ ‘dirty professors and naughty schoolgirls’ and occasionally your standard ’80’s.’

End definition.

I got a call Monday from the social chair of Alpha Chi (Jordan)

She told me that Alpha Chi was supposed to mix with a Fraternity on Tuesday (today) but they had to cancel.  She was wondering if my fraternity had any social events planned for Tuesday night.

For those of you who don’t know, my fraternity is known in the greek system as ‘the smart fraternity’ so naturally, we did not have any social event planned for Tuesday.  I’m sure Jordan was as underwhelmed by that fact as I was.

I called our social chair to make sure it was okay to mix with Alpha Chi.  It was.  So I called Jordan back to get the details.

She told me when we were supposed to be there, how much it costs, and the unsurprising theme – Saint Patty’s Day.

Saint Patty’s Day-themed mixers are pretty standard.  Everyone dresses up in absurd green clothes, no one gets pinched, end of story.

So I decided to spice it up a little bit…

I sent the following email to my fraternity’s listserv to tell them about the mixer:

Guys,

Alpha Chi had a fraternity cancel on their mixer for Tuesday night and they’ve decided that we’re the fraternity most likely to be able to mix with them with only one day’s notice.  Fair enough.  We are.

We’ll be mixing at Uptown from 11pm-2am.

The theme is ‘Stoplight’

For those of you who don’t know what a ‘Stoplight’ theme is, I’ll put it in Facebook terms:

Wear…

You get the metaphor,

Alex

End Email.

The talk around my fraternity today is, “What color are you going to wear tonight?”  Most guys seem to be going with yellow so as not to appear desperate.

I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more, seeing my friends’ eyes light up when they see every girl decked out in green or seeing Jordan’s eyes darken when she realizes that her entire fraternity looks desperate.

Either way I think the score is pretty clear:

(Pomer – 1, Friends – 0, Jordan – 0)

WARNING: This post contains material that some might consider foul.  If you’ve just eaten or are about to eat, I encourage you to bookmark this page and return later.

A few days ago, I went to a local bar after a UNC basketball game.  While there, I was approached by a friend of mine name Jordan (yes, the same Jordan who sent this email to her Sorority listserv).

(She didn’t know that games are one of my specialties.)

As agreed, I stood up on the railing and screamed, “I LOVE YOU BOBBY FRASOR, I DO.  I LOVE YOU!!!”

Dodging strange looks, I returned to Jordan who was very satisfied with herself.

“My turn,” I said.

“I want you to get a chair, walk up to the girl’s bathroom and bang on the door with the chair screaming, ‘I have horrible diarhea! Please let me in! I’ve been pissing crap all day! Please!’”

Horrified but sticking to the deal, Jordan walked over to a table next to the bathroom, grabbed a metal chair, confidentally walked past a line of girls and began banging and screaming.

Compared to the looks Jordan got from the girls in line, the strange looks I got resembled an adoring puppy.

After two minutes of begging, someone let her in.

When she got back, she looked at me frustrated and said, “Wow, that was really embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “But are you still bored?”

(Pomer – 1, Jordan – 0)

I should start by saying that, as you may have guessed, I’m not very practiced at 2nd dates…

…especially ones where I promised the girl to do something that’s not your standard date.

Naturally, two nights ago I started freaking out when I realized that I had no idea what the hell I was going to do with this girl. I asked some friends of mine who were sitting in the room if they had any ideas.

My friend Eugene mentioned, “You should walk around a bookstore with her.”

I immediately told him that was a horrible idea.

10 minutes later, I realized that he may be onto something and decided to try it…

…with a little twist of course.

So tonight, I’ll be picking up Valentine’s Girl for what she thinks is a coffee date at Barnes and Nobles. When we sit down at a table, I’ll hand her an envelope with the following letter in it:

Page 1:

Dearest Amy,

You’re probably thinking that ‘getting coffee’ isn’t much of an excursion. And you’re right. But this is more than just a coffee date as you’ll find out. In fact, it’s not even really about coffee. I like to think of it as a bookstore date.

When you read this line, look up at me as if you’re angry I tricked you into going here with me.

That’s my cue to excuse myself to go to the bathroom so you can read the rest of this and think about strategy.

Here’s what’s going on:
I’ve come up with a few ‘games’ that we’ll be playing to get to know each other better and make this a little more fun. Each game will involve finding a book (or two) in a given amount of time. We will then return to the table and compare/discuss our choices.

The details of the games are on the next page.

I hope you enjoy this half as much as I’m going to,
Alex

P.S. No, I’ve never done this before. You’re the first.

Page 2:

THE BOOKSTORE GAMES

Round 1:
Find the book that you’ve most recently read (not for school). Find the book that you’ve read the most number of times (not less than 200 pages).

Time: 5 minutes

Round 2:
Find a book that reminds you of your childhood.

Time: 4 minutes

Round 3:
Find a biography of one of your idols.

Time: 4 minutes

Round 4:
Find the book whose author would have the highest point total in Scrabble

Time: 3 minutes

Final Round:
Find the book that has the most absurd (content-wise) first page (the first page of the actual book, not the worthless publishing information, table of contents, etc.).

Time: 6 minutes

End letter.

All (both) the female readers, would you enjoy something like this or would you think it was way over the top?

Last night I met a girl. Let’s call her Amy for now…

…mostly because that’s her name.

Background: Pomer and Amy are discussing the cons and cons of online date sites when Pomer makes a very predictable move…

…or does he? (queue music).

Pomer: “So, do you have any Valentine’s Day plans with your boyfriend?
Amy: “…I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Pomer: (nice) “Do you have any Valentine’s Day plans at all?

(3 seconds pass as she considers the question)

Amy: “Um… I’m going to The Vagina Monologues.”
Pomer: (…nice?) “Oh, so you’re a feminist?”
Amy: “I guess…”
Pomer: “Great. Do you want to be my Valentine’s Date?”

(5 seconds pass as she considers the question)

Amy: “Um…sure?”
Pomer: “Perfect. How about this, I’ll cook a meal and you pay for it all.”
Amy: “Why would I pay for it?”
Pomer: “Because you want women’s equality and so do I. We’re just switching roles for the night.”

(Amy looks confused)

Amy: “But wouldn’t it be more equal if we split it?”
Pomer: “Fine. Let’s have our date, I’ll see how it goes, maybe call you back, wait two hours after you text me to respond, and if we make it to a second date, I’ll consider paying… but probably won’t.”
Amy: “That sounds horrible.”
Pomer: “Doesn’t it?”

(Amy is visibly frustrated)

Amy: “I see what you’re doing. Fine. Here’s my number. Call me tomorrow and we’ll see what happens.”

End dialogue.

What happens:

Dinner will be waiting for her when she gets back from The VMs tomorrow night.

I hope she likes Mexican because I used to work at Qdoba and that’s the only thing I can cook.

This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever.

Thank you equality.

And I think part of that is realizing that men and women aren’t that different after all.

A few days ago I had lunch with a girl friend (note the space… again).

She was talking about an exam she took where she thought she did really well. The conversation went something like this:

Pomer: “What did you get?”
G F: “92″
Pomer: “What was the class average?”
G F: “93″

(Thirty seconds pass as we eat.)

Pomer: “You know if it were me, I would have lied about the class average.”
G F: “What do you mean?”
Pomer: “I would have said it was a 91… and not even felt bad about it.”
G F: “Haha, why would I lie to you?”
Pomer: “I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

(The conversation shifts to your standard what are you doing this weekend.)

G F: “Blah Blah Blog”
Pomer: “Yada Yada Yoda”

(Five minutes later)

G F: “I have a confession to make…”
Pomer: “Okay…”
G F: “I made an 88 on the test.”
Pomer: (erupting in laughter) “I knew it!”

(Pomer – 1, G F – 0)

Yesterday, I ran in the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

For those of you who don’t know, it’s a race for charity where you run two miles, eat a dozen donuts and then run the two miles back.

It was one of the worst experiences of my life so I thought I’d give you all a play-by-play of my miserable marathon.

Let’s begin at the beginning why don’t we…

A few days ago, while discussing strategy for the event, a friend suggested, “You know, your stomach is biggest about five hours since your last meal.”

I have no idea whether or not that’s true.

But taking my friend for his word, at 3:30am the night before the race, I put on my jacket and made the trek to Time Out to eat some Mac and Cheese.

Less than four hours later, my alarm went off and I nearly started crying.

Eyes red and legs tired, I got out of bed, put on some wake-you-up music, and faced the morning ahead.

15 friends and I carpooled (in angry silence) to Raleigh, waited in a few lines, and long after we knew it, were standing with thousands of other runners ready to make ourselves sick.

The race began surprisingly well. I came out of the gates with my head held high and my feet down low.

I don’t know how it happened, some call it adrenaline, others call it luck, I call it my competitive juice, but I finished the first two miles in under 15 minutes.

Breathing (painfully) heavily, I strutted over to the donut line ready to take on phase two.

I scarfed down the first cold, glazed donut, realized I was already full and almost started crying (again).

Manning up, I grabbed six donuts, smashed them together, dipped them in a cup of water and began nibbling away.

10 minutes later, after watching most of my friends finish their entire dozen and running off, I finished the smashed six.

Knowing what was ahead, I changed venues to the BP parking lot across from Krispy Kreme. I then smashed the remaining five donuts together, dipped them in water, took two bites…

…and immediately threw up.

Everywhere.

From there, I sort of fell into the rhythm of bite, bite, splap… bite, bite, splap…

I actually overheard a bystander remark to his friend, “Hey, that guy sounds like the drum line in that Queen song, We Will Rock You.”

They went on for a few minutes, maybe even mentioning “the glaze on my face” and “how big a disgrace I was,” but I didn’t care and eventually downed the last donut-bite.

A friend of mine (Chris) just happened to finish his donuts at the same time as me and we decided to jog back together…

…nice and slowly.

We lumbered along, getting passed by children on the left and old people on the right.

Embarrassed but determined, we kept our heads down and kept moving forward, slowing down only twice to throw up in a passing bush.

Finally, we rounded the last corner and the finish line came into view.

And that’s when the competitive juice kicked in again.

Leaving Chris behind, I began running faster, determined to beat a few of the runners ahead of me. But after passing four or five people, I started getting tired again and thought about slowing down…

Until I saw her.

A fourteen year-old girl who was quickly gaining ground on me from behind.

If I had to guess, I’d say her name was Kelli.

And with 50 yards to go, Kelli caught me.

Terrified, I looked at her.

And she looked at me…

…then smiled.

And that’s when I decided that there was no way that this cocky, self-righteous, non-sleep-deprived, joke-of-a-runner, girl was going to beat me in this race.

So I looked back at her with a grimace and choked out, “Good try.”

Then I ran.

Hard.

Harder than I should have been able to, harder than most people’s body’s would let them.

But hard enough to pass her.

And pass her I did. Just as the finish line approached, head down, arms behind me, using my last burst of energy, I passed her.

Once through the finish line, I headed straight to the closest trashcan and returned to the snare line of We Will Rock You.

After a few verses, I looked up and saw Kelli looking at me, confused, thinking, How could he possibly justify doing that to his body just to beat me in a meaningless race for charity?

And I thought back, You may be standing tall, breathing steadily and I may have thrown up every last bit of food and liquid in my body…

…but I didn’t throw up my competitive juice.

I win.

(Alex – 1, Kelli -0)

Note: Yes, I know the aforelinked T.I. featuring Young Jeezy song is about beats and not feet(s) but it just felt so natural.