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.

Since I’ve started working at a web design firm, I’ve been seeing slight changes in my personality, interests and sense of humor. But it wasn’t until today that I found cold, hard evidence when I realized I was sitting at my desk hysterically laughing and beaming proudly at my latest creation:

If you don’t get the joke, don’t worry. It just means you’re cooler than me.

I moved into my new house this week. And it’s amazing. I now have several things that I haven’t had since I lived with my parents (hi mom):

• A dishwasher
• My own bathroom
• A washer/dryer I can rely on
  • By that I mean my clothes won’t be lying on the dusty floor when I return, forcing me to re-wash them
• A closet with doors that work
• A private porch
• and a kitchen I’m allowed to cook in

Now you may be used to having most of these things. But to me, they’re a luxury.

Yep. Everything about the new house is perfect. Except one small thing…

I’m allergic to it.

What? you say.

Oh yeah… Allergic.

I’ve never been allergic to anything in my entire life. Not cats. Not dogs. Not even pollen.

But every time I step into the place where I am contractually bound to live for the next year, my nose starts running and I begin uncontrollably sneezing.

I know a bunch of you have moved into new homes this summer. If you’ve experienced a similar problem and have a solution, by all means let me know.

(picture thanks to Jacqui)

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.

Every blogging article stresses the importance of not apologizing for a blog post drought.  So I’m not apologizing… but I do want to talk a little bit about what I’ve been doing for the last few months, making the transition into the real world…

Sort of.

See, I graduated college (on time), got a job, and have been doing a little growing up.  But I say sort of because I still live in Chapel Hill, am still surrounded by college girls, and still stay out until past 2am.

I also say sort of because I have been making some changes in my lifestyle. Some say it’s about time. Some say it’s too late. I say I’m maturing. So without further ado, the top 10 ways that I’ve decided to grow up…

Number 10: I signed up for my own VIC Card.

No more of this “Do you have a VIC Card?” “No, but I have my mom’s phone number” business.  It was past time to take two minutes and get that little red triangular card to put on my keychain. Not to mention I felt bad that the Harris Teeter database still thought my mom drank Busch Lite.

Number 9: I purchase my own Propecia.

No longer can I guilt my mom into paying for my anti-balding medicine by pitching a fit when she tries to fast forward through the Hair Club for Men infomercial.

Number 8: I see AM daylight.

Cogito ergo sum: roughly translates to “I think, therefore I A.M.” I’m pretty sure Ol’ Descartes was talking about being at work before noon.

Number 7: I acquired a check book.

While your fraternity treasurer may let you pay your rent in cash, your landlord wants it in a check.

Number 6: The song ‘It’s five o clock somewhere‘ is finally starting to make sense.

Especially when Johny Kemp is singing his end-of-week symphony.

Number 5: Cream and sugar are things of the past.

There comes a point in every man’s life when he begins drinking his coffee black. For me, it was when including cream and sugar meant purchasing cream and sugar.

Number 4: Eating lunch is a treat.

Lunch in college was a social opportunity with my best friends and maybe even a girl (haha, just kidding). Lunch out of college is a relief from the 3+ hours of work you’ve already done.

Number 3: I now plan my day around getting to the bank.

The bank is open from 9-5. I work from 9-6. You figure it out.

Number 2: I’m finally moving out of my fraternity.

Goodbye peeing outdoors. Hello nice toilet paper.

Number 1: I work 9-5 Monday-Friday sitting in front of a computer screen.

Remember when you went to college and talked about how you wouldn’t end up in a cubicle? Don’t worry, you will.

I hope to return to posting at least weekly. I know you didn’t miss reading, but I missed writing.

(picture thanks to schase10353)

A brief recap: my transmission had to be completely rebuilt because I hadn’t changed my transmission fluid ever…

…because I didn’t know there was such a thing as transmission fluid.

On Wednesday, I brought my car back to the same transmission shop because my car would no longer accelerate.

And as it turns out, accelerating is an important part of driving.

So with my car once again in the shop, I was forced to borrow my step-dad’s old minivan (see below).

For those of you who don’t know your minivans, that’s a ‘94 Chrysler Town and Country, or ‘The T and C‘ as I call it.

And it’s no ordinary minivan.

No, this minivan comes specially equipped with a broken A/C, a moody right window, faulty automatic locks and a gas gauge that only works for the first quarter-tank so you have to just drive it until it conks out.

But it accelerates.  And that makes it superior to my undriveable Acura TL.

That is until something happened.

Two days ago I went out to my car to run some errands only to find the battery dead.

‘That kinda sucks,’ I thought.

Little did I know that it actually sucks way more than kinda.

The T and C no longer registers when a door shuts.  So even when all the doors are closed, the lights in the car stay on…

and as a result the battery dies…

Every. Single. Night.

In order for you understand the full extent of my little battery quandary, I’ve prepared a little skit.

The scene: A bunch of Alex’s friends are sitting comfortably on the couch watching The Masters in stunning hi def.  Alex needs to go to the bank.

(End Skit)

Now imagine that scenario everytime you want to go anywhere.

It hurts, doesn’t it? I know. I’m sorry.

Any of you had any annoying car problems? Let me know.  We can whine together.

I wrote a few weeks ago about how I gave up ‘not having a fish‘ for lent.

Easter is tomorrow and I’m sure you’re all wondering if I succeeded.

In short, no.  I failed.  But I failed in dramatic fashion.

A week ago I went to Wilmington for my friend’s wedding.  While gone, I left the care of Walt (the fish) to my friend Chris.

He did a fantastic job and I don’t blame any of the following chain of events on him.

Last Saturday night, someone went into the library in my fraternity (where the fish was being kept) and smashed the bowl on one of the tables.

Lying in a tiny puddle of water for nearly five hours, he was discovered the next morning by another friend.

Miraculously Walt survived.

My friend filled up a styrofoam cup with water and poured Walt from his broken bowl into the cup.

When I returned from Wilmington, the story of the attack on Walt and his heroic survival was the talk of the town.

Celebrating, I fed Walt and made plans to buy him a new home the next day.

I went to bed Sunday night proud of the strength and courage of my betta fish.

I woke up Monday morning only to realize that our caretaker had thrown Walt away, thinking it was just another leftover cup of water.

Was I sad? Yes.  Was I angry? Not really.

Walt and I made many memories during the four weeks that he was my pet but at the end of the day, he was just an $8 fish.

And I like to think that it’s the end of the day that matters.  Because that’s when it’s night.  And night is where the fun part of college happens…

For those of you celebrating, happy Easter and Passover.  For those of you not, have a great Saturday.

(photo thanks to Marit Cooper)

I believe a few things about athleticism.

1. Everyone thinks that he is more athletic than he actually is.

2. Once you get into college, your athleticism begins to decline.

In an effort to justify doing #1 since #2 is becoming more prevalent, I’ve begun finding new ways to identify myself as an athlete.

How you ask?

By not limiting ‘athleticism’ to only traditional sports and expanding its definition to anything that could remotely be considered a competition.

I’ll give you a quick example of someone else’s atypical athleticism before I go back to talking about my own natural superior skill-set.

I was in Wilmington this weekend for a friend’s wedding and Sunday afternoon, a bunch of friends and I got together to watch the Elite Eight games and Tiger Woods in the Arnold Palmer Invitational.

One friend in particular (Byrum) was in charge of manning the remote.  He successfully executed two straight hours of perfect channel changing.  We never had to watch a single commercial, never missed an important play, and never felt like we were watching something that was unentertaining.

It was one of the most amazing athletic achievements that I’ve ever witnessed.

I am not an athletic remote control-er.  But there are a few fields in which I’m incredibly athletic (see #1 above).

Here’s a list of my top 10 athletic skill-set:

1. Calling Shotgun

2. Sleeping on airplanes

3. Gmail Keyboard Shortcuts

4. Obscure Star Wars References

5. Facebook Pokes

6. Playing with Yoshi in N64 games

7. Eating Sunflower Seeds

8. Calling ‘Fives’

9. Snoozing alarms

10. Avoiding cracks on the sidewalk

What kinds of things do y’all do that are athletic by my new terms of the word?

(picture thanks to luiszarco)