Angry Tunes

By definition, one word to describe the Angry White Loner is angry. Without that particular adjective, or the words white or loner, you've got no Angry White Loner. And that would certainly be a doggone shame.

Those who know me, however, know that the term Angry White Loner is something of a misnomer. Unless I'm stuck in traffic and I'm late for a very important date. Or I'm playing Halo with friends and I'm on what you might call a "dying spree." Or I'm mailing my tax payment in to the federal government (which is actually only a few days away now).

But no, not Bruce Banner/Hulk angry. Or Michael Douglas in the movie Falling Down angry. Or Katie Kaboom angry. (Anybody out there remember Katie from "Animaniacs"?)

Other than those instances, though, the phrase, as I originally mentioned in my very first post over a year ago, is actually based on a character I am wont to play in an improv game we call "Press Conference."

Speaking of improv, I really enjoyed tonight's troupe workshop. I always enjoy our troupe workshops, though tonight's was especially fun, because it was a music-centric workshop. Performing improvised music is both one of the most challenging and the most rewarding parts of performing live improv. If you've been to one of our performances, then you know from firsthand experience what I mean. If you haven't been to one of our performances—I've been appearing with this group for six years now, for heaven's sake—well, why are we still friends?

Just kidding about that last part. Only partly.

I was given the emotion "anger" in a new singing game that we learned. When it was my turn to sing, this came out:

"Sitting in my room alone, I'm listening to Evanescence;
My woman's left me, yeah, she's the queen of putrescence!"

Sometimes, you surprise even yourself!

Dave Barry refers to heavy metal music as "music to slaughter cattle by." All of the bands/songs in "Weird Al" Yankovic's "Angry White Boy Polka" also fit in the category. Even one of my favorite classical music pieces, Edvard Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King," I would say, fits the bill.

Basically, anything you could punch-dance to, like Andy Samberg in Hot Rod or Kevin Bacon in Footloose, might very well be "angry" music.

What's your favorite piece of angry music? Post them in the comments section. Or don't. Whatever floats your boat.

Be nice about it! Not angry.

Hot Guy Saves the Universe

The Angry White Loner and his five-year-old nephew have been hanging out a lot lately, usually by playing video games or with LEGO bricks, or, combining the best of both worlds, playing LEGO-themed video games. Because that's just the kind of awesome uncle the AWL is.

At five years old, my nephew is too young to see The Avengers, which is rated PG-13, and many of the other popular superhero-themed movies now making guys exclaim "Cool!" and women pass out. Through the LEGO Marvel Super Heroes video game, however, I've been introducing him to the likes of Iron Man, Spider-Man, Thor, the X-Men, the Fantastic Four, and so forth.

A recent conversation with him went like this:

Nephew: Who is that guy?

AWL: The one with the bow and arrows?

Nephew: Yeah.

AWL: His name is Hawkeye.

Nephew: Hot Guy?

AWL: Your mom sure thinks so, yeah.

How Nerdy I Am . . .

When the Improvables perform, the show rarely ends when the last improv game is played, the audience goes home, and the theater doors are closed. Quite often, in fact, it is just the beginning.

Such was the case Saturday night when, following another performance at Playbills' Theater in Clearfield, we congregated over at one of our two local greasy spoons and ended up playing a game we called "Wanna Hear How Nerdy I Am?" - something we made up earlier during our warm-ups for the show - for most of the rest of the evening.

"Wanna Hear How Nerdy I Am?" basically works like this: Each person takes a turn telling a story about his/her own nerdiness, first asking the question "Wanna hear how nerdy I am?" The other members of the group reply, "How nerdy are you?" The person then tells a story that answers both questions.

Some of the more interesting stories told included tales of sewing Hobbit costumes, staying up late to read the latest Harry Potter book during the last week in the mission field, the extent to which someone went to meet her favorite rock star, and having the neighbors call the police because someone was loudly singing showtunes at 2:00 in the morning.

As far as covering all of the nerd bases goes, we discussed everything from Star Wars and "Star Trek" to superheroes and "Saved by the Bell" trivia.

Speaking of which, some of my own admissions included:

 -My LDSJEDI license plate, which was the result of an attempt to impress a girl I was dating (and a fellow Star Wars fan). When she saw the plates for the first time, she remarked, "That's a little extreme, isn't it?"

 -Dressing up in my Jedi robes to attend the midnight premiere of Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones and then being interviewed by a radio DJ about the film on my way out of the theater

 -Taping every episode of "Saved by the Bell" over four VHS tapes

 -Writing plot summaries of "Transformers" episodes in my journal when I was nine and 10 years old

 -Dressing up in my Superman costume day after day when I was a kid

And so forth. There are plenty more stories where those came from.

My concluding thought: It's okay to be nerdy about nerdy things. There's no shame in it . . . unless the thing you're nerdy about is Twilight, of course. After all, the geeks shall inherit the Earth, or so I have been told.

Chances are, there are many others who feel just as nerdy about the same things.

"It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them."
   -Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Man of Aluminum and His Kryptonite

I just read online somewhere (source: somewhere) that the new Superman movie Man of Steel soared (ha ha! . . . get it?) to an incredible $113 million in box office earnings over the weekend. That's a lot of money! Putting it into figures we can all understand, it is the same as approximately .0066 percent of the current national debt.

Contributing $7 of my own to the cause, I caught the film yesterday along with a handful of family members. It was certainly a trip down memory lane for me, as once upon a time I was a strange, little kid who liked to dress up in my Superman costume nearly every day, often accompanying my poor, embarrassed mother to such public places at the grocery store and Primary activities while dressed in said outfit.

Now a strange, big kid, I must admit that I enjoyed the film immensely. Not to give away too much, but Dwight Schrute of "The Office" fame makes a cameo appearance as a childhood friend of Clark Kent's who grows up to become the manager of a Kansas IHOP. Also (and these are real spoilers now, so feel free to put your fingers in your ears and chant "Lah lah lah lah, I can't hear you!" until the end of this paragraph): There is surprisingly no mention in the film of either Lex Luthor or of kryptonite, two staples of the Superman universe.

True and seemingly unrelated, but bear with me, story: For Halloween a few years back, I created one of my favorite all-time costumes by tearing off a roll of aluminum foil, folding it around my head, and going to a Halloween party as one of the characters from M. Night Shyamalan's Signs - you know, the scene in which they create aluminum foil hats for themselves to keep the aliens from reading their minds? People at the party apparently had not seen Signs (their loss entirely, am I right?) and were utterly bewildered, thinking I was some sort of mutant Hershey's Kiss.

Ergo, if I were a superhero, I would not be the Man of Steel but the Man of Aluminum. And my one weakness, or kryptonite, as referenced in my previous post, would be: talking to women on the phone.

After all of these years of trying (and failing) to perfect the art of conversation over the phone, it's still no easier in my 30s than when I was 16 and was planning my first date. It can be a fine line trying to be funny/charming and coherent, while showing an earnest interest in her and what she has to say, and often I end up being none of the above.

One thing remains constant: I am a dweeb.

Sometimes, I stay awake at night wondering exactly how women feel about talking on the phone to someone who sounds very nervous doing so and is trying not to come across as, oh, say, Ted Bundy. Are they amused by it in a you're-such-a-moron fashion? Are they trying their hardest not to burst out into laughter? When they agree to go on a date, is it motivated by pity? I have even heard of a third school of thought: They actually see it as someone who is moving forward with a date request in spite of his fears and/or nervousness. I daresay, some are even impressed by it.

Whatever the answer may be, I can certainly understand why people find security in texting or e-mails or Facebook or what-have-you. It's a lot safer that way - especially if the girl declines the date request. That way, there's no awkward conversation that follows ("Well, will you be washing your hair on Thursday then?") and a can't-get-there-soon-enough hanging up of the phone.

Nevertheless, fellow males and Justice Leaguers, I admire the fortitude you show me in moving ahead in spite of your fears, for I believe that we all have them with regard to the opposite sex and also that this is the only real way to conquer our fears in the long run. I have accepted the phone call as a necessary evil in life and will need to keep phoning (preferably texting) women now and in the future.

Just don't expect a Man of Steel on the other end of the line.

People Are More Important

The other day, I was working on my laptop at McDonald's - Mickey D's, in case you were not aware, not only has (arguably, I realize) good food but also free Wi-Fi - when I couldn't help but overhear a conversation between a rather frustrated father and his teenage son over on the table adjacent to me.

The situation was basically this: The boy was paying a lot more attention to his iPhone than to his father, to his meal, or to basically anything else going on around him. I don't know if he was texting or playing Angry Birds or what, but he was far more involved in the virtual world than in the real one. The father did not like this. He repeatedly asked his son to put the phone away. Finally, the father said, "People are more important than iPhones."

This is not the kind of wisdom one normally expects to hear at McDonald's or at most any other public place, for that matter. But I feel that it was a profound statement nonetheless.

In my own travels, it has not been uncommon to see a good number of people paying more attention to their iPhones, iPods, iPads, flux capacitors, or what-have-you than to other people, and it usually makes me feel sad for these folks. There are the more-obvious examples of this happening, such as people texting while driving their cars or a couple having a text conversation while sitting right next to each other. There are also the less-obvious examples, which include people sitting alone in a corner, away from the crowd at a social event, texting someone else and essentially giving out the message that "present company" is just not that important. I am also told that there are people who stay up into the wee hours of the morning texting their friends for hours on end.

Don't get me wrong; like Kip in Napoleon Dynamite, I love technology, and it has done a great deal to improve all of our lives and the way that we communicate. I'd rather have a text conversation with someone than no conversation at all, or I'd prefer to send out a mass text to, for example, my improv troupe when it would save me the effort of making 30 different phone calls. But texting is something like #15 on my list of preferred communication methods, and I'd much rather have face-to-face interaction with people. Also, the purpose behind texting, for the most part, is with the goal in mind of seeing that person or persons in a face-to-face setting later on.

But Angry White Loner, you say. You send me about as many texts as everyone else does.

To which the AWL replies: That's quite possibly true. How about we meet up face-to-face and discuss it over dinner sometime?  Your treat, of course. ("You," in this case, is a single woman that the AWL wants to get to know by sending random flirty texts.)

Admittedly, if he were Superman, the AWL's kryptonite would be talking to women on the phone; he doesn't deny it. (Speaking of which, the AWL has a ticket to see the new Superman reboot Man of Steel this Saturday, and he wants to get in on the hype. There may very well be a movie review forthcoming.)

At any rate, perhaps that's a topic for another blog post. And perhaps the wise McDonald's father's message was meant for me just as much as it was meant for everyone else. Speaking of whom, if we ever meet again, sir, it will be my privilege to buy you anything you want from the dollar menu.

Your treat, of course.

Allergies

Have you ever had an allergy test? I've now been through two of them. Each time, it has been no less than a supremely funky experience.

The other day, my arm looked like this (only not so tan and with many more freckles):

Okay, so, this wasn't exactly my real arm, but trust me; I did you a favor. The real thing looked far more gruesome than this.

As it turns out, I am allergic to a good number of things. Both cats and dogs, which I or members of my family have owned as pets for as long as I can remember? Yep, I'm allergic to both. Of the 32 things I was tested for, I am allergic to 26 of them.

While Spider-Man's only weakness is very small knives, mine is . . . well . . . you name it.

The protocol now is to begin a series of weekly allergy shots to build up my immunity. Either that, or I suppose I can go out in public in a hazmat suit or a plastic bubble for protection.