My Roommate Jon

California Gurls

Here’s the thing:  I’m not what you would describe as “musically gifted”.  If I fell and couldn’t get up, I don’t have enough acting grace to play it off.  The last time I made a drawing, the art teacher thought she was in the midst of a blind kid.  I don’t own a camera, have never filled a notebook, and have never even recorded something worth spending the time to put on Youtube.  In short, I am no artist.

And neither is Mike Posner, Lady Gaga, or 3OH!3. 

Yet I know an artist when I come across one.

Katy Perry, for instance.

Have you heard California Gurls?  I have.  But more importantly, so has Jon.  Like, seventy-three thousand times.  Most of which was either when going to or coming from Carolina this past week.  Because the Jeep is high on radio, low on any other sort of music playing device.  Did you know if you seek through radio stations long enough you’ll eventually land on this masterpiece?  Nate, Markus, myself, and most importantly, Jon, know all the lyrics to Katy Perry’s work of genius now.  If I had to pick one person to speak for and represent Jon in front of the United Nations - it’d be Katy Perry.  She gets her constituency.  Evidence: “California girls, we’re undeniable.  Fine, fresh, fierce - we got it on lock.”  I don’t really know what that means, which shows she has some sort of underlying fundamental understanding of people that I don’t get.  Impressive.

On a quick side note: the other night while watching Jersey Shore with Nate, D’Imad, and Markus, MTV aired a commercial with this song in the background.  Jon is wildly enamored with it.  I voiced my disappointment that the song was becoming MTV-popular and Markus asked me why.  I couldn’t give an answer, but later realized that I must have felt that way because if the song were to blow up and be everywhere then it might mean something less to me than it had when I originally held it personal.  Make sense?  Maybe not.  That’s the beauty of California Gurls though - since it’s already everywhere that we hear it, it can never lose it’s personal importance to Jon!

So Jon’s a big Katy Perry fan now.  Hard to blame him there.  What’s less certain is his feelings on my boy, Justin Bieber.  Up until that song came on Jon said he had never heard one of his songs before.  He didn’t speak much about it afterward, so I’m assuming throughout the duration of JBieb killin’ it that Jon was silent in contemplation of just how much he’s now down with him.  I would have thought The Bieb was still blowing up the airwaves, but only once did we hear him.  Once!  We heard this more often.  I counted.  Ridiculous.  I feel bad for him.  But I’m proud that he eventually reached Jon’s demographic.  Furthermore, I’m elated that Jon has been exposed to a recently significant part of our culture.  Now if only our culture would become more exposed to a significant part of my slice of life: Jon.  Yo Mike Posner, he probably is cooler than you, bro.

We took it down south.

Last week I went to Carolina.  The Beach.  Nate went too.  Markus was there.  Retro as well.  Even Judd for good measure.  But most importantly, last week Jon went to the beach.  Whether it was his intention to perfect his tan, make tourists jealous of his physique, or punch some sharks, we all benefited from his excursion to the shore for 6 nights, 7 days.  One intention of his I was positive of, however, was that of going to JR in Salem, North Carolina, on the way down.

Previous to our stop, all I knew about JR was that they sold cigars.  My expectations didn’t much exceed that, for all I knew otherwise was Retro’s description of JR as “Walmart meets a flea market”.  Pretty spot-on and faithful when you learn they call themselves a “Discount Outlet”.  After browsing the cigar selection to make some purchases, and before eating lunch at Bojangles, we walked around a little.  I saw that.  Above.  A couple things flashed across my mind: 1) Yes I would like a box of MoonPie Double Deckers for $1; 2) Yes I would be interested in an alternative flavor for a similarly terrific price; 3) Just kidding screw MoonPie.

Jog your memory here, here, and here.

Needless to say, no MoonPies were purchased that day, nor for the remainder of the trip.  We snacked on other things.  Trail mix was rather popular.  Honey wheat pretzels too.  Triscuits with hummus was a huge hit.  Jon was really digging that.  I think for Jon it went something like:

1. Triscuits, then
2. honey wheat pretzels, followed by
3. trail mix

I can’t blame him for that power ranking really, especially knowing that Jon pretty much despises peanuts.  It just seems like trail mix is trying to be too much anyway.  Yeah, it’s like cool this is a good salty snack well done peanuts!  But then the M&Ms show up confusing everything, while the raisins just kind of hang out doing whatever.  Decide what to be and go be it.  Make up your mind trail mix. 

Jon enjoys images.

One time long ago, Jon and I were having a discussion over Facebook.  We were back at our respective homes, and I believe this time was at some point during the previous winter break.  I know this because our conversation entailed Jon voicing his frustration over UPS or Fedex not delivering his sweet new snowboard on time.  Yes I remembered the details of a very specific conversation he and I had.  It got me thinking.  That thinking led me to make the image below and to share it with Jon.  Because I knew he’d like it.  It’s a diagram of why his packages are never delivered satisfactorily. 

Jon likes images that make him laugh.  He likes pretty much everything that makes him laugh, but images hold a particularly significant place in his heart because they are readily shareable and Jon’s a big fan of enhancing the well being of his immediate community.  I like to think that Jon likes me because I make him laugh.  The fundamental issue underlying that, however, is that which was just previously alluded to in that I am not as readily shareable as, say, this. 

I decided to make another image for Jon.  That’s below.  It’s based on the song by Lil’ Wayne, or more specifically Young Money, called Every Girl.  If you’re not familiar, you can give it a listen, though it probably is the worst song I’ve heard to date.  I’ve listened to a lot of music.  Lil’ Wayne voices his desire to f*** every girl in the world.  It’s a wish.  A pretty bad one, but whatever.  My only question was, “Why?”  But I dropped that knowing there’s no intelligent answer.  Then I decided there are only a couple ways to achieve that wish.  Here’s a flowchart. 

Those were all the scenarios I could think of.  But seeing as how I’m not experienced in the pursuit of relations with every girl in the world, I’m open to additional suggestions should you have any. 

Plumbing Calamity and Option C

There are certain things in life one would prefer not to worry about.  Things like cholesterol.  Taxes.  Where Jon is.  And, more particularly, plumbing.  If there’s a leak and Jon isn’t around to fix it, does the leak fix itself?  I discovered the answer to this conundrum the hard way.

The answer is no.

Thursday night Markus and I returned from dinner to lounge at The Cove and watch a movie.  HBO.  Away We Go.  It was my first time seeing it and I liked the movie a lot.  Especially this scene. In stark contrast, we subsequently discovered that I Love You, Beth Cooper may be the biggest travesty of a commentary on social life in high school that we have ever had the misfortune of sitting through.  Screw that movie.

When we were watching Away We Go and subconsciously relating it to Jon’s life, presumably, D’Imad came home, said hello, then went to take a shower.  As the shower started up, I could hear water pouring very clearly.  More clear and vivid than usual.  I at first thought that maybe D’Imad is trying out a new habit of showering with the door open?  Then I determined he’s very susceptible to peer pressure, so there’s no way he’d go and attempt something unique.  Obviously.  I nervously looked at Markus and went to investigate.  Turns out water was pouring out of the top of the toilet tank in the downstairs bathroom.  You know, nbd really. 

I courageously dashed into the bathroom to shut the water off at the base, while Markus rounded up a towel to limit the flood.  Quick thinking on both parts, all while D’Imad continued to shower none-the-wiser.  Jon probably would have done something just as quick-witted and impressive.  I know this because one time back at The Bearcat Manor something caught fire in the oven and he extinguished it without losing his cool.  Sometimes all you need in life is a little emergency.

I’ve since pinned this disaster directly on Nate.  He doesn’t know that yet though.  I’ve also set my mind to deciding my next course of action in fixing the issue, as I’m striving to be more like Jon when he isn’t available.  You know it’s not so easy when you’re alone.  I see two options.  Either, a) I fix it myself, or b) Nate fixes it.  Option A sounds like a pretty faithful strat, whereas B sounds like this issue would go unresolved for months.  The time frame isn’t that crucial, but I would prefer this to be done sooner rather than later just in case three people have to use a bathroom at the exact same time in The Cove.  You never know.  Typically there would be an Option C, which would be “inject Jon into the situation forcing him to beat Nate until he acted”.  Seeing as how Jon isn’t settled in The Cove yet though, Option C will have to put on the back burner.  Option A it is.

Brother

I don’t have a brother, per se. I have a sister.  Older. Nate doesn’t have a brother either. He too has a sister, although I have never met her, so I am far from convinced that she actually exists.  Regardless, Nate and I have begun taking to addressing one another by “brother”.  And when I say brother, I mean we say it like this, not like this.  It’s kind of cool because Nate and I are in a sense, fraternity wise, brothers.  But when we do say it to one another it’s not so much to recall that fact so much as it is to be serious about our preceding or following declarations.  For example, “Brother, the dishwasher must be run,” or, “Our landlord is a miserable waste of life, brother.”  I really think it engages us in conversation to a more delightful degree, knowing that between the words a somewhat indescribable bond exists.

Jon has a brother.  They look very similar, though if you were to point this out to Jon he would vehemently disagree with you.  I’m praying that their sort of striking resemblance doesn’t lead to a tragic case of mistaken identity in some sort of seductive, late-night excursion between Jon, his girl, and his brother.  As that would be a terrible event, Jon may be fearful of it’s potential to occur, thus possibly accounting for why he gets irritated when you commentate on their similar appearance.  But, I digress.  The point I’m trying to make is that it will be difficult for me to call Jon by “brother,” jokingly or not, as he already has a brother - me not being that individual.  It would be too weird.  What if I said it in front of his actual brother?  How would that make him feel?  His brother would start getting all these thoughts of me then being his brother as well, since I would be referring to Jon as my brother.  That’s crazy.  I don’t even know the bro that well.

I suppose in the potential situation noted above I could instead address Jon with “bro”.  The problem with that, however, is two things: 1) It’s not possible to mimic Hulk Hogan in that regard, and 2) neither he nor I own any article of Ed Hardy clothing.  Those points combined virtually eliminate the possibility of using “bro”.  I will have to consider wise what to do.  Or maybe this fad between Nate and I will just wear off before Jon moves back in.  God forbid.

On a closing note, if someone some day makes a montage of my life set to Creed - I will know I have succeeded.. in.. something.

I wrote to Steve Jobs.

A little while ago I sent an email to Steve Jobs.  That email is below.  Steve Jobs does a pretty good job [pun only intended if you laughed…] of replying to emails sent to him, so I was hoping for a little 1-on-1 with this great suggestion I had for him. 

Hey Jobsy,

Congratulations on the launch of the latest iPhone.  Looks pretty ill.  I wish I could be typing this email on one right now, but I’m a pretty poor college kid, thus most likely will not own one.  Same may go for my roommate, Jon.  I write a blog about him.  Below is a link to it.  I’d say, “No viruses, promise!” but we know you’re probably on a MacBook or iPad, so no biggie right?  You can laugh that one off.  Here’s a choice excerpt:

http://myroommatejon.tumblr.com/post/727201169/the-way-we-talk

I think you should employ that grammar in your next keynote speech.  For example, “This new Mac mini is the illest strat for an HTPC to ever be brought to mass market.”  Thoughts?

Take it sleazy,

Nick

He didn’t reply.  Which doesn’t help my opinion of him very much.  I’ll try to give him the benefit of the doubt in this though.  When I wrote that email the new iPhone had just launched and nobody knew how suck-filled it was.  So, in retrospect, if he were to have received this email way after the fact he probably would have thought I was mocking him.  Sorry bro, was not the case.  “Was” being the operative word there.

Jon doesn’t own any Apple products other than an early generation iPod and current generation iPod Touch.  I think he likes them.  Sometimes he’ll throw the Touch on and cruise campus to class.  I never know what he’s listening to when he does.  I generally imagine it’s either this or this.  He has a broad taste in music.  I also imagine him getting around like this though too, so maybe I’m just entirely out of touch.

Tragedy averted, hilarity unensued, Cove decorated.

Monday I had the day off.  Federal holiday.  D’Imad did not have the day off.  Just a basic Monday for him.  I’m not sure if Jon had the day off or not.  I’m assuming yes, though don’t hold me to that.

I spent my day thinking a lot about Jon and whether or not he enjoyed his 4th of July.  After reflecting on all of the knowledge of Jon that I have accumulated over the years, I deduced, “Duh.”  Then D’Imad called me and told me he scoped a medical office on Craigslist giving away free stuff that afternoon downtown.  His request for me to join him in pillaging was met with a firm affirmative, though not until after my hopes for free stethoscopes and white lab coats were dashed.  Apparently that stuff actually has value. 

So what did The Cove get?  A couple small end tables, a pole for coat hanging in the winter, and some ridiculous looking pieces of art to hang on our walls.  I tried to do that, to hang those pieces of art.  I started with one by the entry stairs.  After hanging it on an already existing hook, I took a step back to admire my work.  Which probably saved my life.  Because the nail holding the hook spun in it’s hole, freeing the hook from the frame, thus allowing the enormous picture to fall to the floor and share its glass all over the carpet.  I got cut.  Bleeding your own blood is not fun.  It’s ironic to get hurt by stuff from a medical office.

I wished Jon was around.  He’s a pretty handy guy, so he probably could have sewed me back up and hung that frame (sans glass) again.  Guess I subconsciously think of him as something like a Clara Barton-Bob the Builder hybrid.  But he wasn’t around.  At least when he returns The Cove will have some fresh decorating.  I’m thinking of taking it a step further, though, by turning all of these into framed canvas art we can hang around The Cove.  Particularly this one which I would hang in Jon’s room as a homecoming gift [ed. note: Who spells that name with an H? That’s stupid].  I’d keep this one for my room.  I think Jon would really appreciate the 1960’s-Japan art direction of The Cove.  He’s not really one for impressionism or postmodernism.  Artistically thinking, I considered hanging black and white photography of Chicago’s architecture through the seasons.  Then I decided if I wanted to see that I’d go to Chicago.  But when could I see a robot fighting a dinosaur?  So that’s what I’m running with. 

Jon loves America.

On a day not quite unlike today, many, many days ago, I walked in on Jon caught in a stupor of biblical description.  Eyes engaged, foam forming at the mouth, Jon sat there with fists clenched tight rocking back and forth.  Through the startle of the moment possessed, I could him softly issuing quiet hums through his lock-jawed teeth.  It was the Star-Spangled Banner.  He was reading the Declaration of Independence.  A slow tear trickled down the right side of my face and I saluted him. 

Or something like that.  I can’t quite remember.  It was just such a poignant moment.  Point is Jon loves himself some U.S. of A.  And I love that about him.  There really isn’t a lot more that Jon takes pride in than being a citizen of the United States.  And we’re not talking the kind of pride that condemns you to an eternity in hell.  We’re talking the kind of pride that gets you all hot and bothered in your jealousy condemning you to an eternity in hell.  Yup. 

But why does Jon love the stars and stripes so much?  There are a lot of reasons.  Here are a few that I found easy to explain:

• Baseball - our nation’s pastime, Jon’s sport of choice outside of tennis.  Go Cubs. 
• The Men and Women of our Armed Forces - he loves every single one of you. 
• John Philip Sousa composures - soundtrack to Jon’s life. 
• South Dakota - Jon hails proudly from the Midwest, our nation’s greatest geographic region. 
• Dogs - he wants one.  
• Local Government - Jon went to a town hall meeting once.
• Chipotle - started in Denver, Colorado. 
• Olympics - we dominate them.

There are a lot of other reasons too, some more complex than others.  I didn’t even dare try to attempt his passion for cattle or the farms they’re raised on.  That’s a love unobservable in any other fashion.  But all in all Jon’s a big fan of this country, so he’s probably pretty pumped that today is July 4th, Independence Day.  He hopes you are too.  Go get nuts over liberty. 

Jon would hate these forks.

When D’Imad moved into The Cove he brought some things.  Stuff like a coffee table.  More plates.  Himself.  But namely those forks pictured above.  I believe they are of the Ikea brand.  After bringing over all of his kitchen supplies he made the recommendation that Jon should not bring with him any more kitchen supplies upon his return as our cupboards and drawers have become quite stocked.  I subtley thought to myself at that particular moment, “Whoa bro, nobody tells Jon what to do.”  I didn’t make that point succinctly known to D’Imad because I want to observe how things would play out should he attempt to place upon Jon such a restriction.  Here’s a hint: won’t be poetic. 

Point is, I hate these forks.  I will never eat with these forks.  Three prongs?  Are you kidding me?  I’d prefer to eat with my hands rather than arm myself with this futile design of an eating utensil.  Somebody will walk in on me feeding myself spaghetti with my index and middle finger and think, “Geez, the alternative must have been pretty terrible.”  Without a doubt Jon will feel the same when he moves back in.  He doesn’t put up with tomfoolery of this nature.  Nor tomfoolery of much nature actually.  He’s a straight talkin’ cat.  Fact of the matter is, no matter how silly you may find them, Jon may prefer to use sporks over all other utensils.  Analytically speaking, they’re more practical, and Jon’s an agent of practicality.  It’s a spoon and a fork.  Outside of Jon’s clothing choices (fashion and function!), not many more things practical than that. 

I hope when Jon moves back in and we’re all getting acquainted once again that he will call D’Imad into the kitchen, then do his best Keanu-Matrix impression and say, “There is no fork.”  Leading him to empty all these wastes of money into the trash can.  Because these forks are dumb. 

Jon does not care about the NBA.

There are a lot of things Jon doesn’t care about.  It’s not because he’s apathetic.  It more often tends to be because he’s just consumed with more serious, worldly thoughts vying for his concern.  The NBA is not one of those serious, worldly things.  Its impending free angency bonanza tipping off at the stroke of midnight is even less one of those things. 

That’s not to say Jon does not like basketball.  He does.  He loves Mason basketball and does fancy watching the college game.  Though if it came down to it, Jon would more than likely prefer to watch an Iowa Class Double-A High School Boys’ States Quarterfinal playoff game on a 13-inch black and white TV than watch game seven of the NBA finals. 

So when Jon wakes up tomorrow morning, I already know how the scene will play out.  He will eat his breakfast and watch his SportsCenter, but be dissatisfied in doing so for the top stories will be what is going on with the NBA, Lebron James, Dwayne Wade, and etc.  He’ll want to hear more about Federer getting upset at Wimbledon.  That won’t come til about 17 minutes in, and it’ll last about 23 seconds in a blurb.  This won’t come as a shock to him, as it’s just the same old-same old with ESPN.  He’ll be prepared for it, though the frustration will still exist.  In addition, here’s a list of other things Jon doesn’t care about thanks to ESPN:

• Whether or not Brett Favre will return to the Vikings.
• What Ben Roethlisberger did or did not do.
• How Tiger Woods will perform at the next PGA Tour event.
• Women’s Tennis
• Michael Vick and Cedric Benson
• The entire starting lineup, management, and farm system of the New York Yankees

To me, tomorrow will be like waking up on Christmas.  Just can’t wait to roll out of bed to see how much cash Chicago’s throwing at Lebron.  It’ll be the opposite for Jon.  He hates this kind of speculative talk, especially considering it’s speculation about the NBA.  Summertime’s a killer for quality sports talk.  These are Jon’s dog days.