Wi-Philes

(Disclaimer: this isn't a metaphor for 'walking with Jesus' or anything of that sort. I wouldn't put you through that. No offense to the Great Bearded Man in the Sky, but those stories repel people more than Jim Gaffigan's set on how these stories repel people (just kidding, I love the guy):

Here's the deal*. For the longest time, I have been certain that walking like a normal human being is impossible for me. To put my romantic prose to work, it's like I'm two robots with different speeds and rhythms grafted onto each other; one for the torso and one for the legs. Neither robot is good at doing either of their movements. The legs bend too much, or the feet overshoot their mark; the arms look mighty unnatural in both movement and position. It's also something I can FEEL: it's like the hydraulics in my legs are shot. The body jauntily bounces too much with each step.

Ever since I heard there was a perfect way to walk, or a preferable way at the very least, I've suddenly become aware that walking isn't as automatic as breathing. Which way of walking conveys masculinity, dominance, self assurance? Comfort? How can you do all of this without a ridiculous Jersey boy swagger? All that leaning from side to side is going to kill the obliques.

Even when sitting down, HE GOT SWAGS

Why the focus on a masculine walk? Guess the whole metrosexual walk is too aimless, lacking direction. Thinking on it, perhaps the biggest thing that messed me up is this tidbit of knowledge a guy once spouted in my direction. He said that walking with your legs further apart conveys dominance and masculinity for the reason that it APPEARS you're walking around a set of huge genitalia (read: cock and balls). This is no puppet show nor stuffing session; fruit bowl components need not apply. It's symbolism, body language, and whatever the fuck else the guy mentioned. I think the effect it's giving me is one of the following (Yay, lists are easy!)

-"This dude does pilates with his mom, and it's kicking his ass."
-Double hernia, groin region
-Massive anal rape victim/frequent customer/connoisseur
-Curious boy realized normal masturbation isn't fun anymore
-Another thing concerning the sphincter, probably

This walking thing is my main issue, aside from MY DAMNED THIN WRISTS. WHY, GOD?? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO WITH THESE?? However, just the other day**, I LEARNED HOW TO WALK AGAIN. Not by assessing the situation, looking within myself and realizing I'm just a self-sabotaging sucker sapping self-esteem solely for the sake of---fitting in with the rest of you headcases?---NO, I did not do this.

Instead, I walked behind a man from my improv class (There's some derogatory joke that can be made here, I KNOW it). I watched the back of his feet; an area I seldom focus my attention on when walking behind guys.

...

Um. Here's what normal standing legs look like, maybe:

His legs moved like this:

His feet, after taking a step, were pushed back and up in a DIAGONAL fashion. Stay with me, this is a riveting subject. Here's how I usually walk:

Somehow I managed to make taking a step seem like the most complex thing. That takes real effort

Me: foot, after taking a step, goes straight back and up, parallel to the other foot. Him, diagonal. Could this be it? The little quirk I've been missing from my walking repertoire? I tried it, and suddenly, hydraulics were in place. I was fucking GLIDING. Sure, at the moment it looks like some flowery figure skating move, but with patience and practice, it'll become subdued and natural.

No hope for the wrists.

(I'll talk about video games or movies next time, I swear)

*Staff writer may be ridiculously self-scrunitizing to the point of reliable insanity
**I know, the blog title says "Today," but I lost morale halfway through the blog and decided to lie on a couch for a week. Because, you know, this job is SO HARD

My bad, teenagers/most everyone else in the United States. I do not own a car. I had two. Messed up twice. I'm a bus man for life; life, for a young man, being roughly the next six to twelve months. Some slightly (read: not at all) interesting things happened on the bus that I'd like to discuss.

1) Muslim boob/infant lady

To my immediate right sat a woman with a shawl over her head and upper body, all Muslim-like. I eyed her for that succulent moment I afford to every low life bus occupant. Her allotted time was just about up until I noticed that SHE WAS HOLDING HER GIGANTIC CHILD-SIZED LEFT MAMMARY IN HER ARMS. And potentially her right, but I didn't see it directly, so I shouldn't go about making assumptions.

At least, I THINK it was a mammary. For all I know, it was just a child-sized child. Wrapped in the same material as her dress. With no visible head or limbs. Under her shawl, like a kangaroo womb or something. Before I could get a decent look at it, she covered her side-boob-like object with her shawl, dooming mankind's current chest weight records to remain unshattered for this given week. It very well could have just been a "child-sized-boob"-sized child, or any one of the following:

-Flexible beer belly with a disposition for high places
-A strange gas bubble phenomenon under her dress
-Woman's actually Mexican, is smuggling much tinier Mexicans under the guise of big-boobed Muslim chick (Genius, though smuggling them in there all the way up to Washington... little excessive)
-A plastic ball full of various nacho meals from Taco Bell

I can't confirm any of it. Except that trying to pick up some 40-something Muslim woman in high hopes of groping her potential back pain plantations would be awkward, out of the question, and God I hope I see her again.

2) Earphones dude missing half a nostril

This guy, late fifties I'd say, was to the left of me. I was wearing a shirt stating "I listen to bands that don't even exist yet." It's a Threadless tee (www.threadless.com), and I'm never buying a tee from them again because apparently it drives people to strike up a chat with me. He said he liked the shirt, and he likes music. That's fantastic sir, allow me to nod like an eager little idiot and spit poetry like "Yeah, music's good. I like music too." Somehow this lasted the entire bus ride. Since he was a perseverant conversational steamroller, he kept chugging right along, and I eventually found myself making eye contact with him. That was fine. Two inches south-by-southwest and WHAT THE FUCK YOUR NOSEHOLE IS MISSING... HOLE. The skin was a little warbled, like the skin had healed shakily. Seeing this on his face is, alone, enough to cause extreme dislike, but there's more. He talked in a steady, quiet manner, which is perfection on a city bus carrying next week's 7-11 burglars (I don't know, I guess I'm implying they're loud?). Throw in a crying baby and you know the situation's hopeless.

Alright, old guy speaks quietly, nothing too strange. But try and explain him wearing earphones, listening to show tunes or what have you, the whole time. People usually speak louder when listening to music, yes? If he was doing that, this guy MUST be a full-time mute in every other situation.

To wrap things up, the man said he rides the bus all the time, and I can bet my buckshot I'd see him again. Thus this will be the last time I come home, g'night all.

BONUS MATERIAL: I was looking up a new haircut online, and the corner of my eye spotted this picture of a statue. And for that instant, this picture looked like a gigantic distorted nipple (VERY distorted, obviously ethnic. This milky-coffee jamboree makes me think of young tan Ethiopian thangs. I must be breast-obsessed today). Squint, it's totally there.