On Bikers

So there are motorcycle "gangs" that hang out in Thayer Street. I say "gangs" because it's usually a gaggle of middle-aged stockbrokers and independent business owners attempting to compensate for their receding hairlines, expanding waistlines, and dependence on Viagra. They emerge at night, riding obviously expensive and obviously souped-up Harleys (God help you if you try parking a Japanese bike in their midsts) and just sit there, leaning on the wall of the Gap and the Java Grille and Wings to Go...doing nothing but checking out the competition. I occasionally feel like screaming at them "God, just pull out your dicks and measure them already!" but I feel like it'd be a waste of breath. Sometimes someone will jump on a bike and just rev it. A lot. For no reason whatsoever. When the spirit moves a few of them they'll jump on their bikes, ride down Thayer, down Waterman, and then...come back to Thayer again. Why? My nights are filled with the smell of exhaust and the roar of bikes going nowhere. In response, a pissed off student posted this idea at Brown's Daily Jolt, and I thought it was brilliant:

Okay, on a pre-arranged night, everyone who has a car parks it along Thayer at six or seven - well before the bikers arrive. We dress Great Gatsby style, listening to swing music coming out of our cars, swarming the sidewalk, and patronizing the local merchants. When the bikers come, Brunonia dressed to the nines will just glare at them, forcing them to choose another street for the night. For one night, if only one night, we will have taken back Thayer and shown the bikers who's boss. So, who's with me? Together, we can start the revolution to reclaim Thayer!

Only Brown students can be so hilarious and so completely lame at the same time.

Gifts

My dad's birthday is coming up soon, and I've been racking my brain trying to come up with some present for him. My problem is this: I usually end up giving people a present that I would want, not necessarily something that they'd be wild for. Story of my life. I've given friends and loved ones expensive music boxes, pricey figurines, and music kits and have been met with non-responses from them. At this point I'm not sure whether it's because I'm a self-centered prick or if I'm just horrible at reading people. I think it might be a little bit of both. Which also may explain why I have have so few friends (loved ones can't just up and leave when one's prickdom becomes clear). One year I put a lot of effort into getting mom a day at a spa for her birthday. I managed to get my uncle to get the same thing for my aunt as well (twins). I figured she'd like it because, hells, it's a spa day. A day of leisure and pampering. When I spoke to her about it afterwards, though (wasn't home to see her reaction on opening the envelope) she seemed...blah. Needless to say it popped my balloon. But it's the thought that counts, right? So why do I never seem to get anything in return in comparison to what I give? Wait. I *am* a selfish prick, aren't I? *sigh* Again, story of my life.

A Recommendation

I watched an indie film from 1996 called "Sweethearts" today, starring Janeane ("My Sister from Another Mother") Garofalo today. During the course of it I laughed like an idiot and cried like I haven't had in...two days. An excellent excellent film. Please log off of LJ now, hunt this film down, and watch it.