The Self-Sufficient pant

I'm not sure where sweatpants are ranked in the world of pants, but no matter where that may be – they are under rated. Even if they are rated number one.

"Number one? Come on. Who voted on this? They got robbed!"

For some reason, we are made to believe that there are only two types of people who wear sweatpants. Either really athletic people, who run all the time and go to the gym, or really obese, racist people, who run to buffets and work out at the gym of hate.

"Hey, you're wearing sweatpants. Do you try to keep in shape?"

"Shape? Do I look like I try to keep in shape? You don't need to be in shape to wave the confederate flag... You're only supposed to wave it three times anyway before you break into a coughing fit... right?"

Most people look at sweatpants as gross, disgusting pants that are only worn by huge, grossly obese people who love wrestling and racist comments.

"Hey! Slam that guy onto that dirty wetback while I drink forty-two ounces of Coke and crush these chili dogs! Ahhh! I think my heart just got put in a Sharpshooter! Ahhh!"

People also think of sweatpants as pants worn by personal trainers who haven't had an ounce of sugar in four years.

"I operate on a level of two percent body fat. If I reach anything higher or lower, I die. I also throw up pretty consistently when training people like you. What is your body fat level? Forty-two percent? Jesus... I can barely... stand... here... (<throws up>)."

"Do you have to throw up on the treadmill? I was going to run on that."

"You... run? (<throws up>)."

Everyone has a pair of sweatpants. Or at least they should. If you don't, here are some reasons why you might want to re-think that.

Sweatpants are amazing for long flights. You spend thirteen hours in a flying bus, pretty much stuck in a seat that a Chihuahua would feel claustrophobic in, there's someone always on an intercom telling you what you can and cannot do, so is this the time to get out clothes that are restricting?

"Honey, where's my tie? I'm about to get into a box and I want to look my best."

"Really? Are you dying? I know I'm going to die if I have to wait another day for you to fix the sink."

"Look, the water drains, okay? Just get off of my back. I'm flying and I want to be as uncomfortable as possible!"

"Uncomfortable? Why didn't you tell me? I'd love to help with that."

"Why are we still married?! This feels like the seat I'm about to sit in for half a day!"

If you are flying for a long time, you can try to look your best, but your face will look its worst half way through.

"Sir! Are you okay? From the neck down you look as though you are about to tackle a meeting. From the neck up you look like you are about to tackle a bed after drinking whiskey."

"Huh? Yeah. This flight is really hurting my fa... Really? You think I'll crush this meeting?"

"Sure. Just lead with your suit. Put your jacket over your head."

Sweatpants are also amazing for sitting at home. There is no reason to wear anything else in your house. Walking from room to room. Making food. Watching TV. What else would there be to wear in this situation?

"Man, I can't make chicken. My velour suit is filthy! Well, I guess I'm not eating."

Unless someone is coming over, there's no reason to have anything else on. And what if that person comes over in sweatpants!

"Hey, man. How are you?"

"I was good a minute ago when I thought we were hanging out. I wore sweatpants!"

"We're hanging out. What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? You're wearing jeans, man. Jeans! How can you really sink into a chair and enjoy Left 4 Dead in denim?"

"I was thinking about sitting erect."

"...I have never been so offended."

We have the ability right now to be comfortable when we want to be. We should take advantage of this as much as possible. Not a lot of other times in history has that been a thing. Pioneers, I bet, would have loved some sweatpants. After a long day of cutting down trees, hunting for food, building the place where they would sleep in. Do they really want to sit around a fire, drinking moonshine, wearing wool pants?

"Victor, you really shoed that horse properly today."

"Thank you. He kicked me half a dozen times, but I'm a man, and men at this point in history do not complain. Time to relax. We only have two hours until we have to get up and do it all again."

"Yes. I really wish I had something comfortable to sit in. After sixteen straight hours of work, these wool pants really do feel awful."

"Is that complaining I hear? Are you not a man?"

You can even use sweatpants to hold things. Hold things such as computers. Weird? Yes. I, though, for years, used sweatpants to wrap my laptop when I traveled. Why? Not sure. I didn't want to buy a computer case. So I didn't. I wrapped my computer in sweatpants, which was great for two reasons. One, my computer was safe. Two, I would have sweatpants when I got to wherever I was going.

"Huh, my computer still hasn't broken AND I have comfortable pants that wouldn't have fit in my luggage. Can people wear THEIR computer sleeves when they're are not holding a computer? I think not."

Sweatpants can also be tapered. Does anyone know how great this is? Tapering? So you don't walk on them? So that they don't fall down? It's great! You can't really have this on any other pants. I've seen them on jeans, but it looks strange.

"Why do your jeans hug your ankles like that?"

"Oh, they're tapered."

"... Are you going to run in your jeans?"

"What.?"

"Tapered pants are usually only tapered for athletic activities."

"Oh. Well. I did not know that."

Sweatpants are also pretty much the only pants that don't need a belt. They are a self-sufficient pant. Elastic waist, or better yet – a string you can tighten. They can be worn as soon as you get them. When you buy sweatpants, you are given everything you need with them. Regular pants are really no good without the accessory.

"Well, I just bought some pants. Now to put them on. Damn! I forgot to buy the other thing that is mandatory to have with these. I can't put a piece of string around my waist. People will think I'm crazy! If only it were socially acceptable to wear sweatpants to a funeral. Well, I guess I'll just have to pull my jacket down far, and keep my hands in my pockets so these pants don't fall down. Sorry, uncle Jerry. I tried."

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

No dads. It's a thing.

I grew up without my dad around. Not that he was around for a bit and then left, he was never there. I'm in that group of people that other people feel bad for. The group who is supposed to go to jail, not be able to walk around normally or be inherently good at rapping or playing basketball.

"Your turn to choose."

"All right. Out of who's left, who had a good family life?"

"Me, me! Mom and dad were around!"

"Cool. I want nothing to do with you. I'll take you, 'no dad'. You got something to prove. You'll try to dunk from half. Let's go."

Not having a dad has shaped me in ways that some people wouldn't be able to understand, good and bad, but it's something I would not change at all. And I would argue, that although it's not 'normal', there is nothing wrong with not having a dad.

Growing up, none of my friends had both parents. None. It was mostly no dads, or they were divorced, or their mom wasn't around. That's just the way that it was. I didn't feel it was weird then. Everyone around me had the same situation, so how could it bother me?

"I don't have a dad."

"Oh, yeah? Me neither."

"What the hell! You either? This is ridiculous! We need some dads around here. Where the hell did they all go?"

"Calm down, man. You were fine two seconds ago."

"Give us dads or give us death!"

"...Okay, that's a little far."

Only when I went to college did I find out that my life was 'strange'. Everyone there had their parents, or at least knew both of them, so my life was fringe to them. People didn't understand it.

"Whoa, you don't have a dad? Is that why you're going to college? So that you don't end up being a deadbeat like him?"

"Ummm, no. It's just something I wanted to do."

"Really? Wanted to do because your dad left and with that there was a huge hole in your chest that you have decided to fill with schooling?"

"…You had your dad, right?"

"I did!"

"So why are you here?"

"...I guess... I don't... know."

Honestly, it's weird to me to think about people having their dads. Since I didn't live that way, I don't get it. You mean, there were TWO people in your house who you had to run things past? That seems harder than my life.

"Hey, can I sleep at Chris' house?"

"Well, me and your dad will have to have a sit down, write out the pros and cons of your question, and decide from there. Right, Harry?"

"Right, Alice. I have a list already started. Pro: I like Chris. Con: you won't be here in the morning to do the dishes. Alice?"

"Con: I will miss you. Pro: it'll give me and your father a bit of time to still not have sex."

"Look, guys, your answer took way too long. I have already graduated college, and me and Chris stopped being friends years ago when he started dating my ex-girlfriend. I don't even live here anymore. I am here for Thanksgiving and you just gave me an answer to a question I asked fifteen years ago. Thanks."

Only having one parent? You don't have to worry about this.

"Hey, can I stay at Chris' house?"

"...You're home? Yeah, sure."

One thing about not having a dad is that every once in awhile I will see an article about single parents. I really dislike when people say that you can't raise a child with only one parent. It is said as if the people who were raised by only one parent can't hear them.

"You can't raise a kid with only one parent. Can't do it. Unless you want a mutant kid who doesn't understand anything in life."

This is only ever said by people who were raised by both parents. It's said by them because they can't picture life any other way. Of course they would say that! If you grew up a certain way, it just becomes normal to you.

"You can't raise a kid without a pool in the backyard. Are you serious!? I grew up with a pool! Having a pool was one of things that was a constant in my life. You can't raise a kid without a pool! I had a pool! What the hell?!"

It's weird that people will get sad if I talk about not having a dad, when no one really expects dads to stick around. Nobody. Most people just sort of assume that men will take off when they have a kid.

"I have something to tell you. I am pregnant. And I've locked the doors and windows so that you can't leave."

"What? That's great! I mean, that you're pregnant. Why would I leave?"

"Yeah, as if you care. Why would you leave? You just said 'leave'. The doors are locked, Steve, and you are raising this kid!"

"What the hell? I want to!"

"Want to leave? The doors are locked, Steve! Why would you do this to me? This is a beautiful moment!"

Dads are not allowed to say that they are around for that reason.

"I am in my children's lives."

"You are supposed to be! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"But so many men aren't! Isn't it good that I am?"

"No! You're just a piece of trash that didn't pull a piece-of-trash move. Hug that kid!"

Dads are held to a really high standard. Moms have a lot more leeway. Moms can mess up for years and still be loved. Dads get a lot less chances and then are written off.

"My dad? Terrible. He wouldn't even compliment me when I made a good catch. I hate him."

Moms are loved almost no matter what.

"My mom? Yeah. She was rough. Used to beat me with the crafts that I made in school. I love her, though. I mean, she brought me into this world. I can't forget that. Love you, mom. Think about you every time I see popsicle sticks."

I've noticed that people become weird when I talk about not having a dad. Why? Especially in 2012. Do you know how many people didn't have a dad and still did good things with their lives? Barack Obama, no dad. Bill Clinton, no dad. Jay-Z, no dad! One day, kids will be so pissed to have their dads. 

"What the hell are you doing here?! I wanted to be somebody! Thanks a lot, dad!"

I'm reminded sometimes why it's good not to have a dad. The guy at the bar wearing a hockey jersey, screaming about women and drinking gross beer? I don't want to be that guy! I guarantee you he has a dad. Guaranteed! He didn't learn to act that way from his mom.

"Yeah, my mom used to get me to stay up late and say derogatory things about women while drinking Coors and talking sports. She's a great mother. I'm gonna call that slut right now."

When I was young and I'd see Maury episodes where grown men would cry on TV about not having their dads, I never understood that. If he wasn't around at all, how can you be so upset by it? He was never there! You probably never had a unicycle either; there are no episodes about that.

"Everyone, meet Chris. Chris says that he loses sleep, can't work and can't handle himself in relationships due to the fact that he has never had a Super Soaker XXP 175."

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh."

"That's right, Maury. I mean, I was supposed to have one! Year after year, I waited for it to come. Year after year, I was disappointed."

"That's truly a sad story. But I have some good news. We hunted it down and brought it here. So here it is, Chris' Super Soaker XXP 175!"

"BOOOOOOooooooo!"

'Squirt, squirt, squirt, full water spray, pump up to 'look out', squirt, squirt, squirt."

"Where the hell have you been!? You couldn't even show up for one birthday? Couldn't spray once when I graduated high school? I needed you! Ahhhhhh!"

Now that I'm older, I get why he left. Nobody cares about dads. Only when they are not around. I saw a man get on the subway holding his baby. Holding it! No stroller, just holding it in his arms. Nobody moved to give him a seat. No one! 

"Yeah, how does that feel? The mother held him for nine months! You can hold him for nine stops."

I've seen women get on with strollers and people give them seats. Get right up. A man holding his kid without wheels? Nothing. I get why dads leave. I wouldn't be surprised if he walked away right there.

"No seats, huh? Fine!"

"Waaaahhhhaaa!"

"The baby's yours now, train! Hope he doesn't become a criminal."

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Professional Critics. You can be judged too.

For some reason, there are people who have been able to make a living by telling us what they think of stage shows, movies, and music. Professional critics don't do anything themselves, but are able to see talented people and shows for free and judge them on what they do.
"Welcome! Tickets are forty five dollars."
"Oh, actually, I don't pay. I will write about your show. Good or bad. Good chance of bad, better chance of a 'meh'."
"... Oh. 'Meh' is alright. Have a good night!"
These people spend their entire careers not creating anything, but writing about things that others have created.

Critics also have no discernible talents. None! They give nothing to the world but their opinions on what other people give to the world. In sports, there are old players and coaches who commentate or give their opinions on games. That makes sense. You know, people who have actually participated in the event having an opinion on the sport they are discussing? Why is that not the same for movies, music, and stage shows? The only people who should be able to talk about these things are the people who have done them. If Steven Spielberg starts writing articles about movies, those opinions would carry weight.

"This movie is AWFUL. It's shot terribly and the writing is bad. Do these actors even want to be here?! What credits do I have? Maybe you remember a little franchise entitled Back to the Future, Jurassic Park or Indiana Jones? If you don't, you should see this movie. You have never seen anything good, so you will love it."

You know why that doesn't happen? It's because that people who create are busy actually CREATING things for the world to see! They are creating! They don't have the time to give their opinions on other movies.

"Hey, Denzel, what do you think about Sean Penn's performance in his latest movie?"

"What?...How the hell did you get on the set?! You just ruined this scene! Are you insane?! Fuck Sean Penn. I'm working!"

How can being a professional critic be a job? With social media the way that it is, how can you get paid for your opinion when you don't do anything? I could see the usefulness of this job if critics were the only ones who had the power of opinion. You know, if opinions were something only certain people were born with and not something that EVERYONE has?

"Hey, man. What did you think of that?"

"Ah, I can't put it into words. I wasn't born with the natural ability to have thoughts about things."

"Oh, I was. I thought it was mediocre."

"Whoa! How did you do that?! It would have taken me WEEKS to do that. I'd have to ask others, take polls, read up on it. But you? Wow. So quick. You should do this for a living."

I don't care what anyone says – these people, when bashing movies, music, actors or any people who actually do things that take talent, are professional bullies. They are making money by bashing others. Then, funnily enough, they have the audacity to come out and speak out against a bullying case that makes the news.

"We have to stop bullying. This is just ridiculous. Also, you should read my article about why everyone on the X Factor deserves to be broke and dead. Stop bullying, guys. It's just disgusting."

It's hard to tell kids to stop bullying when you can get paid for it.

"Kids. Don't bully people."

"But you bully people all the time. You say they're trash, what they are doing with their lives is terrible, and that they don't deserve any recognition at all. AND you get paid to do it! Why shouldn't I call Sarah a piece of garbage?"

"Well, because Sarah didn't make an album that was a cancer on this world, did she? No. If she does, though, THEN it's okay to say she is awful. Do you understand? People who are just living are not allowed to be made fun of. But if they try to do what they want to do with their lives, then you can say whatever you want about them and it's fine!"

"Oh, I get it! Well, Sarah sang the school's anthem at a basketball game the other day and I didn't think it was as good as Jessica. Can I make fun of her now?"

"Make fun of her? You're allowed to write things that will make her cry. Go ahead, kid. And if it's REALLY hilarious, I'll give you a hundred dollars."

This is why some critics become so vicious. The only professional critics who become well known are the ones who completely destroy the things that they critique.

"This is the worst thing I have ever seen! Everyone involved with this project should be boiled in acid, then thrown onto the L.A. freeway during rush hour."

My favorite thing about when that happens is that this person, who does nothing but critique things, walks into the spotlight as if they have done something! They'll hang out with the people who they destroyed in their articles.

"Hey, Madonna! Remember when I said you were an old whore? Well, that got me invited to stand beside you on a carpet! Just want to let you know, I'm a huge fan."

Professional critics are supposed to be taken seriously because what they have to say has been printed. Usually, though, they have cartoonish-ly ridiculous rating systems. Rarely is it simply, "This is good" or "Hey, I thought it wasn't put together well!" Most times it has to be some over-the-top chart, measuring stick, or a scale with one to ten of something that doesn't make any sense.

"I give this three CDs out of a possible box set."

"No way. It wasn't THAT good. I give it twenty-three fries out of a full bag."

"Only twenty-three fries out of a full bag? You're kidding me, right? Did you even watch it?"

"Did you? No way it's higher than fifty six yards out of a possible foot ball field."

"What? Are you crazy?! It's at least three salt shaker shakes out of a out of a possible 'guy-with-a-sodium-problem'."

"You've got to be kidding me! I'd give this movie two Beatle's legs out of a full insect."

"...Hmmm. Are we talking beetle?"

"Of course."

"Now THAT I can agree with."

These opinions are supposed to have any weight? We are supposed to take these seriously? No one else could do this.

"Hello. I'd like to take out a loan."

"Hmm, I'm sorry, sir. Your financial situation is three mozza sticks and a jalapeno popper out of a platter."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means on a scale of toast and butter to Denny's Grand Slam breakfast, your money is a half a bowl of soggy Shreddies."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have enough money, all right? It's an insult for you to come in here and ask for a loan. It's like a kid asking for a cell phone."

"Ohhh... why didn't you just say that?"

Why would anyone listen to these people? They are you! They are me! They ain't nobody! Why would anyone listen to his or her critiques of movies? Is it because they've watched a lot? Who hasn't!

"I've seen a TON of movies and that gives me the right to make money off of these statements. This movie sucks. Give me money!"

"I thought that movie sucked. Do I get money?"

"No! Because you didn't write a catty article about it, saying that the actors in this movie should quit and die, and have it posted in a magazine without my picture on it because I'm a big man. You didn't do that, did you? No. I get paid!"

You can only do this from behind closed doors. You could never just do it at the theatre.

"Hmmm, I left the theatre and didn't completely feel that I had a good time. I have to tell others in this theatre. 'Hey, I didn't like this movie!'

"You think I care, buddy? Shut the hell up."

"Whoa. That didn't work. I know, I'll go home, write about my feelings, and send it out faceless-ly across the net. THAT'S how you get people to pay attention to you."

The people who the professional critics critique are in the public eye. We know what they look like and we know things about their lives. Do we know a lot about critics? Are we privy to any aspects of their lives? Nope. None.

"Hello, here are things I think about other humans. You want to know about me? Nonsense. I am ambiguous. Why? It's because I do not want myself out there to be judged the way that I judge others. What am I, crazy?"

I think it would be great if there were critics who got paid to critique critics.

"Oh, yeah, nice review of Piranha: 3 Double D. Of course it wasn't as good as Amistad! It's not supposed to be! It's fun! Does EVERYTHING have to be an Oscar contender?"

I forgot. This does happen. The only difference is – it's all of us, and we do not get paid for it.

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Halloween and horror movies.

When I was a kid, I hated Halloween. Didn't like any of it. I didn't like feeling pressure to have a good costume. Then, when you got one, having to wear a winter jacket over it so you wouldn't freeze to death walking from house to house asking for candy.

"Trick or treat!"

"Ooohhh. What are you supposed to be?"

"Freezing! Give me the candy so I can put my hands back in my pockets. Really? A handful of candy corn? You ever eat one of these? Thanks for nothing."

I also never really liked the Halloween parades. Remember the Halloween parades? When you had to bring your Halloween costume to school and walk around the gym in the circles while people look at you?

"Hey, kids, you know how being twelve sort of makes you feel that you don't want to be put on display? Well, tomorrow, you have to dress up in your Halloween costume and walk around in circles with your peers! And if you don't dress up, you can sit on the stage and be looked at by all of the people who DID dress up. See you tomorrow, young fragile egos!"

Also, since I brought it up – candy corn is awful. There is no way that should have been given to kids. It should be used to wake up people who have been knocked out.

"What are you doing out there, kid?! You're getting your head punched off!"

"Sorry, coach. I can't see anything."

"Damn it! You need your eyes, kid! Here, have one of these."

"...What the hell was that?!"

"Candy corn, kid. Candy corn! Get it in ya!"

"It's the worst thing I've ever tasted!"

"But how ALIVE do you feel! Take out that awful taste on that tomata across the ring, kid! RUN OVER HIM!"

It should be on the list of things to stay away from during Halloween.

"Parents, be warned to check apples for razor blades, unwrapped candies for poison, and candy corn. If you find an apple with a razor blade in it, take the razor blade out and enjoy the apple. If you are given candy corn, throw it away instantly, and alert the authorities to the whereabouts of the inhuman person handing that to your children."

"Arrested for what?! All I did was hand out delicious candy corn!"

"Admitting to the crime, huh? Oh, you're done, buddy. Handing it out to children. Kids! You disgust me."

Candy corn was not wrapped. No wrapping at all! People would just have it loose in bowls in their house. It was dropped into your bag uncovered, by a hand that was also uncovered.

"Here you go, kids. Here is some unpackaged candy from a stranger."

"Well, did you at least wash your hands? I know it's the 90s, but still."

"Wash my hands? You knock on my door for free candy and you have the audacity to ask me if my hands are washed?! Leave right now, before I take the eggs you were going to throw at my house when I close the door, and egg you in the middle of the street."

I didn't like Halloween either because I didn't like being scared. And I got really scared as a kid. When I was about five, I walked out of my room one night and snuck into the living room. My mom was watching 'Child's Play'. I watched some of it, the possessed doll Chucky murdering people, and was horrified. Not that this doll was killing people, just the disgusting, angry look he had on his face when he did it. Once I saw that movie, I was too scared to be in a room alone. I would follow my mom everywhere.

"Mom! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the kitchen. It's right there. We live in an apartment. You can see me."

"Don't go! I'll be murdered if you go!"

"There is no way you'll be murdered without me knowing. Look, I'm six steps away! Chucky would have to be the greatest ninja who ever lived to murder you in front of me without my knowing."

"Agh! Chucky's a ninja? I'm dead!"

I had nightmares about that movie for years. In one of them, I'm in the passenger seat of a car with my mom. She goes into a store and leaves me there. I turn to look at the car beside me, and at that same time, Chucky is in the other car turning towards me. We look at each other, and both scream. Then I would wake up. That scared the hell out of me! I told someone that when I was in grade four, I think, and they didn't see the problem.

"Maybe you just saw your reflection. You know you do look like Chucky, right?"

"How do I look like a murderous doll!? I'm a human being!"

"A human being with red hair. Chucky has red hair. Do you see? Come to think about it, you're scaring me."

Now, though, I love Halloween. I've seen too many horror movies to count. Horror is one of the best genres that there is. Why? Because they either scare you which is fun, or they are so ridiculous that it's laughable, which is even more fun.

"Whoa! That demon just got an apartment to be closer to the person it wants to torture. Why in the hell would a superintendent rent to a demon? That is hilarious!"

There's no real genre that gives you two chances to be completely entertained. What other genre can offer you that? If a drama isn't engaging, it's never hilarious.

"Man, this movie about a woman's journey from being cheated on by her lawyer husband to leader of a corporate empire is really not told well. The scenes of her crying are pretty funny, though. Good thing there are a ton of those."

The acting in horror movies doesn't matter at all. If the actors are bad, whatever, the movie will just be funny. For some reason, it's just horror movies and porn that can be filmed with people who couldn't deliver a line on their best day.

"Okay, so in this next scene, you have sex with your entire temp agency."

"Gotcha. So my motivation is that I'm a hotshot business exec who has balls of steel. Is there an acting coach on the set? I want to be believable."

"Believable? Do you have a dick? That's all we need from you. We will have one shot of your face. Your line is, 'Hey, if we don't crack a window, I'll have to take my pants off.' Actually, we just had a re-write. You don't say anything. Not with words, anyway. Let your dick do the talking... You do have a dick, right? This will be in a COMPLETELY different section if you don't."

I have honestly never laughed harder than I have at horror movies. A lot of horror movies are funnier than comedies that come out.

"This summer, the funniest movie you've seen in years. 'Cheerleaders From Hell Murder Single Mothers With Their Own Children'! It's a laugh-a-minute riot!"

'Saw' was probably the funniest movie that came out in 2004. The overacting, the ridiculous camera angles. It was hilarious! What was funnier that year? Shrek 2? The Incredibles? No way.

"And the award for Best Comedy goes to... Saw?"

"Thank you, thank you. You know, when our lead actor delivered the line 'If I don't get to a hospital, I'm doing to bleed to death!' in the ridiculous over-the-top way that he did while holding his foot that had been "cut off" as you could CLEARLY see his foot under a cloth? I knew we had this award in the bag."

I went to see 'Saw' in a theatre and during the movie people started laughing. The entire theatre chuckling except for one guy, who literally yelled, "Hey! I'm into this!" I have NEVER heard a theatre laugh so much after him yelling that out. To this day, when I think of that man yelling, "I'm into this!", I laugh, because I would love to know the rest of that guy's night.

"Guys, you really have to see 'Saw'. It's so scary! The other three hundred idiots in the theatre didn't think so. They laughed through it! I must have been in the only theatre with a bunch of Jeffrey Dahmers. How could you laugh at that? A guy has to cut his foot off! Man, horrifying. Hey, don't change that commercial. I'm into it!"

Twitter @Nathanmacintosh

The Wedgie: An introspective

There comes a time when everyone has to reflect. Everyone has to take a look back on their life and think, "What are some things that have shaped me? What are some things that have made me… me?" Recently, while thinking back, I remembered an incident in my life that was an eye opener for me. Well, I shouldn't say I 'remembered'. It's not really something that can be forgotten. The incident made me understand that we are fragile creatures, susceptible to all kinds of nature's wraths. The day I am referring to is the day that I was given... a wedgie.

Yep. A wedgie. It happened. Full on happened, when I was in grade five. I should give some background on me at that time. When I was a kid, I was picked on a lot. I get why. I was really keen about school, my hair was always parted, my clothes were terrible, and I was really shy. I always had to be early for school. Always. I would get up early, get all of my stuff together, then just sit by the door and worry that I was going to be late. I would cry to my mom until she took me.

"Mom! I have to go to school! I'm gonna be late!"

"What? It's six thirty in the morning! School doesn't start until eight and I'm driving you there!"

"I need to be there! I'm gonna be late!"

"Jesus Christ. Fine. I'll take you now. The school is ten minutes away. You're gonna be an hour and a half early. That's what you want? You got it!"

Most time, I was at school before the teachers were. Teachers would show up and I would be standing outside.

"Nathan? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"No. I just didn't want to be late."

"Late? You don't have to be here for an hour!"

"I thought I would be late. I'm an anxious kid!"

"...Wow. If I were your age, I wouldn't even be here. I don't want to be here now, but they pay me. Actually, I don't get paid to come in early. Yeah, what the hell am I doing here! Thanks for the talk, Nathan. I'm going home."

That part hasn't changed. To this day, I hate to be late. I really dislike it. Just know that if we are ever supposed to meet, and you say seven, I'm there at six thirty. That is a fact about me. I'll show up, look at where I'm supposed to meet you, and then walk around for a bit and still get there before you.

"Huh, they're not here, probably because they said they'd be here a half hour later than now. Guess I'll walk around and try to make it seem as if we showed up at the same time."

Not only were my clothes terrible, I was always really worried about not doing well in school, and I was horrified to be late, I used to cry all the time as well. Yeah. I wasn't really giving kids a reason not to pick on me. Cry about anything and everything.

"Nice hat!"

"Ahh, come on, man! Sniff Sniff. It's all that I have!"

I remember one time in grade two I cried because a guy made fun of me for not being able to open a Handi-Snack. I kept trying to open it and the wrapper kept falling down. A kid who was probably in grade five walked by and made fun of me.

"Oh, can't open it, huh? Ohhhhh!"

And he kept doing the action that I was doing – opening and re-opening the wrapper! I dropped the Handi-Snack and ran home. Ran home and cried! If I had this me as a kid, it would be hard to care after awhile.

"You're crying, again? About what? A Handi-Snack this time? Jesus. You want to get these culprits back? Tell them that hanging out with you is like always watching the saddest parts of Titanic on a loop. That'll make them cry."

So now you have a little back-story on how I was as a kid. Grade five. The day of the wedgie. On this faithful day, I was walking to school. There was a path behind my house that was called the 'power lines', basically because it had power lines on it. We were pretty clever.

"Hey, you guys want to go the store?"

"You mean the 'product-selling building'?

I was walking and I ran into five of the cool guys from school. You could always tell who the cool kids were in the 90s. The cool people all wore Starter jackets. Remember in the early 90s when Starter jackets were the greatest things on the planet? This was before hipster kids who weren't cool enough to wear them in the 90s started to wear them.

"I found it for forty dollars. Isn't it cool? No, the suspenders didn't come with it. I bought these separately."

In the 90s, if you had a Starter jacket, the world – at school – opened up to you. People opened doors, held your book bag, did your tests for you.

"No, thank you Mr. Starter jacket, man! Just to be close to you gives me the feeling that, one day, I too can be cool."

"Shut up, loser."

"You got it, Mr. Starter jac... Ow! Great jab."

So the cool Starter jacket kids saw me. They looked at their jackets, looked at mine, and saw that I was not wearing what it took to hang out with them.

"Hey, his jacket doesn't have an S with a star on it. Ours do!"

"Hey... you're right. That's a different jacket! Oh, man. I pray for these days!"

Once they figured this out, they started calling me names.

"Nathan... Nathan! Where are you going, Naaaaathan?!"

Okay, they weren't really 'names', but I was an anxious nervous kid! Also, you had to hear their tone. Their tone? Their tone implied that they wanted me to feel bad. You don't say someone's name with about eight extra a's if you want them to feel good about themselves. For some reason, that makes people feel dumb.

"Hey, Staaaaarbucks, guy. Can I have a tall mild?"

"What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing? I'm just working here to further my photography career! Why do you have to mock me? Why!"

One of the Starter jackets was an old friend of mine. We went to daycare together. Actually, one time, I went to his house when we were in grade four. He literally kicked his grandmother in the stomach and power-bombed her onto a bed when she asked him if he wanted butter on this toast.

"You want butter?"

"Butter? It's on!"

I thought that was a moment, but was he going to help me? Nope. He saw his opportunity to hang out with the cool people. He had already bought the jacket, so he couldn't stick up for someone like me.

"Guys, let's leave him alone. He saw me put wrestling moves on my grandmother."

"...What? Are you sticking up for a guy who doesn't have one of these balling-ass jackets? Wow. Tear the S off of that, man. You don't deserve it."

"But... guys... you know me. I listen to Tupac. I wear the jacket. I'm cool!"

"I said rip it off! Starter would be disgusted by you."

The Starter jacket guys started running after me. I didn't think they wanted to do anything good when they caught up to me, so I took off into the woods to hide from them. I ran for a bit and lost them! I was sitting there, thinking that they were stupid and couldn't find me, and then I remembered that I had to go to school. I was going to be late!

"No, I can't be late! I'll be a complete failure at life!"

So I left my hiding spot, and starting running to school, crying the whole way.

"I'm gonna be late! I'm gonna be late and as soon as I get to school these guys are going to beat me up! Why would anyone put a ten year old through this!?"

I got to school, and realized that I was there before the bell. Perfect, I was on time, and these guys are nowhere in sight! I did it. Just then, over the hill, there they came. Running and laughing because they knew what they were going to do.

"Told you'd he be at school! That's where nerds go. School! The place that we have to go but don't want to go!"

These Starter jackets guys came running down the hill toward me. I didn't know what they had in mind, but I knew it wasn't good. I knew it was not something I was going to like. I knew that it wasn't going to be playing pog.

"Why'd you run, man? We just wanted to see if you wanted to play for slammers. And to start you off, we were going to give you ten for free!"

I was prepared for something, but not what happened. They grabbed my underwear and lifted me over their heads. Over! I was in the air, yelling something that I don't remember, looking down at my old friend wearing his Starter jacket.

"But, why? I saw you jackknife your grandmother. I didn't tell your mom! I didn't try to stop you! We went to daycare together. Why?!?"

"You ever try on one of these jackets?"

"No, actually. Are they comfortable?"

"More comfortable than being lifted in the air by your Fruit of the Looms."

"Haha. Oh, you're right about that. Ah, man. Good one."

I was hoping that the underwear would break so that I would fall. Didn't even kind of happen. These must have been the strongest underwear in the world.

"Mom, thanks a lot. These underwear you bought me don't break."

"Oh, that's good to know. I'll get some more."

"It's not good to know when you're being held in the air by them! I need underwear that can break, dammit! I need underwear that tears apart like Hulk Hogan's shirts!"

"Nathan, you know I can't afford to buy you Hulk Hogan underwear. I'll keep getting the 'wouldn't-break-if-two-trucks-pulled-on-them' kind."

"That's it! I'm not wearing underwear anymore!"

Finally, they just put me down. I don't remember why. Probably because it stopped being fun once they realized that they weren't going to be able to rip me in half.

"Didn't you guys think this would split him in half like Baraka from Mortal Kombat?"

"Yeah, man! I've been playing a ton of that game. That's what I had in mind."

"This isn't a fatality at all. More like a bore-ality. This sucks."

The people around who were watching got bored and I was just put down. It took me a few minutes to straighten out my underwear, and that got the audience to watch again.

"Hey, look at this. The guy who was in the air by his underwear now has to straighten that underwear out. Oh, man. That's great... Well, I'm done. Anybody have any Gushers?"

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

The first Obama/Romney debate.

The presidential debates have started. The time when the president has to take time out of running a country to debate a man who wants to take his place. I do not watch reality. I watch these. These are the best reality shows there are. Why? It's because the votes here are for all the marbles, unlike other shows where you vote to see who will win a singing contest or who will eat a June bug.

"Man, I HATE Jason. I'm gonna vote twice for him to have to drink battery acid. That'll teach you, you 'I-love-my-wife-and-kids' piece of trash! Take that family-loving-shit to the OWN network!"

I watched the first debate the other night and here are some of my thoughts on it.

My first thought was – did Mitt have a bet with someone that he could say 'middle class' more times than George Bush said 'freedom'?

"Hey, how many times did Bush say 'freedom' during his presidency?"

"Jesus, I don't know. It'd be easier to tell you how many M&M's are in a gallon jug. Millions?"

"Huh. I bet you I can beat that."

"Sorry, what?"

"I can say 'middle class' more times than he said 'freedom'. Wanna bet pink slips?"

"...Mitt, Jesus... why? This isn't The Fast and the Furious. Plus, middle class people get offended when you say middle class. You have maids, Mitt! Maids! Your name is Mitt! You don't have any idea about the middle class! Your first name is Willard!"

"Hell, middle class. I love middle class more than I love middle class. Middle class? Middle class, middle class. Middle!"

"Mitt, please, tell me you're getting those out now before this debate begins."

"I'd middle love class to, but I'm middle just getting class started."

Everyone has been talking about Barack not really showing up. Barack did act as if he wasn't focused, or at least as though he was tired. Nobody brought up the fact that it was his twentieth anniversary of his marriage to Michelle, though. Michelle and Barack seem to be crazy in love. He was probably tired because he was up all night.

"Michelle, I'd... love to have sex... with you... one more time. But... as you know... I... have a presidential debate... ah,... tomorrow. So... in the best interest of that... annnnd to take my opponent seriously... I believe... I should... drink some water... annnnd get some sleep. I hope that... on our twentieth anniversary... that making love nineteen... ah, times... will suffice."

"Barack, Mitt isn't a problem. Come back to bed."

"Well, it seems as though... new facts... have ahhh, come to light. And with these... new developments, I will, ahhh, get back into bed... annnnd deliver... on this twentieth time."

It had to have something to do with their anniversary. Either having sex or arguing all night about the date it fell on.

"Michelle, now I know... we've been married... for twenty years. Annnd as much as I... would love to take you to dinner... oooor a show... I have... a very important debate... to attend."

"I can't believe this, Barack! We only have one twentieth year anniversary. One! How can you spend it arguing with a soulless white man on national TV!?"

"Michelle... now you know... I love you... annnd the twenty years... we've spent together. But... I have to debate... this soulless man. I have to... be wide awake... annnnd alert. Can we possibly... talk about this... ah... tomorrow?"

"Oh, no, Barack. We canNOT talk about this tomorrow. We will talk about it right now! I don't care if you look like you had a twelve-hour lay over in Dubai! We're gonna talk this out NOW!"

Also, during the debate, why do the debaters not directly address each other? Why? Out of respect? Isn't it much more respectful to address the person you are talking about if they are in the room, much less standing next to you, AND you are debating them?

"Under the president's policies, we are floundering."

"What do you mean 'under the president's policies'? I'm right here! Look me in the face and say, 'Because of YOUR policies. I ain't in the next room. Say it to my face, Mitt!"

Why not address each other? It would be ridiculous if they did this in any other part of their lives.

"Dinner's ready!"

"Well, because of my wife's cooking, the pot roast is burnt. I just don't think her recipe for such a dish is up to par with others on the market."

"I'm in the kitchen with you, Mitt! Can you not just address me? I can't stand this anymore! I know you are getting ready for your debate, but talk to me when you're talking to me! And last night's, 'I just don't think my wife's sexual intercourse is as much on her mind as the families laundry' is not cute. You know we wear clothes once and then throw them in the trash, pouring gasoline on them so that disgusting poor people can't reuse them, Mitt. You know that!"

Once the debate was over, people freaked out about both men lying.

"He lied this many times!"

"Yeah, well, YOUR guy lied this many times!"

As if that's supposed to be something. They're both not going to tell the full truth! That is how this whole thing is done. They can't just be up there telling you everything. That wouldn't be a presidential debate. It would be an episode of Jersey Shore.

"Governor Romney, what are your views on the poor?"

"Poor? 'BEEP' the poor! Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, that is if you have any, you broke pieces of trash. Jesus, is it THAT 'BEEP'ing hard to make two hundred million dollars? The only time I let poor people around me is when I'm paying my 'BEEP'ing gardener, and even then I tell him to go to the end of the driveway, and I shoot his cheque at him from a t-shirt gun. Poor. Please. Get the 'BEEP' out of here."

Personally, I love some of the lies. Especially the stories that each man told about poor, sad women running up to them. They were just these ridiculously sad stories of downtrodden people who came up to them to get the crowd on their side.

"Just yesterday, a woman grabbed my arm and said, 'I have cancer in all of my arms, both of my hands are mechanical, and I am currently on fire. Can you help me?' And the answer is yes, I can help, if I become president. Stay alive long enough to vote and I'll throw some water."

If these actually do happen, why only tell the sad stories? People must not always have sad things to say when they come up to presidential candidates.

"Just yesterday, a woman grabbed my arm and said, 'Hey, there's something in your teeth'. It's that kind of everyone-looking-out-for-everyone America that I want to live in. Vote for me and we'll ALL know when there are things in our teeth."

One thing about the debates that is crazy to me is the fact that they will cut off a third of the president and his opponent onscreen to show you jokes that people have tweeted. Are you serious? Tweets! Over the lower half of a man who is in charge of America and trying to tell you how he is going to run the country for the next four years.

"Let's talk about taxes here for a second. First, I think we need to... wait... what the hell is this? Are you cutting me off to show the tweet of someone from Idaho who's saying that he thinks this debate is less entertaining than a re-run of Captain Planet? What the hell are we doing here! I'm the damn president! I have to deal with this garbage. Am I a 

Kardashian? Is this 'Dancing with the Presidential Debaters'? No! Treat us with some kind of respect!"

In a country that would do this, who cares who is in control? Give it to Romney. Give it to a dishwasher or a Wendy's drive-thru employee. Give it to a tweeter! Funniest tweet about the debater's ties gets you the position of leader of the free world!

"Oh, look at this! Someone made a joke about how this debate is scarier than the movie Paranormal Activity! Why do we show this? It's because this whole damn thing is a joke anyway! Congrats to @wheresmycheerios, you're now in the most powerful position on the planet! Retweet with the hashtag #wanttolendusmoney to help lower the deficit."

Showing tweets during a presidential debate. I bet they wouldn't do that if it were the head of Apple and the head of Samsung debating.

"Are you kidding me? I don't care what @heartcats has to say about the Galaxy 3! Men are talking! This is very important! Whoever wins this debate will determine who – in my circle of friends and thusly me – are complete losers. Go, head of the company whose phone I bought!"

I know that it's fair, but it's funny to me that they decide who speaks first in a presidential debate the same way they determine who goes first in a rap battle. A coin toss. A coin toss to see who speaks first in a debate to see who will be leader of the free world. Who does that coin toss?

"All right, we're gonna do a coin toss to see who will call the other man gay in rhyme form a million times first."

"...What? That's not gonna happen here. This is a presidential debate!"

"Oh, right! Wrong event. I'm doing a coin toss across town at a rap battle after this. Okay, so which one of you fruits wants to call it?"

This is a big deal, so this coin is probably thoroughly inspected. Where does it come from? Is it brand new? It can't just be one from somebody's pocket?

"Coin toss? All right. Let me see what I have here. I've got a nickel from 1984. Will that do?"

"No, no. We need a quarter. I have one right here."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. A Romney quarter? That's not fair. We need a quarter that neither candidate has touched. What about the moderator?"

"NOPE."

"Fine, I'll call the mint and get them to print a fresh one. But this is ridiculous. I have a nickel right here."

"Drop the nickel, okay?! Just drop it!"

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Laguardia. The little airport that could.

I have lived in New York for about a year and I fly in and out of it a decent amount. Anytime I can, I fly out of LaGuardia airport. It is so close that if it expanded, my house could potentially become a terminal.

"Whoa! What are you guys doing in my shower?"

"Well, technically you are in our shower. We have expanded to include the surrounding neighborhoods. Would you like to check in to your flight?"

"I'm not flying today."

"Well, check in for the next one! You probably don't need to. Now that I've seen you naked, I know it's you."

I think that's pretty great. Others, though, really cannot stand this airport.

People trash LaGuardia all the time. In May, it was actually ranked the worst airport in America. The worst! People tore it apart.

"It's dirty!"

"The ceilings are low!"

"It's too small!"

I absolutely love this airport. For many reasons, really. One reason – it is a ten-dollar cab ride from my house. Ten dollars! From an airport! 'Does he live in a terminal,' you ask? 'Is he a baggage handler who sleeps underneath one of the carts at night,' you wonder aloud?

"Well, I'm done for the day, boss. I'm going to curl up here on the jetway and get some shuteye."

"Go ahead. You've earned it. Wait, how have you found a way to sleep with all of these planes landing directly beside you?"

"I just try to picture myself dead. Works most of the time."

No. LaGuardia airport just happens to be in Queens, not far at all from where I live in Astoria. I like it because there is no way I will live this close to an airport again. Never. Unless one day, I move to Mexico to sell drugs and have my own airstrip on my property.

"Ah, my own airport. You know, this reminds me of the time I spent in New York. I lived really close to an airport."

"As close to this one, boss?"

"Who told you to speak to me! I am a drug kingpin and you are merely a man who moves suitcases from one spot to another. I will cut your head off! I will blow up your family! I will rain BULLETS UPON YOUR DREAMS! ...I'm sorry. I just have to practice being a druglord. You know how it is. Only my third week. But to answer your question, yes. Yes, it was this close."

In May, there was a poll on "The Ten Worst Airports in America". What was number one? LaGuardia. But the top five included EVERY airport in New York. All three airports made the top five. Basically, if you want to fly to New York, just don't. Drive, get a bus, hike, walk, ride a horse, crawl. Apparently ANYTHING is better than landing here.

"Where are you flying?"

"New York."

"Yikes! Hope it's not into any of the airports."

"Well... yeah, of course it is. Where else would it land?"

"Whoa! That's awful! Landing at an airport in New York? Bud, if you can, right before the plane lands, jump out. The pain you feel when you hit the tarmac will be less than the pain you feeling having to wait an extraordinary amount of time for your bag. Trust me. I waited there a month ago. The whole time, all I could think was, "I'd rather have cracked my head on the runway than wait for my own stuff."

I'm honestly not sure why it matters that much how good an airport is. Do planes land there? Will the plane that I'm on let me get off of it at this particular location? What else is there?

"It's not clean."

How long are you going to be spending in this airport? If it were great, would you just hang out there?

"I'm kinda hungry."

"Me too. You want to head to the gorgeous food court at the airport?"

"The airport? Why would we go out there?"

"Man, have you been there!? It's amazing! So many food options. It's really the only place I eat since they fixed it up. Oh, and the shopping? Unbelievable. They truly have the best selection of Lacoste polos in the city."

"...You don't wear Lacoste polos."

"Not the ones found out in these dirty streets! But the ones from the airport? They're something else."

LaGuardia is a small airport, but I don't know why that's a problem for people. You can still fly out of it. It's not as if you show up and hope that your plane will be leaving.

"I have a flight out of LaGuardia. It's so tiny that they draw numbers to see which planes will be flying out. I hope to JESUS they draw mine this time. Come on, six!"

You are still able to get out of the airport. You can still fly! Why does it matter that it's small?

"Man, what an inconvenience. This airport is so small; I can get directly to my gate in four minutes. That's ridiculous! I want to have to drag my bag through the airport, past the little mall that most other airports have. This airport doesn't even have an L.L. Bean store that I can walk by and think, 'Who the hell would shop at the airport?' Why take that joy away from me, LaGuardia? Why!?"

LaGuardia airport feels homey. It's almost as if you are landing in your grandmother's house. It's small enough that it feels as if it's hugging you when you land there. The ceilings are just as low and it's starting to fall apart just like your grandmother's.

"Watch out for the crown molding, honey. Last night a tile fell off and hit me right in the face! Blew my dentures right out. I laid on the floor for an hour before I was able to get up. Either way, would you like a cookie?"

The bigger an airport gets, the more completely useless things appear in it. A lot of airports are too big and just end up having a ton of things in them that you don't need.

"You know, we have four hundred gates here, but I'm thinking that we are missing something."

"I was thinking the same thing. …I know! What about a barber shop?"

"Yeah, that's great! For people who have layovers that are three days long, they can keep their hair looking great!"

"Exactly! And what about a tire rotation and oil change booth?"

"I love it! For the people who drive to the airport to park and fly. Before they leave, they can get a check-up on their car while they wait for their bags!"

"Right! Oh, oh. And what about a delivery room for women who just land and are tired of carrying around that bothersome baby?"

"Dear, God! This is going to be the biggest, best airport in the world!"

People talk badly about airports as if everything is completely fine with the planes. Too small, no leg room, people in front of you couldn't care less if you have knees after the flight and will lean their chair right into your face.

"Excuse me, do you mind not looking me in the eyes? I know I'm in your lap, but I paid for this seat and all of the leaning back it can do."

Why, though, are we so worried about the place the plane lands when the device that flew us to this location is not great? If you rented a car that was terrible to drive to Buffalo, you can't JUST be mad at Buffalo when you get there.

"This car had no room for me to put my stuff, I had to pay extra just to be able to roll down the windows and be comfortable, and it was RUDE to me the entire way. Man, I'm going to take all of this anger out on the place the car took me. Buffalo! Here I come, you garbage city. I hate everyone who lives here, and your ridiculous questions like, "Man, it must be cold in Canada, huh? Like the ice ages." You can see Canada! You see any Mastodons walking around over there! God, I hate this place."

Also, flights to LaGuardia actually end up where they say they are going. In New York. LaGuardia is actually IN New York. That's a big one for me. An airport that is where it says that it is. If you are flying from Canada with Porter, they will tell you they fly to New York.

"New York? Of COURSE we go there! Why would we not fly to the greatest city on earth? You can't be an airline and not fly to such a tourist destination."

But they do not fly to New York. Nope. Where do they land? Newark, New Jersey. Admittedly, New Jersey is not insanely far from New York, but it is New Jersey. New York? No. No, it is not. It is the state beside New York. They fly into a different state! Not only do they not fly into New York City, they don't even land in New York state! The entire state – they don't touch it. New Jersey is a completely different place, with different laws. One law that's different in New Jersey is that you need a state permit to purchase a long gun. New York? Not at all. You can walk right in and get one.

"Where's my permit? Hey, eat it, buddy. I was almost pissed on three times on the way over here by people who thought I was a unicorn. Gimme the damn long gun, pal."

Why do people allow this? Yeah it's close, but it's not where it says it's going.

"All right, everyone. We are now going to start our non-stop flight to Orlando, Florida. Now that the doors are closed and there's nothing you can do, I'll tell you that we'll be flying to Jacksonville! Yes, you're right, it's NOT Orlando, but it is closer to Orlando than where you are right now. Right? Am I right? We will be coming around soon with complimentary peanuts for everyone. 'Peanuts' is a loose term. It also encompasses poisons and snake venom, so who knows what you'll get. We just never say what we mean around here!"

Twitter @nathanmacintosh