Social Experiments

I've been very interested lately in conducting some highly specialized social experiments. I'm not sure if this is out of a need to engage my brain in some form of research or out of complete and utter (I almost just wrote udder) boredom, but whatever it is, it's rather fun.

It all started because I don't have a particular style to which I ascribe. One day I will wear jeans and a t-shirt, one day I will look like a hippie. I embrace my love for Colorado with a fleece and chacos, or I embrace my Missouri roots with an old school Chiefs (go Chiefs!) sweatshirt and some sweatpants. I've always wanted to learn how to look like a Hipster, but I'm still not quite sure what that means. My friend Kim tells me that to dress like a Hipster you have to wear all of your clothes and accessories at once. I think she's right.

Anyway, I work at a little coffee shop here in Denver and therefore see a whole lot of people each day. We don't have a uniform, so I wear whatever suits my fancy that day (or actually, I pick out my clothes the night before like a good little girl. partly because I'm anal and my closet is color coordinated, and partly because I really like getting up at the last possible second when I have to be at work by 5am). While at work, I began noticing a pattern. And the pattern was that people on a fairly frequent basis would comment on my clothing or hair style of the day. Mostly these people were my regulars, and mostly they were men. Older men. Married older men. Huh. I find this a bit confusing and more than a little creepy. My boss tells me that it's because married men are taught to notice details about their wives, and therefore notice things about their barista as well. Maybe. My friend tells me it's because they can't think of anything else to talk about and they don't want to just give me the normal "how are you today?" because that gets boring and cliche after a while, so they move on to a topic that is more in depth, but still not getting personal. Ok. I can believe that one.

Deciding to turn this strange phenomenon into a game, I started a tally system. I wore a crazy headband rambo style and donned my funkiest pair of hippie jeans and headed to work with a new passion: to prove that I wasn't crazy; that old men really did comment on my outfit more than is necessarily comfortable. And to throw in a control group I added a tally column for women too. It was neck and neck all day, but eventually after 6 hours and 13 comments the men had it by a hair. 7 to 6: men to women. I wasn't crazy, but I was at least a little comforted that women were commenting too.

Having success in this experiment, I eagerly looked for new opportunities to entertain me. I even went so far as to ask the front desk man at my financial adviser's office if he ever conducted social experiments to see where people sat down when they entered the office (I think this made him very confused. apparently he doesn't entertain himself the way I do). You see, there are four chairs. Each perfectly arranged in a square so that you either have to sit uncomfortably close to someone or directly opposite them. Both are equally awkward. Believe me, there was a man sitting there when I arrived and I had to choose between the seat next to him (that felt a little too intimate) or the seat right across from him where I was guaranteed to either have to stare at the table in front of me the whole time or risk several instances of awkward accidental eye contact. He looked nervous and was dressed in a very nice suit. And so I amused myself with the thought of asking him if he was there for an interview and then telling him I was there for one too. And then laugh inwardly as he appraised my appearance (it was a t-shirt and chacos day). I would have said "oh man, maybe I should have dressed up more!. And then I would have kept an excellently straight face. Just to see what he would do. (yet another social experiment).

My financial planner saved me from the awkwardness and as we went back to his office, he told me that you could always tell someone was there for an interview because they were either reading the paper or looking at their phone. Apparently he likes social experiments too. And this guy was doing both, so his hypothesis proves true...at least in this instance.

Anyway, this has been long. We are now going to conduct a social experiment to see who made it this far. And the way we're going to do that is by looking at the stats of how many page visits this blog gets and how many page visits MY NEW WEBSITE gets. So click on it. Please! Google needs to start recognizing that it exists so that pregnant mamas can find me! Ok go!

Laughing Yoga (and there's a picture!)

I've recently decided it's time to start working out again. I took about a 9 month hiatus after my last half marathon and am now back to it. Half marathons are supposed to get you in shape, but I'm pretty sure all my half marathon accomplished was driving every single ounce of desire to work out far far away from me. So, while I have enjoyed these past nine months of gluttonous behavior, I feel like it might be time to make a lifestyle change. After all, I do live in Colorado. I feel it is my duty to be active. You know, keep our stats in good standings.

I actually find the activity level in Colorado kind of hilarious. At any given moment I can look out my window to find runners, dog walkers, bikers, roller bladers, and the like. I see entire families jumping on trampolines together. I see people riding around on the strangest things on wheels propelling themselves with poles that have rubber tips, whose likeness closely resemble those of the tips on the bottoms of walkers for the elderly. Today I happened upon a young man roller blading along a main thoroughfare, sneakers in hand. He gave me a good laugh as he crossed the street on his blades, stopped at the light post and almost accidentally rolled back out onto the street. Toe Pick! (Anyone? The Cutting Edge? Great 90's movie about figure skating).

This young man, however, did not even come close to making my day like my own personal Santa Clause. Let me explain. As I continued on my drive home, I looked up and saw a man in a red hooded sweatshirt running on the sidewalk at an angle heading directly towards the edge of the sidewalk as if he were going to run headlong into oncoming traffic. My first thought towards Santa was worry for his safety. But just as soon as I'd had the thought about him running into my car, he quickly zigged in the opposite direction. He was chasing something. That something was a rock. He was playing soccer with a rock on the sidewalk. And he was about 65 years old. My own personal Santa Clause! The bringer of laughter and joy. You made my day, Santa. I thought only small boys were supposed to kick rocks on the sidewalk.

*As a side note, boys' fascination with rocks has always been intriguing to me. I.E. take a boy to the beach and he will immediately find a rock and throw it into the water. This happens from an extremely young age. And it seems to be an innate instinct. No one has taught this little boy to throw rocks. You don't see little girls throwing rocks. It's purely instinctual to boys. And one that apparently doesn't lessen with age.

Anyway. Back to me exercising. I've decided I would like my exercise regimen to include two things. And I would like to find a gym that offers these two things and then, in turn, offers me a membership. For a very low introductory price....

Laser Tag.

And Jump Street.

Together at last.

Ooooh! Laser tag WHILE jumping on trampolines! But that combination will only be offered to individuals with a high skill level. This is not a playground for beginners. This could cause serious injury.

If anyone would like to take my idea and make me a gym like this I would greatly appreciate it. I wouldn't even charge a fee for my idea. I would just ask that you give me free membership because you will be making a fortune! Imagine the possibilities. They're endless. Ok, maybe not endless. Just trampolines. And laser tag. And any combination of the two.

Anyway, until then I will be trying my hand at yoga. Because yoga doesn't make me run.

And in unrelated news, my friend Kelli Babcock designed a logo and business card for DouLa La. Check it out. It's at the top. I couldn't figure out how to make it land down here. Newby blogger.