WTF Moment #003

So it has come to my attention that I have been a tiny bit neglectful in my blogging lately. To be honest, it's been a combination of a lack of time, and a lack of anything noteworthy to write about. Well today is your lucky day folks! Not only am I back in business, but with one hell of a WTF moment for you! Behold...

Grant MacEwan University, an institution designed for optimal learning and higher education, plays host to a large number of people who despite their reach for intellectual enlightenment, have sadly lost the social skills to make any of that brain power useful. I over-heard a conversation today during which I found myself being embarrassed FOR this person.

While innocently enjoying my chocolate milk, I heard a spry young man trying desperately to convince a young women, whom he'd just recently met, that his style of dress was in fact, and I quote, "above average". "At school I just wear whatever," he says "jeans and a shirt. But when I go out, believe me, I step it up. My wardrobe is far to nice for school. Even me dressing down is usually above average." This guy was so intent on impressing her with his designer jeans and jacket that it was like watching a used car salesman trying to sell a Pinto to the manager of a Lexus dealership - fruitless and beyond shameful.

Luckily this woman not fooled by his douche-baggery, however, she was not all that adept at remedying the situation either. She proceeded to show him how far she could bend the tip of her index finger back. ....WHAT??? WTF are you doing??? Is this where "flirting" is headed?? Are we so far gone that something that once required confidence and charm has turned into a who's-who of freak show talents?? I was appalled.

It was sometime before, or after this part of the conversation (the exact sequence has escaped me...some call it repression) that this young man had broken into song, attempting to croon his way into this girls heart...or pants, for that matter. (the latter probably the more likely of the two scenarios) But regardless of how it unfolded, the result was the same. Train wreck.

Moral of the story: Unless you're Michael Bublé, keep the singing in the shower.