How to brag without blushing

Since the advent of Facebook status updates and Twitter, I noticed (and get annoyed to no end) that people are often boasting shamelessly about themselves but in a way to suggest they are not boasting. Sounds strange?

Take for example these comments:
“So busy! Have to go for 3 shoots and 2 fittings later then meet new designer. Wish there is more hours in a day!” – translate to mean, “Look. I’m pretty. I’m a model. My life is just awesome.”

“Quickly nipping into Gucci to grab a bag from their new collection before lunch!” – translate to mean, “Look, I am rich. I can afford to buy luxury goods at whim.”

“Buying a new set of Bvlgari rings to support their charitable drive for homeless children. Please also lend your support to them!” translate to mean, “Look, I am rich and I THINK I am even doing a good deed by passing on the message”.

You will notice that exclamation marks are often included to try and trivialize the comment….
Anyway, I came across this really hilarious article from New York Times that really pushed the message home. Humblebrag; now I know the term for it!

If I Do Humblebrag So Myself

By Henry Alford
Published: November 30, 2012

SOMETIMES when I crave a powerful dose of humility — the kind of humility that can come only from fully apprehending the lot of those less fortunate than me — I turn my attention to the plight of the former White House press secretary Ari Fleischer. He experiences an exquisite kind of pain. As he lamented on Twitter earlier this year: “They just announced my flight at LaGuardia is number 15 for takeoff. I miss Air Force One!!”
When my stores of sympathy have not been fully depleted by contemplating the indignities heaped on Mr. Fleischer, I’ll then go on and immerse myself in the ennobling humility of the comedian Dane Cook. Mr. Cook, who has nearly three million Twitter followers, once tweeted: “Being famous and having a fender bender is weird. You want to be upset but the other drivers just thrilled & giddy that it’s you.” Finally, on those days when my humanity is fathomless, I turn to the selfless tweets of Deepak Chopra. Like: “Hope & despair are born of imagination. I am free of both.”

There’s nothing new about false modesty, nor its designation as a form of bad manners. But the prevalence of social media has given us many more canvases on which to paint our faux humility — making us, in turn, increasingly sophisticated braggers.

Enter the self-deprecating boast known as the “humblebrag,” a term devised by the comedian Harris Wittels, a writer for the NBC series “Parks and Recreation,” who collects hundreds of these cockeyed chestnuts on his Twitter feed and in his new book, both called “Humblebrag.” Whether it be the publicist Jenny Marie Miranda asking, “Why do men hit on me more when I’m in sweat pants?” or Dina Manzo, one of the “Real Housewives,” stating, “I obsess over the welfare of old people & animals on hot days like today. OBSESS #thereissomethingwrongwithme,” a humblebrag is an opportunity for the attention-starved to stake a claim on our sympathy.

Indeed, this may be why false modesty is no less discomfiting to its audience (and is sometimes more so) than outright bragging. Outright bragging expects to be met with awe, but humblebragging wants to met with awe and sympathy. It asks for two reactions from its audience, and in so doing makes fools of its beholders twice over. The practice is also ineffably irritating because it ultimately and slyly asserts the triumph of business over the personal: given that there’s a higher tolerance for bragging in business than social circles, many falsely modest statements on Twitter and Facebook try to fly under decorum’s radar by whispering to their readers, “You’re my fan, not my friend.”

What societal failings can we hold accountable for the practice? It’s emblematic that one of the signature phrases to have emerged from reality television is “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win.” In most cultures, the assertion “I’m here to win,” as uttered by a contestant in a competition, would be deemed redundant. Reality television, like social media, is often pure advertising, so auto-trumpeting is thought to be less toxic.

Second, our weak economy has probably raised the bar for displays of competitiveness and semi-bald assertions of self-worth.

Third, many humblebraggers take solace in a rationalization that runs roughly, “I’m not throwing away my afternoon on the Internet, I’m waging a jihad of quirky auto-branding.”

Whatever its causes or context, humblebragging is a testament to the amount of ardor and subterfuge people bring to the craft of self-promotion. The varieties of humblebragging represent a breadth of motive and technique. Most humblebrags are attempts to convey one of three messages: “I have too much work”; “I am an idiot/impostor”; or “I have firsthand knowledge of the gritty gilt to be found inside the gilded cage.”

On the overworked front, we’ve heard from the Broadway actress Kerry Butler (“I’ve been signing so many autographs lately, that I was writing a card to my dad and started to write my last name!!”) and Tobias Lütke, Shopify’s chief executive (“I just started writing a tool that I know I could turn into another million dollar company if I had the time”).

Those who vaunt their supposed idiocy or role as impostor include Joe Jonas (“Totally walked down the wrong escalator at the airport from the flashes of the cameras... Go me”) and the “Jeopardy!” champ Ken Jennings (“Hey, if you put me in your /celebs list, I’m flattered, but let’s be honest: that’s the most expansive definition of ‘celeb’ possible”).

Exquisite pain has been felt by Lindsey N. Waterhouse, the chief executive of Waterhouse Sports & Entertainment (“My emails send so slowly over here in Cannes! So frustrated!”) and Jared Followill, the Kings of Leon bassist, who tried to soften the blow of one tweet (“Mother of God. Tornado coming. Hide in my wine cellar or my theatre? Or my gym.”) with the parenthetical comment “In the face of death, I still find ways to brag.”

But these categories are merely the beginning. Other humblebraggers can be found desperately trying to convince you that they’re normal or, even more disingenuously, trying to clear up nonexistent rumors. Humblebrags can gain special piquancy when their seeming effort to belittle their author also seemingly belittles others in the author’s path; note the use of quotation marks at the end of a tweet from the biographer Paula Broadwell in August: “Honored and humbled to be included in @claudiachan’s profiles of global ‘remarkable women.’ ” This tweet, too: “remarkable.”

Indeed, so diverse is the terrain that the anti-humblebrag — or, as the blogger Jen Doll has called it, the “underbrag” — has been born. As a Facebook friend of mine, the writer Teddy Wayne, announced on that site recently: “To counter the prevailing social-media ethos of posting only successes (professional accomplishments, vacation/party/elaborate meal photos, humblebrags), a practice from which I am not exempt either, I will sporadically begin posting instances of failure with the hashtag #failures. To avoid pity-parties, I will end each note with a spirited exclamation point!” Here are acts of stupidity and ignorance devoid of possible reward, other than the enactor’s demonstrating enough confidence to share his act of stupidity or ignorance. Think face-plants in mud; think ill-fitting underpants.

How should we react to false modesty? When we encounter it on social media, it’s usually easy enough to stop following or to unfriend yourself from the culprit. But its real-life iterations are more complicated.

There’s great solace in rolling your eyes heavenward in the presence of a sympathetic conspirator, and in developing with that conspirator a series of nonbitchy jokes fueled by the humblebrag and its creator. But in the end, the real challenge is to realize that falsely modest people are probably trying to combat their own perceived weakness. We then need to try to cultivate a tolerance devoid of condescension, possibly taking a cue from Victoria Gotti, who, when asked about her husband, John Gotti, once said, “All I know is, he provides.”

I learned the hard way. There was no greater humblebragger in my life than a friend who told me about a publicity tour for which he’d been sent to Germany, lamenting, “I chain-smoked the entire tour.” Another time, he alluded to himself as “beloved by all yet loved by none.” Once, at a dinner party in his home, he told five of us all about an acting award he’d received at a film festival in Mexico — but then explained he had to pay to collect the medal.

I quailed at all three of these statements, viewing them as manipulative attempts to assert worth. I thought, What creative person who is not a household name would kick international publicity in the teeth? And who, outside hoary TV legends, would ever refer to himself as “beloved”? My irritation sat with me like an unwanted houseguest ashing all over my slipcovers. One night over dinner, I started to call him out on it, but lost my nerve.

When he died a year later of cancer, I suddenly felt different. Now I could see the humble through the bragging.

How to tell someone’s age

Interrupt someone when they are talking by saying, “Alright, stop. Collaborate and listen” and watch out for their reply.

If they stare blankly at you, they should be in their 20s or below.

If they say “Ice is back with a brand new invention” (like Phillip), I’d say they are around 30s.

If they belt out the entire stanza (like Toe), you are talking to someone who had executed the Vanilla Ice’s famous “chicken dance” on the dance floor in their midriffs and high waisted jeans back in their hay days.

And this was what Toe rapped to me (while doing said chicken dance – see video below) at my doorstep last night:

Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop?
Yo, I don't know
Turn off the lights and I'll glow
To the extreme I rock a mic like a vandal
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle

Toe, you are the kok star.

What’s up with the coconut trees?

You might ask. Well, I’m just trying to change things up a bit in my very limited design ability. If you haven’t notice, I am really, really, really bad at blog design or anything related to it. For example, Tetanus asked me to change my “RSS feed” feature (to do something so that he can read it in a particular way) and I went, “HEH??!” at him. In case you are reading this, Tetanus, I completely forgot what it is I’m supposed to do. Sowee!

Anyway, I have 16 items in my email today asking for my “legal POV”. POV stands for Point of View (not poverty). What that means is, people wants to know if they do this and that, will they get their ass sued. Sometimes, it’s not even a legal issue. For example, it could be a case of: “Dear Frou, we are moving the photocopy machine to the pantry. What is your legal POV on this? Sign, Mr. X.”

Now, without fail, every time I get such an email asking for my legal POV, the first response in my head is always this: “Dude, I don't care. I just want to go home and sleep”. If I have only 5 second to draft a reply, that would be it. And then I would be out of job and miserable.

So, to keep my job, I usually take more than 5 second to reply. In fact, for some questions, I take up to 24 hours to reply. First 15 minutes will be spent wondering why on earth me. Next 15 minutes pondering what my alternative career could be. Next hour would be lunch. The following hour, I would prepare a draft reply. Next, I would go home and sleep on it. In the morning, I will review my previous draft and come up with a new one depending on the quality of my sleep the night before.

Following this process, my final reply to the photocopy machine question would read something like this:

"Dear Mr. X, thank you for alerting me of this very important issue. As you know, photocopying is a key aspect to some of our employees’ work in the office without which could affect the smooth operation of our business. Given its significance, it would be natural to assume that a photocopier machine would be best placed in the part of the office where employees can have easy and uninterrupted access. Your idea of moving the copier to the pantry, while certainly is an innovative one, is likely to be perceived by employees as causing unnecessary inconvenience to them. Also, the increased traffic to the pantry for the purposes of photocopying is likely to reduce the ability of the pantry to fulfill its function as a place for effective food and beverage preparation. Not forgetting, the likelihood of accidental spills may cause resulting damage to the copier. Furthermore, have you considered the feelings of the pantry auntie who already have enough on her plate taking care of the other company assets in the pantry? In view of the foregoing, my point of view is that while it would not  violate any laws to move the copier to the pantry, it would be preferable for you to move it to your room, which is in middle of our office, to allow easily accessibility to everyone. You may relocate yourself to the pantry instead although I would advise that you should not expect the pantry auntie to take too kindly to this either but at least you just need to deal with 1 employee’s wrath and not 50 others. I trust this is clear. If you need to discuss this in person, please do not hesitate to contact my assistant to find an available date in my calendar, which unfortunately looks rather full until 2015. Thank you.”

Yes, I give kok advice for a living.

Note from The Universe

Neither a promotion, losing weight, finding a soul mate, writing a book, nor becoming a billionaire, Frou, will ensure happiness.

Nothing ensures happiness. No destination is great enough. No dream come true will do.

Because happiness, my dear Frou, that's not present at the start of a journey will not be present at its end.

Après vous,
The Universe

Panda in the Lagoon

Shawn Mao = “Xiong Mao” (“panda” in Chinese)

Hahaha! Clever!