Fear and Loathing in SA Part 2: The Motorcycle Diaries

Fuck, no breaks. I sat on my sportbike at the dusty intersection of a farm access road and a major Peruvian highway scanning the oncoming traffic for a break in order to make it to the safety of the other side. I had successfully made it across three lanes of speeding buses and petroleum tankers and then had to stop because the rest of the highway was blocked by a military convoy. I now clung to my idling 400 cc Honda perched precariously in the tiny median of the busy highway. The dry desert wind picked up a little causing the palm trees on the other side to sway slightly, as if beckoning me to the safety of the pastural farmland ahead, away from the noise dust and danger of the highway. I lowered the protective visor on my helmet to sheild my eyes from the clouds of sand that were coming my way, and as I sat in the relative serenity I thought back to my younger days at University in my homeland.
Back then I was just a young niave college student, full of curiosity and youthful idealism. It was at this crucial juncture of my life that I was taken under the wing of the person who would become the biggest influence of my life, a man whos wisdom and knowledge were matched only by his cool misterious demeanor. He could have been the next president of the United States simply by announcing his candidacy, and yet he chose enlightenment over power, goddamn. The man I am refering to is David Simms, the inspiration for those Dos Equis commercials featuring "the most interesting man in the world." As I sat hoping for a break in traffic I poured over my mental bank of adages I gained from my friendship with David Simms.
"If theres grass on the feild play ball!" Hmmmm. That certainly was a popular mantra of Mr. Simms but it didn't really apply to this situation. It was most commonly used when confronting a moral dilemna of whether or not to engage in sexual congress with a girl, epecially one that you suspect of being too young for pleasures of the flesh. The saying had certainly served me well previously on my south american adventure such as when I was presented the opportunity to hook up with a 25 year old Brazillian MILF. However I was not in a dimly lit 6 dollar a night hostel with an off duty exotic dancer, much as I wished I was.
"Good blow sparkles like the morning sun on fresh mountain snow." Another incredibly useful pearl of wisdom from D. Simms especially in the context of a trip to South America, but again not particularly useful at the moment.
I cycled through dozens of such proverbs gained from my time with David Simms none of which seemed to apply to my predicament, despite their wisdom and practicality. Suddenly I remembered the time David had taught me to use a manual transmission automobile in the parking lot of Vince and Dominic's. What did he say to me, think goddamnit. Of course! "When you're starting up the car make sure you're in first gear and let the clutch out slowly while accelerating at the same time." ¿Could that saying apply here? I was on a motorbike and not in Dave's little sister's Toyota Echo, however the engine size was probably fairly comparable between the two. After failing to come up with anything more suitable I slowly loosened my grip of my left hand on the clutch while throttling the machine's engine at the same time with my right hand. The bike lurched forward into the perilous highway, barked sharply... then stalled. To be continued.....?

Fear and Loathing in South America 1

Hola a mis amigos gringos!

Thats Espanol for ¨stop looking looking at our women that way white devil¨or something like that. Things are going well down here, not that I expect anybody cares much. Note to anyone coming down, be prepared for a squirty good time en el bano for awhile after you first arrive, its a given. My amigo the infamous J-Tarr fell ill with some sort of third world stomach flu which meant we had to stay in Lima for like 5 days, which is five days longer than I would have cared to. For those without my internationally well travelled background Lima has the weather of Seattle, the pollution of LA and the friendlyness of NYC. A real trifecta. Anyway we learned not to eat in sketchy Southamerican Chinese resturaunts until Mr. Tarr´s estomago has adapted to the new bacteria rich environment. So why did I not suffer the same fate, I´ve got two words... The Hut. Smoking, eating, hooking up and passing out in that horrible place during high school has probably given my immune system a head start on third world adaptation. Anyway we´re out of lima now, drinking the local hooch "Crystal" and fumando the local outdoor. Anyway gotta go I´ve scheduld some sandboarding, like snowboarding except on giant sand dunes. Peace.

you framed an asia poster? how hard did the people at the frame store laugh when you brought this in?

school has taken a back seat to football this weekend. the true freshman quarterback from michigan looked really poised at the end of the game, and matt barkley was phenomenal on the final drive. i don't really have a dog in the college football fight, but i'm pulling for the trojans this year. i think the sec is a little overrated, and a lot of the schools have gimmick schedules. the pac-10/acc play more balanced schedules, and usc plays a decent non-conference schedule.

***

here are my predictions of who will make the playoffs from each division. yes, these predictions are with the benefit of 13 games already played.

afc: new england, pittsburgh, indianapolis, san diego, new york jets, baltimore
nfc: seattle, new orleans, minnesota, new york giants, philadelphia, chicago

***

ass in the sand, toes in the water... way better than lucky man, this is one of my favorite new country songs. the video is pretty funny too. these guys are from georgia.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lB8Nkn3Xjes

right up there with jungle love and wake me up before you go, this has to be one of my least favorite songs:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4LjgxXCsRek

***

rambo is off to south america soon. my prediction is that he gets captured by FARC rebels in colombia and gets indoctrinated after months of captivity. rambo (el gordo as he will be known) will become the leader of the rebel group and fashion himself as the next simon bolivar or che guevara. i plan on giving several interviews to biographers and journalists as they seek to discover el gordo's transformation from disaffected wealthy suburbanite to communist guerilla leader.

i'm having a hard time coming up with a prediction for jroll. i picture him possibly taking a saudi bride but mostly i see him coming back to the states with an even worse opinion of muslims. when you are in saudi arabia, if they have islamic beer try it. don't try the fruity flavors, try the beer flavor. let me know what you think.

rosh shashana is coming up on friday. for those of you unacquainted with this age old jewish holiday, it commemorates the day moses broke his knuckles by punching a wall after getting in an argument with the pharoah. have a festive celebration everyone!

Case Study #301: "Selling Out"

"Selling out," as defined by Wikipedia (best source in the world, no?), is the compromising of one's integrity, morality and principles in exchange for money, 'success' (however defined) or other personal gain. It is commonly associated with attempts to increase mass appeal or acceptability to mainstream society.

In my experience, the most common use of the term "selling out" seems to stem from the music industry. While it makes obvious sense to use it there, I think the term is thrown around much more liberally than it should be. People tend to label a band as a "sell out" at the first sign of a song they don't like. It is definitely most common among so-called "old fans," people who pride themselves in liking the band at the release of the first album and before the band became "popular." I definitely agree that this happens all over the place with bands changing their particular style to generate more fans, make more money, get more radio airplay, etc. But at the same time, I think there's a fine line between "selling out" and changing/ evolving as a band. The problem comes with how do you properly distinguish the two?

For example, if you were to go back and listen to old Red Hot Chili Peppers, you would notice a distinctly different sound than from their recent albums. Does that mean they sold out? They were relatively popular back in the day, but I would argue that their popularity didn't take off until "Under the Bridge" was released. That song was much different than anything else they produced prior. Since then, they obviously kept their rock sound, but also included much slower songs and dropped a lot of their funk from subsequent albums. Therefore, I would argue that they modified their sound, and in turn, became more popular. Why have we never heard any discussions of RHCP "selling out?" I think there are 3 plausible explanations: we are a little too young and probably don't know as many old school fans as we think (maybe we should ask Drama...?), and/or these old school fans have accepted the maturation of the band, and/or since RHCP became arguably one of the best bands of our generation nobody wants to bring it up.

Another band that tends to come to mind is Incubus. Incubus' first EP and LP (S.C.I.E.N.C.E.) are very unique from the rest of their music. You could definitely make an argument that the band was still trying to discover itself during that time, as their second album was released not long after S.C.I.E.N.C.E. However, from there on to the most recent album Light Grenades (which I despise for the most part), I don't think their music has changed dramatically. Their music has definitely gotten softer, and I enjoy their old albums much more than the most recent one. Singles tend to be weaker, sappier, over-produced, and more love song-ish, but does that mean they sold out? I would say no. I would argue that there isn't much difference between their first true hit (Pardon Me) and their last big one (Dig). I think this is a case of a band continuing to evolve, just, in my personal opinion, not for the better.

And now, the most recent case and the purpose for this post: O.A.R. It's a sad sad day when you have to say goodbye to one of your favorite bands. As much as I was furious to see Dispatch break up, its days like these that make me thankful for their decision to separate and leave their memory and roots in tact. I would much rather see a band break up before I watch them slowly sell out like O.A.R. is doing. O.A.R. had already been on my nerves after the most recent album, writing one too may slow and sappy songs (and having pushed these to the radio *cough*Shattered*cough), essentially removing what made them awesome and unique (the sax) from a majority of the tracks, and pushing their songs to every damn commercial and promotion (no matter how unrelated) possible. After hearing the most recent single they released, I have officially put them in the "Sell Out" category. The new song is called "Love is Worth the Fall" and can be found on the Twilight soundtrack. Yup, that rights, the Twilight soundtrack. Don't believe me how shitty it is? Listen to it yourself. Then think, would O.A.R. have released this 10 (or even 5) years ago? No. Go and listen to the new EP they released. Listen to the clips of the "new live" songs available on iTunes (please don't buy it) and look me straight in the face and tell me they haven't changed. O.A.R. has officially gone down the drain. No more jams, no more sax, no more uplifting, happy songs (Nightshift, anyone?). They sould like ever other shitty, studio-run, overplayed, radio pop band. I don't know whether they chose to go down this path or they were pushed to it from their studio. Either way, congrats guys, your fan base has grown to include pre-teen girls and people who don't even know what O.A.R. stands for (Of a Revolution, by the way). You've sold more copies of your recent album than ever before and you're making more money. But you're also losing what made you unique. You're alientating your old fans, but most importantly, you're alienating you're most passionate fans.

It just goes to show you that money can affect even the best of bands if they lose touch with their roots. Would I have done something different? I don't know. I would hope so, but you never know until you're put in that situation yourself. Either way, I hope you're happy with the path you've chosen. It was fun while it lasted; you've been a great band to me over the past 8 or so years and I will continue to jam out to your old albums. But today, it's time to say goodbye and part ways; I wish you the best of luck O.A.R., but do me a favor and don't bother to keep in touch in the future.

1,000 VIEWS! Did we break it?

I woke up today feeling like shit. Two cats apparently decided to fight to the death outside my window last night/this morning at 4:00 AM. And to the majority of people out there that have never heard a cat fight before (not girls clawing each other's clothes off in hot oil), it sounds like a baby crying mixed with the occasional viper hiss. Thinking about it now it really could have been a left-astray baby outside my window that was being attacked by snakes, but either way I was way too tired for something like that and went back to sleep.

Anyways, I digress. I woke up feeling like shit and came into work thinking that today was just a normal Wednesday where I had to take out the trash and sit in my cubicle for the day. But, then I signed on to our awe inspiring blog to check what was new and saw "IT" ...

1,000 VIEWS!!!!!

A kilo, a millennium, the sum of Euler's totient function over the first 57 integers, 1 E+3 views!!!! Despite the awkward glances of my co-workers, I danced around for a while like Michael Jackson and then screamed out like a conquering general, "WE DID IT, BOYS!" But then a thought came to me and I sat down on the spot deep in thought. How can we commemorate such an epic occasion? With Fireworks? BBQ? Beer? Naked Women? A petting zoo? Midgets on unicycles? An aberrant combination of them all? Nothing seemed like it really could capture the monumental achievement that we have accomplished here. That is until I remembered the radio challenges I hear every morning and thought of this:

The first person besides the writers who comments on this blog gets a free giveaway. Thats right! A framed and autographed (probably partly forged) photo of all the bloggers together (probably partly photoshopped). Simply beautiful.

Yeah, lets see if that actually happens. But, who cares if the web-counter is probably just tracking us and ICT - the resume builders! I just write to try and make you guys laugh every once in a while and bicker with pretty much anything any of you say. So as Ghostface Killah once told me, "I just want to celebrate like we just beat trial ... We bout to have a good year!"

come as you are

the halcyon days of summer have come to an end, signaling the start of school. summer's end also marks a full year of living in the pacific northwest.

for me, that has meant 365 days of grunge, sir-mix-a-lot's "baby got back," and jimi hendrix on the radio; 365 days of fresh fish, fruit, and vegetables at the public market; and 365 days of being panhandled.

neither a bustling metropolis, nor a mid-sized city, seattle confronts this identity quandary with an inferiority complex, excessively celebrating even minor accomplishments. (see continued airplay of "baby got back).

as with most cities, neatly categorizing the types of people is unhelpful and the categorizations are most often untrue. yet one cateogry of people sticks out in seattle. when lieutenant colonel frank slade welcomes charlie to the big apple, he yells "welcome to the greatest freak show on earth." seattle, for sure, has a disproportionate amount of freaks. i've seen people dress more bruno (do not know how to insert an umlaut) than bruno (again with the umlaut), i've see a man in cutoff jean shorts and a wifebeater walk his ferret on a leash, and i've seen a woman place her starbucks coffee and nordstrom's bag on the sidewalk, hug a tree and slowly start chanting.

other than myself, this city's largest asset is mother nature. i've spent time in british colombia, the oregon coast, the columbia river gorge, mt. rainier, and the olympic peninsula, and only red rock country in southern utah or the continental divide in glacier national park match the natural beauty of the pacific northwest (none of these areas, however, can give lake tahoe a run for her money). the scenery here is truly remarkable.

i will refrain from further inadequate descriptions of the city and instead invite you to come experience seattle for yourself.

on an unrelated note, we are almost at 1000 page views.

Smile!

Track has been plagued by steroids for years, just like most sports this decade. It will continue and I hope they try to police themselves as much as possible, because it's simply unfair to have cheaters.

Although we may have our suspicions on certain athletes, we must spend our disbelief, like when reading a good piece of fiction. If we are able to watch the recent World Championships in Track & Field as good ole-fashioned races, it is quite possibly the best meet ever.

Usain Bolt is fast, but his smile is infectious. He actually enjoys the process. He is a legend and his talent immense, but it is his immeasurable enthusiasm that makes you want to share his success. And quite frankly, I'm pretty sure that a lot of his success is due in part to his enjoyment of lacing up his spikes.

As we stare in awe at Bolt, track & field is following his lead. Powell now jokes around with Bolt before his race, so does Spearmon, yet these guys are still running personal bests. Although it's good to focus and I respect Tyson Gay for his death stares, I also admire the ability of the other sprinters to understand their place in society and entertain us with their footraces.

We are slowly realizing that we can embrace athletes because they are likeable. We can now ignore the red-eyed drug cheats and the gun toting criminals to party with somebody that can balance at a night at the club with a podium finish.

Author Christopher McDougall addresses this, in his recent book 'Born to Run.' A tribal group from Mexico, the Tarahumara run hundreds of miles in a couple of days. They don't run with a firm training plan or because they are forced into it; instead, they run because they love it, they love to smile and feel the footfalls. Although they may often run in a competitive spirit, they do it good naturedly and for the love it.

Berlin has done a good job making track & field a sport to love. They have a visible mascot that has been goofing around with Bolt and giving piggy back rides to other gold medallists. Sometimes the sport and running can be grueling. But if we all take a step back, it's worth smiling.

After winning the 400 meter hurdles, Kerron Clement stands atop the podium atop the entire stadium. In years past, it has been mostly business and paycheck for these athletes. But Clement's teeth betray his overwhelming feeling of joy that I've never seen before. Track has always been an embodiment of the different facets of life, and this year's championships remind us that despite the adversities we face, we need to dream and smile.

Hot Tub, Cold Revenge

Dear Palosaurus Rex,

Working as a scientist I have to learn a whole bunch of physical laws of the universe. One common and widely known example is, "For each action there comes an equal and opposite reaction." This is exactly what this post is going to be.

You see I didn’t want to have to bring this up, but it seems Palo’s "bunnybear” post seemed to get a lot of attention. Yes, STANDBY (corrected by J-Roll) posted a lot of pictures (which I might add were of an amazing time – Chicago is a must see city). As a result of Palosaurus Rex's facebook stalking I decided to do a little of my own. He recently wrote to Rambo: "hopefully we get an epic winter out west. start making plans." After reading this a memory immediately came to mind. You see, I believe that events that are not recorded via a camera and posted on Facebook are much more virulent to one’s street credit. Facebook pictures can be de-tagged and forgotten. Memories last forever. That is why I have uncovered this archaic and classic gem from the depths of history.

Lets rewind the hands of time ... (Insert Wayne's World Noises Here) ... It was a wonderful winter wonderland when Palosaurus Rex and Rambo went on a ski trip together. What better to ease sore muscles after a long day of boarding (Rambo obviously) and skiing (Palosaurus Rex) than having a casual beer or two. Of course a couple beers turned into a whole lot more and drunk and stumbling over one another they came up with a real amazing plan. They would take off their clothes in the snow and go into the hot tub together. Before they knew it they were in a hot tub naked and barely able to stand with one another and one other intoxicated man. True Story. And who really knows where their night progressed from there?

After searching for a song that would truly capture this defining moment of them struggling to come out of the closet I found the perfect one below. Enjoy and as they say in the working world, "TGIF, Bitches!!!!"

Your caring and knowing how to capitalize words at the beginning of sentences friend,
Sim Simma

"You wink, I laugh 'cause we know a little hug leads to a foot rub then a hot tub. Then a french kiss on a bear rug. Do you like it, do you like it? How about this? Wanna try it? Oh, oh, oh I'll take that as a yes!"

we want more!

dearest bunnybear,

will you please thank standby for uploading 52 photos onto facebook of your weekend with her? i was delighted to pour through 52 pictures of you two just hanging out. i speak for scores when i say we want to see more of these whimsical, yet decidedly unfunny pictures. next time you two hang out for the weekend can you post 80 pictures? 100 pictures? 125 pictures? the more photos she uploads, the more she loves you.

best,
palosaurusREX

wearing a rage against the machine t-shirt and ordering a snackwrap

the elderly, women who are pregnant, and children are advised to stay in-doors. if you go outside limit your physical activity and be sure to drink plenty of liquids.

gentlemen, the forecast for seattle tomorrow is 87 and, gasp, 95 on monday. we have had more snowdays then days above 85 degrees. as few seattleites have air-conditioner, expect a full-throated panic as the mercury rises here on the puget sound.

for the wealthy, the next few days will be a rare chance to put your expensive boat to use. the puget sound, lake union, and lake washington are littered with yachts, speed, and sail boats, making rush hour dc traffic seem orderly. for the homeless, the next few nights will be ideal for sleeping under freeway overpasses, in the park, and outside my apartment building. no i don't have any change.

the way the temperature varies throughout the day is pretty wild too. we had a high of 83 yesterday, but it was about 65 up until half past noon. it got dramatically warmer in the ensuing hours and then cooled down quickly about an hour before the sun set (we are far north and it doesn't get dark until 10 here). crazy, i know.

the oncoming heatwave reminded me of this article that i read in the nyt:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/23/garden/23air.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&sq=air%20conditioning&st=cse&scp=2

i imagine sim simma is the only person excited about the prospect of no ac. i can only imagine the chaos in the rambo mansion if they went even an hour without ac.

wish me well as i attempt to survive a few days of 90 degree weather. i look forward to not wearing any deodorant the next week.

The Redneck "Car" Club

The question I was asking myself in the never ending Disneyworld ride of a DMV line the other day was posed before me by John Mayer. I looked around the line in anguish and wondered, "Why, Georgia? Why?!?"

My escapade with this all began with my ticket (sidenote: F#%$ the Police!) which has forced me into doing a variety of annoying tasks in order to obtain GA registration, title, and license. By the way you can not get any of these items all in one place. No, no, no, no, no ... it takes multiple phone calls, internet checking and a gathering of a variety of items to be accepted by the Great State of Georgia.

Once you gather these items you must wait in line at the DMV to get a number. Once you get a number you must wait in another line for that number to be called. The process to get to this point took me a long time, but I was not deterred. I wanted to be a true Southerner. I wanted to say y'all with a little more twang in my voice and finally be accepted by all the Georgia peach girls and guys.

Unfortunately, just like any good club Georgia had to make it harder than just waiting in line. You see my number was finally called (F519!! They need letters and numbers because there are so many people in line) and right when I get to the desk the lady tells me the computer is broken and she will have to wait until it is fixed. She then writes my number on a piece of paper under what looks like 10 other numbers. I sulk back to my seat accepting defeat and continue to wait because I have no other choice.

Finally, a counter clerk sees me disintegrating from boredom (FACT: There is not one good looking person to stare at within the DMV complex) and takes pity on me. She calls me up to get a new number for my next line. I wait in line here to take my picture where despite my obvious frustrations with lines and crying babies throughout the facility I manage a smirk for the camera. I then wait in line for them to deliver me my new Georgia lisence. I am thrilled to say the least.

I receive the piece of plastic I have waited from 11:30 to 2:00 for and at first I am appalled by what I see. I had not shaved in a while so I have a full beard, which along with a reddish tint to the camera made me look like a true country blood sunburned redneck. That smirk I thought looked real suave now looks like my name is Billy Bob and I either just kissed my cousin Thelma Lou or found one biggum piece of roadkill that would be one 'ell of a sight for dinner. It looks like I would be the guy that could be too drunk to fish or if I saw a sign that said "Say No To Crack," I'd pull up my jeans. But, after staring at my card for a while I began to embrace the sight and am gosh darn tootin' thrilled to get 'er done at the honky tonks and bars and have 'dem sweet georgia peaches tell me with a wink, "You jawja boys are some of the nicest, most respectful southern fellers I's ever met."

Sidestory: I got my car fixed on Buford Highway to pass emissions and the mechanic gave me his number in case the light came back on. When I asked for his name he said, "It's José ... thats H-O-S-E, right?" I died laughing ... I felt bad, but to make it up to him if anyone needs any maintenance work done my essa Hose can get it done real cheap and fast. He doesn't know much english, but a wrench, screwdriver and some duct tape only speak one language.

I've got lemons, time to make lemonade

A moment of silence please for our friend Rambo and his circumstances from last weekend....
...
We've all had those rough weekends, scheduling plans around a lady friend we don't know too well, just in hopes that maybe it'll be worth the effort. It's almost never worth it, but thanks to evolution, we're wired to keep trying.

This weekend, it's my turn to debate the merits of adjusting my schedule for a three-point attempt. I'm home in PA right now, it's raining, my car is costing hundreds to get inspected, and well life is miserable sometimes.

Every time, I travel back up north, I always end up with a new girl friend. Last Christmas Break, it was McLovin. Two summers ago, it was Urggh (what a mistake). And in the summer of '06, it was, shit I seriously forget her name, Boobs. I've still yet to land a southerner, go figure.

I met Boobs at a bar in Atlantic City. As we were walking past the entrance, my friend and I saw her walk in. I made some sound similar to the tsssst, and we proceeded to follow her in there a minute or two later. After several guys came up to talk to her, she looked very disinterested in one of them, so I pulled the 'save her' move and it actually worked. We exchanged numbers.

We kinda dated for a couple weeks, and it was the last time that I've slept in a dorm room, surprisingly enough. We hooked up, but during the morning, I usually felt like Rambo. Her reasoning to most of this was that I lived too far away, a refrain I've heard since the Athens Olympics. (The second time, you fuckers that think I've been alive since the 1800s)

Anyway, I leave it up to you my readers to decide how to handle this weekend. But first let me explain our last date. Me and my buddy picked her up at her dorm in Richard Stockton, and we drove to Atlantic City to watch her friend play in a band. Throughout the night, she got hit on at least a dozen times. It became tiresome, so I kinda gave up. But we were still on decent terms when we headed to the casinos.

While at the casinos, if I recollect correctly, which I feel like I couldn't possible be doing, we randomly bumped into one of her guy friends, who was obnoxious even for New Jersey. We had him tag along all night. I just wanted to get back to her beachhouse and make the most of the night, but you know drunk girls.

So we ended up galavanting about from bar to bar, until we ended up at a final bar, where she knew the bouncers or something. We argued a bit and then she proceeded to flirt with another dozen guys, with this other guy still tagging along.

Finally, the girls were ready to go back to the beachhouse. But her phone was now broke and this dbag had no place to sleep, so he'd be going home with us. I somehow managed to fix her phone, and we got a cab.

Halfway through the cab ride, I swear to god, this guy makes us all stop at a pizza place to buy a pie, with the METER RUNNING. Twenty minutes later we leave again for the beach house. At this point, I think I have no chance of hooking up with her.

With our new friend in tow, she's real nice to this guy and takes him into her room. I climb onto the futon and my buddy on the couch in the living room. She comes back into the kitchen to get him some water. The whole time in the living room, me and my buddy are incredulous to the absurdity and disappointness of the night for me.

About ten minutes later, the lights to her room finaally turn off. But, she walks out to the living room and sleeps next to me on the futon. I don't conquer civilization, but I'm rewarded for my long night. At this point, I don't care that my buddy is in the room. Coach finally took me off the bench and put me in the game, I'm going to god damn take my at-bats.

The next day, this guy still tags along to the beach with us, because he still has no ride back to Central Jersey. But he doesn't have any clothes for the beach, so he wears his jeans the entire day. It was so uncomfortable for me. At the end of the beach day, I kiss her goodbye, as she prepares to drive this guy home. It was the last time I've seen here and heard from her, until she facebook messaged me one night while I was getting shitfaced, although she had signed off when I got back home later that night.

So here is the question, I ask, how should I handle this weekend. I left her a facebook wall post that I'd be around the shore this weekend. She posted back, that indeed it'd be nice to see me, and in a separate message, left me her cell number so I could get in touch with her.

The problem is that, none of my good friends really live here anymore, and if I stay in town I'll be at the beach by myself. Should I text her, directly trying to meet up with her with a time and place at the shore on Saturday? Should I text her that I'll be down the shore Saturday and we should meet up? Or should I just forget it and head back to Atlanta. Unless I have a chance of drinking with her Friday or Saturday night, I don't think this venture will be worth it. But again, I implore you for advice so I don't end up like Rambo 3 days ago or me 3 years ago.

They could write a country song about this one…

So as I'm sitting at work contemplating how much longer I have to sit here and look busy my thoughts begin to drift back to last weekend. Advance warning, this post is not really going to be that funny, unless you consider my ineptness at life in general to be funny, which most people do.

So last Friday I had a rare type of problem. I had two seemingly very attractive opportunities to choose from. I could go with my friends from high school to Bethany Beach for a weekend of blackout drunkenness and surfing, or I could meet up with a girl I hooked up with last month. I made my decision based on the following facts: A.) It's been like forever since I've been laid. B.) I could theoretically go out with this girl on Friday and drive up to the beach on Saturday. So I called this girl and made plans to meet up with her after work. Big mistake. If any of you have wondered why I seem to do everything randomly with little to no planning beforehand its because almost every plan I devise, no matter how simple, ultimately fails horribly. I don't know why this is, whether its poor planning, incompetent execution or unforeseen future disasters, (most likely a combination) but by choosing to act on my own plans, rather than someone else's I condemned my weekend to epic failure.

I text this girl that I can meet her in Dupont Circle at around 8. I planned to leave the office around 7 so I can get there early and have a beer beforehand.

7:30 PM: I leave the office and proceed to the nearest Red Line station, it’s a 15 minute walk, but I only need to go one stop.

7:45 PM: I go into the station to find out that the Red Line is broken, severe delays are expected, the next train won't be coming for another 16 minutes. I decide to walk to Dupont.

8:07 PM: After walking a mile to Dupont in DC humidity I'm sweaty. I go into a CVS, head to the back and use a spray deodorant while the manager isn't looking… I leave without buying anything.

8:15 - 9:15: I meet up with this girl at bar and the night actually goes pretty smoothly from there. The conversation flows relatively smoothly, I manage to minimize awkward pauses while not saying anything too stupid or wildly inappropriate, which is extremely rare.

9:15 PM: She independently brings up the fact that she was prescribed a certain high potency semi-synthetic opiod painkiller last month. I pretend a degree of ignorance and profess a distaste for those types of drugs on the grounds that they are dangerous and addictive. I then counter by saying that I didn't know that Arlington, VA (where she lives) was such a cool place to party. She suggests we take a cab there… so far so good.

9:40 - 11:30 PM: (Now in northern Virginia) More normal conversations during which I don't talk about the horrible person I really am. I also spend most of my cash as bars in Virginia apparently charge a cover.

11:30 PM-12:10 AM: She says she's tired and suggests we go back to her place, I am feeling really good now. Once we go to her place she says we should go to bed and tells me to use the mouthwash in her bathroom, I'm psyched!

12:20 AM: I turn off the lights and get into bed. I try to make out and she is TOTALLY UNRESPONSIVE! I have better luck with a cuddling-spooning action in terms of response, but quickly realize that I FUCKING HATE CUDDLING, not to mention I suck at it.

12:25-3:30 AM: Awkward cuddling. Also I realize that there is no AC.

3:30 AM: I give up, roll over and go to sleep, very much annoyed and confused.

4:30 AM: She wakes me up and tells me that her roommates are moving out that morning and that their parents are coming. She says that they don't want their parents to see their roommate (soon to be ex) having some guy over. They apparently called a cab which was outside with the meter running. I have to get up, get dressed and leave. I am VERY annoyed and EXTREMELY confused.

4:35 - 4:49 AM: I take a cab into DC because I need to pick up my car and so I can avoid paying $45 to get back to Bethesda. The cab driver makes fun of me for getting thrown out at 4 in the morning and suggests my motive for going to DC is actually for a 'message'.



I didn't get home until 5:15 AM on Saturday morning, which meant I was too tired to drive to my friend's beach house. Later on that day I woke up to realize that I'd lost my blackberry phone, probably in one of the two Taxi's I'd taken last night. I went to check the trunk of my car only to find that my license plate, (which had always been loose) totally fell off the car when I closed the trunk lid. I spent my Saturday trying (unsuccessfully) to get my phone back and reinstalling my license plate. This was truly the shittiest weekend in recent memory - way worse than that time I had to study for art history class, and even worse than that one time I watched an episode of "Rosanne" because I was too stoned to find the remote.

The Bucket List

So my 23rd birthday has finally arrived; I never thought it'd get here as I watched the rest of friends reach 23 or 24 (or 32 if you’re Drama). I can honestly say I'm not overly ecstatic about it coming (“that’s what she said…”) because let’s be honest, absolutely NOTHING great happens on your 23rd birthday. There all these so-called “milestone” birthdays, 13, 16, 18, 21, etc. but really, after you turn 21, it’s all downhill from there. What’s my next milestone? I can rent a car without an extra fee when I turn 25? Awesome! I can’t wait to go out and rent cars just for the sake of not paying an extra service fee!
Since I’ve decided that 25 is my next “milestone,” I decided to brainstorm and find ways to make the next 2 years of my life more exciting. After eliminating ones I deemed weak, I have created a list of 10 items I’m going to attempt to accomplish over the next four years. Yeah I know, it should be 2 but one of them doesn’t even take place until 2012 so it’d tough to check that one off the list before I turn 25. Some of them are also a relatively pricey and this will allow me to spread the $ I spend over a longer time frame. Think of this as my Bucket List. But unlike Jack Nicholson, I’m not dying, just getting older.
Without further ado, my Bucket List:

1. The Masters – The Masters is the ultimate golf tournament. There is no comparison to walking the plush course on a Sunday or sitting in Amen Corner waiting for your favorite golfer to get there. Some people who don’t appreciate golf probably think this is stupid, and you know what I say to that: you’re dumb. There’s nothing like attending a golf tournament in person – Just ask Sim Simma, he’s can’t even play golf and enjoyed his day. I’ve been to many U.S. Open’s and PGA Championships, but nothing really compares to the Masters. My Dad got to take a golf cart tour of the property and was in awe. I’d love to finagle my way into a pair of tickets and take him for father’s day one year.
2. Running of the Bulls in Spain – It's no Running of the Jew, but it's pretty close. Probably one of the most exhilarating activities ever. The adrenaline rush that comes with sprinting down the streets of Spain avoiding bulls charging is unparalleled. We’ve been told it’s actually more about not falling and getting trampled over by people than it is avoiding the bulls. Either way, I’m there. Sim Simma and I have talked about doing this for a couple of years now. We will get this done.
3. US Olympic Trials, Eugene, Oregon – Yeah I get it, I’m a track nerd. As I sit here typing this, I’ve got an IAAF Golden League track meet from Paris in my ear. I know you have no clue what that is; regardless, Drama and I will be there in 2012. Olympic Trials in Track Town USA and a visit to Pre’s Rock would be an unforgettable week.
4. A week of backpacking/ traveling through Colorado – I’ve been to a lot of places in the US, but I’ve never been to Colorado. It looks beautiful and I’d love to get out there to backpack/travel/run trails for a week. Palosaurus Rex talked about when we were in Saratoga, and I’d def be down for that.
5. Boston Marathon – One of the oldest and most respected marathons in the world. Boston is arguably the most historic city in the US and is in my old stomping grounds of New England. It takes a qualifying time to get in, which means I can’t get hurt running Philadelphia in November. I don’t know how long my knees are going to hold up, so I need to get this done ASAP.
6. Shoot the hooch – We have been talking about doing this for a solid 2 months now. It may happen tomorrow. It may never happen. We shall see. At some point we’re going.
7. Stay in an underwater hotel – Ever been to Dubai? Me neither. But thanks to a little natural resource called oil, they have more money than they know what to do with. Don’t believe me? Check out their tourism site. Let’s go visit and stay in this hotel.
8. Visit the Playboy Mansion – Do I need to say anything more?
9. Drive a Maserati – Ever since I became obsessed with Entourage, I’ve wanted a Maserati. Why couldn’t one of my childhood friends grown up to be a rich and famous actor I could mooch off? I was wasting time looking up cars and I found a used Quattroporte, 2006 model with 35,000 miles, for less than 50 G’s. That made me think my dream of owning one may actually be attainable. For now, I’d just settle with test driving one. Do they let you rent them anywhere? There has to be a place in Buckhead that does right? Maybe I should find a dealership and show up in suit to look important? I’m creative so I’ll keep working on that one.
10. European Travels – England, Spain, Italy, Greece, etc. – I think this one is pretty self-explanatory as well.

Well folks, there’s my bucket list for the next four year. Obviously, there’s more ridiculous shit I could put on here. I tried to make them at least slightly attainable goals. Yes, I’d love to go on a date with Marisa Miller, but is that really going to happen? Anybody got any other cool ideas? No, Rambo, I’m not going to recognize traveling to South America to do recreational drugs a bucket list item. And Drama, I expect one of these from you when you hit your midlife crisis next year…

Tour De Taco Mac

Drink 125 beers and become a passport member. It's a fun goal with the reward of a name plate, mug, and 4 extra ounces for every draught. Wanting to join others hitting this goal on Friday, I entered the week with 91 beers.

34 beers in one week is no easy feat, especially since you're limited to getting 6 a night, as I did Saturday night. With another few beers before Entoruage, I was now at 101. Addding 4 on Tuesday brought me to 105. And then 5 more beers should have brought me to 110.

That meant I need 9 more beers on Thursday, so I could finish with 6 beers on Friday at 125. I've always liked a good adventure, feeling it makes things a bit more exciting. I decided that I would run to 3 different Taco Macs and get a couple beers at each, however it soon turned into a competition within itself.

3:30pm Stage 1 of the TdTM: The first leg was a 3.5 mile run up Morningside to Rock Spring to Piedmont. Before leaving for the run, I had to pack carefully, wearing running shorts and a tight pair of boardshorts over them, hanging a shirt off my hip. I brought my license, taco mac card, and cash. After adding a housekey to my shoelace, I was ready. The run was easy, which is interesting because that distance used to be my long run.

3:50pm I near the end as I make a descent under I-85. I'm disappointed knowing that I'll have to start out my run with a treacherous uphill. Although I think Lindbergh is nearing, I end the run with a big ascent after going under the overpass. I'm only minutes away from my first beer and feeling pretty good with the running.

4:06pm Taco Mac 1: Lindbergh After waiting about 10 minutes, my server Kyndal finally shows up. I had wanted to take a less than half hour, but thanks to the slowness, that didn't look to be happening. It took another few minutes just to get a water and my list. Unfortunately my list, was 1 beer short, now I knew I needed 10. Since, I was running and drinking a lot, the goal for today was summer beers and cheap. My first choice was SHOCK TOP PINT. Finishing that in only a few minutes, I again had to wait long for my second choice, a SHINER HEFE. When she brought that out, I ordered my check and a WOODCHUCK RASPBERRY.

4:33pm Stage 2 TdTM In only a few minutes I would be leaving for my second leg, a 3 mile run down Piedmont to the Midtown Taco Mac. Thanks to the long wait for beers, my legs were feeling great. I didn't know the effect the alcohol would have on my stomach, but I was starting to feel drunk

4:48pm Only a few minutes into the run I was starting to feel the last few drinks and summer heat. The run felt great, but crossing traffic signals certainly started to get challenging. Once I climbed the hill I had previously worried about, Piedmont was a blast. Having more drinks than I expected at the first Taco Mac, I now had a new goal. I wanted to drink 10 beers, run 10 miles, in 3 or 4 hours.

5:21pm Taco Mac 2: Midtown I got my 2nd list and it already counted my afternoon 3 and read 112. With my new realization that I needed 10, I also realized I might be short on cash. My first beer was the cliche after a run: MICHELOB ULTRA. Drenched in sweat, most people had to be confused as hell with the sight of me. Pounding beers quickly, next up was HIGH LIFE LIGHT. Overhearing the guys next to me, the one thirty-year old wanted to quit his marketing job to pursue bartending, teaching, or something. I offered some advice as I ordered a another cheap beer, but the keg was out, so Rachel, my English bartender offered me the tastiest cheapest beer BLACK LABEL. I finished up with a LEINEKUGEL SUNSET WHEAT PINT.

6:07pm I just paid my bill. In 2.5 hours, I had 7 beers and 7 miles and felt even better than before with the air conditioning I just enjoyed. I was only a few miles from home and 3 beers in the highlands from completing my journey, which at this point felt easy. Except I stopped by Piedmont and enjoyed over 2 hours of volleyball.

8:01pm They lock the bathrooms at 8:00pm even though the sun hasn't even set. Stupid. I play and lose my final game of volleyball and decide it's time to start toward home.

8:36pm I stop by the guy's house because I have to pee. I have a small bladder and only pissed once. I guess I sweated out the rest. I borrow some extra cash to finish my odyssey.

8:48pm Taco Mac 3: Virginia Highlands Jeff just got cut, so Megan's my server. She does a great job getting me a MICHELOB LIGHT, BUD LIGHT, and finally the newest keg there, an ABITA PURPLE HAZE PINT. The drinks go down rather smooth and I'm ready to go home.

9:16pm I get my confirmation list. In fact, I now I have 119. Only 6 away! I run the 1 mile+ home and finally get something to eat. 10 beers, 10 miles, in 6 hours. All in all, I'm ready for JRoll's birthday.

Happy Hump Day!

After waking up and having my traditional breakfast of champions with J-Roll I headed over to my car ready to start my long work day. J-Roll then shouted his goodbye with a zealous, "Happy Hump Day!"

His valediction made me realize that this would be a long day as I climbed to the zenith of the Wednesday work mountain. But, I have finally reached the top and have a break from slightly breaking very expensive machines in the lab. During this break I began wondering, what the traditions of "hump day" were? Why are the days of the week named the way they are? And, how I could make millions of dollars so I wouldn't have to be at work right now? My answers came quickly as a result of our astounding technological age (Google): The traditions of hump day is to complain, sulk and/or tell jokes by the water-cooler. The days of the week are named after the planets with Wednesday being Mercury (the most emotional and workaholic of Greek planet Gods). And I am still working on the millions of dollars thing ... maybe this blog will take off? (Sigh) I'll keep dreaming.

Butt, (see what I did there? Man, I'm so clever) in order to keep with tradition and make your hump day today a little less dropping the soap with a side of prison ass-rape and a little more whip cream with a side of Mila Kunis and Jessica Alba, I have a few short jokes for you. Feel free to spread them around the office ... or in most of your cases (Drama, Ffej and Palosaurus Rex) whoever you end up meeting today.

How do you spot an Amish Redneck?
There's a dead horse up on blocks in his front yard.

Two Irish guys are fishing. The first guy reels in his line and sees that he's snagged an old bottle. As he's taking it off the hook, a genie pops out and promises to grant him one wish. "Turn the lake into beer," he says. The genie goes "Poof!" and the lake turns into beer. He says to the other guy, "So what do you think?" The other guy says, "You jerk. Now we've got to piss in the boat."

How do you know when you're too drunk to be driving?
When you swerve to miss the tree in the road and it turns out to be your air freshener.

Two blondes were walking through a field when they came across a set of tracks.
The first blonde looked down at the tracks and said, "I think they could be bird tracks."
The second blonde went to look and said, "No, I think these are deer tracks."
They continued to argue back and forth until they got run over by the train.

A Reflection on Today's Society:

Has the creation of internet communication rendered an entire generation illiterate?

To some, this post may seem random and unprovoked; however, after a discussion regarding the above issue over dinner at Taco Mac recently, I have decided to examine the topic a little more in depth. I was originally going to use this as the weeks "Grind my Gears," but after thinking about it, I realized the length was going to be too great and it should be an entire blog post instead. Hell, if some dude could write an entire book on the subject (a little different angle, but same topic and overall message), the least I could do was complete a blog entry. Below are a few questions that have troubled me over the past few years that I would like to attempt to answer. Hopefully, this post will generate discussion because I would definitely like to hear differing opinions on the subject.

Do people really misspell, use poor grammar, and demonstrate a complete lack of intellect because they are lazy or because they don't know any better?
This is a difficult question because I truly believe the answer depends on the individual. I believe some people are not intelligent, while others, for one reason or another, just don't give a shit. I'm sure sometimes it's even a combination of both possibilities. I was fortunate enough to be raised in a relatively affluent area (granted, it wasn't Bethesda, but still...)throughout my childhood and my parents were able to send me to one of the better high schools in New Hampshire. Because of this, and my subsequent college education at a top university, I continually convince myself that my acquaintances are not actually stupid, they are just lazy. After extensive reflection, I've come to realize that this may not actually be the case.

Why are the so called "educated" people butchering the English language every time they sit down to write something?
Is there some sort of sense of "rebellion" because emailing/ instant messaging/ blog posting/ etc. are not being graded by teachers? Is it because individuals have become so reliant of Microsoft Word corrections that when they aren't using it, their inability to use proper spelling and grammar become evident? What happens when they do use Word? Do they believe that since the spelling and grammar check catches some errors that it actually corrects everything? Or am I giving college graduates too much credit and they really are horrible with the English language? Do people really not know the difference between there, their, and they're? Do they really not know the characteristics of different tenses? What is 1st person? 3rd person? Maybe they really don't know. Don't get me wrong here, I make mistakes sometimes as well; I'm definitely not a master at the English language by any means, but come on people! When did we learn some of these simple rules? 3rd grade?

Are these bad habits creeping into the "real world?"
Yes, absolutely. One hundred percent yes. I have many examples I could use to prove my point. Most of them occurred in college and not in my specific work setting, but those people I did group projects with have graduated and are now working somewhere aren't they?

What is the solution?
I truly do not know the answer to this one either. I'm sure as I type this post there are people much smarter and more educated than I will ever be, working on this issue, trying to find a solution. What I do know is that, when my only true interaction with someone is through one of these mediums and they continually demonstrate a lack of desire/care regarding how they are perceived, as well as an apparent inability to grasp simple concepts of the English language, I am forced to wonder if they carry their lack of attention to detail to other aspects of their life. How do they conduct themselves in the real world when these things matter? Would I be willing to collaborate on a project or conduct business with any of them? While I have been unable to answer many of the questions I addressed here, I can answer the last one without hesitation: emphatically NO.

Farting Friday

Yesterday, I farted while working in the lab.

It was a silent passing of gas, you know a feeling of relief and ease once you know that you haven't tooted your ass-trumpet for all the kingdom to hear. However, since it was silent I did not get the rewarding giggle or shocked and dismayed facial expressions from the more mature members that I work beside. Unfortunately, my furtive fart was deadly, noxious and straight up virulent. I don't know what I ate, but I couldn't take my own smell and unfortunately since it came from me I couldn't escape it either no matter how much walking away from previous red zones I tried. Then just when I was feeling hopeless, fruitlessly holding my breath like a trenched soldier without a gas mask, something amazing happened. The one other girl working in the lab stopped what she was doing and began sniffing the air. I thought, "Oh no! This is going to be damn embarrassing! How am I going to explain this?" But after a couple head turns and then her final horrified sniff she said matter of factly, "Oh man! There must be a chemical container open or the fume hood is off." Needless to say, I was doing everything I could to hold in my laughter. I was slowly poisoning this girl with my ass and she thought it was due to some methane bottle (I guess it kind of was). Obviously this opportunity was too good to be true and I had to play along. So then I suggested we search the fume hoods and find where the leak was and fix it. After walking around the lab sniffing the air with her and checking the sealed containers we both concluded that the smell MUST have come from the fume hood and if it happened again we should get a supervisor. Truly one of the best moments I have had working in the lab. Because of this fantastical fart I found out that my job position allows me to get away with silent farting whenever! So now I am off to the lab to let one rip. Enjoy this old Adam Sandler classic and I hope you all have a good farting Friday!

I'm on a boat

So quite possibly the most anticipated eating contest we've ever competed in occurred in Saratoga, NY this last weekend. Simma and I joked that we could eat so much more with an herbal supplement but I thought better of it then to try to bring it on the plane to NY. Right after we go through airport security Simma makes it known to me that he has lots of pockets and it's a good thing he's a little white boy. Simma having his priorities in order then proceeds to call in sick from the phili airport at 8:30 in the morning and makes sure his boss knows that if he feels better he'll be in that afternoon.

Skip to that afternoon, we're all starving and forcing ourselves not to eat in order to compete against JRoll's dad & uncles in an eating contest. They outweigh us by 300 lbs easily and the largest guy, Captain Dave, is literally two of me. In order to set the hunger aside, we go tubing on JRoll's boat and the water was like glass, so it was a blast.

So without going too much into the rules... we had a commissioner, 2 score keepers, t-shirts, and a whole restaurant watching us eat foot long battered + fried fish filets in hot dog buns. These suckers came steaming hot and the first couple actually tasted pretty damn good. We were cruising after 2 each, 3 each we started to feel it, 4 each and I knew I was getting there, but JRoll's pops had thrown in the towel after 4 so I had to push myself. I barely finished my 5th and called it quits. JRoll and Simma were still trying to eat when Simma decided to shove 1/2 a fish in his mouth and proceeded to boot on the table in a pile of napkins. Unfortunately they were sitting right next to each other and JRoll couldn't eat anymore. Only Captain dave was able to finish 6 of the fish fries and the teams tied at 15 each.

That night, we somehow managed to start drinking, playing cards, and decided to do a recon mission in downtown Toga. It was very quiet, although being a wednesday night, that was understandable. We grabbed a pitcher, listened to a cover band, and on the way back, we got a couple texts from PalosaurusRex saying he's boarding the plane. Sucka flew redeye.



The other big moments, palosaurusrex took a great picture on the night of the 4th -->
, $14 PBR pitchers at the bar on the lake, Palosaurusrex singing friends in low places at karaoke, and singing I'm on a boat mother fucker take a look at me! In hindsight... we probably would have won that eating contest had dave & I figured out a way to use that herbal supplement without JRoll's family catching on.

The Job Interview (Ep. 668)

So with the Atlanta3 gone for the weekend, I'm taking it upon myself to keep this blog chugging. Unfortunately with everyone out of town, it's going to be an interesting time hanging out with people that I don't normally see, um, for a reason.

Anyway, the Phillies are playing in Atlanta. I'm the biggest fan and have to go to every game I can. Knowing that Blondy is from Philly, I text her to see if she wants to go with me and she happily agrees. She's a nice pretty girl, but on our sushi date, it felt like a job interview. She would ask me questions and I'd respond. I'd try to spicen up the conversation, but to no avail. I don't know why, but we just didn't click.

Giving this a second chaance, I try my best. For the first time in my life I washed my car with a quick trip to the dollar store. (Sidebar: There are so many things you can do cheaply. Rather than paying about $20 at Target for supplies, it cost me $3).

So anyway, I park my car near Grant Park and we walk the 600 meters to the ballpark. At this point the conversation isn't exciting, but it's okay. We stand in line for tickets and I tell her to take out her student id. When we finally get to the counter, I get the $7 student tickets (which are such great seats), and throw my credit card to pay for them. Here's the strange thing: I bought her ticket and she didn't really say thank you. She never tried to pay or seem appreciative. Weird.

When in the ballpark, she didn't really to seem much of a baseball fan or know much about it. That was fine, but she pretended to be a big Phillies fan, wore the shirt, and everything. The game really sucked as the Braves pitched a one-hitter winning 9-1. Throughout most of the game, she didn't say much. I asked a few questions, so I guess I was mostly doing the job interview. I even asked this one, "if you played baseball, what position would you play?" There's a lot you could do with that question, but she simply answered, "pitcher." I'm not going to be the catcher.

While walking home, she conversed a little more. But then there's this car parked on the side of the road. This blog will appreciate the fact that the shady looking man riding shotgun flashed his badge at me. What the fuck did I do wrong? "Hey, are you guys from around here." As we both wear Phillies shirts, I think how to answer this question and why I'm in trouble. Learning from Simms, I say, "Nope, just visiting for the Phillies game." To which he replies, "Well then you probably don't know that a lot of women have been getting pushed to ground and their purses stolen." Thanks dude, as if this friendship date weren't bad enough, you're going to scare the shit out of her. They continue, "I guess you wouldn't know that since you're not from here, but where are you going."

I wonder if it's possible thaat the cops have nothing better to do than follow me around for having Pennsy plates. Just in case, I go for the big lie, "We were just in town for the Phillies game and spent the day at Grant Park, so I figured we'd just walk to the game." Right now, I'm thinking that talking to Douche Cop now puts us at risk for a mugging right in front of them. I keep joking that I'll be safe and I want to go. The cop then asks, "Do you want a ride to your car?" NO! Just leave me the frick alone. After about another block of walking Blondy wonders out loud if she maybe we should have gotten a ride. Thanks Douches.

So anyway, we drive home and I drop her off. Perhaps adding some alcohol to the situation might help. I know what I'm looking for in a girl and in friends, so I'm hoping that maybe we'll really hit it off the next time?

EPILOGUE: As I'm writing this story, I get a phone call from a random 404 phone number. It turns out she lost her cell phone and thinks it might be in my car. It's not there, but it makes me wonder, without her phone, how'd she know my number???

Michael Jackson Lives

Don't believe the press. Michael Jackson is alive and well. Just like Elvis and 2-pac before him he had enough of the crazy stress filled lifestyle of being a music sensation and is taking it easy for a while before he joins the "King" and Makaveli in Havanna to chill out on the beach for the rest of his days.

How do I know this?!? Well, I saw him at Popeyes on Buford Highway an hour ago ... I swear to God! Here is a picture I took with my phone ... it's a little blurry, but thats what you get from the Verizon Juke. But, can you really mistake that haunting of a pale and plastic surgery morphed face? I think, not. It's like seeing the face of Gollum (Lord of the Rings) and Jenn from the Dark Crystal combined, but in real life on a human body! Simply, un-mistakable.

But, if I am wrong and it wasn't him and the world media is right ... may he rest in peace. I remember watching MTV for the very first time near Halloween and at the caution of my friend's parents seeing Thriller and absolutely loving it. He is truly a legend and because I viewed him as such I never thought he could/ would die . However, keep on the lookout for MJ sightings ... an older gentleman moonwalking through the vegetable aisle at Kroger or the guy next to you at the urinals finishing up with the classic crotch grab and high pitched "Oww!" ... he may still be out there just sick of being the greatest pop-star this world has ever known.

Further proof: In 2001 this song came out. Eight years of planning finally put into effect.

BETHESDA 911:

Simm Simma, I've long considered you and I to be almost polar opposites in many respects, a Dr. Jekyll to my Mr. Hyde if you will. This recent story of yours now confirms one more way in which we represent opposite ends of the spectrum. Luck with the police. Those of you who know both Simma and I might find it ironic that HE occupies the negative end of that spectrum. Me? I think it goes beyond ironic, almost bordering on fucking hilarious.

Case and point, last weekend my friend J. Tarr and I were coming back from a party in Virginia. We had caught both of the last trains we needed to get back to the neighborhood where we parked our cars, and were about drunk drive home, which is usually the safest and most uneventful part of the journey. Tarr asked if we could chill out for a minute, so we sat on the curb, literally right next to my car. As we sat there having a smoke and talking who should drive by but Montgomery County's finest. The car slowed down almost to a stop, but kept going out onto the main road. Mr. Tarr suggested we mount up and make for the DC border where the cops have real problems to deal with, but I knew better, and insisted we stay put. Sure enough, about 60 seconds later we were approached by 3 squad cars, two from the front and one to our rear. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing that the first police car drove by, scoped out two drunk skinny white boys sitting quietly on the curb, bounced out and then called in re-enforcements. I mean, honestly was that really necessary? All we were doing was discussing how 'The Price is Right' isn't as good without Bob Barker. They could have just rolled down the window and said: "Hey kid, why don't you cut Drew Carey a break, he's trying his best and he's got some pretty big shoes to fill! Oh and by the way, if you try to drive home I'm gonna empty my can of mace in your eyes." But I guess it was a slow night, or they had all just watched 'Training Day' 5 times in row. So anyway, they roll up 3 deep, game faces on, shine Mag-lights into our eyes and encircle our position. We stay seated and calmly exchange the usual pleasantries in the traditional cop-civilian language, which I have translated into plain English below:

Cops: "Hey guys, how are you two this evening?" (We know you're both fucked up, but how fucked up are you?)
Us: "We're fine officers, how about yourselves" (We're shitfaced.)
Cops: "Fine thanks. What brings you boys out here tonight?" (You stupid bastards were about to drive home drunk weren't you?)
Us: "We walked here from the Metro and were taking a rest before walking back to our houses." (You fuckers have got jack shit on us and you know it!)
Cops: "Can I see both of your driver's licenses please." (We'll just see about that.)
[We hand over our driver's licenses]
Cops: "The reason we've stopped you guys is that we've had reports of some car brake-ins tonight. You guys wouldn't mind if we checked you out real quick now, would you?" (Ok - you know the drill shitbirds. On your feet, face the other direction, spread your legs and put your hands behind your head. Let's see if you can talk your way out of narcotics possession!)
Us: [Assuming the position] "Nope, go ahead." (Hahaha! I already used my drugs on the subway ride over here asswipe, try not to get a boner when you feel up my cock!)

During the search, I was asked to empty my pockets because the officer thought he had found something. It turns out the suspicious item was my $1.99 cell phone. After the sensual body rub from the 5-0 J-Tarr and I were allowed to sit back down on the curb, but advised to keep our hands in full view (despite coming up clean on a search). The police did the whole scanning of the IDs thing which took the usual 15 minutes or so, and then we were released with the usual "Have a safe rest of the evening" which really means "One day you're gonna slip up, and when you do we'll be on you like AIDS on Africa"

If we had not taken that one minute rest before driving, or we had booked it after seeing the first cop car, or Sim Simma had been there we might have had landed in some real hot water, but thankfully, that was not the case. We ended the night by celebrating our good fortune at 7-Eleven with a feast of Slurpees and Funions.

So Sim Simma, though you may hold the favorable ground in morals, values, sex appeal, a healthy family life, mental stability, dancing, emotional capacity, chemical addiction, and, most importantly, Super Smash survival, you are still probably going to get arrested before I do. Probably.

Your friend and nemesis,

-Rambo

VIRGINIA HIGHLANDS 911:

A policeman pulls a man over for speeding and asks him to get out of the car. After looking the man over he says, "Sir, I couldn't help but notice your eyes are bloodshot. Have you been drinking?" The man gets really indignant and says, "Officer, I couldn't help but notice your eyes are glazed. Have you been eating doughnuts?!?"

I loathe the police. I can not recall a single time they have ever been of help to me in my life. The only times I have come in contact with them I have not been doing anything wrong, but am still subjugated to their power tripping. Here are just a couple incidents that come to mind immediately:

1) I was 17 and playing dodge ball at the local park with my friends. A cop pulls up and shines a flashlight into the backseats of every car in the parking lot. He then stops our game and tells us all to line up against the fence. Confused and not getting any answers from him we give our names/ licences and he retreats into his squad car threatening us not to move or else. After I assume looking us up on his computer or waiting the right amount of time, according to his Cop Guidebook, to emit extreme intimidation tactics he comes out and tells us that whoever's car a white Honda was that had alcohol in the back seat was going to jail. After an hour of us not saying anything, because we had no idea whose car it was, a man comes over to pick up the extra beer in the car. It turned out he was in charge of the adult pool party going on adjacent to the park. The cop leaves without saying a word of apology.

2) This should really be it's own separate post, but here is a quick lowdown of the infamous Flaming Coconut incident. A large party is going on in the Highland Square apartments. Some of our friends from the Crazy Beaver are over and we are eating ice cream sandwiches on whole wheat. I jokingly kid that the party is booming and that we should kick it up a notch and lite something on fire! My roommate proceeds to go outside and light a coconut on fire using a large amount of lighter fluid. Funny? Yes, and then severely no. Being upstairs in the party I can only account for what I saw next. Yelling from outside gets me to the balcony where I see my roommate running around the parking lot with the flaming coconut in his hands. He then proceeds to try and play catch with J-Roll and by catch I mean he threw and J-Roll said, "What the fuck are you thinking?" The coconut rolls underneath my car still aflame. On the balcony and waiting to see my car burst into flames, I begin cursing at my roommate to put out the coconut. He gets the coconut and I go inside. I hear the cops are being called on the party. I then usher everyone out and go to bed. An hour or so later a cop is banging loudly on my door. I answer because it is all dark in my apartment and I can't sleep with this crazy banging. He walks right past me as I open the door demanding every one's ids that live there. He literally pulls my roommates out of their beds. In our boxers and shorts we are then paraded down in the middle of the night to stand in front of his cop car in the cold with his searchlight on us as he curses at us from his megaphone and calls us up one at a time to receive our disorderly conduct tickets. Needless to say the situation by this cop was incredibly illegal and as a result of him and a bitch of an ex-girlfriend I ended up breaking my knuckle that night in two places from punching a wall out of frustration. Dumb response ... but sometimes testosterone just gets the better of you.

3) I was once almost accused of raping a girl in a car when the officer came to the foggy window. I was told to get the fuck out of the car and put my hands on the hood. The cop then left when he found out A) I still had my clothes on B) It was the girl's car C) The girl was on top of me in the passenger seat. At least apologize for ruining the moment, geez.

4) The reason for this post is that this past Monday I was driving with Ffej to meet Drama for his weekly sushi fix at Thaicoon. Not even a block from my house a cop pulls me over and issues me 3 tickets. One for not having my seat belt on and two for having a Maryland licence and tag. I WAS ONLY A BLOCK FROM HOME! FML I should have lied to him and told him I was an Emory student or just visiting the area. Drama, that was the most expensive man-date ever. I now have to go to court July 30 and after my past two experiences there from the Infamous Flaming Coconut Incident I would rather get circumcised again or have a quick and sloppy enema.

So my question is why do police officers have such power trips? As Drama said to me, "The whole thing is a racket." I totally agree with him. I feel police will do anything to intimidate you into giving their department more money. In fact, Dunwoody, GA is infamous for putting signs behind bushes so that people will blow through stop signs, etc. in order for the officers to give tickets. It is all absurd.

But, I do think people want to do something to fight back, but don't know how. We want to contact our congressman and argue that these meaningless tickets such as rolling through a stop sign when nobody is around are misuse of our taxpaying money when there are crackheads around the corner that scare the crap out of us when we leave Kroger at night (for real someone has got to do something about that crazy guy). But after a night of resting on it we don't contact anyone and instead dream what it would be like to somehow fight fire with fire. It is for this reason that we love icons such as Bonnie and Clyde and John Dillinger. Deep down everyone wants to break the chains of the law that are holding them down to their mediocre non-gun toting lives. Basically I am saying I really want to see Public Enemies this weekend after getting three tickets ... that or as Ffej suggested play some Grand Theft Auto and just blow some squad cars up. Either option and I think I will feel better.