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.

consultants- you give them your watch and they tell you what time it is

these posts are always difficult for me to write because i'm not as funny as rambo and not as much random shit happens to me as simmsimma.

right now, the world is my oyster. my class is only four days a week and i have been burning candles at both ends most every day of the week. you could say my life is a bit like warhammer's, except that i leave my room and i do not exclusively hang out with anyone below 60 inches.

the last two weekends, i have done some really killer hikes around the area (pacific northwest plug- it is beautiful here). on two separate occasions i went with recent divorcees. the first guy that i went with is 35 and a fellow law student. he is coming off his second divorce. he then quasi-dated, and was subsequently dumped by a woman who had also been recently divorced (the week after her mom died, her husband, before leaving for work, told her that she was fat and that he wanted a divorce). on my hike, this guy would not shut the fuck up. he was an emotional wreck and told me every story about any woman he had a relationship with. this went on for ten miles. i was his pack mule carrying all of his fucking emotional damage. today, i went with my cousin, who is 23 and got divorced a few months ago. we talked for a while on our lengthy hike, but not once did he mention his ex-wife. i don't know if that is really healthy, but i sure know who i enjoyed hiking with.

my cousin works as a consultant here in seattle. in honor of jroll's recent post, i thought that i would share a consultant joke that he told me. a wife and husband decide to go out to a nice dinner one evening. they order drinks to start out with and the wife notices that every waiter in the restaurant has a spoon in their front apron pocket. the wife asks the waiter about the spoon and the waiter says that they had recently hired a consulting firm. the consultants said that spoons were the most commonly dropped utensil. if the watiers carried a spoon on them, they would not have to make a trip to the kitchen and back to the table, thus saving 75 man hours a week. sure enough, during her meal, the wife dropped her spoon and the waiter gave her the spoon from his apron pocket. the husband then noticed that every waiter in the restaurant had a string tied to his fly. the husband asked the waiter about this oddity and the waiter explained that the consultants had suggested it. when the waiter goes to the bathroom, he uses the string to pull out his dick. because he does not touch his dick, he does not have to wash his hands, thus saving 100 man hours a week. the wife asks how he got his dick back in his pants. the waiter responded, "i'm not sure about everyone else, but i just use the spoon."

loved the last small world post drama. i met you for about three days and i feel a lot more familiarity with you then the people that you see frequently.

on a somber note, i would like to finish this post about iran. my mom is from iran, i got to see the country for three weeks last summer. my mom's brother was active in a student democratic movement during the revoluation and barely escaped the country with his life when current regime took over. my mom has lost a lot of friends and extended family to the upheavals during the revolution. i have been so emotionally invested in the current happenings and i have been talking to my extented family all week. i have no clue what will happen tomorrow or in the next month in the country. the one thing that i can say for certai, is that the courage the prosters in the country have shown throughout the week brings me to tears. i wish that i had half the strength that they have shown to stand up for my convictions.

It's a small world after all

I love Atlanta, but there are only so many places to venture. On a sunny day if you want to leave your house, you can hit up an apartment complex pool, Piedmont Park, or the Emory campus. At night, your options are a little more plentiful, but not as much as you'd expect. There are three basic areas: The Highlands, Buckhead, and Midtown. Although there are a few bars in Midtown, it's mostly a district for intense clubbing. In Buckhead, there's Fado, East Andrews, Triple Threat and some smaller southern bars. While in the Highlands, there's Hand-in-Hand/Neighbors, Darkhorse Tavern, and Fontaine's/Noche.

The basic point is that you are bound to see the same people on a repeated basis. One day while playing volleyball in Piedmont, Simma and I saw three different people running that we knew, saw a couple that played volleyball with us a year ago, and a fourth runner that is always at the Tuesday ATC track meets. It's fun to see the park so used, so alive, and so vivid.

There are some positives, as well as some negatives to running into the same people over and over again. Perhaps you'll try a new taco mac to take a break from a waitress or you've embarrassed yourself at a bar. It happens and then you get over it. But it is astounding to me that people you know will go out of their way to ignore each other and even get mad for having to share that space with other people. I'm sorry but when you go out, you might see people you know, and gasp you might even have to leave your bubble and make new friends.

I'm the type of person that always like to see an old face. Even if they're an enemy of sorts, I always show the other person the respect of a friendly 'hello.' I might not spend more than a few seconds with this exchange, but it seems like human decency to acknowledge the person.

I wish we lived in a world where we try to include people and live without worries and just have fun. Unfortunately most people don't think like me. I'll tell you this much, I'm not the type of person that will flee to some random suburban bar in Dunwoody or Lawrenceville just to avoid a certain person or an entire demographic of people. I live, work, and play in Atlanta. Deal with it. So if you see me at a Braves game, don't act like I'm encroaching on your space and that I'm not allowed to be there. Honestly if that's who you are as a person, do our small world a favor and just stay home.

Hotlanta Lives Up To It's Name

I just played soccer at lunch and almost died of heat stroke. I didn't check the weather before going outside, but it is close to 100 degrees. Even after taking a long cold shower I am sweating balls in my cubicle.

But you know what? I LOVE it. I feel summer has truly arrived when I want nothing more than to go to the pool and sit there frying slowly in the UV rays. In fact this whole past week, since J-Roll and Warhammer were gone, I kept the AC off and made my house into a sauna. I refused to wear much else besides boxers, which made it awkward when a girl came to my glass front door asking for money for the Democratic Party. Not sure if my boxers were riding up as I was laying there like a glowing ember on our wood colored couch, but she left promptly due to not being able to handle the vivid and magnificent view or me just shaking my sweat covered head 'no' at her that I wasn't going to get my lazy ass up and walk 3 feet to the door.

Unfortunately, Warhammer came home last night and being the giant whispering eye that he is (since he hasn't posted anything for a month knowing that I will mercilessly ridicule him) called me a Jew (I actually take offense to this) and turned the AC back on. Last night I actually didn't sleep well due to it being too cold. I kept waking up shivering and had to pull the extra blanket over me ... ridiculous. I either have to get used to the cool air or start an AC war. I'd put your money on the latter.

Mythbusters Episode #69:

The Life and Times of a Consultant - Is it really all that glamorous?

Traveling! All expenses paid! Collecting free miles and points like a Vegas prostitute collects your money! Isn't that splendid?!?

Today marks my official one year anniversary entering the "real world" and I believe now is as a good a time as ever to analyze what I have accomplished this past year. I'd like to take this time to debunk a few myths I've come across while attempting to climb the corporate ladder:

Myth #1: Traveling to other cities is awesome!
My main client's in California! Totally hella rad dude! Well, my client is actually in Ontario. Do me a favor and go look up Ontario, CA for me (never mind, I did it for you lazy asses) and let me know if you think it's a place you'd like to visit on a regular basis. Yeah, sometimes I get to go down to Newport Beach on Thursday nights, but that's only because I know somebody who lives there. If I didn't, then I wouldn't and this would suck a lot more. Other clients for my company are in such miserable places as Darlington, SC, Springfield, MO, and Bedford, PA. So every time you get lucky and travel out to San Diego, there's a 4 month trip to Macon, GA waiting for you when you get back.

Myth #2: The perks from traveling are easy to get and so worth it.
I think every time Simma has flown on Delta with me recently, I've been upgraded to first class so I think he has a skewed impression of what actually happens. I do have a very solid chance to get upgraded on random weekend trips that the 2 of us take (and how many has that been in the past year? 2?) because of my elite status. However, when I travel Mon-Fri with the rest of the corporate world, I am so far down the totem pole I get treated like I'm Butters from South Park."Aw poor J Roll" everybody's saying. But guess what? A lot of times I'm stuck praying for an upgrade because the way my job works, I've book a flight less than a week in advance. You know what's left then right? The two most dreaded words: Middle Seat. (By the way - the guy in that article is an utter moron. He avoids exit rows because you can't move the arm rest and there's a better chance all 3 seats will be filled? Are you F'ing kidding me dude? I've been traveling for a year and I could write a more informed article.) Anyways, I'm 6'4" here people and 4 hour flights in middle seats do not work well. If I lived in Canada, I could probably file a lawsuit (like FAT PEOPLE did - hey if obesity is a disability why can't being tall be one as well?) and maybe I could get the seat in front of me knocked down for free. But Canada blows and I would never move there so I guess that's out of the question.

Myth #3: Work on site is just like the office.
Everybody sees the 8:30-5:30 average hours I work in the office and think, "man that's not too bad. He makes a little more and he works a little longer so it all balances out." Well, I don't work 8:30-5:30 when I'm on the road. A light day is 7:30-6. I've spend 25 hours of my first 2 days out here in the distribution center. 25! That's 12 Monday, 13 Tuesday for those of you counting at home. Awesome.

Myth #4: Traveling every week has no effect on your social life.
I miss some shit my roommates do. I don't have anyone to even think about playing volleyball or hitting golf balls with. The only time I'm left with to build a relationship with girls is weekend nights out a bars and I hate trying to pick up girls at bars unless I'm retardedly (take that Special Olympics campaign, you can't take my freedom of speech away!) hammered. Maybe I'm just using this as an excuse for a lack of game, but that's really just not my style. When I go out at night, I want to spend some time hanging out with friends and maybe talk to 1 or 2 girls. The probably of finding someone compatible in 1 or 2 girls is extremely small. And besides, the last chick I went out on a date with was apparently dating (or about to be) another dude. Don't worry though, we went, I paid, never heard back and found out a month later through a mutual friend. There's $90 down the drain.

Myth #5: Consultants actually enjoy their work.
Drama and I had a long discussion about this on our road trip last weekend. He's doing something he loves. Work is his passion and I envy him for that. He enjoys going to work every day and I don't. Don't get me wrong, I don't dread it, but it's not like I jump out of bed every morning and run down stairs like a 5 yr old on Christmas to get to the office and sit in a cubicle for 8+ hours. I don't really care who you are, that's about as much fun as watching the entire Sex and the City marathon on TBS. For me, work isn't my passion; it's more like I'm working FOR my passion. This job has enabled me to do everything I wanted to my first year out, so in that regard, I'm happy. I'll take that and move on.

All bitching aside, I just wanted to convey the message that consulting really is not as glamorous as it initially appears (granted I'd take it over law school any day of the week). The hours on the road aren't what they look like at home; the traveling perks are only a result of sitting in airports or on planes for 10+ hrs a week; and even though I've been able to check out some really cool places on weekends (Say what up to Seattle for me Palosaurus Rex - I'll make it back there again soon), I see nothing but the inside of a DC and my hotel room during the week.
Regardless, I'm eternally grateful for my job, especially in this economy. Even though the work can sometimes be boring and tedious, I really enjoy working with everyone in my company. I've been to places I never imagined I'd go, and I've met some very unique individuals from across the globe.

PS - Did I mention I'm flying to Hawaii for 10 days in August? Guess how much that flight cost? Booyakasha!

The Fu-Manchu War!

I got the privilege to talk to Palosaurus Rex on the phone the other day and realized after I hung up that I did not inquire about his other half ... his fabulous mustache. This glorious womb broom (thanks Rambo) was grown by Palosaurus Rex a couple months ago due to the soul crushing nature of first year law school final exams. I honestly believe the magnificent mustache was the "handle bar" in which he could grab a hold of his sanity and make it through final exams until the summertime (and the livins easy).

This got me thinking about moustaches today so I did a little research. I found that there is a World Beard and Moustache Competition every year!!!! You have to check out some of the wonders of facial hair. And I would just like to say that the U.S.A. kicked some serious ass at the last Championships (12 Gold Medals, baby! USA! USA! USA!). So, in honor of Palosaurus Rex's manly stache, and to prove that it holds up to even the greatest of staches, I have created the following poll. Enjoy:

Whose Fu-Manchu is the best?
	Hulk Hogan
	Palosaurus Rex
	Michael "Water-Bong" Phelps
	This Random Chinese Guy
pollcode.com free polls

And just think ... there are only 700 more days until the next World Championship competition! Keep growing boys, keep growing.

Backsliding Forward (Ep. 666)

Backsliding - to lapse morally or in the practice of religion

The metal on metal sound of my brakes finally became too much for me, so it was in the shop. I dropped it off yesterday, running the 4 miles home. It was fixed with new brake pads and rotors today, so I ran 4 miles with a gnarly uphill to retrieve it.

And of course the first thing I did with my refined automobile was to pick up a hitchhiker. It's a habit of mine to try to live by the Golden Rule. There have been many times, I've been stuck walking home in the rain or on a very long journey, hoping for a [hot blond female, preferably between the age of 20-23] stranger to pick me up on the side of the road.

People argue against this genuine kindness because of the risks of some random person walking on the side of the road, so they'd rather just donate a buck to charity or harass their friends into donating for some selfish 5k or trip abroad. Even donating time to some organizations is useless, because they have so many volunteers they don't really need your help.

I've always thought it was much more important to give back (and immediately) to the community. Back in Jersey, there was a man in my town who had malformed legs and could barely walk, yet he'd struggle to complete his chores and get back to his house. It was dumbfounding that few to none others would give him a ride. He had mental and physical problems but he was clearly not a threat.

Besides the good deed itself, there is a benefit of meeting new people, another character to enrich our experiences. On my way back to Memphis one year, I drove an 19 year old runwaway/orphan entirely across the state. After over 35 waking hours, I regretted the 4 hours of company, but it was interesting. The kid survived by fishing in local creeks and was trying to visit his brother being deployed from Colorado. He also smelled bad. I would never want his lifestyle, nor do I think he wanted it either.

Today's character was very thankful for his trip south down Clairmont Rd into Decatur. It was barely out of my way, yet once he strated rambling it felt like forever. He started explaining that he was the poor sibling in the family (no kidding). Next he explained he was food poisoned by his apartment complex because the oven never heated up enough (couldn't you simply tell your food wasn't cooked enough?). He could have sued them but he didn't, so he claimed. And then he suffered from chronic insomnia, but if you ate turkey or bananas on an empty stomach you'd fall asleep. Next he explained these problems were understandable because he was backsliding.

I'd never heard the term before, but the next 5 minutes, I was proselytized. I never believed in a vengeful god, let alone in the definiteness of a god, but I just listened. He encouraged me to find Jesus again and again, despite me never saying anything to the contrary. It reminded me of my wonderful PATH trips sleepily in the morning to work, when some dude would wait until the longest time between stops and start reading from the Bible at the top of his lungs. Everyone was trapped and would try to ignore the annoyance as best as possible, but every now and then somebody that must have listened to a crying baby the entire previous night, would scream at him to shut the hell up.

Getting out the door, he reminded that god was responsible for all his problems and that I should find Jesus. He thanked me and I drove away. I doubt I'll find myself in a religious building until Simma's wedding, but the experience reminded me how important it is to stop being so guarded in this terror-alert, elevated-society and lend a helping hand.

Post # 2: [Rail] Road Warrior

Who runs the train better than the Japanese? No one, that’s who. From the airport to downtown Tokyo, the suburbs and beyond I haven't spent that much time riding the train since the Quad City DJ's were hot. It's no joke when I say these guys run more trains in one day than Duke Lacrosse, Vivid Videos, and Three Six Mafia combined. The hundreds of square miles of dense urban sprawl that is Tokyo are connected by thousands of miles of train tracks.

Trains in Tokyo are the center of all culture, entertainment, commerce, and life in general. The biggest nightspots, malls, hotels, etc. are usually located at or near to a big transfer station. Sometimes it is difficult to determine where a shopping mall ends and a train station begins. Unlike the public transit you're probably accustomed to the trains in Japan are clean, reliable, and mostly crime free. There is a bizarre lack of homeless people, crackheads, the mentally insane, or talkative conspiracy theorists. Furthermore I did not witness a single domestic disturbance or act of violence or abuse the entire time I was there. Needless to say I was shocked and appalled. Without these basic staples of American public transport where could I go to find out how the Pope is really an alien spy, or how black nationalism could have prevented the recession? The Tokyo train system is so safe that it is not uncommon to see children taking the train, alone, late at night, without any adult escort - this is not an exaggeration, I actually saw this. I could only imagine what would happen in that scenario on MARTA. If the statistics were available I have no doubt they would show that the annual crime rate (total, not per capita) would be higher in the 800 block of Highland Square than it would be on all trains and buses in Tokyo.

While public transport is safe, it is also more confusing then roman numeral algebra. Should I take the pink line or the magenta one? Am I supposed to go to Akasaka or Asuksa? Where the fuck am I and how in God's name did get here? These are all questions you may find yourself asking if ever riding a train in Japan. Station names and train line names are written in English and Japanese, but the names are frequently hard to pronounce, remember, or differentiate from one another. There are also two different 'levels' of trains within Tokyo, the JR East network and the Tokyo Subway. If you try to look at both systems together you begin to hemorrhage from the eyes, so I've included two separate maps. Let's first take a peek at the JR.

This monstrosity connects Tokyo proper with its vast suburbs and edge cities. As a point of reference I've drawn a black line over the Yamanote Line which is a circular loop around Tokyo. This system is owned and operated privately and thus is nicer and more expensive than the Tokyo Metro. It is also more difficult to use.

Next let's look at the Tokyo Metro map. Many of the Metro stations are transfer points to the JR lines, however, since they are owned and run separately you must exit one system, then enter the other through different gates. Often this involves finding your way through a maze of tunnels and underground shopping malls. Sometimes you fuck up and wind up in a novelty shop specializing in erotic men's lingerie, it happens. The Tokyo Metro is mostly underground and mostly within the confines of the Yamanote line (again outlined in black).

Now the main problem with this bad boy is that there are usually about 5 different ways to get from point A to point B and it's not always clear which one is best. Also, for some weird reason some of the lines are private, and, if transferring you must exit the Metro and then pay separately to enter the private line. What's really annoying though is that the Metro closes at 12:30, even on Friday and Saturday. When I say close, I mean close. If you board a train at 12:27 that means that at 12:30 that train is going to stop at the next station and you're getting off, regardless of where you really wanted to go. What this meant in practice was that if you wanted to go out for a night on the town, you would either call it quits by 11:40 so as to not get stranded, or you would plan on drinking heavily until the trains re-open at 5 AM. Take it from someone who's done both; drinking until 5 AM is the only way to go, even if the ride home is a little painful.

Here are a few tips to taking the train out:
Bring a SUICA Card: Sort of like the breeze card for MARTA except its actually worth getting. This thing is a MUST for all travel as you can load it up with money and then switch freely between the different lines and systems, without one you will have to buy a new ticket each time you switch. Make sure there is enough on there to get there AND back, you do not want to have to look for an ATM in Tokyo, its like finding a needle in a stack of needles… when you're drunk.

Drink heavily: Bars are expensive and can get very busy. Drinking on the train ride over saves time and money. It's also 100% legal to drink on trains, or for that matter, anywhere else.

Bring a Train Map: Fuck it, bring two just in case you lose one. You will not survive without a good train map. They are available at tourist centers but not necessarily at the stations. They are infinitely valuable when you find yourself waking up on a park bench with no idea where you are or what happened after the cute Korean girl made you take a shot with her.

Bring a change of clothes: By clothes I mean shirt. You will get stuff spilled on you and you will sweat like a beer can in August. An extra T shirt or wifebeater stuffed in the back pocket is a good idea.

Bring Sunglasses: Its no coincidence that the trains start up right as the sun rises, its to punish those that spent all night drinking. A pair of mirrored sunglasses will protect you from the Sun's harsh, glaring judgment.

Drink heavily (again): A 24 oz. can of Kirin, available at any convenience store, is usually enough to delay a hangover until you're out of the sun. It also makes a bold statement to the throngs of Japanese schoolchildren you'll be sharing that early morning train with, (They go to school real early over there). This is an artistic interpretation of what a standard 5 AM train ride might have looked like.

The Hangover Retro-Diary

I would like to quickly thank Bill Simmons for gracing our blog with his presence the other day or I probably would have never thought of the idea for this entry...
So Sim Simma, Drama and I decided to go see the The Hangover Monday night. Sim Simma was going to go see it with Warhammer and their girls Sunday, but Drama and I weren't back from Charleston yet, and Sim Simma was gracious enough to wait a day to go watch it with us. You hear that Warhammer, ONE DAY! You couldn't wait ONE F*&#ING DAY to go see it with your bros! What a pal you are! Anyways, since we had great evening Monday (and let's be honest with ourselves here, how many times have we said that in our life? Seriously? I enjoy Mondays as much as I like watching Keeping up with the Kardashians.), I decided to write a mini retro-diary on the evening. I promise no spoilers for the losers who haven't seen the movie yet. I also would like to apologize for the ADD folks in the group (which I think is just about everyone), but diary's can only be so short even if they are "mini."

5 P.M. - About to leave work when I get a call from Sim Simma. Atlantic Station has the movie at 8:50, Midtown at 9:40. I suggest the 8:50 movie, but I can sense the resistance to that in his voice. I think I've finally reached the point in our friendship when I can actually determine when Sim Simma is being his usual indecisive self and when he actually wants to do something but doesn't say it. I'm on to you buddy.

6:15 P.M. - I get home from work and reluctantly agree to go to the 9:40 showing based on 3 points:
1. We can walk to/from the Midtown theater (neither of which we actually end up doing however).
2. The movie is short and therefore we could still get home before midnight so I won't turn into a pumpkin.
3. Even though that's later than I wanted, I remembered this is supposed to be a pretty funny movie. It's not like we were going to see Land of the Lost or something. (Quick tangent: When is Will Ferrell going to realize he's no longer relevant or funny anymore? Land of the Lost? Semi-Pro? Blades of Glory? Really??? He's done MAYBE 3 decent movies since Old School. When are producers going to recognize this and stop pumping $$ into him. I want to see a graphic showing the relationship between his screen time and movie revenue. I'm absolutely certain there's a negative correlation there. One of my readers get on this, I know you people have nothing better to do.)

8:15 P.M. - I get back from my nice 10 miler to finish my workout only to hear Standby's going on a date with some dude not named Sim Simma (WHAAAAAATTTT????). Something about thanking him for the blah blah blah. I stopped listening immediately because there is never a reasonable explanation to this in my mind. That's just not right Standby, and you know it.

9 P.M. - Finished my workout and head downstairs only to come across 4 fun facts (well I guess fun is a relative term here):
1. Standby wasn't kidding and actually left to go on a date.
2. Sim Simma has begun to drink heavily and has a handle of rum in his hands. This is never a good thing.
3. I still haven't eaten dinner and can't find anything.
4. We're less than an hour away from the movie and it's time for me to start drinking.

9:25 P.M. - A few drinks and a frozen pizza and we're out the door with bottles heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixers.

9:35 P.M. - After showing up to the theater, we find out we have to buy tickets inside. This looks too easy to me. Drama pulls his patent "look at me I'm on the phone and I know what I'm doing/ where I'm going" move once we find out which side of the theater the movie's on. He proceeds to walk past everybody without a word from any employee. Jackpot. One by one we all sneak past - nothing like a free movie. (Take that Warhammer! How much did YOU pay for the movie? That's right, dominated.)

9:50 P.M. Drama's drunk ADD kicks in and is all over the place during the rest of the previews. Dude can't sit still and only calms down once the movie is on and he has a legitimate form on entertainment in front of him.

10:25 P.M. - I finish my drink, show it to Sim Simma, but he's not looking so good and still has a long way to go.

10:40 P.M. - Sim Simma looks at me with the saddest face I've ever seen. It's like he ran over my dog with his car and now his mom is making him tell me about it. I'm wondering what in the hell is wrong with him. He proceeds to look down at the floor and his drink and say, "Dude I just can't finish it." Meow Meow Meow.

11:25 P.M. - Sim Simma officially blacks out.

12 A.M. - We get back to our place and Drama takes off. Instead of his customary drunk Quesadilla making, he puts the rest of his drink in the fridge, mumbles something about being too hammered, and wanders into his room without another word.

8 A.M. - The next morning as we're about to leave for work, we discuss the movie a bit. "Dude, I thought the movie was pretty funny," he says, "except I don't really remember much of it."

Ladies and gentlemen, your 2009 Sim Simma!

Now that my friends, was an entertaining Monday.

Bienvenido a Miami!

This past weekend I flew to Miami, Florida to roadtrip back to Atlanta with my girlfriend because her job in the Keys recently ended ... the trip was nothing short of awesome. However, I feel I owe it to my blogging colleagues to describe the pros and cons of such a situation should they ever choose to encounter it:

Pro: An airplane to the beach after a week of working is something to look forward to and the fastest way to Miami.
Con: Its hurricane season and storms are brewing frequently. Most likely you will be sitting in the airport bored out of your mind because of a three hour delay. For most of that time you think to yourself that Gilligan and company got lost forever in that same time period on that ill-fated tour.

Pro: South Beach, Miami is off the fucking chain! It is balls to the wall all night. Giant cups of margaritas, hurricanes, and whatever you can think of drinks are being carried around the street by every scantily clad swim suit wearing drunk beach babe.
Con: You wake up hung over with your shoes, clothes and bed covered in sand. A coconut and some palm tree leaves lay on the floor. Why? Who knows, who cares. You then have to pack the sandy clothes and walk outside in the blinding Miami sun to start your long drive. Who am I kidding ... totally worth it.

Pro: Starting off your roadtrip hearing Willie Nelson sing "On the Road Again" and feeling free enough to conquer the world.
Con: Listening to so many Taylor Swift, Rent and Britney CDs that enough estrogen accumulates in your body making you seriously wonder if you are growing boobs. You then begin to cry when the CD is taken out and "Love Story" is playing on the radio.

Pro: CENSORED
Con: You almost crash and die because you think the trucker in the lane next to you is watching.

Pro: Driving fast in someone else's car is awesome when you are pretending you are the main character from Grand Theft Auto.

Con: Your girlfriend wakes up as you finish your fictional mission of catching that jeep and blowing it up. She then harasses you every time she thinks you are speeding. After nagging you for the quabillionth time she forces you to set the cruise control under 80 mph. You reluctantly comply and your inner child dies a little with each car that steadily passes you.

Pro: Waking up with a beautiful girl on top of you, hotel breakfasts, SUBWAY!!! and road stand fruit.
Con: I am not a morning person. She is. It's way too early to be waking up, but if she is up then you have to be up too. Those eggs look and smell suspicious and all the old people at Holiday Inn stare at you in line. You have to strongly resist the urge to throw the weird eggs at them. (Subway is the shit, no con) The stand mis-spells Georgia Peaches making you wonder A) Where are they really from? B) Who are these people and how do they really make a living on the side of the road?

Pro: Arriving home.
Con: The couple of hours before you arrive home where your low on blood sugar girlfriend does not want to talk to you because you made fun of Taylor Swift too much. The car is silent besides the speakers singing, "I see your face as I drive away ... " There is no winning here.

Overall I feel the pros win and the cons are just me bitching for the hell of making a post. It was a great weekend and I even managed to catch the tail end of Summer Fest in the Highlands. I hope you all had equally wicked weekend wildness.

Lo We Are Not So, We're on a MISSION

Let me preface this by saying, all of you who know me well, know that I am a huge Dispatch fan; have been since I first heard them in 7th or 8th grade. They are my favorite band of all time, ever, and it's not even close. They were so popular in my high school it seemed like we had cover bands of cover bands of Dispatch. Unfortunately, they disbanded right around the beginning of my concert-going phase. The last shows they played together live I was a mere 14 yr old freshman wandering around aimlessly through the halls of my high school, and was more concerned about trying not get lost. My senior year, they had one final show together, free, for everybody to celebrate, even though they had been broken up for over 2 years. They have no idea how many, but it was estimated that over 110,000 people attended that show in Boston. As timing (and my luck) would have it, I moved out of New England that summer and was somewhere in the Mid West, hating my life, when they came on stage for "the last time."

Nearly two summers ago, I checked my old email address to clear up some junk mail, and I came across something that peeked my interest. Why did I get something from Team Dispatch I though? They've been broken up for 3 years now and were all doing independent projects? Low and behold, it turns out that they were having a reunion concert in Madison Square Garden. Awesome, this was my chance. They had already sold out their initial concert, but they agreed to do one on Friday night as well. Bam, six tickets to Dispatch's Friday night concert. 400 level, but the first row so we were almost overlooking them. Over 2 hours of full scale jamming and the most memorable concert ever, I was satisfied. I had finally seen my favorite band in concert. My life was now complete and I could die in peace. Until yesterday...

After almost missing the reunion concert, I vividly remember adding one of my new email addresses to the Dispatch Team mailing list. If anything like this happened again, I was going to be on top of it. Yesterday morning, I get an email from Dispatch that can also be found on their home page. An "intimate acoustic concert" in Washington DC next Friday? Ticket sales start this Friday at 10 AM? Holy shit I think, I gotta get on this. So after a few phone calls everywhere (including the Kennedy Center itself for more information) leads us to this morning. My buddy JD and I remember MSG being sold out in under an hour, and wonder what kind of madhouse will ensue to fill an 1,100 seat area; I have 2 phones set up and my computer ready to go. 9:50 rolls around, time to start calling and hitting refresh. After hearing the response "the instant charge office is closed" about 14 bazillion times, it started ringing. I was so pumped I thought I had it. Until after 2 rings, I got a dead dial tone.... Calling and calling two different numbers and I all I could get was a dead dial. I got on the internet and it went through. Only to tell me that there were 250 people in line in front of me! Awesome. It was dropping to 170, when all of a sudden, it was over 1500. Great, I love glitches, they're totally awesome!

Done, screwed, toasted. Game over. JD texts me, he doesn't sound very positive. Dammit, well it was a nice try. Then JD gives me a call, sounds down, and all of a sudden yells "Dude it worked, I got 6 tickets, row T!!!"

Holy fucking shit. Sim Simma and I are flying to DC next weekend to see a live acoustic set with 1,100 people. DISPATCH!!!!!!!!!

boats and hoes

the PalosaurusRex mailbag

in today's post i will answer reader e-mail. as usual, these are actual e-mails from my readers.

I AM SUPER EXCITED ABOUT MY UPCOMING FOOD EATING COMPETITION! I AM SO GOOD AT EATING TOO! I'VE EATEN AN ENTIRE JAR OF MAYONNAISE IN UNDER A MINUTE, A THANKSGIVING TURKEY DURING A FOOTBALL HALFTIME SHOW, AND FOURTEEN BIGMACS IN A SITTING JUST BECAUSE THE CASHIER LOOKED AT ME FUNNY! I COMPENSATE FOR MY SHORT-COMINGS IN LIFE BY BEING UNNECESSARILY COMPETITIVE AND STUBBORN IN THE MOST TRIVIAL OF CIRCUMSTANCES. I CANNOT WAIT TO PROVE TO EVERYONE HOW GOOD OF AN EATER I ACTUALLY AM! I MEAN, I AM REALLY GOOD! FINALLY PEOPLE WILL TAKE ME SERIOUSLY WHEN THEY SEE ME EAT 10 FISH SANDWICHES.
- ilovefishsticks, atlanta, ga.

PalosaurusRex: i remember when i had my first beer


a few of my friends college friends and i started a blog to keep in touch. one of my buddies just finished his first year of law school. in his first post, he used the words wellspring, bubbling, and nonetheless. he also correctly used both a colon and a semi-colon. what's more, if you read his post it seems so painstakingly written, as if he is conscious of every sentence. i just wanted to talk about boobs and beer, and this pedantic fuck thinks he is james fucking joyce.
- grammerchallenged in georgia

PalosaurusRex: your buddy properly used a semi-colon in a blog and no one called him out on it? does he think he is autioning for the sequel to Finding Forrester? more than likely your wannabe emily dickensen buddy is an intellectual phony, trying too hard to sound smart. next time, if this guy uses the word "wellspring" again in a blog post, put a bar of soap in a sock and starting taking it to this fragile egghead.


i just finished one hell of a year in law school. most of the people that i go to school with take themselves way too seriously and they all have extremely high opinions of themselves. after finals i went back to reno, nv to hang out with my folks and my old highschool buddies. four of my highschool friends share a house and most everyone congregates there to drink no matter the day or time. i cannot tell you how refreshing it was to open the door to their house and find about 15 guys with fortys ducktaped to each hand watching TruTV episodes of embarassing web-videos. i love reno.
-e-rock, reno, nv

PalosaurusRex: wait for it...


i just finished a year in law school and went back home to reno, nv for a little r&r. it was nice to hang out with my highschool friends. have you ever heard of wizard-staffing? after every can of beer you drink you ductape the new beer on top of the old one. after about ten beers or so you have a wizard staff that reaches the ceiling. good luck drinking a new beer at this point if you don't have stairs. back in seattle i asked a lot of people what they had done over the two weeks that we had off. a lot of people apparently worked on their law review application. i am now going to drink fortys and watch TruTv
- p$, seattle, wa

PalosaurusRex: one more...


i just bought my first dave matthews band cd today. i went to pay for the cd and the cashier rolled his eyes at me when he saw what cd i wanted to buy. the funny thing is, i knew exactly how he felt and i kina agreed with him.
- palostine, seattle, wa

PalosaurusRex: yup, these are my readers

Oh Fishsticks!

OH SHIT SON, IT'S ON!!!

Last night the gauntlet was thrown down. J-Roll strolls into the kitchen with a grin and a glint of defiance in his eye when he informed me that his father, a man of respectable size, and his uncle, a man of incredible size, have challenged me and him to an epic eating contest.

The terms are simple. The next time we meet (around July 4th) we will go to a restaurant and order fish fry sandwiches. Whichever team can eat the most wins. Wins what you ask? Pure and simple ... PRIDE. I know, I know ladies! You think this is idiotic, stupid, and juvenile. But let me tell you a little something about any male you will run into ... they ALL have an eating ego (except Palosaurus Rex - he has the figure of Nicole Ritchie).

The eating ego for men must have evolved from the cavemen days when one caveman would grunt to another after finishing a full T-Rex by himself. This grunt would signify that because of his astounding eating abilities (and being able to kill a large creature like a T-Rex) that he was the dominant (cave) man. Cave-women would then flock to this rare specimen of testosterone and he would retreat into his pimped out cave with them full and happy. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way that grunt of authority over all other men has evolved into what we now know as a long belch. It is considered impolite and juvenile in modern society, but all men know that women still swoon secretly to this belly battlecry.

Basically, J-Roll and I are going to straight up dominate them in this challenge. It's going to be a bloodbath. J-Roll is training for a marathon meaning his metabolism is through the roof and his eating habits are slowly resembling locusts swarms going through our cabinets, while I have a history of eating large quantities of food when put up to a challenge. In my resume of historic eats I have gorged myself with a full chocolate birthday cake (and gotten $40 because my dieting co-workers didn't think I could do it), ~3 pounds of apple pie (it was 5 pounds but I split it with a friend to win a bet), and after a particularly long night of drinking 50 chicken McNuggets (another bet with the same friend - what a sucker). I am confident in the win and already look forward to gloating and holding this over J-Roll's dad and uncle forever ... then I will retreat into my cave full and happy.