Grandma's Boys

Everyone is Gay but Me!

2011-02-03T08:43:00.004-05:00

Palosaurus Rex is Gay!
Drama is Gay!
Sim Simma is gay, and there are several mid 2000's mix CD's that can back that up.
Ffej is gay!
J-Roll is Gay!

I am not. When aliens land on this planet in a million years to discover the ruins of our once glorious civilization they will read this, the final post on the greatest blog of all time. Having nothing to contradict the above words, they will accept them as the ultimate undeniable truth ascertained by a species that acheived true enlightenment only in the very moment of their demise.

Everyone is gay but me!

Fear and Loathing in SA Part 2: The Motorcycle Diaries

2009-11-13T11:11:00.003-05:00

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

2009-10-05T16:39:00.002-04:00

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?

2009-09-13T21:23:00.002-04:00

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"

2009-08-27T13:37:00.011-04:00

"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?

2009-08-26T08:47:00.014-04:00

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

2009-08-24T01:33:00.007-04:00

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!

2009-08-20T14:35:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-31T15:08:00.016-04:00

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!

2009-07-28T02:32:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-25T13:24:00.004-04:00

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

2009-07-23T15:11:00.007-04:00

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

2009-07-23T12:52:00.004-04:00

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…

2009-07-21T10:54:00.006-04:00

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

2009-07-17T14:50:00.014-04:00

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

2009-07-17T13:04:00.004-04:00

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!

2009-07-15T14:39:00.006-04:00

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:

2009-07-13T11:43:00.016-04:00

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

2009-07-10T09:00:00.010-04:00

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

2009-07-09T11:36:00.004-04:00

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)

2009-07-01T22:46:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-26T11:38:00.011-04:00

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:

2009-06-25T15:41:00.002-04:00

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:

2009-06-23T09:26:00.007-04:00

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

2009-06-21T01:14:00.003-04:00

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

2009-06-20T17:44:00.004-04:00

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

2009-06-19T14:32:00.004-04:00

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:

2009-06-17T18:42:00.010-04:00

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!

2009-06-16T09:15:00.013-04:00

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:

Backsliding Forward (Ep. 666)

2009-06-11T22:51:00.004-04:00

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

2009-06-11T18:47:00.008-04:00

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

2009-06-11T15:19:00.015-04:00

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!

2009-06-08T14:58:00.024-04:00

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

2009-06-05T13:44:00.013-04:00

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

2009-06-04T12:30:00.005-04:00

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!

2009-06-02T11:20:00.012-04:00

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.

Simply Spellbinding

2009-05-29T09:22:00.010-04:00

Mr. Madison: You remember that spelling bee you won in the 1st grade?

Billy: Oh no, you didn't!

Mr. Madison: Rock? "r-o-k"?

Billy: Yea, so what's your point?

Mr. Madison: r-o-C-k!

Billy: Ohh! The "C" is silent.

Last night in the national spelling bee Kavya Shivshankar was able to spell (Drama take note here) V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! I only caught the final round of the Spelling Bee, but once I laid down on the couch and J-Roll had switched from LeBron to Kavya during a commercial break, I knew that we weren't switching back. LeBron may be "The King," but he had nothing on Kavya last night. She sure as hell was the spelling "Princess" of my dreams. This girl could spell words like Laodicean and Gyascutus (as one newspaper stated: only slightly harder words to spell than her last name). I have no idea what these words mean nor do I believe they are truly English. Honestly have you ever gone down the street and said to a passerby, "Hello goodfellow! Have you read 'The Stranger?' That man is a laodicean, but I figure he is more real to our society than a gyascutus on capital hill! Har Har Har"? Hell no. You'd get put in the insane asylum or deported for saying shit like that. On top of that this goddess of gab spelling knew the root word (latin or not) and was able to do this magical thing with her hands. Every word she wrote out at least 4 times in her hands making it look like she was either Vince Vaughn in Wedding Crashers asking for more crabcakes and a shit or she was casting a spell (man, I'm clever) on the audience (mainly me ... man, that wickedly wild wordsmithy wench has got my number).

Besides Kavya, I feel like I should mention a little about the rest of the Bee. As each contestant got up they were allowed to ask a variety of questions about the word they were given to spell. These questions, if not phrased properly, were denied by the judges. They really reminded me of that dead guy in I, Robot when he would constantly reply, "My responses are limited. You must ask the right question." These judges were not dead though, but they sure acted like it with their monotone better than thou attitudes. The thing is I would totally act like that if I had all the answers in front of me on a computer screen. And don't even get me started on the fact that when any contestant got a question wrong ... the bell lady would come in. The bell lady, a lady who gets paid (I repeat GETS PAID!!!) to ring a bell at the Spelling Bee. She would pause for just the right amount of time to create that anxiety in the air. Maybe give the little guy a little hope ... then DING! So sorry ... how unfortunate. She would hit that thing like she was God closing the book of life on someone. There must be hundreds of these bell ladies across the U.S. at every state spelling bee ... how I envy their jobs.

Also I should mention that the Bee was sponsored by Scripps, which was going to give out more than my annual salary to the winner along with a trophy. I did NOT need to know this. I work all year long and every year some 8th grade 12 year old kid who hasn't even hit puberty yet makes more than I do AND gets a huge engraved trophy!!!! WTF!!! I am so pissed at my parents for not home schooling me and beating me when I misspelled words (you know that Asian kid who got fourth place was going to get it when he got home). And while I'm at it screw you Microsoft Word for making me so goddamn lazy! From now on I am going to ignore your red underlines just out of spyte (You see what I did there? Yeah! Take that society).

Teacher: Spell "couch".

Little girl: Couch. C-O-W...

Billy: No!!!! Ha, ha.

Teacher: [to little girl] No, I'm sorry, that's not right. [to Billy]

Teacher: Well, Billy, if you spell this correctly you pass second grade.

Billy: Couch. C-O-R, uh, ARE you going to the mall later today?

Teacher: No I'm not goin to the mall, keep spelling, mister!

Billy: C-O-U-C-H!

Teacher: Correct!

Billy: I AM THE SMARTEST MAN ALIVE!

The Train Track Story - Origins of Drama (Ep. 101)

2009-05-28T23:00:00.012-04:00

Every Superhero has that defining moment whence they must finally choose to embrace and accept their special powers. Like any good film franchise, there will be a prequel to this story that shows the beginnings and rejection of my capabilities and the responsibilities required. But as you read the summer blockbuster below, I became Drama on that fateful April night.

The problem with public transportation, the fact that causes all of my various train track stories to exist is the interrupted service between night and morning. Struggling to make that last train home and the failure that sometimes ensues is the only impetus needed to turn me into Drama.

Heading home from a night of drinking in Hoboken, my friends and I realized that we had timed the trains wrong, and we were stuck between transfers. After tussling with my friend Wick over something unnecessary, I simply said, "F--- it," and started walking... on the train track.

He seemed perplexed as I jumped onto the train tracks and headed to the outside, Newark, and beyond. The walk was about 50 miles and I intended of doing every mile. It wasn't unique that year for me to run or walk 5-6 miles home from a party or bar, and it wasn't the first time I had been on train tracks that year. It hadn't registered that this time it wasn't different, because even though our train had never came these were still active tracks.

I was still fuming that first mile, when I got several phone calls from Wick, and immediately hung up on him everytime. He keeps trying, but I am angry at him. Finally I pick up, he says, "An officer wants to talk to you." He then hands the phone to a cop, "This if Officer So-and-So. We're aware that you're on the track. We've had to shut down the trains and sent out cops to find you. Where are you right now?" Although I hadn't been thinking clearly, I thank God, I had the right response, "I'm not on the tracks right now. I got off them and got a cab ride." The cop then asked where I was now. Thinking of the most dangerous place, and a place I was not, I responded, "East Orange." With that I hung up. Then I ran like hell off the tracks, scared that the police were after me.

After exiting the tracks, I came upon several obstacles trying to get to the interstate and away from the chasing police. The famous Jersey swamps on the sides of the highways became my first hurdle. In the fierceness of the moment, I waded up to my chest in the cold, dank water, only to later realize my cell phone and wallet were tucked securely in my pants pocket. On such a miserable night, my phone was now inoperable.

While I was fleeing the cops, my buddy back at the station was getting arrested for disorderly conduct. Unaware of this I kept plodding on. My pants were caked in mud and I started to shiver in the chilly northeast spring night. Despite the mistake, I was happy that I was one step closer to the headlights in the distance. Like a bad videogame or Harold and Kumar movie, I now came upon a forest of bamboo. Bamboo is tough. And you don't realize this until you try to make your way through them. After getting nowhere trying to push through them, I take a few steps back and run into it. It's a little painful, but I got past a few of the plants. Now I'm stuck in the forest. So I'd take half a step back and barrel through a few more plants. It took probably about ten minutes, but after dozens of burts, I made it through the forests. Again, I felt good at the progress.

I felt good at the progress, until I see the barbed wire fence strewn ahead of me. Although I'm scared of the cops, I think I'm more afraid of hopping the barbed wire fence. But I know I have to go over the fence, not because of the cops, but because I can't go back through the bamboo and swamp.

After climbing to the top of the fence, I decide to just get over the barb wire in one swoop. I was determined. I launched my body with one big jump, much like a high jumper avoiding the bar. Mysteriously, I only drew blood in four places and tore my shirt and pants.

I was now soaked, caked in mud, bloody, with torn clothes and freezing cold, hating life. I looked like a war victim, but now I was within walking distance of the road. I walked toward the light, until I reached the shoulder of the highway. A few cabs passed, but no one would stop to pick me up. I cursed and cursed, knowing they would never stop with the way I looked. I kept walking via the billboard light, until I got to an exit; it was the center of Newark.

Some people might be scared walking in the middle of the night in a bad city. I saw a few seedy characters, but knew I was safe. The humorous part was that I probably looked sketchier than anyone else in Newark that night. I felt awful, but would be relieved to duck the police for the night and finally get a hotel room.

Upon awaking, I couldn't call my friends to see if they were okay, since my phone was still broke. I had to put on my muddy, swamp smelling clothes back on. They smelled awful. I walked to the NJ Transit station and took home the train I should have been on 8 hours prior.

A few hours later, I pull into the train station, get in my car and go home. My instant messenger is littered with many messages, some inquiring if I'm alive and others with anger. My voicemail is similar, except I can't respond. I go to sleep knowing I'm Drama. It's who I am. But this time when I wake up, I know that it's all a part of the journey and will make for one hell of a story years from then.

"Oooh Baby I Love Your Way" IS THIS PETER FUCKING FRAMPTON?

2009-05-28T13:43:00.007-04:00

I was originally skeptical about this blog because the past five months of my life have been a demanding routine. Law school does not provide a wellspring of newsworthy/blogworthy material. With summer's arrival, a bubbling creativity gives way to my first blog post: notes on a bike trip to southern utah.

My high school buddy, who a few of you are already acquainted with, and I drove from Reno, NV to Moab, UT to ride our mountain bikes and camp for a few days. A lot of the pictures are on facebook and the details of our trip are inconsequential. Instead, I will offer a few memorable vingettes from the trip.

I go to school in Seattle, WA. The amount of rain that the city gets is overstated; nonetheless, we do get a decent amount of rain. In my trip to a goddamn desert, our campsite got flooded out the first night and we had thunderstorms the next two nights. The irony is more than I can handle.

During these rainstorms, Funk and I would sit in the car drinking beer, waiting for the storms to pass. We had been trading Grandma's Boys quotes back and forth while drinking beer in the truck and Funk recalled a funny story.He and his roommates had a house party at their place at some point during the spring semester. Two days later, Funk opens to oven to cook a pizza. He opens the oven and finds a slice of pizza, a bowl of coleslaw, a kraft single of american cheese, and four muffins all burnt and sitting on a tray in the oven. He now knows not to let in too many of Dante's friends from the crazy beaver.

Funk told me about one guy he knows from Las Vegas who flys the majority of his flights on standby. This kid tries to convince everyone that it is the best way to fly, as the flights are significantly cheaper. I told Funk that my buddy Sim Simma has a girlfriend who lives in another state and that he occasionally flies standby to go see her. Funk asked me the name of Sim Simma's girlfriend. I couldn't remember off the top of my head so Funk just called her standby. when I finally did remember Jen's name, Funk didn't care. He had already made up his mind that her name is standby.

To get back to Reno from Moab, we drove through Salt Lake City. On interstate 80 in Salt Lake City I saw the most tasteless billboard that I have ever seen. The billboard has a picture of an 8 year old girl hugging her somewhat chunky mom. In the picture both the girl and the mom are all smiles. The top of the billboard read, "I Got My Mommy Back." Who paid for this advertisement? Utah's surgical weightloss center.

Notes on Japan: A Rambo Mini-series

2009-05-27T09:25:00.005-04:00

As you all may or may not know I have recently returned from a nine day visit to the land of the rising sun. Some of you have expressed interest in hearing about it while others among you would prefer that I die slowly and painfully. All in good time friends. Since I mostly write on this blog (or plan to as this is my first post) at work when I should be working, I don't have time to write one long post about my journey. I have decided to just write one little jaunt about it each time I decide to post, probably about every two days, unless I'm really busy or horribly bored. In any event, this should work out well for all parties involved: I don't have time to write long posts and those of you that can read don't have the attention span to read them. I'll try to post some pictures for the illiterate members of the group (ffeJ). Think of these Japan posts as like a heterosexual version of Sim Simma's grind my gears sections.

Post # 1: Japan's obsession with not getting sick:

I always thought you guys were germaphobes because you thought it was gross when I ate that 3 day old DUC pizza slice that I left under the couch of Turman South. But the Japanese are PARANOID of germs and disease. As soon as my plane touched down at the Tokyo Narita airport, the captain informed us that we would have to remain on board the plane for an additional 1-2 hours while we waited for a biohazard crew to come scan everyone with an infrared camera to check for the now infamous swine flu (called "pig virus" by the Japanese). While in quarantine we had one of two options: filling out a health form survey or watching the thrilling conclusion of "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button." Between the prospect of catching a disease almost as deadly as SARS and being in a foreign country, I was in no shape to handle Benjamin Button so I opted for the former. The questionnaire was the Japanese language version because the English language one was out of stock; and therefore I needed a Japanese flight attendant to help me fill out the form. Not to bore you with every detail, but I did find this funny; one of the questions was: "Have you visited or had contact with someone who visited Canada, the US, or Mexico in the past 10 days?" The flight had come out of LA. I answered "No." After 45 minutes of waiting, we were visited by a crew that looked like extras from "28 days later." They filmed everyone with a camera and then we were allowed to leave.

During my stay in Japan I saw a lot of people wearing gauze surgical masks. Apparently a thin cotton mask is thought to be an effective barrier to germs; people who are sick wear them to prevent themselves from infecting others, and people who are healthy wear them as disease armor. You might ask yourself "why don't they just brush their teeth?" I don't know, but I think it has something to do with why they don't go to the orthodontist either. I also noticed a lot of people sniffing loudly and frequently, the kind of sniffing you would expect from a novice cocaine user who's just taken some real good shit. My friend told me later that, contrary to my hopes, there was not a big coke scene in Tokyo, but rather people were sniffing because they couldn't blow their noses. Apparently blowing ones nose in public is thought to spread germs. It is extremely offensive and is equivalent to eating Taco Bell and then shitting in public. I just wish I'd known sooner, maybe I would not have shot that snot-rocket… maybe. Gotta get back to work. More later. I hate you all.

Angle? Who needs an angle?

2009-05-26T16:04:00.012-04:00

After discussing our exploration into blogging with Drama, he imparted us with his wisdom about the world of blogging. Apparently, he has been typing away behind our backs for the past two years we have known him and has this vast array of knowledge on the subject. Well, either that or he's just full of s*@!. I'll leave that up to you to decide.
Regardless, he was adamant that for our blog to be successful, we have to have an "angle." And while I do agree with him to some degree - it can't just be completely scattered with no connection from one post to another (cough* Sim Simma* cough), I think he was somewhat overestimating the objective with this blog. Let me reiterate what I said in an earlier post...this is meant to be fun, we're not trying to do this for a living and make money off it. Besides the posters and a few close friends, I really don't care if anybody reads this thing.
I think the "angle" that is going to rise up within this blog is simply going to be our personalities. Therefore, from here on out, I'm most likely going to solely focus on sports, women, and drinking because that's about all I do/ think about besides work; and I'm sure as hell not going to bore you talking about work.

This past weekend was Memorial Day weekend and it was a blast. I got to golf twice, boat with my pops in NY, and drink heavily when I got back Monday. Can't ask for a much better 3 day weekend. We decided to get people over to our house for a cookout and drinking fest. Some of our friends are still in college and so they have nothing to do right now. That causes a problem for us old folks because we very easily succumb to peer pressure and drink heavily with them and stay up way too late. I had to get up at 4 am for my flight yesterday and so I was already exhausted before we started drinking. After yesterday, I'm not only exhausted, but hung over as well, doing as little as humanly possible at work besides constantly checking the time. I need to also mention that Drama and I went about 20-0 in Cornhole yesterday, including a couple of skunks. We officially welcome all challengers. And Sim Simma, we will skunk you, it's going to happen sooner or later whether you like it or not.

How My Birthday Beat the Swine Flu

2009-05-21T13:33:00.012-04:00

So despite the picture I made it to work today (barely). I am pretty sure if a cop had pulled me over this morning I would have gotten a DUI. Thankfully I avoided all the flashing lights and made it all the way to work, but lets be honest I am not doing anything today. In fact, I am seriously contemplating sleeping under my desk like George Costanza. But I digress ... How did I defeat the Swine flu? Well, the story starts a few weeks ago when Warhammer went to Texas for a job interview. He came back with a sore throat. Texas is totally chummy buddy buddy always there with a reacharound for Mexico. From this general geographical knowledge we knew that Warhammer had fallen ill with the dreaded swine flu. A short while later my throat began to get sore. I drank copious amounts of orange juice, but to no avail. Shit! The swine flu had spread to me. Now knowing that my general demise was near I decided to hell with the swine flu! I am going to celebrate my last birthday on Earth by going out with a bang (kicking up dust, tonight honey I’m all shook up).

So after a night of mayhem involving rum and coke, opening my birthday bottle of port, sweet tea vodka (because we are in the south), jumping the botanical garden’s fence, regular vodka, motor boating nude statues, long island ice tea, eating my weight in free cream cheese salmon pizza, vodka red bull, an attempted theft of a handle of Jose Cuervo, Jack and Coke, a Neighbor’s pretzel, Irish car bombs, and climbing/ slip n’ sliding over the tops of cars in the rain at 1:00 AM, I no longer had a sore throat!!! Eureka! The cure to Swine Flu!!!! The only side effect is that now I have a throbbing headache. But, the scientific discovery alone was well worth it. I have found the cure to the swine flu; just have one hell of a birthday night. I will be informing the CDC and WHO today.

Thanks everyone for the free drinks and coming out to celebrate in the shitty weather!

UUoUU! UUatch Out - Thanks for the Heads Up Drama ...

2009-05-20T11:26:00.018-04:00

Sunny day, sweeping the clouds away! On my way to where the air is sweet. Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street!! Why hello there boys and girls! Today's special number and letter of the day are the number "9" and the letter "U"!!!!! Lets see an example ...

A text message* from Drama this morning.

From: Drama

Haha u are not going to believe uuho I sauu out last nite - genevieve and
lauren, the girl in tears the other nite. She was complaining about Rob. Too
funnie.

*Drama's phone doesn't have a 9 key (I hope he posts soon to explain this along with his Birthday Debacles). As a result of not having this key in his phone he can not use the letters W, X, Y, or Z. He has to write two "U's" instead of a "W" (double u) and can not dial or store most people's numbers. He thinks the "UU = W" is extremely clever. Although humorous it is very confusing at times. I personally think he should get his phone fixed because lets be honest spelling "funnie" makes you look like a pre-pubescent girl that just got her brand spanking new sparkly pink Hello Kitty cell phone. Now imagine our pre-pubescent Hello Kitty teeny bopper. She giggles and immediately texts her BFF (Best Friend Forever (Ever, ever? Yes. Ever, ever)), "Tee Hee! I just got a new fone! LMAO I M 2 Funnie!!" Can you picture this? Do you see what I mean now? Please get a new "fone" Drama ... pleeeasssseee.

But the more pressing issue here is (me of course!) that I really don't want to get cried on again at my local bars. Hand & Hand, Neighbors, Dark Horse, Limerick Junction ... these watering holes are holy places for me! They are not to be de-sanctified with wet tears - only wet beers (and girls). Zing! With that cue the semi-relevant music.

Breaking the Seal

2009-05-19T15:10:00.005-04:00

So after living with Sim Simma for a few years now and this being the first year I've lived with J Roll I thought I'd reflect on some of the new developments. I'd like to point out that of the group of 6 from HSquared, we are probably the most normal, which is a bit frightening. E Rock can join our group while BJ and Rambo are the outliers.

The most obvious change is that we actually get more than basic cable and even have an HD DVR, who would of thought Sim Simma would ever have such luxury! This has resulted in Sim Simma and I watching more sports in the last 9 months than I believe we watched both years in HSquared. We followed the pats (J Roll), the skins (Sim Simma), the eagles (Drama), and the bears (Me, ffe...err *sigh* Warhammer) this past season. We were up to date with college football and basketball, the NBA, and I've even watched some NHL and champions league this season. Now I know what you're thinking, that's a long ass time sitting on the couch watching the TV, but between Taco Mac and our DVR it hasn't felt too long.

The next most notable development in relation would be our lack of playing Super Smash Brothers. We no longer have 4 players and the graphics look rather shitty on our HDTV. Instead, we now have both an xbox from our Samoan friend and a wii from my girl. Guitar hero and bowling have become a staple when we are bored or pregaming to walk to the highlands, while we also have halo if the desire to kill each other arises. The N64 still sits near our TV, but we almost never have it plugged in since there are only 3 inputs. Don't think we won't take a challenge though, any of us would be willing to dominate anyone stupid enough to play against us.

Because I think I could go on for another 5 or 6 paragraphs and I don't want to droll on for too long, I will keep this last one fairly brief. House parties. We have less than one a month instead of twice a week. The beer pong table is now storage in my room. The hot tub hasn't been on since February. The backyard is huge but we have yet to host an outdoor summer party that has more than 10 people outside. This place is ideal for house parties, but we despise cleaning up afterwords and have been satisfied with just having a small group every now and again pregame and walk to the highlands or sometimes carpool to buckhead. I think this list sums up why we have slowed down the rate of parties:
1) our neighbor is a cuntmuscle with his house too close to our hot tub and calling the cops on us multiple times for whispering outside
2) we just feel like other people need to host parties because we have dropped too much money on beer/cups/food/deposits/broken stuff over the years
3) Sim Simma and J Roll have real jobs
4) Drama could lose his job if he came to one of our "Real" house parties
5) You're all lame

Alright, I need to stop procrastinating and get back to the series 63 material.
--War

Lisa, your aorta is in your chest ...

2009-05-18T12:13:00.011-04:00

One word to describe this past weekend: Really?!?!

I was soaking wet Saturday night and it was not because I decided to walk to a house party two blocks away in a torrential downpour of rain. No, it was because a drunken girl cried on me.

How might this have happened you ask? A house party where the music is thumping, the beer is flowing, everyone is having a great time … how could you, Sim Simma, a good hearted fun loving guy get cried on? Well, as J Roll so eloquently put it, “You attract some crazy girls, dude.” It is a curse. I don’t know what it is about me (maybe a giant blinking light that only estrogen induced hallucinating psychos can see?) but it is there.

I was literally just sitting at a table with Drama and J-Roll playing a dice drinking game when a brunette and a blonde come over with a chair asking if they can play. Drama begins hitting on the brunette and things are looking up for him (Oh yeah! Double-entendre! Man, I’m clever). The blonde sits next to me and a conversation begins. She wants to stop Drama and her brunette buddy from talking any longer probably because in her blood shot squinted eyes she is not getting the attention her low cut dress and push up bra deserve. I de-rail her thought process here by proposing a bet that they will be fine – they will have a good time together – they will inevitably hook up. She bets against this stating that she won’t let it happen. I say the rules of said bet are that she can not interfere – I mean that just gives her an unfair advantage (Go get ‘em Drama!). She eventually agrees and now my buddy should have no more cock block (Hooray for people and their need to feed their egos through gambling). After this is done I talk to the blonde about God knows what trying to include J-Roll in the conversation. Then out of nowhere Drama and J-Roll decide to leave the party to meet up with some other friends. I decide to stay because I know a lot of people there and want to catch up with a few friends. I tell them I’ll catch up with them soon. Literally right after they get up this girl puts her leg over mine and continues to try and talk to me. DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! I retrieve my leg and nicely tell her I have a wonderful amazing girlfriend (which I do) and that I am sorry if I led her on. I am about to get up and talk to my friends at the party when I suddenly see her face contort. I think to myself, “WTF? Did she drink some skunked beer? Oh god, no. No, no, no, no, no!” But it is too late. The waterworks are on; it’s the ninth green at 9:00 PM. Eye makeup is streaming down her face making her look ready to go to either an Alice Cooper concert or a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She begins telling me that all guys are crap, life sucks, and the world is going to end. I then have to (because my conscience is unfortunately good) restore her faith in humanity and men by talking to her and calming her down for the next 10-20 minutes. I'd like to point out that I did not know this girl and had really only been talking to her in a group setting for 5 minutes tops. That and her friend was of no help at all. So in short Drama bailed on a girl he could have hooked up with at a house party and I (although I should have never tried to help him in the first place) got stuck with black eyeliner tears on my shoulder. Cue the music and thank god its my birthday this week.

And with that, a new chapter begins...

2009-05-15T13:06:00.016-04:00

I’ve never written any type of blog before so I’ve been antagonizing over the past few days, trying to figure out what to write, knowing you only get one chance at your first blog post. As you will see in the upcoming months, each of us has our own unique writing style, topics to discuss, and points of view. Sim Simma will undoubtedly continue his random ramblings that were so evident in his original post. I’m positive Warhammer will type like he does when playing WarCraft (although even I’m not sure what that entails so I guess we’re all in for a surprise), Drama’s posts will turn into Garden State: the blog, E-Rock will without question bring his new found knowledge of the law onto this site even if we don’t want to hear about it, and your guess is as good as mine when it comes to Rambo.

What about me, you ask? Well, you will quickly learn that my New England upbringing has greatly influenced all aspects of my life – from my overall stubbornness and how I talk, to my general dislike of people outside the Northeast. I’d rather carry a conversation with someone from Long Island (and we all know how aggravating that can be) then have to look at, and struggle with, the annoying accent/ appearance that comes with being a Southern fruitcake.

With all that being said, I truly believe that the diversity among this group is going to be what makes the blog so enjoyable. Being from different backgrounds prevents many of us from seeing eye to eye on a lot of subjects. We’re hoping that the banter and arguments that result from this will create a pleasurable blog for all to read. I’m sure there will be many inside jokes, rehashing of old memories, and “that’s what she said” posts, but bear with us. And, to be truly honest, if you don’t like the blog and never come back, we won’t really care because we’re doing this out of enjoyment and to stay connected with our close friends as we spread throughout the globe.

Think of us as an independent band, following through for the love of the music, and not caring whether we truly become mainstream or not. We are the Dispatch of blogs. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the moment because I know we will.

The Creation

2009-05-13T20:39:00.013-04:00

Mmm ... the first post is mine. I feel all nervous and tingly (Cue the Madonna "Like a Virgin" music). My palms are clammy and my hands are shaking. But like anyone's first cherry popping moment you give the finger to your doubt and nerves (and while you're at it chlamydia too) and say the hell with it here I go:

1) My birthday is coming up (cough cough May 21st cough cough). And I have been really thinking about skydiving to celebrate. You only live once. In fact last night I had a dream about skydiving with elephants. Not sure if it was Dumbo though. Hopefully the sequel is tonight.

2) I know its way too early (especially with all the summer and winter movies coming), but I am totally going to be Wolverine for Halloween. I can't get the image of me with bushy sideburns and claws out of my head. Plus it wouldn't be too much of a stretch from my regular self as I don't really trim my nails or cut my hair anyway. All I need is some adamantium.

3) Mall Cop was one of the worst movies I have ever seen. I am a huge fan of Happy Madison Productions, but honestly did Adam Sandler even think this one through or did he just buy a segway and think hey this could be made into a movie somehow?! Screw scripts or legit plot points. I can see him now yelling, "I've got it!!! Segway + Mall Cop = Hilarity!!!" Well you said it to Bob Barker yourself, "The price is wrong, bitch!" It wasn't funny at all. I want my money back. Oh wait, thank god I watched this illegally downloaded on a computer. If I wasn't still slightly hung over I would want my wasted hour and half of life back, but we all know I was going to just lay there anyway.

4) Yesterday during the Celtics game my roommate got off the couch and I immediately took his seat from him because he didn't yell "Fives." A common game where if you leave a seat you have to call it for "five" minutes or that seat will then be up for grabs to whoever can claw, maim and kill their way to the top of the couch food chain. Anyways, I eventually got up and went into my room to go to sleep while he was still out in the family room thus giving him ownership over the couch once again. Then while in bed I heard him get off the couch again. I was about to dash back out and go to sleep on it just to spite him (as any good roommate would do) until I heard him sarcastically yell "Fives!" The split second before I was asleep I thought to myself F#@& how did he know?!?

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