Turbo Blog

Bad Dance Moves

2008-10-26T15:55:00.000-07:00

Saturday night had all of the ingredients of a memorable evening.

I attended Rangers v. Penguins, one of the most exciting and spirited hockey games I'd ever attended. After allowing themselves to fall to a two goal deficit, the Rangers rallied back on the strength of some stunning netminding by Henrik Lundqvist and an absolute rocket from the right circle by Nik Zherdev (full disclosure: Zherdev is on my fantasy team) with just over 8 seconds remaining to tie up the match. The game would end up going to a shootout where Lundqvist shut the door on three consecutive Penguins and Sjostrom slid one by Fleury to net the Rangers 2 points in the standings. Shortly after the game, we were asked to leave the suite by MSG staff, but not before he used the phrase 'She was a wreck up from the neck up' in reference to describe someone who he just ejected from a neighboring suite.

This night was awesome.

After the game we headed to a bar in MSG called Play by Play on the second floor of the Garden, which features all sorts of distractions. I used up someone's spare dollar that they had left in Big Buck Hunter Pro, with a Buffalo trek through Africa, and played Bill in an unspirited Jets v. Jets game of the original NFL Blitz. But, the real selling point of Play by Play is a regulation height basketball hoop with an extremely forgiving rim. When we got there, there were a couple of little kids who were hogging the court. Needless to say, we circled the area like vultures until the kids headed out. Bill suggested we gamble on a free throw shooting contest, him and Shari vs. Rich and me. We all quickly agreed to this. After a fairly embarassing drubbing in the first match up, me and Rich won the double or nothing rematch, and the owners of the bar eventually asked us to leave as we were the only patrons.

It was now about 11 and we headed to Peter Dillon's to play a couple of games of pool before calling the night quits. We quickly got on the table and played a couple racks. At some point during the game, I was moved to dance after draining a tricky bank shot. Being inspired by some Killers beats, I attempted to pivot, except something went horribly wrong. An acute pain flashed through my knee causing it to buckle and I quickly succumbed to the pull of gravity. After a smattering of well deserved chuckles, it began to dawn on me that there was something legitimately wrong with my joint. After some brief moral support and a half hour or so of me whining about how spectacularly dumb dancing is, I hobbled off to a yellow cab and headed back to Vai's apartment where we spent the next hour or so googling what could be wrong with the my knee. It turns out it is one of roughly a million things.

I woke up Sunday with a right leg that felt like it weighed roughly 150 pounds and had the flexibility of an old, dry stick. My knees are almost comically large to begin with, and now the right one looks like it has been fully inflated. Now, I am usually fairly inactive on Sundays, with the standard list of activities that include getting out of bed, walking to the couch, and watching football (it turns out that this particular Sunday I had plans that I unfortunately needed to cancel). However, today, even my standard Sunday activities were outside of my realm of capabilities. Vai helped me out of bed, wheeled me in a swiveling chair to the sofa, and helped me get in. She gave me a sack of frozen peas to apply to my knee and some anti inflammatories. She is referring to me more frequently as her 'invalid' as opposed to her 'boyfriend'. I am currently a fixture in her living room.

It is about 830p and the knee is still unable to support any sort of weight, much less walk. I am heading back to Long Island to see the Doctor, shoot some x-rays through the ol' knob and see if he can let me know what's not working correctly and when I will get back to my natural gait. This sucks. On the bright side, I now find myself with more than enough time to post on this blog again.

As an aside, Vai's fortune cookie contained the phrase, 'Happy events will occur shortly in your home'. I can only hope (it's about my knee).

Off the Top of my Head, Drunk . . .

2007-07-05T18:34:00.000-07:00

The title of this blog is Vai's response to my request for a translation of 'New Adventures'. She is strong enough to hold any conversation in Lithuanian, but sometimes struggles for words that have synonyms that could, in conversation, be used instead.

It is nearly 5am here. And the sun is rising. And I have had a couple too many Svyturys.

Can someone please e-mail me? As much as has happened here, a lot has happened at work as well. Is my assistant the best, the worst, or somewhere in between? I'm hoping for the best or in between.

This vacation would necesitate a journal and a strict devotion to it to accurately describe my experiences. Simply too much has gone on. Even though I've spent nearly the entirety of the daylight hours in bed today with an illness.

Yesterday, apart from other minor things, was spent at a July 4th Lithuanian American festival at the American Chamber of Commerce where InCulto performed, as well as the head man's wife from Skamp. There performance was absolutely of studio quality. I honestly believe that his look and his act could make it100% in the States. The performance itself was sharp, and as an added bonus, they had a Bull Mastif puppy that was as friendly as can be.

Celebrity is a very odd thing here. As a politician, Vaiva's mother is in full page spreads in things such as 'People' magazine here. They don't have anything congruent to Hollywood. These musical performers are 'celebrities' in Lithuania, but completely approachable and gregarious. I had conversations with both of them as they sat with their dog. They had been signing autographs previously. Simply amazing.

Today I experienced fatigue most likely brought upon by the cold and the rain in Preila a couple of days ago. I slept until 2p, and as I was about to travel, the skies opened up and it started raining heavily. Vaiva went off to practice a dance for the wedding at 330, and I was stuck in the apartment building.

I flipped on the TV and it was among the most surreal experiences that I have had since being here. They don't use sub-titles here, but a dubbing system that is entirely awful. There is one translator (for both men and women) that is purely monotonous. It rendered any programming for me, and anyone, entirely unwatchable.

When Vai returned from her dance practice, that went extremely well despite the fact that several participants had never danced before (the groom to be is a native Bostonian), me, her, and her mother went out to dinner at a place whose name I will not attempt to spell. However, there was a live, three man band composed of a violinist, an accordian player, and some sort of wind instrument reminicent of a recorder that played lively music as we ate and drank. We ordered 'the pitchfork', which was literally a pitchfork's head with huge portions of meat and tiny portions of fruits and vegetables attached to the 3 prongs (although this is supposed to feed 4-6 hungry people, I don't doubt that Robins could have cleared all three skewers and been looking for more). The experience was surreal, completely fulfilling, and entirely decadent. I left with a full belly, several liters of beer in my stomach, and a ridiculous amount of all brands of livestock digesting deep inside me. This is not a country for those who turn their noses at eating previously living creatures.

At night we went to Pubas (translation, Pub) where we drank heartily and listened (and danced poorly) to songs that were never exactly popular in America but played at loud volumes there. I'm not kidding when I say that the song 'What Is Love' was not met with Will Ferrell head bopping, but attractive Lithuanian girls shaking their assets on the undersized dance floor. I unenergetically tapped my feet and was ridiculed. By the time I had a sufficient amount of beer in me to shake my moneymaker, the music had stopped and we decided to head home for the evening as opposed to going to a club that would be open until 6a.

The sun is bright in the sky now, and I must rest my weary head. I hope the 4th found everyone in good spirits and, although I am having a ridiculous blast here, I also long for the company of people who will address me in English before they realize that I am foreign and strange. I hope this finds all of you in good spirits and I will see you shortly.

Further Adventures

2007-07-03T17:27:00.000-07:00

*Full Disclaimer - I'm past my DetFest limit*

It is 4am while I start transcibing this, and I apologize for any spelling mistakes in advance (I've reviewed that sentence twice for quality control, and I am sipping a strong Lithuanian Beer (Stipriausas) as I type this).

So, the Baltic Sea. I didn't see much of it (pun intended). I arrived at Nida, this link probably doesn't work, but it is basically a spaghetti strap that hangs off of the west coast of the country. While waiting for some guests, we missed the prime time to be on the Baltic Sea which has breath-taking views and crystal blue waters that you would expect in the Caribbean (so I hear). Due to traffic, miscues, and other general time wasters, I arrived at 8p, culminating a trip that spanned across the entire countryeer.. I settled into my hotel room and cracked a beer.

After a short ferry ride, and a half hour bus ride, I arrived at a beach town called Preila. It being 9 O'Clock, I thought nothing of the promised 5k walk to the beaches of Nida on the Baltic Sea as the sun set between 11 and 12. Unfortunately, the walk took over two hours and the sun was escaping beyond the horizon as we scrambled for a place to eat. We eventually found a chain restaurant called 'Cili Pica' that would serve us, a Lithuanian Pizza shop. My group was walking significantly faster than the group behind us. We were well into devouring our personal (and, quite frankly, delicious) pizzas when we heard a call from behind. 'Hey Guys!', the sound of a now sprinting friend could be heard, almost Doppler Effect like, as she raced towards the outdoor space where we were shovelling down slices of pizza. The scene was totally out of a romantic comedy. She had been drinking tequila and she whole-heartedly smashed into the glass door. If she had broken her nose, it probably would have ceased to be funny, but she had some minor cuts, and a bloody, although unbroken nose, and once the hubbub had died down, it was generally agreed that the sound of the whole collision alone was priceless and will stick in my mind for some time to come.

We agreed with some poor taxi driver to pick 12 of us up at 10 lits (roughy 3.50) a piece to drive all of us back to our hotel in Prehlu, a ride of about 10 minutes, at 3am. The ride home was filled with Lithuanian drinking songs, songs of comraderie and easily hit notes. I wish that Americans had incantations such as these. All I can think of is 99 Bottles of Beer, and that hardly counts for anything. But these songs conveyed a spectacular amount of emotion and brotherhood that were impossible to ignore, despite not knowing the language. I will forever be jealous of our inability to unify on a whim in song.

Today was unfortunately, for lack of a better word, miserable. It was pouring out, and the entire expanse of the atmosphere was gray. I had to tred unprotected in downpour for roughly a half mile with Vaiva to get to the bus stop. We waited nearly an hour and a half for the bus to arrive. When it dropped us off, we had to experience a bone chilling ferry ride with a bunch of grumpy folk, and a half hour walk after that to arrive at the MicroBus station for a ride back across the country to Vilnius. MicroBus is unfortunately a misnomer. As opposed to being a small bus, which would by just about any standards be large, it is about a normal sized van. I rested my heavy eyelids for the 4 hour trek back across Lithuania.

When we got back me and Vai quickly ordered some cherborraki (spelling is almost certainly not correct) which is basically mystery meat deep fried with dough. Delicious. We scarfed those down with some wine, beer, and bacon buns and were set for the evening as it was well after 8 when we got back.

I am running out of steam as it is 4:15.

At night we traipsed around town and ended up at Broadwejus, a Lithuanian dance club named after our beloved Broadway in New York. Before I go further let me describe to you the Lithuanian women. Before I came, Vaiva explained to me that they were good looking. That is almost a hysterical understatement in retrospect. There are women with, prior to this visit, unimaginable beauty. I honestly can't imagine tea time here, someone would sprain their neck. Let me give you a quick description. There are women with legs taller than their bodies and eyes of electric blue that can split you in half. Obviously, word for word, that creature sounds horrifying. But let me tell you that there are women here that are simply sublime.

I am too tired to explain my trip to the club that I went to tonight, except that Lithuanians are probably among the poorest dancers in the world. Vaiva explained to me that it has progressed in leaps and bounds in the last 6 years. That fact is frightening. I have never seen dancing this poor since Freshman year in college at the Engineering frat. It was discombublated (spelling) and jerky and just unpleasant. I enjoyed several half liters of beer and headed back to her mom's apartment.

It is time to hit the hay (just kidding, Lithuanians sleep on beds). I will try and write tomorrow.

Early Lithuanian Adventures

2007-07-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had that feeling where you stayed out late the night before, woke up in a strange place, couldn't reconcile what was going on, and then realized that you were in Lithuania? Yeah, me too. I woke up blurry eyed and walked directly into the bottom of Vaiva's mother's spiral stair case, speaking what was probably perceived as gibberish to a bunch of Lithuanian's who had spent the night there as well. Long story that I won't get into now (feel free to ask upon my return).

I arrived in Lithuania without too much trouble as the flights went with only slight (20 minutes on both legs) delays. The only odd part is that as I left the terminal in Copenhagen to go to the gate to catch my connecting flight to Vilnius, the stamp put on my passport was for June 32, 2007, a completely fictitious date and now officially marks International Theodorson Day. Hopefully, this faulty stamp won't cause any inquiries or hiccups on my return to the US.

Upon arriving in Lithuania, I thought to myself, this place is nothing like Long Island. . . As a completely unexperienced traveler, I really have never found myself in a situation where the go-to language was something other than English. If questioned, I would try to grab Vaiva's attention or otherwise look confused enough that they would pose the question in English. This method has worked out fairly well so far. Upon exiting the airport, I saw a visibly drunk teenager passing a nearly empty bottle of a strange liqour among his friends and grinning ear to ear. I saw someone peeing on a tree in broad day light. Vaiva and Darius explained that these kind of things, in general, were not specifically frowned upon here. I was beginning to wonder what I'd gotten myself into.

The airport was located on the outskirts of town, and a fifteen minute cab ride took us to Vaiva's mother's apartment which is located in what is referred to as 'Old Town', or the portion of Vilnius that has maintained the historic architecture and style of the city. It is undeniably beautiful. Ornate churchs and towers, and even a castle, grace the horizon in any direction you look. After saying hello and meeting several people at a social gathering at the apartment (I am glazing over so much here, the attendants were ambassadors to different country's and other people who, like Vaiva's mother, appear in tabloid publications with consistency), we departed to Darius' friend's house, just a short walk away. The space was among the finest structures I've ever set foot in. Aside from having a ludicrously large gazebo in a courtyard that was overlooked by a building long balcony, there were countless rooms with huge windows featuring picturesque views of the city. The toilet on the top floor is positioned so that a sky light faces the bell tower of Svento Jono, one of the largest churches in Vilnius. It was unbelievable in every sense of the word.

The main disadvantage of not speaking a language is that you can easily not pick up on something that everyone else knows. For example, the owner of that ludicrously nice house had hired a server for the party that they were hosting. Me and Vai arrived and she said that wine was good for the two of us, and this woman who I assumed was simply being a good host grabbed two glasses and generously filled up our glasses. It took me until about my fourth glass of wine when we were about 50 feet from the bottle where she saw I was getting low and asked if I wanted a refill (well, she motioned to the glass and said something I couldn't comprehend) and I said no, don't worry, I'll get it for me to realize something was up. I turned to whoever was standing next to me and asked what was up and he filled me in that she was just doing her job. I literally had no idea.

The night progressed and things go hazier and I got more tired and me and Vai headed home and so much happened before the morning that I again can't write all of it down. I slept on and off until late afternoon today, struggling with a vicious headache and 7 hours of jet lag. I then proceeded to walk around Vilnius for four hours, seeing the sights that are much more easily described through the photos that I took. One thing I can write about is dinner. I went to Cili Kaimas for dinner, a kitschy restaurant with a small, open pond and some roosters cock a doodling as we ate. I ordered the most decadent thing on the menu, deep fried 'cepelinas'. Roughly the size of potato, the dish was described by Vaiva as a meat ball wrapped in a french fry, and there is no more appropriate description than that. Needless to say it was superb.

I got back here around 1 AM as we are leaving early tomorrow for the coast on the Baltic Sea. Arkliu Gatve (Horse Street) will take us a majority of the way there. I probably won't be back to fill you in for a bit, but I'd like to let you know that I already have a billion things that I'd like to share on this but don't have the time or clarity of thought to accurately describe them. The nine days that I am spending here will undoubtedly be far too little time.

Triumphant Return for my Departure

2007-06-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

Contrary to Gigli's unpopular belief, I am not Lithuanian. However, the next 10 days of my life will be spent in that popular tourist trap, Vilnius Lithuania. Yes, June 29th marks not only the release of the wildly hyped iPhone, but also my first trip to the land of Vaiva's ancestors.

Oh, hey.

I got right into it there.

Where have I been for the last year? I'd rather not say. And the only important thing to know is that I've been. And now I'm here. And soon I'll be there. In Lithuania. Oh, one thing I guess I could talk about. I've always been a Talking Heads fan, but over the course of the last year my fandom has reached its peak, partly due to George's input, more so due to my bartering for my Zune which has upped my music listening 5 billion %, but mainly due to performances like this one. Seriously. If I had any singing/performance ability, and Lord knows I don't, I'd do that at the Careoke and literally melt faces off. Well, maybe figuratively. I guess hopefully figuratively. But c'mon! I really think everyone should watch Stop Making Sense. Alright, enough of my shameless promotion.

As I was saying, I will be departing for Lithuania in just a matter of hours now. I think Vaiva may have just purchased me a digital camera, which could be cause for some interesting snap shots along the way to have a photo log of my misadventures. Is there anyway I can get someone to sponsor me on this? Stride Gum sponsored some guy to do this all around the world. Travel Channel presents DET Blogs in Different Places, or perhaps Global Murder (Nick has pointed out that typing things like this on the internet will get me targeted by Big Brother, so if they don't let me back into the country, I will miss you all). I think that has a certain ring to it.

Anyway, this is certainly completely disjointed. I don't have the time to do this! Only travel related note is that the wheel on my suitcase is busted and so I drag/slide the thing, making me more awkward and clumsy then normal, as well as a threat to all pigeons, squirrels, and open toed shoes. I freaking miss writing this thing. I will update as frequently as I can.

Please tell my new assistant how awesome I am until she finds out the truth on Tuesday.

He Shoots. . . He Scores!

2006-04-20T13:07:00.000-07:00

Despite my inability to stick handle well/skate, I posted my first goal in the 3rd game of my hockey league. I wish I had some story of going coast to coast and then giving the goalie the 'triple deke', but it didn't happen that way.

Regardless, I shall remember this moment for some time to come.

A scuffle along the boards led to the puck being kicked free behind the net. It was then centered roughly fifteen feet in front of the goalie and someone took a whack at it. The shot was high, but caught the opposing team's tall (and at times awkward) goaltender square in the face. The puck bounced out and after a quick bounce I backhanded the knuckling puck (clipping the crossbar) into the top-right corner of the net over the goalie's left shoulder. Cue Van Halen's Panama. With raised stick, I looked for someone to embrace, but as I circled to my left I found no one. Antonellis came streaking from his spot at Right D and nearly took me off my feet (more of a testament to my poor balance than the force of the collision) and festive celebration ensued, as my linemates know that a goal by me is a rare occurrence indeed.

Although I am still (probably) technically the worst player in our league, I understand the game of hockey well enough that I am no longer a burden to the team. Most people who look to take the puck up every time and make something happen, I, instead, am happy to control the puck, slow down the game, and look for a nice breakout pass. And apparently, a big beast like me is good for both occupying defenders/screening by parking it in front of the goal, and making room and space to get to rebounds.

Anyway, we pulled our first fan base of the year with 2 disappointed looking friends cheering from the sidelines. Hopefully our fame will grow.

Oh, and we lost the game.

Team Stinger's 1-2-0.

Triumphant Return!

2006-03-29T10:19:00.000-08:00

My return will, most likely, be short lived. It will also, most likely, be unread. Alas.

The minutia of my life in the last 4 months has been enough to fill up novels, but I have left them up to your imagination. More of the same. Just read older entries. New things include my desire to lose weight, and the related sushi lunch diet. Additionally, something worth mentioning is that my friend just memorized every world capital. It is . . . frightening.

Anyway, the real reason for ressurecting this is to document the last day of my life before starting in my adult roller hockey league. I am in decent spirits right now, and am still extremely excited for it to begin. I absolutely love hockey. At least, watching hockey.

I hold the singular distinction of being the worst player in the league. I don't know this for a fact yet, but if there is someone else who is worse then me, then may God be with him. Protecting my frail body are old pads, mainly borrowed from my (much smaller) neighbors. I shall rue the day I end up between the goaltender and the shot of a skilled player. Can I get workers' comp for that? I'm pretty sure that's not the way it works.

Anyway, wish me luck (if anybody reads this far). I'll need it.

Bronce Braezeale

2005-11-30T11:31:00.000-08:00

What, or who, is Bronce Braezeale?

A scientific name of a dinosaur? A famous cyclist? The world's tallest man? The guy who finally caught Billy the Kid?

Nope. With a name like Bronce Braezeale, how do you become a member of the Fidelity Bond Claims Department at AIG? What a bad ass name, though. I had to pick up and deliver some files from him today at work. Nice guy. I also had a run in with one of the higher ups at AIG. He said it was a pleasure to meet me. I reminded him that we had bumped into each other one time earlier, when I got him some files during the fire drill at AIG. I explained that he'd help me escape.

Actually, what I said, verbatim, was, 'I've met you once before, when you helped me escape the rat race during the fire drill'.

There are two things that are good about this statement. One is that my brief journey into free style rapping has given me a knack for the meter of a sentence, as well as throwing in some internal rhyming. Silky smooth.

But more importantly, I've learned from working here with a bunch of big wigs is that they love love love cliches (hence the term big wig). I think you could guess the hierarchy of people by having a five minute conversation with each of them and counting the number of cliches they manage to throw in. If you order from most to least, you'll get from the Big Cheese to the Secretary with unerring accuracy. Or at least this is my hypothesis. Would someone fund me to see if this is an accurate statement. At my office, without question, you could rank the seniority of the lawyers by the amount of hackneyed things they say. Its really bizarre actually. Maybe some strange rite of passage or something.

I'm guessing I'm the only person who has any idea what I'm talking about at this point.

So, I'll leave you with the tidbit that it is a whopping 60 degrees (F) in NYC today and the fair weather also brings home V from Vilnius, hopefully with all sorts of goodies for me.

Thanksgiving Weekend

2005-11-29T08:35:00.000-08:00

Interesting weekend. After Thanksgiving dinner, me and a bunch of friends headed up to the Poconos for an intense 3 days of board gaming and card playing. I got to sleep just before sunrise every morning. But, just barely.

At first, I was completely unexcited about this trip as I was going to be the 5th wheel. I had visions of me sitting in a corner by myself with a beer and a frown on my face. But, with Vaiva in the Motherland (Lithuania) and my local bars overflowing with college kids home for the weekend. I thought I'd have nothing better to do than sit in the corner and frown, so what the hey. Luckily my friend Matt hopped in last minute, and James drove up the next day. With two other unattached hombres the good times began to roll. Unencumbered by the non-choice of playing with your girlfriend in board games, I was able to amass a large number of victories among the weaker teams.

The cold temperature outside (in the teens for most of the trip) trapped us inside for most of the weekend and as cabin fever began to set in, freestyle rapping spontaneously arose as a method of entertainment. The only one that sticks in my head, though, is 'I put my boozie inside my koozie and I go searching for floozies'. The record execs won't be knocking on any of our doors in the near future.

Anyway, the best part of the whole thing was how enjoyable the good night's sleep I got on Sunday night before work was. I think I'm a little shot for the next week or so, though, so I don't expect to be leaving the house much.

Jon...Jon are you out there?

2005-11-22T09:34:00.000-08:00

The concert I attended this weekend exceeded my expectations. What a diverse musical seen it provided

The first band were some weak teen chick band from Ithaca who was met with responses of indifference to threats of homicide if they didn't leave (I actually saw one guy in the pit dancing, but I'm not sure if it was for comedy or if he was just feelin' it).

A complete 180 as AntiFlag came on. A politically charged punk/core band that started out with a mindless, albeit catchy, song (You gotta die die die die die for your government, die for your country. That's shit) and quickly degraded into hardcore music that I no longer have the stomach for (I used to love that scene, I'm not really sure why anymore) and extreme leftist interludes between songs. Meh.

However, when Greg and the other 40 somethings of Bad Religion the concert made a sharp upswing with the insight and poetry of Bad Religion. It had everything. Energy, humor, sing-alongs, and a consistently stellar performance that you'd suspect a band that's done this a thousand times before would bring to the table. I moshed, I sang, I got banged in the knee. Just like the good ol' days. Although I can't describe the music other than saying its really good, there were two moments that may give you some insight into what the band is like.

After a brief equipment failure, to kill the dead time, the lead singer first instructed everyone who was taking pictures to get their cameras ready as he was going to pull off some poses (thumbs up, laid back, tough, angry, inspired, laughing) so the crowd could get some good 'action shots' of him. To check to see if the equipment repair had been successful, they had to play their instruments, but they spruced it up by asking if 'Jon was out there' and then started playing the first verse of Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi. The Central New Jersey crowd went wild.

Another interesting moment happened during the song Epiphany, someone inexplicably threw an open cell phone up on the stage. At first, Greg batted it away, not knowing what it was. But when he realized it was a phone with someone on the other end, he picked it up and without breaking from his song, placed the receiver by the microphone to give the caller a brief taste of what he was missing. The caller was lucky, however, the owner of the phone was probably not, as after singing the chorus, he looked around to see if he knew where the phone came from and wasn't really sure. So, he haphazardly shrugged and hucked up a free souvenir to someone in the front row. I hope the phone eventually made it back to its original owner.

Anyway, I'll wish the crowd an early Happy Thanksgiving as I tend to forget about this thing sometimes.

Punks and Evolutionary Biologists

2005-11-18T08:12:00.000-08:00

This Saturday I'm going to see one of my favorite bands, Bad Religion, perform at some small venue in New Jersey. I'm pretty excited because I haven't seen them perform in 3 or 4 years, I'm going to see my friend from college Ted (first person I met at college and first conversation was about Bad Religion) and get Vaiva to listen to some good punk music. She pretends she likes it but then she never listens. It'll be hard to ignore when there are 8 foot tall speakers several feet away.

I have a long history with the band. My first album was their Stranger than Fiction. They probably helped to raise my SAT Vocab score by 30-40 points. When I chose Cornell as my college, it was with hopes that some day I would meet the lead singer, Greg Graffin, who resides in Ithaca. I met him twice. Oddly enough, my friend Ted who is more obsessed with the band was my conduit to meeting the man in the first place. Ted wound up on the same Men's League Ice Hockey team as Greg Graffin. He assisted him on many goals. He got beers with him after games. He ate cake at his house for his 21st birthday. Why couldn't I have taken up hockey instead of Cross Country?

Aside from being one of the founders of Punk Rock in this country (they released their first EP before I was born, and first full length album several months after) Greg is also very close to completing, if not completed with, his doctorate in evolutionary biology from Cornell University. I read somewhere that he is one of the leading Bone Tissue Paleontologists in the world. I don't know if it is entirely true, or if it is, I don't know how many Bone Tissue Paleontologists there are on this planet. Either way, it's pretty sweet.

Anyway, tickets are still available for Saturday and can be reserved here for $20 if you want to see a great Punk Rock band perform, albeit past their prime. Their show Sunday in Times Square is already sold out (where they are headlining with Pennywise).

Recorded Messages

2005-11-17T11:55:00.000-08:00

Is anyone else getting phone calls on their cell phones from pre-recorded messages informing you of all the great things that you have won? I think I won some sort of car today. Two weeks ago: a dream vacation.

I don't understand who really buys into these, 'You've just won!' pre-recorded messages about prizes and contests that you won that you didn't know you were in the running for in the first place. I think I put my cell phone number on the Do Not Call list. But there are two problems. First, the people who call me are crafty enough to use restricted numbers, so there is no way I could possibly do anything about it. (Why do I pick up? A bunch of my friends have restricted house phones.) Secondly, and I'm not sure on this, I think the Do Not Call List may have simply been converted into a free source of numbers for these people to call. Since they call from restricted lines, how can they be identified as calling #'s from the DNCL? Then again, I'm not positive that the list has become such an auto-antonym (Thanks dictionary editor guy).

Either way, I hope I stop getting so lucky and winning all this good stuff soon. I wonder how they got my digits. If not from the Do Not Call List, I wouldn't be surprised if the cell phone outlet I brought it from wouldn't sell this kind of info to interested parties. They once tried to waive our cancellation fee from Verizon by telling the company my dad was shipped overseas to Iraq, and cancellation was not a breach of contract.

Tight Pants

2005-11-15T09:00:00.000-08:00

In accord with heightened security alerts (Orange!) on the subway system in NYC, there has been a larger and extremely more overt presence of armed guards at each subway station for the past several weeks. However, I have never seen them do anything except sit around, chatting, and occassionally swivelling their heads to check out a girl's butt in form-fitting pants. I've not once seen them attentive to a passing member of the same sex. Which leads one to wonder, what do the female police/national guardspeople do. I'm guessing they just sit around and chat. Male business fashion tends to leave suit jackets or coats that obscure the posterior.

More importantly, I think these people may be doing their jobs to the best of their ability. The threat of force, I'm guessing, means little to someone willing to blow themself up. You point a gun at them, they blow up a bomb on you. Is there presence simply supposed to deter people who are not steadfast in their desire to ignite their explosives?

Yes, this may be a little late, but I heard two cops chatting about attractive passerbys this morning at the Flatbush Avenue stop and was stunned that in the 5 minutes I was within earshot, I heard nothing but them picking girls out of the crowd. We should just put some construction workers down there.

Anyway, this entry was kind of an excuse to put up this article from Slate Magazine today about a recent change in the administration's stance on the War in Iraq. I thought it was pretty nifty.

Kneel Young

2005-11-10T13:30:00.000-08:00

I was at the Stingers last night celebrating my dear friend's 23rd birthday. Only one problem, he did not show up. But, even if he decided to poop his own party, I sucked in the scenery (and pints) and enjoyed Wild Wing Wednesday until 11PM, where wings are only 10 cents a pop (go with the teriyaki, they are a cut above) and they have this internet juke box with every song ever made on it.

Or so I thought.

Since its installation the internet juke box has been a smash hit. Way out of the park. On Friday and Saturday nights you have to wait two hours to hear your picks, but its worth it when you can make the entire bar listen to punk rock to hardcore to funk to Mexican Radio by Wall of Voodoo. I normally try to get a little of everything out of my $5.

Last night though, the queue was very short and my tunes got put on right away. I started out with Take 5 by David Brubeck, followed with a song by Xavier Rudd (a famous digeridoo-ist) then to Aces High by Iron Maiden. I then expected to play Hey, Hey, My, My by Neil Young.

But, despite the fact that they have 17 Iron Maiden albums, they do not have a single Neil Young album on there. I scrolled through at least 8 Neil Diamond albums to figure this out. This isn't happening to me. I had to look over my shoulder for Rod Sterling doing an intro to an episode of the Twilight Zone. For a second I thought maybe he spelled his name Kneel Young until I realized he wasn't a total jackass.

What gives? They had two albums from (in my opinion, vastly inferior) CSNY and one from Crazy Horse, but no Neil? It's Mr. Young's birthday on Saturday, which my friend Ted reminds me constantly as they share the same one (why he tells me this I do not know. I share a birthday with Herman Munster but I don't shout that from the tree tops). They had music by a guy who plays the digeridoo. They have Iron Maiden albums in the double digits. They have unheard of albums from Ithaca bands and other no names.

So does Neil Young hate Internet Juke Boxes or do Internet Juke Boxes hate Neil Young? Since I love the IJB so much, I don't think it matters. I can no longer support him.

Water Cooler

2005-11-09T10:03:00.000-08:00

At my office, no one ever talks at the water cooler. Although, plenty of people here drink plenty of water. I bet we go through about 1 of those big jugs a day. I know this because I, pretty much exclusively, replace the water. Today someone else did it. I wonder who?

I'm pretty sure most of the lawyers here pretty much feel that they are above doing it. They have JD's, what would they be doing lifting a jug of water? I know I've never seen it since I started here. That leaves the Secretaries and the paralegals. I'm not sure that any of the secretaries in today could move it (the only able bodied one is out today) as they move more like dinosaurs than people. The jug would run a serious risk of tipping them over.

And the other paralegal? I don't think she uses the cooler, although I think she at least could feasibly lift it.

I don't think I'll ever know.

Election Day

2005-11-08T08:32:00.000-08:00

Election Day at the Rockville Centre Rail Road Station was pretty nuts. For the past month or so, with increasing regularity, one or several politicians for Nassau County government positions would greet me at the bottom or top of the escalator, or both. Now, maybe I'm a bit strange, but shaking a person's hand who has been sitting around around shaking hands for the past 2 hours is not my idea of a great first impression. The plastic smile tattooed to their face, the practiced firmness of the grip, the canned 'I need your support on Tuesday, November 8th' all left a bad taste in my mouth up until today, when it is finally all over with. Well, I'm guessing they'll be there when I get home from work, too.

My least favorite is Counselman Santino, who's big, sweaty hands have grossed me out on several occassions. I don't know what he stands for, but, despite all of his efforts to win me over in the past month, he will not receive my vote at the ballot box. No one will, actually. I have no knowledge of local government officials. All I know is that I hate the campaign as every day I see several garbage cans overflowing with unread flyers, etc. Knowing that this process isn't unique to Rockville Centre leads me to believe that every year around campaign time several (hundred) miles of trees are cut down for unread information on politicians on a nationwide basis. I really wish they could just give people cash. They've given me tic-tacs, they've given me donuts, they've given me pens. I used the tic-tacs and the donuts. I never read their ads, but they pay people money to design them and they pay money to print them. I wish they could just total the amount of money they'd spend on me and hand me that much money. I never read the info anyway, and I'd be much more inclined to vote for someone who gave me $5 or $10 then someone who is basically asking me to take this thing from them and put it over there in the garbage for me. I don't want to read a biased appraisal of someone at 7:30 in the morning.

I'd take a 5 Spot, though.

It'd be better for the environment, it'd be easier for the candidate, and people would appreciate it more. In a capitalist democracy, I really don't understand why this would raise such a red flag. The money wouldn't have to guarantee that you vote, just like you aren't guaranteed to read their flyers. I think everyone would be happier. The candidate with the bigger budget tends to win anyway.

How much money is wasted on a losing campaign? At least this way it'd be spread out more equitably

Oooo Rah

2005-11-04T08:29:00.000-08:00

The weekend is coming, and for the first time in quite some time I really want to see a new movie. Although, I'm pretty sure that I've been duped by a successful trailer. Not even the trailer. The 2 syllables uttered by Jamie Foxx.

Oooo Rah.

If you haven't seen the trailer, it's emotionally and visually intense images of soldiers trekking through the desert with operatic, apocalyptic music playing (I actually think it's Kanye) followed by a moment of stillness (visually and audibly) with Mr. Foxx emitting such a primal and jarring sound that hearing it in the context of the movie is probably worth the price of admission itself.

Then again, upon reading reviews, it seems like the trailer may be quite deceptive as to the actual content of the film. Not much action and a whole lot of inaction. I'll probably feed 'em my $10 anyway.

Punch Day

2005-11-03T09:27:00.000-08:00

Today is my least favorite day of the week. No, not Thursday. Thursdays are great. It's also pay day for me. Which is sweeter than any normal Friday, Saturday, or Sunday (Football season included.)

Today is Punch Day. Let me assure you, it's not as bad as it sounds. As a daily commuter on the LI Double R I don't have to jump through the hoops that the lesser commuter has to. My interaction with the conductor involves me sleeping/reading/playing PSP and placing my wallet open on my right knee, proudly displaying my monthly ticket. "Thank you, sir" and "Great" are the comments I usually receive. But on Punch Day, things are totally different.

Like the normal patron, my monthly pass has to be 'punched' for reasons I have yet to determine. Once a week they disturb my normal state of aloofness and surprise me. "I need to punch that" they tell me, and being snapped into the real world throws me for a loop. My fingers fail as I try to slide my pass from it's compartment with my ID. I smile weakly as I hold up the whole process and the conductor taps his toe impatiently among the splatter of credit cards and other gizmos I keep in much easier to access areas of my wallet.

I think the conductor knows me now, and is no longer surprised at my futility on Punch Day. At least I've got 7 days before I've gotta do this whole thing again.

Literally

2005-11-02T07:49:00.000-08:00

While checking out my comments today, I noticed something.

Lithuanians.

Well, labas to all you crazy lugans and acieu for your comments. And at this point I've exhausted my Lithuanian vocabulary and there will be no more impressing you with my bilinguality (Bi-linguality? Maybe my English needs some tweaking as well.)

Speaking of words and such, I found this article quite interesting. Well, as interesting as anything ever penned by an Editor of the Oxford English Dictionary. What a prestigious/undesirable job. I mean, he's pretty much editor of the English language. But editing definitions has got to take a toll on your creativity and I'm going to have to guess your general will to live. The fact that he even pulls out the word auto-antonym is enough to give you some insight into this man's life. Oh yeah, the article is about the (mis)use of the word literally.

*Insert lame sentence using word literally improperly here*

Or as it turns out, perhaps it's a proper use after all. I find it amusing that people are such sticklers against the term literally that I have been called out (and, probably have called other people out) for similar usage, and the Editor of the OED doesn't have a problem with it. This guy edits definitions. Who's got a stick up their ass now?

Oh yeah, went to the Islander's game last night. Ridiculous seats. Could have spit on the ice (or any one of the Boston Bruins) but resisted.

4-3 Isles, OT.

Because that would be the POLITE thing to do.

2005-11-01T08:45:00.000-08:00

This morning while riding my daily escalator up at Wall Street, there was a slight snag as people used both sides of the escalator to stand still, not opening up a lane for the movers & shakers who like to walk while escalating. I can understand, if you happen to be one of those movers, or shakers, how it could be a slight inconvenience for you. However, one particularly brash rider standing 4 people deep on a stagnant side of the elevator interrupted my normally quiet elevation with this exchange.

"Excuse me, some people like to walk on this side"
Silence
"You could always just step to your right, people"
(The escalator was saturated, no possible way to step to your right.)
"Well, that would be the polite thing to do"
"I guess that doesn't apply for you guys"
He really laid the emphasis on thickly, and after those 4 quick thoughts of his, the ride had finished.

Bear in mind I was on the proper side of the escalator, so these comments were in no way directed at me. Regardless, I don't understand this man's frustration. He seemed genuinely upset, upset enough to vocalize his displeasure, that he couldn't get his 3 or 4 steps upwards in during the elevator ride. The whole ride takes no more than 8 seconds. If it's the speed that is your issue, you are getting to work at a maximum of 3 seconds earlier with those steps. If it's the exercise you crave, take the stairs.

But, far more interesting to me is the fact that he believed that the other riders were being extremely rude, while he was completely in the right. If he were being polite, as he was begging others to be, he should have kept his mouth shut and sucked it up. What's good for the goose, pal. I hope that man stubs his toe.

Bloody Noses and Phlegm

2005-10-31T10:55:00.000-08:00

It's been awhile. But don't worry, the sickness couldn't keep me down and I'm back on my feet again. The posts will continue to appear at their normal rate.

Well, I'm kind of on my feet again. I keep coughing things up at work, and my nose started bleeding when I went to blow it. Totally gross (Not nearly as bad as Vai's 'Bucket of Joy' after the 'Bad Tacos', but that's a whole different story) and even a little bit disarming. If anyone had seen me (I'm neatly tucked away in a corner cube here) I would have been really embarassed. The convo probably would have went something like this.

"Your nose is bleeding"
". . .Yeah"
"Are you OK?"
". . .Yeah"

Awkward Silence.

"OK"

Awkward Silence.

Person walks away and everyone feels like a weirdo for the encounter. I'm thankful I had my bloody nose in seclusion.

DO NOT apply butter or grease

2005-10-25T12:07:00.000-07:00

Today at lunch I sat next to this emergency grab bag of what to and what not to do in case of emergency. Sadly, the above caption was included on what not to do if you find yourself with burn wounds on your skin. Who really needs this tidbit of information? Clearly, it's not just two random products that they've listed. It doesn't tell me to not apply chocolate chip cookies or blueberry pancakes to my 2nd degree burns. Because, obviously, no one would think that was a good idea. We then arrive at the truth that a fair amount of people would believe that applying grease or butter to their boiling skin is standard operating procedure. People need to be instructed against this. Survival of the Fittest has failed.

Not that I see too many burn victims, but if I do see one I hope this sign isn't around and they apply either grease or butter. Hilarity would ensue. Without question. For hours.

Yawns

2005-10-24T08:28:00.000-07:00

Pretty long weekend leads to a slow start here on Monday. The temperature is finally getting low enough that it is officially cold outside. Why does the fall last for a grand total of 2 weeks? The temperature has also fallen enough that I've missed any really good weather at my alma mater, and will probably stay away from Upstate NY in the winter. I also wanted to go camping. Man, time is flying on by.

I do have things to look forward to this week, most notably a return to the trivia game on Thursday night. I hope this doesn't fall through. Trivia is fun. And I think we have a legitimate shot at taking home the gold with increased understanding of the 'Joker' round and the fact that 3 or so questions will not be about Harry Potter. Also, Monday Night Football tonight features the Jets against the Falcons. I'm not positive this is a good thing. It may just mean many more people watch the Jets offense (Operated by a 42 year old man at QB) struggle against Atlanta's stellar D. For what it's worth, Let's Go Jets!

Trivia and Cold Beer

2005-10-21T07:40:00.000-07:00

There are few things that remind me as much about college as Trivia and Booze. If only they had Apricot Wheat at Rocky Sullivan's Pub, I'd be a permanent fixture at the contest on Thursdays. Unfortunately waking up becomes a task in and of itself when the earliest feasible bed time is around 1:30 AM (Gotta love the public transport in Greenpoint late at night) and you have to get an episode of the West Wing in before you sleep. Thankfully after waking up I wasn't hungover, just groggier than a frog.

Trivia went well with our team finishing somewhere in the middle of the road, which isn't bad considering the size of some of the other teams. I think if we had one more brain in there (5th man) that was complimentary to what Darius, Ellen, Vaiva, and I brought to the table we could have left that place with the Blue Ribbon. There's always next week, where I have guaranteed victory, although I'm not certain I'm even going to show up. I'd like to, though, as it was a jolly good time.

Subway broke down this morning, and all A,C,V, and R trains were discontinuing service to Manhattan, so I strolled into the office a little bit late. Luckily, lawyers normally don't start streaming in until about 10AM or so.

One last thing about Trivia, Liam needs to get rid of his crush on Harry Potter.

We should reunite P Pi Tornado for one last hurrah.

Theme Songs

2005-10-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about how much I like theme songs recently. I really, really like them. I like theme songs to television shows. I like theme songs to movies. I like funny theme songs. I like cheezy theme songs. I like serious theme songs.

I like theme songs that aren't even songs.

Wait, that doesn't make any sense.

I think I can remember every theme song from everything I've ever seen. Well, this isn't true. For some reason I'm struggling to think of the theme song from the Superman movies. I'm failing. All that keeps coming to mind is the Star Wars song from the credits (the only song I can play on the piano. And, I can only kind of play it. Full Disclosure: I know like 8 notes that I can play over and over again until somebody stops me) and the theme from Mighty Mouse.

But the bottom line is that I know a scary number of theme songs ranging from Chip N' Dales Rescue Rangers to Perfect Strangers to Jurassic Park. Who could forget about Gummy Bears (Bouncing here and there and everywhere) DuckTales (Whooo Ooo!) Requiem For a Dream (Scariest Song. Ever.) and the Simpsons (Doooo do do Dah dooo do do Dah dodododo)

I'll stop. You're bored with this. I know I am.

Wall St. Stop, Have a Fair Tuesday

2005-10-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

Wow. Even the Subway conductors get to chuckle at people getting off at the Wall St. Stop. Have a 'fair Tuesday'. Could there be a limper way to wish someone well? I don't think so. At least the security guards say, 'Good Morning, Sir'. But even that can be kind of uncomfortable. Robotic. Then again, they probably say it to the tune of 10,000 times a week *Shudders*

Today as I was walking to the Train Station, I realized what the easiest job in the world is, bar none. It makes dog walker and retail store greeter and coxswain seem excruciatingly difficult. And that is the crossing guard. Wow, what an easy job. Slap on an orange vest, and help a handful of people walk across the street every day. And, it's not even all the way. They walk them half of the way there, and let them get past the other lane of traffic by themselves. I wonder what they get paid . . .

Drained

2005-10-17T06:47:00.000-07:00

Ahh, glorious Mondays. Always full of people slowly getting up to 'work speed' after the weekend. Otherwise known as 'The Mondays', or at least referred to as such by Peter Gibbons' co-workers.

The weather is finally getting nice, albeit windy, in NYC. The sun is finally in my eyes instead of behind clouds, which is a a large improvement.

I think part of my own sluggishness has been caused by an onslaught of terrible commercials that I saw yesterday. Not to sound like an old man, but I swear commercials used to be better in my adolesence. Commercials were good enough to make me purchase things called Snaliens (A hybrid of a Snail and an Alien. Who came up with this?) and Battle Trollz (use your imagination).

And what child did not yearn to own (Can Anything Stop) The Animal? Or the Typhoon (Remote controlled hovercraft) based on the marketing alone. Who cares if you knew the real thing would not come close to the expectations of the commercials. But all these products had obscenely good commercials with great jingles and tons of disclaimers about how the product would not perform exactly as depicted in the ad.

Now commercials are full of guys with deep voices saying things that are supposed to inspire awe in the customer. Unfortunately, none of them make sense. It took me several viewings of the same commercial for NFL Sunday Ticket to let me realize despite the grandiose string of words the narrator throws together (Victory, Glorious, Courage, etc.) his statements make absolutely no sense. He just happens to have a deep voice.

I guess I should probably just start reading more.

Excuse Me, Sir, Are You Jewish?

2005-10-14T12:11:00.000-07:00

I have been asked this question 3 times in the past week. Including twice today in the span of no more than 10 minutes.

I know, I know, I didn't take off for Yom Kippur. Weak move on my part. You don't have to rub it in my face.

I wonder what these people are recruiting Jewish people for. I think it's some sort of Jewish camp type thing. I heard them chatting with someone about it 10 feet away from me but couldn't eavesdrop enough to catch what was going on. Maybe I should just pretend I am the next time they ask me so I can find out what they have to offer. If it's super sweet, I think I'll be able to play the part. How hard could it be?

I'm sure they'll ask me on Monday. Probably 3 times. I must know the truth.

New York is starting to feel like a rainforest without the animals, plants, and nature. Which is to say it hasn't stopped raining here in a long time. Is there any hope for the weekend? Just one ray of light is all I really want. Let me know that thing in the sky is still burning.

By the way, sweet comments on my posts by people I don't know who love my blog and think that I should visit their (Transvestite Porn, most likely) websites.

Thanks, guys.

Blog IV: The Awakening

2005-10-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

Big Up to the 0 people who read my blog.

I bet you couldn't wait til my next post.

You thought I forgot about you.

I did.

But that doesn't matter now. I'm back. At least for the day.
Today is Yom Kippur. There are no lawyers at the office today. They are all fasting. I should have just pretended to be Jewish. We already get all the big Christian Holidays off. I'm so stupid! Here's a bit of advice for anyone who has the opportunity: When in doubt, pretend to be part of a minority. They get advantages: Bonus!

It has been Gloom (York) City in NYC for the last week as a giant cloud has parked itself over the whole metropolitan area. Nothing but rain and grayness. Hopefully the sky will cheer up in the next couple days.

Anyway, folks, it's good to be back. Kind of. A little bit. Maybe.

Maybe you'll hear from me again, some day.

Writing this thing makes me feel like I'm talking to myself.

Elevator Music

2005-06-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

The only thing more boring than elevator music is the conversations that you hear two people having on the elevator. It used to be varied boring conversations, but now they are all the same. People whining about the Yankees. It's unbelievable how everyone around here seems to be emotionally invested in this team. During no other sports season (Football, (Hockey), Basketball) did anyone ever make a peep about an athlete. Now everyone is talking about this hex that is on the Yanks. Who cares? Baseball is boring. It's the only sport where you can actively talk about other things and not concentrate on, and completely catch everything that is going on. It is such an uninvolved sport. I'm guessing that's why so many people love it.

The other thing about the elevator that annoys me is that people have an obsession with pushing buttons. I love the 'Close Doors' button on the elevator here. It's very obviously a placebo. It doesn't light up, and the doors never close any sooner if you bang on it. But every time someone steps in, they'll press it two or three times. People also tend to hit the buttons to floors if they are already lit up, if that's their destination. Stop doing that.

And finally, it's been a rough week for my mom. She saw my brother's name in the Rockville Centre Herald police blotter as he was picked up for an open container. No big deal, but I'm sure she was absolutely embarassed at work. However, and most likely far worse, my younger bro went to a Jamaican bar last night, despite having work this morning. My mom found him passed out on the sofa downstairs with vomit 'all over' at 5 am. I'm sure she exaggerated the magnitude of this event, but still, poor mama. She thought her sons were all grown up. Hopefully I'll manage to stay out of too much trouble this weekend. If a third alcohol related incident occurs within a one week period, I can't imagine she'd be anything but irate.

Maybe I'll take it easy this weekend.

Probably not.

People are Weird

2005-06-07T09:02:00.000-07:00

Today on the Subway into work, I realized something that I was hoping wasn't true. Every day there's this middle aged Asian man plugging away on his calculator. I was always hoping that he was playing a game, or something, anything, other than what he is doing. I peered over his shoulder as he was sitting down, and this man was just multiplying two random large numbers. He would get an answer, look at it for maybe ten seconds with a look of deep thought on his face, and then repeat the process. What in the world is going through this person's skull? Is this fun for him? He does this every day. Or at least, every time I've seen him for the last 6 months, which is quite often. What a total weirdo.

I can't imagine that this accomplishes anything productive. The man also is looks around every once in awhile to make sure no one is watching. Boy, did I fool him. I'm on to you.

In other news, the financial district has smelled funny the last couple of days as the weather is warming up. I can't put my finger on the odor, but I don't like it. I hope it's not just the smell of people dressed in suits walking around in the hot sun stinking up the joint, or I'm in for a long summer. It may also be simply the smell of all the garbage produced by the millions of people around here rotting in the heat. Please be something other than these two alternatives. Something temporary.

My weekend was enjoyable, as I managed to find a beirut game each night and then made it out into town to play pool. Although in beirut I sported a hefty winning percentage, my pool game was akin to taking a big dump on the table. Maybe next time I should play pool first, and then beirut.

Anyway, it's Tuesday and I'm ready for the weekend already. I think I have something planned maybe. Is the Belmont Stakes next Saturday? If so, I think someone asked me if I wanted to go to that. I kinda do. But, I probably won't.

Enter the Blog

2005-06-03T12:15:00.000-07:00

I never thought I'd be the Blog type. Senseless info about a persons day to day life that couldn't occupy more than a single exchange in a normal conversation is somehow blown up into a thesis statement for the day, chocked full of pet peeves, innuendo, and life lessons. These things really, kinda, sorta annoy me. But . . .

EVERYDAY AT WORK I GET SO BORED THAT I HAD TO CREATE THIS MONSTROSITY.

Now that that's out of my system, I'll fill you in on the scoop. Spreadable Cheddar? What the hell is that. Well, obviously, spreadable cheddar cheese. Fantastic. But, more importantly, if I was in a band that was what it would be called. Even if I were the drummer or some other member that has absolutely no naming power, I'd make it happen. At the end of a concert, I'd scream into the Mic, 'Thanks a lot for coming out, we're Spreadable Cheddar' even if we weren't. Until we were.

However, this ambition to be a part of something called this is trumped by my severe lack of musical talent. In fact, I lack any talents that would allow me to be a part of any group that had a name. Hence, the blog.

Congrats, you've just wasted the last minute of your life. At the very least, take solace in the fact that this took me 5 minutes to write.