And I'm Back

Going to the gym is something I enjoy. I always feel better about myself, mentally and physically, after a workout. The results don’t really show when I exercise often, I’m still just skinny and pale, but at least I feel better. It’s been well over a year since I went to the gym because there wasn’t one convenient to me after I moved, but now I’m back in the city and there are at least three within reasonable walking distance so I don’t have that excuse anymore. I really have been meaning to join one but just haven’t gotten around to it because I’ve had other things to do. My social calendar is just booked solid for months at a time, you know how it is. Now that the holidays are just about over and I have nothing but time on my hands I really should get on that though, but there is another problem I face now. I can’t join a gym right now and have everyone thinking that I made some New Year’s resolution to get in shape. It’s a mental roadblock I just can’t seem to get around. I can be lumped in with that same group of indolent people who need an excuse to get off there ass. I need that excuse for everything else in my life, but not this. So basically I have to wait a month to do something I wanted to do weeks ago because I am a little lazy and a lot weird.

It’s not as if I hate New Year’s resolutions. I actually kind of enjoy them. I like structure, I like procrastination, and I like round numbers. A New Year’s resolution offers all of those things. You have a full year to accomplish a goal, a very structured amount of time. Most resolutions are something a person should have been doing a long time ago, but you can put it off until the New Year and call it a resolution. And you have definitive start date. It’s perfect really. I do in fact have a resolution, its money related, in the sense of me not spending so much of it. It should be a pretty easy goal to achieve taking into consideration the fact that I eat out everyday for lunch and most days for dinner. The simple act of making a sandwich ever once in a while has the potential to save me hundreds of dollars. Also I would like to be enrolled in a graduate program by the end of the year. That’s sort of money related as well since the only real reason I want to do this is to get paid more. Who really cares about bettering oneself of the pursuit of knowledge? Not me.

Those aren’t very exciting at all though, so I decided I need to jazz it up a little. True to my usual form, I need a resolution that is virtually impossible for me to accomplish but that I can feign total confidence in my ability to do so. Everyone knows about my marathon running, that is a great example, and it has to be accomplished within the year, but that’s a bet, so I need a different one for my resolution. Here is what I chose: by the end of the year 2007 I would like to dunk a basketball. Why would I pick this you ask? For the obvious reason, dunking is badass, and so am I. Can I do this? No, absolutely not. I’m 5’10”, not in good shape, and could barely touch the rim when I was, but I made it my resolution and if I don’t do it I’m a total failure. So good luck to me.

Here are a few more of my resolutions:

At the top of my list: "Continue to kick ass"
And then I hope to "Be as bad as I know I can be"
Also, to "Really put it out there, and by it I mean Sammy's mojo"
In addition, I plan to "Give it as good as I get it"
"Be all that and more"
and "Lose my shyness, vis a vis the rocket in my pocket"
Plus, I plan to "Work my voodoo on the lady fans"
"Take a thorn out of some cat's paw."
and "Build a shrine to my own bad ass"
Then, it's time to "Give the demons what for"
"Spare the rod and spoil the face"
and "Continue to kick ass"
After which, I'll "Show the bad men what it's all about"
"Release a dove from a ghetto rooftop"
and "Cradle a newborn baby in the ruins of a church"
Finally, this year, I will "Stick it to all the suckas"
and I'm gonna "Show the man that I mean business"
..and I'm gonna "Take a computer class."

(if you get the reference you’re my new favorite reader)

Talk about heart warming

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is a beloved Christmas classic. Nothing gets me in the spirit of the season like Burl Ives. That guy can narrate the hell out of a tale. I have a few random thoughts I’d like to discuss though.

First of all, Santa is a total dick in the cartoon. He’s an intolerant bigot. He’s all I hope Rudolph grows out of that nose thing or he’ll never make the sleigh team. How ‘bout you don’t judge a book by its cover you racist (and don’t get me started on Donner, nothings ever good enough for you is it Dad?). Then Ms. Clause is just trying to make him a nice meal and he won’t eat because he’s all crabby about the singing elves and all their damn Christmas spirit. You’re Santa how do you hate Christmas music? Then he tries to cancel Christmas at the drop of a hat. All I know is King Moonracer wouldn’t potentially ruin the lives of thousands of children because of a few flurries. Also he gains about 150 pounds in like an hour, I’m no doctor but that seems like something he might want to have checked out. And doesn’t Santa usually hand deliver the toys, or is because they’re misfit toys that they just get dropped off the sleigh with nothing more than an umbrella and a kick in the ass. I been walking down the street and had a light breeze turn my umbrella inside out. I’m all for Christmas magic and everything but I don’t think those umbrellas are going to cushion the fall from about 22,000 feet. Basically Santa is just sending the misfit toys to their death. There’s a word for that Santa, its called genocide, or ethnic cleansing if you prefer.

Abominable Snow Monster, if you’re really coming to Christmas Town looking for work, maybe you want to have more skills on your resume than being tall enough to put the star on the tree. Because they can get an elf to make a ladder for free and accomplish the same task. Also I just saw Yukon Cornelius lift up 4 elves at once to do the same thing, and he can also mine for silver and gold and lead a team of sled dogs so by my estimation that makes you useless.

Was Charlie in the Box always flamboyantly gay? I don’t remember that.

I don’t even want to talk about Hermey, that guy is just a train wreck.

Have holly jolly Christmas. After all, it is the best time of the year. Unless you’re an elf working for the a hole Santa.

Update Operation:F U Jake and Matt

As you may or may not know I am running marathon to win a bet. I started training in early November and I can only say that progress is slow but steady. I am in infinitely better shape than I was a few months because, well, I do stuff now. On the other hand I am nowhere near where one should be should they want to run 26 miles in a reasonable amount of time. As previously stated I was using hatred as my main form of motivation, but that doesn’t seem to be enough anymore. Things have become stagnant, I need a new push. Fortunately, with the help of the Sports Guy, I’ve found a weapon to give me that extra edge needed to put me over the top, the kick in ass that will keep my feet moving when I’m too tired to run anymore. That’s right friend, I have just added to my iPod “Going the Distance” from the Rocky soundtrack. I’m telling you that it is a near physical impossibility to run slowly once you hear those bells tolling. This may push me under a three hour marathon I get that fired up about it. There are a few potential negatives to this new development though that I am more than a little worried about:

1. Goosebumps add wind resistance, which could slow me down.

2. I fear tripping over one of the hundreds of children running behind me; it’s an injury waiting to happen.

3. It will be difficult to complete a 15-20 mile training running after having sprinted the first ten minutes because I’m so pumped up about the Rocky music. I sense a lot of vomiting resulting from this.

4. I may miss several schedule runs due to my impending legal battles caused by punching strangers in the face and yelling “Yo Adrian, we did it” because I’m so pumped up about the Rocky music.

We’ll just have to wait and see, but I think with the help of the Italian Stallion I may be able reach heights previously though to be unreachable and make Operation: F U Jake and Matt a success.

Let's Go Bowling

Fiestas Bowl
Orange Bowl
Rose Bowl
Sugar Bowl
National Championship Game

ok I'll give you that, but:

Brut Sun Bowl
AT&T Cotton Bowl
Toyota Gator Bowl
Capital One Bowl
AutoZone Liberty Bowl
Chick-fil-A Bowl
PetroSun Independence Bowl
Outback Bowl
Pacific Life Holiday Bowl
Insight Bowl
Champs Sports Bowl
Pioneer PureVision Las Vegas Bowl
Alamo Bowl
Motor City Bowl
MPC Computers Bowl
Gaylord Hotels Music City Bowl presented by Bridgestone
GMAC Bowl
Texas Bowl
R+L Carriers New Orleans Bowl
Emerald Bowl
Sheraton Hawaii Bowl
Meineke Car Care Bowl
Bell Helicopters Armed Forces Bowl
San Diego County Credit Union Poinsetta Bowl
Papajohns.com Bowl
New Mexico Bowl
International Bowl

Some people try and argue that college football is better than the NFL. That is false.

I mean, it's not even the Papa Johns bowl, it's the Papajohns.com bowl.

(P.S. As a fellow ginger, and also by special request, I would like to wish a happy 23rd bday to the reddest redhead I know, even though she's moving away probably never to return, which is upsetting)

Seriously you guys

Dear Friends on the West Coast,

Remember when, for a solid year to year and a half, I was pretty certain that I either had chronic fatigue syndrome or the most extreme case of mono ever? Or how for a while I seemed to be tired all the time and was prone to falling asleep at inappropriate times and places, like class or bars? My point is that sleep is a very important part of ones life, and perhaps even more important for myself when taking into account my notorious lack of energy. I’m a complete waste of space when I don’t get at least a solid 7 hours. This is where you guys come into play. You can help me in my quest to get a good nights rest. How you ask? Well there is a time difference between Maryland and California, so to ensure that you are not depriving me of my much needed siesta you could stop calling me at 4 or 5 in the morning 3 days a week. It’s killing me. Just think to yourself, the bar just closed meaning its pretty late here so it must very late on the east coast and it would be totally inappropriate for me to call someone right now. Well actually, calling because you were reminded of the time in college that you convinced me that I was talking in my sleep about Kristy Yamiguchi is fine. That was a pretty funny joke that I had forgotten about and was happy to remember it. I still think it could’ve waited until the morning though. But Dave, come on, did you really need to call me from your vacation in Vegas just to have all of our friends chant that I’m a pussy. I know that everyone loves that chant and I’m sure that you all had a great time doing it, but at 4 a.m. on a Sunday, dammit.

I know what you’re going to say too, it’s your own fault Eric, why don’t you just turn off your phone at night? And I’d say, I’m sort of a paranoid person by nature and since my cell phone is my only means of communication the minute I turn it off at night something terrible will happen to a loved one and I will be impossible to reach for assistance until it’s much to late. So I hope your little jokes are worth a tragedy involving someone very close to me Friends on the West Coast.

I still love you though,

Eric

I'm a Bit of a Foody

In a fit of laziness yesterday I posted a few links to stories that I found amusing and/or interesting. Surprisingly the only thing anyone seemed to focus on was the fact that I had tried broccoli for the first time ever this week. It was shocking to people, but if you think that’s strange you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. While the title has yet to be bestowed upon me I may be The World’s Pickiest Eater. So let’s talk about some of my food related neurosis.

Some of them are rather common, for example I despise mayonnaise. It is without a doubt my least favorite thing in the world, not just food, I mean out of everything in the entire world I hate mayonnaise more than anything. If mayonnaise has touched anything that I may at some point consume I can’t eat it. And don’t try and be funny and sneak some mayonnaise on my sandwich, because I’ll know, and I will punch you in the face. I also don’t eat seafood; I can’t get over the smell. This seems mildly reasonable to most people until they find out that I lived no more than a few minutes from the ocean for the first 20 years of my life. It’s like I grew up in some seafood Mecca and it’s sacrilegious for me not to love it. Also when I moved away I moved to Maryland where if you bad mouth a blue crab you’re putting your life in serious jeopardy.

Then there are the texture issues, there are a large assortment of things that I can’t eat because of texture. A lot of them I actually enjoy the flavor but the texture makes me want to vomit. Melons would be a good example of this, watermelons are delicious, but they are so squishy and gross I can’t eat them. The whole it’s a solid but not really thing bothers me. The only fruit I eat really are apples and grapes. Not all of that is texture related (like pears are just disgusting), but a lot of it is. Oranges, tangerines, peaches, apricots, you name I spurn them based on texture. Also gummi bears or anything in the gummi family I hate for the same reasons.

Vegetables are a different story. I just didn’t eat a wide variety as a child. We had corn, potatoes, or green beans most of the time. I’m actually finding I like most vegetables raw, but cooked is a different story. I love mashed potatoes, but I find that if they’re to smooth they make me gag and if they’re too lumpy the same result occurs. I don’t like mushy vegetables either. Bean are just sick, black, pinto, lima, whatever. Gross. And why do people cook vegetables down to the consistency of baby food. Carrots and celery are perfectly delicious when they have some bite to them, why ruin that. I love raw onions, I could eat them like apples if that were acceptable in polite society, but I don’t like cooked onions. Although if I’m eating a cheeseburger and an onion starts peeking out the side of the bun I usually take it off, I don’t really get it either.

There are many more examples of my craziness. I’m fairly certain most of it boils down to childhood opinions of things that are icky and if I actually tried more things I’d find that I rather enjoy some of them, but I’m not willing to take that chances. I have started to expand my horizons lately. I’ve added asparagus, bell peppers, and most recently broccoli to my vegetable repertoire. I ate lobster a few months ago and didn’t hate it, but I think if you slathered my own arm in enough melted butter I’d eat it and find it lovely. There is hope for me yet, but seriously don’t put any mayonnaise on my food or you’ll regret it.



Speaking of food the old alma mater is having an excellent food/poop related epidemic. I miss that place.

I Got Nothing

Deer commits suicide. Claims "it" can't take the stares anymore. Excellent quotes from hunter/master of the obvious ensue.

As usual, I am just not funny enough to do this justice.

What's wrong with America: How many people saw the headline and the first thing they thought was, wait is he a Democrat or Republican?

Thank God this is finally settled. I don't know about you but I haven't slept in 10 years wondering about this mystery.

The fine folks at Fox News don't "get" Jay-Z. Duh.

Wait, wait, wait. I always thought she was a lesbian.

I ate broccoli for the first time ever yesterday. I wasn't bad.

Get Out of the City

Augusto Pinochet died on Sunday. Apparently he is a character that creates a very divided opinion among the masses. To some a ruthless dictator who murdered and tortured thousands of people in a coup d'etat. To others a figure who ushered in unparalleled economic success and politic freedoms in South America. I actually have no idea, I'm not too up on my world politics. I just enjoy his name because it reminds of Bronson Pinchot. You may know him better as the lovable Balki Bartokomous on tv's Perfect Strangers.

I'll be fighting maturity 'til the bitter end

I consider myself to be in sort of a transition age. Things are starting to slow down a little bit. The first few years out of school didn’t seem terribly different from college (of course I mean in the sense of your social life, everything else was completely different, and much less awesome). We basically did all the same things we did in college and acted like just as huge of jackasses, but now we had a steady income so we drank better beer and went to Atlantic City a lot more often. But now we’re in transition age. People are turning into real life adults. Half my friends are married. Many have bought their first house. When people start having kids that’s when I’ll begin to feel really old. Those of course are the major results on the changeover to adulthood; I am more interested in the little difference because I think they’re hilarious.

I went to a holiday party thrown by a friend of my roommates this weekend, I didn’t know very many people there, and it was rife with examples of how life is different now than it was just a few years ago. I don’t hate wine, and it’s starting to grow on me, but in general I would usually prefer a beer so I’m always thrown off when I show up at a party and that’s all anyone is drinking (with the other featured drinks being egg nog and hot chocolate, it is a Christmas party after all). When did we stop drinking keg beer out of red solo cups? I don’t know but I sort of miss that. Food is a change as well. Not that food at a party is uncommon but in transition age you go from chips and salsa and a bag of Doritos to brie wheels, cheese and vegetables trays, stuffed mushrooms, and many other delicious treats. This is actually a substantial upgrade that I’m pretty excited about in the future.

About halfway through the party is when things started to get really odd. The host was walking around the party handing out little packets of paper. I thought this to be pretty odd until I got mine and realized it was sheet music with lyrical accompaniment to some beloved Christmas jams. Oh yes, that’s right, we were going to have Christmas carol sing-along time at this party. After all it is the most wonderful of the year and what better way to express ones joy than through the magic of song. I of course was pumped. Not oh this is going to be so festive and I love Christmas pumped, more like this has the potential to be one of the weirdest things ever and I can’t wait to see how it plays out pumped. I was right; it was totally weird and fairly surreal. It’s hard to describe but just imagine you walk into a party and 35 people are hanging out around the piano singing Rockin' Around This Christmas Tree like it was a totally normal, everyday occurrence. When did I step in to a very special episode of Full House I wonder? I of course loved every second of caroling. I have terrible voice but I really crack myself by pretending I don’t and getting really really into singing. That’s why I like sing power ballads at karaoke bars. So Dan, Matt, Jake, and I tried doing some xmas carol harmonizing, barbershop quartet style. It went well I think. I sort of wanted to go walk around the neighborhood and do some real caroling because I no how great it would be if I heard a knock on my door and opened it up to 10 or 15 drunk people singing Jingle Bells.

Just to hammer home that whole transition age thing here are some examples of my friends being immature and college-y:

- While the majority of guests arrived with a bottle of wine for the party, Dave and Jake brought a box of beer. And I don’t mean they bought a 30 pack at the liquor store, I mean the filled up a brown box from a package they got in the mail with whatever assorted beers they had in the fridge.

- One of the cheeses on the cheese tray was about the worst smelling thing ever. I am in no way exaggerating when I say that it smelled like a butthole. So Dave rubbed it all over his fingers and kept holding his hand up near people’s nose so that they thought he had poop on his hands.

- Matt got absolutely hammered on eggnog. That’s not that immature, I just thought it was worth mentioning, who drinks enough eggnog to get drunk, and how did he not vomit?

- And to totally counteract any sort of class that may have rubbed off on us at the party we went to a bar afterwards and played big booty the whole time. If you don’t know it’s a drinking game. It’s hard to explain, just know that it is extremely obnoxious and loud and probably not very cool to do in public at all.

Still got it.

*****Edit*****

I forgot to mention my favorite part of the party, Dan and Katie were pretending to be the Griswolds neighbors from Christmas Vacation.

What happened to the stereo Todd?
I don't know Margot

Fun with Craigslist

There is a guy at work selling his car on Cragilist. Brian found the ad without him knowing so obviously he created a pseudonym and spent the week emailing him progressively wierder and wierder questions regarding the car. Here are the results. Enjoy

Awww, Who Farted?

-I lack the overall comedic talent to express how truly hilarious this actually is, and I'm a little ashamed of that fact. I'm pretty sure she went with the "He who smelt it dealt it" defense before finally cracking under the pressure of FBI interrogators.

-Do you think Jim Hendry was hospitalized yesterday because he just realized he signed Ted Lilly to a $40 million contract. Paying a guy with a .500 career record and a 4.60 career ERA $10 mil. a year is enough to give anyone at least an anxiety attack or some sort of acid reflux.

Where's Ice Cube When You Need Him?

I’m always kind of scared to get my haircut somewhere I’ve never been before. I fear some sort of follicle disaster that will leave me looking like Nick Nolte or Edward Scissorhands. I recently moved so I can’t go to my old barbershop. It’s been over a month, which is entirely too long, and as Leslie so kindly put it I “look a mess” so I figured it was time to find a new place. While wondering around the new neighborhood recently I found a barbershop conveniently located about a few blocks away so I decided to give it a try. I was sort of hoping it would be like the movie because I think that would be an amazing for me. Unfortunately it wasn’t, just a very small barbershop, two chairs and two little Asian women cutting dudes hair. I had to wait for a few minutes so I started to peruse the magazine selection, that’s when I notice something was amiss. I’ve personally have never seen porn mixed in with the usual Maxim’s and Sports Illustrated’s of a normal barbershop. This sort of made me wonder if there weren’t some other more unsavory activities going on behind the scenes that I don’t know about. I was pretty skeptical but decided to press on. When it was my turn to step up I was super nervous. I sat down, got my little hair smock thing on and she just started going to town without even asking what I wanted. Although after a few snips she did say, “Short in back and sides?” and I said, “Um, I guess.” I’m not really an argumentative sort, and really I’m not terribly picky so I just went with it. The only problem being that she had me facing away from the mirror the whole time. Is there anything more unsettling than having a women flailing away at your head when you can’t even see what’s happening? Oh there is one thing; when they use the straight razor to shave your neck after they’re done cutting your hair. This is terrifying to me. First off I have a mole on the back of my neck and I’m always afraid it’s going to get lopped off, and I’m certain that thing would be a bleeder. Second, I always feel like my life is in this little Asian women’s hands at that point, one flick of the wrist and I’m totally assassinated. But I made it out alive so here is an anticlimactic ending to a bad story: the haircut turned out ok. It’s a little higher and tighter than normal but that’s fine, it’ll grow back in no time. For now, as a friend would put it, I’m baby hair Eric. Basically I look like an eleven year old who may or may not have been able to get a handjob after my haircut. Which is weird.

Me So Hungy

I don’t eat breakfast. Generally I’m at work within a half an hour of waking up in the morning. I’m all about maximizing my productivity, there is only so much time in the day and I can’t waste any of it on a bowl of Froot Loops or an omelet or something. I’m always go go go and eating breakfast would just be a drag on my overall efficiency. Most important meal of the day my ass, that’s what I say.

Ok all of that is total lie. The only reason I get to work early is so that I can leave earlier. And I don’t eat breakfast because I am just way to lazy for something like that. In fact the act of going to the store to buy something to make for breakfast is too much for me a lot of the time. I don’t think you can really say you’re maximizing your productivity when you usually spend an hour or two watching the Food Network and playing freecell after work everyday.

So yeah, anyway I don’t eat breakfast which always raises an interesting question for me. On the rare days when I do mix in a bagel or something why am I always absolutely starving by lunch time? Seriously, I’m never this hungry on a regular day. Is breakfast really just a warm up for the rest of the day? I think that my stomach is eating itself right now. I’m dying. Literally. I’m so hungry I feel like I might vomit (which by the way is another very interesting phenomenon, seems backwards). Basically I think breakfast is a total scam. I think that if started eating it regularly I would gain like 30 pounds in the first month. It makes sense, I eat breakfast, I’m starving, I eat a bigger lunch and dinner than normal, on top of the food I already ate for breakfast. I’d be such a fatass. Nice try breakfast but I’m on to you.

How Not To Act in a Hostile Situation

For lack of anything else to talk about here is a fun story about me a being pretend badass one night a year or so ago:

It was around 2:30 a.m., I had just gotten off the metro on my way home from work. The walk from the metro to my house was about a half mile. As I’m sure many of you know you, could live in the safest neighborhood in the world (which I certainly didn’t) and you still wouldn’t be super comfortable walking around it in the middle of the night. Unless you’re drunk of course, then it’s totally natural taking a 4 a.m. stroll through where ever. I didn’t have the benefit of my beer muscles so I was on the lookout for any sort of mischief. Maybe I’m just naturally paranoid, or maybe it was the fact the it was P.G. county, but every time a car passed me I was pretty sure I was getting jacked, I was always suspicious of the person walking towards me, but for the most part I made it home unscathed on a nightly basis so my paranoia was unfounded.

On this night as I was walking home I noticed 4 kids walking up ahead, approximately 15 to 17 years of age. So that natural suspicion kicks in again and I think to myself, 4 kids wandering the streets this late on a Tuesday cannot be up to anything I want to know about. With that I mind I decide I’m just going to lag behind until they pass my street where I can turn and go home. There seems to be a fundamental difference between a bunch of kids hanging out doing nothing and someone who spent the last 10 hours getting beers for drunk a holes, because they simply were not walking at an acceptable pace. Eventually I gave up on avoiding potential trouble and just passed them. That was my first mistake, remaining patient is a key to avoiding potential conflict. Here’s the conversation that ensued as I walked by and one the little pretend gangstas jumped in front of me:

Fake Thug: “Hey man, what’s up?”
Me: “Hey”
FT: “Don’t run away.”
Me: “I’m not, I’m walking home.”
FT: “What’s in your bag?”

I should mention that I had a bag slung across my shoulder carrying random things that like my iPod, a book, change of clothes, etc. I should also mention that I was a waiter at the time so I made all my money in tips. I would usually try and get to the bank every few days and deposit the cash so I didn’t spend it as quickly. That day was one of those days, only I had forgotten to stop at the bank so I had like $800-$1000 in my bag. There was no way I was letting these little dickheads take my bag.

Me: “Don’t worry about what’s in my bag.”
FT: “Motha fucka you see all these brotha’s behind you, you better give me your bag.” (Note: edited for content because I’m white and I’m pretty sure even if it’s in a quotation I’m still not allowed to use the word he really used.)
Me: “Dude, I’m not giving you my bag, just leave me alone.”

Right then one of the other kids grabbed my bag and tried to rip it off my shoulder, spinning me around in the process. The original FT used this opportunity to start sucker punching me from behind, which I thought was pretty weak but whatever (also he didn’t have much pop, he hit like a girl). As I’m wrestling with one guy for my bag and getting punched in the face by the other guy I can’t help but notice that the other to kids seem pretty nervous about the whole ordeal. This only helps in hard my resolve. I mean, how can I get robbed by someone whose heart isn’t even in it? If you’re going to commit a crime at least commit to it. So I throw a few elbows and eventually wrestled the two kids off of me. I guess me fighting back was a little unexpected because they gave up and started walking away. That should be the end of the story, but then you wouldn’t be factoring in my usual bad decision making skills.

Maybe I had a bad day at work, maybe it was the redhead in me kicking in but I was feeling a little feisty that night. I started taunting them. Probably not the best idea, but really, you just had an unsuccessful attempted robbery of a 140 lb. white kid, you deserve to be made fun of. In anyone found out you might even get kicked out of the ghetto. Anyway I may have called the one kid a “bitch” and said something to the effect of “why don’t you come over and try something without your boys backing you up.” He took this to heart apparently. The two more aggressive of the bunch turned back and started walking towards me.

One kid was threatening to stab me. I didn’t put much stock in this threat because he was wielding what appeared to be a broken coat hanger. The other guy said, “what did you say to me motherfucker?” (He had a bit of a potty mouth) To which my response was, “I said you are a bitch.” He got in my face and grabbed my shirt with both hands. That’s when I saw my opening; he dropped his guard, so I absolutely drilled him in the nuts. I mean right square in the balls. I know it’s kind of an unwritten rule that a dude doesn’t kick another dude in the junk but he wasn’t fighting fair so why should I. Anyway, he dropped in total agony. The other kid was few yards behind saw this, abandoned his stabbing threat, and took off running. The end.

So what did we learn from this whole trial? First thing is that I’m an idiot. Who narrowly avoids a complete ass beating and then taunts the people for not getting the job done? Second, I’m a badass. I didn’t think I had it in me but I was wrong, I am definitely badass.

I'm Going to Need Some Gold Bond and a Bottle of Lube STAT

As noted a few weeks ago I am currently in training to run a marathon in March. In high school I was a fairly avid runner, I ran both track and cross country, I wasn’t great but I won a race or two in my day. I continued running to stay in shape in college but after I stopped playing baseball sophomore year my output slowly tapered off to almost nothing by graduation. So basically I hadn’t run regularly in about 4 years when I started training. I’ve noticed a few subtle differences I feel should be pointed out.

First are the fairly obvious ones. Along with not running it’s been like a year and a half since I’ve been to the gym. This was a bad idea. Getting back in shape once you’ve stopped working out is a bitch. When I get in a rhythm of working out I love it, I feel like crap if I don’t. When I haven’t been exercising regularly I hate it, I find sitting on the couch watching the Food Network to be much more enjoyable than kicking my own ass at the gym. It hasn’t quite happened yet but I think I’m slowly getting to the point where I take pleasure in running again, so that’s exciting. Another obvious one is simply the difference between being 18 and 26. I hurt. My knees are all creaky, I’m sore in the morning, it all sucks. Frankly I’m kind of pissed about it. If I achieve only one thing through all the training it will be to stop hurting every time I do something physical.

There was a point in my life where I could run a 5k race in like 16 minutes in June and end up with barely more than a healthy glow. Now I run 3 miles in 50 degree weather and I’m sweating like Lindsey Lohan in a crystal meth lab. It’s disgusting. Seriously when did I turn into Patrick Ewing? It takes me a good half hour after a work out to stop sweating.

Chafing seems to be the most serious complication I’ve encountered thus far. When I graduated high school I was 5’10” and weighed about 125 pounds. If you didn’t know I ran 40 miles a week you’d think I was either anorexic or had a serious heroin addiction. Now I’m pushing 160, not exactly tipping the scales but it has an effect. The point is I never remembered my thighs touching when I ran before, but they do now. I made the mistake of wearing boxer briefs on a particularly long run and now I don’t have any hair on my inner thighs. Ok so I’d be lying if I didn’t say it feels kind of cool, but the process that made that happen hurt like hell and it’s something I hope not to recreate.

I pretty much went balls to the wall with this whole training deal without properly weighing the situation. There are a few unexpected obstacles to overcome.

I'm Thankful for Old People

I have a medium to possibly large family. Both of my parents have 4 siblings, many of whom have children of there own. With that many people, and given the amount of dysfunction and alcoholism associated with a lot of those people, you would think that the holiday season would provide endless hilarity. Me being one of the few sane ones (relatively speaking of course) I should just be able to sit back and enjoy while booze and bitterness lead to all sorts of wacky antics. You know, like a normal family. Unfortunately ( or fortunately depending on who you ask ) my clan seems to have a complete indifference to all things family. It's a near impossible feat to get more than 15 people in a room at once, and even then it's only for an hour or two. As a result Thanksgiving is usually a small affair, which sucks because I know that I'm am missing out on some truly great trainwrecks. I will try not to convey my dissappiontment while I share two notes on this years Thanksgiving that I found mildly amusing.

The holiday get togethers are mostly gotten together at either my parents house or an aunt's house in Williamsburg. This was a Williamsburg year. There is always one staple of a holiday meal at my aunt's house: the food never even comes close to approaching what one would deem an appropriate temperature for a meal. I have never had a hot meal there. I don't get it, is this how the eat every meal? I can't believe I have never contracted salmonella or some other sort of poisoning from under cooked food. Every year I try as discreetly as possible, so as not to offend the host, to microwave everything I have on my plate. This year the kitchen was to crowded and I felt to bad to do it. Nothing says Thanksgiving like a cool slab of turkey and lukewarm mashed potatos all smothered in ice cold gravy, mmm mmm.

My grandma is old. The kind of old where you have to basically have to scream at her to get her to understand anything you say. I imagine in her prime she was an outrageous gossip as well because she loves to talk about people behind their backs. However she has failed to realize that her extreme hearing loss also means she has lost the ability to whisper. Here is what she said this year as she was "whispering" about my sister's boyfriend at about 115 decibels: "Is Jessica's boyfriend Jewish? He looks like a jew." I pretty much lost it when I heard that from the other room, I live for that kind of stuff. Old people say the darnedest things.

Ugh

One of my good friends from college, Hotmetal, was in town last night from Philly via San Diego. He’s home for Thanksgiving and decided to drive down for the night to hang out. He is, and I mean this in the kindest most an endearing way possible, and idiot. The good kind of idiot, if that makes any sense, but an idiot none the less. Which I am sure you could glean from the totally inexplicable nickname Hotmetal. Here is a typical sort of conversation you tend to have with Hotmetal:

Hotmetal: Let’s get a round of car bombs.
Me: No I’m good, it’s a Tuesday, I have to work early tomorrow.
Hotmetal: Just one.
Me: No really, I’m all right.
Hotmetal: C’mon how often do we get to hang out anymore? Just do one.
Me: Fine dammit.

Or

Hotmetal: I bought these long island ice teas that I don’t really want, chug one.
Me: What makes you think I even want to drink that much less chug it?
Hotmetal: Just do it.
Me: No way.
Hotmetal: C’mon how often do we get to hang out anymore? Just chug it.
Me: Fine dammit.
Clearly I’m easily persuaded. Before you know it your whole “it’s a Tuesday I’ll just have a few beers” idea is shot and you’re in Chinatown at a karaoke bar at 2 in the morning singing “She’s Like the Wind” by Patrick Swayze (it doesn’t really matter what city you’re in, it’s always Chinatown). I say this as if I’m complaining but secretly I love it; but there is one fact I seem to neglect over and over again: at 26 I no longer have the ability to get absolutely shitfaced and close down a bar on Tuesday and wake up for work at 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday. I mean, technically I can wake up, but I’m a total waste of life right now. At least I managed to change my clothes this morning, unlike last time I tried this one.

Eric, You So Crazy

If anyone read this blog with any regularity than they probably would have picked up on the central theme of the whole thing: I’m kind of a dumbass. My friend Aaron constantly tells me that I should stop writing about how much I suck. For some reason he might be under the impression that I have low self-esteem, which really couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m actually a pretty big fan of myself. Some have said that I have a little of a big head. I don’t know if that’s true or not but there is one thing I know, I am awesome. But as awesome as I am I also have the proclivity to be a bit of a tard because I pay attention to almost nothing that goes on around me. I think the little anecdotes are amusing so I write the down in this blog on the off chance that someone else feels the same way. So it’s not low self esteem, I’m just a giver who wants to brighten the day of other with my total absentmindedness.

Having said all that here are the most recent examples of being not so awesome:

I moved about six weeks ago. I have acquired a depressingly small amount of personal objects in my 26 years, so the move was rather unorganized. Why bother with packing when you can just throw all your crap in the back of a van in 45 minutes and bounce. Since the temperature has dropped recently I’ve started wearing my dress coat to work. It’s a pretty standard 3 button, knee length, black Banana Republic coat. When I put it on I noticed the shoulders were a little broader, I thought this a little strange but just blamed it on not going to the gym in a while. This morning was particularly cold so I had to button up on my walk to work this morning. That’s when I realized that collar was all off, and the buttons seemed to low. I thought maybe it’s just losing shape or something from hanging in the closet for months. Then at lunch today Brian went ahead and confirmed that I had in fact taken his coat when I moved out and have been wearing it this whole time. Upon further the inspection they are completely different coats and anyone other than me would have picked up on this immediately. Well that and also in the pocket were receipts in Brian’s name from thing he bought last winter. I’m not sure why this didn’t raise any sort of red flags for me. I would be the worst detective ever.

Speaking of lunch today I pulled another classic Eric style boner. I am notorious for not finishing my food. I have a small appetite; my eyes are always bigger than my stomach. It’s gotten to the point where Morgan doesn’t order that much food because it is a guarantee that if she is still hungry I’ll have plenty left over to go around. Today I ate at a deli that I have never been to before. I ordered a club sandwich, a medium fry and a soda. I thought things seemed fishy the total came to $16, that’s a bit excessive for a sandwich. Then I get an absolute mountain of a sandwich. There was no way I was finishing it as is, but that’s before the fries came. Seriously, who fills up a 72 ounce bucket with French fries and then has the audacity to call it a medium. There was a comical amount of food on my tray, which in hindsight I totally could have seen coming if I had simply looked at the menu of the restaurant I had never been to before instead of just waltzing in and ordering like I owned the place. It’s always nice, during the holiday season, to throw away about 6 pounds of turkey when there are people starving outside

I Love My Job

When you spend most of your days wallowing in a cubicle dying a slow death you have to find ways to spice things up, make life a little more interesting. Be it putting your coworkers stapler in a Jell-O mold a la The Office (which by the way is much harder than you’d think, it took a lot of recipe experimentation), or covering someone’s entire cubicle in post it notes. Sometimes it can be organizing a flip cup game in the conference room. You haven’t played flip cup until you’ve played with a bunch of engineers in their 50’s that probably haven’t had fun in thirty years, they eat that stuff up, and it’s hilarious. Or say you have a brash young intern how is want to make bold proclamations like the ability to eat 50 Dunkin Donuts Munchkins in 5 minutes (or that he invented the question mark). When that scenario arises there is only one logical step that can follow: an eating contest in the break room. Brian, being a natural born instigator, lined up an opponent for the contest. The stakes were as follows: first one to finish pays for the others Munchkins, if it is done in less than 5 minutes the person gets and additional $20. Any reasonable person knows that this is not possible unless you are Kobayashi, which they are not, but it’s fun to make them think they have a chance and get everyone else in the office riled up in the process.

The contest did not get off to a great start for Ben, two munchkins in he admitted that it wasn’t happening, but he’s a soldier, he carried on. His two at a time technique got him off to an early lead. By the time the 5:00 minute mark comes around they’ve barely put a dent in the box, not even close to halfway. With the prize money out the window I have no idea why they kept going, but they did. Pride is a funny thing I guess. Over time Justin (the intern) started mounting his comeback, he was the tortoise to Ben’s hare. Ben tapped out at around 15 minutes with 14 donut holes left, a pretty piss poor effort if you ask me. Brian (once again, instigator) declared that Justin could only get his DD paid for if he finished the whole box, even though Ben already quit. 22 minutes and 45 Munchkins later Justin had finally had enough. Normally I would give him credit, it was a pretty impressive/disgusting effort, but when he claims that he can eat a whole box in 5 minutes he gets no props for eating most of a box in a half hour. Nice try pussy. Occasionally you can hear a little moan of stomach pain coming from his cubicle, I love it. Once again, another awesome day at the office.

Good One

Sometimes when I'm in the zone at work I listen to my iPod. That way people know I mean business and won't bother me. So I'm listening this morning on random and up pops some music that I didn't know I had. I admittedly have an eclectic taste in music, I have almost all genres of music on the iPod, hip hop, pop, r&b, alternative, country, whatever, you name it I've got it. Having said that there is one genre I definitely don't have, classical, so how in the hell did Beethoven's 9th Symphony get on my iPod. Either I really missed the mark on some of my music downloading or someone is playing a really weird prank on me.

Side Note: It was pretty good, I might have to get some more classical music, it helps me concentrate and I feel smart when I listen to it.

An Offer I Really Wish I Could Refuse

Boss: “So I was going through everything that needs to be done on this project in the next 6 weeks to meet our deadline.”
Me: “Ok.”
Boss: “Well we have about 1,000 hours left in the budget, that’s about 5 people full time until the end of the year, I don’t think we will end up needing all of those hours, but there is a lot of work to be done.”
Me: “Well that’s good, always nice finishing with room to spare.”
Boss: “Yeah, well we have the budget for 5 people but as of now you’re the only one available to work on it.”
Me: “Hmmmm.”
Me in my head: Son of bitch I know what’s coming next. Don’t say it, don’t say it don’t say it.
Boss: “So if you wanted to, you can start putting in 10 or 11 hours day.”
Me in my head: Shit he said it.
Me: “All right, I’ll see what I can do.

I hate when it’s phrased like that. Oh what a generous offer, I would absolutely love wallow away in my cubicle for an extra three hours a day. It sounds like it would absolutely suck but really is there anything more fulfilling than a job well done. Actually I can think of several things, like happy hour. There worst part is that I can’t say no. I’m a real go getter with upper management written all over me, it would be hard to keep up appearances by not working a few extra hours a week when things need to get done. Plus he’s totally calling my bluff, it’s not like I have anything more important to do. My commute to work consists of an 8 minute walk down the street, so basically working an extra few hours at worst means I’m going to miss an episode of 30 Minute Meals, or Scrubs if I have to work real late. Well that and my life sucking just that much more. And actually it is the holiday say so making a few extra hundos a week isn’t a bad proposition.

Dammit, it actually is a good offer, and I’m really pissed that I somehow developed that mindset. Today I officially became old.

A Heart to Heart With My Blog

Oh blog, when you totally disappeared last Thursday I was left very confused. My friends kept saying, “I tried to read your blog today and it was gone, what happened?” I had no idea, you just up and vanished. At first I though maybe it was a problem with Blogger, I checked a few other blogs and saw that they were all in complete working order. That’s when I got angry, how dare you leave without even the courtesy of an Error 404 message. I thought we had something good going. After a while I started to blame myself, maybe it was something I said, or I didn’t write well enough for you and you’d moved on, or maybe you were angry with my lack of html skills that left you with just a plain old default template. But it wasn’t that was it, you knew what you were doing all along.

You’re so smart blog, you always know all the right strings to pull in this relationship. I think you just realized that things were moving a little to fast between the two of us and you decided to take a step back. You inexplicably departed for over three days to give me my space (but not MySpace, I didn’t cheat on you with that other blog while you were gone). I needed some time to work on me, to decided where we were heading on this blogging journey, you knew that even before I did, you’re so awesome. I totally got all introspective and I think I got it figured out. But I don’t need to tell you the conclusions I came to do I? You’ve known all along?. Its good to have you back buddy, I missed you.

I'll take "The Penis Mightier" for $400 please Alex

I have an absolute wealth of useless knowledge. I am an expert on nothing but I know a little bit about a lot of things. You know those irritating people who like to chime in with some worthless fact no matter what the conversation is? That’s me! I take a strange sort of pride in it, there’s a tiny little superior feeling I get out of knowing these things. I like learning also. For example, remember like two years ago when that movie Alexander came out, I watched that movie and decided that I needed to read a few biographies on him. I decided this not because I found the subject interesting (although it turns out to be fascinating), but because I didn’t really like the idea of Colin Farrell knowing more about something than me. Unless of course it’s how to look smoldering, or cursing, that guy can toss F bombs around with the best of ‘em. I realize that this makes me appear a little smug and pretentious, I promise I’m not. Or maybe I am sort of a prick, who knows, I hope not.

Basically the point is I know a lot of random crap, and revel in that knowledge, so there is really only one outlet where the useless becomes useful: Jeopardy! I love Jeopardy. I have been trying to get on it for years. I’m 100% convinced I would kick ass on the show but all my attempts have been rejected. I tried Teen Jeopardy!, College Jeopardy!, and regular Jeopardy all to no avail. Apparently the process is to take an online test and there is then a random drawing of names from those who passed to come take an interview. I have never made it to the interview process and now believe that it was all a scam perpetrated by that a-hole Alex Trebek just to get my email address to send me stupid spam emails about Jeopardy! goings on that I don’t care about (actually the fact that I didn’t see that one coming makes me feel sort of stupid and think maybe I wouldn’t do so hot on the show). Every couple of weeks I get an email and every time I feel a little twinge of excitement thinking I’m finally getting the call to the show. Every time I’m disappointed. I got one today to let me know that Celebrity Jeopardy! is coming this week with such magnificent stars as Regis Philbin, Susan Lucci, and Curt Schilling. I hate Curt Schilling, I don’t care if he’s making an appearance, when do I get my shot? Hell I’ll donate my winnings to charity like those lame celebrities as long as I get to beat up on some people on a quiz show. Ok my I’d donate half of my winnings, or none of them, but you get my point.

I’ve been spurned one too many times Trebek. If I ever make that dream true I plan on treating him like Sean Connory in those SNL skits. He’s earned it.

Dang it

So I’m mildly bitter this morning, and let me tell you why. I first started this blog about four months ago mainly as a way of amusing myself and my friends and killing a little time at work. Eventually I realized that a better way of killing that time was to read the blogs of others who write much better than me. One the first (and subsequently one of my favorites) that I started reading was Steph. Basically it’s a log of all the retarded acts performed by her and her friends. She is definitely funnier than me, and also Australian, therefore has an infinitely more popular blog. Every Wednesday she likes to link to a blog that she finds entertaining, I received the honor today.

As a result of her link my traffic has jumped about 300% in the last day. People from 14 different countries have perused my incoherent ramblings. So what am I bitter about you ask? My last post is about damn Eric Roberts. Most people don’t even know who the hell he is. It seems unlikely to hook people in is what I’m saying. So now I have people from Tunisia checking in to my blog to read about a damn Akon video. Son of a bitch. Why couldn’t it have been the day when I wrote something that amuses someone other than Brian? Of course that suggesting I ever write something funny, which is debatable. I guess I’ll just have to bask in my one or two days of glory where I few hundred people read this trash and then go back trying to writing for my 20 friends who feel obligated to check this out.

Smack That

So last night I’m watching Sucka Free on MTV2, because I hate sucka’s so I can relate to that type of programming, when a video comes on by Akon f. Eminem. Akon rolls up to the club in his Lamborghini Gallardo. I’m expecting him to pop out alone, or perhaps with some sort of bodyguard or member of a posse or entourage, but oh no, he’s got someone else riding shotgun with him tonight. Who is it you ask? Well it’s none other than the black sheep of the Roberts family, Mr. Eric Roberts. What? I don’t get this. This is not the first video that he’s made a guest appearance in these last few months. Did I miss a memo or something; is Eric Roberts cool all of a sudden? I was always under the impression that he was, in fact, not cool. Don’t get me wrong, Best of the Best kicks ass but that was like 17 years ago. Now all of a sudden it’s cool to have him in hip hop videos. How did this happen? When you’re sitting around thinking up concepts for videos who was the first person that said, “Yeah, I like where this is going, but you know what we really need to push it over the top, Eric Roberts.” I mean I totally understand where ERob is coming from. It’s not like he has been cranking out the blockbusters over the years. Wait, so you’re saying all I have to do is drink some Crystal, objectify a few women and get paid, and I don’t even have to talk? Where do I sign? But what’s in it for the artist? I feel like I can think of hundreds of people I’d rather have in my music video. This is just another example of me having no clue what is cool or why.

Mission: Impossible

As I’m sure I have discussed before I have an ongoing bet with Matt and Jake as to whether I am capable of running a marathon in 3 ½ hours. Well this week marks the beginning of my 20 week training period in preparation for the marathon I hope to run in March. Since I like things to have titles and themes I’ve giving my marathon training a name; I’m calling it: Operation: F U Jake and Matt. I think it has a nice ring, don’t you? Here’s what is on tap for the week:

Monday – Easy 3 miles (60-90 seconds slower per mile than marathon pace)
Tuesday – 4 x 800m
Wednesday – Easy 4 miles
Thursday – 20 min. tempo run (15-30 seconds faster than marathon pace)
Friday – Rest (convenient timing on my part I think)
Saturday – Long 8 miles
Sunday – Cross Training

It’s a slow start but I anticipate a long and difficult road ahead. Luckily I have a secret weapon, hatred. Whenever I find that I don’t have the energy to run all I have to do is think of how insanely bad I want to dominate Matt and Jake to get me up off the couch. When I’m outside running and its 25 degrees in January I’ll have my searing, white hot, passionate anger to keep me warm. When I can’t possibly put one foot in front of the other all I have to do is think of Jake’s quote from a few weeks ago, “Eric, I’m 99.5% sure you can’t do it in under 3:30,” and I will be pushed forward for a few more miles. So thank you guys, there is no way I’ll ever pull this off without you’re astounding lack of support, and I appreciate you guys for that. I hate you guys and you suck and my desire to say F U Jake and Matt will propel me to great heights.

PS I’m setting the over/under date for my first serious injury at December 13th, any takers?

PPS I don’t really hate you guys, but you do in fact suck

PPPS There is no way using that many colons in one paragraph is grammatically correct

John, John, John. We need to talk.

I’m not a very political person. Sure I have opinions, but I don’t really have the energy, passion, or overall knowledge to argue with the types of people who take this stuff seriously (there's a good chance I'm not smart enough either). And for the most part the opinions of that sort are unchangeable anyway. For that reason I try to never write about politics in my blog (because no one wants to read it I’m sure) but then this happened:

"Education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your
homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. And
if you don't, you get stuck in Iraq." – John Kerry

Really John Kerry, you had to break that one out now? You couldn’t wait, like say, a week to say something that dumb? Everything was going so well and now you’re trying to ruin it again. Sure I know it was a joke. Most people of reasonable intelligence get that it was a joke but come on, you know how tricky those republicans can be. Sure making totally benign joke is nothing compared to say tax fraud, bribing public officials, or making sexual advances at 16 year old pages but before you know it the GOP will have everyone forgetting names like Frist, Abramoff, or Foley all because you don’t support the troops. God help you if you don’t support the troops. I mean, sure W can make jokes at correspondence dinners about these sorts of things but everyone knows he supports the troops; he’s the one who sent them there. Even if I were to give you the benefit of the doubt; let’s you purposely made that little botch as a way to bring up the topic of the incredible hypocrisy of the administration when it relates to this issue I’m taking that benefit back. Why am I taking it back? Because of a lesson my dad taught me a long time ago. He always used to say that a good 80% of America is just really stupid. That means you have to be careful of the things you say. They don’t get nuance, they don’t get that all you did was butcher a joke aimed at the president, not the troops. Republicans realized this a long time ago and that is why you have to be careful. They are excellent at making huge issues out of smalls one to deflect from what really matters, and they come up with some really kick ass catch phrases that they like to hammer home. Americans love catch phrases and it’s a really safe bet to say that you gave them material for some great ones.

Besides even if you totally nailed the joke it wasn’t exactly a zinger. So please, just stop talking ‘til next Wednesday, America thanks you in advance.

Dear Entire Office,

As you have all probably noticed I'm in the unfortunate position of having the cubicle closest to the restroom. It is bad enough as is with the smells and you all are only making it worse. There is a garbage can in the bathroom, I would be enternally greatful if you would all cease and desist from using my waste basket to despose of you're wet paper towels. It's sort of rude and completely grosses me out. I appreciate your immediate attention to this concern.

Thank You,

Eric

CVS Lady

When I go to CVS and I buy $9.02 worth of products and only have a $10 you really can't hook me up with the 2 cents and just give me a dollar back? Is it really going to kill the bottom line to spare 2 cents? You seemed so nice when I came up to the counter and you smiled and asked me if I found everything ok. I thought this was going to be a very pleasant transaction then I'd be on my way but you had to go and mess everything up didn't you CVS lady. You didn't even have a take a penny, leave a penny tray that I could use, I would left some pennies next time I came. But no, now I'm walking home with 98 cents clanging around in my pocket wondering if things will ever be the same between me and you CVS lady. I hope you're happy.

And I Don't Have To Take It

I'm pretty sure I got sexually harassed at work today. And not the good kind like in Disclosure where my really hot boss forces me to have sex with her against my will. This was from a guy. I guess sexual harassment is a bit of a harsh term for, it's not like he is making advances at me or anything, he just makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable whenever he's around. He always comes over to my cubicle, puts both hands on the back of my chair, and hovers over top of me looking at my computer all sleazylike. Then he will sit on my desk awkwardly close to me and ask weird questions about dancing or something equally cringe worthy. It seems very benign but for some reason it makes me shudder a little bit. I'm just dreading the day when I get an unsolicited shoulder massage.

The thing about it is that I'm not the least bit homophobic. I worked in a restaurant for a couple years after college and had a gay boss who openly flirted with me. Hardly a day went by when he didn't make an overtly sexual remark or proposition me and it didn't bother me at all, in fact it was funny, it turned into a running joke. Actually it was kind of flattering. Some people just give off a much creepier vibe.

He's not even gay (which makes the previous paragraph completely unnecessary but whatever). Well he may be, he just doesn't know it yet. He is from India and once said that the concept of homosexuality was completely foreign to him until he came to America for school. Also in India, according to him, it's totally normal to walk around with your arm around a buddy. This sort of seemed like p.d.a. to me (well that or like one of the old Mentos commercials). Another coworker decided to investigate that claim a little further so we asked some of the other Indian folks at work(there are quite a few). Not only did they refute that claim, they said homosexuality is not at all an alien idea in the home country. He named an apparently very famous and openly gay actor to which the other incredulously replied, "He's gay?"

Maybe I am homophobic and don't even realize. Maybe my former bosses' sexual overtures didn't bother me because they were so outward that a joke could be made out of it and I'm more distressed now because I don't know if it's gay or not and the fact that it might be is what weirds me out. I'm not really sure but either way I wish he would stop sitting on my damn desk because it gives me the willies.

Cupcakes

Is there anything worse only having one dollar, that is to wrinkled to go in the vending machine when it's 7:30 in the morning and all you want are some damn cupcakes? The answer to that question is yes, there are literally thousands of the things worse than that. Geez, get some perspective on life and stop being so self-absorbed.

Stone Age

I lost my cell phone this weekend. I feel naked. I know it was only a short time ago when I knew how to get by without one but it feels like eons. I got my first cell the summer before my junior year of college and in the following six years the ability to communicate with people without one has been erased from my memory. I haven't had a house phone in a few years. It's gotten to the point where I now get sort of confused by my office phone. And I haven't memorize a phone number in years thanks to that handy phonebook in your cell phone that does it for you. I'm pretty sure the brain cells that used to perform this function are either dead or used up with Anchorman and Wedding Crashers quotes, so at least I put them to good use. I have no idea how to get in touch with my parents. The ability to use new fangled technology like email seems to have eluded them thus far so who knows if I'll ever talk to them again. There is a Sprint store on the ground floor of my office building so I'll probably get a new phone in the next day or two, but I kind of want to see how long I can go without one. You know, rough it for a while. I wonder how many people would think I died or hate them because I haven't talked to them in so long.

Fooooooood Fight

As discussed in my last post I sustained a wrist injury playing football Saturday afternoon but instead of seeking medical attention I decided instead to go out for the night since it was CUA’s homecoming. The whole night I was worried that I would end up in a fight, which would suck because I couldn’t throw a punch with my right hand and would therefore get my ass kicked (I would get my ass kicked anyways but this would’ve been an extra special beat down). This fear was totally irrational because I’m kind of pussy and have never been in a fight. Sure I’ve developed some beer muscles from time to time and gone all meathead on someone and started a shoving match but it’s never dissolved into fisticuffs. My friends don’t get in many fights either, with the exception of Val but he seemed to be under control this particular evening. I knew it was unlikely that anything would happen, but I still had that fear. Shocker, Werle started a fight. Here’s how things went down:

We managed to make it until last call without incident, I’ll attribute this to the celebratory atmosphere, no one gets in a fight when you’re having a great time. Upon leaving the bar for the night me and Werle walked over to Pizza Bolis for a slice because when you’re leaving Johnny K’s, the worst bar in America, you experience isn’t complete until you’ve eaten some disgusting, super dry pizza. Being a generous guy Werle buys a few slices for the group and we head back towards the bar to find everyone. Sobo, who was straggling, is a little upset that there wasn’t enough for him so he goes over to Bolis as we start towards the cars. Right before we round the corner Sobo comes running by Mike and me with some pizza and yells, “I just stole some kid’s pizza, let’s go.” Shortly thereafter comes the kid in question chasing him.

Apparently the line was pretty long and Sobo was feeling the pressure to get some pizza quickly so he didn’t make everyone wait. This guy had already gotten a couple slices but was still loitering in the store taunting everyone (I say store but it’s approximately 9 square feet, so once you get your pizza you get the hell out of the way). Sobo took offense to this and decided to take action. Apparently this conversation pushed him over the top:

Sobo: I think I can get that kid’s pizza.
Random Guy: You should definitely do that.
Sobo: I’m going for it.

Yoink. Slice snatched, Sobo runs.

The guy obviously didn’t get a good look at the culprit because he turned the corner, saw Werle eating the pizza he bought earlier, and got in his face. Werle has no idea what’s going on so a shouting match ensues (I had the unique perspective of being the only one who really knew what had happened so I was pretty excited to see how this played out). Then the kid made his first wrong move, knocking the slice of out Werle’s hand. I don’t think Werle really wanted to throw down but the guy is totally insistent on the fact that he took his slice so he won’t give it up, wrong move #2. Then Sobo comes back and goes mafia on him. He confesses to stealing the pizza with a really smartalecky smile on his face as if to say, I did it what do you plan on doing about it. At this point I should also mention that Sobo and Werle both about 6’-3”/6’-4” and not skinny and that the pizza guy is about 5’7”, not really fair odds but he was feisty.

So after Sobo’s confession Werle demands an apology from the gentleman for the assault on his character like he’s totally innocent because it was only his friend that took it, not him. He refuses to apologize and starts shoving people, wrong move #3, so Werle punched him in the face. Me and Marc had been in the background enjoying being sober enough to watch this total disaster of drunkenness but once a punch was thrown Marc stepped in to break things up and move everyone along before anything got out of hand.

In summation this poor kid had his slice of pizza stolen, was forced to apologize for have his pizza stolen, and then punched in the face for not apologizing. And he didn’t even have any friends around to get his back. I felt pretty bad for him actually, I probably would’ve broken things up much earlier but I really didn’t think Werle would hit him, my bad. My friends are idiots.



P.S. I really wanted to title this post “Boy, that escalated quickly…” because it is very apropos and Anchorman is awesome but the son of a bitch Bill Simmons used the same title for his column yesterday thus ruining everything.

Homecoming

This weekend was my alma maters homecoming weekend. Since I like to live my life in a bygone era, reminiscing on past glories it's usually a pretty big time of year for me. Mike described it as his favorite weekend of the year; I wouldn't quite go that far but I do look forward to meeting up with all the friends I only get to once or twice a year and acting like the jackasses we were in college. I won't bother regaling you with all havoc caused because while it was very enjoyable and exceeded all expectations I imagine it would translate to something super boring to most people. I'll just outline my very loose agenda for the weekend and take it from there. Here was the plan:

Friday: Down to D.C. after work, head over to Irish Times to meet up with everyone.
Saturday: Alumni baseball game in the morning
Jump back up to Baltimore for a flag football game at 4:00
Banquet to celebrate the baseball coaches 20th year at CUA at 7:00
Out to the bars afterwards.

Now I,ve talked several times in this blog about Eric Syndrome ( it's when I do something stupid to ruin a good time), and of course it came into play again. I love playing in my flag football team, mostly because it's an oppurtunity to get out and run around and our team is awesome and I enjoy beating people, but I debated whether I should bother driving an hour both ways for a 45 minute game. Especially considering the team we were playing was 0-3 and it was an almost garuanteed victory. I decided to head up because, like I just said, I love playing and we only have 8 games until the playoffs start. Shocker, that was the wrong decision. Late in our 30 point blowout victory I caught a pass and the guy covering me decided instead of flag football we'd be playing tackle for that play. Now to be prefectly honest with you, I'm kind of a pussy, I don't take a hit very well, and this time was no exception. I fall awkwardly on my wrist. I kept playing and didn't really notice anything until I took my gloves off after the game. That's when I observe a strange protusion on my hand, at the base of the wrist, that looks oddly like a bone sticking out where it's not suppossed to be. I decided that it was homecoming and I didn't have time for dislocated or broken bones so I just iced it and carried on with the rest of the night.

I've gained a new respect for amputees after this experience. My hand and wrist were terribly swollen rendering my right arm pretty much useless. Saturday night I was hanging out with a friend of mine in medical school who determined that nothing was broken so it wasn't necessary for me to run to the doctor right away, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. I realized I might be the least ambidextrous person in the history of the world, I do almost everything with my right hand. I was pathetic, with the combination of me whining about how much my arm hurt and having to get everyone to do stuff for me. It took me a good 5 minutes to unlock my door after fumbling around with me keys lefthanded. I could barely shower. And just for fun try unbuttoning your pants to pee with one hand, it's not easy. Neither is putting a shirt on. I didn't even bother eating any food that was a sandwich just to avoid having to stab at my food like the sloppy, fat kid in third grade. Luckily I wipe my ass left-handed, so I didn't have to walk around with dingleberries all weekend.

I do have one particularly kick ass story from the weekend that needs to be shared with the group, stayed tuned for that.

A How To Guide from Eric

I do a lot of dumb things. The majority of them very benign, but dumb none the less. I’m very absentminded, add that to just not be very smart overall, and you find yourself in odd situations. I have accrued much wisdom from being a dumbass (I know that sort of and oxymoron, a wise dumbass, but that’s me) and I feel as though it would be selfish of me not to pass some of it along, so I will. So without further ado:

How to take a shower without a shower curtain because you forgot to bring it when you moved

The first thing to take into account is that the curtain tends to close off the shower area from the rest of the bathroom, effectively trapping in heat. You won’t get this effect without it so turn the water up a little hotter than normal so you aren’t freezing your balls off. Secondly is the angle of the shower head. You’re going to have the urge to angle the shower head as far away from the open side as possible. Resist this urge; the ricochet from the wall will cause as many problems as anything else. You want to adjust the shower head so that it’s angled towards the middle to bottom half of the wall, that way any splash back is contained inside the tub. Next you want to stay out of the stream of water whenever possible, do all lathering out of harms way, the less splatter from the body the better. When do find that it’s time to get into the stream use your body as a buffer, keep yourself between the water and the rest of the bathroom. Put an extra towel or bathmat right up against the edge of the shower, picking up a wet towel is a lot easier than mopping up soapy water. I would also recommend moving any magazines you were reading whilst pooping away from the splash zone (unless it’s that issue of GQ with Josh Hartnett on the cover, he sucks and deserves to get wet, you’re probably a better actor than him anyway). Last but not least, have fun, take advantage of this opportunity, pee in the toilet from inside the shower as opposed to peeing in the shower like you normally do, admire your excellent physique in the bathroom mirror while lathering, go crazy, the world is your oyster, enjoy it.

Moving

Moving is the worst. I hate it. I don’t even have a lot of stuff and I still hate it. There are a multitude of reasons why moving sucks, let me just throw a few out there.

Packing. Everyone begins a move with the intention of being as organized as possible. If we just pack everything neatly in well labeled boxes based on room designation and so forth then it will make everything from loading and unloading the truck to unpacking a great deal easier. Inevitably half way through you say screw it and just start throwing things in garbage bags and it turns in to a complete shit show.

Asking people to help you move. “Moving is the worst. I hate it.” That is a quote from myself two paragraphs up, it a safe bet to say that most people share my sentiments. So when people ask you to help them move it’s takes everything you have to not “accidentally” take a tumble down a flight of stairs just to get out of helping. Knowing how much I hate moving makes me feel like an asshole when I ask other people help me move. I know they’re thinking, I hate moving my own stuff, why the hell would I want to help you move yours.

Without fail something goes wrong. For example the guy at U-Haul acting super shady about renting me a van causing me to have to move over the course of two days instead of getting it all done in one. I find it very hard to believe that all your vans are all reserved at 11 a.m. on a Sunday afternoon. I see like 10 trucks back there. Don’t think I don’t know you’re lying to me. Just two weeks ago Brian went, sans reservation, and got a van no problem. I’m pretty sure that was Friday evening. You’re going to sit there, owning a U-Haul, and tell me all the vans aren’t reserved at prime moving time (the start of the weekend) but at the worst time (the end of the weekend) they are reserved? Apparently he just didn’t like the look of me. I did find a lot amusement in the irony of the Arab U-Haul guy being suspicious of the preppy white kid in his store. I felt a little discriminated against, it was weird.

Unpacking. I abhor unpacking even more than packing. I’m incredibly lazy, and after spending half the day packing the last thing I want to do is put it all away. It ends up that every time I move my stuff sits in boxes for weeks and some things never even get unpacked. The worst though is hooking up all my crap. I’m sort of electronics nerd, but I despise reconnecting everything once I’ve undone it. There are so many damn wires everywhere I just don’t even want to deal with the mess. The last time I moved it took me about 8 months just to hook up the dvd player in my bedroom, and I only did it because I had just gotten Tivo so I was already back there. It may be weeks before I have the internet at home this time.

I think the next time I move it will be because I finally bought my own house and when I do that I’m buying all new stuff, having it delivered and never leaving again.

Sometimes I'm Glad I'm Not On TV...

…because if I were then every time I said something dumb it would be broadcast nationwide, and that would not be cool. Here’s a quote from Brad last night on Survivor:

“In situations like these I just like to go with my gut. 95% of the
time my gut is always right.”

Really? 95% of the time it’s always right? That doesn’t make any sense Brad. Now I’ll admit that’s only mildly retarded. On scale of 1 to 10 that was only kind of dumb. See I just said something stupid but at least 15 million people didn’t hear it.

Speaking of dumb, The Bachelor premiered this week. Without further ado, Erica:

“I flew coach to get here. I’ve never done the before so you should
be really flattered.”

When trying to win a television contest for a husband is spoiled and pampered really the first impression you want to make. Granted she lists her job as “socialite” so you can’t really expect much from her. That and she went on TV to find a husband.

Then there’s the king of saying dumb things on TV, our fine president W. In an interview with Wolf Blitzer (who kind of sucks but has a kick ass name) he said that the war in Iraq would be seen as “just a comma” in the history picks. I’m not super political so I won’t get to into this whole issue but do you really want to come of so callous about something were thousands of people have died. It doesn’t matter the intent of the comment, even if it was misinterpreted you set yourself up to be misinterpreted by saying dumbass things, so watch what you’re saying. I mean, doesn’t this guy have speech writers for this kind of thing? Who ever had the idea to let him ad-lib probably needs to be let go (although he’s said it in multiple speeches, implying that someone actually wrote that down for him to say, which makes me sad).

By the way, Brad followed up his earlier quote by saying, “it’s made with real bits of panther, so you know its good.”

RV there yet? (an incredibly long, and more than likely incredibly boring, post about my exploits from last weekend)

This weekend was RV Trip 2006. For those of you who don’t know our friend Jake went to The Pennsylvania State University so every year he likes to organize a trip up to State College, PA to enjoy a weekend of football, food, and friends. And booze, lots of booze. In fact I would say that is the most important factor for many on the trip but it didn’t work well with my alliteration. Penn State has an excellent tailgating tradition; they are ranked very highly by people who create polls that rank things like top tailgating schools. I’m sure Jake knows the exact numbers on this but I just don’t care enough to look them up for this blog. Since it’s and entire weekend affair most people, ourselves included, rent recreational vehicles for the trip. It’s actual a very odd and somewhat surreal scene, hundreds of RVs parked in a field outside a football stadium. It’s like someone’s white trash, campground nightmare, only awesomer. Here is a brief and completely inaccurate timeline of the trip (and I’ll probably lose the timeline format very early on because things get a little hazy after a while):

Friday:

11:40 - Mike, Brian, and myself ride up together. The plan was to meet at The Historic Round Barn Farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania at 11. Naturally we were late, and naturally we are the first ones there, with the exception of Jake and Iceguy, but that is only because they were picking up the RV’s. Although it sounds like we were making a tourist stop on the way to the game we weren’t. Jake’s family actually lives on The Round Barn Farm. We did take some time to pick some apples and eat them, check out the petting zoo, and walk around the round barn. It’s very round. Also there was a field trip of elementary school kids there that day. It was pointed out to me that as I was snapping that picture of a group of 7 year old that I probably looked pretty creepy but I needed to document the fact that people actually take field trips to Jakes house.

12:30ish – Stopped at Sheetz to pick up some final supplies and grab something to eat (the final supplies consisting of about 20 more Red Bulls and some batteries). This is where this conversation occurred:

Brent: You guys start drinking yet? (referring to the group in the other RV)
Mike: Yeah. You?
Brent: I cracked one open before we left the Round Barn.

For the record that’s when I this was going to be good.

After this we got stuck in traffic, there was an accident and we weren’t moving. Some crazy girl then started bothering us to use our mobile bathroom. We said no because you just can’t take the risk that this girl may poop in the bathroom effectively ruining the weekend (Rule No. 1 of RVs: No deuce in the toilet). Anyway she kept wondering around for some reason, this is a picture of her falling of the traffic barrier.

2:00 or so – Arrive at Penn State, park RVs, set up tents, start playing Baggo. Baggo is without a doubt the greatest tailgating/beach/bbq game ever and me and Brian have come together to form an almost unstoppable team that I like to talk a lot of trash about which will later come back to haunt me.

The next few hours: Just a lot of drinking and Baggo. Highlighted by Iceguy playing the all 80’s playlist from his Ipod on the boombox while frantically pounding beer and Red Bull in order to make up for lost drinking time while driving (which later results in a whole lot of him talking way louder than everyone else and yelling at us about how awesome the music is).

7:00 – Eat the delicious Kabobs Jake prepared for dinner that night. This is only noteworthy because everyone was starving at this point, so much so that Brent tried to eat and uncooked Kabob and gnawed on a piece of raw chicken for a good 15-20 seconds before I informed him that it wasn’t cooked he it was probably a bad idea.

9:30 – The beer pong tournament is winding down, I believe Leanne and Dave won, so I try to sneak off to bed because 10 hours of drinking has wiped me out. Some people catch wind of this and I get taunted mercilessly in the form of a chant calling me a pussy so I get up and join the flip cup tournament.

11:30 – Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey (the greatest band ever) comes on Iceguy’s 80’s mix. I think the consensus among the group is the most of the other tailgater’s have stop believin’ so the 10 of us choose to sing the entire song to remind them not to stop. Jake is in the bathroom at the point (aka the row of Port O’ Potties a couple hundred feet away). When he comes back he say, “not only are you guys by far the loudest ones here, I think we’re the only ones awake.” Awesome, still got it.

Soon after this is bedtime. A word of advice, when packing for a trip up in the mountains, in the fall, remember a blanket, they’re not standard in RVs. In doing so you can avoid the worst night of sleep of your life. Needless to say it was cold.

Saturday:

8:00 – Wake up way to early because it’s to cold and uncomfortable not to be awake. Toast a bagel (and by toasting I mean grilling, sounds strange but is surprisingly effective), start playing Baggo again. This is when the dominance of Brian and Eric comes to and end. Jake is playing out of his mind, scoring on nearly every toss, sinking all 4 shots in the hole (which by rule means the opponents have to shotgun a beer), he even made one with his eyes closed. It was the game of his life, out of nowhere he turned into Michael Jordan in the ’92 Finals against the Trailblazers, it was incredible.

9:30 – 2:00 – Drinking games and lunch. It’s been a really long time since I was drunk by mid morning. I miss college.

Another word of advice: two things that don’t mix, chugging beer and eating several hot dogs and cheeseburgers. This scenario played out beautifully after Aaron ate lunch then promptly lost two straight games of 99, having to chug 3 beers in a span of about 4 minutes (All mostly because Dave was purposely losing so that Aaron would have to chug more, I think he wanted to see him throw up). I don’t think the results turned out very pretty.

3:00 – Time to go to the game, Penn State vs. Northwestern, I couldn’t be more excited! Or the exact opposite, mostly because it was raining and who wants to go watch a blowout with to teams you don’t care about when you don’t really love college football. I don’t so me, Brian, and Mike sold our tickets and stayed back while everyone else went to the game. I think some people were jealous.

6:30 – Everyone came back from the game for more eating and drinking. It’s always an interesting day when you can get drunk, stop drinking long enough to sober up, and then still have enough time in the day to get drunk again. Once again, I miss college. The rest of the night trailed off into a bit of boredom. So much so that Aaron set his poncho on fire, no one really found this entertaining but Aaron, and he was absolutely mesmerized.

Then the clear highlight of the trip happened; a level of immaturity rarely reached by a group of 25-27 old adults. That’s right; Brian lit one of Mike’s farts on fire. I was always under the impression that this was an urban myth, that it couldn’t actually be done, but I was wrong. It apparently produces a puff of blue flame, and singes the butt cheeks (which Brent found particularly hilarious). The worst part of this is that I wasn’t there to see it; only three people witnessed this miraculous feat. This may go down as one of the biggest regrets of my life. But apparently it was funny; I’ve never seen 3 people laugh this hard, so much so that I couldn’t control my laughter. I thought I might throw up from laughing so hard at other people laughing at something I didn’t even see. We spent the rest of the night trying to recreate this magic. One time Mike went to off to the bathroom only to come sprinting out of nowhere yelling, “Get ready, I’m not kidding” and pulling his pants down only to blow out the flame with his flatulence.

Sunday:

6:30 – The carbon monoxide detector went of in our RV. I was willing to ignore it and go back to sleep, because I was exhausted, until Mike (who is a few months away from his PhD in chemistry and has, I’m pretty sure, been poisoned more than once by noxious fumes) informed me that one of the symptoms of CO poisoning in feeling tired. So we all woke up, cleaned up, and shoved off way early than everyone else thus beating the RV traffic.

All in all another successful trip, I consumed enough calories to feed a small village, drank 30-40 beers, and had an overall good time. We should do this again next year.


NOTE: They call Penn State Happy Valley. I don’t know if this is in reference to the valley it’s nestled into in the mountains or what but it’s a misnomer. I’ve been there a grand total of 6 days in my life and it has rained 5 of them. Happy Valley will henceforth be referred to as Sad Valley by me.

You're Invited to the Pants Party

I’ve been wearing pants for a long time, and as long as I can remember they have always been worn at or around the same area. I like to keep them a few inches below the belly button, sitting right on the hips. I don’t think I’m alone in wearing my pants in this general area. Sure there are different trends; some people (myself included) have a pair or two of lower rising jeans, some people have some pants that fit a little higher up on the waist, but it never really very varies more than an inch or two. So here’s my question, why does this all change when you reach a certain? A man got on the elevator today as I was leaving work, a conservative estimate of his age would be around 78ish, and his pants were resting snuggly around the lower nipple. I say resting snuggly but really there was no resting at all, his belt was cinched pretty darn tight to get them to stay up this high. This is a good 13 to 15 inches from were my pants like to hang out. I don’t get it. Unless he was Ed Grimly or Lou Diamond Phillips from Stand and Deliver there is no way that he always rocked that style. So what made him change? Am I being insensitive about some old person’s issue that I don’t even know about? Maybe he had arthritic hips and having pants hanging from them cause undue may. Or maybe it’s due to the fact that you tend to lose all discernable shape and get doughy at a certain age which means you have to make a choice, over the paunch or under, and he chose over. I don’t know, and I want to, can anyone help me with this issue? Am I going to be dressing like this in 50 years? If I do it’s going to be because I’ll be getting a kick out of people thinking about how crazy I look, and I’ll probably pull them extra high and snug so that people will accidentally see my balls and I’ll laugh at them thinking I don’t know and trying not to look but not being able to look away.

Maybe I'm Just the Outdoorsy Type

I like to think I would be more resourceful than the usual lot if I were a homeless person. I lived in a city long enough to see how they are treated by the general public, not very well. I think most people are fairly cynical when it comes to a homeless dude, not that we’re all evil heartless people who are completely unsympathetic to the plight of our fellow man, but pretty much everyone just assumes that they’re going to use your money for something rather unsavory (see: Crack) that you’d rather not be a part of. Not to mention that multiple times I’ve had food with me that I offered and had that turned down by someone. It’s hard to feel bad for someone who says they’re hungry and then turns down food. Beggars can’t be choosers, literally. So experiences like this lead to the majority of people to be not very trusting of anyone who asks for money on the street, which sucks because there are probably many people who are genuinely having a rough go of it and could use all the help they can get. That’s why you gotta have a gimmick. I would treat like I was an actor trying to make it Hollywood or something; have a stunt to grab people’s attention. One time I was walking in Georgetown, as I crossed a bridge there was a man leaning over the side of the bridge holding a pole like he was fishing. When someone walked by he swung the pole around and at the end was a big cardboard arrow hanging over a bucket that said “Gimme a dollar.” It was hilarious and guess what, I gave him a dollar for making me laugh. I hear there is a guy in New York who hangs a sign over his neck telling people they can cuss him out for a dollar. Now that’s the kind of ingenuity and imagination I’m talking about. I bet that guy makes more money than I do. You’ve got to have some pizzazz, a little added flavor, just getting in someone’s face tend to scare them and turns them off.

I think another important thing would be to never turn down any opportunities. I mean, when somebody offers you some food take the food. Then you also have to be aware of your surroundings. For example, a new 7-11 just opened a block from my office building (which by the way also seems to be a hotbed for homeless people in Baltimore). On opening day a person was outside handing out coupons for free sandwiches. If I was in the unfortunate situation of being homeless you better believe I’d have figured way to get my hands on about 40 of those coupons, I’d be eating like a king for weeks.

The reason I bring this all up is because of something that happened this morning that I found very strange. Brian and I were walking to our office this morning and there was a homeless guy a few feet in front of us. As I’m walking I look down a see ahead of me a sandwich all wrapped up in plastic wrap just sitting on the ground, someone must have dropped their lunch at some point. It actually looked pretty good and perfectly clean, hell I considered picking it up myself. So what did the guy do? HE WALKED RIGHT BY. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he didn’t see it but damn man, keep your eyes peeled. When you don’t know when your next meal is coming you may want to be on the lookout for sandwiches falling from the sky.

Knocking Down Walls

Tonight I did something unprecedented in my world. I’m sure to most people it is a fairly common occurrence and not weird at all but for some reason it is totally foreign to me. Not only have I never done this before but the possibility of ever doing it never crossed my mind. That’s right folks; I used the grocery store bathroom. I have absolutely no idea why the thought of peeing in the supermarket seems so strange to me but it always has. I can remember many an instance where I was bursting at the seams, I think you could see my bladder through my shirt, and yet the thought never arose that I could just use the restroom there. Well no more, I’m breaking down barriers in my life, and I started tonight by urinating in at Giant. In case you were wonder the muzak playing during this momentous event was Sting, Desert Rose. Sting from now on always have a special place in my heart.

Like Anyone Cares About My Opinion

I ride to work each morning with my roommate and usually his girlfriend (actually I guess it’s just my roommates now that she has moved in). I’m eternally grateful for the free ride since I’ve been having a little car trouble for the last say 2 years, but there is one downside to this. Occasionally I am subjected to music that some might say is questionable, and I might say sucks. I don’t complain because what kind of douche bag gets a free ride then complains about the music the driver is listening to, also I don’t really care, I’m not a music snob so whatever people are into is fine with me, I listen to a lot of music that a lot of other people would hate so who am I to talk. This morning I got to check out something extra special though, so with out further ado here is my very short, very unintelligent review of Clay Aiken’s new album A Thousand Different Ways:

It sucked. I don’t know how many songs were on the album but it breaks down to about half new songs and half covers. The new songs were all just really cheesy, dreadful ballads. Clay Aiken makes Nick Lachey seem like Elton John. Then there are the covers. He covers the likes of Richard Marx, Mr. Mister, Bryan Adams and more. At least these are a little better because they weren’t written by whoever writes Clay Aiken’s music. They aren’t exactly classics but I think a lot of people enjoy these songs. It sort of comes off as if he is taking some 80’s pop songs and gaying them up a little bit for the Clayniacs. And by a little bit I mean a lot. I’m not suggesting the he is or isn’t gay, and it doesn’t matter to me either way, but there is something wispy and ethereal about Aiken’s voice along with a forced power and the production so overly perfect, clean and obsessive compulsive that the whole thing just comes off as incredibly gay. Basically Clay is a male Celine Dion, only Dion is way more manly than Aiken and could probably kick his ass.

All in all I highly recommend purchasing this album. But not to listen to, I think you should buy it so that you can throw it away and prevent someone else from having to hear it.

p.s. this is just my opinion, if you like Clay Aiken more power to you, clearly, I don’t. I wanted Carmen Rasmusen to win.

p.p.s. Wendy, even though it’s almost next weekend I’ll still put up a summary of last weekend for since I know how badly you want to read it.