I am going to the beach tomorrow so I will not be posting again until probably next Wednesday, though I imagine I'll have some great material to add. Since I'm leaving tomorrow I have a lot of shit I need to take care of around here (packing, getting the dog's shit together to take her to my parents, doing laundry so I have clothes for the trip, etc.). So I'm afraid there won't be a real post today. But I would like to make reference to my post made on March 30 in regards to fantasy baseball and who I thought would be the best guy to pick up cheap in your fantasy drafts:
"1) Andruw Jones - Get him on your team. He's the magical age, is actually hitting well this Spring and I'll go out on a limb and say he's gonna pull a .300-100-40-120-15 season."
Jones' stats as of today (about 1/2 way): .285-46-25-56-2
For those who believed in me, you have been rewarded. I will make a second half prediction following the All-Star Break and you should all listen this time. Have a good 4th.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Top 10: Don't Believe the Hype
With the NBA Draft occurring last night, there will soon be talk of how great this and that guy are going to be. Of course, there will be one or more players that will get lots of talk and not have much to show about it (Kwame Brown). So with that in mind, I present to you:
Top 10 Most "Overhyped" Athletes
10) Lavar Arrington - As a Redskins fan, this one hits close to home. I've been hearing all the hype for years now, and when do the Skins have their best defensive year? When Lavar is out hurt.
9) Jerry Stackhouse - I got to see Stackhouse first hand when he played here for the Wizards. All I can say is "thank god he's gone."
8) Yao Ming - Yes, he's big and Asian but I don't see circus freaks headlining newspapers. If you can't get to the NBA Finals with T-Mac as your teammate, you're obviously not the next great big man. Unless, the problem is...
7) Tracy McGrady - T-Mac...Macaroni. Win something, then you can have a shoe worth buying. Punk.
6) Jake "The Snake" Plummer - Why does everyone think this guy is good? Yes, he had to play on Arizona for most of his career, but shouldn't a good quarterback make a team better?
5) Barry Bonds - This is less a commentary about Barry's skills and more a commentary about the sportscasters that are constantly sucking his dick. They have a sportscaster whose only assignment is this one man. I know he's breaking records but come on. What about the guys that are winning World Series?
4) Mike Tyson - Yeah, he used to kill guys when he was young, but why are people even spending $5 to see this guy box now. He quit his last match for no reason??!!
3) Antoine Walker - I've always hated this guy and then that trade with Atlanta last year was just shameful. I still don't know how he gets any hype...I'm pretty sure most NBA players could average 20.0 PPG if they took 50 shots.
2) Eric Lindros - Wasn't he supposed to be the next big thing to help keep hockey alive once Wayne Gretzky retired? Yeah, that seemed to work.
1) Vince Carter - This douchebag thinks he's bigger than the game and can force his team to trade him. Who do you think you are? Where are your championship rings? Where are your MVP awards, mini-Michael Jordan???
Top 10 Most "Overhyped" Athletes
10) Lavar Arrington - As a Redskins fan, this one hits close to home. I've been hearing all the hype for years now, and when do the Skins have their best defensive year? When Lavar is out hurt.
9) Jerry Stackhouse - I got to see Stackhouse first hand when he played here for the Wizards. All I can say is "thank god he's gone."
8) Yao Ming - Yes, he's big and Asian but I don't see circus freaks headlining newspapers. If you can't get to the NBA Finals with T-Mac as your teammate, you're obviously not the next great big man. Unless, the problem is...
7) Tracy McGrady - T-Mac...Macaroni. Win something, then you can have a shoe worth buying. Punk.
6) Jake "The Snake" Plummer - Why does everyone think this guy is good? Yes, he had to play on Arizona for most of his career, but shouldn't a good quarterback make a team better?
5) Barry Bonds - This is less a commentary about Barry's skills and more a commentary about the sportscasters that are constantly sucking his dick. They have a sportscaster whose only assignment is this one man. I know he's breaking records but come on. What about the guys that are winning World Series?
4) Mike Tyson - Yeah, he used to kill guys when he was young, but why are people even spending $5 to see this guy box now. He quit his last match for no reason??!!
3) Antoine Walker - I've always hated this guy and then that trade with Atlanta last year was just shameful. I still don't know how he gets any hype...I'm pretty sure most NBA players could average 20.0 PPG if they took 50 shots.
2) Eric Lindros - Wasn't he supposed to be the next big thing to help keep hockey alive once Wayne Gretzky retired? Yeah, that seemed to work.
1) Vince Carter - This douchebag thinks he's bigger than the game and can force his team to trade him. Who do you think you are? Where are your championship rings? Where are your MVP awards, mini-Michael Jordan???
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Brain Farts 2
Once again, I bring to you a few Brain Farts. Not quite the complete shit you were hoping for, but enjoyable nonetheless.
-What sick fuck orders a Classic Triple from Wendy's? I had a Classic Double yesterday and have shat 4 times today. I can't imagine the horror associated with a 50% increase in beef.
-Today, my brother and I were discussing an au pair that works at a pool that we were doing some work at. Of course, she is hot or I wouldn't be mentioning it, but we couldn't come up with any witty off-the-cuff comments. Here's the one's we came up with:
"I'd like to give her a green card." (huh?)
"I think we could have a foreign exchange." (better, but kinda lame)
"Au pair, more like Aww Yeah-er" (now we're stretching)
"Man, I'd like to fuck her in the ass." (that was my brother's submission and I laughed for five minutes straight)
-I was watching the news last night and they were doing a report on abuse of fireworks down in DC. Apparently, people are lighting fire works at all hours of the night and some are throwing fireworks at people or cars in the street. Then they interviewed this lady, and this was her commentary:
"Yeah, I was walking along the street with my baby and there was these kids and they were throwing fireworks at cars as they drove by. I didn't think that that was legal..."
YOU THINK!!??? In that scene, I don't know who's more stupid.
-What sick fuck orders a Classic Triple from Wendy's? I had a Classic Double yesterday and have shat 4 times today. I can't imagine the horror associated with a 50% increase in beef.
-Today, my brother and I were discussing an au pair that works at a pool that we were doing some work at. Of course, she is hot or I wouldn't be mentioning it, but we couldn't come up with any witty off-the-cuff comments. Here's the one's we came up with:
"I'd like to give her a green card." (huh?)
"I think we could have a foreign exchange." (better, but kinda lame)
"Au pair, more like Aww Yeah-er" (now we're stretching)
"Man, I'd like to fuck her in the ass." (that was my brother's submission and I laughed for five minutes straight)
-I was watching the news last night and they were doing a report on abuse of fireworks down in DC. Apparently, people are lighting fire works at all hours of the night and some are throwing fireworks at people or cars in the street. Then they interviewed this lady, and this was her commentary:
"Yeah, I was walking along the street with my baby and there was these kids and they were throwing fireworks at cars as they drove by. I didn't think that that was legal..."
YOU THINK!!??? In that scene, I don't know who's more stupid.
Monday, June 27, 2005
Basketball Nightmares
Since my last post about our basketball team losing a heartbreaker despite fighting through a 4 on 5 first half, our team has stumbled to a 1-5 start with our only victory being by forfeit (though the team we would have played has never won). Our latest disaster just finished and I am sitting here in cool down, completely disgusted with my own shooting and the overall play of our entire team.
I really can't be too upset as we were, and have always been, completely outmatched in every one of our games. Tonight we were playing one of the best teams in the league and justifiably no player on their team was shorter than even our tallest player.
The result was our repeated inability to grab a rebound, allowing them to continue to shoot and shoot until they made their shot, and limiting us to one shot (if we even got it off) each possession. The result...a 40-10 first half drubbing and an eventual loss by 30+ points. Did I mention they were a bunch of International players? How do you say, "We kicked their asses?" in Croatian?
Though I basically knew we were going to lose before we played (sad, I know) it's terribly frustrating to battle with a 6'5" guy and finally when you get good position and feel the rebound is yours, to have another 6'5" guy snatch the ball away from you. Then, add to that that my shooting reached an all-time low.
Though I finished with the second highest point total for our team (8 points...yeah, I know), I probably shot about 25% if that, only making my four baskets on layups and missing my only free throw. The rest of our team didn't fair much better and most possessions consisted of a one on three (or more) drive and heave, since we really couldn't set up any type of offense without a big man to work an inside-outside style of game.
Thankfully, we have a week off to regroup physically and mentally. Physically, I think I need it because right now I have this weird sensation that my arms and legs are on fire. I am on drugs for the strep throat I contracted last week, which may explain this odd feeling, but if you don't see any posts for several days, call an ambulance for the old J-man.
At least everyone gets into the playoffs. For now, hit the showers.
I really can't be too upset as we were, and have always been, completely outmatched in every one of our games. Tonight we were playing one of the best teams in the league and justifiably no player on their team was shorter than even our tallest player.
The result was our repeated inability to grab a rebound, allowing them to continue to shoot and shoot until they made their shot, and limiting us to one shot (if we even got it off) each possession. The result...a 40-10 first half drubbing and an eventual loss by 30+ points. Did I mention they were a bunch of International players? How do you say, "We kicked their asses?" in Croatian?
Though I basically knew we were going to lose before we played (sad, I know) it's terribly frustrating to battle with a 6'5" guy and finally when you get good position and feel the rebound is yours, to have another 6'5" guy snatch the ball away from you. Then, add to that that my shooting reached an all-time low.
Though I finished with the second highest point total for our team (8 points...yeah, I know), I probably shot about 25% if that, only making my four baskets on layups and missing my only free throw. The rest of our team didn't fair much better and most possessions consisted of a one on three (or more) drive and heave, since we really couldn't set up any type of offense without a big man to work an inside-outside style of game.
Thankfully, we have a week off to regroup physically and mentally. Physically, I think I need it because right now I have this weird sensation that my arms and legs are on fire. I am on drugs for the strep throat I contracted last week, which may explain this odd feeling, but if you don't see any posts for several days, call an ambulance for the old J-man.
At least everyone gets into the playoffs. For now, hit the showers.
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Chloe
After months of posting and making reference to Chloe, I am taking advantage of the new blogspot picture capability to show you the dog behind the stories.
I got Chloe back in October when she was 10 weeks old, so there's really no one to blame for her antics except myself.
When I first picked her out, the lady at the pet store suggested that I call her Pistol because even at that point she was very boisterous. It comes with the territory though, because I really wanted a beagle and that's just how they are. I'm a bit insane at times, so I figured we'd work well together. It took a while before we chose a name, but ended up with Chloe. I actually had never had a female dog and the idea of naming a dog a girl's name seemed a bit weird to me. I already had set myself to name my male dog, Knuckles, but that will have to wait, I guess.
So, I get Chloe home, get her a whole bunch of stuff and then the experiment begins. I was a psychology major in college, so I figured this would be easy...I remember Pavlov. WRONG! Chloe found great pleasure in peeing and pooping on every piece of carpeting in the house, and did not have a great fondness for wet grass. This lasted for about 3 months. Amy was beyond annoyed, because she does not like dogs to begin with and the place still has a faint smell of pee on our stairs going to the basement.
She is finally settled in the going outside routine, though she'll have an accident here or there. Don't we all? As for other training, she's not too disciplined though she does know how to sit, shake your hand (which is AWESOME), sit up on her hind legs, lay down, and punch you in the balls (she actually learned this one on her own, which sucks).
She's actually a great dog, most of her day consists of her sitting on a seat here in the computer room, looking out the window and howling (she's a beagle) at anyone that walks by. She gets especially pissed off when these two white dogs go by on their walk. Really riles her up. The rest of her time is spent following me around or destroying one of her many toys. She has the very odd habit of tearing the eyes out of all the stuff toys and ripping the stuffing out of their head through the eye socket. Errr, a little disturbing.
Glad she only weighs 17 lbs.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Ridiculous Bet #2, NOT PAID
This is just to help remind myself and my friend, Pogue, that he still owes me $10 for this bet of a couple weeks ago.
"Yankees would win the third and final game of the series against the Pirates, thus completing the sweep."
My claim, my win, now where's my money?
"Yankees would win the third and final game of the series against the Pirates, thus completing the sweep."
My claim, my win, now where's my money?
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Fuzzy Memories: Booze Cruise
In keeping with the Boat Cruise theme, I am reminded of my College Senior Year Spring Break Trip to Cancun, Mexico. Unlike, Panama City from the year before, we learned from our mistakes and went with a large group consisting of absolutely no girlfriends, or women for that matter.
We stayed at an overly nice Villas-style resort, which was obviously not intended for Spring Breakers, but we ended up there anyway. (one of the guys who went with the group was good friends with a travel agent). Anyway, the place was almost right next door to Fat Tuesdays, which ended up being our favorite place to go and also would be the site of MTV's Spring Break the week after we left (remember, our Spring Break was always in February).
One of the draws to Fat Tuesday was that they offered a booze cruise, where they would take you out to an island for food and entertainment, and alcohol and debauchery. So we get on this boat, and out to sea. Apparently, "cruise" does not translate into Spanish very well, because this boat is flying through the water, rocking side to side, and making it difficult to stand up even without the large amount of alcohol in my system at the time.
It's about a 1/2 hour or more on the boat before we get to our destination, so my group is splitting up on the boat and talking with different ladies and such. After a while, I find myself hanging out with this group of three girls from Boston College (I think... somewhere in Boston at least) that my friend Debo had originally been talking to and had left to try his shot with other girls. Debo was the "player" of our group for Spring Break, though I wouldn't exactly say he was the smoothest. He did end up with at least one girl each night, though some of his finest pickup moves that I've witnessed included spitting some of his drink at a girl to get her attention, and yelling at a girl after HE forgot HER name. Yeah, not sure about that one. Anyway, back to the story.
So, I'm chilling on the boat with these three girls when we finally arrive at the island. At this point, I'm looking around for all my friends without any luck so I continue on with the girls to the buffet line. Apparently the alcohol fogged my judgment (go figure) as I saw nothing wrong with having a buffet on an island...in Mexico... where I saw no visible signs of a kitchen. I helped myself to a plate full of Mexican dishes and the four of us went to sit at one of the cafeteria style tables. As the only guy with these girls, I was more or less the focus of the conversation as they all knew each other already (duh).
This was all well and good until I took that fateful bite into the burrito I had just gotten from the buffet. The minute the bean or guacamole or rat paste or whatever hit my tongue, I knew this was not going to be good. My tongue started to feel like it was growing to twice its thinkness and my stomach was letting me know it wanted nothing to do with this new food group, especially after a rocky ship ride. But the girls are still talking to me. How do I continue the conversation without saying a word? I know if I try to speak, I'm gonna puke for sure. I can fight this one down. I'll be OK. But where is the bathroom just in case? I don't see a bathroom anywhere. And we just got here. And I must look pretty bad right now. And my tongue does not appear to be shrinking back down. And these girls keeping talking. So...
I stand up, without a word, mid-conversation and make a b-line away from the general table area. I make it about two feet before I feel the puke coming up. I quickly put my hand over my mouth to hopefully hold it back, but instead create a wonderful fountain of puke, spraying in all directions out of the gaps in between my fingers.
I eventually make it to one of the tiki bars positioned on the edges of the eating area and notice a trash can right next to it. I finish my business in the trash can and ask the bartender for a napkin ...or 10. After wiping my mouth and hand thoroughly, I finally locate my buddy McGee and have this conversation.
Me: Dude, do I look OK?
McGee: Yeah, why?
Me: I just puked. Do I look OK though?
McGee: [mocking] Yeah, you look fine.
Me: Good. What about my hand? [I extended my smelly puke hand towards his face]
McGee: HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK!
Yeah, I'm not doing so good. Luckily, I ask the bartender where a bathroom is, get to a sink and wash myself up.
The sheer embarassment would likely keep anyone from going back to the girls at the table, but I soon came to discover that puking on yourself then returning to the scene of the crime actually bonds you closer to the girls you are with. They were very sympathetic and ended up spending the rest of the cruise with me and my group of friends.
Well, if spitting and yelling works for Debo, I guess puking into my hand is my go to move.
We stayed at an overly nice Villas-style resort, which was obviously not intended for Spring Breakers, but we ended up there anyway. (one of the guys who went with the group was good friends with a travel agent). Anyway, the place was almost right next door to Fat Tuesdays, which ended up being our favorite place to go and also would be the site of MTV's Spring Break the week after we left (remember, our Spring Break was always in February).
One of the draws to Fat Tuesday was that they offered a booze cruise, where they would take you out to an island for food and entertainment, and alcohol and debauchery. So we get on this boat, and out to sea. Apparently, "cruise" does not translate into Spanish very well, because this boat is flying through the water, rocking side to side, and making it difficult to stand up even without the large amount of alcohol in my system at the time.
It's about a 1/2 hour or more on the boat before we get to our destination, so my group is splitting up on the boat and talking with different ladies and such. After a while, I find myself hanging out with this group of three girls from Boston College (I think... somewhere in Boston at least) that my friend Debo had originally been talking to and had left to try his shot with other girls. Debo was the "player" of our group for Spring Break, though I wouldn't exactly say he was the smoothest. He did end up with at least one girl each night, though some of his finest pickup moves that I've witnessed included spitting some of his drink at a girl to get her attention, and yelling at a girl after HE forgot HER name. Yeah, not sure about that one. Anyway, back to the story.
So, I'm chilling on the boat with these three girls when we finally arrive at the island. At this point, I'm looking around for all my friends without any luck so I continue on with the girls to the buffet line. Apparently the alcohol fogged my judgment (go figure) as I saw nothing wrong with having a buffet on an island...in Mexico... where I saw no visible signs of a kitchen. I helped myself to a plate full of Mexican dishes and the four of us went to sit at one of the cafeteria style tables. As the only guy with these girls, I was more or less the focus of the conversation as they all knew each other already (duh).
This was all well and good until I took that fateful bite into the burrito I had just gotten from the buffet. The minute the bean or guacamole or rat paste or whatever hit my tongue, I knew this was not going to be good. My tongue started to feel like it was growing to twice its thinkness and my stomach was letting me know it wanted nothing to do with this new food group, especially after a rocky ship ride. But the girls are still talking to me. How do I continue the conversation without saying a word? I know if I try to speak, I'm gonna puke for sure. I can fight this one down. I'll be OK. But where is the bathroom just in case? I don't see a bathroom anywhere. And we just got here. And I must look pretty bad right now. And my tongue does not appear to be shrinking back down. And these girls keeping talking. So...
I stand up, without a word, mid-conversation and make a b-line away from the general table area. I make it about two feet before I feel the puke coming up. I quickly put my hand over my mouth to hopefully hold it back, but instead create a wonderful fountain of puke, spraying in all directions out of the gaps in between my fingers.
I eventually make it to one of the tiki bars positioned on the edges of the eating area and notice a trash can right next to it. I finish my business in the trash can and ask the bartender for a napkin ...or 10. After wiping my mouth and hand thoroughly, I finally locate my buddy McGee and have this conversation.
Me: Dude, do I look OK?
McGee: Yeah, why?
Me: I just puked. Do I look OK though?
McGee: [mocking] Yeah, you look fine.
Me: Good. What about my hand? [I extended my smelly puke hand towards his face]
McGee: HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK!
Yeah, I'm not doing so good. Luckily, I ask the bartender where a bathroom is, get to a sink and wash myself up.
The sheer embarassment would likely keep anyone from going back to the girls at the table, but I soon came to discover that puking on yourself then returning to the scene of the crime actually bonds you closer to the girls you are with. They were very sympathetic and ended up spending the rest of the cruise with me and my group of friends.
Well, if spitting and yelling works for Debo, I guess puking into my hand is my go to move.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Cruisin'
So, I've been slacking a bit on the blogs lately, not that I haven't had any good material...just the lack of time to put it out for everyone's enjoyment. With all that has gone on since my last blog, it is tough to choose what to bring you up on. Wait, no it isn't. Let me begin.
Saturday night, Amy's company was having a party on a Harbor Cruise ship in Baltimore, so we made the hike up. We were running a bit late because Amy gets off work at 5 PM, then she needs to get home and get ready, as do I because I had to work and was too lazy to shower right when I got home, and we need to be in Baltimore by 6:30 PM. I made it to the Harbor from Rockville and parked in 30 minutes, which I believe was an all time high for me...liking the G35. So, we get there and get our tickets to the Cruise ship with plenty of time to spare. All is good.
Now let me give you the lineup of co-workers that we have enjoying the festivities tonight:
1) The flamingly gay co-worker and his special friend who has been enjoying the gay pride parade, which has apparently moved north this weekend.
2) The older but still thinks she's hip manager, with a slight drinking problem and matching husband with exceptionally bad comb-over
3) The flamboyant black guy who is wearing a bright orange shirt and will later have a "You got served" dance-off battle with 5 little girls (I know, you can't make this stuff up)
4) And the owner's neice who is quite frankly the closest I've come to actually meeting a porn star.
Now, I could bore you with stories about the first three characters, but I feel I've grown to know my audience, and I'll just skip right to the Porn Star herself.
I met Kara at Amy's company's Christmas party. It was then that I was informed...by her...that she has fake boobs (trust me, she didn't need to inform me of this fact) and does Hawaiian Tropic modelling when she isn't working at the bathroom tile place her uncle owns. So, as you can imagine, she doesn't like to hide her body too much. Needless to say, Amy does not like me talking with her, and within five minutes of our arrival for the cruise, I was given this speech:
"If you flirt with Kara tonight, we are through. I am not kidding, I will leave you if you are flirting with that skank." For the record, I did not flirt with her at the Christmas party...I merely talked with her. Her boyfriend was at the table too.
Now, what would give Amy such a low opinion of this fine woman? Well, outside of the fact that at the Christmas party, she threw a glass of wine on another girl (over her shoulder, no less) because the other girl was giving her friend a bad look for spilling a drop of her drink onto the girl earlier.
So, we were given the impression that the cruise was a higher class event, so most everyone is dressed in nice stuff from our group. However, most of the other people on the boat are not. So within moments, Kara has excused herself from the table and returns later, now wearing low rise jeans and high rise pink underwear (thong, of course). Did I mention there are children on the ship...that will later be in a dance-off?
Well, apparently Kara realized this too and was decent enough to hide her underwear from showing...by taking them off and carrying them around the rest of the night. (I know, you can't make this stuff up)
So, we make it through the whole 3-hour cruise and thankfully Kara did not attempted to dry hump a 50-year old man on the dance floor. Woops, scratch that. Well, at least she didn't serve 5 small black girls who were just trying to enjoy a night out with their families. Oh, they got served.
Everyone is heading home, but a few of us decide we want to stay around in Baltimore since it's still early (10 PM). Not knowing Baltimore too much, we decide to go to ESPN Zone. Obviously, I want to play the football toss game, because well, it's my favorite...do I need more of a reason. Usually, I'm pretty good at it, but apparently 7 Captain & Cokes and a beer will affect your throwing ability, as one of Amy's co-workers beats me in the first game. I am drunk and appalled and demand a rematch.
It is at this point that the most ridiculous act of Porn Star greatness surfaces. Standing in line for my rematch, Kara asks me,
"So, are you gonna win this time or are you going to .... [makes a two-handed, full facial expression blow job re-enactment]?"
OK, now I see why Amy didn't want me to talk to her.
Saturday night, Amy's company was having a party on a Harbor Cruise ship in Baltimore, so we made the hike up. We were running a bit late because Amy gets off work at 5 PM, then she needs to get home and get ready, as do I because I had to work and was too lazy to shower right when I got home, and we need to be in Baltimore by 6:30 PM. I made it to the Harbor from Rockville and parked in 30 minutes, which I believe was an all time high for me...liking the G35. So, we get there and get our tickets to the Cruise ship with plenty of time to spare. All is good.
Now let me give you the lineup of co-workers that we have enjoying the festivities tonight:
1) The flamingly gay co-worker and his special friend who has been enjoying the gay pride parade, which has apparently moved north this weekend.
2) The older but still thinks she's hip manager, with a slight drinking problem and matching husband with exceptionally bad comb-over
3) The flamboyant black guy who is wearing a bright orange shirt and will later have a "You got served" dance-off battle with 5 little girls (I know, you can't make this stuff up)
4) And the owner's neice who is quite frankly the closest I've come to actually meeting a porn star.
Now, I could bore you with stories about the first three characters, but I feel I've grown to know my audience, and I'll just skip right to the Porn Star herself.
I met Kara at Amy's company's Christmas party. It was then that I was informed...by her...that she has fake boobs (trust me, she didn't need to inform me of this fact) and does Hawaiian Tropic modelling when she isn't working at the bathroom tile place her uncle owns. So, as you can imagine, she doesn't like to hide her body too much. Needless to say, Amy does not like me talking with her, and within five minutes of our arrival for the cruise, I was given this speech:
"If you flirt with Kara tonight, we are through. I am not kidding, I will leave you if you are flirting with that skank." For the record, I did not flirt with her at the Christmas party...I merely talked with her. Her boyfriend was at the table too.
Now, what would give Amy such a low opinion of this fine woman? Well, outside of the fact that at the Christmas party, she threw a glass of wine on another girl (over her shoulder, no less) because the other girl was giving her friend a bad look for spilling a drop of her drink onto the girl earlier.
So, we were given the impression that the cruise was a higher class event, so most everyone is dressed in nice stuff from our group. However, most of the other people on the boat are not. So within moments, Kara has excused herself from the table and returns later, now wearing low rise jeans and high rise pink underwear (thong, of course). Did I mention there are children on the ship...that will later be in a dance-off?
Well, apparently Kara realized this too and was decent enough to hide her underwear from showing...by taking them off and carrying them around the rest of the night. (I know, you can't make this stuff up)
So, we make it through the whole 3-hour cruise and thankfully Kara did not attempted to dry hump a 50-year old man on the dance floor. Woops, scratch that. Well, at least she didn't serve 5 small black girls who were just trying to enjoy a night out with their families. Oh, they got served.
Everyone is heading home, but a few of us decide we want to stay around in Baltimore since it's still early (10 PM). Not knowing Baltimore too much, we decide to go to ESPN Zone. Obviously, I want to play the football toss game, because well, it's my favorite...do I need more of a reason. Usually, I'm pretty good at it, but apparently 7 Captain & Cokes and a beer will affect your throwing ability, as one of Amy's co-workers beats me in the first game. I am drunk and appalled and demand a rematch.
It is at this point that the most ridiculous act of Porn Star greatness surfaces. Standing in line for my rematch, Kara asks me,
"So, are you gonna win this time or are you going to .... [makes a two-handed, full facial expression blow job re-enactment]?"
OK, now I see why Amy didn't want me to talk to her.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Top 10: King of Pop
In honor of Michael Jackson's rise to the ranks of OJ and Kobe as celebrities who get away with anything (though MJ is innocent), it seems only fitting that this week I bring to you:
Top 10 Michael Jackson Songs
(So whip out your old cassette tapes and your copy of Home Alone, and just beat it.)
10) Earth Song - This song really didn't get any attention because he was too busy dealing with his first child-touching court case. I'd have to say this was his last good song.
9) Wanna Be Startin' Something - Who can forget, "Mama say, mama saw, mama cusa???!!!"
8) Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough - I'm not a huge fan of the 70s Michael, but this was his tops.
7) The Way You Make Me Feel - The girl in this video is pretty smoking. If only she were 6 years old, and male, and I'd find the lyrics more convincing.
6) Smooth Criminal - Annie, are you OK?
5) Human Nature - A terribly underappreciated Jacko tune, though it has been sampled and re-done on many occassions.
4) Beat It - Yeah, I had a leather jacket with a bunch of zippers on it when I was 7. You got a problem with that?
3) Man in the Mirror - This ended up being his theme music for the trial, but a great song.
2) Billie Jean - Watching MJ perform this at the Motown reunion is like watching the other MJ pull the up and under move against the Lakers in the '91 NBA Finals. Spec-TAC-ular.
1) Thriller - This is a classic, groundbreaking song and video. It could be nowhere else but #1.
Top 10 Michael Jackson Songs
(So whip out your old cassette tapes and your copy of Home Alone, and just beat it.)
10) Earth Song - This song really didn't get any attention because he was too busy dealing with his first child-touching court case. I'd have to say this was his last good song.
9) Wanna Be Startin' Something - Who can forget, "Mama say, mama saw, mama cusa???!!!"
8) Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough - I'm not a huge fan of the 70s Michael, but this was his tops.
7) The Way You Make Me Feel - The girl in this video is pretty smoking. If only she were 6 years old, and male, and I'd find the lyrics more convincing.
6) Smooth Criminal - Annie, are you OK?
5) Human Nature - A terribly underappreciated Jacko tune, though it has been sampled and re-done on many occassions.
4) Beat It - Yeah, I had a leather jacket with a bunch of zippers on it when I was 7. You got a problem with that?
3) Man in the Mirror - This ended up being his theme music for the trial, but a great song.
2) Billie Jean - Watching MJ perform this at the Motown reunion is like watching the other MJ pull the up and under move against the Lakers in the '91 NBA Finals. Spec-TAC-ular.
1) Thriller - This is a classic, groundbreaking song and video. It could be nowhere else but #1.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
So Much to Say
This past weekend was truly one of my busier weekends in some time, so I really don't know where to start. I'll only touch on some of the higher points, as going into most of the details could make this blog extremely long.
Friday night started off kind of slow. Went down to my buddy, Kupe's, place and got to meet his new dog, Takoma. Takoma is part beagle, but the other part is a much larger breed. This is funny because Kupe lives in a condo and the rules of the condo are, "you can have a dog, but you must carry it in and out of the building." Takoma is 9 months old and weighs somewhere around 30 lbs. Seeing Kupe's girlfriend lifting up this dog to take it for a walk was truly comedy at its finest. If only they had gotten a bull mastiff.
The night continued on with the standard trip to Peyote Cafe (the karaoke bar) to cheer for upbeat 80s tunes and boo everything else. I'm surprised our group of friends did not get punched, as booing is normally bad form. Though we did try to explain within our booing, "We're not booing you, we're booing your song choice." I kid you not, someone sang "Endless Love" at 1 AM. Who does that?! You are asking to get booed.
On to Saturday. As I mentioned in my other blog, the house was in shambles so I fixed it up for most of the day. Around 6 PM, I headed down to my buddy, Langley's place to do some pre-gaming before heading out for a birthday gathering.
The closest metro stop to Langley's house is Dupont Circle. For those not familiar with DC, Dupont Circle is a notoriously gay area. You put those last two sentences together and make your own jokes. (talk amongst yourselves). So I get off the metro and I'm heading over to Langley's house, which is like a 10 block walk. Typically, I see a couple obviously gay people hanging around, but for the most part, it's not like walking into the dark section of Bourbon Street during Mardis Gras.
But today, something is different. Today, there's an unusual amount of men holding hands, women with hair shorter than mine, beads, and leather chaps. Wait, did I just see leather chaps?!! It took me about three blocks of walking to realize there was obviously something going on, and when I turned onto New Hampshire Avenue and saw gays upon gays lining the streets, it was apparent I was just moments ahead of "A gay rights parade."
I have no problem with homosexuality, but I have always wondered this one thing. Why is it that most gay people look and act like everyone else 99% of the time, but then when a gay rights or gay activist event occurs, they start wearing bright orange moo-moos and leather chaps out in public? What is the deal? This is right up there with the Star Wars nerds putting on their Darth Vader suit to go see the opening night of Star Wars. But I digress.
On to the evening's festivities. We headed over to Porter's and hung out on the second floor. Not too much going on here, but I did see a classic move that has now joined my repertoire of late night stupid things to do. This one I saw while I was chilling with my drink and the music had gotten a little better, causing some girls to start dancing in a circle. Well, girls dancing in a circle is always an inviting place to be, and I think that's what this one guy was thinking.
Did you ever see Twin Peaks when it was on TV? Do you remember the dwarf with the big head who appeared in the dream sequence and spoke backwards? He's been parodied on SNL and the Simpson's since, and apparently he lives in DC now and was at the bar. (He might be a friend of my buddy, Edwin, so I'll apologize for being an asshole right now) So, obviously, he's danced on national TV, he's not afraid to join a couple girls on the dance floor. But any smooth operator knows that if your entering "the circle," you need to get prepped for it. You gotta make sure the ladies know you mean business. And what says, "I mean business" more than licking your left hand, slapping your two hands together and rubbing them deviously as you make your move. Where did he learn this move, and why did I have to wait until this night to see such entertainment?
I don't remember what happened next, and quite frankly I don't even care. As I feel this was the highlight of my night (though other stuff occurred and was funny), I think I'll end this blog at this great moment.
Is that strong bass jazz music I hear playing? Os kniht i, ho.
Friday night started off kind of slow. Went down to my buddy, Kupe's, place and got to meet his new dog, Takoma. Takoma is part beagle, but the other part is a much larger breed. This is funny because Kupe lives in a condo and the rules of the condo are, "you can have a dog, but you must carry it in and out of the building." Takoma is 9 months old and weighs somewhere around 30 lbs. Seeing Kupe's girlfriend lifting up this dog to take it for a walk was truly comedy at its finest. If only they had gotten a bull mastiff.
The night continued on with the standard trip to Peyote Cafe (the karaoke bar) to cheer for upbeat 80s tunes and boo everything else. I'm surprised our group of friends did not get punched, as booing is normally bad form. Though we did try to explain within our booing, "We're not booing you, we're booing your song choice." I kid you not, someone sang "Endless Love" at 1 AM. Who does that?! You are asking to get booed.
On to Saturday. As I mentioned in my other blog, the house was in shambles so I fixed it up for most of the day. Around 6 PM, I headed down to my buddy, Langley's place to do some pre-gaming before heading out for a birthday gathering.
The closest metro stop to Langley's house is Dupont Circle. For those not familiar with DC, Dupont Circle is a notoriously gay area. You put those last two sentences together and make your own jokes. (talk amongst yourselves). So I get off the metro and I'm heading over to Langley's house, which is like a 10 block walk. Typically, I see a couple obviously gay people hanging around, but for the most part, it's not like walking into the dark section of Bourbon Street during Mardis Gras.
But today, something is different. Today, there's an unusual amount of men holding hands, women with hair shorter than mine, beads, and leather chaps. Wait, did I just see leather chaps?!! It took me about three blocks of walking to realize there was obviously something going on, and when I turned onto New Hampshire Avenue and saw gays upon gays lining the streets, it was apparent I was just moments ahead of "A gay rights parade."
I have no problem with homosexuality, but I have always wondered this one thing. Why is it that most gay people look and act like everyone else 99% of the time, but then when a gay rights or gay activist event occurs, they start wearing bright orange moo-moos and leather chaps out in public? What is the deal? This is right up there with the Star Wars nerds putting on their Darth Vader suit to go see the opening night of Star Wars. But I digress.
On to the evening's festivities. We headed over to Porter's and hung out on the second floor. Not too much going on here, but I did see a classic move that has now joined my repertoire of late night stupid things to do. This one I saw while I was chilling with my drink and the music had gotten a little better, causing some girls to start dancing in a circle. Well, girls dancing in a circle is always an inviting place to be, and I think that's what this one guy was thinking.
Did you ever see Twin Peaks when it was on TV? Do you remember the dwarf with the big head who appeared in the dream sequence and spoke backwards? He's been parodied on SNL and the Simpson's since, and apparently he lives in DC now and was at the bar. (He might be a friend of my buddy, Edwin, so I'll apologize for being an asshole right now) So, obviously, he's danced on national TV, he's not afraid to join a couple girls on the dance floor. But any smooth operator knows that if your entering "the circle," you need to get prepped for it. You gotta make sure the ladies know you mean business. And what says, "I mean business" more than licking your left hand, slapping your two hands together and rubbing them deviously as you make your move. Where did he learn this move, and why did I have to wait until this night to see such entertainment?
I don't remember what happened next, and quite frankly I don't even care. As I feel this was the highlight of my night (though other stuff occurred and was funny), I think I'll end this blog at this great moment.
Is that strong bass jazz music I hear playing? Os kniht i, ho.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Happy Birthday Glen
It is my brother's 29th birthday today, and I believe he reads this blog somewhat regularly, so I'll give him a shoutout. I'll probably give him a call in a bit as well, since simply posting a Happy Birthday message would arguably be one of the laziest things I have ever done in my life.
How did this place get like this?
As I mentioned in an earlier blog, Amy is out of town this week, so I've been holding down the place by myself. Needless to say, with about 1 hour to myself each day before having to go to bed for the next day's work, it's hard to really keep the place up.
As a result, the place has quickly deteriorated into a "bachelor pad." Who knew it happens so quickly when the female presence disappears? I mean, seriously?! At this point, there are clothes strewn everywhere around the bedroom, dirty dishes on the counter, and dirt, I mean honest to god DIRT, is collecting on all the floors (I don't know how this is happening, because I know Amy never vacuumed regularly).
The milk even went bad! What the fuck? Now there's a bowl of cereal sitting on the counter waiting for some milk. And I ate all the taquitos...and salsa! I'm remedying most of these issues today, since I'm not working and I'm almost out of my emergency underwear. Maybe I'll go to the grocery store and pick up some milk so I can eat that cereal too. It's amazing how fast things can deteriorate. Then again, if you show me someone with a perfectly clean house, I'll show you someone who has too much time on their hands. That's my theory and I'm sticking with it.
The dog doesn't seem to mind the mess.
As a result, the place has quickly deteriorated into a "bachelor pad." Who knew it happens so quickly when the female presence disappears? I mean, seriously?! At this point, there are clothes strewn everywhere around the bedroom, dirty dishes on the counter, and dirt, I mean honest to god DIRT, is collecting on all the floors (I don't know how this is happening, because I know Amy never vacuumed regularly).
The milk even went bad! What the fuck? Now there's a bowl of cereal sitting on the counter waiting for some milk. And I ate all the taquitos...and salsa! I'm remedying most of these issues today, since I'm not working and I'm almost out of my emergency underwear. Maybe I'll go to the grocery store and pick up some milk so I can eat that cereal too. It's amazing how fast things can deteriorate. Then again, if you show me someone with a perfectly clean house, I'll show you someone who has too much time on their hands. That's my theory and I'm sticking with it.
The dog doesn't seem to mind the mess.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Fuzzy Memories: Jerk Store
This Fuzzy Memory keeps with the current themes of Zack's departure and TV quotes.
When I first got out of college, I moved into a house with four other friends (loose term) in a nice part of DC. It was a big house, so for the most part we all got along, but we were often crossing paths and therefore picking up each other's sayings and such.
I'm sure everyone has noticed this in their own circle of friends. Someone will see a movie or TV show where there is a funny or useful saying, and they'll begin using it. Next, someone else will begin using it and before you know it, everyone appears to have accepted the new line as part of every day conversation.
Well, my buddy Zack was notorious for rapidly picking up on these new sayings (most of them exclamations) and basically beating them into the ground by using them constantly. And when you live with someone, constantly means... constantly.
At the time of this Fuzzy Memory, Zack is in the habit of saying either "Frogs!" (he just learned that this was an offensive term for French people, I guess. I never knew) or "Go home, Faggots!" (I believe he picked this one up from Allen Iverson, though I could be wrong) Needless to say, both of these sayings didn't work so well when we were going out drinking, which encourages Zack to yell.
So my other roommate, Scott, and I decided it was time we ran an experiment. As a psychology major, I proposed that if we began using a new phrase with religious diligence, Zack would rapidly pick it up and begin using it. The thought of this was quite amusing, so we pushed it a bit further and decided that we wanted to see if he would pick up one that didn't even make sense or have a purpose. The experiment was hatched, and all we needed was our word.
I don't quite remember how we came about it, or if there were even other options, but we decided on "Jerkstore." For those who don't know what a Jerkstore is, go watch Seinfeld re-runs for this classic dialogue:
(George is devouring a plate of shrimp cocktail at a meeting)
Businessman guy: Hey George, the ocean just called; they said they're running out of shrimp.
George: Well, hey so and so, the jerkstore just called, and they said they're running out of you.
I can't think of a better exclamation for our experiment than this. Truly classic. Try it out for yourself. But how long would it take to be accepted?
We started out with rapid exposure. Playing video games in the main room was common place and with it comes yelling. With Scott and my own discipline, "Jerkstore!" was the exclamation of choice for several days. But it was barely within a day and a half that the transference began.
The first time Zack used the expression, I nearly shit my pants. IT HAD WORKED. IT HAD WORKED. Within days, it was fully accepted into Zack's repertoire and continued for an extended period of time.
As with any experiment, we debriefed Zack as to our study and our findings. This basically consisted of a lot of laughing, but he got the picture. We really should have posted our results in a psychological journal, but this Blog will just have to suffice. Future studies could examine how long the new word lasts; if difficult to say lines are rejected or require longer exposure; or if Scott and I are terrible friends for mocking our buddy.
Feel free to expand from these studies or just make your friends use the word "Jerkstore" as a common exclamation. It's definitely very entertaining.
When I first got out of college, I moved into a house with four other friends (loose term) in a nice part of DC. It was a big house, so for the most part we all got along, but we were often crossing paths and therefore picking up each other's sayings and such.
I'm sure everyone has noticed this in their own circle of friends. Someone will see a movie or TV show where there is a funny or useful saying, and they'll begin using it. Next, someone else will begin using it and before you know it, everyone appears to have accepted the new line as part of every day conversation.
Well, my buddy Zack was notorious for rapidly picking up on these new sayings (most of them exclamations) and basically beating them into the ground by using them constantly. And when you live with someone, constantly means... constantly.
At the time of this Fuzzy Memory, Zack is in the habit of saying either "Frogs!" (he just learned that this was an offensive term for French people, I guess. I never knew) or "Go home, Faggots!" (I believe he picked this one up from Allen Iverson, though I could be wrong) Needless to say, both of these sayings didn't work so well when we were going out drinking, which encourages Zack to yell.
So my other roommate, Scott, and I decided it was time we ran an experiment. As a psychology major, I proposed that if we began using a new phrase with religious diligence, Zack would rapidly pick it up and begin using it. The thought of this was quite amusing, so we pushed it a bit further and decided that we wanted to see if he would pick up one that didn't even make sense or have a purpose. The experiment was hatched, and all we needed was our word.
I don't quite remember how we came about it, or if there were even other options, but we decided on "Jerkstore." For those who don't know what a Jerkstore is, go watch Seinfeld re-runs for this classic dialogue:
(George is devouring a plate of shrimp cocktail at a meeting)
Businessman guy: Hey George, the ocean just called; they said they're running out of shrimp.
George: Well, hey so and so, the jerkstore just called, and they said they're running out of you.
I can't think of a better exclamation for our experiment than this. Truly classic. Try it out for yourself. But how long would it take to be accepted?
We started out with rapid exposure. Playing video games in the main room was common place and with it comes yelling. With Scott and my own discipline, "Jerkstore!" was the exclamation of choice for several days. But it was barely within a day and a half that the transference began.
The first time Zack used the expression, I nearly shit my pants. IT HAD WORKED. IT HAD WORKED. Within days, it was fully accepted into Zack's repertoire and continued for an extended period of time.
As with any experiment, we debriefed Zack as to our study and our findings. This basically consisted of a lot of laughing, but he got the picture. We really should have posted our results in a psychological journal, but this Blog will just have to suffice. Future studies could examine how long the new word lasts; if difficult to say lines are rejected or require longer exposure; or if Scott and I are terrible friends for mocking our buddy.
Feel free to expand from these studies or just make your friends use the word "Jerkstore" as a common exclamation. It's definitely very entertaining.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Home Alone
For the first time since I have lived in my new house, I have the place all to myself (and Chloe). Amy has taken a week long trip out to Arizona to visit some of her old friends. She left on Sunday morning at 7AM (which meant I had to wake up early to drive her to the airport...on a Sunday). Since that time, I really haven't known what to do with myself. The truth of the matter is, I really haven't had any extended alone time since I was...well, shit, never.
I lived with my parents and brothers through high school, then had a roomate or more all through college. Once I got out of college, I lived with four people, then two, then one, until now when I've lived with my girlfriend. So this alone time sure does make for a quiet environment.
When I finally re-woke up on Sunday, I decided to go to the movies to see Star Wars. Amy hasn't ever seen any of the Star Wars and had no interest in seeing it, so why not seize this opportunity. I'm willing to admit I'm a dork, and went to go see Star Wars by myself along with the other nerds. I have two comments about the movies:
First, I really did not think that this Star Wars was as bad as advertised. Yes, it's not going to win any awards for dialogue and such, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Screw you, Roeper.
Second, I have never understood why someone has not invented a bag for the popcorn that is very wide, but not very deep. This does not seem like a very difficult concept, and the greater surface area would allow the damned vendor to get butter on more of the popcorn than two handfuls. I mean seriously, the popcorn at the middle of the bag tastes like sawdust without any butter. If I don't see this in the theaters in two months, I'm pulling a patent and taking care of this shit myself.
So three hours pass and I return home. Not much going on here...checked out some porn on the internet, which I have been sadly missing since work got busy. I would watch a movie, but I just did that. Guess I'll walk the dog. Fuck it's hot. That didn't last long. I really need a hobby.
Apparently, this "place to myself" shit is over-rated, as it has been two days now and I really haven't gotten to enjoy much of it, outside of having the whole bed to myself and taking a shit with the door open.
Perhaps I'm just in a transition period and the greatness of not having to concern myself with any other people will grow on me, much like the taste of wine. In the meantime, I hope there's some good shit on TV or something.
I'm sure I'll just start loving it on Sunday, just in time for Amy to return.
I lived with my parents and brothers through high school, then had a roomate or more all through college. Once I got out of college, I lived with four people, then two, then one, until now when I've lived with my girlfriend. So this alone time sure does make for a quiet environment.
When I finally re-woke up on Sunday, I decided to go to the movies to see Star Wars. Amy hasn't ever seen any of the Star Wars and had no interest in seeing it, so why not seize this opportunity. I'm willing to admit I'm a dork, and went to go see Star Wars by myself along with the other nerds. I have two comments about the movies:
First, I really did not think that this Star Wars was as bad as advertised. Yes, it's not going to win any awards for dialogue and such, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Screw you, Roeper.
Second, I have never understood why someone has not invented a bag for the popcorn that is very wide, but not very deep. This does not seem like a very difficult concept, and the greater surface area would allow the damned vendor to get butter on more of the popcorn than two handfuls. I mean seriously, the popcorn at the middle of the bag tastes like sawdust without any butter. If I don't see this in the theaters in two months, I'm pulling a patent and taking care of this shit myself.
So three hours pass and I return home. Not much going on here...checked out some porn on the internet, which I have been sadly missing since work got busy. I would watch a movie, but I just did that. Guess I'll walk the dog. Fuck it's hot. That didn't last long. I really need a hobby.
Apparently, this "place to myself" shit is over-rated, as it has been two days now and I really haven't gotten to enjoy much of it, outside of having the whole bed to myself and taking a shit with the door open.
Perhaps I'm just in a transition period and the greatness of not having to concern myself with any other people will grow on me, much like the taste of wine. In the meantime, I hope there's some good shit on TV or something.
I'm sure I'll just start loving it on Sunday, just in time for Amy to return.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Water Damage
So I'm sitting downstairs last night watching Best of Alec Baldwin on SNL (some pretty damned funny sketches) when I notice that the ceiling looks a little odd in one spot. Well, spot's not really the correct word, considering it looks odd in an area that's about 3' X 6', so I turn on the light.
With the light on, it's pretty apparent what's going on, I've got water damage. FUCK. There's nothing above that spot that could be overflowing, so I assume it's a busted pipe or something, but unfortunately, I have to see it to be sure. At first I just tap a blister of paint that's about 3" in diameter, and out pours this brown liquid. Please don't be shit water. Please don't be shit water. It's not. But there's a good bit of water and I know I've got to do more.
Knowing how much this is going to suck, I ask Amy to get a knife, and start carving into the soaking wet dry wall. It basically collapses in my hands as I cut enough to expose the piping. Pieces of dry wall are falling down everywhere, water is dripping like mad and I'm yelling for pots to try to catch some of the dripping as I continue my scalpel work. Chloe is, of course, loving this, as she continuously eats the pieces of drywall that fall and has been enjoying water in a new bowl ever since.
Did I mention that I found all this at 11:00 PM last night? Well, no plumbers are around...and I still haven't heard back from any of the one's I left messages for almost 24 hours ago. Now I don't feel so bad when I hear those emergency calls from my clients on Monday morning. I'm sure it's gonna be a pretty penny to put this mess back together.
In the meantime, I have a 3' X 6' hole in my basement ceiling, my water turned off most of the time (except when I need to use the bathroom) and a drip bucket sitting on my basement floor collecting the drips of water still in the copper pipe (Chloe handles not letting it overflow).
Why did I want to own a place again?
With the light on, it's pretty apparent what's going on, I've got water damage. FUCK. There's nothing above that spot that could be overflowing, so I assume it's a busted pipe or something, but unfortunately, I have to see it to be sure. At first I just tap a blister of paint that's about 3" in diameter, and out pours this brown liquid. Please don't be shit water. Please don't be shit water. It's not. But there's a good bit of water and I know I've got to do more.
Knowing how much this is going to suck, I ask Amy to get a knife, and start carving into the soaking wet dry wall. It basically collapses in my hands as I cut enough to expose the piping. Pieces of dry wall are falling down everywhere, water is dripping like mad and I'm yelling for pots to try to catch some of the dripping as I continue my scalpel work. Chloe is, of course, loving this, as she continuously eats the pieces of drywall that fall and has been enjoying water in a new bowl ever since.
Did I mention that I found all this at 11:00 PM last night? Well, no plumbers are around...and I still haven't heard back from any of the one's I left messages for almost 24 hours ago. Now I don't feel so bad when I hear those emergency calls from my clients on Monday morning. I'm sure it's gonna be a pretty penny to put this mess back together.
In the meantime, I have a 3' X 6' hole in my basement ceiling, my water turned off most of the time (except when I need to use the bathroom) and a drip bucket sitting on my basement floor collecting the drips of water still in the copper pipe (Chloe handles not letting it overflow).
Why did I want to own a place again?
Saturday, June 04, 2005
The Deaf Come Out at Night
Not normal for me to write two posts in one day, but like I said, last night was retarded. This one will be short.
After Dan's we went to Spaghetti Garden/Peyote/Brass Monke/Roxanne's complex. We lost Zack and apparently stumbled into the twilight zone.
In Brass Monkey and Roxanne's, there must have been about 100 deaf people. How do I know? It was relatively quiet despite the number of people, and everyone was freakin' signing to each other. It was very surreal.
My buddy Scott was covering his mouth as he talked, and I had to fight not laughing. I know, hell's calling, but if you were there and had about 8 drinks in you, you'd be laughing too. Truly remarkable...but this morning I thought of these issues:
1) How does a deaf person go to a bar if it's crowded? They can't just hold their drink and sign at the same time. They'd have to put it down to communicate.
2) This one probably has a simple answer (I can think of many), but how do they order drinks?
3) We slur our words when we're drunk. What happens to a deaf person? I don't know that I'd be able to focus hard enough to sign or read sign language when I'm drinking, but then again, I only know the sign alphabet from 5th grade.
Guess I should have stayed around and tried to get answers to these questions.
After Dan's we went to Spaghetti Garden/Peyote/Brass Monke/Roxanne's complex. We lost Zack and apparently stumbled into the twilight zone.
In Brass Monkey and Roxanne's, there must have been about 100 deaf people. How do I know? It was relatively quiet despite the number of people, and everyone was freakin' signing to each other. It was very surreal.
My buddy Scott was covering his mouth as he talked, and I had to fight not laughing. I know, hell's calling, but if you were there and had about 8 drinks in you, you'd be laughing too. Truly remarkable...but this morning I thought of these issues:
1) How does a deaf person go to a bar if it's crowded? They can't just hold their drink and sign at the same time. They'd have to put it down to communicate.
2) This one probably has a simple answer (I can think of many), but how do they order drinks?
3) We slur our words when we're drunk. What happens to a deaf person? I don't know that I'd be able to focus hard enough to sign or read sign language when I'm drinking, but then again, I only know the sign alphabet from 5th grade.
Guess I should have stayed around and tried to get answers to these questions.
Drunken Tales
Last night was the end of an era...an era of stupidity and excessive drinking in the storied bars of Washington, DC. Now, don't get panicked, I'm still gonna be going out and making a jackass out of myself, but for the first time in 6 years, my buddy Zack will no longer be a native of Washington DC when he joins us in the process of inebriation.
You see, Zack is moving to Philadelphia today to begin a new job, so last night required an extra bit of stupidity to send him off.
Enter Dan's Cafe.
Dan's is a true dive bar at the end of the main strip in Adam's Morgan. If you didn't know where it was, you likely would assume the building is either condemned or a strip joint. There are no windows, no real signage and when you walk inside, you know exactly why. At Dan's, when you order a mixed drink, you don't get "a mixed drink"...you get a bottle of the liquor you requested (they pour it into a glass now), a bucket of ice, a can of the mixer, and a glass. You can not pay with anything other than cash and the bartender looks like he just got out of prison. If you would like a shot, you basically get a syrup vase full of the liquor you wanted and shot glasses. Bluntly, if you wanna get shitty, Dan's will let you do that.
So we get to Dan's last night, after several games of NCAA Basketball '05 during pre-gaming, and are lucky enough to get an area at the end of the bar. We order up our first round of Capt. & Coke cans, and soak in the greatness that is Dan's. Surprisingly for such a dive, there are usually a decent number of good looking women to look at and occassionally talk to. This is where things get retarded.
Now, anyone that has gone out drinking with me will tell you that I can basically talk to anyone for an extended period of time. The key here is "can" as opposed to actually wanting to. Most of the time, I'm not really looking to engage in any conversations with girls. I have a girlfriend who lives with me, and I'm not trying to make my life any more stressful by sneaking around. But that doesn't mean I can't talk. And with talking at a bar, comes the fun of making shit up.
I don't know these people, I'm never going to see them again, so why not be a Bowie Baysox minor league shortstop or a Playboy photographer (Zack's gotten to use this one before) or even the less exotic construction worker or school bus driver. I feel each one is it's own great adventure, and some times I really get into the character. It keeps me entertained. Actually, the whole pool guy thing has its own fun, feel free to use it in the future...you've got some of the stories right here.
Though I have pulled this shit many times in the past, I had never claimed to be anything related to the Military. This is for two reasons: 1) I have respect for these people and to impersonate being them is somewhat disrespectful to what they have gone through, especially now & 2) There tend to be military people out in the bars and if they caught me in a lie, I'm pretty sure they'd beat my ass
However, last night, I got pulled into a military hook by my friend Skeeter and even when I told the girls that I wasn't in the military, they still didn't believe me. Again, this is against my better judgment and I mean no disrespect to the men who are serving our country and dying every day... but if these girls are that dumb, let the games begin. (I'm going to hell)
So, here's how my story goes: I'm out of the military now, did my time in Iraq on morque duty, "You know, baggin and taggin" I didn't see much direct action, most of the time I'm just going in after something has occurred and moved on, to grab the bodies of anyone left behind, with a separate unit.
Scared? Yeah, it's scary. You're hearing gunshots going off all the time. You never know where. But you just have to deal with it. I'd really prefer we not talk about it much. I had to do my time, it paid for my way through school and now I'm back on team Civilian.
What do I do now? Back to reality...a beautiful seque and we appear to be home free. Focus on the true stuff more, and it sells the lies. (I'm such a dick.)
This went on for a bit longer, but all in all a pretty good lie, based on the truths of one of my co-workers. Another key to a good lie...if you know someone who does something, retell their stories and you're set. (Truly, going to hell)
Nothing came of the discussions, but my friends were enjoying the show. Eventually the girls left, so that I could yell at Skeeter for making me pull that shit.
But I can't deny, it's always fun...and this was my highlight that I'll leave you with:
Girl: So, did it like mess with your mind or anything? I have a friend who cuts himself now that he's back.
Me: Nah, nah. I don't feel any different. I've got the memories, but I'm here now. It's over for me.
Girl: So, what are you guys doing tonight?
Me: I'll probably just keep drinking until I'm blind. (where do I come up with this shit?)
You see, Zack is moving to Philadelphia today to begin a new job, so last night required an extra bit of stupidity to send him off.
Enter Dan's Cafe.
Dan's is a true dive bar at the end of the main strip in Adam's Morgan. If you didn't know where it was, you likely would assume the building is either condemned or a strip joint. There are no windows, no real signage and when you walk inside, you know exactly why. At Dan's, when you order a mixed drink, you don't get "a mixed drink"...you get a bottle of the liquor you requested (they pour it into a glass now), a bucket of ice, a can of the mixer, and a glass. You can not pay with anything other than cash and the bartender looks like he just got out of prison. If you would like a shot, you basically get a syrup vase full of the liquor you wanted and shot glasses. Bluntly, if you wanna get shitty, Dan's will let you do that.
So we get to Dan's last night, after several games of NCAA Basketball '05 during pre-gaming, and are lucky enough to get an area at the end of the bar. We order up our first round of Capt. & Coke cans, and soak in the greatness that is Dan's. Surprisingly for such a dive, there are usually a decent number of good looking women to look at and occassionally talk to. This is where things get retarded.
Now, anyone that has gone out drinking with me will tell you that I can basically talk to anyone for an extended period of time. The key here is "can" as opposed to actually wanting to. Most of the time, I'm not really looking to engage in any conversations with girls. I have a girlfriend who lives with me, and I'm not trying to make my life any more stressful by sneaking around. But that doesn't mean I can't talk. And with talking at a bar, comes the fun of making shit up.
I don't know these people, I'm never going to see them again, so why not be a Bowie Baysox minor league shortstop or a Playboy photographer (Zack's gotten to use this one before) or even the less exotic construction worker or school bus driver. I feel each one is it's own great adventure, and some times I really get into the character. It keeps me entertained. Actually, the whole pool guy thing has its own fun, feel free to use it in the future...you've got some of the stories right here.
Though I have pulled this shit many times in the past, I had never claimed to be anything related to the Military. This is for two reasons: 1) I have respect for these people and to impersonate being them is somewhat disrespectful to what they have gone through, especially now & 2) There tend to be military people out in the bars and if they caught me in a lie, I'm pretty sure they'd beat my ass
However, last night, I got pulled into a military hook by my friend Skeeter and even when I told the girls that I wasn't in the military, they still didn't believe me. Again, this is against my better judgment and I mean no disrespect to the men who are serving our country and dying every day... but if these girls are that dumb, let the games begin. (I'm going to hell)
So, here's how my story goes: I'm out of the military now, did my time in Iraq on morque duty, "You know, baggin and taggin" I didn't see much direct action, most of the time I'm just going in after something has occurred and moved on, to grab the bodies of anyone left behind, with a separate unit.
Scared? Yeah, it's scary. You're hearing gunshots going off all the time. You never know where. But you just have to deal with it. I'd really prefer we not talk about it much. I had to do my time, it paid for my way through school and now I'm back on team Civilian.
What do I do now? Back to reality...a beautiful seque and we appear to be home free. Focus on the true stuff more, and it sells the lies. (I'm such a dick.)
This went on for a bit longer, but all in all a pretty good lie, based on the truths of one of my co-workers. Another key to a good lie...if you know someone who does something, retell their stories and you're set. (Truly, going to hell)
Nothing came of the discussions, but my friends were enjoying the show. Eventually the girls left, so that I could yell at Skeeter for making me pull that shit.
But I can't deny, it's always fun...and this was my highlight that I'll leave you with:
Girl: So, did it like mess with your mind or anything? I have a friend who cuts himself now that he's back.
Me: Nah, nah. I don't feel any different. I've got the memories, but I'm here now. It's over for me.
Girl: So, what are you guys doing tonight?
Me: I'll probably just keep drinking until I'm blind. (where do I come up with this shit?)
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Top 10: Who Said That?
No Fuzzy Memory this week, sorry. But I won't leave you without one of my structured posts. This week, I bring you into my vernacular with:
The Top 10 Movie & TV Quotes I Use in Everyday Life
10) Kenneth's mom made Kim-Chu Chicken "It's reeeaally good." (Kenneth Park from Harold & Kumar)
9) "I love you man, but you're crazy" (Frank from Old School)
8) "You're fucking gay" (Stiffler from American Pie)
7) "Screw you guys...I'm going home" (Cartman from South Park)
6) "T-t-t-today, junior" (Billy Madison)
5) "Well....aaallllrrriiiggghhhtttt." (Mathew McConaughey in Dazed & Confused, I think)
4) "I'm gonna go pinch a loaf, and when I get back, this place better be cleaned up." (a guard from Shawshank Redemption...I know, random, but it has many uses)
3) "...Bitch." (Dave Chapelle)
2) "Sweet Fucking Christ!" (Brodie from Mallrats)
1) "God!!" (Napoleon Dynamite)
The Top 10 Movie & TV Quotes I Use in Everyday Life
10) Kenneth's mom made Kim-Chu Chicken "It's reeeaally good." (Kenneth Park from Harold & Kumar)
9) "I love you man, but you're crazy" (Frank from Old School)
8) "You're fucking gay" (Stiffler from American Pie)
7) "Screw you guys...I'm going home" (Cartman from South Park)
6) "T-t-t-today, junior" (Billy Madison)
5) "Well....aaallllrrriiiggghhhtttt." (Mathew McConaughey in Dazed & Confused, I think)
4) "I'm gonna go pinch a loaf, and when I get back, this place better be cleaned up." (a guard from Shawshank Redemption...I know, random, but it has many uses)
3) "...Bitch." (Dave Chapelle)
2) "Sweet Fucking Christ!" (Brodie from Mallrats)
1) "God!!" (Napoleon Dynamite)
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