Crazy Bitch

As I mentioned a couple posts ago, this past weekend I took Danielle to go see the Wizard of Oz, which was showing at the Warner Theater. I also bought my older brother and his wife tickets and we all got together and had dinner at Tenpenh in DC beforehand.

Overall, the food was great and the performance was OK. The show was obviously tailoring to a broad audience, and having just gotten back from Disney World, I was kind of sick of the child-friendly performances, but I can't complain. There were a few new things that differed from the movie I remembered, including the poppies (the flowers that make Dorothy fall asleep) having their own dance number, and the Wicked Witch referring to her servant guards as winkies. This was humorous to me as that was the term we used instead of "penis" back when I was a kid...and they were wearing round purple helmets. he he. I know, I'm basically twelve.

In any case, that was probably the "dirtiest" moment of the evening up til that point, so I was having some good old fashioned wholesome fun.

And then Danielle and I left the company of my brother and his wife to continue our evening at Rocket Bar for my friend's birthday. And that's when the G-rated evening ended and the R-rated moment occurred.

If you've never been to Rocket Bar, it's a relatively large, though somewhat hidden sports bar in Gallery Place, across the street from Verizon Center. It's a good place to get drinks, play shuffleboard, play pool, and watch random chicks rub themselves while singing a song that's playing on the jukebox. Wait...what!!???

Yep, so we've been there for about an hour before I go to grab a second (or fourth...who's counting) round of drinks. As I'm making my way to the bar, the last song ends and "Crazy Bitch" by Buckcherry starts playing. I'm a big fan of this particular song...and apparently so is this chick at the end of the bar.

As I'm waiting for the bartender I glance over to see this girl kneeling on the bar stool next to a guy (her boyfriend/man of the evening?) gyrating up and down while singing along and rubbing all over her stomach and chest like a stripper. Mind you, she's got all her clothes on, but she has a tight shirt and big boobs, so not much is left to the imagination. What makes this such a priceless moment is the fact that she is singing along to this song. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, here's an excerpt of the most often repeated lines:

Hey, you're a crazy bitch
But you fuck so good, I'm on top of it.
When I dream, I'm doing you all night.
Scratches all down my back to keep me right on.

It always amazes me how women love songs that denegrate women, and will sing along to them as well. I remember when I was in college, playing DJ at my fraternity parties, and one of the songs that would get the biggest reaction of cheers from the women was "Gimme that Nut" by Easy-E. I swear to god. Women would be screaming like it was freakin "Dancing Queen" or some shit, all the while singing along to such memorable lines as:

Now my dick's on hard ya know what I'm thinkin'
Took tha panties off and the pussy wasn't stinkin'

and:

Okay back back to the fuckin' basics
You got yours and mine ya want tah taste it
Open wide oh no don't 'cha waste it
Oh shit all over ya face kid

I'm pretty sure if that song had come on, this girl at the end of the bar would have been all over it and likely would have taken her top off and swung it 'round her head (like a helicopter) as well. It didn't, and I grabbed my drinks and left, happy to have seen not one, but two shows this particular evening.

One starring a wicked witch, and one starring a crazy bitch. But they both probably ended with some happy winkies.

Stock in Curry

These are tough financial times we're living in. Many banks have been bought up, including my bank, Chevy Chase, which just got bought by Capital One; stocks dropped at alarming rates and continue to show no signs of recovery. The housing market is in shambles. And unemployment is rising to points not seen in over 30 years.

And so too, is the J-Man seeing these problems at home. My stocks in my retirement and savings funds have dropped almost 40% this year. My savings account APY is down to like 1%. ING Direct isn't doing me much better. My house just got reappraised for 2% lower than what I paid for it 4 years ago (and I'm actually thankful it was only that). And at work, I had to lay off more guys than usual for fear that business may drop off next Spring.

So in times like these, where should we be putting our money?...in Stephen Curry. While all these other investments are dropping or barely gaining, the money in my sportsbook.com account has increased by 1300% since March, mostly on the back of Davidson basketball and Steph Curry. And just yesterday, as Curry lead the Davidson Wildcats past WVU in the Jimmy V Classic in NYC, my "portfolio" increased over 9%. Why do the odds makers continue to undervalue this stock?

Davidson was ranked 22nd coming into the game, West Virginia was not ranked. Curry is the top scorer in the nation despite not scoring in the retarded defense game against Loyola (MD). And Davidson was a 2-point underdog?! The money line was paying +110, meaning for every $100 you bet, if Davidson wins, you win $110. Seemed like a no-brainer. Like asking an ugly chick if she wants to go home with you at 2 AM. Or asking your fat friend if he wants to grab McDonalds.

Now, don't get me wrong, I was cursing at the TV as Curry fired up brick after brick early on, but what any good investor will tell you is, don't look at a stock during the day, it's gonna go up and down. You're in it for the long haul. And the long haul ended with Davidson, and Curry, coming back, dazzling everyone with some clutch threes, and pulling out a 3-point win.

This is probably how those dirty people I see wandering around Atlantic City get started, but Curry hasn't let me down thusfar. Relax, I'm not gonna throw all my money into Davidson bets and end up like them. But for now, there's no better bet out there than Steph Curry. Man, that kid is good.

Next up, Chattanooga...I'm guessing we'll be 14 point favorites. I'll take that.

Changes for the Holidays

There's a strange phenomenon that occurs as you get older around the Holidays. The status quo of family getting together for Thanksgiving and Christmas doesn't stay as the status quo any longer. Over the past few years, these two Holidays vaguely resemble the Holidays that I remember as a child growing up. Instead of my parents, my grandmother, and my brothers gathered around a Thanksgiving table or in my parent's living room opening the slew of presents my grandmother usually brings, there's someone missing.

This past Thanksgiving, my older brother and his wife were in Massachusetts. My younger brother and his fiance were in attendance, but only after the pleading of my mother. Last Thanksgiving, I was down in St. Kitts with Jaclyn, and now Christmas is up for a giant overhaul this year.

You see, the past three years, my older brother and his wife have celebrated Christmas with her family, as they have experienced the losses of her father and brother over this same time, and it just seemed right for them to be with the remaining family. Not wanting to miss out on Christmas all together, they would put together a pseudo-Christmas a couple of days beforehand, have the rest of the family over, cook a dinner, open just their presents and give out all the presents they had bought.

That was once again their plan for this year. But now my younger brother has indicated that he and his fiance will be at her family's place in Dunkirk for most of Christmas day. That would leave a four person Christmas as my parent's house. Not quite the merriest of times.

However, this is to be expected. As a half-Jewish family, Christmas has been of slightly less significance than it would be for my brother's wives' families, who are Catholic. When push comes to shove, they've got the trump card...his name is Jesus.

But I think this is the case for all families. At some point, a transition must be made. Hell, my grandmother comes to my parent's house every year. At some point, a shift occurred from having it at her house, like my mother had done since she was a child. But now it's a bit more complicated, because there are three sons involved, instead of one daughter. And of course, there's my dad, who's Jewish, and wants no part of Christmas from a religious standpoint.

So, what can be done?

We're moving Christmas.

Yes, sorry, Jesus. I know you were born on December 25 and all (at least that's what I think is the case...I was raised Jewish), but that just doesn't quite work into our schedule. How about we squeeze you in on the 21st? You see, I don't want to give up my Saturday night, so let's shoot for a Sunday?

Obviously, my grandmother is having fits over this, but here's the reality of it. Christmas for my family has been about getting everyone together. We don't sing Christmas Carols. We don't say prayers or go to church. We don't even mention Jesus.

However, we do open presents at a feverish pace, climaxing with all the men collapsing on the couch with piles of wrapping paper strewn everywhere, dogs fighting over their new chewies, and my grandmother going on and on about how we're tough to buy for now, and we can return anything if we don't like it, as she's left the gift receipts in the boxes. Then we eat pigs in a blanket, watch basketball, and eventually gather for a dinner highlighted by a Honey Baked Ham. (Yes, ham...I told you, we're half Jewish)

So, if that's what we do, let's just do it on a different day, so that everyone can be a part of it.

And that's our plan. So, on December 21, while you're sitting at home watching the NFL on TV like it's any other Sunday, or en route to your own parents' house for the holidays, we'll be making a mess of my house (yeah, we're switching venues too...it's closer for my brothers and I've got a real tree we just decorated on Friday), yelling at dogs, and eating two separate products made of meat from a pig. All the while, saying Merry Christmas.

Yeah, it'll be the wrong day, but for the first time in a couple years, with all my family there, it may just feel like the way I remembered it.

And then I'll light the menorah for the first night of Hannukah, send my grandma into a fit of anger, sparking an argument with my dad, and my mom will start crying.

Yep, sounds like Christmas.

Brain Farts 14

I'm being completely unmotivated to write on my blog recently, and now that I've started going to the gym again (we'll see how long this lasts), I've got a new pasttime to kill my energy. In any case, if I'm gonna keep my writing fluids flowing so that one day I can write that book I've been working on since 1999, I've gotta keep it going. And speaking of fluids flowing, why not a spattering of crap in my typical form...the Brain Farts. Not quite the full shit, but still entertaining.

• So, as some of you were aware, Danielle and I went to Disney World two weekends ago. She has tons of friends down there since she lived there for 4 years and worked at the park. Needless to say, the benefits of this, and the fact that Danielle is still technically considered an employee of Disney were outstanding. We stayed at the Disney Boardwalk hotel for 1/2 price. Entered the parks for free. Got discounts on all the food and merchandise. And still stood in crappy lines like everyone else. Well, guess you can't get everything...I ain't complaining. Just remember, the week prior to Thanksgiving is apparently a week parents aren't afraid to take their kids out of school for.
• A couple weeks ago I saw a pickup truck leaving the Home Depot parking lot with probably 10 Spanish people in it. For those of you not aware, you can pick up day laborers in the Home Depot parking lot in Silver Spring. There's also a bunch on Little River Turnpike, down by where I have my bowling league in Falls Church (got some great stories about some run-ins with these guys). In any case, it was during this last spectacle that I came up with this epiphany: Pick-up trucks are the clown cars of the Spanish. (Yes, I'm going to hell)
• I just found the greatest bread I've ever bought from a grocery store. It was at Harris Teeter in Rockville, and it's called the Rosemary Olive Oil Round. It is amazing. There is no joke here...it was just a really good bread, so I bought a loaf and soon I will eat it all with the dipping oils I got from the Food & Entertainment show from a few weeks back.
• My PS3 is still broken because I am unwilling to give in to the fact that I have to pay for a repair within the 1st year of owning because I threw away the receipt. Fuck you Sony. I hope all your crappy shit goes the way of BETA tapes.
• I was out at Union Jacks last Friday with my buddy Dave and we came upon a large group of people there celebrating their 5 year reunion. They were from the Churchill class of 2003. The high school class of 2003 was celebrating their 5 year reunion!! At a bar!!! 2003!!! I felt like Matthew McConaughey in "Dazed and Confused", which BTW, came out when these kids were like 8 years old.

And now, if you'll excuse me, it's almost 5 PM. Time for me to change my Depends and head over to Sizzler for the early bird special before my bridge club gets together. Later.

Spare Microwave

Earlier tonight, I was laying in bed when I started to get hungry. I hadn't eaten dinner yet, so I dragged myself out of bed, headed down to my kitchen and checked the fridge. In there, I saw my leftover Chinese food from Monday night. Perfect. I'll just heat that up in the microwave and I'll be set in a couple minutes.

I grabbed the food out, poured it onto a plate, put the plate in the microwave, and closed the microwave door. But then I noticed it. The clock was not on. A quick look over at the oven showed that its clock was working fine. I checked to see if the microwave had come unplugged, but it was still in place. Odd.

So, I headed downstairs to see if maybe the breaker that controls that outlet had tripped. Why not? Sure enough, I get down there and find a breaker tripped, I reset it, and I'm back up to the kitchen. But the microwave clock is still not on. I lower my view to the toaster over below which is plugged into a separate outlet and turn its knob. Light comes on...this outlet works. I am determined to eat this chinese food so I snake the microwave cord out of its normal spot, grab the microwave and lower it so the cord can reach this obviously functional outlet. I plug it in...and no power still.

I've been taking some drugs for the past couple days to combat a head cold that I likely got standing and sitting in the freezing cold of the Skins game on Sunday night, so despite this set back, I'm relatively unfazed. Looks like the microwave is broken.

So, I pull it off the counter and set it on the floor in the kitchen to be thrown away at a later date. I walk back downstairs to my storage closet, move some boxes and Christmas decorations, and grab my spare microwave.

I carry it back upstairs to the kitchen, plug it in to the easiest accessible outlet, and pop my Chinese food in. A minute and a half later and I'm enjoying my food. Overall, the whole exchange took about 15 minutes, so I didn't get my food as fast as I originally wanted it...which sucks. But, at least I got my food, right?



So, you're probably sitting there reading this going, "why in the fuck do you have a spare microwave??!!" when you should really be asking yourself, "how pissed would I have been if I didn't have that spare microwave??!!"

Not So Green

Two Saturdays ago, Danielle and I decided to go to the Food & Entertainment festival down at the Convention Center. It was advertised to have plenty of food samples and presentations by Giada, Bobby Flay, and Paula Dean. I love food, so this seemed like a no-brainer. And what also worked out nicely was the fact that Danielle was actually going to be working at the Green Festival at the exact same time, in the exact same building. Small world. However, this would also mean that I would have to go to the Green Festival.

Yes, I went to the Green Festival.

When it comes to being green, I would have to say I'm pretty much a faded shade of red (color wheel humor...gotta love it). I rarely recycle; I leave lights and my computer on often; I eat anything, regardless of how it was killed, harvested or prepared; and I send out 5 Ford vans and a diesel truck to pollute our air each and every day. But since I'm at the festival, why not check it out?

So, on Saturday afternoon, I made my way down to the Convention Center. I checked in as a guest of Danielle's company and walked into the giant hall on my way to find her. What I found was a different world. It's funny how the majority of people from different professions and backgrounds tend to look more or less the same. I go to the Pool & Spa Show every year and there's just this "look" that the majority of pool guys tend to have. If you went to Atlantic City during this time, you could definitely pick out a large portion of the attendees. Well, it seems people in the "Green" professions are in the same boat.

You've got your fair share of people with dread locks here and a spattering of wool caps with the extended part that comes over their ears and has string at the end (you know what I'm talking about). And then, don't ask me why, but I have never seen more people with long, curly, somewhat unmaintained hair, and scarves before in my life. If you care about the Earth, are you required to wear a scarf? It wasn't even all that cold on Saturday. But I digress.

After passing the Kashi stand, and the T-shirt vendor with the George Bush shirt with the words "International Terrorist" underneath his picture, I finally located Danielle and her co-workers at their booth. After a few quick words, we took off for the Food & Entertainment festival, as we figured we'd backtrack to the Green Festival since she needed to help clean up.

We get to the Food Festival, walk around trying all different dipping oils and creamy dips, cookies, chocolates, smoothies, and cheeses. And then I see it. The closed off area in the center. Yes, there is a beer, wine, and liquor portion to this festival. Why did I not figure this ahead of time?!! Almost an hour was wasted tasting all these dips, with no signs of a drink...and here it was. It was like an oasis in the middle of the Sahara (congrats to my buddy Rick, BTW, who just completed a super-race through the Sahara).

So, of course, we paid the extra money to get inside. And of course, I pretty much tried every beer, I did try every liquor, and I sampled some of the white wines. In no time, I'm sporting a solid buzz and Danielle still needs to get back to work.

We make a quick stop to play with some fake snow. Seriously, I don't know what this stuff was, but with just a little water, a white powder turned into legitimate, cold snow flakes...that wouldn't melt. You'd squeeze the crap out of the snow and it would just squirt through your fingers. Crazy stuff. I didn't buy any, but I was tempted. I was also tempted to buy dips and dipping oil...and I caved.

Now back to the Green Festival. And I've got a nice buzz working. So, after dropping Danielle back off at her kiosk, I took a tour of the whole festival. And what should I happen upon in a matter of minutes...vegan ice cream.

Now, it sounds like a bad idea from the get go, but I've had a few drinks, how bad can it be. And they have Kool-Aid flavor. I'll take one...$3.

How bad can it be?? I'll tell you. This stuff tasted like if it were possible to leave ice cream out on your counter for a week, not have it melt, but just get stale and hard, like a loaf of bread. Add to that an almost grainy texture and an aftertaste that had me contemplating eating the organic dog food samples that I got for Chloe, just to get rid of the taste. It would be like insisting someone fart in your car after someone else took their shoes off, just to counteract the smell. Or drinking urine after ordering a brownie and being given a turd instead. The color my face likely turned was the closest to green that I was planning to be on this particular day.

So I gave it to Danielle's vegan co-worker.

She loved it.

Guess I'm not quite cut out to being green, though I actually recycled for the first time in like two years last Friday. And with this cold weather coming in, maybe it's time I started wearing a scarf?? Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

The Bus Man

I've taken a bit of a hiatus from the blog after that last debacle but I saw something hilarious today and had to pass this image along to everyone.

I'm driving down Old Georgetown road in the left lane (of three) and end up getting stopped at a light. In the far right lane is a metro bus. After sitting for a second at the light, I look over at the bus and realize that there is no one on the bus. No one except the driver.

And he's standing at the back door facing towards the sidewalk.

And the door is open.

And then he adjusts and walks back to the seat as the light turns green.

Yes, the bus driver got up, walked to the back door, and while still standing on the bus took a piss in the direction of the sidewalk. OUTSTANDING! You just don't see that everyday.

Well, I don't...maybe you do.

Calmer Words from J-Man

First off, I would like to apologize if any of my past politically related posts were offensive to anyone, especially any of my friends. That was not my intent, as all of my posts are intended to be humorous and very light hearted.

I believe I over-reacted to the negative feedback that I received from my post about election day, and being told that "I suck" or that "I'm a loser" from random people who came across my blog. I should have been the bigger man and recognized that there are people out there that are going to write what they want to write, just like I write what I want. I have the ability to delete the comments that I don't like, and I should have simply done that and moved along. In any case, I have temporarily removed some of those posts, to avoid any future conflict.

And lastly, as to being called a racist, while I have on occassion in past posts including these most recent ones made racially inspired jokes, they are merely intended for humor and are not to be taken seriously.

I am a white Jewish man, and I have many friends and past girlfriends of varying ethnicities. I have an African American and a Puerto Rican brother-in-law and from them I have 9 nieces and nephews. I work a blue collar job and the people I work with are of every nationality. In all cases, whether it be my friends, my family, or my co-workers, we make fun of each other, as I am the "stingy jew", and they are the "lazy Mexican," "Fat Albert," or the Indian guy who should be working at the 7-11 instead. Is it politically correct?...probably not. But we don't mean it...these are my friends. And I would consider "most" of the people that read this blog, regardless of whether I actually know you, my friends.

If I overstepped my bounds in any of the past blogs, again I apologize. If I do it again, please give me constructive comments, rather than "you suck." I don't react well to that type of criticism. Thank you.

Top 10: Uh Oh-bama

Well, with the monumental election of our new President, and the subsequent dancing and high-fiving in the street, you'd assume great things were afoot. However, we're two days into the new era and to be honest, I'm not seeing much of a "change." Perhaps I need to wait until inauguration, but with all the celebration, I was expecting something extraordinary to happen already.

And since I'm not seeing that, I thought I'd give you all the:

Top 10 Signs We May Not Have Made the Best Move Voting Obama President
10) There's still traffic on the beltway: Surely this should have stopped by now...what's up with that?!!
9) The Dow Jones has dropped for 2 straight days: Wouldn't you assume that dancing in the street segued into new faith that the market is gonna turn around?! I know, I did too. What went wrong??
8) Now everyone that voted for McCain has to look around like they're about to tell a racial joke before they mention that they didn't vote for Obama: "You voted for McCain?? I didn't know you were a member of the KKK."
7) We lost in our playoff game in bowling: Yeah, we were winning before Obama was elected. I see no other possible reasons.
6) The Redskins lost to the Steelers: If Obama had just conceded the election ahead of time, the encumbent party and therefore the Skins would have won the game and had a much stronger position in the Wild Card chase. Thanks alot!
5) It's dark at 5 PM: Anthing is possible right? Can we keep the sun up a little longer, please?...YES, WE CAN. Let's make that happen already.
4) They're gonna have to rename the White House: Wait...you thought it was named after the color of the building???
3) Fred Armisen does a really bad Barrack Obama: Now we have to deal with 4 years of crappy SNL parities when we could have enjoyed quality Tina Fey cameos.
2) Today I went to Ruby Tuesdays for lunch. The bill was $27.86. I gave the waitress $40. She brought me back $12.00!! Yes, she forgot the CHANGE!!!
1) Now African American students are gonna want to leave college after one year to join...Politics! So long OJ Mayo, Hello OJ Mayor.


And if you really think any of these are serious, you need to lighten up.

J-Man goes Camping (sort of)

As I mentioned in a past post, this past weekend I was going camping for the first time in my life. The plan was for me to drive over to Danielle's around 9:30 on Saturday morning and we would caravan from there along with two other carloads all the way to Mt. Jackson, VA to the cabin of her graduate program director.

Seems like a good plan. Probably would have been good to get a good night's sleep the night before, but instead a low key night grabbing a few beers with Dave turned into a 2 AM drunken shitshow where I seemed to run into a bunch of different friends at a variety of bars, including a trip to a new one, Sasso, that I had never been to before. In any case, the 8:15 AM wakeup was rougher than expected, but I grab a bagel sandwich and headed to College Park right on time. What was also right on time, was my need to take a morning shit right when I got to Danielle's place...therein lies the problem with drinking the night before.

Problem is, they have only one bathroom for the three roommates to share. And one of them is getting ready for the first 10 minutes I'm there waiting. Did I mention that I had not yet met the roommates, nor anyone going on this camping trip before? So, yes, I am now the guy that shows up to a new place and shits. Yep, that's me.

I finish that up and we load up Danielle's car with the gigantic tent my older brother let me borrow and the other supplies. Seriously, this tent is like 10 X 10 and I can stand completely upright inside...it's like a convention center of the tent world. It's mildly drizzling as we depart, but that quickly turns to rain on 495, pouring on 66, and monsoon on 81. Thankfully, I'm not driving, but sitting in a car for two hours after a night of drinking is never the best thing.

We pull up to the cabin, which is well secluded in the woods down a pretty windy path, and about 20 people are already there. It's your standard wooden cabin in the forest, equipped with wrap around porch, rustic kitchen, wood burning furnace, and cider press. Cider press?!

Well, that was the theme of the gathering, a Cider Fest. So, first thing you have to do is go to work. Well, actually the first thing I had to do was take a shit...again. Yes, I just pulled up to another place where I know no one, and the first thing I need to do is walk past these strangers and blow up their bathroom. Of course, it's single ply!! Why do people still use single ply? Are we really in a depression? I'm sorry, but as I've mentioned before, I have a strict ply minimum required between my ass and my hand.

After that, I'm feeling better, grab my first beer and head over to help with pressing cider. It's a pretty cool process, as you hand crank an apple crusher which sends the apple bits into a bucket below. Once you fill the bucket with apple mush, you move it to the actual press where, you turn a crank and squeeze the cider into a bucket below. It was pretty good stuff...hand made by me. See, aren't you glad I have a strict ply minimum?

After the cider making, we move on to eating, which includes a wide variety of stuff brought by all the guests. Did I mention that the program is for people studying Conservationist something & Sustainable Biology? So, basically we're talking about a lot of conservationalist, which usually means tree huggers, which usually means vegetarians. Danielle and I had a few granola and birkenstocks jokes on the way up, but I promised to withhold from any further jokes while on-site.

Anyway, there's a lot of vegetarian dishes to be passed over by me (I've shat enough today), but there's also some nice grilled Elk (first time I've ever had this), Venison, and barbeque chicken. Don't worry, all the animals are from a sustainable population...we're not eating panda here.

We finish eating and decide it's time to carve the pumpkins we got on the way up...yeah, I left that part out...it was rainy, so we ran. Anyway, Danielle gave away one of our pumpkins to her friend who didn't bring one, so we ended up sharing a pumpkin. Aaahhh, I know...how cute. Well, if you saw what we created, you wouldn't think it was that cute. We had a stencil for a pirate skull and crow bones, but the pumpkin was a little too small for the bottom part, so I had the free hand it. The result was a skull that looked like it came from either a retard or Jay Leno.

Danielle insisted it would look better once it was lit, but she was terribly wrong. I have a picture to prove it. We're getting two more pumpkins today to carve tonight, so hopefully my second attempt (she was holding me back) will be better.

Anyway, the night is soon approaching as we begin to set a bonfire, partake in a scavenger hunt, and eat some desserts. My hands are frozen from being outside all day and from holding a beer most of the time, so as darkness approaches and we realize we still haven't set up our tent, we have the discussion.

Set up the tent in the dark and sleep in the wet and cold...or get in the car and drive back to my place, jump in a warm bed, and watch the end of the Penn State-OSU game.

Thankfully, we are of the same mind, as we bolt from the cabin, stop at McDonald's so I can grab some "normal" food, and arrive at my place in time to catch the end of the 3rd quarter.

And when we woke up on Sunday morning, we both realized we made a great decision. I mean, seriously...who would want to sleep outside in the cold? It just seems stupid, when there is a perfectly warm house to sleep in instead. Did you expect something different?

I'm not saying I'll never go camping, but for now, we'll just have to wait. At least I learned how to press cider, eat elk, and fight off the desire to make a joke as Abba was being played around a campfire.

Top 10: Worst Halloween Costumes

As most of you are aware, I am a huge fan of Halloween. There are very few nights when you can dress up like a moron, go out to the bars, and pretty much start up a conversation with anyone just because. It's like on Halloween, everyone is having a big party, and we're all invited.

So, with that in mind, the next question comes...What am I going to be this year? I've had my share of classic costumes over the years, and I've seen a few great ones out at the bars. But as I try to come up with good ideas, all that pops into my head are arguably the worst costume ideas. So that got me to thinking...what would be the Worst Costume Ideas? Which leads me to this list of: (may offend...read at your own discretion)

Top 10 Worst Costume Ideas:
10) Ricky Bobby from Talladega Nights after the Crash: A simple costume which includes only tidy whities and a NASCAR helmet. It's not that bad of a costume, thus it being #10, but wearing tidy whities all night...rough. I would laugh if I saw this.
9) Derek Jeter: This is less the costume as it is where you wear it. I would love to see someone sporting this out to the bars in Boston. He's probably not making it home.
8) A pedophile/rapist/serial killer/person from Montana: Real mustache, tight jeans, jeans jacket, jeans shirt, and some creepy glasses. Add some vasoline on your face to give that greasy look and it's a winner.
7) Your mom: What if your girlfriend/wife thought it would be funny and decided to go dressed as your mom? That's not cool at all.
6) Priest with a cabbage patch kid glued to his crotch: Nothing says inappropriate like making fun of religious figures. Make sure the head is firmly attached at the crotch to give the impression of a young boy giving a BJ. As a Jew, I find this humorous...can't say others would.
5) A piece of shit: Not those corny (completely not intentional) costumes of poo with horns being "Bull Shit" and angel wings being "Holy Shit", I'm talking, what if someone wore all brown and then rubbed real shit all over themselves to make it more realistic. I would probably laugh at the craziness of it all, then vomit.
4) Muslim Terrorist: Strap on the beard, the turbin, and some fake dynamite. See how far you get.
3) KKK Member: I'd like to see if the Klansman or the Muslim gets beaten down first. My money is on Jeter in Beantown.
2) Unwanted Pregnancy under President McCain: This one's for the ladies. Pour fake blood all over your legs, wear a dress that you stuff a basketball under and then attach a clothing hanger to the inside of your thigh so it protrudes out the bottom. If you can figure out what I'm describing, you're probably appalled right now. I could actually see some douche wearing this out here in DC, however.
1) Cancer Patient: Seriously. If you saw someone with a bald head wearing a hospital gown and holding an IV bag, all you could do is shake your head in disgust. This one I hope I never see.

Yep, pretty sure I'll get a few hate comments on this one...and I didn't even put "Retard" as one of the costume ideas.

Brain Farts 13

Well, lot of little bits of info and stupid thoughts, so no full post. Instead, enjoy the Brain Farts. Not quite as satisfying as the full shit, but still amusing:

• Glad I got my cable back on this past Sunday, as my PS3 broke when the cable guy showed up. I didn't realize it at the time, but the game I was playing froze. I shut off the system in disgust and with the beauty of TV and Football Sunday there was little reason to turn it back on until yesterday...when I found out it doesn't read any discs. And Sony won't repair it under warranty because I don't have the receipt anymore. So it's gonna cost $150 to get it fixed. Why God? Why?
• I'm bored at work as things are slowing down, so I decided to amuse myself by convincing my brother to grow a mustache from now until Halloween. It'll cost me $20 if he follows through on it, but calling him Freddy Mercury and Magnum for the next two weeks will be worth it.
• I'm sure some conspiracy people have mentioned it before, and while I'm not trying to make a political or prejudicial statement by pointing this out, but doesn't it seem a little too crazy that you can easily transform the bumper sticker Obama Biden into Osama Bin Laden? I mean really? Did Obama have to choose a running mate whose name was that close? REALLY? I'm pretty sure every person I've EVER met could have been his running mate and the name's wouldn't have been so close. REALLY?
• Isn't it also ironic that my 13th Brain Farts comes a mere week and a half before Halloween?? No, actually it isn't.
• Speaking of Halloween, the early line on me losing either my phone, camera or wallet on Halloween night is probably around 4-1, especially given that my costume, which came yesterday, has no pockets in the "pants."

That's it for now. Back to making fun of old Rollie Fingers sitting at his desk here.

Go Camping?

I feel it only appropriate to follow my last post regarding my dependence on TV and Internet with news that for the first time in my entire life, I am going to go camping.

This coming Saturday, Danielle has invited me to come with her to a Cider Fest in Mount Jackson, VA (yeah, I don't know where that is either) that her graduate school program organizes every year. The plan is simple. Drive 2 hours to someone's cabin in the mountains, make cider to store for the following year in the morning, and then spend the rest of the afternoon and evening drinking the cider and cider wine that was made the previous year, while eating barbeque and playing games.

I think I can handle all of that stuff, as I've done all of that in the past. The trick comes at the end of the day. You see, there will be around 100 people at this Ciderfest, and there are only about 4 beds or so in the cabin. So the typical plan is for the remaining guests to pitch a tent (he he) and sleep outside.

Let me mention this again...I have never slept outside before, with the exception of my freshman year in college when I was too drunk and tired to climb the steps into my dorm building and instead fell asleep at the bottom of the stairs. In this case, I may be just as drunk, but the lead up is quite different.

I like my bed. I like my ceiling. I like a controlled temperature of 68 degrees. I like not wondering if a bear is going to eat me while I sleep. You know, the simple things.

I'm not gonna go into any further discussion of this matter at this point. I just wanted to let you all know, so that if you don't see any posts after this weekend, you can thank old Yogi for doing in the J-Man. Wish me luck...I'm sure I'll do fine...I adapt well in new environments.

Did I mention that the forecast is for rain?

No Cable??!!

I'm not dead. Though I might as well have been. You see I haven't written a post in almost a week because my cable and my internet has been out. Yes, I was without both for over four days. No warning. No time to get milk, eggs, and toilet paper. (Do weather men expect us to eat only omelettes and shit alot during snow storms?) I was stuck with this most unnatural disaster when I least expected it.

Remember that post when I mentioned the tree being removed from my neighbor's yard? Well, the next day, they took away the ground too. They dug a hole adjacent to their house that was the entire length of their house by about 6 feet wide and about 10 feet deep...exposing the entire foundation. Then they resealed the foundation or some shit, and ultimately backfilled the hole. And that is when they broke my cable.

Have you ever lived without TV? It's doable, so long as you can fill your time with internet surfing and perhaps even downloading a TV show or two. Have you ever lived without the internet? It's tough, wondering if someone is trying to email you because no one seems to want to actually talk in person any more. Do I have a new facebook friend? What's that wacky J-Man been up to?

Now, imagine being without both of them? I know, it's horrible to even think of, but I feel everyone needs to be prepared for such a disaster. I was not prepared. Emails went unanswered. College football scores went unknown. Porn went unwatched.

I literally had the feeling that I had no electricity, despite the lights being on. Like I was in some foreign prison camp. I might as well have lit a candle to walk around my house, eat food out of a can, and shit in my backyard. Seriously though, it is amazing how dependent on my computer and TV I have become. Earlier in the day, I was mocking my friend Edwin about living without his cell. phone only to arrive home and find my connection luxuries missing as well. I truly felt like I was missing something. Like the world was going on while I sat in a box.

You would think that without the distraction of the TV and internet, I would have taken the opportunity to be productive. Like the Simpsons episode where all the kids go outside and start playing. I, however, am far too entrenched in my laziness. I did what any normal man without internet and cable would do. Do Laundry? Nope. Read a book? Nope. Take my dog for more walks? Nope.

I played Madden. It was the only way to stave off insanity. I need the glow of the screen...I crave it.

Beermania

This is less a post as it is a public service announcement to all of my friends that love beer. Back when I went to Charlotte a couple weeks back, we ended up going to the Blackfinn down there. When we walked in one night, I noticed these giant containers of beer sitting on all the tables. It most closely resembles a bong (the smoking kind), but sits about three feet tall with a tap on the bottom. It is full of beer!

So fast forward to this past Saturday night, I head to Blackfinn here in Bethesda to watch the Penn State game with a bunch of people. And that's when I see it on the menu. The "Tower" of beer. And it's on special. 120 ounces of beer for $15. So we order one. Then another. Then four more. Yes, five girls and I killed 720 ounces of beer. Actually, Danielle and I polished off a pitcher before we ordered our first tower, since there was only two of us there at that point. Needless to say, insanity was had by all and I have now found the greatest deal in Beer since the 40 oz. bottles for $5 at the sports bar at the Tropicana in AC.

I'll see you out there.

You Just Can't Win

As I've already brought up in the last post, I ended up staying at Rocket Bar on Friday night as opposed to making my rounds to hopefully meet up with my other friends randomly positioned around the city. What I didn't mention was the fact that I realized that regardless of what I do, if I talk to a woman at a bar, I'm a dick. Here's how it went down.

We roll into Rocket Bar and head to the back corner area of the second bar, over by the shuffle board table. My friend Stephen is pretty tanked and apparently can't control himself when he sees a birthday cake sitting at a table here, and helps himself. Thankfully, the birthday crowd is more than willing to share their cake, and ironically one of the members of the party went to high school with me. I talked to her for a bit, found out it was her boyfriend's birthday and then begin talking with her friend, Kara, for the next 20-30 minutes.

As I've mentioned in past blog entries, I could probably talk to a deaf monkey for hours, so I'm really not sure if I was being charming or what, but after some time, I feel it is best I move on so as not to lead this girl on. I head over to play shuffleboard, and Eric asks me what happened with the girl. He's disappointed in me for walking away as he thought she was pretty hot, and as their entire group left the area, it appears as if I've heard the last from her.

Or not. About an hour later, I'm still playing shuffleboard (I'm apparently getting better at this game) when I get a tap on the shoulder. It's Kara. She's come back to let me know that she's heading out, and when we get to that awkward moment when I don't know what to do, I cave. I ask her if I can get her number so maybe we can hang out some time in the future.

Eric sees this exchange and later comes up to me to inquire about my getting her number.

Eric: So, I saw that girl came back.
Me: Yep, she wanted to say goodbye.
Eric: You get her number?
Me: Yeah.
Eric: So, you gonna call her?
Me: Probably not.
Eric: You're such a dick.

Yes, I am a dick. I didn't want to be. But, yes, ladies, I am apparently "that guy" at the bar that gets your number and never calls. I tried the avoidance technique earlier, but I just couldn't withstand the pressure of awkwardness. Perhaps I need to be stronger in the future to avoid being a dick.

Well, wouldn't you know it. The future comes faster than one would expect. Apparently, I'm throwing mad mojo this particular night, as a new girl appears and I end up talking with her as well. She's on the same side as me playing shuffleboard (now, I'm a pro) so we're just talking that usual shuffleboard shit talk. Anyway, the place closes down, and Eric, G-Man, this girl, her friend, and I all head to the metro. This girl is actually a friend of Eric's, so I'm just thinking we're all leaving together to be friendly.

We wait at the metro for a while, get on the train, and she sits next to me. Everyone else is sitting in their own seat. Uh oh. Awkward moment is coming. Be strong J-Man. Be strong. Her stop is the first one we come to, and as the train starts to slow, I say, 'it was nice meeting you.' Didn't ask for her number. Staying strong.

A few minutes pass and we continue on our trip up the red line. At this point, the girl's friend turns to me and we have this exchange:

Her: Why didn't you ask for her number?
Me: Because I have no intention of calling her. (blunt, but true)
Her: Wow, you're a dick.

Yes, apparently I am a dick. Regardless of what I do, I am indeed a dick.

You just can't win.

Double Dipped

I don't know what it is about this weekend, but it seems as if all of my friends are doing something and none of them are doing it together. I think it is the downfall of having several groups of friends, that for one reason or another are just not friends with each other. Last night was the beginning of Double Dip weekend, but it gets even worse tonight. Here's how it went down.

Several weeks ago, my friend Amber invited me to see an art presentation of some photographs that she took that are being put on display. They were having a wine and cheese presentation for the opening night last night, and I had told her I'd make it when she first brought it up.

Weeks pass, I have no daily planner, and an email comes through from my friend Eric that we can get free tickets to the Wizards pre-season game since we have a ticket plan during the regular season. He's gonna get tickets for a bunch of us, and it's a friend of his's birthday, so we'll make a night of it. He's friends with Amber, and my brother is also on board for this, so this must be a different night. Sounds fun, I'm in.

And then I realize the two are on the same night. Uh oh.

Rewind to about a month and a half ago, and my friend Greg sends me an email that he's got a group of people heading to the USA vs. Cuba soccer game tonight at RFK. Sounds like a fun time, I'm in. I find out later that week that my friend Nicole and some of her friends are going as well. Sweet.

Weeks pass, I obviously still have no daily planner, and Danielle mentions that she and some friends of hers are planning to watch the Penn State game in Bethesda (for my benefit) so that I can meet these old friends of hers. I like Bethesda, I like football, I like meeting new people...I'm in.

And then I realize the two are on the same night. Uh oh.

So last night rolls around, I've spoken with Amber and she's OK with me not coming to the show, as she's a bit embarrassed about the whole thing, but she wants me to meet up with them after the show, and the game, in Bethesda. Seems like a good plan.

Meanwhile, Danielle has gotten terrible news that her grandfather has had a stroke and some further ailments make it somewhat necessary that she take a trip up the Pittsburgh this weekend to see him. Well, I already cancelled going to the soccer game, as I'm not much of a soccer fan, so that's out of the loop. But wouldn't you know it, my friend Kalyn emails me later that day that it's my friend Chris's birthday and they're going out in Adam's Morgan. My other two plans fell through, I'm in.

Then I get home after work yesterday and my friend David emailed that it's his brother, and my friend, Colin's birthday this week, as well, and they're having a party for him in Adam's Morgan at Bourbon. I'm gonna be in Adam's Morgan for Chris's thing, let's double dip.

But then Danielle calls me and tells me that her grandfather is doing much better and she doesn't have to go home after all.

Uh oh.

So, here's what has ended up happening thusfar:

Last night, I went to the Wizards game as planned and texted Amber after the game to check on whether they were actually going out in Bethesda afterward. We're doing OK thusfar. I don't hear back immediately, so I get pulled into going to Rocket Bar near the Verizon Center and hanging out there. Meanwhile, my buddy Greg is in the same neighborhood at Proof, but I can't go there since I'm underdressed, so I invite him to meet up since I'm missing the soccer thing on Saturday. He mentions that Nicole is also going out tonight, so I see if she's interested in going to Rocket Bar.

Apparently, I have my eggs in way too many baskets. Next thing I know, Greg shows up at Rocket Bar, Amber texts me an hour and a half later that she is out in Bethesda, and Nicole texts that she's going out in Adam's Morgan. I'm drunk at this point, so I pull the obvious (and least popular) move. I stay at Rocket Bar.

So I imagine Amber is pissed (sorry) and Nicole is slighted (sorry)...but hey, J-Man is but one man.

Honestly though, when does it ever work out that you leave one bar during prime hours (11:30 PM - 1:30 AM) and successfully meet up with a second group? It's just an impossibility. It's like when you buy a fish from the pet store to put in your aquarium. Most of the time, the fish is going to die, but in all cases, the fish is gonna feel out of place and have to stay in his little bag with his own water for a while just to get situated. Huh?

Anyway, on to tonight. Now that Danielle's thing is back on, I feel it only appropriate that I go with her. I've learned from the past that when in doubt, please the one you see the most often. So I will be heading to Black Finn in about an hour and a half, while missing out on a soccer match and two birthdays in Adam's Morgan. Thankfully, I've started covering my tracks and talking to the people who will be wondering where I am.

And with this double dipping disaster, I have now established a new precedent. I am not committing to doing anything. You want me to meet you for a birthday...I'll see what I can do. Drinks after work...It's possible. Sporting event...I'll check my calendar and get back to you.

Or maybe I'll just start being more of a dick and cut down the number of friends I have. So, you, the guy or girl reading this...I've been meaning to tell you...go fuck yourself.

Tree??

Have you ever woken up from a nap and something didn't seem quite right with what you were seeing, and you questioned whether you were actually awake or not? Most often, I have the disoriented feeling of not knowing where I am for a bit, or not knowing what day of the week it is. However, just a few minutes ago, I woke up from a 20 minute nap and seemed fine as I walked to my basement to let my brother's dog (who I'm watching this afternoon) and Chloe outside.

I opened up the door and in order to get Jasper to go out with Chloe, I had to walk outside as well. And then something seemed odd. After living in my house for over 4 years now, I have become accustomed to seeing the same thing when I walked outside. Why shouldn't I? Behind my house is my fence, and only about 15 feet from there is the side of my neighbors house. And between the two is a big evergreen tree. Isn't there? Am I awake? Because there is no evergreen there any more. I'm sure it was there just the other day. It's a freakin tree!!! How did it just disappear and I didn't even hear anything? How long was I asleep?

Unfortunately, I'm not dreaming and now it appears as if my view from my back deck is squarely at the side of my neighbor's house. That'll teach me to take a nap.

Brain Farts 12

Well, I've got a couple things that I want to touch on, and some of them aren't really worth a full post, so I figured I'd just throw them in in my typical fashion, the Brain Farts. Not quite as satisfying as the full shit, but still humorous.

• I was watching the Presidential debate last night and I couldn't help noticing that in his shiny black suit, and with his arm issue and waddling walk, John McCain strongly resembled the Penguin. I hope at some point, someone gives him a top hat and long cigarette thing to complete the look.
• I also don't know if I would vote for either candidate seeing as they haven't grasped the concept of "one minute" or even understand how a stop light works. Even Tom Brokaw was getting irritated.
• Last night, I got to see my friend Zack's baby, Mikayla. I was able to hold her for a bit and surprisingly she was not crying or fussing during this exchange. While, I like babies and know enough about how to take care of them from general knowledge and my psych classes in college, I would not consider myself an expert on baby handling. However, it never fails that whenever a baby is around, there's some older mother, whose kids are now grown, that has to chime in that she "knows" how to calm a baby. And nothing amuses me more than when this "expert" asks to hold the baby and the baby proceeds to scream like it's being held by a barbed wire fence. And yes, this happened right after I passed off Mikayla. J-Man - 1, Old Mother - 0
• Did anyone else not notice that the NHL Hockey season started?
• Or that the WNBA Finals just passed?
• Work is starting to slow down now and with that comes our need to layoff several of our employees for the Winter. I have had to do this for 9 years now, and every year it is difficult, even though most of the employees are aware it is coming. Perhaps to make it less uncomfortable, I will go as Donald Trump for Halloween this year, and wear the costume in to work to lay everybody off...then it's somewhat festive.
• Banks are failing all over the place and my bank is named after an actor most famous for playing Clark Griswald in the National Lampoon's Vacation movies. Should I be worried?

For My Amusement Parks

I would have to say that one of my favorite past times is people watching. I'm a bit of a wise-ass (you think?) and find it amusing to see "different" people and either point out something odd about them or just create a story about where they're going and what they're thinking. I've been doing this in camera form as well, if you've checked my facebook or myspace picks in the past. It's actually pretty fun and quite amusing, if you've never tried it.

Anyway, no place is more perfect for people watching than an amusement park. I actually hadn't been to an amusement park since Amy and I went to Hershey Park over three years ago, so when Danielle got free tickets to Six Flags, I figured, why not?

I had a football game on Saturday morning, so after cleaning up and picking her up, we make it to the park area around 2 PM. I figured this wouldn't be all that bad since I imagine most of the crowd gets there earlier in the day so they can get their money's worth out of the park. I figured wrong. The lineup of cars just to turn into the park was ridiculous and then the wait to actually pay for parking ($15!!!!) was even worse. Think, Jersey Turnpike Southbound at the Delaware Bridge in mid-Summer.

Needless to say, our spirits are high and after finding a spot, I discuss with Danielle my underlying goals while at the park. She's on board and we begin to bet on the number of grown men in sports jerseys, mullets, and mohawks we will see. And then I pull out an ultimate bet. Having been to many a theme park in my day, I put a guarantee that we will see one fat person trying, despite the obvious difficulty, to fit into a roller coaster seat. Considering how late in the day that it is, the odds are against me, but I'm feeling lucky on this particular day.

And I better be feeling lucky, because while waiting in line I notice an exceptionally large number of men with long black beards and women wearing robes with their faces covered. Upon entering the turnstyles into the park, I walk through a metal detector monitored by armed policemen, and I'm starting to wonder if I made a wrong turn. It is only after a few steps into the "Main Street" area that I see the banner.

"The Nation of Islam welcomes you all to Muslim Day at Six Flags"

Seriously, I can't make this shit up. I've told you before, I swear I'm living in a movie. So, we grab a map and start heading for our first roller coaster. I spot several mohawks in rapid succession followed by a few Redskins jerseys, and then we pass the log type water ride that usually soaks stupid kids that wait at the "observation booth." You know you know the one I'm talking about, every park has them. Anyway, it's closed. Peculiar. We tredge onward and make it to the rollercoaster we've selected...it's closed. Even more peculiar. Come to think of it, I haven't heard the click click click...aaawwwwwwww!!! of any of the rides.

Has homeland security done the ultimate in stereotyping and ordered Six Flags to leave the rollercoasters off on Muslim day? Thankfully, they haven't, but several rides are oddly closed as we make our way to the Joker's jynx. I'm doing my typical people watching as we wait for almost 45 minutes to get on the ride. It is at this point that the girl operating the ride tells Danielle that she can't have her bag in her lap during the ride...or put it on the side. What happened to the old fashioned cubbies on the side of the rollercoaster? Thankfully, the girl caves under the pressure of all the people in line and the relative simplicity of putting the bag on the ground, because I was not about to get off this rollercoaster after all the leadup time it took to get here.

After that, we continue to wander and that is when I come across another great moment in Amusement Park history. During my search for men wearing jerseys I see two apparently Muslim guys walking in our direction...both in jerseys. One is wearing a Jason Campbell jersey, and the other...

Muhsin Muhammed.

Yes, a Muslim man wearing a Carolina Panthers jersey with "Muhammed" written across the back. Seriously. I'm not shitting you. This is bordering on a moment as great as the Asian girl crossing the street wearing a Rice sweatshirt from a couple years back.

But I digress. We make our way to one more rollercoaster, realize that Danielle is supposed to put her bag in an actual locker (that you have to pay for) and my mind begins to numb as we are waiting for almost an hour before we get to the front of the line.

I've lost interest in even looking for jerseys, mullets and mohawks at this point. We're discussing just calling it a day after this one since neither one of us is too fond of the line waiting, and I was less than impressed with the last rollercoaster anyway. And then it happens.

The group directly in front of us to get on the Superman coaster, back seat, a 6 foot, 3 inch, possibly 300 lb. black man nestles into the left seat. I tap on Danielle's shoulder in excitement as the show begins. We both turn and watch as he gives a pull on the seat belt that must first be put on before the harness. He tugs. He squeezes. He adjusts. He tugs again. He shifts in the seat. He looks around awkwardly. I'm crying it's so perfect. One more squeeze. He is actually physically shaking as he pulls at the obviously overextended straps. One more adjustment. More awkward looking around. He's gotta keep trying. Danielle is now crying. And with a great inhale, an aggressive shaking session as he pulls on the strap, and one final squeeze, he's in. The look on his face nearly put me on the floor.

And that my friends is why I love Amusement Parks. Two rollercoasters (we made it to one more before calling it) in and we see our fat guy. What are the odds??!!

Bowling Redemption

As some of you may recall from a couple months back, I was in a bowling league. Well, that league ended but a new season is now upon us. I've been travelling and up to stuff the last couple weeks, so yesterday evening was our team's fifth game, while only my second. And who should we be matched up against, but my ultimate nemesis from the last season, "Drago."

Last I met Drago, he absolutely dominated, as did his team, and we fell 1-14 to them. But this was a new season, we had combined "I'm With Stupid" with "Better at Skeeball" and now we were looking for redemption.

The combination of our teams pushed me out of the 1st spot, where Hilary bowls, down to the third spot, so I would not have to face the Russian machine directly. A quick look at the handicaps before the game and I notice that everyone on my team, except me, has a higher handicap than their opponent, so we've got early leads and just need to put forth our "A" game.

Most of the matchups are staying close for the entire first game, and Hilary is actually holding her own against a less than perfect Drago. He's not a machine...he's a man!!

We go into the tenth frame with the game in our grasp. Hilary pulls out a victory against Drago. Edwin edges his opponent. And then I'm up. I have a decent lead and it's gonna take a miracle for this guy to pull this one out...and then he does it. Strike. It's still OK, I just need a decent 10th and I'll pull this out. Uh oh. Strike #2. Now we're in trouble. I'm definitely gonna need a mark. What is with this team?!! They always find a way. But not this night. We have a stuffed rally monkey sitting on our table, and I've got about 5 beers in my belly. I walk up to the line and fire one down. It's a blood bath...no pins remain. STTEEERRRRIIIKKKKEEE! It's over. I've beat him. Now we are going for the sweep.

Carter needs a spare to stick with the guy he's against...and gets it. Now all he needs is at least 4 pins on the last ball and we will have skunked these mercenaries. He bowled a one. A one!! A one?? Yes, a one. And he drops his game by three pins. We're still up 4-1 after the first game and we always tend to do better after we get a little drunker.

And tonight would be no different. I rail off a spare in the first frame. Edwin drops a strike in the second, followed by a strike of my own. We have a rule when we bowl. If you bowl a turkey (three strikes in a row), you must do the running man. Yes, the dance move...you know that's how we roll. If the team bowls a turkey, all four of us do the running man.

Carter has a chance to get us all dancing and break the spirits of Drago and the Russian contingent (none of them is likely a real Russian, but let's stick with the Rocky metaphor, eh?). He fails. Third frame...Eddo and I drop two more strikes. The politburo is getting anxious. Carter once again keeps us in our seats. If we wanna break these guys down, it looks like it is up to Edwin and I alone.

And so we do. Edwin does a spinning running man as the pins fall and you can feel their hearts breaking. As I stand up there, ball in hand, I know I can lay that final upper cut to KO these punks. Three steps, lean, toss, wait, crash, VICTORY. I turn around, give the nod, and throw my arms and legs forward and back like a 1980's hip-hop video. Their heads drop. The remaining six frames are more of the same. Edwin mimicks dialing a phone as he is "dialed in". I throw out the DeShaun Stevenson and Booker T "Can't see me" hand in front of your face, and we're gonna need four body bags.

When the carnage is over, the final score sits at 14-1. A fitting redemption given the score of my last match with these guys. How sweet it is.

Mac Crappy

Two weeks ago, I ordered myself a new computer. Since college, I had been using the same Dell desktop and unfortunately it contracted a series of Trojan viruses a couple months back after my buddy Dave went to a website where you can download movies (real movies...even the ones still at the theater). I tried to fix it, but shit was getting slow and to be honest, using an 8-year old computer is like talking on the Zack Morris cell phone...time for something new.

I had heard that Macs couldn't get these types of viruses, and those commercials are just so darn trendy and clever. However, after thinking it over, I decided that this old computer gave me virtually no trouble, especially given the amount of porn and illegal music downloading I did, why switch to Mac? I went to Dell's site and grabbed myself a top of the line computer, with pretty much everything I could possibly need. My thinking is that the future is in streaming movies through my computer, so I wanted to be prepared...and I wanted to connect it to the monster LCD TV in my bedroom.

Yes, I know. There is now even less of a reason to ever leave my bedroom. All I need is a microwave and a refridgerator, and to teach Chloe to let herself out, and I'll go into hibernation each Winter. But I digress. The reason for this blog is not to go on about my new computer...it's to point out how thankful I am that I decided to stay with my PC.

So, here's where it starts: After updating her Mac laptop with Apple software a couple weeks ago, Danielle's computer has been slowly getting slower and slower, to the point where on Sunday she claimed it wouldn't even start. After calling Mac and getting talked through a process to bypass the startup and find the problem, she discovers that her computer is not reading her hard drive. And all of her files from all of her years of grad school are on that hard drive. And she didn't ever back them up. And she's freaking out.

Let me remind you. One Dell for me since college, lots of porn and music, no broken hard drive. Her laptop is only two years old, probably no porn (although that would be kinda cool), and a broken hard drive.

So, she decides to reserve a spot to see a "Genius" at the "Genius Bar" at the Apple store. Since she lives in College Park and there aren't any Apple stores near her, I volunteer to take her laptop in (without the pink carrying case) to the store at Montgomery Mall. She books a time of 5:20 PM for me to take it in, and I promptly arrive at the Apple Store right on time.

I've always looked into the Apple Store and seen mobs of people, wondering how so many people can possibly be buying new Macs and Ipods all the time. Now I know...they're not buying stuff, they're there to get their stuff fixed (how'd you like the use of all the forms of "there" in that sentence?).

After meeting a portly little imp of a girl who informed me that she had "checked me in" with the "Geniuses", I saw my name appear on a list on a screen amidst trendy Apple advertising. I was 4th on the list of 9. And that list was just for Macs. There was a second list of 8 for Ipods...and a crowd standing around the "Genius Bar".

I wish it was a bar, because apparently an appointment doesn't mean much to Apple. I stood there for over 30 minutes, waiting as the "Geniuses" plodded through each of the names before me, attempting to fix the computers right there, while I looked on. At one point, a 15-year old girl and her mother shuffled in and started asking questions about her iPod. The redneck mother didn't take kindly to the "check in" philosophy and said she just had a quick question.

So, what does the "Genius" do, he listens and tries to help. What the fuck?!! How about the rest of us that actually have "appointments?" I am shooting this country hillbilly and her anorexic daughter the "I'm gonna kill you and bury your dead carcasses under your own trailer" look during this whole exchange. They are unfazed.

Finally, this waiting ends, and at 6:05 PM, they call my name. I explain what's wrong with her computer and after checking it with his special genius devices, the lead singer of ZZ Top (that's what he looked like at least) told me the hard drive was still in tact but the computer had a problem. Danielle prepared for this by pre-buying a portable hard drive and I told him to just transfer all the files to the new hard drive before trying to fix anything.

That'll be another 30 minutes or so...you wanna wait or shop around and come back?

Uh, actually, I'm gonna go home and drink shots of bourbon to stop the voice in my head from telling me to strangle old Jesus Ferguson here.

And this, my friends, is why "I am PC."

Top 10: Why I'm Single

Recently, I've been meeting a bunch of new women, including those that are completely new to me and others that just haven't really hung out with me very much in the past. Through most of these new interactions, I've been getting some very positive feedback, which is always good for the ego. I'm hearing comments like I'm "so much fun", "easy to talk to", "hilarious", "good-looking", "amazing in bed"...well, haven't heard that last one, but I'm sure it's a possibility.

Anyway, the culmination of this came just yesterday, when Danielle and I were hanging out at my place. I had just made some dinner, and during our conversation, she says that now that she knows me, she's actually kind of shocked that I'm still single.

Now, those of you that know me would probably think that the main reason for this is that I was involved in a 6-year relationship for most of my early twenties. However, I thought I'd give you the "real" reasons for my remaining unmarried.

Top 10 Reasons I'm Still Single

10) Justin Timberlake is always just one step ahead of me on grabbing my future wife. And I am not about taking his sloppy seconds...damaged goods, JT. Damaged goods.
9) I've taken the teachings that you must always strive for something better a bit too broadly.
8) I've found that pointing and clicking for sex is somewhat easier than poking and begging for it.
7) I'm still waiting to find a girl that finds farting, midgets, and nut shots hilarious. I mean really finds them hilarious. Not the "I want this guy to like me, so I'm gonna laugh at that midget even though I really feel sorry for the abuse he has to live with" type.
6) After having my heart broken by my only true love, my college girlfriend, I have protected myself from being hurt that badly by not allowing myself to truly bring anyone close into my life and by deliberately dating women that I know don't meet her level of greatness. Uh...or not. Thanks Freud.
5) Women can only stare at a dancing monkey tattoo while giving me head for so long.
4) My dog is secretly shitting in the shoes and purses of any woman that comes over.
3) Between three days of football, one night of bowling, and one night of basketball, where exactly does this "girlfriend" fit in?
2) Two words: Captain & Coke
1) This blog

Fuzzy Memories: You Did What?!!

So, in honor of my return to my old college campus this weekend for Homecoming, I felt it only appropriate that I recount the story that still amazes some people in the degree of stupidity involved in it. This is a story from my senior year, and once again involves that great past time of ours, "borrowing" golf carts. It is blog entries like this that I feel it is best that I refer you once again to my Disclaimer before you continue.

You Did What?!!
It's probably around midnight on a standard Spring evening on campus. My buddies and I have been doing some drinking with some freshman girls that we knew at our apartment, and the mood begins to turn to destructive behavior. For those of you that knew me in college, the mood seemed to turn to destructive behavior a little too often. Anyway, we had had limited success the last few attempts to locate and jury-rig a service golf cart for joyriding, so we're searching for possibilities.

It is at this moment that I make the decision that nearly (and likely should have) ended my relationship with my girlfriend at the time. She had recently had knee surgery after blowing out her ACL and MCL during a soccer game, and to aid in her ability to get around campus, the school had provided her with her own golf cart. But certainly, I wouldn't consider taking her golf cart for feats of destruction??

The whizzing of the engine as we pulled away signifies my lack of judgment, and yes, we stole her cart. I have told you on numerous occassions that I am not proud of some of the things I've done in my life, and this is one of them. But we're not done.

After cruising around campus with my roommate, my buddy, and three random freshman girls, we approach the main academic building on campus. As we pulled up, we noticed the new addition to campus...the handicapped ramps. Yes, campus had decided to make the place handicap-accessible, and with that, they had also given us an idea.

You know where this is heading...bear with me. We were ambitious. And we were stupid. A winning combo as we steered the golf cart up the first leg of the ramp. It is at this point that it made a 180 degree turnabout. Thankfully, my roommate played football, my friend played baseball, and I played with myself...often, so we were strong enough to lift and rotate the cart to its new direction. Oh my god, we might just be able to pull this off! We drove it up the second slope and sat at a 90 degree angle in front of the main doors.

Another quick lift and rotate, and the impossible was a mere two feet away. I sat down in the driver's seat as the handicapped doors opened like Shangri-La in front of us. And we entered the magical utopia of our main academic building while seated on our chariot. Flyers waved on the walls as we sped down the hall. It was surreal. It was amazing. And then it was over.

Did you ever realize how short a hallway is when you're driving along it? It is at this point, that the stupidest of all ideas crosses our mind. There, to our left, at the end of the hall, sat the hallway to the elevator. We knew we could turn this cart 90 degrees. We had conquered the first floor. What if we took it to the second floor?

We lifted the cart and had it in position. The doors to the elevator opened, and with a push of the accelerator, we were...BANG!!...oops. Apparently, the hallway got more narrow. Wish I had noticed that before I slammed into it and took a chunk out of the wall. However, I am thankful in hindsight that it was there, because I dare not think of the chaos that likely would have occurred if we had been able to get the cart into the elevator. I'm pretty sure the weight would have been a problem.

The obvious destruction of public property (remember the Disclaimer...this is not real) cleared our heads a bit, and it is at this time that we decided an exit was in our best interest. How would we explain this if someone of authority just happened to walk by?

Our exit was more Dukes of Hazard than our lengthy entrance, as I floored the accelerator and drove straight off the top level down the steps (dem damn der Duke boys!!), with a couple thuds. We made our way back to my apartment, locked up the cart to the lightpost out front, and as I returned to bed, I was greeted by my girlfriend and her not-so-friendly (though completely expected) reprimanding. After I explained what we had done, the shock in her eyes was only broken by her exclamation,

"You Did What??!!"

Stockpiling the Karma

I've been a bit slack on posting this week, as a Friday night of drinking turned into a 5:15 AM return to my bed (yeah, I thought I was 30 years old now too) and my body hasn't quite recovered with football and evening activities since.

Needless to say, I'm feeling a little under the weather today, which is not good since I'm flying down to Charlotte tomorrow night for a weekend with my old Fraternity brothers, celebrating Homecoming.

I'm sure I'll have some nice stories from that trip, given that the last two trips to Charlotte have included a one night stand with a cougar (one of these days I'll blog that story) and vomiting on a main street at only 10 PM (that one pretty much tells itself).

However, I'm not always up to trouble like that, I'm also there to lend a helping hand to those around me. And this was apparent last Saturday afternoon, as I left my football game (yep, played on 4 hours of sleep...and dropped every pass thrown to me like the "Thunderstruck" scene from "Varsity Blues") and headed over to watch Kevin's game, which started right after mine.

I arrive to the field to see Jen and Thor sitting down under a tree by the field. If you haven't seen Kevin's dog Thor before, he's a 1-year old English Bulldog, who resembles a small, 60 lb. tank, and weezes with every breath he takes. Despite his breathing issues, he's full of energy this particular day and is running around the sidelines on his leash chasing a ball and trying to go up to everyone who passes by.

I sit down for a bit and watch the conclusion of the first half. The second half begins and the other team has the ball. They complete only one pass leading up to a 4th down and 1 completion (it's a two completion co-ed league). Everyone gets set for the 4th down play and with the snap of the ball, all 16 players are running about.

This is apparently the last straw of excitement for Thor as he bolts for the field, reaches the end of his leash, and...SNAP! Yep, the leash broke. And the tank is in motion. For a thick dog, he moves pretty fast, but apparently steering is a different story when he gets that big body moving. Like a missile, he is targeted right at a girl on the field and with a perfect shot, he nails her in the back of the legs. She drops like a sack to the ground, up-ended by the collision. I would have laughed histerically at this point (other people's pain is always amusing to me), but I just feel so uncomfortable as Jen is yelling "Thor! Thor!" as he darts in and out of the groupings of people. The play concludes with an incomplete pass, Kevin chases Thor down with no assistance from any of the players already on the field, and an argument ensues as to whether the play should count.

Thor now has a 3-foot long leash part, a ton of energy after his jaunt, and I think he's worn out his welcome. So, I take one for the team. I'll take him home. I grab his short little leash and drag his stubborn self back to my car for the trip home. Once we're in my car, I have a few words with him and we're off.

While this was going on, up in Rockville, my other brother's wife is running into her own problems. She has gotten into the habit of using the Zip Cars at the metro, and is hoping to use one to drive some supplies to my older brother for an exhibit he's showing at a festival in Silver Spring. Unfortunately for her, the person before her is late in returning the Zipcar, and it's not there when she finishes walking to the metro from her house. She doesn't have her cell. phone, and the Zipcar people won't help you if you call from a different line, so she has to hitch a ride with a friendly mother-daughter combo back to her house to figure out what's going on.

After her phone conversation, they offer to get her a cab, which they claim will not arrive for over 1/2 hour. Thankfully, the Zipcar place calls her back when the person finally returns the original car to its spot. And then she places a second call...to me.

Yep, I'm sitting in my car with Thor, driving back from his mugging when the second call for help arrives. Pick you up from your place and take you to the metro? Sure.

So, ten minutes later, Sarah, Thor and I are sitting in my car, driving to the Grosvenor Metro so Sarah can pick up her car. My second good deed for the day. And Karma is good...for now.

The Date-Time Continuum

For those of you that don't watch "How I Met Your Mother" or don't just happen to know this term, the "date-time continuum" basically states that you should not make plans with a current girlfriend/boyfriend that are further into the future than the amount of time that you have been dating.

I'm usually not superstitious about this particular term, and in most instances I'm fine with a girlfriend inviting me to future events, as I would hope that they would want to be with me in the future, and most really good things require a couple months of preparation. Case in point, the cruise Jaclyn and I took after only dating for 3 months...great time.

However, I've had my fair share of downsides to planning ahead in relationships, regardless of the date-time continuum. Here's just a few examples:

• I booked a flight to Pensacola to see Natalie for Y2K New Years. We broke up in October.
• I booked rooms and a flight for Jaclyn and I to go to Vegas last December. We broke up 4 days prior.
• I bought tickets to see the Lion King with Nicole in July, and ended up getting dumped by Lisa the day after the show (Yes, you read that right)

And so, like the fool I am, I pounced on pre-order tickets to see the Wizard of Oz at Warner Theater in December earlier this week. (Don't judge me, I'm cultured...bitches...and I like the Cowardly Lion)

However, I'm not going to mention this to Danielle. You see, Danielle and I have only been dating for about a month now (yes, I know some of you are shocked at the new girl turnaround, but do you really think I'm as big of a jackass as these posts suggest? Come on, women love me. And when a girl comes over, in her jersey, every Sunday because she actually wants to watch football and makes you taco dip, that's a keeper). Anyway, so since it's only been a month, that means I shouldn't plan anything more than a month in advance. I've had tickets to see Lavell Crawford at the Improv in mid-October for a while, and I just mentioned that to her last week. She wants to go to some cabin with her friends in late-October...so she just squeaked in. But then she mentions taking a trip to Disney World (where she knows people) and AFRICA! (where she also knows people who will let us stay for free) for January and February, and I think she's putting our relationship in jeopardy. Does she not know my track record?! Thankfully, none of these things has been booked.

However, the tickets to the Wizard of Oz have been booked. So for those of you who were putting the bets down as to when I'll be truly single again (don't worry, G-Man, I'll still wingman like the pro I am)...my money's on early-December. There's no guarantees it will be Danielle breaking up with me, but someone will. There's no fighting the date-time continuum or my "luck" with planning things ahead of time.

Speed Cameras

Since I'm a little drunk right now, and just drove from Virginia (wait, those two probably shouldn't come together...good thing all these posts are fictional), I thought I'd take a few moments out of my time watching the House premiere on DVR to bitch about something that's been bugging me for a while.

On Monday, I wrote a check to the Montgomery County police...my fourth in like the last 3 months. And why did I write this check?? Because a camera, not an actual policeman, said I was speeding. And there's a nice picture of my car to "prove" it. Actually there's two pictures, if you include the close up of my license plate.

Why the fuck are there so many stinking speeding cameras all over this area??!! There's one on Randolph road, just east of Rockville Pike, that is positioned at the bottom of a hill. The speed limit there is 30 mph, so unless you're riding your brakes down the hill, you're breaking the law. Fucking camera!! Which is better, people going 45 mph along a two lane street, maintaining constant speed, or random cars slamming on their brakes because they know there's a camera there and don't want to get a ticket, forcing those who are unaware to slam on their brakes or slam into them?

Here's my philosophy. If you're going a safe speed (speed limit signs don't know shit) and not weaving through traffic, making the roads unsafe for those around you, you're driving safely, and thus legally. Real cops can respect this fact, and will in most cases let you drive over the speed limit, even in excess of 10 miles above the speed limit. However, these cameras don't. If you're going 11 miles over the speed limit, even if that means a very controllable 41 mph, enjoy your $40 ticket that will arrive in 7-10 days.

If the county wants to make more money for the police, that's fine with me. But put the cameras at the intersections for people running red lights. At least I would consider them to be making the roads unsafe. Leave those of us that want to drive a safe, but faster speed alone.

Top 10: What a Waste

In these tight financial times, everyone appears to be wanting to save money and minimize excessive spending. So, in an attempt to help those of you truly concerned with this, I have made the following Top 10 List. Having already brought up the wastefulness of greeting cards in a past post, I present to you:

Top 10 Things You Can Do Without
10. Soda at restaurants: I went to Wendy's last week and got a chicken sandwich for $.99, a Double Stack burger for $.99, and a Dr. Pepper for $2!! How is it that something that is mostly water is twice as expensive as meat products?
9. Underwear: It's under your clothes, nobody sees it, so who needs it? Let the era of free ballin and commando chicks begin.
8. CDs: There's still a ton of pirate programs out there like Morpheus, so why are you still paying for music? If musicians really want to help the country, they should stop saying this is "illegal" and make their money touring and selling merchandise.
7. Cats: They are creepy and don't bring anything to the table. They shit in a box in your bathroom, eat your food, and only come around when they feel like it. See you later, Garfield...you don't make the cut.
6. Hair Products: It's real simple. If everyone stops using hair gel and mousse and shit like that, then it will be a new style. You're already not wearing underwear, let's go au natural.
5. Nationals Tickets: Oh wait, you're already not buying them.
4. Greeting Cards: I already brought this up in the gift giving post I had a couple days ago. It's like putting money in someone else's trash can. Just write happy birthday on the back side of one of those credit card ads you get in the mail every day and call it done.
3. Art: I've been to some people's houses and seen the shit on their walls. They paid money for that?? Wow.
2. Big Screen LCD TVs: Wait. No. I was just kidding. Sometimes you just gotta make a stand...I'm helping stimulate the economy.
1. Condoms: I mean, seriously...who really needs them? That's why God invented pulling out, right Bristol Palin??

And now back to work, so I can make some money to not spend on these things.

So Sore

Due to the rain two weekends ago, my return to playing football (I only gave up my indoor league...come on, you know me) in my outdoor leagues was put off by one week, making this past weekend the start of the seasons.

As I've already mentioned in the last blog entry, this weekend also included a trip to AC. So, Saturday morning, after approximately 8 hours of sitting at numerous blackjack tables, 12 or more (who keeps count?) Captain and cokes, 6 hours of sleep, and 3 hours of driving, I stood on the fields in Bethesda ready to play.

Surprisingly, the haze of hangover and random pot smoking (you know I only touch the stuff very infrequently) does not affect my football play nearly as much as it did my driving to the field, as I caught about 8 of the first 12 passes of the game including our opening touchdown. Not too shabby for a 30-year old who hasn't played in over a month. Nonetheless, we're playing my brother's team, and they haven't lost a regular season game in 2 years...and that quickly appears not to change.

Let me explain why. You see, this is a co-ed league. On the field at all times, you are required to have five guys and three girls. Our girls, though talented from girl standards, are completely overshadowed by their girls, two of which are talented from guy standards. I ain't kidding. They beat our girls on routes by like 5-10 YARDS consistently. One girl caught a diving catch. Another got tackled by a guy on our team (by mistake) and got up and called him a pussy. Well, everything but that last part...but she did get up without a problem, and I'm sure she was thinking.

We're down a bunch quickly, it's like a thousand degrees in the sun, so I take myself out for a few drives in the second half and after the loss, I'm in bed, trying to rest my body.

Like an ass, I decide to go down to Adam's Morgan with Kevin, Jen and some of her friends on Saturday night, and after a couple drinks and a near fight with a shitfaced jerkoff who grabbed Kevin's pizza and took a bite (that's a story in itself, maybe I'll post that later), it's 2:30 AM and I'm just going to sleep.

My next football game is at 10:15 AM on Sunday morning in my men's league. Having not learned anything from the previous day, I carry my hungover self to the field, and the second 1000 degree day. Why is there no shade!??!

Since our team is lacking any real linemen, and most of our players are even smaller than me (and I only weigh 175), I take one for the team and decide that I'll play some line, knowing that I'll give it 100% to protect our QB or try to sack theirs. Within a matter of drives, however, I am dying, having been thrown around by guys that outweigh me by about 30-50 lbs. Kinda wish I hadn't lost all that weight a couple months back.

You see, this is when having a fat friend is useful. I need to find more fat friends. They're good to make fun of when hanging out, since there's a plethora of fat jokes out there, and they're even better when you need to play football. I guess I'll just narrow down my fattest friend right now, and constantly invite him to the chinese buffet and Cici's until he's ready for action.

We lose a close one, 6-13, and following my shower when I get home, I start to feel some tightness in my back. Then some soreness in my shoulder. Then an aching in my thighs. Within a couple hours, I'm having trouble standing straight up, as my lower back is tight as hell.

An afternoon of football watching doesn't help the cause much, and neither does a night of sleep, as I woke up this morning and literally felt like I could "feel" every muscle in my body working as I made even the slightest move. Good thing work is low impact...oh wait, it's not. I'm laying pipe at a pool in Virginia. Yep, laying pipe. That's what we pool guys do. Giggity giggity.

So, I get home tonight, and I make the executive decision. After taking my shower to clean the dirt off (laying pipe is a dirty job), I turn on the bath tub and take a soak. Yes, I used the bath tub for something other than having sex or a lead in to having sex...go figure. It appears to have helped somewhat, and I went the extra step of dialing up some internet porn when I got out (it just seemed like the right thing to do). And now, here I lay, in bed once again.

Why do I put myself through this?...because I love it. It's good to be back at it.

Say What?!

On Friday afternoon, Dave and I decided to head up to Atlantic City to get an evening of gambling in. I had gotten a comped room at the Tropicana, so we would be able to stay the night, and as the rain began, we got on the road.

We would have some time to kill as a 3 hour trip laid in our future, so Dave brought along some of the good stuff and we sparked that up as we approached 95 North. Add to that the eclectic mix of music that Dave had in his car, including Gorillaz, Damian Marley, and the Juno soundtrack, and the time is flying. However, I had gotten a Wendy's combo meal before we left and killed the entire Dr. Pepper, and that didn't bode well for me as the patter of rain kept reminding me that I needed to pee.

We made a stop at a rest stop, and that is where the first double take of my trip occurred. I'm standing at the urinal and there's probably about another three or four guys lining the wall of urinals, when I hear someone from a couple of spots down say,

"Can you reach over here?"

What did that guy just say!!??? Had my dick not already been out, I probably would have peed my pants. Bathroom etiquette prohibits me from looking down to see who said it (eyes front only), but as I go to wash my hands I peak back to see who was calling for some bathroom shenanigans.

It is at that point that I see the Asian man...and his short son...talking about the fact that the son was tall enough to reach the higher urinal and not have to use the lower, kiddie urinal. Ahhh, I get it. Still funny.

Fast forward to our arrival at the Tropicana. We've checked in and make our way to the elevators to drop off our bags. There's a group of about 6 thicker black chicks waiting there as well, and when we get into the elevator, Dave starts talking with them. He asks if they are here for the weekend, to which they reply that they are just there for the night. Another girl chimes in that they're going to have a girl's night out, to which Dave replies:

"That's what I'm talking about."

WHAT?? I bit my lip so as not to bust out right there, as they seem to have let that comment pass without any questioning. Did Dave turn into Moesha while I wasn't looking? What exactly was he "talking about?" We're two dudes. And we're white. Of course I couldn't let this slide, so from this point on, that was my new slogan for the night.

Wanna head back to the casino? That's what I'm talking about.
You see that USF game? That's what I'm talking about.
Matzoh ball soup at the diner? That's what I'm talking about.

Finally, it fit.

Oww

Today I got stung by a bee in my left arm. It probably wasn't a bee, it was more likely a yellowjacket or whatever bee-type thing lives in the ground. In either case, it hurt. It still hurts. Not badly, but it makes the hairs on my neck stand up when it does tingles. Luckily, I had baking soda nearby (we put it in pools) to put on it, but that's as useful as peeing on a jellyfish sting. Who really does that?

Fucking bee. I was just minding my own business. It was the f-ing landscapers that mowed past their hole in the ground and I feel their wrath. This is why landscapers continue to be the mortal enemy of the poolman. As if blowing leaves into the pool wasn't bad enough. The next landscaper I see, I'm gonna fling chlorine in their eye. Stings...doesn't it. Fucker.



That is all. I just wanted to remember this day, since the last time I was stung was like 15 years ago.

The Early Years: Kid Gangs

Like any good story, in order to understand the motivations of the main characters, it is important to know their backgrounds. While, these stories may not be helpful in understanding why I make fun of midgets and find racial humor and shots to the nuts hilarious, they are an entertaining look into the history of the J-Man. So, as a new repeating series, I bring to you the first installment of J-Man: The Early Years.

Kid Gangs
After having spent my entire life in the same house in Bethesda, MD, in May 1984, at the age of 6, I was forced to move to California. My dad had worked for an oil company that was headed by Palestinians, and once they had discovered that he was Jewish, they did not want him working there any longer. Rather than deal with a wrongful termination lawsuit, they told him that his position was no longer needed in the DC area. They gave him the offer of moving to California, assuming he would not move a family of five across the country, and they would be able to get rid of him more easily. They were wrong.

When you're 6 years old, you really don't know what moving means. This was the first time I had ever moved, and basically all it meant was that my 1st grade class was going to throw me a party and I was informed that I was going to be in the area where Michael Jackson was (Thriller was big at this time, and Jacko wasn't publicly touching kids, so I was a big fan...more on that in future Early Years posts). Both things seemed pretty positive, so I rolled with the punches.

It was Summer when we got to Chatsworth and our new home. It was not until many years later that I found out that Chatsworth is the porn capital of the United States, but perhaps the seed was inherently planted. Too bad we didn't stay here very long...more on that later.

I had my own room again, having shared my room with my older brother since my younger brother had been born 2 years prior. We also had a swimming pool and a "fortress," which was basically this hill next to the pool that was covered with small bushes and a waterfall, but gave a great view of the neighborhood. We would play fighting games in the fortress as if we were He-Man, fighting invisible monsters (or trees) around the backyard. Don't mock my young self, you know you did this shit too. My older brother and I quickly bonded with our neighbor Michael, and in playing these games, we became a little gang.

When you're 6 years old, it seems like forming a gang is pretty standard stuff. I remember being in many "gangs" growing up. We wouldn't wear bandanas and shoot people and shit, these were just a group of kids that hung out together and by traveling in numbers, you were cooler. The great thing about being in a gang is that you always have people to play with and laugh at your jokes. Being the jokester, even at a young age, this was always nice. The downside to being in a gang, however, is that one person's beef magically becomes yours.

So, it's the Summer of '84 and my brother, Michael and I are all in a camp together at the local park. We've got some other people as a part of our gang, and being as I talk to much, I find myself as the "leader" of this gang. The other big thing when you're 6, is the enemy...girls. I'm not sure why this was the case, but for the better part of three years, stemming from Kindergarten through 2nd grade, girls were "evil" and therefore you were supposed to chase them during recess and make them cry. Not sure where I learned this, perhaps it is an inherent characteristic that I was born with. Seeing their underwear was also cool, but rarely occurred, so we stuck with the chasing.

But I digress. As expected, there was a gang of "evil" girls at this camp as well, headed by a girl named Bria. I remember her name because we used to call her dia-Bria, which sounded like diarrhea, which still makes me laugh today. This likely made her cry on many occassions, much to my 6-year old delight, though I don't really remember it. What I do remember was the day our conflict went a bit too far.

The girls had done something bad to my brother (you'd think I'd be able to remember what that was since he's my brother) and we needed to get them back. It was time for revenge. Retribution. Strike Back!! And when one of the guys in my gang got a colored marker of one of the girls, our opportunity arose. The marker passed from this kid, to Michael, to Glen, to me. Gulp. Now what do I do? Throw it in the toilet!! Yeah!!

Like I said, the bad part of being in a gang was making someone else's beef your own. I needed to do something, for the group. For myself, to show that I was fit to lead. I was holding the marker, I needed to put it in the toilet. But I had never done something destructive before. In fact, I had never actually "caught" a girl after all of these years of chasing. To be honest, I'm not sure what I would have done if I had. And here I was, having caught their marker.

I ran to the bathroom and stood at the shitter with several of the guys standing around me. Throw it in!!! Yeah!!! Who is that guy who keeps saying, yeah?? Whatever, I've got to do it. And then I did. The bathroom went silent as the blue marker floated in the toilet bowl, some of the blue ink leaking from it, changing the color of the water. It was like we all were expecting something much cooler to have happened...like fireworks or a giant chorus of cheers, chanting "men,men,men!!" for our triumph over the girls. Instead, the marker just sat there.

Should we flush it? I guess. It was at this point that the camp counselor came in and saw what we had done. Bria's friend was apparently crying (mission accomplished) and he had come in to lay down the punishment. We explained the situation and then I was asked to wait outside of the counselor's office while he spoke with other members of the gang. While standing out there, an older boy who was in the camp came over to me.

Older kid: Did you take one of those girl's pens and throw it in the toilet?
Me: Yeah
Older kid: Well, that wasn't very nice. For that, you need to be punished.

And at that moment, he punched me square in the chest. Right in the sternum. I had never been punched before, except for the minor scuffles with my brother. It hurt. It knocked the wind out of me, and I fell to my knees. Shocked and confused, a few tears started to well up. (Don't mock little J-Man...I was six)

But I guess I deserved that. My conscience told me not to throw the marker in the toilet, but the gang mentality overwhelmed my better judgment. Lesson learned...or was it?