Thunderstruck

Here we go again. Why does God seem to have it out for me recently? (Well, aside from the years of mocking retards, the handicapped, excessively surfing porn on the internet, and a lack of practicing any sort of organized religion) He obviously does not want me to get a good night's sleep at least. Because, there I am, dead asleep at 3:30 AM last night, when the sound of heavy rain pelting my skylights wakes me up. It's coming down like sheets that echo on my skylights like a tribal drum, beating rapidly, accompanied by the periodic flash of lighting and loud bang of thunder.

This continues for several more minutes, the banging of thunder getting louder and louder, now waking the dog and putting her on alert. And that's when it happens. A flash at my window so bright the whole room lights up even with the blinds drawn, and an immediate bang, like a gunshot, loud enough to shake my bed.

I usually enjoy the sound of rain and thunder, but that's when it isn't accompanied by the sound of my smoke detector going off. YIKES! So, up I jump from bed, anticipating the worst, yet again. Did my house get hit by lightning and something is on fire? Oddly, the smoke detector stops after only a few seconds of operation and the power is still on. Weird? Maybe just a surge...guess I'll have a look around just in case.

So I walk out into the hallway and notice that the light in the spare room is on. The door is shut and I haven't been in there for over a week??? I'm pretty sure I couldn't have left the light on for this long. So, who turned it on? And why is it on now? I open the door to find the light on and no one inside, so I go to flip the switch off. Wait...it is off. I think this is probably creepier as I'm retelling it, much like the TV in Poltergeist, but this light is all about staying on, regardless of whether the switch is on or off. That's definitely not a good sign.

On to the breaker panel, once again. All the rest of the power is on in the house so I'm not too freaked out as I make my way down stairs. The rain and thunder are still echoing through the house, but my real fear now is fire. I'm about halfway down the stairs to the basement when the smell hits my nostrils. Oh crap! If you've never smelled the odor that accompanies an electrical fire, it is very distinct and nothing like that of a grill or campfire. And that's what I'm smelling. At this point, I'm moving considerably faster as I open the breaker box. There's no obvious fire spilling out and aside from the odor, which is more potent by the box, everything seems normal. Well, except for the light that controls itself upstairs.

My immediate thought is to shut off all the breakers for the upstairs so that the light (which is likely the source of some issue) is not continuing to receive a power supply. I flip off about 8 breakers which are all labelled as upstairs components, though none says 'kid's room' or 'spare room' or anything like that...stupid previous owners not labelling shit. I race back upstairs to see if this has shut off the light, but the damned thing is still on! FUCK! Three more trips and a series of shutting off groups of breakers, and I've finally located the right breaker. Thankfully, that has stopped the power supply to the light upstairs. But the smell still persists.

I've gotta get inside that breaker box. I run upstairs to grab a screw driver and quickly undo the screws that are holding the front panel in place. To my surprise, I am not greeted by a roaring fire. Instead, everything seems perfectly fine. Nothing is scorched or smoldering. What the hell?!

I make my way up to the spare room to examine the light switch itself. After undoing the screws, I pull out the switch. Again, no fire, no scorched wires, or any smoldering. Maybe the breaker being shut off stopped the problem? I again head down the two flights of stairs to the basement and am still confronted with the odor of electrical burning. It does not appear to be disappearing. It is pouring rain, but I step outside, hoping (well, in the sense that at least I'd know what's wrong) to see some sort of char or burned area. Nothing.

What do I do? It's 4 AM. Everything in my house, with the exception of the one light, appears to be working fine, except I'm smelling a burning odor in my basement. I debate calling my father for some quick advice, but at 4 AM I don't want to burden him and have my mother up for the next 3 hours worrying that my dog and I are going up in flames. Then I debated calling the Fire Department, but I really don't want to deal with all that hastle at this time of night, when there isn't anything obvious.

So, perhaps it wasn't the smartest move, but I decided going back to bed, having left the breaker off. Of course, I'm not going to sleep unprepared. I packed a bag of clothes that I wanted to wear along with Chloe's stuff and my keys, wallet, etc. and placed the bag by my bed, along with a fire extinguisher and a flash light. And now I lay myself back to sleep, prepared for the worst...a more shocking wakeup to the sound of a smoke detector going off without stopping, and the smell of both electrical and wood fire burning in my house and filling my lungs with smoke.

At 7:00 AM, my alarm (clock) goes off. I'm not on fire, but I am completely exhausted. My eyes are burning, not from smoke, but from lack of sleep. My body is weak from all the commotion I endured, so I call my brother to tell him what happened and that I am gonna come in a bit late today. I'm still alive, so falling back to sleep is much easier this time around.

At 10:00 AM, I wake up again, and decide it is time I get up and go to work. I begin my normal routine and eventually head downstairs to let Chloe out. FUCK! There's still that damned burning smell. It's been six hours! Something is still burning! Now it is not too early to call ol' Pops. After a quick recap of my late night events, we concur that the best step is to contact an electrician to check into this matter. He places the call, and they suggest we call the fire department as well.

And that is where my last two hours have been spent. First the fire department came and three firemen checked the breaker panel, the light switch and my attic, and concluded the same things I did. Nothing obvious...maybe it's the breaker that smells...wait for the electrician.

And then the electrician arrived. He went to the breaker box and turned to me to say, "the smell isn't coming from here." Is this good news or bad news? He suggested I check to make sure the washer and dryer were still working...check. Then he suggested I see if all my electronics devices were still working. Big screen...check. DVD player...check. Receiver...check. CD changer...check. TiVo...TiVo? TiVo?? How do you turn this thing on. The remote has no button for "on", so I push all the buttons. Nothing. And then we smell the box. TiVo is on fire. I completely unplug it and throw it out into the garage, the odor following me as I move it away. TiVo has been burning in my basement for the past 6 hours.

So, the light switch was replaced and TiVo is no more. So long "Comedy Central Presents...Mitch Hedberg" and "Making the Video: Boots are made for Walking," you had been there for a while. And so long to the newest episodes of "Last Comic Standing" and "Dog the Bounty Hunter."

Well, the mystery is solved. You've been Thunderstruck.

Yeah, it's alright.
We're doing fine.
So Fine.
Thunderstruck.

Top 10 Funniest Movies

Well, Friday night rolled around and with it came the opening of the newest Will Ferrell movie, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. I'm a huge Will Ferrell fan so, of course, there I am with my brother and his roommate to see the 7 PM showing on opening night. My expectations were high, and though the movie didn't rank up there with his previous greats (Old School, Anchorman), it did have some solid parts. I'm sure it'll be a lot funnier once I've seen it about 5 more times and can start throwing lines from it into my everyday conversations.

So, like I said, this movie didn't rank up there with his previous movies...but how exactly do those other movies rank up with what I would consider the Funniest Movies I've seen. So, it seemed only fitting that I whip out:

The 10 Ten Funniest Movies Ever
(Let me just start by saying Jim Carrey irritates me and I don't like Ben Stiller's sense of humor, so some of their 'finer' works are missing)
10. Mallrats - Jason Lee is freakin hilarious in this movie and Jay & Silent Bob have their moments as well. All in all a solid movie with several laugh out loud moments.
9. Austin Powers - It's basically a bunch of gags one right after another and is too solid a movie to have been left off this list. The sequels had their funny parts (Fat Bastard) but I'm giving the overall nod to the original.
8. Anchorman - The news team fight is amazing, and Will Ferrell could just be standing there and I would laugh.
7. Happy Gilmore - Adam Sandler has always been a favorite of mine and having watched this movie probably 20 or more times, I can say with conviction that it is one of the funniest movies around. Hell, he fights Bob Barker.
6. Wedding Crashers - My expectations were perhaps a bit too high when I first saw this movie, but Vince Vaughn and his rants always keep me entertained. It may drop with time, but right now it's still a top movie.
5. Billy Madison - Another Adam Sandler movie makes an appearance on the big board. This was his first and his finest, and nothing beats throwing a ball at small children to make me laugh. (Hell, it's the only time I laughed when I saw "Bad News Bears")
4. Van Wilder - Though I feel like I wanna puke when the Frat Boys are eating the eclairs (yeah, you know the scene), there's too many hilarious parts to this movie for it to not make the list. And having just seen it on Comedy Central again today, it's jumped a bit up the standings.
3. American Pie - My brother debated this movie even being considered for this list, but Stiffler alone makes this movie a Top 5. Plus, who doesn't love Eugene Levy...well, except for the movie, "The Man"
2. Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle - This is arguably the funniest movie ever, but nothing can really unseat the overall greatness of the #1 movie. Then again, the NPH cameo is pretty damned amazing. If you're doubting me...go watch this movie again. You will laugh out loud.
1. Old School - Come on. Was there any doubt? This movie is one of the finest pieces of work ever made in the comedy genre and will be cherished for years to come. We're going streaking!!!

Now I'm sure there will be plenty of debate if any of my 20 or so readers actually brings himself to type anything, so let me do you one better. If you actually care, and want to make your voice heard, post your own top ten in the comments section and I will award 10 points for any first place vote on down to 1 point for tenth and then I will repost my top ten with your adjustments next week. Seems like a fair compromise? And here's a few movies that didn't make the cut that you may want to consider as well.

40 Year Old Virgin
Caddyshack
Animal House
Dumb & Dumber
Something About Mary
Airplane
Tommy Boy
Super Troopers
Half Baked
Scary Movie
Don't Be a Menace to South Central...
Nutty Professor
Duece Bigelow
National Lampoon's Vacation
Naked Gun
Meet The Parents
Zoolander
Bad Santa
Ace Ventura

Taggers

Earlier in the week, I met my brother at a job site to give him a part that I had picked up for the job he was at. When I pulled up next to the service truck, however, I noticed that there was something on the hub cap. It looked like a "D" and it was spray painted on there. Where in the hell did that come from?! I'm sure I hadn't seen that before. My brother was also unsure, and it wasn't until I got back to our warehouse that I realized where it had come from.

There, in our parking lot, sat several other trucks, spray painted by vandals with the word "DARK" tagged in random locations. One truck, that has been sitting in the lot and hasn't moved in a while was completely tagged up. They had spray painted the entire passenger side window and rearview window white and painted "DARK" over top of that, in addition to the 6-8 other locations the word and other drawings appeared all over the large box truck.

Wow! Where did all this spray painting come from? Hmmm. Let me think. There is a warehouse spot in this development for a realty company, a gym supplier, a framing store, that weird guy that looks like the Riddler, and... an underground autobody shop that specializes in spray painting designs on cars and only works at night because they probably don't have a license to do car work in our warehouse development to begin with. Hmmm. Who could have done this? I'm stumped.

So, we call the building supervisor and mention what has occurred and who we "think" might be responsible for it. Of course, he's being a big vagina and refuses to take any action because no one actually saw anyone do it. That's right, no one saw them do it...but these are the same guys that spray painted all over the inside of their warehouse walls, and even on their own cars, plus all of the trucks that were tagged were either directly in front of their warehouse spot or just out of view of the main traffic. But he's right, that would be circumstantial evidence. And who would be stupid enough to spray paint right in front of their own shop. Certainly not punks who sit in a warehouse inhaling spray paint all night. Definitely not.

On to the police. So we give them a call and inform them of what occurred. They're more concerned as to whether "DARK" is a racial slur and whether this was a hate crime. Are you kidding me? Hate crime? I don't know about you, but I don't particularly "love" getting spray paint put on my vehicle. Fucking "hate" crime! When we told them it wasn't, immediately we're not important and I still haven't heard anything from them since. But I expected that.

So what's the next step...vigilante justice, of course. No, I didn't break anything of theirs or spray paint their vehicles or anything like that. The thought crossed my mind, but I'm not trying to get thrown in jail or fined or some crap like that. I mean, they just sprayed a 'D' on my wheel. They did much worse to other people's trucks. Certainly the other guys would be just as mad as me. Right?

So I walked my ass down to the guy who owns the sign shop, who happened to have two trucks he was working on (putting signage on them) tagged up. Now, this guy is an animal. I know, because he has come into my office and bitched at me because my guys are parking in his parking spots. Now, let me tell you. If you saw how mad he was over taking his parking spots, one can only imagine what he would do when someone elses' vehicle, in his care, got vandalized.

Let me just pay him a quick visit. And that's where I'm gonna end this particular tale. You can finish it however you see fit, but make sure you include a lot of curse words, because that would be truest to form.

Yeah, I poked the bees' nest and perhaps I poured honey on these spray paint guys, without any solid proof, but hey...what else am I gonna do to keep myself entertained. They shouldn't have messed with my truck.

A New Addition

If my retarded stories weren't enough to keep you coming back, I have now added another way for you to waste your day instead of working....FROGGER.

Yep, scroll down to the end of the links on the right and you'll find good old Frogger at your disposal, all day, every day. You think you'll only play one go round, but trust me you'll be hooked. Enjoy the new addition, I'll post something later.

Top 10: Building the Franchise

Last night, I'm sitting in bed watching TV when I flip to ESPN and see that the Red Sox-Indians game is in the bottom of the ninth and the score is 8-6, with the Sox at bat with a man on first and no outs. As some of you may have already seen, the next batter proceeds to get walked, and ESPN is already panning to David Ortiz, moving to the on-deck circle, as Mark Loretta comes to the plate.

Let me just start by saying that I really don't like the Red Sox. I was raised a Yankee fan and with that comes some standard requisites, one being a hatred for the Sox. But as I'm sitting in bed watching this game, I'm starting to get goosebumps, because I know what is about to happen. The Red Sox coach does not option to have Loretta sacrifice bunt, which would move the runners, but leave 1st base open for an intentional walk. Instead, he lets Loretta swing away, and to the Sox delight, he does not hit into a double play. He pops out in the infield and the runners are still at 1st and 2nd when Big Papi comes up against Fausto Carmona, the new Indians closer.

The rest is like a Michael Jordan highlight. Game on the line, the closing moments, this is when the real men dial it in. And Ortiz did it again. The first pitch in the strike zone, he nails it to center field and walks off with a 3-run, game winning homerun. Even I cheered, he's just simply amazing.

But moments like this got me to thinking, with a guy like David Ortiz, and the Nationals move to not trade Alfonso Soriano at the deadline yesterday, if you could build a baseball franchise today from scratch, who would you start with? I discussed this at work the other day, and here's my newest top 10 list:

Top 10 Players to Begin a MLB Franchise With
10. David Wright 3B NYM - Most people would probably say, "who?" and wonder how a guy like this even made it onto my list. The fact of the matter is, this guy is probably one of the best overall talents in baseball right now, and he's still very young. If you're looking to build, this is a good place to start.
9. Ryan Howard 1B PHI - Before the All-Star break, you would have probably said "who?" about this guy as well. After the Home Run Derby, however, you're probably now aware that he is a monster talent and a batter to be feared for years to come.
8. Andruw Jones CF ATL - Atlanta has been winning the NL East since I was still in high school and one very consistent piece of that squad is the best centerfielder in baseball right now. He brings power at the plate, as he displayed last year, and you can't overlook what having a great defender patrolling the outfield can do for a baseball franchise.
7. Johan Santana SP Minn - He's arguably the most dominant pitcher in baseball over the last several years and he's still got plenty of years left to build on his legacy. They say pitching wins championships, and although I don't think I'd begin a franchise with a pitcher, he'd definitely be the one I'd choose.
6. Alfonso Soriano 2B/OF Wash - Do I even need to say anything to support this call? He IS the Nationals franchise right now, and I hope that the lack of a trade is an indication that they are going to try and sign him long-term.
5. Ichiro Suzuki RF Sea - Aside from the fact that he is an INTERNATIONAL superstar, which brings a whole new fanbase to a franchise, he is arguably the best leadoff hitter in baseball, and that does a lot to change the complexion of a game when a pitcher has to think about a steal threat while he's trying to get through the heart of the lineup. Ichiro isn't too shabby in the field either.
4. David Ortiz DH BOS - This goes back to the story of last night...and the stories of the ALDS, that I won't bring up. Ortiz is the most clutch hitter in baseball, and I wouldn't want anyone else up to bat with the game on the line. That's obviously saying alot because to build a franchise around someone who only makes an appearance 3-6 times per game would usually not merit a #4 on a ranking sheet. Or an AL MVP???
3. Derek Jeter SS NYY - He's been through it in the past and has proven that he is a clutch batter, fielder and leader. He makes the whole team better by his presence and could arguably be my #1 selection.
2. Alex Rodriguez 3B NYY - Some of the other Yankee fans (and baseball fans, in general) can boo him and get on his case for having a bad spell right now, but the fact of the matter is, is that he is the best player in baseball over the last decade. Yeah, he strikes out when the game is on the line every now and then, but he also contributes to the fact that the game is never "on the line" for the next 3-5 games after that. Hate him all you want, the guy produces.
1. Albert Pujols 1B STL - Pujols is the second coming of A-Rod. And at only 26 years of age, he's already in his 6th year of putting up absolutely ridiculous power and average numbers. If anyone has a chance at the triple crown in the foreseeable future, it's this guy. And if you're talking about building a franchise, there's not even a debate in my mind that he's the guy I'd want.

The Dog Walker

A couple weeks into my mouth being wired, I started thinking to myself, "how is this going to change me?" I was a psychology major in college and I am aware of the effects of conditioning on a person's mind. Would I lose my desire to talk, given the frustration that it causes me? Or would I lose my ability to smile, given that smiling causes me pain as the wires dig into my lips? Or would I become claustraphobic, having lived in a trapped state, with my mouth held shut by an outside force? There's still no telling if any of these will happen, as I am now only about halfway through this process (can you believe it's been a month?)

But what I do know is, something about me has changed. Something shocking and unexpected. You see, before my injury, taking Chloe for a walk was for the expressed purpose of making her tired, so that she would not be as hyper and at the same time attain her necessary exercise. These walks were infrequent in nature and usually lasted about 10-15 minutes, once around the block.

You see, I'm not really that friendly with people in my neighborhood. Most people who walk dogs (like my buddy Bristow) think it's some big giant party and all the dogs are friends and want to talk and socialize. They get to know all the local dog's names and "talk" to them and give them treats as they gossip with the other dog owners around the dog park. What in the hell is this all about?!!

Look, buddy, you're a creepy old man who lives in a house around the corner with dead bushes in the front yard. I don't want to talk to you, normally. And I especially don't want to talk to you while your dog sniffs my dog's ass and gets their leashes all tangled up.

And look lady, my dog can't talk, so stop telling her how beautiful she is and asking her her name. She ain't gonna tell it to you and I'm not gonna talk to someone who communicates with dogs in front of complete strangers, either. And you certainly may not give her a dog treat, because I don't know who you are and I wouldn't let you give my kids candy, and until I have some, Chloe's my closest thing to a kid.

Yep, that was the old J-Man. I'm not sure what made me so jaded. Perhaps it was growing up on 3 acres where my old dog would run free and rarely interact with other dogs. Or maybe it was because I talked with complete strangers all day on the phone, and as I've mentioned before, this makes me want to do anything but that when I'm not working.

So, I would redirect my walks to avoid people, cross the street if another dog was coming, and tug Chloe on like we were in a hurry when interaction could not be avoided.

That is, until about a week ago. As if by some great conditioning miracle, I sat in my study, randomly turned to Chloe and said the magic word..."walk." She goes bonkers whenever I say this, howling and running in circles. Using the Dog Whisperers guidance, I calm her and we exit the house for a walk...a walk that has escalated each day to the point where we are walking about 1.5 miles every day. And when other dogs approach, I give Chloe a moment.

I gave her more than a moment when this hot chick was walking her little dog, Mr. Big, and usually I even begin a conversation with the other walker. Mostly it's been about my jaw because it's a little weird when a wild-haired (yeah, still not cut) man with what appears to be braces slurs his words as he holds his beagle. So usually after I say a couple things, I excuse my slurring and explain that my jaw is wired shut.

Regardless, Chloe and I are now becoming social. She doesn't get a mohawk (not sure why she does that) when every dog walks by, nor does she cower, and I don't loath an imminent conversation with a "five minute friend." We're growing and the positive reinforcement is encouraging the learning.

I still don't try to take Chloe in the direction of other dogs, and it's always stupid when someone asks Chloe her name, but hey, miracles don't happen overnight. But Pavlov would be proud, we're both learning and it has increased my walking to a daily occurrence.

How has the injury changed me?....It's left me so bored, not answering the phones at work, and sitting here alone, that I have become what for the past two years, I have mocked. Yes, I have become a Dog Walker.

Intruders?

So, two nights ago, I'm lying in bed, dead asleep at around 12:15 AM, when I wake up suddenly. I'm not totally sure what woke me because I was still in the daze that accompanies being shaken awake (I've had many stellar cell. phone conversations this way). Anyway, after I gain my bearings, I realize that it is very dark in my bedroom. Then I hear it. It's my alarm system, making a chirping sound like someone just opened a door...but with an added beep.

Things are really clearing up now and I finally realize that my alarm clock is off and everything is dark...my power is out. It wasn't storming or even windy outside, that I could tell, as I made my way to my window to look out and see what's going on. Oddly, the houses across the street and the street lights are on. What the heck is going on here? (chirp, chirp...there goes that damned alarm again)

I'm still sort of in a dream state since it's dark and my mind is racing with all the possibilities of what's occurring. For some damned reason, my mind came up with the idea that someone broke into my basement and cut all the power to stop the alarm from going off. It seemed reasonable enough at 12:15 in the pitch black...especially in the high crime area of North Bethesda. Now I'm in a mild panic. Chloe is slowly stretching in bed, and looking at me pacing around the room looking for some shorts like I'm a mad man. Some watch dog, didn't mean to disturb your wonderful slumber.

I keep listening to see if I hear anyone, but the place seems quiet. (chirp, chirp) Once I locate some gym shorts, I stumble over to my night stand where I usually keep a maglite, just in case. Unfortunately, I can't seem to find it and my cell. phone isn't there either. Great. Then I remember that I left my cell. phone in the bathroom. It's even darker as I enter the bathroom, which has no windows and therefore absolutely no light coming in from outside, but I find my phone and open it to give me a "flashlight." I walk back over to my night stand and see that the maglite was actually on top of it, rather than on the usual shelf inside, and I'm set to patrol the house.

The alarm is still chirping with regularity as I slowly creep out of my bedroom and peer over the landing down stairs. Chloe is following behind me like a cowardly Scooby Doo, wanting no part of a trip down the stairs either. I make my way to the study to see if anything is odd out to the front of the house. Again, the houses across the street to my front all have power. What the hell!?

I still haven't heard anything other than the alarm chirp, so I think calling the police would be a bit drastic, and I can't really talk that well with my mouth wired shut anyway, so I figure I'll go check things out myself.

With maglite and cell. phone in hand, I stealthfully head down the stairs with Chloe two steps behind me, running through the attack moves that I will use on any intruder before bolting to my bedroom to call for police backup, in my head. Nothing strange about that. Once I get to the first floor, I look around and see nothing odd, slowly scaling past the stairs to the basement, en route to the kitchen. Nothing odd going on in there, so I decide to grab myself a butcher knife, just in case. Yeah, I watch way too much TV.

At this point, I'm short on hands, and my damned gym shorts don't have pockets, so I straddle my cell phone over the elastic in my shorts and armed with a butcher knife and maglite in each hand, I make my final leg of the patrol, down to the basement. I'm still sticking with my original thoughts that this is where the intruder is, and I have now devised the plan of blinding the intruder with the light before lunging at him with the butcher knife. Sadly, this is not the first time in the last month that I have done this. My door chime randomly went off a couple weeks ago at like 3 AM without a power outage and I made these same rounds. Yeah, apparently after midnight and home alone I become a crazed Steven Segal wannabe. Who knew??

Chloe finally takes the lead on the final few stairs as I open and examine each closet and room in my basement, before finally ending at the breaker panel. No intruder. No breakers off. And Chloe wants to take a piss.

I let her out back, do a quick patrol of my backyard and finally notice that the row of houses connected to mine is black as Wesley Snipes. Guess we've got an isolated outage. After Chloe finishes up her business, I make my way upstairs and kill the chirp on my alarm, which has been eerily beeping every few minutes during this whole ordeal.

Once I've got that solved, I head upstairs to call Pepco and see what they have to say about this. Thankfully, they have a fully automated system so I don't have to talk, and it informs me that they are aware of the outage and that it should be resolved by 3 AM.

Not sure if I'm gonna wake up when the power comes back on, so I call my little brother and tell him to give me a wakeup call at 7 AM the next morning.

Thankfully, I was awoken by the power returning on at around 1:45 AM and I reset my alarm, as my brother forgot to call in the morning. Should've figured when you call someone at 12:30 at night and give them instructions for the next morning, they're likely to be forgotten.

So, I survived the night and evaded the attack of any intruders. I still locked my bedroom door and put my laundry basket in front of it, just in case. Like you would have done any different.

Where for art thou, Beer?

After a month of consuming almost 40 gallons of liquid, none of which contained a single drop of alcohol, my liver had been asking me what he had done to deserve such a wonderful break. Well, little fella, break time is over.

This past Friday, the long wait came to an end as I joined my brother and one of my employees, Matt, at Caddies in Bethesda for a couple beers. As I have stated in past posts, I have now attained the ability to drink out of glasses and bottles, and my speech, though slurred through the wires, is somewhat recognizable in normal circumstances. I figured I was up for it; plus, I'm going crazy here not being able to do normal stuff, and being newly single and alone piled on top of that just makes things exponentially worse.

So, I sucked up the fact that I wouldn't be hitting on any ladies for fear of scarring (yes, you read that right) them and just went to re-establish my relationship with Miller Lite. To my surprise, the bouncer at Caddies was an old employee of mine, Hector, so it was nice to see him and have him give me a "Holy shit, what happened to you!?" as I walked in the door. Solid start, I'm not self-conscious or anything.

We walk in and do a once around the first floor before heading upstairs. Kevin and Matt are trying to meet up with some ladies that they know, so when we don't locate them upstairs, we grab a brew and decide to just shoot the shit for a while. Unfortunately, I hadn't realized how much louder a bar is than a normal setting (yeah, even Caddies?!) and it is a struggle for either of them to hear me. No wonder ventriloquist use microphones. This forces me to lean in on most conversations, which can border on being kinda gay, especially if the listener turns the way you weren't expecting. No, I will not make out with you!

And I will not go into many of the details of the evening, because quite frankly it wasn't all that impressive, though a nice return to normalcy...or so I thought. Here are some of the finer points from the remainder of the evening:

• Upon meeting up with the ladies, my brother is not quick enough to take charge of the conversation before the girl he knows starts making her own introductions and makes her way to me. I'm uncertain what to do, but I extend my hand and try to say my name despite the noise. Unfortunately, the "f" is pretty much the hardest sound for me to make and when I do open my mouth, she gets a gander at my 'grill'. She definitely took a step back, like I was about to expel acidy spit from my mouth, before she put two and two together and realized that I was Kevin's brother...the one with the broken jaw. Yeah, I'm not self-conscious or anything.
• After one beer, I'm buzzing. After two beers, I'm bloated. After three beers...wait, I was too full to finish a third beer. And I drank three waters, just in case. Wow, tolerance and beer belly volume dwindle rapidly.
• Apparently the beer numbed the feeling in my lips so that I couldn't feel the wires digging into them throughout the night as I spoke with different people. When I awoke on Saturday morning, the inside of my top lip looked like ground beef and the bottom one was not far off.

So Saturday and Sunday, I enjoyed an inability to move my swollen lips as I sat around my house all day rinsing with salt water, only leaving the house twice to walk Chloe. Looks like drinking is gonna have to take a few more weeks off. Enjoy the break, liver. Start rebuilding.

Wow, weekends really aren't what they used to be.

The Transformation

Here is a pictorial of the change that has occurred in the last 3 weeks. I will re-post this each week with a new addition until the final transformation includes all 9 weeks.

This is a picture I took maybe three days before I broke my jaw. I was still weighing 185 lbs. and could actually open my mouth.

Here is a picture of me two days after I broke my jaw, but before my surgery (Week 1). My face is badly swollen, making me look like I put on 40 lbs. and my jaw looks distorted.

Here is a picture of me from July 11 (Week 2). The swelling was gone and I was down to 175 lbs. but still looked somewhat normal. I hadn't discovered that I could use an electric shaver at this point, so I had a goatee.

Here is a picture of me from July 19 (Week 3). I am down to 170 lbs. and looking somewhat emaciated. I have been able to shave though I hadn't gotten my moustache yet, because I don't own an electric shaver and just use one of my employees.

This is a picture of me from July 26 (Week 4). I am still at 170 lbs., but I am trying to make a positive of this whole ordeal by lifting as much as I can (which ain't much when you eat only liquids) so that may be part of the reason my weight is holding. Some minor swelling in my jaw from the wires irritating my gums also makes my face look less drawn, so overall I'm looking somewhat normal, though skinnier than usual. Though, in this particular picture, I feel like I look about 10 years younger.

The Path I Must Take

The option has been staring me in the face each time I visited the grocery store. I have fought the urge, knowing that once I went down that path, that I could never return...that I would never be the same. Though my mouth being wired has taken much from me, my pride had remained in tact. But I could not withstand any longer...I am too weak.

Two weeks into my life eating liquid foods, my body has become weak, I have not eaten anything resembling real food since June and I needed to make a choice. And my choice was to go down the baby food aisle.

Yes, the J-Man has crumbled. Ensure is great. Chicken broth and Cream of Potato soup are palletable. And milkshakes made with canned fruit are a pleasant treat. But nothing can compare with something that claims to be Turkey and Rice.

So there I stood, at 12:00 PM today, shaking from hunger and the added strain of 100 degree heat, pushing a cart through Shoppers Food Warehouse. I knew I was out of soup, so I had filled my cart with Chicken Broth, Cream of Potato, and a new Italian Tomato soup I had just seen, as I made my way to the Ensure stand. Positioned by the Pharmacy, my eyes were drawn to the right, adjacent to the medical needs. There it stood...the baby foods. I grabbed three containers of Ensure and gently strolled over to the tiny little jars.

I'll just see what this is all about. Maybe I'll give one a try, just to see. I mean, I went to Wendy's yesterday and ground up a cup of their Chili...how much lower can I go. And then, like a 7-year old on Christmas, I could not hold back the glee as I saw some of the names on the bottles: Chicken Noodle Dinner; Ham and Gravy; Turkey and Apples. With each label I read, I found myself saying, that sounds good, and plopping the petitte container into my cart.

Gerber Original...sounds good. Oooo, Gerber Tender Harvest...how high brow. Ooohhh, Beech Nut Naturals...now we're talking.

Before I knew it, I had grabbed almost 12 jars and began to gaze around like a timid thief, wondering if people were around, wondering why this unshaven, (hey, I said I could shave, I didn't say I would) skinny man was piling up on the baby stuffs. I reclaimed my body control, re-read one of the labels, and realized I was not yet at the third stage of baby food (Stage 3 has small bits of food to aid in learning to chew...I'm not at that stage yet). I returned a couple of bottles to their place and made the shameful walk to the cash register.

Yes, I am buying baby food with the intent to eat it myself. No, I see nothing wrong with that. It's not like I'm eating dog food or something. I mean babies are just small people...and they like sucking on titties. Now we will simply have TWO things in common. Well, three if we include shitting your pants, but you try and tell me you could stop that when all you eat is liquids and you feel the urge to rip one. Errrrr.

So, I'm back at home, unloading my groceries. I am now truly shaking with hunger as I reach into the bag and pull out the Gerber Chicken Noodle Dinner. I read it could be heated, so I spoon the paste out of the jar and into a bowl. Unfortunately, it is still a bit too thick for me to easily suck it through the gaps in my teeth (damned babies!) so I am forced to add some water to thin it out a bit. After 30 seconds in the microwave, I begin my feast. It is a bit bland, perhaps for the sake of the babies and perhaps because I diluted it with water, so I grab some salt, pepper and garlic powder (they...and soy sauce...fix anything) and the taste of real chicken hits my tongue again.

If you've seen a baby, you'll realize that despite my loss of weight (down to 170 lbs. now) they are considerably smaller than me. So I grab for the Tender Harvest Chicken & Wild Rice and throw that one back as well, along with a cold Strawberry Shake Ensure.

I have walked the path I once walked. I have returned to my humble beginnings. At 28 years of age, I will soon be routinely eating Gerber's finest again.

Don't care what people say.
Just follow your own way.
Don't give up and use the chance.
To return to innocence.
That's not the beginning of the end.
That's the return to yourself.
The return to innocence.

Ooooyy, iiiii, hiiii, ooo, iiii, eee, iii, ooo...

Adapt and Survive

We're at 11 days of living with my jaw wired shut and living under the conditions I had assumed in my earlier post just weren't going to cut it. If I'm going to last this 8 weeks, some changes needed to be made. I needed to go Darwinian style and adapt to my environment in order to survive. And that's just what I've done.

Can't shave...I don't think so. Turns out an electric shaver does not require me to stretch my face in any direction in order to get my moustache and under my lips. So long homeless J-man.

Eating through a straw...I don't think so. Looking like a tard sucking broth through a twisty straw is a thing of the past. I have been training my lips and have now restored my ability to eat with a spoon and drink directly from a glass.

Letting my hair grow long...well, I kinda like this idea, so I'm sticking with it.

Eating only Ensure, yogurt, and chicken broth...I don't think so. Nothing was gonna keep me from Chinese food for 8 weeks, and my vast knowledge of the Chinese food menu presented me with the obvious choice for transforming food into liquid...Ma Po Tofu. I had to have someone else order the delivery, but the people of Beijing Szechuan were happy to hear that familiar delivery address on the other end.

No masturbating...well, nobody said anything about that. Thankfully, that was something that I never had to do without.

Adaptation in order to survive. Soon, I will master the art of ventriloquism and it'll be like nothing has changed. Well except for the fact that I'm still eating freaking liquids!!!!

Deaf Scammers

Looks like the Africans have found a new way to scam people and waste your time. No longer are emails their only means of trying to get you involved in a shady deal...now they are using the deaf phone relay system. And my mom and my company were their latest target.

Monday afternoon, our phone rang and it was the hearing impaired relay service. For those of you who don't know what this is, it is a way for deaf people to contact others via the phone. They type their conversation into some device they have and then a relay operator acts as an intermediary between this typed message and the person they are trying to call. We used to have a deaf client, so I am used to this type of procedure, as was my mother when the phone rang.

We actually haven't heard from our deaf client this year, so my mother assumed it was her at first, until the new caller identified themself as John Mark. My mom is easily rattled by these types of conversations as I usually handled all these calls in the past, but given my wired mouth state, she had to take it. She ended the conversation confused and under the impression that the man wanted us to install a new heater at his house and wanted to know the price. He provided us with an email address and I typed up a very rough estimate for a heater installation, given that he didn't provide her (I told you she gets rattled) with any specifics to the installation. I indicated that we would need to examine his pool equipment prior to presenting a final proposal, but got him in the ballpark.

So, yesterday this same "deaf" guy calls back and indicates that he doesn't want to have it installed but rather wants it shipped out of the country. I've never shipped anything out of the country before, let alone a 220 lb. pool heater, so my gut tell me to send this guy somewhere else. I instruct my mom to tell him to try and find the heater online from a company that does that sort of thing, because I don't want to be bothered with it.

She again gets rattled (man, I wish I could talk again) by the man's persistent requests and asks me what it would cost for the heater, and says that he said he'll handle all the shipping. I say it's about $2000, to which he says he'd like to order one. Well, what the hell!? If he's gonna handle the shipping, he can buy my heater. I definitely need a credit card though. So, she gets a credit card number...which actually worked...and he sends me an email with the shipping company's email address, as well as the address for where it is being sent.

Up to this point, I have no idea where this is going, but when the email arrives and says they want it shipped to Ghana, I know something is up. Nobody ships stuff to Ghana. And why would they choose our company as opposed to an online company that would definitely be less expensive. You see, we can't compete on price with the online guys, our draw is that we stand behind our products and are local...which doesn't really seem to work when you're dealing with Ghana. Anywho, I send their "shipping company" the info on the heater and they write me back to say that the shipping costs will be about $2000.

This seemed about right, but who am I to know...I don't ship crap to Africa. At this point, I'm getting very wary of the whole deal, and when I read that the shipping company only accepts Moneygrams and Western Union payments, I decide this is not something I want to pursue any further. Plus, I don't know what exporting laws and shit are and whether I need a license to ship products overseas. This is becoming a headache I don't need so I send John Mark a note that he's just gonna have to find someone else, because I don't know the specifics of shipping and don't want to waste any more of his and my time if this might not even be possible.

But he doesn't want to take 'no' for an answer. He calls and emails back, begging that we do this and pleading that he will pay for all shipping costs. His credit card worked...but this just seems too fishy. I give him the send off and once that is finished, I figure I'll do a google search and see if this is something anyone has seen before.

Sure enough, there's a couple articles basically outlining the exact same thing that happened here and indicating that in most cases the credit cards that are used are stolen and eventually get revoked.

Well, I guess my gut was right. Too bad this is gonna give deaf people a bad name when they really do want to buy a pool heater. I guess the biggest tip off should have been the fact that they wanted us to send a pool heater to Ghana.

I mean, why the fuck would you want to heat a pool in Africa anyway?

The Good and the Bad

It's been one week of having my jaw wired shut today, with only 7 more weeks to go. And though I'm in very little pain, except when I sleep, the inconvenience of not talking normally and having to eat only foods I can sip through a straw is already starting to wear on me. In this week, I have discovered some new things regarding life with your mouth wired shut, some are good and some are bad. Here's a breakdown of a few of them:

GOOD - I have already lost 10 lbs. and can see a four-pack on my stomach now. Perhaps by eight weeks, I'll see the whole six-pack.

BAD - The reason I've lost 10 lbs. is that my diet has consisted of Ensure, yogurt, and chicken broth

BAD - I can't shave around my goatee area because I can't stretch my face for my razor, so I'm stuck growing a goatee for the next 8 weeks

BAD - I don't want to go to my haircut girl in my state of being and my hair was already long, so it is going to be really long come September. Combined with the goatee and the weight loss, I should look like a homeless guy by week 5.

GOOD - I was scheduled for jury duty on July 18, and now I don't have to go

BAD - I was scheduled to go see Nickelback on July 26, and now I don't want to go

GOOD - I don't have to talk on the phone with clients and hear them bitch for the next 8 weeks

BAD - I tried to deposit my paychecks at an ATM yesterday and realized I can't lick the envelope, so I had to drool on my fingers and rub them on the envelope

BAD - I can only sleep on my back with my head tilted straight up or slightly to the right

BAD - I tried to mash taco-flavored chicken with salsa and cheddar soup in a blender, only to waste 20 minutes of my time making a concoction that clogged my wires and ended up in the trash.

GOOD - A milkshake is considered a good meal

BAD - I can't brush the teeth on the inside of my mouth, so I can feel plaque building up each day, and all I can do is rinse with mouth wash and deal with it

And...

BAD - It seems the "BAD" are outnumbering the "GOOD" and I've still got 7 more weeks of this

Fantasy Baseball - Mid-way

Well, I'm tired of writing about my jaw situation...though I have some other nice stories to come, so I thought I'd turn my attention to fantasy baseball as I've done in the past. Last year, I made some mid-season predictions to go along with my beginning of the year picks and thought I'd continue the trend this year, as well as give an update on my fantasy performances thusfar.

In the 3 leagues I'm in, I'm in 2nd in two and 4th in the other as we sit today, though two of them I've been in and out of 1st place from day to day. Most of my great luck thusfar can be attributed to the absolutely ridiculous hitting of David Ortiz the last few weeks. This guy is gonna start getting the Barry Bonds treatment soon, though Manny batting behind him is making that a tough decision for managers to make. I hope the break doesn't cool him off.

In addition, my formula of stud starter (Halladay/Schilling) coupled with 2-3 high K starters (Bonderman/Haren/Myers/C.Young/RJ) and a high K closer seems to be keeping my pitching staffs pretty solid, thanks to Jeremy Bonderman especially. All three of my teams have the potential to win it all, so with just a few tweaks, I think I can pull out at least one championship...maybe more if I'm lucky.

And here's some predictions for you all to consider as you make your second half moves in hopes of taking home the cash.

Players to TRADE AWAY

5) Justin Verlander, SP Det - This kid is a stud and was one I was hoping to grab in my keeper league. And that's where his value lies. If you're in a keeper league, hold onto him (and his hard-throwing counterpart, and possible future closer Joel Zumaya), but if you're in a one and done league, now's the time to bail. All young fireballers have a learning curve and he's been fortunate enough to have the stuff to get around it. The hitters are gonna catch up with him as the footage mounts, and then they're gonna start bringing him down to earth. Trade him and his amazing start now for a more proven veteran.

4) Nomar Garciaparra, 1B LAD - I'm happy to see that Nomar has bounced back from all the injuries in the past, but I just can't see him lasting a full season. Minor injuries are to be expected, at a minimum, in the second half and that's a headache you don't want from your 1B. See what his value is and consider dealing him now...it's probably not gonna get any higher.

3) Bronson Arroyo, SP Cin - The Arroyo train is starting to loose steam. He has lost 2 of his last 3 starts and is starting to get hit a bit harder. Last year, his second half was considerably worse than his first, with an ERA jump over 1.00. His stats still look amazing, thanks to his ridiculous start, but that'll only last for so long. Send him packing like the Red Sox did. You won't regret it though.

2) Miguel Tejada, SS Bal - The magic is gone. Miguel is not a happy camper and will likely bring up the trade desire issue again, which will bring down his stats in the second half, a la 2005. He's a great player, so he's not gonna turn into Aaron Hill or anything, but you probably drafted him expecting stud abilities and you might wanna deal him now so you can get someone who will bring that for you down the stretch.

1) Mike Mussina, SP NYY - I love the Moose, but this is a no-brainer. He's 37 years old. He hasn't played a full second half of the season in 3 years. He hasn't posted an ERA below 4.00 in 3 years, and it's been on a constant rise for the last 2 months. If you haven't moved him yet, you better hurry.

So, if this is who you should get rid of...who should you get? Well, here you go.

Players to TRADE FOR

5) Randy Johnson, SP NYY - Tons of magazines and writers will tell you that the Big Unit is done for and that his high homerun totals (Schilling and Beckett have more, BTW) and ERA above 5.00 are signs that he's not even worth starting in some leagues. Hope that the RJ owner in your league thinks the same way and see if you can grab him while he's low. He had a bad 1st half last year, but his K numbers and Wins are still there, and 4 of his last 5 starts have been good ones, with the bad one being against the ridiculously good Mets. The old man's not done, and he could be the guy that pushes you over the top.

4) Bobby Abreu, OF Phi - Oh, how the mighty have fallen. This was last year's Home Run Derby champ and now he's got 8 HR in the first half. Unless he's injured, which the 17 steals would suggest otherwise, he's just waiting to hit a groove. See if you can get him now, as he's probably gonna be back with a vengence after a nice break.

3) Prince Fielder, 1B Mil - If you're in a keeper league, you should consider this even more important. Prince has Ryan Howard-capabilities, but is still hovering under the radar thanks to a recent slump causing a drop in his batting average and the fact that he plays in Milwaukee. Howard had 300+ AB last year, and now look at him. Fielder has had 300+ AB in the first half...you figure it out.

2) Adrian Gonzalez, 1B SD - This is my sleeper pick of the bunch and one you likely could just pickup off the waiver wire, if you're lucky. A former #1 pick, he's a solid line drive hitter who I've been reading about since he was in Texas. San Diego isn't that great of a hitter's park, but he's at least getting ABs and is putting up some decent numbers for a young guy. He's finally logged about 450 AB, so he should have his shit together. Look for a solid second half from this virtual unknown.

1) Mark Teixeira, 1B Tex - The guy that kept Gonzalez out of the Rangers lineup and eventually sent to San Diego is actually having a worse year than Adrian. But that has to change. I'm sure the guy in your league that drafted Teixeira (probably in the 1st round) is very bitter right now and may not be willing to deal in hopes he'll turn it around. If that's not the case, move in now. Teixeira will likely do some work during the break to turn those doubles (30!!) into homeruns.

And there you have it, my second half Fantasy predictions. Take it or leave it, but don't say I didn't give you a chance to catch me in the standings.

Living Through the Wire

Well, surgery was a sucess on Monday night and I am now back living without the assistance of my family in my own home again. The last few days have been very odd and I'm sure the next 8 weeks are going to be very difficult and annoying. So, here's a quick recap of how things went down.

I went to the oral surgeon's office on Monday morning to have another set of X-rays taken of my jaw so that he could make his final diagnosis. Unfortunately, all of the X-rays were in paper form so I never got a CD-Rom copy so that I could post it for you guys, so you'll just have to deal with this artist's rendering of the skull and my red additions showing the locations of the breaks.

After seeing the breaks, the surgeon was pretty sure that he would need to cut open the bottom of my chin and attach a metal brace to the bone to help support it in place, since it had shifted out of place so badly. This is the first time during the whole process when I became geniunely scared. He also mentioned that there is a nerve in that portion of the face that if it is damaged could cause constant numbness or a tingle there on my face. Now, I'm not wanting to look like the guy from Braveheart, with a scar across my face, or old JR from WWE with a numb face, so I'm starting to freak out inside. Before he says he'll do this, he's going to wire the jaw shut and see how things go back into place...so hopefully, it will not be necessary. I'm not optimistic at this point, and I'm just hoping that women aren't as shallow as men when it comes to facial issues when all is said and done and I'm trying to find the new J-woman. But I digress.

Action needs to be taken quickly, so I am scheduled for surgery later that day back at old Shady Grove Hospital. Now, I'm not gonna start bashing on the hospital again, but let me just say that they once again shat the bed on making me wait and even the nurses were wondering what took me so long to get there, as they were expected me at 4 PM (I arrived at 3:45) and I didn't make it up to the room until 5:15. Luckily, I was very early for surgery and was really only called in that early since they wanted to give me some IV fluids, since I hadn't eaten anything all day...per their requirements. Surgery wasn't set til close to 8 PM, so I sat bare ass in my gown in a bed for the next 3 hours, thinking about how life is going to be with my new hardened Scarface look.

The moment arrived soon enough and it was off to the operating room. I have never had a surgery before, so as they wheeled me into the stark room, I was less than impressed with the overall appearance. The walls were covered in cream colored 3 X 3 tiles, there were no colors anywhere, the walls were lined with metal tables on wheels, and steel refridgerator looking things, and at the center of the room sat a long bed under to large lights, resembling a UFO, one with 5 lights, one with 10. Two nurses were there and helped me onto the operating bed, before stretching me out in a Jesus pose with all sorts of devices attached to each arm. My legs were then strapped into some other type of warm wrapping as the anesthesiologist arrived. It was July 4th weekend, so he pleasantly introduced himself as my bartender and within moments I'm out of it.

I awoke to the feeling of a nurse wiping vasoline off my eyes (they put it on during the surgery to help them from drying out) and quickly discovered the new addition to my mouth, as I unsuccesfully tried to open it to grab some air. After giving the nurse the thumbs up that I understood her, I gave her the thumbs down that my mouth hurt, so she gave me some morphine and it's on to morning time.

I slowly awoke in a bed in the hospital, and gathered my bearings quickly. I was still attached to all the IVs and still had some vasoline on my eyes, which I rubbed at. Dozing in and out of sleep for the next few hours, I discovered that they brought me some food to eat. I vaguely remember the surgeon coming in and checking things out and a nurse showing me how the bed worked and telling me to eat when I could, since it had been over 24 hours since I'd last eaten.

Here's where things become a little weird. Like a small child, I reached at the food and utensils, unsure how to get this food into my stomach. Before me sat, a cup of water with a straw, hot water in a mug, broth in a bowl, apple juice, lemon italian ice, jello, tea bags, and a packet of lemon and honey, plus two spoons.

The water was easy. I took a few sips and all was good. I have no interest in tea, so the hot water is of no use to me. Broth, eh? Let's give this a try. I use the spoon to bring a spoonful of broth to me, but it's likely too hot. I have no way of blowing on the spoon with my mouth, so I exhale through my nose onto the broth, spilling some on my blankets. There's still some left as I bring it up to my lips and tip it back towards my teeth. It pours in through the gaps in my teeth and I get the flavor of something other than water or milky Ensure for the first time in 3 days. I want more, but this process grows tiresome quickly and I maybe make it through 10 spoonfuls before I move on to the apple juice. You don't even wanna know how my attempt at the jello turned out...and I was smart enough to avoid the italian ice after the jello incident. Once the soup cooled even more, the idea crossed my mind to use the water straw to finish it up. Hell, a guy's gotta eat.

So, I did just that, and a new method for eating has been learned, and soon to be perfected.

By mid-afternoon I'm at my parents' house and I'm learning my new routines. Three days have now passed, I've come to master the use of the twisty straw and now have my new regimen to deal with for the next two months.

• Wake up
• Rinse mouth with salt water (repeat this every 2 hours)
• Take 2 teaspoons of antibiotic through straw (repeat twice more each day)
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from antibiotic
• Drink 8 oz of Ensure or some other liquid food (repeat 4-5 more times each day)
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from Ensure
• Drink water through straw, just because I'm thirsty
• Brush teeth with baby toothbrush with pictures of sheep and bunnies on it...you got a problem with that?!
• Rinse mouth with mouthwash since I can't brush the inside of my mouth
• Rinse mouth with regular water through straw to remove coating left from mouthwash
• Put tons of chapstick on my lips
• Take 2-3 teaspoons of painkiller every 4 hours or whenever needed (this stuff tastes like shit)
• Don't talk too much, because there's a good chance you're cutting your lips on the wires when you move them around, requiring you to rinse with saltwater and take painkiller more often

Yep, that's my life now. A few new routines that I'd gladly do without, but they say you build character through adversity. It's just weird because these routines are like those I encounter when I'm sick, but I feel perfectly fine, so I'm confused with what to do. Regardless, I can't work outside (per the doctor) and I can't really make it through a full day since I'm living off of 32 oz of liquid each day and I've already lost 7 lbs since Friday night. Can't say I'm gonna complain about sitting around most of the day watching movies or playing video games...that's just how it's gonna be for a little while I guess. I'll keep you posted.

You Never Know

You wake up every day and go through your everyday routine. Hell, I've even written about the monotany associated with all the routines I've established in my life and how I just seem to follow them, waiting for the next new routine to be added. But sometimes, you don't get a routine added. Sometimes, your entire routine structure is shot to hell and you're left to try and figure out how you'll cope with the hand you've been dealt and establish your new routines, regardless of whether they were your choice or not. In my case, the choice was not mine.

I woke up Friday morning like any other weekday, made my way to work and handed out the daily schedules for all my crews. It was slightly different today since my brother had left early for a 4th of July vacation and two of my employees had requested to start 2 hours early so they could take a break in the middle of the day to watch the Argentina game. These little adjustments I can deal with. I had known about this stuff in advance, and had planned and altered the schedules accordingly. As the day came to the end, I grabbed myself some Popeye's fried chicken (one of my other employees had gotten some and it smelt good), took my dog for a quick walk and headed off to my Friday night football game.

I had made plans to meet up with my buddy Dave later that night and had a wedding I was scheduled to go to on Monday night, so I was looking forward to a nice vacation of relaxing and having a good time with my friends.

The game began and we went down quickly, 6-0. Their team consisted of about 8 - 220 lb.+ black guys and 3 really shifty fast black guys, so they played to their strength and simply ran the ball at us. I got pancaked, our linemen were non-existent, and our other DBs couldn't catch up to this guy's speed, so it didn't look good for us.

Our first drive, however, things are looking positive. The DB covering me is biting on all my double moves and I get wide open on a stop and go only to have the ball thrown behind me. Probably could have caught it, but I'll get the next one thrown my way. Their safety noticed this and shifted over to my side, allowing our other receiver to beat his man 1-on-1 on the next play for a great TD catch, and after the 2-point conversion, we're up 8-6.

I'm on the ensuing kickoff team and the ball lands between their two rows of receivers and bounces back towards mid-field. I've recovered two kickoffs before and no one seems to be around as I lunge to cover the ball.

And then it's black.

I'm dizzy. I'm not sure what happened. I try to open my eyes, but there is still a haze in the top 3/4 of my vision. I stumble around on all fours, unaware of what is going on, and taste blood in my mouth. My jaw begins to throb and I'm beginning to get some bearings as I search the inside of my mouth with my tongue. My tongue is numb but I definitely feel the side of my bottom front teeth and unmistakenly know that some teeth are not where they need to be.

For years, I have had a recurring nightmare where one of my teeth becomes loose and falls out and then as my tongue moves to push it out, another comes loose, and then another until I am spitting out all my teeth and wake up in a sweaty mess.

Was I living this dream now. In my half conscious state, I couldn't be sure. I tried to get to my feet but the haze had not lifted and I stumbled back to the ground. I yelled that my teeth were missing and scrambled on all fours with other teammates and opponents looking for them, but to no avail. I guess I had swallowed them. In either case, I needed to get to the hospital. One of our players assisted me to the sidelines to grab my stuff and I stopped at the bathroom to examine the seriousness of my condition. I had not really opened my mouth since the event, for fear of spitting my teeth out or doing more damage to myself, and as I stood in front of the mirror and opened my mouth, a pool of blood flowed into the sink revealing my lower jaw. My teeth had not fallen out as originally thought, they were about a half inch lower than my other teeth as the jaw bone between them had cracked.

That was all I could see as my mouth quickly refilled with blood and the mess I made in the Sportsplex was already looking like that of a horror movie. My parents, thankfully, had come to this game, and drove me to Shady Grove Hospital to address this issue.

You would expect that when you walk into an emergency room spewing blood from your mouth and explaining that your jaw is likely broken, that they would see you very rapidly. Not the case. After standing in line for 10 minutes, I (my dad) filled out some paper work and we sat in the waiting room for them to call my name. After waiting an additional 30 minutes, in which time I begin to shake, become dizzy, shiver (which is really bad when your jaw hurts), and think my tongue is cut and I'm about to swallow it, and my father is begging the coffee lady for ice and the Staff for rubber gloves to put it in, they finally called my name. In disgust, I spit about a pint of blood on their waiting room floor for making me sit. I was tired of drinking blood anyway.

When the triage nurse finally asked me to open my mouth, you'd swear I'd just shown her a crime scene photo, as she shuddered back and quickly ran to grab a doctor. I told you they should have seen me immediately. A doctor comes out and has a hurried tone as she requests they get me in the back quickly for antibiotics because I have split my jaw all the way through.

Two hours later, 7 X-rays, and a visual inspection by a different doctor on staff and I am left with this glorious diagnosis.

You have broken your jaw in two places. One from the center of your mouth back at an angle to the right side of your jaw. The other on the left side where the jaw connects to the rest of your skull. You're definitely going to need to have your jaw wired shut and it'll probably be like that for 6-8 weeks, so I hope you like milkshakes. Unfortunately, it is Friday, June 30 at 11 PM and no oral surgeon is available to see you until Monday. Here's a prescription for pain killers and antibiotics and the phone number for the surgeon for you to get in touch with.

Fuck you. Fuck you very much Shady Grove Hospital. Fuck you for making me sit for 40 minutes doing nothing, then another 2 hours while you filled out paper work to give me some drugs and nothing else. And fuck you for expecting me to live with my face like this for the next 48 hours minimum. Yep, Fuck You.

So, it was off to the all-night CVS to pick up my drugs and my Ensure for dizzert so that I could live in a drug-induced commotose state on my parents' couch until Monday. And the light at the end of the tunnel is a new set of routines that involve an inability to talk normally, the necessity to eat only liquids through a straw, and the discomfort of permanently clinching your teeth together for 8 weeks.

And if you were wondering, an email from a teammate of mine confirmed that the player on their team who missed the ball as it bounced over his head towards me, kicked me in the face as I dove down, jolting my head back until it could not bend back anymore, before my jaw cracked under the force. I dropped the ball when I fell unconscious.

And the day started off so normal. You never know.

WTF!!!

Barely two weeks after the retarded (well, handicapped, but we can assume) driver hit my car in the parking lot, some other jackass apparently hit the back end of my passenger side and drove off this afternoon. Either the people who work in my complex are completely incompetent behind the wheel or my car has a giant bull's eye on it, because this is just getting ridiculous.

And I don't even work in an area heavily populated by Asian people. WTF!!! Now I have a 8" horizontal scratch, a double dent and a cracked blinker lense in the back to match the huge scratch-dent combo on the front of my passenger side. Think the middle is lonely? Nope...because some jerk off scratched a large backward "C" on my passenger door about 2 months ago.

At least now I don't have to worry about drinking and driving, because if I hit anything, it'll just blend in. You know what they need to invent...cameras on your car that take pictures in all directions anytime something impacts your car. I'm sure this could easily be done with alarm and camera technology where it is, and it'll pay for itself in my case, because they never tracked down the retard and I have no idea who this new assclown is.

WTF!!!! This sucks.

What is with this rain?!

It has been raining non-stop here for like 24 hours. I'm not talking about a soft drizzle, this is a constant monsoon-style downpour we have going on out there. Thankfully, I have been indoors most of the day. Not so thankfully, most of my crews haven't been able to accomplish much because half of the pools are trapped under pool covers with over 5" of water on them, while the other half are green or brown from the mud that has poured into them from the adjacent planters.

I have never received so many panicked calls from people worried that their pool is overflowing and their basement is flooding. And it's not looking like it's going to get any better in the near future. The long-term forcast is for rain until Saturday, which is really going to make things shitty around here as people plan for their 4th of July weekend. So, who's to blame for all this crap!!!

I'll tell you who...China.

You see, the Chinese have been messing around with the weather to "fight the drought" in China. At least, that's what they'll tell you. What they won't let tell you is that they have used this technology to cause these storms which have devastated New Orleans and put Boston under water...and apparently we (here in DC) are now the next target.

Luckily, I have long been a supporter of the Chinese in my routine purchasing of Chinese food and I have built up a strong alliance with the Far East, Jade Billows and Asian Cafe staff. Should this be a precursor to a Chinese take over of a flooded United States, I will be pleased to enjoy our new local delicacies and harvest the rice in the flood plains that are my backyard.

Save yourself, order Chinese food delivery. It's way to rainy outside to want to drive anywhere anyway.

Bu yong xie, bitches.

Top 10: It's Summer

Well, it's been a while, but I thought I'd bring back an old favorite of mine...the Top 10 List. And seeing as it is about 90 degrees outside and it feels like someone threw a wet dishrag at me when I go out there, here's my:

Top 10 Signs Summer Has Arrived
10. You finish work at 8 PM and it's still bright out as you drive home.
9. Two words: In terns.
8. I'm already bored with baseball
7. When I take my shirt off, it still looks like I'm wearing a white T-shirt thanks to a wonderful farmers tan.
6. The Beltway headed toward the beach is bumper to bumper at noon on Friday, as opposed to 3 PM.
5. The chafing in your groin finally has nothing to do with the suspect women you've been hooking up with.
4. Tits
3. And Ass
2. More than half of your meals are being cooked on the grill.
1. The selection of sports to be viewed is so bad that people are actually getting excited about a sport where you aren't allowed to use your hands.

And there you have it...enjoy the heat.

A Little out of Practice

This past Saturday, my buddies and I went to the Yankees-Nationals game and watched a horrible train wreck occur as the Yankees blew a 7-run, 5th inning lead to lose the game 11-9. One would have to think that would be a low point for my day, being a Yankee fan, but apparently it was merely some forshadowing of what was to come.

Fast forward to about 12:30 AM and there you have myself and my buddies Z, Ike, and Catheter Man hanging out at Millie & Al's in Adam's Morgan (me, in Millie & Al's...go figure!). Anyway, we're in the upstairs bar and we've managed to grab ourselves a couple chairs, though I'm choosing to stand. There's a decent amount of people here and being newly single, I figure this is my first opportunity to check out chicks and actually consider the possibility that I could take one home.

Now, I have not been single for 6 years...meaning the last time I was single we had just gotten over the fact that Y2K wasn't the end of the world, Bill Clinton was still in office, and if someone mentioned the name Osama, I would have thought that was probably the name of the cabbie who just dropped us off in Adam's Morgan. So, as you can probably imagine, this is a bit of a dramatic change in my bar lifestyle.

Now, anyone that has gone out to the bars with me probably is thinking, J-Man can talk to anyone, just give him a couple beers and bring up some random topic and he'll go on and on like a freakin wind up monkey with cymbals.

True. But for some reason, on this particular night, I'm just not feeling it. Perhaps I'm not ready to be "single J-Man" quite yet or perhaps my confidence is low for some reason, or perhaps my brain is mush from a full day of moderate drinking and sun. Whatever the reason may be, a moderately attractive woman is constantly looking at me (in a good way, I believe) and my friends are embarassed by the fact that I am not making any sort of reaction to this blatant stare down.

I shrug it off and say, I'm not in the mood, but Z is having none of it. We all have this friend...the guy that wants you to grab some random ass so bad, you'd swear it was his knob that may get polished if the cards were played right. I actually have a couple of friends like this (which is not necessarily a good thing) and when Z doesn't take my request seriously and begins talking with this girl and informing her that I am being a bitch by not talking to her...I am eventually drawn in by her, "Man, you're friend is really busting on you"

And it's on.

Now, you're probably anticipating some great banter, a few smooth lines by the J-Man and perhaps what could be described as the parts of a porno that you fast forward through to get to the good stuff...but that is not the case. You see, Mariano Rivera just came into the game with only one on, and a one run lead, and the train is about to derail rapidly.

Me: What's this guy saying over here?
(Z mysteriously disappears)
Her: He's just busting on you. (Didn't we establish this fact a few seconds before, which is why I'm over here?)
Me: This guys been drinking all day, you can't trust anything he says.
Her: I've got a question for you.
Me: (blink..blink)
Her: You see when I was coming out here tonight, I was in such a hurry that I meant to grab my ID and my credit card and instead I grabbed my credit card and my Giant Food card.
Me: Well, at least you're saving money on your groceries.

(crickets are chirping now)

And Soriano just stole second

Her: So, do you think I can get into another bar?
Me: Well, what bar are you planning to go to?
Her: Tom Tom's
Me: (My brain finally registers what she's saying after focusing in on how big her lips are...like Angelina Jolie) Wait, how did you get in here?
Her: (some incoherent babble that I forgot)
Me: Well, Tom Tom's is pretty tough at IDing so you might not be able to get in there (she has big boobs), but you're a good looking chick so they'll probably let you in.
Her: Wait, you just said one thing and then said the exact opposite. Why are you waffling? Are you a waffler?
Me: (what the hell just happened, I thought I just threw in a compliment about her looks and now she's accosting me. I looked over at Ike to see if he knew what had just happened, but I'm pretty sure Soriano just stole third and scored on an errant throw by Posada) Uuuuhhhh, I guess I did. I was just saying that you were good looking so they'd let you in even though they're tough on IDing. I guess I was a bit wishy washy in what I said.
Her: Thank you.
Me: (Now I am thoroughly baffled...why is she thanking me?) Why are you thanking me?
Her: (with an odd glare) You just wished me good luck in getting in...so I was thanking you.

Guillen just tripled in Ward and now the train is off the track

Me: (Wishy washy...wish good luck??? I just wanna end this) Uh, yeah. Umm. It's real nice meeting you, but I think we're actually heading out.
Her: (confused and growing disgusted) OK.

And Zimmerman just drove in Guillen and this game's as good as over.

Man, that was an absolutely miserable five minutes. I proceeded to hunt down Z and berate him for his move. Unfortunately the damage was done, my confidence just got a wicked stinger. Looks like I'm a litte out of practice.

Worst Comic Standing

Alright, you may have already thought this yourself several days ago when Last Comic Standing originally aired, but I'm a Tivo guy and I don't watch shit when it's really on, I watch it when I'm good and ready. That being said, I just watched the latest episode of Last Comic Standing where they selected the last 5 (which turned into 7...sorry to ruin the surprise) remaining comics out of like 15, who are supposed to live in the house.

For those of you who have never watched this show, they select 10 up and coming comics to live in a house (a la Real World) and have them perform different comedy related stuff over a period of weeks, and each week one comic is eliminated until they have one comic left. I've watched the last two seasons of the show and though some of the comics kinda suck, the overall quality of the comics on the show is pretty decent...until now.

For some reason, the producers of this show selected Kathy Griffin and Tim Meadows as two of the judges of these comics. What?! How good of a judge of comedy can a D-List celebrity whose only jokes are telling stories about Celine Dion or a guy who had one decent character in like 10 years of starring on SNL be? Oh, I see. Terrible.

In this week's episode, each comic had like 3 minutes each to belch out some comedy, and some of these people were downright horrible. I think the guy from Talk Soup was up there...and made it into the house!!!! And then the really fat Mexican guy with the high voice, who's like the Pillsbury Doughboy version of Carlos Mencia, and who absolutely irritates the hell out of me...he's in the house!!!?? But it gets worse. Some old broad who only focuses on how shriveled her ovaries are and complains that she's about to die...she got in! Then a poor man's version of Ellen Degenerous whose only funny lines came after her set was over...she's in!! Can it get any worse??!!! Yes. They chose a stereotypical goomba wife (who's knocked up) and bitches about how bad her husband is in bed?? That kind of humor was never funny...not since Andrea Dice Clay on "In Living Color." But, there she was, walking her bloated ass onto the stage and into that house. But then, the most annoying and non-funny of all the comedians gets selected...a lady who's showing off her fat stomach while jumping around the stage, overly acting a story of her going to the gym. These comics absolutely sucked.

There were like 4 other funny comedians who deserved to be picked, including the guy who opened for Darrell Hammond at Caroline's in NYC when I was up there for my buddy's bachelor party (and he killed) and the seque guy, who's pure genius. Why are these guys going home?! Why were they not picked?! Not since the Ricky Paugh incident has the picking of comedy been this horrendous. And then it dawned on me.

This is not a show about finding the best comic. This is a show about comics living in a house together, pretending to be a show about finding the best comic. Just like the "Real World" seems to always have some chick with an eating disorder, a fag, a stupid redneck, and an overly aggressive black man...Last Comic Standing wanted a retard (yes, they have one), a dyke, an angry old bitch, a fat guy, and your stereotypical goomba.

Todd Glass wasn't funny because he was a retard.
Ant wasn't funny because he was gay. (well, he wasn't funny)
Kathleen Madigan wasn't funny because she was old and angry.
Ralphie May wasn't funny because he was fat.
And Tammy Pescatelli wasn't funny because she was Italian.

They were actually funny comedians...let's not try and re-create them NBC!!

So, for those of you who have missed the first few episodes and were hoping to catch up now, you're in for a big let down. If you wanna see good comedy, watch Comedy Central...'cause these guys suck. Where's Jay Mohr? He wouldn't stand for this.

Black Cloud

I swear, there is a black cloud lingering over my head recently. As you may recall, there was the debacle a few weeks back where my car needed new tires and brakes, and I lost over a grand in Vegas. Well, apparently Lady Luck has decided to let me flounder a bit longer.

On Friday, I get back from working out on the road to find a note from the lady who works next door to my office. Her note says that a White Toyota Corolla with handicapped (of course) tags hit my car, and then drove away. Now I have a huge dent/scratch combo on my front right bumper and some 'tard woman running around thinking she got away with it. Well, I'll show that special little bitch. I sent her info onto Geico so they can track her handicapped ass down to pay for this shit.

Then, on Monday, I wake up feeling like shit, so I decide to call in sick. I'm resting when the phone rings and my mom calls me from work to tell me that another 'tard (this time, not clinical) hit one of my vans on Connecticut Avenue, and who's driving that truck but my one driver who isn't covered by my policy and is only driving for a week while another guy is out of town for a family reunion. Needless to say, the lady driving the other car is, of course, stating the accident was his fault, even though the dent is obviously from her hitting him, and now my insurance company is giving me a hard time.

Can it get any worse?!! Oh, yes. My computer at work...the one with all of my proposals and documents...as well as my 7000 poolowner list...and all my work order templates...has crashed and will not restart. Hopefully a geek visit on Thursday morning can resolve this issue and right this ship.

At least it was my neighbor's house that got hit by lightning on Thursday night. I guess their black cloud was a little bigger.

I Alone

For the first time in my 28 year existence, I am living alone. This morning, at 7:30 AM, my newly ex-girlfriend Amy and her step father began their long drive to Colorado, leaving me (and Chloe) alone for the foreseeable future.

It's very strange coming home to a house that you have only known with the presence of someone else in it, and they're no longer there. Amy took not only herself, but with her left a warmth to the house as a whole. I'm not much for flowers and brick-a-brack, but that was Amy's forte. You'd be surprised what a difference a wicker dish with potpouri in it can do to the entire feeling of a bathroom. What was soft and peaceful, is now cold and sterile. How do women do that?

The other strange thing is that the place seems very empty. Amy did not have much furniture, but what she did have was a part of the living space that I had grown accustomed to...and now it is gone. A full closet in the bedroom is empty and the spare room has only a rug in it. Heck, my study, where I am right now, has only this computer table, a printer stand and Chloe's window chair to go along with the big empty wall where Amy's computer used to sit.

But nothing is more jarring than the idea that the person that was here to listen to my gripes, to share my free time, and complement my overly excitable nature with her calmative reasoning for most of my post-college life, is no longer around.

Am I sad? More than you'll ever know. But hopefully time will help me to make new memories in this house, in my life, and I will not regret the choices I have made. I have never been religious, though I consider myself spiritual, so I have been asking, "God, give me strength."

Don't worry about me, I knew this wouldn't be easy and I always bounce back. I usually shield my feelings behind jokes and humor, but today, I feel it's best to let it go. But soon, the humor will return to the blog.

A New Beginning

A change was needed. I wasn't happy. It just didn't seem like we were on the same page. I just didn't expect it to be so obvious that now was the time. Last night, I quit my football team. I had been playing with this group of guys for a while now, though I had just recently changed from my previous squad to the "Dream Team" of guys, assembled to win the championship where our old team had fallen short. Most of the best players from my last team were with me and we added a new quarterback as well as a safety, and a mishmosh of fill-in guys and things were looking great to start.

Everything was fine. I felt it was a little weird playing with a new quarterback after having played with my younger brother as quarterback for the last 5 years, but the team was winning so I didn't have any gripes.

As the weeks went on though, I started picking up on some of our differences, and I knew that things would probably not work out in the long run. Our quarterback was insistent on throwing the ball deep and would force the ball to another receiver in particular, regardless of how well he was covered. For the most part this didn't harm us in the early going, and I learned to deal with life this way. But as anyone can tell you, the little problems can fester and eventually become big problems and eventually lead to a breakup.

So, we've lost and tied our last two games of the season after shutting out our opponents the first 5 games. Our QB is forcing the ball and now it's resulting in dropped passes by that receiver or interceptions...and I'm getting frustrated running routes when there's little chance I'm gonna get the ball.

Am I not a good wide receiver? Am I not as fast as I used to be? I felt like I was good just a few weeks before when I was playing for the other team, but now I'm not sure. My confidence was dropping and the losses are even more frustrating because I'm not even happy just playing.

So I talk with my old team and they need some guys for a fill-in as they are short handed one game. I've got nothing better to do, so I play with them. Several catches, a touchdown, and an interception...I've still got it. I'm not bad all of a sudden, I'm just not in the right place.

But I've made a commitment to this team and to switch squads near the end of the season would be rude and foolish...plus I've paid to play and we still could win the chamionship. So last night, we played our first playoff game.

The game begins and our same problems are slapping me in the face. I'm being covered by a 5'6" kinda fat white kid and he's trying to bump me at the line. I'm wide open nearly every play, and yet the passes continue to go to the same now-double covered receiver. I bring my mismatch to the quarterback's attention, but nothing changes. He attempts to throw the ball to me once, which I catch for a 20-25 yard gain, only to have the play called back due to a hold on the offensive line. I can't stand it any more, we're down 0-11 and I know we should be winning, if only we were on the same page.

And then it happens. Our lineman, who's acting as the coach, lets some random shithead, who claims to play semi-pro ball and who they brought in to be a playoff ringer, take my spot and I have to sit the last drive of the season. By the way, wouldn't you think that a semi-pro player should get paid? Isn't that the whole difference between pro and rec? I guess he must be more semi and less pro, though he somehow gets the QB to throw him two straight passes to start the drive, which he proceeds to let go right through his hands.

And at this moment, I knew our relationship was over. It couldn't have been more of a slap in the face than to not only get benched in a rec game, but to have it happen for no reason (I haven't dropped any passes, and I scored a TD the game before, despite only getting that one pass thrown my way) and to be replaced by someone who has only come to one other game of ours and is a giant douche.

So I take off my jersey, take off my gloves, and wait out the last 1:30 on the clock before making my final exit. In case I didn't mention, we lost 0-11, ending our season. We were a good team, but not a great team, and apparently we couldn't win a championship together. And since I wasn't happy, it's best I move on. And if I also didn't mention, my 6 year relationship with my girlfriend ended one week prior to this debacle. It's time for a new beginning.

Thank you all for your support thusfar. I'm sure I'll find a team where everyone is on the same page soon enough.

Who's at fault?

So, I'm driving to a job today in my car and I'm sitting at a light waiting to make a left. It's all one way traffic for both streets in a relativley residential area (Bradley Blvd. & Wilson Lane for the locals). Traffic is constantly coming from the other direction so I'm just sitting there until there is a large gap between a car and a white van. At this moment, I decide I'm gonna make my turn and it also turns out that right at this point the light is turning yellow, so I need to get out of the intersection to begin with.

So, I start making the turn, at which time a pedestrian sees the light turning yelling and starts hauling ass to try and cross. He doesn't make it into the intersection, thankfully, because he sees me turning, but I was about a half a second from slamming on my brakes to prevent myself from hitting him if he had.

Meanwhile, the white van floored it to try and make the yellow light and barely missed hitting me even without me stopping for the pedestrian.

I successfully make the turn and no one is hurt or hit by anyone else, but then I start thinking that I was about one hair away from a serious accident...and I started wondering, "who would be at fault?"

I figured it would have to be the white van, since I was already in the intersection at the time and he was accelerating into a yellow light, rather than yielding (yeah, that's what it actually signals). But, maybe I would have been at fault since I was crossing the path of the white van. Or would it be the pedestrian for attempting to cross at an inappropriate time. Though there are no crossing signs at this intersection, it surely would have been red since the light was yellow.

Thankfully, I don't have to deal with knowing who truly is at fault, because that would have really put a damper into a perfectly good FRIDAY.

Would You Rather Be...

"An alcoholic or chubby?" (overweight, but not morbidly overweight)

I heard this one on the radio today and they were going to say what percentage of people chose one over the other, but I ended up getting out of the car before I heard the answer. I guessed that it would be like 70/30 in favor of the alcoholic (which is what I would choose), but what would you go with?

Both will kill you in the long term, but at least with the alcoholic, you can be physically active until your liver gives out. They both cost alot, what with the food and liquor bills, so that's sort of a wash. As far as the ladies go, Nicholas Cage was able to pull Elizabeth Shue in Leaving Las Vegas, so that gives hope for the alkie. Fatties have a bit more trouble, though Professor Clump did pull both Jada Pinkett and Janet Jackson in the Nutty Professors, so there's still a chance there.

Well, there's some pros and cons for each, but I'm still sticking with my gut (no pun intended) and going with the boozing over the feasting.

Happy Mother's Day

Alright, it's time I started posting regularly again, as I've really gotten away from this and I feel that the writing helps me to purge some of my day-to-day tension, much like masturbation. But, you really can't blame me for not writing. It's been a truly ridiculous bunch of weeks, including a one day road trip to Charlotte, a wedding weekend where I was one of the groomsmen (thank you for that honor, and Congratulations to Kelly and Scott), and most recently, the sudden firing of my girlfriend from her job the day before she took a week-long trip to Tucson, which is where she is now. And, of course there's the swimming pools.

So, with all of this drama and excitement in my life, what do I want to write about today: Mother's Day shopping...of course.

You see, with all of this drama and extensive hours of work, I haven't had any time to really think through what I was going to get for the person who brought me into this world, my mom. And that was my goal for today.

I work with my mom, so I see her on a daily basis and spend most of the day in our smelly warehouse with her, answering phones and mocking some of the retards that call in looking for pool work. On a completely unrelated note, a house in my neighborhood just went up for sale and the realtors name is Gay Ruth. Now back to the story at hand. As I was saying, though I spend all this time with my mother, unfortunately, I really have no idea what it is that she could possibly want for Mother's Day.

My dad pulled a swift one and beat us all to the chocolate covered strawberries gift, which he presented to her on Thursday. It was a deft move giving the gift on a weekday, in advance of actual Mother's Day, limiting the possibility my two brothers or I could steal this simple gift idea from him.

I think we've given her something from Bath & Body Works (the ultimate female cop out gift) at least twice a year between Mother's Day, her birthday and Christmas, so there goes a second option. With those two options off the board, it's off to the mall for some brainstorming.

I jumped into the car and headed over to Montgomery Mall, forgetting that it was Saturday and 12:30 PM until the moment I hit the parking lots. Sweet fucking Christ! After years of working at the mall through high school, I seemed to have forgotten how miserable a place it is on Saturday afternoons. As I ventured into the mall, alone, I was confronted with mobs of women and teenagers swarming in all directions...none of them speaking a word of English (God Bless America). I wandered up and down each of the wings of the mall, only to come to the realization that the only stores in the mall are shoe stores and clothing stores for sluts that have the bodies of 12 year old boys. If any one of you sons of bitches even makes a comment...

So, that was a wasted trip. And then it hit me. I had overlooked the most obvious of all cop out gifts. When in doubt, don't buy anything...let the person you're shopping for do that. Yep, the old gift certificate. Speaking of gift certificates, this brings me to a little theory that I have come up with, which has served me well when dealing with buying gifts for females, even mothers.

"Don't buy clothing for women." I guess it's less a theory and more the eleventh commandment, intended solely for men. You see, if you buy a woman clothing, you're going to get in trouble. Why? Real simple: If the clothes are too big, then you think that she's fat; If the clothes are too small, then she "is" too fat. Either way, you have an upset woman and nothing lingers longer than a woman upset over her weight. But J-Man, what if it fits perfectly? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Put down the half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, close the other open window on your computer (which is porn), take a shower, shave, and go get yourself a girlfriend, because you obviously have never had one.

But I digress. Like I said, the gift certificate was perfect. I pulled this one before a couple years ago with Legal's Seafood and Carabba's, and I'm not sure exactly where my mom shops for clothing, so this time I thought I'd try something a little different. After some thought, I drove up to Regal Cinemas in Germantown, and grabbed my mom a nice gift certificate for a couple trips to the movies. Yep, the movies.

Because nothing says, "Thank you for giving me life, nurturing me through my youth, putting up with my teenage angst, paying for most of college, and dealing with my cursing tirades each and every workday" like buttered popcorn and 2-hours of Tom Hanks.

Like you did any better.

Getting Older

It's been a while since I've had any free time and therefore, it's been a while since I've had a chance to put up a blog entry...I'm sure you all have really missed it. The pool season is in full swing and with it comes the switch from 20-40 hr weeks to 70-80 hr weeks for the next two months or so. It's truly amazing how one week I'm off at 4 PM every day and the following Monday, I'm barely getting done at 8 PM. That's what it's like when you're in a seasonal business, so you just have to suck it up and adapt quickly because you only have 7 months to make a full year's worth of income.

Of course with the start of the season comes the start of new hiring and employee issues. You see, no salaried employee complains when they're taking home a check when they're working 20 hours a week...they only complain when they're taking home the same check and working three to four time longer. It seems like it's the same problems every year, just with different twists and reasons behind their desire to make more money. And yet, every year, it always seems new and concerning to me...I guess I haven't learned to be a cold, heartless employer yet. And perhaps a change is needed. A significant change in the way I handle my business...and my life.

For the past seven years since I've graduated from college, my life almost feels like I'm running on autopilot. Sure, I make a big decision here and there, such as buying and selling my houses, and eventually splitting ways with my old work associates two years ago, but for the most part, it feels like I'm just going through the motions and life is happening around me. Maybe that's how it is for everyone? At some point, you chose your profession, you chose your partner, you chose your lifestyle, and now you just react with the situation and complete each day, only to repeat the process the following day, and week, and month, and year.

And now I'm 28 years old, living in a house in Rockville with my girlfriend, dog and cat, working feverishly in the Summer and relaxing in the Winter, grabbing a beer or five with my friends on the weekend, playing football every Friday and Sunday, eating sushi once a week at the Sushi buffet, reading sports columns in anticipation of the baseball and football seasons, and watching my hair get thinner and my muscles ache more after each exersion.

Is this what getting older is all about? Adding more and more routines and set pieces to your life until you have every day completely consumed with set plans or commitments, only to complete them and move on to the next day of the same? Is this what hippies are fighting (are they still fighting?) against? Is this what it means to be a part of "corporate America"? Is this when I realize that my life is not like a video game and I can't just re-load from my last save point and try a different path? Will Katherine McPhee win American Idol and become Kelly Clarkson, Part Duex? Could I have thought of a more depressing first entry after two weeks of not writing?

Hey, you're getting older too.