silver linings

So, for a while, I've been contemplating moving to the west coast. From what I hear, it's a lot more laid back and upbeat than the manic, bitter northeast, where I've spent my entire life. I suppose it's not that terrible in the spring and summer, but once the temperature drops below 35, and every day is either gray, rainy, snowy (or all of the above), the attitudes of just about everyone become ridiculously unpleasant.

This morning, I awoke to see that we were going to reach our highest temperature of the week (a balmy 35 degrees), as well as receive a good dose of "wintry mix" (a sweet Robert Frost-esque way to describe simultaneous rain, sleet, and snow). Wonderful. I also awoke to see that my room was a mess, because apparently when I came home from my company's holiday party last night (and enjoying a few cocktails of Christmas cheer), I decided to do a little "redecorating". Brilliant. This day had the potential to become one of the most miserable days ever.

After walking, slipping, stumbling, and almost falling flat on my face as I walked along the ice- and slush-lined sidewalks of Cambridge, I finally reached that great beacon of humanity: the bus stop at Kendall Square. As I envisioned, all of my commute-buddies had perma-pouts on their faces, mad because they had to go to work, frustrated that its almost-but-not-quite the weekend, and depressed that the weather has been craptastic all week. "Ahh yes, the beginning of a wonderful day", I thought to myself.

Twenty minutes go by. No bus. This wasn't really anything out of the ordinary; the CT2 bus schedule is quite possibly the least reliable schedule on the planet. Thirty minutes go by. I'm a little aggravated, since one bus is supposed to come every 20 minutes, but again, this is not the first time this has happened. People are getting visibly perturbed, walking out from under the roof of the bus stop; demeanors are changing from listless boredom to slightly irritated restlessness. Forty five minutes go by; the bus comes! Oh wait, no... the banner on the side says "OUT OF SERVICE". Lovely. Groans of "Are you kidding me?!" and "It's been almost a friggin' hour! When's this damn bus gonna take me to a job I sure as hell don't wanna go to?"

And then, something surprising happened: people started laughing. Other people chimed in: "If I wanted to wait this long for a ride, I would've stayed home with my wife!" "It didn't take the Sox this long to win the World Series!" "Yeah, this bus is never coming is it?" (the last guy wasn't that clever... think Brick, from Anchorman... but he wanted to join in with the group... no complaints from the crowd.) Somehow, a combination of cold temperature, miserable weather, and a late bus was able to lift the spirits of crazy, bitter northeasterners and turn them into friendly, amicable people.

After the bus came, 61 minutes after its scheduled arrival, it was greeted with a thundering round of applause. And I ended up having the most enjoyable commute to work that I've ever had. Strangers were talking to each on the bus, commiserating about how much trouble they're going to get into at work for being an hour late. People actually said "excuse me" when they were passing down the aisle to exit the bus. And just about every person had a smile on their face.

Who needs southern California when you've got gray, dreary, rainy Boston?

(I do, but still... fun times.)

is the price actually right?

One of my dreams has always been to be a contestant on "The Price is Right". I feel like, after watching this amazing testament to consumerism on countless sick days over the last 24 years, I have an uncanny ability to make the correct guess or select the proper strategy for every game that they host. Plinko? I'm hitting the $10k or $25k slot every time; Cliff Hanger? That little dude isn't going over the edge on my watch. Dice Game? I could roll those fuzzy dice and pick the right numbers in my sleep. I'm fairly sure that most of the people who actually make on to the show share this sentiment. Now, what I don't understand, is how every single contestant selected for a given game always asks the audience for help with their task. Every single one!!

Why!?! You've been watching this show for years, constantly telling yourself "oh man, I would've picked $14.95... everyone knows that 4 boxes of pancake mix wouldn't cost $24.95... idiot!", and then as soon as you're up on the stage next to Bob, you're asking stoned college kids and housewives on vacations for advice?! Stick with your gut! Make your own choices!

Is it possible that this can viewed as a deeper insight into the human persona? Is it possible that we actually know the correct answers to life's questions most of the time, but because we have such a fear of rejection we decide to succumb to the collective will of our peers and colleagues? Or, on the other hand, is it possible that in solitude, we like to believe that we are smarter than we are, but when presented with a challenge in a public setting, we are humbled by the fact that we truly don't know anything?

The Price is Right... ponderous.

who's the turkey?

Happy Thanksgiving!

billy goats gruff is crap.

Recently, one of my friends included a nice little writeup on her blog about an encounter between Muhammad Ali and the president of our fair country. The details are insignificant to this post (check out SR's post anyway though), but there was a reference to the fairy tale of The Billy Goats Gruff. (If you're a little rusty, here's a refresher)

Most fairy tales have morals... don't underestimate people/don't be overly cocky (tortoise and the hare), don't lie (the boy who cried wolf), etc... but what exactly was the precautionary measure exemplified in The Billy Goats Gruff?

JJ: what do you think the moral of the billy goats gruff story is?
SR: i'm thinking it's travel in packs?
SR: or don't be a dumb troll and let others walk through your yard
JJ: so its saying, give the goats some shit even if they're small and cute because they're really only out to fuck you over
JJ: they'll smile to your face, and then get their enforcer to kick your ass
JJ: dude, those goats are dirty
JJ: i'm getting more and more sympathetic for the troll
SR: i think the message is actually... don't fuck with anyone because there's always someone bigger than you
SR: so it's like a negatively put golden rule
SR: don't fuck with anyone if you don't wanna be fucked with
SR: i think that's a fair message
JJ: ok, but look at it this way
JJ: lets pretend the troll's not a "troll", per se
JJ: he's just a normal dude who keeps to himself
JJ: first of all, he's got this really crappy apartment below ground level that's probably reeking of moisture
JJ: then he's got these uppity little punks traipsing all over his ceiling, making a buttload of noise when he just wants some peace and quiet
JJ: he voices his complaints, but then he just settles down and doesn't worry about the first or second noisemakers
JJ: when he finally gets the cojones to step up to one of these ass-clowns, he gets his ass beat
JJ: you know, the story makes its point, literally
JJ: "don't let punks walk over you"
JJ: if you let one person do it
JJ: then you're just inviting more people to do it
JJ: and eventually, its going to come back to bite you in the ass

bee stings, and the meaning of life

Sometimes, things don't go the way you want; you miss a bus, you forget to buy toilet paper... whatever. Everyone deals with these little things everyday. But what do you do when something catastrophic happens? What do you do when the person who you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with up and walks out the door? What do you do when one of your best friends is a victim in a horrific car accident? What do you do when the man who made you what you are (both literally and figuratively), who has literally known you since the second you were born, is taken from you far too early?

These scenarios all seem way too unlikely to happen randomly, out of the blue, don't they? Fairly recently, I was like most people; growing up in the suburbs, I had a latent, subtle feeling of invincibility. Now, I know what a lot of you are saying: "I've never felt invincible; I know that I have limitations on everything that I do." But be honest with yourselves... do you really think that you're in any imminent danger right now? Will you be in danger by the end of the day? What about your friends and family? Of course not; they're all working, or taking classes, and then they're going home to probably have an uneventful night. One of them might be a little sick, one might stub their toe after dinner, and one of them might go out to a club, but no one's anticipating anything of any significance to happen.

Now think about what might happen if one of the more intense "catastrophic" events that I described earlier happened to you or a loved one. How would you feel? I don't know about you, but I, aside from succumbing to overwhelming grief, would immediately have serious thoughts about my own mortality . How do you deal with everyday functioning when someone that's been as close to you as your right hand is suddenly chopped out of your life? How do you drive to work in the morning when you know that, on a street very much like the one you're driving down, someone deeply close to your heart has lost the ability walk? Not only do these things frighten/scare/anger you when you first hear about them, but they continue to hurt everytime you're reminded of them. If, through some unfortunate circumstance, you were to experience more than one of these tragedies in a short period of time, how would you cope with them?

For many people (myself included), I think the initial reaction would be to just stop. Stop working. Stop going out. Stop reading. Stop doing whatever it is that makes you happy. The overwhelming nature of it all would just be too much. And you might even be able to make some sort of depressing rationalization for everything: "Well, if I get hit by a car tomorrow, what's the point of me working extra long hours at the office today?" "If there's a chance that I might just suddenly collapse from a heart attack in a couple years, why should I even apply to grad school?"

And honestly, if someone had presented me with those hypotheticals, I'm not sure how I'd respond. I mean, you can say "Shut up, that's just really depressing talk" or "Don't say things like that, you don't really mean that". But you really can see how someone might want to just slink off into nothingness, realizing that drastic, monumental changes can happen to you that are 100% out of your control. It's a pretty terrifying realization.

But then, I had an epiphany (not an epiphany at all, actually... I read an article on ESPN, hahaha). And with this epiphany, I realized the meaning of life. Yes, I said it, the meaning of life. And it resides in the fact that although huge, devastating things can happen, life is really all about the little things. Here's a little excerpt from the article (it's a little football-oriented; deal with it):

"When I was younger, a coach asked a team I was on, 'Have any of you ever been run over by an elephant or struck by lightning?' No one raised their hand. Then he asked us, 'Has anyone been stung by a bee?' And we all raised our hands. 'See,' he said, 'life is all about the little things.' Everyone worries about the big things, but life is about the little things. It's not about the Super Bowl but all the tiny little things you do in the process of trying to win that Super Bowl.

"When you go through the things I have, that idea really hits home: Nothing is guaranteed except this very moment, except these little things you're doing from moment to moment, so you better make them count. So I'm gonna ride this thing until the wheels fall off, until someone taps me on the shoulder and says, 'Son, that's it, you gotta go home.' And that's the feeling on this team, too. We're gonna ball till the wheels fall off."

So yes, physical and emotional trauma happens. It's terrible. But here's the thing; what makes losing someone hurt so much is the fact that we were able to have so many good memories with them. So, yes it still hurts me more than anything to think about the painful experiences that I've had in the not-too-distant past. But I know that life isn't about dwelling on the pain that you've felt. It's about sharing memories of the good times. And its about continuing to make more and more good memories, because at the end of the day, that's all you really have.

And quite frankly, that's all you need.

(here's a link to today's inspiration... this dude's a beast, and my hero of the week)

and you people wonder why i'm crazy...

Both of these notes were written in the same article; each team is only supposed to have one note written about it...

St. Louis Rams (4-4)
I've seen it happen many times. Your stars are hurt, the guys on the field raise the intensity level and win. This works, though, only if the talent drop off isn't too great, which is the situation with the poor Jets.


New York Jets (2-5)
What's the only thing worse than a struggling 41-year old quarterback? A struggling 41-year old quarterback who's nursing an injury. What's the only thing worse than a struggling 41-year old quarterback who's nursing an injury? A struggling 41-year old QB who's nursing an injury and playing behind the back-up center. What's the only thing worse ... This can go on as long as you want, depending on the space situation.

Argh...

being old

When did we get so old? I remember being a little kid, collecting comic books and playing in little league.

I remember middle school, getting over the fact that girls had the cooties.

I remember high school, learning to drive and going to parties that didn't have birthday cake.

I remember college, and ... and... ok, I remember having nights which are complete blanks in my memory.

And now, I'm 24? Rent checks? Utility bills? Buying my own clothes? Being in my mid-twenties? What happened to my early-twenties? I didn't sign up for this.

In a while, I'll have some job (doctor? eh, we'll see how that goes).

After that, I'll have a wife (again, we'll see how that goes).

After that, I'll have a kid or two.

But what's this BS period that I'm in now? I'm supposed to be mature and responsible, but I sure don't feel like a responsible adult. I'm supposed to take advantage of my youthful years, have fun and experience the world, but I've got work to go to, schools to get into, and bills to pay. This age is like some sick catch-22. Writing about it is making my head hurt, but this scene from a cinematic classic pretty much sums up my feelings on growing up:

3rd Grader: How's high school Billy?
Billy: High school is great. I'm learning new things and everyone is really nice.
3rd Grader: Gee, I can't wait till I get into high school.
Billy [whispering]: Don't you say that. Don't you ever say that. Stay here. Stay here as long as you can. For the love of God, cherish it. You have to cherish it.

my friends are great

Even though my next post is all about being mature, this is a great picture. I wasn't actually present when this took place, but it was part of my birthday weekend so it's getting thrown in anyway.















Yes, that's a jack-o-lantern, and yes, those are Miller Lite bottles.

gear grinding

(note: a real post is coming... this is just filler for everyone who was tired of reading the red sox/yankees stuff)

You know what really grinds my gears?

• people who don't believe poker is a skill game
• tim mccarver and jerry remy
• people who take themselves too seriously
• boston bars not having happy hours or drink specials
• boston bars staying open till 2 but public transportation ending at 12:30. there's gotta be some serious corruption between the city of boston and the cab companies on that one.
• red sox fans who preach about yankees fans being "bandwagon fans" or "fake fans" , and yet don't know at least 2 of the following players: mike greenwell, mo vaughn, and john valentin.
• bad liars (note: i have no problem with lying; i actually do it a lot, concerning trivial matters. but if you're going to do it, don't make it so obvious that i know you're lying to me... then i'll really hate the fact that you're both not telling me the truth and you're undermining my intelligence. i mean, come on... this is me; i'm smarter than you. i can tell when you're lying)
• nice guys finishing last
• people who enter subway cars/buses without letting people exit first
• not having cell phone reception in my house
• anyone who thinks "10 things i hate about you" is a better movie than "blues brothers"
• fat people who don't exercise
• skinny people who don't eat healthy
• gossip queens (they can be men, too, but i'm still calling them "queens"... ACLU, bite me) who act very nice to your face, then yap behind your back. be like me... talk about people behind their back AND to their face.

"I'm a shoe-in... for hater of the year."

-Silky Johnson

(The Yankees lost their series in 5 games, the Red Sox were swept in their series 3-0)

lame quiz, bored at work

I guess that somehow makes sense... being a conglomerate of Brian, Lois, and Quagmire... weird. I thought for sure I'd be either Brian or Stewie... whatever, this is retarded.

You scored as Quagmire. Your Glen Quagmire the neighbors of the Girffin's and good friend of Peter.Hilarious character that always thinks about sex. Who else but quagmire. Quagmire 63% Lois Griffin 63% Brian Griffin 63% Peter Griffin 50% Stewie Griffin 50% Cleveland 50% Joe 50% Chris Griffin 38% Meg Griffin 38% Find out what Family Guy character you are. (pics included) created with QuizFarm.com

playoffs - post 2

Tuesday afternoon interoffice e-mail dialogue, circa 2:00 pm (red sox play at 4:00):

JJ: Red Sox Nation... needs to be bombed. Immediately.

C: You really do need to spend the month of October in New York...you're totally going to be/are that angry guy who yells for no reason at all on the subway or "T" as you call it.

JJ: As far being angry... well, as long as the White Sox knock out the Red Sox in the first round (and we all know they will), I'm going to be pretty content up here in ol' Beantown during October. Seeing Red Sox fans sad about their team will actually cheer me up much more than seeing the Yankees win. I mean, I've already seen them win 4 titles!

Tuesday afternoon intraoffice e-mail dialogue, circa 3:45pm:
T: the sox start their first game soon. i will keep you posted!!

(15 min later...)
JJ: I think something's wrong with my computer... it says that the White Sox are winning 2-0, but it's only the bottom of the first inning! Do you have the real score?

T: SHUT UP!!!! ONE MORE COMMENT AND WE ARE NO LONGER FRIENDS!!!!!!!

My end-of the day email:
interoffice hostility has grown 100-fold in the past 10 minutes...
white sox: 5
red sox: 0
# of rabid sox fans who have been reminded of that: all

Commentaries:
T: I don't even know where to begin to respond to that!! I am deeply hurt. I thought we were friends and that I could get past the fact that you were a (shudder) yankees fan. Apparently I can not!

C: hahahahahaha...you're so getting fired by 5:00

K was going to email a response, but she was too appalled... she physically came down to my desk and scolded me.



Hahahahaha... I rule.

(Yankees lead their series 1-0, Red Sox trail in their series 0-1)


Non Sequitur:
Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story
- Holy crap... The most amazing purchase I've ever made. It's a Family Guy movie that went straight to DVD. You must see this immediately. It will blow your mind.

Jets news: This just in... they suck. Vinny Testaverde gets the start this Sunday, vs. the Buccaneers. I guess it can't get much worse than last week...

(famous last words...)

playoffs - post 1

"Weekday afternoon playoff baseball is right up there with the first two days of the NCAA Tournament as one of the best work days of the year. Everyone prep your fake Excel spreadsheets and sharpen your "Alt/Tab" skills!"
-Dan Shanoff, espn.com

ah yes.. well said indeed.

crossroads

That is the beauty that is today, October 1. 2005 American League Champions.
Hell yeah.




rewind to last night: Crossroads Irish Pub, approximately 9:00pm
(the names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Tommy (to Mike): God, these guys are terrible.

(Enter very drunk guy, late 20s/early 30s, wearing a Yankee jersey and fitted cap)

Yankee Drunk: Yo, what did you say? The Yanks are the best f-ing team ever!

Tommy: No, they're really not. They're playing terribly. Except for Jeet's home run, they haven't done crap tonight. Don't worry, I'm actually a Yankees fan too, dude.

YD: Oh, no sh-t! Yo, what's up man!?!

Tommy: Um... not much. Just trying to watch the game here...

YD: Yeah man... I love the Yankees! My boy here is a die-hard Sox fan.

Tommy: Cool, cool.. are you just in town visiting him?

YD: Nah, he's actually from Reno. Our boy's getting married tomorrow, so we're just out drinking it up...

(the 5'5" Reno Drunk two seats down yells something unintelligibile, and I just give him the head nod and glass raise)

Tommy: Oh... Reno... didn't know Red Sox Nation spread that far.

YD: Yeah dude, totally... (and then realizing he has no idea what I'm talking about) wait, what?

Tommy: Nevermind. Yeah man, Yankees fans in Boston! There's like 5 or 6 in the bar tonight... I'm pretty psyched! I wore my Yankees t-shirt under my sweater to work today, showing it to all the crazy Sox fans in my office. It was great.

YD: Yeah? (YD starts to lift up Tommy's sweater) Are you still wearing it? Break that s--t out!

Tommy (smacking YD and pushing him almost off his stool): Yo!!! Get off me! I'll take it off a little later, man.

YD: Oh, you call yourself a real fan? You gotta take that sweater off.

Tommy: I'll take it off when I f-ing feel like it. I've lived in Boston for 5 years; I'm over the whole "shock value" thing of wearing the "NY" around Sox fans.

YD: Oh yeah? Well I've lived here for 10 years, and I still wear this stuff all the time. Yankees, baby!

Tommy: Ok, you're cooler than me, I guess. You've been here longer and you're wearing a jersey. Congrats, dude.

RD (Reno Drunk): You're not wearing your shirt dude?! You're a f-ing p--sy.

Tommy: Wait, what did you say? Because I think it's a little easier to hear outside... I thought I heard you call me a p--sy, but I'm sure that a cool kid like you wouldn't say something like that.

YD (motioning to RD as if to say "shut the hell up", and then to Tommy): Hey hey hey, there's no need for that... why are you getting so upset?

Tommy: Well, actually, I'm having a good time. I'm here with my buddies, Sam Adams in one hand, watching the Yanks... but, for me at least, having poser super-fans trying to take off my clothes while their midget friends call me a p--ssy kind of qualifies for a reason to get a little agitated... don't you think?

YD (nervously laughing): Wait, what?

Tommy (deadpan): You heard me.

YD: Hahahaha... you're all right, man. Let me get you a drink... we've been doing car bombs all night... you want one?

Tommy: Nah, man... I'm sticking to beer tonight. Thanks though.

RD: No carbomb? You're such a p-ssy... hahaha, just kidding man.

Mike (aside, to Tommy): What? Did you just threaten that guy, and then he offered to buy you a drink?

Tommy: Yeah. He's a winner.

haiku hell

this is what happens when a wonderful eastern poetry style falls into the hands of a western jackass who's bored at work (guest haikus are both bold and italicized):

today is wednesday
thinking about going out?
or just chillin in?

i hate you so much
but i love the peach; you should
call up some peoples

you act like you dont
know anyone in this town
but you do! call them!

method man is sick
judgement day makes me want re-
tards to die with plagues

i just had chef changs
i feel it working my gut
bathroom time is soon

on saturday night
roy jones fights antonio
know anyone watching?

it should be sick, son
i would say we could buy it
but i'm cheap as hell

my haikus can't stop
like Diddy, they cant stop and
they wont stop, eh eh

haikus are awesome
don't knock them till you've tried them
yoga... so overrated.

long delay between
your sending this response and
my receiving it now.

soo many haikus
have been sent by me today
its ridiculous.

so sketchy this sounds;
crazy cross country drivin'.
foxwoods, here we come!

here's a little touch
of the crap i've been sending
all day to my friends

they'll ask me questions
and i'll respond just like this
its driving them nuts

i would say something
about the bulldogs or athens
but i'm not that smart

my future unfolds
sugar cruches between teeth
a fortune cookie.

i look down the hall
see the target of my wrath
the end will come soon.

sending out emails
of the lame ass jacket song is
not a smart move.

i have no response.
you're the first one to hit me
back with hot haikus.

don't worry, tech pride
is something i'm lacking now
go bulldogs, arf arf!

i'll let you get back
to whatever fun work you
have to get back to.

haikkus are insane
they make me cringe and go nuts
stop sending them...now!

you can't possibly
expect me to stop when you
haiku back to me

i think tomorrow
i'm going to post todays
haikus. there are lots.

i haven't sent a
non-haiku email at all
since this morning, fool

(non-haiku set up: "speaking about poker...remember when I rivered a s8 against your measly top pair... AHHAHAHAHA(I am a calling station)")

the bad beats happen
to good players more often
so i don't worry

keep chasing your straights
when calling pot sized bets, son.
i'll bust you, hardcore.

gza's a damn beast
he and meth are def my faves
from the wu tang clan

meth is funnier
but gza brings that raw ish
sends chills down your spine

popped my collar
now I want to punch myself
I have much damage

someone released gas
for this time it was not me
will I be blamed?

my stomach: dying.
i'm laughing way too hard now
that was hilarious

i need to poop bad
and yet, the stall's been taken
every time. tragic.

i should really stop.
these damn haikus keep coming.
they've taken over.

its really a shame
that there's such a long delay
i'm sure you're anxious

my replies are late
when you're trying to tell stuff
to the haiku man

yeah, i think i'm done
this has been fun, but its old.
haikus: adios.

andre 3000 understands me...

God, Come in? God? God, come in, God?
Damn, you're a girl!

Well, I guess the reason I'm talking to you tonight is cuz I've been doing a lot of thinking. I mean, I consider myself a pretty cool guy, and I've never cheated on any of my girlfriends... well except that one lil' time in Japan, but that was just some head, and head don't count, right? Aww, thanks God, I knew you would understand.

Well, I just feel like I want to be honest with you, God. I just need a sweet bitch; you know, sombody not too fast, but not to slow, 'cause I dont have it all my damn self... and life ain't easy, you know? You want somebody by your side to help you smooth that thang out, you know what I'm saying? And I'm not being picky; she dosen't even have to have a big ol' ass. Just something well proportioned to her body... you know, a nice lil' tail.

What? You say you you've found somebody? Is she cute? So when do I get to meet her? Aww, God, you're the greatest! Well, I guess i'll talk to you later... amen. Oh, I'm sorry... alady.

-Andre Benjamin, The Love Below

yep... pretty much.

love/hate

AP - Vinny Testaverde, who spent some of his best NFL seasons with the New York Jets, is set to rejoin the team to replace Chad Pennington, lost for the season with a shoulder injury.

"Only a fool breaks his own heart..."
-Julio Iglesias

I've been a Jets fan for as long as I can remember. Our fam got the season tickets when I was 2, and I started going to the games regularly when I was about 8. In case you're not really a football fan, I'll give you a little inside info. The Jets haven't been to the Superbowl since 1969. For the 80s and most of the 90s, they were one of the worst (if not the worst) franchises in the league. As it turns out, though, attending games on those 8 sundays a year was great. The games were horrendous, but our pre-game (and occasional post-game) tailgates were amazing. It wasn't even a matter of liking the Jets; in fact, I probably would've said that I hated them, but I loved the Jets game experience. If I was ever bored during the week, or sad about something, I knew that on Sunday morning, we'd be heading out to the Meadowlands at 10:00 for an awesome tailgating party. We had seven tickets, and as bad as the Jets played, we'd almost always have seven people ready cheer them on. The tailgates were so much fun (and had such good food) that we'd sometimes get other family members or friends to come out to the games just for the pre-game party; once it was time to go into the stadium, the extra tailgaters would head home. Fun times.

1997, however, was where rooting for the Jets went from being a fun fall activity to a serious emotional commitment. After being the laughing stock of pro-sports teams in the NY/NJ area for my entire lifetime, the Jets acquired Bill Parcells, arguably the best head coach in the history of the NFL. He won two Super Bowls with the Giants, and just a few years later led the Patriots to big game. It was time to actually care about how the team played. Their first season under Parcells, they were 9-7 (a winning season? what is that?). The next season, they went 12-4 and made it to within one game of the Super Bowl. Most fans would consider those two seasons "mediocre" or "pretty good" at best, but for a Jets fan, those are the kinds of season that one could only dream about. The success of those couple seasons taught Jets fans (or at least, this Jets fan) to love. We didn't have to see the tailgate parties as the sole reason for being a ticketholder; we could look forward to going to the actual games, too. We could get emotionally invested in the team, because we knew that they weren't the terrible pushovers that we'd grown up with. They were willing to play good football, and we were willing to believe in them. I could honestly say it for the first time: I loved the Jets.

And then, like most relationships, we hit a rough patch. In 1999, our starting quarterback was hurt in the first game of the season. It hurt a little bit, but we knew that he'd be back for next season. In 2000, Parcells stepped down as our head coach, but stayed with the team in an administrative role. While not optimal, we ended the season with a winning record, and it was easy to keep the faith; we were still on solid footing. In 2001, we brought in new head coach, and while we made the playoffs, we lost in a somewhat embarassing first round game. In 2002, we just squeaked into the playoffs and didn't do particularly well, but we were introduced to a Mr. Chad Pennington, and received a glimpse of a potentially glorious future. In 2003, the heartache became a little more intense, when the boys in Green fell back to their first losing season since 1996, due to a combination of injuries and and an inconsistent offense. In 2004, we had our most succesful season since '98, and even though our team had talent, that same thread of inconsistency from the 80s came back, and they weren't able to take advantage of making the playoffs. Throughout all of these years, although the team wasn't nearly as bad has it's known to have been, there were little signs here and there that all wasn't well in Jetsdom. They would play well enough to get our hopes up, and then lose in such a terrible way that we would hate ourselves for caring so much about 22 guys who run around for 3 hours a week. The fact that they were almost good, and yet not even close to being great, was painful. I wanted to love them. I'd been waiting all of my life to find a love like this. And yet, I couldn't help but hate them for the pain they'd caused.

And now, the sky is falling. Chad's not injured, but he missed training camp so he's a little rusty. Well, Chad's arm is a little sore, but it's nothing serious. Oh, Chad's arm is sore, we're going to take him out of the game, but we'll put him back in at the end of the game. Um, yeah... Chad is going to have season-ending surgery, and the two quarterbacks at our disposal now are a kid who hasn't taken more than 20 snaps in a live game, and a 42-yr-old dude getting ready to apply for Social Security. Terrible. I hate them. There is no reason to have any confidence in this team. All the experts say they're terrible. They're in the same division in as the reigning champion New England Patriots. And the emotional leader of the offense is out for the season. There is no logical reason to divert any physical or emotional effort towards this sorry collection of bums.

...and if you're looking for me this Sunday, I'll be the one at the Sports Depot, dressed up in all green, rooting for those no-talent ass-clowns to take it to the Ravens.

...I guess that's love.

m.a.y.

(SCENE: Two young professionals, after a long day's work, are relaxing in their living room. After the hustle and bustle of a long day, they are sitting at their respective lap-tops, playing online poker and checking e-mail, watching "SportsCenter" on TV, and enjoying a nice end-of-the-day beverage...)

Sam: How're you doing, man?

Tommy: Pretty good, I'm up about 70 bucks.

Sam: That's pretty weak, dude. Usually, you'd be up at least 200 by now.

Tommy (laughing): Hahahaha, you're probably right... I guess it's a slow star- Holy Crap!! (jumping off of the couch) THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!!!!

Sam (initially startled by the sudden scream, but puts the pieces together) : You just take down a nice pot?

Tommy: Hell yeah I did! I thought I lost it, or at best tied... But I just took down a 731 dollar pot!!! This calls for some music!!

(Tommy opens iTunes on his laptop and searches his library of thousands to find the perfect song...)

Tommy: Awww yeah!! Here it is!!!

(Anita Baker, female r&b / soul singer, singing "Final Frontier")

Sam (almost disgustedly): What is this cra- (and then, in a moment of realization) Is this... Is this the theme song to ... Mad About You?!?!?

Tommy (showing faux embarassment): Umm... no!!

(The two of them pause in the moment, slightly embarassed that they know the show well enough to recognize its theme, and slightly disturbed that their roommate also watched the show)

Sam and Tommy (simultaneously): AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA
HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Tommy: You're such a loser!! You watched Mad About You!!!!!!

Samuel: You're worse!! You watched it and you have its theme song on your computer!!!!

Tommy (after a pause): It was a good show though!! I mean, it wasn't "cool", but it was genuinely funny! Not like all those other crap shows that people liked in the 90s... And back then, Helen Hunt was actually enjoyable to watch!

Samuel: Yeah, Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt really made a good comic duo... (and then, realizing what he's just said) No one shall ever know of this conversation.

Tommy: Absolutely not.

this is stupid

this is stupid... and yet it makes me laugh everytime i see it.






I also realize that I appreciate Office Space more and more everyday.

back in the day

It took me a while, but I think I can finally write about love. My first true love. I remember the day vividly... wait a minute, no I don't. It was a little while ago. But I remember enough to tell the story. It was early in the school year, and I saw her sitting there with some of her newly made friends (she was definitely young and new to the school, so these couldn't have been people she'd know for any length of time), and I knew that she was more than anything I'd ever seen in a girl- nay, a woman. She had a sense of maturity that I'd never seen in anyone my age before, but at the same time, a youthul cheeriness and innocence that was so free that made you think that she didn't have a care in the world. I looked at my watch and realized I had to go, but I hoped and prayed that I'd run into her again.

Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony. I saw her less than 5 hours later, in my third class of the day. I walked into the class, and it was almost as if she was waiting there for me; she looked at me as I walked in... she did that stupid hair flick thing that girls do that drives guys wild... and then she flashed me the warmest smile I'd ever seen. I've always been a relatively shy person, but that smile gave me the courage I needed to walk over to approach her. I was a nervous wreck on the inside, but I beamed nothing but pure confidence on the outside. As I approached her, I had no idea what I was going to say, but being the warm soul that she was, she took that responsibility on herself.

"Hi... what's your name?"
"Umm... J-J-Jay..."
"Well, hello Jay. I'm Ms. Krause, and your seat is right here, in the second row..."

And thus, my 8th grade english teacher crush set the standard for every woman I've met since.

missing the same imaginary place

Large: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you can put your stuff, that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Large: You'll see when you move out; it just sort of happens one day, and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean, it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start; it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.
-Garden State

This dialogue probably hit me harder than any other scene in the movie. For some time now, I've had exactly that feeling inside; the desire to have that sense of family, with the parents coming home from work and me and my siblings coming home from school, and yapping about this patient or that baseball game or this dance recital... At the time, you don't realize it; these are just the little, trivial, non-descript events that made up the day. But then you look back on those moments, and you realize that that was what felt good about being a kid.

I guess I don't have much more to say... I just thought of that scene and wanted to share it. I can't write more without getting sappy (this movie hits close to home on way too many levels), but if you haven't seen Garden State, you should definitely check it out. (Zach Braff's from my hometown, and it was cool seeing all the South Orange landmarks from my childhood)

bored at work -> blast from the past

Well she sneaks around the world from Kiev to Carolina,
She's a sticky-fingered filcher from Berlin down to Belize,
She'll take you for a ride on a slow boat to China, Tell me:
Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

Steal their Seoul in South Korea, make Antarctica cry Uncle,
From the Red Sea to Greenland they'll be singing the blues,
Well they never Arkansas her steal the Mekong from the jungle, Tell me:
Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

She'll go from Nashville to Norway,
Bonaire to Zimbabwe,
Chicago to Czechoslovakia
and back!

Well she'll ransack Pakistan and run a scam in Scandinavia,
Then she'll stick 'em up Down Under and go pick-pocket Perth,
She put the Miss in misdemeanor when she stole the beans from Lima, Tell me:
Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

Oh tell me where in the world is...
Oh tell me where can she be?

Ooh, Botswana to Thailand,
Milan via Amsterdam,
Mali to Bali, Ohio, Oahu...!

Well she glides around the globe and she'll flimflam every nation,
She's a double-dealing diva with a taste for thievery,
Her itinerary's loaded up with moving violations, Tell me:
Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?

a glimmer of hope

maybe there are some good people in the world...

Clara Anisha Brown, 4, grasped onto a volunteer, Chad Meaux, as they navigated the flooded streets of New Orleans after she and her family were rescued from St. Bernard, La. (courtesy of nytimes.com)

Question of the Day

I had a really disturbing experience yesterday on the bus to work. I was reading the Metro, a free paper available at all subway and bus stops, and I came to the daily "Question of the Day", which is a question posed to everyday people on the street on current events. Questions can range anywhere from "Do you approve of the war in Iraq" to "Should the Red Sox get rid of Keith Foulke". Normally, the responses are pretty predictable: the usually liberal-minded students will say that they don't approve of the war, or some Boston chowderhead will say that the Sox should get rid of "that friggin guy; he's gahbage, my 17-yeah old son could pitch bettah than that bum." Not really deep or unpredictable responses in most cases. However, yesterday's question was "Do you think the media has devoted too much coverage to the hurricane on the gulf coast?" In case you haven't heard, Hurricane Katrina has killed over 100 people, destroyed the homes of thousands of people, and has left 80% of New Orleans under at least 5 feet of water. The Lousiana Superdome was declared a public refuge for the nearly 30,000 people forced to evacuate their homes, and Katrina started to destroy the roof of that building, causing many people to feel unsafe even in this temporary home.

Why did I even bring up this "Question of the Day"? Here are three of the responses:
"That's all I've seen on the news since yesterday. It makes it sound pretty intense."
"Yes, but you shouldn't believe everything the media says."
"Yes, definitely. They're making it to be the biggest deal... but this happens every summer."

These answers are just one of the reasons why I hate so many people. "Intense"? The Yankees playing the Red Sox in September is "intense". This is a life-changing, catastrophic event for tens of thousands of people! "You shouldn't believe everything the media says"? Well, that's definitely a true statement, but in this context? This isn't Bill O'Reilly saying that anti-war protesters are weakening our country, or Bill Maher saying that the legalization of marijuana will improve the economy. In this instance, the media is relaying to us the horrors that some of our fellow Americans are going through: death, injury, homes being destroyed, loved ones missing and unheard from... These are things that we need to hear, and things that we need to address. I mean, the media must be somewhat believeable if Mr. Bush is going to take two days off from his 5-week summer vacation to help develop and coordinate some relief efforts. I mean, nobody makes Dubya leave the ranch unless he absolutely has to. And as far as "this happening every summer", well, if thousands of homes were destroyed and towns were flooded every summer, then I would think that New Orleans would be able to plan a little better for this sort of thing. But it turns out that this is one of the worst natural disasters that our country has ever seen... not exactly an annual event.

I guess I said all of that to say that sometimes it scares me that so many people (and I'm extrapolating a bit from this small sample of people surveyed) can be either so ignorant of the world around them, or totally uncaring towards problems in the world that don't directly affect them.

I don't really consider myself a social activist by any means, but... if you can do anything to help the New Orleans-ites, I think its worth it. I'm probably the brokest (is that even a word? most broke?) person around, but I'm going to send the red cross a donation... at least think about it. And even if you don't send them money, at least keep them in your thoughts and prayers, and don't consider the media coverage of their plight "unnecessary" and "not a big deal".

gotta start somewhere...

I wonder if it's possible to create an interesting, entertaining, semi-autobiographical, periodical publication on the internet that is some how unique and unlike every other stupid blog that exists. Personally, I don't think its possible (for me, anyway) for three distinct reasons:

1) all blogs are inherently self-serving and done either by egomaniacs who need to hear themselves talk (one type of person i despise) or by people who think they have an important message that they and only they can relate to the world (which is moronic)

2) I'm not a writer, or even vaguely artistic, by any stretch of the imagination

3) I'm not really an interesting person

That being said, I feel like this should be an interesting experiment. The main reason I've decided to create a blog is that my life has taken quite a few unexpected twists and turns in the last couple weeks/months/years, and I figure, if I'm going to vent to anyone, it might as well be...well, everyone in the world, I guess. Part of me is probably seeking pity. Part of me enjoys being an angry person and yelling at people. And part of me realizes that I'm hilarious (or insane... it's a fine line) and that I need to make sure I write some of my hilarity/insanity down so I don't forget it. At any given time, these posts might cover a variety of topics, including (but not limited to): my health, trying to get into med school, the boring life of an office drone, poker, despising the Red Sox and Patriots while living in Boston, missing/hating my ex-girlfriend, my attempts at either getting over the aforementioned female or getting her back, and random drunken rants encapsulating any or all of the above.

So... yeah. Here goes nothing...