Disclaimer:
I don't like cheezy tributes.
I'm not a writer.
I don't think that drug or alcohol references automatically make anything/anyone cool.
Today is the one-year anniversary of the passing of Hunter S. Thompson, commonly referred to as the father of "gonzo journalism". I'm not going to claim that I've known about him forever, and I'm not going to say that I was reading his books and articles "before it was cool". But Hunter is probably the one person who ever made me want to write. Granted, I've always enjoyed reading throughout my life, and I wouldn't classify Hunter's works as the greatest literary works I've read. But what makes his work stand out from the most things I've read is that it really feels like I'm reading Hunter S. Thompson on the page. I don't mean seeing his thoughts, translated into words; I feel like I can see Hunter himself. When he presents his opinions, I don't have to think about phrases and sentences and figure out what he's trying to say; I feel like they're already in my head.
There are many of Hunter's ideas and opinions that I agree with, and there are many that I just don't get. But I do know that I loved reading about his political aspirations, drug-induced memoirs, gambling wins and losses, and his devout love of sports. And even though I'm sure there are many people out there who'll probably try to mimic his style (myself included, at times), there will never be another Hunter.
"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."
-HST
Here's to being crazy.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
misplaced apology
Taking a break from all that garbage that I've been writing about this week, I'm going to give Harry Whittington, the object of D-Chen's target practice last weekend, a little shoutout. I read this in the New York Times this morning:
Secondly... this dude was shot in the face and chest, and he apologized to the guy that shot him?! If I were in that position, I think I'd be more in the mindset of Jules, from Pulp Fiction: "That ain't right, man. Motherfucker do that to me, he better paralyze my ass, 'cause I'd kill a motherfucker."
I guess Chen-dog is a big fan of Rainier Wolfcastle; he just wanted to go to that Texas ranch, "tear it down, and turn it into a nature reserve where I will hunt the most dangerous game of all...man."
First of all, it wasn't even like this was skilled hunting; these old men were wandering around in a field where slow, dimwitted, flightless birds walk around and bump into each other. If you're going to hunt, go track deer or ducks or something.CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas (AP) -- The lawyer shot by Vice President Dick Cheney during a hunting trip was being discharged from a hospital on Friday and told reporters he was sorry for all the trouble Cheney had faced over the past week.
"We all assume certain risks in what we do, in what activities we pursue," Whittington, 78, said as he stood outside the hospital, his face clearly bruised.
"Accidents do and will happen," he said.
Whittington thanked the hospital staff. He also said he was sorry for all the difficulty the vice president and his family had faced. He said the past weekend encompassed "a cloud of misfortune and sadness."
Secondly... this dude was shot in the face and chest, and he apologized to the guy that shot him?! If I were in that position, I think I'd be more in the mindset of Jules, from Pulp Fiction: "That ain't right, man. Motherfucker do that to me, he better paralyze my ass, 'cause I'd kill a motherfucker."
I guess Chen-dog is a big fan of Rainier Wolfcastle; he just wanted to go to that Texas ranch, "tear it down, and turn it into a nature reserve where I will hunt the most dangerous game of all...man."
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
love, actually (pt. 2)
Continuing from yesterday's post, I'll continue to dissect this crazy little thing called love with a distinctly different movie than the 1942 classic Casablanca: Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy. It's your typical boy-meets-girl, boy-falls-in-love, boy-finds-out-that-girl-is-gay, boy-professes-love-anyway, girl-falls-in-love-with-boy-anyway, boy-finds-out-he-isn't-girl's-first-heterosexual-experience, boy-can't-deal-with-his-exlesbian-girlfriend-having-slept-with-other-men, boy-says-multiple-hurtful-things, boy-forgets-that-he-loves-girl-for-her-personality-and-not-her-sexual-history, boy-ruins-relationship-with-soulmate story.
In every relationship (well, every relationship that ends), there are five distinct parts: the courtship phase, the newlywed phase, the long haul, the beginning of the end, and the breakup. What I like about CA is the fact that Smith really doesn't glorify most of these scenes. Granted, the whole idea of a lesbian falling in love with a man might be a little outlandish (for any guy but me, anyway). I'll admit that. But Smith's description of the emotional transitions that each character goes through really takes you through the trials that guys and gals experience during a relationship.
When Holden (Ben Affleck) and Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams) first meet, Holden breaks out cheesy line after cheesy line, and most of them flop horribly. For any guy who's ever tried to win over a girl without booze or rohypnol, this is a situation that is disturbing familiar. Even when you think that she might be sort of into you, trying to carry on a conversation with a girl you're trying to win over is nearly impossible because a) guys are idiots, b) girls are insane, c) you're second guessing everything you're saying to make sure that you're not coming across as an idiot, and d) the girl (she's crazy, remember) is probably trying to act like she's not as interested as she is.
Once their relationship starts, their romance (like most) becomes all-consuming; they're making out all the time, they're forgoing time with everyone else to be with each other... they pretty much forget that the outside world exists. Now, I'm not one to rip into wanting to spend a lot of time with a significant other, and I'm definitely not about to say that having sex all the time is a bad thing. And while I'm sure Kevin Smith isn't a "love-hater", he doesn't hesitate to display the strain that their engrossing relationship has on their outside friendships. Alyssa's close knit circle of friends and co-workers begin to show visible annoyance when she starts hanging out with them less and less (as well as the fact that she's no longer playing for Team Lesbian). Holden's roommate, comic book co-creator and best friend Banky (Jason Lee) even goes so far as to say that their friendship is seriously at risk because of the nonstop attention that he's giving his new girlfriend.
Banky: Everybody has an agenda. Everyone.
Holden: Yourself?
Banky: My agenda is to watch your back.
Holden: To what end?
Banky: To insure that all this time we've spent together, building something, wasn't wasted.
Holden: She's not going to ruin the comic.
Banky: I wasn't talking about the comic.
Because Kevin Smith is like me and doesn't appreciate 3-hour long movies, we don't catch a lot of the "long haul"-phase of their relationship, but we can pretty much assume that's it the same as the newlywed phase, but toned down a bit. Which leads us to... the beginning of the end. Depending on the people involved, this can happen in a variety of ways; one of the relationshipeers (I make up words... so what?) might start to feel inadequate, underappreciated, smothered, or one probably a million other reasons. In CA, the relationship begins to unravel when our hero comes upon a rumor that his "untouched by another man" girl has indeed experimented with heterosexuality in her younger years.
Some people might have found my Casablanca questioning of love and romance overly skewed towards making women the antagonists in relationships. Well, I stand by that opinion, because those are the feelings that dynamics of Rick and Ilsa elicited in me. And now, with Chasing Amy, I'm ready to admit that the demise of the primary relationship in this movie was caused primarily by the guy. When Holden finds out that he isn't the first man to have sex with Alyssa, he starts freaking out, yelling at her, calling her a "whore"; he's out for blood with this breakup. His irrational ranting and raving at her has nothing to do with their current relationship; it's merely a weird and bizarre insecurity inside himself that's made him erupt with an inordinate amount of intense passion. A level of passion which, at the beginning of their relationship, he had used to love her with.
The reason that this breakup scene hurts so much is that, over the course of the movie, Smith shows how well Alyssa and Holden are together. He doesn't just make up some cheesy "love at first sight" garbage, and then force the audience to trust him that they're kindred spirits. He shows them discussing their similar interests. He shows their playful banter with each other. He shows their ability to make fun of each other in a lighthearted way. And then, once they hook up, you see not just that they're intensely attracted to each other physically, but that they genuinely feel more complete when they're together and are in one another's arms.
So... what's the moral of this story? That quality relationships are so hard to come by that the only place a guy can find a quality girlfriend is in the lesbian community? Probably not; I think, in that sense, Smith's just trying to say that finding that you never know where you might find that perfect person... whether its at a comic book convention, Jimmy Buffet concert, at a Fourth of July party, or just walking across a bridge with a corned beef sandwich at 1am. Is the moral that guys are inherently insecure beings who need their egos padded constantly? That's definitely possible, because guys are idiots and as much as we want to be seen as tough guys, it's only to make girls want to be protected by us (if that makes any sense at all).
But I think the main thing that Kevin Smith is trying to say with this movie is that relationships are difficult; as great and happy and comfortable as your partner might make you feel, it still takes a lot of work to keep a relationship healthy and strong. There'll probably be times when one of the partners might not visibly show as much affection as he (i mean, err... he or she) did during the courtship and newlywed phases of the relationship; he (or she) has to remember that although he (or she) might still feel the same way, he (or she) has to work at showing that he (or she) feels the same way. There might be a time when one of the partners feels that she (or he) isn't getting to spend enough time with the other; she (or he) should remember that although her (or his) partner may love her (or him) more than anyone else in the world, the two of them are still individuals, and that the "individual" version of the partner is the person that she initially fell in love with.
Two love analyses, two broken relationships... this is no good.
Stay tuned for Part III, boys and girls... hopefully I can find something good to say about relationships...
-Editor's Note: This sequence of epistles on love is being indefinitely suspended due to... um... not really wanting to do it anymore. However, I will pick it up again if I get positive feedback on the first two entries or an overwhelming bunch of requests for a continuation. Mahalo.
In every relationship (well, every relationship that ends), there are five distinct parts: the courtship phase, the newlywed phase, the long haul, the beginning of the end, and the breakup. What I like about CA is the fact that Smith really doesn't glorify most of these scenes. Granted, the whole idea of a lesbian falling in love with a man might be a little outlandish (for any guy but me, anyway). I'll admit that. But Smith's description of the emotional transitions that each character goes through really takes you through the trials that guys and gals experience during a relationship.
When Holden (Ben Affleck) and Alyssa (Joey Lauren Adams) first meet, Holden breaks out cheesy line after cheesy line, and most of them flop horribly. For any guy who's ever tried to win over a girl without booze or rohypnol, this is a situation that is disturbing familiar. Even when you think that she might be sort of into you, trying to carry on a conversation with a girl you're trying to win over is nearly impossible because a) guys are idiots, b) girls are insane, c) you're second guessing everything you're saying to make sure that you're not coming across as an idiot, and d) the girl (she's crazy, remember) is probably trying to act like she's not as interested as she is.
Once their relationship starts, their romance (like most) becomes all-consuming; they're making out all the time, they're forgoing time with everyone else to be with each other... they pretty much forget that the outside world exists. Now, I'm not one to rip into wanting to spend a lot of time with a significant other, and I'm definitely not about to say that having sex all the time is a bad thing. And while I'm sure Kevin Smith isn't a "love-hater", he doesn't hesitate to display the strain that their engrossing relationship has on their outside friendships. Alyssa's close knit circle of friends and co-workers begin to show visible annoyance when she starts hanging out with them less and less (as well as the fact that she's no longer playing for Team Lesbian). Holden's roommate, comic book co-creator and best friend Banky (Jason Lee) even goes so far as to say that their friendship is seriously at risk because of the nonstop attention that he's giving his new girlfriend.
Banky: Everybody has an agenda. Everyone.
Holden: Yourself?
Banky: My agenda is to watch your back.
Holden: To what end?
Banky: To insure that all this time we've spent together, building something, wasn't wasted.
Holden: She's not going to ruin the comic.
Banky: I wasn't talking about the comic.
Because Kevin Smith is like me and doesn't appreciate 3-hour long movies, we don't catch a lot of the "long haul"-phase of their relationship, but we can pretty much assume that's it the same as the newlywed phase, but toned down a bit. Which leads us to... the beginning of the end. Depending on the people involved, this can happen in a variety of ways; one of the relationshipeers (I make up words... so what?) might start to feel inadequate, underappreciated, smothered, or one probably a million other reasons. In CA, the relationship begins to unravel when our hero comes upon a rumor that his "untouched by another man" girl has indeed experimented with heterosexuality in her younger years.
Some people might have found my Casablanca questioning of love and romance overly skewed towards making women the antagonists in relationships. Well, I stand by that opinion, because those are the feelings that dynamics of Rick and Ilsa elicited in me. And now, with Chasing Amy, I'm ready to admit that the demise of the primary relationship in this movie was caused primarily by the guy. When Holden finds out that he isn't the first man to have sex with Alyssa, he starts freaking out, yelling at her, calling her a "whore"; he's out for blood with this breakup. His irrational ranting and raving at her has nothing to do with their current relationship; it's merely a weird and bizarre insecurity inside himself that's made him erupt with an inordinate amount of intense passion. A level of passion which, at the beginning of their relationship, he had used to love her with.
The reason that this breakup scene hurts so much is that, over the course of the movie, Smith shows how well Alyssa and Holden are together. He doesn't just make up some cheesy "love at first sight" garbage, and then force the audience to trust him that they're kindred spirits. He shows them discussing their similar interests. He shows their playful banter with each other. He shows their ability to make fun of each other in a lighthearted way. And then, once they hook up, you see not just that they're intensely attracted to each other physically, but that they genuinely feel more complete when they're together and are in one another's arms.
So... what's the moral of this story? That quality relationships are so hard to come by that the only place a guy can find a quality girlfriend is in the lesbian community? Probably not; I think, in that sense, Smith's just trying to say that finding that you never know where you might find that perfect person... whether its at a comic book convention, Jimmy Buffet concert, at a Fourth of July party, or just walking across a bridge with a corned beef sandwich at 1am. Is the moral that guys are inherently insecure beings who need their egos padded constantly? That's definitely possible, because guys are idiots and as much as we want to be seen as tough guys, it's only to make girls want to be protected by us (if that makes any sense at all).
But I think the main thing that Kevin Smith is trying to say with this movie is that relationships are difficult; as great and happy and comfortable as your partner might make you feel, it still takes a lot of work to keep a relationship healthy and strong. There'll probably be times when one of the partners might not visibly show as much affection as he (i mean, err... he or she) did during the courtship and newlywed phases of the relationship; he (or she) has to remember that although he (or she) might still feel the same way, he (or she) has to work at showing that he (or she) feels the same way. There might be a time when one of the partners feels that she (or he) isn't getting to spend enough time with the other; she (or he) should remember that although her (or his) partner may love her (or him) more than anyone else in the world, the two of them are still individuals, and that the "individual" version of the partner is the person that she initially fell in love with.
Two love analyses, two broken relationships... this is no good.
-Editor's Note: This sequence of epistles on love is being indefinitely suspended due to... um... not really wanting to do it anymore. However, I will pick it up again if I get positive feedback on the first two entries or an overwhelming bunch of requests for a continuation. Mahalo.
Monday, February 13, 2006
love, actually (but for straight guys)
It's been a while, I know, so in the spirit of the season, I've decided to figure out what "romance" and "love" are all about by studying the definitive source of knowledge for anything worth knowing: cinema. In the words of the great philosophers Kenny, Stan, and Eric, "movies teach us what our parents don't have time to say." So, without further ado, the sources for the four-part discussion:
Casablanca
Chasing Amy
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Swingers
In case you're wondering, these are the four greatest love stories ever to grace the silver screen. I'm sorry, but this is not up for debate. Now, two questions need to be posed:
Casablanca
Chasing Amy
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Swingers
In case you're wondering, these are the four greatest love stories ever to grace the silver screen. I'm sorry, but this is not up for debate. Now, two questions need to be posed:
- How does the film glorify and idealize romance?
- How does the film realistically depict modern romance?
Casablanca - The most critically acclaimed of the bunch*. In case you don't know the story, Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) falls in love with the beautiful Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman) while in Paris. When the Germans invade the city, Ilsa disappears without a trace, and Rick ends up avoiding occupation by moving to Casablanca and opening a popular saloon. Years later, as fate would have it, Ilsa and her resistance leader husband Victor Laszlo end up in Casablanca, fleeing the Nazi authorities. They require "letters of transit", and as it turns out, the only person in Casablanca who can provide this escape valve is Monsieur Blaine. Hilarity ensues (in a WWII, tragic romance sort of way).
Rick, being the resistance sympathizer at heart, wants to help the world-reknowned Victor Laszlo escape the clutches of the Nazi Regime and support the resistance. But how can someone be expected to have rational feelings towards the woman who took his heart and smashed it like grape? Yes, in theory, his feelings towards doing what is right should come first and foremost. But for anyone who's ever experienced true romance, the ecstasy that is love and the corresponding devastation that is heartbreak can be so overwhelmingly consuming that anything outside of the sphere of the relationship can seem trivial. So, while I'm usually of the school of thought that genocide = not cool, I can understand why Rick isn't sticking his neck out for these particular people.
Somehow, after dealing with all of this Ilsa-induced drama, Rick comes to his senses and realizes that these Nazi bastards are no good. Even though it pains him to see his ex-girlfriend with another guy (who's not nearly as cool as he is), he decides to give Victor the letters of transit so that he can escape the social oubliette that is Casablanca and continue his resistance efforts throughout the world. Rick formulates an elaborate plan, putting himself at enormous risk, to have Victor and Ilsa avoid the Nazi authorities and fly out of Casablanca when, in typical woman fashion, Ilsa does her best to ruin everything again. She realizes that while she is in love with Victor's efforts towards making the world a better place, she sees Rick as the only man with whom she could spend her life. A mere twenty four hours in the same city as Rick rekindles the fire that warmed her all those nights in Paris years ago. Fortunately (for the free world), Rick realizes that a) Victor must escape Casablanca, and b) Victor had nothing to do with this tangled love triangle and shouldn't have to endure the same heartbreak that he did. So, even knowing how wonderful his own life with Ilsa could be, he forces the love of his life to go on with her new beau for the sake of humanity. Wow.
One of the reasons I love this movie is because Rick's emotions are so easy to empathize with; for the most part, you can realistically see someone coping with love and heartbreak the same way he does. His girlfriend leaves him for no reason; he moves to a warm weather climate, becomes a moderated alcoholic, and lives for one night stands:
Girl: Where were you last night?
Rick: That's so long ago, I don't remember.
Girl: Will I see you tonight?
Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.
When he sees ex-girlfriend for the first time since she dumped him, he stays up until the wee hours of the morning, drinking away his sorrows with whiskey and cursing the fact that he has to see her again. When she tries to reason with him, he responds (granted, he's slightly intoxicated) with no intention other than hurting her: "I heard a story once. As a matter of fact, I've heard a lot of stories in my day. They went along with the sound of a tinny piano playing in the parlor downstairs, 'Mister, I met a man once when I was a kid,' it'd always begin. Huh... I guess neither of our stories was very funny. Tell me, who was it you left me for? Was it Laszlo, or were there others in between? Or aren't you the kind that tells?"
Now, as much as I want to admit that I'm a tough guy who is completely immune to emotions, I'm not. In the end, I sort of wanted the disturbed relationship to work out and for the guy and girl to live happily ever after. And what makes this movie a little distressing is that the two former lovers don't end up together. When the film ends, Rick remains in the North African desert alone, living above a bar, and Ilsa is shoved onto a plane with a man she doesn't love. Does this conclusion mean that romance is a futile waste of effort? that the strength of love is more of an illusion than anything else? that time heals all wounds? or that we're all just better off with a hetero-life mate like Louis Renault (ala Jay and Silent Bob) than worrying about the drama and problems that come with chasing an Ilsa Lund around?
F- the Nazis... I would've taken Ilsa back.
Comments are welcome and appreciated (either on my opinions or my return to blogging in general)
Part II - coming soon...
* "Critical Acclaim" doesn't mean a da
mn thing to me, since the "Academy" didn't think The Shawshank Redemption could beat out Forrest Gump for Best Picture in '95. Not that FG isn't a great movie; it easily cracks my top ten. But come on... the only reason it won was because baby boomers were able to watch an entertaining movie while reliving the different decades of their youth. And man... Pulp Fiction came out in 1995 too! But I digress...Friday, December 16, 2005
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Thursday, November 10, 2005
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
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
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
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):
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)
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...
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...
Thursday, October 27, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
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.
Yes, that's a jack-o-lantern, and yes, those are Miller Lite bottles.
Friday, October 07, 2005
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?
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)
Thursday, October 06, 2005
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.
Find out what Family Guy character you are. (pics included) created with QuizFarm.com |
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
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...)
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...)
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
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.
-Dan Shanoff, espn.com
ah yes.. well said indeed.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
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.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
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.
"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.
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