How did I get here?
Alright, I need to get something off my chest. Something that has bothered me all morning from the point I got to the office through Court to right friggin' now.
And that is:
Why am I in a profession that I clearly do not belong in?
The question, which I have asked myself numerous times before, once again reared its angry head while I was on my way into work. As I shuffeled in, I noticed that the other attorneys entering my building were decked out in their newly pressed suits, perfectly shined shoes, crisp shirts with appropriately matching ties, their faces freshly shaven, and hair cut in just the right way.
And then there was me... non-pressed white dress shirt untucked with a crooked black tie hanging from my neck, baggy jeans that I think were last washed sometime during the month of March, black Airwalk sneakers, hair that has not been cut in months, and as documented a couple of days ago, I shaved last Thursday.
Furthermore, instead of the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, or any local daily paper in my hand, I had the latest issue of Spin Magazine from which I was reading an article announcing their new sex columnist. Actually, it was really the fact that I was reading this magazine and that article that caused me to really question what exactly I am doing at my current job.
Is it me or do I not belong here? And even further, am I really supposed to be an attorney?
I don't dress like these people, and I am pretty sure that most of them would not be reading a magazine article on sex advice although many of them probably need it. (HEY-O) The point being is that I have four months or so left at my current gig, and I am pretty sure that it is high time to start seriously evaluating my next step in life...
or else I better start dressing like one of the tribe, i guess?
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Magic Bus
So yesterday upon returning to the Dirty Will from my brief sojourn to New Brunswick, I happened to take a quick peek out my window and gazed my eyes upon this bad boy...
At first, I thought that the bus, which is that murky green monster in the picture, possibly was the creation of one of my artistic neighbors, who thought it would be fun to paint a random old school bus green and parade it around Williamsburg as some type of portable art exhibit/hipster mobile.
Now, such a creation in my neighborhood seemed to be entirely plausible to me since the inhabitants of my neck of the woods have exhibited such flare for the absurd in the past like when there was a jet black school bus parked down the road from my house for months at a time that I think someone was living in. Actually come to think of it, maybe that was the anti-version of this bus and there is some kind of crazy bus turf war going on in my hood with the green bus people having secretly eliminated the black bus people several months ago. And once again that would not surprise me either...
Anyway after a little more investigation, I realized that this bus was not in fact some whacked out statement about individualism nor part of some bus gang battle but rather a kid's party bus that apparently can be rented for an afternoon for your child's birthday party, communion celebration, or social status booster event to make him or her cooler in the eyes of his peers.
Now on the inside, the bus appeared to contain a variety of activities for little children to enjoy as well as a slide running out the back door for the kiddies to slide down. I have no idea what specifically the games inside were, but I imagine bubbles and balls were prominently involved.
Now, I am not a parent as I do not have any children or don't know that any fruits of my loin exist out there in this crazy world, but a painted school bus just seems like an odd source of entertainment for a child's party. Actually, it's just downright creepy. I mean doesn't this whole business scheme just wreak of some kind of contorted way to molest children, and why in God's name would you let your child go to a party where the other kid's parents were going to rent a "bus" where the kids can then go inside and play. None of this causes any of these parents to wonder what exactly these parents or the crazy bus people are up to?
Moreover,is Chucky Cheese too cool for these people? Here's an idea, what about just getting a clown to make balloon animals?
Further, what the hell was going on in the minds of the proprietors of the Fun Bus when they decided that this is what they wanted to start as their business. I mean if they are not pedophiles how exactly did they decide that the way to make their fame and fortune was by getting an old school bus, clean it up, paint it crazy colors, put god knows what inside, and then let people rent out the bus as a source of entertainment for the kiddies. And again, how do convince people to rent this son of a bitch for the day and then, convince them to let their kids play in it?
AM I THE ONLY ONE THAT THINKS THE WHOLE IDEA IS WRONG AND FLAWED? WHO IS LETTING THESE PEOPLE REPRODUCE SO THAT THEY CAN LET THEIR KIDS PLAY ON SOME SKETCHY FUCKEN BUS? WHY ISN'T THE GOVERNMENT AFTER THE OWNERS OF THE FUN BUS OR TRYING TO TAKE THESE KIDS FROM THEIR PARENTS?
What is being done to stop these people? And finally, when the bus left today, did they take the children with them? And weren't the renters of the bus just asking for it if they did?
GOD DAMN YOU SUPER GREEN FUN BUS, WHEREVER YOU MAY BE....
At first, I thought that the bus, which is that murky green monster in the picture, possibly was the creation of one of my artistic neighbors, who thought it would be fun to paint a random old school bus green and parade it around Williamsburg as some type of portable art exhibit/hipster mobile.
Now, such a creation in my neighborhood seemed to be entirely plausible to me since the inhabitants of my neck of the woods have exhibited such flare for the absurd in the past like when there was a jet black school bus parked down the road from my house for months at a time that I think someone was living in. Actually come to think of it, maybe that was the anti-version of this bus and there is some kind of crazy bus turf war going on in my hood with the green bus people having secretly eliminated the black bus people several months ago. And once again that would not surprise me either...
Anyway after a little more investigation, I realized that this bus was not in fact some whacked out statement about individualism nor part of some bus gang battle but rather a kid's party bus that apparently can be rented for an afternoon for your child's birthday party, communion celebration, or social status booster event to make him or her cooler in the eyes of his peers.
Now on the inside, the bus appeared to contain a variety of activities for little children to enjoy as well as a slide running out the back door for the kiddies to slide down. I have no idea what specifically the games inside were, but I imagine bubbles and balls were prominently involved.
Now, I am not a parent as I do not have any children or don't know that any fruits of my loin exist out there in this crazy world, but a painted school bus just seems like an odd source of entertainment for a child's party. Actually, it's just downright creepy. I mean doesn't this whole business scheme just wreak of some kind of contorted way to molest children, and why in God's name would you let your child go to a party where the other kid's parents were going to rent a "bus" where the kids can then go inside and play. None of this causes any of these parents to wonder what exactly these parents or the crazy bus people are up to?
Moreover,is Chucky Cheese too cool for these people? Here's an idea, what about just getting a clown to make balloon animals?
Further, what the hell was going on in the minds of the proprietors of the Fun Bus when they decided that this is what they wanted to start as their business. I mean if they are not pedophiles how exactly did they decide that the way to make their fame and fortune was by getting an old school bus, clean it up, paint it crazy colors, put god knows what inside, and then let people rent out the bus as a source of entertainment for the kiddies. And again, how do convince people to rent this son of a bitch for the day and then, convince them to let their kids play in it?
AM I THE ONLY ONE THAT THINKS THE WHOLE IDEA IS WRONG AND FLAWED? WHO IS LETTING THESE PEOPLE REPRODUCE SO THAT THEY CAN LET THEIR KIDS PLAY ON SOME SKETCHY FUCKEN BUS? WHY ISN'T THE GOVERNMENT AFTER THE OWNERS OF THE FUN BUS OR TRYING TO TAKE THESE KIDS FROM THEIR PARENTS?
What is being done to stop these people? And finally, when the bus left today, did they take the children with them? And weren't the renters of the bus just asking for it if they did?
GOD DAMN YOU SUPER GREEN FUN BUS, WHEREVER YOU MAY BE....
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Run Runner
I figured it was just about time for another self-indulgent update in Rain Delay's quest to qualify for the Boston Marathon. The last couple of weeks have been to say it nicely, rough. I found myself running alot of miles but with very inconsistent results. Last weekend while I was back home in the Nutmeg State, I went out for my longest run to date of 18 miles and absolutely bombed. I mean from the gun, I felt that it was a complete struggle and that is never good when you have 18 miles ahead of you. Furthering make this run less than enjoyable was the reemergence of the sun and 70+ degree weather which I am not at all used to running in. Needless to say, I wilted by the end of the run finishing with a very slow time and questions about whether or not any of my training actually was paying off.
I spent the next week here in Brooklyn beating myself up over this run as I still could not just accept the fact that some days you have it and some days you simply do not. Of course, the running gods wanted to get one more stomach punch in to make me further question my decision to run another marathon by telling my shin splints that I have battled for the last four years or so to start acting up again. And so, I slogged through a couple of pedestrian runs early in the week getting angrier and angrier at myself while of course resisting the true remedy of resting.
But then I got smart and although I did not shut it down for the week, I decided to forgo my speed workout and instead simply settle for a couple of nice three mile runs just to keep things moving in preparation for a long run on Saturday. Further, I put myself on a healthy regiment of lots of water, which I always consume, icing, and Advil in order to keep the shin splints at bay.
By Friday morning although achy, I was feeling a little better and at some point, I decided that it was time to give another long run a shot just to prove to myself that I was not losing my edge. Plus, I also go the great news that Lance Armstrong will be running this year's New York City Marathon so I have my next marathon goal after I qualify for Boston, BEAT LANCE. Finally, I decided that I did not want to wait until Saturday morning where I could potentially feel like crap and instead I would knock this sucker off on Friday evening after work.
So on last night with cooler temperatures from a week ago, I took off from the 398 running over the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan. From there, I ran my usual route of down the East River Park to the Staten Island Ferry depot through Batter Park and then up the West Side Highway to Pier something. Then, I turned around and ran home. I am happy to report that I got what I wanted out of the run, a very consistent and quick pace that left me with the feeling that I had more to give for the actual marathon.
And thus that is where I am at, a little dinged up from all the mileage but with the ability to keep the injuries minor in order to give myself the best possible chance of obtaining my goal. In the next five weeks, I just stay healthy, get rest, and make sure I listen to whatever aches and pains, my body is currently exhibiting. (And yes, I wrote that simply as a reminder to myself that I need to pay attention to those things.) Next weekend, I do my one twenty miler for the training period and after that while I have the option of doing another run of that magnitude, it is pretty much all down hill from there.
We will see how it all works out in the end, but remember, you always run faster on race day...
I spent the next week here in Brooklyn beating myself up over this run as I still could not just accept the fact that some days you have it and some days you simply do not. Of course, the running gods wanted to get one more stomach punch in to make me further question my decision to run another marathon by telling my shin splints that I have battled for the last four years or so to start acting up again. And so, I slogged through a couple of pedestrian runs early in the week getting angrier and angrier at myself while of course resisting the true remedy of resting.
But then I got smart and although I did not shut it down for the week, I decided to forgo my speed workout and instead simply settle for a couple of nice three mile runs just to keep things moving in preparation for a long run on Saturday. Further, I put myself on a healthy regiment of lots of water, which I always consume, icing, and Advil in order to keep the shin splints at bay.
By Friday morning although achy, I was feeling a little better and at some point, I decided that it was time to give another long run a shot just to prove to myself that I was not losing my edge. Plus, I also go the great news that Lance Armstrong will be running this year's New York City Marathon so I have my next marathon goal after I qualify for Boston, BEAT LANCE. Finally, I decided that I did not want to wait until Saturday morning where I could potentially feel like crap and instead I would knock this sucker off on Friday evening after work.
So on last night with cooler temperatures from a week ago, I took off from the 398 running over the Williamsburg Bridge into Manhattan. From there, I ran my usual route of down the East River Park to the Staten Island Ferry depot through Batter Park and then up the West Side Highway to Pier something. Then, I turned around and ran home. I am happy to report that I got what I wanted out of the run, a very consistent and quick pace that left me with the feeling that I had more to give for the actual marathon.
And thus that is where I am at, a little dinged up from all the mileage but with the ability to keep the injuries minor in order to give myself the best possible chance of obtaining my goal. In the next five weeks, I just stay healthy, get rest, and make sure I listen to whatever aches and pains, my body is currently exhibiting. (And yes, I wrote that simply as a reminder to myself that I need to pay attention to those things.) Next weekend, I do my one twenty miler for the training period and after that while I have the option of doing another run of that magnitude, it is pretty much all down hill from there.
We will see how it all works out in the end, but remember, you always run faster on race day...
But Still We Stand Strong (Final Countdown)
LEG THREE: HOMEWARD BOUND
April 9, 2006: Mileage: 298977: We are in Virginia somewhere near the Eastern Shore heading back to the Cit via Delaware. We spent the morning touring VA beach walking up the strip and down the beach, The entire way we battled a mighty wind that made us feel like we were reenacting the big screen classic, Ishtar.
On the way, we saw people riding horses,
a giant statue of Neptune,
destroyed balcony furniture,
closed piers,
multiple haunted houses,
and got to eat the worst breakfast south of the Mason Dixon line. (In retrospect, this was actually the worst food that I have eaten in my entire existence on the planet Earth. The bacon tasted like jerky and probably was. The eggs were runny and the sausages just plain blew. I am pretty sure that I am still suffering from the indigestion that this meal gave me and that my stomach may never be normal again. I wish we had fire bombed this place on the way out of town so that others never had to experience this little slice of hell again. I guess we should have realized that any place that advertises "All You Can Eat" for 7.49 might be a little too good to be true.)
3:55 PM: Unknown Location and mileage:
Bob Jingle: "Hey wait it's Palm Sunday."
Me: "Good I just had my first Palm Sunday beer."
BJ: "We're hauling through beers like its Palm Sunday."
(Note: This quote and conversation make no sense without the context that once while playing a rousing game of Asshole while on our trip out to Chicago last year. I announced at some point that we were hauling through beers like it was Christmas morning as if this is what my family did on Christmas. For the record, we inject heroine on Christmas, beers on Thanksgiving, and do meth on Easter. Palm Sunday is actually just a veritable choose your own adventure book for substance abuse.)
4:57 PM: Maryland: Mileage: 299071
We are on Route 13, which is very long, very straight, and very boring. As such, I decided to jot down what comes up on random for the next hour. Here is what transpires:
Track A: Public Enemy, "Radio Consultant"
Track B: Jimmy Eat World, "Bleed American"
Track C: Dashboard Confessional, "The Good Fight"
Track D: Warron Zevon, "Rub Me Raw"
Track E: U2, "One" (studio version)
Track F: Blink 182, "Dump Weed"
Track G: Led Zepplin, "Lemon Song"
5:28 PM: We realized that we are on the wrong road and have currently gone 15 miles in the wrong direction. This is the first and only time that we get lost on the entire trip.
Track H: U2, "Bad"
Track I: Dashboard Confessional, "Sharp Hint of New Tears"
Diz and Bob Jingle watch some dude pull out.
Track J: REM, "Flowers of Guatemala"
On review, we determine that there were two dairy queens, atleast three Subways, two 7-11's, and one Starbucks in the land that they call Virginia Beach. (Insert Subway wallpaper picture)
Track K: REM, "Laughing"
Track L: Nirvana, "Turnaround"
Track M: REM, "I'm most beautiful"
5:50 PM: Mileage: 299128: We have entered Delaware. (Note: on my own voyage back to New York, I am currently stuck in traffic on 68th and Columbus. I can honestly say that I did not miss this City at all since I have left it several days ago. It was nice to be away and to be in Boston. Oh well, I guess I live here and will have to deal. The young buck makes it round three, an intervention may be necessary.)
6:27 PM: After some Dunken Donuts, it is revealed that Bob Jingle knew the Sharkey's waitress's name but has now forgotten it. God bless narcotics. (Note: Our bus driver just slammed on the brakes and I heard Young Buck crash into the wall directly behind my seat. Justice has been served.)
6:58 PM: Mileage 299194: After listening to the Beastie Boys, Bob Jingle reminds each of us that the music at Sharkey's was spot on as the playlist included such classics as Arrested Development's Mr. Wendel and that god damn Chumba Wumba song. BUT FOR their fatal move of having a live band that performed god awful Blues/Jazz Fusion crapola, we would have stayed the entire evening. (Note: my bus driver must have a date with some hot piece of ass as we are currently throttling through the streets of NYC. As I try to type while being hurled from left to right, I notice that a dad has just taken his daughter into the crapper, I am sure that all of the urine will end up in its correct place... i.e. ALL OVER THEM)
7:37 PM: Mileage: 299230: In New Jersey on the turnpike: Although it is clear now that we are not going to reach the 300k mark, the return to the Garden State gives each of us a sense of accomplishment as we are now only a state away from home. Smiles, warm laughter and tales of the road are exchanged with glee.
8:58 PM: Mileage 299,268: Back in red pen mode, but Diz does not know so the authorities have not been notified. We are currently somewhere in the dirty jerz. It is dark and I am writing by the light provided by Jingle's portable dome light, the clicky kind. The fuzz is out in force so we must drive silently through these enemy lands. We hope to be home by 10 or 10:30. We will see if this goal becomes a reality. Important travel tip number 3000 of this trip: The Nathan's Hotdog place on the NJ turnpike in South Jersey fucken blizows. (Note: I am finishing this on a train back into the Jerz on Saturday, April, 22, 2006 around 2:36 PM, more on that later)
9:56 PM: Mileage: 299311: We hit a little traffic south of our current location, but it appears to that we have currently found a smooth patch of air. (I always wonder why airplane pilots announce this when you are flying, do we as passengers really want to think about how as flyers of the sky, we are at the whim of mother nature, who could simply send us crashing towards the earth at any second.)
Diz claims that his mother just called him, but I think it is his lady friend.
10:32 PM: Final Mileage: 299345: We are finally home. All and all a successful trip and glad to finally be home.
(I finished writing this while on yet another little life adventure back to my old stomping ground in New Brunswick, NJ where for four years of my life, I was a Scarlet Knight, and no that is not a gay pop boy band. Although if it was, who are you to judge me. We fucken rocked.)
In retrospect, the entire trip to VA Beach was a ton of fun and while I did not write down everything that went on while on our trip, I think all and all you get the gist. In the end, we fell short of our ultimate goal to roll the Faithful Steed over 300000 miles but we helped move the old beast just a little bit closer to reaching the ultimate goal. Moreover, the lessons learned and the friendships made will stay with each of the members of the road-trip crew forever, and yes, I just wrote that to see if you were paying attention and do not for one minute think that we learned anything or made any new friends. Except for Jingle, who I believe now has two new boyfriends in the VA Beach area.
April 9, 2006: Mileage: 298977: We are in Virginia somewhere near the Eastern Shore heading back to the Cit via Delaware. We spent the morning touring VA beach walking up the strip and down the beach, The entire way we battled a mighty wind that made us feel like we were reenacting the big screen classic, Ishtar.
On the way, we saw people riding horses,
a giant statue of Neptune,
destroyed balcony furniture,
closed piers,
multiple haunted houses,
and got to eat the worst breakfast south of the Mason Dixon line. (In retrospect, this was actually the worst food that I have eaten in my entire existence on the planet Earth. The bacon tasted like jerky and probably was. The eggs were runny and the sausages just plain blew. I am pretty sure that I am still suffering from the indigestion that this meal gave me and that my stomach may never be normal again. I wish we had fire bombed this place on the way out of town so that others never had to experience this little slice of hell again. I guess we should have realized that any place that advertises "All You Can Eat" for 7.49 might be a little too good to be true.)
3:55 PM: Unknown Location and mileage:
Bob Jingle: "Hey wait it's Palm Sunday."
Me: "Good I just had my first Palm Sunday beer."
BJ: "We're hauling through beers like its Palm Sunday."
(Note: This quote and conversation make no sense without the context that once while playing a rousing game of Asshole while on our trip out to Chicago last year. I announced at some point that we were hauling through beers like it was Christmas morning as if this is what my family did on Christmas. For the record, we inject heroine on Christmas, beers on Thanksgiving, and do meth on Easter. Palm Sunday is actually just a veritable choose your own adventure book for substance abuse.)
4:57 PM: Maryland: Mileage: 299071
We are on Route 13, which is very long, very straight, and very boring. As such, I decided to jot down what comes up on random for the next hour. Here is what transpires:
Track A: Public Enemy, "Radio Consultant"
Track B: Jimmy Eat World, "Bleed American"
Track C: Dashboard Confessional, "The Good Fight"
Track D: Warron Zevon, "Rub Me Raw"
Track E: U2, "One" (studio version)
Track F: Blink 182, "Dump Weed"
Track G: Led Zepplin, "Lemon Song"
5:28 PM: We realized that we are on the wrong road and have currently gone 15 miles in the wrong direction. This is the first and only time that we get lost on the entire trip.
Track H: U2, "Bad"
Track I: Dashboard Confessional, "Sharp Hint of New Tears"
Diz and Bob Jingle watch some dude pull out.
Track J: REM, "Flowers of Guatemala"
On review, we determine that there were two dairy queens, atleast three Subways, two 7-11's, and one Starbucks in the land that they call Virginia Beach. (Insert Subway wallpaper picture)
Track K: REM, "Laughing"
Track L: Nirvana, "Turnaround"
Track M: REM, "I'm most beautiful"
5:50 PM: Mileage: 299128: We have entered Delaware. (Note: on my own voyage back to New York, I am currently stuck in traffic on 68th and Columbus. I can honestly say that I did not miss this City at all since I have left it several days ago. It was nice to be away and to be in Boston. Oh well, I guess I live here and will have to deal. The young buck makes it round three, an intervention may be necessary.)
6:27 PM: After some Dunken Donuts, it is revealed that Bob Jingle knew the Sharkey's waitress's name but has now forgotten it. God bless narcotics. (Note: Our bus driver just slammed on the brakes and I heard Young Buck crash into the wall directly behind my seat. Justice has been served.)
6:58 PM: Mileage 299194: After listening to the Beastie Boys, Bob Jingle reminds each of us that the music at Sharkey's was spot on as the playlist included such classics as Arrested Development's Mr. Wendel and that god damn Chumba Wumba song. BUT FOR their fatal move of having a live band that performed god awful Blues/Jazz Fusion crapola, we would have stayed the entire evening. (Note: my bus driver must have a date with some hot piece of ass as we are currently throttling through the streets of NYC. As I try to type while being hurled from left to right, I notice that a dad has just taken his daughter into the crapper, I am sure that all of the urine will end up in its correct place... i.e. ALL OVER THEM)
7:37 PM: Mileage: 299230: In New Jersey on the turnpike: Although it is clear now that we are not going to reach the 300k mark, the return to the Garden State gives each of us a sense of accomplishment as we are now only a state away from home. Smiles, warm laughter and tales of the road are exchanged with glee.
8:58 PM: Mileage 299,268: Back in red pen mode, but Diz does not know so the authorities have not been notified. We are currently somewhere in the dirty jerz. It is dark and I am writing by the light provided by Jingle's portable dome light, the clicky kind. The fuzz is out in force so we must drive silently through these enemy lands. We hope to be home by 10 or 10:30. We will see if this goal becomes a reality. Important travel tip number 3000 of this trip: The Nathan's Hotdog place on the NJ turnpike in South Jersey fucken blizows. (Note: I am finishing this on a train back into the Jerz on Saturday, April, 22, 2006 around 2:36 PM, more on that later)
9:56 PM: Mileage: 299311: We hit a little traffic south of our current location, but it appears to that we have currently found a smooth patch of air. (I always wonder why airplane pilots announce this when you are flying, do we as passengers really want to think about how as flyers of the sky, we are at the whim of mother nature, who could simply send us crashing towards the earth at any second.)
Diz claims that his mother just called him, but I think it is his lady friend.
10:32 PM: Final Mileage: 299345: We are finally home. All and all a successful trip and glad to finally be home.
(I finished writing this while on yet another little life adventure back to my old stomping ground in New Brunswick, NJ where for four years of my life, I was a Scarlet Knight, and no that is not a gay pop boy band. Although if it was, who are you to judge me. We fucken rocked.)
In retrospect, the entire trip to VA Beach was a ton of fun and while I did not write down everything that went on while on our trip, I think all and all you get the gist. In the end, we fell short of our ultimate goal to roll the Faithful Steed over 300000 miles but we helped move the old beast just a little bit closer to reaching the ultimate goal. Moreover, the lessons learned and the friendships made will stay with each of the members of the road-trip crew forever, and yes, I just wrote that to see if you were paying attention and do not for one minute think that we learned anything or made any new friends. Except for Jingle, who I believe now has two new boyfriends in the VA Beach area.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
The Time Has Come...
As the weather has turned warmer, my beard has become more and more unbearable. As such, I decided earlier this week that it was time to get rid of the beard and embrace the clean-shaven look. Since I have grown pretty connected to my beard, I decided to share the entire shaving process with each of you.... Without further ado, here are the pics... (Oh and for those of you awaiting the exciting conclusion of the roadtrip, well that shit will be finished this weekend after I am done mourning the end of my beard... let a man have his time to deal...)
In the beginning...there was a beard.. a lovely lovely be
ard...
And then the beard became a really awful goatee with some mutton chops. This look could be useful if I wanted to be an extra on the Fox classic and recently concluded, That 70's Show... or if wanted to hang out with Aston Kutcher, that Valderama fellow, and Danny whatever his name is... I wonder if those guys ever go out rocking their looks from the show...something tells me they could go out in black face and still pull in the pussy... bastards...
And then there is the fu manchu with flavor saver combo, which I think makes me look like the dude from Super Size Me or possibly like I should be on Deadwood like a true COCKSUCKER. I would rock this look if I wanted to try to make people feel uncomfortable while sitting next to me on the subway. I say try because this look would not have an effect on anyone living in New York City so I would probably have try this one in Tennessee or Kentucky. Then again, the inhabitants of those lovely places would probably adopt me as one of their own.
But truly the only look that anyone ever wants to try to pull off is the good old fashioned mustache. A popular look for many of our fathers or that creepy uncle that may have just been a little to hands on for all of our liking. A look that in recent years has experienced a resurgence here in the Williamsburg area. Like my buddy, Diz, said, it takes courage to actually rock a mustache out in public. While I agree with this sentiment for most parts of the country, here in the Will, I think it just means that you are just another one of the flock trying desperately to look like an individual, but in the end looking just like the rest of morons out there. Anyway, here are a couple of photos of me with mustache. I have to say I look really really really really really, what is the word, CREEPY. I am giving you the dirty version and then, the version that my dad used to rock back in the 80's when he went to work, apparently on the set of some low budget porno.
And finally, here is me all cleaned up... and ready to date your mom...
The bus to hell is leaving now... I'll catch you losers later.
In the beginning...there was a beard.. a lovely lovely be
ard...And then the beard became a really awful goatee with some mutton chops. This look could be useful if I wanted to be an extra on the Fox classic and recently concluded, That 70's Show... or if wanted to hang out with Aston Kutcher, that Valderama fellow, and Danny whatever his name is... I wonder if those guys ever go out rocking their looks from the show...something tells me they could go out in black face and still pull in the pussy... bastards...
And then there is the fu manchu with flavor saver combo, which I think makes me look like the dude from Super Size Me or possibly like I should be on Deadwood like a true COCKSUCKER. I would rock this look if I wanted to try to make people feel uncomfortable while sitting next to me on the subway. I say try because this look would not have an effect on anyone living in New York City so I would probably have try this one in Tennessee or Kentucky. Then again, the inhabitants of those lovely places would probably adopt me as one of their own.
But truly the only look that anyone ever wants to try to pull off is the good old fashioned mustache. A popular look for many of our fathers or that creepy uncle that may have just been a little to hands on for all of our liking. A look that in recent years has experienced a resurgence here in the Williamsburg area. Like my buddy, Diz, said, it takes courage to actually rock a mustache out in public. While I agree with this sentiment for most parts of the country, here in the Will, I think it just means that you are just another one of the flock trying desperately to look like an individual, but in the end looking just like the rest of morons out there. Anyway, here are a couple of photos of me with mustache. I have to say I look really really really really really, what is the word, CREEPY. I am giving you the dirty version and then, the version that my dad used to rock back in the 80's when he went to work, apparently on the set of some low budget porno.
And finally, here is me all cleaned up... and ready to date your mom...
The bus to hell is leaving now... I'll catch you losers later.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
White Trash Bonanza: Virginia Beach After Dark
So after finally getting Dan to stop his seemingly endless pissing and finding a seedy little joint to rest our rain soaked bones, we ventured out into the night to figure out what exactly Virginia Beach had to offer once the sun went down.
First, we went to Sharky's, a combination sports bar, pool hall, and random game land where we were served by a giant titted waitress who I learned through an excessive amount of eaves dropping was a teacher by day and Sharky's waitress by night... a veritable renaissance woman. We also learned that Sharky'y cannot make calamari as we ended up with what I believe to be deep fried rubber bands.
As this was a sports bar, we got to watch the Red Sox beat the Orioles with Jonathan Paplebon getting his second save of the season. (In a related note, on Sunday, I got to see Pablebon, the savior of the Red Sox bullpen and the answer to our closer woes, record his sixth save of the season. NOOCH)
On a high note, I broke the high score on the rapid shoot basketball game at Sharky's earning a score of 69 (insert Bill and Ted's joke here) along with many fearful looks as I played game after game after game after game after game.....in order to do so.
On a low note, Bob Jingle made two new friends on the evening: First there was Jeremy who had been at Sharky's since noon that day and as such, bought us and probably the remainder of the bar beers. Further, he was convinced that the Brewers would win the NL Central title this year yet another indication that he had been there since noon. We also learned that Jeremy had a thing for our well-endowed waitress as she told us that he had brought her flowers, a teddy bear, and a book that evening. She did not seem to think that there was anything weird about these gifts or that Jeremy apparently came to Sharky's each week to see her. In a further related story, our waitress was a moron.
The next friend that Bob Jingle made was Logan an unbelievably intoxicated young gent who talked Mr. Jingle's ear off while we tried to play pool at a bar known simply as Retro. When asked about the conversation afterwards, Mr. Jingle confirmed that Logan may or may not have been speaking English and that he had not understood a single word that Logan had said.
We ended up at Retro's following the advice of our waitress, who we should have discredited after her previously discussed opinions of Jeremy. Retro featured all that a great bar should i.e. blaring meathead music of the Linkin Park variety, skateboard and surf videos on the TV's over the bard, and a solid gaggle of he VA Beach's finest locals, who apparently were each looking to star in X-Games 2010.
After leaving Sharky's, we took in one of VA Beach's rising musical acts, The Drunken Frat Boys, as we caught their 11 PM performance at the local karaoke bar where they performed such classics as "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen and "Bye Bye Bye" by N'Sync. Apparently, each of which can be performed in the exact same manner by screaming into a microphone at the top of your lungs.
Finally after a stop at the local gang run 7-11, we stayed at the Tropicana, which appeared to be hosting several underage drinking parties and possibly a prom. In another related note, our waitress at Sharky's also said that this was a nice place to stay as it had hosted her after-prom night of drinking. If I am not being clear, our waitress had issues.
Unfortunately, I did not take many pictures of this evening except for this interesting little mural that I found right near Sharky's. Kind of warms the heart and says welcome.
First, we went to Sharky's, a combination sports bar, pool hall, and random game land where we were served by a giant titted waitress who I learned through an excessive amount of eaves dropping was a teacher by day and Sharky's waitress by night... a veritable renaissance woman. We also learned that Sharky'y cannot make calamari as we ended up with what I believe to be deep fried rubber bands.
As this was a sports bar, we got to watch the Red Sox beat the Orioles with Jonathan Paplebon getting his second save of the season. (In a related note, on Sunday, I got to see Pablebon, the savior of the Red Sox bullpen and the answer to our closer woes, record his sixth save of the season. NOOCH)
On a high note, I broke the high score on the rapid shoot basketball game at Sharky's earning a score of 69 (insert Bill and Ted's joke here) along with many fearful looks as I played game after game after game after game after game.....in order to do so.
On a low note, Bob Jingle made two new friends on the evening: First there was Jeremy who had been at Sharky's since noon that day and as such, bought us and probably the remainder of the bar beers. Further, he was convinced that the Brewers would win the NL Central title this year yet another indication that he had been there since noon. We also learned that Jeremy had a thing for our well-endowed waitress as she told us that he had brought her flowers, a teddy bear, and a book that evening. She did not seem to think that there was anything weird about these gifts or that Jeremy apparently came to Sharky's each week to see her. In a further related story, our waitress was a moron.
The next friend that Bob Jingle made was Logan an unbelievably intoxicated young gent who talked Mr. Jingle's ear off while we tried to play pool at a bar known simply as Retro. When asked about the conversation afterwards, Mr. Jingle confirmed that Logan may or may not have been speaking English and that he had not understood a single word that Logan had said.
We ended up at Retro's following the advice of our waitress, who we should have discredited after her previously discussed opinions of Jeremy. Retro featured all that a great bar should i.e. blaring meathead music of the Linkin Park variety, skateboard and surf videos on the TV's over the bard, and a solid gaggle of he VA Beach's finest locals, who apparently were each looking to star in X-Games 2010.
After leaving Sharky's, we took in one of VA Beach's rising musical acts, The Drunken Frat Boys, as we caught their 11 PM performance at the local karaoke bar where they performed such classics as "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen and "Bye Bye Bye" by N'Sync. Apparently, each of which can be performed in the exact same manner by screaming into a microphone at the top of your lungs.
Finally after a stop at the local gang run 7-11, we stayed at the Tropicana, which appeared to be hosting several underage drinking parties and possibly a prom. In another related note, our waitress at Sharky's also said that this was a nice place to stay as it had hosted her after-prom night of drinking. If I am not being clear, our waitress had issues.
Unfortunately, I did not take many pictures of this evening except for this interesting little mural that I found right near Sharky's. Kind of warms the heart and says welcome.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
LEG TWO: A DAY OF RAINY TRAVEL DURING WHICH I THINK I SEE NOAH BUILDING AN ARK
12:00 PM: Departing Rockville, MD: We leave our gracious host after a great diner breakfast. It turns out that this will be the last really good meal that we have for the remainder of the trip since we apparently decided to dine only at place's that will never be even considered for Zagat's much less reviewed by them. The weather on this morning is a warm rain that varied from torrential downpour to torrential downpour. On the way to the breakfast spot, we pass atleast two individuals who are standing outside in this weather with placards on that ask passerby's to stop at whatever shop they are standing in front of. I wonder if this actually makes people stop because they feel sorry for these soaked souls or do people stop in order to kick the ass of the individual who sent this sucker out into this rain in the first place.
Before truly leaving Rockville, we have our first official notation of our faithful steed's mileage at 298707. We decide that a quick tour of DC is necessary... and so...
1:20 PM: DC In Our Rearview Mirror: 298719: During our extremely brief tour, we still manage to see Georgetown, the White House, the Washington Monument, the Capitol Building, the National Archives, a little rowing on the Potomac, and K-Street to boot. While we never left the confines of the faithful steed at any of these locations, I still feel we got to see some cool sites and got a good flavor for DC, which looks pretty gloomy when it is pouring rain outside.
Bob Jingle currently has to pee, but no matter what, we are heading south where the wind comes sweeping down the plain,.. where the waiving wheat it sure smells sweet.... but i digress.... Next Stop: destiny.
1:50 PM: Traffic in Northern VA: The random on the mp3 player is playing Runaway Train by Soul Asylum. Nothing really says roadtrip like the sweet musings of Dave ??? (last name unknown at the present time... text messages are sent to ascertain his last name.) Actually, there are a lot of songs that probably say roadtrip other than the random's current selection, but the random giveth and the random taketh away.
While waiting for this traffic to clear up, Bob Jingle asks Dirty Diz, whose current band is called the New Heathens, "New Heathens? Was there an Old Heathens?" Mr. Jingle's query is met with stark silence as both Diz and E "mother fucken" T stare at him evily. (Note: In real time, a large woman just entered the bathroom on my current voyage back to the Big Apple. Now, I am not Nostradomus, but I guarantee this is going to end very badly for myself and my fellow members of the back of the bus mafia. We may have to order a code red after this one. Thankfully, she returns after only thirty seconds in the bathroom, but is quickly followed by a boy, who appears to be under the age of 10 and thus does not probably know the rules since his parents have most likely neglected to inform the young buck of the rules of the road. Parents do us all a solid and school your children so that I don't have to. You won't like it when I do it.)
2:22 PM: 298750: After pissing ourselves, we see a trucker dumping out his own gallon size piss bottle on the side of the road. Well done, road warrior... well done.
2:24 PM: Diz takes over the book for the only time on the roadtrip as I need a break. After handing him the book and the red pen that I have been using for some time now, he writes: " I am informed that we are red pen mode. Authorities have been notified."
2:45 PM: From a source unknown, we learn that the name of Soul Asylum's lead singer is Dave Pirnier.
2:45 PM (Entry Two): Alternative title for this trip, Sherman's March.
2:50 PM: Currently following LI Egg on Route One, screw 95. Diz also writes that he just punched the rearview mirror. Bob Jingle says, "I am turning worse to you." Meaning and context are unknown.
(Note: reading all of this as I presently sit in traffic on the Greyhound shuttle to hell, I have no recollection of any of this stuff ever happening. From the way my memory has been functioning lately, I am lucky I remember that we went on a roadtrip. As another aside, I believe that the young buck just went for round two in the crapper, I am not going to stand for this much longer, my justice will be swift, but fair.)
5:16 PM: Near Williamsburg, VA: Mileage: 298866: We are on Scherman's March to the Sea. Currently, we have conquered Fredericksburg and are now marching onward to the Atlantic Ocean. Good luck and God bless our quest! We are wet and many of the men have scurvy. Hopefully, we will find food and safe water soon or else many will die. Our path is true, and our hearts are pure. Onward, we march. (Note: I clearly broke out the bong at this point of the trip.)
5:32 PM: Busch Gardens, VA: I say NO to the 52 dollar entry fee to the park. Dirty Diz's dreams of having fun on the roadtrip are crushed by my selfish decision, and he starts to have flashback's to family trips of the past, Kharma strikes me down as a I spill a road soda all over my crotch. We continue onward to VA beach.
6:00 PM: VA Beach: Mileage: 298, 911: Diz has to piss bad. I silently hope that he pees himself. I am a bad friend.
And as luck would have it that is where I stopped writing for the evening with Diz on the side of the road near some military base pissing his brains out while cars rushed by at 60+ miles per hour shaking our faithful steed to the core. It continued to rain as we entered the main strip of VA beach in search of a hotel and a bite to eat. (Note: on my own current journey, we have reached the giant driving range off of 95 near COOP City. For those of you who drive, you will know this area as the place where traffic comes to a dead stop no matter what time of year it is becauuse of the giant curve in the road. As well, I can hear someone towards the front of this shit mobile clipping their finger nails. God Iove that sound, and by love, I mean I want to find that person and personally remove each of their finger nails with some pliers and some rubbing alcohol...)
Before truly leaving Rockville, we have our first official notation of our faithful steed's mileage at 298707. We decide that a quick tour of DC is necessary... and so...
1:20 PM: DC In Our Rearview Mirror: 298719: During our extremely brief tour, we still manage to see Georgetown, the White House, the Washington Monument, the Capitol Building, the National Archives, a little rowing on the Potomac, and K-Street to boot. While we never left the confines of the faithful steed at any of these locations, I still feel we got to see some cool sites and got a good flavor for DC, which looks pretty gloomy when it is pouring rain outside.
Bob Jingle currently has to pee, but no matter what, we are heading south where the wind comes sweeping down the plain,.. where the waiving wheat it sure smells sweet.... but i digress.... Next Stop: destiny.
1:50 PM: Traffic in Northern VA: The random on the mp3 player is playing Runaway Train by Soul Asylum. Nothing really says roadtrip like the sweet musings of Dave ??? (last name unknown at the present time... text messages are sent to ascertain his last name.) Actually, there are a lot of songs that probably say roadtrip other than the random's current selection, but the random giveth and the random taketh away.
While waiting for this traffic to clear up, Bob Jingle asks Dirty Diz, whose current band is called the New Heathens, "New Heathens? Was there an Old Heathens?" Mr. Jingle's query is met with stark silence as both Diz and E "mother fucken" T stare at him evily. (Note: In real time, a large woman just entered the bathroom on my current voyage back to the Big Apple. Now, I am not Nostradomus, but I guarantee this is going to end very badly for myself and my fellow members of the back of the bus mafia. We may have to order a code red after this one. Thankfully, she returns after only thirty seconds in the bathroom, but is quickly followed by a boy, who appears to be under the age of 10 and thus does not probably know the rules since his parents have most likely neglected to inform the young buck of the rules of the road. Parents do us all a solid and school your children so that I don't have to. You won't like it when I do it.)
2:22 PM: 298750: After pissing ourselves, we see a trucker dumping out his own gallon size piss bottle on the side of the road. Well done, road warrior... well done.
2:24 PM: Diz takes over the book for the only time on the roadtrip as I need a break. After handing him the book and the red pen that I have been using for some time now, he writes: " I am informed that we are red pen mode. Authorities have been notified."
2:45 PM: From a source unknown, we learn that the name of Soul Asylum's lead singer is Dave Pirnier.
2:45 PM (Entry Two): Alternative title for this trip, Sherman's March.
2:50 PM: Currently following LI Egg on Route One, screw 95. Diz also writes that he just punched the rearview mirror. Bob Jingle says, "I am turning worse to you." Meaning and context are unknown.
(Note: reading all of this as I presently sit in traffic on the Greyhound shuttle to hell, I have no recollection of any of this stuff ever happening. From the way my memory has been functioning lately, I am lucky I remember that we went on a roadtrip. As another aside, I believe that the young buck just went for round two in the crapper, I am not going to stand for this much longer, my justice will be swift, but fair.)
5:16 PM: Near Williamsburg, VA: Mileage: 298866: We are on Scherman's March to the Sea. Currently, we have conquered Fredericksburg and are now marching onward to the Atlantic Ocean. Good luck and God bless our quest! We are wet and many of the men have scurvy. Hopefully, we will find food and safe water soon or else many will die. Our path is true, and our hearts are pure. Onward, we march. (Note: I clearly broke out the bong at this point of the trip.)
5:32 PM: Busch Gardens, VA: I say NO to the 52 dollar entry fee to the park. Dirty Diz's dreams of having fun on the roadtrip are crushed by my selfish decision, and he starts to have flashback's to family trips of the past, Kharma strikes me down as a I spill a road soda all over my crotch. We continue onward to VA beach.
6:00 PM: VA Beach: Mileage: 298, 911: Diz has to piss bad. I silently hope that he pees himself. I am a bad friend.
And as luck would have it that is where I stopped writing for the evening with Diz on the side of the road near some military base pissing his brains out while cars rushed by at 60+ miles per hour shaking our faithful steed to the core. It continued to rain as we entered the main strip of VA beach in search of a hotel and a bite to eat. (Note: on my own current journey, we have reached the giant driving range off of 95 near COOP City. For those of you who drive, you will know this area as the place where traffic comes to a dead stop no matter what time of year it is becauuse of the giant curve in the road. As well, I can hear someone towards the front of this shit mobile clipping their finger nails. God Iove that sound, and by love, I mean I want to find that person and personally remove each of their finger nails with some pliers and some rubbing alcohol...)
The Adventure continues...
And so like most things lately, my plans to actually write more on this blog fall to the wayside because I find myself involved with other plans and adventures. Ironically, the reason I have failed to continue to write about the most recent roadtrip to VA Beach is because this past weekend through this afternoon, I found myself in Connecticut for Easter weekend and then finally in Boston to enjoy the Red Sox, Patriot's Day, and the Boston Marathon.
I am happy to report, however, that finally after three days of fluctuating between drunk to sober and then sober to drunk, I have found some time to continue this little yarn because I am currently traveling back to the Big Apple on a Greyhound, which should take about four and half hours. Further, as luck would have it, I am seated directly in front of the urinal, which has been in constant use since we left Boston's South Station. Unfortunately, it appears that some members of our little adventure have not adhered to the unspoken rule of the road that we only utilize the facility for the purposes of urination and not to drop the kids off at the pool. As such, I am going to use the time to avoid thinking about the smell of all smells coming out of the lavatory.
With that being said, I now continue the adventure of Bob Jingle, the Dirty Diz, the Faithful Steed, E "mother fucken" T, and myself, who at the time of my last entry found themselves still thinking about leaving for points south but had yet to do anything about it.
LEG ONE: A LITTLE HOP TO THE DC AREA:
April 7, 2006: 6:30 PM-- Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York: We are currently attempting to leave New York after a brief delay for all parties to return home from work. The dashboard incense is burning, and the car is already squeaking. From the sounds of our faithful steed, we may not even make it three miles before this baby dies.
As we depart from Diz's apartment, we find ourselves immediately at a red light. I wonder if this is sign of things to come and whether or not, we will make it to DC by midnight or find ourselves sleeping at a rest stop at some point north of there. Diz lightens up the mood for all parties involves by commenting:
"I don't know what you do with a Hummer." as we pass an H3 leaving the Burg. Neither do we, Diz, neither do we.
6:39 PM: Currently in our first real batch of bumper to bumper traffic on the BQE, which is not a good sign at this early point in our journey. Meanwhile, Bob Jingle informs us that the reason that the faithful steed is currently making that noise is because of something to do with the rotors. While I am not a mechanic nor do I play one on TV, I do not believe that this is a good sign for anyone involved. (Note: While writing this entry the young girl sitting next to me on the bus is currently sleeping but doing the weird head nodding thing on my shoulder.... Go Greyhound!!!!)
7:03 PM: After continuing our early bout with New York City traffic, the decision is made to blow this popsicle stand by taking the Holland Tunnel instead of our anticipated path of travel via Staten Island. This tactical decision may pay dividends in the end but only the open road and time will tell.
7:31 PM: The Holland Tunnel turns into a turbo boost for the progress of our trip as we make it through Jersey City and to our first stop at a rest area. At which point, I announce: "I got to go pee and grab a burger."
9:10 PM: Delaware Memorial Bridge where I once again have to pee and decide that if I do not soon that I may kill again. As well, we all decide that EZ Pass always takes us to Happy Land.
And this is where the journal ended for the evening mainly due to darkness and the awful weather that we then experienced in the form of torrential downpours and spectacular lightning. We rolled into a little town called Rockville, MD around 11:30 PM where we rested for the evening thanks to the hospitality of a law school buddy of mine who gave us some beers, an air mattress, and couch. (And the Yankees lost, which always warms my heart.)
All and all, the first leg generally turned out to be a success as even at our leisurely pace we made it to the DC area with little problems and minimal traffic and with the hope that this would continue as we started leg two in the morning...
I am happy to report, however, that finally after three days of fluctuating between drunk to sober and then sober to drunk, I have found some time to continue this little yarn because I am currently traveling back to the Big Apple on a Greyhound, which should take about four and half hours. Further, as luck would have it, I am seated directly in front of the urinal, which has been in constant use since we left Boston's South Station. Unfortunately, it appears that some members of our little adventure have not adhered to the unspoken rule of the road that we only utilize the facility for the purposes of urination and not to drop the kids off at the pool. As such, I am going to use the time to avoid thinking about the smell of all smells coming out of the lavatory.
With that being said, I now continue the adventure of Bob Jingle, the Dirty Diz, the Faithful Steed, E "mother fucken" T, and myself, who at the time of my last entry found themselves still thinking about leaving for points south but had yet to do anything about it.
LEG ONE: A LITTLE HOP TO THE DC AREA:
April 7, 2006: 6:30 PM-- Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York: We are currently attempting to leave New York after a brief delay for all parties to return home from work. The dashboard incense is burning, and the car is already squeaking. From the sounds of our faithful steed, we may not even make it three miles before this baby dies.
As we depart from Diz's apartment, we find ourselves immediately at a red light. I wonder if this is sign of things to come and whether or not, we will make it to DC by midnight or find ourselves sleeping at a rest stop at some point north of there. Diz lightens up the mood for all parties involves by commenting:
"I don't know what you do with a Hummer." as we pass an H3 leaving the Burg. Neither do we, Diz, neither do we.
6:39 PM: Currently in our first real batch of bumper to bumper traffic on the BQE, which is not a good sign at this early point in our journey. Meanwhile, Bob Jingle informs us that the reason that the faithful steed is currently making that noise is because of something to do with the rotors. While I am not a mechanic nor do I play one on TV, I do not believe that this is a good sign for anyone involved. (Note: While writing this entry the young girl sitting next to me on the bus is currently sleeping but doing the weird head nodding thing on my shoulder.... Go Greyhound!!!!)
7:03 PM: After continuing our early bout with New York City traffic, the decision is made to blow this popsicle stand by taking the Holland Tunnel instead of our anticipated path of travel via Staten Island. This tactical decision may pay dividends in the end but only the open road and time will tell.
7:31 PM: The Holland Tunnel turns into a turbo boost for the progress of our trip as we make it through Jersey City and to our first stop at a rest area. At which point, I announce: "I got to go pee and grab a burger."
9:10 PM: Delaware Memorial Bridge where I once again have to pee and decide that if I do not soon that I may kill again. As well, we all decide that EZ Pass always takes us to Happy Land.
And this is where the journal ended for the evening mainly due to darkness and the awful weather that we then experienced in the form of torrential downpours and spectacular lightning. We rolled into a little town called Rockville, MD around 11:30 PM where we rested for the evening thanks to the hospitality of a law school buddy of mine who gave us some beers, an air mattress, and couch. (And the Yankees lost, which always warms my heart.)
All and all, the first leg generally turned out to be a success as even at our leisurely pace we made it to the DC area with little problems and minimal traffic and with the hope that this would continue as we started leg two in the morning...
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Diary of a Madman: The Introduction
As I mentioned in a previous post, a couple of my buddies and I took a roadtrip last weekend to the strange and amazing lands located to our South. After last year's roadtrip to Chi-town, this year's quick sojourn to the land of the Confederacy for a weekend appeared, atleast on paper, to be a mere trip to the corner store compared to last summer's 18 hour trek out west. For this trip, our numbers decreased from five to three as we cut away some of the proverbial fat in order to become a lean mean roadtripping machine of all-stars. (Actually, I think we were the only one's who could go away last weekend.) Whatever the reasoning, this trip's cast included:
The Faithful Steed-- a Gold 1989 Volvo Wagon that started our voyage with approximately 298,400 miles to its credit as well as several odd noises. (more on that later)...(PICTURE PENDING AT THE TIME OF PUBLICATION, she is sensitive about being photographed.)
The Driver--
One, Mr. Bob Jingle, a fellow Nutmegger and patriot, who during his formative years was no stranger to the wrong side of the law incurring an unmatched portfolio of moving violations while tearing through the streets of little town Connecticut. Thankfully, in recent years, the Bobber has rehabilitated his driving record while still maintaining the same killer instinct that made him fully qualified to lead our trip.
The Navigator--
The Dirty Diz, a former Flanders All-Star and a man with an unmatched sense of direction, cartography, and a lethal ability to find an alternative route around any traffic jam. Some say that the Diz has ice running through his veins as he remains calm in the most stressful of situations on the open road. In truth, the Diz's talents are the direct result of numerous family roadtrips that he endured as a youth during which he promised to himself that when it was his time to hit the open road, he would not make the mistakes that haunted his family's past trips.
The Dude in the Backseat--
And here is where I come in as part trip manager, organizer of the backseat and trunk areas, drink bitch, and the general source of lunacy, unnecessary commentary, and all around non-sensicality (inventing words). While seemingly not as important as the driver or the navigator, who some would argue that without the roadtrip would never occur, I maintain that my position is just as critical to the overall success of any roadtrip as I am the provider, who ensures that the driver and the navigator maintain their mental edge even after hours of driving while still managing to keep the mood light enough to thwart any challenges that threaten to derail the entire trip. Most importantly, I maintained the position of scribe taking down all the adventures that we endured along the way.
The Mascot--
E "Mother Fucken" T, my faithful confidant and friend, who has traveled with me on almost every trip that I have made since I discovered him in the attic of my childhood home many years ago. Throughout this voyage, he remained our faithful icon who sat silently on the dashboard never looking at the road ahead but rather staring silently back at each us analyzing our souls as if to see whether or not we had the internal fortitude and mental strength to complete the quest at hand.
And so on Friday, April 7, 2006 around 6:30 PM, this team of all-stars left to explore the South with no real goal or destination other than the outside hope to see the Faithful Steed pass the 300,000 mile benchmark by journey's end...
Over the next couple of days, I hope to transcribe these adventures here so that you, my faithful readers, can get a flavor for what happens when three young men, a 17 year old car, and a plastic icon stop being polite and start... their roadtrip at 6:30 on a Friday evening in New York City i.e. the height of rush hour traffic...
The Faithful Steed-- a Gold 1989 Volvo Wagon that started our voyage with approximately 298,400 miles to its credit as well as several odd noises. (more on that later)...(PICTURE PENDING AT THE TIME OF PUBLICATION, she is sensitive about being photographed.)
The Driver--
One, Mr. Bob Jingle, a fellow Nutmegger and patriot, who during his formative years was no stranger to the wrong side of the law incurring an unmatched portfolio of moving violations while tearing through the streets of little town Connecticut. Thankfully, in recent years, the Bobber has rehabilitated his driving record while still maintaining the same killer instinct that made him fully qualified to lead our trip.
The Navigator--
The Dirty Diz, a former Flanders All-Star and a man with an unmatched sense of direction, cartography, and a lethal ability to find an alternative route around any traffic jam. Some say that the Diz has ice running through his veins as he remains calm in the most stressful of situations on the open road. In truth, the Diz's talents are the direct result of numerous family roadtrips that he endured as a youth during which he promised to himself that when it was his time to hit the open road, he would not make the mistakes that haunted his family's past trips.
The Dude in the Backseat--
And here is where I come in as part trip manager, organizer of the backseat and trunk areas, drink bitch, and the general source of lunacy, unnecessary commentary, and all around non-sensicality (inventing words). While seemingly not as important as the driver or the navigator, who some would argue that without the roadtrip would never occur, I maintain that my position is just as critical to the overall success of any roadtrip as I am the provider, who ensures that the driver and the navigator maintain their mental edge even after hours of driving while still managing to keep the mood light enough to thwart any challenges that threaten to derail the entire trip. Most importantly, I maintained the position of scribe taking down all the adventures that we endured along the way.
The Mascot--
E "Mother Fucken" T, my faithful confidant and friend, who has traveled with me on almost every trip that I have made since I discovered him in the attic of my childhood home many years ago. Throughout this voyage, he remained our faithful icon who sat silently on the dashboard never looking at the road ahead but rather staring silently back at each us analyzing our souls as if to see whether or not we had the internal fortitude and mental strength to complete the quest at hand.
And so on Friday, April 7, 2006 around 6:30 PM, this team of all-stars left to explore the South with no real goal or destination other than the outside hope to see the Faithful Steed pass the 300,000 mile benchmark by journey's end...
Over the next couple of days, I hope to transcribe these adventures here so that you, my faithful readers, can get a flavor for what happens when three young men, a 17 year old car, and a plastic icon stop being polite and start... their roadtrip at 6:30 on a Friday evening in New York City i.e. the height of rush hour traffic...
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Some Happy Thoughts
As I ran home from work today, I realized that I am a pretty happy camper these days. While it is true that I have consumer debt beyond my means, educational debt that will take me until I am put in the ground to repay, a job and career that I feel sucks the life out of me on a daily basis, and a nasty case of gas.... BUT I AM HAPPY...
And as such I figured that I would let you know what exactly has made me currently not mind living:
1. Baseball is back-- I know that I love sports and I know that it takes up too much of my life but yesterday, I stayed home from work and was able to catch the first Red Sox game of the season. As a result, I got to hear the first musings of the year from Don Orsillo and his partner in crime, Jerry Remy. Then, later that night, I got to watch the Yanks and their crack team of retards explain to me what exactly makes Yankees Baseball so much better than everything else on earth including cancer research, feeding the hungry, and striving towards world peace. But none of their cock smokery mattered because I realized that I would be able to watch my favorite sport for the next seven months or so... Moreover, it meant that all of the months of speculation are now over as the Red Sox finally get to play some real games and see exactly what the moves made during the off-season mean in terms of their success in 2006.. and so I was happy... (mark this one down, the Sox should piss me off soon enough.)
2. The Lights FINALLY Came Back On-- For the past several months, I have been running at night. Everyday when I get back from work, I put on my shoes, shorts, and top of choice and head out into the darkness to log my miles. To be quite honest with each of you, the fact that I have been spending most of my time running without the sun has started to bug the shit out of me. I mean I was getting downright depressed and I quickly was moving towards not being able to deal with another dance in the dark. Come to think of it, I probably saw that damn owl because he realized that I was becoming part of his nocturnal fraternity. And so, although I had to lose an hour of sleep in order to achieve my new found light, I might be the happiest person on earth that our clocks were moved ahead one hour last weekend so that I can now run during daylight hours. (A little sun never hurt nobody... actually that is not true at all... wear sunblock kiddies.)
3. Spring Has Sprung and People Are Nicer?-- It happens every year, the weather starts to warm up and people appear to lighten up a little bit and actually exhibit some emotion other than bitter bitter contempt when they encounter their fellow man. For example, just today on the run home, I experienced this thawing of human emotion as I received several smiles as I ran by people walking on the sidewalk we shared. Just months ago, I am sure that these were the same people who were trying to drive me into the street, the snow, the ice, the pits of hell, and anything else they could force me towards in order to abruptly end my run. But today, it was all smiles.... as well as some fine young gentleman actually cupped his cigarette when I ran by in order to avoid smoke heading my way... and so I guess maybe some of my faith in you bastards has been returned... (not all, some... we have a long way to go here people...)
4. One Word: ROADTRIP (that may be two words)-- That's right, this Friday, me and two buddies leave the confines of Gotham for points unknown in order to simply drive and get away. I have been on mini-roadtrips before but this weekend will be my first real trip where we could seriously end up anywhere... actually since we all have to work on Monday, probably not anywhere but we have nothing planned. It should be fun as we set our sights for warmer climates.. and hopefully the car will not break down and we will not have to eat each other to survive.. but then again, if that happpens, this blog would become a hell of a lot more interesting...
So there are some things that have made me happy lately... Oh I left out the fact that my half marathon this weekend turned out to be a giant success as me and one of my training buddies stuck 7 minute mile pace for the entire thing... now we just need to get faster, stay injury free, and focus... as there are eight weeks to go, we have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we are wearing sunglasses... HIT IT... (and yes, I probably used that line before in one of my posts but GOD DAMN, it is a great line and a good one to end the night on...)
Later.
And as such I figured that I would let you know what exactly has made me currently not mind living:
1. Baseball is back-- I know that I love sports and I know that it takes up too much of my life but yesterday, I stayed home from work and was able to catch the first Red Sox game of the season. As a result, I got to hear the first musings of the year from Don Orsillo and his partner in crime, Jerry Remy. Then, later that night, I got to watch the Yanks and their crack team of retards explain to me what exactly makes Yankees Baseball so much better than everything else on earth including cancer research, feeding the hungry, and striving towards world peace. But none of their cock smokery mattered because I realized that I would be able to watch my favorite sport for the next seven months or so... Moreover, it meant that all of the months of speculation are now over as the Red Sox finally get to play some real games and see exactly what the moves made during the off-season mean in terms of their success in 2006.. and so I was happy... (mark this one down, the Sox should piss me off soon enough.)
2. The Lights FINALLY Came Back On-- For the past several months, I have been running at night. Everyday when I get back from work, I put on my shoes, shorts, and top of choice and head out into the darkness to log my miles. To be quite honest with each of you, the fact that I have been spending most of my time running without the sun has started to bug the shit out of me. I mean I was getting downright depressed and I quickly was moving towards not being able to deal with another dance in the dark. Come to think of it, I probably saw that damn owl because he realized that I was becoming part of his nocturnal fraternity. And so, although I had to lose an hour of sleep in order to achieve my new found light, I might be the happiest person on earth that our clocks were moved ahead one hour last weekend so that I can now run during daylight hours. (A little sun never hurt nobody... actually that is not true at all... wear sunblock kiddies.)
3. Spring Has Sprung and People Are Nicer?-- It happens every year, the weather starts to warm up and people appear to lighten up a little bit and actually exhibit some emotion other than bitter bitter contempt when they encounter their fellow man. For example, just today on the run home, I experienced this thawing of human emotion as I received several smiles as I ran by people walking on the sidewalk we shared. Just months ago, I am sure that these were the same people who were trying to drive me into the street, the snow, the ice, the pits of hell, and anything else they could force me towards in order to abruptly end my run. But today, it was all smiles.... as well as some fine young gentleman actually cupped his cigarette when I ran by in order to avoid smoke heading my way... and so I guess maybe some of my faith in you bastards has been returned... (not all, some... we have a long way to go here people...)
4. One Word: ROADTRIP (that may be two words)-- That's right, this Friday, me and two buddies leave the confines of Gotham for points unknown in order to simply drive and get away. I have been on mini-roadtrips before but this weekend will be my first real trip where we could seriously end up anywhere... actually since we all have to work on Monday, probably not anywhere but we have nothing planned. It should be fun as we set our sights for warmer climates.. and hopefully the car will not break down and we will not have to eat each other to survive.. but then again, if that happpens, this blog would become a hell of a lot more interesting...
So there are some things that have made me happy lately... Oh I left out the fact that my half marathon this weekend turned out to be a giant success as me and one of my training buddies stuck 7 minute mile pace for the entire thing... now we just need to get faster, stay injury free, and focus... as there are eight weeks to go, we have a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we are wearing sunglasses... HIT IT... (and yes, I probably used that line before in one of my posts but GOD DAMN, it is a great line and a good one to end the night on...)
Later.
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