So much to say about nothing

Shame, Shame, I know your name.

2008-10-23T18:48:00.000-07:00

Shame shame, I know your name.
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Automotive

5 days...
8 days...
42 days...
and sometime in between...
So much is going on around me, and yet, it seems as of late, things are honing in all too clear.
In case you haven't noticed, I haven't written much in a while... my blog site has been bone dry, lack of all inspiration of chatty stories of times happier, more creative, and certainly less bleak, than this...
So where did it all go wrong?
Ah... now isn't that the question!
I digress.
Lately, clarity has been scratching at the window pane of my mind, eloquently knocking me upside the head with obvious signs of rationality.
"HEY!", "STOP THAT!"
I guess you can say that it was some time ago, that I asked... more like told... but the tricky thing about it was... I was told in a such a way that I thought it was my idea! Yes... cheeky isn't it? Yeah... but I was asked to remove my coat and settle down in the house of the domestics... the coat of course being a metaphor for my fucking personality.
I'm the tosser who, for so long, scoffed at the silly dregs who so knowingly handed over their testicles, only to become one of them...
Ah, but you say CJ... you must've wanted to remove your coat... you must've wanted to sit down on that couch of domestication...
You poor, poor fools...
I woke up here... hands tied... my opinion and character choked off, somewhere in a corner.
Look at me now.
I must not negate the times I've had that were good, all in all, I think I've learned to be a bit more patient... and try to examine how I deal with the in's and out's of everyday in this blissful current, that I'm living out.
Peaks and valleys, is what I've heard...
I've heard a lot though... more about how much of a bad person I am than about mountain scape.
Life is a constant hot and cold... right vs wrong... I've been told of the team element that is supposed to exist... at what point do I get to call a personal foul when my teammate takes a cheap shot?
Ah me... things do happen for a reason... but, often, I've been pondering... how we're often given two choices... Do I eat the apple from the serpent, or don't I? And while the purpose behind the disobedience is to learn a lesson in listening to authoritative figures... what about the purpose in not consuming the beady eyed reptile's temptation of fruit?
Something to think about I guess.
I have always been a man who has much conviction for his passions, and is opinionated, on many things... This, I've been told can be a very endearing quality... to which it's yet to be explored, much less appreciated.
How dare I stand up for myself!!!
Shame shame CJ...
That's not being respectable...

In Toronto...

2008-03-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

They have free internet in their airports... who knew!? In such this that we live in, nothing and I mean nothing is free anymore. I’ve been to many places around the world that even using the restroom isn’t free; you either have to pay for some sort of item in the facility, or you have to purchase some sort of “bathroom pass”. Even on the washington state ferry systems, the internet they have available is no longer free... I do recall that at it’s inception, the wifi they had available was free but it was only available on limited boats to and from Seattle... They now have internet on all of the boats, but you have to pay, you can even subscribe to some sort of, “frequent internet users club” it’s pretty horrible.
Not in Canada though... they firmly believe that some free little things in life just add that little pep in your step that you need to get through the day, especially when that day includes a 5 and a half hour layover.
So I sit here in Canada, blogging, drinking booze and NyQuil preparing for the final leg of my trip.
I don’t care what some people say, the French-Canadians are alright in my book.... well, my Macbook.
Be well friends... I’ll be seeing you next in Portugal.

Top Ten Albums of 2007 (upcoming Podcast)

2008-01-03T03:58:00.000-08:00

Well that time has come ladies and gents... well it came a while ago, I’ve just been too damn lazy to take action and complete a blog, like so many have before me, about the best, this is no opinion by the way, albums of this past year.

We’re going to run this from the ground up... so naturally, we’ll be starting at number 10...

BUT FIRST!!
There are some that didn’t quite make the cut onto the the illustrious “top ten list of 07” but we feel they should be mentioned anyhow...
The albums receiving Honorable Mention this year are:
Pela - Anytown Graffiti
The Shins - Wincing the night away
Blonde Redhead - 23
Battles - Mirrored
Grizzly Bear - Friend
and last but not least
Radiohead - In Rainbows

And to the list-

Numero 10:
For me, I’m going to say... Live @ KEXP volume 3... while this was a great album... (certainly, it made it my top ten) it’s coming in at last place on the top ten list of 07... this in one great compilation and I imagine it was next to impossible for the producers at KEXP to throw together, but, in my opinion, there were some better albums for this past year... 9 of them in fact.

Best song: Billy Bragg singing, “Waiting for the Great leap forward”

Number 9:
She wants Revenge- This is forever.
This band is great, but I feel they could’ve done a lot better on this album this year, it didn’t have that catch that they had with their title album they put out in 06. Still good but not as good as they could be.

Best song: “Written in Blood”

Number 8:
Interpol - Our love to admire.
This band, while it seems they’re turning a little too corporate, they still keep what they had when they first debuted, a sort of raw... we’re going to play whatever they hell we want.

Best song: “No I in threesome”

Number 7:
Maps - We can create
This is such a great album for anything going on in your life... I like to put it on and just relax while traveling on the tube... so great. Thank you maps... looking forward to your next release.

Best song: “To the sky”

Number 6:
!!! - Myth Takes
Everything these guys do is great... I learned from a live recording that they did at KEXP this year that, at times, they have up to 23 people contributing to their sound... also... their name isn’t limed to the sound... Chk Chk Chk... it could be any sound in groups of three...

Best Song: the title track “Myth Takes”

Now we’ve reached it... the elite... the best of the best for the year... the top 5... you’ve heard of them... or maybe you haven’t... but the fact still is... these bands are fucking great.

Number 5:
Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
I’d say this is by far their best release of anything they’ve put out. The album hits on so many different levels... with the number 7 track, “the underdog”, which happens to be my favourite... kicking up the pace and excitement of the release...

Best song: surprise surprise... “The Underdog”

Number 4:
Iron & Wine - The shepherd’s dog
I had an appreciation for their work from what they’ve put out before this release... I purchased it reluctantly after I had heard one song, “Boy with a coin”. I say I was reluctant because what I had experienced in the past with this band was that they would put out one good song on a release then they’d kind of half ass it through the rest. I was pleasantly surprised this year with what they put out. Holy Balls was this a good album.

Best song: “Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car”

Number 3:
The Cave Singers - Invitation Songs
This is the Cave Singers debut album... and what a debut it is. I was first introduced to this band at the KEXP BBQ in August that I sponsored back in Seattle. I had the pleasure of meeting the lead singer backstage and he was not only a really humble artist, we seemed to be a genuinely great person... kind of hard to find these days. This is one of the few albums that I have, put out this year of not, that I can honestly listen to from start to completion. Amazing

Best Song: “Dancing on our Graves”

Number 2:
The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
This band in truly amazing... with each release they seem to capture a new sound... for example... the song, “Antichrist television blues” sounds like it’s being sung by, “the boss” (Springsteen)

Best song: “Keep the car running”

Number 1:
LCD Soundsystem - Sound of Silver
From start to finish, wow... this album is fucking awesome! Even more so, the fact that the amazing sounds of LCD Soundsystem are created by one dude... incredible.
Picking the best song of this album was next to impossible... but I think I’m going to have to go with this one...

Best Song: “Someone Great”

Honorable Mention: “Watch the Tapes”

Stay tuned for the upcoming podcast by pema and myself on my .mac blogsite

Me... ranting... what's new really?

2008-01-03T01:40:00.000-08:00

I stopped by the National Gallery today... and holy balls there is some amazing stuff in there. I got to take a good look at some of the work that Rembrandt painted... of course they had some of Van-Gogh’s work, this being the second time I’ve seen his work in real life, and each time... amazement.
The gallery had some works from the 12-1500’s which were mainly having to do with Jesus... the Lord guy.
You know what I’ve noticed about these paintings... and a lot from other time periods... there’s a whole lot of people just standing around. Take for example this painting I had viewed from the 13th century... “Paul’s brother comes to visit him in Egypt”, while in the center of the painting you have paul standing in the doorway, and who I assume is his brother, kneeling at his feel holding some sort of vestibule of water, then, there are a whole lot of people just fucking standing around... this is a constant thing going on in all of these scenes. Where there really that many people just milling about while no drive, I mean, other than to be in some guy’s painting of course... I would think that who ever was doing the painting of whatever scene would clear out the area save the subjects he was trying to paint... yeah, it’s cool to have some lady pulling an ox in the background, or a maybe a beggar stealing some rotten cheese off of a moving cart, it’s a little artistic vision, I get it... but to have the entire canvas, right to left, filled with people doing various things... I’ve got to say, I’m a little distracted as to why the brother came all this way to Egypt just to kneel down to give Paul some water... which brings up another point... if I was that crazy ass traveling brother, I’d be taking a little bit of that water for myself... hell, I’m the one that’s been traveling all god damned week, I need a bit of hydration Paul, how about you go into your nice cozy house and grab me some ice and one of those ladies with the palm things to give me a slight breeze... brother.
But I guess that’s just me.
Moving on to other things... let me just say, first off, I know that it was looked on as nobility to have your skin the color of milk back in the day, but I’m so glad that whole pale woman thing isn’t happening... not to say that I like when people have that nice orange glow of fake UV rays... well I do, it gives me something to laugh at... but a dark skinned woman is so much more appealing than pigment free kind.
Again, I’m just one person... with just one opinion...

well... many... I have many opinions.

Some reasons for all of us to love London.

2008-01-01T15:54:00.000-08:00

First of all... the beer, while it takes a bit to get used to it served room temperature... it’s strong, that of the likes to where I had one pint this evening and I can’t feel my face already... to those of you that know me... that’s of some significance.
So after I had my pint in SOHO... which is an awesome district of central london... I made my way back to the tube station to which I came... oxford circus.
I found an easy way, through a back alley or so it looked... when the actuality came to me that it was a row of strip clubs for men and women a like... then a whole ass-whack of porn shops...
To clarify, this isn’t one of the reasons why I love london, and you should too... it’s just a mere detail among the reasons why...
So... I made my way, late at night back in the direction of oxford circus... I found a McDonalds so I decided I should grab a large thing of chips... (fries) as to soak up some of this brew settling in my stomach... and... who the hell doesn’t love some Mac D’s chips? No one that’s who...
So I couldn’t help but notice... the kids cleaning off the tables and cleaning the general area of the store... wore bow ties... that’s right, everyone was dressed up... as far as the standards as American fast food joints go. My chips came fast, as well as hot and wonderful... a change from their american brothers...
That could be a reason there.
Another true reason... futbol... HELLO!
On the telly all the time... one... and secondly, in the papers... not to mention the ability to go out and catch a match whenever I please... I’d take the outside ranks of the premier league over any MLS team any day.
A English sports update, Cricket really isn’t that bad either... I’m kind of getting into it.
Furthering our reasons... the exchange rate... oh my! Now, it sucks if you’re American and you’re paid on the dollar... which I am... but I hope to move here one day, in the near future and that’s a great thing to look forward to... especially when I’ll be traveling back to the US of States to do a bit of visiting to my kin.
Moving to Manhattan would be a lot easier after we live in London for a good amount... that’s for sure. (We being pem and myself)
I could go on and on... music, fashion... I should note the distinct similarities with the kids here and how everyone looks in capitol hill in Seattle...

Oh yes, another reason... transit here is fast and efficient... hello... the tube... I’ve got my oyster card and I really have nothing to worry about... I top it up online and I have no reason to fret. God bless the Queen.
Stay tuned for the next podcast by pema and myself... she has yet to return from Essex.
Stay cool.
www.web.mac.com/cjgraglia

Born to use a mac

2007-12-25T00:34:00.000-08:00

I'm so proud to announce my niece's natural draw to apple... I knew she was a bright kid.

Mother Dolittle, and the dancing likes of my father and niece.

2007-12-23T15:07:00.000-08:00

Happy holidays to all of you out there in the blogisphere...
I was able to make it home to Grants Pass, Oregon for the holidays, which hasn't happened in a long time. I've been home here and there, but this is the first time I've been able to make it back for an actual holiday... it's great... but my family is great... I love it.
True to form, my mother has adopted yet another animal into her home. I think it's how she's dealt with her empty nest syndrome. Since I went my own way in life, she's taken in too many dogs to count, a couple ferrets, some birds, a cat, various rodents, and I believe there was a time she was trying to get a goat in the side yard of her old house. If there's one thing my mother can't say no to... it is an animal in need. If only I could perfect the sad puppy look when I was in college... I would've been able to anything.
So my mother moved, into a smaller home which she's more able to live in with her disabilities... even though the place in considerably smaller than her last home, she still keeps the same amount of animals with her.
The newest addition to the family is a black, long haired Chihuahua... and I have no idea what it's name is...
Those of you that are close to me know that my niece is the most precious thing in the world to me... and I like to think I'm equally important to her. Yesterday afternoon I lay on the couch trying to take a nap with some blankets draped all over me... this, of course, was right after I taught her how to kick a ball like a real athlete... (that's a futballer for those of you that are unsure)
Well, this didn't sit well with Baylee. (My niece) She climbed up onto the couch calling out, "uncle"... it should be mentioned that I, in no way, can type out how she actually pronounced it, let alone portray just how adorable she sounds when she says it.
I responded by saying, "Baylee" to which she repeated, "uncle" and this back and forth lasted a couple of minutes.
The thing that I'm most proud of, is her adoration for music... she will dance to any rhythm... and when I say dance, I don't mean that typical swaying which most children do, she full on gets down... air guitar, shoulder movements, stomp dancing.
The funniest thing about Baylee and her dancing, is her grandfather, my dad, trying to entertain her by dancing the same way... thing of it is, Baylee is a little weary of my father because he's a crazy old guy... not crazy like, some old guy locked up in his house, collecting cats and shooing children from his yard... I mean that Baylee just isn't old enough to understand her grandpa's craziness and how cool he actually is. But for now, she gives him glances that pretty much say, "I'm really not sure about you bald guy"... which are the same looks that we all give him really... kidding...
The new life of my niece has made me realize how much all of us are alike... my family... not all of us in the world...
we all sit around... my mother knitting, my father watching football while playing with the cat, my sister reading and texting her friend, my grandmother putting together little snacks for us to eat, while my niece sits on the floor dancing while reciting the ABC's... yeah, she just over a year old... smart kid.
Not to mention, she loves mac... standby for pictures.

Have a happy holidays everyone, whatever your holiday, however your family is.

My virgin ride on a bus, witness to catholic school lawn urination and other family time stories...

2007-12-20T23:28:00.000-08:00

Today was the first time in my life I've ever ridden a public bus. I'm completely serious about this... I've been told that I should be a little ashamed of this, but I don't care.
So pema and I parked my car at her house and trotted off to the nearest bus stop to ride it downtown to do some night shooting. (cameras not guns) At first I wasn't that nervous, but as more and more people gathered around waiting I was sure that I'd do something wrong, make some sort of rookie mistake and I've have the entire bus looking at me laughing... pointing... "He doesn't know what he's doing!! What? Is it his first time!?" After that I'd probably hate myself forever...
But, there's no need to worry, I didn't do anything stupid. I put my change into the little change acceptor and I sat my happy self down...
The bus ride into the heart of downtown wasn't that eventful... other than some hooligan bastard children in the back, which would entice the creepy bus driver to get over the PA system and ask them to "shut the fuck up" in CJ terms, he sounded so raspy... like your creepy gay uncle frankfurt, that just wants to talk to you in the game closet at the house of your aunt beatrice.
That story is for another time.
Our journey home was much more eventful!
So, picture me rollin'... yeah, in a bus... sitting there nice and neatly with my camera bag on my lap and my plain looking face, just trying to blend in... enter nice quiet girl holding a brown paper grocery bad from Trader Joes. (Organic grocery store) Well she sits across the way from Pem and myself... minding her own business she relaxes from a long day from working and grocery shopping and closes her eyes. After almost 10 fucking minutes of her arrival, the jackass next to me leans forward to engage our shopping friend in conversation.
"You must be really brown baggin' it today"
"What?"
"You must be really brown baggin' it today."
"What" Our lovely friend repeats while adding a "what the fuck are you talking about?" look on her face.
"No... you must be really brown baggin' it... like brown baggin' it to work, like, you must be really into saving money or eating good."
"This is a grocery bag" Then she closed her eyes, as she was before Capt. brown bag interrupted her relaxing bus time.
He waited a little while longer, my guess is to come up with some more witty conversation, and he engaged her again.
"Well that's a good choice..."
"Excuse me?"
"I've just heard that it's a good store, organic and stuff..."
He badgered her with more riveting conversation about grocery store choices while Pema and I struggled keeping from bursting out with laughter. I loved it! What got me, was how he waited so long to talk to her, and that's what he came up with. Even better was the fact that his ill attempt at wit was completely shot down... and he was stuck floundering in the sea of his sad humor. Poor girl.
So we de-bussed... and we had to walk about 5 blocks before we'd be in the warmth of Pema's home.
While walking home, we saw one of the most perfectly disgusting things ever!
We were passing a catholic school/perish... and we saw, on the lawn standing right in front of a lit window a girl doing some sort of gymnastic stretches, which made pema and I... interested?
Then actuality hit us suddenly... and at the same time...
OH!!! Fucking hell
The young child was peeing... urinating right in front of a church, on a well traveled street, in front of a window that had a fucking light on... all we could really see was the outline of a small girl, attempted a downward dog position very poorly, and what we realized a little after we had been intently peering in her direction... steam rising from the area in which she'd chosen to relieve herself...
I've never felt so disgusting in my life... I'm mean, don't get me wrong, I've seen people pee in public... I've seen people deficate in public... but the people that are usually performing such acts, are also the people that stand on the corner holding signs and asking for my money... they are definitely not doing yoga on a church lawn in wallingford... which until now was, what I thought, a nice neighborhood.
I guess the free peeing homeless have to start somewhere... and that place is the lawn of your local perish...

Perception is reality

2007-12-18T08:05:00.000-08:00

God, I'm such a bad ass...
OH! Hello again, it's been a while since I've seen you all... good to be home.
Now you might perceive by the way I started off this blog that I'm going to be ranting about how much I kick ass and how I am knock down, drag out, scare the shit out of you hardcore. For you that think that... I'm sorry to disappoint.
I like to think that I'm a bad ass at times, but the truth is that I'm that guy who turns down his hardcore gangster rap and locks the door whenever someone that is actually "hard" comes by my car, not unlike Michael Bolton in Office Space... Yeah, I'm that cool.
My half ranting comes from what's been happening to me late... and the treatment that I've been receiving makes me wish I were an actual bad ass... not the kind that plays one on television.
As most of you already know, my right arm is clad with tattoos from top to bottom, the "sleeve" type is what it's called in some circles... and I got all "inked up" from a monk in Thailand while I traveled there... pretty bad ass right? I like to think so... then, this past Sunday, my girlfriend and I went and pierced our septum's... (the middle cartilage in your nose).
All I need now is a cut off leather jacket vest thingy and some chains, and I can hang on the corner throwing dice with my rag tag gangster friends. (circa 1953)
I say all this because of how I'm treated regardless of anything else I do.
Perception is in fact, reality.
While I transit around, sometimes I'm required to depend on public transportation, which is where I run into most of my problems... mothers guarding their children while flashing me dirty looks as if I'm a confirmed pedophile... please lady, your kid isn't my type... I like darker hair... kidding
I knew that stuff like this would happen but I never expected to be this caddy.
Oh well I guess.
The only thing I have to say about is... I wish I was as much of a bad ass as people are making me out to be... I wish I was "hard" just because of my tattoos and nose piercing.
If that was the case I'd break bottles of jack daniels over my face just to prove a point at my local hells angles hangout... then flex on 'em all...
"What son? I ride a ducati... got a problem with that? Why you got to be blowin' up my spot like that?"
Man, if only...
I guess all of this is sort of true... of you follow one of my favorite quotes...

"You are not who you think you are... you are not who you think others think you are... you are who you think others think you are."

Which is a very true statement...
That being said... aside from the hells angel brawls and busting bottles on my face... I'm a grade A bad ass...
well not grade A... like grade B... minus...
Where's a printer when you really need to take out all of your aggression... huh?

No Mo Thai-Lan!

2007-10-09T23:14:00.000-07:00

So, my trip is officially over... well sans the return home, as I'm currently writing from the Narita Airport in Tokyo, Japan. I hate long flights. So many things blew my mind about this vacation for me... first of all... Thailand is great, the people, the places... it would be a place that I would live... seriously.
really there are so many fun things to tell about... our adventure to Koh Lanta [an island in southern thailand] where we stayed at the most amazing resort where the walls in our bungalow opened up as full sized doors... Me getting pulled over and recieved a ticket, to which I had to pay 200 THB to get out of it. Riding elephants in Chiand Mai... seeing cobras... getting tattooed by a monk, visitig all of the crazy markets... riding the water taxis for free.. learning thai... not to mention to awesome 20's party we attended this past saturday that was invite only... it came in a tri fold cardboard carrier where it was written on the inside, "Dress Code" where there was a DVD of the film, "The Great Gatsby"
Picture time!
We're so 20's

there were free drinks... gloves... the miming just happened

I've been getting my Vitamin C the wrong way...

2007-09-25T23:26:00.000-07:00

Now, I'm a big fan of Orange Juice... I like it with some pulp... so good. Until now I thought I'd been living the right way, drinking my Orange Juice... enjoying life, while I was blind to how I should be conducting myself.
Everyday for the past 6 days, I've had Orange Juice in the morning... what's so special about that you might ask... hold on, I'll tell you. For one, it's cheaper than it is in America and secondly and most important, it's freshly sqeezed... and I'm not talking the corny kind... how minute maid says on the side of thier box, "Homestyle" or, "grovestand"... this shit is 100% the real deal, sqeezed after I've ordered it.
Right now, I'm sitting drinking a screwriver with freshly sqeezed OJ... and I've got to tell you, I care to live no other way.
Last night we took a night train up from Bangkok to where we are now, which is Chiang Mai... we're staying at a resort called Ayatana which is outside of the city and it's incredible... once we arrived at the hotel we were greated it with fresh fruit and freshly sqeezed orange juice... [that shit is good]
Our room is amazing... our double door entrance opens up to our sleeping area with the bathroom behind it... the mirror seperates to open up a view between the bed and bath... the shower has a floor to ceiling old style window that opens up to an enclosed balcony with a large vase-like thing that holds hot water to wash your face off in the morning.
The more my I see of this country I really fall more and more in love. The people are very generous... to be honest, in the begining, I thought, quite cynically in fact, that they were being nice to me because they wanted money... [as the US Dollar is worth a lot more than the Thai Baht, not to mention that farangs are seen as very wealthy] but that wasn't true... one of the main ideas in this country is hospitality. Genuine hospitality... being raised in America I've adopted that, "what's in it for me?" type of attitude and that really isn't the case here. It's really something to see.
My thai is coming along, and I thought I was doing alright, until I had a run in at the weekend market [Chatuchak] when I tried to ask a lady how much something was... yeah... completely embarassed myself, but I guess I was redeemed when, yesterday a lady told me that my Thai was very good at MBK [another huge shopping center].
PIcture time:

This is soi phradiphat the road my first hotel was on in Bangkok

We're sitting at a bar, and wouldn't you know it... but an elephant walks up.

My lady outside of wat bang phra after we got some yant tattoos

My yant tattoo done by monks

Second Bangkok post.

2007-09-21T19:21:00.000-07:00

Good morning Bangkok...
I sit here on my balcony watching the sun come up, I'm sitting in a pair of board shorts and nothing else... it's that perfect temperature.
So much has happened since my last post.
Yesterday we went on an awesome adventure to a temple or (wat) about 50km west of the city to be tattooed by monks. What we had to do was purchase some gifts for the monks which were a pack of smokes, some incense and some flowers, all of which cost 55 Baht, (A little over a dollar American)... which is by far the cheapest tattoo I've ever received. So after we purchased our gifts we went into the temple where the monk was performing the tattooing. We entered the temple on our knees and placed our gifts in a golden dish on the floor... when the monk had completed the tattoo he was working on he then motioned the rest of us in the room to approach... so the group of us all held the dish of purchased gifts and he took it two hands and blessed it and meditated over the offerings. When he was done with that the gifts were separated and placed in other dishes, and the tattooing started. When my turn came I came to the pillow that was positioned in front of him, I knelt and bowed three times while touching him on the knee... then he had me sit cross legged in front of him and he chose the prayer that was to be tattooed on my back. The style of tattooing is called Yant and it's done by many dabs into your skin with the needle which is formed from the root from a tree that is blessed by monks, the ink is made from cobra venom. The process of being tattooed didn't really hurt, it was more loud than it was painful... which made me kind of smile because my tattoo artist back in Seattle told me about that. When we had completed he then dabbed it with a cloth that was dipped in sacred oil and he said a blessing over the tattoo and he blew on it. What I found really cool happened when he tattooed Pema and the the other women that came with us. In buddhism women aren't allowed to touch monks, which would a pose a problem if a lady wanted to receive one of these tattoos. When it was Pems turn she came to the pillow in front of the monk to which he placed another pillow between himself and her and he placed a glove on his left had (The one he touched the skin with). Why I find that so interesting, I don't know... just another part of the worlds culture, and I love to experience it.
Getting back from this little village was an adventure in itself... equally as fun. So we walked out of the temple area and along the road to a bus stop where we asked some of the locals if they knew how to get a taxi... then instructed us that we should wait where we were at for a bus that would come along, and sure enough it did. For 18 Baht we took this bus from where we were at to a main road where we could catch a cab back to bangkok. We picked up some boys who were in military school and a flock of teenage thai girls who would giggle at us American boys.
Today we're going to be heading to the weekend market which is an awesome thing that goes on... apparently world famous.
So many things have impressed me with Thailand... first off, they don't hate Americans, like say, western europe (for the most part). It's actually kind of neat... whenever we go into a little eatery the music almost immediately changes into something from the US... it's kind of cool, their culture is one of hospitality and it really shows. My thai is getting a lot better, so much so that I can operate on my own... which really rang true when I hailed a cab home last night when I was pretty inebriated.

Jet Lag

2007-09-20T11:11:00.000-07:00

It's a little after one in the morning here in Bangkok, which means it's it's 11 in the morning on thursday back at home. (seattle)
When I first came in last night it seemed that I was going to be just fine, no real effects from traveling 14 hours ahead in time. That wasn't the case today... Pema and I headed downtown, I picked up a cell phone for 1240 Thai Baht... which is around 40 dollars american... The malls here in thailand are crazy... they're pretty much all in one shopping plazas... and I don't mean cheap shit like walmart... in this one mall we were in you could pick up some slacks at Dolce & Gabana then head on over to the BMW dealership, in the same building (on the 3rd floor) to get a new M3... but it doesn't stop there... you can then head up another floor to work out at the gym then to the tip top floor to catch a movie then do a little bowling...
I love it here, I'm considering not even coming home... the language is kicking my ass though, I've managed to learn thank you... and I'm struggling with "excuse me"... can't really go far with that vocabulary, but crazier things have happened.
Oh I almost forgot... I've learned the word "forang" which is kind of slang for foriegner which people use to make fun of the tourists here, the people the receive the most mocking, are Americans... and I can really see why... they're horrible, you can seriously spot them a mile away.
Now, I do understand that I too am a forang but still, I've been told that I'm not bad at all, Pema was actually impressed with how fast I've picked up the Thai that I have already and my understanding of the culture. But I must say that Americans are by far the worst tourists ever! Loud, horribly dressed, if I see another fucking fanny pack I'm probably going to shoot someone.
I digress...
So after all of this running around downtown we started to get pretty tired... so we headed back to my hotel room, which is by far the coolest fucking room I've stayed at in my life, for a little nap... now we were supposed to wake back up and head out to meet up with some of pems friends at five to watch some thai boxing, well when I was down, I was out... I woke up around 11, and couldn't head back to sleep... so we layed around, watch some telly, and I went down to get some glorious chicken fried rice from a street vendor for 25 Baht, which is less than a fucking dollar Amercian... such good food, so much good food.
Well seeing as it's 1:30 now, I'm going to try to head off because we have to be up in four hours so we can meet up with some friends so we can head up to a temple so we can get some yant tattoo work done by a monk.
Talk at you kids later....

Greetings from around the world (1st actual vacation post)

2007-09-18T23:01:00.000-07:00

It just figures that certain things happen to me. Take for instance, my flight from Seattle to Tokyo... I had purchased First Class tickets with plenty of time before my departure date, I get to the counter today when checking in and I'm told that 1st class had been overbooked, lucky me... and United has this dandy section called economy plus, which is nicer than coach but not as nice as first... that ALSO booked, so I take my coach ticket and I walk my 6'5" ass onboard and into the cramped coach section of the plane.
"Okay, I can handle this, I've got some vicadin, and international flights give you free booze"
Enter screaming toddler that seems to not be calmed by ANYthing... of. fucking. course.
So we take off, I get my booze, I get my lunch, all is well, time for the lavatory... by the way did I mention that not only am I in coach, I'm not on the isle, I'm right next to the center of the plane, sitting next to an older woman that has to use the restroom every 5 minutes. A-W-E-S-O-M-E.
Nature calls me, so I proceed to the rear of my section and wait by the door because the door says that its occupied... now, me being the natural procastinator that I am, I waited right until the last moment, and any deterring my potty break wasn't going to cut it, now the door says occupied and I wait, another gentleman comes to wait with me, well... I wouldn't call myself a gentleman by any means, so I'll just say that a gentleman came and waited with me...
Almost a half hour goes by and we're still waiting, and I'm thinking that 1: I need an air sick bag cause I'm probably doing some serious damage to my innards right now, and 2: If I do ever make it in there, it's going to smell so bad... cause someone is taking their lavatory time very serious. Well, we hit some turbulance and the third fellow that was standing back there waiting with us kind of falls against the door and it opens, because it's not exactly locked and there isn't anyone in there... the last bastard that used the john doesn't understand that when it's empty it's a good idea for the fucking sign on the outside to be represented correctly...
Here I sit, in coach, my battery draining, so I can't watch anymore "it's always sunny in Philidelphia" and I can't find the lovely flight attentdants because I need another vodka sprite....
thanks for flying United.

On another note... I'm in the Narita airport in Tokyo which is how I'm posting this right now... I'm connected to a wireless network here and for some reason it's changed all of the links on my computer to japaneese... good thing I can read it right?
wait... I can't read japaneese.

Why the hell haven't I been watching the TV?

2007-09-18T11:13:00.000-07:00

So I'm doing a little shopping on iTunes for some viewing material for my 14 fucking hour trip across the world. I happen across a dandy little show called "It's always sunny in Philidelphia". Holy balls is all I have to say. I'm a big fan of the office, both the British version and the American, but god damn this show is funny... I've never heard of anyone in the cast with the exception of Danny DeVito and quite honestly he's not even the funniest character.
I'm glad that I don't actually have to watch TV anymore to catch this show, my the Lord bless Steve Jobs and his wonderful ideas, like having TV shows on iTunes and being able to subscribe to a show and it downloads right after it airs on the telly.

*Update*
Nothing new is really going on, Just leaving my old job for my new one, finishing up on my sleeve (tattoo) and I sit here in the Seattle International Airport waiting to board a plane headed for Tokyo then Thailand.
I plan on blogging my vacation by way of pictures.

My last American weekend

2007-09-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

So the time has now come, my last weekend in America before I take off for Thailand, then my eventual move to Naples, Italy. The weeks building up to the now have been so hectic and busy, and now that I'm this short... it feels oh so good to breath this sigh of relief.
Another great thing is how my boss has handled my last week of work. For example, I didn't even come in today, and I called in after I woke up a little late, talked to my boss who told me, "no one has even noticed that you're not here." That my friend is a great feeling. So I sit here on my deck, watching the sun burn through the overcast morning sky. All I have to do today is start packing, go get some more undershirts, and meet my work cohorts at this fine italian eatery, for a farewell soup and salad (and wine) lunch.
There has been a lot going on, but I'm entirely too lazy to type out some of my new stories right now... stay tuned my blogisphere friends, I've missed you.

Life

2007-08-30T07:47:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted in a while, and to my fellow blogging friends... I'm sorry.
Life has been busy...
Since my last post I've been busy preparing to move overseas to Italy, take a week of vacation to visit my niece for her first birthday, while on vacation, see all of the friends I don't on a normal basis before I move, which involved a lot of wake boarding, drinking, people getting into the trunks of two seater Mercedes', crashing a 1997 high school reunion, [my name tag read, "Hi my name is Art Vandalay"] taking a six hour trip on my ducati, [in one day] to which my "undercarriage" will never forgive me.
Now, I'm back at work, and I'm busy delegating my old duties and training the person that will be replacing me, while labor day weekend is here so naturally I won't be coming to work tomorrow or Tuesday, and I leave work the 6th.
Oh and I've been planning out my world tour of a vacation.
I've added a new stop, Bangkok, Thailand... so excited.

Be sure that when I do get the time for an actual post... it's going to be great.

2007-08-18T16:40:00.001-07:00

KEXP BBQ

2007-08-18T16:25:00.001-07:00

just a little taste of what's going on from backstage. the blakes opened up with a killer set and on now (pictured) are the cave singers. free beer and food with great music. god bless amerikuh.

The question of the moment...

2007-08-13T14:36:00.001-07:00

I usually would be leaving work in about 20 minutes, but today I have to stay until 5... that fact alone is kicking my ass, not to mention I was only lucky enough to get around 3 1/2 hours of sleep last night before my body decided to hop out of bed at 5. [Even when my alarm was set to sound off in 45 minutes]

So, I sit here, and our little cafeteria is closed, because they feel it's necessary to close up shop at 1 and go home abandoning all of us who actually work for a living and would have a reason for an appetite. I digress.
All I have is the junk food machine, and some spare change in my pocket equaling 40 cents... an amount of money that wouldn't even get you a shitty hand job in Malaysia.
My options from the machine are as follows:
1 packet of 6 Cheetos brand crackers and cheese

1 oatmeal cream pie

I know, I know, tough fucking decision, I'm not even really sure how I live my life.
The good thing about the crackers is that it's actual substance, my stomach might actually recognize the fact that I ate something.
The little debbie cream pie is made of pure sugar and that is pretty appealing to me right now because I happen to be one guy that's ready for hibernation, like yesterday.

So I've got about 2 hours and change before I get to even think about heading home... what to do, what to do...

I always had a feeling those guys that always carry cash were onto something.

Slogans at work.

2007-08-13T12:04:00.000-07:00

What a weekend it was!
But it's now Monday, so shut the fuck up and get to work!
Ugh.
Where I work consists of many different buildings and shops, and around these buildings and road in which we travel to get to the aforementioned buildings and shops, there are signs with nice great slogans posted on them. The talk about safety and your health. There are a few that do nothing for me, but there are a select few that make me chuckle a little on the inside, and we all need a ration of chuckling at work.
Aside from the mundane banners saying, "Stay heart smart" and "Safety is #1, Production #2", there are two slogans in particular that makes me laugh/scratch my head.
One of the signs reads, "Do your family a favor, [I can't help but think, automatically to say, 'Kill yourself' when in actuality it says...] work safe everyday."
The next sign is really the one the blog is about...
I work for a multi-billion dollar company, and there a lot of smart fucking people employed here, as well as some, not so smart people, with a pinch of fucking idiotic people mixed in [well, more than a pinch, but you get my drift].
There is a new program being instituted that will help us cut unnecessary costs when working on large projects and jobs. The move to this program has been going on for a while now and it's a slow and painful process as some of our funding is cut when we actually need it. So the people in charge of this program thought it a good idea to post these banners around the buildings to inspire us to forge ahead.
The banner reads

We cannot transform without change

You heard me correctly, many smart people walk under this sign daily, and it still hangs, making us all a little more stupid as we read it. The worst part about it is that people that in charge of committees to hang these stupid fucking signs are being awarded for a job well done, and for inspiring the work force to adopt this new program with new ferocity and all that happy horse shit.
While I ponder such a slogan I can't help but want to punch myself in the face... make myself to do anything, to take the hurt that my brain is feeling.
I love my job.

Reason #872 why I'm probably going to hell

2007-08-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

Due to the lack of anything interesting happening in my life lately, I'm going to keep with the spirit of reminiscing older funnier stories from my life.

I was raised wop catholic, so church was very dry and by the time I was in middle school, I really wasn't all that into it. I was, however, fascinated by those radical christian types that seemed to be everywhere in the town that I had moved to, to live with my mother. In Grants Pass, Oregon, you were either one of the "main stream" kids, an outsider kid that got into trouble, or you were one of the "God" kids. [In reality, there were a lot more cliques, but I'm not really down to get into them all]
My mom had just "gotten into" religion and she had become a Jesus "super fan", and because I was living in her house I was subjected to it all, the youth group at her church, the Sunday morning services and the church youth camps.
This church that my mother was now attending was the polar opposite from the perish that I'd been raised in. The most activity you get in a Catholic church service is standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, standing, walking up to take communion. It's not the same in an Assemblies of God church. They "speak" in tongues, which in my opinion is a crock of shit, they dance around, waving their arms in the air... they're into it.
Frankly, it all really creeped me the fuck out.
So our youth group went on an outing to Redding, California to some water park, and apparently we weren't the only youth group that would be going, I guess it's some tradition for all the churches in our area and theirs to load up their Jesus loving youths and throw them down water slides. Seeing as my mother was now an active and respected woman in the church it would look bad if her children didn't go... so I packed on the bus at 6 in the fucking morning on a Saturday ready to make the four and a half hour trip to northern California.
The trip was long and wasn't that boring as I did have some friends that were there that happened to be in the same predicament that I was.
We arrived at the park on time and on loaded promptly being sorted into groups so our chaperone's could take a muster. To say that there were a lot of church youth groups there would be an understatement. It seemed like every fucking church in Northern California and Southern Oregon had made the trip to Redding.
We were off, swimming and playing, mingling with other kids... some talked about Jesus and his love, and I held back to puke that was trying to come up.
Lunchtime arrives and I'm starving, [like I always am, nothing much has changed] so my cronies and I find a spot in the sun and breakout our lunchables and other kiddie lunchtime, field trip snacks.
Now, as I'm sure a lot of you are probably aware then when the sun in baking down on concrete at 110 degrees it gets a little fucking warm, so my choice to park my ass on the ground was pretty short lived. Next to us, there was an empty wheelchair, who it belonged to, I had no clue, but I saw my opportunity to ease the pain from the burning ground.
Up that point in my life, I don't recall I had ever sat in a wheelchair, so naturally, I was pumped. I didn't just use this fantastic device as a seat... no. I started wheeling around our little chosen eating area when I noticed that I had grabbed the attention of a flock of cute, God fearing, high school girls sitting near by. I basked in the glorious sympathy that I started to receive from the group.
"Awww, can you not use your legs?", "Look at the joy you have even though you can't walk.", "Bless your heart."
I ate it up... completely and whole heartily. "I was born this way, but I have faith God will heal me."
In every situation there is a line, and you're not supposed to cross it. I'm very familiar with this line, as I've crossed it plenty, and this situation was no different from the rest.
My friends were eavesdropping on the entire conversation and they came over to join me and my newly acquired hot older girlfriends. I thought I was busted for sure, fucking cock blockers... but this isn't where the story ends my dear reader friends, oh no.
"We pray for him constantly our church believes he will be healed on day."
They were eating right from our hands...
One of the girls piped up, "Why don't we pray for him right now? Lay hands on him?"
"That, is an excellent idea!" My friends were barely holding back laughter... bless their hearts.
So we did, and they did... Placing their hands on my legs, one of the girls lead off in prayer, and another cut her off exhaling a bunch of nonsense also known as "tongues".

And we've come to it... that line... I see it, and I jump right the fuck over

I start shaking... jumping around in my wheelchair... in almost an epileptic fit. I push the wheelchair back a little bit and kick my head back. With my hands I move my feet onto the ground. I look at the group sporting the biggest look of amazement, I remember trying to look "holy" and "touched by God". The girls mouths were agape, my friends... trying not to die of laughter to give away my spot on performance.
I raise up on my hands, knees wobbling, until I place all my weight on the support of my legs... I take a step, legs shaking, another step, another until I almost reach the group.
"Praise the Lord!", they shout, jumping up to embrace me, my friends of course join them, tears in their eyes from laughter.
"I knew he'd heal me. I knew I should have faith!"
I was there, what a performance, unfortunately it was so much of a performance I'd gathered quite an audience, including the youth pastor from our church, who obviously knew that I wasn't paralyzed from birth.
At the peak of excitement and embracing the high school beauty my arm was firmly grasped, and yanked.
I had single handily made a mockery of the church and I had ruined the faith of those girls, or so I was told as I was drug from the scene to our church bus.
If I had a dollar for every dirty look I received on that bus heading back home Bill Gates would be below me on the list of "the richest people in America". Right when we got back to the church parking lot I was met by my mother and the main pastor. They had been called while we were headed back to be informed of the atrocity I had performed.
Lecture after lecture that night, I hadn't even had time to change from my damp swimming shorts.
To prove to the church that I really wasn't the spawn of Satan looking only to mock God and everything the church stood for, my mother signed me up for choir and youth group leadership over the next summer; let me tell you how much fun I had with that.
Eventually everyone got over it, but when I go back to visit my mother in Grants Pass it gets brought up every now and again, and everyone laughs at my stupid, childish actions... everyone but my mother that is.

Party like a Cuban rock star.

2007-08-08T09:20:00.000-07:00

So last night some really good friends of mine helped me move some shit into storage. [For my moving to Italy] Me, being the grateful person that I was, took them to a great brewery called silver city. We consumed some amazing pizza and this stuff called "Fred" which is a combination of their strong scotch ale "fat" 9.2%abv and their amber "ridge top red" 6%abv... so good.
Two pitchers later, we decided to head over to Heads up Brewery for this tasty beer called kwack 8%abv.
It was then decided that we'd head to my friend Jackie's house [pictured above] to play the Scarface drinking game.
The rules...
You drink anytime anyone in the movie says the word, "fuck".

The picture above is Jackie a half an hour into the movie after something close to 80 "fuck"s and drinks of beer.
Fucking rock star... [That’s a drink]

There is no nation, like urination

2007-08-08T08:09:00.000-07:00

So killer was talking [read: blogging] about accidents while micturating.
So I thought I'd share my little episode in a little place called Virginia Beach, VA. Now, I wouldn't call this event so much of an accident than I would call it dumb fucking luck, oh, and inebriation.
I was on paid vacation in VA beach during the summer, which is where all the college kids from VT and West Virginia come to party.
Outside of New York I haven't really witnessed [on the east coast] a whole lot of what you'd call "attractive women", and VA Beach was no exception to this. With that in mind, my work friends and I decided that we were going to go out and get fucked up. I put emphasis on that because, when a group of guys go out [at least our group of guys] drinking it's decided first if there will be any mingling with the opposite sex, or just mingling with the bartender and our tasty alcoholic beverages. Seeing as the majority of women we saw out and about looked pretty much like a bucket of yuck, we chose the latter.
Setting us up proper for the night it was decided to start drinking promptly at 9:30am... it was some much needed vacation for all of us.
Fast forward to about 45 minutes after midnight. The boys and I are meandering along the sidewalk to our next location, when I decide that I need to pee... now.
I'm a pretty stubborn ass Italian man, and when I'm drunk, it only gets worse; so when I decided that I had to piss right then and there, it would take everything in anyone's power to convince me otherwise.
"Next alley, I'm going"
My friends were either too drunk to care, or they just cared to watch me piss all over myself, as I was having a hard time standing up straight without the ground trying to move out from underneath my feet. Well, much to my own credit, I did not piss on myself... fuck them.
So I'm in the alley, and I'm peeing and life is great [now] my friends are cutting up making jokes and my smart ass self is firing right back at them, until they got quiet... like eerily, ghost town quiet.
I heard clicking, being very anti-sober at that point it took me a while to realize what the fuck that noise was... which was a while. That moment of realization finally came when I felt the warm glow of a flashlight hit my face. A fucking bike cop.
"You care to explain to me what you're doing out here sir?"
"You see, Mr. officer, my friends and I, the good chaps that they are, were heading over to the next bar and I had to use the facilities like nobodies business. The line to get in next door was too long, [which was a lie] and me, being safety conscious decided to use the alley because of the impending damage to my bladder."
See that's what I heard myself say.
The police officer heard:
"Yuuu ahhsssifff, fends - meh, fuuuckkkin' phissh, blaphher buur neh - nesch duammag"
Cue my first ever field sobriety test.
I'm not sure how the hell I didn't go to jail that night, I guess it was my charm, [right] or maybe it was the fact that he thought was going to get some from one of my female coworkers that came through for me, flirting her ass off to pretty much save mine.
Just so you know, a public intoxication ticket in Virginia Beach will cost you about 120 bucks and a ticket for urinating in public will be about 97.
What made the whole situation shitty [er], was the fact that I got caught watering the outside wall of the next bar that we were going to, the bar that I deemed "too far" to make it to, before I exploded with urine. While I was caught hiding in an alley trying to conceal my public urination, two friends of mine where out on the street not caring to hide the fact that they were pissing on the street; under a fucking streetlight.
Let's recap...
I'm in a dark alley peeing and I get caught, fined and lost a little of my "buzz".
My friends are out along the street peeing under a streetlight and no one says shit to them.
Fuck that place.
When I went back for court and to pay the fine I was halfway tempted to return to that bar and commit the same crime in spite, but I figured that, with my luck the outcome wouldn't be that much different and this time didn't have a hot coworker to flirt with my arresting officer to keep me out of the drunk tank.
This is why I don't look down on women who use cleavage to get what they want.

The Plan...

2007-08-02T12:56:00.001-07:00

Alright folks... my vacation has been planned. [at least in my mind]

I peace the fuck out from work on the 6th of September, and after about 3 days of drinking heavily with good friends in Seattle, I'm getting on a plane for New York Shitty...
My plan [as of right now] is the be there for about a week, so all you New York blogger types need to shout out some recommendations where I can go for a tasty beer, or a well made grey goose-hound.
I'm London bound the 14th from NY and there I'll be getting in some good futbol and bangers and mash with some college/futbol buddies.
The 18th I'll get on the Eurail headed for France where I'll meet more friends, then, train to Spain, train to Italy, train to Budapest, and finally train to Greece where I'll be meeting up with a good friend of mine that will be visiting the Grecian Islands.
My journey is going to have to end on the 4th of October when I board a plane in Athens and arrive in Seattle about 18 to 21 hours later.
My long flights I've booked as first class cause there's no way in hell I'm going to be sitting next to some over weight mother fucker, or some annoying ass child who's looking for a 18 hour hide and go seek/tantrum marathon.
I'm totally stoked for my quarter life crisis adventure, as I should be... plus, I'm looking forward to meeting new faces.

**I'm counting on you New Yorkers to give a shout out, I need good places to get my lips wet...
dmbmeg, you need to tell me about that private karaoke bar... I'm down with screaming out some 80's tunes, getting drunk and making bad decisions

peas...
CJ

Where the fuck am I going to go?

2007-08-01T08:40:00.000-07:00

I ask you my dear friends out in blogger-land.
I leave Seattle on the 6th of September for some much needed vacation. I'm heading to Naples, Italy for work and I have to be there on the 11th of October... I know what you're thinking, that's an ass whack of time in between; this, I know. I was thinking of going to Las Vegas for a couple of days... but the whole thing about it is... I'm not about to go by my lonesome... because that would be about as fun as watching wine age. I know plenty of people in New York and I'd love to hang out in the Upper West Side for a few weeks, plus I could attend one of those blogger get togethers that we don't have here in Seattle... {Fuckin' A].
Shoot me some suggestions dear blogger friends of mine...

Love you - Mean it.

Drinking antics

2007-07-31T09:53:00.001-07:00

This is what happens when my friends and I get together, drink some beer at the toadhouse and someone orders the "sausage platter".

The shot heard around the world.

2007-07-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, as typical of every Saturday, I was drinking with my friends.
It must be said that when I talk about, "drinking with my friends", I'm not talking about some guys a six pack, and in bed at 2. I'm talking about floating kegs, shots of apple pie [our special creation], a whole ass whack of people and sitting on the roof watching the sun come up.
A good friend of mine, DJ and I are what you'd call a bad ass team at a little drinking game called "beer pong". [maybe I haven't fully let college go, who the fuck cares]
Beer pong is a fucking stupid game, but I love it all the same. The only thing you really need to be good at, is drinking a lot of shitty domestic beer. Thanks to all of my micro brew consumption, I can handle some pussy ass, 5 or 6% beer.
The table's been out for a while and DJ and I are on our second straight game. Now, to say that we were whooping ass would be an understatement, in doubles the tabled is "racked" with six cups in front of each player, and for those of you that can't count... each team has 12 cups to shoot at, for a total of 24 cups on the table.
Moving on...
DJ and I have 11 cups, and our opposition has 4; they're getting their asses handed to them. One aspect of the game which is crucial is the shit talking... heckling if you will. Me being the quick witted, sarcastic asshole that I am, I love this part of the game... especially when the crowd interjects. This is where our epic tale begins...
Trash talking crosses the table as much as the ping pong balls do, and at this point of the game it seems to be coming more from our opponents peanut gallery than their own mouths... granted they were losing... horribly I might add.
So we're up to shoot, and some wise ass tries to distract me with a lame attempt at verbal abuse...
my response: "Okay shit dick, next shot... off your face."
Time to fucking throw down...
The roar of the garage went fucking silent... when people say you could hear a pin-drop... yeah, that's noisy compared to the silence in this garage.
The shot...
perfect arc...
off the kids face...
bounce on the table...
The room was paralyzed watching what was happening, the world was actually moving in slow motion, I'm not saying that because I was drunk, I'm saying that because it was fucking true... the sound of the ball hitting the table was about as loud as if someone had shot a gun in the room.
Perfect arc after the bounce...
CUP!
I've been apart and seen a lot of cool shit happen where cheering was involved, but this topped them all...
The room exploded in cheers, high fives and what have you... yes, I realize that I cheered the hardest in my life over a drinking game... but you have to understand... there's nothing more rewarding when your body cashes that proverbial check that your mouth has written.
I was the babe ruth of beer pong in that moment...
I called my shot.
Just don't call me the bambino.

Nice try Friday, Monday has my back.

2007-07-30T09:56:00.001-07:00

So Friday put me in a pretty bad mood, at least until I got off of work. After that, I picked up my new toy... I don't care who you are, that's fucking sexy and I spent the weekend drinking with my friends and riding the new bike. [By the way, if I were a motorcycle, I'd make sweet motorcycle love to that fine piece of Italian machinery]

So, in the shadow that was cast from Friday, I returned to work today, not really looking forward to what the fuck is going on... and then my phone rang.
The readers digest of that phone call is this:
"Yeah, you can pretty much tell Friday to suck a dick."
So everything I'd been so blissfully planning is still on... and when I say it's on... I mean like WWF spandex wrestling for the championship belt title thingy... "It's fucking ON!"
Italy... large amounts of money... sailing around the world... while getting paid... hell yes bitch.
There's that whole pretty boy saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade..."
Yeah I got lemons... then I traded them in for some limes, which I put into my vodka tonic... fuck you lemons... fuck you Friday.
It's Monday now bitch... whole new ballpark.

Fuck Today...

2007-07-27T12:09:00.000-07:00

You ever have one of those radical days... you wake up, life just folds into position. You know the days I'm talking about... when you're showering up, pissed off because you think you forgot to throw in laundry last night, so you're either going to wear your pants bare-nut or turn some of those hanes inside-out; but to your surprise, you walk into the laundry room to find that there's a fresh pile of clean laundry... and new underpants... fuckin' A. [I don't normally call them underpants... it's all for effect]
Well, today started out like that for me... fucking perfect. Didn't have to rush to work because I inadvertently slept for 15 extra minutes, ate some tasty breakfast. Blared some good tunes in my car whilst cruising to my job.
Then, while all the doves where flying around in my universe of peace and joy... one took a huge shit on my face... while I was looking up at them... with my mouth open.

While my life was harmoneously coasting along, today I hit the biggest fucking cosmic pothole.
Fuck whatever "powers that be".
Fuck today...

Volume III has arrived.

2007-07-26T11:57:00.000-07:00

Here in Seattle there is a terrific radio station of which I'm proudly a member of. When it comes to my personal music tastes, they are more wide and diverse than anyone that I know. Example: after uploading my newly arrived CD to my iTunes last night, I now have 22,873 songs.
This radio station is great if you're a person who has deep love for good music.
Less promoting, more blogging.
KEXP receives it's funding from its members, they don't get it from corporate sponsorships meaning they can play/do whatever the fuck they want. During this last membership drive, I renewed my membership at the $500 level, and got some handsome "thank you" gifts. Yesterday one of my gifts arrived in the mail. The radio station hosts a lot of in studio performances from great bands from all over. Every year they compile some of the best onto one CD and a limited edition vinyl. [not an easy task I assure you].
So my CD came yesterday as I had stated... and holy fucking crap, it's great.
Here's a list of tracks from the CD:

1. The Long Winters Pushover
2. The Shins Australia
3. Frank Black [Do what you want] Gyaneshwar
4. Ghostland Observatory Move with your lover
5. Lady Sovereign Public Warning
6. The English Beat Hands off she's mine
7. Grizzly Bear Knife
8. Cloud Cult Mr. Tambourine Man
9. Beirut Elephant Gun
10. Under Byen Den Her Sang Handler Om at Fa Det Bedste Ud Af Det
11. The Black Angels The Prodigal Son
12. The Gossip Yr Mangled Heart
13. The Shackeltons Your Movement
14. Peter Bjorn and John Young Folks
15. Hot Chip And I Was a Boy From School
16. Fujiya and Miyagi Collarbone
17. Billy Bragg Waiting for the Great Leap Forwards

Such a great album. They promote such great music it's awesome. For those of you that live in the Seattle area you can kind them at 90.3 FM... if you don't, no need to worry, you can stream live radio over the Internet from their website.
If you love music, you should check these guys out. You can sign up for daily podcasts, on iTunes, windows media and rhapsody. There's the KEXP song of the day, music that matters, and much more, best of all... it's all free, who's going to turn down free music? Especially when it's not your "mainstream" top 40 bullshit...

I realize that this was pretty shameless promoting, but I don't give a fuck... I'm in no way affiliated with KEXP and I receive no benefit from people listening, I just try to spread the word in good music.

CJ's July Blog Crushes

2007-07-26T11:22:00.000-07:00

I've been doing this whole blog thing for a little while now, and I've been reading a whole ass whack of great stuff. While there is a lot to choose from in the blogishpere for reading material, it seems that I'm drawn back to a handful of blogs on a daily basis.
I've compiled my Blog "Crush" list for this month... not saying that I'm going to have a different list every month, I've just decided to call it my July blog crush list because, well, because it's July... and it's my blog... I'm an adult, I'll do what I want.
I digress.

It took me a while to determine if I should just display the list, claiming no particular order... but that's bullshit, cause there always needs to be a pecking order.
So, in order from top to bottom... my blog crushes for July 2007.

dmbmeg: I'd say I read the majority of what she writes and I then have to force myself to keep my laughter down... and I also appreciate all people that think like I do.

Steph: Her and I will most likely be hanging out in hell together, and that brings a certain bloggish attraction. Also, she's Australian, and accents are hot... plain and simple.

The Cynical Girl: She's witty, smart... all that good shit that makes her a great blogger... also, she was the first to include me on her blog roll... so basically, she stole me heart. [Yeah, I'm that easy.]

Brooklyn Gal: She's got that New York sass, and I can't help but read all the stuff she puts out on her site. Maybe I just have an affinity for New York women... heh.

CB: CB reminds me of a great friend of mine here in Seattle. So I've got kind of a personal draw to her blog... as it almost always seems like I'm hearing from my pal Jen. Then I realize that CB is in New York.

So, three out of four just happen to be in New York... Pacific Northwest women need to step the fuck up.
Well done ladies, not sure what for, cause I'm just another joe-shmo reader... but whatever...
Keep writing, cause I'll keep reading.

wurd
CJ

There really isn't that much of a difference.

2007-07-25T10:06:00.000-07:00

In the world we live in these days, our media is littered with celebrity scandal and bullshit gossip.
Paris Hilton goes to jail.
Paris Hilton is out of jail.
Paris Hilton goes back to jail.
Lindsay Lohan arrested for DUI.
Lohan goes to rehab.
Lindsay is out of rehab.
Lindsay Lohan arrested for DUI, cops find cocaine in her pocket.
It's fucking re-dunkulous.
Until now, that kind of paparazzi crap was reserved for the gossip lips of women. A guy could enter "guy world" and escape all the celebrity scandal and just enjoy life as a guy.
Those days have come to an end.
While I was at my friends Sean's house yesterday, we were playing some pool in his bar(n) while watching sports center. Now, the reason for watching ESPN, other than to watch a game is quite simple, game highlights.
Well, that wasn't the case yesterday. In the two hours that we played pool we didn't get one highlight, game recap, or team match-up. All they talked about was scandal; the ref in the NBA, who is accused of fixing games, the whole Micheal Vick, dog fighting thing, and the bullshit between the Bud Selig [the commissioner of baseball] and Barry Bonds.
They talked about that all afternoon long, they interviewed old officials, and other athletes, then they'd bring in special analysts that would bring up speculation, and they'd show press conferences from the commissioners, then they'd analyze that, then ask more sports casters what they thought... two fucking hours... no sports, just sports scandal gossip... fucking girl talk.
I turn on sports center to I can follow what's going on in baseball, so I can confirm, yep, the mariners suck... and, I wonder who is actually going to make it to October.
Not anymore, now we get nancy boy sports casters talking about everything else but actual sports. Stop beating around the bush, taking about sports related things, but not actual sports. Stop fucking with my emotions. Move on, move the fuck on.
In my opinion this whole, sports gossip charade isn't much different than people going on and on about if Paris will turn her life around, and Lohan and her pathetic excuse for a life.
These new anchors on ESPN should just give up the act and go join Joel McHale on talk soup you're all broadcasting the same kind of shit.
It's sports center... not gossip girl talk center. Cover sports, throw in some sports related shit I guess, but cover some fucking sports.

Popcorn, you tempting bitch.

2007-07-25T09:53:00.000-07:00

A lot of people talk about what they'd ask God, given the chance to meet him. Some of the questions are profound, some are spiritual... my question?
Why the fuck does popcorn smell better than it tastes?
Yes, I realize that I'd be swearing at God, but that is how strongly I feel on this issue.
I hate that shit... you smell the tasty, buttery goodness, popping away in a near-by microwave, you tear open the flaming hot bag, throwing handfuls of exploded kernels down your hatch... and... nothing... no buttery goodness, just empty taste.
What the fuck!
It's like getting blue balls from your junior high girlfriend, whom will only let you feel her up on the outside of her shirt. Give me something to work with here!
Popcorn is the biggest [food] let down known to man. It really satisfies nothing, it creates a thirst deep inside that you'd only have if you were wondering across Death Valley California in mid-July, it doesn't deliver when you want something tasty and satisfying, and then there's the whole issue with peices getting stuck in your mouth. Forcing you to tongue the roof of your mouth for about 45 minutes.
Additionally, popcorn really not even filling, which can be good and bad. Take, for instance, when I, about a week ago, went and saw transformers with Pema. Because we were starving, we stopped by Lola for a quick bite. While the food at lola was good, it didn't cure our hunger, and due to time constraints we headed back to make the movie.
Before we took our seats at the theatre, we opted to get some popcorn for the movie, seeing as we were still hungry and thought it'd suffice until we could grab some real food after the show. Bad choice. Eating that much popcorn made our stomachs hurt so much... why, who knows... I just know that it's just another reason that I dislike popcorn.
Now, as much as I hate that fucking little kernel, I still eat it... why? Because of that smell, that tempting, tasty smell.
No matter how I feel about popcorn, when I catch a sniff of that shit pooping my stomach takes over my brain activity and I decide, "Sure, why not, I could go for some popcorn, it does smell dandy." [who really says, 'dandy' anymore these days?] When I finally get to eating my newly acquired popcorn, the realization sets in once again.
Fuck! You got me again popcorn.
Smells so good, tastes so plain. I'm a victim of fraud yet again, to which I keep subjecting myself and most likel will for the rest of my life.
Why can't I just take a stand and say no? Well, because I'm a guy, a guy that's hungry all the time, and I lack the willpower to say no to my stomach sometimes. This is who I am.
Someone could be boiling chicken heads, and if it smells good, there I'd be, holding my ladle, ready for a sample.
So, I will consume more popcorn in this career I've got being me, and I undoubtedly will be disappointed, this I know... but it won't stop me at the time, I will be weak under it's spell of tasty aroma.
As for right now, I can stand, nostrils clear of any devious temptation and tell some popcorn off; I can resist. I will not succumb to any of its trickery.
Fuck that, and fuck you... popcorn!

Foot faux paus.

2007-07-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

I'm a person that loves to observe other people... it makes my life even more enjoyable when I see people dressed horrificly.
I remember when I was back in highschool, we made a simple, beta website and we'd post pictures of mullets we'd see out and about.
A lady that I work with named Amanda sent me this link and it's heaven. I need to carry my camera more often so I can snap some good candid photos to send to the site.
First I'll start with the guy that works in our office. I'm guessing he's what inspired Amanda to send me the site.

Comfort in Currency

2007-07-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

You know, I was looking at some change in my pocket today, [I know, busy day at work!] and I realized that I really enjoy the new nickel over the old nickel and all of the other coins.
Why?
Well, it's simple.
In today’s cold and callus world, people are often impersonal and rude. The new nickel changes all that, bringing warmth and comfort to all of us living out our everyday.
The other coined presidents don't offer up anything personal to Americans. They stare off to either the left of right, cold and pompous. Yeah, they used to be presidents, why should they care about us?
Well not Jefferson, not anymore.
Now Jefferson's up close, looking right at us, right into our souls. He offers sympathy with his eyes, they let me know that, "Hey, it's going to be alright" and while our lives might be crashing down around us, Tom is there, letting me know that we really shouldn't worry, he made it through so much, why can't we?
While the nickel's monetary value might only be five cents, it's now worth so much more than that.
We now have a connection with one our forefathers; we can look at that nickel and know that T.J. is looking out for all of us... from our empty, unused ashtrays.

Not as bad as I thought...

2007-07-23T11:07:00.000-07:00

This Saturday I saw the movie "Chuck & Larry".
Now, before you stop reading this post I'm going to say that I was pleasantly surprised by it. Not because they pulled a really funny movie out of the whole thing, but because it wasn't as offensive as I had thought it was going to be.
I'm a person that is pretty liberal minded. I'm a person that supports human rights and I think highly believe in homosexual couples having the same rights as straight ones.
I digress.
To summarize the movie, Chuck [Adam Sandler] and Larry [Kevin James] are NYC firefighters who are best friends. Chuck is Brooklyn’s top fireman and is a playboy to say the least. Larry is a single dad struggling to take care of his children while he still tries to get over the death of his wife that occurred three years ago.
The movie kicks right off as Larry saves the life of Chuck while they are doing a second inspection of a burned out building. What makes this event significant is the fact that Larry has expressed concern with the dangers of his job and the well being of his children if he were to pass away, because he change them as the prime beneficiaries on his pension because of some flaw in the NY city system.
Larry announces to Chuck as they're leaving the hospital that he has to quit being a fireman because he doesn't want to risk the future of his children. At the end of his rope of figuring out what to do, he [Larry] sees in a newspaper that NY State recognizes all benefits in domestic partnerships. Larry propositions this idea to Chuck [at 4:30 am] because Chuck owes him for saving his life, and Larry doesn't want to quit being a fireman. [His father was one and his father's father was one etc etc]
Eventually they agree and go through the motions as far as paperwork and etc.
The problem for the plot of the movie is when they come under investigation by the state for fraud, and they have to hire a lawyer named Alex. [Jessica Biel]
What surprised me about this movie is the position they took on the homosexual community. From the reviews and trailers of the movie, it looked as if the filmmakers were looking to poke fun at being gay and everything that stood with living that lifestyle.
When Chuck and Larry starting living as a domestic couple it was kind of insulting, but it was being the characters didn't understand that lifestyle. That soon changed in the movie, when Alex invites them to a party. It turns out to be a pride party and at first the two of them are made extremely uncomfortable by the situation. Things change when they're leaving as the party has concluded. The crowd is met outside by a pack of religious people holding signs and calling them abominations and other things. Chuck and Larry can see that as these people call the crowd names that is visually effects some of these people, and this is when the characters live out the discrimination they didn't understand before.
It hits home when the firehouse finds out, and the men they work with, who were close friends before stop treating them as they had before. What I liked about this is that it showed each side of the human rights battle to a degree. You have the people that are narrow minded and closed off to anything different than the mainstream idea, and the person that had been just as close-minded as they had, and was now living in the limelight of discrimination. "Chuck and Larry" [the movie] does well to open the eyes of middle America with this movie. It highlights on the point that just because a person has a different sexual orientation it makes them less of a person, or of a man, as was the point in the movie.
A petition was sent around the firehouse and the agreed that they wanted Chuck and Larry transferred from the station house. A great monologue was presented by Larry to all of the firefighters in the station house. As it was, Chuck was a very skilled firefighter and had bailed a lot of the other guys out, either when it came to being in fires, or loaning money to people pay off gambling debts so they wouldn't lose their wife. "He may be a 'faggot' but his money's still good right?" It was really powerful [while remaining kind of funny] to emphasize the point that a person isn't defined by who they like, [male or female] but by who they actually are as people.
Near the end of the movie the fellow firefighters came around and offered up an apology admitting that they had been narrow-minded and foolish about the whole thing.
While this movie was only mildly funny, it made a great effort to prove many points that were pro-human rights.
I like how they made the point to prove that because a man in gay, he must then be attracted to all men, as was the worry of the other firefighters, and that living a homosexual lifestyle wasn't wrong or bad, just because it's different doesn't mean it is wrong.
In the beginning of the movie we meet Larry's children, his daughter who likes the Mets just like her dad. His son doesn’t like baseball and Larry doesn't think that's "natural". Near the end of the movie Chuck had been teaching Larry's son how to tap dance in preparations for his audition for a musical. The boy has one last practice inside the house in front of everyone and you can note the obvious change in the characters, when before this would've disturbed Larry, it now makes him trilled and excited for his son, that he found something he's really good at. "My son is awesome!" he exclaims which really proves the different mindset he's taken.
Overall, I'd say to just wait for it to come out on DVD, save your money to see a different one in the theatre, but don't pass it off as a gay-bashing flick.
Happy Madison Productions did a fine job bringing a different light to a huge discrimination issue we have today.
The only downside to it all is that the majority of people that will see this movie are those who are typically narrow-minded suburbanites. The reason is that the trailers depict the movie to look as a typical Adam Sandler film, crass, and poking fun at the gay community.
It's great that the movie did better than I thought it would in that aspect, but it's too bad that it was made for a demographic that will dismiss the points it [the movie] is trying to make.

Weekend update and another reason why I'm going to hell.

2007-07-23T08:08:00.000-07:00

Friday night the great band Chromeo was in town at the war room and Pema and I were all set about going to the show. With the doors set to open at nine, we planned on showing up around ten. We sat in a coffee shop up in the U-District playing best two out of three chess, when our best of tourney was cut short due to the shop closing leaving the score CJ: 1 Pema: 1.
Because of the early termination of the game we arrived at the war room earlier than planned... nine thirty. The line was around the block... seeing as we weren't thrilled about going to the war room because of it's tendency to be overpriced and overcrowded, we opted to head to a friends party up in greenlake.
We stopped by QFC to get a bottle of inexpensive syrah for the gathering as it was advised we should grab wine because of the kind of parties that these guys host. So we arrived at the party noticing right away that this wasn't the typical gathering as it looking like it was more of a blowout than anything else. We went in, Red Bicyclette in hand, to a packed/trashed house and made out way to the kitchen to find at least one of the residents to say hello. After about an hour of standing outside chatting with some folks, we decided it was about time to have some of the wine we brought. 30 minutes later, after we located a corkscrew we were without any sort of holding container glass, plastic, Styrofoam or otherwise. [I was set to just consume it right from the bottle, but Pema wasn't having that.] Pema finally found something clean to use; two empty jars. I wasn't picky; I was fully prepared to drink the wine straight from its bottle. So she pours, and we drink... and my wine is nasty, and I've never had bad wine from this label. I knew that it wasn't corked because the winery that bottles this stuff uses synthetic corks. Pema says that hers isn't nasty, so I have her try mine to see if it's just me. She agrees that my wine tastes severely different than hers. Investigating a little more I turn my jar to read the label: "Pickled Red Cabbage". Fucking nasty.

Saturday I hung out with some friends of mine who live in Kitsap County. It started out, just four guys sitting around shooting the shit and turned into a full-blown party. People just started filtering into Jackie, Diego and John's house turning the quiet residence into a noisy, beer pong tournament hall.
Now, I'm a pretty laid back guy, and I don't typically have a problem with anyone, but I draw the line with annoying, loud drunk girls that perceive that because you're in the same location as they are, you really want to listen to their drivel. I walk into the kitchen where this girl is sitting and I overhear her going on about how she'll take any shot that is placed in front of her. Taking her up on her offer, a guy pours a shot from a bottle of ever clear that is sitting on the counter. The only reason we have ever clear is because we make this tasty stuff called apple pie that actually tastes like... apple pie; but, it's only smart to take about 2 to 3 shots or it'll knock you on your ass before you know it. It was left out because we didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to take a shot of the stuff... I guess we were wrong, weren't we?
So, this girl sits with a shot of ever clear in front of her, and she states that, while she said she'd take any shot, she wasn't about to take it alone, and wouldn't you know it... no one stood up to take it with her. [Not even the kid that poured the shot.
Now, have I mentioned how much of an asshole I am? Yeah, well, here's just another example of asshole CJ taking advantage of a wide-open opportunity. I step forward, "I'll do the shot with ya, kid."
I grab an empty shot glass, and the bottle of ever clear and step to another part of the counter with my back to her. Bottle opened I act as if I'm pouring a healthy serving into my shot glass, because what I'm actually doing is filling it with water from the tap. I turn back to the inebriated girl who didn't see what I was doing, I slam the cap back onto the bottle raise the shot to clink it with hers and toss its contents down my throat. I stare at her, unflinching well she spasms and twitches having just ingested much more alcohol than her 110lb frame could handle, which would prove true about an hour later. Some in the kitchen saw what I actually did, and they laughed, calling me an asshole, but also admitting that the girl deserved it for agreeing to take that shot anyway, and for being so drunk to be unaware of what happened. The others who thought I took the shot were amazed that I downed it unphased.
This girl shouldn't have had what she had to drink before her shot, and she shouldn't have kept drinking after. While she fell all over herself navigating the house she managed to spill beer all over the kitchen counter and floor; that, in combination with her hindered sense of balance led to her eventual demise. She slipped, and when I say, "slipped" I don't mean that kind of thing when you almost topple over and catch yourself with your lightning quick reflexes. I mean she Hollywood slipped; feet up in the air, horizontal with the ground, straight up and straight down; slipped. On the way down, she busted her chin on the counter and bit her tongue. Her boyfriend eventually took her upstairs and she passed out in some bed.
My good friend DJ and I hoped on the beer pong table ready to do some damage, and that we did; unfortunately for us, even though we won five or six games straight, in beer pong you never really win, because you play again, and you drink more, you don't get a break between games. So while we were on our final game, I turn to DJ, who is as sober as I am, which isn't very.
"We need to lose"
Lose we did, and I ended up cuddling with a beanbag and watched Gremlins and woke up cuddled up with the same beanbag, and a different movie on the telly.
All in all... good weekend, I drank red cabbage syrah, kicked ass at beer pong, got my ass kicked by beer pong, and watched a girl smash her face into a counter, thanks to some asshole who did a shot of ever clear with her.

Motorcycle diaries

2007-07-20T13:17:00.000-07:00

So I decided, and a motorcycle is what I need/want.
I deemed it proper as I've concluded that I'm entering my quarter-life crisis, and I need something to fill that void, and I'm not much for convertibles.
I received all the feedback that I thought I would from my friends. The guys stating that it's a bad ass idea, as most of them have motorcycles themselves, and the girls... well the girls think that the are hot. [Why is that? Bad boy image? What?]
I had mentioned this to my sister in everyday conversation and I should've known what was about to happen. See, my family is Italian, and when I say that I don't mean that we like to eat at the olive garden every once in a while. I mean we're, big nosed, olive skinned, carbs and wine for every meal of the day, passionate about everything, catholic as all get out, all up in each others business; Italian.
The first response that I received from my family, other than my sister, was via email from my mom that was sent to my phone. She told me to be careful with myself [naturally] and asked what kind of bike I planned on getting. I responded assuring her that my safety was nothing to worry about and I am purchasing a Ducati Monster 695 [see picture above].
She responded with some pros and cons of purchasing a Ducati, and that all in all they're nice bikes.
Then I received a phone call from my father.

DAD:"Are you trying to give me a heart attack son?"
ME:"What? No! Dad come on..."
DAD:"No come on... was it something I did to you? Was I a bad father? Are you punishing me? You're trying to make me suffer in my old age aren't you?"
ME:"That's what it is completely father... I'm trying to torture you."
DAD:"I knew it! Make sure you have your will written up and everything. I'll be sure to change mine so that Baylee gets your inheritance"
ME:"Please dad, I'll be careful... I have death wish."
DAD:"Careful? [insert loud, prolonged laughing] Is this my son I'm on the phone with? Hello?"
ME:"Yeah, funny dad. I've got to go. Love ya, bye."
DAD:"Okay, what do you want then? Name it..."
ME:"I want a motorcycle... I'm going now."
DAD:"Anything but a motorcycle."
ME:"Dad, I've got to go... Bye... love you."
DAD:"You know how many people die on those things annually?"
ME:"I'm not sure... 3?"
DAD:"A lot more than that son, and they were all little hot shot guys like you who thought they were invincible."
ME:"Please dad, I've broken my neck already... we know that I'm unstoppable."
DAD:"See, that's the attitude that..."
ME:"Dad, I'm kidding, I've got to go."
DAD:"I'm serious son I don't..."
ME:"Dad! I'm going!"
DAD:"Okay, love ya."

*It should be noted that getting off the phone with my father is incredibly difficult. The man rants more than Dennis Miller.

So within the next couple of days after my family found out, I received many voicemails from my father asking me not to get a bike, informing me that he has a blank check... and the highest he'll go is 75 bucks.
The thing I find hilarious about the reactions from my family is that, in mine, I'm not surprised at all. To the ordinary family, it's usually the mother who won't let her children do anything anti-conservative. I remember how my dad freaked the fuck out when my mom let me get my ear pierced in the 5th grade. [Man I was a bad ass.]
Last year he found out that his daughter, the youngest of his two children had some tattoos... he nearly fainted. When I was talking to him on the phone about this, he said to me, "At least you don't have any."
At that point I hadn't seen my dad for about a year and a half because my work had me all around the world and I hadn't made it back to visit. Also, my right arm is a full sleeve and my left is being worked on.
You can imagine his reaction when he saw them for the first time.
My father is hilarious when it comes to living conservatively.
The last conversation I had with him about the motorcycle was priceless.
I'm a smart ass at heart, which I get from my father, that he understands, but it plays on his stresses sometimes.

DAD:"I'm serious son, I don't want you getting this motorcycle."
ME:"My mind is made up dad. Plus, I only want to get it to pop up on one wheel while going down the freeway at 90mph."
I think, at that moment, I heard my fathers heart stop.
ME:"Dad? Hello?"

Come back 1985!

2007-07-20T08:58:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering this topic for some time, and while I was reading some of my favorite blogs, today's post from Flash inspired me to voice my opinion on the matter.

Who was it that sent out the memo saying we should raise the children of today to become pussies? Because whoever it was, should be done away with.
Why are we doing this to the future of the world?
Everything in the world of a child today is safer, softer and more pussified. Worse than the people that came up with the shitty ideas, are the parents that actually employ the crap for their children to use.
Playgrounds are now built with soft rubber padding underneath the plastic coated jungle gyms, those annoying ass shoes, "Heeleys" have safety recommendations, "superheroes" like spiderman* and batman no longer exist, they have real life heroes for kids now.
I'm a child of the 80's, and life for us was pretty dangerous; but we all made it out alive... with some scars and some pretty damn good life lessons.
I remember when tonka made their trucks out of metal, and yeah, you might get cut on the edge, but you'd sure as hell, be more careful the next time you decide to sit on the top the truck and play destruction derby against your friends and their tonka trucks.
I recall getting burnt once by my sisters easy bake oven when I was trying to steal some of that shitty brown cake stuff, well it was the metal tray actually... but the point is, it happened once; when I tried to cry to my mom that I got burned... she didn't cuddle me and tell me she was going to sue Mattel, [or who ever made it] she slapped some burn ointment on it and said, "Guess you won't be doing that again will ya?", and you know what... I didn't.
I've got scars from being a kid, because that's what being a kid is all about; you're supposed to get hurt, you have to learn to pay the fuck attention to the world around you. I learned that lesson when I had to get 13 stitches on my forehead when I smacked the shit out of my face running under the wooden playground near our California home. [God that was embarrassing, because my crush, Mallory Petty saw me do it.]
And another thing...
What's with blaming all the problems with children on the video games that they play?
Fuck that!
Graphics might be better now with the PlayStation 7... or whatever number we're on, but game content doesn't have shit on what we had on the original Sega Genesis. Remember Mortal Combat? Finish him... and then scorpion would use that handy rope, hook thing to rip his opponents heart out. Hell yeah!
There were no rating systems with that shit either, and when my friends and I would be playing out the game in the backyard, my mom would come out to us, roll her eyes and ask who wanted an Otter pop. [God those were good.]
Nothing good can come from pussifying our kids today... nothing.
We need to stop the parents, who are put in charge of PTAs, from letting the world become too soft around our children.
Take for example the rules at a Virginia Middle School where no touching is allowed. None, whatsoever.
The president of the PTA justified this by using an example where touching could be dangerous.
High Fives...
She claims that it could start innocent... just a few teens slappin' skin, but when you factor in their cronies wanting to get involved, that's when the shit really hits the fan. You'd have a bunch of prepubescent teens throwin' all kinds of high fives and a passer by might be knocked with a rogue elbow.
What the fuck has gotten into our world today?
Rogue Elbows? Helmets for shoes? What in the world is next?
The thing that really gets my goat about all of this, is that, it's not like these parents were raised in the same environment. These people were raised in the late 70's, early 80's, a time that was so far from where we are now in terms of how children are raised.
I think the worst thing we can do for our kids is to protect them so much that they become dumb to the world, which, essentially is what's happening now. I believe there is a certain amount of protection that child needs from his/her parents, [obviously] but a bubble isn't included in that certain amount.
Whatever happened to the idea of, "Kids will be kids"? I remember hearing that time and time again growing up... when our parents watched us play, "roman chariots", where we tied a piano dolly to a bike and we raced around the street, or when my sister knocked her head on the diving board when she was trying to do a flip... to which my father reacted perfectly, in my opinion. He saw it happen, came to the edge of the pool to make sure his daughter wasn't drowning, called her over to where he was, calmly I might add, and asked if she was alright while he looked for blood. I recall him asking her, "You bonked your head pretty good didn't you?... Are you alright?".
My sister didn't cry, she didn't freak out, and it's because our parents didn't raise us to be whining pussies. Her reaction in that moment was a direct reflection of my fathers, and because he didn't freak out, [Oh my God Jennifer! Someone call 911!] my kid sister didn't either. I can only imagine the mess that would be made in today's society of parents.
The point is, we were subjected to much more danger in our childhood than kids are now, and we all turned out fine.
At least, some of us did.

*I overheard a barber cutting a kids hair and she asked the little boy if he was excited to see the new spiderman movie; the kid didn't know who spiderman was. That's how I can say they don't exist, because while Hollywood makes movies of them, they're not an integral part of youth today like they were when we were kids. I remember I actually wanted to be spiderman when I "grew up". [Whenever that's going to happen, I'd like to know.]

I think my eyes are going bald...

2007-07-19T12:31:00.000-07:00

In the past few months I've been loosing eye lashes like a motherfucker... I say "motherfucker" because I hear they have the highest average lash loss annually.

[Where that came from, I have no idea.]

I'm wondering if there's some sort of statistic to what's normal and what's not in the way of shedding from your eye lids... someone please help with that...

Frankly I'm sick of the little buggers getting stuck in my eyes... it's pretty damn annoying.
I really can only take so much.

Side note: Nora Jones has left the building!

Someone please go turn Nora Jones on.

2007-07-19T10:13:00.000-07:00

My work day starts at 7:30, as it does for half the people in this office. There's a man that I work with who I've talked about before.
For the purpose of this blog, we'll call him "Hank".
Hank arrives in the office at the same time that I do [assuming I'm on time]. Usually he listens to Italian radio, which is cool, because I need to work on the language myself [I can read it and speak it just fine... but hearing someone else... especially a professional Italian speak it on the radio... I can't keep up]. With Hank, I'm starting to believe that he has no idea what they're saying, I say this because I've heard him try to translate some things on a website; far from correct. I'm under the strict belief that he fabricates a lot of things to appear that he's very developed culturally.
I digress.
Today is different, we're not graced with the Italian radio waves, no no. Today, Hank has brought in a Nora Jones CD. [Hooray] I'm not really a fan of the artist, because of the memories associated with her music, and because I can only stand so much whiny piano crap, but people have their interests, and I have mine. He put the CD at the start of work, and we all had to listen to the CD in it's entirety.
It's now 10:22... we're still listening to Nora fucking, and I swear, that if I hear "Turn me on" one more fucking time I'm going ape shit.
I'm asking with the utmost of sincerity, will someone please either:
a) come turn Nora on
or
b)put me out of my misery.
I can listen to a CD on repeat but only under the dire of circumstances...
1)Road trips [CD is mp3 so it has over 100 random songs]
or
2)The CD is in mp3 format and it has over 100 random songs.
Even then, I feel like I'm pushing it, but sitting at work listening to the same 14 songs over and over is just too much.

Side note: Maybe he's just trying to torture me with his passive aggressive bullshit.

If so, it's working and I detest him just that much more.

----------------------------------------------

To further my annoyance at the world today, I was lucky enough to deal with another driver who was a complete pain in my ass.
Completing my errands this morning, I was headed back to my office and pulled behind a guy around my age, [25ish] driving a new[er] corvette. By all means, good on him... he must be doing something right to be driving a car with that price tag at whatever [young] age he is.
This isn't what annoyed me.
I'm the kind of person that has what doctors call a "lead foot" as I find it extremely taxing to drive only 5mph over the speed limit. To be fair, when I'm not in a hurry, like today, I have no quarrel with a person doing the speed limit... not everyone likes speeding tickets, I understand that.
That wasn't the case with home-boy; for whatever reason, he deemed it necessary to meander along at 10 under the speed limit.
To clarify... today, in the Pacific Northwest, it's not snowing, it's not icy, it's not raining buckets, there aren't any crazy windstorms going on... so I couldn't help but wonder... "What the fuck is the hold up hombre?"
The fact that this kid is driving a corvette made the fire in my eyes burn that much brighter.
People, when you buy a sports car, don't drive it like a pussy... now, I'm not saying you need to drive 30 mph over the speed limit, sideways, everywhere you go... but go the speed limit at least.
Fuck.
This is probably the only reason why I like Florida.

Hello lawsuit

2007-07-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

What a coincidence that this happened in Braintree MA of all places.
I know it's probably really mean of me, but I think this is absolutely hilarious.
To sum up the story, a family was demolishing their house, they volunteered the house to the local firefighters so they could use it for some training exercises. So the house owners waited with the contracts for the firefighters to show up, and they never did...
The fire department did show up at a house for training in which they practiced ventilating a burning house. The homeowners house happened to show up at the house and posed the appropriate question, "WTF?".
Not surprisingly the fire department officials weren't available for comment.

Where'd they go?

2007-07-18T11:18:00.000-07:00

So I was browsing through some old photos and videos from my childhood, and I noticed something.
Where the fuck have all the mustaches gone?
Has anyone else noticed the serious lack of mustaches in our country since the 90's? It seems that everyone, and I mean everyone in my toddler days had a mustache. Pictures with my dad holding me, he has a mustache. Pictures of me at my baptism, everyone... mustache. My mom holding me on my first Christmas, my aunt sitting next to her; sporting a mustache.
I don't understand how something can be so popular, so widespread, then just dissapear at the snap of a finger; not unlike the spice girls.
Now, I'm not really complaining here, cause mustaches really creep me out, I'm just wondering, has anyone else noticed this?
Searching for mustaches on the internet I found this.

Now...

2007-07-18T10:46:00.000-07:00

I'm not a buffy fan... but I do love the English.

This is a must see by the way.

So many thanks

2007-07-17T17:39:00.001-07:00

No sir, thank you...

It should be noted that I ate 5 plates of food at this place, not to mention some dessert as I left...

Neverending story... in the mousse.

2007-07-17T12:17:00.000-07:00

A discovery was made last night at 13 Coins on Boren Ave right here in Seattle WA...
Falkore the luckdragon took the form of Chocolate Mousse last night/early this morning. Upon the discovery, the two patrons who'd made the discovery, [after careful thought of character names from the movie] quoted lines that they knew... there were two of them.

"Faaaalllkkkoooorrree"

and

"AAAtttrrreeeeyyyyuuu"

Falkcore met his fate when the male patron in the booth decided to end play time and swallowed the luckdragon's head, whole.
This, of course, was not before some photos were snapped.

Less than meets the eye... possible spoiler alert.

2007-07-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

So Pema and I went to see the Transformers movie. [Yeah we're nerds, big deal]
I have to say that we were pretty excited about seeing it, especially with all the hype and the fact that these where one of the toys to have during our childhood.
Walking out of the movie, besides feeling like we ate too much popcorn, we felt pretty gypped.
All that hype, all of my friends talking about how it's such a great movie... and then, blah. It was nothing short of fooling around with your high school girlfriend in the backseat of your parents car, only for her to tell you that it's got to be cut short because she has to get home before curfew, leaving you... needing a cold shower to put it lightly.
Now, I wasn't expecting for it to fulfill all my wildest imaginations, because I mean, come on, it's only a movie... but I didn't expect to be let down like I had been.
So, the movie started off with some suspense, by that I mean, they didn't just throw a whole bunch of transformers in your face right off the bat... instead they opened the movie with a decepticon attacking some military place in the desert and they didn't over expose him either, they let us catch enough of a glimpse to keep us interested.
Cue cheesy lines...
So it dragged on, and we [the audience] receives some indicators of what the plots all about, but they have yet to work on any plot points... I realize this about a hour and a half into the movie, so I turn and confirm with Pemms that this, is in fact, true.
Cue more cheesy lines...
Because they took so long getting to the plot of the movie the last half seemed a bit rushed.
Also, I've got say that the autobots had some pretty stupid vehicles... what's with that? So, you've got the new camaro... alright, but the decepticons have a fucking tank, two jet planes, and a bulldozer thingy, you're not doing your best to compete when you've got a Pontiac Solstice, some ambulance vehicle and a massive GMC truck.
So, the long and the short of it is that the movie was way over-hyped, [no surprise there] took way too long to go anywhere with the story, and while there were a lot of action sequences, my eyes couldn't track all the camera jolts and movement so I couldn't make out what the fuck I was looking at on the screen.
On a side note, it is funny that all of the transformers have awesome names, like, Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Megatron, Starscream... and then there's Bumblebee... how do you expect to inspire any sort of intimidation with a name like that... unless of course your foe is allergic to you, like I am otherwise you're just not cutting it against all the "bad ass-bots" and "kick your face in-trons".
Anyhow, they did make a good attempt, the special effects where pretty damn cool, and they stayed kind of close to the original story, [aside from the changes in the original transformed states of the autobots and decepticons] but I still think it was a disappointment. Do I want my money back? Nah, but I do wish that I didn't eat so much fucking popcorn.
Cue ending with more cheesy lines.

2007-07-16T16:29:00.001-07:00

now, I've never been okay with couples dressing alike, but is there tolerance for people going to a ball game? I put it you... let me know what you think.

My addiction...

2007-07-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

I've come to terms that I have a serious addiction to the usage of the ellipsis.
Now, I knew that I was bad with using them... as I insert them anywhere I can... often despite using improper grammar. Today it's become apparent to me that enough really is enough, because I don't even notice when I use them anymore.
It was pointed out to me just a moment ago, when I drafted up a false email where I posed as someone else and tried to send a quirky email around the office tendering my resignation [of the other person, not myself].
To my surprise I received a few emails of reply at my work email address.

Email #1: Funny, but one thing escaped your view which gave away who really wrote this message. The over usage of the ellipsis. We know it was you CJ, nice try.

Email#2: Though it was clever, you're caught CJ. No one on the face of the earth uses that many (...) things. Plus, Sean isn't that sarcastic, you weren't even close to pulling that one off.

It's become so bad that people can tell that something was written by me just from the amount of ellipsis' that are contained in the message...
Emails, text messages... I even pause for three beats in everyday conversation.
There is no stopping this...
The next step is for someone to send a letter off the A&E show, "Intervention" to have me on, where I can be confronted by my friends and a trained professional.
What am I doing with my life?
Jeez...

My new asshole shirt, and other "frat-tastic" events from Saturday night.

2007-07-16T11:48:00.000-07:00

Now, it's not the shirt that makes a person the asshole, it's definitely the person. Nonetheless, I still call them asshole shirts.
To me, it's unclear when the lacoste polo became the asshole shirt, because I can recall back in the day when izod made lacoste polos, they were cheap and we all had them as kids.
I'm not saying that all people that wear these polos are assholes, because I have plenty, but I am saying that almost all assholes chose to wear them.
I guess it's all a step up process... you go from your fraternity and Abercromie and Fitch in college to your Lacoste polos and your boat shoes in the corporate world.
Yuck.
So this weekend was Amerivespa so my friends and I were out riding around in large groups and generally having a kick ass time. Saturday night my friend Pem-tron and I were to meet up with some others at a great wine bar called Purple cafe and wine bar. Our reservation was at 9, and we were downtown at 8:30, while this was a slightly casual, slightly dressed up type of thing, I wasn't prepared. Additionally, Pema looked quite delectable, while I looked anything but dapper. It was decided that I'd stop by Nordstrom and pick something more appropriate for the evening since there was no time for any other option. Arriving at the store there was hardly an option for what I needed and what I find is in good taste. This of course led to my purchase of a brilliant kelly green Lacoste polo. Making my outfit even more, "frat-tastic" or "Tod" as we like to say, Pema eyed a pretty cool looking pair of pumas and with my bad my habit of spending a lot of money coupled with the fact that I agreed with her, I purchased the shoes.
Our time at Purple was great, and the wine was fantastic. My good friend Jackie who had out of town company wanted to head out and show his friend a good time out on the town. It was decided that we were to go to Belltown Billiards, to which I wasn't to fond of. [See post on Tiki Bobs.]
This place is only a little more tolerable because it's in Belltown, so there aren't as many tourists and you can play pool, for 15 bucks an hour.
I felt like a complete asshole because Pemm had a nice casual dress on and all I managed to find was an asshole polo and some asshole white shoes... and one of my biggest peeves is when a girl gets all dolled up to go our with a guy and he wears jeans a t-shirt and a ball cap. [I realize I don't match up to that annoyance, but I felt like an asshole nonetheless.]
We were lucky enough to grab a table near the dance floor, which later, became the standing floor as people stood shoulder to shoulder as they attempted to "dance fuck" with their chosen partner. [So attractive]
I had my grey goose hound and pema her tom collins, while jackie and amanda [out of town friend] proceeded to get annihilated.
Of the many awesome people we were able to watch, some of them included:
Your garden variety drunk dude, who thinks he's more suave than he actually is, he's in a music video and acts as such during the rap songs and that every woman in the place wants to go home with him tonight, so he's not worried about getting laid, telling his buddies to now wait up for him. We also saw a girl wearing shorts that look a lot like these, only they were baby blue. If that wasn't enough for the outfit, she was wearing 4 inch white open toed pumps, [of course] and thin camisole while she tastefully showed off her bra straps to the place. [Pema's favorite]
Eventually we'd had enough and decided it was time to go and crash.
We left the place looking as if we were about to go meet up with some of my "Sigma Chi" brothers, completely not drunk enough to deal with all the belltown Tods and Tammys that were roaming the streets.
If this blog serves as nothing but a recap for the night, let it serve to make fun of myself a little. I looked like the "mainstream" "suburbanite" that I hate/fear to become and was at such a place that they visit.
Hey, at least it afforded some stellar people watching.

It looks as if I need to move to support my blogging...

2007-07-13T12:19:00.000-07:00

The more I search and read some terrific blogs, [found on my sidebar] I've come to the realization that I am the only Seattle blogger that I know of. [yikes]
There are two cities represented in the majority of the daily blogs that I read; LA and New York. I've been fortunate enough to live in both places but I can see that it's now more than ever that I should reside, again, in the aforementioned cities.
I'm a creature of creativity and I love meeting new people that share the same interests. [I'm not at all saying that Seattle isn't riddled with creative people] So when I read about thing like the LA Bloggers live, and the many gatherings for bloggers going down in the big apple, I can't help but feel disconnected.
Now, this post isn't so much about me wanting to leave Seattle for more "blogger friendly" cities, as it is a call for the people of Seattle to step up. I'd hate to think that I'm the only one trying to represent the Queen City, because, quite frankly, my postings aren't cutting it... [in my opinion]
It'd be great to have the opportunity to meet up with other bloggers, share some opinion and some good microbrew, but sadly it's not happening for us here in Seattle...
One day, I hope... A man can have dreams, can't he?

If any of you knows of good blogger events that happen in Seattle, or of any other Seattlite bloggers, please, don't hesitate to let me know.
Thanks
CJ

Adventures at the "Bloody Rug"

2007-07-12T18:46:00.000-07:00

While browsing through the blogs that I read on the daily, I came across this posting and it brought back some memories of my first strip club experience.
The "brew patriot" and I share the same view on strip clubs. I too have the George Costanza view on parking/prostitution. "Why should I pay for something that, if I apply myself a bit more, I can get for free."
Stripping is even worse than prostitution, not morally or anything like that, I'm just thinking about the payout to entertainment ratio. I mean, you didn't have to split the atom to know what you're getting when you pay a prostitute for her services. A stripper, now that's a different story, yeah we know she's going to be taking off her clothes, but then what, oh so she dances, big fucking deal, even if she's remotely attractive and you're becoming remotely turned on, you're in a large room filled with other men... that's a little awkward. So, the way I look at it, spending money at a strip club is on par with sticking a stack of ones in a cross cut paper shredder, and I'd rather do that, because I think it'd be neat to have confetti made from money.
I've detracted from the point of this blog, my first time in a strip club.
Now it's very easy for me to remember my first time in one for three reasons:
1)I've only been in 4 strip clubs in my life
2)The venue itself
3)It only happened 3 years ago
We [myself, and three friends from work] were out trying to find something remotely entertaining to do. The problem there was that we were in southeastern Georgia and there isn't shit to do but drink till you can't feel the humidity and the women become thin.
We were in Brunswick and we'd heard of this place called the "Red Carpet Lounge". Lucky for us, one of the guys we were out with knew the area, so he immediately piped up and told us all it was a strip club and it's called the "Bloody Rug" by the locals.
Hindsight being 20/20 I wouldn't have even opened my mouth to inform the group that I'd never been to a strip club and I wasn't particularly interested. My good friend Sean, who's inclined to check out seedy dive bars and create awkward situations, immediately stated that we were going in, and seeing as I wasn't driving, I had no choice.
Walking in we were met by some large man that was the size of my living room wall who stopped us, checked our IDs and made us pay him a cover of 6 bucks. "There's a fucking cover? Here?"
The was club filled with metal fold up chairs staged around a raised platform that was probably 4 feet by 4 feet, this constituted the "dance area".
We sat and immediately were greeted by a waitress scantily clad in horrible lingerie who was eager to take our order for drinks. The "plan" was to have two beers and the get the fuck out of there, that was, until Sean decided that it'd be a great idea to tell the waitress and the stripper that just sat down with us, that it was my birthday; thanks for that Sean, by the way.
The beer ordering went bust when we found out that all they had was Natural Ice in the can and it wasn't refrigerated.
"Gin and Tonic for me then!"
I mentioned the stripper who sat down with us randomly, who I noticed for the first time when the waitress, after taking our drink order, took the strippers order, which was a Tequila Sunrise.
"Wow, the stripper order a whore drink, quite surprised there", I thought to myself. But she was a ~~little chubby~~ husky girl, so I considered the fact that maybe she needed them for the confidence to get on stage and remove here clothes, who knows, I'm not a fat stripper girl in bum fuck Georgia.
All was well until she [the waitress] turned to me and asked if I wanted to buy this girls drink... "Are you fucking kidding me!?" I boasted, "No... hell no."
Needless to say they were a little surprised by my reaction, as I'm sure their club is constantly chalked full of toothless gents eager to by "big rig" a drink, but not this guy.
So the "dancer" has to buy her own drink, but she stays and keeps talking to us. I can't remember her name or anything about her, but I do remember that she was a single mother of one, and at the time, her second bun was in the oven as she spoke to us.
The night continued as it should, or at least I assumed it should, this being my first time in a nudie bar. That was, until the jello shots came my way, and I was approached by another waitress. With it being my "birthday" and all, I was getting my shot served to me the "special" way... lucky me.
Initially she tried to place it [a test tube filled with jello and some tasty alcohol] in my mouth as she was going to put her mouth over the exposed end. Not wanting her face near mine, I shook my finger at her, and told to her to find another way to administer the shot. With the up most of class, she thought it better to put it between my legs, so she did and then proceeded to swallow this test tube whole, which made me, interested, for lack of a better word. After sucking my test tube off, she placed the thing in cleavage and shoved my face into it forcing me to consume the shot.
"Boobs can't give you STDs, right? I should probably get checked anyway."
So in the situation I thought it appropriate to comment on her skill with the whole test tube down her esophagus thing and she said it's really not that hard, and she has an advantage... stupidly interested I inquired to what that might be, to my amazement she removes her top front teeth.
"I can die now, for I have seen it all" I think to myself.
The rest of the night was pretty anti-climatic, and we continued to get shitty from the well gin and went back to our hotel beds, alone, thank God."
So if you're ever in Brunswick, Georgia and you're looking for a good time, stop in the good ol' bloody rug, as I'm sure big rig is there and would love for you to buy her a drink.

I'm not sure if I should get to drinking or attend an AA meeting

2007-07-12T11:50:00.000-07:00

Last night I had this thought, "I really need to get to drinking all this beer." while I peered over my toadhouse beer "qualification card".
Now, you might be thinking to yourself, what the hell is that? Well, I'm about to tell you, so calm the fuck down...
This card has a list of over 100 beers that the toadhouse has either on tap or in a bottle. So you chose from the long, long list and you drink, then your kind, sobriety negating waitperson [notice how P.C. that was] signs off the completion of the ordered brew.
Now, all this drinking and having your card signed is not in vain. When you get to 10, you get a free pint, 20 - free pint glass, 30 - free shirt and you've completed the card when you reach 100 and they engrave your name on a cheap, gold plated piece of scrap metal and hang it on the wall [Now that inspires real pride!].
So it was when we [my friend Sean, his wife, Maura and my other friend Jackie] were looking over our cards counting up the totals that I had the thought, which is this blogs title.
My concern came when we had announced our totals, [Jackie-37, Sean-65] that I felt that I needed to catch the fuck up, as I had a total of 6 signatures on my card.
Now, it could be said in my favor that I don't live around the bar [Kitsap county (Seattle is across the Puget sound)] so my straggling behind the pack could be justified; but that doesn't cut it with these guys.
Additionally, I had a strong urge to get more scribbles on that card of mine, thus meaning I'd have to drink more, [not a problem I assure you] which lead me to wonder if I needed some program with steps and phrases like, "one day at a time", "clean and sober" and, "hi, I'm CJ and I'm an alcoholic".
Casting all that aside, I finished my Scuttlebutt Blonde and we all went home.
I guess looking at it rationally, I should only be worried when my desire to fill that card up comes in front of much more important things in my life, like my job, or bathing, or bathing at my job.
So, until that point, I'll just keep saying, "Hi, I'm CJ and I'm not yet an alcoholic".

The most hated shoe... ever!

2007-07-12T08:47:00.000-07:00

Never, in my life, can I recall receiving so much resistance in the footwear that I've chosen.
So, I've gone back and forth on this issue... well, it's not really an issue to most people, but for me it is... trying to find another good, kick around the house kind of, play bocce ball in the back yard kind of shoe, other than a flip flop, cause really... I own enough of them.
I digress.
So, I looked at "Chacos" because they're uber comfy, (yes, I just used the word "uber") and perfect for kick around footwear. The only problem is, I'm not about to spend 100 plus dollars on some shoes that I'm going to wear here and there in the backyard, or in and around my house. Looking around for other options I happened across a store selling crocs. Now, I'm well aware of the popularity of these things, especially in the bike messenger community here in Seattle. I've heard of how comfortable they are, and at 30 bucks a pop, you really can't go wrong.
I purchased a pair of black crocs, simple, cheap; they serve the purpose I intended.
The funny thing that I've noticed about these shoes, really have nothing to do with the shoes. I have no complaints; they're comfy, light, and pretty durable.
Everyone that I've encountered that come to find out that I own crocs, either from my friends saying something about them, or because they're on my feet, display one of two emotions.
Love or hate; there really is no indifference to them.
Now, the small amount of people that have told me they love crocs is not because they're super cool, or anything like that, it's out of practicality and comfort, which are, the two reasons for my purchasing them. Funny how that works. Oddly, the vast majority of people hate, and I mean hate these shoes. Some of my friends loathe these shoes, as if they've personally offended them. After throwing a badly thrown game of bocce, my good friend Sean blamed it on my crocs, saying he couldn't concentrate with my ugly shoes around him.
My footwear had sabotaged his game... there's a first, for me at least.
From now on, I can only expect resistance when it comes to my crocs, which is fine, people are allowed to have their opinion, I just find it strange that there are such hot or cold feelings toward them. Who would've guessed it? Not me, that's for sure. I mean, they're shoes for Christ’s sake, why have so much feeling over a shoe that you don't even own?
Moving on...
I tried to look at other things that were met with such an attitude, and I can only relate my shoes to one other thing... and that's Barney.
Essentially, I've purchased a pair of big, talking and singing purple dinosaurs for my feet.
That's at least how other people see my comfy shoes.

The correlation between how a ball player, plays and a fan watches.

2007-07-11T11:50:00.000-07:00

On June 6th of this year an article was posted on the Seattle Weekly website.
Seattle is known for a lot of things, but being a city for great sports teams, isn't one of them.
The code of conduct laws that are being strictly enforced at Safeco field might just be why the Mariners, well... suck.
The story talks about some game-goers, two for the visiting team and one, a die-hard mariner fan. The home team supporter, in hopes to rally the fans despite the fact the mariners getting creamed by the Red Sox, started bleacher type group chants. "Let's go Mariners", and other various chants, while also getting people to turn their hats inside out transforming them into "rally caps".
Simple, plain ol' ballpark stuff right? Well, not here at Safeco... he was approached by an "usher" and handed a red card and was told that he and his friends needed to leave.
I can understand that in the world we live in now, it's highly desired to crack down on public intoxication while trying to protect others from being offended; but this is really going too far.
Safeco field also tried to ban possible offensive garb as well, like shirts that read, "Yankees Suck".
It's in my humble opinion that this kind of nonsense is what killed professional sports here in Seattle.
I've been to a lot of ballparks, and have seen a lot of ballgames since I was just a little guy. This of course was back when we were allowed to bring in our own coolers of sandwiches, soda for me, and beer for my dad. Heckling is something that's just a part of the game, it's how the fan connects and quite importantly, it lets the players know just what the home crowd thinks of him.
Coming back here to the present and in Seattle, the park is quiet, with the exception of the half assed cheering when something remotely good happens for the Seattle swingers and that has a lot to do with why we always loose.
Every game I've been to away from Safeco has been loud, cursing and praises fill the air, directed at any or all of the players.
It's key in baseball, in any sport really, but especially in baseball.
What I'm getting at is this:
No one heckles in Seattle, they don't heckle the visitors and they don't let the home team know when they need to step it up. What does that mean then? Well, quite simply, the Mariners are only used to getting praise, which still doesn't contain as much zeal as other fans give in other stadiums. So when they're not doing well, they don't get abused... try being the Philly that hosed up that fly ball that prevented them from winning the world series... the guy got death threats! That is taking the sport a bit far, but it says something about the fans and what the team means to them. Here in Seattle, if they don't make the pennant, no one really cares, and the Mariners know that, so why should they care? Seattleites obviously don't.
Watching a game is a joke in Safeco Field, which is a direct result as to why the Mariners are one.

Does my microbrew make me a snob?

2007-07-11T10:20:00.000-07:00

I recently read a blog saying that, "life is too short to drink cheap beer."
Honestly, I couldn't agree more.
I've often pondered about my taste for a good microbrew, how I just can't bring myself to drink domestic, and how I completely avoid it. Trying to look at that from an outsiders prospective, I'd think that this makes me completely pretentious, on par with a "beer snob".
Thinking about it more, and after reading that post, I think my taste has no correlation with me being snobbish.
In college all I drank was the beast or natty ice, (Milwaukies Best, Natural Ice) simply because you could purchase it by the cube, (24 cans) and being under 21, beggars aren't choosers.
After turning 21, I moved to the Northeast and got settled in with drinking domestic drafts, and was fine with it. Bud light, Miller lite it was beer, and it was cheap. Then moving to the Southeast, choices for beer were even slimmer. It really didn't help that 98% of my friends drank domestic only.
Once I moved back to the Northwest my taste in beer grew for beyond domestic brews.
Now, the only beer I will drink is Blue Moon, or any of the brews coming from New Belgium Brewing Company.
Now, does this make me a snob? Does it say to other people in the bar that I think I'm better than the other beer connoisseurs? Here in Seattle, probably not; in the south... maybe.
My beer choices might cost me more, and that's all right, because to me it's warranted; higher alcohol content and better taste.
It might demand more from my bank account, but like that other blog stated... Life is too short to drink cheap beer.

For those who live in or plan on visiting Seattle, check out this great bar for some beer from around the world.

The funniest, most pathetic relationship ever...

2007-07-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

All the events in this blog are fact, only the names have been changed to protect the innocent

There's this person that I know, through work, that I've known for quite sometime... we'll call him "Hal"
Explaining the demeanor of this person is one of the most difficult things to do, and I've tried and tried, but have resolved in saying, to really understand this person, you need to meet him.
I digress.
Hal lives with a good friend of mine and his relationship with his girlfriend, "Sally" is a great source of entertainment for all that know my friend, "Jerry" that owns the house where Hal resides.
This year, Hal will turn 27 while his girlfriend; Sally just celebrated two things, her 18th birthday, and her graduation from high school.
I'm not one to look down on such an age gap, but only in the case when the maturity levels match.
In this case, they do... his matches hers.
What makes this situation an item of hilarity is the how they treat each other; his incompetence, and how she's set herself up in the relationship.
Now, in my opinion neither of them aren't the smartest of persons, as is evident if you tried to carry on a conversation with either of them.
Sally drives a 2002 mustang, which Hal purchased for her, and who else pays for the insurance... Hal.
This is, if the not the only reason, one of the main reasons Sally stays in this relationship. That is apparent by all the times she's cheated on Hal, which he knows about, but unfortunate for him, this is probably the best looking girl that he's ever scored or ever will in his lifetime.
Some of the funniest events have happened at Jerry’s house and of which I'm about to disclose to all of you for your reading enjoyment.
While they were out at a friend’s house having too much to drink, Sally made fun of Hal for being insecure, this apparently upset Hal, and he told her to find her own way home. Fast forward to the next morning when she woke up on the couch and he woke up in his own bed. The fighting continued about who knows what. Jerry was there to account for all of what went down and phoned me to prevent him from pulling out his hair. What happened next was just down right stupid. Sally, not happy with how the argument was going decided next to pour a cup of coffee on the digital camera that she had purchased for Hal, and to retort, Hal then picked up her laptop, which I assume he gave her, and threw it on the ground. After it was announced that her adopted father would be coming by to pick her and her things up, (because he took the car away from her for the umpteenth time) Hal then changed his demeanor, falling to his knees, crying and begging her to stay with him. This of course isn't the first time that he's done this. I wasn't as lucky as Jerry was, who actually witnessed this, but Hal, in a fit of panic over Sally leaving him, took out one of his rifles and held it, barrel first, to his chest, threatening to shoot him if she left him. Wow.
They of course reconciled, and moved past...
Fast forward to opening day for the Mariners. Hal found out that Sally had gone to the game not with her friends, like she had told him, but with a guy that she'd been messing around with. How'd he find this out you ask... well, Hal has the passwords to her myspace, email and voicemail.
His reaction to all of this wasn't a surprising one. His best idea was to finish off the twelve pack he had started and to rollerblade, not drive down to the ferry terminal (they live in Kitsap county which is a hour ferry ride from Seattle) and take the car that he bought her. Realizing that he was too drunk to drive it, he decided then to sabotage it, while he really knows nothing about what he was trying to do, though he'd argue otherwise, was successful in nothing but burning his hand pretty badly. So he left numerous phone messages on her voicemail of hate, which turned into pathetic apologies and then into him begging her to love him.
One evening I had crashed on Jerry’s couch, as I was too drunk to drive from his house, I was lucky enough to overhear a phone conversation between the two lovebirds. Hal was apparently drunk and was tired of Sally’s bullshit, saying things like, "How many times have you cheated on me? I've had plenty of opportunities, but I love you too much." Blah blah blah...
The next day, everything was fine for the happy couple.
Last I heard of them, was that things were on the up and up, with the exception of the latest fight they got to at her high school prom, where they broke up yet again, and Sally took some other guy into the bathroom and went down on him... Classy.
I haven't been fortunate enough to hear of anything else lately but rest assured, there will be more to come.
The absolute amazing thing about their relationship is I don't think Hollywood itself could script a more dysfunctional relationship.
My only prayer is that they don't procreate.

I really don't care who you are...

2007-07-10T14:25:00.001-07:00

This is some funny shit.

My micro "mac" observation.

2007-07-10T12:22:00.001-07:00

Today I was talking with someone about good music; new music that I've recently found, new releases, oldies but goodies, and my favorite tracks for the summer. What happened during this conversation led me to this almost brilliant observation.
While we took turns spouting off our summer soundtracks, he, (the person I was talking to) named off some basic top 40 tracks, from the latest of the one hit wonder type of bands playing on corporate radio these days. This really can't be to his blame though, he's a true suburbanite at heart, which is fine, for some, just not me. What I wondered next is the inspiration for this realization.
My brain, subconciously already on track with this idea, cued me to inquire as to what kind of computer this man owned... He puffed up his chest and spouted off some new kind of Sony Viao, blah blah blah, apparently with a large sense of pride. I stopped him short, as I just wanted to know, "PC or MAC?"
He looked so very puzzled by the question and almost insulted... the conversation trailed off as I exclaimed that I had work to do. This is when I got to thinking; most of my really good friends own macs. Most of the people that I deal with in the music industry own macs.
Why is this?
Now, I'm not one to say that I'm cooler than a person that doesn't own a mac, but thinking about it... why shouldn't I?
Take the commercials for example... the marketing geniuses that work for Steve Jobs have a whole series of "us vs them" type of advertisements, portraying the MAC as a hip younger mid twenties guy, and the PC as a man in his mid-thirties you'd classify as a "square". While the common PC advertisement will have nothing to do with trying to compare to Macintosh, or in portraying itself as a young hip charicachure of it's computer platform over the version opposite the table; MAC.
The best way I could firgure it out is to compare my friends that own PCs and my friends that own MACs.
Here's a snipet from the list I devised:

Computer savvy friends: 15; of those friends, 2 own PCs.
Friends that I know through spinning music: around 30; of those, 0 use PCs.
Friends who are heavy into the arts, (painting, photography, etc.): 34; of those, 2 own PCs.

From those three examples I was able to pinpoint, (only because I know my friends) what the key differences are between my friends that own macs; around 90, and my friends who own PCs; around 25.
My friends who own macs are more right brain thinkers, they tend to be more liberal, and computer savvy. All of my friends that own macs are very artistic and/or creative. Of all my friends that live in suburbia, only 1 owns a mac. Additionally, of all my friends that live in Urban areas, only 2 have PCs.
Stretching my observation from just poeople that I know to ones that I simply observe around the city; it could be noted that people who own macs typically use a computer more, as 90% of people in coffee shops are on them and not on PCs.
Tracking back to my original observation, in that, I noted the majority of people that I either know, or call my friends use macs, and why that was.
Me, being a person that is very creative, who spends a lot of time on his computer (away from work), and is very into art and music; could come to the conclusion that this is why I use a mac. Furthermore, people usually surround themselves with like minded people, whether you're creative, or you're a complete douche, those you hang with are most typically just like you.
So why do most of my friends use macs? Well, because we're all creative individuals who need to use an awesome computer, so that's why we chose mac... That, and because we're cooler so we need a cooler computer to facilitate that level of coolness.

Are you a member of the water club?

2007-07-10T10:18:00.000-07:00

In all of the offices that I've worked in or heard of, there has been a community cash pot for coffee. Everyone that drinks coffee usually chips in about 5 bucks a month and they drink all the coffee that they want. The same applies in our office; an empty coffee can sits, sans lid, just waiting for money to be placed in its open top. There's even a sign on the fridge that discusses the "coffee club", it's dues and who's all paid up.
In this same break room, we have a water cooler, as does most break rooms I suppose. This is where I was encountered. Mind you, I've just recently moved into this office, but I've worked in the same job for quite a while.
Following the usual protocol when I find my water bottle lacking water, I got up, marched my happy ass into the break room and comenced filling it with some tasty H2O. Simple enough right? No, not today. Now, there's a man that I work with, who is all bent out of shape about a younger person being on the same level as he is on the "corporate ladder", so he's always trying to find where I could be wrong in something, in a statement I make, when I'm out of the office, you get the point.
So, after my water bottle is filled, I step back and turn around, while almost running into this guy with the chip on his shoulder.
"I didn't know you were apart of the water club" he shrieks as if he's caught me doing something morally wrong.
I of course, have no idea what he's talking about, "Water club?"
"Yeah, we all pay five dollars a month to have this water cooler here."
I say that I can see that as valid, as we are one of the only offices in the building that has this cool guy water cooler in our break room, but I go on to mention how there's a lack of information on the existance of such a club, and how I go about becoming a member... I even mention the postings about the coffee club and the empty can to be filled with money.
"Yeah, but that's coffee" he retorts...
I tell him that I understand what it is, but tell him that the members of the coffee club have signs up to include one posted on the pot itself to inform anyone outside the club that taking the coffee is strictly forbade.
I then asked him to get me the name of the guy taking money for the water club, and I'd happily get in touch with him and pay for the month I've been here and for next month so I can have a clear concious about taking water.
The good thing about this whole confrontation, is I was running out of stuff to do today, and I was fighting sleep behind the closed doors of our office... and now it's given me something to do... if only temporarily.
Working in an office can be a good source of hilarity.

Jet City I love you, but you're bringing me down...

2007-07-02T08:02:00.001-07:00

I'm having what I belive to be a quarter life crisis. I'm going in a different direction with my career than I had originally planned, I've just moved from the city I love, the only thing I'm missing is a convertable sports car; but I do plan on purchasing a motorcycle, so I think that's kind of the same thing.
Leaving my home last night, truck filled with belongings, I felt sort of empty; it's not the first time I've had to move from a place that I really enjoy, but it is the first time I've had this feeling. The reason that I'm leaving seattle is totally exiciting, and a reason that should inspire joy, but I can't help but feel a little empty. Making things just a little worse, I'm having to live, for a short tenure, in suburbia, which is a place that I hate by the way.
I have full intention to come back to the city, when I return from Naples in November, but until I leave, I can't help but feel different when I spend time in the city. I think that it's because I've been turned into an "out of towner", and I can't just go out and relax at my favorite places, I have to worry about time restraints, and getting back home after a night of drinking, instead of how it was before, when I could just meander up the hill to my house in Capitol Hill.
*UPDATE*
I've now been living in suburbia for a week... I'm surviving, but only barely. This past weekend wasn't that bad. I got a hotel room so I could spend all the time I wanted in the city. While, I felt a touch better I couldn't help but feel removed.
I'm anxious for the coming weekend as it is Amerivespa! That's right folks, I do own a vespa... which has to be some sort of requirement for carrying this guinea blood I've got in my veins. I'm hoping that it will take my mind from me recent move, and let me focus on other things... like being awesome on the vespatron.
totally.

The complete idiocy of some, well... most.

2007-04-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

Easter Sunday was one that started out quite nicely.
Marcy and I woke up to the beautiful sun, and some good breakfast.
We decided that the day would be perfect for some downtown street shooting, (photography) and Marcy wanted to get some portrait work done, and elected me to be her subject.
We shot some portraits in freeway park, and for those of you who live here in Seattle, I suggest you check it out, it's amazing.
We finished up, and walking down into the downtown "shopping district" which is on pike and pine and extends from 8Th street down to the pike place market on western. We decided to grab some lunch at Mexico the Cantina in Pacific Place, and like we imagined it was great.
On with the debacle!
As we walked down pine toward the market, (south west) I crossed the street to shoot a man holding a sign that read, "Free Hugs". After capturing about 10 frames I turned see what the commotion I heard was all about. What exactly happened was this. Marcy, with her 50mm lens attached stood behind a street pole and shot three frames of some teens piled on the fountain that wasn't running in the south side of the west lake center. When she turned to find me, she was accosted almost immediately by a street kid.
"Hey! You took my picture and I demand you to erase it from your camera, that's illegal!"
Marcy, stunned by the reaction turned to the girl and retorted that such an act is in fact NOT illegal and that we was going to do nothing of the sort. Saving time, I'm going to spare each piece of dialogue and offer up a synopsis of what occurred.
The girl, who later was discovered to be named "bubbles", wasn't happy that Marcy was not going to oblige. Screaming that it's illegal and not allowing Marcy to leave, this, naturally attracted a scene of people, and unfortunate for us, it was of more street kids, who did nothing but egg bubbles on. They'd scream out to Marcy that bubbles was going to beat her up. Now, before this had all escalated to this point, bubbles had clearly stated that if Marcy didn't delete the photo, she was going to break her camera. Now, I didn't wish for anything to happen to Marcy, so I followed her around and, after hearing this from bubbles, I decided that it'd be a good idea to get the police out here to hammer this whole thing out, as she wasn't going to let the two of us go anywhere.
I'm glad to say, that two people in this large crowd did step forward and let bubbles know that she is in fact wrong, and only confirmed what Marcy had been saying in the first place. Marcy, who is an actual photo journalist, studied at Brooks Institute of Photography and covered this actual topic. If someone is of age, is in a public place, a photo can legally be taken of them as long as it's not used for advertising.
So while we stood and waited for the police to arrive, bubbles went on to tell us that she in fact studied law, which was hard for me to believe, even more so when we found out that she is only the fresh age of 18. Then she cleverly pointed out that Marcy must come from money, and that she did as well, only trying to lure Marcy out conversationally to continue the argument more than it needed to.
I could see that Marcy was visibly irritated as she jabbed comments back to bubbles as the young street lawyer rambled on. I told Marcy that we should just wait for the cops, and ignore her, as she has no idea what she was talking about. Bubbles wasn't happy with my comment and tried engaging me in conversation.
Luckily the police arrived, and stepping to our aid the officer asked what the problem was, and I might have thought it would happen, bubbles piped up, "This lady took a picture of me with her camera, and she has to delete it from her camera because it's illegal!"
She was immediately met with the answer being told to her by Marcy and the two others who interjected.
"No, she doesn't. You're in a public place, so it's not illegal."
The Police separated her from us, and apparently she still was adamant in thinking she was right. I mean, she DID study law for Christ's sake!
They took our info, and let us on our way, at which we went immediately.
Now, Marcy still hadn't been able to take a peek at the photo, and once we had rounded the corner, I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. I knew that she was shooting with a fixed focal length of 50mm so she wasn't zooming in on anyone, that was obvious. The picture that accompanies the headline of this blog was one of the three that bubbles was so angry about. The girl that we're talking about is standing on the right of the photo, wearing a tan jacket. You can see that this picture is in no way of her, the balance is primarily on the left of this photo, and you can't even make out her face unless you squint and press your face about two inches from your computer screen.
Marcy has posted a blog about it on her actual site, and some people have commented on it, saying that she reacted the way she did because she's a street person. Well, the funny thing about the street kids here in Seattle is that the majority of them are in now way "roughing" it. Most come from wealthy families and just happen to be into the "grunge" scene so the hang out in these places with all the other "less fortunate" rich kids and act tough for some sort of street cred.
This whole incident just proves how stupid people can be, and what was almost more annoying, was the fact that other street teens gathered in support of bubbles shouting out that it was wrong, and that Marcy should just delete the photo to make everything right. That's just want these pathetic kids want, to intimidate anyone they can, so they can look more legitimate to their peers.
I say, stick to what you know bubbles, collecting change, hanging out in bad weather, dressing horribly, so just go away, attend your raves and keep reading those law books. When you're all done with that, go fuck yourself.

Opening Day!

2007-04-03T08:50:00.000-07:00

That time is here my fellow baseball fans!
Just another reason to love the coming of spring, baseball kicked off here in our great evergreen state. Yesterday seemed to start off as the perfect day for the ballpark.
Clear skies, sun shining, perfect.
This is the first opening day game I've been to in a long time, and no matter what, I was going to enjoy myself.
Tickets in hand, Marcy and I waited with our peers at the left field entrance. The crowd was jovial to say the least. Before the gates were opened, we were lead in a singing of the famous baseball tune, "Take me out to the ballgame". This is where I love and hate being a ball fan in the city of Seattle; we're a city of folk that are way too laid back to take any sport to heart in an incredible nature. I say this while comparing the enviroment at other ballparks that I've seen games at. The mass of people pathetically singing the song recognized to be sung at the seventh inning stretch contained fans for the mariners and the A's alike.
Any other ballpark in any other city these people would be heckled to tears, which isn't the case here. During the song where it's sung, "...root, root, root for the home team..." it's become practice at Safeco, as in other stadiums to say the name of your home team, ie "Mariners", but the sad display of singing from the whole lot afforded the opportunity for a group of athletics supporters to scream, "OAKLAND!" and where you'd expect some boos and hisses from the home crowd, there were none present here. Like I had stated before, I both enjoy and dislike this fact, I mean, I don't enjoy seeing people beating the shit out of a game attendant because he supports the visiting team, but I enjoy some simply rivalry of the game.
We need to step that up here in Jet City.
Once the gates were opened, I got that all familiar young boy feeling of excitement as I climbed the stairs and peered onto the field for the first time of the season; glorious!
Marcy and I picked up the ballpark dog and a couple beers, a necessity for any game watcher in my opinion; we found our seats and basked in the sun, watching batting practice.
Now, I mean not to mislead anyone when I say the sun was out and shining bright, it's wasn't hot by any means. A brisk wind would occasionally whip through the stadium chilling both marcy and I almost to the point of being misereable; had it not been for the sun, it would've been just that.
Batting practice was over and you could see everyone on the field preparing for the very formal opening ceremonies.
It was at this time when something pretty bizzare happened. As we stood there in sun, holding ordinary conversation between the two of us, and some of the other mariner fans around us, I noticed a shadow moving across the field; the roof was closing!
Why they did this, I have no idea. But I can say what I do know, and that is that it got even colder than it already was. The opening ceremonies finnaly commenced and it wasn't nearly as impressive as I rememeber they were when I was knee high to a duck. Strangely, when they were over, the roof opened back up, and the sun was on our faces again, making us a little more happy about the day.
The game was good, so was the beer, the action primarily happened in the sixth inning when we were already up one to zero and Richie Sexson hit a three run homer to bring us to the games final score of 4-0.
It was your average ball game, it was great that we won and it's very nice to have this time of the year back again.
We did, however, got to see a fit in the standing room only area near the center field wall. Who knows what is was about, but a couple table were knocked over and plenty of beer was spilled, and I was fortunate enough to witness one of the fighter make contact with his opponents face.
Good game, good beer, great company; what more could a guy need on a april afternoon?
I do need to give a shoutout to the guy I saw wearing a sweatshirt from blogger dot com.

I just want a fucking pita

2007-03-26T12:55:00.000-07:00

I've got a great friend that answers to the name of Will. A very artistic man, he hosts parties at his wonderful loft for drinking and to encourage creativity.

(example, we'll drink bottles of wine and there will be sketch books passed around and you get two minutes each on the pad of paper to draw then you pass it on, and some very interesting drawings are created. One time, we had molding clay and we created sculptures)
Simply said, if you're a person that enjoys being spontaneously creative, then this is your kind of party.
This past Saturday, Will hosted such a gathering at his place; like clockwork, I arrived casually late with some friends in tow, in possession of some great beer. (New Belgium Springboard)
We entered to find that everyone was making little felt "ugly" dolls, cutting out designs and hand stitching them together. My inner creative child took over and I excitingly picked out a stencil and some off color pieces of felt.
We drank, we laughed, meeting new friends, catching up with old ones; and I created Tea Bag Terry. To describe terry, would do him no justice at all, he is an entity that you must experience. His front consists of grey felt while his back is of bright orange. His one eye is green with a cat like pupil that is red. His mouth is a simple rectangle that is fashioned from white thread. His edge thread is bright blue and, naturally, he's filled with the finest of pillow stuffing. (of course) What makes Terry unique is that he has, on his hind quarters a brilliantly sewn "X" from white thread that eloquently represents his asshole. To top it all off, he has two jingle bells hanging from his "underneath" to represent his "situation", which ultimately allows for him to teabag in the first place. Terry is a guy of pride and beauty. So much, that I've made up in my mind, that all the adventures I go on, I'm going to tote Terry along, and snap a photo of him. If I meet the first lady, Photo Op with Terry, if I go on safari and poach a baboon, photo op with Terry; you get the idea.
When all was said and done, and our group was ready to head out for further adventure, i.e. go the fuck home, it was decided along the way to swing by the glorious food stop rightly named, "Pita Pit".
True to their genius nature, they're open till 3am on the weekend, and rightly so, upon arrival, we weren't the only ones that had a hankering for some tasty food stuffs.
Entering the pit, wonderful smells smashing into our faces, only made our hunger much more evident.
This is when I saw him, and I got that feeling; some of you might know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about when you first see someone, you don't even have to know them, but the first impression you get from them, is that they're a complete bag of douche. This bucket of yuck stood about 5'5" and had, "I'm a drunken idiot" tattooed all over his person. I say this, not because I'm an excellent judge of character, but because he was walking around, strike that, dancing around with a cardboard synthesizer, complete with sharpie drawn detail. Now, I'm not one to judge for off the wall action, as I was carrying Tea Bag Terry, neatly tucked in the lapel of my sport coat. Immediately I loathed him, for reasons I don't even know, there was just something in the way he drunkenly swayed with his cardboard 80's pop music tool wearing his cheap, annoyingly designed dress shirt that made me want to hit him in the face with a shovel.
Back to the pitas.
So we order, and we wonder down to the section of counter where we inform what kind greenery we want in our pocket of deliciousness.
To give you a visual of the scenario, I'm standing at the counter, which has a right angle and is to my right, where my good friend Dan is standing, directly next to him is Liz, and next to her, Marcy. Douche face is meandering around while his wrongly dressed, fat girl counterparts snap photos of his idiocy.
The space between where I'm standing and the corner where Dan is waiting is maybe three feet. Lucky for me, the moron that I don't even know, but would still beat with garden tools find his way into the spot on my right.
Now it wasn't so much that he slipped into position there, but he found it necessary to get all up on my shit, as they say on the streets. The last time I had anything or anyone this close to me, it was because I asked her to, and we ended up doing the dirty.
Rightly so, I had a problem with this intrusion into my bubble. Realizing that it would probably be uncouth to turn and smack captain fuck face in the head with an open hand, I simply turned and asked, "You need something buddy?"
On a side note, it should be mentioned that when someone calls you buddy, and you're not their buddy, they're calling you this, not because they want to suddenly become friend; just the opposite, they most likely want to punch you in the face and call you names while simultaneously calling your mother foul things.
So, this character starts to ask me about Tea Bag Terry, "Is that a Pokemon in your jacket?"
Puzzled by what the fuck this jack ass is asking I simply can't ignore his inquiry.
"A, what? No, it's not, whatever you just said."
"Well, is it a pica... (I don't remember the rest of what he mumbled)?"
"No, pal (see side note on "buddy", same applies for "pal")" I pulled TBT from my jacket, "This is Tea Bag Terry, I've created him with these hands here, now if you mind."
"What kind of sewing machine did you use?"
"I didn't bro, I hand crafted this little guy on this very evening."
"You're full of shit, I can tell from the stitching."
"Okay buddy."
Now, I'm going to say, that I'm alright when it comes to hand sewing things, but I'm not, "sweat shop" material by any means and Terry looks in no way like was sewn tegether using a machine.
So, I cast homeboy aside, thinking that this is the end of the validity of Terry and how he was created; moving on to tell the nice lady behind the counter that I wanted lettuce, tomatoes, black olives and honey mustard on my chicken crave pita.
Contrarily, this beef isn't over with fuck stain, he turns to my friend, Dan, and pipes up,
"This guy's a poser. He says he handmade that thing"
Now, I know what you're thinking, wait... Poser of all things, of all places and to be "posing" for all people? Does he honestly belive that I want him, a complete douche bucket to think I'm so cool, that I'm going to lie to him, and of all things, about some crafty little doo da.
Dan simply tells the guy that he was in my presence when Terry was born, and that, yes, he saw me hand sew it. This, apparently, didn't sit well with him, so he moved on down the line, trying to find resolve with Liz, but was turned away unsatisfied.
It was said that I should have had Tea Bag Terry give him a proper Tea Bagging, but this ass of a person wasn't even worth that. Proving that, in this case, my judge of character was right on, and that I should probably carry around more shovels.
Stand by for pictures of TBT

Can we please take a moment.

2007-03-19T10:38:00.000-07:00

You see it all the time, namely at sporting events.
I, of course, am talking about, the moment of silence. Which, in my opinion is the most unneeded practice in the history of anything.
What's with people thinking that by gathering a large group of people, and getting them to shut the fuck up for a second, it's going to do a bit of good for anything or anyone?
Explain to me, that as I stand, hat removed, twiddling my thumbs, I'm positively affecting these people, that are already dead mind you.
The truth is, I came to see a baseball game, and yes, I'm aware that people have died, either serving our country or by some other God awful way, but it doesn't relate to why I'm here. Is the objective to make me feel bad for sitting in some ballpark, on a sunny summer afternoon, enjoying my beer and tasty hot dog, while others are losing their lives? Because frankly, it's not doing the trick.
I'm all for honoring those who are considered to be "fallen heroes", cause Lord knows, without heroes, we've got no one to fight off the villains; but for Christs sake, don't preach to me while I'm trying to get drunk and heckle the third baseman, you're really killing my buzz.
The whole idea is just stupid, and honestly, I can only see it getting worse. Imagine what they're going to do at the seventh inning stretch. After the traditional, inebriated hollering of "take me out to the ballgame", is the plan to then bring up Timmy Fitzgerald to present a slide show on greenhouse gasses and their affects on the o zone?
It's called America's past time for a reason, we, as Americans, know that the world has got problems, (to say the least) but the idea of past time, harnesses the very idea that this practice simply isn't ok. It's meant for us to be able to go out, have a beer and a dog, forget about the world, and watch some very overpaid, juiced up guy, whack at a ball with finely tuned pine without having to worry about what going on outside the park.
The other thing that bothers me is, what the hell are we supposed to be doing besides standing quietly? There's no direction whatsoever. There's no call to prayer, or for us all to think happy thoughts for the family, additionally, you can't call the masses to prayer at Safeco; we're here for Ichiro, not Billy Graham. But you get nothing in a way of direction, "let's have a moment of silence." Take silence for what you will, I mean, we all need some quiet time in our busy, over stimulated lives. So, why not whip out a crossword? Or a really good crime novel? Oh no! Lest we forget, our silence honors the dead.
How? I'd really like to know.
Instead of coming on the P.A. to declare, "We're now going to take a moment of silence to honor Bill O'Malley" it'd be better to have a sort of quasi eulogy, I'd almost prefer it.
"We're now going to honor the death of local hero, Bill O'Malley, some of his friends and family members wrote out a memoir which is printed in your program this afternoon, but they just wanted to just wanted me to tell you, that Bill was a stand up guy, a true Scorpio at heart, outstanding member of the community and he really loved a great pizza pie, that being said, let's get the game going. Play ball!"
This makes a lot more sense to me, let's me connect more with the dead; the announcement could even be followed up with a toast to good ol' Bill, and hell, why not, the majority of the stadium is drinking anyway, no ones going to refuse a reason to pour more fermented hops down their gullet. Gives the drinking a purpose.
Finally, I've noticed that things are moving away from, "A moment of silence." Last time I was at a ball game, the voice on the P.A. strictly informed us to remove our caps and stand, for we were about to have three minutes of complete silence for our fallen heroes in Iraq. Three whole minutes! I guess a moment isn't long enough; just a mere pause in reflection for the dead wasn't cutting it. Furthermore, is there some sort of regulation for the required amount of minutes a crowd should pause in silence according to the type of tragedy? Might there be some publication that has a chart that stipulates some sort of tragedy to minute(s) of silence waited ratio? I'm interested to know.
Any amount of time that you might have to wait, in order to recognize those that have died, "before their time" is too much. The reason we attend, is because our ticket says that the Mariners will be playing the As, not because we have information about a pre-event quiet time.
We need to do away with this silence bullshit, make it shorter, or something.
"Afternoon folks, before we start the game, let's take a moment to recognize those who have died tragically, for the country and what not. So, without further adieu, will you raise your glasses with me, for a toast: We live, we die, it's sad, but there's a game to be played."
Cheers.

Sneeze or get off the pot.

2007-03-13T10:08:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been sensing some lack of commitment from the nasal region of my face; I'm kind of baffled to say the least.
I am fully aware that spring is right around the corner, it would seem appropriate that my allergies start to act up. So, it should be expected of my sinuses to go all "out of whack", which they have, but they really haven't.
This is where I need some solid commitment from my nose. Five minutes ago I was all stuffed up, now I'm runny, and it's like that, back and forth throughout the day. Pick a side, any side; I can understand if you're half and half on the day; at noon switch over from runny to being plugged up, fine, take it in eight hour shifts, just please, commit to something for longer than three and a half minutes, stuffy face or runny nose, what's it gonna be?
I get it, my sinuses have ADD, they need constant change.
If that's not so bad, my nose can't decide when it wants to sneeze anymore. I've got a groundhog of a sneeze thing going on. It comes up to the edge of it's little hole, and I feel the twinge in the top of my nose, I physically prepare myself, remove my attention from anything else going on, and wait, but the sneeze then sees it's shadow, from the spring sun, on the ground and scurries back in, leaving me hanging, completely out to dry I might add. My nose, apparently celebrates groundhog day.
It's bad enough that allergy season has to come and fuck with us in the first place, now my glorious sinus system has added a great mind game by being completely undecicive and not commiting to any sort of allergic reaction. I just wish the pollen would come, so I get the fuck over the start of the season and get back to my regular breathing pattern.
I'm a simple man, with simple needs. I'm not asking for no allergies, I just want consitant ones.

I only understand to a point, then... no.

2007-03-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

The time is 10:39 and on the most popular news story list on the website for mass media specialist, CNN, the number four story is one covering the fact that Regis Philbin is having some sort of bypass surgery.
#@$!&*%
You're kidding me right? Why?!... Why!?!... Why!?
I get that some people have no life of their own, so they follow those of celebrities, but has it really come this far? Are the people who read these tabloid newspapers and people magazines graduating to actually media outlets like CNN? Not to mention the fact that CNN is actually hosting this kind of bullshit story, now, he could be having some sort of one in a million kind of surgery, I don't know, I didn't read the story, (didn't want to increase the popularity of it) and if that's the case, I'm with you, cover the story.
But I doubt it, in all honesty, if that was the case, they'd find some brilliant headline that reads better than: "Regis Philbin to have bypass". They'd make large posts about it, with streaming video and flash media with pop ups, "Regis Philbin to have spine transplant!" It's be quite a sight to see, but nothing like that went down, just bland ol' announcement and yet the public reacts in a way of complete need to know.
To think, this is only monday.

The almost certain death of the boxer short.

2007-03-07T15:03:00.000-08:00

I have every reason to believe that boxers are nearing extinction.
I am, a boxer brief man, now, I'm not going to claim that I always have been, because they always haven't been around, and I was strictly a boxer guy before the wave of populartity for the boxer brief. I can't even tell you how I became a boxer brief man, I couldn't give you an exact day or even month when I said goodbye to my longstanding friend, the boxer short. Why did I abandon them? What drove me to my new choice in underwear? That has yet to be determined, but I'm fairly certain that it has something to do with brilliant marketing schemes; seeing as this all happened beyond the scope of a peer pressure type of enviroment.
Contrarily, I remember the exact moment in my life when I switched from briefs. That time all revolves around my new friends, (at the time) Adam and Billy, and my new step father. As the new school year began, I found myself in a whole new enviroment; middle school was about something more than your teather ball average or how many free pizza hut pizzas you got by participating in "book-it". Life was now about getting the girls attention, and what better way, than to be out right cool. This new brand of cool was something totally unexpected, it threw off the chains that society had put on us in order to hold us back. This, somehow, was all centered around the boxer.
By saying no to the brief and yes to the boxer we denied the structure that our parents posed upon us. Boxers where not as restricting as briefs were, they didn't ride up your ass, and as the fashion trends were seeming to lean, sagging your pants looked down right rediculous while wearing anything but a boxer short. I remember being embarassed by the dwindling pairs of briefs I had in my drawer, that someone might break into my house just to check them to try to ruin my social standing at school. You'd have to be crazy to be sporting anything besides a cool pair of boxers in gym class unless you had no fear of the social punishment.
That's how it went, the sudden transition from breif to boxer, but that can't be said to be the same from the latter into boxer briefs. It's almost like we were all living with blindfolds to such an event, and we all woke up one day to find in our drawer that we were now wearing new kind of drawers.
The birth of the "metrosexual" is what I think started the trend for the boxer brief. It became commonplace for a man to be able to stand up for what he thought looked good for fashion and now had the capability to wear things like white shoes with a white sport coat. The death of the flowy baggy shirt/pant combination killed can attribute to the dying off of the boxer. It's not a desired look that much anymore for a man to wear very loose baggy clothes. Have you tried to wear a pair of boxers with a nice fitting pair of diesel jeans? It's just not happening, at least not comfortably.
JT is singing about bringing "sexy" back, and from what fasion tells us, the boxer brief is described under the terms of sexy. The boxer short never was a sexy article of underwear, unless of course a girl is wearing them in the morning after an all night sex romp, but that goes without being said. Boxers were more of the rebel bunch, the bad boy look, usually by the kids with pants hanging down too low, yelling out things like, "skateboarding is not a crime", they were never sexy. The worlds turning out to be pro sexy more and more, (well it's always been like for women) and that doesn't include the boxer short.
I do raise my glass to you old friend, boxer short; you had your moment, that's for sure. The uncompromised freedom you provided, the rebel heart that you granted us as we tossed out our instatutional brief, but the world always turns, and it turns to a tune of sexy now.
I'm not sad that it's happened, but I'm not necissarily happy, I've just happen to notice lately, in my purchases and that of the regular consumer. There are notable differences when you look at the shelves in your local department store, boxers are being run out, their numbers are dwindling and the presence of the boxer brief is on the rise. I'm neutral on the whole matter, I buy and wear whatever feels the best, and suits my needs for a pair of drawers, and that just happens to be a well designed boxer brief.
So for whatever reason, the death of the boxer short is coming, though they've almost found their spot with elder men, they don't have a place with the guys in the middle of our lives, for what reason, who knows. I'm just here to point out what I've been noticing.
Don't shoot the messenger.

Melting away the ice shelf, one obscenely large energy bill at a time.

2007-03-07T11:15:00.000-08:00

Most of us are aware of the movie titled: "An inconvenient truth". The reason for this is not because of constant film trailers interrupting the wonderful commercials from Lysol telling us we live in a world of filth and disease, (mainly carried by children). We're all privy to this films existence due to a self righteous national tour that cyber space "inventor", Al Gore took, showing the documentary to college students on various campuses.
Now, I've seen the film, and it's not just that is puts the fear of God into you, because as it describes we're bound for certain destruction as a planet if something isn't fixed; it basically makes you feel like shit for not living as Eco-conscious as Al does, (or at least, claims to).
As bad and scared as the film might make us, we really need to look at Gore with furrowed brows given this new story.
It's come to my knowledge that recently, in the private residence of one, Al Gore, they received an energy bill that was so high, wasting so much, it was actually equivalent to the energy cost of fifteen average American homes. How the fuck does that work?
He parades around the country, screaming out to our collegiate youth, "We're all living in environmental sin! We need change, and we need it now!" only to turn, and use that much energy for himself, Tipper and who ever else he's got shacked up in his abode. How can you seriously justify that? Oh, but you can count on Al to find away!
Apparently he buys carbon credits; well then, all is A-Okay Al! Bullshit!
This reminds me of something the Catholic church has been doing for years. With the right amount of money you can purchase what are called "indulgences", which basically means that the wealthy can go ahead, live how they want, sin like there's no tomorrow and maintain a clear conscious. Now, the Catholic Encyclopedia states that indulgences are NOT used as permission to sin, they are merely a sanction from the temporary punishment of God for particular sins; but, honestly, we're all smarter than that.
Equal to the rich Catholics, Gore, obviously has it in his mind that by possessing such carbon credits he can simply do as he pleases. Sure the environment is taking the punishment, but he means well. I mean, he did make a very informative documentary about how we're destroying our planet and took the time to tour it around the nation; this should mean that, with the purchase of the right amount of carbon credits he can use as much aqua net as he likes, or, if he wants to drive the largest, fossil fuel guzzling SUV on the road he can, right?
Come on! This is the typical attitude of Americans that the rest of the world hates, "Do as I say, not as I do". We're the only country in the United Nations that hasn't signed the treaty for a more environmentally sound earth. Nations that couldn't read the fucking document signed it, yet we didn't, because really, we can't revoke the right for the wealthy to drive Hummer 2s in places where they're needed; the "urban jungle". We wonder why people think Americans as pompous. Even if you don't plan on implementing laws to restrict the consumption of fossil fuels, you sign the document, plain and simple, you sign the fucking document. It's apparent that we're oil gluttons, but at least give the perception that we're trying.
If you make a movie like he did, you live to that standard, it's pretty black and white, with no room for grey tones.
The basis of what I'm saying is:
Don't show me a movie how the world is coming to an environmental end, because how I've been living so selfishly, in turn, making me feel like shit, (and whoever else saw they flick) then, live a life that completely nay says everything you just told me I should be doing.
I understand that you're wealthy and that you live in a sizable structure, but the same consumption of energy as fifteen American homes, to say that's excessive would be quite moot now wouldn't it?
You want to live in a certain lime light, then get your shit together Al.
You get your shit together.

Dr Bob: Or how I learned to stop hating and love the jello shot

2007-03-06T13:57:00.000-08:00

Here in the Jet City, [Seattle] in one of our districts known as Pioneer Square there is a club, popular to a certain demographic that I don't really care for. It's known as "Tiki Bob's Cantina" and it's popular for a variety of reasons. One) being it's location, downtown, it's located around a lot of other clubs and the marketing scheme they've come up with, is to have what is called "club stamp". The idea is that you pay one cover charge and you get into all ten of the clubs/bars downtown that are located on a map that you're handed if you answer "yes" when asked if this is your first time "doing the stamp". Two) They play all top 40 crap, and they throw in all the expected sights and sounds of a club that plays such music (annoying siren, strobe lights, women dancing on the bar, etc. etc.) Third) They host events that are mass marketed with associated radio stations, that include "pimps and hoes" night, "jello wrestling" and it goes on and on.
The problem with the place, at least in the eyes of myself and many of my peers, is that it only attracts the sort of people who quite frankly are annoying as shit. Namely the kids in their early collegiate years, most of the military nut jobs from the surrounding area, your run of the mill "suburban gangstas" who are usually white rich kids, and the out of towners looking to party that know nowhere else to go. The interior is one that shouldn't surprise, it's rightfully outfitted with poles and cages in which women can dance in and upon to try to seduce the gawking males waiting on the side in this dance till you drop meat market. Plus, we must not forget the cocktail "waitresses" traipsing the area selling jello shots which can be taken from their cleavage or mouth if they happen to lack the former.
Essentially this is what you get for social interaction when you arrive at this place:
these kind of brilliant dudes
with out forgetting these classy dames of course
"I'm so drunk right now! I don't need my top!"

Now, I realize that we've all been apart of that group at one time in our life, (well some is more accurate of a statement). But, as much fun as it could be living for these places it really becomes quite monotonous and very intellectually numbing, as well as musically.
I'm not about to turn my nose up to anyone because I realize we all find our place in society; this one in particular just isn't mine. Though it may appear to be loads of fun, and granted, it might be to some, the uber masculine males fighting to prove their place in the "pecking order" in front of the ladies gets old pretty quickly. Also, what's up with that creepy move that guys do; when they slowly start dancing up behind a "chosen" lady dancing with her friends? Then they're angry when this girl doesn't oblige? I'm not even a woman and I'm creeped out by this! But, I digress. Onto the reason of why I'm talking about this alcohol induced breeding ground.
A few months back, I decided to meet up with some long time friends who were visiting from out of town, (like I said, this is where they flock) and they chose to head to Pioneer Square, namely Tiki Bobs. Their reasoning is of course A) They believe themselves to me money smart and the whole "one cover for ten bars" is a "good investment". (It should be noted that they plan to attend no other bar on the circuit until one of them is kicked out for trying to fight, for no other reason than to just "throw down".) B)This is where the chicks are!
So, I'm called by my aforementioned friends who inform me that this is where they're going to party and I should definitely come down. I obviously opt to do so because I, enjoy catching up with old friends first of all, secondly I severely enjoy people watching and thirdly, I live for a good drink, specifically a grey goose greyhound.
I arrive at the club, to find my friends, one of which is about ten sheets to the wind, ordering another round of shots, seeing me, they inform me that it's now my responsibility to "catch up". I'm handed a couple shots of what I recognize to be "Irish car bombs". Throwing those back, I step to the bar to order my tasty greyhound when I notice that another long time friend is behind the bar looking adorable as can be, with her hair in braided pony tails, short shorts and snug bikini top. She sees me and lets out an ear piercing shriek of excitement and literally climbs over the bar to wrap her arms 'round my neck.
So, we catch up, talk about this and that, and how on earth she decided that serving at Tiki Bob's of all places would be a good idea. In her defense she retorts that while she dresses in a manner that flaunts her God given mammarous chest, she is tipped very heavily; her point is made.
She then insists that now that I know where she's working at, I'm required to come down and visit as often as possible, I eloquently respond with, "fat chance."
Now, apparently there is some sort of drawing that the masses can enter to win a free "vip party" at the cantina, meaning the winner and any number of their friends can come, get in free, and purchase drinks at half off between 8 and 11 on either Friday or Saturday night. This is something that makes sense, because when you fill it out, you most likely have to provide an email address at which they can then invade your life with junk mail talking about their up-coming event.
My friend Casey tells me about this, and I perceive that she's just providing more information than I actually need.
This, isn't the case.
Yesterday afternoon I get a phone call from a number that I don't recognize, and naturally, I don't answer. This unknown caller leaves a message and my phone promptly tells me so. I check it, and my ears are immediately bombarded with the voice of an extremely annoying bubbly voice. This girl is telling me that I've won a special "VIP" party at the wonderful, great and amazing, Tiki Bob's Cantina. I'm then informed that I need to call back, and that she'd love to schedule my party this Friday or Saturday because they're having some sort of party initiating their entertainment producers, [read: people with cameras taking photos of the inebriated having a "good time"] and it's sure to be a good time. I'm very sure.
So thank you to Casey for this possibly wonderful evening of orgasmic delight and jello shots taken from some 21 year old mammary crease.
Aren't I just the luckiest of fellows?

The complete irony of the elderly, driving in Florida.

2007-03-01T10:23:00.000-08:00

On our glorious mainstream news media website, CNN posted a video of the internals of a Florida DMV.
During this relatively quiet morning, an eighty year old woman crashes into the aforementioned DMV office. Spreading panic and an overall understanding as to why the elderly shouldn't be behind the wheel.
There are various items of hilarity in this occurance.
Hilarious? CJ, this was a motor vehicle accident! some of you might say; but just follow along with me.
The first item of hilarity is the obvoius; this woman actually crashes into the department of motor vehicles. The only thing I could think of that would be equally hilarious, if it was a teen that had done the office plowing during a driving test to aquire their license.
Amother of course, includes the question pertaining to the elderly, and if they should be behind the wheel after a certain age; I guess now we know. Many of many favorite comics have touched on this topic, namely one, Jerry Seinfeld. He talks about how the elderly drive, (specifically in the sunshine state) "drive slow, sit low" he says should be the state motto with the flag being a simple picture of a steering wheel with two sets of knuckles and the top of a head. The wiser elders of our nation really don't drive in a way that reflect an attitude that would grant the respect that we're told we should give them merely because they're quite older than we are. It's as if they drive with no regard to what's around them, coming into your lane without looking, crossing multiple lanes of traffic, blindly to make an illegal right turn; you see it all the time, and frankly it's long overdue for something to be done about this.
The third and final item is one of absolute irony, the fact that this happened in Florida, the state which is famous for retirement communities and the slow driving elderly, and this answers the former question with a resounding answer that, "Yes, after a certain age, you probably shouldn't be driving." Granted, if this had happened in say, California it'd be funny, and would answer the say question in the same way, it but wouldn't carry the irony that this incident does.
These members of our "Greatest Generation", need to realize when enough is really enough, and the exclimation point on that, is when you have eighty year old women driving straight into buildings, namely, ones that regulate our citizens operating motor vehicles.
So, when that age is reached when you find it necessary to move to the extreme heat to live in your extremely air conditioned, gated community condo, you should be forced to trade in your car keys and drivers license for a set of shiny white walking shoes and copius amounts of cardigan sweaters, to combat the bad driving habits that you posess.
It should be noted that no one was injured during this accident, hence my commenting on the humor of it all.

Comfort in the keys

2007-02-28T21:18:00.000-08:00

Upon arriving back at home, after being away too many days, (OK, just a week) I realized all those little things that I missed and took advantage of when I was away from where I reside.
I'm speaking of course, specifically of my wonderful keyboard.
Now, it's nothing really special to the naked eye. In fact, the "a" and the "z" stick because I accidentally spilled chocolate milk on the keys once. But to me, it's the greatest keyboard in the world!
The reasons are pretty simple.
Like a well worn Birkenstock, my keyboard is perfectly formed to my hands and fingers. Needless to say, all I have to do is move my fingers and my appendages and keyboard become as one, effortlessly typing out my desired words. Basically, what's happening right now.
Being away from it for any amount of time, I realize how well I'm treated here at home. I go off and spend time with other keyboards, and while it's fun, new and exciting; it's not familiar, my hands don't quite know how to set on the keys, and when typing I get rogue letters popping in.
Now, that I've arrived back at home, all is well, and I notice this as I happily type away content as a clam.

Some like it hot, while others like it in a 4 inch stiletto, when some just prefer to be tied to a grave

2007-02-28T09:46:00.000-08:00

While sitting, enjoying an overcast afternoon, here in the Pacific Northwest, I was listening to an absolutely ridiculous show on some popular alternative FM station. You know the type, all they play is that new "rock" that all sounds the same. [read: creed, puddle of mudd, nickleback, etc] They have those annoying radio hosts that think of themselves as hilarious, when they shouldn't. The kind that when they're having a contest to drink as much water as possible to win a video game system, and when someone calls in to warn them that you can actually die from doing this, they laugh, because they're idiots. These are the fools that are now on the air; granted had I been in my own home, I would've turned it off, actually, I take that back; it wouldn't have even been on in the first place. However, I'm at a friends house and he is actually listening to these guys, out of habit I guess.
So, they bring on the air, their newest roommate, a guy they refer to as either, "Joe Joe" or, "Joe mama"; quite clever indeed. Well, they start to talk about fetishes, for whatever reason, I haven't the foggiest. They do have some sort of documentation that they claim they'll be sharing with all of us, eager listeners; my interest is piqued only a touch. They discuss among themselves their own fetishes, and they claim to be ass men, one's a boob man, etc. While these hardly qualify as fetishes by any means, the rant incessantly about it; but I digress.
They finally get to this publication of a poll taken here in America. As it turns out, 47% of the American population, admit to having a fetish with feet. I'm a little put off by this, but yet, for some reason, I'm not all that surprised. I can't really place a finger as to why I'm not, I'm just... not.
One of the guys in the booth actually admits that this is one of his, to which they turn to mock him a bit.
Now, I can kind of see where he's coming from, but it only goes so far. I appreciate a girl with a good looking foot. I don't like them too big, hairy, or having any sort of overall funk. There's a line though, they, in no way, turn me on. I don't come close to any sort of orgasmic delight when I see in a girl in a knee-high boot or 5 inch stiletto. From what these radio morons are telling me, they actually have pornographic web sites that focus on this idea of "foot fetish". Give me a girl with a nice looking foot, and we'll leave it at that. Does she have the right feet to wear a good sandal? Yeah? Well that's good.
So, of course they have to open up the phone lines, to hear from their listeners what it is that get their juices flowing; I can only image. The majority of people after the excitement settles of them reaching their dream of actually getting on the air, finalize that they just like sex, and that they don't really have any special fetishes; what a waste of a phone call.
Another caller is systematically brought on the air, and he confesses that, what really makes it for him, is when he has a larger woman walk and jump on his back. I just hope that he has a good chiropractor. The next caller brought on, offers up what I think is the probably the most disturbing thing I've heard of in at least a month. This girl, is only 20 years old, and I think, "What, possibly could this kid offer up that would spark the public interest?", of course I'm proven wrong. She goes on to tell all of us listeners that she's from the south, (this clues me into the fact that she's about to say something pretty fucked up.) Louisiana in fact.
In case you didn't know, down in the hurricane state, as I like to call it, they live either at or below sea level, so when they bury their dead, they don't really bury them, they place them in above ground cement coffins. Now you know this, this girls fetish can be properly illustrated in your mind.
She says, that, the only way she can climax, is when her lover, and she didn't specify man or woman, actually chains her to a grave site, whips her, then violently fucks the shit out of every hole in her body. (she was censored on the air, but I'm free to swear as often as I like)
The silence after she stopped talking was of such awe that I think I doubted that this girl was for real. Knowing my friend was listening in, I screamed out, "YES!!! I finally found a girl that's into my kind of shit!"
My questions of course are:
How in the hell did you find out this is what really does it for you? How do you do that kind of experimentation? Do you get laughed at a lot when you inquire to prospective lovers if they'd do this to you? Or is it that they just run away in the other direction?
Wow.
So hearing this, I naturally start to think of people I know that are into some kinky stuff. I've had sex with women that like it rough, and all that kind of sexual goodness, but nothing too crazy. The most I could come up with from my personal experience was this one girl that liked to be choked, which I had heard of before she asked me to, well told me to during coitus, so I wasn't all that surprised so it didn't throw me off too much; and there was another one that didn't like to be choked, she liked to be punched and slapped in her face. Needless to say, it was at the juncture, when they sprung these likes on me that, I became immediately flaccid.
The only other story that isn't quite as disturbing as the graveyard girl but disturbing nonetheless, is from a friend of mine in regards to her ex boyfriend. Apparently he told her that his fetish was women that smoked, so occasionally she'd put on some kinky lingerie and pop in a menthol and they'd go at it. The funny part is, she was only put off by this, when he confessed to her, that during one point of an episode they just had, he was thinking of a beautiful girl that was smoking at a party he had seen that previous weekend in order to "finish up". She was disturbed/angered by this, cause, apparently, she's the only one that can blow sexy smoke in her mans face. Interesting perspective.
So, from all of this, I'll probably never be able to look at cemeteries or stilettos the same.
Damn perversion.

Pretend like you know the world for a moment.

2007-02-27T15:03:00.000-08:00

I'm going to start off with this post and say that, I'm in no way condoning the actions of which I'm going to talk about, I'm simply wondering why these girls are so surprised.

In the small town of Green Castle, Indiana there is an University, and on the campus, on the traditional, "Greek Row", stands a sorority house properly named Delta Zeta.

The report on CNN talked with some former members and it was a general consensus on campus that the girls of the house weren't that attractive or desirable, so the nick name of the "Dog House" was placed to the Greek organization.
Now, looking at the Greek system like a business, which it is. They focus there attention on getting more people to "rush" and then, join their house, and they do this, by presenting an image that makes incoming freshman want to join up. They host fun parties, and socials and they're basically all, fun, attractive, popular people. They point out that once you're in the Greek system you automatically have a sizable amount of friends, and to most undergraduates, this is one thing that is of most importance at this juncture of their lives. With the obvious intent of the house, and a bad reputation of being not that good looking, it's not at all surprising what Delta Zeta did; sad, but not surprising.
The head women for this Delta Zeta house under direction of the board members of the sorority, told their members to go out and drink more, being more social and to be more sexually desirable. Additionally, some of the girls, while others were hosting some possible recruits downstairs, in the campus home, were told not to come down or to be out of the house.
Eventually a letter was sent to 23 members telling them that they will be let go for not meeting, "standards for recruitment". Thus, their status was changed from active member to alumna, and they were told they had to move from the house.

After all the girls had moved, some former members told CNN that only the pretty, slim girls were allowed to stay, and the three interviewed women filed a complaint with the university.

Like I stated previously, I don't agree with the Delta Zeta house, and I do feel sorry for the 23 girls, but really, do they not know of the superficial monster they've been dealing with? Did they really think that sororities are all about equal opportunity? These girls are complaining that they've been removed from the organization because of the obsession with image; well duh.

From the time we enter the educational institution, popularity and how others view us becomes ridiculously important. This is the entire reason people develop things like eating disorders and, why peer pressure exists, to have the outward appearance of being cool. To think that this would change because you're at college level is simply ludicrous.

It's unfortunate yes, but it's also stupid that these "rejected" girls go on television and complain about how they'd been discriminated against.

Yes, it's agreed that how things turn out is unfair; we're all with you. But, you can't, for on moment believe that being in a sorority is about anything other than being "cool" or to simply belong. Many people rush different houses, and they don't get bids, it happens, people just find their own niche.

For the rest of our social lives, there will always be the different classifications and stereo types, you can't fight at all, certainly not by going on CNN and crying that some girls don't think you're "pretty enough".

Take for example, all the famous movies that follow collegiate youths that don't fit into the main stream "norm", Revenge of thee Nerds, H.O.T.S., and the one filmed at my old school, Animal House.

They show that, yes, the Greek system is one that is very superficial, and opinionated, but when you chose to place yourself in the seat of judgement by your, would be "Greek" peers, and when you're turned away with hurt feelings, disagreeing with the judgement that you literally asked for, you have no room for argument, or bitching for that matter.

In conclusion, yeah, it wasn't right for the sorority to boot these girls out, because they're "maintaining a superficial image", but can you really expect anything more from a system that is based solely on the popular youth, and what the mainstream says is "cool"?

Yes, the Greek system is filled with the beautiful and the popular, and they only accept those that are like them, this is because the majority of them don't have any character beyond the traits just mentioned and are severely narrow minded, so, when you don't fit into their mold, don't bitch, just aim not to be like them. Stand up for the people that are genuine, with no complaint that the shallow don't approve.

I'm afraid that my cell phone isn't smart enough for me.

2007-02-27T09:13:00.000-08:00

Most cellular telephones these days, have the capability to anticipate what it is that I'm going to say, when composing a text message.

However, I've noticed lately, that when it is I'm trying to converse with my friends in the least personable way; via text message, my phone simply can't keep up.

What I'm talking about it this:

Say for instance, I hit the keys, 9, 4, and 3. My phone will automatically assume that the letters corresponding with those numbers that I want to use are w, h, and e. What happens next is, the intellect of the phone will try to anticipate what it is I'm going to type out, or guess the final word that I'm trying to spell. In this case it would read: "whe" and highlighted behind it will he a "n", spelling "when", to which I have the option to scroll through other options spelling different words, "re", to spell "where", and you get my point.

My frustration comes in at the point when I'm trying to type out words that are used normally by myself, but, obviously scramble my phones little nano brain. For instance, I was typing last night to a friend, and I attempted to type out, "reciprocated." So I type in the corresponding numbers; 7, 3, 2, 4, 7, 7, 2, 2, 8, 3, 3. The request to my response is one of complete idiocy. My phone has no idea what I'm trying to say, at all. So, what it presents to me is a jumbled, mixture of letters that I have no use for. Causing me to take the time and hit each key the appropriate amount of times to spell out the word my phone doesn't know, like we're stuck back in 1999.

Now, I think I'd be a little more understanding if this was a first time for the phone. I mean, we all have our bad days with literacy. Days, when you type out a simple word like: stereo, or ravioli, and it just looks wrong, so you grab a dictionary, only for it to mock you with your brainless inquiry.

If that was the case, sure, no problem, phone, you just can't keep up today.

But it's not, countless times I've tried to spell simple to comprehend words, like inebriation, or legitimate, and I'm always met with a jumble of the wrong letters in the wrong order.

Is it so much to ask to have a phone that is on the same level as you are intellectually? I guess Motorola has deemed it necessary to give the razor a spelling level of an eighth grader.

This just goes to show that technology can be smarter than we are, but only to a point.

I will say, to the credit of my phone, that before it met me, it's computer mind wasn't littered with vulgarities. In the past, when I had attempted to swear via text, it had no idea what it was I was trying to say. In a sense, my phone was a naive little second grader that giggled when I would say "poop", and still believed in Santa Claus.

Time's taken its course, so now, when it is I punch in the corresponding numbers, my phone automatically knows that I'm trying to tell my friend, "Fuckin' A."

Basically, my phone can swear, but not spell words more than seven letters long.

My phone is a teenager.

Spring Cleaning

2007-02-26T14:22:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've found more and more reason to open up the proverbial closets of my life and donate that which I don't need any longer, to charity.

Now, specifically, I'm not speaking of actual junk in my closet, and that's probably obvious; I digress.

Few and far between have been the moments in my life when I've looked at those around me and wondered, just why they're there. Not to say they live in a way that's morally remiss, just that, they're really not that great of friends.

One of those moments, I've recently, stumbled into, thus, my taking action.

I must admit, as it has been sad, in the past, to literally, bid, some of the people that have lived in my daily life, adieu; that hasn't been the case here. I've already started the process of removal, and to state the obvious truth; it feels great!.

I mean not to say this, to come across as if I "make cuts" like I'm your local high school football team. Scanning the list for the teams "weakest link." This is simply not the case. There just comes a point when you realize that your relationship with any chosen person is no longer mutual. No more do they offer any sort of stimulus, they simply drain from your life the enjoyment you were once having in times previous.

I'm actually pretty ashamed to admit that this house cleaning has been needed for some time, and, to break the camels back, the final straw is the fact that, when I've confided in unnamed, third party friends on some of the matters, I'm asked things to the effect of, "Why do you even know this person?".

I can take a hint.

As it applies in all cases, I'm happy to free myself of the child-like tantrums of passive aggression, and the over all, irrational behavior that you so ignorantly flaunt, thinking of yourself as self righteous.

So, without further delay...

You know where the door is, and, I actually hope it hits you on the way out.

Sub par? Now that really doesn't make sense.

2007-02-23T07:48:00.000-08:00

This statement has been used by people nationwide; I've even let it slip from my lips. But, I've got to tell you, it makes no sense in the world to me.
With all understanding of this, commonly used wording, calling something "sub par", is saying that it's no good, not up to standard and what have you.
So, here's my problem:
Par, means, average, the score that you judge your performance by, while playing golf.
Many sports metaphors are used all over the place, scattered randomly in our lives. In fact, I've heard it muttered, "We're par for the course on this current deal." Meaning, basically, we are where we should be at, or on the right track, all caught up; any of those really.
There are many others, but I lack the desire to list and explain them all right now, possibly, ever.
Moving on to the specific one of this blog, and the one I have a problem with.
"Sub Par"; I know you're trying to imply that something was of low performance, but, in all actuality, you're really stating the contrary.
My arguement is simple, while you can us the statement, "sub par" to answer two seperate questions, implicating two seperate meanings.
Question one:
"How, was your game of golf the other day? What'd you end up shooting?"
"Sub par"
Question two:
"What do you think of Johnston's performance with the Sherman account?"
"Sub par"

Now, I'm all for using sports metaphors, in all walks of life, but I really believe that this one should be taken out of use, retired, cast aside or what have you.
What are you really trying to tell me when you say, sub par?
Good, bad? What?
To break it on down; "sub par" is mostly used to describe something bad, and I don't agree.
Here's why:
Par, being the average at which you grade yourself in golf, and the score, in golf, is tallied to where being in the negative is actually positive. Because, as those of you that play golf know, you count how many times you swing to hit the ball. Thus, smaller the number, better the score.
So, the metaphor of sub par is really saying, job well done, because being below par is exactly what you're trying to do. So to get your point across you should rightfully say, "Plus par", but that doesn't really sound that good.
Now, I know the your intention when using this phrase is innocent, really. But stick to ones that really make sense; a "fumble" or "getting to second base", these are all good to use.
But the current one up for review is no good, it sends mixed signals; at that's something that's not acceptable when dealing with sports metaphors.
So, it should be stated, that from here on out, "sub par" will only be used to discuss your good game of golf... and it will having nothing to do with the bad performance with the Johnson account.

Pee tests, Uncomfortable conversations, and the over useage of the word "fuck"

2007-02-22T11:24:00.000-08:00

In my place of employment, they like to have pop quiz like tests of the urine, this of course is to deter people from using illegal substances, as it's not tolerated. It would only seem appropriate for this occur in the office next to mine, as Murphy's law would so obviously point out.
This affords me the opportunity to do what I love best; people watch/listen in on conversations I have no place hearing.
While people lining up to mandatory volunteer their "sample", they, decidedly, engage each other in conversation. Now, I'm not about to stand here, (actually sit, quite comfortably) and say that I'm not a person that swears; sometimes the best punctuation for a comment is a strategically placed piece of verbal trash.
As, a child, it was described to me, due to my inquiry of certain words I wasn't accustomed to, (fuck, shit, etc. etc) after spending some time with friends who's parents had garbage cans of a mouth. My parents gracefully told me about these words and their meanings, describing that while they should be used only by adults, they also made me aware to the fact, that some people chose this style of vocabulary due to their lacking knowledge of how to properly express themselves. Quite understandable if you ask me.
So, as I sit and listen in on the "jawing" going on in the hallway, I can't help but take note at the two gentleman, "catching up". The one is describing to the other what's been going on in his life, as they haven't seen each other in some time. He describes an unfortunate situation to say the least.
To summarize: domestic violence, 100 thousand dollar bail, two felonies, and the local law enforcement taking away all his firearms. Whether he disclosed how all of this came about, I have no idea; but what I do know, is that somehow, he was acquitted of the charges. He's rambling on, telling the tale of when we was actually taken into custody, the details really aren't that important as it is the way he chose to express himself; in what, could be easily documented as the over usage of the word, "fuck". From what I picked up, (now, I'm going to directly quote him here, and I'm in no way exaggerating) he was, "On the fucking phone with my fucking mom, and these fucking cops kept driving my fucking house, and I'm telling my mom, 'If these fucking cops don't stop fucking driving by my fucking house.' and my mom's is fucking like, 'Well they probably want to talk to you son.' So I'm like, 'Well they better not fucking kick down my brand fucking new door or they're gonna have a fucking fist fight on their hands.'. So these fucking cops were offended with this somehow, cause they were fucking listening in on my fucking phone call, fucking assholes, and they drove around the block, so I go out to get my fucking my mail, and I put a handgun in my belt, cause no body's gonna fuck with me! So, I turn around and these fucking cops are on my fucking porch, and I'm like, 'Fuck, what do they fucking want?' in my head ya know? So they draw their fucking guns on me..."
You can pretty much imagine how the rest of this profanity littered conversation goes. So, while I'm sitting here, thinking to myself, "Does this guy hear himself swearing so much, and why doesn't someone say something?".
I'm not sure about the rest of the world, but I've had people like this, traipse in and out of my life, and the last person I knew that used the "F" word so loosely, and quite annoyingly, I simply let him know. Now, I didn't come out and flatly say, "Hey, your mouth filth is getting annoying and I find myself losing intelligence as you speak." I simply started to count, out loud, the times he swore while he conversed with me; the numbers were in high amounts to say the least.
Eventually he got tired of this, and slowly, the swearing trickled off.
I've never been that kind of person, and I don't see myself becoming "that guy", whom, at which you must cover the ears of children whenever he opens his mouth. But, if in fact I do, I hope that someone around me would, "fucking open their fucking mouth and just fucking let me know.".
This whole, "pee test episode" didn't just provide me with that interesting occurrence, oh no.
The regulations for providing a sample and quite extensive as they don't want anyone cheating. (There are products available with names like, "the wizzonator" that allow you to take either stored urine or that of someone else and hide it on your person while dispensing the said urine from a tube that you strategically place, and some even have adaptors that hold quite a penile resemblance.)
So, when you go to provide, you give your id, proving in fact that it's you that will be providing, then you take a bottle, look in it, don't blow in, or stick your fingers in, then you replace the cap, holding it in plain view of your assigned "observer" and make your way to the restroom. The observing person is there to watch you to prevent the use of the aforementioned "wizzonator". So as you micturate into your approved container, this person watches you. As if that isn't an awkward enough situation for any person, especially those that have public urination problems; I'm in a stall, down the line in the same bathroom and I hear the following take place:

Provider: "So, I haven't seen you around the office in a while."
Observer: "Yeah, the wife and I were on vacation. Pees looking a little yellow, you need to drink more water."
Provider: "I don't drink a lot of water, I'm more of a Gatorade guy, myself."
Observer: "For the electrolytes?"
Provider: "Yeah, and it actually has a taste."
Observer: "That's true."
Provider: "Yeah."
Observer: "Yeah, that's probably enough."

I'm not sure if every one's like me, but I find it awkward to have completely, generated conversations, out of some sort of obligation, with people that I don't know all that well: Taxi cab drivers, checkers at the grocery store, people I sit next to on an airplane; even people I work in the same office as.
I'm not one to generate a complete surface level conversation with someone that I've never seen before, and most likely never will, (outside of the grocery store person, maybe).
It could safely be said, that a conversation with a person watching me urinate into a bottle, would be completely out of the question. Who are these people? Is it weird at all, or am I just some off kilter son a gun, walking around, completely out of the loop?
I think there are certain social boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, not that having someone watch you pee is an everyday occurrence in our social lives.
This situations is, in my mind synonymous with striking up conversational jibber jabber with the fellow you're standing next to in any bathroom. In all my public restroom experiences in my career as a person, the environment is a silent one; I don't even talk to people I know while relieving myself. My policy is, "get in, do your thing, get out."
Maybe I'm a little narrow minded, and I should branch out. But this is just my opinion. Next time, I guess, if I find myself having the opportunity for some unacquainted "urinal talk", I'll take it.
I should probably start of with something positive, like a compliment, something like, "Hey, nice watch."

Apple vs Cisco

2007-02-12T09:59:00.000-08:00

Since the announcment of Apple's iPhone, there's been some buzz of controversy from the offices of Cisco.
The word is that, Cisco owns the trademark on their own version of something they have named iPhone. They took possesion of the TM after purchasing a company called Infogear Technology. I've recently read a blog from Cisco, and they state that they've been shipping their iPhones since last spring.
Question: Where are these phones?
They also have said that serious talks where going on between apple and cisco about sharing the trademarked name of iPhone. Hoping to have two seperate products with the same trademarked name. This was, of course, before apple made the launching announcement.
This entire blog from cisco claims that the lawsuit being filed against apple has nothing to do with royalties or money, and to that I say, "pah!".
Now, I'm in no way siding with Apple for going beyond the limits and taking it upon themselves for using the trademarked name. But in an argumentative manner for Apple it can be clearly noted that Apple, since the release of the first ipod, (October 23rd, 2001 is when it was first revealed) that the lower case i followed by a capitolized noun have been known to the public to belong to apple.
For cisco to parade around claiming nobility in the mere desire to protect it's trademark, (which they have all right to, and I commend them on trying to) almost assumes the general public is lacking intelligence.
They lost us with their disingenuous and facile proclamations about "openness". To be blunt -- to the world at large, iPhone has always meant Apple. Cisco doesn't even own the domain "iPhone.com".
By insisting on "interoperability" of the products as their price, Cisco was attempting to use an asset it didn't create (i.e. the name "iPhone") as a means by which to leverage access not only to Apple's design and technological advantages but also its obvious marketing savvy.
The truth of the matter is that they shoved a piece of junk out the door weeks before the Apple launch to establish claim to an otherwise dormant trademark and provide a basis for damages in the eventual suit.
I see all of this not as some company with an innovative idea being steam rolled by the larger technologically creative company, but some cheesy ploy to get in on the iPhone buzz already created by the marketing geniuses of apple.

Just trying to stay security conscious

2007-02-12T08:24:00.000-08:00

Now, I just may be an asshole, well, I am an asshole, so my saying all this really makes sense.

We all, from time to time, bitch about our jobs; boredom, the fact that it might be supremely dead ended, or the fact that the weird guy named Marty, spends way too much time in the break room, but I have yet, until this morning, heard someone complain about the exact nature of their job. Mainly, because when someone starts to formulate this kind thinking they simply switch their fucking career.
It's for this reason that I have a severe urge to walk into our, female janitor occupied restroom and proverbially bitch slap the whine out of them.
Now, I'm privy to the fact that man can be quite disgusting, especially when it comes to bathroom habits. I think we (and I mean us guys here) have all encountered a scenario when, upon entering any random ca mode stall, and take in the sight and smell of what's laying right in front of us, un-flushed, we promptly exit the way we came in.
I hold myself as a person with a strong grasp of common sense. So, as a little guy, deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up, shit cleaning janitor wasn't one of them, for the aforementioned reason. That being said, I took the necessary steps to avoid finding myself standing in front of a waste filled bowl, grasping tight the brush I hold in my rubber gloved hand.

Taking a couple steps back, you have to assume that the ladies, that are presently cleaning the very spot we lay our waste, had to be informed, at some point of their life, that cleaning bathrooms for a living, would also include having to look at some things our bodies reject in the un-prettiest manner. That being said, they knew what the fuck they're getting into the day they started the job. In addition to that, they really have to room to bitch about their job and the well known unpleasant chores they're tasked with, especially no where near my office door, because it severely interrupts my schedule of reading random, "making the work place more security conscious", emails and counting down the minutes till I leave for lunch.

So, the to the janitorial staff...

In the long and the short of it, next time you open your mouth to bitch, stop, take a minute and think to yourself, "what kind of measures did I employ to prevent my life to take a turn to clean up shit for a living?". When you answer yourself with, "nothing, really." Go ahead and shut the fuck up... and check my trash can, cause I think it needs emptied.

Gay Bashing?

2007-02-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

Among the relatively, not entertaining ads this super bowl was the man on man snickers commercial. Now, I wouldn't classify this commercial as hilarious, but it does make one chuckle.

Monday morning, post super bowl, I'm on my computer in my office, reading what our media has to offer for news. I raise my eyebrow at a particular headline: "candy company defends it's ad campaign.". Interested, I click the link which, in turn opens a separate window allowing for a video to load.

The reporter comes on, describing what the gay and lesbian community would call gay bashing, Demanding the Mars corporation remove their ads from their website, in which they complied. More was discussed on the topic, from the view to local interviews. A blog was posted on cnn's website asking the public what they thought, and I was shocked to read that a stupid amount of people agreed in favor of the removal.

Now is this really gay bashing? Two men, trying for the same snickers bar, in a lady and the tramp fashion accidentally kiss, and they fear their manhood is compromised; so they rip out their chest hair to prove that masculinity reigns supreme once again.
If anything, this is average overly testosteronal male bashing. It is chiming in on the fact that most men fear so much what the world thinks of them, that to appear gay is the scariest thing to face. Really this just pokes fun at these men, yes they're narrow minded, not really self assured, and yes, they're not really that bright. I have many homosexual friends, and they weren't offended by this, they simply sighed a breath of empathy for the "typical neanderthal straight male", whom the commercial is really bashing.
It wasn't a slap in the face to the gay and lesbians, exclaiming, "You're not normal! You're not normal!" It's an admittance at how narrow minded the people of little America can be.

I think the hurt feelings and the law suits should be put away, and face the facts, we're a society of opinion, mine vs yours. I, as a straight man, wouldn't like to kiss another man, and that's fine, and in the same token, a homosexual man wouldn't like to kiss a woman, and that's fine for him as well.

What needs to be realized, is that many human rights have been fought; against segregation, then woman's rights, now gay rights. While whatever group is taking a stand to be viewed as equals, when something happens that some members of your group doesn't like, ie: the candy bar commercial, you don't bitch, you don't moan. All that does for your case is show that you want special treatment. Our country thrives on judging one against the other, from brands of toilet paper to presidential candidates; we're, obviously getting to where we judge one sexual orientation against the other, and in order to equal... it has to be okay.

hooha? are you serious?

2007-02-08T10:49:00.000-08:00

Like every afternoon, I sit here at my office computer updating my where-with-all by reading and watching videos on the website of a large media outlet, cnn.
I've recently learned that, in Florida, a theatre bearing the name of: "the Atlantic Theatre", hosting the vagina monolouges; a funny, clever production.
Last week, a local was driving by in her car, and viewed the marquee, with her niece in the back of her car. Now, her neice, capable and reading and expression, saw the marquee, and questioned her aunt. "What's a vagina?", the little girl inquired. See, apparently this offended this woman, having to answer this question is way to obsurd! How dare the topic of our body be discussed with family members!
So in retaliation, the disgusted aunt called the noted theatre to complain; demanding that the title be changed.
Rather than laughing at the woman, the theatre obliged, and informed the lady that it would be changed. The managerial staff, took a couple days brainstorming on what to re-post as the title of the upcoming production of the monologues; arriving, finnaly on the "hooha" monologues.

First I'd like to address just how narrow minded this woman is. Is it such a disgusting thing to have to discuss with your young, blossoming neice the parts of her body, since you do, of course, have the same funcitoning parts. Is this woman going to go to the ultimate stretch to call companies that produce health books and ask them not to cover the sexual parts of the body? Where is the line exactly? When and how do you draw this said line in the sand? In my personal opinion knowledge is the key. When I was just knee high to a duck, I remember my parents reading my a book talking about where babies come from and how it happens. This, in turn lead me to not become of those curious kids with up tight parents, forcing me to explore my body myself, using my equally green to the world peers. I had the understanding of "how it all works" and frankly when I was young, it kind of scared the tar out of me. I had a rough time asking the girls in my class to play teather ball, let alone asking them to engage in sexual congress.
I think that's part of our problem as a country really. We don't properly educate our chilren about the stuff they really need to know about. So, they have to find out for themselves, in their own, curious dumb nature.

Now, secondly; what's with the theatre? How can they sit there and actually take the complaint and change the name of a national production? Are we becoming that much of a spineless, "sue-fearing" country that when some, unreasonable person comes to us telling us to move, we jump? I could see their reasoning if the production had just opened, for the first time, EVER and only in some local venues. People, the vagina monologues are played nationwide, many marquees have bore the proper title and I'm sure this spark many nieces to ask the question about what a vagina is. The rest of us haven't gone crazy with a need to change the title.

On a final note, the name, "hooha" was chosen. Now, it might just be me, but that title or nickname, if you will, is very degrading. We teach young girls to respect their bodies, some title even their virginity as a flower. How much does this discredit all of what we've told these adolocent girls? If you've ever seen the play, the title really isn't befitting.

In conclusion, I find the whole situation sadly pathetic. It's not the theatres or the countries fault for that matter, that this woman and the family haven't properly educated their up and coming generations, and additionaly find it repulsive to have to do so. Some of us should really look into pulling our ultra conservative, narrow minded, scared of the actuality of life, heads from our proverbial rear ends.