I've said it before and I'll say it again, Girlfriends may come and go but a trophy is forever.

When fantasy sports and dating collide remember that you should never be left out of the playoff hunt.

So I've spent more time debating whether trading Danys Baez for a 7th round pick than where I'm taking Date out to tonight doesn't mean that I'm not that into her, just that a man needs to have priorities.

Sure, everyone has made the unfortunate mistake of putting their energies into what some would consider trivial. As I've noted before, my fantasy baseball team lead to a half letter-grade swing downward in my design class and the premature demise of a past relationship, but you gotta give 110% and when your back is against the wall take it one game at a time. Because no one wants to be the laughingstock of their fantasy league. I know it's old hat by now, but the phrase "I'll take David Robinson," will forever be comedy gold.

Dear Apollo, I've never really asked much of you, but anything you can do this weekend would be great. Thanks, Mike

Here Comes The Sun
by George Harrison

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
Little darlin' it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darlin' it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
Little darlin' the smiles returning to their faces
Little darlin' it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes
Little darlin' I feel the ice is slowly meltin'
Little darlin' it seems like years since it's been clear
Here come the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it's all right
Here come the sun, here comes the sun
It's all right, it's all right

Frankly, I'm sick of it

Don't get me wrong. This time I'm not complaining about my lack of Dates or even the quality of said Dates. In fact my calendar has been a regular whirlwind of panties and Cristal. But with that being said I am so sick of dinner and drinks.

Now that I'm legal I think dinner and drinks has replaced dinner and a movie as the most cliche date around . I have no problem with eating. In fact I love food, gotta eat. (You know learning how to make a meal together would be a good date. Or attending an Iron Chef event would be fun.) But it's the whole drinks thing that gets me. Sure I like drinking. Sure I enjoy the company of others. And I love the fact that plying you with Cosmos will invariably lead to removal of clothing.

I don't know, it's just so expected. And maybe those expectations are what deems drinks to be such a necessary evil. Drinking will prolong the evening, something that is inherently good if you are both enjoying yourself, but again why the drinking? Maybe it's because we're all older now but it seems as if "drinks" have become the standard fallback for the majority of dates.

The duration of a meal should be more than an ample amount of time to get to know a person. If you like the person you'll figure it out pretty quickly. More often than not, we are so captivated that we forget to actually look at the menu. I don't have any hard data on the matter, but I bet you waitresses can tell when a couple is on a first date. Waitresses are a crafty bunch; when your livelihood depends on the will of a customer, you better be in tune with their ebb and flow and that means more than just brining out my steak wrap in a timely fashion. The leaning in, laughing a bit too much, sure nerves can be attributed, but surely the magical tete-a-tete of the first date is a wonder to behold (if not great comedic material).

Of course the key to any successful date is the inherent rapport between the two individuals and a bar setting could be an excellent atmosphere to enhance such "chemistry", I guess. I strive for being unique and memorable. (And for you lucky ladies out there a night with me will be nothing short of fantastic, nay life-altering. If at the minimum you do not enjoy yourself then I apologize for the agonizing cramps you surely must have been experiencing prior to going out. )

So what's a guy to do? I only have myself to blame. Other than the occasional encounter with the fair coed I will conitue playing this game with you Date. Dinner, drinks and the occasional laser show, roller derby or factory tour. But so are the perils of dating sexy, young urbanites. And as sometimes as great (necessary) an adult libation can be, I yearn for the occasional gallery opening or ice rink. And secretly I long for the days of mini-golf and bumper boats. Curse you suburban upbringing, curses!

Ooo that sounds good, I'll have that

There's two kinds of "burritos" in this world and what kind you prefer says a lot about you. Think about it: what to eat is one of the most important decisions that you encounter through the course of your day. What to eat (and what kind of underwear to wear) not only sets the day's precedent, but is a window into your soul. Let's break it down shall we:

The Burrito-
Bean, meat, cheese, rice and tortilla: the very foundation of traditional Mexican fare. Sure you can add hot sauce, sour cream, the guac. But going into a burrito you know what you're going to get. My personal fave is the carnitas burritos grandes (with jalapenos for fire and extra sour cream to soothe) at Boca Grande.
You'll see all sorts of people eating the burrito. And when they are done eating, they know they are done eating. The perfect lunch. Filling, packed with protein and it transports you to a place where you would be better served drinking margaritas in the sun.

The Wrap-
A distant cousin of the burrito, separated along cultural and economical lines, the wrap is in fact is more of a sandwich than a burrito. Then again so is a gyro (but that's like comparing apples with a big plate of souvlaki.) The wrap has enjoyed unprecedented popularity of late. Thanks in part to the craze to eat healthier, while still enjoying a quick, delicious lunch on the go, the wrap seems to have become a staple at all traditional sandwich shops. But what exactly is a wrap? That's where it gets tricky. While my personal fave, the chicken Caesar wrap, could be considered the quintessential wrap, the options are endless. Sometimes they are served cold, sometimes hot. Meat, chicken, veggies, anything under the sun can go in a wrap. And don't get me started on the type of wrap you can choose from. Only your dad would choose a flour wrap, as sun-dried tomato and spinach are just the tip of the ice berg.

So that's a quick overview of the two. The heavy, bean & cheese laden variety found at most Mexican joints and the bastardized, "wrap" variety. Both are delicious in their own manner. Just different.

So where do I stand along this debate? Well I guess I like my women like my food: a little cheesy, a little fiery and a little round and curvy where it counts. Yup, in the battle of the pseudo-sandwiches, I side with the burrito. The deciding factor: last Tuesday I hit up Boca with Julie and for $3.95 ($5.68 w/ tax & soda)I was in heaven, whereas the next day Krissy and I did the 2 for $20 tango with our Oriental chicken wrap.

You know this post started out as a satire regarding the overpriced capitalist society where a $4 cup of coffee doesn't elicit nary a thought anymore, but why should I go down that road when, ultimately, a great meal is one of the most perfect things?

The start of something beautiful

A year ago today:

Welcome to my New Blog, jerkstore

Hey, I'm mike. mike quan

this is my blog. I'm drunk with power.

Almost Famous

While I think I'd be satisfied with world wide adoration and acclaim, my self proclamation to rule the world is still a work in progress. Have you ever done a google search on yourself? Out of interest/boredom/curiosity I tried it out and goddammit I'm not on the first page. I didn't even make the top 4 pages. What the hell? I quickly lost interest.

But really piqued my interest and increased my anger level is the number of other Michael Quan's out there. This doesn't make sense. Growing up I was the only Quan. Hell, up until senior year of high-school I was the only person that had a last name that even began with Q. That really paid off though, as I was the benefactor of the most asinine scholarship ever: $200 for having a last name that begins with Q. $200 worth of Thanksgiving sandwiches and fro-yo well spent during my first semester. Well at least someone as deserving as myself got it. No way that dumb-as-a-brick Quinn girl was going to even step foot in an institution of higher learning.

So my first gripe is with a Mr. Michael Quan that resides in Boston, Massachusetts. Yeah I know you are sitting there, scratching your head thinking, "wait isn't that you?" Yes, yes it is. But it also seems to be the name of a lesser M. Quan. One that fancies himself a photographer. His collection includes photos of Sen. John Kerry's house, a bunch of dirty hippies and monkeys at the zoo. That joke is just too easy, my Red-stated friends.

Another pseudo MQ is one that attended the University of California at Berkeley, commonly known as Berkeley. Personally, I like to refer to this school as Cal, so as not to confuse the blundering local "street performers". Around these parts when you say, "I graduated from Berkeley," people instinctively think you went to Berklee. Then they either ask you if they can score some pot or how you make the smoothies taste so good. A similar problem exists for my best friend Frank, who went to Dartmouth College. Again, growing up where we did when you say Dartmouth people think of (the University of Massachusetts at) Dartmouth: a mistake that fills him with rage and rightfully so.

But college misnomer aside, I think I could take a liking to this Left Coast MQ. In fact I think I could have been him if the cards played out a bit differently. Originally born in sunny California, traveled 3,000 miles east at the age of 6 where I proceeded to grow up in and be put through the rigors of Whitebread Surburban Anytown, Massachusetts and proceeded to attend urban Boston university. Dreams of the West Coast decadence put on hold for now.

So what does this all boil down to. Frankly, google needs to get their act together and hop on the Q-Train before things get outt of control. How can this be remedied? I'm not going to be coming up with the cure for cancer or deciphering cold-fusion anytime soon. So it's up to you, my readership, to you to spread the gospel of Quan'sWorld. Start small (like when a room full of people can create the sound of a thunderstorm just by rubbing/clapping their hands and stamping their feet). When you come across something that intrigues or infuriates you, leave a comment, tell a friend, call me an ass, question my sexual preference, buy me a steak.

Remember it's not about me, it's about you. One day, when elementary schools across the nation bear my name, your son or daughter will come up to you and asks if it's true that you once knew me. You'll look down at them, brush their hair aside and honestly say yes, you were there from the begining.

Think about it, that's all I ask.

Today's good deed

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I am trying to be nice while driving and I let someone go in front of me and they do not even give the cursory "thank you wave". I'm not asking for much. In fact give me half an effort. Not even a full-fledged open palmed wave, but a slight raise of the hand will do. A simple acknowledgment is all I ask.

Now with that being said I let someone merge in front of me today and when they didn't even bother with a simple nod, I restrained myself from flipping them off. Yup, that was my contribution to the general well-being of humanity for today. Oh did I mention that this person had a dreamcatcher hanging from their rearview mirror? That rat-bastard probably shops at Whole Foods and doesn't even own a TV. It took all manners of self-control not to go L.A. on this self-centered, hippy assclown.

One of my best friends is an avid reader of my blog, he even comments occasionally, but he always warns me to be careful what I write about. There have been countless stories of blog's who have got people in trouble, at work, with their girlfriends/wives/mistress, friends, etc. With that in mind I came up with a new moniker for all my posts. But frankly that wasn't really cutting the mustard because, my name is in my freaking blog!

So I'm back to being Mike of QuansWorld. Doesn't take a genius to figure out who's writing. My good friend Rich Garces will still post occasionally, but most of the time he will be sitting back enjoying a bowl of rice & beans or two. But I've also smartened up and will be more careful about what I write. For example, as I have been doing of late, when I am talking about any girl that I would like to have smooch with or have smooched with, I will give them a moniker. Be it derived from occupation, location or certain physical characteristics. I also won't write about (or video tape) any illegal or especially heinous acts that I commit. Nor will I take any naked pics of myself on my cell phone camera.

And perhaps that my biggest mistake will be: maintaining faith in you, my readers. A while ago I wrote about the reasons why I blog. Added to that list I would like include some background information about my blog.

1. My blog was created by my best friend as a joke.
2. It is intended to be amusing. Farce and satire are to be expected. If I know you or you have had the fortune to interact (wittingly or not) you may end up here. If you have wronged me in some way, live up to any absurd stereotype or commit general acts of stupidity you will end up here.
   
3. I have neither an editor nor the time to extensively edit myself. Most of the time I am writing late at night when I should be sleeping or while I am at work.
   

Faux-Hawk Friday

Friday the 13th can take a backseat to the first annual Faux-Hawk Friday. Just lob the gel in and walk around smirking at befuddled coworkers. Definitely jumped the shark some time ago, right along with metros, yellow rubberband bracelets, and Howard Dean, but that's what makes it so funny.

Pics to come soon. For now Becks will be my stand-in:

Walkoff!

That's two in-a-row baby! Another game-winning homerun in the bottom of the 9th inning, this time by our Captain. Tek's blast saves another brutal Foulke outing as the Sox comeback to win 6-5.




It's not even 9 am yet and it's over sixty degrees. Wowzers.

I can't wait until mid-summer and the people talk about just what a scorcher of a day it's going to be. As much as people complain about the winters in New England, the euphemisms people have for summertime heat and humidity really takes the cake. Hot enough to fry and egg on the sidewalk soon.

I can't wait to grill.

8-mintues? How novel.

I'm up for trying new things and meeting new people. That's pretty much what I was thinking going into tonight. Perhaps a little background is in order. My friend J and I are both single and been on the dating scene for a while. She's a fan of the cute boys, I dig the cute girls. So we decided to take things to the next level and be more proactive. And with that we decided to sign up for 8-minute dating. You know one of those interweb driven things were you meet a bunch of people for a short time and hopefully you develop some kind of instant-chemistry and the rest is a great story for the grandkids, yada yada. So here's a breakdown of the night.

Nothing like having a DayQuil-head and a slight cold to meet women. But it's ok, just the thing I need to take the edge off as I didn't plan on drinking. So running fashionably late as usual, but this time it was because of J and not preening in front of the mirror. We finally arrive and everyone else is mingling, while we are just getting our name tags. Before things officially kick off, they bring out a few appetizer. Nothing special, just some chicken fingers and spinach dip. Although I did score witty banter points with a few local girls, by comparing the spread as very Friendly-esque.

Girl #1: She could have been the sun, the moon and the stars and I wouldn't have known I was so nervous. But she was cute and I did notice her in the pre-game. Foreshadowing things to come: what do you do for a living. I love telling people I'm a copywriter, makes me feel awesome really. And compared to the variety of engineers and accountants I have that left-brain thing on my side. She was nice enough and I think I got the ball rolling.

Girl #2: Ah redheads, gotta love 'em. Although she was the frizzy redhead so she was a bit spastic, but in a cute, good way. And for the life of me I can't remember what she did, although she did go to Bentley. My eyes and heart say probably not.

Girl #3: She's really cool. A teacher, I dig that. We had lots to talk about. I even got to expound upon our fave color of the T. I think that's a good thing. Oh, funny thing she also went to Bentley. Wait a minute, weren't these two girls talking beforehand? Gotta love roommates. A maybe that turned into a yes, with the possibility of a 3-way longshot. Of course I keed.

Girl #4: Boo to odd number of guys and girls. Flying solo on this one which allows me to knosh on some chicken wings and catch the Sox score. We're winning, need a soda. You know the cutest gal here is the waitress. We share witty banter as I think she feels sorry for me. Ding ding onto...

Intermission: Time for a quick bathroom break and to reconvene with J about her prospects. Not so much for her either.

Girl #5: Honestly I have no idea. I'm sure you are a great girl and I enjoyed your company. I just don't recall a thing. Please don't be offended, my mind wanders.

Girl #6: Alright so now I'm feeling like the last kid picked for dodgeball. I see J coming over to my table and we're both like "doh". I bite the bullet and hand her off to the guy who was supposed to be flying solo this time around. Better she meets someone than we just bitch and moan for eight minutes. But again I end up chatting up the cute blond waitress. Seriously who does that? Moving on.

Girl # 7: Alright I think I'm running out of things to say, but this girl is really sweet. Sweet in that girl next door who you sneak a peek while she's changing kind of way. No she's got on this rocking jacket that totally screams style. Plus another teacher, kindergarten so I'm kinda smitten. Hopefully...

Girl #8: Wow she works in marketing at least we'll have that to talk about. I ended up having a drink and it's mixing with the meds pretty good. You know I love hearing myself talk. This girl seems to be a tad older than me and I don't see it working. She is an account person after all, shudder. Oh well a biz contact perhaps.

Bonus Girl #9: I'm playing with house money now, so who cares what I say. "You know this is just like an encore when you see a band play. They make like this extra session is special, but all along we knew it was coming." Wow not caring really works. Lots of good laughing and interesting topics. Wish it started out like this. We'll see how it goes.

Wrap up: Met a lot of really nice people. Some interesting, some not so much. Some cute, some hey, "she's got a great personality". I'm glad I was there with J so we could make snarky comments to each other. Maybe this worked in our favor or maybe we gave off the "together" vibe. I don't know. I regret not talking to the tall brunette with the shoulder pack and the short little Asian girl, well for a myriad of reasons.

I don't know if I would do it again, let alone reccomend it to a friend. I mean everyone who was there has good intentions, but it seems awfully forced. Plus it had that job fair feel to it at first. It's like on your mark, set, emote... Oh well, to the dating gods it goes. And only could I go to a dating event and end up making the best contacts with the bartender. I need a good meeting story and pay-for-play just doesn't cut it. She said she works Mondays, Wednesday and Thursdays so I guess I know what I'm doing this Thursday night.

rah rah rah

Hands down the Tampa Bay Buccaneers have the hottest cheerleaders in the National Football League.
The allure of sunny Florida, ample number of state schools to recruit from and pewter shorts. Makes you want to hold your hat.

My personal faves:
Vanessa Castillo (2nd row, 3rd from left)
Michelle Peneranda (1st row, 4th from left sitting)
Melissa Giovanello (4th row, far right)
and because I used to date a Jeni Summers (4th row, 2nd from left) Unfortunately she did not look like this at all.

! dios mio!




Update: 4:10 tequila slushie o'clock

Just a smear

I'm not even a big fan of bagels, but I just got this new Philly pineapple cream cheese to die for. If it was socially acceptable I would just eat it with a spoon, but since it's not the whole bagel rouse must continue.

Hang on

Sorry that things have been so quiet around here, but I've been pretty busy of late. Work has really ramped up and I've been really pressing myself to work on some spec ads for my book. Inspiration tends to occur in cycles for me and I'm trying to ride it out for as long as I can. I have rewarded myself for such diligence by spending some quality time catching up on some reading. It also seems that my summer cold just won't quit and has left me hounding for more sleep than usual. That combined with juggling three fantasy baseball teams and some freelance work on the side has left me precious time to check in. But on the plus side there was nary a slivered finger in my take-out tonight.

Stories regarding my latest Date du jour, the status of my latest hair-brained plan and a potentially life-altering decision to come.

Another Monday...

Another week starting off insanely tired. There's nothing worse than lying in bed in that semi-lucid, totally non-REM state of anti-sleep. I feel my eyes drifting slowly shut, but my mind prevents me from fully giving in. What's on my mind? The daily stresses of another work week, man I'm going to start running again tomorrow, I'm totally going to ask Date out, I shouldn't have drunken that Coke an hour ago, etc. etc. etc. Then the game starts; it's the same game you play when you decide to stay out late on a week night. I glance at the clock and furtively try to determine "if I fall asleep right now I can get X hours of sleep". Invariably this tete-a-tete plays out more than a few times and the answer is always: nope, it's never enough.

So I flip my pillows over, open a window, close my eyes, get up, try reading a book, turn on the radio, close my eyes, get up, try reading a magazine and reset my alarm for an extra 40 minutes, resulting in my current bleary-eyed state and a parking spot over in the dreaded far lot. The only thing getting me through the day is a meeting with a higher-up regarding some spec ads that I did for my class a while back. (You know I think I should figure a way to put them up somehow.)

Honestly, the next time someone asks me what I would wish for if I had three wishes they would be as follows (as of right now): 1) the ability to get a full night's rest at all times, 2) the lack of end slices on all loaves of bread, while also maintaining the same level of freshness guaranteed by said end slices, 3) Leelee Sobieski at my beck and call.

Happy May Day

rabbit rabbit