the great outdoors

So as you may or may not know, I am soooooo not a camper. In fact I tend to loathe all things outdoors. Honestly the last time I went camping was probably back in 92 and it was beach camping on the Cape. Oh yeah we also stayed in an RV. I know it rained 4 out of the 8 days we were there so we ended up watching a lot of movies, mostly Disney's Hocus Pocus.

Anyways, long story short is that I need to give this whole camping thing another shot. If not just because it sounds like fun (camp fires, smores and drinking with your friends is top-notch), but because I feel I need to do it for the sake of being a better (renaissance) man and the fact that sleeping bag nookie is right up there with cheap motel noookie.

Just a few thoughts in my head whilst I sat in Memorial Day traffic

1. If/when I ever get a dog he needs to have a cool name. I figure it will be good practice for having a child, only I'm 99% sure that I'll never get to name my son/daughter after a famous scientist, my favorite sneaker, an ex-girlfriend or something else as equally random. With that being said I've narrowed things down to a few choices:
• Marley, or Marjele if he's has "that" look to him
• the Dunks
• Darwin
• Fynn


2. When I get a job in the city, should I just stick to the T and my sneaks or do I want to go all in and get that shiny, red scooter I've wanted for pretty much my adult life?
   
   
3. I can't believe I got a girl's number by helping her carry her groceries home. And playing with her dogs. Wow, my life does have good writers. Perhaps, this lead to thought #1 above.
   
   
4. Spiderman 3 was a really bad movie. When 14 out of 15 friends tell you so, my boss being the sole voice of dissent, you should listen to them.
   
   
5. OK I've got a two weddings this summer. One on the 23rd July and the 11th of August. That means I should get my haircut somewhere between July 15-19 to have enough time for it to grow out and look "hot" for maximum bridesmaid time.

Big trouble in little China(town)

Oh man, so last night instead of parking in the nice, safe, well-lit, gentrified parking garage I parked my car in the straight-out-of-a-movie, shady as hell one in Chinatown. The reason: it was closer to the restaurant and saved me $3. So after dinner with Krissy and Alex I'm walking back and FUCK it's like a John Woo movie just broke out.

There is glass everywhere, police just arriving, bunch of Chinese dudes in suits and ladies in dresses angrily milling about and a total fender bender between a blue Saturn and some souped up black Beamer. It seems that a wedding banquet just got out and that the driver of the Saturn (some blond chick) just smashed into the bride's BMW.

The police are holding back a haggle of about seven angry Asian women, two who are obviously the grandma and older aunt, and talking to the blond who has a huge gash on her face and her clothes are all ripped up. From what I could overhear from the police, is that as the blond was coming down the ramp, she skidded and cracked into the Beamer. Then got fucked up by the bride and two of her friends/bridesmaids.

People are everywhere cursing each other out. Everyone was obviously drunk and one guy was carrying a poster-sized picture of the happy couple. There was even the old uncle in just a wife-beater spitting and muttering in Chinese. Oh yeah, the fact that the dudes had those slick full-collar tuxes on and sunglasses made it really cool/fucking scary, just waiting for the first shot to ring out and birds to flutter.

This is what I want to do

My friend recently showed me his company's reel. It scared me because it's so fucking amazing. And it scared me because I'm not there yet and I don't know if I'm ever going to be. But I know I still want to.

shout outs

Matt: Congrats

Jason: Congrats

Frank: I'm glad you enjoyed your meal

Everyone: Big time BBQ tomorrow. Got a keg!

the "move"

I'm gonna make Gretzky's head bleed for super fan 99 over here.

One of the seminal moments of the seminal male-bonding movie, Swingers, is the above mentioned NHL 96-scene where the "Great One" was literally put in his place. I don't know about you, but that's a pretty shoddy way for a legend to go out. Maybe if he wasn't ranked a mere 78 overall, while other lesser stars of the day hovered north of 90. I'm looking at you J. Roenick, P. Bure and P. Yseabart (shudder). It's funny how sometimes the G.O.A.T never get the respect they deserve. But then again what takes an athlete from mere all-star to all-time is the intangibles. And how can you calculate the intangibles?

The point of my ramblings is that if you know the game, you know the movie, you are a red-blooded American male between the ages of 24-33 then you know the game and more importantly you know "the move". Left, right, left triple dekeand then glove side...UNSTOPPABLE.

If only life were that easy. So another year, another Founder's Day and another day of rain. Actually it wasn't a total rain out, just the three and a half hours that some sun would have been nice. Namely during the BBQ and supposed street hockey games that we were going to play...sigh. But at least it was nice enough outside for my early morning commute and late afternoon indoor film showing. Just like real estate and comedy...timing, timing, timing and location, location, location.

So what's on my list of "moves" I need to make. First, lets figure out this career thing. Namely where am I going with it? Back to school? Here? There? New York/Chicago/SD/LA? Starbucks? Either way, I'm not letting the dream die. "Oh no thank you Mr. Hefner. The grotto was better than imagined and thank you for the robe."

After that, make good on my word/heart and be the friend I need to be to the person who means the world to me. Just because you're far, doesn't mean I can write you out. Sorry...

And in more interesting/scandalous news, I will be calling Snow White this weekend because after some failed lunch plans and an epic game of phone tag, I've got only got a few days or so left before it's "buddy mode". Maybe she's my latest crush du jour, but I'm not pie in the sky, head over heels, so that usually means it's going to work out. I'll have an update in the next three days or I'll owe the first person to comment a Frosty.

I like your hat. Will you be my friend?

Some people say it's childish and most often than not, "some people" tend to be right. But the fact remains that I'm a grown man who has best friends. BFFs if you will.

Hear me out. Everyone has friends. More often than not we surround ourselves with them. It seems that the goal as humans is to accumulate as many friends as possible and I'm not talking about the myspace/friendster/facebook variety, but real living, breathing, drinking type friends. It's just the quality/quantity of said friends that determines how things turn out.

There are the friends you can count on, the ones you'd go to "war" with. The friends you call when you break up with your girlfriend, the ones who can cause you to literally LOL on instant messenger. Maybe they aren't near right now, but there's no need to catch up with them because eating wings/Frosty’s/brownie sundaes is better than reminiscing about those wings/Frosty’s/brownie sundaes you ate.

On the other end of the spectrum there's the friends you work with, the ones you talk sports/movies with and the ones you even eat lunch with. You may know their story, but at best you're a supporting character and more often than not, you won't make it back for the sequel. These friends tend to come and go and that is why they aren't my best friends.

Anyways, I've never been a numbers guy so I'd never choose a numerical ranking system (save for the occasional Female Power Rankings). To fully comprehend how things stack up, you should have a basic understanding of baseball. Frankly if you don't have somewhat of an inkling about baseball, you had best be a cute girl or have a highly evolved database of A Team episodes to draw upon.

Quite simply it's all about tiers: A, AA, AAA. You take baby steps, you learn how to swim and sooner or later you might make it to the SHOW. For a more in-depth look at where you stand, please feel free to ask. The fact that you’re reading this is a good start.

While my idiosyncrasies definitely tend to stray towards the odd and somewhat bewildering, I think most people know what I'm talking about. Only they don't openly admit to having BFF.

Sure, it's partly my ego, but I really think that my best friends are awesome. They’re just like normal friends, but frankly better in every way. Funnier, smarter and just better. Kind of like me really.

The point of the story is that if loving someone means never having to say you’re sorry, then being best friends with someone means never having to tell them that. But when they do, it's pretty meaningful. And it’s good to know. (A gay joke would be good here, but then again so would eating a cheeseburger.)

Brown, opaque, calcium-fortified

Being a lactard and all, I haven't had a glass of milk in quite some time. If I discount the med-aided occasions with cookies, cake, brownies or in shake form I think it's coming up on some 4 odd years. But today while grocery shopping, the urge for chocolaty goodness struck and lo and behold...a quart of chocolate milk found its way into my basket. And nothing quite wraps up a day of reading comic books, watching bball and aimlessly wandering about quite like a tall cold one.

Cinco de mayo

So I just found out that this week's crush du jour is actually going to be at the party tonight. Dammit, I was really looking forward to wearing sweatpants. Oh well I guess that means I'll have to rock my Axe body spray.

I wish my mid-afternoon nap worked. I pretty much failed at trying to sleep and am still over -tired and under-stimulated after last night's late night. Anyways, my draw in the Derby made some really interesting Quinfecta picks (50:1!!!). And a happy 27th to the lovely evantino.