Old Money and Loose Morals… Pt. 2…

So we last left off I was still drunk laying on the couch watching the Kardashians take miami. It was the episode where Kourtney was being auctioned off for a date by her sister Khloe. Not going to lie I was a little bit intrigued by this turn of events, and actually wondered if I were in Miami if I’d a had a shot with Kourtney.

I must add this, Kourtney is my #2 Kardashian. I can’t help it. I LOVE Kim. I find her wildly attractive, and she’s famous for being adventurous in the bedroom. A plus in my book.

So after a few episodes, RPG finally called and laid out the game plan for the day. #1. Get some food at Coolidge Corner Clubhouse. #2. He had to work, so I was going to go to the Red Sox team shop on Yawkey Way. #3. We’d be hitting the Celtics game later that night. #4. Potentially meeting up with one of my favorite Bostonians, JP who we last met on my last adventure to Boston.

I showered, got dressed and decided to face the day. RPG came to pick me up, and at this point, after taking such a hot shower, I realized that I had indeed progressed the drunken state I was in because of the hot water. Sweet. Still drunk at noon on a Friday. Mind you, not a first, however, most of the times I’ve been drunk at noon, I started the same day. Not a carryover from the night before. And no, I still don’t think I have a problem.

We arrived at CCC and seeing how RPG was starting to pre-game for the C’s game, we both ordered drinks. I went with my old stand by Jack and coke, RPG went with something else… I was too drunk to pay attention. Then the strangest thing happened. As we were waiting for our food to arrive, I immediately was hung over. Like BAM. Instantaneously HUNG the fuck OVER. The waitress brought me my drink, and I recoiled with a stomach convulsion. (some people call this a dry heave, I would like to think I’m better than that….) I looked at the drink, looked at RPG, back at the drink, back at RPG and said… “I’m not sure I can do it.” RPG looked at me with disgust, which I would actually like to think was a bit more disappointment.

I’m not going to lie folks. This was tough. I was staring a Jack and Coke dead in the face, with a chicken sandwich and fries to the right. Normally, I don’t get hung over. Normally I can start the very next day with drinking. This particular Jack and Coke was my nemesis.

My Worthy Opponent...

There it is boys and girls. The ONLY Jack and Coke I’ve left as a wounded solider. I got halfway through the drink and couldn’t finish. I had been bested. Well done my friend. You were a worthy adversary.

RPG left to head back to work, and I was left to my own devices. Which meant walking downtown and finding the Red Sox team store. It really wasn’t hard to find, but dammit it was bright out, and I had forgotten my sunglasses. Having my eyes completely dehydrated from boozing, then walking out into the bright sun, not my finest decision making of the trip. However I pressed on. Found the team store, and actually had a grand ole time.

Now this little trip of mine, probably took me a good 3 hours of my day. Walking around Boston is not an easy task. I hadn’t eaten much all day, nor had much to drink. The sun was beating down on me, and I started to feel like Lawrence of Arabia… It was at this moment where I decided to get back to RPG’s as quickly as possible. Here is where the enormity of my hangover/drunkenness came to play. I settled down on a little park bench to take a bit of a breather. Next to me were a line of cabs. In which one driver asked if I needed a ride to which I replied no. I was determined to figure out where I was and take the T back to RPG’s place. I busted out the iPhone, even found myself a little map of the T’s routes. My brain was just not having it. All those squiggly lines on the map, and my iPhone taking its sweet ass time. I said (verbally no less) fuck it. And got myself a cab.

A wise decision, however, not another one of my best. Because of my current state, I picked the closest one. Got inside and distinctly said “Comm Ave please….” and off we went. I sat in the back of the cab, and began smelling something insanely vile. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause of the smell, but it rested on one of two things… The cabbie himself or his lunch. Whatever it was, was making me nauseous. This was bad… I reached for the window in hopes that the fresh air would help and not have me throw up something probably a little more vile than this gentleman’s lunch. To my dismay the window had already been down. I sat in the back and told myself, mind over matter, mind over matter. HURRY THE FUCK UP!!!

Just as my Vomit Threat Level was hitting Orange, the driver began to pull over and was looking at me to exit the vehicle. He turned to me in the back seat, and said “Her ya go. Brookline Ave.”

wait… Brookline Ave? That’s not what I said… I said Comm Ave. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh Shit. He took me to the wrong place. I calmly informed the gentleman that I indeed had said, Comm Ave, not Brookline. I may have also mentioned very politely, how these two sound nothing alike. At all. Like, I’m curious as to how you could mistake them. I’m sure it’s a common mistake sir, my apologies.

After some confusion, (my bet was the English language) he did some fancy maneuvering and gotten me to Comm Ave post haste…. crisis averted.

I finally arrived back at RPG’s and headed straight to my previous location. The couch. I was happy to see that the Kardashians take Miami was still on. It’s like the drunk gods above placed my day on pause so I could resume it at my earliest convenience. I took a nice little nap till RPG got back, and was delight to hear him come in the door and announce, “I shall take a nap before tonight’s proceedings.” Epic win. (He may have also ridiculed me in my choice of entertainment on TV. Whatever.

Friday nights events we really not that exciting. Part of it was my hungover-ness. Part was RPG did work all day. The Celtics lost etc etc… so we essentially just called it a night. I think we would have gone out had JP and her friends made the trek outta her condo. But alas, all was for not, and we just packed it in. Which was probably a good idea because Saturday was a giant shit show….

We woke up the next day to beautiful sunshine outside, and booze on our minds. RPG put out the call that we would be heading down to Joe’s American Bar and Grill. They had an outdoor patio section with a retractable roof, and this particular Joe’s was right on Newbury Street, which apparently is a pretty awesome place to be. (I can’t argue with this fact, it was pretty awesome. Tons of food, shopping, and on a nice day like this day.. women. LOTS of women. It was like my heaven.)

We moseyed our way into the patio section and had to wait for some tables. The place was packed with a ton of people who apparently had the same idea we had. RPG and I began to down beverage after beverage, because that is exactly what you do to stay hydrated when it’s 80 degrees outside. Drink.

After sometime of putting down drink after drink, and me staring at beautiful women, and making fun of douchebags we finally got a table. (Let it be known, that this was indeed like 2-3 hours before we got our table. We really didn’t mind, it was so nice outside and the views were incredible. Plus RPG and I can have bullshit conversations till the cows come home.) After we had gotten our table, RPG (much like he did in college) put out his social Bat Signal and sure enough friends started filling in the empty seats we had. KC, who we previously met in part 1, brought her man down and her 2 friends that were visiting from Florida. More drinks were had and the conversations were awesome. At one point, some dude decided to start playing the bagpipes. Which to be honest, happens quite a lot in Boston. (and yes, most people in Boston hate that shit… however, all bagpipers know, tourists eat that shit up. As is true with this particular dude… )

The shit really hit the fan when JP showed up. At that moment, while proclaiming it was indeed her birthday the festivities took a major turn. And by major turn, I mean we started to get more drunk. Many topics of conversations were had, like “JP, how come you didn’t bring your friends out last night, so I can try to sleep with one of them? I mean we’re both on vacation? I would have walked them back to your place…on my way to Whole Foods.” To which JP replied… “Ever the present gentleman, it’s a wonder I didn’t bring them around!” We had a ton of fun drink Jack and Cokes, and Sangria.

JP began to get a bit tipsy and started a relationship with our waiter… and by relationship I mean, she said, I”ll have this… and he took that as “I’m ready to jump your bones.” One could see how the connection was born. The whole time JP would chat with the waiter, he’d return a volley and smile the biggest smile. What was a tad alarming, was the lack of teeth in said waiters mouth. And, the ones he did have, apparently had never met a Crest white strip. We all had a great laugh about that, and even more so when the waiter brought JP an “on the house” birthday slice of cake. We gave her a hard time, until JP bit into something really hard… We all looked down on her plate, and sure enough, what was laying there looked exactly like our waiters tooth!!

We all FREAKED out and started doing the “EEEWWWW” thing that 8 year olds do… upon closer inspection it was determined to be some sort of misplaced nut. (That’s what she said) JP decided that, cake, may not be her best option. So it was determined that booze was. We all got some more drinks in our system, and by this time it was night fall. We felt that sitting at Joe’s was not going to cut it for us, so RPG, JP, RPG’s friend, and I all decided to hit the town…

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time

Email Me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

Old Money and Loose Morals… Pt. 1…

I know it’s been a considerable amount of time since I’ve written anything. To my fans. I apologize. To people who are new to this blog (assuming there are at least 2 people who stumbled upon this blog based on some pretty messed up search terms, which I have a feeling I’ll blog about some other time) welcome and I hope you enjoy.

I’ve decided that I’ll be trying to write more about my life and it’s current happenings, but have realized that nothing has really been going on. Yes, I’ve had my fair of drama and some ups, and even some pretty decent downs, but overall life has been essentially status quo.

Which, brings me to this particular event in my life.

You see, a couple months ago, my grandpa unfortunately passed away. It was expected and was a relief to my family because he had been fighting for so long. Fast forward to the end of February when my grandmother made a visit to our house. It was her normal hard of hearing catch phrase repeating visit that I didn’t think much of. Until she handed me an envelope. Inside was a check for a substantial amount of money to which I hurriedly tried to return saying I couldn’t take such a thing. She responded that it was indeed from my grandpa. Apparently he had stashed some money away for all his grandchildren. After wiping my eyes free of dust that had built up in the room, I hugged my grandma and said thanks. Inside the envelope was also a note… “Spend it on something fun.”

I know my grandpa. I loved my grandpa. He was awesome. He was also a prankster, a joker, and didn’t take life to seriously. Aside from a tinge of racism and loving fox news my grandpa was a great man who loved life, and wanted his grand kids to do so as well.

With that, I took a couple days to think about what I would spend the money on, and it hit me. I called up RPG in Boston and asked what his ticket situation was like. And sure enough…. within minutes, I had booked a flight and had Opening Day tickets to Red Sox v Yankees at Fenway park. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that this would be just the type of fun my grandpa had in mind. (Even if he was an Angles fan.)

Morning of my flight came, and I had to board a plane by 730 am so an early wake up time was in store. I had packed my bags the night before and went to sleep. 5 o’clock rolled around and I made my way to the airport.

As I made my way through the security line, I began unraveling in my head what exactly I had packed and what exactly I had put it in. In my travel bag I had packed all my clothes for the journey and a small Victoria Secret shave kit bag, that I had once procured from a girlfriend who bought me Very Sexy the men’s cologne from Vicky’s. (Which by the way does smell amazing, women flock to it, however, with that being said, telling any female what fragrance you’re wearing and where you got not only raises questions, but seem like it completely emasculates you at the same time. Not a winning combo friends.)

So anyway, inside my VS bag was all my toiletries one needs for a trip. They were all placed neatly inside plastic bags just like the FAA wants me to do. If you haven’t been to the airport recently, you know now that all liquids need to be removed from your bag and scanned separately. Which is really not a big deal. And then, it dawned on me. While I removed all the liquids it left only three items remaining in the bag to be scanned through… they were indeed, my razor, my toothbrush, and a condom. (It should be noted that this is the only condom that I didn’t throw away almost an entire year ago. There is no greater indication of how your sex life is going, then writing about the same unused condom from a YEAR ago.)

That’s right. Security Agent Rose, at 6:15 am on a Thursday morning not only got an idea of what was ahead for the weekend, but she knew my intentions as well. Rose looked up from the screen and asked “Where ya headed?” To which I replied “Boston.” She gave me a quizical look that almost wanted to reprimand me right there in the terminal. I took this as a bit of an insult, looked her right in the eye and replied….

“I’m looking for old money, and loose morals. Good day.”

I would like to tell you she laughed, but she didn’t. I re-packed all my stuff and headed down to board my flight. I had prepared my self for the direct flight by stopping by Barnes and Noble the night before and picking up some books. #1 was Everything is Wrong With Me by Jason Mulgrew. #2 was The Lost City of Z. and #3 was Silver.

Now, I don’t do a lot of shilling out for things on this blog. I feel I like things. You like things. We all go about our business. However, this is a rare occasion. You see, Jason Mulgrew has written a blog for many years. Many of these years I have followed his blog and laughed. And cried (not really that’s for pussies.) Questioned my life existence and over all enjoyed most of his works. So when I read that he was releasing a book, I knew this would be the perfect time to, not only read it, but hope that one of his hot female blog readers would see me reading it, and we’d strike a bond, and I’d be sitting pretty in the Mile High Club in no time.

The Mile High portion of the previous paragraph, sadly, did not come to fruition. However the reading of the entire book on my flight did. And I gotta say friends… it was AWESOME! It was some of the funniest stuff I’ve read in a long time. I like to think I’m funny, (and if you’ve read this long I’m assuming you may too) but sometimes I feel my humor pales in comparison to what was published in this book. At one point, on a plane I was crying I was laughing so hard. Which, I’m sure was awkward for the dude next to me. Like I said, if you enjoy my humor, you’ll love this book. Go get it.

Alright enough with the shilling out… (and ps, if you didn’t like it, deal. It’s my fucking blog I’ll do what I want.)

I touchdown into Boston and a gorgeous day and was quickly picked up by RPG and whisked off to his Alumni Association first Thursday event, which really is just a bunch of people who went to college and now have real jobs, come back to get bombed at. Which as I vaguely remember my college days is the only reason Thursdays existed anyway. The drinking began at roughly 445pm. Please make note of this. I filled RPG in on the goings on around the great Northwest. How so and so is married, and how so and so is having a kid, and how so and so is still a slut (that’s right chick in my Communications class I’m calling you out!) After some time RPG’s friends with real jobs started to show up and the general merriment was under way. Drinks were flowing conversation was great, there was even some dude selling his special musical instruments that he brings to all the events.

This is also where I met KC. Now, I had only talked with KC a couple times before meeting her. At one point there was discussion on me potentially moving to Boston. KC told RPG that she indeed had a room to rent, and at the time, it was something I highly considered. KC and I chatted a bit, and she gave me the go ahead that I could indeed move in AND I could have threesomes. I felt like our friendship was going to be long lasting. (Let it be known, that while I was allowed to have threesomes had I moved in, KC is way to classy for these types of shenanigans, and I would have to procure the 2 other girls for said threesomes on my own.)

Also, let it be known that during this time, there were a LOT of Jack and Cokes being had. If I had to venture a guess… I’d put it at around 7. Rough estimate.

We left the shindig to make our way to another bar. We knew the night was coming to a close, and seeing as it was still a Thursday, people had jobs to do in the morning. However, RPG was like fucking Lewis and Clark blazing the trail to the next bar. And so we went. Went to a place right near RPG’s condo, found a seat at the bar, and attempted to give our livers sclerosis right then and there. I’m not sure at what point I decided this, but I had begun to drink straight Jack with just some ice cubes. Not one of my wisest decisions, but after say 6 more of those, things got a little hazy. And by hazy I mean completely fucking black….

If someone were to say, “hey, I’ll give you a million dollars if you can tell me A.How you got home that night? and B.Who you called that night? I’d really be out a million dollars, cause I would have had no clue. (Most these answers came to light the next day… )

Speaking of the next day, it was about this time where I thought I had lost my iPhone. Again. Yes you read that right I would have been 2 for 2 on trips to Boston and losing an iPhone. I awoke in a panic realizing I had no idea where my iPhone was. I scoured the apartment. I looked for the electrical outlet I had used last time and it wasn’t there. This is apparently where the cold sweats began. With my quick thinking I raced to my bag to see if the charger had been left in there, along with my iPhone. Apparently not. The bag was without cord or charger or phone. Fuck. It was about this time that I made one last ditch effort. I completely removed all the sheets from the bed only to find that right about where my groin area would have passed out all night, was exactly where my phone was. Which lead to a couple conclusions. #1. I wasn’t drunk texting or dialing. #2. Drunk me was smart enough to put it in a safe place. #3. I spooned my iPhone all night long. You’d think I’d be ashamed of #3, but I’m not. Not even at all.

After that whole ordeal with thinking I’d lost an iPhone again, I quickly realized my motor skills were a bit off. Really off, actually. It took roughly 5 minutes with my diminished brain capacity to realize that I was indeed, still drunk. And not just a bit boys and girls, I’m talking speech slurred, got the spins, not ready to face the day drunk. My apologies to those of you on the west coast that I texted so early in the morning. In addition to the spins, and slurred speech, math was apparently lost on me as well.

I got up, poured myself a glass of water, and essentially waited for RPG to call to finalize the itinerary for the day. (What this sentence should have really read was…. I got up, found myself a couch pillow, drank some water and watched Khloe and Kourtney Kardashian for 3 hours straight. However, I felt that sentence was a bit to emasculating. However, I top that 100 times over later in the weekend.)

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time

Email Me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

Irish Wake Style… Pt.2

If you haven’t done so already make sure to check out the first installment of this 2 part series.

Now, where did we leave off. Oh that’s right our faithful hero had made it home after a very long night of drinking, and had his manliness insulted.

I awoke early afternoon and RPG had already headed off to work. Luckily enough because of my extensive pre-game preparations before I headed out to Boston, I was indeed not hung-over. Some may say that this is a glorious turn of events, and other that know me really well might say that drinking excess amounts of Jack Daniels and not having a hang-over may actually be a sign of alcoholism.

Jury’s still out.

I got a call from RPG roughly around 1 something seeing if I wanted to get some lunch. Of course I hadn’t eaten, nor really done anything, so I agreed. He left work a bit early and we rolled to Coolidge Corner Clubhouse. Not going to lie, this was one of my favorite places on the trip to Boston. We enjoyed some jack and cokes in pint glasses, and some delicious huge sandwiches, and then some more Jack and cokes. It was a glorious place. I probably could have stayed there all day and night, but we had things we needed to do.

We headed home and began to do work. And by doing work I mean pouring Jack Daniels into flasks and taking shots before heading to Fenway park. the greatest place on earth. Seriously.

We headed to La Verdad, a bar outside Fenway, to meet up with RPG’s roommate. Probably my favorite sub pot/side story of the whole weekend that I wasn’t really able to exploit much was that RPG’s roommate happens to be moving out near the beginning of September.

I was wondering if any of you remember the theatrical performance Riverdance? You know Michael Flatley who’s feet look as if they are moving independently of his body? Well, as it happens if you thought Riverdance was no more, you my friends are 100% wrong. Riverdance is alive and well AND touring the country come this September. How do I know this you may ask?

Apparently, RPG’s roomate is indeed a dancer in Riverdance! That’s right, lets let that marinate for a bit.

Riverdance. My mind was immediately filled with questions. Have you met Michael Flatley? Can you move up the ranks and become lord of the dance yourself? Are you coming to Portland? What accent do you have? Oh, Australian? Cool.

So let me get this straight. You’re a dancer. You’re Australian. You dance for Riverdance. And I’m the one giving out the gay vibe?!?! Gotta love Boston.

We finished a couple of beers then headed into Fenway for what was going to be a glorious night of baseball. After picking up two bottles of Coke RPG and I found our way to our seats. Upon finding them I couldn’t help but notice that we had gotten seats in the Ted Williams era of Fenway park. You know the time many years ago that man was built like teacup Yorkshire Terriers. Turns out, RPG and I are not built like teacup Yorkshire terriers. We’re men. And were larger than the original designers of Fenway had in mind. We crouched in like sardines only to look down and see the wirey frame of Riverdance sitting comfortably in his seat, all sprawled out enjoying the copious amounts of space allotted to him. Gotta be something said for being a dancer.

The game began as did our drinking of the Jack Daniels. We had both managed to pour our entire flasks into a 1 liter bottle of coke. We sat there and watched as things began to get ugly. The Sox were facing the Yankees from the North in what was a pretty important game. The Yanks jump out to an early lead (like the first couple pitches) and I had thought to myself, maybe I’m going to be in for a long night. I was right.

At one point in the 5th inning I believe, I had finished my Jack and Coke and moved on to beer. The 5th inning had taken so long because we were getting ROCKED. Like bad. I thought maybe I could drown my sorrows in a Fenway Frank (the only hot dog I’ll eat in this world) but to no avail. Nothing was working. The Yankees began pouring on runs and I sat looking on more and more defeated. It was about this point in the game where things took a real turn for the worse. I looked over at RPG and said..
ME: “This is getting really ugly. I’m not sure I can handle much more.”
RPG: “I know. Maybe you shouldn’t come to Fenway anymore.”
ME: “Is it sad that I was just thinking the same thing.”
RPG: “I’m being serious.”
ME: “No, really. I know.”
RPG: “This sucks.”
ME: “Man, fuck this. I’m not going out like this. There will be no mourning. From here on out I’m celebrating this Irish Wake Style!”
RPG: “Fuck.”

(sidebar: I’ve never actually been to an Irish Wake, but on TV they always show people drinking a lot. RPG lived with me through college and had seen me celebrate Irish Wake style many times. I just felt that with America’s foundation being built on some of the Irish’s decisions to immigrate here, I would indeed honor them the best way I knew how. Even if it was stereotypical, and completely false.)

And with my last statement it was indeed “on.” I left my seat for another Fenway Frank, and to procure two more beers. One was in fact for RPG, but unbeknown to me, RPG had also gotten up after me to procure some beers. When I returned to my seat he was nowhere to be found. I focused on my beer for it was my only solace for what was happening on the field. RPG returned with two beers in his hand. Apparently he had gotten the same idea, and gotten another beer for me. So there we were. In our tiny seats. Dropping back beers like our Irish grandma twice removed had just passed. And to be honest. Life was good. We moved down a bit after Fenway had starting clearing up a bit. I told RPG, no matter how bad it got, we weren’t leaving till Sweet Caroline. I flew across this damn country for some all American baseball at one of America’s most beloved ballparks, god dammit, I’m not leaving till I sing Sweet Caroline, sung by none other than one of America’s most beloved artists, Mr. Neil Diamond!

(sidebar again: I was drunk at this point.)
(another sidebar: Not my video. For reason to be explained)

The 8th inning came and went. We left Fenway and it was 18-10 or something god awful. I will say this. Yankee fans sure have become a little more tame in recent years. Years past, I would have been getting an earful from Yankee fans that traveled to Fenway. Not so much. Smart Yankee fans (oxymoron) know that while they may have overall dominance in the world of baseball, we have indeed handed their ass to them for the last 10 years. So, the walk from Fenway to the Cask N’ Flagon was indeed delightful. Aside from not having any booze.

We got inside the Cask, and I proceeded with my declaration of Irish Wake style celebrations. We ordered up 2 more Jack and Cokes, and watched as the sluts made there way inside the bar. Now, typically, this would make me a very happy person. Sluts, jack and coke, and being in Boston. However, while we were at the Cask, they still were showing the last couple bits of the game. Just enough for my poor eyes to witness, another 2 run home run! That was it. Couldn’t take it anymore. Two more Jack and Cokes were ordered and devoured.

It was about this point that I had realized my iPhone battery had died. I figured no big deal. I’ll miss all my friends texting me from their drunken nights back home, and just text them tomorrow. I was excited because I had gotten a number of great pictures, and video of everyone singing Sweet Caroline. Life was good.

At about 2 something am, we decided it was all said and done. We took a cab home to sleep off our depression of losing that last game. We got outta the cab, walked up stairs to RPG’s apartment and began to settle in, when I realized something. I was missing my phone. I searched all 12 of my pockets (I was wearing cargo shorts.) and it was nowhere to be found. I searched high and low beliving that it could be somewhere in the apartment already. No luck. We went outside and searched the area between being dropped off, and the apartment. No luck. The phone was gone. Like Ben Afflecks directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone. (which was also set in Boston. But this was about some kid, not exactly a phone. However, I feel that if anyone had lost an iphone, the feeling is similar right? too far?)

We walked upstairs defeated. Now what happens next depends on who you ask. If you ask me, in my hazy state I went upstairs and passed out in a deep depression. However, if you ask RPG, we went upstairs I grabbed the bottle of Jack and began chugging from the bottle. And then went to bed. Toss up. I’m not sure who to believe.

The rest of the trip was a bit sad. I had lost my iPhone, and we had only been together for 6 days. She was good to me. And so I was sad to have lost her. I’d like to think she found someone who was better than me. A Lawyer, a doctor, maybe even a Red Sox/Celtic, but who knows. It’s difficult to see your life without someone you love. Especially if you think she left you in a cab to be with the driver.

RPG and I killed our day be reliving college and not getting up from the couches for a good 6-8 hours. We rallied after a stunning win by our beloved Red Sox that night, and met up with some more wonderful friends of RPG. The night indeed wasn’t as taxing on my body as the other, but drinks were had, as were laughs and good times. I concluded my Boston trip by flying out 715 am with just enough booze on my breath for the mother with a 3 month old sitting next to me, to give me a dirty look. The look was returned for having a 3 month old sitting next to me. Touche lady.

I made it home safely. Exhausted. Hung over. A bit depressed. But that was one of the greatest vacations I’ve had in a long time. I love me some Boston. I look forward to my next trip.

Until Next Time…

email me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

Irish Wake Style… Pt. 1.

It had occurred to me that I haven’t written in quite some time. I knew that most of that has been because I haven’t had much to write about. It was also because I knew that I would be headed to the wonderful city of Boston later on this month.

It started on the day of my birthday, where I had won a lottery to buy Red Sox tickets online. I called up my old college roommate RPG, and took the plunge. After literally waiting online in the queue for 45 minutes I was finally in. I had gotten 4 tickets for a Friday night game in August. I was all set.

However, after using my Target credit card, I realized that with my current income it would be difficult to purchase some airfare. So I waited.

I plugged away at the Gym, hoping and trying to find ways to come up with some money. Airfare wasn’t cheap either at the time. At one point, a friend of mine from radio contacted me and asked if I would be interested in a part time gig. I was a bit intrigued and asked for some info. Apparently it was a gig to DJ at a new 18 and up strip club that was being opened up. He mentioned it would have been an extra 200-250 a weekend. I can’t say I actually didn’t contemplate this current career choice. But I stuck with my morals and still kept the streak alive.

So my income was low, and I made an executive decision to buy a plane ticket anyway. And of course, I did it the American way… on credit.

So I was committed. There was no stopping me. I was headed to Boston. The next part of this blog, is dedicated to bringing the truth of these events to light. To expose the myths and rumors of such events. The names have been changed, but, if you know me, this probably won’t matter anyway.

I had decided that in order to enjoy this trip and to eliminate carrying extra electronic devices, I would indeed decided to buy a brand new iPhone 3gs. I had planned on tons of mobile uploads to facebook, and twitter updates, along with new videos, and a photo collection to rival Annie Leibovitz, minus 15 year old slut pictures.

I had gotten up at 5:30 am to board my plane early Thursday morning to make it into Boston early enough to enjoy Happy Hour. I slept for a portion of the plane ride, then delved into the book Bowerman, that JDub had let me borrow. Before I knew it, I was touching down in Boston.

I grabbed my one carry-on bag and bolted out to the pick-up area for RPG to come get me. Now, I had lived on the East Coast for some time, and had known exactly how the summers where out there. However, it had been such a long time since I had been out there that I had forgotten one key element, humidity.

It was a nice 80 something degrees when touching down, but getting outside the terminal I had almost immediately began to sweat. It didn’t help I was wearing my hooded sweatshirt. I was disgusted. I cannot stand being hot, and being hot and sweaty is just down right Devil like.

RPG arrived shortly and I was saved by his blasting air conditioning of his jeep. We drove to his apartment where we quickly started with the festivities. And by festivities I mean drinking.

I had prepared my liver, and other internal organs, by constantly reminding them that they would indeed be under pressure this coming weekend. They knew it was coming, so there would be no excuses during this trip. RPG had put two options for the night on the table. One, we would drive to Gillette Stadium and take in a Patriots game. Two, we go downtown and drink our faces off. I asked him to find out how much it would cost to hit up the Pats game and we’d take it from there. Turns out, the game would be at LEAST 70 bucks for some pre-season games.

It was quickly decided to “fuck that” for 70 bucks was money that could be well spent elsewhere (Read:Booze) So downtown we went. RPG informed we would be meeting up with some of his good buddies from around town. Nothing could prepare me for what was to happen next.

We sat down and got some drinks at a wonderful bar called Rattlesnakes. RPG’s friend B showed up and informed us that his girlfriend JP would be a bit late and that she had a funny story for us.

Initially when I meet new people I hold out a bit, turns out I tend to judge people. And, I generally don’t like new people. However B and JP had a story that made me instant friends for life. They had been walking down the street when they ran into Derek Jeter and Jorge Posada. (For those that don’t know they play for the Yankees.) They were in town early for the game and apparently were walking amongst the common folk of Boston. I would also like to point out they were hand and hand with each other, and Jeter was carrying Posadas Bed, Bath, and Beyond bag. (I may have embellished this part. Creative privileges) Anyway, so they notice Jeter and Posada coming close, and Jeter looks to JP and asks “Hey do you know where the Mandarin Hotel is?” To which my new friend JP looks at him and says, “Like I’d tell you.”

New. Best. Friend.

As I got to know my new two best friends it was revealed to me that not only does JP love to watch 90210 (like me) she also loves my blog (like me. I showed her on my iPhone) but also her and B were in the processes of creating a company that would sell granola clusters. I told them of the hippy-ness that is the Pacific Northwest, especially Oregon, and how that would be an instant hit. Of course, this is not entirely true, because I for one, hate hippies, and I’m not that big a fan of granola. However, I’m a huge fan of Honey Bunches of Oats, and the giant clusters in that cereal and if they are anything like this, consider me sold! You can check the website here… and help out my new best friends!

RPG, JP, B, and I had done some pretty sweet damage at the bar because we were pretty wasted. It was decided we’d make one last stop and call it a night. Apparently some people had jobs the next day and it wasn’t cool to be hung-over. (JP was in the most trouble for not only was she 105 pounds I’m pretty sure she drank her weight in Sangria, Tequilas Shots, and pitchers of margaritas.)

We boarded the T and were on our way to a bar close to home. JP and B said they were along for the ride, and at the very last second they snuck out of the T like Ninjas! It was up to RPG and me to carry on! Apparently JP and B have never been in the Army, because they obviously don’t believe in the motto leave no man behind. It’s cool, keep your jobs.

RPG and I had made it to one last bar. We were about 20 minutes into our second drinks and having a lovely debate that we usually end up having when something strange happened.

Minding our own business, a nice young lady decided to come up and strike up a conversation between her and me. It went a little something like this.

(By the way, she just came up to us and interrupted our conversation)

Girl: So you think you’re hot? (looking directly at me)
Me: Uh, um, like temperature wise, or like attractive?
Girl: Like you think you’re really good looking?
Me: Well, I mean, I don’t think I’m particularly ugly.
Girl: But like you think you’re really hot.
Me: Are we talking overall, or just in this bar?
Girl: In this bar, you think you’re really hot!
Me: Um, I mean, I may give myself top 5. I guess.
Girl: You’re definitely top 2. Top 2 for sure.
Me: Is Tom Brady over there beating me out for number one? (It wasn’t actually Tom Brady; it was indeed some dude wearing a Brady jersey.)
Girl: Hahaha… you’re funny.
Me: Thanks?

And with that she left. That was it.

Until another 20 minutes passed and she made another approach. I figured someone hotter had rolled into the bar and she wanted to tell me that I had been indeed knocked down to number 3, but that wasn’t the case. Turns out, she had an even more important line of questioning.

Girl: So you’re not gay?
Me: Excuse me?
Girl: You’re not gay? You’re straight?
Me: Yeah, I’m straight!
Girl: Oh I just really thought you were gay.
Me: Am I really giving off that big of a “I’m gay” vibe?
Girl: I dunno, I just figured you like really gay.
Me: Wait, so am I still top 2 hottest in the bar?
Girl: Yeah totally!
Me: Nice. I’ll take that.

After RPG had come up from air from laughing so hard, we decided it was probably time to go. We finished up our drinks and made the trek back to RPG’s place for some much needed sleep. Friday, was going to be a long day.

To Be Continued…

Until Next Time

Email me
SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

What I’m Thankful For…

I recently looked and realized for a minute there I was posting every other day. Then came some time spent in the bakery of The Warehouse and I noticed that my posting, like my dignity, was fading away. So here I am. With a more of a promise to try and post a little more often.

A friend of mine who writes a blog had a pretty sweet post of the things she is thankful for. She used Flickr and it was pretty awesome. I was impressed. My list however is unique, and I don’t think I can find some of the images. (You’ll see soon enough.) So, with that being said, here goes my list.

(in no particular order.)

I’m Thankful for….
Turkey
Playing Thanksgiving Day football.
Not being hurt in said Thanksgiving Day football.
My Family.
My Parents.
My Brother being home from college.
A roof over my head.
My wonderful, awesome, friends.
The Civil War. (Oregon v Oregon State. Not North v South. Although it did help bring an end to slavery and such… so I’m pretty thankful for that too.)
A job.
My Car.
Movies.
I live in a country where people can buy thousands of pies in one day.
I live in a country where people can make thousands of pies in one day.
I live in a country where we celebrate holidays in which, gorging out on food, playing/watching football, not giving people gifts, and getting the day off.
I live in a country where I’m allowed to vote.
I’m live in a country where I’m able to question my government.
The Red Sox.
Manchester United.
Girls who wear “party pants/soroity pants” to The Warehouse to do some Thanksgiving shopping.
Those same girls who have a little bit of Vicky’s Secret showing. Makes an eight hour day just a bit more bearable.
Girls who wear boyshorts.
Beer Pong.
Jack Daniels.
Having Crushes.
Las Vegas.
Combination of Beer Pong IN Las Vegas.
My Bed.
My Grandparents. Both sets.
Paragon.
The invention of the thong.
Nike.
Video Games.
The Internet.
My little Hula Girl dashboard top that moves while I type.
Ikea.
Holiday Sales.
Music.
My Health.
The new trend in womens fashion, to wear long wool coats, skirts, and FM Boots.
FM Boots.
College Football Saturdays.
Being a Coach.

Good times with friends, with many more to come.

Happy Thanksgiving 08′ Everyone.

Mourning…

It’s true, I’m in mourning. My Red Sox had a valiant comeback from 3 games to 1 to force a game 7 at Tropicana Field. In which they lost.

The big story however is game 5.

I’ve mentioned before that I coach a high school soccer team and that commitment is pretty important to me. I attend all the games and assist the head coach in just about everything. In fact at one point, while our head coach was serving a suspension, I was the interim head coach for a game. We tied. But that’s not important.

That night however, I had a gigantic conflict as the Red Sox, in an elimination game were on tv. Now, mind you, I don’t leave the Sox for just about anything. Almost nothing in fact. Last year, while the Sox were in the World Series, I sat at home while all my friends were out galavanting around in slutty halloween costumes. And for those that know me, missing out on Slut Appreciation Weekend (read: Halloween) is not something I take lightly. Nor is drinking. But however the Sox were on. And I did not leave my couch.

I knew however that I was going to have to leave for my game that night. A decision I did not take lightly. I’m pretty superstitious and knowing that I would be away from my spot while supporting the Sox did not sit well with me.

At the time I left for my game, the Sox were down 5-0. I had to leave. I didn’t want to. But had too. The Sox needed me. I was letting them down, and if they lost, it was all my fault. At the game while warming up my goalkeeper, someone shouted from the side, Coach… Sox down 7-0 in the seventh.

Crushed.

My attention was turned to the game at hand. A must win for my team to have any shot at playoffs. With my rising blood pressure from the Sox, and the fact that we held a narrow, 1-0 lead in the socer game, my heart was taking a beating.

We held on to the lead, and finished with a 1-0 win, and a mighty brighter hope for playoffs. Something that hasn’t been done with our school since 95 I believe. It was a big win. It basically cancelled out the thoughts and feelings I had about the Sox losing. Until I returned home. I had realized that although we had gotten our win, the Red Sox, who I’ve been supporting since I was 8 years old, had lost.

I went to my room to check out my emails, facebook, myspace, and my phone. Upon checking my phone the strangest thing happened. I had 7 new text messages, 5 missed phone calls, and 3 new voice mails. Contrary to popular belief I DO NOT get this many messages, phone call, or voice mails in an entire week, let alone a two hour time span.

I began to read some of the text..

That Papelbon guy is good. Weird why would Paps be in. losing 7-0 why would they have a closer in. odd.
Still breathing. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be… 7-0, no one comes back from 7-0 in the 7th inning.
Well hot damn. Hot damn, what… we were down 7-0 in the 7th inning.
You best be watching!! Well I would like, to, but I’m not sure what you’re all excited about.. it’s 7-0 in the 7th inning.

So at this point, I decided to check ESPN.com… and there it was… the Sox had pulled off the most incredible, improbable comeback of the ALCS history. The Sox had come back from 7-0 in the 7th inning to win the game!

I was in shock, the next couple minutes of my life I actually don’t remember. I tried texting my friends, back but I’m pretty sure it was incoherent nonsense. They came back. They won. They were destined for #3. Of course, we all know what happened. And if you don’t well shame on you. Sox took game 6 and pushed a game 7 which they gallantly lost.

At least now I can go out for Slut Appreciation Weekend. Bonus.

I’ve been in mourning for the last couple of days. It stings, and it hurts. We got beat by a great team. They were good. They ARE good. In fact I think the Rays are so good, that not only will they win the WS, but the Sox got the best scouting report on their 2010 roster.

My life is returning to normal. In fact, in other news, I’ve taken a job working at a large warehouse chain made popular by the movie Employee of the Month. I worked there a long time ago right after high school. So almost ten years ago did I work there. Which turns out was to my benefit because a lot of the same people are STILL there. Amazing. I had to take a drug test so pending the drug test, I’ll be going to orientation on Thursday. Should be interesting.

Orientation, should be interesting. Not the drug test.

For those of you without DirecTV, I have to say you’re missing one of the greatest season of Friday Night Lights. This show is AMAZING. I wish I could give you all sorts of insight, and we could talk about it. Hell, no one I know has DirecTV so I can’t talk about the show without giving things away. It bothers me a lot, because there is a lot I need to discuss with my friends.

Like Lyla Garrity…

photo from Men's Health Magazine

Sidebar: I’d like it to be known, that Minka Kelly has been knocked out of my top 5 list of hot girls. You see, while she is incredibly hot, Minka has been involved in activities that have lowered her status. Her dropping out of the list reasons are three fold…
#1. She Dated John Mayer.
#2. She’s Dating Derek Jeter.
#3. She was at a University of Texas football game.
(she was actually at the game WITH Derek Jeter… two things that are at the top of my HATE list at the SAME TIME. MINKA WHY?!?!? WHY?!?!)

or is it just me, or is coaches daughter getting a bit hotter?

Getty Images

Last but not least, what guy wouldn’t want to be Tim Riggins?!?! Captain of the SS Ta Ta’s.
(aside from sleeping with your best friends girlfriend, couple days after he was paralyzed… whatever.)

All these burning questions and topics I need to discuss with people.

Speaking of good tv, is anyone else watching Entourage??? It’s been awesome… all I have to say is Ari Gold is back. He’s already had some amazing lines that I’m pretty sure you can find at one of my favorite blog sites… Ari Gold quotes.. check it out. Hilarious.

Oh and How I Met Your Mother has also been great this season. The last episode was hilarious. Watch it here and enjoy….. Shelter Island

The Seattle Mariner comment was HILARIOUS.

Anway, enough from me… if you want to know, or discuss more TV here is what’s on my DVR…
The Hills
How I Met Your Mother
Big Bang Theory
Heroes
Chuck
Friday Night Lights
The Office
Grey’s Anatomy
Entourage

Speaking of Tv, this is one of the best text messages that brightened my week….
I get sick of MTV’s Parental Control and then they throw some lesbians in there and suck me back in.

these are my friends.

SarcasmAsAWeapon@gmail.com

until next time.

Dropping Hints…

So as I’ve grown in my life, I’ve become quite accustomed to the women in my life being fairly adept at dropping hints.

Sometimes I’ve been really good at picking up on things. For example one ex-gf at one point a couple months before Christmas stated, “Have you seen the Tiffany’s bracelets, with the heart. So cute, I love em.”

To which with my powers as a man, picked up on the fact that she wanted a Tiffany’s bracelet and therefore she recieved one. I was of course the hero that Christmas.

However I’ve also failed many many times in the dropping of hints from women. It’s just not something I’m very good at. For starters I’m a guy. Guy’s don’t drop hints. Guys are literal. Guys say, I want such and such, that’s pretty much what they mean. Of course we’ve been known to be “confusing” but that’s because for the most part ladies, you’re looking for the deeper meaning. You’re looking for some alternate version of what was said. And it’s not your fault, it’s just the way your wired. It’s what makes us, us.

The other reason for failure to pick up on the sublties from women, is because my mom isn’t very subtle. Never has been, and I don’t think she ever will. I think it may come from the fact that she’s lived in a house full of men her entire life. I’ve got 6 brothers and my dad so it became quite imperative for her not to drop hints. Nothing would get done.

My mother is also not very shy. She’ll tell you how it is. I can tell you exactly which girls I brought home my mom like and disliked. So far I’m batting 2-4. While that is an impressive .500, that generally doesn’t get you very far in the “making wise decisions” section of mom hood. Which I’m currently ok with, considering I’ve done many a things to elevate my status of “son who makes the worst decisions.”

(side bar, I’m not some loser drug addicted flunky, I just may or may not have certain issues with the religion for which I was raised. This would be a huge factor in “son who makes the worst decisions” contests. Although two of my brothers haven’t been to college yet, I’m pretty sure I’m still the gold medal winner in this category. And if you know me, you’ll know I do love winning. The only way I drop down to the silver medal is if one of my bros. decideds to enroll into the military. If that is to take place, then it’s the silver medal podium for me folks.)

Sorry for that, back to the story.

I came home the other day to find that my mother had been shopping. I’m not sure why or when, but she has found some sort of fascination with shopping at Goodwill. I’m pretty sure it’s because of the good deals. For example when I was looking for a writing desk for my room, where did she suggest? That’s right the Goodwill. The desk was not all it was hyped up to be but that’s normal.

My mom shops a lot for her grandchildren. (This is a disturbing fact for growing up my mother bought us NOTHING that wasn’t really neccesary. This is also my theory that she is attempting to earn her way into heaven by being nice to the grandchildren.) So among the thigns that are littered on the table are a pair of kid shoes, some hawaiian t’s, some kid cargo shorts, and a nylon Red Sox’s outfit complete with jacket and pants.

She was very excited (as she always is) to show me her recent finds at the Goodwill. The shoes, shorts, and t’s were for my nephew. Which is cool, becasue he’ll be looking fly this summer. However even though my nephew has just picked up some t-ball, my mother informed me that the Sox’s outfit was actually not for my nephew….

Mom: did you see the Sox Warm up?
Me: Yeah I did, that’s awesome! Landon will love it!
Mom: It’s not for landon.
Me: Who’s it for then?
Mom: well I was thinking maybe you’d want it.
Me: FOR WHAT?
Mom: I don’t know… maybe, you’d just want it.. for the future or something?
Me: You can’t be serious right now?
Mom: Well I don’t know, just thought you know, maybe…
Me: Fine, I’ll take it, maybe I have a teddy bear somewhere I can put it on.
Mom: Yeah that will work.
Me: yeah I bet.

So there you have it. Mom started dropping hints. She wants me either
a.) outta the house.
b.) to be a babby daddy.
c.) to adopt a toddler to fit this Red Sox outfit she so proudly bought.
d.) become a “big brother” to an inner city youth.

I’m not exactly sure what to think. Although finding one of the ladies that lowered my batting average and begin hanging out with her again to piss my mom off, probably isn’t the best way to be a good son. But then again, it would probably catapult me to the gold medal podium.

I do like to win.

Memorable Memorial

First things first.

I saw Indiana Jones, twice. And I thought it was great. There are some people out there who are going to say, it sucked. It was cheesy. It had too many special effects. Harrison Ford “mailed it in.”

Well I say go eff yourself!

I don’t really mean that.

wait.

Yes I do.

For those of you old enough to have seen any of the previous three Indy movies in the theaters, then this one is going to bring back all the fun you had the first time. Right down to the theme music at the very end. I’m not going to say it was the best out of the 4… cause it wasn’t. But it was fun and I liked it. So go out and see Indiana Jones. It’s fun and it’s a great summer popcorn movie. No more no less.

I may even be excited if Shia Lebouf takes on the role as the new Indy, I mean his name is Henry Jones the 3rd. nice…..

Now that I’ve got Indy out of the way, it’s time to talk about how much booze I consumed over the past couple of days. Normally I’ve been sticking to my workout regime and by that I mean cutting back on the numbers of days I tend to drink. I’ve waned it down from a solid 5 outta 7 days, to a solid 1 maybe two a week. With that being said, I’ll have it be known, that just because my days of drinking have diminished, my intake has not.

This however was not the case this past weekend. My good friend Leeds rolled into town from China. Yup, China. And nope, he’s not Chinese. He’s not even Asian. Just a good old white boy from Oregon who’s job has taken him to China. Leeds and I attended the same high school. We’ve known each other for a couple years. He’s been gone a couple of years, so when he comes to town we usually try to drink till we can’t stand celebrate.

In past years, some of the festivities have included, me standing on a chair and challenging someone to a fight, Leeds singing the Ricky Martin classic “She Bangs” to some random cougars, and the biggest celebration ended by Stampy driving me home and me puking in the front lawn of my parents house. Class 24/7 folks.

So this year was unlike no other… we proceeded to our favorite Irish bar and got some dinner and proceeded to drink ourselves silly. And by silly I mean drunk off our asses. Go us. It was a celebration unlike any other. Stampy bought some wonderful shots for these two ladies who proceed to a.) treat him like he may have leprosy and b.) believe he may have roofied both the shots. (I would have gladly taken both the shots to prove that neither of the shots had been roofied, but I’m pretty sure that would have completely defeated the purpose of buying shots for women. Jury’s still out.)

All in all I believe there were a total of 8 rounds of drinks. Sadly there were no renditions of She Bangs, however there was a rousing version of Sweet Caroline that we felt necessary to back up the band. All in all a good night. Leeds went back to China this Monday with some great memories, and some equally fuzzy ones.

We got together with some other friends the next night, and again the booze flowed. Had a great time discussing my latest idea of “NapNation”®

Picture this, you’re at work, and you get off at 5:00 yet you were planning on meeting friends, at 7:30 to get drinks/see a movie whatever. You are thinking, home is too far away to drive home, and you really don’t want to stay late at work. You’re exhausted and you could really use a nap…. This is where NapNation® comes in!

NapNation® is where you could stop by and rent a bed/room for a pretty decent rate. The room would be filled with all sorts of magical relaxing agents to help you get a decent little nap in before meeting up with your friends. And trust me, most of my friends have asked me many a questions about the logistics of NapNation® and I am here to inform you I’ve thought about many of them. Please hold all your questions till the end.

Anyway, I’m basically just saying this to prove that I have wonderful ideas when I’m drunk.

So finally the end of Memorial Day came with a wonderful trip up to Seattle to see the Red Sox take on the Mariners. I would like to say that this trip was without booze, but that would be blasphemy against the great American tradition of beer, baseball, and processed cheese. For the most part the weekend was pretty tame and walking around a sunny Seattle was a pretty great treat, considering Seattle has like 4 sunny days a year. I’m pretty happy that I got to witness at least one of them.

Jdub and I ventured down to the Pyramid Brewery about 2 hours before game time to catch the Celtics v Pistons on TV and drink some overpriced beer. Well, the inside of the bar was extremely packed. It was basically standing room only…. and it was packed with Sox fans. Which was awesome. Nothing like outnumbering the home teams fans at their own ballpark and bars. It was like the 18th street Vatos rolling into the 12th street Dragons yet all the Dragons had something more important to do then defend their turf.

So there we were minding our own business taking in the sights of the bar. We were quickly surrounded by some very interesting characters. The first two were a lesbian couple oddly enough from Portland. Next, was the fruit vendor, the 6’4 firefighter, and his buddy…

Now if this group already sounds hilarious, it was. It was the perfect group for our own reality show. Somehow we all became aquatinted and once the booze started flowing things became a little more funny. First was the fruit vendor. It was a sad little story watching him trying to run game on one of the lesbian women. And he would give up either. He kept trying and trying, almost pretending as if he didn’t hear her say…. “I’m not any good at sucking.” “I’m a lesbian.” “Me and My girlfriend….” All of these were direct quotes, and all of these did nothing to deter our friend the fruit vendor.

Speaking of the fruit vendor, at one point our friend the 6’4 firefighter asked us all… anyone from the east coast?? To which most of us replied no, I mentioned that I had lived in Londonderry New Hampshire, but other than me the only one to respond was the fruit vendor. To which he replied in “an outta nowhere” Boston accent, that he was indeed from some east coast town. (I can’t honestly remember which one, for the shock and awe of the accent rendered me speechless and deaf.)

Literally after about a hour and a half fruit vendor was still running game on Lesbian number one. It was mighty impressive the determination on this guy. At one point we found out that the two lesbians actually were from the same area as Jdub and I. After a little more conversation, we found out that Lesbian number two is actually a cop with Jdubs ex-boyfriend… More hilarity ensued over the making fun of how dorky Jdubs ex-bf was, but even more hilarity ensued when lesbian number one proceeded to get very very intoxicated.

At one point someone joined the group late and brought some girl along with him. To start they weren’t very talkative, and well lesbian number one took a great exception to this. At one point, she looked over at Jdub and I and exclaimed (and not quietly mind you) “that girl he brought, she’s like the fucking ice queen.” To which I laughed and brought up the scene from Saving Silverman. The one with the graph chart of how much fun was had….
“Before Ice queen joined the group, we were at an all time high of fun. 98%. After ice queen showed up we were at an all time low in fun. Zero fun.”

As we all discussed what we did, and what made us awesome (other than being sox fans) lesbian number one shouted, to the 6’4 firefighter… “fuck you’re like the coolest person here, you run into burning buildings, my girlfriend gets shot at with real bullets, this dudes a fruit vendor, and I sling coffee at starbucks. What the fuck do you two do?”

(at this point I must interject another little story about Fruit vendor. Remember when we were talking about the east coast and his Boston accent magically appeared? Right, well right at the point lesbian number one mentioned he was a fruit vendor, he turned to the group to proclaim… “it’s very profitable situation.” To which I couldn’t help but notice, muther fucking fruit vendor NOW has a lisp? Holy hell….)

I mentioned I worked in radio which was met with awe, and Jdub replied something about events etc etc and being awesome. Lesbian one was impressed. We had made it to coolness in the eyes of a drunken lesbian. Life goal completed.

After two hours of drinking, and endless running game we decided to part ways from the group. We all said our goodbyes and good lucks to the Sox.

More beers were had at the game and the Sox went on to win 5-3. It was a great night for baseball and a great trip to be had. I’m not sure if JDub has heard from her ex-bf yet, but I’m pretty sure there is going to be some sort of mention. I mean those lesbians were funny.

Which brings me to the moral of this story….

beer, baseball, and processed cheese has the power to bring us all together. As fans. As Humans. And as a Nation. God Bless America.

and lesbians.

Gym Rat, March Madness, Job Hunting…

So as it turns out, I’ve officially gone one full week with going to the gym. It’s pretty crazy I know. I never really thought I’d have it in me to do so, but low and behold I’m knocking out mile after mile. I surprise even myself sometimes.

Friday morning I found myself waking up just a little bit early to make sure I made it to the gym and downtown to watch some March Madness with my friends. First game on tap is Gonzaga, and of course I have them to win. Ever since I was back in college and the girl I was dating at the time was good friends with some of the players, I have been a fan. Of course it didn’t hurt that that was the first year they went really far in the tournament. The team of Matt Santangelo, Casey Calvary, etc etc…

Anyway, so I proceed to the gym knowing full well, that if I get my workout done I’ll be home by halftime, shower, then on the Buffalo Wild Wings. So I find a treadmill crank it up, and look above to find a television with the game on it. When low and behold I get nothing!!! Stupid Obama was in town talking about something and they didn’t have the game on! WTF??? Who does that? What political leader in their right mind would pre-empt March Madness? I mean, he filled out a bracket. Wasn’t he concerned of the outcome? Did this not affect the outcome of his office pool? Seriously. Frustrating.

Obama finished his speech and the game returned, and all was well with the world. Aside from the shooting pains in my calf muscle. I finished up my work out, got all dolled up, and went down to BW3. My timing in my head must have been off, because I ended up listening to Gonzaga lose at the buzzer on my car radio. How dissapointed was I. Not only did I miss the game, I had to listen to them lose and crush my bracket just a little bit more. Which ultimately brings me to my next point.

I hate March Madness.

Well I don’t hate it. I mean I do, I just, wish it didn’t leave me feeling so empty. I’m reminded of Matt Damon’s character Mike in Rounders. You know the scene in the beginning where Mike knows he’s won, he’s a sure bet, and Teddy KGB sucker punches him in the gut with pocket Aces?? That’s pretty much how I feel by Sunday afternoon. Sucker punched in the gut, cause I know some friend of mine’s girlfriend is the one cleaning up our Bracket competition. All because she thought “Davidson Red looks good on me.” Son of a bitch.

I’d go more into depth on the whole bracket situation, but I’m pretty much done. At this point my saving grace is UCLA, North Carolina, and Memphis. But with my luck, they’ll all lose. Needless to say I won’t be that interested in the “Madness” until the championship game.

I’ve still got a lot of time on my hands, becuase I’m still looking for a job. And you know what else I hate…. pretty sure you all saw it coming, that’s right looking for a job. I seriously hate it. It’s good to know that I’m trying to find a job during a period of really shitty economy. That’s awesome.

Seriously though. I think one of the things I hate the most is a cover letter. What is the REAL point of a cover letter. I mean I get it’s purpose, to lobby for a job, to make yourself look better. But in all reality it’s just 3 more paragraphs that are more than likely going to expose you for the faker you really are. Cause in all honestly how many of us bend what our “experience” is to “job requirements?” I know I do. And I guess I have to really. Telling people in the real world exactly what I did isn’t easy with a little one page resume. And trust me when I say having Music Director on your resume doesn’t actually lend itself to to many opportunities. So with that, I decided to write a cover letter informing potential employers just how freakin awesome I am. More than likely, this will not work.

Big news though. Red Sox (and all of baseball) opening day is Tuesday morning at 3 am. Diasuke Matsusaka starts things off against Rich Harden of the Oakland A’s. I’m really kind of nervous though this year. I know we have a great group of really talented players, but I’m pretty sure the kiss of death came when I logged onto ESPN.com this morning. There it was on the front page no less. Baseball experts have picked the Sox as the “favorite” to win this year.

Ugh.

If you’re a real Sox fan you’ll already know that this can’t really bode well for our team. We’ve seen stuff like this before. We’ve never wanted to be the favorite. We like surprising people with our hard work and heart (04). We like overcoming odds, we like fighting and clawing our way back for the win (07). Most of all We Sox always, ALWAYS, have trepidation in our heart, because we know in a single fleeting second we can see it all crumble before our eyes. I spent all of last year keeping my mouth shut when we were 14 games ahead in the AL east. I kept my mouth shut when we were down 3-1 in the ALCS. I kept my faith at an all time high at every one of those pivotal points and I was rewarded. Now, I feel as if the black curse of death has been placed on my beloved Sox. Apox on you ESPN! APOX ON YOU!!!!!!!

But, wether or not the Sox are in first or in last, I will always be a proud member of Red Sox Nation. Go Sox!

Lastly, in keeping with my love affair of movies, I got some really great ones from Netflix this week. Michael Clayton, No Country For Old Men, Cashback, and some others. I just want so say that No Country, and Michael Clayton were as good as the nominations that followed. They were awesome. No Country was an amazing thriller with unforgetable characters provided by the Coen Brothers who are fantastic! Michael Clayton had a stellar cast that brought this intense drama to life. I highly reccomend both movies! Cashback… eh. It was alright.