- When you wake up in the morning with the shakes after a long night of drinking, a good cure is an ice cold glass of Chardonnay. Keep one chilled next to your bed, so you can down it as soon as you wake up. Takes care of the shakes and gives you energy to face the day.
- Random Whore: I like it when you place my penis inside your mouth. I understand you don't need to be doing this, and I appreciate it. Only, try to use less teeth next time. It'll make my walk home less painful the following morning.
- Nick Nolte and Gary Busey are the same person. As such, Jake Busey is the progeny of Nick Nolte.
- If you like cocaine and whores, go to Paraguay. It's really cheap, and there's not much else to do there.
- I saw a man on the street wearing a STOP WARS t-shirt. I asked him what his plan for the ensuing overpopulation problem was.
- You'd think with the amount of time, planning, effort and energy put into clothing and makeup decisions women wouldn't look so consistently stupid. You'd think, but you'd be wrong.
- Kurt Russell and Patrick Swayze are the same person. I don't know either of their children's names.
- Miranda Cosgrove is the next Miley Cyrus. Remember you heard it here first.
- If Beverly Hills 90210 can have a new show recreated, I think it's high time for another thirteen years of 7th Heaven.
- I met a female bartender last night who looked exactly like Dolph Lundgren. Spitting image. I busted out all sorts of Ivan Drago quotes. Strangely, she didn't seem to get it.
- What do you call a Chinese man who is unable to mourn the death of his wife? Unbereavable.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Mental Meanderings
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Back To the Future, To Paraguay
You'd think I'd learn my lesson after the awful transgressions described in my Top 5 Hangovers post below. Apparently not. It's back to Asuncion for me. By the time most of you people with jobs read this on Monday morning I'll be in a Sao Paolo airport bar killing a five-hour layover en route to my final destination. The picture above is, in fact, the same Cafecitos Pub from my immortal Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions story. Read it and you'll know why I'm so disgusted. Anyway, I'm gone for two weeks so these recent entries are all you have to sustain you in my absence. If I don't post again before the holidays, and the odds are good I won't, enjoy yourselves and tie one on for me. Peace, children.
Top 5 Hangovers
5. Penn State vs. Wisconsin, 2008: The fifth-worst hangover I've experienced occurred a few Sundays ago, as a result of the previous night's festivities. I was out early on Saturday at a Penn State gathering for the game vs Wisconsin. I got it in my head early on that I wouldn't duplicate the same drink, nor the same type of alcohol, for the rest of the night. Upon proclaiming this, and ordering shots of tequila after I'd already had beer, wine, gin, scotch, and vodka, my friend Kellen warned me I'd "hate myself tomorrow." Boy was he right. Everyone else seemed to have the good sense to call it a night around 11pm, after a good five hours of hard drinking. Not me. I decided it'd be a good idea to stumble across town and go on a Jaeger and Irish car bomb binge until the bar closed at 4am. Next I remembered, I was suffering in bed at 9 o'clock the following morning. The long and short of it is a Sunday defined by my matching vomiting with shitting, four apiece. The cherry on top came when simply brushing my teeth culminated in the fourth and final bout of regurgitation. Good times.
4. New Year's Eve, 1999: Next is the millennium New Year's Eve party I had at the beach house eight years ago. This was the first of many immortal shindigs to go down in south Jersey. We were still young; my dark secret is that I didn't know how to hold my liquor back then. We were only a few months removed from high school and the party had been built up so much. Everything was going without a hitch until the ball dropped. I don't recall much, but I can only assume that so much alcohol was consumed in the first twenty minutes of the new millennium that disaster ensued. What I do know is that I was vomiting face-down in the sand by 12:30. My girlfriend at the time ended up having to take care of me for most of the night as I writhed in pain screaming "What's happening to me?!?" Unlike the previous entry on this list I was not a seasoned veteran. As such, this was not a good time.
3. Prelude to Raz's 40s oz Party, 2007: I don't even recall what went down the night prior to this. What makes it worthy of this list is the sheer suffering that took place the following day, also the day of my friend Raz's annual 40-ounce birthday extravaganza. All I know is I entered the previous night planning to take it easy in preparation for the following day's debauchery. Clearly, I should have know better than to think I could control myself. At this time, I still took pride in the ability to abstain from getting sick the next day as a result of abusive drinking. Sure, it happens to us all from time to time, but up to this point the vast majority of my transgressions occurred near the point of so-called foul and not the next day. This occasion was different. I purged a record eight times the following afternoon, the last couple of which were pure blood. I was in such poor shape that, in order to buy time, I told my roommate I couldn't make the trip down to Philly. This infuriated him, as we'd had these plans weeks in advance. Eventually, I summoned the strength to ride shotgun in my own car the 100 minutes down the NJ Turnpike to Raz's place. The rest of the night went surprisingly well; after starting slow I found my groove and was able to take down several forties. Highlight of the evening, however, came in an exchange I had with some local chick. She approached asking to borrow a lighter. I obliged, after explaining how important it was for me to hold onto that particular lighter (I'd been trying to make a Bic last for a year, and explained this to her as such). She came back a few minutes later, handed me the lighter, and sat down to talk to me. Normally I would've considered myself lucky, but apparently vomiting blood and bile all day doesn't work wonders for one's breath. You should have seen the look on her face the first time I spoke. She put a hand over her mouth and gave me a look that was equal parts disbelief and despair. Needless to say I struck out. At least I got my lighter back.
2. Everclear urinal night, 2001: Around this time I had really gotten into grain alcohol. I went to school in Pennsylvania where it wasn't available, so returning from holiday breaks and long weekends from Jersey with Everclear was a big deal. I don't think I'm going out on much of a limb by saying that no one was as into it as I was. Sure, I'd sold a few bottles, used its high alcohol content to lure a couple unsuspecting women into bed, and shared plenty with my friends, but no one was as fond of the 195-proof sauce as me. After awhile, even my closest drinking partners abandoned the Clear for more conventional imbibing methods. It was around this time I found myself at my friends' apartment drinking the stuff alone. Everyone else was sipping liquor, but the problem is that Everclear is more than twice the potency of regular alcohol. It's actually perfectly safe and quite cost-effective when used properly, but when you take down the same volume as those drinking normal shit, disaster is bound to ensue. This time was no different. Of course I blacked out, and when I came to I was being shaken awake by my friend Dev. Vomit was everywhere. My head was resting on a urinal in my dormitory bathroom. Dev told me it was 7:30 in the morning, which to me meant I could sleep in. Only problem was that it was a Monday morning. Slowly I began to notice the faces of some of the early risers from my floor stepping over me, those I wasn't really friends with. I'll never forget the looks of disgust and pity they shot me. Dev was kind enough to help me to my bed where I remained for nearly 24 hours, sleeping intermittently, moaning and suffering without eating. It was one of the only times I've ever been ashamed of myself.
1. The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions, 2006: This was by far my worst hangover. It's dozens of levels in magnitude worse than my second worst hangover. I could even be talked into claiming it's the single most destructive hangover of all time, given the proper amount of alcohol necessary to make such a bold claim. It was summer 2006, and I was in Paraguay visiting a "friend" with a couple of my own. Let me state right from the start that this was the most unhealthy week of my life. First off, I was eating foreign food, much of which was slathered with this strange homemade hot sauce that resembled spoiled milk in both color and consistency. Second was the water, which no matter how safe it's claimed to be contains pathogens that outsiders just aren't used to. Third is the obvious element of nonstop drinking. What puts this situation over the top, and is likely the main reason for my extreme suffering, is that I refused to shit while I was there. Paraguay is a third-world country, officially speaking. It's normal in many respects, but its lack of infrastructure and common luxuries is what gives the country this distinction. When I got there, I was informed that you could not flush toilet paper down the toilet, as the drainage system was unable to handle it. This meant that upon wiping one's ass, one had to throw the soiled bombaclot in the garbage. This was unappealing to me. And that's just in the city...when in the jungle, where there are few proper toilets, one must squat over dugged holes in makeshift outhouses! Clearly I was disgusted, and made my voice heard as such from the get-go. Being that all my friendships are spiteful, my invocations fell on deaf ears. This upset me, so I made a bold proclamation: I would go the entire eight days in Paraguay without taking a shit. Of course, no one believed me, but I was determined.
It went on like this for days...eating, drinking, not shitting. Each morning became tougher to overcome, until about the fifth day it happened. It was a normal night by all accounts. There were about seven of us chilling in a bar downtown. At the end of the night when the bill came, I cavalierly declared I would pick up the tab. This is something I do often, to my detriment. Here I was lucky because seven people drinking in Asuncion for five hours apparently equal just $35 American. We took cabs back to the hotel, and I pushed for the night to continue. Being the bitch my "friend" Alistair is, he opted out in favor of sleep and sex with his girlfriend (what a loser!). Only Shampton, whom I halfheartedly admit is a fucking trooper, was down to keep going. We parted ways with the hottest all-girl rock band in the southern hemisphere, The Sandy Vaginas, and headed across the street to Cafecitos Pub. This place was a goldmine! The drinks were cheap even by their standards. The bar was empty, which I love. And, best of all, the two middle-aged female bartenders popped on interracial anal sex porn for our viewing pleasure!
They spoke no English and only I spoke minimal Spanish, so there was a definitive communication barrier. We settled our tab via a ledger they kept which was left on the bar top. Every so often one of us would give them money and they'd mark it down. At one point, I gave them 70,000 Guarani and went to the bathroom. A minute later, Shampton entered and told me he'd settled the most recent tab. The only problem was that I'd settled that same tab. These women tried to hustle us! I exited el bano hell-bent on revenge. I spent the next twenty minutes screaming expletives and broken Spanish about how we'd been cheated. The three or four other patrons in there were obviously frightened, but I remained undeterred. Even as Shampton lost interest and disassociated himself with me I continued fighting the good fight. I would not be denied. The bartenders argued their point faithfully, but soon enough they broke. In the end, the owner/head bartender handed me my money back. It was the equivalent of $5. I threw it down upon her, screaming "Inaceptable!" Shampton continued to ignore me. I left the bar and stumbled across the street to my hotel.
The next morning there was much rumbling about last night's events. The first thing I remember upon waking is severe suffering. Al and the boys were questioning me, nay, sticking it to me for the shit that went down. In an attempt to show them my actions were not grounded in drunkenness, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and chugged it. Immediately I realized it was a mistake. I coolly made my way to the bathroom, vomited, and returned as if nothing happened. I did my best to appear normal.
For reasons I can only chalk up to bad karma, that was the most active day of the entire trip. We walked all over the city as I moaned and groaned. That night we went to a very loud jazz club. Nearly 24 hours removed from the incident and I was having the hardest time of my life. The music was so loud, and I kept having to get up to walk around just to settle myself. I couldn't sit still, lest I vomit, and left the club at least ten times in four hours to fight the inevitable. I even walked to a nearby pharmacy looking for a miracle cure, each time returning in just as poor of shape as before. My friends were far too gleeful, only further compounding the problem.
I have never been nearly as hungover as that day before or since. In reading this entry back to myself there are no words to do it justice. In retrospect, it was much more than a hangover. It was a wholly new state of being. It's the reason why, in my group of friends, an entirely original term was lent to this phenomenon: The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions. The long-short of it is I spent 45 minutes in a Sao Paolo, Brazil airport bathroom and ended up ok in the end. I probably would've been better served to bite the bullet and shit in less than stellar conditions like everyone else. I'm sure it's the main reason why things played out the way they did. But you know what? I'm the only person who can say he lasted eight days in Paraguay without taking a crap. So there.
4. New Year's Eve, 1999: Next is the millennium New Year's Eve party I had at the beach house eight years ago. This was the first of many immortal shindigs to go down in south Jersey. We were still young; my dark secret is that I didn't know how to hold my liquor back then. We were only a few months removed from high school and the party had been built up so much. Everything was going without a hitch until the ball dropped. I don't recall much, but I can only assume that so much alcohol was consumed in the first twenty minutes of the new millennium that disaster ensued. What I do know is that I was vomiting face-down in the sand by 12:30. My girlfriend at the time ended up having to take care of me for most of the night as I writhed in pain screaming "What's happening to me?!?" Unlike the previous entry on this list I was not a seasoned veteran. As such, this was not a good time.
3. Prelude to Raz's 40s oz Party, 2007: I don't even recall what went down the night prior to this. What makes it worthy of this list is the sheer suffering that took place the following day, also the day of my friend Raz's annual 40-ounce birthday extravaganza. All I know is I entered the previous night planning to take it easy in preparation for the following day's debauchery. Clearly, I should have know better than to think I could control myself. At this time, I still took pride in the ability to abstain from getting sick the next day as a result of abusive drinking. Sure, it happens to us all from time to time, but up to this point the vast majority of my transgressions occurred near the point of so-called foul and not the next day. This occasion was different. I purged a record eight times the following afternoon, the last couple of which were pure blood. I was in such poor shape that, in order to buy time, I told my roommate I couldn't make the trip down to Philly. This infuriated him, as we'd had these plans weeks in advance. Eventually, I summoned the strength to ride shotgun in my own car the 100 minutes down the NJ Turnpike to Raz's place. The rest of the night went surprisingly well; after starting slow I found my groove and was able to take down several forties. Highlight of the evening, however, came in an exchange I had with some local chick. She approached asking to borrow a lighter. I obliged, after explaining how important it was for me to hold onto that particular lighter (I'd been trying to make a Bic last for a year, and explained this to her as such). She came back a few minutes later, handed me the lighter, and sat down to talk to me. Normally I would've considered myself lucky, but apparently vomiting blood and bile all day doesn't work wonders for one's breath. You should have seen the look on her face the first time I spoke. She put a hand over her mouth and gave me a look that was equal parts disbelief and despair. Needless to say I struck out. At least I got my lighter back.
2. Everclear urinal night, 2001: Around this time I had really gotten into grain alcohol. I went to school in Pennsylvania where it wasn't available, so returning from holiday breaks and long weekends from Jersey with Everclear was a big deal. I don't think I'm going out on much of a limb by saying that no one was as into it as I was. Sure, I'd sold a few bottles, used its high alcohol content to lure a couple unsuspecting women into bed, and shared plenty with my friends, but no one was as fond of the 195-proof sauce as me. After awhile, even my closest drinking partners abandoned the Clear for more conventional imbibing methods. It was around this time I found myself at my friends' apartment drinking the stuff alone. Everyone else was sipping liquor, but the problem is that Everclear is more than twice the potency of regular alcohol. It's actually perfectly safe and quite cost-effective when used properly, but when you take down the same volume as those drinking normal shit, disaster is bound to ensue. This time was no different. Of course I blacked out, and when I came to I was being shaken awake by my friend Dev. Vomit was everywhere. My head was resting on a urinal in my dormitory bathroom. Dev told me it was 7:30 in the morning, which to me meant I could sleep in. Only problem was that it was a Monday morning. Slowly I began to notice the faces of some of the early risers from my floor stepping over me, those I wasn't really friends with. I'll never forget the looks of disgust and pity they shot me. Dev was kind enough to help me to my bed where I remained for nearly 24 hours, sleeping intermittently, moaning and suffering without eating. It was one of the only times I've ever been ashamed of myself.
1. The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions, 2006: This was by far my worst hangover. It's dozens of levels in magnitude worse than my second worst hangover. I could even be talked into claiming it's the single most destructive hangover of all time, given the proper amount of alcohol necessary to make such a bold claim. It was summer 2006, and I was in Paraguay visiting a "friend" with a couple of my own. Let me state right from the start that this was the most unhealthy week of my life. First off, I was eating foreign food, much of which was slathered with this strange homemade hot sauce that resembled spoiled milk in both color and consistency. Second was the water, which no matter how safe it's claimed to be contains pathogens that outsiders just aren't used to. Third is the obvious element of nonstop drinking. What puts this situation over the top, and is likely the main reason for my extreme suffering, is that I refused to shit while I was there. Paraguay is a third-world country, officially speaking. It's normal in many respects, but its lack of infrastructure and common luxuries is what gives the country this distinction. When I got there, I was informed that you could not flush toilet paper down the toilet, as the drainage system was unable to handle it. This meant that upon wiping one's ass, one had to throw the soiled bombaclot in the garbage. This was unappealing to me. And that's just in the city...when in the jungle, where there are few proper toilets, one must squat over dugged holes in makeshift outhouses! Clearly I was disgusted, and made my voice heard as such from the get-go. Being that all my friendships are spiteful, my invocations fell on deaf ears. This upset me, so I made a bold proclamation: I would go the entire eight days in Paraguay without taking a shit. Of course, no one believed me, but I was determined.
It went on like this for days...eating, drinking, not shitting. Each morning became tougher to overcome, until about the fifth day it happened. It was a normal night by all accounts. There were about seven of us chilling in a bar downtown. At the end of the night when the bill came, I cavalierly declared I would pick up the tab. This is something I do often, to my detriment. Here I was lucky because seven people drinking in Asuncion for five hours apparently equal just $35 American. We took cabs back to the hotel, and I pushed for the night to continue. Being the bitch my "friend" Alistair is, he opted out in favor of sleep and sex with his girlfriend (what a loser!). Only Shampton, whom I halfheartedly admit is a fucking trooper, was down to keep going. We parted ways with the hottest all-girl rock band in the southern hemisphere, The Sandy Vaginas, and headed across the street to Cafecitos Pub. This place was a goldmine! The drinks were cheap even by their standards. The bar was empty, which I love. And, best of all, the two middle-aged female bartenders popped on interracial anal sex porn for our viewing pleasure!
They spoke no English and only I spoke minimal Spanish, so there was a definitive communication barrier. We settled our tab via a ledger they kept which was left on the bar top. Every so often one of us would give them money and they'd mark it down. At one point, I gave them 70,000 Guarani and went to the bathroom. A minute later, Shampton entered and told me he'd settled the most recent tab. The only problem was that I'd settled that same tab. These women tried to hustle us! I exited el bano hell-bent on revenge. I spent the next twenty minutes screaming expletives and broken Spanish about how we'd been cheated. The three or four other patrons in there were obviously frightened, but I remained undeterred. Even as Shampton lost interest and disassociated himself with me I continued fighting the good fight. I would not be denied. The bartenders argued their point faithfully, but soon enough they broke. In the end, the owner/head bartender handed me my money back. It was the equivalent of $5. I threw it down upon her, screaming "Inaceptable!" Shampton continued to ignore me. I left the bar and stumbled across the street to my hotel.
The next morning there was much rumbling about last night's events. The first thing I remember upon waking is severe suffering. Al and the boys were questioning me, nay, sticking it to me for the shit that went down. In an attempt to show them my actions were not grounded in drunkenness, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey and chugged it. Immediately I realized it was a mistake. I coolly made my way to the bathroom, vomited, and returned as if nothing happened. I did my best to appear normal.
For reasons I can only chalk up to bad karma, that was the most active day of the entire trip. We walked all over the city as I moaned and groaned. That night we went to a very loud jazz club. Nearly 24 hours removed from the incident and I was having the hardest time of my life. The music was so loud, and I kept having to get up to walk around just to settle myself. I couldn't sit still, lest I vomit, and left the club at least ten times in four hours to fight the inevitable. I even walked to a nearby pharmacy looking for a miracle cure, each time returning in just as poor of shape as before. My friends were far too gleeful, only further compounding the problem.
I have never been nearly as hungover as that day before or since. In reading this entry back to myself there are no words to do it justice. In retrospect, it was much more than a hangover. It was a wholly new state of being. It's the reason why, in my group of friends, an entirely original term was lent to this phenomenon: The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions. The long-short of it is I spent 45 minutes in a Sao Paolo, Brazil airport bathroom and ended up ok in the end. I probably would've been better served to bite the bullet and shit in less than stellar conditions like everyone else. I'm sure it's the main reason why things played out the way they did. But you know what? I'm the only person who can say he lasted eight days in Paraguay without taking a crap. So there.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Weekly Poll Not Wednesdays!!!
Ok, it's not Wednesday. It's been more than a month since I put up the last poll. I have no right calling it "Weekly Poll Wednesdays." I get it. I get it. Relax, I have no energy. Last time we pontificated upon the best horror movie franchise. Here are the results:
Saw (36.4%)
Nightmare On Elm Street (27.3%)
Halloween (18.2%)
George Romero's Zombie Films (9.1%)
Friday The 13th (9.1%)
You all liked Saw. Fine. I voted for Jason, which came in last. This tells me people today spurn movies "before their time" for films they remember being in theaters last year. Don't get me wrong, I like all the Saw movies. It's just that I'm able to recognize superior film making over glitz and glamor. Perhaps you're not. I'm amused by the fact that the two selections I would have placed at the top of this poll came in last. Shame on you. Do yourselves a favor and study up. Damn, there goes my Kurosawa poll.
*********************
Since no one besides myself is up to the task, filmically speaking, see if you can wrap your heads around this: How would you, faithful reader, describe me? I've provided selections with little thought involved. Of course, my introduction to this week's poll may have answered the question for you already (hint???). This is a good question to pose right now, since I'll be out of your lives for the next couple of weeks (more on this in future posts). Use this poll question to satisfy your jones for Can I Live? in the meantime.
Saw (36.4%)
Nightmare On Elm Street (27.3%)
Halloween (18.2%)
George Romero's Zombie Films (9.1%)
Friday The 13th (9.1%)
You all liked Saw. Fine. I voted for Jason, which came in last. This tells me people today spurn movies "before their time" for films they remember being in theaters last year. Don't get me wrong, I like all the Saw movies. It's just that I'm able to recognize superior film making over glitz and glamor. Perhaps you're not. I'm amused by the fact that the two selections I would have placed at the top of this poll came in last. Shame on you. Do yourselves a favor and study up. Damn, there goes my Kurosawa poll.
*********************
Since no one besides myself is up to the task, filmically speaking, see if you can wrap your heads around this: How would you, faithful reader, describe me? I've provided selections with little thought involved. Of course, my introduction to this week's poll may have answered the question for you already (hint???). This is a good question to pose right now, since I'll be out of your lives for the next couple of weeks (more on this in future posts). Use this poll question to satisfy your jones for Can I Live? in the meantime.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Top 5 Hangovers
5. Penn State vs. Wisconsin, 2008: The fifth-worst hangover I've experienced occurred a few Sundays ago, as a result of the previous night's festivities. I was out early on Saturday at a Penn State gathering for the game vs Wisconsin. I got it in my head early on that I wouldn't duplicate the same drink, nor the same type of alcohol, for the rest of the night. Upon proclaiming this, and ordering shots of tequila after I'd already had beer, wine, gin, scotch, and vodka, my friend Kellen warned me I'd "hate myself tomorrow." Boy was he right. Everyone else seemed to have the good sense to call it a night around 11pm, after a good five hours of hard drinking. Not me. I decided it'd be a good idea to stumble across town and go on a Jaeger and Irish car bomb binge until the bar closed at 4am. Next I remembered, I was suffering in bed at 9 o'clock the following morning. The long and short of it is a Sunday defined by my matching vomiting with shitting, four apiece. The cherry on top came when simply brushing my teeth culminated in the fourth and final bout of regurgitation. Good times.
4. New Year's Eve, 1999: Next is the millennium New Year's Eve party I had at the beach house eight years ago. This was the first of many immortal shindigs to go down in south Jersey. We were still young; my dark secret is that I didn't know how to hold my liquor back then. We were only a few months removed from high school and the party had been built up so much. Everything was going without a hitch until the ball dropped. I don't recall much, but I can only assume that so much alcohol was consumed in the first twenty minutes of the new millennium that disaster ensued. What I do know is that I was vomiting face-down in the sand by 12:30. My girlfriend at the time ended up having to take care of me for most of the night as I writhed in pain screaming "What's happening to me?!?" Unlike the previous entry on this list I was not a seasoned veteran. As such, this was not a good time.
3. Prelude to Raz's 40s oz Party, 2007: I don't even recall what went down the night prior to this. What makes it worthy of this list is the sheer suffering that took place the following day, also the day of my friend Raz's annual 40-ounce birthday extravaganza. All I know is I entered the previous night planning to take it easy in preparation for the following day's debauchery. Clearly, I should have know better than to think I could control myself. At this time, I still took pride in the ability to abstain from getting sick the next day as a result of abusive drinking. Sure, it happens to us all from time to time, but up to this point the vast majority of my transgressions occurred near the point of so-called foul and not the next day. This occasion was different. I purged a record eight times the following afternoon, the last couple of which were pure blood. I was in such poor shape that, in order to buy time, I told my roommate I couldn't make the trip down to Philly. This infuriated him, as we'd had these plans weeks in advance. Eventually, I summoned the strength to ride shotgun in my own car the 100 minutes down the NJ Turnpike to Raz's place. The rest of the night went surprisingly well; after starting slow I found my groove and was able to take down several forties. Highlight of the evening, however, came in an exchange I had with some local chick. She approached asking to borrow a lighter. I obliged, after explaining how important it was for me to hold onto that particular lighter (I'd been trying to make a Bic last for a year, and explained this to her as such). She came back a few minutes later, handed me the lighter, and sat down to talk to me. Normally I would've considered myself lucky, but apparently vomiting blood and bile all day doesn't work wonders for one's breath. You should have seen the look on her face the first time I spoke. She put a hand over her mouth and gave me a look that was equal parts disbelief and despair. Needless to say I struck out. At least I got my lighter back.
2. Everclear urinal night, 2001: Around this time I had really gotten into grain alcohol. I went to school in Pennsylvania where it wasn't available, so returning from holiday breaks and long weekends from Jersey with Everclear was a big deal. I don't think I'm going out on much of a limb by saying that no one was as into it as I was. Sure, I'd sold a few bottles, used its high alcohol content to lure a couple unsuspecting women into bed, and shared plenty with my friends, but no one was as fond of the 195-proof sauce as me. After awhile, even my closest drinking partners abandoned the Clear for more conventional imbibing methods. It was around this time I found myself at my friends' apartment drinking the stuff alone. Everyone else was sipping liquor, but the problem is that Everclear is more than twice the potency of regular alcohol. It's actually perfectly safe and quite cost-effective when used properly, but when you take down the same volume as those drinking normal shit, disaster is bound to ensue. This time was no different. Of course I blacked out, and when I came to I was being shaken awake by my friend Dev. Vomit was everywhere. My head was resting on a urinal in my dormitory bathroom. Dev told me it was 7:30 in the morning, which to me meant I could sleep in. Only problem was that it was a Monday morning. Slowly I began to notice the faces of some of the early risers from my floor stepping over me, those I wasn't really friends with. I'll never forget the looks of disgust and pity they shot me. Dev was kind enough to help me to my bed where I remained for nearly 24 hours, sleeping intermittently, moaning and suffering without eating. It was one of the only times I've ever been ashamed of myself.
1. The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions, 2006: This was by far my worst hangover. It's dozens of levels in magnitude worse than my second worst hangover. I could even be talked into claiming it's the single most destructive hangover of all time, given the proper amount of alcohol necessary to make such a bold claim.
4. New Year's Eve, 1999: Next is the millennium New Year's Eve party I had at the beach house eight years ago. This was the first of many immortal shindigs to go down in south Jersey. We were still young; my dark secret is that I didn't know how to hold my liquor back then. We were only a few months removed from high school and the party had been built up so much. Everything was going without a hitch until the ball dropped. I don't recall much, but I can only assume that so much alcohol was consumed in the first twenty minutes of the new millennium that disaster ensued. What I do know is that I was vomiting face-down in the sand by 12:30. My girlfriend at the time ended up having to take care of me for most of the night as I writhed in pain screaming "What's happening to me?!?" Unlike the previous entry on this list I was not a seasoned veteran. As such, this was not a good time.
3. Prelude to Raz's 40s oz Party, 2007: I don't even recall what went down the night prior to this. What makes it worthy of this list is the sheer suffering that took place the following day, also the day of my friend Raz's annual 40-ounce birthday extravaganza. All I know is I entered the previous night planning to take it easy in preparation for the following day's debauchery. Clearly, I should have know better than to think I could control myself. At this time, I still took pride in the ability to abstain from getting sick the next day as a result of abusive drinking. Sure, it happens to us all from time to time, but up to this point the vast majority of my transgressions occurred near the point of so-called foul and not the next day. This occasion was different. I purged a record eight times the following afternoon, the last couple of which were pure blood. I was in such poor shape that, in order to buy time, I told my roommate I couldn't make the trip down to Philly. This infuriated him, as we'd had these plans weeks in advance. Eventually, I summoned the strength to ride shotgun in my own car the 100 minutes down the NJ Turnpike to Raz's place. The rest of the night went surprisingly well; after starting slow I found my groove and was able to take down several forties. Highlight of the evening, however, came in an exchange I had with some local chick. She approached asking to borrow a lighter. I obliged, after explaining how important it was for me to hold onto that particular lighter (I'd been trying to make a Bic last for a year, and explained this to her as such). She came back a few minutes later, handed me the lighter, and sat down to talk to me. Normally I would've considered myself lucky, but apparently vomiting blood and bile all day doesn't work wonders for one's breath. You should have seen the look on her face the first time I spoke. She put a hand over her mouth and gave me a look that was equal parts disbelief and despair. Needless to say I struck out. At least I got my lighter back.
2. Everclear urinal night, 2001: Around this time I had really gotten into grain alcohol. I went to school in Pennsylvania where it wasn't available, so returning from holiday breaks and long weekends from Jersey with Everclear was a big deal. I don't think I'm going out on much of a limb by saying that no one was as into it as I was. Sure, I'd sold a few bottles, used its high alcohol content to lure a couple unsuspecting women into bed, and shared plenty with my friends, but no one was as fond of the 195-proof sauce as me. After awhile, even my closest drinking partners abandoned the Clear for more conventional imbibing methods. It was around this time I found myself at my friends' apartment drinking the stuff alone. Everyone else was sipping liquor, but the problem is that Everclear is more than twice the potency of regular alcohol. It's actually perfectly safe and quite cost-effective when used properly, but when you take down the same volume as those drinking normal shit, disaster is bound to ensue. This time was no different. Of course I blacked out, and when I came to I was being shaken awake by my friend Dev. Vomit was everywhere. My head was resting on a urinal in my dormitory bathroom. Dev told me it was 7:30 in the morning, which to me meant I could sleep in. Only problem was that it was a Monday morning. Slowly I began to notice the faces of some of the early risers from my floor stepping over me, those I wasn't really friends with. I'll never forget the looks of disgust and pity they shot me. Dev was kind enough to help me to my bed where I remained for nearly 24 hours, sleeping intermittently, moaning and suffering without eating. It was one of the only times I've ever been ashamed of myself.
1. The Hangover of Paraguayan Proportions, 2006: This was by far my worst hangover. It's dozens of levels in magnitude worse than my second worst hangover. I could even be talked into claiming it's the single most destructive hangover of all time, given the proper amount of alcohol necessary to make such a bold claim.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
A Great Day To Be Alive
I actually didn't drink last night. I know! I watched a bunch of television, checked out a couple movies, played a respectable amount of freecell and solitaire, and, at the end of the night, got in bed and began a book. The problem with someone in my position not drinking is that you can't settle in to read the meanderings of an alcoholic writer and expect to not drink. I stuck with it for awhile, but by eight in the morning I couldn't take it anymore. Having not slept yet I cracked my first brew at a quarter after. Now I'm writing to you. I figure I'll imbibe leisurely until I'm tired enough to pass out. Hopefully that works.
Update: It's 10:47 and I've officially ran out of alcohol. Just returned from an adventure to purchase some beer and wine. Only problem is the damn store isn't open yet. Man, what does a brother have to do to get his drink on?!? Jesus give me strength! It appears this is the end of the road. Goodnight I guess.
Update Redux: It's 12:41pm and I HAVE PERSEVERED! I planned on throwing in the towel, sadly, after my failed expedition to the liquor store. However, when all seemed lost I stumbled upon some rum my roommate had stashed away. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I drank that shit. Fuck him anyway; he'll likely understand I need this. His Captain subsided me until the liquor store opened. I watched pre-recorded Jeopardy to pass the time. It was unfruitful, academically.
Noon passed and I made my triumphant return to the liquor store. I enjoy being out in public intoxicated and still awake from the night before. You walk amongst the savages and chuckle to yourself over your dirty little secret. It's one of the only situations in which I feel comfortable in my own skin. Anyway, I bought a six-pack and a bottle of Beaujolais. this should last me at least until I'm able to go to sleep, reawaken, and return to Yash Liquors.
On a side note, I had much difficulty completing my liquor store task. Nothing due to a lack of brain cells, mind you. I'm used to that. It's because I had no contacts in. I usually only wear my glasses at night, but my eyes have been bothering me the past few days. Now, I don't have a problem wearing my glasses out. This isn't a vanity issue. The problem is that I've had the same pair for at least ten years. They're mangled, crooked, and most importantly, missing the horizontal piece that curls around your ear on one side (what is that called? It's not coming to me). And that, combined with my drunkenness among common folk is just too much to handle. So I went to the store without them. I guess it wasn't that much of a problem, but man, I'd be really interested to have a camera crew follow me around in these situations. I must have been deciding on wine and beer with my face an inch from the bottle. What the guy behind the counter must have thought...
So that's my story. At least so far, anyway. I doubt I'll post again today but who knows. And by the way, I know the Top 5 Hangovers piece I promised is overdue. It's still pending. I have a hard time concentrating most of the time, especially when something becomes a bonafide deadline. Also, I haven't been drinking much the past couple weeks, believe it or not. You all know by now that I can only do this shit (or anything) drunk, so bear with me. Cheers.
Update: It's 10:47 and I've officially ran out of alcohol. Just returned from an adventure to purchase some beer and wine. Only problem is the damn store isn't open yet. Man, what does a brother have to do to get his drink on?!? Jesus give me strength! It appears this is the end of the road. Goodnight I guess.
Update Redux: It's 12:41pm and I HAVE PERSEVERED! I planned on throwing in the towel, sadly, after my failed expedition to the liquor store. However, when all seemed lost I stumbled upon some rum my roommate had stashed away. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I drank that shit. Fuck him anyway; he'll likely understand I need this. His Captain subsided me until the liquor store opened. I watched pre-recorded Jeopardy to pass the time. It was unfruitful, academically.
Noon passed and I made my triumphant return to the liquor store. I enjoy being out in public intoxicated and still awake from the night before. You walk amongst the savages and chuckle to yourself over your dirty little secret. It's one of the only situations in which I feel comfortable in my own skin. Anyway, I bought a six-pack and a bottle of Beaujolais. this should last me at least until I'm able to go to sleep, reawaken, and return to Yash Liquors.
On a side note, I had much difficulty completing my liquor store task. Nothing due to a lack of brain cells, mind you. I'm used to that. It's because I had no contacts in. I usually only wear my glasses at night, but my eyes have been bothering me the past few days. Now, I don't have a problem wearing my glasses out. This isn't a vanity issue. The problem is that I've had the same pair for at least ten years. They're mangled, crooked, and most importantly, missing the horizontal piece that curls around your ear on one side (what is that called? It's not coming to me). And that, combined with my drunkenness among common folk is just too much to handle. So I went to the store without them. I guess it wasn't that much of a problem, but man, I'd be really interested to have a camera crew follow me around in these situations. I must have been deciding on wine and beer with my face an inch from the bottle. What the guy behind the counter must have thought...
So that's my story. At least so far, anyway. I doubt I'll post again today but who knows. And by the way, I know the Top 5 Hangovers piece I promised is overdue. It's still pending. I have a hard time concentrating most of the time, especially when something becomes a bonafide deadline. Also, I haven't been drinking much the past couple weeks, believe it or not. You all know by now that I can only do this shit (or anything) drunk, so bear with me. Cheers.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Johnson & Jonson
You've likely never heard of these guys. And I'm sure you're unfamiliar with Blu. Trust me though, that won't last. Dude is one the the hottest newcomers in a long while. Listen to my man kill this track and then try and disagree. Didn't think so.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Can I Live?: A cross between Chuck Klosterman and Charles Bukowski
So says my good friends at PerfSpot.com. This is quite the compliment. And I would know, I looked it up. For those not in awares, this fine website you're currently perusing was recently featured on their site. Apparently, the mixture of randomness, misogyny, and references to alcoholism is just what the doctor ordered. Can you blame them? I'm the shit! But seriously, your boy is taking off. Big time. This opportunity has re-energized me. I would love to get paid for something I already do for free. Now if only I could find a way to be rewarded for masturbating, watching television and sampling assorted spirits.
Various collaborations are in the works with PerfSpot for the future. You can look forward to artist features, interviews, assorted articles and more shit jockin' the fantastical nature of my genius here on Can I Live?, all involving yours truly. You really should check it out. (As of the date of this writing, you can find my feature a couple pages down the music outlet section.) Plus, you can expect the same level of drunken ridiculousness you get from me on this site. I made it a point to put it in my contract.
Quick side note: I wish people could see how long it takes me to type these posts. I'm almost always too drunk to type, let alone put cohesive thoughts together. It takes me forever. Take tonight for instance. The time stamp you all see on the site is from the moment I open a new post. In actuality, it's probably gonna take me more than a half hour to get through all this. That's because I 1) can't type worth shit, 2) need to constantly backtrack to fix mistakes, 3) don't have the mental fortitude to follow what I'm writing about, and 4) must go back and reread what I've just written on an alarmingly regular basis just so I can put a consistent thought together. It's a real pain in the ass.
Anyway, please don't let that deter you. Charles Bukowski, as it turns out, is someone I should probably consider an influence and hero. His shit is hilarious and amazing. If my writing could be even a fraction as poignant as his I'd be more than satisfied. I'm considering taking a series of dead-end jobs, making it a point to sleep with loose and immoral women, drinking (more) profusely, and sending a bunch of treatments to just one publisher out of spite. Hey, if it worked for him, why can't it do the same for me?
*** Up next: Top Five Hangovers. This will hopefully be a good one. Look for it sometime mid-week.
Various collaborations are in the works with PerfSpot for the future. You can look forward to artist features, interviews, assorted articles and more shit jockin' the fantastical nature of my genius here on Can I Live?, all involving yours truly. You really should check it out. (As of the date of this writing, you can find my feature a couple pages down the music outlet section.) Plus, you can expect the same level of drunken ridiculousness you get from me on this site. I made it a point to put it in my contract.
Quick side note: I wish people could see how long it takes me to type these posts. I'm almost always too drunk to type, let alone put cohesive thoughts together. It takes me forever. Take tonight for instance. The time stamp you all see on the site is from the moment I open a new post. In actuality, it's probably gonna take me more than a half hour to get through all this. That's because I 1) can't type worth shit, 2) need to constantly backtrack to fix mistakes, 3) don't have the mental fortitude to follow what I'm writing about, and 4) must go back and reread what I've just written on an alarmingly regular basis just so I can put a consistent thought together. It's a real pain in the ass.
Anyway, please don't let that deter you. Charles Bukowski, as it turns out, is someone I should probably consider an influence and hero. His shit is hilarious and amazing. If my writing could be even a fraction as poignant as his I'd be more than satisfied. I'm considering taking a series of dead-end jobs, making it a point to sleep with loose and immoral women, drinking (more) profusely, and sending a bunch of treatments to just one publisher out of spite. Hey, if it worked for him, why can't it do the same for me?
*** Up next: Top Five Hangovers. This will hopefully be a good one. Look for it sometime mid-week.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
It's Gettin' Better (Man!!)
Finally, those Americans I might consider honkies didn't fuck it up for the rest of us. Sound bitter? That's because I was bitter. Not anymore; now it's your turn. Please don't get it twisted, though. I'm proud to have no party affiliation. I've voted both ways based on what's best for the country as a whole. I'm just happy I don't have to hang out with my parents as often just for the free booze. My man's gonna turn this thing around! Enjoy the celebratory tune below.
Oasis - It's Gettin' Better (Man!!)
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
PerfSpot: A social networking site
Howdy folks! Recently I've begun working in conjunction with PerfSpot, a rapidly growing social networking website with many unique and interactive features available to users. Of special interest to me is their music section. Here you can get the latest music news, discover new artists, create playlists and stream audio content. If you're like me, and have an insatiable thirst for new and different music, you'll want to check this out. I've begun working with their music director, and you'll be happy to know Can I Live? will be featured regularly on the site. We're still working out the details, but this can include links and discussion to content on my blog, guest playlists from yours truly, and features on artists I enjoy. I'm already working with Matt, the director, on an article for Oasis' new album. So how about showing me some support and checking 'em out? Create an account as well. I doubt you'll be sorry. Go ahead and click the link below. Later, gators!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Weekly Poll Wednesdays!!!
I might have to rename these posts. Clearly I don't have the wherewithal to create and write about new polls each week. What can I say? Perhaps if I had more incentive I could make it happen. Perhaps if you voted more often, I'd be energized to stick to deadlines. That's right, I'm transferring blame onto my reader(s). You're all so selfish. Anyway, onward to the business at hand. Two weeks ago, on the heels of the Saturday Night Live sketches involving Tina Fey's portrayal of Vice Presidential candidate Sarah Palin, I posed the question I feel we were all thinking: Which of these two women would maker the better VP of the United States? Palin and her doppelganger, Fey, are so identical that choosing one for the White House is basically a wash. This is my opinion, anyway, but let's take a look at America's response:
Sarah Palin (43.5%)
Tina Fey (56.5%)
So there you have it! The people have spoken. Tina Fey would make a better Veep. Maybe it's the intellectual aura she gives off that has more than half of this great nation convinced. Or maybe it's the Sarah Palin glasses she wears during sketches. Either way it's moot. Just remember that if McCain wins this Tuesday, some of you who voted him in did so knowing full well his second in command plays second fiddle to Tina Fey.
**********************
I was tempted to conduct another politically-minded poll this week given the fact the Superest of all Tuesdays is upon us. Then I remembered most of you don't come here for all this political posturing, and that I'd essentially just be amusing myself. So, in its place enjoy this Halloween-themed poll. I happen to love this holiday. More so, I love horror movies. The question I pose to you is, what is the greatest horror movie franchise of all time? You've all seen these movies, and I know you have an opinion, so just vote. Or die. Vote or die...either or. Enjoy Halloween, bitches!
Sarah Palin (43.5%)
Tina Fey (56.5%)
So there you have it! The people have spoken. Tina Fey would make a better Veep. Maybe it's the intellectual aura she gives off that has more than half of this great nation convinced. Or maybe it's the Sarah Palin glasses she wears during sketches. Either way it's moot. Just remember that if McCain wins this Tuesday, some of you who voted him in did so knowing full well his second in command plays second fiddle to Tina Fey.
**********************
I was tempted to conduct another politically-minded poll this week given the fact the Superest of all Tuesdays is upon us. Then I remembered most of you don't come here for all this political posturing, and that I'd essentially just be amusing myself. So, in its place enjoy this Halloween-themed poll. I happen to love this holiday. More so, I love horror movies. The question I pose to you is, what is the greatest horror movie franchise of all time? You've all seen these movies, and I know you have an opinion, so just vote. Or die. Vote or die...either or. Enjoy Halloween, bitches!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Top 5 Worst Hangovers
5. Penn State vs. Wisconsin, 2008: The fifth-worst hangover I've experienced occurred this past Sunday, as a result of the previous night's festivities. I was out early on Saturday at a Penn State gathering for the game vs Wisconsin. I got it in my head early on that I wouldn't duplicate the same drink, nor the same type of alcohol, for the rest of the night. Upon proclaiming this, and ordering shots of tequila after I'd already had beer, wine, gin, scotch, and vodka, my friend Kellen warned me I'd "hate myself tomorrow." Boy was he right. Everyone else seemed to have the good sense to call it a night around 11pm, after a good five hours of hard drinking. Not me. I decided it'd be a good idea to stumble across town and go on a Jaeger and Irish car bomb binge until the bar closed at 4am. Next I remembered, I was suffering in bed at 9 o'clock the following morning. The long and short of it is a Sunday defined by my matching vomiting with shitting, four apiece. The cherry on top came when simply brushing my teeth culminated in the fourth and final bout of regurgitation. Good times.
4. New Year's Eve, 1999: Next is the millennium New Year's Eve party I had at the beach house eight years ago. This was the first of many immortal shindigs to go down in south Jersey. We were still young; my dark secret is that I didn't know how to hold my liquor back then. We were only a few months removed from high school and the party had been built up so much. Everything was going without a hitch until the ball dropped. I don't recall much, but I can only assume that so much alcohol was consumed in the first twenty minutes of the new millennium that disaster ensued. What I do know is that I was vomiting face-down in the sand by 12:30. My girlfriend at the time ended up having to take care of me for most of the night as I writhed in pain screaming "What's happening to me?!?" Unlike the previous entry on this list I was not a seasoned veteran. As such, this was not a good time.
3. Prelude to Raz's 40s oz Party, 2007: I don't even recall what went down the night prior to this. What makes it worthy of this list is the shear suffering that took place the following day, also the day of Raz's annual 40-ounce birthday extravaganza. All I know is I entered the previous night planning to take it easy in preparation for the following day's debauchery. Clearly, I should have know better than to think I could control myself. At this time, I still prided myself on the ability to abstain from getting sick the next day as a result of abusive drinking. Sure, it happens to us all from time to time, but up to this point the vast majority of my transgressions occurred near the point of so-called foul and not the next day.
.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Friday Bad Ideas
Is it Friday? I'm pretty sure it is, because It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia was on last night. Funniest show on tv, bar none (just saying). So yeah, I guess that makes it time for another installment of Friday Bad Ideas. Here goes...
That picture you see above is of me wearing my T.A.T.U. shirt. That's Teens Against Tobacco Use, not the Russian Lesbian pop music group. Clearly, I'm not a teen. I'm also not against tobacco use, what with my penchant for butt-smoking and all that (no homo). What I am for is irony. It's hilarious! For me, few everyday observances are more humorous than walking down the street and seeing some guy wearing a t-shirt that reads "Too smart to start too cool to smoke" while actually smoking a cigarette. That's just me.
Is this, in and of itself, a bad idea? Not at all. Not in my opinion. The middle-aged hoo-er walking with her toddler I encountered this afternoon felt otherwise. Here's a basic rundown of what transpired:
Me: (walking down street, smoking cigarette, minding own business)
Hoo-er: (directional stink eyes abound)
Me: (confused, unconcerned)
Hoo-er: "You know, you're sending the wrong message to children with that shirt."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Hoo-er: "That shirt, I'm not amused by it."
Me: "You're not amused by the message of the shirt, or the fact I'm smoking a cigarette?"
Hoo-er: "Both."
Me: "Are you sure? Because that's contradictory. How can you be simultaneously against someone smoking cigarettes and wearing an anti-smoking shirt?"
Hoo-er: "Because it's bad enough my child is subjected to second-hand smoke, let alone having to be subjected to this kind of wrong message about smoking."
Me: Your child can't read. What is she three years old?"
Hoo-er: "That's besides the point. You need to accept responsibility for your actions! Blah blah blah, yada yada yada, so on and so forth."
Me: (shakes head in disgust, decides to take high road and walk away)
Hoo-er: "That's right, walk away! We don't need people like you walking around on these streets!"
And that's pretty much it. The whole thing lasted less than thirty seconds, but the transfer of nerve from her person unto me was enough for a lifetime. The nerve! First off, I pride myself in always taking others viewpoints, feelings, and concerns into account; it has always been this way unless I'm drunk. So, arguably, it has always been this way roughly 45% of the time (I was sober at the point of this exchange). With that said, I always blow my smoke away from passerbys on the street and even go so far as to switch my cigarette from hand to hand and hold it out accordingly so as to keep it as far away from children as possible. I understand parents don't want it around their kids; I make it a point to oblige the general public above and beyond what is socially acceptable.
With all that said, fuck this lady. I think I've successfully demonstrated how much stock I put in the adherence to social mores. Did I deserve this?!? Shit, the vast majority of the population doesn't go nearly as out of there way for these people. Matter of fact, had I not been so respectful, I would have given this hoo-er one of my patented Drunk Capps-style what fors. I probably should have...shows what I get for being a good person.
At the end of the day, I am once again left with the feeling of shock and awe from yet another negative encounter in public. This is proof positive of two things: (1) There are several people, organized or not, out to get me, and (2) The end is nigh. I truly can't think of a better topic for an F.B.I. post. This hoo-er is a moron. Her reaction was a bad idea. I'll leave her deserved penance up to karma.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Weekly Poll Wednesdays...On Tuesday!!!!
I've decided to get into this poll business even though it's technically Tuesday. Being the proprietor of this website, as well as the one struggling for survival, I figure I'm in the driver's seat here; deal with it. Let's get down to brass tacks, shall we? Two weeks ago I posed an important question that had been heatedly debated between me and my friend, Russ. If you were 60 years old, and currently unfulfilled, would you castrate yourself for one glorious night with a 19-year old perfect ten? Russ posed this question to me awhile back. He posits that 70% of applicable participants would vote yes. I found this to be an absurd proposition, guesstimating that less than 10% would be up for the getdown. Certainly, these are two extremely differing viewpoints. Lets take a look at the results and determine a winner.
Yes (14%)
No (86%)
It appears I'm the clear winner, though my guess of ten percent was a bit low. But come on, seventy percent? Let's get real! No self respecting person should agree to such terms. I don't care how perfect a "ten" this teenager is. Perhaps this would be a feasible opportunity for an octogenarian; I don't know, what with Viagra and all that. I cannot, however, sign off on someone as young as sixty committing to such a harrowing experience as castration for one night of sexual satisfaction. I mean, dayumn...sex isn't even that great! Is it?
************
I feel it necessary to return to the American political spectrum with this week'(s) poll. After all, we are embroiled in the "most important" election of our times. This week's question specifically concerns Sarah Palin. I'd like to know who would be the better VP, Sarah Palin or Tina Fey? For those of you not in the know, Ms. Fey, has put in three memorable performances in as many weeks as the potential second in command on Saturday Night Live. They're so close, in fact, that arguments could be made for either serving as this nation's Veep. For those of you not in the know, check out the video below to educate yourselves on the facts. Then make sure to vote in this poll, as the results will surely shape the future of both national and world history in the near future. Rock the vote or die, and all that.
Yes (14%)
No (86%)
It appears I'm the clear winner, though my guess of ten percent was a bit low. But come on, seventy percent? Let's get real! No self respecting person should agree to such terms. I don't care how perfect a "ten" this teenager is. Perhaps this would be a feasible opportunity for an octogenarian; I don't know, what with Viagra and all that. I cannot, however, sign off on someone as young as sixty committing to such a harrowing experience as castration for one night of sexual satisfaction. I mean, dayumn...sex isn't even that great! Is it?
************
I feel it necessary to return to the American political spectrum with this week'(s) poll. After all, we are embroiled in the "most important" election of our times. This week's question specifically concerns Sarah Palin. I'd like to know who would be the better VP, Sarah Palin or Tina Fey? For those of you not in the know, Ms. Fey, has put in three memorable performances in as many weeks as the potential second in command on Saturday Night Live. They're so close, in fact, that arguments could be made for either serving as this nation's Veep. For those of you not in the know, check out the video below to educate yourselves on the facts. Then make sure to vote in this poll, as the results will surely shape the future of both national and world history in the near future. Rock the vote or die, and all that.
Friday, September 26, 2008
So's Your Face (A Reluctant Ode to Shampton)
This has finally happened. I've been talking about this for awhile. This is what drunkards dream about. This...is...Ok, admittedly, I have no clue what I'm talking about. This is a disaster.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Disaster
This post is solely in the interest of full disclosure. I've been doing my best not to drink for some time now. I was exercising this evening (I know, no homo); upon my return I made a decision not to purchase alcohol prior to the midnight deadline. This decision proved to be disastrous. By the time I was done watching the new season's premiere of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, which is a supremely excellent show, I realized the mistake I'd made. I was wide awake and ready to drink. Try as I may, there was no reconciling my need for alcohol. I set upon my mission to buy the devil drink.
Much to my dismay, I arrived at the liquor store to realize it had been closed for eight minutes. Trips to nearby locations proved equally unfruitful. Dejected, I set about returning home. I had given up hope. But luckily, I passed a bar on my way back. Realizing this was my only opportunity to drink, I entered. There was but one seat open at the bar; I occupied it. What transpired from this point can only be described as drunken foolishness. I began with two shots of Jack and a G&T, followed with a beer and whiskey on rocks. After that was a scotch accompanied by a Redbull and vodka. After that is anybody's guess. I know I spent at least a couple of hours in there. One can only wonder the kind of fantasy that ensued. I know I applied for some sort of job. I also know I challenged the female bartender, in some convoluted effort to hit on her, to create a number of drinks to serve to me. I don't think her concoctions served me very well.
In short, I'm drunk and don't know what I'm talking about. Is this my fault? I'd like to think it's not, but who am I to judge? I'm no expert. I'm just a guy who took 90 minutes to type this abortion of a post. I'd feel sorry for myself, but you try having a drinking problem. That's what I thought...go fuck yourself. I knew you weren't better than me.
Much to my dismay, I arrived at the liquor store to realize it had been closed for eight minutes. Trips to nearby locations proved equally unfruitful. Dejected, I set about returning home. I had given up hope. But luckily, I passed a bar on my way back. Realizing this was my only opportunity to drink, I entered. There was but one seat open at the bar; I occupied it. What transpired from this point can only be described as drunken foolishness. I began with two shots of Jack and a G&T, followed with a beer and whiskey on rocks. After that was a scotch accompanied by a Redbull and vodka. After that is anybody's guess. I know I spent at least a couple of hours in there. One can only wonder the kind of fantasy that ensued. I know I applied for some sort of job. I also know I challenged the female bartender, in some convoluted effort to hit on her, to create a number of drinks to serve to me. I don't think her concoctions served me very well.
In short, I'm drunk and don't know what I'm talking about. Is this my fault? I'd like to think it's not, but who am I to judge? I'm no expert. I'm just a guy who took 90 minutes to type this abortion of a post. I'd feel sorry for myself, but you try having a drinking problem. That's what I thought...go fuck yourself. I knew you weren't better than me.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Weekly Poll Wednesdays!!!
That's right, it's the triumphant return of Weekly Poll Wednesdays!!! It's been a minute since my last post. I know y'all muhfuckas dug reading about the history of V.A.'s name as much as I enjoyed writing it. As gangster as that was, I think we all agree it's about time for another update. I was checking out the site and basically got tired of looking at the same poll for the last two months. With that said, allow me to introduce this new one; it's the best poll yet! First, though, let's recap the previous poll. On May 22nd I posed an important question, one that has quite a lot of bearing on today's news and political climate. What would you most like our next president to address upon taking office? There are several choices, and each one is a pressing issue -- both for this country and the world as a result. I deem all choices to be of the utmost importance.
Admittedly, I had much difficulty making my choices (I provided for up to three in this poll). Let's face it: regardless of one's political affiliation, all agree this country has been heading in the wrong direction for some time now. Every choice in this poll is important, to varying degrees, depending on preference. Choices ranged from international to domestic issues, diplomacy, economic policy, social accountability, and future concerns like global warming. Not surprisingly, there were no runaways, as each possible choice mostly received some attention. Let's take a look at the results:
Rising gas prices/Dependence on foreign oil (68.8%)
Health care (37.5%)
Economy (31.3%)
Education (31.3%)
Homeland Security (25%)
Exit Strategy (18.8%)
Global warming/Environmental concerns (18.8%)
National debt (18.8%)
International relations (12.5%)
Managing war effort (0%)
Interesting responses from you all. It's obvious why rising gas prices won easily, given how top of mind the issue is for those in our demographic, as well as how its effects are perhaps more direct and obvious than any of the other choices on this list. Domestic issues such as health care, education and the economy were of secondary importance, whereas international and military issues were an afterthought. None of you had interest in our next president successfully managing the war effort...proof enough for me we're all tired of the sad reality that's become of this war. Personally, I think your decisions here are shortsighted. The war is a short-term issue, but several long-term problems were overlooked. I've read extensively on the issue of global warming, and feel it has the potential to be the most volatile of all things mentioned in this poll. I also feel national debt was spurned for the sexier choice of economy, though our strategic shortfall of being in such heavy debt to China could prove fatal over the course of this century. International relations need to improve drastically, regardless of who takes office next November. Still, every one of these issues is problematic, so I can't fault you too much for your decisions. If you feel strongly about any of these things -- anything -- you must vote. Electoral college be damned! This is the hand we've been dealt. Flawed system or not...operate within it to facilitate change or keep your fucking mouth shut.
********************
This new poll arose from a heated disagreement I had with a friend of mine. He foolishly maintains that more than 70% of sexagenarian males would voluntarily cut their balls off for one night of ecstasy with a teenage perfect ten. I say it's less than 5%, though I'd like you to be the judge. Help us settle this before it devolves into a kerfuffle by voting early and often.
Admittedly, I had much difficulty making my choices (I provided for up to three in this poll). Let's face it: regardless of one's political affiliation, all agree this country has been heading in the wrong direction for some time now. Every choice in this poll is important, to varying degrees, depending on preference. Choices ranged from international to domestic issues, diplomacy, economic policy, social accountability, and future concerns like global warming. Not surprisingly, there were no runaways, as each possible choice mostly received some attention. Let's take a look at the results:
Rising gas prices/Dependence on foreign oil (68.8%)
Health care (37.5%)
Economy (31.3%)
Education (31.3%)
Homeland Security (25%)
Exit Strategy (18.8%)
Global warming/Environmental concerns (18.8%)
National debt (18.8%)
International relations (12.5%)
Managing war effort (0%)
Interesting responses from you all. It's obvious why rising gas prices won easily, given how top of mind the issue is for those in our demographic, as well as how its effects are perhaps more direct and obvious than any of the other choices on this list. Domestic issues such as health care, education and the economy were of secondary importance, whereas international and military issues were an afterthought. None of you had interest in our next president successfully managing the war effort...proof enough for me we're all tired of the sad reality that's become of this war. Personally, I think your decisions here are shortsighted. The war is a short-term issue, but several long-term problems were overlooked. I've read extensively on the issue of global warming, and feel it has the potential to be the most volatile of all things mentioned in this poll. I also feel national debt was spurned for the sexier choice of economy, though our strategic shortfall of being in such heavy debt to China could prove fatal over the course of this century. International relations need to improve drastically, regardless of who takes office next November. Still, every one of these issues is problematic, so I can't fault you too much for your decisions. If you feel strongly about any of these things -- anything -- you must vote. Electoral college be damned! This is the hand we've been dealt. Flawed system or not...operate within it to facilitate change or keep your fucking mouth shut.
********************
This new poll arose from a heated disagreement I had with a friend of mine. He foolishly maintains that more than 70% of sexagenarian males would voluntarily cut their balls off for one night of ecstasy with a teenage perfect ten. I say it's less than 5%, though I'd like you to be the judge. Help us settle this before it devolves into a kerfuffle by voting early and often.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
An incomplete list of dislikes
- ketchup
- wet sand
- open-toed shoes
- Ohio
- Texas
- Boston
- Boston Red Sox
- reaching my hand inside a bag of spare ribs
- pizza oil dripping onto my chin
- new video games
- Raisinets
- Jolleen
- programming on MTV
- too much responsibility
- work
- humidity
- packed subways
- Alistair
- jocks and jockettes
- stupid people
Monday, August 25, 2008
Monday Morning Asshole
Hola, bitches. That's right, it's the triumphant return of Monday Morning Asshole. Why? I can't say. It just feels like time. Also, because I actually haven't encountered many assholes recently. As hard as that pill might be to swallow, tis true. Of course, in the interest of full disclosure, it's somewhat difficult to experience human interaction when all one does is shift from the bed to the couch to the computer each day. No matter...I woke up this morning feeling like a hundred bucks (this is a good thing). I had family business to attend to, so I woke up at the ass crack of 1:30pm to get ready. In rifling through my drawers, I realized I'd failed to do laundry in a timely fashion. What can I say, cigarettes and nihilism occupy more time than you might think.
I settled on my Teens Against Tobacco Use t-shirt you see in the picture above. My favorite part about this shirt is the opportunity for comedic irony it offers while walking down the street smoking a cigarette. To me, irony is almost unparalleled in hilarity. It's understated yet in your face, smart and silly, admirable and ridonkulous. Great authors have employed it for centuries. Pretty much the only thing funnier than irony is Raz. Raz sucks. (Don't bitch, Raz...it's not a slogan for nothing. I don't make the rules.)
Anyway, yeah, you should see the looks on people's faces when they read my shirt, which they invariably do, then see me smoking a cigarette. It's equal parts humor, incredulity and disgust. Trust me when I say I am not one to draw attention to myself. The attention is a bit of a bugout, to be honest. Yet, I must say there's something invigorating about it.
Friday, August 15, 2008
How my friend V.A. got her name
The first thing you have to understand is my friend V.A.'s parents were huge Crocodile Dundee fans. I mean gigantic. They saw that shit in 1986 and fell in love. They not only fell in love with Paul Hogan (who couldn't?), they not only fell in love with pulling huge knives on muhfuckas ("That's not a knoife, this is a knoife!), those two crazy kids fell in love with the female lead of the movie. You see, Linda Kozlowski achieved her breakout role in '86. Sure, she'd been in some television roles, but never before had the silver screen bore witness to such...perfection. V.A.'s parents saw this; their lives were changed forever.
I'm sure you're wondering where I'm going with this. Just relax. Here's the deal in a nutshell: Crocodile Dundee slew the competition in '86 and '88. Linda Kozlowski followed this up with an unforgettable turn in Almost An Angel in 1990. V.A.'s parents were definitely hooked by this point. It was around that time they read some insider information stating Ms. Kozlowski would be starring in a new detective drama titled V.I. Warshawski.
Now, of course V.A. already had a name; it was Virginia Allen. She had no form of abbreviation at this time. Once her family learned of Linda Kozlowski's next starring role, however, - the one that would propel her to super-stardom - they decided to make a drastic change. In the fall of 1990, Virginia Allen became V.I., her name being altered to mirror the greatest movie character in cinema history.
By the time V.I. Warshawski debuted in the spring of 1991, V.A.'s parents were distressed to learn Kathleen Turner had replaced Linda Kozlowski in the starring role. By this point, the family had gotten used to calling the ten year-old by her new abbreviated moniker. It was difficult for them to return to their old ways, but still it made little sense calling their daughter V.I. when the beloved Kozlowski had abandoned the role. It was at this point the name V.A. was born.
Much has been made of this story, its details referred to fondly though the main character prefers details remain hidden. Admittedly, I had some trepidation revealing it. I felt it necessary to respect the wishes of those most closely involved, but ultimately decided a greater purpose would be served by sharing it. It is quite the story, correct? I can't help but wonder how differently things might have gone. What if there was no Crocodile Dundee? What if they hadn't grown so attached? What if Kathleen Turner had signed on for this most famous role from the beginning? My friend could very well have been renamed Kathleen. We'd be calling her Koose. So many questions...one can only ponder.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The meaning of dreams
Psychology interests me. I disagree with people who dismiss the usefulness of this science, for the ability to understand and utilize it has real-world application in nearly every facet of our everyday activities. Like right now, for instance. It's 5am and clearly I'm drunk. Anyone who knows me could surmise that much. It's interesting how the correlation between my frequency of posts and frequency of drinking (or lack thereof) goes hand in hand. It's been fairly well publicized, in both my personal encounters and on this blog, how I've decided to "turn over a new leaf" and stop drinking. For an undetermined amount of time anyway. Well, many of you scoffed --and rightfully so. The fact of the matter is I've done quite well in these past six weeks...only been drunk four times including tonight. Note the time frame of my sobriety and compare that to my hiatus between blog posts. Psychology. Is it much of a wonder that now's the time I choose to get my thoughts out via les internets?
Anyway, the genesis of this post comes from a dream I had last night. First off, I've been dreaming a lot lately. Or rather, remembering a greater percentage of my dreams. This is abnormal for me. In this particular window into my REM-self, I was standing at a urinal, peeing. Everything seemed normal initially. I whipped it out and began to go. Only, I had no control over the direction or force over which my urine stream projected. Piss was flying every which way: both in and out of the urinal, on the wall, on me. Not only that, but my penis was huge, like a fire hose. Typing this out right now and reading it back, I'm not sure I'm conveying how surreal this picture truly was.
I must have woken up shortly after the dream, or else I would not have been able to remember it (All of us dream on a consistent basis. We have no recollection of the vast majority of these images. It's only the few we wake up shortly afterwards that get committed to memory.) I recall feeling out of place -- or uncomfortable, more like it -- because I had this indefinable empty feeling. I think I fell back asleep relatively quickly, but the ordeal was still with me when i woke up the next morning (read: afternoon). What did it mean? Was it nothing? Or something? I had so many questions. Like I said, psychology interests me.
After having time to reflect and gather my thoughts, I think this dream represents my subconscious fear that I am not in control of my own life. Perhaps my generous peepee size is a metaphor for the scope of my situation, or life in general. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Who knows? The point is that dreams truly are a window into our innermost thoughts. It pays to pay attention. Psychologically speaking, I believe dreams are a way for our subconscious selves to communicate with our consciousness. If you don't pay attention, chances are you'll be at a loss. Not to say I'm not losing on a daily basis. Just saying...
Ah, fuck it. What do you think. Let a brotha know. If anyone still reads this blog, that is...
Anyway, the genesis of this post comes from a dream I had last night. First off, I've been dreaming a lot lately. Or rather, remembering a greater percentage of my dreams. This is abnormal for me. In this particular window into my REM-self, I was standing at a urinal, peeing. Everything seemed normal initially. I whipped it out and began to go. Only, I had no control over the direction or force over which my urine stream projected. Piss was flying every which way: both in and out of the urinal, on the wall, on me. Not only that, but my penis was huge, like a fire hose. Typing this out right now and reading it back, I'm not sure I'm conveying how surreal this picture truly was.
I must have woken up shortly after the dream, or else I would not have been able to remember it (All of us dream on a consistent basis. We have no recollection of the vast majority of these images. It's only the few we wake up shortly afterwards that get committed to memory.) I recall feeling out of place -- or uncomfortable, more like it -- because I had this indefinable empty feeling. I think I fell back asleep relatively quickly, but the ordeal was still with me when i woke up the next morning (read: afternoon). What did it mean? Was it nothing? Or something? I had so many questions. Like I said, psychology interests me.
After having time to reflect and gather my thoughts, I think this dream represents my subconscious fear that I am not in control of my own life. Perhaps my generous peepee size is a metaphor for the scope of my situation, or life in general. Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Who knows? The point is that dreams truly are a window into our innermost thoughts. It pays to pay attention. Psychologically speaking, I believe dreams are a way for our subconscious selves to communicate with our consciousness. If you don't pay attention, chances are you'll be at a loss. Not to say I'm not losing on a daily basis. Just saying...
Ah, fuck it. What do you think. Let a brotha know. If anyone still reads this blog, that is...
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Darth Vader doing the Thriller dance
This is the type of dancing Raz and VA could agree on if they ever got married.
See more funny videos at CollegeHumor
Monday, June 16, 2008
Random Related Realization
I kinda feel like most people nowadays have taken Madonna for granted. She's over-saturated and old as dirt. She married Guy Ritchie, immediately ruined his ability to make awesome British gangster flicks, and mysteriously developed an overnight British accent of her own. She "found" Kabbalah and managed to turn it into a trendy Hollywood religion. Yet, take a look at this SNL clip from 1991. Madonna was smokin hot!!! Next time some old geezer corners you with some story about how things were better in the good ol' days when he walked to school in two feet of snow, uphill both ways, and you young whippersnappers have no sense of history or reality, heed his words and remember that fake stupid old bitches were once gorgeous centers of the universe. Also, Mike Myers and Dana Carvey are comic geniuses. Enjoy.
Indubitable Datum
Kristen Wiig is the hottest cast member in the thirty-four year history of Saturday Night Live. Count it.
Hello Again, and, The End of an Era
Hi there. It's been more than three weeks since my last post. I was in Italy with some fam for the first two weeks of that hiatus. The trip was pretty awesome, as I'm sure you'd imagine. We stayed in a Tuscan villa on top of a secluded mountain outside of Arezzo. There were day trips, good food and lots of great wine. It was definitely an experience. I got back last Saturday, the 7th, but haven't bothered to post anything on this site for various reasons. Chief among them is the fact I've been piss drunk most of the time.
I know what you're thinking. What else is new, right? I do this type of shit all the time. That's true, you're right. It goes deeper than that though. You see, I've been languishing in this rut of mine for some time now. In fact, I can't remember a single completely sober day I've had in more than a month, and I've been doing this shit for years. That got me thinking about things, which led me to an important decision: I'm giving up drinking.
Go ahead and laugh. I'd probably be doing the same were it not for the fact this is my life we're talking about here (Jameson check: "It's my life!!!"). So by the time my trip was nearing it's end I realized I needed to make a change. I came home and have been on a mission to rid my home of all its alcoholic remnants. One straight week at near breakneck pace and my mission is nearing its end. All the beer is gone. The wine has long since vanished. And of all the bottles of liquor I've managed to accumulate through various means, all that's left is this fucking bottle of tequila blanco I'm drinking now.
It's after 2am early Monday morning and the bottle is about 40% full. Ironically, after all this I don't even want to be drinking right now. Normally, I'd just give up. I abandon goals for myself all the time. But that's exactly the problem with being a drunk -- I've lost my drive. So for just this once I'm going to follow through. Once this bottle is finished, a new me begins. Hopefully with my head on straight I can move forward with my life, you know, like a normal person.
So again, go ahead and laugh. I want you to tell me I can't do it. I think maybe I need to hear that in order to keep my promise to myself, at least at first anyway. If there's one thing I'm sure about myself, it's that spite drives me. I will prove you all wrong. Day One of sobriety begins tomorrow. I'm not saying it'll last forever, but it will be for a significant period of time. It's the end of an era. The time for change is now. Cheers.
Post Script: I just read through this post and felt the need to apologize for its somber tone. I realize that's not what people come here for, providing I still have any readers after leaving you high and dry for the better part of a month. Fuck that though. If you aren't entertained by something just ignore it. No one's putting a gun to your head, unless you live in a third-world country in South America. Then it's likely someone is actually putting a gun to your head. It's probably those bitches who own Cafecitos Pub. Regardless, things are bound to return to normal pretty soon. Though, I will have to teach myself how to do things like blogging sober. So keep coming back. We can make it happen!
Post Post Script: Two nights after winning a few hundred bucks due to Kobe Bryant's lack of three-point shooting prowess, I lost a few hundred bucks tonight because of Sasha Vujacic's lack of three-point shooting prowess. God damnit, Vujacic. All I needed was for you to score eight measly points tonight. Instead, you go 2-10 from the field including 0-5 from beyond the arc. Jesus Christ, someone needs to tell this guy having a shooting touch is a requisite for white guys in the NBA. Fuck me. And you wonder why I drink.
I know what you're thinking. What else is new, right? I do this type of shit all the time. That's true, you're right. It goes deeper than that though. You see, I've been languishing in this rut of mine for some time now. In fact, I can't remember a single completely sober day I've had in more than a month, and I've been doing this shit for years. That got me thinking about things, which led me to an important decision: I'm giving up drinking.
Go ahead and laugh. I'd probably be doing the same were it not for the fact this is my life we're talking about here (Jameson check: "It's my life!!!"). So by the time my trip was nearing it's end I realized I needed to make a change. I came home and have been on a mission to rid my home of all its alcoholic remnants. One straight week at near breakneck pace and my mission is nearing its end. All the beer is gone. The wine has long since vanished. And of all the bottles of liquor I've managed to accumulate through various means, all that's left is this fucking bottle of tequila blanco I'm drinking now.
It's after 2am early Monday morning and the bottle is about 40% full. Ironically, after all this I don't even want to be drinking right now. Normally, I'd just give up. I abandon goals for myself all the time. But that's exactly the problem with being a drunk -- I've lost my drive. So for just this once I'm going to follow through. Once this bottle is finished, a new me begins. Hopefully with my head on straight I can move forward with my life, you know, like a normal person.
So again, go ahead and laugh. I want you to tell me I can't do it. I think maybe I need to hear that in order to keep my promise to myself, at least at first anyway. If there's one thing I'm sure about myself, it's that spite drives me. I will prove you all wrong. Day One of sobriety begins tomorrow. I'm not saying it'll last forever, but it will be for a significant period of time. It's the end of an era. The time for change is now. Cheers.
Post Script: I just read through this post and felt the need to apologize for its somber tone. I realize that's not what people come here for, providing I still have any readers after leaving you high and dry for the better part of a month. Fuck that though. If you aren't entertained by something just ignore it. No one's putting a gun to your head, unless you live in a third-world country in South America. Then it's likely someone is actually putting a gun to your head. It's probably those bitches who own Cafecitos Pub. Regardless, things are bound to return to normal pretty soon. Though, I will have to teach myself how to do things like blogging sober. So keep coming back. We can make it happen!
Post Post Script: Two nights after winning a few hundred bucks due to Kobe Bryant's lack of three-point shooting prowess, I lost a few hundred bucks tonight because of Sasha Vujacic's lack of three-point shooting prowess. God damnit, Vujacic. All I needed was for you to score eight measly points tonight. Instead, you go 2-10 from the field including 0-5 from beyond the arc. Jesus Christ, someone needs to tell this guy having a shooting touch is a requisite for white guys in the NBA. Fuck me. And you wonder why I drink.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Programming Note
That's it for me kids, for two weeks anyway. I'll try to post something from Italy but I'm making no promises. The pic above has nothing to do with anything, I just find it hilarious. Check out the post below as well as the bunch of other shit I put up these last two days. See ya!
Summer Music Festivals
Rock The Bells - Jones Beach Theater, NY Sun. 8/3
Click the picture above. Can you fucking believe this lineup?!? I went last year and had the time of my life. Only problem this year is its not general admission. So anyone who wants to go, we'd have to buy tickets together. I get back from Italy on 6/7. Let's buy tickets after that. Anyone from out of twon who wants to go, you have a free place to stay. Let's make this happen.
http://www.guerillaunion.com/rockthebells/
All Points West - Liberty State Park, Jersey City Fri-Sun. 8/8-8/10
This festival is literally one mile from where I live. Again, come on out and you can crash at my place. It's three days, but you can buy one day passes. Check out the lineup below...pretty sick.
http://www.apwfestival.com/event/lineup
Virgin Festival Toronto - Sat-Sun. 9/6-9/7
Foo Fighters headline Saturday and Oasis headlines Sunday. I already bought my ticket for this. I'm so friggin excited I can't take it!
http://www.virginfestival.ca/toronto/
These are the three I'm interested in, but I'm sure there are tons more. What do you people want to see? School me. Also, get in touch about these ones too. Don't make excuses...life's too short to complain about trivial shit like money.
Lefting the ship?
It's a little after 10:30am and I just woke up. All the lights are on and my itunes is going on repeat. I've shaken off the cobwebs and have now realized I failed to make good on my promise. Apparently, it's tough to be responsible and all that after downing a bottle of scotch. I was really looking forward to seeing what's in the furthest recesses of my mind. Oh well, another time I suppose. The worst part of all this is I just found my glass from last night. It's a third of the way full. I didn't even officially finish the bottle. Fucking sissy.
Post Script: Congratulations Raz on all your accomplishments. Best of luck in all your future endeavors. It's a slippery slope, trust me.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Righting the ship
A while back one of my polls asked readers to choose what you wanted from this site. Out of all the choices, drunken rant won easily. In typical fashion, I ignored my responsibility. This has been my modus operandi for too long. It's time to right this ship! With that said, I've decided tonight is the night to make good on my promise. I've been drinking scotch since 3:45pm EST. Once I finish the bottle, it's off to work I go. There's no set idea for the post; I'll be flying by the seat of my pants. So look out for that later on tonight or tomorrow morning, and here's to hoping I can get my goddamn act together. Cheers.
Bi-Monthly Poll Thursdays!!!
The new poll is supposed to go up on Wednesdays. Yes, I'm aware. I haven't really been able to post as often as I'd like due to some unforeseen life snafus. Deal with it. Anyway, this poll is going to last two weeks because I'm going to Italy for two weeks, effective tomorrow night, and won't be able to update the site. For this reason, I've selected an extremely thought-provoking topic and thrown in some curveballs for good measure. More on that later.
Very interesting poll this past week. What would happen if we put several of the world's most contentious leaders in the ring at the same time and let them duke it out? Global conflict should be this easy, shouldn't it? The results:
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (10%)
George W. Bush (50%)
Hugo Chavez (35%)
Kim Jong Il (5%)
Some of you expressed trepidation over Bush's victory. Perhaps favoritism is at play? Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez appears to be the worthiest of adversaries. A lot of you felt he would emerge victorious, likely in the the school of thought that Hispanics are wily, and fight dirty. Alas, tis not the case. I cannot tell you why Bush won, only that he did. Our fearless leader, for those of us lucky enough to live in America, prevailed in a close decision. For what it's worth, I agree with the outcome. Many of you are anti-Bush, and it's understandable. However, you should be cautioned before siding against him in a battle royale. Say what you want about Bush politically, but physically he is the most fit president this country's ever had. He is getting older now, but no older than his competition. Plus he's from Texas. I believe W would be the last man standing.
***********************
I have a tough one for you guys this week. What would you most like our next president to address upon taking office? There are several choices, and each one is a pressing issue -- both for this country and the world as a result. I deem all choices to be of the utmost importance. Selecting one over another will be a difficult task. Luckily, that's where my curveball comes in. For this poll, you can choose up to 3 responses. This is going to take a lot of thought on your part, but fortunately you have two weeks to decide. Think long and hard. And remember, one person CAN make a difference. Let your voices be heard!
Very interesting poll this past week. What would happen if we put several of the world's most contentious leaders in the ring at the same time and let them duke it out? Global conflict should be this easy, shouldn't it? The results:
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (10%)
George W. Bush (50%)
Hugo Chavez (35%)
Kim Jong Il (5%)
Some of you expressed trepidation over Bush's victory. Perhaps favoritism is at play? Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez appears to be the worthiest of adversaries. A lot of you felt he would emerge victorious, likely in the the school of thought that Hispanics are wily, and fight dirty. Alas, tis not the case. I cannot tell you why Bush won, only that he did. Our fearless leader, for those of us lucky enough to live in America, prevailed in a close decision. For what it's worth, I agree with the outcome. Many of you are anti-Bush, and it's understandable. However, you should be cautioned before siding against him in a battle royale. Say what you want about Bush politically, but physically he is the most fit president this country's ever had. He is getting older now, but no older than his competition. Plus he's from Texas. I believe W would be the last man standing.
***********************
I have a tough one for you guys this week. What would you most like our next president to address upon taking office? There are several choices, and each one is a pressing issue -- both for this country and the world as a result. I deem all choices to be of the utmost importance. Selecting one over another will be a difficult task. Luckily, that's where my curveball comes in. For this poll, you can choose up to 3 responses. This is going to take a lot of thought on your part, but fortunately you have two weeks to decide. Think long and hard. And remember, one person CAN make a difference. Let your voices be heard!
How 'bout some intellectual substance, for a change?
Roles of Africans in the Exploitation of the Americas
Slavery has been a key facet in the development of almost every major civilization since history has been recorded. Though it has not necessarily conformed to today’s views of what slavery is, it was around in various forms during the empires of antiquity, and throughout each century since. With the discovery of the New World in the fifteenth century came the needed manpower to facilitate the economies of these newly formed European colonies. For many reasons, this burden fell upon Africans. Slavery, however, is certainly not the only role played by Africans in the exploitation of the Americas. In researching this topic in both readings and from lectures, it is evident that the role of Africans can be broken down into four sections: slavery being the obvious primary role, followed by three secondary roles. These are as auxiliary slaves, black conquistadors, and the integral role played by Africans in the colonial wars of the period. Each of the four will be discussed separately, and also in an interrelated fashion.
When it became evident that the imperial powers in the New World needed manpower to work on their plantations, Africa was not the first place Europeans looked. The initial choice was to simply enslave the currently existing natives and put them to work. It was quickly found that slaves would have to come from elsewhere. Native Amerindians were highly susceptible to European diseases, especially smallpox. Between these diseases and casualties resulting from the conquests necessary for their suppression, soon there were not enough natives to sustain efficient running of the plantations. Depopulation amongst natives was so rapid that “seventy five percent were gone within one hundred fifty years of the European invasion” (Dyreson).
The first attempt at an alternative was to use white Europeans. These were often the destitute of society, including convicts and the poor. The manpower problem still remained unsolved, however, when Europeans quickly found that their own kind could not withstand the hot, sticky climate of South America and the Caribbean. The imperial powers of Europe hit a goldmine of labor force when they began to export Africans into the newly formed colonies. “Africans proved to be admirable workers, strong enough to survive the heat and hard work on sugar, coffee, or cotton plantations or in mines, in building fortresses or merely acting as servants; and, at the same time, they were good-natured and usually docile” (Thomas). And what further strengthened the slave trade was the willingness of the strong, Muslim West African kingdoms to capture and sell the much weaker West-Central Africans to the Europeans. Without having to worry about capturing their own slaves, Europeans could now concentrate all their efforts on the growth and prosperity of their American colonies. This is exemplified in the fact that “Europeans didn’t colonize Africa until before the nineteenth century, or participate in the internal slave trade; only two to three percent of slaves were captured by Europeans” (Frederick).
What became known as the “Middle Passage,” or the slave route taken by ships passing between Africa and the Americas, was a treacherous journey to say the least. Newly enslaved Africans were subjected to some of the most inhuman conditions possible while aboard the ships. Many died as a result. The estimated twelve million that survived the journey were sent off all throughout the New World. While many were sent to work on British (and later American) plantations in Virginia, Georgia and the Carolinas, these slaves were but a small minority of the African slave population. “Brazil alone took thirty eight percent of the slaves, the Caribbean Islands forty percent. Saint Domingue (the French name for Española) received twice as many African slaves as the thirteen colonies and later the United States” (Crosby). Once they had arrived at their final destinations, most slaves were put to work in the fields or in mines. “Most of the great enterprises of the first four hundred years of colonization owed much to African slaves: sugar in Brazil and later the Caribbean; rice and indigo in South Carolina and Virginia; gold in Brazil and, to a lesser extent, silver in Mexico; cotton in the Guianas and later in North America; cocoa in what is now Venezuela; and above all, in clearing of land ready for agriculture” (Thomas). The only thing Mr. Thomas seems to have left out in his breakdown of the African slaves’ contribution is an important one: tobacco, which would weigh heavily on both the European and world markets and later play a major role in the United States Civil War.
Although slavery was the primary role of Africans of the time period, it was not the only role. Spaniards were the first to bring slaves to the Americas. They “ran few plantations compared to other European colonies, so most Spanish American slaves were auxiliaries in skilled intensive, or permanent tasks” (Frederick). These auxiliary slaves certainly do not fit the popular billing of what slaves were. They were not treated in the same way, nor did they necessarily perform the same tasks as traditional slaves of the British colonies. For this reason, a distinction is made and a second role of Africans in the Americas is formed. Culturally speaking, these auxiliary slaves were much different from the West Central Africans who were plucked from their villages and sold into bondage. Many of them had already been acculturated to European ways. They were “more likely to be already Christian. Many were ‘Hispanized’ and could even be from Europe.” Unlike the non-auxiliary slaves, “most were urban slaves; by 1750, ten to twenty five percent of the population in Spanish cities were black” (Frederick). Due to these cultural differences from the stereotypical Africans, Spanish auxiliary slaves were able to enjoy a greater sense of freedom than did their counterparts. For instance, “they formed their own religious brotherhoods, guilds, and social organizations.” There were even some rural African communities” in the colonies (Frederick).
Along with the cultural differences of auxiliary slaves came differences in terms of how they were treated as it pertained to the law. Spanish law stated that a slave must be allowed to set a fair price for his own freedom. A slave could go to his owner and bargain for his freedom. In essence, the agreed-upon amount between a slave and owner would be the amount owed to the owner for the slave to buy himself. The existence of this Spanish law made room for a third role of Africans in the Americas: the black conquistador. Many auxiliaries gained “probanzas” from their masters; literally Spanish for “proofs.” These were papers proving that the person holding them were not runaway slaves, but in fact still owned by the issuer. They were given out so that the auxiliaries could safely go out and serve as soldiers in the conquests.
Being a conquistador was risky business. They were thrust into many dangerous situations conquering lands and peoples in the name of the Crown. For black slaves and free whites alike, the opportunity to get rich was attractive enough to place their lives on the line. So, in this way, black conquistadors were able to buy their freedom. “Under the Spanish and Portuguese crowns, at least, the descendants of free Blacks enjoyed equality with Whites before the law” (Fernández-Armesto). Though it is not popular to hear of black conquistadors buying their freedom and making a name for themselves, there were at least a few noteworthy examples. “Juan Valiente was a black conquistador who bought his freedom and gained an encomienda”, which was a land grant given from the Spanish crown for fighting and increasing Spanish territories to start a plantation (Frederick). He moved to Chile in 1540 after receiving it. Juan Garrido was another noteworthy conquistador. “This conquistador-companion of (Hernando) Cortés had seen Tenochtitlán submit, made an expedition to California, and was custodian for his fellow-citizens of the aqueduct of Chapultepec which supplied Mexico City with water (Fernández-Armesto). It was great men like these who inspired many slaves to become conquistadors in an attempt to buy their own freedom.
The fourth and final role played by Africans was the colonial wars of the Americas they took part in. Aside from the black conquistadors who had fought natives in the name of the imperial powers that owned them, many Africans played major roles in colonial wars against other imperial powers as well as in colonial uprisings and revolutions against their own mother country. Many served, for instance, in “Brazil’s War of Divine Liberty against Dutch invaders from 1644 to 1654” (Fernández-Armesto). In addition, the revolutions and upheavals they took part in changed the face of the colonial Americas.
The Haitian Revolution represents the most thorough case study of revolutionary change anywhere in the history of the modern world. In ten years of sustained internal and international warfare, a colony populated predominantly by plantation slaves overthrew both its colonial status and its economic system and established a new political state of entirely free individuals – with some ex-slaves constituting the new political authority. The impact of the Haitian Revolution was both immediate and widespread (Knight).
The impact was so widespread that an argument can be made that the Haitian Revolution sparked the beginning of the end for all imperial powers in the New World.
There can be no qualms as to the importance of the roles Africans played in the Americas. There is ample proof that they were not simply slaves, but auxiliary skilled servants, conquistadors, and soldiers at war. At the dawn of the colonial era, history saw European imperial powers taking shape and forming new ties on a global scale. “However strong the pioneer spirit in the metropolitan bases of early-modern empires, the home countries were insufficiently well populated to supply the labour needs of their colonies themselves.” As a result, “slaves became essential to the sustaining of colonial enterprise…” (Fernández-Armesto). Even though this is an extremely pertinent quote, instead it should read “Africans became essential,” for their various roles played in the exploitation of the Americas shaped the western hemisphere, culture, and history as we know it.
Works Cited
- Frederick, Jake. History 11 lectures. Penn State University. February 27, 2002 and March 11, 2002.
- Dyreson, JoDee. History 2 lecture. Penn State University. January 10, 2002.
- Thomas, Hugh. “The Transatlantic Slave Trade.” The Atlantic World in the Age of Empire. Ed. Thomas Benjamin, Timothy Hall, David Rutherford. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 2001. 146-48.
- Crosby, Alfred W. “Infectious Disease and the Demography of the Atlantic Peoples.” The Atlantic World in the Age of Empire. Ed. Thomas Benjamin, Timothy Hall, David Rutherford. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 2001. 174-74.
- Fernández-Armesto, Felipe. “Africans, the Involuntary Colonists.” The Atlantic World in the Age of Empire. Ed. Thomas Benjamin, Timothy Hall, David Rutherford. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 2001. 185, 190.
- Knight, Franklin W. “The Haitian Revolution.” The Atlantic World in the Age of Empire. Ed. Thomas Benjamin, Timothy Hall, David Rutherford. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 2001. 227, 233.
Jay-Z: Friend Or Foe '98
I know, updates have been lackluster this past week. Suffice to say I've been going through some shit and let's leave it at that. Lots more coming in the next day, I promise.
In the meantime, enjoy this little-seen video from Jigga and Preemo. This marks the 10 year anniversary of this album. Listening to it, I can't help but wonder how the game would've changed had Hov and DJ Premier collaborated more often. Enjoy, and check back late tonight/tomorrow morning for several new posts.
In the meantime, enjoy this little-seen video from Jigga and Preemo. This marks the 10 year anniversary of this album. Listening to it, I can't help but wonder how the game would've changed had Hov and DJ Premier collaborated more often. Enjoy, and check back late tonight/tomorrow morning for several new posts.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Summer concert series
Summertime means a lot of things, and summer concerts are definitely chief among them. I don't know about you fruits, but I'm super pumped for several of them. This is going to be a great couple of months for music. Check it out:
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Weekly Poll Wednedsays!!!
Last week's poll was probably the most interesting since I started doing them back in March. There's always a lot of divisiveness when it comes to the subject of religion, and asking people to choose which is the most destructive is no exception. I wanted to leave things open-ended, so each person could reach their own conclusions as to what "destructive" means in this case. The results were nothing short of amazing:
Christianity (61.5%)
Islam (0%)
Judaism (0%)
Atheism (38.5%)
One would think things might have played out a bit differently, given today's geopolitical climate, the war on terror, etc. Yet, there was not one single vote for Islam as the most destructive religion. Nor did Judaism get any love from voters. Perhaps people have underestimated the power Jews wield through their ability to control the media in this country, as well as the United States' suspect allegiance to Israel. No matter, this poll became a two horse race with results knotted at 50-50 for most of the week. I believe those people that selected Atheism simply disagree with saying anything bad about religion in general. But that's just me. In the end, people pointed to the 2000+ years of tyranny, murder, and overall shadiness from our good friends at the Vatican, and rightfully selected Christianity as the most destructive religion. Once, again, that's just my opinion. If I am wrong, let god striketh me down! I'm never wrong though, so I'm not a whole lot worried.
One last thing relating to this subject: One of the very best books I have ever read is god Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything by Christopher Hitchens. You may have heard of this; it made waves last year when it came out and has spent quite a bit of time on best seller lists. Hitchens does not come off as preachy at all, which I love. He attacks his targets from all angles using sharp and witty anecdotes, facts, and stories about all the bad religion has done in the world. He devotes time and space to all religions, not just the large ones. I can't say enough about this book. It is truly the most interesting one I've ever read. And best of all, Hitchens respects those who choose to believe, as I do. He simply states his case for his own beliefs. You don't have to be an atheist to read or enjoy it.
*************
From religion to politics. Let's continue in the same vein of poll questions with substance. There's a lot going on in the world; you may have noticed. Us Americans have lots of beef, and lots of people around the world hate us. Shit is going down, man! The world is devolving into one big cluster fuck, and the powers that be across the globe seem to want nothing more than to fuel the fire. Another book I'm reading right now is called Apocalypse 2012, by Lawrence E. Joseph. It illustrates the belief prophesied in several ancient scripture from around the world that the Apocalypse is coming on December 21, 2012. It's important to note that this does not necessarily mean apocalyptic destruction, in a literal sense. It could, but more accurately it is the belief that on that day, the world will take a sudden and meaningful turn. For better or worse, who knows, but all the shit going on right now politically could certainly have something to do with it. If "it" actually happens, that is.
No matter what you believe, you have to admit that odds are good multiple nations will enter into battle at some point soon. And let's face it, most of us don't want that. I know I don't, so here's my proposal. Rather than spending billions of dollars none of us really have to send millions of young men and women to die, let our leaders duke it out themselves in a battle royale...last man standing gets to enact the global policy he would put in place upon victory in war! Here are your participants: Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, U.S. President George W. Bush, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez and North Korean Dictator Kim Jong Il. All four men are in the ring at the same time. Last man standing wins. Sounds simple, right? Go ahead and vote then, since this'll obviously never happen in real life. It should though, god damnit. It should.
Christianity (61.5%)
Islam (0%)
Judaism (0%)
Atheism (38.5%)
One would think things might have played out a bit differently, given today's geopolitical climate, the war on terror, etc. Yet, there was not one single vote for Islam as the most destructive religion. Nor did Judaism get any love from voters. Perhaps people have underestimated the power Jews wield through their ability to control the media in this country, as well as the United States' suspect allegiance to Israel. No matter, this poll became a two horse race with results knotted at 50-50 for most of the week. I believe those people that selected Atheism simply disagree with saying anything bad about religion in general. But that's just me. In the end, people pointed to the 2000+ years of tyranny, murder, and overall shadiness from our good friends at the Vatican, and rightfully selected Christianity as the most destructive religion. Once, again, that's just my opinion. If I am wrong, let god striketh me down! I'm never wrong though, so I'm not a whole lot worried.
One last thing relating to this subject: One of the very best books I have ever read is god Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything by Christopher Hitchens. You may have heard of this; it made waves last year when it came out and has spent quite a bit of time on best seller lists. Hitchens does not come off as preachy at all, which I love. He attacks his targets from all angles using sharp and witty anecdotes, facts, and stories about all the bad religion has done in the world. He devotes time and space to all religions, not just the large ones. I can't say enough about this book. It is truly the most interesting one I've ever read. And best of all, Hitchens respects those who choose to believe, as I do. He simply states his case for his own beliefs. You don't have to be an atheist to read or enjoy it.
*************
From religion to politics. Let's continue in the same vein of poll questions with substance. There's a lot going on in the world; you may have noticed. Us Americans have lots of beef, and lots of people around the world hate us. Shit is going down, man! The world is devolving into one big cluster fuck, and the powers that be across the globe seem to want nothing more than to fuel the fire. Another book I'm reading right now is called Apocalypse 2012, by Lawrence E. Joseph. It illustrates the belief prophesied in several ancient scripture from around the world that the Apocalypse is coming on December 21, 2012. It's important to note that this does not necessarily mean apocalyptic destruction, in a literal sense. It could, but more accurately it is the belief that on that day, the world will take a sudden and meaningful turn. For better or worse, who knows, but all the shit going on right now politically could certainly have something to do with it. If "it" actually happens, that is.
No matter what you believe, you have to admit that odds are good multiple nations will enter into battle at some point soon. And let's face it, most of us don't want that. I know I don't, so here's my proposal. Rather than spending billions of dollars none of us really have to send millions of young men and women to die, let our leaders duke it out themselves in a battle royale...last man standing gets to enact the global policy he would put in place upon victory in war! Here are your participants: Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, U.S. President George W. Bush, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez and North Korean Dictator Kim Jong Il. All four men are in the ring at the same time. Last man standing wins. Sounds simple, right? Go ahead and vote then, since this'll obviously never happen in real life. It should though, god damnit. It should.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
This day will live in infamy
That's right. The graphic you're viewing is from none other than 1993's Tecmo Super Bowl -- the greatest video game ever created. And it's real. I, as the Buffalo Bills, did defeat the Cincinnati Bengals 105-0. Thurman Thomas did rumble over those motherfuckers for an unprecedented 938 rushing yards. The amazing thing is I did it on just 30 carries, an astounding 31.26 yards per attempt! Now, I know what some of you may be thinking. Believe me, I'm no stranger to the Tecmo haters. Fortunately, I have a witness in one Mr. J. Beau Razler who can confirm the whole thing. There's no doctoring of photos going on here.
Lots of you enjoyed boasting of your Tecmo prowess. Some even went so far as to claim superiority over yours truly. Fiddlesticks! I have never been defeated in a fully-sanctioned match. Furthermore, I'll suffer no arguments against my use of the Bills in this particular instance. I was utilizing Thurman's skills to exploit Cincy's porous D in order to secure the all-time rushing record. Mission accomplished, bitches. Front if you want to, but you fruits know you could never accomplish such a feat. In fact, I welcome you to try. Here is my halftime stats from that game, for posterity's sake. Click the pictures for a better view of excellence. Gentlemen, it's all right if these graphics excite you in the pants region. It doesn't make you gay*. You're just recognizing my stupendous accomplishment and realizing a Tecmo player with this caliber of skill comes along maybe once a generation. Embrace it. Cherish it. This day will live in infamy!
* - Not that you're not gay. I'm not trying to say that. You definitely are gay, just that the feeling my Tecmo skills give you in your pants region is not what makes you gay. Understand? Okay.
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