French Toooast

Holy crap this is awesome.

2009-10-20T17:29:00.002-04:00

My home town finally gets the national cred it deserves:

Emo Flashback #4

2009-10-18T15:08:00.002-04:00

"It's For The Best", by Straylight Run. Courtesy of Cliff Wright... you sexy, v-necked monster.

Emo Flashback #3

2009-10-16T11:28:00.003-04:00

Holy crap. There's enough emo in this song to fertilize a football field. Enough emo to choke a mule. It's like a bad high school diary. Like candy corn, it rots my teeth... but I can't stop consuming it.

"Sell All My Old Clothes, I'm Off To Heaven" by Saves the Day

This song makes me think of:
Nate Hall and chorus my senior year at Rocky Grove. It's a miracle I didn't get beat up more often.

Emo Flashback #2

2009-10-15T13:45:00.002-04:00

Even if you hate the music, appreciate the recreation of quite possibly the greatest dude film of all time. We are the all singing, all dancing crap of the world.

Emo Flashback

2009-10-14T14:10:00.003-04:00

Much like a 'Nam flashback, you'll probably want to put away anything sharp before you induce.

"Konstantine", by Something Corporate. Comment if you cried like a little girl or threw up on your keyboard.

Aspen... The City of Brotherly Love... and Spandex.

2009-10-07T12:49:00.004-04:00

For a little over two weeks now, the Chandler and I have resided in one of the most expensive zip codes in the continental United States. The 81611 is a veritable cornucopia of culture, class, and style... none of which the lady and I can afford.

We arrived in Aspen and immediately stayed with Kyle and Sarah Taylor for half of our first week. Kyle and I went to college together, and it was our morning ritual for me to show up at his house, freak out because we were 20 minutes late for class, drink some coffee, realize that we weren't going to make it to class that day, then watch some Homestar Runner and eat some deer meat. Classic. I was, of course, all a-twitter to see the Taylors - especially the new one, Lilah (the new nugget... fresh out the oven), but at the same time a bit apprehensive due to the fact that Sarah had barely left the hospital when Chandler and I began to occupy the guest room. All in all, the experience was like a great 4 night long sleepover, and Kyle and I got to do an ample amount of cuddling. Victory.

Chandler and I then moved all of our 7 possessions into our new apartment over on Waters Avenue (3 blocks from the gondola... punk rock) and began our life of extreme poverty. Remember in Willy Wonka where the entire family eats, sleeps, and withers away in one small room? That's our new place... only smaller. It's about the size of a college dorm room, complete with a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a corner to huddle and cry in. I once read a book about climbing Everest where the author amounts the experience to little more than spending 90% of your time huddled in a small tent staring at your tent-mate listening to their dandruff hit their sleeping bag and 10% of your time dying slowly due to the altitude. Sometimes it feels like that.

...then the rest of the time, I walk outside and mountains tower over me everywhere I look, and I know that in less than 2 months I'll be screaming uncontrollably down the side of those mountains on a pair of secondhand skis with an insane smile on my face with my wife 1000 feet above me trying to think of single, attractive men that she can date after my funeral... and suddenly Aspen is pretty awesome.

I have no job. We have no car. But holy crap the mountains are pretty.

Listen to:
The new Mae... and think of the ocean... you emo s.o.b.

Watch:
How I Met Your Mother

Hip Hop Gangster Shout Out To:
Everyone who we were going to visit on our whirlwind road trip before Shelby Woo betrayed us all by exploding outside of Denver.

Crap.

2009-09-17T12:43:00.003-04:00

It was a good week. Lots of driving, lots of friends, lots of flat boring portions of these United States.

But now the road trip is over. A call last night informed us that Shelby Woo the Subaru is dead. Done. Gone to a better place. Kicked the proverbial bucket. Was sent to a nice farm in the country where she can run and play all day long with other Subaru's. The amount it would take to fix her is roughly 75% more than what we originally paid for her... a month and a half ago.

So now we're crashing with Chandler's step aunt and uncle in Denver, trying to figure out what happens with our lives now. No money. No jobs. No home. No clippers to shave this burly man-beard I cultivated for the road trip.

But in the midst of the despair, there is a light that never goes out (freakin' A the Smiths!). I can see the Rocky Mountains from the window next to me, there's a Chipotle less than a mile away, and I happen to have $10 in my pocket. The Good Lord's taken care of us so far, and I've always wanted to go dumpster diving.

Things. Just. Got. Interesting.

The Illest of Hip Hop Gangster Shoutouts To:
Lila Jeanne Taylor, born yesterday to Kyle and Sarah. Welcome to Thunderdome little nugget.

Day 7 and 8 OR I'm Pretty Sure I'd Rather Shower With A Live Badger Than Watch Sex and the City

2009-09-16T15:30:00.003-04:00

Chicago... the city of lights. We rolled into the home of the pizza made in deep dishes around 10 o'clock on Sunday night and immediately hit up a TGI Fridays for some local fare and flair. Danny, the peppy bartender, was all aghast and atwitter that two globetrotters such as ourselves we right here... right now... sitting at his bar... eating hamburgers... mulling over how bad the Bears suck. Afterward we met Tasha at her place and crashed on a nest of couch cushions, somehow rendering the best night of sleep we've had in weeks.

A recipe for a full day in Chicago:

1 Tasha Bruinsma... so dutch

1 giant mirror bean in the middle of a city park

3 big effing bowls of soup from the Soup Box

7 to 8 miles of walking around slack-jawed because the buildings are all big and stuff

2 deep (so deep!) dish pizzas with Lucia

1 nap

Shake, consume, try not to hurl from the overload of wicked BA-edness

It seemed to be a good idea at the time that we drive through the night to Denver. It just made sense. Until we started driving. And driving. And refilling the gas tank. And driving. And holy crap more driving. 17 hours later, some witch doctor somewhere too a voodoo doll of Shelby Woo the Subaru, allowed a rabid shiatsu to gnaw on it, then flushed it down a truck stop toilet. Check engine light went on. Oil started leaking. Serpentine belt decided to go for a field trip to the back of the engine block. 90 miles from Denver, when all this went down, my blood pressure shot through the roof. Quick as a flash, Chandler sang some Lady Gaga, put her feet up on the dash, and took a nap.

Shelby made it, and is in the shop right now turning her head and coughing. Pray that she makes it out alright.

Day 9 - Denver. So dank!

Day 5 and 6 OR All You Need Is Love... and Stomp The Yard

2009-09-13T16:55:00.004-04:00

Spending a day with the Murphy's was a lot like hanging out with Bear Grylls while eating chocolate pudding and tussling with a puppy while Bear talks about getting enough protein and the dangers of glaciers. Holy crap it was awesome.

A strapping breakfast of potato pancakes and ham'n'cheese casserole? Check.

Crushing a third grader at ping pong? Yessir.

Copious amounts of time spent in the miniature van? Oyez oyez.

Skyline Chili? Magically delicious.

Beans? Indeed.

Nickelback? Eff that.

Frolf? You bet your mom.

Chuch? Amen.

The day was extremely well-rounded like a young Rosie O'Donnel. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and look forward to seeing the Murphy's again at least before Cooper gets his first tattoo (5 years or less).

After a raucous church service (could be the first time those two words were used in the same sentence without a qualifier) my shorty and I drove to meet mom and dad in Friendship, IN for the National Muzzleloading Rifle Association's championship shoot. This is what I grew the beard for.

And now, to give an eyewitness account to the goings-on of this glorious day, here, for the first time ever, is GUEST BLOGGER CHANDLER WYGANT:

Well, I hadn't planned on blogging during the trip, because we all know ben is infinitely more entertaining, but I thought you should here about Friendship, Indiana from me, because to ben its like coming home, but I got to see it all with fresh little naive eyes. I'll do my best to give you a full picture of the last 24 hours...

Ever been to a Penn State football tailgate? The NMLRA shoots are a lot like that, except they last for a full week, everyone has guns, the campers were all made before 1975, the sheriff drives around town in a green john deer golf cart, and they're all republicans. or white supremicists. or both? I imagine the NMLRA is a lot like the NRA except that they are purists.. you'll find no modern weaponry here, my friend. just a lot of loose gunpowder.

We arrived Saturday night to an entire valley smelling of sulfur and gun powder, with bonfires and rednecks of all ages everywhere. Most everything was shut down by that point, except for a few peddlars selling assortments of old guns, hunting knives and hand-blown glass marijuana parafanalia out of old sheep sheds. There was a loud barn dance, for the late-nighters of the group. No one was really dancing, but there was more cheap beer and more flasks than I saw the whole time i was college. Ninety percent of the guys were wearing cutoff t-shirts and boots. I felt like I'd stepped into another world, the one that exists only in cheesy country songs about the backwoods or the south or northern michigan, the kind of world that i, in my suburban popped collar and pearls world, idealize when I blast jason aldean with vail in my car, but didn't believe actually existed.

This morning, things just got even better. As I waited in line for a hot shower (bonus! didn't expect that), The sound of gunshots erupted promptly at 7:30, starting off the competitions. There are roughly 15-20 shooting ranges in the Friendship valley, including one for the kids. with real guns. This is where my husband spent his childhood summers. The one we started off at was a skeet range where you rotate from station to station, much like around the world in basketball, and shoot at either one or two clay pigeons at a time, depending on your preference. Ben and his dad held down the fort, while his mom and I proudly cheered them on. Then his dad taught me how to load the gun and let me get a few shots in. I didn't hit anything. I'm not sure I understand how to aim. That and I'm left-eye dominate, which is apparently a problem while trying to shoot a right-handed gun. But I gave it my best and looked pretty good holding a gun, i think. So i got that going for me.

After that we wandered over to what they call the primitive ranges, where everyone is dressed as pioneers or native americans, and they all sleep in makeshift teepees. Here, people, who may actually think its still 16 or 17 or 1840, sell all kinds of colonialesque stuff, like you could buy in Williamsburg. Then at the shooting range, they aim at posters of British soldiers instead of bulls eyes. priceless.

This pretty much concluded our short stay in Friendship, but the memories will live on forever, I assure you. Until next time, here's my husband back.

Friendship was wicked awesome. Things burned. Things exploded. Things got cut in half by primitive weapons. The Lord smiled on this patch of Indiana wilderness.

Day 7 - Chicagolandfieldvilledom. Deep. Dish. Pizza.

Day 4 OR Where The Crap Did We Put The Gold Bond?

2009-09-12T08:32:00.007-04:00

It's become somewhat of a tradition to see the Kessick children right after they're born... fresh out the oven, if you will. We rolled into Hudson OH yesterday and were immediately received by a chubby little nugget by the name of Charis Kessick. Here's Chandler getting her maternal instinct on with the proud momma:

Meanwhile, Kess and I got our man on and moved furniture:

...and just for fun, here's a picture of me holding a dead rattlesnake on a tray:

After these assorted shenanigans, we crossed the expanse of OH (the heart of it all). It was Chandler's first time in the midwest and she could barely contain her excitement, at one point even shouting, "I have to pee soon. Do you know where we put the granola?" with glee.

Last night we played poker with the Murphy's at their friend's place in Mason OH. Murph was my area director in college, as well as my foosball and raquetball foe, and an all around mench of a dude. I ended up netting 4.50 in the poker game on a big hand toward the end of the contest. I promptly took a shirtless victory lap around the house screaming cursewords triumphantly.

Day 5 - A day out in the 'Nati.

Day 3 OR Pete Wygant's Milkshake Brings All The Kids To Shop Class

2009-09-11T13:36:00.002-04:00

A pro's and con's list of Brad Schmitt's house:

Pro - It's in State College... like a nugget of gold in a pile of poop nuggets, the SC stands out amongst the rest of PA's college towns.

Con - It's not decorated at all. Like seriously... totally un-decorated. I may not be gay, but I know a decor disaster when I see it. It's bleak like a padded cell.

Pro - Brad's big effing tv. Man vs. Wild never looked so good. I could practically smell Bear Grylls... and he smelled like conquest.

Con - Seriously... there's nothing on the walls. At all. Not even smudge marks. Or scuffs.

Pro - His guest beds are wicked comfortable. I slept like a dead person would sleep if they weren't dead and took a lot of nyquil.

Con - I'm serious. There's nothing on the walls. I've seen padded cells with more pizazz.

All sterility aside, staying with Brad was awesome. Kudos for getting the exact same program assignment 3 years running dude (shafted!). The wife and I ambled around the SC for a few hours, bought Chandy Cane some Mountain Hardware pants at Ap House (homegirl rocks the granola look), ate some Panera, and busted out of there Shawshank style. Chandler went to the bathroom at a rest stop where a senile gentleman had just pissed on the seat of the women's restroom (classic!).

Two hours later we rolled into Franklin PA. As I opened the door of my car, mom and dad's chocolate lab Tess (short for Woodland's Lacka Testicles... dead serious. Way to go dad) jumped into the car and sat in Chandy's Pants' lap. The result - I'm totally getting a dog. She melted like a fudgesicle on a cheap college dorm hot plate. We ate chicken and dumplings that my mom made from scratch and I helped my dad with the construction of his new garage. Afterwards we went for a walk. Then Norman Rockwell painted us and we were filmed for a Country Time Lemonade commercial. It was freakin' awesome... and then the Steelers won, which was awesomer.

Day 4 - Hudson OH to see the Kessicks and the new nugget and onto the 'Nati to see the Murphy clan.

Day 1 + 2

2009-09-10T10:35:00.004-04:00

Every time I hit the brakes, an avalanche of crap descended upon my head. Shelby Woo the Subaru looked like an obese woman after a solid 2 hour session at the Ponderosa buffet - perilously stuffed, lurching forward only in protest, threatening to vomit its contents at the slightest jolt. We left the home of tax-free shopping at about 6:30 on Tuesday night after an 11 hour cleaning blitz on our home... which was comprised mostly of me lying on the floor complaining about cleaning while Chandler actually cleaned.

Three hours of speed limit driving later, we arrived in Fredericksburg, VA to see our homeslices Laura and Cliff Wright. Cliff is the YL area director in FXBG and looks dirty sexy in a v-neck t-shirt with all his burly chest hair erupting from the neck line (you can't defeat the chest hair... you can only hope to contain it). The first evening was spent at a fine dining establishment where the women discussed relationships, makeup, and daytime television while the men discussed how much it sucked to sit in the corner of the booth because the confined space did not allow your dice to roll (it confined your Olsen twins... it really cramped your Hardy boys - it was no mystery).

The next day we took a field trip to Lake Anna where we met a kindly old man named "T" or "Tea" or "Tee" who showed us around his lake house. From there, we proceeded to drive to Chipotle via backroads, revealing Virignia's true colors (a random goat on a porch eating a rose bush, more confederate flags than you could shake a stick at, pretty flowers, lots of cows). Our lunch at Chipotle was nothing short of ecstasy... a cornucopia of meats and cheeses and trans fats spilling out of the edges of a burrito bowl like an overflowing bath tub full of chocolate pudding and puppies. Glee.

We said our tearful (and for Cliff and I, vaguely fruity) goodbyes and headed toward State College... only to crawl along I-270 in a cuss word-filled jaunt through northern Virginia. I imagine hell being a lot like NVa, only with Nickelback on every radio station and Kathy Lee Gifford riding in the passenger seat.

We got to State College. We hung out with Robbie Howard, Sarah Lucas, Brad Schmitt, and Courtney Cox. We acted like college kids again. We rushed Kappa Sig. We stuffed a phone booth. We wore college sweaters. We gave it the old college try. And it was awesome.

Day 3 - Franklin... the land of unemployment and homemade jams and jellies. Punk rock.

you're wrong. it's stomp the yard.

2009-09-03T14:12:00.003-04:00

fall's back baby. like a classic rock band reunion tour that miraculously doesn't suck, fall returns with an unprecedented gusto and a fist full of awesome to smack us all around with. thank you sir, may i have another. seriously kids, fall injects a heaping pile of punk rock into our lives the way wilford brimley shoots genius into otherwise mediocre films (i.e. - ewoks: the battle for endor). spec-freakin'-tacular. fall, if it wanted to, could have saved disco. it could have made indiana jones and the kingdom of the crystal skull into a movie that didn't make me want to drive my car off a bridge holding a live puma. it could make black licorice actually taste good. it could probably cure prostate cancer if it felt like it. instead, fall makes just about everything else better.

i.e.:

starbucks. it's impossible not to feel gay when ordering anything at starbucks. try to feel like a man while ording a venti nonfat iced vanilla chai latte (i just started singing a song from rent while typing that). can't be done. slap a little fall on it though: pumpkin spice latte. bam. i don't care if you paint my car rainbow now, just hook me up with an i.v. of this crack-infused coffee drink and put a little wham on the stereo. wake me up before you go go!

weather. don't get me wrong, i love basting in a marinade of my own sweat and filth from the moment i step out of the shower till the moment i get back in as much as the next guy. 95 degrees/95% humidity isn't all that bad if you're the kind of dude who loves to lose 5 pounds just by walking outside to get the paper. that, however, is not how fall rolls. slap a little fall on it though: sunny with a high of 73. bam. bust out that hoodie and just leave those shorts on, mister. you're a master of fashion and as comfortable as a baby buried neck deep in puppies.

television. shark week was a month ago and i just came down off of that high. now i'm searching for something to fill that shark week on discovery channel-shaped void in my life. i've seen every episode of m.a.s.h. i can't handle all the shows about loggers and truckers that history and discovery are shoving down my throat. oh where, oh where is my quality television programming? what's that? slap a little fall on it? BAM. THE NEW SEASON OF MAN VS. WILD. hallelujah, my friends. just last night i watched this thoroughbred of a human being pimp smack the chihuahua desert in Texas like it wasn't no thing. last week he manhandled vietnam like it was nineteen seventy... uh... oh wait... we lost that war. um... man vs. wild totally rules.

sports. football. the world series. the return of hockey. thank you fall. thank you. thank you. thank you.

beer. yeah, i said it. i live one mile from the arguably the most cutting-edge craft brewery in the united states and i've come to appreciate their vast array of delicious fermented beverages. each has its own distinct characteristics coupled with subtle hints of flavors that guarantee set one's palate waltzing. slap a little fall on it? dogfish head punkin ale. bam. spicy. sweet. hoppy. smooth. euphoric. like autumn in a bottle. like finding a 20 in your winter jacket. like square dancing with gary coleman in a top hat on a mississippi river boat. beautiful.

ah yes my friends. celebrate with me, if you will, this season of seasons. because before we know if, we'll all be freezing our respective 'nads off.

listen to:
"gold country" by chuck ragan. makes me want to go prospectin' or shoot someone over a claim or respect a woman (like my momma taught me).

watch:
man vs. wild. can't say it enough.

can't stop checking out:
my 97 subaru outback. her name's shelby woo, and she's as sexy as the day is long. woo, you do your thang, girl!

hip hop gangster shoutout to:
dan and kc irvin. assignment wasn't the same without L.P. and the dominator.

PREPARE TO GET WYGANT-ED

2009-09-01T13:51:00.002-04:00

strike up the freakin' nerd-infused brass band, kids! it's the semi-finalized wygant world tour itinerary:

Sept 8 - Fredericksburg, VA for some Laura and Cliff Wright

9 - State College, PA to Brad that Schmitt

10 - Franklin, PA for the Katie monster, mommy and daddy

11 - Hudson, OH to take the Kessicks to lunch, and onto Toledo, OH for Dan and KC Irvin

12 - The 'Nati, OH to church ourselves at Vineyard and visit the Murphy Clan

13, 14 - Chicago, IL for Tasha for her possum impression, Barlich for his beard, and Lucia for his sass

15, 16, 17 - Denver to visit the Sawyers and the Tis experience

18, 19, 20 - Aspen, CO... the promised land to visit the Taylors (and possibly the new Taylor nugget... prayerfully named Chauncy)

21 - Arches Natl' Park, UT to camp 'n'at

22, 23 - Salt Lake City/Park City to see Donnie and Kim and to pass out on Allie's couch (dibs on spooning with the dog)

24, 25 - Emmett, ID for the Sebastians and to get the full Idaho experience

26, 27, 28 - Seaside, OR... because holy crap we love the Wolff's

29 - Redwood Natl' Park, CA to camp 'n'at

30, Oct. 1 - Yosemite Natl' Park, CA to camp 'n'at

2 - Great Basin Natl' Park, NV to camp 'n'at

3 - Grand Junction, CO because I haven't seen Mikie Harmeling in like 6 friggin' years

4 - Boulder, CO because what's life without a little Swalsh in it?

5 - Lincoln, NE to crash with an Uncle that Chandler barely even knows

6 - Chicago, IL the sequel!

7 - Home to watch Katie get her wedding on

October 13th - Roll into Aspen, shave, shower, beg for jobs.

get your tickets now. prep yourself for a vicious mosh pit and probably some raucous crowd surfing. who knows, maybe we'll get fired quick and go out for an encore in february.

hatin' on:
P90X: The Proof. no crap this stuff works, tony. just pitch it like a normal tv spokesperson: snort some coke, tuck in your shirt, and get a crowd that is easily thrown into disbelief.

Livin' High On The Hog

2009-08-25T12:18:00.002-04:00

what has 2 thumbs, disproportionate limbs, and no job? this guy. unemployment is, for lack of a better adjective, totally freakin' awesome. up to this point, unemployment has always been coupled with a negative stigma, a sort of condescending sneer down the nose at the jobless and pathetic. now that i have joined the proud ranks of 40 drinking underwear porch sitters, i can see the appeal. oh the freedom, my friends. the pure unadulterated freedom.

spend all day in my underwear? heck yes.

channel surf until my thumbs hurt and my brain is screaming for anything substantial to wrap itself around? sure.

beer at 9AM? now that's just sad. i'm jobless, not dan kalbach (zing!)

chuckle at my wife while she heads off in the morning to make a living? yes... at least until she gets pissed and hits me with an indian burn.

sleep in until 10? psssh... make it 11 and we've got a deal.

live off of the fat of society while my fellow man toils all day in the unforgiving sun? GOD. BLESS. AMERICA.

seriously kids, what could be better? this world is my big expensive oyster that i cannot afford, but i'm still gonna suckle the teet of this prosperous country until the river runs dry. the only thing that could make these 2 weeks of irresponsibility better is an encore of shark week on discovery channel, a venti nonfat iced vanilla chai latte, and a nice chocolate lab puppy. gourmet.

chandler and i leave on the 8th for our whirlwind american tour. we'll be living out of the car and crashing couches all across this land of the free and home of the morbidly obese, until october 13 when we settle down in sunny aspen. here's the hit list in order by our intended stops:

- brad "the answer" schmitt in state college.
- mom "glasses" and dad "the flannel" wygant in franklin, pa.
- the kessick family in husdon, oh
- dan "LP" and KC "the dominator" irvin in toledo, oh.
- the murphy's in the big 'nati (murph, you still owe me $8... or a trip to chipotle)
- tasha "the possum" bruinsma, steve "double down" lucia, and anthony "burns" barlich in chi-town
- the don and sarah in denver, plus a dash of swalsh in boulder
- backpacking with the tis family in aspen
- to aspen, to hit up the church and beg for a job in our future utopian mountain town
- to salt lake to see allie "shortstack" hemphill
- idaho... somewhere in the lower egypt portion of idaho to see the sebastians
- portland/seaside to cuddle with ian and katie wolff
- yosemite to camp and flip el cap the bird (and to fulfill a lifelong dream... to climb a bit of el cap in the nude... the whiteness of my no no zone will shine like a beacon to those below)
- lots of driving back across the country. no pants in nebraska. it's a rule. i can't break the rule. you can't fight city hall... it's too strong.
- atlanta for the inlaws family, seth "the beard" kelly, and kyle "the leg" belcher
- asheville to blend in with the hippies
- fredericksburg for a little bit o' laura and cliff wright... tasty
- home to pa to watch the little sister get hitched and watch the uncles kill hoards of pesky brain cells.

if you'd like to be added to the list, please comment... but make sure it's in king james english so that it keeps me entertained.

is possessing my goat as of late:
anything by alexi murdoch

reading:
mostly road signs and warning labels

how was:
inglourious basterds. dan... your opinion?

Program Videos

2009-08-16T20:51:00.001-04:00

Wes Broadhurst got game.

OLE!

2009-08-02T15:11:00.002-04:00

My boy Josh made this for our program assignment at Rockbridge this month:

Dude's like Rainman with a camcorder... only without the K-Mart and compulsive gambling.

I'm Not Mad, I'm Just Disappointed.

2009-07-31T10:55:00.003-04:00

Overnight, this became my new favorite website:

www.artofmanliness.com

It's like having a second dad... one that looks a lot like Tom Selleck.

2009-07-30T18:48:00.003-04:00

"...Squints went on to marry Wendy Peffercorn."

I haven't been beaten up since junior high. Figured I was due.

The Hardest Part About Rollerblading....

2009-07-28T10:08:00.003-04:00

Ok kids, here's the tentative plan for the Wygant World Tour 2009ish:

Depart Rehoboth Beach Delaware September 9 at approximately 10am.

Return to Rehoboth Beach Delaware at approximatly 11am because Chandler forgot something.

Baltimore

Franklin, PA

Hudson, OH

Cincinnati, OH

Toledo, OH

Chicago

Denver

Boulder/Fort Collins, CO

Salt Lake City/Park City

The Middle of Freakin' Nowhere Idaho

Portland

Crescent City, CA (Redwood Natl' Park)

San Francisco

Yosemite

Flagstaff, AZ (Lost Canyon)

Atlanta

Asheville, NC

Fredericksburg, VA

Franklin, PA on October 9th.

If you'd like to add a destination, a couch, a campground, a tourist attraction, or the world's largest ball of twine, please comment.

Jammin':
"Snowbirds and Townies", by Hit the Lights

Readin':
"Choke", by Chuck Palahniuk

Watchin':
Bite Me with Dr. Mike

Arts and Crafts... F

2009-07-04T23:47:00.005-04:00

As of late, my preferred workspace has taken the form of a particularly inviting patch of floor just in front of my love seat, facing the tv, and adjacent to the large window in my living room. My little nook of productivity has become encircled by a perimeter of popcorn bags, camp forms, computer cables, cd's, and, for some reason, baseball cards. I am the ruler of this 6x6 patch of berber carpet, the master of my domain, the king of my castle.

As glorious as it may seem to have a cubicle that all but requires a dress code of underwear, five o'clock shadow, and ranch dressing stains, there are certain limitations. For instance, I have to hurdle a couch when nature calls (or screams, depending on how much Crystal Light I pound during Man vs. Wild). If I settle in for a 5 hour stretch or longer, the berber starts to feel like steel wool mixed with real wool and I get a nasty rash. And finally, with 19 channels of HBO and an assortment of smoked meats in the fridge, I don't get out much.

So, for the 947 of my facebook friends who I haven't spoken with lately, here's the latest in Wygant news:

Chandler is pregnant.

J.K. I think...

But seriously kids, the big news around the Wygant townhouse lately is that we're moving in September. Here are the specs:

Where: Colorado. Aspen, specifically.
When: September-ish. Chandler has to work through labor day weekend, then we're both unemployed.
Still working for Young Life: No, taking a breather. Getting involved in a church, then hopefully coming back with a vengeance in a year or two.
Can I come sleep on your floor: Assuming that we'll have a floor for you to sleep on, yes. We'd be pissed if you didn't visit us.
Is Chandler really pregnant: Probably not. I honestly think it's impossible after all the years of baseball, bike riding, and ball tags I've taken from the YL dudes over the years. I'm probably a mule.

Tasty New Jams:
"The Hazards of Love" by the Decemberists and "Reach For The Sun" by The Dangerous Summer

Hip Hop Gangster Shoutout To:
Rob Gerstenberger, financial guru.

"It's... I'm gonna do all the grocery shopping for the White House myself."

2009-04-29T12:05:00.006-04:00

I remember the first time I met Kyle Taylor. As I arrived to a meeting of fellow college students with the intention of eating some free food and throwing a smattering of game at assorted comely lasses, a scruffy yet handsome sasquatch of a man approached me from the guacamole bowl. "What's up dude, I'm Kyle," he said with a toothy grin and a hint of mischief in his voice. As I shook his meaty man-hand, he proceeded to thwack me in the 'nads with his left hand, never breaking eye contact. "Welcome!" he said as I so rudely coughed up one of my boys on his shoes... Those shoes. I was transfixed by this perplexing Picasso-esque set of footwear. They closely resembled the type of kicks I could imagine a young Jesus Christ sporting... a sandal that securely wrapped the entire foot with a strap material that looked like it was stolen from a passed out wookie's t-shirt after a long night at Bonnaroo. I chuckled a bit in the midst of the pain. "What the crap are those?", I asked. "These are Chacos, boss", he replied whilst double-dipping a chip in the guac, "God's gift to feet."

Chicks diggit.

Thus began an awkward love affair... not with Kyle (I'm married... to a girl), but to this particular brand of sandal. I was hesitant at first. My traditionally punk rock roots forbade such an eccentric footwear. The webbing and black rubber sole would have clashed tragically with my torn jeans and black t-shirts. As my college years progressed, however, I found that I could no longer resist the call of the Jerusalem cruisers. So, with fear and trembling, I bought my first pair of Chacos on sale for $50.

Immediately I was thrust into a world of magic and adventure. Within the first two weeks of donning these kicks I grew a patchy granola beard, much to the dismay of everyone around me. Showering became optional, as did laundering my haggard Dickies and homemade flannel shirts. I habitually completed my sentences with the word "bro" or some mutation of the word "dude" (i.e. duder, dudestein, duuoouude, dudeness, or dud) and started sizing up buildings, bridges, and road signs by their climbability. Despite my minimal experience in rock climbing, I would pause during my daily stroll to class in front of the art building on the Penn State campus, size up the assortment of pillars and seams between the bricks, spit into a nearby bush and mutter, "I'd handle that dude".

I've since toned down my pursuit of the backcountry granola brah stereotype. But still, every time I strap up those webbing and rubber monsters, my 3 chest hairs grow an extra millimeter, my voice deepens an octave, my hair tangles into a bed-headed train wreck, and I glare at the nearest stone structure... spit... and mutter, "I could send that brah".

Big Ups To:
NYC. Nice 'burgh. Props to Steve, Bjorn, Blake, Eric, Mandy, Derek, that dude who showed me a picture of his Ducati for no reason, assorted cab drivers, the subway system, street meat, schmearing, and all the good folks at Sacred Tattoo.

Listen To Some:
Northstar, "For Members Only Acoustic"

Still Awesome:
Puppies.

I've Been Given Permission to Dance if I Want To, Even If It Means Leaving My Friends Behind

2009-04-23T18:21:00.005-04:00

OYEZ OYEZ MY FRIENDS! I have ascended the veritable pinnacle of consumer bliss, and good gravy on a Honda hatchback is the view spectacular. When prehistoric man constructed a system in which monetary units could be exchanged for goods and services, he no doubt awoke one night in his dimly-lit cave exclaiming, "HOLY CRAP I CAN'T WAIT TILL SOMEONE INVENTS THE SCOTTS 16" ELITE PUSH REEL MOWER!"

CUE THE FREAKING CHORUS OF ANGELS:

I know, right? I swear this little hunk of Chinese steel glowed when I opened the box (some assembly required). I wept openly as I gently screwed the hefty carriage bolts into the perfectly molded plastic wing nuts, wondering all the while if this is what God felt like when He so beautifully crafted the first Pop Tart. Empowered, enlightened, enveloped by a heavenly aura of excited sweat and packing peanuts, I stormed out of my house into a driving rainstorm followed closely by Mia, our canine house guest who happens to be the great-great-great grand daughter of one of Hitler's bitches. Determined to wield my new instrument of lawn and garden nad-kickery in spite of the inclement weather, I quickly chose a patch of particularly unruly yard-fro and proceeded to TEAR. IT. UP.

...until the second pass when I hit a gargantuan dog turd.

Day? Ruined.

Big ups to:
Marty Krider. You do your thang, girl.

Diggin' on:
Steve Kelly's newest ear candy, This Is A Standoff.

Confession:
I hate classic rock.

that was intense... really intense.

2009-04-05T01:37:00.002-04:00

the updated life goal list -

STUFF TO GIT DONE BEFORE I BITE IT:

- get my $8 from murph
- legitimize the manskirt phenomenon
- climb 5.11 naked
- set myself on fire for program
- ride an irish wolfhound through a crowd of people while wearing a toga and carrying an american flag
- figure out exactly who shot the deputy
- sport nappy dreads and homemade clothing
- live with nate scott, tom burkholder, and danny rose again
- be truly homeless for awhile
- play this song on guitar
- own a dog named guster
- finish a public speech by lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag, pointing with it between my fingers, and exhaling to emphasize my final point
- get that chevy camaro crashing into an american flag whilst being lifted by an eagle carrying a "these colors don't run" banner tattoo on my back that i've always wanted
- punch a member of nickelback
- watch every zombie movie ever made
- get a book published
- be the posterboy for something... preferably honey graham o's or some kind of firearm company
- meet tupac shakur... i assume he's hiding somewhere in canada
- disrespect the state of texas just a little bit
- kill a wolverine with my bare hands. how hard could it be?

big ups to:
the sawyer family, the tis's's's, crooked creek ranch, the taylor's, and the letter 7.

listen to some:
john butler trio... while sitting in a lawn chair... wearing jorts

giddy as steve feather at a harry potter release party about:
getting a puppy/the impending summer here at the beach/watching 'away we go' in june

"o' canada" is meant to be sung with a tone of exasperation

2009-03-09T16:23:00.002-04:00

try as i might, i cannot give up punk rock. i lay awake at night shivering and sweating, hallucinating spiders and gnomes running across the foot of my bed, all the while just dying to hear one speeding, politically-fueled anthem to angry youth whilst pumping my defiant fist in the air. i dream of pittsburgh, of smoke-filled bars, of chuck taylors and plain black t-shirts, of spikes and chains and mohawks, of compilation cd's and crappy cars with band bumper stickers.

today... i got my fix - Propaghandi's new album, "Supporting Caste". it kicks like a rabid wildebeast in a cocaine kiddie pool. ferocious. looking for a great gift for your grandma's birthday? looking for a soundtrack to your nephew's bar mitzvah? looking for a few songs to entertain the kids on a long car ride?

this is not the album. proceed with caution. propaghandi will melt your ears off, cuss out your mom and then set fire to your cat.

mad props once again to:
mr. steve kelly

not sure how i feel about:
watchmen

still can't grow:
a mustache