American Soup

Grandpa

2008-05-21T14:37:00.004-04:00

This was included in my grandfather's remembrance booklet.

The best way to celebrate one's life is by sharing memories. The following are memories I have of Grandpa, and things I learned from him along the way.

1) In America, we drive Fords.
2) Grey New Balance 991 Running Shoes are the best.
3) You've reached a new level of "male greatness" when your living room is in the garage.
4) It's ok to shape your hamburgers like chocolate donut holes.
5) When organizing the Fourth of July golf shot competition, the "intrinsic value" of the prizes are inverseley proportional to the place they are awarded. (However, it is difficult to argue the intangible value of duct tape).
6) There is nothing unfunny about winning a prize that you gave Grandpa the previous Christmas.
7) When you get a bargain, shout it from the rooftops.
8) I think everyone secretly wants a blue tractor.
9) Moving things from Point A to Point B to Point A is perfectly acceptable when you own a blue tractor.
10) When life hands you lemons, make 6 children.. (Grandpa's army leader told his entire platoon that they would never have children because of exposure to a detonated atomic bomb).
11) Put in a hard days work.
12) Inflation is real. Until about 1998, Grandpa would generously give out his "Merry X-mas" envelope, and say "don't spend it all in one place!" However, in time, this transitioned to "Well, maybe you can buy a tank of gas.."
13) The annual summer "fill up on Grandpa" at Joneseys gas station is something I will do for my grandchildren.
14) The merits of Scotch.
15) The demerits of the Yankees.
16) Why hire a latino pool boy when you can do it yourself.
17) Find the coolest girl you know and marry her.
18) Family comes first.

I miss you, Grandpa.

What's worse that getting a tetanus booster shot when you're 12 years old???

2007-11-23T15:09:00.000-05:00

Getting one when you're 26 and being crippled by it.

I hadn't been to a doctor in approximately too many years, and I figured since I now have insurance, I might as well be tested for acute molluscom contagiousum and bird flu.

The first question he asked was "when was the last time you had a tenanus shot?" Putting on my most apt clueless countenance, I responded with "4th grade?? ish". That got the ball rolling to the point that he jabbed the needle in my arm and injected me with the tetanus fighting goodness. This did not hurt.

What I didn't expect was having no discernable use of my right arm for the following 36 hours (to date) and for what I presume, until Columbus Day.

Lifting my arm is an epic feat of grit and determination, and I am fairly confident I would lose to a fully matured 5 year old girl in an arm wrestling match. (not that I have arm wrestling matches with grade school girls.. often).

Ever had one of those days?

2007-07-21T14:29:00.000-04:00

You get woken up by an earthquake, you're late for work, your boss is pissed at you and then you go to the bathroom and your underpants are on backwards..

Well, that was yesterday for me. Inexplicable, really.

At 4:45am on Friday, July 20, I experienced an earthquake for the first time. 4.2 Magnitude; rather benign in the scheme of things, but slightly unnerving nonetheless. I woke up to my bed- which is on a wheeled bedframe- rolling back and forth about 10 inches. For illustrative purposes, imagine you're on a stretcher with probably sand-papery sheets and an unmarked individual is pushing you back and forth at a medium pace whispering sweet trembling noises into your ear.

My alarm clock was not due to go off until 6:56am (I only wake up to palindromes), however at 4:46am I was wide awake wondering if I was going to be the first person ever to achieve heart failure from a tremor under 4.5.

Not for lack of effort, I couldn't get back to sleep for the life of me.. Until 6:40am, when I fell into that really deep sleep that happens after you've been lying awake for hours and finally give up on actually trying to sleep. Predictably, 6:56am rolled around, and I was comatose. After exerting all inner-strenth to raise my arm and reset the alarm to 7:27, I steadied myself for 31 more minutes of deep sleep and weird dreams.. Which clearly didn't come, as I started thinking about falling asleep.

So, at 7:05 I stumbled down the hall and got in the shower where an Edge Shave Gel (33% more) canister fall on my foot from a perch high enough to hurt badly.

Then I dressed myself with my recently purchased some Nautica boxer briefs, which unorthodoxly have the tag in the front. finished dressing, got to work late, didn't get a project reviewed in time to insert into the booklet that is going out to the visiting east coast porfolio manager.. for shame. And finally, had a moment to myself at the urinal, and when I was looking for the "door" of my undergarments, I instead found no "door".

Long story short, Earthquakes freak me out, I'm not a great sleeper and I'm accustomed to the tag in the back.

Ikea: Where the world goes for cheap crap.

2007-05-27T20:37:00.000-04:00

Why does everything "Swedish" have to be so damn good??? Seriously; Volvos, Meatballs, Supermodels, Fish (the red ones are the best), tempurpedic sleep systems...

And now I have to begrudgingly admit; Ikea.

I had heard many things about Ikea, but I had never been to this monstrosity of a store before. So, from my pre-conceived notions I knew that Ikea had cornered the market on cheap, poor quality furniture for college students and poor young professionals.

And after my first visit, I don't think I was off by much. There is no other way to describe Ikea's products as inexpensive, flimsy, not assembled, breakable, not all together unattractive, not real wood, yet useful and a good substitute until you can afford real furnishing or buy a house.

I feel as though Ikea is the "My First Sony" of home decor. Just as those red electronic consumer products provided children a conduit to real/adult walkmans, tape recorders and portable singing machines, Ikea is the diaper training to furniture shopping (only without the urination).

Speaking of, my trip to Ikea started with a mad sprint to the bathroom to take a piss. Upon saddling up to the Urinal, unzipping, dislodging and starting the flow, I was immediately startled (and dismayed) by the fact that the urinal surface was angled so that my pee splattered directly off the porcelain and back onto my pants. Guys- you know what I'm talking about. Girls- imagine you're 12 inches away from a brick wall and you pull the trigger of a super-soaker 3000x.. You're gonna get wet.

Here is a timeline of my trip to Ikea that I only wanted to take 15 minutes:

7:04PM- Enter.
7:05PM- Inadvertently pee on self.
7:07PM- Get lost.
7:10PM- Realize they have a path with signs directing you around the show room. I follow the yellow brick road.
7:12PM- Check out rugs. Unbuyable.
7:20PM- Pick out Curtain Rods. (Have I mentioned how extreme of a life I lead?)
7:30PM- Start looking at bureaus and bedside tables. (The edge is what I live on)
8:15PM- Still looking, I stumble across a food court in the store. I order the swedish meatball dinner & Mac 'n Cheese.
8:45PM- Relish in the fact that I just ate 15 meatballs for $3.
8:50PM- Return to show room. Pick out the damn matching bureau and nightstand.
8:51PM- Realize I have to go to the warehouse on the other side of the world to pick up my items. I do this.
9:15PM- Check out. load it into my car and drive home.
9:45PM- Assembly is quickly halted since I only picked up 2 of the 3 boxes I was supposed to pick up.

The next few weeks consist of: me losing the receipt in a move, them telling me I can't get the other box without the receipt, me asking them what do they expect me to do with half of an inexpensive, flimsy, not assembled, breakable, not all together unattractive, not real wood, yet useful bureau, them telling me I'm an idiot, me telling them to fuck off, them going back and recreating my receipt, me going to customer service, dealing with some choice invalids at returns, and after 1.5 hours of waiting get my piece of shit bureau.

Again, I love swedish meatballs.

Premature Balding

2007-05-27T20:34:00.000-04:00

I work in an office. I have to wear dress socks. They are really tight. They are starting to cause my leg hair underneath my socks to thin. Eventually, I assume, that if I stay on this course, I will be bald from my shin down.

Yet another reason to travel and wear flip-flops.

ps. I take solace in the fact that I have a full head of hair.

Words to live by..

2007-05-27T20:32:00.001-04:00

A few days ago I heard this on the radio for the first time in about 7 years. I am sure you've read or heard these lyrics before, but if you haven't, I recommend giving the link below a spin. I love these words of wisdom.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwVVpwBKUp0&mode=related&search=

King Arthur's a pansy compared to these folks

2007-05-27T18:40:00.000-04:00

I got off the BART (San Francisco's subway) the other night and I was walking to my car to drive home-

Before the parking lot came into view, I heard several violently sharp noises, as if someone was hitting a hard object with a 2X4..

And sure enough, when I rounded the corner, the parking lot was full of people dressed up as medieval knights having sword fights with wooden swords, which I can only presume were originally 2X4's.

I had to chuckled to myself. Here I was, tired, and somewhat beat down from a long day at work, and then I wander upon 40 adults dressed up to the nines (medievally, of course) re-enacting a knights tale underneath the freeway in Oakland. And no camera's were rolling. Apparently, this is a weekly event on Thursday nights after 8pm.

Needless to say, this put a smile on my face. Double needless to say, I went directly to my local blacksmith (Todd), and asked him to whip me up some good 14th century armory with snazzy buckles.

There's nothing like getting medieval on someone.

Non-stop service from Hartford, CT to Amsterdam.. WTF!

2007-05-27T18:31:00.000-04:00

travel deals on: http://matadortravel.com/fresh

First of all, this is utterly ridiculous. And awesome at the same time. This is of discernible interest to me because I went to college in Hartford, CT and when I was living there, the Hartford Airport offered service to approximately 2.5 airports: Baltimore, Cincinnati and sometimes Newark. Talk about a vacation to die for. (eg: an above average likelihood of being shot).

Lets be serious for a second- Do you remember your college schedule? I do. The last three years of college I only took classes Tuesday thru Thursday with exquisitely drunk 4-day weekends in between. If this deal was around back in my heyday, I would have gone to Amsterdam on a tri-weekly basis*.

*This is entirely untrue, seeing as though I was a broke mo' fo' in college like most other students. BUT, lets suspend our disbelief for arguments sake, and imagine there are rich kids who attend small private liberal arts schools in New England and could afford such extravagance.. (A crazy thought, I know.)

That would have been such a cool-ass weekend trip to take during college. And I don't even like smoking pot, windmills or hookers. Just to take a long weekend to Holland from some derelict American city with no redeemable qualities like Hartford, CT is reason enough to hop on a 6 hour flight for me! That, and being locked in a room with unlimited beer at the Heineken Brewery for 1 hour after the brewery tour. Pure wonderment.

The countdown has begun..

2007-03-17T13:33:00.000-04:00

T-minus 2 days until I start my new job. When I start on Monday, it will mark the end of my 418 day vacation between real employment. A feat I am extremely proud of. It has been the best year of my life, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. (possible exception: someone professionally cleaning my room (and front car seat) in the next 24 hours).

I remember when I was looking for jobs out of college, I told myself: "I've had a lot of fun for the last 21 years, so it's time to suck it up and work 80-100 hour weeks for 5 years, have no discernible life and set myself up for a decent existence down the road.."

Boy, was that the dumbest thing my brain has ever produced. 4 years removed from graduation, and I am no where near where I thought I would be. And I love it. Sure, I am settling back into a decent and safe career, but no matter how much I get into my work, quality of life will always be priority #1. (At least until I have kids, then it will become priority #32 behind such things as; potty training, ass wiping, gerber food shipments, my wife's tolerance for juvenile behavior/humor, etc.)

While I embark on a new job and a little more stability in my life after 1+ years of living on couches, floors, nappy hostel mattresses, single beds, king beds, in tents, on buses, on planes, in cars, and everywhere in between, I will never stop craving surprises, unpredictabilities, new challenges and blue powerade. Never!

It has been one hell of a ride thus far, and the thing I look most forward to, is not knowing where life is going to take me. (Although I must admit, it is somewhat depressing knowing that I will never be a professional baseball player or child chess prodigy).

Real World Praha

2007-03-06T09:36:00.001-05:00

This is the true story:

Of four non-strangers, 25 years in age (actually, the geriatric "casey" cat is 26), not-picked to live in an apartment, but living in an apartment nonetheless, not-picked to not-work together, and have their lives taped (confessional style in the bathroom on the low-flow toilet with a digital camera on a 4-inch tripod). To find out what happens when Kev and Casey (hosts in prague) start being polite again, (because the friend-o-meter is rising like a yeast infection) and continue being real with imported pals Frank and Stu. The Real World.

Ok, I just took the liberty of kicking my own ass for altering the sanctity of the Real World intro. I also just kissed my wallet sized photo of Wes and Johanna because it's a day of the week. (News flash to Catherine Zeta-Z and John Cusack -and later Julia Roberts: there's a new America's Sweethearts in town.)

I flew in to Prague, Czech Republic on Saturday, and I am very pleased to be here. There a 97% chance that this is one of the top 10 weekends of 2007!!

Kevin is a friend of mine from college and Casey is his fried from high school. Casey may not admit to this immediately, but we are BEST friends already. Frank is my skinny friend from college, and flew in from Virginia.

To report on the abode Kev and Casey are staying in, it is a lovely post-modern ski lodge on the 4th floor of a art-deco architectural marvel. I don't know what deco means. The refrigerator actually heats things up, so we have put all articles that we want to keep cold on the window ledge. Fingers crosses- we haven't lost anything yet.

The toilets have a very thin "seat" which poses a threat of falling in to the bowl if you have a waist of 30 inches or less. Which obviously means Kev, Casey and I are taking shifts monitoring Franks bathroom visits. Don't want to lose him.

Prague is such a cool city. Without actually knowing where the movie was filmed, this the city surroundings make me feel like Jason in the Bourne Identity and/or Supremacy. (Only without any discernible self-defense skills, an attractive women running around with me or a bullet wound in my back). Although, I suppose there I still have 3 more days here.. so there's still time.

I haven't really done much here. Prague is the perfect city to just walk around and get lost in. And to be frank, it's impossible not to get lost with the layout of their streets. It appears their urban planner was a drunk teenager using an etch-a-sketch blindfolded and listening to Nirvana.

Strolling the cobblestone streets, chilling by the river and viewing the Baroque architecture is a pleasurable way to spend an afternoon. So too, is sitting in a pub or my friends dope apartment a few blocks away from the Charles Bridge.

It's good to be here. I know approximately 1 Czech word and it is Jaromir Jagr.

toolbag

2007-03-04T14:34:00.001-05:00

Someone peed in my car during rideshare on the Bay Bridge. newsworthy..?

2007-02-26T19:10:00.000-05:00

This is a letter I sent to the SF Chronicle several days ago:

To Whom it May Concern:

Just wanted to make someone aware that at approximately 9:05AM today, while
driving three people (picked up in the Berkeley rideshare on College
Ave/Claremont Ave) over the Bay Bridge from Berkeley to Downtown SF, the man
sitting shotgun pulled out a plastic bag and started fiddling with his pants
button/zipper to pee in the bag. I put the kibosh on this action right away,
stating "WTF: we are 5 minutes away from downtown. HOLD IT. you are a grown
up man. WTF!!".

This was the first day I have ever participated in picking people up so to
ride in the carpool lane. This was clearly a bad decision.

There was a lot of traffic, and we were just passing through the Treasure
Island Tunnel. After about 2-3 minutes of groaning from the man, he went
quiet. This was disheartening, as my investigative reasoning led me to
conclude that he pissed his pants, and more disturbingly, my cloth passenger
side seat.

I contemplated stopping the car and dropping him off on the bridge, but
realized he would either be run over or fall off the bridge and I would be
charged with involuntary manslaughter. We still had about 5-10 minutes in
the car. I was steaming, but what can you say or do. The two people in the
back were speachless and shocked. As was I.

When I got to the city, I pulled over and screamed at him and demanded he pay for my detailing.
He said no, and pointed out that I agreed to drive him and he thanked me for the ride..
What do you do in that situation? My friends said i should have called the
cops.. I wasn't going to do that. fyi: He wasn't homeless,
but he clearly has multiple problems.. There is nothing I could have done. I
can't screen passengers that quickly at a pick up spot. He looked
respectable.

Anyway, long story short, this type of shit happens to me all the time. I
just never thought it would get to the point that someone I was nice enough
to give a ride to would take the liberty of emptying his bladder in my front
seat.

Absurdity at its finest.

Stuart Poole

My first Start-Up Mixer event.. Nerd Alert!

2007-02-23T19:57:00.000-05:00

A few nights ago I went to the SF Beta event in San Francisco. What does "SF Beta" mean you might ask?? Well, from what I gather, it is just an excuse to cram 150-200 mostly computer nerds into one room and have them get cyber hard-ons while explaining their start-up websites to one another. It really was spectacular. There was enough Ram pulsating through that room to sink one of the smaller Peloponnesian islands.

Since these are the supposed innovative people changing the world, they have started trends that I hope die very soon. Such as dropping the letter "e" on their titles or company names on their name tags. For instance- and I think we can all blame Flickr.com for this- a person isn't a programmer, but rather a programmr. They are a Directr. They are an Inspectr. When they're mad, they Bickr. After writing several pages of code, they presumably get a bonr. You get the point.

We were getting free drinks, which made all the Web 2.0 nonsense talk considerably better. We also received a free gift bag, which included a pint glass, a coffee mug, a pen and what I though was a highlighter, but turned out to be a screw driver. This was the most exciting part of the night. Other than demo'ing the site "Likebetter.com", which is a website that determines what you like/who you are, after you click on images for a while, and having it tell me that I'm a smoker and I don't drink. Ironically, even though I despise smoking and I had a beer in my hand, he'll probably be a millionaire in few months.

Still a fun event to go to, as the venue was the same venue as the Matadortravel.com launch party in March, and the Managr comped us drinks all night.

FW: I usually do forwards...

2007-02-12T13:09:00.001-05:00

Look for the face in the beans..

This is bizarre - after you find the guy - it's rather obvious. Once you
find him - it's embarrassing, and you think, Why didn't I see him
immediately?

Doctors have concluded that if you find the man in the coffee beans in 3
seconds, your right half of your brain is better developed than most
people. If you find the man between 3 seconds and 1 minute, your right
half of the brain is developed normally. If you find the man between 1
minute and 3 minutes, then the right half of your brain is functioning
slowly and you need to eat more protein. If you have not found the man
after 3 minutes, the advice is to look for more of this type of
exercise to make that part of the brain stronger. Or in layman terms: quit taking drugs.

Ps. I found it in two seconds- Which is probably why I somewhat regularly refer to myself as Einstein's illegitimate love child.

And, yes, the man is really there. Creepy looking, but really there.

Boring + zzz + wet + weird guy in unitard with funny looking guitar = SUPERBOWL

2007-02-05T20:35:00.000-05:00

Is it me or did I just watch the ugliest (and potentially the most boring) football game in Superbowl history??

After the first 7 seconds of the game, I didn't get excited once. Although I must concede, by the third quarter my friends and I were having increasing excitement predicting which member of the Colts secondary would intercept Grossman's next pass.

Granted, the rain certainly played a part. But, I can't really remember one play other than Hester's Kick-Off return, that long Bears' run and about 8 fumbles that got a rise out of people. I'm glad for Peyton. He's a good man, destined for more commercial shoots.

Speaking of, which Ads did people think were the funniest??

My list looks something like this (I am sure I am forgetting a few good ones):

1) Sierra Mist "beard-over" with frayed cut-off jeans shorts and roller skates. Simply Amazing. (Two commercials later, Sierra Mist sabotaged their funniness with the Karate Class Commercial).

2) Chevy's shirtless men dancing around the car (Mostly because of the 1-second shot of the man in tighty whities on a horse.)

3) Bud light: Girl: "The man has an Axe.." Guy "Yea, but he also has Bud Light" Girl: "Hey, what's the axe for??" Man With Axe: " mmm.. Bottle Opener" Guy: "Hop on in"

4) I thought the Career Builder ones were clever.

Anyway, Good for Peyton and the Colts. They deserve it. Too bad for the Bears they didn't have a semi-useful quarterback.

ps. Is anyone else slightly surprised Prince performed in the rain?? For some reason, I imagined he'd bail on the half time show, so not to get wet.

First day of skiing this year... yahoo!

2007-01-31T20:05:00.000-05:00

The first step off the chairlift and down the unloading ramp on the first day of the year is a touch unnerving. Thoughts of: "Did I forgot how to ski?", "I hope I don't break both femurs", or "do these snow pants sufficiently highlight my calves?" might be running through your head. Confidence has been higher.

You buckle your boots. The first 100 or so yards are inevitably flat terrain, but because it is your first day you try to make semi-large arcing turns to warm up, which is just awkward because turning on flats is unnecessary.

You stop at the top of a Blue Square. You're a little tight. You probably didn't stretch. And if you did, it was for 15 seconds. You wonder if your dins are set too high. You wonder how in Gods green earth could so much rust accumulate on your edges. Someone in your ski group probably asked if you ever wear a helmet, and you responded; "No. But I should" (But you never will until you run head first into a native fur while glades skiing). You put down your goggles. The foam is slightly crusted because they just sat in your ski bag for the last 10 months. This doesn't bother you. The people traversing the hill in a snow plow does however.

And then.. you're off. Uneasy at first, but after a few turns it's as though summer never existed and last year's winter never left. If feels natural to be on your skis. They feel comfortable. It's like you've been reunited with a long lost lover or your favorite comfort food (eg: Bagels, Burritos, anything at IHOP). Accelerating, cruising, carving, blowing by all the snow plowing riffraff, you REMEMBER HOW to do this! It's good to be back.

You ski until the lifts close at 4pm. At days end you make a B-line for the apre ski Bar. You take off your hat and your hair looks stupid. -Which is ok, because everyone else's hair looks just as dumb. Your cheeks are rosy. You order a beer (Fat Tire). It's the best beer you've ever had. You talk about the day with your buddies. 15 minutes later you order another beer. It's the second best beer you've ever had. Your cheeks are rosier. It's good to be back.

You wake up the next morning. You can't move. Muscles you were unaware existed are throbbing in pain and soreness. Your lower back is killing. You wonder why your head hurts. You remember the role Fat Tire played the previous evening. You nod your head in acceptance and then wonder why you woke up wearing your ski goggles.. It's good to be back.

Ps. Has a company ever turned a word/phrase that's so fun to say into a word that we no longer want to use like Yahoo.com??

The most athletic vegetable in the world.. Squash

2007-01-24T19:49:00.000-05:00

Squash is similar to Racquetball in that games are played in enclosed courts, there are two players, and participants are typically wearing goofy-looking goggles.

But that is where the similarities end.

Squash is a game of skill, precision, athleticism, dexterity and thought, and the ball needs to get warmed up for it to bounce.

Racquetball is more a hard hitting game of athleticism, diving and blue balls.

Whichever game you choose, you will no doubt get one hell of a work out, and very likely suffer some resemblance of a heart attack, collapsed lung and/or heat stroke the first time you play a quality player.

I played squash for the first time in 2 years yesterday, and I cannot move right now.

My lower back feels like Dolly Parton's, my calves and hamstrings are useless, and I can hardly sit in my chair because my ass muscles hurt so much.

Nonetheless, I am psyched to get back into the game, even if it means I am a cripple for 24-36 hours hours following each match. In fact, my new years resolution (starting Feb. 1st) is to substitute drinking with squash, as I might as well be sore for 1.5 days, instead of entirely useless as is normally the case with hangovers.

I suppose I wanna be a toy R' us kid (thinking out loud)

2007-01-19T21:14:00.000-05:00

Why are so many of my acquaintances in such a hurry to grow up? Don't we have the rest of our lives to be old??

While I have been kicking and screaming into adulthood, my friends and many of my fellow mid-20 somethings have been getting engaged, sending out pre-meditated Christmas cards, acquiring graduate degrees, matching couch ensembles, mortgages, subscriptions to Hearth & Home magazine, flower vases for their coffee tables, etc.

I mean fuck, my old apartment was completely furnished off of craigslist. Double fuck, I don't even have an apartment right now. Triple f, I wouldn't even know where to buy a vase. A Quadruple f is probably something Oxana Baiul would do in combination with a sow cow

I have always taken the stance that I will officially grow up when I am either A) In a relationship, hopelessly whipped, and I slip one past the goalie, B) In a bar and Irish Car Bombs are no longer fun and tasty, or C) someone younger than me tells me to grow up.

This is not to say I don't take my professional life seriously, because we all want to be successful and contribute to a worthwhile enterprise. I just prefer to delay the inevitable. Here's to never letting the kid in us die. cheers.

Read like butterfly, Sting like a Spelling Bee

2007-01-12T11:27:00.000-05:00

What ever happened to Mega Speed Reading??

Remeber that chubby guy, Kevin Trudeau, in infomercials who scanned pages with his hand at a healthy clip (maybe 5 seconds a page) and then he would take a cognition test and score in the 95th percentile??

My first question is; 95th percentile of what?? And who else was taking this test?

Or do you remember the kid on the same infomercial who finished reading a book (with his father creepily hanging over his shoulder watching him read), and when he closes the book, he pumps his fist in delight?? Wonder what that kid is doing now?

I read at what clinical physicians call "a slow pace". Always have. So to remedy the situation back in High School, I repeatedly asked my parents to buy the Mega Speed Reading system so I could unlock the speed reading wizard inside me. But they never budged. I used to put them on guilt trips that they didn't love me and they wanted me to fail out of school and become a subway sandwich artist. (Every parents dream, right?). But still they didn't succumb to my requests.

Well, my parents were right after all. After a intensively diligent 4-second Google search, the top page came back reading:

INFOMERCIAL SCAMS.COM - MEGA SPEED READING

This was followed by minutes of sorrowful weeping, and the unnecessary throwing of objects around my room. I was duped.

But have no fear, because I just purchased Evelyn Wood's "7 days until you read like a nascar racer" program, which is a steal at $199.95.

How y'all doin'??

2007-01-11T19:39:00.000-05:00

Have you ever noticed how fun it is to speak with a different accent?? It rarely fails to bring a smile to your face- probably because you're butchering the accent terribly, but every once in a while the smile arises because you're actually pretty good at it.

My smiles are mostly derived from my ruthlessly sucky accents, or the fact that I often complement them with an impromptu ethnic dance (think irish jig or canadian tuxedo slide).. However, after my most recent road trip to the Southeast, you are now talking to the grand master flash of the Southern Accent. I am regular Davey Crockett**. While I realize it is near impossible to purvey my southern accent over a Matador blog (look for a podcast in late April) please be certain that it is perfect.

I think I was meant to be a southerner. I've talked with a few of the South's HR directors and I'm thinking about sending in my application in the next few weeks. Here are my credentials:

1) I haven't worn them in decades, but I bet I look excellent in overalls.
2) I like Chick-Fil-A restaurants and alligators.
3) I love saying 'please pass mo' pecan pie', 'way down yonder' and 'the deader the better'.
4) I am a champion of Shrimp Cocktail.
5) I'm fork-lift certified.

I realize these are stereotypes of the south, and in actuality, my opinion of the south is that I really dig it. Another actuality is that I really suck at the southern accent. But it's fun as hell to do, and I'll post it on small world too, but if any southerner wants to do a mutual language/accent swap, I'm in.

**I assume he had a southern accent.

Doing my best to not talk shit about the south

2007-01-09T14:09:00.000-05:00

Never in my life did I think I would spend any time in Asheville, North Carolina. Nor did I believe an afternoon of my existence would be spent lallygagging in Chattanooga, Tennessee. But I proved myself wrong. Twice. I also firmly believed that I would never actually use the word lallygagging in written or verbal communication. But again, I have proven myself inexact.

On a road trip from DC to Atlanta with my friend Keri, both of these unlikely events took place. It is tough to write amazing reviews about these places, but the fact of the matter is, I have to, as I am writing this under the stringent guidelines of Keri (a southerner), who articulately remarked: "Don't talk shit about the south".

The reason it is tough to write an amazing review of Asheville, NC or Chattanooga, TN is not because they aren't cool places, but rather I didn't spend enough time there to properly absorb all that there is to do.

Here is my honest review of ASHEVILLE, NC: The visitor's center is nice and offers free internet. The lady at the hotel had a really thick accent. Tuesday night is not hopping in town. Their main square has a statue of two bronzed pigs. They are surprisingly comfortable to straddle. The Biltmore Estate, the largest home in the U.S., is in Asheville (175,000 square feet). Asheville is reportedly the Berkeley, CA of the South. Or the Burlington, VT of the South. Which is a round about way of saying people smoke a lot pot there. The hotel breakfast restaurant was showing "Montel" on the big screen tv. What was scary was that all the patrons were glued to the tube like a 15 year old boy's maiden viewing of VHS porn. Overall Grade: I love Asheville.

Review of CHATTANOOGA, TN: Did you know Chattanooga was NOT on the Chattahoochee river?? Furthermore, do you know what a Hoochie Coochie is? and if so, how hot one is? Chattanooga is really quite a cool city. They have a dope river front park, a brand new Aquarium, a Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. They also are home to the Chattanooga Lookouts, a minor league baseball team. (I only know this because I used to have one of their goofy looking team hats when I was going through puberty. (an awkward period all around).

Overall Grade: B++

In actuality, both of these places (like most places and things in the south) were very cool, and I wish I had more time to check them out. Especially the Montel Williams show on "Extreme Baby Making".

Floam, East Coast Road Tripping and Couch Surfing

2007-01-04T22:06:00.000-05:00

I got Floam for Christmas (during a Yankee Swap). I wrote a blog a while back about toys from our childhood and several comments followed highlighting the dumb toys from our younger years, and we inexplicably omitted one of the dumbest of the dumb: Floam. It is a micro beaded play-doh goo, that smells like coagulated chicken poop, and provides absolutely no enjoyment.

Anyway, after a great Christmas in Maine, I embarked on a journey. I am in the midst of a road trip from Scarborough, Maine to Atlanta, Georgia, with stops in Boston, NYC, Washington, DC and multiple hick towns between DC and Atlanta. (because those are all that exist south of DC, right?)

I have been on many road trips before, but what is especially troubling about this one is the frequency of alcohol consumption on my trip. I am learning that when you move away and then come home to visit friends, benders ensue.

Notes from the trip thus far (more elaborate posts to come):

Boston was great. Went to a bar called the Poor House and sat in the back corner of the basement portion of the bar. (I am certainly on the up and up). I slept on a couch.

NYC was a blast. I don't really remember what happened, but I do know that when I woke up, I was on a couch.

DC was an unmitigated shit show. I ate a slice of pizza the size of a pennant flag, and then went out for New Years. I slept on a sofa.

Funny story about new years (at least to me). My buddy, Mal, normally likes to lay the ground work for midnight and have a fail proof make out plan when the clock strikes midnight, so he scouts out several girls and advises them to come find him at midnight. Well, this plan backfired slightly, as one of those girls went found him and started making out with him, and when he looked up, two of the other prospective girls were standing right behind him, giving him the death stare. Pure hilarity. kinda.

The next night was in Richmond, Virgina. I slept on a love seat. My neck hurts.

The Bean Report

2006-12-26T17:59:00.001-05:00

In the little town of Freeport, Maine, you will find a bumbleclot** of retail stores and relatively low-strung shoppers (most people are on vacation). However, amidst the Fruit Republics, Gaps in the Patagonian Northfaces, and the browsers in the "Mangy Moose" lies a behemoth of a store, that quite frankly, is the bomb.

I am talking about L.L. Bean.

I hate shopping with the passion and fervor of an adolescent bull with a slip knot tied around its nuts, but for some reason, I get kind of excited to visit the L.L. Bean Store.

Maybe it's because they have a giant and entirely useless boot outside its main entrance, maybe it is the fully stocked trout pond in the middle of the store, or perhaps its the massively friendly and helpful staff who really ARE happy to be working. More than likely, it's because they have great stuff and a generous return policy.

L.L. Bean's builds customers for life, and are the epitome of high quality (In fact, if you bought a backpack in 1985 and the zipper malfunctions, they will replace the zipper or the entire bag for free. Some people take advantage of this for sure, but they suck and should be stepped on by someone wearing a boot comparable in size to the one outside the front door. eg. Paul Bunion or a Wild Thing).

L.L. Bean is active in the community. They hold concerts (with music mostly for old people), they bring in rock climbing walls to the store, offer fly fishing lessons, kayaking trips, gun safety classes, etc.

They're basically that really athletic, fun and charismatic person in high school who gets the smartest, hottest, moderately chested girl and they settle down together and have 3 amazingly beautiful children who are often candidly photographed in meadows wearing adorable outfits and not only that, but they are very financially comfortable and never talk about their money. and you know what, they deserve it.

It is truly a model retail store. Now, if only bars and pubs had such useful return policies..

**Doesn't actually work in this sentence since bumbleclot is Jamaican for fuck; damn, mothafucka........... (Urban Dictionary, 2005) Used in a sentence: 'damn dat boy ....... he played me , Bumbleclot!!'

What do hangovers and delayed/cancelled flights having in common? (Originally written 12/23)

2006-12-26T16:49:00.000-05:00

Not much.

But I hate both of them.

While I hate delays because they are inconvenient, there is nothing you can do, so you might as well just sit back and people watch. Interestingly, the people you watch dealing with the same delay often freak out, yell at airline workers and generally get their panties in a bunch. It is quite entertaining really. But seriously, airports bring out the worst in people. So here's my recommendation: If you have a significant other and you're really trying to decide if he or she's the one, book a flight to Denver for tomorrow, and see if they keep their cool. If they do, propose. If not, dump 'em**.

And I don't like hangovers because I feel (and am) utterly useless for about 8-10 hours. (12/22/06 provides proof)

**(general warning: don't take relationship advice from spoole)

Whatever happened to the...

2006-12-20T11:42:00.000-05:00

Pogo ball?

Somewhere in between pogo sticks and moon shoes, there was a brief period in time where pogo balls were the personal elevation-related toy of choice.

If my memory serves me correctly, the Pogo ball was a short lived fad. It had its heyday between approximately 1987 and 1989. I remember those glory days distinctly, as I was an enthusiastic participant in the Pogo ball revolution. In first grade recess, literally hundreds of kids (myself extremely included) would be bouncing on their pogo balls, doing nothing of note. There were no games that went a long with pogo balls. It wasn't like you were playing basketball while pogo balling, playing truth or dare while pogo balling or trying to navigate unruly terrain while pogo balling..

Aside from maybe completing a challenging hopscotch diagram, you just bounced for an extended period of time. And then the bell rung indicating the end of recess and you probably high fived a buddy, saying something like "sick p.g.b'ing session.. you got really high. (8 inches).. I can't wait for snack time" or "Great bouncing.. I like your style. If you continue to focus on your skills, I firmly believe you can go somewhere with it".

Only the really daring (future base jumpers, astronauts and people who substitute office chairs with fitness balls at work) tried to pogo ball stairs. This is because they would soon find out that the pogo ball platform had a greater diameter than the standard stair depth, and thusly, you would fall. Typically hard. (The girl pictured to blog bottom knows what I'm talking about).

Anyway, I write this not in hopes of bringing back the pogo ball (as we are all mightily aware that it was a dumb toy to begin with) but rather in wonderment and jealously as to how great it was to be a kid and to be able to occupy/engross yourself for hours on end with something as simple as bouncing on a Saturn-like apparatus. The possibilities were endless.

If I could do anything, I would do it all again. (Most especially the pogo ball era. Not so much the moon shoes era)