Thursday, March 31, 2005

A letter to QVC

Have you seen this commercial for QVC where some dumb whore screams at the top of her lungs, "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Have nothing to wear!"? Well, if you haven't you are in luck. The effect of this commercial is maddening. What follows is a transcript of an email I sent QVC. And yes, I asked for them to respond. If I get a response and its good, I'll post it.

Dear QVC,

Please, if you have any regard for humanity, stop airing that commercial where the woman screams at the top of her lungs that she has nothing to wear. Every time I hear this commercial come on tv, it makes me want to puncture my eardrums with a dull, rusty spoon that has just been dipped in hot sauce and spat on by a homeless crack addict.

Seriously, this commercial must be stopped. How would you like it if every 10 minutes or so, I randomly showed up next to you and screamed in your ear for about 5 seconds? Doesn't sound fun, does it? That is what is happeneing here with your commercial.

Now I'm sure that as a customer service representative, you probably don't have the power to get that piece of crap off the air, but maybe you could pass my sentiments along to management so that I don't need to hear that bitch scream anymore.

Yours in Christ,

Catheter Man

2005: Year of the Catheter?

I have been participating in fantasy sports, Superbowl, and NCAA pools since high school. For all of my sports knowledge and prediction abilities, I have never really had much success (save for winning a few non-money fantasy baseball leagues and finishing second in football twice). This year could be different.

It started out, as most years do, with the annual Superbowl boxes game. Usually, I spend anywhere from 10-25 dollars just to make the game more exciting (since the Redskins will not be in the Superbowl until the uncapped year in '07). I always expect that I am just throwing my money away because this game is based purely on luck (of which I have very little). Well, this year I actually won one of the quarters and recouped my $15 dollar investment. It wasn't a huge win, but at least I got my money back (I also ate my weight in crab dip, pigs in a blanket, and fried chicken, but thats neither here nor there).

I am also in a random no money NBA head to head fantasy league on Yahoo. I finished the regular season in first place and have the number one seed (and a bye) going into the playoffs. I'm feeling pretty good about my chances in that league, especially if Tim Duncan and Antawn Jamison come back from their injuries in the next week or so. By the way, Primoz Brezec and Joel Pryzbilla are blowing up right now!

Next is the NCAA Tournament Pool. Normally, I finish 1 spot out of the money every year. But despite what I may have thought before, the scenario generator says that I have a chance to be in the money if any team wins besides Illinois. If UNC beats Illinois in the Finals I could finish as high as second place. If I can get 2nd place in this, it would be huge. I'm not sure how much I would win, but it would be at least the $15 I put into it.

So is this it? Is 2005 the year of the Catheter? Only time will tell. I have a non-money fantasy baseball team that I am pretty happy with. I have 2 football leagues I usually do (with awful luck). We shall see if the roll continues throughout the whole year.

Of course, by talking about the current status of my NBA and NCAA things, I'm sure I just jinxed myself and will spend the rest of the year cursing myself for picking Syracuse in the Final Four instead of Michigan State (my second choice in that bracket).

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Ramblings

Here are some things I've been thinking about lately:

--Don't you hate people who preface every statement with: "I was just going to say..." and then continue with their thought? Were you just going to say it or are you saying it right now? Just skip the preface and give us whatever nonsense it is you were thinking. You are just talking to get class participation points anyway. Douchebag.

--Whats up with all these spam e-mails I get with titles like "Christian Debt Relief" and "Christian Singles in your area"? First of all, I'm not Christian. Second, even if I was, I'd be kind of offended that these morons are trying to use religion to be successful spammers.

--Rolly bags are the devil's spawn. For those of you who aren't in law school, rolly (rhymes with holy) bags are just like those suitcases with wheels and a handle, only slightly (and I stress slightly) smaller. These can be seen trailing 3 feet behind fat girls, clogging up elevators, and hitting people in the legs. Hey lazy, maybe you could use the extra exercise of carrying your books. Nothing makes me happier than seeing a fat girl try to carry a rolly bag up a flight of stairs.

--Rev. Jerry Falwell is supposedly in critical condition right now. I think this is an appropriate time to remember the man for his greatest accomplishment: losing his virginity to his mother in an outhouse. [A spoof ad claiming just that was the subject of his lawsuit against Larry Flynt, which Falwell deservedly lost].

--As long as we're making fun of the infirm, we might as well go ahead and take shots at the deceased. Johnnie Cochran just died. They are saying he had some brain disorder (like one that would make him believe OJ was innocent?). I think he was killed by some random person and the brain disorder was set up via a huge conspiracy in the racist LA police department.

--I think the best part about cable shows about food are their willingness to employ hosts from cheesy early 90's game shows. With Marc Summers from Double Dare and Mark DeCarlo from Studs already in the stable, it can't be too long before Nitro from American Gladiators gets his own show to talk about the wonders of pork or something.

--Whoever decided that work/school should start at 9 am is an asshole. Whoever decided that Americans can't have a Siesta in the middle of the day is a bigger asshole. Whoever decided that graduation from law school requires an "upper level writing requirement" is the biggest asshole.

--I don't think I have taken a dump in at least 5 days, even with a few bacon, egg, and cheeses, Julia's Empanadas, and Chipotle thrown in the mix. I think something is seriously wrong with my digestive system.

--Bubba Ho Tep is the strangest big studio movie I have ever seen. It took me about 40 minutes to figure out what the hell was going on.

--What's up with these people who call things "double-edge swords"? Aren't all swords double-edged? Isn't a single-edged sword called a knife or a sickle or something?

--I think Netflix should not only rent porn, but also video games. They are missing out on a ton of money.

--American Idol just did their 90's theme show. I'm pretty sure I was in my music heyday in the 90's, yet I only recognized about 4 of the 10 songs the contestants picked. What up wit dat?

--I'm thinking Friday is a good date to officially "drop" the blog. Why the short notice? Because I don't want the internet downloaders to get hold of it and screw up the opening weekend numbers.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Camp, Part Deux

When I read that last Camp post, I decided that a few more things need to be added to my favorite memories of sleep away camp and a few things need to be explained. Here goes...Camp, Part Deux

Roller Hockey. Sleep away camp is where I first developed my love of roller hockey. When I first started at the upper camp, rollerblades had just come out and since I wasn't too into skating, I didn't have any. Nor did I really want them. This changed as soon as I witnessed my first roller hockey game at camp. A good number of guys at camp actually played ice hockey in the winter, so roller hockey was taken pretty seriously. We had real boards around our basketball court so that it was like a real hockey rink. The only difference was that our rink was square so you couldn't "push it around the dashers," as Craig Laughlin would say. There were also usually two or three really good goalies also (they did not have to wear skates to make the scores more realistic). Anyway, my second year at camp, you better believe I had rollerblades. From then on, I loved roller hockey. Also, since I had like the second rollerblades ever made and I have what doctors call "wide feet," I would usually need to take off my left skate at least a few times during each game. Afterward, I could barely walk. All for the love of the game.

Riflery. Jews and guns don't mix, you say? Nonsense! At camp, we had rifelry. Somehow, they allowed us to shoot real .22 caliber rifles. I know a .22 is pretty wimpy, but still. It was a real gun! I was pretty damn good at riflery. I even shot the little plastic thingy that holds the bullets at about 25 yards away (or whatever the distance was). The best thing to do in riflery was to fill up a soda can with water all the way to the top and then shoot it. When you hit it, the pressure would blow a huge hole out of the back of the can. Good times. The funny thing was that they actually made me teach riflery one summer. Come to think of it, they also made me teach archery (which I was terrible at). I guess they thought I was either really responsible or really violent.

Living in Tents. I mentioned in the first post that we used to live in tents. Well, this was the way it went. In the lower camp, we lived in cabins. In your first year in the upper camp (age 13), you lived in "dorms" and were called "dormies." These consisted of what looked like college dorm rooms, but with 2 bunk beds in each one. There were only 8 dorm rooms and 4 were for counselors my year.

The next year, you would start living in tents. This was much cooler than it sounds. The floor of the tent was a wood platform about 10 feet by 10 feet, raised off the ground by cinder blocks so that it wouldn't flood. Then there were posts about 10 feet tall in the front and back of the tent to keep it raised. The back post had a light and electrical outlets. The tent was made of a really thick material, that I can't really even describe, but there was a tent cover to protect against rain. So, these were not your typical tents. Normally, two people would share a tent and there was plently of room for a bed, cubby, fan, trunk, boom box, and whatever else you would want to bring.

Then, there were the "Super" tents. These were the same setup, but much bigger. Super A and Super B held 4 or 5 kids each and the Super Duper held up to 9. Normally, in your junior year, one group would get Super A and the rest would be in normal tents. Senior year, one group would get Super B and the rest would be in regular tents. CIT year, everyone would be in the Super Duper. Due to a lack of attendance my senior year, I was in the Super Duper and stayed there for my CIT year. I think I hold the record for most consecutive sessions spent in the Duper at 3.

Services. Seeing as this was a "jewish" camp, we were supposed to have some sort of services on saturday morning. I'm not sure if there were ever serious services, but by the time I was in camp, it had devolved into people reading out of Shel Silverstein poetry books and singing songs. The songs were typical camp songs and to this day, I have no idea why we sang them at services. They included such classics as: "Leaving on a Jet Plane," "Fire and Rain," "Cats in the Cradle," and "Country Roads." The only jewish part of the whole thing was that we would start off services with the song "Bim Bam."

Sing Out Timber Ridge. TR stands for the name of the group of camps I went to and has been withheld to protect its (my) identity.[I was going to do that, but since I later need to use the name in lyrics, I'll divulge it] Anyway, Sing Out TR was a yearly tradition where you would get together with all the kids in your age group and compete in a group sing off about how great camp is. The counselors would write lyrics about camp to popular songs and then we'd practice a lot (I used to hate this shit) in order to compete with the other camps. As much as I hated it, I still remember some of the songs from when I was young. Examples:

From when I was 10: (Sung to the Miami Dolphins song)
"We are the Timber Ridge campers, Timber Ridge campers, Timber Ridge campers number one.
We are the Timber Ridge campers, Timber Ridge campers, Timber Ridge campers, we have fun.
From east to west and north to south, we come from coast to coast... back to West Virginia to the friends we love the most...
(Chorus)"

From when I was 11: (Sung to The Rose, by Bette Midler)
"Some say camp, it is a trial, with many ups and downs
Some say camp, it is a burden that will drive you to the ground
Some say camp, it is a struggle, with no family around
Timber Ridge, it is a heaven, where friendships do abound."

From when I was 12: (Sung to Faithfully, by Journey)
"Summer camp, a place where friendships are born, three camps reunite to form Timber Ridge.
New faces come and they are joined with the old (I don't remember this part, so on to the chorus!)
They say Timber Ridge is a great place to make a friend
We create memories that will last till the very end
The love and the friendships made are what all camps 'sposed to be
Oh, can we stay forever?
Its so hard to say goodbye....TIMBER RIDGE"

Anyway, as you can tell, they loved to talk about friendship in these songs and as much as I hated practicing them, they still are stuck in my head.

Rainy Day Activities. Some of you may be saying, "Camp is fun when its sunny, but what about when it rains?" You're right, we did have some kick-ass thunderstorms in WVa, but not that many a year. When it rained, we usually played Bombardment in the gym (basically dodgeball) and/or watched movies. Camp was where I first developed my love of the movie Major League. I think it was an unspoken rule that the first rainstorm of the year meant that there was a mandatory showing of Major League. It basically got to the point where I could recite that whole movie without even seeing it. I remember also seeing Point Break one time. Its pretty funny that somoene owned that movie.

Late Night Eats. You weren't supposed to have food in your tent, but everyone had some sort of stash hidden away. Usually this was candy, gum, chips, and the best camp food ever: Ramen Noodles. Camp was the place where I honed and perfected my technique for cooking Ramen Noodles. I always brought a hot pot, which for those who dont know, is a pitcher that plugs into a socket and heats up whatever is inside it. The best way to cook ramen is fill it up, let the water get all hot, dump 1 or 2 packages of noodles in there and let them cook. When they are done, pour out most of the excess water and then (and only then) put the flavor packets in. Voila! A perfect late night meal.

Another great thing about living in tents was that if you had to take a piss, there was no need to walk all the way to the bathrooms (a truly stank-ass facility that housed shitters, a urinal trough, and a communal shower room). Pissing out the back of a tent, though frowned upon, was a time-honored tradition at camp.

British Counselors. Normally, there was a group of about 4-8 Brits who would be counselors at camp. They were always one-year counselors who wanted to come to the US for a summer to experience camp and then see the rest of the country. The tragic thing was that they would all arrive at camp thinking they were going to be counselors and two would always get stuck being the kitchen helper and the cleaner, respectively. The first day of counselor training, the director would always make the same joke about the brits turning red if they didn't use sunblock.

One year, we had a lot of british counselore. I guess there were enough to field a soccer team because we played Brits v. US in soccer. I don't remember who won the game, but I do remember one of the campers bringing his boom box to the field and playing Neil Diamond's "Coming to America" before the game to pump everyone up.

The Infirmary. Perhaps my proudest accomplishment in life is that I never went to the infirmary in 8 years of being a camper and a counselor. Sure, everyone had to do the lice check at the beginning (and end) of the summer, but I never went for any other reason. The only cool part about the infirmary was that it was air conditioned and it had a tv/vcr to watch movies on.

The only two things of note that happened at the infirmary that I remember were that one of my friends snuck in there to see a chick he was hooking up with and she gave him a hand job and secondly, the token crazy kid, Allan, went nuts in there one night and threw a chair at someone. He was sent home soon after that.

Boy's Leagues. Finally, we get to my favorite thing about camp. I mentioned it in the earlier post, but I don't think I gave it its proper explanation. Boy's Leagues was a competition in which the whole boy's side of camp was drafted and put on teams to compete in various sports. The way the draft went was that the counselors determined a draft order for the CITs to pick their teams (they were captains). The worst athlete got the first pick and the best athlete got the last pick and the draft would snake. They would choose from the seniors, juniors, and dormies for about 6 or 8 rounds and the rest of the campers would just get allocated to teams. After (or during) the draft, CITs could trade. Rumor had it that one guy got traded for another guy, plus a can of coke.

Once the teams were decided, they wold compete in 2 sports every other day (M,W,F as I recall). The sport combinations were Softball and Water Polo, Basketball and Hockey, and Football and Soccer. Wins and losses were tallied and a standings board was kept on the wall of the dining hall. At the end of the season, there would be a tournament and the first place team would play the last place team and so on. The winner of the tournament would get bragging rights and a trip to Tastee-Freez.

Incidentally, there were also Girl's Leagues. But they only played one sport each time and there was guaranteed to be at least one athsma attack in each game.

Monday, March 28, 2005


My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord... and its name is the Burger King Enormous Omelete Sandwich (or NAMBLA, for short). Posted by Hello

Law School is the worst

I'm sitting here at 3:58, waiting to go to a meeting with my Real Estate group from 4-6, which we really don't need to have today (especially since I really have not done anything since we last met). Law students are so anal, its awful. I'm going to be a little late to this meeting, just to see what they say.

After doing that last Camp post, I realized that I left a lot out of it and I will be working on part deux for later this week. I never realized how much material there was there and I think its pretty original stuff for the blogosphere.

I also haven't officially launched this blog yet. After the second Camp post, I think I'll have enough stuff to hook some readers.

Just got caught by one of my group members (its 4:02). Unbelievable. Gotta go listen to some idiots that love to hear themselves talk.

Camp

Summer Camp was a great time in my life. I went to two different ones of note. The first, chronologically, was TIC Computer Camp in DC. Yes, I went to computer camp. But this was back in the day before computer camp was that nerdy. Or maybe not. Either way, it was only computers for half of the day and sports for the other half. Since I am sitting in law school right now and not a dot com millionaire, I'll let you guess which half of the day I was better at.

TIC was where I began my lifelong love/hate relationship with the Apple company. I'm not sure why we decided that programming on Apples was the way to go, but that's what I ended up doing for something like 8 summers in a row. I learned Logo (the easiest language to program in (maybe)) and then Basic (which, as I remember was pretty easy as well). Then, after about my 4th year, I just stopped progressing with the computer languages and stuck with Basic. I don't remember why, but it probably had something to do with my clinical laziness.

On to sports at computer camp. When I look back on the people who went to this camp, I get pretty pissed off that I did not win more sports awards. This probably had to do more with my low profile than my athletic prowess, as some of these kids were borderline physically retarded. In all the years I went to this camp, the only awards I ever got were the sportsmanship award and the award for best softball player (my last year there). I think I may have won just as many awards for my computer programming (which I spent as little time on as possible). Oh well, at least I got to make fun of a bunch of nerds for the first half of the summer every year.

That brings me to the second half of the summer. I went to sleep-away camp in West Virginia. At this camp, which was mostly for coed jewish kids from MD, PA, FL, NJ, and other assorted places, we spent the whole day playing various sports and the nights doing some sort of "evening activity." These ranged from MTV Night, the grudge match, the bunkmate game (based on the newlywed game), socials (which were just dances), amongst others that I can't remember now. Its funny that this camp was in West Virginia, not only for the obligatory West Virginia jokes, but also because as I look back, it really was almost heaven. That John Denver was not full of shit. Sleep away camp and college were probably as close to heaven as I have gotten in my life (is it a coincidence that I was away from my parents for both?). What follows is a list of my favorite things about camp.

One great night was Cabin Night. Every Wednesday, your cabin, along with a corresponding girls cabin, would grill hamburgers and hot dogs and then make smores in some outdoor location. The lake was always a good one. Essentially, this was an opportunity to hang out with the girls your age while giving the cooks the night off. I don't really remember anything great happening during cabin nights, but anytime I get to hang out with girls and grill hamburgers, its always a good time.


The Friendship Fire. The first night of camp, we would all go down to the lake after dinner and have a friendship fire. Every tent group (we lived in tents [they were better than they sound]) would have some skit prepared about friendship. Normally, these were pretty stupid. The best one ever was by the kids who were a year younger than me. They had the nerdiest kid in their group dress up even nerdier and wear Rec-Specs (by the way, weren't Rec-Specs awesome?) and do the "I am a nerd" speech from the end of Revenge of the Nerds. Genius.

After the skits, people would tell ghost stories or something, always started by the camp director telling "The Brown Hand." It was some story about his uncle having a brown hand in his laBORatory (as Jerry would say) and some ghost of an indian wanted it back. Once the director left, counselors would tell their ghost stories and then we'd go back up to camp.

Sports. Anyway, at this camp, most of the kids were better at sports than the TIC kids (most even played on some high school team), which is not saying much, but ironically, this camp is where I blossomed into the mediocre at every sport athlete that I am today. In the 4 years at the upper-level camp I won a ton of awards, including:
2-time boys leagues champion,
Sunday Night Football champion,
winner of the dunk contest (8 foot rims),
all-Sunday Night Football first team,
all-boys leagues first team,
#1 pick in the boys leagues draft,
#1 pick in the Sunday Night Football draft
2nd to last to pick as a captain of boys leagues team (based on reverse order of athleticism),
#1 and #3 most goals in a water polo game (21 and 19 respectively),
gold feather in ultimate frisbee,
usual member of various camp all star teams (to play other camps) including basketball, softball, soccer, and hockey,
probably the most points in a Boys leagues basketball (championship) game (43),
Jedi Knighthood (seeing if you're paying attention),
and induction into the athletic hall of fame.
I'm not saying I was the best athlete in any one sport that the camp has ever seen, but if they held a vote for best all-around athlete, I'd be at or near the top of the list (in my own mind at least).

Girls. Sleep away camp was also a great place for the girls. When you are forced to spend time with people for four weeks, they tend to make relationships (or whatever they should be called when you are young) progress faster. This meant that my normal strategy of sitting back and waiting for girls to show some sort of interest in me actually worked at camp because if they didn't act fast, summer would be over. Of course, it was always a crap shoot as to whether there would be any hot girls at camp from year to year, but rarely was I disappointed. Needless to say, I always did a lot better for myself at camp than at school (and the girls were better looking, too.)

Random West Virginia (and Virginia) trips. This would usually consist of Trout Pond, Capon Lake, the Tastee-Freez, the Winchester Royals game, and Apple Blossom Mall. Trout Pond and Capon Lake were all-camp trips where we would go swimming and cook out at these places. Tastee-Freez was a knock-off Dairy Queen and was the special reward when you won a Boy's leagues or Sunday Night Football championship. When I went first session, we'd go to the Winchester Royals game (a college summer baseball league) for the 4th of July. Finally, the Apple Blossom Mall was another all-camp trip, where we got to go to a mall and was incidentally where I got my ear pierced for the first time.

Ocean City. When you were a CIT, you got to go to Ocean City for a few days. Despite being like 12 hours away (probably like 8, but still), this was the best trip ever and a great tradition. I actually got to go to OC 2 years in a row because I was the counselor for the CITs the year after I was a CIT. Due to a last minute bout of craziness by the guy counselor who was supposed to go, Catheter Man got the call. The second year was probably more fun than the first, probably due, in no small part, to the fact that the other guy counselor with us turned one of the bathtubs into a beer cooler.

Arthur, Dog, and meal-time games. These were our cooks at camp. Arthur was an obese black guy with coke-bottle glasses and Dog was a scruffy looking, weathered redneck with a crazy limp. Counselors would always make up stories about how Dog got the limp (and his nickname). My favorite story was that when the camp owner came to buy the land, Dog was living there and he would not leave, so they sicced a dog on him and it gnarled his leg. The director felt bad, so he gave him a job as a cook.

Anyway, the food was typical camp food, meaning that it was perfect for a teenage boy. Plus, it was all you can eat every meal. I think I ate 7 grilled cheeses at lunch one time. Even with my daily gluttony, I would still lose weight at camp because I was exercising all day.

Another fun thing about meal time at camp was the way in which counselors would decide who cleaned the table and refilled the pitchers. Announcements were usually made before the meal started and the order in which people went to get food was rotated through the groups (with the administrators/nurse/doctor always going first). So, since we could leave the meal as soon as we finished, someone had to be designated as the table cleaner for the meal. The most typical way this was done was by playing "Freeze." In this game, at some point in the meal, the counselor would call freeze and all of the campers had to stop in whatever pose they were in and not move, hence the name of the game. Whoever moved first had to clean. Usually, counselors would try and get it so that someone was pouring a drink or getting up from the table with one leg in the air or some comparable uncomfortable pose. Even if nobody was posed strangely, they could always make you do something, like hold a full pitcher over your head or something like that. One of my favorites was when a counselor spread mustard under one guy's nose, causing him to dry heave and lose the game.

The other game that made meal time fun was refilling the pitchers. We typically had a pitcher of water and another pitcher of "bug juice" at the table for everyone to use. There were a variety of methods to see who would refill them when they were finished, but two stick out in my mind. One was the old finger to the side of the nose game, where the last person to realize that everyone else was doing this would refill. The other was whoever killed it fills it. The great twist about this game was that even if you were the person to kill the pitcher, if the liquid did not get all the way to the line on the cup (near the rim), the person who filled their cup before you had to refill it. Needless to say, I became an expert on judging how much I should fill up my cup if the pitcher was getting low.

Colorwar. I never really gave a crap about colorwar, but its worth mentioning. This was where the whole camp was divided into two teams and you would compete in various areas. This included sports, silent meals (where you would get points taken off if anyone spoke), the apache relay (the only enjoyable colorwar event), and a song. The counselors would always try and "break" colorwar in some new and unusual way, but again, I couldn't have cared less.

KD For those of you who didn't go to camp (or at least my camp, KD stands for Kings Dominion. This is an amusement park in Virginia where they had some of the best roller coasters on the east coast. The Shock Wave, the Grizzly, the Rebel Yell, the Anaconda, the Hurler, and even the Scooby Doo were great in their heyday. What happened on KD (as it was known around camp was: everyone woke up at the buttcrack of dawn and boarded these charter busses. We drove from High View, WVA to wherever KD is ( for directions) and this took about 4 hours (from what I can remember). This included a pit stop for lunch at some random rest area (where nobody would really eat lunch because would you rather have a soggy sandwich or hot pizza at the park?).

Once we finally got to the park, it was like a free for all. I think every group had to have a counselor, so this usually meant that you would be with your group of friends and your favorite counselor... pretty sweet). Then you would commence with the roller coasters and other puke-inducing rides, all the while not forgetting to load up on fried and sugary foods. Good times. Good times, indeed.

On a side note, by the time I was a CIT, I had collected a KD nametag (Max) and could put together what looked like a reasonably accurate KD uniform. This was a blue hat, cream-colored polo shirt, nametag, and blue shorts. I took a couple of kids through the lines, pretending one of them was a Make-A-Wish foundation kid so that we would not have to wait to go on rides. One of the people who worked there got pissed at me for some reason and asked where I worked and I told him at the Sno-Cone stand (even though they didn't sell Sno-Cones there). After we got out of there, I decided it wasn't a good idea to impersonate park employees anymore.

Initiation. Initiation was pretty damn cool. I think it was always the second to last night of camp. All the guys would wear a towel as pants and get all painted up like Indians (feathers, not dots). People would be stationed at various points on the road from the cabins to the initiation site (in the woods behind the upper soccer field). We would have giant cans with flaming rolls of toilet paper in them to light the way. When initiation began, all the first year campers were led up this road in the night to the initiation site. For intimidation purposes, we would shout, "SILENCE!" at those who were talking.

At the initiation site, the camp director was there in a full headdress. He told some indian story and a huge bonfire was lit via a flaming arrow (strung up to make sure it went into and lit the fire). Then there was some story about a snake and some of the already initiated would do a snake dance. Then the director's son would do the flaming hoop dance. After that, there was a story about the indian prince and princess. I don't really remember any of it, but at some point, the princess would scream and run into the woods. Then the prince would run after her, grab an effigy, and throw her into the bonfire. I remember it was a huge honor to be the prince, and got to be the prince when I was a CIT. I also managed to throw the princess into the bonfire on the first try, no small feat.

After all of this, the initiates would walk around some path and get a cup of unsweetened iced tea and get their face painted. They were thus initiated. There was some sentence that the director would always use to end the ceremony. Once everyone heard that last word, all the guys would rip off their towels and streak all the way to the pool and jump in. This part was obviously not sanctioned by the camp, but they never really tried to prevent it.

Banquet. The Banquet was the last night of camp. We would all get "dressed up," which really meant khakis and a polo shirt or something like that and have a "nice dinner." People would take pictures of everyone before this dinner because 1) we were all clean-looking and 2) this was the last time you would have a chance to take a picture with anyone. We'd also get to have Mickey Mouse ice cream pops for dessert. This was also the time when the gold feathers, plaques, and athletic hall of fame inductees were presented.

Gold Feathers were for the best person at any given activity. If you were the best at archery, you would get a gold feather. Best at arts and crafts --- gold feather. For some reason, there was only a general "athletics" gold feather instead of individual sports. Ironically, despite my many athletic achievements at camp (and self-professed mediocrity at everything), my only gold feather in 7 years of being a camper was my CIT year... in ultimate frisbee. And I only got it because I was good friends with the counselor who taught it and he couldn't believe I had never gotten a gold feather in anything. Plus, I was a pretty damn mediocre ultimate frisbee player.

Plaques were slabs of wood about the size of a laptop screen that each tent group painted to represent their group. You would have some sort of theme and each camper and counselor's name on the plaque along with a nickname usually. I don't really remember any of our plaques. All the plaques are hung up on the rafters in the dining hall, so you can see everyone who has gone to the camp since it opened.

The Athletic Hall of fame is just what it sounds like. You can get in any year, but most people don't make it at all. Rumor had it that I was close to making it my junior year (it went: Dormie, Junior, Senior, CIT) until I screwed up the half-field soccer shots during the apache relay. I was inducted my Senior year. Usually about 2 or 3 people a year got in.

After banquet, we'd all go out to the baseball field and they would light the year on fire (i.e., '94), spelled out in maxi pads doused in gasoline on a chain link lacrosse goal. I couldn't make that one up. We would all stand around in a circle and sing some camp songs and everyone would be sad to leave the next day.

Camp Mix Tapes. By the end of the summer, there would always be certain songs that you heard all throughout camp, either on the radio (Froggy 99.3 and WINC fm 92.5) or at the socials. All these songs would invariably get put onto your Camp Mix Tape. These were always great mixes and to this day, when I hear a song that was on one of the Camp Mixes, I always think about camp.

Well, those are all the camp memories I can list for now. If you have some, feel free to post them in the Comments section.

everywhere we go-o, people wanna know-o... who we a-are, so we tell them...

Sunday, March 27, 2005

No post today

Sorry, I have a couple of things in the hopper. Stay tuned for a doozy or two later in the week.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Hot Nuts

Tonight, we went to Georgetown, which is pretty momentous because its probably been at least 6 months since I have been there. First, we went to Garrett's. This bar is usually pretty cool and seeing as my buddy got propositioned for a menage there, its always worth a try. When we got there, it was pretty empty. I chalked that up to the tournament being on as well as Easter weekend. See, Easter is this holiday where people actually believe that this guy died and then came back to life or something. Pretty wild, right?

Anyway, after Garrett's, we went to The Guards, which was crowded and annoying. But the UNC-Villanova game was on, so we watched there until it was over. Unlike Garrett's, the Guards was known as the bar where my buddy got his jacket stolen (and where my other friend's woman acted like a bitch). Once UNC won (which saved my bracket from being completely useless), we headed to Lucky Bar. There are two main advantages to Lucky Bar: 1) there is a Citibank near it and 2) there is a Julia's Empanadas next to it.

We got in a cab in Georgetown and it looked a little crowded. There was some sort of mass spanning from the back of the cab to the front. I thought, "those look like golf clubs, but what would a cabbie need golf clubs in his car for?" Needless to say, this guy had golf clubs in his cab. Before we could ask about the clubs, we noticed something else in the front seat. This guy had a freaking DOG in his cab. Apparently, the dog's name was Buddy Lee Buds and he rode in the cab every night. This is the best cab I have ever been in!

So we get to Lucky Bar and its immediately apparent that it is crawling with fatties and uglies. We get drinks anyway to try and make the women look better. It doesn't work. Perhaps the best part about Lucky Bar is the vending machine they have at the back of the first floor. It despenses heated peanuts and some other mix of nuts. The funny thing is that it is labeled as "Hot Nuts." And they even give you little cups with which you are supposed to catch the hot nuts. I've always fantasized about giving a girl a hot nut in a bar, but this is not quite what I had envisioned.

I began looking at the clock and before I knew it, it was 1:30... prime empanada time. Julia's (a former fantasy team name of mine) is like a very tasty cup of Mexican water. Sure, it feels good going down, but you know you are going to pay for it in the morning. Regardless, I ordered the Jamaican Beef and the Turkey and Spring Onions empanadas for the ride home.

That brings us to right now. I'm already getting heartburn. I can only imagine what lies in store for me and my toilet tomorrow morning. May god have mercy on my soul.

Friday, March 25, 2005


I am trying to figure out how to post pictures to the blog and I thought this one would be an appropriate innaugural post. Posted by Hello

The wonders of the Open Bar

Last night, I had the option to go to the Taste of the Nation event. This is a showcase of local restaurants and other sponsors that is held to benefit "ending hunger." The pros for going were: it was located at a hotel around the corner from my apartment, it was free (for me), there was going to be free food, and of course free liquor and beer. Cons: 4 NCAA tournament games would be on tv that I would miss. Due to the power of free food and open bar, I was there at 6:30 for the VIP hour.

My girlfriend (who was on the committee that planned the event) signed me up as "media" in order to get the sought after orange bracelet that allowed me all access to the event. When I got in, I went straight for the roped-off VIP area to the open bar for a drink. They only had a few different kinds of liqour there (those that were sponsors), so after some deliberations, I decided this would be an Appleton Estates Rum and coke night.

After pounding my first drink, I got a second one for the road, as I was going to check out all the food booths. For those of you who have nver been to an event like this, imagine a giant conference room filled with tables featuring chefs from about 50 local restaurants you can't afford, as well as wine, beer, and liqour tables. They also had a silent auction, but nothing there was worth bidding on (that sentence sounds terible, but oh well).

Anyway, the food was an orgiastic feast for the senses. Well, at least taste and smell. I had small samples of duck quesadillas, salmon, tuna tartar, mini-burgers (you can never go wrong with mini burgers), duck dogs (I know, they finally made a hot dog out of duck!), chips and guacamole, and a few others I don't really remember. After all this eating, I needed another drink. So rather than go all the way back to the VIP area (and by "all the way back" I mean about 50 yards), I went to the Southern Comfort table, where they had all the same booze that the bar had, only with hot girls bartending.

After nearly sobbing because this reminded me of how ugly all the real bartenders in DC are, I asked one of the hotties for a rum and coke. She said that they had no mixers, but I could have rum on the rocks if I wanted. Despite never having heard of that particular drink before, I said sure and she poured me the aforementioned Appleton. At that point, I think she could have offered me a rum and cow's blood and I would have taken it.

I then met Marc Silverstein, who was emceeing the event (I hate when people spell out MC, but if I didn't then it would have looked like this: "MCing" and that just doesn't seem right). You may know him as the co-host of the Food Network show "The Best Of." The basic premise of the show is that the other host, Jill Cordes (who is smokin') gets to go to all these sweet places like Hawaii or Miami to try their local foods, while Marc (bless his heart) always winds up somewhere like Scranton, PA or Gary, IN. Marc seemed like a good guy and is one of the few tv personalities I have met that wasn't 6 inches shorter than I expected.

I wound up having 2 more rum and cokes from the hottie bar (since they got mixers at some point). These girls must have either liked me or hated me because they were probably the strongest rum and cokes I have ever had (and I consider myself a rum and coke expert). Exponentially emboldened with each sip, I decided to take these Jack Daniels temporary tattoos that they had on the table. I figured it would be pretty funny to go out one night with a bunch of people all having Jack Daniels tattoos. So I wound up taking about 50 of them.

By this time (about 9:30), we were getting ready to go to the afterparty. That's right, there was an after party (and then the hotel lobby). We went to some bar in DC near the Ritz Carlton. In order to get there, we had to pass the notorious LuLu's, which meant that I had to make fun of it for at least 5 minutes. So we get to this bar and --- it is open bar also! At least I think it was. I grabbed an Amstel light and finally got to watch some NCAA basketball. I can't believe West Virginia is in the elite 8!

After my second free(?) beer at the after party, I figured it was time to stop drinking and we left just in time to hear Salim Stoudamire kill Ok. State and my bracket on the radio. Once we got home I fell asleep (read: passed out) trying to think of ways for Ok. State to get back in the tournament somehow (and while they are at it bring Syracuse).

Normally, the story would end there, but there is a (lease) addendum. I had the strangest dreams last night. Maybe it was from the rum. Maybe it was from the raw fish. It could have even been from the duck hot dogs. Who knows, but at some point I was in an elevator with Charlize Theron, talking about the make-out scene in our upcoming movie.

The lesson: open bars lead to thinking you can not only casually talk to Charlize Theron in an elevator, but also that Jack Daniels tattoos are sweet.

That being said, who is up for going out covered in Jack Daniels tattoos tonight?

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking...

I'm on call in Federal Courts right now and there is only 20 minutes left. I'm hoping she doesn't call on me today. More later...

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Peanut Butter

What the fuck is wrong with all of these parents that they are giving kids deathly allergies to peanut butter? Back in the day, all I used to eat was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and now some asshole is going to not let me eat the kind of sandwich I like because they might die from it?

The answer isn't banning peanut butter from school lunch rooms. THe answer is banning these stupid fucks whose parents made them allegeric to peanut butter in the first place. Back in my day, if you had some sort of crazy allergy, that was a rarity. Now, like with mental problems and fat kids, its the norm. Everyone has an excuse these days. I heard that the reason why all these kids have peanut allergies is because their dumbass lazy parents gave them formula or soy milk or something too early in their childhoods. I'm supposed to suffer because your parents are assholes? I think not. Fuck you. Go eat your gay lunch in a different room, lest I spit goober and grape in your eye.

Which brings me to another point: no more peanuts on airplanes. This blows big fat donkey dick. Because of these same fucknuts who won't let my kids eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in school (by the time I have kids, I'm sure that will be outlawed), now I can't enjoy my little package of happiness on a plane anymore. Now those dickwad airlines give out pretzels instead. PRETZELS SUCK! Unless you are talking about soft pretzels, in which case they rule. But we're not, so those crappy pretzels can bite me. I think I'm just going to bring a cannister of peanuts on my next flight and sit there and eat them with a shit eating grin on my face while all the lower life forms who can't handle my god given right to enjoy legumes can choke on their own vomit and die for all I care.

God, peanuts rule!!!

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Good News!

The Gap has announced that it will no longer have Horseface Killa Norman Bates (Sara Jessica Parker) as their spokeshorse in their commercials anymore. As you may be able to tell, I hate the Gap and Horseface. The Gap is like the official uniform supply company of white people. Now, I'm white, but I am offended by people who shop at the Gap and LL Bean and Lands End and those type of places. And don't get me started on Old Navy. The only one of those stores I find acceptible is Banana Republic and even they are getting pretty bad.

I also hate Horseface with a passion because first of all --- she's ugly as shit. Sure, she's got a pretty good body for an 83 year old and more power to Ferris Beuller for hitting that (by the way, would it be much of a reach to say that he's gay?), but her face is absolutely hideous to the point of making me want to slap her mother. Secondly, every dumbass sheep-like girl loves this bitch and thinks Sex and the City was the best show to ever come along. That show sucked worse than Friends.

Which brings me to the Gap commercial starring horseface (who fancys herself as a broadway actress). Every time I heard that bitch singing about oats or something, I would immediately turn the tv off for about 30 seconds so that there would be no chance of seeing/hearing her whinnies and neighs. Apparently, my little protest must have gotten back to the Gap ad wizards and they canned the bitch.

Even though I hate the Gap and everything they stand for, I am proud of them and happy for them. They apparently got some british singer to be their new spokeswoman. I have never heard of her, but I'm sure the sound of her voice wont make me want to puncture my eardrums and will almost certainly allow me to leave the tv on during the commercials. Bravo, Gap, bravo!

Monday, March 21, 2005

Monday thoughts

So its 3:47 and I'm here at school in the midst of my 8(!) hour break in between classes. I'm pretty sure that when I applied to law school, I didn't know that the majority of my time would be spent getting better at internet poker. However, I'm still too much of a pussy to use real money, so instead of actually getting something out of the deal, I'm just wasting time.

During these breaks, I could be reading, studying, or looking for jobs, but I have tried all of those things before and they usually amount to "just wasting my time" so I might as well get some sort of enjoyment out of the deal. Needless to say, that enjoyment is usually eating or surfing the net. Incidentally, I have always wanted to learn to surf, but a couple of things have held me back: 1)I live on the east coast near no good surfing water and 2) for as mediocre at every sport as I am, watersports (ha!) have usually been a problem. I just don't possess the requisite upper body/core strength to support my fat ass.

Meanwhile, on the no-limit table, I'm currently the chip leader of the 1 table tournament.

I'm doing ok in my NCAA tourney pool. I just need UNC over Ill in the finals and Louisville to make the final four. Lookin' sharp! Normally, I finish 1 out of the money and have no doubt that this will be the situation again this year.

I ordered this PS2 game called Yourself Fitness and it will be sitting at the front desk today when I get home. I'm psyched. I will finally get the personal trainer that I so desperately need. I don't care if she is made of pixels, she's hot. Now I will actually be able to get some exercise while playing a video game at the same time. Sweet.

I haven't checked my two favorite celebrity blogs in a while. If you would like to know, they are Tom Green and Wil Wheaton. Both very entertaining. Though neither can hold a candle to Jason Milgrew.

I just lost all my chips in poker because I was bored. Later.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Diet Coke, Eggwiches, and poop

I think I may be addicted to Diet Coke. I know what you are thinking: "Three posts today? What up wit dat?" Well, I told you I am bored in class and in an effort to get my readership up, I am vowing to write more. This may actually allow me to become a better writer. Also, I am procrastinating from (about?) doing my real estate paper, which, if I turned in right now I might receive comments such as:
"Did you copy this out of the textbook?"
"Are you sure you are not retarded?"
"I have hated you since you were 5 years old, that's why you were banned from my house!"
So there's that.

Back to the Diet Coke. I have been into the diet coke for a few years now. Ever since I began my diet kick (e.g. when I actually learned how to control my food intake) sophomore year of college, I decided to not drink regular coke anymore. I remember hating diet coke when I drank regular, but now it seems fine. Anyway, back then I weighed a mean, obese 225, which would have been quite svelte if I was 7'2". Howver, since I'm 5'10 (I always say 5'11 because I like the way it sounds) I was a fat fuck with man boobs. So with the help of Synonymous' diet plan (one of the first people to use Atkins [this was in 1996]), I lost 50 lbs in about 2 months or so. I kicked my body's ass.

After I went to a wedding on President's Day, I decided that I was sick of looking fat in pictures and being fat in general. I have a good frame, so I can carry the extra weight pretty well (I have also been sucking in my gut for nearly 20 years), but I wanted to just be done with the whole fatness phase of my life. So I am on this diet which I think hase let me lose approximately 20 lbs since then (give or take).

So, my diet is basically: eat as few calories as possible. This is not as hard as it seems and if Randy Jackson, Al Roker, and Carnie Wilson can do it with the help of a gastrointerologist, I figure I can do it without one. Diet Coke lets me drink as much as I want without calories, so I have been drinking it a lot.

Now they have this contest (not the Mountain Dew NCAA contest which should have its own post dedicated to it) where they say that 1 in 12 diet cokes wins a free coke product. I figured this was pretty sweet, since I drink diet coke anyway and I've been waiting for a contest like this for years. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I must have had 50 diet cokes and I have only won twice. Both times I have won a free 1 liter coke product. This seems all fine and good, but there are two major problems:
1) nobody carries 1 liter products
2) nobody takes the caps as payment if you can actually find a 1 liter

This is the best scam ever, you run contests where nobody has the obligation to follow the rules! Have I mentioned the fact that I hate when people don't follow the rules? Anyway, this whole diet coke contest is a scam, but I'll continue to drink it anyway because I think dying from cancer is better than living as a fatass.
*************************************

On a side note, I went off the diet a little today in an effort to try and force my body to shit. As I have already posted, its been a long, dry week (which is good because the last shits felt like I had a super soaker in my ass and may have given me astroids). So I went to Bagel City and got my traditional eggwich deluxe with turkey sausage and swiss cheese. Normally, the breakfast sandwich is the best way to clear the pipes, so I'll try it. We'll see if it works.

Bored in class

Right now I am in the middle of Federal Courts class on St. Patrick's Day, which also happens to the the first day of the NCAA tournament (woo hoo UW-M!!!). Needless to say, I'm bored out of my mind because this is the worst class I have ever taken in my life. I have absolutely no attention span for this crap because I will hoepfully never use it (much like that cock-ring I got in a San Francisco bar bathroom vending machine).

In an effort to get my (newly acquired) counter up over the 1 mark, here's some questionnaire I found that I will fill out for my loyal readers (if there are any).

How much do we actually know about our friends? This
is a questionnaire to
get to know them better. Read through the comments
below about your friend
and then make sure you read the instructions at the
bottom. Have fun!

1. What time is it? 3:33 pm
2. Name as it appears on birth certificate: Rather Not Say
3. Nicknames: Poop Pants, Gary, Fuckneck, Assy-Nipples
4. Piercing: both ears (probably have closed up by now)
5. Eye color: doo doo brown
6. Place of birth: Alexandria, VA (dirty dirty!)
7. Favorite food: General Tso's Chicken / Steak
8. Ever been to Africa? no
9. Ever been toilet papering? I'm not sure I understand what this means
10. Love someone so much it made you cry? Crying is for pussies
11. Been in a car accident? Yes, but I was never driving. I'm a fucking sweet driver.
12. Croutons or bacon bits: Bacon
13. Favorite day of the week: Saturday
14. Favorite restaurant: Angelo & Maxie's
16. Favorite sport to watch: football
17. Favorite drink: A good bloody mary, beer, captain and coke
18. Favorite ice cream: Coffee/ chocolate chip cookie dough
19. Disney or Warner Bros: Warner
21. What color is your bedroom carpet? some sort of amalgam of earth tones
22. How many times did you fail your driver's test? never (see comment about being a sweet driver)
23. Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail? my girlfriend
24. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Best Buy
25. What you do most often when you are bored? Post here, drink, eat, play station.
26. Bed time: around 2
27. Who will respond to this e-mail the quickest? Nobody, as I have no readers
28. Who is the person you sent this to that is least likely to respond? See above
29. Favorite TV shows: South Park, Chappelle's Show
30. Last person you went out to dinner with: Girlfriend and friends
31. Ford or Chevy? Both suck rice cock
32.What are you listening to right now? some jackass talking about federal common law
34. Lake, ocean or river? ocean
35. How many tattoos do you have? none
36. Have you ever run out of gas? yep
37. Time you finished this e-mail? 3:40 pm

Aztecs, vacations, jobs, and weight

I have found that Aztecs (the Mexicans who clean the school bathrooms) have ESP. Any time I have to go to the bathroom, they are inevitably on the same floor as me cleaning the crappers. Its unbelievable. The funny thing about it is that for all of this supposed cleaning, the bathrooms are never even that clean. Speaking of Aztecs, its kind of ironic that a race of people who used to eat the hearts of babies and kick people in the nuts are now relegated to being 4 feet tall, cleaning bathrooms, and/or selling chiclets on beaches. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Another thing that those crazy Aztecs remind me of is that I have not had a proper vacation since about June of last year. Sure, I've gone to New Jersey and Philly and New York, but I need to go somewhere where the beer flows like wine and the women flock like the salmon of capistrano.

On the job front, I recently applied for (e-mailed a guy) my 41st job in the last couple of years. Whoever says that finding a job is easy is wrong. Dead wrong. Although I did see a job as a paint prepper for CarMax, where they said they would train you and you could make 40-50k a year. Thats pretty sweet. I'm hoping I can get something like that when I graduate, but I won't count on it. All I'm asking for is a job in an industry that is somewhat interesting to me where I can have my own desk, a computer, and a salary. Is that too much to ask? I think not.

On the weight loss front, I'm holding steady at 167 right now. I haven't really eaten much over the last couple of days, so I'm hoping that one day I'll just drop a few pounds magically. I don't think I've shit since last thrusday. Is that wierd? I think so. Maybe my impacted fecal matter is holding back my weight loss. I don't know. To get to 165 would be pretty sweet. As I may have already said, I'm in unchartered waters here under 175, so anything is good. I just want to get to the point where I can take my shirt off in public without wanting to vomit down the front of my chest. I orginally thought 165 was a magic number for that, but apparently not. Maybe 155. That would be insane.

Monday, March 14, 2005

Guest Columnist

My buddy Joe sent this out under the title: "If I had a Blog I would post this, but..." So I decided to do him the fovor of posting it in a blog for him. I figured I needed to update the site since my last drunken rambling (which I refuse to actually read) and this was a lot more entertaining than anything I could drum up in between real estate construction finance documents. So without further ado, here's Joe.

I am getting old. I came to this realization this past week because a) It dawned upon me that I am a month away from turning 28 (28!), b) I inexplicably and unknowingly have been getting food all over my face every time I eat, like the 72 year old man who sits by himself in the corner booth at the diner and has a spec of coleslaw on his chin the entire time and, c) when I saw Paris Hilton (more on this later).



I spent the past week down in beautiful Cancun, Mexico as Naomi had won an all-expense paid trip down there at her company Christmas party. This week was to be an interesting social experiment with me being 6 (6!) years removed from college and my last jaunt down to the bawdiest place on earth (excluding Rio). Would old habits die hard? I checked into the hotel, walked into my $1,071 (11,781 peso) a night penthouse suite overlooking the water, complete with Jacuzzi, California-king sized bed and balcony the size of my old NYC apartment, and could not help but think how this was the best spring break room EVER! Thoughts of orgies, freshman girls, Jerry, innertubes and friends passed out on the floor (complete with other friends sticking inanimate objects up their anuses) ran through my head. I was already pouring the champagne they so lovingly provided all over nubile young white trash when I snapped back to reality by the shout of “can you help me with this?” (which was apparently already uttered 3 times before I heard it). I soon realized that my latest trip to Cancun would be slightly different from my prior one.



Some observations from Cancun:

* It is 10 times more ‘wild and crazy’ than 6 years ago – This is not to say that it wasn’t wild and crazy when we were last there insomuch as the party culture that is Cancun and spring break has risen to levels heretofore unforeseen. At first I thought that this was just my “new” perception because I was old and all, however Pat Webster (or P-Webb as he asked to be called), a 25 year old University of Oklahoma senior, veteran of 8 Cancun spring breaks (including the last 6 consecutively), and proud owner of an Eazy-E tattoo on his back, confirmed that spring break now is different from even 3 years ago, never mind 6 years ago. “5 years ago it was rad, now it’s off the hiz-ook!” (in retrospect I think he may have said ‘mad’ but it sounded like ‘rad’ and I thought ‘rad’ was much funnier mostly because I haven’t heard that term since 1988.) Anyway, I tend to believe him. This got me thinking, how can spring break get wilder? I think this because of two factors. First, is what pop-writer (and personal favorite) Chuck Klosterman so eloquently put as the “Real World-ification” of today’s youth. By that he means that everyone under 25 can be put into one of the prototypical Real World characters, (i.e., the Black Militant, the na├»ve virgin, the drunk one, the gay one etc.) Anyway, in Cancun, everyone puts on their Trishelle and Steven from Real World Las Vegas personas, a.k.a, Slut and Playa persona. I think this is directly related to the McDonaldization of Cancun or what I’ll call…
* La Boom is dead – Cancun has become incredibly more commercialized. This is actually a disturbing trend I’ve noticed every time I revisit a place with fond memories (Key West, Ann Arbor, all of lower Manhattan (a Whole Foods on Houston!)). Anyway, Cancun has sort of become a bad cartoon of itself. As I said earlier, everyone goes down looking for a good time (which in and of itself is not a bad thing) but businesses now cater themselves to these wannabee Trishelles and Stevens and these capitalist fucks eliminated the original places that made Cancun Cancun. There are now 2 “citywalk” type places (one cleverly called “The City”), Senor Frogs now has a merchandise store attached to the restaurant/bar that is bigger than the restaurant/bar itself, and Coco Bongo has remodeled itself after a Vegas club/cabaret. But at least Coco Bongo is still there/relevant. Gone is the little place by the Melia Turquesa where Mexican waitresses first poured those pitchers of red liquor down our throats. Gone is Pasha. I drove past La Boom at 11 pm and nary a soul was in sight (I never realized what a poor location they had, that is probably because there were too many chemicals in my body to realize anything). The new places were all cookie-cutter, stereotypical, Americanized clubs blasting rap music with bikini-clad 18 year olds with fake tits and tattoos on the small of their backs dancing on the speakers. Again, this in and of itself is not such a bad thing, but I AM nostalgic for the old Cancun, and that is what made me realize I was old. It won’t be too long before I reminisce about having to hike 4 miles in 0 degree weather and 12 inches of snow (Informer, a licky boom-boom down). Anyway, These clubs perpetuate the MTV personas the kids come down with, and then the kids perpetuate the clubs because the clubs are blood-sucking capitalists… it is a vicious cycle, and so every year, Cancun gets more “off the hiz-ook” and MTV is all too blame. Which brings me back to …
* When I Saw Paris Hilton – I was walking back from the Mexican 7-11 to get a large bottle of water past the little Mexicans selling chiclets, past the vagabond women carrying their children in an over-the-shoulder satchel (paige), and past the women braiding the hair of over-weight, pale, bikini clad women from Iowa, when I was approached by a young attractive women wearing a t-shirt that said MTV casting. She selected me to be in the audience of show MTV was about to tape entitled “VIP with Paris Hilton”. Feeling that maybe I still looked young or was perhaps even, young, I accepted. I was suddenly backstage at MTV spring break headquarters in Cancun Mexico, walking the various c-list MTV personalities (hi Quddus!) and hot bikini clad models MTV hires to dance at these things. I took my place in the audience and waited for the show to begin. These shows are even more fabricated than I could have imagined. They filmed the intro “everybody scream and wave your hands wildly” shot 3 (3!) times. How any of these looked different from the others I have no idea. Anyway, if you happen to catch the show (which turned out to be a hot or not contest as judged by Paris Hilton) you may see me in the audience. I should be recognizable by the fact that a) I am wearing a Mets cap and b) I am the only one who does not look like he has ever taken the cream (or the clear) and doesn’t have his arms covered in tacky tattoos. It was then, looking around, surveying the crowd, hearing that bitch say in her sheepish, dunce-like voice “that’s hot,” I realized it was indeed true. I am getting old. I just didn’t fit in, nor did I care about the show, or that is was spring break all around me. So I wandered off the set and onto the rest of the MTV grounds, thinking about how much I would have enjoyed being here 6 years ago, but now it just wasn’t for me. I was past my spring break prime. I did start talking to this one MTV staffer who looked to be my age and started talking to him about MTV spring break. After waxing poetic about MTV, she offered me tickets to that evening’s 50 cent concert at “The City” which she promised to be “off the hook” (what is up with this term). I took them with no plans to go (I’ve seen too many good hip hop acts perform bad concerts to want to see a bad rap act perform a bad show) and was comforted by my decision when in passing by “The City” that night I saw a line longer than at the welfare office in the Bronx on the first of the month. Apparently, all of Cancun had tickets the show and they filled the place up on first come first serve. This is undoubtedly the greatest scam of all time. Sell unlimited tickets to a popular concert, and then only let in 1/100th of them. Ticketmaster will undeniably be in on this scam within 5 years. (Surprisingly the lines the next 2 nights for Ludacris and The Game, were much shorter, yet still incredible long.)

Anyway, my return visit to Cancun was decidedly more relaxing. I was more than happy spending my vacation lying by the pool, sipping fruity cocktails, reading 2 books and various magazines, going to a decent dinner and getting a massage. And of course, I reminisced about the Glory Days, because after all, I am old and that’s what old folks do.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

169!

One hundred Sixty Nine pounds. That is how much I weighed today. I have never seen that number before. Its quite an accomplishment for those of you who don't have the metabolism of the Galapagos tortise. Hopefully, I can continue my eating disorder until I can actually see my abs, but we'll have to wait on that. I think I can keep this up at least another week, so maybe I'll get to about 165 by then.

Anyway, my arse still hurts like William. It was at the point where I needed to sit down all night if I could. Tonight we went to this bar called "The Reef." Ot kind of sucks because they won't let you on the second floor unless you have (Katie's) titties. By the way, I'm having to stop every sentence to spell check because I'm slightly retarded right now, so excuse any spelling errors. Back to the Reef. Normally, I wouldn't go there, but one of my friend's friends is moving to England and we had to see him off. I don't really know him too well, but I went anyway. His turnout was probably better than mine would hvae been in the same situation, so he's go that going fo him (which is nice) and a job, which I don't have.

I'm hoping that my Sports Law professor can hook me up, which is wishful thinking at this point, but I can dream (can't I)? The job situation is bad because I tried to sell out, but nobody wants me and my heart is not in selling out. I feel like George Costanza in that I can't pay attention unless its sports. I know that makes me sound dumb, but at least I'll have graduated law school to prove that I do (in fact) have a brain.

On to the major thoughts. First of all, what is up with Joaquin Phoenix's cleft palate? Nobody seems to talk about this, yet I can't get past it. Everyone thinks he's this great actor since Gladiator (which is on at least twice a day) and I think he's just distracting. River was the real talent in that family and it is a chame that he needed to overdose outside the Viper Room.

My girlfriend just asked what I was doing. I told her to hold on. I have not told her about this blog because 1) I would not be as candid if I knew that people (she) could see it and 2) I'm embarassed of what may come out here, so you (the reader) can hear about my true ass pains more vividly if she does not know. Speaking of which, the pains are pretty rediculous. Its almost as if I got my taint pierced.

Hopefully, I have at least entertained you (if I have any readers) for the past couple of minutes and my spelling misatkes are not too bad (since I am drunk). Love, peace, and nappiness!

--Catheter Man

Thursday, March 10, 2005

My Arse Kills

Right now, my ass feels like a bag of ricotta cheese in a plastic bag that has been stepped on by a football team wearing cleats, if you know what I mean. It was kind of hurting two days ago, when I had what was the equivalent of the Mexican water shits about 5 times in 1 hour. Yesterday, that only happened once, but I went to the opening of this new restaurant and was forced to stand for about 5 hours straight, which didn't help. So now its 6:45 in the AM (for those of you who are licking, thats WBALLS) and I'm sitting here typing for whoever looks at this site (I'm actually not sure if anyone does because I can't seem to find a way to put a counter on it).

So I'm not really sure if I have astroids of what, but my ass feels like a freaking Whitesnake concert. I don't really know what that last sentence meant, but it sounded funny in my head. I think I need to invest in some baby wipes, or at least take a sitz bath. Thats probably what I'll do after I go back to sleep and wake up again. Luckily, since it is sping break (wooo hooo!), I can do that. Come to think of it, I could do that anyway because I don't have class on Fridays. Some might say I'm like Fat Albert in that way (and that I'm a big fat black guy who always wears a red sweater and plays the radiator in a junkyard band). Actually, I'm not black, more of a tannish, olive color but I do have quite the large endowment (not quite Harvard-sized, but more like the University of Texas --- its big. Look it up.)

But I digress. My ass feels like Larry King's face.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Intern Contest, part 1

As I sit here, wasting time on the internet, I always remember to check the Sports Guy's site on ESPN. Right now, he is doing an intern contest where people write in to try and become his next intern. I would have tried out, but I refuse to do any work for free anymore. That being said, some of his questions are pretty funny and thought provoking. So without further ado... onto my first foray into answering them.

Questions:
1) What is your favorite SNL sketch ever and why?
2) What is the funniest scene in movie history and why?
3) What is your favorite reality TV moment and why?
4) If you could choose any sports scandal, what would it be and why?

Answers:

1) This would have to be a toss-up between two Chris Farley works of genius: Matt Foley, inspirational speaker and the Chippendale's dancers. I think I'll go with the former. The best Matt Foley sketch was the first one ever with David Spade and Christina Applegate as the kids, Phil Hartman and Julia Sweeny as the parents. Everything about this sketch was hilarious, from the dialouge to Farley's clothes, to the first Farley destruction of a table. Chris played this one so over the top that Spade and Applegate are clearly laughing throughout the entire thing. This sketch was the break out role for Farley and deservedly so. I heard that whenever writers couldn't figure out how to make a sketch funny, all they had to do was write 2 words: "Farley enters." I, for one, wish Chris could have found whatever it was he was looking for so he'd still be with us today.

2) This is a though one. I consider myself somewhat of an expert on comedies, but it is hard to figure out the funniest scene. I gotta break the rules a little bit on this. First of all, I'm going for the funniest unintentional/intentional scene. Second, its more than one scene. I have to say the whole boot camp section of Full Metal Jacket. R. Lee Ermy gave an Oscar-worthy performance and was just hilarious. I could list all the great quotes from this part, but I don't have the time.

3) This one is easy. My boy, Adam Mesh getting stood up on the final Average Joe because the girl chose the wrong guy. Mesh then proceeded to do the exact same thing on Average Joe II. Hell, the fact that I even watched both of those shows is funny in itself.

4) My sporst scandal would be a class action lawsuit be all the NBA baby mamas. How great would that be? Thousands of women would definitely line up for a chance at this one. David Stern needs to be taken down a few pegs and this would surely do it.

It begins...

Well, I've finally started a blog. I hopt to update it as much as possible and not give up in two weeks like I normally would with new projects. Here you can expect to read about such important things as: Jaoquin Phoenix's cleft palate, drunken rants by me, stories about trying to graduate law school, stories about trying to get a job, and other nonsense.

I guess the main reason I'm starting this today is that I have a big project I'm supposed to be working on for my Real Estate class. I'm trying to not start it this week even though I should because its spring break. Wooooo hoooooooo!!!!!!! Not only do I not go to some tropical locale, I get to stay in freezing DC and get handed a shit sandwich to eat. Well, screw you. I'm not going to start until next week because this is a group project and I can't fail it!!!!

So now I have some important business to take care of, such as wading through the playoffs in NBA Live 2005 (yes, I am 27 years old and stil playing video games), walking around outside, getting lunch, trolling the internet, cursing my leaky faucet, broken heater, and running toilet, figuring out who the hell "fitness celebrity" John Basedow is, and possibly watching some tv. Ahhh spring break.

I meant for that last paragraph to be the last one, but the great thing about this bloggin stuff is that it is very train of thought-esque. Very Jack Kerouac (even though I hated On the Road and still don't understand what the big deal about it is/was). Anyway, the point of beginning a whole new paragraph is that I saw this tv show last night for the first time called Long Road Home. Its about Ewan McGregor and one of his buddies from Scotland riding from London to New York on motorcycles all the way around the earth. Last night they were in Mongolia. Unfortunately they didn't run into any mongoloids, but it was still pretty riveting stuff. I suggest you keep an eye out for it.

Mahalo.