I can't be held responsible for the things I say or write...


The video that didn't work in the last post...

After this much anticipation and after how little happens in this video, you're going to be disappointed...clemend


Getting aged on the sideline

I woke up in Marshall's today. The store, not the bar...though it would make more sense if I woke up in a bar because who wakes up in a department store?

I found myself feeling, or at least recognizing what the feeling was, when I was in college in Chocolate City only this time I was doing the whole reflecting thing. Generally, I think I might be getting aged. Not old, but aged.

It was a strange feeling walking in and around Marshalls. I'm heading down to beautiful Columbia, SC next week for anywhere from a week to over a month. It's going to pretty awesome and by awesome I mean not awesome. Anyway, so I need to get some "business casual" clothes, which I don't own. I own business professional clothes, like clothes you wear with suits, only I don't wear the jacket. So when I get told I can dress business casual, I first think what that is and realize I don't own any business casual clothes...which makes me feel aged.

My first office mate told me all he owned were jeans and work clothes. I remember saying I would never pull that off, but today I said the same thing to a co-worker that my first office mate said to me. So I'm in Marshall's because I need to get some less dress like clothes for Columbia and I don't want to spend all that much money on a few shirts and pairs of pants. It reminded me of my first few months at work when I needed clothes but didn't have the money to get the nice stuff on my own and Christmas was too far away to wait for Santa to drop new stuff on me. So to Marshalls I would go. Three and a half years. Aged.

So I'm walking through Marshalls and I'm not even all that interested in anything. It took me a few minutes to ever get comfortable in the store. I started to feel like I was supposed to be past Marshalls when I realized what it's like be someone in my position...27 years old, with a paying job, no kids, no wife (yet) and no debt. Then I started to feel like an asshole for thinking I should be past this stage. I looked around and saw a lot of people in different stages of their lives. Teenagers, mothers, immigrants and just people who were like me. I started having one of those flash forwards where this was going to be more like the near future than the not so distant past. Aged.

I even felt more aged because the shit that would have pissed me off going on in the store or the frustrations that would have got the best of me I was laughing at or knowing exactly how to play off. I was even to maneuver all necessary employees in whatever way I needed without causing anyone any agitation or conflict. I watched as other suffered through issues I once experienced. I then sent a message to a friend of mine that I might have outgrown myself. After all, I woke up today and started thinking about what one of my co workers should be doing instead of what we currently do. I thought that was pretty smart of me and all since I'm still 26 yardsale on the fuck I'm doing. Makes no sense to me either.

Basically, what I have going is that transition is in the near future, like less than 30 days, and I nostalgic feelings ride with that. However, I feel like I'm too young to be dealing with that. It's to the point where I'm looking forward to watching "Quarterlife" on NBC starting this Tuesday at 10 pm. They don't pay me to advertise for them but here I go doing it again. First Prison Break, now quarterlife?

OK, I guess I owe you a little bit of the bachelor party after this one: I made previous mention to testube shots that were mostly sugar. What you don't know is that there are about 20 shots on each tray. What is also unknown and was unknown to me until later, is that the tray costs approximately $200. What you ought to know is that in less than 5 minutes, I was force fed roughly 20 testube shots...two at a time. Most of this was thanks to my friend in the background yelling at the shot girl, "ONE MORE!! ONE MORE!!" I would try to walk away casually, only to be spun around by shot girl as she would force deuce more down.

I woke up the next day with basically no memory of this night. What I remembered, thanks to my video camera, was that before we went I was already torn up and was hiding in an armoire. That video is slightly hilarious. Enjoy:

WAIT. Are those Starbury's prominently featured in seconds 6-11?!?!?!?!? Available now at Steve and Barry's.


Recap time

off into the sunset he goes. right about now, you're probably thinking, hey, he's writing again, he's probably going to fill us in on his bachelor party. nope. really, there isn't much one can say. mans code is to not discuss what events transpired at a bachelor party so as a man, and despite what may have previously been written about sharing about the bachelor party, man will not write about it.

so what on earth could he possibly be writing about?

kickball is back soon....but that's not what we're here for......

PRISON BREAK SEASON 3 RECAP TIME....awesome...or not?

Prison Break has finally ended it's third season and guess what?!?!? they get out of jail. NO WAY. Yes way Ted.

The season ends with the exchange of Whistler for LJ Burrows and Whistler's gash, who no longer loves him. She now craves the bone of former death row inmate turned Panamanian refugee Lincoln Burrows. However, at the end of the season, we appear to be heading into a brand new twist that is sure to officially get Prison Break cancelled, if it even comes back at all.

But let's back up.

The season, all 5 episodes, starts with Scofield still in Sona trying to break out this mysterious Whistler guy, who is revealed more and more as likely a Company guy as the season progresses. The inmates are having their issues with Patron taking Scofield under his wing and many of Patron's people are pissed about it...to the point where they overtake him and claim control of the prison. Keep in mind, I have very little time to write this and the details are very minute anyway. It's a show called Prison Break, so let's get right to the breakout.

Come break out time, the list has swollen to Patron (leader of Sona and former drug lord/mass murderer), T-Bone (inmate with Scofield in season 1), Bellick (guard in season 1), Mahone (FBI agent in season 2), Whistler (Company slut), Luis (teenager in Sona for unidentified reason) and Scofield.

Since T-Bone and Patron are the only true criminals in the gang, they assume Scofield will screw them over, so they get to be the first ones out of the hole they dug in the ground...So they un-covered some old tunnels between in the prison grounds and dug up from down there. Their escape would put them in the middle of the yard. Scofield has Sucre helping him on the outside so the gate can be broken through easily. What Patron and T-Bone don't know is that the lights will not be out for 30 seconds like Scofield said...only 10 or 15. So when Linc takes out the lights, Patron, T-Bone and Bellick make a run for it. Patron gets shot and T-Bone and Bellick stop running.

Now the escape happens. As the guards run into the yard to recover the 3 escapees, Scofield, Luis, Whistler and Mahone come out of the ground in plain sight. All of the guards are distracted and they take off.

The plan is to get to the water, swim out to a buoy and Sucre will pick them up in a boat...only Sucre is being detained because the alias he used has a warrant out for it on unpaid child support...they have that in Panama too, what a world. So, Luis' father, figuring something is wrong when they haven't met him at the boat, determines the boat is supposed to be used and shows up out of nowhere and picks up everyone.

So now, all they have to do is escape the Company. The Company is trying to get Whistler back on their terms, ie kill everyone, but the brothers have a plan at a Warehouse. Slowing things down is Whistler who apparently sprained his ankle before swimming to safety. Only now he makes a break for it. As the Company arrives at the Warehouse, no one else is there because the brothers went after Whistler. Mahone says good bye before they run because there is no loyalty there.

Eventually, the brothers catch back up to Whistler and the new exchange point is a museum. All the players are there. The chick, LJ, the badass Company lady who is not to be effed with, Whistler, Linc and Scofield. Gunmen are on every entrance to the hotel, so as soon as the brothers walk out, they're dead. The reason Scofield picked this museum is that there are no metal detectors, so the badass chick can't walk in with a gun.

Exchanges go as planned and then the badass chick gets cocky. Before that, Whistler's girl pulls the I hate you routine and goes back in the group of the brothers and LJ. At this point, Scofield breaks a glass box holding something in the museum and an alarm goes off. Everyone is searched on the way out and Whistler is detained because Scofield put something from the gift shop in his pocket. As the police are holding Whistler, badass chick intervenes but no one pays any attention to her. Then one of her cronies goes to shoot one of the brothers when a guard tackles him. The shot misses everyone...or does it.

The shot hits Linc's new chick in the side and he plays the role of concerned idiot because he just broke someone out of a jail and is sticking around where shots have been fired. While this is going on, Scofield goes to his car, gets his gun and aims it at the badass chick. Before he can pull the trigger, the Panamanian police, who are doing an excellent job of getting made fun of by American television by the way, starts shooting and missing terribly at her and her van. They hop in and take off.

The brothers too flee the scene, but LJ sticks around with the shot girl. Eventually, Linc goes to the hospital where she says Whistler has something under his bed that might help tell who he is. The brothers go and retrieve it and that's where they say good-bye. It'd be simple. They are free, the police have no idea where they are and they can finally disappear. NOPE. Now Scofield is after the badass chick who beheaded his love, Sarah Tancredy.

Whilst this is going on, Mahone has been sitting in a bar staring at a bank. One might suspect he is going to rob it, but at the end of the episode, Whistler shows up and they have this "you sure you're in cause it's 100%" "yeah i'm in" talk and off they go with the badass chick.

Then the cut is to Scofield, who is driving down the road with the gun on the passenger seat on his way to Arizona or something because there was some info in the case.

There is some odd music playing the whole time and it flashes through everyone walking/driving/in their new place in the world. Sucre was discovered to be helping Scofield and is thrown in Sona. T-Bone suffocated (oops, probably should have told you this but) Patron in his room to take control over Sona....he was going to die anyway, by T-Bone did this and then started throwing money to the crowd declaring everyone is an equal...which should probably end poorly in the end. Bellick looks terrified and he should.

Linc is with the chick and LJ at the hospital and Luis has escaped to safety in Columbia.

The show had the air of possibly being done with and now that characters are behaving unlike they have in the 3 seasons previous, I would say the show is probably done....not that I'll stop watching.


Hurricanes and Hand Grenades

I don't really bet that much. I also don't understand betting odds all that great, which was something reinforced by these statements in the pre-bachelor party post:

Odds of getting arrested? High.
Odds of seeing numerous celebrities? High.
Odds of getting jealous of one of the NBA players for taking attention away and then making the smartest decision of my life to infiltrate the players entourage and then bitch slap that player, run away and live? Low. I'm not that stupid.

No one got arrested and for all purposes, one person should have in the first hour I was there. It turns out New Orleans is the most relaxed city ever.

I saw a celebrity (Allen Houston) and I got some film of him not closing the deal.

I wanted little to no of the attention at all times because the more attention caused, the more alcohol would be forced down my throat.

4 nights in the French Quarter was quit enough. 3 nights on Bourbon Street, with a balcony that looks right over the street in the heart of the action is plenty to take in over 3 nights. Each morning was a constant reminder that we were to be back on the balcony soon only to then to play the street until 5 am. The earliest night I got to bed was the one where I blacked out, in part due to Sparks. That was around 4 or 5. The other sleep times were 6:30, 7 and 6. Yikes. Sleeping never made it past noon.

I'm sitting in the airport about to board my flight and there really isn't enough time to write anything too substantial. Basically, New Orleans is just different than anything I've experienced in this country. As I've gone to other countries and hung out/went out, I just figured the lack of interaction with others while out and about was just a language barrier. In NOLA, people just mind their own business. It's not like people were sober or well behaved, just people tended to just let you be...that is, unless you were a fine nubian princess....then you were harrassed by more dudes that you knew even walked the earth. Seriously, dudes would just walk up to these women and grab their arm or whistle at them or do the double take with the "DAMN" thrown in. I decided that this was no town for a woman of the quality of the doctor or anyone we know that has a soul. But I never really felt the fear I thought I had going in. I never felt threatended or like we were in a place we really shouldn't.

I did have the shakes a lot though, but that was due to the amount of sugar in the majority of the drinks we had such as:

Hand Grenades
Testube Shots that were primarily sugar
Red Bull

The last one really does give you wings by the way.

Other than that, I have a bunch of video that I'll try to get postable and there were all sorts of other hijinxs that occurred but can't be shared. Rules of the bachelor party state that nothing is to be disclosed. It's my party so I'll break the rules if I want to...like that we were courtside for a few minutes at the All-Star game...or that we got free passes to walk all around the arena during the game.

Pretty crazy weekend all around. As far as injuries go, besides serious stomach trauma, I woke up one day without the ability to use my right arm. That got a little better but I still can't do things like open doors without pain. I also have a bruised rib but I think that's more of a swollen liver induced pain. All digits are accounted for.


Bachelor Party Send Off

It's this thing that's just around the corner that constantly nags at you until it's finally here. For me, that's my bachelor party, which starts in less than 12 hours. I'm still in DC waiting to go to the airport to catch my 9:50 flight to New Orleans. Most of the players are already there. 4 of them drove from New York, leaving Wednesday around 3 and arriving in NO at 1 on Thursday. 3 from Jersey flew and arrived at 1:45. Another will come in tomorrow night and the last will arrive Saturday afternoon. Did I mention that this is also NBA All-Star Weekend in NO?

Odds of getting arrested? High.
Odds of seeing numerous celebrities? High.
Odds of getting jealous of one of the NBA players for taking attention away and then making the smartest decision of my life to infiltrate the players entourage and then bitch slap that player, run away and live? Low. I'm not that stupid.

I do not feel very safe heading into this weekend. I'm not so much worried about the whole stigma that I'm going to get shot because it's All-Star weekend. I'm more afraid I'm going to get shot because I'll spend 85% of this weekend blacked out and therefore get shot for not even know why. I think that's much more likely.

What I found really surprising is that I've told a lot of people that I'm going to New Orleans for my bachelor party and they say the usual comments. When I tell them that it's also All-Star weekend, 8 out of 10 people say I'm going to get shot. This has probably been the most racist thing that I have come around in a while...and it's odd because so many people just up and say it like it doesn't mean anything. If I were to say in response to that comment, "why?" I bet each person would definitely squirm a little bit in their seat.

So, as we move further into the unknown which lies before me, it's safe to say I'm terrified. The unknown is what terrifies me the most. I've been to NO once. I was 15 years old and my cousin, who lives there, told me that when I go to NO, watch out because people don't play around there. You can get shot just for looking at someone. I was 15. This was my 35 year old cousin scaring me for life.

I'm also slightly afraid for other reasons:

1. My friends, or at least some of them, are idiots. If you've been to one of my birthday blowouts, you see that they get me black out drunk in under a hour and then push me into people as we walk down the street. Two years ago, I feel into people eating jumbo slice...like right into their laps.

2. I have a wedding in two months in which I need to have no showing bruises, no scars that don't currently exist, I must have all digits and extremities and I must be able to walk. Those are the requirements. With this requirement, I think a scale is in order.

There is no way all of my people walk away from this arrest free (though there's already been 1 run in with the police and the thing hasn't even started yet...some sort of record I'm sure), warrant free, and injury free. I've decided that with the combination of bachelor party mentality, All-Star weekend, the reckless abandon on which cash will be thrown around this weekend and the overall presence of alligators, the following are the acceptable levels of each:

Arrests have to be limited to misdemeanors of which the offending party in jail has one of those sleep it off type arrests. In fact, these are encouraged because they will be hilarious. Nothing will be more fun than walking into a police station at 10 am hammered with 9 other people to bail your friend out.

Warrants have to be local warrants. No one wants a federal warrant or anything that can come back and haunt you. I know absolutely nothing about these, so in case I'm way off, rest assured I'm making all of this up for filler.

Injuries. Injuries have their own scale.

Say I get shot. If I get shot in the foot and can't walk for three months, then this presents a major problem. Not only would I be shot, but I would have failed a major requirement for the wedding. HOWEVER, if I get shot and can recover in time to walk at the wedding, then I think we chalk it up to high comedy. Sure, it would suck to get shot, but try beating that bachelor party. Essentially, I could start the trend that if you don't get shot on your bachelor party, it's not worth it. So there are two sides to getting shot. The extreme side would be bad, but the minor side would just be good stories for the grandkids.

Say I lose part of my body to an alligator. FYI, though nothing is confirmed, this is actually a possibility. So say for some random reason it's me vs.. a gator. First of all, no matter how small the gator, the teeth will still eff you up. Ask my sister. She has three in her office closet. I'm not actually lying. She'll confirm this for you in a response I hope...and maybe a picture too? ANYWAY, me vs.. the gator. Let's call it earl. QP Live and his 20 digits and 2 ears vs.. Earl. If I don't walk away with 20 digits and 2 ears, then I have failed failed failed to qualify for the wedding. This would be worse than getting shot. Ultimately, I think it more important to have all digits and ears than to be able to walk at the wedding. So for this reason, I'm going to be trying to avoid any and all damage from a gator vs.. trying not to get shot in NO. I think that's the safest way to play this.

So that's where I'm boost mobile right now. I'll have a video camera with me, I'll have a cell phone with me and I'll a tremendous amount of liquid courage in me.

Pray for me, as I will surely think of you as I sit in a holding cell.



WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In the past 30 minutes, being the time difference between when the Giants won and right now, I've texted, called and yelled "WE DID ITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT" at loud volumes numerous times. Most responses have been congratulations and a couple have been, "I didn't know you played for the Giants." Those people would be correct...but I did pray for the Giants...and the fuller my beer was, the better the Giants D played. So thinking like that should probably make me less of an alcoholic, right? Fuck. I think I'm slipping further into the anti-fun, you're a big pussy disease.

YEAH! That sounds like fun. Can't wait to be the sober guy at the wedding loving desert, NOT beating my wife and showing up on time to everything with a straight lace tie. Fag.



The Giants won the Super Bowl and I have a few thoughts:


2. It feels great to have your team win a Championship. It doesn't happen all that often (in the NFL you have a 1 in 32 chance every year) and even though I'd love for the Giants and Yankees to win every year (if the Knicks or any DC team won I'd love the happiness of the DC to roll with it too), you just can't rely on that shit. It just doesn't happen all that much.

3. Man, I'm happy about the whole NY over Boston thing. But more than that, I'd like to take this opportunity to shot out 3 people:

3.a - Top Top Topashelf - Sent me a text after the game saying, "Great D." As Pats fan, it can't be easy to send that message, but it takes pride to send that message, all the same. Thanks for manning up...no pun intended...YES, I didn't realize that pun yet but AWESOME

3.b - My man Otis - Otis is a Buffalo born kid who is a Bills fan, but has grown up in the Boston area and roots strong for the douche bag Red Sox. Can't hate the man for that because he is a true fan, but I love him for the fact he is a Bills fan and will only root for the Pats because it makes the city (or I guess I should say region) happy. But the man texts me after the RIDICULOUS Tyree catch about how amazing it was and then follows up with a congratulatory calls. My man Otis, shotahollerdawg.

3.c - FAUST - The kid brought up Regionals '03. He sent me a text before the game predicting the Pats would win 38-17. I responded saying thanks for picking the Giants to win in the upset. Eventually, I commented on Bellicek's new red sweatshirt (read SWEATY in a shitty Masshole accent)and that he probably picked it out by filming another team and realizing how good it looked, and he responded by saying, "way to force that in, just like regionals 03." What a dick. That was cold Faust. We all know that I dicked it...or Whoops as I like to say...but that's still cold. Crossing a line like that is pretty fucked up...especially since I A) Didn't mean to do it and B) didn't fucking mean to do it. But it's out there and it's history so I should expect that to keep coming my way. But still.....WE DID IT

F he dynasty. Let's go BIG BLUE and hey:

Wasn't it great to see Bellichek leaving the field with time still on the clock even after Mike Carrey (the head official and the best official in the league) telling douche McRedSweaty that there was still time on the clock, run off the field...ah, the lack of class...the lack of need for respect. Motherfuck you Billy....We fucking did it.

Lets go Big Blue.