First Base with my Favorite Artist

There are several reasons why I, N.O.N, Do not buy CD’s anymore. I can’t even remember the last CD I bought (I’m talking about Audio CDs).

Well for one, I don’t ‘OWN’ a CD player. Yes, that’s correct, it’s 2005 and I don’t own a fucking CD player. My Car, has no CD/ Stereo thing (but I’m keeping it that way because that’s Old Skool …and it makes me feel special) I don’t have a stereo unit at home, and the only “CD player” I have is on my computer, which doesn’t really count. So I guess it makes sense to not buy CDs anymore … IF YOU CAN’T PLAY THEM ANYWHERE.

It’s actually a habit/ lifestyle I’ve gotten accustomed to, I have “access” to whatever I want to hear whenever I want to hear it. My iPod, along all the little expensive ass Hee-Haw gadgets that I’ve bought, allows me to play it wherever the fuck I want … AND crank it up.

But believe it or not, those super-logical reasons are not why I don’t buy CDs anymore … Oh no, I’m not that super-logical of a person. It’s the little things in life (or lack of them) that get to me the most. I’m probably one of the more particular people when it comes down to it, and the most minute of reasons can sway me (one of the qualities which I think equip me nicely to one day become a Supreme Court justice).

For example, I don’t buy CDs because I think they are hard to open. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m OCD or some shit … I’m not, I just get super annoyed by the “PLASTIC WRAPPING … OF DEATH” … What the hell? I am not a “weakling” either, and I have the mental aptitude to perform the aforementioned task, it’s just that I think it defies the concept of “user-friendly”, and it just angers me to think about the lengths that they go through to make that part of your day a very un-enjoyable experience. I have resorted to actually putting my mouth on this thing to try and get it off because I was too fed up scratching away at what seemed like an eternity of nothingness.

Some of the CDs have a ‘peeling band’ with a hanging tail, where you can just pull it off and it starts the tear on the wrapping … well … not a bad start, but how about making that thing RED … just like the CHEESE maker-people do, so I can see where the damn thing is.

Here’s something, and I’m willing to bet, I’m not the only person who’s tried to tear away the plastic wrapping with my mouth … but here’s a concept … how about some flavoring on the plastic wrapping? Not only can I buy my new Hillary Duff CD (or Hailey Duff, I’ll accept either one) … but I can buy the new Hillary Duff CD (or Hailey Duff, I’ll accept either one) in Strawberry! Vanilla! Or Cinnamon! (Or if you had a microscope, it’s probably more like feces, strep or nasty-hand-sweat/gunk-from-the-person-who-touched-this-thing-before-you flavored wrapping … either way … Hot Shit)!

Also, I don’t buy CDs anymore, because they’re always priced so strangely. This actually bothers me in all forms of retail/ commercial America … CARS to CANDY BARS … Why can’t it just be 14 dollars even, don’t trick me with that $13.99 bullshit and advertise it as being UNDER 14 dollars. Not to mention sales taxes, they make the final numbers add up to even crazier totals … Case in point… $16.27

The wait, the agonizing, excruciating waiting period before a CD hits the market (usually on a Tuesday). I figure it would be easier to just ignore it altogether, I can understand waiting for a movie (only because you don’t have to wait … and then still force yourself to make out with it just trying to unwrap it).

And one “non-technical” reason … Most CDs today have a decent single released and an absolute shitty 16 songs to accompany that one song. There are a handful of CDs where one does not have to use the “skip” feature.

What happens to the CD case if you have one of those case logic CD folios? (If you don’t … well, then you need a CD rack).

It’s just all too overwhelming.

My Road to Stardom

I’ve always been interested in the film business. Depending on the mood, sometimes I’m more interested in writing and other times it’s more about directing or camera work … ‘cinematography’, for those non-cinematically-technical-vocabulary hip folk. Another question is whether I belong on the screen or off the screen? Behind or Infront of the Camera?

I was fooled into thinking that I would make a good actor … but let’s face it, that’s probably a misconception.

What would I act in? A drama? First of all, I can’t hold a serious face for more than 15 seconds. I always interrupt myself with a laugh, a smirk, a blink or something stupid. So picture me acting: “Mr. President, we have 30 seconds before the asteroid hits the Ea...ahahaha” – It would make me sound like the main conspirator in ANYTHING bad that’s about to happen in any movie (or, if I ever played “the president” it would go something like “How much time do we Hahahaha”).

And Comedy? I could do comedy, but I think I’m a bit too serious for that too. Either that, or again, I would laugh at my own punch lines. Have you ever seen an SNL where someone just blunders the skit because they laugh? (It always happens to whoever is acting opposite Horatio Sanz).

I think the only genre that might suit me is probably horror. Ah, yes … I can do a mean boogeyman … or maybe that guy with the chainsaw? Probably anything that involves me wearing a mask, because then, I can laugh all I want … hysterically … and all the audience would see is my uncontrollable waving of a buzzing chainsaw. The point exactly, right? But the mask always gets taken off at some point, and I have this non-menacing thing going on … wouldn’t really be a hit.

I can do the James Earl Jones thing … the most famous ‘voice’ in the world. WHY? Because he says “This is CNN” Or “This is VERIZON” (do they really have the same slogan or is verizon different?) But that would be boring … unless I get to say something cool like … “Victoria’s Secret, the world’s first weightless push up bra that has come in contact with the breasts (oops!) of Tyra Banks, Giselle Bundchen, Adrianna Lima, Heidi Klum and many, many more.” That would be hot. (Also, I do have a good “phone voice” – refer back to yesterday’s post).

What about ACTION? Could I be an action hero? I did do that funky thing with the bottle of Ice Tea in “firefightin’ fool” … that’s surely gotta give me some street cred. Right? I probably wouldn’t want to be the main action star … Not only do those people have to go to the gym for 8 hours a day … they usually end up having to jump off buildings, and walk through fire, so they can reap the accolades in their promo interviews. “Yeah, I totally drove that car right through the explosion man … go see my movie/ near death experience…one in the same really.”

I can play the rich mobster/ bad guy in an action movie; I’ve been told before that my seated stance communicates a sickening level of wealth, cold heartedness and a definite goal of world domination in mind. (N.T.’s theory)

Let’s go back in time, how would I do as a Silent Film star? Well? I don’t think that’ll work either … those people move pretty damn fast and have some non-standard human reflexes. It reminds me of the “BRILLIANT!” Guinness commercials. Besides, who would want to be in washed-out black & white? That’s definitely not the in thing these days.

Theatre/ Stage? Nah, the last time I tried this, age six, I pushed a kid (one of my best friends back then) off the stage because he had the role I wanted. We were doing a production of Mr. Men… and I was cast as Mr. Happy… but I wanted to be Mr. Strong … and I guess I was out to prove my strength (!?!?!?!) The experience wasn’t pleasant for anyone, and my on-stage “chemistry” has suffered a great deal since. Can I get points for ‘Ambition’?

Note: To Javier, if you read this, I’m sorry, I’m older now, a bit wiser; I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your costume (arms, legs and head sticking out of a red-painted box, to convey the ‘muscular’ qualities of Mr. Strong) and pushed you in the middle of the play, but I STILL think I should have played Mr. Strong.

What about some Documentary/Mockumentary action? It wouldn’t really be acting; it would be the same as going on reality TV and then thinking you’re a celebrity. Unless… I get to tackle some deep subject matter such as … a president, a fast-food chain or … classic porn blockbusters.

Oh yeah... what about Porn? Hmm … only the HARDCORE shit (ala “Ghetto Booty 6”).

Ladies and Gentlemen: I have narrowed down and exhausted every possible avenue for me to become an acting power-house/household name … and it definitely looks like it ain’t happenin’ anytime soon.

What would anyone in my position do in this situation? There are no fellow six year olds to push and definitely no chainsaws to brandish.

Errrrrr…Ummm….

“Damn, even though I lost, I still look good.”

Pickup or Delivery?

I was thinking about this recently and thought I should share. This is a reflection from when I used to work answering phones in a local pizza joint in Blacksburg, VA. I worked at the pizza shop for a good year, maybe 2 … to be quite honest; I don’t even remember exactly how long … but a decent while. I didn’t own a car nor was I able to drive, which automatically relegated me to the position of Phone-Answer-er … and sometimes cook, but I think I was pretty good on the phone (hidden talent #217), so I rarely cooked.

The format of this reflection is in the ‘Then & Now’. Then is obvious, and now is also obvious.


THEN: I was told repeatedly by my (drunken) female customers how sexy my voice was and how I should consider a career in phone sex operation. Hey, I’ll take any kind of flattery I can get. What? Are you kidding me? What is so sexy about: “Thanks for Calling, is this for pick-up or delivery”? (But then again …)

NOW: In hindsight, I think the bitches were definitely trying to score some discounts.

THEN: I had a boss, who must have been under the impression that a person would like him and like coming to work without getting paid for it – I wasn’t feeling that at all but if it wasn’t for all that free food … (I got SO much free food, which elevated me into everyone’s favorite-person-status in the design studio building … you cheap fucks).

NOW: No, people will STILL not like you even after you have paid them. Popularity’s definitely down; I have no means of providing endless supplies of free pizza, subs, wings, fries, wraps, drinks. (Also, to the credit of M.S., who is a well-meaning person, just a bad planner (?) – I did get rides home occasionally, and actually I think I got paid a couple of times when other co-workers didn’t – clearly favoritism, but hey … I spoke Arabic).

THEN: I felt there was about 3 ‘sane’ people out of an entire staff of about 20 or so. Have you ever seen that movie Con-Air? A few of the characters were definitely sampled straight out of that movie (not that they were criminals, but the shady/sketchy factor was just too much to ignore).

NOW: Sadly, I don’t think I was one of those 3 sane people.

THEN: I used to worry about riding my bike over there because … WHERE would I park it? I could take it in, but have to endure a barrage of questions and moving it around so it’s “out of the way”.

NOW: I am Bike-less because my bike got stolen back then, because I left it on the street (because I could never figure out where to park it).

THEN: I watched music videos on MTV & BET to pass the time waiting for the phone to ring. I used to work with some very good friends (A husband, his wife and son) who were Mexican and they got so upset that I would turn up the volume on “crap music … maaan”. In my defense, the nature of the music television channels was conducive to “crap music ... maaan” (I think that was the time when J-Lo was telling us how “REAL” she was … EVERY WEEK … and her next song was a definite reassurance that she was “REAL” … and so on and so on – each version had a different hip hop artist featured).

NOW: There are no more music videos on MTV & BET – Just some crazy people who throw each other’s clothes in the pool, and then prefer to be called Sluts & Whores but NOT liars.

THEN: I would stay awake until 5 a.m. on nights that I worked. I rarely had weekends off and I cannot remember the last time I made it to any of my 8 am classes. You know, I feel like it was all for a good reason, that I was “working” … and so in my opinion missing class was excusable (Kids, don’t do that at home … GO TO CLASS).

NOW: I try to go to bed before 11 pm… but I do still wake up at 5 a.m. to grab a quick drink of water and then go back to bed to sneak in an extra hour of sleep.

THEN: We had a disgruntled ex co-worker who came into the shop and went postal. (No guns involved, but it was still some crazy shit). I think this is around the time when this was a social phenomenon in the U.S., but it really wasn’t cool to watch. A drunken Mr. R (I would have initialed but I forgot his last name) coming into the shop and BREAKING the glass window and threatening to “choke” a delivery driver. Mr. R. was tackled to the ground – but we all felt bad (and probably thought he had a point), so we never called the cops, and he just sort of calmed down afterwards, ate some food, apologized and left.
Note: Mr. R’s threats were so empty, considering he could barely stand up and complete a single sentence. It actually took one person to restrain him.

NOW: I have two theories about this incident:

1) This was an elaborate/ innocent ploy by Mr. R. to get some free late night drunken food, and he was actually so drunk that he managed to break a window in the process.

2) This was all a production, carefully staged by my old boss. It started off so dramatic and great … but as soon as the window broke … it just fizzled to nothingness, shouldn’t that have made shit hit the fan?!

THEN: "The Deal" was way cool. "The Deal", with a neighboring TCBY store ...was very simple ... You give us free IceCream ... anytime, we give you free food ... anytime. BUT the TCBY girls weren't all "BAD". Only some of the girls would fox with "The Deal"... from our end, it was an ORDER, our boss (the owner) demanded that we participate in this Shenanigan.

NOW: Very glad "The Deal" was with TCBY, and not our other neighbors ... TACO BELL! I give you a Cheese-Steak, you give me ...ummm...Nachos?

WANTED: Men who take risks

Alright, so, I’ve been sucked into this black hole of online poker. Before you start grimacing and advising me on my gambling habits and self destructive personality traits … I should let you know that it’s entirely FREE … and it’s all in good fun. However, at stake, is a cool seat at the 2005 World Series Of Poker (the one they show on ESPN) – Which to be honest with you (and sorta humble), I KNOW I will win, and am already making arrangements for the event… you can put my words on record.

This is an 11 week promotion sponsored by Degree Men’s deodorant (which I happen to use). They got some pretty cool tag-lines, like this post’s title … and my personal favorite … DEGREE … for those ALL-IN moments.

The Way it Works:

Every Sunday, they have what they call a Sunday Qualifier. The Sunday Qualifier has about 1000 Players in it (give or take several). To make it into the Sunday Qualifier, you have to play during the week and accumulate ‘points’ that will enable you to buy into Sunday’s big tournament. The buy in for Sunday is 30 points. (Which can be collected a number of ways, but in my case, I gun for 5 hold ‘em tournament wins during the week, each giving you 6 points towards the Sunday buy in – total 30).

The top 50 Players from every Sunday qualifier move onto the big tournament in May (This is the one … this is IT, this is where they give out a FREE seat at the 2005 W.S.O.P. – Which is worth about 10,000 dollars of cash that my ass … doesn’t have).

So this past week, I was successful in accumulating 30 points and buying in for Sunday’s qualifier. I was looking forward to it, and definitely had high hopes for myself. I believe there were about 1400 players (which is an unusually high volume for Sunday, because it’s not that easy to get 30 points during the week). I ended up in 467th Place. I was of course, terribly disappointed … especially at the manner in which I was eliminated from the tournament (so so sad; I could write a book about it).

Given that it was my first bid at Sunday’s qualifier, I was definitely nervous, and didn’t know what to expect … the competition is a lot more cautious (understandably) and I wasn’t tuned to that, until it was too late. I got aggressive at times where I should have just stayed patient (which is my normal game). I felt confident in my suited couple (Q & J) … that I called someone who I thought was bluffing (and they were), they had 3 and a 7 or some ridiculousness … but somehow managed to pair up BOTH the 3 and the 7 on the flop… and to salt the wound, they got the boat with a final 3 on the river (eventhough the person had a nice flop, I managed to pull out a flush, but was devastated AGAIN come river time)
What Gives?!

Patience? I am probably one of the MOST patient people around. Just this weekend I was stuck behind an elderly gentleman walking out of a grocery store. I was very patient, waiting, slowly stepping, I didn’t want to do anything erratic like try to squeeze past the gentleman, or anything of the sort. The gentlemen's slow steps were interrupted by periods of chatter with other randoms/customers about what used to occupy this very spot they stood on circa 1940. (?!?!?!?!)

This one other time, I was also at the grocery store (a different one) and the people at the checkout line in front of me were taking forever, they kept telling the cashier… “This is two for One… This is Two for One.” And on about 3 separate occasions, the cashier had to leave her station, and go on the aisles to double check and see if the items were really “2 for 1” (they were NOT)! I did stay behind them for the whole entire ordeal, I could have just walked to another line … but I STAYED. I stayed partly because I had never seen anything like this before, this was one of the most fun “people watching” moments I’ve ever had … but I stayed mostly, because I’m patient.

I wanted to see if trying to score a free tub of “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter” would actually get you in some sort of legal trouble; or warrant an arrest at the very least … they have cops roaming around that place … sometimes it’s the Fake “Toy Cops” (as H.O.N. coined one night) … but sometimes it’s the real deal big baboons.

That’s beside the point though – Observing grocery store incidents are a good way to pass your time, but let’s get back to my poker face.

So … DRUNKcowboy512, UncleBilly, Goddfather1, El matador, MDterp, SunBlocked32 … and all the rest of you suckaz out there … I hereby VOW, to return (maybe not this coming Sunday, because I have things to do) but whichever Sunday I CHOSE to return … and knock this motha’ out.

I will keep you all updated on this.

Note: Kevopalooza was fun.

A pointless recollection ... because it's Good Friday

So if you’re not aware of this, the current season of the critically acclaimed “The Apprentice” is the show I tried out for. I actually wanted to do American Idol or Survivor, but there wasn’t a casting call and I couldn’t be bothered to send in a stupid video.

The casting call came to the city I used to live in … My roommate and I, decided that we’re going for it. After about 2 weeks of preparations that included re-writing resumes, answering their stupid questionnaire and then re-writing our resumes again, casting call day was upon us.

We knew that a lot of people would show up because people, like ourselves, had nothing better to do (including neighboring cities as well). We planned to beat the crowds by camping out overnight on the cold sidewalk; shit man; it’s a six figure salary. So we got there at about 3 a.m., my roommate (shout out to M.M.) was #12 in line, and I was #13 in line. We were already dressed for the occasion so we had to figure out how to make sleeping accommodations without compromising our dapper threads. There was no way around it.

I probably slept for 15 minutes during the whole time we were waiting; we kept getting “interrupted” by some news crew. They setup a whole extravagant lighting scheme (which was very bright) and in between her frantic chain smoking, the cute reporter would do her on-camera spiel, and then say: “Let’s talk to some of those folks.” But then the camera cut and she would go back to Smoking (?) And then again …again … this kept repeating about 4 times … and it felt like she was ‘crying wolf’.

If you’re about to get interviewed on TV, you’d hope to do a good job, so we were on guard waiting for her to just POUNCE on us out of nowhere and ask us a question. I swear, I just KNEW she was gonna do that to me out of all people. I think I caught her looking over for a second to scope out her target.

And BAM! … “Sir, what makes you think you can be the next apprentice?”

OK… first of all, even though I KNEW it … she did a stellar job in surprising me and coming with it (out of no where). Second of all, I was expecting a “hi, how are you” or some ice breaking moment … Third, I was expecting to be asked my name and shit … how am I gonna explain that on National TV, and anticipating her “follow up” questions. Fourth, I didn’t think they shine the bright stadium light right in you face as they’re about to ask you a question.

You get the picture, I basically looked like a shocked deer … but in a PANIC I said:
”Apprentice? I thought I was going for Survivor.” – what I really wanted to say was ”Apprentice? You mean this ain’t no muthafuckin’ Survivor shit … Beeyatch?”

In my opinion, that was the best way to get out of the situation, I figured I would break the ice (since she didn’t) and at 5 a.m. in the morning, I should be commended for at least TRYING to be humorous.

It didn’t fly with her … she was PISSED. She said “Ha Ha, a very funny man” (and you know when people make that ridicule/fake laughing facial expression … to let you know that you weren’t really funny). Well… she definitely hit me with one of those. And then she walked off. (?!?!?!) I don’t know for a fact, but I presume that I never made it onto the 6 a.m morning news brief. How tragic.

All this was for nothing, neither me nor my roommate (who I thought would definitely at least make it to the next round) were ever called back … I can understand, I was right out of school, very little experience … etc. (but they had that one Andy kid from Harvard … who was 21 and not all that, he eventually got decimated by the two blondies in the boardroom). Surely, I had the goods more than he did. Didn’t I? Did I?

I told you this one was pointless.

Note/ Update: “Got a Jones in ma’ Bones” – I just couldn’t decide on an intro, so I went along with ‘hypnotize’ … the first 59 seconds of the song.

Sparks Will Fly ...

Nah, this ain’t no bullshit-ass mushy love post … well … maybe, I’ll incorporate a few coded pick up lines … and maybe, just maybe, if you study it hard enough will find my hidden personal ad in this mess of words.

Late afternoon, the work day is winding down … it’s relatively quiet all around … and then all of a sudden, My computer screen starts goin’ Cadiwompus (thanks B.M.) … Blinking and shit. There’s a loud BANG! And a weird feeling of some sort of surge running through me. The next thing I hear is our beloved secretary R.S. Screaming out the top of her panic-filled lungs: “Michael, Oh My God … Michael, there’s Sparks in the Parking Lot.”

The first thing that goes through my head is: Sparks in the parking lot?!?! What the fuck is going on here. I just got dealt some nasty vibes by some jacked up, charged up electricity … and the last thing I wanna hear is “There’s Sparks in the parking lot”. .. But I sucked it up … and ran over to the window to see the sparks … Sure enough, there was a spectacular showing of yellows, reds and oranges raining down and the cold harsh asphalt… Only it was in spurts … it would Spark Spark Spark … slow down, make you think the drama is dead … and BANG, Spark Spark Spark … for about a good 30 seconds maybe more. Take That!

R.S. was a mess at this point, I thought she would collapse right there, just a look of shear shock and terror in her face. By the way, someday there will be a post dedicated ENTIRELY to the character that is R.S.

I think her main concern (and everyone else’s) was that M.D., a co-worker, was already in his car in the Parking lot, getting ready to back out. So, he had front row seats to the show … as a matter of fact, he was starring in the modasucka’. Can you imagine that? You’re just getting ready to leave, end your day; you’re looking forward to your evening and BANG! Some shit starts sparking everywhere. M.D. was unharmed; he got out the car, pointed and laughed at us fools watching out the window. (To M.D.’s credit, he waited til’ the fireworks show was over before getting out of his car …)

What just happened? Apparently some fuse reactor (?) is that even a component? Tripped up, and got a little too much lovin’... Fuse Reactor? I’ve never heard such a term … But I’ll fox with it. I suppose it’s a fuse box, but the really big ones that sit outside and power up the whole neighborhood? Or maybe it’s one of the Poles? What is the legal/ scientific name for those things? An Electricity Pole … sounds way too lame.

Looking back, I wonder why we just stood there to watch this, as opposed to reacting somehow … calling someone, getting the fuck out of the building. I think it’s this weird human fascination in us all of watching total utter destruction and chaos happen right before our eyes… Well … as long as we’re SAFE from it … and nothing makes me feel safer than a thin-ass quarter-inch piece of glass.

I guess it made my day somewhat interesting … I went through the whole day thinking it was “Ash Wednesday” … Because I know it’s good Friday coming up, so “Good Wednesday” would be too repetitive, and I figured the Wednesday before Easter must have a special name. Nope … no sir, just another boring hump day. No fun names here, gotta wait til’ Friday.

Is today Black Thursday? When is that? And I was also under the impression that ‘BLACK’ was a Monday. What gives? Are we running out of colors? Chartreuse? Burnt Sienna? Aquamarine Blue? And of course, every designer’s favorite PM-123 Spanish Orange (It works nice for Grips, Handles, treads and shit like that).

Beep,Beep ... Who got the keys to the Jeep? Vrooooooom....

So, I went through college with this very strange feeling that something wasn’t right. I’ve always felt that I could never see things well enough. I was in denial, and of course, thought I was too young to be rockin’ some spectacles. After graduation, it got worse; I got my car and started driving (JAWS theme music playing in background). I think I’m a decent driver but no one has agreed with me so far. Some of my passenger friends have expressed concern for their safety. Oh yeah?

I OBJECT! I think I’m a good driver, relatively safe, nothing too crazy … I will admit though my only downfall is that I sort of zone out/ lapse and lose my focus. As a result, I have run a few red lights (I swear, not intentionally). It just sort of happens every now and then.

Stop signs are excusable, because you can never see those things … too many trees and too many cars parked on the sidewalk. It’s much easier to run a stop sign than it is a light. So I’m not really counting stop sign runs.

I’ve been accused of Color Blindness … Color Blindness? Are you kidding me? I’m not color blind, I can SEE red and I can SEE green. Sometimes it’s just too late when I see them. I would much rather run the light than try to SLAM on my breaks and stop the car in 10 feet or less.

This actually reminds me of another incident/ story. I didn’t pass my Driver’s license exam until the second time around. Because the first time around, I supposedly “Ran the YELLOW light” … and was lectured on how YELLOW means “prepare to stop”. The lady was so whack. I know it means I should probably be stopping, but I’m going through the light at 40 mph, and it starts to turn as I’m 10 feet away from the line … I figured if I SLAM on my breaks … she would fail me anyways and say I made her feel unsafe. So I said, fuck it … I’m going for it … and yeah, she definitely failed me. (But I swear, I passed the very next day …)


I also have a serious case of “Turn it Up” syndrome …You know, if “my song” gets played on the iPod shuffle mode … I sort of stop everything, to turn up the volume and start the mini party in the Nissan. One day I was driving to work, and one of “my songs” came on, and it was the right song at the right time and I just let loose. I was in full JAM mode (But I was stuck in traffic, so I wasn’t really driving). Before long, I had an astonished audience watching me. You know, at that point, I couldn’t really stop … because that would just be too embarrassing … to stop … And then what? Look Down? Look away? Crouch under the seat? … Oh no no no … this Party wasn’t stopping anytime soon. I guess I’d rather be crazy than embarrassed on the highway.

The worst “incident” (we should start calling those things incidents) because it sort of dumbs down all the negative connotations that come about being a dumbass on the road. One morning while commuting to work, C.R. (who’s been in the car with me before) and I had a very close call.

Long story short, this was a combination of ‘Turn it up’ syndrome AND a red light … incident. Again, I didn’t see the light (not because I was singing) but because the light was on one of those short poles, so I didn’t expect it to be there. So we’re driving and C.R. slowly says “STOP”… and then it gets a bit louder “STOP”, louder and faster and PANIC ensued “STOP! STOP!”

My perspective: It’s early in the morning, and C.R. isn’t feeling my vocals … OK fucker, I heard you the first time around!

C.R.’s perspective: SLAM your brakes and stop your car you dumbass, the light is red, you’re not slowing down and there’s a big ass truck gunning for the intersection about to T-bone your precious little car.

Clearly a miscommunication. I did end up SLAMMING my brakes, went over the line (it was already too late) I was in the middle of the intersection …it was wet, I was skidding. Miraculously, that MESS was avoided. Thanks to the quick acting truck driver who is obviously a better driver than I am. I don’t even know how, but he managed to not T-bone my car. I think C.R. has never been in the car with me since that day.


And ... One time, at band camp …

Tube in, Tube.... Out

Early in the AM on Monday morning, President Bush signed an ‘emergency’ bill that will allow Terri Schiavo’s parents to seek reinsertion of the feeding tube that was removed on judge’s orders Friday afternoon. But wait, it gets better. Apparently, Bush was sleeping in the middle of the night; he woke up, signed the bill, and went back to bed. Actually, I don’t know why I mentioned that, it’s completely irrelevant. Maybe it’s the whole interrupted sleep thing (refer back to ‘The right amount of tired’).

I mean, I was bitching about waking up for a drink, or the bathroom … and here we have GeeBee’s sleep being interrupted by an “emergency bill” to feed a brain-dead Florida woman … only one of the biggest ethical news stories/questions in the world today. Maybe I wouldn’t be as bitter if my sleep was ever interrupted by things like that. It would go something like this: Mr. Nafie, could you please wake up and sign this bill to invade Korea, Iran and maybe China? … Well … Only if you throw in Russia too, clearly, the Russians have out-stepped their authority.

Ah… What gives? Is it not worst to lull the lady’s life about, and play a volleyball match with it on death’s door? I’m pretty sure withholding food from someone for 3 days violates some International Convention and could be classified as torture. Will anyone be prosecuted at the end of this? Federal judge Vs. Federal judge?

Let’s just hypothesize for a second, and suppose you withheld food from me for 3 days. (A very, very stupid thing of you to do). And then gave me the food back, and then argued about whether or not to take the food away from me AGAIN. I personally wouldn’t want that crap going on around me.
I understand the arguments of both sides, but I think they both owe it to her to come to an agreement … one way or the other. The American doctors have already ruled out that there is no hope for recovery. I think that a second opinion is definitely worthwhile.

U.S. medicine isn’t that hot anyways … I saw it on ‘Airline’ (the show about southwest). They had a kid with a brain tumor, who in the U.S. had no options and then some Australian doctor figured out how to surgically get rid of it – permanently. So it’s definitely a good idea to get a second opinion, perhaps an international team of super-doctors who would unquestionably squash any doubt (By international, I mean 12 Indians, 1 German, and 2 Chinese).

AND now, the Vatican has put their 2 cents in. Uh Oh!!! They say Schiavo’s life should be ‘spared’. Spared? This lady is not on death row, nor is she a hostage or anything like that; she is a patient at a hospital. There are very clear medical guidelines on how a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) case should usually be handled; unfortunately, this one is a little more complicated... but None of Their Business. I think the Vatican is more warranted to comment on the Michael Jackson LITTLE BOY ABUSE/ MOLESTATION trial …

So today, the judge said keep the tube out … and then the parents appealed it to a higher court … WELL, here’s an idea … It’s obvious that both sides will keep on appealing this thing … so why not just take it up to the big 9 and skip the fools in the middle … who CLEARLY, have no authority what-so-ever (according to Washington). What’s the real issue here? Are we waiting until Justice William Rehnquist regains his health?

And ... to the woman who got arrested today for trying to sneak in a bottle of water to give to Schiavo … I’m at a loss for words. I can appreciate the nobility in the gesture, but what part of FEEDING TUBE did she miss? Are you kidding me? What exactly did she plan to do with that bottle of water? Furthermore, did she think it was that simple to settle this national debate by walking into the hospice with a bottle of water?

I wish her and her family closure.

Got a Jones in Ma' Bones ...

Well, not really, my bones are well / completely healed. Thank you to all for the kind cards, cookies and flowers. So… what is the first thing to do now that I’m BACK?

St. Patrick’s Day was too momentous an occasion to make my return. So… we decided to take it easy that night (or did we?) … HOWEVER, I think Kevopalooza is the perfect event to make my reentry into the world … the world of PARTY that is.

Kevopalooza is an annual event, located in Northern New Jersey. The purpose of the event is to celebrate the birthday of K.M. or as K.M. likes to call it “The Second Annual K.M.’s Alive Festival” I missed the first (and original) Kevopalooza because I lived out in Ohio. Boo! But now that I’m back in the east coast, I will definitely be among the attendees.

I’ve been warned that this year will be intense. Let me paste K.M’s description of this thing … (and I CANNOT make this up…)

Definitely having the party on FRI March 25th at the 401! *Karaoke Machine*. And there will be an MC to introduce ALL the guests on the PA. So... gimme an MP3 or a Audio cassette, or a compact disc with a 15 to 30 second clip of your own theme music w/ a typed bio of your stats, greatest party moments, and your signature moves. For instance: I usually be rockin the Sweat Bands, callin people out in Dance offs, Spitting Beer on the Ceiling, and gettin shot down by copious amounts of chicas.
2nd Annual KMAF!

Ahem … Theme music? To be honest, I must admit that I’ve been taking this very seriously. I’ve been rifling through my iPod looking for a hot tune to make my theme/ intro music. I think the reason is because I used to watch WWF, now World Wrestling Enterprise (?) back in the day (the days of Big Daddy Cool Diesel, Razor Ramon, Undertaker, and of course, Sable – before she got fired the first time) ... and WWF was big on that, everyone had their own theme music, and you KNEW who it was before you saw them. Slick.

Any suggestions for a theme song are welcomed. Right now, the front-runner is ‘Hypnotize’ … because that’s what I do, it just is.

Typed Stats? Bio? Greatest party moments? I got that shit on Lock-Down yo. Much too crazy to discuss in what I consider a relatively public avenue (this blog). But I assure you … this is the stuff of champions. There are several ‘medal winners’, but most notable is one that involved me chasing (I mean literally, running) after a group of ‘sorority sweethearts’ … and I think they got fed up of running or finally (?) figured out that they outnumber the crazy man behind them … and decided to turn around and chase me instead. I know it sounds weird, but at the time it seemed like a good idea … AND … it was my graduation night … so surely, I’m excused. Call now…RIGHT NOW … and we WILL divulge another ‘greatest party moment’ … ABSOLUTELY FREE! (This one involves a crowded Blacksburg, VA nightspot, Parents, grandparents, and … Missy Elliott) ... but you must call RIGHT NOW.

Signature moves? This spells trouble, I said I was 'back' but I don't wanna be sent back to not being back (think about that one). No sweat, I got this on lock down too. I'm prepared to be called-out ... heck, depending on the song, I might have to call some folk out myself... (but as salt 'n' pepa would say ... Hold up, Hold up, This dance ain't for everyone ... ONLY the sexy ones).

The current plan is to drive up on Friday after work … or … if I can convince D.C. (my boss) it might be a good idea to go early afternoon on Friday to avoid NJ turnpike bullshit. So D.C. if you’re reading this … you have the opportunity to make “Good Friday” into a “Better Friday”... Make it happen ... MANIFEST the lucid dream into a reality. Catch my drift?

Depending on the extent of response (if any) I might add one more post before Friday to confirm what my theme song is/ any last minute updates. I might even decide to share my “typed stats” and bio … but we’ll see.

Sorry for the extra long weekend of not writing, I'll keep things moving a bit faster.

Holla.

Note: If you're wondering, K.M. does not make this up ...Lithuanians don't fudge the truth ... There ARE "sweat bands", "Dance-Offs" and "Cielings" ... Oh and "copious" is an everyday word.

It’s the Lil’ one and it’s not Bow-Wow

(nor Jon, nor Cease, nor Wayne, nor Flip, nor Troy nor Romeo, nor Zane, nor O, nor Blackey, nor …)

First of all, this is a very serious matter, and even though I almost always pick/prefer Foxy over Kim (The Brown Fox usually has better comebacks) … I would like to be the first to start saying: Free KIM! Free KIM!

Here’s what happened (My comments are not intended as stabs/jokes at Lil’ Kim. They are solely directed at the writing style/ choice of words of the news report … it honestly sounds like a 90+ year old grandma from Wyoming is the author – no offense to the journalist):

Grammy-winning hip-hop star Lil' Kim, known for her revealing outfits and raunchy raps, has been convicted of lying to a federal grand jury about a shootout outside a radio station. She could get 20 years - a maximum of five years for each count - when she is sentenced on June 24.

Her bigger-than-rap status was cemented in 1999 when, while presenting an MTV award wearing a pasty over one exposed breast, co-presenter Diana Ross jiggled Kim's bare flesh. (Ah yes … you know your status gets cemented when Diana Ross jiggles your bare flesh. How does this make any sense? – Oh wait … was this the TITTIE incident? Can I say TITTIE in public? BREAST? Breast breast breast Hooter Hooter Bitties (Tig Ol’ ones) Breast Tit, Breast Tit, Tit, Tit, Breast, Breast, Breast, Breast, Tit, Nipple.


As B.I.G. became a superstar, Lil' Kim became "Queen Bee," the oversexed gangsta girl in his otherwise all-male clique. Her first album, 1996's "Hard Core," lived up to its title with its sexually explicit lyrics - and became a big hit, thanks to songs like "Crush On You" and others with unmentionable titles. (Oversexed ‘gangsta’ girl? Unmentionable? Like what? “Not Tonight”? “Big Momma Thang”? “No Time”? “Spend a Lil’ Doe”? "Drugs"?… need I list the whole album? … and ‘Crush on you’ wasn’t even that big of a hit … come on now).


She won a Grammy in 2001 for her part in the hit remake of "Lady Marmalade." Now she's probably headed to prison, adding a chapter to a remarkable life that already has produced an accredited Syracuse University course titled "The Life and Times of Lil' Kim." [That’s definitely a DOWNGRADE to go from winning a Grammy to “probably heading to prison” – AND Shit … where the hell was that class where I went to school? I had to take some BULLSHIT ass freshman English course – (grade: D-)]

So perjury is apparently ‘SOME SERIOUS SHIT' possibly a “CATASTROPHE” (refer to ‘Firefightin’ fool’). But a possible jail sentence of 20 years? You’ve got to be kidding son. I think that’s some bullshit. People ‘lie’ everyday, politicians lie every day (Clinton did it in court … umm … Perjury?) The News lie everyday -- why don’t they jail their ass?

So once again, Free Kim! Let her ass go. Shit.

Do you think Fox will take some stabs at this? I don't know why I am so fascinated by all this nonsense. Don't care to know.

'nuff said.


Note: Breasts.

Firefightin' Fool!

Today, I stopped a sure fire from blazing up the town. Yes, you are reading correctly, I can cross out “Stop a Fire” from my list of things to do before I die. Come to think of it, I can also cross out “Save a few lives” – a stretch, but it can be argued.

The fire would have started in a trash can on the street. There must have been a cigarette butt or something in the trash, but all I saw was a sexy stream of smoke billowing out of the trash. It kind of looked like Beyoncé doing that “Ooh, Aahh… stop baby, drop baby … go” dance. I approached the soon-to-be towering inferno (brave huh?) and took a look inside. Sure thing, A FedEx box was slowly catching some serious fever.

Now, came the hard part … at the time, I actually classified it as a dilemma (but later elevated it to 'SOME SERIOUS SHIT). You know how the government has terror warning alerts, GREEN, YELLOW; ORANGE, RED … etc… I employ the same tactic (because it’s very EFFECTIVE!) in my everyday life. I classify every situation in terms of ‘seriousness’ and then I assign it a color corresponding with the difficulty-to-deal-with level. You with me?

Here are the code levels:

RED: CATASTROPHE
ORANGE: Some Serious Shit
YELLOW: Dilemma
GREEN: No Big Deal
BLUE: Fuck that!

My “naughty, naughty neighbor” situation (scroll down to re-experience it) is definitely a code RED.

The trash can situation is now a code ORANGE. I know it may not sound serious, as it was probably not that much of a threat. The reason I elevated it from “Dilemma” to a “Some Serious Shit” is because I didn’t know how to deal with it. There were no fire extinguishers hanging from no trees on the sidewalk. … no fire blankets… and it wasn’t raining.

I wasn’t about to stick my hand in there and pull out the smoldering FedEx ‘Small Box’. What If I got a piece of rotten Tuna Sandwich on my hand? Who would 'firefight' that shit?!?! Not to mention, I would have probably had to throw the box somewhere on the ground to stomp on it. In doing that, there was a risk of getting cited for trashing up the city. This was definitely "Some Serious Shit", no question about it.

My quick-thinking and “good” side was busy trying to solve this dilemma. My slow, lethargic, and “evil” side … was telling me to walk away and play dumb. I think the good side won … but only because I had just finished eating breakfast. WHOA! What the hell just happened, that’s right … see I’m getting Quentin Tarantino-ish on your ass. Let me explain the whole breakfast situation.

BACKGROUND: I don’t eat breakfast; I cherish my extra 30 minutes of sleep more than damn cereal, or fruit. Instead, I usually walk out of the crib with something in hand to drink (water, coffee, tea, soda, ice-tea or whatever’s available). This bottle of ‘whatever’ is very dear to me in the mornings; I usually finish the whole thing on the way to work (gives me something to do at traffic light stops).

TODAY: For some reason, I had one of those morning breakfast bar things, quick ‘meal on the go’ deals as well as a cup of tea, so I was pretty satisfied. Out of habit, I still carried a bottle of SNAPPLE diet PEACH with me when I walked out the door. (Do you see where this is going?) I felt uncomfortable carrying this bottle of Snapple with me all the while having no desire or lust for it (In a way, it felt like I was trapped in a bizarre union with this bottle, I felt guilty about throwing it away, and I felt too lazy to take it back inside).

THE ‘REVEAL’: You guessed right, my “good” side, figured out that it would be best if I pour that thing in the trash can and put out the inferno. No mess, no fuss, and no burning Rome.

I’m a bit ashamed to admit this, but this all happened so quickly, and the Action Star in me did something weird at the end of it all. I poured the Snapple in the trash can but stopped with ONE last sip left. Then I drank that last Sip, and threw the bottle in the trash can … with conviction … and I walked away. It was very Arnold, way back before he was a republican.

The symbolism in this is much too deep to discuss. The bottle, nothing but an avatar, the tea saving the trash, and then all of them become ONE. It’s also worth mentioning that there is some miraculous intervention surrounding the events of today. Clearly. WHY, out of all days, would I have something to eat/drink before I leave my apartment today?

THE SEQUEL: Someday, the bottle, the juice and the FedEx box all visit the land-fill … and … They happen to be in the same region as … The ‘MORNING START’ wrapper and the Tea Bag. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii....

I quit.


NOTE: The moral of this story? Pretty much ‘Not a Damn Thing’ … but if I was pressured for an answer, I would say that Breakfast, is very, very important.

“Are you sure that’s your name sir?”

That is a quote that I (kid you not) have heard on several phone conversations (usually with companies, credit, cell phone, insurance, etc). Umm… let me think, No I’m not sure if it’s my name … but let me look on my license just to double-check. I should also mention that I go on hold for at least 15 minutes afterwards because (I presume) people think I am prank calling them.

Say what you may … shit … I still have a cool name.

Today, it came to my attention that I have a new nickname. This is nothing new to me; I am probably one of the most nick-named/ name-joke prone people in America. My Morning Coffee mug reads: “Nafie Nafie” on one side and “Coffee Coffee” on the other (Thank you E.H. … I love that mug, and use it every single day!).

Having the same First Name and Last Name is something I’ve gotten used to. You’re vulnerable to a barrage of jokes, nicknames; yeah-ok … funny (not really) … move on. Most of them are so lame and corny, that they sorta miss the point. Come on people, you can do better than that!

To make matters a bit trickier, I usually separate “My Two … Names?” (you think I can pitch that to TV? The one with the ‘Dads’ in the title seemed to work) with my middle initial (O) for … dramatic effect. This has worked my way most of the time. In high school though, I had a teacher who coined the following joke (and thought it was the greatest thing ever):

Q: What does Nafie’s mom say to him when he’s done something bad?
A: (The whole class collectively while shaking their heads) Nafie, O. Nafie.

And in the spirit of the looming St. Patrick’s Day … When the Irish wanna claim me, they can go ahead and turn into a Nafie O’Nafie. (I know, I know, even my own name jokes are lame).


But Today Ladies and Gentlemen, Today … I heard possibly the ‘coolest’ of all “name-related-jokes”. Well, it’s not really a joke, but more like another nickname. This is so brilliant that even I, the subject … enjoy it. In fact, this is one of the smartest nicknames anyone has ever given me. All credit goes to Mr. R.M. who ironically; denies coming up with the nickname.

I thank you for your depth, provoking vision and most of all I thank you for your subtlety.

Sincerely,

- “Ditto”

Think about that one.

"Lick Me! Lick Me!"

Haha, this is one of my favorite movie quotes ever (The Exorcist). The scene was of course a very disturbing number that involved a crucifix, blood, private parts and a touch of incest (notable that it was no ordinary demon doing any of that … it was the Big D himself, Luci(pher) Goosey … in person …).

Crucifixes, Blood, Incest? Shit man ... how hot would my post be if I blabbed about all those? I’m sure your hump-day would never be the same, and though I have no doubt it would be well received, I will spare you all.

The post actually has nothing to do with that, but it does have a lot to do with another type of BIG D …(I know what you're thinking) but I'm actually talking about... Dogs. Ah, Man’s best friend, what would we do without them?

How many times have you walked down the street and a complete stranger is walking their dog … and for some ungodly reason, they think it’s totally fine to let their dog run up to you and lick you all over, and “play with you”. Ok, I think this is one of those things where I can truly say “Only in America”. I don’t even know where to begin talking about this, but I should probably start with if you own a dog, and are walking down a street, please do not assume it’s “cute” to let your shit run up on my shit. It bothers me beyond belief. Eventually you get tangled up on the leash and shit, and have to watch your step because you don’t want to step on the poor thing (it’s inevitable … happens EVERYTIME)… but you also have to watch your step because you don’t want to step on the dingle-berry they just deposited on the sidewalk.

First of all, I don’t know you, I don’t know how clean you are, I don’t know how clean your dog is and I don’t know where your dog’s snout has been. BUT … I do know that I don’t want mysterious slobber and gooey substances all over me. If I did, I would get my own dog and walk it, hug it, and maybe kiss it … or here’s another civilized concept, maybe I would approach you and your dog, not the other way around.

I also know that I am not going to get on my knees and give you a fake “Aww -- he/she is so cute, what type of dog is it”? Shouldn’t that be a hint that “I’m NOT Interested” …If I am TOTALLY silent, and take my eyes of you and your dog … Shouldn’t that be English for “No Thanks”? Wouldn’t it be “nice” of you to pull your leash and end my borderline misery and discomfort? That very statement though (“Aww -- he/she is so cute, what type of dog is it”?), is probably why this unfortunate occurrence ever exists.

To the people who like saying that statement: if you REALLY like dogs, go and get one. There are plenty of dogs that need loving homes. To the people who like hearing that statement: It’s not a cue for you to start talking about your life story, it’s a simple question, though very anti-social, a one word answer would suffice. Pug, Pomeranian, Dalmatian, Pittbull, Chihuahua, Boxer, Hound, Lab and an onslaught of other words are all acceptable answers.

You know, here’s another novel concept, Why Don’t we all go to a Dog Park … and Play there? You should KNOW for a fact that EVERYONE at a dog park, likes dogs, Isn’t allergic and is there in the first place to ‘socialize’ with dogs. People usually assume that anyone on the street is a dog fanatic.

Don't even get me started on the folk who walk their dogs without a leash because they've come to know and appreciate their dog as "The sweetest and most harmless, adorable piece of honey dew" or some shit like that. Are you kidding me?? I'm pretty sure that's illegal in 48 states ... Including the southern ones.

On a serious note, One time I saw a dog ‘bark’ at an older lady (Teeth out and all, this fucker was serious) and thankfully the owner was pulling the leash back but the Lady was still scared shitless. If it’s never happened to you, it’s neither a warm, comforting nor a fuzzy feeling to have some Intense fangs about an inch away just waiting to get a piece of that tasty skin and/or flesh ... Unfortunately, they both happen to be YOURS.

I’m not anti-dog, a lot of my friends have dogs (Yeah, this one’s kinda like the “I’m Not Racist, I have 2 black friends from college … and … and a neighbor too … That’s RIGHT!!!”). But seriously, I’m fine with dogs who I know have responsible owners (who I personally know). They get their vaccines, they’re not going to attack me, and their owners definitely won’t sue me if I accidentally step on their dog. But you Mr. or Mrs. Stranger-person on the street …You, on the other hand, are a totally different story. I wouldn’t touch you with the proverbial 10-foot pole, let alone your dog. It’s nothing personal, I’m sure you’re very nice and very normal … it’s just not my thing to fondle strangers on the street. (Ok, maybe that one time ...)

How would you feel if I ran up to you and LICKED YOU in the face? LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK … You like that?

Woof.

Side Note: Cats bother me even more, because they’re sorta more docile, but a bit more annoying they kinda stick to you and start getting all frisky and shit - and Cats always seem hornier than dogs, and they make you feel like they're trynna get some. Fish on the other hand, are totally cool.

Jesus vs. Allah

So, I meant to write about this yesterday, but as you could imagine, I was overwhelmed by the whole sleep thing. It was much too powerful to ignore.

So, the Big J and the Big A … tête à tête. Followers from both sides have quarreled for centuries, many losing their lives in the name of martyrdom and in the name of their faith. Never mind the crusades, the Spanish wars or that whole Ottoman Empire thing … this heated ‘beef’ came to fruition (and apparently settlement) on Sunday night’s episode of ‘THE CONTENDER’.

Let me start off by saying NBC’s ‘THE CONTENDER’ is a cool show, I think it does its part in bringing the sport of boxing back into everyone’s focus. Man, ever since Tyson got all crazy and started biting and shit, Boxing has suffered. However, with box office hits like ‘million dollar baby’ and a reality show entirely about boxing, it just might be the thing to get into.

Now, a little background on the show: The teams are split into East vs. West. (8 boxers on each team). Every week, two boxers, one from each team, face each other for 5 rounds in the ring, and the loser goes home. The show is touted as “The Next Great Human Drama” so every week; you get exposed to the boxers’ families, their daily struggles and their lives outside the ring.

The 2 particular boxers in discourse were the highlight of Sunday night’s episode, which I like to call "Duel of the Deities". From the West, you have Ishe Smith (A Christian, representin’ the Big J) and his Eastern counterpart, Ahmad ‘Hollywood’ Kaddour (A Muslim, representin’ the Big A).
(Note: Ahmad got his ‘Hollywood’ nickname because he made his entrance as the ‘pretty boy’ who was wearing flashy clothes)

Ishe Smith and Ahmad ‘Hollywood’ Kaddour have never liked each other. They were at each other’s throat from day one. Taunting, Shoving, Shit-talking, the whole deal. Both teams were in agreement that they would let them fight each other ASAP and get their score settled (Notable though is that last week, the WEST had a chance to make this happen and Ishe Smith wouldn’t step up, he was ‘uncomfortable’ and felt too much ‘pressure’ to take on the brash, and villain-esque Ahmad ‘Hollywood’ Kaddour).

So the episode revolved around a dramatic build up of their rivalry and disdain for one another. Ishe Smith was presented as a family man with a strong faith. His family and faith gave him the courage to face up to the challenge, after he had backed down last week and was in bad stature with his WEST teammates. Ahmad was presented as your typical arrogant sort of guy, talking smack, not really thinking before he says or does anything, and somewhat of a loose-cannon.

Now, for the punch (sorry, it’s hard not to get corny when you’re writing about boxing). Right before the fight, Ishe Smith was shown in prayer, thanking god, Jesus, and asking for strength to defeat his enemies. Ahmed, on the other hand, who was never shown in any light other than his vain and unapologetic self was shown walking down the hallway and yelling ‘Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar’ with subtitles ‘God is Great, God is Great’. This clip was run just as they were about to enter the ring.

As a viewer, the impression I got was that the show was implying that this is what the fight was about. Never mind the three weeks of absolutely loathing each other, let’s show this thing. As someone who’s watched this kind of stuff before, they could have played more warranting clips or sound bites (for example, playing a sound bite to quote each fighter saying how he’s going to win by ‘KNOCKING HIS ASS OUT’ would be more true to the nature of Ishe and Ahmad’s relationship). Throughout three weeks of bickering, never once was this about my faith vs. yours. But it sort of came off that way.

I am fully aware that those might very well be pre-fight ‘rituals’ for each of the boxers. However, this is the 3rd Boxing match of the series, and in the previous two fights, nothing ‘ritualistic’ was portrayed. It was all about “I’m gonna beat his ass, I’m here to win.” And the opposing clip “I’m more experienced, I’m quicker.” So it basically sounded like your typical interview answer set off with the pre-cursor question: “Why do you think you will win this fight?” In all fairness, this "Duel of the Deities” was too juicy for the producers to stick to your typical pre-fight taunts.

During the fight, Ahmad ‘Hollywood’ Kaddour should have been given a new nickname, Ahmad ‘Dirty Fighter’ Kaddour. He just fought dirty, got in a couple of cheap shots (after the bell) and oh yeah, at one point he gave the crowd a nice big “Fuck You’ flip off gesture. (The one that uses the whole arm curled underneath the other arm - not just that weak finger shit... so yeah, it was definitely a BIG fuck you).

Ishe Smith won by decision (3 rounds to 2). Ahmad ‘Hollywood’ Kaddour’s parting words were “Damn, even though I lost, I still look good.”

More on this, at a later date. (Maybe when a couple more deities ‘BOX’ each other … I’d like to see if VISHNU could hold a candle to Amoon-Rah).

The Right Amount of Tired

Sunday night was the best sleep I’ve had in as long as I can remember/ at least one year. Waking up on Monday, for the first time, I felt ‘satisfied’ by the amount and quality of sleep I got. Also, this was the first night I’ve slept without interruption (waking up for a drink or a bathroom visit). So what does that mean? Is this something I can recreate?

It all hit me real quick though when I woke up. I was sort of in shock, I usually wake up in the morning, and the first thing I think is how crappy my sleep was, how many times I woke up (I usually keep track) and of course an ‘estimated’ number of hours of sleep.

This however, was very different. You know when something happens, and you don’t know what just happened. The strange part is I usually remember my dreams but this was a quasi-complete-blackout, I woke up and the last thing I remember was the night before (which was nothing out of the ordinary, just some TV, relaxing, reading). I also know for SURE that I did not drink anything in the middle of the night (there was a full glass of luke-warm water still sitting beside me in the morning).

Is this a good thing? Shit Yeah, I think so. I am slightly perturbed that I don’t remember my dreams from last night, but who cares? They probably sucked anyway.

One time, I dreamt that I was at a job interview with a group of about 8 people, and the company stood everyone up, we all waited ‘til the end of the day (6pm) but no interviews had begun, and then the crowd got rough. There was a riot in the building, people breaking things, stealing things, and then some big boss decided that serving fried chicken would quell the enraged interviewees. So… we had fried chicken. Shit, I was calm, they found my currency.

There was one particular character, who I guess was some sort of feminist/ anti-corporate chic, her “STATEMENT” to the company and the world, was to eat her fried chicken and wipe here greasy hands all over her suit jacket. lol. Very Powerful.

Then there was the really ‘Serious and Dedicated’ candidate, who refused to leave the waiting room, and wouldn’t eat, and no matter what, would not compromise his 'professionalism'. This guy decided he was going to wait for his turn to interview even if it took all night. I guess he really wanted that job. Well, this guy must have conjured up notions of the class favorite/ the brown nosin’ fool. He quickly became unpopular with all 8 of us. The feminist Lady even wiped her grease laden hands on his suit jacket as payback for his totally inappropriate/ uncool behavior (and another ‘STATEMENT’, ‘WARNING’ to the corporate male... she topped it off with a decent quote: "You Suck dude")

The ‘Conspiracy Theorist’ was a super-paranoid guy. He kept going on about the Chicken being ‘laced’ with some breakthrough corporate chemical that is designed to weed-out those who need to be weeded out. (But he still ate the chicken anyways????) – This can only mean he TRULY deserved to be weeded out (and didn't know it) … or … I guess he was real confident in his ability to dodge any weed-out attempts. He must have been an engineer (they get plenty of practice in their freshman college classes).

One Chic wouldn’t get off her damn cell phone. (From her phone conversations) we discovered she lived in Baltimore, Married, 2 kids, She “Really wants this job” – and apparently has a bad ass temper. She kept saying to her “honey” how she’s “Not going to lose it”. Naturally, this put everyone on edge, and we kept waiting for the TERMINATOR 3 girl to be unleashed. Out of boredom, we held a competition amongst ourselves revolving around who could provoke her the most, and get her to flip out. The brown-noser won (unintentionally). I think he said some typical snooty remark like: “Well, maybe you should go home if you have better things to do.” BAM! … BOOYA!.... Modasucka.

In conclusion, maybe this is a good week, I’ll see if I can recreate/ retrace my Sunday. I suppose I might need to recreate the whole weekend? The week? Month? Year? How far back does this go? It would really suck if I had ONE night of such sleep, every 22 years or something of the sort.

44th year of my life … I can’t wait.

Are those bugle boy jeans you’re wearin’?

Hell nah hoe, you know they PO-LO’s.

I’ve been thinking about this because I’ve been wanting to buy a ‘cool’ pair of jeans, but the more I think about it, no jeans are really ‘cool’. I could go with Levi’s, but that’s too old-skool, maybe a little country, and at times a little feminine (I think because it’s one of those androgynous brands that makes men’s and women’s clothing).

There’s Lee … but Lee was always sort of whack. Besides, they’re not Levi’s.

Then there’s the whole ‘hip hop’ attire, Fubu, Sean John, Rocca Wear, etc… I could get those but they’re too flashy – I actually doubt they have just a normal pair of blue jeans, I think they come in black, maroon or mustard. Should normal guys be wearing jeans?

It seems that Jeans are marketed as the gear of choice for tobacco chewin’ horse straddlers, construction workers, or anyone who feels like walking down the street with their shirt off… and messy hair.

The underlying issue though is when or where I would wear jeans. Probably wouldn’t wear them at work. (Usually play the business casual game). Wouldn’t always go out with them on the weekends. (You never know, you might end up someplace with the dreaded dress-code). So that gives me about 5 hours on weekdays, and sunrise – sunset on weekends. Jeans is not ‘exercise’ gear, so you can knock any exercise time off your “Hours I would wear Jeans” time slots.

So, Why get Jeans, ever? Why not get some decent dress pants, some khaki pants, maybe even some corduroys. That way, I would have pants that I could realistically wear on more occasions. Not to mention the complexities and serious decisions that come along with getting jeans: Fitted? Regular? Boot Cut? Loose? Comfortable? Light Blue? Dark Blue? Black? Faded? … Etc.

It’s actually not worthy of such a lengthy discussion. I’ll end up buying the damn things anyway.

"The Lady Cat"

Before this goes out of my memory forever, I thought I'd immortalize it in a short few words. I saw the premiere episode of America's Next Top Model (season IV) -- The show belonged to a character named "The Lady Cat". The sister believed she was a cat, or half cat, or a re-incarnate, or something of the sort (Complete with Licking, Purring, and some instances of hissing and fang touting).

Usually, a lot of those reality contestants put on some dumbass front for show, they try to get as much airtime as possible, so ... they pull stupid shit like that. HOWEVER, I will be the first to defend 'The Lady Cat', girls and boys, I honestly think this was the REAL DEAL, the King Snake, the Bomb Baboon. This girl wasn't faking shit.

As the show progressed, and 'The Lady Cat' made it onto the next part of the competition (she also got stranger and stranger by the minute), I guess the pressure started getting to her. In a room full of aspiring models, 'The Lady Cat' decided she was going to stand up and cuss their ass out. I don’t even think she had a target, she just sorta got up, and started letting them have it (???!?!!!!?!) -- Yeah, the purring wasn't enough, and the weird cat-like gestures didn't alarm anyone, we just needed to see that extra bit of craziness in the form of the ever-so-eloquent CUSS OUT.I love it.

I have a whole new fondness for the term TLC. (The Lady Cat - for those who've had a long day).

Meow.

Planned Obsolescence: A Pain in the Ass

Ok, I had an open-ended discussion on the issue with a friend and fellow designer of mine. The issue of planned obsolescence was at the center of our heat. In plain English, Planned Obsolescence is when capital-hungry companies develop several generations of a product, and introduce the later/ more advanced version of their product at a later (and apparently ‘more advanced’) time. A good analogy is a Doctor giving medicine or vaccinating someone. It would be like having a dosed cure, and only injecting you with nominal increments of that particular ‘cure’.

This is obviously a much deeper/ multi-layered issue than I make it out to be. There are pros and cons for this but I must take issue with one particular product on the market: The Apple iPod.

Apple marketing, if by any chance you’re reading this, PAY CLOSE ATTENTION. You are on the verge of screwing up BIG TIME. For the sake of world peace, I will leave the ‘designer’ argument out of this rant. I am speaking as a consumer. I feel insulted by those people, used and you know, kind of bitter.

I 'obtained' (ok, I didn't buy it, I won it ...but I worked hard to win it) my iPod in September of 2004. I think it might have been the ‘thing’ to have way back then, the 15 GB iPod. (Retail value was about $300.00+) In the 6 months that have passed since, Apple has managed to ‘unveil’ about 6 newer generations of the iPod. Each of those 6 is an improved version of the previous one (the mini iPods, the normal ones with more memory, the ‘dock’, the shuffle feature, the one with the pictures) etc. etc. 6 Months guys? Are you kidding me? To add insult to injury, they are playing this sick and twisted price game, where each ‘new’ product is priced the same as the ‘old’ crappy one, and the ‘old’ crappy one, goes down a substantial percentage in price.

Apple is fortunate and can get away with this because their particular product in question is truly a winner. I complain and I write this, but I am still very happy with my iPod (and I hear it’s a ‘classic’ that you can’t find anywhere else now…haha, that’s right). I do however think they pushed it too far, and to those of us who get green with envy at the slightest thing; too far, might be too much.

Apple may have won this battle, the iPod is a HOT product, and they can probably keep doing this for a while but in the long run (Apple Marketing, You still there?) they will end up losing what little brand loyalists they had. To a consumer, it’s a fundamental question: Why would I go spend a boat load of money on a company’s trendy/ technologically ‘hip’ product, when I’ve had first hand experience that I’m putting all this money on a soon-to-be Has-Been?

I do commend them for not changing the name or adding Version 1.0, 2.0 or anything of the sort … or.... making any drastic design changes … all iPods kinda sorta look alike (Smart move … ) so ... it’s cool, I can walk down the street and still pretend that I’m rockin’ a 60GB.

More on the topic, at a later date.

Side Note/ Tip: Hey, Do you think you’ll ever make some sort of IR communication system on the iPods, where I can ‘beam’ a song over to a fellow iPod user and vice versa? That would be hot man.

Naughty, Naughty Neighbor

Ok, maybe not so much naughty (got that in for alliteration purposes) but more like ANNOYING as fuck. Ok, this fucker, whom we shall name Kevin, because I think that’s his name, is a piece of work.

Let me rewind to the day I was signing my lease. I was over at the rental office taking care of the bureaucratic crap that goes along with signing a lease (which includes a detail check of my credit report -- I’m surprised I got the place). So Stacy, the property manager, is as any property manager does. Saying the right things, joking around, smiling, telling me things to make me excited about the place which include statements like:

- We have hardwood floors that we just restored, they’re really quite something.
- There’s PLENTY of parking on the street (that was a lie)
- Some of my staff lives in the building. You’ll meet Kevin, he might strike you as odd, but I promise you he’s Harmless.

Ok, I should have paid more attention to that last statement. I don’t want to be told that my neighbor is ‘harmless’, that’s just a red flag indicating that something isn’t right with the motherfucker. That’s an understatement. Kevin lives in the apartment below mine, and complains that I ‘make too much noise – Really? How so? I don’t play music, I don’t bunny hop around my apartment, I don’t Build Shelves around my apartment (apparently, this is his hobby; the sound of power tools is one I’ve grown accustomed to). I don’t even use an alarm. I think I am the quietest neighbor to ever exist. One day, I get a call from Miss Stacy (property manager) saying that there’s been complaints about me that she needed to address. My level of "noise-making" is unacceptable and I am in breech of my lease contract and in danger of getting evicted. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight …. That’s something I like to hear ... everyday, actually.

So, Stacy tells me that she wants to resolve this peacefully (because I usually like to resolve petty matters in a way that yields the most bloodshed, sorrow and grief). Her investigation-less verdict is that I should go and BUY carpet, and put it on my hardwood floors (that she used to sell me the fucking dump in the first place). She ‘recommends’ that the carpet covers at least 75% of the floor. Aww, that makes me sad :( , my pretty wooden floors have to get covered - I could really care less what floor I walk on.

So I said to Miss Stacy, that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to resolve it, I also asked her if they provided carpeting, I would not mind living in a carpeted apartment (thinking that as a rental property, they would go ahead and do what's 'necessary' to their rental units), her answer was NO, go out and buy some. Ok, so I go out and use MY OWN MONEY to buy a fucking rug, I had to buy 2 to ensure that 75% of the floor is covered (put them side by side, it doesn’t look as tacky as it sounds).

So fast forward, the carpet is in. My annoying neighbor-related woes are coming to an end, right? Wrong. Apparently, I am STILL being too loud. I get a visit from my beloved neighbor at least twice a week, asking me the most random shit like “Did you fall out of your bed last night? Because I heard a really loud THUMP, and was worried.” You were worried? Not only do I have an annoying and untruthful neighbor, but one who masters the art of being a passive aggressive bastard. You fucking cunt.

On another occasion, while I was watching TV, he knocked on my door, and said “Oh, I heard you building something and I was curious what you were building.” Ummm, I was building a medieval catapult, with the wheels and all.

I am now accustomed to Mr. Kevin knocking on my apartment and telling me some bullshit while he’s really complaining that I’m loud. Thankfully, this has not gotten to Stacy’s level again (or maybe it has, but I don’t think she can do anything now that I’ve carpeted my floor). Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a very shady, shady, sketchy character.

I’m probably over it, and just have to keep the peace by answering the door and acting like I appreciate the fact that this dufus is worried about me falling off my bed in the middle of the night. (Who the hell falls off their bed in the middle of the night?)

Doji De Doji De Doji De Dot Dot

So I feel compelled to explain my choice of background for this blog deal thing. I'll be the first to admit that it's borderline migrain-inducing.

First off, picking a name for this blog wasn't as easy as you may think. I mean, the 'Cool' Blog names I thought of were mostly taken, kinda like trying to buy the domain www.hotshit.com or something (Don't Click on that, I really don't know what's on there). Being the designer-type, I then went into what I like to call meticulous mode, you know, the whole Analyze, Simplify, Summarize and POW-punch you in the mf'in face. I basically decided that I would like to make this about my experiences and observations of everyday life in the U.S.A. (my own and others, that's right people, no one is safe).

A little background about me, I came to this country in 1999 to start my Freshman year at college. I've been here since and got slapped with the proverbial 'Americanization' (which to every other culture is best understood as a sort of lazy 'what is the quickest way I can say this and/or abbreviate). My friends from 'yonder even accuse me of speaking with a 'yank' accent. Bla Bla, I'm rambling, but long story short, I've been here for a little over 5 years now. The term culture shock is a good way to describe how I felt (and still sometimes feel) about the whole thing. I grew up in a different culture, but in a way I also grew up here, in terms of my adult life. I've had all my 'major' adult milestones (except but a few) here.

I like to think I'm a pretty diverse fella'. Different audiences, different loves, so I'll consciously try to appeal to all my friends, but first and foremost I'm gonna say what I need to say. If that includes a really long ramble about how frustrating it is to apply modern manufacturing techniques to environmentally friendly materials (while minimizing cost); or Whether or not I think that Russian boy should be kicked off American Idol, I hope it's all relatable. (The Russian definitely NEEDS to GO).

Oh, my first exposure to this whole blog culture was through a random blog spot run by a girl in NY. I read a few of her posts and was instantly hooked. I'm very particular about grammar, vocab and most of all subject matter, and this girl was nothing short of stellar in all 3 departments. So I got into it and was participating, commenting, etc. and decided that I have way more time than I thought, so (under some pressure/influence/advice) I decided i'd give it a shot. So... what the heck, here's the shot.

Oh... before I forget, my 'EXPLANATION' for the whole dot thing. I felt the visual chaos from the dots best represented the idea of culture shock, and the whole otha' kind of chaos that comes with that. Metaphorically speaking, we're all dots, sometimes I like to observe another dot and other times it's about the big fat dot that is yours truly.

Holla atcha' boy.