1,000 words

You know what? It’s been a long time coming and it’s about time I ‘comment’ on this particular observation I’ve been having.

There are certain people in this world (you know who you are)… who walk around with an extra appendage; an extremity that most of us ‘normal’ people, aren’t so blessed to have. Being competitive in nature, I would normally be jealous or envious – of course, who wouldn’t? However, I’m also a relatively reasonable guy and my feelings of jealousy and envy have been overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of normalcy.

Yes, these certain people in this world (you know who you are) have seemed to cheat the evolutionary process and grow a fucking camera dangling alongside their hand. I just want to say that you are all bordering the entitlement: absolute freak shows. I wish you could take a picture of yourselves doing this.

For one, I hate carrying stuff on me. I hate carrying cash in my pockets, I hate carrying my keys, I hate carrying my wallet and I hate carrying my cell phone, I do it all because I know I have to (except for the cell phone, sometimes I’ll just leave that in the car). Given the fact that if I had it my way, I would even re-consider eliminating having to ‘carry’ the clothes I’m wearing; surely everyone understands when I say I don’t understand how people can carry a curs-ed camera everywhere they go.

We all know that it doesn’t stop at ‘carrying’. Fuck no, they’re not crazy … only crazy people carry cameras and don’t use them. These people use them and they use them like there’s no tomorrow. They love taking pictures of random things, anything they come across. For example, they will take a picture of the road (the SAME road they already have 1423 pictures of) every single time they walk passed it.

Maybe all this is with good reason, I might have missed something and need to start catching up on my “taking pictures of everything”. “Hey look! Dog over there taking a shit… SNAP!” … “OH look! man crossing the street … SNAP!” – “Hey! There’s a blue car … SNAP!” Are you fucking kidding me? Some of those pictures are useless. Why do you feel the need to take so many goddam erroneous pictures? Please stop it. Please.

People who like to take pictures of everything obviously leave nothing to the imagination (provided it existed in the first place, I’m even willing to argue a lack of it). They want the ‘PROOF’, specific visual proof that they just witnessed whatever it was they witnessed. I of course, am the complete opposite; I cherish the rarity in the one-time visual or occurrence, otherwise …. Doesn’t it all just get boring?

I can understand and appreciate the sentimental merit of taking pictures of family or friends at any given occasion, or just anytime not necessarily being an occasion – I’ll also accept a moment of candor, or an offbeat/ funny image. But for fuck’s sake stop taking pictures of a dead bird on the sidewalk or some spilled ice cream scoop (although, I think spilled ice cream scoops would fall under ‘offbeat/ funny’ only because as children, we’ve all experienced how disastrous and devastating it can be to drop the ice cream from the cone – I’ll accept it).

I realize that there are professional photographers who do this for a living. Fine, understandable. I also realize that there are avid ‘amateurs’ who are interested in photography as a hobby or whatever. Fine, that’s also understandable … oh wait, no it's not. Is it possible to take a cue from the "professionals" and be selective about your photographs? What exactly do we all plan on doing with these pictures? How many times are you going to photograph the most unimportant and uninteresting event happening on any street?

Oh look! …Happy Friday … take a picture of that. SNAP!

Note: 180 on the topic, I want to mention serious props to M.I.A. for keeping it real to Sri-Lanka. "From Congo to Colombo, ya can’t stereotype her thing Yo. She bongo with her lingo, she salt and pepper her mango" … and … does it all on top of a big fat elephant (possibly worthy of a picture).
addendum: Today is Glass.

Permitscuous Guy

So it’s confession time. I’ve done something bad and I feel it’s time for me to come clean and admit it … for the sake of freeing up my conscience for the next thing. I’m not particularly losing sleep over this, but it’s bothered me for a while.

I’m a procrastinator (that’s not the confession). I’ve changed jobs and moved (you know what) about a year ago. I STILL have my (you know what) license plates (that’s not the confession). Come to think of it, I never switched over to (you know what) either; as the law told me I should have (you know how long) after moving there (that’s not the confession).

I basically have (you know what) plates, but I've only (you know what) there for about 3 days after buying my car. VA DMV folks are convenient, you can renew your registration and all over the phone, they’ll even mail it to your (you know what) address, with new stickers for your license plates. So I did that because I hate the DMV (that’s not the confession) and did not want to go through the drama (or minor financial blows) of (you know what) my title, registration and plates over.

As I write this, I’m suddenly filled with an overwhelming worry about this patriot act thing … can I be prosecuted for “(you know what)”? If so, then I’ve just screwed myself with a confession, presumably admissible in court. In that case, I have this to say: THIS STORY IS FICTIONAL AND 100% UNTRUE, I am a sick, sick individual who imagines things (that’s not the confession).

There, who needs a lawyer anyways? Back to the story. There is this CITY-wide thing. Every car in the city has a yellow ‘city parking permit’ that will save you from some serious ticketing efforts if you’re parked anywhere in the city between 8 am and 6 pm. If you don’t have a yellow city parking permit you’re permitted to park for 2 hours during that time period, but no more.

You need to show that you live in the City to obtain this parking permit. No problem, I took my lease over and got the parking permit. The thing is, since I was a (you know what), I only got a ‘temporary’ parking permit good for 2 months, because I’m supposed to (you know what) my (you know what), and I would then be able to get a permanent one. The funny thing about temporary parking permits is that they are the ‘bastard child’ of the normal parking permits. They’re not even given the respect or decency of printing your license plate number on them. Instead, your license plate number is hand-written on the temporary parking permit along with a hand-written expiration date.

Do we all know where this is going? Damn right – After the silly date of 10/05/04 or something close to then was upon us, my parking permit was ‘technically’ invalid. Today’s date is (you know what). I have not had a single parking ticket or any parking drama. WHY? Because thank god someone invented sharpies (and a really powerful solvent which I must acknowledge because otherwise I would not have been able to remove the 4 from 04). Oh, and a ‘thank you’ to clear scotch tape, definitely the most useful of all the useless office supplies.

So yes, I (you know what) the parking permit to continue my convenient and DMV-less life (the ‘official’ confession).

Another reason why I’m bringing this up is because it’s starting to catch up with me. You see, because of the extreme heat everyone’s been experiencing recently, my shenanigans are at risk of being exposed. The heat has somehow FADED the original writing (which apparently wasn’t written in permanent marker) and the ‘5’ I wrote with the permanent sharpie, is still black as the night. Shady, shady, shady. Perhaps it’s time for a permit face-lift.

I will acknowledge that this is not postsecret material. It is however, worthy of a lesser honor such as ... oh ... a first date or something.

Thank you all for tuning in to my fictional story. I hope you enjoyed it. I also really hope that a big blockbuster director gets a hold of this screenplay and adapts it into next summer’s big line-up. My only requests/ reservations revolve around casting. Here are my prerequisites:

- The “main character” is played by someone insanely and sickeningly cool
- The city clerk is played by Mo’nique
- The ‘evil’ cop checking permits is played by Jerry Seinfeld
- The crabby old man that deters everyone from the DMV is played by Mann

Note: Coming up is a post about a “slight dilemma” and one reason why I haven’t (you know what) everything over at the new DMV -- Warning: embarrassing story. Today: Steel.

No Laughing Matter

Speaking of gas and all, I just remembered a very funny story. We’ll entitle this one “Running on Empty”.

K.M. was out one night and got himself extremely intoxicated. So intoxicated almost to the point of a blackout, where not much was clear and he didn’t really know why he felt that way. On the (safe) ride home, Dan was running out of gas while K.M. was in the passenger seat. The following conversation occurred:

Dan: Dude, we’re on E
K.M.: (SHOCKED and worried that he’d finally figured out why he feels so terrible) We Aaaare??!

Which nicely brings us onto today’s topic, comedy. As a movie genre, I think comedies are the lamest of the lame. Not quite sure why, it’s probably because I’ve rarely found comedies to be funny. In a literal sense, I don’t laugh while watching (most) comedies. I can’t think of the last comedy I truly enjoyed, Not Another Teen Movie stands out because of its spoofy nature. That’s it; I enjoy spoofy stuff that pokes fun of things I’ve seen. The Scary Movie trilogy was also OK because I’ve seen all the horror movies they spoof.

For one, I think that comedies are extremely subjective. Which means the terms “blockbuster comedy” and “hit comedy” are both farces. I’ve found that it’s quite hard to get people to agree on the funniness of a comedy. I never rush to see a comedy and almost always wait until they’re out on video, better yet; I wait until they’re on cable. Comedies just doesn’t seem to be worth the 10 dollars as let’s say, something like ….oh… The Skeleton Key would be (Am I going to get an invite to the premiere for relentlessly linking to that movie despite Kate Hudson starring in it)???

I also don’t find Will Ferrell as funny as the rest of the world thinks he is. What’s so funny? I must have missed something. Tall man who’s ALWAYS out-of-place acting goofy … OK, we fucking get it. I will say that the prison scene in Starsky and Hutch (terrible movie) was the funniest I’ve ever seen Will Ferrell. Even when he was on SNL, I thought he was just OK (Horatio Sanz is by far the funniest SNL personality, He doesn’t even need to speak … just show up).

Adam Sandler is another disaster. Nothing funny about him, I’m beginning to suspect he has a speech impediment because he uses the same, lame affected voice/ accent in all his movies. Ben Stiller is OK. He’s capitalized on his un-cool appearance by always playing the over zealous “trying too hard” role. He’s had some very funny roles. Rob Schneider is also worth a mention, in a good way.

I would talk about Martin Lawrence but his dumbass doesn’t really star in comedies. He’s a comedian that stars in action movies or unintentional comedies to add some humor. Not surprisingly, he’s always playing the Black man who doesn’t know what to do with a gun, and for some reason that’s ‘funny’. Martin is “Martin” (funny TV show) in all his movie roles.

As for the females, well… I think it goes without saying that there’s a serious shortage of female comediennes in movies when certain comedies settle for J-Lo in the starring role. J-Lo was EXCELLENT in “In Living Color,” her best work yet.

It should also go without mention that I despise the “racial comedies”. You know the drill, take a white guy or girl and put their ass in “the hood” … You’re guaranteed a scene in the club where the white guy makes an ass out of himself (and then miraculously garners the support and admiration of the thuggish hip hop crowd) which in turn leads to their black co-stars FINALLY “appreciating” them and we have the equivalent of racial-comedic world peace. Give me a fucking break.

Now, what happens when you get the ‘serious’ actors doing comedy? A disaster. The formula is equally as lame as that of the racial-comedy; they poke fun at their own ‘seriousness’ and go through the entire movie as if playing themselves.

I will say that I’m more likely to laugh during horror movies. Again, I’m not sure why but I think it’s me subconsciously breaking the ‘tension’ by laughing at myself (and how affected I am by the events unfolding). I also laugh when other people react by screaming, or yelling their “oh my gods” or breaking out into full prayer. My favorite was when I watched The Village in theatres, we were sitting in a row full of high school students (about 14 or so) and EVERY single minute was a co-ed scream fest (even though the movie wasn’t really ‘scary’?)

I saw an online trailer for Deuce Bigelow: European Gigolo, despite today’s post I’m very excited about this movie as I thought the first one was great. Maybe I’ll shell out 10 dollars to see it, but only if I can walk to the theatre because you know, walking is good for you.

Note: Comedy on television is much better with the likes of Dave Chappelle running the show. Today: Steel

A Pain in the Gass

I’ve been trying not to mention this subject for quite some time. I can try no more and I’m just going to let this one out for all time’s sake.

I’m fucking broke. I am broker than a gigolo at dyke-fest. WHY am I so broke? I work relatively hard, day in and day out … 40 hours each week and yet I’m still broke. I’m so broke, (insert ‘yo mama joke’ punchline here). There, I’m THAT fucking broke.

I’m so broke; I’ve even lost my (coveted) “Sugar Daddy” title at work. The secretary (RS) is quite demanding when it comes to the vending machine … and I can no longer support her mid-day coke habit (she actually drinks Pepsi … but ‘coke habit’ has a nicer ring to it).

I don’t understand why I’m so broke though; I don’t pay my bills (because I don’t open my mail). I pay my rent and that’s the only major expense that I can think of. I’ve taken stock of my lifestyle to see where all my money’s going … and I think I’ve figured it out. Fucking gas.

The reason why I’ve been trying to avoid this subject is I’ve always been one of those self-righteous assholes who thinks if you can’t afford the gas, don’t fucking drive… walk your fat ass or try some public trans. We all know about karma (karma will make internet sluts steal the self-made pants you love) and it’s a BIA. I take back everything I’ve ever said about people who complain about gas prices, as a matter of fact; I’m joining the motherfuckers.

This little issue I have is understandably magnified during the summertime. Of course I roll around blasting my AC like I’m Sheikh Fuckhead, like I own an oil field or two. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t own jack shit. I USED to own a pair of cool headphones that broke last week (moment of silence please).

It’ll cost me an average of $36.00 to fill up my tank. I usually do this once a week, sometimes twice, depending on the situation. My personal theory is we’re all getting duped on the gas. They’re definitely adding water to that shit or some trickery of the sort. Gas stations clerks don’t throw out that silly smirk when you pull out your credit for nothing, it’s their plan and they hope to see you again sooner than you hope to see them.

The frustrating thing about gas stations is that it’s a business. There’s always that ONE gas station that sells gas at a cheaper price (when I say cheaper, I mean an ENTIRE 2 cents or so)than its competitors. Sure enough, that gas station is ALWAYS miles away and getting to it alone will rid you of a cool quarter tank so it’s basically a useless endeavor.

Being someone who doesn’t stand for oppression, I want to find a solution. Viva La Resistance! and all … but this has got to end. If this post gets to Bush or anyone of his trusted men and black woman (for Google purposes, will explain soon), I want to know WHEN would the US be able to invade another country and cheapen the oil? Better yet, I’d like to know WHICH country the US could invade to accomplish this for my convenience?

Saudi Arabia? I say take their ass out.
Qatar? Lots of natural gas, but still … take their ass out
Kuwait? Well … you should have let Saddam do it for you
Bahrain? It would make a nice swimming pool too, I say take ‘em out.
UAE? Take the oil, but let them keep the nice hotel.
Oman? Don’t know about the oil, but they have good cattle … take ‘em out.

Do it soon, as it seems this weather isn’t getting any cooler.

If anyone wishes to present me with an argument stating I should consider a hybrid gas-electric vehicle …I have two things to say:

1) I kind of started out even broker than I am now (Ramen noodle style), so I had to settle for a cheapie gas-guzzler, wouldn’t be able to afford a hybrid.
2) Hybrids get the shitty end of the deal when people behind them lose focus due to that one, precious sip of coffee.

On the plus side (there’s a plus side to everything), I am more focused when I buy gas. In the past, I would buy gas and then walk into the gas mart and buy all kinds of other shit because you know, I guess I had the money to spare. Nowadays I pay at the pump or just aim straight for the cashier counter, not even the little sweet Ho-Hos in front of the counter are enough to tempt me. It has indeed become, a wondrous world.

Note: I've also been forced to improve my parallel parking skills, a 12turn parking job can get quite taxing on the gas gauge. Today: Steel

This is a Mann’s world

Sometimes, during what I consider the early morning hours, my posts can get a little bit messy. Typos, grammatical fiascos and god knows what else. The worst though is when I see people misspell titles and that’s something that bothers me beyond belief. Titles should NEVER be misspelled, for fuck’s sake it’s only about three or four words … Try to concentrate REAL hard and just get all four of them right.

By now you probably know that I’m a political pansy. I shy away from most political discussion out of sheer disinterest. I should say that my shyness shouldn’t be mistaken for inability to throw down politically; the disinterest is mostly pertinent to what others have to say. Because you see, I do follow politics to some extent, online and other media.

For one, no one would take any political discussion of mine seriously. This is especially true when I refer to a person as “that fucking bastard”.

There are figures in the media surrounding the political arena that slowly claw their way out of the mess that is politics on television, and into a bigger shit hole that is Culture Shock and everyone knows what happens in a shit hole, you simply get shat on.

Perhaps I should start a tradition aptly named “The Shit Hole”. This will be where I get to metaphorically put someone in the shit hole, and let him or her have it (IT in this situation is a merciless, vulgar and classless unleashing).

Today’s subject, the first personality in “The Shit Hole” is someone who’s been pushing their luck with me for quite some time. For sentimental reasons, I wanted to make this a memorable one. Without further a due, I present to you the first victim of Culture Shock’s “The Shit Hole” … Ann Coulter.

Ann Coulter, a.k.a. “Ms. Right” (according to TIME) and a.k.a. Mann according to me. THAT FUCKING BASTARD! Don’t believe me? Look for yourself.

Where do I even begin with Mann? I don’t really know, I suppose an introduction would be a good start (for those of you who might not know who I’m talking about). Mann, once a lawyer, is basically an author who writes the most superfluous, unfounded, reactionary garbage in supplement to the political world. HE frequents many political TV shows, but mainly ones on FOX … so…

Why am I even writing about Mann? He’s obviously a nobody who uses controversial means to fill some sick attention complex (hmmm, sounds a little too familiar for comfort). In my defense, I don’t go around writing books and having book signings and trash talking on everybody that ever walked the earth (I only do MOST people, not ‘everybody’). I’m content with not being loathed by an alarming number of millions.

Mann doesn’t like ‘liberals’. The thing is, Mann’s definition of a liberal is basically anyone who has an opinion contradicting his own boring and prudish beliefs. Mann’s latest stunt is the attack on how unreliable Supreme Court nominee John Roberts is as a conservative judge. Mann goes on to comment:

Finally, let's ponder the fact that Roberts has gone through 50 years on this planet without ever saying anything controversial. That's just unnatural.

Unnatural? Are you fucking kidding me? Oh yeah? From over here it looks like Mann’s gone through 70 years on this planet with lots of botox and face work. THAT is just unnatural. Mann’s been controversial the whole time but look where it got him, on FOX. For fuck’s sake Corey Clark made it on FOX (and while he was at it, got to sleep with Paula Abdul).

In conclusion, Mann is kinda whack.

Note: This post was inspired by This link. (thanks to TFL). Today: Steel

Strange Fruit

Apart from being one of my absolute all time favorite songs, Strange Fruit is the subject for today.

Out of sheer respect, I’ll start out by talking about the actual song (by now you know that this post will have nothing to do with “strange fruit”, the song). Without sounding like an obsessive fan, that’s certainly the most compelling use of 3 minutes and 33 seconds I’ve ever heard. Historically, Of course, Lewis Allen wrote the lyrics and it was first jammed out by Billie Holiday in 1939. The year is particularly important to mention, especially for anyone who might not immediately get the impact this song had/ has.

I personally prefer a much later Nina Simone version, but nonetheless, it’s a HOT song.

So… Apple sucks. I can’t for the life of me understand why they’re even all over the market like they are. I have been saying this for many years and have gotten into several discussions/ arguments over it.

It’s somewhat gratifying to see that designers can make and maintain a behemoth corporation such as Apple. Let’s not kid ourselves, they have designers cranking out hot-looking products … and…. that’s about it. My question is WHERE is the “cross-functional” presence in that company? It’s not really a question because I’m confident that I know the answer:

Engineering: Hi, we’re the Apple engineers. We like to engineer things that break, quite easily actually. We like to devise batteries that die/ self-destruct. Last but not least, is everyone’s favorite; we like to engineer hard-drives that also die with no apparent cause.

Marketing: Hi, we’re the Apple marketers. We like to market things that break easy. THANK GOD for our hot designers because otherwise, we wouldn’t quite know what to market. We love to appeal to the market of people with active lifestyles. The best part is that the products we market are very fragile and cannot really endure an active lifestyle.

Support: Hi, we’re the Apple support team. We FIX everything, and man, are we busy. We’re definitely the BUSIEST people in the company. Things are always being sent back, but don’t stress over paying our salaries Mr. Steve Jobs. You see; we’re REALLY good at charging customers practically the same dollar amount that it cost them to get the damn thing. Ever heard of stores doing a 2 for 1 special? Ha! We figured out how to reverse that and give ‘em 1 for 2.

Sales: Hi, We’re the Apple sales reps. Yes indeed, we are the frontline of this shenanigan and are usually placed in situations where we have to deal with IRATE customers who come into our stores and cuss like mad people. However, we’re so numb to it by now, that we’ve developed some thick skin, thick skin with really, really sharp quills. You see, we get testy and condescending, and try to convince the customer that they actually dropped their iPod. Despite having several customers complaining at once, we will STILL insist on telling our customers that these OTHER customers don’t have issues with their products.

I kid, I kid, it’s Friday and I ain’t ‘bout to hate that much. Serious props to the Apple designers though…actually; nothing happened to MY iPod, I’m sort of writing this on behalf of someone else which is perhaps why this can be classified as a PG post. After all, I might get some free accessories out of this whole incident.

Happy Friday.

Note: Venus Williams was in town on Wednesday night and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Today: Glass

Two Stories: Volume I

It’s a Thursday and it feels like a Friday and that can’t be a good thing. However, in the spirit of hard-working taxpayers (and materialistic assholes) we shall all trudge along and take it as it comes.

I was undecided on what exactly to discuss on this Thursday morning. So I did what any self-respecting indecisive tool would do … a tribute to Quentin Tarantino. The motherfucker is weird, undeniably talented but weird. He is so random, and coming from me that’s some serious shit. My tribute is in the form of two stories (well, it’s more due to the indecisiveness… but play along). I will leave it up to your imaginations to “connect” the two stories and make of them what you wish. The randomness of this is what led to the Tarantino tribute, so I guess to enhance the tribute you can picture FEET as I recall this story. Have at it folks.


The Thing

The first of the two stories, “The Thing” is about something. I got a big day ahead of me today. BIG, big day and I cannot say why. It’s FAR too embarrassing even for ME to admit. So perhaps we should leave it at that. I will say that when it’s all over and done with, I MIGHT consider bringing it up in the near future as by that point, it’ll be so-yesterday and I can laugh at it. But no one’s laughing right now. No No No (in fact, I feel that I’m displaying remarkable resolve and courage by sitting here and even posting today… I should have just gone in hibernation for however-long-this-THING-thing will take).

This THING has been haunting me for about 2 years now (I cannot make this stuff up). It’s been an absolute nightmare. I can HONESTLY say that this THING has been on my mind way too much for comfort. Yeah, it’s definitely one of those things.

The end.



No Pants Attached

Ah, the second story, this was jogged into my feeble memory just last night but I absolutely love this story, so I hope the ‘subject’ either:

A) Doesn’t read this
B) Doesn’t get mad at me if they happen to read it

No names, no initials to preserve the anonymity of this person (it’s NOT Chris a.k.a C.R.).

This story is about my friend. My friend is a (self-proclaimed) Jack-of-All-Trades. Co-worker T.H. would chime in and adjust the title to (also self-proclaimed) Jackass-of-All-Trades.
My friend likes to do many, many things. He is always interested in new things and is the type who will ‘try anything once’. So in this particular instance, anything happens to be tailoring. My presumption is that he thought it was so fascinating to transform this flat, boring piece of fabric into an interesting, wearable garment.

Typing “my friend” is a bit extraneous, so from here on out I will refer to him as M.F. (not to be confused with motherfucker). MF made a pair of pants. He was so proud of them; he wore them in public and actually approached people and let them know he made his own pants. I guess that gets some points in the commendable department, sure, why not.

The pants were cool, they were black, and looked store bought. I would definitely have to admit that he did a good job on tailoring his own pants for being a first-timer. Granted, he DID wear them almost everyday and NEVER let you forget the fact that he made his own pants.

Long story short, MF was also horny. WHY then, would you go on Washington D.C. craigslist in search of some NSA fun? Scratch that, that’s understandable. So MF meets a girl on the Internet, invites her to his place, they hit it off for the night and …
I get a surprisingly calm and collected call the next morning:

”Hey, so I think the girl from the Internet STOLE my pants – I can’t find them anywhere.”

Forget Tarantino, if you could have seen how attached he was to those pants, this would be right up there with the Shakespearean tragedies. Furthermore, I’ve mentioned before that Craigslist is a disaster. I doubt there is a single ‘normal’ person on Craigslist. Not one, all you’ll find is weird people who will lay you and steel the pants that you worked so hard to make. Life is indeed unfortunate.

The End.

Note: There’ll hopefully be a more coherent Volume 2 sequel to this post. For now, I got BIG things to do. Today: Glasss

Minimization: A Corporate Treasure

Orbitz (dot) com has been on my mind recently. I’ve heard a lot of mixed reactions about the company, mostly negative which is why I used (dot) and denied them the pleasure of a link. I know, how ruthless of me. The reason they have been on my mind is not particularly because of their (self-proclaimed) “Great Low Fares” – because in all honesty, I’ve found LOWER fairs on www.travelocity.com and of course the workingman’s favorite www.southwest.com.

So what could possess me to dedicate my Wednesday morning to these folks? I’ll tell you, it’s their (normally annoying) pop-up ad campaign. I love it. If you’ve never had the pleasure, Orbitz’s ad campaign consists of a series of interactive games that pop up when you visit certain sites. It’s quite illusive and I don’t know how to get it on-demand but I’ve had the most luck getting those games when I visit CNN (dot) com. I hate CNN, but again… the only reason I go there is so I can get my damn Orbitz game to pop-up.

The most common game that pops up is a 3-hole golf course. This one is fun; the aim is to direct your swing using your mouse and eventually CLICK to release the shot (which coincidentally takes you to the Orbitz website, but fret not … it only happens once, you can close their site afterwards).

The first hole, a par 2, is in the shape of an airplane. This is the easiest course and the hole is make-able in ONE shot.

The second hole, a par 3, is in the shape of a hotel. This is the hardest holes as there are cavities in the hotel representing the rooms, these cavities have arrows in them which could very possibly cause your ball to go astray. Normally, doable in the allotted 3 attempts but quite frequently you’ll get it in 2 shots.

The third hole, a par 2, is in the shape of a car. There are no physical barriers in between the ball and the hole yet this is a difficult course. I have always needed the two attempts to drop the ball in this hole. The reason is because there’s a patch/ an area of (apparently) sand with arrows going everywhere. If your ball goes in this area, you’re stuck in the sand. This leaves a very small window for you to release the ball and still avoid the sand.

The hockey game WOULD have been my least favorite (but there’s also baseball, so…).
The hockey game is pretty basic, there’s a lame goalkeeper careening from side to side while you attempt to direct the puck (with your mouse) and take the shot by clicking (again, a one time direction to Orbitz’s website). Sounds pretty lame huh? Well not exactly … you see, there’s a bunch of ‘protesters’ behind the goal and it’s possible (and encouraged) to hit them with the hockey puck. When you knock these people down, you get a bunch of cash as bonus.

Last is the dumbass baseball game. Truly uninspiring, lame, no added bonuses and you just click and aim for good timing. Hmm, I wonder why even stupid interactive computer baseball games suck? Could it be because the real sport sucks? I would definitely have to accept that as a viable explanation.

The Orbitz games are good for 5 minutes of fun. Some of them can be a little addictive, so if you check CNN at work, and happen to get a pop-up of golf or hockey, it’ll be terribly difficult to just close the window and LOSE that potential 5 minutes of entertainment.

So here’s what I do … ‘MINIMIZE IT’. We’ve all seen the marijuana campaign slogan, LEGALIZE it, on T-Shirts, caps etc …I’m hereby claiming this new corporate tomfoolery anthem ‘MINIMIZE it’. This would be applicable to personal email, porn sites (if you’re daring and sort of stupid), BLOGS (ahem… go ahead, MINIMIZE it) and last but not least, interactive games by opportunistic E-resell companies.

MINIMIZE it is not for your average pot-smoker though, there’s an ‘art’ that comes with it. You have your non work-related window open on TOP of something work-related, so when the boss walks by, you … what? MINIMIZE it. Say it one more time, what? MINIMIZE it. Preach it one last time, what? MINIMIZE it. Again for the folks who missed it, what? MINIMIZE it.

Note: WHEN will the damn web-based email companies catch on and start giving us interfaces that look like a Solidworks window or any Adobe program, Microsoft office, or even just a series of (fake) HIGH PRIORITY email messages? You know, as if the world is about to END (and you’re right there to stop it) but secretly, all you’re really trying to do is clean up your inbox from it’s LEVITRA overflow.
Today: Glass

This Just In ...

Sorry, I couldn't help but give those of you who have NOT put in a 'MINIMIZE IT' order something to think about. Here is the logo for 'MINIMIZE IT' (Ok fine, I was a little bored ... no orbitz games popped up today so I had to find another vice for my 5 minutes of entertainment). Think about it. Long and hard. And what? MINIMIZE IT.

Bullshit Bingo

First of all, I’m already done reading Harry Potter and sadly, Hermione dies in the book. SOMEONE put a spell on Harry that made him turn evil and caused him to ‘off’ poor Hermione. Sorry, no seventh book to follow.

Okay, so yet again I sat through a painfully uninspiring meeting at work. I should have known that was coming since they offered ‘free lunch’. I appreciate the gesture; I was born in the early morning, but not today. ‘FREE LUNCH’ denotes a far more surreptitious motive (there goes my virginity). There are only two possibilities (getting pretty good at this):

1) The meeting is to shorten a major company-wide deadline (say what?), therefore (already crossed out), you can forget about taking your vacation anytime soon.

2) The meeting is going to be long, uninteresting and well… kinda long.

I’ve already mentioned the high-tech teleconference system (the mother of all words) we have at work. To recap, it picks up EVERYTHING, every little smirk, fart or burp. The senior director who usually runs these meetings even encourages (not a bad one) note passing as opposed to whispers. Passing notes is so passé (for the fortune 50 folk) in a second grade sort of way … and most of the time it’s “EVIDENCE” as you can’t really get up and snatch the paper back when your intended recipient gives you that evil, blackmail smile as they neatly fold the paper and put it in their pocket.

Fine, I’m not passing any more notes; instead I’ve reconnected (yup, cross this one out) with an old love of mine. For those of us who think outside of the box (MY GOD, this is the lottery) meeting entertainment is a serious issue. Luckily, I have harnessed (oops, I did it again) plenty of experience from my previous job and have re-discovered (yeah baby) the sweetness that is BULLSHIT BINGO!

Many of you might be familiar with bullshit bingo. The premise (got it!) is simple; you go into the meeting with a ‘game card’ consisting of a grid of words. They can be words specific to your industry (a sure bet) or a much more generic (has crept up occasionally) set of words that is still applicable (100% guaranteed) throughout corporate America. The aim is to check off each block when you hear these words during the meeting. When you get five blocks horizontally, vertically, or diagonally, stand up and shout BULLSHIT!!

Of course every self-respecting, employed and materialistic asshole would not crudely stand up and shout BULLSHIT. No sir, I much prefer looking at every individual in the room and smiling like I just found cheap rent in hell. The bonus (a bullshit bingo MUST) is that everyone would have noticed your immersion (this is a good one too) in ‘something’, feverishly taking that pen to a piece of paper. When you look up at them and smile, they are left wondering WHAT THE HELL you wrote about them, or how you drew them.

It’s imperative (10, 9, 8…) that you don’t share the secret of bullshit bingo to anyone other than your close circle of co-workers. It’s actually a pretty fun collaborative (ooooh) endeavor (aaaaah) when you have a group where each person has a variation on the words in the bingo grid. Perhaps even go as far as putting lunch on the line as a prize for the first person that successfully gets a word Bingo.

Give it a shot, this website has a good word randomizer, some nice variations (BULLSHIT!)

Note: I was ONE word away from blocking out my entire grid. No one said ‘synergy’. By now you know that I am highly competitive, and don’t really like losing … so I did what any self-respecting, competitive asshole would do: “Paul, I’m worried that due to distance and time differences and such, some of the groups you assigned might be at a slight disadvantage as far as synergy and cohesiveness.” – I then quickly checked off synergy and smiled at Paul like he’s just told me the greatest thing I had ever heard (I don’t remember what he said). Today: Glass

Oh Yes it’s Ladies Fight

And the feeling's right, Oh yes it's ladies fight …Oh what a fight (oh what a fight). So if you hear any noise, it ain't the boys, it's ladies fight. (I’m of course quoting Kool & The Gang, not Kim).

Forget paying all that money for pay per view and watching Mike Tyson sit down and not want to get up and continue (for fuck’s sake he should have bitten another ear off or something … what a weak way to go out). I say no more boxing on pay per view; let’s get some more entertainment up in here.

Granted, it’s not pay per view material and most girl fights are “one of a kind” because it’s un-lady like to throw down and have it all televised. I feel that girl fights are the most enjoyable form of LIVE entertainment. It’s almost like catching a once in a lifetime, rare live concert of one of your favorite artists doing something they “don’t normally do”. (Picture Bob Marley on Opera).

I can’t speak for everyone, but my personal thought after witnessing a girl fight is: “Is there ANYTHING I could have done to fuel the fire and encourage all hell to break loose?” (Provided it’s “all in good fun” and no one is seriously hurt … physically that is, don’t particularly have a soft spot for the ‘emotional’ hurt).

One time I saw a really bizarre girl fight. It was right outside of a college joint; I think it was called “The Warehouse” then (it was one of those places that changed named every six months). This one was unusual because most girl fights have a setup … a head-bopping, hair tying, jewelry hiding period where the fighters get into battle mode - yet this one didn't. We shall classify this one as an “ambush”.

So people are filtering out, clearing the place up and BAM. Patricia strikes. In a remarkable display of ferocious and lethal stealth, she just takes it to Annie. It was somewhat of a weak first strike, the equivalent of a sucker-punch. Nonetheless, the damage was done. Before Annie could realize what had just happened, Patricia had ripped out a handful of her braids and was waving them as “battle trophy”. I would imagine that impromptu coiffeur procedure to have been terribly painful.

A small scuffle ensued and eventually the good and kindhearted people around separated the two ladies (at the expense of drunken entertainment … WHAT?). I won’t discuss the reason for this ‘fight’ (because I don’t really remember the exact reason) but it was eventually settled judicially where both ladies had to remain 1,000 feet from each other. In a small town that basically meant; ‘show up at the club at noon’ because you know, otherwise you’d be violating a judge issued restraining order.’

I also motion to bring forth Claire vs. Dina … by far the most gruesome (and coolest, most action-packed) girl fight I’ve seen.

This one had the mother of all setups. It was WEEKS of tension building up, until they both finally decided that the best way to settle it was to swing (NICE!). Like two prizefighters, the date was set and the days until the big night were passing effortlessly (except for the pesky exams in between). Come to think of it, there should have been some promotional shit going around considering the extent of ‘history’ this battle had… I’m talking the whole deal, posters, flyers, emails and maybe even run a betting spread.

Dina had made a reputation for herself of being this “bad girl” who would just stop at nothing to get her way. I understand she had been in several fights before and done some damage, I didn’t really know her but I guess she would classify into the “bully” category. Claire was a quiet, girl next-door type with a somewhat rare wild side. This fight had all the makings of David Vs. Goliath (minus all the testosterone).

The big night was upon us and the (bored?) masses came in numbers to witness the settlement of that year’s saga that was “Claire Vs. Dina”. Both ladies had a cheering crowd and ‘extras’ in case any of their opponent’s friends “interfered”

Sensibly, both ladies had dressed down for the occasion. They started with reasonable distance in between them and as they walked towards each other, their profanity filled opinions of one another got louder and louder, they walked faster and faster and when they finally faced off…

Dina made the mistake of pulling a penknife on Claire (I CANNOT make this stuff up). Looking back that was an idiotic move, because it triggered a SERIOUS adrenaline jolt in Claire’s system… Fight or Flight and Clair chose to fight and prefaced it all with: ”No Knives, Bitch.”

Out of sheer visible shock (and the adrenaline) Claire turned into THE INCREDIBLE HULK and absolutely demolished this girl. I have NEVER seen anyone receive such a hellacious and MERCILESS beating. It was a massacre. By the end of the 5-minute ‘beat-down’ Claire was holding Dina by her ponytail and GRINDING her face on the rough asphalt road back and forth, side to side. Blood everywhere, screeches, screams, ‘please stop’s and ‘I’m sorry’s could and would not stop Claire.

In hindsight, I guess not too many people were fond of Dina, or maybe they just wanted to see her downfall … but most of the crowd let Claire handle her biz before stopping them and handle her biz she did, like a true lady’s supposed to.

Note: I also wanted to include Layla Vs. Somaya (two older ladies who were our neighbors where I was growing up)… this one was verbal and never escalated but it was sheer poetry (complete with rhymes and all). I can't think of something that exemplifies “lost in translation” better than that incident.
Today: GLASS

On The Radio

Radio is kind of whack man. I don’t really listen to radio but in recent weeks I’ve been tuning in. The main reason is that I get discouraged from connecting (and subsequently disconnecting) my iPod from my car during my short drive to work. I basically get to listen to about 17 minutes of radio per day.

Though short and somewhat swift, the 17 minutes could not be more disastrous or damaging.

Every single radio show host sounds like a moron and their co-hosts sound like even bigger jackasses than they do. Newsflash, if you’re on radio … you’re sort of ugly otherwise your ass would have been on TV … no?

Let’s take a look at some of my ‘favorite’ local radio stations.

100.3 “The Beat” – What a LAME and unoriginal name, how many stations share the name ”The Beat” in this country? This radio station is dedicated to “the hottest hip-hop and R&B.” They’ve tirelessly drilled that into my cerebral cortex, and OK … I fucking get it.

My beef with these people is on the drive back home. They feel the need to advertise that they’re “the hottest hip-hop and R&B” station with a (seriously, LOUD) emergency squad siren in the background. Who is the dumb intern that came up with that idea? I’m willing to bet that MOST people ONLY listen to the radio while they’re driving … so why not, go ahead and distract them with sirens; it’s safe and all. I obviously never know when there’s a “real” emergency vehicle and every time their stupid commercial comes on, I slam on my brakes and pray to not get T-boned as I pass an intersection.

96.5 “The Wire” (the lame name game) This one is not even worth stopping on while browsing. Yesterday, I had to leave work on several occasions, EVERY single time I was in the car and turned to this station they played the same song. I guess it’s a new single by Lola entitled “No Strings”. Here’s the chorus to this song:

Baby, let's have sex
No strings attached
Real good sex
Baby, I need to relax
I don't even know you
And I don't care
Cause, you've got what I want
And I want all you got
Come on baby, let's do it right here

Ok, so lyrically, it’s somewhat racy … understood but why do you have to play it so many times over and brag about it like a 15 year old who just found a playboy?!?!

Furthermore, I’m not entirely sure if this was 96.5 “The Wire” or the equally lame “Q102” (see below) – but one of those two radio stations were talking about a scientist who produced all this evidence that “fat girls have smaller brains than skinny girls”. Every (self-proclaimed) fat girl with a GPA above 3.5 called in and expressed her “pissed-off-ness” at Dr. Psycho’s theories.

Of course a discussion about radio wouldn’t be complete without mention of the generically un-hip 102.1 FM “Q102” ….“home of music” . This is the most played out p.o.s. station there is. It seems like there's a "Q102" in every city in the US, and I don't understand why. For starters, it’s 2005 and why do this station’s DJs think it’s cool to play Fabulous Ft. Tamia – Can’t Let You Go (2000)? That song is old as fucking dirt, and it’s not even a classic.

The award for WORST morning radio show goes to these guys. 'Chio in the morning' is so boring and along with his sidekick Lisa, they make up the lamest duo on radio. They’re so typical and everything they do revolves around abusing their (DUMBASS) intern “Diego”.

They do this thing called “War of the Roses” where they test your mate’s loyalty by basically calling a suspected adulterer and offering them free flowers. With their partner secretly listening in, they wait to 'bust' them if the suspected cheater ever dares to send the flowers to someone else, other than their partner. You know, because this thing works everyday and people who listen are oblivious to the fact that normal people don’t call and offer free flowers … just lame and boring idiots.

During one of my trips out of work though, I heard the worst of the worst (it just keeps getting worst, so bare with me while I label everything as "The Worst"). Q102 had a correspondent in the “blistering heat”. She had a thermometer and two subjects; a Black man and a White man. Their goal was to prove a hypothesis that “Black men heat up more than White men”. HOW FUCKING COOOOOOOOOL IS THAT … DUUUUUDE??

We all know that ALL radio stations boast about having “18 jams in a row” – this is a complete farce. It’s more like two songs in a row (usually the Black Eyed Peas followed by Mariah Carey) and then we have to listen to (in the hosts’ annoying non-commercially appealing voice) “the best solution for unsightly hair … SONA, hair removal, Trust me it WORKED for me.” Oh really? Must be why you’re still stuck on Radio.

IPod MAAAAN ... to the rescue!

Happy Friday.

Note: I guess if I had a gun to my head and was FORCED to pick one of those radio stations, I would pick 100.3 “The Beat”. They at least play NEW music, they actually HAVE industry connections. For example, just yesterday on the drive home (right after the annoying SIREN commercial) they played Lil’ Kim’s new single “Shut Up Bitch”. I guess it was her goodbye single before going to jail. It’s good to see the Queen Bee taking it all in jest and go out swinging by including lyrics like “I heard she’s going to jail, I heard she’s out on bail” and “Why she got her nose fixed? Why she got bigger tits?”
Today: Steel

Cop Out

Sorry, I can’t write today either … psych.

I’ve been meaning to complain about this forever. I live in a decent part of town, probably the nicest part short of living out in the suburban Boondocks. It’s cool, there’s a decent amount of stuff to do, the ‘hip’ hang out night-spots (I’m still trying to figure this one out) are ‘supposedly’ a block away from where I live. There’s no shortage of young and dumb people (myself excluded, of course) in this area.

It’s a predominantly yuppie urban settlement I should say. It seems that everyone leaves around the same time and comes home at similar times. For example, I ALWAYS come home at the EXACT same time as the girl who’s rocking her designer fashion but is driving a shitty car. Forget the SHIT mobile … this thing is a piece of work (not the one I described in my previous post when someone tried to sell my car), but it’s definitely a close second.

That’s beside the point; I guess I just wanted to introduce this character because she will be having her own SPECIAL on Culture Shock in an upcoming post.

So, the point is WHY do so many cops live in my neighborhood? I feel safe and all (I guess, in a non-Rodney King or Amadou Diallo sort of way) but shouldn’t these people live out in the suburb? It’s intimidating enough to fight the commoners for a parking spot, I don’t need the scenario where some motherfucker can hold a grudge and ticket your ass for taking their spot. They’re EVERYWHERE, on my street and on every adjacent side street (I also didn’t know they were allowed to “take” their police cars home).

Maybe I’m being territorial or over-reacting, I mean cops are people too, right? They just carry guns and sticks and shit like that. I guess I could learn to live with that.
Fine, I’ll learn to live with cops as my neighbors … I’ll just keep going on my merry, stress-free way, walking to the store or pharmacy or whatever.

FUCK NO! That ain’t happening. These guys bring their dogs home. They walk them everywhere and just leave them out in balconies. German Shepherds are some mean looking motherfuckers. The Police German Shepherds are even worse, because they’re TRAINED to growl at people who look suspicious and well, I am quite possibly the most suspicious-looking person in this Brady Bunch of a city. The cat with the canary in his mouth, the fat kid with his hand in the cookie jar, whatever reference you want to make … I done did it!!!!

Any given day is National German Shepherd Parade day. Get your protective armor, flack jackets and “bad boy spray” … incase some shit goes down on your way to buy milk.
(The Bad Boy Spray is L.M.’s concoction to control the dog, Theo. It’s a mixture of water and vinegar and is the stuff of Genius, just put it in a spray bottle and spray away. Even if the dog is being good, just chase them with it … you know, if you’re real cruel and unusual).

I should mention the reason why this is so fresh in my memory that it’s today’s subject on Culture Shock. I was having the worst serving day I have ever had (maybe 6 or so first serves during an entire 2 set match) … and I blame the dogs. They intimidate me. They bark, they stare they suck. I think they know it too, the tennis courts are right next to COP-CENTRAL, a group of 6 houses that I presume is occupied by our men and women of the law. These people have barbecues and stuff all the time, and well … co-workers are always invited to your barbecue, right? So any minute gathering yields no less than the entire Police Car squad of the North East United States … worry not though, they’re all getting fatter with beer and hot dogs.

Come to think about it, I don’t have any friends who are cops. Maybe, my friend Brandon (who started out in the same major) switched majors and decided to pursue his passion of becoming a Police officer. Since graduation, I have lost touch, so perhaps I DO know a police officer. That should say something, If I don’t know any cops then they’re probably anti-social and un-cool people. I could be wrong, but remember, I know a Personal Trainer (shout out to the Swiss Miss), a Doctor-in-training (Hong Kong in the house), An Ornithologist (yeah, look that one up, Beeyatch), and many, many more, but no COPS.

Assholes (aside from Brandon, and other potentially cool cops).

Note: I still won, 6-0 in the second but my opponent was experiencing a slight mental breakdown. I guess I should just be glad (my OTHER racquet) didn’t get smashed to pieces out of frustration.Today: Steel

Non-intel-lectual Healing

(is something that's good for me ... )

I figured it would only be just to write an extra long post since there was none yesterday.

I was completely useless during my half-day of work but it was surprisingly eventful. I’ve already mentioned the thing about co-workers being doctors in disguise. This one woman (administrative assistant) diagnosed me with a sinus infection and homegirl then went on to recommend antibiotics. Antibiotics? Can you write me a prescription while you’re at it… and also, do you thinks you can hook me up with some Morphine (I’ll also accept Percocets) … you know, for the pain.

You mostly get the friendly “try this” or “this works for me” but I think a straight up DIAGNOSIS (with prescription suggestions) is some serious shit. I think I’ll just stick to Nyquil for now. These people are just trying to help, and I appreciate it. When not giving you a full-on medical diagnosis (with prescription suggestions), co-workers will bombard you with home remedy solutions. Ah yes, the pharmacy in disguise as a kitchen, bathroom, cleaning closet and god knows what the fuck else. In light of my situation, I received an email that highlights these home remedies. Let’s take a look:

Headaches: Drinking two glasses of Gatorade can relieve headache pain almost immediately -- without the unpleasant side effects caused by traditional "pain relievers." Why is this home remedy quantified like such? Doesn’t Gatorade come in a bottle …who pours Gatorade in a glass before drinking it? So how many bottles are TWO GLASSES?!!?!?

Burns: Colgate toothpaste makes an excellent salve for burns. Yes – JUST Colgate … forget the other 23781263782534 brands of toothpaste.

Stuffy Nose: Before you head to the drugstore for a high-priced inhaler filled with mysterious chemicals, try chewing on a couple of curiously strong Altoids peppermints. They'll clear up your stuffed nose. Altoids = high-priced overpowering stuff with mysterious chemicals.

Achy Muscles: Achy muscles from a bout of the flu? Mix 1 Tablespoon of horseradish in 1 cup of olive oil. Let the mixture sit for 30 minutes, then apply it as a massage oil, for instant relief for aching muscles. Relieved muscles at the expense of your social life - FOREVER. God forbid your stinky ass from going out in public after you do this.

Sore Throat: Just mix 1/4 cup of vinegar with 1/4 cup of honey and take 1 tablespoon six times a day. The vinegar kills the bacteria. That's some nasty soundin' shit! I think I would just rather go ahead and die from un-curable soar throat syndrome.

Urinary Tract Infections: Just dissolve two Alka-Seltzer tablets in a glass of water and drink it at the onset of the symptoms. Alka-Seltzer begins eliminating urinary tract infections almost instantly -- even though the product was never been advertised for this use. I’m sure the Alka-Seltzer folks have caught onto this and gave up the chance to include YET ANOTHER use for Alka-Seltzer. Next Up: Alka-Seltzer Cancer eliminating formula.

Pimples: Cover the blemish with a dab of honey and place a Band-Aid over it. Honey kills the bacteria, keeps the skin sterile, and speeds healing. Works overnight. Hmmm…what’s better? A pimple … or a FACE FULL OF FLIES and every other honey-lovin’ creep out there.

Toenail Fungus: Get rid of unsightly toenail fungus by soaking your toes in Listerine mouthwash. The powerful antiseptic leaves your toenails looking healthy again. Can I just wear socks all day?

Easy Eyeglass Protection: To prevent the screws in eyeglasses from loosening, apply a small drop of Maybelline Crystal Clear nail polish to the threads of the screws before tightening them. Again, because Revlon’s clear nail polish sucks for this purpose.

Rust: Forget those expensive rust removers, just saturate an abrasive sponge with Coca Cola and scrub the rust stain. The phosphoric acid in the coke is what gets the job done. I never understood the point of people who try to scrub away rust. It’s useless and you should just throw it out. Guess that makes me a plastic kinda guy.

Bugs and insects: (Cleaning liquid that doubles as bug killer) If menacing bees, wasps, hornets, or yellow jackets get in your home and you can't find the insecticide, try a spray of Formula 409. Insects drop to the ground instantly. Thanks Mr. Obvious – What the fuck will not “drop to the ground instantly” after getting sprayed by Formula 409??

Smart splinter remover: Just pour a drop of Elmer's Glue-All over the splinter, let dry, and peel the dried glue off the skin. The splinter sticks to the dried glue. I prefer digging it out with a sharp blade. No blood, no satisfaction. It’s much quicker as Elmer’s glue takes about 24 hours to dry (it even says it on the package).

Boil Cure: Cover the boil with Hunt's tomato paste as a compress. The acids from the tomatoes soothe the pain and bring the boil to a head. What the hell is a boil?

Balm for Broken Blisters: To disinfect a broken blister, dab on a few drops of Listerine... a powerful antiseptic. Sorry, finished all my Listerine on my toenail fungus...I kinda have big feet.

Heal Bruises: Soak a cotton ball in Heinz white vinegar and apply it to the bruise for 1 hour. The vinegar reduces the blueness and speeds up the healing process. Sorry, no more Vinegar either because it turns out that I enjoy the taste of Vinegar and Honey.

Kill Fleas Instantly: Dawn dish washing liquid does the trick. Add a few drops to your dog's bath and shampoo the animal thoroughly. Rinse well to avoid skin irritations. Goodbye fleas. Better yet is GOODBYE dog … throw the damn critter out the house.

Rainy Day Cure for Dog Odor: Next time your dog comes in from the rain, simply wipe down the animal with Bounce or any dryer sheet, instantly making your dog smell springtime fresh. The next time your dog goes out in the rain, don’t let its smelly ass back in. Who wants their dog smelling Springtime Fresh?!

Eliminate Ear Mites: All it takes is a few drops of Wesson corn oil in your cat's ear. Massage it in, and then clean with a cotton ball. Repeat daily for 3 days. The oil soothes the cat's skin, smothers the mites, and accelerates healing. These home remedies are so brand-loyal. Mazola will cause your cat to choke on its own hairballs.

For Fast Pain Relief: It's not for breakfast anymore! Mix 2 cups of Quaker Oats and 1 cup of water in a bowl and warm in the microwave for 1 minute, cool slightly, and apply the mixture to your hands for soothing relief from arthritis pain. No scientific explanation for this one? When this dries, it will potentially be the worst looking case of false skin fungus ever.

So there it was. I must admit that I did consider the Altoids thing to clear up my stuffy nose. I couldn’t find Altoids, which was probably good because being the type of person I am (I believe that if you DOUBLE the dose, you get better in HALF the time … it works, trust me) I would definitely abuse this remedy. A couple of mints in my book = A couple of cans.

If anyone has any of the above situations to deal with, please go ahead and try the corresponding remedies and share the results. I’m particularly curious about the sore throat thing. I’ll let you know if the Altoids work, if nothing else I can at least guarantee myself minty-fresh breath for 212 days.

Note: I saw a preview for "The Island" - not quite sure what to think yet. I haven't seen a new movie in a while because they all look like they suck. I was holding out all summer until "The Skeleton Key" comes out ... but might have to make this exception.
Today: Steel

Another Tough Tuesday

Unfortunately today's post has been postponed to tomorrow. I can't really write anything --Sorry.

Note: My immune system has a terrible memory - Shit seems to have already forgotten how to deal with stuff, and it's only been a week. Today: Steel

StripTease: The Strip Club

There were big stakes riding on this past weekend after my Thursday night ordeal. Had the weekend been terrible, I would have compulsively sworn-off going out and taken up something more low-key, such as knitting.

After a couple of weeks of absence, I went down to Washington D.C. hoping that the nation’s capital can save me from a self-imposed lifetime of knitting during my weekends. I’ve obviously been out in DC before and it really is hit-or-miss, depending on the situation.

Long story short, I won’t be knitting (not yet at least). A great Friday night (shout out to the NOVA/BLACKSBURG crew) was followed up with a better (well, depending on how you define ‘better’) Saturday night (shout out to Baltimore), which in turn was followed by a long sleep-in on Sunday (shout out to DC again). Sundays were made for sleep, at least for those of us who are content with hell and don’t wish to go and get ‘saved’.

The title of the post was inspired by the events that took place in Baltimore, MD. Contrary to what it suggests, there were no strippers, poles or paradise rooms (I initially wanted to make my three P’s reference … Poles, Paradise/Private rooms and instead of the third P, I chose to refer to it as “strippers” because it’s Monday).

There was however, a place that I have now re-named “The Strip Club.” The reason is because this place is the narrowest place I’ve ever seen. It’s basically a strip/ aisle way connecting an entrance and an exit. There is a bar on one side of the aisle way, and some tables on the other side. The place was great.

The tease is that there’s obviously nowhere to dance but the music was hot. One song after the other was stellar and I’ve never seen so many people just dance in one spot or dance in their seats. Oh, and they close at 1 a.m. If it weren’t for those two minor inconveniences, this place would get a ‘10’ … it’s going to have to settle for an (impressive) 8.

In other news, Karma is doing it’s nasty on me. For the record (to the person up there) I was kidding when I said I preferred my inability to smell due to acute bronchitis to the smell outside on my street. I didn’t really mean that literally … and didn’t think you would take my sense of smell … AGAIN! Give it back already. I’ll smell anything you want me to.
I’m not about to go ahead and claim this as “I’m Sick” yet… It would struggle for believability and have to beg for credibility. Besides, there aren’t enough alarming symptoms to warrant a diagnosis from google. I’m sucking it up and headed to work.

Note: I know it’s sort of old news now, but in memoriam of Luther Vandross, I dedicated my drive’s listening to figuring out what my all-time favorite Luther Vandross song is. The answer is: Never Too Much.
Today: Glass

A Gentleman Doesn't Kiss and Hell

Well, I guess this is goodbye. This is my last post since I just found out (last night) that I will indeed be GOING TO HELL. It's been a fun ride.

I was originally going to entitle this post “The Email” but then LAST NIGHT happened. I guess you could say the overall theme behind the post has evolved into a rant about courtship, the lengths people go through, and the reactions they get. Let me give you a friend’s story before telling you my own. I don’t know why I’m even writing when I should be inquiring about apartments in HELL. There's no major setup for this, they met through a mutual friend at some function, went on a couple of dates, they’re in different places in their lives … no big deal, right?

I should also say that his motives were very innocent (regardless of what you think of the content). It was all one big ploy to get her attention. Without further delay, I give to you …

“The Email” (I cannot make this stuff up)

Subject: Capturing moments

Have you ever been on a hike and seen someone trying to capture the moment of ever-changing nature. Maybe in the fall when the leaves are changing or in the spring when the flowers are blooming and there's this person painting away trying to seize this beautiful moment in time. Now imagine this painter nude, hair blowing in the wind, butt clinched together as a chilling wind flows over their body sending a pulse racing shiver from head to toe. I have no clue where this is going but I would like to go get a drink with you some time this week if you are going to be around. Let me know

Against extreme insistance on my behalf, he sent that email anyway. I should leave it at that (oh, it’s been 3 days and counting … he has yet to get a response to that there poetry). We'll leave it at that.



I don’t like divulging too many details, as I believe some things should remain ‘One of a Kind’. We went out last night (a group of 4 guys) and went to this joint where a jazz band was playing. Once inside, we all scattered and everyone had a STORY by the end of the night. Without further delay, I give to you ….

"My own (SADDER) story" (I cannot make this stuff up)

We were talking and somehow religion came up. This chick felt it was cool to tell me that I was going to hell because I have not been “Saved” (it gets so much better). SAVED? Saved by what? Those Vodka cranberries you’ve been sloshing down all night? Or do you mean Jesus? You dumbass, who the fuck meets people in public and tells them they’re going to hell!?!?

I’m patient … but I still should have called it a night right then and there. Unfortunately, I always have to remind myself to RAISE MY FUCKING STANDARDS. I think a nice addition to that would be to inform such idiots that I have just raised my standards (and tell them exactly WHY) … I seriously pity the next girl who comes at me with something stupid. I must admit that I sort of stuck around in this situation to give me some content to write about. I definitely did get my content at the expense of my Thursday evening.

It turns out that STUPID is 'engaged' to a JEWISH man. That’s fucking great! And you just told me I was going to hell because I haven’t been ‘saved’. What exactly are you planning here? Are you just going to bring up the whole HELL conversation with your ‘fiancé’ AFTER he marries you?

I also found out that she has a kid. No big deal, kids are cool. However, I do feel sorry for this kid. The kid is 12 years old and has (what seems like) a train wreck for a single mother.

Then came the 'best friend'. STUPID introduces me to her 'best friend'. What a DISASTER that was. She introduced us and then whispered in my ear: “I love her but if I was you I would watch my wallet, don’t keep it in your back pocket” – that’s also fucking great, absolutely charming! A pocket-picker for a best friend. I'm envious of the great company you keep … remember to invite them to your house-warming party in HEAVEN.

What a waste of Jazz music. Not entirely though, because STUPID had something to say about that too. The band was doing their thing and people were standing in front of them and dancing and letting them know that they appreciated the music. BUT NO! That was not cool with STUPID, she proclaims “These people are fucking idiots, they don’t know how to appreciate Jazz music, and Jazz is not meant to be danced to.” DUMBASS, don’t get all elitist and shit, it’s just a small joint, a small band and people having fun.

I wasn’t going to include this, but what the heck: I am now convinced that the inside matches the outside ... the bitch was ugly as sin anyways.

Happy Friday.

Note: I can't gather up the exact details about last night's experiences from the other 3 guys, I remember them being funny and just as ridicule-able as mine. Off the top of my head, my friend was talking to a girl with two daughters. One was 5, the other was 6. He was (extremely) turned off when she told him that she loves her 5 year old and not the 6 year old because the latter is “FUCKING DUMB”.
Today: Glass

Nafie Nafie’s Nose Knows

How’s that one for a tongue twister. How’s that one for a tongue twister.

In only my first week after I have regained 100% of my previously ill health I’m regretting it already. Despite my comeback, these days I’m being forced to look back and say “Ah, remember when I had Acute Bronchitis … those were the days”. Yes, I hated the acute bronchitis and yes I hated not being able to taste anything and yes I hated not being able to smell anything but all of those inconveniences pale in comparison to what I’m going through right now.

You see, when I couldn’t smell I didn’t have to worry about smelling foul and offensive stuff, I just had to worry about not being able to smell things I like, such as food. Now that I can smell EVERYTHING again, I was forced to take stock of what’s important in my smell library. Along with the appetizing aroma of grilled chicken or steak and roasted garlic, I get to smell this strange odor coming from I-don’t-know-where.

Let’s cut the sugar coat, it smells like shit. I’m talking literal, FECES, kids in the pool; Uncle Hanky type deal … this smell is just absolutely HORRENDOUS. It hits me when I walk from my car to my apartment. My guess is that it’s something on the street, most likely to do with the summertime. There are some patches of bushes right outside my place and I’m beginning to wonder if the fertilizer used for those bushes is actually DUNG (you know, because we live in the 1800s).

I can’t describe how bad this is because it takes the creativity out of the description. This is literally the most vomit-inducing smell I have ever smelled. I RUN inside my building and pray that people are not standing there checking their mail, because at any given day I might not be able to stomach it. I would hate to have my neighbors take home their bank statement or electric bill with complimentary chunks of Turkey, Lettuce and that weird looking stuff (this is applicable to all neighbors with the exception of ONE ...)

Another suspect is the hole in the ground due to the water supply construction. Last week, when our building’s water was cut-off, they dug up the entire street. Now, there are big metal plates covering the (potentially stinky) hole in the ground and it’s not working. Can we get some saran or glad wrap (flavor seal type) to perhaps remedy this situation?

The first day I smelled this, I gave this shit-hole the benefit of the doubt and actually BLAMED myself. I won’t go into the details where I had to visit the memory cache and figure out whether I forgot to ‘clean-up’ after using the bathroom or not. I am absent minded at times, but that was a stretch even for my paranoid self.

Then I started blaming other people. There’s a nightshift nurse who leaves our building around the same time I come home. I’m sure she’s a very nice person but some scenarios did cross my mind. The obvious one was that in a hurry to get to work on time, she just got dressed right after number 2 and dashed out of the door. You know, because there’s so much pressure in our professional lives.

The second scenario was that she worked at a place where patient ‘clean-up’ is required. Perhaps she didn’t get a chance to do laundry, that’s understandable, it’s commendable (the fact the she helps others) and it’s excusable.

While my mind was running away with this one, I couldn’t help but to stare right at her in search of inspiration for some more scenarios and ludicrous things. Unfortunately, she caught me staring at her while I was basically giving her a “You Have Shit All Over You” look. I feel so embarrassed. I hope she just thinks I’m crazy. Well wait …

WHAT if she thinks I am the one producing the smell? Maybe I mistook her look for a “Stop looking at me like that” look when in fact it was also a “You Have Shit All Over You” look. Although dirty some days, she couldn’t possibly tell where I work and associate my job with something ‘commendable’ and excuse me, therefore it HAS to be true and that look is most likely a “You Have (your own) Shit All Over You” look.

I guess the smell will eventually go away.

Note: I'm unclear on this, but I think I slept a lot yesterday/ last night. My initial guess is THIRTEEN hours, but I'll have a final answer when I tally it all up. Also, for today: Glass.

Atlanta, GAy

The weekend was great, in an attempt to maximize time spent down there as well as sleep (which I only got in about 2 hours) I unfortunately couldn’t write yesterday morning. I tried to think up a more elaborate or grandiose excuse for those who were expecting one.

I reiterate that Atlanta is a very cool city. There’s something for everyone. The naturists can enjoy their green, calm and relaxing surround while the club heads can enjoy their DJ’s skills and EVERYONE can enjoy some good southern food.

I also learned that Atlanta was a very gay city (second largest gay city in the US, after San Francisco). This came up during our city tour when we drove past a “gay church” and a HUGE billboard of two guys who apparently met on the advertised dating site and hit it off. There was no shortage of lesbians either.

I left on Friday after work and got to DC at about 9 p.m. We left DC shortly afterwards expecting an all-night ordeal on the 10 hours of highway. Since I had no driving responsibilities (I don’t know why…) my “task” was to stay up and keep whichever of the two drivers interested (and awake). Needless to say, I’m sort of uninteresting at times, and I fell asleep six or seven hours into the trip. To my credit I would wake up every 15 minutes or so and say something bizarre in the hopes of convincing them that I wasn’t really asleep.

We made it to Atlanta at 7 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning. Waiting for us was a very filling breakfast, coffee and tea and after all that, the next logical thing to do was SLEEP. That obviously was NOT an option as we had to (under extreme insistence on my behalf) watch Venus Williams TEAR THE HOUSE DOWN in what was sure to go down as a ‘classic’!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations.

The match was long (just shy of 3 hours) and before we knew it, it was lunch time. We went out for a drive around the city and to grab lunch somewhere. It started by visiting the workplaces of our hosts. The first workplace, J.B.'s, was a building where some parts of ‘Gone with the Wind’ (which I have not seen) were filmed. This was a very neat building, obviously with some historic value but the interior is very modern and advanced. The building had been home to some prostitutes, pimps and crack-lords, but has since been transformed with some EXTRA, EXTRA security.

Unfortunately there was some misunderstanding between the building’s technologically advanced security system and us. It just didn’t want us inside. We finally managed to get in the building, and then the elevator decided to start messing with us. You see, once you get in the elevator, you have to swipe an access card that’s already been pre-programmed to unlock the button for the floor in which you should have access to. For some strange reason, the access card wasn’t working and so we would have remained stuck in an elevator for a while (since no buttons can be pushed without swiping). It was cool though, we moved on to workplace #2.

Workplace #2 was a revamped dairy factory. The actual work space/ environment was very cool, a big open space, lots of stuff, a library, shelves, products EVERYWHERE. I was like a kid in candy land. I was already jealous the instant we walked in because of the cleanliness of the place, if I make the wrong move at MY workplace, I am guaranteed a swift, prompt and just filthinization (that was the type of stuff I was saying while trying to act like I was ‘awake’ and ‘alert’ during the drive).

We went on to have a great lunch and headed back home. SLEEP? Nah not really, we had to go and buy things for a planned Sunday cookout. Which brings us to the Farmer’s Market. The BEST farmer’s market I have EVER seen. In fact, I found something I was looking for since I came to this country. A Cherimoya (a.k.a. Custard Apple or “Gishta” as the native tongue would say). I bought one and it tasted so good. We also bought food to prepare some dinner that night.

Then we got home in time to start preparing a bomb-ass dinner. We ate, talked and did some more catching up and before we knew it, it was already midnight. Saturday was our only option to go clubbing but the majority vote was a no since everyone was tired and 2 nights without sleep is unnecessary for anyone who is done with college. We decided to take that night easy.

The next morning was again a time to witness a SERIOUS ass whooping on Andy Roddick, inflicted by The Man, The Master, The Federer.

To Be Continued …

Continued…

So yeah, Federer put the nasty on Roddick. I can’t believe Roddick didn’t just cry. That was a situation where you just put your head down, and cry like a little girl.

After THAT match, it was time to start the grilling action. “Southern Rub Chicken” was the star of the show and rightfully so. After eating the party was headed in two different directions -- A split, if you will.

The “cool” people were of course headed to the poker table for a SERIOUS showdown. The “nice” people were headed to play scrabble on another table. I was very confused and knew whichever crowd I joined; I would be distracted by the other simultaneously occurring game.

Well, I managed to make a decision, and picked the poker. I also managed to remain focused and not get distracted by the Oohs and Aahs of scrabble. The focus paid off as I eventually emerged as the victor on the poker table. It was down to me (HUGE chip stack), our host C.F. and his friend Will. Everyone went all in, and I figured I would call since one of them is bound to lose anyways. I managed to knock both of them out of the game in that hand when the flop showed ACE, THREE, THREE (which matched nicely with my ACE, THREE) and gave me a Full-House on the flop. SENSATIONAL stuff.

Ping Pong: Our hosts had a ping pong table, so I should mention that Ping Pong tables bring on an ONSLAUGHT of shit-talking like no other game. We were playing ping pong throughout both days, but it got real intense after poker. We won’t talk about this one too long because I didn’t win EVERYTHING (I held my own, but clearly, I wasn’t the Roger Federer of ping pong as I had claimed before one of my matches).

I just realized this step by step recollection will take FOREVER and it doesn’t really do the weekend justice. So how about I call it a day here, let’s reconnect tomorrow?

Note: Also, the weekend may have started a new tradition for me (this will all unravel in due time) but for now: Glass.

L8er G8tor

I won’t stay so mysterious anymore. I just want to share how happy I am Venus Williams held it down and gave Maria Sharapova a lesson (I hope she never forgets) in grass-court tennis. Not to say that I don’t like Maria Sharapova, she’s probably #2 in my favorites list … but we all know, 2 is not a winner and Venus is just on an entirely different level when it comes to my favorite sports personalities. (Noteworthy, I’m not a big fan of Serena Williams, I would cheer for Maria Sharapova over Serena Williams any day).

I spent the entire day yesterday on edge. First it was the chefs (who were very nice and cooperative) and then it was the AGONY of mistiming my lunch break. This was a result of an unforeseen rain delay at Wimbledon, which caused the play schedule to be delayed by about an hour or two. You sneaky bastards. Nonetheless, I could care less; I was very excited about the end result.

I did spend the entire evening hoping to catch a replay (and I did, I stayed up until about 11:30 or midnight) of the match. Yes, I know I broke my no-TV thing … but let’s just ignore that for a second. Enough tennis. What else has been going on?

In other news, Fourth of July is coming up. I’ll be spending the long weekend in Atlanta, a.k.a. “MY CITY”. I realize my long weekend isn’t really a ‘long weekend’ because I have to sacrifice an entire day from this ‘long weekend.’ The drive to and from Atlanta will handily take up that extra day but it’s worth it. There are probably 5 cities in the entire U.S. (along with Acute Bronchitis) that I will allow to infringe on my weekend time. Atlanta happens to be one of them.

I know I shouldn’t (publicly) admit this, but I have a very uneasy feeling about the trip. It’s hard to describe. I guess the best I can do is saying that I feel like “something will go wrong” somewhere. Of course, I have no reason to believe this; I am in exceptional company driving down and equally phenomenal hosts down in Atlanta.

To minimize my paranoia, I have elected not to contribute to the drive (even though I am very confident in my driving skills … but you know…). Instead, maybe I can provide long-drive entertainment; I've always thought I’d make a BAD DJ (Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good).

But it’s cool, I’m confident that my worries are unfounded and are direct results of me just writing on little sleep.

About several months ago, I promised myself that I would sleep for at least (the recommended) 7 hours a night. I’ve been pretty good with this. As I mentioned somewhere way back in this blog, I’m definitely NOCTURNAL … but again, I’m working on it. As a result, my ‘promptness’ at work has sometimes suffered.

It doesn’t help that my boss, Feisty Little Scotsman, commutes for OVER 1 hour and still manages to get there by 7:00 a.m. I, on the other hand, have about a 6 mile, 10 minutes commute and I’m proud when I make it in before 8:30 a.m. So its cool, I can sit here and appreciate that fact that making double (not exactly sure, maybe more) my salary automatically relegates FSL to “early bird” status.

I’ll probably try and elaborate on this sometime when I’m not running so late.

Happy Friday.

Note: I went to the driving range AGAIN yesterday afternoon. Will discuss during next week’s posts.