There are things that I do, that I'm not exactly sure why. They are little, odd things that I want to share with you, because I'm sure you do some odd things too. Read on, and feel free to share...
* When I use the microwave, I will often microwave everything for either 1 or 2 minutes, no matter what it is. If it is something complicated though, I will usually use some random amount of time. 1 minute 20 seconds seems like it wouldn't be enough, but 1 minute 30 seconds would be too much. 1 minute 27 seconds? This porridge is just right...
* When I'm walking, and I see a perfect looking stick (all jokes aside, straight, long and true) I will pick that stick the hell up and carry it for blocks. I don't need a stick, not even for defending myself, but I will wave it around as I pass by people who probably expect me to assault them with it. Eventually I will grow tired of the stick, or arrive at my destination- where they likely frown on people carrying sticks indoors (work, the dentist, court)- and will discard said stick. I once found a stick so great though, that I left it outside the local grocer so I could carry it on the way home too. Upon leaving, I was disappointed to find that my stick was gone, proving that at least one other person does the same thing.
* Similar to the stick-carrying thing (maybe) I don't wear suits enough that It isn't still a novelty. You know you don't wear suits enough if when you're wearing one you pretend to be one or more of the following people: Spy, assassin, bodyguard, secret service agent, railroad mogul, talk-show host, mafioso, Mayor of Chocolate Town. It may be subtle, but you're talking into your wrist or pretending your buddy is your chauffeur. I am not looking forward to a time when I have to wear a suit on a regular basis for any other reason than playing pretend at someone's wedding.
* I have never, ever finished a cough drop or piece of candy without losing my patience and chewing it. Not a big deal, but I've taken an odd sense of pride in the longer I can resist eating Halls like popcorn.
* During a game of catch with the 'ol pigskin, I have to resist being that guy that eventually punts the thing. Everyone hates that guy, and I have no idea why I have the urge to do so. After awhile of toss though, the idea of kicking the ball as hard as one can is a lot more satisfying than what you've been doing. Punting the ball is usually a signal that the session of catch is nearing its end, as two guys punting a football back and forth cannot last long.
* I make an attempt to literally throw garbage away (assuming it isn't noxious and there aren't a lot of people around) before walking it to the trash and disposing of it properly. I have been reprimanded for this by more than one "authority" figure. It just makes good 'ol American sense though- why would I walk my ass to the trash when I have even a slight chance of making whatever refuse I'm hurling into the can, making any walking unnecessary. If I make it, I pretend it's no-big-deal and pretend not to care if people notice, and if I miss, I just make the trip across the room I would have had to anyway. If you walk things to an open trash bin, you're just not as smart as me.
* I have before, and will again, pee in a sink. Your sink.
* I take an odd sense of satisfaction when I finish something. Not like a project, or workout or anything one SHOULD feel good about finishing, but things like a bottle of shampoo. I will feel good about not wasting the shampoo though too. It's like, you did a good job rationing this shampoo for a long time, and now you get to reward yourself with a NEW bottle of shampoo. Who knows how the technology of shampoo has progressed since you were last in the market?!
That's enough for now....
12.08.2011
12.04.2011
Casino Stories: "Danny Long-Distance"
11/27/2008
While working at the now history Fox & Hound Sports bar on the morning of Thanksgiving, I met someone I could only meet at the casino.
He walked into my life while the bar was vacant, at around 11:30am. An averaged-height Italian man in his mid-thirties, his attire was one of the most ridiculous I've ever seen, even by casino standards. From head to toe, he had greasy, black disheveled hair; giant designer sunglasses; a three-day beard; gold necklaces, ring, bracelets, and ear rings; a white tee-shirt announcing the wearer to be a "LIFEGUARD"; under a massive white mink fur coat; gray sweat pants; and finally $2,000 Italian leather dress shoes (I only know because he told me).
The conversation went something like this...
While working at the now history Fox & Hound Sports bar on the morning of Thanksgiving, I met someone I could only meet at the casino.
He walked into my life while the bar was vacant, at around 11:30am. An averaged-height Italian man in his mid-thirties, his attire was one of the most ridiculous I've ever seen, even by casino standards. From head to toe, he had greasy, black disheveled hair; giant designer sunglasses; a three-day beard; gold necklaces, ring, bracelets, and ear rings; a white tee-shirt announcing the wearer to be a "LIFEGUARD"; under a massive white mink fur coat; gray sweat pants; and finally $2,000 Italian leather dress shoes (I only know because he told me).
 |
| Artist representation |
The conversation went something like this...
GUY
Hey man, do you have any cognac?
SAM
We have Hennessy and Courvasier, both VS.
GUY
Naw, I don't want any of that cheap Hennessy shit; what's the other one you said?
SAM
Courvasier VS.
GUY
Yeah, gimme that.*
(I pour him a standard casino pour of Courvasier)
GUY
What the fuck is that?
SAM
It's a ounce and a half, they won't let me pour any more than that.
GUY
That's fuckin' bullshit man, it's for my teeth man, don't you care about my fuckin' teeth man?
SAM
What?
GUY
My teeth man, they're killin' me man. Driving through the tolls with the windows down, the draft man, the fuckin' draft is killin' my teeth. Do you have a rag or a napkin man?
(I had him a few napkins. He proceeds to roll them up, dip them in the snifter of cognac, and bit down on it)
SAM
Do you want to open a tab, or pay now?
GUY
I don't give a fuck man, my teeth!
(He pulls a hundred from a roll of other hundreds and throws it on the bar. I make change, and place it on the bar.)
GUY
My name's Danny.
SAM
Where ya from Danny?
DANNY
Long distance man, long distance (motioning far away)
SAM
You sound like you're from the East coast.
DANNY
Long distance man.
SAM
Right.
DANNY
I even wen to the dentist man, professional all the way**
SAM
And your teeth still hurt?
DANNY
Yeah man, those fuckin' tolls. I gotta make a phone call (gets up and walks outside, where he paces, talks on his cell, and chain smokes 100s)
(Coming back inside)
DANNY
Fuckin' snow is gonna ruin my fuckin' shoes man. These are $2,000 Italian leather shoes, man.
SAM
Yeah, they look nice. I wouldn't have worn them today.
DANNY
I was in a hurry. (muttering now)...Danny Long-Distance...
[The rest my my experience with Danny L.D. was him walking by periodically between smoke breaks, saying "Danny Long-Distance". I think he liked the new nick-name he had given for himself. I suspect that he was some sort of mid-level mobster, and that he was on cocaine. He was almost certainly crazy though]
*- Hennessy is more expensive, and in my opinion better than Courvasier.
**- WHO THE FUCK HAS AN AMATEUR DENTIST?!?
12.02.2011
10 Questions I Demand Answered Upon My Death
There are things I need to know, that I can't figure out. My only hope is that upon my death, the man upstairs has the answers to all these pressing questions...
1.) What the fuck happened to that hat? It was an awesome hat, and I didn't have it long enough. I don't even remember where I could have lost it. I just remember one day not having it. You've lost a similar hat, I know. I just need some closure. If it turned out someone stole it, fine. I just need to know, but no one alive could ever tell me.
2.) What the fuck is that noise that comes from upstairs? It sounds like any of the following: Someone typing on a keyboard at an impossibly loud volume; rats wearing thimbles on their feed and running around; someone opening up a chip bag again, at an impossibly loud volume. Sometimes when I stand up to try and pinpoint the noise, it stops. It is too loud to be an animal (unless their wearing thimbles) and I'm completely befuddled. I spend way too much time thinking about it. I shouldn't even be writing about it, because now I'm gonna think about it all day again...
3.) Jordon Vs. LeBron. Both in their prime. One-on-One. Make-it-take-it. Up to 50. THEN the '98 Bulls Vs. the 2010 Heat in a best of 7 series, just to be thorough in deciding who I should name my pet kangaroo after.
4.) What happened to that Bears sweater? It was the same one that Mike Ditka used to wear, and It was the best thrift store find ever. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend $2.00 (Yes). The last time I saw it, I loaned it to a buddy of mine in a frat. BUT, I distinctly remember getting it back. Perhaps he just stole it back knowing that I wouldn't assume it was him because he had just returned it. If so, that is the most brilliant scheme anyone in a frat has ever come up with. I need to look this guy up...
5.) Where will Voyager I & II end up? Maybe it is the geek in me, but I see no reason why God wouldn't know this. It fascinates the shit outta me that these hunks of metal are catapulting through the galaxy full of interesting shit to be found. .http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
6.) Why do people think their own farts smell good? Seriously. I've done research (PERHAPS time could be spent more wisely) and no one on the Internet seems to have the answer. They all just say that farts don't smell good, or that if two people smell the same fart and both think it was theirs (impossible) that they would both like it. Perhaps the secret to world peace lies somewhere in this riddle. Academics of the world, I implore you...
7. ) Who keeps moving the garbage can in the men's bathroom at work? I keep moving it back, every time but some ass keeps putting it under the soap dispenser, getting liquid soap all over the top of the lid. I've asked everyone, and they all deny it. There is a good chance that I may not need the question answered, as finding out who does this would result in my being lethally injected by the state of Illinois (once the moratorium is lifted) at which time I may be asking the devil the rest of these questions.
8.) How the hell did Stonehenge come to be? I mean, I know people have speculated about this forever, but really now. Though I'd love to know the answer, if there is a limit to questions I get to ask, this one will get the ax. I might just hope that the guy ahead of me in the Q&A line that I'm expecting in heaven asks this, and I can just overhear the answer. I also hope that that answer is Aliens so moved by the Chuck Berry they found on Voyager, that they went BACK IN TIME to build a monument to him. And there you have it, full circle.
9.) Has the smelly girl from the exercise room of my building EVER taken a shower? I can't wrap my head around how a normal-looking 100 lbs. blonde makes the weight room smell so bad she locks the door just to deter people (who have a key) from entering. I lost my vision the first time I walked in on her, and nearly lost consciousness. Luckily, I steadied myself enough to avoid what would probably be a devastating head injury. I could never ask her; it would crush her, I'm sure. I really want to bond with someone over just how bad she smells, but I never see anyone else in there when she is there. Most likely, every fit and active person in the building has either ponied up the money to join a real gym, or altered their work schedules so as to avoid the hour she is stinking the place up.
10.) Just what am I getting from a "Permanent Press" wash cycle that I can't from any other? I suppose I could look this up, but I hope I'm dead before I have to do laundry again.
RUNNER UP: What did that guy that lived upstairs from me in college look like? From the sounds of it, he enjoyed all kinds of tail. I just wanna see his face. Show me his FACE!
1.) What the fuck happened to that hat? It was an awesome hat, and I didn't have it long enough. I don't even remember where I could have lost it. I just remember one day not having it. You've lost a similar hat, I know. I just need some closure. If it turned out someone stole it, fine. I just need to know, but no one alive could ever tell me.
2.) What the fuck is that noise that comes from upstairs? It sounds like any of the following: Someone typing on a keyboard at an impossibly loud volume; rats wearing thimbles on their feed and running around; someone opening up a chip bag again, at an impossibly loud volume. Sometimes when I stand up to try and pinpoint the noise, it stops. It is too loud to be an animal (unless their wearing thimbles) and I'm completely befuddled. I spend way too much time thinking about it. I shouldn't even be writing about it, because now I'm gonna think about it all day again...
3.) Jordon Vs. LeBron. Both in their prime. One-on-One. Make-it-take-it. Up to 50. THEN the '98 Bulls Vs. the 2010 Heat in a best of 7 series, just to be thorough in deciding who I should name my pet kangaroo after.
4.) What happened to that Bears sweater? It was the same one that Mike Ditka used to wear, and It was the best thrift store find ever. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend $2.00 (Yes). The last time I saw it, I loaned it to a buddy of mine in a frat. BUT, I distinctly remember getting it back. Perhaps he just stole it back knowing that I wouldn't assume it was him because he had just returned it. If so, that is the most brilliant scheme anyone in a frat has ever come up with. I need to look this guy up...
5.) Where will Voyager I & II end up? Maybe it is the geek in me, but I see no reason why God wouldn't know this. It fascinates the shit outta me that these hunks of metal are catapulting through the galaxy full of interesting shit to be found. .http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
6.) Why do people think their own farts smell good? Seriously. I've done research (PERHAPS time could be spent more wisely) and no one on the Internet seems to have the answer. They all just say that farts don't smell good, or that if two people smell the same fart and both think it was theirs (impossible) that they would both like it. Perhaps the secret to world peace lies somewhere in this riddle. Academics of the world, I implore you...
7. ) Who keeps moving the garbage can in the men's bathroom at work? I keep moving it back, every time but some ass keeps putting it under the soap dispenser, getting liquid soap all over the top of the lid. I've asked everyone, and they all deny it. There is a good chance that I may not need the question answered, as finding out who does this would result in my being lethally injected by the state of Illinois (once the moratorium is lifted) at which time I may be asking the devil the rest of these questions.
8.) How the hell did Stonehenge come to be? I mean, I know people have speculated about this forever, but really now. Though I'd love to know the answer, if there is a limit to questions I get to ask, this one will get the ax. I might just hope that the guy ahead of me in the Q&A line that I'm expecting in heaven asks this, and I can just overhear the answer. I also hope that that answer is Aliens so moved by the Chuck Berry they found on Voyager, that they went BACK IN TIME to build a monument to him. And there you have it, full circle.
9.) Has the smelly girl from the exercise room of my building EVER taken a shower? I can't wrap my head around how a normal-looking 100 lbs. blonde makes the weight room smell so bad she locks the door just to deter people (who have a key) from entering. I lost my vision the first time I walked in on her, and nearly lost consciousness. Luckily, I steadied myself enough to avoid what would probably be a devastating head injury. I could never ask her; it would crush her, I'm sure. I really want to bond with someone over just how bad she smells, but I never see anyone else in there when she is there. Most likely, every fit and active person in the building has either ponied up the money to join a real gym, or altered their work schedules so as to avoid the hour she is stinking the place up.
10.) Just what am I getting from a "Permanent Press" wash cycle that I can't from any other? I suppose I could look this up, but I hope I'm dead before I have to do laundry again.
RUNNER UP: What did that guy that lived upstairs from me in college look like? From the sounds of it, he enjoyed all kinds of tail. I just wanna see his face. Show me his FACE!
11.02.2011
Wedding Plans- VETOED
It takes two to plan a wedding, or so I'm told. However, whenever I try to contribute brilliant wedding plans, I get shut down. Submitted for your approval, Sam's unconventional wedding ideas. You be the judge.
Save the Dates- Toilet paper rolls on which is printed: "No shit? Sam and Jessica are getting married! Save the date: 10/06/2012." She actually almost went for this one. I think the cost of having them made killed the argument. I think.
Gift Registry- Register for things I actually want, but can't afford- A big TV, a Mini Cooper, and most importantly a pug puppy. I was told that we had to register for things that we needed for our new home/life together- like whisks and melon-ballers.
Bridal Shower- Apparently I'm supposed to be at this thing, and it took Jessica all night to try and explain why we have this party so people can give us gifts, but then also give wedding gifts. I suggested a Shower theme. Like, literally a shower. We could wear shower caps, shower curtain table cloths, rubber ducky center pieces, etc. She thought I was kidding, giggled and left the room.
Rehearsal Dinner- Medieval Times, dinner and tournament. The tradition of groomsmen dates back to the middle ages, so there could be no better place to celebrate that fact than here. A night of gallantry and feasting is always a good time. Jessica only reminded me that there wasn't a M.T. anywhere near the Dells, and that Ripley's Believe it or Not didn't have enough space for us.
Flowers- Pre-Jurassic period. This I'll admit was kind of ridiculous, and didn't need her veto. Still, nothing beats the splendor of a Bromeliad in full bloom.
Photography- Everyone has camera phones, so I don't see why we need to hire some random guy to take pics. I suggested we have everyone take pictures and then we can pay our friends a dollar a picture or something. She said we needed "professional" pictures. I explained that if we paid for them, that would make the camera phone pics professional. She left the room.
Officiant- Crusty sea captain on his ship. This has long been a dream of mine. Upon research however, it turns out that most ship "captains" cannot marry people, and simply owning a boat doesn't make you a "captain". This idea fell flat on its face for more than one reason.
Bible Readings During the Ceremony- Everyone always reads the same Bible passages at these things. I'm tired of first Corinthians telling me love is kind and the likes. I suggested we use obscure and borderline inappropriate Bible verses. For example, nothing would make me smile more on my wedding day* than hearing 16-year old Maid of Honor Rebecca Bersani reading 2 Kings 2:23-2:
"Then he went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, “Go up, you baldhead! Go up, you baldhead!” So he turned around and looked at them, and pronounced a curse on them in the name of the LORD. And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths."
Or better still...
Ezekiel 23:19-20
"Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions."
Praise be to God!
Wedding Rings- Replicas of the "One Ring to Rule Them All". I could probably sneak a little elvish script on the inside band without her knowing, but I doubt that they have those at pawn shops anyway.
Bagpiper- This is actually going to happen, but not to the extent that I suggested. We have to pay the guy to be there, so why not use him as much as we can- play while Jessica is getting ready, during the cocktail hour, in the bedroom the evening of, etc. As it stands, you'll see the guy, but not as much as you should.
Throwing Rice- Substitute rice (which I'm told is bad for birds anyway) with M&M Minis. This speaks for itself, but was still rejected.
Entrance to Reception- Instead of entering to some "That's What I Call Music 58" track while I carry my new bride into the reception wearing sunglasses to roaring applause, I came up with riding in on an elephant to Aladdin's "Prince Ali" while throwing gold coins to our guests. Jessica didn't even respond. She probably thinks it isn't spectacular enough. I'm beginning to agree with her.
Party Favors- Everyone is all about charitable donations in your name for these things now. I'm all about creative charities- like giving a copy of everyone's room keys to homeless people. Buuuuuut I'm sure we'll end up making some ordinary donation to some charity in your name instead.
Toast- Thinking outside of the box again, I sought something to toast other than liquids. What is the next best thing to drinking? Smoking. We could have Hookahs as the center pieces of each table, and have a ceremonial Hookah pull for our toast. It would also make for a more interesting dance floor makeup as well. Jessica will be reading this idea for the first time, here.
Meal- With an open bar, there is no better food pairing than White Castle Crave Cubes.As it turns out, those delicious little burgers cause me tremendous gas, so that is I guess a deal breaker.
Wedding Cake- Substitute a cake for a wheel of cheese (in true Wisconsin wedding fashion) and allow the DJ to speak over the PA, "Please direct your attention to the dance floor, where the bride will cut the cheese." This idea being rejected, I suggested Zebra Cakes. Everyone loves them, and they are an impossible to beat $1.09 for a box. I'm piecing together my rebuttal for the latter as we speak.
Wedding Band- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bAN7Ts0xBo
Wedding Night- I'll probably be pretty spent from all the High-Fiving and drinking, so I thought it would be nice to rent a complimentary PG-13 DVD and enjoy it with some nice decaf lemon tea.
Honeymoon- Mississippi steamboat adventure complete with Mark Twain impersonator. Boom. It goes from Memphis to New Orleans, making stops along the way. I thought there was no way this idea would get shut down.
I guess I still have a lot to learn about my bride-to-be and marriage in general. However the wedding turns out, I'm be glad to be starting a different kind of adventure.
* (Aside from the prospect of spending the rest of my life with the one I love, of course :))
Save the Dates- Toilet paper rolls on which is printed: "No shit? Sam and Jessica are getting married! Save the date: 10/06/2012." She actually almost went for this one. I think the cost of having them made killed the argument. I think.
Gift Registry- Register for things I actually want, but can't afford- A big TV, a Mini Cooper, and most importantly a pug puppy. I was told that we had to register for things that we needed for our new home/life together- like whisks and melon-ballers.
Bridal Shower- Apparently I'm supposed to be at this thing, and it took Jessica all night to try and explain why we have this party so people can give us gifts, but then also give wedding gifts. I suggested a Shower theme. Like, literally a shower. We could wear shower caps, shower curtain table cloths, rubber ducky center pieces, etc. She thought I was kidding, giggled and left the room.
Rehearsal Dinner- Medieval Times, dinner and tournament. The tradition of groomsmen dates back to the middle ages, so there could be no better place to celebrate that fact than here. A night of gallantry and feasting is always a good time. Jessica only reminded me that there wasn't a M.T. anywhere near the Dells, and that Ripley's Believe it or Not didn't have enough space for us.
Flowers- Pre-Jurassic period. This I'll admit was kind of ridiculous, and didn't need her veto. Still, nothing beats the splendor of a Bromeliad in full bloom.
Photography- Everyone has camera phones, so I don't see why we need to hire some random guy to take pics. I suggested we have everyone take pictures and then we can pay our friends a dollar a picture or something. She said we needed "professional" pictures. I explained that if we paid for them, that would make the camera phone pics professional. She left the room.
Officiant- Crusty sea captain on his ship. This has long been a dream of mine. Upon research however, it turns out that most ship "captains" cannot marry people, and simply owning a boat doesn't make you a "captain". This idea fell flat on its face for more than one reason.
Bible Readings During the Ceremony- Everyone always reads the same Bible passages at these things. I'm tired of first Corinthians telling me love is kind and the likes. I suggested we use obscure and borderline inappropriate Bible verses. For example, nothing would make me smile more on my wedding day* than hearing 16-year old Maid of Honor Rebecca Bersani reading 2 Kings 2:23-2:
"Then he went up from there to Bethel; and as he was going up the road, some youths came from the city and mocked him, and said to him, “Go up, you baldhead! Go up, you baldhead!” So he turned around and looked at them, and pronounced a curse on them in the name of the LORD. And two female bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the youths."
Or better still...
Ezekiel 23:19-20
"Yet she increased her prostitution, remembering the days of her youth when she engaged in prostitution in the land of Egypt. She lusted after their genitals – as large as those of donkeys, and their seminal emission was as strong as that of stallions."
Praise be to God!
Wedding Rings- Replicas of the "One Ring to Rule Them All". I could probably sneak a little elvish script on the inside band without her knowing, but I doubt that they have those at pawn shops anyway.
Bagpiper- This is actually going to happen, but not to the extent that I suggested. We have to pay the guy to be there, so why not use him as much as we can- play while Jessica is getting ready, during the cocktail hour, in the bedroom the evening of, etc. As it stands, you'll see the guy, but not as much as you should.
Throwing Rice- Substitute rice (which I'm told is bad for birds anyway) with M&M Minis. This speaks for itself, but was still rejected.
Entrance to Reception- Instead of entering to some "That's What I Call Music 58" track while I carry my new bride into the reception wearing sunglasses to roaring applause, I came up with riding in on an elephant to Aladdin's "Prince Ali" while throwing gold coins to our guests. Jessica didn't even respond. She probably thinks it isn't spectacular enough. I'm beginning to agree with her.
Party Favors- Everyone is all about charitable donations in your name for these things now. I'm all about creative charities- like giving a copy of everyone's room keys to homeless people. Buuuuuut I'm sure we'll end up making some ordinary donation to some charity in your name instead.
Toast- Thinking outside of the box again, I sought something to toast other than liquids. What is the next best thing to drinking? Smoking. We could have Hookahs as the center pieces of each table, and have a ceremonial Hookah pull for our toast. It would also make for a more interesting dance floor makeup as well. Jessica will be reading this idea for the first time, here.
Meal- With an open bar, there is no better food pairing than White Castle Crave Cubes.As it turns out, those delicious little burgers cause me tremendous gas, so that is I guess a deal breaker.
Wedding Cake- Substitute a cake for a wheel of cheese (in true Wisconsin wedding fashion) and allow the DJ to speak over the PA, "Please direct your attention to the dance floor, where the bride will cut the cheese." This idea being rejected, I suggested Zebra Cakes. Everyone loves them, and they are an impossible to beat $1.09 for a box. I'm piecing together my rebuttal for the latter as we speak.
Wedding Band- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-bAN7Ts0xBo
Wedding Night- I'll probably be pretty spent from all the High-Fiving and drinking, so I thought it would be nice to rent a complimentary PG-13 DVD and enjoy it with some nice decaf lemon tea.
Honeymoon- Mississippi steamboat adventure complete with Mark Twain impersonator. Boom. It goes from Memphis to New Orleans, making stops along the way. I thought there was no way this idea would get shut down.
I guess I still have a lot to learn about my bride-to-be and marriage in general. However the wedding turns out, I'm be glad to be starting a different kind of adventure.
* (Aside from the prospect of spending the rest of my life with the one I love, of course :))
10.24.2011
How I Shaved my Head
I'm glad I have hair, yes. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to deal with it though. The past month or so I have spent too much time in front of the mirror fiddling with my hair, experimenting with different styles (I use the word loosely). I have been so frustrated as of late, that I have wanted to buzz it all off for quite a while.
Jessica is glad that I have hair, yes. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have to deal with me moaning about bad my hair looks though. So, she gave me permission to do what I want. This past weekend I finally decided to drop the hammer on the idea, and take out the clippers.
I first buzzed my head after losing a bet over the 2002 Stanley Cup finals. I was pleased with the results, and it has been an off-and-on favorite haircut of mine ever since. In the past, if I've made the decision to buzz my head, I will first cut it into a Mohawk. This I will sport for as many days as I can get away with, until I cut that down even more, into a Cabbage Patch Kids-esque tuft of hair in the middle of my head. I enjoy this comical quaff for a few more hours before removing that too. The end result is a nice, fuzzy 3-guard buzzed head in need of no product or time to groom it.
The first portion of the plan went exactly as planned. I sported the Mohawk to Jessica's sister Rebecca's soccer game, and then to her birthday dinner at Maggiano's. The next day, while Jessica was cooking dinner, I went into the bathroom to proceed with phase two. Jessica heard me say, "Ohhhh my God" and was too afraid to come in and look. What happened: I was trimming my head over the toilet. As I heard a Bzzzzzzzt, I saw the plastic guard fall into the toilet, along with a large part of the Mohawk. I examined the damage in the mirror, and found it irreversible. The only thing left to do was what you see now:
After wearing a hat during dinner, I finally showed Jessica, who by now had already guessed what I had done to my head. Now, I laugh every time I see myself in the mirror. Jessica put it best, "I was okay with you buzzing your head so you would stop looking at your hair in the mirror. But now you just stare at yourself in disbelief even more than before." True. Perhaps the funniest thing to me about this is that my boss, Chicago sommelier Don Sritong bics his head. Myself and a colleague were saying how funny it would be if I slowly looked more and more like Don, and told his stories like they were my own, while teaching some of his classes and events. Well, though an accident, it looks like I've taken that first step. At least I know he can't get pissed at me though- I still have more hair than him.
Jessica is glad that I have hair, yes. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have to deal with me moaning about bad my hair looks though. So, she gave me permission to do what I want. This past weekend I finally decided to drop the hammer on the idea, and take out the clippers.
I first buzzed my head after losing a bet over the 2002 Stanley Cup finals. I was pleased with the results, and it has been an off-and-on favorite haircut of mine ever since. In the past, if I've made the decision to buzz my head, I will first cut it into a Mohawk. This I will sport for as many days as I can get away with, until I cut that down even more, into a Cabbage Patch Kids-esque tuft of hair in the middle of my head. I enjoy this comical quaff for a few more hours before removing that too. The end result is a nice, fuzzy 3-guard buzzed head in need of no product or time to groom it.
The first portion of the plan went exactly as planned. I sported the Mohawk to Jessica's sister Rebecca's soccer game, and then to her birthday dinner at Maggiano's. The next day, while Jessica was cooking dinner, I went into the bathroom to proceed with phase two. Jessica heard me say, "Ohhhh my God" and was too afraid to come in and look. What happened: I was trimming my head over the toilet. As I heard a Bzzzzzzzt, I saw the plastic guard fall into the toilet, along with a large part of the Mohawk. I examined the damage in the mirror, and found it irreversible. The only thing left to do was what you see now:
After wearing a hat during dinner, I finally showed Jessica, who by now had already guessed what I had done to my head. Now, I laugh every time I see myself in the mirror. Jessica put it best, "I was okay with you buzzing your head so you would stop looking at your hair in the mirror. But now you just stare at yourself in disbelief even more than before." True. Perhaps the funniest thing to me about this is that my boss, Chicago sommelier Don Sritong bics his head. Myself and a colleague were saying how funny it would be if I slowly looked more and more like Don, and told his stories like they were my own, while teaching some of his classes and events. Well, though an accident, it looks like I've taken that first step. At least I know he can't get pissed at me though- I still have more hair than him.
10.14.2011
Puberty II
When I was in fifth grade, they took us on a field trip to the Robert Crown center, where we learned about the upcoming changes that we could expect our bodies to undergo, better known as puberty. The nice lady explained that puberty can begin as early as ten years old, and last as long as twenty-five. Well, about a decade after going through full-blown puberty, I feel like I'm living the sequel. So many changes to my body; except these aren't the changes an adult male looks forward to.
For one thing, I never had a bad case of acne growing up. A pimple here and there, sure. NOW I'm breaking out like a teenage fry cook. I cannot explain how embarrassing it is for a grown man to wear cover-up; especially if it is cover-up that some drunk, party girl left at his apartment in college.
I was never an overly hairy individual, and this pleased me. In fact, I had relatively no hair on my legs until I started shaving them for swimming. NOW I feel like Teenwolf. Since I've been told that men go bald if the men on their mother's said went bald, I fear that as well. I feel like every hair on my head has either put in for a transfer to currently hairless parts of my body, or are retiring altogether. It is only a matter of time before the transfers are all approved, leaving me bald as a snake, but hairy as a marmot:
"Well, I see that you've put in 25 good years atop Sam's head, and that is enough to retire. Might I suggest though going south to Sam's ass to fill a senior position we ave open there? It is wide open right now, and only getting bigger. We could use some good hairs like you down there, and in a short while we'll have a great team assembled around you. That's a promise."
I'm still eating like a 15 year old, except the twist in Puberty II is that my metabolism is dramatically slower. Not only that, but the amount and level of exercise needed for me to feel good about myself is becoming less and less everyday. There was a time in the not-too-distant past when I would feel like an absolute panty-waist if I didn't clock 18 hours a week in either pool or gym. NOW, I spent 25 minutes reading a women's health magazine on an elliptical machine, then jump some rope and I feel like I can eat three personal pan pizzas. So, just like a teenage boy, I'm gaining weight- but not in a good way. When a man my age steps on the scale and it reads that you've gained a pound, you think, "Well, shit. I'm a big muscular dude." When he steps on that same scale and it reads that you've lost a pound, you think, "Well shit, I'm getting cut as hell." One way or another, the man feels content enough to not give a shit about his routines.
My eyes constantly look tired. When you wake up feeling completely refreshed and people look at you like you're cripplingly hungover, you have to pretend to be. Yes, that's right, I don't normally look like this (but as it turns out, I do). If it continues to get worse, I'm going to chew on costume blood capsules and tell people that I'm in an underground fight club, and "You should see the other guy.".
Everything that they (adult men) have said to me would happen, is happening. It is easy to think "Well, that won't be me; I workout, eat right, and won't let myself go to shit like you say" when you're 22. Three short years later, the responsibilities that I've acquired along the way have left me to see the prophecy unfolding in front of the mirror every morning.
So here I am, stuck in Puberty II- A 25 year-old man that needs to be sheered like a fat, soon to be bald sheep. I cook breakfast for my fiancee every morning, walk her to the bus stop, and try to make her laugh as much as possible. Now you know why- there are some handsome-ass dudes out there.
For one thing, I never had a bad case of acne growing up. A pimple here and there, sure. NOW I'm breaking out like a teenage fry cook. I cannot explain how embarrassing it is for a grown man to wear cover-up; especially if it is cover-up that some drunk, party girl left at his apartment in college.
I was never an overly hairy individual, and this pleased me. In fact, I had relatively no hair on my legs until I started shaving them for swimming. NOW I feel like Teenwolf. Since I've been told that men go bald if the men on their mother's said went bald, I fear that as well. I feel like every hair on my head has either put in for a transfer to currently hairless parts of my body, or are retiring altogether. It is only a matter of time before the transfers are all approved, leaving me bald as a snake, but hairy as a marmot:
"Well, I see that you've put in 25 good years atop Sam's head, and that is enough to retire. Might I suggest though going south to Sam's ass to fill a senior position we ave open there? It is wide open right now, and only getting bigger. We could use some good hairs like you down there, and in a short while we'll have a great team assembled around you. That's a promise."
I'm still eating like a 15 year old, except the twist in Puberty II is that my metabolism is dramatically slower. Not only that, but the amount and level of exercise needed for me to feel good about myself is becoming less and less everyday. There was a time in the not-too-distant past when I would feel like an absolute panty-waist if I didn't clock 18 hours a week in either pool or gym. NOW, I spent 25 minutes reading a women's health magazine on an elliptical machine, then jump some rope and I feel like I can eat three personal pan pizzas. So, just like a teenage boy, I'm gaining weight- but not in a good way. When a man my age steps on the scale and it reads that you've gained a pound, you think, "Well, shit. I'm a big muscular dude." When he steps on that same scale and it reads that you've lost a pound, you think, "Well shit, I'm getting cut as hell." One way or another, the man feels content enough to not give a shit about his routines.
My eyes constantly look tired. When you wake up feeling completely refreshed and people look at you like you're cripplingly hungover, you have to pretend to be. Yes, that's right, I don't normally look like this (but as it turns out, I do). If it continues to get worse, I'm going to chew on costume blood capsules and tell people that I'm in an underground fight club, and "You should see the other guy.".
Everything that they (adult men) have said to me would happen, is happening. It is easy to think "Well, that won't be me; I workout, eat right, and won't let myself go to shit like you say" when you're 22. Three short years later, the responsibilities that I've acquired along the way have left me to see the prophecy unfolding in front of the mirror every morning.
So here I am, stuck in Puberty II- A 25 year-old man that needs to be sheered like a fat, soon to be bald sheep. I cook breakfast for my fiancee every morning, walk her to the bus stop, and try to make her laugh as much as possible. Now you know why- there are some handsome-ass dudes out there.
10.02.2011
Pure F$%&king Michigan!
In our youth, my friends and I took many a guy trip to exotic destinations like Wisconsin, Missouri, and Tennessee (they're these whole other states). Getting away from home, and especially authority figures for a few days at a time was important to our young, adventurous spirits. Every trip was filled with memories that we still tell today, to anyone that will listen. There was however a lapse. It dawned on me when my fiance was planning a gal trip to Vegas that I had not been on a vacation without female companionship in six fucking years. How could this have happened? Careers, significant others, and overall growing apart was at fault. So, partially out of spite but more out of fear of being bored and alone that weekend, I said to a potato I was peeling: "Fuck it. I'm taking a trip too."
Galien is a tiny town in the middle of pure-fucking-Michigan nowhere. Somewhere in that nowhere is Dayton lake. Somewhere on Dayton lake is a house that some nice family rents out for nice couples retreats and other nice family vacations. It can sleep twelve grown men, has a nice yard, boat dock complete with canoe and rowboat, a nice balcony deck, pool table, big-screen color television, card table and fire pit. These features caught the attention of Joe Legions, who then inquired about renting it for our weekend. Not wanting to make an issue out of the great likelihood that they would return to a smoldering pile of ash that had once been their lovely lake home, Joe lied to these fine people, and they were happy to share their home with the four newlywed couples Joe promised them.What arrived instead were nine twenty-something men and over 300 cans of domestic beer.
Imagine the most stereotypical man-cation possible, then intoxicate and caffeinate the man in that -cation, and you can begin to form a better understanding of the weekend. There was poker, tobacco, drinking, fishing, binge-eating, shouting, fires, bear-baiting* and all around recklessness. At some point in the weekend we were just running around and throwing things, including large pieces of lumber and stones. Everything turned into a game. Mike LaGrasse balances a beer atop his head, and lo we have William Tell football.The yard looked like some drunken field day.
Despite all of the debauchery, we all noticed some semblance of adulthood throughout the trip. For one thing, we ate regular meals together. We decided to only drink beer, although a lot of it, to avoid crippling hangovers. We were civil with one another, even while drunk. We didn't squable about money. And despite the high risk for utter destruction, the only thing ruined were a few colons. The house was trashed, make no mistake, but vacations of the past had us handing over security deposits for rented spaces that looked like Motley Cru had stayed there. When it was over, we all pitched in to clean up, and it took surprisingly little time.
Some of the highlights of the trip include:
Catching almost no fish, despite Mike claiming, "I'm gonna catch a fish so big that I'm scared of it!"
Dragging a small forest worth of timber from the "Woodmine" to feed an enormous fire.
Myself, Joe and Jim swinging on the swingset (further evidence that the house is intended for families) in an attempt to tip it over.
Joe and Mike failing over and over to row into shore before realizing that the anchor was still out.
Rosas throwing rock in a game of odds-and-evens.
Andy's Grocery. More on this: The nearest shop was a few miles away, and almost certainly a front for a meth lab. The proprietor (I'm assuming Andy) was near toothless, and his shop was in complete disarray. It was like being in a Twilight Zone episode- Bologna over a year past expiration, homemade six packs of beer with little post-it labels on them, completley random merchandise (like a disproportionate amount of Precious Moments figureines), and all kinds of shit hoarded in the back that was overflowing into the store. In fact, it was hard to tell what Andy was trying to sell. I'm assuming that if I made him an offer on any of the many decades old Apple computers or microwaves he had, we could reach an agreement though. And of course, he only took cash. It is at Andy's that the photograph displaying milk prices at left was taken. I understand what homogenized milk is, but I would be surprised if Andy did.
This trip will go now as one of the best times of my life. Everything was perfect from the people to the weather. Thanks to everyone who came along (Joe, Mike, Jonathan, Rosas, Derek, Jim, Muse and Brandon). This trip feels like the end of an era. As we all get older and get closer and closer to getting women pregnant, these trips will be harder to make happen. The best advice I can give my readers (aside from not eating Buffalo Wild Wings three nights in a row) is to make an effort to make something like this happen for you and yours. Plan it out as far in advance as you need, but see it done. I'm already stoked for Cooperstown 2017.
* There wasn't any bear-baiting.
Galien is a tiny town in the middle of pure-fucking-Michigan nowhere. Somewhere in that nowhere is Dayton lake. Somewhere on Dayton lake is a house that some nice family rents out for nice couples retreats and other nice family vacations. It can sleep twelve grown men, has a nice yard, boat dock complete with canoe and rowboat, a nice balcony deck, pool table, big-screen color television, card table and fire pit. These features caught the attention of Joe Legions, who then inquired about renting it for our weekend. Not wanting to make an issue out of the great likelihood that they would return to a smoldering pile of ash that had once been their lovely lake home, Joe lied to these fine people, and they were happy to share their home with the four newlywed couples Joe promised them.What arrived instead were nine twenty-something men and over 300 cans of domestic beer.
 |
| Another sacrifice. |
 |
| And we had recycled most of it. |
 |
| Calm before the storm. |
Some of the highlights of the trip include:
Catching almost no fish, despite Mike claiming, "I'm gonna catch a fish so big that I'm scared of it!"
Dragging a small forest worth of timber from the "Woodmine" to feed an enormous fire.
Myself, Joe and Jim swinging on the swingset (further evidence that the house is intended for families) in an attempt to tip it over.
Joe and Mike failing over and over to row into shore before realizing that the anchor was still out.
Rosas throwing rock in a game of odds-and-evens.
"Boneshadow"- Random nick name somehow bestowed upon Rosas. We then began to sing a song to the tune of Cat Stevens' "Moonshadow" about it.
"That guy must have went to MITT Tech."
"There can be only one Thailander!"
 |
| "When I was your age you could get a gallon of homo for a dollar." |
This trip will go now as one of the best times of my life. Everything was perfect from the people to the weather. Thanks to everyone who came along (Joe, Mike, Jonathan, Rosas, Derek, Jim, Muse and Brandon). This trip feels like the end of an era. As we all get older and get closer and closer to getting women pregnant, these trips will be harder to make happen. The best advice I can give my readers (aside from not eating Buffalo Wild Wings three nights in a row) is to make an effort to make something like this happen for you and yours. Plan it out as far in advance as you need, but see it done. I'm already stoked for Cooperstown 2017.
* There wasn't any bear-baiting.
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