Last April, Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick was charged with all sorts of crimes related to dogfighting and animal abuse. Stories and images were blasted all over the media of dogs, mostly pit bulls, who had been forced to fight other dogs to the death. We heard countless tales of Vick or his associates electrocuting, hanging and otherwise abusing/punishing dogs that had failed to do whatever it is people involved in professional dog fighting expect.
Dogs are a staple of many American families and a lot of people would put animal abuse on a list of things that absolutely shock the conscience of the country. So while most of the country was sitting by talking about how horrible Michael Vick was for doing this to animals, I couldn't help but listen to the numbers of people who defended him.
Shortly after she took over as host of The View, Whoopi Goldberg came out that we essentially shouldn't judge Michael Vick as dogfighting is part of his cultural heritage and upbringing in the South. Subsequently, Goldberg claimed that she was not condoning what Vick did but she was asking us not to judge him.
Around this time, a whole wave of African-American athletes came out to support what Vick had done. Among these were Stephon Marbury, Roy Jones, Jr. and Clinton Portis. Essentially, Marbury compared dogfighting to legal hunting, Jones mentioned how dogs fight all the time in the wild and Portis talked about dogs being private property and Vick should do with them what he pleases.
What the above-mentioned individuals are ignoring is that dog-fighting is cruel and inhumane. Most importantly, it is illegal. I could probably think of a plethora of activities that are indicative of the cultural heritage of certain areas of this country, but are despicable and illegal.
Recently, in a game between the Houston Texans and the Miami Dolphins, Dolphins quarterback Trent Green attempted to block Texans defensive tackle Travis Johnson and put his shoulder close to Travis Johnson's knees. Johnson ran into Green and his knee connected with Green's helmet, knocking Green out cold. Next, Travis Johnson stood over Trent Green, pointing his finger at him. He was immediately flagged for taunting and the Texans suffered 15 yards as a penalty.
In the locker room after the game, Travis Johnson was interviewed and he had an assortment of harsh words, calling Green's attempted "chop block" malicious. Meanwhile, Trent Green was placed on injured reserve effectively ending his season. After the game, the Texans coach came out calling Johnson's reaction inexcusable. I just cannot accept that a 37-year old, 210 pound, concussion-prone quarterback would attempt an illegal, dangerous "chop block" on a 315 pound defensive tackle. Like most people I felt that Johnson's reactions were deplorable and could not fathom a defense for him.
However, I was wrong, the following day on Around the Horn, this incident was a hot topic. Out of the four commentators, three of them were white. The three of them all said basically the same thing: Johnson's reactions were awful, the league should look into fines or suspensions, if Green did anything wrong it wasn't worthy of Johnson's reaction. The final commentator, who happened to be African-American, came out in defense of Travis Johnson, who also happens to be African-American. He said things similar to "don't judge him until you are in his shoes", etc.
Moreover, another African-American football player, Chris Carter, whom I used to respect, came out supporting Johnson's actions and behavior.
Quite simply, how Travis Johnson behaved was wrong and he should have appologized. Keep in mind I am not saying anything about what he did during the play, but how he reacted immediately afterwards and in the locker room.
In the interest of brevity, I will stop the list there with these two recent examples, but I know it could go on. And I am by no means limiting this strictly to African-Americans. As humans, we are obviously always going to identify more closely with members of our own race, social class, religion or ethnic background. that is inescapable.
This brings me to question why there is such a sentiment of allegiance towards members of one's groups who have done disgraceful things. If Vick's mother had come out and said, "my son is a good man and has done nothing wrong", I would have expected that. I mean unconditional love and support are what mother's and family are for. So what was Whoopi Goldberg's roll here?
Quite frankly, this unending support for members of one's own race is only going to succeed in deepening the schism between the races that this country has spent the past 150 years trying to erase. If this sort of support continues, it is likely that entire groups will begin to be judged by the actions of the "fringe" individual and we will be forced down a path of prejudice we are desperately trying to escape as a society.
Sensible representatives should come forward to remind people that this is not how members of theirr race behave. I will be the first to say Britney Spears, amogst countless other tabloid-headline grabbers, is not indicative of white people, and a majority of white people do not behave in this way. I will not excuse or defend her behavior and I will not permit my race to be judged by her actions. No ,we should not support or attempt to excuse the "fringee" members of our race. They should appologize publicly and beg for society's forgiveness or forever be shunned to the fringes.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Pack up and get the F*#% out!
I noticed I haven't posted in about 5 months, and I've heard a couple or three complaints about the lack of posting, so i figured I would write something especially now that school has started again and the weather has cooled and I have free time.
The Summer of 2007 was my first summer not in Arizona since I was a little kid. For those of you that aren't aware, Phoenix is not the place to be in June, July and August. Just about the only fun thing to do there during those months is to pack up and get the f*%# out. Anyhow, I feel like I have done a fair amount, and I kept a journal (not at all) and decided to write about this past summer.
I actually flew back to Phoenix from Islip airport on Long Island in the beginning of June. Islip airport is easily the easiest airport in the New York Metropolitan area and it is highly recommended. Also Southwest flies there for you budget conscious folk.
Anyway, I didn't spend much time in Phoenix and was only there to pick up a 1998 Cadillac Catera and drive it back to the East Coast. This was probably the most exciting part of my summer and something I will always remember. I consider driving across the country a right of passage as an American and recommend everyone try it. Although I wouldn't recommend doing it alone.
Upon reading this blog, I realize that it sounds like it is part advertising for Islip airport and part fruity, boring reflection. I will change that.
The first day of my drive took me across the Southwest through Northeastern Arizona and across New Mexico. I stopped in a little town called Tucumuncari, which is about halfway between Albuquerque and Amarillo. Just so you know if your town's claim to fame is that it is halfway between Albuquerque and Amarillo, it could be time to pack up and get the F%*# out. There was nothing to do in this town, and all of the motels looked like the places one would pull in to either commit suicide or disembowel a drifter. I found a somewhat classy motel, and by somewhat classy I mean only two shopping carts in the swimming pool, and bedded down for the night.
The hotel also had a bar, which I ate dinner in and had a few beers at, hoping to rub elbows with the locals. I can't stand eating at a table by myself, and there is something less lonely about eating at a bar. That and they usually have a television on. There was an assortment of truckers and travelling salesmen types at the bar and no one was particularly friendly. This was until some guy bought shots of Tuaca (an orange/vanilla liquer) for the entire bar. (By entire bar I mean 5 people if you count the bartender). The guy quickly informed the antisocial crowd that he was the "Tuaca sales representative for Northeastern New Mexico". He used the word the as if he really earned that title. I asked him just how much Tuaca Northeastern New Mexico consumed, to which he answered, "you'd be surprised." He was probably right. I left the bar, bought a 24 ounce can of beer at a gas station and retired for the night.
My next night I made it as far as Tulsa, Oklahoma. This was the biggest city I had come across since leaving Phoenix. I stayed at a Red Roof Inn, this time the pool worked and immediately set about getting the party started. By getting the party started, I mean I went to the Applebee's next door to the Red Roof and ate the Cajun grilled Tilapia and had 3 beers. This took me until about 6:30 pm. I flipped through the newspaper and noticed there was a mall with a movie theatre just around the corner, with a few movies I had wanted to see playing at convenient times.
At the mall I settled on seeing "Vacancy" with Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsdale. I will get to that story later. I had about 40 minutes to kill and ended up at a Mexican cantina/restaurant across from the theatre (still in the mall) and had a margarita before the show. One thing I will say about Tulsa is the women there are very attractive, at least the ones I saw. There were three sitting next to me at the bar in this Mexican place and were all having a good time. Needless to say, the creepy guy drinking margaritas and about to see "Vacancy" by himself didn't have much of a shot. Well, that and I didn't even bother talking to them.
I am convinced that "Vacancy" (those of you who aren't familiar with this film, it is the one about where Luke and Kate end up at a motel in the middle of no where and the motel owners are sadistic killers and there is all sorts of suspense, etc. etc. etc.) is one of the top three worst movies to see when you are embarking on a cross-country road trip. The others being "The Hitcher" and maybe "Joyride". Now sufficiently rattled and barely two-thirds of the way through my journey I walk out of the movie theater and decide to get drunk before going to bed. This takes me to the bar at Outback Steakhouse. 1,000 miles from home and in a city where I don't know anyone, I get pretty tore up. Outback doesn't typically pour shots of Jameson, but they did this faithful night. And although the bar was chock-ful of pretty ladies, they gave the creepy guy shooting Jameson the same sort of attention as they would Buffalo Bill.
I wake up the next morning feel like crap and decide to pack up and get the F%#* out. I make it through about 100 miles of Northeastern Oklahoma when I play blackjack at a local casino. The casino was garbage and charged $0.50 a hand to play blackjack. I have never seen anything like it and thought it was garbage. Beign the economics major, I realize that I have to play big each hand to get my money's worth. I mean playing $3 a hand when you are being charged $0.50 doesn't make much fiscal sense, right? Anyway I win $50, which could have been $54.50 if it hadn't of been in stupid Oklahoma, and continue on my way.
After getting lost and a brief traffic jam in Arkansas, I end up at a little past the halfway point, St. Louis, MO. This was nice since I have a few friends in the StL, this would temporarily end the lonely aspect of my drive.
My Thursday through Sunday in St. Louis was a typical weekend for me- pretty much drinking and breaking various local open container and public urination ordinances, and was otherwise uneventful.
I did have what I believe to be one of the most unhealthy day of my life, however. I think it was a Saturday where I began the day with a half rack of ribs, some coleslaw and a bud light. Consistently drinking all day, I ended up purchasing some fried dumplings from a street vendor in the early afternoon. That evening I went to a Gateway Grizzlies (a minor league team in Sauget, IL[on a related note, Sauget may be my favorite town in the United States, for exactly why could be another blog entry]) baseball game and completed "Baseball's best grand slam".
"Baseball's best grand slam" consisted of a bratwurst stuffed with swiss cheese, a hot dog topped with nacho cheese sauce, bacon and maybe chili, a deep fried White Castle slider and (some of you may remember this from my sandwich piece back in January or February) the Krispy-Kreme bacon cheeseburger. I ate the entire thing in 9 innings and have the t-shirt to prove it. After the game I continued drinking, then wanted Taco Bell on the way home but no one would stop. That Saturday may have been pushing the 10,000 calorie day which I have often proselytized about. I mean it is up there with 14 pina-colada Mondays in college or those occasional times where I run through a buffet like the firebombing raids on Tokyo in 1945.
This explains why on Sunday I only made it as far as Springfield, OH which is still 12 hours away from New York. This was where I watched the Soprano's finale. Apart from that, you know what else is fun to do in Springfield, Ohio? Pack up and get the F#%$ out. This is why I left at about 5:30 in the morning, which got me into New York just as rush hour was starting. I would like to say that this was where the fun part of the road trip ended, but the road trip stopped being fun a lot earlier than that.
The Summer of 2007 was my first summer not in Arizona since I was a little kid. For those of you that aren't aware, Phoenix is not the place to be in June, July and August. Just about the only fun thing to do there during those months is to pack up and get the f*%# out. Anyhow, I feel like I have done a fair amount, and I kept a journal (not at all) and decided to write about this past summer.
I actually flew back to Phoenix from Islip airport on Long Island in the beginning of June. Islip airport is easily the easiest airport in the New York Metropolitan area and it is highly recommended. Also Southwest flies there for you budget conscious folk.
Anyway, I didn't spend much time in Phoenix and was only there to pick up a 1998 Cadillac Catera and drive it back to the East Coast. This was probably the most exciting part of my summer and something I will always remember. I consider driving across the country a right of passage as an American and recommend everyone try it. Although I wouldn't recommend doing it alone.
Upon reading this blog, I realize that it sounds like it is part advertising for Islip airport and part fruity, boring reflection. I will change that.
The first day of my drive took me across the Southwest through Northeastern Arizona and across New Mexico. I stopped in a little town called Tucumuncari, which is about halfway between Albuquerque and Amarillo. Just so you know if your town's claim to fame is that it is halfway between Albuquerque and Amarillo, it could be time to pack up and get the F%*# out. There was nothing to do in this town, and all of the motels looked like the places one would pull in to either commit suicide or disembowel a drifter. I found a somewhat classy motel, and by somewhat classy I mean only two shopping carts in the swimming pool, and bedded down for the night.
The hotel also had a bar, which I ate dinner in and had a few beers at, hoping to rub elbows with the locals. I can't stand eating at a table by myself, and there is something less lonely about eating at a bar. That and they usually have a television on. There was an assortment of truckers and travelling salesmen types at the bar and no one was particularly friendly. This was until some guy bought shots of Tuaca (an orange/vanilla liquer) for the entire bar. (By entire bar I mean 5 people if you count the bartender). The guy quickly informed the antisocial crowd that he was the "Tuaca sales representative for Northeastern New Mexico". He used the word the as if he really earned that title. I asked him just how much Tuaca Northeastern New Mexico consumed, to which he answered, "you'd be surprised." He was probably right. I left the bar, bought a 24 ounce can of beer at a gas station and retired for the night.
My next night I made it as far as Tulsa, Oklahoma. This was the biggest city I had come across since leaving Phoenix. I stayed at a Red Roof Inn, this time the pool worked and immediately set about getting the party started. By getting the party started, I mean I went to the Applebee's next door to the Red Roof and ate the Cajun grilled Tilapia and had 3 beers. This took me until about 6:30 pm. I flipped through the newspaper and noticed there was a mall with a movie theatre just around the corner, with a few movies I had wanted to see playing at convenient times.
At the mall I settled on seeing "Vacancy" with Luke Wilson and Kate Beckinsdale. I will get to that story later. I had about 40 minutes to kill and ended up at a Mexican cantina/restaurant across from the theatre (still in the mall) and had a margarita before the show. One thing I will say about Tulsa is the women there are very attractive, at least the ones I saw. There were three sitting next to me at the bar in this Mexican place and were all having a good time. Needless to say, the creepy guy drinking margaritas and about to see "Vacancy" by himself didn't have much of a shot. Well, that and I didn't even bother talking to them.
I am convinced that "Vacancy" (those of you who aren't familiar with this film, it is the one about where Luke and Kate end up at a motel in the middle of no where and the motel owners are sadistic killers and there is all sorts of suspense, etc. etc. etc.) is one of the top three worst movies to see when you are embarking on a cross-country road trip. The others being "The Hitcher" and maybe "Joyride". Now sufficiently rattled and barely two-thirds of the way through my journey I walk out of the movie theater and decide to get drunk before going to bed. This takes me to the bar at Outback Steakhouse. 1,000 miles from home and in a city where I don't know anyone, I get pretty tore up. Outback doesn't typically pour shots of Jameson, but they did this faithful night. And although the bar was chock-ful of pretty ladies, they gave the creepy guy shooting Jameson the same sort of attention as they would Buffalo Bill.
I wake up the next morning feel like crap and decide to pack up and get the F%#* out. I make it through about 100 miles of Northeastern Oklahoma when I play blackjack at a local casino. The casino was garbage and charged $0.50 a hand to play blackjack. I have never seen anything like it and thought it was garbage. Beign the economics major, I realize that I have to play big each hand to get my money's worth. I mean playing $3 a hand when you are being charged $0.50 doesn't make much fiscal sense, right? Anyway I win $50, which could have been $54.50 if it hadn't of been in stupid Oklahoma, and continue on my way.
After getting lost and a brief traffic jam in Arkansas, I end up at a little past the halfway point, St. Louis, MO. This was nice since I have a few friends in the StL, this would temporarily end the lonely aspect of my drive.
My Thursday through Sunday in St. Louis was a typical weekend for me- pretty much drinking and breaking various local open container and public urination ordinances, and was otherwise uneventful.
I did have what I believe to be one of the most unhealthy day of my life, however. I think it was a Saturday where I began the day with a half rack of ribs, some coleslaw and a bud light. Consistently drinking all day, I ended up purchasing some fried dumplings from a street vendor in the early afternoon. That evening I went to a Gateway Grizzlies (a minor league team in Sauget, IL[on a related note, Sauget may be my favorite town in the United States, for exactly why could be another blog entry]) baseball game and completed "Baseball's best grand slam".
"Baseball's best grand slam" consisted of a bratwurst stuffed with swiss cheese, a hot dog topped with nacho cheese sauce, bacon and maybe chili, a deep fried White Castle slider and (some of you may remember this from my sandwich piece back in January or February) the Krispy-Kreme bacon cheeseburger. I ate the entire thing in 9 innings and have the t-shirt to prove it. After the game I continued drinking, then wanted Taco Bell on the way home but no one would stop. That Saturday may have been pushing the 10,000 calorie day which I have often proselytized about. I mean it is up there with 14 pina-colada Mondays in college or those occasional times where I run through a buffet like the firebombing raids on Tokyo in 1945.
This explains why on Sunday I only made it as far as Springfield, OH which is still 12 hours away from New York. This was where I watched the Soprano's finale. Apart from that, you know what else is fun to do in Springfield, Ohio? Pack up and get the F#%$ out. This is why I left at about 5:30 in the morning, which got me into New York just as rush hour was starting. I would like to say that this was where the fun part of the road trip ended, but the road trip stopped being fun a lot earlier than that.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Weekday Warrior
With the exception of the sandwich piece, no entries on this blog have been personal in nature. I am hoping that is to change. Anyway, here it is:
In the past, I have done different things to my body over a week's time for no other reason than to see what would happen. Recently, I tried GNC's 7-day body flush kit. A few months ago, I ate nothing but Sushi for a week. I've eaten every meal as fast food for a week straight and multiple times, I've drank 7 days in a row. Albeit, sometimes these things weren't deliberate and just happened accidentally. I guess you can say I am like that "Super Size Me" guy, but a little lazier and with attention deficit disorder, since I can only go 7 days.
Here are some introductory facts:
This week happens to be my Spring Break. As an undergrad, I loved Spring Break. It usually meant a road trip, 10 people crammed into a room for 2 at the Holiday Inn, drinking on the beach, a whipped cream machine with no whipped cream, a fist-fight with high-schoolers at a karaoke bar, peeing in a hot tub, etc. Now that I am a second year law student, I've talked about doing Spring Break in Florida again, but most people assume I am joking. So, I stuck around Long Island and agreed to work a forty-hour week at this law firm I've been working at for the past 6 months.
Onto the story:
I've often joked about being a weekday warrior. To be honest, I don't even really like weekends. Bars are too crowded and there are never any drink deals. I've always liked drinking during the week and being a student and my new DVR really accommodate this lifestyle. But what happens when I have a full-time job like all the other jerk-offs in the world, waking up to an alarm clock every morning, commuting, rush hour, etc. Quite frankly, this idea scares me. Although I didn't decide on this plan until Tuesday when I realized it was happening, I am experimenting with the weekday warrior lifestyle combined with a full time job. I laid out three simple rules: First, I cannot go to bed before 2 am any night this week; Second, I have to drink pretty much to the point of blacking out every night; Third, and this is the hardest one, I cannot be late for work, meaning being there before 9am. To be at work at 9:00 am, I have to leave my house at 8:00 am. Like I said, I didn't decide on this plan until Tuesday, but Sunday and Monday I just happened to abide by these rules. Oh yeah, I am not taking any naps either.
Here is a brief diary of the week:
Sunday Night: I watched The Departed by myself. I then started drinking Jameson straight. I finished the Departed about 1am, then ordered Passenger 57 on HBO on Demand. It was here that I start to black out. I am not sure how far I made it into Passenger 57, but I'm pretty sure I remember the part where he says "Always bet on black". I finished half a liter of Jameson.
Monday Morning: Woke up about 7:45 am. I felt awful. I chugged all the water that was in my Brita then hopped in the shower. I threw up a little bit in the shower (sorry roommates). Grabbed a Fruit punch vitamin water on my way to work. Time I clocked into work: 8:40 am.
Monday Night: Went to Duggans with Matt to watch the NCAA championship. We got in there about 9:15 pm. I refused to do any shots, but the 6 pitchers we split made the night a little blury. I do not remember what time we left, but I would estimate 1:00 am - 1:30 am. We had a fairly racist cab driver on the way home who recommended we try a strip club on the South Shore some night. This was the most sober night of the week. I also had a Quarter Pounder and medium fries from McDonald's on my way home.
Tuesday Morning: I didn't feel all that bad. Thinking back on it, nothing remarkable happened or I just cannot remember. I had a chef salad and a liter of Poland Spring water for lunch, making this one of the healthiest days of the week. Time I clocked into work: 8:53 am.
Tuesday Night: I saw Blades of Glory and then go to Chrebet's with Donna at about 11pm. I drank 5 Makers Marks and Ginger Ales. I did not think I was that drunk, but I do remember watching "24" on my DVR after getting home.
Wednesday Morning: I wake up at about 7:50 am feeling awful and tired. Although I recall watching "24" the night before, I do not remember any pertinent details from the episode. I will have to re-watch it later in the week. The rest of the day was uneventful. Time I clocked into work: 8:55 am.
Wednesday night: Drink 2 beers at Matt's house and then he drives to the train station. We get to Duggans at about 9:15 pm again. We drink several (I forgot just how many) pitchers of beer. Someone buys us a shots of Jameson. The last thing I had eaten was a 6" Subway Club at about 5pm, so I get pretty drunk. We catch the 1:13 am train back to Matt's car. We both pee in the parking lot. I remember thinking he shouldn't drive. He drives us to Taco Bell. I eat an order of zesty nachos, a taquito, a mexi-melt and a 7 layer burrito. This would be my drunkest night of the week.
Thursday Morning: I feel like crap. My eyes are pretty much crusted shut. When I finally open them, I am not surprised to find they are also completely bloodshot. I tell myself that I am going to just have to be late for work. But I remember my pact with myself and get out of bed. I cannot find any clean clothes but do not care. I drink one of those Minute Maid apple juice boxes, which may have eclipsed fruit punch Vitamin Water and the mojito as my new favorite hangover drink. All I do at work is set up a Myspace account so now I have one more thing to waste time with on the Internet. Time I clock into work: 8:51 am.
Thursday Night: No one really wants to go out and I don't want to spend any money anyway. I watch The Office and 30 Rock while drinking 4 beers. I then decide it is time to catch up on my DVR'ed television shows from the week. Out comes the Jameson. I really do not want to go downstairs for ice or a cup, so I drink it out of the bottle. I re-watch "24" and then "The Black Donnelly's". My dad calls me and we talk for a few minutes. I then watch "Jericho". I promise myself I am going to have my dad teach me how to play bridge this summer. I then watch "Lost" and polish off the Jameson. Before going to bed, I decide that I am a lot like Jack Bauer.
Friday Morning: Don't feel bad, but don't feel great. Not so much tired as completely brain dead. Today at work I will do nothing. I will have to re-watch "Lost" as I was pretty much blacked out. I remember bits and pieces of the fight between Kate and Juliette and that is it. I tried a Gatorade AM for the first time and it is delicious. Time I clock into work: 8:55 am.
To conclude, I think I could handle this. I've averaged 5.5 hours of sleep a night, which really isn't that bad. I know it's not healthy, but tomorrow I could get hit by a bus and die. I mean, you're either living on the edge or you're taking up too much space.
Sorry about the length of this post and for those of you that made it this far, I thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I don't know what I am doing tonight. Tomorrow I am doing a lunch/dinner at Outback and am seeing Point Break Live in the city, so I should probably save my energy.
In the past, I have done different things to my body over a week's time for no other reason than to see what would happen. Recently, I tried GNC's 7-day body flush kit. A few months ago, I ate nothing but Sushi for a week. I've eaten every meal as fast food for a week straight and multiple times, I've drank 7 days in a row. Albeit, sometimes these things weren't deliberate and just happened accidentally. I guess you can say I am like that "Super Size Me" guy, but a little lazier and with attention deficit disorder, since I can only go 7 days.
Here are some introductory facts:
This week happens to be my Spring Break. As an undergrad, I loved Spring Break. It usually meant a road trip, 10 people crammed into a room for 2 at the Holiday Inn, drinking on the beach, a whipped cream machine with no whipped cream, a fist-fight with high-schoolers at a karaoke bar, peeing in a hot tub, etc. Now that I am a second year law student, I've talked about doing Spring Break in Florida again, but most people assume I am joking. So, I stuck around Long Island and agreed to work a forty-hour week at this law firm I've been working at for the past 6 months.
Onto the story:
I've often joked about being a weekday warrior. To be honest, I don't even really like weekends. Bars are too crowded and there are never any drink deals. I've always liked drinking during the week and being a student and my new DVR really accommodate this lifestyle. But what happens when I have a full-time job like all the other jerk-offs in the world, waking up to an alarm clock every morning, commuting, rush hour, etc. Quite frankly, this idea scares me. Although I didn't decide on this plan until Tuesday when I realized it was happening, I am experimenting with the weekday warrior lifestyle combined with a full time job. I laid out three simple rules: First, I cannot go to bed before 2 am any night this week; Second, I have to drink pretty much to the point of blacking out every night; Third, and this is the hardest one, I cannot be late for work, meaning being there before 9am. To be at work at 9:00 am, I have to leave my house at 8:00 am. Like I said, I didn't decide on this plan until Tuesday, but Sunday and Monday I just happened to abide by these rules. Oh yeah, I am not taking any naps either.
Here is a brief diary of the week:
Sunday Night: I watched The Departed by myself. I then started drinking Jameson straight. I finished the Departed about 1am, then ordered Passenger 57 on HBO on Demand. It was here that I start to black out. I am not sure how far I made it into Passenger 57, but I'm pretty sure I remember the part where he says "Always bet on black". I finished half a liter of Jameson.
Monday Morning: Woke up about 7:45 am. I felt awful. I chugged all the water that was in my Brita then hopped in the shower. I threw up a little bit in the shower (sorry roommates). Grabbed a Fruit punch vitamin water on my way to work. Time I clocked into work: 8:40 am.
Monday Night: Went to Duggans with Matt to watch the NCAA championship. We got in there about 9:15 pm. I refused to do any shots, but the 6 pitchers we split made the night a little blury. I do not remember what time we left, but I would estimate 1:00 am - 1:30 am. We had a fairly racist cab driver on the way home who recommended we try a strip club on the South Shore some night. This was the most sober night of the week. I also had a Quarter Pounder and medium fries from McDonald's on my way home.
Tuesday Morning: I didn't feel all that bad. Thinking back on it, nothing remarkable happened or I just cannot remember. I had a chef salad and a liter of Poland Spring water for lunch, making this one of the healthiest days of the week. Time I clocked into work: 8:53 am.
Tuesday Night: I saw Blades of Glory and then go to Chrebet's with Donna at about 11pm. I drank 5 Makers Marks and Ginger Ales. I did not think I was that drunk, but I do remember watching "24" on my DVR after getting home.
Wednesday Morning: I wake up at about 7:50 am feeling awful and tired. Although I recall watching "24" the night before, I do not remember any pertinent details from the episode. I will have to re-watch it later in the week. The rest of the day was uneventful. Time I clocked into work: 8:55 am.
Wednesday night: Drink 2 beers at Matt's house and then he drives to the train station. We get to Duggans at about 9:15 pm again. We drink several (I forgot just how many) pitchers of beer. Someone buys us a shots of Jameson. The last thing I had eaten was a 6" Subway Club at about 5pm, so I get pretty drunk. We catch the 1:13 am train back to Matt's car. We both pee in the parking lot. I remember thinking he shouldn't drive. He drives us to Taco Bell. I eat an order of zesty nachos, a taquito, a mexi-melt and a 7 layer burrito. This would be my drunkest night of the week.
Thursday Morning: I feel like crap. My eyes are pretty much crusted shut. When I finally open them, I am not surprised to find they are also completely bloodshot. I tell myself that I am going to just have to be late for work. But I remember my pact with myself and get out of bed. I cannot find any clean clothes but do not care. I drink one of those Minute Maid apple juice boxes, which may have eclipsed fruit punch Vitamin Water and the mojito as my new favorite hangover drink. All I do at work is set up a Myspace account so now I have one more thing to waste time with on the Internet. Time I clock into work: 8:51 am.
Thursday Night: No one really wants to go out and I don't want to spend any money anyway. I watch The Office and 30 Rock while drinking 4 beers. I then decide it is time to catch up on my DVR'ed television shows from the week. Out comes the Jameson. I really do not want to go downstairs for ice or a cup, so I drink it out of the bottle. I re-watch "24" and then "The Black Donnelly's". My dad calls me and we talk for a few minutes. I then watch "Jericho". I promise myself I am going to have my dad teach me how to play bridge this summer. I then watch "Lost" and polish off the Jameson. Before going to bed, I decide that I am a lot like Jack Bauer.
Friday Morning: Don't feel bad, but don't feel great. Not so much tired as completely brain dead. Today at work I will do nothing. I will have to re-watch "Lost" as I was pretty much blacked out. I remember bits and pieces of the fight between Kate and Juliette and that is it. I tried a Gatorade AM for the first time and it is delicious. Time I clock into work: 8:55 am.
To conclude, I think I could handle this. I've averaged 5.5 hours of sleep a night, which really isn't that bad. I know it's not healthy, but tomorrow I could get hit by a bus and die. I mean, you're either living on the edge or you're taking up too much space.
Sorry about the length of this post and for those of you that made it this far, I thank you for letting me get that off my chest. I don't know what I am doing tonight. Tomorrow I am doing a lunch/dinner at Outback and am seeing Point Break Live in the city, so I should probably save my energy.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Introduction to Cinematic Greatness
I would like to take a step back from the previous posts. I am a little disappointed with myself in terms of what I have been writing. I have seen myself on a downward spiral of comparing great books to silly movies, talking about how cool Jack Bauer is and discussing sandwiches. I feel as if I have some great ideas to bring forth, provocative ideas, but I have not been getting the chance. Over the past few months I have written a screenplay. I have been weary of releasing the entire thing on noseintheair, but decided tonight, thanks to booze, to post approximately the first five minutes of the script. Enjoy. (Note: If any part of the text below appears in a different color or has a date next to it, most likely it is a link. You are encouraged to explore all of the following links as they are actual links to actual movies or actors, courtesy of http://www.imdb.com/)
A quick little background: The past 10 years have seen a revolution in the film industry. That revolution has been lead by one fine actor. That actor's name is Buddy the Dog, a Golden Retriever from California. Buddy was made famous by filling in for Comet the Dog on the smash television show, Full House, while the original Comet was on vacation. Unbelievably, many critics list Buddy as a better Comet than the original, which led to a career-long rivalry between the two underrated actors. However, that is neither here nor there. Buddy began the Air Bud franchise in 1997 and would have carried it into the new millennium had it not been for his untimely death in 1998 after a long battle with cancer. It was decided before he died, however, that Buddy's character would be a multi-sport athlete and not just a basketball player. Much the same way Van Halen searched for a new lead singer after the departure of David Lee Roth in 1985, the creators of the Air Bud franchise had another important task: finding a replacement for Buddy. After a few sub-par stand-ins (see Air Bud: Golden Receiver (1998) and Air Bud: World Pup (2000)), the studio landed a contract with Dakota for the fourth film of the franchise, Air Bud: Seventh Inning Fetch (2002). Box office success and critical acclaim went directly to Dakota's head, as a result, the versatile actor demanded too much in salary and merchandising rights for the next film, Air Bud: Spikes Back (2003) and was denied the role. Many fans thought this was the end of the proud franchise. However, the legendary character has come back for a the most recent installment of the series, Air Buddies (2006). Not only does this work of art take a break from the sports themes of the prior installments, but for the first time we are exposed to Buddy's voice, as portrayed by the not-at-all-desperate-for-work, Tom Everett Scott.
Without further ado, I give you....
Air Bud 7: First Blood
<His old ways behind him, Buddy is serving as a seeing eye dog for a blind Buddhist Monk. While working at the monastery, Buddy receives a telegram informing him his former friend, Jack, the hockey playing/skateboarding/snowboarding primate from MVP (2000), MVP 2 (2001) and MXP (2003) has been kidnapped and forced to play for the North Korean hockey team. Patriotically refusing to perform, the chimpanzee was brutally tortured to death and a video tape of the execution was sent to the major American news stations. Flags are at half-mast.>
Buddhist Monk: Buddy, you know what the right thing to do is.
Buddy: Woof-woof, arf!
Buddhist Monk: Buddy! What have you learned in the last 7 years! Violence never solves anything!
Buddy: Bark!
Buddhist Monk: What the North Koreans done cannot be undone, so stop thinking about it.
Buddy: Woof-Woof!
Buddhist Monk: Buddy, you have always been your own person, and I cannot control what you are about to do. What is important is that you know the right thing and act upon it.
Buddy: Grrrrr!
A quick little background: The past 10 years have seen a revolution in the film industry. That revolution has been lead by one fine actor. That actor's name is Buddy the Dog, a Golden Retriever from California. Buddy was made famous by filling in for Comet the Dog on the smash television show, Full House, while the original Comet was on vacation. Unbelievably, many critics list Buddy as a better Comet than the original, which led to a career-long rivalry between the two underrated actors. However, that is neither here nor there. Buddy began the Air Bud franchise in 1997 and would have carried it into the new millennium had it not been for his untimely death in 1998 after a long battle with cancer. It was decided before he died, however, that Buddy's character would be a multi-sport athlete and not just a basketball player. Much the same way Van Halen searched for a new lead singer after the departure of David Lee Roth in 1985, the creators of the Air Bud franchise had another important task: finding a replacement for Buddy. After a few sub-par stand-ins (see Air Bud: Golden Receiver (1998) and Air Bud: World Pup (2000)), the studio landed a contract with Dakota for the fourth film of the franchise, Air Bud: Seventh Inning Fetch (2002). Box office success and critical acclaim went directly to Dakota's head, as a result, the versatile actor demanded too much in salary and merchandising rights for the next film, Air Bud: Spikes Back (2003) and was denied the role. Many fans thought this was the end of the proud franchise. However, the legendary character has come back for a the most recent installment of the series, Air Buddies (2006). Not only does this work of art take a break from the sports themes of the prior installments, but for the first time we are exposed to Buddy's voice, as portrayed by the not-at-all-desperate-for-work, Tom Everett Scott.
Without further ado, I give you....
Air Bud 7: First Blood
<His old ways behind him, Buddy is serving as a seeing eye dog for a blind Buddhist Monk. While working at the monastery, Buddy receives a telegram informing him his former friend, Jack, the hockey playing/skateboarding/snowboarding primate from MVP (2000), MVP 2 (2001) and MXP (2003) has been kidnapped and forced to play for the North Korean hockey team. Patriotically refusing to perform, the chimpanzee was brutally tortured to death and a video tape of the execution was sent to the major American news stations. Flags are at half-mast.>
Buddhist Monk: Buddy, you know what the right thing to do is.
Buddy: Woof-woof, arf!
Buddhist Monk: Buddy! What have you learned in the last 7 years! Violence never solves anything!
Buddy: Bark!
Buddhist Monk: What the North Koreans done cannot be undone, so stop thinking about it.
Buddy: Woof-Woof!
Buddhist Monk: Buddy, you have always been your own person, and I cannot control what you are about to do. What is important is that you know the right thing and act upon it.
Buddy: Grrrrr!
Saturday, January 13, 2007
On Sandwiches...
I had a little late night grub with some of friends last night. What I ate, which will be described below, inspired this entry about some of the most unhealthy sandwiches (and the stories behind them) I have ever come across. Strap on your seatbelt for this culinary adventure that will take you across the United States!
Last night- The Bomb from Cherry Valley Deli in West Hempstead, NY. This immaculate creation features grilled steak, bacon, cheddar, onion rings and gravy all on a toasted garlic hero (which basically means on garlic bread). Thank goodness they do not have a website with a calorie calculator because I am estimating it to be in the 1600+ range. Coincidentally, this 24-hour Long Island deli could also serve as a Pringles' Museum as it had a bigger selection of the tennis-ball-canned potato chips than I have ever seen before.
2004ish- The deep-fried stuffed cheeseburger from Tuckers Tavern in New Orleans, LA. This and the following sandwich should help to explain why New Orleans is consistently ranked as one of the most unhealthy cities in the United States and why I gained 40 or so pounds while living there. Anyway, I had been hearing about a restaurant with deep-fried cheeseburgers for a while during my New Orleans experience. I thought it was a myth, but when I was a senior I found what I was missing. Tucker's Tavern is a hidden gem in the city located near the Superdome. It is far enough off the beaten path that it mostly caters to locals and a few lucky visitors. It is more of a bar than a restaurant and it has a normal menu, with the exception of the deep-stuffed cheeseburger page. They had about 8 or 10, all of which I tried, but I will fill you in on my favorites:
1999ish - The Octal-Octal from In-N-Out Burger in Phoenix, AZ. All right, I made this sandwich up. It is not on the menu, but I did order it. Back when I was in high school, a burger chain from California (In-N-Out) made local headlines by opening a few locations in Phoenix. Everyone loves In-N-Out for its friendly service and great fast food burgers. For the first few months, going to an In-N-Out meant waiting in line for 90 minutes before ordering since the Valley of the Sun could not get enough of these heavenly burgers. The prices 8 years ago may or may not be the same. They had an unadvertised special at In-N-Out was $1.50 for a the first patty and $1 for each additional hamburger patty. Most people stop at the famous "Double-Double" which is two patties. If you have never eaten at an In-N-Out, the hamburgers are of fair size, approximately equivalent to a quarter-pounder from McDonalds. I got to thinking about the record books and inquired to the drive thru attendant (after a 90 minute wait) what was the most patties someone has ever ordered. The answer was something ridiculous like 23. As my group of friends' resident heavy eater, I was dared into gluttony. I conservatively went for 8 patties, hence the name Octal-Octal. I ate the entire thing and an order of French Fries and considered it one of my crowning achievements at the time. Also, In-N-Out's website (http://www.in-n-out.com/) has a nutritional chart. A single cheeseburger has 480 calories while a Double-Double has 670. Assuming a single patty is 190 calories (670-480), the Octal-Octal has an astonishing 1810 calories. Which, at my height and weight would take over 2 hours of running on the treadmill at 6 MPH to burn off.
Lastly on my list is a sandwich I have never had, but have only dreamed about. My friend Evan works for the Gateway Grizzlies, a Minor league baseball team located in Sauget, IL, just outside St. Louis. Evan gave me the heads up back in the beginning of 2006 on this next sandwich, which soon made headlines with obese people everywhere. It is the Krispy Kreme bacon Cheeseburger. Basically it is a bacon cheeseburger served on a Krispy Kreme donut instead of a bun. Here is a link to a better description and picture- http://www.gatewaygrizzlies.com/news/?id=2743.
If you are ever in Sauget, stop by and check out the 2003 Frontier League champions and you may run into me trying my first Krispy Kreme Bacon Cheeseburger.
Last night- The Bomb from Cherry Valley Deli in West Hempstead, NY. This immaculate creation features grilled steak, bacon, cheddar, onion rings and gravy all on a toasted garlic hero (which basically means on garlic bread). Thank goodness they do not have a website with a calorie calculator because I am estimating it to be in the 1600+ range. Coincidentally, this 24-hour Long Island deli could also serve as a Pringles' Museum as it had a bigger selection of the tennis-ball-canned potato chips than I have ever seen before.
2004ish- The deep-fried stuffed cheeseburger from Tuckers Tavern in New Orleans, LA. This and the following sandwich should help to explain why New Orleans is consistently ranked as one of the most unhealthy cities in the United States and why I gained 40 or so pounds while living there. Anyway, I had been hearing about a restaurant with deep-fried cheeseburgers for a while during my New Orleans experience. I thought it was a myth, but when I was a senior I found what I was missing. Tucker's Tavern is a hidden gem in the city located near the Superdome. It is far enough off the beaten path that it mostly caters to locals and a few lucky visitors. It is more of a bar than a restaurant and it has a normal menu, with the exception of the deep-stuffed cheeseburger page. They had about 8 or 10, all of which I tried, but I will fill you in on my favorites:
- The Club - A half pound of ground sirloin stuffed with roast beef, ham, turkey, bacon and cheese. This is then battered and deep-fried. To top it off, it was then dredged in ranch dressing. I have no idea why they took this last step and only my arteries have bothered complaining about it.
- The Cajun - A half pound of ground sirloin stuffed with bacon, spicy cajun sausage and cheese. Once again, battered and deep-fried. It was dredged in hot sauce.
I am sure you are intrigued and your mind may be trying to grasp how this is possible. Basically, these burgers looked like a giant crabcake on a bun. And you guessed it- they were delicious.
2003ish - A French Fry Po' Boy at some shack in Chalmette, LA. I don't remember the specifics of this incident. It was from my New Orleans days, which are a little hazy at best. Anyway, Chalmette is a small town about 25 minutes east of New Orleans. I can't remember the name of the restaurant where I got this monster at, but it was near the water and I heard Chalmette got hit fairly hard by Katrina so it may no longer be there, but lets hope for the best. I remember it was a hot day and I was sweating like a whore in church, which, with the sheer volume of the sandwich, helped to absorb the 14 beers I drank and make it safe for me to drive home. Anyway, a Po' Boy is a sandwich on French bread, much like a 'Hero' in the northeast. This French Fry Po' Boy consisted of a loaf of french bread, buttered and mayonaised, topped with French fries and melted cheese. I am pretty sure it had gravy on it as well. Needless to say, this sandwich has not been endorsed by Dr. Atkins.1999ish - The Octal-Octal from In-N-Out Burger in Phoenix, AZ. All right, I made this sandwich up. It is not on the menu, but I did order it. Back when I was in high school, a burger chain from California (In-N-Out) made local headlines by opening a few locations in Phoenix. Everyone loves In-N-Out for its friendly service and great fast food burgers. For the first few months, going to an In-N-Out meant waiting in line for 90 minutes before ordering since the Valley of the Sun could not get enough of these heavenly burgers. The prices 8 years ago may or may not be the same. They had an unadvertised special at In-N-Out was $1.50 for a the first patty and $1 for each additional hamburger patty. Most people stop at the famous "Double-Double" which is two patties. If you have never eaten at an In-N-Out, the hamburgers are of fair size, approximately equivalent to a quarter-pounder from McDonalds. I got to thinking about the record books and inquired to the drive thru attendant (after a 90 minute wait) what was the most patties someone has ever ordered. The answer was something ridiculous like 23. As my group of friends' resident heavy eater, I was dared into gluttony. I conservatively went for 8 patties, hence the name Octal-Octal. I ate the entire thing and an order of French Fries and considered it one of my crowning achievements at the time. Also, In-N-Out's website (http://www.in-n-out.com/) has a nutritional chart. A single cheeseburger has 480 calories while a Double-Double has 670. Assuming a single patty is 190 calories (670-480), the Octal-Octal has an astonishing 1810 calories. Which, at my height and weight would take over 2 hours of running on the treadmill at 6 MPH to burn off.
Lastly on my list is a sandwich I have never had, but have only dreamed about. My friend Evan works for the Gateway Grizzlies, a Minor league baseball team located in Sauget, IL, just outside St. Louis. Evan gave me the heads up back in the beginning of 2006 on this next sandwich, which soon made headlines with obese people everywhere. It is the Krispy Kreme bacon Cheeseburger. Basically it is a bacon cheeseburger served on a Krispy Kreme donut instead of a bun. Here is a link to a better description and picture- http://www.gatewaygrizzlies.com/news/?id=2743.
If you are ever in Sauget, stop by and check out the 2003 Frontier League champions and you may run into me trying my first Krispy Kreme Bacon Cheeseburger.
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