Man....that is NASTY!

Creepy.

I noticed something today. I've been watching a lot of television lately. Mostly reruns of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and various baseball games. As you may well know, between segments of entertainment, they play various short, quirky and occasionally entertaining quips known as commercials, designed to convince you, the viewer, to purchase an array of products.

There is one particular commercial where a middle-aged gentleman plays a guitar (left-handed, although the guitar is right-handed........it is also the same guitar that I own) and sings a song about the individual parts that form a Snickers candy bar.

I've always liked Snickers. In the pre-diabetes days of my illustrious life, I would eat about ten per day.

Ok, that's not true. In all reality I preferred a Mr. Goodbar or a Nestle Crunch, but a Snickers would do in a sweet-toothed pinch. I mostly reserved candy for the special stomach grumblings of a long road trip, but these days, when my blood sugar plummets, a nice hunk of chocolate helps prevent me from turning into a blue-faced diabetic coma icicle.

Now, to my dismay, this middle-aged candy bar crooner is also featured in a much more disturbing advertisement. He is placed, in this commercial, in the awkward position of hawking VALTREX to you and me. Personally, I don't have genital herpes (unless anyone I've slept with has something they want to tell me?), and I feel some empathic discomfort for those who do. But in all honesty, the last thing I want is a herpes-ridden old fart trying to sing me to sleep with a song about a fucking candy bar. I'd like to eat my chocolate treat in the personal comfort of knowing that my loins are not burning with the fires of little red blisters covering my love machine. 

The immoral of my story is this: Pay attention to commercials. Know who is selling you what. Also know if this person or these people have any little red bumps on their genitals that could cause your own happy times to burn like living hell. And cut back on all that candy you've been eating. You might end up like me and have to shoot up at restaurants before you eat with a bunch of inbreeds telling the waitress that someone is doing drugs at the table. IT'S INSULIN, YOU DUMB F*@%$#*@.

Diggin' For Gold...

So earlier today, I was pickin' my nose.....and I yanked out a glorious piece of booger-art.

I swear to God, this thing looked like a lamb-chop.

Unfreakin' real!

I was gonna take a picture of it, but I don't have a digital camera......so I just flicked it behind the couch along with the other lost treasures from the Mines de Nostril.

I seriously overdid it last night. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Shots are the bane of my existence!

Not to mention the crapload of beer that I steadily funneled down my gullet all night long.

It's good to be home. Seeing people I haven't seen in months. Having these people buy me alcoholic beverages. Then having other people drive me home. It's good to be the King.

Now, if only I could walk. I busted my ankle last week, playing Ultimate Frisbee with David. It's getting better, but it looks like hell......and it's no peach to stand on either!

I was gonna take pictures of that too and show you all the bruises that travel all the way to my knee......but, alas, we've previously discussed my lack-of-camera conundrum.

So, now it's off to watch movies.....keeping a low profile this evening in preparation for Thursday's debauchery!

Rock on. Holla atcha boy!

Garden State 2: The Escape From New Brunswick

Amazing weekend! Straight up awesome!

Here's tha dilly.......

My favorite band in the whole wide world, Toad the Wet Sprocket, has reunited for a summer tour. Having found this out, my homeboy Brandon decides to make a most excellent adventure to see the band in New Jersey. The gig is at Starland Ballroom on June 4th. So B makes his flight to come into the Newark, NJ airport late late on Saturday night. My job was to hop on a train and meet him at the aeropuerto at close to midnight.

Unbeknownst to B and myself, the Newark Airport is the screwiest place on earth......or so we thought.And, like a jackass, I totally missed my stop on the train anyway, so I had to ride to the next stop and then wait for a train to come back in the opposite direction. I talked to Brandon several times after he landed and while I was waiting for the train back to the airport. I even suggested that he should go ahead and pick up the rental car and pick me up from the train station I was waiting at.

Skipping a few unimportant details, I end up at Newark to see Brandon and a BRIGHT YELLOW 2006 Ford Mustang. Initially I was embarrassed to hop into such a gaudy car, but as will later be evidenced, this car would be our Godsend.

Now, Brandon is unbelievably prepared for this trip. He has maps, driving directions, tickets, parking, motel, hot spots, and destinations all totally scouted out and arranged. I, for one, was thoroughly impressed. As we find our way out of the parking garage and later the airport, I assume my job as navigator for our neon yellow spacecraft. In my defense, I have a stellar record as navigator for millions of roadtrips into undiscovered countries, like Kansas and North Carolina. I wholeheartedly blame all things that went wrong on the urban planners in the state of New Jersey. The streets are bonkers (for lack of a better word). There seems to be no way to make a (legal) left turn in the entire state.

We end up taking a poorly marked exit ramp that placed us deep into the heart of downtown Elizabeth, NJ. Without the aide of a GPS locator or a very detailed map (since we were there by accident, B had no map for this situation). We pass by the train station that I was waiting at (so Brandon totally could have picked me up) and make our way back to the interstate. Our first destination is a bar in New Brunswick. Brandon, being the stately beer connosieur that he is, found this place on the internet and they are regarded for their beer selection. Sadly, this idea bombs terribly. We wander in to a bar that is filled with over-dressed ladies and under-dressed gentlemen (yours truly included). There was a band playing that was confused about whether to rip off their sound from Phish or Matchbox 20 (not a good combination). And sadly the beer selection was not what Brandon had planned on. We guzzle our beers and decide to try and book it to a convienience store to grab a sixer and go to the motel.

Oh, right......because New Jersey suuuuuuucks, you can't buy beer in a convienience store. So its off to our suite (read: room with no view) at the Motel 6. Granted, we had to make three or four illegal left turns and one drive down a DO NOT ENTER lane, in order to make it to the "Sixer".

One, two, skip a lot......we get to our hotel.........shoot the breeze.....watch Sportscenter........sack out.

After rolling out of bed at around 11am on Sunday morning, B and I decide that some food would be an excellent way to start the day. We end up at McDonald's (mistake number 37 for those of you scoring at home). I'm going to take a moment away from the jokes for a second. I like to make you laugh, but I'm being dead serious. The employees at this McD's were hands-down the dumbest bunch of morons in history. I actually think that the kid who struggled through his attempt to take my order was retarded. I know that I bust on midgets and retards way too much, but Brandon can vouch for me here......this kid had no brain function.

Here is a summation of our conversation:

"Hi. Welcome. Welcome. Ummmmmm. Welcome to McDonald's. Can I take...., er, serve you?"

".......sure. Lemme get a number 4, no onions, and can I get and iced coffee instead of a soda?"

.....the kid then punches buttons for a solid minute.......

"Do you want fries, mister?"

"Yeah, I want the combo meal.....or whatever you call it here."

"And you want a large coffee?"

"No. I want an iced coffee instead of a soda."

"You mean with your meal? Instead of a soda?"

(shocked!!!!) "Yes. I think you've got it."

The kid wanders off, and stands in the middle of the workspace behind the counter. I don't know if his brain just shut off, but he spaced for a good minute. I eventually end up with a burger, small fries, and a GIANT iced coffee with most of the creamer on the side of the cup, because the kid obviously had no clue how to used the fountain system.

We finally sit down to eat, Brandon having had an equally ridiculous time ordered his breakfast/lunch. As I finish preparing to eat (taking my insulin shot), B has already finished eating.

Fast forward to Brandon and I driving around East Brunswick, searching for a high end wine and spirits store. Brandon loads up on big bottles of hearty, hoppy beers from companies that aren't distributed in LA. We also grab a couple of six packs, a styrofoam cooler box and two bags of ice. We head back to the Motel 6, turn on the Mets game on TV and start drinking.

At around 5, we decide to head to the venue, and maybe catch another bite to eat. We zoom past the venue on a search for some food, and settle on a Philipino Buffet. Most of the food was fantastic and the owner/cook/cashier lady kept trying to make us fill up another plate. The best thing on the menu was this chicken breast stuffed with spinach and cheese and covered in a very buttery/creamy sauce......AWESOME!

I'm realizing that I'm trying to cover every exciting event in this story and its becoming very very longwinded.......well, suck it up.

We get to the Toad show. They rock my face off! The show itself was reasonably uneventful and there is probably someone much more qualified to review this show. I had a blast. B and I got right in front. Pressed against the railing in front of Todd Nichols (the guitar player).

We leave the show at around 11:10pm and head straight to the Motel, where the rest of our six packs (eight beers left) and two Arrogant Bastard Ales are chilled and ready for consumption. We don't go to bed until 2:30 or 3am. Both Brandon and I had 7am flights departing from Newark Airport (which is 30 minutes away from our Motel room). We request a wake up call from the front desk for 4:15am and I set my cell phone alarm for 5 minutes after that. The plan is to wake, shower, haul to the airport and have plenty of time to stroll to our respective planes.

Again......the best laid plans.....

I am woken by a not-so-graceful love-tap on the shoulder from the Amazing Brand-O. It is now 5:37am and we have not ripped ourselves from the sweet slumber of all-night drinking. We both hurredly sweep all of our belongings into the bags we packed and run out of the door. Here is where the Yellow Mustang becomes worth the mention. We have a 30 minute drive and only 15 minutes to be there.

Brandon wins the Awesome Driver award.

115mph. Arrived at Newark a few moments past 6am.

I'm in North Carolina for a few days, then back to BR for some much needed home time!

Perhaps it has been too long...

Hello everyone.

....or anyone........

A friend of mine pointed out recently that I haven't blogged in a long time. She wanted to know if I was still alive. The answer, surprisingly, is yes. I have been laying low over the last few months. Plus, lengthy access to a computer has been reduced due to a certain roommate (mainly, that the computer is hers and I hide out in my room when she's home).

This is not to say that I haven't had some (not-so-) exciting bolg topics to share with you!

In February, I moved into this new space. It was a Craigslist find.....so i didn't know either of my roommates before moving in. I tucked myself into my jail-cell of a room and tried to be reasonably invisible. I get along with one roomie, while the other kind of drives me batty.

March was a monumental waste of time.

In April, I shaved my beard off. I had grown the beard in the beginning of October, and although I had trimmed it several times (when I shaved my head), I never cut it off until April 2. I have the pictures of the shave, including several variations on facial hair ideas (including: handlebar moustache, pornstar moustache, etc.). Sadly these pictures reside on my sister's hard drive......and being that I moved out of her apartment two months prior, it made it difficult to upload them, thus cancelling my blog post. The reason for the shave was Opening Day. I, along with three friends, attended Major League Baseball's Opening Day at Shea Stadium. We watched the New York Mets beat the Washington Nationals, 3-2. It was a great day, but it was so amazingly cold.

May has been decent. John came to visit, and although I had to work a lot and I was sick, I think we had fun. I spent last weekend at the Jersey Shore, near Asbury Park (think: Bruce Springsteen). We went to a bowling alley that has bands play in the middle of the lanes. We bowled while this horrible white-boy dub band played, and then the lanes were turned off when surf-guitar legend Dick Dale took the stage. "Who is that?" you ask. If you've seen Pulp Fiction, you've heard his music......it's pretty much the theme song to the movie.

Ashley and G-dub are coming to visit today. Hopefully that will mean more baseball games and excitement......but it won't squelch the homesickness.

I've played a few gigs this spring. In fact, I've played a lot more than I thought I would.....but never to more than 10 or 15 people. And it's not like I'm raking in the dough ($$) here. I figure I could play for the same size crowds back home for more money and at least the bartenders would buy me a consolatory Shiner Bock for my efforts.

At the same time, I feel like I'm accomplishing something by staying in New York. Whenever I was a kid and was at summer camp, I would get homesick and beg my parents to come get me. Now, even though I complain just as much, if not more.......my parents aren't coming to get me. I'm on my own. It's scary as hell......especially since my sister (who dragged me up here in the first place) just moved to New Orleans. She got a job with the Louisiana Recovery Authority. I'm happy for her......but i now have a bit of a desertion complex.

I feel like less of a man, for admitting I'm still a boy. Oh well.

Glen Phillips just put out a new EP and a new Record. They are both AMAZING. I went and saw him play a week ago or so.......also, AMAZING!!!!

And the cherry on top, is Brandon is coming in a few days, and we're going to see Toad the Wet Sprocket re-unite........At least that's some excitement!

"I'm Just Sayin'..."

So I've just knocked out a "sixer" of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (John & Adam, I know you guys hate it, but stay with me here.....) and I'm bored as snot. The Olympics are leaving many, many, many things to be desired and I have some random yet exciting ideas that I would like to share with you.

First thing's first. I have finally made the transition from my sister's couch to a total stranger's couch!!!!! Hooray!

No, in all reality, I just moved into a new place......well, not just moved....it's been a couple of weeks now. Everything is cool. I have two roommates. Both are girls. That's ok.....i'm used to living with girls.....I have three sisters. I still don't feel like this is home.....it feels more like I'm house-sitting! I wake up in the morning and nobody is here....so i wander around in my boxers, watch TV, eat food that is in the fridge, and kill time until I have to go to work at my job that I loathe. Fun, right?

At least I'm catching up on old episodes of ER!

Something I've also noticed is that "I'm just sayin'..." has become the new phrase to abdictate oneself from all responsibility before stating an observation, comment, or rhetorical question.

For example: "I'm just sayin'.....Your face looks like somebody beat you upside the head with a bag of pennies!"

See? All blame has been removed from the statement.

The phrase can even be used at the end of a sentence:

"Your mom was a whore and now you are a whore..........I'm just sayin' !!"

I've noticed this phrase used by many New Yorker's since moving to the city, and now I'm even picking it up on TV shows and movies. It is weird to feel like you started a phenomenon, but still know that you have very little effect on anyone that has any contact to you.

On the same topic, I've also noticed that "Yeah, yeah, yeah" has replaced "Yada, yada, yada." as the end all, catch all phrase for New Yorkers. This is completely different and totally unrelated to the band, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

For example: "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I totally had sex with that girl!"

See how the details of the story no longer matter now that they have been replaced with "yeah, yeah, yeah"?

For your reference, the phrase can also be used to answer questions, state agreement, or even indifference!

So now that I've caught you up on my most recent discoveries and such, I'm off to waste even more time by watching the latest movie I have received from Netflix. Peace!

No Visible Scars

I'm actually quite relieved.
You know when you do something stupid and regret the outcome later? Of course you do. Sadly, that is the story of my life.
For those of you keeping tabs, I've covered the topic of this blog before.
You can actually catch up here.


Caught up? No? You didn't read the whole thing did you?
ok. short version:
boy meets girl. boy and girl date. boy and girl break up. boy turns into drunk blubbering idiot. boy inadvertantly causes bodily injury to top of head. boy ends up in ER.
now back to my ramblings:

Since that day, I've kept my hair long for fear of showing off my Captain Idiot Badge. But today I could no longer take it. It is really cold here in New York, as I have also covered here before. In order to maintain body heat, a warm wooly cap is required.

Warm wooly caps Long hair Cold Weather = Static electricity.
Static Electricity = bane of my existence.

So I buckled under pressure while I was at walgreens. I bought a hair clipper. And yes......it's all gone....And you can't even see the knick in my noggin!!!! But fear not. I took a before and after picture.



Other than that, I've been up to nothing.
I had this great blog planned about this time at work last week where this dude's ass exploded, but it was pretty vulgar and I didn't feel this was the proper arena.....and mostly because it wasn't as funny as the porno story.

Back to the Big City

I kept meaning to post a blog while I was actually back home. I mean, I counted down the days until I was back in my comfortable southern surroundings and I had the time of my life for nearly three weeks. I guess I just never got around to it. So many incredible things happened while I wandered around my hometown with my friends and family. And then it ended. It was over. No out-of-proportioned last hurrah. No fireworks.....well that's not true. At one point I ate at a table of 28 people, but only knew like 7 of them.

I'm now back in the Great White North. Well, it's at least the farthest north I've ever been. And it's no longer white, just cold. Apparently it didn't snow at all while I was gone. And even though snow and ice can be tricky to deal with while walking on it, it at least provides much prettier scenery to take your mind of how bloody awful cold it is.

I spent a lot of time with my friends. I got to see so many people that I wanted to and even some that I didn't expect to see. I only missed out on seeing a few, but it was mostly/hardly my fault, depending on who you ask. Plus some certain folks were no longer in town, either by choice or not. If you're reading this, you probably know who you are and what category you fit into.

I got to meet my 8-month old niece for the first time. Even though that last sentence was totally redundant, Gianna is absolutely darling and quite a handful for my sister to deal with. She'll be a heartbreaker in no time! I also got to spend a ton of time with my five nephews. I bought my nephews some toys for Christmas. Micah (who is 5 years old) got a talking Darth Vader Mask. It was hilarious seeing him trounce around with this helmet that was half his size and hearing this booming voice instead of his tiny little chuckles.

I got to play music with some of my most excellently talented friends who also happen to be some of my best friends in all of the whole world. It was an amazing show and the amazement was doubled by the fact that so many people showed up. At one point, there were at least 150 people in the bar. I've played in front of as many as 1200 people and a bunch of huge crowds before, but for some reason, this measly 150 felt very empowering. Hearing Ray beat the snot out of his drums behind me again gave me goosebumps at several points throughout the evening. Sharing the stage with Brandon and John was more comfortable than it has ever been. And having David there as an opener was great. I wish more people would have been as excited about his set as I was. I feel bad not having David play with me, but I know he would have wanted to get a few practices in and there didn't seem like there was time. I also wish Tom had played on his songs too, but having him come out to see the show was good too.

New Year's Eve was a fantastic event. Small, but with mostly everyone I'd have wanted to be around. A 'fridge full of beer, Fireworks, Football, and Breakfast at 3am were all a boy could have wished for. It has been a small tradition of mine over the last few years to engage in a battle of wills, but with Roman Candles. Sadly, this tradition took a year off, but bottle rockets and the "depth charges" off the side of the canoe in Brandon's lake were more than an acceptable replacement. The alligator sighting and subsequent "paddle-for-your-life" experience was more enjoyable than scary, although those tables might have been turned if said alligator had decided to eat three grown men in a boat as opposed to several tiny ducks with no sense. And to think, I just spent the last seven months here in NYC trying to convince people that not everyone in Louisiana lives near water, owns a boat, or has a gator in their backyard.

So that kind of explains why I'm bummed that I am back in New York, but does nothing to explain why I chose to come back here.
I'll work on trying to figure that out for next time.
Be good.

Dude Looks Like a Lady

So before I begin to bitch about how god-awful cold it is here, I wanted to tell you all about a few other things.

Last week, I got a call from my friend Mark Partlow. Mark is a guy I've known for at least 7 or 8 years now and he is a super cool guy and a great guitar player. He and his wife Tish, who also happens to be super cool, were in New York to see another friend of theirs who dances on "Broadway". So Saturday night I head down to the part of Manhattan know as Chelsea. It's kind of on the west side of the lower third of the island. I end up meeting Mark and Tish at a bar called the Viceroy. It's a cool little place that has almost an old diner vibe to it, that has been transformed into a bar.

So we're having our drinks and enjoying a conversation. I met their friend Trey, who had just finished a performance in "Moving Out" (the musical with Billy Joel songs). Soon enough, the DJ, who had been spinning some old R&B tunes, announces that the "Candace Cane Show" is about to begin. Everyone turns their attention toward a spotlight pointing to the back of the club.

A really terrible song begins to play and a woman dressed in a see through black dress and bra and thong begins to lustfully wander toward the stage while singing along with the awful pre-recorded track.

As I crane my neck to observe the spectacle at the front of the bar, I notice first that this chick has a massive set of fake breasts. I'm not talking Pam Anderson-huge.....but big enough to catch a person's eye for a moment or so. As I begin to glance up I notice a pronounced adam's apple and strongly chiseled jaw bone. I was able to process pretty quickly that I was taking in my first ever transvestite drag-queen show.

It was shortly after I was finished processing this equipment that the following realization hit me (I'll guide you through exactly what popped into my brain):

I'm at a drag show.
I'm at a drag show with Mark Partlow.
Mark Partlow plays guitar.
Mark Partlow played guitar in a band with my old youth leader.
I know Mark Partlow through my old youth leader.
I know Mark Partlow through church.
I'm at a drag show with Mark Partlow.

It was incredibly surreal to be standing next to this guy while watching what ended up to be a pretty funny show! Candace was incredibly funny and had the ability to keep balance in these really tall, skinny heels while doing twirls and kicks. Even though it was about 25 degrees outside at the time, she used her entire surroundings, meaning she would walk outside of the bar and dance in the street and on the sidewalk and interview passers-by.

I ended up having a blast and to capitalize on the surreal nature of the evening, Mark and Tish and I had our picture taken with Candace......which I hope to put up as soon as Mark emails me the photo.

On to less hilarious fodder......

Goddamn it's COLD!!!!!!
I seriously am freezing to death.
It got really really cold, really really quickly!
Last monday it was like 65 degrees. Today it was 34 degrees.
The cool part is that it has snowed a few evenings and is supposed to snow three inches tonight. The uncool part is that the wind is blowing sometimes close to 25 mph, which is BRUTAL!

Two more news snippets before I leave you to ponder your life.
-Mixing is finished for my record! I hope to have it mastered and manufactured incredibly soon!
-I'm coming home in twelve days!

Jersey House Parties and GoGo Dancers

What a weird weekend. It started early for me, but the last few days have been incredibly odd. It all began on thursday, when my friend Anibal (whom I work with at the museum) had some of his artwork on display at a benefit show for a girl who is my age, but is stricken with ovarion cancer.

So I end up at this art benefit, which is being held in this very tiny room above a bar. The place is packed with artists, hipsters, hip-hoppers, punks, freaks.........and me. After a $10 donation at the door, which I was more than happy to give since the money went directly to the girl with cancer, they give you two green tickets which I happily exchanged for two Red Stripe beers. Since the place was so packed, I decided to get both beers at one time and just walk around "double fisted".

I meet up with Anibal and his buddy Ron (who looks exactly like Bernie Williams) and we hang out for a while at the art opening. Also hanging out were Al's brother Ed, this guy Ken and Ron's neighbor, Mel. These are all characters that come into play later in the story and the weekend in general. After about half an hour or so, the plan changes because somebody who knew somebody was having a party that somehow involves models and free drinks, and so that means we're off to a club!

I swear we must have killed another twenty minutes standing outside waiting for the whole crew to assemble and my only problem with this was that it was 35 degrees outside. So as we're standing outside, and I'm personally freezing my nuts off, more details come to light about where we're headed. Basically, everyone but me knows this one guy who works with a modeling agency and the agency was hosting a party for their models at a club called "GoGo". Now, where I'm from gogo is simply a type of dancing where a scantily clad young lady is essentially trapped in a cage and forced to dance. According to Ed, in New York "gogo" is just another form of strip joint. As we finally arrive, we are all on the guest list (nice) and are escorted into the area that the party was just getting started.

BEAUTIFUL GIRLS TO MY LEFT!
BEAUTIFUL GIRLS TO MY RIGHT!

I'm astounded by how many gorgeous girls there are at this party. Wandering up to the bar, we discover that the free drinks consist of Budweiser bottles and house vodka drinks. I'm not a fan of either variety but I am not one to discriminate when the word 'free' is involved. I order a Bud and the bartender apparently thought i asked for two, so again I'm double-fisted. Things could be worse.

As it turns out, "GoGo" was not in fact a strip club, but a dance club with the gogo dancers that I was expecting. Everyone was fairly disappointed. The models made up for it. And then there was the VIP hostess. Holy crap. This girl was quite hot and she made every guy in the room stare at her. She was wearing some tiny little tank top that barely covered the special bits of her ENORMOUS fake breasts. It was like I was in seventh grade squinting at scrambled porn, I just couldn't keep my eyes off of them. And she knew it too, which made things worse, because if I happened to be looking in her direction she knew I was gonna glance down!

As the evening progresses, the free drinks begin to catch up with everyone. Ron and Mel are standing in front of one of the dancer's platforms taking pictures in an attempt to get a dancer in the background. Ed and Ken are trying very hard to get up on the VIP platform to dance with these two Madison Ave. princesses. Al and I are nursing beers from each hand, just scoping the crowd. It is during this moment that Al leans over and points out a person in the room that was famous. It was Wonder Mike, of the legendary hip-hop group "The Sugarhill Gang", known for their song "Rapper's Delight". I'm not saying I wasn't impressed by seeing the guy, but I was more impressed (as was the rest of the room) when Sugarhill Gang took the stage and performed. It apparently was a performance that wasn't planned. The whole place went nuts!

The "show" was over and we're ready to split, but quickly notice that Ken has disappeared. As we step outside, Al calls Ken and asks him where he went. Turns out, Ken felt like he was getting sick, so he bolted out of the club and proceeded to wander up 6th ave from 19th street to 23rd street, ralphing on every block along the way. I find this funny, but its even funnier to me, because I'm glad it wasn't me.

That was a long story for one night, but it is not where my weekend stopped.Friday night, Mel was having a party at his house in Jersey City, NJ. This was my first venture into the odd and twisted land that is the Garden State.

I ride over with Anibal and Ed and as we leave the city through the Holland Tunnel and re-emerge in another state, it was strangely similar to entering an alternate universe. Life seemed to slow down to a snail's pace. Traffic was non-existent. People seemed happier and in less of a rush. All of these things are pretty odd considering I haven't left the city in 7 months.

We get to the house at around 10pm, and it was actually very familiar. I miss the house parties that used to be such a staple of life for me, living in the south. But that is where the similarities ended. Mel greets us and is busy DJ-ing (not well, I might add). There is a ton of beer and alcohol and people are pretty well into it by the time we arrive. The highlight of this party of the story is really the people that were in attendance, so I'll skip ahead to my two favorite characters.

First, after several beers, I ended up in a coversation about music with a nomadic Australian kid who had been all over the world, just because he didn't feel like having a day job. We discussed the influence of Pink Floyd and other bands on today's indie music. It was after a long talk that we got into the "favorite bands" category. He spouted off some band I had never heard of and I rattled off "The Beatles". It was at this point that I lost the majority of interest in the conversation. The guy spent the next ten minutes raising his voice about how "overrated the Beatles are". I basically tuned out and began to notice my second favorite character of the night.

Near a door frame, a girl who had arrived much later than my friends and I but was somehow WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY more drunk! I'm pretty sure that the door frame was the only reason she was standing up. Soon enough, my suspicion was proven correct. Let me set this up for you. She was not a small girl. I'd venture to say 5'8", 260 lbs. VERY DRUNK. And then it happened. The girl fell over like a toppled building. She hit the floor so hard it hurt the tile.......no literally, two of the tiles cracked! She was helped to her feet and put in a chair at the kitchen table. Two young ladies proceeded to fix her a glass of water and check to see if she was ok. The next time I turned around, the girl was still sitting in the chair, but the glass of water that she was supposed to be sipping had been replaced by a fresh can of budweiser. Not a bright idea. She then stood up and began dancing near the chair she was sitting in, but sadly had not suddenly regained her balance and she fell over again, this time taking the flimsy table and chair with her. People again rushed to her aid and when asked "Are you ok?" the girl responds "I spilled my beer, get me another one!" I wish I could say that was the end of it, but the girl seriously tumbled like four more times, each subsequent time making terrible attempts to bump and grind with some poor soul that couldn't avoid her fast enough.

Last night was pretty weird too, but I want to save a few stories for when I get home, or else you guys will all think I'm boring and uninteresting. Let's just say I did get to watch the football game (GEAUX TIGERS!!), then later had my Tarot cards read, and ended up taking a cab home at like 6am. Yeah........I'm gonna go take a nap!

I am NOT a Hockey Fan!

What I didn't realize (being a southerner), is that even though baseball is over, football is in full swing, and basketball is about to start, northerners still manage to focus all of their attention on hockey.

What the f***?!?!?!

I attended my first NHL game tonight. The New York Rangers lost to the Pittsburgh Penguins 3-2. I'm not saying it wasn't exciting, I'm just saying that somebody should've thrown a punch or two. The pansy refs wouldn't even let guys get close enough to try and fight.

Remember when you were a kid, and the coolest thing around was playing "Blades of Steel" on your Nintendo gaming console? Boy, I do.
Fighting was the coolest thing you could manage to do in that game. I used to spend hours skating around that computer animated rink just waiting for someone to hit me. Hell, if they'd even look at me wrong, I was gonna throw down!

Which brings me to my next point.
I'm buying an iPod.

I know, I'm a total sellout.......I'm just tired of being the ONLY person in this city that doesn't have one. Seriously, I have a long commute to the museum every morning, and goshdagnabbit, I wanna listen to the Backstreet......er, I mean.....um......Metallica!

So....stay tuned for my triumphant return to the deep south. Be afraid, be very afraid.