The Good

Before we get to the most historic election of our lifetime, a brief note on what I consider the greatest year in sports ever. I’ve followed sports fanatically since I was a little child and while I’m still young, I cannot recall living through nor reading about a year with so many incredible events. The Lakers/Celtics meeting again in the NBA finals. Kansas winning the final four in dramatic overtime fashion. Rafa Nadal and Roger Federer competing in what has been declared the best tennis match ever at Wimbledon. The splendor of the Olympics and Michael Phelps’s eight Gold Medals. And I may be a little biased, but I believe Super Bowl 42 will go down as the greatest football game ever played. It didn’t hurt that the Giants won =)

In the wake of eight years of American citizens being royally pissed with their government, it was clear that the country was indeed ready for a change. Voters came out in droves and elected a man named Barack Hussein Obama. Who happens to be African-American. And I voted for him, and I’m proud of that. Again, much has been said on this most momentous of events that will forever mark 2008 as a watershed year for American culture. I just hope that when he gets down to work the 44th president can follow through on the many promises for change. Like everyone else I know, I’ll be rooting for him.

2008 was indeed a year worth remembering like any true college party would be. Let’s just hope 2009 isn’t anything like the hangovers I used to have after a night in the slum.

If you're still reading: thank you. Please share your feedback and happy new year!

Happy Bday JC

So this may be the sambvuca talking; or the general Christmas high I have been riding on since service last night night. But iwanted to post to throw out some feel goods to my fellow bloggers, some holiday metaphorical ass licking to 4 incredible people I have had the pleasure of getting to know over these last few years.
First , to the least active poster, and the only one of the group whom I have actually lived with; Will Tower. I have never met a more accomplished and driven person then will. There is a great expression that goes,; “ if you want something to get done, give it to someone who’s busy;” Will lives being that guy. He may not always know where hes headed but hes got a good heart and I know he will change the world.

Shannon Cooke is the nicest person I have met in my life. And I know nice is a rather lame comment, but I mean it with the fullest strength of the word. Shannon has an aura of goodness that she obmits and she may be the most gifted listener I have ever encountered.

Rich is an amazing person. Not many can accomplish the things he has, taken the crap hs taken, and still have the ability to make you laugh every time you see him. Toad is the friend that John Blushi protrayed in Animal House; when he sees a friend down, he will smash a bottle over his head to cheer you up. I hope you got that reference, because I just don’t know how else to put it.

Finnally there is Steph. If I track back to freshman year I most likely have spent at least a month’s worth of tiem listening to steph. And I don’t think I have ever been bored by her. Steph has this incredible ability to get completely involved and excited about whatever she is talking about. Its always captivating. She’s just a fun person to be around.

Alright so that’s it everybody, no link, no pictures, just a Merry Christmas post about the other posters. I’m working on my indepth views of this world and the road I’ve traveled, I promise, but lets save the heavy shit for after the new year, and remember that even with all the chaos in our lives, theres still a lot good.
MERRY CHRISTMAS

The Case for Christmas

"It's not the giving, it's not the getting. It's the loving. There, I said it. Now get outta here."- Garfield, A Garfield Christmas

It’s Christmas time once again, for better or worse. I’d like to write something about what how I’ll be spending the holiday, what I’d like to get, and my favorite parts of the season’ but after reading Shannon’s post below I can’t help but try and play devil’s advocate on both sides and maybe make an argument for Christmas.
Let me preface all this by saying I work 35-40 hours a week at a grocery store. (Some day when I have a lot of free time I will write an epic post about my job but I won’t bore you with that right now).
Like many places, from Black Friday onward I have heard nothing – nothing – but fucking politically correct, holiday themed festive songs. I call them that because they are not the Christmas carols I grew up loving (Silent Night, Joy to the World etc.). Those are effectively banned from Stop and Shop. Thus I am forced to work while listening to no less than 8 versions of Winter Wonderland, a half-dozen Sleigh Rides and far too many Jingle Bell Rocks and White Christmases. I’m all for diversity but when political correctness turns my job (which usually sucks a great deal) into a veritable hell than it really pisses me off. So there’s that about Christmas. Like Shannon, the music gets to me.
The other thing is the fact that, as I think we all know Christmas is totally and blatantly over-commercialized. It’s all become one giant excuse to get you to buy something – anything – and it annoys me. What makes me mad this year is that in an economic situation where you would expect many people to accept sacrifices involving presents, wish lists etc., it’s the same old trend of Christmas consumerism. Nothing’s changed since when I first watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas as a kid. Charlie’s friends were obsessed with having the perfect aluminum tree and getting the best part in the Christmas pageant while Charlie just wanted to figure out what Christmas was all about.
There are any number of reasons for people to not be fond of the holidays: not getting what you really want (a better job) and losing a loved one during this time of year is also really tough to handle. I only listed a few reasons above, but for the sake of brevity I’ll switch over and try to make the case for why Christmas is still a great time of year.
My favorite Christmas movie growing up was Mickey’s Christmas Carol (Mickey Mouse by the way. And if you never saw it do yourself a favor and check it out on youtube).
Anyway, I loved Dickens’s parable as a kid for the same reason I love it now – though I probably didn’t realize it as a kid. It’s the idea of redemption. Even the meanest old son of a bitch can still change into a kind-hearted charitable old guy. The other day I saw the live-action version with George C. Scott, one of the best actors ever, as Scrooge.
I really got into it not just because Scott turned Scrooge into a seriously mean bastard but because it was true to the book. Early on, Scrooge’s nephew Fred drops by his office wishing all a Merry Christmas. Scrooge replies, “Christmas? Bah. What good is Christmas? A time for buying things for which you have no money. For finding yourself one year older and not an hour richer. What good has Christmas ever done for anyone? If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”
That’s pretty harsh. But it’s Fred’s response which is crucial to understanding why Christmas really is good and my favorite time of year.
“There are many things from which I might have derived good by which I have not profited, I dare say, Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmastime, when it has come round. as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”
Amen Fred, Amen. Sure 40 hours a week worth of god-awful pop versions of politically correct Christmas music sucks – it sucks a lot. And the fact that a great holiday has been morphed into an attempt to sell consumers out of their last pennies is gay. (New Jersey has more malls than any state in the union so I’ve seen this commercialism thing first-hand since birth.)
No, as Scrooge says, it doesn’t put any gold in your pocket – quite the opposite in fact. But as Fred says, it is also perhaps the only time of year when we recognize that no matter what our differences, we’re all in the same boat cruising along on this journey called life together. And that’s a pretty great excuse for gathering with your loved ones and celebrating.
Have a merry one.

Mouthbreather

Nothing makes me wish I lived with my parents more than being sick. When I was at school and I got sick, my dad would come pick me up and whisk me away to a land of cold medicines and cool washcloths. The pots of soup were bottomless. There, I could lay on the couch and leave my used tissues crumpled up beside me until my mother would come clean them up and bring more tea and well-wishes. I'd get to go to the doctor and blow off classes and I'd be better in two or three days and it was a beautiful thing.

No more. The thing about me is, if I have a cold or a sore throat or something minor, I truck through it. I have no problem self-medicating. But when I have the flu, I regress into childhood and become completely incapable of doing anything myself; including walking, feeding myself, and changing the channel. I whimper and shake uncontrollably like a puppy mill victim. Frankly, it's embarrassing. Walking from my bed to the bathroom takes four hours of stored energy to accomplish.

I also don't eat. This week, I've had two cans of soup and a pint of raspberry sorbet. In the past five days. That's not much food. Granted, I had a few Reese's Peanut Butter Cups too, but that doesn't really count, does it?

So I had an interesting experience while I was sick this time around. My boss called a free clinic for me (as I do not have health insurance), and they told her to send me in. It was the third day I had been incapacitated, so I was anxious to get some sort of help from an adult (Note: I am not an adult. If I were, I would have known to get a fucking flu shot after the first time I got the flu this year). So I take a cab to the clinic. Apparently, when you don't have insurance, "free" means $200. I already spent close to that on Theraflu, Nyquil, Dayquil, Campbell's soup, and raspberry sorbet.

Then, they asked if I had a pay stub. I did. Now, my free clinic trip only costs $150! What a deal! This was only for them to look at me. Any tests would've been extra. Any prescription would have been paid for in full. Not worth it.

I walked back to work in the rain and cried a little (I know, dramatic, but I'm sick and that's what I do) at the prospect that America does not want to help me. Not to make this a political post, but my parents were born here, and I was born here, and we all work FULL TIME, HERE, and I shouldn't have to pay $200 to see some half-ass doctor who will tell me something I already know and prescribe me something I can buy off of a friend for half the price.

During the election, I met a lot of "olds" who would say, "Sweetheart, no doctor would ever turn you away because you didn't have insurance". Meaning since I'm a young, 'white' American, I will be taken care of when I'm sick for free. This is their debate against improving the health care system. Where does this happen? Is there some secret fucking code word I have to use? Maybe a doctor wouldn't turn me away. But I know plenty of receptionists that would.

I returned back to work, and my boss felt terrible for sending my sick ass out into the rain to the non-free clinic. I left work early with some prescription cough medicine that saved my life, and now, two days later, I'm (almost) better. Dr. Mom was disappointed that I took someone else's meds, but it's a Cowboy-and-Indian world the uninsured live in, and I'm just acting accordingly.

I don't have the flu anymore, but I do have a sinus infection. I'd rather have the flu. I've never had a sinus infection before, and it's scary because I can't fucking breathe through my nose. I have Vicks slathered all over me like it's suntan oil. If anyone has any suggestions, please leave them.

'tis the season to be crabby

I preface this entry by reminding everyone about how much i hate the holidays; christmas in particular. According to my mother i have never liked christmas-not even as a child. she says that i always was sullen and upset and generally displeased with the entire day. and this never faltered, no matter what gifts i received or how hard she attempted to make it special.
now, at 23 years old, my disdain for the holiday season hasnt lessened. in fact, now that i am older, it has only increased. I am now capable of hating the holidays by using a much more colorful and interesting vocabulary than ever before. Furthermore, i can actively inform everyone of this hatred and not feel like a grinch no matter how much they try to tell me i am one. For, I am amazingly comfortable in my little house devoid of joy.


This year, though, my joy-less house has been infiltrated by my mother. Apparently, my mother believes that Christmas begins at 12:01 am the day after Thanksgiving. Which means I have seen 10 christmas movies, listened to roughly 150 hours of christmas music, and there are currently 11 (!) christmas trees in my house. It is only december 7th.

To make matters worse I work in mid-town Manhattan. Short blocks from tourist meccas Macy's, the Empire State Building, and Rockefeller Center. I cannot walk anywhere around my building without hearing what i believe is some of the crappiest music ever created: christmas music. Its being piped into the subways like some sort of audible napalm.

I write this as both a warning and a baseline. A warning to those of you who might see me in the upcoming weeks and wonder what you did to make me so angry. I assure you that its the season and not anything you've done (unless you work for Hallmark or compose holiday music and ESPECIALLY if you are responsible for Dominick the fucking Donkey). And as a baseline to judge my breakdown. Maybe Ill give in and accept that this time of year isnt avoidable-if i cant beat 'em join 'em (i doubt it).

And if you hear about a 23 year old lunatic getting arrested for going postal in grand central screaming obscenities about christmas, be prepared, i might be calling you for bail money.

happy holidaze

Let the Bad Times Roll

Earlier this evening, my Blackberry buzzed with a new e-mail. "News Alert: Leaders in Congress Agree on Auto Bailout Plan." I presume the primary vote will be on short-term loans totaling billions of dollars accompanied by the dozens of provisions we've been expecting. No golden parachutes. No private jets. I find it so interesting that while GM has been struggling with steeply declining sales and increased costs, it's somehow found the money to contribute millions to fund a particular campaign leading up to month's election. That same month, execs at each of the 'Big 3' stepped off private jets and onto the tarmac at Washington-Dulles. Following intense questioning and a substantial amount of ridicule, these same execs arrived weeks later from Motor City U.S.A. in each of their brand's finest hybrid vehicles. That'll show 'em what we're thinking, ay guys?

It is impossible to not address the desperate realities we face in this terribly painful economic climate. Let's face it, more and more people are having a real difficult time getting by out there these days. To grasp the current "mess," however, requires a backwards journey. How did previous economic downturns affect Americans, from the poor to the rich? Will history repeat itself? If so, what does history demonstrate as an appropriate timetable for things to turn around? If you ask me, the current recession is nothing short of a "perfect storm." A blatant lack of adequate scrutiny and financial oversight coupled with greed and the bundling of risky mortgages into securities to be sold on Wall Street has been stirring in the proverbial clouds above us for years. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to the many consequences you'll be getting to know quite well until we stop swimming against the current.

Economists, lawmakers, and brokers in our financial and housing markets have spent much of the past few years in a deep denial. Ladies and gentlemen of the United States of America---welcome to your day of reckoning!

Chill the fuck out man

I think I can honestly say now, after being out of college for 6 months, that this has been the hardest transition of my life. I went from four straight years of changing the environment in which I lived in, to now spending my nights back in my childhood bedroom. Which, as a side note, is painted bright as fuck blue, which may not be a Crayola official box used name, but believe me you know the color when you see it. It’s the color that bothers me as much as the reminder I get when I see it; that I at one point my life I thought this would look good.
Thinking back on each of the last four years of college I thought of a story from freshman year that I don’t believe I have told many people. The story is of the only time in my life that I became completely consumed by fear and probably almost shit myself. With all I know now about psychology and what not, I’m pretty sure I experienced what most experts would call a panic attack.

It was freshman year and I was living in Loftus hall room #45a. It was around the middle of October, I remember this specifically because there was a Red Socks playoff game on the night, and being stuck with two redsock fan pricks, it was the only thing we were watching and talking about. Not wanting to miss a second of the game, my suite mate Mike and his friend Joe concocted the genius idea of smoking a blunt in the room. Not having any money or weed at the time, they offered to smoke me on the blunt so long as we smoked it in my room. Seemed like a fair deal, and with the fan in the window, I thought, what harm could come. My roommate Matt decided to head down the hall while we smoked; clearly sensing that maybe this was not a bright idea and wanting no part in the potential trouble this could bring. After finishing up the blunt we decided to leave the scene of the crime and let the room air out a bit. I went down to doug and tex’s to chill and needless to say I was retarded. (Any pot smoker will tell you that smoking with a chance of being caught always intensifies the high.) After bullshitting for about 5 minutes with those guys we hear for the first time ever in Loftus hall the fucking fire alarm. Immediately I’m sent into a panic, if for no other reason, then from the usually paranoia of being high and hearing loud unexpected noises. As were walking down the hall I begin to think in my head about how that smoke could have some how triggered the alarm. “Impossible” I thought, “there’s just no way.” It was not until we reached the staircase that Mike Hendry informs me and anyone else in a 15ft radius that the fire alarm lights were blinking with #45a shining through as the lettering behind it. “HOLY FUCK!”, I thought and I just went blank. I could not even get a word out, my mind, heart and anything else that can race was at full alert. Thoughts flashed in my head, “It was just over a month into college and I just set the fuckin fire alarm off smoking a blunt.” How the fuck can I get out of this sshit! How can I explain this to my parents!? Immediately I knew there was no way and I was going to be expelled, I was completely fucked. I even could see the meeting with my parents and the brothers clear as day in my head and believe me it wasn’t going so well.

Not explaining myself to anyone I rushed off and made my way over to Cannones pizza, stumbled inside, and found Joe sitting at a table eating a slice of Sicilian pizzia. “You hear the fire alarm went off?” I told him. “NO WAY?” he says, “Man that really sucks for you…hey we weren’t in there or nothing alright, there’s no reason you should be taking us all down. We were just chilling in mike’s room alright?” This fucking guy, here I am across from him practically convulsing, sweating, pale as fuck, and all he tells me is you better not rat on us. This set me over the top; I start getting dizzy and stuttering out words which must have just sounded completely illiterate and started to feel like I was about to vom all over the place. I started to shake like it was all of a sudden below zero in this place. While this freak out is going on, this mother fucker across from me never stops eating his pizza. Through this entire breakdown, I can still just picture him sitting there eating as calm as day, as if we were having a pleasant Sunday morning conversation. Finally after a few minutes of my shaking and speaking in tongues, he looks at me and says, “you just gotta chill the fuck out man, maybe it was something else.” Few minutes went by, and once I had somewhat pulled myself together, I walked back to Loftus in time to see that everyone had started walking back in. I walked up and asked someone “Jesus, what happened here?” as if I had just arrived back, “some idiot burnt some pancakes on the 3rd floor, everything is alright now.” I later would find out that fire zone 45a was the 3rd floor lobby, apparently the basement is where they start their zoning numbers. Also my RA did smell weed in our room as he walked around making sure we had all evacuated. All things considered though, I got lucky. I had assumed the worst case scenario and caused my mind and body to react as if it had. This of course was partially Mike Hendry’s fault, but I also think that my propensity to see the worst in a situation, the fact that I was high and paranoid, and I’m sure a few other factors played a part.

Now over four years later, I would just like to formally thank Joe, wherever he may be, for what may have been the greatest advice I have ever received, and words that I have referenced in countless situations of my own panic and toward others since; “you just gotta chill the fuck out man."

Link For this post:
The coolest 9yl in the world:
http://www.nypost.com/seven/12022008/news/nationalnews/i_wrote_the_book_of_love_141817.htm