In Case You Missed It Last Time

T-Wards.

Since you have to sign up to read the article let me summarize a few of the key points for you:

1. Trent Edwards = Stud
2. Grew up in Los Gatos
3. Named South Bay sports person of the year.
4. Is 5-3 as an NFL starter
5. Volunteers at soup kitchens
6. Has been to my house.

Go Bills

Yaegar Bombs

So I'm at pub17 for the past two nights. This is the bar that my high school friends still hang out at, because it's "convenient." It's a bit ridiculous as its attached to a motel on the Highway near me....Route 17, that has been known for drug deals and one of two murders that have occurred in my town in the past twenty years (that's gone to trial :0)

Anyways, for more insight into my past two nights in new jersey, please watch this video.

yaegar Bombs.

It hits a bit too close to home.

All Quiet on the Western Front

I just want to let it be known that I am the last one to go to bed tonight at the corral. I think this is a first.


(edit: Ok so since it was xmas night I figured no one else would be coming home but then at like 10 michelle came in the door and i was going to bed. Dang. Well maybe another time.)

Open Apology to Mr. Shiel

Matt,
Damn you totally got boned last night. Sorry. Not sure who's fault that was our how it happened but since since we all were drunk I'm sure we can share the blame. Our bad. I'll buy you a beer next time we go out. Oh and we did come home at like 10:45 so its not like you missed much.

Here were the highlights:

30 minutes of ice skating which included watching Josh hug the railing the entire time.

20 minutes of the end of some holiday party that had free booze. Josh and I had 2 beers and went to the bathroom together. Others danced for a bit.

Taking BART home and singing 'hey jealousy'.

Love,
Greg

Life is a mystery

What the crap? I mean I work hard all week and when I somehow amazingly get smuggled into the last 20 minutes of a random 70's holiday party with free booze and snacks is it too much to ask for a little Madonna? I mean come on. When the virgin of like a Prayer (DAVE) is in my presence all I want is a little 'god?' Stupid ass people and their crappy old ipods. It was a freaking 'mini'. I don't think anyone even knew how to work it. Wow.

T-Wards

In case you missed last Sunday’s action, I suggest you check this out and see how star Buffalo Bills quarterback Trent Edwards performed. Allow me to highlight some of his finer moments:

1. 4 TDs.
2. 165 Yds.
3. 2 yds rushing.
4. First rookie QB since 1971 to throw 3 first half TDs.
5. Leading the 7-6 Bills to a potentail playoff spot.
6. Los Gatos High School Grad.
7. Grew up on Jacaranda Way this close to where Corral resident DK lived.

It's official

Alrighty, guys. I am not sure if people still read this or not, but what the heck, I figure I'll give this a shot. For the sake of brevity, I am going to spread the news via the internet: things did not work out between me and Michele. Here is a summary of my feelings, so you all know, without me having to explain the same thing six (6) times.

Yes, it is a bummer, but not too bad. I had a pretty strong feeling this was coming, and had not invested much emotion into it. However, there is a greater feeling of disappointment regarding relationships in general.

The most exciting prospect about having a girl, to me, was not having to constantly think about how to meet people, and forcing myself to do things I am not terribly interested in just because there is a chance to meet someone.

Also, I have further evaluated my record with girls, and I would say I have gone out with roughly 20 girls, to some extent, and have felt a genuine connection to no more than one (1) of them. These are pretty crap odds, if you ask me. I don't know how most everyone I know (save Matt and Darren) has done it. Really.

Oh, and if anyone was going to suggest that I go gay, I have considered this myself at several points in my life. I would say the only thing stopping me from that is I find butt sex really gross, and usually my butthole is totally raw from my constant diarrhea anyway. Also, the thought of making out with other guys is really gross to me, and I find most gay people to be pretty irritating.

Alright, there you have it. I don't need six (6) people asking me how I am doing and being sympathetic and what not. I am fine, just a bit bummed, but such is life. Really, what would be more helpful than anything, is if you guys could all either try pretty hard to hook me up with some chicks (preferably with low self-esteem), OR pitch in to buy me a russian bride.

Wishbone

No one gets what they want, according to the ancient chinese tradition of breaking the wishbone. And by no one, I mean Pamera and I.

Pan-a-ma-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah

Here we coooooooooooooome. I would post a picture to prove it but I don´t currently have the means.

To Matt and Pam:

Hello, Matt and Pam. This is Josh. You may know me as that reliable fixture in your morning lives. You know the one: you wake up and give me a pleasant smile, nod, and "hello", and I respond with "Hey, Fag".

I just wanted to let you know I would not be joining you today in our standard morning ritual. As a substitute, let me paint you a picture with a few keystrokes from my fingertips:

You: drowsy-eyed and hungover (Matt) or exhausted from work (Pam)
Me: Garbed in a stained white shirt and silver Nike running shorts, which have never, technically, been run in

You: Running (Matt) or making a delightful breakfast of biscuits n gravy (Pam)
Me: Sitting in a chair, looking at my computer, farting.

You: Making pleasant conversation
Me: Farting and saying inappropriate yet slightly endearing racist comments

You: Leaving for work and/or school
Me: Sitting in a chair, looking at my computer, farting.

Apparently our toilet is pretty good...

...Because I just threw everything I had at it, and it didn't come close to clogging.

Halloween

Hey, so Halloween is coming up, and I have no idea what to be. If anyone can help, that would be tite. T-I-T-E. Tite.

God?

Ok, so I know I hardly ever drink and very rarely less go out, but i did frequent the Cat Club tonight and it happened to be 80's night. Go me. Let's just say that David Bowie, Cyndi Lauper and Michael Jackson all made their appearances. But what really made this night special was when me and c-dub were dancing and some crappy song like crap on me was playing and I said, "well lets see what the next song is and then we'll leaver." Litlle did I know the next song could in fact be the greatest song ever written. I didn't even see it coming. My head was in my hands and Cristin's coworker was like, "dude your boyfriend is freaking out." I of course proceeded to lip sync, slash scream really loudly, the entire song. Let's just say that I gave Madonna a run for her money.

I live for Like A Prayer.

Crushed Childhood

It's no secret that kids are dirt-fucking-stupid. We can sugar coat it all we like, but when it comes down to it, kids are self-serving shitstains who care more about Trapper Keepers than...well, than just about anything.

The downside of this is, we are all kids at some point. In these formative years, while we are still under the spell of idiocy, we are introduced to many things that appear humorous at the time, while in fact, are quite the opposite.

Examples: Saturday morning cartoons, Police Academy, Sit coms, etc.

I find that throughout life, I stumble upon things I found amusing as a child, only to be crushed that A) these things are, in fact, shit; and that B) I must have been pretty fucking stupid to enjoy this shit.

The latest reality check is a little something called David Letterman. I remember enjoying his shtick, even fighting my primal instinct to go to sleep at 10 in order to stay up for his opening monologue. And oh, who can forget the top 10?
The lethal combination of Letterman's borderline senile rants, Paul Schafer's sugary-sweet melodies, and Allen Coulter's deep, booming voice was enough to send me into convulsions.

But tonight, I watched my first episode in quite some time, and to say that I was "disappointed" is an understatement of Elton-John's-Gayness proportions. All euphemisms and literary flourishes aside, he fucking sucks. He seems to be catering solely to pity-chuckles these days, and has abandoned any sort of social/political commentary in favor of nonsensical asides.

In short, I was pretty fucking stupid as a kid.

Talents

It has been said that people are like snowflakes: no two are a like, and the whiter they are the more beautiful they are.

Much like snowflakes, every person has specific talents. Some people go to college to develop and hone these abilities; others go to college to hit on chicks that don't shave their legs. I fell in to a third category, which can best be described as "picking your butt."

While I initially felt as though my experience at picking my own butt was not applicable to the job world, and I had missed an opportunity to find my own true calling, I realize I was just confused.

My calling is picking my butt. I can sit around and do nothing better than anyone. As opposed to running around pretending I am qualified for bullshit positions, I just need to develop my own job category that exploits my personal skills.

Some possibilities:
Movie watcher (not critic, however...too much vocab)
Couch tester
Fart-maker for movie sound effects
Burrito restaurant quality control

I am open to other suggestions.

Flatware Gift Hits Target: Sticks

63 Valley St outsider Ramji _______ hit the bulls-eye when he gifted a Melio Frosted/ Mirror-Finish 20-pc. Flatware Set to Pam Hughes this past Friday afternoon. Featuring Target's legendary tasteful design, the set of knives, forks and spoons promises to breath new life into everyday dining at the Corral. So far, user-satisfaction ratings have identified forks (both salad and dinner) as the head-and-shoulders standout of the collection. The ratings, which include factors such as "luster," "balance" and "pokiness" clearly reveal "quantity" as the most popular quality of the new forks.

Prior to the new acquisition, the fork to knife/spoon ratio was disastrously unbalanced, resulting in the need for plastic fork re-usage, disproportionally frequent dirty-fork washing, and general roommate unrest.

Said longtime resident Josh Flasher, "Listen. Its no secret that cowboys are the most rugged, rough-and-tumble uber-resourceful creatures ever to walk the open prairie-land of the wild wild west, except for maybe indians and Will Smith. MacGyver was a cowboy, for example. They can pretty much do whatever they want, whenever they want. But have you ever tried to eat pasta with a spoon? Let's just say I'm really happy about the new forks."

Jessica expressed approval with a simple yet equally indicative "Ohh! YAAAAAY!"

Only Michelle has refrained from comment on the new forks. "I really like the big new spoons. The handles are nice and strong; really good for digging into frozen dairy products." Links between this comment and the appearance of a fresh carton of Thrifty's Chocolate Malted Crunch ice cream in the freezer remain unconfirmed.

Wedding Dance Party

We got them to play Torn. End of story.

Sun River Day 2

Last night's shindig at the brewery was a success. Black Butte, Mirror Pond and the seasonal Twilight ale were all on tap. The lack of the IPA was depressing but the free beer made up for it. I believe Josh wanted to make back the cost of the trip in beer. I think he did. But clearly the highlight of the night was the cougar, we'll call her Robin, who hit on Paggi. She couldn't stop talking to him. She was a fox. I can't wait to see what happens on the dance floor tonight. I also wowed everyone with my boat racing skills that I haven't shown off since the college days. I still got it. We got back and tested the hot tub at the house. Not quite as hot as we were hoping, but enjoyable regardless.

Today started off with some delicious breakfast burritos. J-Flash, Pag and I headed out on the town with the hopes of using our free coupons to play tennis. After much traversing of the resort we were sent to a place that had absolutely no tennis. We sweet talked the lady into letting us play basketball instead on their indoor court. I don't think we ever missed a shot.

Oh and then Josh and Lilli beat me at trivial pursuit. By only one. And it was like the 70's version. I mean come on.

Next up: Josh learns how to tie his tie. The over under is set at 37 minutes. Hint: Take the over.

Balut Balut Balut: Fertilized Duck Eggs

Who seriously wants to eat them? Not I. At first it seemed benign enough. It's a hard-boiled duck egg. Ok, I've eaten eggs before, even hard-boiled. I've also had duck. They are both good on their own. But a fertilized duck egg??? That's partially formed?

Nothing like drinking at trivia without a proper supper to have hunger motivate you. Actually, it wasn't even hunger, just curiosity. It looks way worse than it actually is, it does take like a richer, hard-boiled egg. The worst part about it is the crunch.

However, I would not recommend dissecting it. It removes all desire of consumption very, very quickly.


As you can see..... Everything is there. Welcome to Biology 101, enjoy the semester.

Road Trip. Day 1.

Tight. Spent 2 hrs in the car getting from frisco cali to walnut creek. Upon arrival at the creek we received our 2008 Nissan Sentra. It has an auxiliary input. Needless to say it's rad. The trip from Walnut Creek to Sun River was much more enjoyable and speedy. Especially because I was having gay sex the entire way with a bunch of gay studs. It wouldn't have been a road trip without a stop at Le Bell. It's not like we had a choice. Fortunately my chicken burrito supreme didn't cramp me up. Whew. I believe the highlight of the trip though was watching the Ironic video in the car and each of the four of us palyed different Alanises. Another highlight was Josh and I in the front listening to every 90's song invented until 2am. Ok stay tuned for update on day 2. It's looking up since there will be free beer tonight at the Deschutes Brewery.

Labor Day

Labor Day has come and gone once again. It was a much needed respite from the drudgery of work. Returning to the office (the shitter) today was made all the more difficult by this magnificent weekend (because Matt got locked out and I had to prematurely cut off a log to let him back in).

Let's reflect on some highlights:
Killer party
Tight swimming pool
Rockin burgers
Painting kegs

Nice.

Live Blog: Part 2

Well, how is this for irony? The day I choose to devote to boundless blogging turns out to be my most action packed day in quite some time. Around 2 I left for the beach, then left from there to go to a Giants game, and made time for a burrito in between! Holy moses!

Maybe if there is a really funny joke on David Letterman I can cram in one more blog about how funny that joke was before this night is over, but aside from that unlikely happenstance, consider this live blog over.


I am sorry to disappoint.

Live Blog: Part 1

So I am not sure what constitutes a "live blog", but I am just going to try to put up as many posts as I can today.

I kicked off today, the 28th of August, with a hefty little run. As it had been roughly 5 months since my last attempt, I figured a good test of my metal would be to kick the shit out of that vertical high-rise we so casually refer to as a "hill" in this city. Needless to say, I got to the top, and felt like Pre-Montage Rocky getting to the top of those steps. And when I say "top", I use that term loosely, as there is no actual end to the hill, just a brief leveling off. Once I reached the plateau, I examined my options. I figured a good middle ground between continuing my run or throwing up on myself while passing out was to walk for a little while, then return home.

Estimated run time: 4 minutes.
Estimated run distance: .2 miles

Re: Lack of Blogging

Recently, Greg called it to all of our attention that there has been a lack of blogging going on. I feel more responsible than most, given I really don't have an excuse not to. My days are pretty full, what with Band of Brothers, downloading 90s music/comic books/fisting porn, but I should be able to make time for the important things in life.

Thankfully, when your life is as trivial as mine, Blogging actually counts as "important". So here it is: my triumphant return to blogdom. And what to discuss, of the myriad of topics floating around in my mind right now? There are just so many current events that demand my discerning, scathing brand of witticism. Or, at least, there probably are. I haven't followed any current event in the last year. The last I heard, Darfur was in need of saving, Iraq was pretty gay, and no one was too excited about our president. I assume all these events are still current, but since I know nothing of any of them, I will move my attention to something I know slightly more about: Vaginas.

I was pretty excited to live with three girls. Not because I had intent of shacking up with them (that would border on incest at this point), but I definitely had intent to shack up with their hot, sexy, totally single friends. Thus far, while the offers have obviously been flying in non-stop, I have yet to capitalize on anything. Perhaps this is because - oh wait - the girls of this house don't have any girl friends!

What the crap?

Who do you guys talk to about boys? Who helps you paint your nails? Who do you have pillow fights and sleepovers with? Everything I know about girls (they are prettier than guys, smell better, and have squishy holes) tells me that you guys are supposed to travel in packs. Just look at mean girls!

But instead, nothing. No Lindsay Lohan, no Rachel McAdams. Well, enough procrastination. Time to find a new way to put off looking for a job. Tight.

More Beer

Continuing with the brew topic I want to discuss the homebrew nomenclature. Per my conversation with genghis I think we need to assign names to the kegs to differentiate them. So probably the best way would be to give them pitchers names to keep the rotation theme. In this case we could say, "Well it looks like Maddux is up nest in the rotation." So I am going to go with Matt Cain as my keg. Josh will probably go with Wild Thing from Major League and Darren with Dan Haren and Matt may go with Pedro but could pick another Mets pitcher, we'll see. Discuss. Ok break. Tequila Night. End 'O story.

Beer

I thought it should be known that the ratio of 5 gallon batches of beer to button-up shirts in my closet has officially tipped in favor of the beer.


Thank god.

Rafting

Ok guys, I know we are in camping mode right now, but I also need to start planning our next big adventure.

That being rafting the South Fork of the American.
Here is the deal: my dad needs $30 from everyone who is going. This is for gas, another guide, boating permits, and lunch, which will be provided. Lunch is going to be turkey and/or salami sammiches, I believe. If any one is a vegetarian, or a fag, they need to let me know what kind of special treatment they need.

So this money needs to be collected pre-trip, so we don't get a bunch of flakes. This is basically open right now, with a total of 12 spots. Please let me know if you are going or not. Also, if you feel like it would be a good idea to bring a guest to further your romantic exploits (I am looking your way Jessica), please let me know that as well.

Ok, yeah. Kick ass.

Camping

I know this may be unkosher, but as opposed to using this blog to post drunken rants about pubes and all matters fecal, I am going to take a mild detour into Practical Town.

If this offends anyone, I am sorry.

I am tossing this out to any Corral members who are interested. I am going to try to put together a food group for camping. This will bring down cost, reduce effort, and hopefully, produce less dishes (tight). Here is a basic menu I am thinking. If other people have changes they want to make or whatever, let me know.

Lunches (2) - Sammiches
turkey, butterball, 20 oz. for 4 bucks at safeway
bread
tomato
onion
mustard

breakfast (2)
Eggs
Bacon
Tortillas (just for shits)
Maybe throw in some salsa or bell peppers and shit.

Dinner 1
Hot dogs (16 oz pack of chicken dogs at safeway for $1. No kidding)
We could also do ground meat burgers, for $3.49 a pound, or turkey burgers for even less.)
Chili (for the hot dogs) - most likely free from soup freaks.
Corn on the cob maybe?
Watermelon ($2 for a whole one at Safeway!)

Dinner 2
Spaghetti
Sauce
Maybe some ground meat to toss in
I am open to side dishes on this one...


So there you have it. I was going basically for cheapness, and minimal amounts of prep. Also, who has a cooler chest?

Let me know what you think.

Football

Holy shit, there is pre-season football on today. I feel like a kid the night before Christmas. Although, knowing my 49ers, it will be like I was a kid who really had his heart set on an Erector set, then gets nothing but coal and used underwear.

But none the less, I am actually incapacited with excitement. I thought about many things I could do today - find a job, work on my resume, bathe - and just can't picture myself doing any of them.

There isn't really a reason for this post; I am saying nothing that anyone else would find interesting. I am just trying to find things to do between the hours of 10 and 4:30 to make that time go faster.

My nipples are hard.

Holla at yer gurl!

First of all, Gregorio, I hope you had a wonderful birthday and enjoyed Chico. I'm sorry I didn't get to say it on Friday but Happy Birthday!

Joshie-poo:
After spending last Thursday with you, a day which began with fabulous omelets, if I do say so myself, (Chloe's got nothin' on us! And I scoff at the 8 dollars they charge and their 40 minute wait) I feel I made up for missing Josh Day '07. Let's remind everyone what Thursday (aka: Museum Day) consisted of...

Around 2pm, two sober, thrifty city enthusiasts (that's us) arrived at the SF MOMA. Lucky for me, Josh- the mafioso he is- had his connections get us in for free. Our heads filled with Matisse and indigo blue cotton shirts (special exhibits), we decided it was high time to fill our stomachs with something, too. Ah! Toronado-our beloved beer bar- has a happy hour that starts before noon. We proceeded to hop on a Haight-bound bus, which arrived promptly- an omen that the universe was in favor of our pilgrimage-and shortly thereafter arrived on heaven's doorstep.

We split a pulled pork sandwich from my favorite BBQ place across the street from the bar (it reminds me a bit of my hick-ish roots in Florida and West Virginia) and washed it down with 3 tasty pints. Happy hour (the best hour of the day, which apparently lasts for 6 hours at Toronado, though we were only there for two) being over, we decided we needed to top the day off with some of the homemade brew. We professed our love for all things alcoholic and considered the always alluring possibility of Bingo. It was around this point that I noticed I had a text message. I was actually in the middle of sending a reply when I just plain passed out; despite my best efforts, I never managed to hit the elusive "Send" button, or get to Bingo for that matter. According to my sources, in the end, no one made it to bingo; the lure of burritos and birthday cake claimed every last soul.

However, I should note that my passing out was especially noteworthy because 1.) The lights in my room were on 2.) I was fully dressed 3.) My bedroom door wasn't exactly closed 4.) It was still light outside-roughly 7:55pm.

"Museum Day"...Special... That's real bonding right there.

STILL TO COME: The Tragicomedy of Travel- Peruvian Style

Joshday, August 6, 2007!!!

Based on the three exclamation marks in the subject title, you can tell that Joshday, August 6, 2007!!! was incredibly awesome. I'm not talking dueling smiley face/cube-shaped fireworks awesome, but rather dueling Celine Deon/Meatloaf-Marion Raven version of "It's All Coming Back To Me Now" awesome. Obviously, attendees discussed mundane subjects such as food, 40's, and Monday sucking, but good times were managed, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversity (long waits, heavily tattooed bulldyke waitresses, and under-carbonated homebrew). Yum.

Until next year...Happy Joshday, August 6, 2007!!!

It's been far too long

Sorry folks. I realize I haven't been bringing my A game to this blog thing recently (although, I have been bringing my "A's" game, as in, I have been sucking an awfully lot).

This was due to a beastly thing called "A Job". No longer will I let such petty distractions get in the way of the important things in life, i.e., blogging, drinking, reading comic books, and masturbating. Wow, when you put things like that, it really sounds like I am reading the 'Merican dream here.

Much like a cancer, I have cut this job from my life, no longer allowing it to sap every ounce of joy out of me. And, much like with cancer, I have shaved my head. Not all the way; only black people can pull that off. But enough that I feel like a new person. A new person with totally sick side burns.

Anyway, there is no point to this message, I just now have a lot of free time, and am really happy about it. When I was growing up, I idolized GI Joes, Hot Rod (the one from Transformers, not that piece-of-shit Samberg movie), and Jerry Goldstein. While the last person may seem obscure to those "none-chosen-ones" out there, he is just a filthy rich white jew who is ugly as sin but bought a gorgeous wife from Thailand. As I have grown up and matured (not in the mental sense, but I definitely have pubes now), my priorities have shifted, as have my dreams. All the sports heroes, movie stars, and comic book characters of yore have been replaced with one shining beacon of human excellence: Peter from Office Space. More and more, I find my life to resemble his, aside from the boning Jennifer Aniston thing.

My dream really is to do nothing. I don't care about helping others; I don't need fulfillment from my job. I just want to sit around, roll out of bed, make some food, play some drums, and then go to sleep. That is my perfect day.

And now, I finally have it. God bless 'Merica, and I can't wait till I get my welfare check.

See you in the soup kitchen line,
Food Stamp Josh

Dude, Where's My Car?

6:15 rolls around and I left to go for a short run and move my car because street cleaning was this morning and I didn't feel like paying a 40$ ticket. As I ran up to where I parked my car I noticed a large pickup truck that had a strikingly similar resemblance to my honda civic. Or not.

Slowly the panic started to set in. Where's my car? Is this actually where I parked? Did it just get towed? Why would someone steal my filthy car? Where's Ashton Kutcher? I needed answers. I obviously ran back to the corral and broke the news to C-dub who wanted to confirm I was sure that was where I had parked. I verified and then proceeded to use this handy tool to find out if my car had actually been towed. Search returned no results. Dang. A police report was then filed.

Of course it was about that time I remembered I may have parked somewhere else. I bolted out the door and sure enough my car was right where I actually parked it. I even ran past it on the way to look for it the first time. Wow.

Not having your car stolen is totally the best way to start off a friday. I suggest you try it sometime.

Filetes y "open bars"

I just talked to my Chilean host mom for 45 minutes in Spanish, and I don't even speak Spanish.

On and unrelated note, I recommend open bars at incredibly classy financial district clubs whenever possible.

What Have You Done So Far Today?

Current time: 7:32. The day started off mundanely enough. As usual, I awoke to the smooth stylings of San Francisco's own KFOG (home of World Class Rock, and by World Class Rock I really mean incredibly tight songs like "San Francisco Days" by San Francisco's own Chris Isaak, and pretty much anything by Joe Satriani). After much deliberation, I made an executive decision and got in the shower. At that point, I should have known I was in for a wild day. I generally make a point to not shower in the morning, but I guess I was feeling a little saucy or something. Luckily, that attitude changed about 15 minutes later when my bike got in a fight with a 2006 Chevy 1500 while I was riding it to the Cal Train station. True, my bike got pretty fucked up, and the back wheel has taken on many of the characteristics of, as Pam might say, "Ginny," or as Devin might say, "Beef Curtain," but you should see the truck. The ol' Veloz managed four (4) surface scratches on the front bumper of the metallic giant before getting pitched into the gutter. Bummer. The Chevy turned out to be a good sport, and offered my bike a ride home and I tagged along as well. I called my boss and let him know that I wouldn't be coming in today, I had to take care of my sick bike.

Weekend + 1. Go.

Heroes: The Final Episode of Season 1 +Wildwood

So I just watched the final episode of Heroes last night. It was about 2.5 months after it came out on that thing called the television, but events run slowly in terms of media on Canal Street (unless it is a pre-release movie, which appears on the street 24 hours before it comes in theaters). Well, let me tell you... it was everything I hoped for and more. I don't usually get excited about television (usually only about 3/5th's), but this had my knee bobbing and screaming whoahs like a thai hooker getting slapped with a live cuttlefish. Darren, you've missed
out on this, but I bet you can catch up on alluc.tv. All I'm gonna say is that Hiro looks like a badass.

This weekend is Wildwood. Here is a description from my friend Bert:

"Anyway... for those who don't know, Wildwood is a coastal city at the bottom of New Jersey... so you know it's trashy. The boardwalk is littered with jailbait, dollar pizza and more Italian-Americans than you can shake a cannoli at. But, in this case, I am referring to the largest beach Ultimate tournament in the country."

Let's just say I'm excited and will probably be talking about this for the next 3 months. You can read more up at that link about past shenangians, but this year holds a promise for me. The promise of life (barely-legal), liberty (escape from the boardwalk p0-p0), and the pursuit of happiness (deep-fried oreos).

t-minus: 21

...In the Gutter...

Like Joshter Monster, the word climax also caught my attention (I found it stimulating, if you will) triggering my desire to share a little anecdote. During my late night trip to 24 Hour Fitness, I heard the following on Love Line:
Dr. Drew: Even with lube, women can only go about 15-20 minutes before sex becomes somewhat painful or difficult

Guests & Stryker: *Discussions about the validity of porn and other questions about "Ginny"*

Dr. Drew: I'm telling you, on average, 15-20 minutes. Look, it's not galvanized steel.

....And there you have it, folks. For anyone who thought otherwise, it is NOT, in fact, galvanized steel.

A Magical Climax

Seven, maybe eight, years I have been waiting for this and it's finally here. last night C-dub and I made the trek down to Valencia and 20th to join in the festivities. Prior to arrival I assumed there would mostly be 8-12 year olds there with handful of adults interspersed. Boy was I wrong. Of just over a hundred people there may have been at most 3 persons under the age of 20. After a few free snacks and 10 minutes of waiting in line, 12:01 rolled around and I finally got to hold 759 pages of complete wizard pleasure in my hands. So don't bother trying to contact me today. I am booked solid.

Better than Christmas.

Rumble in the Corral.

Apparently, a 4.2 earthquake is strong enough to wake up Jessica and me.

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/recenteqsww/Quakes/nc40199209.php#details

Yeehaw.

My room (what else)

My room smells sooooo much like beer. My room smells more like beer than my shirt did on Friday night. That is saying a lot.

Tits.

There's a party in the Mission with our name on it...literally!

http://www.sfstation.com/magnificent-7-e76231


In other news...

So I'm in the middle of my morning ritual, furiously yet indiscriminately perusing the internet, when a small squib on The Onion about Sarasota, FL- which I more or less claim as my hometown- caught my attention:

SARASOTA, FL—Sheila Newborn was left completely bewildered when the two black people she knows and set up on a date did not hit it off.

Enough said...

I admit defeat

I realize that a large portion of this entire blog has been devoted to me, my crap room, my small bed, and my complete lack of poon. I have tried to stay my ground as long as possible on these matters, but reality hit me like a ton of....well, fuck metaphors, reality hit me like my sleeping ass rolling onto the floor last night.

I have woken up under many conditions before: headaches, nausea, spinning, random asian people's couches, but not since I was six years old have a I woken up in a desperate panic, clinging to my bed for dear life as though I was Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger. Although, thankfully, my struggle did not include an incorrigible John Lithgow with a laser-sight on forehead.

So to make a long story short (of course, at this point that is moot because you already read the long story, so adding the Cliff notes down here just makes it longer) my bed sucks, and not only is it too small for myself and a yet-to-be-determined chick, but it is too small for me. And I'm not very big.


Oh, and fucking sick wok! Way to go, somebody. Oh yeah, and "incorrigible" is a really hard word to spell.

Full Circle

It's funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. {platitude #1}

Seven hour have passed since my final open house at 324 C-anal St. Seven hours have also passed since I've had my last drink. Coincidence? I think not, but it matters very little for I am here to document my pen-ultimate open house. I cannot tell how it began because of three reasons:
1) *
2) *
3) I was late.

*written in invisible ink. Please use a 1:1 ratio of lemon juice and water to reveal. Just like Harry Potter!

Regarding #1 and 2 above, the internal nature of such beings is infernal and when the two get together, well, let's just say the laws of man (and woman) cannot describe their constitution.
Yet for all intensive purposes and thanks to the magik that is craigs' list, the turn-out was large (but not in charge).

Much wine (coolers) and beer (luke-warm) was consumed. One frozen burrito was left to stagnate. Half a ham was demolished. Many people were met, their names quickly forgotten, and their life-stories went straight to obscurity. Some phone numbers were retrieved from the trash after viewing their photos on the TelePrompTer (these ladies may or may not be called for a hang out session). 2 southern party crashers were kicked out after an impromptu photo-shoot. A spaniard decried that she would like to sleep with "all the beautiful womenz in thees open house." Her right to suffrage was ended quickly and painlessly.

Basic conclusions that became apparent as the night wore on:
a) The British do not want to regain their hold in America, and will not be residing in this united nations.
b) Architecture is in?
c) This year's model of MS will be replaced by last year's 20 year old german model in a little over a fort-night.
d) democracy is only fun while sober. after tossing back a few, tyrants appear.

As for endings, they are never pretty. {platitude #2}

7 individuals voted. In the instance of the first vote, 5 were happy. In the instance of the second vote, 7 were happy. In the instance of the last vote...... only 3 were happy, yet this minority won.

Some may say that this is a tyranny.

Others call it a royal monarchy that is afraid of change.

I call it a comeback.

t-minus:30

Acclimation Emancipation

I may finally be making the transition from New Yorker to San Franciscan. Among the many differences between metropolitan coastal juggernauts NY and SF (which, if you listen closely, you'll hear me mention no less than three times per minute), a few really seem to stick out. First of all, I seem to live with 7 people here instead of the more customary 10 in New York. Second, my room has a "window." I've read several articles about things like "sunlight," and "UV rays," and "windows," and the relationship therein, and have recently invested in sunscreen (also see "trees," "birds," "nature"). Third, and most striking, is the most phenomenally fantastic supermarket phenomenon extravaganza. Such establishments provide consumers with low, low cut-rate prices on more grocery products than a bodega-bred Brooklynite could shake a stick (or skinny-legged hipster jean) at. Why, just today I found myself caught in the thralls of Safeway's bank-busting club-card prices. Wow. Obviously overwhelmed, I stumbled through the aisles in a haze, barely comprehending what was passing before my eyes. Originally intending to purchase one small jar of pickles, I found myself unloading no less than !9! items onto the little conveyor belt thingy, pickles no where to be found. As I reached for the last item in my basket, I felt my fingers grasp the handle of a cool, plastic bottle filled with a rich, brown liquid. Whiskey!?!? Panic. Where? How? Why? It came rushing back in a flash. The stand had been tucked into a back corner near the cold cuts, and the sign had included the words "only," and "50%," and "Friday." I'd grabbed 1.5 liters of Tennessee's finest for a mere $14, and now found myself facing the cold, hard reality of my selection. Someone would have to consume the spirit, and I had a feeling that someone would, in large part, be someone similar to, if not in fact actually, me. A quick review of the ingredients confirmed it: 28% whiskey, 72% miscellaneous grain alcohol. The horror. I surreptitiously slid the bottle in between the Snickers and the Dentyne Ice, right at the eye level of an unsuspecting 8-year old. I paid and left, avoiding eye contact with the overly-friendly security guard. As I embarked on the return journey, my mind raced. Had I made the right decision with the whiskey? Didn't I need to go back and get some of those Cliff Bars for $1 each (now through July 31st)? Do I even eat cliff bars? Did I remember the pickles?!?!? As I consoled myself with a big-ass bag of Salsa Verde Doritos chips, a voice cut through the din in my head. "Hi!" it said. Again. And again. It sounded friendly. Why? Couldn't they see I was distraught? Couldn't they mind their own fucking business and let me go on my way unmolested, left to ponder fare wages, cheap produce, the cost/benefit of buying local, community supported agricultural products and the implications for Safeway's club card promotions? I gave a cursory glance. Jess. Pam. Safety. Freedom. Giggles. Wrapping myself in the warm blanket of the (seemingly) unprovoked onslaught of laugher, my head cleared. Thinking straight for the first time since I'd entered the store 8 minutes earlier, I remembered my original purpose: pickles. I passed off the bag to Pamica, put my game face on, and headed back. Minutes later, I reemerged with one (1) jar of Clausen's Pickles, and zero (0) of everything else. Acclimation complete.

Suck that, west coast supermarket.

Blogging: My new addiction

I plan to use this quote in my future writing endeavor- a memoir of my life with Gengs Cass:

"Dude, from that spot you might be able to see my bawls… And they're not pretty. I don't care what anyone says about balls; I've seen mine, and it's not a pleasant sight."


Despite my penchant for Josh-bashing, all jokes aside, I've dedicated 2 hours of my morning searching for jobs and furniture for Joshie-poo. I hope everyone is doing their part as well. However, my research has been slightly hindered; I've found that all of the spoon & a-hole jokes and references to boxes have crowded out some of the more relevant practical facts, like sociology major, work experience, etc. Besides beer brewing, what else might interest you?


Also, FYI, if you hit "settings" when looking at your blogger dashboard, you can see other people's drafts. Quite frankly DK (or should I use lower case letters?), I don't know why you don't just post your draft; the blowing off of footware really got me chuckling. I also wanted to remind you to inform Matt that should he desire to properly fuse with the rest of the torso (no biological puns intended), it is obligatory that he have an uber cheap blue floral mattress with- let's us not neglect the most vital part- a dip in the center large enough to create a centripetal force that incommodiously and awkwardly draws two sleeping bodies together with waking force.

Emma? Is that you, Michelle? And is Mike on here?

Yikes

What the fuck happened last night?

Group Posting

Coming to you live from the Valley St. kitchen, I'm posting on behalf of Greg and myself. We spent a lovely afternoon reflecting on how mind-blowingly awesome our house is while simultaneously trying to quantify how much we rock as a group. Let's emphasize awesome and rock as a group. Then let us quantify what it means to be awesome and rock. Can one truly quantive such amazing attributes? This is the question that has dogged mankind throughout time.I just think people really are not capaable of grasping what it means to live with 7 people. Most peopla think its terrible. Let me tell you that when 7 awesome people live together its amazing. So to recap, us: 1, everyone else: 0.

Current mood: drunk
Curreny music: Madonna

The future is n- ah crap.

As some of you may know I am usually a pretty happy guy. I think I got upset once about 8 months ago. I'm kinda of like the male Jessica with a lot less high pitch shrieks. So to get me riled you really have to grind me out.

Or you have to be the Giants. Now I have been known to frequent a certain other blog during work and today happened to be the day when this was announced. Now we have put up with Brian for the past few years when nothing, I repeat nothing, has been done to advance the effectiveness of my team. I finally thought that we could go in another direction, and starting with a new GM seemed to be the right move. Unfortunately the powers that be decided we shall remain in our current declining phase.

I could rant for a while but that would only acerbate the situation. Let me just say please Brian, do something different. Something. Anything. Sign Jessica's brother to a 7 year deal. I don't care. Anything. Just don't put 35 year-old fading-slow-crappy hitters on the field. Don't force me to already give up on 2008 half way through 2007. Please. For my sake and the people around me.

But if you touch Tim or Matt I'll kill you.

Friday the 13th

Shout out to my peeps- or peep-in the torso for hanging out even though it was cutting into sleep time. I retract my previous comment of "LAME."

Now on to my favorite topic: Joshie-poo!
Okay, I guess I had this one coming to me; should you bring a lady friend home, you can use my room, but don't forget to remove the giant bottle of Benefiber. I'm not sure what kind of first impression that will leave...Fudge packer? Geriatric? Either way, it won't increase your chances of getting any so-called "poon."

For the record, I just wanted to add that beer is NOT a woman deterrent. In fact, I'm sure I am not alone in saying that brewing your own beer shows creativity, resourcefulness, and a certain fun-loving appeal...if you live in a somewhat classy bachelor pad. However, when surrounded by the previously noted decor (I don't think I need to remind anyone here), then the vat of beer gives off a different impression. Instead of proclaiming, "I'm playful; come play," it says something along the lines of: "I scratch my crotch...a lot."

Even though I sometimes refer to you as a part of the female anatomy or shout obscenities at you, I do support you in your quest to court hot Russians or other females. Wait, are you familiar with the term "females"? Perhaps I should say, "sexy bitches."

Anyway, we'll get to work on your room this weekend. I <3 my Josh-ter Monsh-ter!!!

Pamcakes to the rescue

Ok Pam, aside from the fact that I can't understand half the words you use in your post, I have one problem that must be addressed: You claim that the 5 gallons of fermenting beer in my closet are a deterrent. (Side note: this blog will tell me when I spell a word wrong, but I can't figure out how to make it tell me how to spell a word right, so I tried to spell "deterrent" at least 5 different ways until I got it right. Who would have thought it would have three E's?)
Alright, so back to the beer. Beer is, has been, and always will be my cologne (side note: I got "cologne" right on the first try, bitch). Most of my clothes smell like stale beer anyway; I may as well make them smell like fresh beer, right?

Aside from that, since you are spear-heading this whole "Josh's Room Reform" campaign, I thought of a pretty good way for you to contribute. As I type this, I am taking down all the pictures in your room, and replacing them with pictures of me. This is just temporary, but if the situation arises that I do, miraculously, against all odds, get a chick back at this house, I am just going to tell her that your room is my room.

That is already far fetched, but I know you may be concerned that if this ruse continued, it may lead to me sexing it up in your bed. Well, first off, the odds of that are equal to Alex Smith NOT rolling right and throwing out of bounds all next season. But in the off chance it did happen, I can assure you it wouldn't last more than a minute and a half.

Thanks for taking one for the team, Pamcakes.

Helping Those in Need

St. Francis of Assisi once said, "For it is in giving that we receive." Please keep this in mind as I ask you to join me in my crusade to help our beloved Joshter Monster...

You see, Genghis Cassidy has another problem besides the lone pube residing slightly north of his upper lip: He sleeps in a woman-repelling dorm room.

While the rest of the corral exudes classy Asiatic cowboy mixed with San Franciscan Victorian charm, Gengs, if you will, has turned his space into a twin bed nightmare replete with open dresser drawers spewing clothes (presumably clean, though still questionable), shade-less anthropomorphic lamps, a fleet of laundry hampers and a few bare paltry hangers that cry out, "Clothe us!" Let us not neglect the Prego spaghetti sauce jar turned bank or the homeless array of knickknacks. The aroma from the hops brewing in his elevated closet only add to the eternal freshman feel.

And when I use the term freshman, I am not referring to the sweaty 'roid-raging jocks secure in their knowledge of the adoring masses of jersey chasers clad in tiny denim skirts or the frat boys with their roofie cocktails who ooze slimy charm. Oh no, my friends! I am referring to those lonesome souls who find themselves sitting on the top bunk of 6B in some Harris Hall comforted by a comic book -the only place where they can find some action on a Friday night.

How is that I came to know the details of Gengs' den, you might ask? Well, after gracefully taking down an entire bottle of wine with ladylike finesse, I found Gengs to be the only one still awake at a mere 10:34pm. My remaining magnificent mates were already fast asleep, including the other half of the torso. LAME!!! Should Gengs find himself with a date, at least I will feel confident knowing he will be able to stay awake through an entire evening.

Returning to Gengs' primary predicament though, I am asking that you all donate a meager 10 minutes of your precious time for the sake of our dear friend. Look deep into your hearts and help someone less fortunate by searching craigslist for full or queen-sized beds, lampshades, bookcases, or other items that you think might transform the dorm into a room that, say, a hot Russian who enjoys an establishment such as Soupfreaks might want to frequent.

I am relying on your generosity and compassion. Do it for Gengs' sake!

Your hair is everywhere

So I have shaved like 3 times now (not total, but in reference to this post) and I have one hair that has eluded me. I can't tell if I keep missing it, or if it is made of steel or something, but there is a single 1 inch pubic hair residing on my upper lip. I am kind of worried it is going to keep flying under the radar until it is like 3 inches long and is getting in my food and crap. Anyway, if you see me, don't make fun of me, because I am sensitive. Not kidding. I am like a vagina that cries.

The First Tight Post From The Corral

The inaugural batch of brew is bubbling like Old Faithful. Darren and I investigated the fermenter this afternoon at approximately 1800 to confirm. The waft of hops smells amazing. Naturally so, Josh's closet currently houses our fine product. I'm pretty sure he's blacked out from the fumes. Or maybe just the excitement and anticipation of finally living the dream. You never know. This first recipe is a brown ale intriguingly called "Ripples of Venus". On a scale of 1 to the number of guys Zito will walk his next start, I would put the number of jokes we can make about that name at just under 17,000. So a handful less than the Zito issue. Expect the brew to be ready in roughly 3 weeks. Mmmm. Let's hope we can drill a hole (heh) in the refrigerator by then.

Welcome to The Corral. Be sure to wipe your feet.